#los angeles negros

[piloncillos]

Tres Palabras, Los Ángeles Negros.

[bastardo-con-suerte]

Bebiendome la noche me voy de esquina a esquina

[maquina-semiotica]

Los Angeles Negros, "Murió La Flor"

[spacepandar]

Los Angeles Negros - A Tu Recuerdo

[theskyisglue]

CLASICAS DEL AMOR 447 LOS ANGELES NEGROS - TU Y TU MIRAR, YO Y MI CANCION

[dhart4214]

BLACK HISTORY MONTH: A Few More Random Thoughts With Regards To Sports

Three iconic So Cal sports legends who will be forever remembered with awe and reverence: Woody Strode (left), Kenny Washington (right), and especially Jackie Robinson (center). AS BLACK HISTORY MONTH IS WINDING DOWN… I have been racking my head as to what to write and post on this blog regarding this month dedicated to the history of African Americans; In this particular case, the history of…

[hammity-hammer]

wooo wrapped time! 98 and 18?

hihihihihihio louuuuuuuuu<33

#98 issss Como Quisiera Decirte - Los Angeles Negros

& #18 is Orchid - Black Sabbath

send me an ask 1-99 to find the spotify wrapped song that matches !

[longlistshort]

Helado Negro- Ya No Estoy Aquí

This song by Helado Negro was released as a single in 2022.

On Friday, 4/21/23, Helado Negro will be opening for Rodrigo Amarante at Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles.

[contemplatingoutlander]

Trump continues having rallies in historic all-White "Sundown Towns," where Blacks had to leave by sunset.

Ayman Mohyeldin discusses the implications of Trump's having held rallies in Aug. and Sept. in four "Sundown Towns," where in the past Blacks had to leave/be off the streets by sundown. The rallies were held in Howell, MI, La Crosse, WI, and Johnstown, PA., and Mosinee, WI. Below is the video that Ayman posted on X.

AYMAN: "When your slogan is the nostalgic phrase Make America Great Again, a campaign tour of 'sundown towns' helps us all understand the America that Donald Trump is yearning for."

Trump keeps sending out his racist "dog whistles," while at the same time claiming that it is really "Whites" who are being discriminated against, and campaigning that he will ban the discussion in schools of "divisive" topics, like critical race theory, and instead promote a "patriotic" educational curriculum, like the whitewashed one developed by the 1776 Project in his last administration.

BlackPast: Sundown Towns:

Sundown Towns are all-white communities, neighborhoods, or counties that exclude Blacks and other minorities through the use of discriminatory laws, harassment, and threats or use of violence. The name derives from the posted and verbal warnings issued to Blacks that although they might be allowed to work or travel in a community during the daytime, they must leave by sundown. Although the term most often refers to the forced exclusion of Blacks, the history of sundown towns also includes prohibitions against Jews, Native Americans, Chinese, Japanese, and other minority groups. Although it is difficult to make an accurate count, historians estimate there were up to 10,000 sundown towns in the United States between 1890 and 1960, mostly in the Mid-West and West.

The Green-Book

The rise of sundown towns made it difficult and dangerous for Blacks to travel long distances by car. In 1930, for instance, 44 of the 89 counties along the famed Route 66 from Chicago to Los Angeles featured no motels or restaurants and prohibited Blacks from entering after dark. In response, Victor H. Green, a postal worker from Harlem, compiled the Negro Motorist Green Book, a guide to accommodations that served Black travelers. The guide was published from 1936 to 1966, and at its height of popularity was used by two million people.

[edited]

[pondysselth]

Así de caluroso || Enzo Vogrincic

El sol del mediodía caía a plomo sobre las calles de Montevideo, convirtiendo el asfalto en un espejismo humeante. El miércoles transcurría como cualquier otro día de verano, sofocante e implacable. A pesar del calor agobiante, una chica caminaba con paso ligero por 18 de Julio, alejándose de la facultad. El pelo se le pegaba a la frente, sudaba a chorros y el agua de su botella se había convertido en un caldo tibio. La libertad después de un largo examen era la recompensa que la impulsaba.

Cada paso era una lucha contra el calor. La chica apresuraba el ritmo buscando la sombra esquiva, deseando escapar de las fauces de la ciudad que tanto amaba.

De pronto, un leve malestar se apoderó de ella. El sudor se intensificó, la respiración se volvió dificultosa y un mareo familiar la amenazó. Se detuvo, tambaleándose, con la vista nublada y puntos negros danzando en su campo visual. Ignorando las señales de alarma, bebió un trago de la repugnante agua tibia y reanudó la marcha. Su única meta: salir de 18 de Julio. A duras penas, avanzó unas cuadras más, luchando contra un nuevo malestar que se instalaba en su cuerpo.

Allí mostrándose casi burlona detrás de esa inmensa puerta de concreto que se alzaba sobre la calle Juncal se encontraba uno de sus deleites visuales favoritos, Sarandí. Ella no sabía por qué, pero esa calle siempre la llamaba a explorarla. Aunque ya la había recorrido tantas veces, siempre encontraba algún tesoro nuevo. Se debatió si debía pasar por lo que ya era el desolado calderón a fuego ardiente de la Plaza Independencia para llegar a ese oasis visual que le abría paso a Ciudad Vieja o simplemente ignorarlo e irse a casa.

La exuberante calidez de la tarde le gritaba a la chica que debía ignorar el llamado a la exploración. Sin embargo, una fuerza interior, una mezcla de aventura y algo más que no podía nombrar, la incitaba a seguir adelante. Como diablillos en el infernal ambiente, sus deseos la empujaban por ese camino que solo le estaba trayendo malestares. Ignorando las señales de su cuerpo, que no estaba preparado para resistir más tiempo en esas condiciones, se decantó por seguir la incitación diabólica y entrar en el paraíso que era la calle Sarandí.

Arrastrando los pies como si una cadena de acero los uniera al suelo, se adentró en ese rincón de alegría que tanto la llamaba. Caminó unas pocas cuadras, disfrutando del pequeño oasis que se abría paso en el desierto de calor que se había apoderado de Montevideo. De repente, un golpe seco: su corazón aceleró a un ritmo desbocado, su respiración se volvió jadeante, su visión se nubló y su cabeza comenzó a dar vueltas. La conciencia se le escapaba de entre los dedos. Así se sentía: una bajada de presión producto de su insensato deseo de continuar un camino que no debería haber tomado, en un día en el que el mismísimo señor de los infiernos parecía haberse apoderado de las calles de la ciudad. Su destino: caer desmayada por su imprudencia.

—Tranquila, que te tengo.

Esa voz no era producto de su imaginación. Los brazos que la rodeaban eran demasiado cálidos y sudorosos, evidenciando que el desconocido también sufría las consecuencias del avasallante calor que emitía el asfalto. A pesar de que la conciencia se le escapaba, de que sus ojos se cerraban y dejaban de transmitir luz, la sensación de estar en los brazos de un extraño la obligaba a volver a la realidad, alerta ante un posible infortunio. Cuando el instinto de supervivencia se apoderó de su cuerpo y abrió los ojos con miedo, se topó con un ángel. El calor se disipó de su cuerpo al contemplar sus ojos color avellana, la sensación de sudor se olvidó con solo una mirada a sus labios, el mareo se ignoró por completo al observar su rostro como un todo. Enzo Vogrincic, en todo su angelical ser, la sostenía para evitar que cayera en la fogosa calle Sarandí.

—No te preocupes que te ayudo a sentarte.

Su voz me sacó de mis pensamientos, esta vez infinitamente menos agónicos. Me tomó con delicadeza y me llevó unos metros hacia atrás, hacia unas sillas de plástico rojas, no muy cómodas, con el logotipo de una conocida marca de bebidas. Estaban fuera de un local llamado Zabala. Solo allí me di cuenta de la distancia que mis pies, que ya se podían haber fundido con el asfalto, me habían llevado. Estábamos cerca del Registro Civil y a unos pocos metros del Implosivo Artes Escénicas, la escuela de actuación. He ahí esclarecida la aparición de mi inesperado ángel salvador. Con mi mente retornando de su estado de inactividad coherente lo primero que atiné a decirle a mi salvador fue.

—Perdón.

Una simple palabra, tan tonta que parecía fuera de lugar. Sin embargo, así me sentía: avergonzada de haberlo desviado de su camino. Posiblemente le molestaba ayudar a una desconocida que caminaba imprudentemente bajo el sol abrasador, con la única compañía de una cartera que contenía sus documentos para el examen, una tarjeta de transporte y su fiel botella de agua, que ahora parecía más una sopa por lo caliente que estaba.

La risa de mi nuevo acompañante me confirmó lo tonta que había sido mi respuesta. Doblemente avergonzada, lo miré a los ojos. Solo vi diversión por mis palabras y preocupación por mi extrema palidez y mi inminente desmayo.

—¿Cómo me vas a pedir perdón? ¿Te sentís mejor ahora sentada? Te voy a comprar un refresco y un agua fría, porque estoy seguro que te bajó la presión.

El hombre se irguió, enderezando su espalda, y se dirigió al restaurante con paso firme. Su objetivo era claro: conseguir las bebidas que me ayudarían a reponerme. Al cabo de unos minutos, regresó con un refresco y un agua fría. Se agachó de nuevo junto a mí, ofreciéndome el elixir que mi cuerpo, agradecido, absorbió con avidez.

—Muchísimas gracias, y te pido perdón por las molestias. Seguro tenías otras cosas que hacer más que asistir a una pelotuda que se desmayó.

Dije con pena, mirándolo a sus ojos marrones. Sentía cómo me ardían las mejillas. Solo entonces, al contemplar mi alrededor, me percaté de la bicicleta olvidada en el piso. Probablemente se había bajado de ella al verme en mi estado.

—No me agradezcas, solo hice algo que cualquiera haría.

Expresó mientras se giraba para buscar la bicicleta. Al levantarla, se regresó hacia mí y me dijo:

—Me llamo Enzo. ¿Y vos?

Le dije mi nombre con más confianza al ver que no parecía molesto ni apurado por irse. Le señalé el refresco, aún sin abrir, ofreciéndoselo.

—Eso es tuyo, no me lo tenés que devolver. Si yo fuera vos, también tomaría de ese. El azúcar te va a ayudar a recuperarte, todavía estás muy pálida. Si me permitís.

Con esa simple petición de consentimiento, acercó su mano a mi rostro apartando algunos cabellos que se me habían pegado por el sudor, aquellos que mi peinado no había podido contener y ahora se posaban rebeldes por donde ellos deseaban. Luego de poner mis cabellos en orden, su mano se quedó allí, posada en mi cuello. La sensación de tener aquel pesado miembro cerca de donde se medía mi pulso me inquietaba. ¿Y si podía sentir el acelerado ritmo al que iba mi corazón? Su rostro tan perfecto no era lo único que me embobaba; su amabilidad y sencillez con la que estaba allí delante de mí me estaba dejando el cerebro aún más atrofiado que cualquier síntoma debido al infernal clima.

Tomando otro largo trago de agua para disipar los efectos que él estaba teniendo en mí, tomé valor, lo miré a los ojos y le dije:

—Muchísimas gracias otra vez. Siento que te lo estoy diciendo ya muchas veces, pero de verdad estoy agradecida con tu gesto. Pudiste haberme ignorado y dejarme tirada en la calle, y no lo hiciste.

—No tenés nada que agradecerme. Decime, ¿vivís por acá? Así te acompaño y me quedo tranquilo de que llegaste bien.

Me respondió aún con su mano posada delicadamente sobre mi cuello, dejándole leves caricias y sus ojos mirándome fijamente, entre preocupados y con algo parecido a ternura.

—No vivo por acá, ni cerca. Solo vine porque acabo de dar un examen y quería recorrer. Iba super bien hasta hace unos momentos.

Ya dejando un poco de lado la vergüenza, le respondí un poco más animada y sin tanta timidez. Tanta, ya que tener a alguien tan bonito enfrente de ella solo hacia que se pusiera nerviosa.

—Ok, sin ser muy invasivo, ¿dónde vivís? Tal vez te puedo llevar o algo. Me preocupa que te vayas sola después de que casi te desmayas. Si querés, llamamos a alguna amiga o alguien que te venga a buscar.

—Vivo en Manga, así que un poco lejos de acá. Y mis amigas en estos momentos...

Dije entre risas, diciendo donde vivía y luego chequeando la hora: 16:04. Para saber dónde podrían estar alguna de mis amigas para contestarle.

—Mis amigas están todas trabajando, así que no queda de otra que irme sola. Quedate tranquilo que no me va a pasar nada.

Le contesté intentando calmarlo y asegurarle de que todo estaría bien y no me volvería a pasar nada.

—Te invitaría a mi casa, pero siento que para un primer encuentro es mucho. Me conformo por ahora acompañándote a tomar el bondi.

Volviendo por la calle Sarandí, por la tan calurosa Ciudad Vieja. Ese tipo de calor que hacía que el asfalto derritiera el calzado y definitivamente el tipo de calor que hace que se te baje la presión y encuentres a Enzo, quien ahora te tiene montada en su bicicleta mientras ambos ríen y disfrutan el pequeño aire que les llega por la velocidad con la que conduce el antes mencionado. Ese era el tipo de día caluroso que hacía aquel día en Montevideo.

[palskippah]

*Slaps some Los Angeles Azules on this married-divorced couple* WOOO

Hi!

I was listening to this song the other day and thought about making a stupid thing with Comic Ambrosius sitting in a plastic chair with a bottle (of alcohol) in hand with colorful lights like a party- but I drew this comic instead where nothing happens and it's just Ambrosius looking at Ballister jskdsj

I didn't give myself much time to draw it bc I got stuff to do (pipipi) but it's colorful and that's all that matters to me ajskd

Under the cut there's the first idea and other things too c:

HC that Ambrosius listens to vieja culia's (HC 2 that he's a thirty-something vieja culia too) music and drinks Gato Negro wine and cries for Ballister while regretting his life choices from fifteen years ago

BTWW I wrote down this idea aksjdsaj I hope it makes sense, also I base every single thing I make for them on the few first chapters I read of the comic on internet, so- you know🧍 each number is supposed to be a panel wiii

It's based over that moment in the Good Place where Michael's like 'what am i supposed to say-?' and then says all he has done wrong, and Chidi's like, yeah, exactly that. And so, Michael apologies for real and he confesses he's scared and waa (I think, i haven't rewatched the show in a while pipipi)

I swear that I had thought of something deeper but then I forgot to write it down at the moment and had to improvise now ajsdkadj Curse my terrible memory.

Anyways, maybe Ballister's getting the apology he wanted but he hates Ambrosius so much and has so much resentment that his apology just makes him angrier- in a Yeah, you should hate yourself, I'm glad you do way, but he still feels like weird bc the guy's apologizing, and he has fondness for Ambrosius despite everything, so he's like 🧍

(HC that he is very resentful and is very hurt/upset that it took Ambrosius so long to dignify himself to apologize?)

I love them so much your honor

By the way, I didn't know Comic Ambrosius was a tad bit shorter and I love that fact 10/10

[cartermagazine]

Today In History

Langston Hughes was a prolific writer who worked in many genres: poetry, fiction, nonfiction, drama, musicals, and children’s books.

As a popular newspaper columnist, Hughes created a fictitious Harlem narrator named Simple. Deeply interested in developing a black theater, Hughes founded the New Negro Theater in Los Angeles March 19, 1939.

His life and work were enormously important in shaping the artistic contributions of the Harlem Renaissance. He wanted to tell the stories of his people in ways that reflected their actual culture, including both their suffering and their love of music, laughter, and language itself.

CARTER™ Magazine

[hooked-on-elvis]

ELVIS interviewed during filming of 'Change of Habit'

— AMONG OTHER THINGS, YOU'LL LEARN ABOUT HOW ELVIS DID SOME IMPROVISATION IN HIS LINES FOR THE MOVIES AND HOW SELF CONSCIOUS HE WAS ABOUT HIS OWN FILMS

Filmed on location in the Los Angeles area and at Universal Studios during March and April 1969, Change of Habit was released in the United States on November 10, 1969.

Elvis Presley On Set: You Won’t ask Elvis Anything Too Deep?

Elvis talks, but he doesn't say much

BY WILLIAM OTTERBURN-HALL HOLLYWOOD – The notice outside the big grey double-doors was simple and to the point. SET CLOSED, ABSOLUTELY NO ADMITTANCE. You find notices like this outside a lot of film studios, and they tend to have a certain elasticity. This one, outside what looked like an aircraft hangar but was actually Stage D at Universal Studios, meant it. Inside, Elvis Presley was filming. And where Elvis goes, the barriers go up as if some sinister germ warfare experiment were being carried on within. Like a suckling infant, he is swathed and coddled against the realities of the world outside, as if he were made of rare porcelain rather than hewn from good old-fashioned Tennessee stock. But this day he was on show. I had been given the magic formula. The secret open-sesame known only by its brand name of “Colonel Parker’s Okay” had been handed me. The doors swung wide, and I was in. They say Colonel Parker is the man who built Elvis from the erotic gyrating days of the swiveling Pelvis through 14 long and fruitful summers to his present status, by pushing and pulling his protege through the tricky cross-currents of pop music taste. I wouldn’t know. I had asked to see him, this onetime Texas fairground barker, to thank him for the green light. But he was always somewhere else. In his office at Universal, over at Metro, down in Palm Springs, in Las Vegas to lay the trail for the next live show... always somewhere else. No matter. Who needed Colonel Parker when Elvis himself was alive and well and filming? The Publicity Man who escorted me as close as if he were handcuffed said proudly: “I’d like to work with him again, he’s so sweet and uncomplicated. I was surprised you got through – no one’s talked to him yet, you know. There must have been a good breeze blowing.” The good breeze continued to blow as far as the set. A mauve-walled pad with kitchen adjacent and a king-size bed visible through half-drawn yellow curtains. Elvis sat at a table, staring at his hands, while three mini-skirted girls, Mary Tyler Moore, Barbara McNair and Jane Elliott, scurried around with trays of food.

L-R: Mary Tyler Moore, Jane Elliott and Barbara McNair.

The film is about three nuns who pose as nurses to “identify with the people” in a Negro ghetto in New York. The title is Change of Habit (yes, it is) and stars Elvis as a medic who falls for one of the nuns. Elvis is wearing a paint-stained blue denim shirt and tight blue jeans. He looks relaxed and affable and rather meatier around the jaw-line than one remembers from previous films. Marriage (back in May 1967 to Priscilla Beaulieu) is obviously agreeing with him. His eyes have that smoky slow-burn of the old-time movie vamp. He seizes a guitar and strums a few chords. It’s the last week of shooting, and like the good days between exams and the end of term.

The atmosphere on the set is hip and loose, full of leather-clad youth and clever in-talk. The director is thin and intense, wears a check shirt and gym shoes, and is called Billy Graham, which is going to look interesting on the posters of a swinging nun. Elvis produces some dialogue. He is never likely to win an award as an actor, but he knows what the kids want and he gives it to them. The girls are talking about a party. The cameras turn. Elvis says: “You get a lot of people down here on a Saturday night, and all the old hates come out. Before you know it they’re bombed out of their skulls and you’ve got World War III on your hands.”

The scene is this one below. NO, it was not cut out during the editing of this movie.

Earth-quaking stuff. But this simple homespun philosophy is off-key. “Bombed out of their skulls” wasn’t in the script. And the director isn’t too happy about it. “It’s a good line,” says Elvis. “Okay, okay,” says Billy Graham. The line stays. Maybe it will come out in the cutting room, but it’s there for now. “The whole thing is downhill,” says a technician. “He don’t talk to anyone, except his own friends.” There is no sign of tension, but then Elvis has nothing to be tense about. He can go on churning out the same thing for another decade, and they’ll still queue to see it. If he’s over the top, as some unkindly souls occasionally try to make out, he doesn’t seem bothered. He is 34 . . . Raised in Memphis . . . Once a truck-driver, stumbled into records, took the world by storm as the original snake-hips . . . Now lives in cloistered seclusion in a colonial mansion near Nashville, with a Rolls, a solid gold Cadillac, a wife, a daughter (Lisa Marie, aged one) and several bodyguards for company . . . Has made 29 films, grossing 220 million dollars at the box office, and sold more than 200 million records.

Elvis Presley and director William A. Graham on the set of Change Of Habit (Universal 1969) between takes.

Elvis heads for his trailer in the far corner. A group of friends (known in some quarters as the Memphis Mafia) close around him like a football scrum after a loose ball. The code-word is given. I am beckoned over. The good breeze was still blowing. “You won’t probe too deep, will you?” The Publicity Man asks anxiously. “This is just an informal chat, that’s the deal. So keep it light and airy, okay?” Well . . . okay. I checked my notes. Does Elvis fly high on acid trips? Does he see himself as a prophet for the new generation? Does he think his style is too square? Does he have any sexual hang-ups? His marriage altered his attitude to life in any way? Does he kick his cat? Does he have a cat to kick? What are his views on pop, religion, hippies, demonstrators, Vietnam? Stuff like that. No, I wasn’t going to probe too deep. In the dressing room Elvis shakes hands in a firm grip. “This is Charlie, this is Doc.” Two small, burly men light leather jackets and open-neck shirts rise and shine briefly and subside again. The trailer feels a bit crowded.

Elvis Presley on the set of Change Of Habit (Universal 1969). Mary Tyler Moore, Elvis and director William A. Graham share a joke between takes.

Elvis talks. He speaks slowly and carefully, and puts a lot of space between his words. “The film? Uh, well . . . it’s a change of pace for me, yeah. It’s more serious than my usual movies, but it don’t mean I’m aiming for a big dramatic acting scene, no sir. The way I’m headed, I want to try something different now, but not too different. I did this film because the script was good, and I guess I know by now what the public goes for." “Most of the scripts that come my way are all the same. They’ve all got a load of songs in them, but I just did a Western called 'Charro', which hasn’t any songs ‘cepting the title tune. It did have a couple of nude scenes, but they’ve been cut. Anyhow, can you imagine a dramatic Western where the hero breaks out into song all the time?” He has said plenty, and now he leaps to his feet, hands flashing to imaginary holsters, and sings in a deep drawl: “Go for your guns . . . you’ve got ’til sundown to get outa town . . . ” It could be the start of a promising sketch. The others follow suit, singing, clowning, all on their feet. If this is the Memphis Mafia, they’re a friendly bunch.

Elvis on set of 'Change of Habit' (Universal 1969) talking to fans.

Elvis sits down, and everyone stops singing. He eyes himself in the dressing room mirror. “I don’t plan too far ahead, but I’m real busy for a while now. I’ve got a date in Vegas, and maybe another film after that. Then I’m going to try to get to Europe, because I’ve always promised I would and I’ve got some good, faithful fans over there.” Slow-talking Elvis may be. But he certainly isn’t the slow-witted hick from the backwoods his detractors make out. If he is, then he’s a better actor than they give him credit for. Get through to him, and you find a pleasant, honest, not-too-articulate hometown boy who has been protected for his own good from the hysterical periphery of his present world. The party was warming up. Elvis cracked a gag. Charlie cracked a gag. There was a call from the door. Elvis was wanted, and the good breeze was still blowing as he made for the set, one hand on my shoulder. Charlie and Doc were all smiles.

Elvis and his manager, Colonel Parker, on set of 'Change of Habit' (Universal 1969).

“Okay?” said the P.M. “You did real fine.” "Well . . . not quite." I said. "This Colonel Parker, would he be around for a word later?" Elvis stopped in his tracks. The P.M. went a whiter shade of pale, and whispered something to a friend. The friend nodded in sympathy. “I must tell you about an experience I had like that once,” he said, eyeing me as if I’d just crawled out of the woodwork. Elvis said: “I think he’s in Palm Springs. I’m not sure...” He hurried off. The P.M. said: “Don’t let’s push our luck any more. We never trouble him for too long a time. You should be very happy. You had more than anyone’s had in years.” Somewhere along the line, unaccountably, the good breeze had dropped. This story is from the July 12th, 1969 issue of Rolling Stone.

Source: www.rollingstone.com

[luceracastro]

Teacher's Pet

Part 2

Professor!Esteban Kukurickza x Reader

Summary: After a few months of starting your literature course you seem to find it harder with time to ignore your professor, little did you know you were driving him crazy as well.

Warnings: Not much in this part (Don't worry we'll get there soon ;)

Masterlist

you looked at the big A on your paper which was written with a red ink marker, you smiled to yourself proud of your grade, you looked over to Adelia who you helped out with the assignment and she smiled from ear to ear showing you the bright red A on her paper mouthing a thank you

you nodded smiling and looked to the front of the class, the lecture had started and Esteban couldn't keep his eyes off you, to try and cover it up he sometimes looks around the class or paces back and forth as he speaks but sometimes both of your eyes meet and you offer him a kind smile

Such a sweet girl, he thought "Senorita T/n, que pensaste de la lectura de hoy?" he asked and you tilted your head "Era bien interesante, yo se que va ayudar con los trabajos que nos diste" you said and he nodded "Yo se que siempre puedo confiar en ti" he said and you nodded "Si, siempre" the room all of a sudden felt a little hot

"Bueno que tenga un buen dia" you said and he nodded before you walked out letting a breath you didn't even know you were holding out. walking into the coffee shop you walked into the lunchroom putting your stuff away in your locker and moving to get your apron.

your job was to work as the cashier, sometimes to help prepare the drinks and serve baked goods or clean up , you did a little bit of everything, your boss said he trusted you the most considering how good you are with the customers. He's seen you work around the shop multitasking and getting almost everything done on your own.

"Entonces aqui trabajas?" you looked up and saw your Professor, you were surprised really, he's never been here before and you'd worked here for two years now "Hola Profe, Esteban" You were quick to correct yourself "Hola linda" he greeted you back and you smiled

"Que te puedo agarrar?" you asked and he looked up at the menu "Un cafe grande, negro por favor y eso nomas" he pulled out his wallet and you gave him his total and he paid and you moved to serve him his coffee

"aqui esta" you handed him his coffee with a sweet smile on your lips "Gracias querida" he smiled and you nodded "Que tenga buen dia" you said "Usted tambien linda, cuídate" he said and you nodded the same warm feeling returning to your belly.

"Y ese quien es?" your boss was standing behind you making you jump at the sound of his voice "Nomas un Maestro que conozco," you said moving to wipe down the counter and he nodded "Bueno iba preguntar si podrías cerrar, Melissa llamó que esta enferma y te prometo que te pagarán horas extras" your boss said and you really had nothing else to do and didn't mind more pay.

"Esta bien, lo hago no te preocupes" he smiled a sigh escaping his lips "Vos es un Angel linda muchas gracias" you nodded smiling at him before returning to work.

the whole day you were on your feet helping customers, cleaning the shop, and doing other things. "Adios T/n, buenas noches" Nereyda a coworker of yours had left the shop after offering to help pick up a bit "Adios, con cuidado," you said back sweeping the floor, after you had finished cleaning you got your belongings from your locker, and locked up the shop

you wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself since Spain's weather was unforgivable with the harsh cold wind at night, a honk made you jump a little before turning to see the car responsible for the sound, it drove a bit past you before stopping right beside you the window rolling down

"Apenas vas saliendo?" it was Esteban, you were honestly starting to think he might've been following you or something but then you remember he might've just been around yet you would've kinda found the whole following you around thing flattering

you nodded "Si, tenia que cerrar," you said "Y nadie puede venir por ti?" he asked almost with disbelief in his voice and you shook your head "Si no te molestaria pudiera llevarte a casa" he said and you froze with a stir in your belly, was he really offering you a ride home?

you honestly didn't think this was too appropriate either but then you remember you both are responsible adults and a simple ride home is innocent really "La verdad no te quiero molestar, esta bien" you tried to kindly decline but he shook his head

"La verdad linda, no es ninguna molestia" he said and you sighed, he didn't seem to give up or mind so you nodded "Bueno, si te lo agradeceria," you said and he nodded getting out the car to open the passenger side for you

You thanked him before getting in the car and he dismissed it as no problem, the warm smile on his face made you feel at ease. the drive had just started and you felt like you could fall asleep right then and there, the car was warm and the seats were comfortable for someone who had been on their feet all day

he had asked you your address before taking off so if you wanted to you could fall asleep but then you reminded yourself that this was your Professors car and you didn't want the awkwardness of that certain situation "Te ves cansada querida" he mentioned looking over at you and you turned you head to look at him with a small sleepy smile

"La verdad si, estuve trabajando toda esta semana sin parar" you said letting out a yawn covering your mouth and he thought it was just the cutest damn thing "Bueno si quieres te puedes dormir y podría despertarte" he offered and you thought about it

"Bueno si no es ningún problema" you started and he shook his head "No lo es querida, duerme," he urged you and you nodded slightly tilting your head to the side and the tiredness took over in seconds.

Esteban had looked over at you, he swore you looked like an angel and he couldn't help but smile, then the thought of how wrong it was plagued his mind, it was weird and not accepted to look at his own student in that way

yet he couldn't help but to keep stealing glances at you as you slept peacefully, he could tell you had a rough day. he stopped right in front of your apartment building and turned to face you as you slept

he really didn't want to wake you but he had too, better for you to be in a bed than a stiff car seat he thought "linda, linda estamos aqui" he whispered to not startle you and your eyes fluttered open

you then looked around realizing you guys made it to your place, you put on a small smile "Perdon" you chuckled a little rubbing your eyes "No no tranquila nena" you looked out the window "Bueno, gracias por el aventón, de verdad te lo agradezco" you said and he nodded "De nada linda," you smiled at him one last time "Que tenga buen noche" you said before opening the door "Usted tambien querida, descansa"

getting out the car you had carefully closed the door walking up to the entrance of your building, turning you saw him still there and you waved goodbye which he did in return, he didn't leave until you were inside then he drove off

once you unlocked your door and entered your apartment you sighed dropping everything to the floor, your whole body was in pain and the headache you had from the lack of sleep and food was unbearable

you didn't have the energy to eat no matter how hungry you were so you just went to your room and kicked your shoes off plopping down on your bed, as soon as your head hit the pillow you were out like a light.

the next morning you were in the worst pain, but you managed with a bowl of cereal, water, and some Ibuprofen

you had taken the bus to get to school, you lent a kind smile to Esteban as he returned the gesture, sitting in your usual seat with the class still semi empty you sighed taking out the materials you knew were needed for the lecture and class in general

he came to stand in front of you, he looked down at you and in that moment you realized just how tall he actually was "Profe" you said you both weren't alone, in the back there were a couple students who were distracted with one another but still better to be safe about it.

"Senorita, como estas? bien?" he asked and you nodded "Si, gracias por preguntar" you said and he nodded "Si, y dormiste bien?" he asked and you could sense the worry and care in his voice which made you warm inside, "Trate" you chuckled and he gave you a look "Tienes que descansar" he said and you nodded "Entiendo pero tampoco puedo dejar de ir a trabajar or faltar clase" you said and he nodded

"Mira si un dia no te sientes bien o nesecitas descansar dime y yo te mando la lectura y hasta te puedo ayudar despues de los clases," he offered and you were a bit surprised about it "De verdad?" you asked a brow raised and he nodded chuckling a little "Claro que si linda, yo haria lo que sea para mi alumna favorita" he winked at you making your stomach erupt in butterflies and you nodded a smile on your lips "Gracias profe" you chuckled a little

"bueno queirda, aye vienen los de mas, pero tenga en cuenta eh" he gave you a pointed look and you nodded "Si claro, gracias otra vez" he nodded and walked to the front of the class

did he just wink at you? did he give you a free pass most of the others don't get?

A/n: Hope ya'll are enjoying I promise it will get more and more interesting just don't wanna rush the relationship or anything so please bare with me babes! anyways comments, reblogs, and likes are greatly appreciated but no need if you do not want to just as long as you guys enjoy this for yourselves and read something that satisfies ya'll <33333 also if you'd like to be tagged let me know!

taglist: @madame-fear @catiwinky

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Earlene Dennis Brown

Earlene Dennis Brown, a three-time Olympian, was the first African American woman to win a medal in the shot put. Throughout her life Brown excelled in a variety of sports, gaining attention, recognition, and honors. She is the only shot-putter to compete in three consecutive Olympics (1956, 1960, 1964). Brown won Olympic bronze for Women’s shot put in 1960; was Amateur Athletic Union Champion in shot put (1956-62, 1964); won Amateur Athletic Union Championship, discus (1958-59, 1961); won gold medal in shot put, silver medal in discus, USA-USSR dual meet (1958); was shot put and discus champion, Pan-American Games (1959); and placed 12th in shot put, Tokyo Olympics (1964).

Earlene Dennis, born July 11, 1935, in Latexo, Texas to Espenola Tillis Dennis, a domestic servant, and Willie Dennis, a semipro baseball player with the Negro League in Texas. When her parents separated in 1938, Dennis remained with her mother and they moved to Los Angeles in 1945. Dennis’s mother married Julius Walker in 1946. Dennis attended Jordan High School in South Central Los Angeles, where she excelled in track and field. Her athletic ability was noticed by many, including Adeline Valdez, Dennis’s high school gym teacher, Josephine Spearman, and Coach Clarence Mackey, who tried to get her to compete in the Helsinki Olympics (in 1952 in Helsinki, Finland). Valdez is credited with putting the first discus in Dennis’ hands while her history teacher taught her to shot put. Before competing in shot put and discus, Dennis anchored the relay team.

In 1956, Brown finished in the top ten in the shot put and the discus. In 1958 Brown received the #1 world ranking and became the first American to break the 50-foot barrier. Brown won gold medals in the shot put as well as discus events at the Pan American Games in 1959. At the Tokyo Olympics in 1964 Brown placed 12th in the shot put.

Brown retired from the shot put competition in 1965. The same year she took up another sport, roller derby. Brown’s career in skating began as a blocker for the New York Bombers.

In 1975, Brown retired from all athletic ventures and worked as a beautician to provide for herself and family. On May 1, 1983, Earlene Dennis Brown passed away in Compton, California at the age of 47. On December 1, 2005, Earlene Brown was posthumously inducted in the National Track and Field Hall of Fame by the USA Track and Field (USATF) Association during the Jesse Owens Awards and the Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony in Jacksonville, Florida.