#mi querida ana

[patriwoso]

a betrayal

alexia putellas x reader

If someone asked from the outside, you'd say Barca was like a family.

Claudia was your sister, a twin. You were double trouble.

Patri was the older sister.

Alexia was the mom. Soccer mom. She made sure you and Claudia kept in line.

You teased Ana and said she was the grandmother, eventually agreeing to be the Aunt though.

Mapi and Ingrid were like Soccer moms too, although sometimes you'd argue Mapi was too childish and she was the baby of the family.

The family was tight. You had your groups within the team and they were close.

When Alexia and Aitana went to the World Cup, you felt betrayed. Confused and upset why they would go against what they'd said the whole time.

You lost some of your family for a few months. You didn't want to talk to them, acknowledge them.

Going to a senior world cup had been yours and Claudia's dream. Mapi and Patri had experienced it before but you were yet to reach that stage of your career.

The first few days were spent crying in Mapi's arms. You felt overwhelmed and upset that this was happening, it wasn't fair.

Alexia had tried to reach out to you but you chose not to reply. Watching the calls on the screen until they rang out. Her messages appearing amongst other notifications.

Hey small stuff. Miss you x

Y/N I'm sorry, I love you ❤️

Please call me. I want to talk to you Y/N/N.

You spent a few weeks with Patri and Pina on holiday in Mallorca, boat trips and tanning on the beach.

The nights were spent cuddled up together watching films, sharing popcorn and toffees.

"Claudi stop wriggling." You'd tug on the blanket, pulling back what she had taken away from you.

"I'm not!"

"That pair of you... your children!" Patri sighs.

And then preseason training started again.

You were with the Barca B team like usual, some of the internationals joining back once their time in Australia and New Zealand had come to an end.

August 20th came around too fast.

You had stayed at Pina's place that night, sharing a bed like you would in the youth age groups on away camps.

"You know whatever happens today we were right for staying home. We stuck by our morals and what we believe P." You tell her, laying in bed.

She didn't reply but let out a giggle when your stomach rumbled loud.

"Let's go out for breakfast."

-

The next morning wasn't quite the same. You lay in Mapi's arms crying. Ingrid rubbing your back softly.

"It's not fair" You sobbed, rubbing your teary eyes on you sleeve.

"I know, mi amor." She kissed the top of your head.

"She messaged me again yesterday." You whispered, pulling out your phone and showing her.

"Y/N! You haven't replied to her messages since July 2nd!" Mapi slaps your arm.

"And?!" You cry, keeping tucked under her arm, watching as she scrolls through the phone.

"Mi querida, you can't just shut her out completely." Ingrid tells you, tucking some hair behind you ear.

"You have to remember that this was also best for Alexia's rehab and injury... As much as we both hate her being there." Mapi tells you, a bit reluctantly. "Message her."

You snatch you phone back, hovering over the keyboard before typing out 'I love you Alexia. I'm sorry'.

The blue button is hit and you chuck you phone on the end of the sofa, not wanting to do anything more.

"Baby steps I suppose." Mapi sighs.

-

You stayed off of social media for a while, not replying to anymore of Alexia's messages. You decided the one reply was enough for now.

Seeing Spain win was hard. You knew the preseason tour was coming up so you had something to keep your mind off of it.

You hadn't expected Alexia to come to Mexico with the team, it being just a week after the world cup final.

You’d spoken to Claudia and Patri one night after training. They didn’t know how to act, you all loved Alexia but the betrayal hurt a lot.

-

“Just smile.” Ingrid’s arm wrapped around you. keeping you close by her side.

Alexia and Mapi had turned up to the preseason tour camp a day after the rest of the team.

“I don’t want to see her, Ingrid.” You drop your head to the side to lean on her, the taller women’s arm pulling you closer into her.

“You can’t avoid her forever. She’s Alexia, and your her favourite on this team. She’ll want to see you.”

“I am not her favourite…”

Ingrid chuckles. “You so are, the favouritism is ridiculous y/n/n. She’s a football mom to you and your her favourite football daughter.”

You keep yourself in Ingrid’s arms, she’s a good hugger and radiates a lot of comfort for you.

“Alexia and María have arrived, they’ll join us in a few moments.” Jona announces to you all as your stood around on the training field.

You start picking at your fingers, a nervous habit of yours.

Your mucking around with Jana and Claudia when you see Alexia and Mapi jogging around the pitch.

The coaching staff split you up into groups of 8, yourself ending up with 6 Barca B players and Marta.

“You alright, grandma?” You smile cheekily and Marta slaps you on the arm.

“Hey Alexia!” You head one of the younger girls say.

You spin around on your heels and see Alexia approach the group.

“Jona said to join you guys.” She smiles, making eye contact with you before you look away.

You look at the floor, the ball bag, anything except Alexia, hoping she’ll leave you alone.

Truth is that you miss her, the 2 and a half months away from her has been a torture as your so used to being with her all the time.

“Hey.” You see her boots appear in front of you.

You turn around and head to the water cooler, getting a bottle out and drinking from it, anything to keep away from Alexia.

You didn’t want to do this, but you didn’t want to face her either.

You’d managed the whole training session without direct conversation, you ignored her stares across the field and worked your way to Claudia and Patri when she approached you.

-

That evening, you gathered in the hotel lobby. A group of fans asking Alexia for pictures and autographs.

You felt uncomfortable watching it, standing besides Mapi and Ingrid again.

“I miss her.” You sigh, whispering softly under your breath.

“Talk to her.” Ingrid whispers back. “She’ll want you too.”

Alexia works herself away from the fans, trying to get back into the group.

She pushes in between you and Caroline, listening to Jona talk before he dismisses you all.

Before she can say anything, or walk away, you through your arms around her shoulders and bury your head into her neck.

Neither of you say anything, you don’t have to.

She rubs your back softly, holding you tight in her arms as if she was afraid you would run off and ignore her again.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles.

“I missed you.” A few tears spill from your eyes, soaking her training top a little.

“I missed you too, small stuff. You’ve gotten taller.” She smiles, kissing your forehead and wiping your teary eyes.

“Ale I hate you so much right now” You shake you head, moving back away from her. “But i love you and I’ve missed you and I don’t want you to do that ever again please.” You tear up some more.

She nods, pulling you back into her arms again. “I love you.”

[scuderiasundays]

by your side

summary: pinterest boards, rehearsal dinners, and late night professions of love written from carlos’ pov 🪭 a continuation of the smoothest operation + a little insta au at the end!

words: 867

a/n: i hated making you wait so i tried my very best to fit in your req, anon! my sincere apologies if it’s not what you’d hoped for. tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee and @diorleclerc just because. let me know if i should turn this into a series! feedback is much appreciated as always. hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

July 2022 

You hated it when reporters asked who wore the pants in your relationship, the outdated implication that one partner should have the upper hand over the other. The simple truth was that you two struck the perfect balance. She remained levelheaded at times when you’d go into what you playfully coined "full Latino mode." She had a tendency to overthink, and you’d sat by her side on countless nights, hand in hand, whispering, "Everything will fall into place, mi querida. You’ll see." She was all of the best feelings in the world in human form: clean sheets on a freshly made bed, the first bite into a decadent burger, champagne showers after a sensational drive.

The sun cast a gentle, orange glow on her face as you rubbed your eyes, stepping into the living room. She had fallen asleep on your off-white couch, still in her scrubs after a long night shift. Her laptop lay open on the marble coffee table, a Pinterest board of wedding paraphernalia on full display. The ever-growing F1 calendar had kept you on the go, leaving your fiancée to check off the majority of your pre-wedding to-do list by herself. You couldn’t put your finger on just why you were tearing up, a surge of emotions taking over as you scrolled through the photos. You reached the bottom of the page when you stumbled upon a Polaroid of her in a white dress.

Months ago, you’d overheard her and Ana talk about fabrics as they baked banana bread. "Chiffon? No. Lace? No. Ay, tulle!" You exclaimed, so caught up you hadn’t even noticed her stirring awake. You quietly closed her laptop shut.

"Is this for your next racing suit? I’d say lace is a bit scandalous but, hey, give the people what they want," she giggled as she slowly got up. The espresso machine, a Christmas gift from her, hummed to life. She was making you an espresso out of habit, strong just the way you preferred. You breathed a sigh of relief; grateful her mind had been hazy enough to brush off that you’d been listing off wedding dress fabrics mere minutes ago.

"What did I do to deserve you?" You wrapped your hands around her waist and kissed the nape of her neck. A year from now, she’d be walking down the aisle in that very dress. A year from now, she would be yours for all eternity.

July 2023

The season had been far from kind to you and your teammate Charles. Thankfully, Y/N had taken some time off work leading up to the wedding, providing some much-needed relief from the relentless cycle of "flight, race, simulator, repeat." The pressure and pent-up frustration could have easily consumed you by now if it weren’t for the thought of her eagerly waiting at each checkered flag. Regardless of whether you ended the race with 25 points or none, she was the only person you wanted to see.

You had never been one to voluntarily go on record about the love you two shared. It felt too sacrosanct, too precious. It, nonetheless, was no surprise when press from worldwide gathered in Avila, eager to catch a glimpse of you and Y/N’s big day. Both your sisters had gotten married in this town and, if there was one thing about the Sainz family, it was that they were big on tradition.

This is why you weren’t all too surprised when your parents revealed that you and Y/N would be spending your wedding eve apart. The rehearsal dinner had gone relatively smoothly, despite a few hiccups along the way. Rupert’s daughter Harlow Reyes had refused to hand over the rings, claiming them as her own. Lando attempted to deliver a heartfelt speech but ended up cry laughing in the way only he would, leaving him unable to finish. Yet, in the end, you were just happy to have everyone you loved under one roof.

"Care to join me?" Y/N motioned toward the vineyard, an effortless smile adorning her face. The night had fallen, but the gentle glow of fairy lights illuminated her silhouette.

"By this time tomorrow, we’ll be husband and wife," she remarked. He could see the glint in her eye as she breathed in the thick summer air. She was a sight to behold in her white vest and tailored pants. In that moment, you thought to yourself, "I’m the luckiest man alive," as you made your way towards her.

You wanted to thank her for everything. For answering the phone at 3 AM when jet lag and stress left you gasping for air on a bathroom floor oceans away. For being the beautiful face you could steal glances at as you sat behind the wheel during spontaneous road trips. For making you feel like you were worthy of being loved. For being your constant.

Instead, you simply said, "Every day, starting tomorrow, will be the best day of my life because I get to spend it by your side. You have all my heart, Y/N. Every single piece." You proceeded to squeeze her hand three times, your secret signal for "I love you" because, boy, did you mean it.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by carlossainz55, heidiberger_, and 57,575 others

yourusername: one more sleep until forever

fan1: considering a red eye to spain just for my “speak now” moment 🫠 i am delusional and live 3,000 miles away

carlossainz55: this distance is unbearable. come back?

charles_leclerc: she’s literally a floor above us, mate. go to 🛏️

fan2: i’m from avila and ran into the whole grid + some retired drivers this weekend

fan3: retired drivers? seb? 🤔🤭

landonorris: i vow (wink wink) to get through the speech tomorrow! i just get all choked up because i love you both so much

yourusername: lies! you and i both know you lost it when @alex_albon started pulling funny faces 😤

[morganaspendragonss]

part four: at a family event

my contribution to the birthday event for the wonderful @lire-casander !

era: break up prompt: at a family event tags/warnings: blood, kitchen accidents, unsavoury comments personal notes: lire, mi querida!!!! te quiero tanto y espero que hayas gustado este regalito, te lo mereces! eres una gran amiga y no puedo decirte lo mucho que te aprecio; con suerte, un día nos vemos otra vez. conocerte es un privilegio y fue un placer escribir esto por ti. espero que hayas tenido un buen cumpleaños y te deseo lo mejor para el año que viene. con amor, holly xxx

ao3 | 1.1k | please check ao3 for spanish translations

It doesn’t matter how old he gets, Sunday dinners at Tía Lucy’s will always take Carlos back to his childhood. The ranch has barely changed in all these years, still the same hand-crocheted doily covering the same oak dining table that has seen many a Reyes family gathering. The same pictures hang on the wall, the same smell filters through from the kitchen, and the noise that greets him before he’s even halfway up the gravel path is the same.

The door is already open – everyone is welcome at Tía Lucy’s table, including whatever animals might choose to venture in – and Carlos has to smile as he steps into the well-practised chaos. It’s a welcome distraction from the silence that has filled his life ever since TK left two months ago.

It’s his own fault, really, for letting himself get so used to having the 126 around, the unpredictability they brought to his days. They still reach out every now and then but… He knows they’re just being polite. He knows they’re on TK’s side.

He’s lived most of his life in silence, but this time it’s different. This time, he let himself believe it was over for good.

But at least he still has days like today. Ana’s kids are instantly on him, Isabela chattering about the swimming badge she earned this week and Diego trying to drag him out back to referee their soccer game.

He’s saved by his mother crossing the room to wrap him in a hug.

“Hola mamá,” he greets, breathing in the smell of her perfume; something else that hasn’t changed in all these years.

“Ay, mi Carlitos.” She squeezes him tight, then pulls back and scrutinises him. “Te ves cansado, mijo, ¿estás durmiendo?”

He rolls his eyes fondly and takes a step back. The truth is, he hasn’t been sleeping well, but his mother doesn’t need to know that. “Sí, mamá.”

She hums like she doesn’t believe him, but doesn’t press the issue, which is a relief, though it doesn’t last long; only until her next question, in fact.

“And TK?” she asks, craning her neck as though TK might be hiding behind Carlos.

Carlos swallows and drops his gaze. “Working,” he says, which might be true for all he knows. Or maybe he’s out with the gang, or maybe he’s not in Austin at all. Or…

But it’s none of his business.

If his mother notices anything amiss, she doesn’t comment on it; she just pats his arm and says, “You tell that boy he works too much.”

And then, “We miss him, you know.”

It’s this that stops him so firmly in his tracks, that makes the ache he’s tried so hard to squash flare and consume his entire body. His mother’s words, We miss him, you know, cut him down to the bone, because they remind him of just how much more than TK he lost that day. He lost his family too, this relationship with them that he was just starting to get back.

Carlos wishes, briefly, viciously, without really meaning it, that he’d never met TK at all.

“Carlitos?” His mother is looking back at him, frowning, and she comes closer to cup his cheek, searching his face for answers. “¿Qué te pasa?”

For a moment, the truth begs to be told; he even opens his mouth to let it pass. But the words stick in his throat, sour and sharp, so Carlos swallows them down again and smiles, taking his mother’s arm. “No te preocupes, mamá,” he says. “Estoy bien.”

*

Dinner is loud and Carlos is grateful to be able to slip away to the kitchen, with the excuse of doing the dishes, once it’s over. He loves his family, but being around that table, squashed between his sisters and their husbands, had reminded him just how lonely he is now. Just how lonely he hadn’t been.

But this kitchen… He grew up here, practically; he knows every notch and stain on the counter intimately, and he should be able to find some peace here.

Would be able to, if only his ears weren’t burning with the way his uncles and cousins are talking about him in the front room, not bothering to check their volume as though they’ve forgotten that he speaks Spanish too.

“¡Qué cara tan patética tuvo Carlitos!” That’s his cousin Daniel, halfway to passing out in the barn already, judging by the slur to his voice.

“Por favor, está siempre así, con un palo en el culo.” Tío José, probably sucking on a cigarette despite Tía Lucy’s insistence on not smoking indoors.

“Ya saben lo que necesita él,” Daniel says. He pauses for effect, or to drain yet another beer; Carlos neither knows or cares. “Una buena chica pa’ mamarle la pija.”

Daniel roars with laughter and Carlos clenches his jaw, scrubbing harder at the pan in his hands. The rest of the group are noticeably silent, and he can almost feel the way they’re looking at the door to make sure he isn’t going to walk in at any moment. It’s almost tempting.

The laughter dies down abruptly.

“Oye, ¿Para qué fue eso, cabrón?” Daniel says, sounding somewhat more sober now.

“Carlos es gay, pendejo,” Carolina, Daniel’s sister, puts in. “Y ya tiene novio. ¿Recuerdas el gringo?”

“¡No manches! ¿¿¿En serio???” A pause, then, “Bueno, no es de extrañar que le guste tanto ese palo.”

More laughter, this time all of them joining in, and Carlos feels the rage threatening to boil over. He yanks the pan out of the water and slams it on the draining board, then sweeps all the cutlery into the sink in one. The eyes of the room are well and truly on him now and his cheeks burn with shame as he scrubs and scrubs and–

“¡Mierda!”

The dishwater turns dark as Carlos holds his hand over it, blood dripping from the gaping wound across his palm. It stings and he knows he should deal with it before the bleeding gets too bad, but he’s stuck there, pinned down under the weight of his family’s gazes, his heartbeat rushing in his ears as his blood drips, drips, drips.

Then hands are on his shoulders, turning him around, wrapping a towel around his palm, and he’s looking into his mother’s eyes, and he can’t do it anymore.

She sits him down away from everyone and quietly bandages his wound, not saying a word as he cries like he’s a child again, suffering from a scraped knee after playing with his cousins.

“Mamá, I…”

And there it is again, the truth, waiting for him to say he left me, I screwed it all up, I’m so sorry.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

“Thank you.”

She smiles at him, reaches out to stroke his hair. “Always.”

[persepolisph]

ULTIMA CARTA DE PIZARNIK A SILVINA OCAMPO.

Tristísimo día en que te telefoneé para no escuchar sino voces espúreas, indignas, originarias de criaturas que los hacedores de golems hacían frente a los espejos.

Pero vos, mi amor, no me desmemories. Vos sabés cuánto y sobre todo sufro. Acaso las dos sepamos que te estoy buscando. Sea como fuere, aquí hay un bosque musical para dos niñas fieles: S. y A.

Escribime, la muy querida. Necesito de la bella certidumbre de tu estar aquí, aquí abajo; sin embargo, yo traduzco sin ganas, mi asma es impresionante (para festejarme descubrí que a Martha le molesta el ruido de mi respiración de enferma). ¿Por qué, Silvina adorada, cualquier mierda respira bien y yo me quedo encerrada y soy Fedra y soy Ana Frank?

El sábado, en Bécquar, corrí en moto y choqué. Me duele todo (no me dolería si me tocaras –y esto no es una frase zalamera). Como no quise alarmar a los de la casa, nada dije. Me eché al sol. Me desmayé pero por suerte nadie lo supo. Me gusta contarte estas gansadas porque sólo vos me las escuchás. ¿Y tu libro? El mío acaba de salir. Formato precioso. Te lo envío a Posadas 1650, quien, por ser amante de Quintana, se lo transmitirá entre escogencia y escogencia.

Les envié así un cuaderniyo venezolano con un no sé qué de degutante [desagradable] (como dicen Ellos). Pero que te editen en 15 días.

Oh Sylvette, si estuvieras. Claro es que te besaría una mano y lloraría, pero sos mi paraíso perdido. Vuelto a encontrar y perdido. Al carajo los greco-romanos. Yo adoro tu cara. Y tus piernas y tus manos que llevan a la casa del recuerdo-sueños, urdida en un más allá del pasado verdadero.

Silvine, mi vida (en el sentido literal) le escribí a Adolfito para que nuestra amistad no se duerma. Me atreví a rogarle que te bese (poco: 5 o 6 veces) de mi parte y creo que se dio cuenta de que te amo sin fondo. A él lo amo pero es distinto, vos sabés, ¿no? Además lo admiro y es tan dulce y aristocrático y simple. Pero no es vos. Te dejo: me muero de fiebre y tengo frío. Quisiera que estuvieras desnuda, a mi lado, leyendo tus poemas en voz viva. Sylvette, pronto te escribiré. Sylv, yo sé lo que es esta carta. Pero te tengo confianza mística. Además la muerte tan cercana a mí, tan lozana, me oprime. Sylvette, no es una calentura, es un re-conocimiento infinito de que sos maravillosa, genial y adorable. Haceme un lugarcito en vos, no te molestaré. Pero te quiero, oh no imaginás cómo me estremezco al recordar tus manos que jamás volveré a tocar si no te complace puesto que ya lo ves lo sexual es un “tercero” por añadidura. En fin, no sigo. Les mando los 2 librejos de poemas póstumos –cosa seria—. Te beso como yo sé, a la rusa (con variantes francesas y de Córcega). O no te beso sino que te saludo, según tus gustos, como quieras.

Me someto. Siempre dije no para un día decir mejor sí.

Sylvette, sos la única. Pero es necesario decirlo: nunca encontrarás a nadie como yo. Y eso lo sabés (todo). Y ahora estoy llorando. Sylvette, curame, ayudame, no es posible ser tamaña supliciada, Sylvette, curame, no hagas que tenga que morir, ya…

Tuya:

Alejandra.

[lushicee]

Jul-20

esto de una comida al día me tiene estancada, estoy bajando pero muy lento y poco. 🤮

Actualmente llevo 13hrs de ayuno desde mi última comida, voy a tratar de llegar a las 48hrs (hasta el domingo a la tarde) Y en vez de una ahora DOS caminatas. (2 miles minimum)(3.2km) each/cada una.

Querida Mía, he visto tus intentos de volver, llevo dos días que tus sombras me persiguen. Pero Ana te ganó, aun así Ya llevo mi cepillo listo para ti❤️

[tapitadepansblog-blog]

Carta a Ana

 Querida ana:

Te ofrezco mi vida, mi corazón y todas las funciones de mi cuerpo, te entrego todas mis posesiones terrenales.

Busco tu sabiduría, tu fe y tu peso tan ligero como una pluma. Ruego por obtener la habilidad de flotar, de bajar mi peso a un solo digito. Ruego por mirar fijamente al espacio, temer a la comida y verme mi imagen obesa en el espejo. Te adorare y ruego por ser una fiel sirviente tuya hasta que la muerte nos separe.

Si te engaño y procreo con Ronald McDonald, Dave Thomas, el coronel o esa pequeña estrellita jr. Me arrodillare sobre mi baño y meteré los dedos muy dentro de mi garganta y rezare por tu perdón.

Por favor Ana, no me deseches. Soy tan débil, lo se, pero solo tu con tu poder dentro de mi me convertirán en una mujer que merece amor y respeto. Te estoy rogando que no me ignores, te lo pido con el aliento de mi sombra y mi piel pálida. Sangro por ti, sufro dolores en las piernas, dolores de cabeza y olvido las cosas. Mi amor por ti me hace sentir mareada y confundida no se si vengo o voy. Los hombres huyen cuando ven el amor que te tengo y nunca regresan, pero ellos no me importan todo lo que importa es que tu me ames.

Si te quedas conmigo, te adorare a diario, correré kilómetros por día, llueva, neve, bajo el frío o el insoportable calor, correré del dolor y de estar asustada. Hare mil sentadillas cada día y mentiré a mi familia sobre lo que como y como me siento. Dejare de llorar cuando sienta tus cálidos brazos a mi alrededor abrazando mi cuerpo que tiembla. Ignorare los dolores del hambre como navajas y sentiré tu fortaleza.

Hoy, renuevo nuestra amistad y me decido a serte fiel todo el año, toda la vida. Comenzare cada año con 3 días de ayuno en honor a ti. Si me das la fuerza de desvanecerme te amare y adorare para siempre.

Cuando finalmente me haya desvanecido para ser nada, cuando me des el regalo de terminar esta vida tortuosa. Flotare hacia el siguiente mundo y seré delgada y bella como recompensa al amor que te tuve aquí y ahora.

Solo te pido una cosa mas, por favor Ana, aléjame de este infierno, de este mundo ASAP. Por favor llevame lejos de este odio por mi dolor y permíteme ser libre y ligera.

Siempre tuya, nadie importante.

[iwanttodienow]

Esta semana no pude comer menos de 500 calorías, es malo cuando hay muchos ojos viéndome:(

Con la ayuda de Mia y mi rutina, logré bajar 1 kilo, siento que es muy poco, pero al menos estoy bajando.

Mi meta es b4jar al menos 15 kilos antes del próximo año, ¿Lo conseguiré? Descubramoslo:)

En diciembre haré mi primer b0dycheck, en este momento me da mucha vergüenza, me veo tan asqu3rosa y c3rda. Nunca debí dejarlas mis queridas Ana y M1a, son mis mejores amigas.

[estupidosentimiento]

Cuando nuestras se manos tocaban eran momentos especiales y yo amaba sentir eso, amaba sentirme amada. Ahora, mi vida gira en torno a mis responsabilidades, él ya no es parte de mis días, y lo acepto. Pero a veces, aun tengo esos recuerdos en los que me sentía querida y no solo explotada por el sistema.

Ser una mujer independiente, trabajadora y ocupada tiene su valor, pero experimentar amor a través de esos momentos, donde mi única preocupación era simplemente ser bonita para el chico que me gustaba, era un tipo de sentimiento único que extraño tanto sentir.

5-9-24

-Ana en el espacio

[inspiredwriter]

Stefany :*pone el te en la mesa* gracias que vinieras a ayudarme hacer mi fiesta de té en el techo de edificio Anastasia 😃😊☕🌸🌺💕💖

Anastasia :*sale del edificio*no hay problema Stefany y alegro que me invitaras a mi y Mikey 😉☺️💗✨

Stefany : claro pero hay que esperar que venga Leo y Mikey más tarde como les recordé 🥰😄*pone un florero en la mesa*trajiste los postres para la fiesta tuve que hacer unas poquitas galletas 😊😅🍪

Anastasia : por supuesto amiga traje unos pastelito🥰😁🍰✨*saca una caja de pasteles y muestra a Stefany* Creo que será suficiente para la fiestas de té 😊🥧☕

Stefany : es perfecto Anastasia 😃☺️*mira su teléfono* Ya van a ser las cuatro y los chicos vendrán pronto 😁😉🕜

*En otro lado de la ciudad*

Leonardo :*corre y salta del edificio* vamos Mikey date prisa llegaremos tarde en la fiesta de té con las chicas 😬😕🏃‍♂️☕🍰

Miguel Angel :*corre atrás de Leo* ya voy amigo Pero espérame corres rápido que yo😟😅🏃‍♂️ pero y perdón por la demora porque estaba recogiendo una flor para a mi querida Anastasia😏🥰🌼🌻

Leonardo : está bien Yo igual pero solo recogí son la rosa para Stefany 😊😄🌷🌺*mira lejos del edificio* creo que veo Stefany y Ana en el techo del apartamento 😏😉💖💕

Miguel Angel : ¡qué estamos esperando vamos a la fiesta de té! 😁🥳☕🍰✨

@inspiredwriter

Leonardo and Michelangelo: *Jump on the roof to the girls* Hello beautys, we hope we are not too late for your tea party😏😄☕🍰🎊

Stefany and Anastasia: *Comes to Leo and Mikey* Haha, no, boys, you came just in time🤭🥰💘💖💞

Michelangelo: *Gives a bouquet of flowers to Anastasia* Okay, I brought flowers for you, my lovely princess, they smell very delicious😍🤗💐💗💘 *Kisses Anastasia on the cheek* Muah~😚💓💖💕

Leonardo: *Gives a bouquet of roses to Stefany* I also brought flowers for you, because you are such a charming girl😏🤗💐🌹💝💗💕 *Kisses Stefany on the hand* Muah~😚💘💓 I am honored to attend your tea party😌🥰☕🎉💞💝💕

@swagtreecrown

[anamnessia]

Hola de nuevo querida amiga

Me gustaría decir que intenté ser una mejor versión de mi.

Que me aleje de ti porque quería sanar.

Que hoy estoy aquí porque no pude más.

Pero la verdad es que nunca me fui,

Solo fui lo bastante débil para no luchar

No luchar ni por sanarme ni por lograr mí horrible obsesión.

Asi que está noche

Vuelvo a ti

Vuelvo al lugar del que nunca escapé.

Bienvenida amiga

Bienvenida Ana

Bienvenidos a mi nuevo fin.

♡︎

[espanol-para-amar]

Entre muertos y heridos, todos se salvaron

Este post tiene como objetivo hablar un poco más sobre las últimas vivencias del curso y sobre las preguntas acerca del material didáctico. Bueno, después de casi colapsar por la ansiedad y que mi médico quisiera alejarme para evitar este tipo de situaciones, opté por continuar. Primero porque sólo quedaban dos clases más, siendo porque la conversación con la profesora Rosângela me dejó mucho más segura y calma. Recuerdo que algo cambió cuando dijo que "esto no va a definir su futuro". Y de hecho, no lo hace y me lo he estado repitiendo durante días, hasta la penúltima clase, donde mi actuación fue mucho mejor. Logré presentar los fragmentos de la serie Contra las Cuerdas, contextualicé y también hicimos algunos comentarios divertidos sobre cómo algunas jergas mexicanas quedarían en Brasil. Fue mi clase favorita, me sentí muy capaz y dominante de la lengua, además de estar tranquila y disfrutar de la experiencia.

Y entonces llegamos al final del curso, en la última clase, Ana Laura y yo nos quedamos de auxiliares y Renan y Nubia como profesores principales. Como siempre, fueron excelentes, cumplieron con el objetivo no solo de aquella clase, sino del curso. Cuando vimos las evaluaciones, me quedé mucho más tranquila, pensé que tendría cosas horribles sobre mi didáctica cero, pero nuestros estudiantes fueron muy queridos con los comentarios.

De toda la experiencia, queda la enseñanza de que nada es tan malo como nuestra cabeza proyecta. A pesar del sufrimiento que yo misma causé, la experiencia me hizo salir de la universidad más fuerte y mucho más preparada para lidiar no solo con un aula, sino con adversidades de la vida en un todo. Rendirse no es una opción.

En cuanto a mi futuro como maestra, no sé si eso es lo que quiero para mí, quién sabe. Pero una cosa me ha estado rondando la mente, y todavía lo está, ¿cómo evaluar alumnos con fobia social y problemas de ansiedad para hablar en público? Porque si eso me pasó a mí, imagino que le pasará a otros estudiantes, no solo a los que sufren ansiedad generalizada, sino también autismo y otros. ¿Qué puedo hacer yo, como profesor, para ayudar a alguien que pasa por eso? ¿Cómo hacer esta evaluación de forma justa y que no perjudique al alumno? En fin, son preguntas que te dejo, Rosângela rs.

Ahora, sobre el material, mi principal referencia fueron los materiales utilizados por Elaine, mi profesora de español en el Instituto Federal. Además de recordar siempre que en las clases de Fundamentos e incluso en las correcciones, las profesoras siempre hablaban que los materiales necesitaban partir de una situación de aprendizaje donde la lengua necesita ser enseñada desde su uso. Así, cada vez que comenzaba a buscar ejercicios o incluso ejemplos para las diapositivas, siempre intentaba relacionar con el tema lucha libre y con lo que tenía sentido dentro del curso. Cuando surgían dudas sobre si tal material estaba bien explicado, siempre consultaba al resto del grupo, y juntos llegamos a una conclusión. Por lo tanto, creo que la vivencia como alumna en estos cuatro años de curso fueron esenciales en el auxilio para el desarrollo de los materiales del curso. Además, el libro Soy Profesor 1 protagonistas y Preparación, es excelente y súper didáctico para guiarlo en lo que un material necesita tener para evaluar a un alumno.

Termino este blog diario con los agradecimientos: a mi grupo, siempre muy paciente y que de hecho entiende lo que es un trabajo en equipo. Mi madre, que me escuchó llorar y auto-adorarme cientos de veces y aun así continuó diciendo que yo era sí muy capaz. Rosângela, siempre tan querida, con los mejores consejos y siempre dispuesta a revisar nuestro material incluso cuando extrapolamos los plazos. De esta experiencia solo quiero recordar a todas esas personas que fueron increíbles conmigo y que en ningún momento me dejaron desistir.

[unrunirun]

"Ana me rompió el corazón, pero al herirlo, lo creó. Nunca lo entenderías. Mi pobre Ana. Mi querida Ana. Nunca hubiera podido pagarte esto que hiciste por mí, iluminaste el lado oscuro de mi corazón. ¿Por qué decidiste permanecer pobre, dejándome a mí tan rico?"

🎬"El lado oscuro del corazón", Eliseo Subiela (1992)

[bruiscdviolets]

I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey. Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay? | Marina Basualdo

STATISTICS

NAME: Marina Aracely Basualdo

AGE: Thirty-Two

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Woman, She/Her

FACE CLAIM: Ana De Armas

EYE COLOR: Green

HAIR COLOR: Brunette

HEIGHT: 5'6"

DATE OF BIRTH: September 16, 1989

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: High School Education

OCCUPATION: Ballet Instructor

HOMETOWN: Miami, Fl

CURRENT TOWN: Nightrest, MA

NEIGHBORHOOD: Low Point

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY (TW: CHEATING)

Every time Marina looked in the mirror, she was told to cherish her beauty. ‘Eres hermosa mi querida’ was a sentiment her mother repeated to her every day in hopes of making her daughter feel important, but all it did was fester and grow into an empty hole inside of her that could never be filled. Since the moment her father walked out of the door and never returned, Ines Marin attempted to provide her daughter with everything she could as a single mother and she worked hard for it. However, it didn’t matter because her mother was still damaged and distraught at the loss of her father and infected her daughter with insecurities that would last to adulthood.

Marina’s beauty persisted and thrived in Miami where she grew up as her mother nurtured her. What started as a way to socialize her daughter by placing her in ballet classes as a child grew into her passion and Marina focused on becoming the best. Using the only discipline she knew, Marina kept her physical appearance as picture perfect as she could, even if her mental health suffered. In her’s and her mother’s eyes, she succeeded when she became the prima ballerina for the Miami Ballet.

Obsession and insecurity would wrought Marina’s entire being as she reveled in the spotlight that followed her. Her beauty and skill attracted the attention that she craved, a misplaced notion to replace the love of a father that never existed. Her own insecurities led her to a man that she blindly fell for and soon what came was an engagement. Marina hoped it would fill the void inside of her, but her self esteem suffer when the man ended it because he had no desire to commit. All her failed engagement seemed to do was drive her more into her compulsive behaviors and she worked harder in her craft.

Soon, she felt as if she grew out of the city she lived in. Ultimately, she wanted to be a part of the New York City Ballet, so when an opportunity arose to take the prima ballerina position at the Philadelphia ballet, she took it. It may have not been her final goal, but it was a stepping stone to get there. Marina said goodbye to her mother and Miami and left everything behind her in search for something that would make her feel whole.

Soon, she felt as if she grew out of the city she lived in. Marina had big aspirations when it came to her career and her dream was to be apart of the American Ballet Company in New York, so when an opportunity arose to take the prima ballerina spot at The Boston Ballet Company, she took it. It may have not been her final goal but it was a stepping stone to get there. Marina said goodbye to her mother and Miami and left everything behind her in search for something that would make her feel whole.

It seemed the other piece of her wouldn’t come until she met another man, this time there was more hope she held for this relationship and thought that maybe, this would be the one she searched for all her life. That this would be the one. What started out as a small tattoo on the inside of her inner wrist ended up with her number scribbled on the palm of her tattoo artist's hand. Marina continued her ballet career as her relationship with him progressed and eventually the two became serious and she decided to move away from Boston to a small town only thirty minutes away to live with him. Marina pushed herself in both aspects of her life and was awarded the prima ballerina position, but it was short lived. All her hard work until a breaking point: she continued to dance on an injured ankle until she tore her Achilles tendon.

Marina’s ballet career was practically over. Even with surgery, she could never move her feet the way she did before. All her life, she had been working towards something that had ended suddenly and with that all her insecurities emerged, tearing her already fragile ego down even further. The loss of her joy affected her relationship with boyfriend too. Losing her way, every little comment or dig his friends made at her for what she was pushed her deeper down into a hell she never imagined. Marina had fallen so far that she felt like a shell of her former self and in a moment of corrupt character, she fell into their bed with his best friend.

She had successfully ruined everything in her life in a night and now she’s still picking up the pieces of her shattered former self. Instead of facing her mistakes, Marina ran. She left Nightrest to go back to Boston, but without the career that gave her all the joy she had once had, she moved back to Nightrest, the only place that felt like a home.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

a best friend that's on her side, even when she's an idiot

other friends, because a girl needs them after everything she's been through, they could be parents of children she teaches or anything else

FWB/hookups because she is fragile and needs validation

more when i'm better at thinking

[acevesito]

Queridas amigas Ana y Mia, vengo a recomenzar, estuve alejándome de Ana de frorma preocupante, lastimosamente engordé y casi que vuelvo a mi peso inicial. Pero estoy cansada, harta de ser la "amiga gorda", harta de no poder usar ropa linda porque solo viene en talles unicos, harta de sentirme ridiculizada cuando como, harta de estar pensando todo el tiempo en que angulos me veo menos gorda. Harta de todo. Necesito pesar menos de 48kg antes de fin de año, y para eso necesito la ayuda de ustedes.

No es mi primera vez en tumblr, pero estaria necesitado blogs dedicados a Ana y Mia y tal vez amigas (ESPECIFICAMENTE MUJERES) para apoyarnos y ayudarnos mutuamente en este proceso. Que quede claro que no voy a revelar mi edad ni mi nombre real por cuestiones de privacidad.

Planeo dedicar esta cuenta a mis pensamientos y puede que algunos textos de estilo m3ansp0.

[delicategirls-stuff]

Querida Ana & Mía

Solo quiero pedirles mi vida de vuelta que salgan de mi cabeza y dejen de controlar todo lo que hago

Quiero y deseo recuperarme.

Pero a la vez está esa voz interna que me grita !Estás mejor enferma! HELP ME!!

[i-indigo]

Desvelandose por Anna

Pasé las ultimas semanas desvelandome,

Todas ellas pensando en vos;

Todas ellas haciendolo por vos.

Fue la noche anterior donde comencé,

La noche anterior a verte brillar o,

Más bien, a verme brillar por vos.

Siempre me desvelaría por vos, clara.

Y ésta vez, es capaz algo distinta a las últimas veces.

Verás, son las doce y es un catorce de febrero

Y me estoy desvelando de nuevo, Ana.

Me desvelo bajo la luz de tus ojos,

Claros como las estrellas que supe notar,

Y también el agua que salió de ellos.

Solo sé que claramente no puedo hacer nada

Para evitar lo mejor que me pasó.

Hace años que no puedo, querida.

Suelo fingir enojarme con canciones

En las que grito que no me hagas esperar más,

Pero oh... esperaría una vida entera por vos.

Hoy sé que falta menos,

Como si un destino fuese.

La lejanía no es algo que conozca ya,

Solo conozco la de tus manos.

¡Grito, sabes que anhelo tu tacto!

Ana, quisiera estar con vos este día

Y darte mi promesa sellada.

Hoy empieza el día de San Valentín,

Pero con vos, te prometo

Que haría todos los días

El día de los enamorados.

X.

Feliz día a todos.

Acerca: Una noche donde escribí numerosos poemas (los primeros del Álbum Índigo), la noche previa al día de los enamorados, el año pasado. El día siguiente sería la primera vez que lo vería tocar, y solo podía estar emocionada, y más profundo en el sentimiento.