#ni modo sai

[saikasem]

sai sukkasem en going underground.

[bellflower-goat]

man

[argent-sz]

nunca entendí las canciones de desamor hasta que me pasó a mi

[shurisgf]

armando headcanons of him as a bf ?

HEADCANONS — A. ARETAS ✩

ೃ⁀➷ SUMMARY; in which , these are my hottakes on how i think armando is as a bf. | FEAT. Armando Aretas x POC!fem!reader | TROPE established relationship | FORMAT headcannons | GENRE fluff | WARNINGS tiny bit suggestive | NOTES my man my mannnnn

` definitely the type to spoil you even if you protest against it

“Bebé déjame mimarte.”

“No, that necklace is too expensive,”

“Sabes que te lo voy a comprar de todos modos, mamá.”

` he’s a quiet man, so you two often just cuddle in silence

“Te amo” Armando whispered as you laid on his chest, his hands gently caressing your back.

` so overprotective its crazy

` always keeping an eye on you in public

` he’s not into pda, but when you two finally get alone, wheeew

“He querido arrancarte ese vestido toda la noche mamá” Armando grunted as he closed and locked the front door of your shared apartment.

“¿Qué te detiene?” You smirked in return.

` the two of you will try and do a movie night, but end up making out instead

Armando’s hands caressed every square inch of your body, as he went from caressing your back to your ass, while you straddled him on the couch the two of you were on. Your lips perfectly molded to his, as you rock your hips on his, causing him to groan into the kiss. “A la mierda la película.” He groaned, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom as you giggled in his arms.

` will teach you how to defend yourself on his days off

` 100% openly stares at what’s his

` will definitely fix your attitude

“Armando I’m not going to sit down, what the fuck?” You irritatingly stated, trying to find something on your phone after having a disagreement with him.

“No te lo voy a preguntar ni a decirte más, ven a sentarte.” He sternly said, in his calm, yet assertive voice.

` curses in spanish all the time and it’s so hot

` will say the most basic and everyday things but it gets you weak in the knees every time

GLOSSARY !

Bebé déjame mimarte — Baby, let me spoil you.

Sabes que te lo voy a comprar de todos modos, mamá. — You know I’m going to buy it for you anyway, mama.

Te amo — I love you.

He querido arrancarte ese vestido toda la noche mamá — I’ve wanted to rip that dress off of you all night mama.

¿Qué te detiene? — What’s stopping you?

A la mierda la película — Fuck the movie.

No te lo voy a preguntar ni a decirte más, ven a sentarte — I’m not going to ask you or tell you again, come sit down.

©2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — SHURI'S GF. Do not modify, repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any work posted on this blog without my permission !

[afictionaladventure16]

Reader being Pedro’s co-star (maybe along Bella in TLOU or if not in another show/film) and him basically taking her in after finding out she’s not being well taken care of in her home, so he becomes her surrogate dad

It's Gonna Be Okay (Pedro Pascal x Teen!Reader)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Word Count: 5,091

A/N: I may have took this request and ran with it.... but uhhhh I hope this is somewhat what you least expected... enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of neglect and abuse.

If it were up to you, you wouldn’t have taken up acting when you were younger. You were forced into it at a young age, it was so you could help pay bills because your father was on disability and your mother didn’t want to give up her position as a housewife. You eventually fell in love with acting, being able to just escape your life and family and just be someone completely different. 

You’d had been getting bigger roles now that you were older. At only age fourteen, you had gotten many roles in shows and movies. You were proud of yourself. Someone had to be. You were currently working on another film after just finished working on the Prospect, which starred Pedro Pascal as Ezra. You played Cee, a girl who is traveling planets with her father. This film you were starring in now was a small indie film, which had been something different than what you usually worked on. That didn’t mean that you didn’t like it, you liked the challenge. 

You walked into your trailer after shooting a couple of scenes. Your mom was on the phone with god only knows who. For the longest, you wished your relationship with your parents was better. You wished they could be proud of you and that maybe they did this because they wanted a better life for you. But that wasn’t the case, they were only thinking for themselves. 

Your mom hung up the phone, “your father and I were thinking about buying a new house.” 

“We just bought a house,” you stated as you began to undress from your wardrobe for your character and into some regular clothes. 

“Well, I think we could use something new. Plus with the money you made from your previous role, we can afford it?” 

You let out a deep sigh, “but that’s my money, shouldn’t I have a say?” 

“Your money? Sweetie, it’s our money.” 

“I was the one who did all the work, my name is on the checks!” 

“Don’t raise your voice at me, you know the money goes to an account that has me and your father as the trustees.” You couldn’t take it anymore. You’ve taken it for years and years, them using you to get money and you knew eventually you would be left with nothing. 

“It’s my money, that money is supposed to be left untouched.” 

Your mom let out a deep breath, “Well, it’s the least you could do for all we do for you.” 

“All you do for me? What? Sit around and not do anything!?”

She began to rub her temples, “sometimes I wish I never had you,” she spat. 

“If you hate me so much then why did you ever have me?” You asked, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

“We had you because we thought you could fix us!” 

“So what I’m just some kid you have when your marriage is falling apart? So if that doesn’t work you can blame the kid? You were better off getting a dog!” 

“Maybe we were better getting a dog! At least the dog would listen and be more appreciative! And you know what? You shouldn’t even be talking to me like that, I am your mother!” 

“Barely! I only see you when it’s convenient! All I am to you is an ATM!” 

“You are so ungrateful, you have no idea what we do so you could be some superstar!” 

“You didn’t do shit! I did this! I walked myself to auditions! I took the bus to film locations! I did it!” You yelled, allowing yourself to finally yell out everything you had been holding back. 

“Fuck this,” she said as she walked away to grab her bag. 

“I’m not going home,” you said. 

“Ni te quiero ahi de todos modos,” (I don’t want you there anyway) she hissed as she walked out of the trailer. You didn’t know where you could go if you couldn’t go home. If you could even call that place home. 

You felt the warm tears make their way down your cheeks, and you were quick to wipe them away, “I don’t need them,” you said to yourself. You grabbed your backpack of essentials, you usually carried it around because it was stuff you needed for before and after shoots and now it was convenient because you couldn’t go home. 

When you walked out of your trailer, almost everyone had gone home for the night. Most of the shooting took place in Los Angeles which was where more than half the cast and crew lived. The others rented places to live in until the end of the shoot. 

You didn’t know where to go, but your feet seemed to lead you the way to the bus stop. It was almost like you were on autopilot to the only place you knew you’d welcomed. 

Once you had gotten on the bus, you noticed dark clouds beginning to cover the sunset sky. Usually, you would be happy to see that it was about to rain, but since you were stuck in a bus and would eventually have to walk the rest of the way to your destination, you were feeling the opposite to see the clouds. 

You had ridden the bus for a good twenty minutes, this was one of the routes you got to know over the past couple of months since filming. You’d ride the bus for twenty minutes and then walk the rest of the way, which was another twenty minutes. 

It only sprinkled during the walk to your destination. But it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. The whole walk to the neighborhood, you couldn’t help but wonder what life could have been if maybe your parents actually cared. What will life become if this continued? You couldn’t handle the way they treated you as if you were just an employee, you yearned for that feeling of being loved by your parents. 

You couldn’t quite remember when exactly it started, you thought it could’ve been when your dad got injured at work, but even then you felt it was before that. You admit, that the words your mother said hurt. You were only created to fix their marriage and even that couldn’t fix it because it was obvious to everyone that it was falling apart day by day. 

Once you had gotten to the neighborhood, you were glad that they didn’t live in a gated community or else this walk would’ve been for nothing. You ran the rest of the way to the house, running up the steps, and knocking on the door. 

You stood in silence for a few seconds until the door opened, “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Pedro asked in shock, “Mija, you’re all soaked, get in.” Pedro pulled you into the house, before running off to grab you a towel. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve called,” you began to say. 

He chuckled, “Yeah, I could’ve gotten you a ride.” 

That was true, but part of you just wanted to be left alone. “Sorry,” you said again. 

Pedro wrapped the towel around you, “Take your shoes off, make yourself at home.” You never understood that phrase, maybe because you never knew what a home should feel like. You cleared your throat as you took your shoes off, placing them by the door. You followed Pedro into the living room, “You came just in time, I was gonna start a movie marathon…” Pedro looked over at you standing by the couch. “Pues, mija sit down.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the couch,” you gestured to your wet clothes. Pedro could care less if you got his couch a little wet, but he probably thought you felt uncomfortable in wet clothes. 

“Hold on,” he said as he ran up to one of the rooms. He came down a few minutes later, “I remembered one of my little cousins left some of their clothes here the last time they came to visit. These pajama pants should fit and I have one of my old Fleetwood mac tees here.” He handed you the clothes, giving you a grin. 

“Thanks,” you said with a smile. 

“You know where the bathroom is,” he gestured towards the hallway. This wasn’t your first time in Pedro’s house, in fact, you came over to his house pretty often. Since being in the Prospect together, you have developed a strong bond with Pedro. You still hung out with him whenever he was in town and you even went to visit him in New York a few times. This house has become like a home to you, a true home. One in which you could actually be yourself, when you came here you never wanted to go to the one where your parents were. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t as surprised to see you, just more surprised you didn’t call him. You quickly changed in the bathroom, and when you walked back out to the living room, Pedro had microwaved some popcorn. He pats the spot next to him for you to sit down. 

You rolled your eyes and sat down beside him, “What are we watching?” 

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what’s going on,” he asked in a serious tone. 

You sighed, “don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Do your parents know you're here?” 

“All they know is that I’m not home and they’re happy with that,” you picked up some popcorn and began eating. 

“Now why would you say that?” At this point he turned the T.V. off, giving you his full attention. 

“My mom and I got into this big argument,” you said, hoping he would drop it and you could just go back to ignoring the situation. 

“About?” But part of you knew he wasn’t going to just drop it. Pedro was a good listener and for some reason, he had done more for you in the little time he has known you, than your parents ever have. 

“Money,” you began, not even trying to hold it in anymore, maybe he could help you do something about it. “They’ve been spending everything I’ve earned like it’s no tomorrow and now I’m scared that that’s all they care about.” 

“What?” Pedro sat up, “They can’t do that, it’s your money,” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he knew he had to be somewhat illegal. 

“I know,” You sighed, “but they're my parents” 

“Mija, they signed a contract. Only a certain percentage of that money goes to an account that they could spend for you, the rest has to go to a savings account for you.” 

“It’s all in one account,” you responded. “I don’t know what to do, I’m too young to get emancipated, and even then… I have no other family I can stay with.” 

Pedro got up, he knew he had to talk to someone about this, maybe one of the directors or even your manager. He just knew this wasn’t right. He grabbed his phone from the counter, Pedro hesitated for a second, what was he doing? The choices he made right now could change your life either for the better or for the worse. 

He went into his contacts, tapping on his phone a few times before pressing it to his ear, “Pedro?” You called out, walking in the direction he went. “What are you doing?” You asked as soon as you saw him. 

Before he could respond to you, someone had picked up, “Hello?” 

“Chris,” he began, your eyes widen, you couldn’t believe he had called your manager, you had forgotten that they had been good friends. “It’s Pedro.” 

“Pedro, what are you doing?” 

Pedro didn’t respond to you again, “Pedro, what’s up?” 

“Any chance you can come by my place? Y/N is here and we have something to talk to you about.” 

“Um, yeah, I can be there in like thirty minutes, sound good?” 

“Yeah, see you then,” Pedro hung up the phone, looking over at you, “It’s  gonna be okay.” 

“How do you know that?” 

He sighed, “because I’ll be there to help you, okay? You’re not alone, Y/N. Do you trust me?” You didn’t trust a lot of people, but Pedro was one of the few you did trust. He had shown you that you could trust him time and time again. You gave him a small nod. He smiled softly at you, “you hungry?” 

“I don’t think I can eat at a time like this,” you said nervously. Pedro understood he didn’t think he could eat either, but he knew it was rude to not offer. 

When Chris arrived, Pedro did most of the talking. You sat on the couch, nodding every once in a while or talking when things needed more clarity. But for the most part, Pedro was your advocate and you were content that you didn’t have to deal with it. Chris was overwhelmed with the information he was given, but he knew what to do in these kinds of situations. 

“I can get you a lawyer,” he began, “but I’m letting you know now, it’s gonna get messy. We’ll have to find a family for you to stay with-” 

“I have no other family,” you confessed. 

“Well, they might have you-” 

“She can stay with me,” Pedro blurted out. “If she’s able to.” 

“It’s possible. We’d just have to provide evidence that temporary guardianship is needed in this case,” Chris stated. 

“I have evidence,” you began, “just do whatever is needed and I can provide the evidence.” 

Chris sighed, “alright. I’ll keep in touch and It’s probably best if Y/N goes home tonight.” 

“My mom told me not to come home.” 

Chris glanced at Pedro before looking at you, he didn’t know what to say, “then I guess you’ll stay with Pedro for the night.” He didn’t say anything else before leaving. 

“You think it’ll work?” you asked Pedro, he had sat down next to you once Chris had left. 

“I like to think it will,” he gave you a reassuring smile before pulling you to his side. 

“Did you really mean it?” you asked, receiving a confused look from Pedro. “When you said I could stay with you.” 

“Of course I meant it,” he said. “You’re like a daughter I’ve never had, in just a few months we’ve known each other you have brought me so much joy and I have to admit, seeing you shoot your scenes, makes me feel so proud.” 

You felt tears begin to well up in your eyes. Someone who didn’t even know you for your whole life was proud of you, more than your parents ever could be. “What’s wrong?” Pedro asked as he wiped away a tear off your cheek that had managed to escape. You shook your head, “Something has to be bothering you, muñeca, what is it?” 

You let out a shaky breath, “it’s just… I wish my parents could say that they’re proud of me. I wish they could at least act like they loved me.” 

“Oh, mija,” he cooed. 

“You know what my mom said to me today?” you sniffled, “she said that they only had me because they thought I would help make their marriage work. What kind of person says that to their own kid?” You let out a soft sob, “Do I even matter to them? To anyone?” 

Pedro held you tight, “you matter to me.” He placed a small kiss on your temple, “they may say all these awful things but you are here for a reason.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Sure.” 

“I’m serious, Y/N. You’re like a daughter to me and I believe you were brought onto this earth to shine some joy into my life,” he gave you a reassuring smile. “Okay?” You gave him a nod, “Now let’s watch our movie marathon, we’ll worry about everything else tomorrow.” 

You laid your head on Pedro’s lap, watching as the opening credits began to play on the screen, but you couldn’t help but wonder if everything was going to be okay. When you woke up that morning you didn’t imagine this was how you were going to end your day, but then again, no one ever really imagines how they would really end their day. 

You wondered if you’d need to move out and if so, how would everyone take it? Did that really matter? No, it didn’t. You know Pedro said he’d take you in, but would he be true to his word? You couldn’t help but think about all these intrusive thoughts, all you wanted to do was watch the damn movie, but your mind was so loud. 

The next day came and no word from Chris. You went back onto the set, your mother was there too. You played your best role yet, the obedient daughter. You sat and listened to your mother as she lectured you for not coming home last night, even though she had told you not to. 

Days went by and only one call from Chris, he was working on it. That’s all he said. You visited Pedro a few times before he went back to New York. 

Then weeks went by and eventually you finished filming. You hated when you weren’t filming, it meant you had to go home and spend most of your time there. 

It wasn’t until a month after the whole talk with Chris was when your parents received the knock at the door. You were at the kitchen table when your mother answered the door, you could hear the shock in her voice when the gentleman said the four magical words, “You have been served.” 

Your head the door shut, and the smile on your face only lasted a few seconds before it was met with anxiety. You heard the sounds of the envelope being torn apart and then complete silence. You were beginning to regret everything that had just happened, maybe it was just all a big mistake. Suing your parents was a big deal, accusing them of stealing was another big deal. 

You heard footsteps inching closer to where you sat. Then silence. You looked up at your mother standing at the doorway, It was at that moment you knew that it was probably best that she was served the papers when you weren’t there. Because up until that moment, you had thought that all your mother would do was mentally and verbally abuse you, or steal from you. 

“You bitch,” she spat as she threw the papers onto the table, “after everything we did for you!” She smacked her hand across your face, your hand instantly touching the spot she had slapped. “This is how you repay us!?” 

You felt tears well up in your eyes, you got up from your seat to leave but your mother quickly blocked your way, “move.” 

“This is how you repay us?” She asked again. You remained silent, not daring to look at her. It was all quick, her hand on your throat pushing you against the wall, “I’m asking you a question!” Her grip was strong, you scratched at her hand, hoping that it would pain her enough to let go. 

It felt like you were against the wall for minutes. Her phone began to ring, allowing you to break free. You fell to your knees as you attempted to catch your breath. “Leave,” she began. “No te quiero ver en esta casa nunca mas, no me importa donde vas.” ( I don’t want to see you in this house anymore, I don’t care where you go) You remained silent as you got up from the floor, “Me oiste?” You didn’t say anything again as you grabbed your phone from the kitchen table. “I asked you a question!” 

“Yes! I fucking heard you!” You yelled. 

Your reflexes weren’t quick, maybe it was because you were still trying to recover from being choked, or maybe it was because your nerves were everywhere. You weren’t quick enough to dodge your mother's fist, and you stumbled back. Quickly covering your eye, you groaned as you felt it throbbing. 

Your mother shook her hand, “Leave before I do something I’ll regret.” 

“You’re fourteen years too late for that,” you muttered. 

“Eres una disgracia, no eres mi hija. Quiero que todos que sepan que no tengo hija.” (You’re a disgace, not a daughter. I want everyone to know I don’t have a daughter) she muttered as you walked out of the room. You walked into your bedroom, and quickly looked at the damage to your eye, it didn’t look too bad but you knew it would bruise, not to mention the red marks on your neck. You couldn’t worry about it right now, you had to pack what was important and the essentials. As looked around your room, you couldn’t think of anything you wanted to take, just things you needed. 

As you began to pack things, you decided to call Pedro, it had only rang a few times before he answered, “Hey, Y/N! I was just about to call you,” He began to say. “I was gonna surprise you, but I might as well just tell you, I’m in LA! I have an interview tonight an-” he had rambled on, but you had to interrupt, or else he wouldn’t have stopped. 

“I need you to pick me up,” you cut him off. 

Pedro went silent for a moment, “Everything okay?” 

“My mom just got served, Pedro.” 

“Shit,” he mumbled, “I was hoping they’d tell me before they did anything, that way…” Pedro hesitated, he didn’t want to think about what could have happened. “are you okay?” he asks instead. 

“Can you please pick me up?” You asked shakingly. 

“Of course, Mija, I’ll be there right away, okay?” He said. 

“Don’t hang up,” you pleaded. 

Pedro’s heart sank, he could hear how torn you were, “okay, I won’t hang up.” You could hear car keys jingling on the other side of the phone, “I’m gonna connect the Bluetooth to my car, okay?” 

“Okay,” you had zipped up the last of your stuff into one of your suitcases. 

Pedro stayed silent for a few seconds, “are you still there?” 

“I’m here,” you said. You began to make your way out of your room, and you spotted your mother still in the kitchen, phone pressed against her ear. You walked out of the house, without saying another word to her. You didn’t know how your father would react and you didn’t want to know. “I’m outside,” you said into the phone. 

“I’m only a few minutes away.” 

It felt more than a few minutes, it felt like hours. You stood at the driveway, anxious that you wouldn’t leave in time, you wanted to make sure you weren’t home when your father got there. 

“I’m down the street,” Pedro announced. 

You quickly spotted his car and you ended the call once he was close enough. Pedro parked at the curb, quickly getting out to help you put your stuff in the car. Before you could get in, he grabbed your arm, placing a hand on your face, “Mija,” he began as he noticed the marking on your neck and the swelling of your eye. “Did they do this to you?” 

“Let’s go,” you pleaded. He sighed, he knew you were anxious to get out of there. He glanced over at the house you had come out of as you got in the car, he closed the door for you before getting in the car. 

The car ride was silent, which was different. Usually, the car rides with Pedro were filled with music and laughter, but this time there was no music and no laughter. You stared out of the window for most of the ride. Once you got to the house, Pedro took your bags and you followed him inside. 

“I need to make a phone call,” He informed you as he walked into his office. 

You walked over to the window, looking out at the scenic view. Were you making a big mistake? Was he beginning to realize it? 

You did the right thing, right? 

You took charge of your life and you did the right thing, right? Even if it feels completely wrong and you feel so much guilt. Is it wrong to feel a little relief? Usually, relief meant a good thing, so did this mean it was a good thing?

You felt something on your shoulder, you jolted a bit at the sudden touch. 

“Sorry,” Pedro apologized. You calmed down when you realized it was him, “I was on the phone with Chris and the lawyer.” 

“What they say?” 

“Well, I told them what happened and the lawyer is attempting to get an emergency temporary custody agreement from the judge so you could stay with me. He said he’ll be coming over to take pictures for evidence, but for now…” He sighed, “are you okay?” you shook your head. You didn’t need to say anymore, Pedro pulled you in for an embrace and you allowed yourself to feel everything. 

For once you felt like you were able to feel everything without feeling guilty for doing so or even wrong to think such horrible things. But now that the truth has come to light, you were able to feel. 

In most cases, this process would have taken days, but somehow the lawyers your manager hired made the process go by fast. Within a couple of hours, Pedro received the call that he was able to get temporary custody, but that’s all it was. Temporary. Eventually, you would have to go to court and maybe end up in foster care, but you didn’t want to think about that now. 

“Let me see,” Pedro said softly as he joined you on the couch once again, he had been making some phone calls for the past twenty minutes. “Fuck,” he said softly, “They really hit you pretty well.” 

“It hurts,” you groaned. 

“I know,” he had a frozen pack of peas in his other hand, along with a small towel. He wrapped the bag of peas in the towel before gently placing it on your eye, “leave this on for twenty minutes, then rest it.” You gave him a nod as you took a hold of the bag of peas. “You want to talk about it?” 

You shook your head, “not really.” 

“That’s fine,” he said, trying not to push you into talking. 

But that’s the thing, you wanted to talk about it. You wanted to cry it out, you just didn’t want to feel like a burden, especially not to him. Not after all he has done for you so far. 

Tears began to well up in your eyes, Pedro quickly took notice, pulling you back into an embrace. “I thought that I would be happier,” you cried. “They’ve always treated me so terribly and now that they’re no longer a part of my life… I don’t get it.” Pedro rubbed your back, “Why does it hurt so much? Why does it feel like-” 

“Like you’ve lost your parents?” you nodded. 

“Even if they never acted like parents.” 

“I don’t know, grief is funny like that,” he said softly. “Some people don’t deserve to be parents, Y/N.” 

You took in a deep breath, “you know what she said when I left?” he hummed in response, “Quiero que todos se sepan que no tengo una hija.” Every girl needs a mother, you needed a mother, and you had one. You just didn’t have the one that was portrayed in movies or the ones that your friends had. And you were always envious of that. You wished you had a mother that truly loved you and took pride in being your mother. Maybe you didn’t understand, what it was like to be a mother, but you think you could. 

Because if you ever had a daughter, you knew you would love that person unconditionally without hesitation. So, why couldn’t she? 

Pedro couldn’t understand it because like you if he had a daughter or even a son. He would love them unconditionally, just like he had tried to do with you. Like he was doing with you. Right now there was a hurting child in his arms and all he could think to do was comfort them even if he was fighting everything inside him to go punch your parents. He knew what he had to do at that moment, he had to comfort you because you needed him. 

He kissed your temple, “She doesn’t deserve such a beautiful, intelligent, talented daughter like you and it hurts that she can’t see what I see.” He leaned back from the embrace, holding your head in his hands. “Just because someone shares your DNA doesn’t mean that they are family. If there is anything you have shown me in the time I’ve known you, it’s how to be a father to someone who isn’t even my own kid.” 

You gave him a small smile as he wiped away a tear from your cheek with his thumb, “from here on out, we’re in this together, mija, okay?” you nodded.

Yeah, you really couldn’t understand it, but you didn’t have to because DNA didn’t mean they were truly your family. If there was anyone who actually knew you like the back of your hand, it was the man that was sitting beside you. The man who took time to be there for you when they couldn’t. 

The man who knew what to say on your bad days and what not to say, who knew your favorite foods and knew your pet peeves, just like a father would. He knew what time you should go to bed for you to be not grumpy in the morning and he knew what subjects in school you needed help in the most. 

And he mostly knew all of this in a short period of time. He spent time with you and not because he needed to, but because he wanted to. It didn’t take him long to create a bond with you and it didn’t take you long to consider him like a father. 

“Okay,” you said softly. The pain would only be temporary, you knew that and you allowed yourself to feel it. You were still nervous about the outcome of the future, but you knew you had a small support system and that was all you needed.

Pedro Pascal Taglist: @Sophieelizabeth01  @tracysnook  @cilliansangel  @change-the-world-someday  @graciegoeskrazy @oggystine93 @t-stark35 @twkobii @picklehat3r

To be added CLICK HERE

[youngtimemachineheart]

Hello! Spanish speaker here. Descargándose un poco sobre lo que ha pasado, especialmente lo del otipep

Creo que muchas cosas ya se han dicho y supongo que la mayoría ya habrá comprendido la situación. Así que solo una cosa mas

Mi molestia (mia) y de varios ni siquiera es tanto con los admins (si nos molesto pero hay algo que nos está molestando mas) porque otipep se disculpo (tengo entendido), y lo del admin de empanada pues creo que depende de ella reflexionarlo. Lo que si me molesta es la comunidad entera, desde el inicio llamaron a los que decían algo que los incómodo dramáticos, exagerados, etc. Especialmente a hispanos. Y ahora que finalmente están entendiendo nuestra molestia e incomodidad nos responden que no lo sabían porque el contexto estaba EN ESPAÑOL.

Lo que estoy entendiendo es que opinaron y minimizaron el sentido de una comunidad por meses sin tener el debido contexto. Lo que estoy obteniendo es que NO te importo entender el problema a pesar de que todo paso por el lado HISPANO. Porque estaba en ESPAÑOL.

Ni siquiera entendías el problema porque no estaba en tu idioma, de todos modos opinaste y ahora de la forma más descarada dices “es que estaba en español”

Y cuando leo personas diciendo “i cant say my opinion” pero ya opinaste y ni siquiera entendías el problema y eso es… decepcionante

Haces que nos sentimos invisibilizados y minimizados. 

Haces que sintamos que en realidad no importamos y que nunca lo hicimos para empezar. 

[saikasem]

"¿comprometerme? ¿qué va hacer este pedazo de tela? ¿obligarme a casarme? pfft." bufa restándole por completamente la importa. "ah, no, solo ese. ¿y a ti? ¿te regalaron fortuna? ¿una maldición de mil años?" / @leohiranc

' solo te estoy diciendo lo que me dijeron que significa, me dijeron igual que tengo cuidado con ese tipo de amuletos... pueden comprometerte sin darte cuenta. a mi me suena a estafa ' se alza de hombros. siendo honesto, de ser verdad, colocaba mucha atención sobre contrario. ' ¿te han dado algún otro? por lo que veo son populares en esta celebración. ' * @saikasem

[spanishskulduggery]

Heyo Profe 🍓:

What are the proper ways to express dismissive attitudes? I heard of "Y qué a mí?" Does that have the same connotation as "Whatever"? Or is it "como lo que sea"(which feels Spanglish to me)?

I typically see it like ¿A mí qué? though it's like "so what?" more literally "what does that have to do with me" as the a mí is "to me" and it gets used in sentences like a mí me importa "it matters to me" etc. It's just like "and that concerns me how?"

lo que sea is "whatever"; which can be used like English as an actual part of a sentence "whatever it is" ...or a dismissive response "whatever"

Other expressions you might see/use to be dismissive:

No tiene nada que ver conmigo. = It has nothing to do with me. [lit. "it has nothing to see with me"; tener que ver con (algo/alguien) is "to have to do with (something/someone)"; so you could use this like no tiene nada que ver con ella "it has nothing to do with her", los informes no tienen nada que ver contigo "the reports have nothing to do with you"... parts of the expression can change]

Nada que ver. = Unrelated. [a shortened version of the above; more common to say no tiene nada que ver or no tienen nada que ver "it/they're unrelated"]

Me da igual. = I don't care. / It's all the same to me. [lit. "it gives me the same"]

¿Qué más da? = Who cares? / No matter. / It doesn't matter. / Oh well. [lit. "what more does it give?" same idea as above it's just like "eh oh well" most of the time]

¿Ah sí? = Oh yeah? / Oh really? / Is that right? / Is that so? [can be snippy; can be just a short response]

Ajá. = Uh-huh. [can be an affirmative response or like the bored "uh-huh"; depends on your tone of voice]

No me importa. = I don't care. ¿A quién le importa? = Who cares.

No me digas. = You don't say. [can be sarcastic; literally it's "don't tell me"]

¿Y bien? = So? / So what? / Well?

Ya lo veremos. = We'll see. / We'll see about that. [potentially dismissive or potentially a wait and see sort of thing - I've used it to be like "I don't really know but we'll find out" or I've said it in a way like "let's wait and see what they have to say about it" sort of like not wanting to argue about it further]

No tiene sentido. = That doesn't make sense.

There are a handful of expressions that describe indifference like ni fu ni fa or a mí ni fu ni fa which is like "no matter" or "it makes no nevermind to me" almost

...

I will also include a handful of negation words/expressions. These generally just express a no, but they could be dismissive or they could be just an emphatic no. It's really contextually driven as they aren't necessarily rude but they're a very strong no.

En absoluto. = No way. / Absolutely not.

Ni modo. = No way.

Qué va. = No way.

Also para nada is like "at all" or "not at all" and it can be used in some expressions like no sirve para nada "it's totally useless" or "it's completely useless"

But para nada can also be used as a response. Someone might be like "oh I'm so sorry" and a response can be para nada "oh no worries" or "don't even worry about it"

...

There are some that I think might apply but they're not always dismissive. Like ¿y eso? is a bit of a normal response it's like "how come?" or "why's that?" or just asking for clarification on something or more information, but you could potentially ask it sarcastically.

Another two to keep in mind:

No te incumbe. = It has nothing to do with you. / It's not your business. [which can be snippy; if I'm trying to be polite I say con todo el respeto no te incumbe "with all due respect it's none of your business" which is firmer but not totally disrespectful; another more literal version is no es asunto tuyo which is "it's no business of yours"]

The snippier way to say this is métete en tus asuntos which is "mind your business" - literally "put yourself in your (own) affairs". This can be changed for politeness or plural... métanse en sus asuntos is plural for example like if you were addressing a bunch of people. I definitely heard a few teachers say this to us students.

Now this one is absolutely dismissive and is meant to put someone in their place:

¿Quién te ha dado vela en este entierro? = And what business is that of yours?

Literally it's "who gave you a candle in this funeral/burial?" - the idiomatic expression comes from giving a candle to the family members of the deceased at a funeral.

The implication here is "Why do you think you get a say in the matter?" ...just basically saying hey this isn't your business and you don't get an opinion

[dazeofcoral]

Padawans du rp, la vieille génération et la nouvelle...

Aujourd'hui, on est confronté à une réalité ; la communauté rp est vieille, on aime ni le lire, ni l'écrire mais c'est un fait.

L'âge de la plupart des rpgistes se situe entre 25 / 35 ans, il y en a encore qui sont au delà des 35, parce que surprise, ils ont commencé le rp il y a 20 ans, quand eux même étaient encore des enfants.

J'ai vu des rpgistes pointées du doigt parce qu'elles ont pris sous leur ailes une jeune fille de 14 ans. Encore s'il y avait des conversations étranges, je dirais. Encore s'il y avait des demandes d'informations personnelles, je dirais...

Mais non, c'est des rpgistes de 30-35 ans qui montrent à une gamine de 14 ans comment remplir une fiche, qui lui apprennent les bases même du rp, le codage pour les fiches, où chercher les avatars, noter les crédits, expliquent les TW, ... Et puis on a la police du rpg qui voit le mal partout et qui va les traiter de choses atroces parce qu'elles passent du temps à parler à une gamine de 14.. mais où va-t-on ?

Je me souviens, à mon époque (bonjour moi fossile) j'ai connu grand max 4 personnes de +18 ans sur un forum de +200 membres. Des jeunes femmes d'une vingtaines d'années, des membres, même pas dans le staff. Le reste, on était toutes et tous de jeunes gens entre 12 et 18 ans. La fonda avait à peine 16 ans et un des modo 14 ans. À l'époque, c'était rare les gens au delà de la vingtaine et pourtant c'est aussi ces gens là qui ont montré les base du rp à de jeunes gens. Qui rp parfois encore aujourd'hui.

Je ne suis plus sur beaucoup de forums mais l'an passé j'étais encore sur plus de dix forums et pas un seul forum avec un seul membre sous les 20 ans (du moins, qu'on sait, parce que mentir sur son âge est très populaire), donc je me demande, où diable voulez-vous qu'un.e gamin.e qui s'intéresse au rp écrit aille s'inscrire? Et oui, pour moi 14 piges c'est une gamine, mais la dite gamine dans la génération actuelle et l'époque où on vit sait des choses que moi-même je n'ai compris que vers mes 25 ans, ce qui en soit est très dérangeant mais c'est un autre débat. On ne parle pas encore du style de personnages joué par cette rpgiste, ni du style de liens qu'elle recherche, on parle du simple fait qu'une gamine de 14 ans s'est intéressée, s'est inscrite sur un forum qui ne mets aucune limite d'âge et qui a trouvé un groupe de rpgistes plus âgées qui lui expliquent les base du rp. De quel droit traiter ces rpgistes comme si elles étaient Dutroux en personne ? De quel droit afficher leurs pseudos sur une page de réseaux en disant que c'est des pédo-..., alors qu'elles aident une gamine à découvrir un hobby qu'on adore tous-tes? Je me sens obligé de préciser qu'aucune d'elle n'a de personnages qui a un lien romantique avec celui de la joueuse de 14 ans, donc aucun rp mal placé en cours, aucun propos mal placé, je sais même qu'elles ont expliqué à la dite jeune fille qu'elle ne devait pas espérer trouver un lien love parce que son âge va refroidir les autres rpgistes, et à raison ! Aucune personne majeure ne veut faire du rp romance avec en face un.e partenaire qui ne l'est pas, on cringe tous, c'est normal. Mais notre police de bonnes mœurs sur rpg a encore frappé. Alors je vous pose sincèrement la question, où des enfants de 12-18 ans doivent-ils apprendre à rp, comme nous l'avons fait à l'époque, s'ils ne peuvent à aucun moment parler à des rpgistes plus âgés sans quoi ces derniers sont accusés d'être des êtres infâmes? Et me dites pas que ces jeunes gens n'ont qu'à aller sur des rpg my little ponies, c'était de notre génération, celle-ci grandit avec des séries qui font passée cinquante nuance de grey pour une saveur vanille, shining, saw et l'exorciste pour des films barbies. Donc les forums pour bébés n'existent pas, les forums basés séries sont peuplés par des vieux, comment font les jeunes ?

[akonaman]

Everytime i hear news about POGOs feeling ko nag kaka justice na yung trauma na inabot ko nung 2019 Alam kong madami yung mawawalan ng trabaho but Filipinos deserve better.

- Most of the Chinese na nagwowork sa POGO are not using their real name pag pasok ng Pinas. Kaya takot na takot sila lumabas even sa mall kase baka ma question yung pagkatao nila. Kaya di na ko nagtaka kung pano nakalusot si Mayor Alice Guo. Some of them are using an English name.

- Uso kidnapping sa kanila and kapwa Chinese pa nila yung gumagawa nun kase wala naman silang bank account and puro lang sila cash pag sumasahod. 150k+ sahod nila kase once a month lang rd nila. Pero sahod na yun ng limang pinoy sa POGO.

- I won’t forget how disrespectful yung mga Chinese na kawork namin na lalaki. Most of them mas gustong babae yung partner ng Chinese on shift kase nakakapikon talaga yung ugali nila and prone sila sa away. Naranasan kong may nagsusuntukan sa harap ko while on shift. Very unprofessional. Mga bastos pa, they are sexualizing girls na kawork nila including us.

- Mostly na kinukuha nila is mga Chinese nationals na farmers, mga di nakapag aral, and laki sa hirap. Nothing wrong with being a farmer pero i would say na yung iba talaga sa kanila, wala talagang modo and halatang walang pinag aralan.

- Mapanakit sila. Nung naka gy shift ako that time may isang Chinese na trip talaga ko saktan. Habang naka break ako sa labas ng office dinaganan niya yung hita ko ng walang rason and sobrang nagpasa siya. Pinalagpas ko yun kase paborito yun ng boss. Take note na lalaki siya. There are times na bigla nya iuurong yung lamesa na kahoy minsan pag trip nya and babatuhin niya ko ng crumpled paper for no reason. He also used spoon sa balikat ko to call my attention habang kumakain ako ng lomi.

- Tatanggalin ka nila kapag may mistakes ka sa transaction. Puro pera from gambling yung need naming isend from diff banks and may isang Chinese dun na ang lala ng galit sakin. He mentioned thru google translate na malas daw ako. Shuta never ako nagka mistake sa transactions ko kase sobra akong nag iingat. Kalahating araw niya kong pinagmumura in Chinese dahil lang ako partner nya that day and hindi gumana yung pc nya.

- 12 hrs shift mo with 30 mins lunch. Literal na para kang OFW vibe pag andun ka. Yung feeling na alipin ka sa sarili mong bansa. Yung boss namin na Chinese nagagalit ng walang dahilan. Very unreasonable. Nahuli nya kong nagsasalamin and shuta sinigawan nya ko. Yung nag mentor naman sakin na babae, napuno na kase kumuha lang siya ng tissue sa box ang dami ng sinabi nung Chinese. Haha Pinakyuhan ni ate geraldine yung boss namin sabay Resign kinabukasan.

- Kung pera lang ang usapan I would say na eto yung pinaka madaling work na ginawa ko. Kase encoder kalang and same excel sheet lang gagamitin mo everyday. Pero wala siyang growth kase most of the time naka tunganga ka lang.

- I hate my experience in POGO given that 2 mos lang naman tinagal ko dahil gusto ko magpahinga sa BPO, mas ok na kong sigawan ng mga kano sa calls kesa maging alipin ng mga Chinese. Working environment there was awful for me. And inhumane. It was an eyeopener for me na wag magpa api sa sariling mong bansa.

- Some had good experiences with POGO, given that pumapantay at humihigit pa nga sa sahod ng mga bpo workers, pero sana hindi nila ma experience yung mga naexperience ko.

- There are still good Chinese na nakilala ako. Some of them kumapit na lang siguro sa ganitong trabaho to help their families in China. Sila lang yung mga pinagpepray ko na sana ok pa rin up until now.

PERO SATIN PA RIN ANG WEST PHILIPPINES SEA.

[madhousebox]

"You're not so bad as everyone says"

[Español]

"No eres tan malo como todos dicen"

--- Entonces, aquí un panel estilo cómic/manga, donde Ballora le da a Springtrap un inocente cumplido, y él se comporta como un Tsundere UwU

Yo no tengo ni idea de cómo planificar un panel de cómic que sea legible y armonioso; sólo agrego lo que pienso que se ve bien. Así que si se siente sobrecargado, probablemente así sea 😬

De todos modos, estoy satisfecha en un 80% con este trabajo! Eso es mucho! Y se ve tan... pastel, y... esponjoso. ¿Eso tiene sentido? Esa es la sensación que me da 😅

---

[ENGLISH]

"You're not as bad as everyone says"

--- So, here's a comic/manga style panel, where Ballora gives Springtrap an innocent compliment, and he acts like a Tsundere UwU

I have no idea how to plan a comic panel that is readable and harmonious; I just add what I think looks good. So if this feel overloaded, probably is.

Anyway, I am 80% satisfied with this job! That's a lot! And it looks so...pastel, and...fluffy. That makes sense? That's the feeling it gives me 😅

[nacho-varga-cabron]

Ey, I made an account on this weird little website just for you, Ignacio! I don’t really understand it, but I’m doing this for you. You should be grateful, I wanna know what you have to say! Since you’re always so quiet with me, you know I really think you should talk more. I like it when you give me answers that are more than one word. Always sooo tough and serious, lighten up, man! Have some fun, maybe smile more ;) Do you talk about me on here, Nachito? Ni modo, I’ll find out when I figure out how this works. I’m getting old, you have to cut me some slack :(

oh jesus christ

[cxpectopatronum]

“Look, if you’ve got something to say, don’t be shy. Spit it out.”

Era más misterioso y reservado incluso hasta para sus pensamientos más oscuros; pero la atmósfera deprimente y triste también era notada por su persona. A diferencia de la gente, claro, no transmitía más que un divertido suceso que esperaba pronto explotara. —Oh, me quejaba de mi poca paciencia, pero ni modo, a veces tienes que esperar a que todo ocurra. —Quizás había escuchado la frase en la radio. Ahora tenía sentido.

amycus & glenda : @thcgoodwitch

[technicallydecadentartisan]

Diario de une escritore aro-ace (vol. 3)

Una vez a lo largo y ancho de Twitter leí algo que comentaba une escritore —no recuerdo quién—, que elle escribía sobre vivencias que resultaban ajenas para indagar, buscar nuevas perspectivas y descubrir pequeños nuevos mundo a través de la escritura.

¿Sabes? Las historias de romance me fascinan. Hay algo que me trasmite o la empatía me hace vivir un reflejo de las emociones que trasmiten. Y es que ver/leer una comedia romántica, una historia pasional trágica o cualquiera de las narraciones del tema del Eros poseen un je ne sais quoi que me hacen querer plasmar eso en un texto propio (para quien llegue a ese relato lo viva intensamente).

De este modo, aventurarme a escribir una novela romántica se asemeja a esa sensación/situación que plasma ese escritore tuitere (me gustaron mucho esas palabras y se me quedaron grabadas).

Antes de seguir

Me quiero parar a romper algún tabú, idea preconcebida, el prejuicio de que escribir romántica es sencillo. Porque no lo es. Como cada género posee sus dificultades.

Dicho esto, continuemos

Una de mis primeras ideas era escribir un romance alo. Tengo a medias una historia de vampires con todo su erotismo y sensualidad. Parecía sencillo: los clichés los tengo, el lenguaje alo para el amor lo conozco (más o menos) y tan solo hay que entretejer en la narración los sentimientos, emociones, pasiones, pulsiones... No me pareció difícil. Claro que quizá conviene aclarar que esta historia nació cuando yo tenía 16 y no sabía que existía la asexualidad.

¿Cuál fue el resultado? Que cuando me reencontré con esta historia, ya con 27 años (después de tropezarme con ella a los 18, 20 y 22) me di cuenta de varias cosas:

El romance de les protas no era tan alo. De hecho, ella es bastante demisexual y demirromántica.

El romance alo lleno de pulsiones está en el otro protagonista. Esto creo que es así, porque su narración es más secundaria y reducida a sus puntos de vista a través de un diario.

Sí que había descripciones sobre las sensaciones de la protagonista, pero no había un objeto de deseo. Así que se quedaba un poco (mucho) a medias de lo que yo aspiraba a conseguir.

¡Vaya qué curioso todo! (no en perspectiva)

Desde los 16 hasta ahora (vamos hasta la actualidad para encontrarnos con este post) he leído un motón de novela rosa. En ella he visto narraciones vibrantes, llenas de atracción sexual, de chispas y personajes que se atraen le une a le otre sin remedio. Yo aspiraba de manera inconsciente a esto.

Voy por partes.

Se que cada autore:

posee su propio estilo;

bebe de determinadas obras y escritores;

aspira a plasmar la realidad de una manera particular.

Dicho esto, yo quería trasmitir eso que yo la mitad de las veces no sé ni que existe (mi realidad es una que no coincide con la del todo el mundo y no siempre soy consciente —creo que es algo bastante normal. CREO—): la tensión sexo-afectiva nacida de la atracción.

Spoiler: no lo he conseguido. Pero sí que mi estilo tiende a hacer introspección en las sensaciones de les personajes mediante mil recursos literarios. Así que esa manera de narrar, la tengo.

La historia que estoy escribiendo con le prota asexual y demiaro, posee también sus propios retos (como ya te he contada), pero lo que, en el fondo, quiero hacer es escribir una de esas novelas en las que cada gesto es electrizante, donde sepa cómo es la interacción alo.

¿Por qué? Quizá solo un reto mío. Una espinita clavada que aspiro algún día a quitarme. (Una vez en la vida, tampoco vamos a abusar ja, ja, ja). De momento, estoy indagando en el imaginario en pañales de los personajes asexuales y/o arrománticos (y de su espectro). Lo cierto es que me está gustando mucho. También siento que me encuentro mucho más a gusto.

¿Tú también te has enfrentado a alguna situación similar?

[d-lennyart]

Warning? No idea, I just wanted to say that lately I've been a bit unmotivated, reason? I don't know Anyway, ugly doodle of my ocs in their old design and of the opposite gender.

╰───────────────╮✧•°🍄°•✧ ╭───────────────╯

¿Advertencia? Ni idea, solo quería decir que últimamente he estado un poco desmotivado, ¿Razón? No sé De todos modos, garabato feo de mis ocs en su diseño antiguo y del género opuesto.

[unvielingshamelesspoetics]

Sandra Cisneros conveys detailed instructions for the organization of her funeral in the event of her death. In her poem “Instructions for My Funeral” incorporates various cultural symbols, including copal (a tree resin used as a ceremonious incense since the time of the Maya/Aztec), her rebozo (a class Mexican women’s garment similar to a shawl), petate as a substitute for a standard coffin (a bedroll made from palm fibers dating back to Aztec times), and mezcal (a Mexican spirit that is drank collectively, a symbol of friendship and community) (Cisneros 3-5, 29). 

In a notable departure from patriarchal Christian traditions, Cisneros explicitly rejects Christian rituals for her funeral, offering an alternative, “Allow no Christian rituals / for this bitch, but, if / you like, you may invite/... a witch woman to spit / orange water and chant / an Otomí prayer”(Cisneros 7-13). This choice reflects her preference for the indigenous practices rooted in the cultural environment of San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, Mexico (Cisneros, biography). 

The poem’s significance is perhaps the most pronounced in a stanza in which Cisneros emphatically affirms her connection to her Mexican context: “Send no ashes north…/ I belong here, / under Mexican maguey / beneath a carved mesquite / bench that says Ni Modo” (Cisneros 14, 17-20). Even in death, Cisneros underscores that despite her American birth, her true sense of belonging ties her intimately to Mexico, not the United States.