#what an argentine for everyone else to live up to!

[anintelligentoctopus]

omg Sarah Sarah Sarah!! There was so Much in there!! Especially that climax!! There were a couple of little wobbles here and there but tbf it looked Very difficult

[dnangelic]

what kind of catharsis do you need ?

tears .

You've been holding it all in for so long, haven't you? It seems like there's no time, no space to fall apart. But you don't have to pretend to not be hurting. The tide of pain in you is cresting. Let it out. There's no judgement here.

freedom .

You've had the weight of the world on your shoulders, haven't you. It's okay to put the burden down, stretch your legs -- everything won't fall apart if you just take a second to breathe. Go for a late night drive with the windows down and the radio up. Howl at the moon. Break something. You earned it.

tagged by @foolshoujo thank u!! ✨✨

[blubffsd]

— WORLDS COLLIDE.

summary: It's the world cup final, your boyfriend and his national team reached the final again. But this time he's playing against your country.

note: play "The Great War" by Taylor Swift if you wanna a better experience.

thank you so much @http-isabela for make this with me, this is yours too girl 😋😋

warnings: a lot of drama.

Mia is in the bathroom of the hotel room looking at the shirt she is wearing. It's the France jersey, with the number 10 on the back and her boyfriend's last name too. At another time she would have been proud to wear it, but now she feels uncomfortable. She knows she doesn't want to use it.

This event and football itself is very important to her boyfriend and it's also important to her. Not only because of Kylian, her whole family has always been related to this sport and her father was a player too.

Her boyfriend's parents and his little brother are in the room too, they're all totally excited and all they're talking about is who could win the match. Obviously they are sure that France will be the winner and they really want it to be so. But Mia can't say the same.

She leave the bathroom under the gaze of Fayza, who noticed her strange behavior today, but didn't want to tell her anything. Mia walk over and sit next to Ethan, and he rests his head on her shoulder.

—Hey, I don't think I should go, I'm very nauseous and I don't think that going to the game gonna be the best, what if it's a virus or something contagious?

—Oh, please. –Ethan laughed– what you have is called nerves, you're afraid to see Kylian play, I understand you.

The fear is actually seeing Kylian win.

—Come on, Mia. Don't be negative, you'll see that we'll do very well –this time it was Fayza who spoke to her trying to calm her down.

—I can even see the photo of us kissing the cup just like in 2018 –her brother-in-law hugs her by the shoulders.

Why does everyone assume she wants France to win? Mia doesn't know what to do or say, she wants to think of something else so they will believe her and leave her alone in the room, but she knows they won't allow that. Kylian needs her there to feel good, but this time she doesn't want to support him.

Mia stays in the room with her boyfriend's family until it's time to go to the stadium. She leaves the hotel knowing that what is about to happen is not going to be easy.

And that what happened in 2018 is going to happen again, no matter which country she support.

As she walk into the stadium her boyfriend is on the pitch warming up with his national team, he's pretty determined to win today. His ambition doesn't let him think about anything other than the possibility of raising the cup a second time and fulfilling his dream again. On the other hand, her love for her country, her father and the sport doesn't let her think about anything other than seeing Lio win the cup, even if it means that her boyfriend loses.

Mia had even seen several comments on instagram posts from people who expected her to support her boyfriend's country, since it was the place where she lived now. Even several Kylian fans had sent her messages threatening her to support him and not her country.

Mia knows that this isn't a normal football match, it could say that the pride of two countries was being played. And that both the Argentines and the French expected her to support their respective countries. The Argentines because it's her country of birth and she is the daughter of one of the most beloved football players in the country, and even Messi's former coach, also because of the good relationship she has with some players and their families, and the French because she is the girlfriend of their biggest star and they don't want her to distract him.

She feels like everyone is waiting to see what she does but even she doesn't know what she wants to do.

Mia knows that she doesn't want to support her boyfriend's country, she knows that she feels like a black sheep sitting on the side of France and she also knows that now all the Argentine media are attacking her, like in 2018.

Mia knows everything that is happening and everything that she is feeling right now but she doesn't know how to act in the face of it. And it's not very easy to think about that when she has a camera in her face as she sit next to Ethan in the stands, knowing that her dad will be disappointed at the moment he sees her in the Kylian jersey.

Behind Mia are her in-laws sitting, with Jirès and Melissa and on the other side Hakimi and Hiba, who don't stop talking about how very proud she must feel to be about to see her boyfriend be world champion for the second time.

Everything that was happening around her is making Mia very nervous, it won't be long before the game starts and she knows that there are many people in the stands recording her to prove or deny that she is supporting Kylian just by seeing her reactions.

All the people sitting around her supporting her boyfriend are talking but she doesn't really pay attention until she hear her name.

—Right, Mia? –Jirès is looking at her waiting for her answer.

—Sorry, I didn't hear you, what?

—Your father was a player for the Argentine national team, right? –Mia nod– and he never made it to any world finals, right?

—No, but he won World Cups in Argentina as a coach.

She doesn't know why he asked her that, but it made her feel bad. Mia feels Melissa's gaze on her, so she turns to look at her and see her mocking face.

—The good thing is that now you are with a true champion.

What did she just say?

What did she mean by "a true champion"? Was it a roundabout way of saying that my dad was a failure or something? Or did she just want to praise Kylian and chose the wrong words?

Mia wants to believe that it wasn't malicious, but Melissa's expectant gaze on her, waiting for some reaction on her part, makes things clear to her. And she weren't going to let her humiliate her dad like that.

She is about to say something she'll regret later, but Ethan interrupt her saying that the game is about to start.

When the game started and she saw the Argentina players touch the ball, she remembered the times her dad took her to see him at his games or training sessions, the way he told her how proud he was to be able to say that he played for his country, and how he always taught her that she never have to forget where she came from or the difficult situations she went through, because that's who she is.

Mia remembered all the conversations that he and she used to have, everything they used to do before she moved to France, before everything changed.

She can't screw it all up again, so she gets up from her seat to do what she wanted to do since she arrived in Qatar: cheer on her country.

Mia knows that there are many French fans recording her while she sings "Muchachos" or other songs supporting Argentina, she is aware of all the signs that her brothers-in-law, her in-laws and her boyfriend's friends have given her to sit down and shut up, but honestly at this moment she cares in the least.

After a while of shouting to the beat of the Argentine fans, she sits down while she feels the disapproving looks of her boyfriend's family. They are looking at are so badly that it really makes her uncomfortable, but she tries to ignore it.

This is the moment that she and her father had waited all their lives and what they think didn't affect her joy and her desire to support Argentina at all.

The atmosphere in the box is tense after Mia have supported Argentina with the France shirt on, she were too brave to do that.

But obviously everything got worse.

Mia feels how her breathing paused, the whistle blows, it's a penalty kick for Argentina.

Everyone around her is too deep in their own mind to notice her happy face.

The person in charge of kicking the penalty is obviously Lio, she does't know how it happened, the only thing she saw was the ball going through the net of the French goal.

Her body acts on its own at this point. Lio scored the first goal of the game, she gets up from her seat shouting with happiness like the rest of the Argentines.

Right now she doesn't care that she is wearing the France jersey, that Ethan is next to her, or that her boyfriend can see her. Nothing matters now.

Ethan took her arm with a lot of force making her sit again.

—What's happening to you? You're crazy, don't do that again. –her brother-in-law looks at her angrily, with a frown and a glare.

—Ethan let me go, you're hurting me –she raised her voice so he can hear.

But he ignores her words, so in a sudden movement she let go of his grip, seeing that he left the mark of his hand on her arm.

—How dare you support Argentina and then celebrate their goals? You have my brother's number jersey on your back.

—Calm down Ethan, I couldn't help it.

It's my fucking country that scored, what you do expect me to do? Cry?

—Don't do it again.

Mia is about to answer but Hiba grabs her shoulders stopping as a sign to shut up, so she did.

—Enough both of you, silence. Don't make a fuss here. Ethan, relax, please. –Hakimi intervenes this time seeing the tension between the two of them.

—I can't calm down, she's celebrating that we're losing. –he turns to see Achraf and then back to Mia.– What's wrong with you?

She knew this was going to happen and she couldn't be more sorry she went to the game.

—Ethan, please. It was an impulse, let's focus on the game, there are cameras everywhere. –says Hiba trying to end the discussion.

Ethan looks at Mia for the last time and she prefer to remain silent.

She turns to see Hiba and smile at her, as a sign of gratitude for having calmed the situation, but she just nods.

After 13 minutes where Argentina has absolute possession of the ball, Di María scores the second goal of the match.

Mia rises from her seat again, whooping with excitement, as she watches the players from her country hug each other.

This time no one stopped her.

The only thing she thinks about is her father, who could never win the world cup when he was playing, knowing that right now he is probably shedding happy tears at home, almost feeling the cup in his hands.

When her excitement fades a bit, she sit down again, then Ethan tosses her jacket onto her lap, the jacket that's been on his since they sat down. Mia looks at him confused.

—You're a fucking traitor –he yells close to her face.

Wilfried puts his hand on Ethan's chest, pulling him back away from her.

—Stop son, don't do that.

Mia keep seeing his angry face, she never seen him like this.

—You don't deserve the shirt with my last name on your back –he yells even louder.

She feels how her pulse quickens.

—Kylian deserves more from you, it can't be that you don't support him when he needs you the most –Hiba brings her face closer to Mia whispering– Stop doing stupid things, you're crazy. You're wearing Kylian's jersey and sitting next to his family as you clap for the enemy.

Enemy? It's my country, my people, my father and his dream, it's all my life.

—Have respect for him.

Mia doesn't know what to answer so she looks back at the field.

The first half passed, with a 2-0 result with Argentina winning. She is all the time with her eyes fixed on the field, she doesn't have enough courage to look at someone.

Now Mia is sitting between Hakimi and Ethan, both of them mad at her.

She is deep in her thoughts, she doesn't know what to do, her father will be devastated if he sees her supporting France and Kylian will be more than disappointed if he sees her continue supporting Argentina.

It feels like two worlds about to collide, her life in Argentina and her life in France. Her father and the people she loves against her partner and everyone around them. Both sides expect her to be with them.

She doesn't notice that the players have returned to the field until she hear the whistle of the referee starting the second half of the game.

The match continues with France without scoring a goal, the players already a bit tired and making fouls.

But the time came, a player falls in the Argentine area after a push from Otamendi, the referee whistles indicating the penalty.

Kylian is going to kick it.

Mia feels her body tense, everything in her wishing he would miss the penalty. She closes her eyes feeling guilty about her thoughts.

Seconds later she hears everyone around her scream with excitement, she opened her eyes and saw all the French people celebrate, Ethan, Hakimi, Hiba, Wilfried, Fayza, Jirès and Melissa scream and hug each other with excitement.

Mia and Ethan make contact for the first time after the fight, his eyes teary from the excitement and joy of his brother's goal. Joy she doesn't feel.

Her eyes go to the field, looking for Kylian. She realizes that he was already looking at her, pointing at her, dedicating the goal to her. She smiles slightly, feeling completely guilty.

The celebration ended, just a minute after scoring the first goal, Kylian scored the second.

Her body completely tenses up, her breathing stops for a few seconds, it's the same feeling as when she was 8 years old and she saw her dad lose a game. Maybe he feels the same now.

Mia wants to cry and run away, she can't be there.

Everyone around her shouts with joy, Kylian on the field hugs his teammates.

Once the celebration is over, Kylian turns his gaze towards her, her eyes met his. She can't take it anymore and she let out a sob, covering her face with her hands.

—Are you seriously crying? –she looks up and sees Achraf, looking at her with anger and disappointment. Mia tries to say something, but no words come out of her mouth.

The rest of the game was intense, Argentina scored another goal, wanting to avoid another fight, she just lowered her head, put her hands together and mentally thanked for the goal.

Not long after, Kylian tied the game for the second time. Making a goal that, in addition to achieving his hat-trick, would change everything.

Ethan is excited, shouting and celebrating, telling Kylian from afar that he is the best, that he is incredible.

The last minutes of the game were the worst.

Dybala took the ball from Kylian, preventing the tiebreaker at the last minute, making her boyfriend yell in frustration.

The game ended and the penalties came, the players and the referees are preparing for what is to come.

Mia takes her jacket and head to the bathroom, she needs to calm down a bit and be alone. Ethan didn't take his eyes off her until he saw her disappear into the crowd.

Once inside the bathroom she takes a deep breath trying to control her breathing, everything around her is spinning, she is about to have a panic attack.

Mia grabs her phone as fast as she can and send a message to the only person who can help her right now.

Mia tries to take big breaths to calm her thoughts but she can't. Ethan hates her right now. Hakimi and Hiba are upset with her. She doesn't feel comfortable there at all.

Mia wants someone to understand at least one of her reasons for supporting her country. Although she knows that the simple fact of being her country was enough. But there is much more than that.

She hears someone knock on the bathroom door.

—Is occupied –her voice is shaking.

—Miss Mia? Mrs. Antonella sent us, she said that she spoke with you recently.

She opened the bathroom door to find two security men, both of whom gave her a slight smile and guided her to the opposing team's box.

Mia manage to calm her breathing and her mind on the way to the box, knowing that she would no longer have to deal with the disapproving looks reassured her a lot.

She finally arrive and see Antonella waiting for her, she rushes over to hug her.

—Tranquilizate, ¿sí? No pasa nada –she says while stroking her hair– Ya está.

Mia nods her head and give her a small smile.

—Decime entonces, ¿qué pasó? (so tell me, what's happened?) –she sees the concern on her face.

—No me siento cómoda allá, no me puedo hacer la triste (i don't feel comfortable there, i can't pretend to be sad) –she laugh a little– no quiero volver (i don't wanna comeback there)

Anto smiled at Mia again.

—Bueno vení, vamos a ponerte otra cosa, que te van a decir mufa acá si te ven con eso puesto. (Well come on, we're going to give you another shirt, because if they see you with that shirt they're going to tell you that you're bad luck.)

Antonella goes to the box to look through her things and returns with an Argentina shirt with the number 24.

—No tenía ninguna yo, así que le pedí a las chicas y la novia de Enzo te prestó esa (I didn't have any t-shirt, so i asks the girls and Enzo's girlfriend lent you that one.) –she gives her the shirt and guides her to the bathroom.

Mia walks into the bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror. She knows that if she changes her shirt she betray her boyfriend and that everything would get worse, but she doesn't care.

She leaves the bathroom with the Argentina shirt on and she feels more comfortable and safe being on that side of the stands.

Just as Mia sit down next to Antonella, the referee blows his whistle indicating to Kylian that he should take the first penalty. He kicks and scores, the entire audience celebrates with him. He looks happy.

—Silence –Anto laugh– My husband is going to kick.

Everyone wait for Lio to kick with sweaty hands and heart to the fullest, ready for anything. Antonella was the first to shout the goal, being imitated by all. They all hug each other. Mia hugs Mateo, completely moved.

The next penalty was missed, Dibu Martinez saved it. The silence from the French audience was chilling. Argentina for its part celebrates and praises its goalkeeper. Happiness overflows her.

Her phone was ringing with messages from your father, full of emotion about what is happening. Mia feels her teary eyes, his dream is coming true.

She hears Antonella call out to you and point to the field, Kylian is grabbing Enzo by the jersey. Antoine and Olivier try to calm the situation, while Di María and Cuti Romero keep Enzo away from her boyfriend.

Mia sees Kylian's angry face while Enzo was talking to him, surely provoking him, he points in her direction. She feels her skin crawl when Kylian turns to where she is and looks at her and her shirt.

Enzo doesn't stop with the taunts, she doesn't know what he's saying, but he keeps pointing at her until Oliviar punches him in the face.

Security intervenes and separates them, but her eyes are fixed on Kylian, who didn't move from his place, looking at her from afar, his eyes reflecting pain.

The people around her yell in anger at the interruption of penalties.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, making she looks away from Kylian.

She stares at her phone for a few seconds, feeling a slight pain in her chest.

Mia gets up from her seat without wanting to attract anyone's attention and lock herself in the bathroom, quite overwhelmed by everything that's happening, and not wanting to face whatever it's going to happen.

She looks at her in the mirror while she thinks about everything that will happen when this is over, she doesn't know what will happen, but she knows that it will not be good.

She hears everyone nearby yelling and you open the bathroom door to find out that Argentina just won.

All hugging and crying with joy.

Her dad's dream came true, the dream that made her wait for him for more than one birthday, the dream that made her dad not go to the hospital when you were born, the dream that forced her to love football to spend time with her dad.

The moment she has been waiting for her whole life has just arrived. And she wants to cry with happiness, her dad is surely the happiest man on earth and she is happy with that. Although she would have liked him to have been just as happy on her birthdays, or everytime he was with her.

Mia leaves the bathroom coming back to reality, all the happiness she felt a second ago gone. She is thinking about Kylian now, she needs to talk to him and try to explain something to him, if she can, but she knows that he won't want to and that no one is going to let her get close.

Mia feels the tears running down her cheeks, everything she said really hurt her, mostly what she said about her dad, but she can't blame her, although it hurts, she's right after all.

She puts on her jacket, the same one that Ethan had thrown at her completely angrily a few hours ago, and she goes to the exit of the stadium.

She takes the first taxi she finds and go to the hotel, she quickly goes to her room once she arrived and put her things away as fast as she could.

She takes the first shirt she finds and take off Enzo's to put that one on.

She looks for the fastest flight to Paris and buy tickets for the first one available.

She has to go.

She can't see Kylian, she can't look him in the eye.

She brokes his trust in her.

His brothers hates her

His father looks at her with contempt.

His friends do the same, reminding her that everything she did was wrong.

She rushes her steps in the lobby to leave the hotel as soon as possible, she takes another taxi, this time bound for the airport.

She ruined everything, like in 2018.

note: i really tried my best this time lol

tags: @suzysface @mrswhitethornbelikov

[crescentbea02]

"Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me" pt. 1 (Timeskip!Oikawa x fem! reader)

Tropes: second chance romance, long distance, friends to lovers, right person wrong time, ex-relationship,

Summary: In which Oikawa Tooru finds himself forecefully reviving memories in a flight for Japan, in hopes to reecounter with the one person that has him on a chokehold even after six years apart.

Part 1: here

ハイキュー

Some say that time heals all wounds. That the hands of the clock smooth the skin, that spread peace over our body, the peace of passing time. Saying goodbye to our phases, living in peace with what we once were, with what we once had.

Oikawa was a firm believer in that. He was a strong person, he had always been a strong person. A person too strong for this world, who seemed to take whatever trick the universe played on him. He didn't think anything else was going to make him collapse to the ground other than his ambitions. Or rather the lack of them.

His ambitions, his goals, his dreams were always in the first place for him. That was why so many girls had already dumped him for it. For being in a constant competition between them and the great love of his life, volleyball.

Oikawa always wanted more, he always wanted to go higher. He was a wild horse without dominance. A current of a winter wind. He was never satisfied. He always wanted more and more. And if for that he had to be alone, without serious commitments to any person, no matter how much he liked her, he would do it.

That was what he thought until he met Y/N.

“Tooru” a voice sounded.

An empty suitcase on top of his bed was enough to make his heart sink. The boy, now twenty-five, turned towards the doorway of his room. A small smile painted his face when he saw Emma, ​​his current girlfriend, in his doorway.

She looked at the mess of clothes, sneakers and towels on top of the player's bed with a mischievous smile.

“What is going on?” she asked, walking into the room with a raised eyebrow.

What wasn't going on would be easier to answer.

Over the years, Oikawa has shaped itself on its own terms. He continued to fight, to work, until he ended up where he was now. An Olympic champion, playing for the Argentine national team, with so many trophies that not even the shelf could fit. It was what he deserved, after so many years of being spurned, if there was one thing he deserved was that. Now he had Emma, ​​a beautiful model he had met at a company conference, in his life. The two were fine, there were no arguments or dramas, no crying, no passion.

But how unfair was the world, he still was not satisfied.

“I look so good in so many clothes that I can’t seem to decide which ones to take” he gave her one of his playful smiles, those smiles that everyone complained about how annoying they were.

Every piece of clothing strewn across the bed seemed to be a reason why his heart was squeezing with every minute that brought him closer to the moment he would land in Japan. Argentina was his home now, but part of his heart would always be buried in Japanese soil. Mainly because of all her favorite people who lived there. But he hadn't visited him for a couple of years, and the times he did go it was just for a few days to spend time with his family. Oikawa had games to win, training to do, in Argentina.

Imagine his surprise when his national team coach announced a supposed season in a foreign country for one of the players. All eyes were on Oikawa, and he quickly felt his heart drop when he realized that they would be spending some time in Japan to train for the 2021 Olympics. some time in the country, even if it was a thank you gift for Oikawa's effort.

Such news led Oikawa to immediately call Iwaizumi, who pretended to be extremely irritated with the fact that, very possibly, he had to put up with his friend in all his training sessions, teasing his players and upsetting everyone. The thing Oikawa knew how to do best in addition to his services. But he knew that Iwaizumi would be happy to see him. He always was, despite trying to hide it.

This ended up causing Iwaizumi to send him some high school photographs that he had found in the bedroom of his old house.

And one of them was the same one he kept in his bedside table drawer. Another reason why the various relationships he had in Argentina did not last long.

A picture of him and his high school girlfriend. Y/N L/N. What for many was seen as a puppy love, for Oikawa it had been much more than that. It had been proof of how his ambitions would always trump the person he was with. Even if he loved that person even more than he loved himself.

It looked like she haunted him. From the moment he left on that plane, she had never left his mind. No matter how hard he tried to get her to leave.

“Let me help you choose” Emma smiled, with her sweet smile that lit up an entire room. He approached the bed full of clothes and began to choose the clothes that Oikawa liked the most, and that best suited him “Look, these ones will look good with you in Japan. Don’t forget it’s cooler there” she held a sweater and struck him with her playful eyes.

Oikawa laughed.

“I just wish I could take everything” he said, in a nervous tone “Japan is my home, but Argentina slowly also became it.” he took one of his favorite jeans and fold them along with Emma “I’m afraid it will be those situations when you feel like nowhere feels at home anymore.”

“It won’t be” Emma answered, on her usual serene, mature and understanding voice "Some people don't even have one home. Be grateful that you belong to two places at the same time. If you don’t have one, you always have the other”

That wasn't really what worried him. After all, Oikawa had always believed that his home is what he made it.

What worried him was the deliberate choice he was going to make, which was to talk to someone who had been his home after six years of not even saying a word to her. But even so, he still felt her inside him.

And it was his fault, no one else's.

When the fateful day of the trip arrived, Oikawa didn't know if he loved or hated airplanes.He always loved space. He loved anything that did not have limits. But he hated feeling helpless. At any moment the plane could crash, and he wasn't going to be able to do anything about it.

With his head leaning against the window, he looked up at the starry night sky. That sky that reminded him so much of his youth. He thought about what would happen when he saw his friends again. He knew nothing ever changed, but it still made him a little nervous to imagine awkward silences and not the chaotic energy that used to happen whenever they met.

And he kept thinking of Y/N.

In his innocent nineteen-year-old mind, in a faraway country, building his future alone, after breaking up with his girlfriend of two years. With the one person who made him question his love of volleyball.

Oikawa chose his dreams over her, and he knew Y/N would never blame him for it. She didn't blame him so much that, even after that, she insisted that they remain friends.

At the time Oikawa thought she had been selfish. If Y/N could perfectly live her life in Japan, talking to him every day, just like a friend, which he no longer could remember what it was like, he couldn't. The distance, the time apart, only made him love her even more. He saw her everywhere he went. As soon as he saw a (y/h/c) hair his heart filled with hope that maybe it was she, in a sudden impulse of passion, who had come to visit him.

But it wasn't her.

It was never her.

A year went by, and Oikawa couldn't look at any woman he met without thinking about Y/N, how much he wanted her to be with him. How much he should be talking to her on the phone, that she must already be worried because he hadn't said anything in some weeks. Then, they always found that photograph in the drawer. And then they left the house, unintentionally hurt by him.

He thought that time would heal the wounds, that the hands of the clock would soften his skin, that they would spread peace over his body, the peace of passing time. Saying goodbye to his phases, living in peace with what he once was, with what he once had.

Because of this, Oikawa decided to give Y/N a break. And pretend that she didn't exist, or that she never existed. Maybe if he pretended she didn't exist, he would eventually forget about her existence. A decision that now, at twenty five years old, made him want to bang his head on the wall with the stupidity of his thinking.

But, after all, he was only twenty years old. And what does a person know at twenty?

“Good evening, would you like some snacks, sir?” one of the hostesses asked.

Oikawa slowly returned to real life. He took his brown eyes from the window and faced the hostess with a smile.

“Some milk bread, please”

ハイキュー

some silly idea I thought of. i crave for second chance romance. pt 1 of maybe 3 parts. i hope you liked it <33

[sparkles-oflight]

FANÁTICO - The references + Argentinian Politics

So, Lali released a new single called "FANÁTICO" and if you are out of the loop like I was this, you'd think this is another video calling out haters like a lot of artists do.

TURNS OUT, it's directed at a very important person in Argentina at the moment, and everyone should be talking about it.

I'll list all the silly references I was able to get and all the info I was able to find on the video undercut. If you see something wrong or know something else, feel free to add more info.

FANÁTICO's lyrics in English

WHO THE FUCK IS LALI?

Okay, first thing is first: Who is Lali?

Lali (Mariana Espósito) is an Argentinian singer who began her career in acting in the Cris Morena novela "Ricón de Luz". Her biggest role was in "Casi Angéles" where she belonged to a band called Teen Angels.

In 2022, she came out as Bi and she also sang the national anthem of Argentina at the World Cup in Qatar

Not only that but she's probably one of the biggest - if not the biggest - Argentinian pop artists at the moment.

SILLY REFERENCES

Now, back to the MV, let's start with silly and unrelated references to Argentina politics I was able to catch.

It says "Day 33". Lali is turning 33 this year.

The nun is a reference to a character she played in a novela called "Esperanza Mía".

I'm not sure about this one, but her style of clothing reminds me of Dolly Parton

The bodyguard has a necklace that says "Disciplina" one of Lali's songs from the last album

The dress and hair are a reference to Miley Cyrus' "Flowers". Lali has referenced her multiple times and says she has a crush on her.

While this dude walks in she mentions her song "Disciplina" again which is about BDSM, so I think that's what this is referencing to.

WHO THE FUCK IS MILEI?

If you don't know who Javier Milei is, allow me to introduce him to you.

Milei is the current president of Argentina. He is the head of a right/extreme-right wing party called the Partido Libertário.

After Milei won the elections, Lali expressed her sadness and he said he only listened to Rolling Stones and that he didn't know who Lali is

"Lali Espósito is sad about the victor of Javier Milei, and he replies with: I only hear Rolling Stones

The Argentine actress expressed her displeasure after the victory of the leader of La Libertad Avanza in the primary elections. “Sorry, I don’t know who she is,” the politician replied."

His political party was also responsible for spreading Fake News about Lali (claiming she was leaving the country or she was living of the government's money)

"The new fake news from Javier Milei's trolls against Lali Espósito: they are obsessed

Troll accounts, endorsed by the President of the Nation himself, once again invented fake news to attack Lali Espósito."

MILEI LYRICS REFERENCES

Some of these references I couldn't get on my own so here's a link with sources

Referring to the fact he claimed to not know her, but he can't shut up about it

(also, even if it was true... dude... you have to know your country's biggest stars as a president. you have to know about culture to be able to to manage its funds)

Reference to the times he has liked anti-lali posts

A reference to Lali saying he is is unfair and violent and inviting him to one of her shows.

MILEI VISUAL REFERENCES

This is not just about Milei, but I didn't know where else to put it.

A reference to Milei claiming to not know Lali

Iñaki Gutierréz worked for the government and has called Lali a "delinquent", but also claimed he's not an idiot and her music is good. Thus the wardrobe change.

This man wearing a leather jacket is a direct reference to Milei. They are around the same age, Milei wears leather jacktes, and this actor is imitating his way of screaming. Here's Milei screaming at a VOX meeting (far right movement in Spain):

unrelated but Vox has annexed Portugal in their campaigns and as a Portuguese person I feel the need to tell them to fuck off

in a "blink and you'll miss it" moment, we see a girl wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt with the Argentinian colors

Also, the Libertários (the supporters of Milei's Party) have called her Lali "Depósito" (storage), and that's why the whole MV is in a storage room. You can see some of their marketing on that using AI-generated images here

MARKETING OF THE SONG

Surprisingly, this song just.... dropped.

Well... not really.

A couple of days before the song was released, a poster of Lali showed up in the streets of Buenos Aires.

The following day, it was vandalized

People began speculating and the next day she announced a new single to her upcoming album. With the release of the MV, it was revealed she did it.

Also, I think that's supposed to be a reference to something, but I couldn't find anything.

If I missed anything, let me know ;)

[sputnikodin]

re: the watcher anger

i know $6 a month isn't a lot in the united states, but they have a pretty international audicence and with currency exchange, $6 is a lot. like in hong kong that's $50 a month, mexico its 102 pesos a month, in the phillipines that's 345 pesos a month, in argentina that's 5,221 argentine pesos--you get the idea. hell, i live in the us and i can't even afford to spend an extra $6 a month 😭

i agree on paying creators fairly, and i know watcher has 25 employees who deserve to paid. but the channel already pulls in over $100k a month from patreon alone; they also make bank from all their sponsors and merch sales. i mean, one of their main series is steven lim eating expensive food like gold flaked beef. i mean, he has a new tesla!

idk it just feels like that ceo thing where they aren't happy with consistent success, it needs to be increasing success. but ofc idk them, i'm just an outside observer so idk the full story, etc.

first up -- i actually think $6 a month IS a lot for some people in the US & have talked in private w friends about how i wish they'd started at like, $1-$3/mo or smth because even that would make it more affordable for a lot of their fans :-) just to clear that up! $6 is a lot when most streaming services that offer way more than 2x as much content cost like 2x as much on average (i think? the only streaming service i have is for baseball, i pirate everything else so idk). $6 a month is also a lot, Period, for many people, regardless of context. it's the principle of paying for it at all that was my main point in that post

to everything else -- great points and i appreciate the info and your perspective. re: money i know $100k/mo sounds like a lot + they have the other revenue sources you mentioned but i think it's important to keep in mind that they're not just paying for their own/their employees' lives but also funding the shit they make -- travel, gear, production costs, everything they need to buy for the videos etc. like it's not JUST 28 paychecks that the money is going towards but also the necessary costs of the job itself. not to mention that at least shane steven and ryan live in a super HCOL area ($100k/yr for a single person is literally considered "low income" in san francisco lmao & i dont even wanna know what it is in los angeles). they could still be making bank, idk! i have literally no idea what their finances look like, i'm spitballing the same as everyone else. but i think shit costs more than a lot of people realize

i have zero argument with the frustrations with how expensive this will be for their non-usamerican audiences, i'm really sorry that they didn't roll out different prices for different locations or like ... seem to take that into consideration at all. like i said in the original post, i have no beef with anyone who is personally upset about getting priced out of content they love. honestly my only point here is that i do not doubt at all that everything they release on watcher will be uploaded to piracy sites by people w accounts & that everyone anywhere who is capable of piracy (ik some countries are harsh about it but # of countries where it faces strict repercussions < # of countries where watcher's pricing is prohibitively expensive afaik) will be able to access it, and i bring that up more in hopes that it's encouraging for people worried about getting to still watch their content than bc i'm trying to argue anything

ultimately i still think this was not an outrageous thing for them to do & i empathize with people who are pissed and sad with the Way this is going down but i still at the end of the day think we gotta adjust to artists wanting & requesting to be paid regularly and directly for their work cuz that is the world we live in rn. it sucks but i can't get mad at them for it

[just-some-random-blogger]

I never stop day dreaming, and I fundamentally live in my head, my imagination has never melded into my reality. I know what is real and not.

Are you me? Yes yes yes, yes to every word you said. Yes to day dreaming. One should never blur the reality they are living in, I agree. But I think most of us are just exhausted living beings trying to navigate through shitty lives, and we should allow ourselves to seek comfort in that little safe space in our head to heal after mentally exhausting ourselves during the day.

I think, when you love a fictional character, they are with you. Their life only ever exists through those who know of them. Again, it should never be scary though. ):

This almost made me cry. I love every single one of my fictional characters. Living in this shitty world sucks, I need my fictional character stay by my side. Everyone could use some healthy amount of escapism, and I personally don’t like some else tell me what I should do, they don’t know me, maybe they should restrain themselves from casually giving me advice. However I understand what that anon meant, if they feel like it’s become a serious issue for them, they should seek help and cut back their time spending on the site. Moderation is key.

HI NONNIE. HAHAHAHAH the hive mind is real HAHAHAH. you are me, i am you, we are one.

i was excited to see a response to that post cos i thought you were the anon i replied to. alas it appears you are not. but that's fine. that's great! we're now having a dialogue on the interwebs, just as the greeks intended 😌

Very truly i say we really are just exhausted zombies tryna navigate this unfortunately post-apocalyptic reality. I wanted to quote this Argentine writer that I learned about in high school. I think his name was Jorge Luis Borges, but askfg;aksgf I can't say for sure cause I don't remember him nor the essay. I do remember a striking part of the essay though that uses hemoglobin as an analogy... or was it cancer T_T I EVEN PULLED UP MY OLD LIT BOOK FOR THIS BUT I THINK MY LIT TEACHER DISCUSSED THAT AS ADDITIONAL MATERIAL AND AALSFHASFLAHSF. the point is, that essay talks about how fiction is important because it's like the life behind the eyes of a dead city ya know....

ok tbh i dont remember that shit enough to quote it BUT IN A VIDEO IN ANOTHER LIT CLASS I HAD MORE RECENTLY IN COLLEGE, it was talked about how fiction is important because we can navigate a lot of different and complex things within the safety of the pages it is bound upon. i couldn't find the video T_T and i know this isn't explicitly said or how its explained, but its like we can witness a cold blooded murder and perhaps feel for the perpetrator more than the victim, due to the circumstances presented and the perspective we're shown. it's not to say in any way shape or form that murder is OK, but again, that realm was explored in a way that didn't actually harm anyone.

i hope i'm making sense and this isn't just extremely macabre.

I used to not understand the fun of reading when i was a kid, i used to think my classmates that liked reading were faking it (cos i was). reading = studying and school SUCKS/IS BORING/ETC but then i discovered ✨fiction✨ and more importantly ✨fan fiction✨ and now i will die on the hill that is: everyone in the whole entire world loves to read it's just a matter of finding content they like.

anyway the part where you said you don't like being told what to do HAHAHAHH you like me FR FR HAHAH. the inner childish gremlin in me reacted first to that message with 'LOL' 'ITS NOT THAT DEEP' 'DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO' 'WATCH ME DO IT ANYWAY' but i thank God everyday that my childish gremlin mind is not the pilot of my brain cos that would be so embarrassing. imagine being an internet troll 💀💀💀. for such a long time, i wanted to be one of those really sharp tongued, quick witted people on the internet that would give dry responses cos it's cool. i cannot for the life of me find it in me to contribute to that though because in my heart of hearts, i don't believe people are mean and i especially dont think anyone will come out of their way to my inbox just to be mean to me. i am glad to say it's not happened, nor will it ever 😌😌. huzzah, cynicism has not made me a stale cinnamon roll yet.

moderation is definitely important, but if you don't know how to gauge yourself and you are in genuine need of help, that won't do much, i think. yes reading is therapeutic but it is not replacement for the guidance of someone who has spent years studying how to help people in that manner. sometimes all it takes is just guidance of someone out there who cares. <3

needless to say i am surprised someone who wasn't that nonnie read my answer, which further just proves my point that someone cares. <3

....omg nonnie i think you love me 😍😍😍😍😍😍

cheers to going against the grain, lovie

xxx

[crispycreativestudio]

Meet Matias Vidala, AKA Gloria Borealis

Creative Director Kylan Coats’ creation of Matias Vidala was inspired by a combination of several people and situations, including a bombastic neighbor and friend, a couple of both new and experienced drag queens, and the struggle of aspiring actors in Los Angeles. “From the beginning I wanted to have a drag queen crew member in some form or fashion. Dressing in drag is such a quintessentially queer and powerful act. And it fits into the space opera genre so well (see drag-adjacent Ruby Rhod in the Fifth Element)!” says Kylan.

“Drag queens tend to have big personalities both on and off-stage so they’re a perfect foil for more subdued crew members like Aylah or Truly. With drag there’s also a bit of sketchiness always on the periphery; the same that accompanies most subversively creative endeavors. So imagining a drag queen on the run was a fairly easy idea. As with most of our characters, we try to subvert people’s expectations on what they would be good at. Anyone who’s been to drag shows can testify to how physically strenuous the performances can be. Just like everyone else, queens come in many shapes and the idea of a big beefy queen for our Muscle skill was quite compelling.”

Kylan’s initial inspiration for Matias is a “former neighbor and friend who has such a wonderful personality. He’s a beefy gay man who came out later in life, his deep voice is husky from a long history of smoking and flavored by a sometimes thick Argentine accent.” “The first time I met him he towered over me dressed as Frida Kahlo at a Halloween party. While that was as close as he ever came to drag, when I was coming up with crew members, he was at the top of my mind for someone I’d want onboard.”

“For the real-life drag queens, one of them is a wonderful person who actually performed at my wedding,” says Kylan. “In the time before the wedding, he’d mention how he felt he was getting too old to compete with the younger queens (he was just a few years older than myself). The amount of energy and drive to keep performing and creating night-after-night was definitely intimidating. It lined up, to a lesser degree, with stories I’d heard from many small-time and aspiring actors in Los Angeles.”

But just who is Matias Vidala? A 44-year-old male performer/former drag queen, Matias Vidala is larger than life, both in his broad stature, and his vivacious personality. A born performer, Matias has always struggled to strike the perfect balance between his bulky, barrel-chested outer appearance and his delicate inner diva. Following a short-lived career as the unique “Gloria Borealis”, his pyrotechnic drag persona which involved third degree burns and the odd audience member, Matias may or may not be on the run and/or doing a revival tour of his fiery show. Kind, encouraging, but with absolutely no room in his big heart for criticism of a performance, Matias is quick to anger and even quicker to tears, he’s the epitome of “all bark, no bite”. Life is a show for Matias Vidala, and this big queen is the star. There’s no point debating that with him, trust us.

If you are interested in an LGBTQ+ spaceship management narrative game with inclusivity as a foundation, from a diverse development team then please do go and wishlist A Long Journey to an Uncertain End here: https://bit.ly/3V1gSag

[writingwithcolor]

Argentine trans man with controlling parents; can I code them as Jewish?

@rcsordinaryworld asked:

The main character of a comic is an Argentine trans guy named Levi who ended up being somewhat Jewish coded. I’ve been debating whether to make it explicit, and I’m a little worried about his parents in particular. Part of his story is that he comes from an affluent family, and that his parents are somewhat toxic if not abusive. They’re funding college + transition for him, but on the condition he does what they want him to do. While he himself is a fairly good person, I’m worried about his mother perpetuating antisemitic tropes because she’s pretty manipulative and overbearing and finances are tied into it. Most of my characters are queer with bad parents, but I was wondering how I could handle his backstory respectfully if I did commit to making him Jewish?

If you are Jewish, disregard this part, because you are allowed to write your own experiences: If you’re writing us from the outside what is your motivation for making him Jewish in the first place? Because, yeah, I understand where you’re coming from that this might be messy. The experiences of a Jewish trans man with an unpleasant mother might be something highly specific that even a gentile trans man author with an unpleasant mother wouldn’t be able to capture accurately, or without accidentally stepping into stereotypes.

I understand that writing about queer characters with bad parents puts you in a bind vis a vis marginalized ethnic groups, because it’s tricky to write that setup from the outside of the group without accidentally sounding like a critique of the marginalized group as a whole. (Of course one way to do that is have lots of members of the group counteract the bad parents by treating the queer characters better.)

So yes, I would hesitate before making a character with a manipulative, overbearing, financially abusive mom Jewish if writing from the outside. There’s no reason that plot can’t be written about a gentile, and that way transmasculine Jewish readers won’t feel torn between the affirming validation of your character’s journey and feeling unwelcome and unsure about the portrayal of the mom. (Disclosure: I am not trans, so if you are trans and Jewish please weigh in on the notes.)

If he needs to be Jewish -- can they be bad parents in another way? Like completely preoccupied, or play favorites with a different kid, or something?

  - Shira

While I see Shira’s point, I would like to say that this:

>>Most of my characters are queer with bad parents

makes a big difference to me. If I had to pick the Number One Thing to communicate when writing bad Jewish characters, I would probably say make sure it’s clear that they’re not bad because they’re darn Jews. The fact that most of your non-Jewish characters are in the same boat with their own parents, achieves that.

The specifics of this character’s bad traits, using money to control and manipulate, are a little problematic. In my opinion, the money-grabbing and string-pulling tropes are just about avoided, purely because the only victim of the financial abuse is also Jewish. Usually, the stereotype is that we’re conspiring to benefit Jews at the expense of everyone else.

For this reason, you might be able to work with this story if you emphasise the son’s Jewish identity and highlight his positive experiences and personality traits associated with his Jewishness. If that involves finding a community with other Jewish people where he can be safe from the abuse, even better.

It would also help to make some of the other bad parents equally wealthy. I’m starting to see more examples in fiction of Jewishness being used as a synonym or shorthand for privilege, and I’m a little worried this is becoming a modern version of the money-grabbing trope. Diluting this association by having non-Jewish wealthy families would be helpful.

Even with these things in place, not all Jewish readers will agree that the stereotypes have been averted. In particular, I think Shira made an excellent point (which I don’t really feel qualified to expand on) about transmasculine Jewish readers. People in this group may not often get to see people like them in stories, so I don’t know how it would feel for that to be in any way tarnished with even a slight stereotype. Coming back to the fact that most of your characters are queer with bad parents, how interchangeable are their circumstances? Can you simply swap this character arc with someone else’s to avoid the uncomfortableness?

-  Shoshi

Though Shira and Shoshi covered things nicely, I'll weigh in briefly as the resident trans/nonbinary Jewish person. 

Here are the issues I see at a glance: 

A Jewish mother who is manipulative, toxic, abusive, and uses money to get her way

A Jewish man who is cowed by his mother, and vulnerable to financial coercion

An affluent Jewish family who uses their money to control

Now, as you suspected, having an overbearing, manipulative Jewish mother is feeding into a trope that causes constant pain for Jewish women. The idea that Jewish women are shrill, demanding, and unconcerned with the lives, and happiness of others around them is tossed around, even by some in the Jewish community. It's damaging, and also leaves Jewish women vulnerable. I think you could offset the damage by also including Jewish women, and especially maternal figures who are very clearly shown to not be overbearing, and to be generous (or at least not dictatorial ) with their money. 

Your character himself is also a concern for me, and one of the reasons I decided to give input, despite Shira and Shoshi covering things very well already. The trope of the domineering Jewish woman is incredibly prevalent, and beside it you will often find the trope of the weak, nebbish of a Jewish man. The idea is that our men are ineffectual, easily cowed, wimpy. In short, the nebbishy Jewish man, written into so much media, is a reflection of the idea that our men are not really men, and how much harder does that stereotype hit, when it's being applied to a Jewish trans man? There is a danger here, when you show your character (who has his own reasons to play along, transitioning socially, or medically can have astronomical attendant costs) bowing to pressures from his family, especially his mother, you are unintentionally reinforcing that negative image of Jewish men, and of trans men. 

Finally, the stereotypes of Jewish men, and women, are both combined with the overarching theme I'm seeing here: they have money, and they use it to get what they want, no matter the harm. Now, some people do this, of those people some are parents, inevitably some of those parents are Jewish, but this falls right in line with a third, very dangerous conception of Jewish people: that we all have money, and we use it for harm. 

So, like Shira I do wonder what made you want to make this character Jewish. Did you decide arbitrarily, and build the overbearing mother, the money, and the capitulating character himself after that, or did you have those things first, and decide he must be Jewish later? I feel this is a character, and a backstory that can be written, but not without putting in a fair bit of work, and examining your own logic is a part of that. In your writing you will need to show other Jewish people who are not rich, some who are and are not using that money to control. Showing mothers (and maternal figures) who listen, and are gentle, loving, sweet even. Showing Jewish men who are thoughtful, but know their own minds, and are willing to stand up for themselves, and others. It's possible, but certainly will expand your word count, and increase the time spent double-checking your work for these biases, and tropes. If you want to go ahead be ready, and be determined, it's a lot of work.

- Dierdra

[rookieforlife]

I was able to bypass it by clicking on the reader view. Here it is.

Think 9% Inflation Is Bad? Try 90%.

With the world grappling with rising prices, a tour through Argentina reveals that years of inflation can give rise to a truly bizarre economy.

BUENOS AIRES — Eduardo Rabuffetti is an Argentine who has been to the United States once, his 1999 honeymoon in Miami. Yet he probably knows the $100 bill better than most Americans.

He says he can pick out a counterfeit by touch. He can tell you exactly what $100,000 looks like. (Ten half-inch stacks, small enough to hold in one hand.) And on numerous occasions, he has walked down the streets of Buenos Aires with tens of thousands of U.S. dollars tucked into his jacket.

That is because Mr. Rabuffetti, a property developer who has built two office towers and a house here, bought the land for each of those buildings in $100 bills.

“Here, if you don’t actually see the money, nobody signs anything,” he said. “After the number of crises we’ve been through, let’s just say you get used to it.”

It is not just Mr. Rabuffetti. Nearly every big purchase in Argentina — land, houses, cars, expensive art — is done in tall stacks of U.S. currency. To save up, Argentines stuff bundles of American bills into old clothes, beneath floor boards and in bombproof safe deposit boxes past nine locked gates and five stories beneath the ground.

Argentines hold so much U.S. currency — experts believe perhaps more than anywhere outside the United States — sometimes it gets thrown away by mistake. Last month, passers-by found tens of thousands of dollars blowing around at an Argentine dump.

The dollar is king in Argentina because the Argentine peso is disintegrating in value, particularly over the past month. One year ago, about 180 pesos could buy $1 on the widely used black market. Now it takes 298 pesos to buy a buck. With the peso plummeting, prices are soaring to keep up. Many economists expect inflation here, already at 64 percent this year, to hit 90 percent by December.

It is one of the country’s worst economic crises in decades, and that is saying something for Argentina.

As countries across the world try to cope with rising prices, there is perhaps no major economy that understands how to live with inflation better than Argentina.

The country has struggled with rapidly rising prices for much of the past 50 years. During a chaotic stretch in the late 1980s, inflation hit a nearly unbelievable 3,000 percent and residents rushed to snatch up groceries before clerks with price guns could make their rounds. Now high inflation is back, exceeding 30 percent every year since 2018.

To understand how Argentines cope, we spent two weeks in and around Buenos Aires, talking to economists, politicians, farmers, restaurateurs, realtors, barbers, taxi drivers, money changers, street performers, street vendors and the unemployed.

The economy is not always the best conversation starter, but in Argentina, it animated just about everyone, eliciting curses, deep sighs and informed opinions about monetary policy. One woman happily showed off her hiding spot for a wad of U.S. dollars (an old ski jacket), another explained how she stuffed cash into her bra to buy a condo, and a Venezuelan waitress wondered whether she had immigrated to the right country.

One thing became strikingly clear: Argentines have developed a highly unusual relationship with their money.

They spend their pesos as quickly as they get them. They buy everything from TVs to potato peelers in installments. They don’t trust banks. They hardly use credit. And after years of constant price hikes, they are left with little idea of how much things should cost.

Argentina shows that people will find a way to adapt to years of high inflation, living in an economy that is impossible to fathom almost anywhere else in the world. Life is especially manageable for those with the means to make the upside-down system work. But all those striking workarounds mean that few who have held political power during years of economic distress have found themselves paying a real price.

“We ask ourselves the same thing: How is society allowing these things to happen?” said Juan Piantoni, the head of Ingot, a safe-deposit-box company where business is booming as Argentines pay to stash their cash. “At this moment, I think we’re on the eve of a situation that could lead to a major crisis,” he added. “No one has lit the fuse yet. But the day that happens, we’ll see what we’re up against.”

So far, things have remained largely calm. Wages for many jobs are rising at nearly 50 percent a year. Landlords can raise rents at similar rates. And millions of Argentines use the black market to evade government restrictions on buying U.S. dollars.

The result is that in the wealthier areas of Argentina’s capital, construction continues apace and restaurants and bars are packed. The next dinner reservation for two at Anchoita, one of the city’s hippest restaurants, is in January 2023.

In poorer neighborhoods, people collect scrap cardboard to sell, pool their money for food and swap used goods to avoid the peso altogether. Argentina’s poor typically don’t have jobs with automatic wage increases, and they certainly don’t have extra cash to buy U.S. dollars. That means they are left making few pesos while everything around them gets much, much more expensive. About 37 percent of Argentines now live in poverty, up from 30 percent in 2016.

On July 2, Argentina’s economic minister resigned. Over the next 26 days, the peso’s value dropped 26 percent. Then President Alberto Fernandez fired the new economic minister. It was the 21st time that an Argentine economic minister lasted two months or less.

Argentina’s recent bout with hyperinflation is linked to the same things that have driven up prices worldwide, including the war in Ukraine, supply-chain constraints and big increases in public spending.

But many economists believe Argentina’s inflation is also self-inflicted. In short, the country spends far more than it takes in to fund free or deeply subsidized health care, universities, energy and public transportation. To make up for the shortfall, it prints more pesos.

The International Monetary Fund, which is owed $44 billion from Argentina, has asked the government to cut its deficit and pass stricter monetary policies. On Wednesday, the new minister, Sergio Massa, made one of the most significant steps in years when he pledged that Argentina would stop printing pesos to fund its budget.

Yet many Argentines were skeptical that the country was ready to make the tough choices necessary.

“We might need the patient to have a heart attack before the family says, ‘Let’s do the surgery,’” said Hugo Alconada Mon, one of the country’s top investigative journalists and a best-selling author who spent almost the last of his savings recently on car repairs. “But how many people will end up in poverty because of that? How many people will leave the country?”

Abandoning price tags

Argentines are hoping the current moment does not spiral into a disaster like 2001, when there was a run on the banks.

That year, it became clear that foreign investors believed the Argentine peso was worth far less than the government’s official rate, and Argentines rushed to get their money before it was lost. Instead, the government halted withdrawals — and then gave them all a haircut, reducing everyone’s savings in a sudden devaluation. The president resigned and left the government offices in a helicopter to avoid the angry crowds in the regal square out front, Plaza de Mayo.

Two decades later, the angry crowds are still in Plaza de Mayo. Thousands of Argentines gathered there last month to protest the soaring inflation.

Ana Mabel was on the outskirts of the crowd, mixing peanuts and caramelized sugar in a metal vat. She was selling bags of candied peanuts for 200 pesos each, or about 70 cents; she had charged 150 pesos a week earlier. But that increase hardly kept up with her costs. Everything she needed had gotten pricier in just the past few weeks: the peanuts, the sugar, the oil, the gas tank, and the plastic baggies to package the treat. She has five children to support, and for the first time, she had taken on debt.

“Nothing regulates the prices,” she said, frustrated, slowly turning the peanuts in the vat. “The businessmen don’t want it. The government can’t. And that all falls on us.”

For Argentines, it is an old story. In 2017, prices had risen so much that Argentina doubled the size of its largest bank note to 1,000 pesos, then worth about $58 on the black market. Now that note is worth about $3.45 — about the price of a Big Mac. An iPhone can now cost more than 1 million pesos.

Many Argentines have lost their bearings on value. Menus are constantly changed. Taxi meters are frequently adjusted. And price tags are often outdated.

Oscar Benitez runs a meticulously organized hardware store the size of a large walk-in closet. He sells 80,000 different products, and he hardly knows the price of any of them.

That is because they change every few days, updated in a running list sent by his suppliers that he checks on his computer for every sale. He has largely abandoned price tags.

He shows a pair of scissors that the supplier says should now cost 600 pesos. “A month ago, it was worth 400 pesos,” he said, consulting his list. “A year ago, it was worth 120 pesos.”

He looked exasperated. “It’s sad. But for me, it was always like this,” he said. “If I wasn’t 51 years old, I’d be in the United States, which is what I’m now trying to make happen for my daughters.”

Prices are fluctuating so much that in recent weeks many companies have halted sales to see where prices settle, making it difficult to find certain items, including cooking oil and car parts. Some farmers are also holding onto their wheat and soybeans, betting prices will rise — and blunting the economic benefits of a commodity boom that should benefit an exporter like Argentina.

At a small shop in downtown Buenos Aires, Noelia Mendoza was selling her last stock of toilet paper. Her suppliers said they had no more, so she had raised her prices. A pack of four single-ply rolls now cost 290 pesos, or $1, up 50 percent from a month earlier. “There is going to be a shortage,” she said.

Her friend standing nearby, Carla Cejas, chimed in: “I never understood the bidet until now.”

A duffel bag full of 10,000 $100 bills

Ignacio Jauand, a 34-year-old publicist, buys everything he can in installments, including his bed, his clothes, a PlayStation 5 and a potato peeler.

It’s not that he can’t afford them. It’s that he’s betting the value of the peso will fall. If he’s right, his final payments cost significantly less. That bet, he said, has always paid off. “The last installment I paid for the TV or the fridge cost two or three McDonald’s combos,” he said.

“Buying stuff is how you beat inflation,” he added.

That is the mantra of Argentina. Pesos disintegrate in value, so you better spend them as quickly as you can.

People go out to eat or buy appliances, art or cars, while shop owners stock up on inventory, betting prices will only go up. “When I think of my savings in pesos, I say, ‘Let’s pay for a trip, let’s renew something in the house, let’s buy stuff,’” said Eduardo Levy Yeyati, an Argentine economist and visiting professor at Harvard University. “Otherwise I feel like I’m losing money every day by keeping it in the bank.”

Perhaps Argentines’ favorite things to buy? Dollars.

Argentina’s central bank estimates that Argentine households and nonfinancial firms hold more than $230 billion in foreign financial assets, mostly denominated in U.S. currency. Most of that money is held in international bank accounts, but some is also stashed in safes and hiding places across the country.

That dependence on the dollar is bad for the peso, so the government restricts Argentines from buying more than $200 in U.S. currency each month. For that amount, Argentines can use the official government exchange rate, which says each U.S. dollar is worth about 130 pesos.

But a different exchange rate — used for Western Union wires, certain corporate transactions, and the black market — values the peso at less than half that: Each dollar is now worth about 300 pesos. (Because this rate is a truer measure of the open market’s view of the peso, we used it to convert values in this article.)

In downtown Buenos Aires, men and women dubbed “arbolitos,” or little trees, stand on street corners hawking dollars. They lead buyers to so-called caves to change the money in private.

It’s all illegal, but police standing nearby don’t seem to mind. Many use the market themselves.

Juan, a money changer who delivers wads of cash on his motorbike, said three of his regular customers are police officers. Even so, he agreed to speak on the condition that only his first name be used.

Money changers and cave managers estimated the black market moves $3 million to $4 million a day. Those dollars underpin much of the economy here.

Yanina Arias, a Buenos Aires real-estate agent, said she has completed hundreds of deals over her 10-year career, but never one in pesos. Sellers often require “dollar bills without stains, without rips, and that are big-faced,” Ms. Arias said. “Small-faced bills are not accepted.”

The face in question is Benjamin Franklin’s. The black market generally offers 3 percent more for newer $100 notes with Mr. Franklin’s enlarged portrait because they are harder to counterfeit.

Seven Argentines described paying for properties in cash, but few were willing to allow their names to be printed because they were worried about being audited.

To head to the bank to close the deal, they described stuffing tens of thousands of dollars down their pants and into grocery bags full of produce. Ms. Arias said wealthier people have hired armored trucks.

A financial-services worker in Buenos Aires said that when she sold her family’s farm for $1 million a few years ago, the buyer handed her a duffel bag full of 10,000 $100 bills. Later, when she bought her apartment, she put $100,000 of the cash into the pockets of an oversized coat and hustled to the buyers’ home. The sellers, an older couple, insisted on counting each bill by hand.

After Adela Castillo and her husband lost their jobs during the pandemic — she was a caretaker and he worked in shipping — they took a big risk. They converted their home in one of Buenos Aires’s poorest neighborhoods into a shop selling cement, limestone, paint and plasterboard.

At first, it was paying off. The government was building new affordable housing in the neighborhood, and it became a big buyer. To keep up, she needed a forklift. And to buy one, she needed $15,000 in cash.

A bank would never make that kind of loan, but luckily, she had a family friend who had that much stashed away. “A huge favor,” she said. “Nobody lends you money like that.”

She bought the forklift. “It helped a ton,” she said. Then the value of the peso continued to plummet. “He wants me to pay back in dollars. He doesn’t want pesos,” she said. With each decline in the value of the peso, her debt has effectively grown bigger.

“It’s a screwed-up situation,” she said, standing outside her shop, limestone dust in her hair and down her fleece. She was not sure how she would pay it off. “We’re treading water,” she said. “We’re fighting.”

With the peso losing so much value, some poor Argentines are trying to avoid it altogether.

Silvina López, 37, was standing in the biting cold with her infant. She needed diapers but she was broke. After a stroke, Ms. López was blind in one eye and didn’t work, while her husband was a construction laborer when it was sunny. But his wages — about $7 a day — hadn’t increased while the prices did.

But here, next to a bus stop in the poor suburb of Lomas de Zamora, she didn’t need pesos. Instead, she had sacks of powdered milk, handouts from the government that she could trade in order to make sure her 1-month-old, Milagro, or Miracle in Spanish, had diapers.

Another woman had set up shop on the street corner to barter, and she traded Ms. López a 12-pack of diapers, two bags of sugar and a box of cookies for the powdered milk. Ms. López’s 8-year-old daughter, Mia, immediately tore into the cookies.

“My family, my siblings, they all come here,” she said. “They have lots of children, too.”

During the recession that accompanied the 2001 run on the banks, a half-million people were regularly meeting in so-called “trueque” clubs, or bartering exchanges, to swap goods without pesos. The clubs largely disintegrated over the years, but with inflation again soaring, they are making a comeback.

On a recent Sunday, nearly 100 people hustled among two dozen tables, swapping their wares: used clothes, cleaning supplies, homemade pizza dough, insecticide, fried quince pastries. To facilitate the trades, they used “créditos,” the club’s own currency, printed onto white paper.

Women clutched handfuls of the notes as they shopped at their neighbors’ tables. They all said they preferred the crédito to the peso.

At one point, an organizer who was selling Avon makeup, Karina Sanchez, paused the cumbia music to make an announcement: They were exchanging older, smaller denomination créditos for newer, larger ones. She showed much older notes worth one-half a crédito. Last year, they introduced a 1,000-crédito note.

Yes, Ms. Sanchez said, the crédito was experiencing inflation, too.

Natalie Alcoba contributed reporting from Buenos Aires.

Thank you thank you thank you for taking the time to do this!!! I appreciate it! 💌🙏🏽

[elbiotipo]

Memories from the Biopunk World

...

"Everything was closed up, everyone was closed in. SENA officers everywhere, the streets restricted for official business. And so on for years. But not the barrio's greenhouse. Every day, Marcos went to feed the pacúes, to check the aquaponics system was working as it should. With a smartphone app, he indentified every plant; the vegetables and the fruitsalad-vines, the irresistible aromatics and spices, and so many flowers that made life yet worth living. When he had time, he picked little pieces of leaves, flowers, even scales, and he scanned them on the old but reliable biosuite. He read the gene list, the biosystematic schemes, the colors of the enzymes and the dyzzing metabolic cycles, not yet understanding what they meant. One day, he did the same with a loose hair of his. Maybe he did because he thought that if a single scale of a pacú had all that, a human being would be too complex to even understand. He waited patiently for the scan to finish. And he was surprised to see he was almost the same as the rest."

...

"Ariel became the barrio's IT Guy. His father asked him to fix his exotic wood bioforge; he opened it up in a thousand parts, reprogramming, updating, cleaning, replacing the reactives. The local bioclub had old biosuites from the last century, of the RNArgentina programs. With a couple online tutorials and some low-cost reactives, he gave the machines a couple decades of life... and also the club. His friends brought their old biosuites and bioforges, stored in garages for years, and Ariel picked parts from one and rebuild another, giving tips on how to maintain them, even updating the enzymes with online designs. So his room became full of old machine parts, refrigerators piled upon each other, pipettes and half-used reactive flasks. He loved tinkering with machines, but thought little else about it, he didn't realize how many lives he changed. He was just the Local IT Guy and nothing else."

...

"Summer in Resistencia was always refreshing. From the plazas, gardens and parks, grew the great columns of the Nawe Epaq, the great living forest-tree that covered the city from end to end with its soft shade, a marvel of bioconstruction, admired by tourists from all over the world. Florencia knew it was forbidden, she knew it was dangerous, she knew her dad was going to kill her if he found out. But even so, she climbed the branches and the trunks. More than once she had to bribe her siblings with ice cream and family computer hours to leave her alone, to be able to climb from the column in her backyard, and count the birds that made their countless nests in the trees, the lizards and frogs that were slowly adapting to a near vertical life, the endless beautiful flowers from all species growing in the branches, the tree sculpturers creating their unique art, and spend long afternoons watching the City of Sculptures from the top, full of green above and below."

...

"Melanie was already used to wear hats and berets. Not as a homage to Che Guevara -well, maybe sometimes...- but from that winter she spent with her head shaved as she implanted her new ears. She liked winter, but that time was so annoying, and her ears never stopped twitching with the cold winds of Buenos Aires. Yes, she looked weird back then, so what? Her classmates laughed at her, at her ears, at her cat's tail, at the cute predator eyes, at her beret larger than her head. They said she was tricked by a fleeting fad, that she was going to regret it in a couple of years. But she never felt so free, so in control of her own look. She knew that was the important thing. So many things were impermanent and still infinitely important. Why not this? Life was too short to be enslaved to the invisible."

...

"The beach was only a short bus trip away, passing through colorful streets and markets with fruitsalad-vines. Marina had read few books set on places like this, now that she remembered. They all made poetry about the winter snow or the autuum leaves. Few, maybe none, talked about the soft breeze of the equatorial Atlantic, about Christmas dinners with ice-cream in a tropical summwe. And none of them, she was sure, not even the wildest authors of old, ever dreamt of the silver cord that connected the Heavens with the Earth, kissing the Atlantic Ocean, the ladder to the stars. That chain of lights that lighted up every day of her life, always in the background, even if she didn't notice. The pride of Brazil. The Santos-Dumont Space Elevator."

...

"The Argentine Sea was clearer than the Still River, but cold, bluegreen, and frankly a little hostile. Pancho didn't hate to go south to fish from time to time, after all, cornalitos were a delicacy for him. But it was uncomfortable. He felt the salt all over his body, the chilling currents from the ices of the south. The deafening sounds of the old fishing boats were no longer heard; maritime treaties had reduced them. And so, Pancho started to hear, in the cold, other things. Distant, melancholic songs, deeply personal, but so loud that a dolphin like him could not help but listen. Like a whisper with the power of thunder, he heard the secret chants of the southern right whales."

...

[caxsthetic]

Coming Home

Oikawa Tooru x F!Reader

Home is not something that you build. It was where you create memories. Either you find it in a place, or the embrace of someone.

Pt. 2 < Part 3

The squeaking sound of the shoes at the court could be heard even from the outside. It was around 22 degrees celcius right now, but sweats were already dripping down his figure. There will be a tournament in a few days, and not even once he spends a day without hours of practising.

“Hoi, Tooru!” The brunette was practising his serve when his teammates called out to him. He turned around to look at them as they sat on the bench, “Take a break, man! You will get injured if you keep doing that.” Injury, something that he always despised, but somehow he never lived without it.

“One more minute!” He shouted back. His teammates could only shake their heads, knowing for sure it wouldn’t take a minute for him to finally have a break. After five years struggling and living in this country, he finally achieved his dream to be on the top of the chain in the league.

It was a matter of time to fulfil his promise to Hinata anyway. He’s not the same man that’s crying after losing to Karasuno all those years ago, he’s no longer the same player who looked down to people anymore, he has changed, and it’s for the better. He feels invincible, ready to get as much experience that he could gather.

“Someone’s looking for you,” That stopped his movement for a second. It’s weird, he’s never close with anyone that could possibly come to his club. His leg immediately felt wobbly at one moment, thinking about maybe, maybe it was you. He put the volleyball in the basket and grabbed his towel.

Just the thought of you finding him excites the setter so much. His teammates were looking at him as he styled his hair, “You look excited.” A chuckle could be heard from his left, “Is it your lovers?”

Lovers, it was an unknown word in his life. You used to be his lovers, his significant others. He didn’t know anymore whether the thought of you is a blessing or a curse. Five years, he thought maybe being on the top of the chain could satisfy him. But these five years has been a torture for his heart, aching every time he remember about you.

He hoped that maybe someday he wouldn’t feel it again. The aching, the longing, the butterfly feeling. He didn’t want to love anyone in his life, so he didn’t have to feel any regret if he had to leave them. There’s a lot of women who actually want him to be wrapped around their fingers, either his heart or just his body. But every time someone wanted to taste him, he couldn’t think about anyone else except you, the one who always has his heart.

So it scared him a little, knowing there’s less than 10% possibilities that it was you who were waiting for him outside of the gymnasium right now. Even if you knew where he was, why would someone that he left broken wanted to see him. It just won’t add up no matter how many times he spun his brain.

He only answered his teammates with a smirk before walking up to the door. His thought was filled with you. He wondered if your hair became longer, or maybe how much you have changed, just like him. He closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh before finally opening up the door.

You are the most beautiful woman that he ever met. It’s not like you have a body like a greek goddess, or a voice as beautiful as sirens. But it fell on your personality, how caring you could be, the patience that you radiate by spending a lot of time with him. You were his everything, and it’s still the same even with five years without facing you.

So he was disappointed to see the woman turns out to be someone else, but not actually surprised by it. He chuckled bitterly when his eyes fell on the daughter of his landlord. From the start, he knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up. After all, you might be married right now with how successful you are, based on his best friend’s update.

“Do you need something?” The woman in front of him seems a little bit taken aback. He was too, shocked by the intonation that he emitted from his lips, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to be that harsh.” Her chuckled rang out to the air, it was heavenly, and she was so graceful with her long brown hair.

To anyone else, him and the woman would be a perfect couple. Apparently his landlord was quite fond of him, and they even asked if he’s interested in their daughter. But no matter how beautiful she is or how her warm eyes could melt everyone, at the end, she’s not you.

“Dad changes the lock for the fence, you might need this.” She grabbed his hand and put the key on his palm. The woman actually has a crush on him, always giddy at the sight of the brunette. She looked up and found a blank expression on his face, “Tooru?” He jolted, a little bit surprised. He didn’t even realise that his hand was being held by her.

“Yes?” She kept looking at his face, admiring him discreetly. He pulled his hand and pocketed the key, “And thank you for this, Lucia. Tell your fa-”

Then her next movement caught him off guard. She tiptoed to reach him and put her hand on his cheek, slamming her lips immediately on his. He widened his eyes, too shocked to move at first. But after three seconds, he immediately pushed her away. Guilt filled his eyes as he looked at the woman in front of him.

“W-What are you doing?” His voice cracked, making the woman take a step back, “WHY YOU DO THAT?!” He screamed with tears starting to appear in his brown orbs. He felt sick, his lips never touched by anyone since that one time he left you alone in your bed. It’s weird, it feels like he was cheating on you to someone else and the thought of you knowing it broke his heart, “Oh god, I just betray her.”

“I-I am sorry, Tooru.” Lucia didn’t know what she should do, it was frightening to see the man broke down in front of her, “I didn’t know that you-”

“Please, go.” He pleaded, “Please, let me just calm down by myself.” The woman nodded and came back home. Leaving him to sit on the concrete, leaning on the wall behind him. He was sure that you may be with someone else already, at least that’s what he wanted to believe. But he was afraid that you don’t, and him kissing someone else seems so wrong and it nag his heart. For now, he’s just glad that you wouldn’t see him like this. Looking so vulnerable.

What he didn’t know was the fact that your figure was standing there before, looking at how another woman tiptoed to kiss him.

You haven’t slept for three days in a row now. Everytime you fall asleep, you will drink more coffee and just revise some paperwork for your business. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do when you heard the news. Five years passed and now you finally knew where he was.

“God, Argentine?” You let out a long sigh, dropping the pen in your hand to clatter on your desk, “But why- Why didn’t he say anything?” The information has haunted your mind since then. Life used to be so simple back then, the only thought that you two have was just how you want to spend tomorrow with each other.

Everything was falling apart now. You thought you could just live and focus on your dream without the need of someone else in your life. It’s true, you don’t need someone else, but you need him. You never felt so alive when you met him, it’s like he brought joy by just barging in your life. So when he left, it felt like you had lost the will to live. Making you to just exist, but not actually living.

He left you, and he didn’t want to be found. And if you love someone, don’t you need to consider their choice? But you wanted to be selfish, to just book a plane and see it with your own eyes how he was right now. You needed to see him, to see his smile and maybe with someone who could be there for him. You just wanted him to be happy, nothing else matters.

So you did what you wanted to do. Opening up your cell phone, you searched for a plane ticket. It may look like a spur of the moment, but you know you couldn’t move on in your life if you didn’t see him. You may risk your heart at the process, but it might be worth it to just take another look at him, one last time.

You let out a long sigh when you see the notification in your phone, the payment has been accepted, and you will go to Argentina tomorrow afternoon. You stood up from your chair, walking to your bedroom and grabbing a box that you put under your bed. When you opened it up, you almost choked out.

Your fingers grazing at the Aobajohsai jacket that folded neatly in the box, something that you found on your washer. There was his cologne that you found rolling below your dresser in your old room. You sprayed the room with it, slowly wearing the jacket that engulfed your body with a familiar warm. The scent in your room brought you home, to a place that you never have since years ago.

You tucked yourself on your bed, enjoying the feeling of his jacket. It feels smooth and feathery. He’s not there, not for the past five years. But somehow with just his jacket wrapped around your body, and the smell of his cologne permeates through the air in your room. And for the first time in forever, you felt like you were home.

“You looked like you couldn’t sleep.” Oikawa yawned and rubbed his eyelids with his sleeve, “You are a mess, Tooru.” His teammates got a little bit worried with the setter. Even when he always practised non-stop every day, he never looked this tired before. So it made the whole team worried when he appeared this morning with eyebags in his eyes, hair got a little bit messy.

“Hm? I guess I am.” He didn’t deny it, he’s a mess right now. When he came to his apartment yesterday and faced the woman who kissed him, he couldn’t look at her in the eyes anymore, “I feel like shit.” The others chuckled to hear his remark. It’s the truth, the only thought in his mind was you.

For years, he never had the urge to call you or just inform you where he was. But since yesterday, he always got this nagging feeling that tells him to call you. He just needs to keep holding on, he already decided what is best for the two of you after all. He would blame himself if his plan was falling apart to nothingness.

He and his teammates needed to go to another country, hence the reason why he was sitting here, in the airport waiting for his plane. He couldn’t sleep at all last night. He was rolling on his bed to the right and left, pouting because he needed to sleep but he couldn’t. You were the one who could make him asleep within seconds. With your fingers grazing on his scalp, your body heat to be his personal heater, little kisses that you put on his face, it was the only thing that he needed for a perfect sleep.

“You should wash your face you know,” His captain suddenly voiced out, “We still have time, it’s still an hour before we need to board the plane.” Oikawa groaned, too lazy to get out from where he sit.

“Why should I? I will look the same anyway,” He pouted, resulting in the others chuckling at how childish he could be sometimes.

“Tooru, do it or I will ask the coach to put you on the bench instead,” That threat startled him. He was sure his captain was only joking, but he didn’t want to take any risk. After all, maybe he could grab some snacks to kill the time. He left his belongings to his teammates, only brought his wallet and his cell phone.

The airport was crowded today, it was around 2 pm right now. The sun poured their light through the window, covering the tile with the orange hue. It was beautiful and warm. Airport always feels nostalgic for him. It was the place where he met his best friend the last time, and it was the place that reminded him that he left his home for good.

His long legs brought him to the mini market, where he found newly baked milk bread on the food warmer. He licked his lips, already drooling over his favourite food since childhood. He bought four of them and left the market with a happy face. Couldn’t wait, he opened up one of the breads and ate it immediately.

The milk bread was good for something that you could find in the airport, and the fact that it’s warm made the bread taste a lot better. He suddenly remembered how you used to bake him a milk bread. The first try was a failure, since the bread only tasted like flour. But you kept trying until you successfully baked the most delicious milk bread that he ever tasted.

“Argh, I really need to stop relating everything with-” He choked out all of a sudden, eyes trailed to a familiar white and turqoise colour. It was the same colour of his old uniform from high school. It was the colour of the VBC jacket, wrapped carefully around someone’s waist.

He lost his jacket a long time ago, so the sight of it brought amicable feelings to his heart. The person who wore the jacket was now ready to aboard since they were now queuing up to show their ticket. He run, to the said person, calling them out without shame,

“You! You with the Aobajohsai jacket!” He rushed to the said person, but they didn’t seem to hear him, “Wait, please!” He walked past his teammates who looked at him running to catch someone who he didn’t even know. As he grew closer and closer, he felt like he was running back home.

The said person was a she. Her hair swayed by the wind from the air conditioner above her, she looks so small with the oversize jacket that was loosely wrapped around her waist. He wondered if the jacket belongs to her boyfriend, that must be a cute reason to wear that.

But then she moved the strain of hair that was blocking her face, causing him to stop when he was now only five feet apart from the said person. It’s like the air was gone from his body, seeing the person that always lingered on his mind every single day.

He didn’t have any preparation to see you standing there, looking as lovely as ever.

After watching him happy with someone else, you don’t know either you should be happy for him or just bawling your eyes out. The latter seems to win as you sobbed without a break last night. It was painful to see him have someone who he called home, and here you were still hanging on the tight rope as you couldn’t find someone else that could replace him in your life.

It was tragic, loving someone who was long gone. You lost him that time when he decided to leave, but hope always kept you close to him. Your mind wandered to the one person that you love so much that you imagine him standing not far from you right now. It’s scary how mind works,

“(Y/n)?” You widened your eyes when the hallucination of him emitted a sound from his lips, “W-What are you doing here?”

That was when you knew that the man beside you was real. Oikawa Tooru, stood there with the same widened eyes on his face. You didn’t expect to see him standing tall right on your side. You walk out from the queue, facing the man that still has your heart no matter where you go.

The two of you only stared at each other, didn’t know what to say at the moment. You wanted to say something, maybe get angry at him for leaving without notice. But it’s like your voice trapped inside your throat. Instead, you remember the event from yesterday, where you found him in the arms of another.

“I-I have a business meeting here,” You lied as you remembered the question he asked you before, “Life has been good?” You put on a facade, smiling like seeing him didn’t bring the biggest agony that you ever felt in your life. But he knew you like the back of his hand, he knew every little thing about you.

“Yeah, I think.” He answered sheepishly, eyes glossy to see you standing right in front of him, “I hear from Iwa-chan that your business grew so wide!” There it is, the smile that you miss so much, “I know I am no one now, but I am so proud with your achievement!”

You could only stare at him, noting how his soft brown hair cutted a little bit shorter, remembering how he smiled so freely that it even lifted all of your burden everytime you saw it. He was the only person that you ever loved, and even after seeing him happy, you didn’t know that you ever could erase the love that you had for him.

Oikawa opened up his eyes after he smiled at you, frantic when he saw tears were trailing on your cheek. He wanted to wipe it away, kill himself to ever leave you. He wanted to coo at you and just pulled your body on his embrace. Calming you down, just like what you always do to him.

“You are…” Your hand swung to his chest, “So cruel!” He bit his lip, letting you hit him on the chest, “Trashykawa! Shittykawa! Crappykawa!” You closed your eyes as tears were already blurring your sight. Both of your hands keep hitting on his body. You didn’t even know either you did it out of anger, or you just poured all of your sadness that you held for five years.

Oikawa didn’t move his body, and he didn’t stop you from letting out all of your feelings through physical contact. He deserves it, for leaving you alone all of those years. He didn’t care that the other passengers looked at him like he was some kind of monster. Well, he really is a monster.

“I am sorry that I left you without warning, I-”

“I DONT’T CARE!” You screamed at him, “I don’t care that you left me, I don’t care that you left without giving me a warning.” It broke his heart to see you cry, and he was the one who caused all of this, “But I care about your goddamn reason!”

It was the one thing that haunted you for these past years. Waking up every morning wondering the cause of his leaving. If only he told you the reason why, you would know where you should put yourself. He left you with uncertainty every single day, making you think about the right path. You don’t know if you should move on or keep your feelings intact.

It’s not about how he left you all of a sudden. But it was all about the wide possibilities behind his disappearance. And it made you live like you were standing on the tightrope, that any kind of choice you made will risk your life forever. You could wake up with the thought of him leaving you for someone else, and you will sleep with the thought of him dying without wanting you to know.

And you have been living like that since the day he left.

After cursing at him and insulting him with the nickname that you were familiar with, you suddenly feel drained. Your body fell to his, and he caught you in his arms immediately. His large fingers stroked your hair and moved the strand that was falling on your face carefully. After all, it’s been years since the last time he saw you. And here you were standing so fragile in his embrace.

“Why did you leave me?” Your voice sounded hoarse, hands gripping on his shirt like your life depends on it, “Please, I am begging you. Please answer my question.” For maybe the last time, you tried to absorb the warmth once again. You were jealous with someone who was now always in his embrace. To feel the warmth that he radiated with just a simple gesture.

“I-If I said it,” Here it is, the answer that you have been waiting for, “You will leave all of your life behind.” It’s like your heart has been struck by lightning. After all this time, thinking about the worse scenario for the reason behind his action, this one never crossed your mind. Not even once.

“What?” You pulled yourself away from his embrace, staring at his face to see any kind of sign that will tell you about the truth. But you found nothing, and now it really dawned on you that he was saying the truth, “W-What do you mean by that?” Oikawa pulling his own hair, stressed because he spilled something that he never wanted you to know.

“Exactly how it sounds,” He crouched down on the ground and hiding his face on his palm, still thinking about the outcome if he told you everything, “If I told you that I am going to Argentina, you will leave all of your dreams behind and all of the plan that you build since a long time ago.” You clenched your fist, still processing how his mind works.

“You don’t know about that.” You bit your lips, trying not to cry in front of him again, “You couldn’t possibly know that I will follow you.” And that statement was enough to make him chuckle bitterly.

“Oh?” He looked up at you, “If I told you now that I want you to be here with me, what would you say?” You know your plan to make him feel guilty was backfired once he asked you that question. You opened up your lips, wanting to tell him that you will stay in Japan, forget about him forever.

But that was all a lie, and Oikawa noticed that with just one look at your face.

“Just what I thought,” It was painful, knowing the reason was for your own good. You wish you could hate him. It would be better if his reason was because he didn’t love you anymore, but the truth, his reason was circling around you, “You deserve someone better than me, someone that will always be there with you every step of your way, (Y/n).” He stood up, clenching his fist to hold the urge to pull you on his embrace once again, “You didn’t deserve to be with someone who put you less than number one on their priority list. Because you deserve the love and attention that this world could offer to you.”

There he goes, the insecurity that always crept inside his mind. The same pit of hell that he was falling to since his childhood time. The feeling of not being good enough. Either it’s for something that he loves, volleyball, or someone that he loves, you. Hearing that, you took one step forward, holding his cheek with one of your palms.

“You are not the one who should be the judge of that.” He looked at your face, sensing the same love radiated from your eyes, “It was my choice to have you as my boyfriend, it was the path that I want to walk into, it was where I belong to, with you.” He couldn’t hold it anymore, the tears that he tried so hard to hide, “And it’s my decision to keep you in my life, Tooru. It’s what I choose for the rest of my life, loving you.”

Now he was the one who broke down, gasping for air because of the guilt to put you in a disastrous life for five years. Surviving alone in this world while a half of your heart was taken from you. He let himself fall into his own insecurity. He was being selfish, not even trying to communicate his thoughts with you. The result? Two broken hearted people that were struggling with their own demons for the last five years.

“How come you could love me after I left you like that?” He really questioned your heart, because he still knew that he didn’t deserve to feel your unconditional love, “For goodness sake, I LEFT YOU WITHOUT SAYING ANYTHING!”

“I don’t know, Tooru.” You really didn’t know the reason why, “What I know is that I couldn’t stop loving you. Not even a second,” You lead him to the nearest bench, letting his head fall on your shoulders, “Even if you didn’t love me anymore, it’s not in my dictionary to ever stop loving you.” He jolted when he heard the statement that was rolling from your mouth.

“W-Who said I didn’t love you anymore?” You too were taken aback by his question,

“T-Then, who did you kiss yesterday outside of the gymnasium?” He widened his eyes. You were there, you were there to see him yesterday. He cursed the fate that didn’t bring the two of you together faster. So you were here right now to see him, not because any other reason, not even for a business meeting.

“Goodness,” He chuckled bitterly, “It was Lucia, my landlord’s daughter, s-she has a crush on me, I think?” One of his hands grasped yours, “But the only one who was always in my mind was you, only you.” You were skeptical at first, you didn’t know how much someone could change within the span of years, “You could ask all of my teammates. Ask them who is the woman in my phone wallpaper, ask them who I always mention every time I get drunk.” His voice was desperate, trying to assure you that you were the only woman who ever lived in his heart.

You jolted when you heard the reminder call for your flight, and he realised it immediately when you gripped his hand tighter. He only give you a faint smile, putting his lips on the back of your hand,

“W-What are we now, Tooru?” You need that, you need one absolute answer before you are back to reality, “I couldn’t live with uncertainty haunting the back of my mind again, I could be going insane, Tooru. I-”

“I am yours, I always be yours.” He shushed you with a little kiss on your forehead, “Remember that, don’t leave anything behind. Keep looking forward, okay?” You sobbed at this. It’s not enough, his words were so vague that you didn’t know how to process it, “I will be there, so keep looking forward.” He leaned down a little, trailing his lips to yours slowly.

That one gesture was enough to make you feel alive.

It was soft and filled you with energy. Both of you closed your eyes and shut everything outside. The kiss was something that you couldn’t quite put what’s the meaning of it. But you know it reassures you that everything would be okay from now on. That everything will unfold beautifully in time. He let go of the kiss and put his lips on your forehead one last time.

“You should go home now.” His voice was sweet and filled with love, “Remember to always look forward.”

“But, Tooru, my home is-”

“I know, my home is when I am with you too.” You chuckled at this, the two of you could still read each other’s mind even after all this time, “Then go back to Japan, I will call Iwa-chan to pick you up later. He will be happy knowing our reunion.” You still wanted to say a lot of things to him, but the last call for your flight interrupted it, “Go, my queen. I will be there in your life someday.”

You bit your lips, trying to hold your tears to slip again. So you stood up, him following your movement. He leaned down and kissed you on your cheek before pushing you to the gate. You giggled with how childish he still is sometimes, one of his traits that wouldn’t change by time. He waited for you as you showed your plane ticket to the officer.

You stole a glance towards him, a smile appeared on your face, “I just need to look forward, right?” He nodded,

“Yeah, and I’ll be there.” He smiled at you, making you let out a happy tear before turning your head to your plane who will bring you back to your hometown. The brunette stood still, the smile never left his face even when your figure was already out of his sight.

There’s a sound of footsteps behind him, he didn’t have to turn his head to see who they were. His captain stood beside him, following his gaze to the now empty hallway. The genuine smile that plastered on his face was the only sign he needed.

“So, that’s her huh?” The older man voiced his interest, “You didn’t tell her that this tournament is your last game with us?” Oikawa chuckled and only shook his head at this.

“Hm, no need.” The statement caught the captain off guard. The brunette just turned around and grabbed his bag from his teammate’s hand.

“Why? Don’t you fear that she might find someone in the meantime?” His captain was just concerned, but at the same time questioned the setter’s intention.

Oikawa just smiled, remembering that you promised you would only look forward. You have been in love with him for five years even when you live with uncertainty on every single step that you took. His eyes emitted confidence at the thought of you, something that he finally felt again.

“I am not afraid,” His mind kept lingering on yours, the one where he will come back to on any journey that he passed, “She will wait for me, and I’ll be there with her again.”

And one day, the two souls who were so long apart will be coming back home to each other, and both of them were certain of it.

[joezworld]

About the Falklands War thing: when you say the entire US Navy steamed down to the Falklands after Montana got murdered, does that include museum ships like Constitution, Constellation, Olympia, or Texas; and do former USN ships that were sold or loaned to Argentina like Phoenix and Heermann revolt against the Argentines?

Another great question.

To say that the US had "museum ships" is not entirely accurate.

Most combat vessels do not and have never had the patience required to be docked for years on end while the general public crawls all over them. Generally the only ones who do are vessels that know they can no longer go on in day-to-day sailing life. Most of the very early 19th century monitors fall into this role, as their low freeboard keeps them trapped within calm ports or inland waterways, but few other ships can stand such idleness.

USS Constitution and USS Constellation are noted exceptions because sailing ships aren't sentient. It's unclear exactly where the line is drawn, but the first sentient machines came about in the early 1800s with the invention of Trevethick's Puffing Devil steam carriage. It's generally assumed that some sort of mechanized propulsion is required for sentience, meaning that ships like USCGC Eagle and the Italian Training Ship Amerigo Vespucci, both of whom have auxiliary diesel propulsion systems, are sentient, while ships like Constitution and Constellation are decidedly not.

Furthermore, following the second world war, a lot of the US Navy was basically Not All Right, from a mental health point of view. The Atlantic fleet spent over three years dodging U-Boats, and developed a rather healthy fear of open water as a result, while the Imperial Japanese Navy fought the Pacific Fleet with the intensity of trench warfare - every inch of water they gave up until the Battle of The Phillipine Sea was paid for in Allied lives. The Kamikaze attacks that occurred in the later part of the war were a startlingly effective psychological warfare method as well, and most ships that weren't afraid of the IJN itself soon began jumping at the sound of unfamiliar aircraft.

What this all means is that when the US Navy began retiring ships at the end of the war, nobody really wanted to tie up at some dockside and tell stories of how they almost died - they wanted a beer and a hug, and most ships just sort of dispersed themselves into the seven seas.

It's only been very recently - probably since the early 90's - that ships have felt comfortable enough to actually talk about things like that and do "museum stuff", mainly because of the many mental health initiatives that Montana had fought tooth and nail to get set up during most of his life.

In the 80's when the Falklands happened though, this hadn’t happened yet, and so everyone who could go down to kick some ass, did.

As for your other question, Phoenix and Heerman had both taken the express route to getting really fucked up mentally, with Heerman taking part in the Battle off Samar, and notably being the only surviving destroyer of his task force. Phoenix had started the war in Pearl Harbor, and had come very close to getting blown up by the Japanese, before taking part in a lot of tense shore support work with the Australians, and then charging headlong into the end of the war in the Battle of Leyete Gulf.

Neither ship was entirely "all there" after the war, and when the Argentinians came looking for suitable vessels to update their Navy in the late 40's, they both jumped on the opportunity to go Somewhere Else.

Heerman definitely took to Argentina a lot more than Phoenix did, and actually believed a lot of the stuff that Galtieri was saying in the 80s. Phoenix didn't, and he was the one who called Montana to come down and save him, thus forcing the US' involvement in the war.

Unfortunately not all things go well. Phoenix tried to do as little as possible and maybe surrender peacefully, but the Royal Navy, who was operating under the decree of "shoot anything that speaks Spanish" after the sinking of Atlantic Conveyor, put two torpedos into him and then plastered the results all over the tabloids - not their finest hour.

Nobody knows what happened to Heerman. The US kept detailed logs of who blew up what, and the British knew what the ships of the Argentinian Navy looked like, so both navies would have known if they'd sunk him, and neither did. Yet despite this, when the tally of the surviving Argentinian ships was made, Heerman was nowhere to be found, and he has not been seen anywhere since.

[artificialqueens]

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 9 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: right. i have no words. u all deserve this chapter after last week’s anguish….so as we say in my homeland…here wi…here wi…here wi fuckin go xo

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

8th November 2020

The rain has got worse.

It’s evolved from drizzle into a full-scale downpour, but Vanessa supposes it’s covering up the tears that are streaming down her face as she walks down the streets with only the orange of the streetlamps lighting her way in the dark. Her jumper is still in the rehearsal studios and she’s soaked to the skin, her hair plastered against her scalp and feeling much the same as if she’d just jumped in the shower.

She is so confused and hurt. Brooke has been so kind to her, she’s been supportive and caring and brought her flowers, for fuck’s sake, flowers that Vanessa’s still holding in her grasp but perhaps she should let go because let’s face it, she’s got to let go. Vanessa was so so sure she hadn’t misread the signals but…maybe she was wrong about the whole thing, maybe she was wrong about Brooke’s feelings.

She feels so embarrassed.

She gets to the end of the road and sighs. Her phone is in the pocket of her sweatpants and when she brings it out it’s immediately covered in raindrops. It takes her three attempts to unlock it in the rain and before she knows it she’s scrolling to Monique’s contact and ringing her. She’s lucky that Monique lives close by, and before she picks up the phone Vanessa has already made the decision to start walking in the direction of her flat.

“Hello hello?”

Vanessa takes a shaky breath in because she’s got absolutely no idea what her voice will sound like when she speaks. “Mo, I need to come round. I wouldn’t ask and I know it’s late an’ you’re probably exhausted but I…I really need a friend right now.”

There isn’t even a single pause between what Vanessa says and Monique’s response. Her voice replies instantly, comforting and reassuring and urgent all at once. “Come straight round. You want wine or tea?”

“I don’t even know. Tea maybe,” Vanessa shrugs, supposing that a hangover would be the last thing she needs tomorrow considering she’ll also have to face Brooke again.

“Gotcha. See you in five, boo.”

Even the small chat she’s had with Monique has made her tears dissipate slightly. It helps Vanessa feel reassured as she quickly crosses the road, her feet landing in all different depths of rapidly-forming puddles. By the time she’s outside Monique’s stairwell and pressing its buzzer, she feels like a submerged sponge.

“Come right up.”

Vanessa takes the stairs two at a time and when she gets to Monique’s door her friend is already holding it open. Maybe it’s because she’s seeing a friendly, kind face or maybe it’s because she can finally let out her emotions in peace but when she gets to Monique she falls into her arms for a hug and starts to cry all over again. Monique holds her steadily, not even making any comment about the fact the pink flannel pyjamas she’s wearing are getting drenched by proxy from Vanessa’s half-drowned frame. After a few moments spent this way, Vanessa feels Monique step away and motion her into the flat.

“C’mon, girl.”

Vanessa follows Monique into her bedroom. She’s been here before, probably hundreds of times, but the fairy lights and soft, patterned cotton bed sheets and heavy, dark curtains are comforting to Vanessa, helping her feel relaxed. She’s standing in the middle of the room as Monique looks at her with a single raised eyebrow of confusion, taking in her drenched clothes and mascara train tracks that adorn her cheeks and the bouquet of flowers that she’s still holding in her right hand. Vanessa can almost see the cogs in Monique’s brain turning.

“Alright,” she begins slowly. “Plan of action…I’m gonna make us tea. While I’m doin’ that, you’re gonna take a shower an’ borrow a set of my pyjamas. Make sure you choose comfy ones, Lord knows you need ‘em. Uh, I’ll take these too, I guess? Put ‘em in water.”

Monique points at the flowers and Vanessa wordlessly gives them to her. Monique examines them with an appreciative gaze.

“Huh. Heliotrope an’…somethin’ else, I don’t know that one.”

Vanessa scrunches her face up. Monique’s just given her the first laugh she’s had in the past half hour. “Since when were you the queen of horticort…horitic…plant knowledge?”

Monique quirks her a smile. “Hey, if you get given enough bouquets after dance competitions you start to recognise a flower or two.”

Vanessa shrugs in agreement and, as Monique leaves the room, she does what she’s told. She jumps into Monique’s en suite, strips down and takes a hot shower. On top of being wet outside it had also been freezing, so the warm water and all the steam feel like a big hug both physically and mentally. Vanessa grabs one of the clean fluffy towels that sit on the small bamboo shelves Monique’s put up and wraps it around herself as she pads back through to the bedroom. She’s been friends with Monique for so long that she knows which of the old battered wooden antique drawers holds which item of clothing (top drawer underwear and socks, second drawer down is tops, third drawer down is bottoms and bottom drawer is pyjamas) so she grabs a soft cotton pair of pyjamas that’s comprised of an oversized t shirt and some long, baggy pyjama pants. She tucks herself up into a little ball on the bed and the moment she’s finally comfy Monique returns with two steaming mugs of tea and a packet of biscuits tucked into the crook of her elbow and pinned to her side.

“You turned up on my doorstep at the right time, girl, I got the good shit earlier on today,” Monique smiles as she hands Vanessa her mug and gets herself comfortable under the duvet next to her, pointing at the biscuits which seem to be more chocolate than biscuit. Monique offers them to Vanessa, and she declines before Monique shrugs and rips into the packet herself. As she bites into one, she gives Vanessa a questioning and concerned gaze. “You wanna talk about it?”

Vanessa hums as she thinks, winces a little as the memory of what has happened barges into her mind again. She is momentarily distracted by the wet tendrils of hair dripping through her pyjama top, the towel-drying only doing so much. She turns to Monique and pouts. “Can you braid my hair an’ I can vent?”

“Sure, doll.”

So Vanessa vents. Tells her everything, the whole situation. Monique listens and by the time Vanessa is done her hair is in two perfect braids.

“So you’re tellin’ me-” Monique begins, once Vanessa is finished talking. “- that you were a cryin’ mess when you went for the kiss?”

Vanessa scrunches up her face in a frown. “I guess so?”

“Well, bitch!” Monique shoves her and lets out a huge exasperated sigh. “Why else you think she pushed you away? Would you wanna smooch with someone cryin’ their damn eyes out?”

Vanessa pauses as she considers Monique’s words. She might have a point, but then again she didn’t see the look Brooke had given her. In Vanessa’s mind, the only possible explanation is that Brooke is disgusted with her, she’d read all the signals wrong, and that she’s probably phoned up a producer already and quit the show.

Okay, maybe she’s being a little dramatic.

Vanessa doesn’t answer Monique’s question. Instead she reaches for the phone she’s discarded on Monique’s bedside table, looks at her notifications.

2 missed calls: Brooke Lynn

B: Vanessa I’m so sorry

B: If you want to just forget it all happened that’s okay, just please don’t be embarrassed xxx

Vanessa reads the text over again. The wording of the second one is weird and it messes with her head. The fact that the ball’s in her court, the fact Brooke is telling her not to be embarrassed, the kisses…

No. Don’t get your hopes up, bitch.

“She text you?”

Vanessa sighs, feels her whole body deflate like a balloon. She nods, wordlessly passes Monique the phone. She watches her eyes dart over it quickly, Monique’s face smirking as she hands her the phone back.

“Oh my God, Vanjie. She’s panicking just as much as you are.”

“Panicking ‘cuz she’s partnered with some crazy bitch tryna pull moves on her when she’s a professional just there to take part in a competition,” Vanessa huffs. She feels herself pout a little as she looks down at her phone. “I really liked her, Mo.”

“Will you stop usin’ past tense? It’s not over! You gotta go in there tomorrow morning, hold your head high, be a professional an’ act like nothing’s happened.”

Vanessa suddenly has a thought. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“I choreographed a fuckin’ Argentine Tango.”

Monique lets out a howl of a laugh as Vanessa puts her head in her hands and sinks down against the pillows. If Brooke thought their Salsa was hot Vanessa doesn’t even know how she’s going to react when she reveals the dance they’re doing tomorrow.

And tomorrow rolls around quickly. Vanessa drags herself into the studios, borrows rehearsal clothes from Monique which are ever-so-slightly too small for her but are preferable to wearing the crumpled outfit she’d been wearing in the rain yesterday. Monique flanks her as she walks with her from her flat, keeping her distracted with mindless chatter and silly jokes which Vanessa pretends to laugh at. Monique doesn’t seem to mind the fake laughter though, and when they arrive at the studios she gives Vanessa a tight hug and tells her to text her to tell her how things go.

Vanessa waits. She paces the rehearsal room and thanks God that they don’t have their filming slot first that day. She barely slept the night before, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to play the situation, and she’s concluded that if Brooke is giving her the option to pretend that Sunday never happened she’s going to take her up on that. Though she feels her already flimsy resolve breaking down as she finally sees Brooke enter the room, her face pale and her eyes puffy indicating a similar lack of sleep. Her hair hasn’t been brushed and her ponytail is what can only be described as bumpy, stray hairs sticking up from her scalp at all angles. She’s wearing a huge baggy hoodie with her exercise leggings and it’s swallowing her up, though from her expression it seems as if Brooke doesn’t mind.

For a moment there’s a sort of standoff. Vanessa waits for Brooke to speak first and it seems as if Brooke is doing the same for her. It’s Vanessa that finally speaks first, her guilt overtaking her.

“Morning,” she says simply. It’s only then that she registers the fact that Brooke is carrying a plastic bag.

“Hey. You, uh. You left your jumper and your speakers, so I brought them in today.”

“Thanks.”

Vanessa scuffs her shoe against the floor, casts her eyes to the ground. Brooke seemingly takes this as her cue to speak.

“Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?”

Vanessa cringes. She hopes she doesn’t do so visibly. She casts her eyes back up to Brooke, makes sure she’s got eye contact when she delivers her words. “Why, what happened yesterday?”

Brooke frowns, opens her mouth as if to remind her then snaps it closed again as she clearly realises what Vanessa wants to do. She gives a small smile which doesn’t meet her eyes. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” Vanessa nods curtly. She takes a deep breath, because Brooke is still her dance partner and they’re still competing and they’re still going to be on TV in six days’ time, so she pulls her shoulders back and fixes her with the best smile she can manage. “Let’s warm up. Then I’ll tell you what we’re doin’ this week.”

The kiss doesn’t get brought up again. That’s good. Vanessa’s glad. There’s nothing to say, so instead of talking they rehearse. They rehearse and rehearse and rehearse and they barely talk apart from that. Vanessa saves her communication for her choreography, in touches and Ochos and the way her body moves in Brooke’s hold. Vanessa’s still marking the majority of the dance, careful not to push herself too far, but she makes sure to put extra effort in when she’s teaching Brooke the Ganchos and they hook their legs together. Vanessa is sure Brooke gets extra quiet during those sections, and her eyes go all dark and heavy. She wants to believe Brooke likes her, wants to believe maybe she did want to reciprocate their kiss on Sunday, but the last time she got her hopes up that high Brooke had pulled away so she’s wary of doing so again. Still, though, the Argentine suits Brooke. The way she takes control and leads, the power in everything she does. Vanessa’s head is already a concrete mixer of emotions and horny is one she really doesn’t want to have to add to the list, but when Brooke puts one arm around her waist, lifts her up and drags her across the rehearsal room floor while Vanessa’s thigh is hooked over her hip it’s hard not to have some sort of visceral reaction.

The tension builds over days. They’ve been entirely professional all week, not even exchanged so much as a text and it’s eating Vanessa up inside. So when it gets to late evening on Wednesday and it’s dark outside and Vanessa has peeled off her jumper and sweats and is wearing a pair of little cycling shorts and a sports bra to rehearse in, she honestly doesn’t know how it’s going to go when she suggests a full run of the dance.

“If we get it so that we’re nailing it by tonight then we got Thursday, Friday an’ Saturday morning to polish it,” Vanessa explains to Brooke as she walks over to her phone and makes to re-start the music.

“Sure. Sounds good,” Brooke nods easily. She adjusts the table and chair that they start off their dance with, makes sure the napkin is in place. Vanessa swallows her anxieties and presses play, dashing over to the chair and sitting down in it.

“Full energy, okay?” she reminds Brooke, although she’s not sure she needs a reminder given that Brooke’s been putting her all into even tiny counts of eight.

The music starts and on the first beat Vanessa stretches out, places her hand against the table. Right on cue, Brooke has grabbed her forearm. Vanessa whips her head around to face her and Brooke draws their faces close with the palm of her hand flat against Vanessa’s cheek. Their eyes connect and for a second, Vanessa thinks she can see what looks like longing in the dark of Brooke’s pupils.

It’s just the dance. She has to be imagining it.

As quickly as she’s there Brooke is suddenly gone, spinning around and slamming her hand against the napkin in time with Vanessa. They raise it up so it’s level between them and Vanessa uses it to twirl in close to Brooke, their bodies instantly pressed together. Brooke’s got both hands on the napkin now and she’s using it to keep Vanessa close to her as she leans back then spins between Brooke’s left and right side. As Brooke lets go of the prop with one hand and Vanessa twirls across to the other side of the ballroom, she watches her scrunch the napkin up and slam it to the floor. The action makes her catch her breath. Brooke’s a good actress, and they’ve done this section hundreds of times, but the passion and frustration with which she’s doing it this time almost knocks Vanessa off balance.

Is she…? No.

They reach the section where they’re in hold but showing off the footwork. Vanessa doesn’t do it all, only makes sure she’s connecting legs with Brooke for the Ganchos, but it’s probably for the best as the eye contact they’re giving each other and the close proximity between their faces is almost burning. Part of Vanessa wants to look away it’s so intense, but they’re running the full dance and she did tell Brooke to give full energy so she has to hold up her end of that. They’re perfectly in sync the entire time, Brooke having memorised the choreography so well. Brooke lifts her to drag her across the floor and if Vanessa deliberately hooks her leg a little higher on Brooke’s waist then it’s simply a happy coincidence.

The next section flows well (Brooke makes a few little mistakes she’ll pull her up on) and when Brooke lifts Vanessa to spin her round her cheek is pressed against her chest and it sends a shockwave down Vanessa’s spine. Their faces are close again as they walk across the rehearsal room floor, Vanessa dipping down facing away from Brooke to extend her leg between Brooke’s open ones. Her arms lock around Brooke’s thighs for support and Brooke grips onto them as she helps her up, the power and force she uses when she spins Vanessa round and presses their foreheads together sending Vanessa up in flames. They’ve danced through these individual sections so many times but put together it’s almost too much. There’s an atmosphere in the air and Vanessa realises it’s the exact same as when they’d rehearsed the Salsa. They cross the floor once more and it reaches the point where Vanessa jumps up to straddle Brooke’s waist with both her legs. Brooke spins her round and Vanessa brings her arms up to cradle the back of her neck. As Brooke slows her spin she reaches the part where she’s meant to dip Vanessa, lower her to the ground, but she’s stopped dancing, electing instead to keep her eye contact steady and burning with Vanessa’s. Vanessa knows she should maybe lower one of her legs, or perhaps both of them, but she’s still got them both wrapped around Brooke’s waist and the fact Brooke’s still holding her without even so much as a tremble is too much. Brooke leans in, presses her forehead against Vanessa’s, and Vanessa can only hold her breath as Brooke squeezes her eyes shut. They’ve never been physically closer to each other and Vanessa knows she should do something, knows she should move the dance along, but her heart is begging Brooke to say something, to do something. She’d do it herself but making the first move didn’t seem to work out for her so great last time.

“Tell me that Sunday happened,” Brooke murmurs, and Vanessa’s heart stops. “Tell me you kissed me.”

Vanessa flushes red. Momentarily, she wonders if this is something Brooke’s doing to build chemistry between them during the dance. If it is then she’s quitting the entire show. Vanessa closes her own eyes, almost embarrassed to admit it. When she opens them, Brooke’s opened hers too and fuck, her eye contact is searing.

“I did,” she confirms. Then, because she’s petty and can’t let her off the hook easily, she raises her eyebrows. “But you never kissed back, remember?”

Vanessa sees the regret flash in Brooke’s eyes for only a second and then the sparkle is back. “No, that doesn’t sound like me. I don’t think that happened. Maybe I’m remembering it wrong though, maybe you need to remind me.”

Vanessa feels as if her synapses are melting. She’s basically being invited to kiss Brooke again, she’s confirming to her that it wasn’t a mistake, she wants it to happen again, that her pulling away the first time was…down to something else? She’s still not going to give Brooke what she wants that easily, though, so she cocks an eyebrow, tilts her head thoughtfully as she pulls back a little. “I’m sure you can remind yourself.”

Brooke doesn’t look deterred by this. She shrugs, fixes Vanessa with a soft smirk. “Okay.”

When Brooke gently leans in and meets Vanessa’s lips with hers, Vanessa is sure she sees fireworks going off in the dark of her closed eyes. She feels them too, they’re happening in every cell of her body because Brooke is voluntarily kissing her and she doesn’t know what this means but she’s going to take a wild guess and say that maybe, just maybe, Brooke likes her back after all. Brooke kisses like she dances- passionate, careful, fucking perfect. As Vanessa kisses back she’s trying not to speed things along, trying to make the moment last as long as she can, but it’s hard not to be eager and urgent and to kiss Brooke with a hunger she hadn’t known she was in possession of until now. She’s brought her hands around from the back of Brooke’s neck- one tangled in her hair, the other softly cupping her cheek- and she tries to channel all her gentleness into them, stroking her skin with her thumb gently as if Brooke is breakable and fragile like the moment they’re sharing.

It’s Vanessa who pulls away first (if only so she doesn’t give Brooke the upper hand of being the first one to pull away twice) and, as she’s depositing herself back on the floor to stand up, she can’t help but break out into a smile because Brooke is blushing and beaming at her and her arms are still wrapped around her waist.

Vanessa doesn’t really know what to say. That…happened. She’s confused, though. Just over twenty-four hours ago Brooke had been pulling away, not pulling her in. Vanessa thinks it’s almost too good to be true.

“Can we talk about all this?” Vanessa says before her brain has a chance to weigh up if it’s a good idea or not. Brooke’s smile falters and Vanessa feels guilty. “Not in a bad way, I just…like, my head is mush.”

“No, no, I get it. Of course we can,” Brooke nods, slides her arms away from Vanessa’s waist. “Here? Or in the canteen? We could go back to mine but it’s a bit far away.”

Vanessa pulls on her oversized jumper and then the green parka she’d wrapped herself up in to protect from the November cold. “I know a place.”

Vanessa drags the pair of them onto the tube and they travel to the Thames embankment, where they stop off at a nearby chippy to grab a styrofoam carton of chips each. The atmosphere between them has shifted- gone are the frosty silences and short conversations. Instead the two of them talk easily, bicker and laugh and flirt about nothing in particular. Vanessa knows they’ll talk things through once they’re comfortable so she settles on rolling her eyes at Brooke making fish puns in the middle of the chip shop (“when you said you knew a place I didn’t think you meant an ACTUAL plaice”). It’s quiet on the embankment, locals all home from work and tourists preferring the pull of the Houses of Parliament or the Eye across the river, so they don’t pass many people and they ones they do pass don’t seem to recognise them. Everything is calm and relaxed and easy, like the inky sky and the clean cold of the air and the smooth surface of the river that’s opposite them as they find a bench with only a few small puddles of water on it and settle down. Vanessa’s heart is thumping hard in her chest as Brooke sits down beside her, sitting diagonally so she can see her as they discuss things. It’s a small thing that Vanessa notices and appreciates.

“So,” Brooke says around a particularly hot chip, her mouth making an ‘o’ and steam flying out of it. “You wanted to talk.”

“Uh, yeah. ‘Cept now we’re here I don’t really know what to say.”

“Do you want me to start?”

Vanessa shrugs, bites into a chip delicately. “If you wanna.”

“Okay, well,” Brooke begins, then looks out to the river. The lights of the Eye are reflected in her own, blues and reds meeting greens and creating a kaleidoscope from which Vanessa never wants to look away. She pauses and takes a deep breath before meeting Vanessa’s eyes. “I’m really sorry for hurting your feelings on Sunday. If you’d kissed me in literally any other context, I wouldn’t have reacted like that. Honestly. I just…didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

Vanessa gives a laugh. She’s confused. “Take advantage?”

“No, I don’t mean like that, I mean…” Brooke frowns as she’s searching for the right words. It’s kind of adorable. “You were upset, you’d had a shit week. The music was all sad and you were crying and then you kissed me and I…didn’t want you to be doing that just because you felt upset. I didn’t want you to do that and then think you’d made a mistake.”

Vanessa pauses. She hasn’t considered that Brooke might have thought Vanessa would regret kissing her. To her the idea is so ridiculous that it almost makes her want to laugh but she doesn’t, because this means that Brooke was overthinking their kiss and trying to talk herself out of the idea of Vanessa possibly liking her back.

Now don’t that sound familiar.

Vanessa tries to stifle a smile as she tilts her head to look at Brooke. “It wasn’t a mistake, baby, I meant the whole damn thing.”

She wants to squeal when Brooke’s face breaks out into an enormous grin, one that Vanessa is sure must hurt her face. Vanessa likes the fact that Brooke is talking, likes the fact she’s saying everything first because it means she gets to hold her guard up just that little bit longer before this girl tears it down and even though she’s ready for that, it doesn’t mean she isn’t ever so slightly scared of it.

“So, uh…” Vanessa asks her, her tone light and teasing. Brooke crosses her legs and Vanessa has to try to stop herself getting any ideas. “That cast member you got a crush on. You gonna tell me who it is now?”

Brooke bursts out laughing, tipping her head back and lacing her hand with Vanessa’s at the same time. “Shut up. Are you really going to make me say it?”

Vanessa simply raises her eyebrows at Brooke, lets her know she’s waiting on her answer. Brooke gives another laugh as she gives in. “Fine! Well…she’s one of the dancers.”

“Uh huh.”

“I saw her on the induction day and I thought she was hot. We had a bit of a flirt and it was all fun and games. Then I followed her on Instagram because I was thirsty. Thought for ages about how to slide into her DMs but I was too much of a scaredy cat so I just commented on one of her pics instead,” Brooke continues to explain. Her admission makes Vanessa giggle, sends her heart leaping into the air because oh my God, Brooke had wanted to talk to her before the series even started too. She was thinking about Vanessa for the same amount of time Vanessa had been thinking about her. “Then it got to the intro show and I was like…screaming inside. I knew I wanted to be partnered with her, I knew even before the induction day because she’s so, so good at what she does. In fact, she needs to believe in herself more, but that’s besides the point. Anyway, we got paired up. I was so fucking ecstatic that night. She drunk-texted me and I actually lay in bed squealing and flailing like a teenage girl because I got so excited that she was thinking of me.”

Brooke is so animated when she’s talking about her crush. Her. She’s talking about her, and Vanessa is so happy and emotional she almost wants to cry but that would be peak pathetic so she squeezes Brooke’s hand instead, the hand that’s still entwined with hers.

“I keep growing closer to her and finding out more about her and she trusts me with stories about her life, trusts me to fling her body around the rehearsal studios despite the fact I’m so fucking clumsy I could drop something that’s superglued to my hand-“

“Stop lyin’, shut up,” Vanessa rolls her eyes at Brooke’s self-deprecation, and Brooke gives a gentle snort of a laugh.

“- And I just keep liking her more and more with every day,” Brooke smiles at her, her face all dreamy and dazed as if she’s sleepwalking. It suddenly snaps into a smirk, her eyes dark and playful, and it’s Vanessa’s turn to cross her legs. “And she doesn’t help any of it by looking like a Gymshark model and sticking her cute little butt out any time we rehearse.”

Vanessa screeches out an outraged laugh which Brooke’s quick to join in with. “Hey, I had to get your attention somehow!”

As their laughter dies down Vanessa fixes Brooke with a smile, scoots closer to her on the bench. “So go on, then. What’s her name?”

Brooke pulls Vanessa close with the hand she’s holding and when she says Vanessa’s name in response she feels worshipped. Suddenly, Brooke’s eyes fly open a little in what seems like panic. “Sorry. Fuck. That was all too much, wasn’t it?”

“Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa laughs. “I’ve had the most huge, embarrassin’ fuckin’ crush on you since God knows when. I really like you. Chill.”

Brooke’s still got a soft little smile on her face and it makes Vanessa wants to kiss her again so much so she pushes the images of long lens cameras out of her mind for the moment and leans in, kisses Brooke soft and gentle and slow and Vanessa doesn’t think she’ll ever get bored of the way Brooke kisses her back.

When Vanessa pulls away she’s right beside Brooke on the bench, so she slings an arm around her waist and rests her head against her chest for good measure. It’s still cold outside but Vanessa hopes that isn’t the only reason for Brooke cuddling her back, linking their hands together like a little chain. Vanessa’s happy, but her mind is still full of thoughts.

“How good are you at keeping secrets?”

“Depends what it is,” Brooke replies. Vanessa tilts her head up before she speaks again because this is important, she needs to see Brooke’s reaction and make sure she says this in the right way.

“I can’t do the whole…paparazzi, me-in-the-papers, invasion-of-privacy thing again. It was bad enough when me an’ Kam broke up,” she begins, and Brooke nods understandingly. “So I guess what I’m askin’ is…can we be careful? Whatever ‘we’ is. I don’t know yet but I don’t mind just figuring things out along the way.”

Brooke nods slowly, taking things in. “So you want to keep us secret for now?”

“Just until the show ends,” Vanessa reassures her, tries to ignore the triple somersault her heart does at the word ‘us’. “I don’t want people thinkin’ it’s a publicity stunt or tryin’ to take attention away from the other couples or anythin’ like that. Also I don’t want this getting ruined for us.”

Vanessa’s heart stands still as Brooke thinks for a second. She’s relieved when a grin spreads across her face. “Can I still flirt with you on Instagram? That’s fun.”

“Flirt with me anywhere you want, boo.”

“God, you know I’m so going to play into this? Think of all those fan accounts for us all those fourteen year olds run. They’re going to implode,” Brooke smiles, bouncing in her seat on the bench excitedly. It’s so endearing it makes Vanessa smile more than she already is. Her heart is still fluttering nervously; there’s butterflies trapped in there and as long as Brooke is holding her hand and smiling at her like that with her eyes all soft Vanessa is not really sure if they’ll ever go away. She doesn’t care, though.  

They stay on the bench for a while until their chips are finished. Brooke takes a photo of Vanessa who smiles brightly at the camera, carton of chips in her lap and her hair all messy over her shoulders but she doesn’t even care because she’s happy, so happy and relieved and when they walk back to the station together it feels like she’s walking on little clouds. They don’t kiss goodbye because it’s busier in the station but Brooke does sneak a peck against her neck when they hug and it makes Vanessa feel gooey inside. When Vanessa gets home that night she has both an Instagram tag and two messages from Brooke. She opens the message first.

B: I’m so glad we talked, I had the best time tonight. Can’t wait until I can take you on a proper date!! See you tomorrow cutie xxxxxx

B: (Sorry if cutie is ick I’m just going to try out a bunch of pet names because I can xxxxxx)

Vanessa feels her heart almost burst open at everything Brooke’s said to her. The confirmation that she enjoyed her company, the promise of a date, the pet name (which she definitely won’t say no to). It’s all like a big hug for her mind which had previously been exhausted with overthinking. Vanessa doesn’t realise how much she’s smiling at her screen as she types out her reply until it physically hurts her face.  

V: me too. you’re so amazing. for ref i like Zoilo if we going bougie or Franco Manca if we broke. cutie gets seal of approval from me… u a bit of a cutie urself xxxxxx

Before she gets ready for bed that night she decides to open up Instagram to see what Brooke has tagged her in. It’s the photo of her on the bench from earlier, and Vanessa wants to blush at how happy and smiley she looks. She scrolls to Brooke’s caption, and if she wasn’t blushing before she’s definitely blushing now.

bhytes: Post-rehearsal chips by the river with this diamond. I could get used to this. 🧡

Their fans are in meltdown in the comments, and Vanessa is melting herself.

Saturday comes quicker than Vanessa wants it to. It’s maybe because she never wants her time with Brooke to end whether that’s on or off the show. They’ve done full runs of their dance each day, the pair of them sneaking kisses with each other sometimes even mid-dance.

“You know we need to stop doin’ that, right?” Vanessa warns Brooke with a smile after Brooke kisses all down her neck mid-Tango in a bid to wind her up (she’d succeeded, and if Vanessa might need to take a cold shower later that’s nobody’s business but her own.)

“Why?”

“Because we’re gonna end up doin’ it on the night an’ then the cat’s outta the bag after what, three days?”

Vanessa doesn’t miss the way Brooke runs her tongue over her lips a little. She’s got a smirk on her face as she pulls her in close, slides her hands down her sides and hooks her fingers over the waistband of her leggings. “Well if you are going to keep wearing things that make your butt look so good, I am going to find it hard to stop kissing you.”

Brooke snaps the elastic of her waistband and Vanessa feels a fire ignite low in her stomach. She’s not told Brooke that she was the girl from her sex dream, she’s been saving that information for another day. She wonders when that day’s going to come, though. If Vanessa had her way she would lock the rehearsal room door, throw herself at Brooke and practically beg the girl to raw her, but she doesn’t know what Brooke’s thinking or feeling and Vanessa doesn’t want to risk ruining the high levels of sexual tension they’ve cultivated over roughly a month by asking her when they’re only 24 hours away from performing another incredibly sexy dance. By Saturday night the pair of them are ready to perform and their biggest challenge, Vanessa thinks, will be to try and act as if they’ve not started seeing each other and are in the complete honeymoon phase of whatever it is they are.

And soon enough Vanessa is sitting on a chair in the middle of the ballroom floor dressed in a long sparkling nude-effect dress with a split up its side, facing away from Brooke who’s in black tailored suit trousers and a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves buttoned up to the neck and an undone bow tie around it. The audience are silent as their VT plays, and then the familiar voice of the commentator is booming overhead.

“Dancing the Argentine Tango…Brooke Lynn Hytes and Vanessa Mateo!”

There’s four clicks of drumsticks smacking together before the music starts and the pair of them hit the first beats of the dance. There’s even more electricity between them now and when Brooke grabs her arm, reels her in with the napkin, pulls her close so their bodies are pressed against each other, Vanessa feels as if she’s burning up inside. They added in a little bit of choreo after their kiss and their riverbank date on Wednesday night, and Vanessa’s back is to the audience and the cameras as she gives Brooke a wink, hooks her fingers around each side of the lapels on Brooke’s shirt.

“I’m tellin’ you to loosen up my buttons, babe, uh-huh-”

Vanessa rips the velcro she knows the costume designers have concealed in the lapels and reveals a little strip of Brooke’s chest, her collarbones exposed. The roar that goes up from the audience in response has Vanessa feeling as if they’re dancing in a football stadium rather than the ballroom at Elstree. The shirt isn’t even open enough to expose any of Brooke’s cleavage but Vanessa suddenly realises how people in old-timey costume dramas feel when they see a woman’s ankle. As they press their foreheads together and cross the ballroom floor Vanessa finds it hard not to break character and smile like an idiot at Brooke Lynn, the girl that likes her back, the girl that maybe one day she’ll get to call her girlfriend, the girl that she can kiss any time she likes. She could technically kiss her now as she drops to the floor and Brooke comes with her, still holding her hand with her arm around her waist, but she focuses on getting the Ganchos right because they need a good score. Vanessa needs to show Brooke, show the judges, show every fucking person watching at home that she is a force to be reckoned with, that she can teach and choreograph and make Brooke progress.

Still, it’s hard not to just reach her lips forward and press them against Brooke’s as she drags her across the floor, Vanessa making sure to get her leg as high as it’ll go on her waist just to show Brooke what she’s capable of. As Brooke lifts her up and spins her, Vanessa sneaks a look at the judges’ table. Bianca is watching impassively as usual, Shangela is smiling from ear to ear, Kennedy is screaming and Laganja is leaning almost over the desk, her mouth wide open.

If ever there was a desired reaction to her choreography, it’s probably that.

There’s a point in the middle of the dance where the two of them pause in hold and just give each other an incredibly lingering look. Vanessa doesn’t have to act for this section and as she slowly brings her eyes up from Brooke’s chest to meet her gaze, she feels her knees turn ever-so-slightly weak as she catches the hunger, passion and fire in the other girl’s eyes.

If they don’t get at least 35 in this, Vanessa is going to quit the show and take Brooke with her.

Vanessa can hear the screams from one of the judges as she and Brooke walk slowly across the dancefloor with their hands cradling the back of each others’ necks. Brooke gracefully lowers her to the floor and pulls her up again, Vanessa making sure to press their bodies tight together once she’s in front of her. She catches the way Brooke’s eyes grow ever so slightly wide and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t fill her with a sense of pride. They get to the part that makes Vanessa’s pulse speed up every time- her legs wrapped around Brooke’s waist, Brooke spinning her around- because of all the memories attached to it. This time Brooke doesn’t kiss her, though- she dips her down one way then the other with her strong arms supporting Vanessa’s back.

Vanessa feels safer in Brooke’s arms than she’s ever felt with any six-packed, world-champion male partner. But of course, she knows exactly why that is.

The dance is coming to an end and Vanessa puts her all into walking Brooke back, her hand against her chest. Brooke sits down in the chair, spreads her legs before reaching out and letting Vanessa twirl into her arms, where she leans into her and wraps her arms around Brooke. She knows she’s got her chest pushed right up in Brooke’s face and all she’ll probably be able to smell is her perfume, but Vanessa doesn’t really mind and she’s got a feeling Brooke doesn’t either. As the final notes of the music ring through the studio, the audience are yelling and clapping the place down. Vanessa doesn’t even know if Brooke made any mistakes and at this point she doesn’t care because they did that dance proud, she knows they did, and as Brooke wraps her arms tight around her waist Vanessa feels her press a kiss to her collarbone that makes her giddy. Vanessa squeals with happiness and she feels Brooke pick her up in their hug and walk her over to where Michelle is standing. As they finally break apart she can see the smile on Brooke’s face. Vanessa throws caution to the wind a little, plants both her hands on either side of Brooke’s face so that her eyes are firmly locked on her own.

“We did it, baby,” she whispers to her, and she’s not even sure it’ll be audible over the cheers of the crowd but Brooke nods rapidly in happiness and Vanessa knows she’s been heard.

Michelle finally manages to pry Brooke off of her and get some form of reaction about how she feels the dance went.

“Oh my God, it felt amazing,” Brooke smiles. She’s laced her arm around Vanessa’s waist and Vanessa’s done the same, and Brooke gives her a little squeeze and a smile down at her as she continues. “We’ve obviously had a bit of a crazy week…you know, Vanessa coming back from her injury, but she’s just such a great person and such a great teacher that she still managed to recover and teach me all this, and I’m just so grateful for her. I’m so glad I’ve got her back. She’s not allowed to leave me again!”

Michelle laughs as Brooke puts her other arm around Vanessa to hug her, and Vanessa happily reciprocates.

“Vanessa, how do you think Brooke Lynn got on this week?”

Vanessa pries herself out from under Brooke’s arm and simply smiles up at her in response. “She knows how amazin’ I think she is, I’m gonna let the judges tell her instead.”

Michelle gives another laugh and so do some of the judges. Vanessa doesn’t miss the single raised eyebrow that Bianca shoots towards her. Her stomach dips. Maybe they hadn’t been as good as she’d thought…?

“Speaking of judges- Bianca, let’s come to you first. How did Brooke do?”

“Well…” there’s a silence as Bianca shuffles her notes a little. Vanessa feels her heart stand still. “I thought…that it was absolutely brilliant.”

The audience erupts. Vanessa is so shocked and happy that she can’t help the grin that breaks out on her face, and she and Brooke both instantly reach for each other to hug. There’s a rare smile to Bianca’s voice as she continues. “Brooke Lynn, there’s one thing that Vanessa can’t teach you, in fact nobody can teach it, and that’s chemistry. The chemistry you had with Plastique last week was great but the chemistry you have with Vanessa is incredible. The Argentine is all about that, it’s the passion and the fire, and you encapsulated that so well. Watch with the Ganchos that your feet are pointed all the way down, we should have a full 180 degrees there which I know you can do because I’ve seen it before- and it should be more of a light motion, you’re not churning butter…but other than that, a great job this week, well done.”

Vanessa looks up at Brooke and she’s still smiling as Michelle comes onto Shangela. She and Kennedy both give them glowing praise, the pair of them also mentioning the chemistry between them, and then it’s Laganja’s turn. The audience are already giggling in anticipation- they know she’s theatrical, and her reaction is going to be big. Vanessa watches as she sits composed in her chair, narrows her eyes, and points at them both with her pen.

“Is there…something going on…?” she asks. Vanessa feels her hand tighten around Brooke’s waist. She clenches her teeth together as she smiles. Fuck. Have they been too obvious? Laganja pauses dramatically as Brooke gives a laugh Vanessa can tell is fake. “I mean…first that American Smooth, and then that Viennese, and now THIS? Is there something in the air tonight, Fernando?!”

Vanessa lets out a relieved laugh as Laganja references Gigi and Crystal and Jan and Jackie’s dances, realises she’s not asking specifically about her and Brooke.

“LADIES, ma’am, I don’t have any earthly words for what I just witnessed!! The connection you two have is just incomparable…Brooke, you’ve been so great the past two weeks but I can tell you’re at your most comfortable and your happiest when you’re dancing with Vanessa, it’s like you’re here, you’ve arrived! This is elevated, mama! I don’t know if you could hear me screaming when you dragged Vanessa across the floor-”

“New Zealand heard that scream, Laganja,” Bianca cuts in deadpan, and the audience laughs.

“- yes thank you, Simon Cowell! Maybe your feet weren’t as pointed as they could’ve been during the Ganchos- you know what, I honestly don’t care! I wasn’t looking at your feet! I spent that entire dance wondering if you were going to smooch each others’ faces off midway through!”

Vanessa bursts out laughing as she feels Brooke do the same beside her. They’re both squeezing each others’ sides for dear life. If they only fucking knew.

“Great job, Brooke, and Vanessa- welcome back, ma, that’s how you return after an injury.”

The audience clap them as Michelle sends them upstairs, and Vanessa’s hand is tight in Brooke’s as they run up to the Divinatorium and are greeted by Divina herself. She interviews the pair of them but Vanessa can hardly speak, she’s practically vibrating with excitement beside her partner. Their comments were so encouraging, the best they’ve had. Brooke’s never had a 10 from any of the judges before. Maybe tonight is the night?

“Will the judges please reveal their scores. Bianca Del Rio.”

Vanessa’s screaming before Bianca can even speak, because there, on the paddle, is an, “Eight!”

Brooke’s arm flies around her waist in a hug but Vanessa can’t yet accept it, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Kennedy Davenport.”

“Nine!” she says happily, and Vanessa is so happy that she can almost feel tears stinging her eyes.

“Shangela Wadely.”

“Nine!” she beams at the camera, sticking her paddle into the air. Vanessa’s heart lifts itself up into the rafters as the camera pans to Laganja’s seat. She gave them the most favourable critiques. Maybe…?

“Laganja Estranja.”

“I hope y��all are ready for this…TEN!” she screeches as she stands up, and Vanessa can barely take in the amount of things that happen at once. Her pulse skyrockets, Brooke practically leaps on her in her haste to wrap her in a hug, the other couples are screaming and cheering and clapping for them, and her eyes basically spring a leak. She has no idea why she’s so emotional but Jesus Christ, she’s allowed to be after the past few weeks she’d had. Laganja thought their dance was a ten. A perfect ten. Flawless. Impeccable. They’re second on the leaderboard behind Jan and Jackie (who scored thirty-eight). Vanessa feels like running back down the stairs and kissing the judges, never mind Brooke Lynn beside her.

But of course, the thought of kissing Brooke is one that isn’t too far away, and they’re walking down the corridors, laughing and chatting after their reaction interview and about to go back to makeup when Brooke slows beside her dressing room door, laces her hands in Vanessa’s.

“Um…” she casts her eyes downwards, and when she meets Vanessa’s gaze again there’s a little glint in her eye that makes Vanessa squeeze her thighs together. Brooke puts on her very best, professional, TV presenter voice as she talks. “Vanessa. Would you mind helping me with something for two minutes in my dressing room?”

Vanessa almost feels her pupils blow as Brooke gently tugs her in. The moment she steps through the dressing room door Brooke wastes no time in closing it, spinning her round and pressing her up against it as she crashes their lips together. Vanessa has to stop herself from sliding down the door, feeling like a snowman in July as Brooke’s soft lips press against hers and her tongue licks gently into her mouth. If Brooke’s tongue can make her feel this weak when they’re just kissing, Vanessa almost doesn’t dare think about how good it could feel elsewhere.

Vanessa can give as good as she gets though, and she likes to have the upper hand so she  drops her lips to Brooke’s neck, presses frantic kisses down down down to her collarbone where she sucks at the skin, bites ever so gently then licks over the mark she’s just created, kissing hard against it once, twice, three times before she feels Brooke lean down to murmur into her ear.

“That better not’ve left a mark.”

Vanessa’s spine feels like an electricity pylon. “Does it feel like it didn’t leave a mark?”

Her breath hitches as Brooke slams her knee in between her thighs, cages her in. Brooke’s voice is a low whisper as she kisses her neck, making Vanessa whine. “You’re so bad, fuck.”

“You like it when I’m bad, huh?” Vanessa teases, dropping both her hands to Brooke’s waist as she bucks her hips against her. The friction has got her feeling tightly wound and she needs more, way more than this.

“God, yes,” Brooke sighs, brings her mouth back up to kiss her again. It’s not as frantic as their first; this time it’s slow, teasing, and driving Vanessa absolutely insane. They’ve not talked about this, where this is going to go, and Vanessa doesn’t want to assume anything but still…Brooke’s got her in a pretty compromising position. She’s still going to check though, so she pulls back, murmurs against Brooke’s lips as she places both her hands on either side of her jaw.

“What do you want, baby?”

Brooke gives a sigh mixed up with a gasp as Vanessa trails a finger down her neck, stops it at her chest right where her shirt’s buttoned up. “Ah…want you to-”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

Vanessa launches herself away from the door, almost jumps into Brooke’s arms Scooby-Doo style in shock. Brooke’s got her arms around Vanessa, her eyes equally wide and her mouth just as slack-jawed. She steps away quickly as whoever’s behind the door starts speaking.

“Brooke Lynn? You and Vanessa are needed in makeup.”

Vanessa can see Brooke swallowing thickly, the rise and fall of her chest as she tries to compose herself. The very sight of that alone makes Vanessa’s mouth dry. “Okay, no worries! We’ll be down soon!”

The pair of them stand in the dressing room in silence listening to the sound of the runner walking away. It’s funny- the pair of them sneaking around like they’re in high school or some shit, and it makes Vanessa press her lips together in an attempt to stifle a laugh. She looks at Brooke Lynn, who’s got much the same expression on her face. It’s Brooke that cracks first, and soon the pair of them are standing giggling together.

“Nothing like getting the absolute shit scared out of us to really kill the mood,” Brooke laughs softly, reaching out and tucking a piece of Vanessa’s hair behind her ear that has come loose from its bun. Vanessa smiles, sighing a little and taking her hand.

“We should go. It’ll be a batterin’ ram next.”

“Right,” Brooke shrugs a little, stroking the back of Vanessa’s hand with her thumb. Vanessa can see she’s holding something back and just as she’s about to ask her what it is, Brooke meets her eyes. “You think we’re going through to Blackpool?”

Vanessa has almost forgotten what week it is next week; where the dancers all travel up to the iconic Blackpool Tower ballroom for one night away from Elstree. They pull out all the stops that night and they’re allowed backup dancers and even sometimes a set instead of just props. She tilts her head in thought- the fact that by the end of tonight there’ll be just six of them left in the competition is wild to her, the whole thing is going so quickly. She can see in Brooke’s eyes that she’s not forgotten, though, the nerves almost visibly clouding her vision, so Vanessa leans up and presses a soft kiss to her lips and feels Brooke relax against her.

She pulls away and shoots Brooke a soft grin. “After that performance? You might as well start packing your case, baby.”

[karlacri]

27. favourite national celebrity? 16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

oh, I didn't think they would ask me something so fast 😅 xDDD I don't know if this counts, but I think it's important to mention that although I live in Chile my parents are Peruvian, so the answers are probably mixed between the two countries xD

27) Favorite national celebrity: As I am not very aware of the entertainment world, I think that here the groups or people of whom I know 2-3 songs or something like that could enter  😅 and those would be:

*From Chile: The folkloric, Andean and Latin American rhythms groups 

Los Jaivas, canción Mira Niñita song Look little girl sub english   Todos Juntos song All together sub english Todos juntos full hd xd  Sube a nacer conmigo hermano sub english 

Inti Illimani, Samba Landó   I did not find a video with the lyrics, but I did find a web page that translated it (I hope it is ok)  Sirviñaco I did not find the lyrics in English, but in the comments it is in Spanish and it is about a young man proposing to a young woman that they marry Carnavalito de la Quebrada de Humahuaca (popular Argentine)

Illapu     Paloma Ausente  the lyrics are by Violeta Parra, but Illapu sings it xd  Lejos del Amor  Far away from love  Surviving /Sobreviviendo  lyrics in english  "Vuelvo para vivir" (I'm coming back to stay) (I feel that this song needs context xd from 1973-1990 in Chile there was a dictatorship where these groups were exiled due to political differences and when the dictatorship ended and they were able to return, Illapu wrote this song. The song Sobreviviendo I think was not written by someone from the group, but it was written during the dictatorship)

and Violeta Parra (who is famous for collecting and disseminating Chilean folk music and representing things like that in hers songs) Run Run se fue pal norte lyrics in english  La jardinera/ The gardener  lyrics english  Volver a los 17 Returning to seventeen sub english in youtube  Rin del angelito/ Rin of the little angel (rin is a musical genre from an island in southern Chile. In the song Angelito is a child who has died very young, Violeta wrote the song when her baby died and in this video there are scenes from that moment in a movie about her life. I say it in case someone is affected )

Thanks to life Gracias a la Vida  (is her most famous song and one of the last he wrote before her death)

As a curious fact, I can say that all of them were more or less contemporary during the time called New Chilean Song in the 60-70s that sought to recover folk music and was also combined with rhythms and instruments from other countries on the continent.

*From Peru: Group 5 which is a cumbia group, and I just discovered that it is practically the same age as my dad xd Motor y motivo/ my life’s mission song   Que levante la mano 

Yma Sumac who was a well-known soprano and has a star on the walk of fame. She was famous for her very high voice, she said that she had learned to sing like this by imitating birds singing as a child her duet with flute   Interview

Gastón Acurio who is a chef and promoter of Peruvian gastronomy, as far as I know he is one of the greatest ambassadors of Peruvian gastronomy (I don't always pay attention to everything his recipes say, but I do take some advice xD)

Juan Diego Flores: He is a light tenor that according to the internet is one of the best tenors on the current scene Ojos Azules / Valicha  

he singing the National Anthem 

  Juan Diego Flórez: What happens when an opera star goes onstage?

 Apart from them, I need to make an honorable mention to Los Kjarkas (Saya San Andrés  my favourite song xd saya is a bolivian dance), one of the most important groups in Andean music. The group is Bolivian, so technically I shouldn't mention them, but for me they are celebrities and they are the only group that I follow on facebook and of whom I have wanted to go to a concert xd

16) Stereotypes: I haven't seen this on my internet for so long that I probably mention outdated things, sorry From Chile: I remember there was a moment on Facebook where a couple of memes came out about how in Chile people were retarded and ate dogs. I do not know how widespread it was, I did not see much of it, but more than annoying me, it puzzled me because I did not know where that could have come from although a while ago I had a hypothesis about the matter of dogs. 🤔

meme on the matter and incidentally shows the myth that Peru eats pigeons

The best known among South Americans of all is that the accent and the way of speaking of Chileans is unintelligible to other Spanish speakers and that in Chile Spanish is spoken very badly xD Looking around, I saw that apparently so much is the case that in 2015 a Chilean linguist wrote a book about how Spanish was not badly spoken in Chile, it was only spoken differently xd According to me, the origin of this is that in Chile people tend to speak faster than everyone else, combined with the jargons that seem to be very different from those in other countries. I think I agree with this moderately, because there are people who speak quite fast, interrelated and / or it is difficult to understand the expressions they use, but it is not unintelligible as the meme says (in fact, I have a friend who speaks slowly, and even the Chileans themselves drew attention xd) and I can understand my teachers and classmates most of the time

meme about Spain laughing at France because most of their former territories don't speak their language, while the former territories of Spain learned their language ... or almost all of them xd And something I forgot to say, apparently it is quite distinctive that in Chile "asjkssjaskka" laughs while others laugh "jajaja" apparently xD

From Peru: I think the best known is still the one that Peruvians eat pigeons. As I read once years ago on Facebook (high scientific rigor xd 😅) the myth arose in Chile when in a certain place in the capital where many Peruvians came to live, the pigeons that had always been there began to disappear. From what I remember, sometimes the meme is shown as if the pigeon were the flag dish of Peru and that you cannot live without it, but it is a lie xd I know it is eaten, my mother at least ate pigeon with noodles and she told me that were raised to eat (and in fact he told me that it was possible that there really were people who had hunted in the plaza at some time 😅), and I also saw Gastón Acurio prepare pigeon ocopa (ocopa is like a cream and is eaten with rice, potato and lettuce). However, the case of Gastón Acurio was that he was preparing forgotten recipes from a 1950 cookbook, so I highly doubt that many people prepare it and it is definitely not very representative (there are much more widespread and famous dishes). About the noodles, it may be prepared, but it is much more common to see the chicken noodle.  Anyway, it does not seem very serious considering that there are other places where you eat or ate pigeon cake xd    

It is also that Peru claims everything as its own, but it is more because of a fight it has with Chile over whether the pisco sour (a drink with lemon) is Peruvian or Chilean and something similar happens with ceviche. Anyway it is exaggerated and I think that most people on both sides do not really care about the matter xD

Peru meme claiming things like yours

Chile and Peru fight for pisco sour. "wn" can mean from friend to idiot depending on the context and is one the best know chilean slang xd

Anyway, it is a meme that is almost always taken with humor (or at least I do) xd  😅  

I guess that's it, I'm sorry I literally answered you almost a month later and I'm also very sorry for how long the answer is, at first it was hard for me to write something and suddenly I ended up with this xd 😅

[recentanimenews]

FEATURE: 7 Times Anime Busted Out Pro-Wrestling Moves

  If you watch enough anime, you’ll begin to see that a lot of shows like to reference professional wrestling by having characters utilize various moves on one another. Sometimes, that will make sense within the context of the show, but other times, it might seem a little random. Regardless, it’s always a fun time when an anime decides to add in a touch of pro-wrestling into an episode. Two years ago, I wrote about six wild suplexes that were featured in a variety of anime, so let’s take a look at seven other instances where anime decided it needed a flair of pro-wrestling.

  Naruto Shippuden - Liger Bomb

    There’s something amazing about the Raikage using pro-wrestling moves as a way to fight against people using wild and ridiculous jutsu. There’s the intense double lariat he does with Bee against the clone of Kisame, and then him pulling out a Liger Bomb against Sasuke. This utilization is somewhat strange because it’s technically not the same Liger Bomb that Jushin Thunder Liger uses in real life (it’s more in line with a Batista Bomb/sit-out powerbomb in terms of powerbomb variations), but also creates a reference within a reference.

  Does the Raikage using this maneuver mean that Jushin Liger the wrestler also exists in some form in Naruto or is it Jushin Liger the manga by Go Nagai? Maybe it’s both, similar to how things happened in our reality? Now that’s a non-canon arc I’d be interested in seeing! Either way, the Raikage’s Liger Bomb is incredibly effective since not only does he cover himself in lightning, it’s a move that no one else had survived until Sasuke had to pull out one of his big techniques just to make sure it didn’t kill him.

  The God of High School - Stunner

    Seeing the most popular move from the US boom period of wrestling being done in an anime is still a wild sight. You know it’s a great move when it’s utilized in the opening as well. Mah Miseon utilizes pro-wrestling as her martial art in the confines of the tournament, which is the best. Perhaps my favorite bit about her character is when she goes up against Yoo Mira and tells Mira that using a weapon on her would be ineffective because she’s used to being hit by those kinds of items thanks to being a pro-wrestler and taking bumps regularly. That’s just brilliant!

  Mah Miseon’s version of the stunner is exactly what you’d picture if you ever saw Stone Cold Steve Austin do the move. She sets it up with a kick to the gut and grabs her opponent's head and sits down, jamming their jaw into her shoulder. It was effective enough to help her move onto the preliminaries, but maybe she should’ve pulled it off in her fight with Yoo Mira. Who knows, maybe that could’ve been the path to victory instead of defeat.

  Love Live! Sunshine!! - Crossface Chicken Wing

    Yoshiko at various points throughout Love Live! Sunshine!! will put other members of Aqours into an abdominal stretch which she’s effectively dubbed “Fallen Dragon Phoenix Hold.” In Season 2, Riko begins an unlikely friendship with Yoshiko, which sees some of Yoshiko’s fallen angel schtick rub off on her. We see this when Riko applies a crossface chicken wing on Yoshiko and calls it, “Silent Cherry Blossom Nightmare.” 

  The crossface chicken wing has been a staple in pro-wrestling for many years and became popular in 1994 when Bob Backlund utilized it as his finishing move in his heel run to capture the WWF Championship ten years after his last reign as champion. The move is also utilized today by multiple-time WWE Women’s Champion, Asuka, who redubbed it the Asuka Lock. What makes this utilization in Love Live! Sunshine!! humorous is there really isn’t any other indication that pro-wrestling exists in this universe. This makes me want to see a school idol group that acts like pro-wrestlers, or does pro-wrestling on the side, similarly to the idol wrestlers in Tiger Mask W. However, idols and wrestling being combined isn’t something that’s too surprising since back in the early '90s, companies like All Japan Women’s Pro-Wrestling were trying to do something similar by having certain wrestlers also do singing performances at shows as well. 

  Naruto - Canadian Destroyer

    Earlier we discussed when Sasuke was on the receiving end of a pro-wrestling move, but over 200 episodes before that, he was giving one out. In the midst of the Chunin Exams, Sasuke is able to grab a disguised Orochimaru, flip in midair, and then hit a devastating piledriver. Given that the episode this was featured in aired in 2003, this was just about when Petey Williams was beginning to popularize his front-flip piledriver known as a Canadian Destroyer. It’s certainly not like nowadays where it’s become a much more common move in pro-wrestling, so seeing it this early in Naruto is a bit shocking.

  Now, some people might say this is supposed to be just a regular piledriver, but Sasuke clearly is able to turn Orochimaru’s body 180 degrees to land in a piledriver position, so it totally counts. There was probably some old-timer ninja that got in a huff about Sasuke using it, but he shouldn’t listen to them. I still find it wildly entertaining that in the midst of this big fight early in Naruto, one of Sasuke’s key moves is a piledriver. Given the danger associated with that move, it’s smart since he’s able to smash Orochimaru’s head from quite a big drop. That should be an incredibly devastating maneuver. Too bad Orochimaru is a slithery one and won’t be put down that easily. 

  Re:ZERO -Starting Life in Another World- - Dragon Suplex

    Hey, wait a minute. I was told this was a dragon suplex! Okay, yes, that is a dragon, and it is getting suplexed. I think we’ve been bamboozled here. In all seriousness, seeing a dragon get suplexed is such a bizarre sight, but a great one. I don’t even think you could utilize an actual dragon suplex — a move invented by Tatsumi Fujinami and currently utilized by Hiroshi Tanahashi and Kenny Omega — because how are you going to lock up a dragon to perform the move? They’d just slip out easily, and then you’d be in some serious trouble! Plus, even being able to use a normal vertical suplex on a dragon would be difficult since they’re so bottom-heavy, meaning you’d really have to use some strength to lift them up and slam them. So, while this is just a regular suplex, it’s still pretty impressive, and maybe one day we’ll get to see an actual dragon take a dragon suplex.

  Ahiru no Sora - Shining Wizard

    Guys in a sports club performing pro-wrestling moves on each other just makes the most sense, especially when you have a group of dudes like the basketball club in Ahiru no Sora. A group of mostly former delinquents who are used to having some knockdown, drag-out fights. Although, I don’t know if I would consider utilizing a Shining Wizard — a strike where you step off an opponent’s knee and slam your knee into their face — in an actual fight.

  The move created by Keiji Mutoh/The Great Muta that’s now used by basically everyone in pro-wrestling is fun to see used in a scuffle between brothers Chiaki and Momoharu early on in the series. Everyone that sees it gets really excited when Chiaki pulls it off as well, and he does so quite effectively. Since we see later on that those two would constantly get into fights growing up, this means the two of them throwing out pro-wrestling moves at one another is probably a common occurrence. The one downside to this is that using a Shining Wizard in an actual basketball game would be a very terrible idea and not something you’d want to try.

  JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure - Argentine Backbreaker

    Apparently Rubber Soul was really into pro-wrestling when he disguised himself as Kakyoin to try and take down a thief. That poor thief didn’t know what was about to happen when he got put into an Argentine Backbreaker Rack — otherwise known as the Torture Rack — to, well, torture the thief. It’s kind of surprising there’s not more random pro-wrestling moves in JoJo given the ridiculous nature of the series and that fact that everyone looks like pro-wrestlers from the 1980s.

  In the world of JoJo though, this move looks absolutely devastating because it looks like Rubber Soul is about to snap this thief’s spine in two just by the amount of torque and pressure he’s putting on his body. That’s probably what would’ve happened if it weren’t for Jotaro coming over to be like, “Hey dude what are you doing?!” Since this is the episode where this imposter Kakyoin does some very weird stuff, it’s safe to say that pro-wrestling is responsible for the famous meme of Kakyoin getting very into licking a cherry.

  This is but a small sample size of various instances where an anime has thrown in some pro-wrestling to shake things up, and I’m sure this will be by no means the last time it happens. As long as pro-wrestling remains popular in Japan and around the world, you’re certain to see at least one of your favorite characters pull off some wild and ridiculous wrestling move. The more that happens, the happier I’ll be, so let’s hope we get to see more pro-wrestling integrated into anime in each upcoming season.

  What are some other instances of pro-wrestling in anime that you believe deserve a shout out? Let us know down in the comments below!

      Jared Clemons is a writer and podcaster for Seasonal Anime Checkup where he can be found always wanting to talk about Love Live! Sunshine!! or whatever else he's into at the moment. He can be found on Twitter @ragbag.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

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