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yanxidarlings · 2 months

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YANDERE LATIN AMERICA

ik ik they aren't canon characters (yet) but i just have some ideas for some fan perceptions of them. i got a lot of inspiration from live journal for their portrayals. honestly this was a lot of fun to write and i might start exploring other non canons characters that have piqued my interest as well.

tw. this toxic as shit, blood, violence, some suggestive themes, my horrid attempts at incorporating spanish into the dialogue if it counts

MEXICO (José Hernández Valdez Martinez)

• José as a yandere is suffocating, to say the least. He never gives his darling a break from his presence. But all he wants to do is be with his amado, is that too much to ask? According to José, it is not. If they try to get even a moment of peace from him he acts as though they've committed a heinous wrongdoing against him. He goes out binge drinking, neglects his responsibilities, isolates himself from others. It gets to the point his brothers will step in, and deliver his darling to him on a silver platter. If they haven't already turned them self in. Does he feel a bit pathetic? Yes. Would he do it again for the same result? In a heartbeat. • He won't allow his darling to have a life of their own. From their national affairs to everyday life, José will ensure he's apart of it all. He wants to be their closest ally and dearest confidant, so anyone who gets in the way of that better start goddamn running. He'll happily sabotage every relationship his darling has to ensure their exclusivity to him. • There's no way to get privacy with José around, he thinks things like boundries are stupid concepts the USA invented. "Don't fall for Alfato's mudo traps" he jokes, but he means every word he says. • Why does his darling need to lock the door when they take showers or take phone calls with their boss in a different room, José takes sourly to any minute attempt at creating a personal space bubble.

the sounds of water rapidly pouring filled josé's ears, usually we take our shower together at 4, his face contorted into confusion. oh well — dinner can wait, he set down the bowl of rice he had been rinsing. "mijo" josé called out, picking at the locked door "why do you always lock it" he groaned, now he had to go get the spare key.

"josé can i just take one shower" they peered out from behind the shower curtain, eyebrows furrowed "you don't have to cover yourself we've showered together before" he began stripping "just one" pushing past them, he let out a yelp as the ice cold water hit him.

"think about how much we're saving the environment by showering together, mijo!" adjusting the tap, he let out a sigh of relief as the water began to warm up. "you've been spending too much time with manuel" they scoffed under their breath, reaching for the conditioner bottle.

josé's eye darkened "and you have been such a weón, as manuel would say, lately" he snatched the conditioner out their grasp, opening up the cap and squirting out product onto his hands. working the conditioner into their hair, they yelped as his nails scratched against their scalp "don't ever think about anyone but me when we're in the shower" he growled under his breath, ignoring their complaints.

VENEZUELA (Carlos Gómez Delgado)

• There are few yandere's as openly manipulative as Carlos. Most yandere's categorised as manipulative do their work from behind the scenes, but Carlos has no problem telling his darling what he thinks to their face. If he's jealous, he makes it known, albeit by trashing the person and his darlings involvement with them until his darling feels too self conscious to interact with anyone he doesn't approve of. At first he describes himself as having paternal or brotherly instincts to protect them, and whilst that is true, a part of them just wants to be able to control their every move. • Out of all of Latin America, he is among the most openly affectionate yandere's; he's always got a hand on their shoulder, he always refers to them as corazón and has no shame in pecking them on the lips in front of others no matter their gender. He doesn't really care if his darling is fond of his affections, nothing they can do will ever get him to stop, so they better get used to it. • Rejecting his "advice" or affection is perhaps the stupidest thing his darling could possibly do. It's no secret he is not to be messed with. He has no qualms about roughing his darling up if it means setting their behaviour straight. • Don't like it when he tackles you to the ground? he used to hug you but apparently that didn't satisfy your highness. Carlos's moods are a ticking time bomb, once his anger wears off he returns to normal as if he didn't just batter the person he claims is his corazón.

they sniffled, hand held up against where he had laid his hand on them. Carlos hated the sight of tears in their eyes but how else would they learn to be appreciative? he studied their expression as they attempted to calm themself, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"are you sorry?" he finally spoke, his amber eyes meeting theirs "what" they breathed out, bewildered. "sorry or not, corazón?" he leaned in closer, furrowing his brows as they flinched away "ahh, it was just a slap, nothing to cry over" they remained still as he brought his hand up to their face, fingers brushing over the reddened skin.

they remained quiet, only the sound of heavy breaths could be heard from them "do you need another one?" he joked, breaking the silence. but carlos wasn't just joking. he'd happily do it again if they didn't speak soon.

his face was unreadable as they hastily shook their head "words, amorcito" he had shifted closer to them, prompting them to finally speak "i.. im sorry" they stuttered out, avoiding his gaze. "good" he placed his lips to their temple, before dragging them to lay down.

ECUADOR (Esteban Fernandez Romero)

• Esteban is subtle, the true extent of his insanity is known to no one but himself. He's a delusional yandere, who see's his relationship with his darling as more than what it is. What might be a cordial friendship to them is a blossoming relationship to Esteban. He craves having someone to himself, he craves the kind of relationship Spain and Romano had back during the empire, he used to think he wanted to have someone to look out for him no matter what he did, but as he becomes more and more entrenched in his obsession, he's found himself wanting to be the macho man for once. • He might despise tedious tasks such as chores, but if it means catching the attention of his darling, he'll grin and bare it. He helps them with whatever task they might need help with, with no qualms, yet they still don't give him the time of day! He hates the fact that he craves their validation and attention as much as he does, but he'd rather be stuck in a room with america for a week than admit it. • Esteban can handle them using him for their own gain but god, please god, don't ignore him. It drives him crazy, which is something you never want to see in a former Spanish colony. He lashes out, drastically changing his behaviour. Esteban isn't afraid to maim or threaten others when he gets like this, even his darling. • There are few situations that would make him do this in public, perhaps in front of his brothers, but behind the privacy of closed doors, so his darling could never convince others about his true nature.

a loud bang was heard from the kitchen, prompting them to come rushing in to see what happened. "este-" "oh now you care" he spat out, blood gashing from his arm, pots and pans that were once cooking on the hot stove on the floor "only when i do something wrong you look away from your paperwork" he glared at them, grabbing another knife and throwing it at the ground, grinning when they flinched.

"maybe i should start doing everything wrong" stumbling past the hot pans and the cutlery littered across the kitchen floor, he made his way closer to them "speak goddammit!" he barked out as they remained silent, staring at him with wide eyes "i- esteban you're bleeding" they slowly pointed towards his arm, which had been completely disgarded in his fit of rage.

he blinked, bringing his afflicted lower arm up to his eyes, before glancing back at them. "do.. do you want me to patch that up.." they quietly asked, stuck making burning eye contact as he came up close to them.

slowly, he snaked his arms around their waist, leaning his head on their shoulder "clean that mess up as well" he spoke into their ear, bringing his injured arm up to their face and dragging it across their visage. as they went to go fetch the first aid, they wiped the blood from their cheeks.

PERU (Miguel Alejandro Prado)

• It's impossible to see through Miguel and realise his true intentions until it's too late, but under it all he's the most obsessive of the bunch. Unlike others, his darling won't have even the faintest idea of the dark thoughts he harbours towards them. He's Miguel, when he flirts it's nothing but niceties, when he insists on accompanying them wherever they may be going, it's just him being social. It's hard for his darling to tell him to go away when he's such good company, but if they did they would come to find out the true extent he's willing to go for them. • Miguel is honestly just content being in his darling's life, he doesn't feel the need to have a specific label on the relationship, as long as he has a place in their heart, his obsession will go unnoticed. He's apply to be their prince in shining armour and work behind the shadows for them. They don't have to thank him, they just have to love him. • Which is why he simply couldn't handle it if they ever tried to distance themselves. He won't leave them alone, he won't let them get that far. He'll drag them back kicking and screaming if he has to. "oh i just hadn't seen you in a while querido" He chuckles, scratching his neck. He simply invites himself back into their life. • Afterwards, he'll find himself craving to know every detail about them. They can't even go get a glass of water without telling him. He's breathing down their neck at every turn, regardless if they want him there or not.

the door creaked open, miguel tried to avoid making a sound but god was not on his side tonight. testing their reaction, he sighed in relief as they remained asleep. slowly closing the door behind him, it made another unholy crackle, causing his cariño to shift in their sleep. mierda, he cursed internally, gripping on to his pillow.

turning over to face the wall, miguel grimanced "move" he whispered under his breath, trying to coax his darling's sleeping body to face him. what was the point of sleeping next to them if he couldn't admire their beautiful face?

grumbling quietly, miguel slowly approached the bed, placing his pillow next to their head, and gradually sinking down on to the bed. don't wake up don't wake up don't, their eyes opened at the sudden mocement "miguel" they whined, shifting to face him again "i thought we could have a sleep over" he smiled toothily, making himself comfortable.

"we had one last night" they deadpanned, half asleep, definitely displeased to have been awoken "and the night before" miguel only grinned at their words "and now tonight as well!"

BRAZIL (Luciano da Silva)

• Few would expect Luciano to be as clingy as he is. He himself could he the ideal target for a yandere. But what they forget is that he was raised by Portugal and Spain. Not to mention it's always the unassuming ones. As a pretty major world power, he's rather co-dependent on his darling, in matters of country and personal. That's what started it all; his darling always does so much for him, it would be absolutely horrible if he ever didn't have them! It starts off as wanting to make sure his darling liked him enough to stay by him, and turned into an obsession with making sure he is the only one his darling cares about. • He takes up all their time to acheive this, can't go off with other countries when they're stuck helping him with his paperwork, can they? and by helping they're actually doing all the work, but Luciano made sure to prepare snacks and he'll take them out for drinks once they're done! At first he's content having them during working hours until he can't see them when they return home back to their own lives. He should be their entire life. He'll convince them into fulfilling just about every one of his responsibilities, using the excuse "isn't it so great to have so much influence over a country as big as mine" • Sure they do all the important stuff but he promises to repay them in other ways. It's best to just take the bait, Luciano doesn't respond well to rejection. His temperament become abominably clear when his darling rejects his company. He doesn't lash out physically, not yet, but he says some truly vile things, makes some threats, it's disturbing. And the worst part is no one believes his darling if they try to tell others about his true nature. • He's a submissive yandere if his darling doesn't attempt to pull away. He doesn't mind complying with demands or being bossed around, as long as they want him. He can handle anything but rejection.

"querido! what do you think" luciano marched into the study, not caring the slightest that he was disrupting the others work "looks good" they tapped their pen against the paper, in deep thought as they examined the words "you didn't even look!" he skipped up to the desk and snatched the pen out of their grip

with their attention now, luciano did a spin "tada!" he smiled widely "i've seen you wear your soccer uniform hundreds of times" they quickly stood up, trying to chase him down for the pen, but he only kept moving away "football — how many times do i have to explain! and look closer" he held the pen up high in air as they tried to retake it "you forgot to shower?" covering their mouth and nose with a hand, they stepped back.

he shook his head, a laugh escaping his lips "no, it's a new jersey, the colours are brighter" he pointed out the minute details, ignoring the look of unamusement on his darling's face. "just giv-" they quickly reached for the pen whilst his hands were down, only for him to use the opportunity to drag them closer, up against his chest "you left me a mountain of paperwork to do i'm busy!"

his smile fell; they were being difficult again. "you can't take a moment to admire me?" within seconds, he flashes them a cheeky grin. before they could explode into anger, he leaned in and pecked them on the lips, before running out "you can get your frustration out later after the match, good luck with the paperwork!"

BOLIVIA (Julio Paz)

• Julio is overwhelmingly possessive of his darling. He doesn't like to sound dramatic, but they're the only person that really matters to him. The only person he gives a damn about. So the least they can do is stop fucking talking to that ingrato spain or even looking at the likes of the USA. He's as bad as Manuel when it comes to isolating his darling from the outside world. They have him, why do they need other allies or friends, if they're that desperate he'll let them invite one of his brothers over but don't you dare think about associating with the likes of europe or asia. It pisses him off to no end when they go frolicking off with other nations, why isn't he enough?! • He isn't particularly open about his jealous and possessive tendencies, at least not at first, all he can really do is pout and give his darling the silent treatment — but he'll never tell them what he's upset about "no, don't worry about me nobody else does" he isn't afraid to use whatever card he has to subtly pull to guilt his darling into compliance. • Overtime, Julio will get more and more comfortable with expressing his discontent towards his darling, oh you went for tea with england? shame his boss decided to go with chile for that trade deal and not his darling's country. huh, apparently spain visited you the other day? and you let him into your house? what a clutz he is forgetting to turn the burner off when he was using his darling's stove to cook tucumenas. • His darling will find themselves not bothering to leave his side anymore, what good does it do them? or running for the hills, either way, there's no shaking him. Once he's become obsessed there's no getting free.

"aye!" julio barked. what a wonderful day it had been, enjoying a sleep in and then going motorcycling in the streets of la paz, only to come home to his darling packing their bags. "what do you think you're doing" storming in, he began throwing their things out the suitcase, ignoring their yells to stop.

"julio, im moving out" in a stern voice, they stood their ground, gripping his hands so he couldn't continue making a mess of their belonging "oh? you think you're too good for me now that gringo wants to be friends with you, huh"

he ripped his arm out of their grip, shoving them onto the bed "i can't live with you twenty four seven, i have a country to help run!" he wasn't listening to their arguments, he was tipping the rest of the contents of the suitcase on to the floor "julio!" they stood up only to get slammed into the bed, unable to move under his weight.

"maybe that ingrato had the right idea, maybe the only way to keep you in line is to lock you up" he stared deeply into their eyes as he spoke, he finally understood what spain had always said, if you wanted something you had to take it.

ARGENTINA (Martin Hernandez)

• Of all of Latin America, and perhaps the world, Martin is the most unpredictable yandere out there. His darling is constantly left on the edge; one moment he will seem to like them, only for the next to be filled with audacious humour that attacks their character. To his darling, he is a self absorbed man who they prefer to keep at arms length. To Martin, his darling is the menace that lives rent free in his head. He tells himself he thinks they're a boludo, a forro, a chamuyero, a careta, a sorete, every offensive pelotudo under the sun, he'd describe his darling with. • Yet he seems to reserve shitting on his darling as his sole right. Anyone else who tries something similar instantly gets the third degree because who the hell do they think they are. Lovino once went on about Martin's darling being some sort of bastard and got swiftly kicked where the sun doesn't shine. Martin passed it off as drunken rage, but it wasn't an isolated incident. He'd pick fights with the other latin american nations who his darling was having troubles with, of course it always has nothing to do with his darling he was just mad Luciano snubbed him from winning the world cup, that's all, "stop thinking everything's about you". • Martin is highly insecure on how his darling perceives him. When his delusion that they mean jack shit to him starts to fade, he's left with the reality that they see him as a royal jerkwad. Surely they still appreciate how attractive and intelligent and talented he is, right?! • He'll start to look for opportunities to show off — he'll overdress whenever he knows he might run into them, subtly get one of his brothers to drag them to his football games, so they can see how ripped and athletic he is, and.. y'know, he might just trip them over so he can show off his medical skills.

with an oomph, they fell to the ground, descending the stair at a rapid pace, one that would surely not uphold the ligaments in their ankle's, at the very least. "aye, pelotudo!" martin yelled from the top of the stairwell, tattering down the steps hastily, as if he hadn't been the one to put his foot in front of theirs, causing the aforementioned fall.

"are you trying to seduce the ground now" he ragged on, squatting down to their level, gripping on to their arm and dragging them to an upright position. a groan of pain left their lips, which sounded a bit too pleasing to martin. letting out a chuckle "what sort of boludo are you, falling down stairs, are you seven?" he examined their bruised limbs.

with a click of his tongue, he slid his arms under their legs and behind their back, hoisting them up with him. "i can walk-" "sure you can, you overgrown baby" he leg their legs fall to the ground, making contact with a loud crack he winced as they let out a cry of pain. maybe that was a bit harsh he mused to himself as he picked them up once more.

"see? useless bebito" he had this smug look on his face as he peered down at them. they diverted their gaze. "it's okay, i'll take you back to my place and put some ointment on, then tomorrow i'll take you in for an x-ray, bueno?"

CHILE (José Manuel González Rodríguez)

• Manuel can best be characterised as an isolating yandere. Once in his grasps, his darling can say goodbye to their social life. It's not that he's overwhelming and takes up all their time, his darling has plenty of free time with him, it's just that there's always a reason they can't leave. Whether it be dangerous wind currants preventing his darling from returning to their country, him or his darling suddenly falling ill, his boss wants to discuss a new treaty between he and his darling, and on and on. • He would never be caught openly admitting to his tendencies towards his darling. If they were to ever confront him about the isolation he tries to impose, he'd go straight to gaslighting: "maybe it's you who's isolating me, have you thought about that". He himself is in denial, and genuinely thinks it's his darling's own fault he's so enamoured. If they didn't want to be stuck with him they would just leave. He's not exactly America, he can't stop them. • That's what he tells himself, until they take his advice and distance them self from him. Something in him snaps. His only friend thinks they can just pick up and leave? Well shit, maybe he is the obsessed one. • Manuel is quick to break into their house. He'll say he's just paying them a visit, that's what friends do. But his intentions are clear, and his darling comes out of the night shaken up to say the least.

"uhh, manuel?" they chuckled nervously "it's eight at night — shouldn't you be in chile?" they scrunched their nose, something they always did when they were nervous. manuel would know, he'd observed everything about them.

he took a step closer but they took a step back. was it the blank look on his face? manuel tried smiling, but his cariño only seemed more uncomfortable. "am i not allowed to pay you a visit, weón" he tched, backing them up against the wall. he followed their eyes but they avoided his gaze "aye" he grabbed their chin "mucho mejor" he muttered under his breath, their eyes now meeting his.

his face leaned in closer until his lips dance above theirs, hand still sturdy on their chin "manuel" they managed to squeak out from the pressure of his fingers against their jaw "just — let go please" he surpressed a growl, letting his hand fall from their visage.

that same hand took ahold of their arm, dragging them along with him "manuel!" he ignored them "whatever i did im sorry!" he pushed into the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

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meitoscringe · 7 months

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Venezuela traditional clothes!!

(read below for extra information)

Here's a small simplified guide to Venezuelan traditional clothing

1- Region de los llanos: the first set of clothes (left to right) are known as the face of Venezuela but technically they originate from the "Region de los llanos".

The first 2 outfits are called liqui liqui, they're the national outfit of Venezuela and can be worn both by men and women.

traditionally they're very simple and light colored but nowadays they come in many different forms. The other 2 dresses have no name but are known as "falda llanera" or "traje típico de joropo" and are used to dance!

They can be any color and often have flower patterns on them.

2- Region capital: this is the region were the capital is situated. The men here wear liqui liquis or simple outfits (like the one I drew).

The women's clothing is named "Dama antoñona", there's different versions of this costume but they're all rather European looking

Historically they used to be worn by high ranking rich women but nowadays they're more of a carnival thing

Region Zuliana: once again, the men wear rather simple looking clothes or a version of the liqui liqui. The women wear "mantas guajiras"

Originally the manta guajira was only the Wayuu peoples's traditional wear, a native American group found in the guajira (land shared between Colombia and Venezuela), but with time the clothing started being worn by the zulians as well.

4- Region andina: this region is the coldest in Venezuela. Men wear a sort of poncho called "Ruana" the women's clothes have no name.

The dress that I drew in the middle is sometimes used to dance, here's an example

youtube

I've mainly seen it worn by kids tho xd

A few extra things:

-There's more regions but this 4 are the most important ones/the ones that inspired the rest. The Last 2 clothes are an example

-although I gave all the Chibis cowboy hats, we have multiple different types. Those are the most popular ones but if you need a reference for hats feel free to ask lol

-i didn't draw shoes. We do have traditional shoes but I was too tired to draw them. Once again if anyone needs a reference for them ask

-this one is kinda of a no duh, but majority of this clothes aren't worn every day and are only used for patriotism, dances or festivals.

#I'm so tired #i hope this is helpful #Venezuelan traditional clothing is documented like shit omfg #My hand hurts so much #Hetalia #aph #hws #hetalia venezuela #aph venezuela #hws venezuela #Hetalia oc #historical hetalia #?#This is technically historical ig #Watch this shit flop lol #It's ok #I did this for me and I'm very happy #meitoswords

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twrambling · 29 days

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Really late Barbies and kens ❤️

Argentina oc belongs to @m4ruk4ts

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another-mexico-oc · 2 months

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Buenas noches! Seguramente en otros países el Día de San Valentín ya se terminó, pero en México todavía falta una hora, así que todavía estoy a tiempo 😁 Espero que hayan tenido un gran día 😊 /

Good evening! Surely in other countries Valentine's Day is already over, but in Mexico there is still an hour left, so I'm still on time 😁 Hope you had a great day 😊

💘

( Si gustas puedes rebloguear🔄 este post, pero por favor NO reposteés mi trabajo en otras páginas web y redes sociales sin permiso previo. / You can reblog🔄 this post, but please don´t repost my work on other websites and social media without previous permission. )

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m4ruk4ts · 2 months

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@meitoscringe's venezuela (lolo) is my favorite scrunkly :3 ft. the argvene besties!!! (las creaturas)

#hetalia #hetalia argentina #aph argentina #hws argentina #hetalia oc #oc x canon #hetalia venezuela #aph venezuela #hws venezuela #my art #i'd give up my life for lolo #:sobs:

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where-the-sabia-sings · 2 months

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Manuela and Alba fueled a rivalry between them, which made no sense outside this dynamic of South American women, after all, the two equally shared the burden of being the only ones in these parts. The upbringing was practically the same as Antônio and João did not differ so much in terms of values (and prejudices) when it came to raising their daughters.

Manu always saw her cousin as someone reckless and delusional, she walked around hallucinations of greatness, as if the world of the 19th century cared about her uncle’s children, while she remained integrated in her own unit. She didn't indulge in foolish adventure and would rather stay away from others than get involved in a civil war looking for a utopia that would never come out of Bolívar's dreams.

Funny that it was in this contradiction that they both most reflected their parents, both in their dreams and in their crude details.

[PT]

Manuela e Alba alimentavam uma rivalidade entre elas, e que não fazia sentido fora dessa dinâmica de mulheres sul-americanas, afinal as duas compartilhavam igualmente o fardo de serem as únicas por estas bandas. A criação era praticamente a mesma pois Antônio e João não diferiam muito dos valores (e preconceitos) quando se tratava da criação das filhas.

Manu sempre encarou a prima como inconsequente e delirante, andava de um lado para o outro com alucinações de grandeza, como se o mundo do século XIX se importasse com os rebentos de seu pai, enquanto ela se mantinha integra na sua unidade, não se metia em aventuras tolas, prefiria se afastar dos outros do que se enfiar numa guerra civil procurando uma utopia que jamais sairia dos sonhos de Bolívar.

Engraçado que foi nessa contradição que ambas mais refletiam seus pais, tanto nos sonhos como nas miudezas toscas

#hws spain #aph spain #hws portugal #aph portugal #hetalia #latin hetalia #latin girls #hws brazil #aph venezuela #lh brazil #aph brazil #lh venezuela #hws venezuela #latin america

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squad-usavene · 5 months

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HEY YO' ✨

Guess who's back? Back again~ ✨

ESTO ES UN PROGRAMA EN ESPAÑOL /le da hueva traducir.

Me complace anunciar que estamos de vuelta, con nueva fecha, nuevo formato y nuevo nombre (porque venus suena mucho mejor, ¿no creen?)

Sin más preámbulo...

LA SEGUNDA VERSIÓN DE LA VENUS WEEK ESTÁ AQUÍ 🇺🇲❤️🇻🇪

Del 11 al 17 de diciembre con 7 temas opcionales por día (aunque serán obligatorios si quieres ganar premios, más info de esto más adelante.¿)

✨¿Qué es esto?✨

Pues, varias parejas tienen una semana especial para subir contenido de ella, ¿por qué no darle una a estos dos? No seremos muchos sus fans, pero acá estamos y yo estoy dispuesta a hacer lo que sea para expandirla y ese es precisamente el objetivo de este evento. ♡

Por supuesto es un evento por y para el fandom de #Hetalia y su subfandom #LatinHetalia. Se pueden usar cualquier versión de la ship; Nyo, 2P y Nyo 2P. También se pueden mezclar nyos con 1Ps, 2Ps y 1Ps. ¡Todo vale!

Pero si gustas usar un diseño alterno de alguna de las representaciones o incluso tienes el tuyo propio, también puedes utilizarlo en tus aportes. ✨

La lista de prompts fue escogida por votación en Discord y sugiere un tema por día para la realización de cualquier tipo de fanwork.

Si bien cumplir con los temas por día es opcional y de hecho es posible hacer aportes con temas que no están en la lista, quizás recibas una sorpresa por cumplir con todos... ~

Los fanworks o aportes pueden ser de cualquier tipo: fan arts, one-shots, edits, playlist, etc. Cualquier cosa sirve y no hace falta hacer algo muy detallado. Incluso un sketch o un drabble de 100 palabras sirve (aunque esto no se aplique para competir por la posibilidad de ganar uno de los premios), lo importante es participar. ✨

¡Pero eso no es todo!

Sí, ya lo vieron, tenemos premios.

Si bien el evento quiere ampliar el contenido de la ship, desde la administración queremos premiar tu esfuerzo al participar otorgándole un premio a aquellas personas que logren uno de los tres objetivos que serán explicados más a detalle a continuación✨

🏆 Mayor cantidad de aportes.

Este premio será otorgado a aquella persona que lo de todo por el evento y realice más aportes que los demás. No hay un número específico ya que depende de cuántos aportes reciba el evento, pero deberían ser más de 7.

Para este además tenemos dos categorías:

Mayor cantidad de aportes en fanart y mayor cantidad de aportes en fanfiction, así tanto artistas como escritores tienen la oportunidad de ganar✨.

Se está revisando la posibilidad de hacer una tercera categoría, la de mayor cantidad de aportes en "mixed media", o sea, que se podía premiarse a aquella persona cuyos aportes no sean de un solo tipo. Todo depende de cómo se termine de desarrollar el evento.

🏆 Maratonista.

Este será entregado a aquella persona que cumpla con la lista entera de prompts para la week en regla, ¿Qué quiere decir esto? Pues no debe saltarse ni un día y entregar su aporte antes de que el mismo acabe.

A diferencia del anterior, acá puede haber más de un ganador, pero seremos mucho más exigentes con el tiempo y la forma de los fanworks.

Para que un aporte cuente debe seguir los siguientes parámetros:

🎨En caso de fanart.

Independientemente del medio (tradicional o digital) preferiblemente debería ser un dibujo acabado, no necesita contar con muchísimo detalle, pero que no sea solo un sketch (hasta los sketch coloreados son válidos).

📝 En caso de fanfic.

Debe tener al menos 800 palabras.

Otros tipos de aportes no serán contemplados en esta categoría.

La entrega debe realizarse antes de que termine el día. La administración se maneja con el horario de Chile (GMT-3), pero para dar más tiempo se tomará en cuenta el huso horario GMT-6 que corresponde al de Ciudad de México.

Y último pero no por eso menos importante:

🏆 Fan favorite.

Este también se divide en dos categorías (porque la admin se odia).

La primera es el voto del público y se premiará al aporte que tenga más likes.

La segunda es del gusto personal de la administración, sin mucha ciencia detrás.

En ambas se tomarán en cuenta tanto fanart como fanfic, así que al final podrán haber cuatro ganadores (porque la admin se odia x2).

⚠️Los premios en todas las categorías corresponderán a un fanart o fanfic a elección del ganador hecho por la admin de esta cuenta (mis redes @mjxtsukino en todos lados¿)

Se avisará si alguien más quiere donar premios, pero por mientras todo cae sobre mis hombros, sí (?).

¡No olviden usar el hashtag! Espero se animen 💕

#hetalia #latin hetalia #lh: venezuela #aph america #hws america #usavene #hetalia venus #aph united states #venusweek2023 #usaveneweek #aph venzuela

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someone-online · 25 days

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me on mobile 😭

RIP IM SORRY 😭😭😭

#asks #ask-my-aph-venezuela #boop #yeah i dont think you can super boop or evil boop on mobile </3

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kaimaciel · 2 years

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hi i'm just curious do you think that Portugal is related to others country than spain i mean if you count rome relationship with Portugal as an adoption (even if the relationship was estranged does it make the romance countries as a family (the italien brother of course but also France (and maybe romania) and there andorra i headcanon spain and andorra sibling like Monaco and France but i don't know for andorra and Portugal (there also Al-andalus ) and there his kids from the communityof portuguese language country ( adopted or not idk but seem to be a chaotic but lovely bunch either way) (and azores and madeira) or do you see Portugal family three as just iberia, spain and the lussophone country ? (And maybe rome) (btw is Uruguay his favorite nephew ?) (Sorry if it's too long i was curious about his family three and ended up rambling)

I think countries' blood ties don't work like humans, they are related by culture and love rather than blood.

The Romance family is a family through the Roman Empire, but they are not all brothers. I like to think Portugal and Spain are brothers, and the Italian brothers are more like distant cousins, same with France and Romania.

Andorra I wouldn't say is Portugal's brother, but it's definitely related to Spain.

Al-Andalus I hc as a foster father of the Iberian brothers.

The rest of the Lusophone countries, they are all brothers and sisters to each other, but not all of them are Port's kids, namely the older ones like Angola and Mozambique, they are adopted family. Macau is an adopted son since he was given by China and then returned.

I think Port considers the Hispanics from the LatAm his nephews, though he's not very close to most of them since he doesn't know them very well. His favorite is Uruguay, who actually got to live with him and Brazil, with Argentina and Venezuela as a close second.

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one0p1nk · 2 months

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“Hey pins- are these ships romantic? Or Platonic?”

“Yes.” :)

//I just want them to vibe with her, man/ih

#pins’ art #hetalia alfred f jones #hetalia fanart #hetalia oc #hetalia america #hetalia #hetalia england #hetalia arthur kirkland #aph venezuela #aph america #aph england

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monvria · 2 years

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Amor de loca juventud.

Advertencia: Temática de infidelidad. Uso de violencia.

Resumen: A María no le hace ni p*ta gracia lo que sucede entre ella y su pareja.

____________________________________________________________________

María Páez no habrá nacido en cuna de oro, ni ser de alta alcurnia, pero tenía un dote aristócrata. Modales impecables, buen gusto al vestir, sabía leer el ambiente y amoldarse a ello; carismática y buena conversadora; “lengua de seda” como dicen por ahí. Era coqueta también, pero de un coqueteo de tono maduro en vez de jovial. Que gracioso pues que no supieran que la mujer en cuestión ha salido de un barrio maloso, un gueto, de un barracón de cemento y madera de dos pisos que, en cierta área, mejor no pisar sino quieres quebrarte una pierna o directamente caer a la planta baja. O que dicho barracón se quedaba pequeño puesto a que vivían cinco personas dentro de él. Que la privacidad brillaba por su ausencia y que era un tanto difícil mantener conversación alguna sin que se intercalara la habladuría ajena a la suya.

Pero a María esto no le paraba ni le hacía reflexionar. Así nació y no le importa. No le importa porque de forma magistral llegaba y alcanzaba lo que quería, cuando lo quería y cómo lo quería. Ahora ¿Era esto lo que ella quería? Porque, por supuesto, quién quiere estar añingotada en la cajuela de un Lada 1600 porque le han chivateado que su pareja le anda dando cuerno con otra. Oh, Dios ¡Oh Dios Dios! Porque sí, porque a María no se le ocurrió mejor forma de espiar a su pareja que meterse de infraganti en la cajuela de su auto solo para confirmar lo que todo el mundo chismea tras sus espaldas.

Siendo honesta consigo misma, quizás debió de pensar que era algo que podía sucederle tarde o temprano. No fue muy inteligente de su parte irse a vivir con alguien que solo conoció y salió con él durante un año y ya, ni mucho menos que, antes de eso, quedase embarazada de ese mismo hombre y le haya salido un vástago totalmente sano. ¡Tampoco piense mal! Porque ella, quieran o no, buena madre es y ama a Aaron más que a su vida, pero que fue tonto todo lo sucedido pues. . . es un hecho, no hay más.

Entonces. . . ¡El Lada, por supuesto! Le han contado que le andan poniendo cuernos y para más añadidura en su propio auto. La arrechera que agarró fue increíble. Pero así como puede ser un fosforito también da paso a una mentalidad más fría y entre sus barajas, para detectar de una vez si era cierto o no, nada mejor que meterse en el propio auto. Así que aquí estamos, o está mejor dicho, ha estado media hora en la cajuela y ya las nalgas se han puesto cuadradas de esperar. El maletero huelo feo, a rata muerta, y ahora sabe que lo debe limpiar o mandarlo con un tercero para eso. El auto es viejo, y claro, de segunda mano, así que no le debe sorprender que ahí donde está haga más calor que en el propio sol; le está dañando el cabello y ya sabe que después de esto debe de llamar a Blanca para ver si tiene cupo libre el lunes para que le haga sus cosas en la cabeza y le arregle este desastre.

Van ya cuarenta minutos de rodada y nada que para el auto, al menos, que sepa que está recogiendo alguien o estacionando en un lugar. Ahora que lo piensa, si es lo segundo, no sabe cómo ir entorno a ello. Quizás no fue muy inteligente meterse en la cajuela para eso. Pero por la gracia de Dios, porque hoy está bendecida aunque sea un poco, ya a los cincuenta minutos de rodada ha parada y ha recogido a alguien. Es mujer, obvio, y le habla a Arthur de forma melosa. Demasiada melosa. Más melosa de lo que le habla ella a él. Y él otro se ríe, ríe jovial tal como reía con ella hace tres años atrás.

Han estado juntos cuatro años y conoce el patrón, ese patrón que sabe cuándo está disfrutando el momento y cuando no. ¿Mas esto es suficiente para confirmar el hecho? Puede que no, sino fuera que la otra, por referirnos a la segunda muchacha, ya le anda diciendo que conoce un nuevo motel y que es bonito y barato y le gustaría ir a él. Y acá está María, bien arrecha y re contra arrecha y que si pudiera le hubiera sacado la glock en cero coma a ambos. Lástima que ella no tenga una glock y esté en la cajuela del auto.

A la hora de rodada, por fin, el auto para y acá se vislumbra una oportunidad a María, oportunidad para encararle a Arthur que por qué de la infidelidad y que si es idiota y a la otra, no sabe, quizás decirle que es puta o algo así, para dejarle claro que también catará de su rabia. Pero a María se le ha ocurrido algo mejor, algo que sin duda, aunque de forma colateral se humillará, lo hará más con Arthur. La otra se puede ir al infierno, en cambio, ya le da igual y ojalá ese pipisíto la satisfaga hoy.

Así que una vez ambos tortolos hayan entrado al motel, ella, María, por fin salió de la jodida cajuela del Lada y puede estirar los pies y manos, traquear dos que tres hueso y pedir un taxi como si nada. «¿Por qué huele a muerto, señorita?» «No pregunte y lléveme donde le dije».

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María tiene todo planeado para hoy. Sabe a dónde caer muerta y según ella su plan no presenta fisura alguna. Al niño de sus ojos, Aaron, le ha dejado con alguno de sus hermanos, específicamente con Francisco, quien como acompaña a su madre en el kiosko de su propia propiedad tiene suficiente tiempo como para vigilarle al niño sin que esté jodiendo por ahí y por allá. Con Andrés no, que andará trabajando en lo que sea que trabaje, si hoy es de mecánico mañana es de salonero y pasado quizás quebrándole los brazos a alguien por un mango de billete y ya para el martes quizás le esté enseñando gramática a un chiquillo del barrio. Rodrigo más de lo mismo, solo que por la tarde anda de crupier en un casino estafándole a saber a cuántos chinos y sino andará jugándole a la ruleta o a las cartas porque el vicio le puede y hay que maldecirle al chino de la calle, Yao, por haberle enseñado a contar cartas y sabérsela en el Bacarat al hombre; al menos trae plata a la casa de madre y hasta donde se sabe aún no ha apostado su riñón para seguir con la chinguía.

Entonces María ha parado en La República, cantina-bar icónica del barrio y que sabe que a Arthur le gusta pasar aquí debes en cuando. Ha pensado en eso, que a su pareja le gusta beber como poseso y que a veces, en ciertas semanas, estaba más borracho que sobrio y acá le viene un recuerdo vívido de sus hermanos haciéndole hincapié a eso y ella increpándoles a los tres con qué moral pueden hablar de ello. Vaya que no fue inteligente en ligarse a Arthur, pero ella es una romántica o, mejor dicho, le gusta que le romancen y para rematar le chifla los rubios y éste no era cualquier rubio sino europeo. Vaya que sí le habrá comida el coco el inglés porque por menos mandó a la mierda al gringo y ahora hela acá, cuatro años con un borrachín, malvividor (porque, aunque pueda pensar lo contrario, es María que con su trabajo de dependiente en almacén trae más plata a casa que Arthur trabajando en lo que sea que trabaje) y pone cuernos.

Pero lo que sea. Ha entrado a La República y casi que todos han parado de hacer lo que estaban haciendo solo para dirigirle las miradas. Ella ha pillado a Arthur que, como buen borracho, le gusta la barra del bar pero no cualquier barra, sino la que da al balcón, viendo entonces al parquecito de enfrente y vidajeneando de lo que pasa, y ya llevaba más de seis botellas y parece no querer parar. No se ha dado de cuenta que María ya está detrás de él y que vienen bajando fuego porque María, mal que pese, sabe hacer espectáculo y dar buen show.

—¡PERO ERES UN HIJO DE PUTA!— Ha gritado María, sin ascos ni medias tintas, porque ella quiere que todos los presenten sepan quién es Arthur Kirkland y qué le ha hecho —¡Condenado adultero!—

A Arthur la increpación de la mujer le agarró con las defensas en baja, y no ayuda que esté medio entonado por lo que lleva libado. Ve a María y no capta porqué le dice eso. Quiere pararlo, porque no quiere ser partícipe de un show, pero no sabe cómo. Pero la respuesta del porqué tiene a una bestia frente suyo se le aclara cuando hace mención de una mujer, que la llevó ayer a un motel, en su propio auto, y qué fue esa desfachatez.

—¡Coño pero mejor hubiera salido hasta con un maricón! ¡Si ni hombres eres y acá quieres dártela de pulcro y machón!

—María, qué. . .

—Qué de qué. ¿No entiendes o qué? Que te he visto. Que has usado mi auto. Que tu hijo te vale mil hectáreas de mierda y más. Que eres un chupatero que solo sabe vivir a costilla de uno.

Y siguió y siguió, reprendiéndole más y más al inglés, porque si ha esperado una noche y medio día es para liberar todo lo que se ha guardado, no solo lo de ayer, sino fechas anteriores cuando esta relación no daba para más (¡Qué razón tuvo sus hermanos, Dios!).

Pero Arthur no quiere quedarse así, recibiendo injurias y calumnias, o eso cree él; quiere defender el honor (si es que le queda algo) y entonces, ya parado del taburete alto, le increpa a María y usa el «tú más» como contrapunto a todo lo dicho por ella. Borrachitos de La República y otras faunas han quedado callados ante el entretenimiento, y solo es cuando alguno de los dos da tremendo estoque al otro que suelen balbucear alguna frase de aliento para tal o cual.

Aunque lo cierto es lo siguiente: Arthur perderá. Porque Arthur no tiene buena fama entre la gente, es pedante y borracho impertinente; es un extranjero que quiso jugar al Indiana Jones en Sudamérica y se topado con tremendo palo en este callejoncito. Claro está, tampoco ayuda que María sea hija de la Sra. Gómez, aunque no comparta apellido con dicha señora, es madre suya y regenta su kiosko en el barrio y es la única que da fiado y perdona deudas pequeñas. Entonces, por extensión, la quieren también a ella en el barrio y quitando a las trillizas Kayra, Robine y Monique nadie le tose encima.

Entonces Arthur, para seguir perdiendo puntos entre los espectadores, no se le ha ocurrido mejor acción que alzarle la mano a María y ésta a grito parejo se lo hace ver y sigue insultándole a hora por eso.

__________

Madre mía que Gregorio no lo puede creer. Ha venido a La República pasar una tarde amena entre guaro y ron, y charlar y jugar al dominó, pero jamás se le ocurrió presenciar este show. Porque Gregorio, como los otros, conoce a María y su novio, y sabía cómo los otros el chimesote que involucraba a los dos. ¿Pero de ahí a ver, en vivo y directo, la caretas caídas y la sacada de mierda verbal que María le daba al otro? ¡Para nada! Y como tal, debe compartirlo con alguien.

—¿Aló? Blanca, vea. . .

—¿Qué pasó? ¿Ya te aburriste de Amaya o qué?

—¿Aún sigues con eso? Ya te dije que con ella nada, tú que te haces películas en la cabeza.

—A ver, que las paredes hablan y me han contado cuentos que tú con ella.

—Tú, mejor que nadie, debes saber que chismes son chismes y. . .

—¡Ay idiota! No serán cien por cien ciertos pero algo de verdad tienen.

—¡Si supiera que me vas a estar acusando de cosas que ni ton si non, ya le digo yo que podemos dejarlo aquí!

—¡Entonces es cierto pues!

—¡Ay ya cállese! Mira, eso lo resolvemos después, yo. . .

—Y sigue el burro. Dale, anda, ya terminemos.

—Ya, ya. Escúcheme, que estoy acá en La República. . .

—Sí, sí, ya sabemos que te encanta el lugar y que has ganado no sé cuánto en dominó y. . .

—¡QUE A MARÍA EN VERDAD LE PUSIERON LOS CUERNOS Y ANDA ACÁ INCREPÁNDOSELO A ARTHUR!

—¡Y POR QUÉ NO ME DICE! ¡NO SEA IDIOTA Y PONGA EL CELULAR EN ALTAVOZ!

Y Gregorio cumplió, pero. . .

—¡Y NO SEA IDIOTA POR DOS! Siempre lleva dos celulares, al otro póngale en cámara y grabe.

Y así hizo. Porque tiene razón la pelopinta’a, cómo no se le ocurrió sacar su celular de respaldo, aquel que está listo para entregar por si acaso lo asaltan, para tener un vídeo de primicia ante el hecho ocurrido frente suyo. Porque Blanca será lo que quiere que sea, pero es su mejor amiga y amante e independiente del qué es como su propia cruz que cargará siempre y compañera de chismes, por supuesto, porque Dios los crea y el Diablo los junta.

__________

María ya le ha soltado el rubio todo lo que le quería decir. Y cuando es todo es todo. Desde lo idiota que es, mal hombre, mal padre «¿Cómo carajos puedes ser proveedor?» Que si no le daba vergüenza que fuera ella quien le comprara los calzoncillos, que le prestara el auto para ir a trabajar, que incluso más de una vez le dio dinero para sus vicios. En fin. Pero aunque Arthur le ha alzado la mano más de una vez a María aquí en La República, fui incapaz de hacerle daño, más por sentirse intimidado que por cualquier cosa; porque ese rubio borracho igual es medio manofloja.

María ya lo deja, ahí en ese chiquero. Ella tiene lugar donde caer muerta, recuerden, y da igual si debe volver a compartir casa con cuatro más ella y su niño; su familia, independiente del qué, siempre le ha sido de apoyo aunque uno esté que quiera y no pueda, el otro anda en vainas raras y el tercero como que le gusta el chanchullo y dinero de dudosa legalidad. Pero siempre han estado ahí para con ella y ya se saben el cuento.

Arthur en cambio es el verdadero batiguay, desprovisto de todo, hasta de su hijo, quien María dejó en claro que no lo va a ver (total, ya para estas alturas ni atención le prestaba) y que se puede caer muerto en alguna cuneta de por ahí, claro, con amabilidad, que si puede ser muy amable de caerse en alguna cuneta o quebrada ponzoñosa de por ahí, por favor y gracias.

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Ha sido un día de mierda, eso es lo primero que se le viene a la cabeza a Arthur. Quizás, después de lo sucedido en La República, debió dejar de beber e irse de ahí, pero quiso seguir libando solo que no ahí y se largó a una cantina a unas cuadras más arriba. Ya es de noche y no tiene ni un duro en el bolsillo, su celular al parecer lo olvidó en casa y si quiere un taxi, porque sabe que ningún taxi lo irá a buscar donde estaba chupando, tiene que bajar a saber cuántas cuadras para que lo recojan.

En eso que baja y baja, y el camino se le hace eterno (quizás porque anda más borracho que en su cabales y dar dos pasos el frente constituye tres pasos atrás), ve a alguien que viene frente suyo. Se pone en alerta, sabe que para la hora que es, más allá de las nueve de la noche, que venga alguien de la calle directo a él es más peligro que otra cosa. Pero éste le llama la atención. Hay algo. . . quizás es el rostro, se le hace familiar a alguien y a otra persona; ese hombre que le viene de frente está bien vestido, camisa blanca pulcra de botones lacados, pantalón de vestir negro que va a juego con sus zapatos de dicho color, y un chaleco negro de vestir desabotonado. Es de tez blanca el hombre también.

—Disculpe, ¿sabe usted dónde queda el Parque de Las Madres?— Pregunta el hombre y Arthur, amable él, quizás para limpiar un poquito (un poquitooo~) sus pecados de hoy, empieza a indagar en su mente recordando si existe tal parque y qué direcciones darle al susodicho. Claro que no vio qué era lo que le venía cayendo encima.

En eso que recordaba y recordaba una bolsa de plástico le tapa todo el rostro y cabeza, y antes que pueda reaccionar, de al frente, del hombre que le ha pedido direcciones, le fue dirigido un puñetazo bien dado en el estómago y desde atrás, un trancazo en la nuca, dejándolo inconsciente en el acto.

Cuando recobra la consciencia le duele todo. Todo es todo. No hay ninguna parte de su cuerpo que no le duela. Eso sí, ha visto que su rostro no posee golpe más allá del anterior trancazo dado, pero el resto de su cuerpo. . . oh, Dios. Según cuenta los residentes de la calle, quienes fueron que en primera instancia lo trasladaron a la acera, o esa excusa de acera, más una cuneta que acera en sí, le han pegado en banda y que se ensañaron con el de tal forma que piensan que han cobrado alguna deuda con él. Pero cuando Arthur le pregunta cuántos eran y cómo eran; altura, tez, cabello, color de dicho cabello, etc; ninguno de esos samaritanos quisieron decir algo porque pesa más el miedo de que se la cobren con ellos por soltar más lengua de la permitida.

Se ha quedado trasquilado entonces Arthur.

__________

A María los domingos no eran sus días favoritos, al menos no cuando joven, pero ahora cómo los aprecia. En su vieja casa, aunque la privacidad brille por su ausencia, aunque su cuarto sea pequeño no, lo siguiente; aunque haya ahora seis almas acá metidas, ha de admitir que no ha tenido esta paz desde hace años. Se siente libre y desprovistas de grilletes y cadenas. Ahora, lo que sí no pensó es lo que le estaba contando sus hermanos.

—¿Pero es enserio?— Comentó María, anonada por lo dicho por Andrés —Yo no les pedí eso. Ni siquiera pedí que entrasen al ruedo.

Pero a Andrés, y los otros dos, les dio tan igual. Pasándole su sobrino ahora a Francisco añadió: —Da igual si pides o no, te levantó la mano y eso es un no.

—Además— Sumó Francisco —Daba igual si te levantaba o no la mano, igual le íbamos a hacer una visita, por eso de los cachos y tal; ni que fuera vaca para eso.

—Entiendo, entiendo, pero. . . ¿Cómo fue tal cosa?— Preguntó María —Es decir, la planificación, la acción, el resultado. Todo.

—Verá, María, que cuando nos contaste esa misma tarde lo que te hizo ya nos hirvió la sangre y en cero coma salimos de casa— Respondió Andrés, mirando a su hermana, parado en mitad de los sofás —Así que lo rastreamos y cuando dimos con él, como no era acto caerle directo en el local, preferimos esperar a que saliera y caerle en plena calle.

—Así que hice de señuelo— Soltó Rodrigo —De los tres, es el que menos me conoce de cara y voz, y aunque Andrés y yo tengamos la misma cara de mongólicos, igual Arthur iba hasta el culo de alcohol y seguro no captaba quién era. Añádele también que iba con la ropa de trabajo, bien vestido, y que no iba aprenderle las alarmas al pirata.

—Vale, voy captando, pero ¿la bolsa?

—El plan original era diferente— Añadió Francisco, lanzándole a Aaron (quien reía de júbilo por la jugarreta) a Rodrigo para que lo apañara —Igual lo íbamos a apalizar, pero no tanto, solo un poco. La bolsa era para taparle la cara y que no nos viera, y en parte, lo íbamos a llevar calle abajo hasta La Porqueriza, sabe, la esquina esa harta en basura y dejarlo ahí tirado, como se merece.

—Ok, pero no fue así, fue. . .

—Claro, fue más paliza que otra cosa. Sí— Le interrumpió Andrés.

—Sí pero, hasta cierto punto, se han pasado; casi que lo matan en serio. La mano quebrada. . .

—Fui yo— Enunció con jolgorio Andrés.

—Ni lo menciones, sé, tienes esos trabajos todos raros y más de una vez me han dicho que cobras deudas y si no pagan rompes huesos. La costilla rota. . .

—Me sobrepasé, admito— Comentó Rodrigo, antes de pasarle su sobrino a la madre, lanzándolo como no —Pero ese día había llevado el zapato de vestir de cuero y punta fina, y cuando vi la costilla así expuestas. . . No me resistí.

—No haga eso— Exclamó María, no por lo contado, sino por andar lanzando a su hijo por ahí y por allá como si fuera pelota. Después de un suspiró prosiguió: —Entonces, el linchamiento, literal. . .

—Falto yo, sí— Admitió Francisco —Usted sabe que atiendo el kiosko junto a madre y más de una vez he linchado a algún ladrón. Entonces, bueno. . . es autoría mía que Arthur quedara con el culo al aire y le azotara con su propia correa —Dijo Francisco, medio apenado; aunque el más tranquilo de sus hermanos, podía llegar a ser igual o más salvaje que el resto en el momento correcto.

María estaba sorprendida. . . o eso quería pensar. La verdad no, sabía bien que una vez supieran de lo de Arthur éste no quedaría impune a su ira, pero sí se sorprendió hasta dónde llegaron. Más preocupada estaba que alguien los pudiera delatar pero le habían dicho que no se preocupara, que nadie diría ni “a”.

Para María, esta era su verdadera familia, aunque destartalados y todos con uno que otro cacao en la cabeza, ha de admitir que más bienvenida se ha sentido con sus hermanos y madre que con cualquier otro.

__________

Moraleja: No sean clasistas ni racistas: aunque vean un blanco bien vestido igual azoquen esas nalgas y estén listos pa’ huir en cero coma. Y no sean perros, eh.

Nota:

1. Kayra, Robine y Monique son Curazao, Bonaire y Aruba; personajes de Gaby —en Twitter como @abi_daby—.

#latin hetalia #lh: venezuela #aph: inglaterra #lh: republica dominicana #lh: puerto rico #lh: colombia #lh: panama #lh: ecuador #lh: guyana #otros personajes

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