The Little Secret

Previous chapter here: http://ladystardust18.livejournal.…

Disclaimer: Yes, it's alive! I hadn't had that much time, though. But here's more. The only warnings here is that I tamper around with Atlético de Madrid BECAUSE I CAN. Hints of something? Depends on your perverted minds. Feel free to stem fanfics from here if you wish XD


Chapter II

The rocking waves below the ship still didn’t lull David into a peaceful slumber. He had a high-class ticket, of course, but his mood was like that of the people he saw on deck: people with their eyes lost in the distance, people who didn’t know whether they were going back or not. In fact, he caught some of them eyeing him with some sort of resentment, as if thinking those holiday-goers did not understand the sacrifices they had to go through in order to find a new home, a new job. David was one of those “holiday-goers”. So, he almost always holed up in his cabin and wondered just how cold England was. Of course, he knew the story of the Titanic.
However, it was sometimes better to think about death by glacier crash rather than Spain. He still remembered that day at the dock with his family. He didn’t pack much, and his luggage was comprised of, mostly, winter clothes, for he’d heard, even then, about England’s cold.

Maybe England wasn’t so cold if he compared it to his father’s eyes, he thought. Señor José de Gea had stood at the dock watching his son leave, but his eyes and countenance showed no emotion at all. He might have as well been looking at nothing instead of David, who then averted his eyes. He was met by the contrasting spectacle of his mother, who could not control her sobs and was leaning on her husband’s shoulder, weeping and hiccupping. That made David sad and embarrassed at the same time, for he did not dare to hug her. That would have meant walking over to his father and being too close to him. So, he had only turned around and left.

David saw his father again in his mind, and he closed his eyes as if the image had been real. He wondered what had made his father so angry all the time. Maybe if he hadn’t had the friends he had… if he’d made other friends… but, how could he have gotten along with anyone else? Those were the guys he’d grown up with.

Fernando. He was older than the rest, but still they called him El Niño, the Kid. That was because he’d been the first child in the house. He was the son of his nurse, born out of wedlock. Perhaps, if it had been for his father, the girl and her baby would have been thrown out, but his mother refused, because the girl was in perfect health and she wanted a nurse for her future child. So, in a way, Fernando was the older brother he’d never had. They’d grown used to call him El Niño because when he started walking and running around the house, everyone would shout at him “¡Niño! Niño!” perhaps to warn him or to get him to stop. The Kid was now a tall, handsome, freckled man who made the girls’ heads turn whenever he walked down the street to run some errands: the leader of the pack, of sorts.

The second boy was the one that called David’s attention the most. His father was French and his mother was from some country far away in America. His name was Antoine. Señor de Gea would go and see Antoine’s father, señor Griezmann, if he ever needed to read a document or a book in French and Antoine’s father would translate it for him. They were the owners of a small press. Even if Señor de Gea would require their services, it was known that the Griezmann press would sometimes allow people from the Communist party to print pamphlets and signs. It was a sort of a neutral place, not wholly belonging to the rebels, but not wholly bending their heads at Franco.

The same ambiguousness applied to Antoine, who was a year younger than David. He was not part of the upper class, but there was a sort of royal quality about the boy. His parents were learned. People gossiped that they were heirs to a fortune, but that they preferred to run away when they found out Antoine’s mother was pregnant. They wouldn’t get a cent because they had placed dishonor on their families by having a child out of wedlock. So, they ran away to Spain and set up a small press. Señor Griezmann was one of the few people who knew French in Madrid. He had minimized the need to go and get interpreters at the Basque country.
El Niño, then, would sometimes play with young David; perhaps a bit reluctantly, like an older brother asked to baby-sit. He preferred to be out in the streets, playing football with the sons of the merchants, just around the estate. When he was old enough to venture not far from home, David tried to follow Fernando, but found himself too scared to participate in the football matches.

Until, one day, a small kid found his way into the middle of a football match. Older boys tried hard not to kick him by accident, but the kid wasn’t afraid.

“Es el francesito.”

The Little Frenchman. That was how they called Antoine. And it was Antoine himself who walked over to David, who was sitting in the shade, shyly watching the boys play, and invited him to join in.

David played, and had his fun, and got home together with Fernando. He was smiling and out of breath, and his clothes were dirty and torn. That night, Fernando had received a whipping for not taking care of the young master, and the nurse had to plea and say it wouldn’t happen again. So, when David went back to play, El Niño would always push him back and say:

“Tú, David, de guardameta, para que no ensucies las ropas. No quiero que me vuelva a tocar una zurra como la de la otra noche.” (1)

David didn’t like being a goalkeeper at all. It was a lonely position, mostly because Antoine and Fernando always played on his side and they were so good, it took forever to take the ball from them. So, it took forever as well for anyone to get to his side of the improvised football pitch at the back of the estate. However, playing as a goalkeeper was better that not playing at all, David thought.
Since Antoine was so good, once an older boy had tried to hit him. Fernando had stood up for his friend. So, the older boy had gone for David. El Niño had beaten him to it. The older boy had walked away with a sore jaw. No one would ever mess with el francesito or with el hijo del señor de Gea ever again. They were officially under Fernando’s wing, and from then, El Niño decided that maybe the kids were not that boring, and the three of them would be seen hanging out around the city, talking, eating, fooling around before David was called back home and met his father’s stern face.

“No debería estar con esos vagabundos,” (2) José de Gea used to say.

“Es el hijo de su nodriza,” (3) Marivi defended his son’s choice of companions.

“El que esa mujer haya amamantado a nuestro hijo no le quita su condición de criada.” Señor de Gea used to affirm this in such a way Marivi knew the conversation was over. “Para este momento ya debería de ser un miembro del Frente de Juventudes.” (4)

David closed his eyes again. Perhaps that was what his father wanted. To drive him away from his friends. To make him an honorable member of el Frente. Huh.

His father had never asked him if he wanted to be a member of el Frente. But of course, his father never asked anything. For example, that time he didn’t ask if he wanted…

The young Spaniard didn’t know how he fell asleep, but he was awakened by the grey light coming from a grey sky. It looked as uniform as a wall. A strange contrast, compared to the blue skies he remembered.

He went to the dock, holding a blanket against his body. The air had changed. The wind hit him with its coldness. People were staring at the horizon. David narrowed his eyes and remembered that he had one more stop before getting to Manchester.

He would take a train from the Port of Liverpool towards his new abode.



(1) "You be a goalkeeper David, so you won't get your clothes dirty. I don't want a beating like the other night."

(2) "He shouldn't be around those vagrants."

(3) "It's his nurse's son."

(4) "The fact that that woman breastfed our child doesn't mean she's not a servant." "By now, he should be a member of the Frente de Juventudes."

Previous chapter here http://ladystardust18.livejournal.…

Warning: Violence, evil!De Gea dad (So sorry, but like Paul Auster would say, a good story lacks compassion and like a friend and I said once, sadism demands a story. SO SORRY DE GEA FAMILY. At least this is all fake).


Chapter I
Darkness. Darkness interrupted by the flickering light of a candle and the sound of a whip cracking against skin. Small whimpers escaped the lips of the young, slender man who was kneeling while the towering figure above him chastised him, leaving deep red marks on his back. One of the leather strands hit worse than the others and the cut started bleeding profusely. The young man then let out a suffering exclamation:

“¡Padre, os lo ruego! ¡No me castiguéis más!” (1)

The only response was a harder whip-stroke, which made the younger man howl even louder. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Mírate. Mírate,” a voice rang out. “Llorando. Como una mujerzuela. Si fueras un hombre de verdad no llorarías.” (2)

“Padre… tenedme piedad… por favor…” (3)

“No, David. Bastantes rebeldías tuyas he tenido que soportar. Pero mira que humillarme esta noche. Frente a gente importante, gente del partido. Mira que rechazar un compromiso. Y con una mujer tan bella como Edurne. Cualquier otro hubiera matado por esa mujer y tú la haces a un lado, como si fuera basura.” (4)

“Pero padre, ¡por favor!” David managed to talk, his jaw tightening, trying not to cry out in pain. “¡No podia aceptarla! ¡No la amo!” (5)

The whip stroke that followed was so rough David let out another agonizing howl as he bled some more—and his father, the man whipping him, the man punishing him, had to stop to shake his arm a bit. The force he had put into that stroke had even hurt him too: he had lashed out at his son with way too much anger.

“¡Por Dios, David!” he nearly spat out. “¡Escúchate! ¡Escúchate diciendo estupideces! ¡Una mujer de esa belleza y dices que no la amas! Hubieras aprendido a amarla. ¡Cualquier hombre hubiera considerado que aprender a amar esa mujer es un privilegio!” (6)

He raised the whip again, seemingly to hit David with the same force that had penetrated his son’s skin a moment ago—but he halted. He halted and looked at the half-naked form behind him with disgust, as if it had not been his blood. His kin. His child.

“Cualquier hombre, claro; excepto tú. Tú no eres un hombre. Eres una mala broma, una mala excusa de hombre.” (7)

The father left the whip aside and walked away.

“Dejemos que la gente hable. Que la gente hable y diga que el hijo de José de Gea es un traidor que se junta con aquellos que van en contra del general. Y ahora podemos agregar esta infamia: que el hijo de José de Gea ha rechazado a una joven de buena familia, poderosa, bella. Dejemos que digan que el hijo de José de Gea no es un hombre.” (8)

David couldn’t get up from his position. Blood trickled down his naked back.

“Dejemos que sigan diciendo en las calles que mi hijo es…” José de Gea paused, as if he was unable to say it. He finally managed to find a word which was an euphemism for the offense he had in mind. (9)

“Una aberración.” (10)

Young David coughed. His tears mixed with his mucus and saliva. He stayed there on the floor, his lithe frame trembling out of fear and pain. His father’s words echoed in his mind.

An aberration.


José de Gea occupied his marital bed next to his wife, Marivi. The fair-haired woman’s face did not reflect her husband’s angry stoicism, but rather worry, as if she was expecting something.

“Está decidido,” José announced with a tone of finality which made Marivi’s heart jump, even if she tried to hide it by keeping her face as straight as she could. “David se va de casa. Lo voy a mandar lejos.” (11)

“Tendría que haber aprendido. No entiendo por qué nuestro hijo no cambia ni con la severidad de tus castigos,” Marivi said, trying hard to hide a mixture of sadness and disappointment, both for and because of her son. (12)

“Has sido muy laxa con él. Le has permitido muchas cosas. Si hubieses dejado que yo le hubiese castigado de manera más estricta, él quizá ya estaría representándome en las reuniones del partido con el Frente de Juventudes y se estaría fijando en mujeres adecuadas para él, en vez de estar pasando el tiempo con esos vagabundos criminales. Quizá ellos son los que le meten ideas en esa cabeza dura que tiene.” José de Gea paused, as if he had faced something which both terrified and disgusted him, before he continued talking. “Y si nuestro hijo tiene esa enfermedad tan grotesca, estoy seguro que cambiando de aires podrá curarse.” (13)

“Lo que necesita son buenas influencias; amigos adecuados para él. Iker podría haberlo ayudado. Es un hombre joven. Podría entenderse con nuestro hijo,” Marivi tentatively said. She spoke as if she had come face to face with the same fear her husband had left unuttered but she had chosen to avoid it. (14)

“Casillas es el tutor de toda la familia de nuestro general. Sé que sería un honor que David fuera educado por él, pero no podemos darle tanto trabajo. Es un hombre joven quien además también es líder importante del Frente de Juventudes.” (15)

Marivi fingered the bed linen nervously.

“¿Y quién se encargará de nuestro hijo, entonces?” (16)

José took some letters that rested on his nighttable. They were both written in English (a language he could not read) and Spanish, and one in a language he suspected, was Flemish or something like it.

“Hay un joven profesor en la Universidad de Madrid. Está con el Sindicato. Es también líder, como Iker. Él es un poco más viejo; sin embargo, no tiene experiencia siendo tutor. Temo que podría ser un poco laxo; David necesita mano dura. Por eso le pedí me diera su recomendación. Y tiene un colega. Ambos salieron huyendo de Holanda, Flandes, como sea que se llame, por culpa de los malditos comunistas. Su colega se instaló en Inglaterra. No puede salir mal con alguien del partido, mujer. Sé lo que te digo.” (17)

Marivi took the letters and fiddled around with them. Her son was going away. With a man named Edwin van der Sar, a name which sounded unbelievably foreign. The land where he was going to also sounded strange and distant.

Manchester, England.



 (1) "Father, I'm begging you! Don't punish me more!"

(2) "Look at yourself. Look at yourself. Crying like a tart. If you were a real man you wouldn't cry."

(3) "Father... have mercy on me... please."

(4) "No, David. I have put up with your rebelliousness for a long time. But then you go and humiliate me. Tonight. In front of important people. People from the party. You rejected an engagement. To a woman as beautiful as Edurne. Anyone would have killed for that woman and you pushed her aside as if she was garbage." (The party means la Falange Española, as mentioned in the prologue).

(5) "But father, please! I couldn't accept her! I don't love her!"

(6) "For God's sake, David! Listen to yourself! Listen to the stupid things you say! Such a beautiful woman and you say you don't love her! You could have learned to love her. Any man would have considered it a privilege, learning to love that woman!"

(7) "Any man, of course... except you. You're not a man. You're a bad joke. A lame excuse for a man."

(8) "Let's just allow people to talk... People will talk and say that José de Gea's son is a traitor that is friends with people who are against the general. And now we can add insult to infamy: José de Gea's son has rejected a woman who comes from a good family, who's powerful and a beauty. Let's allow people to say José de Gea's son is not a man." ("The general" is General Primo de Rivera, founder of la Falange)

(9) "Let's just allow people to talk in the streets and say my son is..."

(10) "An aberration."

(11) "It's decided. David's leaving home. I'm sending him far away."

(12) "He should have learned by now. I don't understand why our son won't change--not even when you severely punish him."

(13) "You've been very soft with him. You've allowed him many things. If you'd allowed me to punish him even more stringently he would be possibly representing me at the party reunions with the Frente de Juventudes and he would be setting his eyes on women who're right for him, instead of spending his time with those vagrants and criminals. It might be them, the ones who get ideas into that hard skull of his. [...] And if our son has that grotesque illness, I'm sure changing his location will cure him." (The "Frente de Juventudes" literally means "Youth Front". It was the youth section of La Falange.

(14) "What he needs are good influences. Friends who are good for him. Iker could have helped him. He's a young man. He and our son could have gotten along."

(15) "Casillas tutors all of our general's family. It would be an honor for David to be educated by him, but we cannot give him such a workload. He's a young man and also an important leader of the Frente de Juventudes." (General, again, Primo de Rivera)

(16) "Who will take care of our son, then?"

(17) "There's a young professor at the University of Madrid. He's with the Syndicate. He's also a leader, like Iker. He's a bit older, nonetheless he doesn't have experience as a tutor. I'm afraid he could be a bit relaxed. David needs someone tough. So, I asked for a recommendation. He has a colleague. Both of them fled the Netherlands or Flanders, whatever the name is. All because of them damned communists. His colleague settled down in England. You can't go wrong with people from the party, woman. I know what I'm saying." (Syndicate--also related to Frente de Juventudes.)

Welcome post and list that will update itself here http://ladystardust18.livejournal.…

Warning: Hints of rape. Offense to Real Madrid due to their relationship with dictator Franco. You have been warned. No offense. The friendship of Real with Franco is actually historical.



Prologue

Run. Run. Panting. Panting. My head is going to explode. I can't go on. I need to rest. I can't...

He could hear the steps behind him. Or maybe he was just imagining them. He was so tired he couldn't make sure. And he didn't want to turn back. That would cause him to lose time. And if someone was behind him...

"¡David! ¡David, mierda*!

Fuck. That was Álvaro's voice, behind him, calling out, trying to fool him into going back. But no way. He couldn't go back. Arbeloa only wanted the price for his head. He knew he was a wanted man from the moment he had run away from the falangista ranks. He had everything against him: his former friends, his father's suspicions, his own hatred for the war and for his companions at that camp.

And... especially... what had happened. That humiliation and torture they had put him through. He still sported bruises from that night. There was an acidic taste, like vomit, in the back of his mouth ever since. And then the smell of sweat and dirt from all the bodies. It would make his head swim and his eyes fill with tears.

Shit. He couldn't be thinking about that now. He had to run.

What hurt the most was to think it all had been his fault. Maybe his father had been right. If he had been a man, a real man, this would have never happened to him. He would have been left alone and in peace.

He asked himself though, is that what real men would do? He had wondered that. Would any real man have treated the way the troops at the Real Army did? He sometimes doubted it. If he was so disgusting to them, why had they actually seemed to enjoy that act?

He remembered his father then. He had always warned him about his ways. It was punishment. Punishment from above so he would see the horror and just how unnatural his ways were. So he could change. So he could walk in the ways of God. They had been sent to change him and to right him even if it meant such suffering.

Edwin would have thought otherwise, though. And he didn't feel... unnatural... when they were together.

Edwin...

David closed his eyes tightly. The least he needed was to cry right now. Tears obscured his vision. He could fall and he wouldn't know. He had to concentrate.

Instead, all he could hear was Edwin repeating: "Don't be afraid. We're not monsters. We're humans. This is human too. Whoever dares to tell you otherwise, is the monster."

He had been surrounded my monsters and beget by monsters then. He ran quicker. But, really? Could he call his father a monster? He had promised Edwin he would always remember that. That no one could take his teachings away from him. But it was so easy to tell him that, under a blue British sky, a sky seldom seen. It was easy to feel that way when he was away from home. Now, surrounded by woods, alone, being chased, with his life in danger, it was not so easy to keep Edwin's teachings as his guiding light. The thought his mentor could be wrong saddened him. The thought he had come back to unlearn everything Edwin had carefully taught him made him choke. He had to sit down for a while to cough and spit. He had reached a clearing, which was dangerous, but he couldn't take another step.

After retching for a few seconds, David stood up. That was when he turned back and saw, at a menacing distance, Álvaro Arbeloa, holding his gun, raising it slowly.

"Perdona David, pero tú te lo has buscado.**"

Indeed. Arbeloa thought it was his fault too.

"A la patria no se le traiciona.***"

He was a little scum. Standing out in the open. Nothing but a tree some steps away.

"Tu cabeza ya tiene precio. Y es muy alto, David. Quién diría, el hijo de José de Gea enemigo del país.*****"

Álvaro cocked the gun.

"No he de desaprovechar esta oportunidad.*****"

A single gunshot broke the silence.



(Spanish words)

*Shit
**I'm sorry David. You asked for it.
***You don't betray your country.
****Your head has a price, David. And it's a high price. Who would have thought José de Gea's son is an enemy to the country.
*****I shall not let my chance pass.

Rating: M. Mostly because of violence and historical meanness. But there will be sex too.
Pairing:Edwin van der Sar/David de Gea.
Disclaimer: There's no way this could be true because I dreamt it. Really. I dreamt that for some reason I had access to romantic letters that were sent to Edwin from David. And from that, the idea just became bigger and bigger, based on works by Albert Camus about the goalkeeper being alone, in an absurd position, and mostly unfairness, unexpected shots, etc. Camus's words regarding this are wonderful. I added my thoughts to the mix. And the porn. But I digress. So... AND YES I'M QUITE SURE DAVID'S FATHER WAS NOT LIKE THAT, BUT RATHER A WONDERFUL MAN. But for fiction...
Summary: Spain, 1935 and early 1936.  The country is sunken in political turmoil. José de Gea, politician, lives with his family in Madrid. De Gea's a member of the Falange, the conservative/fascist political party, and favored the dictatorship of Primo de Rivera. A close friend of conservatives in power, de Gea supports the idea of a fascist state, but he has something taking his mind of the urgent political problems. That is, his son David. Young David spends his time playing football in the streets with young men who oppose los falangistas and according to his father, shows behavioral tendencies which are not acceptable for a young man his age. After David refuses his father arranging an engagement for him with celebrated beauty Edurne, an enraged José decides to send his son abroad so that he might be educated under a tutor and "learn to be a man." David is then taken to Manchester, England, a city where he knows nobody and thus has to spend all his time with his new tutor, a Dutchman that goes by the name of Edwin van der Sar. Little does José de Gea know that the tutor is a converted liberal, and gradually David and Edwin will not only find themselves bonding, but falling in love... a relationship that is jeopardized when the Spanish Civil war breaks out and David is called back by his father, who forces him to fight alongside the falangistas.
Characters: Edwin van der Sar, David de Gea, José de Gea, Edurne, Álvaro Arbeloa (will update the list periodically).

(Yeah, this thing's gonna be long. Will upload chapters when I can).

I know this all sounds very happy, so in case you were wondering what was it about...

This is the name of the new Guns n' Roses Tour. THE GUNS N' ROSES REUNION TOUR.

I guess this must be old news by now, but they appeared in Mexico City and IT WAS JUST SO AMAZING!

I mean, my LiveJournal has been around for a long time and now I really haven't been writing fic and haven't updated in a long time, but back then when I started my very first fic was a Guns N' Roses/Nirvana one. And when I finished it it all ended in a nostalgic note, hoping one day they would reunite and that Axl would go back to Slash (they're so OTP to me) but everything seemed to say that it wouldn't happen. Whenever media asked about a reunion, Slash would say "Not in this lifetime".

AND IT HAPPENED.

It was a bit sad that Axl Rose had broken his leg at the previous Coachella shows (guess he went to far with the "break a leg" thing). He showed up with a cast and sang sitting down, so band interaction was very limited. But both Slash and Duff seemed perfectly at home and they even did some Chinese Democracy songs, which, for me, is an indication that there's no bad blood. And when they gave their final bows to the audience Axl, on crutches, stood next to Slash! <3

Plus, the concert was awesome. They played all the great hits, the ballads that made me cry and they even had time for some covers. Their version of The Who's "The Seeker" was damn right rocking and Duff played Misfits's "Attitude" and Johnny Thunders's "You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory" (though, to be honest, that concert seemed to contradict such sentence) which is such a beautiful, heartbreaking song. And mind you, Mr. McKagan looked HOT.

As you can see, I'm still going insane about the concert. I wrote a chronicle for the website of the radio station I work in. It's in Spanish, but the pictures (not mine) are awesome and I think they help to feel the vibe and the excitement this reunion caused. http://distopia.mx/gunsencdmx/

As a fan, I loved to see Guns n' Roses challenging what they had themselves deemed impossible. As a fanfic writer, I loved seeing my OTP "giving themselves a second chance" (in my mind, lol. But this concert was the equivalent). And as the romantic I am, I couldn't help feeling that, even when you think something's not going to happen, when you've given up on someone or something, it might happen, and it might surprise you and everyone around you and leave an everlasting impression.

Just, so, so happy.

(And if you want to read the fics please go to this tag http://ladystardust18.livejournal.…'%20roses)


Update: YES THEY HUGGED.

So, I’m not kidding: I dreamt David de Gea and Edwin van der Sar were dating and that for some reason I (or a character that was me) could see their personal letters and I was impressed to see David wrote poems to Edwin and very explicit yet kinda sweet and innocent letters.

THE WHOLE IDEA DEGENERATED IN A PRE-SPANISH CIVIL WAR PLOT BUNNY: David gets sent to Manchester in order to be tutored by Edwin and a relationship ensues.

THE FANDOM CALLED ME BACK IN MY DREAMS.

Originally posted by seraphprowess at Bowie People Magazine Spread

Source there. So lovely.

How have you all been guys? Sorry I can't really write as frequently, but, you know, grad school, life... however, here I am and will summarize 2013 with this meme stolen from acchikocchi.


1: What did you do in 2013 that you'd never done before?

Started graduate school. Moved to the UK. Did everything that implies living on your own, including cooking sausages for the first time. I think I'm good at cooking sausages.

2: Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I can't really remember last year's resolutions XD but yes, I'm making more for next year.

3: Did anyone close to you give birth?

No.

4: Did anyone close to you die?

Fortunately, no one died this year. Cancer had already taken two aunts from me in previous years.

5: What countries did you visit?

England, obviously.

6: What would you like to have in 2014 that you lacked in 2013?

There's something I have been lacking for years, but I don't think I'm ready XD. I think I need some emotional stability before jumping into a romance. However, if there's something I'd like to have, it's going to be related to my emotions. Maybe I should just lead you to question 9.

7: What dates from 2013 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

The week I moved from Mexico to Liverpool, obviously. But there's a date that will make it much more special for me: the day I first set foot in Old Trafford: September 24.

8: What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Getting into grad school, of course.

9: What was your biggest failure?

This is something I have to change in me: quit obsessing with what people don't do and quit thinking that they don't care about me. As an anxious person, I tend to do it. It feels like I want to be in control, so when someone tells me that they will do this or that and they don't I think I'm being dismissed. Now, with practically all my friends and family having a long distance friendship with me, it happens quite frequently: being stood up  in Skype, unanswered emails. I tend to think people really doesn't want to know about me. I think I should start to trust the fact people do love me even if they don't do things I'm expecting them to do. That's why I'm not ready for romance, it feels.

10: Did you suffer illness or injury?

Not really.

11: What was the best thing you bought?

A black dress for Xmas and of course, tuition.

12: Whose behavior merited celebration?

My close family. I was so happy to see them enjoy my company so much when I went back home for the holidays.

13: Whose behavior made you appalled?

A person I considered my friend. Yes, I know I have said I want to trust people more, but this person hasn't written a line to me, not even for my birthday, after considering herself "one of my best friends". Have to say, ever since I came back from New York I somehow started suspecting she was only with me because of interest, gifts and so.

14: Where did most of your money go?

England, of course.

15: What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Same answer as above. And Bon Jovi's concert, but it was postponed :(

16: What song will always remind you of 2013?

Bon Jovi's "Because We Can".

17: Compared to this time last year, are you: (a) happier or sadder? (b) thinner or fatter? (c) richer or poorer?

I'm happier because I achieved something I really wanted to achieve. I'm definitely thinner because British food is not my friend XD and I'm of course, poorer, but hey, it's my education.

18: What do you wish you'd done more of?

I'm not sure about this one. Maybe I should even read more? I don't know. I somehow feel I'm not enough for my Masters, but I think that also has to do with my insecurity issues.

19: What do you wish you'd done less of?

Procrastinating? Yeah, has to do with previous question lol. And maybe drinking beer. It would help me save. But I like beer. Gee.

20: How did you spend Christmas?

In Mexico with my family. Tacos, anyone?

21: Did you fall in love in 2013?

Not really.

22: What was your favorite TV program?

I used to watch a lot of SpongeBob with my brother back home, and when I came to England I wanted to watch Sherlock and even How I Met Your Mother. Have I done it? NO. Why did I pay my TV license? To watch footy.

23: Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate last year?

Not really. I might dislike some people a bit more, but hate is such a strong word.

24: What was the best book you read?

Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian (which I started on November 2012 and finished four months later, in February 2013). Josefina Vicens' El libro vacío (The Empty Book). Manuel Puig's El beso de la mujer araña (Kiss of the Spiderwoman).

25: What was your single greatest musical discovery?

Ghost BC.

26: What did you want and get?

Liverpool and a honourable mention in a poetry contest. I need to go down to London next week to see about it :)

27: What did you want and not get?

A complete scholarship and several other poetry prizes which involved money.

28: What was your favorite film of this year?

I have the feeling that if I had had the time The Hobbit or Dragon Ball: Battle of the Gods would have been my favorite movies of the year. However, I did not have the time to get together with my friends to watch them during the holidays :(

29: What one thing made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Immeasurably? That's a strong word XD yet, I think I became a stronger person. That's satisfying.

30: How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2013?

As always, my rock-inspired glamour until I went to England and it was all about "the jeans and tees I packed under a coat".

31: What kept you sane?

Rock music. Football. I actually got into counselling. I want to solve my anxiety and depressive issues. Hopefully that make me learn how to trust people.

32: Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Benedict Cumberbatch! I still need to watch Sherlock. But I'll never get over the R. Kelly dramatic reading.

33: What political issue stirred you the most?

Gay marriage.

34: Who did you miss?

My family and my friends who are far away.

35: Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2013.

Sounds corny, but it's one of my favorite songs. After all, Don't Stop Believin'.

36: Quote a song lyrics that sums up your year.

"Oh, we're halfway there, aah, livin' on a prayer.

( You are about to view content that may only be appropriate for adults. )

I mean it when I say so. Sir Alex Ferguson has been manager of Manchester United ever since I was in the womb. So, when I heard the news... I was as shocked as everyone. The thing is, as I said, I can't imagine United without him because I really have known no more.

It's a bit weird because even in fics I had not thought about his retirement. I could think even about Edwin retiring, and everything, but Sir Alex was always there, an element that could not be missed when talking about the boys because he was always there. In fact, I remember my Sympathy for the Devils fanfic (http://ladystardust18.livejournal.…, which I may post again if you want to). There's a moment in which my David Beckham character tells the Sir Alex character "Be my grandpa!". And it kinda feels that way. SAF, no matter if he was a little bit crazy, tyrannical, and sometimes wrong, was like family, United's father (or grandfather?) figure.

So, thanks for everything, Sir Alex. Hopefully the team will fare well without you.