#Herve Denis

[loulieblack]

Some wonderful artwork in the form of an EBook by French artist, Herve Denis.

#Herve Denis #Art EBook #Herve Denis French Artist #Herve Denis Watercolours #Herve Denis oil paintings #Balade a la Barbiniere

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Sunshine

Synopsis: You are the youngest and only daughter of the Leclerc family, and no matter how much he tries to hide it, Charles can’t deny you’re his favorite

monegasque female leclerc reader x brother charles leclerc

A/N: let’s say that y/n was born in 2006, making her about 17 now, 15 years younnger younger than lorenzo, 9 years younger than charles, and 6 younger than arthur

. so

. pascale leclerc has always wanted a daughter

. a little girl she could love and spoil with all her heart

. don’t get me wrong, she loves her sons with all of her being

. but i’d be lying if i said she’s never wished for another girl in the house

. the rest of the leclercs know this

. so it wasn’t a big suprise when she told everyone that she was pregnant in 2005

. and nearly cried of happiness when she learned she was carrying a baby girl

. now at first

. 8 year old charles leclerc didn’t know how he felt about this

. because he already has 5 year old arthur following him around everywhere

. what would it be like with another sibling in the house?

. so he wasn’t entirely thrilled at first

. but the second pascale and herve brought you home from the hospital a few months later

. he knew he’d love you no matter what

. his friends at school constantly talk about how annoying their baby sisters are

. but charles is always more endeared with you rather than annoyed

. he would play and watch kid shows with you for days on end if that’s what you wanted

. would be lying if he said he’s never played pretend with you

. repeatedly asked for pascale to allow you to come to his karting races

. something that didn’t happen until you were 3

. shows you off to all of his friends at said races

. “you see that baby over there with my maman? that’s my sister, y/n”

. “she doesn’t really know what’s going on, but she always cheers for me anyway”

. charles makes sure he’s there for every milestone in your life

. first day of school

. the first time you drove a kart

. when you learned how to ride a bike

. etcetera

. it does get harder as the years go on, with his karting career continuing and everything

. but your brother makes sure he’s there for you

. because no matter how busy he gets

. he’s never too occupied to see you discover yourself

. finding your own personality and hobbies

. interests and dislikes

. this has all happened by the time you’re 9 years old

. nearing the end of your childhood but still enjoying it nonethless

. pascale even lets you follow charles to formula 1 races, because she knows he’s really following jules bianchi

. your older brother loves when you come with him to races

. but he wishes more than anything your mother made you stay home with her instead of going to suzuka with him

. because he knows you love jules

. he’s like another brother to you

. he’s always the one to have you sitting on top of his shoulders, doing anything to help you see more than the world you were given (both literally and figuratively)

. jules was the one who gave you his kart to practice with

. the one that taught you everything you know about cars

. the one that taught you to always dream for more

. the one that taught you what grief felt like

. charles remembers the moment it happened, the crash, the noise, the shock

. the way you looked up at him, your 9 year old self not old enough to realize what just happened

. “charlie, what happened? where’s jules?”

. he remembers how much you cried in the hospital, looking way too young to be sitting in those waiting room chairs and losing one of the people you loved the most

. he remembers hearing you sob in your room when you got home, how helpless he felt that he couldn’t do anything to stop his own emotions, nonetheless his baby sisters’

. he remembers how instead of driving the kart jules left you, most of the time you just sat in front of it, staring at it, wishing jules would come outside like he always would, and persuade pascale to let you two drive around for just a few more hours

. arthur was the one who looked out for you in these times, because charles was too busy either being looked after by lorenzo, or trying to drive his own feelings away in formula championships

. 2015 was a sorrowful year in the leclerc household

. so it makes sense that charles is happy when you start to show some progress in late 2016

. when you start to drive your kart again, improved by the JB17 stickers you start to put everywhere

. you start enjoying school again, hanging out with your friends and playing outside

. it almost gives him hope

. almost

. because by 2017, charles is nervous

. because herve is getting worse

. and charles knows his litter sister, you’re not stupid

. you can tell that your father is sick, and he’s not going to be get better

. he tries to subtly encourage you to spend more time with him

. makes sure you tell him all your stories from school, tell him what you want to be when you’re older and what you want to do

. soon enough though, you can’t do these things because your father was emitted into the hospital

. charles is nearly twenty now, he’s old enough for his mother to give him the truth about these sorts of things

. but still not old enough to tell his eleven year old sister the truth

. the whole family is there with herve in the hospital in june 2017

. none of them are ready to lose another one of their own again

. you’re sobbing, arthur’s arms wrapped around you and hand pushing your head into his neck because he know you shouldn’t have to see this

. lorenzo is the only thing keeping both his mother and first younger brother standing, all while trying to keep his own tears from blurring his vision

. this time, you don’t let anybody help you

. you never leave your room, only to go to school and to eat

. you stopped karting completely, not wanting to unless your father was standing on the front porch, cheering you on and giving advice from where he stood

. you don’t come to either arthur’s or charles’ races, not the one charles wins after herve dies, not the ones he continues to win after that

. the family almost forgets what your smile looks like, they only remember the faint sound of your cries at night

. charles beats himself up over it, feels guilty and helpless

. he couldn’t stop jules from crashing, couldn’t stop his father from getting sick, and can’t even protect his younger sister from losing herself

. he tries his hardest to be there for you, to hug you, tell you he loves you, and that he’s always there if you want to talk

. he waits as long as it takes for you to open up to him

. it comes eventually, the day you knock on his bedroom door and let yourself talk and cry in his arms

. it takes much longer for you to co-exist with your grief this time

. but charles is there for every step of the way

. you go to his first formula 1 race with him in 2018, cheer him on from the sauber garage with lorenzo and pascale no matter what position he comes in

. you hang out with arthur while he’s racing in formula e and formula 4, cheer for him just as loudly, if not louder than you would for charles

. you’re 12 by the time 2018 ends, but feel much older than you actually are

. this is the point where you and charles bond on a deeper level

. because whereas the rest of the world just sees you as a tweleve-year-old girl

. charles see you as a twelve-year-old girl who’s been through more than she should’ve, and now feels the emotions to match

. so as time continues to pass, you guys talk about the real stuff in your lives

. he talks about joining ferrari and what it feels like to do what jules had always wanted to

. what it felt like lying to your father about the ferrari contract and how he wonders what herve thinks about it now

. you talk about what it feels like going through life without a father

. what it feels like fearing for your brothers’ lives every time they get into their cars

. he tries to help you get over this fear by bringing you to the paddock with him

. which includes becoming friends with andrea after all the hours you two spend side by side in the ferrari garage

. meeting sebastian who instantly becomes a mentor to you

. you’ve known pierre for longer than you can remember, so you hang out in his team garage sometimes

. your brother tries to keep an eye on you while your in the paddock, but as you get older, the more freedom you have

. by the time you’re 15 in 2021, you roam around the paddock on your own free will

. with carlos joining ferrari, you hang out with his younger sister ana, who leads you on all sorts of adventures in whatever city you two are in that weekend

. meeting all sorts of celebrities while you’re walking down the pit lane on sundays

. spending time in the aston martin hospitality because you’re still close with seb

. passing time with lewis in the mercedes garage, he sheds some of his wisdom on you, you tell him all the drama in your life

. bothering pierre while simultaneously befriending yuki in the alpha tauri garage

. and of course, hanging out with charles in the rare moments when you both have nothing do to

. these are the antics that carry on throughout your late teenage years

. so by the time the end of 2023 rolls around, you’re close to graduating school and moving on to whatever you wish to pursue

. it’s in those moments, the ones where you’re talking about college and moving away and your career

. truly makes him realize that you’re growing up

. and you’re not the little girl that will always be there to cheer him on from the stands

. you assure him that you will though

. that wherever you end up, still in monaco or not

. you’ll always be rooting for him

. and he knows he’ll always be rooting for you too

. because you’re his little sister

. and he loves you more than you know

#reader insert #formula 1 #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 driver imagines #platonic f1 grid #f1 2023 grid x y/n #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #older brother charles leclerc #sibling fic #leclerc!reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x sister!reader

[miamierre]

who else is thinking about charles and pierre being girldads? because i am, every single day. their little princesses of monaco

oh my GOD you have come to the right account, my friend. all @formula1squids and i talk about is girldads piarles and its kind of insane. odette is literally my favorite oc she is the BEST little girl in the WORLD. the twins (baby herve & amelie) are my sweet loves too but literally odette IS the princess of monaco and she WILL tell you this with a straight face. no qualms. she doesnt like when pierre kisses charles without her in his arms bc it means SHE'S not getting affection. she's obsessed with the mole on charles' collarbone. she's never been denied a thing ONCE. which pierre and charles regret when they're parenting the twins and odette is like WELL DO YOU NOT LOVE ME ANYMORE (aged 3)

#if you saw the tiktoks wy sent me btw. i should qualify for some kind of brain worms vet discount #come share with the class bestie. girldads piarles live rent free in my mind and my heart #girldads tag #ask reply #Anonymous

[plumsaffron]

Hey I heard that Thomas astruc is leaving writing role after Season 5 is done, If that's true, Who's going to write on future seasons for the better?

I don't know. Is he still supervising other stuff or writing supervising. I don't really care, as long as Season 6 interests me at least as much as Season 5 is.

Thomas Astruc is not the only one I suppose according when searching. Maybe that's a perk of being a hot topic of the ml fandom.

Anyways here's some others who wrote episodes before or still

Sébastien Thibaudeau

Frédéric Engel Lenoir

Nicky Baker

Cindy Morrow

Matthieu Choquet

Mélanie Duval

Leonie De Rudder

Guillaume Mautalent

Sébastien Oursel

Michaël Delachenal

Cédric Bacconnier

Denis Bardiau

Pascal Boutboul

Régis Jaulin

Jean-Christophe Herve

Cedric Perrin

#miraculous ladybug season 5 #miraculous ladybug season 6 #thomas astruc #ml writers #miraculous ask

[newslobster]

Saudi Arabia Coach Denies Players Will Get Rolls Royce After Argentina Win

Saudi Arabia Coach Denies Players Will Get Rolls Royce After Argentina Win

Saudi Arabia forward Saleh al-Shehri also called the report false. The Saudi Arabia head coach Herve Renard has denied claims that his entire team was being gifted Rolls Royce by the country’s royal family after their stunning World Cup victory over Argentina.  It had been previously reported that Saudi Arabia’s crown prince Mohammed bin Salman Al Saud would present each of the players with RM6…

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[thingysandstuff]

Fake News! 'Saudi coach' refutes the news that the prince gives away Rolls Royce to the players.

Herve Renard, coach of the Saudi national team Refused rumors that the prince of the country gave away Rolls-Royce Phantom more than 50 million baht each, injecting every player. After making history, beating Argentina 2-1 in the opening match of the World Cup.

The rumors originated with Pakistani dentists and social media influencers. Which published the story on Twitter until it received a lot of attention “This is not true at all. We have federations and sports ministries working very hard. And this is not the time to do something like this now,” said the 54-year-old Frenchman.“I don't know if you remember the press conference before the Argentina game. I'd say it's one of the three big games, the only good thing at the end of the group stage is getting first or second.   สล็อตเว็บตรงเล่นเเบบง่าย

While Saleh Al-Shehri, the Saudi national team striker Denied this as well, adding, “It's not true. We are here to serve the country and do our best. That's the payoff.”

Saudi Arabia lost 2-0 to Poland, leaving them in contention to qualify for the final against Mexico, as they now have three points from two games.

#ข่าวกีฬา ข่าวกีฬาต่างประเทศ ข่าวกีฬาฟุตบอล ข่าวกีฬาวันนี้ ข่าวกีฬาไทย ทรูสปอร์ต ฟุตบอล

[hackesh]

Moroccan union denies the resignation of Herve Ronard from the training of "Atlas Lions" The Royal Moroccan Football Federation has denied that Herve Ronard has resigned from the national team's training "to the limit of the hour".

#Bodybuilding Sports News #denies #Egyptian Sports News #Herve #Lionsquot #Moroccan #Moroccan sports news for today #News Sports #quotAtlas #resignation #Ronard #Sports News Today #training #Union #World Sports News

[ifreakingloveroyals]

Through the Years → Queen Mathilde of Belgium (1,116/∞)

13 November 2019 | Liege province governor Herve Jamar, DRC Congo doctor Denis Mukwege, Queen Mathilde of Belgium and Ulg Rector Pierre Wolper pictured during the 1st Congress of the International Mukwege Chair on 'Violence against women and girls in conflicts', at the ULiege university in Liege. (Photo by Eric Lalmand/BELGA MAG/AFP via Getty Images)

#Queen Mathilde #Belgium #2019 #Eric Lalmand #Belga Mag #AFP via Getty Images #through the years: Mathilde

[news1ru]

Гаити хочет воссоздать армию, распущенную в 1995 году

Гаити хочет воссоздать армию, распущенную в 1995 году

В Гаити власти решили организовать небольшую армию в которой будет насчитываться менее 500 военных, сообщает информационное агентство Рейтер. Данная информация была подтверждена министром обороны страны Herve Denis.

Стоит отметить, что по решению правительства армия была распущена еще в 1995 году. На тот момент лидером страны был Жан-Бертрана Аристида. Роспуск военных был сделан для того, что…

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#Herve Denis #Армия #Гаити #Жан-Бертрана Аристида

[paintedwithwords]

For the Forty Questions Meme for Fic Writers, I'd like to ask you #7.

Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Sorry for taking so long but I’m working a lot of nights in a row and during the day I’m dead tired so I try to rest as much as I can.

You’ve chosen one of the hardest questions, anon, because I don’t particuarly feel proud of anything I wrote, if not on occasion when people show to truly love it. So, having to pick a piece of prose I think I’ll go with a couple of lines from chapter 6 of Preludio, because that fiction for it’s subject and tone was the one that gave me the chance to indulge in my angst-y inclination.

“But even when her body is buried and her soul is fading away, Damon can still get to her. He can get on herves she’s not supposed to have, boil blood that ran dry long ago, tie her to a place she doesn’t belong anymore.”

“It’s not that he wants to hide Bonnie’s presence for a very selfish reason, like wanting to keep her for himself, because he doesn’t. That would mean he cares more then he can admit, and that’s  clearly not the case - hethinks, turning his eyes to the side to catch a movement that will conform that Bonnie is still there. Everything is quiet and he slips one arm inside his shirt, anxious to be alone so he can speak to her; he needs it, for very practical reasons. He wants to have her lash at him for all the things he’s surely done wrong while she was away, just so that they can find back their dynamic, and then find a solution to this mess. To this absence made of night-rose granite and stubborn silence, bleeding inside of him from a hole he can never quite plug.”

I don’t do it on purpose, it’s just my way to dig into what the character is feeling, to make them more accessible and vivid to the reader (even when they are trying to deny/convince themselves otherwise),and always realize this later on when people comment on it, but occasionally I manage to make a feeling more tangible with an imagery that in itself feels poetic, which kinda makes me recognizable to someone that’s used to read my stories. I have a style of my own, and that, in my smallness,makes me exist.

#anon #writers meme #fic meme #aske me #reply

[loulieblack]

amazing paintings by Herve Denis at Herve DENIS galerie.

#Herve Denis #French artist #watercolour paintings #French artist Herve Denis #Herve Denis blogspot

[your-mail]

Teenager Dango Ouattara scored the only goal and was sent off as Burkina Faso surprised Tunisia to reach the Africa Cup of Nations semi-finals.

Ouattara, 19, ran onto Blati Toure's through ball, held off two defenders and cut inside before firing in.

But he was then sent off in the 82nd minute for an elbow on Ali Maaloul.

The Stallions, who have never won the tournament, will meet the winner of Sunday's BBC Two game between Senegal and Equatorial Guinea (19:00 GMT).

But they will be without Ouattara, now suspended after his late dismissal. It came after referee Joshua Bondo's second trip to the monitor for a video assistant referee check in quick succession.

Minutes earlier, Tunisia were denied a penalty as Soumaila Ouattara caught Wahbi Khazri with a high tackle in the box after initially winning the ball.

Burkina Faso, who are ranked 60th in the world, have won all four Afcon quarters they have ever played including three in the past four tournaments. Tunisia, ranked 30th, have lost six of their past seven.

Kamou Malo's side were hanging on at the end but the Eagles of Carthage, who beat Nigeria in the last 16, never really looked like equalising.

Khazri had two of their better chances, with a 30-yard free-kick tipped over the bar by Herve Koffi and a miscued shot from six yards going well wide.

Lorient forward Ouattara was the difference between the teams with his run from Toure's midfield ball before lashing in just before the half-time whistle - although his late red card could well end his tournament.

The Burkinabe, who lost the 2013 final, had chances to win by more - albeit long before the late drama - with Cyrille Bayala denied by Bechir Ben Said when he had time and space in the box.

The final whistle, blown 15 seconds before the indicated amount of injury time was over, was met by wild celebrations from the Burkina Faso players.

[breziarchive]

rrrrrrrrrrrrreal fucking gay boogaloo for Kay who is @floorlimes but it won’t let me tag you anyways enjoy some Sissi/Aelita

valentine’s day boogaloo - guidelines - ko-fi

(requests closed, yadda yadda yadda)

~~

Sissi shut the door with Aelita, only letting Aelita flip the lock since it was her door to begin with. Good. Riddance.

She slid to the floor, her hands following. Why? Why all the time with this? She can't say she had always been good, but she had at least accepted Herve and Nicolas, let them tag around with her, even involved them in pranks (or worse) when she felt like it. Girls like her on TV and in the movies, they were always followed around by vapid and sinister cookie-cutter clique rats—she was followed by reject boys who were, in essence, looking for someone to accept them. And she did. In so many ways, she did.

And the thanks she got was Herve finally growing a pair thanks to confidence he said she gave him—using that pair to hound her out of her own room and into Aelita's. Thank god it was only one of them, but still—Nicolas had Herve's back, or at least not enough balls to tell Herve to back off. To Herve it was clear as day that they were in love or destined to be so, to Sissi...she had a lot going on.

A lifetime's worth of a single father too busy with every other child in the school to do much with her except give her what she wanted, culminating in her being alone even when she was in a group of other people. Girls didn't talk to her even though she became what she thought girls would look up to, and the only boys who talked to her ended up being boys that weren't listening to her. Enter Aelita and her ragtag group of weirdos and for the first time since Sissi's mother left her for nothing she felt her chest torn asunder. Watching them, listening to them be so...so together, inseparable, bonded. Real, really real bonding, not the kind that Herve thought he had with her.

Now she was on the floor of Aelita's room, mind running through all her memories and realizing that the red flags were rising in her peripherals the whole time. We'll believe you when no one else will, so stay with us. Oh, don't cry over that loser, he obviously doesn't understand how great you are, like we do. What does Ulrich have that we don't? Bah! You don't need your mom anyways, why's it such a big deal? You got us!

You got us and you can only have us. That's how it worked.

Well. “Worked”. Until now.

Aelita exhaled, still standing and pressing the door shut. Sissi hadn't known that she could yell like that, Aelita had always seemed sweet and quiet to her with the occasional sharp comeback she must've learned from her cousin. The smartness that was swimming inside wasn't something Aelita flaunted because Aelita didn't flaunt anything. But that yell, that roar, the precise enunciation of her clever and sharp words sent Herve packing, pushed by Nicolas since it seems that Nicolas would actually listen to Aelita.

“Are you alright?”

Sissi gawked at her. The gall. The nerve. To do something like that then ask are you alright?!

“Of course I am!” she snapped, but the tight way her arms folded over her body told otherwise. Aelita stared, unreadable, but pushed one of her cheeks back with her mouth in a smirk that told Sissi that she expected nothing less. Sissi tore her gaze away and hunched her shoulders up.

“Good,” Aelita said, firm but not hard, “Because he'll come back, hungry dogs always do,”

Sissi let out a disgusted snarl as her head dipped down and her nails—done yesterday at her father's expense—dug into her scalp. She felt Aelita's eyes on her again. On some level she knew that Aelita had said that to play into Sissi's fantasy, but as to how aware Aelita was that it was a fantasy, Sissi couldn't say. She heard Aelita kneel down next to her, smoothing out her skirt and straightening her denim jacket. When she spoke next her voice was soft and private.

“How long do you need?”

Sissi opened her mouth, teeth bared, but before the bite could come down her throat closed and she had to swallow what felt like rocks. Enraged that she could feel heat on her face, knowing it showed and knowing tears were brimming and knowing Aelita could see everything, Sissi bit her lip. Gasping, frustrated, she spoke, mousey and defeated.

“H-How long do you have?”

“Don't have any obligations anymore,” Aelita answered. Sissi was lucky she couldn't see her smile, “What do you need?”

Sissi was quiet for a long time. The entire time Aelita was patient, with a gentle stare and closed, soft lips. What did she need? She could scoff and list a million things, all counted off with her fingers until they were reused over and over again. In that list she could throw whatever she wanted as well; a new hair-dryer, a different nail artist, bottles of iced tea, a new mirror, things she could just get from her dad at the snap of a finger and a nod that didn't even really look in her direction. What could would that all be? He didn't know why she wanted it, didn't know that she was pushing her wants because her needs were...were...

She sniffed, thick and loud. Ashamed, she tried to pump a mantra into her head so she could swallow it and push the emotions away. Strong, stoic, above it all, brave—things she had to be, needed to be, because her needs just weren't there. Things that Aelita somehow was but without all of the struggles, it seemed. Sissi pushed the heel of her palm into her forehead until it would surely leave an imprint.

“How are you like this?” Sissi asked. Aelita blinked.

It looked like she had the gut urge to answer and answer honestly, but the more the thoughts turned in her head the more she looked down regretfully. Things she apparently couldn't share. Sissi whipped her chin away, adopting a pompous look as if it scorned but didn't bother her in the slightest. She got it.

“Don't see you hanging around Jeremie so much anymore,” she changed the subject, “Thought you two were. Close.”

“Herve is not the only person I've shouted at,” Aelita answered quietly, “But...Jeremie was different. Right now he doesn't understand. I think we need some time apart, but I'd...like to be friends again. Just not the closeness he thought,”

Sissi snorted, though not dismissively, “Hmph. I always thought those two dorks had more in common than they'd like to think,”

Aelita smiled, sliding her legs out from underneath her to be more comfortable. Sissi caught herself staring at the slope of her calves leading up to thicker thighs hidden by the skirt. Looking away without realizing the significance of her attention, Sissi then frowned.

“Wait, what didn't he understand?” The question came out as it always did with her—without thought, tact, room to breathe. Thankfully Aelita didn't seem to mind, toying with a loose thread in her skirt. Sissi watched the thread wrap around her finger, then unwrap, then ball up, then unwind to wrap again. Something hurt in a way she hadn't felt before but she ignored it.

“Well...,” Aelita mused for a moment, “He didn't...understand that I could still love him, just differently, because I don't think...I don't think I really...fit in with the idea of dating him. Or, anyone like him,”

Sissi arched her brows quizzically, intrigued that Aelita was fumbling to choose her words carefully, almost like she was twelve and new again. Another question in her brusque fashion that for some reason Aelita still didn't seem to mind. The thread tightened around her finger until her skin ballooned around it. Sissi wanted that pressure to release, and that was the moment she realized what the back of her mind had been thinking.

“Come on, Sissi,” Aelita muttered and now the front of her mind was struck with how vulnerable she sounded, “We're neighbors. Haven't you...noticed?”

Tick. Tock. Tick.

Sissi leaned her head back against the door and blurted, “Well, that's gay.”

Aelita smiled. Laughed, just a little. Sissi stared at the window and desperately hoped she didn't see that she was trying to hide her shock. Sure she had noticed. Just hadn't put two and two together yet. But more than Aelita being gay she was starting to put two and two together within herself at the possibility.

“That's why I hope we can still be friends. Once he realizes that I can't help it,” Aelita sighed, “And that I don't want to...,”

“What's it like?” Sissi asked, hoping she allowed a proper amount of a pause before her nerves leapt at the chance to pepper her with questions.

“I mean,” Aelita shrugged, and Sissi started screaming and damning her in her mind for not immediately catching on to what she was really asking, “It's...how it is? It's different because for the most part, I have to...not, you know, you get scared more easily, I think,”

“That's stupid,” Sissi lied through her teeth as she breathed through them as well, “What's there to be scared about?”

Everything, Sissi knew, because she was scared, now, of everything. Aelita stared at her for a very long, very hard time and Sissi felt her pulse in her throat pound and scream in anxiety. There it was. She finally said the offensive, rude thing that would make Aelita clam up and kick her out. There it was, there it always was, as she always did. Great. Quite the clique queen still, even as they were nearing their graduation. The next words out of Aelita's mouth would be get out, or something like that, Sissi could feel it and she was waiting on baited breath.

“Are you scared?”

Sissi whipped her wide stare to Aelita, shocked and hiding it behind repulsion too late, “Wh-What gave you that idea...,”

Aelita put her hand over Sissi's on the floor and she wished, she wished she hadn't audibly squeaked.

“You're trembling, Sissi,”

“I'm not,” she denied emphatically. Aelita kept her gaze steady and Sissi felt herself begin to sweat down her temples. To her relief (or the opposite, whichever decided to rule her the next second) Aelita didn't argue or point out otherwise, because it was true.

Sissi's mouth shook as it hung open, trying to claw the right words out of her mouth. Spit something, anything, something to shove Aelita away. Even if she could just reach up, unlock the door, and leave—it would say enough for her without words.

The way she was saying enough now.

Sissi pressed flat against the door harder than Aelita's lips pressed against hers. Shock. Fear. Then bliss. The loss of thought eased the angle of her knees under her legs laid flat on the floor, her shoulders dropping to a gentle slope. Aelita pulled away. The kiss had been innocent enough; testing, gentle, not forceful. So had Sissi's small oh as it broke.

“Yeah,” Aelita whispered back, “That's what it's like,”

At a loss for words for once, Sissi just looked up from her sunken and relaxed position at Aelita. Her eyes were apprehensive and struggling, but still big and intrigued. The longer Aelita watched the more she felt a demand grow in her.

Fortunately, Aelita was good at reading people.

#code lyoko #valentine's day boogaloo #aelita #aelita stones #sissi delmas #GAYLITA #i had a lot of fun with this one #also i do try somewhat to like #acknowledge that aelita still can be friends with jer #it just.........might take a bit #a lot

[emmaswanchoosesyou]

Part of the Narrative (5/17)

Emma Swan just wants to write the follow-up to her bestselling debut novel, that’s all. But when she gets off to a rough start with her new editor, Killian Jones, she knows it’s not going according to plan. Then, an unexpected figure from Emma’s past reappears and life begins to mirror the crime thriller she’s penning. Suspicion and secrets abound–but love might too. A writer/editor AU with a thriller twist.

Rated E. Story warnings: sexual content, kidnapping, some gore, violence, and minor character death–not to mention salty language! On Ao3 here.

Chapter warnings: It gets porny. And a surprise shows up.

Time to smut it up! And just know that your comments and likes and kudos and reblogs have been cherished and squealed over. Thank you to all the wonderful peeps at @captainswanbigbang for all you’ve done to make this possible, and all the support you’ve given. Sophie @shady-swan-jones made the delightful banner and another photoset that I adore. Kayla @bleebug did some incredible art for the first chapter, which you can check out here. And all the love and thanks to Kris @sambethe for beta-ing this and making it a ton better.

[Ch. 1] [2] [3] [4]

Chapter 5

Emma and Killian go on their first date, and Emma reflects on the connection between them. A surprise visitor shows up, but what do they want?

Emma

Emma took a deep breath as she surveyed herself in the mirror. She knew she looked good, and for the price of her red Herve Leger bandage dress, she’d better. She had left her hair down, curling around her shoulders in a way she knew was fetching.

And she needed it. Needed every bit of confidence she could summon. Killian Jones was...a lot. In a good way, and she was excited, but...she was also nervous.

He was good-looking, intelligent, and talented. All of it made him feel a little out of her league, her recent successes notwithstanding. She knew she was smart, talented, and attractive, too. But part of her--a large part of her--would probably always feel like the orphan she was. A lost girl. Unwanted. Alone.

Then it turned out that the connection she’d felt with Killian was based on more than just pure lust or attraction. He was...he was like her. He’d had a brother, sure, but he’d lost him too.

After their first meeting, she had done her homework on him. She’d found out about the accident, about Milah, about everything that was available to the public. In a way, it had humanized him. Plus, Ruby had told her he’d holed up at Granny’s for days waiting for a chance to speak to her. His professionalism and hard work over the subsequent weeks had further softened her enough that by the time they met so she could hand over her initial materials, she was ready to be friendly. It had felt easy.

And then he sent that damn email.

She had already decided a friendship with him was something she wanted, but to see how very much they had in common--well, it changed things. He clearly understood where she was coming from, and his concern over whether he was crossing a line had been endearing. She hadn’t been able to respond right away, lost in her own emotions. Emma had had a restless night of tossing and turning as she tried to figure out how she wanted to reply. As dawn approached, she finally acknowledged to herself how attracted she was to him. That, on top of everything else they had in common, she wanted to explore what was or could be there, if given the chance.

Whatever was between them, Emma hadn’t felt anything like it for the better part of a decade. And even then, it was different from what it had been like with Neal.

Neal. Emma fought the urge to push away thoughts of him as she had for the past eleven years. Killian’s email to her had been bold, vulnerable. He deserved the same kind of honesty in return. If he wanted to be involved with her, maybe she should share...no, she decided with a shake of her head, it wasn’t time.

She felt the uncertainty of a first date rising in her chest. It had been so long since she’d done this, and the last time had been a disaster. And that had been without any feelings of any kind, at least on her end.

How did people do this? Date? Tell others about their lives, about what mattered to them? What was in their hearts? The best way Emma had to express herself was through her books. Writing it down, it made it easier. Sharing her past, her life, was hard. When she had time to mull over what she was saying, though, and how to say it, when she didn’t have to look the person in the eye as they found out what a mess she was--that was easier.

And with as rough a start as she and Killian had gotten off to, it was probably better to play it cool, let him see some of the best of her. Hell, he’d already figured out she had been in the system, she didn’t need to tell him all the dirty details of what had gone down when she was seventeen. At least not for now.

Giving herself a final approving look and tugging on her dress, Emma buzzed Killian up. She took a deep breath and smiled, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

&&&

Emma opened the door to Killian’s smiling face. “Hello, Swan.”

“Killian,” she began, pausing when she saw his attire. Jesus H. Christ. His usual trousers and button ups were hot, but this...the tight jeans, the leather vest and jacket over a dark button-up...it did things to her.

His nervous grin morphed into a smirk. “I know.” He held out a single red rose to her.

She rolled her eyes as she took the it from him, teasing him lightly. “So modest.”

“Well, it behooves a man to be self-aware,” he said.

She smiled and stepped back, dropping the rose into one of the little milk glass vases she had out on the console table in the hallway. When she turned back around, Killian was still smiling at her. He shook his head.

“Emma...if I forget to say it the rest of the evening, it’s only because I’m too gobsmacked. You look stunning.”

Her lips curved gently. “Thanks. You ready to go? What’s the plan?”

His eyes trailed down her form, lingering on the way the dress clung to her curves. “Give me a minute to appreciate this dress,” he said, reaching out to her, “and then we’ll head to dinner. I made us reservations at one of my favorite places.”

Emma snorted at his ill-disguised lust. “Cool it, Tiger.”

He met her eyes and feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, right,” she said, taking the arm he offered her.

They made their way outside, and Emma tried to ignore how hyper-aware she was of the way his jacket brushed against her bare arm, the heady scent of the cologne he wore, and, really, just how overwhelming Killian himself was.

She started to head toward the T, but he led her to a black Town Car instead. “This way, Swan.”

“Ooh, fancy. Bringing out the big guns, huh?”

“It was no trouble, and you deserve it. Also, the T smells.” He smiled and winked at her.

She couldn’t help it, she laughed happily as she slipped into the car, Killian sliding in next to her as she moved over. “Okay, it totally does. But it’s really not a big deal most of the time.”

“Is that how you get around the city? I’d think you’d want a vehicle of your own.”

Jeez, was her independent streak that visible to the naked eye?

“Oh, I have a car. My old ‘73 Bug,” she said, hoping the nostalgia and melancholy weren’t completely written on her face. “I’ve put a lot of work into that car, but honestly? Walking or taking the T is easier most of the time.”

“I get that. It runs fairly smoothly, even if it isn’t quite at the level of the Tube.”

She bumped his shoulder where he sat next to her. “Hey, don’t mock Boston. It might not be London, but it has a lot to offer.”

His eyes softened as he gazed at her. “That it does.”

Emma blushed. “Anyway, where are we headed?”

“I read excellent things about SRV. Do you know it?”

“I’ve heard of it too, but haven’t been. Shit, am I overdressed?”

“You look perfect. Just dressed enough, in fact,” he said, winking salaciously.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

He leaned into her space. “Cute, am I? Not dashingly handsome, or a rakish rapscallion?”

She gave him an evaluating once-over. “You may have a whole pirate thing going--”

“Ah! The whole Captain Hook imagery, aye?” Killian asked, holding up his prosthetic hand.

“--but just so you know, I don’t pillage and plunder on the first date,” she said, ignoring his interruption.

His answering grin was nothing short of wolfish. “That’s because you haven’t been out with me.”

“Getting cocky, aren’t you?” She pressed two fingers into his shoulder, prodding him back to his side of the car. “No, don’t even go there, Captain Innuendo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Low-hanging fruit and all, you know,” he drawled, but his eyes were crinkled in amusement and he was clearly fighting off a smirk.

She just shook her head at him and faced forward.

&&&

Once they arrived, Killian helped her out of the car and into the restaurant. He’d clearly requested one of the quieter tables toward the back, and Emma appreciated the relative privacy.

“This is lovely, Killian. Thank you.”

“I told you I know how to plan a date, Swan.”

“So you do,” she said, smirking at him. “Lots of practice, huh?”

He scratched behind his ear nervously. “I won’t deny that I did back in the day, but not much since I lost my love, or before that, my hand.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. Foot in mouth disease is definitely a problem of mine. Just...ignore me.”

“No, Emma, it’s fine, really. A lot of people seem to know about Milah and what happened, I just don’t always know who. And I don’t mind speaking of it as much now, unless it bothers you.”

She met his eyes, the earnest look in them making her smile turn a little melancholy and wistful. She knew the whos and whats of the story, but not the feelings behind it. “You must have loved her very much.”

“Aye. And part of me always will. I just...I never dreamed I’d be capable of moving on. Not until very recently.”

Equal parts nerves and excitement rose in her at what she thought he was implying, what he might mean. “Recently, huh?”

He reached across the table for her hand and intertwined their fingers. “Well, I won’t deny that a certain fiery lass with a penchant for writing bestsellers has had something do it. But it--you--helped me see that maybe I’m not the only one suffering. I had been rather self-involved in my grief.”

She nodded in understanding, her nervousness abating. “I know what you mean. In the thick of it, it’s hard to remember that other people are just out there living their lives, some of which are filled with just as much pain and shit as your own.”

“Indeed.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “So...you figured out I was in the system.”

“Like calls to like,” he said, dipping his head in acknowledgment and rubbing his thumb along hers.

“I was in it from the time I was a baby. I was found on the side of the road, and while I was almost adopted a couple of times, it never panned out. I stayed until I was about sixteen, when...I just left.”

His eyes softened. “I can’t imagine being in it that long. It must have been....”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing away from the table.

“Well,” He squeezed her hand and she turned back to him. ”If you don’t mind my saying so, you turned out remarkably well.”

Emma shook her head at him. “Is this the part where you get all flirtatious again?”

“I can if you’d like, but I meant it. Lasting that long in the system has clearly made you very resilient.”

She flushed and shifted uncomfortably. “Thanks. I mean, you obviously know how it goes.”

“Differences between our two countries notwithstanding, yes.” He looked thoughtful, his eyes distant even as they remained on her.

A not entirely awkward silence fell between them and the server came by for their orders. Sipping at her wine--a delightful red from a Tuscan vineyard she couldn't pronounce--Emma cocked her head at Killian. “So what brought you here? London is a pretty hopping town for publishing. Not that I'm not glad you're here…”

A flash of something like discomfort crossed his face, but he replied, “Ah, after Milah passed away, I needed a change. I knew August, and things just...fell together.”

His reply felt a little off, but Emma didn't get the sense he was exactly lying to her. Well, if he was leaving something out, that was his business. She wasn't exactly scrambling to tell him the most painful things in her life either, so she ignored the twinge in her gut and smiled at him.

“Well, I'm glad you’re here.”

“As am I, lass. Oh bugger it, Emma. Sorry.”

She laughed at him. “It’s fine, honestly. It’s different now that it’s not so--I don’t know, we know each other a little better now.”

“And I’d like to know you better still.”

She grinned. “Smooth, Jones, smooth.”

He grinned back at her, eyes twinkling. “I try.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she muttered to herself.

He lifted her hand to his lips and she drew in a breath as he pressed the lightest of kisses to her knuckles.

“It’s interesting, you know? Being successful, fairly happy, in a place like this...with someone like you,” she said, gesturing toward him.

He smirked, cockiness evident in the way he leaned further across the table.

Emma continued, “I mean it. Like, I was always poor, barely scraping by. All the other kids seemed to look down on me. And now I’m here. That little bit of luck, the support of Granny and Ruby, and some hard work. I don’t know, it’s just odd.” She gave a small shrug. “In a good way.”

That indefinable something crossed his face again, but he nodded. “I think I know what you mean. ‘There but for the grace of God, go I’ and all that.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you and Ruby are close then?”

She snorted. “Figured that one out from that visit, did you?”

Killian tried winking at her, a pitiful attempt that was somehow endearing. “Aye, I might have.”

“Yeah, I started working for Granny when I was eighteen…” she said, slipping easily into the story of how she’d come to know the Lucases, and how much they meant to her.

Their food came, and the conversation didn’t slow. Emma was amazed by how at ease she felt around him. She hated that the evening would eventually have to come to an end.

&&&

Hours later, once their meal had ended and they had taken a walk along the Charles River, he flagged a cab for them to take her back to her apartment building. He walked her to the building’s entry, holding her hand the entire time.

Her stomach fluttered the entire walk to the door and she struggled to identify the emotions swirling around her. Giddy. That’s what this feeling was.

“I had a lovely time, Emma,” he said as let go of her hand and pulled the door open for her.

“I did too.” She smiled and took his hand again as she passed. “If you wanted to do this again…”

“I do. Definitely,” he said quickly.

When they reached the elevator, he stopped, looking nervous as he bit at his lower lip. He glanced down at her, seeming indecisive as his gaze drifted to her own lips.

Emma made up her mind for them, and tangled her hand in the open collar of his shirt, pulling him close for a kiss. It started out feverishly intense, and as his tongue met hers, she felt want rising in her. When oxygen became an issue, she pulled back, trailing her fingernails down through the chest hair on display. He shivered, and she took a moment to enjoy how unsteady he looked.

“Do you want to come upstairs for...coffee?”

His eyes darkened and he drew in a shuddering breath. “Aye.”

Killian followed her into her apartment, glancing around at the rather spartan environs as she moved him toward the living room. His eyes fell on her beloved chair, almost as if he recognized it, and he nodded approvingly, seeming ready to comment on it when Emma pulled him onto the couch.

Judging by his silence and the bobbing of his throat, she didn’t think he was about to say anything about the texture of the upholstery. She widened her grin and swung her leg over him so that she was straddling his lap. He gulped as she dragged her lips along his jawline and she hesitated, his seeming reticence making her wonder if he wanted this, if he was ready for it.

(God, she was. Almost embarrassingly so.)

Then the indecision left his expression, and he settled his prosthetic around her waist while he cupped the back of her head with his other hand, pulling her closer to him. Their lips met, and all rational thought flew right out the window.

He kissed her fiercely, hungrily, and she gave as good as she got. He traced his tongue along her lips, and she opened to him. His arms tightened around her as she pulled away and nipped at his bottom lip before throwing herself back into their kiss.

Killian moaned into it, and Emma couldn’t help herself. She rocked her hips against his, the beginnings of his arousal pressing into her and turning her on even more. Normally, this would be the part where she demanded they take off their clothes and get on with it, but this...she didn’t want this to be a one-time thing. Killian would still be there tomorrow, still be part of her life. It was equal parts comforting and thrilling, and she channeled her nerves into further deepening their kiss. She used it to fuel the desperation and passion as she moved against him.

Her dress had ridden up around her hips, and Killian ran his hand down her bare thigh, even as moved away from her lips to trail his mouth along her neck. He nipped at the soft skin, then soothing it with his tongue before moving on. She could feel him straining against her, his erection pressing hard against her core as he thrust up against her.

Just a few layers of fabric, Emma thought a little frantically, and we’d be...She forced the thought to fade, determined to make this last, to enjoy the moment.

She realized that while she had definitely enjoyed his attentions, she had been neglecting exploration of her own. And damn did she want to explore. She shifted in Killian’s lap, and he groaned loudly at her movements.

She shifted and pushed him back so he was lying down on the couch, and she leaned over him, nipping at his ear, tracing its pointed tip with her tongue. His hand tightened around her hip before drifting to her ass. He squeezed lightly, and Emma giggled in his ear before gently biting his stubbled chin.

“God, Emma, you’re a marvel…”

“Mmm…”

Emma was making her way down his neck, pressing lingering kisses to his throat as she drifted down to his exposed collarbones. She had never been more grateful for such an apparent hatred of buttons as she was now, and she sucked a mark into the hollow between his collarbone and shoulder. He hoarsely voiced his enthusiastic approval.

She didn’t stop rubbing herself against him, and he continued to thrust up against her. She shuddered as he did, fairly certain this would be the first time since she was a teenager that she was going to come from dry humping. She was beyond caring at the moment though, because if Killian was this good now, she could only imagine later, when they’d be naked in her bed…

She shuddered in his arms at the thought, pleasure starting to fog her brain as the ridge of his erection pressed along her clit. Then he pulled down the straps of her dress, one at a time. She had to take a breath as the cool air of her apartment hit her breasts.

“Christ, love,” he moaned, his fingers hovering at where the edge of dress hung at her ribs. “You were naked under this dress the whole night?”

She hummed, shifting against him, hoping to encourage him to touch her. “Well, I’m wearing underwear, but yeah.” She had to stop herself from rambling, knowing it would just lead to the mood being killed. And she was so close...

Killian was still staring at her exposed breasts. He looked positively gobsmacked, but Emma wanted--no, needed--more. “You gonna stare all day or actually going to do something about it?”

His eyes snapped up to hers, and he grinned. “Patience, Swan. I like to take my time…” He began a series of light kisses starting at the corner of her mouth, down the center of her chest. “...savor the best things,” he said, nosing along the curve of her breast, his breath warm on her skin, “and make sure we both get what we want.” At that, he closed his mouth over her nipple, biting lightly as he reached up to caress the other with his hand.

She couldn’t hold in her loud moan. Desire for him consumed her, sweeping through her as she clenched her thighs around his hips. “Mmm, Killian, I need…”

“You’re so lovely, Emma. You feel so good. Tell me what you need.”

Instead of answering him in words, she pulled away and made quick work of his vest. She started on his shirt, her movements hampered by the attention he was still lavishing on her chest. She had just succeeded in removing his shirt when a loud knock sounded at the door.

Emma stilled, and Killian pulled back, taking a deep breath. “Swan?”

“I don’t know. If we’re really quiet, maybe they’ll go away,” she whispered.

He chuckled quietly and shook his head against her chest, pressing another kiss to the inside of her breast.

Another loud knock sounded, and she let out frustrated breath as she pulled up the top of her dress, tugging it back to decency before sliding off his lap. Killian sighed, pulling on his shirt and placing one of the couch’s throw pillows in his lap to hide his very obvious erection.

Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long, Emma thought desperately, straightening out her skirt as she walked toward the door.

She looked through the peephole, surprised to see a young boy at the door. He looked oddly familiar, but she couldn’t place him. Knowing her tone was a little rude (but hey, it was late and holy interruption hell), she opened the door and gritted out, “Yes?”

“Are you Emma Swan?”

“I am,” she said cautiously, glancing back at Killian. Who the hell was this kid? A fan? He seemed a little young...

“I’m Henry Mills, and I’m pretty sure I’m the kid you gave up for adoption eleven years ago.”

#cs ff #csbb #captain swan #cs mc ff #cs au #cs crew #amber writes #part of the narrative #i hope you all enjoy this chapter! #if you did please come scream at/with me

[responsivesites]

New Post has been published on Website Design Naples Florida Webmaster

New Post has been published on https://vinbo.com/wordpress-5-4-adderley/

WordPress 5.4 “Adderley”

Here it is! Named “Adderley” in honor of Nat Adderley, the latest and greatest version of WordPress is available for download or update in your dashboard.

Say hello to more and better.

More ways to make your pages come alive. With easier ways to get it all done and looking better than ever—and boosts in speed you can feel.

Welcome to WordPress 5.4

Every major release adds more to the block editor.

More ways to make posts and pages come alive with your best images. More ways to bring your visitors in, and keep them engaged, with the richness of embedded media from the web’s top services.

More ways to make your vision real, and put blocks in the perfect place—even if a particular kind of block is new to you. More efficient processes.

And more speed everywhere, so as you build sections or galleries, or just type in a line of prose, you can feel how much faster your work flows.

Two new blocks. And better blocks overall.

Two brand-new blocks: Social Icons and Buttons make adding interactive features fast and easy.

New ways with color: Gradients in the Buttons and Cover block, toolbar access to color options in Rich Text blocks, and for the first time, color options in the Group and Columns blocks.

Guess a whole lot less! Version 5.4 streamlines the whole process for placing and replacing multimedia in every block. Now it works the same way in almost every block!

And if you’ve ever thought your image in the Media+Text block should link to something else—perhaps a picture of a brochure should download that brochure as a document? Well, now it can.

Cleaner UI, clearer navigation—and easier tabbing!

Clearer block navigation with block breadcrumbs. And easier selection once you get there.

For when you need to navigate with the keyboard, better tabbing and focus. Plus, you can tab over to the sidebar of nearly any block.

Speed! 14% faster loading of the editor, 51% faster time-to-type!

Tips are gone. In their place, a Welcome Guide window you can bring up when you need it—and only when you need it—again and again.

Know at a glance whether you’re in a block’s Edit or Navigation mode. Or, if you have restricted vision, your screen reader will tell you which mode you’re in.

Of course, if you want to work with the very latest tools and features, install the Gutenberg plugin. You’ll get to be the first to use new and exciting features in the block editor before anyone else has seen them!

Your fundamental right: privacy

5.4 helps with a variety of privacy issues around the world. So when users and stakeholders ask about regulatory compliance, or how your team handles user data, the answers should be a lot easier to get right.

Take a look:

Now personal data exports include users session information and users location data from the community events widget. Plus, a table of contents!

See progress as you process export and erasure requests through the privacy tools.

Plus, little enhancements throughout give the privacy tools a little cleaner look. Your eyes will thank you!

Just for developers

Add custom fields to menu items—natively

Two new actions let you add custom fields to menu items—without a plugin and without writing custom walkers.

On the Menus admin screen, wp_nav_menu_item_custom_fields fires just before the move buttons of a nav menu item in the menu editor.

In the Customizer, wp_nav_menu_item_custom_fields_customize_template fires at the end of the menu-items form-fields template.

Check your code and see where these new actions can replace your custom code, and if you’re concerned about duplication, add a check for the WordPress version.

Blocks! Simpler styling, new APIs and embeds

Radically simpler block styling. Negative margins and default padding are gone! Now you can style blocks the way you need them. And, a refactor got rid of four redundant wrapper divs.

If you build plugins, now you can register collections of your blocks by namespace across categories—a great way to get more brand visibility.

Let users do more with two new APIs: block variations and gradients.

In embeds, now the block editor supports TikTok—and CollegeHumor is gone.

There’s lots more for developers to love in WordPress 5.4. To discover more and learn how to make these changes shine on your sites, themes, plugins and more, check the WordPress 5.4 Field Guide.

The Squad

This release was led by Matt Mullenweg, Francesca Marano, and David Baumwald. They were enthusiastically supported by a release squad:

Editor Tech: Jorge Filipe Costa (@jorgefelipecosta)

Editor Design: Mark Uraine (@mapk)

Core Tech: Sergey Biryukov (@sergeybiryukov)

Design: Tammie Lister (@karmatosed)

Docs Coordinator: JB Audras (@audrasjb)

Docs & Comms Wrangler: Mary Baum (@marybaum)

The squad was joined throughout the release cycle by 552 generous volunteer contributors who collectively worked on 361 tickets on Trac and 1226 pull requests on GitHub.

Put on a Nat Adderley playlist, click that update button (or download it directly), and check the profiles of the fine folks that helped:

0v3rth3d4wn, 123host, 1naveengiri, Aaron Jorbin, Abhijit Rakas, abrightclearweb, acosmin, Adam Silverstein, adamboro, Addie, adnan.limdi, Aezaz Shaikh, Aftab Ali Muni, Aki Björklund, Akib, Akira Tachibana, akshayar, Alain Schlesser, Albert Juhé Lluveras, Alex Concha, Alex Mills, AlexHolsgrove, alexischenal, alextran, alishankhan, allancole, Allen Snook, alpipego, Amir Seljubac, Amit Dudhat, Amol Vhankalas, Amr Gawish, Amy Kamala, Anantajit JG, Anders Norén, Andrés, Andrea Fercia, Andrea Tarantini, andreaitm, Andrei Draganescu, Andrew Dixon, Andrew Duthie, Andrew Nacin, Andrew Ozz, Andrew Serong, Andrew Wilder, Andrey Savchenko, Andy Fragen, Andy Meerwaldt, Andy Peatling, Angelika Reisiger, Ankit Panchal, Anthony Burchell, Anthony Ledesma, apedog, Apermo, apieschel, Aravind Ajith, archon810, arenddeboer, Ari Stathopoulos, Arslan Ahmed, ashokrd2013, Ataur R, Ate Up With Motor, autotutorial, Ayesh Karunaratne, BackuPs, bahia0019, Bappi, Bart Czyz, ben.greeley, benedictsinger, Benjamin Intal, bibliofille, bilgilabs, Birgir Erlendsson, Birgit Pauli-Haack, BMO, Boga86, Boone Gorges, Brad Markle, Brandon Kraft, Brent Swisher, Cameron Voell, Carolina Nymark, ceyhun0, Chetan Prajapati, Chetan Satasiya, Chintesh Prajapati, Chip Snyder, Chris Klosowski, Chris Trynkiewicz (Sukces Strony), Chris Van Patten, Christian Sabo, Christiana Mohr, clayisland, Copons, Corey McKrill, crdunst, Csaba (LittleBigThings), Dademaru, Damián Suárez, Daniel Bachhuber, Daniel James, Daniel Llewellyn, Daniel Richards, Daniele Scasciafratte, daniloercoli, Darren Ethier (nerrad), darrenlambert, Dave Mackey, Dave Smith, daveslaughter, DaveWP196, David Artiss, David Binovec, David Herrera, David Ryan, David Shanske, David Stone, Debabrata Karfa, dekervit, Delowar Hossain, Denis Yanchevskiy, Dhaval kasavala, dhurlburtusa, Dilip Bheda, dingo-d, Dion Hulse, dipeshkakadiya, djp424, dominic_ks, Dominik Schilling, Dotan Cohen, dphiffer, dragosh635, Drew Jaynes, eclev91, ecotechie, eden159, Edi Amin, edmundcwm, Eduardo Toledo, Ella van Durpe, Ellen Bauer, Emil E, Enrique Piqueras, Enrique Sánchez, equin0x80, erikkroes, Estela Rueda, Fabian, Fabian Kägy, Fahim Murshed, Faisal Alvi, Felipe Elia, Felipe Santos, Felix Arntz, Fernando Souza, fervillz, fgiannar, flaviozavan, Florian TIAR, Fotis Pastrakis, Frank Martin, Gal Baras, Garrett Hyder, Gary Jones, Gary Pendergast, Gaurang Dabhi, George Stephanis, geriux, Girish Panchal, Gleb Kemarsky, Glenn, Goto Hayato, grafruessel, Greg Rickaby, Grzegorz Ziółkowski, Grzegorz.Janoszka, Gustavo Bordoni, gwwar, hamedmoodi, hAmpzter, happiryu, Hareesh Pillai, Harry Milatz, Haz, helgatheviking, Henry Holtgeerts, Himani Lotia, Hubert Kubiak, i3anaan, Ian Belanger, Ian Dunn, ianatkins, ianmjones, IdeaBox Creations, Ihtisham Zahoor, intimez, Ipstenu (Mika Epstein), Isabel Brison, ispreview, Jake Spurlock, Jakub Binda, James Huff, James Koster, James Nylen, jameslnewell, Janki Moradiya, Jarret, Jasper van der Meer, jaydeep23290, jdy68, Jean-Baptiste Audras, Jean-David Daviet, Jeff Bowen, Jeff Ong, Jeff Paul, Jeffrey Carandang, jeichorn, Jenil Kanani, Jenny Wong, jepperask, Jer Clarke, Jeremy Felt, Jeremy Herve, Jeroen Rotty, Jerry Jones, Jessica Lyschik, Jip Moors, Joe Dolson, Joe Hoyle, Joe McGill, Joen Asmussen, John Blackbourn, John James Jacoby, John Watkins, Jon, Jon Quach, Jon Surrell, Jonathan Desrosiers, Jonathan Goldford, Jonny Harris, Jono Alderson, Joonas Vanhatapio, Joost de Valk, Jorge Bernal, Jorge Costa, Josepha Haden, JoshuaWold, Joy, jqz, jsnajdr, Juanfra Aldasoro, Julian Weiland, julian.kimmig, Juliette Reinders Folmer, Julio Potier, Junko Nukaga, jurgen, justdaiv, Justin Ahinon, K. Adam White, kaggdesign, KalpShit Akabari, Kantari Samy, Kaspars, Kelly Dwan, Kennith Nichol, Kevin Hagerty, Kharis Sulistiyono, Khushbu Modi, killerbishop, kinjaldalwadi, kitchin, Kite, Kjell Reigstad, kkarpieszuk, Knut Sparhell, KokkieH, Konstantin Obenland, Konstantinos Xenos, Krystyna, kubiq, kuflievskiy, Kukhyeon Heo, kyliesabra, Laken Hafner, leandroalonso, leogermani, lgrev01, linuxologos, lisota, Lorenzo Fracassi, luisherranz, luisrivera, lukaswaudentio, Lukasz Jasinski, Luke Cavanagh, Lydia Wodarek, M A Vinoth Kumar, maciejmackowiak, Mahesh Waghmare, Manzoor Wani, marcelo2605, Marcio Zebedeu, MarcoZ, Marcus Kazmierczak, Marek Dědič, Marius Jensen, Marius84, Mark Jaquith, Mark Marzeotti, Mark Uraine, Martin Stehle, Marty Helmick, Mary Baum, Mat Gargano, Mat Lipe, Mathieu Viet, Matias Ventura, Matt Keys, Matt van Andel, mattchowning, Matthew Kevins, mattnyeus, maxme, mayanksonawat, mbrailer, Mehidi Hassan, Mel Choyce-Dwan, mensmaximus, Michael Arestad, Michael Ecklund, Michael Panaga, Michelle Schulp, miette49, Miguel Fonseca, Miguel Torres, mihdan, Miina Sikk, Mikael Korpela, Mike Auteri, Mike Hansen, Mike Schinkel [WPLib Box project lead], Mike Schroder, mikejdent, Mikko Saari, Milan Patel, Milan Petrovic, mimi, mircoraffinetti, mjnewman, mlbrgl, Morgan Estes, Morteza Geransayeh, mppfeiffer, mryoga, Muhammad Usama Masood, mujuonly, Mukesh Panchal, Nadir Seghir, nagoke, Nahid Ferdous Mohit, Nate Finch, Nazmul Ahsan, nekomajin, NextScripts, Nick Daugherty, Nick Halsey, Nicklas Sundberg, Nicky Lim, nicolad, Nicolas Juen, nicole2292, Niels Lange, nikhilgupte, nilamacharya, noahtallen, noyle, nsubugak, oakesjosh, oldenburg, Omar Alshaker, Otto Kekäläinen, Ov3rfly, Paal Joachim Romdahl, page-carbajal, pagewidth, Paragon Initiative Enterprises, Pascal Birchler, Pascal Casier, Paul Bearne, Paul Biron, Paul Kevin, Paul Schreiber, pcarvalho, Pedro Mendonça, perrywagle, Peter Wilson, Philip Jackson, Pierre Gordon, Pierre Lannoy, pikamander2, Prashant Singh, Pratik Jain, Presskopp, Priyanka Behera, Raam Dev, Rachel Cherry, Rachel Peter, ragnarokatz, Rami Yushuvaev, raoulunger, razamalik, Remco Tolsma, rephotsirch, rheinardkorf, Riad Benguella, Ricard Torres, Rich Tabor, rimadoshi, Rinku Y, Rob Cutmore, rob006, Robert Anderson, Roi Conde, Roland Murg, Rostislav Wolný, Roy Tanck, Russell Heimlich, Ryan, Ryan Fredlund, Ryan McCue, Ryan Welcher, Ryo, Sébastien SERRE, sablednah, Sampat Viral, Samuel Wood (Otto), SamuelFernandez, Sander, santilinwp, Sathiyamoorthy V, Schuhwerk, Scott Reilly, Scott Taylor, scruffian, scvleon, Sebastian Pisula, Sergey Biryukov, Sergio de Falco, sergiomdgomes, sgastard, sgoen, Shaharia Azam, Shannon Smith, shariqkhan2012, Shawntelle Coker, sheparddw, Shital Marakana, Shizumi Yoshiaki, simonjanin, sinatrateam, sirreal, skorasaurus, smerriman, socalchristina, Soren Wrede, spenserhale, sproutchris, squarecandy, starvoters1, SteelWagstaff, steevithak, Stefano Minoia, Stefanos Togoulidis, steffanhalv, Stephen Bernhardt, Stephen Edgar, Steve Dufresne, Steve Grunwell, stevenlinx, Stiofan, straightvisions GmbH, stroona.com, Subrata Mal, Subrata Sarkar, Sultan Nasir Uddin, swapnild, Sybre Waaijer, Sérgio Estêvão, Takayuki Miyauchi, Takeshi Furusato, Tammie Lister, Tanvirul Haque, TBschen, tdlewis77, Tellyworth, Thamaraiselvam, thefarlilacfield, ThemeZee, Tim Havinga, Tim Hengeveld, timon33, Timothée Brosille, Timothy Jacobs, Tkama, tmanoilov, tmatsuur, tobifjellner (Tor-Bjorn Fjellner), Tom Greer, Tom J Nowell, tommix, Toni Viemerö, Toro_Unit (Hiroshi Urabe), torres126, Torsten Landsiedel, Towhidul Islam, tristangemus, tristanleboss, tsuyoring, Tung Du, Udit Desai, Ulrich, upadalavipul, Utsav tilava, Vaishali Panchal, Valentin Bora, Varun Shanbhag, Veminom, Vinita Tandulkar, virgodesign, Vlad. S., vortfu, waleedt93, WebMan Design | Oliver Juhas, websupporter, Weston Ruter, William Earnhardt, William Patton, wpgurudev, WPMarmite, wptoolsdev, xedinunknown-1, yale01, Yannicki, Yordan Soares, Yui, zachflauaus, Zack Tollman, Zebulan Stanphill, Zee, and zsusag.

Many thanks to all of the community volunteers who contribute in the support forums. They answer questions from people across the world, whether they are using WordPress for the first time or since the first release. These releases are more successful for their efforts!

Finally, thanks to all the community translators who worked on WordPress 5.4. Their efforts bring WordPress fully translated to 46 languages at release time, with more on the way.

If you want to learn more about volunteering with WordPress, check out Make WordPress or the core development blog.

Original source: https://wordpress.org/news/2020/03/adderley/

[bigyack-com]

Wendell Rodricks, the designer who dared to tell the truth - books

Those who follow Indian fashion would know that designer Wendell Rodricks can be credited with many firsts in his career. He was the designer who made resort wear a mainstream idea much before the Herve Leger loving fashionistas in India discovered the sexiness of a kaftan. In the early days of Fashion Weeks in India, he was the one who put real women across sizes and ages at one of his fashion shows in Delhi, cheekily opening the way for an inclusive fashion debate. More than a decade ago, I remember him offering a chance to model to one of my friends, a proud plus size woman, who couldn’t believe what she just heard.

Goan market scene ( Poskem: Goans in the Shadows by Wendell Rodricks; Illustrations by Mario Miranda ) There are countless stories of Wendells’ kindness. It is well-known in fashion circles how he helped many fashion models, gave them a space to launch which even steered Bollywood careers for some. Rodricks also brought with him a certain sense of easy fluidity in Indian fashion that one hadn’t really seen before. But the Padma Shri recipient did not keep his activism just to fashion. He openly spoke about gay rights, environmental issues and even in the midst of glam, glitz and hullabaloo Mumbai offers for a designer, he chose to make the quietude of Goa his home. A state, he loved with reverence and a state he called his happy place. And it is also the truth about this state that he did not shy away from revealing. In the summer of 2017, Rodricks set upon talking about something more about Goa than just the sun and susegad as we know it. He wrote a commendable book on a secret Goan tradition carefully kept under the wraps; well up until now. In his book titled Poskem, Rodricks wrote about the Goan tradition of keeping Poskims. Poskim (plural Poskem) is a Portuguese term for young children from poor families who were adopted by rich families in Goa and made to stay with them. Forever. And while this sounds like an honourable idea, Rodricks minced no words in explaining that charity ended there. The young children were kept mostly as servants. Denied with a right to education and an inheritance in the family, Rodricks had seen many such Poskims leading a life of unfair, unfullfilment.

Goan Aristocrat family ( Poskem: Goans in the Shadows by Wendell Rodricks; Illustrations by Mario Miranda ) Talking to me in the summer of 2017, Rodricks explained that even though the tradition was dying and Goa may be seeing its last generation of Poskims it was important to blow the lid off that shameful past. He admitted that while many agreed that the practice was a cruel reminder of what bonded labour in contemporary world could look like; he was met with scepticism and shock from the locals about his book. Not many celebrities I know of would want to uncover an embarrassing past from their own families but Rodricks was different. He was unfazed when he told me: “I am ashamed to say there were Poskim in our family history. Though we were friends with them, we knew from the onset that they had a different place in the family and were technically not to be treated as family. They did not sit at the table with us at mealtimes, did not sit near us in church, spent most of their time in the kitchen, did household chores, did not go to school and were always in the shadows, away from our comparatively privileged lives. The worst part was that the entire village called them by that dreaded name. Girls were called Poskem, boys Posko and collectively they were called Poskim.”

Street in the Latin Quarter of Fontainhas, Panjim ( Poskem: Goans in the Shadows by Wendell Rodricks; Illustrations by Mario Miranda ) Interestingly, even though Rodricks’ life was full of high-profile engagements and glossy events, he did not forget the real reason he wrote his second book – a Poskim named Rosa. Rosa was Rodricks’ neighbour who lived alone during her last years. Treated by neighbours in a condescending manner for her past, Rosa and Wendell struck an unlikely friendship based on kindness. They would chat about their lives and send food to each other. Wendell remembered that Rosa had never seen the interiors of his house. He told me: “If I called her (Rosa) for a cup of tea, she would say, “But you are a Bhatkar (landlord) I am too small a person to have tea with you.” That pained me. When Rosa died, I promised at her coffin that I would write about the Poskim – the forgotten Goans in the shadows.”

Goa Map ( Poskem: Goans in the Shadows by Wendell Rodricks; Illustrations by Mario Miranda ) Wendell kept his promise, he honoured not just Rosa but many such children who were unfortunate and couldn’t live their best lives. With his book, Wendell remembered them during his best moments.While most people remember Rodricks for his easy, breezy fashion and cool camaraderie with his Bollywood pals; but he was also a man whose life was touched by the unfortunate. And that is his true legacy.Follow more stories on Facebook and Twitter Read the full article

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