#in Spain we are so used to it it's like a tradition

[silenzahra]

Luigi the Bookworm 📚✨

Today, April 23rd, we celebrate Book Day in Spain with a beautiful tradition: gifting books and roses. In the past few months, I've started to see Luigi, my favorite Mario character, as a bookworm, thanks to some art pieces like this one, by Mikis_art94 on Instagram, and this one, a short comic by Sarahsketckesluigi, also on Instagram.

And, since I'm also a bookworm myself, I thought of celebrating this day by sharing with you my own take on Luigi's bookish side 🤭 Warning: this is gonna be LONG, so make sure to grab some drinks and snacks and make yourselves comfortable! 💖

(Also, I may go and turn some of these into actual fanfics at some point because, well... I got myself inspired 👀🤭✨)

Please go and check this amazing post by @itsavee4117! It's a companion to this one and you can see many of my headcanons illustrated in his lovely art style!!! 📚💖

@bberetd @vulpixfairy1985 @peaches2217 @nuctoria @keakruiser

@pepperycar @kelbreyworshipper @roscolate and anyone else who might be interested: I hope you enjoy! Happy Book Day! 📚🥀✨

Part 1: Luigi's Bookish Side

Luigi is a person who tends to get excited easily, and when he does, he experiences those feelings with great intensity. This applies to all aspects of his life, and reading, one of his greatest passions, is no exception.

In terms of genres, Luigi is generally open to read anything. He enjoys realistic novels, historical novels, classic novels, mystery novels, sci-fi novels... And he also reads books about gardening, cooking, baking and mechanics from time to time. The only things he’s unable to consume are thrillers and horror. He's tried, but, with all the times he's had to face King Boo, he's had more than enough terror and frights to last him a lifetime, thank you very much.

His favorite genres are fantasy and romance. The former, because traveling to made-up worlds allows him to forget about his real-life problems and offers him an escape from his daily life, which can often be exhausting. The second, because he’s a complete romantic who loves to see people loving each other and living happily ever after. And also... because of something that has to do with Daisy.

Luigi lives every book he reads with the same intensity. For him, it's as if the characters really existed, as if they were his friends, people he can talk to, share common interests with, and also help to achieve their purposes in life (i.e. in the books they’re from).

And maybe... just maybe... he's fallen in love more than once while reading and now he has a loooong list of literary crushes thet only keeps growing.

So, when he’s reading, Luigi laughs with the characters, cries when one of them suffers or dies, his heart tearing in his chest, and is deeply moved every time a tender moment occurs, such as a kiss, a hug or a cute scene involving, for example, a baby or an animal.

His favorite stories are those about siblings. Not only because he enjoys reading family stories, but also because, without even thinking about it, he often finds it easy to put himself in the place of the younger sibling. For him, therefore, it’s as if he were reading a story starring himself and his beloved brother Mario, and he loves to imagine that they’re going on adventures together in an unknown world. Almost like when they first arrived in the Mushroom Kingdom.

Over the years, Luigi has gathered quite a collection of books, so Mario, the moment they move into the little house in the Mushroom Kingdom that Peach offered them, doesn't hesitate to suggest to his brother that he use the extra room to build himself a small library. Luigi is not too sure at first, thinking that maybe his brother would like to have an office, but Mario insists.

So Luigi has a small library in his new home, which he soon fills to the top with books, and it’s his pride and joy. He and Mario assembled the bookshelves together, which they brought all the way from Brooklyn, and now Luigi has a wonderful reading nook where he can isolate himself to let his imagination run wild for hours. It is, along with the bedroom he shares with Mario, his favorite room in the whole house.

For Luigi, reading is something so important, meaningful and almost sacred in his life, that he has a whole ritual that he performs every time he sits down to read. He has a rocking chair in his small library, a present from his brother when they moved to live in the Mushroom Kingdom, and he has it placed right next to the window and in front of the fireplace. He likes to be able to see the sky when he looks up from his reading, and he usually stares at the clouds or the stars while he daydreams about or reflects on what he has just read. During the summer, he usually keeps it open, as he loves to read in natural light while the gentle breeze from Peach's land cools him, and in winter he keeps it firmly closed while the fireplace warms him.

Luigi loves to light a scented candle to help him get in the perfect mood for reading. His favorite scent is vanilla, as it reminds him of his favorite princess, but he also loves lavender and cinnamon. He usually makes himself a hot drink, sometimes tea, sometimes chocolate, and brings a nice blanket to warm up, which is why his favorite time to read is the coldest time of the year, especially autumn. He also prepares his set of post-its to mark his favorite sentences and parts of the book, and he has a ritual for colors too: yellow for funny moments, blue for sentences that make him reflect on them, red or pink for romantic scenes…

Luigi knows that there are many people who write directly in their books, but, for him, that is unthinkable. He sees books as a valuable and precious object, a repository of stories that helps him disconnect from reality and let his imagination run wild. He respects what everyone does with their books, but he’s simply incapable. Especially if it’s a book he has been given as a gift.

His favorite copies are hardcover, even more so if they include a dust jacket. He treasures all his books with the same affection, but those are undoubtedly his weak point. The most precious of all is a hardcover, dust-jacketed edition of his favorite book, which was a present from Mario, and which also has painted edges.

Usually, when it's time to read, Mario is either napping, spending quality time with Peach, or doing something else around the house. Polterpup, on the other hand, takes the opportunity to approach his owner and, if it's summer, lie at his feet while he reads. If it's winter, however, Polterpup will jump into Luigi's lap without his permission and cuddle up and fall asleep immediately, before Luigi even has time to recover from the fright and resume reading. (Check out @pepperycar's funny addition to this!)

Luigi is a speed reader. Usually, when he starts reading, he doesn't intend to go too fast. It's just that, after so many years reading, his eyes have acquired an astonishing speed, and he’s able to retain every word in his head despite going through them very quickly. Also, if a book really hooks him, he’s unable to put it down until he finishes it, which has caused him to stay up late several nights and go to work half asleep the next day, but it's always totally worth it. Because of this ability, he can finish books of about 300-400 pages in just a few hours, and sometimes also 500 if he gets caught up completely.

Luigi LOVES to buy books. His favorite visits are to Sarasaland and the bookstore, and he also does a lot of online shopping to support small publishers. Every time a new book comes home, he gets excited as if it's the first time, and always asks Mario to please record him while he's unboxing it. Mario unhesitatingly stands on the other side of the camera and makes sure that every shot is perfect and that the book looks great, and Luigi, delighted and grateful, always gives him the tightest and most spontaneous hugs every time they finish filming.

And, of course, once he has the book in his hands, Luigi squeals and kicks, excited, as he waves it in the air like maracas before hugging it tightly to his chest. And, when the book is a present from someone dear to him, he acts exactly the same, only he ends up crying and thanking again and again the person who gave it to him while, again, he presses the book against himself as if his life depended on it.

Luigi is VERY much a fan of merchandising. He loves collecting bookmarks, he has such a huge collection that he's had to divide it into several drawers, and every time he’s going to start a new reading, he tends to spend more time deciding which bookmark will be the most suitable than choosing the book itself. He’s also bought a few literary stickers and some printed works of his favorite books, like fanarts of different scenes or characters illustrated by various artists, which he's hung on a corkboard. And, of course, since his books are the most precious thing he has, he’s also bought many literary covers from different small artists' stores, so that he can keep his books well protected when he carries them around.

Luigi is the kind of person who takes a book with him everywhere. A doctor's appointment? Book in backpack in case the wait gets longer. Public transport? He can't think of a better way to spend it than reading. He even takes them with him when he meets up with Mario, Peach and Toad, just in case his brother and the princess get lovey-dovey, and Toad falls asleep. And, if there's one thing Luigi likes better than sleeping in nature, it's reading in nature.

Part 2: The Reader Brother

Luigi has loved reading since he was very young. When he and Mario were babies, their parents used to tell them a bedtime story, sometimes Pio, sometimes Mia, and Luigi always listened very attentively. He would gawk listening to them and loved how they used to put voices and even recreate some scenes to make them laugh.

Mario also listened very interested, but being a more energetic baby, he used to fall asleep about halfway through the story, with his head resting on Luigi's shoulder and his arm firmly around his brother's waist. Their parents would drool, but they had to continue, for Luigi, even if he was struggling to keep his eyes open, wasn’t going to go to sleep without knowing the ending.

Only then, with a satisfied smile, he would hug his brother back, curl up next to him, close his eyes, and put his thumb in his mouth to get ready for sleep. By then, Mario was completely asleep, clinging to Luigi like a koala to a eucalyptus tree, and their parents had to make great efforts not to melt as they tucked them in and kissed them goodnight.

Since then, both brothers have grown up being great lovers of stories, only that, while Luigi loves books, Mario prefers to consume them in movies or video games. Even so, these are all hobbies that the brothers share, as they love to immerse themselves in a good story that helps them escape from reality for a while.

When Luigi gets emotional about a book he’s reading or has just read, Mario immediately comes to his side to hug and comfort him. He knows that, even if it's fiction, his brother has lived through it all in such a way that his feelings, of sadness, joy or emptiness at having finished a great story, are real and intense. And Mario would never judge him for it.

Luigi is deeply grateful not only that his brother comforts him, but that he listens to him talk endlessly about what has just happened in the book he’s reading, and even catches his emotions. Mario may not cry, but he feels his brother's sadness as if it were his own. Fortunately, the same thing happens when Luigi is happy or excited because of a book, and even on the few occasions when Luigi has gotten angry with a character, Mario has giggled under his breath before calming him down, because he finds it extremely tender.

Luigi usually goes to the bookstore at least once a week, and Mario, since they were teenagers, has almost always accompanied him. The only exceptions were when Mario was dating Pauline, and Luigi had no problem paying his weekly visit to the bookstore by himself, but, deep down, he missed Mario.

His brother also loves to accompany him, because, despite not being as much of a reader as Luigi, he enjoys watching him go back and forth from one shelf to another, pointing out the books he’s already read and the ones he wants to read. Also, when he gets the chance to buy a new one, Mario is amused to see Luigi picking up one book after another and trying to load them all and then deciding which one to take home.

Of course, Mario immediately offers to help him carry the books so that Luigi can keep picking up more if he wants to, and Luigi appreciates it from the bottom of his heart. And also that, again, Mario listens to him chatting incessantly about why each book has caught his attention and why he has such a hard time making up his mind.

Mario always tries to guide him in the best possible way: "What do you feel like reading more right now?" "Is it part of a series or is it a standalone?" "Is the sequel already out or would you have to wait?" "Did you like this or that author better?"

And Luigi thanks him deeply for his advice and questions because, that way, he manages to discern which book he really wants to buy that time.

The best way to surprise Luigi, the best birthday and Christmas present, will always be a book. Mario knows this, and that's why he doesn't hesitate to ask his brother to show him his long and endless lists of books he wants to purchase, as well as discreetly taking notes every time he goes to the bookstore with him. Luigi cherishes every book his brother has gifted him like the priceless treasures they are to him.

Sometimes Luigi runs into space problems. Even though his bookshelf is large and spacious, there’s a limit to everything. In those moments when he’s overwhelmed because he doesn't know where to place his new acquisitions, Mario always comes to the rescue: he immediately offers to hang a new shelf on the wall, or to look for another bookshelf to place in some free space in the room, or, directly, he stares at Luigi's shelf with a frown and his hand on his chin for a few moments, before taking the new books from his brother's arms and, displaying his skills playing Tetris, manages to find room to place them.

He loves to do it not only because he enjoys applying in real life what he has learned playing video games, but above all because of the relieved smile that blooms on Luigi's lips when he sees that Mario has found the perfect solution.

Luigi loves going to literary events where he can meet his favorite authors and have his books signed, but he tends to get so nervous that he always gets stuck for words and sweats a lot, which embarrasses him deeply.

The first time, in fact, Luigi was so shocked to have his favorite author in front of him that he fainted. When he woke up in the ambulance, he was so embarrassed that nothing Mario, who, of course, always accompanies him, said succeeded in comforting him.

He only calmed down a bit at home, when, alone with Mario, he began to silently cry without even realizing it, and his brother, not uttering a word, sat down in front of him, worried, and wrapped him gently in his arms. He pressed the back of Luigi's neck softly to make him rest his head on his shoulder and stroked his back gently, his heart aching at each new sob that escaped his brother's throat.

It took him many, many years to convince Luigi to go to an event again, for Luigi feared the same thing would happen to him again. He didn't want to make a fool of himself like that ever again, especially not in front of writers he deeply admires.

So Mario decided that they would practice: he dressed as much as he could like Luigi's favorite author, watched as many videos as he could on the internet to soak up his personality and find out what kind of books they wrote, and pretended to be them again and again, relentlessly, until Luigi, little by little, managed to exchange a few words with him.

It took them many attempts, because, despite knowing it was his brother, Luigi had no trouble getting into the situation due to his overflowing imagination. Mario had to step out of character several times to try to calm him down and help him regulate his breathing.

Luckily, thanks to Mario's efforts, eventually it worked, and Luigi, a few years later, found himself back at an event and able to chat for a few minutes with the writers he read, even though his heart was beating frantically in his chest and excitement was flooding his insides.

He will never be able to thank his brother for his infinite patience, but Mario always plays it down tenderly. He keeps assuring him that it was not patience, but his deep and sincere love for his younger brother and his eagerness to help him fulfill his wishes.

Part 3: Royalty + Luaisy

Ever since the brothers met Princess Peach, she and Luigi have been, little by little, building up a beautiful friendship that grows every day, just like the sweet romantic relationship between her and Mario.

It didn't take long for Peach to discover Luigi's bookish side, and it made her eager and excited, as she has always enjoyed reading and loves to comment on the books she reads in great detail.

So she didn't hesitate to take Luigi to the huge library of her castle, and she smiled, touched, as she saw the amazement with which Luigi observed its towering shelves, turning on himself in the center of the room as he tried to take it all in.

Since then, Peach and Luigi have become reading buddies. The two of them love to immerse themselves in a good story, read together in the castle library while comfortably sipping tea and, of course, comment on what they have just read and exchange views. Luigi even ends up causing Peach to also take a liking to collecting bookmarks and literary merchandising.

They often do joint readings: they discover a book they both feel like reading and set a series of goals to try to read it at the same pace, so they can discuss it as they go along. Sometimes, however, Luigi discovers that Peach hasn't read one of his favorite books, so he doesn't hesitate to read it with her so he can see her reactions, and vice versa. They love to share their anger, their cries and their joys, for it fills their hearts with bliss and emotion that they have someone by their side who understands perfectly well what they’re feeling and why.

They enjoy hearing what this or that scene has made the other feel, or what they think of this or that character, because it helps them to see things from a point of view that, perhaps, they had not considered before. Reading enriches them, but their literary conversations enrich them even more.

And Mario, of course, is delighted that the two most important people in his life have forged such a strong, deep bond and spend so much quality time together, sharing one of their greatest passions. Often, unbeknownst to them, he stands watching them as they read in the library and gets a silly grin on his face when he sees them laughing together after chatting a bit about their readings.

When it comes to Prince Peasley, on the other hand, Luigi is the one who watches him while smiling, mesmerized, as the prince, always so elegant and sophisticated, has an exquisite oratory and knows how to strike the perfect tone every time a character intervenes, and also to confer the right emotion when it comes to the narrator. And Luigi, besides staring at him, enraptured by the fabulousness of his figure, also listens to him spellbound. He would almost say that he enjoys reading more when his beloved prince is the one who narrates, and plays, the stories.

Princess Daisy, due to her energetic nature, is not much prone to reading. She prefers more dynamic activities where she can unleash not only her endless energy, but also her competitive side. Even so, she knows and respects the value of books, having grown up well aware of their importance in safeguarding and protecting the history of her kingdom. (@kelbreyworshipper you may like these ones!)

But when she meets Luigi, she begins to show a slight interest in reading, something that at first was only born so that she could have something to talk to him about. Fortunately, Luigi, despite his initial shyness, doesn't need more than a mention of literature to start talking nonstop about his favorite stories and how much they make him feel. And Daisy, not even realizing it, finds herself listening to him entranced, very attentive to his every word and genuinely understanding why there are people, like Luigi, who find reading so exciting.

Over time, she starts asking him for book recommendations, which he happily obliges, and Daisy discovers that she actually enjoys reading, especially stories with tons of action. Still, what she likes the most about this is Luigi's thrilled and moved expression when he finds out she's actually listened to him, read the book he recommended and, therefore, now they can fangirl together. She falls even harder for him because of the cute little face he makes.

Sensing that her interest in him is growing and that it may be mutual, Daisy decides to invite Luigi to Sarasaland Castle to show him her library. At first she doesn't tell him what she has invited him for, which makes Luigi VERY nervous, as he doesn't know if this is a date or not. She playfully takes him by the hands, leads him to the library doors and asks him to close his eyes. Luigi hesitates a little, unsure, but ends up obeying so as not to disappoint her.

Daisy then opens the library and guides Luigi carefully inside. He almost trips, which makes her laugh, causing him, in turn, to relax a bit. And when she finally tells him to open his eyes, Luigi gasps and his jaw drops, his heart pounding in his chest, not only because that library is even a bit larger than Peach's, but also because, slowly, his mind understands and assimilates that Daisy had prepared this to surprise him.

And even though he’s fascinated by all the books before him, he ends up, without realizing it, looking at Daisy, with a blushing smile on his flushed face and his hands over his heart, while she explains to him that all those volumes belonged to his ancestors and that he has her permission to come whenever he wants to get them. "They're yours!" she says at last, turning to him, and Luigi's heart grows larger at the offer, causing a tear to escape his eyes as the princess, full of tenderness, smiles at him.

Over the next few days, Luigi goes to the library, encouraged by Daisy, who insists again and again that he come to Sarasaland. Her library has a huge ladder to reach the highest shelves, and Daisy uses it without a second thought to glide across the room, to the terrified gaze of Luigi, who dares not even climb the first rung.

As soon as she notices this, Daisy gets down, walks over to Luigi and takes him by the hand to guide him to the ladder. He almost cringes when she places his hand on the wood and freezes when Daisy encourages him to climb up. "It's completely safe!" she assures him. "And, besides, I'll be right here. You can hold my hand as you climb up. I promise I won't slide you down too fast the first time!"

Very slowly and clinging to Daisy's hand, Luigi climbs up the steps. She doesn't let go and keeps repeating phrases to encourage him, which makes Luigi feel almost as safe as when he is with Mario, though in a different way. Once he reaches the top of the first shelf, however, Luigi is unable to climb any higher, so Daisy doesn't pressure him any further. She gently grasps the lower end of the ladder and, after warning him, moves it a little, very slowly as she promised, to make him feel secure.

The next day, however, Daisy goes up right after Luigi and, leaning into the next bookshelf, pushes as hard as she can to propel the ladder to the opposite side at breakneck speed. Her laughter mingles with Luigi’s screams, but however, once they stop, he discovers that, despite his initial panic, he’s had fun with what Daisy has just done.

This then becomes a regular occurrence between them, until it gets to the point where Luigi feels comfortable and confident enough to climb the ladder by himself and propel himself across the library in true “Beauty and the Beast” style.

In the kingdom of Sarasaland there’s a tradition to honor books, as they’re not only a source of entertainment, but also the sacred objects that preserve their history. Daisy has grown up with these values and does not hesitate to tell Luigi about this tradition soon after they start dating.

On Book Day, it is customary for the man to give the woman a rose and the woman to give the man a book. This originated many centuries ago, before everything related to gender and relationships evolved, so nowadays, simply put, the members of a romantic relationship give each other both a book and a rose.

Luigi shows up in Sarasaland on the appointed date very nervously, dressed in a smart green suit, his favorite color, and carrying a wrapped book for Daisy, as well as a purple rose, very rare and hard to come by, which he has grown himself in his garden with Peach's help. Daisy greets him in a lovely purple dress, with a vaporous skirt, matching elbow-length gloves and her delicate shoulders bare. She holds out her gift to him almost before he reaches the castle gates and can recover from the amazement of seeing her so dazzling and beautiful.

He’s delighted when, upon opening it, he discovers that it is one of those special editions he’s been looking for for so long. Only Mario knew he wanted it, so he understands, without needing Daisy to tell him, that his brother has given his girlfriend a hand to surprise him. And that makes his heart fill with love and his eyes with tears, and the book even more precious to him.

Daisy excitedly opens her present and, to Luigi's surprise, squeals when she discovers that he’s gifted her a fantasy adventure novel that caught her eye when he first took her to his favorite Brooklyn bookstore. Daisy drags him into the library, invites him to sit down with some drinks (tea for him, a smoothie for her), and asks him to please start reading.

And so they spend their first Book Day together: settled on Daisy's fluffy library couch, she sat on his lap, the skirt of her purple dress spread over his legs, almost hiding them, and her arms around his neck, depositing light kisses here and there as he struggles to read aloud the book he’s just given her. This was the first time they gave each other a book, but of course it would not be the last, as reading together, visiting the Brooklyn bookstore and Sarasaland and Mushroom Kingdom libraries, and continuing to celebrate Book Day would soon become habit for them.

Daisy often stares at Luigi as he reads, amused by his reactions and the faces he makes, and, when their relationship is more established, she has no qualms about peeping over his shoulder. And Luigi, far from getting angry, what he did the first time and has continued to do ever since is to read aloud, so that she also finds herself immersed in the story without realizing it. (This may sound familiar!)

But what Luigi enjoys the most is that Daisy, whenever the characters in the book share some intimate gesture, instantly replicates it with him. If they hold hands, Daisy immediately reaches for Luigi's hand. If there’s a hug, Daisy wraps her arms around Luigi and holds him tightly, which leaves him breathless, but also makes him laugh and fills his heart with tenderness.

And, of course, if there are kisses, Daisy won't hesitate to start showering Luigi with them. First on his hand, on the tips of his fingers and on his palm. Then on the forehead, with a delicacy that always melts Luigi. His cheeks color every time Daisy places her lips on them, but what drives him absolutely crazy is when she seeks his mouth. It's the only thing that makes him put down the book and postpone reading for another time. (Check out @bberetd's wonderful art for this!)

Often, before they fall asleep, Daisy cuddles up to Luigi in bed, wearing his green shirt, and buries her face in the crook of his neck. Luigi absentmindedly begins to fiddle with her hair, delighted to have her so close, and, with his other hand, reaches for his book to read aloud a few more pages before they fall asleep. It's part of their routine and they both love sharing stories that way.

Part 4: The gang

The visit to the bookstore and libraries has now become a regular occurrence for everyone. As soon as he started talking about books with Peach and she showed him her library, Luigi immediately invited her to come with him and Mario the next time they went to their regular Brooklyn bookstore, and she gladly accepted.

On that first visit by the princess, Peach was as thrilled as Luigi and the two of them went back and forth in the bookstore, she eagerly looking at everything, he endlessly talking about the store and the many books he’s bought there. Soon they found themselves going often to acquire new books, not without first spending a good while in the place accumulating stories in their arms to, again, decide in the end.

Again Luigi was looking for Mario, who, unconsciously, had been staring at them with an amused smile and his eyes full of affection. Blushing, Mario would hurry to come to his side to help him, and Luigi, even though he’d caught him gazing at the princess in rapt attention, wouldn’t comment anything so as not to make him uncomfortable or put any pressure on him.

Many times, however, Peach would intervene and take two of the books Luigi had chosen. That's how she also started giving him books as presents, and Luigi couldn't be more grateful that his beloved friend pampers him that way. Her gesture makes her even more attractive and sweet in the eyes of Mario, who melts at seeing her displaying such adoration towards his beloved little brother.

Daisy, always eager to learn more about the place where her dearest hero in green grew up, also joins in, but, to her surprise, she finds herself next to Mario, fondly watching Peach and Luigi, especially the latter. They, however, are so excited talking about books that they never notice the goofy smiles with which Daisy and Mario look at them, delighted to see their two favorite people indulging in their greatest passion.

Despite this, both Mario and Daisy make sure to pay attention to the books that Luigi and Peach point out with the intention of acquiring them in the future, and then make plans with each other to decide which ones to give them on future birthdays, Christmases and, of course, regular days. Any time is a good time to surprise their favorite people with a new literary gift.

Sometimes, on their dates, Luigi and Daisy also go to the bookstore, and she, as always, listens to him talk very attentively. When it comes to advising him on which book to acquire, however, she’s much more practical: she thinks Luigi should pick the book he wants to read the most… or the one with the most romance in it.

And Luigi blushes violently because he perfectly understands the implications of such a suggestion.

Literary events also end up being a regular thing they all do together. Luigi, thanks to Mario, already manages to control his nerves and chat a bit with the authors when they sign his books. Peach, of course, is all sweetness and always tells them how much their stories have made her feel and dream. Mario just smiles and listens, delighted to be able to accompany them and to see them enjoying themselves so much, right up their alley. He always takes pictures of them with the authors, both together and separately, something he already did when it was just him and Luigi.

Daisy, on the other hand, is so spontaneous and genuine that she doesn't hold back when it comes to treating the writers with too much familiarity, which only embarrasses the others, especially Luigi. If it's the author of a romance book, Daisy doesn't hesitate to cheerfully tell them how much she and her boyfriend enjoyed the sensual and intimate scenes, or that she lost count of how many times she kissed her sweetie during the reading because of the sheer number of times the characters kissed.

In those moments, Luigi can only think of crawling under a rock. He has to resort to all the training with Mario to manage to keep his composure and not faint again or run away to hide so no one sees him turning red as a tomato.

However, then Daisy intertwines her arm with his and kisses him on the cheek, and he feels that his blush, this time, is due to being close to her and to her tokens of affection. After all, Luigi adores everything about his princess, all her sides and her personality, and besides, to other authors, fortunately, Daisy tells them how much fun she and her boyfriend had with their novel, and Luigi can only adore her.

At these events, both Mario and Daisy go out of their way to get lots of bookmarks and merch for Luigi and Peach, as they know they both love to collect stuff related to their favorite books. And also, again, they take mental notes of all the books they can buy as future presents for them.

From time to time, Toad and Peasley also join in on their visits to the bookstore, libraries or events. Toad is a big fan of fantasy and adventure comics, as they nurture his enthusiastic and adventurous spirit, and Peasley loves to talk endlessly with his favorite authors about the various subjects they cover in their books, thus unconsciously displaying, once again, his impeccable eloquence.

I really hope you liked this! I had a blast writing all of this and imagining my favorite characters in the many situations I've experienced myself as a bookworm, as well as adding others I came up with 🥰

Plase feel free to add your comments and feedback, and also headcanons if you have a few of your own! And if by any chance this inspires you to create your own stuff, I'd be more than honored 😭 All I ask is to please give credit! 🙏💖

Before I leave, please remember to check @itsavee4117's blog today! You won't regret it 🤩📚✨

#Luigi the Bookworm #luigi #luigi my beloved #super mario bros #super mario headcanons #luigi headcanons #mario and luigi #mario #peach #daisy #peasley #toad #polterpup #princess peach #princess daisy #prince peasley #luaisy #luisley #super mario #my writing #silenzahra

[onlygodknowsimgood]

When I was young, I never really understood my parents insistence to only use olive oil imported from Palestine. It took a long time and a great distance in a process that was neither cheap nor convenient. The oil came in old beat-up containers that did not look appealing to me at all. In my head, if they wanted to support distant family back home, they could just send them money and save us and them a big hassle. We could just use the nice looking olive oil containers from the nearby store. Yet, this was never an option in our household. The only olive oil we used at home was from Palestine.

‎As I grew up and started a student part-time job, I worked with olive oil a little. I knew all about olive oil imported from Spain, Italy, and other countries. I knew which ones were better and more expensive. I also learned to tell, based on the pungent taste, which ones were extra virgin. I was tempted to use my employee discount to bring home one of the fancy bottles and use at our kitchen. I could not get myself to do it, and I did not exactly know why. I felt like it would be disrespectful to my parents even if it didn’t make sense to me. It did not feel right. It was not an option.

‎After living in Palestine for a year during the olive picking season, something changed. The olive picking season in Palestine is holy.

‎Palestinians relate to the weather based on how it would benefit or harm the olives. There is well-known unspoken rule about treating olive trees with respect. There is a day off from work just to pick olives. On public transportation, it is not unusual to hear someone on the phone telling their friend to stop by for their share of this year’s olive oil stored in what used to be a Coca-Cola or a liquor bottle. A driver will stop in the middle of the way to give his brother- in- law a jar of olives that are so close to one another that they start to crush showing their insides.

‎In Nablus, the owner of the Nabulsi soap factory takes pride in how picky he is about getting his olive oil. He insists on filling a cup to let me smell how authentic it is and smirks as he sees my diasporic facial expressions transform in appreciation of its strong smell running through all of my brain cells.

‎I started noticing how olive oil is an essential part of so many dishes. “Palestinians drink more olive oil than water” I would jokingly say and they would laugh in agreement. Olive oil is truly an everyday ritual.

‎They fantasize about its color when it’s fresh and remind me that it starts to change as it reacts with oxygen over time. They dip their bread into olive oil, just like that and without any additions, and enjoy it more than the sweetest of all foods. I can guarantee that every lunch invitation (عزومة) I received during the olive-picking season was a chance for my hosts to share their olive oil using Msakhan (a traditional Palestinian dish).

‎I now have a deeper understanding of the psychology behind the burning of olive trees by Israeli soldiers and why farmers moan at the scene as if they lost a loved one.

‎Wherever you are, if it’s accessible to you, make sure your olive oil is Palestinian. Your ancestors would want that.

- Dima Seelawi

#palestine #olive trees #olive oil #فلسطين

[repulsiveliquidation]

Time Consuming

Bottom! Alexia Putellas x Switch! Leah Williamson x Top! Reader

warnings: nothing, i think. it's smut. have fun.

word count : 3.7k, enjoy.

The grocery store was mad around Christmas time, people were swarming the shelves and grabbing whatever they could. You were in the baking section, grabbing bags of fruit for your family fruitcake recipe that you had planned to make that night. You were big on Christmas traditions; since you, Ale and Leah were heading back to England for Christmas you wanted to make the cake which was your father’s favorite. Leah had flown over just before the break, insisting that Christmas Eve was at her parents’ house, you couldn’t show up empty handed, especially when Amanda had specifically requested your fruitcake. New Years was going to be in Spain with Ale’s family, again, you couldn’t show up empty handed. Everyone loved your grandmothers recipe, one that she passed only to you before she retired from making it. You cherished it deeply, locking it away for safe keeping the rest of the year.

Grabbing a pack of pitted cherries, your phone rang. Smiling at the caller ID, you picked up.

“Hello Leah.”

“Baby! What time will you be home?”

“I figure a couple hours still. Why?”

“No reason, Ale was just wondering. Okay, we’ll stop bothering you. Love you, bye!” Click.

Your eyes narrowed as you put the phone back into your pocket. She was overly enthusiastic about you being a couple hours still, normally she whined and complained while urging you to hurry. Wanting to enjoy shopping for once, you ignored it and went back to searching for those candied gingers that you can never find every year.

//

“She’ll be a few hours at least, Ale.” Leah says, walking back into the kitchen of yours and Ale’s shared apartment. The three of you made it back and forth between Barcelona and London, Leah often making the two-hour flight to Barcelona where you and Ale played since she was still out with her ACL.

“Mm, that’s good. She won’t catch us then.”

“Are you sure about this, Ale? You know she said we can’t do it without her.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Come on, it’s been days since Y/N and I last fucked,” Alexia pouts, knowing her rare puppy eyes worked best on Leah.

“Please Leah, you haven’t fucked me in a month and I miss your cock,” Alexia whined, hand reaching out for the natural blonde. Leah sauntered over, clearly already affected by the Catalan’s words. She takes Ale’s hand, pulling her away from the kitchen island. Alexia towered over her a little but she maintained her hard gaze.

“Strip, baby,” she instructed, smirking as Alexia immediately obeyed. Leah closed her eyes and reveled in the power, power that you regularly held and controlled with an iron fist. You rarely allowed her to have even an ounce of control, even more so when you met each other after being separated for weeks at a time. By then, all she wanted was her girlfriends to pull her apart and make her boneless. Alexia had been teasing her the whole day, knowing that you had errands to run and were likely going to be out the whole day; she knew what shopping around Christmas was like in Spain.

Leah opened her eyes to see Alexia already on her knees with her hands neatly in her lap. She cheekily smiled up at Leah, hazel eyes glossed over with lust. Leah leaned down and kissed her, cupping her cheek tenderly.

“Wait here, do not move.”

“Okay.”

Leah pecked her nose before walking into the bedroom. She pulled open your sex drawer, pulling out the one harness she had over here. She pulled her own clothes off and slid the harness on, grabbing the little bottle of lube before heading back out to the kitchen to find Alexia had not moved even a hair. Leah smiled, slowly walking over to her. Alexia licked her lips, looking up at the England captain. Leah tucked a stray lock of hair away from Alexia’s face, leaning in just enough that Alexia could barely touch her.

“What do you want, slut?”

Alexia whined. “Want your cock, Leah,” she whispered, words barely audible.

“I didn’t hear you, princess.”

“I want your cock Leah, please,” she whined again, bottom lip between her teeth.

“Good girl. Are you going to be a good girl, Ale? A good girl like you are for Y/N?”

Alexia nods, eyes locked onto Leah’s yet she doesn’t see the smack coming. Smack.

“Words, whore.”  

“Yes Leah. I’ll be good.”

“Mm, my perfect girl. Now, suck.”

Leah shoves her cock into Alexia’s mouth, thrusting slowly. Alexia’s hands gripped Leah’s thighs to steady herself, bobbing her head enthusiastically. Leah threw her head back, hips thrusting forward into the Catalan’s mouth. Alexia gagged loudly, Leah looking down at her immediately as she pulled away. Her hands cupped Alexia’s face as hers held worry, Alexia seemed more turned on by the fact. She bit her lip and surged forwards, taking in her cock again to suck on harder. Saliva pooled at the base, turning the appendage into a sopping mess. Leah was back to thrusting into her filthy mouth, panting as she felt her pussy throbbing at the unusual sight of the Barça captain on her knees willingly sucking on her cock. Boy the power trip that she was having now was other worldly, a large grin plastered on her face.

Leah wrenched Alexia off her cock and kissed her, lips smacking against one another lewdly. Alexia nearly faints when Leah grabs her thighs and manhandles her into her arms. Leah saunters over to the couch easily, sitting herself down with Alexia in her lap. Her rough hands caress the Spaniards thighs, cock poking Alexia’s inner thighs.

“Wanna watch you ride my cock, Capitana.”

Alexia grinned, grabbing Leah’s face and kissing her. She ground down on Leah’s thigh for a bit, face pulled away from Leah’s lips and tucked into her neck. She took a deep breath, body sinking into Leah’s hold more as she inhaled her lovers scent.

“I didn’t say you could do that, Alexia.”

Her head shot up, a look of shame on her face. Leah called her Ale, not Alexia. Alexia was for when she was in trouble. Alexia didn’t want to be in trouble. She wanted sexual bliss.

“I said ride my cock, not my thigh like a cheap slut.”   

Alexia’s eyes immediately welled with tears, clearly affected by Leah’s words. She mumbled an apology, hands grasping Leah’s shoulders as she tried to get herself to ride her cock. Leah tutted, grabbing Alexia’s hips.

“Here, I’ll hold it for you. Easy now.”

Alexia slowly slid down on Leah’s cock, letting out a soft sigh as it filled her aching pussy. She felt the stretch, biting her bottom lip as she slowly took in more and more of Leah’s cock. She bottomed out, looking up at Leah for praise. Leah spanked her ass hard, hands grabbing the meaty flesh of her behind. Alexia yelped, hips pushing forward in an unintentional grind. The tip grazed her sweet spot nicely, sending shockwaves through her body. She gasped, immediately tucking her blushing face in Leah’s neck as she began to ride her cock.

She had a tight grip on the back of the couch, using it as leverage to bounce on Leah’s cock. Leah watched with amusement, hands caressing Alexia’s muscular thighs. She slapped her ass hard again, taking her by surprise. Alexia quietly began to sob in pleasure, tears wetting the junction of Leah’s neck.

Leah’s hands pulled Alexia’s face from her neck, cupping her wet cheeks as Alexia kept riding her cock.

“Why the tears, baby girl?” Leah asked, genuinely concerned.

“Just…feels so good but tired,” Alexia slurred, bouncing much slower now. She whined and huffed, getting tired.

“Do you want me to fuck you good and proper then?” Leah cooed softly, hands caressing over Alexia’s ass and hips. It sent a shiver up her spine.

“Yes please Leah…”

Leah immediately maneuvers Alexia onto the other side of the couch, limbs sprawled all over the L-shaped futon. Her cock never slips out an inch, buried deep in Alexia’s pussy. Leah wiped Alexia’s tears away, grinning down at her girlfriend.

“Ready?”

“¡Sí!” Alexia exclaims enthusiastically, making Leah chuckle before pressing her legs back open. She begins to thrust, hips pounding roughly into Alexia’s squelching core. Alexia screams, back arching off the couch in pleasure. She grabs a pillow to hold onto, knuckles going white with how hard she was holding on. Leah’s ego grew exponentially, a cocky grin spreading on her face as she wrecked Alexia.

“P-Please, I’m so close!” Alexia cried out, eyes locking onto Leah’s hooded blue ones. Leah’s fingers found themselves between Alexia’s legs, rubbing rough circles over her clit. Alexia let out a choked cry, legs flailing about as she neared her peak. Leah was close too, her breaths becoming more and more labored with each thrust. She chanted Alexia’s name, lips praising her and showering her with compliments. It barreled both of them closer to their orgasms, their cries for each other’s names becoming more and more high-pitched and whiny. Leah’s hips stuttered and Alexia couldn’t keep up on her own. The coils in their stomachs were just about to unravel when a booming voice came from the kitchen, making them freeze and stare at each other with fear.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You walked into the apartment, calling out for the girls when you heard loud moaning. You scoffed and trudged into the kitchen, putting the bags of groceries on the island. You found the source of the slutty moans, the sight of both your girlfriends fucking on the futon you just had cleaned pissed you off. You had only been gone for about 3 hours, hoping to come home to two girlfriends who wanted to help you bake and relax. Instead you’re met with the two of them fucking like rabbits.

“Come here, the both of you. Now.”  

They scramble towards you, standing in front of you in shame. They keep their heads hung low, hands behind their backs. Boy were they in trouble now.

“Whose idea was it?” you ask in a calm tone, one that sent shivers down both of their spines. They were REALLY in trouble this time.

“Mine,” Alexia easily confessed, looking at you with teary eyes. A tear fell from Leah’s eyes onto her hands.

“Look at me, Leah. Is she telling me the truth?”

“Yes, she asked me to call you and see how long you were going to be and made me f-fuck her!”

“She didn’t make you, doll. She asked, you said yes. What did I tell you this morning, Alexia?”

“That we could have fun after we made the cakes, and that you promised to remember.”

“That’s right, princesa. I said I would, you know I never break my promises, especially to the two of you. Why did you have Leah fuck you, hm? Do I not please you enough for you to wait a few more hours? What happened to my obedient Ale?”

“She’s s-still here! I jus-just wanted some attention from Leah, I missed her…” La Reina confesses, tears now staining her flushed cheeks. You take her hand and one of Leah’s, rubbing the backs with your thumbs.

“I know you missed her darling, I do too. That’s why I asked you to wait, I had a whole night of fun planned and you’ve gone and ruined it.”

“No! No, we can still do it!” Leah pleads, you shake your head slowly.

“Mm, I don’t think so baby. Unless, we turn it into a night of discipline because clearly I’ve been slacking. My girls aren’t normally this disobedient. I know they’re better than that.” You turn and leave them, walking into the bedroom. They follow behind you quietly, faces hot with shame. You stand at the foot of the bed and gesture for them to get on, taking your clothes off slowly. They both kneel in the middle of the California King bed.

“Leah, get my favorite strap would you darling?”

She leans over and opens the drawer she got hers from and pulled out your favorite strap, handing it to you. You pull it on and watch them watch you, grinning a little when the both of them rub their thighs together.

“Come here, Alexia. On your stomach, good girl.” You instruct, stepping closer to the bed as she does as you say. You pull her head back, cock slipping between her lips. You thrust just how Leah did earlier, watching the Spain captain’s lips wraps themselves tight around your cock. Leah watches closely, licking her lips and rubbing her thighs together. She still had her strap on, hands itching to touch either one of you. You look up and notice her staring, reaching down and pulling Alexia’s hips up and pushing her back into a deep arch. You give her ass a few hard smacks, her lips working diligently on your cock.

“Eat her out, Leah. Did you do that earlier, you know its Alexia’s favorite. Lately, she likes having her behind played with too. Gets her soaking wet, you know? It is utterly obscene.” You tell her, voice as stable as ever, talking about Alexia like she isn’t right there.

Leah slowly makes her way behind Alexia, pulling her cheeks apart to see Alexia practically doused in arousal. She runs a finger through her folds, licking the tip of her finger to taste her. Leah moans, pushing her finger into Alexia slowly as she presses her tongue flat on her clit. She eats her out slowly, tongue lapping at her clit slowly as her finger barely grazed her sweet spot. Alexia moaned around your cock, your hands holding her hair back in a loose ponytail as you thrusted in gently.

You pulled away, pulling Alexia up and kissing her slowly. Leah kept slurping noisily at Alexia, nose nudging her backdoor occasionally. Alexia’s head was already spinning, brain unable to choose who to focus on. You ran your fingers through her hair, cooing at her softly as Leah sped up her touches.

“Does Leah feel good, bebita?”

"Sí..."

“Did Leah feel good fucking you just now? I know it’s been a while since she did, no?”

Alexia nods, pressing her forehead to your chest as Leah suddenly pushed a finger into Alexia’s ass. She cries out for Leah, holding onto your arms as Leah begins to alternate her fingers inside Alexia. Its only one finger and she’s already overwhelmed, breath faltering as she tries to hold on.

“Stop Leah,” you tell her, pulling Alexia into your arms. She goes willingly, letting you move her to the other side of the bed. She bends over easily, not fighting you at all. You rub her slightly red ass, kissing her lower back.

“I want you to fuck her Leah.”

“What about you? Don’t you want her?”

“Oh, no. She missed you so you’re going to fuck her. I’m fucking you.”

Leah’s eyes widen a little in shock, you tilt your head to the side and furrow your eyebrows at her slightly, challenging her to argue. She doesn’t, obediently settling behind Alexia who was beginning to whine at the lack of attention. You moved behind Leah, caressing her slightly clammy skin as she held her strap in her hand. You kissed her shoulder softly, hand resting on top of hers as you helped her feed her cock into Alexia. Alexia bit her lip and looked at you two, eyes rolling into her head as she realized you were helping Leah.

“Forgotten how to fuck her so soon? If I remember correctly, you were absolutely hammering into her earlier.”

Leah whimpers as she remembers, hips pressing forward and sliding her cock into her awaiting lover. Alexia gasps loudly, gripping the sheets below her. Leah shifts just a little closer, hands sliding over Alexia’s hips as she grasps them tight.

“Fuck her darling, show her a good time,” you whisper into her ear, your own hands sliding over her arms with a kiss to her neck. Leah thrusted, pulling Alexia back onto her cock at the same time. Alexia moaned loud, head hanging low as pleasure surged through her. You focused your attention on Leah, calloused hands rubbing and touching all the skin you could. You grasped at her breasts from behind, fondling them teasingly. Fingers dragged themselves over her perked nipples, fingertips featherlight as they stroked her flexing abs. Leah was panting, Alexia’s head was pressed into the mattress. It was a sight to behold.

“How does she feel, baby doll?” you ask Leah, tilting her head to the side to look back at you. She’s got frustrated tears welling in her eyes, bottom lip quivering just a little. She didn’t hear you the first time, taking deep breaths as your touches barreled her towards her achingly slow-burning orgasm.

“I’ll ask you one more time, how does she feel baby?”

“S-So good, so good Y/N. She’s still so tight, I-I can see it…”

You peer over her shoulder and sure enough, Alexia’s got a tight grip on the dildo fucking into her. Alexia is about to combust, the two of you talking as if she was merely an object made her head spin. She was aching to cum, Leah simply fucking into her wasn’t nearly enough to have her cum. She knew it was on purpose, tears of frustration of her own wetting the sheets below her.

“She is tight, princess. Such a good girl she is, isn’t she? You’re taking her cock so well, aren’t you Alexia?”

"¡Sí, sí, estoy bien...!"

You give her hip a hard rap before reaching out to Alexia. Your hand appears in front of her, as if you were asking for something.

“Spit.”

She looks up at you with glossy eyes, gathering her spit and depositing it in your palm. You move back behind Leah, who had stopped thrusting to watch you, spreading Alexia’s spit all over cock. You gripped it tight and pressed it against Leah’s entrance. She was wet was an understatement. You chuckled, dragging the tip of your cock along her folds.

“Mm, didn’t really need your spit Alexia; you won’t believe how wet Leah is.”

You push in, grasping Leah’s still hips. You kiss the shell of her ear, rubbing your thumb over her hipbone affectionately.

“Need you to keep thrusting baby, it’s the only way you’re gonna get this cock.”

Leah groans, grasping Alexia’s hips tightly as she fucks into her hard. Alexia moans, crying out for you.

“Please bebé, y-you’re so deep!”

“She is, Ale? She fucking you nice and deep hermosa? You’ve missed her cock, haven’t you?”

“Yes, yes! FUCK!” She yells, back arching deeper just as you grasp Leah’s hips and fuck into her. It causes Alexia to jolt forward, moans cutting off from the force of your thrusts. You grin, grabbing Leah’s harness for something more stable to hold onto, fucking into her with a brutal pace. It tightened the harness around Leah’s core, grazing her clit at the same time as your thrusts. The power of your thrusts channeled into hers, pounding into Alexia with double the force now. Alexia felt the wind get knocked out of her, Leah holding her up as she essentially gets fucked by two people.

She reaches back and digs her nails into Leah’s thighs, your hands leave Leah’s hips and pull-on Alexia’s arms, pulling her slightly back into Leah your hips sped up. The three of you groan simultaneously, pleasure increasing tenfold as your thrusts and Leah’s weak ones tumble the three of you towards your orgasms.

“Hold her up, Lee. Make her watch herself in that mirror as we fucking ruin her.”

Leah pulls Alexia’s boneless body up, tucking her arms behind her as you tilt her head to look at the mirror. The full-length mirror reflects the three of you obscenely, you pull a satisfied grin; Alexia looked completely fucked out and Leah looked like she was on the verge of tears again. It made your heart clench, thrusting faster to get your girls to their peak.   

“Close, Ale? Lee?” you ask mockingly, knowing they were about to crash any second. They both just nod hard, whining high in their throats.

“Do you wanna cum, Ale?”

“Please!”

“Apologize to Leah.”

She takes a deep breath, “Sorry Leah! Fuh-for making you fuck me!”

“Do you want to cum, Lee?”

“Yes! Yes…” your hips pick up the pace, Alexia cries.

“Apologize to me.”

“I’m sorry I fucked her without asking, I’m sorry!”

“Good girls, there’s my obedient girls. Cum for me baby, my perfect girls.” You coo, delivering one last thrust before the three of you cum together. There was a jumble of voices, Alexia’s the loudest as she came the hardest. Leah held her through it, your hips slowing down into a slow grind as you helped Leah and yourself through your own highs.

You pulled out slowly, gently peeling Leah off Alexia. Alexia whined, the neediest of all after sex. You kissed her forehead and undid yours and Leah’s straps.

“I know baby, let me run a bath first. I’ll be right back, cariño.”

You kissed Leah’s forehead too, walking into the bathroom and running a hot bath. You carried them in one by one, gently settling them into the hot bubbly water. Alexia immediately sought for Leah, settling in her arms before you climbed in behind Leah and held both your girls. You kissed Leah’s ear softly, hands massaging Alexia’s thighs.

“Lesson learnt girls?”

“Yes,” “Sí.”

“I love you, glad to have both my girls back where they belong.” Alexia laces her fingers with yours, Leah nuzzles back into you. You sigh, there truly was nothing like having the two of them in your arms.

//

“I guess the cakes will have to wait till tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I’m all clean, I don’t want flour everywhere. Fuck, sex is so time consuming. Worth it though.”

“And soul consuming, I think I went to heaven earlier. I saw the light you know. I think we need to fuck like that all the time.”  

#leah williamson x alexia putellas x reader #leah williamson #alexia putellas #alexia putellas smut #leah williamson smut #woso soccer #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso smut #woso #leahwilliamson x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #leah williamson imagine

[hummusxx]

I Don't care -JB5

parings: Jude Bellingham x fem!reader

summary: It's New Year's Eve in Madrid. Everyone is out having parties and celebrating the new year while u is stuck home sick with the flu. Your boyfriend tries to cheer you up.

Of course. The only handful of days Jude and I can go out together is spent inside on the couch, watching some stupid show. I just had to go and get the flu. My aunt had forgotten to inform everyone that her demon of a child had every sickness known to mankind at Christmas dinner

" Babe get the frown off your face- Everything is alright " Jude tried to reassure me as he was walking towards the couch with a steaming hot bowl of soup.

I look at him in disbelief.

"No Jude. We were supposed to have fun tonight and go out. Not say home and watch this stupid show in clothes that smell like we haven't showered in years." With a frown on my face, I bury my head into the couch cushion.

I start to hear loud bangs and realize that fireworks are going off. I look outside the window with a somber look.

"Um excuse you but The Sopranos is one of the best shows in the world" Jude says offensively as he sets down the bowl.

"-and i wouldn't want it any other way. Just Me and My girl, alone, in pjs, watching a dumb show as u say." he sits next to me, laying his arm around my shoulder and pulling the blanket over him.

"Stop you're going to get sick Jude," I say, as I try and push him to the other side of the couch.

Jude doesn't move any inch. After my pity attempt to move him, he reaches and grabs the bowl on the table and starts to feed me like a mother would her babe.

"Judie I'm not a baby" I whine.

Well, you're my baby" he says, laughing as he watches me frown.

He suddenly puts down the bowl and makes his way into the bedroom.

"Jude where are u going."

"Just a sec" he responds. His voice was muffled by the loud fireworks outside.

He comes back in with a hat and party blower that says,'Happy New Year.'

"Jude what- How did u get this stuff." I say as u sit up from the couch.

Jude moves over to me and puts the hat on my head and the blower in my hand. He walks over to the kitchen and open the fridge.

He grabs 12 grapes for both of us and sits down on the couch.

"I grabbed all this while I was out getting your soup" I stare at him in disbelief. My eyes start to water.

" I know how bad u wanted to go out tonight, so I brought the out to you," he says while turning on the broadcast of the clock in Puerta del sol.

I look at the time, it's 11:57. It's almost the new year.

" Jude"

"mhm" he turns to look at me.

"I love you so much and I'm so grateful for everything that has happened to us this year."

He looks at me and grabs my hands

"Baby you have helped me so much this year and i am forever grateful for u" He Kisses my forehead right at the clock Strucks 12.

The chimes start and we eat the grapes.

We both finish them all in the chimes.

"Happy New year baby' he says as he grabs my head..

"Jude you're going to get sick" i say leaning in

"I don't care."

Hummusxx Corner

heyyy everyonee i hope this was good. I haven't wrote in ages it feels like so im happy to have a new piece out. In Spain, they have a tradition of eating 12 grapes with the 12 chimes of the clock in puerta del sol and if u finish all 12 you will have a good new year full of luck. So since Jude has moved to spain decided to include it in because it just felt right. If u liked it plssss repost or comment. Love yall and byeee

I wanted this to be posted on new years eve BUT I literally can’t wait so here it is early 😉

#hummusxx' corner #jude bellingham #jb5 #new year #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fluff #jude x reader #football blurb #football #Madrid #sickfic #football fluff #football fanfic

[brother-emperors]

When you talk about Philippino history and then Roman history, as a Venezuelan it's been making me think about our history and like, I've always thought there's a lot of similarity there but now it's like...its so similar. Your house is haunted too! I always think about how we won wars against the colonizers but their ghosts are still there, and they still sit at the dinner table with us every night. Your work is so cool, I feel like I can extend that train of thought further through time. I've never been interested in Rome but now I kinda am!

Venezuela 🤝the Philippines: being haunted houses (colonized by Spain)

also that is so SO real, the ghosts really are with us!! THEY ARE AT!!! OUR DINNER TABLES!!!!! ngl, once you start noticing it, it's impossible to NOT notice how they've crawled into the spaces and just. stayed.

ancient Rome is so weird for it too, because if you asked me about it, I wouldn't immediately put ancient Rome down for haunting the Philippines, except for the fact that like Catholicism, it's fucking everywhere. it's gotten in the cracks and spaces between the walls. On the stage of theater, Nadres' Hanggang dito na lamang at maraming salamat: the main character is named after Julius Caesar

Closet Queeries, J. Niel C. Garcia

and so many people are named after figures from ancient Rome (I know enough Mark Anthonys I've run out of differentiating nicknames for everyone) that it rivals Catholic saints for naming conventions. neo classical architecture had it's moment in the sun in Manila, our ilustrados brought some of it back when they returned from Spain to call for reform, and then independence, and I am struggling to hold back a plague-infection comparison about that. like, something else crept in with Spain, and like Spain's ghosts, it Did Not Leave.

but on the other hand! there's a long, centuries long, tradition of using the events of the Fall of the Republic to discourse, discuss, to vent or call for action, current events. it provides a interlocutor when something hurts too much to say directly, it provides a stage to explore a tragedy that echoes in our own histories, it gives a script to voice an ideal that a government might otherwise put down. how many centuries have we used Brutus (and Cassius) to rail against Tyranny, and how many centuries with equal enthusiasm have people used Julius Caesar as a martyr to justify the rights of Kings and Empires? these things are equally as important (in a different way) from the ancient events that actually transpired. (this specific topic, of Brutus & the Assassination of Caesar and it's literary revivals in history, are the focus of The Brutus Revival, Manfredi Piccolomini)

and the cores of these things conflict with each other, but in that friction, it's like there's an invitation to sit down and think for a minute. to look back at history and feel it's immediacy in the present.

ANYWAY I got carried away, but I am glad!! that my stuff could make Rome interesting!!! I hope that you find new doors of thoughts to explore!!!!!!!

#holding this ask in my heart forever thank u for sending this anon #ask tag #idk sometimes i draw goofy shit because its fun. and gay stuff because I Like Men ofc im going to explore things thru that lens #but also. i feel a little like im trying to look at this lurking ghost of imperialism without. addressing it directly #my love for spectacle and drama directly against knowing that the historical horror is not. that far removed. heugh. #so this meant a lot to me!! i feel seen in a good way. thank u again!

[vyorei]

I found a post about Palestine and olive trees about a week ago, this reminded me of it so I'm gonna post the text below.

This was posted on Facebook by Dima Seelawi on the 29th of October 2018, it just happened to find its way to my newsfeed:

"When I was young, I never really understood my parents insistence to only use olive oil imported from Palestine. It took a long time and a great distance in a process that was neither cheap nor convenient. The oil came in old beat-up containers that did not look appealing to me at all. In my head, if they wanted to support distant family back home, they could just send them money and save us and them a big hassle. We could just use the nice looking olive oil containers from the nearby store. Yet, this was never an option in our household. The only olive oil we used at home was from Palestine.

As I grew up and started a student part-time job, I worked with olive oil a little. I knew all about olive oil imported from Spain, Italy, and other countries. I knew which ones were better and more expensive. I also learned to tell, based on the pungent taste, which ones were extra virgin. I was tempted to use my employee discount to bring home one of the fancy bottles and use at our kitchen. I could not get myself to do it, and I did not exactly know why. I felt like it would be disrespectful to my parents even if it didn’t make sense to me. It did not feel right. It was not an option.

After living in Palestine for a year during the olive picking season, something changed. The olive picking season in Palestine is holy.

Palestinians relate to the weather based on how it would benefit or harm the olives. There is well-known unspoken rule about treating olive trees with respect. There is a day off from work just to pick olives. On public transportation, it is not unusual to hear someone on the phone telling their friend to stop by for their share of this year’s olive oil stored in what used to be a Coca-Cola or a liquor bottle. A driver will stop in the middle of the way to give his brother- in- law a jar of olives that are so close to one another that they start to crush showing their insides.

In Nablus, the owner of the Nabulsi soap factory takes pride in how picky he is about getting his olive oil. He insists on filling a cup to let me smell how authentic it is and smirks as he sees my diasporic facial expressions transform in appreciation of its strong smell running through all of my brain cells.

I started noticing how olive oil is an essential part of so many dishes. “Palestinians drink more olive oil than water” I would jokingly say and they would laugh in agreement. Olive oil is truly an everyday ritual.

They fantasize about its color when it’s fresh and remind me that it starts to change as it reacts with oxygen over time. They dip their bread into olive oil, just like that and without any additions, and enjoy it more than the sweetest of all foods. I can guarantee that every lunch invitation (عزومة) I received during the olive-picking season was a chance for my hosts to share their olive oil using Msakhan (a traditional Palestinian dish).

I now have a deeper understanding of the psychology behind the burning of olive trees by Israeli settlers and why farmers moan at the scene as if they lost a loved one.

Wherever you are, if it’s accessible to you, make sure your olive oil is Palestinian. Your ancestors would want that."

And this picture was attached:

Link to the article in the header image:

#free gaza #free palestine #gaza strip #irish solidarity with palestine #palestine #gaza #news on gaza #al jazeera #boycott israel #israel #Olive trees #Olive oil #Olive harvest #Dima Seelawi #Palestinian olive trees #Palestinian olive Groves #Palestinian culture #Samaher Abu Jameh #Abasan al-Kabira #Farming #important #Nablus #West Bank #west bank palestinians

[sapchat]

Ways to add simple little details to Prythian in your stories!

For the Autumn Court this one is basic and many people use it: Males gift their fiancées, wives, mates fox kits as a symbol of their love and good luck with the relationship. To make it sadder, Beron never did this for Lady A, so when Eris found out about this tradition he got his mom one!

For the Dawn Court: Like how the night court Illyrians put the women down, what if the Dawn Court was the opposite and the Peregryn females would put the males down. In the real world male birds are held to a high standard for breeding, I feel like Peregryn instincts would cause this and it just gives more to a story than the females constantly being the abused. Also they’re stomach/side sleepers. I talk more about this below with the night court just to not repeat myself.

Day Court is full of bastards. You can NOT convince me that it isn’t. Helion is laying the fucking pipe like he’s discovered oil. And the reason I feel this is because of @florencemtrash ‘s story “The Shadow and the Inkbird” (also it’s really good go read it if you haven’t) where the MFC is Helions bastard, and meets Lucien and instantly realizes that they’re halfsiblings. And I was like ya know the Day Court is probably like Game of Thrones Dorne. Dorne is know for their bastards almost every persons name in that city is ‘Sand’ because they’re all bastards basically. So I just KNOW that Helion probably has other kids than just Lucien. And everyone in that court is fucking.

Summer Court has mermaids. It’s basic, it’s simple and it’s true. There’s mermaids.

Night Court, listen we already now a lot about the Nigh Court but this pertains to Illyrian’s so I feel it’s different. They’re stomach/side sleepers. They are. You can’t tell me that two massive wing sticking out of your back would allow you to lay on your back. It can’t be comfortable. Like have you ever tried sleeping with like a ponytail/claw clip in? It ain’t nice. Now imagine it with two that sit right beside your shoulder blades and the clips are like 3ft long? Idk how long the base would be but like probably pretty fucking long to allow actual flight capabilities. Also when they sleep on their side they just have their wings straight out, now like laying on one and the other out. They’ve got big ass beds for a reason spread out. (Cassian fully takes up a bed like star fish style just on his stomach. Nesta is sick of it.)

Spring Court, during the Spring Equinox the High Lord chooses someone to dress up and hand out spring gifts to family’s (usually kids). When Tamlin became High Lord he appointed himself to do so. During this time Tamlin also gives many of the less fortunate families something they can later use for the Tithe.

Winter Court puts on a celebration for the children called Three Kings Day. Family’s with children are welcomed to the castle(? Do they have castles…?) and the bakers leave a cake outside the doors of the family, inside the cakes (this is a real thing from Puerto Rico/France/Spain too btw, the cake is called la galette des rois (Kings Cake)) are toys/coins. Whichever children find them get to wear a crown for the day and called Kings/Queens (Kallias started the tradition that all kids get to do this, he’s a softy).

#acotar #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #a court of frost and starlight #acofas #a court of wings and ruin #acotar x you #acotar x oc #acotar x y/n #acotar x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar tamlin #acotar feyre #tamlin acotar #acotar headcanons #helion x reader #kallias acotar #Helion acotar #Beron acotar #Tarquin acotar #thesan acotar #acotar writing #acotar fanart #acotar theory #acotar rhysand

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Lenore Vandernatch: the rogue, the gothic heroine and the courtly knight. A review of archetypes

Okay, after going over my notes, here we are again. In case you don't know what this is all about, here is the first of these posts where I'm doing a review of some of the archetypes that Annabel and Lenore seem to be taking notes on.

Just so this doesn't end up being another 3000 word post, let's get started.

The Rogue

In 1554, the first written version of "El Lazarillo de Tormes" was published, the foundational work of what would become known in Spain as the "picaresque novel": stories centered on the rogue, a poor rascal who uses trickery to ensure his survival.

At this stage of the game, we have rogues in a variety of flavors and colors. It would be difficult to make a comprehensive list, so let's talk about these characters in general.

The first thing to note is that rogues are, by definition, outsiders. In the traditional picaresque, the rogue is simply someone from the lower classes, but as this archetype has grown, it has become less about class and more about criminality.

Yes. Rogues are criminals: thieves like Robin Hood, swindlers like the Lazarillo...

Fraud, arson. You name it.

Getting back to the issue of the rogue as an outsider, they may have been one from the start, or they may have become one after attaining their criminal status. Regardless of the reason, these people operate outside of the law, the authorities generally give a shit, and, depending on your rogue flavor, may even actively fight against it.

One thing to note here: this goes a bit beyond Lenore's rebellious attitude. Like a good rogue, she derives enormous personal satisfaction from the thought of getting her way. The world has turned its back on the rogue, so the rogue will not hesitate to turn her back on the world.

In Lenore's case, this attitude of throwing all authority to the wind and actively ignoring any rules imposed on her is a mixture of personality and trauma. In the flashbacks, we see that Lenore has always had a certain disdain for protocol and formalities, but of course, after being locked up for at least a year because the rules of the society she lives in have decided to make her an outcast for her brother 's death, she no longer finds any reason to listen to what they have to say to her. The rules will never go beyond the feeling that she has agency over her life.

From this follows the methods of the rogues: opportunism is one of their hallmarks. Ingenuity, cunning, and creativity are common traits among these characters, something that is usually tied to their status as outsiders and criminals; they don't care about rules, so they think outside the box, either because they are highly intelligent or because they lack common sense.

Maybe both.

So, yes, when Annabel tells her dashing rogue, she's not wrong in the least. But there are more interesting things to look at here

The Gothic Heroine

When some theorists say that Gothic heroines are bland and uninteresting characters, it's...true. But there's a reason for that, so let me get that out of the way for a moment: the image of the maiden in this period is used as a symbol of purity, chastity, goodness, and her corruption, death, or disease works on both a literal and metaphorical level. It is like when you see grotesque religious images in horror movies, there is a powerful and disturbing charge in the idea of seeing something "pure" destroyed.

So the thing about gothic heroines is that, at worst, they are not characters who contribute to the story they are in, but tokens, quasi-sacred representations who are there to die, get sick, or fall victim to a villain who might sexually harass them. Yes, unpleasant.

But good gothic heroines (besides possibly having tuberculosis) are characters with arcs related to corruption, especially mental corruption. And this is where it gets interesting.

But we go from less to more. In her flashbacks, Lenore's physical appearance is almost exactly that of a gothic novel protagonist: pale, almost cadaverous, slender, languid in her movements (because, in this case, she's drugged a significant percentage of the time), and long hair.

Her background in this part of the story, like that of the best gothic heroines, is one of mental corruption: she is here, imprisoned, withering and losing her mind, giving in to despair. There are those who point out a rather strong resemblance between the scene where Lenore tears the flowered wallpaper from her room and the short story The Yellow Wallpaper by the writer Charlotte Perkins. And although this story is not gothic, it definitely retains the most important trope of the genre.

Another element in which we can find Lenore is in the Gothic ballad of the same name, written by Gottfried Bürger in 1773. This poem tells the story of Lenore, a girl condemned by narrative for blaspheming against heaven after the death of her beloved, who is later visited by the Grim Reaper himself to take her to him.

A heartbroken woman committing blasphemy in the name of a lost love? I wonder if that sounds familiar.

And if I had to point out one particular gothic heroine with whom Lenore shares important similarities, it would be Laura from Carmilla.

With the first, she shares two very important things: isolation and a penchant for women who can murder her, a complicated relationship with a gothic vampire.

Laura lives in complete isolation from the world, with the only company of maids and her father; within the first few chapters, we know that she can barely remember the last time she had the company of a woman her own age. Like Lenore in the flashbacks, Laura is something of a secret, hidden from the world (though for less horrific reasons).

And that isolation is broken by the arrival of an elegant, almost supernaturally beautiful upper-class lady who almost kicks in her door with a "Hi, I want to be friends. You'll like me."

Both Laura and Lenore are not afraid of the vampire, though they are not unaware of her strange behavior and will raise a puzzled eyebrow at her promises of affection, as well as her obvious tendency to insist on a fucked-up secret that they are in the middle of and can't share. Another important detail is that both characters have a certain difficulty in describing their feelings as romantic: both are very obviously obsessed with this mysterious lady who has come to interrupt their loneliness, but Laura never fails to refer to Carmilla as her "friend" (a behavior that the modern reader may interpret, with more than fair reason, as comphet), and Lenore is little more than that, at least until the mansion arch where the shingle falls on her.

Last but not least, just as Lenore is treated as "crazy," there are several events in Laura's life (such as her first encounter with Carmilla when she was a child) or that occur throughout the novel that are dismissed by those around her as her being a little touched in the head.

The courtly knight

Here it is necessary to make a distinction: knights are a far-reaching figure, but before and during the Middle Ages they mainly starred in two types of stories: the canta de gesta (which was intended to tell great deeds of inspiration for certain peoples, such as the Song of Mio Cid in Spain or the Song of the Nibelungs in Germany. This last one is the best Canto de gesta in history, I do not accept arguments) and the Novel of chivalry or courtly (focused on the individual story of the knight and introduces elements of the court).

What is the main difference between the knight of the canto de gesta and the knight of the court? Well... the latter is much more horny. And we are talking about Lenore, so you have until the end of this paragraph to imagine which of these knights we are talking about.

The first thing to keep in mind is that the Courtly Knight has a pretty strong moral compass: nobility, mercy, loyalty, and honor are values they firmly believe in; these characters are heroes, and that means that while they are not perfect, they represent ideals that are considered important in this time. And we're talking about vassalage, so you get it.

This is the first thing Lenore has in common with the knights of the court: her strong sense of morality. Yes, she's not afraid to play dirty like a rogue, but she's pretty clear about what things are important to her in that regard, and she's willing to uphold those ideals even in the context of Nevermore, which actively encourages its students to kill and betray each other.

However, the personal agendas of these knights have one important thing in common: the conflict between their own desires and their duty.

What are those desires? Well...

Good courtly knights usually have to choose between their love/sexual interests and where their personal loyalties lie, which, due to the era in which these stories take place, are usually their feudal lords or even kings.

We already established that Lenore doesn't give a shit about authority, but her personal loyalty is to her friends. And this is where it gets tricky for her: So far in the comic, Lenore has kept her relationship with Annabel a secret from her friends, and she has kept the fact that she wants to save her friends a secret from Annabel. A conflict that may eventually blow up in her face, and on the face of it, really befits a courtly knight (though if she were a real one, the Misfits might ask her to kill the Deans or something in exchange for accepting her relationship with Annabel).

To continue with this, we need to stop for a moment and talk about another little thing: courtly love. There are many definitions of it, but my favorite is the one that defines it as an attempt to reconcile mystical love with eroticism. Fun fact: these stories were written in the Provençal language, something that would associate romantic tropes with "vulgar language".

In any case, courtly love usually speaks of the beloved maiden as an idealized object, a figure who inspires an almost religious devotion. And the most recurrent theme within courtly love is what is called "love from afar": it focuses more on the journey in search of the beloved than on the couple's relationship as such (this journey can be literal or metaphorical), the knight has symbols associated with the pilgrim, there is a certain hatred of the image, the maiden is seen as an almost religious figure, and...

Yes, the color associated with the so-called "love from afar", specifically with the beloved maiden, is damn blue.

Now that we've got all that out of the way, it's time to break down why Lenore fulfills some of these things and why she doesn't.

Going with the tropes that are fulfilled, we can say that Lenore is on a more or less metaphorical journey. A journey to recover her memories and her identity. One at the end of which her lover waits for her "until the abyss claims them both".

Like a knight, Lenore is willing to make great personal sacrifices in pursuit of the things she cares about: she is willing to die for the people she cares about (the misfits) and for her lover (Annabel). The Living Long Thing is something the Knight don't know about, and since Lenore is in Nevermore, apparently neither does she.

With all that said, it's worth noting the biggest difference: courtly love features relationships based on vassalage and a huge power differential. Something that does not happen here. No, Lenore calling Annabel "my liege" doesn't count.

To explain this further -and to summarize, because it's a subject that bloody books have been written about-t he relationships in courtly love have two different levels of power: the knight must perform feats to be worthy of affection, and the maiden is little more than a prize to be won.

This unbalanced power dynamic is something that simply does not exist in the White Raven: an important part of their relationship is that both are equal in charisma, intelligence, and resourcefulness. The unstoppable force and the immovable object. Annabel is as willing to die for Lenore as she is for herself, and Lenore would probably go into berserker mode if anyone dared to treat Annabel as a prize.

Yes, you could argue that the balance of power is a bit weighted toward Lenore because Annabel is willing to make sacrifices for her that Lenore wouldn't make because she has some, you know, morals. But I think that has more to do with Annabel's character than her relationship with Lenore (that's another analysis I have a pin for when the season is over).

Conclusions

If the archetypes that Annabel seems to take note of are all quite related, Lenore, on the contrary, is much more like a mosaic: these characters have little in common and some (like the Rogue and the Knight) directly contradict each other. This woman is chaotic in her conception: opportunistic and rebellious as a rogue, pious and with strong values as a knight, and condemned by the narrative as a gothic heroine.

Another thing that stands out is that two of these three archetypes are traditionally male characters. Personally, I don't think Lenore is "like a man": her entire background and personal history is meant to work in terms of her status as a woman in the time period she lives in. She can do all the shit these male heroes do and better (though the hc that Lenore is somewhere on the non-binary spectrum is not a reading that conflicts with that).

And I use the word "hero" because another detail stands out here as well: yes, many of these characters are not only often the protagonists of the stories they are in, they are heroes within their historical periods and literary movements.

I'm going to do a third part of this comparing Lenore's archetypes to Annabel's because, believe me, there's some really crazy stuff to unpack there.

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #white raven #lenore vandernacht

[valyrfia]

I have to way I'm a bit surprised by all the hate charles gets and all the support carlos gets

I used to think charles was more popular

I guess when it comes to Fandom he does have a bigger one, but I think general audiences seems to support carlos more

Maybe it's underdog narrative idk. Like charles is constantly called spoiled, brat, whiny etc whenever he says ANYTHING that isn't super nice, while carlos can bitch as much as he want and barely gets called out

Fandom is always a bubble. I'd say the top two drivers in fandom are probably Charles, Max, and Lando because they're the ones that are popular with younger audiences. It's certainly not true outside. Sure, there's an RPF to fandom, but I think it's also worth noting as well if you're in F1 fandom, you're probably a more avid viewer of the sport than most casual fans, so things like Max's current domination are made more interesting by knowing the ins and outs of his journey, and it's easier to reject anti-Charles viewpoints because when you watch a drive like Suzuka in real time and look at the data afterwards, you understand why the past four WDCs think him generational, and why Carlos is a GOOD driver, indisputably, but has a deficit of skill in comparison to Charles which is masked with luck.

Also ultimately, it's a difference in what type of PR sells to different generations as well. Charles has carefully cultivated quite a strong parasocial relationship with a very loyal fanbase mainly comprising of the countries of Italy and Monaco and younger fans–he does this through playing into inside jokes online with his fans, making us feel like we have a 'special' understanding with him by liking certain tweets, or using certain emojis, or using pictures for his instagram that sneakily reflect a piece of online discourse that happened on a race weekend. Carlos has gone for the more traditional media approach of an underdog narrative to gain sympathy, but he doesn't have the same legion of loyal fans as Charles and makes no effort to build the same fan backchannels that Charles does, which is why I think that Charles, ultimately, will win the PR game. The support of traditional media is fickle, but the lecfosi would follow Charles into hell if asked. It's why Charles knows ventures like LEC or his music will succeed, wheras can the same be said for Carlos outside of Spain?

#i am always super wary of those who seek to build parasocial fanbases but i think charles has managed it in a taylor swift way ie quite well #lando also has a parasocial relationship with his fans but i think he manages that one worse #max in a weird way does not want anything to do with parasocial relationships at all but him basically being a child star helped build one #also i think he piggybacks off of lando's and charles' a fair bit #carlos also piggybacks off of lando's but in a weird way the positive effect from that one is balanced out by the negative from charles' #anyway thoughts! #f1 journalism discourse #f1 parasocial PR #charles leclerc #anon #asks

[delicatesoundofthunderr]

Lock-up ~ Chapter 1

{Charles Leclerc x Reader}

Y/N L/N is the new hope of RedBull. Though, her start to the season could’ve known some better days. With RedBull’s pressure, her dad’s reminders that she is only here because of him and Max’s behaviour, Y/N has a lot on her mind.

Someone she used to know seems to notice, but can’t decided wether or not to help.

Read to see how this all unfolds ❤️

hope yall enjoy!!

•••

I changed a bit of things in F1 to make this story work, therefore Perez does not exist anymore 😭. Also the calendar is different, and I made the reader Canadian but her dad's Italian.

The story will be both present, and past for flashbacks and explanations.

Heres a short diagram of the teams Charles and Y/N have been in.

Charles Y/N

2018 (F2): Prema Dams

2019-2020 (F1): Sauber Racing Point

present (F1):       Ferrari RedBull

This fanfic includes all the good stuff, from closed proximity to forbidden love, you guys won't ever be bored 🤭

Enjoy!!

•••

Present Day -  Spain GP, race #7

" And it's a red flag here in Spain... Who could possibly- Oh and it's Charles Leclerc and Y/N L/N who have crashed!" the commentator's voice boomed through the speakers.

Both cars were immobile in the gravel pits of the circuit, with Charles' front wing stuck in the wall.

" For those of you that are new to Formula One, let's just say these two have made it a habit of constantly fighting each other since the start of the season... once in a while resulting into both of their DNFs," The other commentator continued.

" What a fucking idiot. Turning into me like that, what the hell was i supposed to do?" Y/N complained in her radio.

" If she keeps pulling stuff like that she could literally kill someone, including herself. When will she learn to control herself?" Charles screamed in his team radio.

Both drivers got out of their cars without a scratch, and the glare they gave each other through furrowed brows must've been the most intense part of the whole crash.

•••

It wasn't always like this. Battling the other dangerously, loathing stares, and hateful speeches.

Two years ago, when you were with Racing Point and he Sauber, you and Charles were inseparable. People went as far as saying you guys were dating, but that theory was quickly shut down since at that time Charles had a girlfriend and you were seeing someone.

You guys had formed habits together, but the most important one was skiing in the Alps in the off season.

•••

2 Years Ago -  Italian Alps

" Where do you think you're going next?" you ask Charles on the chairlift.

The beautiful and vast Alps were mesmerizing to look at from the chairlift, but Charles had his eyes somewhere else.

" I think we should go... Hörnli." he says, with a determined look on his face.

" Not the ski slopes idiot, the next F1 team you're joining," you laugh.

Skiing and hiking the Alps was your tradition with Charles. It was your third time doing it by now.

" Oh my god I'm so stupid. Well Ferrari have reached out, so if I have the opportunity I'm definitely taking it. What about you?" he watches you carefully.

" I don't know yet. I should know soon though." You added with a smile that quickly faded.

" Don't worry, There's definitely a big team that has you in their sights." He said, flashing you a smile. " Imagine you end up in Ferrari with me!" he added hopefully.

" Oh I don't think you could handle me beating you every race." you teased, shoving him slightly.

" Oh, You wish! Still... I must admit you're the toughest opponent I've had... yet." he smugly added.

His compliment had caught you off-guard.

" You really think so?" you questioned with a cocky smile. " I'm touched."

" I said yet, and with the cars that we have right now. We'll see when we're in bigger teams." he challenged.

" You didn't specify cars..." you teased.

" Oh shut up," he chuckles, hitting you with his ski stick.

Your laughs could almost be heard echoing in the vast mountains of Italy.

Then, you signed with RedBull.

•••

The tension began at the start of this season, ever since Charles joined his dear Scuderia and you RedBull.

Ever since the Canadian Grand Prix.

Charles' selfish action had cost him his already fragile friendship with you. He wanted to get back at you for what you did to him in Monaco. He let his greed cloud his thoughts, but perhaps there was another emotion present in his thinking...

•••

Past - Monaco GP - race 1

Y/N POV

I had to prove myself. Being the only woman on the F1 grid put a suffocating pressure on my chest, because I had to be perfect no matter the occasion. On and off track.

Winning this historical race meant winning everybody's respect. Especially my dad's. He would have no other choice but to hug me tightly after the win, right? Surely he wouldn't have any reasons to be disappointed in me?

I was both eager and scared to find out. My dad  only wants the best for me, but he sometimes struggles to show it. Still, I wouldn't ask for anything else. His severe teaching is the only reason I'm here.

•••

30 seconds before the lights go out. I close my eyes and go over the track in my head one last time before taking in as much air possible in my lungs and letting it go steadily. I tune out every distraction around me and look up without blinking.

Two cars in front.

Lewis on pole and Charles following.

The red lights are on... and off.

I don't have an amazing start but I manage to keep my position. The first few laps require the fullest of my concentration because of Monaco's tight corners and every car being close. I finally hear Ryan (my engineer) telling me to slow down and keep a good pace.

That was until Lewis made a mistake, leading to Charles and I passing him. There was only Charles in front now. No, not Charles. A car.

I was simply looking at a red car who, by team orders, needed to be passed.

And so I attacked. Trying to push the ferrari into making a single mistake, one I could benefit from.

The ferrari in front was incredibly good at defending, and my heart started to beat faster. There were only a few laps left. I had to win, I needed to win.

My impatience got the best of me. It pushed me over the limit, and I was the one that made the mistake. I didn't brake soon enough.

A bit of smoke is all I remember before disassociating from the moment. I fucked up. My dad was never going to let me forget this. What was the media going to say? I ruined both my race and Charles'. Not even one of us was going to celebrate tonight.

My stomach ached so much. My head was spinning. I saw two hands reaching out to me and helping me up from my seat. Was it Charles? Maybe he forgives me. He had to.

I opened my eyes and saw the ones of a worried marshal. He set me down and my eyes instantly searched for Charles'.

I found his eyes glued to his car, then they finally met mine.  The look in his eyes made my heart drop. Hatred. Hatred I created.

I knew I couldn't run up to him right now, But I had to speak to him. We've had our conflicts on-track, but they never lasted long off-track. This time was different.

I start to walk away, and then looked up to lock eyes with my father's. Disappointment. My heart pinched and anger rose in me.

•••

After the race I searched for Charles everywhere and finally found him by the stands, walking alone.

"Charles!" I call out, half expecting him to walk the other way.

He simply stopped walking and looked at me expectantly.

" Listen I'm- " But he cuts me off.

" Y/N you don't have to say anything. Racing is racing. You shouldn't stop yourself from attacking just because I'm the one in the car in front." he said, rather coldly.

I felt so relieved to hear that. I lifted my arms up to hug him, but he quickly took ahold of my wrist. He closed his eyes, and gripped my wrist tighter.

"Just... Expect the same in following races." He said, opening his eyes with a piercing gaze.

He let go of my wrist gently and turned his back on me, leaving me all alone.

What the fuck. What did he mean? His anger would probably dissipate before the next race, like it always did. Like he said, I shouldn't just stop overtaking him to make him happy.

•••

The media ate me alive, and it made me even more frustrated. First race for Redbull and this is what happens...

I make my way out of the interview room and see my dad. My throat starts to close.

" Terrible start, terrible attacking, and overall shitty race. This isn't the result of my teaching, is it?" he coldly states.

"No." I mutter out.

" What? I couldn't quite hear." he says.

" No, it's not! It's my fault entirely." I say truthfully. This was not a good example of my driving and even less of my dad's guidance.

" There you go." my dad says, patting me on the shoulder.

•••

Past - Canadian GP - race #2

Y/N POV

I qualified like shit for my home grand prix. P6 because my car had a problem, and if it wasn't enough, Charles was P7 behind me. I'll show him that his little speech didn't scare me and it was childish of him to menace me with his words.

The race was tight. I had managed to get up to P3, but Charles was very close behind. I defended him fiercely, and for a moment I thought I had it. That was until his "tires locked up" and he hit my side. Both cars were able to get back on track, although Charles ended up passing me because of this. It didn't matter. I fell down to P8 and finished the race with a disappointing P7. I was fucking fuming.

" What the hell is wrong with him? He got a penalty for that right?" I complain in my team radio at the end of the race.

" Um, unfortunately Y/N, there doesn't seem to be any penalty taken from ferrari's part." Ryan tells me.

"WHAT?" I exclaim.

How was that even fucking possible? Did me and the FIA see the same crash?

•••

The post-race interviews were now happening.

" Y/N, I'm not trying to jump to conclusions, but that move pulled off by Charles seemed intentional. Any thoughts?" the interviewer questioned.

" Yeah I think it says a lot about him," I stated angrily. "What happened in Monaco was a mistake and he had NO right to ruin my home race in return. Him not getting a penalty is also very surprising. I'll never forget this childish act from both Leclerc and the FIA." I replied, pissed.

" Those are harsh words coming from your mouth, L/N. Yet, I think this could be the start of a new rivalry between Ferrari and Redbull. Do you?" the reporter continued.

" Definitely." I firmly said.

•••

You met Leclerc on the way back to the RedBull garage.

" I can't fucking believe you Charles, Monaco was a mistake but this? This was on purpose. You did this just to prove what, exactly?" You voiced, irritated.

Charles' expression was unreadable. He seemed at conflict with himself, trying to figure out what to say.

"I think," Charles paused. " I think we should keep our distances from now on."

Your mouth fell slightly open. After all you guys had done together, the strong bond you guys had created?

" Oh, don't worry about that." You stated angrily, storming off.

•••

Present Day - Post Spain GP - race 7

You felt disappointed after today's race, like any other race that finished badly. You loved your team so much- the team that had taken you in after only a year in F1, the team that constantly supported you... Although recently you could see their trust in you falter. You couldn't help but feel like you let RedBull down each time you made a mistake, like you felt with your dad.

Max ended up winning, so you congratulated him and gave him a quick hug that didn't go unnoticed by a certain someone.

Max was like a literal brother to you, having a similar character to yours and the same dad experiences.

" You really gotta stop targeting Charles like that, Y/N. The team won't like it, and I like you, so you better stick around and stop holding grudges." Max joked.

" Mate did you see the incident? I swear he turned into me!" you retorted, eyes wide.

" Yeah..." Max chuckled, not convinced.

" Oh my god just go on the podium already." You annoyingly said, giving him one last tap on the shoulder.

Max left while laughing, and you were left smiling alone. You didn't want to listen to him when he said you should stop holding a grudge on Leclerc, but a part of you knew he was right. You should definitely focus on the championship, since a gap had formed between you and the leaders. This definitely stressed you out, with your dad's constant high expectations and the team slowly losing hope in your talent.

A sudden pair of eyes found yours in the crowd.

Leclerc's eyes had a new look in them, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You simply furrowed your brows and looked away.

~~~~

Quite a long chapter to start with, and i think the following ones will be shorter. Also this was copied from my wattpad, so if theres any mistakes im sorry hahaha

Hope yall enjoyed 💞

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #max verstappen #redbull #ferrari

[timur-pannonicus]

Language fun fact 1

People can have more than one first language. A few examples:

Children of immigrants very often learn both their parents language and the official one of their host country at an early age and develop fluency and a strong attachment to both. Oftentimes they speak in two languages before even the time of their first conscious memory.

Sometimes they don't just learn their parents language and the official language but also the local dialect or the minority language of the region. Example would be a child being born or brought early to Barcelona and learning both Spanish and Catalan in addition to their parents language. Which leads to my next example.

Sometimes the country someone is born in has two or more official languages or two or more languages are very widely spoken and used. People from countries like Tunis, Morocco and Algeria usually speak both Arabic and French.

There's also the example of couples from two different languages living in the territory of another language and their children learning all three.

However, we must not assume that the examples I listed always happen. Also we must not assume that someone from a certain ethnic group speaks the language traditionally used by that group.

Oftentimes immigrant parents DON'T teach their language to their children and those kids end up knowing only the local language. Sometimes people of an ethnic group don't learn their ancestral language despite living on that group's traditional territory due to being part of a larger country. Example would be Basque people in Spain or Kurdish people in Turkey not knowing Basque or Turkish. Conversely, sometimes a group isolates itself so much children from it speak the official language like a foreign tongue. Example would be Hungarians in Romania.

Hope the info was entertaining xD

#language learning #language #langblr #sociology #social impact #politics #history #human experience

[milaisreading]

🌱🩷: 3rd story for the Christmas series. This will have some cute, platonic fluff

Relationship: Isagi Yoichi x Sister!Yn (platonic) (mentions of romantic Oliver Aiku x Yn)

Warnings: Reader uses she/her.

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

🎄Dec 12th🎄

Christmas time in the Isagi household was always a warm and welcoming time. Both parents would always buy the presents they knew both (Y/n) and Yoichi wanted the whole year, and the kids would try their best to do the same in return with the allowance money. For (Y/n) she loved the time she spends with her family. After Yoichi started pursuing football professionally and left Japan to play for a team in Spain, she started looking forward to the holidays where Yoichi would be home for a week or two.

And as for Yoichi, he missed his sister and parents, the daily talks and meals they would share. And well, Christmas was the one thing he looked forward to a lot, and a specific tradition him and (Y/n) had since they were 14-15.

🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️

'I wonder what we will bake this year. Hope it involves chocolate.' Yoichi thought while his dad drove him home from the airport.

"And, how was it in Spain the past few months? We watched the last match you had. I don't know what was happening, but I can see you enjoyed yourself a lot." Issei spoke up, causing Yoichi to look at him with a grin.

"Yep! It was great, the team we played against was tough to crack, but we made it in the end. It was a good way to start off the season. How are you and mom?"

"We have been good. Mom is home, preparing dinner like crazy since Oliver will be joining is this Christmas as well."

"Oh yeah, (Y/n) mentioned it a few nights ago when we talked. Did they arrive yet?"

"Not yet. Their flight had to be delayed because of a storm."

"Oh... I hope they come home soon." Yoichi muttered, a little worried, but he knew everything will be fine.

🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️

Once back home, Isagi and his parents ate the dinner Iyo prepared and Isagi talked about his recent shenanigans and games in Spain. Iyo and Issei would sometimes chime in with a few questions, which Isagi would gladly answer to them. After they finished dinner, Isagi helped his mom pick up the dirty plates, and then went to rummage through the cabinet where the pans and other baking utensils were.

"Yo-chan, what are you looking for?" Iyo raised an eyebrow.

"I am looking for the cookie cutters and cupcake molds sis put away last time she baked. They are still here?" He looked up as his mom nodded her head.

"It is, but isn't it too late to bake? It's nearly 10."

"I want to prepare everything so sis and I can bake once she is home. You know we have been doing that for years."

Iyo smiled as she saw the cheeky grin on Isagi's face. She put away the dishes and walked over to where he was.

"Wait, I pit them far back. Let me look for them." Iyo said as the boy moved away so that his mom could look for the items.

"Do you know what you will bake this year?"

"Mhm! Sis and I have been sending recipes for some chocolate cookies back and forth." He answered, taking the baking items from his mom's hands.

"That's good to hear! I wonder when they will come... Issei, did (Y/n) call yet?"

Both Isagi and his mom looked over at the entrance of the kitchen, hearing the man's footsteps come closer to the room.

"She texted me a minute ago. Because of the storm, they had to land in Osaka. (Y/n) said her and Oliver will sleep in a hotel tonight and drive to Saitama tomorrow."

"Is sis ok? The flight wasn't too bad, was it?" Isagi asked in worry.

"No, don't worry. She told me it was just near the end when it became dangerous. (Y/n) and Oliver are fine as far as I could tell."

Isagi, along with his mom, let out a sigh of relief and they continued on with their night as normal. Isagi would from time to time text (Y/n), to check in on how she is doing.

'I hope we have the cocoa powder.'

🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️

Isagi had to admit that one of the best feelings is waking up in his bed, in his home. There was just something comforting about sleeping in after a hard week of work, and that comfort got stronger 100 times when he realized he was back in Saitama. Isagi stayed in his bed for a good 20 minutes after waking up, then got ready for the day.

'It snowed a lot last night.' Isagi mused as he looked out the window in the hallway.

"Is anyone even awake yet?" The boy froze as he heard a familiar male's voice.

"Mom and dad are still asleep, I don't know about Yoichi. He sometimes sleeps in, and sometimes he is up early."

"(Y/n) and Aiku are here already..." Isagi muttered as he quickly walked down the stairs.

"Sis! You are home already?" Isagi wondered as he walked to the living room.

"Ahh! There you are! I thought you were still asleep!" (Y/n) chuckled as Oliver waved at Isagi.

"Sup, dude! When did you come back?"

"Oh? Last night! I am happy you two made it home safe. Was the ride from Osaka good?"

Isagi wondered as he and (Y/n) hugged.

"It was ok. It snowed a lot last night, so I was a little worried we will drive for longer."

"Could have been worse." Oliver yawned, high-fiving Isagi as he let go of (Y/n).

"At least we are home. I saw you already prepared the items we can use for backing." (Y/n) looked over at Isagi, patting his head.

"Yeah, I did last night. Mom helped me find them."

"Alright then! I will go freshen up and change clothes, we can bake then. Ok?"

Isagi nodded his head.

☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄☃️🎄

"Alright! We have everything ready! Yoichi, you mix up the wet ingredients and I will mix up the dry ones and prepare the molds and oven." The boy nodded his head and took the items needed as (Y/n) started doing her part.

"Sure! By the way, how is it in Italy? I know we talk a lot about it, but..." Isagi trailed off as (Y/n) took out the mixer.

"It's been great. But, I do get anxious at times when I have to speak Italian. I am not all that fluent yet." She laughed a little while mixing.

"What about you? Are you enjoying your life in Spain?"

Isagi smiled and nodded his head.

"Yeah! Everyone is very nice and the older teammates are willing to help out when we need help. My Spanish is so far... ok-ish. Luna-san says I nailed the accent."

"Good to hear that! You had me worried how you will learn it. You were never all too found in languages. Remember when I tried to teach you English?" She teased the younger while mixing up the dry and wet ingredient, causing Isagi to blush in embarrassment.

"I did my best! Languages are hard!" (Y/n) laughed at his reaction, poking his cheek when she finished mixing.

"Yeah, yeah. You always had football in your head. Anyways, let's shape up the cookies, and then we can move to cupcakes and prepare to decorate them."

Pouting, Isagi nodded his head.

"Meanie~"

"Love you, too."

"Can I join the baking, too? It's kinda boring being all alone-"

"No!"

"Sorry, Oliver. It's a siblings tradition." Yoichi and (Y/n) said at the same time, causing Oliver to pout now.

"You two are so mean to me." Oliver sighed dramatically as Isagi rolled his eyes and (Y/n) laughed.

'Why did I help him even?' The younger thought, turning back to look at his sister.

"It's nice to be reunited again. I really look forward to baking with you."

(Y/n) smiled and ruffle her brother's hair.

"You are adorable! And same, it's really relaxing!"

Isagi enjoyed the winter and Christmas time. It makes him feel comfortable, knowing he was with people he loved during the holidays.

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi #blue lock scenarios #isagi's sister #isagi yoichi x reader #bllk isagi #blue lock isagi #platonic blue lock

[eurothug4000]

INTERVIEW WITH SHIGENOBU MATSUYAMA - PRODUCER ON SILENT HILL THE ARCADE

I had the pleasure of interviewing Matsuyama-san, one of the producers on Silent Hill the Arcade! Here's what he had to say :)

Q - How did the idea for Silent Hill The Arcade come to be?

A - During the arcade boom of the 1990s and the 2000s, a desire was born to combine the unique worldview of the Silent Hill series - which was already a very strong IP console game-wise – with the haunted houses one might find in an amusement part. We wanted something that could provide an easy and pleasurable experience to an extremely varied range of customers… as in, the casual users. This is the idea that brought Silent Hill Arcade (SHA in short) to life. However, since our goal was to create a new kind of experience that could not be replicated anywhere else, we designed a game that could make the most effective use of the 5.1ch surround sound system, which was something that arcade games hadn’t adopted until that point, with a type of cabinet that could be somewhat isolated from the rest of the arcade via the use of curtains.

Q - Roughly how long did development for the game take?

A - At the time, the development cycle of an arcade game was so short it would be unimaginable today. The shortest one was around six months, the longest about one year and a half. I think SHA took us around one year and two months.

Q - What parts of development were most enjoyable for you?

A – Usually, arcade games are tested a certain number of times, both during development and just before launch in each and every country where their release has been scheduled (which, for SHA, meant Japan, the US, the UK, Italy, Spain, France, Hong Kong and Singapore). In order to keep the development budget for SHA as low as possible, however, I personally traveled alone to the US for the market testing, assembled the cabinet all by myself, repaired it when it was out of order, and stood next to it for days on end, pen and paper in my hand, ready to collect the players’ data. Game development, nearly 20 years ago, was very much an analog experience. It was also hard work, but when I look back, I have so many good memories of that time.

Q - Do you remember any kinds of ideas that you and the team wanted to include in the game, but didn’t in the end?

A – I’m sure this will sound obvious, since SHA was based on a pre-existing IP, but since the framework was pretty much already set when it came to characters and plot, we had to be extremely careful not to deviate from it so that we wouldn’t create inconsistencies. Personally, I would have loved to take the story in slightly wilder directions and include new and fresh ideas.

Q - I loved seeing so many locations from Silent Hill 3 and 4 make an appearance in the game! Was the team who worked on those two games involved in making any decisions for Silent Hill The Arcade?

A - We of course personally consulted select staff members of Konami, like for example Producer Yamaoka, with whom I had been acquainted with since before SHA. However, most development teams had a mix of internal and external members that changed pretty fluidly with each and every year, so there was no real collaboration between the various teams.

Q - What level of freedom were you given for creating this original story within the Silent Hill universe? Were you given any specific directives on what you could or could not integrate/use in the story?

A - If I have to express my personal point of view on the matter, however, should you compare the storyline for SHA with the timeline of the other games, you would indeed notice a few minor inconsistencies that we were not able to completely solve. That’s something I still have regrets about.

Q - Tell me about translating a traditional survival horror experience into the rail shooter genre and control style. What kind of considerations did you have to make for this?

A - The biggest challenge was by far to design a game system that could be as simple as possible, and to regulate the level of challenge in a way that felt balanced, because we didn't want to force complicated controls or an exceedingly high difficulty level on the casual arcade players. Moreover, there was another balance we had to strike perfectly: more specifically, the one between the aforementioned "haunted house" element - the one that was unique to SHA, with its sequences of terrifying events - and the thrilling playstyle that a rail shooter should provide to the player.

Q - As a final product, what are your personal thoughts on the game?

A - I think it had a state-of-the-art sound system, that the design of the cabinet, with its creepy-looking curtains, made people want to take a peek inside, and that the rail shooting system was simple and could be enjoyed by virtually everyone. I think we managed to combine these various elements with a one-of-a-kind worldview of Silent Hill in a way that was in my opinion pretty good! Of course, each and every member of the staff did their part, and I thank all of them wholeheartedly.

Q - Are you working on anything currently that you’d like me to mention?

A - Feel free to write whatever you prefer! If anything, I should thank you, since you allowed me to walk down the nostalgia lane and recall memories from almost 20 years ago that had been dimmed down by the passage of time. Thank you very much!

Shigenobu Matsuyama's site: shig.jp

#silenthill #silenthillarcade

[arminreindl]

Prehistoric Planet Croc Ideas

So this was a thing I did on Twitter in anticipation of Prehistoric Planet. Obviously crocs (in this case meaning crocodylomorphs) were a pretty massive part of earth's fauna during the late Cretaceous, and seeing as the first season featured NONE I came to speculate which taxa could hypothetically make an appearance. Now part of the challenge for myself was to come up with a new, interesting contender every day in anticipation of the show's release, each based around the confirmed episides we had and restricted purely to taxa from the Campanian and Maastrichtian. While it took a lot of energy, I did manage to do so. Hell, halfway through they dropped the reveal of Simosuchus, which I had saved for later.

Obviously we didn't get much still, but I'll regardless post my list of candidates and ideas here, perhaps third time's the charme for a lot of these (tho for convenience I'm still ordering them by S2s episode titles). I'll also try to break them apart roughly by biome, starting with islands. PS: I'd love to hear which crocs people would have loved to see themselves. Any on this list or stuff I didn't even mention? Let me know I'm curious.

We got a shit ton of island crocs from the Cretaceous actually, which you can broadly divide into two categories. The crocodiles of the European archipelago as seen in the top row. Featuring the small, possibly shellfish eating Acynodon (art by Adramelech89), the incredibly widespread Allodaposuchus which did have some possibly semi-terrestrial forms (art by Alejandro Blanco, Aina and Agnès Amblás) and Aprosuchus, a tiny terrestrial critter from Hateg (art by @knuppitalism-with-ue). They already give a nice diversity between tiny durophages with blunt snouts, large, more traditional crocs and lanky land species.

The other island category concerns Madagascar, which had a lot of attention in season 2. Discounting Simosuchus, we got Araripesuchus tsangatsangana (art by Scott Hartman) and Mahajangasuchus (art by Mark Hallet). Both are really cool. The former is yet another smaller terrestrial species that may not actually be part of Araripesuchus, while the later is a massive, 4 meter relative of the famous Kaprosuchus that took to the water independently from all other crocs and has been nicknamed "Hippo croc" for its weird skull. Really I'd have loved to seen an episode entirely dedicated to this place.

Next up we had the badlands episode, which oh boy has a lot of contenders from the clade Notosuchia. Brace yourself.

Here again I could split these in two categories. The first is just general badland taxa. There's Ogresuchus for example, from Spain's Tremp Formation (art by Aina and Agnès Amblás). A relatively small sebecid found in a sauropod nesting site. And we all know what PhP does with baby sauropods. Or the long-necked Gobiosuchus (art by @yoofilos) from Mongolia, which may look like its related to the other ones in this category but actually is a far more ancient type of croc.

The far bigger group concerns South America's Notosuchians. ALL OF THESE are from the Bauru Group, with some even from the same single formation. You got Stratiotosuchus (again by Joschua Knüppe), a large terrestrial baurusuchid that filled the nische of mid sized carnivore in an environment shared by sauropods and abelisaurs. There's Pissarrachampsa (by Felipe Alves Elias), another baurusuchid I decided to feature because we have evidence of a nesting site that shows they only had few eggs. A great opportunity to show their tender side. Uberabasuchus (justin_an74), part of the bizzarly proportioned peirosaurids. Adamantinasuchus (by Deverson da Silva), a small, lanky Notosuchian and of course the heavily armored omnivore Armadillosuchus (by the ever talented Júlia d'Oliveira). Hell you could do a full episode just on the foodweb of the Bauru Group (Godoy et al. 2014).

Then there's swamps, which I'll just use to dump all the crocs that don't fit into the other categories.

As you'd expect, freshwater would be ideal for crocs with a more traditional semi-aquatic lifestyle, here represented by three forms. Jiangxisuchus (image by Li et al. 2014) is a paralligatorid, which are tiny crocodilians from the Cretaceous and Paleogene of east Asia. We honestly don't know what they are, some say alligator relatives, others say they are closer to crocs. But its small and cute. Then there's Roxochampsa (artist of the model I couldn't find), which looks suspiciously crocodilian but is actually a relative of Uberabasuchus from the badlands, hell it appeared in the same formation. Still, I reasoned that I'd throw it into this category because I already proposed so much for badlands (none of which came true but hey). And then there's Denazinosuchus (art by Andrey Atuchin). Again it looks deceptively like a modern croc, but is actually the last remnant of the goniopholids, crocodyliforms that were prominent animals in the Jurassic and early Cretaceous. It could have brought both taxonomic diversity nad highlighted croc resilience till the end.

When it came to picking out crocs for Oceans, it got tricky. Obviously season 2 tried to differentiate itself by being set more in the open ocean, not the coast, and true pelagic crocodiles weren't around by the end of the Cretaceous. So I had to settle for coastal animals. There's Sabinosuchus (Schiller II et al. 2016), a cousin to Sarcosuchus and, like Denazinosuchus, one of the last of its lineage. Also its from Mexico which is rarely talked about for its fossils. Rhabdognathus (Ghedoghedo) is a distant cousin, a slender snouted dyrosaur. Unlike pholidosaurs, dyrosaurs actually did really well after the KPG impact and spread around a lot, living way into the Eocene. And finally Chenanisuchus (art by artbyjrc), which like Rhabdognathus was found both before and after the impact that killed the dinosaurs.

And the final two I shall talk about, both of which I thought/hoped would appear in the North America episode. Again, there's certainly overlap, both would have just as much fit into swamps, while many others would have also suited North America. Regardless, here's Brachychampsa (Tom Parker) and Borealosuchus (Chris Masna), both iconic animals from the Hell Creek Formation. One closely allied with alligators and caimans, the other more basal with a head-shape more similar to todays crocodiles.

Now obviously there'd have been a lot more. Part of the challenge to myself was to try and be as diverse as possible, rather than just listing 10 different baurusuchids I went with only two, tried to include as much of the world as possible, etc.... There's also the fact that some really awesome taxa, Titanochampsa, Brachiosuchus and Eurycephalosuchus, all incredibly unique or interesting, were published too late to have been considered for the show. And now, in hinsight, we obviously know that with the exception of Simosuchus none of them made it in. Which is a shame, but maybe next time.

#prehistory #palaeblr #crocodile #paleontology #long post #prehistoric planet #prehistoric planet 2 #borealosuchus #brachychampsa #simosuchus #pissarrachampsa #stratiotosuchus #gobiosuchus #ogresuchus #uberabasuchus #roxochampsa #armadillosuchus #adamantinasuchus #jiangxisuchus #denazinosuchus #sabinosuchus #rhabdognathus #chenanisuchus #mahajangasuchus #araripesuchus #acynodon #allodaposuchus #aprosuchus

[headfullofpresley]

𝐍𝐘𝐄 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐄𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 🥂 | 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Warnings: strong language, alcohol consumption, el and the guys being unhinged with fireworks, clubbing, drunk elvis and drunk reader (can you tell i need a night out? lmao), tiny mention of the colonel, drunk parents, lil bit of smut at the end, mention of throwing up, hangoverssss.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR, MY LOVES!!! 🎆 be careful with your lil fingers and don't forget to drink lots of water before bed to fight off that January 1st hangover ;)

masterlist

New Years Eve at Graceland is even more rowdy than Christmas.

Everyone is there; the guys and their partners, family from both your and Elvis' side, friends from outside of town and even some local fans that you got friendly with throughout time.

Before everyone arrived, you and Elvis made sure valuable things were locked away just in case things would get a little crazy (or more so, if someone got a little too drunk).

Elvis allowed you to create a photo corner in the music room – you'd hung up a mix of gold and silver tinsel curtain in front of the curtains by the window, creating a fun backdrop for the pictures.

You went all out, disco balls and photo props included.

Naturally, you and Elvis matched as he was wearing black and red and you were in a little black dress with red heels.

Drinks and food were served all through the night, keeping everyone satisfied. You and Elvis were good hosts and you liked seeing everyone having fun at your parties.

With the year 1970 only a few hours away, everyone's spirits are high and it doesn't take long before the drinks started doing their job.

Vernon is visibly loosened up, along with your father, trying to get the attention from your female friends even though both their wives are dancing their little hearts out near the dining room.

Both men were rather tough cookies to crack, so you enjoy seeing them like this, even though they are being typical men.

As long as your girlfriends aren't uncomfortable, you're fine with it.

You and Elvis have a full on photoshoot in the music room, with a tipsy Sonny as your photographer.

“Guys, can’t you ask someone else? They keep comin’ out all blurry,” he'd giggle, throwing another failed polaroid on top of the covered piano.

“’S because you keep wigglin’ on those giraffe legs of yours. Give it to me,” Elvis allowed his friend to go back to drinking as he took the camera out of Sonny's hand, turning back to you.

You could've easily used the digital camera, but you wanted to use the polaroid because you liked the aesthetics of it more.

And what Elvis' baby wanted, Elvis' baby got.

You'd pout at him when he told you to pose because you wanted him to be in it, but you did as told and put a glittery '1970' headband on your head as you posed for the camera.

After a few pictures, you switched places and took pictures of him as he used other props to pose with.

More people joined in on the fun and Joe eventually managed to take some cute pictures of you and Elvis, before you posed with the group and so on.

Because there were so many people at the house that wanted both your and Elvis' attention, you two would often be lingering around other people.

You'd catch up with your girls and family and joke around with his fans, while he'd be belting out laughter and jokes with other people.

The more he drank, the louder he got but as long as he'd stay away from the beer and champagne, you knew he'd be fine.

He'd catch your eye from across the room and mouth the words of the song playing to you, or shoot you flirty winks which you gladly returned.

Well before midnight, he found his way back to you and had you pressed firmly against his side as he took you in the kitchen where it was a little less crowded.

The two of you didn't have any special traditions other than a midnight kiss on NYE, but he had recently read something about a Mexican tradition that he wanted to try.

“Or was it from Spain? I don’ remember, honey, but basically we eat twelve grapes and make twelve wishes,” he'd grin as he held up the grapes in front of your face.

“Aren’t we supposed to do this at midnight?”

“Yes, but I really jus’ wanted some grapes,” he'd giggle boyishly, holding out a grape in front of your mouth.

You weren't sure if this was really how the tradition was done, but he made it his own as he'd feed you a grape and make a wish for you instead for himself when he did so.

You went along with it, doing the same as he did.

You were probably doing it wrong, but you liked this little moment you and him were having away from the party.

The Colonel wasn't a big fan of NYE bashes, but he showed up a little before midnight to wish Elvis and the others a happy new year.

You didn't give him much attention; serving him a drink and wishing him an early happy new year, before you made your way outside where Elvis and the guys were setting up the fireworks.

Ofcourse, you had stolen one of Elvis' coats to keep you warm as you sipped on your drink and got your sparklers ready.

Most of the fans were outside as well; the ones attending the party keeping you and some other friends company, younger fans watching excitedly from the other side of the gates.

As the countdown on the TV started, the guys came back to the house to find their way to their partners and to be there to wish everyone a happy new year.

Elvis was right there beside you, his arm swung over your shoulder, apples of his cheeks flushed due to the alcohol as he was smiling brightly while counting down the seconds loudly.

You counted with him, already moving closer to his face to close the distance between you.

When the clock struck twelve, everyone roared out a “Happy New Year!” and kissed and hugged.

As every year, Elvis kissed you deeply, sensually and probably longer than anyone else kissed their respected partners.

“Man, it’s the first kiss of the year. That’s my good luck charm right there,” he'd grin as Jerry and Red eventually pulled him off, pecking your lips a few more times before he allowed himself to be dragged away and onto the driveway to light the fireworks.

Having lit half of them on Christmas Eve, the show wouldn't last as long as usual but they still had enough to draw everyone's attention.

You wished everyone around you a happy new year, sneaking your way inside when (ofcourse) Elvis and the guys found themselves in one of their firework wars again.

You spend some time with your family, wishing them a happy new year and making sure they were still having fun.

At 1 am, all the fireworks had been lit and as the guys made their way back in the house, some people were leaving to attend other parties or go out clubbing.

You, Elvis, the guys and some fans left to go to TJ's Nightclub to dance the night away and go see Alan who was unfortunately working tonight.

Some family stayed behind at Graceland, as they would be staying the night. You weren't worried at all, knowing your mother was sober.

You and Elvis had been repeating yourselves for about an hour when you arrived at the club.

Wishing everyone a happy new year and so on.

Elvis had rented out the place until the early morning hours, but some people that had been invited hadn't been at the house so you were happily greeting old and new friends.

Alan was happy to see you, Elvis and the others, knowing that Elvis wouldn't let him work too hard.

Which he didn't; Alan soon left the work to his co-workers, sneaking away from the bar and into the dancing crowd.

When clubbing, Elvis was usually the type to sit in one of the booths with the other guys and join you for a dance or two... if you were luckily.

This time, he didn't leave your side once – probably because of the drinks he had already nursed at the house and because he wasn't blind, he saw the way some of his male fans were looking at you.

Come to think of it, he figured they were probably your fans rather than his.

You were oblivious to the attention and happy that you didn't have to beg him to dance with you, happily following him as he twirled you around to the rhythm of the music.

“I have a 13th wish for you,” he'd yell loud enough for you to hear him, smiling down at you as he'd have his arms wrapped around your waist.

“What is it, El?”

“My wish for you is that you’ll always be happy and that all your dreams’ll come true. Whether that’s with me, or not,”

“Oh shut it, you big idiot. Ofcourse it’ll be with you,” you'd laugh at the way he slurred his words a little, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I know, jus’ wanted to hear what you were gon’ say,”

He'd grin like a fool, twirling you around again before you even had the chance to reply, laughing at his antics.

Shots shots shots!

So many shots.

Both you and Elvis hadn't learned from your Christmas morning hangover.

It's only NYE once a year, isn't it?

You'd try pretty much every shot on the menu but when you two downed a couple of shots of tequila, you could barely think straight anymore.

Every time someone would walk a little too close to you or look at you for too long, you saw Elvis' jaw clenching and him shooting them the dirtiest look he could muster, no matter to who it was.

You managed to distract him every time though, making him dance or asking him for a lighter even though you had one in your purse.

Thankfully, he kept himself under control.

At around 5 am, you mentioned to Elvis that you were hungry and now the both of you couldn't stop thinking about food.

Most of your friends weren't ready to leave yet, so the both of you snuck out of the club.

Probably not the smartest idea, but since neither of you could drive, you started to walk through downtown Memphis on the hunt for food.

You found it at a 24 hour diner, which was completely empty apart from the people who worked there.

After some autographs being given out by Elvis (which took him a little longer than usual) and small talk, the two of you indulged in the greasiest burger on the menu.

In that moment, your drunk self felt more happy than on any other day and Elvis seemed to feel the same.

But after stuffing your face and going outside for a smoke and some air, it dawned on the both of you that you didn't have a ride back home.

Graceland wasn't exactly walking distance, especially not in the state you were in.

Going back into the diner with Elvis to call your mother to ask if she could pick you up, you felt like a teenager again.

Especially when your poor mother pulled up in her pajamas, laughing at you two after she playfully scolded you.

“’S all Y/N’s fault, ma’am. I didn’t do nothin’,” Elvis laughed from the passenger's seat, fumbling with the radio as your mother kept slapping his hand away, which only made him laugh harder.

“Zip it, Presley,” glaring at him, you'd slap his shoulder.

He would then reach his arm out to you and try to grab you, leaning over his seat which made your mother's scolding turn a bit more serious before she'd crash the car.

Back at the house, it was a surprise you and Elvis managed to make it into the bedroom.

Once you were undressed and freshened up, you were wide awake as you lay next to each other.

Now sex with Elvis while he was this drunk, was do-able. Sex while you were both in this state? A disaster.

You couldn't stop laughing the entire time, making him laugh as well; even when he was balls deep inside of you.

“Goddamnit woman, will ya stop laughing? I can’t focus,”

This would only make you laugh harder, your muscles tightening around him as you did and while he was still laughing, he couldn't hold back a moan.

You had to clasp a hand over both your and his mouth as he decided to fuck you into the mattress nonetheless, your drunk mind praying your family wouldn't hear you.

Your laughter soon died down as he hit your g spot with every thrust and he came inside of you when your muscles wouldn't stop squeezing him.

The both of you were dizzy after; high on colorful cocktails, shots and delicious orgasms.

“Love you, little,”

“Love you too, baby,”

You forced yourself (and him) to clean yourselves up again and once you got back into bed, it didn't take neither of you long to drift off into a deep slumber.

You were more than happy to sleep the first day of the new year away, snuggled up to your man.

The only time Elvis and you did leave the bed, was to run to the bathroom to take turns throwing up the contents of your stomach.

#elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis presley x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley imagine #elvis imagine #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis x you #austin!elvis x y/n #elvis headcanons #elvis presley headcanons #austin!elvis headcanons #elvis smut #elvis presley smut #elvis #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #tamwrites

[canirove]

Granada | Chapter 1

Summary: With war knocking at their the door, Lady Rowena Rice is forced to marry a prince from a foreign country and move abroad, leaving behind her family and her life. Despite initially hating everything and wanting to run away, she finds herself falling in love with her new home, its traditions and its people. But will she also fall in love with her husband?

Author’s note:  And I’m back with another period drama! I had been wanting to write one with Rúben for a long time, and I finally found the inspiration to do it 😁 This is a spin-off of “Little Poppy”, my story with Declan Rice, and there are nods to it here and there, but you don't need to have read one to follow the other. It took me ages to find a title until I settled for Granada. It is a city in the south of Spain that inspired me while picturing Rúben’s kingdom (if you have watched “Game of Thrones”, think Dorne), but it also is the Spanish word for pomegranate, a fruit that will be meaningful throughout the story for both Rúben and Rowena. This has been one of the stories I’ve enjoyed the most writing, so I hope you like it as much. And, as always, thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

"What if I run away?"

"Rowena..."

"I could take some of Anthony's clothes, cut my hair and..."

"Do not dare touching your hair" Anne said, threatening her friend with her finger.

"Alright, fine. I won't touch my hair. But what about a fake beard? I can also wear a fake fat belly and hide my hair with a hat. Say my name is... Robert."

"Rowena, can you please stop?" Anne said, sitting on the bed next to her. "You can't run away from this. None of us can."

"I can. I just need the perfect plan."

"There is no perfect plan. War is knocking at our door, and we must do this to protect our people."

"I'm more useful on the battlefield than married to some random prince."

"He isn't random. He is the second in line to the throne of one of the most powerful kingdoms out there."

"One full of barbarians" Rowena replied, crossing her arms over chest.

"Have you ever met anyone from there?"

"I have not, no. But I've heard stories."

"What stories?"

"Just... stories" she shrugged.

"Rowena, I know you hate this. And I don't like it that much either. But it is our duty."

"Our duty" Rowena scoffed, rolling her eyes. "We are born to do more than just marry and bring children to the world. Look at shieldmaidens. They did that, but they also fought next to men and ruled over them."

"My mother rules over men too" Anne pointed out. "And you like vikings, who historically have been called barbarians, but not our future people?"

"They will never be my people. My people are the ones outside these walls."

"And if we don't marry and seal this alliance, your people will have no future. This may not be the way you would have chosen to protect them, but it is the one you were offered, so make the most of it. I know I will."

"You'll have it easier, Anne. You are marrying the heir, you will be Queen one day."

"And I plan to have you by my side" she said, taking Rowena's hand on hers and giving it an encouraging squeeze. "This will work out. You'll see."

"What if I hide on one of the boats that leaves for the south?"

"Urgh" Anne groaned, getting up from the bed and going back to trying to decide which books she wanted to take with her.

In just two days, she and Rowena would leave their home and their families to marry some random princes, the marriages forming an alliance between both their countries to protect them against the common enemy coming from the south. Though they hadn't been the only ones forced to marry someone they didn't know. Liam, Anne's older brother and heir to the throne, was marrying a princess from one of the other countries who suffered the threat of these new enemies. The only lucky one, had been Anthony. Since he was a soldier with a promising career, he was more useful on the battlefield than at court. And that's where Rowena would like to be too. Fighting.

Anthony was the son of Lord Mason Mount (or Count Mount, but he never liked the rhyme), and Rowena the eldest daughter of Lord Declan Rice. They had grown up at court with Anne and Liam, the Queen's children, and it had always been the four of them together. Though Rowena had always felt closer to Anthony.

Their parents were like family, and she saw him as his little brother despite him always reminding her that he was just a few months younger than her. Growing up, instead of playing with dolls like other girls and her sisters were doing, Rowena was interested in learning how to fight, how to use a sword, an axe, a shield. She wanted to be like Lagertha, the shieldmaiden from her favourite book. She was a viking, but also a queen, and many people had feared her and respected her, including the king who ruled Rowena's home back in the day.

Her parents always gave her the freedom to learn how to fight if that was what she liked, never caring about what people said. But they made her promise that she would also learn what was considered appropriate for a lady her age and from her status, because in the future, that would end up being her most useful skill. It was as if they knew what was going to happen.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━          

"I'm going to miss you so much" Rowena's mother said while hugging her.

"Then don't let me go" she replied.

"I wish I could make you stay, Rowena. But there is nothing we can do now."

"We could always run away now that no one is watching."

"And go where, uh?" Lord Rice said.

"I don't know... But as long as we are together, we will be fine."

"What about your sisters, tho? We can't leave them here."

"We'll write to them once we've found a place where we are safe so they can join us."

"Oh, Rowena" her mother said while hugging her tighter.

"It's time, my lady" a guard said behind them.

"Mother" Rowena whispered, tears coming to her eyes. "I don't want to leave you."

"You are the strongest and cleverest young woman I've ever met. You'll be fine" her father said, joining their hug.

"And if that husband of yours doesn't treat you well, you will put him in his place like I did with mine."

"Hey!" Lord Rice complained. "I've always treated you like a queen."

"Have you, Deccy?"

"Always, little poppy."

"I'm going to miss you so much" Rowena said, the way their parents talked to each other making her not being able to contain her tears anymore.

"We'll miss you too, darling" her mother said. "We'll miss you too."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━          

"Told you it was a country full of barbarians."

"Stop complaining, Rowena. It isn't that bad" Anne replied, their coach driving over a hole so big that made both of them jump from their seats.

"Were saying?"

"I'm sure once we are closer to the palace it will get better."

"Or worse" Rowena whispered.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━          

"It's time" Anne said, getting up from her seat as she heard someone opening the door of their coach.

"It's time" Rowena repeated after her, her comment followed by a gasp. This palace was not what she was expecting.

They had seen it from the road, a big brown thing standing on top of a hill. A big brown and boring thing. But the patio where they had arrived, was something she had ever seen before. The arches that surrounded it were carved with exquisite motives, the walls were covered by many colours, and a fountain and some small trees stood in the middle of it. It was simply beautiful.

"Barbarians, uh?" Anne chuckled.

"Shh" Rowena replied, looking at her surroundings in awe.

"My ladies, it is so nice to finally have you here" a man said. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm King Joao, and this is my wife Queen Izabel."

"Your majesties" both Anne and Rowena said at the same time.

"And this is our son Prince Diogo. Your future husband, Princess Anne" the King said, gesturing towards a man standing to his right.

When he bowed in front of Rowena, she couldn't help but stare. He had the lightest blue eyes she had ever seen, even more than her father's. And that caught her by surprise. She had heard that men in this country had dark hair, brown eyes and sunkissed skin. But the only thing of the three that Prince Diogo had, was the dark hair.

"I'm afraid your future husband hasn't arrived just yet, Lady Rice" the Queen said, bringing Rowena back to reality. "You'll have to excuse him."

"Of course" she replied, forcing a smile. What a great start.

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"If you keep looking up like that, you are going to break your neck" someone chuckled behind Rowena. After eating something with the King and the Queen and refreshing herself, she had left her chamber to go explore around the palace, Prince Diogo giving her some directions so she wouldn't get lost.

"What?" Rowena said, looking at the owner of the voice. He was a young man, and he definitely looked like the type of men she was expecting to find here. He had dark hair, sunkissed skin, and the darkest brown eyes she had ever seen. Eyes that were looking at her from head to toe, scanning every inch of her body.

"I said you will end up breaking your neck if you keep looking at the ceiling like that. What is so interesting about it?"

"It's beautiful."

"It is just a ceiling" he shrugged.

"For uncultured eyes, maybe" she said, making him laugh. "What is so funny?"

"You" he smirked.

But before Rowena could give him a reply, the Queen interrupted them.

"Oh, Rúben, finally! Where were you?"

"Out."

"Did you forget what day is today? Who was arriving?"

"Oh, yes. The princess and the other one."

"The other one?" Rowena snorted.

"Is she pretty? Please tell me she is somehow pretty, mother. I've heard the women from that country are... you know. Not the most attractive. If you are forcing me into this stupid marriage, it is the least you could do, find me a pretty wife."

"I don't know, you tell me" the Queen said, nodding towards Rowena.

"That's... That's her?" he asked, his eyes growing wide.

"Son, meet Lady Rowena Rice, your future wife. Lady Rice, meet Prince Rúben, your future husband."

#ruben dias #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias imagine #football fanfic #football imagine