#and go back to portugal

[mintierose]

Just remembered that Martyn predicted himself to die this year, I guess we wait and see

[smimon]

Once again I got emotional about the moment when he removed the spiky glasses to reveal a face of pure joy 😭 also I swear he kept looking in our direction and we made looong eye contact a few times 😳 but it ended after he couldn't understand what country we are from lol

[petrichorin]

feelings they come and they go

not with you

[theirloveisgross]

harry in portugal:

i don't have the actual source or date, i'm just laughing a bit because,

me in portugal:

mine are from summer 2022 in porto and lisboa.

so true, h, portuguese walls ARE the best. we won't take any criticisms, thank you.

[jmflowers]

couple at sunset, Praia da Ilha Deserta, Faro, Portugal

[womanwithahotdogstand]

Portugal was my dark horse of the tournament (along with Ireland.) I am manifesting a Dutch ass kicking of massive proportions.

[calumsash]

“One summer turns into ten summers, one lover turns into ten others, but this memory is still with me”

mb inspired: cashton + portugal by walk the moon

[beyeasy]

[waugh-bao]

Portugal: Week 1

[murphyslawyer]

I had to crash for two full days after returning from Rome and just noticed I gave no further updates on the girl drama.

So. My Portuguese buddy admitted they were wrong about the Italian girl and I'm sure there isn't anything worth pursuing there. And that's fine, I guess I wasn't really interested either, I was more interested in figuring out whether they were right.

But boy am I going crazy about the Germans (yeah, there are two now - the one I knew from Brussels and my roomie 🥴 I was right when I said the Germans are very friendly with me). I don't believe I have any chances with Brussels German (C.) because she's waaay above my league (yeah yeah, I know that isn't really a thing but shush) but roomie German (L.) spent a lot of time with me, was very touchy and super nice and fun. I think I felt some chemistry there, but who knows. I'm kinda clueless.

When I was leaving our last party and went to say bye to L. she hugged me for so long and so strongly, I can't stop thinking about it. She kissed my face (remember she's German) and I swear that for a second I thought she was going to kiss me for real. The thing is (because there's always something): I think she's dating someone. So now I can't be sure whether that was just a thing of the night, because we were so pumped up from the party, or if there really was something there.

[sorvete-de-pacoca]

Olá! 😊

Something a bit different, how about a prompt based on this fanart for Luciano and Afonso?

https://pin.it/F85GBnV

That's adorable!

The old time travel accident where Luciano falls into a vortex and travels to centuries in the past. With a bit of magic Arthur manages to communicate with him and assures he's working on bringing him back. All he had to do is stay alive.

"wow great help Arthur" Luciano roll his eyes. Now he was in somewhere in Portugal during 1140. In a suit (he had come for a reunion with Port) and with no phone signal. Couldn't get worse.

Except it can. And he falls into a trap in the forest. He hangs by his legs on a tree and a short figure approaches him. A boy in armor and holding a sword.

"Afonso?!"

The boy blinks surprised, he hits him with the hilt of his sword.

"Ai!"

"Silence Mouro. How do you know my name? Where's the rest of your army?" Afonso lifts his tie hanging over his face with the blade "tell me now before I take your skin off!"

"Only if you let me go!"

"Never!"

"Then I won't say anything."

"Then you will die Mouro"

"first of all, my name is not Mouro. Second, you can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because...you will get in trouble" Luciano purse his lips, thinking about something "I'm a knight just like you!"

Afonso lifts a brow "what?"

"Yes! I got ambushed my bandits and lost my horse and my sword."

Afonso lowers his sword "you can't be a knight! Your clothes are weird."

"I'm a special unity"

"who's your lord then?"

Oh shit. Luciano bites his lips thinking, it was hard to do it while hanging from a three

"It's.. Daemon"

"Daemon?"

"Daemon.. Targaryen?"

"....are you celtic?'

"yes!"

Afonso then slices the ropes. Luciano falls into the ground with a thud.

"You're safe now fellow knight" Afonso straights himself, holding his sword "I will guide you back to your Lord!"

"Thanks kiddo" Luciano groans, his back hurts.

"what's your name?" Afonso asks.

"oh.." Luciano can't really say it. He worries it may screw this timeline "it's...a secret"

"I see" Afonso nods agreeing, his eyes shining and he's curious about this strange knight.

[heavenknowsffs]

Saying "meals under $5" that have a thousand ingredients that you only use a tiny bit of, to me, is like saying "if you have all of these in your house already it's free"

[malbecmusings]

The real test of how drunk you are at the end of the night is how many times you almost bust your ass on these damn streets walking back to the marina. 🤣

[queenangella]

.

[helianskies]

“I wanted to make you a holiday dinner, but I forgot I can’t cook…”

With engport because they make me feel.thingss.

If you dont mind of course

engport make me feel things too i get it. and i most certainly do not mind indulging in that ;)

Thought

"I wanted to make you a holiday dinner," Arthur says, his face doing its best to not fall, "but I… sort of forgot I can't cook…"

"But you can cook. You have cooked," Henrique replies—a claim made in light of the food that has been waiting patiently for his return from work, and the decorated dining room that hosts it.

Amongst the dishes there's freshly cooked fish—cod—his favourite!—and roasted ham and vegetables, cabbage, potatoes, and even a light wine-tickled sauce. The rest of the bottle calls to him. Heck, Arthur has even prepared sprouts, stuffing and those funny things he calls 'pigs in blankets'. All of that in itself is special to Henrique, who, after so many hours of working, is dying to sit down with a glass, good food, and his perfect company.

Yet, Arthur has gone above and beyond to surprise him this year. The placemats are blessed with sparkling strands that seem to flicker under the light not only overhead but of the candles as well, red wax slowly dripping down towards the table. A small but very real christmas tree seems to have sprouted in one corner of the room. Christmas crackers and their terrible jokes within taunt them. And those little things have made the day all the more special.

Really, Henrique had been ready to leap at Arthur, possessed by an invisible sprig of mistletoe, but he had been stopped by Arthur's unusual and highly unexpected comment. 

Now the food is starting to cool down.

"Why don't you think you can cook?" he asks the other, who has started to pour them both a glass of wine. They honestly both need one. "You've been cooking pretty successfully for as long as I've known you."

Arthur doesn't deny it, but the small wince on his face is far from an agreement, too. "I just wanted this to be special," he says, "but I think the sauce is fucked, the vegetables are overdone, the potatoes are nowhere near as fluffy as they're supposed to be and the fish looks—"

"—looks lovely." Henrique takes a glass away from Arthur to avoid a spillage and, just as the other goes to protest something, he sets his hand on his shoulder and slowly brings him in for a hug he has waited all day for. "You," he goes on, "have worked hard all morning for this, and you've made my day, querido.”

His husband, however, does not see it that way. “So much went wrong,” he presses, pulling away again. “I’m still tempted to order us a takeaway. You know, start a new, easier holiday tradition…”

“And waste all your effort?” Henrique replies, incredulous. “Not on my watch.”

“But what if it’s all tastes as shit as it looks?”

“Hey, no. No. It doesn’t look shit. If anything, the only shit thing going on in this room, Arthur, is your stinky, stinky attitude, mister,” the brunette chides, albeit lightheartedly. It earns a huff. That is... better than nothing. “Listen,” Henrique continues, “I love the things you do for me. Things like this. It’s the thought that counts—you taught me that, remember?”

Even though Arthur nods, however, Henrique is not so convinced. 

Seeing him worry in this way—to see him be so self-conscious about the things that Henrique admired about him—is not enjoyable by any means. Especially after a long shift, a long morning, a long drive home. He just wants the other to be happy, and for them both to enjoy what little remains of Christmas Day together. 

The thing is, see, Arthur really can cook. He cooks anything from a full roast dinner to homemade pies to winter stews to foreign fancies—and it is rarely a disaster. Henrique loves coming home from a long day at the hospital to Arthur’s food, just as Arthur loves coming home from a long day at work to Henrique’s food when he had those precious days off. And he knows that Arthur knows that. He knows that Arthur knows of that specific mutual love they share.

Perhaps Arthur just needs a nudge as opposed to a serious talk. Perhaps his day has just been long, too (Henrique can’t imagine the stress that could have gone into such a wonderful, big meal like that, after all) and all he needs is the reassurance that his work in the kitchen has paid off.

That should not be so hard to do. The various aromas of quality fish and steaming honeyed vegetables just, ughh, he is so hungry… 

But before he can eat, there is clearly something he needs to do. So he takes the other’s hands in his, and says:

“You can cook, Arthur. You cook and you bake, and you do it so well when you’re in that amazingly sweet mood to do so. And even if you didn’t or couldn’t do those things,” Henrique emphasises, “I wouldn’t love you any less. You’re still my Arthur. And my Arthur—my dear, dear Arthur,” he says, their bodies so close that their noses nearly touch and he can see himself in Arthur’s eyes, “has made us a lovely festive dinner that… I’d quite like to eat before it gets cold. If he still wants to join me.”

There is a heavy pause. An exchange of glances. And then…

“Okay.”

“Just ‘okay’?”

Arthur lightly scoffs, a smile stretches feebly onto his face. His hands settle on the other’s waist and Henrique has to fight a temptation to kiss him. “It’s a very nice speech, sweetheart,” he concedes, “so yes, ‘okay’. I suppose we can eat something..."

“Good,” Henrique replies, satisfied. "And I bet it'll all be perfect."

He presses a kiss to the other’s forehead to mark the end of the matter, and just like that, a pleasant dinner, which turned into a fun and cosy evening, which turned into a rather eventful night, got underway without further incident. 

Safe to say that by the end of it all, Arthur was feeling much, much better about himself.

(And his cooking, of course.)

[ final wordcount, 976 words; prompts list found here! ]

[lunasilvis]

sad because i cannot physically attend the Lisbon european youth press conference due to my final graduation presentation.... happy because i'm encased by Portuguese trinkets/souvenirs on my desk, and cooking books and the fado of Amalia Rodrigues is only a spotify click away.... and I can still attend the committee live via Zoom :)