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#anyway this was so much harder to do in spanish than i thought
huevo-rojo · 5 months
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mi plan de estudio de español
encontré una página web con algún consejos para estudiar unos idiomas y ahora tengo un plan para estudiar español, jaja. es debajo del corte:
mi primer gol:
escribir mucho sobre mis días en vez de solo escribiendo en pocos tiempos gramaticales o con pocos oraciones estudiaré para 30 minutos (probablemente de 9-9:30 en la noche porque la universidad es difícil ;-;)
mis materiales:
el libro "complete spanish all-in-one" de gilda nissenberg - para vocabulario, gramatica, etc.
el libro "short stories in spanish for beginners" de olly richards - para leer cuentos en español
el podcast "coffee break spanish" - para practicar oída al idioma
duolingo - para más vocabulario, práctica, etc.
para practicar lo que estoy aprendiendo con las materiales y para usar las materials:
leeré un capítulo del libro de texto a la semana
escribiré sobre mi día en tumblr todos los días
leeré dos cuentas a la semana
escucharé un episodio de podcast al día
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my spanish study plan:
i found a web page with some advice for learning languages and now i have a plan for studying spanish, lmao.
my first goal:
to write at length about my days instead of writing in a few grammatical tenses or in a few sentences i will study for 30 minutes a day (probably 9-9:30pm because university is hard ;-;)
my materials:
the book "complete spanish all-in-one" by gilda nissenberg - for vocab, grammar, etc.
the book "short stories in spanish for beginners" by olly richards - to read stories in spanish
the podcast "coffee break spanish" - to practice listening to the language
duolingo - for more vocab, practice, etc.
to practice what i learn and to use the materials:
i will read one chapter of the textbook per week
i will write about my day on tumblr daily
i will read one story a week
i will listen to one podcast episode a day
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cutieln4 · 2 months
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His Loss | CL16 smau
charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x ex!reader
summary: when carlos and you broke up, everyone thought that was the last time you’d be in the paddock. they were wrong.
fc: various pinterest girls
a/n: no hate to carlos!! i just love this concept
f1wags
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f1wags Trouble in paradise for Carlos and his girlfriend, Y/n, who have been spotted arguing late last night
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username1 NOOOOOOOOO MY PARENTS
username2 i am a child of divorce
username3 ur joking😃
username4 WHAT DID HE DO TO MY WIFE???
username5 nah cause what did he do now
username6 they seem so toxic
username7 ikr as much as i love y/n…i kinda hope they break up
username8 she’s crying brooo😭
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f1wags
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f1wags One week after Y/n and Carlos seemingly broke things off, Carlos is spotted with Y/n’s best friend. Any theories as to what happened?🧐
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username1 oh so he’s a cheating bastard😊
username2 always the best friend smh
username3 wow. i feel awful for y/n
username4 y/n deserves better
username5 i thought carlos was better than that
username6 yikes that is actually wild
yourusername
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yourusername little visit back home
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username1 we love you y/n!!
francisca.cgomes beautiful as always💞
yourusername that’s all you kika🫶
username2 charles in the likes??🤨🤨
username3 IKR I NOTICED THAT TOO
username4 WHAT IS GOING ON??
username5 you deserve better girl, that boy doesn’t matter anymore
username6 we’ll always support you!
username7 girl give us the tea what happened??
username8 shut up don’t be nosy
f1wags
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f1wags Carlos brings his girlfriend into the paddock for the first time for the Spanish GP!
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username1 😒😒
username2 BOOOO👎
username3 so it’s official then huh?
username4 must be awkward cause y/n is there for one of the sponsors…
username5 BRING BACK Y/N🙌
username6 nah she deserves better than carlos
username7 carlos better have some much regret
username8 he’s unemployed anyway while y/n is thriving🥱
username9 DAMNNNNN
username10 YOU ATTEEEEE
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charles_leclerc
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charles_leclerc LET’S GOOOOO!!! Incredibly happy to get another win at Barcelona and thank you to the team for working so hard, we’ll push even harder to stay at the top❤️
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username1 there’s something so poetic about carlos’s teammate winning HIS home race while he dnfs
username2 WHO IS THAT???
username3 YOU CANT JUST DROP THAT PIC AND NOT SAY ANYTHING
username4 i have a theory but im not gonna say it
pierregasly Nice job, mate👏
username5 ummmm WHAT😃
username6 first of all, leo is such a cutie, second of all, what the fuck
username7 that should be me😣
username8 BABE WHAT ABOUT THE KIDS?? I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!!!
username9 i wish i was this delulu
username10 so you actually can’t just do that
username11 you know who this looks like…🧐
username12 hear me out...nvm i'm not gonna say it
yourusername
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yourusername i look better in the driver’s seat anyway
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username1 BODY IS TEAA
username2 HOLYYY
francisca.cgomes loveeeeee😍
username3 MARRY ME PLEASE
username4 i just know carlos is gonna come crawling back
username5 so she just used carlos's money to buy a fancy car? good thing they broke up
username6 she actually owns her own company
username7 not the ferrari...
username8 gold digger
username9 DEFINITELY his loss
username10 now that you're finally single, will you go out with me??
username11 felt the aura 50 scrolls away
yourusername added to their story
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username1 WHO IS THAT MAN
username2 flowers...interesting...
username3 you can't just post this picture and then go offline
francisca.cgomes 🤨
username4 too gorgeous to let another man hurt you
carlossainz55 wow
username5what a hoe
username6 already moving on huh?
username7 GIRL WHAT SPILL THE TEA
yourusername
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yourusername so what else is on the menu?
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username1 GIRLLLLL
username2 oscar💀
username3 he loves the carlos slander
username4 i live for the drama
username5 ME ME ME🙋‍♀️
username6 okay but WHO IS THAT????
username7 wouldn’t it be hilarious if she just dated one of carlos’s friends
username8 PLEASE I NEED THAT
username9 i need a reality tv show just about this whole situation
username10 i can tell he’s hot just by his outfit
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charles_leclerc
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charles_leclerc your loss, my gain
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username1 sorry, WHAAATTTTTT????
username2 OHHHHH???
username3 how is carlos feeling now😂
yourusername my love💞
username4 best possible outcome
username5 ME N WHO???
pierregasly Congrats mate
username6 sleeping on the highway tonight🫡
username7 ik carlos is crying himself to sleep
username8 yikes it’s gonna be awkward for the rest of the year…
username9 so is she just gonna make her way around the whole paddock?
username10 brother euhhhh🥴
username11 i knew it🤷‍♀️
yourusername
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yourusername i’ve always liked ferraris
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username1 still in shock
username2 i just know he treats her right
username3 god when will it be my turn🙏🙏
oscarpiastri Congratulations!
yourusername thank you son🫶
username4 omg😭
charles_leclerc love you ma chérie❤️
username5 upgraded to a bf with a job🙌
username6 NAH THATS CRAZYY
username7 LMFAO
username8 so who’s next after charles?
username9 stfu
username10 they’re so cute
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helen-with-an-a · 6 months
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I need to be perfect
Hi. So I kinda don't like this, but I kinda do at the same time, and I wasn't quite sure how to end it. It was also a really good request so I might use the prompt again in another way. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.
Barca Femeni x Reader ; Alexia Putellas x Reader (Platonic)
Description: R needs to be perfect and doesn't know how to stop.
Word Count: 2.4k
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“When I say ‘jump’, you say ‘how high, coach?’ Got it?” The overweight, middle-aged man with an awful comb-over had shouted to you when you were just 9 years old. His methods were basically abuse, but he produced superstars. And that is what you were going to be. A superstar. It didn’t help that you already had perfectionist tendencies, and your parents were pushy – always expecting brilliance. No, not even brilliance. The best, you had to be the best. Perfect. Flawless. Faultless. Textbook. There was no other choice.
It was no surprise that Barca had come knocking when you were barely 16. You had mixed emotions: elation that Barcelona wanted you, happiness that you could leave the cruel atmosphere you lived in, fear that you weren’t as good as they may have thought, and nervousness that you needed the horrendous conditions to thrive.
Again. More. That wasn’t good enough. You’re not trying. You need to be better. Again. Again. Again.
You had seen the media asking how Barcelona could have signed a 16-year-old rising young talent from a lower league club. The world expected you to be great, Barca expected you to be great, and your parents expected you to be great.
But you didn’t feel great. Not at first. You had turned up to pre-season and noticed how far behind you were from your teammates. You hadn’t considered that it was because they were almost double your age and had been at the club or other high-level ones for years. You were struggling slightly to get the drills – Catalan was the preferred language, and you were still barely competent in Spanish. When the season started, you weren’t used as a sub very much, making your debut in November about 85 minutes into the match. You didn’t get your first start of the season until February. You had gone from being the best in the team at your old club to being a mere blip on the team sheet.
You are useless. You can’t even make it as a sub? You are a waste of time and money. All the effort we spent on you.
Your parents weren’t helping the situation. You already had the voice in your head telling you you weren’t good enough, and the constant barrage of texts, voicemails, and phone calls after another match where you weren’t used was starting to get to you.
So, you started to push yourself. After a season of being on the sidelines too much, you knew you needed to start working harder. You didn’t realise that Jonatan had been hoping to use this first year to let you get accustomed to Spain, the style of play and build your fitness. At first, it was nothing major. You stayed late a few days a week to work on drills, set pieces and technical skills. But then it was staying late every day you had training. And then coming in early. And then you began to run to training, leaving your bags in the locker room overnight for you to go and get changed. And then you began to run back from training, too. And then you added extra at-home workouts (nothing too crazy in the beginning; mainly yoga that turned into Pilates, which turned into an additional 2 hours of bodyweight exercises). For some strange reason, you had been allowed to live by yourself. You think that it was because so many of the girls lived nearby. Ingrid and Mapi lived in the same building as you. Lucy lived on the same road as you, as did Keira, Ona and Aitana. Alexia lived less than a ten-minute walk away, and you were within easy driving distance of everyone else. But because you lived alone, no one noticed how much you were putting your body through, even on your days off and mid-season breaks.
But the hard work was paying off. You started the next season well; pre-season had gone fantastically, and your name appeared on the Starting XI for the first match of the season. It stayed there throughout the year. You had also broken into a constant starter for your national team.
Again. Again. Again. Be better. Do better. Worthless. Poor. Again. Again
You couldn’t see a problem with it. You were fast, strong, technical, good, and great. You were going on two years at Barca, thriving, and playing your best football. You were barely 18, yet you had already been nominated for the Ballon d’Or. Everything was brilliant football-wise. You had to keep going. You couldn’t stop.
Do better. Awful. Again. Be better. Shocking. Rubbish. Useless. Horrible. Again
It was your day off after an intense few weeks when the truth came crashing to the ground. The Champions League had started up again, and a series of away games took place in a short space of time. It was hard with long days away from the comfort of your own home, and your daily routine was not helping the situation. Everyone could tell you weren’t ok – but they assumed it was from the travel. Lucy had picked up a cold or something, Keira was tired, Aitana and Pina were a little achy, and Alexia and Frido were more vigilant over the needs of their bodies. Everyone was exhausted. But you had to keep going. You couldn’t stop.
In your constant pressure to improve, you failed to notice Alexia’s troubled stares, Marta’s questioning looks, Patri’s concerned glances, and Irene’s worried gazes. They knew how hard you pushed yourself … almost. They knew you stayed every day after training, and they were a little concerned. But they didn’t know the extent of it. Not in the slightest.
It was El Clasico. Real Madrid vs Barcelona. A historic rivalry. You wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep until May, but that wasn’t an option. Everything was fine. You were on the score sheet, winning and playing great football. And then Athenea slid in for a tackle, catching you on your ankle in precisely the wrong spot. You tried (successfully) not to cry, but you couldn’t help the pained gasp that escaped your mouth. Alexia had been by your side instantly, ushering the medics over and holding you in place with her Captain’s stare.
“It’s your ankle, sí?” Alexia knew it was a matter of time before an injury came for you. If only she had stepped in sooner and helped you from overworking yourself. She helped you to your feet and walked you to the dugout.
“What? No! Ale, I’m fine. See,” You stood on your sore foot to prove your point. It hurt like nothing else you’d experienced, but it was fine; you just needed to walk it off.
“No, you sit the rest of this game out, get re-assessed back home and then we see if you can play.” She said with a note of finality as you huffed, turning around and walking off before you could comment.
Terrible. Awful. Be better. Dreadful. Terrible. Hopeless. Incompetent.
You knew it was silly. Your ankle was not ok, but you needed to train. It had been 2 days since El Clasico, and you were forced not to train yesterday, but it had been a travel day, so there wasn’t much you could do. It would be fine; you had trained on injuries before. You had waited until you knew the team would be out on the pitch as you snuck into the gym. Your ankle was heavily taped, but that was fine. You could put some pressure on it – that was all you needed.
You were determined to get at least a little run in. Just a gentle jog, really, barely above walking. Just a quick 5km. Nothing too crazy. You couldn’t afford to stop training, not after everything you have worked for. With your face in a determined expression and the idiocy of a terrified teenager, you got to work. You started on the bike. The movement was a little painful, but it raised your heart rate and got blood flowing. As you moved across the equipment, the door to the gym flew open.
“Qué crees que estás haciendo?” Alexia roared, making you jump out of your skin. Your first thought was that you hadn’t spent enough time on the bike, that she was angry at you for not working hard enough. For stopping. For taking a breather. “You are injured! Why the fuck are you not resting?” Alexia stormed over to you – she seemed angry. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes were dark and stormy, and her mouth was a hard line. She was angry at you. Why was she telling you to rest? Rest? You couldn’t rest. You had to be better. Keep working harder. Push yourself to be the best.
“I …” You couldn’t answer her, you couldn’t make her angrier. You couldn’t disappoint her. “I’m sorry. I just needed some water. I’m starting again in a minute.” You rushed to get your explanation to her. She needed to know you weren’t stopping. You were just moving to a different exercise. You weren’t slacking.
“Again? What have you done already?” She wasn’t calming down. If anything, you were making her angry. With the lack of sleep, the mental exhaustion, the injury, it was becoming too much for you. Tears clouded your vision, Alexia becoming foggy as you tried to stop the emotions from bubbling up.
“I was just moving from the bike. I’ll start running now. I’m sorry. I’m not stopping, I promise.” You were a mess as you moved to start the treadmill.
Alexia stopped to look at you. Really, look at you. Your tired eyes, your dark circles and your sickly skin. The fatigue was evident in the way you stood; your body seemed too heavy for you to hold up. You also looked terrified. She couldn’t work out why, though. Yes, she was angry. A trainer had come into the medical room wondering who had cleared you for exercise. Alexia knew no one had done so; they had told her after the match that it would be 2 weeks or so before you could rejoin training at any level (after the string of injuries, the medical staff were also over-cautious in their assessments of minor injuries). So, she knew you were doing this against their advice. And that made her mad; it was one thing to push yourself in training despite coaches telling you not to overdo it but another to actively go against medical advice. But looking at you, she knew you hadn't asked for medical clearance. You were just a scared little girl.
“No, Chiquita. No, running.” Alexia was a lot calmer now, seeing your lip wobble and your eyes blink rapidly—clearly holding back tears.
“I have to. I can’t stop. I need to be better.” You whispered, ashamed of your perceived weaknesses.
“Cariño,” she cooed, reaching out to you. You flinched, not used to kind touches. Any touches you had received from coaches or captains were ones that would push you into running more, doing more drills, and practicing more set pieces. “Pequeña. You’re injured. You need to rest, mi amor.”
“I can’t rest. I need to train. I need to be better, do better.”
“No, Chiquita. You don’t. You need rest; you need to get well again.” Alexia stepped forward. She could see the war raging in your head – the desire to stop but the need to keep going. “Cariño?” Her kindness made you break. You launched yourself at her, arms wrapping around her neck as you cried into her. “Oh, amor. You’re ok. Está bien. Todo está bien. Prometo. Usted puede parar.” You sobbed into her shoulder, tears dampening her shirt as you howled. Everything was too much. You hurt, you needed to sleep, you wanted to stop, and yet you couldn’t. The voice in your head told you to keep going. Your parents and old coaches told you you weren’t allowed to stop. It was far, far, far too much for you.
“Neña, deep breaths. In … and out … vamos … in … and out.” Alexia instructed as you were becoming hysterical. She made her breaths exaggerated, slow and obvious, helping you to match hers. “Bien hecho, pequeña,” she pressed gentle kisses to your head as she eventually slowed down. “Y/N, I am not angry at you; no one is. But I need to know why you are in here and not at home resting.” Alexia implored, her hazel eyes looking directly at yours.
“I can’t stop,” you said meekly, slightly ashamed of your outburst.
“No entiendo. You can’t stop what?” She spoke slowly, like you would to a child or a scared animal.
“I can’t stop training. I need to be better. I need to do more,” you said, getting agitated—at her lack of understanding or at yourself. You weren’t quite sure.
“Amor, why do you need to be better?” Alexia was truly at a loss. You were so talented; you didn’t need to be better.
“Because everyone says so. They say so.” You looked so fragile and nervous, eyes darting around the room, your fingers twisting around each other.
“Who is ‘they’?”
“My parents … my old coaches.”
“Chiquita, listen to me. You do not need to be better. You are more than enough. You are so, so talented. You work so hard. But pushing yourself will not be good for you, the team, or anyone else. You need to rest, slow down, and allow your body to heal.”
With Alexia’s kind questioning, she soon got to the bottom of everything. You had told her about the harshness you had experienced from a young age, the disappointment and anger your parents had expressed during your first season at Barcelona, and the voice in your head telling you to keep pushing. She knew you had a way to go, but with gentle reminders and constant check-ins, you learnt how to quieten the voices. Training became easier, your home was no longer a place to get more workouts in, and you finally stopped listening to the devils in your life and started paying attention to the angels.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And that was all they could hope for.
I hope you enjoyed it. It was kinda short and I don't know if I really like the ending but yeh.
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Text
Forever
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Hi guys!
You were waiting for this one for a long time but it's finally here! This is Luna's elopement fic.
As always, this is a fiction, so it's purely coming from my mind. Please enjoy this one and tell me what you thought about it!
TW : None, I think. Maybe a little of chaos.
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Lucy is tired, like bloody tired. Her and her team just won the cup of the Champions League yesterday and she’s still hungover from the party last night. She regretted bitterly her choice of drink this morning when the alarm went on, asking her to get up to get on the bus and then the plane. They had to be in Barcelona in the afternoon to present the cup at all the Cùlers and for some random talking with people in suit.
She’s not as hungover as Cata though, the woman practically snoring during the ceremony, much to her friends’ amusement.
To distract herself during the speeches that she finds rather annoying, Lucy is looking at her girlfriend. Standing right in front of her, Ona seems to be listening for the people who don’t know her, but Lucy knows better. Ona’s eyes are a little off, but Lucy can’t say if it’s because she’s bored or because she’s in pain.
The cuts she had because of her fall on their opponent’s boot is sharp, she needed three stitches on her cheek. The other one is way to close to her eyes to do anything. Lucy feels the bile running up her throat every time she remembers that her girlfriend could have lost an eye that night.
The English woman frowns when she sees Ona rubbing her injured eye, the scarring itching terribly. But the team’s doctors clearly specified that Ona should touch her eye as little as possible for a quick and optimal recovery.
“Ona” Lucy gently scolds her.
The younger pouts and crosses her arms on her breast, making Lucy smiles softly. She can’t wait to go home, find their dogs and sleep for the next three days before she has to go to national camp in England.
Thanks God they stop soon to talk, and Lucy is relieved to be able to go home. She even grabs Ona’s bags and push her in the direction of her car when they are released. Ona laughs slightly but let her do, looking for her keys in her pocket while Lucy puts their bag in the car.
“What do you think you're doing, Batlle?” Lucy tsk her when Ona sits behind the wheel.
“Going home?” Ona frowns.
“Get out of here. I’m the one driving, you almost lost an eye.”
“Lucia I can drive.”
Ona is sulking and Lucy rolls her eyes. The Catalan girl is the nicest and sweetest person in the world, but Lucy swears that she never met someone as suborn as her girlfriend. Which she likes very much, even if she sometimes seems to forget that she needs to take care of her.
“Sure Cyclops. Let’s sit on the passenger’s seat yeah?”
Ona frowns harder and try to make her girlfriend changes her mind, but she realizes soon that she doesn’t stand a chance. Lucy usually gets Ona what she wants, but not if she knows that it isn’t good for Ona.
The drive home is long, the journey who is usually thirty minutes is far from being finish and yet they only made several kilometers in one hour and an half.
“You can sleep if you want, Bonita” Lucy says softly at her girlfriend.
Ona was lost in the contemplation of the streets, but she turns her head in Lucy’s direction with a soft smile.
“I know. I prefer enjoying my time with you though. I three days we will be separated again.”
Lucy smiles softly, very carefully stroking Ona’s face. The wound looks better than yesterday but it still seems hurtful. But Ona isn’t the kind of girl to complain about anything.
“You’ll be careful with that beautiful face of yours, yeah?”
Ona hums only. She doesn’t want to have a big, awful and permanent scar on her face, but they don’t really let them be gentle during Spanish camp.
“I asked Alexia to keep an eye on you anyway.”
Ona whines, much to Lucy’s amusement. She knows what she was doing when she asked that to Alexia, their captain will be around Ona during all the camp, probably snapping her hand away every time Ona will want to scratch her face.
“How can you do that to me?” Ona groans.
“I did it because I love you” Lucy smiles, rolling her eyes.
“You definitively don’t love me as much as you say. If it was right, you would never betray me this way.”
“You are so dramatic” Lucy laughs softly.
“All that I’ll retain from this conversation is that I love you more than you love me.”
“That’s not true” Lucy frowns.
“It is. I’m the one who love you the most but that’s ok.”
With a satisfy smile, Ona shrugs before taping Lucy’s hand on her thigh. This discussion is going again and again between them, a childish and sweet fight that none of them want to give up.
“Ok” Lucy says after several seconds of silence. “If you love me so much, marry me.”
There is another moment of silence.
“Qué?”
Ona is looking at her girlfriend with wide eyes, seriously asking herself if Lucy lost her mind. But Lucy is looking at her seriously.
“Are you still drunk?” Ona asks, arching an eyebrow.
“No. I am very serious, Ona. I love you. I know you are the love of my life. You are the one I want to finish my life with, I’ve never be so sure about anything in my whole life. I don’t have a ring, but I’ll change that as soon as possible. I want to marry you.”
This is unreal for Ona. Of course, she already thought about marrying Lucy one day, because she’s sure that Lucy is the love of her life too. Lucy flipped her life upside down, in the best way possible. The situation is unreal, but the answer she gives seems to be as much.
“Ok”
“Yes? Will you marry me?”
“Yes” Ona smiles softly.
Even if this isn’t the most convenient marriage proposal, there still is some tears in Lucy’s eyes. And the smile she gives to Ona makes Ona’s heart fluttered. But then, Lucy is suddenly turning on the road, taking the opposite street of their apartment.
“Lucy what are you doing?”
“We are going to the airport, taking the next plane for Las Vegas. I want to marry you right now.”
“What? But Lucy the dogs? Our parents are going to kill us!”
“Coco and Narla can stay a little longer to your parents. And we will make a ceremony with everyone in several days. I just don’t want to pass another day without you being called my wife.”
The tender smile Ona gives her talk for her. She wrote to her parents to ask them to keep the dogs a little bit longer, explaining that Lucy and her are taking surprised holidays. She doesn’t say why and where though.
While Lucy is looking for a place on the parking, Ona is looking at the first plane leaving for Las Vegas. She managed to find one leaving in five hours, choosing to be in business class, after all they are getting married, right? They let their suitcases from the game in the car, choosing to buy new clothes in the airport. And because they are in business class, they have the lounge and the possibility to take a shower before landing.
Their seats are next to each other on the plane, but when they are on the sky, Ona chooses to escalate the wall between them to sit next to Lucy. Well, on Lucy. In the darkness of the plane and night, they cannot be seen from anyone, not that their embrace has anything looking like Pegi 18 anyway. Lucy just had passed her hand under Ona’s shirt to stroke her back and they are under a cover.
“Lucy?” whispers Ona.
It’s dark and quiet, people around them are sleeping or watching a movie from the television in front of them.
“What is it, Bonita?” Lucy whispers in answer.
“Are you sure you want to do this? We still can enjoy our time in Las Vegas, we are not forced to get married if you want to change your mind.”
“Are you scared?” Lucy smiles.
“No” Ona answers, putting her head again on Lucy’s shoulder. “I’m only scared that you will regret it the next morning.”
“Never.”
To add power to her answer, Lucy squeezes her harder against her, making Ona smile. She then kisses her hair, even if the shampoo she used isn’t the same one she’s using daily. Her natural scent is still here though, Lucy loves to think that Ona smell like sun, sand, and holidays.
Lucy smiles when she sees Ona yawning, the last days were chaotic. They were great, but very tiring and they haven’t many times to rest. They sleep a lot during the long trip, catching their lake of sleep, before landing to Philadelphia to take another plane.
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“People are wondering where we are going” Ona smiles while looking at her messages during their stopover to Philadelphia.
“Tell them Lesbos Island” Lucy answer, looking at Ona’s phone above her shoulder.
Ona rolls her eyes and bite in the croissant she received during the journey. It’s not as good as the one she had in France, but still ok for an empty stomach.
“People are going to be wild when they’ll know” Lucy adds soon after. “How do you think we can say it to them?”
“If we want to keep the clichés, we can send them a picture of us next to a fake Elvis.”
********
They arrive at Las Vegas after several more hours, choosing one of the most expensive suites in the hotel Ona likes the most – The Venetian. Even if the younger one tried to protest, Lucy makes her shut with only one gaze.
“This is wild” Ona mumbles, looking at the view they have from it.
They are on the 36th floor and can see almost everything around. She lost herself in the contemplation of the streets and the lights, while Lucy is busy turning of the air conditioning who is always making her sick, after what she says.
She then takes several seconds to look at Ona, who turned her back at her. She’s smiling while looking at the smaller one. Even if it’s look like a whim, she knows what she’s doing. She was thinking about proposing to Ona for several weeks now, she wanted to do things right with a sweet proposal and everything. She still can make the surprise to Ona when she got the ring.
She is so in love with Ona.
She is so in love and is going to marry her.
It’s sometimes scary for Lucy to admit to herself how much her happiness depends of that wonderful and beautiful girl in front of her. She doesn’t understand how someone like Ona can be interested in her.
Sure, Lucy knows that a lot of people fancy her, she’s not stupid. But she’s older than Ona and she won’t be able to play football for as long as Ona would. But when she talked about it to Ona, the younger girl just smirk and answer that she would like this has a lot of time to choose her clothes for her wagging era.
Feeling a rush of love for the girl in front of her, Lucy breaks the distance between them in three big strides, before embracing Ona from behind.
“What if you’re the one regretting this tomorrow?” Lucy asks quietly, for once letting out some form of vulnerability.
“I won’t” Ona answers.
Her tone is so sure that there is no reason for Lucy to doubt about it. Ona turns around in Lucy’s arms, passing hers around Lucy’s neck.
“T'estimaré per tota la vida” she whispers, before kissing Lucy softly. (I’ll love you for all my life)
Lucy’s progresses in Catalan are prodigious, thanks to her personal teacher, which allows her to easily understand what Ona has just whispered against her lips. She doesn’t have time to answer though, carried away by the extent of Ona’s kiss.
“Is it a way not to leave this room and not to get married, miss Batlle?”
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“I can’t believe we’ve done it” Ona mumbles, looking at the pictures on her phone.
They are on their way back to Barcelona, after a stop at Dallas this time. They haven’t said anything to anyone about their marriage, like Lucy said, they will make a ceremony for their families and Lucy even planned a way to offer a magic proposal to Ona with the ring she will find in Barcelona.
She looked for jewelry in Barcelona when Ona fell asleep in her arms after having celebrated their wedding.
“Still no regret?” Lucy whispers, looking at Ona’s phone above the armrest between them.
“Never.”
A sweet smile is on Ona’s face when she looks at her girlfr… wife. Even if they have to make the contract acknowledged in Spain. They are travelling during the day this time and people are obviously more up than during the first fly. Lucy sulks when she realizes that Ona won’t be able to join her on her seat like before, but then Ona grabs her hand and never let it go since. She can live with that.
“I always thought that the big Elvis' was a myth to be honest” Lucy comments when she sees the photo where they are posing next to him. “It was like a movie.”
“Yeah. I liked that movie though; the first actress is hot” Ona smirks.
“The Spaniard with the scar? Yes. Hot and badass.”
********
When Lucy’s back from the England Camp, Ona had the time to make their marriage contract recognized. She went back home from the camp after deciding that it was better for her face that way. She was sad not to be able to play with Leila again, but it was safer that way. She went to training with Patri and Mapi and passed time with Narla and Coco.
She went to take Lucy from the airport and Lucy already started to look for the right ring. She looked for several days before making the choice to have it custom-made. Lucy wants it to be perfect.
They managed to keep the secret for now, the only difference is that Lucy calls Ona “Wifey” at home now and that they can’t keep their hands away of each other. They are not making out in public, but they are impossible to separate. And when they are on each side of one room, they keep look and smile at each other.
“Can you please stay focus and stop drooling on Ona for a second, Bronze?” Mariona asks, hitting Lucy behind her head.
“I’m not drooling” Lucy frowns, showing Mariona away.
“You are” Mariona laughs.
But then Mario’s laugh drags Ona’s attention – who was talking with Salma and Jana - and she smirks at Lucy who kind of forgot why she’s supposed to be mad at her friend. The calm of the room is suddenly broken by a roar coming from Alexia’s voice as soon as she enters it.
“LUCIA ROBERTA TOUGH BRONZE!”
Lucy jumps and look at their captain like a teenager in trouble without knowing what she did bad. But the blonde came right in front of Lucy with a paper, the room suddenly quiet.
Lucy gets pale when she sees the sheet and Ona doesn't need longer explanations to understand what it is. However, Alexia doesn't hesitate to give more details.
“I was helping the administrative team to make the papers for our next trip, and they told me about this funny mistake, like they said. I did my research and it’s look like it isn’t actually a mistake. So will you please tell me why and how in the world it is written black on white that you are married to Ona Batlle Pascual?”
Ona makes a grimace when she feels almost all the eyes on the room going on her. It isn’t the way she wanted to tell people, but she can see Mapi from the corner of her eyes who seems to have the time of her life.
“You choose Lucy, Oni? What about us?” Jana jokes, but she is suddenly silent when she crosses Alexia’s eyes.
“Come on Ale’, what was I supposed to do? Ask you before asking her?” Lucy rolls her eyes.
“Well at least. Then I would have refused and took Ona on a secret island” Alexia groans.
“Your kids are growing up, Alexia, get over it” Irene says, patting Alexia shoulders. “Ask Pina about her love life, you’ll be stunned” she adds, before leaving the room.
“WHAT?!”
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swayziiwriter · 1 year
Text
Tangled Emotions | Pedri González
summary: for some jealousy isn’t a good look on a man, a torturous feeling. But for Pedri? He looked good anyway. Mostly on top of you.
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WARNING: 18+, sexual content
NOTE: we won’t get to see him play for a few weeks because of injuries so thought i’d cheer everyone up with a chapter for him
Your cunt was dripping with lewdness from Pedri’s constant attack, the bedroom was loud with the sound of skin slapping and heavy moans. The white juices that leaked from both your and Pedri trickled onto your white sheets, staining the light material. Your pussy was throbbing at the consistent effect of Pedri’s cock. His large hand often going down to slap your ass, kneading and running his palm against it.
"Mierda eres tan jodidamente apretado" Shit you're so fucking tight Pedri moaned, his head tossed back, his right hand grasping your hair, and his left hand clutching your hips. Your body canvassed in bruises brought about by the one who had you twisted and tangled.
Your hands moved unsteadily attempting to keep yourself up. Pedri manhandled your body, inflicting pleasure upon every inch. “So good for me baby, your doing so good” Pedri praised, smiling to himself at your compliance. You were unable to see his sweat-soaked body behind you as he stroked your hips. He let go of your hair and got your neck from behind, his shirtless chest contacting your back. It was to much. “Pedri I can’t-can’t take anymore” you cried unsure.
He leaned in your direction. “I know you can take it, begging for my cock like the slut you are but cry when you get it-“ you clenched your pussy that was wrapped tightly around his member at his words. “fuck you just braced around me” He moaned as he let go of your neck and put his left hand on your left cheek. He swiftly slapped your cheek, then caressed it slowly. You shouted in torment as your walls got more tight around his pulsating cock.
"Pedri, ah-ah Pedri” you groaned as Pedri kept his body near your back, leaving indentations around your shoulder. He knew how to quiet you down; he realized you maintained that him should relinquish his displeasure on your delightful body. He moaned as he continued to push into your opening. Your legs started to shake from the sensation of strain on your lower body. You pushed your thighs together, attempting to keep awake, and your arms were battling to keep you up.
"Your close, I can feel this pussy getting tighter” He let out a low chuckle as he felt himself getting closer to you as you whimper. His muscles fixed, pummeling himself in your lecherous set opening that made such a scurrilous clamor at whatever point he pulled out and hammered himself back in your core. He expected to screw you stupid until the sun came up again, hours and hours. Oh fuck
He knew your body, fucked you harder than ever before, and he could feel your legs trembling. Within seconds, your arms gave out and you crashed into the pillow that laid messy on your bed. He let go inside of your tight hole, ropes of cum spurting rapidly before spilling out of you. Only to then  plummel himself back in brutally.
Your tongue was out as clearly groans got away from your lips, your pussy leaked out hot, sticky fluid Pedri moaned to the feeling of your tight hole throbbing around him. Pedri continued to drill into your core, whispering Spanish tongued words to himself that could only be explained as filthy praises.
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writing--whore · 1 year
Text
Smoking Hot
Pairing: Luis Serra x Reader
Summary: Getting high with Luis somehow divulges into you getting tied up and fucked hard 😩🍃
Word count: 2k
Warnings: drugz, unprotected sex (don't do that irl plz n thank you)
Contains: shibari/bondage, electric wand, orgasm denial (you get to cum in the end dw), edging i guess, piv smut, getting fucked from behind, dom/sub dynamic, strength kink?, cheeky bit of praise kink
A/N: I deeply apologise for how bad the title is asdfsgdgfd
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Luis’ fingers brushed against your bare skin as he wrapped the rope tightly around your limbs. He worked painfully slowly, methodically ensuring the rope was positioned perfectly, pulling your hands taught behind your back. Of course he was an expert in shibari, of course he was. This man was fucking perfect and he was going to be the death of you. The rope was tied around your shoulders, snaking around your upper arms, tying together just below your elbows and around your wrists. The rough cords were so beautifully tight. There was something so fucking hot about being bare naked while he tied you up fully clothed. 
When he pulled away, you struggled against the restraints to test if there was any give. There was none. God, to be so entirely powerless against him sent a pool of wetness between your legs. Well, in honesty, you were entirely powerless to him anyway, being much smaller and weaker than him, but the ropes made it impossible to even fight back. You were all his for the taking. 
He chuckled upon seeing you struggle. “You’re not getting out of that, mi princessa.” 
You were mentally screaming at how hot it was when he dominated you. Smoking weed with Luis was a dangerous game. One minute you were watching Netflix with him on the sofa, sharing a joint. The next, you were sitting on his lap, playing with the chest hair that peaked out of his shirt, practically melting into the warmth of his body. The combination of weed and Luis made you so damn submissive. The next thing you know, you’re being carried to the bedroom and placed on your knees. 
Luis re-positions your legs so he can tie your shins to your thighs in long spiralling cords. The feeling of slowly being restrained while high af was absolutely blissful. With each passing second, your freedom of movement was being taken away from you. With each second, you got to revel in the feeling of rope passing over your sensitive skin, and the occasional graze of Luis’ soft digits. 
Once both of your legs were secured, he pulled away and admired his handiwork. “There’s definitely no getting out of that one.”
You moved your legs to double check but he wasn’t wrong. Adrenaline pooled in your stomach at the thought of being entirely powerless. It was such a thrill to be at the mercy of your boyfriend, who you trusted entirely. 
Luis picked the remnants of the joint up from the bedside table and lit it. Leaning against the wall, he blew out the smoke before taking another puff. You felt like you could drool at how handsome he was. 
He strode over to you, dripping with confidence, and crouched down. He took your face in his hands and placed his mouth against yours as he blew smoke down your throat. 
“Inhale.” He commanded, his beautiful face pulling back mere inches away from your own. 
Absolutely giddy, you did as you were told and gently blew it back in his face. 
“Good girl.” He praised. 
If you weren’t restrained, you were certain you would have melted into a puddle on the floor. His husky voice paired with his Spanish accent was murderous.
He inhaled once more and again, pressed his lips against your own to get you even more high. This time, he lingered, devouring your lips as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You were a moaning mess and you tried to push your lips harder against his own, needing more of him. 
His hand made a fist in your hair and you whimpered pathetically, earning a chuckle that made you shiver. 
He pulled away and you were left feeling desperate for his body heat to return. You watched with bated breath as he delved into your box of sex toys and pulled out a wand vibrator. For as much as you enjoyed that toy, you were so desperate for his cock. 
“Luis, please fuck me. Please, I don’t need any prep.”
You were already so wet that you were worried you were making a stain on the floor. 
“You need to learn a lesson in patience, mi corazón .” He retorted, evil glinting in his eyes.
You bit back a whine as he pressed the vibrator on and ghosted it against your clit. Sparks erupted in your body and you bucked your hips up as much as your restraints would allow. Luis swiftly impeded you by placing his spare hand on your thigh. 
He’d barely even started and it was already tortuous. The vibrations were so slow and gentle and you needed so so much more. 
“Oh god, Luis, please.” You begged.
“All in good time.” He replied, lifting the wand away so it was barely touching you then placing it back again. 
You were so giddy, not just from the weed, but with how goddamn needy this was making you. You could barely think straight, all you knew was you needed more. 
“Please, please.” You continued to beg, each repetition of the word growing more strained. 
He continued to place it against you before pulling away and then replacing it again. Somehow, the feather light touches were managing to get you close. So you tried to relax into it, trusting that Luis would give you what you wanted. The pleasure felt like it was spreading through your whole body, mostly it went to your head, making you dizzy and clouding your thoughts with lust. Your whole attention was honed in on the subdued but electric pleasure that pulsed against your clit. 
The blissful feeling of an orgasm was slowly approaching. You tipped your head back and spread your legs as wide as you could move them. You took a deep breath in and a small smile played across your lips, welcoming the approach of it. All of your nerves were on fire as the coil wound in your abdomen, about to be set free. 
But then he removed the wand, powering it down with no hope of it returning again.
Your pleasure shattered around you. Your whole world had been concentrated on that orgasm and it was so cruelly snatched from you, leaving you with nothing but a puffy clit and your whole body tingling. 
“Luis.” You called his name with raw desperation. You couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t allow you to cum. “I’ve been so good, haven’t I been good?”
“Aye, you’ve been so good, mi princessa.” He stroked your hair and you leaned into his touch. “Your reward will come in due time. You will have to wait. You can do that for me, sí?”
Your orgasm dwindled away from you and you were worried about how long exactly you would have to wait to reap your reward. But you nodded obediently. 
“Excellent.” He replied, coming behind you and hooking his arms beneath you to lift you up. 
You yelped at the suddenness of his actions, the noise quickly muffled when you were placed face down in the sheets. You heard his zipper open and you instantly perked up. Maybe your reward wouldn’t take too long after all.
His hard length pressed against your backside before he guided it to glide between your folds. This man was such a fucking tease. You knew how big his dick was, how it filled you perfectly, and you were so hungry for it. You couldn’t buck your hips into him from this position. You couldn’t even beg without your words being rendered inaudible by the bed sheets. He just kept on rubbing himself up and down your slit, bringing you to the brink of insanity. 
Just when you thought you would genuinely lose your mind, he pushed all the way in. A breathy moan escaped your mouth. His large size made you deliciously full even though he wasn’t able to enter you fully in this position. 
He started off slowly, entering you as far as he could and then pulling all of the way out again. Your body shook with how painfully slow he was going. You could feel every bulging vein on his dick as it filled you up and left you empty again. You could kill him. He knew exactly what to do to push you to your limit, to make you intoxicatedly cock starved. 
And so he continued at this pace, leaving you a wet and whimpering mess every time he pulled out, leaving your vagina to clench around nothing. 
“Does my baby want more?” He cooed.
“Yhmp plemphh.” You mumbled your affirmative into the bed sheets. 
“Your wish is my command.”
His hands dug into your hips and effortlessly lifted your lower half off the bed so he had better access to your hole. You never got tired of his strength, of how easily he lifted you like a ragdoll that weighed nothing.
He rammed into you at a brutal pace that had you crying out with every thrust. That man had insane hip strength. He bashed against your cervix each time, causing your whole body to spasm against the restraints. 
Your orgasm was hurtling back towards you so fast you were already seeing stars. Your moans didn’t even sound like moans anymore, it seemed more like you were speaking in tongues. His dick curved up into you so perfectly, filling you up and hitting all those spots that sent fireworks shooting through your body. You started to clench around him, alerting him of your nearing release. 
“Don’t cum until I tell you to.” He ordered.
“Hnnnnnng???” 
He had no idea what you said but from your sharp, whiney pitch, he could tell you weren’t pleased by the demand. Truthfully, you had no idea if it was humanly possible for you to hold off from cumming. The pleasure winding up inside of you felt like it was going to burst at any moment. And the fucker was unrelenting, his thrusts growing even more merciless, slapping into you at a pace that filled the room with the sound of skin on skin and the most unholy squelching noise. 
Your moaning grew louder and your nails dug into your palms as you tried to hold your orgasm in. 
“Just a bit longer, you’re doing so well for me.” 
The praise caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach, sending you even more dangerously close to the edge. 
Luis’ breathing was becoming laboured. He let out small throaty moans that somehow carried his accent. 
“Oh mierda.” He exclaimed, impossibly speeding up his thrusts even more.
Your mouth hung open as strings of sinful noises were ripped from your throat. You genuinely could not think to save your life. Burning jolts of pleasure wracked through your body every time he slammed into you.  
He finally instructed, “Cum for me, princessa.” 
His fingers curled bruisingly into your hips as he jackhammered against your g-spot and you didn’t think anything in the world could stop you from cumming now. You practically screamed, every muscle taught and spasming as your orgasm was finally set free. You felt him cum inside of you; long hot cords of white splashed against your walls, sending a full body shiver coursing through you. 
With a shuddering sigh, Luis pulled out and staggered over to pepper kisses to the back of your head.
“Are you okay, baby?” He asked as he began to un-tie you.
You were silent for a second as you came down from your cock drunk high and could remember how to form sentences again. 
Letting out a contended sigh, you replied, “No one has ever even come close to being able to fuck me like how you fuck me.” You stretched your aching arms above your head. “Come cuddle me?”
He chucked the ropes onto the floor and lay on the bed for you to curl up in his arms. He was so pleasantly warm and you felt like a floppy mess as he held you close.
You murmured into his neck, “I love you so much, Luis. Promise me it’ll be like this for the rest of our lives.”
You sat up to look into his charcoal eyes.
There was not a single hint of a lie when he responded, “I promise.”
~~~
A gentle note that I am taking commissions if anyone is interested. No worries if not uwu
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rrenzwrld · 1 year
Text
mama’s baby, daddy’s maybe
in which connie is a famous basketball player who has a secret baby with his best friend
this is part 6! the second to last part to mbdm :( and it’s kinda long bc it switches povs.. sorry y’all! but anyways, hope you enjoy! read the 5th part here and here, read part 4 here!
tags; @beautifulalienslimecroissant @neptunes1nterweb @yourrfavzxri @iikatsukii
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After the outing, Connie and I had gotten closer in the following weeks. As busy as he was as the nation’s athlete, he still had enough time to set aside for me and Celest. The only reason he probably didn’t mind spending time with the baby was because she came along with me. It got to the point where it looked like he was growing attached and as far as he knew, he wasn’t her father. He thought he was just stepping in as an outside source.
Today I had took off for a doctor’s appointment for Celest where she’d be getting shots. I talked to Connie that morning and my plans slipped up so I should’ve known he would’ve wanted to go with me.
“But don’t you have a game?” I wedged my phone between my ear and neck as I buckled in a busy Celest.
“Yeah but that’s not until 7. Y’know, I just wanna be there for support.” At first glance, I didn’t see nothing wrong with it until I considered the situation again. Plus the fact that he was a celebrity and could be recognized going to a pediatrician with a random lady and her baby.
“I guess.. you gon meet me there?”
“Yeah just send me the address. I’ll get there before you anyways.”
I scoffed. “Boy you better not be tryna speed through these streets. I can’t afford your bail.”
“You won’t need to. Imma call you when I get there.” And with that we said our goodbyes and hung up before I started on my way.
And Connie was in fact there before me.
“Told you.” He smirked, making fun of the fact that I didn’t believe him. Celest was starting to fall asleep again on my shoulder but once she saw Connie, she woke up immediately.
He took his shades off as Celest wiggled out my arms to run into his. “At least someone’s happy to see me. Estrellita!” He calls her Estrellita, which means little star in spanish as I’ve been told and that’s interesting because the inspiration for her name came from his.. Constance. His name always reminded me of the stars and how beautiful they were as constellations on some nights, which is what I saw every time I looked at him and now see every time I look at my baby. I really need to find a way on how to break the news to him.
Once we got in and we’re now waiting for the lady to come in.
“Y’know you didn’t have to come, right? You probably had something else to do.”
Connie shook his head as he held onto Celest in his lap. “Nah, I like spending time with yall. Especially this lil girl.” He tickled her sides, which made her squirm.
I didn’t know what I was thinking to prompt me to say what was next. “Actually Connie, there’s—“ but luckily the pediatrician came just in time
She greeted us as she walked in and was surprised to see Connie in the chair because normally it’s just Celest and I.
She looked at me and then looked at Connie and Celest. “Are you dad?” My eyes widened. He was dad but he didn’t know he was dad. All Connie did was laugh because I could see that he didn’t know how to react.
“Nah, um… just a friend.”
“Oh!” She laughed. “You and the baby look so much alike I thought you were dad.” Connie slowly turned his head to look at me and I slowly turned my head in the opposite direction.
“Just probably been around her for too long.” The pediatrician started somehow laughing harder than before. I wanted to leave now for a multitude of reasons. But once I finished talking to her about Celest and the type of shots she’d be given today, everything was almost over.
“Does she like shots?” Connie leaned over to me after the pediatrician left to get the supplies for the shots.
I laughed a bit. “Who likes to get shots?” He rolled his eyes.
“I’m sayin does she cry and stuff?”
“She’ll cry but only for a lil bit. I got her if you can’t—“
“Nah, she cool. I got her.” The cart rolled in and Celest started to whine and get antsy. I hated when she’d get shots because I’d always cry with her, but it helped when Connie was here.
The first looked to be the most painful for her but she didn’t cry all that much but that was probably because Connie held onto her so tightly, making sure she wouldn’t wiggle around. After the first, the second floor one came and went so it was over by this point and Celest’s little thighs were decorated with pretty pink butterfly bandaids.
“See?” The pediatrician began putting the stuff away. “Wasn’t that bad, right?” She tickled at Celest’s tummy and of course she laughed even through her teary eyes. Connie on the other hand, looked like he was fighting back tears himself.
When we left, Connie had put his shades back on as he walked to my car to buckle Celest in.
“Thank you for coming Connie, I appreciated your… support.”
“Anytime.. you coming to the game later?” I didn’t know if I wanted to go through that hassle again. “I’ll find a way to get yall in—“
“It’s okay, we’ll just watch you on tv.”
He raised a brow. “You sure? Don’t wanna be there for the real thing?”
He made me giggle like a high school girl. “I have the real thing right here. And plus, Cee will watch you better at home anyways.”
“Alrighty pretty girl.. you better be watching.”
“Or what?” He was close enough to rattle the fluttering in my stomach. He stood in front of me for a while, gently biting on his lips but I couldn’t see his eyes because they were hidden.
He scoffed. “You’ll find out,” He pecked me on my cheek. “Bye, love you!” Before quickly getting into his car and speeding off. ‘Love you..?’
(📞switching sides) CONNIE
After the game, all I could think about was the events of today and what the pediatrician lady said. My mind was so set on that, I didn’t even go to the club like the team would always do after winning a game to celebrate. Everyone went to the club that night except for Onyankopon. Him and I were the closest on the team and he’s always had my back through everything since joining the team. When I was first starting out in the pro world, he was the one who didn’t mind helping me out. He was only a few years older than me but he was like a brother.
Instead of going to the club, we went to Jean’s house to hang out with him and Sasha. We had a few drinks and played a few games and even though it’s minimal, having the time to wind down with them was always enjoyable.
They knew all about my time with Celest and Chy’anne but they haven’t really asked any questions about them until now, which was strange. I even told them about today at the pediatrician’s and what I was feeling with that, thinking they’d just brush me off to talk about something else but…
“So she asked if you were the dad because you and the baby look alike?” Jean basically repeated what I told him.
“Yeah and I told her that I was Chy’anne’s friend—“
“Y’know she wouldn’t just ask something like that for no reason, right?” He had a point but I assumed he was bullshitting.
I narrowed my eyes at him “What you tryna say?”
“You got a picture of the baby?”
“Whoa—“
“Shut up,” He snapped at Sasha while reaching out for my phone. “I’m tryna see something..” I brought up a family picture from Chy’anne’s page and handed the phone over.
Once he was looking at the picture, Sasha and Ony leaned over his shoulder to look. Ony kept looking between me and the phone while Sasha covered her mouth with her eyes widened. Their dramatic reactions were making me nervous.
“What?”
“I don’t know if you’re just being dumb on purpose or what but…”
“That baby yours, G.”
“Gimme that shit..” I snatched the phone from Jean’s hands and my heart felt like it was gonna pump out my chest. I glanced at the picture before turning the phone off. “Stop playin with me. That baby look so much like Chy’anne, you can’t even really tell who—“
“Keep telling yourself that~” I don’t know why I felt so worked up if I knew Celest wasn’t mine, right? How could she be?
“A blind person can see that’s your daughter, Connie.”
“Nah, fuck that. Chy’anne wouldn’t do that to me. I know her.”
“Do you?” My eyes met Ony’s. “A person can change a lot in two years.” Again, a point was made but it wasn’t nearly enough to convince me. To me, the idea of her daughter being mine was a crazy idea because I knew the type of person she was and I knew she wouldn’t keep such a thing from me for so long.
“And why do you think she’d do that?” Jean added.
“I don’t know, maybe she was going through some shit or something.”
Jean rolled his eyes. “Obviously, but maybe she had a reason why she hid the baby from you.”
I had to laugh a lil bit because it was getting ridiculous now. To the point where I might have started feeling paranoid. “I’m telling you, that’s not my baby. Love her to death but she’s not mine to claim. If she was really my child, I’m sure I’d know about it by now.”
Jean sighed like he was frustrated that I wasn’t believing them. I chose not to believe them because I know how I’d feel if that really was the case and I just didn’t wanna face my feelings if that was a possibility.
“What happened two years ago?” I didn’t know why Jean was asking a question he knew the answer to.
“You know what happened—“
“Wait what happened two years ago?” Ony stopped me. “You just told me you and the girl were friends, you didn’t tell me y’all had history and shit.”
“Basically,” I dreaded telling this story again so I just summed it up. “Her and I were real close. Best friends since diapers and she’s always supported me because I played ball but she stopped talking to me right before I was drafted. Haven’t talked for two years since then until now.”
“Damn.”
“You’re missing something, Connie.” Sasha spoke up but I was confused.
“How you gonna tell me what I’m missing in my story?” Jean and Sasha exchanged looks. My mind was searching for what they were trying to remind me until I finally realized it all in a few seconds. It was like everything came rushing back all at one time. I then recognized the event as the night that changed everything. I guess I had completely shut down because someone had to get my attention a few times.
“You remember now?”
I nodded and tried swallowing the dry knot in my throat. “Yeah, we had sex. Right before I was getting ready to go to California. I remember it being an issue because we were friends until.. we did that. And then her sister told me she was sick and stuff but I didn’t pay attention to it at the time.”
“And maybe, just maybe,” Jean raised his hands. “She was sick because she was just finding out she was pregnant.” Now that I remembered everything, what Jean said made sense and I’d only find out the real truth if I asked her up front.
“Okay but, why would she keep a whole baby from me for two years? Why would she do that to me?” Anger, frustration, confusion and everything in between started to rise inside of me but I tried brushing it off. Although I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, the fact that we potentially had a daughter together that I didn’t know about and that I could’ve been there for, made me feel betrayed.
“See, that is what I don’t know. Up to you to figure out.” Sooner or later, that is what I aimed to find the answer to
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she WILL tell him in the next part, i PROMISE😭 and everything will unfold for the lil finale, just stay tuned <3
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bagely · 10 months
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HI! this is a translation of a fanfic I already published in AO3 but, I'm trying to prove myself and write in english, Soo yeah my first lenguaje it's not english is Spanish and because of that this work would have some mistakes 😬 sorry for that I do my best but I'm still just learning, so you can correct me, I would appreciate that.
Oh, and its in Missa's pov
Title: Can I have your number?
Words: 2,009
Ao3 link:
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I walked through the door of the small university café, feeling the warm aroma of coffee fill my senses.
The barista, whose name is Starboby, was very welcoming, and there was nothing strange about her until I saw the bar where someone was preparing coffee with their back turned. I didn't recognize that haircut or the same tone, and I could say that with certainty since I had worked part-time at this place many times before.
«It seems like Roier has hired someone new» I thought, as I didn't recognize any of Roier's blonde friends. There weren't many people in the place, it was still very early. I adjusted my hair, which was longer than usual and a bit uncomfortable.
I walked confidently to the bar, and the barista turned around when she heard my steps and stood in front of me, several meters away. I stopped instantly.
"Oh, I didn't hear you," he said with a warm and cheerful voice while smiling at me. "Do you need anything?"
He was gathering some hair into a ponytail, and her deep blue eyes stirred something within me.
«WHY IS HE SO HANDSOME» I started feeling my heart stop or perhaps start beating so fast that I couldn't measure it myself.
"Uhm... I...just–" I was trying to forced myself to talk. I took a step back and said, "uh... I forgot something... I, uhm... goodbye"
Did I run away or walk very fast? I don't know, the point is that I was already two blocks away from that café. I slap myself.
«Missa, why do you always embarrass yourself? Fool, idiot, idiot...» I wanted to hit myself harder.
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A few days had passed, and I had "forgotten" (or rather ignored to maintain my sanity) that encounter at the café.
Rivers, a classmate, ask me if we want to do some homework together, and since my house was a mess due to my lack of organization, she decided it would be better to go to Starboby, Roier's café at the university. And here I am again, and he is here.
If someone asked me to organize the 5 most embarrassing moments of my life, what happened in this café a few days ago would occupy the top 5 places.
I'm behind my computer while looking at him, hoping he doesn't notice. After half an hour in the place, I only know one thing about him, and that is his name, which is Philza, and I only know that because I noticed the shiny name tag that I didn't see on my first visit.
I want to ask for his number... I would love to be able to get up and approach him, act like a normal person, and just talk to him, but at this point, I'm sure he thinks I'm a weirdo. I am a weirdo, but I don't like to think that he knows it.
"You could ask Roier for his number," Rivers brought one of her pens to my face and started poking my cheek with it insistently.
"And seem like a stalker? No, thanks," I replied in a somewhat annoyed tone because of what she was doing to my face, but I couldn't complain much anyway since I'm a bit behind on our task.
"Sure, you don't want to seem weird to your boyfriend," she started sarcastically, and she moved away from me in her chair while rolling her eyes. "Okay, be subtle and keep staring at him like a crow."
"I'm not...–" I don't even know what I was about to say because my mind freeze when my eyes were caught by his.
«Did he notice?» I felt a bit scared, I immediately looked away, but I heard a slight laugh coming from him. «he got me.» my face is completely red. I couldn't look in his direction for the rest of the afternoon, which was beneficial for Rivers since we were able to finish some work in one day and organize the ones we have left.
I started packing up my things to leave the café, and I felt someone behind me. My body tensed up when I turned around and saw him there. Time felt slow as he handed me a piece of paper. «His number?» That thought made me blush again until I looked down to see the piece of paper he had given me.
"Thank you for coming," he smiled at me, well, at us, Rivers is still here saddly "Again."
I'm sure that last part is for me, but he only gave me a receipt, just a receipt.
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Today the café is a bit more crowded, it's rush hour, so I should have expected it. The line is at least 10 people long, and when it's my turn, I find myself too excited. I'm at the front, and I see him. He smiles at me but turns and moves away behind a door to the back. I'm late.
"Missa, what's up?" Roier is now at the bar, smiling at me as if he had just heard the best joke in the world. "Have you seen my new barista?" The look Roier gave me was so indiscreet that I almost hit him, it's obvious that Rivers told him everything.
I restrain any aggressive impulse that grows within me because if I expose myself more than I already am, I'm sure he won't leave me alone.
"Cold coffee, and remember to sweeten it well... You always make it a bit bitter," I tell him, completely avoiding the topic.
He laughs and turns around to start doing what I asked. I lower my head to the counter where the desserts are, I only came to the place for coffee and to see Phil, but it wouldn't hurt to have a donut anyway, one of the things I wanted to see wasn't there, I need a consolation prize.
"Are you ordering something?" That voice makes my heart skip a beat, and it makes me lift my head to see Philza on the other side of the bar with his ever-present kind and reassuring smile. I could die at that moment and be satisfied. "Didn't he finish his shift? Oh, it doesn't matter, my prayers were answered," I say.
"Yes," I say, perhaps a bit too loud.
"Phil! I see you've met Missa," Roier's joyful voice also stirs my guts, but in an unpleasant way, as I'm sure of what's coming.
"Oh, yeah, I've talked to him before," Philza replied, nodding.
I'm not saying anything, and it's awkward because this conversation is about me, but I can't do it, everything in me prevents me from commenting on what's happening.
"You need to treat him well" Roier speaks again, and I have the urge to run away from there, again. "He's not new here, he's one of our most loyal part-timers. A VIP customer," Roier says.
"Roier, no, don't exaggerate," I finally speak, looking into the brown eyes and begging him with my eyes to shut up for once.
"I see," Philza laughs, I notice how easy it seems to make that man laugh, which defensively doesn't bother me, I would love to hear that laughter for longer. I look at him again, and he returns the gaze. "I'll take good care of him then."
If he continues to be like that, I'll probably have a heart attack and die.
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It's almost the end of autumn, which means it's been a month since I met Philza, and I still haven't asked for his number. But I'm making progress, I'm at the point where I can say a complete sentence without stuttering. Anyway, I'm sure he thinks I'm weird because that's the only part of my personality that I've shown him throughout this month.
I'm at the café again, but I'm smart and learn from my mistakes. I don't go to the café during hours when I'm sure Roier will be there. I made that mistake twice, the last time was last week, and the man managed to embarrass me by telling Phil about all my mistakes when I was a rookie.
I'm not hiding behind my laptop this time; I'm "reading" a book. I read on the internet that people who look intelligent are more attractive, and I must use everything I can to my advantage.
Although I haven't talked to him much, I now know a few more things about Phil than just his name. For example, he's 25 years old, which means he's only three years older than me, and apparently, he knows Roier from his boyfriend, and knowing Cellbit's great social skills, he's probably a classmate or a fellow student.
Among the little things I know, I also managed to ask him if he's dating someone in the most discreet way possible, which means I told Rivers to ask him, and I was next to her to listen, and miraculously, the answer was no. I had never felt luckier in my life. I think I almost screamed when I found out, almost because I managed to maintain my composure as much as I could.
"Are you going to order something?" His voice, his terribly charming voice, snapped me out of my thoughts. I didn't realize when he had approached me, placing his hand on the table in front of me.
«Your number» I didn't say it. I wish I had said it. Damn it.
"I'm... I'm fine, you know, just chill.. yeah.." I said, and I'm sure that every word coming out of my mouth It's getting worse and worse.
"Right " He said, and I felt something strange inside me when he sighed after speaking.
Phil seems very committed to his work, he always comes to ask me if I need anything, even if there are several people around. It's very admirable.
He's about to lift his hand from the table and walk away, but I don't want him to. There's no one else here, and a force that I hadn't felt all month pulls my hand, tugging at the sleeve of his white shirt, back to the table.
I turn to look at him, and that momentary force leaves my body.
"Yes?" He asks with a lopsided smile that suits him torturously well.
My eyes sink to the ground. I can only see his shoes and mine.
"Uh could you...uhm" I'm sure I must look like an elf, with my ears burning from the amount of embarrassment I feel. "Can I have your number?" Somehow, that sentence came out in full.
"I already gave it to you."
"WHAT?" I shout. Because there's no other way to express what was going through my head at that moment. I'm trying and searching through hundreds of memories if that ever happened and I have nothing...
"You threw it in the trash, I thought you had rejected me and now you were just giving me confusing signals." Well, with that, I raised my head, he still looked calm, only with a hint of blush almost imperceptible on his cheeks.
"Who was giving confusing signals to who?" My brain was melted, or maybe I was swapped in the middle of the night into someone else's life because all those things he says don't make sense. "Me rejecting you? I'm not insane."
He laughs, and I feel the atmosphere lighten. "Well, you did it." He speaks through clenched teeth, holding back laughter. "When you were with your friend, I gave it to you on the back of the receipt and you threw it in the trash."
«Idiot, idiot, idiot, WHY DIDN'T I SEE THE BACK?»
"I... I didn't see it." His hand goes to my cheek, and his face begins to approach.
«Am I dreaming?» I'm completely paralyzed.
He lightly taps his forehead against mine and then takes a few steps back, but I stand up so we're still close. He takes my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine.
"Dumb" He says to me in that charming tone of voice that I'm sure I'll never get tired of.
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wilhelm--fink · 2 years
Text
Rammstein Meet and Greet in Mexico City 10/02/22
Yesterday I had the wonderful opportunity of meeting four of the rammboys before their show in Mexico City and thought it’d be nice to share my experience (plus I’ll be able to reread and relive this every day for the rest of my life) ♥️
Get ready for a very long post:
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Oliver:
He was serious but very kind. He came, greeted me quietly, smiled a bit when he heard me greeting him in German, signed my book and then left before we could have our picture taken because Tom (their meet & greet assistant) got distracted by someone and forgot to take it. I have to admit that I freaked a bit about that cause I thought I had missed my opportunity but Tom noticed immediately and asked Oli to come back.
We shot the pic and then I moved to the side to let him pass through but instead of that he stepped really close to me (which ofc made me scream internally) and without saying a word, he took the book from my hands and started flipping through it, then he saw the cover with a really confused face, gave it back to me and left. That’s when I started wondering if the band actually know about the merch they sell cause he looked as if he didn’t know what that was.
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Flake:
He was so happy and cheerful the entire time. He greeted me in English and when I answered in German he gave me a huge smile and switched for the rest of our chat which went a bit like this:
(I handed him the book and he saw the pic I had chosen of him)
Flake: (laughing) „Das bin nicht ich!“ - That’s not me!
Me: „Was meinst du damit? Natürlich bist du das!“ - What do you mean? Of course that’s you!
Flake: (laughing even harder) „Nein, nein. Das gefällt mir nicht, das bin ich nicht“ - No, no. I don’t like that. That’s not me.
Me: „Wer ist es dann?“ - Who is it then?
Flake: (still laughing) „Ich weiß nicht, lass uns nach einem anderen Foto suchen“ - I don’t know, let’s look for another photo.
(We flipped through the pages until he saw one he actually liked)
Flake: „Sieh dir das an, das bin ich“ - Look at that one, that’s me.
(He signed it, we had our photo taken and then he started inspecting the book the same way Oli had)
Flake: (surprised) „Wo kauftest du es?“ - Where did you buy this?
Me: „In dem Rammstein Shop” - In the Rammstein shop
Flake: „Wirklich? Toll! Ich hatte es nicht gesehen! Sowieso, vielen Dank, viel Spaß bei der Show! - Really? Cool! I hadn’t seen it! Anyway, thank you so much, have fun at the show!
Me: „Vielen Dank!“ - Thank you!
Flake: (laughing as he walked away) „Aber das war nicht ich!“ - Still that wasn’t me!
Me: „Das bist du doch!“ - It is you!
After that I think someone asked him about the meaning of his nickname, to which he answered “Flake es flaquito” (“skinny” in Spanish)
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Paul:
He arrived before Flake left and told him, wearing his usual cheeky grin, to speak Berlinerisch Deutsch with us. Then he greeted me in English and laughed really loud when he saw his pic on the book. I asked to hug him, to which he answered „Ja doch!“ (yes, of course!) and gave me a big nice hug (I wished that Tom had taken our photo in that moment but sadly didn’t). Then he wished me fun at the show and left.
After that, a girl showed him a photo of him and Richard kissing and asked him if they’d do it that night, he only laughed and said “We’ll see what happens”.
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Till:
We knew he was coming cause he almost kicked the wall to the ground before coming in. He was super nice the entire time, spoke to everyone in Spanish and joked around a lot. Once he came to me, I totally froze and couldn’t do more than greet him and show him his pic on the book. He noticed my reaction with a smile and was very kind about it, he signed my book and then I somehow managed to ask if I could hug him. He immediately embraced me super tight and then we had our photo taken.
After that I was about to let him go but he held me tighter and started growling loudly. That’s when I finally came to my senses, I looked up to him and laughed but in a second he had already picked me up and was dragging me out of the room. Everyone started screaming and I told him “you can take me with you if you want, I’d be happy to go” to which he laughed, gave me a peck in the head and let me go. Then he took my hand gently and led me back to the group. Finally he shook my hand, made a bow and said it was really nice to meet me.
The meet & greet ended shortly after that and we were led back to the stage area. It’s needless to say that it was the best day of my life.
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atthebell · 9 months
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Why do you think Roier and Missa are easiest to understand? I found the same thing as someone who's just learning Spanish, and I wasnt sure if it was because I've watched so much Roier content that it influenced my ability to understand him, or if there's a deeper reason due to some regional accent differences being easier for non-native speakers to understand. I'm curious about your thoughts since you have really good insights into linguistics, but ignore this if it's too much for tumblr lol!
neither of them talk super fast, and imo their accents are fairly easy to understand-- for me, missa is easy to understand bc he's from the north and that region has accents i'm more familiar with, and roier's accent is somewhat neutral although obviously still clearly mexican and he uses a lot of slang. i think that also helps-- roier uses a lot of the same vocab, so if you're still learning spanish, you can pick up that slang and then understand quite a bit of what he's saying because he swears literally five times in a single sentence. they both speak pretty clearly and, additionally, i think most non-native spanish speakers, especially U.S. americans, are most familiar with mexican spanish rather than other dialects. so that's why someone like rubius or spreen is harder for nonnative speakers to understand, unless they're more familiar with spanish or argentine dialects specifically.
for me it's hard to parse bc i understand most of what they all say regardless since i've spoken spanish for so long, but i think rivers is just difficult because she speaks very fast. mariana is pretty easily to understand as well, there's just less for me to say about him tbh idr where he's from and i don't really have a hard time understanding him, i just watch him less than anyone else really.
for quackity, his accent is more noticeable, and his spanish is a little weirder, in that he is so bilingual and if you're not familiar with that way of speaking it can be hard to pick up what he's saying sometimes. this is partially why i wish there were a few more latino americans on the server so people get more familiar with that type of bilinguality-- i think quackity is in a unique position that he doesn't full share with other server members (aside from mouse, in that she is also a latino who lives in the states, although from a content perspective she doesn't do the same kind of bilingual split that q does nor does she stream in spanish), and i would be interested to see more of that kind of diasporic latino experience on the server. that's me rambling and doesn't have to do with accents i've just been thinking about it for a while and i think it would be cool. but yeah q phrases things funny sometimes because he's thinking of the english way of saying something or vice versa, and he is by far one of the most fluently bilingual members of the server, so it's an interesting dynamic for people watching him who aren't super familiar with spanish nor the kinds of calques and things that end up happening with bilingual speakers.
anyway back to your actual questions i do also think exposure does tip the scales lol most of us watch more roier than anyone else and esp for people just learning spanish, you're gonna understand him better than anyone else because of that. which is nice in some ways bc you learn a lot of slang but also if you're going to speak spanish in any kind of non-casual setting please do not talk like roier he is a fucking crazy person who swears so much it's actually unreal
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jeannereames · 1 year
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Why is it that certain sensationalist trivias, still get peddled by professional historians as absolute truths? Like the Caranus debacle. PG's Alexander of Macedon, despite being an excellent account, still mentions the Caranus + Europa double alleged BBQfication. Even though, the timeline&Caranus' unicorn name, reek of myth? Or Stateira getting long distance impregnated by Darius (though Green suggests in fine print that Alexander raped her). What makes a historical tale more or less credible?
First, I’d caution that we look at when some of these books and articles were written. While the more recent version of Green’s Alexander of Macedon (U. Cal, Berkeley) is 1991, it’s a reprint of his much earlier Thames-and-Hudson bio from 1974, sans pictures. (Also, Green—who’s still alive and kicking!—is 97 this year, so that contextualizes his age.) A general critique of Peter for a while now (as far back as From Alexander to Actium) is that he’s not on top of the more recent publications in the field, which causes some of his conclusions to be dated. Many older scholars can be guilty of that. I can’t even keep up with everything coming out on Alexander and/or Philip and/or Macedonia each year, especially as more and more are in languages I don’t read, such as Italian or Spanish. Even my German is shaky.
OTOH, the proliferation of academic publications in various languages is great, as it signals a healthy field. OTOH, it’s problematic, as most people just don’t read multiple languages, and what languages might have been fashionable back in grad school has shifted since. Additionally, Americans are at a real disadvantage due to our very poor education system here when it comes to learning languages (Spanish aside)—unless one is wealthy enough to attend private schools. And that’s a topic for a different post about elite education in Classics, and the language barrier.
But the upshot is that, while older scholars often gain real breadth of knowledge that allows connections and conclusions younger scholars just can’t make yet, it can become harder to keep up with everything coming out, on top of teaching and service requirements at universities. I’d love to have more time to read the latest—but I can’t and get all my student papers graded, attend all the meetings I have to go to, prep new classes, learn online platforms, etc., etc.
One reason we try to protect pre-tenure faculty from undue service IS so they can write/publish (and do the reading required). Post-tenure, All That Other Stuff starts demanding our time. Way back in grad school, Gene Borza told me, “You will never have read so widely and know as much about a particular slice of the field than you do right now.” I thought he was joking. I know a lot more now than I knew then, to be sure—but feel perpetually behind on recent research.
Anyway, I mention the publication date because history is an ever-developing field. We can talk about Alexander studies as a series of “waves,” if you will. The initial wave viewed Alexander very positively, starting with Droysen (late 1800s), through Tarn, Burns, Milns, Robinson, some others, down into the 1960s and early ‘70s. Hammond was kinda the last of them, who published well into the ‘90s, also arguably Hamilton (although I see him as less forgiving). But this was the Great Man approach. Sources were taken mostly at face value, including Greek views of the Macedonians, with a distinct taste for colonialist narratives such as Plutarch (the Greek “civilizing” of the Barbarian East, etc.). Hammond, however, was among those who seriously questioned Greek views of Macedonians…even while he accepted other things uncritically.
So, in short, these are not absolutely separate buckets. Just general trends.
The next wave brought the Skeptics, engendered by Badian, Schachermeyer, Fredericksmeyer, Green, etc. It still had a fair bit of unconscious colonialist (and misogynistic) taint but began to do much more rigorous source criticism. Maybe ol’ Alexander wasn’t so great, after all. I think of Ian Worthington as still in that vein—Hammond’s flip side. Ha. (Which is funny as Ian edited Nick’s festschrift [a collection of papers in honor of a person]. But Hammond was a legend in his lifetime. Regardless of whether one agrees with everything he wrote, his impact on Macedonian history simply can’t be overestimated. I don’t think anybody, ever again, will [or can] have that sort of influence, given how the field has grown.)
Anyway, around the same time, Macedonian studies (and Philip) were opening as a field in their own right, thanks to Edson and Dell—and Hammond—followed by Borza, Errington, Ellis, Cawkwell, Walbank (Hellenistic), and Greeks like Hatzopoulos and Palagia, then Greenwalt, Anson, Adams, Heckel, Carney, Baynham, Atkinson, etc.
(I’m leaving out names, I’m sure, as I’m doing this on the fly without my library at hand, so apologies.)
Anyway, these things dovetailed to give us some new perspectives, including an attempt to detangle Macedonia from S. Greece, and to spot the misogyny behind texts (thank you, Carney and MacCurdy, et al.), and generally to think further about matters of culture and textual context.
I was a grad student at the back end of that wave, btw.
The “new”(-ish) wave(s?) have been to further contextualize our sources, not just to separate Greek from Macedonian, or to seek the sources behind our extant biographies, but to better recognize the Roman (imperial) overlay. It’s not that earlier historians didn’t know our existing sources were Roman era, but that the focus had been on trying to determine the sources behind our surviving sources: e.g., Kallisthenes, Kleitarchos, Ptolemy, Aristobulos, etc. Lionel Pearson’s The Lost Historians of Alexander the Great was the classic text of that type. What Pearson (and others) did less was talk about contemporary (Roman) influences on our surviving authors.
This new wave includes scholars like Asirvatham, Müller, Ogden, Bowden, Spencer, Pownall, Howe, Finn, etc., etc. There’s also good work being done on military stuff, following Heckel. They’re very much into the textual evidence. Also Carney still, and Baynham. So these are new trends in Alexander historiography.
A feature of this third/fourth wave has been to pick apart some heretofore accepted stories—such as, say, proskynesis. Or the story of Statiera mentioned in the Ask. You’ll see that new take in the forthcoming Netflix docudrama. Alexander isn’t so hands-off. Although I don’t think it was rape so much as Realpolitik, once it became clear Darius had abandoned his family to their fate. And maybe not even Alexander’s idea. 😉
We saw such questioning even in the second/early third wave. Take Karanos. That’s been questioned by Borza, Carney, Greenwalt, et al. BUT Greenwalt has really interesting things to say about the evolving genealogy of the Argead house across time, with morphing forefathers, depending on who the king was. So we get Perdikkas under Alexandros I and Perdikkas “II,” then an Archelaos under Archelaos (Euripides’ lost play), and finally, Karanos under Philip II (or post-Philip). Jonathan Hall in (et al.) Hellenicities talks about the creation of these falsified genealogies in ancient Greece as a means to build and (re-)affirm bonds for political, military, and trade purposes. These things don’t stay the same across time.
The upshot remains that it’s important to check the publication date for any particular book or article, and be sure it’s the original publication, too. Again, the 1991 Univ. of Cal, Berkeley edition of Alexander of Macedon = the 1974 Thames and Hudson’s book of the same title. (If you Google it, you’ll find the “originally published” date, btw.) In short, he wrote it before most people had begun to question the finer points of Kleopatra-Eurydike’s murder by Olympias. OR before so much doubt had been thrown on Justin as a source. (Just wait for the chapter by Carney in the work I’m currently editing. She’s going to trash and burn OH, so much of Trogus/Justin. I’ll give no more spoilers, but yeah. It’s a long, but very good chapter on historiography.)
So publishing date is one thing to look at.
The other is WHO did the writing.
There’s always been a small cottage industry in publishing on Alexander, but quite a few bios have come out recently by people who aren’t Macedonian specialists, or even (sometimes) trained Greek historians (Everitt, I’m looking at you).* Even Goldsworthy’s dual bio, which formed the basis of the recent History Channel episode, was written by a Romanist, albeit he’s known for his military topics. Paul Cartledge, who also wrote a popular bio on ATG, is a specialist on Sparta. Some scholars are one-foot-in, like Carol Thomas, who did Alexander and His World (2006). She knows more about Macedonia due to personal contacts, but her area of serious scholarship is the Dark Age/Early Archaic Age (= Early Iron Age).
So, yes, it’s really important to ask, Who wrote the book/article I’m reading? How deep are they into scholarship on ancient Macedonia/Alexander/Philip II, etc.
The latest bios of Alexander by actual Alexander specialists are Sabine Müller’s Alexander Der Grosse: Eroberungen - Politik – Rezeption (2019), Franca Landucci’s Alessandro Magno (2019), Hugh Bowden’s Alexander the Great, a very short introduction (2014), Edward Anson’s Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues (2013), Lindsay Adams Alexander the Great: Legacy of a Conqueror (2005), and Ian Worthington’s Alexander the Great: Man and God (2004) and the later By the Spear, which includes Phil, too (2016). (Ed Anson also did Philip II, Father of Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues, 2020.) I've probably missed one, so apologize in advance. Again...library is in my office.
If you want to read a biography of Alexander, read a couple of those.
I’ve thought more seriously of late about writing my own biography, intended for non-specialists (e.g., without footnotes but with “for further reading”). Many of these by my colleagues have been textbooks, like Lindsay’s and Ed’s. I’d be more inclined to write it for the interested non-specialist. But I’d have to find a publisher, and I wouldn’t even seriously consider it until this Hephaistion & Krateros book is done.
Also, I might have a hard time selling “yet another” biography on Alexander, especially if it’s not dripping with drama and/or cherished myth and/or doesn’t try to paint Alexander as either a god or a monster.
Or maybe THAT could be the selling point. “This is the biography by a specialist that brings the interested reader up to date on the latest scholarship regarding Alexander, Philip, and Argead Macedonia, but does it in layman’s language, and isn’t a college textbook.”
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*You may wonder why publishers buy books from historians who aren’t Macedonian specialists? Well, sometimes they want that. Carol wrote hers precisely because she’s not a specialist, but had contacts who were, and therefore was thought to be better at breaking it all down for students. Other publishers want the sensationalist stuff, or a “new angle” (which is rarely actually new).
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imrinababy · 6 months
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URL Song Game <3
tytyty @cozytopia & @cronakillz for the tag <33 literally makes my little gremlin heart happy when im included in anything bc sobs i barely interact with ppl
unfortunately it wasn’t a phase mom and we’re still really emo so tw ur abt to see an emo’s playlist. i do listen to a lot of different types of music (including a lot in Spanish) but i have this one playlist i listen to on a daily basis so ill prob be pulling from that mostly. i do have heavy brain rot for ptv so 🧎
I - Intoxicated by The Cab (literally was obsessed with this song years ago but everyone only knew angel with a shotgun)
M - Ma Cherie by Palaye Royale, Kellin Quinn (this song makes my brain so happy istg kellin’s voice against remington's is so ownejqow)
R - Reach by Eyes Set To Kill
I - I Don’t Care by Fall Out Boy
N - Not The American Average by Asking Alexandria
A - Aviation by Misdelphia, Vic Fuentes (omg vic??? who’s he??? anyways this song is so underrated and unknown i think?? idk but I love it)
B - Besitos by Pierce the Veil (ptv brain rot so real on this one mis compás frfr)
A - Ashley by Escape the Fate
B - Basket Case by Green Day
Y - You're so Creepy by Ghost Town
this was literally so much harder than i thought. <//3 i tried to limit it to one song per artist but half of my playlist is ptv so 😭 i tried linking every song from Spotify but im kinda stupid so if i mixed one up, pls do lmk & i’ll fix it. also ilysm pls hmu to anyone who knows more than like 4-6 songs on here <3
once again im too shy to tag anyone so if you see this, heres ur ghost tag. you’re legally obligated to do it now mwah ty
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elyrianinspo · 9 months
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Frenchie had been adjusting as best as he could to being a captain, but it was a lot harder than he expected. He decided that giving Lucius a pay raise to teach him to read would be well worth it one day, but who knew that after learning your letters, there was still more to learn?
And then there was still French! Who was he going to teach him that? The one person who seemed to know French had been…
Frenchie wasn’t going to think of him today. Too much to do and he was a topic with his own lock box for Frenchie to take out and ponder over while strumming the guitar Izzy bought him to make up for the whole Blackbeard thing.
That was something he just couldn’t afford to look into further right now, though he wanted to.
He was just being nice. You needed a new instrument and he obliged because he was the First Mate.
Going into Spanish Jackie’s after months on the high seas, looking for the man who had killed Izzy and Zheng’s crew, felt a bit like coming home. He thought they would have found him by now, but with enough money, even a minor prince could hide just about anywhere.
He half wondered if he was here, but there’s no sign of Banes when he and some of the crew stepped into the establishment.
Jackie and the Swede made it back, it seemed, not too long after Lucius’ and Pete’s wedding, deciding that they would be better suited for helping if they were on land in case a certain prince showed his fancy nose again.
Frenchie got the biggest hug from The Swede upon his arrival and a playful bump on the shoulder by Spanish Jackie as she poured drinks for everyone. Of course, they weren’t free, so after he plopped a large bag of doubloons on the bar to keep the tab opened for the Revenge Crew, Jackie slid a letter across to him.
It looked all fancy and official, but Jackie assured him that it was just a seal that Stede Bonnet had made up for the Inn.
“Who the fuck is Jeff, anyway?” She asked, still confused on the name chosen for the Inn. “Anyway, we visited them about a month back and they wanted us to give Captain Frenchie that.” The Swede was looking at Jackie like he wanted to burst from excitement.
“I can’t read well, yet. What’s the highlights?” Frenchie grinned, speaking to his former crew mate.
Jackie took the letter and cleared her throat to read what it said.
Frenchie’s eyes watered.
Closed starter for @jonas205 || ouizzy
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aceofspades-sml · 2 years
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Jomike rant because I can
Also because @gayspaceagebachelor I promised you my thoughts on this a while ago so here you go
Tw mention of religious trauma and maybe internalized homophobia (my Jojo is angsty what did you expect)
I put it under the cut cause boy I wrote way more than I was supposed to
They are definitely the cute/soft boy ship
Like you want happy and heartwarming vibes ? You go for them
Of course they have their hard times but to me they are the easiest ship to write pure fluff for
Bc in my opinion both of them are the absolute sweetest. Jojo is always pretty cheerful and optimistic while Mike is the kind of person who always has a smile on. Also both of their smiles are contagious so that's why
Also remember when I said they were both gay disasters but with an opposite energy let me elaborate
We all know that Jojo has been raised by nuns, right ? So I know it's like almost canon at this point but I'll say it again, he is really not comfortable with being gay
As in he was taught that it's bad, even though all his friend tell him it's not. He is fine with his friend being queer, but when it comes to himself and romance he loses all his self-confidence
So most of the time he is like so happy and cheerful because he doesn't think about it and when he actually starts thinking about it he'll most likely panic because he was taught loving guys is bad and he'll think he doesn't deserve people to love him
Okay I went a little far from the heartwarming stuff I talked about but I needed to establish that
So anyway my point was, Jojo being jojo will be pretty oblivious when it comes to love and yeah sometimes it's cute but sometimes it can get angsty
ANYWAY
Now onto Mike, I like picturing him as the guy who acts cool and flirty all the time. As in he'll always be joking/messing around and pretending to flirt with everyone, friends and strangers
Sells a lot of papes that way
"So hotshot anyone ever told you you have really pretty eyes"
"You better run."
Except our boy is actually an hopeless romantic inside so the second someone he likes flirts back he becomes completely useless. He will blush a lot, probably stutter and most likely say something stupid that he will overthink after
So um yeah they are chaotic disasters
Anyway now that's established let's get into their actual dynamic
Remember when I said one of my favorite tropes for them was mutual pinning ? I just think this one as a lot of potential because they are both pretty dumb and oblivious
Y'know the "A fell first and B fell harder trope ?" Yeah you can forget it Mike fell first and hard
One day he just looks at his best friend and realizes he is in love with him
Then he starts pinning like an absolute dumbass, at times he'll just stare into Jojo's eyes and get all flustered because he suddenly forgot how to speak
Don't wanna bring in the usual scene with one guy burrying his face in a pillow because how can I be so fucking dumb while another guy is just dying of laughter next to him but this happened at least once with Ike
Except Jojo doesn't even think much about it he'll just brush it off like it's normal
Takes a lot of time for them to stop being idiots
At first Jojo is super scared about dating so there is a lot of angst in the beginning
Meanwhile Mike will try his hardest to make Jojo understand he is loved and has the right to be happy
When Jojo starts getting more confident about it he goes back to his cheerful self. I think he would totally be the type of guy who makes flirty comments at his boyfriend all the time to mess with him
Actually it's more like Mike says something flirty to tease him -> Jojo answers something flirty because he knows exactly what he is doing -> at that point you have lost Mike he became a blushing mess
So sometimes he'll say something really cute in Spanish and Mike has no idea what it is but he understands the way Jojo said it so he gets all flustered
Jojo actually loves making Mike blush by saying he really likes him or stuff like that except at that point he is still scared of expressing his feelings out loud
Jojo is the shy/scared one so at first he is scared to hold hands in public or show any PDA in front of their friends
Also their first kiss omg-
Actually one day Mike just leaned in impulsively and brushed his lips past Jojo's but pulled away almost immediately because he got scared of how the other boy would react and he was pretty sure he had done smth stupid
They both stared at each other wide-eyed for a solid minute before actually leaning in again
Anyway it was really sweet and innocent because Mike could feel Jojo was kinda scared and inexperienced so he was very gentle
Ahem anyway-
But once again when he gains confidence he'll often try to be as close to Mike as he can
I picture them as really touchy bfs they would always be holding hands, brushing against each other's shoulder or cuddling
And when they are holding hands guess who starts blushing yeah it's Mike
He is really happy about it though because he gets to see his boyfriend happy and be the one who made him that happy
They are 100% the kind of couple who would always do romantic stuff like cute dates, looking at the stars or dancing together
Anyway think about them just grinning stupidly when they're around each other and ahjfhakjfhj
Ok I need to go but I might add to this post later with specific modern Era headcanons
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theoversky · 1 year
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I made a post like 1 month ago talking about my thoughts on Jason x Kimberly ship and how I think it was literally meant to be but was cut off due to salary’s fight on BTS. It isn’t a post to hate on Jason David Frank, but it’s like an explanation about JDF x ASJ legendary rivalry. Our Vegeta VS Goku lol.
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The special episode about 30 years of Power Rangers is closer than ever, so I was watching MMPR S1 and it took me to some trivia on Google.
In this link I put here (all in spanish) it was basically what I thought. According ASJ, all the six actors from MMPR cast were unhappy about their salary and the amount of hours of job they had, the six had issues with Fox and tried to do a riot about it.
It happens that Tommy would appear for a few episodes, but everybody loves a bad boy and Fox received like a plenty of letters asking for Tommy to stay. His popularity was instantaneous. So, in that time, the actors needed the six to make a difference, specially JDF, the MVP in that moment. So, fighting about it with Fox, the six actors threatened to leave the show if the payment wasn’t fair. That’s when the things got harder, Fox offered to JDF the lead role as white ranger (the white ranger would exist anyway, but an actor called Brad Hawkins had been cast and, after all this, replaced by JDF). JDF knew he was the most popular character at this point, he knew about the movie and convinced David Yost and Amy Jo Johnson to give up and stay with him.
ASJ, Thuy Trang and Walter Jones had no idea about the caracters’ popularity, like ASJ said, they hadn’t social media in 90s, they worked so hard, they didn’t even know the hit the show was. Maybe they didn’t expected that Fox actually would fire them and the other three actors would give up the fight. The fact is that ASJ told Fox mocked they about Tommy’s popularity factor and said basically they didn’t care because the viewers wanted green ranger and they would make Tommy greater. And, well, they made everything about him without doubts. His image was already saturated. And that was the factor that cut off all the team when JDF decided to leave.
It makes sense to me, I respect JDF and I understand his reasons but I understand ASJ’s reasons too. Also I know ASJ isn’t a saint and neither JDF, but we can’t deny JDF was always a little egocentric and always wanted to be linked to PR franchise in some way, like “the best ranger ever” and things like that. The comic about Tommy is an example, the independent movie he was filming too. It’s ok, it’s ok to be ambitious. I can’t say he did wrong when I don’t know his versions of the sams situation.
So I was searching an answer because my ship didn’t sail back to 90s’ and we have that much of BTS.
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my-gender-is-void · 1 month
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My mother is so against me going on T but when they pumped me full of estrogen via the pill at 14 because it was either that or "risk her becoming infertile due to hight testosterone" then the hormones weren't that bad even if I now have blood circulation issues due to the side effects.
And she's so keen on me not legally changing my name because "that will make it harder for you" yeah because hearing my dead name or having to go through violent conversation at uni to get my name changed on the lists and then have to correct the professors in the middle of a lecture anyways because they don't bother to read their communications doesn't make it hard at all/s
And the worst part is I could just do both things anyway yet since my parents don't want my sister's to know anything about the LGBTQ community (they're 12 and entering highschool and definitely more emotionally intelligent than my parents) if I did any of them there'd be a huge argument because they'd be forced to explain it.
And I love my sisters so much, I raised them for years and they love me so much that I don't know what I'd do if my parents ever told them bad things about me just cause I'm queer.
I'm here silently crying because it's just not fair that I'm turning 24 this november and I still can't transition legally in any way.
Also my brother is in the room ans he hasn't noticed I'm crying, and then my whole family will tell me they don't know I'm doing bad because they never see me cry somefuckinghow.
I was forced to come out of the closet and my mother is all "I'd help and accept my kid if they were queer" and then she will disapprove everything I want to do, as if adding a letter to my widely used nickname is too much to ask for as a name change. She even got bothered by the fact that I told her I wasn't a boy or a girl yet I use masc pronouns in Spanish because it's the most gender neutral I can get without using "elle" which I don't like for myself. And my dad reiterated that those were "men"pronouns and people would thing I was a boy. You know what I'd rather be viewed as a boy than a girl even if I'm not one.
I'm just having a crisis and my sister's were supposed to go to public highschool this year but there were issues with the assignations and now they have to stay at the expensive Opus Dei school.
And my parents obviously don't want anyone to know they have a trans kid and me going on T would be too obvious, because obviously their reputation is more important than my happiness (that doesn't surprise me because it's been a reoccurring theme in my life but it still hurts) "they could bully your sisters for that" have you ever thought maybe, that if you're aware that trans people have a harder time getting certain jobs and they can be hate crimed (even if you won't call it that) and that my sisters would get told shit about their older sibling just for being trans; then denying transphobia exists is kind of fucking stupid. "The world doesn't hate you for being trans", right, and that's why you're worried I might have a hard time, get hurt by someone in the street for being "visibly queer" or be a cause of bullying material against my sisters.
I just want to be happy and not have to sacrifice my relationship with my sisters, is that too much to ask for😭
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