#I only understand that is says “for the Spanish”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Head in the Clouds V

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your national team situation

There's an understanding in the team when it comes to you.

You dominate the league with your scoring and now with Pajor at your side, you've started to develop almost too quickly for the staff to keep up with.

Every ball you touch turns to goals.

You're already the Champion's League top goal scorer and everyone is just waiting for the moment that they all know is coming.

Everyone is waiting for the moment a national team snaps you up.

You're been at a youth camp for both Spain and England before but that's about it.

You don't seem to really care all that match.

You spend most international breaks back home with your parents or off in France with your girlfriend, one of Lyon's star centrebacks.

Her international situation isn't quite as complicated as yours but everyone knows it influences your own. She could play for France or England and people know that if she were suddenly to declare for England then you would go there too.

Unless somewhere else snaps you up first.

Spain seems like the obvious choice with their most recent World Cup win under their belt and their dominance in last year's Nation's League.

But Frido is there with a face time from Magdalena Eriksson, who you excitedly inform is your grandmother's favourite players. She's flattered, of course, if a little confused by what's going on - especially when you gasp and stutter over your words when you catch a glimpse over her shoulder of Pernille Harder.

Alexia fumes by the door of the locker room, a disgruntled look on her face as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"We can't lose her to Sweden!" She hisses to Irene," Do something!"

"Me?! What am I meant to do?!"

"I don't know! Make her a home cooked meal! Remind her off her Basque roots! Anything!"

Irene sighs deeply. She's taking this a little easier than Alexia is but she still would have you join the Spanish team at the drop of a hat.

You were a once in a generation kind of striker and it would make it all the more worse if they lost your allegiance to one of their own club teammates.

The threat of you choosing England seems to have diminished a little with Keira and Lucy gone but Ellie's still here and while she's currently not a part of the England squad, she's still been seen dropping little hints towards you about joining up.

Thankfully for everyone else though, subtlety and hints goes over your head so you don't even realise what you're being told.

But where England has fallen, Sweden has only grown bolder.

Sweden, of course, meaning Frido and her wielding of Magda as a tool to get you to choose them.

"We need to find our own Magda," Irene says solemnly," Do we...Do we have a Magda?"

"We have a Mariona."

"We can't pick Mariona. Y/n already knows Mariona. We need someone older. We need someone mysterious. We need someone more fun that Magdalena Eriksson!"

They turn to each other in horror.

"We need Jenni."

Being Spain's Magda is a role that Jenni is all too comfortable stepping into. She arrives in the country with her usual brand of drama by using her key to access Alexia's house without telling anyone and eating a bowl of the paella she took straight from the fridge.

"So where's the kid?"

"At Irene's," Alexia replies from the stove," They're coming around for dinner." She waves the spatula at Jenni. "You will be nice and charming and you will, under no circumstances, mention any of the other countries vying for her. You have one job. Do it."

"I got it," Jenni says with ease, leaning back on the sofa," Woo the kid. Be the fun aunt. Make sure she chooses Spain. I got it."

Introducing you and Jenni, Alexia and Irene come to find, is the worst idea they've ever had.

Jenni takes her role as the 'fun aunt' to the extreme in the the four day period she has with you.

You go out for lunch and dinner, at both fancy restaurants and little street vendors. Jenni spends a bunch of money on new cooking implements even though you just mentioned them in passing.

There's even a very impromptu Instagram post and accompanying story of you two on a zip wire and Alexia and Irene are more than happy to shoo Jenni back to Mexico.

"Jenni's cool," You tell them the next day," She even signed my autograph book and gave me one of her old Spain shirts!"

At least she'd done something for a job well done.

With Sweden closing in, Alexia can't take any chances.

She even feels confident in her feelings of you choosing Spain.

Until, like it always does, it comes crashing down.

Because a new contender shows up.

It happens out of nowhere and nobody could have predicted it.

"You have brothers?" Vicky asks one day during a break in training.

"Three," You say with a nod and that same wide smile you always get when you talk about your family," A surgeon, a neurologist and lawyer."

"How come we've never heard of them?"

"Oh, they didn't come with us when we moved back to England."

Alexia's heart stutters.

"You didn't always live in England?" Salma asks and you shake your head.

"I grew up in the Netherlands." You think for a moment. "Until I was like thirteen. It was home."

The gears turn in Alexia's head, trying to draw up FIFA's eligibility rules.

But someone gets there before her.

Esmee.

Esmee with a wide grin and Alexia's heart plummets.

"You know," She says, speaking casually to you as the whole team holds its breath," You could play for the Netherlands with me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, the rules say you can. You could come to camp, see your brothers more often. I'm sure Viv would love to have you around."

Sweden may have Magda.

Spain may have had Spanish Magda, Jenni.

But the Netherlands have Viv and Esmee grinning like she's just won the lottery.

Within the week, you've received a signed Miedema jersey and a little note that no doubt Esmee had Viv write about potentially playing together at some point.

"It's fine," Irene whispers days after," It's fine. We've got a recent World Cup. They can't beat that."

You're sitting in your cubby, scrolling on your phone absentmindedly. "Oh!" You say out of nowhere," Are we going to America anytime soon? Should I renew my passport?"

Alexia frowns. "No, we're not and you don't need to renew your passport. Your Mama told me that you've still got three years on it."

"Not my Spanish passport. My American one! Should I renew it now or wait?"

Frido has also stopped what she's doing, turning around slowly with her eyes wide. "Why do you have an American passport?"

"I was born there!" You say brightly," Mama and Papa were there for work and I got impatient! That's what Papa says. So they had to have me in America and I got a cool passport out of it!"

"You have...You have American citizenship?"

"I have a passport!"

"So, yes."

In the background, Esmee groans and there's the clunk of a head hitting a locker door.

Irene looks equally as shocked as Alexia feels. "And...who knows about your citizenship?"

You shrug. "I don't know."

Alexia clears her throat. "Let's...Let's keep it that way. No reason to announce it to everyone."

You shrug. "Okay then."

Silence descends on the locker room and a joint exhale of relief spreads across the room.

Until...

"Oh! Mama said Emma Hayes just called her! I wonder what that's about."

[littlegrapejuice]

Too Vanilla | FC43

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: Franco is very open about his past sex life - maybe a bit too much for you, which eventually makes you insecure.

Author's Note: this is super short but i got the inspo after seeing a small extract of franco on the nude project (i then proceeded to watch the entire thing even tho i barely speak spanish lol) and yeah, I'll say more in the end notes lol but iykyk😭

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

“You’re quiet tonight”, Franco pointed out. “More than usual.”

Shit, was the only word now echoing in your mind. You didn’t think you had been that quiet. Franco and you were having a peaceful night in, cuddling in bed while watching some stupid show whose laughing track was way funnier than the actual jokes.

“Just enjoying the time with you, that’s all.”

Franco knew better. He knew from the way his arms were around you, your hands on your lap and not holding his like you usually did. He knew from the way your body wasn’t entirely relaxed against his.

He just knew you.

“I kinda wanna call bullshit on that, I know you’re lying. Or at least hiding something,” he clarified.

“And what would I be hiding?”

“I don’t know”, he admitted.

And that was it. You both stayed silent for several minutes after the exchange. But now that it was out there, you could feel Franco’s eyes on you. And with the way that he was now holding one of your hands in his, his thumb gently stroking your skin? It was just a matter of time before you were spilling whatever secret you were hiding. Which you did, when you felt him hugging you a bit tighter from where he was sitting behind you.

“It’s about the videos”, you eventually blurted out.

“The videos?” Franco repeated.

“That one video where you did the put a finger down thing”, you explained. “And the most recent podcast.”

“What about those?” He asked, slightly straightening up, before muting the TV.

“Well, you talked about having had sex in a car before, and the podcast…”

“Did I say something wrong in the podcast?”

“It’s not something you said, it’s just how I felt about it.”

“Okay.” Franco nodded, still a bit confused. “Please communicate with me, how did that make you feel?”

“You were talking about pre-race sex somehow helping with your performance, because it was like– relaxing. You also mentioned that having sex on the first date was more than fine for you... And then, I got insecure about it.”

“You got insecure because I’ve been whoring around?” There were certainly better ways to form the question, but at least Franco was trying his best. “You know it all happened before we got together, yeah? I haven’t done that in a while.”

“And that’s the issue!” You exclaimed as you shifted a bit away from him, your side profile now facing him.

“What? You’re saying you’d want me to do those things again?” Safe to say, he was lost. “I'm not sure I get it, what’s the real issue regarding us?”

“The sex, Franco!” You had raised your voice a bit, immediately regretting it. You moved again to sit cross-legged, now actually facing him. “Or more like the lack of it.”

“And that’s the issue because…?” He encouraged you to keep going, still not getting your point.

“Because I’m not having sex with you?” You tried to make him understand. “Because I will probably never have sex with you? Because everything between us is just too vanilla – even more than a middle schoolers’ relationship?”

You expected any reaction from Franco, literally anything. Except him laughing. But that’s what he was doing right now. He had just bursted out laughing.

But you weren’t laughing, far from it. You were just looking at him, widened eyes at his reaction.

“Oh my… oh God…” Franco did his best to calm down, slowly breathing in and out to stop laughing. “Since when is the lack of sex in our relationship an issue? You never brought this up before.”

“I mean, we did talk about it when we got together.”

“But still, I thought we were on the same wavelength? Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?”

“It’s not like– important…”

“Kinda seems like it is”, Franco interrupted.

“Okay, maybe it is. But it’s just that– like– yes, we had agreed that it wasn’t necessary between us… but just watching the podcast and seeing you talk about it, seeing people comment on it–”

“Fuck the comments.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t be paying attention to them…” You admitted. “But I just got in my head, and then I started overthinking…”

“And you thought that us not having sex had become a problem for me? Without asking me what my actual opinion was?”

“Bingo,” you confirmed with a dry laugh.

The silence settled once again between the two of you, but it wasn’t as heavy as earlier. Franco took your hands in his, squeezing them in reassurance.

“How much of the podcast did you watch?” He eventually asked.

“The segment of you talking about pre-race sex, obviously.” You rolled your eyes at him as your voice was full of sarcasm. "And the sex-on-the-first-date moment.

“But did you watch what I said after?”

“Yeah, a bit.” You tried to recall how long the extract had been. “The whole thing wasn’t entirely subbed so I didn’t actually watch everything but–”

“So you remember what I talked about after that?” Franco waited for you to nod before he continued. “About the difficulty of creating real bonds with people, finding a connection, something that matters… That’s you”, he claimed. “You’re the person with who I share an actual bond. The person who I know is here for me, who loves me, and who I love back. What’s between us is precious, something I wanna cherish and care for until you’ll stop having me.”

“I’ll never stop, though.” You tried to avoid Franco’s gaze, ashamed of having doubted his feelings.

“Well, I hope so.” Franco squeezed your hands once again, before he let go of them to cup your face and wipe your cheeks. “You shouldn’t be crying because of me.”

“Bro”, you said with a deadpan tone. “You’re out there declaring your love for me and I’m not supposed to cry?”

“When you say it like that…”

He laughed. But this time, you enjoyed hearing it. And it made you laugh too.

The situation shouldn’t have been a laughing matter – not for most people – but still, you were laughing together. Then, Franco leaned in, his hands still on your cheeks. You leaned towards him as well, and he closed the space between you to kiss you.

For every insecurity you would ever have, Franco would be there to appease them. And for every dumb insecurity like this one, Franco would just have to remind you that the ‘vanilla’ relationship between the two of you was worth so much more than any pre-race sex he could ever have. And maybe he would also remind you that despite not having sex, the make out sessions between you two were sometimes far from being vanilla.

..........

Ok so this one's a bit more personal than others (not counting that one logan fic in which i poured my heart lol)

Ik there's this franco persona we all see as being the epitome of no pr training bc bro is sharing loads of private stuff - and it ain't even that deep tbh like he's just a guy🎀 (btw i did watch the entire pod which was super interesting bc i didn't know that much ab franco before f2 so i recommend!!)

But yeah, this one's for my ace girlies out there who, like me, might think that it's impossible to find love bc most people will expect sex in a relationship💜

This was just a short n' sweet fic that i thought went well w franco (who's the green flag we all need in our lives) - mostly written for my own mental health bc i needed some self love & reassurance🤍

Thanks for reading<3 I'll see you soon, take care of yourselves, i love y'all xx

[bahrtofane]

yearner

in which carlos cant escape his nature after his move to williams, but its not too bad with you

word count - 1.5K+

watch it - angst but with a positive ending. carlos is a yearner

first actual carlos x reader woho!!

Carlos is a sore loser. He supposes it was born out of competition, the drive and desire to be the best. The pit in his stomach when he realizes his position, the bile that claws at his throat when he rewatches his crashes and stupid mistakes. Knowing he can be better, settling for what he has and battling the past. 

He’s a sore loser the way he takes it out on himself. 

He bites his tongue, accepts the points on days when he gets them, does his interviews. He smiles at the cameras, tossing his hair back in the way he knows will get the attention off the far look in his eyes. Something to distract. 

He sighs when he closes the last door, the last barrier between him and the cameras. Sighing as he finally reaches his motorhome. 

His eyes sag, lips pressed in a thing line, mind racing. He chooses to scrub the thoughts away with a shower, impossibly hot and turning him red but he doesn't care. Tomorrow he will be forced to relive his poor performance and smile while everyone looks at him with pity. 

Sleep comes to him much later than it should, and he can only promise to do better. 

—--

Carlos is a sore loser, but even more so he is doomed to circumstance, his own mind. Mulling things over on his own, brushed with a shade of blue that's one shade too sad. 

You know this well, as well as you can with a man like him. He is hard to figure out and hard to remove yourself from. You have become in a way transfixed into understanding more. The way a dog follows a line of treats. You just hope the big bag of treats at the end is getting close.

He has these big beautiful eyes, but the only things they see to capture is his own suffering. You asked him why he keeps doing it, why does he keep suffering in something that has a way out. “Its all I know how to do,” was all he could say. 

It's true you suppose. But this sport will never love him the way he loves it. You see the way people treat him, the way his words fall into silence when every word he speaks is sincere. He gives so much, carving chunks out of himself just in an effort to remind those that he is alive. As if saying, look at me, I'm still here. And it still doesn't seem like enough. 

You met him on a whim, completely by chance rushing as the may sun blasted against your skin. Miami has its perks but the weather in the summer is not one of them. 

You were in Miami for a new job, working for a team and sport you were unaware of. But a job is a job and you booked the flight to Miami the second the email came in. You were late for your first official day, rushing into the hotel the meeting was set to be at. Begging for the elevator to stay open. A single man was inside, back turned, so you spirited. Heel slipping just as you made it inside, crashing right into his back, a slew of what you assumed to be spanish curses followed. 

The rest is history. 

Carlos liked that you were new to his world. That you had no expectations of him, nothing to hold over his head, no promises you forced him to make. You knew only the man in the moment. Not the man in all the races before this. And he adored this. 

—-

Carlos calls you the following day, as he’s gathering his things to head to the airport. 

“Morning.” you mumble out, voice cracking through the speakers. 

He snorts, “good morning. Did you see what I sent?”

You make a garbled noise, the sound of sheets coming from the other end as you battle your phone to dig through the notifications. 

“What am I looking at?” 

“Tickets to the next race.” Carlos says, half like a question unsure of his own words. 

“For me?” you say clearly now. Fully awake.

“Yes. if you want. No pressure.” he adds the last part quickly.

“No, I want to. Thank you.”

You don't bring up the race from yesterday. You rarely bring up racing on your own. Carlos hopes you stick around, for his sake, his sanity. 

—-

You come, dressed in blue for williams. Carlos can't help the smile that spans his face. You blush, taking his hand gingerly. He shows you around, introducing you to people while you give timid waves and quiet hellos. 

And then the time comes for him to leave your side and be back in the belly of the beast. God why did he pick such a ridiculous job. 

—-

He doesn’t place, no points, no podium. He can't face you and the disappointment he knows will be impossible to hide. So he hides. Doing what is needed, showing his face where he must and escaping. He doesn't pick up your calls, jumping into the boiling shower once more and scrubbing like a ritual that will purify him. It wont. But he still does it.

When he sits on the all too clean bed of the motorhome he looks at his phone. Please call me when you can, I care about you. From you, an hour ago. Hm. 

He settles for a text. 

Hey, sorry I just got busy. Sorry for having you come out here for nothing.

You reply immediately.

You have nothing to be sorry for. 

I came for you, not for anything else. 

He looks at the text for much too long before sending his location and asking you to spend the night with him, if you want. Ditch the hotel and bring your things. 

—-

Security gives you a hard time, so he goes to collect you himself. You stand, brows furrowed, in a much more casual outfit. Glasses on your head while you try to plead to be let in. 

You make it through when Carlos waves his hand, taking your suitcase and bags, leading the way. 

It's much quieter when you get inside. The space is almost unnaturally clean. Whites and creams everywhere. You notice the drop in his shoulders, a stark comparison to the way he held his head high earlier. 

He goes into the bathroom, peeling off the casual clothes for pajamas. Giving you a weak smile as you get your things up. 

“Would you still see me if i quit?” he mumbles out, words fraying at the seams. 

You give him a look, “Carlos, I'm not interested in you for any other reason but the fact that it's you. You could take up crab fishing for all I care.” 

He doesnt look up, “they gave me an out, if I want. Anytime I can stop. There's always a replacement.”

You pad over to where he slouches on the bed, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder. “You're too in your head. It's late. Someone once told me never to trust how you feel about yourself past 9 pm.”

“I always feel like this.” he whispers, eyes glassy as he looks up at you.

You now understand at the root of it all, Carlos remains just a little boy who wants somewhere to belong. To feel wanted. A place to do something he cares about and do it well. Where he can be given the chance by people that genuinely believe in him. 

Carlos is more than just a sore loser, a sore loser. He’s a yearner. 

—--

You don't talk about that night. But you do stick around. He asks to be official a few weeks later, over dinner at a restaurant you can’t even pronounce. You tell him what you think and he mulls it over.

He has an out, but doesnt take it. Not yet. He still has a hunger to prove himself. Even if he doubts he can do it. You know he can, you’ve seen the way he works, the passion that fuels him the hunger. He still chases like a wounded dog. 

For Carlos never really knows when to call it quits does he.

—-

It takes almost half way through the season but he makes a podium. P3 in a williams. He wants to cry, shout from the rooftops that he can do it. He is worth it. He belongs here in f1. 

Charles is on the podium, of course he is. A step above in p2. Carlos tries not to tell the red blind him. A reminder of the past and what once was. He says his wonders of thanks to the team, gives Charles a hug and tries not to fall into the routine they used to have.

He instead goes to you, smiling wide while you mouth the words ‘i believed’. 

Carlos is a yearner, and it strings him along endlessly. Tugging at his heart and wrapped around his mind. But he hasn't stopped just yet. Your soft kisses and the way your eyes twinkle at him under the lights make it that much easier. Who knows maybe he can win driving this thing. 

[janesurlife]

This is giving sugar baby and sugar Daddy (I'm sorry 😐😐😐)

[29625]

Slider is my muse. Slider is my paraíso.

Thank universe for giving birth to such a wonderful character, as well as his captivating actor. Thank everything for leading me to the ray of a star shining onto the earth that is him.

Even when I know he will never be there to make an appearance, even when I settle for the fact that he most likely will not be as important or influential as other characters or actors, even when I reached the somber conclusion that his journey has come to an end, I will always love him. And writing him is, I believe, is my way of keeping him alive, both as a character and as a person with legacy.

I hope every one of you who’s read my stories will find a piece of him in your heart—a paraíso.

[serpentface]

Do you conlang? I was wondering if you had naming languages (or possibly even more developed ones) for pulling the words you use. I tried to search your blog but didn't find anything, wouldn't be surprised if the feature is just busted tho. Your worldbuilding is wonderful and I particularly enjoy the anthropological and linguistic elements.

Ok the thing is I had kind of decided I was not going to do any conlanging because I don't feel like I'm equipped to do a good job of it, like was fully like "I'm just going to do JUST enough that it doesn't fail an immediate sniff test and is more thoughtful than just keysmashing and putting in vowels". And then have kinda been conlanging anyway (though not to a very deep and serious extent. I maybe have like....an above average comprehension of how language construction works via willingness to research, but that's not saying much, also I can never remember the meanings of most linguistic terms like 'frictives' or etc off the top of my head. I'm just kinda raw dogging it with a vague conceptualization of what these things mean)

I do at least have a naming language for Wardi (and more basic rules for other established languages) but the rudimentary forms of it were devised with methods much shakier and less linguistically viable than even the most basic naming language schemes, and I only went back over it LONG after I had already made a bunch of words so there's some inconsistencies with consonant presence and usage. (This can at least be justified because it IS a language that would have a lot of loanwords and would be heavily influenced by other language groups- Burri being by far the most significant, Highland-Finnic and Yuroma-Lowlands also being large contributors)

The 'method' I used was:

-Skip basic construction elements and fully move into devising necessary name words, with at least a Vibe of what consonants are going to be common and how pronunciation works -Identify some roots out of the established words and their meanings. Establish an ongoing glossary of known roots/words. -Construct new words based in root words, or as obvious extensions/variants of established words. -Get really involved in how the literal meanings of some words might not translate properly to english, mostly use this to produce a glossary of in-universe slang. -Realize that I probably should have at least some very basic internal consistency at this point. -Google search tutorials on writing a naming language. -Reverse engineer a naming language out of established words, and ascribe all remaining inconsistencies to being loanwords or just the mysteries of life or whatever.

I do at least have some strongly established pronunciation rules and a sense of broad regional dialect/accents.

-'ai' words are almost always pronounced with a long 'aye' sound.

-There is no 'Z' or 'X' sound, a Wardi speaker pronouncing 'zebra' would go for 'tsee-brah', and would attempt 'xylophone' as 'ssye-lohp-hon'

-'V' sounds are nearly absent and occur only in loanwords, and tend to be pronounced with a 'W' sound. 'Virsum' is a Highland word (pronounced 'veer-soom') denoting ancestry, a Wardi speaker would go 'weer-sum'.

-'Ch' spellings almost always imply a soft 'chuh' sound when appearing after an E, I, or O (pelatoche= pel-ah-toh-chey), but a hard 'kh' sound after an A or U (odomache= oh-doh-mah-khe). When at the start of a word, it's usually a soft 'ch' unless followed by an 'i' sound (chin (dog) is pronounced with a hard K 'khiin', cholem (salt) is pronounced with a soft Ch 'cho-lehm')

-Western Wardin has strong Burri cultural and linguistic influence, and a distinct accent- one of the most pronounced differences is use of the ñ sound in 'nn' words. The western city of Ephennos is pronounced 'ey-fey-nyos' by most residents, the southeastern city of Erubinnos is pronounced 'eh-roo-been-nos' by most residents. Palo's surname 'Apolynnon' is pronounced 'A-puh-lee-nyon' in the Burri and western Wardi dialects (which is the 'proper' pronunciation, given that it's a Kos name), but will generally be spoken as 'Ah-poh-leen-non' in the south and east.

-R's are rolled in Highland-Finnic words. Rolling R's is common in far northern rural Wardi dialects but no others. Most urban Wardi speakers consider rolling R's sort of a hick thing, and often think it sounds stupid or at least uneducated. (Brakul's name should be pronounced with a brief rolled 'r', short 'ah' and long 'uul', but is generally being pronounced by his south-southeastern compatriots with a long unrolled 'Brah' sound).

Anyway not really a sturdy construction that will hold up to the scrutiny of someone well equipped for linguistics but not pure bullshit either.

[mono-socke]

little reminder that THIS is what play squip canonically turns into when jeremy gets high

[demonstars]

I can speak Spanish (not native) and I can understand like 80-90% of what they say as long as it’s just them speaking Spanish. The second someone talks in English though I have to like reset my brain to thinking in Spanish which can be a little much. so when George or Sapnap is talking I kind of tune out the Spanish then if that makes sense? Idk it’s probably different for native speakers though

This is kinda insane to me /pos. Can I ask how you learnt Spanish

[evafhernee]

I love love love that the ccs will be forced to use the translator in order to communicate with the new ccs joining qsmp because that’s what it’s there for!!!!! it’s a translator!!! use it to translate, even if both of you are able to speak the same language!

I don’t see enough people use the translator, especially when the ccs are both able to speak (usually) english, and it’s still great that they can speak easier if they speak the same language, but the language barrier is one of the causes for the creation of the qsmp! Let the language barrier be a barrier in the first place, and let the translator do the work it was meant to do!

Let people who physically can’t speak the same language interact! It’s part of what makes qsmp qsmp, and even though it has impacted hugely just from adding people who generally create content and talk in different languages, I do think it somewhat lacks in the people speaking different languages category, because while that is true, it is also somewhat untrue in that all of the ccs can speak one of the same language (usually english), even if they’re not a natural at it!

Now, that’s not a bad thing at all! But, it does blur the speaking different languages problem that was meant to occur in qsmp. They speak different languages! Let them speak whatever language they want and let the translator do the work! Again, that is what it is there for! It is a translator! (I’m looking at you twitter)

And even if it takes a million repeats of the same sentence for someone to finally get what another person is trying to say, a hundred fuck-ups of the translation or a thousand language barrier/cultural miscommunications, again, qsmp was made for this to happen! It was made so people who come from different backgrounds and are usually unable to interact because of cultural/language barriers can interact, whether it start out negative or positive!

And I trust them (the ccs and fans) to communicate if controversy/confusion happens culturally and language-wise, and (hopefully) for the fans to not turn anything minor** into a huge drama, so I am extremely excited to see the ccs be forced into using the translator!

[thedrotter]

Re:Kinder Fun fact time!! Did you know? 😊

Yuuichi's theme song (the one that often accompanies his entrances with "Vamos Cantar!"), 新しい夏のナナ, is not in any latin language such as Spanish or Portuguese, despite its lyrics sounding as such. It's actually in Hanamogera, which to put it simply is nonsense speech based on japanese syllables. So the song's lyrics are essentially gibberish meant to imitate the sound of latin music! 😊

It is listed as such in the source site for the song, oo39.com, where the song can be found as "YS068" in the hanamogera category.

Additional fun fact! The song can also be found in Spotify as Vien Nana by Oo39.com themselves alongside a few other select songs from the site. So you can properly enjoy the song on the platform without having to import it from your local files.

Those are the fun Re:Kinder related fun facts for today... Use them to entertain your friends at parties ! ☺️

[bonebrokebuddy]

God I really need to relisten to The Adventures of Superman radio show (1941-1951) again and tally the amount of times Jimmy Olson watches a man die in front of him.

Because I started a tally about halfway into my listening of the show and I had a tally of 31.

I listened to only around 20-25 arcs.

And out of those, people died in front of this 14-17 year old copyboy 31 times, often due to brutal gunshot wounds. And because it’s a show from the 40s, it’s never addressed at all.

Genuinely need to make an essay one of these days on the change and development of his character and how it evolved pre-during-post WWII. Especially how he was used as a vessel for pushing the ideology of “self-sacrifice for the greater good” propaganda to glorify the idea of dying for the war for children listening to the show that would soon be drafted. And how he was used to push ideas of religious and racial tolerance post-war.

I don’t tend to nerd out about history stuff a lot on this blog but the whole “media is created by its time, of its time, for its time,” is extremely prevalent during this time with the fact that nearly zero broadcasted radio shows weren’t propaganda to some level.

[bat-the-misfit]

"but portuguese and spanish are so similar i'm sure you can understand spanish speakers"

bestie brazilians can't even understand portuguese people and we literally speak the same language lol

actually brazilians can't even understand other brazilians. i'm still trying to understand mineires and minas gerais is literally above my own state

[everythingroyalty]

Christian, Isabella, Vincent and Josephine are now attending four different schools. What do you think about the schools and are you suprised by some of the choices?

Ordrup Gymnasium – I think this was a really solid choice on Christian's end! Have a bit of personal experience with this one and it's definitely my favourite of the upper secondary schools in the area – I'd say it's more diverse in the student body than both Øregård, Aurehøj and GHG. And I think the group of his friends that attend Ordrup is much more appealing company than the group that attends Herlufsholm.

Øregård Gymnasium – I was slightly surprised and disappointed she didn't stay at Ingrid Jespersens for upper secondary but then again, lots of students change schools come upper secondary school 🤷‍♀️ Everyone I know who've attended Øregård have been absolutely insufferable but I might've just been unlucky 😅

Tranegårdsskolen – My granny's been a teacher here 😎 I mean, it's basically a private school in disguise as a state school due to its location. Personally, I think it would've been really amazing if M&F had just picked the local state school for their kids instead but yeah 🤷‍♀️ I don't know that I think there's anything particularly peculiar about Isabella and Josephine leaving ahead of time. Obviously Isabella was due to move to Herlufsholm and Josephine leaving at the start of year 6 (the earliest year at which Herluf takes students) makes me think she, too, had intended to leave for Herlufsholm this year. Kudos to Vincer for staying put – I doubt he would've been a Herlufsholm brat 🫶

Kildegård Privatskole – Don't know anything about it 🤷‍♀️ As mentioned above, I think it pretty much confirms Josephine was Herlufsholm-bound as well, and that this was the alternative M&F could offer her. Not a school I would've chosen and I know all the nouveau riche FLOCK to the Hellerup-Gentofte area and think it's the fanciest ever but respectfully, I'd never voluntarily opt for a school in the outskirts of Copenhagen 🤡✌️

One could be tempted to ask oneself why, given that at least 3 of the children were so eager to board at Herlufsholm, did none of them opt for, say, a UWC programme or just a foreign boarding school instead? But nah. This is about jetset kids – most of which know each other already – wanting to have fun away from their parents and "creating bonds for life" 🤢 Not much different from, say, Eton brats but it's much more difficult for large group of Danish kids to get into the same foreign schools to do their jetset kids thing – just because the poor Danish royal kids aren't allowed to go to Herluf.

Personally, if I were M&F, I would've probably just sent my kids to a UWC programme regardless of their own opinions. It's healthy to make new friends from different backgrounds – especially for royal kids. But I think especially Frederik is way too lenient a parent to do that because of his own upbringing.

I love CIVJ and I don't think they're insufferable people but I genuinely think they need to think carefully about the company they keep. Seeing Christian mingle with the classless Bourbon des Deux-Siciles is so disappointing, honestly. If he's not careful, he's gonna be in for a rude awakening when he turns 18 and the tabloids are no longer obliged to treat him as a child because that's definitely something they're gonna aim at.

[youareinlove]

my favorite version of taylor comes back today: spanish speaker

she's a better spanish speaker than me and i took THREE YEARS OF IT

[kurp-stuff]

Well the french in the last episode of iwtv was certainly something

[gogomeaty]

I went out to eat with my grandma and her comadres (girl friends), and everything was okay i didn't except a good time because i didn't know any of the people who was there but it was alright till they started to talk about gay people calling them degenerates and how it was wrong and from there the things were uncomfortable for me.

Like I knew they have that opinion they're old people with the old mentality who don't want to educate themselves and prefer to just keep that stupid way of thinking because it's easier but like it's so frustrating to have to listen the same thing over and over from their generation and can't say anything, they expect you to think the same thing as them even if clearly our generation is way more changed