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reasonsforhope · 3 months

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The World's Forests Are Doing Much Better Than We Think

You might be surprised to discover... that many of the world’s woodlands are in a surprisingly good condition. The destruction of tropical forests gets so much (justified) attention that we’re at risk of missing how much progress we’re making in cooler climates.

That’s a mistake. The slow recovery of temperate and polar forests won’t be enough to offset global warming, without radical reductions in carbon emissions. Even so, it’s evidence that we’re capable of reversing the damage from the oldest form of human-induced climate change — and can do the same again.

Take England. Forest coverage now is greater than at any time since the Black Death nearly 700 years ago, with some 1.33 million hectares of the country covered in woodlands. The UK as a whole has nearly three times as much forest as it did at the start of the 20th century.

That’s not by a long way the most impressive performance. China’s forests have increased by about 607,000 square kilometers since 1992, a region the size of Ukraine. The European Union has added an area equivalent to Cambodia to its woodlands, while the US and India have together planted forests that would cover Bangladesh in an unbroken canopy of leaves.

Logging in the tropics means that the world as a whole is still losing trees. Brazil alone removed enough woodland since 1992 to counteract all the growth in China, the EU and US put together. Even so, the planet’s forests as a whole may no longer be contributing to the warming of the planet. On net, they probably sucked about 200 million metric tons of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere each year between 2011 and 2020, according to a 2021 study. The CO2 taken up by trees narrowly exceeded the amount released by deforestation. That’s a drop in the ocean next to the 53.8 billion tons of greenhouse gases emitted in 2022 — but it’s a sign that not every climate indicator is pointing toward doom...

More than a quarter of Japan is covered with planted forests that in many cases are so old they’re barely recognized as such. Forest cover reached its lowest extent during World War II, when trees were felled by the million to provide fuel for a resource-poor nation’s war machine. Akita prefecture in the north of Honshu island was so denuded in the early 19th century that it needed to import firewood. These days, its lush woodlands are a major draw for tourists.

It’s a similar picture in Scandinavia and Central Europe, where the spread of forests onto unproductive agricultural land, combined with the decline of wood-based industries and better management of remaining stands, has resulted in extensive regrowth since the mid-20th century. Forests cover about 15% of Denmark, compared to 2% to 3% at the start of the 19th century.

Even tropical deforestation has slowed drastically since the 1990s, possibly because the rise of plantation timber is cutting the need to clear primary forests. Still, political incentives to turn a blind eye to logging, combined with historically high prices for products grown and mined on cleared tropical woodlands such as soybeans, palm oil and nickel, mean that recent gains are fragile.

There’s no cause for complacency in any of this. The carbon benefits from forests aren’t sufficient to offset more than a sliver of our greenhouse pollution. The idea that they’ll be sufficient to cancel out gross emissions and get the world to net zero by the middle of this century depends on extraordinarily optimistic assumptions on both sides of the equation.

Still, we should celebrate our success in slowing a pattern of human deforestation that’s been going on for nearly 100,000 years. Nothing about the damage we do to our planet is inevitable. With effort, it may even be reversible.

-via Bloomburg, January 28, 2024

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avelera · 3 months

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Thinking about Hob Gadling in 1589, or rather in the decades leading up to 1589 when we see him as Sir Robert Gadlen

Thinking about how he went north, twice, to come back as his own son, presumably to build the myth of the Gadlen family. Before that, as a soldier, a brigand, and a tradesman in printing, he probably didn't have enough money to need to "leave it" to a son, because he'd had no real assets. No houses, no businesses, nothing besides his weapons and armor, the proverbial clothes on his back, and what spoils of war could be carried with him.

But to make money you have to spend it, you have to have it, you have to invest it. 1389, the year of Hob gaining immortality, corresponds to the birth year of Cosimo de' Medici, the man who would establish the great banking dynasty of Florence, Italy. I note this because this transformation in Europe corresponds with Hob's progress through immortality and rather roughly corresponds to when, as I see it, he would have moved from an individual soldier of fortune to make his living to needing some sort of continuity of identity if he was going to move beyond that.

In this instance, pretending to be his own son (or relative) would be a necessity to inherit his own wealth so he could carry it forward for the next 10-30 years, before he'd have to reinvent himself again. The money to buy a knighthood would be the work of generations.

I'm thinking about Hob building himself up from being a printer's apprentice (because printing was so new a trade that it was probably one of the few where he could get in as a man perpetually in his 30s, most apprenticeships would require you to begin as a child) to gaining his knighthood. By his own admission of faking his death twice by 1589, he'd be Robert Gadlen the Third, possibly the Fourth (not that this was a naming convention back then for commoners, but more to illustrate where 1589 Hob stood in the line of his own fictional family inheritance).

The first half of the 1500s in England under Henry VIII still saw a predominance of nobility holding the lion's share of power, but it did see something of a shift where you had noteworthy men rise to great heights from common origin, like Thomas Wolsey and Thomas Cromwell (yes, I'm rewatching Wolf Hall, why do you ask?).

But now to the point that got me thinking about this: imagine Hob in the 1500s. At the beginning of the century he is the first of his name, building his fortune. Robert Gadlen, who made his money in the printing business then invested it, through a great stroke of luck in to the powers-that-would-be that century: the Tudor shipyards. Hob building himself from very nearly nothing, peasant stock, nothing more than a soldier and a brigand before that. It's still grubby to build oneself up from trade, better to have been born to wealth of course, this isn't American Yankeedom and we're before the Puritans, where showing one's hard work was a virtue rather than an ugly necessity of the common people. But Hob still did it, with his own hands.

Imagining Robert Gadlen II, and Robert Gadlen III, the "scion" of a family on the rise, sniffing around the edges of the Tudor court, eventually finding his way in, having enough gold to buy himself a knighthood.

Imagining Robert Gadlen, meeting one of those common men in the service of Henry VIII, noting with chagrin their own common birth, the sons of blacksmiths and butchers, unlike Sir Robert, whose father was a man of means who left a growing fortune to his son.

And I can't help but imagine Hob smiling, a little slyly because he did it, he slipped passed the censors, no one knows of the fact he was born to peasant stock almost 200 years ago, and no one ever will. As far as anyone knows, he was born wealthy, a gentleman in the rising social consciousness that all it takes to be a gentleman is to have the money to act as one.

But I can't help but wonder if that smile would be just a little uncomfortable, too. Because no one will ever know. No one will ever know that Sir Robert Gadlen didn't inherit his money, that he's not some child of nepotism and generational wealth who has never worked and never starved. He is the founder of his own family, he built it himself and with each generation that goes by he has to leave more and more of that story behind him. Except with Dream.

#the sandman #sandman meta #hob gadling

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fideidefenswhore · 1 year

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Payne added there was a prophecy of the parish priests ruling the realm three days and three nights, 'and then the white falcon should come out of the north-west and kill almost all the priests, and they that should escape should be fain to hide their crowns'. The white falcon was Anne Boleyn's badge and an indication of how widespread was the belief in Henry VIII's new wife's role in the religious turmoil in the country. Records showed no actions were taken, but Arundel believed it was his duty to report the rumors to Cromwell.

Political propehcy in Tudor England (Ding, Jessica)

#hmm...north-west is so specific though?#the prophecy comes from 1535 and the progress of 1535 did not include the northwest of england #i suppose it could have been referring to their time in the welsh marches but that's a bit of a stretch wrt 'northwest'#anyway the falcon was in heraldry other than anne's so...hm #falcon in the fetterlock was one. generally a white falcon given it was the yorkist insignia

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whywishesarehorses · 2 years

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Pensioner sets off on 600-mile pony trek with pet dog in saddlebag

Jane Dotchin, 80, has been making the unusual journey from Northumberland to the Highlands since 1972. (Story from STV News)

An 80-year-old woman who wears an eyepatch is on an annual trek with her pony from England to the Highlands – on a seven-week adventure which began in 1972.

Jane Dotchin packs her saddlebags onto her trusty pony’s back every year, and heads to the hills from her home near Hexham, Northumberland, on an epic 600-mile trek to Inverness, covering between 15 and 20 miles a day.

She set off on August 31 with her steed, Diamond, aged 13, and her disabled Jack Russell named Dinky for company, from the off-grid smallholding where she lives.

She carries everything she needs including her tent, food and just a few belongings – and despite wearing an eyepatch is determined to continue as long as she can.

Ms Dotchin said: “My mother would look after my other ponies but she wasn’t that keen on looking after my Halfinger stallion, so I rode him down to Somerset to see a friend, which is about 300 miles.

“It was a bit of a hard slog, but it was good.”

After that initial journey, she caught the taste for the open road and travelled to visit friends near Fort Augustus, near Loch Ness, every autumn since.

The journey takes around seven weeks depending on weather and Ms Dotchin tries to stop off to see people she has met over the years.

She said: “I refuse to go slogging on through pouring wet rain.

“There are a few different routes I can take depending on the weather.

“I don’t want to go over hilltops in foul weather, but I work it out on the way.

“I don’t bother with maps, I just keep to the routes I know.

“It is nice to go and see [people] again – I ring them up in the morning to say I’m going to be there in the evening.

“I don’t warn them too far in advance, because if the weather suddenly changes or I decide to stop early then they can be left wondering where I’ve got to.”

Disabled Jack Russell Dinky, who has deformed front legs, travels in a saddle bag.

Ms Dotchin said: “She manages fine, when there is a nice grassy track she gets out and has a run, but she doesn’t like stoney ground but she is a nice hot water bottle for me in the tent.”

She said: “I asked for something good and solid in my old age and he got me a cob from Ireland. I struggle to get on her half the time, but otherwise I manage fine.”

Her diet consists of porridge oats, oatcakes and cheese which is bought at local shops.

She prefers to make porridge with milk, but water will suffice.

Ms Dotchin added: “You can always boil it from a stream.”

Her bathroom habits are equally DIY, and she said: “I dig a hole.”

Ms Dotchin is devastated by the littering she has seen over the years and said Cumbernauld, North Lanarkshire, is somewhere she finds “shameful” due to the amount of rubbish.

She said: “It’s appalling, in particular single used barbecues which are left lying all over the place.

“Cumbernauld is the fly-tipping capital of Britain.

“There are some lovely people there who let me camp, but some of it is so disgusting and shameful.”

Campervans on single track roads have also become a more persistent problem.

She said: “Drivers just didn’t seem to know how wide they were, I was forever just about getting swept off the roads by them.”

The right to roam has helped with countryside access, but she said: “There are still some locked gates or little side gates that you can’t get a horse with packs on through.”

For emergencies she carries an old mobile phone as the battery lasts six weeks.

Ms Dotchin said: “I keep it switched off and just ring out to ring up landowners to get gates unlocked or to warn people when I’m coming but sometimes the trouble is getting a signal.”

During the foot and mouth crisis in 2001 she went on bicycle instead.

She said: “I covered many more miles with the dog in a pannier but it was not the same, I missed my horse.”

In recognition of her independent spirit, and many years of long distance trekking, she received The British Horse Society lifetime achievement award last year, which she said was “a bit of a surprise.”

During her travels she witnesses rutting deer and stags fighting in the autumn, and foxes.

She said: “There is always something interesting happening and there is never a dull moment.

“I will probably be stopped one of these days.”

#horse #news #irish cob #draught horse #trail riding #hacking #horseback riding #equestrian #horseblr #horse riding #draft horse #equine

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awfcspencer · 2 months

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Anniversary Night || leah williamson x reader

prompt: Leah wouldn’t forget your anniversary right?

warnings: angst

a/n: this spent so long in the drafts so I figured I'd post it

Every second that passed felt like an hour. The sun had been high in the sky when you began baking the chocolate cake for tonight, but now the sun had dipped below the horizon, and it was beginning to get late.

The extravagant dinner you had spent hours watching tutorials on and carefully following the recipe to its exact details had gone cold. It was Leah’s favorite dish her mother used to make during her childhood, and you enlisted Amanda’s help to properly prepare the dish for your third anniversary with the blonde tonight. She guided you through each step and even went alongside you to the market to get the ingredients. It sat untouched in the middle of the table that you decorated with tiny hearts and rose petals.

The candles you lit minutes before Leah was supposed to arrive had burnt out and the flowers you had set on the table were lacking water as the night grew on. The vinyl you had put on in the background had long ended and left your shared home silent. It was quiet and you were alone.

The time you had spent perfecting your makeup and slipping into a tight black dress that you had been hiding in the back of your shared closet just for tonight was now a waste. The time you had spent decorating the kitchen and bedroom was now all for nothing seeming as it was entering midnight, and it would no longer be the special day. The time you spent using the icing bag to carefully etch ‘Happy Anniversary’ into Leah’s favorite kind of cake was useless. You would never get that time back.

You had tried to ring Leah several times throughout the night, desperately wondering when she was due to return home from training after she did not walk through your shared home at the normal time. Each time you called her it went to voicemail. As each hour ticked by, your smile seemed to fade and your patience began to wither, but most importantly, your heart was shattered. What was initially supposed to be a romantic evening had ended up a big disappointment and the hope of spending time with Leah had disappeared. On the fourth time you tried to reach Leah and were met with her voicemail once again sent your phone crashing into the nearest wall.

You weren’t woken up exactly as the clock striked midnight and showered with kisses like the first anniversary.

You weren’t given breakfast in bed and spent the day in Leah’s warm embrace until the middle of the afternoon like the second anniversary.

Instead you woke up to a cold, empty bed. Not a single text or note from Leah. Not even a kiss goodbye and a promise to return home soon.

Something in your brain allowed you to brush it off though. That should have been your first red flag. Leah always made you feel the most special girl in the world, surely she couldn’t have forgotten such an important day.

Three years ago, Leah had asked you to be her girlfriend after several small dates and continuous messaging. You met the blonde in a low-key bar just on the outskirts of North London and she quickly captured your heart with her charming and compassionate personality. Today marked three years of loving Leah and three years of Leah loving you.

So instead of dwelling in the fact the morning hadn’t been exactly what you pictured, you were sure that Leah would make up for it in the night.

You knew that Leah had thrown herself into hours of rehabilitation and countless physio meetings to help her desperate bid to return to the pitch. Sitting out during Arsenal games and being dropped from the England squad had taken a great toll on the defender. You supported her every step of the way, even when it meant she did not return home until late and left before you awoke the next day. But you figured she would be home on time tonight. You figured she would be home on a special occasion like tonight. But unfortunately, you were incredibly wrong.

You quickly place the uneaten food and cake in the fridge to hopefully preserve them so you could possibly eat them tomorrow. You were met with the mini calendar that was located on the fridge to remind you and Leah of appointment, matches, or meetings. The single date had been outlined in a large red heart since entering the month. You wanted to rip the whole thing off the fridge and tear it in a million pieces, as a way to represent how your heart felt.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to make sense of it all. How could she have forgotten? How could she have let something so important slip through the cracks of her mind? Tears fell from your eyes non-stop, ruining the pretty mascara you had done as it ran down the sides of your cheeks. With just a few minutes until midnight, you couldn’t help prevent your heart from feeling hurt, especially when it was still radio silent from Leah.

You wanted the black dress off. You wanted to take the makeup off. You wanted to tear down every decoration you had put up and throw it in the trash. Instead settling with a quick shower that did not aid in your severed heart and clouded brain. When the time came to enter your shared bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to be suffocated with the defender’s magnetic scent and the thought that she was out somewhere on your anniversary instead of with you. You snatched the comforter off and a pillow and slept on the couch.

---

After another grueling day of rehabilitation followed by a team night out to celebrate the upcoming matches, Leah’s muscles and body ached with exhaustion. But as Leah stepped through the door of your shared home, her heart sank like a stone as she caught sight of the large ‘Happy Anniversary’ banner and the countless related decorations scattered around the house. The worst image of all was you sound asleep on the couch with red puffy eyes.

Today was supposed to be a special day and Leah had forgotten all about it. You heard her enter the home nearly a quarter till 2 A.M. Your anniversary was long over. She seemed tired, most likely from how hard she had been pushing herself in the gym and in training. All that work to get back onto the pitch, to get off the sidelines, not knowing she was sidelining something else, the relationship you thought she valued as much as you did.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” you finally spoke, your voice hardly above a whisper but filled with accusation. You couldn’t meet the defender’s eyes, the hurt in your heart didn’t allow it.

Leah’s head snapped up, guilt flashing across her features before she could mask it. Leah sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair, “I’ve been so busy with rehab and training… I guess it slipped my mind,” she admitted, her voice barely audible at the guilt she felt inside.

“Slipped your mind? Slipped. Your. Mind.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

A wave of hurt washed over you as you struggled to hold back tears. “I can’t believe you forgot our anniversary,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat. You couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness that gnawed at your heart.

Leah reached out tentatively, her hand hovering in the air before she pulled back, as if she was unsure whether she was welcome to touch you. “I’m sorry, I really am,” she said softly, her eyes pleading for forgiveness.

“It’s not just about today,” you choked out, your voice trembling with pent-up emotions. “It’s about feeling like I am not a priority in your life anymore.” She had been so focused on getting back on the pitch that she cut you so deeply in the process. How could she forget?

Leah’s shoulders slumped, her heart aching at the pain she had caused you. “You are a priority, you always have been,” she insisted, her voice think with emotion and guilt. “I’ve just been so focused on rehab. I didn’t realize how much it was affecting us.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at her, torn between wanting to forgive her and wanting her to understand just how much she had hurt you. “I miss us,” you admitted. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, but you couldn’t bring yourself to soften your face at the excuses she continued to usher out.

Leah’s heart clenched at your words, a pang of regret coursing through her. “I miss us too. I promise I’ll make it up to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.” Anger bubbled up inside you, fueled by the recent weeks of feeling neglected and ignored.

You nodded slowly, feeling a glimmer of hope flicker within in. “I want to believe you, really I do. But what about me? What about what I need?”

Leah’s gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet your eyes. “I’m trying, I really am. But it’s not easy.” The blonde’s expression crumbled, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and regret.

Your eyes stung as the tears feel freely, you heart aching with a pain that seemed to have no end. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

The words hung between you like a chasm, a stark reminder of the divide that had grown between you and the defender. As the silence stretched on, you knew something needed to change. Whether that change would bring you closer together or tear you apart.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso soccer #woso blurbs #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso

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pelova4president · 1 month

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Wingteam

Grace Clinton x Reader

Summary~ You thought you could trust Beth with your secret crush… you thought wrong.

“No Beth, i don’t like her!” you groaned. Why did they always do this to you. Everyone had their suspicions about your crush on the young Spurs talent but they didn’t have to out you like that, in front of the girl herself. You looked away from Grace with red cheeks and gave Beth a warning look.

Beth’s been a sort of mom to you. You stayed at her house when you started playing for the blue and white club. You were just sixteen and your parent lived at least four hours away. Traveling to training every day just wasn’t realistic like that so Beth took you in.

It’s been three years since then and you’ve finally moved out. Beth still had a room ready for you when you wanted to stay over but you both knew it would be better for you if you got your own apartment.

Your captain’s always been noisy. When you lived with the player she was asking for all your latest school and relationship drama. Most times you gave in and told her the gossip but you held some information to yourself, like some of your crushes. But now that you don’t share an apartment anymore she got even more noisy, she felt like she didn’t get all the details of your life so she was digging deep for your secrets.

Beth had invited you over for dinner one evening in the hopes to get an update on your seemingly dead love life. As soon as she opened the door she was asking you the most out of pocket questions.

“So you’ve got a crush hm?” she grinned. Ofcourse she knew you had a crush on someone but you had to deny. “Don’t know what you’re talking about old lady.” you shrugged her off, walking into the living room. Beth rolled her eyes at your nickname but didn’t give up.

“I know you’ve got one, come on tell me. I’m basically your mom by now. You’ve got to tell me kid.” she argued. Beth was pulling the ‘i raised you card’ and you had to give in to her. “Whatever, yeah so what? You’ve had crushes too.” you drowned in her couch cushions.

“I knew it! Oh my god is it someone from the team?” you blushed at that, how did she fucking know. “No way! It is! Is it Celin? Wait no no, is it Lenna? Oh my god is it Clinton..” you looked down. Beth’s mouth fell open, “No fucking way.. your crush is Grace Clinton.” she gasped.

“Don’t fucking tell anyone Bethany England. You may act like my mom but you’re not mom enough to go around and tell everyone and their gran my secrets.” you sighed. Why did you even come over in the first place.

“You know me, i wouldn’t tell a soul!” she said, her hand moving to her heart offended. You looked at her with a raised eyebrow, “Yeah, right..”

And just like you expected she just couldn’t keep your secret to herself. In no time Martha knew and told Rebecca who told Rosella and she basically told the whole team. And now you had to deal with their teasing too.

After winning a big North London derby a few of the girls went out to celebrate, including the smiling girl you’ve had your eyes on. And just like always, after a few shots and drinks Celin demanded everyone had to play a game.

“Everyone! Truuuuuuth or dare now.” she yelled across the room. It was hard to not participate or to get out of it since Celin and Grace would literally force you to sit down and play along.

Most of your older teammates had already gone home to their partners, boring. So you sat down in between Charlie and Lenna who had joined you earlier. Grace and Celin sat across from you, together like always.

Sometimes that made you a little jealous but you knew Celin had a boyfriend and Grace probably didn’t like her like that. And Lenna told you Grace saw Celin as her bestfriend, they were like sisters.

When Celin had everyone sitting in a circle the fun could begin. She dared Rosella to down two shot at the same time.

Lenna got asked who she wouldn’t let her kid date and after a bit of poking for an answer she said Celin. Charlie had to tell everyone her worst sex story, and surely no one could top that.

When it was Beth’s turn to ask someone she chose you. She was out to get you and you knew it. “Hmm truth or dare, pipsqueak?” she asked. She knew you absolutely hated that name, she was just trying to embarrass you.

It didn’t matter what you would chose, none of the options would be in your favour. “I hate you, dare.” you murmured under your breath. “Sorry, didn’t hear you there. Speak up.” she grinned from ear to ear.

“I said dare” you repeated. You didn’t think her smile could get any bigger but it was taking up her whole face now. What was she gonna say…

“Hmmm.. what should i say…” your captain pretended to think. “I dare you to… play seven minutes in heaven with…” she was teasing you, you knew it. This fucking hag. Beth was really playing out a whole theatre performance. She was looking around the room, pointing with her fingers until her pointer stopped. Grace.

“I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Clinton.” she finished. You looked at your older teammate like she had just murdered your cat.

“You’ve already rejected your last truth so you can’t back out of this one.” your new Australian teammate reminded you.

You looked at Grace with pink cheeks. Grace gave you a shy smile and nodded, signalling she’d participate.

As you walked towards the nearest door you heard your football mom shout. “Have fun! But not too much!” did she really have to embarrass you so much in front of your crush..

Grace opened the door for you like a real gentlewoman. When she closed the door you looked at each other for a bit. You didn’t know what to say so you became red, your ears felt like they were on fire.

“Look, if you don’t want to do anything we can just talk for the next few minutes. All good.” the blonde spoke up. You looked up at Grace and knew that this was probably the best chance you would ever get. That and Beth would probably murder you if you didn’t make a move.

“I do not not want to kiss you.” you whispered softly but loud enough to reach the ears of the English girl. “Hmm, what’d you say. Didn’t really hear you?” she grinned.

Looking at her face you could see she had heard exactly what you had said. But how could you resist such a pretty face with those beautiful eyes and cute freckles. “We can kiss.” you spoke, this time louder.

Grace took that as her chance to take your face into her hands. Her thumb was tracing your bottom lip until you looked her in the eyes. “That’s all i needed to hear pretty girl.” she breathed.

Her pink lips finally touched yours. She was sweet just like you had imagined. She deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth. Grace was rough this time, biting your lip and exploring your body with her hands.

And when the two of your broke the kiss, completely out of breath she spoke again. “Fuck, how much i’ve been wanting to do that. Seeing you staring at me in training gets me so worked up and you just didn’t seem to make a fucking move. Had to do it all myself hmm.” she laughed.

“Beth’s done half the work. You’ve got such a big ego Clinton, give the granny some credit.” you rolled your eyes.

Still, you’d never admit that Beth has actually helped you with all her secret spilling.

graceclinton_x

liked by alessia and 109.728 others

had to do everything myself to get this girl

comments

y/n_y/l/n you’ve got such a big ego 😒

↳ graceclinton_x you love it tho 🫶

↳ y/n_y/l/n no, i don’t.

↳ graceclinton_x no need to lie love, i know you do

lennagw finally!!!!!! done with this shit

↳ charli_grant me too couldn’t see that shit show for an extra day

↳ y/n_y/l/n grace wasn’t that bad..

↳ charli_grant … wasn’t talking about grace

celinbizet she’s stolen my bestie

↳ graceclinton_x don’t worry, you can be the third wheel :)

↳ celinbizet fuck you grace clinton

bethanyengland4 all thanks to me, yet again

↳ graceclinton_x i’ve done all the hard work, i’ll give you 50% creds max

A/N made the fic different than i wanted but yeah didn’t have much inspiration

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #engwnt #grace clinton #grace clinton x reader #bethany england #spurs women #tottenham women #charlie grant #celin bizet

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ellecdc · 3 months

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https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFMbHSqg/

I talk like this and people like to make fun of it because of it

Can I request for marauders to defend me and pampering me afterwards. Please, thanks

okay, first of all: people make fun of you? - what are their names? where do they live? tell them I wanna talk..... secondly: thank you for your quick requests after my post! you're my hero <3

poly!wolfstar x reader who has a distinct accent (reader's gender not specified)

CW: bullying, making fun of someone's dialect/speech, swearing, pet names.

You knew there was a chance that the laughter was not at your expense at all. Perhaps they were actually laughing at what you said, not how you said it. Or, perhaps they hadn't even been listening to you at all. But your throat still constricted painfully when you heard the girls a few seats down the table in the Great Hall from you start laughing after you interjected in your boyfriends' conversation.

The girls had been particularly catty with you before, though you weren't entirely sure why; perhaps it was because you were dating two of the most popular boys in school, perhaps it was because you were different, or perhaps it was because that's just the kind of people they were.

You'd heard them make comments about your accent before, and though it was a bit of an insecurity of yours, you tried to let it slide off of your back.

You just didn't understand what the big deal was - especially considering you were attending school in the United Kingdom for heaven's sake; if you drive 30 minutes in any direction, the accent of that region is going to be different!

People in England speak English with a variation of a British accent; people in North America speak English with a variation of an American accent; people in Ireland speak English with an Irish accent; and people from your mother country speak English with their own accent too!

So why was it you who was teased for your inflection?

"You okay, Y/N?" Peter asked you quietly from his place across from you. He may as well have shouted it, however, as the sound of your name with the company of any concern acted like a siren call for your two boyfriends, both of whom immediately dropped their conversation with Marlene and James to turn to you.

"What is it, dolly?" Sirius asked immediately, noticing the slight shine of your eyes. You tried to smile at him and shake your head; you did not want to make a big deal out of this.

"Dovey," Remus chided as he gently nudged you with his elbow. "What's the matter?"

Your eyes inadvertently flit to the girls down the table before you turned back to your boyfriends and Sirius' eyes darkened.

"Did they say something to you?" He asked gruffly.

"No! No, please, I'm fine." You begged.

The sound of voices mimicking your pronunciation permeated the air as they repeated your words.

"Oi!" Remus called harshly - so completely unlike his usual calm demeanour.

"What the hell is your problem?" Sirius added.

The girls, not showing any signs of shame waved the boys off "oh come on, it was just a joke! Y/N knows that."

"You're right, you are a fucking joke." Sirius spat as he stood from the table and gathered his book bag. "Come on dollface, we're leaving."

Remus stood as well and helped you from your place at the table. Your face was so hot from embarrassment and the blood rushing to your head left a ringing in your ears. As you left the hall, you failed to notice the shouting from James, Marlene and the others in your defence.

The first few tears fell as you were ushered to Gryffindor tower. Neither boy said anything as you walked - Sirius clearly trying to shake off his rage for your benefit, and Remus keeping a steadying hand on the small of your back the whole way there.

By the time you got to the boys dorm, Sirius let out a shuddering breath as he dropped his bag and turned to you as he opened his arms.

"Come 'ere sweets." he called to you, and you immediately fell into his waiting embrace.

Remus followed up behind you and soon, you were in the middle of a Sirius-Remus sandwich as they rubbed soothingly at your sides and peppered kisses on your head.

"You know they're wankers, right?" Remus finally asked.

You snorted at him before nodding against Sirius' chest.

"We love your voice, and your accent, and your jokes. We can't get enough of it, baby." Sirius added.

"Stop." You moaned.

"It's true!" Remus interjected, before Sirius continued.

"Honest, I almost told James to shut his fucking mouth 'cause I couldn't hear by sweet lovie over all of his yapping. You're always on me about being rude, though, so I bit my tongue. You're welcome."

You chuckled at that, and you swore could feel both boys smile above you.

"There you are; I missed that sound." Remus said, punctuated by a kiss to your temple.

"I have some studying to do, but I was wondering if you could read my textbook to me while I took notes?" Sirius asked you. You looked up expecting to see a smirk on his face but were surprised to see a faint blush dusting his cheeks and a shy smile on his mouth.

"Wait, really?" You asked incredulously.

He huffed a laugh but held strong. "Yes, really! I wasn't kidding; I love the sound of your voice."

"Maybe later you can read my novel to me too?" Remus asked shyly from behind you.

You couldn't help but laugh at the two of them. Whether they were just appeasing you or not, you couldn't help but admit the sound of you reading to them for the rest of the afternoon sounded really nice.

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yvain · 4 months

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Women writers of the Victorian era regarded the fairy tale as a dormant literature of their own. When Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre hears hoofbeats approaching her in the dark, ice-covered Hay Lane, "memories of nursery stories" immediately flood her mind, especially the recollection of "a North-of-England" monster capable of assuming several bestial forms. But the beastly apparition Jane expects turns out to be Rochester, the "master" whom she promptly causes to fall off his horse and who will eventually become her thrall. Rochester himself soon shows his own conversance with, and respect for, powers he associates with the magical women of traditional fairy tales. "When you came on me in Hay Lane last night," he tells Jane, "I thought unaccountably of fairy tales, and had half a mind to demand whether you had bewitched my horse. I am not sure yet. Who are your parents?" When Jane replies that she is parentless, Rochester endows her with a supernatural ancestry. Surely, he insists, she must have been "waiting for [her] people," the fairies who hold their revels in the moonlight: "Did I break one of your rings, that you spread the damned ice on the causeway?"

Here and elsewhere in Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë takes even more seriously than her two characters do the potency of the female fairy-tale tradition to which she has them refer. Karen E. Rowe, who has so ably written on that tradition, was the first to show how fully saturated Jane Eyre is with patterns drawn from major folktales such as "Cinderella," "Sleeping Beauty," "Blue Beard," and, as a prime analogue for Jane's developing relationship with the homely Rochester, from "Beauty and the Beast," the 1756 Kunstmärchen (or literary fairy tale) adapted and popularized by Madame Le Prince de Beaumont.

Nina Auerbach, Forbidden Journeys: Fairy Tales and Fantasies by Victorian Women Writers

#jane eyre #gothic literature #fairy tales #nina auerbach #charlotte brontë #readings #*

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months

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Shy

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

Summary: You still get shy around your girlfriend

The move was a long time in the making.

You bled North London, making your senior debut at just seventeen for Arsenal. You came straight up through the academy with Leah. You eat, lived and slept Arsenal and yet...

Barcelona was where you found yourself now.

They'd been chasing you for years, trying to get your pen on paper. You'd turned them down every time up until now.

It broke your heart to leave Arsenal but it was for the best.

Barcelona got what they wanted, three years of world class defence from you and you got what you wanted, to finally move in with your girlfriend.

Aitana was perfect. You'd met at a friendly years ago and really hit it off. Five years later and you both knew that the long-distance portion of your love was coming to a close.

There wasn't even a question of who was going to move. You may have bled North London but you were happy to trade rainy England for sunny Spain.

It felt a bit like the honeymoon stage again when you could barely keep your hands off of each other. Just a tiny brush of her hand against yours made you feel all tingly inside and you kept smiling at her like a loon, unable to wipe it off your face.

"You're disgusting," Lucy commented as you sat in the break room, head propped up on your fist as you stared longingly across the room," I've never met anyone more smitten before. You know you live with her, right? It's not too scary to talk to her, I hope."

You looked down bashfully, cheeks aflame.

Lucy had been leading the charge on teasing you about Aitana. You couldn't help that your girlfriend still made you feel like a blushing school girl.

"She's busy. I don't want to interrupt her," You replied, turning away to try and hide your embarrassment."

"Busy," Keira scoffed," She's talking to Mapi and Ingrid. That's hardly busy."

"They're having a conversation. People shouldn't invite themselves into conversations. It's rude."

"So you're just going to pine from afar?" Lucy laughed. She reached forward and pinched your cheek, ruffling your hair when you forcefully pulled away. "God, what are you twelve?"

You had a retort on the tip of your tongue but it died instantly when Aitana turned around.

She smiled at you and waved.

You waved back and looked down bashfully.

Lucy made gagging noises.

"Leave me alone!" You complained," Can't you go and bother someone else?"

"But you make it so easy." She flicked you away with her hand. "Go on then, lover girl. Try not to just stare and dribble down your top."

You flipped her off as you went, ignoring the way Keira was making kissy faces behind your back.

"Hi," You said softly, hyper aware of the red sheen to your cheeks.

"Hi," Aitana said back, patting the spot next to her.

You sat and moved to rest your head on her shoulder while Aitana's hand immediately gripped yours, lacing your fingers together tightly.

"You two are so gross," Mapi said," You're like little kids on their first date."

Unlike with Lucy, you didn't feel confident enough to argue with Mapi. You'd played on the national team with Lucy for years. You knew how to deal with her but, with Aitana's teammates, you felt it was probably better to just stay silent and not make eye contact.

"Just because we still have chemistry doesn't mean it's a personal attack on you," Aitana replied.

Her thumb gently stroked circles on your hand as she spoke and you melted into a pile of goo then and there.

"Me and Ingrid still have chemistry!" Mapi insisted," Just because we're not pushing our PDA on everybody doesn't mean we don't! You're like horny teenagers."

The permanent blush on your face only got deeper and you tried to hide your face in Aitana's shoulder.

"Look at her!" Mapi continued," She's like a pile of mush!"

"I'm still here," You muttered," I can hear you."

"Are you sure?" Mapi teased," I mean, can you really focus on anything apart from Aitana? God, you both make me feel sick. You're disgustingly in love."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Aitana looked proud at the comparison, puffing out her chest in a way that made your cheeks burn brighter. She dropped a kiss to one of them, nice and firm and you slouched a bit lower in your seat when you accidentally caught Mapi's eye.

"I mean, what are you doing to the poor girl?" She laughed," She looks like a tomato!"

"She's just shy," Aitana said," And that's fine! I love her like this."

You pressed a soft kiss to her neck and whispered for her ears only," I love you too."

#woso x reader #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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