casino monte carlo

flickr

Huayra by Konstantinos
Via Flickr:
Pagani Huayra, Top Marques Monaco 2016

9

Monaco headcanons!

1. Monaco has a pretty house with an amazing view on the sea. At night, she likes to gaze at it through the window, she thinks it’s relaxing.
2. She truly loves casinos, her favorite one is the very famous Casino de Monte-Carlo. She’s an amazing poker player.
3. She has a really nice relation with France. They have a lot of long conversations about many subjects, especially Art since they are both into it.
4. She’s a fashionable woman with elegant tastes. She loves wearing splendid dresses for her nights at the Opera or the Casino.
5. She has sumptuous blond hair. She used to have her hair short just like Grace Kelly who was an icon for her. They had similar features.
6. Monaco’s heart is probably made of gold, she always tries to help people around her and she is a humanitarian.
7. She’s really proud of the International circus festival of Monte-Carlo, she finds it so entertaining. She’s actually a woman with a delightful sense of humor.
8. She’s really attached to her Royal family, they are her family and they share a lot of things. She helps Princess Charlène in her humanitarian work and she loves to sing with Princess Stéphanie.
9. Monaco is a very smart woman, reading is one of their hobbies, which is an interest she shares with France.

Salty headcanons about APH girls.

Written for @engspaweek​ even though I’m “a bit” late. (considering I started writing this for last year’s event) 

  • Pairing: England/Spain. 
  • Rating: T+ 
  • Characters: Aph England, Aph Spain, Aph Portugal, Aph Romano, Aph Austria, etc. 
  • Genre:  Fluff, humor, romance. Kid fic.
  • Other tags: First Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Writer Arthur, Musician Antonio, Mentions of minor character death, Mentions of past drug use, Mama Acosta is a sweetheart, Portugal is a good brother, Verano Azúl unsubtle references. 

  • Summary: 

    And that’s how Arthur ends up standing in the middle of an airport he hadn’t set a foot on in fifteen years, amazed by the emotions the familiar sounds and smells of southern Spain bring back to the surface.

    Summers in blue, under the waves and the skies, memories of the happiest days of his life, his best friend, and the blinding smile of his first love.

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Excerpt from act III as follows:

SUMMERS IN BLUE

[…]

“And this is the last song for today,” Antonio begins, not taking his eyes off Arthur “so I want to dedicate it to an old friend that I haven’t seen in a lifetime. Welcome back, pipsqueak.”

Arthur pouts at the nickname and Antonio laughs. But when his fingers play the first notes, Arthur remembers the song. That same one about their childhood, from his band’s first album. He listens to it, mouthing along the words and Antonio keeps smiling at him from the stage.

There’s a warm feeling growing in Arthur’s chest. When the song ends and the curtain closes, he looks down at his untouched desert, and is pretty sure that, too old for that bullshit or not, he must be blushing. Maybe it’s true what they say; that one never forgets their first love. Because right now, Arthur feels like an awkward early teen again: revolted hormones, uncoordinated limbs and head over heels for his best friend’s brother.

Keep reading

When Prince eventually decided to speak to me, it was in typically dramatic fashion: well after midnight, on a presidential bed in a five-star suite, the Monte Carlo Casino beneath our balcony, the ocean sighing behind us.

It was all rather romantic. He asked if I liked his new song The Most Beautiful Girl In The World. I told him that the lyrics could have come from the goose quill of Shakespeare himself. That seemed to go down well (20 years later, I stand by this).

Then we began discussing music – Funkadelic, Hendrix, Elvis, Public Enemy, the blues, jazz, even Mick Hucknall – and suddenly you couldn’t shut him up.

Two hours later, he was still talking, pacing the room, bouncing on the bed with childlike excitement. After a few hours, we had set the musical world to rights and Prince had got his convoluted point about artistic freedom across. We all went to bed happy.

The following day, we agreed to meet at 5pm on the hotel roof for the cover shoot. Five minutes past six, Prince pitched up.

Andy Earl (legendary photographer) went over to say hello, tripped over a cable and smashed his lights, resulting in broken glass everywhere and prompting Prince to memorably mutter, “Fuck’s goin’ on here?”

The session lasted three minutes in which we got 13 shots, one of Q’s most dramatic cover shots and a fascinating portrait of one of this lifetime’s great artists on a creative crest.

-Prince, Q Magazine (2016 tribute article recalling a 1994 interview and photoshoot)