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canmom · 4 months ago

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Animation Night 189: Nonphotorealistic

There is a funny trend in animation-related terminology to define things by what they aren't. Animation is any technique for creating film that isn't live action. Limited animation is any style of 2D animation that doesn't follow the conventions of Disney's 'full animation' on 1s and 2s - a category that includes a wildly diverse range of approaches and techniques, as this wonderful history by Animation Obsessive describes.

In 3DCG circles, there is a similar term: nonphotorealistic. Which describes, naturally, anything that isn't trying to look like a photograph of a real scene. There has been a real boom in this of late, and just like the other terms, it really doesn't narrow it down very much. Other terms like 'hybrid animation' add a bit more hints.

Of course, if you've been anywhere near animation in the last few years, you'll probably know another term: 'Spiderverse style'.

There is no denying that Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (2018) by Sony Pictures Animation was an absolute landmark for animation. (I wrote about it way back on AN21, focusing more on the cultural angle.) The ludicrously stylish film pretty much set the direction for animation in the 2020s - making a bunch of money and awards and thus finally throwing open the door to 3DCG animation that doesn't look like the style set by Pixar/Dreamworks in the 2000s. Its sequel, Across the Spiderverse (2023), was even more ambitious and successful (despite a troubled production involving a lot of needless crunch). We'll be showing that soon in a Spiderverse double bill so look forward to it!

So perhaps not surprising that when people see the use of graphical styles, 2D elements, limited framerates and the like in 3DCG these days, Spiderverse comes to mind. In its wake have come various films and series that apply these and related techniques: 3DCG animation is more varied than ever, and it's cool.

It isn't really a style, tho.

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Here I'm indebted to youtuber Camwing who has made a nice video overview breaking down the animation of recent movies in this vaguely defined paradigm. Among them we have The Mitchells vs the Machines (2021, also Sony), Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022, Dreamworks), and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem (2023, animated at the French/Canadian studio Mikros animation), and of course over on Netflix you got the wildly popular League of Legends spinoff series Arcane (2021, Fortiche Productions), and the romance film Entergalactic (2022, DNEG), tying in with an album of the same name.

None of these films has exactly the same style, but they all pull from a related bag of tricks. The core techniques are animating on reduced framerates for a 'snappy', high-clarity feeling, the combination of 2D and 3D elements in some fashion, and taking inspiration from traditional media such as paintings or comic books.

For example, Arcane and Entergalactic both use the trick of 2D backgrounds/projecting paintings onto 3D geometry, inhabited by 3D characters with a stylised shader. Arcane is dripping with 2D visual effects. Puss in Boots drops the framerate during its action scenes - the opposite of the old paradigm of full animation, where fast actions would get more frames. Spiderverse draws 2D expressions onto its 3D models to push them further, and is full of all kinds of colourful stylised rendering - screentone effects, kirby dots, outlines, the works.

It's tempting to link this to 2D-in-3D animation, and certainly many of these films apply this technique - this is the major niche where Blender has found its way into industry pipelines. But using 2D isn't mandatory to count here. For example, TMNT Mutant Mayhem has an incredibly striking storybook-painting style, accomplished largely by clever shader work and a strong sense of graphic design. Genndy Tartakovsky's canned 2014 Popeye project was planning to use a ton of 2D-style posing and squash-and-stretch, accomplished largely with rigged 3D models. There are many paths to take!

And mind you, I haven't even covered one of the biggest angles here. Search for nonphotorealistic 3DCG on Youtube and what you'll probably find most is information about cel-shading - aka 'anime style'. This has also advanced considerably in the last few years, with the techniques pioneered by Arc System Works in Guilty Gear such as editing the normals of characters for more precise control over shading, and minute adjustments to break up the mechanical feeling of 3D, becoming widely copied in both games and films. (And particularly, animated porn.)

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Vtubers in particular have really run with this technique, generally speaking using cel-shaded models with edited normals, inverted eyes, etc. etc. to try and get the feeling of an anime character come to life. [You can see a lot of these state of the art techniques if you download Pixiv's free VRoid Studio software and import the model into Blender using the VRM plugin.]

Naturally this kind of cel-shaded approach has found a particular home in Japan. In anime, the biggest champions of it are certainly Studio Orange, whose hybrid approach involves planning out shots with 2D animation before matching them with the rigs. We've covered their adaptation of Houseki no Kuni in great detail on Animation Night 97; their Trigun reboot was perhaps even more popular. But cel-shaded techniques, 3D previs and the like have also made their way into big films like Eva 3.0+1.0 (AN66).

Although this type of rendering aims to recreate the look and feel of 2D animation as much as possible, it always ends up being something new: character models that would be too complex to draw, an ease to 3D movements and camerawork that would be challenging in 2D, and generally a new hybrid style. This is good! 2D animation is already very good at being 2D animation - it's fascinating to see what 3DCG becomes with that inspiration.

So with that brief overview, where does that take us tonight?

I'm not quite ready to do a Spiderverse double bill tonight, so instead the plan is to check out a couple of recent American franchise films that are taking on the new suite of techniques. I've mentioned them up above, but let me introduce them more fully here.

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is a sequel to a fairly unpopular spinoff about a side character of the Shrek franchise (AN75). Not, on its face, very promising - which is why it is all the more striking that I was told on all sorts of sides that I must watch this movie. I'm finally going to make good on that.

The title character is a kind of feline musketeer type, now facing the end of his swashbuckling career as he's lost 8 of his 9 lives. Not wanting to hang up his hat, he goes on a quest to restore them. What makes it stand out its the action scenes, which go all in on the anime-influenced, extreme perspective and lighting, limited framerate style that we're discussing above. Apparently it looks sick as shit.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem is a fresh reboot of the venerable TMNT franchise, which pretty much describes itself in the title: four turtles (named after Renaissance painters, of course!) live in a sewer as ninjas, led by their aging master who is a rat. Starting as a comic book, it became one of the iconic toyline-driven TV shows of the 80s - but it's still going! Indeed, Turtles has been on a roll of late (at least going by animator scuttlebutt), with Australian studio Flying Bark Productions turning a lot of heads with their neo-Kanada School style (and for really stretching the definition of 'storyboard').

This new film takes a different approach to the bombastic action of Rise. It focuses on a new origin story for the turtles, telling a kind of coming of age story - but what makes it unique is the animation style and cinematography. Cinéma vérité is not a phrase you really expect to be associated with ninja turtles, but the film seems to really go all out in a way you wouldn't really expect from a franchise movie, shooting the young turtles in a handheld style and focus heavily on character. Marcel Reinhard's shader work, allowing the animators to isolate lights to specific objects and characters and introducing graphical elements of cross-hatching, stippling, etc. etc. to the lighting, gives it a uniquely painting-like feeling, augmented by a lot of 2D creativity in lighting and effects.

Turtles has never really been my thing, but this film looks unique enough that I really want to see it - and I hear it's a good film too.

So that's our bill for tonight! Puss and Turtles. Let's see what the big studios have been cooking of late...

Animation Night 189 will be starting around 10pm UK time (roughly three hours hence) and carrying on til about 2-3am same! We'll be on twitch.tv/canmom as usual. Hope to see you there!

#animation #animation night #Youtube

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coochiequeens · 1 month ago

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On the 35th anniversary of The École Polytechnique massacre never forget the 14 women who were killed for being women in science

The École Polytechnique massacre (French: tuerie de l'École polytechnique), also known as the Montreal massacre, was an antifeminist mass shooting that occurred on December 6, 1989 at the École Polytechnique de Montréal in Montreal, Quebec. Fourteen women were murdered; another ten women and four men were injured.

Perpetrator Marc Lépine, armed with a legally obtained Ruger Mini-14 semi-automatic rifle and hunting knife, entered a mechanical engineering class at the École Polytechnique. He ordered the women to one side of the classroom, and instructed the men to leave. After claiming that he was "fighting feminism", he shot all nine women in the room, killing six. The shooter then moved through corridors, the cafeteria, and another classroom, specifically targeting women, for just under 20 minutes. He killed eight more women before ending his own life. In total, 14 women were killed, and 14 others were injured.

The massacre is now widely regarded as an anti-feminist attack and representative of wider societal violence against women; the anniversary of the massacre is commemorated as the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women. After the attack, Canadians debated various interpretations of the events, their significance, and the shooter's motives. Other interpretations emphasized the shooter's abuse as a child or suggested that the massacre was the isolated act of a madman, unrelated to larger social issues

The incident led to more stringent gun control laws in Canada, and increased action to end violence against women. It also resulted in changes in emergency services protocols to shootings, including immediate, active intervention by police. These changes were later credited with minimizing casualties during incidents in Montreal and elsewhere. The massacre remained the deadliest mass shooting in Canada until the 2020 Nova Scotia attacks over 30 years later.[4]

Contents

Timeline

Sometime after 4 p.m. on December 6, 1989, Marc Lépine arrived at the building housing the École Polytechnique, an engineering school affiliated with the Université de Montréal, armed with a Ruger Mini-14 rifle and a hunting knife.[5] He had purchased the gun less than a month earlier on November 21 in a Checkmate Sports store in Montreal. He had told the clerk that he was going to use it to hunt small game.[6] He had been in and around the École Polytechnique building at least seven times in the weeks leading up to December 6.[5]

The perpetrator first sat in the office of the registrar on the second floor for a while, where he was seen rummaging through a plastic bag. He did not speak to anyone, even when a staff member asked if she could help him.[2] He then left the office and was seen in other parts of the building before entering a second-floor mechanical engineering class of about sixty students at about 5:10 p.m.[7] After approaching the student giving a presentation, he asked everyone to stop everything and ordered the women and men to opposite sides of the classroom. No one moved at first, believing it to be a joke until he fired a shot into the ceiling.[8][9]

Lépine then separated the nine women from the approximately fifty men and ordered the men to leave.[10][9] He asked the women whether they knew why they were there; instead of replying, a student asked who he was. He answered that he was fighting feminism.[9][11] One of the students, Nathalie Provost, protested that they were women studying engineering, not feminists fighting against men or marching to prove that they were better. He responded by opening fire on the students from left to right, killing six—Hélène Colgan, Nathalie Croteau, Barbara Daigneault, Anne-Marie Lemay, Sonia Pelletier, and Annie St-Arneault—and wounding three others, including Provost.[9][11] Before leaving the room, he wrote the word "shit" twice on a student project.[10]

The gunman continued into the second-floor corridor and wounded three students before entering another room where he twice attempted to shoot a female student. When his weapon failed to fire, he entered the emergency staircase where he was seen reloading his gun. He returned to the room he had just left, but the students had locked the door; he failed to unlock it with three shots fired into the door. Moving along the corridor, he shot at others, wounding one, before moving towards the financial services office, where he shot and killed Maryse Laganière through the window of the door she had just locked.[12][11]

The perpetrator next went down to the first-floor cafeteria, in which about 100 people were gathered. He shot nursing student Barbara Maria Klucznick near the kitchens and wounded another student, and the crowd scattered. Entering an unlocked storage area at the end of the cafeteria, the gunman shot and killed Anne-Marie Edward and Geneviève Bergeron, who were hiding there. He told a male and female student to come out from under a table; they complied and were not shot.[13]: 30 [11]

The shooter then walked up an escalator to the third floor where he shot and wounded one female and two male students in the corridor. He entered another classroom and told the men to "get out", shooting and wounding Maryse Leclair, who was standing on the low platform at the front of the classroom, giving a presentation.[13]: 26–27 He fired on students in the front row and then killed Maud Haviernick and Michèle Richard who were trying to escape the room, while other students dived under their desks.[11][13]: 30–31 The killer moved towards some of the female students, wounding three of them and killing Annie Turcotte. He changed the magazine in his weapon and moved to the front of the class, shooting in all directions. At this point, the wounded Leclair asked for help; the gunman unsheathed his hunting knife and stabbed her three times, killing her. He took off his cap, wrapped his coat around his rifle, exclaimed, "Oh shit", and then killed himself with a shot to the head, 20 minutes after having begun his attack.[14][13]: 31–32 About 60 unfired cartridges remained in the boxes he carried with him.[14][13]: 26–27

After briefing reporters outside, Montreal Police director of public relations Pierre Leclair entered the building and found his daughter Maryse's stabbed body.[15][16]

The Quebec and Montreal governments declared three days of mourning.[15] A joint funeral for nine of the women was held at Notre-Dame Basilica on December 11, 1989, and was attended by Governor General Jeanne Sauvé, Prime Minister Brian Mulroney, Quebec premier Robert Bourassa, and Montreal mayor Jean Doré, along with thousands of other mourners.

The Victims

Geneviève Bergeron (born 1968), civil engineering student

Hélène Colgan (born 1966), mechanical engineering student

Nathalie Croteau (born 1966), mechanical engineering student

Barbara Daigneault (born 1967), mechanical engineering student

Anne-Marie Edward (born 1968), chemical engineering student

Maud Haviernick (born 1960), materials engineering student

Maryse Laganière (born 1964), budget clerk in the École Polytechnique's finance department

Maryse Leclair (born 1966), materials engineering student

Anne-Marie Lemay (born 1967), mechanical engineering student

Sonia Pelletier (born 1961), mechanical engineering student

Michèle Richard (born 1968), materials engineering student

Annie St-Arneault (born 1966), mechanical engineering student

Annie Turcotte (born 1969), materials engineering student

Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz (born 1958), nursing student

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ikjun · 5 months ago

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Carlos Alcaraz Garfia receives the Olympic silver medal in men's singles on Court Philippe-Chatrier at Stade Roland Garros, 4th August, 2024. This is the first silver medal for Spain in men's singles since 1996 as well as in this century after Rafael Nadal received gold in 2008 and Pablo Carreño Busta received bronze in 2020/21. It also marks Alcaraz's first Olympic medal at his first games after winning the Us Open in 2022 and then the French Open and Wimbledon in less than a year.

#carlos alcaraz #tennis #tennisedit #olympics #paris 2024 #*gifs

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meazalykov · 6 months ago

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invisible string theory

lena oberdorf x uswnt!bayern!reader

part one - part two - part three

summary: you're with her now, but you've known of her for longer than that.

warnings: long chapter, suggestive content

back in the united states, you were heartbroken.

due to the contract that gotham had with lyon, there wasn’t a possibility that lyon could permanently sign you. the french club tried to sign you for another loan year with a mandatory buy option, but gotham didn’t want that.

so now you’re here, dressed in a gotham kit watching the team play the chicago red stars from the bench.

its the 70th minute and you had your arms crossed sitting on the bench. your national teammate, mallory, and your other friend midge sat beside you after coming off minutes before.

“my ankle is killing me, i might have to go to medic after this game ends.” mallory hissed as she held onto her ankle. sometime after halftime, a chicago red stars player kicked the back of mallory’s ankle on accident.

“you should, its bruised!” you say as you observe her ankle from your seat, your hands still crossed together as midge decides to hold your right arm in comfort.

midge turns her head and noticed the coach, yes the coach that's not happy with you, coming your way.

“y/n.” midge tapped your shoulder. you looked to your right to see the coach looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“y/n, you should warm up, you’re going on in the 80th minute.” the coach says before going back to observe the game.

your eyebrows knitted together before you quickly took off your windbreaker jacket. being a benchwarmer the last two games since coming back from france was something you were starting to get used to until another club put in their offers.

the coach has received a bunch of hate in the media because of you. which kind of soccer coach wouldn’t start one of the best players in the world? well, a coach with an agenda– that's for sure.

being subbed into the game five minutes later, you already had the ball at your feet. as you run across the pitch and dribble pass a few chicago players, you pass up to carli lloyd.

the striker takes the shot but it deflects off of the post. luckily, the ball landed back on your blue cleat and you tapped the ball into the goal. opening up the score 1-0 for gotham before the 90th minute.

knowing your situation at gotham, you didn’t celebrate as happily as you did back when you scored at lyon. all you did was put your hands up high as your teammates gathered around to hug you.

“i’m pretty sure that this is a good moment after being back from winning the champions league in europe.” a commentator says as you go back into the starting position as an attacking midfielder.

“that’s my girl!” you heard midge yell from the benches. you look over to see her and mallory with the brightest smiles as you nod your head at them.

you loved your teammates, but you wanted to be at another club more than anything.

after the game that afternoon, your agent called you.

she said that many clubs in europe wanted to sign you– permanently.

that's all you wanted, you didn’t want to take a loan deal and attach yourself to another club just to come back here again. you wanted a new permanent home. it's 2020 and the transfer window in europe will close soon.

she said that psg was the first to put in an offer for you, but you immediately declined. somehow, you felt loyal to lyon and didn’t want to join paris.

the next clubs she mentioned were real madrid, manchester united, ajax, and aston villa. you declined on those as well, not really seeing yourself in those clubs.

even though bayern munich wasn’t the last club on the list, you were interested in that offer once your agent mentioned it.

your agent mentioned that the coach personally wanted you at the club, and the club offered a good amount of benefits.

so, after a few days of deciding, you were in germany signing a contract with the bavarian club until 2025.

over the months, you adjusted to the club perfectly. you got along with the girls, made a promise that you’ll learn to speak german, and your new best friend sydney was there to guide you.

in november 2020, you were in the starting lineup to play against wolfsburg.

this is your first time going up against the green team since you were with the french club, so you were ready to face them again.

as you were standing in the tunnel, you talked with lineth beerensteyn about what to expect. this is your first start with the club, since the coach wanted you to get familiar with the games first. this was fair and something you went through with lyon as well.

“its nice to face them again.” you respond to lineth after she asked you how you felt about wolfsburg. she smirks at you before pinching your shoulder.

“oh yeah– i forgot we have a champions league winner on our hands.” she laughed. you rolled your eyes playfully as you shook your head.

“don’t forget about the world cup.” sydney lohmann joins in. your jaw dropped as you shook your head again.

“okay let's not talk about me, lets talk about the upcoming match” you say.

“you’re right you’re right,” lineth laughs at her teasing towards you, “games against wolfsburg get pretty intense when you’re with bayern. they’re the “rivals” or whatever you want to say.” she continued.

“just make sure that you take advantage of any opportunity you see. some of the midfielders will go for your ankles so i’d watch out for that too. things can get heated” the dutch finished.

you nodded your head as you observed the wolfsburg players around the tunnel. some, like svenja and dominique, patted your back since you’re happy to see you again but in the bundesliga.

before you walked ahead to talk to sydney, you felt a hand on your left shoulder.

“so– what brings you here?” you look over your shoulder to see lena.

honestly, you forgot about her after the champions league final. you have her jersey in your apartment along with other players' jerseys you’ve traded with in the past, but things were stressful for you when you went back home.

“beating you again.” you teased. lena placed her hand over her heart before giggling,

“not that! i mean it's nice to see you in this league.” she says.

“oh danke– sorry– the adjustment here was easy thankfully.” you smile.

lena wraps her arm around your shoulder, causing you to feel warm on the inside, does she know what she is doing to you?

“that’s good– it would’ve been nice to see you in our jersey though.” lena whispers. you look over at her, your voice caught into your throat.

“um- no thanks. i would miss getting my ankles broken by you if we were on the same team.” you tease. she unwraps her arm from your body, and pats you on the shoulders with a smirk, before going back to where the wolfsburg substitutes are without saying anything else.

“y/n.. how do you know lena?” sydney walks up to you with her eyebrows knitted together. she looked curious, smiling, as you crossed your arms together.

“we met during some adidas event at the world cup. well- i met giulia actually but lena just happened to be there and-”

“and you guys are dating? why didn’t you tell-”

“woah syd slow down! we aren’t dating?” you cut her off.

sydney smirks at you before laughing, realizing what the conversation turned into.

“i’m sorry. you guys looked very flirty and familiar with each other.” sydney said as she rested her arm on your shoulder. you shrugged the other shoulder.

“I mean the last time I talked to her was at the champions league final last season. she's cute but i don’t know if she even sees me that way?” you whisper in sydneys ear.

you’re comfortable talking about this with sydney. she’s become your best friend since arriving in germany, but it feels like you’ve known her for longer than that.

“the way that she looked at you, i would say she does.” sydney comments.

you were going to question that but everyone started to lineup in the tunnel to head out. so, all you could do is wonder with your thoughts as you walked out to start the game.

a year later, you were waiting at the airport in wolfsburg after a last minute decision.

after that game in november 2020, lena and you started following each other on instagram. the both of you got each other's phone numbers and have been in touch everyday since.

due to not being on the same club team, or national team, you didn’t see lena much– if not at all.

randomly, as you were in your kitchen hours before– lena texted you.

obi

we should go to this new restaurant that opened up downtown wolfsburg

y/n

how? i’m in munich..

obi

check your email.

when you checked your email, you saw that she sent you a confirmation and a plane ticket for wolfsburg. you jaw dropped in the middle of your kitchen as you were finishing making a few pastries for the bayern girls.

y/n

did you really buy me a plane ticket to see you?

y/n

you’re insane

y/n

the flight is in three hours? you’re eager

y/n

where am i supposed to stay at?

obi

yes i did

obi

just for you

obi

you can stay with me. i have a spare room

you stood outside of the wolfsburg airport with a carry on bag waiting for lena’s car. luckily, there is no training or games scheduled since its thanksgiving break– so you had a day or two to spend with lena.

after talking for a year, you guys weren't official. its clear that you are in the “talking stage” with the wolfsburg midfielder, but you hoped that she will be your girlfriend soon– even with the distance.

as you looked down at your phone, watching a tiktok video that popped up on your fyp, you heard a loud car beep their horn.

ignoring that your heart nearly jumped out of your chest in fear, you looked up to see lena getting out of the drivers side of her car.

“obi!” you say as you grab your carry on bag. the german smiles brightly as she held her arms out for you.

when you hugged her taller body, the nerves in your stomach eased away. the warmth of her body and her coconut scent seemed to give you peace in those short seconds.

“hi liebe! how was your flight?” she whispered in your ear, not breaking the hug just yet.

her proximity to your ear made you feel something that you’ve never felt before. something you couldn’t say out loud.

“my flight was smooth, i had a row to myself.” you smile as you looked at lena’s blushed face.

you weren’t surprised about the small amount of people on the flight, it was an 6pm flight and plane rides from munich to wolfsburg weren’t long at all.

“that’s perfect. here, give me that.” lena held her hands out.

you were confused before you noticed that she was pointing at your bag. you gave her your carry on, which she gently put in the trunk of her car as you got into the passenger seat.

when you guys arrived to her apartment, you were quick to pull your adidas slides off and sit on her couch. lena smiled, happy that you made yourself comfortable in her space.

“it’s late, so i’m not sure if you want to do much.” lena says.

pulling your phone out of your pocket, seeing that it just hit 21:00, you agree.

“we could watch a movie.” you suggested.

“we can, but can it not be those horror movies you love seeing?” lena asked.

as much as you guys had in common, movies weren’t one of them.

lena loved disney animated movies and comedies, you loved horror films along with star wars.

“you know what we should watch!? we should watch the phantom menace! it's not horror!” you smirked.

lena rolled her eyes playfully, remembering a phone conversation you guys had in the past.

“I remember when you said that you wanted me to get you started on the star wars trilogies. it's a win-win for the both of us,” you stood up from the couch and held lena’s hands with your own. the close proximity made lena’s face turn a shade of pink.

“i get to watch star wars, and you get to watch a disney movie– since star wars is owned by disney.” you came closer, just inches from her nose hitting yours.

she's taller than you, so she looked down at you slightly with a questioning look.

“sure.” she says, distracted.

your boldness seemed to go away the same second that you stopped talking. your breathing slowed as you realized what you’ve done.

lena’s eyes looked down to your lips as you did the same with her.

the both of you are alone in her apartment, you realize that no-one would be there to distract you if she kisses you.

you didn’t mind.

the german moves her arms around your lower waist as you lean in to kiss her. as you made contact with her lips, your hands moved to the back of her neck.

the kissing got heated quickly. lena was clearly the dominant one in the situation as she lifted you up and your legs were around her waist, walking you to her bedroom.

and you know how things went afterwards!

before you left to go back to munich two days later, lena asked you to be her girlfriend.

you said yes, happy but sad to leave her so soon.

after another few months, it's july 2022.

unfortunately for you, you were out on a three month injury. your hamstring teared while you were on international break with the uswnt– so you were free to return to germany.

however, you didn’t go to germany. you wanted to support lena and the rest of your bayern girls at the euros in england.

you’ve seen the prep that your girlfriend lena has put into this competition. due to the distance, you don’t see her everyday– but you guys have perfected the routine of seeing each other when off-days align.

on the sidelines of the final with germany against england, you wore the green germany kit with some levi 90s jeans. of course, the kit had lena’s last name on the back.

some people might be offended that you, an american player of their national team, is wearing another countries kit– but you know the majority wouldn’t care, and neither did you.

lena deserved to be here at this moment you thought. there was no way that you weren’t going to support her beside her family,

“so, how long are you supposed to be off the pitch?” you looked over to see lena’s father speak to you, his german accent stronger than lena’s. the first half of the final ended and it's nil-nil and it could be anyone’s game.

you wore a black brace around your leg where the injury occurred, so you figured that he was talking about that.

“oh, i won’t be playing until the start of next season. so a couple of months– i have a grade 2 tear in my hamstring.” you respond, smiling as lena’s father nodded his head in understanding.

“you’ll be back out there soon!” lena’s mother spoke with encouragement. you smiled, happy that your girlfriend had sweet parents that treat you as if you were their own.

after talking to her family for longer, the start of the second half comes along. you’re anxious as both teams are keeping possession with the ball.

watching other teams in person is making you miss being out on the pitch playing.

all thoughts aside, your jaw drops as you watch ella toone from england put the ball in at the 62nd minute.

lena got a yellow card moments before for a tackle on your friend, georgia, who is coming to bayern soon. so, lena was already in a disappointed mood before this moment.

as the substitutes for germany and england were starting to come on, you started to feel anxious. you hated this feeling for teams that aren’t your own, but this happens everytime you invest a couple of hours into watching others– especially your girlfriend who you want to see with the euro trophy.

when lina magul scored the equalizer for germany, you put your hands up and clapped as you witnessed the german girls huddle around in a big group hug.

“come on obi!” you whisper to yourself, hoping that this was a fairytale where lena would score the winner for her country.

unfortunately for you, germany’s team, and the fans– chloe kelly taps the ball into the net in the 110th minute– giving england the lead in extra time.

deep down, you knew that was it. you looked ahead at lena with sadness in your eyes. however, you wanted to keep hope.

after the game, seeing lena accept the young player award with tears in her eyes broke your heart. this is something that you’ve never gone through before from the outside, since usually you are the player that needs the comfort of a non-player after a loss.

after thirty minutes of the award process– with the hard watch of england lifting the trophy you wanted lena to lift– lena pushed herself to walk towards her family and you.

at first, you thought she was going to go to her parents for a hug. you stepped back as you made sure that her parents were slightly in front of you.

lena, with dried tears on her face, looked at you and held her hands out. being at the front row before the field, you accepted her embrace– holding her with as much as possible.

she picks you up and pulls you over the barcade, making sure that your leg would be okay, so you’re standing on the pitch now.

“i know you might not want to hear this right now– but you did amazing throughout the tournament. i am so proud of you.” you whisper into her ear.

her strong arms squeeze your waist, a silent thank you that you’ll take it as. she holds you for another minute, knowing that what she needs is your love and reassurance.

as you lift her head up from your shoulder to look at you, she frowns as she closes her eyes. another tear flows down her cheeks but you’re quick to wipe it away–

“hey! don’t beat yourself up. you were the best player of the tournament, and i’m not just saying that because i’m your girlfriend.” you reassure.

you know what lena is thinking– what did i do wrong? was there anything else i could’ve done? did the yellow card send the team into failure? those thoughts were not unfamiliar to you when you lost games, but you’ve never played in a euros final.

“danke.” she smiles slightly.

part three here

#lena oberdorf #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso soccer #gerwnt #dfb frauen

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kathlare · 1 month ago

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snowed in secrets

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando Norris opens up to his friends during a ski trip in the French Alps, revealing that he's in a serious relationship with Amelie Dayman. After years of complicated history, Lando is ready to commit fully this time, despite the teasing and skepticism from his friends.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

December 8th, 2023 - French Alpes, France

Lando Norris adjusted the ski goggles on top of his head as he trudged through the snow, making his way back to the cozy chalet where he and his friends had gathered after a long day on the slopes. The sun had started to set behind the towering French Alps, casting a soft, golden glow across the snow-covered mountains. His muscles ached from the day’s skiing, but the thrill of the descent kept him grinning.

Max Fewtrell and Pietra Pilao, along with a few other friends, were already in the chalet, lounging around the fireplace, enjoying some après-ski drinks. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as Martin Garrix, who had been off skiing on his own, rejoined the group.

Lando kicked off his boots, walked over to the bar, and grabbed a drink. He felt a mixture of excitement and nerves in his chest. After the drama of the past, especially with Amelie, he was ready to tell his friends the truth. The truth about them—about him and her.

—You guys are looking way too cozy,— Lando said, plopping down on the couch next to Max, who was smirking knowingly.

Max gave Lando a look that could only be described as a mixture of skepticism and amusement. —Oh, we’re cozy. I thought you were still too busy skiing to come hang out with us.—

Lando chuckled. —Yeah, yeah, just needed to blow off some steam. I’ve got something to tell you guys, though. Something serious.—

Pietra raised an eyebrow from across the room, her curiosity piqued. —You’re not pregnant, are you?—

Martin laughed from his spot at the bar. —Please, no more surprises like that.—

Lando rolled his eyes. —No, no. I’m not pregnant.— He paused for a moment, looking at each of them. Max was grinning, clearly sensing something was coming. He had already caught wind of the situation, but the others? They had no clue. —I’m dating someone,— he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

—What?— Max said, eyes widening in mock shock. —You? Actually dating someone?—

Lando shot him a look. —I know, right? But this time… it’s real. Like, serious.— He threw in a small, dramatic pause, letting the tension build in the room. Martin was laughing under his breath, already knowing Lando wasn’t the type to drop such a bombshell lightly.

Max grinned. —Alright, so who’s the lucky lady?—

Lando couldn’t help but feel his face flush a little. —Amelie,— he said softly, his lips curling into a small, mischievous smile. —You know, Amelie Dayman.—

The room fell silent for a moment. Pietra blinked, Max’s jaw dropped, and Martin nearly spilled his drink.

—Wait, Amelie?— Pietra asked, her eyes wide. —The singer?—

Lando nodded, leaning back on the couch, the familiar warmth of their inside joke and the teasing that was about to come settling in his chest. He could already hear the laughter and the inevitable banter coming his way.

—The one and only,— he said, not bothering to hide his grin now.

Max, ever the tease, shot up from his seat, pointing at Lando as if he had just uncovered the world’s most shocking secret. —Holy shit, mate, you’re really doing this, huh? After all that mess back in 2020?—

Lando groaned, rolling his eyes. —Can we not bring up the past right now?—

Pietra, who was still processing this new revelation, joined in, a wicked smile creeping across her face. —Wait, wait, you’re telling me you’re serious about this now? After everything? I thought you guys were like... a once-in-a-lifetime fling thing, y’know? The messiest situation in the history of love triangles, no offense, Lando.—

Lando laughed but couldn't help but look a little guilty. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to play it cool. —Yeah, yeah, I know it was a disaster. But this time it’s different, okay? We’re not playing games. I actually went to New York to have the “let’s do this for real” talk.—

Max raised an eyebrow. —So this wasn’t like a “oh we’re back together and everything’s great” kinda thing?—

—No, no, no,— Lando quickly clarified, his hands in the air as if to ward off any more misinterpretations. —I’m saying this time, we’re both actually committed. Like, this isn’t just some flirty situation where we don’t talk for months and pretend it didn’t happen.—

Martin leaned against the bar, taking in the whole situation with a smirk. —I mean, honestly, I wasn’t sure how long you’d last with someone like Amelie. You two are like a walking, talking hurricane of chaos when you’re together, always so on-and-off. But I guess I should’ve known when I saw you texting her the other day. Thought you were being a little too secretive for my taste.—

Lando gave Martin a glare. —It’s not like that. But I get it, you all think I’m an idiot. But this... This feels right, okay? It feels real. Not like the first time.—

Pietra, still processing the information, looked at Lando with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. —Okay, okay. I get it now. So, what are you saying? You guys are like, official now? Like posting Instagram official and everything?—

Lando shifted awkwardly in his seat. —Well, no, not exactly. We’re keeping it on the down-low for now. We’ve been sneaking around, yeah. I don’t think we’re ready for the whole world to know yet. But, yeah, we’re serious. We’re not hiding anymore. I guess you could say we’re “secretly public” or whatever the hell that means.—

Martin shot him a look. —Ahh, so you’re keeping it low-key for now. I get that. But... if you were to tell me you were that serious about her, you’d have to tell me everything. So... what’s the deal with the whole Mexico thing? I heard some whispers about that. You guys getting drunk and kissing or something?—

Lando’s cheeks flushed bright red, and he threw a pillow at Max’s head. —Mate, you seriously want to dig up all that shit right now?—

Pietra, ever the gossip queen, leaned in. —No, now I need to know. What happened? What’s the Mexico story?—

Lando sighed dramatically, glancing at the other friends in the room who were now keenly listening in. —Okay, okay. Fine. We... we got a bit too drunk, and we kissed. And then things escalated. But we didn’t plan on anything coming out of it. It was just... a moment. And then we talked. We talked a lot.—

Max, looking far too pleased with himself, leaned back with a satisfied smirk. —So it’s like... a drunken moment turned into a full-blown relationship. Classic, mate.—

Martin laughed. —You’ve got yourself a real messy one there, Lan. But hey, at least you’re not hiding it anymore.—

Lando groaned, rubbing his temples. —God, I knew this would be a circus. But I really do like her. It’s more than just the physical attraction. I mean, yeah, she’s gorgeous, but there’s this connection between us, you know? It’s different this time. Like, really different.—

—Right, so no more games? This is the real deal?— Max asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly still in disbelief.

—Yeah, for real this time,— Lando nodded firmly, though the teasing grin never left his face. —It’s... I don't know, it just feels right. I don’t want to mess this up again. I mean, we’ve been through enough crap already.—

Pietra, now looking a bit more thoughtful, shook her head, half-smiling. —Well, as long as you're serious about it. Because last time... God, I remember you telling me all that stuff about how messy it was and how you couldn’t figure it out. And now you're telling me you went to New York to make it official? That’s a pretty big step, Lando.—

—Yeah, well, I’m not running away this time,— Lando said, his voice a little quieter. —I learned my lesson. I mean, Amelie... she’s not like anyone else I’ve ever been with. It’s not just the media stuff or the drama. It’s... her. She’s just different. She makes me feel like myself, y’know? Like, she doesn’t expect anything other than me just being me. That means a lot.—

Max leaned forward, his expression softening. —Damn, man, that sounds... actually kinda sweet.—

Lando, who had been expecting more teasing, blinked in surprise. —Wait, really? You’re not going to make fun of me?—

—Nah, I’m going to make fun of you,— Max said with a smile, raising his hands in mock surrender. —But I’m happy for you, mate. It’s about time you got your act together. And hey, if you’re serious, then I’m happy to back you up.—

Pietra chuckled, crossing her arms. —I agree. Just... don’t screw it up this time, yeah? You’ve got a reputation for being a bit of a mess when it comes to relationships.—

Lando groaned, but the teasing tone didn’t bother him anymore. —I know, I know. I’ve got a history. But seriously, I’m in it for the long haul this time. I mean, the way we talk, the way we understand each other, it feels right. Like, I’m not just going through the motions anymore.—

Max leaned back, his playful grin still in place. —Alright, alright. We get it, Lando. You’re serious about her. But I still think you two are a walking disaster waiting to happen. Let’s see how long it takes before one of you gets mad at the other and goes radio silent for a week again.—

Lando rolled his eyes, but there was no denying the warmth in his chest. His friends might tease him to no end, but they also had his back. —You guys are lucky I love you, or I’d probably leave you stranded here with no ride back to the hotel. And for the record, it’s not like that. I’m done with all that back-and-forth nonsense.—

Pietra leaned in, her voice teasing but genuine. —Well, good luck, Lando. I’m rooting for you, even if I don’t believe you’ll keep it together for long.—

Max let out a dramatic sigh, standing up and stretching. —Honestly, it’s about time. I’m just glad I won’t have to keep pretending I don’t know who you’re seeing when you disappear off the radar. It’s always so obvious with you, mate.—

Lando smirked. —Yeah, well, I’m not as secretive as I think I am, am I?—

Martin clinked his glass against Lando’s. —No, you’re definitely not. But here’s to hoping you actually make it work this time. Don’t make us have to put on our “I told you so” hats again, alright?—

Lando laughed, taking a sip of his drink. —I’ll do my best. Thanks, guys. Seriously. I know I’ve been a mess in the past, but I’m trying to figure it out. And this time, I think I’ve got it right.—

Max smirked. —Well, we’ll be here to witness it all, mate. We’ll see how long it lasts. But hey, Amelie’s great, so don’t screw it up. I’ll hold you to that. The fans won’t let you forget it if you do.—

Lando shook his head with a laugh. —Thanks for the support, guys. I appreciate it. Now, can we get back to enjoying the rest of this ski trip? Because I really need to stop thinking about my relationship for a minute.—

The group erupted into laughter, but Lando could feel a sense of relief wash over him. The weight of keeping his relationship with Amelie a secret for so long had been wearing on him. But now, with his friends in the know and offering their support, he felt like he could finally breathe. This time, he was ready for whatever came next with Amelie—no matter how messy or chaotic it might get. He was in it for the long haul, and for the first time in a long while, he was genuinely hopeful about what the future held.

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aworldofpattern · 5 months ago

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Team Haiti's opening ceremony uniforms for the 2024 Olympics, designed by Haitian-Italian designer Stella Jean.

The trousers and skirts are printed with 'Passage', an artwork by Haitian artist Philipe Dodard.

'...Stella Jean says she created uniforms on a humble budget for Team Haiti, one of the smallest delegations in the Olympics with just seven athletes...

...The look takes its white, red, and blue hues from the Haitian flag, with the men’s uniform consisting of a light blue jacket, an adaptation of the guayabera shirt worn by men in the Caribbean, vibrant trousers channeling Naïve folk art, and a Fular scarf. The women’s look features a skirt in the same material, paired with a light blue shirt and structured jacket with a cinched waist. Philippe Dodard, an acclaimed Haitian painter, designed the fabric for the trousers and skirt.

Wearing these uniforms at the Paris Olympics takes on an even deeper meaning for Haiti, once known as Saint-Domingue, a French colony that fought for its independence during the Haitian Revolution, the first successful resistance movement led by enslaved people against the French colonial regime from 1971 to 1804. “It’s hugely symbolic,” says Jean, who is Haitian-Italian, adding that she merged Haitian fabrics and motifs with Western silhouettes as “a tool of counter colonization.”

Jean ran into some issues as she worked to create her designs. Export embargoes in Haiti made sourcing chambray, a cotton-like material, for the women’s shirt difficult. “I used one of my dresses that my grandmother gave to me, because we were not able to source it otherwise. I hope she will forgive me because she's not here anymore,” Jean says, joking that her design unintentionally became more sustainable.

Throughout the process, she recognized the rare opportunity to present the world with a positive news story about Haiti, as the country struggles with a recent history of political violence, coups, and the deadly 2020 earthquake. Ongoing violence at the hands of armed gangs has displaced approximately 580,000 people, per U.N. figures.

“Haiti has no materials now. We have nothing to sell to the world. Our strength right now is this intangible richness [from] our deep culture,” Jean says. “We are here, we are joyful, and we will be back on our own two feet again.��...' Time Magazine

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olderthannetfic · 3 months ago

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I'm IWTV-wank-avoidance-asking Anon and it kinda missed me that it would be a wanky topic lol I was trying to see if the show is worth watching. A lot of my mutuals are posting IWTV gifs so I assume it's good, but I was curious if anyone who read the novel would think "Better read the novel". I don't realize an asking-for-rec ask would be wanky, but now that I think about who the writer is, it kinda makes sense. My bad lol

Ahahahaha.

Around here, I don't think anyone is precious enough about Anne Rice to start the genuine version of this wank, but Rice fandom can be... uh... very intense even on top of Rice herself having been the queen of drama.

You know about Red Beans Anne Rice, right?

Many years ago, Anne got all butthurt about a tacky-ass restaurant taking over an abandoned building that she'd had Lestat being emo in in one of the books. Instead of gothic atmosphere, it was now very PINK and LOUD. So she wasted money taking out ads in the local paper as Lestat trying to shame the restaurant owner... at which point a bunch of other restaurant owners also wasted money to respond in newspaper ads saying that they welcomed fellow businesspeople. It all ended in the restaurant's grand opening and people with plates of "Red beans Anne Rice" (i.e. red beans and rice).

Anyway, I read the first book back in the 90s when I was like 15. It's decent from what I remember. The thing that made it iconic when it came out in 1976 was that it was pretty heavily pushing the vampire=drug addict metaphor. This is everywhere in sexy goth sadboi vampire media now, but it wasn't as much of a thing at the time.

It was also very, very gay but in that way where (at least in the first book), nobody really says the word. That meant something in the 70s. Even by the 90s, it wasn't such a big deal, and it's a big nothingburger in the 2020s.

Book 1 is Rice dealing with the death of her child. It's all about suicidal feelings and Catholic weirdness. The main character is Louis, a.k.a. Rice's self-insert (which she confirmed herself).

Books 2 onward are about Lestat's dick.

He becomes a rockstar, vampire-bones the ur vampire, which causes him to mega level up, thus enabling him to thwart her plot to kill all men on earth aside form a few for breeding purposes, bodyswaps so he has a working penis again, fucks a nun, swaps back, gets Louis back by trying to commit suicide and accidentally getting a tan, etc... Much, much later books are about the other bonkers vampires, most of them more in the horny rockstar mold than the sad mommy of dead baby one.

In book 1, Louis is a depressed plantation owner who eats a bunch of his slaves among other fucked up shit. Claudia, their vampire daughter, is a small child who is upset about being stuck as a kid forever. One of the more disturbing parts is when Louis finds out she's fucking adult men. Lestat turns out to be a French nobleman with mommy issues despite Louis thinking he was only pretending to be upper class.

-- The TV series moved the entire plot much later in history, made Louis black, and gave him a spine. Some racists cried about this and some of tumblr cried about how it was offensive to take the plantation owner and make him black instead of doing that with the other one.

The show also made it more overt that Lestat is an abusive jackass boyfriend. This apparently came as a surprise to people with poor reading comprehension. Others have wanked about fans still liking Louis/Lestat instead of Louis/less terrible boyfriends. But... like... It's IWTV. What did they expect?

(So yes, some book fans will be immensely wanky about the show. Ignore them.)

Also, I hear they fuck on the show? Rice's vampires don't have working junk, which we know because Lestat stands in front of an entire wall of mirrors in the most bougie bathroom ever in Akasha's evil lair and discusses how his penis—I mean "The Organ"—no longer does anything.

Also, Armand in the books is the 14-year-old kept boy of a Renaissance painter with a harem of boys or something like that. (It's been a very long time since I read these.) Shit like this never makes it into the adaptations.

If you're curious about the history of vampire media or about a certain kind of Southern gothic shit, sure, read the books, particularly the first one with its radically different tone and much greater historical importance.

The old movie is a decent adaptation of book 1, though it makes it less gay (or at least removes Louis' weird boner for his dead brother) and messes with the ending in a way that would have made sequels veer off from the books. I haven't seen that other old movie with Aaliyah, but it looks like a campy time capsule of baaaad movies of that era.

Anyway, no, you don't need to read the book before watching the show. They changed a massive amount of stuff.

I'm in more of a Chinese media phase right now, but a bunch of friends have watched and said the show is genuinely good.

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37sommz · 3 months ago

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000.⠀⠀NOW PLAYING: soul's anthem [6.9k, angst]. ✼. view: masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. synopsis: michaela has a decision to make. ✼. notes: back to our regularly scheduled programming following the daniel news. angst bc i'm incapable of writing anything else <333 been on my writing grind recently and i'm starting to get attached to my babygirl mick <3 ✼. warnings: mattia binotto, general language, beginning of a breakup?, zak brown jump scare, free fred from breaking his favorite drivers' hearts </3

✼.⠀OCTOBER 30, 2020 — imola, italy › practice day.

Michaela leaned against the garage wall in her race suit, water bottle in hand with her eyes fixed on the busy paddock of the Imola circuit. The candy-apple red of her Alfa Romeo car gleamed under the Italian sun, starkly contrasting the sea of Ferrari fans dressed in their iconic Rosso Corsa. The air was buzzing with the scent of burnt rubber and racing fuel, the sound of running engines echoing through the grandstands as the second Free Practice session drew to a close. As the buzz grew louder, she found herself lost in thought.

Fred Vasseur, her team principal at Alfa Romeo, approached with a stride that seemed more determined than usual. His eyes met hers, and she knew the conversation they were about to have would be pivotal for her career. "Michaela, I know you're tired, but we need to talk." His French accent was soothing despite the tension in his voice. She nodded, pushing herself off the wall and disposing of the plastic bottle with a tired sigh.

They walked to the quietest corner of the garage, where the smell of oil and the distant chatter of mechanics couldn't intrude. Fred leaned in, his voice low and urgent. "Binotto wants to see you tonight after you've finished your press duties. It's about your future with Ferrari." The words hung in the air like a question she hadn't prepared for. She felt a mix of excitement and dread. This was the moment she had been waiting for, but she could not shake the nagging feeling that she was not truly ready for what the conversation would entail.

The rest of the day was a blur of interviews and autographs. Journalists whispered and focused on her movements as she passed, their eyes filled with curiosity. The tension grew with each step closer to Binotto's makeshift office on the Enzo e Dino Ferrari paddock. Her heart raced as she stepped into the sleek building, surrounded by the history and prestige of the Scuderia. The walls were adorned with trophies and photos of legendary drivers, their eyes seemingly watching her every move. The faces of Fangio, Lauda, Schumacher, and Raikkonen stared back at her as if taunting her with their tales of stories and successes for their adoring Tifosi.

Michaela took a deep breath, the air thick with anticipation as she waited for Mattia Binotto, Ferrari's Team Principal, to appear. The door swung open, revealing a man who looked more like a distant fan than a master of the motorsport world. His smile was warm, but his eyes were sharp and calculating. "Michaela, thank you for coming," He said in his flourished Italian, gesturing to a seat. She took it not before she wiped her sweaty palms against her blue jeans. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the faint tick of a clock that seemed to echo the beat of her heart.

Binotto sat across from her, leaning back in his chair with a confidence that made her nerves spark with anxiety. "We've noticed your progress this season," He began, his words measured. "Your podium in Tuscany was... unexpected, but not unwelcome."

There was a pause, a beat too long.

"But," He continued, "We're still not convinced you're ready for the pressure of a championship-contending seat." The room felt colder, the walls closing in around her.

Michaela's eyes widened in shock, her throat dry as she swallowed hard. "What do you mean?" She managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Binotto clasped his fingers, a gesture that seemed more suited to a boardroom than a Formula 1 garage. "You've shown potential, yes, but we need a driver who can handle the pressure of fighting for the title week in, week out." His eyes searched hers as if looking for something she was sure he wasn't going to find. "And frankly, we're considering other options."

Michaela felt the wind knocked out of her. Her mind raced with thoughts of the countless hours she had spent on the track, pushing herself beyond limits she never knew existed. All the sacrifices, the early mornings, the late nights in the simulator, the physical pain she'd endured - it all felt useless. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the armrests of the chair. She took a moment to compose herself, the sting of his words lingering like the taste of blood in her mouth.

"What other options?" She asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Who could be your other options?" She pleaded, eyes still wide in disbelief. Her fingers formed air quotations around the word 'options'.

Mattia's smile never wavered, a mark of his seasoned experience in the business of breaking bad news to talented drivers. "It's not for me to say right now, but rest assured, we are exploring all avenues." He paused, letting his words sink in. "But, don't get me wrong, you are a valuable asset to the Ferrari family. We just need to make sure that when we make our decision, it's the right one at the right time."

Michaela felt the weight of his words like a bomb strapped to her chest. Despite her historic podium finish, she was still seen as an 'if' and not a 'when'. She took a deep breath, her thoughts racing. This wasn't the conversation she had hoped for, but she knew she had to keep her emotions in check if she wanted to leave this meeting with her reputation intact. "I understand," She said, her voice surprisingly calm, catching herself off guard. "But I'm not going to settle for anything less than what I know I can achieve."

Binotto nodded, his expression indiscernible. "That's the spirit," He said, his smile never reaching his eyes. Michaela could feel her world spin as she tried to keep herself from throwing up her last meal. "But you must understand that Ferrari is more than just a team. It's a legacy. A responsibility. And we don't take our decisions lightly."

Michaela nodded, the uneasiness in her belly swirled and rose to the point of nausea. "I'm aware," She replied, her voice laced with a rueful determination she hadn't felt in a long time. "I've worked my entire life for this moment. And I won't let anyone, not even Ferrari, tell me that I'm not ready."

Binotto leaned in, his eyes searching hers once more. "Your passion is commendable, Michaela. But passion alone does not win championships." His tone was softer now, almost patronizing. "You've proven you can handle a car, but the question still stands, can you handle the weight of the Ferrari suit?"

Michaela felt a flash of anger, but she swallowed it down, reminding herself of the stakes involved in a room with one other witness. "I know what it means to drive for Ferrari," She replied, her voice firm. "And I'm ready to prove it."

Binotto leaned back in his chair, his expression unchanged. "Good," He said. "Because if you wish to be considered for a seat next season, you'll need to prove it not just to me, but to the entire team, from the mechanics to the sponsors."

Michaela nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll do whatever it takes." She said with a conviction that she hoped was as convincing as it sounded.

The silence grew heavier before Fred Vasseur coughed gently. "Michaela, I think it's important to remember that your contract with Alfa Romeo is also ending this year," He reminded her, his voice a stark contrast to Binotto's coolness. "We've had a good season, and I know you're looking for a new challenge."

Michaela nodded, her eyes flicking to Fred, then back to Binotto. "But I thought Ferrari was the next step for me," She said, her voice filled with an unspoken question.

Fred cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Ferrari is a tough nut to crack, but you're not without options," He offered, trying to ease the tension in the room. "We are interested in retaining your talent for next season. You need to weigh your options carefully. If you leave us, there's no guarantee you'll ever get in a Ferrari seat."

Michaela felt the sting of his words pierce at her resolve. Was he hinting that she was being too ambitious? She took a moment to process the information, her eyes darting between the two men. The Ferrari dream was slipping through her fingers, but she knew she would never give up without a fight.

"What's the deal?" She asked, her voice still firm despite the doubt creeping in.

Fred leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Alfa Romeo is willing to offer you a multi-year contract. We believe in you, and we'll support you as you continue to grow as a driver. But if you want to drive for Ferrari, you may need to wait. And waiting could mean sacrificing your career trajectory." His words were a stark reminder of the cutthroat nature of Formula 1 for any driver, much less a driver trying to dispel any doubt about the potential of female drivers.

Michaela felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on her. Her mind raced with scenarios, each more daunting than the last. Could she really wait another season or two, hoping Ferrari would give her a chance? Or should she take the security of a contract with Alfa Romeo and continue to try to prove herself in a car that was intentionally uncompetitive? Her thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of her phone in her pocket. Guido Marotta, her manager, flashed across her screen like a beacon of hope amidst the turmoil. After receiving a 'go ahead' from Binotto and Vasseur to pick up the call, she answered with a tentative greeting.

"Michaela," He said urgently when she picked up. "I've got a call from Zak Brown with McLaren. They're interested in you for 2021. It's a seat with potential, and they're willing to pay big."

Michaela's heart skipped a beat at the mention of McLaren. The British team was on the rise, with young talent in Lando Norris, the very same Brit she had beaten to the Formula 2 champion two years ago. Regardless of her friendly rivalry with Lando, McLaren was a team that could offer her a real shot at fighting for victories, if not immediately, then certainly in the near future.

"What are they saying?" She managed to ask despite the wave of shock that settled over her. Her voice a curious mix of excitement and hesitation.

Guido's response was quick and to the point, a mark of his personality that made him such an efficient manager. "They're impressed with your performance, especially the podium in Tuscany. They think you're ready to step up to the next level. And they're willing to offer you a multi-year deal that would put you in a car capable of fighting for podiums."

Michaela's eyes widened as she processed the information, her heart racing faster than the Formula 1 cars she drove at top speed. A seat at McLaren would mean leaving the Ferrari family, but it was an opportunity she couldn't ignore. She could feel the eyes of both Binotto and Vasseur on her, each waiting for her to make a mistake, to show her hand. She took a deep breath, her racing heart pounding in her chest. "I need to think about it," she said, her voice firm despite the tremor of excitement.

Bintto nodded, his expression unreadable. "Take all the time you need, but remember, the paddock is a small place, and opportunities like this don't come around often." Guido's words were a warning, a subtle reminder that she was playing a game with very high stakes.

Michaela ended the call, the silence in the room thick with the unspoken tension. She looked up at the two men in front of her, their faces a map of the politics she had so long tried to navigate to no avail. "Thank you for the offer, but I need to consider all my options before making a decision," She said, her voice steady despite the tumultuous storm in her mind.

Fred nodded solemnly. "We understand," He said, his eyes reflecting a hint of disappointment. Binotto remained expressionless, his gaze unwavering as he studied her as if taken off guard.

Michaela stepped out of the office, her legs shaking beneath slightly. The cool evening air of Imola hit her like a slap in the face, jolting her back to the unfair reality. The paddock was alive with activity, teams, and drivers preparing for the final practice session of the weekend tomorrow morning. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, the noise of the surrounding environment fading into the background as she weighed her options. The decision before her was impossible: stay with the Ferrari family and hope for a chance that might never come, or take a leap into the unknown with McLaren, a team on the rise but without the guarantee of any tangible success.

Her phone buzzed again in her back pocket. This time, it was her boyfriend, Olivier. She had hoped he would be there for her, to help navigate the stormy waters of her career. But his texts had been sparse and unenthusiastic. Work had taken him away from the track more often than not, leaving her to face the pressures of Formula 1 alone.

Michaela took a moment to compose herself before reading the message. It was a simple question about her plans for the night. The distance between them had grown over the past few weeks, and his new job as a race analyst kept him busy and detached from her personal little racing world. The lack of support was palpable, and she found herself resenting him for it.

With a heavy heart, she texted back that she had an important call and needed some space to think. Olivier responded with a curt 'Okay', and she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of anger. The callousness of his reply only further reminded her of Jenson's words during that night they shared in his hotel in Tuscany.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a familiar engine roar, snapping her out of her brooding. The McLaren MCL35M, piloted by Lando Norris, was being looked at by a group of papaya-clad mechanics. The sight of the orange car brought a bitterness to her tongue, a taste of rivalry from their time in Formula 2. But now, the prospect of racing alongside him in the same team had an allure she hadn't anticipated.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the paddock as she made her way back to her own garage. Her mind was a tornado of thoughts and emotions. The podium finish in Tuscany had brought her career to a new level, but it had also exposed the cracks in her relationship with Olivier. The fight for the top was becoming as much about proving herself to the sport as it was about proving herself to him.

Michaela stepped into the Alfa Romeo garage, the starkness of the white walls contrasting sharply with the Ferrari red that had surrounded her just minutes before. Her team greeted her with nods of respect and understanding; they knew the stakes of her meeting with Binotto and Vasseur. She took a moment to appreciate their kindness before retreating to her personal space to call Travis.

She held her uncle's opinion in the highest regard. As she explained the dilemma presented to her by Binotto, Vasseur, and Brown, she could already feel Travis' incoming response.

"Michaela, I know you're going through a tough time," He said, his Australian twang cutting through the line. "But remember, you're worth more than any contract they throw at you. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." His words echoed in her mind as she sat on the cold, metal floor, her back against the wall of her small driver's home.

Michaela nodded to herself, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She knew he was right. Her entire career had been about proving herself, about fighting against the odds. But this was different. This was Ferrari. The pinnacle of motorsport. The dream she had chased since she was a little girl watching her heroes race in the very same series. "I know," She murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears. "But it feels like no matter what I do, I'm never going to be enough for them."

Travis' voice grew stern. "You're more than enough, Mitch." The use of the childhood alias she would use to enter karting races when she was much younger drew a soft laugh from her. "You've got talent that could outshine anyone on that grid. Don't you dare let them tell you any bullshit otherwise." His crass words were a balm to her bruised ego, a reminder of the fire that had driven her to this point.

Michaela took a deep breath, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. "What should I do?" She asked, her voice shaky.

"You need to trust yourself," Travis said firmly. "You've come too far to let someone else dictate your future. If Ferrari doesn't see what you're capable of, then maybe it's time to show them what they're missing out on."

Michaela's eyes drifted to her reflection in the shiny Alfa Romeo emblem on the wall. She saw the little girl with her first go-kart, the teenager fighting tooth and nail in every race, the woman who had just earned her place on the podium. A sense of determination swelled within her. "You're right," she murmured, wiping a rogue tear from her cheek. "I can't wait around for them to decide my worth."

Her resolve strengthened with every beat of her heart. The decision was clear: she had to take the risk with McLaren. They were offering her a chance to prove herself in a competitive car, and she knew she could step up to the plate. The thrill of the challenge coursed through her veins like adrenaline. The very same adrenaline that filled her with anticipation every time she stepped into her car and onto the track.

With a newfound sense of decisiveness, she called Guido back, her voice clear and direct. "Set up the meeting with McLaren," she said. "I'm ready to explore my options."

Guido's response was swift and business-like. "Good call, Michaela. I'll get it sorted."

Michaela ended the call with a sense of relief as if she had just taken the first step in reclaiming control over her destiny. She took a moment to appreciate the quiet of the garage, the rhythmic buzz of tools, and the murmur of engineers discussing setup changes a comforting backdrop. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic storm of emotions playing out in her mind.

✼.⠀NOVEMBER 01, 2020 — imola, italy › race day.

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, with a flurry of meetings and phone calls that left her little time to reflect on her personal life. The final practice session and qualifying passed in a blur, her focus solely on the job at hand: securing the best possible grid position for the upcoming race.

Michaela found solace in the roar of the engine, the vibration of the car beneath her, and the way the tires whispered secrets of grip and speed to her. It was the sweet hum of mechanical perfection that drowned out the rushes of doubt and anxiety. She pushed her Alfa Romeo to the limit, setting a time that was surprisingly close to the Ferrari of Sebastian Vettel.

The qualifying session was intense, with drivers jostling for the top position, but she remained focused. Her mind was a cage, shutting out everything but the track ahead. When she climbed out of the car, her heart was racing, not just from the exertion but from the thrill of the chase. The team congratulated her on outqualifying both her teammate Kimi, and Sebastian, their smiles genuine, but her thoughts were already racing to the next battle: the race itself.

The night before the Grand Prix, she lay in her hotel room, the TV playing the highlights of her podium finish in Tuscany as they discussed the future she wasn't any more sure about than they were. The commentators' voices grew distant as she stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of Ferrari's elusive offer and the tantalizing prospect of McLaren. She picked up her phone, the screen lighting up the dark room. Olivier's face popped up on the screen, his expression one of forced cheerfulness. Michaela scoffed to herself as she remembered their one-year anniversary was approaching in less than three months without as much as an acknowledgment from the Frenchman.

Their relationship had been strained at best since her podium finish, his lack of support stinging more than any of the criticisms from the media or the whispers in the paddock. The distance between them was palpable, and the thought of their upcoming trip to Monaco, which was supposed to be romantic, now felt like a chore she couldn't escape.

Michaela's mind was a tumult of emotions as she stared at the screen. The text from Olivier was innocent, asking about her day and her preparations for the race. But it was his detachment that was eating away at her. Her historic podium finish in Tuscany should have been a celebration, a moment they shared together. Instead, he had been glued to his phone as he picked her up from the airport, congratulating her with a peck on the cheek before retreating to answer his emails.

Her thoughts drifted to Jenson, his words of support and understanding after the race resonated in her ears. The night they had shared was a brief escape from the pressure, a spark of comfort that had quickly turned into a fire of guilt and confusion. But as she sat in the quiet hotel room, she couldn't deny that his words had planted a seed of doubt in her heart. Was Olivier really the one for her? Or was she just clinging to the familiarity of their relationship out of fear of being alone in this high-stakes world?

Michaela threw her phone onto the bed, frustration building within her. She needed to focus on the race tomorrow, not the tangled mess of her love life. The pressure was immense, but she had faced worse. The race was her sanctuary, the one place where she could truly be herself, free from the scrutiny and expectations of others.

The next day, the grandstands were a sea of Ferrari red, the air thick with anticipation. As she stood out on the track in her Alfa Romeo racing suit, the Italian national anthem playing out, she felt a pang of regret for the dream that seemed to be slipping away. But she pushed it aside, reminding herself of her uncle's words. This race was about more than just points or positions; it was about making a statement.

The lights went out, and the engines roared to life. She dropped the clutch and the car leaped forward, her eyes fixed on the first corner. The opening laps were a dance of strategy and skill, pushing for position without making contact. As the race unfolded, she felt the car come alive beneath her, responding to her every input with a ferocity that matched her own.

Michaela's mind was singularly focused on the task at hand, the tire strategies, the car's setup, and the ever-changing track conditions. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles tightened with the intensity of her focus. She knew every inch of this circuit like the back of her hand, every bump, every nuance that could be taken advantage of to shave off a tenth of a second.

The race was a battleground of pace, a silent war of speed and precision. The scream of engines, the smell of burning rubber, the taste of adrenaline—it was all familiar to her now, a chorus of sensations that played out in her mind like a well-rehearsed choir. She pushed her Alfa Romeo to the limits, every turn a declaration of her intentions to the Ferrari team watching from the pits.

As the race approached its final stages, the tension grew. The lead drivers were locked in a fierce battle, but it was the midfield fight that had the crowd on the edge of their seats. The McLaren of Lando Norris in 10th and the AlphaTauri of Daniil Kvyat in 8th were dueling, with her car sandwiched in between. The podium was still a distant hope, but a solid points finish was within her grasp.

Her heart raced as she saw the gap to Kvyat shrinking, her eyes flickering between the track ahead and the mirrors. The Russian was known for his aggressive driving, and she knew she had to be ready for anything. The moment came on the 58th lap, as Kvyat made a daring move around the outside of a tight corner. She braced herself, her muscles tense as she waited for the inevitable contact that never came. He'd gone too wide, opening the door for her to act quickly.

Michaela didn't hesitate, seizing the opportunity with the finesse of a seasoned veteran. She shot down the inside, the roar of the Alfa Romeo's engine echoing through the narrow corridor of the track. The move was clean and decisive, and it earned her a well-deserved spot in 8th place. The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and gasps, the excitement palpable even through the thick barriers. Though she was much too far to challenge the Ferrari of Charles Leclerc in 7th, Michaela knew with that move she had made her statement.

The final laps were a blur of concentration, her eyes never straying from the road ahead. She crossed the line, her heart pounding in her chest as the cheers grew louder. The podium may have eluded her this time, but she had shown Ferrari that she was no mere junior driver to be overlooked.

The podium ceremony went ahead without her, the Mercedes duo of Valtteri and Lewis accompanied by the Red Bull of Max, took to spraying champagne and soaking in the applause. Meanwhile, in the pits, the Alfa Romeo mechanics were already debriefing, their heads bowed over data screens, their expressions a mix of pride and determination. The team knew she had given it everything she had.

Michaela climbed out of her car, the adrenaline wearing off to reveal the exhaustion that had been waiting in the metaphorical wings. She took off her helmet, her sweat-dampened hair sticking to her forehead and curling up from the heat. The TV cameras and journalists swarmed around her, eager to capture her reaction to the race. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile, and faced the barrage of questions on her trek back to the garage with the poise of a woman who had, in fact, spent her life in the spotlight.

"How does it feel to be back in the points?" One journalist shouted over the others.

Michaela paused, her smile wavering slightly. "It feels amazing," She said, her voice carrying over the business of the paddock. "But I'm not just here to collect points. I'm here to win." The words were a declaration of war, a challenge thrown down to Ferrari and everyone else who had ever doubted her. As she fielded more questions, her eyes caught sight of Olivier who stood tall amongst the unfamiliar faces.

Their gazes met briefly, his expression one of surprise, perhaps even a hint of admiration. But it was the way his eyes searched hers that had her stomach flipping. He had watched the race with the same intensity as everyone else, but she knew he had felt her struggle, her determination, her triumph. She knew he understood the weight of her words.

Michaela pushed through the media scramble, her heart racing faster than the car she had just stepped out of. She needed to talk to him, to explain everything, but she wasn't sure she had the words to bridge the growing gap between them. The garage was alive with noise and activity, but she found him amidst the chaos, his eyes still glued to the screens that replayed her daring move.

Olivier's face was a mask of professionalism, but she saw the flicker of pride in his gaze. He knew the significance of her performance today, not just for her but for the future of their relationship. She approached him, the noise of the paddock fading away as they stood face to face. "I didn't know you were coming," She said, trying to keep her voice steady. Instead of answering her right away, he drew her sweaty body into his.

The embrace was tight and warm, a welcome contrast to the coolness that had settled between them. "I had to see you," He murmured into her ear, his breath tickling the baby hairs on her neck. "You were incredible out there."

Michaela leaned into his arms, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. "Thank you," She whispered, her voice cracking. "I needed to hear that."

Olivier pulled back, his expression honest. His Sky Sports windbreaker adorned his broad shoulders. "I know things have been tough for us, but you can't doubt yourself. You're one of the best drivers out there."

Michaela nodded, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. "But it's not just about being the best," she said. "It's about being in the right car, with the right team, and having the right support."

Olivier's grip on her tightened. "And you have that," he said firmly. "You've got me, you've got Travis, your family, and you've got a whole team behind you. That's what matters."

Michaela searched his eyes, looking for the truth in his words. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe she did have everything she needed. But the doubt remained, a stubborn shadow in the corner of her mind. "I don't know if that's enough," she confessed. "The McLaren offer is real, Olivier. And I can't ignore it."

He sighed, his grip loosening slightly. "I know," he said, his voice shallow with defeat. Michaela was aware he was biased, like most former drivers, to the allure of the Ferrari name. "But you have to do what's best for your career."

"And what about us?" She asked the question hanging in the air like the scent of burnt rubber from the track. Olivier looked away, his eyes darting around the garage before returning to hers.

"We'll figure it out," He said, but his voice lacked conviction. The words stung, but she knew she couldn't let her personal life sway her career choice. The Ferrari contract remained out of reach, and the McLaren offer grew more inviting with each passing moment.

Michaela turned away from Olivier, her mind racing. She knew she had to sit down with Guido and discuss the future. The decision was hers, and she couldn't let anyone else make it for her.

"Michaela, congratulations on a fantastic race," Guido's voice boomed over the background noise of the paddock as he approached her. His eyes were sharp, assessing the tension between her and Olivier. A perceptive man, he was more than aware of the tension between Michaela and her distant boyfriend. "Your performance today was exceptional."

Michaela nodded, her eyes never leaving Olivier's. "Thank you, Guido." Her voice was laced with a mix of exhaustion and determination. "Can we talk about the McLaren offer now?"

Guido looked from her to Olivier and back, sensing the unspoken tension. He cleared his throat, his expression shifting to one of professionalism. "Of course," he said, gesturing towards a quieter corner of the garage. "Let's get you out of the suit first."

Michaela nodded the weight of her decision momentarily forgotten as she allowed herself to be led away. She knew that she had to prioritize her career above all else, but the thought of leaving Ferrari, the team she had been groomed for, was like running away from the safety of the known.

Once in the relative quiet of the team's hospitality area, she peeled off her racing suit, revealing the sports bra and fireproofs beneath. The smell of the track clung to her, a mix of burning rubber, fuel, and victory. She took a deep breath and accepted the sports drink Guido offered to her while trying to steady her racing heart. Guido waited patiently, his eyes never leaving hers.

"McLaren is a serious offer," he began, his voice low and measured. "They're not just looking for a driver; they're looking for a star. You've got the potential to be that star, and they know it."

Michaela took a sip of the sports drink, the cool liquid soothing her dry throat. "But Ferrari is my dream," She said softly. "I've worked my entire life for this."

Guido's expression grew serious. "I know it's tough," He said. "But Ferrari's indecision is not a reflection of your talent. You've earned your place in this sport, and you can't let anyone make you feel otherwise."

Michaela nodded, the gravity of his words resonating within her. "What happens next?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Guido leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "We play hardball," He decided. "We tell Ferrari that you're exploring all options, and we let McLaren know that you're serious about the offer. It's time to make them realize that you're not just waiting around for a seat; you're actively pursuing your future."

Michaela nodded a newfound resolve setting in her features. "Alright," She responded, "Let's do it."

Guido set to work immediately, his fingers flying across his phone as he called in favors and set up meetings. Meanwhile, Olivier hovered in the background, his usual confidence replaced by a palpable uncertainty. The tension between them was as thick as the smoke that sometimes hung over the track.

Michaela took a moment to breathe, her thoughts racing as fast as the cars she'd just competed against. The idea of leaving Ferrari, the team she had grown up dreaming of, was heart-wrenching. But the opportunity to race for McLaren, a team on the rise with a proven track record of nurturing talent, was too good to pass up without serious consideration.

Her conversation with Guido was cut short by a sudden commotion in the garage. The team manager looked up from his phone, a flicker of concern crossing his features before they smoothed out into a mask of neutrality. "I'll handle this," he said, leaving her with a nod.

Michaela took a moment to collect herself, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of the Alfa Romeo livery. The thought of leaving Ferrari felt like a betrayal of her childhood dreams, but she knew that sometimes dreams had to evolve. She turned to find Olivier hovering awkwardly by the door. His eyes met hers, a silent question hanging in the air.

"We're going to play the field," she said, her voice firm. "Guido's going to talk to Ferrari and McLaren. We'll see who values me the most."

Olivier nodded, his eyes lingering on her. "But you know what you want, right?"

Michaela's gaze was unwavering. "I want to win," she replied. "And if Ferrari doesn't see that in me, then maybe it's time to move on."

Olivier nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of her words. He knew the Ferrari dream was a powerful one, but he also knew that she deserved to be in a car that could truly showcase her talents. The silence stretched between them, the echo of the race engines still resonating in the garage.

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't been more supportive," he finally said, his voice cracking slightly. "I know you're going through a lot right now, and I haven't been the best."

Michaela felt a pang of guilt for the fight earlier. She knew that Olivier was caught in the crossfire of her ambition and her need for validation. "It's okay," She replied, her own voice filled with a tired emotion. "It's just been a tough season."

Olivier stepped closer, his hand brushing hers briefly. "I'm here for you," he assured her. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you."

Michaela felt a wave of warmth at his words, but it was tempered by the doubt that still lingered. "Thank you," She said, her voice small. "But I can't promise that my decision will be easy for either of us."

Olivier nodded, the unspoken understanding hanging heavily in the air. They both knew that their relationship was on the line, that the glamour of F1 had a way of making the personal feel small and insignificant.

Michaela watched as Guido walked back towards her, his expression unreadable. The tension in the garage was palpable, and each team member was aware of the gravity of the situation. "Ferrari wants you to stay," he said, his voice low. "But they're not willing to make any promises for next season."

Her heart sank. "And McLaren?"

Guido's eyes held a flicker of excitement. "They're eager. They're willing to give you a multi-year contract, and they're confident that with the right support, you can lead them to a victory."

The prospect of being a team leader, of being valued and believed in, was honorable. But she couldn't ignore the pull of Ferrari, the team she had practically dedicated her life to. "What about my relationship with Ferrari?" She asked, her voice thick with emotion.

Guido's expression was a mix of empathy and business insight. "Ferrari is a legendary team," he acknowledged. "But they're also a business. Sometimes, you have to make decisions that are best for your career, even if it means leaving your dreams behind."

Michaela nodded the weight of his words sinking in. She knew that he was right, that she couldn't put her entire future in the hands of a team that wasn't ready to commit to her. But the thought of leaving the Ferrari family was like a knife to her heart.

Guido's phone buzzed, interrupting the tense silence. He checked the screen and his eyes lit up. "It's Zak Brown," He said, holding up the device. "He's ready to discuss the terms."

Michaela took a deep breath, her heart racing. This was it, the moment she had been working towards her entire career. The decision was hers to make, and it was a heavy burden to bear. She nodded at Guido, giving him the go-ahead.

Olivier stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. She could see the conflict in them, the love and the fear of losing her to the sport that had consumed her life. He knew the gravity of the situation, that her career was at a pivotal point, and that she couldn't afford to wait for Ferrari's indecision.

Michaela's mind raced as she took the phone from Guido. Her hand was slightly trembling as she answered the call. "Zak," She greeted, trying to keep her voice even. "Thank you for the offer."

Zak Brown's voice was enthusiastic on the other end. "Michaela, we've been watching you all season, and we're impressed. We believe you're the missing piece to our championship puzzle. How do you feel about joining us at McLaren?"

Michaela paused, her heart racing as the words sank in. The offer was everything she had ever wanted: a competitive car, a team that believed in her, and the chance to prove herself on the world stage. But it also meant leaving the familiarity of Alfa Romeo and the tantalizing closeness of Ferrari.

Olivier stepped aside, giving her space, but his eyes remained on her, a silent plea for her to choose what made her happy. He knew that her heart was torn between the safety net of Ferrari and the thrilling unknown of McLaren.

Michaela took a deep breath and spoke into the phone, her voice clear and determined. "Zak, I would be more than honored to join the team."

The call didn't last long after that, with Guido taking over to discuss the finer points of the contract. Meanwhile, Olivier remained a silent presence, his eyes never leaving hers. As she hung up, she could see the mix of emotions playing across his face: pride, fear, and a hint of sadness. As Guido discussed options for their next meeting, Michaela stepped closer to Olivier. She reached up to hold his face in her hands, their eyes exchanging words they weren't quite comfortable enough to say out loud in the middle of the garage.

"Look," She began, her voice tender. "I need to do this. For me."

Olivier nodded, his eyes searching hers for any trace of doubt. "I know," He said, his voice gruff with emotion. "But I'm afraid of losing you to this sport." His lips pressed into an uncertain line as they stood in silence for another beat more.

Michaela leaned in and kissed him gently, the smell of the track still on her skin. "You won't," She promised, hoping it was true. "I'll make it work."

Olivier's arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly. "I believe in you," He murmured against her hair. "But I can't help but worry."

Michaela leaned into him, absorbing his warmth. "I know," She whispered. "But we'll find a way."

Guido cleared his throat, bringing them back to reality. "Michaela, we need to finalize the contract with McLaren," He reminded her, his voice firm but not unkind.

Michaela nodded, taking a step back from Olivier. "I know," she said, her voice steady. "Let's get it done."

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fatehbaz · 1 year ago

Text

Hmm. Alarming trend in mass incarceration in Central America.

Also: Very disingenuous wordplay here.

Where do we begin?

-- Very disingenuous for multiple outlets to run with "the West”. Though this initial AP article does specify that this refers to the Western Hemisphere, the choice to run headlines with “West” kinda implies that there are no other island prisons in “The West” (as in the European Union, the United States, Australia, etc.).

-- One of the most infamous incarceration schemes on the planet is Australia’s “Pacific Solution,” a “solution” to refugee migration centered on the imprisonment of asylum seekers on island prisons, including the infamous prisons at Nauru and Manus, both opened initially in 2001, and re-fortified after 2012. (Nauru is extremely isolated, in the South Pacific, 3000 kilometers away from the Australian coast; the Manus detention centre is far away off the northeast coast of Papua.) Since 2012, over 3,125 people have been sent to Nauru while over 4,180 people have been sent to Manus. (The “last refugee held on the Pacific island of Nauru under Australia’s offshore detention policy” was “evacuated” to mainland Australia only on 24 June 2023, not even a month prior to this headline.)

-- Obviously the EU incarcerates refugees on Mediterranean islands, notoriously at Moria on Lesbos, whose international reputation as the home of Sappho has been supplanted by its reputation as a de facto prison for asylum seekers. In October 2015, over 10,000 people landed on Lesbos in just one day. In 2017, the island averaged 2,500 arrivals per month. By 2019, humanitarian investigations showed that over 10,000 people were being held in a facility with a maximum capacity of 3,000. In 2020, fires left over 12,000 refugees on the island without shelter. By December 2021, Doctors Without Borders raised alarm that over 2,200 refugees were living in “dire” conditions on the island. As of early 2023, Lesbos (along with Kos, Leros, Chios, and Samos) is hosting over 4,500 people who are stuck in “reception and identification centers.”

-- And in the Western Hemisphere? The US prison at Guantanomo, also on the coast of an island in this same sea.

-- One of the most notorious island prisons was the early twentieth century French penal colony on the periphery of the Caribbean region at Guiana (run by a France, a “Western” power, in the Western Hemisphere), known internationally as “Devil’s Island.”

-- The federal government says the prison will be built “in harmony with nature.”

-- A prison ... in harmony with nature.

-- An island prison in the Caribbean, a region fundamentally and intimately connected to centuries of imprisonment, plantations, Indigenous genocide, antiBlackness, racial castes, and chattel slavery, all achieved and enforced through the bounded, isolated geographic containment structure allowed by islands.

-- And this is extra-worrying, because it seems it’s a regional trend, evidently for Honduras, El Salvador, and Colombia.

-- Merely a few days before this headline about Honduras, international outlets were profiling Honduras’s direct neighbor, El Salvador, with headlines like “Inside El Salvador’s new ‘mega prison’” (Al Jazeera) and, within the past couple months, headlines like “Prisoners are being tortured to death in El Salvador’s prisons” (VICE News).

-- From less than a week before this AP headline, we have BBC: “El Salvador’s secretive mega-jail.”

-- Don’t forget nearby Tapachula’s detention of asylum seekers.

Still discussing implementation of literal island prisons despite our collective familiarity with carceral archipelagoes.

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someone-will-remember-us · 3 months ago

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One of dozens of men who deny raping an unconscious French woman at the invitation of her husband said he had sex with her despite thinking she “looked dead”.

Husamettin Dogan, 43, angrily denied rape when he gave evidence in the trial of Dominique Pelicot, 71, and 49 other men. Pelicot admits inviting them to have sex with his wife Gisèle after he sedated her at their home near Avignon over a period of ten years up until 2020.

Dogan, who moved to France from Turkey as a young man and has never held a steady job, grew angry with the judges during questioning over his encounter with the near-comatose Mrs Pelicot, which was recorded by her husband. He claimed he had been publicly vilified and badly treated by police.

Like all the other accused, he said he believed he was taking part in a sex game organised by the couple after corresponding with Pelicot on a swingers’ website.

“When I started the foreplay, I saw that she didn’t have any reaction,” he told the court in Avignon. “I said, ‘Your wife’s dead?’ He told me, ‘No, you’re imagining things.’” He went on to say that Pelicot started to have sex with his wife as if to show him what to do.

“She raised her head a little,” according to Dogan. Nevertheless, he said that he had sex with her for about half an hour until her snoring became loud and he decided to leave.

During questioning, he said he could never have imagined that a husband would drug his wife and subject her to such acts. “They call me a rapist. I am not a rapist,” he said.

Pelicot told the court that he had informed Dogan his wife was drugged, as he had done with all the other accused. In addition he is charged with helping a 50th man, who is also on trial, to sedate his own wife.

Mrs Pelicot, who has divorced her husband, was in the courtroom as she has been every day since the trial opened on September 2. She has eschewed the right to anonymity and a trial in camera to publicise the evils of domestic rape.

The issue of consent has dominated the hearings, with the accused insisting that they were unaware they were raping Mrs Pelicot, although some have said they accept now that they committed the offence.

That was the case of Mathieu Dartus, a 53-year-old father of two who also testified on Wednesday. He was asked if he had understood that Mrs Pelicot was not in a state to be able to give her consent when he was presented to her at the couple’s home in Mazan, a small town near Avignon.

“Now, afterwards, I understand that — but that night, everything was crazy,” he said. A report by court experts said Dartus, afrequent visitor to partner-swapping clubs, was known to his family and friends as “affable, pleasant, always ready to help”.

The trial, which is forcing France to examine its attitude to rape and women’s consent, is due to end just before Christmas.

#radblr #radfem #radical feminism #gender critical #terfblr #radical feminist #gisele pelicot

85 notes · View notes

j0eyj0rdis0n · 1 year ago

Text

MASTERLIST

Hey y’all! It’s been a minute since I’ve made one of these and I wanted to wait until I had a good amount of content to really fill one of these up. So here’s all the writing I’ve done since I started this blog back in 2020.

This will be updated as often as I can, so no promises new/recent writing will be on here immediately. Also if a link doesn’t work please let me know!!

Hope y’all enjoy!

GUIDE:

Angst - 🕷

Fluff - 𓆩♡𓆪

Smut/NSFW - ☓

Neutral - ✸

𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐘𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀

Kingdom AU ✸

School AU ✸

School AU pt.2 ✸

High At School - School AU

Cheerleader S/O - School AU

Songs that remind me of the creeps ✸

Tim + Brian poly headcannons ☓ 𓆩♡𓆪

Scene S/O headcannons 𓆩♡𓆪 ✸

Finding you dead 🕷

Threatening suicide 🕷

Coming home to you singing/dancing 𓆩♡𓆪 ✸

Breaking up 🕷

Age regressing S/O ✸

S/O Who Loves Hello Kitty 𓆩♡𓆪 ✸

With A French S/O ✸

𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐩𝐬:

Matchup 1 ✸

Matchup 2 ✸

Matchup 3 ✸

Matchup 4 ✸

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐬:

Proxies Receiving Nudes ☓

Poly Proxies ☓

Poly Proxies pt.2 ☓

Hunted by the proxies ☓

Jealous proxies ☓🕷

Proxies x Final Girl 🕷

Sitting on the proxies lap 𓆩♡𓆪☓

𝐭𝐢𝐦/𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐲:

Father figure Tim ✸ 𓆩♡𓆪

Father figure Tim pt.2 ✸ 𓆩♡𓆪

Father figure Tim pt.3 ✸ 𓆩♡𓆪

Cowboy father figure Tim ✸ 𓆩♡𓆪

Cowboy Tim ✸

NSFW alphabet ☓

Werewolf Tim ✸

Kinktober Day 10: Praise ☓

𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧/𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞:

NSFW alphabet ☓

Woods ☓

"𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢" 𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐲:

Dark Headcannons ☓✸

Blood ☓

Subby Dom Toby ☓

Dating Toby ✸

Don't leave! 🕷

S/O With BPD ✸

Kinktober Day 7: Virginity ☓

𝐱-𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐮𝐬:

General Headcannons ✸

NSFW Headcannons ☓

𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝:

Historical dressed S/O ✸

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤:

Somnophilia ☓

First Meal ☓

Two Faced S/O ✸

Make it Better ☓ 🕷

Soft Dom ☓

Underwear fetish ☓

Fluff 𓆩♡𓆪

Father EJ 𓆩♡𓆪

Kinktober Day 8: Breeding ☓

𝐣𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫:

Kinktober Day 6: Dubcon ☓

Kinktober Day 6: Dubcon pt.2 ☓

𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤:

NSFW Headcannons ☓

NSFW Alphabet ☓

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑':

Day 6: Dubcon - Jeff The Killer ☓

Day 7: Virginity - "Ticci" Toby ☓

Day 8: Breeding - Eyeless Jack ☓

Day 10: Praise - Tim/Masky ☓

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄

Dating MIW ✸

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫:

Drive Thru 🕷 𓆩♡𓆪

Oh Shit- ✸

Photoshoot 𓆩♡𓆪

Firsts 𓆩♡𓆪 ☓

𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬:

In the End 🕷🕷🕷

Slip and Fall ✸

Sick 𓆩♡𓆪

First Snow 𓆩♡𓆪

Punishment 𓆩♡𓆪

Boring Right? 𓆩♡𓆪 ✸

𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐨:

Sinner in Church ☓

Skating 𓆩♡𓆪 ☓

Birthday Surprise 🕷

Not you too... 🕷

Easy Mornings 𓆩♡𓆪

Beg ☓

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰:

Hold on Tight 🕷

Decorations 𓆩♡𓆪

𝐫𝐲𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐤𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐤𝐢:

Strawberries and sundresses 𓆩♡𓆪

Santa's workshop 𓆩♡𓆪

Go home... 🕷

Enlistment 🕷

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

Dinner Table - Oli Sykes 🕷

Just Drive! - Oli Sykes ✸

Dating Oli Sykes ✸

About me

About me pt.2

ASKS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!!

wattpad | AO3

BLOG INTRO!!

241 notes · View notes

queen-of-reptiles · 1 year ago

Text

𝙰𝙲𝙴

description: in which Deyna Castellanos is spotted at readers first tennis match back from injury while Alex Greenwood is there to support her best friend, and there seems to be something more than friendship in mind

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deyna castellanos x female reader

this is fiction - i am not saying Deyna’s sexuality is part of the LGBTQ+ this is all fiction! x

COVID NEVER EXISTED IN THIS AU

warnings: flufffffff and mentions of previous injuries

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y/n just posted

liked by alexgreenwood5, cocogauff and 1, 210, 398 others

y/n see you soon? #USopen22 🎾

view 13, 092 comments

username1: QUEEN OF THE COURT IS BACK ❤️❤️

cocogauff: babe wake up - y/n's just announced her return to tennis

y/n: xoxo

alexgreenwood5: SO PROUD of you ! 🩷

y/n: couldn't have done it without ya chicky! 🩷

keirawalsh: so excited for you!! 🤍🤍

y/n: Thank you Kei! 🤍🤍

username2: Why is the man city women's team here?

username3: Alex and y/n have been best friends since childhood - so the team must see her a lot!

username2: thank you!

alexgreenwood5: @deynacastellanos ...

deynacastellanos: shhhhhh

username4: omg ?? Does Deyna have a crush on her???

username5: HAHAHAHAHAH Alex

anydmurray: knock em dead kiddo!

y/n: 🥺😘

username6: their relationship !

see more comments...

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twitter/X

username1: ALEX, DEYNA AND LAUREN ARE ALL AT THE US OPEN! AWWWWW

username2: UPDATE CHLOE KELLY, KEIRA WALSH and LUCY BRONZE HAVE ALL ARRIVED TOO 🥹🥹

username3: have they got time off or something????

username4: yeah they have some time off before going back to clubs in September!

username5: IF ANYONE IS WATCHING THE US OPEN - they just showed a video of all the players warming up and y/n waved at Alex and her friends and DEYNA FUCKIN BLUSHED

username6: y/n is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT Deyna's celeb crush! 🤭🤭

see more comments...

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y/n breathed in deeply, her hand gripping her racket tightly as she watched Caroline Garcia move slightly, one more point. One more point was all that was needed to end this three and a half hour match.

y/n hadn't been playing to her full ability her mind still slightly on her recently healed Achilles. It had been spotted by the commentators, and when she inevitably re-watched her matched later, she would cringe at their pity of her recent injury.

She had never watched the video of her going down, she couldn't. At the peak of her career, 2020 Tokyo, one last hurdle for her Gold medal.

She'd won Wimbledon this year, she'd conquered the singles and doubles in the US and French opens and she and Andy had finally taken the doubles in Australia.

Then it happened, she stretched and she could feel the snap of her Achilles tendon, her body crashing to the floor as the crowd all shouted in fear.

The cry of pain she let out, caused her best friend Alex to jump from the crowd, still in her GB uniform from playing and bounce onto court, ignoring the shouts of the guards.

Belinda Bencic was with her too, having rushed to her competitor the second she went down, y/n's body shaking with pain-filled sobs as the medics tried to decipher the source of her pain, finally realising she was holding her ankle.

It took two months for her operation, the rupture being so bad, yet the back up in the hospitals caused a wait time.

It took another twelve months for her body to heal, and then another six to get her fitness back up, at every stretch, ever jump, y/n expected to feel it again, the pain, the snap.

But it never came, and now here she was, one final serve and she would be through, back to the final of the US Open like she deserved to be, needed to be.

y/n breathed in, looking left slightly, her eyes meeting the kind ones of Deyna Castellanos, Alex's teammate and friend, and she smiled, before throwing the ball in the air and bringing her racket down harshly.

"Ace."

She heard the call before she acknowledged it's meaning, standing their confused as to why Caroline wasn't moving, then the woman who she had battled many times now grinned.

She leapt over the net and wrapped the still paused girl in a tight hug, the crowd bursting into cheers and applause.

"Oh my god!" y/n let out, finally realising what the call meant, and Caroline laughed again as she clung to her.

"You deserve this, petit combattant. You deserve this." Caroline promised as they pulled away.

y/n let out a tearful thank you as Caroline walked toward her coach, the man hugging her in sympathy, y/n turned to Alex and the crowd which were screaming for her.

She let out a cry of joy, tears slipping down her red cheeks as she fell to her knees in relief, the photo becoming one that would be used for weeks to come, showing the joy and love of tennis.

A body collided with hers, long nails scratching at her shoulders as Alex pulled her best friend tighter.

"Ace!" Alex grinned into her.

"Ace indeed!" y/n laughed as she stood up, keeping a tight grip on the closest woman in her life. The press loving the inter-sport friendship began snapping pictures, as y/n's coach Mark wrapped an arm around both of them and guided them inside.

"y/n!" A voice called and soon enough a familiar strawberry blonde was wrapped around her, the player laughing as she hugged Keira back.

Keira, Lucy, Georgia and y/n had bonded best of the group Alex had introduced her to, and even though y/n was aware of Keira's impending move, it didn't dampen their close friendship.

Georgia was unable to join today, but the brunette had promised her friend she would be there for the final, stating she had no doubt she would make it.

"I'm so proud." Keira murmured into her friend's shoulder. y/n smiled as they pulled away, pressing a kiss to the hair of Keira's head.

"Thanks Kei." y/n smiled, Lucy moving over to hug the girl, the two having become like sisters very quickly.

"Well done, kiddo." Lucy hummed, a tight hug reassuring y/n that this was real, she really had done it.

"Thanks Luce." y/n chimed as they pulled away, Lauren and Chloe wrapping her in a double hug quickly. Alex was grinning madly as she pulled y/n over to the newcomer by her hand.

"This y/n/n, is Deyna, she's the only one you haven't met yet." Alex explains. "She's a big fan, ain't ya lovie?" Alex then asks Deyna whose cheeks flush.

"Alex." The girl whined, a thick Venezuelan accent ingrained in her voice which nearly made y/n's knees weak.

She turned to y/n, a small smile on her face as she tried to remain calm at the girl in front of her. y/n suddenly felt self conscious of her looks.

Her hair greasy with sweat, face sticky with it too, her eyes were probably slightly red from the tears and she had some many fly-aways she could guess she looked like a manic scientist.

"Hola un placer conocerte, eres una delantera, ¿sí?" y/n asks softly.

hello, lovely to meet you, you're a striker, yes?

"¿tú hablas español?" Deyna asks, eyebrows furrowed.

you speak Spanish?

Sí, pero sé que la versión venezolana también tiene un ligero dialecto, así que disculpas si todo esto es muy básico." y/n smiles.

yes, but I know the Venzuelan version has a slight dialect too it, so apologies if this is all very basic.

"No no eres fantástica!" Deyna exclaimed happily.

No, no, you are fantastic!

y/n smiled, her cheeks heating as Chloe gawked at her friend, confused that she didn't know the girl could speak Spanish.

"You speak Spanish?" Chloe asks confused.

"Chloe, I learnt to play tennis in Spain?" y/n questioned back confused.

"Yeah, but I just assumed they all spoke English." The blonde shrugged.

"Maybe that's why you didn't react when they called Ace, too used to it being in Spanish." Lucy teased and y/n laughs mockingly before shoving her.

This action causes the two to begin to fight playfully, acting like siblings as the rest just huff and roll their eyes, used to the twos childish ways.

"Alright, alright stop!" Keira chides, her voice stern as the two part and sheepishly look down.

"Sorry Keira." y/n chuckles as footsteps move to them.

"Well, well, well." A voice says and y/n turns and grins at the player.

"Andy!" She squeaks, running at the man she saw as a father, he'd done more for her than either of her parents had anyway.

"Told ya you would be fine." The man chuckles as he hugs the girl tightly. "21 and the best in the world." He adds kindly and y/n smiles as the pull away.

"Think that's cause I have a pretty awesome mentor." She denies and Andy chuckles, kissing her head before letting her continue with her friends.

"So, tomorrow?" Alex asks and y/n lets out a small breath.

"Tomorrow, one day to show them all I'm back." She nods. The girls all nods supportively as they begin their walk back toward the recording room, where y/n would have to sit through some classic interviews.

"Un día." Deyna hums.

one day

"Un día." y/n agrees.

one day

"Un día para demostrarte que has vuelto. Ellos ya saben que lo eres." Deyna tells her.

one day to show yourself that you're back. They already know you are.

y/n smiles softly at Deyna's words, realising that maybe she was right and she nudges her shoulder slightly in thanks.

"Ya estoy de vuelta." y/n nods. "Ya estoy de vuelta." She repeats stronger.

I'm back.

Deyna nods, believing her as Alex looks back, smiling sneakily at the pair she had hoped would get along well, Lucy sees her look and rolls her eyes, but as she hears y/n laugh at something Deyna had said she shares a knowing look with Keira.

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y/n just posted

liked by deynacastellanos, lucybronze and 1, 239, 776 others

y/n Thank you Caroline, you are an amazing woman and were a fierce competition. Thank you for all the love. I will see you tomorrow.

View all 80, 362 comments...

username1: the raw emotion from you made me SOB 😭

username2: The way she didn't even hear the 'ace' call! 😂

username3: Looked like she got stuck buffering for a sec!!

username4: 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ - 'Please reconnect battries.'

alexgreenwood5: Couldn't be prouder!! 😘

y/n: i love you so much xxx ❤️

keirawalsh: The photo of your shout of joy will now be my phone background 🥹

y/n: don't cause I'm still crying all the time...🥹

lucybronze: So proud little fighter!!

y/n: ly!! 🩷

lauren_hemp: Do I understand tennis? No. Do I love watching you win? Yes.

y/n: love you hempo!

stanwaygeorgia: Gowan girl!

y/n: see you soon!!! xx

username5: I have never been so glued to my screen ! 😶😶

username6: Caroline's reaction was so kind, so beautiful! 🥺

username7: she deserves this so much omg

username8: I'm going be a mess if she wins!

see more comments...

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This was the longest match of her life. Even during her Wimbledon win, y/n had never been on the court for over four hours, and now they were running over their fifth, nearly at their sixth.

Iga Świątek was younger, fitter, and was not recovering from an injury. She was clever, a fantastic player, but she was not the world number 1.

Neither was y/n, in fact, she had dropped. She was slower, older that Iga, and recovering still, even now, her mentality taking a bigger hit than her ankle.

But today, she needed this win, she had to have it. Iga was younger, fitter, but she wasn't one point from victory. y/n was.

Her chest moved slowly as y/n inhaled deeply, her head tilting up slightly as the crowd waited, holding their breath. y/n's eyes met the soft ones of Deyna once more and a small smile was sent at her.

That soft smile at the lips of the Venezuelan sent small waves of belief down y/n, and she threw the ball in the air. She brought her racket down, watching as the ball flew.

"Ace!"

y/n's hands flew to her head, she heard it this time, she recognised it this time and she sunk to her knees in tears as Iga sunk to her own in sadness.

y/n took a moment, breathing in as the crowd erupted in cheers, she had done something almost impossible. She had beaten an injury everyone thought would be the end of her.

Rising to her feet, y/n moved over to Iga, helping her to her feet as she cupped her face.

"Jesteś tak młoda. Tak utalentowany. Nie pozwól, żeby to miało na ciebie wpływ." y/n spoke softly.

You are so young. So talented. Don't let this affect you.

Iga seemed shocked that the English player spoke Polish, but she smiled thankfully as she wiped her eyes, and hugged the woman in thanks.

"dziękuję, mistrzu." Iga said kindly.

thank you, champion

y/n chuckled, shaking her hand as she walked away, fling her body against Andy who caught her, her body finally letting out the tears she was desperately trying to hold in.

"I did it." She breathed.

"You did it." Andy promises.

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y/n just posted

liked by alexgreenwood5, andymurray, and 1, 598, 333 others

tagged alexgreenwood5

y/n Two little girls, who knew they would be a European Champion and US open winner.

To those little ones.

We did it guys.

Thank you x

view 400, 638 comments

username1: this is so cute 😭😭

username2: I NEED A FRIENDSHIP LIKE THIS

username3: her reaction made me cry so much 😭

username4: HER RUNNING TO ANDY 😭😭

username5: AND THEN IN THE POST INTERVIEW SAYING HE’S MORE OF A FATHER THAN HER PARENTS EVER WERE AND HIM WIPING HIS EYES IN TBE BACKGROUND 😭😭

alexgreenwood5: I cannot express how proud I am - you have been through so much, you deserve every second of this win ❤️❤️

y/n: Cannot ever say how grateful I am to have you in my life Lex, I love you ❤️

deynacastellanos: 🩷🩷

y/n: 🩷🩷

keirawalsh: SO PROUD 🩷🥺

y/n: 🩷🩷🩷

lucybronze: Georgia was screaming so loud, and THEN WE JOINED IT YOU DID IT 🖤🖤

stanwaygeorgia: I’D DO IT AGAIN 🖤

y/n: 🥹🖤🖤🖤

username6: Her comforting Iga was so lovely and the fact Iga said she spoke Polish and when asked about it, y/n said she learnt a bunch of things the night before so she could communicate in her language 🥹🥹🥹🥹

lauren_hemp: GO ON!!!

y/n: LOVE YOU!!!!

chloekelly: Go on babe !! So proud <3

y/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING <3

andymurray: Couldn’t be prouder, you are so fantastic!

y/n: Thank you Andy, for all you’ve done xo

cocogauff: AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

y/n: AKDJCIAHWNFKCOSN

username7: 🥺🥺🎾

username8: I am so sad Iga lost :(((((

username9: then why are you here??

username10: ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

see more comments...

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alexgreenwood5 just posted on her story

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deynacastellanos just posted on her story

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y/n just posted on her story

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y/n just posted on her story

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deynacastellanos just posted on her story

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y/n just posted

liked by, chloekelly, alexgreenwood5, and 989, 230 others

tagged deynacastellanos

y/n maybe stick to the day job lovie xo

view all 50, 382 comments

username1: OMG they are hanging out again AHHHHHH 🥹🥹

username2: this is so cute omg 🤭🤭

username3: do you think they're 'getting to know' each other???

chloekelly: ace! 🎾

y/n: ace! 🎾

deyancastellanos: I blame my teacher for me not being very good...

alexgreenwood5: well, if you spend all lesson staring at the teacher you probably won't learn anything 😘

username4: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

y/n: @deynacastellanos - how gd dare you, I'm a great teacher 😠

deynacastellanos: great looking teacher... 😶

comment deleted

username5: I SAW THAT DEYNA 😭😭

username6: you ain't slick Deyna 😭😂

see more comments...

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y/n smiled as the comments continued to flood in, her eyes watching the people call out Deyna for her now deleted comment, the said comment having been seen by the blushing y/n.

"They're going crazy." Deyna hums, a small smile on her face.

"Hmm, well they still think you're useless at flirting." y/n chuckles, leaning back to catch the last bit of sun on her face.

"Luckily you know better." Deyna says and y/n hums.

"Well..." She teases, but she begins to laugh as Deyna's hands begin to poke and squeeze at her sides, tickling her into a breathy apology.

In her squirming, neither have seemed to notice y/n has wriggled herself sideways across Deyna's lap and the tanned woman sighs softly, leaning down and pressing a light kiss to y/n's reddening cheek.

"I'm very glad you made that bet with Alex." Deyna hums as she pulls y/n into her chest, switching her to face forward so the tennis player's back was against Deyna's chest.

The football player sunk further into the trunk of the tree she was resting on as y/n's head fell back against her shoulder, enjoying the feeling of Deyna's arms around her.

"Same." y/n laughed, the bet being made on the day of the final in her head.

"you win a set by an ace today, tonight you kiss Deyna." Alex offered her hand outstretched.

"Alex I met her yesterday?" y/n answered confused.

"And? She's been your crush for years, and you're hers!" Alex fights back, a smirk on her face.

"Ace?" y/n asks, as her hand comes up to shake her best friend's.

"Ace." Alex confirms and the two shake hands.

"Yeah, I'm really glad I made that bet." y/n repeats and Deyna laughs as she cranes her head down, her lips pressing into y/n's.

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END

I really got into this one … is it obvious ?? 😂😂

apologies if the Spanish and Polish was off it was ALL google translate xoxoxoxox

requests are open and I am super grateful to all the love for these xo

Queenie xx

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#social media woso #woso #woso x reader #woso x y/n #deyna castellanos #deyna castellanos x reader #woso x tennis player #woso imagines #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso community

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