#brazil ladies cup

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8Nnp7L6/

i- oh my god?

hey, thanks for the ask. not posting the video you linked because it starts with a picture of rolfö, who has nothing to do with the incident, so don't want to be misleading 🤔

but anyway, here's breakdown from journalistic sources about a racist incident in women's football between grêmio (brasil) and river plate (argentina), in which river plate footballers made racist gestures towards a ball boy and the opposing team, and six players were suspended. four river plate players were subsequently arrested. they have been detained through christmas and remain in prison for racial offences.

river plate has now been expelled from the ladies cup and will be banned for participating in the tournament for the next two years. the tournament has also said that it will also work on creating guidelines to prevent these types of actions from happening in the future.

but this is a sad reminder that 2025 starts in a few days and we still have a long way to go when it comes to racial justice in this world! 😵‍💫

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

‘Stede Bonnet, lover of Beauty’

Stede rocks the Aestheticism ideal 150 years before it exists. The movement sought to place beauty for beauty’s sake at the centre of art and literature. It also influenced attitudes towards clothes, furnishings and food as extensions of artistic beauty.

Stede weaves beauty into every aspect of life. His clothing speaks for itself. A library, not just arranged practically, but adorned with both gossamer and red velvet curtains. A ship, not just well-constructed with the finest cherry wood from Brazil, but with secret passageways, chandeliers (two!) and hanging artwork.

Yes, the beauty aesthetic is made possible through wealth, but Stede also finds beauty in the small things. A near-dead plant flourishes in its beauty under Stede’s care. ‘Old food’ is the ‘perfect paperweight’. Even Ed’s modest fish is deemed beautiful. We also see Stede’s influence on Frenchie and Wee John as they explore the aesthetic possibilities for their nook. It’s as much about attitude as money. Ed has ‘more riches than you can shake a stick at’ yet struggles to recognise the necessity of finding and celebrating beauty in everyday life. Self-esteem and class consciousness playing a huge part in this.

A moment on deck exemplifies further beauty found in small things. Stede, a parody of an Edwardian lady in a birds-of-paradise tea-gown. Impractical china tea-cup in hand. This isn’t pageantry. It’s ritual as beauty. Creative self-care. Food as art. And Ed understands the assignment with his milk dollops and excessive sugaring.

We see Ed cling desperately to the beauty of food, clothing and music as creative self-care after Stede’s departure, before eschewing the aesthetic altogether in favour of self-imposed austerity as he enters the Kraken spiral. The removal of beauty and its associated softness, a soul death.

And Stede again. He’s so steeped in Beauty for Beauty’s sake, any attempt at practical cartography gives way to artistic licence (‘Is that Cuba? It’s hard to tell. I’ve drawn it myself’), love poetry and daydream-doodled miniatures. Whilst an abacus is a percussion instrument (‘musical’).

We joke about Ed as the ultimate in Stede’s quest for beauty. But I don’t think Stede ever includes Ed personally in aestheticism (I say more about the objectification of Ed here). It’s not how Stede views people. Ed’s purpose isn’t to be beautiful, he just happens to be beautiful. Ed’s purpose is to be Ed.

Other than that, for Stede, art is everywhere. Beauty in the big and the small things. And ultimate meta? That’s what OFMD is. A whacking great fuck-off piece of beautiful art. It’s creative self-care we can indulge in daily like overly-sugared tea. The cult of Beauty is alive and well, and we’re not going anywhere. Stede would so be a fan of our show. I think Ed would grow to like it too.

[girlactionfigure]

jonnydaniels

With great sadness I learnt that Holocaust Survivor Esther Brand Stamfater passed away earlier this week. She was a remarkable lady. Born in 1929 in Krasnik, Poland, she survived the Holocaust by hiding in the forests with partisans. After her miraculous survival she met another survivor born in Ryki, Poland, they got married and together were able to get to Bolivia with the hope of one day getting to Brazil, where he had family. The World Cup of 1950 in Brazil provided that opportunity, he was able to get permission to come to watch the football, whilst here he started working and convinced the officials to allow him to continue working and bring his family. Together they built a beautiful family that became incredibly active and connected to communal life in Brazil. I had the profound honor of visiting with her in April and writing a letter together with her in our Survivor Torah. Her amazing grandson wrote to me this morning “My grandma left this world on Monday. I believe that maybe her last mission was to sign the letter from the tora… thank you very much.” There are sadly now less than 300 survivors left in Brazil and fewer every single day around the world.

May her memory be a blessing.

[iinsertblognamee]

hello new york

summary ― sam gets signed to play for the western new york flash team

pairing ― sam kerr x reader

warning/s ― fluff, mentions of injury

masterlist

Not even two days after arriving back home from Cyprus did your world completely flip. 

Sam had been offered a sport in the Western New York Flash team playing in the National’s Women Soccer League. It was a big deal and you knew she had to take it - even if it meant leaving the country for the first time without you. 

Logically you both knew you would be able to come over and visit, as well as play in the Asian World Cup in a few months. But this was different to last time, this wasn’t just on the other side of the country, it was the other side of the world. 

Bags were packed within the week and after the win against Brazil in Brisbane when it was time to fly home, you went one way and Sam went another. 

You never got used to Sam not being around, but you got the hang of long-distance fast enough. You both had block-out times every day where you would both be contactable. You had all her games in the calendar, ready to watch them regardless of the time over here. 

It felt a lot longer than a month before you saw each other again. It was hard seeing each other for the first time and not being able to hide away, training for the Women’s World Cup taking over. Thankfully you were given the nights in your shared hotel to make up for lost time. 

The games were rough, your ankle playing up in the second game causing you to sub off halfway through the game. You watched on the sideline as your team won 3 - 1 to Jordan. Turns out your ankle was now placed as a stress fracture, being benched for the rest of the World Cup. It sucked, sitting there watching the girls go out and play but you knew (from last time) not to push yourself and let it heal properly. 

After many talks with your physio, you were given the all-clear for air travel, deciding to use your break to head back over to New York with Sam. Tickets were booked (although you had to change Sam’s booking so that you two could be together on the flight over, which she didn’t know about) the excitement of your plan helped you through the annoyance of not being able to play. 

The World Cup ended as fast as it came, the team saying their goodbyes as they all started making their way to wherever they were heading. It had taken Sam three seconds to realise what exactly she was looking at when you handed her the tickets and passports. Her arms wrapped around you as she spun you around. 

“You’re coming with me? To New York?” you nodded your head in response, laughter leaving both your lips and she brought you in for a kiss. 

“God, I love you so so much”. 

After a meeting with your physio, Sam asked every question under the sun to ensure it was okay for you to come and all the information she would need over there, you were off. You held Sam’s hand through lift off, taking her mind off the flight by telling her stories she had missed while being away. 

The flight was hard on your body, the pressure of the plane as well as not being able to move around and use it caused your ankle to swell up. Sam massaged it as best as she could, asking for ice to create an ice pack for you and when you cried, she brought your head into her neck, rubbing your back trying to soothe you in any way possible. 

You managed to pass out during the 7th and 8th hour on the flight, your armrest between you and Sam up, so you could lay on her without either of you being stabbed. Sam continued to watch your face, looking for any sign of discomfort as she played with your hair. The lady who was sitting in the aisle seat kept looking over at the pair of you, Sam waited for the comments to start, she didn’t care what this lady had to say. Her girlfriend was in pain. 

“You two make a lovely couple” 

Sam almost missed it the way she whispered it, being mindful of you asleep in her lap. Sam looked up at the lady to see a small smile on her face. 

“Thank you” 

She throws her hand in the air to say no need to thank me before adding “You two remind me of me and my husband, back when we were young” 

Sam smiles in response, looking back down to you, pushing the hair that had fallen off your forehead. A few seconds pass, Sam thinking the lady was uninterested anymore, as she looked back up. 

“Is she the one?” a small glint in the lady’s eye causing Sam to let out a small laugh, nodding her head. 

“Yeah, she’s the one”.

[david-goldrock]

Prrrrah Yeah Ben El Tavorinio Statubom Jordalechi De me uma batida legal! (Give me a cool beat!)

Uh, Batida legal (Uh, cool beat) Doing a carnaval Flying to space Easy

It's a carnaval here, like in São Paulo, So come and listen to me niña (girl) Stop being Cachaça, it's hot with you like Caipirinha Gatinha (kitten? Sexy lady?) you're loca (crazy), let's shut everyone's boca (mouth) If you thought that I'm from Brazil - Then how is it that your entire body is mocha colored? One hand with the cup in the air L'chaim, Salute, Cheers This is the city that it's better to meet, and if you met already - start to sing:

Oy, Tel Aviv, how much is everything pretty to you Not for nothing do they say "wine will rejoice a human heart" (hebrew phrase) Today we celebrate like in the middle of the Favela (Slum) Here we say it's fine and there they say that tudo tudo bom (all is well) Hey tudo tudo bom Hey tudo tudo bom All is fine, tudo bom, tudo bom, tudo bom

Berimbau!

You came all the way here, it must be the rhythm that made you come Or you'd say that not - give me a second i'd fix it for you Her body's Lambada, (literally - to cry, or she left, also a kind of music) look at the Toccata (literally - to touch, also a kind of music) There will be a disaster here She is not from France so tell me yourself, how did you eat my croissant (Maybe a wordplay on corazon - heart) The difference between you and the rest At nights, you celebrate in secret Tel Aviv, Israel, and beyond Tudo bom, All is fine!

Oy, Tel Aviv, how much is everything pretty to you Not for nothing do they say "wine will rejoice a human heart" (hebrew phrase) Today we celebrate like in the middle of the Favela (Slum) Here we say it's fine and there they say that tudo tudo bom (all is well) Hey tudo tudo bom Hey tudo tudo bom All is fine, tudo bom, tudo bom, tudo bom

Ey Jordalecce, isso nao combina com voce, me da um samba! (Hey Jordalecce, this doesn't suit you, give me a samba!)

There are rumers about her that she declined everyone here There are rumors about him that no one ever told him no There's a chance it'll happen only if you will be direct with her There's a chance it'll happen only if you know how to sing

Oh oh, eh oh eh oh, All is well, Tudo bom Oh oh, eh oh eh oh, All is well, Tudo bom Oh oh, eh oh eh oh, All is well, Tudo bom Oh oh, eh oh eh oh, All is well, Tudo bom.

[ihaveforgortoomany]

Speculation on certain someone, future answers about them in 2.2 and beyond

Major 1.9 spoilers and beyond, speculation on a character and what answers we may get from them.

Edit (Global Friendly as of 2.2's Global release)

We can confirm by 2.2 Urd, Martha and Bessmert are the same person: the "friend from afar" and the "blind lady", and it is clear we may be seeing her more in the 2.0 storyline and possibly getting answers to whether or not she is Vertin's mother, or at the very least related to her (since this bit isn't confirmed outright I would throw this possibility here just in case).

1.9 really had throw us a curve ball in having Martha appear there, looking exactly like Besmert from 1.6 and showing Martha being erased by the Storm of 1914; only for someone who sounds and looks like her to appear in Brazil and to have seemingly found Vertin unconscious on the floor.

I want to speculate why is she here, why help Vertin in the first place? As mentioned in a previous she seems to be posing as a medic or doctor in Sao Paulo after learning about her whereabouts from Barbara. Either the medical equipment she is wearing (Im writing this because I cannot spell) is just to treat Vertin since she literally and likely was found as the only person alive surrounded by dead Zeno officers as we know unlike Vertin she takes on a more observant no intereference role than Vertin's more on hands approach. Bessmert seemingly only takes direct action of push comes to shove, as seen in the 1.6 story. Why now?

So far we know Bessmert has personally visited the Pei City, London in the 1960s and Rayashki before the arrival of Windsong. Going back to the 1.1 story the "blind lady" asks about a newspaper that discusses the Rimet Cup, and we know the events of 1.1 happen very close to the events of the Prologue, it is unclear if Bessmert is following Vertin's actions and movements from a distance.

In some game emails are addressed by "friend from afar" and as far as Ive seen usually talk about the event stories.

Why Brazil? Likely our answers may lie partially in Tristes Tropiques the Travel Writing by Levi-Straus, potentially Bessmert is once again observing and recording the stories of people she encounters, much like Notes of Shori and Rayashki. I hope this patch might explore Bessmert more as a character and especially if we can finally see her and Vertin interact (unless you count Martha). Not only are we getting Zeno more fleshed out but potentially UTTU as well with the introduction of Barbara. While this patch may focus on Anjo Nala and Lopera specifically, I think in terms of arcs and the fact that we are likely gonna be in Brazil for a bit Bessmert may be the overarching focus.

I also think with the upcoming 2.0 story, if the 1.0 story was focused on us finding a way to save people from the Storm then 2.0 may focus on finding out the truth of Vertin's mom.

On that note theres a bunch of questions for Vertin's mom:

Why were they separated?

Why was she on a hospital bed being strained?

Why does the Foundation deny her existence?

Does she possess Storm Immunity like Vertin? If so is it inherited or part of their arcane skill as we do not know the full capacity of Vertin's arcanum?

Did she know Constantine? Do they have history?

If Bessmert is Vertin's mom, why not seek her out directly? Does she want Vertin to see something with her own eyes?

What happened at the very first Storm? Was she potentially directly involved?

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Argentine women's soccer players released in Brazil after racist incident

A Brazilian judge has released from prison four players from the River Plate women’s soccer team who were arrested for an alleged racial slur during a match

Four players from the River Plate women’s soccer team who were arrested for an alleged racial slur during a match have been released says Sao Paulo state’s prison administration secretariat.

Judge Fernando Oliveira Camargo freed Argentine footballers Candela Díaz, Camila Duarte, Juana Cángaro and Milagros Díaz from prison on Friday on condition they show up in court in Sao Paulo every month until the case is finished.

The names of the four footballers were published in a document outside the Carandiru penitentiary in Sao Paulo as being released late Friday. The Argentine players spent Christmas in jail. Neither their lawyer nor their club revealed on Saturday whether they have returned home.

On Dec. 21, a Brazil Ladies Cup semifinal between River and Brazil ‘s Grêmio was stopped in the first half after Díaz made apparent monkey gestures to a ball boy, which was caught in broadcast footage. A brawl started and Grêmio players walked off in protest.

Continue reading.

[zyonsay]

141 as single Dads: Hcs!

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Warnings: Overdose of Dad, Ghost is a pissy lil bitch,

Now playing: Arkansas Daughter by Lady Lamb

AN: Somehow i got another little snippet of inspiration! :]

Captain John Price

He was READY to be a dad. You were definitely a planned child and he made absolutely sure that EVERYTHING was perfect before you'd be born. (Only for you to pop out much after the due date)

His partner had left him when you were about 4/5 and he was motivated to be the best dad ever, even when raising you alone is a bit more challenging. His time management skills were upped for sure.

He is kinda strict when it comes to going out or for example your first relationship, BUT he does understand that he needs to let loose from time to time.

He DEFINITELY taught you self defense as soon as he deemed you ready for it. He probably also snuck you into a shooting range once or twice to teach you how to handle a firearm. Just in case.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

To be honest, you were not planned at all. He personally would've waited a few more years with starting a family. But just because you weren't planned doesn't mean that he doesn't love you. He is your number one supporter in ANY situation.

He understands the importance of his presence very well and wants to do a good job raising you. Being a single dad is hard, especially when he is quite young but he tries his very best.

Gaz is more on the chill side of things when it comes to your personal liberties. I mean he was a teenager not too long ago, so i think he can relate to you when you want to test your limits. BUT he is also a responsible man. He mostly let's you do whatever you want, but he is not blind to danger. He will most definitely lecture you when you cross the limits.

One of Gaz' main priorities is supporting you and your interests. You're into art? He will do anything to get you appropriate supplies! You like cars? Some of his friends work at race tracks, he'll secure you an apprenticeship for sure! You're interested in Biology? Kyle will help you save up for a scientific exchange to Brazil!

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny was NOT prepared for a child, but he loves you TO DEATH. He'll literally do ANYTHING for you. Soap will brag about you whenever he can, especially to his Buddy Ghost.

Random deep talks at 3 am with a cup of coffee (or a beaker of sirup, depends on your age) are a regular occurrence in your small family. "Hey, kid. Have ye ever thought about..."

Soap is overprotective asf and will be extra careful with who he lets you hang out with. This also goes for your first (or every) Relationship! Im sure he'll also ask his Buddies to keep an eye out for you.

Goof ass Dad jokes and we all know it.

I know for a fact that he has a video diary of your whole childhood to look back on when you're older. Your first coin from the tooth fairy, your favorite Christmas present, the first time you sat on a pony at the fair or that moment he introduced the tall and scary Ghost to you.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He will make sure you'll have the most AMAZING childhood ever, not wanting anyone else to go trough whatever he did. He spoils you, but makes sure you don't turn out to be an entitled brat.

He is not a big talker, but he gives you gentle hugs or lets you hold his Pinky with your tiny little toddler hands. Im sure he also plays with you when you ask him to.

When you get a little bit older (Like your teen years) he starts talking more and also adresses important things like communicating your worries and feelings to him. He knows how important those few years are for your development. He will let you live your life, but he will also guide you when he deems it necessary.

Simon is definitely judgmental towards anyone new entering your life. He only wants THE BEST for his little sunshine. I think he'd be especially protective over you when it comes to romantic relationships, he knows how emotional hurt can affect a human.

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Hi!

9 from that pick a number prompt ☺️

finally, I have it finished here on ao3 or under the cut

Louis wanting to meet in Maceió isn’t much of a surprise.  It’s been a few months since the book has been released, and it’s doing better than anticipated.  His agent is talking about a movie deal; he wants Regé-Jean Page to play Louis and Marsai Martin for Claudia.  Daniel told him to lower his ambitions.  

They are walking along the coast of the moonlit beach, Louis’ private beach.  It leads back to the large cottage up the hill, where Louis currently lived.  Brazil suits Louis, he seems happy here.  

He’s just telling him so, albeit with a lot more snark, when his phone rings.  He picks it up with a sigh.  “I’m telling you, Alfred Enoch isn’t gonna bite.  You gotta cast an unknown.  Find someone who can bring the character to life.”  

Louis looks amused by the whole thing.  

“Look, I gotta go, I'm with a friend.  No, not a lady friend, you nosy prick.”

Louis arches an eyebrow.  “Is there a lady friend?”

Daniel hates that, it overlaps in his head and he can’t make sense of it.  “Not now,” he says to Louis, “...yeah, I’ll call you back.”

Daniel considers throwing his phone into the ocean.  

“You didn’t answer the question, Daniel.”

Daniel huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.  “It’s not what it sounds like.”

His pace slows and he eventually comes to a stop.  He sits down and lets the water lap over his feet.  Louis sits down next to him, toes buried in the sand.  “It’s Armand.  He’s been…following me.  At first I thought he was gonna kill me, but honestly I think he’s just lonely since you dumped him.”  

Louis looks at him carefully.  “Armand is following you?”

“I mean, mostly,” Daniel says.  

He might have gotten Armand’s cell number from Louis once upon a time, as a safety precaution.  But he called him before this visit and said “We both know you’re gonna follow behind me in your fancy private jet; so why not cut the cost and ride together?”  

Armand had been stunned into silence for a brief moment, then, miraculously he laughed.  He’d told Daniel the time and place to meet.  Naturally, he had already booked them both hotel rooms.  Adjacent to each other, but no connection between them.  Of course, Armand booked him a luxury room with a view and a balcony overlooking the sea.  It is heavenly.

What was Daniel supposed to do, walk away from paradise?  There’s probably a metaphor somewhere in there about forbidden fruit and temptation, but Daniel doesn’t want to think about it.  

Louis catches all that, from the look on his face.  “ Ah , that’s how it is.”

“What?” Daniel says, confused.  

“You and Armand.”

Daniel is literally stunned speechless.  “Me and Armand?”

Louis smiles and shakes his head.  “You don’t even see it.  Thought you were supposed to be some big shot reporter, and you can’t see what’s staring you in the face.”

“What, that he has some weird fixation on me?  That’s all because of you, buddy.”

Louis laughs, and it crinkles his nose.  “What does Armand do when he finds you?”

“Bitch and moan, mostly,” Daniel says easily.  

“He says, without a trace of fear,” Louis says.  Daniel lets the gravity of the words sink in.  

He’s not afraid of Armand.  Not anymore.  He isn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way his fear had become anger, anger had become irritation. Irritation had become annoyance, had become something close to endearment.  

“Ok, so what?”

“Oh my god,” Louis cups his face, “Daniel, you’re in love with him.”

Daniel pushes Louis’ hands off.  “It’s not like that; I’m just used to him, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”

Daniel leans back on his hands and sets a sharp gaze on Louis.  “You seem surprisingly chill for a guy who thinks his only friend wants to rawdog his ex.”

“Is that how you think it would go?” Louis says.  “He’d eat you alive.  Maybe literally.”

“Psh,” Daniel fishes his cigarettes out of his pocket and lights up.  “That guy is wound so tight; he needs somebody to shatter him.  Might help him loosen up a bit.”

“Good luck at the job,” Louis says, and gives a little salute.  It occurs to Daniel that Louis has been sipping nothing but tourists on cocktails and is probably a little drunk.  

“I never applied for the job,” Daniel says.  “Armand isn’t my problem.”

“Oh, he is one hundred percent your problem,” Louis says.  “Or did you not pick up that when he falls, he falls hard?  To an extreme.”

Louis’ jaw clenches a little at the end, but he shakes it off.  “Don’t worry, Daniel; Armand is terrified of rejection.  You’ll have to make the first move.”

“Easy enough; I won’t do anything,” Daniel says.  He rises to his feet.  Armand is probably in his hotel room by now.  If he gets bored he starts snooping.  

Louis rises beside him.  They walk in silence back to the cottage.  Daniel sees Louis to his door, and for a moment, there’s a beat between them.  It fades as quickly as it was born.  In another time, another place they coulda’ woulda’ been.  Still, Louis catches his hand before Daniel can walk away.  “Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“You have my blessing.  For Armand.  He’s…you’ll be good for him.”

“Yeah? He’ll be terrible for me,” Daniel says, but he’s already becoming a little resigned to the idea.  Not of a romance per-see, but of having Armand around for the indefinite future.  

The funny thing is; he doesn’t entirely hate the idea.  Louis' face turns smug next to him.  "Shut up, Louis.  It'll never happen."

"Famous last words."

[beemovieerotica]

Can you explain more about the assigned-male-at-brazil visa thing like did you fill out the paperwork and the employee looked at it and said you did it wrong?? How did that even happen

oh gosh yeah.

I filled out the paperwork by hand and brought it to the brazilian consulate in Asunción, and I guess I had a lot of tgirl swag that day (hair in a messy ponytail, hadn't shaved my upper lip, tanktop with the straps askew, angelically husky voice because of untreated chronic respiratory problems.)

so the lady at the counter looks it over and types it in, prints it out, shows it to me for approval. I read it over and instantly I'm like, "hey, you marked M, but I'm actually female. can you fix that?"

no language gap here because we're both speaking English, and the portuguese is still Masculino/Feminino anyway so it's not like I mixed those up in writing. my US passport also says female. which she had to look at. and scan. I even point this out.

I'm confident now that I also X'ed out the mistake on the print out and wrote in female next to it

she looks me up and down with this very weird look and takes the paperwork back very slowly and says "okay."

I go sit down with my friends again and we wait however long it takes until each of us is seen again.

second round of "look this over" approval. it still says male. I tell the lady again, kind of frustrated at this point, "hey, I'm female," and I'm starting to get the hint that she doesn't believe me so I change tactics, and now my argument is, "it would be bad if the gender on my visa is inconsistent with the gender on my passport. and only one of those can be changed right now."

I return to my seat. finally after hours of bureaucratic nonsense we get our passports with the visas stuck inside, I happily retrieve mine and we head back to the taxi and when I look at it I'm like. wait a minute.

😩

but yeah luckily it never came up at any border checkpoints, i imagine it happened sometimes with trans people anyway (this was back in 2014 and I genuinely don't know what brazil's politics were at the time with respect to gender).

and we were on a deadline for the world cup and I didn't want to risk doing it all over again to try and fix one thing, so it's been in my passport for the past however many years until it expired. 🤷‍♂️

[voicesinthedarkness]

dreams

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

“Tasha…”

“What is it, Clint?”

He leans forward, his woodsmoke scent comforting and warm, and rests a hand on her cheek. Natasha closes her eyes, leaning into his familiar touch.

Then his lips are pressed to hers.

~ ~ ~

Natasha shoots up from her pillow, gasping. What the fuck was that? she wonders, pushing the blankets off and getting out of bed. Usually she has nightmares, the kind where she screams her way through the night—which is why she lives out in the country, so that no one can hear her—but that had actually been a good dream.

Never mind the fact that she’d been kissing Clint.

As Natasha heads out to the chicken coop for eggs, though, she starts to remember things: stuff Clint had said (“I don’t know what I’d do if you ended up in the hospital during a mission.”), stuff she had said (“I didn’t give you permission to die!!”)… the time Clint got drunk and had to sleep over at her house, and then she woke up and he’d gotten into her bed and was spooning her. She’d felt safe then, at least until she realized she was sleeping in the same bed as her drunk best friend. And it was the first night in a long time when she hadn’t had nightmares. It was… weird.

After breakfast, Natasha decides to put it aside for now. Fury said he’d have a mission soon, and she doesn’t need to be dealing with romance angst during that.

9:26AM

Clint: https://www.reddit.com/r/Catmemes/comments/iyug0e/trust_me/

Did he just—

You: did you just send me a cat meme

Clint: yeah

Clint: you got any?

You: …

You: apparently there’s a whole tumblr thread about cats talking like they’re neglected victorian children?

Clint: lol sounds like cats

10:01AM

Clint: thanks for the meme by the way

Clint: didn’t think you’d actually send one

You: I didn’t know you liked cat memes

You: and you asked for one, so I found one

You: you’re welcome

Clint: :)

You: thanks for sending me one

Clint: of course nat

~ ~ ~

Sure enough, Fury calls her a week later while she’s reading with a cup of tea. “Mission in Brazil,” he says, brusque as always. “Urgent.” Click. “Bastard,” Natasha grumbles, quickly finishing her tea and grabbing her mission bag.

Natasha knows he doesn’t boss her around because he’s a man and she’s a “lady”. It’s just Fury, and she likes that he treats her the same way he does Clint.

2:47PM

You: Clit

Clint: ??

You: CLINT

You: we’ve got a mission

Clint: ah ok

Christ. Romance angst and now she’s texting slang for female body parts. On accident, sure, but it’s still embarrassing.

Natasha arrives at the Triskelion soon after and heads up to Fury’s office. Clint gets there a few minutes later and they head in.

“There are Russians in Brazil, calling themselves the Красные ангелы—the Red Angels,” Fury says. “It might be the Red Room, it might not be. Be as cautious as if it were.” Clint and Natasha nod, Clint’s hand brushing hers. She jumps, yanking her hand away and trying to disguise it by running the hand through her red-gold curls. “Here’s the dossier,” Fury continues, handing Natasha a folder. “Be careful.”

~ ~ ~

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

Clint watches Nat in the QuinJet’s pilot seat, brow slightly furrowed.

“Nat,” he says finally. “Are you okay?” She nods tightly. “You’ve… never reacted like that. To me touching your hand.” He rests a hand on her shoulder, feeling the bunched-up muscles. “I’m fine, Clint,” she gets out, but she only relaxes after he rubs her shoulders.

In a small clearing, Natasha lands the jet, skillful as always, and they step out into the humid rainforest around Manaus, Brazil. “Yuck,” Natasha mutters, waving away a mosquito. Clint chuckles, watching her pull out a map and compass and examine them, then point to the left. “Okay, it’s that way.”

Five minutes later, they’re peeking through the trees at their destination.

~ ~ ~

It’s a pretty simple mission. Stealth it, grab the USB S.H.I.E.L.D. saw on a security camera, and scoot. Clint ducks through the front door after Nat disables the alarm, then checks for guards. Clear, he signs. She nods tensely, passing beside him. I’ll follow and stand guard, he offers. You get the USB and whatever else they might have? She nods again in acceptance. They dart through the halls together, finding the file room quickly. “Shit,” Clint whispers, glancing around the small space. “That’s too many files to take at once.” Nat makes a small noise, and he looks over to see her holding a file. He can see her name at the top, in big block Cyrillic letters. Making a decision, Clint takes out the whole file drawer, puts the one Nat found inside, and then grabs the USB. “Come on,” he says firmly, nudging her chin so that she’s looking at him. “We need to go.” She dips her head and they exit the small room, padding down the hallway.

Everything’s still quiet, so the mew is like thunder. Nat turns, tracking a second mew to a door. It creaks open and a small black kitten peers up at them.

“Mak?” a voice grunts from inside. The kitten rubs against Nat’s leg, purring, and she freezes, a small mountain of a man exiting the room. The kitten could fit in his palm. He stares at them, uncomprehending, until he sees the files and the USB, clutched in Clint’s hand. “Hey!” he yells, pulling out his gun. Clint grabs the kitten, which blinks at him calmly even as he swings her onto his shoulders. Then she understands and clings to his neck. Two gunshots boom through the hallway and Natasha cries out. “He hit my lower back—just keep going,” she gasps, firing a shot at the knob to the exit so that they only have to push through, instead of fumbling the knob. The mountain slows eventually, probably deciding it’d be better to stay behind and tell his friends.

They get to the jet within a few minutes. Clint bandages Natasha up, then holds her tightly.

“You didn’t say both hit.”

She buries her face in his chest.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’d worry anyway!”

The kitten meows, pressing against Natasha’s side, and she sighs, rubbing behind the kitten’s tiny black ear. “Thanks for grabbing the cat.” Clint sighs too, kissing the top of her head and getting in the pilot seat. “You’re welcome.”

~ ~ ~

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

What in the heck was that kiss on her head supposed to mean?!

Natasha sits on the bench in the jet, petting the kitten and staring at the wall, finally indulging in her angst. Those memories, the dream, sending cat memes… and now this. The way she felt when Clint hugged her.

Do I have a crush?

“What pizza do you want?” Clint asks, and Natasha jumps. He’s landing the jet on the roof of the Helicarrier. “Oh, uh—meat lover’s.” Clint nods and helps her down the ramp.

He orders after the debrief (and Fury taking the file drawer), when they’re off the Helicarrier, since it has terrible Wi-Fi. “Where do you want to eat? Your house?” Clint suggests, and Natasha makes a sound of agreement, senses entirely focused on her hand in his. Oh, god, she’s falling hard.

At the house, Clint gets the pizza from the door, then plates and napkins. They eat on the couch, not speaking, the kitten exploring the house. “Movie?” Clint says finally. Natasha shrugs, turning to hide her blush at the thought of being in the dark, right next to him. She can feel his stare.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks after a long moment. “You’ve been... off ever since I sent you the cat meme.” He shifts closer, his woodsmoke scent relaxing her. “I had a dream the night before,” she says quietly. “About, um, you kissing me.” Clint touches her arm gently. “I didn’t know you had those kinds of dreams.” She looks up at him nervously. “I don’t.” Her breath shudders, emerald eyes locked with his. She’d never noticed how pretty the color was before, a perfect shade of stormy blue-grey.

“Do you remember when you got drunk?” Natasha whispers. “Do I ever,” Clint snorts. She looks away, embarrassed. “I… I felt safe with you. And I didn’t understand. I was confused and a little scared, and I’m sorry.” Clint takes her hand, smiling a little. “Thanks, Nat.” And then they’re just sitting there, in silence, her smooth, cool hand in his, callused and warm.

Natasha knows he won’t make the first move. She can see his desire, and she knows he can see hers, but that’s not Clint. He’d never forgive himself if he kissed Natasha and she didn’t want it. So she slips her hand from his, pulls him even closer, and presses a kiss to his lips. Clint hums softly, happily, fingers playing with her curls. A tear slides down her cheek, the little traitor falling into their mouths. “Tasha,” he murmurs, pulling back but not away. “Tasha, why are you crying?” She stares at him, blinking fast. “I’ve—I’ve never—it’s always been fake. I don’t know how—”A broken sob rips from her mouth, and he pulls her to his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispers into her hair, holding her as she cries.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DD-J1YJxN0z/?igsh=MTIzdWNpemFtYml6aA==

Es el Racismo Inaceptable? Si completamente, pero toda la situación legal se está saliendo de las manos, el procedimiento de dejarlas completamente incomunicadas y no permitir contacto con nadie más que la abogada, hace parecer que hayan prendido fuego el estadio, repito el racismo me parece completamente inaceptable, pero tampoco son criminales peligrosas como para ni siquiera permitirles una llamada a las familias.

Hace 7 días que las jugadoras están presas y pese a que River ya haya pagado la fianza hace 3 días, desde Brasil el juez sigue negando la excarcelación. Las jugadoras hoy no deberían estar presas y el hecho de que no las liberen después de la fianza está mal

a ver. por qué actuamos como si estas jugadoras fueran heroínas y estuvieran detenidas injustamente?? 🤔 por supuesto, a las personas detenidas se les debería permitir ejercer sus derechos (y estas jugadoras ya han sido liberadas), pero lo que no aprecio es la minimización de sus delitos. los comentarios hacen parecer que brasil las discrimina sin justificación y no estoy de acuerdo con eso.

mira, we should respect the rights of detained persons and their access to justice. but this video, this account, and the comments on it make it seem like brasil has discriminated against the river plate players and it's a conspiracy against them. 😵‍💫 perdón? they are the players who engaged in racist gestures and abuse. no one forced them to act that way.

and to your ask, why are racist acts and abuse not given the same weight as someone who starts a fire in the stadium? pero qué dices? por qué no? why do we view racism as something to give a slap on the wrist? just silly girls acting in the heat of the moment? i'm sorry no. there needs to be zero tolerance for that type of behaviour. because racism is violent aggression. period.

and the fact that some media outlets (like the one you linked) are acting as if these players are like brittney griner (being detained in russia on a technicality as a political move), when in reality this is a completely different situation. racism is something that needs to be dealt with seriously! it's not a joke. 😤 (the players have been released by the way...)

and i'm not going to even get into the history of racism in argentina and brasil. you can read about that on your own!

[lovecaterpillargirl]

An ever-fixed mark

While I’m waiting for my AO3 request to be approved I thought I’d post the first chapter of the Avengers fanfic I’m writing on here. This one has been rattling around in my head for while. I hope I do the characters justice. 

Chapter 1

That morning began like any other. Emma woke at 6am. She showered and put on her suit. She didn’t need to be in the office as much as she was but, work was her life now and, despite it not holding the same excitement as her past exploits, she enjoyed her job. She liked her colleagues and felt it was her vocation in life to keep her father’s company going; Knight Industries was one of the last bastions of UK engineering and Emma viewed its continuation as her way to serve Queen and Country and honour the memory of her dear father. Unlike her father, she had no heirs to take over but, when the time was right, she planned to hand the company over to her Deputy CEO, Caroline Lawson, a smart young woman of 27, who’d worked her way up from the typing pool, over the course of 10 years and had proven herself to be just as shrewd a businesswoman and as formidable in the boardroom as Emma, as well as a good friend. Still, Emma Knight had no plans to relinquish her company just yet; it gave her status, freedom, wealth and a sense of purpose. Lord knows she’d needed all of that over the last decade.

That morning, as always, she headed to the kitchen, to make her first coffee of the day. She could find her way around her old Primrose Hill apartment in her sleep and it had been comforting to have somewhere so familiar to call home, after her divorce. When Peter had returned from Brazil, she’d rented the place out; she told herself (and him) that it held too many memories for her to sell it. However, in the back of her mind, she thought she must have known she’d return here someday. She must have known things would never go back to the way they’d been between her and Peter, not after living as a widow for so long, not after the Ministry, not after John Steed.

As the coffee percolated, she went to the front door to retrieve the morning paper. She rarely ate breakfast, so it was always coffee and the morning paper before leaving for work. She was usually behind her desk for 8am. Later she’d tell herself she’d gotten an odd feeling that morning, as she reached down to pick the newspaper up from her doormat. Perhaps it had been old Mr Edwards, across the hall, who’d just been closing his door and had given her a slightly odd look. Emma thought, perhaps he was apprehensive about her getting up to her old tricks, now she was back and having that “noisy man in the bowler hat” come round and disturb the peace. She smiled to herself; there wasn’t a day that went by she didn’t engage in some fond memory of Steed. Since the phone call about Paris, she’d been thinking of him more and more. She was working up the courage to go to his house; he’d written and asked soon after they’d spoken “dinner, at a day and time of your choosing”, she just had to give him a call. He’d enclosed his number. That had been 2 months ago. Well, 2 months, 1 week and 3 days, to be precise. And she would do it. Tomorrow she would do it. She knew Steed would want to write and ask her again, even call again, or turn up on her doorstep but, he was too proud and too respectful to pester a lady.

At least she thought Steed would like to ask her again. That was until she came to the last few pages of the morning paper and took a glance at the ‘hatches, matches and dispatches’. It was the largest announcement and Emma’s first reaction was to let her almost empty coffee cup clatter back into its saucer, in a most undignified fashion. “The Right Reverend and Mrs James of Berkshire wish to announce the engagement of their daughter Purdey, of The Royal Ballet Company, to Mr John Steed, Socialite, of Buckinghamshire.”

Emma read the announcement again, closed her eyes, opened them and re-read it, in case she’d misread it. In case it was another John Steed. Of course it wasn’t though, there was only one John Steed, Socialite of Buckinghamshire and he was currently one of the most eligible bachelors in Britain. At least he had been. Emma felt her world tilt on its axis. Who was Purdey? The young woman he worked with? She’d seen a blonde with short hair in an Embassy photo recently, from some party. They’d been accompanied by another man, very modern looking, whose name she couldn’t recall. But, she remembered the girl had been called something unusual and referred to as a member of the Royal Ballet. However, the way the two of them flanked Steed, with members of foreign agencies present, she’d known they were from the Ministry.

Oh god, what was she going to do? What could she do? Rush to his house and yell at them? Steed was a free agent. He’d asked her to dinner over 2 months ago and she’d yet to respond. He likely thought she was no longer interested in him. She’d blown it. But Purdey? And just 2 months into their relationship it seemed, given he’d asked Emma on a date. Perhaps it hadn’t been a date. Perhaps Emma had been mistaken and Steed was only being friendly when he’d asked her to dinner, “for old time’s sake”. Dear god, she remembered how young Purdey had looked in that Embassy picture. At least 25 years his junior. It was wrong. What could he offer her?

Emma suddenly felt sick. What could Steed offer a young woman? Maturity, excitement, sophistication, eccentricity, intelligence, respect, wealth, adoration, status. He could offer a lot and some young women wanted a man like Steed for his experience and the emancipated way he treated a woman.

Emma was at the door and in her coat before she realised it. She scooped her car keys from the bowl on the table beside the door and paused. Then, her hands shaking, she went to the phone. It rang for what seemed like an eternity before it was answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Caro. It’s Emma.”

“Em, what’s wrong, you sound awful.” Emma thought she must, as her voice didn’t sound like her own.

“Some bad news. I have to see an old friend, I won’t be in today.”

“That’s fine. I hope it’s not too terrible. You take as long as you need Emma. I’ll hold the fort.”

“Thanks Caro.” Her final words were almost a whisper as she replaced the receiver. She was in disbelief at how affected she was.

As she ran down the stairs to her car, on what seemed like someone else’s legs, she thought she still had no idea what she was going to do. But she knew Steed’s address off by heart, from the letter she’d read and re-read. The Lotus Elan (another legacy of the past she couldn’t bear to part with) seemed to drive itself along the route. She had a vague remembrance of feeling detached from her body behind the wheel before, when Paul Beresford had taken her over with a watch, turning her into a human Cybernaut. She felt there was probably less emotional turmoil during that car journey than there was involved in this. She wondered if the wind was causing her eyes to brim with tears, or the situation. But, before she knew it the gravel of the approach to Steed’s house was crunching under her tyres and she realised there was no turning back now, even if she didn’t really know what she was going to say to him.

She could have parked right outside the house but, she chose to carry on along the driveway and park under the trees, near the stables. There were two Jaguars outside, one bright yellow, one racing green; she assumed the green one was Steed’s. It seemed too much of an imposition to park beside them. She felt dwarfed by the house. She knew Steed had inherited some money and become the archetypal Country Gentleman but, she’d had no idea he was this wealthy. The house was a mansion and the stables extensive, with what appeared to be living quarters for the staff. Steed was a rich man from an aristocratic background. Emma’s father had made his wealth, been knighted and given her an upper class upbringing but, she wasn’t from the same royal stock as Steed. Perhaps that was it, Steed wanted to marry into his own class. Emma chastised herself for those thoughts. Whoever Steed had become now, he’d never been precious about his background, or anyone else’s; she couldn’t imagine Purdey’s father being a Bishop was the reason he’d chosen her as the girl to break him of his bachelordom. Emma felt irrational for thinking it.

Now she was here, she sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the front door, through her rearview mirror. She had no idea what to do. “Drive away” the voice in her head told her. “Steed remembers you as calm and collected, not an emotional wreck. If you’re never going to see him again, don’t leave him with this as his last memory of you.” Emma reached for the key, considering a quick u-turn and a getaway, when the front door opened. She flinched and slid down in her seat, praying whoever was there wouldn’t look towards the car. Two people emerged from the house, the woman Emma assumed was Purdey and the man she remembered from the photo; he was a thoroughly 70’s man about town, all boyish charm, strikingly handsome angular features and a shock of dark wavy hair. Purdey had a slim balletic physique, legs that went on forever and a haughty, aristocratic, intelligent face, with a cheekiness about the eyes; she exuded confidence and modernity, with her boyish blonde bowl cut. Emma’s heart sank, as she could see exactly why Steed would adore her.  From her position near the stables Emma could only catch snippets of the conversation on the wind.

“Of course I’ll … don’t worry… appointed me her…” the man called back towards the house.

“Don’t forget John” Purdey emphasised Steed’s Christian name, we’re… now.” and Purdey gave a coquettish little wave before taking the arm of the young man beside her, both of them walking to the yellow car, grinning, as if sharing a private joke.

Emma glanced back towards the doorway and saw Steed, half in shadow, watching his mentees and fiancé depart. The yellow Jag reversed at speed, shot forwards and left in a cloud of gravel. Emma lost sight of Steed in the dust. When it cleared, she looked back to where she’d last seen him, her heart thumping, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her hands were still on the wheel, her palms felt sweaty. Steed’s door remained wide open but, he wasn’t there. Emma jumped upright in her seat and turned around to check she wasn’t mistaken. That’s when the voice came from beside the passenger door.

“Hello Mrs Peel”. Steed’s voice was unnaturally quiet.

The sneaky devil must’ve seen her car, as Purdey was leaving. He’d walked (probably ran) to the back door of the house and crept up beside her. She turned to look at him, which didn’t do her racing heart much good. He was leaning with both hands on the passenger door, much like he’d done the first time they’d met, when he first introduced himself, after she’d collided with the back of his Bentley.

“Hello Steed.” Her voice was equally unnaturally quiet.

“I left the door open.” He gestured back towards the house, “I thought you might like to join me for a drink.”

Neither of them moved for several seconds. They just stared at one another. If Emma didn’t know better she’d have said Steed had love and sorrow in his eyes but, she did know better. He was in love with someone else now. Perhaps just sorrow then, for the past and her pathetic timing.

“That would be lovely” Emma said, her polite formality sounding alien to her ears. She moved to get out of the car but, like lightening, Steed was round to her side and opening the door for her. He offered his hand. She didn’t take it and for a second, she detected hurt cross his face. But then, the respectable and cheerful mask was back in place.

“This way my dear” and, her legs still not feeling like her own. Emma Knight followed John Steed into his house.

[professionallydeadinside]

ok catboy oc but not really. Still working out the details because i did not intend to create this. His name is Ademir Santos, he's not actually a catboy that's just easier to say. SO from the beginning, his mother is an alien species called a Numira (an original alien species I've kind of had bouncing around my brain for years but haven't spoken to anyone of) which are kind of like a mix between a werewolf and a werecat with some additional features. There are a lot of different variants with different features but the specific kind that his mother is comes from the Mountainous regions of their home planet and have purple fur with blue markings and commonly are equipped with a lean and tall but muscular build, causing them to be the more agile breed. Numira have noses slightly weaker than dogs and can see exceptionally well in the dark, and come with retractable claws that, when scratched, release a venom that leave the victim dead and have fangs that, when bit, leave the victim temporarily paralyzed. This breed of Numira are very strict with a mentality of survival of the fittest and do not tolerate weakness, training for survival in the harsh environment from the moment they can walk. Numira mate for life but have exceptions, such as if offspring were to be born with a birth defect or illness. In that case it is commonly seen as the father's fault and the mother is allowed to leave the child with the father and then move on.

Now that you know the basics of at least the breed and societal norms of Numira, Kimbire came to earth for reasons I haven't decided yet and landed in a rural area in Brazil. She met a farmer named Miguel, fell in love with him and eventually they had a child named Ademir, a boy with purpley-blue hair and some features like his mother, though mostly human. He had her ears and tail, her claws and her goldeny-amber eyes, and although he didn't have blue markings like a conventional Numira, he had little blue freckles on his shoulders and face. As far as they were concerned, he was perfect (for the time being). When he was about two years old, the average age for a Numira to develop their venom, Kimbire had begun teaching him to hunt on the land that Miguel owned, and she became very excited when he first scratched a bird and excitedly ran to show Miguel, but after some time the bird woke up. Events like this went on for some time before Kimbire realized that Miguel's human DNA essentially watered down his venom, and he now was only able to temporarily paralyze victims when scratched and create a numbing sensation when bit. She left Miguel and Ademir, and after a few years Miguel fell sick and unable to care for his son. He asked his sister, Julia, to care for Ademir, but she lived in Gotham City in America.

Ademir moved in with her and began wearing wigs and baggy enough pants to hid his inhuman features. One day, Ademir had fallen sick and Julia had to take him to work with her because she couldn't find a babysitter in time. On her lunch break, Julia took him to a coffee shop to get him a cup of hot tea, but they spent a bit too long inside so she took him through alleyway shortcuts to make it back on time. Just then, a man approached them and kidnapped Julia at gunpoint. Ademir ran to Wayne Enterprises and begged the front desk lady for help, but just then Bruce Wayne strolled in and took over the situation. Bruce called the police and offered to take care of Ademir in Wayne Manor for the time being. For two weeks, there was an investigation and Ademir had the pleasure of meeting Batman during this, which he quickly recognized from his scent as Bruce Wayne, which he chose to keep to himself. Eventually Julia was found dead in the narrows and Ademir became a permanent resident of Wayne Manor. (I know you don't know much about dc lore but Bruce has like 10 kids legally and more mentally and adopts more regularly. The time I am setting this, he has his two oldest children, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, being 19 and 12 respectively, Ademir at this time being 8. Dick at the time would be Nightwing and would live in Bludhaven, a neighboring city rather than being regularly present.)

After a week or so of residency, at the dinner table Ademir confessed that He knew that Bruce was Batman and Jason was Robin, explaining that he was half alien. Bruce recognized the potential that came with his abilities and asked if he wanted to train to be a hero, which he initially declined because he was still adjusting to the city, but after becoming more comfortable in his new home he accepted and after four months of in-house training, he took to the streets as Wolf Spider, the name coming from his obvious physical features and his agility, utilizing training that Grayson had given him when he visited, swinging from building to building with unconventional tools and using acrobatic tactics when fighting.

This is more of his origin story, I imagine "Current" Ademir to be 16 years old, but it's complicated because of the highly debated and never changing ages of the batfamily, and like i said Bruce has 10 legally adopted kids and more mentally adopted kids so it's not easy to pinpoint ages- anyways this was longer than I meant. Sorry lol

YEAHHHHHH CATBOY!!! I love his lore already,,,,,,,

[andiessoccerblog]

Group F Breakdown

Expected to move on: France, Brazil

Expected to exit in group stage: Jamaica, Panama

France

FIFA Ranking: 5

Reputation:

France is one of the rising European powerhouses, but they’ve never fully...risen. They can hang with the best, but they’ve never finished better than 4th place in a World Cup and 5th in the Olympics. Their style of play is very European--smooth and skilled--but they are also known for their vengeful fouls, especially against rival teams Germany and USA. The players mostly play  together in the French league Division 1 Féminine, with about half the squad playing on the same team: Paris Saint-Germain, a total powerhouse in European and International Club football. 

Player Pool: 

Captain Wendie Renard is a 6’2” defender, who is known for headers at both ends of the pitch–she has 44 goals scored for France, despite her position at centerback. However, it was a question if she would even play in the World Cup, as she heavily protested the previous French coach Diacre. The only other player with more caps and goals than Renard is forward Eugenie Le Sommer, who will manage the offensive line, including Kadidiatou Diani, Viviane Asseyi, and Grace Geyoro.

2019 WWC performance: 

France dominated group play in an impressive fashion, and plowed through a not-so-easy  round of sixteen game against Brazil before being eliminated by the eventual champions, USA. They were unfortunate to come up against the USA as early in the knockout round as they did; many people believed it would come down to USA v FRA in the finals. As it was, the game against the USA was a very close match, and through the whole tournament, they showed they were one of the more dominant teams in the tournament.  Wendie Renard, a defender, led the French team in goals and led the defense, but also scored an own goal that almost sank the French team.

Brazil

FIFA Ranking: 9

Reputation: 

I will stand in front of the world and defend women's soccer as less theatrical than men's. However, Brazil makes that hard. They are dirty and aggressive players, but they go down like a toothpick at the gentlest touch.  That's not to say they are not supremely talented, as many of them are, and they are one of the few countries where their  women's team is as fearfully imposing as their men's. The ladies of Brazil can dance around their opponents, but also can shoot balls so hard they break wrists. They are known as a team that is consistently difficult to beat, and have successfully integrated talented young players with their more veteran standouts to maintain their high level of play.

Players:

 There is one player on Earth who has won the FIFA world player of the year five times, and it's not Lionel Messi. Keep an eye on Marta, a fantastic all around player in her fifth World Cup, who I would like more if she flopped less. If anyone can fill her shoes post-retirement, it is Debinha, a crafty midfielder with a killer shot. The aforementioned youngsters of the team, Bruninha (20), Geyse (24), and Kerolin (23), might start, but can also provide a spark off the bench after the veteran players have worn down opponents.

2019 WWC performance:

Not bad! They played strongly, and although there was a lot of individual brilliance and skill, they couldn't come together as a team in the most important moments. They made it through to the knockout round, but didn't progress past the first round, falling to host France.

Jamaica

FIFA Ranking: 43

Reputation:

After their first World Cup in 2019, Jamaica confidently qualified for their second by beating Haiti, Mexico, and Costa Rica to finish third behind the USA and Canada in the qualifying tournament. They have really been building on their 2019 experience, and have climbed ten points in the FIFA rankings since then. Many key players that were in college in the 2019 World Cup have graduated and joined professional teams in the USA, England, and France, gaining even more experience in top-level soccer. 

Player Pool:

This team is made up of super talented college students, with one or two 30 year olds thrown in for good measure. Their qualifying run was made possible by their goalie, 19 year old Sydney Schneider, and scoring machine Khadija (Bunny) Shaw. Joining the team for this World Cup is Drew Spence, a midfielder who had made senior appearances for England, then took a period of mandatory leave from the international game so she could join the Jamaican side. 

2019 WWC performance:

For their first World Cup, not a ton was expected of them. They gave it their all and got valuable experience to build on moving forward. They pretty much got run over in the group stage, ending with a three game goal differential of -11. Still, it gives the nation something to build on and be proud of.  

Panama

FIFA Ranking: 52

Reputation: 

This is the first World Cup for Las Canaleras (The Canal Girls), who finally qualified after narrowly losing a spot in the 2019 World Cup to Jamaica, their rival in this group. Panama hasn’t played many games against world-up level teams since the 2022 qualifications, but played Colombia in June just before the cup, earning one loss and one tie . With a very young team, it will be difficult for them to get out of the group stage. Teams like Panama are the exact reason why the World Cup expanded to 32 teams–so that more lower-ranked squads can get experience and make the game more competitive on the whole.

Player Pool:

Goalkeeper Yenith Bailey splashed onto the scene, winning Golden Glove for the best goalkeeper at the 2018 Concacaf tournament, only one year after she switched from a midfielder to goalkeeper. It has been six years since then, and other goalkeepers have joined the squad, but Bailey has the most experience. For goalscoring, Las Canaleras will look to midfielder Marta Cox, and Riley Tanner, a young offensive player that is the only woman playing professionally in the USA.

2019 WWC performance:

Did Not Qualify

[wherespaulo]

Trail Racing in New Zealand with Race2Adventure

Feb 18-26, 2023

I’ve always been on the lookout for companies which organize international adventure tours based around running – yet I’ve always been surprised to find that these companies are few and far between. So I was happy to discover Race2Adventure back in 2013 when I ran in Panama with them. Since then I’ve also been on running tours with them in Peru (2015) and Chile (2017) as well as well as a non-running trip to the world cup in Brazil (2014). For Merritt Hopper, the owner of the company, New Zealand had always been on the radar and would be a special one, but it had been delayed a few years due to New Zealand’s strict policies during the covid pandemic.

I’d just spent a couple of weeks in Australia followed by a week’s hiking on trails around Queenstown so was already well acclimated to the time zone and weather by the time I met up with a couple of the runners in an Irish bar, Pog Mahones, over a couple of Guinness’s. I immediately hit it off with Pete, Merritt’s uncle from upstate New York, and Chris, a talkative, mean looking ex-marine from Idaho.

The kick-off meeting in the Queenstown Community Centre was a chance to catch up with many old faces from both organizing staff and runners as well as meeting many new ones, such as Nathan Fa’avae, a world renown New Zealand adventure racer who was helping out with some of the race courses. There were too many to mention and I always cherish being able to catch up with friends around the world whom I’ve not seen for years – to just carry on where we last left off. And Race2Adventure is a great way to do this. There would be about 100 runners covering a range of abilities and I had no idea where I fitted into this – so there was some trepidation on the eve of the first race as we sized up the competition.

RACES

Race 1 – Arrowtown to Kawarau Bridge (6.1 miles)

It was good to be back in the quaint old gold mining community of Allentown for the start of the first race. A two mile brisk walk along the Arrow River to the starting line and then we were off! A 6.1 mile route alongside the Arrow River to the Kawarau Gorge Suspension Bridge. I was pleasantly surprised by my respectable fifth place finish, half expecting to be overtaken by a few other runners at some point – I did suspect more stiff competition was to come over the next few runs though, especially as they would be shorter, faster runs!

And much respect to those fearless runners with nerves of steel who finished off with a bungy jump over the river from the 43m high Kawarau Bridge, considered to be the ‘home of bungy’ – although the very first bungee jumps were actually from the Clifton Suspension Bridge in England in 1979 by crazy members of the Oxford University Dangerous Sports Club. And special kudos to those who even went a step further (ha ha) by doing the 134m Nevis Jump. I opted for the much more cowardly option of zip lining, superman style. I’d surmised that my legs would refuse to comply with the request to step off the bungee platform into thin air.

Race 2 – Lake Pukaki (4.3 miles)

The NZ sun is deceptive. It might only be 70F, but the sun has an increased intensity due to the hole in the ozone layer. And didn’t I know it! After that first race I’d clearly been lulled into a false sense of security as a number of other runners, less affected by the sun’s intensity and clearly faster over the shorter distances, hit their stride. There was big Brian, a big yoga bloke in a big hat, which I would forever see bobbing up and down ahead of me. This was a tough run for me but I did manage to increase my standing towards the end as a few runners surprisingly wilted even more than me. A plunge into the icy cold lake was a must after such a hot run, with the ladies taking the lead on the NZ tradition of skinny dipping.

Race 3 – Lake Tekapo (3.1 miles)

During this trip I would forever be reminded of my previous visit to New Zealand’s south island over the new year of 2014/15 – like a series of deja vu’s. Such as at the start of this race next to the Church of the Good Shepherd by the lake – I knew I’d seen the church before but couldn’t quite place it. It seemed strange, as though it was in a previous life. I suppose in some way it was. Places can seem different when  visited at different stages of your life, when more water has passed under your proverbial bridge. You’re not the same person so naturally have a different perspective.

A pleasant run through the lakeside pine forest where Brittany was forever encouraging me to keep up with her – yeah good luck with that! Runners are like that though, always supportive of each other. I sometimes wish we were all more like that in other aspects of life too -- to outspokenly  encourage each other just like runners do.

Race 4 – Castle Hill Loop (4.2 miles)

Great to have steadily falling cool rain for a change as we set off from the Castle Hill Community Hall, but I found the initial 600ft steep uphill section, which zig-zagged through the mountain beech woods, really tough. However, once I came out of the woods onto the high, flat open section over grassland, I did get my second wind, gaining ground on some of the runners who’d overtaken me on the uphill section.

As I was flying back through the woods on the steep downhill section I was surprised to suddenly hear footsteps right behind that were keeping up with me! I pulled to one side to let them pass only to realize it was Luciana filming me – how the heck was she keeping up with me at speed down this tricky section while filming at the same time?

Race 5 – Lake Wanaka (3.3 miles)

This was a short lakeside sprint along the edge of a forest, at flat out speed until you ran out of steam – no chance of waiting to get a second wind here so I didn’t really expect to excel. And I didn’t!

Overall position

Well done to everyone for giving their all, and special congratulations to Corinne, a fellow New Yorker, who won every race by a mile! I finished in a respectable 11th position overall for the week and vowed to ensure I do a bit of speed training for the shorter distances next time so I could keep up with big hat yoga bloke Brian and mean looking Chris.

OTHER STUFF

There was plenty of time to relax in-between races where we were ferried around in two coaches -- I opted for the beer bus replete with alcohol infused rap music and our hilarious driver, Stu, who would have us all in stiches by regaling dubious stories over the microphone, in a ‘tongue-in-cheek’ dead pan voice, related to the local geography we happened to be passing through.

There were the glow worm Caves in Te Anau, wine tasting at the Kinross winery (accompanied by prolonged banter with Lindsay on the correct pronunciation of ‘Gewurztraminer’);

boat trip around Milford Sound;

hike to the Franz Joseph glacier (couldn’t believe how far it had receded since my previous visit eight years ago);

star gazing from the hot spring-fed pools near Lake Tekapo, watching movies from comfy sofa’s in the tiny Paradiso Cinema in Wanaka and exploring Christchurch -- all interspersed with plenty of convivial rehydration at various watering holes and restaurants.

After this action packed week I looked forward to the next Race2Adventure where I could once again catch up with both old and new like-minded friends. I also looked forward to visiting this extraordinarily beautiful country once again when I might even finally get a good look at the kea bird which had now continued to evade me over three separate trips to New Zealand. Maybe it’s just the universe’s way of providing just one more reason of many to lure me back to this magnificent country.