#disputation of Barcelona

[todaysjewishholiday]

12 Menachem Av 5784 (15-16 August 2024)

Throughout the Middle Ages, one of the recurring strategies of the Catholic Church to place pressure on Jews to convert were formal debates between champions of Christianity and Jewish communal leaders. These debates were not voluntary for their Jewish participants, and the goal was not a fair and effective discussion of differing views. Catholic leaders were convinced that theirs was the one true faith and that Judaism by contrast was fundamentally false and misguided, and since they were generally the debate judges, there was little chance of a fair hearing for the Jewish participants. The goal of the disputations was the humiliation of Jewish religious leaders, and they were often accompanied by burnings of the Talmud and other Jewish holy texts. And when, as often happened, Jews argued well enough to instead embarrass their overconfident Christian opponents, that too was dangerous. Christian leaders did not take embarrassment well.

The 12th of Av 5023 was the beginning of one such debate, known as the Disputation of Barcelona. Paulo Christiani, a Jewish convert to Christianity, insisted that he could prove the truth of Catholicism from the Talmud and Tanakh, much to the excitement of Christian leaders. They clamored for the king to force the Jews to debate Christiani so that he could demonstrate the superiority of the Catholic religion. Nachmanides, already in his 70s and well known throughout the Sephardi community, was given orders to appear at the royal court to act as the defender of Judaism. Knowing that the disputations were often made unequal by well founded Jewish fears of punishment for speaking negatively of Christianity and limits imposed in debate rules on Jewish participants, Nachmanides agreed to participate on the condition that the king clearly state in advance that both participants would have full freedom of speech and would not be punished for any of their statements during the debate. The king, seeing the fairness of this request, granted the condition.

Nachmanides and Christiani debated over the course of four days in front of the king and his court. While Christiani’s arguments might have been accepted by a Christian audience without familiarity with rabbinical writings, Nachmanides was easily able to demonstrate their logical inconsistencies.

At the end of the disputation, the king announced Christianity to be the winner, but awarded Nachmanides 300 gold coins for his arguments, calling it the best defense of a bad cause he had ever heard. Going even further, the king attended synagogue services on the Shabbat following the dispute and addressed his Jewish subjects directly.

The Dominican Order, of which Christiani was a member, crowed eagerly about their victory in the debate. Nachmanides, in response, published a transcript to allow the public to consider the matter for themselves. The Dominicans were outraged. They pressured the king to punish Nachmanides, insisting that while he had been permitted by royal decree to speak freely before the court, that freedom did not extend to publication. Nachmanides was exiled from his homeland. Success in defending Judaism was punished harshly. Nachmanides was never able to return home. Centuries later, the same antisemitic views that had motivated the forced disputation and his exile were being behind the expulsion of all Jews from the newly united realms of Aragon and Castile.

Today is also Erev Shabbat. Shabbat HaMalka will descend to comfort us. Her peace is a great consolation in a world full of strife and hardship.

[the-clay-quarters]

(tags from @neathyingenue @zeebreezin)

hang on have I not mentioned this enough- Hi! Yes! Vincent is Catalan, from Barcelona! I usually talk about them as being/using Spanish but that's honestly just because I know that's what most people would recognise/understand, compared to how relatively niche Catalan is unfortunately. A lot of the time it's more important in the moment to connect somewhat even if it's not entirely accurate "^^ (and they do use Spanish, it's just their second language instead).

Being Catalan specifically is a key part of Vin as a character because, well... I'm projecting, honestly! I live in Barcelona! I may be British, but I've lived here for most of my life now and it's an equally important part of me as a person. Writing about Vin is an excuse to write about the experience of immigrating (though admittedly in reverse of my own) as well as Catalan language, culture, politics, history...

One day I'll sit down and write out some of this stuff and approximately nobody will know the cultural/historical context <3

[thejewitches]

This post has been in the works for the better part of three years. The language around observance, religiosity, and identity is more important than ever. What it means to be a Jew is more important than ever.

Whether or not Jews are ‘religious’ in a world of non-Jewish religion has always been political: from the public debates Jews were forced into throughout Europe (like the Paris and Barcelona Disputations) to modern alt-right Republicans weaponizing their designation of only right-wing Jews as ‘religious’ enough to be taken seriously, this has always been more than a personal label.

This doesn’t mean you have to change your personal label, but rather it asks that you consider more than how you personally identify when you engage in public discourse. How we understand the unique, multi-faceted aspects of Jewish life is vital: disentangling it from the Christian hegemony that we are both crushed beneath and uphold is important work.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Ending mass human deprivation and providing good lives for the whole world's population can be accomplished while at the same time achieving ecological objectives. This is demonstrated by a new study by the Institute of Environmental Science and Technology of the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona (ICTA-UAB) and the London School of Economics and Political Science, recently published in World Development Perspectives. About 80% of humanity cannot access necessary goods and services and lives below the threshold for "decent living." Some narratives claim that addressing this problem will require massive economic growth on a global scale, multiplying existing output many times over, which would exacerbate climate change and ecological breakdown. The authors of the new study dispute this claim and argue that human development does not require such a dangerous approach. Reviewing recent empirical research, they find that ending mass deprivation and provisioning decent living standards for 8.5 billion people would require only 30% of current global resource and energy use, leaving a substantial surplus for additional consumption, public luxury, scientific advancement, and other social investments. This would ensure that everyone in the world has access to nutritious food, modern housing, high-quality health care, education, electricity, induction stoves, sanitation systems, clothing, washing machines, refrigerators, heating/cooling systems, computers, mobile phones, internet, and transport, and could also include universal access to recreational facilities, theaters, and other public goods. The authors argue that, to achieve such a future, strategies for development should not pursue capitalist growth and increased aggregate production as such but should rather increase the specific forms of production that are necessary to improve capabilities and meet human needs at a high standard, while ensuring universal access to key goods and services through public provisioning and decommodification. In the Global South, this requires using industrial policy to increase economic sovereignty, develop industrial capacity, and organize production around human well-being. At the same time, in high-income countries, less-necessary production (of things like mansions, SUVs, private jets and fast fashion) must be scaled down to enable faster decarbonization and to help bring resource use back within planetary boundaries, as degrowth scholarship holds.

July 25 2024

[wileys-russo]

taught a lesson II a.putellas x sister!reader

taught a lesson II a.putellas x sister!reader

"alexia!" you yelled loudly with a scowl, stomping out of your room to find your sister sprawled out on the lounge, her girlfriend laid in between her legs as both older girls gave you a curious look.

"why is there a lock on my window?" you moved to block their view of the tv and crossed your arms, glaring daggers at your older sister whose face remained blank.

"why don't you tell me why you would need a lock on your window hermana?" the blonde hit back raising an eyebrow as you scoffed. "because you think you're a prison warden!" you snapped, the warning glare sent your way doing nothing to deter your anger or where it was directed.

you'd moved in with alexia when after years of academy training and playing on the junior team you were finally offered a contract on barcelona's senior team.

you'd all been over the moon and you weren't sure if you could ever do anything to make alexia prouder than she had been once you'd picked up the phone and called her first.

quickly accepting the contract, the club had offered to set you up with your own apartment, car and a nutritionist to visit weekly to help you settle in and form a healthy routine around balancing this new adjustment to your life.

however both your older sisters and your mami declined this on your behalf, all sharing the opinion that at eighteen you weren't responsible enough to live by yourself even with assistance, and your protests fell on deaf ears as you were instead moved into your eldest sisters spare room.

to her credit she'd done everything she could to make it feel like it was as much your place as hers and olga's, allowing you full creative control over everything about your room and even offering to move about or change some things in common areas in an attempt to help you not feel like just a guest.

though not dissimilarly to both your older sisters you had a temper, especially at eighteen it hardly took much to have steam pouring from your ears and as much as it amused alexia to wind you up she knew where the line lay between teasing and taking things too far.

that did not however stop the two of you from being at one anothers throats more often than not. alexia had always and would forever be fiercely overprotective when it came to her younger sisters, and about as close to a helicopter sibling as one could be.

it was rare things got physical now alexia was thirty and knew better, never afraid to smack or shove you when she was younger and you'd be on her case about something refusing to leave her be until you got your way. now for the most part she left the wrestling and the rolling around to you and alba, rarely involving herself.

as much as she was also protective over alba, with nearly twelve years between the two of you it meant she'd adopted more of a maternal role. this only seemed to worsen once you moved in with her and she had much easier access to every little aspect of your life, trying to control as much of it as she possibly could in order to keep you safe, happy and healthy, at least in her eyes she was doing what she thought was best for you.

but this lack of autonomy, privacy and independence didn't fare well with you, and caused the two of you to clash heads frequently. olga more often than not acted as the mediator between your disputes, much more reasonable and in touch with her emotional intelligence than your sister was.

but when you'd stupidly left your laptop open on the kitchen bench having stepped out of the room to shower, alexia had snooped and found your iMessage threads with friends, head boiling as she read through weeks worth of successful executed plans to sneak out and get up to god knows what with them at all hours of the night.

so to prevent this from happening again she'd had the lock installed when you were out with your mami for lunch the next day, olga warning her against it and trying to remind her of when alexia herself was eighteen, prompting that you needed the room and space to make your own mistakes and learn from them.

warnings which of course, fell on deaf and very stubborn ears.

"stop sneaking out then and i would not have to put things in place to keep you in." alexia spoke coldly, olga squeezing her hand trying to catch her eye and encourage her to take a different approach which went ignored.

"how did you even know about-" you scoffed in disbelief, shaking your head firmly and storming back to your room. "i know everything pequeña, including what is best for you!" alexia yelled after you, having never been able to let you do anything without poking her nose in or getting involved.

"stay out of my life!" you yelled back, bedroom door slamming with such force that a picture in the hallway could be heard falling off its hook and to the floor with a thump.

a string of angry catalan leaving her mouth alexia gently moved her girlfriend off and stood, ignoring her warnings to leave you be to cool off as her footsteps raced toward your room.

olga sighed as your door could be heard being flung open and the two of you started to argue, voices raising higher each minute as both you and alexia refused to relent or budge an inch, not able to see at all where the other one was coming from.

"you looked through my personal fucking messages?" you yelled as alexia finally got angry enough to let it slip what had prompted the lock in the first place. "no! you were stupid enough to leave your laptop open." alexia defended herself as you scoffed.

"so you thought you'd read them instead of just...being a normal human being and going about your day. you're crazy alexia!" you hauled a pillow at her which she caught with ease only further fueling your rage.

"you are my responsibility pequeña. you live with me! i know what is best for you and i did what i needed to do to keep you safe. you are eighteen what if someone had taken advantage of you walking around in the middle of the night huh? mierda!" alexia spat throwing her hands up in the air.

"i wasn't walking around in the middle of the night puta i was picked up and driven to my best friends house. my best friend who i never get to see anymore because if barça's training schedule isn't enough you are always on my back about doing more." you paused to take a breath, feeling a little light headed for a moment.

"extra laps, extra weights, extra media study, extra shooting practice, extra drills, if you had your way i would never leave the pitch alexia. i need a life outside of football too, please!" your anger quickly melted away as honesty leaked through, your voice straining and eyes pleading for her to see it from your point of view.

"just because you don't have a life, doesn't mean you get to ruin mine." you spoke quietly, sitting down on the edge of your bed and rubbing your face tiredly with your hands, your sister missing all the signs that now would be a great time to wrap this up.

"football is your life, and if you don't see that then you don't belong at barça." your sisters words hurt more than you let on, face falling just for a moment before it hardened, olga now appearing realizing she should have stepped in sooner.

"get dressed, now. we have training!" alexia warned sternly, again ignoring the way her girlfriends eyes burned into the side of her head and she tugged on her shirt in warning.

"i'm not going." you spoke, eyes trained to the floor as alexia scoffed and stepped further into the room. "perdón?" she spoke, eyes drilling into you and cold tone warding you off of arguing, intimidation often her best tool of communication these days when she didn't know what else to do with you.

"mami is picking me up soon and taking me to the doctors, i have an appointment. jona already knows!" you rolled your eyes, still refusing to meet hers which bore down on you as you stood to your feet.

"why did you not tell me? what is the appointment for? i could have taken you." your sister rushed out, eyebrows furrowing as you snickered. "because my body is none of your business alexia, and you're my sister, not mami!" you grunted, pushing at her chest so she stumbled out of the room, the door quickly closing in her face.

scoffing at the gesture alexia's hand reached for the handle to push it open again, never allowing you the luxury of a lock bar the one now on your window, but fingers caught her wrist and tugged it away, olga staring up at her with a firm look and a raised eyebrow.

"sí, vale." alexia sighed, moving away from the door as her girlfriend followed after her to their own bedroom to continue the conversation.

~

"go, go go!" mapi chanted, raising from the lounge and clutching onto alexia who was sporting the same wide eyed stare as they watched the barcelona mens team play.

"bah! where was he offside huh? joder!" mapi threw her hands up with a roll of her eyes as the whistle blew and both girls dropped down into their seats with annoyed frowns.

alexia's head turned when she heard your key in the door, sure enough a few seconds later you were walking through, only alba was following you which caused her eyebrows to furrow.

"pequeña! we missed you at training." mapi greeted you with a cheer, opening her arms expectantly for a hug as you breezed right past and made a beeline for your bedroom. "what was that about?" the defender asked confused as alba joined the pair on the lounge.

"ask ale." the younger putellas chuckled with a shake of her head. "i thought mami was taking her to the doctor?" alexia ignored the previous remark and directed the question at her sister who shrugged.

"no? mami's been at work all day, i just picked her up and took her to get food." alba shrugged as alexia frowned. "from where? the doctor?" alexia sat up more as alba shook her head and her phone rang.

"no from the bus stop not too far from here. conned me into paying for her food of course, diablillo." alba rolled her eyes as mapi chuckled, the phone ringing again. "so mami didn't take her to the doctor then?" alexia clarified as alba gave her a look.

"no, why are you being so pushy?" the younger putellas questioned as alexia ignored her, the phone ringing again. "mierda! alba would you get that?" alexia snapped as it rang for the fourth time, her patience breaking.

"vale relax its not mine! its hers, took it cause she wouldn't stop taking ugly photos of me eating." alba scoffed, pushing her hips up and grabbing it out of her back pocket.

"that is hilarious." mapi chuckled as alba shoved her and clicked accept. "she's busy call back later!" your sister spoke the phone without looking, but her face clearly changed when whoever was on the other line spoke up.

"no lo siento i understand. i will have her call back soon as she can, gracias." alba spoke much more politely as the older girls beside her gave her a funny look. "amor." before alexia could question her on anything olga appeared, nodding for her to follow.

"two seconds cariño." alexia waved her off and turned back to alba as olga cleared her throat. "alexia, now." at the more serious tone the blonde was quick to her feet, ignoring her sister and best friends teasing jests after her.

"before we speak, you need to promise me you will stay calm amor." olga closed the bedroom door as alexia took a seat on the bed with a confused nod of agreement, stomach churning at the anxiety of what could be going on.

"you need to talk to your sister." olga sighed without giving much more context. "about this morning? cari i know she was upset but-" olga shook her head and cut her off.

"no, you need to talk to your sister." olga repeated as alexia's frown deepened. "i do not understand." the midfielder shook her head as olga stepped into their ensuite for a moment.

"what?" alexia questioned seeing her girlfriend had something hidden behind her back. the younger woman hesitated for a moment before slowly moving her hand, holding up something which made alexia's eyes widen.

"calm alexia, you promised me calm." olga warned as the blonde snatched it out of her hand, staring at the positive pregnancy test in disbelief. "why would i be upset? amor i did not even know you were speaking to doctors or-" as her girlfriends large hand settled on her stomach olga's eyes rolled.

"its not mine! idiota." olga smacked her on the head with a huff as alexia frowned. "then who would it-" suddenly everything clicked into place and the spanish captains blood ran cold.

"i found it in the bathroom."

"ale." olga warned seeing the instant switch in her facial features. "amor think about this and how to-" but her words fell on deaf ears as the bedroom door opened and alexia stalked back to the living room.

"maría, vaya." alexia ordered nodding to the door as the defender looked confused. "ale the game still has-" she gestured to the tv but was promptly shut down with a stern glare.

"vale, vale! i know where i am not wanted." mapi held her hands up in surrender and stood, grabbing her keys and quickly leaving the apartment to head to her own.

"we need to talk." both alba and alexia spoke in sync, frowning at one another. "you first." again they spoke at the same time rolling their eyes now, though as alexia held up the pregnancy test alba's jaw dropped.

"felicidades hermana!" the girl leapt up and tried to hug her sister who pushed her off. "it is not mine, and not olga's." at those words alba's eyes widened even further in shock.

"the call on her phone. it was a nurse with her test results, wouldn't say anything else but that she has to call back as soon as possible." alba explained, the two having a conversation entirely with their eyes before nodding and turning to head to your room.

"mi amor, go easy. if you push and yell she will just close off!" olga warned, hovering by the bedroom door respecting this was more a family matter as alba sent her a small smile, though she winced as alexia basically kicked your door open.

"hey! what i have to knock when i enter your room but you can't do that for mine?" you glared up at your sisters from your bed, spotting your phone in alba's hand. "oh i was looking for that." you sat up and held your hand out expectantly.

"alba!" you huffed when your sister didn't hand it to you, shifting a little uncomfortably as they both glared you down wordlessly. "what?" you questioned with a frown.

"what test did you have today?" alexia spoke first, voice seemingly calm as you rolled your eyes. "i told you, my body is none of your business." you repeated from earlier.

"well i know mami didn't take you, so you tell us or you can tell her." alexia threatened as you paused, looking them both over and finding no weakness you could pick at or exploit.

"i am eighteen i am an adult, i don't have to tell you or mami anything." you held firm as alba scoffed, tossing your phone onto the bed beside you. "and is that what you think you are, sí? an adult?" alexia taunted as you glared up at her.

"good, good. because you will need to be to look after a baby!" alexia yelled suddenly causing you to flinch, pulling the positive pregnancy test out of her pocket and holding it up.

"thats not mine." you spoke quickly, trying to keep your face as still and as calm as possible. "oh no? well pequeña it is not mine, not olga's, is it alba's?" alexia's voice dripped with sarcasm making your eyes roll.

"you have friends over all the time." you scoffed, crossing your arms and shrugging. "sí, friends who do not sleep with men! idiota." alexia threw the pregnancy test as you as you ducked and it went sailing behind your bed.

"the doctor called, said they have your test results hermanita. time to stop lying!" alba warned sternly, moving to stand beside your eldest sister as both of them stared you down.

"okay, it is mine." you spoke with a shrug. "we said stop lying! we-" alexia started to lecture but stopped as alba tapped her shoulder and she registered your words.

"it is yours?" "sí."

"dios mío, we're going to be tia's! we can't be tia's first, you're supposed to have a baby first." alba moaned in shock, smacking alexia and siting down at your desk in shock.

"you are too young to be having sex joder! who is the father? you're a baby you can't have a baby!" alexia roared, vein in her forehead near to exploding as alba grabbed the back of her shirt stopping her from lunging at you like she wanted.

"alba, call mami. olga!" at her call the brunette appeared in the doorway, alexia asking her to go to the chemist and get a few more tests. but all three of them stopped their fussing and planning at the sound of your laughter.

"you think this is funny?" alexia's eye twitched as she took a step closer and you nodded, ignoring both alba and olga frantically gesturing for you to stop behind her, both girls recognising the eldest putellas was about one second from exploding.

"sí, very funny." you grinned tauntingly, alexia's mouth opening and closing like a fish as the tips of her ears turned red and you laughed again.

"i'm not pregnant, idiotas" you smiled, leaning back on your hands as all three girls frowned. "but you said-" alba gestured to the test on the floor and your stomach. "it is my test, but i'm not pregnant." you replied with a shrug.

"pequeña. you have five seconds to explain before i rip your arms from your body." alexia growled, fists clenched by her side as you chuckled. "i bought it online, its a fake test that always show positive." you explained as alba's jaw dropped.

"i bought it to scare you. so now i hope you learned your lesson about snooping around in my life, alexia." you spat with a roll of your eyes, alba quick to grab her sisters wrist as she stepped toward you again.

"what about the test? the doctor called." alba pushed with a frown. "mami found a weird spot on my back last week, made me an appointment to go get it tested to make it sure wasn't cancer or anything bad. call her! she will tell you." you replied honestly, pulling down the collar of your shirt and twisting to show the marks.

"you are not pregnant?" you fixed your shirt and shook your head with an infuriatingly smug smile that had your sisters seething. "prove it."

with a shrug you bent down and grabbed a pregnancy test from your side table, assuming this would have been the outcome. "muévete por favor." you shooed your sisters out of the way as olga stepped aside and you went to the bathroom.

olga again recognizing this for now was a family matter stepped out of the room as your sisters took a seat on the edge of the bed, both were silent still trying to process everything.

"see? negative." you returned around five minutes later, handing the test to alba as both her and alexia studied it with a frown. "i peed on that you know." you reminded as your sisters face scrunched in disgust and she promptly dropped it on alexia's lap.

"alba!" the older of the two smacked it away, both starting to bicker as they wiped their hands on one another making you chuckle, the noise alerting them back to the issue at hand.

"i hope this taught you both a valuable lesson about snooping." you rolled your eyes, hands on hips and staring them down in a stance scarily similar to eli's.

"you are not pregnant?" "no." "promise? on papi?" "yes, not pregnant."

"good, dios mio." alba exhaled shakily, catching alexia's eye as they seemed to again wordlessly have a conversation, your suspicions peaking as they stood and fixed their eyes back on you.

"you go left, i'll go right, she can't outrun us both. vamos!" your eyes widened and you nearly fell to the floor in your haste to get away, both your sisters launching at you.

"olga!"

[wearebarca]

1. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character

Part 1 part 2 part 3

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 3,5K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Hello, Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

Her fingers were hovering over the multitudes of cameras lined up in the bookcase of her small living room. The balcony doors were opened and the cool night air filtered in the little apartment, along with the chants and cheers of the sea of supporters passing in the streets below. Nights like these had quickly become her favourite since moving to the heart of Barcelona. She would usually sit on the balcony and watch as the supporters would celebrate their club's win, filling the night air with happiness and excitement but tonight was slightly different though. An important match was currently being disputed at the Johan Cruyff Estadi, one that all the Barcelona Femini fans were looking forward to all year. El Classico was always an electric night and Rosalie had decided to experience this night out in the streets, instead of the comfort of her balcony chair.

Once out in the streets, She was immediately hit by a wave of excitement. She was instantly  swept in a sea of chanting people, all wearing jerseys and scarves with their team's logo. The crowd was so dense that all you could see were flashes of red and blue making the task of focusing on one subject a difficult one. She finally managed to exit the crowd and find a bench near a bus stop, high enough to have a clear view of the scene unfolding in front of her. This new vantage point allowed you to take numerous portraits of fans, capturing groups of friends in the middle of drunken laughs and barça chants. She instantly knew when the final whistle was blown and Barcelona had won the match. Excited screams could be heard all around and the ground was slightly shaking from the people jumping around in an ecstatic frenzy. Rosalie lowered her camera and took a moment to soak it all in. These were the moments that reminded her of why she had chosen sports photography as her career. This feeling of unity between fans, the shared excitement and hope as well as the solidarity displayed among the supporters even during darker times. Sports was something that brought people together, made them temporarily forget about their lives. She considered herself lucky to have a job that allowed her to capture such moments. 

Once back in the safety of her apartment, she plugged her camera to her computer and while the shots she took were transferring into her laptop. She pulled out the wine bottle that was already opened and sat on her couch. Next to her was a pile of clothes that consisted of her vintage oversized brown leather jacket, a tight black t-shirt and dark brown pleated pants. She had specifically picked out this outfit for her first day in her new job. Her camera bag sat next to the pile, only her laptop missing. Everything was ready, perfectly organized, almost obsessively. The stress of this new beginning was keeping her up which led the young woman to work on the shots she had taken during the night until she fell asleep in her living room. 

The drive to the training stadium wasn’t too long. She had left incredibly early to avoid traffic and ended up parking her car at the stadium and walking around the block. It wasn’t long until she stumbled upon a small cafe, not too far from the training center. The place looked cosy and inviting with all the plants and the picture frames. Upon a closer look, she noticed that they were all pictures of what she guest was regulars enjoying their coffees. The thought of so much history hanging on these walls made the French-Canadian smile as she went to stand in line to order. 

 Her Spanish was rather shaky which made the barista and the woman behind her chuckle lightly. But nonetheless she managed to order and pay without going completely red from embarrassment.  

“Americano para Rosalie” The french name sounds so foreign when spoken in the language and Rosalie almost felt bad for the barista and made a note to herself to use her spanish nickname when ordering in the future. 

 She picked up her coffee and as she was turning around to exit the small shop, her body collided with a solid one, making her spill half of her own coffee on herself. 

“oh Déu, ho sento, estàs bé?”

A tattooed had grabbed her elbow in an attempt to stabilize her, but the damage was done. The cup that was previously secured in her hand had spilled more than half of its content on her shirt and bag.  the tattooed woman turn to her partner “ Ingrid can you grab napkins please” 

She immediately took the napkins that were handed to her and started to dab at her bag in an attempt to prevent the liquid from seeping in and mess with her equipment. Busy trying to dry the coffee that had fallen on her work bag, Rosalie had failed to notice who exactly had bumped into her, but the names mentioned during her short encounter were oddly familiar. “ Are you ok? Did any get in your bag?” A tall dark haired woman was standing right in front of you with a worried smile and Rosalie could not believe her luck. She simply shook her head and smiled at the Norwegian while throwing the napkins away. 

“ I’m Ingrid, we’re very sorry about this, Maria’s a little clumsy.” She laughed at her own statement, knowing very well that “ a little” was a bit of an understatement. 

“ It’s ok, I can’t say that I was really looking where I was going” Rosalie said as she followed Ingrid outside the cafe to a small table near the entrance.  The Spanish woman exited the shop shortly after them with a tray with four cups of coffee. 

“ Asked the barista for your order, here you go.” The Spanish woman said with an apologetic smile on her lips. 

“ Thank you, you didn’t have to do that”

“ It was only fair since this one can’t be bothered to be aware of the world around her” she said, giving a playful glare to her partner. 

“ I’m Mapi, .” . 

“Oh I know who you are,” she said with a smile on her face. She wasn’t new to the football world, having played all the way to her college years. After graduation, she had gotten herself a job as an assistant photographer in  the  NWSL in America. She had travelled all around the United-States and became one of the best known sports photographers. Three years into the job, Rosalie received a call that would change her career forever.

Arsenal W.F.C was desperately looking to revamp its image and put the club on the map. Management had come across some of Rosalie’s dynamic shots and had contacted her to offer her a spot in the new media team that would follow the girls around during the season. Seeing this as the opportunity of a lifetime, she moved across the ocean. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and she absolutely loved it. She had built her strongest friendships over there, had fallen even more in love with job and football, but also experienced her most gut wrenching heartbreak. After her breakup, she had stayed with the team to finish her contract and then packed her flat without knowing what she would do next. She knew that going back toArsenal would not be a good idea since she would have to see the face of the woman that had broken her trust everyday, so she gave her notice and left a month to go hiking in Andalucia. It would be during this trip that she would get the call from FC Barcelona Femini. She would accept on the spot and after a quick apartment search she would have all her belongings shipped to her new address and fly straight to Barcelona, without anyone knowing about her new beginning. 

“ Sorry that came out a little strong,  I’m Rosalie Marineau, Barça’s new photographer.” She shook both their hands and started the few blocks walk towards the training facility.

“ Oh it is a pleasure to meet you, we were wondering when the new photographer would start. We were all excited after seeing some of your work with Arsenal, very impressive.” 

“Thank you so much but I should be the one who’s excited, it truly is an honour to work with such a strong and dedicated team Like Barça, I really can’t wait to start.” the woman said with a beaming smile. The walk back to the stadium was filled with conversation about the upcoming season, Rosalie's career and even strayed to her college football career. As the group reached the entrance of the training grounds, a voice made itself heard in the hallway. 

“ustedes chicas llegan tarde” A tall blond was leaning against the wall right next to the locker room door. She was wearing the gray half zip training shirt with matching shorts and her hair loose, fanning over her shoulders. Her arms were crossed, her boots in one hand and a stern expression was plastered on her face. In her mind, there was no way that this woman was not the captain of this team and indeed, a few moments later, Rosalie was standing face to face with Alexia Putellas. 

“ Quince minutos antes no significa tarde, Ale” The sigh that left the Catalonian’s lips was long and the look that came with the sound would make anyone shrink right on the spot. She propped herself up and with even sparing a glance in the direction of the photographer, she turned around and entered the locker room. 

“Maria, you might want to follow her, you don’t want her getting worse.” Ingrid said, pushing her girlfriend towards the same door the blond had previously disappeared in. The Spanish woman let out a sigh of her own before also disappearing into the room. “ Come with me, I’ll show you to the management's office.”

As Rosalie had predicted, her morning was all about paperwork officializing her new position as the head of the photography department. Ingrid ended up staying the whole time and even offered to show her to her new office. The office was located on the second floor of the building, which seemed a lot calmer than the lower level. Upon entering the office, Rosalie was surprised by how spacious the place was. The space was divided into two sections. The first had all the proper equipment at her disposal to hold photoshoots. Everything was brand new and of the highest quality, with some of the equipment still wrapped in their boxes. The second was closest to the windows, which gave a perfect view of the pitch, and was  half hidden behind screens to give the feeling of being in a completely different room. A desk with two large screens and a laptop launchpad, a comfortable looking chair and a small sofa occupied the space. 

A big smile was playing on Rosalie’s lips as she took in the space she would now work in. “ I hope you will feel right at home here.” Jonatan ​​Giràldez said as he came to stand beside the photographer. “ You can set up if you’d like, I’ll send someone to collect you so you can meet the team before lunch.” He said, once again extending his hand for her to shake. “ Welcome to the family, Senorita Marineau.” 

After a quick hug from Ingrid and a promise to talk more later, Rosalie pulled out her laptop and took a seat at her new desk. Looking out at the pitch she found the two women she was hoping to see. During her contract with Arsenal, she was asked to follow some of the players to the Lionesses camp to capture their journey. That’s where she had met her closest friends. When she met Keira Walsh, it was like something in the universe clicked. The rest of the England squad used to joke that the two of them were the same person but in different fonts, and they might as well have been right. The two women had the same awkward sense of humour and were able to guest what the other needed or wanted with having to express anything. 

Upon meeting the younger French-Canadian woman, Lucy Bronze had immediately felt a strong feeling of protectiveness. This feeling grew even more when one night the Canadian woman had shared with their small friend group that she wasn’t close to her family.  Maybe it was because she knew that the girl had nobody to count on, in England or even in her home country, but the woman started to treat the younger brunette like she was part of her family. She was like a big sister to Rosalie and loved the girl fiercely. The couple had become Rosalie’s family during her years in London, but the distance made it hard for them to see each other outside of camps. Still the girls kept in touch regularly and had facetime movie nights on a weekly basis. They were in fact the first ones Rosalie had told about her move, and she would be lying if one of the big reasons why she accepted so fast was because she knew her two best friends were playing for this team. 

Setting up her stuff wasn’t long. She had brought a few picture frames, mainly pictures of her, Lucy and Keira, of her, Beth, Viv, Leah and Lia, her closest Arsenal friends, that she put on her desk and plugged her camera and laptop to the screens. She still had about an hour and a half before lunch so she decided to finish editing the pictures from the night before. 

She knew someone was making their way towards her office just by the sound of football boots on the hard floors. Still, too engrossed in her work, Rosalie did not lift her head until a very familiar voice spoke. 

“You know, if you missed us this much, you could’ve called instead of stalking us all the way here.” She could recognize that strong northern accent anywhere. Leaning against her door frame, in the same training kit that Alexia was wearing, Lucy was smiling brightly at her friend. The smile on Rosalie’s face lit up the whole room and warmed up the English woman’s heart. It had been a while since she had seen her friend with a genuine smile on her face. She almost tumbled over trying to catch the smaller woman who had jumped in her arms. 

“Shouldn’t you be training?” A quick look behind her showed the pitch empty. 

“Everyone is in the gym, we figured we’d come get you to meet everyone now.” She said dragging the girl out of her office.

“Wait a minute,” she made a beeline to her office to grab the usb key containing the picture she wanted to give the media team and followed the woman out in the corridor. 

“How are you settling here? You know, we feel bad about not helping you move.” Rosalie understood perfectly well why Keira and Lucy weren’t able to come give her a hand. With the away games, training and media duty, the women were swarmed and didn’t get a minute to themselves. Still, the lack of extra pairs of arms and someone to push her meant that a lot of boxes remained untouched. 

“Don’t worry, I’m good.” She said with a small smile. By the look the older woman was giving her, Rosalie knew that her little lie didn’t go through. But Lucy chose to drop the subject knowing that pestering her friend was not the way to go in this situation. 

“I'll show you around the training center but first, everyone is in the gym so we can start there.” She said walking ahead of the brunette. “ The trainers wanted you to know that you have access to it whenever you want and if you'd like they can help you with your training.” 

“ What do you mean?” The French-Canadian was confused as she caught up with the taller woman. 

“ Well… when the news of your arrival came out, people started to ask questions. They found out who you were through management and they apparently told the girls to talk to us because we knew you.” Lucy said in an apologetic tone. She knew that even though her friend was well known in her field, she liked to keep her life private. “ We didn’t say much, don't worry, but we have some grade A stalkers in this team.” 

“ Oh mon dieu ,what did they find?” The brunette said, hiding her face behind her hands. She didn’t have anything crazy on her social media, but she did have a couple pictures from her college football career that looked a little weird along with some pictures of her races, triathlons and marathons that were surely not her best angles. 

“ Everything darling,” Lucy said laughing, “ They especially loved the beach pictures and the triathlon ones, you made quite the impression, Frenchy.” 

The girl could not be more mortified. Those pictures were not bad. In fact, she was quite proud of them, but it was the fact that the whole team had seen her in her bikini or dying during a race before actually meeting her. She simply wasn’t a fan of the fact that they knew so much already.  But then, it was only fair, she thought, since their whole lives were plastered in tabloïds and discussed in social media all the time. The difference was that the photographer had never been in their position.

Lucy chose this exact moment to open the door leading to the gym and Rosalie’s ears were instantly flooded with rapid spanish banter and that freshly cut grass smell that she loved. The room was extremely bright due to the fact that it had direct access to the pitch, which meant that a slight breeze from the outside kept the gym cool and fresh. Almost every station was occupied by players, sometimes alone, but mostly in pairs. The first one to notice their arrival was none other than Mapi, who was helping a certain captain keeping her balance on a platform. She waved excitedly which caused the blond to lose balance and almost fall to her face. The look she sent the Zaragozian would have scared anyone in their right mind. When she realized that her look didn’t get the reaction it deserved she turned her gaze to the source of her training partner’s distraction,  only to lock eyes with the photographer. 

The contact didn’t not last long since the commotion had caught everyone’s attention. They quickly formed a half circle around the girl, seemingly waiting for her to say a few words. 

“ hola,” Rosalie wasn’t a shy person but she was definitely intimidated by the women in front of her. A smile from the couple that she had met in the morning was the little push she needed to continue. “ My name is Rosalie Marineau and I am Barça’s new head photographer. I am very excited to work with all of you. " she said smiling "Don’t worry, I’ll always get your best angle.” 

Smiles filled the room and everyone stepped forward to introduce themselves. The first to reach the woman was Mariona who shook her hand and welcomed her. Next were Patri and Pina who both looked like over excited children. They both gave the girl hugs and started to ask different questions only to be pulled away by Irene and Aitana. The taller woman had a warm smile and a very calm demeanor that instantly made Rosalie feel at ease with her. The smaller woman pulled her in a hug and asked her about her  move and how she was settling in this new city.  

A voice she knew all too well interrupted the conversation and arms wrapped around the photographer from behind. As soon as she smelled the familiar perfume, the Canadian spun around and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “ Hello Frenchy''

Keira didn’t let go of the woman and gave an apologetic smile to the two Spanish players who smiled and left, understanding that this was a private reunion. “ I had to fight Lucy to go get you but the old hag still has some spunk in her.” 

The comment made Rosalie laugh and pull away without letting go completely of her friend. At this moment, Lucy arrived next to the blond and gave her a small shove. “ I heard that.”

A few other players came to introduce themselves but Keira and Lucy stayed by the brunette’s side. When the last of the girls left, the photographer turned to her friends only to see them looking over her shoulders. 

“ Hola, I don’t think we have been introduced” 

The photographer turned around swiftly only to freeze on the spot at the woman before her. Words seemed to escape her as her lips parted but no words came out. Alexia Putellas was a woman with a commanding presence and piercing eyes. She towered over the photographer by a few inches  and even with a polite smile on her face, she held herself with a confidence that would make anyone shrink beside her. A sharp elbow in her ribs shook up the girl and prompted her to finally speak.

“ Oui, Bonjour mademoiselle,”

[skipper1331]

Which sister? // Alexia Putellas

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it:)

"Are you even listening?" Mapi asked her best friend who was watching you with googly eyes.

Alexias heart fluttered at the sight in front of her, you. Her eyes roamed over your figure, mesmerizing every detail, you were stunning. For her, it didn‘t matter If you were all dressed up, in joggers or in the training gear - you were the most beautiful girl in the world. Yet she had to admit, seeing you in the Barça kit made her heart skip a beat, skin tingle.

"Huh?"

"stop drooling and listen to me" the defender told her stern, Alexias hand flying to her mouth to wip it - no drool. "Gosh Ale," Mapi laughed, "that was meant metaphorically" the girl glared at her friend, sighing in defeat. La reinas crush on you was more than obvious to everyone but you. She held the door open for you, braided your hair every time, drove you almost everywhere around, she would even carry you if you were too exhausted to walk on your own.

She got it really bad, you just smiled at her across the pitch on your first day in Barcelona and then she knew it straight away. She didn't know you yet, but she knew it, she knew that she would fall headfirst in love with you.

And she did.

Over time, Alexia and you became great friends, hung out all the time and she even introduced you to her family. Her mother and sister were two of the friendliest people you had ever met, Alba maybe more flirty but still kind though.

Her mother spoke highly of you, about your good manners, your helpful and humorous nature - she liked you. At some point your status changed: you were no longer a friend and teammate of her oldest daughter but her third daughter.

-

Thursday evening - family dinner.

After weeks of Mapi trying to convince Ale to ask you out, they agreed to the deal that the midfielder would at least tell her family. So again weeks later, Alexia finally built the courage, for the first time ever, to say out loud that she was in love with you.

The conversation was floating by while Alexia held back. She was quiet most of the time, occasionally adding a humm or some phrase. She was so lost in her thoughts, thinking about the best way to admit that she like-liked you that it just bubbled out of her.

"I‘m in love with Y/n"

Alba choked on her food, dropping the fork as she stared with an open mouth at her sister, "what?!"

Eli with a big smile on her face, looked at Alexia, she always had a feeling that you were not just a friend to her - not with the way she looked at you, the hearts that arose in her eyes at every mention of your name.

"You can‘t like her!" her sister spat angrily. There was a wrinkle between la reinas brows as they furrowed, "¿por que?"

"Because I like her!"

Alexia was taken back - when did that happen? The Putellas sisters glared at each other, Eli‘s words falling to death ears. "Well then the fight is on. Let‘s see which sister she wants" the younger girl stated as she stood up, leaning on her arms to intimidate her sister. "Fight? She’s not a trophy to fight for!" The midfielder herself now stood up, also leaning on the table. The tension was thick, holes burning in to the head of each other, "as If you haven‘t gone after every trophy" Alba replied, refering to the numerous trophies Alexia had fought for. "Alba, say one more time she‘s a trophy and I‘ll smack you!"

That was the moment Eli disputed, her fist hitting the table, shutting up both of her daughters. "You," Eli looked at Alba before she pointed to the living room "this way". The younger girl grumbled under her breath as she stomped out, the mother turning to her other child "Kitchen"

"No mamá"

Alexia was mad, she didn‘t know If she was mad because her sister liked you too or because she refered to you as a trophy or If she was scared that Alba would win this fight.

In defeat, the midfielder slumped back on her chair, head resting in her hands. She needed a minute.

Calmed down, Ale looked at her mother with the most heart broken eyes yet not saying anything. The girl walked towards the living room, her mum close behind. Alba was sitting on the couch, arms crossed as she glared at the black screen of the tv. "Alba," her sister said in a firm voice, stubbornly she didn't turn around, her gaze fixed on switched off television, Alexia continued anyway, "I won‘t fight you. If you want her, ask her" confused, Alba turned to face the Barça player, why would she give up a fight? She‘d always fight for everything. "Just- just promise me to treat her right, okay?" The only thing Alexia did fight was against her tears in that moment.

She left straight after, not giving one of them the chance to say something.

She wouldn't fight against her sister, not when it involved something so important - you. She would rather have her own heart broken than to see you sad or miss out the chance of happiness with her sister. She loved you and Alba too much for that.

The happiness of her family and you will always be her first priority - no matter what.

-

Alexia avoided you. The sparkle in her eyes was missing - you were missing. When she talked to you, she held her answers short, partner drills she did with someone else and she would even avoid to look at you - her favorite sight.

In your eyes, she was a changed woman. A few days ago, everything was perfectly fine; the two of you joked around, she gave you a lift home but now? it was as If you were strangers.

It wasn't like you to confront her straight away, maybe she just had a bad day or week and needed some distance, some space. You weren't a confrontational person anyways, situations like that just stressed you out and triggered your anxiety.

You gave her the space you thought she wanted while she secretly hoped you would talk to her - the change in her mood and behaviour noticeable for everyone in the team.

In the meantime her sister shot her shot.

Alba

hola

wanna hang out later?

Weird. The younger Putellas had never asked you to hang out before, at least not without Ale.

Not thinking too much about it you agreed, the girl suggesting to met up at the little café, the three of you visited often.

Later that afternoon, you walked to the café which wasn‘t far from your home, wearing casual clothers. Subconsciously, you hoped that Ale would be there too and when you just saw Alba sitting at your regular table, your heart hurt a little. "hi" you greeted with a smile though, the younger girl giving you a longer hug than usually. "How have you been?" she asked, "you look really pretty by the way" she added, what was going on here?

The whole time you felt uncomfortable with the way she flirted with you or would touch your arm and hand. Something seemed to be different compared to the last times.

Each time something flirtatious came you would change the subject - Ale always being the new topic. It annoyed Alba while it made you smile, happy and calm. Alexia was your safe space and happy place.

Alba slowly began to realize that she never stood a chance. It had always been Alexia and you. The way your eyes lit up when you mentioned Alexias name, the way your smile would reach the corner of your eyes - why didn't she realize that much sooner? The connection the two of you had was deeper and more meaningful than anything she had ever seen before. So while Alba only had a crush on you, Ale loved you.

And clearly, you loved her.

Guilt crept though her body as she understood what pain she caused, Alexia not returning their mothers calls, your calls and her own calls.

She understood the pain in the midfielders eyes the day she made her promise to treat you right.

"I think i have some explaining to do, y/n"

-

"Ale! Open the door!" you banged against her front door rapidly and firmly, your hand hurting from the force behind each knock. She was already in her sleeping outfit as she opened the door like she always did when you knocked. You looked out of breath, sweaty and face all red. "Did you just run here?" the Barcelona captain asked as she supported you to the way to the living room, placing you on the couch as she brought you a glass of water. "So?" she asked again, looking at you with the eyes she had when she was speaking to the team as their captain. You could only nod as you drowned the water, about to pass out. From the café to Ales home was a long way but you had to see her. As soon as Alba explained everything, you ran out of the café, leaving the younger Putellas by herself. Thinking back, it was a bad idea and you should‘ve listened to Alba as she offered to drive you.

"Tell me, what do you need?" Alexia said in a soft voice as she took a seat next to you, wiping the hair out of your face, "probably a shower" you replied yawning.

"Let‘s go" the girl lifted you up, carrying you like a child to the bathroom as your legs were wrapped around her waist, your head on her shoulder and her arms under your legs to support you. She placed you on the counter next to the sink, slowly starting to take your hair out of the plait and comb it, "i‘m going to get you some clothes" quickly, she took some random shorts and an oversized out her wardrobe before returning to you. "Here" she laid the clothes down, "take your time, i‘ll be waiting"

Stepping in to the shower, you let the hot water run over your shoulders down to your feet as your body started to relax. Taking your time but still showering rather quickly, you washed your hair and body. The smell of Alexia - her shampoo - filled the room, it smelled like home.

Ale was laying in her bed while she waited for you, many questions running through her mind. Why did you run to her home? Why did you knock on to her door like something happened? What happened?

As she heard the door of her bedroom open she sat up, leaning on her elbows, you looked cute in her clothes.

You had stayed over before many times, always wearing her clothes yet every time it made her heart flutter and cheeks blush. Alexia scooted aside as she patted on the free side of the bed. Join her. Making your way over, you flopped on the mattress, an exhausted sigh leaving your throat as you got more comfortable in Alexias bed. Both of you stared at the ceiling, neither of you saying a word. "Why did you run here? Where did you run from? What happened?" The questions bubbled out of her as she turned to you, your chest rising and falling in a normal pace. "Ran here from the café. I had to see you"

"From the café?!"

You hummed in agreement, "Alba asked me"

Ale‘s whole body tensed as she inhaled sharply. Did Alba ask-asked you? What did you mean? What did she ask you exactly? "You didn‘t tell me you had a fight with her"

it was your turn to face her, your arm supporting your head. She froze with fear. What was happening? "what are you talking about?" she wanted to play clueless but you knew better. You knew her and you knew now what happened at the family dinner, you knew everything. "Keyword: trophy"

"Don‘t" she whispered, laying on her back again, staring at the ceiling. Trophy, you were everything but a trophy to her, she didn‘t want to win you, she wanted you, to be with you. With a quick adjustment of your posture, you were at her side, leaning over her, to look at her. Her eyes were so beautiful. "You know, If I was a trophy-"

"You‘re not!" her voice was loud and clear, your heart melting while you ignored her statement to continue, "you would win me" her eyes grew wide, a shy smile covering her face as her cheeks burnt red, "Ale," your thumb traced along her jawline before your hand rested on her neck, "there was never the question: which sister. It's always been you, Ale, always" relief washed over the spaniards body, it was the confirmation she had to hear so dearly. Her hands cupped your cheeks, thumb caressing your them. "God, you‘re so beautiful" her eyes were full of hearts, her heart racing as her body was on fire, "I‘m so in love with you"

An upside down smile was written over your face as you got all shy under her compliment, confession and intense (yet loving) stare. You closed your eyes, slowly leaning down, her hands not pulling you in any way, it was all you. The midfielder watched every movement, only closing her eyes when she finally felt your lips against her own.

Sweet.

Your lips tasted sweet. She had often imagined the taste of your lips but wow they felt like heaven.

Even when the question arose: which sister? For you there had only ever been one answer, one sister, Alexia. The girl you fell in love with the moment you saw her tripping over her own feet on your first day in Barcelona.

—————————

[dizzyduck44]

Why Hungary was so hollow

An F1 win is an amazing achievement. One of the pinnacles of a drivers career. As a fan, we remember the ones that carry real weight to them, that come with a backstory, a driver we have felt has been unfortunate in the past, a truly spectacular drive.

Most of the drivers on the current F1 grid fall into that category. Pierre’s spectacular drive at Monza, the sheer weight of emotion for Charles at Spa, the feeling of justice for Lewis in Canada, the absolutely fairytale nature of Max in Barcelona, after driving brilliantly for 3 years against the might of that Red Bull car we all felt Lando deserved that win in Miami and who can forget the spectacular last to first debut win of Checo in Sakir when he was facing the end of his career.

We cherish them because they were special, earned, deserved. It’s what makes people cry over this sport and watch it all their life.

And this is why what happened in Hungary makes me uncomfortable and goes against the nature of what makes this sport special.

Team orders are not new. Hell Valtteri is cracking jokes about them now. For me they came to the forefront in the Michael Schumacher Ferrari days. And they were not liked. They were booed on the podium and on one occasion even messed it up and had the wrong driver win on the line. However it became accepted that if you want to win a championship, you had to resort to it.

And my God did Mercedes and Red Bull resort to it!

However it was going on further down the field for constructors points. I’ve never hidden from the fact that Carlos and Lando’s first podiums for McLaren required team orders (and penalties for Hamilton). We have seen Kevin gain more penalty points than actual points this season carrying out team orders. I swear Fernando is in charge of Aston’s and previously Alpine’s team orders. Somehow it became the norm to apply team orders for any situation and that was never going to end well.

Dispute it all you want Monza 2021 was a race decided on team orders, (confirmed yet again last week by Zak Brown) and at the point maybe people should have sat up, took notice and realised this is a bit of a slippery slope we are on. But no it was 2021, the Max and Lewis show, so a lot of other things got ignored.

And so to Hungary 2024. Now this is not analysis of why McLaren pitted who when, or why they now admit it never occurred to them they might be under pressure from people behind (seriously McLaren. SERIOUSLY!!!). Or the radio messages 🤬🤬🤬 Or the fact that apparently Lando was the reason this all went tits up ?!?!?!?!? We are going to look at how team orders have now handed a driver their first win in circumstances almost impossible to justify and seemingly implying they are banking that favour for later in the season.

There are two things that are key to this. Firstly the start and then everything that happened around the second pitstops.

Oscar got the lead yes, but then Max took 7 laps to let Lando through and only when threatened with a penalty, gifting Oscar that lead.

However Oscar’s first little off road adventuring just before the second pitstop changed a lot in the race. Lando caught him up. Now that nice gap McLaren had to double stack had gone.

They called Lando in as Lewis was 9 seconds behind, in out, 2 laps later Oscar in, out. Up to now this its straight forward. Simple switcharoo, easy 1-2.

Then Oscar went off the track again. This puts him 3 seconds behind Lando and 7 seconds ahead of Lewis. He is now closer to Lewis than Lando was before the pitstops.

At this point McLaren should have gone into save the race mode, instead they were transfixed on what they thought was going to happen 5 laps ago.

And what resulted from this was embarrassing not only for McLaren but F1. Team orders resulted in a driver slowing down a nearly 7 second lead to give his team mate who admitted he couldn’t catch him, his first win. And like most people I sat there thinking, WTF!

We watch F1 for the racing, the intelligence required to predict the best way forward to win the race. The necessity of the perfect pitstop and keeping the car on the grey stuff. It cheapens it when team orders gets used so flagrantly.

I’ve seen McLaren do this before in 1997 with Mika Hakkinen) however difference being Mika was a driver that nearly died in a crash in 1995. He had been on the grid a while and when McLaren rocked up with their missile in 1997 the drivers made an agreement whoever lead into the first corner of the first race could have the win. Mika led most of the race and then misheard a garbled radio message (no digital back then) and came into the pits when he didn’t need to. Coulthard was asked to give the place back and did (and we know how that ended, see Hungarian commentary for proof). End result people felt that win for Hakkinen was deserved, earned.

Hungary didn’t have the same sense of fairness about it. It wasn’t the first or last race of the season, no championships have been decided, every point counts. Oscar yes had driven a great 2/3rds of the race. But tiny errors had put him in the position he was in. If it was merely the undercut then that would have been resolved quickly. It came down to errors and lack of pace at the end. If you can’t catch the leader, how the hell can you expect to lead?

I used to think Esteban had the luckiest win on the F1 grid with Bottas bowling 7 cars at the start of the race. Nope this now takes that honour.

Let’s remember currently this is not for a championship (people would argue it hinders the championship). This was team orders because they can. The first time Oscar had every found himself near a win and despite the fact in any other circumstances he would have to take those mistakes as lessons learnt, McLaren gave him the win, because they think they are going to need him to return the favour later in the season. (Which means we will be going through this shitshow again).

That’s what sours the win and makes it feel hollow. Yes at some point any driver in a front running team is going to be gifted a win but not their first and not so obviously. It cheapens the credit of an F1 win period.

And I feel for those drivers who put in years of work at teams with non competitive cars. Who drove brilliantly. Who when the time came had to fight for that first win, case in point Seb or Jenson. Or had their first wins taken from them by the team’s errors, think Lando and George. There is no sense of accomplishment for Oscar.

Lando didn’t spoil that moment for Oscar. It’s hard to celebrate a win that doesn’t feel like it was earned.

The worst part of this, we all knew Oscar would win a race eventually. This didn’t need to be done at all. This for me feels like Max’s first title. Will always be questioned because of outside assistance, was it earned or was it gifted?

Hungary 2024 is not a race F1 should look back on fondly.

[scotianostra]

On July 6th 1747 Scottish naval figure, John Paul Jones, was born.

Might as well start the day off with a biggie, John Paul was a massive figure in the 18th century and persistant pain in the arse to the British, it's rather a long post, but I hope you learn how this guy was hailed as a hero or villain by many, read on ...................

Born in Kirkbean, where his father was the head gardener of the Arbigland Estate. John was born as “John Paul” but would add Jones later in his life. He was born the fourth child of seven and one of only five of such made it to adulthood. John Paul Jones isremembered in history as a naval hero to some and a pirate to others.

John had an education, being sent to Kirkbean School. However, he spent much of his time off at the nearby port of Carsethorn. Whenever he could he ran down to the port where he would talk to sailors and clamber all over the ships; it was clear that the sea was calling John.

At the age of just thirteen he signed on and began an apprenticeship for John Younger, a Scottish merchant shipper. His first voyage as a ship’s boy took him to the Americas, sailing to Barbados and then to Virginia where he stayed with his older brother William who had emigrated there and strived as a tailor.

After returning to the to Britain, John Paul had found that John Younger’s business was failing, and he was released from his apprenticeship. Now seventeen, he entered the slave trade. Within two years he transferred as first mate to the ship Two Friends of Kingston, Jamaica in 1766. The ship was only fifty feet long and after several voyages to and from Africa, John quit the slave trade in disgust calling it an “abominable trade” and booked passage back to Scotland. During the voyage, both the captain and first mate died of fever; John Paul was the only man on the ship qualified to bring the ship, named John, home safely. The owners of the ship were so pleased that they appointed him master and supercargo of the ship, the latter being an officer on a merchant ship in charge of the commercial concerns of the voyage.

Now at the age of twenty-one, John Paul Jones had become a captain. He adopted the manner of a young gentleman who was always neatly dressed and had an eye for the ladies but it's said he came with a violent temper. While captaining the John he was accused by the ships carpenter of excessive flogging. The carpenter was examined, and his complaint was dismissed. While returning the Scotland, that same carpenter died of Yellow Fever and John Paul was arrested and charged with murder. Evidence and a declaration from the master of the Barcelona Packet was sufficient to acquit John. The story will dog his entire life.

In the years prior to the American Revolution, John Paul took command of the Betsy in the fall of 1772. Trading back and forth between England and the West Indies, he accumulated a considerable sum. The flourishment all came to a halt when in 1773 John killed the ringleader of a mutiny with his sword aboard his ship in a dispute over wages. The man was a local of the West Indies, feeling was against John and to evade trial, he fled to Virginia. Here, he changed his named to John Paul Jones.

While in Virginia, Jones’ sympathies were with the colonists and the rebel cause. When Congress formed the Continental Navy, Jones rushed to Philadelphia to offer his services and was commissioned as first lieutenant in December 1775. At the time the Continental Navy consisted of a handful of ships; Jones was lieutenant of the Alfred and then later captain of the Providence. His exploits took him to the West Indies, where he distinguished himself against the British ship Glasgow. In 1776 he switched commands between Alfred and Providence as he operated in the Atlantic Ocean. He captured eight "prizes", sunk and burnt another eight, and towed to port several prizes to end the year.

In June 1777, Jones was appointed to the newly built Ranger. Sailing to the British Isles, he took several prizes before arriving in Brest, France in May 1778 where he was hailed as a hero. Operating out of Brest, Jones led a cruise to the Irish Sea capturing or destroying small vessels. This cruise made Jones a feared household name in Britain.

Returning to Brest once again, Jones was given command of the Duc de Duras, which he had converted to a warship. He renamed her the Bonhomme Richard in honor of Benjamin Franklin. In August 1779 he set sail for Britain again with a squadron of seven ships, raiding commerce around Scotland and Ireland for the better part of the month.

On September 23rd, Jones engaged a merchant fleet which consisted of the HMS Serapis and Countess of Scarborough. Jones was outgunned by the Serapis but thanks to his brilliant maneuvering, he lashed the Bonhomme Richard on to the enemy ship where a battle ensued for three and a half hours. When the enemy captain asked Jones if he would like to surrender, he promptly replied “I have not yet begun to fight!” Jones and his crew were victorious, but Bonhomme Richard began to sink. Jones transferred his remaining crew to the surrendered Serapis and Scarborough and sailed for the Netherlands.

Later he received a gold sword and the Order of Military Merit from Louis XVI. In 1787 Congress passed a vote of thanks for his honor of the American Fleet and they gave him a gold medal. When returned to America in 1781, Jones spent the remaining years of the war advising on the establishment of the navy and the training of naval officers. Jones is often referred to as the Father of the American navy.

After the Americans had won their independence, Jones offered his services to the Russian Empress Catherine II and was granted the rank of rear admiral, serving there for about two years. In May 1790 he returned to Paris where he spent the rest of his life in failing health. He wrote letters to his two estranged sisters in Scotland and to the French Minister of Marine to pay salaries to the men of Bonhomme Richard. On July 18th, 1792, Jones died at the age of 45 in his apartment in Paris.

For near on a century, John Paul Jones' body laid in an unmarked grave for foreign Protestants. In the late 1800s, with a great American naval expansion encouraged by Teddy Roosevelt, intensive research was made to find his body, which it was in 1905. Jones’ body was brought back on USS Brooklyn, and as the ship sailed into Chesapeake Bay seven battleships met them and fired off salutes. In 1913, his body was finally laid to rest at the chapel crypt of Annapolis Naval Academy, in a magnificent marble sarcophagus modeled after the tomb of Napoleon, his tomb is a major tourist attraction in the Maryland capital.

[planetaire]

5 + 25 🤗

5. What is the most overrated Beatles song by Tumblr users specifically?

idk about tumblr users specifically because I feel like fans on here have quite deep cut taste and this is probably the most popular beatles song ever…….but i don’t care for here comes the sun 😭 unfortunately I heavily associate it with the bee movie

25. What's your take on the Barcelona trip?

like obviously handjobs happened at a minimum I don’t even think that’s even disputable if he told the story privately and publicly 4 times. I do actually think it was a power play because john seemed really sensitive to power shifts / insecure about that kind of thing but I think his relationship with brian was complex and full of genuine love/some connection over queerness. but I don’t really think about spain too much because it makes me sad…….the amount of sad boy trips in their lore…………

[talkingwoso]

✈️ Vueling will be the Official Airline of FCBfemeni, a sponsorship agreement until 2026.

‼️ The club becomes the first European women's football team to have its own plane.

🔜This Thursday the plane will be unveiled, which will have the projected image of the players, and it will be the one that will take them to London to dispute the return of the UWCL semifinals.

via:

[gardenofkore]

Vere novo , priori jam mutato consilio , Alienora virgo regia , insignis facie , sed prudentia & honestate prestantior , futura Regina Sicilie , atque cum ea Nymphe obsequiis apte regalibus , accepta benedictione parentum , ab urbe Neapoli gloriosas discessit , per Calabriam , propter maris tedium , usque Regium iter agens : quam discedentem Neapolitane matres , quantum spectantes oculi capere potuerunt , effusis pre gaudio lacrimis affequute sunt.

Gregorio Rosario, Bibliotheca scriptorum qui res in Sicilia gestas sub Aragonum imperio retulere, I, p.456-457

Eleonora was born in Naples in the summer of 1289 as the tenth child (third daughter) of Carlo II lo Zoppo of Anjou, King of Naples, Count of Anjou and Maine, Count of Provence and Forcalquier, Prince of Achaea, and of Maria of Hungary.

Nothing, in particular, is known about her childhood, which she must have spent with her numerous siblings in the many castles of the Kingdom.

She is first mentioned in a Papal bull dated 1300 in which Boniface VIII annulled the marriage of 10 years-old Eleonora to Philippe de Toucy, Prince of Antioch and Count of Tripoli, (the contract had been signed the year before) on account of the bride’s young age and the fact that family hadn’t asked for the Pope’s dispensation.

Two years later, there were discussions of a match with Sancho, the second son (and later successor) of Jaume II of Majorca, but the engagement never occurred.

Finally, in 1302, Eleonora’s fate was sealed. On August 31st 1302 the Houses of Anjou-Naples and of Barcelona signed the Peace of Caltabellotta, which ended the first part of the War of the Sicilian Vespers and settled (or tried to) the problem of which House should have ruled over Sicily. Following this treaty, the old Norman Kingdom’s territory (disputed between the French and Spanish born ruling houses) was to be divided into two parts, with Messina Strait as the ideal boundary line. The peninsular part, the Kingdom of Sicily, now designed as citra farum (on this side of the farum, meaning the strait, later simply known as the Kingdom of Naples ), and the island of Sicily, renamed the Kingdom of Trinacria, designed as ultra farum (beyond the farum).

The Peace of Caltabellotta stipulated that Angevin troops should evacuate the island, while the Aragonese ones should leave the peninsular part. Foundation of the peace would have been the marriage between princess Eleonora of Anjou and King Federico III (or II) of Sicily (“e la pau fo axi feyta , quel rey Carles lexava la illa de Sicilia al rey Fraderich, que li donava a Lieonor, qui era e es encara de les pus savies chrestianes, e la millor qui el mon fos, si no tant solament madona Blanca, sa germana, regina Darago. E lo rey de Sicilia desemparava li tot quant tenia en Calabria e en tot lo regne: e aço se ferma de cascuna de les parts, e que lentredit ques llevava de Sicilia; si que tot lo regne nach gran goig." in Ramon Muntaner, Crónica catalana, ch. CXCVIII). The pact dictated also that once Federico had died, the two kingdoms would be reunited under the Angevin rule. This clause won’t be fulfilled.

The bridal party had to wait until spring 1303 before setting off for her new country since sea storms had damaged part of the fleet and thus delayed the departure. The voyage had cost 610 ounces, where the Florentine bankers Bardi and Peruzzi were asked to advance the payment, and the groom pledged to repay them 140 ounces.

By May 1303, Eleonora and her companions arrived in Messina where she was warmly welcomed and where on Pentecost, May 26th, of the same year she got married to Federico in Messina’s Cathedral (“E a poch de temps lo rey Carles trames madona la infanta molt honrradament a Macina, hon fo lo senyor rey Fraderich, qui la reebe ab gran solemnitat. E aqui a Macina, a la sgleya de madona sancta Maria la Nova, ell la pres per muller e aquell dia fo llevat lentredit per lola la terra de Sicilia per un llegat del Papa, qui era archebisbe, que hi vench de part del Papa, e foren perdonats a tot hom tots los pe cats quen la guerra haguessen feyts: e aquell dia fo posada corona en lesta a madona la regina de Sicilia, e fo la festa la major a Macina que hanch si faes.” in Ramon Muntaner, Crónica catalana, ch. CXCVIII).

After the wedding, most of the bridal party returned to Naples, while the newlyweds proceeded to Palermo.

On July 14th 1305 Eleonora gave birth to the heir, who was called Pietro in honour of the child’s paternal grandfather, Pere III of Aragon. To celebrate his son’s birth, Federico III gifted his bride of Avola castle and the surrounding land, to which will be added the city of Siracusa (in 1314), Lentini, Mineo, Vizzini, Paternò, Castiglione, Francavilla and the farmhouses in Val di Stefano di Briga. This gift would mark the creation of the Camera reginale, which would become the traditional wedding present given to Sicilian Queen consorts, and eventually would be abolished in 1537.

Including Pietro, she would give birth to nine children: Costanza (1304 – post 1344), future Queen consort of Cyprus, Armenia and Princess consort of Antiochia; Ruggero (born circa in 1305 - ?) who would die young; Manfredi (1306-1317) first among his brothers to hold the title of Duke of Athens and Neopatras; Isabella (1310-1349) Duchess consort of Bavaria; Guglielmo (1312-1338) Prince of Taranto and heir to the Duchy of Athens and Neopatras following the death of his brother; Giovanni (1317-1348) Duke of Randazzo, Count of Malta, later also Duke of Athens and Neopatras and Regent of Sicily; Caterina (1320-1342) Abbess of St. Claire Nunnery in Messina; Margherita (1331-1377) Countess Palatine consort of the Rhine.

Through these donations Eleonora became a full-fledged vassal, and had to pay homage to her husband the King. Thanks to official documents, we get the idea that Eleonora tried to manage her lands as much personally as she could do, naming herself vicars, administrators, and granting tariff reductions. Federico indulged his wife as much as he could, although in some cases (like the management of the city of Siracusa) his will was the only one taken into account.

Despite almost every time she was unsuccessful, Eleonora fully embraced her role as mediator between the Aragonese and Angevins. For example, in 1312 her brother-in-law, King Jaume II of Aragon, asked her to dissuade her husband (Jaume’s brother) to ally himself with the Holy Roman Emperor Heinrich VII of Luxembourg since this alliance could generate new friction with the Angevin Kingdom, as well as with the Papacy (with the risk of stalling the Aragonese occupation of Sardinia). After the King of Aragon, it was Pope Clemente’s turn to ask Eleonora to convince Federico to make peace with Roberto of Anjou. In both cases, though, her conciliatory efforts didn’t work.

In 1321 she witnessed her son Pietro being associated to the throne and thus crowned in Palermo (“Anno domini millesimo tricentesimo vicesimo primo, dum Johannes Romanus Pontifex contra Fridericum Regem, & Siculos propter invasionem bonorum Ecclesiarum precipue fulminaret, Fridericus Rex primogenitum suum Petrum, convenientibus Siculis, coronavit in Regem, & patris obitum, inopinatum premetuens, & ut filius qui purus videbatur & simplex, ab adoloscentia regnare cum patre affuesceret patrisque regnando vestigiis inhereret […]” in Gregorio Rosario, Bibliotheca scriptorum ..., I, p. 482). Pietro’s coronation publicly violated the Treaty of Caltabellotta (as the Kingdom should have returned to the House of Anjou), causing the pursuing of warfare between Naples and Palermo. Once again Eleonora’s attempts at peace-making failed miserably, with her nephew, Carlo Duke of Calabria, refusing to even meet her in 1325, after he had successfully raided the outskirts of Messina.

The Queen didn’t have much luck in internal policy too as she failed to appease her husband and her protegé, Giovanni II Chiaramonte. After gravely wounding Count Francesco I Ventimiglia of Geraci (his brother-in-law and one of the King’s trustees), all that Eleonora could do was advise Chiaramonte to flee to avoid the death penalty.

Nevertheless, the Pope still hoped to use the Queen (who, at that time and alone in her Kingdom,  was exempted from the Papal interdict) as mediator with her husband, promising to lift the excommunication in exchange for Federico’s backing down. Once again nothing happened.

On June 25th 1337 Federico III died near Paternò. He was buried in Catania since it was too hot for the body to be transported to Palermo (“Feretrum humeris nobiliores efferunt. Adsunt Regii filii, proceresque Regni. Exequias Regina, illustribus comitata matronis, prosequitur.” in Francesco Testa, De vita, et rebus gestis Federici 2. Siciliæ Regis, p.225). After the death of her husband, the now Dowager Queen turned to religion, following the example of those in her family who had consecrated themself to Christ (“At Heleonora certiorem fe de illa consolandi rationem inivit. Ipsa enim , ut Rex excessit e vita, ei, qui omnis consolationis fons est, fese in Virginum collegio Franciscanæ familiæ Catinæ devovit; in hoc Catharinan , & Margaritam filias imitata, quæ in ætatis flore, falsis terrestribus, contemptis bonis, Christ, cui fervire regnare est, in sacrarum Virginum Messanensi Collegio, de Basicò dicto, ejusdem Franciscanæ familiæ fese consecrarant; quod Collegium posteaquam Catharina fancte gubernavit, sanctitatis opinione commendata deceffit” in Francesco Testa, De vita..., p.226).

If Eleonora might have hoped to exert some kind of influence as many other Queen mothers did in the past and would do in the future over their weak-willed royal children, she would soon realize she had a powerful rival in the new Queen consort, her daughter-in-law, Elisabetta of Carinthia. Like Eleonora, the new Queen supported the Latin faction (a group of Sicilian noblemen who opposed the Aragonese rulership over Sicily, hoping the island would be returned under the influence of the Angevins instead). But, while Elisabetta had managed to raise the Palizzis to the highest positions at court, her mother-in-law still supported the Chiaramonte, making it possible for the exiled Giovanni II to return to Sicily, be pardoned by the King and see all his goods be returned. Soon though Chiaramonte resumed his personal feud against the Ventimiglia (also part of the Latin faction) and once again Eleonora's attempt to bring peace failed miserably. Only through Grand Justiciar Blasco II d'Alagona's intervetion, the crisis was averted.

In 1340, the Dowager Queen made a last attempt to appease the new Pope, Benedict XII. Unfortunately, the Sicilian envoys sent to Avignon to take an oath of vassalage (since Norman times Sicily theoretically belonged to the Papacy, who granted it to the Sovereigns who acted as Papal Legates) were treated roughly by the Pope, who declared Roberto of Anjou (Eleonora's brother) as Sicily's legitimate King.

Deeply distraught, the Dowager Queen resolved to definitely retire from public life. She spent what it remained on her life visiting the monastery of San Nicolo' d'Arena (Catania), joining the monks in their religious life. She died in one of the monastery's cells on August 10th 1341. Her body would be buried in the Church of San Francesco d'Assisi all'Immacolata (Catania), the construction of which she had personally promoted in 1329 to thank the Virgin Mary for protecting the city from one of many Mount Etna's eruptions.

Sources

AMARI MICHELE, La guerra del Vespro siciliano

CORRAO PIETRO, PIETRO II, re di Sicilia in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, Vol. 83

DE COURCELLES JEAN BAPTISTE PIERRE JULLIEN, Histoire généalogique et héraldique des pairs de France: des grands dignitaires de la couronne, des principales familles nobles du royaume et des maisons princières de l'Europe, Vol. XI,

FODALE SALVATORE, Federico III d’Aragona, re di Sicilia, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, Vol. 45

GREGORIO ROSARIO, Bibliotheca scriptorum qui res in Sicilia gestas sub Aragonum imperio retulere, I,

KIESEWETTER ANDREAS, ELEONORA d'Angiò, regina di Sicilia, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, Vol. 42

de MAS LATRIE LOUIS, Histoire de l'île de Chypre sous le règne des princes de la maison de Lusignan. 3

MUNTANER RAMON, Crónica catalana

Sicily/naples: counts & kings

TESTA FRANCESCO, De vita, et rebus gestis Federici 2. Siciliæ Regis

[saintcecily]

thinking about the many versions of cecily that have circulated . in certain parts of europe , she is still recognized as a saint ; her likeness painted into stain glass windows or carved into beautiful sculptures . in barcelona , her name is only whispered because a legend was spread around that spotting the lady of the black death meant your fate would soon be upon you . even within vampire circles , she's been both revered as a saintly magnanimous figure &. reviled as a twisted , evil , heartless creature . some tales claim she's upwards of 3,000 years old , &. it's a widely held belief she's done little to dispute since so few know the truth about her turning . anyways — consider what impression of cecily your muse might have , based on which stories / legends they have consumed of her !!

[rubes6]

[xavierbautistagarcia]

A King's Castle in a Roman city

The Castell del Rei is an ancient Roman building, which is why it is also known as Augustus' praetorium or Pilate's tower. It is not known whether it suffered degradation after the fall of the Empire in the ancient Tarraco, but it was recovered at the beginning of the 12th century, when the Counts of Barcelona pushed towards the south of the Principality of Catalonia.

Apart from the Roman names attributed to it, the importance of the Castell del Rei can be deduced from the fact that it was located in the provincial forum - the city was the capital of the province of Tarraco - and at the head of the circus.

When Ramon Berenguer III restored the castle in the Romanesque style of the early 12th century, it is likely that the remains that surround it today still had the protection of the original wall that now faces the sea, necessarily reinforced to re-establish what was probably the most important Roman city on the Mediterranean coast west of Rome, as can be seen in the nearby Torre de les Monges.

The importance of the castle lies in the interest shown in it by the successors of Ramon Berenguer III and Ramon Berenguer IV of Barcelona, who were intent on extending their domains after their lineage reunited the county crown with that of the kingdom of Aragon and abandoned the trans-Pyrenean dream after the disaster of Muret (1213).

In 1282, the future Alfons III of Aragon recorded an assault on the castle by the inhabitants of the nearby village of Selva del Camp over a dispute about royal taxes and the confiscation of cattle. Under the reigns of Jaume II, Pere IV and Joan II, extensions and reforms were carried out.

With the Castilian dynasty of the Trastamara, established in the Crown of Aragon at the beginning of the 15th century, everything changed. Ferran I stayed in the archbishop's residence instead of in his own castle when he was in Tarragona. In the 16th century it no longer had any function, but in the 17th century it became a military barracks and depot. In the 18th century it became a prison.

At the beginning of the 19th century, during the Spanish War of Independence, the withdrawal of the troops of the French marshal Suchet left the Tarragona fortifications badly damaged, due to the blows they made as they left the city. The castle also suffered the consequences, although in the middle of the century it recovered its penitentiary function, which it maintained for almost a century, until 1953.

[snarp]

Trying to explain the Disputation of Barcelona to two nearly-deaf Jewish men in a loud restaurant, because one of them told a family story implying that a family member (or maybe just the rabbi?) wanted to name him after Nachmanides, whom he said he had never heard of.