#play area des

[the-punforgiven]

Shoutout to the bad bitch who never once let me down in any fromsoft game I've played

Motherfucker's had my back since day 1 however many years ago and in this house we love and support her

Fuck yeah

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[six-improbable-things]

After playing several hours of Disco Elysium I've come to the conclusion that 1) more games should let you be cringefail. Not every protagonist needs to be awesome or badass. Sometimes playing a pathetic little guy is a lot of fun. And 2) dream sequences are highly underutilized in RPG video games. Don't let resting just be resting!!! Get a little weird with it!! (BG3 kinda-sorta does this with the Dream Visitor, but those aren't really dreams. They're real conversations, so it feels different. Not as interesting.)

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

I'm in my 20s... I should be at the club (read: the escape room I just found out about where 2 players start off each locked in a coffin in the dark)

[mini-cactus-set]

Today I babysat my mom’s sweet little pupper (aka my new best friend in the world) and my original Tamagotchi evolved into Mimitchi (perfect care adult!!) so yeah today was a pretty awesome day •ᴗ•

[sparrowmoth]

local blorbos inflict cuteness and chaos upon paldea (@villainsnest)

[katyspersonal]

I don't understand how there are people still supporting your content after it's clear you are an emotionally unstable narcissist. I swear some people care about their dumb fandoms more than common human decency.

First - I refuse to let my lore posts, drawings and theories be called 'content'. I protest. It is a very soulless term that reduces creativity (the very expression of the soul, mind you!) to some sort of shallow and more importantly, replaceable good. "Why you consume the content from this PROBLEMATIC :( person" in the same vein as "Why you buy your car fuel from an unethical corporation" is absolutely absurd in any way, because creations are not physical goods but something unique.

Second, you seem to be confused on what the fandom entails.

Being a fan of something, in fact, doesn't... really entail all that much? Being a fan of something doesn't, and will NEVER mean that you subscribe to certain cultural, religious, political or humanity values or opinions, it will NEVER be only for the ones the loudest people in the crowd deemed "right" and "pure" enough, and certainly it will NEVER be only for people with clear history *cough cough* or people of "proper" mental state *COUGH cough*.

The only, and only, and only, and ONLY "requirement" for being a Bloodborne fan is - to care about Bloodborne. Ironically, this is something people I tend to become antagonists with often fail at, as there is a difference between 'Bloodborne fan' and 'Mariadeline fan that knows nothing about BB lore and holds only interests in how to shame men more and what kind of fans to declare "problematic"' *COUGH COUGH* god sorry guys, got a bad cough attack during this ask fhdhgfds

But, again, I think we the people that obsess with this or that media came to the conclusion that gatekeeping leads to another extreme - the whole thing with shaming artists that draw something not accurate, and think something not 100% correct to the canon is 'dirtying' the canon. You know, the whole 'oh you are fan of X band? name 40 songs' thing. So I think gatekeeping should be avoided unless someone appears who is both completely uneducated about lore AND tries to set their own rules.

*COOOOOUGH COOOOOUGH*

But, yeah. Your confusion is likely caused by the fact that people who like Bloodborne... love to read about Bloodborne, and not about what user should be blacklisted and what character is this or that identity and what this or that character is "problematic" etc. I object the idea that certain game/movie/book/etc is only for "right" kind of people and I think we as society at this rate are capable of separating interaction with the fictional universe and personality/personal lives.

[aquelediaque]

[somethingaboutvampires]

To the assholes in my office: I'm not 12, can't relate.

[batboyblog]

Copy Right and Public Domain in 2024

Happy 2024 all! its also Public Domain Day! a magical holiday here in America where things enter the public domain. Works published in the year 1928 (or 95 years ago!) have entered the public domain, which means they belong to us, all of us, the public!

Mickey's Back!

Yes! I'm sure you've heard, but Mickey Mouse (and Minnie Mouse too) is entering the Public Domain today. This has been news for a few years and indeed Disney's lobbying in the late 1990s is why our copy right term is SO long. So what exactly is now public domain?

Most people know about Mickey's first appearance Steamboat Willie, but a second short film, Plane Crazy was also released in 1928 so will also be public domain. So what's public? well these two films first of all, you're allowed to play them, upload them to YouTube or whatever without paying Disney. In theory you'll be allowed to cut and sample them, have them playing in the background of your movie etc. Likewise in theory the image of Mickey and Minnie as they appear (thats important) in these films will be free to use as well as Mickey's character as he appears in these works will be free to use. Now Mickey's later and more famous appearance

will still be protected. Famously the Conan Doyle Estate claimed that Sherlock Holmes couldn't be nice, smile, or not hate women in works because they still held the copyright on the short stories where he first did those things even though 90% of Sherlock Holmes stories were public domain. It's very likely Disney will assert similar claims over Mickey, claiming much of his personality first appeared in works still copyrighted.

Finally there's copyright vs trademark. Copyright is total ownership of a piece of media and all the ideas that appear in it, copyright has a limited set term and expires. Trademark is more limited and only applies to things used to market and sell a product. You can have a Coke branded vending machine in your movie if you want, but it couldn't appear anywhere in the trailer for your movie as thats you marketing your movie.

Where trademark ends and copyright begins and how trademarked something in the public domain is allowed to be are all unsettled areas of law and clearly Disney in the last few years as been aggressively pushing its trademark not just to Mickey in general but Steamboat Willie Mickey in particular

Ultimately the legal rights and wrongs of this might not matter so much since few people have the money and legal resources of the Walt Disney corporation so they might manage to maintain a de facto copyright on Mickey through legal intimidation, but maybe not?

And Tigger Too!

All the talk about Mickey Mouse and Steamboat Willie has sadly overshadowed other MAJOR things entering the public domain today. Most people are aware Winnie the Pooh entered the public domain in 2022, but they might not realize his beloved friend Tigger didn't. Thats because Tigger didn't appear till A. A. Milne's second (and last) book of Pooh short stories, The House at Pooh Corner in 1928.

Much like Mickey Mouse only what appears in The House at Pooh Corner is public domain so the orange bouncy boy from the 1960s Disney cartoon is still on lock down. But the A. A. Milne original as illustrated by E. H. Shepard is free for you to use in fiction or art. His friend Winnie the Pooh has made a number of appearances since being freed, most notably in a horror movie, but also a Mint Mobile commercial so maybe Tigger too will have a lot of luck in the public domain.

Other works:

Peter Pan; or the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up

Peter Pan is a strange case, even though the play was first mounted in 1904, and the novelization (Peter and Wendy) was published in 1911, The script for the play was not published till 1928 (confusing!) meaning while the novel as been public domain for years the play (which came first) hasn't been, but now it is and people are welcome to mount productions of it.

Millions of Cats

The oldest picture book still in print, did you own a copy growing up? (I did)

Lady Chatterley's Lover

The iconic porn novel that was at the center of a number of groundbreaking obscenity cases in the 1960s and helped establish your right to free speech.

All Quiet on the Western Front and The Threepenny Opera in their original German (but you can translate them if you want), The Mystery of the Blue Train by Agatha Christie, and Orlando by Virginia Woolf will also be joining us in the public domain along with any and all plays, novels, and books published in 1928

for Films we have The Man Who Laughs who's iconic image inspired the Joker

Charlie Chaplin's The Circus, Buster Keaton's The Cameraman, Should Married Men Go Home? the first Laurel and Hardy movie, Lights of New York the first "all talking" movie, The Passion of Joan of Arc, The Wind, as well as The Last Command and Street Angel the first films to win Oscars for Best Actor and Best Actress respectively will all be entering public domain

For Musical Compositions (more on that in a moment) we've got

Mack the Knife by Bertolt Brecht, Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love) by Cole Porter, Sonny Boy by George Gard DeSylva, Lew Brown & Ray Henderson, Empty Bed Blues by J. C. Johnson, and Makin’ Whoopee! by Gus Khan are some of the notables but any piece of music published in 1928 is covered

Any art work published in 1928, which might include works by Frida Kahlo, Georgia O'Keeffe, Alexej von Jawlensky, Edward Hopper, and André Kertész will enter the public domain, we are sure those that M. C. Escher's Tower of Babel will be in the public domain

Swan Song, Public Domain and recorded music

While most things are covered by the Copyright Act of 1976 as amended by the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, none of the copyright acts covered recordings you see when American copyright law was first written recordings did not exist and so through its many amendings no one fixed this problem, movies were treated like plays and artwork, but recorded sound wasn't covered by any federal law. So all sound recordings from before 1972 were governed by a confusing mess of state level laws making it basically impossible to say what was public and what was under copyright. In 2017 Congress managed to do something right and passed the Music Modernization Act. Under the act all recordings from 1922 and before would enter the public domain in 2022. After taking a break for 2023, all sound recordings made in 1923 have entered the public domain today on January 1st 2024, these include.

Charleston by James P. Johnson

Yes! We Have No Bananas (recorded by a lot artists that year)

Who’s Sorry Now by Lewis James

Down Hearted Blues by Bessie Smith

Lawdy, Lawdy Blues by Ida Cox

Southern Blues and Moonshine Blues by Ma Rainey

That American Boy of Mine and Parade of the Wooden Soldiers by Paul Whiteman and his Orchestra

Dipper Mouth Blues and Froggie More by King Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band, featuring Louis Armstrong

Bambalina by Ray Miller Orchestra

Swingin’ Down the Lane by Isham Jones Orchestra

Enjoy your public domain works!

[theonottsbxtch]

LOVE - LOCKED | FC43

an: this is based off of this request and i hope you like it bc i had sm fun writing a romantic slightly angsty thing i cant wait to hear what y'all thin, i also think it may be slightly rushed tho so lol ALSO LOL WE'RE GONNA PRETEND CARLOS IS YOUNGER IN THIS BC I NEEDED HER TO BE HIS OLDER SISTER

summary: carlos' sister has lived her life completely separated from him and their family name, instead she went and made a name for herself in the tennis world - she likes her life like that. that is until she meets franco colapinto

wc: 8.7k

The roar of engines, even from a distance, unsettled her.

They reminded her of the long days her father and brother spent in garages, the low rumble of motors and sharp tang of fuel in the air. Those were the hours she’d spend alone, working on her serve in the empty court across town, each hit ricocheting off the walls with a hollow, lonely echo. Her own choice, of course. She’d had no interest in the world of carbon fibre and grease, no desire to be the girl who simply tagged along, her name always in her brother’s shadow.

Now, years later, she’d become someone entirely on her own terms. A name people knew on its own — Vázquez de Castro — a name that meant something outside of her family, outside of her brother’s fame.

She slipped her phone into her bag and looked around the chaotic pit lane. Journalists, engineers, teams in matching shirts, faces alight with anticipation for the weekend's race. She knew she’d stand out here; her face might be familiar, but she was a stranger in this world.

The hum of voices around her faded as she felt his gaze. She’d been hoping to move through unnoticed, just a face in a sea of faces, but there he was: tall, familiar, unmistakably Carlos. His brow furrowed in surprise as he caught sight of her, his quick steps carrying him closer before she had a chance to dodge. She braced herself, turning to him with a calm that she didn’t quite feel.

“No aquí,” she murmured, her voice low, hoping that would be enough to keep curious ears at bay.

He paused, just a moment, his expression softening in understanding, and he tilted his head, his face somewhere between a grin and a frown. “You came.”

It wasn’t an accusation exactly — more surprise than anything. But she couldn’t miss the faint hope in his eyes, as if he thought she might be here to see him, to share a piece of his world after all this time. She let his words linger for a beat before she replied, her tone steady.

“I was invited,” she said, giving a slight shrug, “by Fernando.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the green and silver canopy, keeping her tone casual, but she saw his shoulders fall ever so slightly.

He nodded, glancing away for a moment, his jaw set. “Right. Fernando.”

There was something she wanted to say, something to soften the look in his eyes, but the pit lane was crowded, the eyes and cameras trained on every inch of the paddock sharper than she’d ever expected. They’d notice anything. And the last thing she wanted was for the papers to start spinning stories, putting her under a headline right next to him.

She touched his arm briefly. “Te hablo en el hotel. I’ll speak to you at the hotel.”

As she made her way toward the exit, ready to slip back into the background and disappear, she heard a voice calling out just over the rumble of engines and chatter.

“¡La princesa española!”

The words were unmistakable, lilting and clear, even with the crowd and machinery all around. The Spanish Princess. The nickname made her falter. It was something she sometimes heard on the tennis courts in Madrid or whispered by fans in distant cities when she played in international tournaments. But here? She scanned the area, puzzled at who would recognise her in this world of racing.

When she turned, her eyes met those of someone unfamiliar yet striking. He was tall, with an easy, disarming smile, his race suit gleaming with the bright, bold colours of his team’s livery. He looked young, not much older than she was, but he carried himself with that unmistakable energy she’d seen in rising stars before. The rookie, she realised, though she hadn’t kept up enough to know his name.

He held her gaze a moment too long, that same smile lingering as he approached, his eyes sparking with something between amusement and curiosity. She felt herself tense, almost involuntarily, her instinct telling her to slip away, to avoid whatever came next.

“Es realmente la princesa española,” he said, his tone playful yet certain.

Then it hit her.

Franco.

That was his name.

Franco’s grin widened as he closed the distance between them, his eyes bright with an almost boyish enthusiasm. “Soy un gran admirador de tu trabajo,” he said, his Argentine accent softening his words. “I’ve watched almost all your matches — I love the way you play.”

She blinked, taken aback. This wasn’t the usual kind of recognition she got, especially not here. She could count on one hand how many times she’d been recognised in public. She looked at him, trying to reconcile this confident young driver with the earnest fan in front of her.

“¿Me conoces?” The question slipped out before she could think, her voice tinged with disbelief.

He raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering. “¿Quién no te conoce?” he replied, with a touch of humour. “La princesa española, queen of the clay court, unstoppable backhand — yeah, I know you.”

There was something genuine in his tone, something that set him apart from the usual strangers who said they knew her. 

And before she could stop herself, she found herself almost smiling. She cleared her throat, searching for a response, but her mind was blank. What could she say? That she knew nothing of him, or any of these people — that she had only set foot here today by chance?

She settled for a simple, “Gracias.”

Franco’s curiosity didn’t waver. He leaned in slightly, folding his arms with an amused glint in his eyes. “So, what brings la princesa española to the F1 paddock?”

She shrugged lightly, careful not to reveal too much. “I’m here as one of Fernando Alonso’s guests. Aston Martin.” She left it at that, hoping he wouldn’t dig further. Noticing that she looked a bit like another driver on the paddock. Thankfully, he didn’t.

His grin only grew wider, and she had the feeling that her mystery intrigued him. “Well then, if you’re one of Fernando’s guests, that means you’re not tied to my team,” he said with a glint of mischief. “Come with me — I’ll give you a tour of my garage. It’ll be like… a private tour.”

She hesitated, her gaze shifting back toward the exit, where she’d planned to slip out and leave all of this behind. If she went with him, there was a chance people would recognise her, start to connect her with her brother’s world. She’d spent her whole career carefully avoiding this — the headlines, the whispers, the inevitable questions about why she’d chosen such a different path. But the look on his face, that open, boyish enthusiasm, was hard to resist.

She let out a sigh, then looked up at him with a sudden, defiant glimmer in her eye. “Screw it. ¿Por qué no?”

His whole face lit up. She could practically see the excitement radiating off him as he extended his hand, his confidence a little too easy, a little too certain. She eyed his hand for a moment before raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“Modales,” she chided, her tone playful. “I’ve known you for five minutes. We’re not dating.”

“Yet,” he replied without missing a beat, a spark in his eyes.

Despite herself, she smiled, a real one, something she hadn’t felt since stepping into the paddock that day.

He led her through the bustling paddock with an easy confidence, weaving between crew members, equipment, and cameras as if none of it could touch him. She was impressed, though she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so. The chaos of the pit lane, the narrow spaces and the clang of metal, all seemed to bend around him.

When they reached his team’s garage, he stopped by a young assistant stationed just outside, who looked at them with curious eyes.

“Do me a favour,” he said, barely containing his grin, “and grab a VIP lanyard for Williams’ guests, will you?”

The assistant glanced at her, his eyes widening slightly in recognition before he nodded and ducked away, returning a moment later with a crisp, team-branded lanyard. Franco took it with a pleased smile, then held out his hand for hers. She unclipped the Aston Martin lanyard from her neck and handed it over, watching with a mix of surprise and amusement as he replaced it with the one from his own team.

“There,” he said, adjusting the lanyard’s position with exaggerated care. “Now you’re officially part of the team.”

She couldn’t hold back her smirk. “You know, I don’t think lanyards change allegiances so easily.”

“Maybe not. But I do think it’s an improvement.” He winked, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Besides, the only lanyard you should be wearing here is mine.”

She laughed, caught off guard by his unfiltered charm, as he held out his arm with an exaggerated flourish. “And now, mi princesa, a grand tour.”

He led her into the garage, his tone switching between informative and teasing as he explained the various stations. “Over here, we have the engineering bay — where the magic of data happens.” He gestured toward a row of monitors displaying endless streams of numbers. “And these guys in the corner? They’re the wizards of aerodynamics. Make a mess, they won’t let you forget it.”

As they moved through each section, he offered her a glimpse into the world of F1, his energy and excitement almost contagious. She watched him with quiet intrigue; he seemed to belong here completely, as if he thrived in the chaos and intensity of it all.

“Now, over here,” he continued, leaning a bit closer to her as they approached a sleek wall of tires and tools, “this is where I go for my pre-race pep talks. I think it helps the tires, too.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You talk to the tires?”

“Only on occasion,” he said with a mock-serious nod. “And they listen. Or at least, I hope they do.” He grinned again, that glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Besides, they never talk back.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but there was a smile in it, one she couldn’t quite suppress. He was disarming, funny in a way that felt refreshingly different from the sharp, serious world she’d known. He noticed the hint of a smile and held her gaze, leaning in just slightly.

Before she could say anything else, Franco led her deeper into the garage, weaving through the maze of tools, car parts, and engineers, who looked up now and then with curious glances. She followed, intrigued despite herself, and finally, unable to keep silent, asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, shooting her a look over his shoulder that was both charming and infuriatingly vague.

He stopped in front of a nondescript door tucked away from the bustle of the main garage. She glanced around, realising they were in the private part of the team’s area. He opened the door to his driver room, gesturing for her to step inside. The room was small but comfortable, filled with team memorabilia, spare racing gloves, and a neat rack of team-branded clothes. Before she could take it all in, he went over to a stack of neatly folded shirts and pulled one from the pile.

He turned back to her, holding up the shirt with a proud smile. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. “Wear this tomorrow.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and the shirt with mock scepticism. “Bold of you to assume I’d wear your merch.”

His grin only widened. “I think you’d look great in it,” he said, undeterred. “Besides, it’d be an honour to have la princesa española in my colours.”

She took the shirt, running her fingers over the soft fabric, and met his gaze with a slight smirk. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me,” he replied, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, his phone buzzed on the nearby table, and he glanced at it with a slight frown before pocketing it again.

“So,” he continued, his tone shifting to something a little more casual, “what are you doing for dinner?”

The question surprised her. She hadn’t planned on lingering much longer after her brother’s race prep finished. She hadn’t planned on any of this, really. But he was watching her expectantly, and for a moment, she let herself consider it.

“Dinner?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. “You’re not very subtle, are you?”

“Not at all,” he admitted with a grin. “What do you say? Let me take you out. I promise I’m as good at picking places to eat as I am at tours.”

She couldn’t resist a small laugh. “Alright,” she said, glancing up at him with an easy smile. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

He opened his mouth to say something more, but just then, a voice called out from down the hallway. “Franco man, we’ve been looking all around for you!” A team manager appeared in the doorway, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.

Franco sighed, flashing her an apologetic look as he straightened. “Duty calls,” he muttered with a smirk. He lingered a moment, as if reluctant to leave, then glanced back at her with a warm smile.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, feeling a thrill she hadn’t expected. “See you tonight.”

He nodded, his grin returning full force, then turned to follow the manager out, giving her a final, backward glance that lingered just a second too long.

Back in her hotel room, she brushed a final touch of mascara over her lashes and glanced at her phone, where a text from Franco glowed on the screen.

Franco: “Ready whenever you are. No rush. See you soon :)”

She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Tonight felt surprisingly… normal. Like she was just someone getting ready for a date, no stakes attached. She straightened her dress, checked her reflection, and took a steadying breath.

A soft knock at her door snapped her from her thoughts, and she felt a small flutter of excitement, assuming it was him. But when she opened the door, her breath caught.

Her brother stood there, his expression a mixture of confusion and something she couldn’t quite read. She masked her surprise quickly, stepping aside to let him in, though her voice was firm. “I can talk for a bit, but I have plans tonight.”

“With Franco?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, caught off guard. “How did you know?”

He gave a soft, humourless laugh, crossing his arms. “I saw you two in the paddock,” he said. “And I overheard him talking about it in the garage. Apparently, he couldn’t stop telling anyone who’d listen about his ‘date with la princesa de España.’” He looked at her, and his voice softened. “So why is it you have no problem being seen with him, but not with your own brother?”

His question hung heavily in the air, the familiar tension between them settling back into place. She took a breath, struggling for the right words. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be seen with him — it was the weight of everything that came with it. The press, the fans, the inevitable comparisons. She could already see the headlines if they were spotted together, her name placed directly beside his, stripping away the hard-won independence she’d fought for.

She sighed, glancing at him. “It’s not… about you,” she said carefully. “It’s just… everything that comes with it. You know how it is.”

He shook his head, looking slightly hurt. “I don’t know, actually. I’ve always thought we were supposed to be in this together. But I feel like… I don’t know, like you’re just trying to run from anything that connects us.”

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe, her voice dropping to something softer, more serious. “It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I just don’t want to be known as Carlos’ sister everywhere I go. I’ve worked hard to build my own name, my own career, and sometimes… being around you, it overshadows that.”

Her brother studied her, his face a mix of understanding and something else, a flash of protective instinct. “You know, if you date Franco, you’ll just end up being known as his girlfriend,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “It’s just a date, Carlos. Nothing more.”

He shrugged, his mouth quirking in a small smile. “Yeah, well, with him, nothing ever stays ‘just’ anything. Just saying.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth behind it. “Thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.”

They shared a quiet moment of understanding before she gently nudged him toward the door. “Go get some rest. And good luck tomorrow. I’ll be cheering from the sidelines.”

The evening was soft and cool, the sky painted in shades of violet and indigo as the city stretched out below them. The balcony they’d stepped onto was tucked away from the bustling noise of the hotel, private and intimate, offering only the sounds of the night breeze and the occasional far-off hum of the city.

Franco had arranged it all—quiet, serene, away from prying eyes. The dinner was simple but elegant: a few delicate dishes of fresh seafood, wine that wasn’t too heavy, just enough to let the conversation flow freely. It was just the two of them, and she realised as she stood there, her hand brushing the railing, how rare that felt.

She’d worn a dress that was understated, yet elegant—a deep midnight blue that mirrored the evening sky, the fabric light enough to catch the breeze. She hadn’t given it much thought; it wasn’t for anyone but herself. But when Franco first saw her, the look in his eyes told her that, maybe, it had been the right choice after all.

His gaze lifted from the table where he had been adjusting the wine glasses, and the moment he saw her, the words spilled out before he could even stop them.

“Dios mío, qué hermosa estás.” His voice was low, his gaze sweeping over her with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

She felt her cheeks flush, the compliment unexpected but not unwelcome. She had been nervous about the evening, unsure of what this was or what it would become. But his words, simple and sincere, relaxed something inside her.

“Gracias,” she replied with a small smile, feeling the warmth in her chest spread, her eyes meeting his.

He stood up, taking a small step toward her as if to take in the full picture, his gaze never leaving her face. “I swear,” he continued, his voice filled with genuine awe, “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more stunning than earlier. It's like... you're glowing.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I think you’re just being kind.”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head as he closed the distance between them. “I’m not the kind of guy to throw compliments around just to be polite. Te ves increíble, you look incredible.”

After a decent amount of eating, a stretched out silence, Franco spoke up. “So,” he began, his voice casual but warm, “what’s it like to be the la princesa española outside of tennis?”

She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her wine. “I don’t really think of myself as that,” she said lightly. “It’s just a nickname.”

“I don’t know,” he teased. “I think it suits you. You have a... regal air about you.” His eyes glinted with mischief as he added, “I’m sure you’d never get away with being late for anything. Everyone would just wait for the princess to show up.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “You really are persistent with those compliments, aren’t you?”

“Solo con la verdad,” he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself.

The evening unfolded easily after that. They spoke about everything and nothing: about their childhoods, what had brought them to this point in their careers, how it felt to always be in the spotlight. She told him stories from her tennis matches, and he shared wild tales of racing, of the constant pressure and adrenaline.

But it was the quieter moments, the small pauses between their words, that felt the most significant. When he leaned in to pass her the bottle of wine, their hands brushed, and the air seemed to thicken for a moment. His gaze lingered a bit longer than it needed to, and she noticed the subtle way his smile softened when their eyes met. She wasn’t used to this — this ease, this comfort that felt so unforced — but it was exactly what she hadn’t realised she’d been searching for.

“You know,” Franco said, his tone thoughtful, “I can’t remember the last time I had a night like this. Just—” He waved his hand toward the view, the quiet that surrounded them. “It’s nice. To not be rushing off to something. No cameras, no expectations.”

She looked out over the balcony at the skyline, the city lights twinkling in the distance. “I know what you mean. There’s always so much noise, so many people trying to pull you in different directions. It’s rare to just… be.” She turned to look at him, her voice lowering slightly. “It’s a little surreal, actually.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, there was a silence between them that felt like a shared understanding. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he looked at her, his expression genuine. “I’m glad you’re here with me tonight. I’m glad I got to spend this time with you.”

Her heart did a little flip at the sincerity in his voice. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from the evening, but this — this felt right.

“So,” he continued, his voice lightening again, “any chance I can convince you to wear my team’s shirt tomorrow?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he said with a wink, “but only because I know you’d look amazing in it.”

She rolled her eyes but could feel the warmth in her chest spread. “I’ll think about it,” she teased, mirroring his playful tone.

The conversation drifted back to lighter topics, the evening unfolding with ease as the world seemed to blur around them. As the night deepened, they shared stories, laughter, and quiet glances that spoke volumes. It wasn’t the fireworks, the grand gestures of a first date. But it was something else — something that felt like a beginning.

When the last of the wine was finished, and the candles flickered low, Franco stood, offering her a hand to help her to her feet. He didn’t say anything at first, but his eyes told her everything. His fingers brushed against hers, and she didn’t pull away.

As the night grew later, the air around them cooled, and they moved to the edge of the balcony, gazing out over the city. The quiet was comforting, the soft hum of distant traffic the only sound breaking the stillness between them.

She let out a small sigh, her mind wandering, and with it, the weight of everything that had brought her to this moment. She looked up at him, caught in the calm but uncertain about what this night might mean.

"Well, this has been lovely," she said, her voice light but tinged with something else. "But, just so you know… this is probably going to be our only date."

His eyebrows furrowed, his smile faltering for just a fraction of a second. “Why?” he asked, his tone suddenly laced with concern. “Have I done something wrong?”

She met his gaze, her chest tight for reasons she couldn’t quite place. There was no logical reason for her to feel that way — he had been nothing but kind, charming, and genuine all night. But there was still that lingering sense of hesitation, a wall she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to tear down.

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head as if to reassure him. “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this.”

He looked at her for a long moment, studying her face. The playful glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer, something quieter, as if he were trying to understand her better.

“I’m not really a person who runs from things," she said, her voice lowering slightly, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. “But there are parts of my life I’m... careful about. I can’t help but keep them to myself.”

She hesitated, feeling a strange tug in her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she found herself wanting to share something personal, something she had hidden away. She took a breath and let it slip out before she could second-guess herself.

“I have a brother,” she began, looking out at the city below them, trying to steady her voice. “He’s a Formula 1 driver.”

Franco froze, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait... what?”

She glanced at him, a slight laugh escaping her lips at the look of genuine surprise on his face. “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Carlos.”

He blinked, his surprise turning into a quiet sense of disbelief. “Carlos Sainz?” He repeated her brother’s name, almost as if he were trying to process it. “I had no idea…”

She looked at him, a slight sadness settling in her chest. “Most people don’t,” she said, her voice quiet now. “I never tell anyone. I’ve worked my entire life to be known for me—for what I do, not because of who I’m related to. I don’t want to live in someone’s shadow.”

Franco didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch out between them. He was thinking, she could tell. It was as though he were weighing her words, weighing the tension in her tone. Then, slowly, he spoke, his voice steady but sincere.

“With me, you wouldn't,” he said, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that took her by surprise. “You wouldn’t be in anyone’s shadow. Not if you didn’t want to be.”

She was quiet for a long moment, his words sinking in. Part of her wanted to dismiss it, wanted to keep pushing away the idea of anyone in her life stepping into that shadow. But there was something in his eyes—something honest and unwavering—that made her hesitate. He wasn’t offering her fame or status. He was offering her something far simpler. The space to be herself.

Then, he said something that made her heart skip a beat.

“I’ll be your WAG,” he said, his voice surprisingly matter-of-fact, his smile just a little crooked.

She laughed, a quick, startled sound. “What?” she teased, shaking her head. “Are you serious? ‘WAG’—really?”

He leaned in slightly, the smile still on his face but his eyes unflinching. “En serio. I’m serious.” he added with a little more emphasis, the words flowing naturally from him.

Her laughter died down, replaced by a brief, curious silence. She was still processing his words, still trying to understand how it had escalated from a simple dinner to this.

“You’re joking,” she said softly, unsure whether to laugh or take him seriously.

“No,” he7 replied, his voice now calm, almost earnest. “I’m not. Look, I get it. The whole ‘WAG’ thing... it sounds ridiculous, I know. But the way I see it, we’d be a team. You’d have my back, and I’d have yours. No shadows, no expectations, just us. What we make of it.”

She took a step back, crossing her arms as she considered what he was saying. The idea of it felt foreign, a little intimidating, but something about it also felt right in a way she hadn’t expected. No grand gestures, no drama. Just… us, as he’d said.

“Don’t you think I’d look good in a sponsored Channel crop top?” he joked, and the thought of it made her laugh.

Before she could stop it, however, her mind flashed to her brother, to the years of keeping her life private, to the way she had fought so hard to remain in the background of her family’s legacy. And yet here was Franco, offering something different. He wasn’t asking her to be a part of his world—he was offering her a partnership, an equal footing.

For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to truly think about what that might mean. To be seen, not as someone’s sister or someone’s girlfriend, but just as herself.

“Maybe... maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she said quietly, her voice uncertain but filled with a growing sense of possibility.

Franco looked at her, a quiet confidence in his eyes. “Entonces, we’ll figure it out together. No shadows. Just us.”

“Just us.”

“You better wear my shirt tomorrow,” he said, his voice teasing but hopeful.

She smirked, folding her arms across her chest as she looked at him. “I’ll think about it.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “You better. I’ll be watching.”

She laughed, shaking her head at his persistence. “We’ll see.”

The next morning arrived with the usual rush, the anticipation of race day filling the air. She woke up to a sunlit room and a few messages on her phone, the familiar bustle of the paddock already beginning to take shape outside her window. As she moved around the room, preparing for the day ahead, her mind wandered back to the previous evening.

She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair back into a sleek ponytail, glancing over her outfit choices. She’d packed a nice pair of fitted trousers and a smart blouse for the day. But then, as she opened her suitcase to grab something, she saw it—the shirt.

It was sitting on top of her suitcase, folded neatly, the soft fabric of his team’s shirt catching the light. The sight of it made her pause. She could feel a flutter of uncertainty in her chest as she stared at the shirt. It wasn’t like her to let herself be swayed by someone else’s request. But something about Franco, about the way he’d looked at her, made her reconsider.

She bit her lip, considering her options. The shirt was casual, simple, but it also felt like a statement. She could wear it for him, just this once, maybe just to see how it felt. There was no harm in that, right?

She grabbed the shirt, examining it for a moment. It was an understated design—his team’s logo in the corner, a soft fabric, nothing too flashy. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would normally wear, but for some reason, she felt drawn to it. And then it hit her—maybe it wasn’t about the shirt at all. It was about the confidence to wear it, to stand beside him and let the world see her as she was, without hesitation.

She had a moment of inspiration.

Instead of simply slipping it on with jeans like she’d imagined, she decided to give it a bit of a twist. She styled it with an oversized blazer, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the shirt underneath, and a pair of high-waisted pants. The look was effortlessly cool, edgy, but still very much her. She paired it with a pair of sleek, minimalist sneakers, and, just before she finished, added a bold red lip to complete the ensemble.

When she looked in the mirror, she felt a sense of pride. It was a simple shirt, yes, but it was her way of wearing it. And somehow, it made her feel like she was making her own mark, not hiding behind anyone else’s expectations.

She grabbed her phone, checking the time, then sent Franco a quick message.

“I thought about it. I’ll wear the shirt. But only because it goes with my outfit.”

She added a playful winking emoji before hitting send, knowing that he’d appreciate the humour in it.

The morning was just beginning to pick up its pace as she finished getting ready. The weight of the day’s events, the race, the energy of the paddock, all began to settle in. But for the first time in a while, she felt a small sense of excitement, an eagerness she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t about the race itself, but about the people she was meeting, the connections she was making, and—perhaps most unexpectedly—what might lie ahead with Franco.

She was just about to head out of her hotel room when there was a knock on the door. She knew that knock—steady and familiar. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find her brother standing there, his usual calm exterior softened by a quiet intensity in his gaze.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes searching hers.

She nodded, stepping back to let him in. She could tell he was a bit surprised when he saw the shirt she was wearing—the shirt of a rival team. He glanced at it, one brow raised slightly, but he didn’t comment, just closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall.

He took a deep breath, as if he’d been building up to this. “Are you… thinking of seeing him again?”

There was something tentative in the way he asked, a kind of brotherly concern that she hadn’t seen in a long time. She shrugged, trying to keep her tone casual. “Maybe. I’m considering it.”

He nodded slowly, looking away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then, almost hesitantly, he said, “Why are you okay with being seen with him, and not with me?”

The question landed heavily between them, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to answer. She looked at him, seeing the vulnerability in his expression, the unspoken hurt in his eyes. It was rare for him to open up like this, to say exactly what was on his mind. She let out a long breath, searching for the right words.

“It’s different,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Different how?” he pressed, his tone gentle but persistent.

She met his gaze, feeling a lump rise in her throat. She hadn’t realised just how much this division had affected them both, how much it lingered in moments like these. “I never felt like I was a part of your world,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “It wasn’t just about you. It was Dad, too. He… he made it clear that I wasn’t cut out to be a part of it. I wasn’t… enough. Not like you.”

He looked at her, the quiet hurt in his eyes turning into something deeper, something sadder. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

She gave him a small, sad smile. “How could you? You were busy making him proud. And you were great at it. I always saw how he looked at you, how proud he was of everything you were doing. He saw you as this… continuation of him, of his legacy. But me… I was never part of that.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he processed her words. “I never wanted it to be that way. I thought you just didn’t care about what we were doing. I thought you were happy doing your own thing.”

“I am,” she said, and she meant it. “Tennis is my world; it’s where I feel strong, where I feel like I belong. But… it didn’t come without sacrifices. I grew up watching you and Dad bond over racing, and it was like there was this door between us that was shut for good. I could watch, but I couldn’t be a part of it.”

There was a long pause, her brother absorbing her words, the weight of years of misunderstanding settling between them.

“I wish I’d known,” he said finally, his voice soft, tinged with regret. “I thought… I thought you didn’t want to be a part of it. I thought it didn’t matter to you if Dad and I had that bond. But I get it now. I see what it must’ve felt like, standing on the outside.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken years filling the space between them. And then he added, “You know, you don’t have to keep yourself hidden to be in my life, right? I get it now. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”

Her throat tightened, a wave of unexpected emotion rising within her. She’d spent so long feeling like an outsider in her own family, so sure that her brother had never noticed. But now, here he was, standing in front of her, wanting to bridge that gap.

“It’s hard to just undo it all,” she admitted. “Sometimes, it feels easier to just… stay on my own path. To keep these things separate.”

He nodded, understanding. “But if you’re thinking of seeing Franco… letting yourself be part of his world… doesn’t it mean you’re ready to be seen? To be yourself, even in places that are unfamiliar?”

She considered this, his words striking a chord deep within her. He wasn’t wrong. She’d spent so long hiding parts of herself, keeping herself separate to avoid comparison or judgement. But with Franco, she hadn’t felt the same need. For once, she had felt like she could be herself—no shadows, no expectations.

“I think… I just want to find something that’s mine,” she said finally. “A space where I’m not just ‘your sister,’ where I don’t have to carry someone else’s legacy.”

Her brother gave her a soft, understanding look. “You’ve already done that. You are more than just my sister. You’ve made a name for yourself that has nothing to do with anyone else. You’re not living in anyone’s shadow… but if you ever want to step into our world—my world—I’d like to be part of yours too. Just… let me be there for you, even if it’s only sometimes.”

She nodded, feeling a sense of warmth, a sense of connection that hadn’t been there before. Maybe there was room for both worlds, after all. For the first time, she felt like she didn’t have to choose.

“I’ll think about it,” she said softly, echoing her words from last night.

He smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes. “I hope you do.”

With that, he gave her a quick, reassuring squeeze on her shoulder, a wordless acknowledgment of the unspoken bond they shared. And as he left, she felt a sense of closure, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from her family’s legacy to be seen as her own person. She could walk her own path, even if it sometimes crossed into theirs.

She arrived at the paddock a little while later, weaving her way through the bustle of race day, her heart beating a little faster than usual. Wearing Franco’s shirt under her blazer felt like a small, bold choice—one that had her both excited and slightly nervous. She walked through the crowd until she reached his team’s garage, where the energy was already crackling with anticipation.

As soon as she stepped in, Franco spotted her from across the garage. His face lit up the second he saw her, and he immediately started making his way toward her. When he was close enough, he lowered his voice and said in Spanish, a playful gleam in his eyes, “Wait here for just a second. Don’t move.”

Before she could respond, he turned and jogged back toward his driver’s room, leaving her standing in the middle of the garage, a little bewildered but smiling to herself. She watched as he disappeared into the room, curious about whatever he was planning. Within a moment, he was back, holding a bouquet of flowers—a mix of deep red roses and bright sunflowers, their colours vivid against the greys and metallics of the garage.

“For you,” he said, handing them over with a grin, his accent warm and lilting. His eyes softened as he added, “To celebrate your first race day as my guest.”

She took the bouquet, feeling a rush of warmth as she held the flowers. “You know, you didn’t have to do this,” she said, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just here as… well, just as me.”

“And I think that’s worth celebrating,” he replied smoothly, his gaze locked on hers with unmistakable admiration. “Besides, you didn’t say no to the shirt, so I think I’m allowed a little celebration, no?”

She laughed, her cheeks warming as she looked down at the bouquet. “Alright, fine. You win. Thank you—they’re beautiful.”

Franco glanced around the garage, then leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a playful murmur. “You know, you’re even more beautiful than I remember from last night. I thought maybe I was exaggerating, but… no. I wasn’t.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Careful, or I’ll start to think you’re trying to distract me from the race.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, chuckling. Then, as if struck by a sudden idea, he looked around the garage again and spotted one of his engineers nearby. Franco gestured to the man, who quickly nodded, understanding exactly what Franco was after.

The engineer handed him a headset, and Franco turned back to her, holding it up. “Here—so you can listen in and watch from inside the garage. You’ll get the best seat here.”

She blinked, surprised by the gesture. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You’ll get to hear all the comms, see how it all works up close. Plus”—he leaned in, his voice low—“you’ll have an excuse to stay around here.”

She shook her head with a smirk, taking the headset from him. “Alright. But only because you’ve convinced me with flowers and shameless flattery.”

“Good,” he replied, his grin widening as he watched her settle the headset over her ears. “I’ll keep it coming if it means you stay.”

As the team began their pre-race preparations, Franco showed her the best spot to watch from, and he took a few moments to explain some of the technical details. She found herself captivated, not just by the race, but by the way he was so eager to share his world with her. His enthusiasm was infectious, and despite herself, she felt the thrill of race day in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Before he had to step away to start his own warm-up routine, he gave her one last look, his gaze holding a touch of that familiar mischievous glint. “Enjoy the show, princesa. And don’t go falling in love with the cars now—they’re not as charming as I am.”

She laughed, giving him a playful shove. “No promises.”

Franco winked, backing away with a grin as he joined the other drivers and team members preparing for the race. She stayed in the garage, feeling the weight of the headset and bouquet in her hands, both of them symbols of the way her world had shifted in just a few days.

As she watched him walk away, his words echoing in her ears, she realised just how different today felt. For the first time, she wasn’t just watching as an outsider; she was here, part of the energy, sharing a moment in his world, just as he’d promised. And maybe—just maybe—she was finally ready to be a part of something new.

The race was intense, the roar of engines filling the air as she watched Franco’s car weave through the track, making his way up from P16 to P12, gaining positions one by one with determined precision. Her heart raced with every turn, every overtake. She’d never felt the thrill of Formula One from this close before, and she found herself completely absorbed, balancing her attention between the live race and the screens in the garage that tracked every driver’s progress.

And then, in the final laps, her eyes moved to another part of the screen—a familiar car that was in the lead. A red car. Her brother was out front, defending his position with expert skill, pushing with everything he had toward the finish line. She held her breath, fingers tightening around the edges of the headset as she watched the seconds count down. When he crossed the finish line in first place, a feeling she hadn’t expected washed over her—pride, pure and radiant, filled her chest. She found herself clapping, cheering, a bright smile spreading across her face.

Franco, having just finished his own race and done the mandatory weigh-in and debrief with his engineers, finally found her in the garage. He looked exhausted but happy, his face still flushed from the adrenaline of the race. When he walked over, he paused, noticing the way her eyes were glued to the screen as her brother celebrated his victory, lifting his fists in the air in triumph.

“You’re glowing,” Franco murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her reaction.

She blinked, glancing back at him and realising how giddy she must look. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would feel like this. I’m just… so happy for him.” Her voice was breathless, filled with a genuine joy she couldn’t hide.

He chuckled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Then you should go to him. He’s probably waiting for you.”

She shook her head, hesitating, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “No, I couldn’t. I don’t… I don’t belong over there, with everyone. That’s his world.”

Franco tilted his head, giving her a knowing look. “Maybe that’s true most days. But today, you belong there just as much as anyone else. He’s your brother. Go celebrate with him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She bit her lip, uncertainty still holding her back. “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“Start with congratulations,” Franco said, flashing her a gentle, reassuring grin. “Trust me, it’ll be enough.”

He gestured toward the edge of the garage, where the barriers separated the track from the paddock. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded, taking a shaky breath as he guided her forward. The crowd around them was roaring with excitement as her brother’s car was pulled into parc fermé, fans and teammates celebrating around him. She could feel her heart pounding, each step filling her with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

At the barrier, Franco gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Go on. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

With that, he released her hand, and she took a step forward, catching sight of her brother through the haze of people and cameras. He was laughing, practically glowing as he embraced his team, still basking in the thrill of his victory. And then, as if sensing her, he turned and saw her standing there, just beyond the barrier.

His expression softened, and a smile broke across his face, one that was filled with surprise and unmistakable happiness. Without a moment’s hesitation, he made his way over, reaching out to pull her into a tight, heartfelt hug. She hugged him back, feeling the last remnants of the old distance between them dissolve as she held her brother close, finally sharing in his moment.

When they pulled apart, he looked at her, pride shining in his eyes. “You came,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet gratitude. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

She laughed softly, tears threatening to sting her eyes. “I wouldn’t have missed it. I’m so proud of you.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a quick, brotherly kiss to her forehead. “Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here. Really.”

As the team around them cheered and the cameras continued to flash, she felt the enormity of the moment—a sense of belonging, not just as a tennis player, or his sister, but as herself.

She grinned at her brother, reaching up to ruffle his hair in a rare show of sibling affection. “Te quiero mucho, hermanito,” she said, her voice filled with warmth and pride. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

His smile softened, and he looked at her with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Te quiero también,” he replied, wrapping her in one last quick hug. “Thank you for being here. Really.”

The moment was brief but profound, a quiet reassurance that, despite the different worlds they had each chosen, they were still connected. He glanced back toward his team, who were waving him over for post-race celebrations and interviews.

“I have to go,” he said, releasing her. “But I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” she replied, giving him a nod and a small wave as he returned to his crew. She watched him for a moment longer, feeling a sense of pride she hadn’t felt in years—one that was entirely unclouded by the complexities of the past. Then she turned and made her way back toward Franco’s garage, her heart still racing from the intense energy of the day.

When she found him, Franco was waiting near the garage entrance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a proud smile lighting up his face as he saw her approach.

“You did it,” he said softly, admiration in his eyes. “You finally let yourself be a part of all this.”

As she reached Franco, he turned to face her, his expression softening with a mixture of pride and relief as he took her hands in his. Her heart pounded, the intensity of the day lingering between them like a magnetic pull. She gazed up at him, her breath catching as she saw the warmth in his eyes—the genuine care and admiration there, as if he saw every part of her that she had worked so hard to keep separate.

Without a word, she stepped closer, her hand moving up to rest gently against his cheek. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze searching hers, as if waiting for her to close the last small gap between them. Finally, she leaned up, closing her eyes as her lips met his in a slow, lingering kiss.

The world around them seemed to dissolve, the roar of the crowd and bustle of the paddock fading as the kiss deepened. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, his touch both steady and tender. She felt the warmth of him seep into her, grounding her in the moment, and she responded instinctively, fingers threading through his hair as he held her tighter. There was a gentleness in his touch, but an undeniable passion too, a desire that built slowly between them.

Time slipped away as they shared this unguarded moment, the boundaries she had set for herself crumbling with every heartbeat. She could feel the strength in his arms, the quiet reassurance he offered, and a warmth that sparked through her, as if he was silently promising that he would be there, no matter what.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing a little harder, their foreheads touching as they lingered close, unwilling to step away. Franco’s thumb traced a gentle line along her jaw as he looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with an affection so deep that it nearly overwhelmed her. “I needed that push,” she murmured against his lips.

His arms came around her, but he laughed as he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Come on,” he said with a teasing glint, “the cameras have probably caught enough kissing for one day.”

She chuckled, letting him lead her back toward the quiet of his garage, away from the noise and eyes of the crowd. For the first time, she felt an undeniable sense of belonging—not just to the world she had worked so hard to create for herself, but to this moment, with him, with her family. She’d finally allowed herself to be part of it all, and it felt right in a way she hadn’t expected.

the end.

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Jazz takes care of a de-aged Danny, and they lay low in Gotham. But just because Danny’s body is younger doesn’t mean his powers have lessened. In fact, they’ve only grown harder to control. Having the energy of a child makes containing his powers harder (just like when he first got them) until they realize that Danny’s powers are much easier to control when he can get rid of some of his excess energy. Jazz hears about a free gym open to all that is also meta-proof (more durable) from a wonderful woman at the library. (Lookin at you Babs)

The gym has a gigantic kids play area, along with classes for all ages and a training area complete with an American Gladiator style obstacle course for adults. Jazz will use the obstacle course sometimes when her boss has fully ticked her off. Stephanie and Cass volunteer there whenever they can. Jason always sends the alley kids there too because it’s close by and a safe place. Dick leads a class there whenever he can.

Dick actually holds the record for the obstacle course. Until Jazz gives it a go after a particularly trying day. She doesn’t realize there’s a record. She never would have used the course if she’d known. Training with Pandora and Fright Knight gave her plenty of advantages with how she can use her liminality and she definitely doesn’t need to stand out.

But again, she doesn’t know there’s a record. Or that someone saw her going repeatedly through the course (Stephanie) and decided to time her on her next go. (She doesn’t film without permission because she’s respectful of boundaries like that) She does post Jazz’s time in the Batfam group chat to take Dick down a couple notches though.

Or someone else (not Batfam, just a random citizen) takes a video of her doing the course and posts it on the internet and now they (Jazz and Danny) have to stay one step ahead of Vlad, the Batfam, their parents, and avoid the GIW. How hard can it be?

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - June 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $Kaybarr1735! And if you tip me and give me a way to contact you, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week!

1. Victory for Same-Sex Marriage in Thailand

“Thailand’s Senate voted 130-4 today to pass a same-sex marriage bill that the lower house had approved by an overwhelming majority in March. This makes Thailand the first country in Southeast Asia, and the second in Asia, to recognize same-sex relationships. […] The Thai Marriage Equality Act […] will come into force 120 days after publication in the Royal Gazette. It will stand as an example of LGBT rights progress across the Asia-Pacific region and the world.”

2. One of world’s rarest cats no longer endangered

“[The Iberian lynx’s] population grew from 62 mature individuals in 2001 to 648 in 2022. While young and mature lynx combined now have an estimated population of more than 2,000, the IUCN reports. The increase is largely thanks to conservation efforts that have focused on increasing the abundance of its main food source - the also endangered wild rabbit, known as European rabbit. Programmes to free hundreds of captive lynxes and restoring scrublands and forests have also played an important role in ensuring the lynx is no longer endangered.”

3. Planning parenthood for incarcerated men

“[M]any incarcerated young men missed [sex-ed] classroom lessons due to truancy or incarceration. Their lack of knowledge about sexual health puts them at a lifelong disadvantage. De La Cruz [a health educator] will guide [incarcerated youths] in lessons about anatomy and pregnancy, birth control and sexually transmitted infections. He also explores healthy relationships and the pitfalls of toxic masculinity. […] Workshops cover healthy relationships, gender and sexuality, and sex trafficking.”

4. Peru puts endemic fog oasis under protection

“Lomas are unique ecosystems relying on marine fog that host rare and endemic plants and animal species. […] The Peruvian government has formally granted conservation status to the 6,449-hectare (16,000-acre) desert oasis site[….] The site, the first of its kind to become protected after more than 15 years of scientific and advocacy efforts, will help scientists understand climatic and marine cycles in the area[, … and] will be protected for future research and exploration for at least three decades.”

5. Religious groups are protecting Pride events — upending the LGBTQ+ vs. faith narrative

“In some cases, de-escalation teams stand as a physical barrier between protesters and event attendees. In other instances, they try to talk with protesters. The goal is generally to keep everyone safe. Leigh was learning that sometimes this didn’t mean acting as security, but doing actual outreach. That might mean making time and space to listen to hate speech. It might mean offering food or water. […] After undergoing Zoom trainings this spring, the members of some 120 faith organizations will fan out across more than 50 Pride events in 16 states to de-escalate the actions of extremist anti-LGBTQ+ hate groups.”

6. 25 years of research shows how to restore damaged rainforest

“For the first time, results from 25 years of work to rehabilitate fire-damaged and heavily logged rainforest are now being presented. The study fills a knowledge gap about the long-term effects of restoration and may become an important guide for future efforts to restore damaged ecosystems.”

7. Audubon and Grassroots Carbon Announce First-of-its-Kind Partnership to Reward Landowners for Improving Habitats for Birds while Building Healthy Soils

“Participating landowners can profit from additional soil carbon storage created through their regenerative land management practices. These practices restore grasslands, improve bird habits, build soil health and drive nature-based soil organic carbon drawdown through the healthy soils of farms and ranches. […] Additionally, regenerative land management practices improve habitats for birds. […] This partnership exemplifies how sustainable practices can drive positive environmental change while providing tangible economic benefits for landowners.”

8. Circular food systems found to dramatically reduce greenhouse gas emissions, require much less agricultural land

“Redesigning the European food system will reduce agricultural land by 44% while dramatically reducing greenhouse gas emissions from agriculture by 70%. This reduction is possible with the current consumption of animal protein. “Moreover, animals are recyclers in the system. They can recycle nutrients from human-inedible parts of the organic waste and by-products in the food system and convert them to valuable animal products," Simon says.”

9. Could Treating Injured Raptors Help Lift a Population? Researchers found the work of rehabbers can have long-lasting benefits

“[“Wildlife professionals”] tend to have a dismissive attitude toward addressing individual animal welfare,” [… but f]or most raptor species, they found, birds released after rehabilitation were about as likely to survive as wild birds. Those released birds can have even broader impacts on the population. Back in the wild, the birds mate and breed, raising hatchlings that grow up to mate and breed, too. When the researchers modeled the effects, they found most species would see at least some population-level benefits from returning raptors to the wild.”

10. Indigenous people in the Amazon are helping to build bridges & save primates

“Working together, the Reconecta Project and the Waimiri-Atroari Indigenous people build bridges that connect the forest canopy over the BR-174 road[….] In the first 10 months of monitoring, eight different species were documented — not only monkeys such as the golden-handed tamarin and the common squirrel monkey (Saimiri sciureus), but also kinkajous (Potos flavus), mouse opossums (Marmosops sp.), and opossums (Didelphis sp.).”

Bonus: A rare maneless zebra was born in the UK

June 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[kalmeria]

…..Aaaanyways. I have played paranoia street 25 times since it came out

[hello-eden]

dead serious #2

 idea that league of Assassins has connections and deals with the ghost Zone/ infinite realms. Ellie gets destabilized and Danny needs help; he ends up going to frostbite and Clockwork. They tell him about the deals that a lot of the ghost Zone has with league of assassins. He panics because of the Assassins but they make it very clear that they can help. Danny is about 14 And Damien is turning 13.( I know Damien is supposed to be with his dad at this point but just go with it) 

Ellie ends up the de Aged and Danny uses an artificial womb thing that Talia uses for Damien. Danny and Damien become friends during this time due to Talia and Ras wanting Damian to have good connections with the infinite realms. 

There's an attack on the league that ends up with Damien getting very hurt in the lab that has Ellie, it affects something and Damien's DNA ends up helping Ellie grow. The DNA helps stabilize her but it also gives her another donor. Damian leaves to train with his father not long after the incident  but he does know there is a chance that she is technically now his kid though it is never confirmed while he is there.

I'm just imagining Damien knows weirdly niche things due to Danny and the bat family is wondering why he knows things like obscure memes or has opinions on fast food.

The bat family has to interact with the League of Assassins and Damien asks his mother how Danny and Ellie are and if the accident caused problems with development. Talia then reveals that his DNA did end up integrating with Ellie and that technically he is the father. He asks if she can get them in contact and he end up able to. When This entire thing happens All the family is fighting for their life and they're in a separate area so no one knows what this conversation is.

 They get into contact and end up meeting up when Damian is on a mission outside of Gotham. Damien leaves Gotham to meet up with them constantly and that pings on his family's radar. They follow him thinking he's taking down some sort of group without backup or he is contacting the league. What they find is not what they expect. 

They Find is Damien talking with Danny cuddling under a tree while Ellie plays with Cujo. They don't realize Ellie is with them at first until Danny calls her over for lunch and she calls Danny and Damian mom and dad. They then proceed to question when Damien became a teen dad.

[acid-ixx]

"how to become a target to the wayne family"

series masterlist

you, depressed and lonely, out of your mind laying on top of your apartment bed after a hard day of juggling multiple minimum wage jobs to pay their rent and dealing with 10 pending assignments:

you: *sighs* wish there's someone out there who loves me enough to take me somewhere far away to a place where i don't have to worry about the crippling weight of capitalism.

you, adding the next phrase to ward off your stalkers: AND I HOPE THOSE PEOPLE AREN'T MY FAMILY WHO ESTRANGED ME! they don't even count.

bruce wayne, "billionaire, not millionaire", popping out of the background as batman ignoring the last statement: your father would like to—

conner, totally not stalking you the entire day whilst planning your marriage despite not meeting you yet, right outside your apartment windows and talking to himself: don't even need to ask twice baby! we're getting married soon and everyone's invited except for your dumbass family!

tim drake, a building away from conner, spotting his best friend by the distance with his binoculars: WHY THE FUCK IS KON THERE, AND WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?!

jason todd, preparing his weapons: he won't be there soon.

dick grayson, already seething in the background: who is HE to talk about MY baby bird who's not even at the right age for marrying yet!

damian wayne, for the first time in his life cooperating with jason, overhearing dick's rambles: do not forget to load it with kryptonite bullets, todd. and add grenades if ever the case the weapon's been compromised.

jason todd, nodding whilst he aims at kon's head: noted, kid.

*cue faint encouragement playing through the intercoms as steph, cass, babs and duke places bets on who could lay the first and the most hits on kon first; the winner can have your favorite jacket as their reward*

steph, with popcorn in her hands: yeah, it's definitely jason, look at him, all ready to mull him to death!

duke, munching on steph's popcorn: you kidding me? the little demon's about to aim his sword at the guy!

cass, whispering under her breath: it's actually dick...

barbara gordon, amused at the forming argument: wrong, all of you, tim's already out his way to de-clone his best friend.

you, unaware of the entire commotion outside of your apartment: *sneezing, from all the times your name gets mentioned* gee, no wonder why rent's abnormally lower this month, the air must've been polluted even more within this area—