#support the female Brazilian team

[laismoura-art]

You know what's funny to me? How Brazil is all about football. Like, we were once The Country of Football.

We take the World Cup seriously! The country literally stops and drops everything for it! The days Brazil played in the World Cup were treated as HOLIDAYS. There were breaks and days off, so people of all ages could watch the games.

And even people like me, who couldn't care less about football, cares for the Cup! I dress yellow/blue during the games, and I cheer on every goal!

Football is in our blood!

And YET! We literally have to BEG for men to watch the Female World Cup! To support and cheer for the girls!

They dare say the Female National Team is "amateur" compared to the Male NT, when we literally have Marta on the female team! The woman is literally one of the best football players in the world! Considered the best SIX TIMES!

The latest Brazilian game was on Monday, and there were no days off. Some schools were kind enough to let the children take a longer break and watch the game. But that's nothing compared to the whole event we make out of the Male World Cup.

And the worst part? We WON! 4x0 victory! And the game was BEAUTIFUL!! And we still get to hear men saying the female Cup is "of less importance", that the game is "boring" and the team is """amateur"""

Every time someone hypes the team up, some entitled man comes acting like he's some expert, starts diminishing and looks down on it, ignoring the effort, the talent, the victory! Because these men just can't stand the thought of women doing what they do and SUCCEEDING on it! They can't stand things not being about them 100% of the time!

I'm just so GRRRRR!

Please support your Female National Team!

Also, fun story: Marta was once named as the best player in a game, and she was gifted freaking HOUSE CLEANING SUPPLIES. From Bombril :)

Men get gifted medals and trophies. Women get house cleaning supplies.

It also happened with a Paraguaian player. She was gifted a kit of pots and pans.

Honestly, f*ck these men!

[ayrtonswnna]

helloo, author-chan! Me again hehe 😊😊

I love how you did my request abt Franco x Senna!reader. I really do, it really shows Ayrton's child-ish character (all thanks to the lord and savior, Gerhard Berger) Hehe.

Anyways, I wanna do another request.

It's for Ayrton himself, but the reader is his childhood friend who's goodbyes from him were like a form of betrayal for her accord and cut ties with him for good when she founds out he got married (which i think you know that his wife and him got divorced but then dated gfs here and there, you'll get my point). UNTIL, she was invited to the paddock in one of the races and she doesn't know he was a F1 driver.

Your plot is your own free will but make it STRAIGHT ANGST to Forgiving at the end, that is if you can ofc. No pressure 😊😊.

Good Luck, Author-chan 😘

ʚɞ a/n: more ayrton content yessss!!!! hey sweetheart, thank you very much!!!!! i am sorry for taking so long to finish your request, but here it is!!

i tried my best to embody your request (and take the challenge) and keep as much as i could of your ideas, added a lot for context and got a bit carried away, but i think it turned out great.

i'm head over heels for angst so here it is!!! hope you like it and thank you for your support!!!!

⠀⠀⠀⠀A LONG TIME COMING 〃 ayrton senna oneshot

ʚɞ ayrton senna x maria de oliveira. (female!oc)

ayrton sees his past right in front of him. a lot has changed.

warnings: ANGST. A LOT OF IT. story takes place in the late 80s/early 90s, it's up to you, author opened wikepedia and chose the first old man in power to be the villain, description of an abusive relationship, character physically and mentally hurt, ayrton saves the day, mention of non-active character death, author in need of therapy (she's picturing dead man as a savior)

Ayrton recognized her the moment he saw her. It wasn’t just her face—it was the memories she brought with her. Childhood afternoons spent running through São Paulo streets, teenage years filled with laughter and long conversations. All of it came rushing back in a heartbeat.

But she had changed.

The tight coils her mother used to braid into intricate hairstyles were now softer curls, looser and more subdued—maybe she straightened her hair sometimes. Gone were the colorful clothes and wide, carefree smiles. In their place were sharp heels, a tailored blazer, and muted tones. It was strange, seeing someone so familiar and yet so different. Could a person change so much and still remain the same?

"Do you know her?"

The question jolted Ayrton from his thoughts. The voice belonged to Jo Ramirez, McLaren’s team coordinator, who was sitting beside him and following his line of sight.

"Who?" Ayrton asked, though he already knew.

"Maria. My girlfriend."

The word hit him like a slap. Girlfriend?

"I��uh—yeah," Ayrton stammered, struggling to keep his tone casual. "Her mom’s Brazilian. Friends with my family. Something like that."

He hesitated before adding, "Isn’t she much younger? Like... twenty-five?"

Twenty-five. Ayrton knew her exact age, knew she’d turn twenty-six on November 3rd. He remembered everything. Her mom from Rio de Janeiro, her dad from England. Their parents’ business ties that had brought them together so often they practically grew up as siblings—until they weren’t anymore.

Until he left.

Jo chuckled, clearly finding the question amusing. "Yeah, something like that. But what’s it to you?"

Ayrton’s lips pressed into a thin line. Jo Ramirez was fifty. Fifty years old. Ayrton thought he knew Maria better than this, thought she’d never go down that road. A man twice her age, with a background so different from hers.

"I mean," Ayrton pressed, "she’s young enough to be your daughter. Don’t you... don’t you find it weird?"

Jo smirked, leaning back in his chair. "No, not at all. That’s the beauty of it. I can put her in her place. However I want to."

The words set off alarm bells in Ayrton’s head, a sinking feeling twisting in his gut. His face must have given him away because Jo laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Relax, man. It’s not what you think. She’s not a kid. And besides," Jo added, his tone turning smug, "you don’t know her anymore. People change."

Ayrton’s gaze shifted back to Maria, standing at the edge of the garage, her expression unreadable. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, her body tense like she didn’t belong there.

Jo’s next words were like knives.

"These girls, man... they’re like having a personal doll. A private paradise. You do what you want, whenever you want. She doesn’t even complain anymore."

Ayrton snapped his head toward him. "What the fuck, Jo? Are you—are you hearing yourself? What the fuck are you even saying?"

Jo just laughed again, as if Ayrton’s reaction was a joke. "Chill out, mate. It’s my girlfriend. None of your business."

But Ayrton couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach. His gaze flicked back to Maria, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met.

Ayrton’s mind raced, trying to process Jo’s callous words. The jovial tone, the dismissive attitude — it all felt too wrong. He couldn't believe that the Maria he once knew, the vibrant and spirited girl who used to run through the streets of São Paulo with him, could be subjected to this kind of treatment.

The words "personal doll" and "private paradise" echoed in his head, making his stomach churn. They didn’t fit with the Maria he remembered. His Maria, full of life and laughter, had been an equal, not someone who could be reduced to such an object.

“I guess you’re right,” Ayrton said, forcing a casual tone, even as every fiber of his being screamed in protest. “People change.”

Jo laughed again, patting Ayrton on the shoulder. “Exactly. Don’t worry about it.”

As soon as Jo turned his attention elsewhere, Ayrton’s eyes found Maria’s once more. She was standing at the edge of the garage, her body tense, her eyes distant. The sight of her made his heart ache. What had happened to her?

Maria had always been so alive, so full of personality. This version of her seemed almost foreign, like a ghost of the woman he used to know.

It wasn’t just the physical changes. Sure, she had grown into herself, but it was more than that. It was in the way she moved, the way her eyes shifted, constantly looking around, searching for something or someone. She was no longer the carefree girl from their shared past.

Maria hadn’t come to the paddock for him, not really. She was here because of Jo, and she had no intention of rekindling old memories. Her posture was stiff, her eyes flicking nervously, never settling. Ayrton felt the weight of that discomfort in his chest. This wasn’t how he imagined seeing her again.

"An elder?" Jo’s voice broke through Ayrton’s thoughts, pulling him back to the moment. The tone was playful, but there was something off about it. He squeezed Maria's side, just like he had when they were teenagers, poking into her space with a familiarity that made Ayrton uncomfortable. "C’mon, Mariazinha, you’re better than that! I can't believe I'm seeing you again. What happened to your hair? You’ve changed so much!"

Maria’s eyes darkened, and her response was cold, detached. "Grew old, I guess."

Ayrton took a small step back, unsure of how to continue. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There should have been more. More warmth, more recognition of the bond they once shared. But instead, there was this distance, this wall.

"Yes, could be it," Ayrton murmured. "How are you? How’s mamãe?" He used the term of endearment without thinking, but immediately regretted it. The word felt too intimate for the way things had turned out.

"Watching from above," Maria answered softly, her voice thick with an emotion Ayrton couldn’t place. She took a step away from him, eyes darting around as if looking for Jo.

Ayrton felt a pang of guilt. "I am so sorry," he said, reaching out to her but pulling back when he saw the way she flinched. "Was it... Was it recent? I passed by your house just last week."

Her eyes were cold now, and it stung. "Seven years ago."

Ayrton’s heart sank. He had missed so much. And Maria had been forced to pick up the pieces of a life that he had left behind.

"So, dad?" Ayrton asked, trying to change the subject, his mind reeling. "Bet you’re in England more these days, with Jo and everything."

Maria nodded, but her expression didn’t soften. "Yeah, I guess."

Ayrton noticed the tension in her shoulders, the way she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. There was something in the air between them, something thick and unresolved. "It’s weird, though," he said, trying to ease the situation. "I would’ve never guessed you’d grow into such a quiet adult. You were always so... vocal."

Maria's lips twitched. "I guess life has a way of changing things."

Her words stung, and Ayrton knew they were aimed at him. He had left her. He had walked away without a second thought. And now, all these years later, he was standing in front of a woman who had learned to live without him.

"You found a wife and left," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "It’s not like you stayed to know what I’d grow into."

Ayrton winced, his own guilt rising up to choke him. "Yeah, I... I deserve that." He ran a hand through his hair. "I made mistakes. But I’m really happy to see you again. Maybe we could catch up, catch up like old times?"

Maria didn't respond immediately, her gaze flicking toward Jo in the distance. She seemed to hesitate before shaking her head. "I don’t think so. You can’t just leave and come back when you feel like it. This is not how it works. I put my life together without you, and I don’t want to go through that again. It’s already too—" She paused, her throat tightening.

"Too what?" Ayrton pressed, his heart racing. "You put your life together with a fifty-year-old man who talks about you like you're a piece of meat? I don’t understand. I don’t think I’m the complicated part in this."

Maria stepped closer to him, her face flushed with frustration. "Aren’t you also fucking young blond women all around? Why is my life suddenly your business? Jo was here for me when you turned your back on me. I don’t care how he talks, or how complicated it is. He was the one who showed up for me when you didn’t."

Ayrton stood there, his mind racing, but all he could focus on was the bruise on her neck. It was dark, swollen, and fresh. Something inside him snapped.

"Maria... What the fuck?" He reached out to touch her, his hand trembling as he took in the full extent of the mark. "Is this ok? What the hell happened?"

Maria flinched as his fingers brushed the bruise, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she tried to cover it up, pulling her blazer back in place and stepping further away from him.

"I’m fine, stop acting like you care," she said, trying to sound convincing. But it didn’t fool Ayrton.

He couldn’t just stand there and pretend everything was fine. He wasn’t blind to what was happening. He wasn’t going to let this go.

But before he could say anything else, Jo appeared, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "Maria, my love. Looks like you’re catching up with your old friend, huh? I bet he wasn’t all that when you met."

Maria didn’t even look at him as she pulled away, muttering a quiet goodbye. "I’m going back to the hotel, alright? Meet me there, baby."

Jo gave a lazy wave, clearly disinterested, before turning his focus back on Ayrton. "Don’t you dare try anything between me and my girlfriend. You’re my driver, and I call the shots. It’s best you keep your distance from her."

Ayrton didn’t say anything. There was no point. Jo had made his stance clear. He just nodded, but inside, his mind was on Maria and the danger she was in.

"Copy."

It's not like anyone is in control of the situation. It's not like Ayrton could just close his eyes and get to sleep. It's past ten, and there’s no sign of sleep.

Facing Maria after so many years brought a scary amount of new things to the table. Things he thought he had buried as time passed and could live with that way.

But no. Just like his first year alone in the UK, right after Lilian, his wife at the time, dropped him saying she couldn’t keep up with this whole career thing. Just like when he caught himself thinking about how things would have been so different with Maria.

They had history, a background. High school lovebirds and childhood inseparable duo.

Ayrton remembered their weekends together, the ones when she was not traveling to her dad's house. The way she was so bad at speaking Portuguese and would always ask him for translations once he learned English. They took classes together throughout their whole childhood. They used to do everything together.

Karting, beach days, countryside days, summer travels. Birds of a feather, inseparable duo. All the shared birthday parties, the shared beds, breakfasts, school rides. High school years, teenage experiences.

It all seems to come back now. The best and the worst.

Because now Maria is hurt. Physically hurt, probably emotionally too. The sweetest girl he once knew is now hidden in layers of clothing and sharp answers.

It's impossible not to think about the what-ifs.

What if he never left her? What if he had proposed she move to the UK with him and not Lilian? She had a family there, maybe it would have worked out. What if he didn’t kiss her in his parent's backyard for one last time?

These are the type of things that keep men up at night, awake enough to go down to the hotel lobby to maybe get some tea and tire themselves out before sleeping.

As Ayrton descended to the hotel lobby, the dim lighting and soft hum of quiet conversations brought a strange sense of calm. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be there, let alone her.

But there she was, sitting on a leather armchair near the bar, staring at a half-empty glass of wine like it held all the answers to her life.

His feet moved before his brain could stop him. "Maria?"

She startled slightly, her eyes snapping up to meet his. For a second, Ayrton saw the girl he used to know—soft, wide-eyed, and vulnerable. But it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by the guarded, distant woman she had become.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice low and tired.

"Couldn’t sleep," he admitted, sliding into the armchair beside her. "And you?"

She scoffed, swirling the wine in her glass. "Guess I couldn’t either."

The silence between them felt heavy, weighed down by years of unresolved feelings and the awkwardness of their earlier conversation. Ayrton couldn’t help but notice how she sat, her posture tense, as if ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

"Maria," he started softly, leaning forward, "I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."

She froze, her fingers tightening around the glass.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Coming from what I saw earlier..." he said carefully, his eyes never leaving hers. "And the way you flinched when I tried to touch you. Maria, you don’t have to pretend with me."

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she looked away, her gaze fixed on the floor. "It’s not what you think."

"It’s exactly what I think," Ayrton said, his tone firm but not unkind. "I’ve known you my whole life, Maria. You don’t have to say it, but I see it. And I know you don’t deserve it."

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "What do you know about what I deserve, Ayrton? You left. You walked away like I was nothing. You don’t get to come back now and act like you care."

"I never stopped caring," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I was stupid, Maria. I made mistakes. But I swear to you, if I’d known—"

"You didn’t," she interrupted, her tone sharp. "You didn’t know because you didn’t stay."

He fell silent, his guilt weighing heavily on him. She had every right to be angry, and he had no defense. But he couldn’t walk away from her again, not now.

"Let me fix it," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever it takes, Maria. Just let me help you."

She looked at him then, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "There's nothing to fix, Ayrton. You can’t undo what’s already been done."

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but I can give you a way out. You don’t have to stay with him. You don’t have to live like this."

Maria swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she set the glass down. "It’s not how it works, Ayrton, this is not-"

"It is," Ayrton insisted. "You just have to trust me."

A few days later, the team had planned an evening out—a casual dinner to celebrate a successful race weekend. Maria had reluctantly agreed to join, knowing Jo would insist on her presence. Ayrton was there too, his eyes never straying far from her.

Throughout the evening, Jo’s behavior was increasingly abrasive. He held her arm tightly when guiding her to their table, his fingers digging into her skin. He interrupted her when she spoke, belittling her opinions with condescending remarks. Ayrton watched it all, his jaw tightening with every interaction.

The breaking point came when Jo grabbed her wrist in the middle of a conversation, yanking her back toward him. "Stop wandering off," he snapped, his tone low but menacing.

Maria winced, her free hand instinctively moving to cover her wrist. That's not much of him—acting that way where everyone could see it. "Jo," she said evenly, her voice trying to stay calm but laced with a tiny sign of desperation. "Not now."

Promptly, her eyes darted to Ayrton, as if something inside knew he'd be looking. And there he was.

The thing is, Maria isn't the only one who noticed that.

Jo smirked, releasing her as if nothing had happened. "Relax, Ayrton. She’s fine."

But Ayrton wasn’t fooled. His eyes locked with Maria’s, silently communicating what words couldn’t. Later, when the group began to disperse, he caught her arm gently, steering her toward a quiet corner of the parking lot.

"You don’t have to go back with him," he said, his voice urgent. "Get in my car. I’ll take you somewhere safe."

She hesitated, her eyes darting around as if expecting Jo to appear out of nowhere. "I can’t just leave. He’ll—"

"I don’t care what he’ll do," Ayrton interrupted. "You’re not staying with him another night, Maria. I won’t let you."

Her lips trembled, tears spilling over as she whispered, "It's not like... It's not like I can just leave."

"It is," Ayrton said, his voice softening. He cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. "But you’re not alone. I’m here, Maria. I’ve got you."

For a moment, she just stared at him, the weight of her fear and pain threatening to consume her. But then she nodded, a small, shaky movement that sealed her decision.

"Okay," she whispered.

Without another word, Ayrton led her to his car, opening the passenger door for her. As they drove away, the city lights fading behind them, Maria felt a strange sense of relief. For the first time in years, she wasn’t running away—she was being saved.

The sound of the sea outside Ayrton’s beach house was a gentle hum, blending seamlessly with the rhythmic clink of a knife against a cutting board. Maria sat across from him in the kitchen, chopping fruit for a simple breakfast. Ayrton, leaning casually against the counter, pretended to be busy with a task, though his eyes kept drifting to her.

There’s no race this weekend, and he felt like they could use a break. She would never deny a good beach weekend, and it only took a flight.

"This is just like old times," she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Except now, you’re actually helping instead of sneaking bites every five minutes."

He grinned, playfully snatching a slice of mango from her plate. "Old habits die hard, don’t they?"

She swatted his hand away, laughing lightly, and for a moment, the heaviness that had lingered between them since that night at the hotel seemed to lift.

"So," he started, his tone deliberately casual, "how did you end up in... all of this? I mean, I know about your mom, but... Jo?"

Her smile faltered, and she set the knife down, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the cutting board. "I left Brazil not long after she passed. It was... too much. The house felt empty, and São Paulo didn’t feel like home anymore. I thought a fresh start would help. Then I moved in with Dad, in London."

Ayrton nodded, his expression softening. "Makes sense. You wanted to escape the memories."

Of course! Here's the complete passage, maintaining the original dialogues:

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy but steady. “Exactly. But I didn’t realize that running away wouldn’t fix anything. Jo came into my life when I was at my weakest. He knew what to say, how to act... At first, it felt like he was saving me. I didn’t see it for what it was until it was too late.”

His jaw tightened, and his hands clenched the edge of the counter. “You deserved so much more than that, Maria.”

She offered a sad smile. “I thought I did too. But by the time I realized who he really was, I didn’t know how to get out.”

There was a long pause, filled only by the distant crash of waves. Ayrton walked around the counter and sat beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. “You don’t have to go through that again,” he said quietly. “Not ever.”

Maria looked at him, her eyes searching his face. “You’ve always been like this, haven’t you? Saying just the right thing to make me feel... safe.”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “It’s a gift. Though I recall you used to say I talked too much.”

She laughed, a genuine sound that made his chest tighten, in the best of ways. “You did. You still do.”

Their laughter faded, leaving a charged silence between them. Ayrton’s hand was on the table, so close to hers that their fingers nearly touched. For a fleeting moment, he thought about closing the gap, about leaning in, about finally—

Maria shifted, clearing her throat and breaking the spell. “We should finish this before the fruit turns to mush.”

Ayrton exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and amusement. “Right. Breakfast. Very important.”

Later, the sun was dipping low over the horizon when they found themselves on the beach. Maria walked ahead of him, her bare feet sinking into the sand, until she reached the water’s edge. She sat where the waves kissed the shore, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

Ayrton stopped a few paces behind her, watching. She always used to do this — sit right where the ocean seemed to meet her. She used to say it made her feel small, but in a good way. Like her problems couldn’t possibly be bigger than the vast sea stretching out before her.

“You’re still doing that,” he said as he sat down beside her.

She glanced at him, her hair tousled by the breeze. “Doing what?”

“Sitting here like this. You’ve always loved the water.”

Maria shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Some things don’t change, I guess.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the sound of the waves filling the space between them. Ayrton shifted closer, his shoulder brushing hers.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and steady, “I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been. But I swear, Maria, I won’t let anything like Jo happen again. Not as long as I’m around.”

She turned to him, her eyes wide and shining with something he couldn’t quite name. “Ayrton...”

He reached up, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. The gesture was so simple, so natural, that it felt like slipping back into something they’d never really left behind. Slowly, he leaned in, their foreheads almost touching.

This time, Maria didn’t pull away. Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, hesitant, yet filled with unspoken promises. When they parted, Ayrton rested his forehead against hers, his hand still lingering near her face.

“Things can change,” he murmured. “We can change.”

Maria smiled, the first real, unguarded smile he’d seen from her in years. “Maybe they can.”

They stayed there, the waves crashing softly around them, as the sun sank below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.

ʚïɞ check my masterlist 〃 drop a request 〃 featuring ayrton! ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2025

[milaeth]

hi!! can i request a mick fic where the reader is a f1 driver for mercedes, maybe she like wins the championship and mick finally confesses to her and its all fluff. they can be the friends to lovers trope. also can the reader be brazilian ( i'm one too so it be soo cool)

thank you so much, i love your writing. sorry for bad english, not my first language

୨୧┊ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄. ( mick schumacher )

✧.* pairings ─ mick schumacher x fem! f1 driver! brazilian! reader

✧.* genre ─ one-shot ⨾ fluff

✧.* summary ─ after you won the championship, you and Mick, your best friend and teammate, finally express your long-held feelings for each other.

✧.* warnings ─ none :)

✧.* mily’s thoughts ─ i’m genuinely so sorry that this took so long! i had my final exams last month and school was literally kicking my ass lmao. the ending is kinda rushed but i hope you guys still enjoy this <3

as the sun set over the captivating race track, the cheers of the spectators grew louder, marking the end of an exciting formula one season. the scent of adrenaline was in the air, electrifying the atmosphere as anticipation reached its peak. among the talented drivers lining up on the grid was you, a brazilian sensation and the first female driver in formula one.

as a mercedes driver, winning the formula one championship was the ultimate goal for you. it had been a long and boring season with many ups and downs, but you had kept going. every race had been a new challenge, and you had to do your best to stay one step ahead of the competition.

finally, after months of grueling competition, the race that would decide the championship had come. this was the moment you had worked so hard for. the race was intense, each lap testing your skills and pushing you to your limits. yet you stayed focused, executed strategic maneuvers and maintained your lead over the other drivers.

when the checkered flag waved, you skillfully drove your mercedes across the finish line to win. the realization of having won the formula one championship immediately flooded over you. you had done it. you were the first female (not to mention brazilian) champion in f1 history, and the jubilation and relief were indescribable. as you stepped onto the podium, surrounded by the cheers of the crowd, you felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.

your heart swelled with pride as you accepted the championship trophy and felt the weight of your accomplishment in your hands. the deafening cheers of the crowd were music to your ears, but your attention was focused on one person — Mick Schumacher.

he was standing in the middle of the crowd, looking at you with unwavering pride and affection, his broad and beaming smile directed only at you. your connection transcended the chaos around the two of you, and it seemed as if time had stopped. at that moment, all you longed for was to fall into his arms and share your triumph with the one person who was always there for you.

Mick, your best friend and reserve driver for mercedes, had been with you through every stage of the season and in life. he gave you unwavering support, encouraged you and believed in your abilities even when everyone, including yourself, doubted you. seeing his presence in the crowd, beaming with pride, filled you with gratitude and joy. and suddenly you felt tears forming in your eyes.

afterwards, you left the podium and rushed toward Mick to hug him. the embrace was a whirlwind of emotions — gratitude, happiness, and the realization that this triumph was not all yours. it was a testament to the unwavering support, dedication and belief of your team, loved ones and fans.

Mick's strong arms wrapped gently but firmly around you as he pressed his face to your neck and held you close. "I'm so, so proud of you," he whispered softly against your ear, "you did it, you proved everyone wrong!" you laughed, and tears of joy ran down your face as the cheers of the crowd still echoed around you. a few more whispered words were exchanged between the two of you, and it really did seem like a dream. everything felt unreal.

the moment ended abruptly, however, when your team came to pick you up to continue the festivities and you found yourself longing for more time with Mick. "i need to talk to you!" you heard him shout after you as one of your engineers and friends led you through the boisterous crowd. as you turned, you caught a glimpse of his cheerful expression, but his eyes conveyed a sense of seriousness that suggested what he wanted to discuss was important.

"we'll talk later, i promise!" you exclaimed, and as you looked back, you noticed him nodding and smiling. your engineer then quickly led you around a corner and to the team's celebration.

∿

the air was filled with laughter, clinking glasses and heartfelt congratulations as you celebrated the victory with your team. you couldn't escape the surreal feeling that surrounded you as you celebrated with your teammates, mechanics and other members of the mercedes family. all the hard work, sacrifice and relentless pursuit of your dreams had culminated in that triumphant moment. the weight of the championship trophy in your hands was a constant reminder that you were now part of formula one history and would forever go down in the annals as the first female and brazilian champion.

you tried to focus on the present moment and enjoy the joyful atmosphere of the team's celebration, but your thoughts kept drifting to Mick, his smile, and the urgency in his voice as he had called out to you.

what could he possibly want to discuss?

the thought piqued your curiosity, prompting you to take a quick glance around the room to spot Mick in the crowd. but to your surprise, he was nowhere to be seen. you quickly figured that he must’ve left the party only a few hours into the celebration, and you wondered where he had disappeared to. could he have returned to the hotel? why did he leave so suddenly? your desire to be alone with him for a moment grew stronger, and you were eager to find out what he wanted to talk about. should you go after him? the only problem was that you had no idea where he had gone.

as you stood there pondering your next move, you decided to ask for advice from someone who might have seen Mick leave. you scanned the room, looking for a familiar face in the sea of happy people. spotting one of your good friends and mercedes teammate, Lewis Hamilton, you made your way through the crowd to him.

"hey, Lewis," you greeted him with a slight sense of urgency in your voice. "did you see where Mick went? he left the party, and i have no idea where he went."

Lewis, noticing the concern on your face, frowned and thought for a moment. "hmm, now that you mention it, i actually saw Mick leave. i think he said he needed some fresh air. maybe he went out on the terrace?"

relief washed over you as you thanked Lewis and quickly headed for the terrace. the cool night breeze brushed your face as you stepped outside and scanned the dimly lit surroundings for any sign of Mick. and there he was, leaning against the railing, his eyes fixed on the starry sky. a mixture of emotions rose within you as you approached him. part of you was worried about his sudden departure, another part of you was happy to finally be able to talk to him alone. you took a deep breath and gently called his name.

"Mick?"

he turned to you, a mixture of surprise and relief evident in his eyes, "i didn't expect you to find me out here." you smiled softly. "well, i couldn't just let you disappear without a word. what's going on, Mick? why did you leave the party so suddenly?"

he sighed, his gaze fixed on the table, then looked up and met your eyes again. "i needed some time alone to collect my thoughts. it's been a whirlwind of emotions, and i wanted to find the right moment to talk to you."

his words hung in the air, their weight reverberating inside you. in that moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world. you took a step forward and gently squeezed his hands to reassure him. "Mick, you can talk to me about anything. i'm here for you, just like you've always been here for me."

a small smile played around his lips as he looked into your eyes, his look a mixture of vulnerability and hope. "i have something important to tell you, something i've held back for far too long," he began in a soft but determined voice.

your heart skipped a beat, hanging on his every word, anticipation rising with every second. he took a deep breath and continued in a sincere voice, "when i saw you reach such a huge milestone tonight, i realized i couldn't hold back any longer."

"hold back? Mick, what do you mean?"

he took a step closer, his voice full of vulnerability. "i've tried to deny these feelings for so long, for fear of risking our friendship. but tonight i realized i can't hide it anymore. i'm in love with you, i always have been. i've had these feelings for you since we became friends, but i've been too shy to tell you. all these years, it's always been you. you were my first love and still are. and in my eyes, you could be so much more than just my friend."

time seemed to slow down as Mick's words sank in, your mind and heart tangled in a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. the world seemed to stand still as you processed his confession. the intensity of his words reverberated in your head and mingled with the pounding of your heart. as you looked into Mick's eyes, you realized the depth of his feelings, the unspoken connection that had blossomed between you over the years. the weight of his words settled in your heart, and you felt your own feelings surge forward and intertwine with his.

you could no longer hold back your feelings and stepped closer to Mick, your voice full of honesty and vulnerability. "Mick, i... i felt something, too. something deeper than friendship. seeing you by my side, supporting me through thick and thin, made me realize that you've become such an important part of my life. i really like you, and i think i could easily fall in love with you over time."

a mixture of relief and joy streamed across Mick's face as he gently took your hands in his and intertwined his fingers with yours. in that moment, the world around you blurred, and all that mattered was the connection you had with each other. "i never want to keep you from anything, but i couldn't bear to hide these feelings any longer. whatever happens next, i want you to know that i'm here for you no matter what."

as he cupped your face with his warm hands, his gaze met yours, searching for the slightest sign of hesitation. but there was none to be found. you closed your eyes and surrendered to the moment, and he pulled you closer, his lips delicately brushing yours. the kiss was tender and filled with a depth of feeling that stirred your soul. each touch of his lips triggered a wave of excitement in you, and your heart raced in response. in that embrace, he kissed you as if the world would fade away, as if nothing else mattered but the connection you had with each other. in his arms you felt a deep sense of security, love and admiration. it was a moment etched in your memory, an experience of passion and intimacy that you would never forget.

don’t forget to like, comment & reblog (it’s very much appreciated <3).

© milaeth | 2023

[dreamonseems]

Hiiii, I love your writing, it's so cuteee.

Would you mind writing something with Erling where reader is one of the other Mancity players' sister or a rival team player's sister please??

With potential fights between this bunch of idiotic dudes 🫣

Whether you want to make it smutty or not, as you wish <3

Venha Aqui (Come Here)

Erling Haaland X Female Reader

Richarlison X Sister Reader

Summary: Your Richarlison sister and you came to England to study. you fall in love with Erling, and your brother isn't too happy about it.

If this is bad, I'm sorry 🙈 I think I over thought it too much, lol

Ok, I love Richarlison, but I feel like he's in a team that doesn't appreciate what he can as a player. So I hope he leaves Tottenham and finds clubs that give him time.

Ok, so like I loved this request. I'm Brazilian, so I chose one of my favorite players, Richalison. Also, because I don't know what race people who are reading this are and Brazil is such a diverse country with so many different mixes/races of people, I thought this would be the best option but you can imagineyourselfbeing the half sister. For example, my siblings and I are mixed with black, white, and native but we all came out looking different. My brother and I both looks black, and my sister came out fully white with green eyes. She doesn't even look like she has a touch of black in her. I just wanted everyone to feel included. So anyways, there is my little history lesson, lol

Yes, it's been a few weeks since Y/N arrived in England and she's settled in quite nicely. She's loving all her classes, soaking up new knowledge and enjoying the experience of learning in a different country. And, to top it all off, she's made some new friends who have welcomed her with open arms.

But the best part? Y/N gets to live with her older brother, who she missed terribly. It's been a while since they've been able to spend time together, and now they're able to catch up on lost time. It's a relief to have him nearby, especially in a foreign country where everything is still unfamiliar.

But, as with anything in life, there are downsides. Y/N's brother can be overprotective at times, particularly when it comes to boys. It's a little frustrating, but deep down she knows that he only has her best interests at heart. After all, he's always been there for her, even when they were kids. He's always looked out for her and taken care of her, so it's no surprise that he's still doing it now.

Despite the occasional annoyances, Y/N wouldn't have it any other way. She knows that she's lucky to have a brother who cares so much about her, and she's grateful for his support. Living with him has made her feel safer, happier, and more at home.

Today was the day that Y/N had been eagerly anticipating for weeks. She was finally going to watch her beloved brother, Richarlison, play in a football match against Manchester City. The excitement coursing through her veins was palpable, as she was looking forward to witnessing firsthand the immense talent that her brother possessed.

This was the first time that Y/N would be watching her brother play in England, and she was beyond excited to see him in action. She had heard so much about the electric atmosphere of English football matches, and she couldn't wait to experience it for herself.

Not only would Y/N be able to watch Richarlison play, but she was also excited to meet his team members. The thought of spending time with her brother and his colleagues was thrilling, and she couldn't wait to get to know them all better.

Above all, Y/N was excited to spend a fun-filled night partying it up with her favorite person in the world - her brother. Richarlison had promised her that he would win this match and take her out to enjoy the city after the game. The thought of having an amazing time exploring the city with her brother made her heart race with excitement.

Y/N took her seat, her heart racing, as she eagerly waited for the game to start. As the players began to come out onto the field, she couldn't help but be transfixed by the towering figure of one particular player. It was Erling Haaland, and he stood head and shoulders above everyone else on the field, even towering over her own brother, Richarlison, who was no small man at 6'0.

Although she had heard people talking about Haaland's skills on the field, Y/N had never really paid much attention. She was a loyal fan of her brother, and in her eyes, he was the best footballer out there. But as she watched Haaland move across the field, there was no denying the incredible athleticism and power he possessed.

And it wasn't just his skills on the field that caught Y/N's attention. There was something undeniably attractive about the Norwegian footballer that she just couldn't take her eyes off of. It was as if he had a magnetism about him, drawing her in and captivating her with every move he made.

Despite her loyalty to her brother, Y/N found herself unable to look away from Haaland. She was mesmerized by his talent, his power, and his undeniable allure. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be in the presence of such a force, to feel his energy and his strength up close.

Y/N knew that she would always be a fan of Richarlison, but in that moment, she couldn't deny the power of Haaland's presence. He had captured her attention and held it tightly, leaving her breathless with admiration.

As the game developed, the tension on the field was palpable. Y/N's heart raced with anticipation as she watched the players battle it out, each team fighting fiercely for victory. And then, like a burst of lightning on a stormy night, Richarlison soared through the air and scored a beautiful header goal, giving Tottenham their second goal of the night. The stadium erupted in cheers, the crowd on its feet, as they celebrated his skill and talent.

But Tottenham's celebration was short-lived. As if from out of nowhere, Haaland came charging onto the field, a force to be reckoned with. He scored his second goal of the night for Manchester City, tying up the game and leaving Tottenham reeling from the blow.

Y/N's heart sank as she watched Manchester City's players celebrate, their joy and energy a stark contrast to the disappointment and frustration that permeated the Tottenham team. But just when it seemed like all hope was lost, Richarlison rose to the challenge once again.

With the clock ticking down, and the first half drawing to a close, Richarlison seized the moment and scored another goal, giving Tottenham the lead once again. The stadium roared with excitement, the crowd on their feet, as they cheered on their team.

As the players headed off the field for halftime, Y/N was looking forward to what was to come in the second half.

As the second half began, Y/N braced herself for the action. She knew that Manchester City was a fierce opponent and that they were not going to go down without a fight. But what she witnessed on the field was beyond anything she could have imagined.

Within minutes of the second half starting, Manchester City had scored yet another goal. Haaland, with his incredible speed and skill, had scored yet another goal, securing a hat-trick for the night. The temperature on the field was rising, the players becoming more and more aggressive with each other.

Suddenly, it all erupted into chaos. Richarlison and Haaland became entangled with one another, their tempers flaring and their fists flying. The other players quickly joined in, yelling and screaming at each other, until the referee finally managed to restore order.

Despite the chaos and the aggression, Tottenham refused to back down. With each passing minute, they fought harder and harder, their determination to win stronger than ever before. And then, finally, the moment they had been waiting for arrived.

With just a few minutes left in the game, Tottenham scored yet another goal, tying up the game once again.

But Tottenham was not content with a tie. With everything on the line, they pushed harder and harder, until finally, with just minutes left on the clock, Son scored one more goal, sealing Tottenham as the winners of today's match.

Y/N could hardly believe what she had witnessed. It had been a rollercoaster of a game, filled with drama, excitement, and raw emotion. But in the end, it was Tottenham who emerged victorious, their skill and determination shining through in every moment of the game. And as Y/N watched her brother celebrate with his teammates, she felt a rush of pride and joy, knowing that she was witnessing the birth of a legend.

-------------

After the game, as promised, Richarlison took Y/N out to celebrate. They decided to join some of the players at a nearby club to continue the festivities. Y/N was having the time of her life, dancing and laughing with her brother and his teammates. The energy in the room was electric, with everyone still buzzing from the drama of the game.

As Y/N made her way to the bar to get another drink, she suddenly stumbled over someone's feet, her clumsy nature getting the best of her once again. Just as she was about to hit the floor, someone caught her, saving her from an embarrassing fall. As she looked up, she found herself face to face with the one and only Erling Haaland.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she gazed into his piercing blue eyes. He was even more attractive up close, with his chiseled features and athletic build. She tried to compose herself, but found it difficult to speak in his presence.

Haaland, on the other hand, was surprisingly friendly and charming. He asked her if she was okay and even joked about her being clumsy, making her feel at ease.

"Here, let me buy you a drink," Erling said with a smirk, gesturing towards the bar. Y/N was momentarily taken aback, but she accepted his offer and followed him to the bar. The bartender placed their drinks in front of them, and Erling turned to Y/N.

"I'm Erling Haaland, and you are?" he asked, extending his hand.

"I know who you are. I'm Y/N," she replied, taking a sip of her drink. They continued to chat and laugh, enjoying each other's company.

"You lost the game today," Y/N remarked casually, taking another sip of her drink. Erling choked on his drink, surprised by her straightforwardness.

"Wow, you're straight forward. Yeah, we lost today, but I still got three goals. I can still celebrate that, can't I?" he said, smiling. Y/N giggled and nodded, agreeing with him.

"You have a beautiful smile," Erling said. But just as their conversation was heating up, Y/N's brother appeared, and everything came to a screeching halt. His voice boomed through the club as he called out her name, causing Erling and Y/N to stop and stare.

"You two know each other?" Erling asked, confusion etched on his face.

"H-he's my brother," Y/N stammered, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable. Richarlison's face was twisted in anger as he spoke again, this time in Portuguese.

"Venha aqui(come here)," he commanded, beckoning Y/N to come with him. She sighed, knowing she had to obey, and said goodbye to Erling before leaving with her overprotective brother.

As they drove home, the tension in the car grew by the minute. Y/N could sense her brother's frustration and anger radiating off of him like heat waves. "I don't want you anywhere near that guy," Richarlison growled, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Y/N was taken aback by her brother's sudden outburst. "What's your issue?" she asked, bewildered. "Is it because you guys got into a fight on the field?"

Richarlison's eyes flicked to her briefly before returning to the road ahead. "It's not just that," he said gruffly. "Haaland is trouble, Y/N. He's not good for you."

"But he seemed nice enough," Y/N protested. "And we only talked for a little while."

"That's not the point," Richarlison snapped. "I don't want you getting involved with him or any other footballers, for that matter. They're all just distractions."

Y/N sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest. She knew her brother meant well, but she couldn't help feeling frustrated by his overprotectiveness. "I can take care of myself, you know," she muttered.

Y/N couldn't believe what she was hearing. She knew her brother was overprotective, but this was too much. "You can't control my life, Richarlison. I'm an adult, and I can make my own decisions."

"Of course, I can't control your life," he said, calming down a bit. "But I can advise you as your older brother. And I'm advising you to stay away from him."

She signs."In other words, you're actually saying yes Y/N you will obey me. Because I'm your older brother and you live with me. so my rules go, I know how you work, Richarlison, " she said, annoyed, imatating his voice.

Richarlison didn't reply, his jaw clenched tightly as he navigated the dark, winding roads that led back to their flat. Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to change his mind about Haaland, but she couldn't help feeling a twinge of curiosity about the handsome footballer. Maybe she would run into him again someday, she thought wistfully.

As they arrived home, Y/N stormed off, slamming the door behind her. She knew she might be acting childish. But she didn't care. She couldn't help but still feel frustrated from the argument with her Richarlison.

As she changed into her pajamas. She couldn't believe Richarlison was being so overprotective over her, and she didn't think it was fair that he was trying to control who she talked to. As she got into bed, her phone buzzed with a notification from Instagram.

She saw that Erling Haaland had followed her. He also sent her a message asking her out on a date. Her heart skipped a beat as she read the message, feeling a mix of joy and nervousness. She quickly replied, thanking him for the offer and saying she would love to go out with him sometime.

Despite her brother's disapproval, Y/N couldn't help but feel drawn to Erling. She knew she would have to be careful not to upset Richarlison, but she couldn't ignore the fluttering in her stomach at the thought of going out with the talented footballer. She drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Erling Haaland swirling in her mind.

------------

Y/N's date with Erling Haaland had been incredible. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man - charming, funny, caring, and hardworking. He was a total gentleman and made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. As they went on more dates, Y/N started to realize that she was falling for him, and two months later, they were practically dating.

But there was a big problem - Y/N had been keeping her relationship with Erling a secret from Richarlison. She was scared of what he might do when he found out, and the thought of him finding out made her anxious.

Y/N knew that Richarlison had a strong disliking towards her dating Erling or any other footballers, and he had made it clear that he didn't want her to get involved with them. But she couldn't help the way she felt, and she didn't want to lose the person who had brought her so much happiness.

As she lay in bed that night cuddled up to Erling, she couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt and anxiety. She knew she had to tell Richarlison eventually, but the thought of how he might react kept her up at night. Y/N didn't want to lose her brother's trust and respect, but she also didn't want to give up the person who made her feel so happy and fulfilled.

-------------

Y/N couldn't believe what had just happened. This was definitely not how she had wanted her brother, Richarlison, to find out. She had thought she had the house all to herself, with Richarlison supposedly at a friend's birthday party until tomorrow. It was perfect timing, as Erling was free to come over. One thing had led to another, and their evening activities had ended up in her bedroom.

"Fuck, you drive me crazy," Erling grunted as he slipped his shirt off. Y/N pulled him towards her, and their lips met in a passionate embrace. Victoria tasted the sweetness of the wine he had been drinking as Erling's tongue explored her mouth. Their hands were everywhere, wandering around each other's bodies. Erling's hand found her bra strap, and as he was about to remove it, the door suddenly opened, and there stood Richarlison.

As Richarlison saw what was happening, he quickly closed the door. Y/N and Erling were startled, and the moment the door opened, Erling went straight to cover both of them. "Fuck," Y/N exclaimed, scared for what was about to happen. Outside the room, Richarlison was banging on the door, demanding them to get dressed and get out right away.

Y/N's heart was racing with fear and embarrassment as she quickly scrambled to get dressed, with Erling by her side. She opened the door. "What are you doing here?" she asked him, puzzled.

"What am I doing here? It's my home!" Richarlison yelled at her, his voice filled with anger and frustration.

Erling stepped in, straightening himself and displaying his full height. "Hey, calm down," he said to Richarlison. "You stay out of it," Richarlison responded, turning his attention back to Y/N.

"I forgot the gift for the party so I came back to get it, and I came to ask you again if you were sure you didn't want to come with me to the party. But to my surprise, you were having your own party!" Richarlison yelled at Y/N, clearly upset.

Erling pulled Y/N behind him and stepped close to Richarlison. "If we are going to have this conversation, don't yell at her," Eriling yelled back at Richarlison.

"She's my sister! We yell at each other all the time. Who are you to tell me what to do?" Richarlison responded, his voice still raised.

"I'm just saying this isn't Y/N's fault. It's yours. She would have told you we were dating, but she was too afraid of what your reaction would be," Eriling said.

"Dating! My fault! It's your fault!" Richarlison shouted, pushing Eriling.

"Yes, it's your fault," Eriling said, pushing him back.

"You want to fight? Fine!" Richarlison said, grabbing a handful of Eriling's shirt.

"Why not?" Eriling said, pushing Richarlison again.

Y/N screamed at them to stop. Both men turned to look at her and saw tears streaming down her face. "Just stop both of you! I'm sick and tired of this who-has-the-bigger-dick competition!" she shouted at them, her voice shaking with anger and frustration.

Both men reacted at the same time, stepping in to comfort her. "Y/N," Richarlison said, calling her by her name. "Baby," Eriling said, using a term of endearment.

Y/N stepped back from both men, turning to face Richarlison. "Just stop, Richarlison! I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I knew you would act like this. And I don't understand why, when I'm an adult, I can do what I want. Erling is good to me. If you love me and respect me as your sister, you will try to get to know Erling, or at least tolerate him for me," she said firmly.

She then turned to Erling and said, "Erling, I'm completely falling for you. If you truly like me, you'll do the same. You both need to put your differences aside if you love me because I am not choosing one over the other."

With that, Y/N walked away, leaving both men standing there, completely baffled by what had just happened.

Richarlison and Erling stood there in silence for a few moments, processing what had just happened. Eventually, Erling spoke up.

"I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to cause trouble between you and your sister. I really care about her."

Richarlison let out a deep sigh. "I know, and I'm sorry too. I just... I don't want my sister to get hurt, you know?"

Erling nodded. "I understand. But you have to trust her to make her own decisions and trust that she knows what's best for her. And I can definitely assure you that I'm very serious about her this is not a game for me."

Richarlison thought for a moment. "You're right. I guess I just need to get to know you better and give you a chance. I trust my sister, and if she sees something in you, then she must be right."

Erling smiled. "I'd like that."

Richarlison gets serious again and says, "But if you hurt her, we'll be having a different conversation!"

Erling shakes his head. "I understand." He says.

They shake hands, and Y/N cames back into the room. "So, are we good?" she asked, looking at both of them.

Richarlison nodded. "Yeah, we're good. I'll try to be more understanding."

Y/N smiled. "Thank you. And Erling, are you okay?"

Erling nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just want to make things right between us."

Y/N smiled at him. "I know you will. I trust you." Y/N gave them both a hug.

She felt relieved that things were starting to work out. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she was willing to work at it if it meant she could be with the person she loved.

As they all settled down on the couch, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the two men in her life. They were both flawed, but they were also both willing to put their differences aside for her. And in that moment, that was all that mattered.

[foot-tea]

what do you think about richarlison?

i know he’s dating with amandinha but like isn’t it weird? he’s 26 years old and amandinha is newly 20? Also what do you think about him? (about before his relationship and following entire female population lol)

Overall a very good guyoff the field. He has spoken about mental health problems and even donates 10% of his salary to underprivileged background people and he is much better than his fascist right wing Bolsonaro supporting team. His followings are a bit of a red flag 🚩🚩. Boy follows all influencers and a lot of them are bikini models and are usually in their early20s and full of plastic surgery like it is not even funny 💀💀. His gf is very young though(attached photos). Their hard launch was so hilarious with the chicken egg thing 🤣🤣Idk about plastic surgery and all but she seems very pretty. She is a brazilian influencer. Must have dmed her like most footballers do 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️. I am sorry I do not have much info, Brazilian gossip is very good but it is all in portugese which I do not speak 💔💔💔

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Women's World Cup: flexible working hours for Brazilian civil servants to support the female national soccer team

The Brazilian government has announced civil servants can turn up to work four hours late when the national side – who go by the nickname As Canarinhas [The Little Female Canaries] — contests the Women's World Cup tournament, co-hosted by Australia and New Zealand.

“On days when the games are held at 8am, the working hours will start at 12pm Brasilia time,” Brazil's Minister of Management and Innovation in Public Services Esther Dweck said.

“On days when the games are held at 7am, the working hours will start at 11am Brasilia time.”

When Brazil plays Panama in its World Cup opener in Adelaide at 9pm AEST on Monday, it will be 8:30am in Rio de Janeiro.

Continue reading.

[ezrawip]

› soraya m. da luz.

32.

she/her female.

brazilian.

ex-police officer, ex-valkyrie trainee, bodyguard.

👾

PLEIADES.

“ make sure to land a hit, will you? ”

Pleiades' abilities focus on a more defensive perspective as a Support character. By using her medium range bayonet rifle, she manages to keep enemies at bay, giving her time to heal the team. With her Medical Shot, Pleiades heals a large amount of HP at once, able to use it again after a short cooldown. She also counts with a propulsive jetpack, that paired with her low gravity boots, allows her to soar gracefully for a few seconds. From her Valkyrie training to her time serving as police, she balances the knowledge of saving and fighting, not stepping aside when others need help.

ex-overwatch member and mercy's student. eats too many candies for her own good.

#throwbackthursday

BACKSTORY.

› was a police officer

› joined overwatch to help, became mercy's pupil

› was kicked out of her teachings shortly after retribution

› fled to korea after overwatch's fall

› became d.va's bodyguard

› saw her invitation to OW and decided to try again

› realized she still can't talk to genji like a normal person

› .... sighs.

RELATIONSHIPS.

genji shimada as: glance stealer and awkward talker

lúcio dos santos as: fellow brazilian and bestfriend

cole cassidy as: annoying friend with no filter

angela ziegler as: (lovingly) disapproving mentor

hana song as: famous streamer with a bodyguard

kiriko kamori as: font of embarrassing childhood stories

vivian chase as: mother figure of 20

& more!

_____________________________ !

links.

‹ pinterest board pleiades ›

ezrawip. © 2024

[aaroncutler]

Sessão Mutual Films: Elek / Mészáros: Cronistas húngaras [Mutual Films Session: Elek / Mészáros: Hungarian Chroniclers]

July 17th: The link above leads to Portuguese-language information about the 24th edition of the Mutual Films Session, co-curated and organized by me and Mariana Shellard, whose screenings will take place between July 17th and 27th at the São Paulo-based unit of the Instituto Moreira Salles and on July 27th at the Instituto’s unit in Poços de Caldas.

The event places into dialogue four early works from two extraordinary voices of Hungarian and world cinema. Márta Mészáros (born in 1931) is a prolific author of searing dramas that poignantly explore the profundities of solitude, oftentimes through stories of young women striving both to survive and to define themselves in relation to harsh surroundings. Judit Elek (born in 1937) is the maker of myriad documentary and fiction portraits of isolated members of her society who are presented both with great compassion and with social criticism.

Mészáros’s work has had a critical renaissance in recent years thanks to a large-scale restoration project of her films undertaken by the Hungarian National Film Archive – a project which was originally set to premiere in retrospective form at the Bergamo Film Meeting, pre-pandemic, and which has toured the world in rousingly successful fashion since then, both at physical festivals and virtually. The Archive has also more recently realized a large-scale restoration project devoted to Elek’s filmography, which premiered in 2023 within an expansive retrospective of Elek's films at the Rotterdam International Film Festival (IFFR).

The two filmmakers hold evident similarities (among these gender, nationality, and multiple collaborators in common), while displaying tremendous differences between them in terms of interests and aesthetic approaches. The selection of works that will screen at the Instituto already gives a sense of this with one short and one feature-length film from each director. One program pairs Elek’s first completed solo film, 1963’s Encounter, with Mészáros’s first feature (and the first feature directed by a woman in Hungary since before the Second World War), 1968’s The Girl. The other program pairs one of Mészáros’s most strikingly humanist short films, 1964’s Blow-Ball, with Elek’s first feature, 1969’s The Lady of Constantinople. Each artist would realize several great films in the years following these works – what will screen is just a sample from their long-lasting careers.   

The screening on July 18th in São Paulo will be followed by a talkback with the programmers and cultural producers Maria Vragova (responsible for the organization of a recent film series in the Brazilian city of Curitiba devoted to the work of Eastern European women filmmakers, as well as numerous other film series and visual art exhibitions through the production company Ars et Vita) and Nayla Guerra (an employee of the Cinemateca Brasileira/Brazilian Cinematheque, as well as the author of a recently published book that surveys the production of short films directed by female filmmakers in Brazil during the years of the country’s most recent military dictatorship). The first of the two screenings in Poços de Caldas on July 27th will be followed by a talkback with the locally based filmmaker, photographer, and pedagogue Dani Alvisi. Both screenings with talkbacks have free admission, while the series’s other screenings have ticket prices of 10 Brazilian reais full price and 5 Brazilian reais half-price.

This edition of the Mutual Films Session is realized with the special support of two entities. One is the Consulate-General of Hungary in São Paulo, which has provided aid to the Mutual Films Session for the second time, with the first being our screenings in 2019 of Miklós Janscó’s Red Psalm (a film also restored by the extraordinary team of the Hungarian National Film Archive). The other is the Brazilian online platform and theatrical distributor FILMICCA, whose streaming catalogue includes a collection of twelve restored films directed by Mészáros, as well as a number of other restored classics held by archives and small distributors.

We were fortunate to be able to translate into Portuguese two supplements for the series section on the Mutual Films website. One is a selection of interviews with Márta Mészáros which were originally published in English in the American scholar Catherine Portuges's crucial 1993 book about the filmmaker, Screen Memories: The Hungarian Cinema of Márta Mészáros, and whose translation appears with Portuges's consent. The other is a translation of a piece of a conversation originally published in Hungarian in 2006 between Judit Elek and her then-husband, the late filmmaker Zsolt Kézdi-Kovács, which was initially held for his documentary film about the Hungarian Revolution called That Day Was Ours and which appears in English in the book Judit Elek - The Lady From Budapest (co-organized by Gyöngyi Fazekas, Olaf Möller, and Barbara Wurm on behalf of the IFFR, which published the book in 2023 to accompany its retrospective). This text appears in Portuguese with the permission of the IFFR's communications team (led by Anne Wabeke) and of Judit Elek.

The series is dedicated to the memory of the Brazilian journalist and translator of Hungarian descent Edith Elek (no relation to Judit) – who passed away in November of last year – as well as some important figures from Hungarian film history who have also perished during the past few years. And, in addition to the series thanks that are listed on the Mutual Films website and in the Instituto Moreira Salles’s monthly film program booklet, I myself wish to thank two individuals. One is the vital Brazilian film programmer Carla Italiano, whose conversations with me about Márta Mészáros’s work have enriched my understanding of its importance. The other is Ava Shellard-Cutler, who turned one year old on July 9th, and whose felicity continues to inspire me and Mariana in very much of what we do.  

[demonsfate]

I feel like Tekken 4 having Heihachi be the final boss again was because that game was trying to back to being normal-ish, thus Orge and everything Devil is only mentioned, and in the case of the Devils, only seen in Kazuya and Jin's arcade endings.

And with the roster, were it me, I'd have Anna, Bruce, Gun Jack, and Kunimitsu be part of the returning cast, since I think the game would only need one more column to have it feel fuller to where the random select icon is in the middle, and out of them (except Anna who I'd have from the start to fully switch the roles with Nina of who gets unlocked), one could be an extra unlockable to make up for shifting the random select icon to the middle as it'd be a 5X5 box instead.

Granted I don't think there's much to go with in terms of known concept art and the unused names like Sugar McGregor, with the only one we have some idea behind is Dean Earwicker as the original name for Steve before they changed it, so I can't just say "new character here too".

As for Bosconovitch in Tag Tournament, I assume him and Dr. Abel were going to share a slot like Angel/Devil and Alex/Roger, and play the same but adjusted since "the lying down on the floor or only ducking when stood up before falling" gimmick of Bosconovitch would have been annoying to Arcade players who didn't get it, but I imagine they were cut because Dr. Abel had no reason to fight where Bosconovitch was just a joke playable initially, and because Dr. B's combat data was never in the arcade version of Tekken 3 which Tag 1 was based on, so he got cut because the time needed to implement him.

Though I would have loved if the PS2 version included him and the Tekken Fighters, but Tag 1 as a whole is weird anyway given they use the Tekken 1 & 2 Nina/Anna voice for Angel when she got a unique voice for the PS1 release of Tekken 2, thus my theory of not having the stuff to implement console stuff into an updated arcade release.

That cooooould be true considering Tek4 was doing a few New Things. (Such as the terrain being at different levels). Buuuut... Tekken 1 was really the only "normal-ish" one with a Normal Boss. Tekken 2, we immediately get a devil as the last boss, who we can play as along with an angel. I believe the team said they threw in bears and devils because they wanted to be "fun" and differentiate themselves from Virtua Fighter. So, having zany characters and bosses feels a bit more established for the IP. Buuuuuuuut. Also considering how all of Tek4's levels were very grounded in reality, that also supports the idea that they just wanted a "normal" boss for the game. But as I've pointed out, the exclusion of mainstays like Anna, Jack, and Armor King also feels like they're evidence that something happened during development - either budget or time restraint issues. So who really knows about that... it's why I'd like to learn more about the development process! The Cutting Room Floor doesn't have much info on the games even when compared to the Sims console games, which have a lot more interesting stuff on the pages.

All the websites I've visited cited Sugar as Steve's original name. As well as one being "Ryan Lewis," which was for Steve, too. WHICH I would've found to be funny given Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. Just how there are two other very Brazilian female names, which were pretty evident they were Christie's original names, too. And Violent who was gonna be called Benjamin for some reason...?

Yeah, that makes sense. But regardless, it would've been interesting to see other nonfighter characters like Dr. B, Abel, Sebastian, and Jane all be in the roster of a future Tag game. Of course, modern fighting games rarely have huge rosters anymore due to the strain of them. (Making sure every character is balanced and fun to play as, etc) But would've been fun to see just a Tag roster that's JAM PACKED with characters! Even if some would've been silly, It would've been entertaining regardless!

[aboutanimation]

VERIFIED | Xika vs the Disinformation | Short Film | English from Clubcamping on Vimeo.

After the pandemic, our studio, Clubcamping, felt compelled to create a signature short with a Latin American flair, addressing the pressing issue of disinformation in our 'post post-truth' age. As we navigated through a sea of information, our narrative began taking shape, emphasizing the distorted effects of disinformation. With our team being 90% female, our heroine naturally emerged as a young girl, standing as a symbol of truth amidst a landscape of deception.

Our creative challenge was twofold: depict the transformative power of disinformation without causing offense, and design characters representative of the disinformation crisis. This task became smoother when @veroinstituto in Brazil partnered with us, integrating our short into their larger campaign against disinformation in Latin America.

In collaboration with @veroinstituto, we expanded our narrative universe, spotlighting the dangers of manipulated truths. We're excited to share more about our journey and the broader campaign. To support and learn more, visit vero.org.br/verificables and for a behind-the-scenes look, explore our Behance page.

CREDIT LIST: Directed by Clubcamping Creative direction: Mariano Fernández Russo EP: Ana Sieglitz & Juliana Millán Script: Carolina Cantero, Alan Pettersen, Ana Sieglitz & Mariano Fernández Russo Lead Production: Ana Laura Aparicio Production Assistant: Alan Pettersen Animation Direction: Pablo Cuello Animatic: Mariano Fernández Russo Art Direction: Martín Vinograd Art Lead: Juan Barabani Color: Nahuel Ruiz Illustration: Juan Barabani, Martín Vinograd and Ramiro Cabrera. Layouts: Evelin Unfer & Constanza Oroza 2D Animation: Nicolas Piccirilli, Alejandro Briganti, Franco Pelliciaro, Magui Barone & Maricel Piazza Clean up: Sofia Diaz, Alan Mohamed, Mercedes Di Santis, Celina Pavon, Gabriel Rocha & Adele Baquiast Compositing & Motion Animation: Mariano Fernández Russo & Gabriel Rocha Additional Compositing: Yago Lopez Graphic Design: Adriana Matallana

Sound Music and Sound Design: Facundo Capece & Felipe Barandalla Sound Producer: Alan Pettersen VO: Julieta Nieto & Ademara

Partner: INSTITUTO VERO Project Coordinator: Victor Vicente Partnership Coordinator: Victor Durigan Content: Agenor Neto Designer: Matheus Vieira Brazilian Analysts: Larissa Machado, Thaís Aguiar, Camila Tsuzuki

Special Thanks: Sandra Sharman & Carlos Balseiro #verificadas #verificables #desinformacao #fakenews #educacaomidiatica #xikavsdesinformação #xikavsdesinformacion #vero #clubcamping #2Danimation #animationstudio @motiongraphics_p @twineanimation @goodmovestv #damngoodmove @motiongraphics_collective

[lgbtpopcult]

January 2022 WLW in Entertainment Rundown

Updated with all the latest

Movies

The first ever lesbian character(s) comes to the Scream franchise with Scream 5!

The last thing Mary Saw, on Shudder, January 20

Heatwave 2022, available on pvod (amazon, itunes etc.)

AM I OK? premieres at Sundance Film Festival 20-30 January

Lucy and Jane are the best of friends. They finish each other’s sentences, predict every detail of each other’s food order, and pretty much know everything about each other. But when Jane is promoted at work and agrees to move to London for her new position, Lucy confesses her deepest, long-held secret: She likes women, she has for a long time, and she’s terrified by this later-in-life realization. Suddenly, their friendship is thrown into chaos as the two choose different routes by which to navigate the unexpected changes in their lives.

Girl Picture premieres at Sundance Film Festival 20-30 January

GIRL PICTURE

Best friends Mimmi and Rönkkö work after school at a food court smoothie kiosk, frankly swapping stories of their frustrations and expectations regarding love and sex. Volatile misfit Mimmi, unexpectedly swept up in the thrill of a new romance with Emma (a driven skater training for the European championships), struggles to adjust to the trust and compromise required by a lasting relationship. Meanwhile, the offbeat, indefatigable Rönkkö hits the teen party scene, stumbling through a series of awkward encounters with members of the opposite sex while hoping to find her own version of satisfaction.

Marte Um, Brazilian film at Sundance Film Festival 20-30 January

TV

Many of our favorites are back including Batwoman, Legends of Tomorrow, New Amsterdam, Nancy Drew and more.

Chosen season 1 drops on Netflix January 27, has a gay girl as its lead and is easily the most interesting TV offering this month.

5 January 2022 Rebelde Netflix version will have some wlw.

In How I met your Father the father's adopted sister is a lesbian who "just moved to New York from a small farming town after separating from her wife. Ellen's more comfortable on an organic lettuce field than in a Brooklyn dive bar."

In Single Drunk Female the main character is bi and the series also has Rebecca Henderson. Henderson will portray Olivia, a brilliant melancholic lesbian who works as one of The Greeters at AA. Smart as a whip with an acerbic wit, Olivia is a highly regarded, Peabody award-winning PBS journalist known for her program “Off the Docs.”

In Hbomax's Peacemaker (yeah...I know 😩) one of the women of the team will have a supportive but tired wife, reluctantly dealing with her new wife’s government job and the secrecy it requires.

Gigi the daughter of the Monarch family is married to a woman. January 30.

In Pivoting one of the 3 leading ladies is a bi woman who is getting back into the dating game after a failed marriage.

One of the supporting characters in the CW's new superhero show Naomi is gay and interested in Naomi. It's unclear whether she's interested back but we are made to understand she's queer and could be interested and the show is cool overall. Will keep an eye on it.

Video Games, Comics and More

Curious Expedition 2 - Highlands of Avalon DLC adds to our favorite turn-based narrative roguelike. Explore while romance of all kinds flourishes.

Harley Quinn: The Animated Series - The Eat, Bang, Kill Tour #5

RELEASES JAN 11TH, 2022

Harley Quinn #11

RELEASES JAN 25TH, 2022

LIFE IS STRANGE: SETTLING DUST ISSUE #4

[usafphantom2]

US Blue Angels appoints first female pilot in squadron history

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 07/19/2022 - 11:00 am in Demonstration Squadrons, Military

The famous Blue Angels air demonstration team of the United States Navy appointed on Monday (07/18) the first female pilot in the history of the squadron, the organization said.

Lieutenant Amanda Lee, who answers the "Stalin" sign, is one of the six new main members selected for the team, founded 76 years ago, the Navy said. He said that women from the Navy and Marine Corps served in the Blue Angels for 55 years, but never before as pilots.

The Blue Angels were created in 1946 to generate public support and raise Navy morale by performing air movements at air shows, sporting events and other flight demonstrations.

Lee, from Mounds View, Minnesota, is currently assigned to the demonstration team of Strike Fighter Squadron (VFA) 106, known as Gladiators, stationed at Oceana Navy Air Station in Virginia Beach, Virginia. She and the other new members will report to the Blue Angels in September. The other pilot selected is Lieutenant Commander Thomas Zimmerman, who is currently assigned to the "Red Rippers" of the Strike Fighter Squadron (VFA) 11.

Lee enlisted in the Navy in 2007, according to a Navy post on Facebook. She worked as an aviation electronics technician before participating in the sailor-to-admiral commissioning program. She graduated from the Navy in 2013.

After the current season ends in winter, members will undergo five months of training at a California facility before starting the 2023 concert season.

There are 17 officers currently at the Blue Angels. They usually serve two years with the team.

While Lee is the first female jet pilot to be accepted into the Blue Angels, she is not the first female pilot in the squadron. Major Katie Cook of the Marines, who joined the Blue Angels in 2015, flew on the squadron's KC-130, the squad's "Fat Albert" logistics aircraft.

"The mission of the Blue Angels is to show the teamwork and professionalism of the United States Navy and Marine Corps through flight demonstrations and community outreach, inspiring a culture of excellence and service to the country," the Navy wrote in a statement.

Tags: Military AviationBlue AngelsDemonstration SquadronsUSN - United States Navy/U.S. Navy

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in a specialized aviation magazine in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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HOME Main Page Editorials Information Events Collaborate SPECIALS Advertise About

Cavok Brasil - Digital Tchê Web Creation

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[atsuminthe]

lily-of-the-valley

★ synopsis: it’s time to return home.

★ character(s): nicolas romero

★ genre: angst to fluff, smut

★ warnings: female reader, 18+, overstimulation, it’s just plain, make-up, vanilla sex for the soul, swearing i guess

★ minty’s notes: this idea has been plaguing me for days. i had to write it down. also in the victorian flower language, lily-of-the-valley represents the return of happiness. you probably figured out why i chose this title

★ additional notes: pspspsps @lausterdomyamong come get y’all romero juice <3

part of the “home is where your heart is” series

    it’s so quiet without you.

    nicolas realizes that a little bit too late, having turned off his phone as he lays in bed on the other side of the world from you and rubens. he stares at the ceiling—the dimly-lit room becomes blurry as his eyes turn misty, guilt hitting him in the face like a wall of bricks. he knows arguments are supposed to happen in relationships of any kind—it’s inevitable.

    yet, the image of your red, puffy eyes as you saw him off at the airport just a week prior still slashes at his heart, trying to rip it open and make it bleed until he eventually dies. it was his fault to begin with, extra practice taking over his schedule—all you had asked was that he come home on time, at least once, so you three can eat dinner together and maybe watch a movie or do some family activity before tucking your son in bed and going off to sleep yourselves. that’s all you asked—pleaded, borderline begged—and now he realizes the waver in your voice when you called him, the night of the fight, at 11:47 pm, to tell him that rubens was asleep and dinner had gone cold. he remembers you telling him that you miss him, before hanging up—was it the fact that you hung up abruptly and he didn’t have a chance to say anything, or the fact that he was frustrated with himself for not doing the one thing he was asked, to blame for the anger that overtook him? most likely the latter, he muses, scratching his stubbled cheek.

    you’re always so good to him, taking care of the house and the family even if you have a job yourself—always there to support and encourage him, even if it’s over facetime—and he dumps his unnecessary frustration on you when you had no blame in the first place.

    he shouldn’t have thought of that—now his pillow is soaked with tears and he can’t sleep on it.

    “gods, i’m the worst,” he whispers, turning on his side and looking out the window as the moon shines down on the floor. “i’m so stupid.” you haven’t spoken to him since he left. ignored calls and texts, not interrupting your activity whenever rubens wanted to facetime with him—it’s like he’s dead to you, nonexistent even. and that hurts him more than he can admit. “i have to make it up to her somehow,” he whispers to nobody in particular, exhaling a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

    and he left without at least apologizing.

    rio de janeiro’s galeão international airport is as crowded as it can get, with people shoving and scurrying all over the place. the brazilian men’s volleyball team is greeted by a sea of journalists and cameras as they weave around the terminals, luggage in hand and ignoring every attempt to be talked to with a swift hand up. the cameras keep flashing and clicking as they disperse, bidding their farewells and promising to meet over beer some time in the future.

    nicolas takes a deep breath, his troller smoothly trudging behind him on the marbled floor. he doesn’t have anyone waiting for him, so he’ll have to make do with an uber until ipanema. i should stop and buy something, but what? maybe a cake? or something to-go? the souvenirs i got won’t be enough, most likely, he thinks. he’s so deep in thought that he misses the way rubens runs up to him and launches into his side until he’s on the floor, tackled by his son as the little boy laughs and hugs him tight.

    “i missed you, papai!” he laughs, not letting go even as his father stands up, holding tight on his leg with a large smile on his face. “how was your flight?”

    “it… was good, i suppose,” he answers, his own grin slowly forming as he crouches so they both are on the same level. he pats rubens’ brown locks, the corners of his eyes crinkling with how big he’s smiling. a cough behind him makes him flinch, slowly turning his head towards the source of his disturbance.

    you sit there, arms crossed over your chest—a frown evident on your face as your brows are pinched together and your lips jut out slightly into a pout. nicolas’s eyes widen and he immediately straightens, fingers flexing and balling into fists as he tries to find his words. it’s a lot more complicated in person, when you look so disappointed in him and he can practically smell the anger on you. he opens his mouth a few times, trying to voice his thoughts—which are a lot and very jumbled—but he’s just gaping like a fish. rubens snickers in the back, now clinging onto your leg.

    you sigh loudly, rolling your eyes for the dramatic effect, and your face relaxes, lips curling into a soft smile—before your husband can raise his head and ask something stupid, you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders. there’s a certain stiffness in nicolas’s body as he registers what the fuck just happened, but it’s quickly gone as he relaxes in your grasp, his own, bulkier arms circling your waist and pulling you into him. there’s a little wet pressure on your shoulder, where he buried his face, but you pay it no mind—now is not the time to think about small things like that. your hand cradles the back of his head, gently massaging his scalp with the tips of your fingers—just how he likes it.

    “welcome back home, meu amor. we missed you,” you whisper, turning your head slightly and placing a kiss on his temple. rubens squishes himself between your bodies and hugs his father, cheek pressed against his stomach, and your free hand travels down to pat his head. a sob racks through your husband’s body and makes him shiver—you hold him close, whispering that you’re not going anywhere as he blabbers mindlessly—‘i’m so sorry’, ‘please forgive me’ and ‘i fucking missed you, so fucking much’ spill from his lips as a waterfall of emotions almost drowns him.

    fortunately for him, you’re there and you have no intention of letting him sink to the bottom. your warmth grounds him, allowing him to breathe—his knuckles turned white from how tight he grabs at your shirt, but you let him. you let him take whatever he needs from you, stitching his lacerated heart in a way only you know.

    “let’s go home, nico,” you urge, fingers never leaving his scalp as you place another kiss, this time on his cheek, and he starts crying again when you carefully whisper your next words. “dinner’s ready for all of us.”

    the air is hot and thick as your moans echo around the room—the only source of light is the moon, shining on you as you bounce up and down your husband’s cock. his big palms grip your hips, helping you move as he sometimes thrusts his own upwards to meet you halfway. you cry out his name at a particularly rough thrust, back arching and head thrown back. the arm wrapped around your middle brings you back and squishes your chest against his—you’re his and he’s yours, so he intends to prove that to you in the best way he knows—by claiming you over and over and over.

    but tonight, it’s not just about carnal pleasure. it’s about cherishing you and indulging in your love—it’s featherlight touches and gentle kisses—about making you feel appreciated, because nicolas romero is a man of fine taste, and you’re the finest, most precious thing he could ever have the honor of calling ‘his’.

    he takes his time bringing you to your climax, as if trying to make up for the week spent apart and all the nights when you cried yourself to sleep, your bed empty and cold; for all the times he’s been an idiot, the times when he was too stubborn to admit he was wrong, the times he didn’t appreciate you as he should have.

    his mouth closes around your nipple, sucking it slowly to stimulate you further—the action makes you catch fire, body melting and numbing at the overwhelming pleasure you’re feeling. your legs give out, allowing him to take over—you find yourself with your back on the mattress in a matter of seconds and your arms fly to wrap around nicolas’s neck, bringing him impossibly closer. you need to feel him as much as he needs to feel you—he leans down to capture your lips, his mouth slotting perfectly against yours as his skilled tongue slips past them—you whimper when his fingers start digging into the flesh of your thighs, but at the same time it feels nice to have some semblance of stability.

    “te amo,” nicolas pants between thrusts, nibbling on your lower lip. his eyes are half-lidded, watching the way your face scrunches everytime he hits a good spot inside you. “so fucking much, i love you so much it hurts—” another particularly hard push of his hips makes his cock nudge your cervix, sending you over the edge—he curls around you as you thrash and scream, tears streaming down your cheeks from the blinding orgasm you just experienced.

    coming down from your forced high, you’re completely limp against him, tongue lolled out, drool dripping down from the corner of your mouth onto the pillow. his hips never falter, still pistoning in and out of you at a brutal pace in search of his high—the overstimulation is too much for you, is what you think, yet even so he rips another earth-shattering orgasm from you, making your body shudder violently. you’re too fucked out to realize, though, brain fuzzy and clouded with the aftershocks of your lust. you look up, blearily blinking, and you’re met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen—his hair is tousled, sticking to his forehead because of the sheen of sweat adorning his strong body and he’s smiling down at you with the most lovestruck look he can muster.

    “you’re so cute, amor,” he whispers, gently biting the lobe of your ear. “i would worship you all day if i could.” he trails pecks down your neck and on your jaw, stopping to kiss your lips slowly, lazily—yet there’s a certain desperation as he holds you practically pressed to himself—almost afraid of letting you go.

    “i love you too, nico,” you giggle, still drunk on the feeling of his cock splitting you in two just a few minutes before. your arms around his neck travel down to his nape, sliding further until they reach his face. both your palms sit on each side of his face, squishing his cheeks. “even if i’m nasty sometimes, or if we have arguments like that one. i’ll always love you, alright?”

    for the first time in half a month, nicolas feels at ease. maybe it was coming home to you and finding out you aren’t mad at him, or this amazing make-up sex that might have turned him a little stupid (“good pussy does that to you”, he always says)—or maybe it’s just... you. your whole presence calms him down. smiling fondly, his head rests on your chest, ear pressed to your beating heart, your fingers treading through his hair as you fall asleep, lulled by each other’s warmth and comfort.

taglist (send an ask/dm to be added/removed): @nakizumie; @lovelytarou; @koutaris; @izhyperfixates; @kirakirasaku; @tsumooo

[jason11max]

DS2001 TRANSLATED BIOS

these will all be queued up n posted throughout today

i do not remeber where i found them, my apologies

the first ones are the school mates!!

Team School Mates

No. 01

Name Banbi

Age 13

Birthday 27 October

Occupation Middle school student

Gender Female

Blood type B

Likes Strawberries

Dislikes Drawings of strawberries

Hobby Watching baseball matches

Plans to use the Groovetron for Getting a baseball playing high school student for boyfriend

Worries About being short

Personality I don't like liars

Special skills I'm fast so...stealing bases, maybe?

Collects Pro baseball players trading cards

Dream To become a pro athlete!

Respects Ichiro (baseball player)

Releases stress By eating strawberry parfaits

Favorite word/phrase Sayonara Homerun

When drunk... I'm a minor, I can't drink

With 1 million yen... I'd like to go to see a Major League match...

Quotient Anti-Giants quotient: 90 (but I like Uehara)

Epilogue: After becoming No.1 Dancer Banbi thought a lot, and eventually gave up on getting a baseball playing high school student for boyfriend, deciding to have her middle school officially recognize the dance club. "I want a baseball playing high school student for boyfriend, but dancing with everyone is the most exciting thing of all"

What kind of dance club will captain Banbi create?

No. 02

Name Candy

Age 16

Birthday July 2

Occupation Middle school student (flunked once)

Gender Female

Blood type O

Likes Ultimate (sport)

Dislikes Videogames

Hobby Body building

Plans to use the Groovetron for Getting a macho guy as boyfriend

Worries I don't really think much.

Personality Instead of worrying or fretting over something, forgetting about it seems easier to me.

Special skills I can bench press 120 kg.

Collects Hmm, I collect proteins but...

Dream Becoming a pretty bride

Respects Arnold Schwarzenegger

Releases stress by Muscle training

Favorite word/phrase Simple, "focus!"

When drunk... Drinking weakens muscles, so I don't do it.

With 1 million yen... I'd like to learn Brazilian Ju-Jitsu.

Quotient Muscle-brained quotient: 92

Epilogue: She forgot completely about the Groovetron's existence, and left it on the train when getting off at her station. "Aaaahh!!! I forgot it!!!!...oh well, I'll try again next time." Her fighting spirit keeps burning strong.

No. 03

Name Betty

Age 13

Birthday September 14

Occupation Middle school student

Gender Female

Blood type A

Likes Aojiru ("green juice" a healthy but very bitter vegetable drink)

Dislikes Nerds

Hobby Gardening

plans to use the Groovetron for having the school acknowledge the dance club as official

Worries About my frail body, maybe.

Personality ...I'm a crybaby, a little.

Special skills Paragliding

Collects MEISSEN porcelain.

Dream To have a love story just like "Roman Holiday"

Respects Audrey Hepburn

Releases stress by Drinking herb tea

Favorite word/phrase Natural

When drunk... Alcohol is bad.

With 1 million yen... I'd like to go on a trip by myself.

Quotient Kindness quotient: 97

Epilogue: After becoming No.1 dancer, Betty without hesitation

prayed to the Groovetron for the dance club to be officially acknowledged by her school. "I beg of you, please make our dance club official" The winner of the following year's national middle school dance tourney was indeed Betty's dance club.

No. 04

Name Olive

Age 14

Birthday April 30

Occupation Middle school student

Gender Female

Blood type B

Likes Tasmanian devils

Dislikes Purikura

Hobby Cooking

Plans to use the Groovetron for Collect cute animals from all over the world

Worries It's hard taking care of my little brothers and sisters (we are 7 in all)

Personality Serious, considered reliable by everyone.

Special skills Hand-made cooking

Collects Bell marks (From products marked with a bell mark. part of the profits go to a foundation supporting special schools/institutes that need funds)

Dream To be a cook

Respects Ayrton Senna

Releases stress by Watching F1 races late at night.

Favorite word/phrase 50% discount

When drunk... I don't like alcohol.

With 1 million yen... I'd like to go to a hot spring resort with my family.

Quotient Good daughter quotient: 86

Epilogue: Olive couldn't decide whether to pray the Groovetron for the dance club to be acknowledged as official, or for it to gather lots of cute animals for her. "I would be the only one raising the animals...but we all worked hard together, so let's make our club an official one" At present the club has more than 100 members and Olive is very busy training the younger ones.

-jason (did i mention i got my copy of the game yesterday? heres the school mates)

[that-soccer-guru]

what are you thoughts of iffhs south american (or latin america) team of the decade?

if you think my first reaction other than "oh dang that's a LOT of Brazilians, good for them!" was "ITS YORELI RINCON!!!!!!!!!!" you'd be right 😂

I think it's interesting that some players who were banned by their national teams made this team. That's one way to see that the federations really out here FUCKING UP.

Bc I am the way i am and I can't write short posts, have this here

Banini is one of the Argentinian recently banned for demanding payment for Argentina's tournament performance and the lack of support from the Federation.

Yoreli is arguably the best female soccer player in Colombia, also famously banned for helping her teammates demand better conditions and payment for tournament performance (she was also marked as persona nongrata for calling the league on their bullshit for taking Atletico Hulia's league cup win money and giving them to the men's team)

I don't think it's any secret that Marta might be the greatest female soccer player in the world, if not one of the best soccer players in the world. She's broken barriers, become an icon for equality, a leader for the sport, she's incredibly skilled, I can't give her more credit if I tried.

I mean.... Formiga is 42 fucking years old and she is still kicking dude. She's in France kicking ass but she's been in Sweden, had time in the NWSL, she has 200 caps in the NT. Frankly Formiga will retire whenever the hell she feels like it, or she'll drop dead on the pitch at age 90 still showing the kids how it's done. However it may be, Formiga is AMAZING.

I could go through everyone but, these women are all amazing and accomplished and have struggled with their NTs to get recognition for their skill, the sport, and so the future generations can play the game they love without having to struggle like they did.

Of course I would love to see some other players here (I would've loved to see Daniela Montoya somewhere in there since she'll probably retire, but I can't deny that Erika and Carla Guerrero have earned their place too).

Overall I like it! I'm hopeful that the next time a team of the decade happens, it'll include players from more varied federations who are finally receiving the support they deserve (and, as a proud Colombian, hopefully I'll see more of my girls here)

Your IFFHS South America Team of the Decade

GK - Christiane Endler 🇨🇱

Defenders - Tamares 🇧🇷, Carla Guerrero 🇨🇱, Erika 🇧🇷, Fabiana 🇧🇷

Midfield - Estefania Banini 🇦🇷, Debinha 🇧🇷, Formiga 🇧🇷

Forwards - Marta 🇧🇷, Christiane 🇧🇷, Yoreli Rincon 🇨🇴

That would be 7 Brazilians, 2 Chileans, 1 Argentinian and 1 Colombian player.

Here's hoping for many more country's in 10yrs!

[letterboxd]

How I Letterboxd #13: Erika Amaral.

Film sociologist Erika Amaral on the blossoming of Brazil’s women filmmakers, the joys of queuing for the movies, the on-fire Brazilian Letterboxd community, and the sentimental attachment of her entire nation to A Dog’s Will.

“It is hard to produce art without institutional support and it is very complicated to produce art during this tragic pandemic.” —Erika Amaral

In the wide world outside of English-language Letterboxd, Brazil occupies a particularly fervent corner. Sāo Paulo-based feminist film theorist Erika Amaral has connected with many other local film lovers through her Letterboxd profile, and for anyone with an interest in Cinema Brasileiro, her lists are an excelente place to start.

From her personal introduction to Brazilian film history, to her own attempts to fill gaps in her Latin American cinematic knowledge, Erika’s well-curated selections are a handy primer on the cinema of the fifth-largest country in the world, and its neighbors. These lists sit alongside her finely judged academic deep-dives into filmmakers such as Luis Buñuel, Glauber Rocha and Sarah Bernhardt.

Endlessly fascinated by how “the history of cinema is all intertwined”, Erika has also written on Jia Zhangke for Rosebud Club, is an Ana Carolina stan, enjoys collecting films directed by women featuring mirrors and women, and, like all of us, watched many remarkable movies during quarantine.

Suzana Amaral (left, rear) with cast and crew on the set of her film ‘A Hora da Estrela’ (Hour of the Star, 1985).

Olá, Erika. Please give our readers a brief introduction to your brilliant Introduction to Brazilian Film History list. I’m so happy to see this list getting popular! I’m a sociologist interested in film and gender studies. It’s been four years since I started studying Brazilian film history but my passion for film is much older. I tried to combine those two aspects in this list; films that are meaningful to me, historically relevant films, and historically relevant films erased from film-history books, for instance, those directed by women. The main purpose of my list is to highlight Brazilian women filmmakers’ fundamental contributions to Brazilian cinema.

I listed some absolute classics such as Hour of the Star by the late director Suzana Amaral, and other obscure gems such as The Interview, by Helena Solberg, which is a short feature released in 1966 alongside the development of Cinema Novo. Solberg’s work was hidden for decades. No-one knew about it. In Brazil, especially in the field of film studies and feminist theories, we are experiencing the blossoming of public debates, books being released, and film festivals that look specifically into films such as Solbergs’s and [those of] many other women directors, including Adélia Sampaio, the first Black female director to release a feature film in Brazil in 1984, Amor Maldito. We need these debates on Letterboxd as well, so I wrote this list in English.

As a representative of the passionate Brazilian community on Letterboxd, can you provide some insight into the site’s popularity where you live, especially for those of us who have not learned Brazilian Portuguese? I feel at home using Letterboxd. Everywhere I see Brazilian members posting reviews in both Portuguese and English. It’s a passionate community. It’s directly related to Twitter where Brazilian cinephiles are so active and productive, always sharing film memes (and even Letterboxd memes). Many content creators are using both Letterboxd and Twitter to showcase their podcasts, classes and film clubs. I once started a talk at a university for film students mentioning that my Masters research project came into life when I watched Amélia, showing my mind-blown Letterboxd review in the presentation. I follow many of those students now and it is so good to be connected. Brazilian Film Twitter and [the] Brazilian Letterboxd community are on fire!

Alexandre Rodrigues as Buscapé in ‘City of God’ (2002), directed by Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund.

When uninitiated cinephiles think about Brazilian cinema, City of God is most likely top of the list. It’s the only Brazilian film to be nominated for Best Director at the Academy Awards (despite co-director Kátia Lund being shut out!) and it’s the only Brazilian film in IMDb’s Top 250. After nearly 20 years, is it fair for City of God to represent Brazil? Of course, it is fair for City of God to represent Brazil! The only problem is if we think all Brazilian cinema is exclusively City of God. The film is entertaining, well-directed, has a great cast, but it has some flaws—for example, the aestheticization of violence and misery in Brazil, which scholar Ivana Bentes calls the “cosmetics of hunger”. Even so, it is a great film and it captivated Brazilian and international audiences. We shouldn’t limit any country to only one or two films.

If you enjoy City of God, check my list for Brazilian films directed by women in this period, which we call “Cinema da Retomada”—the renaissance of Brazilian cinema after the economic problems [that] hampered the film industry in the 1990s.

Selton Mello and Matheus Nachtergaele in beloved Brazilian comedy ‘O Auto da Compadecida’ (A Dog’s Will, 2000).

Several Brazilian films have stunningly high ratings on Letterboxd, giving them a place on many of our official lists. This includes A Dog’s Will, which is in the top ten of our all-time Top 250. On Letterboxd, A Dog’s Will reviews are cleanly divided into two camps: Brazilians (who absolutely love it) and everyone else (who fail to understand its popularity). What drives this home-team spirit? People truly love A Dog’s Will! It’s funny, has a fantastic rhythm, and it references many aspects of Brazilian culture, especially regarding north-eastern Brazilian culture. It was shown both as a film and as a miniseries infinite times on the largest and most popular television channel in Brazil. I can’t help mentioning that A Dog’s Will portrays Jesus Christ as a black man and Fernanda Montenegro as Brazil’s patron saint, Nossa Senhora Aparecida. It’s a brilliant moment for Matheus Nachtergaele, one of the greatest Brazilian actors ever.

Can you offer us a ‘Gringo’s Guide to A Dog’s Will’? I love the idea of a ‘Gringo’s Guide to A Dog’s Will’! You need to have good subtitles. The beauty of A Dog’s Will is that it is regional but it was made to be understandable to all of Brazil. You are going to need subtitles that [cover] the expressions, slang and proverbs—not mere translations. I would recommend watching some other films from north-eastern Brazil; Land of São Saruê, Love for Sale and Ó Paí Ó: Look at This. This can help you understand other social and cultural dimensions of Brazil beyond, for instance, City of God. A Dog’s Will is a movie that we would watch on a lazy Sunday afternoon with the family, so we have a strong sentimental attachment to it.

Leonardo Villar bears the weight of a cross in ‘The Given Word’ (1964).

Religion plays an important role in Brazilian cinema—for example, one of the few Brazilian films to win the Palme d’Or is the masterful The Given Word. Is this connection a part of what makes Brazilian cinema so potent for the local community? Religious symbolism and religious beliefs are extremely significant in Brazilian cinema. Its presence in cinema seems to address our daily challenges, rituals, history, but not always apologetically—as you can see in the despair of Zé do Burro in The Given Word. Religion does not seem to help him. There’s nowhere to run. The spiritual belief, as well as the cross itself, is a weight on his shoulders.

So you see, religion in Brazilian cinema is so potent because we can think beyond it, we can understand how people relate to their beliefs and how sometimes religion can fail a person. That’s what happens when a priest falls in love with a local girl (The Priest and the Girl), when a curse falls upon a man who turns against his people (The Turning Wind), when we teach fear and sin to young girls (Heart and Guts), when religion becomes a determining way of life that does not pay back efforts (Divine Love), when we accept the possibility of going against religious institutions (José Mojica Marin’s, AKA Coffin Joe, films).

We have all these movies fascinated by religion and how it creates meaning in our society. This is just from Christianity, because if we think of African and Indigenous heritage, we have another whole dimension of films to reflect upon, such as Noirblue and the documentary Ex-Pajé.

We have some Brazilian films in our Official Top 100 by Women Directors list, including The Second Mother, which sits in the top five with City of God. Who are some overlooked female Brazilian filmmakers that you want to celebrate and put on our map? Undoubtedly Juliana Rojas and Gabriela Amaral Almeida. They’re both on the horror scene and their work is astonishing. I strongly recommend Hard Labor and Rojas’ latest film Good Manners (if you are into werewolves). I can’t even pick one for Almeida—The Father’s Shadow and Friendly Beast are awesome. Beatriz Seigner’s The Silences—filmed in the frontier between Brazil, Colombia, and Peru—is really impactful. Glenda Nicácio’s films, co-directed with Ary Rosa, are among my favorite recent Brazilian films. Watch To the End immediately!

Eduardo Coutinho’s ‘Twenty Years Later’ (1984).

Brazilian documentarian Eduardo Coutinho has not one, not two, but three of his films in the Official Top 100 Documentaries list, including the all-time number one Twenty Years Later. Can you describe Coutinho’s significance in Brazil? Coutinho is a monument! Coutinho is an institution! Coutinho is everything. His works are of strong political importance, as you can see in Twenty Years Later. A movie he was making in 1964 was interrupted by the dictatorship installed in Brazil, and the main actor and activist, João Pedro Teixeira, was murdered, then his wife Elizabeth Teixeira had to flee and change her identity.

The documentary follows Coutinho and his crew looking for the actors from his movie from twenty years before. Later, his works developed many different tones and formats as you can see in Playing, an experimental portrayal of real women and their personal experiences side-by-side with actresses representing their real-life events as if in a play. Playing was one of the mandatory films to be analyzed for [my] Film School entrance exam, so I had to watch it a million times in 2017. His works are profound studies on Brazilian people and culture—piercing, but also delicate.

Contemporary documentaries are also doing well; Petra Costa’s latest, The Edge of Democracy, was nominated for an Oscar, and Emicida: AmarElo – It’s All for Yesterday was briefly Letterboxd’s highest-rated film late last year. How are these docs tapping into the zeitgeist? Those are both very different films. Emicida is part of a strong and structured movement against racism, against the marginalization of Black people, against limiting the access to art and culture to certain social groups, which is a common practice in the history of this country. Petra Costa’s documentary is another form of reflection on contemporary politics but in a melancholic tone since, recently in Brazil, we have been facing political storms such as the impeachment of ex-president Dilma Roussef, the imprisonment of ex-president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva (who has recently been declared not guilty), and rising far-right politicians. Not to mention another of our losses, the still-unsolved killing of Marielle Franco, a Black and lesbian political representative. These films have helped us face these difficulties and try to gather some hope for the future.

Bárbara Colen (center) and villagers in ‘Bacurau’ (2019).

How has Brazil’s cinema industry been affected by the one-two punch of the pandemic on top of ongoing social and political issues? And, can you talk a bit about how the acclaimed Cannes-winner Bacurau shocked the nation two years ago, and in what ways the film confronted these problems? This question is challenging because there’s so much happening. At this moment, we have 428,000 deaths [from] Covid and we are still mourning the Jacarézinho favela massacre in Rio de Janeiro. We have very troubled political representatives that are not fighting Covid in an adequate way to say the least, and we have had major cut downs in the cultural sector since, in Brazil, a lot of artistic and cultural projects are developed with governmental incentives. It is hard to produce art without institutional support and it is very complicated to produce art during this tragic pandemic.

Right before this chaos, we had Bacurau. Actually, I have a pleasant anecdote about my experience with Bacurau. Everybody was talking about how it was going to premiere at a special event with the presence of its directors. We had some expectations regarding the premiere because it was going to be free of charge and it would take place at the heart of São Paulo, the Avenida Paulista, in an immense theater.

We arrived at 1pm to form a line and people were there already. I discovered through Twitter that the first boy in line was hungry so I gave him a banana. I had brought a lot of snacks. The line was part of the event, and it got so long you couldn’t believe it. It was great to see so many friends and people gathered to see a movie—and such an important movie! There weren’t enough seats for everyone but they exhibited the film in two different rooms so more people could enjoy it.

I love everything about that day and I think it helps me to have some perspective on cinema, culture, politics and what we can accomplish by working collectively—people uniting to fight dirty politicians, people joining forces to fight social menaces, generosity, empathy, fight for justice and the power of the masses.

The life of 17th-century nun Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz is explored in María Luisa Bemberg’s ‘Yo, la Peor de Todas’ (I, the Worst of All, 1990).

Would you like to highlight some films from your neighboring countries? I have been watching some fascinating films from South America. Bolivian filmmaker Jorge Sanjinés has an extensive filmography and his films were the first to portray characters speaking Aymara. I really like his Ukamau. I also love Argentine director María Luisa Bemberg’s films, such as I, the Worst of All. I’m currently studying Jayro Bustamante’s La Llorona, from Guatemala. I have no words to say how incendiary this film is. You’ll have to watch it for yourself!

Who are three Brazilian members that you recommend we all follow? Firstly, I recommend you follow my beautiful partner in crime and cinema, Pedro Britto. Secondly, a fantastic painter and avid researcher of Maya Deren and Agnès Varda, my adored friend Tainah Negreiros. Finally, I recommend you follow Gustavo Menezes, who is the author of many excellent lists [about] Brazilian cinema. He’s also the co-founder of a streaming platform called Cinelimite, which everyone should take a look at.

Related content

Silvia’s Cinema Novo list

Gabriela’s Cinema Brasileiro master list

Serge’s list of films that have won the Grande Otelo (Grande Prêmio de Cinema Brasileiro for Best Film)

Follow Erika on Letterboxd, Tumblr and in print

Follow Jack on Letterboxd