#Skills for life award

[tired-and-swaggy]

getting actually so pissed about the way the interview with the vampire press is leaving Assad Zaman out of the conversations. he had one of the most important roles of the season, yet he is left out of every article and promo. even at sdcc, the promo billboard doesn’t include him. It’s so frustrating because his performance was so incredible and i feel he really captured the “armand” energy. this season would not have been possible without him. and yet there are practically no interviews or promotion for him. it’s insane to me actually.

[yupuffin]

Listen. Cosplayers, listen.

"Comparison is the thief of joy" is an idiom for a reason.

As someone who's had my mental state absolutely ruined by being constantly compared to other people for my entire life, I think the cosplay "community" could really benefit from not taking the competition aspect quite so seriously.

Yes, cosplay contests are perhaps THE main event of basically any convention or gathering that involves cosplay--but it being a competition is primarily to give the audience a reason to attend and see everyone show off their work--some tension and excitement, in the form of anticipating who will bring home the rewards.

In reality, the existence of the competition format doesn't necessarily mean any cosplayers inherently deserve awards more than any other, or because any cosplayer is ~ better ~ than any other. It's for the audience. For the cosplayer, cosplay doesn't have to be about the competition, about constantly comparing yourself to others or even to your past self.

In fact, it's probably healthier for you, and the cosplay "community" as a whole, if it's not.

Cosplay is an art first and foremost--each piece has inherent worth and value just by being created, and there is no "right" or "wrong" way to cosplay. Some people have been doing it longer than others, or may use different tools or techniques from others, but there are no "elite" cosplayers, and there isn't a cosplay "community" as long as people still put so much emphasis on awards and comparing each other as they currently do.

Even if you're only comparing yourself to your past self--your current work to your past work--constant pressure to improve with every single piece can be unhealthy, or even as toxic as comparing it to the work of a completely different person.

As an artist, you have to be okay with making mediocre art. Not everything you make is going to be a masterpiece. You will not necessarily see improvement in your skills with each individual work. You can't make great art without also making a lot of meh art in between. If it harms your enjoyment of cosplay as a hobby not to continuously make pieces that are better than all the last ones, you're likely going to spend a lot of cosplay time being disappointed instead of having fun.

This is just my personal opinion of the competition format, though. I'm not saying we have to do away with competitions entirely--I just really think they should be taken less seriously and emphasis should be removed from what comparisons are being made and instead put on supporting and welcoming every cosplayer, regardless of their skill level or ability, actual or perceived, because the "quality" of a cosplayer's art does not determine the value of the piece or of the artist. At least, that's if we really want the cosplay "community" to be a COMMUNITY.

If you'd like, you can treat cosplay as a sport instead of an art form--but you can't build a true "community" on wanting to be ~ better ~ than everyone else in the room.

By the way, everything I've said in this post also applies to dance.

(...And likely every other form of art out there as well, but cosplay and dance are where I have experience.)

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

god. sometimes i really hate those "10 jobs that you can do WITHOUT a qualification that pay over 100k" and they list something like "human resource management" 130k a year!!! when like. EVERY fucking HR job (and other jobs like this, say like librarian- something that i PAID 17k for and burnt out for in postgrad lmao) strictly DEMAND that candidates must have 1-2 years experience AND an HR DEGREE.

very, very, very, very rarely i see something in HR requiring a TAFE (aussie technical college) certificate (ie MUCH cheaper- 7k) or a diploma in HR. it's almost always a degree, barely EVER "no quals or equivalent experience or similar quals"... even for entry level jobs in hr or most defs management positions.

[directsellingnow]

Dignitaries and Industry leaders across the direct selling industry in india have joined in the celebration of FDSA 13th Anniversary

FDSA Breaking News: 30 सितंबर 2024 को भारतीय डायरेक्ट सेलिंग इंडस्ट्री के प्रमुख संगठन Federation of Direct Selling Association (FDSA) ने अपनी 13वीं वर्षगांठ (FDSA 13th Anniversary) बड़ी धूमधाम से मनाई। इस उपलक्ष्य में Vivanta, Dwarka (New Delhi) में एक भव्य कार्यक्रम का आयोजन किया गया, जिसमें कई गणमान्य हस्तियों ने भाग लिया। इस अवसर पर मुख्य अतिथि के रूप में Mrs. Nimuben Jayantibhai Bambhaniya,…

[primeviewprathamesh]

Alison Hampshire: The Award-winning Innovator and School Leader, Nurturing Future Leaders with the Right Skills Set and Knowledge at The Aga Khan Academy

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

no feeling quite like wanting to do something but knowing your disability means you can't

[safetycourses2022]

[happywitch416]

I had to have some major freak out last night but today has been fine. We got this. Moose is doing good, really great all things considered. We've got a plan(s) in place. Now we are just waiting on other people to get themselves together and thats a them problem.

And cause I refuse to let him lose all his brains, we read the opening of the Odyssey today, did math, art, writing practice, and went to the library. Tomorrow we are going to do guitar lessons.

Once I get the damned thing tuned.

[freshlyjudgedfiend]

tag dump part 2!

[coldcanadianwinters]

just looking at this from a purely technical perspective, as someone who's had the opportunity to blow glass before (I'm terrible at it but it is incredibly fun lmao), these forms are truly impressive. I'm looking specifically at that second to last one there - the fact that it is still clearly hollow all the way through, despite the incredible obstruction to the shape and the necessity to lay the molten glass while still on the blowpipe onto the mold they had to make before the glass (cooled-off) could ever touch the stone seen in the picture is remarkable. Getting that fold in the top part of the glass without losing the structural integrity of the overall form while it was still able to be shaped without shattering probably took multiple attempts, and the fact that the outside of the shape is still so rounded and flawless overall, without any part of the entire shape looking overblown or thinned, or even way too thick, speaks to some good skill.

I love glassblowing. It's so neat. If you ever get a chance to, I recommend trying it out haha

Erik Olovsson (Swedish, b.1982)

INDEFINITE VASES - various types of marble, granite and onyx combined with mouth blown glass - 2016

“The project is an exploration of the relationship between geometric and organic forms – transparent and opaque. Indefinite melting materia interacts with definite angular forms and gravity determines the relationship in between. Indefinite Vases are sculptures or containers. Functional or decorative. The contrast between the cut stone and the form of the hand blown glass emphasizes the relation between space and object, an interplay between a fragile material and its solid counterpart.”

https://studioeo.com/p/infinite-vases

[ckret2]

I might tweak some details later (jewelry? take the ribbon off the bow?) but I've about got a Scalene design I like. The lipstick is really the centerpiece of the design. Now let's infodump! With more art!

🔺 Notice her lines are a a little curvy. It's not for artistic effect. She's got a Fictional Polygon Physical Disorder that makes her bendier than she should be—meaning, among other things, sides that curve and flex.

🔺 It's also the kind of condition with symptoms that are romanticized by people who don't grok that it's a debilitating medical condition. Sides that curve and flex? How exotic! This went to her head in the wrong ways.

🔺 Bill was born with the same condition. You know how squishy and blobby he was as a baby? Thaaat's genetic! He was a lot squishier than most babies! And, consequently, more adorable.

🔺Scalene dreamed of being a famous super model. Was actually a teen beauty queen at mid-tier beauty pageants. She thinks it's always somebody else's fault she wasn't more successful.

🔺 She took Bill to his first baby beauty pageant the day he was born. He did, in fact, have a Best Baby Ever award presented to him by the mayor, but to be fair he was only competing against like 6 other babies and who's going to withhold a trophy from a newborn on his birthday? Anyway the 6-12 month group and 12-24 month groups also each had a Best Baby Ever award.

🔺 This was an absolutely bonkers thing for Scalene to do.

🔺 What's that small scrunkly thing doing at a pageant, he can't even see color yet.

🔺 Their fictional squishy medical condition doesn't just accidentally make shapes cute. It's the kind of condition that affects just about all parts of the body: sides won't stay straight, poor muscle tone resulting in instability & weakness, poor motor coordination & clumsiness, back aches & pains (well, triangles don't have "backs." side aches?), easily dislocated joints, and increasingly skewed sides with age. Just about everyone in Scalene's family is born equilateral and ends up extremely scalene after young adulthood. The rest of her family have normal relationships with their condition, she's the only one who's weird about it

🔺 She was very rough on her body in pursuit of pageantry success, but her physical symptoms & associated chronic pain got a lot worse due to having a kid; she had to retire from pageantry for good. She doesn't blame Bill for this at all. Out loud, to his face. (If she hadn't been so rough on herself in pageants, having a kid probably wouldn't have impacted her health this much. She doesn't consider this.)

🔺 She's weirdly intent on seeing Bill become the success she wasn't. He's her little golden child, he deserves to be seen as the greatest! He'll show them how great he is for mommy, won't he? He won't let mommy down, will he? When he's very young, she takes him to child pageants—he'll appreciate the lessons they taught him when he's older—and this lasts until he finds out he can get out of it by pyrokinetically setting the stage on fire.

🔺 She jokes ("jokes") that she didn't realize that when she was having a kid, she was firing herself from the pageant circuit so she could hire & train her own replacement. These jokes had no long-term impact on Bill at all!!!

(Compare/contrast: how we're told Stan's "You watch the movie, you scare the girl, the girl snuggles up next to you, next thing you know you gotta raise a kid, your life falls apart" is repeating something he heard his dad say.)

🔺 Did you know that squeaky baby shoes are sometimes medical devices? Squeakers help children with poor muscle tone and delayed motor skills learn how to walk correctly: it makes them want to walk on their heels instead of their toes so they can hear the squeak. Did you know sometimes oversized squeaky baby shoes are worn by young kids who need ankle braces? Did you know that kids with poor motor coordination can take a longer time to learn complicated motor skills like tying shoelaces rather than using shoes with velcro straps? It sure is interesting that baby Bill's most defining visual feature is oversized squeaky sneakers with velcro straps and that he kept wearing velcro shoes until he was 16!

🔺 As a baby, Bill's angles were technically supposed to be equilateral,* but thanks to his inherited condition, his angles were so loose his top corner practically formed a right angle. Not good: the closer a triangle creeps to being obtuse, the more likely he'll have muscle strain and medical issues from his organs being squished out of place by his own exoskeleton.

(*supposed to be equilateral: but after receiving treatment, they discovered his angles were still 60º, 60º, and 60.1º, which is mathematically impossible for a triangle... on a euclidean plane. But on a non-euclidean 3D plane, such as in spherical geometry, a triangle's angles can add up to more than 180º... and it's this slight 3D flex to Bill's body that lets him see up into the third dimension.)

🔺 For his first few years of life he actually had a hypotenuse, until physical therapy and side braces helped him improve his muscle tone. Sometimes he still reflexively refers to his base as his hypotenuse. It's fine, sweetie, it's nothing to be embarrassed about, mommy had a hypotenuse too. Don't tell anyone.

🔺 Scalene took baby Billy to a lot of doctors as a kid, just like how she was taken to a lot of doctors! Doctor for his side braces, doctor for his physical therapy, doctor for his shoes... doctor for his eye when he started talking about seeing white glitter at the edge of his vision. Scalene didn't have that symptom, but the eye doc said their condition does occasionally come with visual problems—blurred vision, lazy eye, visual field defects... It sounds like Bill's main field of vision is unobstructed, but if the visual snow he's getting in his peripheral vision is distracting him and confusing his little toddler mind into thinking it's something real, they can give him a medication that'll narrow his field of view. From the sound of it, he's not seeing anything important at the edge of his vision, anyway.

And she only wants what's best for her golden child.

🔺 Scalene's "bow" is actually a medical device: sort of like a medical corset, it helps tug and press her anatomy into place to reduce pain. Bill started wearing one preventatively���if he can keep everything in place when he's young, it'll take longer for his angles to skew when he's older. Like wearing a retainer when you get your braces out.

🔺 He has a cane for the same reason—he doesn't need it NOW when he's young, but he might as well keep it on hand, by age 35 he'll probably want to stand more often than float and when he's standing he'll probably want the extra support! Even if he doesn't need it by 35, he will eventually!!

🔺 Bill doesn't medically need a bow tie in the third dimension either; but he adapted it to help tie his 3D exoskeleton on.

🔺 A trillion years later, Bill suspects that his mutation to see the third dimension came, at least in part, from his mom's medical condition. Except, she didn't have that vision. Nobody else with the condition on her side of the family had that vision. It's not a known symptom of the condition. His dad had stuff going on with his eye too, did he get it from his dad's side? A mix of both? Just a standalone random mutation? He doesn't know; and with the rest of his species dead, there's no way for him to find out.

But back to Scalene!

🔺 She's not quite red, she's rose gold. However she doesn't like it. She thinks it's a sort of pinkish brown and very dull. She uses makeup to make herself look redder. Note how bright red her sides are: in a species where only your edges are visible, body paint is the most common form of makeup+fashion. She's pleased her baby came out gold-gold, it's much cuter. Bill knows she's rose gold, but he only saw her with her makeup off when she was tired or sick; he remembers her painted red.

🔺 She adores her Billy; but she somewhat sees him as an extension of her will. She thinks he's just perfect and will tell anyone who asks; but she also demands he be perfect and is furious when he isn't. She'll protect him from ANY perceived external threat; but she'll tough love him into being the kind of success she thinks he should be. He learns early that when he screws up, he can often redirect his mother's anger by pointing his finger and saying it's someone else's fault, and she'll bring the wrath of heaven down on them. Woe to the teacher who gives Bill an F on a test.

🔺 I'm on a quest to write Bill as a foil to the entire cast of Gravity Falls, and that extends to writing his family as a foil to the entire cast's families. Scalene's a blend of Pacifica's mom and Caryn: beautiful, proud of her beauty, afraid of losing her youth, self-aggrandizing, quick to lie about her & her family's (false/exaggerated) accomplishments—and very aware of the fact that you can say anything about woo-woo mystical matters and nobody can prove you wrong.

🔺 So she takes it great when they figure out Bill is, like, legit psychic. And by "takes it great" I mean "starts a cult."

There's what I've got on Scalene. Fortunately, I got to keep all my pre-TBOB headcanons about Bill's mom, I only had to change her shape & color. I already had medical trauma baked right into the family!

(Preemptive disclaimer before I get any "but she doesn't look 2D" comments: we all understand that the baby Bill picture we see in the book is a psychically-generated 3D approximation of Bill's 2D Euclidean form, right? And that drawing a 3D baby Bill design alongside rigidly 2D parent designs would make it look like even in the second dimension Bill already had a 3D body, right? So, if we're drawing a 3D baby Bill and want to convey that they looked similar to him, we have to draw his parents in a similar art style, right? Okay, great.)

[iwanthermidnightz]

When I think back on the Speak Now album, I get a lump in my throat. I have a feeling it will always be that way, because this period of time was so vibrantly aglow with the last light of the setting sun of my childhood. I made this album, completely self-written, between the ages of 18 and 20. I've spoken about how I feel like those ages are the most emotionally turbulent ones in a persons life. Maybe when I say that, I'm really just talking about myself.

I think they might just be the most idealistic, hopeful years too. At this point in my life, I had released my second album, Fearless. It became the breakthrough moment I'd always dreamt of, one that catapulted my career to new realms of success. It had brought with it a tidal wave of pressures and pitfalls and growing pains. All the while, I was encountering the milestones and checkpoints of normal teenage growth. I had cataclysmic crushes and brushes with heartache. I moved out of my parents' house and set my bags down in a new apartment. I hung photos on my own walls and decorated the space where I would sob and cackle and shatter and dream. Sometimes I felt like a grown up, but a lot of the time I just wanted to time travel back to my childhood bed, where my mom would read stories to me until I fell asleep.

In my darker moments, I was tormented by the doubt that swirled loudly around my ascent and my merits as an artist. I was trying to create a follow up to the most awarded country album in history, while staring directly into the face of intense criticism. I had been widely and publicly slammed for my singing voice and was first encountering the infuriating question that is unfortunately still lobbed at me to this day: does she really write her songs? Spoiler alert: I really, really do.

In the years since, I've developed a thicker skin about public criticism and the cynicism with which some people approach the music I make. At that time, it leveled me. I had these voices in my head telling me that I had the perfect chance and I blew it. I hadn’t been good enough. I had given it all I had and been found wanting.

I wanted to get better, to challenge myself, and to build on my skills as a writer, an artist, and a performer. I didn't want to just be handed respect and acceptance in my field. I wanted to earn it. To try and confront these demons, I underwent extensive vocal training and made a decision that would completely define this album: I decided I would write it entirely on my own. I figured, they couldn't give all the credit to my cowriters if there weren't any. But that posed a new challenge: It really had to be good. If it wasn't, I would be proving my critics right.

I had no idea how much this pain would shape me. That this was the beginning of my series of creative choices made by reacting to setbacks with defiance. That my stubbornness in the face of doubters and dissenters would become my coping mechanism through my entire career from that point forward. This exact pattern of enacting my own form of rebellion when I feel broken is exactly why you're reading these very words, and I'm re-releasing this album now.

I went through my first worldwide scandal (the mic grab seen around the world). I experienced the weirdness of trying to get to know a boy while a swarm of paparazzi surrounds the car. Media contacting my publicist for an official statement on why two teenagers broke up. These are weird experiences to have at any age, but even more surreal when you're 19.

I had the nagging sense that in the most intense moments of my life, I had frozen. I had said nothing publicly. I still don't know if it was out of instinct, not wanting to seem impolite, or just overwhelming fear. But I made sure to say it all in these songs. I decided to call the album Speak Now. It was a play on the speak now or forever hold your peace' moment in weddings, but for me it symbolized a chance to respond to the chatter and commentary around my own life.

Some of these emotional revelations were surprising to people. Some expected anger and instead got compassion and empathy with 'Innocent'. Some expected a kiss-off breakup song but instead got a hand-on-heart apology, 'Back to December. It was an album that was the most precious to me because of its vast extremes. It was unfiltered and potent. In my mind, the saddest song I've ever written is 'Last Kiss'. My most scathing is 'Dear John' and my most wistfully romantic is 'Enchanted'.

I'll be forever proud of setting a goal and seeing it through. I'lI always feel shivers all over when I remember singing 'Long Live' to close the show every night on tour. The outstretched hands of those bright and beautiful faces of the fans. Their support was like an open palm that reached out and helped me up off the ground when others were, frankly, mean.

These days I make my choices for those people, the ones who thought I had been good enough all along. I try to speak my mind when I feel strongly, in the moment I feel it. I'm still idealistic and earnest about the music I make, but I'm less crushed when people mock me for it. I know now that one of the bravest things a person can do is create something with unblinking sincerity, to put it all on the line. I still sometimes wish I was a little kid again in a tiny bed, before I ever grew up.

I always looked at this album as my album, and the lump in my throat expands to a quivering voice as I say this. Thanks to you, dear reader, it finally will be.

I consider this music to be, along with your faith in me, the best thing that's ever been mine.

Yours,

Taylor

[anantaru]

— biting them affectionately

including alhaitham, kaveh, scaramouche, heizou, tighnari, albedo, kazuha, cyno x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, this is so random

alhaitham, who will be at loss of words at first— while, keep in mind, it wasn't easy to get the scribe speechless like that, regardless of how he was never bitten in his life. however, he told himself to never question whenever you'd do anything like that, so for one, he'd simply look at you confused and irritated, before asking you with a stern and stoic blush on his cheeks, "why?" it's not like he doesn't know, but for some reason did he find it quite amusing whenever you'd explain yourself over such little, hilarious things. but, when you decide to bite him again, without answering, he'd just ignore you and keep reading his book.

one might think kaveh will act slightly different than alhaitham, but he's equally confused yet the moment you bite him he'd let out a yell, animalistic, one overly dramatic scream of fake pain, channeling his vocal chords to their fullest extent. "what was that for?!" he whines, rubbing the pulsing red spot on his shoulder, "i just love you." you smile and now, again, he finds himself seeing you as the most adorable thing to ever exist. discernibly did you sense your precious chance of biting him many more times, only faintly, but strong enough to have your boyfriend whine and airily laugh before engaging in a playful fight with you.

if you think scaramouche won't bite you back, you're one naive and wide-eyed individual. this man also doesn't hold back, he'll give it his all to win what you have started. don't be upset when he starts biting you heavier than you do, he sees it as a serious showdown now. "don't go running off now." you're not admitting defeat yet, he fears, but you will, he's sure of it. by now, he has you caged in between his arms while a breezing pain in your belly began to expel, from all the sweet and heavy laughing and cheering. whether or not you will win was long since in the back of your head, what counted was seeing kuni engage in something silly for once, and having a great time at that.

heizou's quick and precise thinking skills were deeply needed in the predicament you both found yourself in. one minute you were lazily cuddling and kissing under the silken sheets before you decided to bite him out of nowhere, not hard, but impressionable. specifically against his neck where he was the most sensitive, "augh." he growls before looking at you, somewhat intrigued, "that came out of nowhere." he huffs, and in some strange way was he already beginning to plan his bloody revenge on you, pulling you on your back before dragging your hands over your head, so you're out of commission, so it's him who can decide where to give you a taste of your own medicine.

at the outset, tighnari thought a random bug bit him out of nowhere, he couldn't even fathom that it was you biting him out of the blue. "wait." he stops the work on his desk, tilting his head to the side where you were comfortably seated in, eagerly, awaiting a response, "was that you?" you can feel the sass in his full sentence as it spread through the seconds of silence before your answer goes right through, "nope." someone must give you an award for keeping your laugh in like that, especially when it was burning and bristling inwardly, "a bug." you shrug, "no, it's you." assuming you're playing mind tricks, he catches the smirk on your lips, "dangerous territory." he coos, the bite mark on his shoulder matches your teeth and thanks to closer inspection he confirms his suspicions. well, good luck to you.

it's not out of the ordinary for albedo to question something insignificant and random a little too deep. "how interesting." he rests his chin against his palm, "is this considered normal amongst humans?" a glittering, infectious smile pulls itself around your lips when he quizzes you on it, over and over, and you settle to do it again without responding, shortly gnawing down on his shoulder, "for me it is." while ruffling his hair until it was practically falling out of the small ponytail, "i see." albedo drags you closer, "should i return it?" by the look of things, this might become a daily occurrence now.

"oh?" kazuha brushes over his arm, holding eye contact, "you're strong." and feigns the heavy proudness in his voice. in actuality, he barely felt your teeth dig into his flesh, but he found the noises you made beyond cute, kind of high pitched within its hilarity. all and all, was this just one of the many things he fell in love with when it came to you and his face lights up in delight and interest when he notices the transparent joy on your lips. there's an almost imperceptible happiness across his entire skin, sparking at the outline of his jaw and littering in his eyes, "now." he slants forward, getting his point across, "my turn!"

quite frankly, did your boyfriend cyno get the impression that you were actually mad at him at first, alas why you decided to bite his cheek right after hugging him, that's the hypothesis of the day. turns out you weren't, shocker, but he rubs the squishy flesh before questioning it— with you, naturally responding right away, "it's because i love you." you assure him, "so you can see it as an act of love." and jokingly bite him again, this time slightly lighter and only a bit, emphasizing your point. after carefully thinking about it more upfront, cyno finds himself enjoying it and doesn't mind when you bite him as much as you see fit, as long as you're happy that is.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[woso-dreamzzz]

Award II

Alexia Putellas x Hardersson!Reader

Aitana Bonmatí x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You are finally rewarded for being the best

You don't play football for the fame.

You've never played football for fame or money or awards.

You play football because you love it.

It's been apart of your life for as long as you can remember. Your parents still have your first Wolfsburg kit, back when you were a baby and couldn't do anything but cry.

The fame, the money, the trophies all just came along with the sport you love.

The responsibility of carrying your country and your club doesn't weigh on you much, not when you have such passion for the game and your teams.

The first time you felt such responsibility was on your youth team, captaining them to a successful Under-17 Euros. Then, the responsibility was back at Barcelona. You were made the third captain after half a season back from your loan to Lyon.

When you left, the responsibility stayed, being made the sole captain for your country. You've spent a year at Wolfsburg now, the club of your childhood, and the band for your club wraps around your arm in preparation for next season.

Denmark Youth Captain.

Barcelona Third Captain.

Sweden Senior Captain.

Wolfsburg First Captain.

You didn't play football to become a leader but somehow you've become one, moving from yelling orders from your defence to yelling orders at the whole team.

You are an expert keeper. You always have been.

People around you say you've made your mark on the game and you haven't even retired yet. People look at you for what a keeper should be, for how a leader should act.

(People whisper that all keepers coming up the ranks now try to mimic your style, your natural instinct and abilities).

It's only inevitable that you have the trophy cabinet to back up your skill.

Two World Cups sit in your cabinet. Two Golden Gloves as well.

Multiple Keeper of the Year trophies.

An Olympic medal.

A Euros medal.

And then awards for at club level too.

Liga F, Copa de la Reina and Supercopa sit in the apartment you used to share with Natalia with a Première Ligue and Coupe de France medal too.

Your Champion's League medals sit with Natalia's on the wall.

Everything you won at Linköping and Arsenal are at home in Sweden whilst your most recent Bundesliga and DFB-Pokal medals are at your apartment in Germany.

You are the greatest goalkeeper playing in the women's leagues at the moment and, while you cannot see it, everyone else knows it.

You've come to the ceremony to eat some of the bar food and maybe see some of your old Lyon teammates.

Talia has come to the ceremony to see you make history.

Alexia and Aitana are the ones presenting the award and just from the way they're smiling, Talia knows the result.

You've been ranked highly ever since your first nomination. That time, you'd ranked eleventh. Every time after that, you've finished in the top ten.

Your name is called and the world stops.

You suck in a breath, frozen in your seat like you're in the Champion's League final with only a one goal lead and the other team advancing on your goal with lethal efficiency.

You don't know what to do. You don't know what to say.

Your wife allows your tuck your head into her neck, not flinching as your tears drip down onto her suit blazer.

"It's okay, baby," Talia says to you," You deserve this so much."

She helps you to your feet, hiding your face as you wipe your tears where cameras can't see.

You force yourself to walk up the stairs to the stage without stumbling. You suck in a breath.

There it is.

The most prestigious award in football.

It was a few years ago now that Talia won hers. She'd had a standout season during her first as Barcelona's captain. She was lethal on goal for club and country.

There was never any doubt it would be here.

That's the way it always is.

Everyone always expects a striker or a midfielder. Sometimes, it's a defender. It's never been a keeper though, at least for the women's.

Second goalkeeper in history.

First female goalkeeper in history.

Aitana is the one nearest to you.

You're taller than her by a lot, towering over her but she still hugs you like you were little, like you were still the little girl she met when hunting down Pernille's shirt.

One of her hands comes up to cup your cheek.

"You've grown up," She says and you force yourself not to cry," You're so big now."

Alexia is next. You last saw her a few weeks ago when you came back to Spain for the weekend and attended one of Talia's games. Alexia made you come down from the stands and asked about Wolfsburg and how your season was going.

She was all business then and you'd been as vague as possible, in case she remembered something that could be used against you during the next rounds of the Champion's League.

But now, there's no hint of professionalism in her eyes as she pulls you into a hug.

"I told you," She whispers," I told you that you'd get this one day. Remember this feeling, okay? There's nothing better in the world. There's no one better in the world."

She pulls away and hands you the award.

You turn to the cameras, to the audience all on their feet clapping you.

You lift up your Ballon D'or for all to see.

[pumpkinrootbeer]

on the subject of voyager being absurd I need to talk about how insane of character Harry is like he's actually not just overacheiver career boy, he's overacheiver in Life because he felt like his parents loved him too much for what he was so he had to earn their love. he was literally in juliard youth symphony right. music was a very real viable career for him. more than that like yes he was also an absurdly skilled engineer. in a timeline where he never left earth he gets promoted to lieutenant in like 6 months, wins several awards, and designs a revolutionary engine. and still in the Canon Real World he graduated summa cum laude of his Starfleet class. Literally top of his class. he also has an award in piloting proficiency. and also ends up being a senior office on his first day.

but more than any of that, the most absurd thing to me is he was a star athlete. I think about this daily like he was captain of the Velocity team and also a fucking. three times champion in the stupid space racketball game. like that's so insane to me. just star athlete on the starship. it's like— okay what's an athlete gay people are likely to know. okay before Caitlin Clark was in the wnba she was really big in college basketball right. so it's like if you worked at NASA and one day Caitlin Clark just strolled into the office, and then due to a series of increasingly unfortunate events you ended up on Mars and Caitlin Clark was also there. on Mars. the whole time with you. am i getting this across does anyone else feel how insane this is.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Cheetah

Hello everyone!

So for once this isn't a request, but more something who was walking in my head rent free and I just had to write it.

I don't know a lot about motorcycle to be honest but i made some research, so if there is some incoherence, I'm sorry!

Also I start to translate the English in Spanish before stopping, because in the end almost everyone is supposed to talk in Spanish and I'm really bad at it (I only can command something to eat and drink).

Please let me know what you think about it and enjoy ♥

TW : Moto accident, Angst, Injuries and a little bit of autodestruction maybe.

“Come on Cheetah, everyone’s waiting for you!”

You sigh softly, putting the picture you were looking at in your bag. It’s a picture of your ex-girlfriend and yourself, during your happy days. It’s been three months since the breakup and you are still mourning the end of your relationship like if it was the first hours. You still feel numb and if like someone is constantly crushing your heart in their iron grip. It’s not getting better, and it probably never will. Ona was, is, the love of your life and it’s just impossible for you to recover from it.

Falling for Ona was easy. You met her when you were both 20, even if you come from Palma de Mallorca and not Barcelona. You are a athlete too, so it wasn’t hard to cross her path at one of the Spanish awards. Patri Guijarro was there too and like you she comes from Mallorca, so she introduced you both and the rest is history.

When Ona moved to Manchester, you follow her. You find a team to train your motorcycle and your skills there. You were still young but promising on the circuit and you didn’t have trouble the find someone to help you getting better. And better you get. Just like Ona in Manchester United, you easily improve your skills and became one of the best in the world. Sure, you were sometimes away from home and Ona for your competitions, but everything was perfect.

When Ona came back to Barcelona, you flow back with her too. Some of your team came with you, some other didn’t but you can’t hold it against them. You find people to replace them and continue to race on the top of the leader boards.

The breakup didn’t come from nowhere, you can’t say that. You knew how much Ona was worried when you race, scared that you hurt yourself. You never had a big injury until now. But just after Christmas, you were implicated in an accident and Ona had trouble to concentrate in something else than that since that day.

It wasn’t your fault honestly; you just weren’t able to avoid the motorcycles already lying on the road. So, you made a gliding flight and had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, nothing too serious. But Ona was in Barcelona while you were in Qatar, and it took almost two hours for you to be able to call her, even if you make everything possible to have your phone back.

That’s what pushed Ona to break up with you.

“I can’t keep focusing on your future death while I’m in training or supposed to be concentrated on something important, Y/N/N. I’m so sorry.” was what she told you.

Can you blame her? No. Did she told you it was because she doesn’t love you anymore? No. Did you try everything to make her change her mind? Yes. You even told her that you will stop your sport. But she’s not with you anymore and it hurt like hell.

“Hi Cheetah!” make one of your opponent when you arrive in the garage, where the motorcycles are stored.

“Hola” you mumble back.

Cheetah is your nickname, because of your speed and the feline way you stand on your bike. But it’s especially Ona’s favorite animal. You wonder if she’s still looking at your race sometimes. Probably not. You never asked Patri who became your friend with the years, the girl never talked about your breakup either. You like it that way.

One hour after, you are on your bike, ready to start your race. Your helmet is a notch off from what security recommends, but you prefer to wear it like that. Ona had forbidden you to do so and you had accepted her request without flinching. But Ona isn’t here anymore, and you have no one to care about.

Well, your brother who is in your team maybe. And probably your parents, but even if you love them, they aren’t Ona.

The qualifying rounds put you in fourth place at the start, but after a daring overtaking you manage to get gain the third place. The weather is great honestly, a little bit sunny maybe but it’s better than the rain. You are in Italy after all.

The fight for the second place is hard, your opponent always manages to stand in your way to keep you from reaching it. It starts to frustrate you, even if your team keeps telling you in the helmet to take no risks. You don’t listen to them, still being careful not to make faults though, you don’t want to have any penalty against you.

“Lenta, hermanita por favor!” (Slower, my little sister please!)

You hear your brother’s voice but don’t listen to him either. He will probably kill you for it after the race , but if you manage to get the second place, it’s worth it right? Winning is the only thing that you have left. The only thing that makes you feel a little alive.

That’s why you don’t hesitate to take other risks to get the second place. Plot twist, you shouldn’t have.

It’s the first time since you’re a teenager that you lose the control of your motorcycle, but it’s a strange feeling. You feel yourself flying and the helmet getting ripped off your head during the crash. After that it’s all black, you just have little moments of consciousness from time to time.

“No no no no no! ¡ Y/N No me hagas esto! Respira por favor!” (Don’t do that! Breath please!”)

That’s your brother voice. You don’t know where you are, you hear people screaming and probably running next to you. But you are too tired. Falling asleep now probably will help you feel better, right?

“Sigue luchando. Piensa en Ona." (Keep fighting. Think about Ona.)

Ona? You think about her every single second of the day. You are surprised by this statement, but it has the advantage to wake you up a little. Your brother usually never mention your ex-girlfriend, knowing how much the breakup is destroying you.

“Alright we take her to the ambulance, now!”

If you were able, you probably would have rolled your eyes because of the strength that this man screamed with. You are not even able to open your eyes though, and you hate the way you feel your body not responding to what you want. But your head hurt and soon you are asleep again.

The next time you are awake, it was way quiet. You hear your parents and your brother, but you have to make a big effort to understand what they are saying.

“She called her name several times in the ambulance, but she’s asleep since”

Well, that’s embarrassing. It’s useless to wonder which name you called, there only is one woman in your head after all.

“Did you call her?”

Your mother.

“No. Y/N would have probably hated me if I did.”

Is he right? Maybe. You’ll think about it later.

“She has the right to know how Y/N is.”

Point for your father.

“I’ll call Patri instead.”

Well, it’s probably better that way. Patri is one of your best friends and if Ona wants to have news of you, she will ask Patri. But once again, she probably has no interest about your health anymore.

You fall back asleep again soon after that.

Patri’s face is white when she reaches the gym of FC Barcelona Femeni. It’s not Ona who realized it first, your ex-girlfriend is focused on her exercises next to Mariona.

“Patri you alright?” Pina asks, looking at her friend with worry.

Everyone raises their gaze on the girl, but she’s only looking at Ona. And Ona knows, right there. She gulps and stand up, her hand shaking.

“What happened?” Ona asks quietly.

But Patri takes her by the hand to take her out. She doesn’t want to explain to Ona what happened in front of the others. She doesn’t know how the younger one will react at the news, and she’s scared of her reaction to be honest. Every single person in the team know how much Ona is sad about your breakup, even if she’s the one who chose to have it that way.

“Y/N had an accident during the race” Patri starts, looking at Ona with attention. “I don’t know what her injuries are or anything else. But she has that awful crash, and they came with the ambulance and those kinds of white curtains.”

Ona knows what the curtains are for. It’s to protect the dignity of the runner in the case of a serious injury… or worse. Very worse. Her face passes from white to green.

“Is there a video from the crash?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to…”

But Ona doesn’t listen. Like you, she’s stubborn. She wants to know. She needs to know. She doesn’t know when the accident happened, but the video of it is easy to find on social media. She doesn’t react at all during several seconds and Patri wondered if Ona’s mind crashed, too.

“She loosened her helmet” Ona whispers at first.

“What?” Patri frowned.

“She loosened her helmet! She loosened her helmet and now she’s probably dead!”

Ona’s shouting and Patri prefer that, but it’s surprising. Ona isn’t the kind of girl who shout usually. She puts a comforting hand on Ona’s arm before talking.

“We don’t know that for now” she tries, with a comforting voice.

“Haven’t you seen the crash? Haven’t you seen of hard her head hit the ground? She didn’t move after that! At all!”

Patri doesn’t know what to answer at that. Ona’s right and she regrets to have inform her so soon, without having news of you. Or your brother, who had kind of a crush for Patri before realizing that she’s as gay as you are. You still tease him about it years later.

“I’ll try to call her brother, ok? But for now, let’s get out of here.”

When you wake up next time, you have enough strength to be able to open your eyes. You don’t know what time it is, but the sun is shining behind almost closed blinds. There is someone on a chair next to you, but you are disappointed to realize that it’s only your brother. Not Ona.

“Hola” he whispers when he realizes that your awake.

You only answer with a grunt, unable to talk for now. You feel sleepy again, but you want to talk with him a little bit.

“We are at the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

You close your eyes briefly to make him understand that you remember. Your throat feels too scratchy to talk for now. You’ll learn later that they have to intubate you to keep you alive.

“You’re lucky you’re alive, I’ll kill you a second time if you weren’t. They want to get you back in Barcelona tonight, are you okay with that?”

You don’t answer right away. Why can’t they keep you here?

“The team think it would be easier to be somewhere where they speak Spanish. And we will be closer to Mama and Papi.”

Your brother seems to understand your questions. It’s a great thing that you are both so close. You close your eyes again now and he nods before taking your hand in his. You don’t really care where you are taking care off after all.

“You can sleep now. You need to rest to get better, ok?”

You squeeze his finger softly before closing your eyes for good now, falling asleep again. You are still asleep during the transfer to Barcelona and when you wake up again you are in the Spanish’s city hospital.

Once again, it’s your brother who is here when you open your eyes. He changed his clothes but he’s still here, reading a newspaper with his feet on your bed.

“Don’t you have a house?” you groan.

He rolls his eyes after having looked at you for two seconds. Maybe to realize that he wasn’t dreaming. He threw carefully the journal next to you without putting his feet down, but everything is still blur.

“I can’t read it” you whisper.

“The Spanish’ motorcycle prodigy almost died in an awful crash yesterday. Her condition remains alarming” your brother read for you.

He’s angry. You don’t answer anything, what should you say anyway? You know that it’s your fault, if you were a little more careful nothing of that would have happened. You know too that you aren’t on the point to die, your brother wouldn’t have scolded you if that was the case.

“What are my injuries?” you ask without looking at him.

He sighs loudly before answering.

“You have broken ribs, a broken tibia, your cheekbone too, your elbow is in pieces, your shoulder has been dislocated again and you have a massive concussion. They thought that you have something broken in your spine, but it’s just a massive bruise. Oh, and you have other bruises almost on every part of your body, when it’s not burn because of the asphalt. They had to put stitches somewhere on your head and your brow bone too.”

you stay silence for several seconds, completely stunned. These are massive injuries, you know it. It will probably need a lot of time to heal all of them and that mean that you will miss the end of the championship. You were on the top 3, and it’s an awful disillusionment for you. You were already picturing yourself on the podium at the end of the season.

“How many time am I supposed to stay in bed? Before starting my rehab?”

He frowns softly, not expecting this question.

“They don’t know for now if you elbow will be well enough to start racing again”

“Of course it will be” you snort.

“No” your brother answer. “It’s serious, Y/N. You maybe won’t be able to drive a motorcycle again. On a circuit at least.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t have the choice. This is all I have left now.”

Your breakup was awful for you, but it was for your family too. You weren’t always careful with you, but Ona pushed you to be reasonable and stayed in the track. Now you don’t have anyone to hold you back. Ona was the only one you were listening. You don’t listen to anyone now. Only your Abuela when she when she emotional blackmails you. But your loved ones try not to use that card too much to not burn it.

“You have to stop that. You still have people who care for you. The Oldies do, I do, your friends do. I know that the breakup sucks, but you can’t play with your life like you do.”

“Piss off” is all you mumble back.

Because you know he’s right, but what are you supposed to do now that he’s here with you and you would give ten years of your life to swap him with Ona? He doesn’t answer anything, knowing that you’re out of arguments and that you know he’s right.

“Did she… Did she call you?”

“She didn’t have to” he answers after a moment of hesitation. “I called Patri as soon as we were in your hospital room in Italy.”

This hurt a little more, to be honest. You are not aware that Ona was with Patri every time she received a call or a message from your brother. You sight softly before closing your eyes. Your head starts to hurt like hell, which is probably normal for a concussion.

You wake up several hours later and you already know that it’s the night. There isn’t any noise coming from outside your room and no light from outside. But there is someone sitting on the chair next to you.

“Ona?”

It’s seems almost impossible, but it’s definitively Ona. You are able to recognize her silhouette in the dark after all these years passed with her. Even if you haven’t seen her in the last three months.

“It’s worse than anything” she mumbles, looking somewhere near your broken leg.

“What?”

“Not knowing how you are. I thought that break up with you will help me to stop worrying about your races, but it’s worse every time. I almost called you or messaged you before every race just to hear your voice, but I just couldn’t. And then I learned about your accident, and I have to live with the thought that you were dead for several hours.”

She raises her eyes on you, and you have trouble to support her gaze, even if you are in the dark.

“I’m sorry” you finally say.

“Really?”

She seems unconvinced and she has every right to be. She knows you, better than anyone.

“Well, I’m sorry that you were worried because of me. But as you see, I’m alive.”

She rolls her eyes and let her back go against the chair she is sitting on. You still feel strange, without knowing if it’s because of the drugs or because you are dreaming. You don’t have really anything to lose, so you ask.

“Is it real life?”

Ona looked at you with an obvious surprise on her beautiful face. God you missed her so damn much.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it real or am I dreaming?”

“Are you making the move where you ask me if I am an angel?”

You stupidly laugh before regretting it, your ribs protesting hardly. Ona seems alarmed when you groan in pain, putting your non-injured hand on it.

“I’m ok” you whisper, taking several small breaths, the big one would have been too hurtful.

“You are not” Ona mumbles.

She’s right.

“It’s less painful than the thought that I lost you.”

She sighs once again and looks at her fingers before shaking her head softly. You wanted to grab her hand, but she’s on your bad side and your arm is in that awful cast.

“Tell me what I have to do to have a second chance, Oni. I’ll do every single thing you’ll ask me. I swear. Please” you beg when she stays silence for several seconds.

“What if I ask you to stop your stupid moto?”

There is a challenge in her voice, and you know why. One time, she told you that she’s not even sure that if she asks you to choose between her and your sport, you’ll chose her. At that time, you didn’t know that she was serious, you thought that it was something she wasn’t thinking and said due to the fight. How wrong you were.

“I’ll do it” you answer without any doubt.

She seems surprised, looking at you with two big eyes. You have always loved Ona’s eyes, some people said that brown eyes are the most common and expressionless. They never have crossed Ona’s gaze.

“I saw what a life without you is Ona and I don’t want that life. I want you and if I have to stop my sport, I’ll do it if you still want me.”

She sighs and rubs her eyes. She seems tired to be honest, but maybe because it’s the middle of the night and that she’s supposed to be asleep right now.

“I didn’t break up with you because I don’t love you anymore. I still do and I think I will for all my life. I need you to be a part of my life too.”

Her words are melody in your ears, but you feel like there still is something else. Like if something was restraining her.

“But…?” you mumble, looking for her eyes.

“But I can’t continue like this. I thought you were dead.”

She’s crying now and your heart hurt like if someone just punch it. You move in the bed, trying desperately to touch her or anything to try to comfort her. Your ribs and your legs burn awfully, and you ignore your elbow hurting in protest.

“Ona I’m so sorry, I swear” you say, managing to take her hand in yours.

The position is awful, and you wonder briefly if you can throw up even if you haven’t eaten anything since almost two days.

“I didn’t think it will hurt you that way. Please don’t cry” you continue.

She shakes her head softly, kind of laughing between her tears.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you left me. And you blocked me everywhere.”

That point hurts, too. You weren’t even able to look at her social media to have news of her, you were reduced to follow fan’s account of her.

“I just couldn’t live with you popping randomly on my timelines. It hurts too much every time.”

You nod and that the gesture who make your position too hurtful. You roll on your back, trying to hold your whine of pain. But Ona sees it anyway and frown almost instantly.

“Do you want me to call them to have more painkillers?”

“Are they ok with you being here? I don’t want them to make you leave” you admit with a law voice.

There is a beam of silence.

“I won’t leave your side” she says in a comforting voice.

You want to believe that she means it for like all your life. But having her tonight is what you have best for now. So, you nod, closing shortly your eyes when she rings the nurses. The door is open only a minute after and you open your eyes again when you hear Ona’s voice.

“I think she’s ready for more painkillers” the brunette says.

“I will give some to you” the nurse says to you before adding something in your intravenous. “What hurts?”

“Everything” you admit softly.

She nods and gives you a smile in sympathy. You look at her doing her things, missing Ona’s small winces at your admission. The nurse starts to talk again when she’s at the door, ready to leave.

“You will feel better like this. After that it will be great if you try to eat something. You will be sleepy for now though.”

Your eyes fly to Ona who is already looking at you. She said that she will stay by your side, but does she meant while you sleep too? She probably has training or somewhere to go. A match to play? You don’t know which day is it anymore, the painkillers are starting to kick already, making you confuse.

“Ona” you manage to say.

“Sleep, Hermosa. I’ll be here when you wake up, ok?”

Two weeks after, you are finally leaving the hospital. You still have to leave in a wheelchair, much to your disappointment. But with almost half of your body injured, there is no way that you are able to walk with crutches.

The only positive thing is that the person who is pushing the wheelchair is Ona and that she managed to make it funny, sliding on it in the hospital’s floor. Your brother is following with your suitcases, smiling softly while watching both of you.

After learning that you will be alright, you parents went home in Mallorca two days before you were authorized to go home. They proposed to you to come back to Mallorca with them and you have to admit that you miss your island, but there is no way that you are somewhere Ona isn’t.

When you felt better, you had a very intense and long discussion about your relationship, both of your feelings, what you both expect from that said relationship and where you want it to go.

Ona is the one who will look after you on daily basis, but sometimes your brother will need to take you to your appointment when Ona is away or training. The end of the season is soon here, but there still is the Olympics this Summer so she has to prepare herself intensively.

Your girlfriend’s here, one month after, when you are in the doctor’s office for the worst moment of your professional life. Sitting next to you, she’s holding your hand when the doctor looks at you with an awful sorry face.

“I don’t know where to start” he begins, playing with the sheets on his desk.

“Just go straight into it, Doc” you sigh softly.

You know already that you will hate what is going to be say. Ona’s fingers stroking your hand help, but your heart is still beating faster than ever.

“You are making good progress, I saw that they removed your cast on your feet, but we are really concerned about your elbow. We don’t think it will be fit enough for you to be able to start motorcycle in a professional way anymore.”

You were waiting for it, but it’s still hurt to hear that. Motorcycle is the only thing you knew since you were a teenager, you never thought about doing anything else in your life. You swallow softly before passing a hand on your face. You did everything you can to be able to start again, followed every advice your team gave you. But it’s not enough.  

“I don’t know what to say” you finally mumble, looking at an imaginary point somewhere on the desk. “It’s all I know; I don't know how to do anything else.”

“I can pick you an appointment with our psychotherapist if you want to. It can help.”

“Can we leave? I’ll tell you if I want one”

For now, you just want to get out of this office and be able to breath some fresh air. Ona helps you to get up even if you don’t need help anymore. You suppose it’s a way to comfort you. You are glad for her. She doesn’t say anything while you are getting out of the building, but she doesn’t let your hand go when you lean against the railing once outside.

“What am I going to do, Ona?” you whisper softly.

She let go of your hand now, but it’s only to pass her arm around your waist and hold you close.

“Whatever you want mi Amor. It’s ok not to know now, but you still have a bunch of possibilities. We will figure it out together, yeah?”

She kisses your cheek, and you close your eyes, letting yourself being cuddle a little more. It’s not the same feeling that the one when you lost Ona. You know there is different exit doors, you just have to find the good one. Ona will be your light in the dark.

Several weeks later, you are in France. Not for a race, but for playing the WAG for your girlfriend who is playing the final today. She introduces you to others girlfriends/wife of her teammates and you get along great with everyone. You watched every single game in the stadium, and you were able to see Ona several times in between. You missed her and she was worried sick to let you alone at home, but you are pretty fine.

You are famous in the world of sport so it’s not a surprise that you are not able to skip some interviews while going to the stand to attend the finale.

“Y/N” said one journalist when he puts her microphone under your mouth, with an awful French accent. “You announced your retirement sooner this month because of your massive injuries. How are you feeling?”

“I’m still sad about it, of course. It wasn’t my choice and I think it makes it harder but I didn’t have the choice. I’m sad not to be able to finish the championship this year, I was really well ranked, but you know…”

You shrug, thinking that’s between his accent and yours, people on social media will have a great fun.

“Do you think you will come back in the motorcycle world one day?”

“Not as a racer obviously, but why not. I still need to figure what to do with my life, but first I have to heal correctly.”

“Thanks for your answers” he smiles. “Do you have a favorite for today?”

“Spain, obviously” you smile back.

“Have you a favorite player?”

You almost roll your eyes at that. Your relationship with Ona is a common knowledge for everyone, you are not hiding yourself. You both weren’t as famous before and you were posting without really thinking about it.

“Oh, I don’t know… Number two is pretty great” you smirk, looking at the jersey you are wearing.

You hear someone giggle in the background, and you are pretty sure to recognize Irene’s wife waiting for you with Mateo. You soon say goodbye to the journalist to find your place in the stand. You are sitting next to Ona’s family obviously and your family made the travel too. They are sitting next to other Majorcans people, Cata’s family and Mariona’s brother and mother aren’t far away neither.

When Ona smiles at you during the national anthem after looking around to find you, you smile back and say “T’estimo” to her. You know that she can’t hear you, but she easily can read it on your lips.

You don’t know what the results of this game will be, like you don’t know what you will do in several months. But you know you will be fine, because you will be with her.

Ona is your forever and you don’t want another.