#TW: Speech Impediment

[bewitchingomen]

Bit of Advice (to my father, mainly)

DON'T ever make a joke out of my speech impediment because depending on how my bipolar disorder is affecting me I will react very angrily!

[yeoldecryptid]

I can’t believe I have to say this, but here we are.

pre-mature autistic deaths are horrific.

The high supports needs autistic person who died in an accident wasn’t ‘a burden lifted,’ it’s horrific.

The autistic adult murdered by police because of their stimming and speech impediment wasn’t a situation where you can say ‘can you really blame them for being suspicious,’ it’s horrific.

The autistic person murdered during ABA therapy wasn’t involved in ‘a freak accident,’ they were involved in a horrific, impossible situation.

Stop treating them like they’re anything less.

[neonponders]

I’ve been playing a lot of Dreamlight Valley, so I need to wash this out of my head:

Tangled is the same, but they go full-tilt into the more mature stuff.

For instance, Rapunzel has little to no actual social skills (relatable), but this is most prominent in how she talks really fast when she’s excited. But Gothel calls this “mumbling.”

If this was a full blown speech impediment, her interactions with Eugene would be more critical to her travel because his experience with orphans (kids with little to no access to educational aids) would make him able to understand her.

Obviously her climbing and whip abilities with her hair would make her much more lethal. Does she have any functioning understanding of death? I’m not saying she wouldn’t be able to empathize/sympathize, but maybe seeing a full roasting pig at the pub, or coming upon roadkill would send Rapunzel into an existential crisis. Seeing old people for the first time, as well, because Gothel has never aged. And hello, foreshadowing toward Eugene’s death.

Maybe singing is really hard for her with her speech impediment, which leads to the discovery that it’s not about saying the words correctly; it’s about feeling. Rapunzel is always the one singing for Gothel to get her youth juice. Maybe because Rapunzel has to love the person to send her magic their way. Gothel could never summon it because she never truly loved Rapunzel.

This could be made clear in their showdown in the tower at the end. Gothel threatens controlling Rapunzel’s hair because she believes she’s always had ownership over it. But she can’t control Rapunzel at all. They both learn that together, but it costs Eugene his life. He doesn’t fall without freeing Rapunzel of her hair once and for all, obviously.

Gothel dies, boo hoo. Bonus points if Rapunzel uses her long brown hair as a rope to catch her as she falls from the tower. Rapunzel catches her, but it’s like a noose, and Gothel’s body makes the rope of hair go taut for the briefest moments before she disintegrates into dust anyway.

But that’s only part 1 of her journey because once she’s back in her kingdom and learning how to be a real daughter to her real parents, it becomes really apparent how living in a tower, only seeing one person every so often, has shaped her. 

We’ve seen how Mother Gothel left her alone most of the time. This means she’s very good at self-soothing, which is initially really good as a princess of a kingdom, because she can be given a task and go all the way with it. She’s used to reading or painting all day, after all.

But the maids come to the kind and queen with concern because...Rapunzel sleeps a lot. Part of her ability to self-soothe, means she can fall asleep anytime, and is used to sleeping far more than the average person, waiting in her tower for Gothel to come home.

Even though she likes walking through the town and castle, Rapunzel doesn’t have social batteries. This leads to outbursts and irritability. One minute, people are astonished at how childish the princess is. The next, they marvel at how intelligent, with her ability to read fast and memorize things. And then they find her downright scary because she is alarmingly strong, can manipulate fabric and rope like magical weapons, and has no fear of heights. Eugene has been called on more than once to go fetch the princess and talk her down (physically and emotionally).

Basically people are being asses and wondering if Gothel’s legacy remains in how she raised the princess to be an unpredictable monster.

One day, the king goes to the palace roof himself to get his kid, while the queen goes to her room to examine the damage of a tantrum that had the maids fleeing the scene. The queen figures out that the maids are constantly tidying up the room - which, to Rapunzel means undoing all of her artwork and completely disrupting her work stations. Rapunzel is still learning her way through her speech impediment, but who she is stands all around the room, and the queen thinks her daughter is an incredibly creative, beautiful person. No wonder she’s pissed at the maids for messing up her stuff.

The king pets his daughter’s hand, slow and soothing strokes as he talks to her about anything and everything. They can see the lake and how it stretches its arms into rivers across their kingdom. He tells her about the stars, about where their lanterns came from, how he and her mother changed the lantern festival to mark Rapunzel’s birthday. How they changed the entire kingdom for her, waited for her. He apologizes for everyone’s immediate attempt to return to old ways.

The princess is back, after all, they could do other stuff than obsess over the lost princess. Right?

“That’s not how being a parent works,” he soothes. “Everything changes after a new star enters our world. Everything is brighter. We see new colors. Regardless of what happened to you, to us, there was never any going back. That’s what being a parent means. It’s our duty to follow your light, at your pace. We collaborate with the sun. She does not obey us.”

[starbirdaltair]

my voice sounds weird on recordings. now, I know that's normal or whatever but it's like- it's weird. you can hear my speech impediments so much more, and my accent comes out so strong it doesn't even sound like us anymore. I get a lisp and can't pronounce things right, and you can barely understand what I'm saying.

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

A story of a lifetime spent growing together. To what end?

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

TW: Bullying based on disability. Death of a parent. Angst. Grief.

Hi Guys.

This has sat in my drafts for months and inside my head for even longer. There is no part 2 planned. This is angsty with fluffy moments. Be warned.

I think we can all agree the most heart wrenching media moment of all time is Toy Story 2 and the below song.

If you don't agree. Move along this is not for you.

Reader calls Alexia, Alex throughout this fic. That's based on this video. Cause I have never heard someone refer to that and I thought it was cute. Alexia refers to R as 'Conejito' as a literal translation of bunny - I have since realised there's a more vulgar translation of this which I'm ignoring. Ha.

Spoiler Alert - This story deals with the death of a parent. Which I went back and forth on writing. Something about it still feels ick to me because these are real people. I may delete. Everything within is based on my own experience of parental loss. And it comes from no place of malace or weirdness.

This also deals with a severe speech impediment - which again, I do not suffer from myself but have experience with and hope I have done the struggle justice for anyone who may suffer.

My spanish is google translate because I am an ignorant English speaker. Apologies.

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

You found yourself where you usually could be found, to anyone who would take notice. Which wasn’t anyone to your knowledge except for a few observant teachers. In the art room, in the back corner, working relentlessly at an easel that your favourite teacher would set up for you.

You had transferred into the school part way through term, and for the first few days as with most schools you were the new and shiny thing. At 12 a lot of the kids in school had known each other since birth and you were new fresh blood to entertain them.

That didn’t last too long though when they realised you weren’t actually that interesting.

Shy and quiet as you always had been, you kept yourself to yourself. Its not that you didn’t want to make friends. You did. You so desperately did. But you just didn’t know how.

You had a stutter. That never helped. Kids could be cruel. And with the move from your hometown to Mollet for your mum's job it had only gotten worse. 

Words felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw felt tight and you struggled to get your words out. They stuck in your throat and refused to move from there. 

The teachers were kind. Your peers were not. Your speech therapist was helping. You spent more time than any 12 year old should thinking about sentence structure and breathing techniques.

You knew your parents worried about you. Waiting for you to get home from school every day with worried glances and eager smiles; “Did you make any friends today niña?” your dad would ask, pretending to be casual, flicking through some book or another. “Not today Papi.” You would reply, never wanting to lie to your family, before happily jumping the couch next to him and starting to scribble in your notebook.

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

Because there was always tomorrow. And on an unusually rainy day for Mollet tomorrow came.

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

The door to the art room quickly opened and slammed closed. The noise jolts you out of your peaceful reverie. A tall brunette girl smashed her back against the door and a hand quickly flicked out to turn the lights off to the room.

She clearly hadn’t noticed you huddled in the corner as she slid down the door onto her butt. Closing her eyes she let out a deep sigh and rested her forehead on her knees.

You didn't know what to do.

You knew who she was. Of course you did. She was Alexia Putellas.

The Alexia Putellas. Futbol superstar. Well… the 12 year old playground version of that. The coolest girl in school. She oozes confidence. Was always surrounded by a gaggle of your peers. Never without a ball at her feet or in her hands. But she hadn’t noticed you. Arm still raised working on the canvas in front of you, vision now impeded by the dark she had forced onto the room by turning the light off. You froze. Mouth slightly agape and hand starting to sweat. You watched as she rocked her forehead side to side on her knees. Your arm became tired in its upright position and the noise of you plopping the brush back into the water jar seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. Her neck snapped up and you met her wide, hazel eyes that bore into you. “Oh! Lo siento, I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone else was in here.” She was met with silence. Your stutter affected you terribly on a good day. Nevermind your safehaven suddenly being invaded by the coolest girl in school. Who you had idolised from afar since arriving in Mollet. Her head tilted curiously as she took you in. You felt her eyes drift to the canvas behind you. “Did you paint that?” She stands to her full height, still keeping her distance from you. “Why are you painting in the dark…?” She asks curiously. Head still tilted. Faced with a direct question you couldn’t put it off any longer. You couldn’t delay the inevitable. “Y..y…you, tu…tu….switched off….” Changing the words you intended to use halfway through was a coping mechanism that your therapist had tried to get you to work out of your system. She called it masking. You called it getting by. You raise your hand and point to the lightswitch that she had flicked when she entered the room. She looks at you harder now. You feel her eyes boring into you and wait for the inevitable laughter. The pity. Maybe even the cruelty that you are used to when people hear you speak. You cast your eyes down, waiting for the blow. But you just hear a flick of a switch, and the darkness behind your eyelids lifting. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have switched it off if I had known. I was just trying to get away. I kicked a football at Senorita Lopez by accident in the gym. They won’t let me play outside in the rain. Idiotas” You lift your eyes at her gentle, lilting tone as a smile teases your lips. She's moved closer to you now. “You didn’t answer. Did you paint this?” Her hand comes out to hover over the lines of your still-wet painting. Carefully. Again, you’ve been asked a direct question. “Si.” you reply, quietly. You don’t struggle so much with single words. “By yourself?” she asked, aghast, wonder taking over her features. You nod in reply. “This is so cool! Show me!” A grin overtakes your features as you nod more enthusiastically. Glasses slipping down your nose. Pulling out a fresh canvas for your new friend. “Lo siento, I haven’t told you my name. My Papa says it's rude not to introduce myself…” she stands tall and thrusts out her hand. Very formally. Very practised. “I am Alexia Putellas Segura.” You pause for a moment, looking at her outstretched hand. You wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. And shake her hand. “A…A…” you grow frustrated with yourself, the words getting stuck in your throat. You pull your hand away but Alexia keeps her grip firm and nods at you encouragingly. “Al…Alex… Alex.” you give up. Eyes downcast. Maybe you can tell your papa you nearly made a friend today. “Alex! Cool! I’ve never had that nickname! Most people call me Ale. But it can be our thing. I know you, you are y/n I remember Senora Perez making you stand at the front of class. Show me how to paint! Please? ”  Alexia was not a good painter. She quickly got bored and distracted by the newspaper on the desk intended for a paper mache project which she screwed up together, fashioned into a football and then spent the rest of the wet lunchtime kicking around the art room aiming for various targets that she would shout out to you. 

You dutifully cheered at every successful hit of the target. That night as you climbed onto the couch next to your papa and he asked; “Did you make any friends today niña?”. You couldn’t wait to reply; “Si! Alex.” You missed the way his newspaper dropped ever so slightly, and he caught the eye of your mami who was in the kitchen. “Ah, Si? Alex should come for dinner! We would love to welcome him!” He replied, his delight even obvious to you. “No tonta… Alex is a girl!” you let out. In that hilariously moody way only 12 year olds can. You became inseparable. Alexia was your best friend. Complete and total opposites. She would spend wet lunches in the art room with you. She would drag you to the playing fields after school and on break and you would be a goalie for her. Which was really just you standing complaining about where you found yourself and you dived away from balls as she cackled out a laugh. She came round for dinner with your family most nights. You spent every weekend at the Putellas household, travelling to her football games, strapped up next to Alba in the back of the Putellas family car, scribbling away in a notebook as you drew landscapes that you passed. On the way home you would sketch and sketch, only slightly hindered by the weight of your gangly best friend as she slept on your shoulder.  Your art would sit on both family fridges. Alex’s football boots would litter both entrance ways. Your mami would pick Alba up from the junior school if Eli got stuck at work. Joint family dinners were the norm.

Your relationship evolved through the years. Easily. Blissfully. You grew together. You became taller, however still paling in height compared to your best friend. You got braces and had them removed, You wore contacts most days now instead of your thick rimmed glasses. Though you still could usually be found in the art rooms.

Alexia filled out, she became less gangly and more strong, after years dedicated to football and training. 

Your speech improved. Your stammer only comes out rarely and you know your triggers. You worked hard every week with your speech therapist but you always credited Alexia. She gave you confidence. 

No one at school would roll their eyes or laugh at you when Alexia was by your side. She didn’t rush you. She didn’t finish your sentences. Nothing was more formidable within your school walls than if Alexia had found out someone had made fun of you, or not been patient with you. She got in trouble countless times defending your honor. Even if the teachers hated punishing her for it. 

You maybe realised on some level that you were as important to Alexia as she was to you the day that caused her to miss the U15 School Championship final. 

One of the more idiotic older basketball boys had caught you in the hallway. Trying to impress his gaggle of followers he had tripped you up as you were on your way scurrying into the art rooms to finish the sign you had made for Jaume to wave at the upcoming championship final. You had fallen flat on your face, quickly moving onto your back and pressing yourself against the wall. It had been a while due to Alexia's influence but you had dealt with bullies your entire life and you knew you had to just make yourself small and wait it out. “Oh s-s-s-s-s–s-s-oooorry it w-w-w-as an a-a-a-a-accident!!” the boy taunted you, leaning over you and exaggerating your stutter. 

His spittle hitting your face and making you wince. He brought himself to his full height, which was impressive for a 16 year old and turned to his friends. “Honestly, how is she even in this school, she is so estupida!” His guffaw was matched by his followers however their faces quickly dropped as they looked behind their ringleader. “What did you just say to her?” a cold, terse voice entered the conversation. You didn’t see his face drop but you could imagine it. 

He quickly turned and looked at Alexia standing in the doorway. Sunshine behind her darkening your view. As she stepped into the halfway you took in the thunderous look on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her as angry. 

You barely recognised her. “I-i-i sai…” This time he wasn’t impersonating you. 

He knew he was fucked. She moved quicker than you had ever seen her move on the football pitch. The tall boys friends quickly scattered as she grabbed him by his shoulders. He may have had at least two foot of height difference on her but that quickly diminished to nothing as she kneed him squarely between the legs. He doubled over in pain as she landed blow after blow to his stomach. “Alex… stop.” you instructed, gathering yourself to your feet. 

Your voice cut through her rage and she immediately stopped her punches. He scurried off as soon as he was able to, no serious damage done apart from to his ego… and maybe his balls. She turned to face you after shouting some choice expletives to his back, face immediately morphing into one of concern, eyebrows furrowed as her hands cupped your face. “¿Estás bien?” She asked, seriously. Hands moving to check you over. 

“Si, Si, estoy bien.” you replied. “You shouldn’t have done that Alex.” you regarded her with sceptical eyes. 

Her brow furrowed further, “What should I have done then? He’s un maton, he hurt you. I taught him a lesson. I would do it again. I would. I am not sorry.” she said firmly as she moved your head beneath her chin and wrapped her strong arms around you. 

You tried to pretend that the butterflies in your stomach erupting at her protectiveness were a normal reaction to a friend. 

Right? She repeated the same platitudes the next day, but this time with Jaumes hand on her shoulder as she sat in the headmaster's office. The boy she had humiliated so happened to be the son of one of the school governors. The headmaster told the footballer and her father that if Alexia apologised to the boy then she would go unpunished, otherwise, he would be forced to stop any of her extra-curricular activities, including the interschool championship final. Which, as headmaster, he really didn't want to do when his school had their first chance of winning in over a decade. She refused. 

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

Badly. The guilt ate away at you as you both watched from the sidelines as the 5th goal against your team went in. 

She grasped your knee, and still watched the game. “Stop feeling guilty. I am still not sorry. There are more important things than football conejita.” 

You took a breath and placed your hand on top of hers. You turned to look at her incredulously. “I mean, very few. Football is still in the top 2. Food is 3.” she continued, deadpan. Forcing a laugh out of you. You asked her once, years after first meeting, one sleepover when you were both lying side by side on the Putellas trampoline looking up at the stars. Why was she so patient with you? When no one else was? She looked at you, dumbfounded, genuinely confused by the question. “You have a voice y/n. You deserve to be heard.” she replied. Moving into her favourite position which was pulling all of your weight completely on top of her. Your head rested over her heart. You could hear the thump thump thump against your ear. You hoped she couldn’t feel the fluttering of yours.  

It was that simple to her. “Plus you looked like a rabbit in the headlights when I barged in, you were too cute. Mi pequeña coneja”.

Your Alex. 

You transitioned from best friends into girlfriends at 16 with no fanfare. A shy kiss after a win at Alexia's latest championship sealed it. Her grin splitting her face. Yours matching when you realised your dreams could become a reality. Hands held tentatively in the backseat of Jaumes car as he smiled at the scene through his rear view mirror.  Days later, as you both stood in front of your mami and papi shyly holding hands you realised, squeezing the trembling hand in yours, that it was the first time you had seen Alex nervous. In all of your years of friendship.

Alexia still had her weirdly formal streak, the same as the day you met her, so you let her do what she felt she needed to.

“Senor y Senora y/l/n… “ she started, taking a breath. “Mi and y/f/n…”

Your parents caught your eye, dumbfounded. She never used their titles. They rarely heard her use your name. You were always conejito.

“Alexia… estimada…” your mami started, with kind eyes. You could tell she knew what was coming. You shook your head at her slightly, Alexia too caught up in her own moment to notice. Your mami let her speak.

“Mi and y/f/n…”

Your papi, however, was not as emotionally in tune as your mami, “Monito, what is going on? Why are you being muy loca? Have you got mi mija pregnant? I know you're an overachiever bu…” “Papi!” you screeched out, interrupting him. 

Alex stood mouth agape, face flushed as she looked to you for help. “Papi, Mami, Alex is tr…try…tryi… telling you that we’re together together.” you let out, raising your joined hands. Your mami let out a laugh behind her hands, your papi however stood and exclaimed, “Was that some sort of secret!? Dios Mio of course you are! We thought you had been for years!  You made me change your bedtime story from princesses to football-playing princesses on the day you met!  Why do you think your Mami makes you keep your door open when this one stays, Mija?” 

Now it's your turn to blush as your mouth drops open. As he passes Alexia he gently smacks her upside the head, ruffling her long brunette hair. “Now come on cabeza de bola, me and the guys from work are starting a 5 a side. I need your help on penalties…” You huff out a laugh as your girlfriend is dragged away, confused look stuck on her face - eyebrows adorably drawn and mouth furrowed and clinging to your hand until distance forces her to let go. 

Your mami settles her arm across your shoulders. “I’m happy for you Mija” she mutters, in her gentle tone as you fall into her embrace. “You’re going to marry that girl one day.” Even after everything that would happen and the hell you would feel, you thank God for the unseasonal rain in Barcelona that day in junior school.

And when she was sadI was there to dry her tearsAnd when she was happy, so was IWhen she loved me It wasn’t long after you made your relationship official that you had your first real test.

You knew something was wrong with your girlfriend probably before she did. You knew her like the back of your hand. Though it finally came to a head one early evening at the Putellas household.

You had both picked Alba up from school, and you had set out to making dinner in the Putellas kitchen whilst Alexia's parents were both stuck at work.

It was standard practice, occurring at least once a week. You moved through the kitchen with ease. The ease is what alerted you.

Usually, on nights like these, Alba would huff off to her room like any other pubescent teenager, head stuck in her phone and earphones firmly in place. Alexia however, would usually be found attached to your back, arms wrapped around you as you cooked, or sat at the breakfast bar, swiping chopped veggies til you hit her with a spoon to make her stop, rolling your eyes as she insisted she was a growing girl and she needed the extra.

No, this was too easy, you thought, as you moved around, you missed your big inconvenience in the kitchen and you made sure your pasta sauce was bubbling nicely and went to search for her. 

You find her in the living room, her large frame draped over the sofa, eyes mindlessly watching the TV. But you can tell she isn’t watching whatever is on. Ale isn’t a big TV-watcher. She's very rarely sitting still for long enough to concentrate. The exception being if you're in her lap, where she entertains herself by playing with your hair or tracing the lines on your palm. “Hey, amor, estás bien?” your voice brings her out of her thoughts, “Ey? Ah sí conejito, lo siento, is dinner ready?” she asks, making to stand, but being stopped by your hand on her shoulder.  “Ay, when did I become the hired help, ey?” you ask, trying to tease a smile out of your girlfriend. “Dinner will be ready soon. Tell me what's on your mind.” The thing about Alex is she’s an open book. People may think she is stern and serious but she wears her heart on her sleeve. You can always see her thoughts plainly on her face, so you know something troubling her. She knows she can’t hide it from you, so she doesn’t try. “I’ve been offered a professional contract.” She states, plainley. Your heart lifts for her. Your whole life Alexia has bled football. For many years she believed, and you did too though you would never admit it, that it wouldn't be possible to make a career from the sport. You don’t think you have ever seen Alexia as sad as when she aged out of the Barcelona FC teams. She was devastated. It was a harsh reminder that Spain wasn't the USA. The opportunities are not always available. But the thing you loved most about Alexia was her dogged determinedness. She would train in the morning, in the afternoon, between classes. You are overjoyed that all of that hard work has paid off. Something wasn’t adding up with her reaction, however. “Alex, that's amazing news!” you exclaimed, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “Why are you not more excited? Is it a bad deal?” “No, amor, it is a fair deal.” she sighs. You just look into her eyes, waiting for her to tell you what she wants to share. She takes a deep breath. “It’s Levante, I would have to move to Valencia.” Ah, you see. Your heart breaks at the sad frown painted on the usually stern face of your girlfriend. Your hand moves up to trace her eyebrow, forcing them to unfrown and moving down to cup her cheek. She leans heavily into the warmth of your hand, and damp eyes open, fixing to yours. “Oh Alex, it’s okay” you whisper. The truth is you had always known that with the career your girlfriend was destined to follow, that you would have to spend time away from each other. You already did. Alexia has often been away throughout your friendship and now your relationship for national camps. 

You had a very mature relationship for 17 year olds. Having been woven into each other's lives for so many years. You were part of each other's DNA. You knew how to manage the time without your girlfriend. You were both grade A communicators. You accepted that this would be different, and no doubt unimaginably hard for the footballer, her family was her life. But so was football. And you know you needed to encourage her to take this step. “It’s not okay!” she stated, firmly, sitting up straight on the couch. “It’s not fair! Finally I get what I have dreamed of but it comes at the expense of everything I love. Mi familia, Barcelona, you! Why can’t I have both? I don’t know what to do” “You go to Levante, Alexia.” you say, seriously, “This is a huge opportunity for you.” She looks at you incredulously and you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong. “Oh, so it is that easy for you? Si? You just let me go like it doesn’t even bother you!” You aren’t used to Alexia's stern frown being sent your way, usually it's aimed at someone in defence of you. Or at a goalkeeper.  You, however, know the brunette is feeling vulnerable, she has waves of insecurity at times, she puts so much pressure on herself it's inevitable, but you are always there to assure her of her worth, and your love. “You know that's not true, amor.” you say, tenderly, hand reaching into her brunette locks to sooth her. “I agree, it’s not fair that Barca don’t have a women's team but I have always known your talent would take you away from me, “ she opens her mouth to interject, “but I love you. And I know you love me. We are tethered. Forever. When, not if, you go to Valencia, we will make it work. You know we will amor, you can have both” “But I will miss you.” she whimpers, pathetically. “I will miss you every second. But it will get better, it’ll pass Alex.” Her head finds your neck as she settles in there. Her larger frame is quite comically draped over you. “Do you promise?” she lets out, weakly. And you don’t let a moment pass, “I promise.” and seal your promise with a kiss to the crown of her head. She moves her chin up and faces you, “Beso, por favour” she asks, who are you to refuse? You kiss softly, you don’t know how many minutes you are tasting her sweet lips pass before you are interrupted by a sulky 14 year old.  “Ewwww!”

Alba appeared, making the two of you split apart, her disgust at the scene she's found making you laugh as Alexia peels herself from you, rolling her eyes.

“I’m gonna tell Mami that you two were making out instead of feeding m…ahh!” Albas accusations getting lost as Alexia chases her around the living room, ready to fight in a way only sisters can.

A strange smelling odour fills your nose. Oh… Oh no. You rush into the kitchen to find your dinner smoking on the hob.

“Oi, Putellas diablos!” You stick your head into the living room where you find Alexia sat on her younger sister whilst she tries to battle off the huge weight she finds on herself. They both pause and look at you guiltily. “C’mon, shoes on, we’re going out to eat, on me, we’re celebrating!”

Both of them unite in cheers as they childishly jump up and run to the front door in glee, shoving each other out of the way to try to get their shoes on first as you watch, affectionately shaking your head.

It will be months later, after a summer filled with memories made with your girlfriend, days at the beach, trips to the market, lazy days at home and soft moments made in the streets of Barna, that you would find yourself alone in bed.

That was weird.

You had spent the day packing with Alexia, the sadness of moving away had started to be replaced with excitement from the tall girl. Her dreams were coming true, okay, it may not be perfect, she finally understands, but it's a step in the right direction.

She can’t believe that she's going to get paid to play football.

Paid. The evening after a long day of packing was spent having a family meal at the Putellas household. Your family is also in attendance. It was a loud and joyous affair and it helped to keep the sadness out of your girlfriend's eyes. After a long evening of sombremesa Alexia had insisted on coming back with you to your parents to your house.

She didn’t want to spend her last evening in Barcelona in her empty bedroom, instead finding solace in yours. You had both talked into the early hours, in the arms of each other, trading soft touches and exchanging breaths until sleep took you. You pretended for her sake that you couldn’t hear her rattling breaths or feel the dampness of her cheeks on your fingers.

Now, however, you were alone, and unsure at what woke you up. Until a tapping comes to your attention. You sit up in bed and hear it again. What is that? You get out of bed and go towards your window, yep, there it is again, coming from outside. You throw open the curtains and peer out into the moonlit garden.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but you can’t take that moment because you suddenly are hit squarely in the face by a pebble. 

“Ouch.. what the he…” you stand suddenly and bang your head on the window frame “Ow, Fuck!” “Ay Dios Mío, lo siento amor! I didn’t see you had opened the window!” Alexia's panicked voice reached your ears, why was she in the garden? What the hell was going on? “Are you okay conejito?” You take a moment to steady yourself and your mind into your new and abrupt situation. “Conejito?” “Yes, Alex, I am fine. What are you doing out there?” You’re met with silence. “Al?” The tall brunette is scuffing her foot against the pebbles of the garden that she had previously been launching at the window. “I don’t want to say. I feel stupid now.” You arch your eyebrow in her direction. You don't think that she can even see it but she knows what's aimed in her direction. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. And also sad. And muddled. And I will miss you so much so I was just imagining how good it will feel when you visit, or I visit. Or when I score a goal and you’re watching. Which I know you’ve seen but now it's my job.” she rambles, pausing momentarily to take a breath. 

“Anyway, I thought about how cool it would be if I came to visit and woke you up by throwing stones at your window like in a film! You’d love that! Then I just couldn’t wait to do it. So here’s me, doing it. I’m being romantic.” She throws a crooked grin up at the window and your heart literally melts. “I..I….” and you promptly burst into tears. “Oh no mi amor no! Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to throw a pebble at your face! I’m sorry!” she gestures towards you with her hands frantically. “It’s not that Alex, you’re just such an idiot. And I love you so much. I am going to miss you so much. Get up here.” needing her arms wrapped around you. She nods vigorously and makes to climb the trellis that goes to your window. “No you idiot! Use the door! You have a key!” “Oh yeah.” you hear her mutter to herself before she scurried back inside. As you’re settled back into her warm arms, her huge hands palming through your hair. “That was very romantic Alex.” you mumble and you practically hear her purr with pride at herself. “Next time though bebe, use your key, I would much rather you be here in bed with me.” “Noted.” she mumbles into your skin, wiping away the tears that you can’t stop from rolling down your cheeks. Alexia got settled into her professional team quickly and efficiently, she was one of the youngest but easily the most talented on the pitch. You would travel up with Jaume religiously at the weekends wherever you could, your time in the week spent busy with the Art College you had enrolled in. Alba sometimes tagging along when you bribed her with snacks.

As promised you were there when she scored her first professional goal, her beaming smile sent directly to you and Jaume in the stands, stood cheering for her. You witnessed her wide eyes, after the game, as you stood waiting for your celebratory hug and maybe a cheeky kiss, when she was stopped by a little hand. “Hola.” the small girl had to crane her neck to look up at your girlfriend. She was shaking with excitement. “Hola?” she replied, confused. “Can I have your autograph por favour?” she asked, sweetly. Alexia just stood there, like a sim. 

You stepped forward with your notepad and drawing pencil that you carry everywhere, you had more drawings of inside a football stadium than anyone would need. You ripped out a page and handed Ale the pencil. “Of…of course?” She scribbled down her autograph for the young girl who beamed and ran away holding it above her head to show her mami who picked her up in glee. Alexia's wide eyes stared at you. “Did you see that?” “I saw that bebe, I handed you the pencil. I also saw your goal, superstar!” You couldn’t control your grin, which was mirrored by your girlfriend. “You played so well! Alex!” You're interrupted as she drags you over the fencing and pulls you into a bear hug. Her face nuzzled into your neck, her body vibrating with excitement. “I scored for you conejito!” she says “Well, hija, I won’t be offended, I have only been to every game you’ve played for 10 years” Jaume appears above you both still in the stands, smiling teasing his lips. “And you papa!” she releases you and pulls her papa into a hug. Dragging you back in after a moment before declaring that her first goal means that she deserves pizza and ice cream courtesy of her papa. 

Through the summer and the fall We had each other, that was all Just she and I together Like it was meant to be

You finished your college course and your love for art had never died. You made the trip to Valencia wherever possible to see Alex and she came back to Barna at least once a month to see her family and you on an off weekend. You would spend those weekends living at Alexias house, soaking up every moment together as much as possible. 

She would bring her clothes home for Eli to wash as she was useless at anything practical. You would make sure that you would always snag a sweater of hers before it was washed and keep hold of it, soaking in her scent before you could swap it out again. Alexia, used to pretend she hated it, they would always be returned with paint stains around the cuffs which would harden and she said irritated her skin.  You tried to be more careful but you didn’t stop stealing them.

You saw the same amount of her family as before she moved away, your lives had been so intrinsically linked that you had become an honorary Putellas, and she was a part of your family. You hung around with Alba and you helped Eli with her shopping when her car broke down. You were family.

Weirdly enough, it was you that met Alexia's future best friend first. After college, you started to make money from your art by being a live artist at weddings.

You knew your parents were worried about what you would do with your art. Teaching was the obvious choice but with your speech issues, it was your idea of hell.

This was perfect.

It was a niche business but you got paid well and you loved it. You got to go to weddings for a job. You got to capture people's joy on the most important day of their lives.  You would sit in the corner with an easel set up, sketching and painting guests, the dance floor, the top table. And you could immediately give your paintings to the couple and their guests, the validation was enormous, you were good at what you did. Discreet and professional.

You soon get a client list for miles and the money starts to pour in.

It was at one of these weddings that you met Mapi. She caught your eye during the speeches and you started to draw her outline. She was clearly very very gay at a very straight wedding. But it wasn’t just that that caught your eye, her tattoos intrigued you. And you loved sketching them and adding hints of colour here and there.

She looked up at you and caught you sketching, as guests often would, you were able to not let it distract you, ever the professional you offered a gentle smile.

“You like football?” a heavily accented voice reached your ears as you were adding the finishing touches to the dancefloor scene that was set out before you.

“Que?” It wasn’t often that guests interacted with you, but sometimes it happened.

“Your bag, FC Barcelona? That's not usual for a pretty girl like you, to like football.”

“Ah, Si.” You reply, your eyes not moving from your painting. “It’s my girlfriends.” you reply, emphasising your relationship status, not wanting a moment of confusion.

“Ah, boo, you have ruined my fun.” She replies, “Maria Leon '' She introduces herself, hand out for you to shake, you don’t take her hand, handing your paint-y hands up. She holds her hands up in surrender. “I see, I see. FC Barcelona though. Good team. No women's team though.”

“No, but there will be, and my girlfriend will be their top scorer when it happens”  you reply confidently. “You seem so sure?” “I am.” She lets out a laugh. “I can’t argue with that, then I will be their best defender” she offers a huge smile. Mapis smile is magic and makes you smile.

You and Mapi become firm friends. She talks. And talks and talks and talks. You don’t know how she has so much to say. But she is fun and she is kind. Your stutter makes an appearance as it sometimes does but it is perfectly offset by her inability to stop yapping. You don’t feel a pressure to fill the silence because you know she will. 

Years later, at a supercup final, you will both laugh about your first conversation. About how both of your statements came true. Turns out, people paid well for authentic paintings of their favourite moments. And as a young adult you found yourself with enough money to get yourself a small apartment in Mollet. You loved it. And you loved the independence it brought you. You think that was the happiest time of your life. You would spend days on your sun drenched terracotta tiled balcony. Painting watercolour and sketching the scenes both in your mind and your view over the square that your apartment was on. You had quite the online following and would get some commissions for your art which brought you a sense of purpose and joy. The absolute best time was when Alexia had a free weekend, or a break, she would stay with you and you would live in domestic bliss. It was an unspoken agreement. No question that she would make her base for her time back at your apartment. Even when she wasn’t there you wouldn’t sleep on her side of the bed. More of her clothes made their way into your closet. More of her sweaters would get paint marks on them. You would cook together, sing together, dance together in your small kitchenette. Feeling happy and in love as only young people can. Nothing gets between you. Training had been kind to your girlfriend, and you struggled to keep your eyes off her as she would do basic tasks. She was thick. For want of a better word. Her gangly limbs had become pure muscle, her back would ripple when putting on a t-shirt, you would find yourself staring at her forearms as she would cut vegetables. She knew what she did to you and she loved it. Often sending a wink your was and sending you into more of a stuttering mess then usual, heat climbing to your face. You felt your heart grow as you would go shopping for groceries together. Take strolls in the square, you sitting on a bench and sketching as she inevitably got herself involved in a football game with the local kids. Her favourite time of day would be Friday nights. Often, if she was lucky, she would be scheduled an early kick off on fridays. You would travel back from the game together with her papi. You took the backseat as you knew you would monopolise her time back all weekend. Giving her a chance to catch up with her family. You would get home, she would shower whilst you made a light dinner, both taking it in on the balcony before moving inside and settling on the couch. She would put on some illegally screened recordings of the game she had played in. But she would mute it as she pulled you into her chest. You would have a sketchbook in hand and continue working on your art, or a piece from a wedding that needed finishing up. You always told her the commentary wouldn’t distract you. But she insisted. Once finally saying, “I like the sound of your pencil, it soothes me, and sometimes you trace the sketch on my leg with your free hand. It gives me goosebumps. I like it.” you never asked again. You argued, of course, like any couple did. But it never lasted long. Alex would get angry when she would find paint in the sink, and you would struggle to share your space at first. But you never went to bed in a fight. Even if you tried to be stubborn your body would fail you and you would gravitate towards her in the moments before sleep, muttering your apologies or forgiveness. In those early days of young adulthood it would be the only time in your relationship where you had more money than Alex. 

Football did not pay well. It did not pay a living wage. 

You didn’t care. 

You felt privileged every time you scanned your card for the groceries, or paid for dinner on a date. You knew she hated it though. “One day conejito, I will give you everything life can offer, I promise” she would whisper into your skin whilst she tried to make it up to you in other ways. You would always tell her you had everything you needed right there with you. It was perfect. Life was perfect. You had friends, a stable job, the love of your life. Yes, distance was hard, yes, each time she left you would cry and hold her tighter to you, but you knew it wasn’t forever, and you never felt that distance in your relationship. You grew together, like a plant, your love was carefully cultivated in experiences and shared memories.

And when she was lonely I was there to comfort her And I knew that she loved me

You had never felt sadness like it. It was all encompassing. You couldn’t get away from it. You were sad for your chosen family. You were sad for your own family. You were sad for yourself. But you were devastated for your girlfriend. You didn’t know what to do with so much sadness. You couldn’t hold it in, but you couldn’t let it out. You needed to be strong for your girlfriend. Who was walking around as a shell of the person that you knew her to be. Well, that was when she was walking, she would throw herself into her childhood bedroom and stay there silently for hours. You would be okay with it if she was sleeping, but she just stared at the wall aimlessly. Her Papa was her inspiration. The reason she got into football. She would look up to him even as she towered over him. And it was so so cruel that he had been taken away from her in such a manner. A week after Jamues passing you found yourself next to Alexia at his funeral. It was a beautiful affair, a celebration of the life of a man who loved hard and was loved hard. The morning had been difficult, you had ironed Alexia's dress and set it out for her. She took your instruction like a small child, you brushed her hair straight and pulled it out from her face. You struggled to speak. Such immense grief you felt the words became garbled in your mouth, rendering you mute. But you didn’t want any pressure on Alexia. 

You knew when your stutter made an appearance she would drop everything, concentrate on doing your exercises with you, hand automatically cupping your jaw and massaging the soft area beneath your ear because she knew that relaxed your facial muscles. So you both moved around silently. That morning. As you guided her around what needed to be done. As you packed her bag with tissues you hoped that you needed to use them. You hadn’t seen her cry since she rushed home from Valencia to the news. So no, you didn’t know what to do with your grief. You loved him too. He was the first person you had loved and lost. You had your own special relationship built from long car journeys and shared snacks. He would put your art on his fridge like you were one of his own. He was kind and he was half of the person who you loved to your core. God. If you felt like this. You don’t know how Alexia was still breathing. You had been spending all week as the Putellas household. Not leaving Alex's side. But also not leaving Alba, who would lean heavily into you of an evening, seemingly crying all of the tears that her sister couldn’t. It felt healthy though, through the tears you could share memories and make her laugh. You would go to bed with Alex and the silence would continue. When you were sure she was asleep you would sneak out of bed and grab your sketch pad, settle into the corner of the room and just let it out. Her dad told you once at a game how his father worked as a coal miner. He said it proudly, he adored hard work. That's where Alexia got her devotion from. It was a passing moment, a memory that you didn't even know you had. But it stuck with you as you went into the Putellas garden and took a lump of coal from the barbeque and settled yourself into the dewey grass. Hand not stopping over your sketchpad and tears rolling down your cheeks.

The night after the funeral you stayed at your own parents house. You couldn’t handle the loneliness of your own apartment. You didn’t want to intrude at the Putellas residence, and you hoped that maybe some time with her family would be what Alexia needed to open up. You were right, but not in the way you imagined. A soft clink, clink, clink, woke you up, This time you were not frightened. You had heard this noise before. You immediately jumped out of bed and ran to your window, showing it open and shoving your head out. “Alex! What are you doing here, why didn’t you use your key?” The brunette looked up at you with sad eyes, you saw she was in her pyjamas, eyes sideways showing no car, she had walked here. “I forgot it.” she let out, morosely. “Oh mi amor, no p..p..problem, hold on I will come down and let you in.” before you had a chance to bring your body back into the house you heard her again, “You left me.” your heart cracked into two. You didn’t reply but instead hurried downstairs into the moonlit garden. She stood there, with all her muscle and height, looking everything like a toddler who was lost in a supermarket. You took her hand in yours and used your other to cup her cheek. “Oh, mi amor I didn’t leave you, I thought you wanted some space.” Maybe you expected her to agree, maybe you expected her to disagree and shout at you for getting it so wrong. You didnt realise that you were to her, like an umbrella in the rain, protecting her from the downpour. With you gone she drowned in the grief. You didn’t expect her lip to tremble and her to burst into tears. “I want my papa.”  Those 4 words broke your heart as you huddled her into your arms, rocking lightly to bring her confort. There was nothing you could say, you just brought her into your bed and held her as she cried, painting her skin with whispers of your love “I know, bebe, I know, I promise it’ll pass, I promise, and I will be here. The pain will go. It will pass Alex and I will be here.” It became a mantra that you whispered into her skin.

As she calmed down you took a moment to think. As you got out of bed and she groaned in annoyance you hushed her with your lips to her skin. “Un momento, mi amor, I have something for you.”

You presented it nervously, unsure of the reaction you would get.

It was a framed picture that you had created. Not like your usual artwork as it was made from coal. Coal from the Putellas barbecue to be exact. It was a sketch of a man in the stands of a football stadium, somehow, eyes beaming with pride, laugh lines visible on his face. A footballer with a long ponytail and similar features jumping into his arms.

It was a scene you had witnessed hundreds of times throughout the years. You didn’t need to see it again to create it. The coal added a haunting and beautiful dimension to it. When you explained your reasoning Alexia looked deeply into your eyes. Holding onto the frame with white knuckles like her life depended on it.

“I love you.” 

And when Alexia scored and helped her team to win the U19 Championship for her country not 3 weeks later. Celebrating with eyes to the sky, fingers pointed. You knew that, eventually, she would be okay. 

So the years went by I stayed the same But she began to drift away I was left alone Still, I waited for the day When she'd say, "I will always love you"

It was as though it had been destined for years but finally finally the news came that Barcelona FC would have a women's team. Mapi had texted you with glee when the news broke out, she knew that she was stuck in her own contract but the fact it existed made it a possibility for her dreams to come true. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, was a free agent. You thought, privately, that even if she wasn't a free agent that she would break every law on planet earth to play for her childhood club. She was offered a contract and signed without any hesitation. A mist in her eyes at the missing presence in her signing photos. You drove with Alba to collect her and all her things from a year in Valencia directly to your apartment. As you unpacked her stuff, Alba on a food run with money you had shoved into her hand, your small flat suddenly felt full. “Alex,” You called, from the living room, you heard her shuffle around and pop her head into the bedroom where you stood, surrounded by boxes. “Si, conejito?” she asked, breathlessly. You took in her smile, that you had missed over the months, the light in her eyes, the ease of her movements. “I am just asking, I don’t actually remember asking you to move in?” You say, teasingly, gesturing to her boxes surrounding you. It was true, you hadn’t, it had just been assumed by both of you, as well as both of your families. A blush rose up her neck, “I mean… I-i-..”. You burst out laughing. “I am just teasing you”. A glint in her eyes took over and you had half a second to brace yourself before you were tackled by an almost 6ft wall of muscle. You landed gently on the bed with a thump. “Well, light of my life. I think it’s too late for that. Maybe I can make up for my rudeness.” Her voice takes on a sultry tone, attacking your neck with kisses, making you groan. “No, No, No, No, stop it you two! Why is this my life!” Well. Alba was back, You groaned as Alexias full body weight fell onto you as she heard her sister. You had a feeling you both had plenty of time to make up for it. Living with Alexia full time was natural. You had obviously had practice from the year she spent in Valencia but you didn’t realise how easy it would be. You knew where to step to not fall over her boots in the hallway without looking. 

You amended your grocery show to include all her weird protein-packed foods. She would help you get ready for work in your evening gowns that you had to wear to fit in at the weddings, and she would stay up to make sure you got home safe and listened as you babbled on about your favourite parts, all the while taking it in for ideas for your own wedding. You continued to make money at weddings, Alexia rose through the ranks at the new Barcelona Femini team. Quickly establishing herself as a calm and serious captain. 

She took her role seriously,  she would study games religiously at home as you would paint or sketch. Your easel set up in the living room or on the balcony. She would rub your shoulders as you painted, eyes set on the TV at the game. The shared time doing your own activities matched you both perfectly. And just like that, years passed. Years in domestic bliss. Spent together and with your families. Vacations in Ibiza and even a pet cat called Pablo Petcatso, or Pabs for short, entered your little family unit. He was a ginger cat who loved a cuddle and loved getting into Alexia's kit bag, he even made it to the training once or twice, and you had to drive over there to pick him back up. Dragging him away from 22 cooing footballers. 

Women's football grew, as did Alexia's paycheck. And with that, you think, looking back, as did the cracks in your relationship.

“We're here!” Alexias excited voice explained, you had pulled up outside a tall apartment building in the centre of Barcelona. She hadn’t shared with you where you were going. Insisting it needed to be a surprise.

“And where is here?” you looked up at the towering glass building above you, you didn’t come into the city much, you preferred the quiet of your suburb.

“You’ll see, you’ll see!” Her excitement was catching, and you found yourself giddy as the elevator took you further into the skies of the city.

“Ta-da!” She presents a huge open plan space before you, the glass fronted living room has views over the city to the sea. You could count at least 3 bedrooms from where you stood in the hallway. The kitchen was sleek, straight lines and clean granite. 

“What is this place?” you ask, confused, taking in your surroundings. “It's our new apartment!” What? “What?” you breathe out. “Don’t you love it?!” Alexia remains giddy, her excitement not fading and she fails to notice your unenthused reaction. Your mind whirred. “Come look, come look!” she grabbed your hand, and pulled you further into the apartment. Proudly presenting each room to you. “And this room. I thought you could have it as your art studio!” “Art studio?” you whisper. “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool, and so much space. Now I wont get cross at you for getting paint all over the kitchen! Pabs will have so much room to explore!” She turns around and pulls you into her embrace, you are still shellshocked at everything presented to you. “I promised you, didn’t I? I would give you the world conejito.” Her eyes are so bright with joy, the smile so wide on her face, you couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the sleek lines, the large space, and the modern kitchen were beautiful. You didn’t see it for yourself, you preferred your terracotta tiled balcony and your plants overtaking your kitchenette. You loved painting in your living room when Alexia would watch a match. Pabs crawling over your shoulders, your little bubble with your family. But you could see how proud Alex was of herself, of what she had achieved. You must have taken a moment too long, as her eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it.” you said, plainly, “No… No Alex, I do! I was just so surprised. I love it, and I love you.” “Yeah?” her eyes brighten again. You kiss her lips softly, “Yeah.” “Good! And think conejito, maybe one day there would be room for a bigger family?” she asks, shyly. Your heart melted as you nodded frantically and threw yourself into her embrace. As Alexia's career grew, so did the pressure on her. She was often away, it was something your whole relationship had survived, but now, being away with both club and country, as well as in an apartment that had never truly felt like home. You felt lonely. You would come home from weddings with only Pabs to greet you, you would create art in your studio without the background noise of Alexia watching a game, or preparing a smoothie. She would do that in the living area. Nights together were rarer. Your love never dimmed. Alexia showed you in her every movement that she adored you. Date nights, whilst few and far between, were the highlight of your week. Though that soon became the highlight of your month. The one saving grace during this time was that Mapi had finally joined Barcelona Femini and you took it on yourself to be her personal Barcelona guide. As Alexia's fame grew, you shied more into the background. You weren't an extrovert. You would never hide your relationship and you never asked Alexia to but the only social media that you had was that to promote your artwork. Meanwhile, Alexia's followers grew and grew. A few crazed fans had deep dived into her archives and knew of you but that was only a portion of the fanbase. She hated the delving into her private life, and that caused her to stop posting anything of you onto her public accounts. Any trace of you, gone. Before being a footballer, in Alex’ mind, she was your protector, that hadn’t changed from 15 years ago. With 2021 came great change. All of the years of dreams and hard work had paid off and Barca had reached the champions league final. You travelled to Gothenburg with Eli and Alba, a nervousness in your stomach more than usual. For both your girlfriend and your best friend. You celebrated the win with a euphoria you had rarely felt. Everything felt worth it. The lonely nights, the travel around the country, the sacrifices you had to make as the partner of La Reina.

And as she pulled you into her arms after the final whistle, and pulled you over the barricade the same way she did when she scored her first professional goal your heart couldn’t swell more with pride. You don’t want to say that Alexia changed after the Ballon D’or. Because she didn’t. Well, maybe she did, she suddenly sported bright blonde locks which, you admit was sexy, but you missed the softness her natural hair gave her face. By the second Ballon D’or you thought maybe it was you that changed. Maybe it was you that put up a barrier. One that couldn’t be identified easily. But with study it could be noticed. The problem was that Alex wasn’t there to notice. Yeah, you were together, you did things together, you made love and you made memories. You went back to Mollet regularly and ate with your families and you went to games with Alba.  But Alexia was busy. She had brand deals, she had interviews, she had achieved her dream of being the best footballer in the world. You knew she was since you were 12. But now the world knew too. And the world wanted her attention. 

Oftentimes she was exhausted when she got home. She didn’t want to cuddle on the couch. She didn't want to walk around the plaza. She didn’t want to hear about your day. She would ask, but you could tell her mind was elsewhere, in some contract somewhere, so you started to lie. To give answers which would satisfy her without arousing suspicion. Always trying to put her ease first. 

You would decline for nights out with her teammates, you even lied once or twice and said you had a wedding to paint, just to avoid suspicion. Alexia would take your answer as the truth, and kiss your cheek lightly as she left the apartment which quickly felt like it had become your prison. Mapi could see through you. She would try to get you to talk, but she was Alexia's team mate. Alex was her captain. It didn’t feel right to discuss your relationship issues with her. Not when you wouldn’t even talk to the woman in question about it. You found yourself in the familiar seats of the Johan Cryuff stadium taking in the first home game of the new season. Alba and Eli by your side. The first game was always a family affair. With the Putellas cousins in attendance, a restaurant booked for this evening for you all. It was an easy win for the Champions of Europe. And as you stood with Mapi and her new girlfriend Ingrid at the end of the match chatting, Patri bounded over, sweat on her brow and joy in her eyes. “Hola Senora La Reina” she teased you, kissing your cheek, you had been around the team so much that they all knew you well. “Ay, Idiota, hands off” and large, familiar hands wrapped around your middle, a kiss planted to your other cheek as you melted into her embrace. “Congrats bebe” you muttered, craning you neck you see her looking down at you with a smile. “Senora Reina, you’ll come out for drinks with us to celebrate the win, won’t you?” Parti asked, full of joy. 

The attention of the 4 footballers on you suddenly unsettled you. Maybe it was the busy environment. Maybe it was being with Ingrid who you’d only met a few times. Maybe it was Alexias hands around you for the first time in what felt like months. But you struggled to get your words out. “Ah, gra…grac…gracias  for the invite diablo, but m…m…me…” “She’s coming out with mi familia Patri, it’s tradition! You know that! Vamos, I will come out quickly for a drink then join you all, conejito” Alexia interrupted you, planted a final kiss on your cheek and headed to the changing rooms. She didn’t feel you freeze in her embrace. She didn’t see Patri and Mapis expressions change. She didn’t see Ingrid's look of confusion. You felt sick. You felt like you were about to burst into tears. Your throat burned and you struggled to swallow. 

You felt small. You shuffled your feet on the ground and looked up to see Mapis' face had grown furious, her girlfriend's arm had come to rest over her shoulders, trying to settle her but unsure why. You went straight into damage control. Alexia has protected you your entire life. She had never interrupted you, she knew you couldn’t stand when people would finish your sentences. It was the worst thing you could do to someone with a stutter. She knew that. You don’t know why Alexia's endless patience ran out that day. But you knew you wanted to protect her from your best friend's rage. You knew it would happen one day, you just wish it had happened without any witnesses. For both of your sakes. “Mapi, it's fine.” “It is not fine!” Patri backs away from the situation with a kiss to your cheek and an apologetic look. “I don’t know what's wrong with her lately. I am going to kill her…” she moves towards the changing rooms but you pause her with a soft hand. “Maps, please don’t. It’s f…f…okay. I am okay. Ju…just go get changed and go on your night out. I will t..text you tomorrow. Please.” You look to Ingrid for help, you don’t know her well but she has the power over Mapi seemingly, and as she guides her to the changing rooms the small Spaniard seems to settle down. 

Not enough though, apparently, because as soon as she sees her captain again, a flicker of that rage comes back to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” Mapi hisses to her captain, “Maria, stop” Ingrid tugged her by the elbow, trying to take her away. Alexia looked up from her phone with a look of indignation, yes she was Mapis friend but she was still her captain, and they were in front of the whole team. Her defensive wall immediately came up. “Discuple?” Her eyes cast across the changing room, their team mates continued to get changed and pretended they weren’t eaves dropping into the mini argument that had developed.

“I said, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mapi spat out. “Why did you interrupt her?” Something in Alexia's stomach dropped. Her hands become clammy, her body reacting to the accusation before her mind could. “What? I didn’t. I would never.” she whispers in reply, but more to herself. “No, No I didn't.” she said more surely, somewhat desperately. 

Mapi takes in her best friend's demeanour, the usually stoic and strong captain looked devastated, maybe even petrified? Mapi knew what she had done, but could see that Alexia would punish herself more than Mapi ever could. She stepped away, guided by Ingrid. Leaving Alexia to replay the last 10 minutes, desperately. Mapi saw the moment that realisation came to the Catalan Captain, as she bolted out of the changing room, hair damp, throwing her shirt on as she sprinted back into the stadium. Which is where she found you, moments later. You were sitting in the friends and family section, Alexias new baby cousin settled onto your knee, playing with your hands and babbling to himself. You made cooing noises and spoke softly to him and all her Tias and Tios got rounded up for your meal out. You felt her presence behind you, you could practically feel her anxiety coming off her in waves. You looked back quickly and confirmed your suspicions, her blonde hair damp and wetting her shoulders, her foot twisting against the concrete floor, hands knotted together and bottom lip drawn into her lip, chewing anxiously. “It’s fine Alex.” you said, as you turned, attention back on the baby in your lap. She must have seen this acknowledgement as her body surged towards you, she loudly collapsed into the seat next to you, the anxiety coming off her in waves. “Conej…” she started. “No Alex, I pr…pr… I swear. It’s okay. But I’m currently holding the ba…bab…ba… child.” you take a sigh. “I am holding the child and I don’t want to cry so p…please. It’s okay.” If it's possible. She looked even more devastated. Her whole face collapsed. She hated when you would revert to old techniques to speak, by changing up your words mid sentence. Alexia was your protector. It was her proudest badge. Before she was a footballer, in her mind, she was your partner. And she had let you down. She had done the worst thing she could have done. To an outsider Alexia's moment of impatience may have been a minor indiscretion at most. But to you? To Alex? It was the basis of your whole relationship. You felt safe with her. You had a voice, she said, all those years ago when you fell in love, and you deserved to be heard. And now she has brought that into question. “Can I touch you?” she asked, gently. This brought tears to your eyes and you nodded, whilst still entertaining the baby in your lap with coo’s and a false smile. She touched your knee, the heat of her hand bleeding into your skin. “You don’t need to mask in front of me y/f/n.” Alexia never used your name. “Please. Use the words you want to use. I am here to listen. Always.” You are interrupted as Alexias Tia comes to claim her baby, who you hand back with a last pat on the stomach and raspberry to the cheek. You are trying to avoid the next 5 minutes you know will happen. Alexia is somewhat rude when her Tia offers her congratulations, eyes boreing into your head. You sweep your hair back as you face her, having had a moment to think you get your words out easier. “Alex, it’s okay. It was bound to happen one day. Don’t worry about it. Please. Go out with your friends. I will go to the meal as planned. I promise. Alba will drive me home later.” “No.” Alexia says desperately, clutching your hand in hers, “Let’s just go home, amor. Please.” “Ale I made a promise to your mami. I am going to eat. I will see you later.” you press a kiss to her cheek and wander off towards her family.  As she stands, watching you interact with her sister and her mami, her teammates call her over. She feels torn. She just wants to go home with you. She just wants to wrap you up in cotton wool and keep you in her arms. Safe. But you don’t want that right now, so she turns to do as instructed. Throwing one more glance your way, missing Albas worried face as she wipes a tear from your cheek.

Lonely and forgotten Never thought she'd look my way And she smiled at me and held me Just like she used to do Like she loved me When she loved me

You came home early. You asked if Alba could drop you off as soon as you had finished your meal. She was happy to oblige, worried about your silence the entire meal. You were looking down at your phone as you entered your apartment. Assuring Mapi again that you were fine and she should enjoy her drinks. You go to flick on the light in the living area when a stream of light below the door of your studio distracts you. You push the door open cautiously and see Alexia standing there, looking at your work in progress. It was different to your usual work. A close up sketch of a hand, wrapped around a flower, tenderly, it was in the early stages, you could see the lines of the palm and the blades of grass in the field behind. It was mounted onto canvas on your easel and the splashes of colour you had started to add contrasted against the paleness of the room. She hadn’t heard you enter, too lost in the image before her, but Pabs making a run for the door as it opened brought her attention to you. As you stand there, under her gaze, you struggle to remember the last time you saw Alexia in your studio. Yeah she would bob in to let you know dinner was ready, or that she was heading out, but she didn’t come in often enough to take in your work anymore. Now it wasn’t forced on her in the living space. It seemed Alexia had the same realisation as she broke her gaze with you and gestured towards your painting, and then further, to your desk overlooking the window, where more of your work lay. “You’re amazing. I didn’t… I.” a deep breath. “I hadn’t forgotten but I think I… Got lost? Somewhere along the way?” you tilt your head curiously. You don’t know what she’s talking about. “I have been a bad partner to you.” 

“Alex…” “No. I have. And I’m not interrupting you but I won’t let you lie to protect me.” her eyes go again to your easel. “You’re amazing. You are so talented. You are filled with so much kindness. You deserve so much more than this.” her eyes fill with tears and she looks at you. “I tried. You know? I promise I did. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought this,” she gestures towards you and around you “was what you deserved. And it is. But more than that you deserve everything.” She takes a step towards you and grasps your hands with hers, her hands are cold, you note. As you take her in you see dried tear tracks down her cheeks, and… damp hair. “Alexia, did you not go out with the team?” “How do you think that I could go out with the team after what I did?” she asks, aghast. The reminder of the way the evening went washes over you. Alexia panics when she sees your eyes fill with tears. And she pulls you into her chest. “I am so, so sorry mi amor. I am so sorry” she whispers into your hair. “I have broken something sacred between us. And I will never forgive myself.” she swears to you. Though that doesnt bring you any joy. “I forgive you Alex.” she shakes her head in despair, joining you in tears. “You said it was bound to happen someday,” she starts, “Do not think like that amor. It was not. This is not your fault. In any way. It is mine. Please don’t think that, you deserve to be heard. I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will never do it again, promesa.”  All you can do is nod into her chest.

She pulls you from the room and settles you both into the sofa, keeping the light off, only the skyline of the city illuminating your living room through the large, glassed wall. 

She lets you cry into her t-shirt, soaking it more than her damp hair, and through the darkness you pull away and take in her face, she looks youthful. Gone, the professional make up, the expensive jewellery, and hair darkened by the dampness from her shower. You take in a large choked breath. “We need to talk.” you let out. Fear takes over her features and she starts to shake her head. “No, Mi Conejito please no, don’t do this.” she wails. It is a heart wrenching sound. She thinks she's going to be sick. “Woah, woah, woah” you place your hands on her cheeks and pull her panicked eyes to yours; “Mi amor I am not breaking up with you.” you state, clearly. “I am not. Now breathe with me.” Her eyes steady from their darting around the room in fear, and you place your hand on her chest, making her breathe with you. “Okay, okay… okay. Yes, please. Talk to me.” she begs, trying to get oxygen back into her lungs.  “I feel alone. I feel… sa…sad. A lot of the time. And I know… you y…you aren’t doing it on pur…purpose.” Your girlfriend looks heartbroken. Like she had just found out her entire family had died. But refuses to interrupt you as you speak. But you have needed this conversation for so long, that the words start to tumble out of you. Getting lodged in your throat. Har large hand comes up to that familiar place, and massages the soft tissue behind your jaw. Trying to help you without interrupting. “You aren’t doing it on purpose.” you repeat. She pauses for a moment and doesn't ask what you thought she would. “Why am I making you anxious?” she asks, cutting through your thoughts. You move away from her and settle your elbows to your knees. Rubbing your face as you feel a large hand settle onto your back. You hated your stutter. You hated that it ruled your life, but most of all you hated how it exposed you. You were like a child who can’t hide a blush in front of their crush. “You aren’t, Alexia.” “Alex.” she corrects, “I am Alex to you” she insists, “your Alex. It’s just me, mi amor.” she looks at you desperately. “I feel alone, you are never here, and when you are here physically, you aren’t here in your head. Your head is in the clouds, it is with your agent, with your coach, it is not with me.” you’ve started now, so you won’t be able to stop yourself “it is me and Pabs and, even though you're dumb as bricks bebe, you're a better conversationalist than him” you try to joke, a half smile on your face. Which she matches, hand not stopping her ministrations on your back. 

“I cannot remember the last time we just sat together, the last time that we cooked together. Can you Alex?” you don’t receive a reply, 

“I haven’t had your eyes, look at me, really look at me for months. You give your time so easily to those around you, your team mates, people I see you out with at events. I can’t blame you, this is what you always dreamed of. But… I miss you.” Your speech is strong now; “and I love you. That will never change. But you need to know how I am feeling. So it's fair to you. I feel as though you are bigger than the world. And I am just the girl you saved in the art room.” She is openly crying now. “Don’t say that, you are everything” she mumbled, through tears. 

She knew that she had been busy. But she didn’t realise the damage that she had done. She had been to events, you had been at her side. But. When was the last time she asked about a wedding you’d worked? God, you used to sit for hours describing the beautiful scenes, and she’d store away ideas for your own wedding.  The last gallery you had shown at? When had she last visited your mami and papi, who had been there for her her entire life? She kept you off social media for your protection, but she didn’t mean to erase you. When had she become so god damn selfish. “Amor, I think that somewhere along the way, I had forgotten, and forgotten to remind you. There are more important things than football. Well. Football is second”.

You are thrown back to a memory, a school championship 15 years ago, sat on the bleachers watching your school get destroyed. The lanky football captain sat by your side. You can’t help it but tears fill your eyes. You missed her. That girl. The one you were and the one she was. “But.. you told me once, that I could have both.” she whispered, into your neck, “and you can, Alex. Of course you can. But you have to want both. And at the moment. It feels. It feels like you don’t want me.” “No! Mi Amor, Mi Vida, Mi Conejito. You are everything. Eres mi mundo. I am nothing without you.” she takes a breath, deep and shuddering. “I will fix this. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I have a chance to fix this. Si?” she asks, desperately. You nod, “Of course Alex, and it's for both of us to fix, I should have said something sooner.” She refuses your admittance of guilt and drags you into bed. She sticks to you like a second skin. Moves with you to brush your teeth. Standing waiting whilst you use the toilet. She places a fresh glass of water on your bedside table.You want to tell her to give you a bit of space, but the fear in her eyes prevents you from doing so. As soon as you crawl into your side of the bed she has pulled you into her embrace and the warmth that fills you goes beyond the shared body heat. For the first time in a long time, you wake up in the strong arms of Alexia. She hasn’t moved in the night an inch, and you take a moment to take her in. This is what you missed. Just breathing the same air as her. Just existing in the same space. As though she can feel you looking at her she begins to stir. Taking a moment to come to her senses, her arms grip you tighter around your waist. “Hola, Mi amor” she whispers into the air. Your response is a kiss to her lips, which she steals, hungrily. As you deepen the kiss you feel her begin to pull away. “Lo siento, mi amor, we cannot get carried away. Things to do.” your heart hurts again. You roll off the taller girl and reach for your phone as a distraction. 

You thought, maybe, just maybe, for today at least. You would spend the day together. “Things to do!” she repeats, jumping out of bed with glee. “Where’s your passport”. That grabs your attention. “Que?” you ask, confusingly. “Your passport amor, Vamos!” She had long ago left the bed, and had started moving around the room, picking up various bags which had definitely not been there when you went to bed and moving them into the hallway. She was like a ball of energy, she stripped off her oversized t-shirt she had worn to bed, leaving her standing in just her boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight. Well, you think, at least all the time not spent with you was doing something good. You find yourself in a trance, practically salivating at your view.

A change of clothes being thrown at your head brings you out of your stupor. “Dressed. Go.” Alexia teases you, definitely having caught you starting. This makes you finally start to move as you shrug on the jogging bottoms and hoodie she threw at you. Happily, you note, it's one of hers that you’ve already destroyed with paint marks on the cuffs. “Why do you need my passport Alex? What's with the bags?” “We’re going on vacation!” That stops you, half in, and half out of your hoodie. Getting yourself stuck. “Vacation?” you ask, voice muffled by the fabric. You hear Alexia make her way over to you, then feel her gently pull you free from your fabric prison. “Si…” she gently tells you. A look overcomes her face which you can’t distinguish, then she kisses your nose, softly. “Vacation. Just me and you amor.”

“But what about work?” you ask, still catching up. “You don’t have anything booked for 6 days, I checked your calendar. And where we are going, you can bring all your art things if you need them. I’ve packed the basics in my carry-on already.” “Not my work. Alex, your work. You have a busy week.” at this point you seem to have lost her attention as she turns to your question dismissively. “I cancelled it.” she replies, simply. “You cancelled it.” you repeat. “Si.” “Alexia! Have you lost your mind! You have training, you have that meeting with Oakley - you have the pre-euros media to do! You have a game in 3 days”  you reel off her calendar, watching as she continues to dress and pack her toiletries. She heaves out a sigh and turns back to you.

“Conejito, I know what I had, you don’t need to tell me I have just spent all night cancelling all of them. I spoke to Jona and he’s happy for me to miss the game. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” she moves closer to you again, “So no, I have not lost my mind. But, I did almost lose you, so please. Please tell me where your passport is so we can get on the plane I booked. Mapi will be here in a moment to take Pabs for the week.”  You find yourself standing there, stunned. She seemingly had thought of everything. You look into the hall at the bags packed there ready to go. Pabs sniffed them curiously. She’s looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. There's nothing else for you to do you suppose. As you turn from her and open your bedside table,  a smile can’t be kept off your face, you turn triumphantly with your passport held high. “Voila!” you present it to her; “What are you waiting for then Alex! We've got a plane to catch!” as you scurry out of the room and you hear the front door knock. Alexias cackle behind you. Alexia was always full of surprises when she wanted to be and she remained tight lipped all the way to the airport, refusing to tell you your destination. 

You assumed it would be one of the islands somewhere, with the size of her luggage maybe somewhere farther afield, sun, sea and a pool somewhere promised. But she shocked you. When you got to the check in desk and realised you were flying to Switzerland you could have been knocked down with a feather. Your Alex, who was upset when she even had to wear a bikini top in the month of August, has booked for you to go to Switzerland? 

She ignored your curious stare and just continued to sweet talk the check in lady, upgrading you to business class. As you descended hours later, between the snow peaked mountains against a stunning orange sun you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your hands itched to claim the sketch book from Alexias carry on. Soon, after collecting your luggage and Alexia picking up a hire car that has also been pre booked (seriously did this girl sleep at all the night before?), you found yourself being driven through a mountain forest, as a lodge that seemed to cling to the mountainside came into view, isolated and beautiful. You stood on the wooden balcony, hands gripping a warm drink as you took in the view of the sun setting behind the mountains. “Look at that, Amor.” you felt, more than heard, whispered against your ear. Lips planting a kiss at your jaw as strong hands settle over your stomach. 

You fell back into her embrace. “It’s so beautiful.” you replied, eyes focused on the scene before you. “I saw this advert. Months ago.” she continued. “Just in the back of a catalogue at work. They will have the Euros near here, you know, 2025?” That made you snort with laughter. “Ah, I see Putellas, now it makes sense how you’ve been dragged from the beach, scoping out the environment are we? Anything for that competitive edge.” your teasing is clear in your voice. 

You feel a pinch on your stomach, “No, idiota,” though the laugh is clear in her voice. “I saw that advert and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It is so beautiful here.” you hum in agreement, “But what I could not get out of my head was that I wanted you to see it. I love seeing the world through your eyes.” 

She turns you in her embrace and she places a gentle kiss to your forehead as you feel her breathe you in. “You see things so beautifully, Amor, and then you paint them for the world to see. You are so special.” Your heart melts at the blonde, and you feel some of the despair that had settled into your stomach over the last months shrink. Here Alexia was, at work, flicking through some promotional material between interviews and training, and her thoughts are with you. “And I will not let you forget how special you are, ever. Never again”. You spent those days in pure bliss. You spend the days hiking - her pretending to be as tired as you at the peak of a mountain, she was a terrible actress but you appreciate the sentiment non the less - having picnics, exploring the mountain villages, and on one particularly spicy day, skinny dipping in an isolated mountain lake that a swiss teammate had told Alexia about. Evenings were spent looking up at the stars together, you firmly in alexias lap on the balcony, sharing a glass of wine which you held. She pointed out stars that her Papa had shown her and given silly names to, and you were there to catch her tears. She would complain only minimally that she was cold, and you would offer to warm her up and she would lead you gently into the bedroom. Nights spent in each other's embrace, sighs shared and no alarms to wake you. You would dance around the kitchen, play cards at the table, share wine and stories and just catch up. 

The pit in your stomach mended with each kiss, each peel of laughter and each stroke of the skin. 

One evening, after the skinny dipping adventure in which the footballer insisted that she must have hypothermia and had taken herself off over an hour ago telling you she wasn’t coming out of the warm shower until she had become a prune. You had started to add the finishing touches to a sketch of the scene beyond your lodges window when you felt the blonde return into the room, You eyed her quickly, flannel tartan pyjamas covering her tall frame, hanging over her wrists, matching shorts which are despicably short. Fuzzy socks on her feet. She looked absolutely adorable. 

You didn’t know why she was staring at you though, She moved towards you and you made space for her on the couch.  “You have your glasses on, Conejita.” she mumbled, and you reached up, as though to confirm they were on your face, “I didn’t know you still wore them.” You didn’t, too be honest, but with the long day of fresh air and a strong sun on the mountainside your eyes had grown tired. You shrugged at her, as she placed a soft kiss on your lips. Lovesick look in her eyes. “You’re so hot.” She mumbled, more to herself. You hear though, and the blush runs up your neck. 

You moved to get your work off your lap but she stopped you, pulling you back into her embrace and you automatically moved your knees up to rest your sketchbook there. “Carry on, please.” her chin rested on your shoulder. You hesitated, you didn’t come all this way to not spend time with the blonde, you wanted to soak in every minute. You wouldn’t be happy if she started to kick a ball around in the kitchen. She could sense your hesitation, “please. Remember, I like the sound of your pencil.” she moves your free hand to her bare thigh, “and it gives me goosebumps.” You fell in love again over those 6 days. You never fell out of it. But maybe you both just needed reminding. You felt whole, your communication about how you were feeling had worked, Alexia had listened. You just had one worry though, as the plane landed back in Barna you couldn’t hold it in. “Alex.” you said, before the seatbelt sign came on, gripping her arm lightly. “This was the best trip of my life. Thank you.” Her smile cracked her face, and she looked immensely proud of herself. “Mine too, Amor.” she agreed, easily, her face was peaceful . “But. I can’t go back to how things were again, si? I don’t think I could survive it, not after this week.” she's already shaking her head. “It won’t, I promise. I will not let that happen. Me and you, Si? That is all that is important” you take a moment, “And Pabs.” you amend for her, breaking the tension. “Si, of course” she rolls her eyes, “and Pablo Petcatso.” 

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart When she loved me

“Hey, Al?” you shout, into the living room as you enter your flat. It's been a few weeks since you returned from your impromptu get away. A busy few weeks. You have been booked up and Alex had to make up for the time she had lost, Barca were still in 4 competitions so the match load was heavy. You could see she was trying though, so that made the darkness that had started to creep back in more bearable. She wasn’t home from training yet. Which disappointed you more than usual. You were giddy. 

You had just found out that your art had been selected to be shown at a huge gallery opening in the centre of the city. An established and high-end gallery. It was a big deal, and it was potentially your big break. You got flutters in your stomach even thinking about the commissions it could make you. Pabs popped his head around the door and you picked him up giddily and span him around, his meow in response you took as a congratulations as you danced and laughed. You didn’t hear the door behind you open but you heard your favourite voice in the world, “And what have I walked into here, hey, a party with my favourite two? Without me?” Alexia laughed.  “Alex, we're celebrating!” you let Pabs free from your grip as he scurried away from his crazy mama. Her arms loop around you as you move into a slow dance, grinning up at her; “Ah, Si? And what are we celebrating?” “I got chosen! For the gallery!” Your feet leave the floor as the taller girl fully brings you into her arms, lifting you and spinning you around in glee, the squeal she lets out is full of childlike joy. “Of course you did! You are amazing!” she plops you back down and attacks your face with kisses. “I’m so proud of you Mi Amor and I am so excited to see your gallery. Oh I can get all dressed up and be your arm piece!” The thought brings you pure joy, the image of Alexia standing by your side, proudly, champagne in hand. Your Mami and Papi and Eli and Alba all present. Pabs in a little bow tie. “Si?” you ask, shyly, much more used to being by her side, “You’ll come? It is in 4 weeks. The 16th. You should be just starting on break.” A shadow of sadness passes her face at your insecurity, “Amor even if I was not on break I would not miss this for the world. If I had the world cup final I would call in sick. I will be there.  I will be the girl with the biggest bouquet of flowers in all of Barna with the lovesick look on her face.” It had been a whirlwind of a month, you had to put the finishing touches on your pieces. 

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

Scenes from the road to Valencia, The Square in Mollett, Beach Scenes in Barca, Snow capped mountains of Switzerland.

It was the story of your love for Alexia. Told through scenes only the two of you could understand the significance of. 

In the week leading up to the opening, you would spend late nights at the gallery, setting up lighting with Mapi and your Papi. Eli would walk around straightening frames on the walls. As you settled into bed each night, Alexia would open her arms and bring you into her warn embrace. 

You couldn’t wait to share your love story with the world. Alexia was having a bad day. It started bad. And continued to be bad. First, she woke up alone, which she hated. 

She recalled a kiss to the forehead and a whispered ‘I'll see you later’ before she'd dozed back off.  Then she realised that she had forgotten to charge her phone and was therefore late to training. Well. Not late for normal people. But late for Alexia. Then she forgot her socks and had to steal some of Irenes. She had a bad training session and Patri beat her in all their 1v1’s. And then the icing on the cake. She was dragged out from her gym session to do media which she hated. By the time she had finished the changing rooms were mostly empty, with only Pina and Patri left, scheming together in a corner.

“Ah now, Capi! Turn that frown upside down!” Pina teased her, “Ay, come out for a drink with me and Patri, the girls are all coming later, a bonding session before the break!”

And Alexia would usually say no, she wasn’t one for massive social events. But a drink sounded good. And it was the last day of training before the break.

Which is how she found herself 4 drinks in, deep in a booth in Patris favourite bar downtown. Most of the girls had joined them and laughter and chatter filled the roped off space. Something was missing and it took Alexia a moment to realise that there wasn’t a yapping in her ear.

“Ay, Pina, where are Mapi and Ingrid?” 

“They text the group, they had something on but they’re going to join us after. Ah… here they are!” Pina turned as Patri dragged her to the dance floor. Alexia turned to where Pina had pointed and saw Ingrid and Mapi walking towards her. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave, as they got closer she took in their state of dress; “Ay, sexy mamas, it’s only a night out with the team. Why are you dressed so nice? Have you just come from your wedding?” Mapi looked at Alexia. But really, really looked at her. “What?” nothing. “Maria, what? Why are you looking at me like that? Ingrid?” she faced the usually kind woman but she wasn’t met with her usual smile, “What’s happening? Wh-ohmygod.” It hit Alexia like a freight train. Like 10 freight trains. She physically had to hold onto the chair to her side to remain standing.  “No, no, no, I didn’t, I couldn’t have done.” She starts to pat herself down and pulls her phone out, dead, still uncharged from the night before. She holds it up to Mapi, as evidence, evidence of what she doesn’t know. As though it gives her a lifeline. She knows it doesn’t. “Ingrid? Ingrid please tell me I didn’t miss it.” she asks, desperately. The tall girl looks away, as though she can’t even face what the captain had done. “Alexia.” The rage is barely contained in Mapis' voice. “I can’t even look at you.” Mapi turns to leave, but it's as though her anger wont let her; she turns again and spits out; “Do you think she needed a reminder on her phone to know when the Champions League final was? Do you think… I can’t… I have just come from her gallery opening. Her life's work. A life shared with you. And here you are. At a bar. Celebrating, what?  A game of football? A half season well done? Fuck off. Seriously. Fuck. Off” Ingrid grips her hand and tries to pull her away. All Alexia can do is stand there and take it, it's not a hundredth of what she deserves. “No Ingrid.” She pulls her hand free and pushes her finger into Alexia's chest. “You are a selfish monster. She thought you must be hurt. That's what she thought. She thought you were in a ditch somewhere. She almost cancelled the whole thing to run around hospitals to find you. But then Alba saw you on Patris instagram. And here you are. La Reina.” Mapi looks her up and down, pure disgust on her face. “Your Mamis held her as she sobbed. Alba redid her makeup. I would steer clear of her Papi for months if I were you. She is strong, and she gave a speech.” Alexia couldn’t breathe. You gave a speech? She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.  “Please, Maria, stop. I can’t listen.” Alexia couldn’t take it. She moved Mapis' hand off her chest and ran to the door of the club. One thought in her mind. Get to you. Get to you. “It's too late Alexia.” Mapi shouts to her back. She ignores her. It can’t be. No It can't be. She jumps out of the uber onto the unfamiliar street. The lights to the gallery are off but she desperately tries the door regardless. Banging on it with her fist in frustration. She lets out a scream into the empty street. Peering through the windows she sees wall after wall of your work. Scenes she recognises from her life. Football pitches. Beaches, Mountains. The scene from your balcony in Mollet. It was all so beautiful. So carefully curated. And she wasn’t there. She takes off at a run. It’s not too late. Mapi is wrong. It’s not too late. She will die if it is too late. “Y/N!” she barged into the apartment. She must have ran 10 miles. “Y/N are you here?” She runs from room to room. But there is no one there. When that's established she plugs her phone into the charger on the breakfast bar and makes her way back through the apartment. She goes into the bedroom. No, please no. The wardrobe is open, your side is empty. She looks around. Your things are gone.

The kitchen remains largely unaffected. Though the picture of you and your parents no longer sits on the shelf. Your trainers are gone from the hall. Your favourite blanket from the couch. She looks at the walls. Anything you had painted. Gone. Alexia always insisted that your art be on the walls, in each home you shared together. “Why would I want strangers work on the walls, Mi Amor? When I have the best artist in the world here?” she would say, making you blush. She was addicted to that blush. She walks back into the hallway. One picture remains in pride of place. The picture you presented to her in her darkest moment. You would never take that away from her. It was a gift of pure adoration. All it does is make the stabbing pain in Alexia's heart worsen. She pushes open the door to your art studio. All that remains are paints and blank canvases. Except. In the middle of the room. The easel. A picture she had seen before, in its early stages. A hand. A hand holding a beautiful flower. But it had changed somehow. Pressure lines had appeared. The flower beginning to wilt under the force. It wasn’t your usual work. Alexia stood closer. Entranced. As she inspected the image she saw the light tease off still wet paint. You had touched this up recently. Her eyes search, frantically for anything of your last moments in the apartment when she catches it. Too light for anyone not searching for it. 11. Blended into skin at the wrist of the image. A tattoo. So lightly painted but it etched itself fiercely into Alexia's soul. This was her hand. This hand that was silently destructive, was hers.  She saw a post it note stuck to the leg of the easel and in your looping handwriting: ‘Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting that they won't use it.’

She brought her hand up to her mouth and let out an audible gasp. She runs into the kitchen and dry heaves over the sink. There, she watches as her tears splash into the marble. And as she watches. She takes note of a single paint droplet. Her tears joined it, creating the most heart crushing piece of work she had ever seen.

God. She used to get so angry at that paint in the sink.

It's been years, she thought, years since she found paint in the sink. How much did you have to lessen yourself in order to be with her?

She collapsed into a seated position. Back against the kitchen cabinet. And brought her knees to her chest. She sobbed. And sobbed. She was joined at one point by Pabs. She thought you’d taken him with you. But no, in a typical act of kindness you wouldn’t leave her alone in her despair.

His little bow tie still sat around his neck, skew-whiff, as he looked at his mama curiously. He licked her nose and she sobbed harder.

Weeks passed.

She doesn’t know how she got through those weeks. Thousands of missed calls. Hundreds of messages. Went unanswered.

Alexia didn’t hear from you. Her Mami and Alba had forgiven her after Alba had found her in a state and unable to look after herself but they made it clear they were on your side. Mapi wouldnt look at her. They wouldn't tell her where you were, they wouldn’t pass on any message.

She was too frightened to go to your Mami and Papa.

She hadn’t trained well for weeks, She arrived at training exhausted. Sleep would never find her. She was barely clinging on. Jona still insisted she play. She was La Reina.

And then she broke. And that's where Irene found her, after another match of lacklustre performance. In a back corridor of the stadium. Broken and staring at the wall in front of her.

A ghost of the woman she was. 

Her phone lay next to her. A message from you. A response to her apologies, her thoughts, the pain she had told you she felt for your failed relationship. 

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[citieskyes]

💟 astrology observations

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Gemini placements match the energy of the person they’re with which is why they get the stereotype of being “two faced” but honestly they just reflect back to what you present

If your Venus is in the 12h, it can be exalted even if it’s in a sign of detriment (like Scorpio) as the 12h is ruled by Pisces and Venus is exalted in Pisces!

People with Sun square Jupiter may have had a rigid emotionally distant father who imposed his rules over them

Women with Venus in 12h, a lot of your hidden enemies can be other women who betray you

Saturn 3rd house may point to having speech difficulties such as a stutter or speech impediments

Moon in 3rd house might have a great relationship with their siblings. They also have a talent for picking up new languages easier than others!

Aquarius mercuries have a god complex. Especially men with this placement. They tend to mansplain a lot and think their ideas are gods gift to this universe

Venus in 5th house may make really great parents! Alternatively, kids might enjoy spending time with them

TW: People with Pisces placements (especially mars) may be more prone to addictions to drugs/alcohol more than the average person.

Mars square ascendant people may constantly come off stronger than they mean. They might have people misunderstand them and put words in their mouth. They’re the type to make friends with people who say stuff like “when I first met you, I was so intimidated by you!”

thanks for reading <3 I do paid birth chart readings $15-20. please share this post around!

[novy2sirius]

19 in numerology

tw - addiction

a lot of people talk bad about 19 and while it is the number of negative karma/disease/sickness it is also a good number for manifestation as it can represent manifesting your own reality without outside help from other

i still wouldn’t want my kid to be born that day though as a lot (not all but a lot) of people born on a 19 lifepath/19 day/19 month+day number day end up having either a speech impediment, learning issues, birth defect, disease, getting sick a lot (especially when younger), etc

during 19 days or 19 personal years you should also lay low

some examples:

• bill clinton born on august 19th has a heart disease and a very long history of heart issues

• millie bobby brown born february 19th was born with partial hearing loss in her left ear and gradually lost all hearing in it within a few years after

• jojo siwa born on may 19th has a speech impediment called rhotacism that causes her to not be able to pronounce her r’s correctly

more about nineteen

• 19 energy makes you an amazing manifestor

• 19 energy can indicate being more prone to things like addiction

• 19’s are one of the most attractive 1’s

• 19’s are the best actors out of all the 1 variations

• 19’s are usually really into politics

• 19 energy is more introverted than other 1 variations

[ashton-ryder]

bold what applies to your muse, italicize situational ones. feel free to add your own suggestions and carry it on.

tagged by: stolen from zach

tagging: steal it from zach

VOICE HC / MEME

► ACCENT  

“country” │ “backwoods” │ “sailor” │ “upper class” │ "small town" │ “city slicker” | foreign speaker │ refined  

► ELOQUENCE

educated │self-taught | uneducated | doesn’t use conjunctions │ shortens words | omits entire words on occasion | mixes up words │ just makes up their own words! │ archaic english │ dependent on mood or setting | doesn’t use contractions

► TONE

loud │ soft │ room volume │ high pitched │ low pitched │ steady | seductive │velvety │ speech impediment │ abrasive │ gruff │ shrill │ booming │ matter-of-fact │ toneless │ husky │ intimidating │gravelly │ breathy │ nasal │ vocal fry │ chatty │ condescending │ musical │ sarcastic │ suave │ world-weary │ brash │ no nonsense │ authoritative

► HABITS  

refers to self in third person│ incorporates different languages/terms/sayings │ uses gender-specific terms │ adapts to audience │ changes tone around animals or children │ shifts tone when lying │ gives others nicknames │ uses terms of respect towards others

► OTHER BITS

He lives in a softer vocal range, measured, steady and unassuming voice, making subtle sarcastic jokes and seemed like a quiet man until situation calls for it.

Such as when he's teaching a class or training recruits or on a mission or working, his voice can boom across a room and when he speaks like that, people listen.

He's been trying to wane off the habit more over the few years, but sometimes he still slips into the habit of using military terms, calling the hours by the hundreds, and only really catches himself when someone looks at him funny.

He's a very quiet laugher, a chuckle here, a scoff there, but if you're lucky to either have known him when he was younger or heard him with his guard down, he has a very charming, melodic laughter if it ever slips out with the brightest smiles, it's much rarer as he grew older, but it used to be known as the thing that draws people in.

He actually likes shortening names or using family names as nicknames a lot, a habit picked up from the marines, he responds to Ryder as quickly as he responds to Ashton or Ash.

He's a little bit tone death, please don't ask him to sing or hum, it won't be pretty. He unfortunately did not inherit his mom's lovely singing voice, perhaps just a powerful booming voice for other things, like yelling at recruits.

The way he talks about the stars and the sky and space, there is a special endearing tone it his words, soft, humbling, full of wander and curiosity, the reminder of their insignificance on a tiny rock in space.

He becomes especially quiet when he drinks, similar to every time he goes quiet, a lot is running through his head. But when he drinks, it numbs everything out, as if finally enjoying the numbing silence while he still could, before reality comes rushing back at him.

► VOICE CLAIM REFERENCE:

tw: video reference below contains mentions of abuse (and also tw for my heart for luke mitchell crying)

[masked-alien-lesbian]

TRR book 2 end of Chapter 19: Assassins attack the Homecoming Ball

[For those new to my blog, I headcanon twin mcs, Riley and Raelyn in this AU. Riley is the more typical mc that closely matches canon mc that travels to Cordonia to compete for the hand of the Prince while her twin Raelyn tags along and ends up falling for Hana Lee]

Tw: bullying, transphobia, and gun violence.

Raelyn couldn't help smiling so hard their cheeks felt like it would split. The way Liam was looking at their sister Riley with so much starstruck awe and love, they knew Riley had truly found someone worthy of her. Saw her as the queen Raelyn always knew her to be.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Ha! Made it before you!" Six year old Riley cheered as she climbed on top of the highest branch that was strong enough to take the twins weight. "I'm queen of the world!!"

"You usually do." Raelyn says struggling behind Riley. Riley reached out to help them up beside her.

"Don't worry Rae, you can be a queen too! We can be queens together!" Riley says smiling a toothy grin looking out across their grandparents backyard, missing the uncomfortable look on Raelyn's face as they frowned.

"I think I'd rather be a wizard or a-a sorerer" they say mispronouncing sorcerer. Riley turns back with wide eyes.

"Ooo that would be cool! Yeah I'll be a queen and you can be my wizard, casting spells and tricks!"

"Yeah?" Raelyn asks hopefully.

"Yess! As long as we're together Rae-Rae. You can be whatever you want to be!" Riley says hugging Raelyn tightly.

"Together forever." Raelyn says in Riley's unruly mane of hair.

"Forever!"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Introducing Duchess Riley, future queen of Cordonia." Liam says holding out a hand to Riley who took a step in his direction until suddenly the lights went out. Raelyn could feel Hana's hand that they were already holding tighten and her other hand grasp their bicep. Popping flew through the air.

"What is that? More fireworks?" Penelope's voice filtered through the crowd's uneasy murmur.

"No! Gunshots! Run!" Justin hollers and several women screamed. Someone bumped Raelyn and for a second they slipped out of Hana's grasp before she reeled them back into her arms.

"Raelyn!" Hana says into their neck. Then the lights came back on to reveal utter chaos. Liam and his guards were fighting off masked men, nobles ran as gunshots rang through the air but when one of the masked men pointed a gun at Riley, Raelyn felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured down their spine.

"RIIIILLLEEEYYY!!" A primal scream tore through Raelyn's throat and they started to bolt towards their twin.

"Raelyn! No!" Hana says leaping in front of them, desperate to keep her fiancé from attracting the attention of the gunmen.

[Beautiful commission done by the very talented @sazanes 😁😁😁]

Raelyn's view of their twin was hidden from them by a crowd of panicking nobles and when a gunshot rang out, they had no idea that Drake had taken the shot for Riley. As the gunshot rang through the air, Raelyn just stopped. Stopped struggling, stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped...existing. Tears ran down their face and they retreated deep in their mind.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Freak! Loser!" A handful of 13 year old bullies chanted circling Raelyn on their bikes. Tears welled in their eyes.

"Aww, look she's about to cry! Are you going to cry little girl?"

"S-stop c-calling me that! I'm-I'm not a g-girl!" Raelyn says stuttering. They fell, scraping their knees and the palm of their hands when a bully kicked the back of their knees out from under them.

"Actually you're half right...you're a f-f-freak girl!" The ringleader of the bullies mocked their speech impediment before grabbing the front of their shirt. "Since you're not a girl, then I guess I can punch you all I want right?" He says before raising his fist, Raelyn flinched back. Suddenly a scream of anger rang out and several of the bullies scrambled away.

"You get your grubby hands off my sibling before I kick your ass into the next week!" Riley storms towards them, righteous fury on her face, Raelyn had never seen their sister this angry before. The bully, Michael? Mikey? Mike? let go of Raelyn to smirk at Riley.

"Well well well. Miss. Softball Star here to fight her sister's battles for her again-" Riley cuts him off by punching him in the face than in the stomach. As he laid on the pavement groaning, Riley raised her voice to the other bullies and the ones standing by gawking at the scene.

"If anyone touches my twin again, I'm beating your ass into the ground, do you understand me?!?" Riley says glaring angrily before offering Raelyn her hand and helping them back up on their feet.

"Are you hurt? Are you okay?" Riley says worriedly, Raelyn shakes their head in the negative.

"N-no I'm f-fine." They say sniffling. Riley frowns at her twin's stutter. It only came out when they were upset or scared.

"Well let's get the hell out of here." Riley says adjusting her backpack.

"R-Riley! Language!" Raelyn says shocked, Riley laughs and wraps an arm around their shoulders, leading them off the schoolyard.

"I've got your back Rae. No one is ever going to hurt you while I'm around." Riley says squeezing Raelyn tighter against her in a hug.

"I've got your back too Riley." Their reply muffled in Riley's shoulder.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Raelyn baby, please!" Hana sobs as she tries to get a response from her catatonic fiancé. She cups Raelyn's face in her hands. "Please come back to me. I need you with me." Hana begs.

Tonight had been going so well. Riley had cleared her name and Liam had proposed to her in New York and was well on her way to becoming Cordonia's future queen. Liam had made Hana and the twins duchesses and she proposed to Raelyn just mere hours ago. Now, now Liam was fighting for his life, Hana's future sister-in-law's wellbeing in question and her fiancé unresponsive to Hana's pleading.

"It's going to be okay, baby, it's going to be okay." Hana repeats like a mantra, trying to get not only Raelyn to believe it but herself as well. Her forehead pressed against Raelyn's, she stared in their eyes willing them to come back to her. The couple still as statues while chaos rained all around them. Then somehow life flickered back in Raelyn's eyes.

"H-Hana?" Raelyn whispers. With a sob, Hana nods.

"Yes! Please Rae! We have to get out of here!" Hana begs pushing Raelyn back, trying to steer them to an exit.

"Hana! Raelyn! We gotta go!" Maxwell suddenly appears besides them with Chance in his arms. He shoves the corgi in Raelyn's arms and a whimpering Chance licks Raelyn's cheek. With Maxwell's help, Hana is able to guide Raelyn out of the palace and into one of the guards' armored cars.

As the car zooms off, Hana looks back at the palace biting her lip. Please be okay Riley. I don't think Raelyn could handle it otherwise. Hana thinks before pulling her lover into her arms.

Omg! It's been awhile since I made myself cry writing something! Big big thanks to @sazanes for doing this more angsty commission for me. Despite all the angst, we know the twins and the friend group will be fine but I thought it would be neat to see Raelyn's reaction to seeing their twin in danger, and we got to see a little babies and preteen Riley and Raelyn! Thank you so much @sazanes! You're amazing! 👏🏽 👏🏽 👏🏽

[mizzymii]

Vanitas Headcanons

General Headcanons that have no relevancy at all but I brainrot these on a daily basis.

If you see typos— no you didn't

TW: mentions of death and some Lightly-angsty Headcanons!

EDIT: I spelt so many things wrong WHOOPS I swear I know how to english

✎... VANITAS

⌛ Vanitas has itty bitty freckles all over his face, they weren't very noticeable but they're there

⌛ He is very good at knife juggling and lives for the thrill of it

⌛ Because I live for the Trans!Vanitas Headcanons and fancy ass scars; his scars oddly look like little wonky hour glasses

⌛ if Vanitas were to be in a relationship I feel like he isn't much of a PDA person; so he gets all funny when he's genuinely being shown affection in front of people.

⌛ for the Vanoè shippers and piggyback from the PDA Headcanons; I feel like Vanitas loves to just sit on the roof; he won't go out if his way to cuddle Noè or anything, but enjoys his company

⌛ for the VaniJeanne shippers; listen. Vanitas will let Jeanne do his makeup.

⌛ In a Modern-Day setting, in terms of music, I feel like Vanitas would like MCR; but also REALLY likes The Oozes

⌛ Vanitas is a musical guy because he just- radiates theatre kid. He likes the Falsettos :D

✎... NOÈ

🐱 I like to think Noè used to have a speech impediment when he was younger

🐱 Boi stims and likely has ADHD.

🐱 When he stims; he usually waves his hands around, shakes Vanitas or stomp in place

🐱 He can repeat "uhm uhm uhm uhm" for a minute straight until he remembers what he is thinking; and it pisses everyone (But Domi) off

🐱 for the Vanoè shippers, but I'm throwing in some angst. While Noè crushes on Vanitas (before a relationship), I feel like Noè tends to stare at Vanitas while on the rooftop and internally recites thousands of poems, but never speaks them.

🐱 When Noè gets Into a relationship with Vanitas, He leaves small pieces of the poems he's written around their room for Vanitas to find

🐱 For the DomiNoè shippers, I feel like Noè gives her the BEST hugs and cuddles you've EVER seen and is like her backpack

🐱 When Noè is in a relationship bc why tf not; you bet your ass he traces over ALL of his partners scars

🐱 Did I say I'm a Vanoè shipper? Well— more angst. In the end when Noè marks Vanitas, they come to a mutual understanding; but they embrace eachother for the last memory :) I can't think of anything sadder than that so that's for the softies (aka me)

🐱 Noè is a book dragon; he reads when he suddenly gets the motivation but he loves to hoard books because he thinks hell read them but never does

✎... JEANNE

🌹 She loves roses; she feels like a rose girl

🌹 In modern times; She's also a theatre kid- but she loves all the niche musicals.

🌹 her favorite singer is Aurora :) and she LOVES Tomm Moore movies

🌹for the VaniJeanne shippers, She loves to braid his hair and get him all pampered up

🌹 She gets sunburned very easily

🌹She's very sensitive to STRONG aroumas so she likes the subtlety

🌹Jeanne daydreams a lot when she has absolutely nothing to do

🌹(VaniJeanne) When Jeanne is in a relationship with Vanitas; she definitely makes sure to take care of him and is constantly checking up on him and giving him constant reminders that she does indeed love him

🌹Her love language is probably Words of Admiration and Physical touch

🌹She stims as well but they're usually little whistles and fiddling with sensory objects; these only happen when she's anxious and flustered

🌹For the DomiJeanne shippers; Jeanne loves to do Domi's first date was at a greenhouse then a Cafe.

🌹 Again for the DomiJeanne Shippers; Jeanne is the big spoon.

🌹 Jeanne would play DnD and always plays either the little and chaotic menaces or the big and gentle cutie patooties

✎... DOMINIQUE

I had a bunch of things for Domi but I had a blank while writing these

🗡 Bc I am; Domi is near sighted. It isn't TOO bad but it certainly is annoying

🗡 Domi is a secret bookworm and finds it so relaxing to read with a nice cup of tea

🗡 Domi used to take fencing classes and was really good? Listen girlie wields a sick rapier she DEFINITELY had practice ((this isn't even a Headcanon tbh))

🗡 Domi used to use Noè for practice

🗡 Domi doesn't like putting her hair up but is okay with doing braids or other types of hairstyles

🗡 Domi has a birthmark that looks to have matched Louis's :)

🗡 Domi, in Modern, would ALSO play DnD but dm's for Jeanne

🗡 Domi loves PDA :) romantic or platonic

🗡 I like to think Noè is her soulmate, both in a romantic and platonic sense

[rosesradio]

i’m posting a thing that’s not fanfic for the first time, i guess it’s an original work. it’s just my commentary on things i guess, it reads like a black mirror episode lol

tw: thought inspection, suicide mention, bigotry mention

word count: 1.3k

All this trouble, you think. All this screen time on the news, covering up every other issue...

You wished their time would come to an end. That it would all come to an end.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you took a look at the screen:

Hey, said the little notification from TIC. That wasn't very nice. You should demonstrate more empathy for others! 🙂

A cold chill ran down your spine as your fingers came up to lightly touch the back of your neck. There was a chip there, small and unassuming, like Doc Ock's in Spider-Man. Like that chip, you knew full well that it would not serve you.

Want a quieter TIC experience? Upgrade to TIC Plus starting at $14.99.

You remembered going on a forum, one of the last places that was not asking for your government ID, and looking through the discussions. Someone was discussing a hate group gathering in a nearby city; they'd been hurling racial slurs at children.

I don't get it, one of the forum members started, isn't the TIC giving you notifications to cut that shit out? Show more empathy or smth.

Idk, another member replied, his hand proudly raised in his profile picture. Got TIC plus, I'm not dealing with that shit. Freedom of speech.

It probably doesn't matter, a third forum member replied. They pay, they get to stay—that's the TIC way.

The dig was subtle, though you had seen the comment live for a whole two minutes before a large This comment has been deleted by TIC for the safety of minors viewing text took its place.

Strangely enough, you never saw this kind of message for the hate speech on the forum. Perks of TIC plus, you supposed.

Swallowing, you ignored your own notification in favor of rummaging through your fridge for sliced meat and cheese. There was a nostalgia for the days in which you could afford more ingredients for your favorite foods, but—well, the stores didn't sell much of anything anymore. No one can afford anything, but you were lucky you could still make a good sandwich.

As for the TIC, you tried not to think about it when you could help it. Then again, you knew about the white bear experiment—the more you tried to push something out of your mind, the more it popped up.

Repetition helped. It drove you up the wall, but you found the TIC wouldn't harass you with more than one notification if you only thought one prompting thought repeatedly.

The TIC, or the Thought Impediment Center, was still new. It was all anyone could talk about for a year. There was excuse after excuse to explain its existence:

Our handy notifications reach out to tell you that you are not alone during a mental health crisis. Try BetterHelp and get matched with a five-star therapist today!

With this recording of data, we will be able to ensure criminals face charges during the planning period. Crime will go down in droves!

They were right about that. Everything went down in droves. Hollywood had to shut down because of the sheer amount of attention one studio got during their work on a heist movie.

When you thought about it, you were one of the lucky ones, getting one so late in the game. It came in layers—if you don't get one, you can't get food stamps. If you don't get one, you can't get medical care. As if those things weren’t hard enough to access already. College is what got you. You thought about dropping out, but you had to keep going—you couldn't just drop out and give up your dream job.

You didn't dream of work, of course. However, being a librarian seemed like a perfect fit for you.

After that interview last week, though...

You sighed, buttering up your bread and assembling your sandwich on the pan.

You had interviewed for a librarian assistant position last week, though you were rejected for two key reasons.

One was because you had a master's degree, and not your doctorate. Not to mention you only had five years of experience instead of seven. It made sense now that you thought about it—why would you be qualified for that position, with its thirty-two thousand dollar salary? No, you were much better off at the donut shop. It wasn't a bad place at all, though it wasn't where you wanted to remain forever.

The other reason you didn't get hired...

To be fair, the TIC-checking was new. How were you supposed to be prepared for it?

The lady at the interview, a kind, grandmotherly looking woman named Janine, voiced that she was also not a fan of the new TIC checking.

"The TIC in general is a bit of nonsense to me," she said. Her phone vibrated. "Sorry...I had to get one. Otherwise they were going to cut funding for the library, and..." her phone vibrated again, and she huffed. "I wouldn't feel quite so bad if they didn't take my family's chocolate chip cookie recipe. I'm sure you've heard of the Miller's chocolate chip cookie recipe by now?"

You had. You'd used the damn recipe, and the cookies were great. You shook your head for Janine’s sake. That seemed to help her feel better.

Ignoring the barrage of notifications, you had thought about how the TIC had come to the rescue of companies as they had lost money due to online censorship. People logged off social media sites, so they lost money in advertising. They had to have a revenue to make up for that.

It wasn’t just TIC Plus, or it’s advertising. It was the selling of data to third parties. That was nothing new, though this time, it was selling your thoughts. That was how Janine Miller’s family cookie recipe was sold to allrecipes.

At least it was just a cookie recipe. You had heard of Kaitlyn Johnson on the news, the twenty-one year old who had taken her own life after her pornographic thoughts had been sold to ChatGPT 7.2. They’d recreated them and sold the videos featuring her without her consent to sites across the internet.

That was why you had tried to suppress your thoughts as much as possible, though you knew that one day, you would slip up.

It didn’t matter, because as Janine Miller searched through the TIC-provided record of your thoughts over the past couple days, she found the exact sort of information she needed.

It was everything she couldn’t have in an employee. You thought about how much you loathed TIC, how much you loathed the job market and the housing market and the government and the advertising. The censorship, the restriction, the hate in the world. There was even a fleeting sexual fantasy or two, as you could no longer access smut without presenting your government ID. God forbid if you wanted to get off for the first time in weeks, right?

Your thoughts, restricted as they may be, held a fraction of the vitriol and imperfection of humanity you held in your heart.

With your thoughts laid out loud and clear, the only thing Janine Miller could do was look at you. Her gentle eyes were pitiful—perhaps a little disgusted, as if you were a writhing bug on the sidewalk.

She said sorry.

Eyes stinging, you nodded.

And you went home.

You’d cried for an hour or more, no longer caring if your four roommates could hear.

You wanted it all to end.

You had a migraine.

Your phone vibrated. Your mind rang as you heard that familiar feminine voice read your notification:

Suffering from headaches and migraines? Try Excedrin Migraine Pain relief! Guaranteed results in less than 30 minutes!

Swallowing, hands shaking where they rested against the countertop, you nodded.

Added to cart.

[tank-of-hocotate31]

Wanted to share more info abt Mazulin and some lore of PIKMIN X here. ✿

[TW : mentions of War, Drug and Alcohol use, Alien Trafficking, Child Isolation and Abuse]

(DNI with this AU if your sensitive to the mention of these topics in a AU, thank you.)

||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||✧||

✿ She actually has a speech impediment which makes her studder a lot in her speech. (Minor context : she was just born with it.)

✿ She was once left isolated for 17 years by her mother after her confirmed autism diagnosis, but she still thinks her mother is a good person. (Extra context : It was advised to isolate the autistics during the war in Hocotate since their sensory overloads made them easier targets to capture for the Koppaites.)

✿ She actually turned out to be a alcoholic herself, she isn't aggressive when drunk, just incredibly dizzy and sick (Minor context : she basically pukes a lot.)

✿ The scars on her body were actually inflicted by her aunt, who was a abusive drug user who heavily drank. (Extra context : the reason why Mazulin was in her aunts care was because her mom and dad were heavily busy people, you could expect that from a physics teacher and a Hocotate FREIGHT employee with 3 other daughters, Mazulin being the second youngest)

✿ Since of the large amount of stuff going on in Hocotate because of the current war going on, she's very sensitive to sudden sounds, somehow the sound of rain falls into this category by her reactions (Extra context / Reason : she had lots of traumatic events during rainy days, it just triggers a panic attack)

✿ She witnessed her own cousins be taken away by the Koppaites when she was very very young, somehow this memory is minorly faded in her cranium.

✿ Mazulin doesn't entirely hate every Koppaite, just ones she remembers very well, from past or present interaction. (Extra context : The Koppaites actually capture Hocotatians to sell them, as in alien trafficking, which is sadly legal in Koppaitate.)

[mrslafayette]

about me!!

!!MINOR!!

name: alice

gender: female, she/her (cis-gender)

sexuality: aroace

nicknames: (given by my friends) creature, feral child, child

things i fw: amerev, frev, hamilton an american musical, six, heathers, liberty kids, turn, lafayettes family, the laurens family, music

people i fw: my friends, the marquis and the marquise de lafayette, john laurens

timezone: est

what do i do here?: probably post my amrev projects and talk about my life 🤷‍♀️

tw: in casual conversations my spelling is absolutely terrible :( i may also have a speech impediment :(( i also us brainrot in a satire way!!

[simplysickness]

hii i’m the previous anon and i was in love with pretty much any fic where soren was the sickie i would seriously be over the moon if you could post one of them

of course nonny!

if you have more requests, feel free to send them and I will happily write them ASAP.

this is a rewrite of one of my favorite sick Soren fics.

tw migraine, pain, mentions of past trauma (two mentions in dialogue, nothing descriptive), emeto, nausea, memory issues

"First, medicine," Lex said, his voice cutting the silence of the dimly lit room, as he knelt on the edge of Soren's bed, holding two medicine bottles.

“Migraine, and muscle relaxer,” Lex said, showing them to Soren.

The day had begun like any other for the couple, waking at an unusual hour, going about their morning routines, and eventually retreating to their shared home studio for work. It was their normal, their sanctuary.

But today had deviated from the usual script. Soren's morning had taken a turn, and in response so did Lex’s.

It started with a random loss of appetite, followed by a telling tightening in his neck that intensified with each passing minute.

As they continued working, photosensitivity finally caught Soren’s attention, prompting him to shut everything down and ensure their work was saved.

"Bed, now," Lex directed firmly, a mixture of concern and determination in his eyes, and Soren needed no further convincing.

Soren retreated to his room, while Lex swiftly gathered supplies in the kitchen before joining his fiancé just outside the bedroom door.

Together, they entered the room, and Soren sank into the welcoming embrace of his bed. Lex remained standing, making preparations on the nearby side table.

Their routine, born out of necessity, was a comforting ritual for Soren, especially during these agonizing episodes. He appreciated Lex's unwavering support. And for Lex, it was a sort of leveling experience, to balance out the times something went wrong. It was a balance.

Now, Lex held up the medicine bottles for Soren's inspection, ensuring he was aware of the relief they promised, all while guarding against the possibility of triggering paranoia.

"How did you know I was in pain?" Soren inquired, struggling to sit up a little more as he observed Lex's preparations, his voice tinged with curiosity and pain.

Lex carefully dosed out the medication and offered it to Soren with a glass of water.

"Well," Lex began, his fingers gently tracing the contours of Soren's neck, "You have a pattern."

Soren accepted the medicine and sipped the water before setting the cup aside, his pain-addled mind swirling with confusion and questions.

Lex continued, his fingers moving with precision as he explained, "Pain, whether chronic or migraines, always starts here," he said, tracing a path from the base of Soren's neck up the left side, "Moves up, wraps around, goes back down, and stops... right here, most of the time."

Lex's fingers traced a pattern that ended in the middle of Soren's back. "Sometimes it engulfs you entirely, paralyzing you in bed. This seems to be one of those flare-ups. Now, lay back down."

"Gladly," Soren replied, though he did offer a sort of thankful smile.

Lex's gentle fingers brushed through Soren's hair, sweeping it away from his face before fetching a damp cloth from the bowl.

Lex wrung it out and placed it gently on Soren's forehead.

Soren, his pain-induced haze blending with gratitude, remarked, "Smells good... what did you do this time..."

"Rosemary for the headache, peppermint for nausea, and lavender as a sedative," Lex explained. "Rosemary for the migraine, peppermint for the inevitable nausea, and lavender to help you rest."

"You're like a witch or something," Soren mumbled, his speech slightly slurred by the pain.

"And you need rest," Lex replied with a soft chuckle, "Pain makes your speech impediment worse, especially when you're exhausted."

"You're a hippie encyclopedia, damn," Soren managed to jest weakly. "Lay down with me."

Lex complied, nestling beside Soren and pulling him close.

---

After an hour or so, Lex shifted his position, sitting beside Soren as he adjusted the damp cloth on his forehead. Soren sensed Lex's movement and, with a feeble effort, lowered his head to rest it on Lex's thigh.

Carefully, Lex peeled the cloth from Soren's head, moistened it again, and placed it back, covering Soren's eyes in the hope of continuing the treatment.

During this time, Lex distracted himself by gently running his fingers through Soren's hair, a tender massage of the spots he knew were the most sensitive.

Lex's intention was clear: to lull Soren into sleep, hoping that rest would alleviate the pain.

But, after another hour, Soren awoke, feeling even worse than before. The pain had intensified, spreading throughout his entire body, turning every slight movement into a nauseating ordeal.

And the nausea itself was escalating rapidly. Soren was on the brink of sickness, but he knew that once it started, it would be relentless.

Summoning every ounce of strength, he forced himself to move, his body protesting as though it had fallen asleep, refusing to cooperate in this dire moment. He managed to sit up and bury his head in Lex's shoulder.

"Poor thing," Lex murmured, resuming his ministrations in Soren's hair. "Anything new?"

"N-na...nausea," Soren stammered, his speech more slurred than before, struggling to string words together.

"Can't speak?" Lex offered, finishing Soren's thought. "Your speech worsens during migraines. It's okay. Let's try some yes-or-no questions."

Soren nodded slowly, each movement causing additional discomfort in his neck.

"Has the pain spread everywhere?" Lex inquired, and Soren nodded weakly.

Lex pondered for a moment. "Is it difficult to move?"

Soren hesitated briefly before nodding again.

"Do you think you're about to throw up?" Lex asked with concern.

Soren knew he had to muster the strength to answer this critical question, as he felt the queasy sensation gnawing at him.

"I... I don't... I... know," Soren managed to force out.

"This is really taking a toll on you, isn't it?" Lex remarked sympathetically, as Soren nodded slowly.

"I won't move us yet," Lex assured. "Just tell me if you feel more nauseous. I have the trash can ready, but if your migraine continues to fuck with you like this, I might need to move you..."

Soren nodded again, agreeing with Lex's assessment. He understood that once the vomiting began, it would be difficult to control.

For a brief moment, Soren attempted to regulate his breathing, determined to delay the inevitable. But the nausea intensified, becoming unbearable.

"L...Lexi..." Soren struggled to articulate, his speech now severely impaired, "We... we need... to move..."

"Okay, I've got you," Lex responded promptly, connecting the dots and taking hold of Soren, guiding him to his feet.

It was a strenuous effort, and Soren nearly collapsed if not for Lex's steady support.

Every movement sent jolts of pain through his body, and his limbs felt like they were encased in lead.

Together, they stumbled towards the bathroom. Lex carefully released his grip, allowing Soren to crumple to his knees, where he immediately began retching.

Lex had known it was a risk, but there was no time to ease Soren gently to the floor. He knelt beside him, whispering reassuringly, "I'll be careful."

Each retch intensified Soren's agony, making it feel like his head might split open at any moment.

His mind conjured gruesome images of his brain exploding out of his skull, causing him to retch again and again, each heave accompanied by a nauseating ache.

Lex remained by his side, tenderly brushing Soren's hair back and rubbing his back, applying pressure to the spots where pain was most acute.

The nausea refused to relent, forcing Soren to suppress another round of retching as Lex flushed the toilet. But it quickly returned, prompting another round of gut-wrenching sickness.

It continued, an agonizing cycle of retching and emptying, with Lex faithfully tending to him.

After several rounds, Lex finally remarked, "Soren, how can you have so much to throw up?"

Soren felt even more drained, allowing Lex to wipe his face with a wet cloth before resting another warm one against his forehead.

"You shiver when you vomit," Lex explained. "You don't have a fever, so warm water should help."

Soren nodded slowly, his energy completely spent.

Lex disappeared briefly, saying something that Soren couldn't quite grasp in his pain-addled state.

When Lex returned with a glass of water, Soren's condition took an alarming turn. He didn't recognize the person in front of him, a stranger with dark hair pulled into a braid, pale skin, glasses, and a septum piercing. Soren couldn't connect the dots.

"It's just water for now. Drink slowly to avoid triggering another bout of vomiting," the stranger said, concern evident in his voice, “Hey… Soren? You still there?”

"I... how... you... know my name?" Soren managed to ask, his confusion growing.

The stranger's face registered realization. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

Soren shook his head, taking a hesitant sip of the water.

"I... what's... why can't I... speak?" Panic welled up in Soren's chest, overtaking the pain momentarily.

"Okay, that's okay if you don't remember," the stranger reassured him, stepping back. "My name is Lex. Lex Millington. We're engaged,” Lex said, holding up his hand and showing Soren the metal band around his finger, silver and obsidian, “And we have been friends for seven years. You have migraines, mainly from childhood head trauma, which can make your memory fuzzy during severe episodes. If you try to stand, you'll end up on the floor. You also have chronic pain issues that flare up during migraines."

"But... why can't I… I…?"

"Again, it's the head trauma," Lex explained patiently. "You have a speech impediment even when you're not in pain, and it worsens during migraines."

Soren attempted to process this new information, his memory struggling to catch up.

"It may not make complete sense right now, but I'm here to help," Lex said. "Once you've had a bit more to drink, if you'll allow me, I'll help you up, mix some more oils to ease the pain, and hopefully, you'll be able to rest, and your memory will return."

"O... oil?" Soren queried, managing to utter the word without slurring it as much as before.

"Yes, essential oils, natural remedies," Lex replied. "Medication helps, but these oils provide an extra layer of relief. I mixed rosemary, peppermint, and lavender for you."

"You're like a healer," Soren whispered, taking a few more sips of water before the stirring nausea made itself known again.

Lex laughed at the comment, “I believe your exact words were that I am a ‘hippie encyclopedia’, dear.”

Lex rubbed Soren’s shoulder for a second. Keeping enough distance that if maybe, just maybe, the lack of memory processing caused panic, Soren wouldn’t feel trapped.

"Would you like to lie down?" Lex asked after a few moments of silence.

Soren nodded, and Lex took the glass from him, setting it aside.

Drawing closer, Lex wrapped his arms around Soren, helping him to his feet.

"I've got you," he said, “I’ve always got you. Okay?”

[ominousposting]

I Didn't Want You To Hear That Shake In My Voice (My Pain Is My Own)

Rain centric hurt/comfort. Aether does most of the comforting but Fire is there in the beginning.

TAGS AND TW : self harm , suicidal thoughts , eating disorders

1545 words

Rain is written with they/them pronouns and has a speech impediment. Swiss is mentioned once and also uses they/them.

AO3 LINK!

Rain has been wearing long sleeves again.

That by itself isn’t necessarily proof that something more damaging could be taking place. It’s winter and Rain has never had a body that was good at thermoregulation, always finding themself to be either too cold or too hot. What is concerning is that they have been wearing long sleeves in areas that aren’t cold. When cuddling beside Fire they still won’t roll up their sleeves.

That is another red flag, Rain not rolling up their sleeves at all. They're prone to getting overwhelmed by the sensation of fabric on their arms, so often any long sleeve shirt the ghoul wears eventually becomes a half sleeve shirt some time throughout the day.

Rain thought they were keeping it all under wraps. It had been about a month since their relapse into, well, just about everything, and none of their fellow ghouls had approached them about it.

Fire and Rain are both laying on the couch, Rain leaning their head against Fires chest as he brushes his fingers through their hair. It had been a while since Rain had allowed themself any physical comfort from any of the ghouls, so being held as tenderly as they were now spread a warm feeling of love throughout their entire body.

Rain moves their arms to play with Fire’s hair as well, tucking his long hair behind his ear before repeating it on the other side to even out the sensation.

Rain feels Fire suddenly flinch. A whole body reaction to…something unknown. Rain reacts as well, pulling themself up off of Fire to look at the entrance to the hallway. They see nothing there. Confused, they look back at Fire.

“What. What happened?” Rain asks. All the ghouls know that Fire can get spooked if he sees someone around when he doesn't expect them to be there.

“I-uh…saw your arm. Under your sleeve.” Rain feels the tears start to fill their eyes as they hear him say this.

“Oh. uhm…” the tears finally begin to fall as Rain rises from their place against Fire’s chest, instead moving to sit at the end of the couch. They curl in on themself when they sit back down, beginning to cry into their knees.

“I’m not able to deal with this well. Can I go get Aether?” Fire is rubbing his hands up and down his arms as he says this, a self soothing motion as well as a way to calm the feeling of pain he feels on his own arms. Memories of his own issues with this obviously coming back to haunt him.

Rain nodded in agreement to the question and watched as Fire quickly stood up and walked away, presumably to Aether’s room. Rain takes this moment of being alone to attempt to collect themself, taking a big breath in and slowly exhaling. They repeat this a few times until they hear footsteps approaching the common area, looking over at the beginning of the hallway where Aether and Fire are seen approaching from.

“Hey Rainy. Fire was pretty vague but he said you needed me?” As Aether says this, he sits on the couch beside Rain and gently grabs their face. “What’s going on sweetheart?”

Rain feels themself break completely at this

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to it…it was jus’ too much.” Rain pauses to take a shuddering breath. “I can't do it. I just can't do it. Please. I can’t keep…I can't keep doing this.” they stop to sob openly as they realize what's truly going on with them. “I don't think I wanna be alive anymore.”

The tenseness in the room could be felt by everyone. This only serves to make Rain cry even harder, falling against Aether's chest as the sobs wrack their body. Aether attempts to comfort them by running his hand through their long (greasy and matted, Rain never goes a day without brushing their hair and never more than a few days without showering. How had none of the others noticed?)

Aether thinks back on the signs all of them had missed. Rain refusing to eat with them, instead electing to “eat” in their room. Swiss had spoken to him personally about how they had caught them throwing away their food hours after lunch had passed, but they had assured both of them it was a one time thing. Holding Rain now, Aether can feel by the way their ribs are sticking out more than before that it likely was not just that one time they skipped a meal. Also, the eye bags that were always present on the ghouls face had only gotten worse as of recently. There was also a distinct lack of, well just about everything being heard from their room over the past month. No bass playing, no sound of them pacing, no other ghouls visiting, nothing. They had locked themself in there for days and days on end and well, it seems no one had noticed. And that's exactly what sent Rain spiraling.

“Okay. Okay that’s alright. We can work through that.” Aether started, still holding the smaller (so much smaller, how had nobody noticed the weight loss?) ghoul against his chest as they continued to open mouth sob. “Can I give you my magic? I don't want to overwhelm you and think this talk would be better if you were calm.”

“Go f…for it. Not sure how c…calm you’re gonna get me though.” Rain gave a self depreciative giggle as they say this. They sigh as they feel the quintessence magic enter their body through the place Aether rests his hands against their shoulder blades. The calmness feels weird at first, it always does when the person experiencing it is having a breakdown of this magnitude. After a while, Rain finds themself no longer sobbing and instead breathing deeply from the place they rest their head against Aether’s chest.

“You feeling calmer?” Aether asks, continuing his questioning when he feels Rain nod. “Okay. First of all, do I need to clean your arms or legs? I’m assuming if you’re… cutting your arms again that your thighs are already pretty bad. No need for an infection when I’m okay with cleaning you up.”

“No they’re… They’re cleaned up. M…my thighs are mostly just. Scabbed up right now.” Rain explains, the mention of their thighs reminds them of how itchy they had been earlier this morning.

“I’m sorry. I think I need to leave the room. Before this gets more in detail about…other things” Fire states. Aether and Rain both nod in agreement as they watch their partner walk away from the couch.

“Okay. I love you. Go hang out with someone else for a while. Please.” Aether says. He knows that Fire being by himself after realizing that one of his lovers has relapsed in multiple ways is not safe, both because of the mental breakdown that is sure to ensue and also in case Fire himself relapses as well. Fire nods at Aether in acknowledgement.

While Fire is still looking their way, Rain quickly signs “I love you” to him. Fire smiles and signs it back to both of them, nodding at Aether as he walks away.  

Aether waits to make sure Fire is out of earshot before he continues his questioning. “How long have you been…not eating again?”

“Uhm…maybe a week or two? That part…that part’s pretty recent.”

“Can I get you something to eat after we’re done talking? You can even choose what it is.” Aether watches Rain grimace at this statement. “Or not. Whatever you think would make it easier for you”

“Probably be easier if you choose.  Just. Just nothing too big? I don't…don't wanna get set off by it. Don't let me think too much about it.” Rain is still making a somewhat disgusted face at this plan, despite knowing it’s for the best

“I can do that. Is it okay if I take a closer look at your arms?” Rain nods at this and raises their arms as an offering to the other ghoul. Aether quickly looks over both arms before pulling the sleeves of their shirt down again. “Okay, I think you cleaned them well but I would prefer to put some bandage wrap on them later just in case. Do you want me to look at your thighs or do you think they’re okay?”

“I think th…they’re fine. They’re mostly scabs.”

Aether nodded as he pulls Rain to be held against his chest again. He gives them a kiss on the top of their head, electing to rest his mouth there instead of moving it away afterward.

“I’m sorry you feel so horrible Rain. I hope you know that all of us are here for you and want to help you in any way we can. We love you and love having you around.” Aether speaks into Rain’s curly hair.

“I…I love you guys too. I’m… sure I’ll be okay in the end.” Rain sighs after saying this, the pure exhaustion from the past month seemingly hitting them all at once.

“You've gotten through this before. I know you're strong enough to get through it again.”

[dreamytones]

TW: vent and themes of childhood neglect

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I wanted to journal about things, including themes of astrology. (It is my special interest!) Allow me to jot down all the wounds that have resurfaced due to the sun's conjuction to chiron and... with all the other aries placements in the sky right now, probably aspects to others.

Wounds that have come up (MR also being in Aries) include:

☆ Not receiving enough attention as a child, or at least attention with a positive connotation; now any type of attention I receive, even good, feels wrong and I associate it with bad feelings (attention = bad) ((in my brain))

☆ Not being able to speak up for myself or assert boundaries OR/AND lashing out due to feelings of not being seen/listened to

☆ Poor communication skills, both psychologically and physically (genuinely, I developed a speech impediment because I was told to shut up a lot and became quiet over time)

☆ Wounds related to my late-diagnosis with autism + ADHD; prompting a different perspective and unlearning so much self-loathing (even without a diagnosis, there was never anything wrong with me

☆ Needing answers for why the way I am (never was shown how to cope or care for my emotions, was the scapegoat child AND internalized a lot of hurt)

☆ Never developed a true, divine sense of self due to hypervigilance of enviornment and other stressors, also never developed a true and safe sense of play, self-love, and self-expression

☆ Feelings of not belonging, isolation, and lonliness

☆ Fears pertaining to control or loss of

☆ Feelings of non-importance; low self-esteem

☆ Never feeling comfortable or secure

☆ Mourning/Grieving the childhood/mom/dad I deserved

☆ Being "low maitenence", was actually, an external expression of my feelings of unworthiness for luxury, a good home, good life, etc.

☆ Buying things for myself when I am hurt, due to my parental unit not knowing how to express emotion themselves and instead bought me things instead of teaching me how to feel the hurt/emotion, process, and let go

☆ Feelings regarding being bullied for not being conventially attractive in grade school and then suddenly being called beautiful/pretty when entering college (it feels like a joke even when I know deep down they're being genuine)

I think that's all, but I wanted to jot these down in the event others are feeling lonely. Remember, you did not deserve the abuse you endured. I sure didn't. We are all expressions of starlight, of the divine and I love you.

Stay safe and let yourself ebb + flow. ^^