#and Catarina will be back

[im-out-of-it]

PSA: SNEAK PEEK 3x07

there’s a lot that I can’t stand about this episode so as a warning, it’ll be long but let’s look what’s ahead

Simon being a comedian

let’s get something straight. this is not on Magnus. Lilith would have found other means. this is on clary and jace. Clary because she brought jace back and jace because of his dumbass choices

I love seeing Catarina here and being supportive. I swear if they had Magnus go through something traumatic again and have no friends in his vicinity, I would lose my shit

so instead of saying “no Magnus, I can’t lose you, please don’t talk that way” Alec says thank you????

I cannot stand how they wrote the whole Jordan/Maia abuse/redemption arc. so instead of focusing on Maia’s pain, it’s focused on “well Jordan is back so let’s feel bad for him” HE LEFT MAIA THATS NOT JUST A LITTLE APOLOGY TO MAKE UP FOR IT

Jordan lied to Maia, stalked her when she left him, and then bit her in a wolf rage, and never came back for her. that kind of scar never goes away

I get that there are certain things downworlders have a hard time controlling but Maia is not his possession. she’s not his property. Maia would have understood if Jordan told her the truth. but he took the coward way out. and I will be focusing a lot of my energy on this. I’m a huge Maia fan and I hate that this is basically the end of Saia. and I hate how Izzy almost tries to make Maia feel bad when Simon goes through the whole Heidi thing. Maia has every reason to step away and take time for herself. Jordan did a number on her and some people need space and time to process

bye imogen, season two me would have been psyched but it is sad to see her go

yeah, this is honestly so appealing to see a person not be in love or worship clary. but can’t believe they needed to make jace a villain to do it. NOT EVERYONE HAS TO WORSHIP AND BE OBSESSED WITH CLARY AND JACE

IF ANYONE THINKS ALEC WAS THINKING ABOUT JACE YALL WERE NOT WATCHING. this is not a parabatai moment. they would not show Magnus’s reaction for no fucking reason. Alec means Magnus and I will defend it to anyone who suggests otherwise. even Matt says it’s about Magnus and has confirmed this. like I’m pretty sure it’s fucking canon

STOP NO WE ARE NOT GOING TO ACT AS IF THE HETEROSEXUAL TOXIC PERSON WHO HAS BEEN TREATING ALEC LIKE SHIT SINCE THE BEGINNING IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANYTHING MALEC GOES THROUGH

and part of me understands and recognizes that Alec goes insane over the bond but when jace doesn’t do the same, it makes the bond useless and worthless. you’re saying to me “hey the bond is more important than anything Malec goes through” fuck Malec because let’s drop everything for jace again even though he’s awful to Alec, has been the reason Alec has almost died four times, and can’t ever be supportive to Alec. yeah jace is sooo important GET THAT SHIT OUT OF HERE (see I’m already mad lmaooo)

they’re like oh noooooooo jace has been possessed this whole time. LETS DROP EVERYTHING. and they all forgive clary and act like she didn’t do anything wrong. everything clary does is forgiven and silently spoken as it’s okay clary, we aren’t mad

for those who find comfort in Magnus’s apothecary

at least they let Alec be semi supportive

Magnus is too talented and too powerful. BUT Lilith would have found another way so babes please stop blaming yourself and acting as if this is all your fault. the blame is on CLARY

it makes me sad 1. Magnus blames himself, 2. he thinks this is his fault, and 3. he’s always sacrificing himself for people who can’t be there for him when he has his own shit

Izzy unimpressed, keep this going please. I’m just saying that if I had known someone for 10 years and they became my brother (and let’s not get into how he treats Izzy yet) and they were brought from the dead and this girl who is supposed to my friend lied, gaslighted my brother about it, and was the reason for everything terrible that happened, plus 33 murders is technically on her hands and SHE SAID NOTHING, I would be hella mad. Clary didn’t kill those people- that’s on Lilith and Jace but she brought jace back, thinking there wouldn’t be any consequences. that blood is partially on her hands

Alec and Izzy always protecting jace but stop it you two. he does nothing good for y’all but you’re still ready to drop everything to save him

IS THIS ALL WE GET? APPARENTLY

“I was wrong” “I said things I shouldn’t have” not “I’m sorry for calling you a child, let’s keep talking about this, Magnus I overreacted but this is why it bothers me, this is our future and we need to keep discussing it?????”

Bat being supportive

THANK YOU CATARINA

okay I need to calm down before I start this so I’ll be doing this one later today �� yes it’ll be long, salty, expressive. it’s funny this episode is titled “salt in the wound” when we just had Alec salty in the last episode. the next couple episodes are going to be hard to do and this is just the beginning so buckle up bitches, you’re already on this ride and can’t get off 👀 I’ll be seeing y’all soon ⚔️

[lady-ephemeral]

I desperately, DESPERATELY wanna know what Viago’s face looks like if Crow Rook even mentions the word “Elope”

[uswntpoc]

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 725 DAYS: CATARINA MACARIO

[envolvenuances]

This one gives a general summary of the importance of women in the fight for the idependence of Mozambique

And for a more present context

[pernillecfcw]

The blues back in London💙💙

[justthatfroggo]

Literally this generation’s office siren but y’all probably ain’t ready for that convo yet

[misskelley]

Maca is back, W in Lanta, Naher is golden. Too many thoughts

[mossysim]

A quick ride before class 📄

[sangre]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE.  REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG, with the information of your muse,  including headcanons, etc.

name: catarina raverre. nicknames: rini from wyll + which the tiefling children from the grove picked up on and call her as well, rina from shadowheart and gale, cat (funny/condescending) from astarion, karlach will enthusiastically call him Raverre!! if not soldier, and lae’zel is trying not to pick up a nickname but settles on an over emphatic ca-TA around act 3. Full-naming is very weird and intimate for her, so of course, she hears it most from the dream visitor in the shell of her ear. tav is the quick and easy introduction he gives to other NPC’s (it's what her brothers called her growing up) and will hear it from just about everyone as well. age: twenty-nine. race: asmodeus tiefling, infernal bloodline on her father’s side, draconic lineage on his mother’s. gender: fluid, he/him & she/her. often dancing the lines to have fun in presentation and feeling with both at once. orientation: bisexual. zodiac: aries. a very strong case for an aries I think. moral alignment: chaotic neutral, though he’s protective of innocence and will go out of his way on select occasions to pay back in the name of karma :wink: (Karma is also the name of the dragon that her lineage comes from). class/subclass: sorcerer - draconic bloodline. (poison dragon) background: guild artisan. interests/hobbies: woodwork and architecture hold his attention in a quiet appreciation kind of way, as in he could watch someone whittle for a long time and enjoy the silence (haha) about it – and traveling to see different kinds of buildings and interior decoration and stuff like that is very compelling, as someone who was raised with a reverence for like... ruins and the history shown in the way places are built. she loves magic. being able to storytell and stuff through that medium is very precious and memorable to him. quite nerdy behind closed doors. demanded to be read to a lot as a baby before falling asleep. LIKES NAPPING! Is sleepypilled. some other misc things he likes are intricate weaponry and gambling (he's freakishly good at catching a cheater/reading people's faces). spoken languages: fluent in common, draconic, infernal, and primordial (in addition to being able to communicate in sign in common) profession: adventurer, mostly. back at home, she follows the raverre family line in serving as a warden for a vestige that comes from the hoard that the dragon from her lineage kept and protected. she has four older brothers and one much younger brother, hence a very no-nonsense approach to bullshit. height: 5’11” colors: deep pale brown, purplish red, toxic slutch green, and fiendlike nauseous pink. fruits: grapefruit, guava, strawberries, pineapple and passionfruit. drinks: iced coffees, iced fruit juices, anything that tastes like radioactive mcdonalds sprite and buzzes and freaks out his tongue. alcoholic beverages: dark honey mead, ginger beer with lime. smokes: no but she DOES BREATHE smoke if she coughs and her temperature is too high. drugs: recreational use if he’s with friends and he gets something fun from an alchemist or druid he trusts. drivers license: can this bitch steer a horse? (Catarina voice) Sure how hard could it be. (NO) (BE CAREFUL) (GET OUT OF THE WAY) (horses get nervous around her. Most animals are okay with her/love her in fact but for some reason I think, to a horse, she has rancid vibes. I think it’s because she stares them in the eyes). ever been arrested: YUP but it did not last long!

TAGGED BY: no one i stole this from one of my old RP blogs ^p^ i wanted to party TAGGING: tagging my bagu gagu fwiends but also fwiends for other ocs! @the-lovely-lady-luck @interstices @reides @fluffy-snow-fox @kirkewrites @roberthouses @jessieleaf @killdragons @cass1x1 @bvckywrites @devilatelier

[bytheangell]

Sending some prompts & hoping one of them sparks some creativity. Would love to read some new fic from you! :) All SH because that’s where my brain’s at currently: Magnus/Alec - “You should sleep.” - “I’m not human, therefore, I do not require sleep.” # Simon/Raphael – A sudden explosion # Izzy/Simon - “Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!” # Maia/Catarina – I realize this the fourth time I showed up at your door needing to be patched up…have you considered giving out discount cards?

(Read on AO3)

Maia knocks on the door in front of her quietly at first, knowing there's a 50/50 chance there's a sleeping kid inside. When there's no answer, she knocks again, a little louder this time, stopping when she hears the shuffle of feet approaching from the other side.

"Again?" Catarina says with a sigh in lieu of a greeting at the sight of several unhealed wounds on Maia's arms and face. Even as she says it she steps aside to let Maia in without hesitation.

“I realize this is the fourth time I’ve shown up at your door needing to be patched up…" Maia admits. "Have you considered giving out discount cards?”

"Discount for what? You aren't even paying," Cat counters, but the tone of her voice is friendly, and teasing. "And you know I don't do this for just anyone."

"I certainly hope not," Maia gives Cat a knowing smirk as she makes herself at home on Catarina's sofa, wounds facing up for full transparency and easier access.

Maia can practically feel the heat that rises from Catarina's cheeks at that, followed quickly by the chill of cool blue magic settling over her injuries.

They aren't terrible anymore - that was earlier tonight when she had to break up a fight that showed no signs of stopping without intervention, leaving her to use all of her remaining energy to heal a couple broken bones over the surface cuts.

"Isn't there anything I can say to convince you to stop being so reckless?" Cat asks as the last of the open wounds seals itself shut.

"No," Maia admits. "But you could ask me to stay and keep me out of trouble the rest of tonight?"

It's said with an air of confident flirtation, but the end still lilts up, wondering if the answer might be no.

Catarina assesses Maia quickly before answering.

"You know you're always welcome here, Maia."

"Good," Maia says, fully relaxing for the first time since she arrived. For all her talk, she's suddenly exhausted. Catarina, with all her healing instincts, immediately senses the shift.

"I have a t-shirt you can wear to bed. Come on, my dear."

It doesn't take much convincing for Maia to follow Catarina's lead, leaning on her ever-so-slightly on their way down the hallway.

Maia’s asleep before her head even hits the pillow.

[sapphiccj]

OH SHIT CAT

[im-out-of-it]

part 28 of season 3, episode 7 continued “salt in the wound”

180. Magnus: could I really be that great?????

181. BABES THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT 🗣️ I know Catarina and alec say this but I needed more effort. I know Magnus is going to blame himself regardless but I needed more effort when it came to this storyline. Magnus shouldn’t blame himself when none of this was his fault

182. one thing about Magnus I’m obsessed with is his rings

183. Magnus: no no no to all of this NO NO NO

184. Magnus needs to be complimented more

185. Lilith knew what she was doing going to Magnus 😭

186. have some faith in yourself please. it breaks my heart how down Magnus is to himself in this episode. and I love how Alec has all these good boyfriend moments but he needed it more in this episode

187. this for another scene but I love his expression

188. here comes the blame

189. THANK YOU CATARINA FOR SPEAKING UP 🗣️ my girl knows the truth and will say it. I’m so tired of Magnus blaming himself and everyone being nice to clary. it was a problem she created from the start. and while not all of the blame is on her, a lot of it is. it upsets me that everyone babies clary and Magnus is here blaming himself and feeling guilty

*not my gifs, credit goes to daily Magnus Bane blog, you can count on my stupid thoughts at least*

stopping at 190 for the next one ✨

[flowering-darkness]

Okay now I’m thinking about Mario Party with the Ashen Wolves, because of Clara posting about it with her and the other Blue Lions

Yuri is meticulous about maximising his chances of winning - he’ll try to keep his usual smooth commentary going to disguise that he’s doing something unusual to guarantee himself bonus stars, so that no-one intercepts him (Catarina is good at spotting this, though). This can often lead to him stealing the win right at the end of the game. I’m not really sure why, but I feel like he would play as Luigi.

Balthus is the most likely to do something that screws him over if it’ll also hit someone else, like landing on an event space that causes everyone in a stretch of the board (himself included) to get moved or lose coins. He isn’t quite as strategic, but can often make the best of an unlucky situation.. which is useful considering how often he finds himself in them. I can see him playing as someone like Wario or DK.

Constance is DETERMINED to win by as far of a margin as she can, buying whatever items and even throwing group minigames if it will let her bring down first place - though this does sometimes lead to her own downfall if she lacks the ability to defend herself from others’ trouble. She absolutely plays Peach.

Hapi just lets the others fight amongst themselves and mostly does her own thing, which can sometimes lead to her coasting ahead and into victory if they all sabotage each other too much. I can see her playing as someone like Toad or Yoshi.

Catarina is the one who knows the boards best, so she can take fullest advantage of the events and layout (and is prone to going quiet when she’s planning something so no-one notices her do it). She keeps an eye on what everyone else is doing so that she can adapt her tactic accordingly, rather than going in with a set plan from the start. As she’s my self-insert, and I think I usually play as either Yoshi or Daisy in Mario Party, she would do the same.

..It all sounds like a horribly toxic gameplay experience when I word it this way, which was very much not my intention >w< we do all have fun, it’s just that all of us often have quite the potential to be devious in gameplay strategies. At the end of the day, though, it all comes down to the luck of the dice!

Hopefully this makes sense ^-^

[uswntpoc]

Cat and Mal are back!!

[pernillecfcw]

Chelsea gals are back 🤩

[meazalykov]

soft place to land

catarina macario x chelsea!reader with features of platonic!sam kerr x reader

warnings: cancer, recovery, angst

you haven’t been to any major doctor’s appointments since the ankle injury a few months ago. nothing urgent, nothing scary. it was just routine physio after a tackle during that game against west ham. there was light rehab, and a return to full training before the season picked up again. 

everything healed the way it was supposed to. 

or at least, that’s what you told everyone.  

now it’s something else.  

it started slow. a tingle at the base of your neck, creeping up your throat, like a subtle warning that didn’t feel worth mentioning at first. your voice would crack during post-training banter, or disappear altogether when you tried to call for the ball. you blamed it on overuse, maybe dehydration. you figured it would go away but it didn’t.  

you live with it now.  

you train, you play, and you act like nothing’s wrong, but every day it gets harder to pretend.  

you do not want to cause worry, especially not for cat. she has enough on her plate… coming back after recovering from her own serious acl injury, easing back into match fitness, proving herself all over again. but she notices. she always notices.  

"you didn’t say anything all session," she murmurs as you collapse beside her on the pitch after training one day. the black and pink training shirt clings to your back with sweat. your lungs burn. your throat aches.  

you give her a tight smile and a shrug, but it feels forced.  

"just tired," you say, even though the words come out hoarse and strained.  

cat’s brows pull together, concern flickering in her expression. she reaches over, fingers brushing gently under your jaw. 

"it’s your throat again?"  

you nod.  

"you need to tell sonia," she says quietly.  

"i’m fine," you lie, and she hears it. she always does.  

catarina doesn’t push. she just sighs and leans into you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder like it’ll ground you, knowing her love will hold the pieces of you together. the next day, you feel it again…worse this time. the pressure sits like a stone lodged in your throat. you can barely speak. your hands shake. your vision swims mid-sprint. when lauren passes you the ball, you miss the trap completely.  

"y/n, you good?" millie calls from across the pitch, jogging toward you.  

you wave her off and bend over, hands on your knees, willing your body to behave. you hear hannah whistle, then sonia’s voice from the sideline, sharp and direct.  

you straighten and pretend you’re okay because that’s what you do. you’ve always kept things to yourself until they become impossible to ignore.  

after training, you sit in the locker room with your boots still on, half-zoned out as the chatter around you continues.  

"she didn’t say a word again," erin whispers to lucy, trying to be subtle but failing miserably.  

"it’s not just her throat," ashley adds, brushing a towel over her head. 

"she’s slower and her passes are off. that is not normal for a player like y/n."  

you feel their eyes on you, but you keep your head down.  

when you finally glance up, it’s catarina who’s kneeling in front of you. your girlfriend’s hands rest lightly on your knees, her eyes searching yours. she doesn’t say anything. she doesn’t need to.  

later that night, when you’re curled into her on the couch, her arms around your waist and your face tucked into her neck, you let yourself exhale.  

"i don’t know what’s happening to me," you whisper, voice thin and trembling. 

"i feel like my body’s shutting down."  

"then let’s find out what it is," she says. 

you feel her hand over your heart. steady. warm. you nod.  

however, the fear lingers because it’s not just the throat thing anymore. it’s everything and the rest of the team knows. you see it in how guro always walks beside you now, keeping pace even when you fall behind.  

how mayra offers to cover your runs without being asked.  

how millie wraps an arm around your shoulders before matches and leans in close, like she’s trying to carry some of your weight.  

no one says anything directly but it’s there, all of it, aka the silent dread none of you know how to voice.  

a week later, you are more than aware that the champions league match against real madrid was days away. everything was intense for this group stage match. training, tactics, focus. every player was locked in, especially with how competitive this season had been. 

the club enforced mandatory monthly clinicals, making sure everyone was in top condition before important matches. it was routine. you had done it plenty of times before.

you stepped into the medical room like it was just another checkbox to tick off. same nurse, same hallway, same small talk about the weather. you were calm. casual, even.

things were fine until you stepped on the weight scale.

you stood still, the machine humming quietly beneath your feet. the doctor glanced at the screen, then back down to the scale, brows pulling together in a confused frown. the doctor’s mouth opened slightly like she was going to say something, but didn’t. instead, she stepped forward and checked the scale again, typing something into her computer with more urgency than before.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice scratchy and hoarse…same as it had been lately.

the doctor looked up at you, professional, but concerned.  

“have you noticed the weight loss?”  

you blinked, “huh?”  

she took a careful breath, “you’ve lost eighteen pounds in the last three months.”  

your chest tightened, “i haven’t changed anything,” you said quickly. 

“my diet’s the same and i sleep all nine to ten hours.”  

she nodded once but didn’t look reassured. 

“that’s what concerns me. unexplained weight loss like this, paired with other symptoms, it’s not something we can overlook.”  

you were in there longer than expected. one by one, you started listing what had been happening. you did not want to draw attention to yourself, but because it suddenly felt like all of it was connected.  

your throat…the discomfort, the inability to speak sometimes.  

your periods…completely off schedule, skipping whole months.  

your hair…thinner in the shower, on your pillow, in your brush.  

your sleep…ten hours felt like three.  

the doctor listened closely, then gently reached out, fingers pressing along the sides of your neck. you winced slightly. she nodded again, like something in your body confirmed what she had already started suspecting.

“i want to send you in for a full body scan,” she said, still using that calm, practiced voice that somehow made everything feel more real. 

“your symptoms and physical indicators suggest we may be dealing with something involving your thyroid. it’s best we know for sure.”  

you waited for hours after that and the scans felt surreal. the cold machines, dim lights, the hum of technology that had nothing to do with football.  

when it was over, you were told to wait in a small private room. you waited for about an hour before the door finally opened with a soft knock.  

the club’s main doctor returned, this time with sonia, your coach, by her side.

sonia offered a gentle smile and stepped forward, “are you alright?”  

you swallowed. your throat ached again, “i don’t know.”  

the doctor explained it carefully, like she had done it a thousand times before. her tone was level. informative. precise.  

“the scans revealed abnormalities in your thyroid. after consulting the images and your recent symptoms… i’m sorry… but we’ve confirmed you’re in the early stages of thyroid cancer.”

your heart didn’t drop. it froze since everything inside you went cold and quiet. you didn’t react right away. all you did was just stared ahead, blank. your vision blurred at the edges, the words thyroid cancer echoing in your mind like a far-off siren.

the doctor kept talking…mentioning how it was the easiest form of cancer to recover from, how it was caught early, how treatment options were promising…but the words barely registered.

you weren’t thinking about recovery.  

you were thinking about football or about training or about your place in the squad or about the champions league or about the call up to the national team.

all you thought about was how everything was about to stop, and you had no idea how long the recovery process will take.  

sonia rested her arm around your shoulders, a comforting gesture. you didn’t lean into it. you looked at her instead, tears building in your eyes.

“where’s catarina?” your voice cracked. 

“please… can you get her?”  

“of course,” she said softly, “anyone else?”  

“sam,” you whispered, “please get sam too if she is in the recovery area today.”  

sam, your closest friend on the team. it was not just because of football, but because of kristie. kristie and you had grown up through the national team system together. she had been your person, your steady support. sam is too thanks to her.  

minutes later, the door opened again. cat walked in first, her face immediately searching for yours. sam followed close behind, her smile gone the second she saw the drained look on your face.  

sonia closed the door quietly behind them, giving you space.  

the doctor repeated the explanation, this time for them. you didn’t look at either of them. you couldn’t. you just stared at the floor, shoulders slumped, hands trembling in your lap.

your chest hurt…not from the diagnosis, but from the heartbreak. you weren’t stupid. your career would stall. you wouldn’t be able to train or to play. you were scared, no…terrified, actually.  

sam knelt in front of you and took your hands, already teary. 

“you’re gonna be okay. we’ve got you, yeah?” she said softly. 

“you’re gonna fight through this, and we’ll all be right here.”  

it was cat who saw the fear in your eyes. it was not the surface-level sadness, but the deep, soul-crushing fear in your eyes. the ’what if?’ fear.  

she moved beside you quickly, arms wrapping around your body, anchoring you against her. your cheek pressed into her chest, your hands fisting the front of her hoodie.  

“i’m here,” she whispered into your hair, “i’ve got you, baby. i’m not going anywhere.”  

you started to cry…finally. heavy, silent tears. your throat felt too tight to sob, but she felt your body shake against hers.  

“you were there for me every single day of my acl recovery,” she said, her voice thick. 

“you never left me. you pushed me through it. and now i’m going to do the same for you. every step. every appointment. i’m not letting you face this alone.”  

you nodded against her, barely, because it was all you could do. your girlfriend’s arms were holding you, and your best friend was sitting beside you but you didn’t feel like a footballer. you didn’t feel like someone strong or unstoppable. you felt like a woman who was scared out of her mind.  

“how could i be so stupid?” you whisper, voice breaking as you cling to the sleeves of catarina’s hoodie, the sterile walls of the room closing in around you.

cat pulls back just enough to cup your face, her thumbs wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks, her brows pulling together with quiet urgency.

“no. don’t do that,” she says firmly, “don’t start blaming yourself for this. you didn’t know. there’s no way you could’ve known.”

you try to look away, but she gently guides your face back to hers.

“you’re not stupid. you’re sick. and now we’re going to deal with it. together.”

sam nods beside her, sitting on the edge of the chair near your hospital bed, eyes glassy, “cat’s right,” she adds, “you’re not a doctor and none of us on the team are either. don’t be so hard on yourself, y/n. you did what you always do…you kept pushing. that doesn’t make you stupid.” 

you don’t say anything for a while, just sit there with both of them, the weight of it all slowly sinking in. it doesn’t matter how early it is or how “treatable” the doctor says it is. the word cancer sticks to your ribs like cement. you feel your career pause. you feel time pause. everything shifts in your world with no warning, and now all you can do is hold on.

a few days after the announcement is made, chelsea posts an official update on the matter. you don’t check social media at first. you think it’ll make you feel worse. when you finally do, you see hundreds…no, thousands of comments. people from everywhere. your national teammates. old teammates from your time in france. fans who remember your debut. strangers who just want to wish you well.

your chelsea teammates post pictures with you. sam writes a long message calling you “one of the strongest people i’ve ever met.” erin tags you in a throwback clip of one of your goals that she assisted, writing, “we’ll be here waiting, don’t rush. we need you whole.”  

even with all the love, you feel… weak like nothing inside you matches the strength people are seeing.  

you need cat more than you’re willing to admit.  

she's there every chance she gets. when she’s not training, or playing, or traveling, she’s with you—helping you with picking up your prescriptions, driving you to hospital visits, cooking when you’re too exhausted to lift your head. 

she’s become your steady presence, even when you feel like dead weight.

you hate relying on her so much, afraid of pushing her away somehow.  

one night, you break down while brushing your hair…a lot of it falling out in your hands. you throw the brush down, tears streaming silently down your cheeks. you don’t even hear her come in until her arms are around you again.

“stop it! i don’t want to be a burden to you,” you say softly, “you have your own career. your own recovery. you don’t need to babysit me if you do not want to.”

she looks at you like you’ve just said the dumbest thing she’s ever heard.

“you’re not a burden, y/n,” she says seriously, “you’re dealing with cancer. of course you’re not in top condition. of course you’re going to need help. and i want to help. just like you helped me. remember those two years when i didn’t feel like myself? when you sat with me through every painful stretch and every lonely rehab session? you never left and i’m not going to either.”

you try to protest, but she just presses a kiss to your forehead.

“i’m not doing this out of obligation,” she whispers, “i’m doing this because i love you.”

after your thyroidectomy, the healing begins slowly, but noticeably.

your strength doesn’t return all at once. your voice feels hoarse some mornings, and the hormone fluctuations leave you with bouts of exhaustion, but you can tell things are improving. the doctors at the hospital chelsea partnered with are kind, attentive, and thorough. your hormone levels are being monitored carefully. you’re told you’ll need daily thyroid hormone replacement therapy, but the prognosis is good.

you mainly stay home resting, taking meds, watching cat’s games when she’s away. the couch becomes your new recovery base. the one place where cat can return after training and just hold you without a single word needing to be said.

when naomi, yes naomi girma your national teammate, signs for chelsea a couple weeks later. she surprises you at your flat with coffee and snacks, giving you the biggest hug. you cry in her arms for ten minutes without saying anything. she doesn’t let go once.

your world is smaller now, but the love in it feels infinite.

a month later…just one month, though it feels like a lifetime…you’re back in light recovery training with the other injured players. you jog lightly. you stretch. you do basic ball work. everything feels harder than it used to, but you’re doing it. you’re moving again.

catarina watches from a distance during her cooldowns, waving at you every time you look her way. sam throws an arm around your shoulders at the end of each session, joking that she missed your chaos on the pitch.

“you’re getting there with me,” sam says, “we need to go slow and steady like a little comeback queens.”

you grin at her, then glance at cat, who’s already walking toward you with a water bottle and a towel in hand.

“you’re not my physio, you know,” you tease as she reaches you.

she smirks, brushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“no,” she says, “but i am your girlfriend.”

you laugh quietly, “your love might actually be part of the recovery process.”

“then i’ll keep it coming,” she says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “as much as you need. for as long as you need.”

honestly, right now, you need it more than anything. for the first time in weeks you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re gonna be okay again.

masterlist

authors note: I took some inspiration off of this post. you should check it out as well, its amazing writing!