#hope this makes you happy anon
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PaynelandÂČÂ
#payneland#edwin x charles#dbda#dead boy detectives#doom patrol#anon who asked for the doom patrol crossover this one is for you... hope you're still around#thanks for introducing me to this particular version of the boys they are MESSY#rip dp edwin he's not ready to have this conversation#also i considered including dp crystal but there was already a lot going on#also i was gonna make a charles vs charles kinda thing because this town ain't big enough for two of them#and then they decide to ask the edwins and they're just like âobviously charles is the bestâ and both charles are happy for a second#because they assume they're talking about him
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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) â part eleven
alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader
warnings: explicit sexual content, mentions of death, scars
(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]
word count: 11.4k
Early Tuesday morning, you opened the door to Alexia whoâto your surprise, but not reallyâhad on a pair of training shorts, a plain jersey under an unzipped hoodie, a New Era cap on, her hair left down while a pair of sunglasses completed her look. And just like the other time she came to visit, she had you in her arms the moment she was close enough, pulling you into her for a kiss on your temple and then your lips.
âHello, you.â You said as you pecked her cheek, smelling the familiar sharpness of sunscreen on her skin. Then you held her at armâs length so you could look at her better before you asked, âDid you just come from training? I thought you wonât be back until Saturday?âÂ
Alexia chuckled, clearly amused, raising her brows at you for your shameless display at checking her out. But who could blame you, really, with her looking so damn good in a training jersey. She replied, âNo, Iâm actuallyââ
She halted, tilting her head to the side to look over you, and then she switched to English when she spoke again, taking her sunglasses off to place them on top of her cap as she grinned, âHola, chiquita, you ready?â
When you looked over your shoulder you saw Elisa framed by the archway and the open door that led to the backfield, standing in her favourite Alexia jersey and Barça shorts, cheeks tinted red while her forehead shone with sweat, a football between her hands.Â
âHi, Alexia!â Elisaâs hand fluttered in an eager wave, her grin a brilliant beam, before she began to take off her sneakers and zoomed right up the stairs, shouting over her shoulders. âIâm ready! Lemme just grab my stuff!âÂ
Ah, now it made sense.Â
You wondered why Elisa couldnât sit still last night and even during the day, she practically buzzed with excitement. Initially, you associated the surge in energy from the promise of another day spent with Alexia, but now you understood that whatever the two of them had planned involved football and that was the reason why Elisaâs enthusiasm for today had increased twofold.Â
As if Alexia was your mirror, you found her reflecting your expression when you turned back to her; she had an appraising gaze fixed on Elisa accompanied by an amused smile, and your heart filled with the urge to kiss her so you did. You kept your arms loose around her neck when you parted so you could look into those eyes you found yourself missing every minute that you were apart.
âWhen did you guys plan this?â You asked as you toyed with the ends of her hair.
âWhen we were at the Barça store. Elisa asked me for some tips and I offered to train her for the day.â Alexia hummed, fiddling with the hoops of your jeans. Then the inner corners of her brows quirked up, bashful when she asked, âI hope thatâs okay?âÂ
Touched by her thoughtfulness, you traced the line of her brow as you spoke, âMore than okay as long as itâs alright with you. And I should be thanking you.â
âIt is, donât worry. I get to spend time with the both of you and play football at the same time. Win-win.â Alexia said in a matter-of-fact tone and flashed you a radiant half-smile, and it made your chest and cheeks warm, obviously charmed by her, and the lightness in her eyes made those words all the more earnest to you. So you cupped her cheek and pressed a soft kiss against her jaw in gratitude.Â
Then you whispered, âThank you.â
Alexia pulled up at a deserted football pitch, the morning still early enough that the dew had not entirely dissipated from the grass when you got out of the car. The sound of the doors closing echoed from the emptiness of the space, Alexiaâs call over the roof of the car sounding louder than it actually was.Â
âChiquita, Iâm gonna need your help unloading the equipment at the back.â
Elisa stuck a thumbs up into the air as an answer.Â
As you made up your mind that youâd just watch them do their thing, you tinkered with your camera around your neck, following them to the trunk but after Alexia popped it open, the sight both surprised and amused you. When Alexia said equipment, youâd envisioned a bag of balls, several cones, and the like but what you hadnât consideredâwhen in fact you really shouldâveâwas Alexiaâs disposition for coming prepared, the scene in front of you a testament against your blatant underestimation of her ability. You watched them haul bags upon bags from the trunkâranging from pop-up goals, agility poles and ladders, rebound boards, and other football paraphernaliaâand as you spied the growing pile of things by the side of the car, you snapped a photo before laughter escaped your lips.
Two pairs of eyes darted your way with equal confusion, stopping their busy hands for a moment. You pointed at the pile, âDo you always keep these back here?â
âWhy, of course, darling. All the time.â Despite the dryness of her tone, the term of endearment set your cheeks aflame. Then Alexia raised her brows at Elisa, âElisa, could you please tell your mom to stop being mean and help us?â
âYeah, Mom, stop laughing at us and come help, please.â Elisa giggled, gladly playing along before she eventually returned back to her task.
You scoffed with no real sting to it, grabbing the water bottle rack and slinging a bag over your shoulder as you whined, âI canât believe youâre ganging up on me.â
At that, Alexia only scrunched her nose at you, smiling, before she closed the trunkâall the equipment were out finally!âthen the three of you began lugging everything to the empty field, happy to follow their lead. After setting down the things you took where Alexia and Elisa were, you went to the sidelines, unfolding the chairs Alexia brought along. When you turned back to the scene, Elisa was already doing some stretchesâas per Alexiaâs instructions probablyâwhile Alexia set up and, once done, she joined Elisa to warm up as well. But before she started, she waved you over as she called out, âCome join us!â
The desire to join them wasnât lost to you but so was the weight of your omission to Alexia about what happened while you were goneâwhat would you say when you pass out from exertion if you joined them?âso you gave her a dismissive wave, lifting your camera as an excuse. Relief filled you when, with a shrug of her shoulders as if to say it was your loss, Alexia patted Elisaâs back before she pointed to the opposite goal line, taking off in a jog right after, their strides in time with each other. You put your camera over your eye and took a photo of them, but even though you busied your hands with the lever and buttons of your camera, your mind remained occupied with another matter.
The past few days were spent in a state of bliss; the ease by which you and Alexia had slipped back into each otherâs lives was more than a surprise to you, pleasant in its own right but it was beginning to dim the longer you kept your story to yourself. It wasnât a deliberate omission. You just hadnât found the right time to breach the topic because, after all, how could one easily part with such a fact to a lover when even you dare not step to that precipice and stare into that void? But you knew you at least owe Alexia that much; to enlighten her about what she was truly signing up for.Â
Today.Â
You promised yourself you were going to talk to her about it today.
Returning back to yourself, you regarded the scene before you, took photos, and shouted encouragement every now and then. It continued on for a couple more hours: Alexia, who had occupied the role of the trainer, stood a vigilant watch over her novitiate, guiding Elisa with instructions you couldnât quite hear but the complementing gestures she made gave you a semblance of what they were, as she exclaimed and clapped her hands to compliment and motivate; and Elisa followed with apt diligence, serious and attentive to every line, every move. By the time their feet had stopped disturbing the grass, the sun neared its highest peak, its warmth and the promise of a good day had already invited more than a handful of people to occupy other parts of the field.Â
After theyâd finished cooling down, you watched Elisa run off to the restrooms while Alexia trudged her way over to you, bags of equipment on her which she deposited on another growing pile on the sideline, taking a water bottle in hand. She brushed her hand over the nape of your neck for a second before she dropped to the chair next to you with an audible huff, and you patted her knee in response to her apparent exhaustion while she drank from her bottle, just a little out of breath.Â
âDamn. Sorry, I forgot to bring the umbrella.â Alexia said as she shielded her eyes to look at you, one eye squinted from the harsh light. She softly grazed a knuckle over your cheek, âDid you put sunblock on?â
You replied in the affirmative as you leaned into her touch, and Alexia nodded in approval before she took her hand away, taking another sip of water. In the silence that followed, you thought, âShould I tell her now?â
âAlexia, Iââ
Alexiaâs lips crinkled around a mouthful of water, raising her brows at you before she jutted her chin forward. Confused, you looked to where she indicated and found Elisa surrounded by a group of kids, some of them taller and looked to be slightly older, who now occupied the once empty space that Elisa and Alexia had just been training on and in a blink of an eye, a small game of football had commenced. Shouts and laughter filled the air as they continued, passing, tackling, shooting; Elisa flew untethered along with her peers, face free from any worries and filled with glee.Â
The two of you were a fair distance away from the youngsters that they hadnât noticed nor recognised that Alexia watched over them with a proudâif not a bit sombreâcountenance for the sight, probably, to her, was a validationâproofâof how far women had cemented their place in football compared to when she was of their age. These kids, boys and girls alike, now had their own paragons of light to follow, the names and numbers of their guiding stars shining bold on their backsâthe names of women⊠Alexiaâs including. You regarded the woman next to you, chest welling up at the soft gaze you saw there aimed towards the children, a thought clear in your mind that you longed to speak, âThis is the fruit of your labour, what you and the others had foughtâand still fightingâfor.â
Alexiaâs eyes flitted to meet yours as if magnetised by your volition, the colour of them almost green against the backdrop of the field.
âIf Elisa was given the chance to play for Barçelonaâs youth team, what would you do?â
You blinked as the question caught you off guard. There was no doubt what you would do but the abruptness by which it was brought up made you squint your eyes at her. Why would she bring that up unless she knew something? Unless she was about to do or already had done something? But as you regarded her with a careful eye, you found nothing in her features that betrayed answers to your questions, her face a blank canvasâperhaps a bit too neutral.
âAlexia, did you do something?â
Alexia shrugged, pulling the corners of her mouth down for good measure before it settled to a smile, then she answered in the negative, âNothing. It was a question. Purely hypothetical.âÂ
Her answer did little to convince you but you answered in truth anyway. âMove here, of course.âÂ
At that, Alexia only hummed but a light twinkled in her eyeâone not dissimilar to the one you found in them the night you metâa light that told you she knew something you didnât. She brushed her thumb over her chin before she tore her gaze away, focusing her attention back to the match in front of her. And before you could question her further, excited screams filled the air and, when Alexia stood right after, you knew sheâd been found.
You stood aside as the kids flocked towards Alexia and you captured the scene with a smile while Alexia conversed with the kids, bumping their fists and posing with them when they asked for a photo. You felt a presence beside you and, upon turning your head, saw Elisa with a look of admiration on her face, a mirrored expression among the children there. It went on for a bit and another game of football commenced but now with Alexia in the mix, but half an hour later, you were all packed up with everything back in Alexiaâs trunk, and the three of you were off.Â
On the way back after lunch, Elisa and Alexia chatted, discussing things about football with equal enthusiasm. The sound of their amusement filled the car, and with the day ending on such a high note, you felt compelled not to say anything about what you planned to tell Alexia as you didnât have the heart to bring it down.Â
And as you laughed at one of Alexiaâs dry jokes, you resigned your promise.
Tomorrow.Â
You would talk to her about it tomorrow.Â
Unlike the day before, Alexia came by earlyâearly enough that Elisa was still asleep while you, yourself, only woke up just about half an hour agoâbut that was no surprise. It was rare for Alexia to sleep in; the rigorous conditioning her body had borne throughout the years made her circadian rhythm almost permanent, something that youâd teased her about from your time beforeâsomething that you teased her about just then.
âI donât hear you complaining about it.â She muttered against your ear and, though you couldnât see it for she had her front pressed against your back with her hands gentle on your hips as you made two sets of coffee, you could practically hear the pout in her voice.Â
âIâm not! Itâs actually kinda cute.â You laughed before you added, âYouâre cute.â
âIâm really not,â Alexia practically whined, hiding her face in the crook of your neck and the feel of her there tickled you, so you tried to angle yourself away but she clung to you as you felt her laugh against your skin.
âAlexia! Youâre going to make me spill the coffee!âÂ
When the both of you finally made it to the couch with no drop of coffee spilt, you tucked in by Alexiaâs side, her arm over your shoulder as the both of you revelled in each otherâs company, sipping at your beverage, you broached the news to her.Â
âYour brotherâs coming here?â She asked with surprise and with both brows raised.
At how she posed the question, you couldnât help but giggle. âI love the way you made it sound like heâs not the one who owns this house. But yes, later today, probably around evening or earlier, depending on when heâll finish his meeting in Madrid this morning.âÂ
Alexia blew a puff of air, a bit petulant, as she muttered lowâalthough still deliberately loud enough for you to hear, âItâs kinda easy to forget when heâs never here.â
The both of you broke out laughing. Then a pensive look took over her demeanour, her fingers fiddled with the ends of her hair, something that you noticed she did whenever she felt at peace or whenever she was worrying about something. You had a feeling it was the latter with the way her brows were slightly creased in the middle, but the question that left her lips, which was spoken in a soft tongue, confirmed your inkling to be true.
âWhatâs he like?â
Ah.Â
Seeing Alexia unsure about herself was a rare occurrence, even more than seeing her vulnerable which was saying a lot. So you laid a hand on the nape of her neck, chest warming when she leaned back to seek more of your touch, and you ran your thumb over the skin just below her ear to keep her at ease.Â
âHeâs⊠my best friend and the best brother I could ever ask for. Heâs funny; likes to tease me a lot, but heâs protective.â At the mention of the word, Alexiaâs frown deepened before you could even finish what you wanted to say, âAnd trust me when I tell you, heâll definitely like you.â
But your reassurance seemed to have gone out the other ear for the movement of her finger didnât cease and her eyes remained clouded with something akin to worry. You allowed her another moment more with her thoughts before you booped her nose and watched as her eyes fluttered, the light of her presence returning in them as she regarded you. And so, with light amusement, you said in the hopes that Alexia would finally listen, âJust give him the same attitude you gave me a minute ago, youâll get along really well.âÂ
At that, Alexia let out a small chuckle and, as it trailed off, the smile that graced her lips lingered; what you said hadnât fully expelled the doubt from her eyes but the fact it was lessened made you feel better.Â
Alexia sighed after another lapse in silence. âI just want to make a good impression, you know? And thank him.â
âThank him for what?â
She shifted so her face was angled more to you and held a gentle finger on your chin to keep you looking into her eyes, soft and earnest.
âFor intertwining your fate with mine,â she said, each syllable spoken with the gentlest of air.
Your heart stuttered at her confession, the gravity of it heavier with Alexiaâs belief in fate, and words eluded you so you could do nothing but take her hand to reveal her palm, and kissed her there.
Then after another brief pause, Alexia asked, âDoes he know about us?â
âI think so. I havenât told him anything directly but I think heâs put two and two together.â You pushed the memory of how your heart monitor betrayed you back from the forefront of your mind, but your cheeks heated up anyway. As you massaged the spot between Alexiaâs brows with your thumb in the hopes of soothing her frown away, you added, âPlease, donât worry about it too much. Heâs Derek; as long as Iâm happy, heâs happy.â
âAnd are you? Happy?â The vulnerability that you found in her eyes made you ache, not unpleasant, just a sense of fullness that longed to break free. You pressed a kiss on her temple, then to the corner of her lips.
âMore than I could ever put into words. You make me so happy, Alexia. You really do.â
Later that day, just around late afternoon after spending most of the day trainingâyou, of course, only a spectatorâthe three of you found yourselves walking along the beach after a late lunch. It was a bit further on when, as you conversed with each other, an exclamation made you stop and look over your shoulders.
âOh, my god.â
Standing a few paces behind you was a young man, tall in frame, cheeks still round with traces of his youth, the stubble along his jaw and chin a direct contrast, making it known to you that heâd probably just recently entered his early twenties. The first thing you noted was the camera that dangled from his neckâyou recognised the model, vintageâand you barely schooled your features from showing your surprise; he was a photographer not only for leisure but if he was, well, that was one expensive camera for a hobbyist.Â
Habit made you step asideâyouâd been out in public with Alexia a handful of times now to know how this would goâbut as you did, the young manâs eyes followed you, intent, and that confounded you.Â
âIâm sorry, did I interrupt you?â His brown eyes flitted between you, Alexia, then Elisa, his small smile apologetic as the paleness of his cheeks turned rosy.
Alexia waved a careless hand in the air as she spoke in English, âNo, youâre okay.â
âHow can we help you?â You asked, smiling at him politely.Â
The man stepped forward as he patted the pouch of his shirt, then he dug his hands into his jean pockets, then you watched him procure a marker, his hands shaking as he handed it to you.Â
âI canât believe itâs you. I wish I had your book with me but I donâtâI, Iâm sorry, can I get a photo and your signature?â
You couldnât prevent the surprise from showing on your face even if you had the time to try. Your eyes drifted to Alexia, and the question that was clear in your mind that you knew Alexia could probably read on your face. What was happening?
The action of yourself nodding preceded the intention and you watched, still in a state of confusion, as the man handed his phone over to Alexia so she could take a photo of you both. As you posed and looked at Alexia behind the camera, you found a familiar light in her eyes and from the slight upturn of her brows, you knew Alexia was more than slightly amused at the role reversal. When Alexia began to count down, you smiled at the person taking the photo more than for the image itself, and once done, she handed the lad his phone back.
You signed the back of a used plane ticketâthe only paper of decent quality, as per his words, that he could find on his person that could house your signatureâand after handing it back to him, you said, smiling, âIâm sorry if I looked more than a little confused. This doesnât happen often, I only ever get asked for photos at events, and itâs usually the other way around!âÂ
âNo, please, donât be sorry. IâI just truly admire your photojournalistic work,â he stuttered as he tucked the plane ticket in his shirt pocket. âI read your book about your most recent conflict coverage and that photoset⊠It chilled me to the bone the first time I saw it. Iâm sorry you had to see that in person.â
Images tore their way out from the shadows of your mind, their teeth bare and gnashing: vacant eyes from where souls were ripped away, crooked fingers accusatory, and the stenchâ
You shut your eyes as a malignant chill crept over you, crawling under your skin that left your muscles weak, and even beneath the Barcelona summer sun, you trembled. And the memories flooded back: Elisa with her mother, the shots, and now the scars on your body burnt anew. You took a deep breath and took careful note of where you were: there was a baby crying a few paces away, a large wave just arrived home to the shore, there was a call of a seagull overhead, someone with coffee walked past you, and⊠there was the familiar warmth and weight of Alexiaâs hand on your back.
The moment you opened your eyes, the man was looking at you with concern and regret while, when you turned your head to the side, Alexia and Elisa were obviously distressed.
âIâm really sorry, I didnât mean toââ
You held a hand up before the man could hurt himself. âItâs alright. They come back to me sometimes without being reminded so you donât need to apologise. And thank you for your concern.â
More than willing to change the topic, you jutted your chin at his camera, âAre you a photojournalist, too?â
âThatâs the plan. Iâm only working freelance at the moment and Iâm not really sure which branch to pursue. I can hear conflict photojournalism calling to me, though.â He said, rubbing the back of his neck. In his answer, you sensed a âbutâ so you asked as much.
He casted his eyes down for a moment before he regarded you again, gaze wary. âBut⊠Iâm scared I wonât be able to handle seeing those things in person. And Iâm scared of being hurt, of being killed. Just like what you saw and what⊠what happened to you. I donât know if I could survive it.â
From the corner of your eyes, you could see and feel the weight of Alexiaâs stareâa burning question that branded youâand you clenched your fist as guilt flooded your veins. Foolish! You shouldâve told her yesterday. She deserved more than hearing about it like this. But no matter what was done was doneâthe moment had passedâand the only thing you could do now was to tell her after this.Â
Despite your inner turmoil, you focused on the man, and smiled at him softly for you understood what he was going through, the same place you once stood before you answered the call of that very wind.
âThereâs nothing to be ashamed of. Itâs a difficult choice to make. The camera cannot shield you from the danger and the violence and, well, death, but it can bear witness, and can show the world whatâs happening. You have your whole life ahead of you, you donât need to jump in just yet. And if you hear that call again a bit later and find yourself ready, then, why not?â
At that, the young manâs demeanour brightened. Then his brows scrunched up, now seemingly worried, his question spoken with a light, enquiring air, âYou mentioned in your book that this was the closest youâd ever come to dying, do you think youâll ever get back into conflict photography?â
With the uncouth way it was posed, the question made you flinch with its directness. You had half a mind to reprimand but you recognised thisâthe journalistic instinct to question, to uncover, even if certain situations shouldnât warrant such intrusionsâso you let it pass because as was the case for every learned skill, interviewing demanded the same amount of practice to develop. He was young, he still had so much to learn and time, as was the case for everything, would be his teacher.Â
A shuffling sound drew your attention to Elisa who was standing close to Alexia, clutching your loverâs hand with both of hers in a firm grip, her wide eyes fixed on you upon hearing what the man said, a sombre question reflected in her eyes, âAre you going to leave me, too?âÂ
Although the call was very much thereâthe need to be the echo chamber for those whoâd lost their voice still strong in your soulâyou found yourself now tethered: to love and responsibility, so you shook your head, more so for Elisaâs sake than the manâs.
âItâs selfish, I know, but I have so much more to lose now. But, as I said, the call will always be there and I canât control what the future brings, so who knows, really?â You shrugged, smiling at the man.
Satisfied, the man retreated but not before you gave him a business card for you and Derekâs firm; with a little bit of guidance and experience, he had potential to do goodâalthough you did warn him that a spot for him wasnât guaranteed, but he still accepted it gratefully. Once the man finally left, Elisa approached you, her shirt bunched up at the hem from the firm grip of her fists, eyes wide as she gazed up at you.
âAre you okay, Mom?â
You cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb under a glassy eyeâElisa was upset.âIâm alright, honey. How are you feeling?â
Elisaâs chin quivered and a tear ran down her cheek, and when she spoke, her words were whispered in haste. âAre you going to leave? Please, donât, I donât want you to get hurt again, I donât want you to die. IââÂ
Oh, Elisa.
Immediately you took her into your arms in the hopes that you could ease her distress and when she clutched at your shirt as her tears soaked through the fabric, your heart began to ache and your eyes burnt as well.Â
âIâm not leaving, ladybug. Iâm not. I wonât leave you behind, I promise.â
The ride to the house was a silent affair; even the short walk that led up to Alexiaâs car was suffused with silence. After getting in the car and putting her seatbelt on Elisa immediately dozed offâfrom the emotional toll on top of the physical strain sheâd endured during the dayâand it was relieving. Alexia on the other handâŠ
Ever since sheâd heard the words from Benâthe photojournalistâshe completely receded and everything she did, seemed to you, were performed on autopilot; her every movement mechanical, stiff. Her face remained stoic: her brows formed a flat line, the light in her eyes so ineffably dim made it known to you she was somewhere far away; the way that her hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles told you which plane Alexia had found herself inâa hellscape.Â
It hurt seeing Alexia like this and you felt like you had to say something but you bit your tongue and instead, you placed a gentle hand on her right knee and applied just enough pressure to hopefully pull her back from her thoughts. It seemed to work for when she glanced at you, her mask of passivity cracked with the way her gaze softened, her lips now pressed into a thin line, almost quivering. The moment only lasted seconds but it left a profound mark in your heart, made all the more indelible when Alexia took your hand in hersâeven with the heat from Barcelonaâs summer evening, you felt her palm cold as iceâand intertwined your fingers in a firm grip while the other remained to steer the car until you reached the house.
By the time you arrived, the last vestiges of the sun tinged the skies in its sombre purple and pink, the tangerine glow from within the house a stark contrast to the growing darkness. When Alexia parked the car, the front door opened and more of that warm light spilled out and a shadow stretched long in its wake, and at the end of it, the familiar, large frame of Derek.
While Elisa immediately jumped out of the car to greet her uncle, Alexiaâs hands remained on the wheel despite the lack of engine, now gripping for a different reason, her eyes trained on the imposing figure of your brother. To be fair, who wouldnât? With the top of his head nearly grazing the doorframe and the width of his shoulders, just by looking at his stature alone, most wouldnât even consider the words âsoftâ and âsentimentalâ to describe him. So the reflection of anxiety in her eyes was not new to you, but this was different because this was Alexia.
You placed a hand over one of hers on the wheel, coaxing her attention by squeezing her hand. âAlexia?â
She looked at you, blinked. Then a strained, âYeah?â
âYouâre going to be fine.â
Alexia looked at Derek again before she whispered through her teeth, âAre you sure about that?â
âYes. Hey,â you brushed your thumb over her cheek before you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Alexiaâs eyes flicked back to you. Then you took her hand, pressed your lips on the back of it. âAlexia, breathe. You can do this, and Iâll be right here with you.â
True to your words, the moment Alexia gathered the courage to walk up the porch, Derekâs face broke into a grin that thawed the ever-present ice in his demeanour, enveloping Alexia in a hug. Despite Alexiaâs tall frame, she looked almost like a child next to Derek, needing to crane her neck to look up when it was usually the other way around with you, as they chatted.
Then Derek finally took note of Alexiaâs demeanour now that she was past Derekâs defences, and he voiced with concern, âAre you okay, Alexia? You look a bit pale. Do you need to stay over?âÂ
The reminder almost made Alexia a ghostly apparition by how much more her colour drained out from her. She pressed her lips in a thin line, dug her hands into her short pockets, while the muscles in her back coiled so much that you could see the planes of her muscles through her jersey. She replied tersely, âIâm alright and no, Iâd rather not disturb you.âÂ
At what she said, you knew what you needed to do. You went to Derek and said in a voice enough for only him to hear.
âDerek, could you help Elisa start packing her things? I need to do something.â
âOkay.â A question was clear in his eyes but like the many times he did before, he didnât press you for any information, only nodded, squeezed your shoulder, before he went back inside but not before he enveloped Alexia in a farewell hug and told her to get some rest. Then you walked back to where Alexia stood, still as tense as you left her, and you pulled at her arm gently, coaxing her towards her carâto the passenger seat.
âAlexia, give me your keys.â
Alexia looked at you, still pale but her eyes now held confusion, and maybe a hint of defiance, in them. âWhy?â
âIâm not about to let you drive home by yourself like this.â
âNo. Iâm well capable ofââ
You fixed her with a stern eye. âGive me your keys. Now.âÂ
Alexia regarded you with a wary eye but she sighed, finally relenting, and dropped her keys in your open palm. She sat in the passenger seat, an elbow up against the window and chin propped up on her knuckles, quiet apart from the occasional direction to the way to her apartment. The silence was heavy, but you found yourself not entirely too bothered by it for it gave you a chance to gather your own thoughtsâto try and find the words to explainâbut you couldnât help but take furtive glances at Alexia, who was looking more and more dejected by the minute as the streetlights casted shadows on her face and made her demeanour excessively morose, the sheen in her eyes prominent in darkness.Â
You arrived and Alexia let you in, dropping her keys in a little dish on a cabinet by the door, the air still and silent apart from the clink of metal against porcelain and the soft breath of clothes rustling as the two of you padded into Alexiaâs apartment. Briefly, you allowed your eyes to explore the space but as you entered the living room, your palms began to sweat as the nerves began to set in.Â
Alexia was hiding behind her stoicism again, sitting on the couch seeming as calm as ever, fixing you with a look that betrayed the placidness of her demeanour. You sat too, opting for the space by Alexiaâs side as opposed to the lone loveseat as you knew that the nature of what you were about to reveal required the lost distance between your bodies; for her sake and yours.
For a long moment, you couldnât speak; you opened your mouth a number of times but you stopped short for fear that the words would fail you. Alexia waited patiently and only when she took your hand in the space between hers did you find the courage to begin, placing your other hand over hers; she was with you, you were with her.
And so, you told her.
From the night you left, when you were about to tell her what you were going to get yourself into, to your arrival and the conflict you needed to cover. About being caught in the middle of fire, about the nature by which you met Elisa. And then, finally, you told her about what happened to you: the shots, the hospital, and your recovery. You watched, as this enfolded, the way Alexia became increasingly tense, sheâd taken your hand in a grip at one point, and you felt the warmth in her hand dissipate into cold sweat, could feel the way she trembled. By the end of it, Alexia looked paler than youâd ever seen her before, wide eyes red and glassy; fragile in all sense of the word.
The silence that followed was like a fog, heavy and suffocating, and the words that bounced against the walls made the fog even thicker that your chest began to ache.
âWhen were you planning to tell me?â Came the even question.
âYesterday, but I changed my mind. I shouldâve just told you.âÂ
Another pause, her demeanour remained the same. And then, âHow bad was it?â
You considered lying; considered telling her that it wasnât that bad to appease her, to protect her from that knowledge but there was a plea that shone in her eyes that stopped you. So, with a shaky breath, you whispered, âI⊠they said that my heart stopped. Twice.â
Alexia inhaled sharply and you winced when her next words were spoken in a broken tongue, a lone tear running down her cheek.
âWhy didnât you say something?â Alexia whispered.Â
âI didnât know how to bring it up. I didnât know how youâd take it.â
âYou nearly died!â Alexia shouted as she stood up suddenly, eyes wide and frantic, while she threw her hands in the air before she dug her fingers into her hair. She mustâve realised how loud her voice was because she spoke her next words in a lower tone but it was restrained all the same, tight and thin as a string on the brink of breaking.Â
âThere was no other way Iâd take it! What if Iâd lost you and I didnât even know?â Then her eyes widened even further, realisation clear in them, and then her breath caught, words coming out in a sob. âNo, I did lose you, didnât I? Your heart stopped! Your heartââ
Alexiaâs knees buckled beneath her and you barely caught her in time. The weight of her against you brought the both of you down to the ground, the softness of the rug doing little to lessen the fall, and it left you cradling Alexiaâs head in your arms, her ear against your chest, as you tried, to no avail, to ease her pain.
Alexia had always seemed like an immovable mountain to most people, strong and collected in the face of adversities, especially so to her supporters whoâd only ever truly seen her display an air of vulnerability a handful of times, so to witness her so broken like thisâprone and weak on her knees, spine contorting in an anguished arch under the heaviness that you put in her chest, the weight too much for her to bearâand knowing that it was you who caused her to feel this much misery⊠Oh, how the pain seared through you like a burning lance!Â
âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to.â You whispered this litany of lamentations against her ear, your voice thick with tears. But, in your mind, you were apologising for more than that; for all the mistakes youâd made, for leaving, for almost leaving into that endless night.
Alexia twisted your shirt in a grip, the fabric now soaked with her tears, gnashing her teeth in a fierce display of guilt. âAnd I wasnât even there for you. Fuck, I wasnât even there. Iââ
âYou cannot blame yourself for this, darling. I wonât let you.â You said, voice firm despite the gentleness of it. And you proceeded, âAnd you think you werenât there but you were, Alexia. You saved me.â
It was the truth that Alexia neededâthat you needed herâto hear. She was your light in that darkness: in that sleep and the haze that came after it, and even more so now than ever. You tightened your grip around her, kissed the top of her head, and brushed her tears away.
âYou were there, Alexia, always. You just didnât know it.â
You were drying your hair with a towel on the bed when Alexia entered the bedroom, hair still dripping from her shower that left dark spots around the collar of her grey shirt, the skin around her eyes remained rosy but now faint, her short shorts barely appearing beneath the hem of her shirt, andâ
âIs thatâŠ?â
Alexia followed your gaze and looked down at the string around her left ankle, the silver of the charm glinting in the low light. âYes.â
âYou kept itâŠâ You whispered as emotions caught in your throat.Â
âOf course, I did. ItâŠâ Alexia bit her lip, casted her gaze to the side for a moment, before she met your eyes again, eyes so openly sincere you longed to kiss her right then. âIt makes me feel more at ease while playing. It makes me feel safe.â
At that, you grazed your thumb over the string around your wrist. âI know the feeling.â
A silence fell over you as Alexia stood just a few paces away from the foot of her bed, feet shifting beneath her as she gnawed on her lower lip. She looked so small like that, so young and unsure. So you shifted your weight, and made space for her as you said softly, âAle, come here. Let me dry your hair.â
That seemed to be what Alexia was waiting for because she finally shuffled forward, and sat down between your legs with her back turned to you. Gently, you began to dry her hair, loving the way she craned her neck back as you did so. Once it was only damp enough now, you ran your fingers through her hair, carefully untangling the knots between the strands, before you moved your hand lower, to the nape of her neck first then to her shoulders, putting just enough pressure there with the intent to release the tension in her muscles.
Alexia sighed deeply, tilting her head sideways so you could move your hands more freely. And a moment after, she turned and looked up at you, eyes lidded and shining with vulnerability and⊠something else that you couldnât quite decipher but your heart ached all the same from the depth of it, and then slowly, she rose, and then the warmth of her breath caressed your cheek, her lips on yours. The kiss was tender and sweet in its lightness and before you knew it, you were eased down to the bed, her warmth washing over you as if her body was the sun and you were the earth being graced by her light.
You cupped her cheek, feeling the line of her jaw, savouring her lips when a wetness burnt against the skin below your eye, tasted salt on your tongue, and felt the stutter in Alexiaâs breath. Soon, Alexia broke the kiss entirely, sinking into the crook of your neck where she wept silently, and you could do nothing but wrap your arms around her frame to shelter her, to assure her that you were still here and that, truly, the worst had passed. You held her there until sweet repose, at last, eased her into a place without pain and you waited for sleep to come, while regarding her countenance and relishing the soft caress of her breath on your skin, when not a moment later, you joined Alexia in slumber; your heart finally beating in time with hers.
It was still dark when you woke several hours later with a comforting warmth pressed against your back and the weight of Alexiaâs arms around your waist, her breath warm against the nape of your neck. You shifted closer to the source of your comfort and placed your hand over hers. From the way her hold on you tightened, you knew she was awake.
âCan I confess something?â Alexia whispered, voice raw.
âWhat is it?â
She took a deep breath.Â
âI waited for you.â A pause. âUntil I saw you at the Olympics, I was still waiting for you. I knew the odds of you coming back to me were against me, but I hoped youâd come back.â
âThank you for waiting.â You murmured.
âThank you for coming back.â Alexia choked out, arms tightening around your waist. âThank you for coming back to me.â
You needed to see her, so you peeled her hands from your waist, turned, and wrapped your arms around her waist.
âIâm here, Alexia. Iâm right here with you.â You caressed her cheek, wiping the tear in the corner of her eyes before you whispered against her lips, âIf I have to spend my whole life thanking you, so be it.â
Saying goodbye was a difficult affair for everyoneâwell, except for Derek, of course. Despite Alexiaâs offer to drop you, Derek, and Elisa to the airport, you declined, reminding Alexia she needed rest for tomorrow, chuckling lightly at the pout she gave you when you said it, which made you inclined to kiss it away.Â
(You ignored Derekâs smirk; you spied him over Alexiaâs shoulder looking all too smug for his own good.)
And Elisa, after spending the past few days in Alexiaâs company, clung to her waist, lips quivering and eyes glassy with unshed tears, while Alexia tried to appease her. It seemed that Alexiaâs celebrity factor had diminished for Elisa and now it dimmed to a newfound word: a friend. You smiled as you watched them chat for a bit longer, before Elisa went inside the car.
When it was your turn to hug Alexia, you sank into her arms, and she in yours, as your heart already longed for her at the thought that in a few minutes, you two would be parted again. It was difficult but you managed to pull away, kissing Alexia on her cheek, then her lips.Â
It was your last kiss but as your Uber took you away and as Alexiaâs figure shrank in the rearview mirror from the growing distance, this kiss, you felt, held the promise of a future; of something more.
And that, to you, was everything.
You took the call immediately after you saw Alexiaâs name on your screen.Â
âAlexia, what did you do?â
It was currently late October, over two months since the last time youâd seen her in person, but the both of youâand occasionally Elisa would join the both of you if she was able to catch you after her practiceâremained in contact be it through messages, calls, or video calls. So to say that you missed her was more than an understatement and you found that the calls that used to relieve you of your longing for herâalthough they still very much didânow only served to deepen the growing cavern in your heart that resembled the woman who it belonged to; it was no longer enough, you wanted Alexia.Â
But that was not to be the topic of your conversation right now.Â
Alexiaâs chuckle met your ears, brows crunching up in amusement. She was in a loose shirt, half of her face glazed over in a low, warm glow. âIs this about Elisaâs trial?âÂ
âPlease, Alexia, if you had something to do with Elisa getting scouted, tell me now.â
âI didnât do anything.â Alexia said, even and light with laughter, but she enunciated the words with an air of seriousness. âI didnât do anything. Although I admit I did a little digging that day I went to La Masia when you guys were here, remember? I heard Jona say her name in passing and when I checked the list, Elisaâs name was one of the best candidates. Your daughter has talent and a promising dedication to the club, the scout saw that.â
And as her word sank inâas you believed in your bones that Alexia was speaking truthfullyâyou let out a sigh, sagging into your open palm.Â
âOkay, I believe you. Iâm sorry, babe⊠I just had to make sure.â
âDonât worry about it.â Alexia waved a dismissive hand, and then, âSo, what happened?â
âWell, I picked Elisa up today and her coach handed me a brochure and started talking about Elisaâs eligibility for a trial to get into Barçaâs youth team.â
âAnd how did Elisa take it?â
âSheâs unusually calm about all of it and thatâs exactly the reason why I wanted to call you.â You sighed, âIâm worried she believes she didnât get in because she did well and that she got in because of her connection to you.â
A pause and you watched as a pensive look passed over Alexiaâs face. âDo you mind if I talk to her?âÂ
âNo, not at all. I think thatâs a good idea. Hold on.âÂ
You muted the call and then padded your way to Elisaâs bedroom, then knocked on her door.Â
âLadybug, Alexia is on the phone.â
A moment later the door opened slightly, and Elisa looked through the tiny gap, her brow scrunched up in confusion before she widened the gap enough that she could step out.Â
âAlexia?â
You tucked a strand behind her ear. âYes, honey. She wants to talk to you, only if you want to.â
Elisa gnawed her bottom lip, casted her gaze down for a moment, before she finally nodded. You gave her your phone, watched her close the door, before you made your way down to the kitchen to check on the food you were cooking. It was nearly half an hour later that Elisa joined you, phone in hand, eyes only just a bit raw, which she handed to you after giving you a hug. And when she pulled back, the smile she gave you was small but radiant, and you felt relief as you let her slip back into her room but not before you reminded her that the food was nearly ready.Â
âI donât know what you said to her, but she looks better. Thank youâÂ
âShe just needed a little pep talk.â Alexia smiled at you, soft, âAnd anytime, my love.â
Two months later, Elisaâs club topped their respective league, won a major regional and national tournament, and Elisa⊠Elisa passed the trial.
Elisa was going to Barcelona.
âCome over when youâre done for the day?â
The message was sent about an hour ago. You ran your fingers through your still damp hair, wiping your clammy palms on the fabric of your jeans, as you sent, âIâm coming up.â
Two days after Elisa received the news from Barça, you flew by yourself to Barcelona to sort out some paperworks. Derek already offered for the both of you to remain at his placeâinsisted even, so you wouldnât get stressed out, which was sweet of himâand you accepted, but you promised youâd find someplace else after you and Elisa settled into your new routine. Alexia knew about all of this, of course, her schedule was filled today so she wasnât able to be with you. Well⊠until now.
Now faced with Alexiaâs apartment door, to say that you were nervous would be an understatement; you hadnât seen your lover in the flesh for months, how could your heart not be in danger of leaping out of your chest at the promise of seeing her again soon?
You knocked on the door and only seconds passed between the moment you saw a shadow through the peephole and the door being flung open, and before you could fully comprehend what was happening, you were being pulled inside by the collar of your cardigan and slammed against the door as warm lips pressed on yours, hungry and full of ardour.Â
You moaned at the heat of Alexiaâs tongue searing the skin of your lower lip, her teeth napping and pulling, before her tongue swept over the same spot, to soothe and salve and sear all over again. Standing on your toes, you wrapped your arms around her neck while you pushed your chest up, seeking her warmth, and you loved the way Alexiaâs arms tightened their hold around your waist, pressing you further into the firmness of her body. Then her hands ventured downwards, setting your skin afire in their wake, and you gasped into her mouth the moment she took your ass in her grip and squeezed, the pleasure turning your blood into an entity of potent desire.Â
To your surprise, Alexia suddenly pulled away from the kiss and she ripped her hands away from your body, planting them instead on the door to hold her weight. And you had never hated distance more than the mere centimetres that separated your bodies just then.
Alexia looked down at you with lidded eyes, pupils blown so wide that the hazel in them were covered in black, while her breath came out stuttered.
âWaitâIâm sorry, I know weâre taking it slow but I just missed you so much and IââÂ
You let out a sound that was between a moan and a groan as you pulled the collar of her hoodie down, swallowing her next words in a deep kiss. Your hand crept under the fabric of her hoodie, her stomach deliciously taught beneath your fingers and you didnât fight the urge to drag your nails over her smooth skin to make your intentions clearâan action that made her swear against your lips. You took her lower lip between your teeth and pulled slightly, the sound she madeâobscene in every sense of the wordâand the curse she let out sent scorching heat straight to your core; nothing turned you on more than the proof of Alexiaâs ever-present composure slipping.Â
It mattered not how the both of you arrived at the bed; one second you were pressed up against the door, the next you were surrounded by soft sheets with Alexia on top of you, nipping and licking along the column of your neck, while the room filled with pants and gasps that came from either of you. She pressed her knee against the juncture of your thighs and the pressure made you keen Alexiaâs name in a wanton cry, which Alexia responded to with an approving hum that you felt on your lips.Â
Her teasing continued on until the fabric of your underwear clung to you like a second skin from the slickness of your core but when you felt her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, you surged up and gently pushed Alexia to the side, laying her down on the bed with a deep kiss while you moved to straddle her stomach.Â
Then you leant back after a moment to look at her, and the sight you beheld took the breath from you.Â
There, she lied: with her light brown hair fanned out wildly on the sheets, a stark contrast against the lightness of the linen; her skin glowed from the incandescent light from her lamp; her hazel eyes beautifully dark and lidded with need; her cheeks graced with a rosy tint of the same shade as her supple lips which were slightly parted; the strong column of her neck, her broad shoulders, her large but gentle hands⊠there, while she lied and gazed at you, you basked in the radiance of her earthly beautyâher character even more resplendent in nature. And there, your chest crowded with emotionsâlust, desire, wonder, amityâbut a resonant call from your heart encompassed the immensity of this singular truth.Â
You loved Alexia.Â
Oh, how you loved her so.Â
With reverent hands and eyes that bore the zeal of your affection, you kept your gaze on hers while you dragged your fingers over her clothed ribs down to the firmness of her stomach, admiring the way the strength in them yielded into a softness so inherently familiar, adoring the way her lips parted further, the way her brows rose ever so slightly as the depth in her eyes seemed to stretch into a vastness that called to you.Â
She was beautiful.Â
So, so beautiful.
All of her exalted you to no end: the sound that she made when you kissed the valley between her breasts after youâd helped her undress; the feel of her skin on your tongue, from her collarbone, to her rib, to her hip, and her thigh; the tasteâfinally, againâof her need, her pleasure, and her ecstasy. Everything that she was revived you; she stoked the embers of your mortal flame into a star that shone for her, and only her. Every breath, every word, every look⊠these were the things thatâin their divine simplicityâendeared her even more to you; the divine simplicity of her state of being was more than enough to move you, to make you fall deeper into your love for her.
As she came undone beneath your touch, the echoes of your heart longed to be heard, filling your throat with the words of a confession. But instead you whispered, in a cadence similar to that of a litany, that she was beautiful.Â
Soon after she came back to herself, she sat up and in a second, Alexia had you in her tender and appraising arms as you remained on her bare lap, kissing along your jaw as her large hands roamed over your still clothed body, her touch both gentle and fervid. But when she grazed the hem of your shirt again, you stilled.
Alexia pulled away, eyes lidded but concern reflected brighter in the darkness of her eyes.
âWhat is it, darling?â She asked as she brushed a strand behind your ear, gaze intent, searching your countenance for an answer.
Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest. You opened your mouth a few times as you tried to find the right words to say, and then finally, you admitted quietly, âMy body⊠itâIâm not like how you remembered.â
âDarling, your body will always be beautiful. You donât need to hide yourself from me.â Alexia took one of your hands and pressed a kiss on your knuckles, earnest in the way she spoke and looked at you. Your heart ached.
âI know, itâs just⊠I donât think Iâm ready,â you trailed off, âAnd Iâm worried youâre not, too.â
âYou donât have to worry about me.â Alexia squeezed your hand, encouraging.âIâm ready when you are.â
Unbidden, the image of Alexia in anguish after you told her about what you went through flashed through your mind and the same vulnerabilityâthat thinly veiled fearâyouâd seen then, you could see now reflected in her eyes. It was one thing to hear the words of injury, and it was another to see the physical proof of it; if the words had profoundly affected her so, how much more would bearing witness to the tangible mark of your narrow escape from death would cause her?
âAlexiaâŠâÂ
You began to sigh, ready to offer a rejection, but Alexia cupped your cheeks into her palms, making you look into her eyes. Then she whispered, âPlease, let me see you. I want to⊠I want you.â
There was much desire and tenderness in her voice, and you found yourself calming down knowing that you could trust Alexia with this. So you nodded.Â
Alexia smiled at you softly before she whispered, âThank you. Just let me know when you want to stop.â
You nodded again and then, Alexiaâs lips were back on yours, sweet and light as her hands returned to your waist. She was gentle, murmuring words of reassurance on your temple, your jaw, your collarbone, as she eased your cardigan off your shoulders. She placed one light kiss on the column of your neck before she laid you down on the sheets, her hair cascading over you like a silk curtain.Â
Alexia journeyed down your body, placing butterfly kisses over your clothed sternum, her breath breaching the thin barrier between your skin and heated your blood into a gentle simmer. Then she stopped, her lips on your stomach, and when you looked down at your body she was gazing up at you with imploring eyes, fingers playing at the button of your jeans, a question clear in her eyes.Â
Your lips parted at the sight of Alexiaâs lips made red from kissing, her blown pupils dark with ardour, her brows tilted up in silent affection. Your heart, for all of its beating, was tranquil under the weight of Alexiaâs hands and eyes, and so, you nodded.
Alexia gave you a smile and then she kissed your navel as her fingers unbuttoned your jeans, taking it off slowly. Then her hands skimmed over the newly exposed skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps and heat in their wake, and you gasped when you felt her lips ghosting above your core over the fabric of your underwear. You anticipated more, canting your hips upwards, but Alexia had already moved away by then, a gentle squeeze on your thigh, you perceived, was her form of apology.Â
And then her fingers were drawing circles on the exposed skin of your navel, just below the hem of your shirt, as she bent down, capturing your lips in hers, before she rested her forehead against yours.
âAre you ready? Just say the word and Iâll stop.â Alexia whispered on your lips.
You inched away so you could cup Alexiaâs face in your palm, grazing your thumb over her cheek, as you replied with absolute certainty. âIâm ready. I trust you, Alexia.âÂ
She caught your hand in hers as you began to take it back, pressing her cheek into your palm as she said, âThank you.â
Slowly, Alexia began to take your shirt off and, once it was tossed aside, you waited with bated breath for her reaction upon seeing your scars. Would she turn away just as you tended to do sometimes whenever you saw yourself in the mirror? Would she touch you stillâwould you sicken her? You probably would, wouldnât you? Youâ
A choking sound tore you away from your spiralling thoughts, your vision focusing on Alexiaâs face contorting. A part of you screamed, âLook how youâve appalled her!â, but clarity came over you and you recognised then that it was pain that marred her face. Alexiaâs lips quivered as she took you in, eyes drifting around the more prominent scars on the right side of your torsoâone on the top of your shoulder, on the skin just below your ribcage, and finally, the one just beside your breastâand her brows creased, and when she met your gaze, her eyes had reddened and now held in them, along with the desireâalbeit now dimmer from the intensity of the other emotions on her faceâa mixture of relief, regret, and agony.Â
Then she gathered you in her arms as she leant down, her arms wounding their way around your ribs, her nose brushing against your collarbone, her fingers delicate in the way they splayed on the skin of your shoulder blades, while the strength of her body draped over you and the softness of her breastsâher warmthâoffered, even without words, shelter and healing. And you basked in it, arching your back to further feel the press of Alexiaâs body, wrapping your arms around her neck and in response, Alexiaâs hold on you tightened as she whispered your name in a tone fit for a rhapsody.
Alexia lifted her head and looked into your eyes. You wiped the trail of a tear that ran down her cheek, tucked a loose hair behind her ear, traced the line of her brow, and then the bow of her lips which trembled at your touch.
âYouâre here and youâre mine.â She stated softly although the intonation in the end made her sound unsure, as if she didnâtâor couldnâtâbelieve that the both of you were there together, skin on skin, flesh against flesh, breathing the same air in the same moment in time; alive.Â
âIâm with you and Iâm yours, Alexia.â You whispered with conviction. âTake me.âÂ
As you said this, you reached behind you to grab one of her hands so you could kiss her knuckles, watching her as she watched you, before you took her first two fingers into your mouth. You relished the way her lips parted with a gasp while you guided her fingers down to your core, pushing the fabric of your soaked underwear aside so you could press Alexiaâs wet fingers against you, sighing when you finally felt her there while Alexia moaned out her desire.
And so, she took you. With one last fervid kiss on your lips that took your breath away, Alexia ventured downwards, brushing her thumb over your clit as she did, while she nipped on the expanse of skin you offered her. And then her lips were on you and you were lostâand found again.
She moved with an air of divinity; with each touch from her supple lips, you felt as though you were closer to grace; and with each swipe of her tongue and thrust of her fingers, you could feel a warm radiance washing over you, simultaneously stripping the strength away from your bones and restoring you to a wholeness you never knew you could feel.
You gathered enough strength to open your eyes to peer down your body and when you did, the sight that greeted you nearly pushed you over the edge. There between your legs, Alexia was looking at you with lidded eyes as she worked on you, catching a glimpse of her tongue every now and then, and the sheen of wetness on her lips and chin. And her eyes⊠Oh, her eyes had the power to unravel you with one look.
The need to feel her close rose in you as you felt your peak creeping closer. You had meant to say, âCome hereâ, but the words were lost on the way to your mouth and what came out was Alexiaâs name. But Alexia understood enough it seemed for sheâwithout so much as losing the pace of her fingersâmoved up your body and kissed you, your wetness fresh on her lips and chin, your taste heavy on her tongue.
She kissed your cheek, then your temple, and then you felt her warm breath on your ear. Then she whispered low and dark as sin, âYou look so beautiful like this⊠feel so good. Love the way youâre so wet for me.â
âAle⊠AlexiaâŠâ You moaned at her words, dragging your nails over her back as you found yourself losing purchase; the edge of euphoria, you could feel, only just a breath away.Â
âThatâs it. Come for me, darling. Let me feel you come.â
The heat of it allâAlexiaâs words and the warmth of her breath, that hot friction from her fingers, and her safe, sheltering weight on youâfinally lit the fuse and ecstasy set every nerve in your body afire, and a sense of fullness filled your chestâa state of graceâthat called to the woman before you.Â
And so, you didnât stop the words.Â
You sighed against her ear, âI love you.âÂ
Alexia tensed but she didnât stop until youâd finished, until your cheek was pressed against the sheets, eyes closed from the sheer pleasure that she blessed you with. When she dragged out her fingers from you, you whimpered.
And then you felt her palm on your temple, wiped the sweat away there, before she eased your head away from the pillow as she whispered your name. You opened your eyes to her doting countenance, her brows graced by a hopeful tilt.
âDo you mean it? Truly?â Alexia asked softly.
You felt no fear when you replied in the same soft cadence. âI do.âÂ
Her breath stuttered, her next words were so light you barely caught them. âSay it again. Please.â
You smoothed her hair, traced the tail of her brow, before you looked deeply into her eyes.
âI love you, Alexia.âÂ
Her face broke into a small, reverent smile that bore all the warmth in the world before she caught your lips in a kiss so tender you nearly cried.
Then you parted, but Alexiaâs forehead remained against yours.
And with tears in her eyes, she whispered.Â
âI love you, too.â
#ap11#not proofread#mine#my writing#a/n:#to the anon/s in my inbox whoâs been so sweetâthank you for your kind messages and words of motivation#i very much appreciate you and im sorry for my lateness but i hope that this makes up for it.#happy holidays everyone and take care of yourselves#woso x reader#alexia putellas x reader
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Expand more on sugurus selfishness pls đđ
So itâs a need for him to take care and love you? <3 also how would he pick his lover and how to love them đ
Would he never ever leave you even if itâs healthy for you and youâd be happier that way? (Tbh I donât ever wanna leave him either đ„șâ€ïž)
AHHH WELLâŠ. itâs tough anonâŠ.. i feel like calling him selfish almost paints him in a bad light but i truly donât see his selfishness as a bad thing đ suguruâs love is very very tender, but itâs kind of⊠rooted in his own need for devotion. if that makes sense. suguru craves to care for you, yâknow? itâs all about you, yes, but itâs all about you because thatâs what he wants⊠what he needs⊠he feels complete when you let him love you. he feels happy when youâre happy. so really itâs all about him, but all thatâs running through his mind is you you youâŠ. if that? makes sense???
like. at the end of the day. all suguru wants is to be the one who stands at your side. and he will fight for that position, as opposed to someone like gojo who i think would slink into the shadows if he thought it was best for youâŠ.. if your relationship was making you miserable then obviously suguru wouldnât want you to stay, but. the thing is that he does make you happy. he sees it as his duty and itâs not a duty heâd ever give away to someone else, even if they could love you in ways he couldnât... suguru is determined to be worthy of you!!!! he needs you and he needs to love you, to make you happier than anyone else. itâs a strong, selfish desire but that doesnât make it bad!!!
this is a gross oversimplification really but in my brain itâs kinda likeâŠ.. gojo wants you to be happy. and suguru wants to make you happy. you know??
#hoping i made this âŠ. clearâŠâŠ..#hhhhhh itâs ⊠a little hard to explain đ#i think both gojo & sugu are great lovers#and i think they both tiptoe the line between selfishness & selflessnessâŠ#itâs hard to say if suguru takes care of you because it makes you happy or because it makes him happy#and itâs hard to say if gojo slinks away from your life because he thinks itâs whatâs best for you or if heâs just scared.#you know??#theyâre my sweet loserboys alwaysâŠâŠ#ty for the fun question anon <333#i love him a lot :â)#ask tag â©
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AHHHHHHHHHHHH YOUR LITTLE SKRUNKLY DESIGNS FOR THE LIFE SERIES PLAYERS ARE SO DAMN CUTEEEEđ€Źđ€Źđ€Źđ€Źđčđčđčđč IF YOURE TAKING ANY REQUESTS COULD WE GET A QUICK CLOCK DUO DOODLE??
LOVE WINS!!!
#trafficblr#double life smp#impulsesv#bdoubleo100#clock duo#anon you are my first ever ask ever so i hope this sketch makes you happy -w-#trafficshipping#just in case though this is more in reference to their silly little marriage in dl#my art
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how do u imagine natasha + sampoâs relationship?
I. Feel a little bad for leaving this in my inbox as long as I did, especially since I said in this post I could write a whole essay on them. But then when I tried to actually answer this, I realized ah shit, I can't really articulate what I think of them at all OTL
(so have a bajillion words of meta analysis of them instead fklajklasjf)
Just! Sampo is very mysterious figure, and we know so little of his background and his motivations! So it's really difficult to get a solid read on some of his relationships with other characters. Regardless, I do think that Natasha is perhaps the one he's closest with, and that she is the one person who knows him the most intimately in all of Belobog.
And a lot of it IS hard to pin down because of Sampo's slippery nature, but also because it's like. If you look at just Natasha's dialogues about Sampo, it doesn't really look like much. It only becomes more meaningful when compared to how everyone else talks about him.
Most other characters just comment on what Sampo does, as in his observable actions that are easy to see on the surface or from a distance.
Natasha is one of the very, very few that actually speaks to Sampo's personality or philosophy. Like she not only is able to describe a certain behavior of his, but she's able to explain the why behind it.
At least part of this is probably that they spend so much time together- Hook even comments on it during her companion quest.
And tbh I don't really think it needs more proof or anything with such a flat out statement like that, but this is actually further supported by the fact that Seele is the only other character in Belobog to sorta-kinda comment on Sampo's personality; if Sampo were hanging around the clinic with Natasha all day, Seele would probably be the person he would see second-most there. Of the dialogues posted further up in this post, Hook obviously sees him all the time, but it's not always in the clinic, and besides she's still very young...she wouldn't have the same read on him an adult would. Luka avoids the clinic whenever he can because he's worried about taking up Natasha's valuable time. And the Landau siblings aren't even present in Boulder Town until after the Stellaron is quieted.
Seele, on the other hand, is extremely loyal and devoted to Natasha, and seems to worry about her a lot. She doesn't have the same reservations as Luka, and it would feel right to see her in the clinic frequently, taking orders and missions and trying to make sure Natasha doesn't run herself in the ground. So it would make sense for her to see a lot of Sampo if he's always in there, too, enough that she would have things to say about his personality, whether she likes that or not haha.
Of course we know from Sampo's lines that it's not that he's sick, he's just reporting back to Natasha. Sampo not only smuggles in supplies across the border like what most people know him for, he's also Natasha's source of intel.
Bringing back intel doesn't necessarily have to involve a lot of conversation though, especially because it would make more sense for Sampo to be turning in written reports. It decreases the chance of Natasha mishearing/misunderstanding something or having to rely on memory alone, neither of which are really things you probably want to be doing when bad intel can mean the difference between life and death in her circumstances. So I do really wonder what it is Sampo does in the clinic all day haha. Given that he's a big believer in the power of small talk bringing in big clients, it's entirely possible Sampo is just in there being chatty, happily making conversation and keeping Natasha company most of the time...which is kinda cute. He also really could just be talking shop, too, of course- Sampo does a lot of work for Natasha, and I don't think it'd be a stretch to assume she's his main client. There's probably a lot to discuss about supply quotas, incoming intel, scheduled drops, etc.
My favorite option, though, is actually based on one of Sampo's options from the main quest, where he says:
Because like! The way he says this, the way he specifies that this is his opinion, but no one seems to care what he thinks? And how he calls them stubborn in particular? It really sounds like Sampo has been trying to get Wildfire to operate in a different direction. And if you look up the exact definition of "artless," you get this
which very much fits Sampo, and how he does things. He has guile and deception down to an art form. Sampo goes on to call Wildfire "do-gooders," but then cautions the trailblazer not to underestimate them because of that- indicating that Sampo sees that type of philosophy as something naive, or at least just ineffective. Something that you would underestimate a person for.
And the person Sampo associates with the most in Wildfire, the one he's always seen with, the one who would hold the most sway to change the modus operandi of the organization is...Natasha.
So I wonder if Sampo has been trying, possibly for years now, to get Natasha to see what he thinks of as reason, and start playing dirty to survive. I wonder if that's what he spends so much time in the clinic for, is because he does care, and he wants her and the rest of them to live, and he has been trying to convince her to go with his way of doing things, but Natasha has been refusing him, refusing to compromise her morals.
Because we know from some readables and from the general Vibe, both up on the surface and down below, that things were getting pretty dire. Rivet Town has fallen. The Silvermane Guards are being whittled down and broken. The Fragmentum was right on everyone's doorstep, and I'm sure that if the Astral Express hadn't arrived- and that if Sampo hadn't set the stage so perfectly, if he hadn't played his part just so- then all of Belobog would have eventually been snuffed out. Sampo had to have known it was happening. He must have known the end was upon them.
He doesn't even have a stake in Belobog- he's not from here. He could, assumingly, call it quits and leave when shit got tough by whatever means got him there in the first place.
And I'm sure Sampo wants to save all of Belobog, but I think he's particularly endeared by Natasha. He famously phrases his view of Elation as "true happiness always entails the manifestation of the dignity of mankind." And like. Who else embodies that so much as her?
Maybe it is a little vague and up to interpretation, but I feel like Natasha is FULL of that kind of dignity. She has been doing this since before the blockade. She willingly chose to stay in the Underground where she could do the most good. She has seen so, so much death and you can see how it weighs on her; she's become bitter, and wary, and weary. She has it out for the Guards (understandable), and she openly taunts Gepard and goes right for his throat when he shows up in Boulder Town, ten years too late, trying to help with the Fragmentum.
Natasha even seems to have given up any belief she may have once had. She's completely lost faith in Qlipoth.
All of this, and yet she still chooses to be kind. She still chooses to help people. There is something immensely admirable in all of that.
And I feel like you can see how much Sampo admires her in just how often he thinks of her, especially when someone needs help. Sampo smokebombs everyone and needs to get them somewhere safe in the Underground? He takes them to Natasha. Svarog is about to fucking kill everyone? Go get Natasha. He finds the trailblazer passed out in an alleyway? He carries them to Natasha. The trailblazer is seeing weird shit out in the Fragmentum? Recommend they go get a check up. Specifically from Natasha.
It's a little silly, but I think you can also see some of this when Sampo is being melodramatic about being caught red-handed in the museum event. He echoes a very important sentiment to Natasha and Wildfire;
And the mission where this ideology was displayed strongest was titled, "To Rot or To Burn."
(Hell, in the dream sequence of Penacony- regardless of whether that dream bubble came from Sampo or Sparkle, it had to be informed by Sampo's tales of Belobog. Sparkle has never been there herself. And the kind trashcan that immediately helps you and sets you on the right path, that tries to rally everyone together, the only one with a name so clearly and obviously taken from someone Sampo knew in Belobog? Is Shatana- an anagram of Natasha. Even from a meta perspective, they have the same VA. No other trashcan there gets that treatment. None.)
I think they have the same goals, and even hold some of the same views. Natasha's are much more obvious, but still. Sampo says this about Belobog's circumstances:
And he says this as though it should be obvious common sense. That when things are rough, you share and make sure everyone has enough. I think they both share this belief, it's just that they disagree on how to go about making things even. Natasha believes in rallying people for the cause and giving as much of herself as she can to make up for whatever people lack. Sampo believes that if some dipshit with more money than what they need falls for his bullshit and he gets to spread it around? Well hey, that sounds like a whole lot of their own fault.
Natasha is definitely aware of this, and she has no problem threatening Sampo whenever she thinks he's stepping out of line.
She keeps him on a very short leash, which like. Yeah no that's valid fjkdlsajfdklj
Even so, the way she talks about him, like... Maybe it's just me, and my rose-colored glasses, but she doesn't seem to dislike him nearly as much as she could? She kind of just. Says these things as statements about him, without any real vitriol behind them. This is just kind of how he is. She even seems to have a sense of humor about it.
And again! She has so much more to say about him than almost any other character.
I'd like to think part of her...affection? of sorts? for him is simple camaraderie. Circumstances are dire. Past, present, and future are all bleak. Things like that deepen bonds with your foxhole buddies. Sampo is dependent on Natasha for work and pay and a place to get away from the Guards. Natasha is dependent on Sampo for food and medicine and life-saving supplies. They both heavily rely on each other in this harsh environment, and they have a really nice back-and-forth that I appreciate with how they help each other out by owing favors as payment.
And the other part, I'd like to think actually IS because she knows him very well- maybe not things like his past, but she knows some of his personality and beliefs, and finds them agreeable enough. She even has the audacity to call him a poor liar at one point- Sampo! Of all people! Known by someone well enough to be caught out as a poor liar! He's either intentionally leading her on and letting her think she's caught him, or Natasha just really is that good. Neither would surprise me tbh
I think Natasha is also just uniquely prepared to understand Sampo, and is able to see his better sides without letting her judgement be clouded by his slimy manner. She's able to appreciate that his actions ARE extremely helpful, regardless of how he does them.
Even as she acknowledges that he isn't always trustworthy, she does still choose to rely on him and give him chances. She was pleasantly surprised by him here, but she still chose to trust him with this in the first place. She never treats him harshly, and she never seems to bear any kind of grudge with him.
But my favorite example of Natasha being able to understand Sampo? My favorite is this. This one little throwaway line, that didn't even involve him, wasn't even about him. I feel like Natasha is capable of knowing and understanding Sampo on a deeper level than most people can, solely because of this.
She gets it.
(As a fun bonus: In the current trashcan event, there's a simple mechanic where you get one trial character for the initial battle. Then, for the harder stage, you get that same trial character, plus a couple of extras. This is true for every Proof- except for Sampo's. In his harder stage, you use Asta, Black Swan, and Luocha. But in his initial stage, in an event all about friendship and relationships...)
#honkai star rail#hsr#sampotasha#sampo koski#natasha harrower#hsr sampo#hsr natasha#I don't particularly see them as lovers...but given it's all about their relationship in canon I think it's ok to tag as ship yeah?#if any shippers would like to use this as fuel it would make me so so happy haha#I think their relationship is very difficult to pin down but like. there certainly is. something there.#Maybe...saying I see them as an artist and his muse is most correct?#I'm very sleepy rn and it's past my bedtime. I stayed up late to write this but I don't wanna pick it apart later so let's go!#Off with you! Post now!#I don't think I could articulate in any more if I tried anyway. they make my brain whir but it's like. a wordless whir.#I have a hard time putting words to them fjdkslajfkl#so yeah we'll go with that. an artist and his muse#I hope its. at least somewhat understandable orz#Sorry to the anon that asked this like months ago. I hope you see it somehow.#answer#anon
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Hello! I saw your requests opening and before I state my requests, I just want to say that I throughly enjoy your writings. They make me happy most of the time, you write so well. Thank you for taking the time to write such cute little stories or headcanons. đ«¶
Otherwise, I was wondering if you would be able to write Fred and George as little blurbs or headcanons if we wanted to try the pocky game with them! I think it would a cute idea to see how each of them reacts. :)
playing pocky with fred and george weasley.
fred weasley.
the evening sun cast a warm glow over the hogwarts grounds as you and fred weasley found a secluded spot by the lake.
the water reflected the orange and pink hues of the sky, creating a serene backdrop for your date. you had brought a book to read, but fred had other plans.
"hey," he said, pulling out a box of pocky sticks from his pocket with a mischievous grin. "fancy a game?"
you raised an eyebrow, curious. "pocky?"
"come on," he coaxed, "it'll be fun. besides, i promise not to cheat...much."
you couldn't help but laugh, nodding in agreement, but warning him not to cheat.
fred's grin widened as he pulled out a pocky stick and placed one end in his mouth, leaning forward. you mirrored his action, placing the other end between your lips. the game began, both of you nibbling slowly towards the center.
your heart raced as the gap between you narrowed. fred's eyes never left yours, filled with playful intensity. just as you were about to meet in the middle, he used his height to his advantage, tilting his head back slightly, making you stretch to reach him.
"fred," you mumbled around the pocky stick, trying to keep a straight face.
he chuckled, the sound vibrating through the thin biscuit between you. "say you love me," he teased, his voice a playful whisper.
"fred," you repeated, your voice slightly more stern, but a smile tugged at your lips.
"say it," he insisted, the pocky stick breaking slightly from his laughter.
"i love you, you big idiot," you finally relented, leaning forward to close the gap.
fred's eyes softened as he leaned down, finally closing the distance. the pocky stick snapped between you, and he captured your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. when you pulled back, he was grinning from ear to ear.
"that wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his head on top of yours.
you sighed, leaning into his embrace. "you always have to win, don't you?"
"only because i love you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "and because you're the best prize i could ever ask for."
george weasley.
the owlery at hogwarts was quiet and dimly lit, the soft hoots of owls echoing in the rafters above. you and george weasley found a secluded spot among the perches and nests, the air filled with the comforting scent of hay and feathers.
george, ever the prankster, pulled out a box of pocky sticks with a mischievous grin. "how about a game?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow.
"sure thing," you agree, already anticipating his playful challenge.
he handed you a pocky stick and took one for himself, placing one end in his mouth. you mirrored his action, taking the other end between your lips.
the game commenced, both of you nibbling delicately towards the center, eyes locked in a playful duel.
as the distance closed, george paused, his gaze filled with eagerness. "kiss me," he mumbled around the pocky stick.
you grinned, continuing to nibble closer. "maybe if you're lucky," you teased, your voice carrying a hint of challenge.
with a final nibble, you reached the center first, the pocky stick snapping as you leaned forward to capture george's lips in a victorious kiss. he laughed against your lips, his hands coming up to cradle your face gently.
"well played," he murmured, his nose brushing with yours affectionately.
you chuckled, feeling the warmth of his affection enveloping you. "better luck next time," you teased playfully, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
george let's out a laugh, leaning back against a stack of crates and pulling you close beside him. "oh, i'm just getting started."
#hi anon! im so so sooooo glad that my little fanfics make you happy#and thank you so much for reading! hope you like this one aswell<3#fred weasley x you#fred x reader#fred weasley headcanons#fred weasley#fred weasley x reader#george weasley#george weasley x reader#george weasley x y/n#george weasley x you#george x reader#fred weasley x y/n#george weasley headcanons#headcanons#harry potter headcanons#harry potter
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Are your requests still open? Since you said you also watched TFA, could I request a drawing of Jazz/Megatron? They are my faves !! Thanks ^^
As you wish
#7iffer#what was I thinking when I was drawing this#was it supposed to be funny???? ZERO IDEA#anyways#I had an option but chose to draw both of them anyway I planned to do so at SOME point but the earlier the better !!!#Thank you SO MUCH for the ask btw anon!! hope I did them justice aaaaa I didn't expect anyone to request me anything I must admit so#this makes me kinda happy#THAT ASIDE#art requests#transformers#tf#tfa#tfa megatron#tfa jazz#bashing my watermark onto them feels like branding them ngl
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I love aruani sm but lately I feel like itâs getting less fun bc of all the hate they get⊠usually it doesnât get to me but it has lately and idk⊠I still love my blondes but itâs so hard to hehe without having someone come in and talk about how their ship is better etc whatever.. idk if you ever feel like that /:
Hello anon!
I can understand where you're coming from. I've been in this fandom since 2013, and believe me, I've seen a ton of hate xD Where there are fans there are also antis, this is mostly an unavoidable phenomenon and the best we can do is accept it.
But anon, they key is to not give antis any leeway to come and camp out in your space. If you have something you love, be it a ship, a fandom, a hobby or anything, it's yours to love and enjoy. You don't have to let the antis come in and talk shit about it. You see them from the window, they're outside, but don't open the door.
Instead, invite in the people who feel the same way as you.
Tumblr is the only place I'm on, for fandom and community and pretty much everything else, but believe me, I see so many rancid posts here that I actually go: "what the actual fuck". Some of these posts spill into the 'Aruani' tag for no reason at all other than to incite a ship-war. It's really unnecessary and also annoying, but unfortunately some people feed off the drama.
Obviously, I can't block the tag, but if it's really getting to me, I block the user.
Done. I refresh my dash, see the Aruani community posting memes and art and headcanons and mini-fics and everything is still wonderful and fun and good.
These are the people in my house, the antis stay outside.
#stay strong anon!#keep engaging with all of us who genuinely love AA#also - in general but *especially* for fandom#you're not obliged to let anyone come and ruin what you love and what makes you happy#if they are a friend I understand its more complicated than it would be otherwise but still; they should understand that it annoys you#anyway#I hope i helped :3#askies#aruani#attack on titan#aruannie
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Bagel, please, I must see more sillies. Would you ever possibly draw more perfectdolls? (Totally hope I do not sound insane or rude, I just love the cute little drawings you've shared so far!)
hbskjbn?? this is so incredibly nice what???? vjhkskh?????
i am definitely not an artist, but i am so beyond flattered??? huh?????
throws perfectdolls at you
the sillies :D
also here's some ocean/jane too :)
this one is technically fanart for the fic no one deserves to be alone by beepsinquestion (please go read that entire series, it's so good)
i don't really know how to draw jane, but an attempt was made :'D
thank you so much for the ask??? i'm gonna go cry now maybe???? /pos /hj
have a wonderful day :D
#i speedran drawing these tonight for you anon#i got this ask and i was like bdhjksdsdh#i can't just leave you hanging#it's half past midnight now lol#i hope these bad doodles satisfy you :D#i will reiterate once more: i am definitely not an artist#these drawings are incredibly messy and all over the place#the anatomy is awful lol#i just drew these because. perfectdolls makes me happy#also please ignore how every time i draw ocean's hair it looks drastically different. i don't know what i'm doing#sorry i'm rambling in the tags again lol#ride the cyclone#rtc#my art#ocean o'connell rosenberg#penny lamb#jane doe rtc#perfectdolls#speaking to the people
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Decided to make one of those emojis game for roleplayer so:
đ: I want to be your friend.
đȘ: I want to respectfully open the door for you if you're behind me when I'm entering a room and you're also entering that room.
đ: I want to give you a gift.
đïž: You need to go to sleep.
đ«„: I'll come into your life then disappear.
â: Have a star stickers for trying something.
đ·: I want to take a picture with you.
đ„: I want to be in a burning building with you and smile as the fire takes us away from life.
đ: I want you dead.
đ€ą: You disgust me so much I became green.
đ: I want to put bows on you.
đč: I want to stab you with an arrow.
đ«: I want to eat blueberries with you.
đȘ©: I want to go to a party with you.
đ: I want to celebrate new year with you.
đ: I want to celebrate Halloween with you.
đ: I want to celebrate my/your victory with you.
đ: I want to celebrate Christmas with you.
đ„: I want to celebrate anything with you.
đŸ: I want to play video games with you.
đ: throw bread at you.
Indicator of relationships (to put after another emoji):
đ„: platonically
â„ïž: romantically
đŁ: hatefully
đšâđšâđŠ: as family
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Iâm PRAYING for PLEASE work out!!!! You deserve that apparment!!! God! Iâm so excited!
ME TOOOOO!!!
#i am. so apprehensive about the deposit/'pre-paid rent' but im so happy that was even an option because with the doagy#its hard to leave for a full day of work without compromising my friend/s that are willing to help#im just praying i can push myself and make up that income with online work and hopefully patreon#i already have like a 3rd of the money needed so if i penny pinch and do some odd jobs and write my ass off#it's entirely possible!!#aaaaaaah anon im kissin you square on the mouth MWAH#tonight we cuddle in the warm embrace of hope!!!
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I wonder if that's why RamĂłn keeps calling Pac his pai now as well, if he isn't able to see Fit for a while, then maybe Pac will be there to take care of him and they can be a comfort to each other until Fit returns.
that would be such a huge brain play from ramĂłn's admin if he'd started calling pac his pai because he knew what cc!fit was plotting and wanted to plan it out ahead. and it does make sense because if ramĂłn were to not get as involved with pac, the caretaking duty would've been relayed to tubbo who has recently also been spending time with him.
and imagine if pac were to officially adopt ramĂłn as they wouldn't be certain of fit's return and then fit came back to pac being ramĂłn's established co-parent. ramĂłn deserves that second parent after he's had to live with only one dad the longest out of all the eggs. he needs to receive something good out of this bad situation he might find himself in.
#anon you're so smart for making that connection#i really hope the futuro pai thing will be carried over to this point of the lore#also anon you don't even know how unreasonably happy you've made me for sending me my first ask ever haha#//meta#for the first sentence i suppose#fitpac#hideduo#qsmp hideduo#qsmp#qsmp ramon#dino.ask
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Thanks for making a comic about a couple middle aged queers getting to fall in love and be happy. As a someone who is a little on the younger side, itâs nice to see that. That there is a possibility of me and my friends to get to grow up. Plus, Steve has all the gender, and I want it for myself.
There's not much more important in this world than hope, I think, and the idea that maybe my art can make you a little more hopeful for a better tomorrow is all I could ask for <3 So thank you for reading, and thank you for being here!
And mood.
#we deserve to be here.#we get to be here#you deserve to be happy#not just tomorrow.. but now#you deserve to have nice things#and feel loved#and feel seen#and I weep thinking of how many people do not get to feel that#and I can only do my best to maybe make one person at a time see a little bit how important they are#I know it feels shallow#and like empty words#but I truly love you!#and I hope you can feel that just a little bit when you read my comic#I'm not the best with my words...#but I do love you!#and everyone else reading this.#and you deserve that.#if nothing else. you deserve this.#I will do my best for you all#anon#asks
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ima queer catholic and i have to block so many moots who are like 'ffs christians and evil' like mate??? its in my fucking pinned.
#to anon: i make asks unrebloggable when i feel they could be taken by other people in bad faith. it's never an indictment of the ask itself#i don't want to open the floor to debates abt religion vs queerness when that isn't what's being said/the point here#i hope this makes sense and feels fair to you!! i'm happy to change it if not
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Can you explain more what you mean when you say âan identity based framework is inconsistent with material analysisâ?
I'm incredibly critical of the idea that simply having a particular social identity renders one 'oppressed' or 'oppressed enough' to speak on particular issues; if your biggest grievance is how people speak to/about you and not your material reality, then you're doing comparatively well.
For context, I think there are four main forms of structural disadvantage that we should structure our discourse around:
being institutionalised on the basis of one's group, e.g. imprisonment, confinement in certain places like residential schools, confinement in mental health facilities;
being subject to violence on the basis of one's group, e.g. domestic violence, conversion therapy, forceful removal from family/culture;
being impoverished on the basis of one's group, e.g. living in poverty (not just being poor), being prevented from earning or owning money; and
lacking institutional representation, e.g. in politics, in administrative decision-making, in planning decisions.
I find that a lot of online 'activists' can't actually describe what they believe without relying on an identity framework; they'll say that [x] is oppressed, but they won't be able to explain how [x] fits into any of those categories (or whether there should be a fifth category) - they'll just assume that material consequence follows group identification.
#i think the problem is that the vast majority of online activists are middle-class and haven't experienced structural disadvantage#like i don't consider being called a slur a form of systemic discrimination (like being impoverished); i think it's just hurtful#you're going to have to dm me if you want more detail and some examples; my opinions are Unpopular#anon#identity politics#radblr#(i'm happy to hear whether others would add any other categories!)#sorry for the word rant hope it makes sense i wrote it late last night
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Do you know how specific scent training is? Like if you train a dog to find mallards they can find other ducks, but they're not going to indicate at sparrows for instance. So how specific is it?
Hi! So short answer - depends on the dog and how well they contextualize.
If you have a dog predisposed to finding birds, they're probably going to find all birds and then generally learn which ones you (the human) care about. So say for example your dog shows you a crow, a sparrow, a mallard, a teal, and a finch. You reward the mallard and the teal, and you ignore the others. Eventually your dog will release that you only care about some birds and their indication on crows and sparrows amd finches will fade.
If, on the other hand, you have to teach a dog to indicate birds from scratch, you might have to contextualize more. So you'd teach your dog that you reward when they look at ducks in a pond, and then they'd seek out ducks in a pond (hopefully). Then you'd have to teach that you reward when they find ducks in a field. Then ducks on a path in the woods. Then you might have to teach them that you don't care about herons in the pond. And so on and on, depending how quickly they understand what you're rewarding.
It really depends on what connection your dog makes in their puppy brain, and there isn't a good way to control that. But it's a fun thing to try anyway, especially if it's something you and your dog find enriching!
#asks#anon#it isnt so much as 'teach your dog to find mallards and theyll find ducks'#thats not the best example because usually you dont use a dog to find ducks#(ducks live in water so you just go around to ponds to look for them)#a better example is if you teach your dog to find spruce grouse they might find other grouse#but thats not really true either#generally for bird dogs you need to train them on each species you want to hunt#which makes sense because each species lives in different habitats in different environments#so you might have to run your dog in forests for spruce grouse AND alpine terrain for ptarms AND fields for sharpies#before they understand what theyre looking for#its obviously easier for dogs predisposed to finding birds#because they only need a few encounters to form a strong connection#but baby bird dogs point or flush songbirds all the time!#you just have to reward what you want them to find and ignore what you dont want#and hope they make the correct associations in their puppy brains#i looooove talking about this btw#i have read and watched sooooo much on bird dog training for aroris#i am so happy to answer these tysm
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