#Forgive my spelling

[viv-hollande]

While Fëanor definitely has worse crimes, I still think the crime I am angriest about is the burning of the ships of Losgar. It is the perfect combination of meaninglessness and hypocrisy and I will never forgive him for it.

The first aspect of this crime is the meaninglessness. Abandoning Fingolfin's company does nothing but create problems where none previously existed. Fingolfin, to my recollection, had no actual intention of overthrowing Fëanor, and Fëanor's convictions to the contrary are simply his own paranoid delusions. Fingolfin's company represents more than half of the host of the rebelling Noldor, and to abandon is simply folly. Perhaps it is a warning sign that the eldest and wisest son of Fëanor argued against such an action.

In addition to the meaninglessness of the move, there is also the hypocrisy. The Teleri specifically tell Fëanor that their ships are to them what the Silmarils are to him. Fëanor is presented here with the best opportunity to recognize that he has gone too far in the pursuit of the Silmarils, yet he refuses to take it. The Teleri specifically tell him that the Swan Ships are their greatest creations. "But as for our White Ships; those you gave us not. We learned not that craft from the Noldor, but from the Lords of the Sea; and the white timbers we wrought from our own hands, and the white sails were woven by our wives and our daughters. Therefore we will neither give them nor sell them for any league or friendship. For I say to you, Fëanor son of Finwë, these are to us as are the gems of the Noldor: the make of our hearts, whose like we shall not make again."

For Fëanor, greatest craftsman of the Noldor who knows more than any other what it is to have one's treasured creations stolen, to steal from another a work of craftsmanship unparalleled in their own history, is a crime incomparable in both its cruelty and it's hypocrisy. And as though theft were not enough, Fëanor proceeded to destroy these creations which could not be replicated again, even by their original creators. It is desecration and hypocrisy of the highest order. We know how Fëanor reacted to the theft of his own greatest creations; imagine how he would react to their destruction.

In short, fuck Fëanor, he deserved everything that came his way, and I hope his sons suffer in his stead.

I'm kidding. I know that they are Doomed by the Narrative, but I want Maedhros and Maglor to be happy at least.

They probably won't be.

Because I keep torturing them.

Please forgive any spelling errors, I am very drunk.

[alexsworkshops]

Its my first time making a craft like this, so be mercyfull please.

Anywayyy, here is an Anabeth funko-pop costum (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♥

Also, i know i spelled chb wrong, try to ignore it

[waywardstarfishkid]

Outragiously long and stupid rant incoming!

I like never make posts on here but I wanted to scream into the void about heartbreak high. Since s1 I've seen like really strange takes and half the time I'm like is it because people don't know how Australian school is different or is it a lack of critical thinking.

Like in s1 I only saw people either hating or loving spider and don't get me wrong either of those is valid but the way people were explaining it was strange to me.

For me I didn't like spider but not because he was some unrepeatable arsehole I actually think he was a great representation of a lot of Australian guys I knew growing up. Like he says dumb shit but then when things are serious he does the right thing like he helped malakai with the cop (then said fucking stupid things after) and he helped amerie at the festival, he wanted to help harper and let her in even though it would mean he and American would have to stop hooking up.

In comparison I swore people liking dusty who in my eyes was way worse than spider. He acted all woke like he said the right things and then did shitty things like shaming harper and deciding to frame jojo.

Like theyrr both shit but I would trust spider with my drink over but maybe not dusty.

Then ant I understand if you like ant and spider together but I think people maybe don't understand how touchy guys are with each other in Australia. Like gay straight bi whatever guy friends hang off each other and I think it's actually healthy to show that. I also saw someone complaining about spider and ant doing gay shit but only as a joke but I never saw that like I don't think any of it was a joke it just wasn't gay. Like spider calling him pet names them cuddling and stuff is just affection which is actually great especially for men who often don't know how to have affection that's not sexual.

Also can we agree that ant just doesn't care about the gender he's hooking up with like I don't think he's bi I think he's just into who he's into (is that pansexual? Sorry).

I was a bit disappointed with all the bisexual characters ending up in straight relationships but that's mostly because I really wanted an ant malakai and I liked Rowan Malaysia before it went to shit. But at the same time I dont like how people critiquing it often feels like Bi erasure. Like I'm a bi woman whos first gay relationship ended because my gf (lesbian) cheated on me with a lesbian because she constantly thought I was cheating on her with my guy friends and for a long time I just dated guys because I didnt know many bi women and lesbian girls kept being horrified that I would go near a dick (not all of them my ex was very understanding and actually encouraged me to embrace my sexualising when I was just a baby bi) but my point is I totally understand how having a straight relationship when bi can actually be more understanding (at least in mine and my friends experiences) and it's totally valid even though the relationship is straight.

Also people angry about not as much quinni (I agree more quinni she and cash are my loves) I'm actually happy they took a back-seat with her on the relationship front like her and Sasha were a big deal/quinnis first relationship and I think it wouldve really messed quinni up with how it ended. I also love that they're not just centring her storyline around being the gay girl you know like she I a multifaceted queen.

Also for the Sasha redemption, I get why people are calling for it but unlike spider and dusty like Sasha didn't really do anything wrong (except for how she treated quinni but they talked at the end of s1 and seem to be moving to a place of good friendahip) shes mostly just annoying and pretentious like the other idiots actually fuvked up. I don't really want a Sasha redemption I just want to see more of her character make her a bit less of a two dimensional hipster, which I honestly think they only didn't fo because they had a lot of characters to juggled Sasha had to take a back-seat so Missy could shine (and I love Missy so I'll allow it also her and malakais friendship means everything to me the indigenous representation that shows not just the aspects of country and family but also shows them as fully formed characters I LOVE)

Sorry for the obscenely long rant this is just all my thoughts from s1 and s2 so ignore it by all means and also if you disagree that's fine and you are probably right lol.

[invisable-person]

Something about dying together…

rotting and decaying away while clinging to your partner. Such a peaceful and undeniably cruel thing. But we��re together. And that’s all that matters.

Soon our skin and organs will melt leaving only our bones. And when the bugs start eating away at my brain they will only find visions of you. Every little detail of us. The way I called your name, and how you serenaded me with my own. Of your gentle touches, ever so soft but never afraid. They will feast. Cause you are my reason, my every waking thought, even in death.

They will feast until bones remain, a simple shell of us amongst the flowers that bloomed.

We’re together, forever merged into one. Forever holding each other tightly underneath and amongst the soil, like we were always ment to do. This is it, my love. Embrace it. Enjoy it. We have all the time in the world. Our shared eternity…

[frostwing213]

Odyssey AU/Fanfiction I wrote for class 10/10

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Hi, I wrote what is basically fanfiction for class on, you guessed it, the Odyssey . I decided to share it with ya'll.

Essentially, I took the events of the Odyssey, shifted and removed some things, made it take place in modern times, then wrote a 29 pages with over 14000 words piece of fanfiction in a week.

Is it accurate? Lol, no. Is it fun? Yes.

Keep reading to see part 10 of 10:

This better be the last problem. I just wanna be happy at home with my wife and son. Is that too much to ask?

Ody smiled, he was finally here. He was finally back to his hometown of Ithaca, where he’d been born, raised, and married to his wonderful Penelope. Where his son had been born. Where his life was. He took a breath, then started walking. He froze when he saw multiple cars around his house. It almost looked like a house party, but he recognized none of the cars, or anyone outside.

What was going on? Ody narrowed his eyes and walked up to his house, walking through the open front door and seeing lots of people roaming around, talking to each other. He was tempted to shout and demand they leave, but his gut said that wouldn’t go well. Stealth should be his strategy for now.  Somehow, no one looked his way, and he slipped through the crowd, listening to conversations. 

“Gods, where is she?”

“This whole thing is so dumb. He’s probably dead anyway.”

“She keeps ignoring us, stays up in her room all day.”

“She can’t call the cops, Antonius has taken care of that.”

“She just needs to choose someone already, if he’s not dead, then he’s not coming back.” Ody slipped to the back deck and leaned on the railing,  looking to the house, thinking. What could be happening? What were all these men doing here? Was the ‘she’ Penelope? Where was Telemachus? How was he gonna get rid of them? Where was Penelope? Who was Antonius? 

“What’s going on?” He looked behind him to see Athena, who climbed onto the deck. He decided not to question where she came from and said

“I’m not sure.” Athena asked

“You tried asking around? I’ll find Penelope.” Ody nodded and Athena climbed off the deck again as Ody walked to a guy playing on his phone. The guy looked up and asked

“Who are you?” Ody tucked his hands away and said

“Otis, I’m just curious what’s going on, looks like a party.” The man raised an eyebrow and asked

“You new to town or something?”

“Just a traveler.” The man looked him up and down, then scoffed

“Clearly.” Ody shrugged, he knew he probably looked homeless at the moment, if anything it helped hide his identity. He asked

“So what’s happening here?” The man sighed and said

“Long story short, the lady who lives here said that she’d remarry if something happened to her husband, and he disappeared. He either left her, or died.” Ody tilted his head and asked

“So what are y'all doing here?” 

“She completely ignores us if we don’t show up. Eurymachus came up with the idea of hanging out here till she makes a decision. Antonius backed him up and talked to some people so Penelope couldn't call the cops for trespassing or something.” Ody buried his rising fury and kept his face calm as he said

“That sounds like an… interesting situation.” The man shrugged and said

“Not really. It’s pretty boring, just a lot of hanging out.” Ody nodded and slipped away, saying

“Thanks.” The guy ignored him and went back to playing on his phone. Ody walked through his house and looked up at the staircase leading up to the rooms on the upper floor. On the little space that looked out over the living room, Athena popped up and gave him a small thumbs up and motioning for him to stay there. Ody gave a small nod, then walked to a small corner, watching as Athena disappeared. He waited there until he saw Tele poke his head up over the railing and look over before disappearing again. Oh gods, he looked older, his tenth birthday was later this month. Pain slapped Ody as he thought of the six months he’d missed. 

He was drawn away from his thoughts as Penelope, looking as beautiful as the day he left, walked out to the balcony and looked out. He couldn’t help but smile.

Penelope. His life, his love, his queen, his wife. Her eyes cast out over the crowd and he caught the moment she saw him. He smiled and he saw her calm demeanor waver for just a second, flickering to recognition and complete joy before she looked away and her face turned back into a mask of cold impassivity. After a second of Penelope standing there, a man called

“Ah! I see the widow’s decided to visit!” Ody turned his eyes to the man now standing on the coffee table as people began filtering in quickly, all looking up to Penelope. After a moment, the man called

“You just gonna stare at us, or you gonna say something?” Penelope shot a glare at him and said

“I happen to have an announcement, Antionius. I’m waiting so I will only have to explain this once.” Antonius rolled his eyes and called

“And her majesty continues to procrastinate.” Laughter went around the room and Ody wanted to kill all of them right now, but took a breath and pushed down his anger again. Penelope had it under control for now. She must have a plan, and she knew he was here. He just had to wait. After a few minutes, Penelope called

“I’m ready to choose who I will marry. However, I cannot marry anyone before finding my marriage certificate. So I propose a competition. Whoever can find my husband’s safe and unlock it to retrieve the certificate, I will marry. I know not where the safe is, nor the code. But anyone who can think like my husband to find it will be worthy of my hand. That is all.” She turned and whirled away down the hall. Ody smiled and as the crowd quickly began to disperse, searching the house, he slipped away to Tele’s room on the lower floor and stepped up on his toybox to pull down the ceiling hatch, then use the ladder to climb up into the tiny tiny room above his son’s room. He pulled up the ladder and closed the hatch, then moved over to the safe and put in the code. The day his life changed forever. The day he met Penelope for the first time. He opened the door and pulled out his marriage certificate, chuckling as he closed the safe door and leaned against it. A smart plan. Penelope had given a half lie. It was true she didn’t know the safe code, even though she could likely figure it out, but it wasn’t true that she didn’t know where it was. He smiled as the other hatch leading to the tiny room from their bedroom opened and Penelope climbed down. He got up and she ran to him, nearly tackling him with a hug, her face shoved into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, the two of them fitting together perfectly as they embraced. Athena climbed down as well, then helped Tele down, who raced forward and joined the hug with an exclamation of 

“Dad!” Tears welled up as Ody hugged his family and said

“I missed you guys so much. I’m here now. I’m here now.” Penelope let out a small sob and said quietly

“I thought you were dead.” He rubbed her back and said

“I’m sorry. I’m here now.” She kissed him, then pulled away and said with a smile

“And I’m so glad for that. I love you, my Odysseus.” He smiled and said

“I love you too, my Penelope.” She smiled, then brushed her hand over his very scruffy beard and said

“Lovingly, you should-” Ody chuckled and said

“Get rid of the beard, yeah, I’m planning on it.” She laughed and kissed him again. Tele looked up and asked

“Are you gonna make the men leave now?” Ody broke away and said

“Yes, and I know just how to do it.” Athena smiled and said

“Of course you do. Lemme guess, take out the lights?” Ody smiled and nodded, saying

“Yep.” Penelope smiled and said

“You should get cleaned up first. So they recognize you.” He smiled at her and said

“You seemed to have no problem.”

“That’s because I’m your wife.” She replied. He laughed, then looked to Tele and asked

“Tele, do you wanna help with my plan to get them to leave?” Tele nodded quickly and asked

“What should I do?” Ody smiled and said

“While I clean myself up, I need you to gather all the guys in the living room. Say someone found the safe and got the certificate. Then I need you to go to the breaker room. Remember that cabinet I told you not to mess with?” Tele nodded, then his eyes grew wide and he asked

“Can I flip all the switches?” Ody smiled and said

“Yep. When Athena comes and gives you the signal you get to flip all the switches.” Athena nodded and pulled out a walkie talkie from Tele’s room and handed it to him, saying

“I’ll use these.” Pulling out the matching one. Ody chuckled and said

“Sounds good. Time to get started. Penelope, can you go get me some clothes and a flashlight?” She smiled and said

“I love your genius.” He smiled back and said

“And I love yours.” Athena laughed and said

“Alrighty love birds, you’ll see each other in a few minutes. Time to go.” Ody sighed and said

“Alright. Up the door, let’s go.” And the group climbed into Ody and Penelope’s room, Tele and Athena leaving quickly. Ody slipped to the bathroom as Penelope grabbed him some clothes. He took a very quick shower, shaved, brushed his hair, then got changed. He sat next to Penelope on the edge of the bed and she leaned over to rest her head on him, asking quietly

“Why were you gone so long?” Ody sighed and said

“It’s a long story. But I’ll tell you everything.” She nodded, then gave him a look and asked

“What happened after you blew off my friends' help?” He blinked and gave her a confused look. She sighed and said

“The Sirens. They said they saw you, and you refused their help.” His eyes widened and he asked

“They were telling the truth?” Penelope sighed and said

“Yeah. We used to be friends, but after they started stealing from people, we had a falling out. What happened to you after that?” He paused, then sighed as grief rose up and he said

“We got hit by a truck. Everyone else died.” Penelope’s eyes widened and she whispered

“Oh no.” Ody put his head in his hands and said

“A woman named Calypso pulled me out of the wreckage and basically kidnapped me for three months until Athena found me.” Penelope hugged him and said

“I’m so sorry. All six of you were missing, and I know Elpenor stayed with Circe, and Polites got arrested, but oh gods. We’ll set up funerals for them. Gods, poor Citimine.” Ody nodded and said

“I know.” He went to say more, when the lights shut off and he sighed, saying

“That’s our cue. I’ll tell you everything later.” Penelope nodded and let go. Ody grabbed the marriage certificate and flashlight, then walked out the balcony. He heard confusion from the living room. He lit up the flashlight on his face and shouted 

“I’m alive, GET OUT! I will call the cops!” He lifted the marriage certificate and chaos broke out below, with curses and shouts of 

“We’re screwed!”

“That’s Odysseus!”

“Antonius, you’re an idiot!”

“I was never here!”

He waited until they cleared out, then cast his flashlight around and heard Athena say

“Alrighty little Tele, turn the lights back on.” Lights began turning on again and Ody turned off the flashlight, saying as Penelope came out to stand next to him

“I’m gonna get them all arrested.” Penelope chuckled and said

“We’ll get to that. For now, just enjoy being home for a little bit.” He smiled and turned to Penelope, hugging her and saying

“I will. I’m glad to finally be home. I love you.” She leaned into him and said

“I love you too.” He smiled and said

“I’m never getting pulled on another road trip again” Triggering laughter from all in the room.

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You made it. You read my crazy fanfic I wrote in a week. Thank you! I'm impressed!

Hope you liked it!

[girlhelpimlostinspace]

Absol and eveee :D

[aceofspades42]

I feel like the bully in a stereotypical highschool movie

[justalittlechocolatemilkshake]

[drgnflyteabox]

something to remember you by

pairing: soap x fem reader summary: your boyfriend wants some memorabilia of you to take on his deployments. only, he wants his superior officer to take the photos. w.c: 3.7k tags/warnings: dubcon, cucking, mild degradation, oral (m + f, rough), hair pulling, un-negotiated kink, dom!soap, clothed man naked reader, teasing scent kink (m + f), one (1) pussy slap, crying, squirting, unprotected sex, some anxiety, reassurance mid-fuck, overstimulation, some aftercare, abrupt but open ending, reader has some internal shame around sex/kink, reader doesn't rlly like her bf

At first, it’s nothing. Dirty talk, suggestive texts, passing comments while he’s on his second deployment with a hand around his cock and you pretending to be into it.

"Think about it, babe," he’s panting, but it’s less sexy when you can tell he’s deepening his voice on purpose like Christian Bale Batman. "Don’t you wanna give me something to remember you by? While I’m out here fighting for you?"

Corny. So fucking corny. Your feet are kicked up on your coffee table, fuzzy-socked, face schlopped with a cooling gel mask. Quarter past 8 o’clock, and he’s trying to sell you on letting one of his army buddies fuck you and take pictures of you. The absurdity makes you almost laugh.

"…babe?" Oh, shit.

"Yeah honey, I’m here." You’d kind of feel bad, if it weren’t for the ick factor. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, he was fine, it was just that since he’d joined the army he’d inched closer and closer to picking up a mic and dictating which body counts were okay to women over podcasts. That, and he’s gotten hornier. Kinkier.

Which is fine, really. Only you don't consider yourself adventurous. Sex is like a chore, something to put you to sleep, to relax the muscles. Relationships are quid pro quo - I suck your dick, you make my parents think I’m succeeding in life, deal?

Not to mention, you've never even considered stepping outside of the idea that sex is between committed couples only, sequestered away and hidden in the closet like old clothes.

"So, are you picturing it?" Schlap schlap schlap. He must’ve added lotion. "You can say no obviously, ughnnn, but I know this guy really well. I'd, ahhh fuck, sit in the other room."

"Thanks for being so considerate," you sound dry, but you’re honestly intrigued. Life has been monotonous since graduation, the transition from study to office… rough.

You aren’t adventurous. But you’re so fucking bored.

"Can I see him first?" On the TV in front of you, muted, Matthew Macfayden confesses his love tearfully in the rain. You want to be bewitched, body and soul. To feel something.

"So you’ll do it? Oh, fuck-" Not what I said, you think. His voice goes high, reedy, trembling with his orgasm. "See how fucking hot this makes me? I’ll send a pic, give me a sec."

It’s a group photo. He’s dressed in his uniform, head shaved, standing next to a group of a dozen or so men. Outlined, at the far corner with a group of guys big enough to dwarf a good third of the rest, is a man with building biceps and a smarmy grin and a confident, wide-legged pose. Hips jutted out. Fuck, he’s hot. You can see his bulge through his pants, through the picture, under a heavy tac vest.

"Get in, get in!" the apartment is clean for once. At least, clean without you getting sick of his clutter and playing maid. Did he do it himself to impress his friend? That makes you snort, but he doesn’t catch it, too preoccupied with his phone.

"Um, woah-" you start, taken aback. It looks like a porn set. There’s a plastic sheet on the ground in front of the couch. "I thought this was supposed to be casual?"

"It is, babe," he’s brushing you off, same as he did the few days leading up to this. You’d gone through some minor confidence and judgment crises, anxiety building like a balloon about to pop. All of which he’d brushed off.

It’s all fun and games, babe. Plus he’s done this before, he’s like a pro, showed me some videos - that was something you hadn't agreed to, just some pictures for him to take on deployments.

Still, trepidation makes you sweat, makes your thighs stick to the brown leather couch when you sit and try to sip water. Your socks crinkle the sheet.

You don’t turn when he arrives, still too nervous, knees stuck together and hands slipping on the glass from condensation when they start talking behind you. There’s too many what ifs - all reasons you’d used to avoid hookups in college, all reasons you wanted to break through your shell now.

Plus, you’re sick of hearing "did you finish?"

"This must be her," says an accented voice, gruff and maybe amused, "ye feelin' shy?"

No. You’re just nervous. Exposed. One of the only conditions you'd pushed was no cuck chair, but now you weren't sure how to feel to be left alone with him soon. This man is so big, so imposing.

"Hi," you say smartly. He looks just like his photo, only bigger. Bulging muscles and the same wide stance when he comes to stand in front of you. It’s only because you can’t stand sitting face-to-face with his crotch that you stand and hold your hand out to shake.

"And polite!" Loud. He introduces himself as Johnny, which makes your boyfriend's eyebrows raise. "So cute." he takes the liberty of bypassing your hand and grabbing your waist.

Oh fuck, he runs hot. His hands burn, even through your shirt. You feel self-conscious, plain, looking up at his probing blue eyes. They’re so intense, captivating, distracting you from the feeling of him getting closer and closer, till your tits are pressed to his.

"Hey-"

The moment breaks. Your boyfriend is looking at you both, unreadable expression on his face. Is he regretting this? Feeling emasculated, maybe? Hard to feel much sympathy when you’re the one about to get fucked.

And it was his idea.

"I’m gonna go to the bedroom," his eyes squint, flitting between the both of you before he scurries away, pants tented.

"Now that that's outta the way," Johnny grunts. "C'mere." And sits down with a grunt, pulling you to him.

You try to pivot, to sit next to him, but he's strong and coordinated so you wind up in his lap, back touching the arm of the couch and your legs slung over his, bum on one thigh.

"That's more like it, no?" there's that wolfish grin again, so close. One hand rests on your knee, possessively, while the other wraps around your shoulders and plays with your shirt. "Why don't we introduce ourselves?"

The hand on your knee moves to your face, gripping your cheeks in a grip hard enough to push your lips out into an embarrassing pout. You struggle a little, pulling at his wrist, but he doesn't budge.

He pulls his phone out, aiming the camera at your face, recording a video through a text-app. You can that it's a groupchat, assured by your boyfriend before that it was totally private, babe. This is jut between us.

"Now say hello," he puts his stubbly cheek next to yours, rubbing like a cat. "And introduce yourself."

"H'llo," you struggle through it, muffled by his grip. Your name is almost unintelligible, and your jaw starts to ache a little.

"Say, can I please suck your cock, sir?"

Your stomach tightens, right down to your pussy, which gushes a little into your panties.

"Cn'I please suck your cock, sir?" he's so fucking forward, just jumping in headfirst. The loss of control, your being told what to do, makes your clit jump. Sex has never been like this - you've never been so acquiescing.

"Of course you can, bonnie!" you're almost tossed to the floor, no gentleness as he pulls you toward him by the hair so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. He scoots to the edge of the couch, leaning back against it, and uses that strong arm to rub your face on his bulge. "Get me hard."

He puts his phone on the arm of the couch.

You flounder, hands finding his knees and trying to pull back. He doesn't let you.

"Use your mouth, kiss me," his hand finds a firmer hold on your hair as you start mouthing against him, tasting denim, smelling his musk, letting it get to your head and make you dizzy. "That's right, kitten."

His cock starts to chub under his clothes, and you almost wish you could feel it in your mouth. Oral isn't your favourite, but the way your pussy clenches around nothing and drips into your panties is making you think maybe you were wrong about yourself.

"Up, up," your face is rubbed a little raw by the time you sit up, looking at him. Waiting for instruction. "Everything off, except your panties."

You obey, stripping your shirt and bra and then your shorts. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the apartment, goosebumps dancing along your arms and your belly. Self-consciousness almost has you reaching to cover yourself, until Johnny grabs you by the shoulders and twists you just enough that you're back to facing his phone.

"Look at these," he grunts in your ear, fingers finding your nipples. Pulling them, pinching them. It's not for you, it's for the camera. You feel like an object, an accessory, secondary to getting the shot of the rough pads of his fingers teasing you into whimpers.

You've never been more turned on.

"Nice, eh?" he pulls them up and out, which hurts, but draws a line of pure electricity from your nipples to your clit. "Whatd'ye think, L.T?" the name doesn't register. Army stuff, you assume.

You're turned back around sharply again to face his actual cock. He's pulled it from his fly, thick and leaking, while you were getting undressed. It's unfair, really, nice and long and curved.

"Ask me again," a statement. A command, phone discarded.

"Please can I suck your cock, sir?" the words make your cheeks burn, your body quiver, your clit jump.

"Ye can," laughter this time, worsening your embarrassment. His hand finds your hair again, pulling you down when you're too slow to touch your lips to the head of his dick. "I'm gonnae fuck your face, alright?"

Without waiting, he lifts his hips up and thrust into your mouth. It's not as deep as it can go, but you almost gag, unprepared. The next thrust is deeper, quicker. He's letting you build up to it, letting your hands rest on his knees for balance.

Your nose touches his pubic hair, inhaling the scent of him. Any attempt at hollowing your cheeks, sucking, licking, is futile. He's so quick that the best you can do is hang on for the ride, keeping your teeth in check.

Drool builds and spills past your lips, making wet sounds compete with his frankly pornographic moaning. He's a man possessed, using you while you squeeze your eyes against overwhelmed tears.

Finally he yanks you off of him by the hair, holding you up while you splutter from the unexpected change. Your hands go to your face, trying to wipe.

"None o'that, now," he bats them away, giving you a shake when you keep trying. "Leave it." like you're a bad dog.

Strings of spit connect your swollen lips to his cock, thin and gooey, that fall to your bare chest when he sits up.

You're turned, stood up and then guided to the couch to sit. Johnny slaps your thighs to get you to open them, lifting your feet for you so that your heels rest on the edge of the couch cushions.

"Awe, look how wet she is," he holds your legs, exposing your wet panties to him and to his phone, where he takes a few pictures. Again, you wonder about the appeal of this for your boyfriend. It's hot for you. Degrading, but hot. Or maybe more hot because of the degradation.

"Oh god," you say out of shock. You've never been so fucking wet in your life, and god forbid he sees how swollen with arousal you are underneath.

"Naw, just me," Johnny says, rubbing his knuckles over your pussy through the fabric. "She all wet and frustrated?"

You don't answer, hands keeping you sat up, chest heaving. You're still a little dizzy.

Johnny licks over your panties, mouthing over them not unlike what you did for him only a few minutes before. It's nothing, really, but you're so worked up that it startles a long, drawn-out moan from you.

He continues like this, never actually making contact with where you need it, with your skin. Every one in a while he turns his head to the side and grins, taking a picture or a videoclip while you tip your head back and resist begging him to just get on with it.

His nose presses on your mound, where he drags it down to your hole and sniffs.

That's what breaks your resolve.

"Please," you whine. Your voice is rough from taking his cock in your throat.

"Please what?" he opens his mouth and puts his teeth on you, not biting, just letting you feel them. Gnawing gently.

"Please do it," you look down at him, and even though he's on his knees you know you aren't the one in control. "Please lick my cunt."

A laugh, mean and condescending. Your eyes close in shame, pussy burning for attention.

"This cunt right here?" he pulls the gusset aside, whistling. "This desperate little cunt?"

"Yes, please," you curl your toes into the couch.

Something shifts in his eyes, some unrecognizable flash. It feels like danger, like you're in over your head. Johnny takes two fingers and rubs them over your clit, slowly at first, and then quickly when he feels how slippery you are.

Somewhere, a volcano erupts and it isn't comparable to the heat or the feeling of your clit finally getting attention. It zings through you, making you squeeze your muscles, taught and trembling.

The pads of his fingers are a rough sensation on your swollen skin, the worlds best vibrator, ribbed for your pleasure. All he does is rub, up and down over your clit, quickly and until your face starts to scrunch together in orgasm, trembling hard.

Then he pulls back and slaps you so hard on your pussy you scream.

You almost come from it, shocked, legs kicking out, skin burning and clit pulsing with desperation, back bowing. You keep making sound after, a long and drawn out aaaaaahhhhh while he grins like the cat that got the cream. Takes another picture, the click of the camera loud in the face of your disappointment.

The intensity of it almost brings you to tears, looking at him with betrayal and vulnerability in your face. You feel weak all of a sudden, cored, devoured, pulled apart as soft as slow cooked meat.

Your panties fall back over your skin, a minor comfort against the sting.

"Poor girl," Johnny says with false sympathy. "Let me make it up to ye."

Then you're up again, pulled and pressed against Johnny's chest until he pulls your underwear down and rearranges you to sit on his lap over his spread legs, yours dangling on either side.

"Gonna bounce ye on my cock, alright?" you nod. "Sit on it."

You lift your hips, using his knees for balance, and he guides the head of his cock to your hole. Stops you from sitting back right away with a hand on your hip, squeezing the soft flesh there, and holding you there.

"They're kissing," he laughs. You feel it, your cunt mouthing at him like a conscious being, separate from you. "Ye think they want tae meet each other?"

"Can I?" you don't fight to keep the whine out of your voice. You want to come, you want this aching and this emptiness to end.

"Can ye what?"

"Sit on your cock, please."

"Well, since ye asked so nicely," and then he notches himself properly again, and forces you down with two hands on your waist. You shout, arching, head thrown back. "Bounce on it now, kitten. Show me how badly ye want to come."

And oh god, you do. You rock forward, shaking at the feeling of him, no technique to guide you just pure intuition, brain and cunt and body as one. Distantly, the sound of the camera registers, but it only makes you move faster.

He spreads your cheeks, exposing where you're connected, putting the camera close to the wet clench of your cunt around his cock and - oh, he's filming it. There's no click, just the wet sounds of you riding him.

"Thas'right," he murmurs lowly, maybe for show. "You wanna come?"

"Yes!" you lean back, then, sweat slicked back sticking to his shirt, forgetting where you are and why you're here. Everything narrows down to your pussy, but you feel compelled to keep your hands off your clit even though you know it would make you come quickly.

You want to listen to him, to wait for permission. The thought is searing heat through your core.

Fingers find your face, slipping into your mouth. Your lips wrap around them, sucking like you would've his cock.

His other hand lifts his phone in front of you both, snapping shots of your unfocused eyes, your tits pushed into the air, his smarmy expression. He hooks his fingers then into your cheek, pulling back like a fishhook.

"Good girl," his lips against your ear, stubble scratching the hot skin of your neck. "I'm gonna fuck you for real now, alright?"

You nod, desperately. He pushes you up and off of him, face down in the cushion. He's still clothed, for gods sake, jeans rubbing against the backs of your thighs when he drags your ass back toward him.

The mushroom head of his cock finds your cunt again, pushing in, driving you nuts. You're moaning helplessly, letting him take your boneless arms to hold them behind you.

He fucks you like a man possessed, in a short strokes, barely leaving the hot clutch of your pussy. The sounds, if they were bad before, are worse now, wet and humiliating.

Every thrust feels like he's slowly inflating a balloon inside you, like something pulling taut, like pressure about to burst.

"Fuck, wait!" you shout and turn your head. The pressure is insane, mixed up with a building orgasm, twined together. He hasn't even touched your clit, and yet you're on the precipice.

Johnny leans down, lips on your ear. He slows, but doesn't stop.

"What is it, bonnie?"

"I have to pee," you'd have mumbled it before, but the feeling is so strong you can't help but whimper and cry. "Please let me up."

"Ye aren't gonna pee," he laughs. "Trust me, just trust me." Then keeps pistoning into you.

You feel like jello, like mush, the only solid part of you is about to burst and somehow it makes you feel real anxiety, dampening your enjoyment.

"Johnny-" you whimper, emotion clogging your voice. You feel vulnerable, held down and bared.

In need of reassurance.

"You're alright," he leans back down and nuzzles your wet cheek. "Ye can let go, kitten, I've got ye."

You gasp, pulsing hard around him, the feeling back again, before you gush around his cock, a spray so intense you cry as it forces him out of you.

"Good. Fucking. Girl!" he slaps your ass once, twice, on both cheeks. Rubs your flank like a horse and then plunges back into you when you finish dripping down your legs.

This is purely selfish, him fucking you hard now, jackrabbiting his hips into yours. You hear the phone again, just barely, as your ears ring.

You're raw from coming without any touch to your clit, a weird limbo between being on-edge and oversensitive.

"Gonna give me another," he's growling now, getting impossibly faster. You actually really cry when he reaches around to twist your clit, thrashing under him, not sure if you want to leap off the couch or crawl right back into him. "Come for me!" he shouts, pulling up the hood of your clit to really get at you, rubbing rough circles around your beleaguered little nub.

The second orgasm melts your brain out of your ears, so long and drawn out that you're still shivering with the aftershocks as he pulls out of you and paints your back with his release.

You pant, arm one arm dangling over the edge of the couch while you the other covers your eyes.

Johnny rubs a hand on your thigh, light and gentle, patting your bum as he stands. You move your arm just enough to squint at him.

His jeans are soaked.

You laugh, uninhibited, delirious. He laughs with you.

"All you, darlin'!" he takes another shot of you, pulls your legs apart and takes a picture of your wet, sore hole.

"Is she good?" ah, your boyfriend. He has his own wet spot on the front of his pants.

"She's good," Johnny confirms. "Ye need to take care of her now, right?"

Something in his voice changes. A different kind of authority to the one he used on you, one reserved for soldiers. For men beneath him. At that thought, your pussy makes a valiant effort to clench.

"Yeah, yeah," you hear. Your boyfriend has his phone out, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "These are great man, thanks."

You start to sit up, still shaking, but not wanting to have him see you that way.

"Man, you weren't kidding!" he goes on. Johnny frowns and steps forward to clap him hard on the back and grab his nape.

"Run a bath, do it now. Ye got granola bars?"

"Uh, yeah. Hold on."

You're touched by his concern, and wind up soaking in warm bubbles after he leaves. You wonder about the photos, about what you look like. If your boyfriend is satisfied, if Johnny is.

If you were good.

Feels like you were, but somethings changed. Johnny found a soft spot knife-deep inside you and dug himself in, made you fly and made sure you were brought back to earth after, tenderized and then wrapped in comfort.

Beneath the water, you touch your pussy. Not to masturbate, just to feel the soft sore flesh, to remember the feeling of fullness.

Maybe, after his deployment, your boyfriend will want more pictures.

Fresh material.

Beneath the water, your finger curls into yourself and you sigh, satisfied.

[lilybug-02]

do the other breads draw and if so what are their artstyles

All the breads have different mediums of art they enjoy. Though, Devil Bread copies Toasty the most.

Also Mummy Bread-

Anyone can do art.

[lokh]

(ch 40 spoilers) au where qifrey erases olruggios memories one too many times and he forgets qifrey and ONLY qifrey

sometimes using forbidden magic that no one really knows how to wield anymore comes with unintended consequences!

eventually qifrey comes upon a solution, but it will return ALL his memories to him. will he risk it...?

[thesunisatangerine]

playing for keeps – chapter three

alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader

warnings: coarse language, light angst

(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two, three, four]

word count: 8.8k

[1]

Just before you turned thirteen your body, finally, began to change. 

While Alexia’d gone ahead of you a year prior—with her limbs now lanky and sinewy, and her muscles stretched close to the newly grown bones—you were left behind. She’d grown taller, yes; not by much but the two-inch difference (two and a half, as Alexia was always inclined to remind you) felt like a foot to you. So the change was welcome when it finally started, and more importantly, it happened to coincide with something that completely altered the trajectory of your life.

During the spring after your birthday, your father got a promotion at work. To celebrate this milestone, he took you and your mother for a trip around Europe. And as a gift for your hard work and for getting into La Masia with Alexia just a few months before, your parents surprised you with tickets to at least one game in the country, or area, you were visiting. 

In Gelsenkirchen, Germany, you found your destiny. 

Or at least that was how you liked to look at it. 

Before seeing the match between Schalke 04 against Stuttgart, the idea of keeping never entered your mind; you’d played forward your whole life, and you thought that would be the position you’d play in professionally. But as you saw Manuel Neuer controlling the outcome of the game with his hands, a spark ignited within you—this overwhelming surge—and right there and then, you were enlightened to the art of keeping. That spark returned home with you and, playing into the hands of fate, your journey to keeping began.

[2]

The crescendo of the cicadas’ song was this close to lulling you to sleep. It didn’t help that Alexia’d curled herself up beside you in your bed, her head on your lap while her math notebook laid forgotten at the foot of the bed, and her eyes already closed. It was a rare occurrence for the both of you and even more so for Alexia to ‘slack off’—if you were to put it as Alexia had—but this afternoon was a particularly hot one. Summer had practically bled into spring, and even someone like Alexia clearly wasn’t immune to its soporific effect. 

The numbers from the homework you were working on began to blur when you heard a knock downstairs. Out of curiosity or just surprise, you snapped awake. And so did Alexia, apparently.

“You expecting someone?” Alexia yawned, stretching out her long limbs before settling over to her other side. The movement made a lock of hair fall to her cheek which you brushed away with the back of your finger.

“No, it’s probably Mamá’s.” You hummed in answer, relaxing down on your pillow to finally chase that nap that continued to tempt you.

But then came your mother’s voice, “Guille! Hello, my boy! How are you?”

Alexia let out a startled yelp when you jumped out of the bed, now fully awake, tripping on the rug as you rushed into the closet. 

“What the hell? What are you doing?!” Alexia hissed with annoyance but you were too busy trying to get changed to address it. 

You snatched the closest pair of shorts and jersey shirt, and began to shed the ones you had on before you slipped the fresh ones on in quick succession. 

As you did, you began to explain, “I completely forgot! I was supposed to meet up with Guille today!”

When your head popped out of your shirt, you found a deep crease between Alexia’s brows. She was sitting in the middle of your bed, cross-legged, looking very much like a disgruntled cat woken from a nap with the way her hair stuck out in odd places. 

She looked adorable. 

You bit your tongue before you could say it.

Crossing her arms, Alexia retorted, “Why? It’s Saturday.” 

The tone she used made it seem that today being a Saturday was a valid enough reason for you to not go. 

“And it is because it’s Saturday—and no training, Alexia—that I can go with him.” 

At that, her frown only seemed to deepen. You had half a mind to tease her but you knew that’d probably just piss her off even more, although if you were being honest, you didn’t understand just why this seemed to bother Alexia so much.  So instead of teasing, you tried a placating tone, “You could come with if you want?”

Alexia opened her mouth, “I—”

Your mother’s shout cut through the air. 

“Honey? Guille is here for you!” 

You sent Alexia one last apologetic glance. 

“I’m really sorry! Please stay for dinner! I’ll be quick!” 

And with a quick hug goodbye, you rushed out of your room and practically flew down the stairs. At the bottom, you found Guille leaning against the bannister, hands in his short pockets, with a small rucksack on his back who, upon seeing you, gave you a bright smile.

“Hey! You look—” He began but then suddenly, his eyes darkened and the quirk of his lips turned upside down, his tone flattening, “Oh. You’re here.”

In the same second you noticed Alexia beside you, Alexia’d slung an arm over your shoulders.

“Lovely to see you as always, Guille. And I could say the same about you.” Alexia deadpanned, flashing Guille a smile full of teeth, her eyes void of any warmth as she stared at him down her nose. Then she turned to you, her face lighting up as she asked with a little too much excitement, “So, are we going or not?”

“Wait, she’s coming with us?” Guille blurted out, but before you could even answer, Alexia left your side and ran down the steps. 

“Of course, Guille! Come on, keep up!” Alexia exclaimed on her way out of the door, tapping Guille’s stomach as she did—not without force apparently with the way Guille expelled air out harshly. 

When you got to him, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?”

He let out a strained, “Yes.”

You gave Guille an apologetic look, grabbing your ball bag. 

“I’m really sorry for the last minute change. I’ll make it up to you.”

Still clutching his stomach, he said, “Don’t worry about it.”

The three of you got to the field near your place—which you were glad to find empty—without any more incidents. You were faced with another problem as it was only after you’d begun warming up that you realized that in your haste to leave, you forgot to bring water with you. When you told Alexia, she offered to go to the nearest corner store to buy some.

You stretched as you waited for Alexia’s return when Guille suddenly said behind you.

“Here.”

Turning, you found him holding a paper parcel bag. You considered his outstretched hand with curiosity before you met his eyes, taking the bag from him slowly. “What’s this?”

“Just a little something to get you started,” he answered, scratching the back of his head. “You said you wanted to keep, so I thought you’d need them.”

Peering into the bag, you gasped at what you found inside. 

A new pair of keeper gloves.

“Guille, you didn’t have to!”

He shrugged, smiling, “Yeah, but I wanted to anyway.”

“Thank you! Come here, you big baby!” You laughed, throwing your arms around him. Unlike Alexia, Guille was only taller than you by mere centimeters so it was relatively easy to ruffle his hair as you pulled away. 

“Mess up my hair again and I won’t teach you anything,” He threatened with a faux glare as he swept his fingers through his curling locks in an attempt to tame them. 

You rolled your eyes, grinning at him. “Okay, Antonio Banderas. So, what are the basics?”

He imitated you, rolling his eyes before he shook his head slightly, his smile never leaving his lips. Then he pointed to a spot by the goal line. “Put your gloves on and stand right there.”

You did, noting the way your new gloves fit perfectly over your hands and fingers. It felt different—stuffy—and you could already feel your palms beginning to sweat from the trapped heat. When you stood where Guille pointed, he walked around you all the while he instructed you to correct your posture: he told you keep your feet shoulder-width apart, to bend your legs slightly so that your chest was just past your knees, and to hold your palms facing out. 

“The main thing to worry about starting out is your stance. It will take time to get the balance right but once you get it down, you’re set.”

“Is this alright?” 

Guille took a step back and he gripped his chin as he hummed. After a moment of scrutiny, he nudged you back suddenly. It wasn’t quite forceful but it made you tumble down on your rear all the same. 

You smiled at him sheepishly, getting up. “I guess that’s a no?”

“Yep. It looks like you keep your weight on your heels too much.” He crouched down at your feet, drawing a square over the front half of your foot. “Keep your weight spread out around here and you should—”

Guille scrambled back suddenly, yelping as a football went flying past where he was just a second ago and into the net. Turning to the direction where the ball came from with your mouth agape, you found Alexia there with water bottles clasped to her chest, an eyebrow raised, while one corner of her mouth was set in a bemused droop, another ball rolling beneath her left foot.

“What the hell was that for, asshole?!” Guille shouted as he stormed his way over to Alexia. He was in front of her now, looking up at her with flame in his eyes but Alexia remained unfazed. She put the water bottles down before she settled her hands on her hips, cocking her head slightly to the side. 

“I’m sorry, Guille. I didn’t see you.” Alexia said flatly, “And aren’t you supposed to be playing keeper?”

“Really. You didn’t see me? Besides—”

“Ale, I asked Guille to teach me.” You huffed, running in between them and separating them with your arms before things got out of hand—again. 

This wasn’t the first time this… row between them happened. In fact, you noticed it’s been occurring more frequently lately. For all their similarities—the main one being their short tempers—the two never got on well together for reasons you never really understood and the only thread that tied them together was you. 

They weren’t always like this though; they were nice with each other the first time they’d met. Guille transferred to your school not long after you’d joined Sabadell, and if you and Alexia were inseparable there, it was always you and Guille at school. And when an opportunity arose for your two favorite persons to meet, you took it. It went well; they were friendly with each other. You only noticed things had changed after you and Guille’s school team started playing against Alexia’s so you were never sure when this all started, and by that point, the friction between them was too great to smoothen out which both saddened and disappointed you.

And it wasn’t like you never tried to get to the bottom of it. You’d asked them what happened, they both gave similar answers. By that, you meant completely avoiding answering. 

Guille’d assured you, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re friends? Don’t worry.” 

While Alexia’d said with a confused frown, “What do you mean? Nothing happened.” 

And when you pestered her, asked her if the reason was because she liked Guille as a joke, she looked at you without reply, and when next practice came, she made a nuisance of herself enough to let you know the answer to your question and more. 

And here you were again, with them acting like this–always at each other’s throats. 

At your answer, Alexia looked at you, confused. “Why would you ask him to teach you how to keep?”

Your gaze lanced away as you bit your lip.

Maybe you should’ve told her after all… 

Mustering up the courage to meet her eye again, you replied, low and serious. “I want to start playing keeper, Alexia.” 

Alexia blinked, and then she crossed her arms before she eyed Guille who was scowling at her in return. She looked at you again. 

“Have you told Alejandro about this?”

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” A pause. “What did he say?”

“I’ll still start as a forward. But he said he’ll put in some extra technical sessions for me starting next week which was why I asked Guille to help me get started. Alejandro said if I get good enough, he’ll see if I can start as keeper for the team.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over you three. 

You caught Guille’s eyes darting from you to Alexia and back again from the corner of your eyes but you remained focused on Alexia’s face. At a glance, Alexia might seem calm—impassive with the way all of her features remained flat. But her eyelids drooped just so they hid more than half of her pupils, how her lower lip was slightly concealed beneath the upper one; she was pissed and even worse, she was hurt. And knowing that you’d hurt her was enough to compel you to reach out and touch her arm, apologetic.

Alexia regarded you for a moment longer. Another word of apology was on the tip of your tongue when she finally sighed, the corner of her lips tilting up to a half-smile as she spoke softly. “Okay. How can I help?”

You couldn’t help yourself. You threw your arms around her and it felt like a weight was lifted from your chest upon hearing the chuckle she let out.

The next couple of hours were spent with the three of you working together: Guille by the goal who continuously gave you notes and instructions, while Alexia—upon Guille’s signal—would send some shots to the net so you could try and stop them. The first… fifty or so shots went right past you—going easy was never exactly Alexia’s strong suit—but the more you focused on getting the timing right and reading the language of Alexia’s body to anticipate the direction of the ball, you ended the session with a few decent saves. 

It was a rough start but you were satisfied with it.

You’d left to use the restroom but upon coming back, the two of them were bickering once more.

Oh, no. What was it now?

You heard more of their words the closer you got, but you didn’t have to move too close with the way they were shouting.

“Come on, dude! Please, don’t tell me you’re still pissed off about that? It was a fair match!”

“How was that fair, Alexia? The two of you playing together is never fair! You’re both in La Masia for crying out loud! And even more importantly, she was supposed to be on my team! That was the original plan, but you went ahead and took her away!”

“What made you think I took her away?” Alexia crossed her arms, scoffing. “Let’s face it. She likes to play with me more than you.”

“You don’t know that!”

That was the moment Alexia spotted you and before you could even get a word in, she said, “Why don’t we just ask her who she’d rather play with?”

Two sets of intense eyes looked your way and without meaning to, you gulped, taking a step back.

“So? Who would you rather play with: me or her?” Guille asked, eyes wide and pleading. 

Suddenly feeling like you were backed into a corner, you stammered in your panic, “Umm, I—”

[3]

Alexia stayed over for dinner that night. That was normal; what was unusual was she left you alone to do the dishes. You had a feeling where she might be, especially since she’d been mostly quiet throughout the whole evening.

After you put away the last dish in the cupboard, and when your arms were finally free from suds, you took a peek into the living room. She wasn’t there—a confirmation of her whereabouts.

Putting on your flip flops, you headed out of the back door. 

The light from the living room casted a faint glow that dissipated the darkness around the garden when you opened the door that led out to it, aiding you just enough to see Alexia on the swing, sitting still with her back hunched forward. Once you were just a few paces behind her, you saw the contours of her headset, but even with them on, there was no way she didn’t know you were there—the fact that your shadow stretched to reach her before you did was a dead give away. Yet still, she made no move to acknowledge your presence.

Okay. That was fair.

“Ale,” you said softly. 

She gave you a glance before she went back to looking down at her clasped hands. 

“Alexia, come on.” 

Still no response. You fiddled with your thumbs as the moment dragged on. 

You sighed, sitting down on your heels next to her.

“I should’ve told you about the keeper thing,” you muttered. “I wanted to get a feel for it first, to get a bit better at it before I told you. But I didn’t consider how that would make you feel… and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel that I didn’t want or need you by my side, Alexia. I wanted you to think I was good enough for this.” 

Finally, Alexia turned to you, taking her headset off, the movement barely above a whisper. And softly, she spoke, “What made you think that I’ll think you’re not good enough for anything?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted, pulling at the grass in front of you. Your mother would probably see the hole you’d made on the lawn and berate you for it in the morning but you needed something to keep your hands busy. “I just wanted to go through this without too many expectations. And it’s not like I don’t want to keep our dynamic going. I love playing forward with you, Alexia, but I think keeping is my calling, just like midfield is to you.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I completely understand. You didn’t want any added pressure. I’m not going to hold that against you.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled at her. Then, “So, tell me why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking!” Alexia huffed with indignation. Then she looked away again, working her lower lip between her teeth.

You put a hand on her knee. “Alexia, what is it?”

“I…” Alexia sighed, brushing the bridge of her nose with her thumb. You gave her another moment. She heaved another breath before she began.

“That thing you said… Did you really mean it when you said you’d rather play with him than me?”

Oh. So that was what this was about.

“Of course not. We both know it’s always going to be you, Alexia.”

“Then why did you tell him that?”

“I feel like if I didn’t, I’d lose him as a friend.”

“And you’re not worried about losing me?” Alexia cried out, her tone inflected while her eyes reflected her hurt.

You blinked at her. 

There were moments—just like now—where you’d feel a sudden urge to shake Alexia. For all her sharpness and unmatched awareness, she sometimes failed to see even the most obvious of things. Couldn’t she see that you loved her and that you’d follow her to the edge of the earth if she asked you to?

At the absurdity of her question, you really couldn’t help but laugh. You stood up and shuffled behind her before you threw your arms around Alexia’s neck, draping yourself over her broad back, which made the swing move forward. The dampness of her hair felt cool against your cheek, the scent of your shampoo that clung to them filled your senses as you chuckled into her ear. 

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”

“Because, Alexia, do you hear yourself? I love you, you idiot!” You giggled again. “I know our friendship isn’t that shallow that I’d lose you over this. Or am I wrong?”

Alexia turned her head and you saw a hint of a smile on her lips. “No, I suppose not.”

A pleasant silence blanketed you both. And then Alexia hummed.

“But if there was something that could break us, what do you think it would be?”

You stopped to ponder, twirling a lock of Alexia’s hair with your finger, noting her hair was nearly dry now. When your mind drew blank, you replied nonchalantly, “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Good.” Alexia leaned away so she could give you a lopsided smile—an earnest one. “Because me neither.”

[4]

“—you okay?”

You blinked and turned to Alexia. “Hmm?”

She glanced at you for a moment before she turned back to what she was doing, sleeves rolled up as she scrubbed a plate in the soapy water in the sink.

“I said, are you okay? Is there something wrong? You’ve been out of it since practice.” When a moment of silence lapsed, Alexia added, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you on your swing the past few days, too, because I did.”

You looked out the window and watched how the rain sluiced down the glass pane. In the darkness behind the window, you saw glimpses of soaked, curly locks and heard the hasty confession all over again.

You sighed, blinking the memory away.

“Guille asked me out.”

The sound of glass shattering and metal clanging made you jump, and you watched as a casserole pot twirled like a top on the hard, kitchen floor, while fragments of a broken plate skittered out to different directions. 

“Oh, shit!” Alexia cursed, looking down at the mess, while a voice called out from the living room. 

“Alexia, is everything alright in there?'' Came Eli’s voice. A few seconds later, Jaume’s head popped into the kitchen. He glanced at you then his eyes settled on Alexia who was crouched down, looking up guiltily at her father.

“Are you okay, girls?”

“Yes, Papá. I just… dropped some stuff.” Alexia said. You crouched down, too, about to pick up a fragment when Jaume spoke.

“Don’t pick that up, love, you might cut yourself. I’ll do it.” 

Jaume shooed the two of you to a corner he deemed safe and the both of you watched as he picked up the pieces, throwing them in the bin by the back door. Afterwards, he gave Alexia a kiss on her temple, and you a hug and a ruffle to your hair, as he retired for the evening, leaving the two of you again in your own company. Alexia went back to the sink to finish up whatever was left, and you returned to your place on the counter beside her. 

The silence that intruded was cut short by Alexia when she cleared her throat, “So… what did you say?” 

“I haven’t said anything, yet,” you sighed again, looking back out the window, the questions coming back full force. In the eight years you’d known Guille, how long had he harbored those feelings for you? When did it happen? What did you do to make him feel that way?

“Do you like him?” Alexia’s question brought you back to the present.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want him?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” You laughed slightly, glancing back at Alexia who shrugged her shoulders in answer.

“No, I don’t think so. Desire is a drive, like it makes you want to act. Attraction is just… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s a weaker feeling. And they complement each other but they’re not the same.”

“And you know this how exactly?” You asked her teasingly, a brow raised.

Alexia averted her eyes, and shrugged your question off with a laugh.

In the moment of silence that followed, you traced Alexia’s profile, and your gaze ended at the elegant curve of the bow of her lips. She looked so pretty casted in the candescent glow of the kitchen light that it made your chest ache just by looking at her. You dropped your eyes to your feet as your mind ran faster than before this entire conversation happened.

Clutching your arms tightly across your chest, you muttered, “I don’t know what I want.” 

[5]

Maybe hoping it would all turn out fine was a bit naive because naturally, Guille didn’t take your rejection well. It was your fault really for expecting otherwise but nevertheless, the inevitable discomfort of disappointment settled like lead in your gut. 

The thing was, you were ready to give Guille the space he needed to accept your boundaries—friends, or nothing at all—and to heal. But accusing Alexia of making you turn against him? Now, that was something you couldn’t let pass. 

He knew he’d crossed a line, too, with the way he kept avoiding you. At first, the silence didn’t bother you; he was hurt, after all. But when the apology never came, you understood that you’d be going through your last year of high school without your closest friend there by your side.

A fortnight passed without any word from him so it surprised you when he showed up at the local meetup that the three of you used to go to. He refused to meet your eyes but he had no problem leveling with the glares Alexia kept giving him. And when you ended up in Alexia’s team, the only sign of his distaste about it was the way his lips flattened to a line. He looked like he was about to say something, but with a slight shake of his head, he turned around and made his way to his teammates.

With one last look at Guille’s retreating back, you tuned back in your team’s conversation.

“—doesn’t need to play keeper. We need her more in the offensive.” Alexia said evenly but when you met her eyes, there was a clear question in them. 

You gave her a slight nod to let her know you were okay. 

She nodded back.

“How will that work? She’s the better keeper.” And then Marco added, “No offense, Julia.” 

Julia only shrugged carelessly, a gesture of nonchalance.

“Julia is perfectly fine and besides, with you, Benji, and Carmen, our backline is already strong. The four of you together lessens our chance of conceding.” Alexia paused, looking over her shoulder to the other team before she faced you all again, continuing, “Our priority is the offensive. What good is a strong backline if we can’t counterattack? That’s why I’m suggesting she play as forward in the meantime, while Martina and I will play as interiors. Does that make sense?”

A collective nodding occurred.

“So just to clarify, we’re playing three–two–one?” Benji asked.

Alexia hummed, nodding her head. “Mostly. If we find the space and some opportunities, we can easily do three–one–two.”

“No pressure on us defenders, right?” Carmen said with a laugh, if not with a hint of nerve. 

Everyone laughed but at the end of it, Alexia placed a hand on Carmen’s shoulder. “No pressure because you guys, as I said, are very strong. You got this.”

Carmen smiled at Alexia at that, nodding before she finally moved to her spot. As you and Alexia moved towards the middle of the pitch, Guille was introduced to your line of sight, and a weight pressed in your gut. Disappointment? Perhaps. Or maybe you just actually missed talking and hanging out with him.

Alexia’s teasing tone pulled away your attention from Guille.  “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to play forward from all the keeping you’ve been doing.”

“Four years of keeping against the five years of playing forward? You need to brush up on your math ‘cause I think you’ve forgotten how to count.” You said dryly, giving her a look so dirty that had her throwing her head back in laughter.

Alexia leveled you with an unimpressed look but her tone remained playful. “You are such a bitch sometimes. You know that, right?”

“Thank you. I do try, you know. It’s my only defense against your smart-mouth.”

“Stop denying you don’t like my teasing.” Alexia waggled her brows as she smirked. The way she looked just then—with both hands on her hips, the ball beneath her left boot—your throat dried, heart racing; a sensation that’d familiarized itself to you during its recurrent visits over the past few weeks. Your mind blanked out, clear as the white of Alexia’s shirt, and when no words came to you to retort back, you shook your head and just laughed. By the time the game started—or maybe it was because it started—the feeling finally went away, replaced by the adrenaline that shot through your veins the moment Alexia kicked the ball to you.

It proved to be a tight game. The main strategy of the opposition seemed to be to mark and shut you and Alexia down whenever the ball so much turned your way. Alexia was right to trust your backline: any counterattack from the other team was dealt with immediately, and Julia only needed to save a handful of shots that passed through your defense, which she handled well.

At last, your team finally made a breakthrough.

Alexia cut a diagonal through the box, taking two of the defenders as she did, freeing up the space just behind her. You knew what she was doing so you faked a sidestep, turning quickly to lose your marker, before you sprinted in towards the middle of the box. And as you anticipated, Alexia sent the ball back to you with a flick of her heel. Now, if you could just—

The ground tilted, and there was a moment where the whole world suspended. It lasted for less than a breath before everything—the sensations and sounds—came rushing back in.

You slammed to the ground. 

Air was squeezed out of your lungs from the impact, while your skull and teeth rattled within the confines of your skin; the taste of green, earth, and copper spread on your tongue. Muffled shouts and grunts filtered past the ringing in your ear but when you cupped a hand over your tender ribs, your resulting groan was all you could hear.

When you finally came to, Alexia’s face was over you, the doubled image of her finally merging into one. Her wide, hazel eyes looked on you with worry and you felt the warmth of her fingers as they grazed over your face: from your temples down to your cheeks which she took in a gentle cradle.

“Alexia?” You let out another groan as you turned on your back while Alexia helped you.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

There was a tension that constricted around the front part of your head, but you could feel the blood pulsing most on the side that collided with the ground. “My head… it hurts.”

“Okay, okay. Just lay down for now, I’ll get you…”

You seemed to have passed out after that because one moment you were lying on the fields, and the next you were beside Alexia on her living room couch. You had a vague recollection of being carried on Alexia’s back, but the feel of the strong plane of her shoulder against your cheek remained there, warm and comforting. 

And only then, after Eli gave you ice for your head, did you see the bruise that bloomed deep in the skin of Alexia’s jaw, just below her left cheek, and the scuffed knuckles of her right hand which were splotched with deep reds and purples.

You took her hand onto your lap, gently running over the ice for your head over her knuckles, while you looked at Eli sitting on the opposite couch with Jaume beside her. Eli’s face burnt redder than you’d ever seen before, while Jaume held onto her hand, circling his thumb over the top of it in an attempt to calm her down.

Alexia remained quiet the whole time, eyes casted down as she took her mother’s reprimanding words. There was the unmistakable shine of shame in them, her guilt, but also an unwavering quality that stood for what she did. At the end of it, Eli and Jaume hugged the both of you before letting you retreat into Alexia’s room as you waited for your parents to arrive.

Instead of getting on her bed with you, Alexia plopped down on the floor just by the foot of the bed, her back against the wooden bedframe. You regarded the back of her head, her neck curved downwards, and you suddenly felt the need to be close to her so you shuffled off her sheets, and got down beside her. 

“Thank you, but your mother was right, you know? You shouldn’t have done it, Alexia.” You mumbled, unfurling her fingers to rest on your knee so you could access more of her knuckles that way. Gently, you placed ice over it, but she still hissed in pain. “You shouldn’t have punched him.”

“Why not? He deserved it.” Alexia said evenly as she stared at the far corner of the room. “And before you start defending him, you didn’t see what I saw—what the rest of us saw. He didn’t even touch the ball—it was all feet. He meant to trip you up.” 

Warmth bloomed in your chest at her words—at how her action showed just how much you meant to her—but the discomfort in your gut marred the surge of your affection for her. 

You took a deep breath, sighed it out, and it tasted like disappointment. 

“Alexia, I appreciate the gesture, I do. But you can’t just hurt people just because they did something to me.” 

Alexia puffed her chest and proclaimed, “I can.”

“Stop that nonsense, Alexia. I mean it.” Firmer now, you said, and there was a hint of desperation in the intonation of your words. There was an urgent need to make Alexia understand the gravity of what she did, what future implications it held if what Eli and you told her didn’t sink in now. “Actions like this can jeopardize you, Alexia, and all the things you worked hard for. Do you understand that? What will Alejandro say when he sees you all bruised up next practice? And if I get tackled dirty during a game and I get hurt, would you risk a red card, or suspension, for behaving like this?”

Alexia became silent, the muscle in her jaw working, and when she turned to you with her mouth open and you spotted a defiant crease in her brows, you were quick to stop her.

“If the answer to that question isn’t no, Ale, I don’t want to hear it.” The sound of teeth clattering filled the air. She casted her gaze aside again, her cheeks growing a shade deeper. “Look at me, Alexia.”

When she kept her eyes glued to the floor, you dropped the ice pack to take her face in your hands. She flinched from the coldness of your fingers but as you looked into her eyes, rimmed with redness and framed by drooping eyelids, you found exhaustion and the shine of apology. You brushed away a matted lock of hair from the tail end of her brow.

“You have a good heart, Alexia, but you have to promise me. Please don’t do something like this again. Ever.” 

Alexia looked into your eyes, deeply as if in contemplation, and then she closed them. A moment later, she sighed, sagging into your touch as if a weight had left her shoulders, before she opened them again. 

“I promise.” 

This time, you believed her.

Smiling softly at her, you whispered, while you placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”

Settling into the moment, you rested your head against Alexia’s shoulder, her bruised hand in yours. In the brief silence before your father arrived to pick you up, Alexia spoke in an earnest tone that made your stomach flutter.

“I know you can handle yourself, but that won’t stop me from having your back.”

At her words, your heart felt like it would burst your chest open. And you should’ve known that this was where you’d end up—with her, it seemed inevitable anyway—because the years of you’d known Alexia flashed quickly before your eyes, and the memory stopped to this person beside you, haloed golden by the warm glow of her bedside lamp, and you were hit with a realization that took what little breath you had away.

You liked Alexia.

And, even more importantly, you want her.

[6]

When you got on the field in a Barça jersey for the first time after your return, you didn’t expect to be welcomed like you did. Jona subbed you on after the first half and as you left the tunnel, you heard the crowd chanting your name. The cheers made you feel excited, accepted and seen, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t pressure you at all.

It was originally intended for you to come on during the last twenty minutes, but seeing as Caro, Patri, and Alexia gave the team a comfortable enough lead, Jona decided to sub you on ahead of schedule. You didn’t see much action on your end though, something that you didn’t mind at all—a quiet defensive-third was the best kind. The midfielders kept the midline high to sustain pressure in the offensive-third, while the defenders maintained such a tight backline that any loose through-balls sent to the opposing runners were called offside. Of course, there were a handful of times when you needed to get out of your box to ping the ball back into the offensive, but other than that, it was quiet. When the match ended, you were satisfied that Barça had another clean sheet and four goals to add to the season tally.

For the celebration, you moved with your teammates around Estadi Johan Cruyff, and during the procession, you spied your parents, Eli, and Alba who was talking to a raven-haired woman you’d never seen before, clapping and cheering. Warmth filled you upon seeing your family in the stands again—such a scene was a luxury when you were in the States because plane tickets weren’t exactly cheap—and when you felt the familiar weight of Alexia’s arm slung over your shoulders, the fabric of her captain armband against the skin of your neck, it felt like a perfect homecoming.

Well, almost.

After you’d showered and changed to your casuals, most of the crowd had gone while some lounged about, one of which was the raven-haired woman Alba was talking to. When Alexia took her hand, you knew instantly, and your heart—damn your heart—dropped.

“This is Diana,” Alexia said after the both of them made their way to you. And if it wasn’t their intertwined hands that revealed what they were to each other, their gaze—saccharine when they met—made it all the more clear the nature of their relationship long before Alexia said the words, “my girlfriend.”

Diana beamed up at Alexia, her cheeks deepening in color before she regarded you again, sticking her hand out towards you to shake. Preceding the intention, you took her hand and when you did, Diana placed her other hand over yours, clasping your hand between her warm palms.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. Alexia’s talked so much about you.” 

She did? Your eyes flitted to Alexia but when she shied away from that, you focused back on Diana’s face. She was stunning: with her high cheekbones carved to elegance, her brows following the perfect line of her temple, her full lips painted with a terracotta shade made deeper by the bronze of her skin, while her loose, straight, raven hair framed her face in such a way that accentuated the sharpness of her jaws. Her eyes were dark but still light enough to see the outline of her pupils, and they had an amiable shape that reflected her warm nature. And for some reason, her light brown eyes looked really familiar—

“Ah! My favorite cousin made it, after all! Although I’m not sure it was me you went to the game for!” Tori’s playful voice resonated in the near-barren corridor. Diana’s eyes flicked somewhere behind you—to Tori, you supposed.

“Don’t be like that, Tori, of course I came to see you, too!”

“Lies!”

Diana shook her head, laughing, as she took Tori in her arms. “Come here, you!”

In response, Tori said something in Portuguese that made Diana laugh. When they broke apart, Diana said, “Forget you? Never. Especially when I owe you one.”

“Owe her what?” Alexia asked with her brows creased with curiosity.

Diana took Alexia’s hand and squeezed it, looking up at Alexia with a gentle expression. “For giving us the chance to meet.”

“Damn right!” Tori exclaimed, putting both hands on her hips, as she grinned so wide that her dimple showed. Tori must’ve seen your confusion because she leaned in to whisper, “I brought Diana as my plus one for last year’s Ballon D’Or ceremony.”

You allowed your mouth to drop open before you smiled, letting out a small laugh that made your chest ache. “Ah, I see.”

“She kept complaining about going but now, aren’t you grateful I took you away from your precinct, Detective Beauregard?” Tori teased.

“She’s never going to let us live this down, will she?” Diana muttered dryly to Alexia but it was deliberately loud enough for all of you to hear. In response, Alexia threw her head back laughing. 

“You’re a detective? That’s amazing!” You said, impressed.

“Please, Tori’s exaggerating. I work in forensics. DNA analyst is the correct title.” Diana threw Tori a dirty look to which the other woman raised her shoulders in response. “It’s a whole different world compared to yours so—and please don’t let this get to your head, Tori—I am grateful I was able to step into it.”

Her eyes, still locked with Alexia’s, grew all the more soft.

“Get a room, you guys,” Tori said with a mock sound of disgust, and then she continued to mutter, “And to think that you’ve only been going out for four months… I don’t even want to think about how it will be like in another three months.”

At that, Alexia raised a brow and then, “Want to do some extra laps tomorrow?”

You and Tori knew Alexia was joking, but Tori being Tori, she spluttered, “That would be a hard no, Captain. I’ll just—Have a great night!” 

With that, she ran away, arms flailing behind her in an exaggerated manner as she hastily made her exit. The sight drew laughter from the three of you.

“We’re having dinner at Mamá’s, want to come over?” Alexia asked.

You shook your head, flashing a look at Diana, before you told Alexia,“Not tonight. I’m just about to head over to my parents’ as well.”

“Alright. But Alba’s going to ask about you, you know? I think she wants to hang  out with you.”

You laughed. “Tell her to text me. She’ll know what that means.”

“Is that something I should know about?” Alexia smirked.

Flatly, you retorted, “If it’s something that concerns you, I’d be telling you by now, right?” 

“You see what I have to deal with?” Alexia told Diana, almost whining.

Inching backwards, you said as dry as you could manage, “I’ll take that as my queue to leave, Alexia might start crying. She’s a crybaby, you know?” 

“Hey! I’m not—”

“No need to be embarrassed about it, Alexia. Be proud!”

Diana only laughed, saying, “Alright, kids, I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Nodding, you grinned at Alexia while she mouthed the word ‘bitch’ to you. In kind, you mouthed ‘smartmouth’ back. With a shake of her head and a smile, she gave you one last hug, and after a pleasant goodnight from Diana, the three of you parted ways.

You sent them a look over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the watch around Alexia’s left wrist. It glinted as they walked together down the corridor, hand in hand, looking as in love as any new couple would. 

The sight made you smile, but it felt heavy, and as if the universe wanted to rub salt to the wound, you found Patri outside the locker room when you turned around with a look akin to pity in her eyes.

[7]

The next day, Guille stopped by at your place. He’d given you notice a few days prior but even still, the moment you saw him behind the door, you squealed like you were ten again from your excitement. After you hugged him tight—he made a choking noise when you did to tease you—you held him at arm’s length to see what changes the last few months had done to him.

He looked different. Gone were the long, dark curls; now sheared close to his scalp that left only about an inch of length, his hair retained their luscious shine, their color still as dark as night. 

His scar—the one just by the tail end of his left brow—that used to see little light from the obstruction of his hair, now stood apparent and without meaning to, the day he got it came back to you: the bruised knuckles, ice-cold fingers, and the warm blush of a lamplight.

 And your chest ached a little.

Leading the conversation to the living room, the two of you ended up ordering takeaways—mostly for Guille’s benefit because you weren’t about to subject him to your football diet—and as you ate, the two of you caught up.

Guille was close to finishing his dissertation—the biomechanics of concussion in sport and its neurocognitive implications—and he was both excited and fearful about what would come next. He then talked about his girlfriend, Iris, smittenly if you might add. She was actually with him in the city, but his mother insisted she steal Iris for the day for some quality bonding, and you laughed at the repertoire of stories he’d relayed in great detail about his mother’s teasing of their relationship.

“When am I going to meet Iris?” You asked with a teasing tone.

He rolled his eyes, “Well, since you’re actually staying in Barcelona this time, we can arrange that.”

A pause, and then, “Is Alexia staying here, too, or are you here by yourself?”

“No, it’s just me here.”

“Oh. I thought the two of you’d be rooming again like—” Probably seeing your change in demeanor, Guille cleared his throat as he ate his pasta a bit too eagerly. “Speaking of, how is she?”

The question was casual but you knew it was anything but.

“She’s doing good, if not a little stressed. Our first Champions League game is just around the corner after all and it’s against Chelsea, so.” You shrugged to complete your thought. You knew what he was asking but you’d rather not talk about that.

His eyes could burn a hole on the side of your head by the way he stared at you in the silence that followed. Then he sighed deeply.

“She still doesn’t know.”

Tension filled every inch of your body and you shrank tight as a coiled spring. You stood up as you felt a sudden urge to get away from him, taking the used plates on the coffee table as a pretense to move from the couch to the sink.

“What’s it to you if she doesn’t know, Guille?” You asked flatly, rolling up your sleeves after you turned the tap on.

“I just want you to be happy. Is that so wrong?”

“And who says I’m not?” Your tone was flat and when you glanced at him over your shoulder, Guille only gave you a pointed look.

Then he said softly, “She could make you happier and you know it.”

And there it was again, that look in his eyes that you just couldn’t stand. Gritting your teeth, you gripped the edge of the sink and your voice quaked when you spoke. “Please stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” you tried to find the words but when they evaded you, you huffed and threw your hands up in the air. “Why are you making it sound like I have a chance?”

“Because you do! You’re the one who’s not giving Alexia a chance by not telling her.”

“Give me one good reason why I should.”

“She loves you.”

A pause.

“That’s bullshit.” You shook your head, letting out a small, disbelieving laugh. As much as your heart wanted that to be true, you knew otherwise.

“It’s really fucking not.” Guille countered.

“If she did, she wouldn’t have said what she did.” 

“People say stupid shit when they’re drunk.”

“That can go the other way, too. Alcohol has a way of loosening what’s been bottled.”

“Oh, come on!” Guille scoffed. “You’ve known her since you were eight. You’ve been through thick and thin together! Do you really think she wanted you to leave?”

With the reminder, the memory sprung up on you and you could hear Alexia’s voice, grating and wrenching your heart raw again when you heard the words from her lips. You whirled around to face him, eyes burning.

“You weren’t there when she told me, Guille!” You breathed out sharply and then you continued, in a lower tone filled with resignation, you whispered as you buried your face in your palms. “You didn’t hear the way she said it. You didn’t—”

You choked on your words. 

After all this time, it was still too painful.

Darkness filled your vision but the tears escaped nonetheless, branding tracks down your cheeks. You heard the rustling of clothes followed by soft footsteps. Before you knew it, Guille’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and his familiar, comforting scent made you sink into the embrace.

“You’re right. I wasn’t there. But if you could forgive me for being an asshole and what I did to you, why can’t you do the same with her?”

You didn’t say anything after that, only clutched at his shirt a little tighter.

Guille kept quiet, too.

The both of you knew just the reason why.

[8]

“Did you see the news?” Jona asked as he kept the door open for you to an empty meeting room, closing it as soon as you’d gone in. 

Sitting down on one of the cushioned chairs, you said, “I did.”

You saw it this morning and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t faze you. 

Jona nodded, taking the chair across the table from you. He put his clasped hands on the wooden surface and the way he tapped an erratic rhythm with his thumbs didn’t help your nerves.

“Lyon paid a hefty transfer fee for her and that makes me worried. I don’t know what Bompastor is planning to do with her but her transfer to the European league will be a concern for the club.” With a pensive crease appearing between his brows, he continued. “You probably know why I asked you to come in.”

“You want me to tell you what I know about her.”

He nodded, leaning forward as if to emphasize his point. “She’s a lethal forward and you’re the only one in the club who’s ever played with her. In fact, you two seemed very close during your time in Angel City.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back into your chair, frowning slightly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

Jona blinked at you.

Then slowly, “Surely you must’ve trained closely together considering she’s a forward and you’re a keeper? Unless training was vastly different in Angel City, then I’m sorry for the assumption.”

“O–Oh, I thought you were implying—” You shook your head, uncrossing your arms as you waved the rest of your sentence away. “Never mind. But yes, that’s right.”

Jona gave you another questioning look before speaking again. 

“She’s going to be a big problem. And that’s why I’m going to change things up a bit. I want to put you in the starting lineup as soon as possible—put as many games with our current team under your belt. We’ll most likely face Lyon in the Quarters and that’s unfortunate but what is great is that you’re here: the best counter to what Lyon acquired. If we could eliminate Lyon early, we have a higher chance of winning this year’s Champions League. The question is, are you ready for it?”

“That’s what I’m here for, Jona.” You said seriously, ignoring the pressure that pressed in the periphery of your mind.

“Use me.”

[jarpadandjensens]

#SPNWEEK | day one | Iconic Supernatural quotes | 14.12

[zaunbinary]

“why can’t two men be friends?” i don’t think you guys can let anyone just be friends i think you just hate gay. people speaking up about how annoyed you are about people shipping jayce and viktor or silco and vander but saying nothing about how people also ship sky and viktor or silco and/or vander with felicia when the most the latter three did was sit in a room together and one has a whole mostly offscreen husband

[frostwing213]

Odyssey AU/Fanfiction I wrote for class 9/10

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Hi, I wrote what is basically fanfiction for class on, you guessed it, the Odyssey . I decided to share it with ya'll.

Essentially, I took the events of the Odyssey, shifted and removed some things, made it take place in modern times, then wrote a 29 pages with over 14000 words piece of fanfiction in a week.

Is it accurate? Lol, no. Is it fun? Yes.

Keep reading to see part 9 of 10:

Athena for the win

Three months. Three long, long, long months passed. Three months had passed, making it six months away from home. He’d been trapped in Calypso’s basement for three months. For three months he’d been trapped, trying to stay away from her as much as he possibly could. His friends were dead. His wife and son must think he was dead. Everything had gone wrong, and he just wanted to go home. He wanted to see his family, he wanted to kiss his wife and hug his kid, he wanted to wear his own clothes, he wanted to shave, he wanted to sleep in his own bed in his own house. He wanted to be home.

Ody leaned against the bathroom door, ignoring Calypso as she tried to get him to come out again, reminiscing on memories. Memories of his family, his friends. He still couldn’t get over them being dead. They were some of his closest friends, and how would Citimene react? He let out a quiet sob. He wanted to see his family again. He wanted to see his friends again, but that wasn’t a goal he could achieve without losing his own life. He couldn’t even do that while trapped here. The question he’d been asking himself for months passed through his mind again

Gods, how was he going to get out of here? How could anyone find him? What could he do?

He let out another sob, but paused when he heard Calypso’s voice stop. After a pause, she said in that same incessantly cheerful and hopeful tone

“I’ll be right back Ody! Someone’s at the door!” He stayed silent as he heard her walk away. When he heard the door close and lock, he slipped out of the bathroom and walked up to the door, pressing his ear against it and closing his eyes to listen for voices. Calypso spoke first

“Hi! Can I help you? Are you lost?” The voice that replied made his heart leap

“No, I’m very much where I need to be.” Athena. Calypso replied, her tone holding a hint of confusion and trepidation

“Oh? What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean. So, am I calling the cops, or are you gonna tell me where Odysseus is?” Odysseus smiled and called

“I’m here!” Calypso tried to laugh over his voice and asked in false confusion

“Who’s Odysseus?” 

“Move.” He heard Athena walking towards the door and try to open it. He called

“It’s locked.” Athena’s voice grew a little more muffled, as she must have turned away, and she said

“Unlock the door.”

“I don’t have the key.”

“She’s lying.”

“Do I need to call the cops?” Calypso gave a distressed huff and said

“Fine! But you can’t take him if he doesn’t want to go! He loves me!”

“I really don’t, Athena, please get me out of here.” He heard the door unlock and he quickly opened it, racing forward and hugging Athena. Athena laughed and said

“Alright Ody, let’s get you home.” He let go and nodded, quickly walking towards the door to the outside when Calypso grabbed his arm and said

“Ody! Don’t go! Please!” He yanked his arm away and said

“Calypso. You just kidnapped me for three months. I’m leaving.” Athena pushed Calypso and said

“Yeah, he is. He’s going home. And if you try to stop him, I will call the cops on you.” Calypso retreated and Ody dashed out the door, climbing into the passenger seat of Athena’s car quickly, Athena following and locking the car doors before driving off. After just a second of driving, Ody felt tears well up in his eyes and he said

“Thank you” Athena nodded and said

“Of course. I would have come sooner, but I didn’t get to see Penelope’s messages until recently.” Ody nodded, paused, then asked

“How did you find me?” She smirked and said

“It’s very bold of you to assume I don’t have you microchipped.”

“Wait, what?” Athena ignored his question and said

“Anyway, I can’t drive you all the way home, I’m gonna drop you off with some people who can give you a ride, but I’ll meet you back in Ithaca. I’ve gotta go the other way for a little bit, just to drop something off, but I should make it back just after you.” Ody nodded and said

“Thank you again Athena.” She nodded and said

“Penelope is worried sick. I’d have you call her, but I know how long you’ll talk, and my phone is at one percent.” Ody nodded and relaxed into the seat, prompting Athena to say

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” He closed his eyes and slipped into sleep, glad to be gone from that cursed house.

Athena woke him up after a while to drop him off, and then he took off almost immediately with a guy named Alcinous, and on the trip, Ody went over his long, long story. Finally, they reached Ithaca and Alcinous dropped him off at a park near his house before taking off again. 

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[quailsprout]

we were good once