#very late but here you go!!!

[harriertail]

Hii sorry if you already got this ask but you said your asks exploded LMAOO but I’d love to see Flipclaw in your style BUT SPECIFICALLY FLIPCLAW WITH LIONBLAZES BODY SHAPE… I love big dumb men and he’s one of them

what the flip!!

[krysmcscience]

Call this the Whoopsie AU (it's barely an AU)

I mean. Narinder never explicitly SAID the Lamb would stay dead... :3c He probably should have been more specific. >:3c

Part Two:

Well. The Lamb tried, but...sorry, Nari, the crown hates you now. Shouldn't have been so quick to lend it out, I guess. :D

Aaaand Part Three:

'Isn't he just adorable?' -The Lamb, probably, while their followers smile and nod and internally scream at the brand new hellcat they now have to share living space with...

Anyway, nothing says 'Dead To Me' like following a person around to loudly remind them of how dead they are to you. Right? Right. Narinder's got this all figured out. <:]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Council of lovefools.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[harmonictechnicality]

Eddie develops a strange habit after sex. It’s not exactly cute or romantic or nice. Nothing bad either. It’s just… well, Steve isn’t too sure what it is. But every time, it’s the same damn thing.

He collapses onto Steve’s chest and says:

“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”

Usually, Steve is still recovering from the fucking downpour of post-orgasm endorphins. So he doesn’t question it. Hell, he stopped challenging Eddie’s tolerance to geek out months ago. Dude holds fantasy knowledge in his brain better than he holds his liquor.

Which is saying a lot.

Anyways, Steve never has the mental capacity to react or respond. Instead, he runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-soaked hair for awhile. Scratches out little patterns on his scalp because it always makes Eddie go limp. Quiet.

Quiet is a rarity for him. And while Steve is totally weak for Eddie’s chattiness, the quiet can be nice too.

The only reason Steve finally decides to ask about it is because Eddie slips up. Says it before they have sex.

Steve is against the bedroom door, his nails dragging down Eddie’s back. God, he loves this kind of kissing. The lung draining kind. The type that’s sort of filthy from all the heat and grinding. 

Eddie hasn’t marked him up this bad since that time someone at work noticed his neck. Asked if Steve was having an allergic reaction during an office-wide meeting.

And this is going to be even worse. Steve can tell by the sounds and the soft pricks of Eddie’s teeth. He can tell by how long Eddie spends over each spot, like the bruising skin needs more attention than the rest of him. Like licking them over will make the colors last longer.

The damage has been done. Really no point in stopping him when it feels so fucking good. Steve forgets to worry about  how mauled he’s gonna look tomorrow because his head is swimming with Eddie’s lips on his neck. His collarbone. His chest.

That’s when it happens. That’s when Eddie’s strange habit makes an early appearance. 

He kisses over the blistery mess he made, practically growls the words out this time: 

“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”

“Okay, time out.” Steve says. Heaves some air back into his lungs. Pulls Eddie’s face up before he can continue making Steve look like goddamn target practice. 

Eddie blinks a few times. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Gonna have to wear fucking high-collared shirts all week, but whatever.

He’ll bring that up some other time. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“That… thing.” Steve barely can spit it out.  It’s like his throat is physically rejecting the nerdy shit he’s about to say. “You keep calling me… a cyborg or something.” 

“Oh that.” Eddie sighs. Casually shrugs to one side. “It’s your fault actually.”

“How is it my fault? I don’t even know what fucking language you’re speaking.”

Eddie walks over to the bed, chanting Steve’s name over and over. Definitely not in the way Steve prefers him to chant his name. Very un-sexy chanting.

“Remember that day you asked me to grab your car keys?” He asks, patting the bed for Steve to join him. 

No. “Kinda?”

Steve hesitates before walking over. He didn’t necessarily wanna stop their primal makeout session. But it was bound to lead to the bed at some point, so…

Just not like this. Not talking while fully clothed. Blech.

He sits next to Eddie. Hands awkwardly fidgeting in his lap.

“Well, I couldn’t find them.” Eddie admits. “So I ended up going through your desk drawers.”

Of course he did. Perpetual snooper.

“Ended up finding a binder full of medical records.”

Well shit.

Steve’s throat tightens. Swells around the sudden guilt he feels for keeping this from Eddie. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a metal plate in your head?”

“Dunno. Hardly even remember it.” That’s only partly true. Steve doesn’t remember the surgery or much of the recovery process. He was only a kid when it happened.

But he does remember the hospital smells. He remembers the sounds of his IV bag dripping throughout the night. All the sensory indicators are still fresh in his mind.

“Well, that’s why. You're part-machine.” Eddie points to Steve’s head, expression softening. “And every time we fuck around, I think about your bionic skull. And how glad I am that it keeps your brain from leaking out when I bend you over the way you like it best.”

Steve laughs. The jokes help lighten the mood. Not enough to replace it entirely, but enough for it to be easy to swallow again. 

They’re both quiet as they get ready for bed, folding the covers down. And yeah, sometimes quiet can be nice. Just maybe not right now.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

Steve stares hard at the pillows. “Are cyborgs like… cool?”

Eddie pauses for a moment, then hops onto the bed. Starts crawling over to Steve with a smug grin. He lifts up to meet Steve’s lips. Kisses him sweeter than normal. Lighter. Starts nodding his head mid-kiss, keeps nodding as he breaks away.

“Yeah, babe. Cyborgs are so fucking cool.”

[t1oui]

@jegulus-microfic | may 3rd: rush | 727 words

“Do I look alright?” James asks for the hundredth time. His voice sounds funny. “Merlin, do I sound alright? What am I even supposed to say?”

Sirius marches over to him, forcefully grabbing his shoulders and turning him around, away from the mirror.

“You say nice things,” he says sternly. “Because he is my baby brother.”

Sirius has been very supportive, James thinks.

“Right,” he agrees. His voice sounds a bit better now. Sirius nods.

“Don’t worry, Prongs,” Remus says, wandering over from his desk by the windows. “He’s crazy about you already.”

Sirius punches him in the arm. “My baby brother,” he says, an aggressive reminder. Remus holds his hands up in surrender. He turns back to James, waving his wand to cast a tempus. “Best get going,” he says. “You don’t want to be late.”

James checks the time: 10:53. Fuck. He’s supposed to be in the entrance hall by 11.

“Fuck,” he says out loud. Remus snorts. Sirius narrows his eyes.

“You better make this good, Potter,” he almost snarls. Remus places a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Peter rolls his eyes. He’s behind them, so only James can see.

“Bye,” James calls. It’s still warm enough out that he doesn’t need a coat. A little chilly, sure, but James has always run warm. He knocks on one of the wooden columns of Peter’s four-poster. “Bye, Pete.”

“Good luck, Prongs,” he replies, not looking up from his book.

James flies down the stairs and careens into the common room. He’s halfway to the portrait hole when someone grabs him for the second time today. He whirls around to find Lily smiling up at him, one hand on his shoulder and the other holding a pink rose.

“James,” she says softly. “Hey. Calm down.” She holds out the rose, and he takes it hesitantly. “Dora brought me a bouquet the other day,” she explains. “Thought you might want one?”

James stares at her for a moment. Then he nods. “Thank you, Lils.”

She waves him off, stepping away. “Don’t mention it,” she says. She nods to the portrait hole. “I’d get going if I were you.”

He nods, shouting one last thanks over his shoulder as he steps out. Lily shakes her head with a smile, heading back to her room.

James is going so fast that he nearly falls through a trick step. He stumbles, shakes it off, and continues running through the castle. He trips over a group of first years playing exploding snap on a landing. “Sorry!” he calls over his shoulder. The first years watch him with bewildered, confused expressions before going back to their game.

James steps into an alcove once he’s reached the bottom of the stairs, casting a tempus. 10:59. He has one minute. He flattens down his hair and regulates his breathing as much as he can before finally putting on a smile and stepping out. He spots Regulus almost immediately, standing in the entrance hall right where they agreed to meet. He’s got a book in one hand. As James approaches, he looks up from an expensive-looking watch, aristocratic features spreading into a warm smile.

“Right on time,” he says. James stutters to a stop taking him in. Regulus is wearing a dark blue button-up over black slacks and boots. His hair is neatly parted in the middle, pushing his short curls to either side of his face, hanging over his ears. He cocks his head to one side. “Are you alright?”

And it’s those three words, the way Regulus’s mouth moves around them, that inspire James to rush forward, closing the distance between them by swooping Regulus into a hug and pressing a kiss to his temple. Regulus laughs, tossing his arms around James’s shoulders. His laugh is so beautiful.

“Jamie,” he snorts. James presses their foreheads together and stares into Regulus’s eyes. They’re the color of clouds on a winter day. James could get lost in them. Regulus smiles at him. “This is a bit of a strong reaction for a first date, don’t you think?” he asks softly. James thinks. Thinks about the months of wanting, of loving, of needing. Thinks about Sirius gagging as loudly as possible when he kissed Regulus on Platform 9 ¾. James grins.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think.”

Regulus snorts, and James kisses his smile.

[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]

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.”

[slavhew]

DO YA THINGKU

for a twitter trend of redrawing miku as album covers!! i wanted to do one of my favorite single from gorillaz. Cover-accurate ver + closeups:

this was definitely the biggest thing ive drawn this year!! and a good chunk of it on stream. thank you everyone who tuned in!! it was loads more fun to make in company :]

[tabooiart]

mr goatman... goat me a man.... make him the goatest that ive ever seen...

[grmpgm]

[coddda]

Hiiiiiii. Episode 25/26 lawlight analysis rant thingy here. I don't know how to write an intro for this so let's just get to it LOL

I think one of the reasons that the rain/foot scenes stick out so much (the. Sheer insanity of a Foot Massage Scene in an anime revolving around two guys trying to kill each other aside 💀) is the fact that the anime specifically suffers a bit in terms of adapting a few of the "emotional" moments in death note.

And I don't mean "emotionally impactful" exactly. For example I think the adaptations of scenes like Raye and Naomi's deaths were very impactful and the atmospheres of their final scenes were great, but I mean more from a characterization standpoint (if that makes sense). Being more focused on mind and logic games, Death Note as a whole isn't as invested in individual characters' deeper feelings as it is in its action (which isn't necessarily a criticism per say, it's simply part of the nature of a mystery thriller series). But just because they're fewer and farther between doesn't mean there are none at all. In the manga we do get to see, for example, how much Light actually cared for his family and especially Sayu, and how he actually felt more conflicted and suffered lack of sleep/appetite when he first used the Death Note.

The anime specifically as an adaptation is pretty good at adapting the main mind fuckery and action of Death Note, but its lacking in properly adapting scenes like the ones I mentioned above is a criticism I see somewhat often, and it's pretty fair imo. Compared to all the other adaptations, it certainly seems to fall short on an emotional level: the musical has entire songs going in depth about the characters feelings and relationships, the 2015 jdrama is. Insane and has its emotional moments in spades (because it's a TV drama, which are more focused on portraying emotional conflict and the like), even the 2006 movies has its emotional beats and L Change the WorLd is. Well. Oh Man.

Anime Light to a lot of people is like. Light but he's "already evil" (which I have my own thoughts on but I digress). Light but after using the Death Note for like 2 minutes he's already like "fuck yeah time to kill criminals". Basically the anime doesn't take as much time to delve into his less cynical sides or really delve into his already vague and harder to decipher feelings in general, he is noticeably colder from the get-go here, etc.

But that's part of why I think episode 25 manages to stand out so much tonally (apart from it being, y'know, the episode L literally Dies). I love the episode so much and could probably rant for hours about how much I love the artistic choices made in it but what I'm trying to get at here is that it's one of the very few moments where the show tries to go deeper into specific character's emotions, and one of the very few moments where the show Attempts (emphasis on "attempts" because, well, you'll see in a bit) to get more in-depth into Light's feelings apart from his cynicism/apathy/justice. ness.

L in these two scenes in episode 25 is, well, pretty damn open about how he feels. It's usually interpreted as him knowing that he's going to die, and you can see it. He visibly looks/sounds lost, somber, etc. He never really had much to hide around Light to begin with (since he doesn't really care about hiding himself the same way Light does) but especially not now and it Shows, and I personally thought it was pretty cool to delve into his thoughts/show how he feels this way. The somberness can be felt throughout the entire scene, even people who don't already know the plot of Death Note from the manga could probably tell that he's about to die.

In the manga, once L starts suspecting Misa again and Rem realizes what Light is trying to do, it goes straight to Watari and L's deaths, but the anime instead gives a distinct and unexpected pause in the middle of this where L contemplates his own death. It's fucking great, and the shift from straight action to slower emotional weight makes these scenes stand out a lot, since, like I said, the show usually focuses more on the former. But it's kind of ironic, too.

Not only does the anime open up L's feelings more in these scenes, but it also tries to dig deeper into Light's feelings as well through L. And it's really funny honestly because while, yes, these are the more "emotionally open" scenes of the anime Light still manages to be Incredibly avoidant and contribute almost nothing to the entire ordeal.

L is visibly upset -> "Yeah Ryuzaki, you're not making any sense at all" (Not addressing the obvious conflict from L)

"Tell me, Light. From the moment you were born, has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" -> "[The most stale, over-explained, avoidant answer to a "yes/no" question that you could ever hear + blatant attempts to reframe the question]"

(L's half-smile here kills me) "I had a feeling you'd say something like that" -> [Nothing]

"I'm sorry" -> [Nothing]

"It'll be lonely won't it? You and I will be parting ways soon" -> [Nothing]

^ From this point Light continues to say literally Nothing for the rest of the scene. I'm not even joking, from then on the rest of Light's voicelines are reduced to nothing but vague noises of confusion.

Everytime L calls Light out as a person ("Has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" / "I had a feeling you'd say something like that." / "Won't it be lonely?") he doesn't actually acknowledge anything. Out of those three lines, he only answers verbally to if he's ever told the truth, and even then it's the most blatantly people-pleasing answer ever, as it usually is with Light. And I don't think it's because Light just. Doesn't care about any of what L's saying at all, or that he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about (questioning Light's authenticity as a person, saying it would be lonely when they part), instead he's choosing not to acknowledge any of what this means about himself or him and L at all. He's like a fucking wall.

And like, for the truth question in particular, the show makes sure that you know it's not something that Light just. Doesn't care enough about to answer. The hard cuts to silence are a very rare but extremely effective way that the show conveys an extremely important moment (see: Light regaining his memories, Matsuda noticing Light opening the warehouse door before he escapes (not as much of a "direct" cut to silence but still)), and cuts to multiple angles/framings/zooms of the exact same shot are also used for the same purpose (see: Light hugging Misa when she was crying, Matsuda aiming his gun to shoot Light, Light regaining his memories Again). Just like the scene where Light gets his memories back, the moment L's question finishes the show utilizes both. That question cut Deep. There's is a solid Almost 5 seconds of silence before the sound of the rain gradually starts fading back in, and honestly that should be telling enough as is (but of course Light doesn't actually admit that. Or anything at all really, so). Oh also another fun detail! We do not see Light's face At All (except for the shot where you can see his mouth moving but not his eyes), for the Entire time that he's going on his spiel to L. We Will Be Revisiting This Later, by the way. This is not, in fact, the first time you're going to see this detail from Light.

The only sort of reciprocation that we see from Light during Any of these two scenes is when Light dries L's hair while L dries his feet. Biblical meanings/references aside it's interesting because it's the only time he directly does anything "for" L in these scenes, but even then he doesn't try to pass it off as anything meaningful really the same way L does ("You're still soaked", a purely neutral and factual statement. It doesn't Add Anything compared to L's. Sin atonement loneliness grieving stuff. While Light is showing his own reciprocation to this more personal moment he also tries to keep it impersonal enough that it doesn't actually have to mean anything deep). And when L says "I'm sorry" after he once again gets no response from Light. It's also after this that L gets that pained look on his face, like he knows that at this point he's not actually going to get anything meaningful from Light (again, very significant and rare from L in the show. We've seen him in distress (see: when Ukita died, hell, when Watari dies), but even then he mostly manages to keep his usually neutral expression), we never see him "look sad" like he does here):

I just think it's interesting that this is one of the few scenes in this particular adaptation of Death Note where they try to open up the character's thoughts/feeling (especially considering the fact that they. lowkey blunder in adaptations of original scenes from the manga), and L himself is being rather open (not that he ever really tries to hide what he thinks nearly as much as Light), and yet all Light contributes to it in return is like. Actually nothing. Bro fumbled it. There is no resolution to any of this, to any of what L asks at all, to any of the many opportunities for a meaningful conversation, and the only thing even relatively close to an answer that you can get from Light is what you can infer from how he acts in the episode after L dies, where he's just going through the motions, but hardly acting as if he's actually living at all.

(Honestly I think the transition from this scene with the taskforce to the subsequent scene with Misa says enough on its own. Light's expressions and tone says everything:)

(Oh sidenote but. This shit again:

"Light, this is our first date in forever. can't you enjoy yourself a little more?" ('Why don't you seem happy? We can finally be together since L is dead') -> No response, Light instead changing the topic to him wanting to move in with Misa without changing his mannerisms at all

Also there's that one detail again. You pretty much don't see Light's expression when he speaks here at all, except for one shot of his eyes, which is quite literally the exact same shot they used when he "saw" L, just altered for the new setting. You have No idea what he looks like when he's responding to Misa, although it's probably fair to assume that it's the same empty stare he has for the whole Two Shots where you can clearly see his whole expression in the entire scene.

Something something Light Yagami bad at feelings I think you get the point though)

I guess Light's Kind of showing what he's feeling now? He'll admit to himself that it's boring without L, but no more than that. Light never actually admits to anything "significant", and L's dead already anyway, so what would that even do?

And then we get, uh. Basically nothing from Light. For the next 5 Years. Except that he joined the NPA, so, uh, yay? Good job, Light you totally nailed it! Thank you for allowing us as an audience to delve deeper into your inner thoughts and feelings as a character so we can find out more about you as a person! Very helpful! Thank you for not sabotaging one of your few dedicated opportunities to look into yourself as a person and reflect on your relationships with others and being 100% honest with yourself! We stay winning guys.

Anyway, this got way too long for a scene that's over a decade old, and I've probably just said everything that everyone else has already said in this fandom before. But unfortunately this has been living in my head for way too long and I must scream. I just think this episode's neat is all :)

tl;dr Part of the reason why the rain/foot scene (tbh episode 25 in General) stands out so much is because the Death Note anime specifically was a bit robbed in terms of its more emotional character moments compared to the other medias, which makes more somber/introspective scenes like the ones in episode 25 stand out a Lot in comparison. But it's also incredibly ironic because it's one of the few moments where the show (or specifically L) tries to look deeper into Light's character, but because he is so avoidant for the entire duration of these two scenes he adds basically nothing at all. It's almost funny. Mostly sad. It's also very gay. Aand post

Okay actually nevermind one more thing I talked about how the jdrama is supposed to be more emotionally in-depth because it is a TV Drama and just for the record, same thing happens there! I could probably do an entire analysis of the Blue Scene in this context like I did with episode 25 but I'd literally be here forever, so uh, just take this iconic line as my main example:

Same Thing. L's statement "I wish we could have met some other way" is personal. It's his own wish, his own regret that he is expressing to Light. While Light's reply obviously has that same regret implied it's also phrased in a specifically impersonal way. It's closed off. "This is the only way we could have met" it closes off the topic and simply renders L's wish as ultimately futile. Light does not say that he Also wishes he could have met L a different way even if it was likely impossible, instead it's a cold statement of cynical fact.

Idk just. Something something L being able and Willing to be more openly sentimental/emotionally open towards Light/about Light vs. Light's inability to be honest with anyone including himself and his own nature preventing any form of meaningful reciprocation. Something something self-sabotage, y'know the drill. God don't even get me Started on how sincere L's tone is when he says "It'll be lonely won't it?"(at least in the eng dub) in the anime I could talk about his tone in that scene for ages. Also yes all of this relates to L Change the WorLd too by the way. Don't ask how it just does okay.

I do think that scenes like these (rain/foot scene, The Blue Scene. Uh. L Change the WorLd The Novel Adaptation) show, at least in those adaptations, that L does genuinely care for Light, and show that he values him as a friend not just in the mindgame-equal sense but also just like, a more sincere sense you know. Idk if that made any sense and that's a whole other topic for another day but you guys just have to believe me on this one alright please please believe me buries head in hands. Okay post over finally thanks for coming to my tedtalk hope you enjoyed my very-unnecessarily long analysis of the week

[ganondoodle]

its still rough but as far as im gonna get for now, cant decide on the tentacle colors still nkfdnvkdfn

possible name for lad is Pan or Paktolos (just bc .. reference to midas legend even if this midas got nothing to do with it; oh yeah, a bonus midas sketch .. he needs a proper redesign too)

tentacle lad may look mean here (i genuinely dont know why i drew him like that) but hes a big sappy softie, even carries a picture of midas in a locket around- next to the demon teeth hes collected he doesnt leave the island much anymore and mostly manages everything on it, his people call him by royal titles sometimes bc hes been a very competent leadership figure but he doesnt put value in any titles-

he rescued midas from the demon hunters that kidnapped him years ago to bring one of the biggest and most influencial empires to collapse after his older sister, who was the empress, was unexpectedly dying- midas being the next in line the empire doesnt really exist anymore at this point, midas now leading missions around the island instead, or going around keeping up to date with politics and tensions since his husband (tentacle lad) and his people are of a kind that is largely being kept a secret and would be a target for demon hunters as well, despite them not being demons (they look monstrous but are more based on animals, are native to earth, cannot change form, age only somewhat slower than humans and have no control over any elemental magic more than a very skilled human can have- which is basically not even noticable and usually gets passed off as 'talent' in the way a skilled sailor can feel the approaching weather in the wind)

[thosewildcharms]

Any personal headcanons on Rick and Michonne as a couple? Like their favorite things about the other, what they argue about, love languages ect. lol they’ve set up camp in my brain and I just want more of them 🙇🏻‍♀��

this is so funny because i've been thinking about their love languages ever since danai did that interview with YNB after 1x04! yvette said rick's is words of affirmation and michonne's is acts of services, and I definitely agree but I also think they display pretty much all of them, and quite a bit? rick is obviously into giving gifts and loves quality time (family fun day, begging her to spend just a few more days on the road in 7x12) and to say they both love physical touch is an understatement. this gorgeous gifset highlights it all beautifully.

anyway, some headcanons~

I really don't think they argue about much? they are very in sync most of the time. historically their big arguments are about how to handle major threats (negan, the crm, rick's PTSD) and since nothing bad is ever happening to them ever again because I said so there's no need to fight about those things anymore

michonne's favorite things about rick are how affectionate he is with his family, his strength, his accent, and his hair

rick's favorite thing about michonne is everything

i actually think they talk about books a lot. they're both nerdy as hell in different ways and love that about each other

michonne likes to cook and is very experimental while rick likes to bake (mostly secret family pie recipes) and they love feeding each other and their kids

michonne absentmindedly sings and does little dances when she's doing things around the house and rick stops whatever he's doing to lean against the wall and watch her and smile

that scene we saw in 9x01 where they cuddle up in bed and unpack their day was a ritual they started way back at the prison, even though back then it was obviously platonic (we do actually see them talking when everyone else is asleep several times throughout twd). they would linger and chat before heading to their respective cells at night. in the six years michonne spent without rick, she continued the tradition herself, talking to him out loud alone in their bedroom

rick DEFINITELY teases michonne about being oblivious to his feelings for her before The Couch

michonne hits back by teasing him about Whatever the Fuck He Was Doing With Jessie 💀

you didn't ask for grimes family headcanons but:

after they got home, michonne has a moment like that scene at the end of kill bill vol 2 and has a near silent hysterical laugh-cry of relief by herself in the bathroom before calmly walking back out to join her family. only rick notices

rick on the other hand is afraid to let any of them out of his sight. he spends the first six months he's back home being a total insomniac watching the three of them sleep because he's afraid if he closes his eyes he'll wake up alone back at the CRM

antony azor who plays rj is apparently very shy and reserved but opened up unexpectedly with andrew lincoln and so obviously this is also exactly what happened with rick and rj. father and son bonded INSTANTLY

his first night back, judith asks rick to finish reading the wizard of oz to her because he never got a chance to. it takes a good five minutes for him to compose himself but she does finally get the full story from her dad

rick and michonne do have an actual wedding ceremony, but it's just for them, judith and rj.

[holmsister]

Unpopular almost blasphemous labru opinion time: kabru would so be into getting flavour profiled actually hed be like. Oh citrus notes interesting. And then he'd have a small crisis about not being able to do the same for Laios BUT he can tell him how quickly he would die if he stabbed him in whatever part he's kissing and that's just as sexy

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 4: season 7 or taken over

Xisuma slowly blinks at the console logs for the server again. He's very tired; he's been collecting blackstone again, and it's very tiring, collecting blackstone. He's been building a lot of pretty houses, and stocking a lot of shops, and he hasn't had time to look at the console much recently. He probably shouldn't be now, because he's tired, and tired people make mistakes.

He makes a lot of mistakes; he's silly like that. A big derp. It's why he has to be careful, since he's been tired so much lately. He definitely shouldn't have the console open.

It's just, earlier Impulse had a question, since his moss farm kept lagging, and Xisuma thought it would be easy enough to try to find the root cause of. And he did find the root cause of it--Impulse's farm is too fast and his storage simply doesn't keep up with the amount of moss--but there's... some other things...

He blinks again at the dates on the server files. The last edited dates. Slowly, he clicks again on his own player data, and tries to make sense of what he's reading. Files like this, they aren't really meant to be that human-readable. It's--well, it is mostly json, so it's mostly human-readable, actually, but a lot of it is still encrypted, for player safety, which would. Maybe explain what he's looking at? He thinks? He's--well, he does have root access, is the thing, because he's the admin, but he still shouldn't be able to look at any player willy-nilly.

He's a little too much of a derp to be trusted with that. He probably shouldn't even be looking at his data! It's just. That last edited date. Xisuma doesn't edit his own player data. That way lies madness. He's, uh, pretty sure he knows some people who went a little mad doing that. So the fact of the matter is--well, it's not the only file that's been edited recently, he tells himself. Just because it's a lot of memory files that seem to have been edited, as well as access permissions--that's... normal enough for a new season, right?

He's...

He doesn't notice his other self walk up behind him.

"Oh, hey Xisuma. You finished gathering materials for our next build, then?" Evil Xisuma says. All of Xisuma's hairs stand on end.

"I mean, I've gathered enough to get started," Xisuma says.

"Pity. I was really hoping you'd manage to get everything. I thought maybe we'd finish today, but I guess we can't now."

"I--you're right. I'm really sorry."

"No, no, don't worry, don't worry, my friend," Evil Xisuma says. "We probably couldn't have finished today anyway, even if you said you'd try for it."

Xisuma's heart is in his throat. "Sorry, my head's just been. You know how I am. Silly me, forgetting things."

Evil Xisuma shakes his head. "It's awfully lucky I came back this season. Think of all the important things you'd be forgetting without reminders!"

Xisuma looks down and away.

"Gosh, and now you're... playing around in the admin console?"

"Oh!" Xisuma says. "It's, er, nothing really big..."

"Can I see it?"

He barely resists the urge to close out of his player data and hide that's what he'd been looking at. He doesn't know why he wants to hide it. It's not like--well, if Evil Xisuma got mad about it, it would be... right, wouldn't it? Because, well, Xisuma knows full well he shouldn't be looking at or editing his own player data. Editing your own data is the way to madness, and Xisuma, well, he's been so tired lately. He could easily accidentally hit a button. He could easily accidentally hit delete. He has root access, after all.

His heart is in his throat again. He shuffles his feet. "Sure," he says, finally. "I, er, I promise, I wasn't doing anything. I just noticed the last edited date on, uh, files that aren't automatically created by the system? And I thought, gosh, that's weird. I'd only been in there to check on Impulse, really, after he'd had some lag issues. I was just finishing up. It's nothing--the date's weird, though, right? That's all I was noticing."

He watches Evil Xisuma's fingers scroll through all of Xisuma's data. It's not quite fast enough that Xisuma isn't sure he's reading it, and suddenly, Xisuma feels very small.

Finally, Evil Xisuma hands Xisuma's tablet with the admin console open back to him. Xisuma looks down, and Evil Xisuma has closed out of the player data again.

"You just forgot the last maintenance date," Evil Xisuma says.

"Really?" Xisuma says.

"Oh, yeah, for sure. You're so tired lately. You silly derp. You've just been forgetting things easily. You should really get more rest!"

"Oh, but then we won't finish our projects," Xisuma says.

"I guess we wouldn't," Evil Xisuma says back.

"It's just--it's. Most of the time, access permission for player memories isn't edited during maintenance, and I just--I don't remember putting your name down?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Xisuma tries to think.

"I don't know," he says finally, small, unable to meaningfully articulate anything about what's wrong with it. "I guess it only makes sense, if I'm forgetting things so easily."

"Exactly! Gosh, we make a good team," Evil Xisuma says, and he smiles at Xisuma. Xisuma crookedly smiles back.

"Yeah, we do," Xisuma agrees.

"Don't pull that out again unless I say so, okay?"

"Okay," Xisuma agrees automatically, and then he knows he will not. It makes sense. If he was upsetting himself over nothing like this, why, imagine what he'd do if he could open it whenever? He'd just constantly be upsetting himself!

"Now, my friend, let's return to building the Evil Empire."

"Let's!" agrees Xisuma, and just like that, the entire encounter slips from his mind.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

okay I refuse to indulge a second longer in this dumbass project, but. do you see the vision.

if gerudo town is to be home of the unpractical heel, why should he be spared.

be a king ganon. lead through example.

[d8tl55c]

oh boy !! ! ! ! !!! ! thANK y0u all for the kind words on my last art posts. you all get it and i was/still am so happy about it

as promised, here's some close-ups of the comic for image quality's sake, and other screenshots i rescued from the community whiteboard (and something else)

first up another sketch of mystery gender-ambiguous being. (please send me more name ideas for them if you got one- i like to hear em! (reminder it's the side character that appeared for <10 seconds in AvM Ep. 30))

a few fav scenes

emotional support cwab

they weren't meant for this purpose exactly, but i do have countless "fluffy sticks" loose in my notes and homework sheets from the school years.

papery critter.

even when i wasn't confident in fur or feathers, they helped me practice posing and create some satisfying gradients/flowing poses. (im a sucker for good tail poses) (oh yay! i found a good pic...)

and finally, little sneak peak for you for reading so far ;3

i realized that whiteboardfox is pretty great for my working needs. simple and to the point and all. feels nice with the mouse and the tablet.

so i started hashing out a big project idea just to see if it holds up and

[

several hours later ...

]

oh

oh man

it's a little bigger than i expected

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