#comments and critiques are welcome

[cadaverousdecay]

I found one of those things you call a mermaid on the pier the other night. All tied up and thrashing its poor body around like a fish caught in a net.

That image repulsed me. You know I've never been one for fishing. Even catch and release puts me off. I don't like to watch the poor thing slowly suffocating as it waits to be thrown back in, its gills heaving and sputtering for water.

That creature tied up on the pier, the gash of gills on its neck was heaving and sputtering just in that way, dark ocean water flowing out with every failed breath, it really made me sick.

I pulled out my pocket dagger and its attention was on me. Its eyes bulged wide and I wondered if, like a fish, it couldn't blink. The sight of my dagger set it off into another thrashing fit and I tried to calm it down. Poor thing didn't seem to understand a word. It kept opening and closing its faded lips, but nothing came out. Must've spoke some kinda fish language.

I held it firmly in place and slowly brought the dagger to the knots binding its wrists. It calmed down after seeing that I wasn't here to cut its flesh. Or maybe it had just lost all energy from being out of the water too long. Either way, it stayed still as I cut the ropes around its legs.

When it was freed, it just lay there on the pier. So still it might've been dead, other than the weak flapping of the gill at its throat. I needed to get it into the water, and fast.

I lifted it up, one arm under its neck, the other under its knees. Its skin was slightly warm, unlike any fish I'd ever briefly held. But the same clamminess. Warmer than its skin was the water spurting from its gills.

I stepped closer to the edge of the pier and the thrashing returned. It must've known it was going back home, and was getting excited. I took a step back to gather momentum, and pushed forward with all my might, throwing the creature in kicking and flailing.

It hit the water with a splash, and stayed at the surface for a moment. Almost like it was treading water. Must've wanted to say thanks. After a few seconds it slowly sunk down. Back to its home.

I imagined the slit in its neck filling up with ocean water and I could finally breathe easy again. I couldn't get that sick taste out of my mouth for awhile, though. Same sick taste of my first fishing trip.

"Who cut its neck?" I remember asking my mama as the fish struggled in my hand, tail thrashing, scales cold. She told me those were its gills, that's how it breathed. Through the slits in its throat.

"So it's breathing through its neck?"

"No, sweetie. Not now."

I took one last look over the pier into the dark water below, getting darker. That fish is breathing now. It's gotta be.

[loader-bot]

happy new year earth gamers!! ⭐🌈

watch it with those fireworks, okay? careful you don't blow yourselves up! (that's torgue's job)

[bayetea]

Thoughts on Luke? just curious, i love all your pjo stuff and i saw that you like thaluke so 👀

(resisting the urge to say "no one gets him like I do") to be completely honest barring that one thing luke is probably the best written original character in the entire percy jackson franchise

[fyrets]

Personal Problems on PawBorough's Patreon

So I guess I'm doing this. Kicking this off with some disclaimers.

I don't have a problem with the team putting together a Patreon. Developers need money to live. Get that bag.

I admittedly don't have much experience with Patreon either as a creator or a patron. I might be operating under misconceptions or make incorrect assumptions of what is and isn't effective when running a Patreon. A lot of this is coming from a very subjective perspective of what I think things are worth. To me.

I sincerely welcome any and all commentary or criticism on this post. It's mostly rambling, so I'll gladly try to clarify some points if asked about it. On that note, this isn't like, a full on debate. Let's be chill.

Let's get this started.

Now why am I rambling here? In short, I feel like the Patreon isn't set up to be as accessible or fair to the community as it could be. I am very aware that ultimately not everyone will be able to support the game in this way. Life is hard, and people can't always get what they want. But I think things could still be improved to make more people happy, and potentially more money for the team.

Tiers aren't the best they could be

As of writing, there are four tiers.

$1 tip jar with no benefits. This was added after it was suggested in the Discord.

$5 "Kit" - General support, behind-the-scenes content, work-in-progress updates (digital), Patreon Discord channel, and Discord access.

$10 "Domestic" - All previous benefits and a "domestic supporter" personal credit on the credits page of the game at launch.

$20 "Mystic" - All previous benefits, a "mystic supporter" personal credit on the credits page of the game at launch, and access to exclusive community polls.

As I said in my disclaimer, my opinions are extremely subjective to what I think things are worth, but something about the pricing scheme is incredibly unbalanced to me. Why does it go 5, 10, 20 instead of 5, 10, 15? I see that it's doubling from the last tier, but why? Especially when the added benefits are.. pretty minimal? A credit on the site for an added $5 from the lowest tier, but it's $15 for a different credit title and polls. People can ultimately spend their money however they want, but this seems like a bad deal.

Not only that, but I feel like it's a HUGE missed opportunity to not have a $3 tier (we could call it "Fauna" or something) with minimal benefits. If $5 is for everything, $3 could just be the Discord benefit. (Though if you ask me, I've more often than not seen $1 tiers be used for a Discord role so 🤷). If just Discord isn't a good enough deal, then they could do low resolution images of the previews or something. I think it's also fair enough to say a hypothetical $3 tier wouldn't get a credit, but on that note...

Why no Kit credit?

It was stated in the recent Kickstarter post that all backers will have a credit on the site. This is a good thing, but seeing as the lowest tier for the Kickstarter was $5, it feels unfair to me that the Kit doesn't seem to get a credit. Especially considering the fact that the Kickstarter was a one time payment.

It'll only take another month for a Kit supporter to spend more than the lowest KS tier and not receive a credit. There's already an upcharge of a different credit title when going from Domestic to Mystic, so why leave Kit out of it completely? I just don't get it.

Concerns on Discord

If the credit situation is unfair to Patrons, then I'll be honest, I think doing Discord integration is unfair to Kickstarter backers. I am aware that Patreon has tools for Discord integration that Kickstarter (last I checked) doesn't, but like, if we've already gone this far without exclusive roles or channels for people who have financially supported the project, why start now? On top of that, I think having a Patreon exclusive channel in the main server is a bad idea for a number of reasons.

First, it will create a divide in the community based on money. There are already locked channels based on Borough affiliation, but that is an extension of the game and not connected to money. I don't think Discord integration will create a literal class divide among the players, I have a lot more faith in the community than that, but again, if this wasn't done for the Kickstarter, why start now?

Second, I think there's a bit too much risk when it comes to keeping exclusive content exclusive. I think almost everyone has sent a message to the wrong channel at least once in their life. It ultimately won't be a big deal if someone accidentally makes mention of something in the public channels, but that's still something to moderate for, y'know?

Third, the Discord has already been stated to be temporary, where it'll be phased out sometime after launch. Why include paid benefits for something that isn't going to last? The next alternative to this is to integrate Patreon into the site forums somehow, but Blue already said that wasn't gonna happen.

In conclusion

Idk I think it could be better. I'd love to cough up $3 a month for blurry images. $5 for crisp ones is too much for me right now. That is all.

[lilacs-in-space]

[praise-suns-and-chill]

Okay I needed to write SOMETHING, and that scene how we get Ogerpon desperately needed a rewrite anyways.

End result is the same, but I feel like... there should be more options than just fighting things out anyways.

Just a small one shot, but maybe I will rewrite more scenes later!

"Kieran, you know it isn't up to you."

Jules glared at Carmine. As if she had any room to talk, considering she usually acted like everything was up to her.

"Exactly. It's up to me too, and to my Team, and if they would get along with Ogerpon as well to begin with."

Now both siblings looked at her, surprised. Jules crossed her arms in defense.

"Yes, my teams opinion matter to me too. We will all spend time together, that means we all should get along! I wouldn't want any infighting, just watching anyone in my team be stressed all the time because they need to be around someone who doesn't treat them properly." She definitely only meant her team with that. Of course.

While Carmine just looked utterly confused, Kieran stared at the ground, his hand twitching as usual when he seemed to think.

"That's... I never thought about that..."

Jules gaze was gentle when her eyes wandered over to him, and she nodded.

"That's alright. Most people don't really seem to think of that. But... they're my team, right? And that means that we all work together, not just that I boss them around without thinking about how they feel." She hoped he would get the small hint.

She looked down at Ogerpon next, gently patting her head.

"If her opinion matters for who gets to train her, then so does the opinion of the rest of my team."

She wasn't fully sure if Ogerpon could understand her, but the little ogre happily nodded along.

"Maybe... instead of fighting over it, we should let our teams decide, then."

Carmina looked between Jules and her brother incredulously.

"Are you serious? THAT'S how you will decide that?"

"Why not?" Jules shrugged.

"...I think that's fair." Kieran also nodded now, his eyes still flicking over to the green ogre, still unsure despite his words.

"On three?" Jules held up the balls her Team was in, and watched her new friend do the same.

"One..."

"Two."

"Three!" And both released their Teams all at once.

Ogerpon jumped slightly back in surprise, but her hesitation didn't last long before curiosity overtook her, just like both of the Teams.

Quaquaval just looked around in nothing but confusion for a moment, before quickly noticing all the eyes on it and starting to fix its "hair", of course, needing to make a good impression.

Her Spiritomb taking one look, shivering and promptly retreating back into its keystone. Alright, she had never been the social type anyway, that was to be expected.

Growlithe on the other hand enthusiastically jumped around, sniffing and playfully barking at all the new arrivals. While a newbie to the team, looks like he would be happy to just befriend anyone.

Kierans team started looking around just as confused for a moment, aside from his Dipplin, who was already confidently crawling over to the strangers.

Yanmega was next to follow, and soon they all started to mingle around each other, Ogerpon a bit overwhelmed, but brightly smiling in the middle of it all.

And so, their trainers simply stood by for a while, watching their teams peacefully play with each other. Kierans nervous fiddling had stopped by now, even a small smile now showed on his face.

All the while, Jules kept her eyes on him from the side, now her being the one to nervously fiddle.

Carmine meanwhile was actually being quiet for once, apparently distracted enough by the cute sight in front of her. Distracted enough that Jules scooted closer to Kieran, sitting down next to him.

He quickly looked up.

"Should we stop them now?" The anxious look was already back, and his hands gripped onto his sweater.

Jules quickly shook her head.

"No! No, we should... Still give them some time..." Her voice was hushed, not wanting Carmine to overhear and interrupt. She now mirrored the boy, her fingers nervously tipping against her shirt.

"I... wanted to say sorry."

She frowned at the ground, not quite being able to look up, as Kieran looked at her confused.

"Huh? Why?"

"Because I didn't tell you right away. I wanted to, but Carmine just stopped me, and then she told me that you would probably run into the mountains, and I was worried you would actually do that too then, and I didn't want you to get hurt so I didn't tell you and the next day I just felt so bad about it and then I told you because I thought at least it was day and I could maybe come along but I had still kept quiet the first day and I wanted to say sorry there too but-"

Her words stumbled over themselves and she crossed her arms, holding onto herself as her voice got more and more quiet, as she struggled to get the words out. Despite her attempts to stay subtle, she wasn't as successful as she had hoped.

Now her Spiritomb burst out of its keystone, quickly turning and hopping over to her trainer. Of course, the ghost type would notice negative feelings first. Growlithe was next to notice, running quickly back on his stubby little legs, and soon Ogerpon and the rest of both teams followed, disrupted by the troubled Teen who was now holding onto the stone her Spiritomb had disappeared back into.

Meanwhile Kieran just stared at her, dumbfounded, as if he hadn't expected any of this.

"I..." He took a moment, not knowing what to say, and before he could continue the two were interrupted.

"What did you do, Kieran!?" Carmine looked at him shaking, but before he could respond Jules jumped up again, as if all her energy had just flooded back immediately.

"He didn't do anything, stop accusing him while knowing nothing!" The glare from her golden eyes matched Carmines, Growlithe did his name justice as he growled in defense of his trainer now, while Quaquaval looked just about ready to kick Carmine off the cliff.

"Jules, don't, I'll deal with it!" The boy held up his hands, trying to pacify the two before an argument could break out, and after a tense pause, Jules sighed and slumped back down as Ogerpon walked up next to her. The cute ogre looking as worried as could be between all three, the sight seemingly melting away even Carmines anger.

"Fine. If you say so!" Still, she wouldn't stop taking control now, looking over this assembly before settling on Ogerpon.

"So? Did you decide by now?"

Ah.

Right.

Jules seemed to slump even further, while Kierans ticks immediately flared up again. There still was a decision to be made, after all.

The two exchanged quick glances before looking away and watching the two, Carmine took over, as usual.

"So!" She clapped her hands and looked down at Ogerpon, pointing to each of the two teams after another.

"Which one do you want to join?"

"Pon?"

The green ogre followed Carmines pointers, confused for just a moment before tilting her head, thinking for a short moment.

Before she eventually wandered over to Jules, waving her hooded arms in the air, the rest of her team swarming around their new friend, as her new trainer gave her a sad smile.

If Ogerpon wanted to stay with her, she would never say no. After all the rejection, she deserved a loving, caring trainer.

But...

She glanced to Kieran, who was just hiding his expression behind his hair. Not showing what he was thinking, not saying a word.

But he, after all the rejection, deserved a loving, caring friend.

[generalluxun]

Pondering a new fic Miraculous Ladybug post S5

Ground Rules:

1)This isn't salt, despite including some hard takes on serious issues. It's not meant to be a diatribe, and hopes to humanize all characters.

2)Ships listed doesn't guarantee outcomes. I'm not even sure if one ship will be romantic or not, but it'll be emotional, so I think it counts.

Ships: Adrienette, and Goldwalker.

Premise: Adrien finds out via Kagami's bluntness about the secrets Ladybug-who-is-Marinette(thanks Kagami) has been keeping from him, and about how many people besides him know. His Senti-personhood, his father, everything. Adrien has an emotional crisis and flees Paris.

Where does he go? He needs someone to talk to, to sort things out in his own mind. Vitally it needs to be someone who isn't Marinette's friend right now. Adrien has only one person in his life who qualifies. He seeks out his first friend. His lost friend. Someone who he had cut out of his life. Someone who would never try to sugarcoat things, who is in no way beholden to his girlfriend(?).

And very importantly, someone who by all accounts is a bad person. Because as much as Adrien needs to talk things out, he also needs a sign. He needs to prove someone who has hurt you, who has done horrible things, can still be good. He wants and needs this with every fiber of his being. He can't return to Paris and face Marinette again until he can believe.

He can't meet her as himself, there's too much baggage there, he'd never get in the door. He can't meet her as Cat Noir. That persona too is full of history and connections. And so, it's Cat Walker who alights on a balcony in New York, and peers in at a girl alone in her suite.

[somewhere-south-of-neutral]

Clarke's Third Law

A poem by Personification

Any Sufficiently Advanced Technologyis indistinguishable from Magic. -Arthur C. Clarke

I go to a school for wizards. Technically, we specialize in artifice, but artifice and wizardry go hand in hand.

Some of my friends are learning to write the spells that animate the magical constructs that display the moving pictures that run our society.

Some of my friends are alchemists. They don’t try to turn lead into gold. (We know how to do that and it isn’t really profitable.) They turn plants and rocks and animals into potions, which can be sold for green, which, as anyone who has chosen to read Frost or been forced to read Outsiders knows, is gold.

Some of my friends specialize in the flying carriages used to strike out into the Aether and leave footprints on the stars.

Some of them work on fabricating these fiery steeds, while others focus on calibrating the spellcraft required to point them at the correct sphere of heaven

Some of my friends study magical theory. Though they themselves cannot cast spells,  these sages delve into the underlying workings of the universe so that others can.

I, on the other hand, am majoring in Literature, Media, and Communication (no s). I’m learnin’ to talk real good. Sometimes, I look to the wizards and wish I’d learned to craft the universe as they do. Then, I remember that nothing can reshape reality quite like a well placed word or song  or book or poem.

Without us, nobody would know about their great feats of spellcraft. Without us, nobody would stand against the dark tyrants in their ivory towers. Without us, nobody would imagine the futures that don’t exist yet in order to create them.

History is written by the victors? History is written by the writers!

---------------

Please comment and critique.

This has been released elsewhere under my real name, so if you see it credited to someone else, that's probably actually me.

[rafeysbambii]

hypnosis : bambi!reader who caught s2!rafes eye the moment he met her planting roses in the middle of summer.

warnings : cursing

word count : 456

authors note : hi angels! this is my first little drabble, and i really hope you’ll enjoy! if you have any requests for new characters, drabble, fics, etc. my requests are pretty much always open! i’m willing to write about most things so go for it! i’d also like to thank @cameronsprincess for reading this through, you’re amazing! enjoy <3333

“the fuck are you doin’?” rafe had wandered to far from home after a particular bad fight with his father, and in his red hot angry rage - he found himself in a small meadow somewhere behind tanneyhills huge forest. “hm?” the brown haired girl had turned to the voice, her hands muddy and earthy from planting the beautiful flower she adored so much.

“i said what the fuck are you doing?” the second time around he’s growing more annoyed that the stupidly cute and deer like girl ignored his question the first time. “oh! m’ planting some roses! they’re beautiful aren’t they?” she chirps, her pink and glossy lips curving into a huge smile.

rafe scoffs, crossing his stupidly large arms over his perfectly fitted polo - “why the fuck are you planting flowers in the middle of fuckin’ summer.” his comment makes the girl frown, why so mean? “you don’t… you don’t like my roses?” her once bright smile, and peppy eyes slowly melt into a soft, adorable pout.

“hey - hey stop that, i never fuckin said i didn’t —“ before he can even explain himself the tears have already started to flow down the girl’s beautiful rosy red cheeks - making rafe feel… bad?

no, that can’t be it. rafe cameron doesn’t feel bad, that’s for… that’s for pussies, well that’s what ward tells him.

“a’right stop cryin’ s’ not that serious.” he leans down and grabs the small girl by her shoulders, pulling her in for an awkward yet warm hug, one that he isn’t used to. “you’re fine kid.”

she sniffles once, then twice - then a few times more before he’s grown tired of the hug, pushing her body back gently to stand back up on his expensive shoes. “what’s your name.”

“it’s y/n” there it is, that smile that made his heart skip a beat at the first sight of her - “bambi.” she cocks an eyebrow at him, a giggle escaping past her glossy pink and plump lips, “bambi?”

“yeah, bambi. you look like a deer, and you’re lurkin’ in the middle of the fuckin woods like one of em’ so you’re bambi.” the explanation falls to short ears, she doesn’t care about why - she likes it, bambi.

bambi, bambi, bambi.

“do you want to… plant a flower? it’s very relaxing!” he wants to say no — he really does, but with the flutter of her lashes, and the way she pulls her lips in between her perfectly white teeth, it’s hard to resist it.

“sure — whatever, don’t make this shit take forever.” with a blinding smile she pats the spot next to her, beckoning that boy next to her, in which he sits carefully.

“so first you…”

‘well bambi, you’re my deer now.’

another a/n: i really hope you enjoyed reading this, and if you ever have any problems with what i write im more than welcome to critique and for you to request anything! i’m still trying to figure out this tumblr thing with how to put together a masterlist but ill get there eventually! <3

[fauxnova34]

The Ice Between Us

| Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: When you a bored college student signs up for a beginners figure skating class, you never expected to be trained by Wanda Maximoff, the cold and commanding former figure skating champion whose career was cut short by an ACL injury. Wanda’s authority on the ice is absolute, she has no patience for beginners- especially one who seems to struggle with every move. Despite her harsh demeanour you’re more than determined to prove yourself. As Wanda asserts control over the class and over you, a complicated dynamic of power, desire and resistance begins to form. Will you rise to the challenge or crumble under wanda’s unyielding gaze?

Tags/warnings: Mean Wanda, dom/sub, fluff and smut, Age difference, mutual pining, Tension, Kinda enemies to lovers

Author’s note: This is my first series so I’m sorry if it’s not great, all comments/suggestions/critique is welcome but please be kind and respectful. I hope you enjoy the fic and the wild ride we are all in for!

You weren’t exactly sure what had prompted you in the beginning to sign up to this class. Maybe it was the fact that your college schedule felt endless, or maybe it was the idea of gliding on the ice seemed like the perfect escape from the pressures of exams and assignments. You’d always wanted to learn, but never had the chance. So, when a flyer had appeared on the campus bulletin board for extracurricular activities for adults, you had taken the plunge.

What you weren’t prepared for though, was her.

Wanda Maximoff. You’d heard of her of course, everyone had. She was a legend, practically a household name in the world of figure skating and on your TikTok for you page more than you’d like to admit. That was all until a catastrophic ACL injury had forced her out of the competition scene. Now, apparently she was here, in this small rink, offering to teach beginners like you. Your stomach flipped at the sight of her.

Wanda was standing in the set middle of the rink, her posture perfect, wrapped in a simple black jacket that hugged her curves, but there was nothing simple about her presence. She looked like she belonged to the ice like it was an extension of herself. As she began to glide every movement was sharp and graceful. She was without a doubt beautiful, but it was more than that. It was the way she seemed to command attention without even trying.

You shook yourself out of your daze and looked back down to your laces, you were hesitating, feeling the unmistakable rush of nerves in your veins. Was it really too late to turn around? But before you could make up your mind, her eyes found you.

Her gaze was immediate and it felt like a weight on your chest. You swallowed, heart suddenly hammering as she skated towards you with effortless speed, cutting through the ice with precision and grace that made your stomach tighten. She stepped of the ice in front of you, barely a breath away and your mouth went dry.

“You’re late” she said, her voice sharp. Her eyes were cold like they had already sized you up. She spoke up again ���This isn’t the place for latecomers.”

You stammered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “I-I’m sorry. I hadn’t realised the class had already started”

“You’re here to learn how to skate, not to make excuses.” Wanda’s tone left no room for argument. She crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing with quiet judgement. “Hurry up and get in line. We don’t have time for anyone to be behind.”

The words stung and you felt the blush creeping up your neck. She wasn’t even trying to soften her tone. Her presence pressed against you like a weight you couldn’t shake. You were already wishing you could crawl into a hole and hide.

You nodded, unsure of what else to do. Her eyes didn’t leave you, not for a second. You were almost wondering if she was waiting for you to fail. “Laces criss crossed into a bow, be quick about it” she left you with before moving back into the centre.

Forcing your hands into motion you began tying them as she had said criss and crossing until they looks somewhat presentable tying them off with the bow before awkwardly shuffling to the rink where the rest of the class were trying to get into some semblance of rhythm. The other skaters didn’t notice your awkward entrance, but you could feel Wanda’s gaze on you, sharp and unblinking, as if she was waiting to watch every little mistake you would make.

The floor was slippery beneath you, and every step felt like you were about to lose your balance. But you couldn’t let yourself fall, not in front of her. You wanted to be good at this, needing to prove you could be more than another newbie just stumbling around on the ice.

“Don’t just stand there” Wanda’s voice cut through the space. “ Move, this is the beginners class, not the ‘watch people flail’ class. Skate, or get out.”

You froze, not sure if you’d been caught making a bigger mistake or if she just liked to keep her class on edge. That’s until the whole class seemed to stop and stare at you, and for a moment you just wished the earth would swallow you whole. But instead Wanda’s eyes locked with yours, for a fleeting second you’re sure you seen them soften, just barely.

“Try again” she said, her tone still commanding but with a subtle shift, something almost, expectant. “ And this time, don’t waste my time.”

Trying to ignore the way her words stung like a slap, you nodded. There was something about her authority, her control, that both frustrated you and compelled you. You knew she was tough, knew she wouldn’t let anyone slide by easily, but the more she pushed you the more you couldn’t help but want to prove her wrong.

Her eyes remained on you as you took another step, trying again to find some balance to glide across the ice. Every tiny movement seemed to be under her scrutiny and it made you feel both exposed and strangely…alive.

“Better” the word was still sharp, as if she were merely acknowledging that you hadn’t just completely embarrassed yourself. “But that’s not good enough. Do it again and this time, don’t think. Just move.”

It was a command and you didn’t even think to argue. You couldn’t, it felt like you were being bent to her will and you found yourself falling into line whether you wanted to or not.

You glanced around the rink desperate to follow the other skaters but they had already moved on. You were the only one still left struggling, alone in her gaze. She stood there, watching you, every bit the dominant figure that she was. And despite how harsh her words felt, despite the biting coldness in her tone, you couldn’t shake the feeling Wanda wanted something from you, something more than a simple performance.

She wanted obedience. She wanted control.

And for some reason, you couldn’t help but want to give it to her.

[rebeccccccaaa]

Too Sweet

______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: Practically at his beck and call, Spencer knows you’re too sweet for him. He knows he shouldn’t use you but he can’t stop himself when you’re also all too enthusiastic to fuck him ::

warnings :: smutttt, casual sex (kinda lol), oral (fem receiving), over stimulation, insomnia!spencer, spencer spitting facts (literally), reader is described to have hair length long enough to stick to your cheeks, obviously reader is described as afab, not sure what else i should tag so let me know what i miss :)

author’s notes :: hello, hello! honestly i saw this tik tok edit of spencer with this song (Too Sweet - Hozier) and felt a bit inspired by it and also loosely by lyrics too. please be kind as it’s been a couple years since i last wrote a fic and it’s my first one about dr reid too, so let me know if you guys like it, comment, reblog, all that jazz and critiques are more than welcome! Enjoy!

WC :: ~4k

_______________

It was pretty late into the night, it was the first weekend in weeks that the team was able to really enjoy. Spencer sat in a corner of his apartment, a glass of whiskey sat on the table as he flipped the pages of a book he’s read a thousand times before, albeit it was one of favorites. 

He was hesitant to call, he didn’t want to pull you away from enjoying your weekend but when it came to his pleasure, he put himself first. You were always too nice to say no to him and he knew that. It made him feel sleazy sometimes, but this was who he was now. Rugged, damaged, fucked up. He’d been through a lot. But in those moments where you squirmed and whined beneath him, he felt satiated. You were his drug now. 

“Hello?” he mumbled when the call picked up.

“Spencer,” your voice was a whisper as  you practically sang his name.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“Yes,” you responded.

“It’s a little late don’t you think?” he poked. 

“Then why are you calling?” 

You knew why he was calling. He only ever wanted one thing from you when the sky was dark. You didn’t mind it though. You basked in it. You kind of liked it. The feeling of having sex without commitment. Your job didn’t give you enough time for a commitment. You didn’t feel humiliated or belittled by Spencer’s desires. In fact, his lust for you turned you on in most cases. Most. 

Spencer was still a good friend to you. Regardless of sleeping with him, he was your closest friend. And recently, you noticed changes in him. Maybe you’ve kept a closer eye on him more than before but you were a little concerned. You had the right after everything he’s been through. He seemed more tired than usual, even though he was still punctual with work. Although you didn’t sleep in his bed after every time you slept together, when you did, you pretended not to notice his exits and long absences in between the long hours of the night. You could barely hear his ever so quiet footsteps roaming the living room. The clanking of coffee mugs in the kitchen and his quiet ‘Shit’ when he thought he was being too loud.

Three subtle knocks rapped his door, so quiet Spencer would’ve missed if he had breathed just a bit louder. A grin spread across his face subconsciously, glancing at the clock before taking long strides to the door. It was almost midnight. You stood in the doorway with heavy eyes, not the drunk kind, but the tired kind. He moved aside to let you in. Just like last time; and all the other times you showed up at his door for him. 

“I thought you went out tonight,” he questioned, rhetorically. 

“I did. For a bit,” you told him, “I just had one drink, then went home.”

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, you already know the answer. And Spencer knows you know too, though he tried at first to be more subtle in his nightly fixtures. He simply sighed with amusement. You set your things down on his couch, eyes adjusting to the dim lights that hardly lit the room. The glass sitting on the table in the corner caught your eyes though. 

“What are you drinking?” you asked.

“Uh, whiskey. Neat.” 

“Ew, why?” you joked.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugged. A whiskey wouldn’t exactly be Spencer’s first choice of drink but then again his first choice of drink wouldn’t even be alcohol. If it was, he would probably be content with a beer, or something of the sort. He was sort of going through a phase during nights. He was sleeping a lot less too. 

“I just didn’t take you for a whiskey kind of guy,” you teased.

“What kind of guy did you take me for?” he poked; he wasn’t really talking about drinks anymore though. 

“Water,” you joked, making him laugh. 

Spencer stood before you now. His hands were slightly hesitant this time to rest on your hips. 

“Is everything ok, Spencer?” you asked him. 

“Yes,” his voice was a whisper. 

You didn’t believe him, but you knew better than to press him. He was a stubborn guy and whether you did or didn’t you weren’t going to get an answer. You slid your hands up his chest before cupping the back of his neck with your hands. The kiss was chaste. You didn’t want to sleep with him if he was having second thoughts.

“Are you sure? If you’ve changed your mind I can head hom-,” you were telling him.

“No, don’t,” he rushed out. 

“I’m fine; I just haven’t been sleeping well,” he confessed. This surprised you, not because you didn’t know, but because you didn’t think he would tell you. 

“Well, then maybe I should go. That way you can finally get to bed before the sun comes up for once,” you joked with him, “Besides, you’re the one who's always telling people how important sleep is to the human body.”

Your words shocked Spencer this time. Admittedly, in the back of mind he suspected that you could sense him leaving his bed, or your bed sometimes, and that one or more times he’d been a little loud dwindling in the next room. But he didn’t realize you were fully aware of his nightly escapades. You knew him too well. You were too sweet to him. Spencer knew after all the fucked up things he’s been through he didn’t deserve your friendship; or anything more despite the fact.

“Did you know that elephants sleep the least of any other animal?” he told you, he doesn’t know why. Maybe to distract you, or seduce you. Both outcomes came often enough for him to make it a guessing game.

“You’re not an elephant.”

And then there were the ultra rare times when neither outcome happened; just now being one of them. 

“Sleep deprivation has been associated with reduced sexual desire and arousal,” he tried again.

“Well, I can help with that,” you teased. There we go.

He leaned down to kiss your lips but you pulled back in tease, smile on your face; you knew how pussywhipped you had this man. He didn’t want to fight it, he was growing desperate for you with every passing second. Rolling his eyes, he dipped his head in the crook of your neck. His hands left your hips, pulling you closer to him from your waist and lower back. Your hands began to unbutton his shirt, he was still wearing the clothes you saw him working in earlier that day. 

You stopped him, never been one to have sex anywhere other than the bedroom, taking his hand already knowing where to go after doing so many times before already. Although, it wasn’t like his apartment was a confusing labyrinth. He followed you like always. 

You reached the edge of the bed, sitting instinctively. Your hand went straight to his belt, undoing it with ease. Spencer pulled your hands away from his hips before sinking to his knees to the ground. He pulled your hips to the very edge, scratching the skin as he desperately pulled at your pants bringing them down your legs. Of course you let him.

He pushed you back and you fell on your elbows, still able to see him so clearly. See him dip his head and kiss the skin on the inside of your knee, his eyes lingering on yours. You let your head go for a second, basking in the feeling of his lips. They always made you feel so warm and tingly. One thing about Spencer, he loved foreplay. All the little things that lead up to sex. Most of the time, he craved the foreplay more than the sex itself. 

He moved your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your thighs, his hands holding your hips. His nose ran along your inner thighs. Your skin erupted in goosebumps at the feeling of his warm breath coming from his nose. His fingers fiddled against your hip bones and you wiggled a bit becoming desperate by the minute for something more than just this teasing.

“Spence,” you whined, looking back at him.

“It doesn’t matter how many times we do this, you’ll never learn patience will you?” Spencer bartered. 

“Spencer, I don’t come to you to learn patience,” you spat, not with any malice however.

“You won’t come at all with that attitude,” he snapped back, hiding a grin between your legs. 

“Spencer!” you gasped.

He chuckled lowly, bringing his hand between your thighs, pulling your underwear to the side to expose you to him. You were glistening, slick beginning to leak from you already. Spencer could feel himself getting hard. He precariously tried to not buck his hips into the bed like horny teenager.  

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. 

He stepped up quickly letting your legs drop harshly. His fingers curled over the hem of your underwear pulling them down and tossing behind his shoulder before returning to his previous position. He felt like he was possessed. Acting and moving like it was primal, instinctive. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to satisfy you. 

He kissed all the places except the place you needed the most. You curled your toes anticipating his next move, longing for his lips, tongue, fingers, anything to bring you pleasure. Just when you were about to sit up, ready to nag at him, his lips wrapped around your bud. 

Your shoulders gave out at the feeling. Your body electrifying instantaneously. Your eyes trained on the ceiling, focusing on everything about Spencer in this moment, the sounds, his touch, his tongue. His tongue dipping in you every now and then, making you moan feverishly. His hands spread out, pinning your hips down to the bed to try and get you to stop wiggling your hips, but he wasn’t too successful in that. 

“Knock it off,” he groaned, removing a hand wrapped around your leg to bring his fingers to your entrance.

“It’s not enough; I need more,” you whined.

“No, you want more,” he debuted, “You’re being greedy.”

“And you’re being mean,” you quipped, you always had something to retort.

“Ok, fine,” he stood up.

“Stop!” you whined, “Please, come back. Do whatever you want.”

“I will,” he sat on his knees again, instantly bringing his fingers up to rub slow circles that made your toes curl. 

He purposefully let them every now and then prod at your entrance make your hips jerk in surprise. He could see how wet you were, all of the slick telling him how needy you were. He looked up to look at your face. His eyes catching your nipples peeking through the fabric of your shirt from the pleasure already, smiling to himself. 

“Sexual arousal can cause an increase in blood flow to not just female genitalia, but also the breasts,” he told you, feeling your thighs squeeze ever so slightly.

“Is that your way of telling me my nipples are hard because of you?” you teased.

“Yes,” he stated before diving straight back between your thighs. 

His tongue did circles like his fingers, the wetness and warmth much more stimulating than before. His fingers slid inside you, curling when he couldn’t push them any further. You moaned out, reaching your hand down to comb your fingers through Spencer’s shaggy hair. The noises of everything bounced off the walls of Spencer’s shallow bedroom. It sounded vulgar but so sexy. Your heavy breathing practically syncing together. 

Your thighs squeezed more and more as you got closer to your climax; you didn’t care if you were suffocating Spencer. If he died, he died pleasuring you and neither of you minded it in this moment. Your hips grinding against his tongue chasing you release frantically. Spencer pumped his fingers in and out of you rapidly, leading you to ecstasy. 

Your breaths became shaking, as did your moans. You were overcome with pleasure as your orgasm hit you so suddenly. You could feel Spencer’s smile growing against you, you knew that he wasn’t going to withdraw despite reaching your climax. 

“Oh god, too much, Spence.” 

“First it was not enough, now it’s too much?” he taunted you, fingers still pumping in and out you strenuously. 

“Spence!” you wailed, your voice trembling embarrassingly. 

When he wouldn’t give out, you pulled at his hair as you sat up and pulled his mouth away from between your thighs. 

“Oh ow, ow, ow!” he whined. 

“Jesus, you were gonna give me a heartache,” you whined. 

“Actually the possibility of having a heart attack during sexual activity is exceedingly low. So you wouldn’t have had anything to worry about; if anything you would get a small headache,” he explained. 

“You’re giving me a headache,” you whined, making him laugh.  

You pulled him from the back of his neck, crashing his lips against yours. You loved to kiss Spencer. You always felt the closest to him physically when you kissed. Which is ironic since he was quite literally inside you most nights. Kissing, the art of kissing, was practically your love language. You always gave small pecks when you were together, privately of course. 

Spencer was worried at first, that kissing was too intimate that things would complicate fast and feelings would get hurt. But as time went on and things continued to stay normal between you, he just began to relish in it rather than worry about nothing. At least that’s what he’s convinced himself of. 

He suddenly remembered the first time you slept together. You were in his apartment one night going over some details of the case. Nothing so major, or frightening, but something wasn’t adding up. You decided to take a break, cracking open some beers and just talk. One beer became two, then three, then four and then suddenly bottles littered the pitiful coffee table in front of you. You were very clear with him, “I don’t just sleep with anybody.” But you were a woman with needs just as much as Spencer was a man, “Neither do I.”

“Things have to stay the way they are if we do this,” he told you that night.

“They will,” you assured him. 

You rested your forehead against his seeing his eyes seem different. Spencer always did this. Everytime, just for a minute or even a second, he would disappear behind his eyes, like he was reminiscing on a memory you couldn’t describe. 

“You did that thing again,” you said with a small grin on your face. 

“I know,” he blushed, “Sorry.”

“You ever gonna tell me what you’re thinking about when you do that?” you questioned.

“Nope,” he smirked, making you giggle. 

Spencer stood straight up shagging his shirt off before scrambling out of his pants. He crawled back over you settling his hips between your thighs as he dipped his head down to attach his lips to your neck. Your hand curled around his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair as his breath and lips tickled your skin. Your hips fit together snuggly, grinding against desperate to chase each other’s highs.

Spencer reached into the drawer beside your head to pull out a condom. You snatched it from his hands with a devilish smirk on your face tearing it with your teeth. You spat the foil corner from your mouth, pulling the condom from its package before tossing it aside. You reached between your bodies stroking Spencer. His face blushing red, contorting with pleasure as it’s the first of the night to feel some sort of friction he needed from the beginning. The reason he called you in the first place. 

Spencer let his hands trace your skin. Though you wouldn’t react, your skin erupted in goosebumps. Feeling him prodding against your entrance, your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat. You always anticipated this part. No matter how many times you and Spencer spent the night together, you couldn’t ever get used to the flips your stomach made at this time. 

Spencer pushed his hips into you, his length stroking your walls making your hum in delight. Spencer’s breath became heavy as he pulled out just enough before rutting back in you with skill. Your face began to feel hot as Spencer began to find a good rhythm. You could feel the sweat building on your forehead, the air cold against your scalp. 

You looked at Spencer’s face; the veins bulging from his forehead and his neck. You cupped his cheek with your hand, catching his rhythm with your hips. Your breath became heavy, your hums became moans. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most vocal lover you laid with. Not that Spencer was your lover of course. That‘s not what you meant.

“What’s going on in that pretty little brain?” Spencer’s voice took you from your sudden trance; his pace beginning to slow. He brought his hand to your face, pulling the stray hairs that stuck to your cheeks from your sweat away.

“Nothing, just don’t stop,” you sighed, pulling his lips down to yours again. 

Spencer picked up his pace again, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. You felt overcome with an ambitious heat throughout your body. You pushed Spencer’s shoulders up trying your best to cool down without stopping your chase to your high. Spencer sat on his knees gripping your hips, practically ramming his hips into yours. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets beneath you. 

“Oh god, fuck,” you cried out. Your thighs squeezing Spencer’s torso as you began to get closer to your climax. 

“Shit, it’s like I can’t get enough no matter how many times I have you squirming beneath me,” he gloated. 

You could see Spencer's chest begin to get red, his knuckles however turning white. Your hands reached down gripping his wrists. Prying them away, before sitting up to straddle his legs, as they stretched forward, adjusting comfortably. You held on to his shoulders sturdily, finding an entirely new rhythm to chase your high. 

Spencer’s hands ran up your back, sliding under your shirt that you had yet to take off. No wonder you were overwhelmed with heat. He peeled the tight fabric from your skin, tossing it to the ground like he has so many times before. He unhooked your bra with ease, his eyes instantly trained to your chest. He couldn’t help his hands following, massaging the soft skin. Spencer looked up to you as you bounced up and down. Sweat dripping seductively down the valley of your breasts. 

“You’re so pretty,” Spencer whispered, staring up at you.

“I know,” you joked breathlessly, giving him a playful wink. 

Spencer let out a breathy laugh at that. The both of you were itching for a release now. Your bodies squirming against one another, aching to give the other the release. You leaned back placing your hands on his thighs, moving your hips faster and harder than before. 

“Spencer, I’m getting close, I feel it,” you whimpered, “Please tell me you’re close too.”

“I’m close,” he breathed out.

“Fuck,” you cried.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go,” Spencer mused, he reached between you two, fingers circling quickly between your thighs to bring you to climax even faster.

You gasped out, chest heaving as you felt the waves of pleasures wash over you suddenly. You couldn’t help the loud moans escaping from you as you threw your head back; arched back and thighs tensed. Spencer’s hand held your body close to himself, and you curled forward wrapping your arms around his head as you climaxed indefinitely. Spencer grunted below you, his legs stiffening and jerking upward. Curses whispered from his lips. 

“Oh, shit,” you gasped, relaxing and slumping your body over Spencer. 

“Treat me good, like always,” he whispered, his hand coming briefly to stroke your hair gently. 

He rolled you over, laying you lazily on his bed before climbing out of the bed swiftly. He stumbled his way to dispose of the rubber. He grabbed a small towel from a drawer along with something to cover himself. He sat silently on the edge of the bed, gently cleaning you as your eyes slowly blinked, telling him you were exhausted. 

“You want to stay the night? I can see how tired you are.” 

“I’ll be gone first thing in the morning,” you quipped with a small grin on your face. 

Spencer laid beside you, covering your body with the blankets. You curled by his side, your leg falling over his hips. He turned the lights out, but the soft golden glow from the lights in the room next door streamed in. His arm wrapped around you, fingers softly stretching your back. Steady breaths against his chest gave him a sense of comfort. He was always a bit jealous how easily sleep came to you; how peaceful you looked when you did. Spencer tried to close his eyes. He tried to let rest wash over him like a blanket. What felt like seconds was an hour. And another hour. He peeked at his watch laying on the nightstand beside him, three o’clock the time read. 

Sighing, he sneaked out of bed, careful to not wake you. He skulked towards the kitchen, eyeing the small glass of whiskey still on the table. He couldn’t help smirk to himself over it. He opened the cabinet grabbing a mug, pouring a bitter liquid into it. He took a big swig of his favorite beverage, basking in all the flavors, when suddenly a beautiful figure stood before him. 

“Hey,” his voice was quiet. 

“I’m guessing you haven’t slept,” you tiptoed your way to him, you could hear him sighing. 

“Is there anything at all I can do to help you?” you whispered, carefully placing your hand on Spencer’s warm back. 

“No, but having you here is enough.”

You were beginning to blur the lines between your arrangement and your friendship. But neither you nor Spencer could muster up the courage to stop what you’ve started. Spencer indulged in your sweetness, the way you were always there to satiate his desires, the way you opened yourself to him like heaven’s gate. And you, well you would never admit it. Being in love with Spencer that is. You’ve known him for years; seen the best parts of him and helped him through the worst. You knew him the best of anyone you’ve known before. And he could say the same too. He’s never opened up to anyone as much as he has to you. 

You were perfect for each other. And yet, Spencer wouldn’t allow himself to bask in it. He truly believed he didn’t deserve you. That all the demons that haunted him in these dark hours were undeserving of your kindness, compassion, gentleness. Simply thinking about you was often enough to calm him in tense situations. But he would never tell you this. So here he was, standing in the kitchen with his coffee black at three in the morning wondering why you couldn’t see that he would never be enough for you. 

[selkies-world]

To sum up: they still think that trans peoples human rights are an online conversation, and expect the series to run for 10 consecutive years.

So let's get ahead of this right now.

I propose a media-wide blackout of everything Harry Potter related when the first season is released. No tweeting about it, not even to trash it. No posting online about it at all - No Instagram stories or posts, no TikToks, no snaps, no memes on FB, not a word on here, nothing. They will not commit themselves to 10 consecutive years of something if the first season flops. They might attempt a second season, but we can shoot that down, too.

I cannot still be dealing with the hate this woman has for us in 10 years. I cannot still be having this conversation when I'm in my mid-30s. I need her to be dead & forgotten by then, or used as a cautionary tale after her death. We can revive the fandom after she has died, depending what her will stipulates will be done with her bloodmoney. Okay? Is that a good enough compromise for you? You just have to wait for her to die, and not leave her estate & bank account to anti-trans stuff, and then you can get back to loving Potter. Deal?

But in the meantime, we need Warner Bros. to see that they cannot make money from this show. We need them to lose money. We need them to lose enough money that even JKR funding the entire project won't be enough for them to take the risk. Right now, they're saying that JKR's reputation & blatant transphobia have not impacted their ability to find more than enough people to audition for the series. We need them to rethink that. We need them to see that this is not the next Marvel-length franchise to get rich on.

Since I know some of you haven't participated in a media blackout protest before, here's how it'll work:

Don't hype the series / fandom / author / cast up in the lead-up to the series being released. Don't trash it, either. Ignore it. Forget about it. || This means that they won't get good word-of-mouth rates online, which means they will need to really push advertising to get enough people interested.

Don't watch the adverts online. Don't like or comment on the videos, not even with hate or pro-trans stuff. || Engaging with online ads or videos in any way gives them positive data, because it feeds the algorithm & let's them make money from the adverts. We don't want that.

When the series is released, don't watch it. Don't talk about it. Don't tweet about it. Don't post about it. Don't tiktok about it. Don't complain about it. Don't trash it. Pretend it doesn't exist. Ignore it. Forget about it. || They need their launch to earn them money, and even if you're posting about how bad it is, or posting anti-JKR content using the show's hashtags, even if you're watching it in order to know exactly what to complain about & critique, you are still giving them money. They still earn royalties from you watching it, regardless of your intentions. They still get word-of-mouth and clout from you posting about it, even if what you're saying is negative. You know the expression "There's no such thing as bad press"? This is what that refers to. It doesn't matter if you're sharing love or hate for the franchise, because you're still promoting it by saying its name. Also, an overwhelming amount of negative press online can and does lead to other people deciding to watch it to see why everyone is complaining, and arguing about it online, all of which feeds the creators more royalties. We don't want them to earn money from this.

Spread news about other shows & films & franchises & books. Get a fandom which has been dead for 10+ years trending again. Get anime shows & Futurama & ATLA & Adventure Time & Owl House & Over the garden Wall & some really obscure franchises trending across all social media platforms. Get something from the 80s trending in the Top 3 on Twitter. Engage with fandoms you're not even part of. Get BL shows trending in Netflix's Top 5. || This will completely skew analytics online, and it will flood people's dashboards with cmenough content that they won't see promotional content for the series we are blacking out. It will also show spikee data for which genres & shows are more popular & getting more attention & more royalties.

Share media with transgender actors / directors / crew. Share media with LGBTQIA+ storylines. Share pro-trans & pro-LGBTQIA+ content. Share & donate to fundraisers which help Trans & LGBTQIA+ people. Share Trans & LGBTQIA+ history. Show & Share Trans & LGBTQIA+ positivity & love & pride. Do all of this without acknowledging the series or creator we are blacking out. || This will show overwhelmingly positive & inclusive analytics, which will prioritise showing more of the same content. This is what we want the data to show.

Do not give in to temptation to look the show up. Do not look up the cast. Do not look up the directors or producers or executives. Do not look up the soundtrack. Do not put anything remotely related to the series into a search bar of any kind. || Search algorithms still store data, and if enough people look the same stuff up, it will show positive online engagement. We do not want this.

Do not give the actors hate. Do not tag them in hateful content online. Do not abuse them & do not bully them. || This is just unnecessary.

Give the blackout a cool-down period. Continue to ignore it for at least 10 days after the launch. || This forces the show's analytics to fall into negatives. If you suddenly start engaging with something immediately after blacking out the launch, the analytics show a delayed uptake - but it still shows them that people will engage with it, and that they will make money from it. We do not want this.

After the cool down period, mock it. Remember the mocmery that the Velma show got? And you've seen the mockery of the Rachel Zeigler version of Snow White is getting? And how that is impacting the ratings for Songbirds & Snakes because people don't want to watch her, at all, in anything? That is what we need to create on purpose. || If a show gets hate, the creators can use it to feed controversial interest in the show - 'Come watch this to see why people are hating!'. It's as beneficial as positive reviews. They can recover from it. But mockery? Mockery & dismissal is far more difficult to recover from, as it does more damage to their names and reputation. People do not want to be associated with a project which was mocked after it lost them a lot of money. Audiences are also much less likely to engage with a series which has been publicly mocked, compared to hated.

Only mock it for the same amount of time as the cool-down period. || This prevents the series from getting a large spike in analytics.

After this, ignore it. Move on. Talk & post about other stuff. Watch other stuff. || This will result in the show's analytics returning to negatives, and remaining there.

This is a strategy which is proven to work. It has worked for multiple franchises. It is behavioural analytics. It will work for this, but only if we commit to it & get enough people taking part.

All we have to do is:

Do not watch the HBO HP series

Do not post about it online

Ignore it

Do not play, stream or buy any games related to HP

Do not rematch the movies on a streaming service - JKR will still earn royalties from that

Do not post about JKR during the media blackout

Share pro-trans & pro-LGBTQIA+ content & history instead

Support trans creators & actors

Mock the series after the cool down time & then move on

Stick to this method. It WILL work.

And to dispute any attempted justifications for engaging with it:

"But she won't be involved!" || She is listed as an executive producer for the show

"But it's not the actors' fault!" || Actually, it is. The adult actors should know better than to involve themselves with this franchise, and the child actors' parents should know better than to exploit their children's desire to be famous &/ or their love of the series, because the adults should be socially aware enough to know that this franchise will harm their children in the long run.

"But what about my childhood nostalgia!" || What about trans people's human rights & dignity? What about trans children who don't think they'll make it to 18? What about the fact our Prime Minister is selling out transgender rights of his people for Trump? Wht about all of the trans people in the UK who are now facing the possibility of losing more of our rights? What about all of the little trans girls & boys & envies who saw those TERFs celebrating stealing their legal right to identify as their gender, with champagne on national TV? What about trans children who won't be able to go on 100% reversible hormone blockers because JKR funded the vitriol which made them illegal? What about all of the trans women & girls who just lost their legal rights this week? What about our right to legally exist? What about privacy rights and medical & legal autonomy for women & afab people in the UK? What about all the trans people who just watched 21 years of work & progress go down the drain in one afternoon? Are we not worth as much as one of the many memories of your childhood?

Nobody is saying you're not allowed to watch the DVDs or pirate it or read the books or listen to CDs or records of it. Just do not use streaming services for any of it, do not use YouTube, do not talk about it on Twitch & don't post about it online.

We need this franchise to die. We need the producers to see they can't make enough money from this to justify continuing it after the first season. We cannot still be having this argument in the mid 2030s.

We need to get ahead of this right now and stamp the fire out before it kills more trans people.

You understand that buying a Tesla = supporting the Elongated Muskrat & Trump. You understand that buying McDonald's or Starbucks funds Isreal & harms Palestinians. You understand that watching Sandman supports Neil Gaimen. You understand that watching Aquaman funds Amber Herd.

So why is it so hard for you to apply that exact same logic to JKR, when you can see the harm she is causing in real time to real people?

[lostinlovingrevery]

Skinny Dipping (18+ Only!)

Logan X F!Reader

Plot: You're bored, and you decided to go bug Logan on a hot day

A/N: I actually had this idea in my head FOREVER. This is the first time writing smut, so pls forgive for any inaccuracies. I actually had fun with it! but I feel I still need some work on describing a scene with so much movement happening. You could technically imagine any Logan, but I pictured the X! movies Logan. Comments/critiques welcome and appreciated!

Warnings: Friends-to-Lovers type style, Smut, Unprotected PiV, slight voyeurism, nudity, sex in a lake (watch out for STIs!), it's sorta dubious consent but readers been horny for him for awhile and very eagerly accepts it. Not proofread and I also wrote this in one go.

Word Count: 2996

It was an unusually hot spring day at Xavier's School for the Gifted. The air held a certain dryness that was usually felt in deep July, and the sun was annoyingly bright. It was Saturday, most of the students had gone home to be with their parents, and the ones that stayed here were taken on a field trip by the other professors to a local planetarium. You had some work to finish up, so you stayed behind in your study. It was just you, and Mr.No-Fun Wolverine, who didn’t go either because he didn’t feel like babysitting. 

You were tired of having sat in your study most of the morning. You were almost done with your work and figured you could finish it up in the evening or on Sunday. It was one of the most rare moments you ever had in school- time alone.

Except you weren’t planning to spend it alone.

You left behind your study, your work, to hunt down Logan. Something had crawled in your bones and urged you to go annoy the hell out of him. Your favorite activity. Despite it being a huge mansion, it wasn’t hard to find him- sitting in the living room, watching some old movie you’d probably seen before but couldn’t really care about to remember the name of. What you focused on was the swirl of smoke coming from his hand.  

“Y���know, you aren’t supposed to be smoking in here.” Your voice made him turn his head, giving you a side glance, just to acknowledge you. He purely grunted in response, turning his head back to the tv as he took another long- almost as if he was being obnoxious- puff of his cigar. You walked around the couch to face the front of him, and his eyes tracked you, as he took his time blowing the smoke past his lips, another obnoxious move to rub in your face that he just didn’t care. He leaned back on the couch, spreading his legs in some kind of display of dominance that didn’t really deter you from backing down. It merely just turned you on. 

“Ain’t no one here to complain bub.” He finally says, eyes leaving you and turning back to the tv. You weren’t going to take that though. You moved to step in front of the tv, blocking his view. You crossed your arms. 

“I’m here.” You challenged yourself. “It stinks Logan. Seriously.” 

“I’ll light a candle.” 

“That’ll just make it worse.” 

He shrugged, showing you he didn’t consider it his problem. “You’re blocking my light doll.” He mutters. You kept your spot, arms still crossed, and eyebrow quirked upwards as if questioning if he was going to do anything about it. He looked at you, and finally he gave in, leaning forward, he stubbed the cigar out on the ashtray that he likely had stashed in his room and brought out here, looking at you with his brow drawn together and his lips pursed together in displeasure. You actually could have cared less if he smoked, the stench of cigars had become a welcome smell- because that’s what he smelled like and it had grown comforting to you. Like you felt earlier- you just wanted to annoy him. You could never actually do that though, because he was too fond of you to ever actually be annoyed with you in any shape or form.

You and Logan were close. You were the only person who challenged him when he’d forget his manners and become rough around the edges. You’ve kept him in check since he’s come to the school. You also were the only person who’s truly taken the time to get to know him. You saw beneath the rough exterior, the raised hackles, and the bared fangs- something everyone else saw as aggression, you saw it as self-defense. You broke through his stone-like exterior, his foolhardy confidence, and his flirty way of pushing people away, and found a man who simply was lost in the world, lost in who he was. You found him to be intelligent, compassionate and has a great penchant for being a sweetheart if you just gave him time. To put it simply, you loved him to pieces, for the man he is. He, on the other hand, has been too damn stubborn to let himself experience any joy of being loved and cared for. You knew he felt the same though, you saw the way his eyes would lighten up when he saw you in the kitchen in the mornings, how he would relax when you’d join the X-men meetings and sit next to him, the gentle way he’d touch your shoulder or hand- as if afraid he was going to hurt you. Whatever it was you guys had going on between you, it was being completely unspoken and frankly you were growing impatient. At first, you believed that Logan simply needed time to adjust- then he would make a move. Now though, you think it’s you that needs to make the move. Logan has an incredible ability to be self-destructive and shut himself out from the world. Even if you see the yearning he has in his eyes in front of you right now, you’re not sure he’d ever do anything, purely for the sake that he believes you deserve better.

You know what you want though, and by God you’re going to get it. 

Logan, has met his match in someone equally as bull-headed as he is. 

“Thank you.” You say dropping your arms to your side, and moving away from the tv. You walked over to him, and grabbed his hand. “C’mon.”

“What?” 

“Let's go for a walk.” 

“It’s hot outside bub.” He pulled his arm back, making you groan dramatically. 

“I’ve been cooped up all morning. I wanna go take a hike by the lake.” You say grabbing his hand again, this time succeeding in pulling him off the couch. You knew you’d never be able to actually lift him- as heavy as he is- but he’d just hate to see you struggle. You smiled at him victoriously as he rolled his eyes and sighed just as dramatic as your groan. 

“Fine.” He mutters. He can say no to you once. Twice though? How could he when he’s looking straight into your pretty little eyes, looking so pleadingly at him. 

You did a little dance in victory, a small wiggle of your hips- his eyes couldn’t help catch sight of, as you held onto his hand and pulled him with you as you made your way to the front door, outside in the heat, and down the familiar path that you’ve walked with Logan plenty of times before- whenever either of you just needed to get out together, and talk, towards the lake somewhere on the estate of the school. 

Your walk had started out silent, side by side, your hands brushing against each other. If it wasn’t so hot, you’d actually be clinging to him- you’d hook your arm around his, you’d lean your side against him- he didn’t mind, he was tall and sturdy, and the weight of you pressed against him was grounding. Now though, even though you urged to be near him, the hot sun pushed a space between you. 

Half way on the walk, that’s when you started complaining. “Ugh, it’s WAY too hot for April.”

“Told ya.” he mutters. He glanced at you, and you were tugging on the hem of your neckline, pulling back and forth to allow some air, showing the cleavage of your breast, enough to make him get some dirty thoughts. Something something- licking the sweat off your skin… His eyes darted away from you. 

There was tension building between you both. Something that had been building a long time, you- you didn’t like leaving things unresolved. 

Reaching the lake, you both slowed your pace to enjoy the scenery and the nature around there. Logan wouldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed these walks with you. He enjoyed the ones that were filled with comfortable silence, and the ones where you both couldn’t stop talking, it was rare to get him into a conversation, but you had a way of drawing it out of him. You’d talk about everything from politics, religion, his history, your history, the universe, how bad Scott and Jean's cooking was.  

This walk would be no different, if it wasn’t for your complaining.

“I told you it was hot.” He states again, “But you wanted to go out.” 

“Well excuse me for wanting to stretch my legs, get some fresh air.” You say, glancing at the lake. It looked cool, refreshing. That’s when you get an idea. 

“There’s a whole mansion full of stuff to do-” He says as he keeps walking, He picks up that you stopped, no longer next to him anymore, “Bub?” He turned around, his face dropping as he watched you shed your last item of clothing, and began to run into the water. Once you were up to your knees, you dived in- creating a splash of water that sent waves rippling towards the shore where he stood. His eyes trailed over to where you left your clothes behind, and blood rushed straight down, stirring his cock. 

You popped your head up above the water, your location now deeper into the lake, having to kick your legs to keep you afloat, and you waved at him. He swallowed, as he pictured your naked form- having only gotten a glance of it before you disappeared into the water. His cock throbbed in the confines of his jeans. 

Fuck it

He thought to himself, as he moved to shed his own clothes. You had turned around, swimming small laps in circles, dipping your head underwater to refresh yourself, feeling the inner temperature of your body cooling off. You didn’t notice him taking his clothes off- you somehow didn’t hear him over your splashing as he quietly swam towards you. 

So when his arm came around your waist, turning you and pulling you against him, you shrieked at first. Only to gasp as your breasts came pressed against his chest, the feeling of his coarse hair stimulating your nipples that had become hard from the cold of the water. He barely gave you a chance to catch up to what was happening as his lips crashed down onto yours, making you moan as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. You relaxed your legs from kicking, able to rely on Logan who’s already so freakishly tall, was still standing as the water lapped at his shoulders. You marveled at the feeling of his muscled body against yours, his strong arms wrapped around you, god you spent forever imaging him like this.

He nipped at your lips, moving down into your jaw, sucking and biting at the skin there, while his hands ran up and down over your body. One hand pressed to your lower back, the other ran up your thigh, warming your skin that had grown cold from the water temperature, he pressed the hand under your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his hips- which you eagerly obliged. He groaned,

“You’re gonna be the death of me, bub-” He muttered as he pressed kisses down your neck, “Being a fucking tease like that. You were planning this the entire time weren’t you?”

You couldn’t help but giggle, not responding to his question, as his beard delightfully scratched at the skin of your collarbone. You brought your hands up into his hair, running it through the wet strands and scratching at his scalp gently- making him moan in response. You tipped your head back and raised your hips, softly grinding against his lower abdomen, really also urging him to put his lips on your chest. His mouth sucked and licked the skin of your breast, his hand coming up to fondle and squeeze the nipple of the other, as he twirled his tongue over one, making you moan- a warm, syrupy honey feeling sat in the bottom of your stomach- but it wasn’t enough. 

“Logan-” You whined, your hands tightening through his hair. 

“I know, I got you baby.” He murmured against your skin, right over the place where your heart is located. Adjusting the both of you, he brought his lips back to yours, pressing a few small pecks against them, as he ran his throbbing member between your folds, making you gasp at the sheer size of him. 

“Fuck, you’re big.” You whimpered into his lips, shutting your eyes tight, you could feel him smile against your cheek. 

“You can take it.” He purred soothingly into your ear.

The resistance of the water against your bodies forced you both to be slow. As fast as Logan wanted to fuck into you, he was forced to take his time, as he wrapped an arm around your waist, using his other hand to lead his tip into your entrance. The water provided a natural lubricant for you, although you wouldn’t have needed it, even before now, Logan just had this amazing ability to soak your panties through, unlike anyone else. 

You felt him enter, and gasped, practically a squeal as he pushed into you- music to his ears.

“That’s right-” He moaned. “Make all the pretty sounds you want gorgeous, I got you.” as he pushed deeper inside you, a small thrust of his hips, and he was down to the hilt inside you. Your cunt was tight around him, almost molding around his length, making him grunt as he had to take a moment to not bust inside you right then.

“Oh god-” You gasped, pressed your forehead against his. His nose bumping clumsily against yours, as you felt his own breath began to pick up. His hands moved down to your hips, he dug his fingers into your plush skin, attempting to get as much leverage as he could, before he lifted you up in the water,

It felt like slow motion, the way the lake pushed at you both, as if it was reminding you to slow down, and savor the moment between you. His hands pushed down on your hips, his movements fighting at the water, as he brought you back down onto him again. He continued those movements, angling his hips forward under the water, digging his feet into the sandy ground he stood on. Once he found a steady pace, an angle that sent you squealing, wrapping your thighs tight against his hips, your hands digging almost painfully into your scalp, he kept going. 

“Been wanting to do this for fucking ever baby-” He grunted. 

“Lo-” You whimpered. Every thrust hit that sweet spot inside of you. He glided easily in and out, his hips bouncing against yours, but you wanted him deeper. You spread your legs- your thighs open farther, the water allowing you to easily loosen your limbs and float, his grip on you keeping you close. You gripped onto his shoulders, tipping your head back. Your upper half of your body came out of the water with each thrust, and Logan watched- hypnotized by how your wet tits bounced, and he felt heat pooling inside him. You were so fucking perfect. Everything about you, your face, your lips, your tits and ass. Your personality, your heart. “Lo please-!” You gasped.

“Fuck-” He grunted, bringing a hand to your throbbing clit, as he begin to rub tight circles against it, sending your hips squirming against his. “That’s it, take it all-” He moaned. “Feel good darling?”

You nodded desperately, finally getting that stimulation you needed, as you quickly brought your body back to him, desperate to feel him everywhere as you began to rise to your peak. “Don’t stop, please don’t-” You begged, as you placed open mouth kisses on his lips that he returned. 

“Cmon, cum for me-” He grunted. His thighs were shaking, and he was unsure he’d be able to hold out much longer. He wanted you to cum first, he needed you to cum first. He wanted to see you come undone by him, to feel your cunt pulse and squeeze him so tightly he couldn’t pull out if he tried. “Fuck, fuck, I love you-” He practically whined into your mouth. 

That was exactly what you needed, as you felt your explosive finish finally reach your peak. You screamed his name as your legs wrapped around him, and you buried your face into his neck, moaning and crying as waves of hot ecstasy ran through your body. You cupped his face with one hand.

“I love- I love you too-” You managed to gasp, looking up at him in his eyes. It filled you with a certain pride, as you watched Logan's face become undone, as he thrusted up into you, you could feel his cock throb, and his cum coating your walls inside, making you feel full, and warm. He practically whimpered, carefully pulling out, as he held onto you, his head resting against your shoulder. 

“Fuck, sorry.” He muttered,

“It’s alright, I really don’t mind.” You hum amused. You would have told him to finish inside anyway. 

He sighed, looking up at you. His eyes were filled with adoration as he looked over your face. You smiled, cupping his jaw, leaning forward to give him a sweet kiss, that he happily returned. 

“Feel better?” He asked, a cheeky grin on his face. You rolled your eyes.”You got out, got some air, stretched your legs.”

“Shut up!” You playfully hit his shoulder, pretending to pull away from him, but he didn’t let you go, pulling you back into his arms as he wrapped them around you protectively. 

“Uh uh, you ain’t going anywhere bub.” He purred. “Now that I got you, I ain’t letting you go.”

“It’s about time…” You smiled, muttering against his lips, but he only smiled. You were wrong, Logan did end up making the first move. Turns out, you just needed to keep being a pain in his ass. 

[drdemonprince]

Did you ever struggle with feeling guilty about transitioning, especially w/r/t transmasculinity being in some way antifeminist? I often feel like I’m committing an act of betrayal :/ Like, if I can choose on some level what position to occupy in gendered society, then is it morally defensible to move towards the oppressor position?

(Why yes, I do have anxiety and serious issues with rumination, often themed around the ways in which I am probably a bad person)

Personally, no. I never felt welcome in mainstream cis feminism. I felt strongly alienated by the gender essentialism, the exclusion of trans people, and the mix of cruelty and neglect that was lobbed at male victims of sexual assault and domestic violence.

I had been sexually victimized by women numerous times in my life, and mainstream feminism didn't seem to have anything to say about that, or any sympathy for the victims of women. Within feminist activist groups that I had some tertiary connection to, I saw trans women being excluded from events for sexual violence survivors, and observed a cis female get away with repeated acts of sexual aggression and abuse because she was a woman and a survivor, and so no one felt free to argue with her about what she "needed" in order to recover (in this case, forcing trans men to have sex with her). In these spaces my own body was commented upon, my boundaries were pushed, and a great deal of coercion and underminement was constantly going around.

I was also highly put off by the individualistic, girl-boss feminist nature of most feminist movements that I witnessed as a person growing up in the early 2000's - 2010s. In academic labs studying gender-based oppression, people spoke only against the pay gap faced by white women, never the ones faced by women of color or men of color. Critiques of white feminism were rarely if ever taken seriously. It was a gross environment to be around, and I avoided it as much as possible, honestly.

I didn't become a feminist at all, really, until after I embraced myself being trans. Once I was firmly out of the coerced "female" box, I could witness how much easier life was for me than for women. I listened to trans feminist thinkers and saw clear patterns in how transmisogyny and misogyny played out that helped me better understand things. And I felt confident enough to speak out about my status as a man who has been preyed upon by women and sexually abused by them, as well as by men, and to critique mainstream feminism for its transphobia, racism, and other problems. And because I was a man, I always got away with saying such things.

Personally I think feminist movements aren't shit if they aren't trans feminist, and while I can hardly claim to have always been enlightened on all trans feminist matters (like a lot of trans mascs, I used to long for having been "born a boy" and "having more confidence" from it, believing that male socialization was that simple, my resentment and dysphoria curdling into a pretty transmisogynistic world view even if i didnt realize it), something profoundly rotten and missing within mainstream feminist movements always kept me out of it. It was never a comfortable, safe space for me and I didn't give a shit about 'betraying' it.

[marigold-field]

Okie do you have any head canons for maybe Jason with a reader who is like maybe burnout /exhausted

…I’m projecting but that’s ok

If you don’t I totally get it and hope you have a good day !!! ✨✨

a/n: thank you for your request! i definitely got carried away…slightly self indulgent 😭. i’m obsessed with jason being a softie

- jason todd was no stranger to the overwhelming feeling of being stuck in a position of little to no upward movement. that feeling of consistent failure to find joy in the things that should be enjoyable

- so, it didn’t take long for him to notice that you, his loving girlfriend, was going through a rough patch

- you had been drowning in work—either from school or from your job—and felt as though the pressure was 100% on you

- with no motivation whatsoever, that work continued to pile and it got harder and harder to get through the days

- fearful of adding onto the burden you knew Jason carried on his shoulders, you did your best to hide it

- over the last week and a half he had came home to you with your face in your hands, crying like there was no tomorrow, more times than he felt comfortable

- you’d immediately sit up, wipe your face, and chuckle as you said it was just because you’d watched a sad movie or finished a sad book

- he could see right through you (i mean, he was trained to be an expert at analyzing situations and he wasn’t born last night)

- instead of asking you a multitude of questions, he’d just hug you and assure you that he was there to comfort you

- on the third instance of this, jason had concocted a plan to try and make you feel better

- he’d leave gorgeous flower arrangements in the vase on your desk, complete with a note card in his scraggly handwriting

- he’d began leaving messages in the margins of notebook paper strewn across your desk, saying things you’d only ever read in Jane Austen novels

- every night he’d hold you tighter than he usual does, allowing you to completely melt into the warmth of his strong and muscular embrace

- one night during dinner he’d finally muster up the courage to ask you what it was that had been bothering you

- slightly hesitant, you let the flood gates open and began rambling off all the thoughts you’d been holding in

- though he struggled with vulnerability, he knew he had to be strong for you. while powdering you with light kisses, running his calloused fingers through your hair, and holding your hand tightly, you eventually dozed off with your head resting against his broad shoulder

- he looked down at you with a lovesick look and vowed to do whatever he could to never have you go through struggles like this alone, ever

i love him so much AHH!! i hope you enjoyed <3 critiques and comments welcome!

[pers1st]

she's got a way (she got away)

inspired by chappel roan's the subway!

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

summary: after the World Cup, your mind is set on leaving Spain - Alexia doesn't expect you to leave her too

It was clear, from the moment the Euros ended for the Spanish national team, that this situation would, at one point, escalate. You had been sure of it, despite the fact that all throughout the tournament, you hadn't been able to focus on anything but your girlfriend's recovery. Her knee was in pain, and so was her heart, and you were in England, unable to help due to the strict rules Jorge had set up.

Along with Irene, Mapi and Jenni, you were one of the most experienced, as well as one of the most vocal players. Your manager was slowly losing the team - it was evident that no one would really listen to a thing he said anymore, and he needed you to keep them in check. At least that was your theory as to why he appeared in your room almost every night, asking you the most absurd questions, and calming his mind with the thought of you keeping his back.

You didn't, though. It was merely the worry clouding your head that had you unable to speak your critiques, as you had done before. Jorge didn't need to know the reason, though - you were quiet, that was all he needed for now.

Alexia welcomed you back to Barcelona with open arms, though she noticed the bags under your eyes and the residue of salt on your cheeks. It was hard to miss - the fact that you were completely and utterly done. You were done.

You wouldn't go back to the Spanish National team. Not like this, and not without Alexia.

Your girlfriend was your biggest rock, and despite the fact that she was undergoing her own struggle, or perhaps that was the exact reason why, the two of you leaned onto each other more than ever. Set under pressure by the RFEF, the only way for you to escape was to lean your head on your lovers shoulders and close your eyes. Alexia didn't need to hear. She knew what was going on, without you ever speaking it out loud, and just before the World Cup, she started fighting hard for the federation to make up for their mistakes, and finally give their players a bit of fucking attention.

Still, she had to beg you. Had to beg you to come back, promising she wouldn't leave your side, promising things would be different, better. And they were, for a little bit.

The moment you allowed yourself to believe that your voices had been heard was a fleeting one. The referee blew her whistle, the English players fell to the ground in disappointment, and Alexia sprinted towards you full charge.

A moment later, when you were lifted into the air, and touched in places that left your skin burning, it was gone again. That little faith, the tiny bit of hope. It was gone. And a part of you was, too.

You had your medal. You had your picture with the trophy, you had a week of alcohol.

But still, the World Cup was tainted, and the horrifying response by not only the Spanish federation but also the Spanish press, and people, they made everything else unimportant.

You had been holding off on extending your contract. You had told the club you weren't sure yet-

You had been sure. Before the World Cup, the whole discussions and meetings had been merely a strategy to have a little more compensation for the work you did - it had been your agent's idea, but you had agreed either way.

Now, you weren't sure.

Spain felt different, in a way. You didn't believe that the country wanted you anymore, partly because you had been very vocal about what had happened, partly because the RFEF had told you so. Despite Rubiales' resign, they wanted an apology, a public one, for the comments and statements you had published. Otherwise, they didn't want you anymore.

That fateful email slipped further down with every new email you received, and by the time you told Alexia about their threats, the transfer window was almost closed.

It was rainy, that night. It never really rained in Spain that often, especially not in September. Your girlfriend had hoped the two of you could sit on your balcony and enjoy a glass of wine, for once. But it rained and you sat on the couch and before Alexia could place her drink on the sofa, something within you broke.

You didn't want to leave - you wanted Spain, wanted Barcelona, wanted Alexia.

Tears fell from your eyes so quickly Alexia didn't know what to do, almost spilling her beverage all over the couch in order to get to you.

"Amor, what's wrong?", she asked, over and over again, until all she could do was wrap her arms around you and hold your shaking frame until you calmed down enough to say something. Anything. She really just wanted to hear your voice.

"I think I have to leave", you breathed, finally, just when Alexia had believed you to be asleep.

Silence remained in your shared apartment.

And it seemed even more present when your last things had been moved to Manchester, and you were gone for good.

Your voice still sounded through the hallways, usually as the of two of you cooked dinner, separated by the ocean and phones on the counter, loud speaker enabled. You had vowed to each other to speak regularly, FaceTime if possible, and make visits as often as possible.

Alexia couldn't get used to it, though. It was quiet.

However, the changing room was louder than ever. With every week that you played in the color blue, the girls had something new to talk about. Alexia couldn't participate, because as much as she wanted to, it only reminded her that another week without a phone call had passed. You had said you were tired, yesterday, and you had said so the day before as well.

Moving was big. Especially if it was to another country. Alexia believed that you were tired, she really did.

"She scored another, on Sunday. Did you see?", Mapi pointed around the room animatedly, laughing along as Pina enacted the way you had put your entire force behind the shot, almost falling over her own legs as Cata leapt to the side, pretending to miss a shot.

"It was so good! She is shining!"

Unsatisfied with the acting performance of her own team, Alexia decided she needed to see for herself. Barcelona was playing this Friday, and since your game was on a Sunday, she would have enough time to fly over to Manchester with Jana and watch you and Jill in person.

It was a surprise, and she could see in your eyes as you gazed through the family section, that you genuinely were surprised. Leia was standing next to you, arm across your shoulder, finding her own friends in the crowd shortly before warm up would begin.

You radiated, waving to Leia's parents, shortly before your eyes caught those of your lover. Though you hadn't seen them in a while, you recognized them instantly, and your smile dropped for a split second, before it grew even wider. Waving your hands through the air, the stadium seemed smaller, all of a sudden. Alexia felt a rush of warmth throughout her body. Then, you turned around, focussing back on the task ahead, the way you always could.

Alexia could see it, then. You were happier than you had been for a while. She knew the weight that had pulled you down over the past year, and despite the fact that she was genuinely relieved to see you get on so well, it also inflicted a pang of something else.

Was it jealousy? Was it fear?

Jealousy that Manchester gave you something Alexia never could?

Fear that you would come to the same conclusion?

Alexia couldn't tell, but she could tell, as the stadium roared with each of the goals you scored, that you were happy. Jumping into the air to celebrate a goal you merely would've smiled for in Barcelona, all of your teammates crowding you happily, tapping your head and laughing along as you jogged back into position - you were different.

You had changed, silently, right in front of Alexia's eyes. She knew it was for the better.

A brief talk after the game followed, an excited kiss over the barrier, an apology as you rushed to the changing room to get changed, promising to meet her in the lounge after.

Then came the reassurance.

No, it's fine, I don't have to go for drinks with the others.

No, really, I want to have a nice evening with you before you have to leave again.

Of course I want to know how things are in Spain.

The word left your lips as though it sliced your tongue in the process, and despite the fact that you watched Alexia's brow furrow for the split of a second, the both of you never mentioned it again. The conversation dulled out, and despite the fact that Alexia was going to meet Jana at the airport hours later, she slowly began gathering her things.

You didn't stop her.

You brought her to the airport, and she promised Jana was on her way already. You wouldn't need to wait with her.

The previous goodbye had been different. There had been tears cascading down the both of your faces, whereas this time, there was merely a little glimmer of wet in Alexia's lashes.

There had been promises and plans, when you had left Barcelona. Plans to visit, promises to call, to make this work.

Now, you didn't even know when you would come back to Spain. If you would come back to Spain.

Your Catalan was rusty already, a hint of an accent coming through, that shocked Alexia at first.

She knew it was for the better, though. You weren't sad to watch Alexia leave, and Alexia would learn to live with that. It took two hours until Jana came. By the time the two walked towards their gate, Alexia's tears had dried. By the time the plane touched down in Barcelona, your lover had made up her mind to call you later. By the time she got to training later, she could only answer Mapi's question -

How is she doing?

With a wet "She got away."

Mapi didn't even question her best friend's answer, didn't furrow her brows at the prospect of her two best friends' breaking up, she merely offered a bitter smile.

Good for her, Mapi thought, too scared to voice her words out loud for the fear of hurting Alexia. Unbeknownst to her, your ex girlfriend thought the same exact thing.