#fuck that Anon

[when-life-gives-you-lemons-if]

Jesus Christ that anon.

You’re literally the sweetest IF authors I follow.

Such entitlement from that anon.

Your stories a breathe of fresh air tbh, the best slice of life has to offer. I tend to gravitate towards dark genres when it comes to my reading but I adore the worlds you created.

#fuck that anon.

💕

[the-delightful-temptation]

//Thank you all for the messages. Seeing them and seeing people comment on the actions of Val makes me forget about the anons. You are all sweet.

[askthe-littlepoet]

I will assist in the murder(zip got hate)

yeah ik somone just sent ME some; too much of a coward to send it off of anon too

[the-catboy-minyan]

"Israel must secure the existence of their people and a future for Jewish children" < this is an adaption of the 'Fourteen Words' an American white supremacist slogan written by an antisemitic murderer

yeah thank you, I already deleted the original ask.

[mrsaltieri-real]

Not people getting pressed over a PERSONAL ranking list. Personal ranking is literally based on an individuals taste and bias.

Just cause it’s different doesn’t make it bad anon. Grow up

(Also Mickey for the win, my absolute FAV xx)

Oh man I know! Absolutely fucking ridiculous but we ball. The fact I hate Jill and love Mickey is something I’ve grown used to getting hate for over the years, especially when tiktok came out but it never gets less annoying.

Thank you Anon, you’re very sweet!!! Also, you’ve got TASTE!

[onsomenewsht]

so fucking good, once again

chasing a ghost

exactly what you run from, you end up chasing. (angst -> happy ending)

tw- mentions internalised homophobia. it's not intense, but the story is based around it. it has a happy ending though, of course!

Everyone always says your first love sticks with you throughout your whole life. And for you, those words were a haunting truth you could never shake.

No matter how far you went, no matter how many years passed. It still rung true. Your worst fear was that it always would.

The last ten years of your life had been all over the place– literally. After the breakup, you took a gap year, because the pain after it was that intense you felt you had no other option. So, you decided to travel the world with nothing but the bag on your back, looking for an answer to your life that made such a pain worth it– not knowing the thing you were chasing was the exact thing you were running from.

You started in Spain, in Barce- in the city where you fell in love. Though, you haven't returned since you left. 

University was fun, you enjoyed it more than you thought you would. Even more so when you met the love of y- your first love. She was shy, at first. But you caught glimpses of her when she was with her friends in the study hall, when she’d come out of her shell and say something that would have them all laughing until they were shushed. When she would smile so brightly you swore the lights dimmed and a spotlight shone on her, or when she’d always wait behind for the last person in the group to tidy their stuff as the others raced off to wherever they were going next. 

You studied her from afar for weeks, spending more time doing that than studying your actual course, but it paid off when you accidentally, not-so-accidentally, bumped into her one time as she rushed from one lecture hall to the other, and the… football under her arm went tumbling down the hallway. 

A football? You remembered thinking then. Why would someone bring a football to their lecture?

“A football?” You scrunched your nose as you turned to watch the neon orange thing roll out of sight.

“Oh, s-sí. I know it is weird.” She chuckled nervously, her hand rubbing the back of her neck as her eyes darted all over your face, the football the last thing on her mind. “I have training after my next lecture. For football.”

“Well, I think you’re going to be late to your next lecture if you want to get your ball back.” You told her in amusement, hearing the commotion of a group of boys jeering over the sight of such a miraculous object appearing in front of them. 

Alexia’s eyes went wide, jumping off her train of thought and back down onto solid ground, where the aforementioned group of people, that resembled entertained cavemen watching a fire or gorillas cheering at their next meal, still had her beloved ball.

“No! I need that back!” She ran ahead, before halting a moment later when she heard your laugh behind her. So she turned back around, jogged over to you, stumbling over the cartoon love hearts swirling around her mind as she tried to find the words to say, then giggled sheepishly at herself. “Sorry for running into you. I will hopefully see you around.”

“See you around.” You replied, though she was already chasing after her prized possession before you got a chance to say it. The feeling you got after hearing her say ‘hopefully’ was a little embarrassing, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

And fortunately for you, you did see her around, quite often actually to the point where you weren’t sure if it was actually a coincidence or not. At one point, it was like the two of you unknowingly formed a routine; you would finish your first lecture at 11:30am, walk as fast as you could over to the other building where your 12pm lecture was and wait for her to arrive for her 11:45 lecture. She would arrive five minutes before she had to go in, and you’d spend that time talking together, laughing, teasing, checking in with each other, until she had to leave. Even still, she would wait until the last second before she’d be classed as late to go in, just so she could talk to you. 

Then, it progressed to meeting her for study sessions together in the library. One day, your friends on your course were somehow all off sick, and her friends were apparently not important to her when she knew you would be alone. So, without too much of a fuss, she quietly and nervously invited you to study with her, where you both spent the whole time trying to study but were actually just too excited about being together one-on-one with nobody else around to get anything done. No chaos of the corridor, no boys trying to take her football, no friends to tease you. The whole time, however, that damn football was there with you, positioned at her feet under the table as she messed with it throughout the duration of the session. 

It was there that you realised studying and education wasn’t her best skill; she was smart, very smart, her mind just seemed a million miles away everytime. All too often you’d have to tell her to concentrate when she had spent too long looking out the window at the football pitch, or you’d quietly scold her for trying to do kick-ups in the library or whenever she tried to nutmeg you when you just wanted to get through the week’s reading assignment. She never cared for grades or essays or quizzes, all she wanted was to play football.

That meant it wasn’t such a surprise to you when, on a random day after the Christmas break, she rushed in to meet you at your infamous spot outside what should have been her 11:45 lecture and, when you told her off for how she was about to be late, she smiled a smug grin and shrugged you off. Then she told you she had dropped out of University like it was nothing, before spinning you around and demanding she walked you to your lecture. She didn’t give you time to scold her like you often did, because she tugged you out of the way of people in the corridor outside the door to your lecture and kissed you, for the first time, out of nowhere, only for her to pull away and kiss your cheek in goodbye as she gently ushered you towards the door. 

You had to thank whatever god was up there that that particular lecture wasn’t too important because you don’t remember a thing about it. All you could think about throughout was the way she had pulled you in, wrapped her arms around your waist, and leaned down to kiss you with such tenderness yet such confidence that you weren’t sure you could ever be the same person again afterwards. For something so small, you felt it changed you, and though it might have been just a kiss, it opened a door for you to a version of yourself you didn’t know existed. 

After that day, you walked around with your head held high, sometimes uncertain if you were walking or skipping since you felt that much joy. You couldn’t view the world around you as ordinary anymore, everything around you seemed more vivid, the smaller things felt more significant and the bigger things less important. That kiss was a spark that ignited something… profound; changing not just your relationship with her, but who you were as a person.

You were on cloud nine with her, the kind of happiness that felt never-ending and all-consuming. That reassured you, especially in moments where you two bickered or felt a little distant as she travelled for football. You were almost certain it’d go on forever.

Every glance, every touch, every word between you, they were all things you cherished. The relationship was something sacred, just for the two of you, and you could have sworn it made your heart soar far from your chest. More often than not, you felt invincible in her company. For the first time in your life, love wasn’t a distant daydream or a wish for the future, it was something real, something that was undeniably yours that no one could take from you. No one but yourself.

Your relationship with her grew and grew, until a year of stolen kisses in the private of your rooms, a year of pinkies linked under dinner tables whilst out with your friends, a year of being just friends to everyone else but the loves of your lives to each other, a year of complete and unconditional love passed without you realising. 

“Ale, where the hell are you taking me?” You giggled, two cold hands covering your eyes as you were led somewhere by your silent girlfriend. Not that you could see, there was a huge grin on her face as she guided you to a place she had been desperate to take you ever since she met you.

“You will find out. Two more seconds, then you see.” It was all going smoothly until she led you a bit too far and you walked head first into… a gate? “Oops, lo siento, mi amor. I did not mean to, I couldn’t see how close we were, your head was in my way.”

“My head was in your way? You i- you’re the one covering my eyes! Pendeja.” You muttered, but then she lifted her hands off your face and you were met with… a football pitch. “Are you kidding me?”

“Happy one year anniversary.” Alexia smiled brightly, not at all phased by the unimpressed look on your face. “You are going to play football with me.”

“Am I really.” You scoffed, taking in the sight of the miserably grey sky and the aftermath of the morning’s rain in the form of a repulsively muddy field.

“You will. What’s that saying? Something… something about, ah, el sentido del humor?” She mumbled, waving one of her hands in the air like the wind would blow the words to her mind as she opened the gate with the other.

“You want me to humour you?” You turned back to her, desperately suppressing a smile at the way her eyes widened and she clapped her hands when you gave her the right turn of phrase.

“Eso mismo! It will be fun, come on.” 

“It’s not even our one year yet, you’re early.” You crossed your arms over your chest in one last show of defiance, when as a matter of fact, you were convinced the minute you saw the excitement on her face.

“I know but it is a year since I kissed you and that’s what started everything.” The brunette girl shrugged, tucking her hands in the pockets of her joggers.

“I think what started everything was me bumping into you when you were running.” Her jaw dropped in a very comedic way then.

“So you did do it on purpose! I knew it!” She exclaimed, walking closer and jabbing an accusing finger into your chest. You stepped backwards and laughed as she shuffled yet closer, moving into your space and pulling you into her for a hug. It was only brief and when she leaned back, her arms still around you, she shook her head in disbelief at your past antics, before softening. “Well, I did think about that date too, but I had a game that day and you had an important presentation so… I decided to do it today.”

You smiled in spite of yourself and left a kiss on her chin.

“And you thought bringing me to play football on a muddy field in the middle of winter was a good idea?” She smirked and nodded, clearly confident in her abilities to convince you.

“I have always wanted you to play it with me but you always say no. But I think, since I was the one that kissed you in the beginning, you should do this for me.” You rolled your eyes and she grinned at you as you did so, her thumbs drawing circles where they’d slipped under your jumper on your hips. “I bought you boots and everything! Also a shirt with your name on it but my number, but it is too cold for that so I left it at home. And, if you do this with me, we can have a shower together after and I wash your hair and give you a massage.”

“I was going to agree anyway but sure, I’ll take that deal.” You told her a moment later after some faux consideration, to which she clicked her tongue in response and lifted you up over her shoulder. “Oh, well, what a lovely view I have here of your- ow!”

But the magic wore off, and the whispers started.

Not from anyone else, from yourself. At first, you ignored them, turning your nose up at them and shrugging them off, thinking they were stupid because of how right it felt to be in her arms. But they were insistent, determined to make an imprint on you and the love you wanted to give. Eventually they did. And the secrecy of your relationship began to feel like a double-edged sword that cut deeper with every passing day. You needed help, needed someone to stop the barrage of insecurities that you never wanted to face, never imagined you’d have to. But it felt like a life and death matter, keeping it a secret. You believed you had no other choice. And voicing these anxieties to her, the very subject of the situation, wasn’t even an option in your mind.

You told yourself it was safer to keep it a secret, to make sure your love was safe from the cruelty of the world and its society, yet with each lie you told and each delusion you convinced yourself of, a piece of your identity was chipped away. She had a front-row seat to every part of you that slipped out of her grasp.

At some point, you even stopped recognising the person you saw in the mirror. What was once a reflection of somebody in love, brimming with hope and excitement for not only the future but for every moment you spent in the present with your girlfriend, soon turned into someone cautious, afraid, who constantly looked over their shoulder. The fear consumed you until it was hard to breathe. And in turn, you found yourself pulling away from others because you couldn’t bear lying to them any longer, whilst also not possessing the strength to tell them the truth. 

If anyone asked that past version of you why you did it, you’d tell them it was to protect both her and yourself. In reality, you knew that was such a pathetic lie. It couldn't even be called an excuse. 

Something that once brought you more fulfillment and happiness than anything else in your life soon felt like a cinder brick chained to your leg, like stones and gravel in your pockets, dragging you down until you were drowning from the expectations you thought were put on you by the world, when they really just your own.

Alexi- she grew antsy and uneasy. You begged to keep it under wraps for just a few more weeks. 

She wanted to tell people; she might have been shy at first glance, but she was the kind of person whose love demanded to be seen, she didn’t survive by keeping it contained to the shadows. Every time she looked at you, her feelings for you were written all over her face – the joy, the pride, the desperation to share her love for you with everyone that mattered. To her, you were something worth sharing with the world. She dreamed of the day she could introduce who you really were to her with her family, her friends, with anyone that would listen.

Initially, she understood why you were hesitant. Like you’d always told her, she was smart. She knew why you were reluctant to tell people, she just had no idea how deep that ‘reluctance’ ran. One of your favourite traits of hers ended up being the beginning of the end; she was exceptionally good at reading people and figuring out what was happening before it had even happened. She saw the way you shrank into yourself when people looked your way, how you would purposely lower your voice when talking about the pair of you. She tried to be patient, but it wasn’t easy. 

Each time she caught herself smiling at you in public, the same smile that made you blush because you could see and feel her love for you, she knew she had to suppress it for your sake. That caused an ache to grow in her chest, the fact she had to dim her own light to quell your worries. Because it wasn’t just the secrecy that hurt, it was the feeling that she wasn’t allowed to love you as wholeheartedly as she wanted to.

Weeks turned into months and she tried to give you your space to work it through, but soon enough she felt like she was in a relationship with a ghost. A shell of a person. And in all honesty, to her, it felt like rejection, even though she knew that wasn’t your intention. However, her assurance in that began to falter. She began to wonder if her love wasn’t enough, if she wasn’t enough. She prided herself on being someone that was confident and sure, but the longer she spent feeling like a bird in a cage, she found herself questioning everything.

Why couldn’t you see what she saw? That your love was worth the risk?

There were more nights than she could count where she spent hours laying awake, the darkness doing little to calm her racing mind. Most of the time, you were sleeping beside her, either cuddled to her side or facing away from her. The times you chose to snuggle up to her were the worst nights, where she didn’t get an ounce of sleep as it was like she could almost feel the fear radiating off of you. It reached a point where she felt trapped between wanting to honour your insecurities and needing to honour her own heart. The longer you rejected the idea of telling people, the more she felt like a secret, something to be hidden rather than openly cherished. 

Though she never wanted to make you feel guilty, there was a loneliness that settled inside of her, and there was a growing distance she felt from you that she had no idea how to bridge without it inevitably ending in one thing.

She never stopped loving you for a second, how could she? But the weight of carrying that love alone eventually became unbearable. As much as she tried to resist that, it was there anyway. It soon led to her feeling like she was losing the person she wanted to be, someone that wanted their love to be visible, that wanted to celebrate it with the people she valued most in her life. So she made a choice.

After that, you couldn’t stay in Barcelona. You couldn't stomach the place any longer when every street corner and every park and every restaurant solely served as a reminder of the good memories that were a thing of the past. Even saying the name of the city sent your head and your heart to a dark place. So did saying her name. 

Back then, you couldn’t figure out who you were; torn between the person you wanted to be and the person you thought you had to be. So you went travelling, to immerse yourself in any and all cultures, to meet new people, to try new things, in the hopes of finding yourself again.

Except, every single word that was exchanged in that final conversation still echoed in your mind no matter where you went.

You sat in cafes halfway across the world and saw her in the steam from your coffee that just so happened to be the same one she used to have every morning. You flew over countless countries and saw her in every stadium you passed by. You saw her in every blade of grass, in every speck of sand, in every sunrise and sunset, before you had to remind yourself that she wasn’t yours to think about anymore.

It had been years, almost a decade, since your first kiss with her, and you could still vividly remember how it played out, how the warmth and the softness of her lips caught you off guard, how she smirked at you after kissing your cheek in goodbye before sending you into your lecture. That spontaneous moment – well, spontaneous for you, for her it had been precariously planned – was some kind of cruel foreshadow that haunted you; it had happened in public, the pair of you could have been open from the very start, the irony of it had never been lost on you. Perhaps the warning signs might have been there from the start. 

“Our first kiss was in public, it was in front of so many people, but now I can’t even smile at you too much when we’re out together.”

“Don’t say that. You’re the one that initiated our first kiss in public, I didn’t.”

“So, what, you would change how it happened?”

“M… maybe, yeah.”

You knew, as soon as you said that last thing, the relationship was over. To this day you still don’t know why you said it, you wouldn’t change a thing about the relationship or her as a person. It was just another example of you being too terrified to be honest with who you were. 

By the time you accepted that it was okay to be who you were, there was only one person you wanted. But by then, that ship had long sailed. You didn’t want anyone, you wanted her. Forcing yourself to believe otherwise felt like carving out a part of your heart. It was almost as hard as having to hear her break up with you over a fear you didn’t even know you had until she ran into your life. As a result, she was long gone, and you didn’t even blame her.

Eventually, you managed to persuade yourself you didn’t want her. It was better that way. And though you weren’t quite whole, you did find yourself through travelling. It just… you still felt like something was missing.

—

Dropping out of University wasn’t ideal, but like most other people that did the same thing, you saw too much beauty in the world on your gap year to be restrained to a 9-5 for the rest of your life. You were fortunate enough to find a company that allowed you to pick up odd jobs here and there of your choosing, in any country of your choosing. It was a dream, you felt free when you weren't ruminating on the events that led you to this point.

Each city you visited became a second home for however long you spent there, though every fleeting connection you made with their locals was a futile attempt to paint over the memories from your past. Nothing could fill the void left behind, but still, you jumped from country to country, telling yourself that planes and hotels and hole-in-the-wall bars were the places you were supposed to be. 

Finding yourself walking home from the closest corner shop to your hotel at the dead of night past one of Sydney’s most well-known clubs, only to stumble across her standing outside its entrance, was the most suffocated and trapped you had felt since the days after you saw her last– nine years ago.

You stopped in your tracks some distance away from her, your eyes locking with hers as she froze, body going rigid at the sight of you. Nothing could have prepared you to see her that night, you really weren’t ready to see her again at all especially with zero warning. Sure, you dreamt of seeing her again, of being back in each other’s lives like no time had passed at all, but actually seeing her was a whole different story. 

You didn’t know what to do.

“I never thought I would see you again.” Alexia, with pink hair and an unnecessarily large gold medal around her neck, stated first. “Qué coño haces aquí?”

The viciousness of her voice caught you off-guard, because throughout your whole relationship including the ending argument, she had never once sounded like that. Though, nine years had passed, maybe she had changed. For the worst.

So, you walked right past her, not in the mood to entertain a fight with an ex. 

“I was talking to you.” She called after you, sounding somewhat shocked you had the audacity to walk past her like she was nothing more than a stranger. But, in this state, she was. It seemed the years had hardened her into someone that was just a stranger. 

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you.” You fired back as you continued to walk, and you thought that was that. But then you heard the breaking of glass as Alexia dropped her bottle of beer into the nearest bin and followed you.

“You know, it is the least I deserve after how you treated me back then.” She knew exactly the right thing to say to get you to react.

“If you had half a brain and any sense of sympathy, you would know I didn’t do any of it to hurt you.” You fought back, turning to face her and wanting nothing more than to slap the triumphant smirk off of her face. 

“Now that is a lie. How would that make it okay? That the person I love didn’t love me enough to let me tell my family at least?” 

Almost a decade’s worth of anger was being unleashed on you and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You knew you deserved it, but were too riled up in the moment to sit there and take it. So you retaliated, because the woman in front of you was being selfish and too big-headed to see why you did it, and if she still didn’t understand after nine years, it was her own fault.

“Of course I loved you enough, I loved you more than I could ever say. Have you, on the off chance, ever heard of something called anxiety? Ever heard of a thing called fear, and depression, or even just mental health overall?”

When Alexia won her first Champion’s League, you purposely went out of your way to ignore the news, because it seemed after that title her name was never out of it. So, even though her face was all over the newspapers during the summer you spent in London, detailing the severity of her injury and what that meant for Spain’s chances, you didn’t know a thing about it. 

You matched her immaturity, completely unaware of the fact she had just spent the best part of a year out of playing action, during which she had so desperately wished she had you by her side to help her through one of the worst moments of her life. In the first couple months, she had been forced to see a therapist, she had been diagnosed with depression, and what she learnt in those sessions was that all the mental pain she felt then came circling right back to you.

Alexia had thrown herself into football after breaking up with you, seeking refuge in the one thing that had never let her down all her life. But then she tore her ACL, and it had let her down, and suddenly the emptiness of her bed and her chest was the only thing on her mind. There were days where she never left the house, where she didn’t do her stretches, didn’t get up from the sofa to keep her leg moving. There were days where all she thought about was you, and how different things might have been if the two of you weren’t so young back then.

Maybe if she was more patient, you two would have made it, and her gruelling rehab wouldn’t have been so challenging. But she was on her own, she had no one to wake up for in the morning, no shoulder to cry on, no one to reassure her in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep that she’d get through this. She just had to get on with it. 

So to see you stood in front of her only mere months after she'd made her return, despite winning the biggest title of her career, it was like she’d finally woken up from the numb headspace she’d been in since the pop in her knee the summer before. Only, the words that came out of her mouth weren’t her true feelings. She had no idea where they were coming from, but they were out before she could stop them. And then it was too late to go back on her words, because by the time she regretted them, you hit back with accusations that stoked the fire that had been extinguished by her progress in therapy. She reverted back to how she felt before her injury, when she still loathed you with every fibre of being, and let out every ounce of pain and fury she had carried with her for years.

However, after you said that, the Barcelona captain came up empty for a reply.

“Times have changed. Things were different then.” You continued on, and it was obvious that too long had passed in the way you couldn't read her face anymore. You completely missed the sorrow and regret on her face, and instead took it for disdain.

“I kno-”

“You don't know a thing.” You laughed maliciously. “You have no idea how I felt or what was going on in my mind. All you did was blame me and run away.”

Just as Alexia had gone to apologise and go back on everything she said, you took things a step further. You were disappointed in yourself for it, but you felt there was no other option but to meet her anger and one-up her, to fight for the last laugh. It was so wrong to address each other in such ways, you both recognised that. Not that it stopped either of you.

“I did not run away, you did. You haven't come home since we broke up and I think that says it all, no?”

“There is no home for me in Barcelona anymore.” Alexia physically recoiled at your statement, and you saw it. You saw the guilt slip away from her eyes and the anger return to them. But it was too late to do anything.

“Well, it looks like it was worth it for the both of us, the breakup. You got to travel and I have the best medal I could get around my neck.” 

Your eyes flicked down to the medal and you read the words on it – Women’s World Cup. It was her biggest dream, you remembered countless times she’d be with you, her eyes with that far away look she often got and a dreamy smile on her face as she thought of her future and all she knew she could achieve, as long as the world and the sport allowed her.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked her one night as you wandered into your bedroom to see her lay in  bed, hands rested under her head as she stared at the ceiling. 

“Football.” She murmured, eyes unmoving, like her entire future was projected on the ceiling in some kind of montage, flickers of trophies and awards passing on by.

“How romantic.” You scoffed, getting into bed beside her and immediately moving to rest your head on her chest with one leg swung across her thighs. “What about football?”

“I am just… excited. There is so much to look forward to.” She whispered in awe, a smile on her face so intense it creased into the corners of her eyes. The sight of it had you smiling too.

“There is.” You sighed contently, before lifting your head up to look at her, and she looked down. “You’ll do such amazing things, Ale. I know you will.”

Somehow, her face softened, and she let out a disbelieving breath as she turned her gaze back to the damn ceiling.

“I hope so.” The midfielder said quietly, as if it was a jinx to speak any louder.

“You will. But you can’t forget me along the way. I want all your medals hung up in our house when we’re older.” Alexia chuckled gently at that, and she leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“You can have all my medals, you will be right there with me. Me, you, our families. Maybe a family of our own.”

The memory seemed to jump to your minds at the same time, judging by how you met each other’s eyes a moment after you initially looked at the now taunting object that glimmered under the street lamps and city lights around. Her past promise, which had seemed so… eternal and meaningful in that moment, was hardly recognisable. The eyes you stared at weren’t the same either. They were cold and antagonistic, far from the warmth that was once there, the warmth that drew you in in the first place.

It was that revelation that allowed you to continue this animosity.

“Oh yeah? Good for you. I’m sure you and your gold medal will make great kids together.”

“Fuck you. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” 

Alexia knew she’d won with that one; she turned around with a shake of her head and headed back to the club whilst you were rooted to the spot, wondering how everything could go so wrong in a matter of minutes. 

You don’t know who you are either. 

—

That day, in Australia, it wrecked you. Wholly and completely.

It was the nail in the coffin that was your sense of self, because if the one person that never left your thoughts for even a day thought of you like that, then you were lost. Truly lost. 

For nine years, whether you knew it or not, you’d been waiting every day to turn a corner and see her standing there. You imagined walking up to her, tears in your eyes and a smile on your face, an expression she reflected when she opened her arms for you to step into. You’d had her hugs for a year, you’d memorised them well, nine years couldn’t erase that and neither could a lifetime. You would always remember the strength she hugged you with and how secure they made you feel in everything. In yourself, in your life, in your love. But to have that same person tell you they don’t recognise you was an unfathomable heartbreak.

No matter where you went in the time after that, the pain never went away. Ever since you realised you’d never be who you was when you were with Alexia, no matter how many places you travelled or how many people you met, how many jobs you did or how many degrees you could get, you wouldn’t feel as settled and happy without her. And, in fact, with time, the ache in your heart only grew. It ached and groaned in your hollow chest as you dragged it around the world when it called for one place and one place only. Or rather, one person.

But said person had made their dislike clear to you. So that option was more unlikely than it’d ever been before. 

Not impossible, however. 

Because Alexia couldn’t hate herself more for saying so many lies. For being so disgraceful in how she presented herself to someone she still thought so highly of. Most importantly, for making that person think otherwise about her opinion of them.

In the years after she saw you last, when she walked out of your apartment to the sound of your cries behind her, she’d subconsciously searched for you in every person she met. Any habit they had, any slight familiarity in appearance even if it was one freckle in the same place, any similar interests. It was wrong and she knew it was, when she looked back. All the people she hurt, the people who thought they had a chance with her against the idolised version of her first love in her mind, they didn’t deserve her. And after Sydney, she didn’t deserve you either.

When she said those vile things to you, she hoped she would feel some kind of… closure from it. Some kind of catharsis in the fact she could finally close the chapter of her life that had you on her mind all the time. Instead there was just a deep and gnawing disappointment that followed her everywhere she went. From her bed, to training, to her mother’s house – especially her mother’s house, for the wise woman always loved to remind her of what she’d lost – and even to her games as she lined up in the tunnel beforehand.

Her disappointment towards you had dissolved years ago, this disappointment was entirely aimed at herself. She hated how she had let her anger, that she didn’t even feel anymore, overshadow the love that had once defined the both of you. It still did, just in a different and entirely soul-crushing way. The love clung to her heart like a wound that refused to heal, even after all these years.

Ever since she made the hardest decision she had ever had to make, cutting you out of her life, she had spent so much time moving forwards, pushing herself to be stronger, to achieve more, hoping it would erase the memory of you and numb the pain she felt. That failed, however. The only thing she failed at. Seeing you again had broken the dam that stored all her feelings for you and let them flood her mind again. She felt more broken after that confrontation than she had in a long time.

Alexia hadn’t blamed you for some time, and she wasn’t sure why, the second you were in front of her, that she acted like she did. Nobody compared to you and nobody ever would. The fact she made such a horrible comment, one her aggravated self knew would hurt you, did irrevocable things to her view of herself. She never thought she could stoop so low, but she did. She didn’t know how to come back from it.

The version of you she saw that day, the version of you she knew didn’t exist and was only a retaliation to her own hostility, was not the version that stuck in her head the months after that. It was the person she fell in love with when she was only twenty. And it was that version she got when she was getting led out of a bar in Paris, a year after the World Cup, this time with no medal to her name, just a missed penalty.

It was the exact same setup a year onwards, but things were so much different. For starters, you weren’t in Paris for work, you were on a break, and of course the one city in the world you ran to for respite was the same one she was in. However, the sight of two members of security walking out of a bar behind the star you knew Alexia as now was enough concern in itself for you to abandon your friends, who had no idea who the blonde was both as a celebrity and a person of the past to you. Your nerves were fried and you were reluctant to speak to her again, but as soon as you got within two feet of her, you grimaced at how the smell of alcohol radiated off her and knew instantly it was the right thing to do.

“I’ll take her, sorry for… whatever she’s done.” You said to the workers, who rolled their eyes and left you with the drunken mess she was.

“No, you don’t have to take me. You d-don’t deserve to. N-not me.” 

Her words were slurred and there was an overwhelming amount of emotion in her voice. The state of her combined with those two things was enough to convince you this time around with her would be different. Different in what way, you weren’t sure. But she could hardly walk on her own, you couldn’t leave anyone in this way, nevermind someone like her who… still meant so much to you.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to where you’re staying, make sure you get there safe.” You had to be sensible then, and focusing on the softness of her skin when you lifted her arm up around your shoulders and held onto her hand was not sensible. “Do you know your hotel?”

She rattled off some more drunk nonsense until you managed to pick out the name of a hotel in her words as you wrapped your arm around her waist to steady her. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far from where you were. And despite her current state, she was unnervingly silent on the walk there. It wasn’t until you made it to the hotel lobby you chanced a look at her and saw a steady stream of tears down her face. 

When you saw her like that then, it didn’t matter how many years had passed. It upset you to see her cry then as much as it did when you used to be the one she went to in these cases. Yet, in this scenario, you weren’t that person and you didn’t know how to deal with that.

“Hey, do you have your card on you, Ale?” The nickname slipped out of you, and it was a bad move, judging by the cries that came out of her afterwards. “Okay, alright.”

Since you couldn’t get much out of her, you dragged her over to the reception desk, and it took little convincing for them to hand over a spare keycard considering the sobbing mess that Alexia was.

The whole walk to the elevator, you felt helpless as her shoulders shook, torn between wanting to say something and thinking it was best to stay quiet for the time being since you knew you were probably part of the reason she was like she was. The ride up to her floor was even worse; all you could do was stand there, arm around her and hand in hand, listening to the pain pouring out of her. It sent you spiralling, almost, thinking of the years apart where she’d been like this with no one to help her like you were now.

All you wanted to do was wipe away her tears, to embrace her, to tell her everything was okay. But that was entirely unrealistic, because you had no idea where you stood with her and telling someone in her state that everything was okay was entirely meaningless. Seeing her so vulnerable and so wrecked was a reminder of exactly how much she meant to you. 

So, it was in that elevator, you made a split-second decision; from that moment on, you were going to do anything to fix this ridge between you. You had her a year ago but royally screwed up your chance. You had her ten years ago and screwed up that chance too. You weren’t about to let history repeat itself for the third time.

“Here we go, you sit down here, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.” You carefully urged her to sit on the armchair in her room, and she did, but only for about a second. When she saw you walk away from her, she shot up out of her chair, mumbling some rushed Spanish you couldn’t quite make out as she tried to follow wherever you were going. “I’m just getting you some water from the fridge.”

“Don’t go.” She sighed heavily, her eyelids drooping slightly from the alcohol in her system mixed with the overload of emotions from the day she’d had. She sounded wrecked when she spoke, and she looked at you with a desperation that made your heart stop. “Please don’t go. Not… not again.”

You nodded reassuringly, heading back over to her and tentatively taking hold of one of her hands. She immediately brought it up to her lips and kissed your knuckles, some more tears making their way out.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not right now.” You told her quietly, watching as she closed her eyes, maybe in relief, before she slumped back down into the chair. Her head fell back and you heard some more cries from her, but she seemed to be making as much an effort as she could to stifle them. That was perhaps more heartbreaking than the sound of her sobs. “Here you go. Drink some water.”

With shaking hands, she managed to get the bottle open after a few tries, and you sat on the edge of the bed across from her. Some minutes passed by as you gazed at her and she calmed down, and weirdly, it didn’t feel uncomfortable or charged with vitriol like it did last time. Things seemed to be… in the past. Of course, all the emotions and feelings were still there, both of you could sense the elephant in the room and you didn’t dance around it for too long before one of you spoke.

“How… how did we end up like this.” Alexia mumbled. You didn’t have an answer for her. There was too much to say but it didn’t feel like anything could cover it.

“I don’t know.” You whispered back. The blonde tore her eyes away from the label of the water bottle that she messed with and met your gaze. The concerned look on your face made her smile, just for a second. “I really don’t know.”

“I want you to know that I am sorry. For my part in everything.” She rushed out like she was afraid of your reaction, her attention back on the water bottle she’d gotten through half of already.

The apology caught you by surprise. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry too.” You replied some time after. 

It also caught Alexia by surprise as well, if the way her head snapped up at you and her eyebrows raised and her eyes widened was anything to go by. You smiled shyly at her, only for the hopeful glint in her eyes to cause your breath to hitch in your throat. It was the first time in… well, the first time ever, that you felt this rift could be fixed. She seemed to want the same thing, and you hoped to god that the alcohol in her system wasn’t affecting her clarity.

“Why did you come here? At the bar, why did you help me?” She wondered, her eyebrows pinched together then, seemingly confused.

“Because no matter what’s happened between us, I couldn’t leave you like that. You seemed like you needed help.” You answered initially, before pausing for a second. Alexia nodded for you to continue. “What happened today, Ale? For you to get like this?”

The midfielder huffed, fidgeting in her seat and blinking away yet more tears that tried to fight their way out.

“I… there is a lot on my mind. Has been for a while. And my team, Spain, we were playing an important game today. For an Olympic medal. I…” She frowned, turning her head so that you couldn’t see her face. She seemed ashamed of herself when she spoke again. “I missed a penalty that would have made us level, it would have given us a chance and I… I missed it.”

The bottle dropped to the floor as she covered her face with her hands, her chest heaving as she leaned forwards to rest her elbows on her knees, shoulders shaking again like they did earlier. The sobs leaving her, much like before, were difficult to hear because they sounded like they’d been repressed for far longer than a few hours. Before you could react, though, she was talking again.

“I have missed so many big chances. I missed today. I missed last year with you. I messed up my knee twice. I messed up with you when I broke up with you. I can’t… do anything right.”

As soon as she finished, you were up from your seat and heading over to kneel in front of her. You gently pulled her hands from her face and wrapped your arms around her, encouraging her to do the same as she leaned her forehead against your shoulder. And for a while, the two of you stayed like that. Alexia cried and cried until she exhausted herself, you weren’t sure how long she went on, but you weren’t going to stop her at any point. She needed that more than anything else.

Until she pulled back suddenly and put her hands on your cheeks, cradling them tenderly and stroking her thumbs across your cheekbones. You weren’t expecting it, but… you didn’t stop it either. Even when she leaned down and pressed her forehead against yours.

“So much time has gone by. I haven’t forgotten you, cariño, I told you I never would.” She said, her voice hoarse and hardly there. “I never forgot you, never will.”

You wanted to tell her how you felt, wanted to tell her that hearing her say that was the best thing you’d heard in ten years, wanted to tell her you still loved her. But the time wasn’t right.

“Thank you.” You decided to say, and you saw how her face fell, before she quickly disguised her disappointment and gave a tight-lipped smile instead. “You’re exhausted, Ale. You should go to bed, get some rest. Sleep this off.”

“What will you do?” The fear and the anxiety in her tone then, you knew all too well. It was exactly what you felt back then and the resemblance gave you goosebumps. How things had changed.

“I’ll stay for a little while. As long as you get in bed and try to rest.” 

Thankfully, she did as you said, and no more than ten minutes later, the blonde was under the covers with only the small bedside lamp on so that you could see. She lay on her stomach facing away from where you sat against the headboard beside her, finally having a second to think for yourself and process all that had happened. The thing you landed on first, the main feeling you could identify, was how overwhelmed you felt. You couldn’t think clearly when she was in bed next to you. 

When you thought she was asleep, her breathing even and quiet compared to how she was before when she was worked up, you took a chance and leaned down to leave a kiss on her shoulder. It seemingly went off without a hitch, so with tears of your own forming, you quietly got off the bed and headed towards the door.

“You leaving?” Alexia asked in a half-asleep mumble. When you paused with your hand on the handle, she waited a minute before carrying on. “It’s okay. See you around. Hopefully.” 

—

It was inevitable that you’d end up back here. Back in the city you met her.

After she’d said that phrase to you, the same phrase that really started it all, you knew it was only a matter of time before you saw her again. Because that time in Paris, it had been different. 

If someone asked you why, you would say you weren’t sure. It was a gut feeling, not a certainty. The same gut feeling that took you around the world even though it seemed nothing ever truly surmounted from it. However, in the end, something had. It led you back to Alexia.

After you closed the door to her hotel room behind her once you left, you leaned back against it and put a hand over your mouth to cover your own cries that forced their way out. She was right behind you in the room, she could probably hear you, but you didn’t care. She had apologised and told you she hadn’t forgotten about you. Those two things meant so much more than they seemed to on the surface. 

As you walked down the familiar streets of Barcelona, the past ten years flashed by in a similar way to how people thought your life flashed by before the end. All the anguish, the resentment, the guilt and regret, they strolled right on by. You ignored them and focused on the good. Albeit, there wasn’t much of that, but enough that you felt sure in what you were about to do. This wasn’t the end, this was the beginning again. This was one door closing and another one opening as you entered a cafe you knew like the back of your hand, even a decade on.

She was sat at the same table you always used to sit at. A booth by the window in the back corner. Closed off enough from the other customers with a view of the streets you both walked together in the past. Her hand in yours, hidden in the pocket of her coat. 

Her back was to you as went over, so by the time you got there and went to sit down, she was flustered, standing up out of nerves yet unsure of how to greet you. To put her at ease, you giggled softly, then sat down across from her. She let out a relieved sigh before crossing her arms on the table and taking in the sight of you in front of her. It was the first time she properly had the chance. 

You looked older, ten years had passed so of course you did, but nothing about you had changed that much. You were still the same person she fell in love with and that’s all that mattered to her.

“Hi.” You finally said. 

“Hi.” She replied.

The pair of you shared tearful smiles and one of Alexia’s hands drifted across the table to take one of yours. With her in front of you, the same girl you bumped into at University, and her hand, that was slightly weathered by the years of sports, holding yours, it felt like no time had passed at all.

—

shamelessly inspired by tyler the creator! i had the majority of this done until that anon decided to drop by last night and then that kinda put me off this one but it's whatever! i know this was a bit of a heavy read so i thank you for sticking with it and i hope it was enjoyable nevertheless <3

[velvetwyrme]

aHhh okay so the discussions of Titan!Megatron on @callsign-relic's blog have fully. FULLY taken over my brain and ive been drawing stuff for it for like the last few days nonstop

the tl;dr of this is AU is pretty much "what if Megatron got turned into a titan/cityformer as a form of penance/imprisonment and now roams the empty wasteland of Cybertron forever" plus "IDW Megatron has really fucked up internals so... what if that, but as a City?"

and of course since he's a Titan, that also means he has a cityspeaker... or three. One per sub-AU thing. Theres 3 options. 3 flavours of AU.

i have so much art to make. but in the meantime, for more info! check out the #titan au tag on Relic's blog :]!! (also uhh potential ns//fw warning for the link shfjbdkd)

Hi. My battery is running out once again so design and art notes get chucked here instead of an image.

The cuffs and collar are hardwired into Megatron, so I made the lights the same colour as his biolights!

I imagine that on the tops of his shoulders there are solar panels, even if you can't see them here lol.

I really wanted to keep the swirly bits on Megatron's chest from IDW

Other art notes:

The second picture with the seekers is (loosely) inspired by a discussion about whether or not Megatron gets visitors or not. I thought about who would visit him and well... I think this is as close as Starscream realistically gets to visiting him.

Extra detail about that piece is that Thundercracker and Skywarp are keeping watch from above! Also drawing Megatron took me like 8 hours because I was struggling with his legs really badly kshffkbfkdsbdk,, the background went much faster, funnily enough.

Optimus specifically isn't wearing his Autobot badge any more.

This isn't relevant in this series of images, but Ultra Magnus's eye markings are only on the Magnus armour. His other two forms do not have them :] (... until he begins to discard the armour, that is.)

Megatron is roughly 3200m/2 miles tall. Technically he could have clouds around his knees, but I thought this looked a little bit cooler lol.

Also, height chart! Him big. I didn't even attempt to put a human for scale because that'd be. near impossible with this scale.

[azdesertwillow]

OP's tags on this are worth posting too. Especially that last part. Read them again if you have to

Your first pride story was touching and all but you still married a man.

Yeah, bisexuals do that sometimes.

[bunnis-monsters]

i don't know if you've seen them, but the krampus parade videos of krampus picking the girl up or kissing them 😍 bunni im begging you

Imagine being that girl.

You’re at the parade, waving and smiling. He notices you, all cute with your chubby cheeks looking so warm and squishy.

You’ve never been before, unaware of the traditions of the village. He’s never seen a woman look quite like you do, so plump with a full figure… it makes him feel hot and his pants tight.

Krampus walks over, easily lifting you, a claw tapping his cheek and of course you kiss it.

That’s when you notice he is NOT wearing a mask and you just kissed THE Krampus.

Of course that kiss was basically him slipping an engagement ring around your finger.

Krampus has chosen you as his bride, and everyone cheers when he carries you away.

He takes you to his den and quickly consummates the marriage, fucking you like an animal~

His cock stretches you out, his hand smacking your ass lightly while his tongue tangles itself with yours. You’re his pretty little mate now, his gorgeous wife.

Of course he stuffs you full of his cum, leaving your pussy drooling.

want more? send me a kofi! ^^

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

[samble-moved]

post itself

false flags

trans/adjacent tags

accessibility features

tumblr live post (thanks for the link, @problemnyatic)

flashing / strobing / lights

unblockable flashing ad

buying ad free

staff @/macmanx guilt trip

list of staff + more issues

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

pls pls heard me out...FIDDLESTAN! <3

ok, i got this ask ten days ago, and I've been thinking about it ever since. Because I got two other asks asking for fiddauthor, and I dON'T KNOW HOW TO LET THEM DOWN LIGHTLY BECAUSE I'M A FIDDLESTAN BITCH THROUGH AND THROUGH 😭😭😭😭 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!!!

Don't get me wrong, fiddauthor is great and makes sense and everything. But listen. Billford and fiddauthor are multidimensional ships, they are good! But FIDDLESTAN!?!? that shit is the WHAT-THE-HECK-A-HEDRON!!!!!!! Even though it's literally 100% speculation, the implications are FUCKING CRAZY!!!!!!!!! I jumped between three ships so far during this gravity falls thing, each time thinking one is better than the other. I've decided that FIDDLESTAN IS KING!!!!!! I'm sorry. I could rant about them forever. I've been listening to nothing but extended versions of disco music for the past week. (YES THEY HAD A CRAZY ROMANTIC FLING IN VEGAS NO I WILL NOT ELABORATE!!!! (yes i will. I will elaborate at some point. it will be like ten pages or text. or I will draw it. idk.))

Here is a sketchbook doodle from like a week ago. I'm gonna post another fiddlestan thing in a few moments, but my style changes like I'm a completely different artist every week without warning, so I'm gonna leave this by itself!

He comes into YOUR house, he steals YOUR identity, and he fucks YOUR research partner!!! Fuck you!!!!!!!!!!

[cardierreh15]

💀💀 imagine being so uneducated and dumb you hold a fetus up to higher standard than the babies that are dying by the hundreds in Palestine. You mfs a pro-life until the actual “LIFE” is here and don’t wanna have shit to do with them. Fuck off anon.

I can't believe you're in favor of abortion... I can't believe my favorite writer is in favor of murdering innocent children, I can't believe it.

[nicktoonsunite]

Given how Miracle City is, wouldn't Manny look at the hero/villain dynamic, age difference, and similar powers, and just assume that Vlad is Danny's dad. The longer until Manny asks about it, the funnier it'd get.

HE WOULD. It's also funnier considering that's the most devastating thing you could say to Danny I think. Like if it wasn't Manny who's saying it he would've been so offended he'd launch him into space

The topic was never brought up at all (Vlad isn't an active threat nowadays and Manny only knew him because of past recollections from Danny and the others) so I can imagine Manny just sat with that assumption until one day he gets to visit Danny's parents' house and makes some offhand remark about his dad. Danny gets confused and asks what he means

Manny says smth like "are we supposed to be careful around him or is he retired now"

Danny: who do you think my dad is

Manny: is Vlad not your dad?

Danny:

[reigningm4x]

Max during the USGP weekend in Austin

[lxvvie]

fuck nasty!Ghost who shows you how much he misses you.

You were out running errands, leaving Simon, home from his latest deployment, to his own devices. All was going well—so you thought—until you heard the telltale ping of your phone and saw that he had texted you.

Simon probably needed you to pick something up for him on the way home. Mm. Doable. You opened the text under that innocent assumption.

And you know what they say about making assumptions.

Because right there in front of your very eyes was a picture of underwear. Your underwear. Your favorite pair of underwear. Your favorite pair of underwear you'd been searching for while you were getting dressed this morning.

They were covered in cum. Simon's cum.

You receive another text not even a second later: Miss you, sweetheart.

It was a miracle you didn't drop your phone.

[egophiliac]

do skully have pokemon?

Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.

(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)