#Instead of who and what she WANTS to be--NEEDS to be for the people she cares about and who care about her

[mixed-messages]

Chip and Dip

Lando Norris x snowboarder!reader

Author’s Note: In honor of where I live getting around 11 inches (28 cm) of snow over two days, here’s a little social media au about an Olympic snowboarder, who also happens to be sponsored by Monster Energy. Just like Lando. None of these IG stories are real. I made them with my need for detail

I haven’t done an smau in so long, so please bear with me and the fact it doesn’t really have a plot

General Notes: no use of yn, a nickname is used instead. no faceclaim, but there’s some skin showing in a few images! swearing, she/her pronouns used, yc is your country but you can pretend it’s just a snowboarding team or smth!

Liked by mclaren, lando, chipnflip, and 567,832 others

monsterenergy Two of our favorite snowboarders will be heading out with a few other Monster Energy athletes for a snowy getaway. Stay tuned for clips, tricks, and videos

Tagged: chloekim, chipnflip

user02 stfuuuuuuu omg omg who are the other athletes???

user78 CHIP AND CHLOE MY FAVE DUO 👹

user34 wait can someone please explain why she goes by chip???

↳ chipfan omg it’s so stupid (affectionately). years ago she was a guest on a youtube channel (forget which one) and she tried to do a trick and fucking ATE it (not the good ate) and chipped her front tooth. everyone just calls her chip now

↳ user04 it was that one trickshot channel

chipnflip let’s get ittttt 🏂 Liked by author

chloekim So excited! We’ll have to teach these skiers how to snowboard 🥱 Liked by author

user18 I SEE MCLAREN LIKED. PLSSSSS TELL ME LANDOSCAR WILL BE THERE

↳ monsterenergy we can neither confirm nor deny 👀

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Liked by mclaren, chipnflip, oscarpiastri, and 1.3m others

lando the boys on the slopes

Tagged: oscarpiastri, patriciooward, nolansiegel, monsterenergy

user167 PATO IS THERE TOO? IM GONNA COMBUST

user16 is it just mclaren and the two snowboarders?? 🏃🏻‍♀️

↳ monsterenergy We can assure you there are more than just the five of them! There are ten in total!

user74 Not them becoming a clique 😭

user55 have they taught you guys snowboarding yet???

↳ chipnflip I fear we haven’t been able to teach them yet! We wanted to get to know each other first! Hopefully tomorrow 🤞

↳ lando @.chipnflip If it’s like anything today, I’m worried I’m gonna become scared of the snow

↳ user67 LANDO WHAT HAPPENED TODAY?

↳ lando @.user67 snowballs to the face 😔💔

user178 so you’re telling me 10 athletes had a snowball fight and no one posted about it???

↳ chipnflip I gotchu!

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Liked by nolansiegel, patriciooward, lando, and 678,438 others

chipnflip The snowball fight that occurred between 10 professional athletes last night. To our managers, no one got injured 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Tagged: lando, chloekim, patriciooward, and 6 others

lando Speak for yourself 👎🏻👎🏻

↳ chipnflip dude, be so for real, it wasn’t even packing snow. it was as light as a feather

↳ lando MATE YOU LIFT

user137 LANDO GETTING HIT IN THE FACE JQICNDOW BYEEE

oscarpiastri As Lando’s teammate, I must say, I do believe there was a small piece of ice in one of the snowballs

↳ chipnflip Ope— uhhh I was unaware of that one

ycnowboarding We’d like to formally apologize to McLaren for any harm our athlete may have caused to your very expensive driver

↳ mclaren we accept the apology. Liked by author

↳ lando says WHO?

user33 not her bullying Lando 2 days after they met 😭😭

↳ user77 and him clapping back 🏃🏼‍♀️

user88 OFFICIAL YC SNOWBOARDING ACCOUNT APOLOGIZING IS SENDING ME

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12,458 likes

f1gossipupdates Some of Chip’s recent IG stories! There are lots of theories after Monster Energy uploaded a video of the winter getaway/vacation. While other athletes were being interviewed and Chip or Lando could be seen in the background, the other was always close behind. Leading some fans to suggest that there might be something going on between the two of them.

user009 omg can’t two people just be friends?? even if they’re more than friends should we even care??

hater17 i get a weird vibe from her. idk. i dont like her

↳ hater62 no bc i totally agree. there’s something about her that bugs me and i can’t put my finger on it. i hope she doesn’t take advantage of lando 💔

↳ user72 “take advantage of lando” 🥱 puhhh-lease you’re saying that like she’s not an incredibly successful athlete that has 3 Olympic gold medals and is as well known, if not more, than lando

user90 does anyone know why she rarely shows her face??? I wanna know what she looks like so badly

↳ user108 I mean… did you not watch the video monster put out?? Her face is clearly in that 😭😭

user779 chip and lando this, chip and lando that. but we should talk about the sibling-like banter between her and pato. they’re kind of iconic 💔😔

↳ user028 PLEASE. when Pato was “bullying” her and then she just… pushed him off his snowmobile??? 😭😭 and then Nolan and Chloe started to chant “fight, fight, fight” ???

hater59 she’s actually so annoying. she can’t stay away from any of them and it’s so cringe

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Liked by chipnflip, chloekim, maxverstappen, and 1.6m others

lando Truly an awesome experience! Huge thank you to @.monsterenergy for hosting this event, will forever remember it!

Tagged: chipnflip, oscarpiastri, chloekim, patriciooward, and 5 others

annika.overtomorrow It was great meeting everyone!! We’ll have to do something again! Liked by author.

↳ lando gotta get the gang back together sometime soon!

↳ user2 THE GANG. ARE THEY ALL BESTIES NOW??!!

user14 SEVENTH SLIDE. SEVENTH SLIDE

chloekim You weren’t a horrible snowboarder, I’ll give you that.

↳ lando You honor me greatly

user85 call me crazy, but is that chip in the seventh slide???

↳ user23 I was thinking the same thing but she doesn’t wear those types of goggles 💔💔

chipnflip Will forever laugh at your hair in pics 1 and 4 🫵🏻🤣

↳ lando You’re just jealous 🥱🥱

↳ chipnflip whatever helps you sleep at night!!

user65 Still obsessed with the fact Nolan casually pulled 10 McLaren lego sets out of his suitcase

↳ user17 No bc I cackled when that happened

↳ nolansiegel what can I say? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I come prepared

hater9 Praying seventh slide isn’t… her. Was literally hard for me to watch the videos they posted bc of how obnoxious I found her. like wtf even is that nickname???

↳ user56 that’s not very girls-girl of you like your bio says. Liked by author

↳ user56 LANDO?????

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Liked by lando, nolansiegel, maxfewtrell, and 578,491 others

chipnflip Was definitely a fun time! Met so many new people and was able to catch up with some longtime friends :,) My runs weren’t too bad either 🥱🥱

user92 max f in the likes????

↳ user10 RIGHHHHTTT???

chloekim she’s an icon, she’s a legend, and she is the moment 😍

↳ chipnflip i’m gonna kiss u

↳ lando @chipnflip eh? 🤨

↳ user6 lando 💀

patriciooward It was great meeting you! Even if you did kick me off of a snowmobile!

↳ chipnflip booooo 👎 you’re making me sound aggressive

↳ patriciooward @chipnflip Good!

↳ user65 helpppo i love their friendship

oscarpiastri Pretty sure Lily has been attempting to subtly ask to meet you

↳ chipnflip Oh my gosh that’s so sweet 😭😭 text me!!

lando bet i could do the trick on the second slide

↳ chipnflip omg I bet you could 🤩🤩 bet I could win a grand prix in less than 110 races

↳ lando @chipnflip low blow :(

hater8 gosh, she’s so fucking rude.

↳ user14 girl, I think she was joking Liked by author

↳ hater8 but how are we supposed to know that??

↳ user14 as long as lando knew it was a joke why does it matter???

↳ lando I knew it was a joke. I was sitting right next to her.

user54 hold. lando and chip. hanging out. together. alone???? 👀

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+ stories from lando and chip during the trip

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okay, so I’m thinking of doing a part 2, maybe with some writing. just because I think the ending to this as of now is a little bland and I want chip and lando to do the classic soft launch photos (I have some cute ones).

Please let me know if you’d like another part!

[monsterfucker-lisa-swallows]

I nearly cried reading the article yesterday. The things Neil did to those poor women...It just absolutely drains all the air of the room. It really is a grueling read and I hope the victims get everything they need to be able to have happy healthy lives going forward.

I never anticipated that it would be this. The Ocean at the End of the Lane and the Graveyard Book were very important to me as a teenager because I was a victim and those books just felt so visceral to me. And the person who wrote them is a monster who, instead of dealing with the trauma he got from an abusive Scientologist father, decided to abuse people so he could get off. He fully knew what he was doing was rape, and he cannot hide behind the "neurodivergent" excuse because it's such a fucking insult to those of us who are autistic.

His son witnessed some of that. His very VERY young son was in the room when some of this took place and even was somewhat encouraged by neil to act as if one of these women was a slave even if neil kind of joked it off at the time. I hope he gets some sort of intervention, because as someone with an abusive father figure I know that sons are frequently turned against their mothers when things like this come to light (my stepfather managed to turn his sons - my halfbrothers - against all the women in my family). He needs some healthy modeling and child therapy to help unpack any warped ideas neil gave him about women.

And that brings me to Amanda. I have come to the conclusion that yes she was entirely negligent because she has known for at least a few years about some of this. I do not believe, based on the article, that she knew the extent until very very recently. It seems as though she had been trying to get him to stop and that their marriage was struggling for about a decade because of it. I believe she loved him and thought she could get him to change, which was especially complicated by the fact that they had a young child together and that if she ever aired her grievances against them she'd be the bad guy. Remember, this is the word of Amanda Palmer, one of the internet's biggest punching bags, against beloved internet darling Neil Gaiman. She knew there was no winning and that she'd come off like a vindictive harpy.

Remember in 2020 when everyone was assuming she was a narcissist because of Neil's goodreads account? in light of the article saying their marriage suffered since 2014 and that they separated at the time that this drama happened, it reads almost like a coordinated smear campaign with plausible deniability. Almost like he was thinking ahead to the possibility that she could release this information about him so he had to get in front of it to make her look narcissistic while having plausible deniability to say "oh I was just hacked." (I'm not going to say I told you so even though back then I totally did say to maybe lay off them because we didn't know what was going on behind the scenes. Amanda Palmer is not perfect and has done and said things that I personally don't agree with, but the hatred has always seemed particularly vitriolic in a way usually reserved for female celebrities.)

Not saying at all that there is no culpability and that she didn't contribute to endangering these women (we still don't have her side of the story though no sources have placed blame on her as of yet), but the article clearly stated that she had told Neil to stay away from the most recent victim and that she was horrified when she found out the extent of what had happened. I truly think she wanted to believe that he wouldn't do it if she asked, even as negligent as that last bit of hope may have made her. I say all this to remind people once again to put the most blame on the man who is actually perpetrating these crimes and not to just throw unfounded vitriol at the wife, since my familiarity with these kinds of cases suggests the angry mob often looks for reasons to hate the woman even more than the man. The article says that the divorce left her with no money and that she's living with her parents now. When they met she was an artist with no real wealth and he was a much older man with wealth and fame. He is the one who put her in this position and I would wager he was using her (and the open marriage they once had) as cover and plausible deniability for any accusations levied against him. Just something to think about until we get her side, which we may not get because she knows how the public reacts to her and because, crucially, she has a son with him and doesn't want to put him through that kind of trauma. We don't even know what Neil may have put her through during their marriage, though we know the kind of appetites he has for women.

But again, these women are so brave for coming forward to tell their stories. They have seen years of women being raked over the coals for suggesting well-liked famous men have preyed on them, yet they told their stories anyway. I know how frightening that is. I really, truly hope that they can find peace now.

I wish people would understand that it is actually a good thing when allegations of sexual misconduct are thoroughly investigated, leaving no stone unturned, and that most survivors of sexual assault who've come forward are not lucky enough to have people take their story seriously enough to look into it in good faith, verify it, and post a long, exhaustively researched researched article informing everyone that they're telling the truth.

[leona-hawthorne]

lorenzo berkshire: how a relationship would be with my favorite male manipulator <3

(@mattnott this came out of the chat we had the other day LMAO ily zoya)

on the surface, lorenzo berkshire is just that guy. he’s effortlessly charming, polite, intelligent, and the kind of person who could convince anyone he’s the perfect human being. he’s the type who walks into a room and immediately draws everyone in—not by being loud or flashy, but by knowing exactly how to make himself seem approachable, kind, and maybe even a little vulnerable. but all of it is just a mask.

enzo is a master manipulator. he knows exactly how to get what he wants, and he does it by making people think they’re in control. he doesn’t argue or beg; instead, he plants ideas like seeds in your mind. “if that’s what you think is best,” he’ll say with a soft smile, knowing full fucking well you’ll second-guess yourself. he makes you feel like every decision was yours, even though he’s been guiding you the whole time. and the worst part? you don’t even realize it until it’s too late.

emotional manipulation and guilt-tripping

enzo doesn’t argue outright, but he’s an expert at making you feel like everything is your fault. when you expresses your feelings or doubts about your relationship, he deflects and twists the narrative.

“you’re overthinking again, love. you always do this—it’s like you’re looking for reasons to fight.”

“after everything i’ve done for you, this is how you see me? it just doesn’t seem fair, babe.”

the constant emotional exhaustion of always questioning yourself and feeling like the villain slowly pushes you to the edge.

subtle isolation

enzo doesn’t tell you to stop seeing your friends or family straight up—that would be too obvious. instead, he plants seeds of doubt about them, turning you against the people who care about you.

“it’s just… don’t you think your friends don’t really understand you? they don’t see the real you like i do. they’re only here for a good time. they wouldn’t stick with you when things are hard, like i do.”

“your sister’s always been jealous of you. it’s kind of obvious when you think about it. in fact… i think i she was flirting with me at the lake trip last weekend…”

over time, you feel more and more alone, with enzo as the only person left in your corner—and even that’s suffocating.

his temper leaks through

enzo prides himself on being calm and composed, but even he can’t keep the mask on forever. when you push back—when you really challenge him—his anger surfaces.

“you think you’re better than me now? after all i’ve done just to make you happy? you should be grateful i’m still putting up with you. no one else would.”

“you don’t get to treat me like this. i deserve better than your constant doubts.”

while he doesn't resort to outright aggression, the quiet, cutting anger and emotional coldness are enough to make you feel small and utterly helpless against him.

hypercritical tendencies

at first, enzo is the type to shower you with compliments. but once he has you, the nitpicking starts. he frames his criticisms as “helping” you or “protecting” you, but they’re really about control. he wants to cut you down until his words are the only form of validation you trust; the only ones that matter.

“that dress is nice, but it’s not really your color, is it?”

“i just think you’d be happier if you didn’t spend so much time on things that don’t matter.”

it’s not that he truly thinks badly of you; it’s just his way of slowly implementing his control. the constant criticism erodes your self-esteem, making you wonder if you’re ever enough for him.

dismisses your autonomy

enzo frames his controlling nature as “taking care of you” or “looking out for you,” but it’s really about stripping away your agency.

he might make decisions for you without asking, like ordering for you at a restaurant or canceling your plans because he thinks you “needs rest.” you simply don’t get a say.

“i only did it because i know what’s best for you. you’d do the same for me if you cared as much as i do.”

over time, you realize you don’t have control over your own life anymore—and that terrifies you.

you start to feel like you’re losing your identity. the things you love—your hobbies, your friends, even your sense of self—have all been swallowed up by enzo’s world.

his fear of losing control turns ugly

when you start pulling away, enzo’s fear of losing you makes him tighten his grip. he might start tracking your whereabouts, showing up uninvited, or trying to manipulate you into staying.

“you’re not yourself lately, baby. i think you need me more than ever right now.”

“are you seriously leaving me after everything we’ve been through? i thought you were better than this. i thought you loved me—was it all a joke to you?”

his desperation exposes just how deeply insane, how utterly selfish he really is—and how dangerous it is to stay—but you still can’t help loving him.

the breaking point: seeing the mask slip

your breaking point comes when you finally see enzo for what he truly is. maybe it’s a moment of anger where his charm gives way to cold cruelty. maybe it’s realizing how isolated you’ve become or maybe it’s catching him in a lie.

“you know what? you’ll never find someone like me again. you’ll never find someone who loves you the way i do—or touches you the way i do.”

“go ahead and leave. but don’t come crawling back when you realize no one else will put up with you.”

and suddenly, the illusion you’ve clung to—the one where enzo is perfect, where his love is worth the pain—is shattered.

enzo doesn’t beg you to stay. no, he’s far more subtle. he sets the stage so that if you even think about leaving, the world around you becomes a constant reminder of him. your friends adore him. “enzo’s perfect for you,” they say, oblivious to his carefully crafted facade, oblivious to the fact that he doesn’t even want them within 50 feet of you. your family loves him because he’s gone out of his way to charm them. “he’s such a gentleman,” your mom gushes after he brings her flowers for no reason at all.

and when you confront him? he doesn’t argue. he doesn’t yell. instead, he sighs, looking at you with those soft, sad eyes. “i just wish you’d trust me,” he says, and suddenly you’re the one apologizing.

and enzo’s love isn’t love—it’s obsession. he doesn’t just want to be with you; he wants to consume you. he integrates himself so deeply into your life that it feels impossible to untangle yourself from him.

he’ll listen to all your favorite songs and tell you how much he loves them too. “this one reminds me of you,” he’ll say, and suddenly, every melody feels like it belongs to him.

he’ll watch all your favorite shows, quote them back to you, and make inside jokes so that even your comfort series becomes a part of his web.

he’ll charm your friends and family until they’re all on his side. “you’re lucky to have him,” they’ll say when you confide in them. and if you ever leave? they’ll tell you you’re making one of the biggest mistakes of your life.

“i just don’t understand,” he’ll say if you call him out. “everything i’ve ever done was for you. because i love you.”

and here’s the thing about enzo: even when he’s truly, deeply in love, he’s still toxic. love doesn’t magically make him a better person—it just changes the way he manipulates you. instead of using his charm to pull you in, he’ll use his insecurities to keep you there. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he whispers, and it sounds more like a warning than a confession. almost like he’s saying he’d become worthless without you.

but love does soften him in some ways. his need for control isn’t about power anymore; it’s about fear. he’s terrified of losing you, so he holds on tighter. he’s still manipulative, still controlling, but now it’s because he genuinely believes he can’t live without you.

enzo’s love is messy and overwhelming. it’s the kind of love that makes you feel like you’re drowning, but at the same time, you can’t imagine living without it. and that’s the tragedy of lorenzo berkshire: no matter what he does, you can’t help but love him anyway. even when you see his true colors, you’re already too far gone.

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

navigation. masterlist. lorenzo berkshire masterlist.

[unacknowledgeable]

Yan!batfam x Reader x TMNT (can you tell what I’ve just watched?)

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I'm not really sure what this is i wanted a lil break from the overwhelming angst from my SK!Reader series, kinda just plot points for this idea that I wanna lay out and explore later more in depth, mostly based of 20018, loosely based off the 2012 Turts, the turtles aren't yandere in this, it’s just the general protectiveness of their family lol :p 

The typical neglected batsibling lol, shows up to the manor at age 5, after the disappearance of your mother, 2 years after Bruce adopted dick

Alfred had really put his foot down on you knowing about bruce's “nightly excursions”, citing the different backgrounds and skill sets as to why Dick was allowed and you weren't even told

So, there's already distance, such a huge secret and constant dangerous activities

Someone who didn't have that drive for justice, and two who needed it like air

That, and that bruce didn't really know how to deal with not just some kid, but his kid that wasn't really supposed to exist at all

You were a complete accident, bruce didn't even remember who your mother was without digging into decades old new articles of his past relationships, years after you had already left the manor

On a lighter note, you meet the turtles pretty early on, which definitely saved you in the long run, despite the rocky start

Three years after arriving at the manor, at the age of 8, you run into the turtles while playing (unsupervised, mind you) by gotham harbor

You heard them in one of the sewer drainage pipes, and after some talking, you asked them to play (you didn't actually expect them to say yes, no one ever did)

They were hesitant, they can't just show themselves willy nilly! They got so lucky with April, but that was April, who saw them first and had to ask questions later

But you had asked questions first, so you’ll get to see them later 

You saw their silent hesitation, and at the risk of looking desperate because you were  you offered to blindfold yourself, so you wouldn't see (don't ever do this, y/n’s dumb and 8)

And they agreed! They actually agreed! You’d been so excited! So excited you barely noticed just how many times you fallen, because the boys played a little rough but you were determined to keep up

So when the time came when you had to leave, you were covered in bruises and mud

Alfred wasn't exactly pleased, but you were smiling and happy, so he wouldn't look a gift horse on the mouth

After that you kept going back, day after day, to play by the waters edge, with people you couldn't see but saw you, instead of staying cooped up in the manor, where you saw everyone and were seen be none

Of course, being batman's kid, you were able to deduce that these kids where some type of mutants, you can only get get knocked over so many time before realizing what you're running into is a hard shell and the hands helping you up only having 3 fingers

So eventually, you find out just exactly what they look like, what kinds of turtles they are etc

This totally doesn't spark a near life long love of turtles, leading you to decorate your entire childhood room with the reptiles, nope no way

You meet April later, since she lives a lot further than the turtles do, and while you could get away with sneaking off to the harbor for 1-2 hours just fine, it was a bit difficult finding a time lapse of time long enough before Alfred grew wary of where you ran off too

The turtles think your dad is some kind of bat mutant or vampire, because you talked about overhearing Barbra and Dick talking about bruce being this “batman” once

No they don't realize they were talking about THE batman until they are way older lol

Otherwise they don't really think anything of it bc their dads a rat like, it’s normal for them

Reader definitely is like, super buff in this bc you've been roughhousing with 4 mutant superhuman turtles since childhood, OF COURSE your gonna be buff

Plus your older than them so losing is just a non option for you, your far too competitive for that

You bring Donnie whatever gadgets you can from the house for him to take apart and use

You’ll bring Mikey spray paints and tag the abandoned theme parks together

You get Raph high quality bedding to stop his spikes from ripping them

You taught Leo how to play chess, and you have a running score on whose won, going back yeaaars

You and April end up going to the same school, (you begged Alfred a lot) so you had a pretty active social life outside the manor and you help her with her job searches a lot

I can't decide if I want Gotham and New York to be sister cities, or just treating them as the same place, I'm still figuring that out lol. I just find the hijinxs of the turtles vs. the angst of the batfamily to be so funny and the worms agreed sooo.

[immoral-stranger]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 // 𝐌𝐕𝟏

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒. 🪐 “I like to stick to walls. Observing conversations, lifting them when they fall.” – Foster the People, Fire Escape.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: There's a dinner party and reader is a chef, so a lot of talk about food. Reader is also very self-deprecating. Allusions to issues regarding mental health and self-worth, but it's not really the main story. It makes sense, I promise, I just don't know how to warn about it.

A/N: My sister requested this after we watched the movie Sommartider (very swedish), so there's a similar scene in that. I personally find this one very cute. ♡

The apartment smelled of butter and garlic, the scent clinging to the sun-warm kitchen, filled with light that spilled through the sheer linen curtains. It was small but charming, a snug little nest tucked into the hills of the French Riviera, not too far from Nice. You stood at the counter, hands damp from having peeled potatoes, a half-prepared gratin tray in front of you. It had been a gift from your parents, a fittingly named Marseille bleu Le Creuset roasting pan. You would’ve never bought it for yourself—too expensive—but as a gift, you’d been thankful to receive it. 

“Did you decant the wine like I told you?” Imogen’s voice drifted from the other room, where she was preening in front of the gilded mirror you’d picked up at a flea market. It wasn’t her style—too rustic, too worn—but she’d said it added “charm” to your place, always opting for a backhanded compliment instead of the truth. She hated your style because it was the opposite of hers. 

You didn’t look up from your work. “No, uhm—”

“Kinda busy,” she interrupted, breezing in. Imogen always moved like she was on a runway, even barefoot in her sister’s modest kitchen. Her hair was swept into a sleek bun, and she wore a silk blouse that you suspected cost more than your entire apartment deposit. Sponsored, most definitely. She paused to eye the tray in front of you. “What even is that?”

“The base to dauphinoise potatoes,” you said, flicking a glance at her. She didn’t care about the answer; she never did. Imogen asked questions to fill the air, not to gather information. You also suspected that she loved the sound of her own voice so much that she never felt the need to shut the fuck up. 

She wrinkled her nose, but it was half-hearted, like a habit she wasn’t willing to break. “I still can’t believe you do this out of pure enjoyment.”

You shrugged, lifting a knife to thinly slice another potato. “Everyone needs to eat, Imogen.”

“Yeah, that’s what Uber Eats is for,” she said breezily, perching on one of your barstools. “No need to go to culinary school.”

You turned to give her a pointed look, hand on your hip. “And who do you think works in the kitchens at the restaurants you order from?”

Imogen made a face, part exasperated and part amused, and waved you off. “You do not always have to poke holes in other people’s logic. It’s an unattractive trait.”

Before you could respond, the sharp trill of the doorbell cut through the room. Imogen’s eyes widened, and she hopped off the stool in a single fluid motion. “Oh god, that’s them—” She smoothed her blouse and gave herself a quick glance in the reflection of a hanging copper pot. “Do I look good?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but your voice softened in spite of yourself. “You always do. It’s your job.” 

As Imogen floated toward the door, a knot of tension twisted in your stomach. It wasn’t jealousy—it never had been. It was more complicated than that: a mix of frustration and yearning that you didn’t want to untangle. Imogen walked through life as though she owned the air around her, while you had spent most of yours holding your breath. 

She pulled the door open with a practiced flourish, stepping aside to let Daniel stroll in first. His confidence and laughter preceded him, a quick kiss placed on Imogen’s cheek, and she giggled in a way that made you want to hurl. 

Daniel moved with the kind of ease that made it impossible to tell if he was posing or simply existing. Former Formula 1 driver, now Imogen’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, who appeared far more interested in globetrotting and sponsorships than in anything truly meaningful with her. With a bit of self-distance, you actually really enjoyed Daniel’s presence. He was funny and kind, even though you had nothing in common. 

“Danny, always good to see you,” you said, managing a polite smile as he stepped into the kitchen, lifting your attention from the food preparations. 

“Whatever it is you’re cooking smells wonderful,” he replied, inhaling deeply. “This is Max,” Danny added, stepping aside to reveal the man behind him. 

Through a gap, you could spot Imogen in the entryway, observing your reaction and how you greeted the both of them. It was almost like she wanted to make sure you wouldn’t embarrass yourself—or, worse—embarrass her. You, of course, knew who she had invited over for dinner. You’d had to sit through hours worth of gossip all the times you and Imogen caught up on each other’s lives. So, having two world-famous athletes stand in your kitchen wasn’t as surreal as it may sound. 

Max was taller than you’d expected, his broad shoulders and quiet presence making the doorway seem smaller. Clad in a simple black t-shirt, he seemed like any other guy your age. He looked relaxed but not indifferent, his gaze curious as he took in your modest apartment.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to resist the rising amusement. “Danny, I don’t know if it’s funny or offensive that you think I don’t know who he is.” 

They both chuckled slightly at your words, and it was like you could see how tension released from Imogen’s shoulders, instantly becoming a couple centimeters shorter. 

“I would shake your hand, Max, but I have oil all over mine,” you said, holding up your slick fingers as evidence, before returning to the food, dealing with a marinated cut of meat. 

“Right,” Danny said, clapping Max on the shoulder and steering him further into the room. “She’s got this whole culinary genius thing going on, doesn’t she? Always smells like a five-star restaurant in here.”

“Not exactly,” you said, though the compliment made your cheeks feel warm. You glanced up at Max, who was still watching you, his smile small but genuine.

“Well, don’t let us interrupt your masterpiece,” Imogen said airily. “We’ll stay out of your way. You’ve got this under control, right?”

You only nodded, turning back to the food. It wasn’t until you heard Imogen’s laughter trailing into the living room that you allowed yourself to relax. There was a faint comfort in being in your element, even if you weren’t entirely alone.

In the background, you heard them talk as Imogen poured up glasses of wine for everyone. The wine she had forgotten to decant—that you knew needed air to taste decent. You heard her talk about the wine like it was something special. You, however, knew that she had stolen all of her knowledge from when she shot an ad for a winery somewhere in South Africa, and it didn’t particularly look like either Max or Danny cared that much. Ironic, for someone who had their own wine company, but you also got tired of hearing Imogen talk about things she didn’t really care enough about to research but talked about anyway to seem interesting. 

As she poured the fourth and final glass, you saw Max pick up two of them in your periphery. You tried to not visibly tense up as you heard his steps approach across your creaking wooden floors. He set both the glasses down on your kitchen island with a careful clink. 

With a wordless nod, you thanked him, picking one of the glasses up and swiveling the red liquid around to aerate it. 

Max lingered near the counter, his hands tucked into his pockets as he studied the array of ingredients you had spread out around you. “Is that you?” he asked, nodding toward a framed photo on the wall. 

It was one of the few remnants of your short-lived modeling career—an editorial shot of you, disturbingly close up, showing skin texture and flyaway hairs, vivid watercolour-like makeup in patches around your face and neck. You didn’t even look like yourself in it, which maybe was why it was the only photo of yourself you could bear seeing every day as you spent time in your kitchen. 

“Totally narcissistic, I know,” you snorted, keeping your eyes on the frying pan sizzling on the stove. 

“No, uhm, I didn’t mean it like that.” Max’s tone softened. “I think it looks cool. You must model too then?” 

“Nope.” You shook your head, glancing up at him, surprised by his sincerity. “I mean, I tried to, but I quit a while ago and went to culinary school.”

“That explains all this.” Max said, gesturing to the kitchen.

“I may have gone overboard,” you admitted, laughing softly. 

Imogen, perched on the edge of the sofa like a cat surveying her domain, twirled a lock of her hair idly before cutting in smoothly. “Is she boring you with her food talk, Max?” Her voice had that lilting quality you recognized well—equal parts teasing and dismissive, designed to simultaneously charm and belittle.

You stiffened instinctively, your movements freezing, spatula scraping the bottom of the pan. 

Max, however, straightened slightly, his casual stance shifting. “Not at all,” he replied, his tone easy but resolute, as if dismissing her suggestion entirely. Then he turned toward you. “Actually…” He hesitated, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can I help with anything?”

“Oh, probably not,” you said, trying to recover from sounding too surprised. “Imogen always says that I’m like a dictator in the kitchen and that my recipes are unreadable.” 

Max stepped closer, peering down at your notebook with recipes, pages filled with messy handwriting, arrows, and scratchy diagrams. “No, I get it. It’s like a mind map. Makes it easier to see the process,” he said after a moment. “Even if I don’t know what half of these things mean. What even is… a wild turkey?” 

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised that he could make sense of your ramblings. Looking over, you saw his finger point to one ingredient. You let out an unguarded laugh, the sound bubbling out before you could stop it. “It’s bourbon, for the marinade,” you explained. “Does this look like turkey meat to you?”

The meat sizzling in the frying pan was obviously some cut of beef, to judge by the colour. You didn’t need to be a culinary expert to know that. 

“No,” Max admitted with a grin. “And it would be weird to measure meat in tablespoons.” 

Your lips quirked upward, and you reached for a pear from the fruit bowl beside you, along with a cutting board and a little knife. You were hesitant to give him one of your good knives, worried he’d cut himself the first thing he did. It was quite common for people to do when they were unfamiliar with the sharpness a chef’s knife could have. 

“I guess you can chop that pear in little cubes, if you want to help.” 

Max took the pear from you, turning it over in his hands as if he were inspecting some foreign object. “A pear?” 

“It’s for the salad,” you explained, already turning back to your own task. 

“You can put pear in a salad?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve eaten a pear since I was about seven.” 

You arched a brow, glancing at him over your shoulder to see that he was fully sincere. With swift movements, you took the knife and cut a slice of the pear before dipping it into a vinaigrette you’d already prepared. 

“Try it, for science,” you said, holding it up for him to taste. 

Max hesitated before taking a small bite, his brow furrowing slightly as he chewed. Then he nodded, his expression lightening. “Huh, you know what you’re doing.” 

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you dismissed his comment, turning to look at the stove again. 

Max chuckled in response, shaking his head. He then stepped closer to the counter as he grabbed a knife. His movements were unpracticed but deliberate, the pear wobbling slightly as he began chopping it into uneven pieces. You felt the familiar itch of not being in control, almost taking over your own movements. But, you stopped thinking for a moment. Dinner wouldn’t be ruined just because the pear wasn’t in perfect cubes. And Max was actually putting in effort, biting down on his tongue, a line forming between his brows as he focused.

“Are you always this much of a perfectionist,” you asked, viewing his motions, “or are you just showing off in front of me?” 

“I’ve never put this much brain capacity into anything before,” Max joked, adding a laugh as he examined one of the misshapen pear cubes. 

For a moment, the kitchen fell into an easy rhythm. Imogen and Danny’s laughter floated in from the other room, a sharp contrast to the quiet concentration shared between you and Max. You didn’t usually let anyone help in the kitchen—it was your sanctuary, your domain—but for some reason, with Max fumbling his way through chopping fruit and throwing curious questions your way, it didn’t feel like an intrusion. 

When the food was done, the four of you gathered around your dining table, decorated with pottery and plates that you had collected throughout the years. Nothing matched, just like you preferred it. The golden hour crept through the windows as the room filled with light from the sun and flickering candles. 

And the dinner went fine, just like it always did, even though you couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario of accidentally poisoning someone, or forgetting an allergy, maybe dropping the main dish right on the floor. Your sister and her company ate like they enjoyed it at least. The added blur of wine helping with the atmosphere. 

You were always the most quiet one in group settings, only speaking when spoken to, really. But you liked it that way. The stories Max and Daniel could tell from their lives were vastly more interesting than anything you had experienced anyway. Imogen too lived a more eventful life with fashion weeks and world travelling. Everyone seemed to like it that way too, the scrape of forks against plates punctuating Danny’s latest story. 

“…and when I finally got the bloody thing out of the house, the neighbour��s dog chased it straight back in,” Danny concluded, laughing as he leaned back in his chair. Imogen giggled, dabbing her lips with a napkin in that poised way of hers.

Max chuckled but shifted his gaze to you, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “So, how did you end up going from modeling to cooking?” He asked, after Danny was done telling the detailed story about a snake entering his house back home in Australia. 

You didn’t realise for how long you’d been quiet until you were now forced to speak, your voice sounding foreign to even your own ears. Setting your fork down, you answered, “I gave myself one last runway season to see if I could support myself. I walked three shows, while Imogen walked like thirty.”

“Thirty-two,” Imogen corrected, not missing a beat. She reached for her wine glass, taking a delicate sip before adding, “I’ll always believe you could’ve done it if you didn’t give up so easily.” Her tone was light but pointed. 

Your lips tightened. “I didn’t give up, Imogen—I moved on.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it,” she said with a faint shrug. “You never see yourself as anything special, always such a plain Jane.” 

The words settled heavily in the air, their weight pressing against your chest. For a brief moment, the table fell silent, the only sound the faint clink of cutlery against porcelain. You forced yourself to maintain an even expression as you reached for your glass of water. 

“It’s kind of hard to when you’re having dinner with three child prodigies,” you answered, letting out a pathetic laugh to conceal your emotions. 

For someone who was so afraid of you embarrassing her, Imogen really had no issue with her own words causing embarrassment for others. 

Max frowned slightly, his hands stilling as he turned toward you. “I wouldn’t call myself a prodigy,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with something else—discomfort, perhaps.

“Yeah, right,” Danny said, nudging Max with an elbow. “Modesty doesn’t suit you, mate. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Max smiled faintly but didn’t reply. There was a softness in his expression that made your stomach twist, though you quickly moved your gaze to look at your plate; the uneven shapes of pear in the salad were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. 

The conversation shifted, as it always did with Imogen, back to her. Something about a designer or a photographer saying she was the best model to work with. Something about a socialite event where ridiculous things had happened. Ridiculous meaning stupidly expensive or over the top. You wanted to laugh, knowing that they most likely didn’t use the real thing for the crazy champagne fountains she talked about, or that the sturgeon caviar they had served was a cheap knock-off, because no chef in their right mind would use the amount she mentioned. 

You zoned out as she talked, only starting to pay attention again when the conversation drifted towards what they were doing tonight and that they might need to call a cab soon. 

“Oh, where are you going?” you asked, unsure if you actually cared. 

“A sponsored event on a yacht in the marina. You know the jewelry company I did an ad for?” she replied casually, her tone almost bored.

You nodded, though the familiar ache of exclusion began to settle in your chest. You knew the exact advert she was referring to, not because you cared, but because those freaking pictures of her were everywhere. In stores, on every social media app, on digital billboards across multiple cities of the French Riviera—hell, you’d even seen it at a bus stop. 

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to come,” she added. The statement wasn’t cruel, but it stung all the same. “You never do.” 

Your fingers curled around the stem of your glass as you gave a small nod, keeping your face neutral. “No, I guess you’re right.” 

Max hesitated, glancing between you and Imogen. “I mean, she could come if she wanted to, right?”

“Yeah,” Imogen said, tilting her head as though the idea had never occurred to her. “I guess I could make a call to get you on the list.” 

“Don’t bother, you know it’s not my scene anyway,” you said quickly, your voice firmer than you intended.

Danny grinned, leaning back in his chair. “A wild night for her is solving a crossword puzzle with a pen you can’t erase.” 

“Or,” Imogen added with a smirk, her eyes glinting with mischief, “when she’s brave enough, watching an episode of Criminal Minds instead of Friends like she usually does.”

Their laughter filled the room, bouncing off the walls with the kind of ease you’d never quite mastered. It wasn’t malicious—at least not intentionally—but it still left a weight in your chest, heavy and familiar.

You kept your head down, pushing the last bit of salad around your plate, and told yourself you didn’t care. This was the dynamic, after all. Imogen had always been the star of the show, and Danny loved playing her supporting act. You had other friends who understood you better, who you had more in common with. Max, though—Max had been a surprise. And even now, as their laughter rang on, you caught him glancing at you from across the table, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

The dinner ended not long after. They had places to be, important people to talk to—while you had sitcoms to watch and dishes to take care of. You were happy to see Imogen every once in a while when she and Danny were both in Monaco, and you loved cooking for people, no matter who they were. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little happy knowing that Imogen was busy with work all throughout the upcoming month. 

As they filtered out, their voices trailing off into the warm Riviera night, the apartment felt suddenly too quiet. Locking the door after them, you slid down onto the floor, sitting with your knees tucked up towards your body, rubbing your tired eyes with the back of your hands, not caring if mascara crumbled all over your face. You felt empty, the hum of the refrigerator filling the silence. The half-drunk bottle of wine on the kitchen counter looked temping as you considered finishing it yourself. 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Max trailed behind Danny and Imogen as they strolled toward the cab waiting just down the street. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of the sea, and the stars twinkled faintly above the rooftops.

Danny was cracking a joke, and Imogen’s laughter rang out like a bell, but Max barely registered it. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his mind somewhere else entirely—back upstairs, at the table, watching you push your food around with that faint, detached smile.

He slowed his steps, his feet dragging. The idea of the yacht party, the glitz and endless small talk, suddenly felt suffocating. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of leaving felt… wrong. Max hated events like that. Everyone knew that. And while it was nice to catch up with Danny since they didn’t see much of each other nowadays, he found Imogen insufferable. He could play padel with Danny tomorrow if he wanted to talk more with him. Before he could think better of it, Max stopped altogether.

“Hey,” he called after them, making Danny and Imogen turn around.

“What’s up?” Danny asked, his brow furrowing.

Max hesitated, then gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “I think I forgot my phone. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Imogen gave him a bemused smile, her head tilting slightly. “You sure? It’s not like we can wait forever.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Max said firmly, already stepping back. He waved them off. “Have fun.”

He turned before he could see their expressions and made his way back to the building.

The walk up the stairs felt oddly daunting now, each step heavier than the last, as though the weight of his own indecision was pulling him back. The soft hum of the building at night—the faint creak of pipes, the muffled sounds of life behind closed doors—seemed to grow louder with every passing moment. Max reached your door and hesitated, his hand hovering uncertainly near the wood.

What was he even going to say? He wasn’t the type to overthink things, but this felt different. He didn’t want to overstep. What if you didn’t want company? The evening had already been a mixed bag of awkward moments, and the last thing he wanted was to make it worse.

Max sighed, his arm lowering slightly, just about ready to turn back when he heard your voice from the other side of the door.

“I miss you too, like craaazy,” you said, your voice muffled but clear enough through the door. Max froze, his curiosity getting the better of him. You sounded close, as though you were standing right by the door. Picking up the pieces, he figured you were talking to someone over the phone. 

“Imogen and Daniel came over for dinner earlier, and he brought a friend of his, and it was the most awkward thing ever,” you spoke again. 

Max frowned slightly. He was the friend, of course. While he’d sensed some discomfort during the evening, particularly whenever the conversation turned toward you, he hadn’t thought it was that bad. Who would you be talking to like that anyway, debriefing something that had just happened? Did you have… a boyfriend? 

“Mum,” you added, your voice cutting through his doubt, “of course it was a boy.”

He relaxed a fraction, leaning slightly closer to the door without realizing it.

“A cute one, too,” you admitted. 

Max blinked, warmth creeping into his face. A cute boy. That was a twist he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t help but grin, his chest lifting slightly at the thought. And you definitely didn’t have a boyfriend.

“You don’t have to ask if I bottled it. You already know I did,” you said after a brief pause, your voice quieter now. “I’m not like Imogen. I don’t think I’ll ever learn to be that easygoing.” 

Max was back to frowning, this time for a different reason. He didn’t like the sound of that. He wanted to knock, to interrupt, but he didn’t move.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you,” you said, your tone softening into affection as you ended the call. “Tell Dad I said hi. Buh-bye.”

Max barely gave himself a moment to think before he raised his hand and knocked. There was a pause, long enough for him to wonder if you’d heard, and then your voice came through the door. 

“Did you forget something?”

By the sound of your voice, he could tell that you were expecting it to be Imogen coming back for something. Not him. 

Max smiled despite himself. “Yeah,” he said, the words coming out more confidently than he expected. “I think I did.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then he heard rustling from behind the door, almost as if you’d stumbled to reach it. The lock clicked, and the door opened, revealing you with wide, startled eyes. You looked more tired than you had before, makeup and clothes a bit askew. He assumed Imogen had something to do with how polished you’d looked at the beginning of the evening. 

“Max?” you asked, your voice pitched slightly higher in surprise.

He cleared his throat, his hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I was wondering…” he started, shifting his weight but keeping his tone light, “if maybe, I could stay here and be boring with you?” 

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, though the words sounded stupid the moment they left his lips. He half-expected you to laugh, but instead, you blinked at him, your surprise melting into something softer.

“Uhm, yeah,” you said, stepping back to let him in. “Sure.”

Max stepped inside, and for the second time that night, he was struck by how inviting your apartment felt. The uneven warmth of the terracotta tiles beneath his feet, the mismatched chairs around the small dining table, and the array of plants lining the windowsill. It was nothing like he was used to, yet it felt like the picture-perfect definition of the word home.

Moving into the kitchen, his eyes landed on something on the counter—a tray of something, its surface dusted with cocoa powder.

“You made dessert?” he asked, tilting his head toward it.

“Yeah,” you said, shutting the door behind him, smoothing out your shirt with your hands. “I made tiramisu. Want some?”

Max didn’t hesitate. Moments later, he was seated on your sofa with a fork in hand, his first bite of the tiramisu silencing any lingering awkwardness. “Fuck me, this is like the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

You laughed, a soft, almost shy sound that Max couldn’t help but find adorable. You really couldn’t handle compliments well, and Max was going to use that to his advantage to make you wonderfully uncomfortable. “And you were going to have all this dessert for yourself instead of going out with us?” he asked, setting his fork down briefly to give you a look of mock betrayal.

“Well,” you said with a small shrug, sitting down beside him with your own plate of dessert. “I wasn’t really invited in the first place.”

Max frowned. “That’s not fair. They should’ve—”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s not my scene anyway.”

Max studied you for a moment, his fork hovering over the dish. You were the opposite of so many people that he knew. And so similar to himself that it was almost scary to him. 

Tucking up your legs under your body, you made yourself comfortable on the sofa before you continued talking. “I tend to stick to the walls in places like that anyway. Just observing conversations, trying but failing to lift them when they fall.” 

“Do you also feel like you’ve got a foot in your mouth whenever you open it?” he wondered honestly. 

“Exactly. Always putting my foot in my mouth,” you replied with a chuckle. 

“Sounds impressive to me,” he joked with a grin. “I’m not that agile.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You were the one to bring it up.” 

For a moment, the apartment settled into a quiet hum, the faint sounds of the outside world barely audible through the walls. Max leaned forward, setting his plate down on your coffee table. The TV was noticeably black in front of the two of you.

“So,” he asked, tilting his head slightly, “what is it tonight? A crime show or… what was the other thing?”

“Friends,” you replied, reading in his reaction. “You’ve never seen Friends?”

Max’s brows lifted. “Not really. Maybe bits and pieces, but I couldn’t tell you much about it.”

“Oh my god,” you said, your tone equal parts horror and humor as your eyes widened dramatically. “You have a lot to learn.”

He laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I’m hoping you’ll tell me everything I need to know.”

You smiled, a real one that softened your whole face. You picked up the remote, turning on the pilot episode. Max wasn’t really paying attention, but he liked how certain funny things made you audibly laugh. The more you watched and the more tiramisu you ate—the more the comfortable feeling spread like a fire through your living room, silently burning as he placed an arm around you and shared your blanket. 

This wasn’t where he’d thought he’d end up as he had entered your apartment the first time tonight, but now, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think ♡

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Taglist: @koko-mei @anamiad00msday @floweringanna @lucyysthings @yelenam5 @firefirevampire @alexxavicry @emails-i-can-send @freyathehuntress

[fadingdaggerr]

hiii! can you write mel x reader where reader is a baseball player that's why melissa's no. 1 choice of melee weapon is a baseball bat l

also, i looooove your writing style. i love details sm, i feel like the readers can connect more with what they're reading that way. and happy holidazee!!

strike and sink

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.3k

includes: r has some anger issues, author clearly never did team sports

warnings: touch of violence, kissing/making out

note: i genuinely know NILCH about baseball. i was a competitive fighter this is not my strong suit okay. everyone hold hands, we’re gonna pretend any of this makes sense together.

The slowly warming spring air was a relief of the bitter winter that plagued the city for months. The ice is gone, grey skies clearly to the scenic blue, the streets becoming more active as people pull themselves out of a small hibernation. It’s invigorating for Melissa, practically skipping towards the main door of work, happy to not have the chill making her knees stiff.

The morning had given her too much pep, noticeable even to her as she tries to fight a smile that won’t quit. Part of the day's comfort seems to radiate off of her. From her warm bed, to the warm shower, to the warm body that joined her, now in the warm air around her. A sheer joy and excitement stay around Melissa as she treks through the halls of Abbott.

After dropping her things off in her classroom, she makes her way towards the lounge to find Barbara and the rest. Pushing through the door, she hears Janine and Jacob talking about something she has no interest in, Barbara off towards the television to gaze at Jim Gardener.

Melissa feels like Coke and Mentos as she pours herself a cup of coffee, trying to get her routine out the way before she snaps. When the morning update ends, and her other half reunites with her at the table, her resolve cracks.

Turning in her chair to address the room, she asks, “who’s got plans Saturday?”

“Well me and Gregory were go-” Janine begins.

“Cancel it!” Melissa says, pointing at her grade partner with a smile, “we’re going to a baseball game.”

“The Phillies?! I didn’t think they were playing this weekend?” Jacob guffaws.

Melissa’s face pinches up briefly, “no, dingbat. It’s a minor league game. Got some free tickets to spare and I’m feeling charitable.”

The younger teachers, to their credit, hide their confusion at Melissa’s excited offer. Never once did they imagine that she would care for minor league anything, but free is free. The three nod together in excitement, knowing better than to question anything. The grin on Melissa’s face makes it even more worth it to them, not used to that level of outward happiness.

“I’m in! But you’re buying me a corndog, Schemmenti!” Ava announces over the intercom, making everyone roll their eyes in time with their amused grins.

Barbara looks at the lingering smile on her friend’s face, letting out a low, knowing hum at the expression. Green eyes snap her way with a squint, silently telling her to not say anything. The kindergarten teacher just raises her hands in surrender, shaking her head with a playful look.

Taking her suspicious look back, Melissa brings her attention to her phone. Propping her glasses on her nose, she opens her texts.

Gonna need 6 tickets at the booth.

Your reply comes quickly, as if you already knew what she’d say.

Amore: already there. under “sexiest woman alive and co.”

You’re an idiot.

Amore: and yet you beg for me. a conundrum, truly

Melissa rolls her eyes, swiping her hand over her face as she tries to hide the schoolgirl smile stretching across her face. Answering will only encourage you further, and she will be damned if she’s caught blushing like a tomato over a silly text. Instead, she brings herself back into the conversation for the rest of the school week. Though with every blink, she pictures you.

—☽—

Not wanting to be stuck in the car with everyone for even fifteen minutes, Melissa only picks up Barbara, having everyone else meet her at the stadium. It pains her to not wear the spare jersey from the back of your shared closet, opting for a shirt with the same orange as the team’s color. Barbara settles for her only orange necklace, one she never wears, but will in order to entertain her best friend.

The redhead’s eagerness is infectious, finally happy to see you back on the field for the first time all season. She was bitter when practice started, only able to go to a few of them before the coaches closed the practices to get focused and avoid distraction, which felt targeted towards her even if it wasn’t. At this point, she just wanted to see you in those pants. God, those pants.

“How well do you think you’re going to control yourself?” Barbara asks. Melissa peaks over briefly, giving her friend a questioning gaze. The woman sighs, “presumably, you don’t want the kids in your business. And do you really think they’re not gonna notice your ogling?”

“I’m just hoping they mind the game and not my business,” Melissa grumbles truthfully, having not really thought about how attention could fall on her.

Barbara gives a slow nod, “ah, yes. Because they’re all well known for minding their business.” Melissa huffs at the sarcasm, but sequesters herself to silence.

Pulling up to the stadium, she pulls in next to Janine’s car, seeing Jacob and Janine excitedly waving as Gregory gives a smaller one. Stepping out, everyone talks as they wait for Ava to arrive, knowing her tendency to arrive fashionably late. Once she does, everyone is shocked to see the principal step out wearing a jersey for the team.

Her hands fly up in confusion, eyes landing on Melissa, “you invite us to this and I’m the only one to show out? Are you trying to make me look like a nerd, Schemmenti?”

“Last week you explained the sociopolitical commentary of Star Trek to me. You don't need help looking like a dork.”

This silences Ava long enough for Melissa and Barbara to corral everyone to the entrance. At the ticket stand, she gives her name, crossing her fingers that you were just joking. Six tickets are placed in front of her, immediately grabbing them to lead the group to her usual spot. Second row at the home dugouts, she ushers everyone in, Barbara to her left, Ava to her right. Before she can even speak, the redhead passes Ava a five, “get your own damn corndog.”

As the seats fill in around her, Melissa is practically vibrating. The loudness around her is oddly comforting, hearing everyone’s excitement. Peeking every few seconds, she hopes to catch the teams entering the dugouts. She wants to check her phone to see if she has a message from you, but she knows you’re too in your head to even acknowledge your phone’s existence. Her persistent watching is broken by Jacob leaning over Ava’s empty seat.

“How did you even get these seats? They’re like the best ones!”

Melissa’s brows raise, trying her best not to sputter, “I know a guy.” A glint of nonbelief goes over Jacob’s face, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he retracts back to Janine’s side, sparing one last analyzing gaze at Melissa before going back to the conversation.

“You’re screwed,” Barbara mumbles, fixing her sunglasses.

“I’m screwed,” Melissa parrots, but leans forward in her seat to be as close to the field as she can manage.

—☽—

Ava shimmies into the seat just as the teams pour onto the field, but Melissa’s attention doesn’t divert once. Her eyes scan to find where you are, finding a familiar figure shifting weight from foot to foot. You seem to know eyes are on you, stilling for a second as you look around. A little grin grows on your face as you finally catch the sight of familiar red hair in the crowd, but you keep yourself from drawing attention to her with your usual blown kiss. You instead settle on tapping your toes into the grass three times.

The teams take their places, and you settle yourself on the second base, fiddling with the velcro of your glove as you wait for the game to start. Your opponents, the Blue Foxes, were well known in the league for their cutthroat playing style. For the last three years, they had remained undefeated, and all thanks to their pitcher. Castille was known as a sharpshooter for their pitching accuracy, and your team had been practicing even harder just for this.

Their first batter strikes out, the second only gets to second base, the third is out before they run it to first. You can see your coach to a hard clap from the dugout, clearly pleased that nothing had been scored yet. The second inning plays out similarly, though Castille strikes out two of your batters easily, and is clearly angered when another makes it to third.

As another inning begins, you refuse to rip your eyes away from the ball. Risking a blink is not in the cards. The Fox batter, Morgan, slams hard, the ball flying out into the grass. Your centerfield scrambles for it, throwing it to you before Uwey makes it to your base. Screaming in the stands only propels you, jumping with all your might to get it from the air, planting yourself on the base as Uwey slides in.

“Fucker!” He yells at you, though a grin crawls on his face as you offer your arm to get him up. “I was betting against that, leapfrog.”

“Oops,” you joke, giving him a pat on the shoulder as the umpire declares that he’s out.

Tension between the teams rises quickly during the break, feeling the staredown as you chug water. You make an effort to not look back, but you can feel it regardless of where you divert your attention.

“We feeling oh-and-oh?” Jackson asks you, wiping sweat from her brow before putting her cap back on.

You flex your glove hand, trying to work out tension, “if we’re lucky. I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself today.”

“Your girl here?”

You can’t hide the smile on your face, “yeah. And she brought some people, so it’s our ego now.”

Back on the field in the sixth inning, all the niceties between everyone stop quickly. There’s no help up from the ground, no compliments for good plays. There is only icy eye contact, especially with every fastball that Castille sends to your batters. You practically cackled when Jackson made it to second off one of them, watching her wave crazily to her dad in the crowd.

Peeking behind you, you catch a glimpse of Melissa in the stands, watching her clearly explain what’s going on to Barbara. From your spot, she can’t see you, which is likely the only reason her eyes are not glued to the diamond. There’s a confidence in her place here, knowing it well and knowing your team, she almost has an authority about her.

The coach waves you down, letting you know you’re up to bat next. Next quickly becomes now as Castille strikes out Ismat. The sickly grin on their face makes you nervous, but you force yourself to steel up. Your name echoes through the speakers, announcing your approach to the plate. Gripping the bat, you tap against the plate three times before raising the bat, giving it a slight twirl as you nod.

Melissa’s focus stays on you, watching the bat tap one-two-three. Softly against her thigh, her hand copies the pattern. Leaning forward slightly more, she watches with rapt attention.

The first pitch flies past you at breakneck speeds, strike one. You adjust your grip, eyes not faltering as you eye up Castille, nodding again. This time, you swing, hearing the solid thwack of the ball against the bat. Immediately you take off, keeping your focus on the first base, expecting the shadow of the ball to fly overhead.

Turning as you slide in, you see the ball go towards Jackson. Not the baseman at third, but Jackson. A sickening cry follows, a gloved hand rising to hold the side of her face. Beside her in the dirt is the ball. It takes no time for you to deduce who had done it, only one person could hit someone running that fast. How the ball got to them, you have no idea. All you know is that Castille did it.

The umpire calls a timeout. The moment he does, you’re sprinting across the field to Jackson. You shove everyone out of the way, crouching down to her level.

“Still with us? Got your facilities?” You ask, more concerned sounding than you intended.

She nods weakly, gripping your arm to use it as leverage to get up. The Foxes gather around, checking on her too, all except Castille. Once Jackson is up, you immediately turn, stalking towards the pitchers’ mound.

“The fuck is your problem?!”

The echo of your voice reaches the stands, everyone leaning forward in their seats. Melissa goes to rise immediately, face serious and hands clenched, but Barbara grips her arm to keep her in place. The anger coming off of her seems to clue in the others, who all watch the scene with equal curiosity.

Your teammates quickly run up, one trying to pull you back a bit. All you notice is the bat in his hands, immediately ripping it from his grip with a harsh tug. Still, you keep it pointed down, simply a not-so-subtle threat.

“It was an accident. No need to get pissy,” Castille says, stepping into your space. “Just a little baseball, everyone gets hurt.”

“Everyone’s about to include you, fucknut,” you twirl the bat in your hand, raising it ever so slightly.

With a sly grin, a hand stiffly pushes you back, “shit happens, let it go. Why don’t you go play nurse now that your shortstop is out of commision.”

You mock the laugh they let out at their own comment, bat coming up in a full swing. Just as Castille’s eyes widen, you feel a hand grip the end of the bat, stopping you in your place. Turning back, Morgan only shakes his head, silently asking what the fuck you are doing. Your eyes dart back to the pitcher in front of you, a little terror hidden on their face. It placates you enough to hear the coach calling you over to the dugout, no doubt for a scolding. Dropping your arm, you trudge over, shoulder checking everyone as you go.

Melissa’s unblinking eyes never leave you until you disappear into the dugout. She watches the bat fly from your hand into the hard wood of a stadium with a sharp crash. Green eyes stay on you as you rip the hat from your head, smashing it to the dirt as you walk. Barbara keeps her in place still, feeling the way her friend is practically shaking with anger, as if she feels what you are feeling. Unbeknownst to Melissa, the others are scanning over her, silent questions on their faces that they cannot voice now without facing wrath. Ava peers over to Barbara, eyebrows raising in amusement. The response she receives is a subtle eye roll.

“Holy shi-” Ava starts excitedly, but is silenced by Melissa’s hand flying out to try and cover her mouth.

Tuning in, the redhead tries to make out what the coach yells at you. The man is clear is not trying to hide his displeasure. “Are you nuts?... Could have killed them… Don’t care what hap- stop interrupting me!”

Staring up at your coach, you practically pout in your spot, “they fucking fastballed Aliyah to the face and I’m getting shit?! They’re still on the field!”

“It was an accident,” he tries to reason.

“Sharpshooter missed that hard? Bull-fucking-shit man!” You shout as you stand, crossing your arms with an air of defiance.

Your coach takes a deep breath, staring you down. “Locker rooms. Now,” he says with no room for anything else. If you speak again, you won’t touch a bat or glove for weeks. Rolling your eyes with a huff, you head to the stairs.

From where she is sitting, Melissa cannot see where you are, or rather, where you went. Her frantic eyes scan the field, but from Barb’s grip, she is not even able to try and get a better view. Eyeing the field, she sees the coach round the dugout and approach the fence. He waves at her, motioning her to talk to him.

Melissa immediately shakes herself free from Barbara’s hold and flies down the wobbling stairs. Bracing herself on the fence, she asks, “what the hell, Marty?”

“I put the walking liability in timeout in the locker room,” he said with a fading annoyance. “That shit can’t happen on my field.”

Melissa frowns, “that jackass nailed Aliyah on purpose, come on.”

“We all know that. Now, can you just help me out here?”

Rolling her eyes, Melissa trudges down to the gate, letting herself onto the field to go the quick way.

“Oh, word?” Ava says, looking towards Barbara. Gregory looks at her with confusion. Motioning at the field, then Melissa’s disappearing figure, the gears finally begin to turn.

“Word,” Barbara says with a flat tone, picking up her phone to text Gerald.

—☽—

Laying down on the bench, you stare at the popcorn ceiling in hopes to calm yourself down. The cool wood is a balm to your sweaty back, freezing out the fire in your veins. Anger sloughs off the longer you lay there. Your vision blurs as you fight hot tears, acidic with your anger. You know better than to react like that, especially so publicly. Shame crawls up your spine, knowing Melissa’s friends saw you like that, that Melissa saw you like that.

The door to the locker room opens, the slam of the door being followed by heeled footsteps quickly approaching. Sitting up, you’re met with Melissa’s frown.

“Hi,” you say, offering a weak smile.

A single brow raises, “hi? That’s what you’ve got for me?”

“My bad? Whoops?” You shrug, knowing that there was no saying you hadn’t had the intention of bludgeoning Castille. Your eyes drag away from her face to fully look at her for the first time since you left this morning. The smile on your face stretches, “you look beautiful.”

Melissa gives a silent laugh, and you revel in the way her eyes close and she ducks her head. Even after two years, she still gets all shy when you compliment her. Stepping closer, she plants herself between your legs, “maybe next time, fail in beating up someone off the field.”

“Wouldn’t’ve failed if Charlie didn’t cut in,” you mumble, hands rising to hold the back of Melissa’s thighs. Leaning forward, you bury your face against her stomach. Any and all lingering tension in your body disappears when her hands come to your back, scratching up and down slowly. “Sorry I embarrassed you,” you whisper against her.

Bending over you, she presses a kiss to your head, “how’d you do that?”

“Attempted assault and battery.”

“It’s a Saturday night in Philly, amore. That’s just business,” she jokes, but the meaning isn’t lost on you.

Melissa stays right there until the game ends, the buzzer ringing loudly. Pulling back from her, you nod towards the door, wordlessly telling her to go before the team comes in. Pressing a kiss to your sweat-dried hairline, she walks out, but not before sending a look back to you that makes you shiver.

True to your silent word, as the team pours in with the look of defeat written on their faces, you duck into the furthest shower stall. With grime gone and body dry, you tug one of Melissa’s sweatshirts over your body and slide into the softest sweatpants Amazon can deliver. Returning to your locker, you start shoving everything into your bag, not taking the time to fold or organize anything. Spinning on your heel, you try to leave, but your coach steps in front of you.

“I know,” you say. “Head on my shoulders, use it. Bat as a weapon, don’t use it.”

“You cracked it,” Marty says with exasperation, shoving the bat from earlier into your hands. “What’s this? Number seven now?”

“Five,” you mumble, avoiding his eyes. Tucking the bat under your arm, you shuffle past him. With your head down, you leave, trying to hide your face from the other team as people move in and out of their locker room. Moving through the maze of people, you try to find your girlfriend at your normal meeting spot outside the stadium.

In a circle, the Abbott group debriefs under the streetlight. The yellow light illuminates fiery red hair, drawing you in quicker. Hearing your steps approach, she turns in your direction, and arm outstretched in invitation to tuck yourself into her side. The group, except Barbara and Ava, look stunned at your arrival, scanning over you and the arm around your shoulders. A dual ooooh passes the lips of Janine and Jacob, Gregory only giving a slow nod after thinking about what Ava pointed out earlier.

“Got something for you,” you say quietly to Melissa, feeling a tad exposed knowing they all watched your outburst earlier. A single brow props up in question. From under your other arm, you pull out the cracked bat.

“Don’t swing, slugger!” Ava jokes, putting her hands out in mock self-defense. You can't really hide the embarrassed look that flashes across your face.

“Ignore her,” Melissa says, grabbing the bat from your hands, toying with it in her grasp. Her nail runs along a thin, long split in the wood, looking back at you. “Can never bring me a not fucked up one, can you?”

“I prefer to call it a signature,” you offer. Melissa shakes her head with a silent laugh, arm tightening to pull you into a one-armed hug.

The night ends with a reluctant promise from Melissa to invite everyone over for dinner to properly meet you, and a genuine promise of tickets to any home game from you. Ava sends Melissa a double thumbs up, gesturing towards you as she mouths nice. Walking with Melissa and Barbara to the car, all the energy in your body is practically melting away. Gameday jitters and the anger you felt earlier had kept you awake, but now all you want is your bed with your girlfriend wrapped around you.

In order to be polite, you sit in the back to let Barbara sit in the passenger seat. Before Melissa even turns onto Barbara’s street, you’re dead to the world in the backseat with your cap covering your face. If your snores disturbed their conversations, they never said a word.

—☽—

The soft feeling of pressure going up and down your shin wakes you from your slumber. Sliding the cap off your face, you peek towards Melissa, sitting in the backseat now with your legs in her lap. Blinking quickly, you sit up, wordlessly agreeing to go inside, still silent with lingering sleep.

Melissa grabs your bag for you, letting you trudge up the steps to the front door and fidget with the lock. Once inside, you shove your shoes off and flop onto the couch. Dropping your bag by the door, Melissa settles next to you. Resting her head against the back of the couch to match your position, she looks in your direction.

The second she does, you’re leaning to tuck yourself into her side. With your head on her shoulder, you mumble, “can put it in the kitchen.” At her questioning hum, you elaborate, “the bat- wait we have knives. Laundry room.”

Melissa chuckles at the sureness in your tired voice, pressing her lips to the crown of your head. The feeling makes you shiver, immediately sitting up, so close to her that your noses brush. The newfound closeness makes the corners of her lips curl up, creases around her eyes deeping as you just stare at her in subtle awe. Slow blinking eyes rake over your face, just as carefree in their indulgence as your own gaze.

It becomes impossible to hold back, leaning into her the second her eyes find yours again. Soft lips brush against yours, and you push into her, kissing her with all the love fizzing in your chest. Her hand slides from around your shoulders to cup your neck, keeping you close as you shift to straddle her lap. With the gentlest touch, you cup her face, thumbs sliding over the apples of her cheeks.

Manicured nails dig into your neck slightly, making you whine against Melissa’s lips. Shuffling on your knees, you desperately try to press harder into her, wanting to be as close as close can get. The feeling of her tongue passing over yours is enough to make you shift your grip to her hair, tugging just enough to make a groan crawl from the back of her throat.

Part of you panics, trying to pull back to make sure you weren’t rougher than you intended. Melissa doesn’t let you get far, leaning in quicker than you back away, drawing you back in. Nipping at your lip, she finally lets you go, only to make you pout.

“Don’t start with me,” she jokes quietly, trying not to break the small bubble of comfort. “You go upstairs and change, I’ll warm up some leftovers.”

You sigh, pressing your forehead to hers, “five more minutes?”

A little grin plays at her lips as she presses a kiss to your cheek, letting you drop your forehead to her shoulder and relax your weight against her. A mumble of I love you vibrates against her neck, a soft kiss placed on warm skin.

Five minutes wouldn’t be so bad. And neither is the thirty minutes that it turns into, with you knocked out on top of her with a hand still buried in her red locks.

note: no longer the holidays but i hope yall had a good season!! in between my last fic and now i graduated college, so i would call mine a general success on that front <3

feedback appreciated as always, my sweet babies <3

[nonrebloggingviewerswillbeshot]

A Dellamorte PSA

Disclaimer: Not only do I have the privilege of talking about this topic because I suffered from emotional, psychological, physical and sexual abuse from my family, but this post will contain game spoilers. You have been warned!

Just a friendly but also scathing reminder to those who think otherwise, that what Caterina did to her grandsons was abuse!

Abuse comes in many forms and just because no one is going to argue that her treatment of them did in fact give them the skills they needed to survive, taught them how to close themselves off and push through, in a world that would have chewed them up and spat them out, it doesn't make it any less abuse.

Illario didn't get to be the way he was because Caterina was fair with them. He didn't just up and want to kill Lucanis because Grandmother dearest didn't play favorites. Its practically drilled into you from multiple people in the game(and even the book to an extent) that Caterina adored Lucanis and pushed Illario out into the cold.

Those boys lost everything because rival Crows killed their family. They were already in a raw and emotional state before they ended up with her. Just because you're raised an assassin it doesn't mean you aren't going to be completely hurt and devastated over your entire families deaths.

Just look at how unhealthily and toxically Lucanis clings to any scrap of family he has left, even Illario, that inadvertently sent him to a year of(to coin one of Astarion's lines) PURE SHIT!

That's a man who has been hurt by his past. A man who can't lose anything else. And his Inner Demons quest does a good job of explaining this.

So, if you think that a child, Illario, coming under Caterina's care only to be largely overlooked and neglected because Caterina was always going to see Lucanis as her favorite and golden child, never him, wasn't going to fuck him up in the head, you're delusional. And ignoring the basic human psyche.

He lost everything and wanted some love as all children do, from their guardians and caregivers. Instead all Illario got was the repeated swatting away of his hand as he reached out to try and hold what he wanted and needed while he was vulnerable.

I understand Illario, more than I thought I would. If I had grown up a Crow, I very much so would have offed my siblings much like he tried to because I was Illario in my household.

I feel for him, despite recognizing that he was very much in the wrong and shouldn't have done anything he did end up doing. I don't even like Illario, but I don't have to like someone to understand them, and pity and sympathize with them.

What Caterina did to both of them, wasn't fair, especially since Lucanis never even wanted to be the First Talon, and still doesn't even if after finding out what Illario did he wanted to 'take everything from him' and all Illario had left at that point while Lucanis still believed Caterina to in fact be dead(and that Illario himself was the one who killed Caterina because Zara reveals she didn't do it, with Emmerich's corpse whispering), is the oh so coveted seat of First Talon.

The thing that started it all, the title, the seat of power. The thing that destroyed the relationship of two cousins who were as close as brothers. It never should have happened, and despite already losing so much, Caterina is directly responsible for destroying what little they all had left.

Its a sad, pathetic state of affairs, that Caterina's own trauma over losing so much of her family as Velardo sought to steal her throne, caused her to abuse her grandsons, who she would have eventually anyway in one form or other because Lucanis states they would have ended up with her regardless.

None of it should have happened, but it did. It turned Illario into a jealous/envious monster who both loved and hated his newfound brother, because Lucanis feasted while Illario was left with scraps and crumbs at the foot of the Dellamorte table.

And it forced Lucanis into the role of favorite and golden child that he himself never wanted. He never wanted that animosity to come from Illario because of something he couldn't control and that closing scene in Wigmaker about how the rift between them was suddenly much wider than a table, spoke volumes.

Because you don't say no to family. You only nod and bow your head, silent and submissive to shoulder whatever family chooses to lump onto you. That's how they were raised. And Lucanis has, for want of a better turn of phrase; No spine to deny his grandmother anything.

.

I could go on for longer, but I've ranted enough and said what I needed to say. As always feel free to reply to the post, open a conversation, but be respectful and civil.

[loveandleases]

chris and jade’s behavior in the hospital ask pissed me tf off. jade being jealous of her sibling being HOSPITALIZED, because her parents are (for once, and rightfully) concerned about them?? her believing that her sibling was making a “mountain out of a molehill” as if the hospital staff don’t know the difference between an illness/injury that requires hospitalization and one that doesn’t??? get an actual fucking grip, bitch. not everyone is so starved for attention that they need to fake being ILL. i’m glad that everyone realized right away that letting her see/talk to mc was a bad idea; they do not need to hear the absolute shit that would be spewed out of her mouth, questioning if they really need to be hospitalized and aren’t they making a big deal out of nothing? with all due respect (none), get the fuck OUT.

oh also!

chris is so delusional and stupid that it’s concerning, tbh. why didn’t mc, who is in the HOSPITAL RECEIVING TREATMENT, call you to let you know???? why didn’t hospital call you??? and assuming that you’d still be their emergency contact after everything??? fuck off! the first thing i’d do in mc’s shoes after settling in would be to remove you as such; you would never, ever be privy to any of my medical info ever again.

and instead of being worried about the person you claimed to love being hospitalized, you’re worried about and jealous over whether cam is in the hospital room supporting his best friend. you need to join jade in getting a fucking grip, because this is nonsensical!

the fact that they still think of mc as theirs after everything they’ve done??? that they’re still the center of mc’s world??? that mc would be happy to see them???? like…is it crack that you smoke? you smoke crack??? in what world, what universe, would any of this still be the case?

Jade talking to anyone is a bad time. She has far too many seemingly harmless comments that end up being a backhanded compliment. Always out to feel superior while she tears others down. “You’re brave for going through this... I wouldn’t have needed to, but good for you.” That pettiness of hers is always in tow.

Chris runs on an unhealthy cocktail of ego and denial. Everything Chris does is coated with, “But I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 🙄 Chris is very much stuck in a fantasy within their head, seeing themself as the hero of MC's story, blissfully unaware that they were killed off pages ago. That ego is so inflated, that they think their very presence would be a comfort, so unable to see that they're likely one of the last people MC would want to see. Toxic duo = Toxic.

[dykecubes]

I was a hardcore dream fan up until the point the initial grooming accusations (the stuff in from the “The Truth” video).

I think a lot of people call Dream fans a cult kind of like,,,,, either insultingly or hyperbolically. Like they aren’t really thinking that the group is cult-like, and are saying it just because of the extreme devotion to dream through controversies. As a former fan tho, my experience genuinely does feel somewhat cult-like to me (I don’t want to downplay real cults, but I don’t have another word).

Cults often target people who are lonely and vulnerable and offer them community in return for not questioning things. I joined the dream fan community a couple months into the pandemic. I was very lonely. I had depression that I had just started getting treatment for (literally one session and I was still unmedicated) at my college, before getting ripped away from my hope things were going to get better. I wasn’t out to my parents, so living at home again meant getting constantly misgendered.

in short, I wasn’t feeling great. And Dream- you have to understand how much of his fan community (at least on tumblr) is into the idea that he loves his fans, and he loves his friends. And getting to watch those friendships felt like living vicariously. And having someone tell me they loved me, even if I knew I was just another fan helped. For a long time during the pandemic, the dream team were the literal highlight of my day. They were often the reason I got out of bed. I knew even then that that wasn’t healthy, but I was having trouble figuring out how else to get through things.

even after going back to college after the first vaccine had come out, Dream (watching and re-watching videos, interacting with the community) remained a pillar of my mental health. Less so, but if I needed to calm down, I watched a dream video. A lot of my free time was spent in fan spaces. I really, really put him on a pedestal.

I cannot describe to you how anxious I was when the grooming allegations came out. I genuinely started feeling nauseous all the time. I was checking my phone obsessively. I’m not going back to look at these, but I remember that dream had some initial responses (long Reddit post and whatnot). There wasn’t enough there to really make anything clear/disproven and the girls looked like they had a lot of evidence, so I was still anxious and sick and feeling like I was waiting in limbo to find out what was really going on. Trying to prep myself to accept that things might not be what I hoped, as much as I didn’t want to believe it.

when I logged on, the vibe in my tumblr circle was… very different. A lot of people (except for a few that ended up leaving with me) were acting like everything was disproven and it was all good and we could go back to normal times, with a few posts about how disgusting it was that someone would fake something like that. My first response was, honestly, confusion. I thought that I must have been being stupid and missed something or not understood something. So I politely sent an ask to a big name in the community that I trusted to be smart and explain things well, saying that I wasn’t sure we had enough evidence to really dismiss the accusations and asking why she thought that everything was disproven. She gave me exactly the same information that I already knew, while calling me stupid and saying that if I didn’t believe dream that I should just get the fuck out.

I felt suddenly, unpleasantly woken up. I wasn’t being stupid or missing evidence that would fully exonerate dream (maybe there was evidence like that in “the truth”. I never watched it, couldn’t). They just wanted to believe Dream wasn’t guilty, so they did, and twisted things until that made sense. Because they wanted to feel excited and loved again, instead of the crushing anxiety and dread I was in. And I thought about my own reactions, and I knew that I had been so fucking anxious over someone I didn’t even know because secretly I also wanted Dream to be exonerated. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and pretend that it simply wasn’t true because of what being a dream fan gave to me: bits of happiness and community.

And I was really scared of myself. Because I wanted to not believe those girls, not because I thought I had evidence otherwise, but because it would make me feel better. And I knew that was really, really shitty, and that that was something I had to stop in its tracks. And that I NEEDED to not be as obsessive or put anyone on a pedestal as much again. Because I would do the same thing- wanting to make excuses to keep my own happiness. And that’s not ok.

I stopped following almost everyone overnight and stopped watching anything Dream-related cold turkey (<—I realize this probably sounds stupid but I genuinely watched so much dream stuff it was an actual change in my life). I’m still in the mcyt space, mostly hermitcraft, but I make sure that I never put anyone on a pedestal like that again, and I have a way healthier internet to real life ratio.

Coming out of that space genuinely felt like something I was grieving. The intensity of my emotions, both in it and coming out, wasn’t healthy, and I’m really glad I left. if I wasn’t faced with a situation where someone was potentially materially being hurt, I don’t know if it could have happened, I was so embroiled. For obvious reasons tho, that crossed a line and luckily on the other side I had people that were kind to me when I was still kinda reeling.

anyway, tldr, my hot take with this situation is that more dream fans wake up and realize he’s a piece of shit, and get grace and kindness while doing so. Sorry for how long this is- hopefully I get my point across that I genuinely believe that at least some dream fan spaces are intensely unhealthy, more than some people outside of them might consciously think

anon if I’m being honest with you this whole situation has me thinking a lot about this post from a while ago and at the moment, yes, it is frustrating seeing his fans deny the evidence right in front of them but I really can’t help but hold a level of sympathy for them

I was never really a hardcore dream stan but I was very adjacent to that community back when I still had Twitter and TikTok and spent a lot of time defending dream and his community whenever criticisms of him came up, I very much disliked the idea of calling dream stans a cult because I spent probably about 5 years or so of my life in stan communities on Twitter and I’m very much of the opinion that they get a bad rap, but it was around the time of his grooming allegations that I stopped defending him as well and came to understand what people meant when they called his community a cult

while I still don’t fully like using that word to describe his community because I know people who are survivors of cults and don’t want to downplay their severity, I will also say it’s alarming how easy it is to apply the BITE method to dream’s fanbase, especially information and thought control

that being said, even if it technically is not a cult it’s still a very intense community and it’s still difficult to get out of (speaking specifically on the way former dream stans are often bullied for leaving) and obviously the connection you’d have to such an intense community like that is going to be a serious emotional one so I understand why a lot of them might still be holding on

so I agree, I hope if fans of dream choose to leave his community they’re treated with grace and kindness

thank you for sharing, anon, I hope you’re doing well <3

[magicalrocketships]

Flip flop for Where the Light is? Sorry for acting like a fan but i saw ur reblog and jumped at the chance

↻ FLIP FLOP: send me a scene from one of my fics and I’ll describe or write it from another character’s POV!

Where the Light is (Masterpost || AO3) AKA the one where Max gets pregnant.

Except, this time: Daniel's POV (part 1/2, I didn't mean for it to turn into something but then I got tired)

Daniel I have some news for you so please call me back Daniel deletes the voicemail.

Where the light was

Daniel I have some news for you so please call me back

Daniel deletes the voicemail.

You have not called me back Daniel and now it says your voicemail is full so I will text you instead to tell you to call me

Daniel sees the notification pop up just under the last missed call from Max. That's five calls now since the last time Daniel swept the notifications away.

He doesn't want to talk to Max. He doesn't want to talk to anyone. He turns the volume down to nothing and switches vibrate off.

Sometimes he'll look at the phone on the coffee table and see the screen light up with another message, another call, another notification. He doesn't pick his phone up. Eventually they'll stop.

I need to tell you something daniel and I can see your read receipts are on so text me back

Daniel googles 'how to turn read receipts off'. He follows the instructions. He's okay. He just— there's a lot going on. It's complicated. There are lawyers. Contracts to unravel. Partnerships to end. He's tired. There isn't a space for racing and people who race in his life right now. It's a door he's got to close for his own survival.

You have turned your read receipts off but you are still not texting me back and it is important daniel

Daniel doesn't call Max back. He doesn't call Max, he doesn't text him, he doesn't come back to Monaco, and he doesn't read or reply to his Instagram DMs.

He goes back to the farm. Someone takes over his inbox and sends him meeting invites to a new, private email and he shows up to them when he's required to. He runs a lot. Bikes a lot. Answers one message or one call from his parents per day, as agreed.

It's okay. He'll be okay. There's a whole world out there, a future that's just waiting for him. It's okay to close the curtains for a while, though. Know the world's out there waiting for him. When he's ready.

He's just not ready yet.

Scotty messages him to say that Chloe got asked by Lance who got asked by Max to make him get in touch. He texts Scotty back it's on my list.

There's a lot of stuff on his list. He calls his therapist. She's been waiting for him to get in touch. He books in two sessions, and gets out the yoga mat again. He stretches. He talks.

Max keeps on messaging him. They're all much the same. He hopes Daniel is okay. He wants to talk. Can Daniel call him back please.

Daniel doesn't have it in him to talk about racing. He doesn't have it in him to know that Max is carrying on when he's pulled off the track and won't be getting back on it. He knows Max deserves better.

He doesn't let himself think about that one night they spent together, the one where Daniel had been drowning in hope, in promises, in a future. He'd wanted more than just that one night. He'd wanted that future, the one he'd dreamed about, him and Max and racing and everything else.

It's all right that things end. It's the natural ebb and flow of life. He wouldn't have been racing forever, anyway. There would always have been a last race, a last season, a last car. His therapist tells him it's okay to have feelings about how it played out, though. Daniel has feelings. He's mad, he's sad, he's disappointed and embarrassed and lost.

He doesn't want to get stuck as well as lost, though. He's always been an adventurer. There's always been something to reach for. He's just got to figure out what.

"You've got time," his therapist tells him. "You don't have to decide today."

That's good, Daniel thinks, because he's got no idea what's next.

His phone rings in the middle of the night. He answers blearily, without thinking. He'd turned the volume up after weeks of it being on silent. The ringer is so loud in the quiet of the night. He reaches for his lamp.

It's— it's Max. The angle's weird. He's holding his phone up to talk into it, but his eyes are closed like he hadn't realised he was FaceTiming, like he was just going to talk into the mic. He's lying down. That's a— that's one of those shitty medical beds like they have in the medical centre trackside, complete with the shitty tearaway paper sheets. It's Brazil weekend and that's a medical bed.

Daniel's heart pounds.

He has to tune back into what Max is saying: "—There is a baby, Daniel. Our little baby. I tried and I tried to tell you. I didn't tell anyone else but now they will be finding out. I don't know if it is me that is not well or if it is the baby. I want it to be me."

Daniel says, "Max?"

Max opens his eyes. He looks exhausted and pale and washed out and ill. He touches his thumb to Daniel's face through the phone screen.

"Max," Daniel says again.

"I don't feel well," Max says. "They are taking me to hospital."

"Max," Daniel says.

"Our little baby won a race," Max says. "I am going now."

The phone goes fucking dead.

Daniel calls him back. It goes unanswered. He calls again. Unanswered.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

Daniel googles. He calls Max, over and over, but there's no answer. He reads peoples tweets and reddit posts about Max's win, about his fourth world championship, about him supposedly being ill and needing help out of the car and the weird, disjointed way he'd looked on the podium, not even picking up his champagne bottle, and how someone had come to offer Max help off the podium and down the stairs. The rumours and the news of him being taken to the medical centre, and then to hospital. He turns the TV on then off again. Dawn comes. Daylight. A new day. He messages Max. Nothing.

Then: I am coming to Perth. We will need to go to a baby doctor.

Daniel sits down. What the fuck. A baby. Their baby? A baby. All this time, a baby.

A call from his parents. He answers it hoping that it's Max, then he has to try and explain that Max is coming to them. Has to ask them how to find a baby doctor. There are calls to Blake, to someone who might know something, texts to people Daniel hadn't wanted to talk to ever again. Eventually, someone in Raymond's office. A time. Details of where Max's jet will be landing. Questions about whether Daniel will meet him or if alternative arrangements have to be made.

The whole time Daniel feels like he's having an out of body experience. He goes to his parents' place and they look at him with the same confusion and concern as is probably mirrored on Daniel's face. Knowing Max discharged himself. That he's flying across the world when he should still be in hospital in Brazil. It's too much. They're going to come meet Max's plane with him. They're going to drive.

"Jesus," Daniel says, when he sees Max, who's barely managing to stand. He's never seen Max look anything like this bad. Pale and weak and exhausted and touching his stomach, where there's a baby. Where there is their baby. God, maybe he misunderstood. Don't get hopeful. Don't wish for anything. He might have got it wrong.

He trails his parents to the car. He's trying to catalogue everything that's different about Max. He has to help Max get into the back of the car. Has to help him with his seatbelt. His hands shake.

Max looks at him. He says, "The baby is okay, Daniel, they said so. I am just tired."

Daniel says, "You're a real fucking idiot, Max," and he can't help but hold on to Max's hand really fucking tight as his mum tells them they're going to the hospital.

Max doesn't argue. He looks like there's nothing holding him together but willpower. "I thought you would like it if the baby was born here," he says. "I was picking a place for the baby to be born and I thought you would like it if it was here."

Daniel is going to fucking sob. He's going to break down and cry.

Max shakes his head. "You didn't answer your phone. I kept trying."

"I'm sorry," Daniel says. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't be anywhere where racing was. I didn't know it was more important."

"I told the baby you would love them but you just needed to know about it." He leans his head back against the head rest.

It's too much. It's another thing he's failed at. He should have answered Max's calls. He should have known it wasn't about racing, that it was more important, that Max needed him. That there was a baby, their baby, and Max was trying to tell him.

The punishment, Daniel supposes, is finding out like this.

Daniel holds Max's hand the whole way to the hospital.

[fatkish]

hashiras x child reader 12 year old girl who is a soldier with impressive combat skills, she knows a lot about firearms, she is a good strategist, for hand-to-hand combat, and she has too much strength for a 12 year old girl, her personality is somewhat proud and arrogant and enthusiastic like gabi braun from snk You may have met her during a mission in a military camp preparing and training. I really can't think of any other way they could have met her.

(I hope you don’t mind, I saw that you had sent @petitelepus the same request so I wanted to change it up just a little bit to it’s not exactly the same. Instead of being like Gabi Braun, I’m going to make her similar to Killua Zoldyck from HxH)

Hashiras x Child Soldier Reader

Your family has long since known about the existence of demons. One of your ancestors had learned about breathing styles and was previously a shinobi. After facing against demons and accessing their strength and abilities, he realized that humans needed lots of training in order to fight demons and survive . As soon as he had children he began training each to resist extreme pain by torture of all sorts, training them to be resistant to poison, he taught them how to kill. Generations went by and steadily, your family became increasingly stronger.

From the moment you were born, you were trained. You’re parents would often capture weaker demons and bring them back for you and your siblings to fight. Each child fought alone against a demon. Often times your parents would target demons that used poisons and particularly troubling blood demon arts. As you grew older, the demons you fought would be stronger and stronger. When you were nine, your parents managed to capture a lower moon and they made you face it. It took you hours but eventually you fought and killed it. After that, your parents captured 20 demons and locked them up, starving them before sending you in against them.

Your family’s main house is located on an island off of Japan. Your family makes sure that they are well hidden from demons so that Muzan doesn’t find them. Your family takes on assassinations, escorting people, espionage, etc. and receives money from it. Your family often steals the swords of fallen demon slayers and brings them back to your family’s blacksmith to reforge. When you were 12 you left your family and Kagaya’s crows caught sight of you and lead him to you. You had never been treated lovingly or kindly, and you were stunned by how kind Kagaya was.

Kagaya understood that your lifestyle didn’t give you the ability to understand morals and ethics. He saw how skilled you were and decided to ask you to join the corps. You felt so at peace with him and told him everything you’ve been through. Despite knowing that you’ve killed people, he happily welcomed you into the corps. He made you a Hashira and introduced you to the others. The other Hashira were skeptical about you at first. But as they got to know you better they realized that you weren’t such a bad person and that you were a victim of your family. Their thoughts on you are as follows:

Sanemi Shinazugawa:

If I ever see that kid’s parents I’m going run my fist right through their faces. Who the hell puts their kids through torture and forces them to fight demons? The kid is pretty strong and has decent talent, I won’t lie, but that’s no excuse for what those bastards put their kids through. (He deeply respects you and often checks in on you to see how you’re doing but he never admits that he does it out of concern, he’s always got some kind of excuse)

Kyojuro Rengoku:

I’ll admit, while I’m not thrilled about the fact that the kid has killed people, I cannot blame them for not understanding how precious life is when they were never taught it. However, I am proud that they have chosen to leave their past behind and fight to protect lives instead of taking them. They are very strong and it disgusts me what their parents put them through but nevertheless, I am happy to take them under my wing and teach them.

Obanai Iguro:

Despite our similarities we are incredibly different. Both of our families have too much blood on their hands but unlike me, the kid doesn’t believe that they are tainted by their blood. While it sickens me that they can kill people so easily, I do understand that they can’t be blamed for taking life when they were never truly taught right from wrong. The kid’s morals are severely skewed but they are trying to change which is what matters.

Tengen Uzui:

The kid and I often talk about life experiences and how different things are now that we’re both not living under our family’s thumbs. We both went through similar training as children and while they might not have had to kill their siblings, they did lose some to the training the went through. My wives love the kid and often dote on them. Whenever the kid doesn’t understand something they often come to me to explain things, and of course, as the god of festivals, I’ve taken them to plenty of festivals and showed them how to enjoy them.

Giyuu Tomioka:

They talk to me which is nice. They enjoy sparring with me and we often have tea and sit in silence together which is also nice. I didn’t know how to feel about the kid at first, but after talking to them and spending time with them, I learned that they aren’t a bad person. They’re strong and they want to use that strength to protect people instead of harming them. I enjoy their company.

Muichiro Tokito:

Oh, them? Why does it matter that they’re close to my age? They do make for a decent sparring partner though. I can’t remember but something tells me that they did bad things in their past. Whatever, I can’t remember so I guess it doesn’t matter.

Shinobu Kocho:

They kind of remind me of Kanao in a way. While it is a shame that they were raised the way they were, there isn’t anything that can be done about the past. Although it is concerning how often they come to me covered in wounds from battle that they didn’t notice. Sometimes I wonder if they truly didn’t notice their many wounds or if they just put up with the wounds until they became too numerous and troublesome. I often have to scold them for their reckless disregard for their health, but otherwise they’re a good kid.

Mitsuri Kanroji:

It just breaks my heart to hear what all they suffered through. I can’t imagine a parent doing such things to their own children. I have made it my personal goal to make sure that they know what it is to love and be loved. They’re so cute I often forget how strong they are. They’re so sweet to me and they don’t even think it’s weird how much I eat or how strong I am.

Gyomei Himejima:

It truly saddens me to know that they have taken the lives of their fellow humans. Even though they were taught to kill and nothing else, they still wish to do good with what they know. I pray the gods have mercy on this child’s soul when they die, though they have slain others, they did not know any better. Despite their wrong doings, they are actively trying to repent for their deeds by doing good which is admirable. They often come to me to seek guidance in regards to the moral and ethical dilemmas they face. I will do my utmost best to guide them.

[bwat5-blog]

A Return To Our Regularly Scheduled Progamming

*Arcane Spoilers*

I have certainly been getting sucked in being angry at people who don’t appreciate what we were given in this incredible story lately. And though I’m sure it will happen again as I am in fact a grouchy,sleep deprived ,cave dwelling people avoider. That isn’t why I came here. But! For now, just a quick thought I got excited by. Not a ton of detail here, just some of my favorite moments for a few of our characters.

Jinx- This moment was beautiful. I know a huge part of the story is she and Vi learning who each other are now. But I think this moment shows Jinx starting to believe there is something good in her

Vi- yea yea not for THAT reason. It’s because Vi FINALLY chooses her own happiness in the face of Caitlyn’s complete love and acceptance of her.

Caitlyn- the one i mentioned above was huge for Cait. But all my ranting recently aside I just want to say this. With her money and authority Caitlyn had every resource she needed if she wanted to abandon Piltover to its fate or even just not fight. There wasn’t a single person who force her to do otherwise. Instead she literally put her life on the line and sacrificed her eye to set things right.

Silco- listen. I’ve had many an unkind word for this man and his relationship with Jinx. But his last act was to comfort the daughter he loved all other circumstances aside and that deserves recognition.

Jayce- to say this man went through a lot is a tad bit of an understatement. But his respect, conviction and love for Mel and the matter of fact way he said this in her moment of doubt was fantastic

Mel- It’s probably the simple answer. But god I loved this. The life long politician putting herself on the line for her people even again her own mother. And you have to think she feels some responsibility toward Caitlyn to help her after everything and she literally saves her life.

Vander- god this was so sweet and sad when it all went wrong. He is not a man of words like Silco, but in this moment when vi tried to give herself for the family not only does Vander protect her but tells her how proud he is, and to keep her big heart that will drive her the rest of the show.

Ekko- Lets be clear. Ekko saved the damn world. But this entrance off the top of Jinx’s balloon was SO. COOL.

Vi & Jinx- I know. I know there is still SO MUCH pain after this for them including between each other. The reason I love this moment though is because you see that pure unobstructed love for each other before all that other horse shit ruins it. Vi immediately apologies and reassures Jinx. Jinx immediately accepts the hug and starts crying. They never stopped loving each-other. But the world made it so damn hard.

Anyway see ya later!

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat; Chapter 21: Her Life.

Parings: Wednesday x Fem reader. Wordcount: 3.5k-ish?

Summary: It's time.

Warnings: Angst. That's it, brace yourselves.

Chapter 1 ------- Previous Chapter

Her Heartbeat's Chapterlist.

Worklist

“I want to try the surgery.”

You had said that, to Wednesday.

It wasn’t just the words, it was the way you said them. Firm, steady, like a decision carved into stone. Like no amount of reasoning, no number of planned arguments could sway you.

Wednesday had tried. She had tried with everything she had to make you understand. To make you see.

“You don’t have to do this,” she had said, her voice low but trembling with a rare desperation. “There are other options. Better ones. I can find you a replacement heart. I’ll do whatever it takes. You just have to let me—”

You’d cut her off, shaking your head with that infuriatingly gentle expression that made her feel like you were the one comforting her.

“I don’t want a replacement heart, Wednesday.”

Her fists clenched at her sides, her nails biting into her palms.

“That’s ridiculous,” she hissed. “Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t a matter of want. It’s a matter of necessity. Your heart is failing, Y/N. Do you understand what that means?”

“It means I’m dying, Wednesday. I know that.”

Something inside her cracked at your words, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she pressed forward, her voice rising. “Then why won’t you let me help you? Why won’t you even consider—”

“Because I don’t want someone else’s heart!” Your voice, normally so calm, had risen, “I don’t want to take that chance away from someone, to take a heart that someone else might need more than I do. Someone who could have a long, healthy life ahead of them. Someone who deserves it more.”

“You think you don’t deserve it?”

You looked at her then, your eyes filled with a sadness that made her want to scream.

“It’s not about that,” you said quietly. “I want my heart to work perfectly fine. I want to try and fix what I already have. I don’t want to rely on someone else’s sacrifice to keep me alive.”

“That’s… that’s absurd.” She stumbled over the words, her composure slipping further. “You’re gambling with your life for some misplaced sense of…of morality? You think this is noble, but it’s selfish!”

Your eyes widened slightly at her words, and for the first time in the conversation, you looked hurt. “Selfish?” you echoed, your voice quieter now.

“Yes, selfish!” Wednesday snapped, her voice breaking. “Because you’re not the only one affected by this. You’re not the only one who will lose if this surgery fails. Did you even think about that? Did you think about me?”

“Wednesday…”

“No!” she interrupted, her voice trembling. “You don’t care. You don’t care what this will do to me. If you did, you wouldn’t even be considering this. You’re so focused on what you think is right that you’re not thinking about the people who….who love you.”

There it was. The thing she hadn’t wanted to say but couldn’t stop from spilling out.

For a moment, you just stared at her, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, you shook your head. “That’s not fair,” you said softly. “You know that’s not true. I care about you, Wednesday. I care about you more than anything.”

“Then why won’t you let me save you?” Her voice cracked, and she hated how small it sounded. How vulnerable.

“Because it’s my life, Wednesday. My decision. And I need you to understand that.” you said, your voice steady again.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“You don’t care,” she had said finally, her voice cold and hollow. “You don’t care about me at all.”

The look on your face in that moment, shock, hurt, something deeper she couldn’t name, it had cut her deeper than she thought possible.

And now, standing in your dorm room the next night, You were on the balcony, bathed in moonlight, your arms resting on the railing as you stared out into the night.

Wednesday replayed those words over and over in her mind.

You don’t care about me at all.

It wasn’t true. She knew that. Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. But in her frustration, her fear, it had felt like the only way to make you see how much this was destroying her.

She hadn’t spoken to you all day. She didn’t know what to say, how to fix the mess she had made. She had just sat on the edge of her bed, her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped tightly around them.

She had replayed the fight over and over in her mind, dissecting every word, every look, every flicker of emotion on your face. The anger, the frustration, the hurt, it all twisted inside her like a knife.

When the sun set, and the moon rose, she had finally stood and made her way to your dorm.

You turned now, sensing her presence. Your eyes met hers, and you smiled softly, a gentle, tentative expression that only deepened the ache in her chest.

Wednesday stepped forward before she could think better of it, and when she stopped, she was only a few feet away from you. For a moment, she simply stood there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if trying to hold herself together.

“I… I shouldn’t have said what I did,” she finally admitted, her voice quiet but steady. It wasn’t easy for her to apologize, but she owed you this much. “It wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” you said, your expression softening.

“I’ve never felt fear before,” she began, her voice quieter now. “Not real fear. Not like this. But every time I think about losing you, it’s like… it’s like I can’t breathe. Like the ground is crumbling beneath me, and I can’t stop it.”

“Wednesday…”

She closed her eyes, her jaw clenching as she tried to hold herself together.

“I’m terrified,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “And I hate it. I hate feeling this way. But I can’t stop. Because I love you, and the thought of you, of you being gone, it’s more than I can handle. I’m scared of losing you. Of not being enough to keep you here.”

“You are enough,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “You’ve always been enough. But this… this is something I have to do for myself. And I need you with me, Wednesday. I need you to believe in me.”

She opened her eyes, her gaze locking with yours. For a long moment, she didn’t speak. Then, slowly, she nodded. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered. “But I’ll try. For you.”

You smiled, your hand tightening around hers. “That’s all I need.”

Wednesday stepped closer, her free hand reaching up to cup your face. You leaned into her touch, your eyes brimming with tears. And as you stood there, under the moonlight, holding each other close, Wednesday felt something shift inside her. The fear was still there, gnawing at her, but for the first time, it didn’t feel quite so suffocating.

You had called your dad the next day and told him about your decision. He had tried to make you understand the risks too. He had argued, pleaded, tried to reason with you. But in the end, he couldn’t say no. He never could say no to you.

And now it was happening; A week.

A week was all she had left with you before you’d be admitted to the hospital for the surgery that had haunted her thoughts since the moment you said you wanted to try it.

Seven days that felt like grains of sand slipping through her fingers, no matter how tightly she tried to hold on. Like a cruel countdown in her mind, each one ticking away faster than the last. Every moment spent with you felt stolen.

What if this was all the time she had left with you? What if…? No. She couldn’t finish that thought. Wouldn’t.

Instead, she planned.

She had taken you to your special place. The fireflies blinked softly around you. She had borrowed Enid’s music box, and Thing had been enlisted to set the mood.

Wednesday’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, a rare and precious thing. “It seems we have a habit of leaving things unfinished, but not this time.”

You turned back to look at her, confused.

“Dance with me,” Wednesday said.

You smiled, that smile that always made her feel like the world was just a little less terrible, and took her outstretched hand.

The rhythm was slow, intimate, as the two of you swayed in the soft glow of fireflies. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and intense, yet unguarded. She felt a weight settle in her chest. But it wasn’t the suffocating kind she had grown used to. It was different, warmer.

She thought of the Raven, of how that moment had been stolen from her. But now, here, with nothing but the soft music and the glow of fireflies around you, she didn’t feel robbed. She felt… whole.

The fireflies drifted lazily around you, their light catching in your hair as the two of you swayed. Wednesday’s eyes never left yours. She could feel it, your heartbeat against her own.

The sand beneath her boots was irritating her in a way that beaches always did. But now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Wednesday found that she didn’t care.

You stood beside her, your hand brushing against hers. She wasn’t focused on the way it stuck to everything or how the salty breeze stung her skin. All she felt was the warmth of your presence, and it was enough to make her forget everything else.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you asked, your voice soft, almost reverent.

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes fixed on the horizon. “It’s acceptable,” she replied, her tone even. “Though I fail to see how the gradual disappearance of a celestial body could evoke such sentimentality.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of life, and it sent a strange pang through her chest. “You didn't have to ruin the moment with logic, Wednesday.”

She glanced at you then and didn't bother to hide her smile anymore. Just you, just for you.

The music continued to play as you danced, Wednesday’s hands rested on your waist, her touch careful, almost hesitant, as if she were afraid you might break beneath her fingers.

She studied your face, every detail, every line and curve, committing it to memory as if she were afraid it might disappear.

She looked into your eyes and felt it, the world fading away.

There was so much she wanted to tell you, so much she wanted to show you. But the words felt too big, too heavy to say out loud.

“I wish I could stop time,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Why?”

“So I could stay here,” she admitted, her gaze never leaving yours. “With you.”

Your smile faltered slightly, and you reached up to cup her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, Wednesday,” you said softly.

Wednesday stayed where she was, her arms crossed over her chest, watching you as you ran toward the waves, laughing as the water lapped at your toes.

You turned back to her, “Come on, Wends! Live a little!”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t move, content to watch as you splashed in the shallows.

For a moment, she let herself imagine a different reality. One where you weren’t facing an impossible decision. One where you were both standing here, on this beach, without the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders.

But reality came crashing back, as it always did.

Your head rested lightly against her shoulder, and Wednesday felt the soft flutter of your breath against her neck. It was unbearable, this closeness. And yet, it was the only thing she wants to last forever.

She glanced at one of the blue butterflies fluttering nearby,

Save a life.

She still didn’t know what that wish on your list had meant. But right now, none of it mattered. All she cared about was you. Holding you. Dancing with you. Just this once. Just this lifetime.

The stars were out and you were lying on the grass beside her, your hand resting lightly against hers.

“Dad told me something interesting today,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hm?”

“He was planning to sell the old house to help pay for the surgery.”

Wednesday turned her head slightly to look at you, She didn’t like the idea of you losing something so important, something tied to the memories you held so close. That's why she did it.

“But,” you continued, a hint of amusement in your voice, “the bank called him this morning. Apparently, he won some kind of giveaway. Enough money to cover what he was missing.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked back to the stars, her expression carefully neutral. She didn’t say anything, but a faint flicker of satisfaction warmed her chest.

“Pretty lucky, huh?” you said, your tone teasing as if you suspected something.

“Extremely,” she replied, her voice as flat as ever.

The music was slowing now, the final notes were saying their goodbyes. But Wednesday didn’t care. She didn’t need music to hold you like this, to memorize the feel of you in her arms and the way your smile lit up the night.

Wednesday held you close, her arms wrapped around you as though she could shield you from everything—the world, the future, even death itself.

“You’ll always have me, you know,” you murmured,

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Here,” you said, gesturing around you. “In our special place. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.”

The weight of your words hit her like a tidal wave, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. “Don’t talk like that,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I’m not trying to upset you,” you said gently. “I just want you to know that this place will always be ours.”

She didn’t respond, couldn’t find the words. Instead, she leaned in, capturing your lips. It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss; it was fervent and almost bruising, filled with everything she couldn’t put into words. Her lips moved against yours with a kind of urgency that bordered on desperation, as if pouring every unspoken fear, every unyielding desire, into this single moment.

You kissed her back just as fiercely, your hands sliding up to cup her face, your thumbs brushing away tears she hadn’t even realized were falling.

You and her. Just you an her.

All the pain, the longing, the love—it was all there, laid bare between the two of you.

When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against yours again, her breath uneven. Your hands stayed on her cheeks, your touch grounding her in a way nothing else could.

“I’m not leaving,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “Not in the way you think.”

She closed her eyes tightly, her jaw clenching as she fought against the tears.

“You don’t know that,” she said, her voice barely audible. “You can’t promise that.”

You smiled softly, “Maybe not. But I can promise you this—I’ll always be with you, Wednesday. In our place, in your memories, in everything we’ve shared. I’m not going anywhere from them.”

Wednesday’s breath hitched, her resolve crumbling as she nodded, unable to find the words to express everything she felt. She kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second, every taste, every feeling. It wasn’t about desperation anymore—it was about love, raw and unfiltered, spilling out between the two of you.

Just one lifetime. Just one lifetime with you. It wasn’t enough, but it was all she could ask for.

It didn’t feel real.

The week had come and gone. She thought she would feel every excruciating second leading up to this moment, every tick of the clock as a weight pressing harder and harder on her chest.

But now, standing here, staring at the sterile white walls of the hospital, it felt as if the time had been stolen from her.

Seven days? No, it hadn’t been seven days, it had been seven minutes, barely enough time to breathe. How could it be time already? How could it be now?

Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, the faint tremble in her fingers betraying the storm raging inside her. She had spent the entire week trying to prepare herself, to convince herself she could handle this. She had tried to keep her composure, to hold onto that cold, unshakable demeanor she had perfected over the years.

But now, standing here, all of that armor felt meaningless. You were going into surgery. And there was absolutely nothing she could do to protect you.

“I love you,” you had whispered, your voice barely audible “Forever.”

Forever. A concept that felt foreign, hollow, when she knew forever was slipping through her fingers. She clung to your hand as if holding on tight enough might root you to this world, to her.

But then you were gone, taken through the double doors, your hand slipping from hers with a finality that left her rooted to the floor.

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words lodged themselves in her throat, refusing to come out. She wanted to scream, to demand that you stop, to beg you not to go in there, not to leave her. Instead, She didn’t move, didn’t follow, didn’t breathe. The waiting room seemed impossibly far away, her limbs heavy as if she’d been chained to the spot. Enid’s gentle hand on her shoulder barely registered.

Your father sat across from her, his face pale and drawn, his hands shaking as he gripped a cup of coffee he hadn’t touched. To her left, Enid was biting her nails that she loved so much, her eyes darting nervously toward the clock on the wall. Bianca, Yoko, Eugene—everyone was here.

Even David and a few others from the therapy group had shown up, showing how deeply you had touched their lives.

But Wednesday felt utterly alone.

Wednesday couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. She stood there, still as a statue, her dark eyes locked on the door that separated her from you. Her mind replayed every moment, every word you’d shared, every look, every touch.

Your smile, the way it lit up the darkest corners of her soul.

Your laugh, the sound that melted the ice in her chest.

Your words, soft and teasing, but always filled with warmth.

And your love. Your relentless, unyielding love, the kind she had never believed herself worthy of.

She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms. “Come back to me,” she whispered, the plea falling from her lips like a prayer. She wasn’t one to beg, wasn’t one to ask for anything from the universe. But for you, she’d do anything. For you, she’d ask.

Four hours and fourteen minutes.

That’s how long it had been since they took you. Wednesday didn’t know how she knew the exact time; perhaps it was her body’s cruel way of keeping her tethered to the agony of waiting.

And then it hit her.

Save a life

It wasn’t about her at all. It was never about her.

The blue butterfly wasn’t reaching for the black one.

It was the other way around.

The black butterfly, battered and misunderstood, had stretched its wings toward the fragile blue one, desperate to keep it from fading.

You had wanted her to see it all along. That she wasn’t the monster she so often believed herself to be. That she wasn’t destined to destroy everything she touched.

It was about her saving you.

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and she didn't fight them, she was tired of fighting them. She let them fall, silent streaks down her pale cheeks as she stood there, staring at the doors, willing them to open.

And then they did.

[So this is it huh? The next chapter will be the final one.]

Taglist: @ognenniyvolk @mally-ka @protozoario @machyishere @freakshow2501 @101rizzlrr

[sherewrytes]

Love and Gunshots, Eren x Black Reader

Gang member Eren x Introvert black reader

Summary: In a dangerous urban landscape, y/n, an introverted Criminal Law student, finds herself drawn into the violent world of the Sixx Gang through her protective cousin, Onyankopon. When she locks eyes with Eren Yeager, a hot-headed gang member, a twisted game of desire and danger begins.

As Eren becomes obsessed with y/n, he threatens to unravel the fragile balance Ony has maintained to shield her from their brutal lifestyle. With loyalty tested and violence lurking at every turn, the lines between love and danger blur, leading to a dark climax where the heart proves just as lethal as a gun.

Genre: Dark Romance/Crime Modern au

Warnings: Graphic violence, drug use, smut, obsession

Previous

Chapter 8: Breaking point

I felt numb as Erwin led me out of the room, away from the chaos. My mind was racing, still trying to process everything I had just witnessed. The last few hours felt like a blur—one moment I was dealing with the shock of seeing Eren and Ony so close to killing each other, and the next, I was being dragged into a hell I never signed up for.

I glanced over at Erwin, who kept a steady pace, his presence calming despite everything around us. The weight of the situation settled deeper into my chest as I realized how much danger I was in, how much I had been pulled into this world of violence, drugs, and lies.

Erwin stopped outside the door of the warehouse, looking back toward me. His eyes softened slightly as he spoke. "You’re safe for now, Yn. I need you to stay away from this mess. For your own good."

I swallowed hard, the words not reaching me fully. Safe? How could I feel safe when I knew my life was tangled up with these people? When I knew what was happening back inside, what might be happening to Ony, to Eren... to me?

"I don’t belong here," I whispered, more to myself than to Erwin. "None of this is my fight."

Erwin gave me a look, his lips pulling into a tight line. "It’s not your fight, but it’s been made yours. Now, you need to be smart. Don’t let yourself get dragged deeper than you already are."

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I could keep that promise. The pull of this world, of Eren and Ony, felt like a gravitational force I couldn’t resist, no matter how hard I tried. But I had to try.

Erwin sighed, looking around cautiously before turning back to me. "I’ll take you home, but you stay low. Don’t reach out to them. Not now."

I opened my mouth to say something but stopped myself. What was there to say? That I was scared? That I didn’t know how to escape? Instead, I just nodded again, more to him than anyone else. I had no other choice.

As Erwin started the car and we pulled away from the warehouse, I glanced at my phone, a mix of texts from Ony, from Eren, from people I didn’t even know. And yet, none of them mattered as much as what was happening right now. How much farther could I go before it all shattered?

And then the thought hit me: What would happen if I did choose a side? Would it save me or destroy me?

When the car pulled up to my house, my heart sank as I saw my mom and aunt standing by the door, their expressions serious. But it was the figure beside them that made my stomach drop—my father. I hadn't seen him in years, and the last time I did, things were far from good between us.

I stepped out of the car, still in shock. "What is he doing here?" I muttered to myself, though the question was clear. I didn't expect him to be a part of this situation, especially not after all this time.

My mom looked at me, her face strained with worry. "Yn, your father wants to talk to you. We... we need to figure out what’s going on. This situation is dangerous, and—"

"You really think I want to be involved in this?!" I cut her off, the frustration bubbling over. "I didn't ask for any of this! I don't need his help now!"

My father stepped forward, his face hardened but there was a glimmer of something in his eyes—concern? Guilt? I couldn’t tell. "Yn, we need to talk. About everything," he said, his voice low but firm.

I took a step back, shaking my head. I hadn’t prepared for this. Not today. Not with everything that had happened, with the chaos, the violence, the lies. "What’s there to talk about?" I shot back. "You’ve been gone for years. You don’t get to come back now and act like everything’s fine."

My father’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced at my mom and aunt, as if silently asking for permission to continue. My aunt was quiet, her eyes scanning me with a mix of sympathy and concern, while my mom stood by, wringing her hands nervously.

I wasn’t sure how to feel anymore. The weight of the past few hours, the violence I had seen, the decisions that had been made without my consent—it was all crashing down on me. And now, my father... He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t make it go away.

“I’m not part of this world, Dad,” I finally said, my voice breaking. "I don’t know what you think you’re here to fix, but I’m not going back to any of it."

My father opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. I could see the frustration in his eyes, but there was something else there, too. Regret, maybe. But it didn’t matter now. He wasn’t going to be able to change anything, not when everything had already spiraled so far out of control.

I turned away from him, walking inside, hoping the distance would help me clear my head

"My dad glanced at me, his face unreadable, before asking, 'Is Levi running shit?'

I froze at the mention of Levi's name, my heart skipping a beat as my dad described him in that all-too-familiar way. It was like the world had shifted again. "Excuse me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. My dad's eyes narrowed at me, his tone stern.

"Short guy, white, temper—shorter than he is..." My father continued, his gaze flicking to the car still parked outside.

My mother, who had been standing in the background, sighed in resignation. "Yes, that’s the man who was here earlier," she said, sounding almost defeated.

I turned to look at my mom, then back at the car, and that’s when I saw it. Erwin. He’d opened the door and stepped out, strolling over to my dad like it was no big deal. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my mind was racing. This was impossible.

"Erwin, get yuh mother cunt out here, man." My dad’s words were harsh, but there was something about the way he spoke that made me feel like I was missing a huge part of this story.

Erwin didn’t even seem phased. He just walked up to my dad like they were old friends, a casual smile on his face. "Reggie, what’s good?" he said as if it were any other day.

This was a nightmare. I couldn’t process it. I had known Erwin for years, sure. But him being connected to my dad, to them, this—this was a whole different level. My world felt like it was turning upside down, and I couldn’t breathe for a second.

What the hell was going on here?

I stood there, completely frozen, unable to speak, as I watched my dad and Erwin interact. The realization slowly dawned on me: this wasn’t just some random group of criminals I had gotten involved with. It was bigger. So much bigger. My father knew them—had worked with them. Erwin knew my father. I was in deeper than I’d ever realized, and I had no idea what to do next.

Was I even safe anymore?

I stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to believe what was unfolding before me. My dad and Erwin talked like old friends catching up after years apart, completely ignoring the turmoil brewing inside me.

Erwin reached into his pocket, pulled out a joint, and passed it to my dad like it was a regular Sunday afternoon. "Like old times," Erwin said with a smirk.

My dad took it without hesitation, lighting it up and taking a long drag. The way they were so casual about it all made my stomach churn. How could he sit here and act like this when my life was spiraling out of control?

"So, what’s the deal with Ony?" my dad asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I hear his name mixed up in this mess."

Erwin raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the car. "What’s the deal with Jarmark?" he shot back.

My dad rolled his eyes, his tone heavy with frustration. "He’s in jail, Erwin. You know this."

Erwin’s gaze shifted to me, and my heart sank. The look he gave me wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t comforting, either. It was assessing, like he was trying to figure out what I’d do next. "Reggie," Erwin started, turning back to my dad, "she’s on Levi’s radar. And you know he’s crazy as fuck."

That statement hit like a sledgehammer. I clenched my fists, fighting the wave of panic threatening to take over.

"On Levi’s radar?" my dad repeated, his face darkening. He looked at me then, his eyes narrowing as if seeing me in a new light. "What the hell did you get yourself into, girl?"

I opened my mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. How was I supposed to explain? That I hadn’t gotten into anything? That it was all Eren? That I was just trying to live my life, but these men kept pulling me into their chaos? My dad wouldn’t care. To him, it wouldn’t matter how it happened, only that it had.

"Don’t look at her like that," Erwin said, flicking ash from his joint. "This ain’t her fault. Blame your nephew and that stubborn-ass Jaeger kid for dragging her into this."

"Jaeger?" my dad muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. He shook his head and took another drag. "I should’ve known. Levi’s favorite little psychopath."

"Exactly," Erwin replied. "And now she’s in the middle of it. Levi’s been watching her like a hawk. You know how he gets when he sets his sights on something."

My dad cursed under his breath, pacing in front of the house. He stopped abruptly, pointing at Erwin. "You tell Levi to back off. That’s my daughter, and I won’t let him use her to settle his shit."

Erwin shrugged, his expression neutral. "You think I control Levi? If I could stop him from being Levi, the world would be a better place."

I couldn’t hold back anymore. "What does he want from me?" I snapped, my voice shaking. "Why can’t you all just leave me alone?"

Both men turned to me, my dad looking surprised while Erwin simply raised an eyebrow. My dad stepped closer, his tone softening slightly. "You’re mixed up in something bigger than you know, baby girl. I’ll fix this. Don’t worry."

His words were meant to be reassuring, but they felt like a lie. How could he fix this when he was part of the same world that was tearing my life apart?

My mom’s voice cut through the tension like a razor. "How exactly do you plan on fixing this, Reggie?" she asked, arms crossed, her glare sharp enough to cut steel.

My dad sighed, rolling his eyes in irritation. "I told you to keep her out of this neighborhood," he shot back. "You didn’t listen, and now I gotta clean up a mess I didn’t even start."

"Don’t you dare put this on me!" my mom snapped, stepping forward. "You’ve been absent for years, and now you wanna play the blame game? No, Reggie. This is on you, too."

They locked eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink around their argument. I wanted to disappear, to pretend I wasn’t standing there listening to my parents argue over my life as if I wasn’t even present.

Erwin, leaning casually against the car, watched the exchange with a bemused expression. My dad turned to him abruptly, his frustration spilling over. "Where the fuck is Ony’s ass, anyway?" he demanded.

Erwin shrugged, taking another drag of his joint. "He’s with Levi," he said nonchalantly. "Handling the aftermath of all this bullshit."

My dad frowned, his jaw tightening. "Handling it how? What’s that short bastard doing to him?"

Erwin smirked, but there was no humor in it. "What Levi always does—making sure no one steps out of line again. Ony’s in it deep, Reggie. You might wanna have a word with your nephew before Levi does something permanent."

I felt my stomach drop at his words. The thought of Ony suffering because of this made my chest ache. Despite everything, Ony had always tried to protect me, even if it meant sacrificing his own peace.

"You better not let Levi go too far," my dad warned, pointing a finger at Erwin. "That boy may be my nephew, but he’s still blood. I won’t let Levi take things too far."

Erwin chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "You don’t let Levi do anything, Reggie. You know that better than anyone. The best thing you can do is stay out of his way and hope he doesn’t decide Ony’s too much of a liability."

My mom gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Reggie, do something! You can’t just let this happen."

"I’m working on it," my dad snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Damn, woman, give me a minute to think!"

I wanted to scream at all of them, to tell them to stop talking about me and Ony like we were chess pieces in their game. But I stayed silent, my heart pounding as I tried to process everything.

Erwin finally stood up straight, tossing the joint onto the ground and stomping it out with his boot. "If you’re serious about fixing this, Reggie, you better move fast. Levi’s patience is already razor-thin."

He glanced at me, his gaze softening just slightly. "You might wanna stay out of sight for a while, kid. Things are gonna get uglier before they get better."

With that, he turned and walked back to the car, leaving me standing there with my parents and a thousand questions swirling in my head.

Ony’s mom started pacing the yard, her hands wringing as she muttered under her breath. “My son... turning out just like his father,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought I raised him better. I thought—”

“Stop it,” my dad, Reggie, cut her off, his tone sharp. “This ain’t the time for this.” He turned to me, his intense gaze pinning me in place. “Tell me, Y/N. Why? How the hell did you even meet this boy, Eren?”

I froze, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. My dad stepped closer, his voice quieter but no less commanding. “Answer me. How’d you meet him?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “It was on the porch... here,” I admitted reluctantly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Reggie’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at me like I’d just confessed to a crime. “This porch? Right here?”

I nodded. “Yes... I had just come back from class. Ony was out here... smoking with Eren.” I hesitated, unsure if I should continue.

“And?” Reggie pressed, crossing his arms over his chest. “What else?”

I glanced at my mom, who looked as if she wanted to interject but didn’t. I took a deep breath and finished, “They were cleaning guns.”

The yard went deathly silent. My dad’s expression darkened as he took in my words, his jaw clenching. Ony’s mom froze mid-step, her hands flying to her head. “Cleaning guns?!” she shrieked. “In front of my house?!”

Reggie held up a hand to stop her, his eyes never leaving mine. “So you saw him, what? Thought he was charming? Thought he was a nice guy?” His voice was dripping with disbelief.

“I didn’t think anything at first!” I shot back, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “He was just... there. I didn’t know who he was or what he was about. Ony introduced us, and that was it.”

Reggie let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “That was it, huh? That was enough for you to get mixed up in all this shit?”

“It’s not like I asked for this!” I snapped, my voice rising. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Dad! I didn’t ask to be dragged into your world or Ony’s world or Eren’s world. I just... I just wanted to come home from school, and then—”

“And then you made a choice,” Reggie interrupted, his voice hard. “You chose to let him into your life. You chose to let him pull you into this mess.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “I didn’t know it would be like this,” I said quietly.

Reggie sighed, running a hand down his face. “Of course, you didn’t. None of you kids ever do. And now look at where we’re at. Ony’s in Levi’s crosshairs, Eren’s a damn loose cannon, and you’re... you’re caught in the middle of it all.”

My mom finally spoke up, her voice trembling. “Reggie, stop blaming her. She’s just a girl. She didn’t know—”

“She should’ve known better!” Reggie snapped, cutting her off. “But now it’s too late for that. The question is, how the hell are we gonna get her out of this?”

Reggie paced the yard, his frustration radiating off him in waves. He turned back to me, his finger pointed like a dagger. “You might live in the hood, Y/N, but you ain’t from it. Do you even know what kind of shit the 6ixx gang is up to? Do you even know where all this started?”

I stared at him, unsure how to answer. His words stung because they were true. I didn’t know the depths of it all—only fragments, bits and pieces from overheard conversations and Ony’s cryptic warnings.

Reggie tilted his head back, letting out a bitter laugh toward the night sky. “Lord Father, help me here tonight,” he muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath before looking back at me. “You think this is some petty beef, Y/N? Some schoolyard bullshit that’ll blow over? You’re playing with fire, girl. And the worst part is, you don’t even know how hot it burns.”

“Dad, I—”

“No,” he interrupted sharply. “You don’t get to talk. Not yet. Let me tell you what you’re tangled up in.” He gestured wildly toward the street, the porch, everything. “This ain’t just about Eren or Ony or whatever little drama you think this is. The 6ixx gang? They’re in deep—drugs, guns, money laundering, you name it. They don’t play fair, and they don’t forgive.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. The weight of his words settled on my chest like a brick.

Reggie continued, his voice rising. “And you? You’re just some college girl to them. You’re a pawn. A pretty little pawn they’ll use to get what they want. Do you understand that? They don’t care about you, Y/N. Not like I do. Not like your mom does.”

I glanced at my mom, who was standing silently to the side, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Reggie,” she started softly, but he wasn’t done.

“No, don’t ‘Reggie’ me,” he snapped, turning back to her before focusing on me again. “You think Levi gives a damn about your degree? About your future? He’ll chew you up and spit you out, just like he’s done with everyone else who’s crossed him. And Eren? He’s no better.”

I flinched at his harsh tone, tears prickling at my eyes again. “I didn’t ask for this,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“But you’re in it now,” Reggie shot back. “And you need to understand what’s at stake. This ain’t just about you anymore, Y/N. It’s about your family, your future—everything.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Eren's pov 

I was exhausted, every part of my body aching from the endless assault. The pain was sharp, brutal, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. All I could think about was Y/N—her face, her voice, her refusal to choose between me and anyone else. She was the only thing that kept me grounded in the chaos.

I stole a glance at Ony. He looked just as defeated as I felt. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes empty, like the fight had drained him of everything. I could feel his pain, the weight of everything that had led to this point. And then there was his mom—her reaction had hit me harder than I expected. The way she slapped him, the way she let him go so easily. She had always treated him like the problem, like he was the one who’d brought all this mess into their lives.

I didn’t get it. Ony was just trying to protect what was his, just like me. And yet, here we were, being punished for things that weren’t entirely our fault. I hated how she treated him, hated how she kept pushing him away when all he was trying to do was survive. The look in his eyes when she slapped him—it was a mixture of hurt and resignation. He wasn’t going to fight her anymore. But I wasn’t like him. I couldn’t let go. Not yet.

As I stared at him, I started to understand a little more of what drove him, what drove me. We were both stuck in this endless cycle, bound by loyalty, by love, by the need to control something in a world that constantly felt like it was slipping away. And Y/N... Y/N was that thing for me. She was my reason to keep fighting, even when everything else was falling apart.

Levi had been right about one thing—if she wasn’t part of my world, I’d have nothing left. But I couldn’t let that happen. Not with her. Not when I knew she was the only thing that could give me a sense of peace, even if it was fleeting.

The room was silent except for the occasional grunt or mutter. My head was pounding, but I couldn’t shake the thought that everything was spiraling. Levi had pushed me to my limit, and I had barely managed to hold onto my sanity.

I looked over at him, leaning against the wall with that smirk plastered on his face, like this was all a game. And maybe to him it was. But not to me. Not to Ony.

And especially not to Y/N. She deserved better than this mess. She deserved peace.

But I wasn’t sure I could give her that anymore. Not with how things were going.

Levi’s smug face made my blood boil, but I stayed quiet. I didn’t have the energy to snap back at him anymore, not when my body was already broken and my mind felt like it was teetering on the edge. I glanced at Ony again, his head hanging low. His silence was unnerving, and it made me wonder if he was giving up entirely.

But giving up wasn’t in me. Not yet. Not while Y/N was still out there, dragged into all this chaos because of me. Levi might’ve been trying to make a point, but I wasn’t about to let him win. Not when it came to her.

Levi finally stood straight, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “Well, this has been fun, but I think you two have had enough for today.” He turned to Reiner and Jean. “Get them cleaned up and back to their places. We’ve got bigger shit to deal with tomorrow.”

Reiner gave a curt nod and moved to grab me, but I pulled away, struggling to my feet. My legs felt like they were about to give out, but I wasn’t going to let them see me weak. Not now. Not ever.

Ony slowly stood too, his movements stiff and deliberate. He didn’t even look at me as Reiner helped him walk toward the door. I could feel the tension between us, thick and suffocating. We were both pissed—at Levi, at the situation, at each other. But there was something unspoken in the air, a shared understanding that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

As Jean shoved me forward, I couldn’t help but think about what Levi had said earlier—about Y/N being the source of all this chaos. It wasn’t true, not entirely. This wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I brought her into this world, made her a part of something she never asked to be part of. And now, she was paying the price for it.

When we got outside, the cool air hit me like a slap to the face. It felt like freedom, even if it was temporary. I looked up at the night sky, the stars barely visible through the city’s haze. For a moment, I let myself breathe, let myself feel the weight of everything that had happened.

Jean shoved me again, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Keep moving, Yeager. You’re lucky Levi didn’t put a bullet in you tonight.”

I didn’t respond. What was there to say? He was right. I was lucky. But luck wouldn’t last forever.

As we approached the cars, I caught sight of my reflection in the side mirror of Reiner’s jeep. The bruises, the dried blood, the swelling—it all stared back at me, a painful reminder of how far I’d fallen. My face didn’t even look like mine anymore, just a mess of pain and regret.

I stopped in my tracks for a moment, unable to tear my eyes away. The person staring back at me wasn’t the Eren Yeager I knew. He looked weak, broken, defeated—everything I swore I’d never be. It made my stomach turn, the bitter taste of failure sitting heavy on my tongue.

Jean noticed me lagging and shoved me hard. “Move it, Yeager. You don’t have time to admire yourself.”

I almost snapped at him but caught myself. What was the point? I had no fight left for Jean, for Reiner, for anyone. All I could think about was the reflection, the bruises, the way Levi’s words echoed in my head. You like breaking things, don’t you?

Maybe I did. Maybe I always had. But looking at myself now, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to put the pieces back together. The more I stared, the more the reflection felt like a stranger—someone I didn’t want to know, someone I didn’t want Y/N to see.

Reiner yanked open the jeep door, and Jean shoved me inside. The cold leather pressed against my back, and I leaned into it, closing my eyes to block out the reflection. It didn’t help. It was burned into my mind, just like everything else.

In the silence of the car, I could hear my own breathing, shallow and uneven. My ribs ached with every inhale, my arm throbbed with every beat of my heart, but none of it compared to the weight in my chest. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d already lost everything. And the worst part? It was all my fault.

I glanced at Ony sitting on the curb outside the warehouse, his head hanging low as he toyed with the gravel beneath his feet. He looked like a ghost of himself, a man who’d just been gutted and left to figure out how to piece himself back together. His shoulders were slouched, his usually sharp gaze now dulled, and I could tell the weight of everything that happened was crushing him.

I thought about his mom throwing him out, the slap she’d landed on him echoing in my mind. Sure, he had his own spot, but anyone could see being with his family meant something to him. He carried them in everything he did. It was obvious. Hell, it was probably why he’d even tried so hard to keep Y/N out of this mess in the first place.

For a second, a flicker of something like pity tried to surface in me. But I shoved it down as quickly as it came. I couldn’t feel sorry for him. Not when I was sitting here just as broken, just as beaten—physically and mentally. And definitely not when Y/N was at the center of it all.

This wasn’t some accident, some random twist of fate. Ony and I both knew the risks, knew the game we were playing. And if he thought he could keep someone like Y/N away from me, he was wrong. She wasn’t his to protect.

I leaned back in the seat, my gaze still locked on him as Reiner started the car. Ony didn’t look up, didn’t move. Maybe he was as lost in his head as I was, running over all the ways we’d screwed up to get here. Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore. I wasn’t sure which one would’ve been worse.

Connie sauntered over to Ony and plopped down beside him on the curb, stretching his legs out in front of him with a groan. The two sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the faint hum of the night and the occasional shuffle from inside the warehouse. Connie tilted his head back to glance at Ony, whose face was blank, eyes fixed on a patch of gravel as if the weight of the world had been buried there.

“Yo,” Connie said, breaking the silence. “You wanna crash at mine tonight? Or I can drop you back at your spot if you’re feelin’ it.”

Ony didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge the question. His fingers idly pushed at the small rocks near his boots, but his focus remained distant, somewhere far from where Connie sat. It was like talking to a wall.

Connie frowned, shifting a bit to lean closer. “Hey, man. You hear me? I said you wanna come back with me or what?”

Still nothing. The silence stretched so thin it felt suffocating, like even the night itself was holding its breath. Ony’s chest rose and fell steadily, but his expression didn’t flicker. He looked more like a statue than a man, trapped in his own mind.

Finally, Connie sighed, running a hand over his buzzed head. He pulled out a pack of rolling papers and a small baggie from his pocket, shaking them in Ony’s line of vision. “Alright, how about this? I roll you a blunt instead. That sound better?”

Ony’s fingers paused for the first time. He blinked slowly, his jaw tightening as if he were weighing the offer. A long moment passed before he finally shifted his gaze toward Connie, his voice low and hoarse when he replied.

“Yeah,” Ony muttered. “Roll me a blunt.”

Connie nodded, glad to get any kind of response at this point. “Aight, bet. Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you.”

He set to work, spreading the rolling paper out on his knee with practiced ease. The weed was already ground up, and Connie’s fingers moved deftly, sprinkling the green evenly across the paper. The rhythmic movements of his hands felt calming, almost therapeutic, and he wondered if Ony felt the same way watching him.

“So, you wanna talk about it?” Connie asked casually, glancing at Ony as he started to tuck the paper and roll it up.

Ony snorted softly, shaking his head. “What’s there to talk about, Connie? It’s all fucked.”

“That’s fair,” Connie said with a shrug, licking the edge of the paper to seal it. “But, like, I’m just sayin’, gettin’ it out might help. You been bottling shit up all night.”

Ony didn’t answer, just leaned back slightly, resting his arms on his knees as he stared ahead. Connie didn’t push it. Instead, he pulled a lighter from his pocket, sparking the blunt and taking a quick hit before passing it over.

“Here,” Connie said, holding it out to Ony. “This’ll do the talkin’ for you if you don’t wanna.”

Ony took it without a word, his fingers brushing against Connie’s briefly before he brought the blunt to his lips. He inhaled deeply, the cherry glowing bright as the smoke curled up into the cool night air. For the first time since Connie had sat down, Ony’s shoulders seemed to loosen, his posture relaxing just a fraction as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke.

“Thanks,” Ony muttered, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

“Don’t mention it,” Connie said, leaning back on his palms with a smirk. “You’re not the only one who needs to chill out after all this shit.”

They sat there like that for a while, passing the blunt back and forth, letting the silence between them grow comfortable instead of heavy. Neither of them needed to say much. The weed was doing its job, and for now, that was enough.

Jean, ever the instigator, leaned against the wall of the warehouse with that signature smirk of his, the one that promised trouble. He let out a low whistle, his eyes darting between Ony and the blunt in his hand.

“So,” Jean drawled, his tone thick with mischief. “What’s Yn think about all this? Bet she’s got a lot to say, huh?”

Ony’s entire body stiffened at the mention of her name. His hand froze mid-pass, the blunt hovering in the space between him and Connie. For a moment, it seemed like Ony hadn’t heard him—or maybe he was trying to convince himself that he didn’t. But then, without warning, Ony shot up from the concrete with such force it startled even Connie.

In a split second, Ony was in Jean’s face, his movements swift and aggressive. His jaw clenched tightly, and his nostrils flared as he stared Jean down. Jean, for all his usual bravado, looked momentarily caught off guard, his smirk faltering as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Yo, chill, Ony,” Jean said, his voice laced with a nervous chuckle. “I was just messing around.”

“Don’t.” Ony’s voice was low, dangerous, like a growl that seemed to rumble up from the depths of his chest. “Don’t bring her into this. Ever.”

For a tense moment, it seemed like Ony might swing. The air between them was charged, the kind of thick that made everyone else nearby tense up instinctively. Even Connie, who usually stayed out of these kinds of things, shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting between the two.

But then, just as quickly as he’d snapped, Ony stepped back. He ran a hand down his face, letting out a long, controlled breath as if he were physically forcing himself to calm down. His gaze flickered toward the warehouse for a brief second, then back to Jean. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, but the edge hadn’t entirely disappeared.

“Watch your mouth, Jean. That’s family.”

Jean nodded, swallowing hard as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Got it, man. My bad. No harm meant.”

Ony didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his attention toward Eren, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with a knowing look. Ony’s eyes locked with his, and the intensity in them was unmistakable. It wasn’t just a warning; it was a promise. Then Ony glanced back at the warehouse door, his jaw tightening for a brief moment, before looking directly at Connie, who held the now-limp blunt.

“Roll another one,” Ony muttered, sinking back down onto the curb.

Connie raised an eyebrow but said nothing, pulling out the rolling papers again as Jean slunk off, muttering under his breath. The tension lingered in the air, but Ony seemed to retreat into his own thoughts, his fingers tapping against his knee as he stared off into the distance. Whatever was running through his mind, it was clear the storm inside him was far from over.

I leaned against Reiner's jeep for a moment, watching Ony sit stiffly on the curb. His posture screamed tension, the kind that was tightly wound and ready to snap at any moment. A lesser man would’ve backed off, but I wasn’t one to shy away from poking a bear—especially when it was this particular bear.

Reiner had been trying to talk me down, something about picking my battles and how Levi would have both our heads if he caught wind of this. But I wasn’t listening. Instead, I peeled myself away from the jeep and sauntered over to Ony, feeling Reiner’s heavy sigh follow me like a shadow.

Sliding onto the curb next to him, I made myself comfortable, deliberately invading his space. I felt him stiffen the second I sat down, his body going rigid as if bracing for whatever nonsense he knew was about to come out of my mouth. I waited a beat, letting the tension simmer, before I finally spoke.

“I’d call a truce,” I said casually, my voice low and edged with amusement. “But the thing is, I want Yn for myself. And you already know that.”

I watched as Ony’s jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. His silence didn’t deter me—it only fueled me.

“So how about,” I continued, leaning in slightly, my tone dipping into something dangerously close to a taunt, “you drop this whole big brother act and let me have her?”

The air between us grew impossibly heavier, the kind that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. Ony’s head turned slowly, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a look that could’ve burned through steel. It wasn’t anger—not fully, at least. It was something deeper, something primal, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of unease.

“What did you just say?” Ony’s voice was low, steady, but it carried a weight that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“You heard me,” I said, forcing a smirk to mask the tension crawling up my spine. “She’s wasted on you. I’d treat her better. You know it, I know it, hell—she probably knows it.”

That did it.

In a flash, Ony was on his feet, towering over me with an intensity that made even the shadows around us seem to shrink away. His fists were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white, but he didn’t swing. Not yet.

“You’re walking on thin ice, Jaeger,” Ony said, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was laced with so much venom it felt louder than a shout. “And you don’t want to see what happens when it breaks.”

I stood, meeting his gaze head-on, refusing to back down even as my pulse quickened. “Maybe I do,” I said, my smirk widening, though it felt more like baring teeth.

Before Ony could make his move, Reiner’s heavy hand landed on my shoulder, pulling me back with a force that made it clear I’d crossed a line.

“Enough,” Reiner said sharply, his eyes darting between the two of us. “This isn’t the time, and it sure as hell isn’t the place.”

Ony didn’t take his eyes off me, his chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. “This isn’t over,” he muttered, his voice like a low growl before turning on his heel and walking away.

Reiner shot me a look that could’ve rivaled Levi’s in its intensity. “Do you ever know when to shut up, Jaeger?”

I shrugged, my smirk returning as I watched Ony disappear into the shadows. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Connie suddenly stood up, stepping into my space with a fire in his eyes. "I thought you guys were chill. Like, is Y/N really worth all this, man?"

His words hit like a punch, but I wasn’t about to let him see how much they stung. "Ony’s not gonna forgive you, man. You know how he is about his family. He’s only doing all this shit for them. Your shit’s got him and his mama on ends."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth I couldn’t deny. But instead of letting the tension break me, I threw my head back and laughed—a sharp, bitter sound

I couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up, low and dark, as Connie's words hit the air. His face was scrunched up in that mixture of confusion and frustration, but all I could think about was how badly I’d just rattled Ony. Not just him, but everything around him. Family, loyalty, everything he thought he had a grip on—I was ripping it all away, piece by piece.

I leaned back, giving Connie a look that practically oozed smugness. "You think I care about his forgiveness?" I asked, letting the amusement settle in my tone like a bitter taste. "What the fuck does forgiveness even mean in this world? This is about power, and right now, I hold it. Ony? He's just a pawn in this game."

Connie's eyes narrowed, and I could see his frustration bubbling. He probably wanted to be the peacemaker, the one who made sure everything didn't go off the rails, but that wasn’t going to happen—not on my watch.

"Man, you’re playing a dangerous game," Connie muttered, shaking his head. "Ony’s loyalty runs deep, and you’re testing that line. He's not gonna back down from this."

I shrugged nonchalantly, the weight of my words heavy in the space between us. "Let him try. He knows who I am, and right now, I’m everything he can’t handle." My gaze flicked over to where Ony had disappeared into the distance, no longer looking back. "He’s too tied up in his little 'family' to see what’s really going on. It’s cute, in a way."

Connie looked like he was about to say more, but I cut him off, unable to resist. "And as for Yn? She's mine. No one else gets a say. If Ony’s too caught up in his feelings to protect what’s his, that’s on him. But Yn's not gonna end up like him. She’s gonna end up where she belongs—next to me."

Connie looked ready to snap, his face twisted in frustration, but there was nothing he could say that would change what I was going to do. I'd already decided, and no one, not even Ony, could stand in my way.

"You really think she’s gonna fall for your bullshit?" Connie pressed, his voice rising just a bit.

I let the laughter roll out again, louder this time. "We’ll see. I always get what I want, Connie. Always."

[moonysmoothies]

the shadowhunters show is so wild to me for so many reasons but ones of them is that i am so baffled by how they manage to hit most of the major story beats of the books and yet mess them up SO BADLY?

here's every major fuck up i can remember in chronological order because i feel like ranting

they go to the silent city but instead of finding out about magnus's block on her memory, they find out that valentine is clary's father through a conversation that she overheard between luke and her mother

simon is kidnapped by the vampires on purpose instead of accidentally because they want the mortal cup from clary since it can control demons, which is the stupidest thing ever because raziel gave jonathan shadowhunter the cup so that he could make more shadowhunters with the objective to kill demons, not control them

oh and they're not allowed to use the cup to make more shadowhunters, so mundanes can't ascend (do none of them have the sight?) and the cup has no purpose other than to sit there and look pretty

all of them were in on rescuing simon, not just jace and clary and the wolves are not there at all, but for some reason camille is and has a weirdly sexual relationship with simon

they go see magnus to get clary's memories back and they end up having to give up their memories like they did with azazel except it's to this random demon who magnus gave clary's memories to for the plot but then clary kills the demon so she never gets her memories back

instead of getting the cup from madame dorothea, they sneak into a police station to get it while luke is being questioned for MURDER

simon is turned into a vampire except it turns into this whole uprising where everyone turns against camille and it's this whole moral dilemma for clary

they still find out clary and jace are related while at renwick's except the scene is just very different and valentine had been glamoured to look like michael wayland this whole time because there's a shapeshifting rune now!

jace goes with valentine at the end of season one

they wake up jocelyn at the end of season one and she fully believes that jace is her child and tries to kill him

also jace finds out that he "has demon blood" at the very beginning of season two while on valentine's ship from valentine himself

he is imprisoned in the silent city and the attack on the silent brothers happens while he is there, but he is also put on trial and for some reason it is more about his feelings for clary than about his actual "crimes" (which was just being basically forced onto a ship with valentine in order to save his friends from being murdered)

instead of imogen herondale distrusting jace it's a weird british dude, also maryse just straight up equates jace to a cancer that they need to kill and didn't just tell him to leave the institute in an attempt to protect him from the inquisitor like she did in the books

the weird british dude gives izzy yin fen, except its made from vampire venom and not demon poison in what is the worst storyline to ever exist and is basically just shadow world heroin (not a tmi major plot point but i literally cannot not mention how much i fucking hate this storyline)

izzy and clary visit the iron sisters to find out why valentine wanted the mortal sword where they find out that if an angelic being and a bolt of lightning touch it then it will be able to emit a heavenly light that can kill anyone with demon blood (raziel really had no faith in these guys)

they actually imprison valentine and are just using a rune to torture him (idk why they had a rune to torture people considering that all of their runes were given to them by raziel and i don't know if he wanted them torturing each other? also i looked up the rune on the shadowhunter books wiki and it was the super powerful healing rune that clary used on jace in cohf - kind of the opposite of torture)

clary and jace find out they're not related halfway through season two (not entirely objecting to this but it did mean a full climon relationship)

they still go to the seelie court, except it's just simon, jace, and clary and the seelie queen makes jace and clary kiss in order to show simon that shadowhunters always choose "their own kind" over anyone else because she's obsessed with him and his daylighterness

sebastian still attacks max because max tracked him with a single hair from the bottom of the baby jc box except max survives (not really objecting to this either because max was so sweet but like what was the reason for changing this!!)

ok, time to go into the jace + sebastian fight - instead of jace goading sebastian into a fight by making him realize that valentine will find out that sebastian just killed him in cold blood and didn't give him a fair fight and then hate him for it, not by just making him really angry - jace literally passes out several times on the way to where they fight and sebastian just keeps dragging him along. this is just a little change that irks me so much because it shows a lot about their character imo. here, they have a fight on a random bridge where we get the line "care to find out who's the best jc once and for all" which should be considered a crime against humanity. izzy does intervene but she does not get to cut off sebastian's hand and then jace stabs sebastian in the special spot on the back and kicks him into the river, sebastian somehow survives long enough to float all the way to a beach and summon lilith

jace does get possessed by lilith except he's turning into a weird looking demon who possesses mundanes to kill their loved ones and serve lilith and not whatever the fuck was going on with him in cofa that was definitely not turning into a demon and possessing other people

jem is american

instead of maureen being maureen she's another person their age named heidi who forces simon to drink his sister's blood which leads to his mom throwing him out like she does in the books, and then heidi proceeds to try to take over the entire downworld until maia kills her in the same way she kills maureen in the books

clary gets the twinning rune instead of jace and instead of it being an instant thing clary is just slowly becoming more like sebastian except she's not and she still has free will which jace didn't really have in cols - they're more like equals instead of one having power over the other like in the books

instead of raziel giving them glorious because simon was like "if you don't i'll just use my mark of cain to annoy you for all of eternity" izzy has a woman in stem moment and remakes the sword herself with particles of glorious that she extracted from a serum that the weird british dude was using to turn downworlder prisoners into mundanes again in an illegal project

instead of having the two family swords made by wayland the smith, they have one sword that has the ability to open rifts into hell and release demons and getting that sword is sebastians goal for the season instead of making the endarkened

sebastian does have a relationship with the seelie queen but then he kills her

izzy gets the heavenly fire instead of jace even though clary was the one who was stabbed with glorious because izzy gets hit by shrapnel from the sword exploding

they still go to edom but it's to save magnus from lilith because she wants to start a war with him so she can go to earth and he's there because he's holding closed the rift the sebastian opened with the family sword

clary loses her memories instead of simon because making her own runes went against the will of the angels - especially the one that tied shadowhunters to downworlders even though that was literally what won the mortal war in the books

magnus and alec still temporarily break up except it's not because alec was trying to remove magnus's immortality (although they did have issues with that earlier in the season) it's so asmodeus will give magnus his magic back after taking it in exchange for giving magnus the power to free jace from lilith's possession

anyways that's everything i can remember - there's probably more

[starry-scarl3tt]

what’s a non-canon house md pairing you think had the most potential and why?? (saw the asks reblog <3)

thank you for asking<33

apart from hilson, i see chase and foreman having a chance, as well as cameron and thirteen.

> chase and foreman are similar in a lot of way, yet so different at the same time. chase needs to not feel alone/lonely and foreman needs someone who can understand him.

the best parallel is foreman giving thirteen the actual drug in the clinic trial instead of the placebo, right after house says he wouldn’t/couldn’t/shouldn’t (paraphrasing) “unless you love her”, and saying people do stupid things for love. then there’s the other side with foreman burning the chart, helping chase get away with the whole dibala thing, masking it as a complete accident, and speaking in front of so many important people, essentially jeopardizing his entire career if word ever got out.

i could go on about the bachelor party and them having fun together, foreman being all smile-y (thought i do admit, he was drunk) and friend-like to chase because!! after so many years that’s what they were!! friends!! no matter how many times foreman denies it, that’s genuinely what they were and they cared about each other so much it drives me crazy.

may i add how the alleged power imbalance feeds both of their subconscious? foreman always acts like the superior, treating others as if they were his subordinates. on the other hand, chase always acts like a subordinate, always trying to please the ones he admires.

chase gets attached to people. so does foreman. this could easily be a thing that lasts a lifetime. not to mention, in the end they’re dean of medicine and HOD on diagnostic medicine so they would meet a lot. they have so much common ground and what to bond over, it would just take one important step to be able to overcome the start.

also they could be self destructive together<3

so in conclusion: i love them and they’re my poor little meow meows doomed by the narrative for history to repeat again. mic drop

> on the camteen part, i have spent less time analysing (i confess), but a few of the main reasons i think they would be a strong couple are:

1. thirteen is obviously dying. cameron doesn’t want to fix broken people, she wants to accept them;

2. cameron is a lot like the poet with the bleeding heart type while thirteen acts too strong for her own good. they could lower each other’s guards’ down^^

3. comphet allison cameron. need i say more? the point that they could lower each other’s guards’ down still stands!!

yup, that’s all for now. thanks for the ask!! was so fun to answer.