#she was basically my mother and my best friend

[randombush3]

the winner takes it all

alexia putellas x reader

summary: an unexpected invitation throws your world off-kilter

words: 6276

content warnings: it's a bit unfaithful

notes: in this universe real madrid is a proper opponent and rival to barcelona, in the sense that funding and history is relatively equal (so it's basically more like the men's rivalry)

idk where this came from tbh

Amb gran alegria, 

Alexia i Olga

T’invitem a celebrar la nostra unió matrimonial. 

10 d’agost de 2025

Gran Hotel Mas d’en Bruno

You haven’t read Catalan in years. You squint at the details. 

You wish you had forgotten it. 

Only Alexia would do this to you, twisting the knife as though it’s a favour, a compliment. Make it seem psychotic for not wanting to go, make it seem like it’s not a big deal. 

The invitation isn’t personalised. You are not special in her eyes. You have been allowed onto the guest list, you have no mark in her life. Surely Olga would have objected if she’d known, if she’d been told. Maybe Alexia doesn’t talk about it. Maybe she has heard your name on match reports and team sheets, announcements for captaincy, interviews with Las 16 who called you traidora then and call you traidora now. 

As if she knew it was coming, your phone begins to light up with messages from Alba. Apologies, perhaps, in her own Alba way. Stuff like ‘are you coming’ and ‘you don’t have to’ and then more buzzing, vibrating the shitstorm into a phone call. 

You don’t speak often. Why would you? But you answer it, listless, really, and unsure what the correct approach to this even is. 

“Hola, traidorita,” she says with a nervous giggle, reclaiming your nickname in Barcelona but reminding you of how you are perceived nevertheless. “I don’t know why you are on the guest list.” 

Alba is like this: straight to the point, unafraid of her sister and unafraid to tell you what she thinks. They are very different, which is why she is the only one who has your current number in her contacts. 

“You told her where I live,” you respond. Your shock makes no room for manners. “Because no one there has my Madrid address, Albi.” 

“No one here has it, yeah. But she asked around. Well, Olga did.” She laughs again. Her nervousness is high-pitched and easily detected. “Told Ale that she has to have her childhood best friend at her wedding.” 

“Childhood best friend?” 

“Estranged childhood best friend?” she tries, and you can hear the smile and the teasing fucking smugness in it. You wonder if anyone else knows you have been invited. Alba because your address was squeezed out of her, sure, but… “And my mother thought it was a good idea too, before you try to murder a woman you have never met.” 

“I’ve met Olga before,” you say without thinking, because that’s far easier to focus on than the idea of Eli getting involved in this completely undesired reunion that is about two centuries too early. “When I was going out with, eh, I don’t remember her name. A model. You know what they’re like. Olga’s the one who works for… thingie.” 

There’s a sigh from the other end. “So many models yet not one name has been retained. Do you even ask them?” 

“We’re not usually doing much talking.” 

“Zorra.”

“Coming from you…” You smirk at the thought of all the little secrets Alba’s had you keep, a tradition that started young and became increasingly frequent when you removed yourself from everyone else’s lives. It’s like a journal, only you judge her. “You’re doing a good job of distracting me until I agree to go.” 

She hesitates, then. You’re not an idiot and you know why she called. Alba is supportive but she has her own agenda most of the time, and no one else knows the exact time you get back from training aside from your fellow teammates. Even then, most are too intimidated to contact you in general, let alone to ask about being invited to Alexia Putellas’ fucking wedding. 

Alba is also very manipulative, a professional puppeteer. And she knows exactly what to say. “It’s been fifteen years. Are you going to let her win?” It’s an infuriating provocation but it hits its target with ease. 

…

The first step of preparing for this wedding takes place in the form of the Euros: you’re going to win it and be happy enough to ignore the impending doom hanging over your off-season plans. Going into the competition with heavy medals round your necks makes cockiness the slippiest of slopes, and it is safe to say that most of your teammates are prepared to cruise through at least the group stages. 

An unexpected injury rips Jenni’s opportunity to play from her grasp (an echo of her ex-girlfriend, you briefly think), and she is flying back to Mexico before the tournament begins. Montse is a captain down – of course only this kind of disaster could happen to her – and before Patri can even open her mouth to volunteer for the role, you are dragged into a leadership meeting.

You’ve worn the armband before, though it seared and burned and blistered until you threw it in Jorge’s face and demanded someone else absorb the hatred it brought. He went ballistic as you’d said it, you remember, his face going red in the soft glow of your hotel room the night before the World Cup final. He’d leaned forwards, fist clenched, knuckles white and wanting to choke the life out of you.

“You have no respect!” he’d roared, voice splitting like thunder against the thin walls of your hotel room. “Not for me, not for your country, not for anything!” His breath was coming out in sharp ragged gasps. He spat. You’d wiped it off your body. “I thought you had scraped all the Catalan out of you, but here it is!” he’d screamed, loud enough to be heard but so comfortable in his power that it did not seem to frighten him. “Selfish and arrogant. You should have made it Seventeen.” 

He’d left in his rage, slamming his door. 

You regretted smiling in pictures with him, shaking his hand, kissing his cheek. You regretted the press conferences and interviews, the shaky defence you had constructed, the words of faith and trust you had professed and tried to believe. It had changed you, just a little bit, that incident. Made you think about who you are, where you come from. Made you remember someone you’d tried to forget. 

But Irene and Alexia, staring at you with both contempt and confusion as you take a seat at the conference table, don’t know any of this. Why would they? To them, this is the traidora. 

“Y/n is going to take Jenni’s place as third captain,” says Montse firmly, if she even knows how to do that. Irene and Alexia share a glance. Their roles have been restored for this competition and they are not prepared for an intruder to take that from them, although Irene will later remind Alexia that it is not your fault Jenni got injured. “I trust you three will come up with a suitable management plan. If you need me, you know where to find me.” 

None of you really do know where she lurks, but she is walking off before you can clarify. 

“We already have a strategy.” And she says it in Catalan, looking falsely apologetic when she is kicked underneath the table. 

“Good job, Alexia,” you tell her, so nauseatingly saccharine that you almost think of the nearest route to a toilet. She’s surprised you’ve granted her a reply though, which is satisfying enough. About to spit out another remark to divide yourselves further, you shift in your chair, stretching out your legs underneath the table. 

It is then that her ring catches your eye.

It’s delicate, shiny. A neatly cut diamond set in platinum with slight details that tell you someone thought about Alexia when they had this made and got it all wrong. Or maybe this is what she likes now. It’s not what you’d have given her.

She sees your eyes fall to her fingers, watching carefully as your gaze heats the metal and makes it almost too hot for her to keep on. You don’t really want her to know that you’ve seen it but you��ve made it bleeding obvious and so the predicament spirals and Irene wants, desperately, to leave you two alone – she knows shouldn’t, she’s aware of the health and safety risk. 

There is something about the way Alexia clenches her jaw, posture stiffening as she allows herself one flicker from your face to the ring, that tells you she is bracing herself for a bullet. She always did have an uncanny ability to read you, however unwanted it was. 

You lean back in your chair, aware of how the bystander is holding her breath, and decide to swallow the words burning on your tongue. You’ve accepted her invitation, and bitter manners are still manners. “Congratulations,” you say, words clipped and brittle, each syllable more venomous than the last. 

The chair makes a screeching sound as you stand. Irene flinches but Alexia does not move. She refuses to watch as you walk out of the room. 

…

Three hours later, Alexia is off the phone with Olga and knocking on Irene’s door with an embarrassed suppression of urgency. Shoulders hunched and lips downturned, the sight is enough for her to be ushered inside with only the quiet flap of Irene’s arms to beckon her forwards. With this part of the training camp being not quite tunnel-vision yet, Irene’s room is littered with toys and toddler stuff. Usually Alexia would be looking at them in quiet excitement. Right now, she is not so sure. 

“Second thoughts?” Irene asks, and Alexia half-jumps backwards in shock, about to furiously shake her head and profess her love for Olga– “I think the plan is good. I don’t think we need to worry about Y/n in the centre, seeing how she’s been playing there this season.” 

It slowly dawns on Alexia that Irene has assumed this is pre-tournament nerves, and that she is being shown such a vulnerable side of her co-captain because, well, who else can be? No one wants to see their commander gulp at the sight of the battlefield. 

“She still favours her left,” Alexia gets out. “She might drift, leaving a big gap for you to cover.” 

“She’s got offers from PSG, Chelsea, and Washington Spirit. It’s in her interest not to drift.” 

“She’s good at drifting.” 

Irene doesn’t respond to that. 

“Since when did you wear your ring to training?” is what she chooses to say instead, asking the question with a healthy fear of getting her head bitten off, taking a small step backwards to put her at a safer distance. 

Alexia doesn’t reply immediately, her fingers grazing the ring as she thinks. The weight of it seems heavier now, almost suffocating in the sterile air of the hotel room, as though this is everything she’s been trying to avoid. Her heart thuds against her ribcage. It feels like everyone is starting to notice. 

“I didn’t think it was an issue.” Her voice is tight, defensive, but with a subtle, betraying crack. She pulls her hand back from the air, letting it fall to her side. “We hardly did much more than pass the ball today so I kept it on.” 

It’s a poor excuse. It comes off for the cameras, not the contact of the game. Irene knows that. But, to her credit, she doesn’t push. She just watches Alexia, eyes narrowed slightly in an unreadable expression. “I just thought you guys were keeping it a bit more… private.” 

Alexia turns her gaze to the floor, staring at the scattered toys and items around the room. The simplicity of it all, the domestic innocence, makes her feel even more tangled. She feels an urge to lie, to say that Olga asked her to, worried that you’d misinterpret its absence, but Olga doesn’t even know she has reason to lose sleep. She hasn’t found the courage to explain. She hasn’t felt the need to. 

And, really, the truth is right here, echoing between them. Irene would have pieced together the story, as many of Alexia’s teammates have, hearing drunken retellings on nights out from whoever has known the two of you the longest that time. Maybe Alba has spoken to her, revealing everything after a round of tequila shots, as she tends to do. There are a few suggestions the older woman could make to her teammate, wounds she could open and then nurse, but she doesn’t and so she waits. 

Until, finally, Alexia admits, “it’s complicated. She has caught me off-guard.” It could mean many things, but it is either your captaincy or the acceptance of her wedding invitation that has done Alexia in. She wonders whether this feeling of dread and uncertainty is the game – or the life waiting for her after she comes back from Switzerland. “Look,” she says abruptly, “I’m not here for advice, Irene.”

“Then why are you in my room?” She doesn’t have an answer for that. Irene sweeps her outside, gently but firmly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” she treads lightly, “but when was the last time you had a conversation with her?” 

…

The training pitch in Switzerland is unseasonably hot, the kind of heat that clings to the air and makes tempers run shorter than usual. It’s almost a cure to homesickness but then the team look at each other and are back to hating every minute of this. There’s an undeniable divide. Montse either does not care or has not caught on. 

It’s about your twentieth rondo this session, the ball zipping across the wilting grass as it touches Barça foot to Barça foot, the girls obviously enjoying this. You’re only holding back because too much investment will lead to another injury, and you are getting somewhat tired of being called a traitor. The players surround you with a ruthless efficiency that is starting to fray your nerves, and you make a note to talk to your coach about training, knowing that it will be easy to manipulate her into following something akin to what the girls at Madrid are more accustomed to. 

Alexia is one of your taunters. Of course she is. 

“Just three more interceptions,” she calls out, false strain, false support, false encouragement. 

You bite back a retort, instead standing still as Aitana rolls a ball right past you. You wipe the sweat from your brow, feigning exhaustion, but the pretense is only that in name. Everyone knows you are one of the best defenders, the Barça girls especially, with their insane pride for La Masia. 

“Lazy,” Alexia mutters. 

You don’t respond, focusing instead on the fire in your chest as you forcibly break the circle and march towards Montse. She looks up from her clipboard as you approach. 

“We should split training.” She pauses and then nods. “Attack and defence, at least. And don’t let the press hear this, but, my god, Montse, I do not like how they’re all back.” 

“We’re a stronger team,” she says, but she’s smiling and you are definitely her favourite. Another deep breath and she is calling a water break. 

The girls retreat to the sidelines for ice and hydration, and you reunite with the people you like. Your club teammates prefer you at national camp, because there is something less reclusive about you. It’s as though you’re trying to prove that you get on. 

Olga hands you a water bottle, the contents of which you guzzle down in one go. She begins to comment on the absurdity of Alexia’s mandated rondos (“why do they have to keep reminding themselves how to pass a ball?”) and while you agree, your attention is diverted. Alexia is standing a few meters away with Mariona Caldentey. She’s listening to something the forward is telling her, face focused, finger twisting her ring around in circles. 

That fucking ring. 

You look away before you are caught in such a compromising position, wiping your forehead with your damp training shirt. 

“Oye,” Misa’s voice pulls you back, “are you paying attention?” You’re not even sure when she joined the conversation. Your relationship with the goalkeeper has always been overly complicated. You work very closely, what with you commanding the backline and her… also commanding the backline. But she’s friends with people who must have at least once wished you dead, so it’s hard to tell where you stand. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you lie, screwing the cap back onto the water bottle and placing it in Olga’s held-out palm. 

“You’re never this spacey. You’ve been off since the meeting,” she presses, her voice gentle but insistent. “If this is about the captaincy–” 

“It’s not,” you snap, harsher than what was meant. Her eyes widen slightly and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sorry. It’s not about that. I’m fine.” 

Misa doesn’t look convinced but she nods, letting it drop. Gratitude relaxes your shoulders but the uneasy silence that follows is punishing enough for you to be eager for training to resume. 

Now that the rondos have been left behind until tomorrow, you divide into teams for a scrimmage. The squad is split into four and you throw yourself into the exercise. Every touch, every pass, every run is perfect, and you are unrecognisable from your lackadaisical lull only ten minutes ago. You’re pushing your body and it flicks onto autopilot, driven by muscle memory and determination. 

Your head’s not in it. You can’t outrun her shadow. You can’t think when your teams are against each other. 

The ring must have come off now, and she is getting stuck in. She’s relentless and irritating, evading your teammates’ tackles and drawing you into her. It’s almost transportative: back you go to gardens after school or being barefoot on the beach, forced out of your relaxation and into an endless game of ‘tackle me like you mean it’. She has that same glint in her eye, that same goading gleam. You consider it, but crutches at a wedding is a low blow. 

And so you lay off. Just on her, and only just enough so that she knows you are not trying. You do not care for petty squabbles. You are not willing to go back to those memories, to that time. 

Or at least, that’s the message you hope she gets. 

The games slowly wind down, prompted by Montse’s whistle to signal the end of the session. You stay on the pitch longer than anyone else, taking you time to collect the stray balls scattered across the grass. It’s partly an excuse to delay walking into the locker room, where the tension will be thick (you were not the right choice for third captain in the eyes of your teammates), and partly because you need a moment to breathe. 

The others slowly disperse, peeling off to the showers or collapsing onto benches. Alexia lingers longer than most, wiping away her sweat with her shirt, abs exposed and tensed. She watches you as you move across the pitch, and though her gaze is subtle, you can feel it blazing hotter than the sun lashing down on you. But, despite her staring, she too is eventually coaxed away. You’re unsure whether she is thankful for the interruption. 

When you finally make your way to the changing rooms, most of your teammates are in the showers, and the sound of running water mingled with laughter echoes. You take a seat at the locker you were assigned and let out a slow breath, peeling off sweat-soaked socks with mild disgust. You turn to fling them into your laundry bag, but their flight path is blocked by a blonde who has clearly delayed her own shower to talk to you. 

She’s looking oddly pensive. You don’t like it. 

“We need to talk.” It’s uncomfortable for Alexia to say and it’s worse for you to hear. You’re not sure you’re okay with her decision to become reasonable and mature. It’s quite the compliment to always be the cause for stoic, rational Alexia Putellas going absolutely batshit crazy. 

Driving her up the wall is fun. 

“I’ll send you an invitation. No need to tell me which room is yours.” You give her a smile. And, like you always do, you walk away. 

…

There’s a charge to the air that is choking you by dinner time. The upgrade to captain allowed for your own room, and it is easy to blow off teammates who want to have plans with you with the simple excuse of needing to talk to your agent. You technically do, since you are going to leave Madrid during the transfer window, but you have no intention of dialling his number until he confirms the best and furthest team wants you. 

You’ve spent the evening avoiding the majority of the players, which Montse took advantage of, encouraging you to spend dinner discussing tactics with her and her staff. You feel like the teacher’s pet. You know how angry it is making Alexia.

Collapsing on the bed when you back into your room, you let out a loud groan, sinking into the mattress. Your phone buzzes on the bedside table and for a moment, you think it might be Alba, allowing you no peace and quiet despite her distance. Instead, it’s a message on the team group chat from the strength and conditioning coach about tomorrow’s gym session. A wave of relief washes over you; anything but her. 

Still, as you scroll, you catch yourself lingering on the names in the group chat, your thumb hovering near Alexia’s. Your stomach tightens and the memory of her tone, her expression, pulls at you like a tether. 

She’s not going to drop this. 

It’s no longer a matter of avoidance in the camp. You’ve said you will be present. She must want to ensure you will not make a scene. 

A knock at the door, so quiet you are almost convinced it was imagined, breaks you out of your brooding. Your eyes watch the wood as though it will be splintered in a moment, but when you make no move to get up, a more insistent knock sounds. You sigh as you pull yourself off your bed, dragging your feet towards the door. Opening it, you find Alexia standing there, arms crossed and wearing an expression you can’t quite decipher. It lacks her usual burning hatred. She looks exhausted. 

You struggle to feel any sympathy. 

“What?” you snap. It’s a bit harsher than intended but you don’t let on that that’s the case. 

“Can I come in?” You guess that she didn’t pick up the hint when you gave her no invitation. You do not want to talk. You don’t do that to people much anymore. 

She expects the door to slam in her face – and you consider it – but it’s your hesitation that tells her she can, and so she slowly moves inside, shoulder brushing yours because you refuse to move out of the way. And then she raises a deliberate hand towards the door, pushing it shut. You ignore the ring. 

You lean against the door once it’s shut, arms folded as she wanders further into your room. She looks out of place somewhere so personal to you, standing awkwardly in the centre and trying not to look at the explosion of clothes and books that has been detonated on the floor. 

She reads the titles of a few – classics that look dense and boring. Something hungry inside her dulls a bit, because you have not changed in this respect. 

“You’re quiet for someone who wants to talk,” you prompt, mostly because the silence is unbearable. 

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her arms drop to her sides, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves. She tries to meet your eyes, but falters when she sees the cold indifference staring back. You’re looking at her like she’s a stranger. It stings more than it should.

“I didn’t invite you to the wedding,” she says finally. “Olga doesn’t know about us.” 

“There’s no ‘us’,” you snap, sharper this time.

Her jaw tightens and for a second, she looks as though she’s been struck. “Don’t lie.” 

“There is no ‘us’,” you repeat, your tone icy now. “That disappeared the minute I–” 

“Left,” comes her interruption, her voice trembling just enough for you to notice. She steps closer, her shadow crossing yours, and her eyes narrow. “Which was your decision, not mine.”

You scoff, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Don’t act like you didn’t have a say in it.” 

“I didn’t!” she fires back, her voice rising. There is something raw beneath it – something fractured. “You didn’t give me one. You walked out, and you shut me out like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.” 

Her words hang in the air and for a moment, you don’t know whether to shoot or turn away. But her gaze pins you in place, fierce and unrelenting, as though daring you to deny it. 

You hold her stare, your throat tightening. “And you didn’t try to stop me.” 

The silence that follows feels deafening. Neither of you moves. Neither of you blinks. You’re both standing on landmines and have nowhere to go. 

Her jaw clenches, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Her voice, though low, crackles with the heat of restrained anger. 

“You didn’t give me a chance to stop you.” And she steps closer, ready to bite. The door presses against your back as you instinctively move away. “You made up your mind before I even knew what was happening.” 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see it coming.” You shake your head. “I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to leave, Alexia.”

Her expression darkens, something in her eyes flickering dangerously. “That’s not the point. You didn’t just leave the club. You didn’t just leave me. You left everything. Our family. Our life. Do you have any idea what that felt like? Watching you walk away as if none of it mattered?” 

Your chest tightens but you refuse to let her words land. “You don’t get to make me the villain here.” 

“I don’t have to,” she snaps, her voice rising now, accent thickening with her anger. “You were part of my family, part of me. You were at every Christmas, every birthday. My mother adored you. Alba still loves you like you are her own sister! And you just disappeared like none of it meant anything. Like we didn’t mean anything.”

You flinch at the weight of her words but force yourself into steadiness. “I didn’t belong there. It wasn’t mine, it was yours.” 

Her face twists in disbelief, voice trembling as it rises again. “That’s bullshit and you know it! You were my family. My first everything. My first kiss. My first…” She pauses, her voice cracking. You swallow hard – you don’t want the fucking itemised list. “My first time. You think I just gave that to anyone? You think that it was just fun and games?” 

Your stomach churns as she stokes a fire you’ve tried to smother for years. “It wasn’t nothing,” you agree, although it sounds like you are contradicting her in a way that causes her to falter on her drive forwards. “It was everything. That’s why I left. Because I couldn’t be what was needed anymore. Because I knew if I stayed, I’d only–” 

“Only what?” 

You gulp. 

She’s back in your face, voice laced with venom. “Hurt me? Ruin me? Let us all done? Guess what, you did that anyway. Leaving made it easier? Made it hurt less?” 

“I didn’t know what else to do!” you shout, voice splitting. 

“You stay!” It echoes and it bruises your skin. Her eyes are blazing now, tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. “You stay, because that is what you do when you love someone. When you love a family. You don’t just walk away from them. You fight.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat, caught somewhere between guilt and pride. She sees it and it only seems to enrage her further. 

Her voice drops, anger so torrid she has to purposely cool her tone. “You know, I thought that my world was ending then. I thought you’d done your worst. But I was wrong. Because your betrayal wasn’t just personal, it was… political. To not see someone you love except for when they are sitting at the feet of this. Corruption’s pet. Pandering to an organisation you hated, while the rest of us fought for scraps.” 

Heat rises in your chest. How dare she– “I don’t pander to anyone.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” she spits. She’s too close. She’s too inescapable. And her anger is no longer fiery but icy, piercing through your skin. “I’ve seen the way you act around them, bowing your head and playing the loyal soldier while they tear us apart. You think I didn’t notice how he favoured you? Or how Montse magically replaces an irreplaceable member of–” 

“It’s not like that,” you counter, but the words feel hollow even to you.

“Then what is it?” she demands. “What is it that makes you stand there and let them walk all over us? Let them divide us? And don’t you dare say it is for the good of the team. The team hates you for it. We all do. You’ve earned every bit of it, traidora.” 

The word hits you like a whip, lacerating and making you bleed. Your hands curl into fists so tightly your nails dig into your palms, the sting barely enough to contain the fury surging through you. “Don’t you dare call me that!” The sentence tears out of your throat, rough and jagged. You take a step forwards, the air between you crackling with tension, your voice breaking as you spit, “you don’t get to say that to me. Not you.”

“Why not?” she challenges. “It’s what you are. You left, you betrayed everything we stood for, and then you came back just to make things worse. You made your choices.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her, the anger and heartbreak in her eyes, eviscerating and leaving you hollow. But then, something shifts in the air between you, and you find your voice again, souring from before.

“Is that why you’re here, Alexia? To throw all of this in my face? To let out fifteen years of harboured emotion? Or is it something else?” 

Her brow furrows in confusion. Surprise. And then her expression twists into anger. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You take a step forward now, and she is forced to retreat. “Do you not want to marry Olga, Alexia? Is that it? Is that why you’re here? Because you think you can come into my room, dredge all of this up, and make me the reason you’re unhappy?” 

Her face pales as she takes a deep breath, hands trembling at her sides. “Don’t,” she warns, firmly enough to signal you need to push.

So you do. 

“You came here because you’re scared.” She shakes her head but it’s rigid and forced. “Because you’re not sure you can go through with it and you want me to give you a reason to back out. Well, I’m not going to do that for you. This isn’t my mess. It’s yours.”

She says nothing and you feel sick. Her chest rises and falls with each gasping breath. She opens her mouth but again, you are left with silence, and the expression in her eyes flickers between defiance, confusion, and vulnerability. For a long moment, it feels like everything that could be said has been. 

The air between you is charged, but neither of you know which way it will go. 

You stare at her watching her waver. And it hits you: she doesn’t know what to do. 

All of this, all the anger and the pain, all the accusations and betrayals, has led her here, to this moment. She thought she had an answer, she thought she would be able to end this, but now? Now, Alexia is lost. There is too much here, too much to lose. And for the first time in a long while, you are feeling the same thing. You are both no longer sure if you want to fight. 

She takes a hesitant step closer and you freeze. But then, just as quickly, her hand moves – not to strike, not to harm, but to touch you. Her fingers brush lightly over the fabric of your sleeve, almost tenderly, before they fall away, and you don’t know if the motion was meant for comfort or something else.

Her breath is ragged, coming in slow, uneven gasps. Her eyes never leave yours. You don’t want them to. 

“I don’t know what to do with all of this,” she murmurs, the rawness in her tone shattering any remaining wall between you. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

How do you respond to that? You want her to leave but the thought is unbearable. You want space but she is not close enough. Something inside you stirs, something you can’t fight; a need to understand her and make her understand you. To make her see how tangled this, how impossible it has always been. 

Before you can form the word, before you can even think, she moves in closer, and there is no longer distance. She doesn’t ask for permission. She doesn’t hesitate. And then, without warning, her lips are on yours. 

It’s soft, tentative at first, as though testing the waters of something neither of you is sure of anymore. But then it shifts. Her body leans into yours, and the kiss deepens, more urgent now, as if this is everything that has not been said and has been at the same time. Your heart races, a million conflicting emotions crashing through you. Anger, betrayal, love – it is all here, you can taste it on her lips. It’s fierce, desperate, and it feels like an endless cycle of need and regret, pulling you both back to something raw, something irretrievable. 

Her hands find your waist, gripping tightly as though anchoring herself to something that could pull her under. You instinctively respond, pulling her closer, drawing in the heat of her touch, the scent of her skin, the pressure of her body against yours. For a fleeting second, everything else fades away. There’s no past, no future, only here and now. 

And then the fog clears. 

You pull back, breathless and worse off. You’ve fucked up again. Alexia is crying. 

“I’m not the person you think I am anymore,” you say, but it’s hard to meet her gaze. “I can’t be that person for you.”

Her eyes search yours desperately for lies, for deceit. She wants it to be wrong. She doesn’t know why. And she replies, “I don’t care what you think you’ve become,” because she doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to her.

You stare at her, heart pounding, and you want to feel like this will be worth it, but nothing comes except cold emptiness. You force yourself to stay upright. “I think the wedding will be good.” She swallows. “You’ll be happy with Olga. I’m sure of it.” 

It’s a death sentence. 

This time, it is Alexia who leaves. 

…

The wedding is beautiful. Blissful sunlight makes the venue seem to glow and it is hard not to be impressed with how they have set this up. 

The model at your side is also beautiful, but you remind yourself it is not a competition. You focus on the whispers of anticipation from the guests, the rustle of the dresses as people pass in merry groups, clinking their glasses and finishing their champagne as they take their seats. Everything looks perfect, plucked from magazines and tasteful brochures. This must be what Alexia wanted. 

Your date is occupying herself in conversation with the man seated next to you, who might be hitting on her, though you don’t care. She slides a hand over your thigh anyway. 

The ceremony begins, although you’re not really concentrating on it. You try to focus, listening as the officiant speaks, but the words have become a dull hum. It’s all so rehearsed, so expected, and it’s boring. You won’t be getting married anytime soon, that’s for sure. 

You know the flow of these things: the vows, the promises, the kiss, and the crowd’s applause. It’s a performance, though it’s not quite a farce. 

And then, it comes. The moment. The one that feels like a trap. 

The officiant pauses, glancing out over the gathering. “Si algú s'hi oposa, que parli ara o calli per sempre.”

For a heartbeat, time slows. The air thickens. Every muscle in your body tenses and the world around you goes still. You catch yourself holding your breath, gaze instinctively shifting to the woman standing at the front of the altar. 

Alexia. 

Her eyes flicker briefly in your direction – just a flicker, but it’s there, unmistakable. It’s her moment of hesitation, well masked but clear as day to you. But before you can make sense of it, she’s looking away, eyes fixed back onto Olga. Her expression hardens, more composed now, and you know that you are not going to break this silence. 

The officiant, oblivious to the storm passing between you both, waits for a beat longer before continuing, his voice echoing in the silence. 

And she’s married. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s over now. You’ve let her win. 

[vonbabbitt]

big long kamimura loredrop that i sent to my tetro staff two years ago. obvious spoilers and trigger warning for a lot of stuff. not for the weak of heart. also forgive the very casual tone this is written in i was sending it to my STAFF!! MY FRIENDS!! it has not been curated for public release lol

KAMIMURA KAZUTOSHI. WOW. LOTS TO UNPACK HERE. so kamimura was born as a very sickly kid. his parents were initially planning to have two kids, but when kamimura was born with very particular needs, they decided it would be better to dedicate their full time and attention to just one kid. so thats what they did! kamimura was born with a few conditions that made his childhood a bit rougher, the main of which being hemophilia, an (at the time) unidentified autoimmune disease and a few lesions on his brain. not ideal! so he was in and out of the hospital a lot as a kid, something that was very scary for him at the time, but his parents were very very supportive and loving during this time. they would be at the hospital with him every single time he had to be there (obvs cuz he was a tiny baby boy) and his mom would not go home until he was discharged. she would always be there telling him stories and playing games with him and doing her best to make the experience as comfortable as possible for him. so that made it less scary!

kamimura had a very good support system and it made him a very happy and social kid! he grew up very outgoing and playful and eager and close with his family. his dad was a busy guy who worked in tech, so while he was usually at work, his mom worked from home as a copy editor, so he spent a lot of time with her. as he started to get a little older (7-8), a few more comorbidities and diagnoses started popping up - chronic fatigue, crohns, some vision problems, muscle issues, things that made his life a lot more difficult and worried his parents because he was getting bad fast. this meant a lot more time in the hospital for baby kamimura which is very unfortunate for him. eventually he gets put on a new balance of medications/treatments and his family keeps doing their best because goddamnit their kid should get to be a happy kid! which he is! hes a very happy kid! hes just also a kid with a LOT of medical issues

SO THEN WE HIT AGE NINE. kamimuras mother is home alone with him when a close family friend drops by. hes someone kamimura knows very well - comes to all their parties, visits often, etc etc. but he was also someone who had very strong feelings towards kamimuras mom. he had confessed to her multiple times and obviously she had said no because she is married with a child and was not interested at all. except this time hes completely fed up with it. she says no, he gets aggressive and violent and tries to overpower her. she fights back, he panics and stabs her. a lot. repeatedly. over and over and over. so the kitchen is an absolute bloodbath. not good! a few minutes into this, kamimuras dad gets home from work and is very quickly added to the body count. family friend runs, and about ten minutes later, kamimura gets home from school.

so now this nine year old boy has walked in on his parents mutilated bodies lying in a sea of blood on the kitchen floor. his mind basically shuts down. he cannot even begin to process the ways in which his entire world has just come crumbling down. he goes upstairs to his room, closes the door, and proceeds to stay there for two days straight. if he can just stay in his room and not go outside, no matter what he saw, no matter what he smells, he can pretend that everything is fine and theres nothing downstairs.

after two days of this, kamimura's dad's work calls for a wellness check. a wellness check is performed! EVERYTHING IS NOT WELL. the police find kamimura, remove him from the house and into the system he goes. pretty soon he ends up living with his moms sister, who isnt a mean person or anything, but she never wanted kids and shes just lost her sister and shes going through a lot so she never really connects with kamimura. she feeds him and houses him and does her best, but hes completely shut off emotionally and very traumatized and wants nothing to do with this new life thats been put on him so he mostly ignores her and just goes through the beats of life.

from this point on, he has no friends. he doesnt get close to anyone. he doesnt try to. he shuts himself off, keeps to himself and gets picked on a bit because of it. hes outcast at school pretty quickly and that does not do much to help his mental health. it doesnt help that his PHYSICAL health is still deteriorating pretty fast and hes now living with somebody that has NO experience in taking care of his medical needs. hes still in the hospital all the time, but now hes alone and its quiet and hes scared. he hates hospitals. he hates going to the hospital so so so so much because hospitals are scary and it only serves to drive home the complete lack of his mom existing that is haunting him every day. it doesnt help that hiding out in a corpse house for two days has given him a deep, DEEP fear of anything dirty or putrid in the way that his parents' crime scene was. this evolves into a pretty bad case of germophobia that makes him hate hospitals even more because theyre disgusting infected places where people go to die and rot. bad.

but life continues! so when he turns 14, kamimura goes to high school for the first time! its also around this time that he finally dyes his hair - his black hair makes him look exactly like his mom and he cant handle seeing that every time he looks in the mirror, so blue it is! because blue does not look like either of his parents and now he doesnt have to fking see their faces every single time he looks at himself. yay! so he enters high school, his mental health is tanking, his physical health is tanking and everything is bad. high school is equally bad because hes still getting bullied and he feels sick all the time and school is stressful and he is completely lacking in socialization. so at age 14, kamimura tries to kill himself for the first time. it does not work. he goes to the hospital and very hastily explains it to his aunt as having simply fucked up his own medication and says it was all an accident because fuuuuck he does NOT want to be institutionalized. that would suck. and luckily this excuse works and he's back out in the world soon after. yay?

anyway life goes on! so kamimura goes back to school. except weirdly enough, he actually starts talking to another person. this person is named isao kamei and he is a boy in kamimuras grade! hes nice and cool and hangs out with kamimura and likes kamimuras dumb blue hair and likes all the things kamimura likes (scary movies. breaking random shit behind the school after class. yknow) so the two hit it off pretty quickly and soon kamimura has a best friend. except, uh oh, maybe hes more than a best friend?? kamimura starts realizing that hes got feelings for isao and panics because he does not need this complication ruining his one and only friendship. kamimura has had severe severe trust issues for years now and has finally let himself get close to another person again and he CANNOT LOSE THAT. but isao is a good guy, and theyre close, and kamimura is starting to think that isao feels the same way about him so maybe hed be cool about it. it goes against every instinct he has spent the past five years cultivating, but he finally works up the nerve and admits to isao how he feels about him.

IT GOES BADLY. SO BADLY. isao is uncomfortable and frankly kind of disgusted and pulls back HARD. he basically distances himself from kamimura forever and word very very quickly spreads (starting from isao) that kamimura is gay and that he asked out isao, something that absolutely quadruples the amount of bullying he is receiving. so a few days later, kamimura tries to kill himself for the second time. once again it does not go well. he gets very very very sick, but still wakes up in the end and is absolutely miserable and furious about it. his awful awful awful life continues to march on as always and hes back at school pretty soon after that! he continues getting relentlessly bullied, his health continues to deteriorate, and finally during one of his numerous numerous hospital visits he gets hit with two fun new terms: multiple sclerosis and myasthenia gravis. these are the two things that produce the vast majority of his symptoms. so at the very least he now has a few words to label himself with, but hes not really that thrilled about it either way. kamimura is someone with a lot of internalized ableism and resentment towards his own body. he sees it as the reason his life sucks and the reason he gets bullied and the reason he cant live like other people can. he hates himself, and that makes him hate himself even more because his parents always made such a big deal about telling him how much they loved him and how much he should love himself, so he feels like hes betraying them by absolutely loathing himself and his body.

so at sixteen, he tells his aunt he wants to move out. they arent close and he just wants to be on his own and honestly shes on board with this because she never wanted kids and shes ready to go back to her life. so out the door he goes! hes got his own apartment now, which means theres nobody to make him get out of bed or shower or eat or go to school. so he stops doing all of those things, which makes his health deteriorate faster and makes him even more miserable. so at age sixteen, kamimura makes a third attempt on his life. he learned his lesson last time and ups the dosage hard. except he cant keep it down because he hasnt been eating anything for like two weeks and his stomach just physically cannot handle the amount of medication hes ingesting. so this one fails too. but life goes on and kamimura needs to pay rent! his landlord thinks he is strange and concerning and wants to help him so he manages to get kamimura an apprenticeship with a man named ryōichi katō, a very experienced crime scene cleaner! kamimura EXCELS in this field. hes able to shut off his emotions around blood and viscera - his brain just completely blocks out the horror of it, which is almost a coping mechanism i suppose - but the point is that hes great at it. he starts working full time and it pays the bills well enough so hes got nothing to complain about quite frankly.

except his life still sucks. hes alone. hes sick. he hates himself. everything is bad bad bad bad bad. so at a particularly bad mental low at age seventeen, kamimura makes a fourth attempt on his life. this one has GOT to work because he has been honing this method for years now and SURELY he has worked out the kinks by this point yes? so he downs a shitton of pills, washes it down with cheap booze and passes out. then he wakes up in the Fujioka Memorial High School Basement Laundry Room and now we are here

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Editing Your Novel Part 2: The Plot Pass

Okay, it's finally time to edit. You've got all your materials sorted, it's time to dive right in. You want to start with the big edits first, aka the plot pass.

Now listen. You're going to want to linger and fix those little bits of grammar or dialogue, and I know it's so hard not to, but letting yourself get off-track might mean wasting hours on a scene you realize later you have to delete. Fix a few spelling errors, leave a note, and stay plot-focused.

Making Sense (Of the Plot)

In the plot pass, you're asking yourself some basic questions:

Do events follow a clear order? - When you're getting everything down on the page for the first time, scenes might get jumbled up or events might not have clear causes. Maybe you have a car crashing into the cafe pages before, but in a writing haze, you wrote your main characters having a casual conversation moments later. If the bad guy beats your heroes to treasure, is it clear how they got there? (Not everyone can be Yzma.)

Do circumstances feel contrived? If there are any problems that can be solved by your characters sitting down and talking to each other, it may be better to lean into their motivation for not speaking to each other, rather than coming up with bad romcom scenarios. If the plot can be resolved by the mcguffin the grandma had the whole time, it might be better to make finding that mcguffin part of the plot instead.

It doesn't have to be perfect, and you don't have to reinvent the wheel. If someone gets bitten by a werewolf, it's perfectly fine to have them turn into one at the worst possible moment. When it comes to contrived, you're looking for problems that seem easy to solve and look for more interesting ways to complicate them.

Are your character motivations consistent to the characters throughout the story? - They can change throughout the story, but character motivations do need to be linked to the actions they take. An out-of-nowhere betrayal is way more satisfying if you lay the groundwork for it ahead of time.

Take a moment to list out the motivations of the characters in a scene you're not quite sure of can help you figure how to fix it. Having an outline helps with this a lot!

Are you following an "if... then" format? - My brain doesn't work like this when I'm writing, because as a writer you know how A got to Z, and it seems (in your head) obvious how it happened. This is where my scene card outline come in handy, because I can look at my overview of what should happen and why, and then compare it to what actually happens in the scene. I've discovered so many threads I forgot to connect that way, like why a character had a certain device (I forgot to have him pick it up two scenes earlier), or adding a few simmering dialogue bits that make the big fight pay off much better.

Can you fix the "Because the Plot Demands It" scenes? - Look, sometimes your character needs to be in that haunted house to see that damn ghost, but your character isn't the type to set foot in such a place. It's really easy, especially in the first draft, to contrive a way in there (she took a wrong turn on her way to grandma's!), but retooling these scenes to connect them to the characters motivations and needs is the way to go. The main character doesn't want to go into that obviously cursed place, but her best friend hasn't shown up for school in three days and now she's crying for help from the second floor window. Your character's strong desire to be there for her friend is a much better way to get her into that house.

This is not always easy - it took me six fricken drafts to realize a critical part of a character's motivation was because his father blamed him for his mother's death - but it is going to be worth putting in the work to hammer down.

Do you have a solid timeline? - This might not seem as important, but it's super easy to accidentally fit two weeks worth of activities in three days. Make sure you have that on reference, even if you don't mention it in the book. Also make sure to gauge your distances if your characters are on a trip, because if you do accidentally say it takes two hours to drive from Seattle to Spokane instead of five, someone will dive down your throat for it. Not me. Just someone.

Okay, maybe me. Slow down, you maniacs.

Next post we'll dive into the structure pass. See you then!

[pompomchihuahua]

Sanemi Shinazugawa: A Man of the Pack

So, everyone has likely seen this image:

Wherein Muichirou likens all of the Hashira (most of the Hashira, poor Giyuu) to animals.

Today, I want to discuss why Sanemi being described as a wolf is particularly insightful and apt.

But first, let's take a look at wolves in nature, specifically on the nature of sibling relationships between wolves and how they relate back to Sanemi. In this analysis I'm gonna pull out a lot of terms like Alloparenting, kin selection, and cooperative breeding, but bear with me and I'll do my best to explain everything! (I may have abused my college library for fandom purposes, oopsies!)

You've probably heard by now that the classic "Alpha wolf" pack structure that was popularized in 1970's is very much a misrepresentation of actual wolf packs in the wild. Actual wolf packs are often made up of closely related individuals with one main breeding pair. This main breeding pair produces offspring, which then become members of the pack and participate in future hunts as well as future child rearing.

So! A "pack" is really just a family unit. Most are made up of the parents and all their offspring.

Now, you've probably heard the phrase, "It takes a village to raise a child."

If you have, congratulations! You now know the concept of Cooperative Breeding in a nutshell! Basically, cooperative breeding is a social structure characterized by alloparental care. Alloparental care is any form of parental care performed by an individual towards young that are not its direct offspring. Such as...

...an older sibling raising their younger sibling.

Alloparenting is actually incredibly rare among mammals, with only about 3% of species exhibiting this behavior, the most famous of which being humans and wolves.

This is because it is a form of altruism, wherein an individual sacrifices something for the benefit of another individual. In the case of wolves, this may be food, time, or other resources as siblings will take up feeding, warming, and guarding duties while the alpha pair and other siblings are on a hunt.

Sanemi is a family-oriented man. His entire character is driven by family (and yes, this does include the likes of Masachika and Kanae, which I will discuss later).

His early life revolved around raising his siblings. When they passed and he was forced to kill his mother, his life shifted then to revolve solely around Genya, his remaining pack.

What I find interesting is the way Sanemi looks at the world through a lens of family orientation. Close friends are not simply "friends," they are family, and thus, pack. For example, Masachika became an older brother figure to him. In signs from the wind, when he was becoming Kanae, he looked at her the same way he would look at his mother. Even the way he views Tengen is through the lens of an older brother figure.

"He often acts like an older brother."

He talks to Shinobu "since she's Kanae's little sister." (thus, in a way, extended pack).

Hell, even his annoyance at Giyuu makes more sense when put into this light. Putting aside his glaring inferiority complex (and really, we shouldn't because it does play a huge role into why he hates Giyuu), we see that Giyuu very much plays into the "lone wolf" archetype. Something that very much goes against the pack-oriented nature of wolves.

Even calling Giyuu a lone wolf is a bit of a misnomer. Wolves leave the pack with the intention of starting a new pack. Thus, lone wolves are actively seeking companionship, something Giyuu is very much not doing (at least not consciously).

It clashes against Sanemi's very nature as a man of the pack. This "I'm not like the rest of you," shtick. It not only implies he's somehow above them in Sanemi's mind, but it also defies the natural order of how Sanemi perceives the world.

Despite his brash attitude, his openness is rated at 60% and he's often depicted within the inner group of the hashira.

He's not a social butterfly, but he is by no means a loner. Just look at how well he gets along with Obanai!

So, returning to the wolf analogy, we know that Sanemi is a pack-oriented man who places the survival of his family above all else. Let's talk about why wolves are so invested in their family members survival.

It's a concept known as Kin Selection.

Kin selection is where a trait is favored by the success of the individual's relatives that possess it and successfully pass it on.

Think of it like this: You share approximately 50% of your genes with your full sibling (with identical twins sharing 100%!). You also share 50% of your genes with your parent. You share just as much genetic material with a sibling as you would with your own child.

Theoretically, your sibling's success is also your success genetically.

This is, of course, a hotly debated topic, however.

Not every wolf is interested in starting their own pack. Let's talk about 0'6, the most famous wolf in Yellowstone. Specifically, let's talk about her mate's brother, 754M, who, instead of starting his own pack, followed his brother, 755M and joined his pack instead where he went on to help raise his pups as an uncle and served as a sort of third pack leader.

Which, is reminiscent of Sanemi's stance in the main story. His dreams are for Genya to find a "mate" and have "pups" of his own and build his own pack. And while Sanemi has no plans of being there physically, he plans to spend his life fiercely guarding Genya's pack, much like 754M.

Once again, however, the validity of kin selection among wolves is a a bit of a hot bed among animal behavioralists and evolutionary biologists, but it is applicable in this case to Sanemi.

Sanemi very much does not care for his own success. He says himself that if he should die, he would die with a sword in his teeth, taking out as many demons as he can while Genya has a bushel of kids.

Sanemi being described as one of the most family oriented and surprisingly altruistically loyal mammals is one of the most apt metaphors Muichirou could have chosen for him.

Everything from how Sanemi views the world to how he operates to even his appearance and tenacity can best be described as wolf-like.

Including, me thinks, the fandom's tendency to demonize him. Wolves are one of the most misunderstood animals out there and lately a lot of light has been shed on the beautiful creatures. With the Infinity castle movies so close to releasing, I think the same shift in perspective will be coming for Sanemi soon as well.

Now to link my sources! Hoo boy. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. Here.

[lbulldesigns]

Proof that Jinx Ziggs has a heart

I'm currently writing the first chapter of my Jinx!Ironman AU fic ❤���❤️❤️

I don't have an estimate of when it will be finished just yet because I keep going back and rewriting and editing as I go, but as soon as I finish I'll be announcing it here on Tumblr.

In the meantime, here is a list of character that I've come up with so far:

Powder "Jinx" Ziggs -

Jinx is obviously playing Tony Stark. There are some diversions from Tony Stark's character. For one, Jinx will still have her family and is a single mother to Isha. She is somewhat estranged from her family because of her busy lifestyle.

She also has a history of struggling with psychosis and is prone to auditory hallucinations but has made leaps and bounds in handling her condition.

Another diversion is that she built up her wealth independently, unlike Tony, who came from generational wealth.

Her company is called Jinx Industries, and even though her legal name is Powder, she prefers to be called Jinx.

She also prefers to go by her birth parent's names, because she's scared that their name will be gone forever if she doesn't go by it.

Isha Connie Ziggs -

Is Jinx's biological daughter, she was conceived by accident when her mother's gynecologist messed up their schedule and impregnated Jinx instead of inserting an IUD. Jinx used the settlement from suing the clinic to invest in her company. She also doesn't know who the sperm donor is, but that information will be coming to light later on in the story.

Jinx does what she can to keep Isha out of the public eye, for her own safety and to try and give her a somewhat normal childhood.

Isha absolutely loves her mother, and bugs ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Sevika Wafiya -

Sevika was a close friend to Felicia during her pregnancy with Jinx, and became Jinx's godmother when she was born.

She has been by Jinx's side her whole life, and they act more like sisters than mother and daughter. They are constantly butting heads. However, when Jinx needs advice or needs help cleaning up a mess, Sevika is who she'll go to.

When Jinx started her business, Sevika was the one to step in and help her get it up and running.

Her role in the company now is basically as a Jack of all trades. She runs the security in Jinx Industries, steps in and fills in for Jinx when Jinx isn't available such as when she doesn't turn up to claim an award or just decides to skip an important interview, and keeps things running smoothly alongside Lux.

When Jinx went missing, she organized for Isha to be sent to her family for safekeeping and got to work making sure that some of the more greedy board members didn't take Jinx's absence as an opportunity to grab the CEO seat.

She is loyal to Jinx.

Yasuo Hiraoka (I don't know Yasuo's full name in LoL, so I came up with one myself) -

Yasuo is Isha's personal bodyguard, Jinx hired him after a kidnapping attempt when Isha was four. Jinx and Sevika didn't play around with Isha's safety and sought out a former assassin to keep the little girl safe.

Yasuo is a very patient man and has developed a mild obsession with Animal Crossing. He and Isha play together often.

He is extremely protective of Isha.

Luxanna Crownsguard -

Lux is Jinx's personal assistant, she basically plays the role of Pepper Potts but isn't a romantic interest. Her and Jinx are best friends, and she is Isha's godmother.

Lux was disowned by her family for being an Inhuman and was given a job by Jinx, she takes her duties seriously and is one of the only people who can handle Jinx.

Vi Kirraman -

Vi is married to Caitlyn, and is a former Enforcer. She quit after a near death experience on the job and realized that she actually really hated her work and wanted to do something different with her life.

She opened her own gym that mostly caters to Enforcers, soldiers, MMA fighters, and so on.

She's currently working from home, due to reasons.

Caitlyn Kirraman -

Caitlyn is the Commander of the Twin City Forces and basically plays the role of Rhodey in this AU, she was previously an Enforcer but transferred over to the Twin City Forces when it was established as a means to draw Zaun and Piltover closer together.

She works quite a bit with Jinx, they used to be at each others throats but have somehow managed to form a solid friendship over the years. Caitlyn is Jinx's only real connection to the rest of her family.

She is career-driven and a bit of a workaholic but tries to make time for her family as they are extremely important to her.

When Jinx goes missing, she jumps right into action and is determined to bring her sister-in-law home to her family.

Mylo Lanes -

Owns several businesses in fashion, locksmithing, and even a dive bar.

He is currently single but is in the process of courting Gert, a DJ who works closely with The Chemical Sisters.

Claggor Lanes -

Is a botanist, who is working on improving Zaun's air quality using plants (much like his S2E7 AU self). He works closely with Ekko.

Claggor has his own daughter, named Cleo who is four-years-old. Cleo's mother is Sona Buvelle (I read a Star Guardians fic once where her and Claggor were sweet on each other, and just had to get them together for this one <3).

Sona Buvelle -

Is a virtuoso, and Inhuman. Who is engaged to Claggor Lanes, who she shares a four-year-old daughter with. She plays in the Piltover Grand Orchestre, on the high harp and grand piano, and is well renowned for her beautiful music.

Ekko Bennett -

Is Jinx's ex-best friend and ex-lover, they were never actually official but were close enough. They had a falling out due to miscommunication, and some meddling from Ekko's birth parents who thought knew what was best for their son, despite not being very present in his life. Due to this meddling, Ekko and Jinx had a falling out resulting in Jinx moving overseas, to Bilgewater, and cutting contact with Ekko.

When Ekko found out about the meddling he cut contact with his parents, and tried to get in contact with Jinx but it was too late.

He threw himself into his work in physics, engineering, and bio-engineering. He works tirelessly to improve the environmental status of Zaun with Claggor, and spends a lot of his free time working with the community and following Jinx's work even though he doesn't approve of her weapons manufacturing.

He suspects that Isha might be his daughter, and is pissed with Jinx for keeping him away.

There's still a bit more world-building to be done, but here are a few things to keep in mind:

The AU is set in Runetrra not Earth

Yordles, Vasteyans, Chireans, and other magical beings in LoL are citizens

Magic is a thing, but it isn't commercialized

Hex-Tech is a controversial technology

Piltover and Zaun are separate states but Piltover is constantly working on trying to merge with Zaun again

And, Vander and Silco's relationship is a great big question mark to everyone, they keep calling each other brothers but live together and raise four kids together and are always touchy-feely.

Anyhoo, this is what I have so far. I tried not to give away to much here because I want to leave some mystery for the actual story.

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐇𝐂'𝐒

Headcanons about my 2nd wife because she’s under appreciated in the writing community😔

She’s a professional spoiler—gives you all types of jewelry, clothes, even as small as simple notes; it’s her love language

As you slowly woke up from sleep, turning to the nightstand, there was an envelope. A smile plastered across your face, you were quick to open it, knowing it was from her. It was written in her beautiful handwriting, small doodles in each corner.

I love waking up next to you every morning, it’s a beautiful sight to see when I open my eyes.

A sketch of you laid at the bottom of the paper; your every feature highlighted by her skilled hands.

Although she has a neutral and put-together attitude in public, once she’s alone with you, she’s allows herself to be vulnerable.

Makes a lot of sketches of you, when you’re sleep, concentrated, eating, basically doing anything.

She gets a bit silly sometimes, whether it’s making faces or gestures unconsciously.

“And uh—em…” she moved her hands around in circles as she struggled to explain something. You slightly furrowed your eyebrows, a small smile on your face, “What are you doing?” Her eyes averted from your face to her hands, feeling embarrassed.

Absolutely an art nerd; she will talk about every single painting she’s ever admired and explain microscopic details

Has had frequent nightmares since being trapped in the oculorum. Moments before, she’d watched her only friend die, destroyed in a matter of seconds at the hands of the Black Ross. She was kept there for months, fearing for her life, being deceived left and right. Her own brother, she truly thought he was alive…it was all a lie.

She sat up straight, chest heaving as she tried to collect her thoughts. Kino, Elora. She felt suffocated, as if oxygen was being stolen from her lungs. A hand found it’s way to her back and she flinched until she heard your face, “Mel, it’s just me.” She turned and looked at your face, full of concern and sympathy. There wasn’t a verbal response but she clung to your body, silently hoping that this wasn’t a hallucination.

It wasn’t until she felt you squeeze her body twice that she was fully relieved. You have this act of reassurance where you squeeze her twice so she knows that what she’s experiencing is real.

Often gets up really early to watch the sun rise. It’s so unreal how all the colors blend together in the sky and created this gorgeous image.

Has like the best diet ever, of course

Tells you stories of her childhood in Noxus, what her mother was like, why she got exiled.

Her hands are always cold for no particular reason

You jumped when you felt a freezing sensation trace your back. She pulled her hand back, “It’s just my hand,” she smiled. “Why are your hands always ice-cold?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows, she gave a small shrug in response. You took her hands in yours to warm them up a little, “I appreciate this,” she said softly as her eyes met yours.

Is usually the big spoon but won’t mind being a little spoon. She loves having your arms wrapped around her.

If you give her an attitude, she will somehow eliminate it without even saying anything.

You gave a huff, “It’s not like you’d know anything about it.” The words came with an eye roll, you’ve been like this since the morning and she was getting pretty tired. She’d ignored it, assuming you’d figure it out on your own but clearly you didn’t. She raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowed, and she saw the moment where you realized. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled out apologetically. “Apology accepted, but don’t make it a habit,” she uncrossed her arms and held your hand.

[buddiekinard]

Hi, Jamie! My brain won’t stop thinking about your Buck/Shannon snip from the other day. Does Buck find excuses to hang around and talk to her at the coffe shop until he realizes he’ll look desperate if he names one more reason he can stay? Or y’know any other Thoughts you might be having about Them 💞

I keep thinking about her having to go back to work in the afternoon and she doesn't really want to go because they're having such a great conversation. She hasn't really talked to any guys since she left Eddie and they got divorced via lawyers (because they're divorced here it's less messy), and Evan Buckley is sweet and funny and okay very very hot, and he's a firefighter! He saves lives. So when he asks for her number, she's like. a little hesitant because she's still working things out for herself and trying to get the courage to work her way back into Christopher's life, and maybe dating is the last thing she needs to do. But she says yes anyway because it's just nice to be flirted with. eddie was her last relationship and she was never flirted with in the end. it was never really good in the end. all they did was fight. so they meet for coffee a couple more times before he gets up the courage to ask her on a real date, and he ends up taking her to a really nice place and they talk about their exes - his a woman that left him and then just stopped texting him, hers an ex that was complicated and confusing and she's honest about just walking out but she maybe leaves out chris because she wants him to like her before she finds out he's kind of a horrible mother.

The thing is he really likes her and she likes him and he's kind of a gentleman. She tells him she hasn't dated in a while and he lets her take it slow. They kiss after the first date, on her doorstep, like fucking teenagers whose parents are waiting inside. It's so *nice*. And so they start dating.

And sometimes Buck mentions her at work but for some reason it just never dawns on Eddie that Shannon is his Shannon. Shannon is a common name, you know. But after a few dates when they finally sleep together, he says, hey, you should stop by the station after work some day. I'll show you around. You can meet the crew. They're family! It's basically home!

And so she does. She stops by on a random Wednesday. It's a normal day! They've been going out for about a month. She wants to meet his friends. She doesn't really have many people to introduce him to at the moment. Maybe Chris, some day, if she can get the courage to tell Eddie she wants to be back in their lives.

But then she asks to see Buck and the nice man who greets her goes upstairs and she hears Buck say

"Come on, man! You're going to love her. She's so beautiful. Just wait."

And Buck is coming downstairs with another man, and --

"Oh fuck."

"Shannon." Eddie just blinks at her.

"Hey, you know Shannon already?" Buck smiles. He goes over and greets her with a kiss to her cheek. "Eddie's my partner and best friend."

Of course he is because Shannon is very very unlucky.

"Buck." She frowns. "I know Eddie because he's my ex-husband."

"But that - that means you're - "

"Shannon is Chris' mother."

--TBC!!!!

[mirramirra05]

The beast of passion

Trapped on a island since the fall of the others, her once pure love has become that of obsession and perversion. The sounds of a trumpet will blind you're mind making you love her for all of eternity

and if you don't?

Well her snakes are quite hungry! And all 6 of you will make the perfect little snacks for them....

The hero of fate

A child of beast and cookie, in the shadow of her mother she tries her best to right the wrongs she's grown up with. Her loom,her hands, and the red twine that brings cookies together work to fix and reveal that of true love. she promises to bring real love back to the kingdom and not the sounds of obsession that invades the ears of others and coils around them like a poisonous snake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello!!!

Id like to welcome at-least two of my cookie run kingdom OC's

My beast cookie- whipped butter cookie/calypso cookie

My ancient hero cookie- mixed chocolate cream cookie

The idea of whipped is based off of Calypso and Scylla from epic the musical/homers Odyssey with the idea of that instead of being trapped in the silver tree with the other beast she was placed/trapped by the witches to stay on a island never to be rescued or found purposely by others.

Every cookie that ends up on her island are shipwreck survivors or people lost at sea, very rarely if not at all does anyone make it off the island cause of the witches spell and whips magic too. Her trumpet is basically mind control and a love spell in one causing anyone to hear it to fall madly in love with the one who plays it. She plays her trumpet constantly to keep the spell from fading and in her twisted mind her losing her loved ones.

The Scylla position of her is her physical looks, she has six snakes that are connected to her each one is alive but their minds are like a hive mind, connected and act out the main brains commands. All though each snake is poisonous with different levels of poison. The lower 3 the ones closer to her body are more so used to threaten or put someone their place there poison is weaker, the top 3 the ones close to her sould jam/gem are the ones that kill the ones she considers "heartbreaker's".

With mixed chocolate she is actually more of a self insert then OC cause she's based off of me by my race cause I am mixed ( white American and black/mixed Jamaican) so she is a mixed white and dark chocolate frosting cookie. The only thing I changed was she is also based of of Penelope and circe from epic/the Odyssey.

Penelope from her weaving and her desire/ her waiting for real love not the obsession she has seen her whole life.

While circe due to her magic abilities with the red string and her deep care and protectiveness of the cookies she loves and care for. ( The cake hound she has used to be a cookie she considers her best friend, she turned them into a hound so that way her mother could never use her trumpet on them)

Both these characters are blood related as mixed is whipped full blood daughter. Mixed is immune to her mother spell due to being her daughter, the only reason why she doesn't stop her mother is because she does feel real love for her mom.

A cookie( either a milk or mixed chocolate based cookie) from dark cacaos kingdom had gotten lost at sea due to him traveling for a business position in a neighboring kingdom. Sadly like many cookies that end up on whipped island she keeps him there and even forces him to marry her, eventually bringing mixed into the world. Mixed father is still alive but he's kept trapped in the main palace of the island, constantly under whips spell to the point where he's a obsessive lovesick shell of the cookie he used to be.

Both of her parents don't truly love her , since her dad is always under a spell, and her mother is well a love obsessed beast. The only reason she knows that what she grew up with isn't real love is from visions given to her from a ✨higher power ✨ that show her what love is and she tries to learn from the people who end up on their island before they hear her mothers spell.

Anyways this is what I have so far for the two of them! I bring out more as I go!!!

[unfogged]

those of you who have been following me for years know how important my gram is to me. she passed away in february 2022 and today's her birthday. she'd have been 70. i miss her like crazy. i miss her beating my ass in board games, watching silly shows with her, doing puzzles, hanging out, complaining about my mom/her daughter. she's everything to me even still. happy birthday, gramma. te amo 💙

[radiance1]

Mystic Flour Cookie and Child Reader drabble

"Not even the very gods are immune to suffering." Mystic Flour Cookie whispered softly as she ran a hand through your hair. She knew not the reason, nor the power, that had brought you from your world into that of her own. But she couldn't find it within herself to be irritated or disquieted about that fact.

In fact, she could even say she was... pleased.

Whatever power had granted her one true desire... She was thankful to it. To drag the very god that pulled her from the void, imbuing her very dough with strength, bestowing upon her only but the best of toppings and a beascuit leaps and bounds ahead of others to lessen the time between each use of her power.

Even granting her own wishes.

Doing away with the flesh of your divine body in exchange for crispy, fresh dough. Infused with the divinity that you so truly deserved, despite having no level of enlightenment and then, to have you descend upon none other than her. For her to be the first and only one to be granted the privilege of laying eyes upon your new vessel.

Yes.

She was pleased.

"One day, you and I shall crumble, too." She murmured, staring at you through half-lidded eyes. She wiped away the tears at the edges of your eyes with the edge of her sleeve. "Yet that day, shall not be today."

Such a truly benevolent deity you were. This kingdom... Its Cookies... Their ideals of peace, friendship, love and joy. All of it, would be non-existent without you, without the very foundation you laid out for them... The effort and time you put into a world not even your own.

Even going as far as granting wishes.

Cookies... Such greedy creatures. They cannot, will not, comprehend the true depths your very presence entailed, what effort and suffering you had gone through to make this kingdom as truly grand as it was.

They will take you for granted, just as the Cookies of far ages past had done for her. Taking and taking, wanting and wanting, demanding more, and more from the deity that merely wanted the best for them.

In the end, the greed of those who you wished to keep happy would be your downfall....

But why would she let you go through such suffering, to reach the same conclusion she had reached herself....?

You were here. Safe with her. Only, with her.

And the Realm of Apathy shallow envelop you... Welcome you... Protect you....

Yes...

She smiled, eyes slipping closed as he continued to run a hand through your hair.

The greed of Cookies... The suffering and woes of life... Apathy shall shield you from all.

Until the day you, and she, returns to flour....

[thedvilsinthedetails]

goodnight tumblr

Fair warning the ramble in the tags is long af

[heavierthanlaila]

the solidarity stage of my life's game is super boring i can't wait to get to the next level.

[justaweirdonothingtoseehere]

Dear grown man who just walked by singing the lyrics to Jessie: Thank you. You have made my day a bit better.

[setaflow]

I haven't gotten very far in Starfield yet but looking back it's kinda hilarious that I basically went to the character creator and I guess subconsciously decided "I'm gonna make her the exact opposite of my CP2077 character" right down to them having the exact opposite hair color.

[kingslionheart]

today my mother met my favourite regular at the bar I used to work at and, after asking her thousands of questions about me, he told her "this place is sadder since she left".

he made my whole day without even knowing it.

I abruptly decided to quit that job over a month ago because it was ruining my mental health in ways that were actually scaring me and one of the things that terrified me the most about leaving is that my bosses could have started to spread lies about me to our regulars to make me look like the bad guy in the situation and therefore save their own faces from bad reputation for mistreating employees.

hearing something like that from the one person that literally gave me the strength to go to yet another day at work immediately silenced so many of those worries.

that 95 years old man is a treasure.

[b0mblover]

Hate, in Every Sense of the Word.

By: J

major tws for; suicide mention, domestic abuse, abuse, sexual assult mention, murder mention, (really just alot of violence tbh) self harm mention

uh, sorry? that theres so many tws, ig also minor tw for mention of sex too.

uh haha i uh, can you tell what happened tonight? it wasnt even the worst one, just, im tired of it.

talk abt living out of spite bc mannnn, thats all i been going off of for a good while now!

i uh, i really wanna make a certain food bc um. (LOOK I WANNA MAKW A LESS OILY FUCKER OKAY) but my father is awake meaning my mother will be too soon but im scared to even go out of my room bc theyre prob gonna fighttt.

hhhrbd okok ill shut up for now, go ahead and read the angry jirou bullshit ig 😭

(oh yea, if it wasn’t obvious. im talking about my mother in this.)

——————————

yknow,

you havent been a great person

or a good one even.

yet you still question as to why i dont love you

or like you,

maybe you have an idea of how much i hate you.

maybe not

i dont really care about your feelings.

at all.

not now.

i put up with this for fucking 14 years.

my entire fucking life.

ive put up with your shit.

but now?

now im done.

you have no idea how badly you fucked up.

when he said that “im sorry im a fuck up” 

yknow.

he mightve not been right for what he did.

but,

it was just a mistake.

it was a goddamn mistake.

you have any idea how many times ive uttered those words too?

how many times ive repeated them?

how many times i fucking meant it?

just because you “had it bad” doesnt mean shit to me.

you have no goddamn right to treat others the same way.

dont give me that “i dont know how else to act!”

bullshit.

bullshit you dont.

you treated your damn boyfriend just fine!

you had a goddamn kid

you had two goddamn children.

with this man that you fucking DESPISE.

you knew it back then too.

you told me you did.

you fucking told me.

almost nothing can compare to the anger i feel to you right now.

nothing.

you have no right to act like that.

no.

you have no goddamn right to hit another fucking living being.

for such a simple mistake.

i dont care if he talked about it since friday.

i dont give a fuck if he talked about it for months.

you.

you as a goddamn human.

have no right.

none.

in the slighest.

to hit another living being.

for talking about something in your eyes “too much”

or making a mistake.

youre a hypocrite.

need i remind you?

you said that after you broke up with the man you were having an affair with.

that youd be a better person.

stop the fights.

stop the beatings.

stop all of it.

and everything would be okay!

.

i didn’t believe you for a goddamn millisecond.

youre a liar.

just how you said i was.

you didnt quit.

you didnt stop.

hell two months after you hit him again!

you threatened to kill him and yourself!

cmon.

dont you get it yet?

i fucking despise you.

maybe to a degree i feel shocked.

but.

i really dont think thats it.

youre the root of my problems.

every single last fucking one.

——————

need i remind you as how i had to learn to cook, because you were too busy with your damn boyfriend to help me?

.

need i remind you how when i tried to show you that i was fucking cutting myself when i was 9 you only talked about how it looked ugly?

.

need i remind you about how many times you said that you didnt care if i hurt myself as long as no one can see it?

.

need i remind you about how you ignored the rope burn on my neck god knows how many times?

.

need i remind you how you denied fucking multiple peoples sexual assault because “it couldntve been like that”?

.

need i remind you of how many times i almost had to be hospitalized because of your neglect?

.

need i remind you of how many nights i spent alone, in the cold, in the dead of winter, just because you wanted to fuck your boyfriend?

.

need i remind you of what you yelled at me so many times?

.

need i remind you of what i seen?

.

need i remind you of how many times you blamed your abusive behaviors on medication?

.

need i fucking remind you of my entire purpose?

.

i dont care about your feelings anymore.

i gave up years ago.

but now.

i dont feel just numb for you.

i hate you.

in every sense of the word.

.

i dont care of what you or anyone else thinks of me.

.

i dont care about what you think of my appearance.

.

i dont care if you think im too thin or fat or whatever word youll use next.

.

i dont care about what you think because you’ll hate me no matter what.

.

you thought id stop being xxxx when you broke up with him.

you yelled at me.

no.

you fucking screamed at me for weeks.

im tired of even putting in the slighest effort of acting as if i fucking care.

i dont give a fuck about you.

and yknow?

if.

no.

if it would work.

if it was possible.

id fucking kill you.

id stab you.

right here.

right now.

to end my suffering.

to end his suffering.

all of it.

id end it all.

i dont care if its wrong.

because i know no one else knows about whats going on.

yknow.

only one person around here knows what youve done to him and me.

and i havent even met her in person.

yknow.

the people i used to be close with from school.

only just learned you had an affair.

i know that.

the police are do-less.

since you know them.

and hes a man.

not a woman.

it wouldnt be taken seriously.

that he should just fight back.

yknow.

youve ruined what life he has left.

his parents beat him.

his ex wife beat him, and cheated on him.

and here.

youve done the exact same thing.

yknow.

he’ll never get to see how love truely is.

because of you.

because of what youve done.

i cant say i really like him either.

but.

that doesnt give you the right to ruin his life.

.

yknow whats worse?

how i know the only reason that so far youve never dared to lay a finger on me.

is because ive proved that i won’t hesitate to beat the fuck out of you right back.

i know i joke about that night.

but.

really.

hitting you for doing that was the best decision i couldve made.

its kept me safer than i wouldve been for years. 

and even now.

if you were to as so much to touch me.

while in a fight.

id do it all over again.

you maybe 100 pounds heavier than me.

but you dont know how to fight against someone who wont just sit there and take it.

i wont forgive you for what youve done.

even if he will.

.

i want nothing to do with you.

get out of my life for good.