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adidastain · 5 months

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bad decisions

1996 serj tankian x fem reader (y/n)

warnings: a little smutty (cockwarming)

notes: all lowercase, first person perspective (I, me, my, etc.)

word count: 2893

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long-time best friends, adrenaline, and freezing temperatures create the perfect recipe for poor decision-making.

thank god his place was only 4 blocks away from the venue.

“i don’t believe in global warming anymore.” his trembling voice carried easily in the cold, breezeless air. serj cursed under his breath through gritted and chattering teeth.

i scoffed. “we’re almost there,” i said, equally as trembly. it wasn’t this fucking cold when we left, 4 hours ago. now everything was covered in a thin layer of frost, and if we hadn’t kept moving, we might’ve been too.

serj didn’t have his own car and i didn’t have my license, so we were forced to walk a measly 4 blocks to the local niche concert venue, which really doesn’t seem like much of a trek. now try walking 4 blocks home in below freezing temperatures. we’d met some friends at the concert and had a pretty good time, but failed to account for the fact that it was past 12 AM by the time it was over, nonetheless in the middle of january. and of course, like the geniuses we were, we’d left before we could catch a ride.

“why didn’t we get a taxi?” i asked rhetorically, letting go of a heavy sigh that i could see in the form of a thin cloud in front of me as it escaped my lips.

“we don’t have any cash,” he laughed. he paused his steps for a brief moment to dig in his pockets. “right?”

“right,” i shivered. “genius, aren’t we?”

serj smiled at my joke. “genius enough to decide to walk home instead of getting a ride. remarkable.”

i playfully punched his arm. “seriously though,” he continued. “global warming my ass.”

“it’s midnight in mid-january, serj. i don’t know what to tell you,” i smiled, now walking backwards in front of him.

“yeah, in southern california. you would think it never gets this cold. my dick is fucking shrinking, y/n.”

i snorted and scrunched up my nose. for some reason, that was always my reaction when he said my name like that. i wasn’t sure if it was his tone, his accent, or something else.

we finally landed on his doorstep and i waited patiently behind him as his trembling hands frantically fumbled with the keys while trying to unlock the front door. serj then dropped said keys and i laughed at him.

“you try unlocking your front door when you can’t feel your fingers,” he playfully hissed at me while i picked up his keyring for him.

eventually we made it inside. it was warmer but not very much. the air was calmer though, we were in our safe bubble.

i flopped onto his couch while serj set his keys on the kitchen counter and winced. “my dick is fucking frozen,” he whined while running his fingers through his long, curly hair. i sat up and smiled at him, watching him pull his hair back into a ponytail.

“why don’t you grow out a beard, keep your face warm,” i suggested, standing back up and stepping towards him. “you already have a little bit of pedo stubble.” i laughed as he swatted my hand away from scratching his chin.

“did you know that thinking about sex can make your facial hair grow faster?” he changed the subject.

“you must not think about sex very often,” i teased, trying to hide my smirk.

serj rolled his eyes, palming my face and pushing me away. i hated it when he did that and he knew it. “rude,” i scoffed, following him to his bedroom.

“er, excuse me, love. i’ll be changing in here now,” he said in a godawful attempt at a british accent, stopping me at the doorway. i flicked his forehead out of revenge and he snorted before closing the door in my face. “your british accent is proper rubbish.” i yelled, in a much better british accent. “won’t survive the islands with that lump o’ shite up yer sleeve, mate.” i then said in a scottish accent.

he cracked open his door, showing just his face and bare shoulder. serj glared at me as if he had something to say, but i spoke before him, saying, “you might want to try studying foreign films if you plan to travel around the world in that band of yours,” in a german accent.

he glared for another moment or two before rolling his eyes and chuckling slightly and muttering, “you’re such a showoff.” he once again slammed the door in my face.

a few minutes later, he came back out in pajamas. flannel pants and a big, grey pullover hoodie. oh, and the star of the show, his signature scooby doo socks.

i’d helped myself to some oreos and was sitting on his sofa before he sat next to me and grabbed the TV remote. i held in a laugh as he shivered again.

“jesus christ I’M STILL FUCKING COLD,” he groaned, throwing his head back.

“dick still frozen?” i asked.

“yes.” he sighed, looking at me with a pouting lip.

i held in a laugh and looked him up and down as his head fell back again. i don’t know if it was his clothes, his now exposed neck, his gorgeous hair, or the idea of cockwarming itself, but he looked good. really fucking good.

very few moments went by before i gently took the remote from him and asked, “want me to warm you up?”

his head snapped up and he stared at me. his eyes were wide and a disbelieving smirk crept up his cheek. “excuse me?” he laughed sheepishly.

i’d meant it. now i was embarrassed and i felt stupid.

“do you want me to help you with… that?” i asked again, quickly glancing at his crotch to reference his frozen dick.

“wh- i- how?” he stammered.

then i felt really fucking stupid. why did i ask him that? what the fuck was i thinking?

i moved barely an inch closer to him after setting the remote back onto the coffee table and stared him dead in the eyes. my voice shrunk and i said, “i could just sit on you.”

a quiet moment was shared before he broke into a laugh and broke our eye contact. he looked around at seemingly nothing and bit on the tip of his finger, before pinching the bridge of his nose and laughing some more.

“why not?” he sighed, opening up the space in his lap for me to sit like a fucking hen on a newly laid egg.

i slid carefully into his lap, every single muscle in my body locked in a tense state. he avoided eye contact as i adjusted my position and rested my hands on his shoulders to stabilize myself.

i then became fully aware of his scent as it flooded my nostrils when i got that close to him. a soft blend of cigarettes, fresh laundry, and whatever cologne-y scented shampoo or body wash he used. my body relaxed and i allowed my weight to settle on his hips.

his hands rested in the pockets of his hoodie and he sat with his head rested back and his eyes closed. his broad chest rose and fell softly but swiftly.

“where’d you get this hoodie?” i asked softly, desperately attempting to break the silence. i was ruining our friendship more and more with each passing second.

…but i kind of wanted to ruin it.

i always thought serj was really intelligent and had a great sense of humor, and i could never understand why more girls didn’t want him. in the past 7 years of knowing him he’d only been through two real relationships, and barely any smaller, less serious flings. i myself had been in and out of relationships and such, but serj and i worked so well together as friends that it was hard to imagine being anything else with him.

“goodwill,” he exhaled. “3 bucks.” serj smiled, keeping his eyes closed. i could feel him relax a bit underneath me. i smiled too and let out a soft laugh through my nose.

“do you feel any warmer?” i asked, even lower than before.

a short few moments passed by before he shook his head and answered “not really.”

in response, i adjusted my position again, earning an unexpected reaction from him. his breath hitched and he briefly opened his eyes as i seemingly hit a nerve or something. his body tensed up again and his breathing grew deeper.

i soon understood why. i squirmed slightly for the billionth time, but felt a little something poking up against me.

every single ounce of my confidence rushed back into me and a devilish smirk came upon my face.

“what’s got you so excited?” i teased.

finally he looked at me again. his cheeks were red and he swallowed hard. we both broke into a blushing laugh and he rubbed his face with his palms.

he threw his hands outward and let his arms fall defeatedly. “you’re sitting on my dick, y/n, what do you expect? it feels good,” he argued.

my heart leaped. why was i so fucking excited about this? i was making him feel good and that was more fucking empowering than any chic flick i’d ever seen.

“it feels good? want me to grind on ya a little bit? like this?” i teased him, biting my lip. i started gently rolling my hips back and forth against his and held his shoulders to stabilize myself.

“NO! no, no, oh my god, fuck, don’t do that,” he whined, covering his face with his hands as he threw his head back again. his breathing was almost rapid and he was forcing himself to inhale and exhale deeply.

i stopped moving, but left my hands on his shoulders. i watched with a contented smile as his breathing became steadier.

“serj~” i said softly, letting my hands fall to his chest so i could feel his heartbeat. it was racing.

he took a deep breath and mustered up enough strength to look at me again. he looked tired, but his eyes were doe-y and somewhat anxious. he was blushing hard and he felt really warm now.

i took a long look at his face, glancing between his eyes, his nose, his lips, his freckles. i bit my lip and leaned in slightly closer.

“i wanna make a bad decision…” i whispered, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie and staring at his lips and into his eyes.

“you already made a bad decision, y/n.” he stated, his voice deeper and softer than it previously had been.

butterflies exploded in my stomach and we stared at each other for another few, long moments. i planted my palm in his sternum and slowly leaned in, laying my lips between his.

both of our hearts were now racing respectively, and i grew lightheaded from holding my breath before we pulled away naturally, slowly.

we looked at each other for a moment, seeing how the other was reacting to what just happened. his eyes danced around my face and his lips slacked open, breathing deeply despite his racing heartrate.

i brought a hand up to softly caress his neck, and we kissed again. his lips were wet and soft and the kiss was a little on the slower side. i could feel each of his breaths cover my face as his nose brushed against my cheek. i could have sworn that i felt him grow harder each second.

every ounce of strength that was left in my body instantly vanished as i felt his hand slide gently up my thigh. i softly whimpered into our kiss and pulled away for a moment. “your hands are cold,” i giggled, out of breath.

serj smiled at me and looked down. “sorry,” he laughed.

“it’s okay.” i gently tilted his sweet head back up to face mine and kissed him again. my hand caressed his stubbly cheek and i felt his other cold hand gently graze my jaw.

he opened his mouth and licked my lips briefly. i gasped and pulled his head closer to me so i could slide my tongue into his mouth to meet his.

i adjusted my position again and he immediately let go of the kiss, letting out a low, quiet moan against my lips. “careful~” he warned with a smile as he resumed the kiss.

his hand inched closer to my hips and i let it. his hands were huge and fit perfectly on my bony hips. i felt his entire palm rest against my right hip before his thumb slid under my pants to gently stroke the outside of my underwear.

i whimpered his name and pressed myself harder against his hand and his crotch, deepening the kiss even further. my underwear was beyond soaked but i didn’t even care.

i decided to deliver some karma and let my hands sink below his chest and slip up under his shirt. i placed my hands on his warm skin of his abdomen, which immediately tensed up at my touch. his skin was smooth and i could feel a bit of hair in the center of his body moving lower. my thumb brushed over his belly button and my palms were soon met with the elastic waistband of his pants.

before i could get to work on those, he pulled away and stopped me. “wait,” he said.

i looked at him, worry building up inside me.

his hands moved to gently hold my waist and he softly asked, “what are we after this, y/n?”

i stared into his eyes, at a loss for words. i pulled my hands out from under his shirt and hoodie and rested them in our laps, fidgeting with my fingers. “i-” i started, not really knowing where i was going to go with it after the fact. “i don’t know…”

now i felt stupid again. i only got the idea as a joke, i didn’t expect it to turn into this. but i liked it, and it seems like he did too. but we couldn’t go back to what we were, our friendship was ruined.

“...pretend it never happened?” he suggested, sounding just as uncertain as me.

i shook my head, lowering it in shame. it was such a stupid idea.

serj noticed my defeated state and gently held my face. “hey,” he said softly. i looked at him with a shame-ridden face, but quickly moved my eyes away from his. his thumb stroked my cheek and he gave me a small smile. “y/n~” he sang. “look at me.”

i scoffed and looked at him. he grinned and nudged my nose with his.

“listen, no matter what we end up being, you’re still my best friend, okay? maybe we can talk about it tomorrow over- well, later today, i guess. over breakfast. i think we should sleep on it, does that sound good?” he said softly.

his little stutter was so fucking adorable, i could barely contain my grin. i nodded and pressed my forehead against his.

“good,” he whispered. a moment or two passed before he held my face with both hands and softly said, “i love you, y/n. in every way.”

i smiled wide and wrapped my arms around his neck. “i love you too, serj,” i whispered.

he grinned, dear god. his smile had never hit me so hard as it did in that moment. “one more kiss?” he offered, his voice risen in pitch with his eyebrows raised and a sheepish grin.

i nodded, and we leaned in again. it was soft, slow, but not too deep, and a little on the shorter side. it was perfect.

“get some sleep, y/n,” he told me as we pulled away and i stood up from his lap. i nodded again, completely out of words. the only thing i managed to come up with was a simple, but sweet, “good night, serj.”

he gently grabbed my hands, softly kissing each of my fingers while looking up at me. “good night, y/n,” he said, before pausing for a brief moment. he then continued and whispered;

“i don’t regret anything.”

#serj tankian #system of a down #daron malakian #shavo odadjian #x reader #serj tankian x reader #fluff #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #fem reader #au #1996 #soad #nu metal #y/n

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ao3cassandraic · 9 months

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Crowley the Maker, God the Wrecker, Part 1

I've been thinking about do be do be do since I first posted it. It's big. It's woolly. It's got a lot of parts. I can't get a handle on it, entirely.

But there's one piece I think I'm on firm ground with, so let's have a look at it.

By your leave, I will preface with a personal story: My former niche in librarianship was running a sort of then-new online library service with a strong change agenda that (it turned out) nobody really wanted. I did the marketing, I did the schmoozing, I did the service-model and software revisions (as best I could, anyway; I'm not a developer) to make the service more inviting, I proposed endless ways to make the service better, or have it serve additional constituencies, or leverage some of my other skills in service to the service's avowed mission... none of it took.

I wasn't supposed to actually do anything, much less change anything (it turned out). I was supposed to sit there quietly and make an incredibly backward, set-in-its-ways library look all shiny and innovative via nothing but my existence on its payroll.

And the sheer pointless indolence of it drove me absolutely around the bend. I need to do things. I need to do things I think are worthwhile! I went more than a bit feral -- not in good ways -- when I couldn't, when I was blocked at every turn. I'm still ashamed of myself for that, but I understand why it happened.

So yeah. I'm not in that job or that niche of librarianship any more. (Many librarians would say that as a library/archives educator, I'm not even in librarianship any more!) And I think Crowley would absolutely understand why I'm not.

Before the Beginning, we see angel!Crowley (as I will call him, not wishing to deadname) doing maker work and exulting in it. We see Aziraphale a bit confused by the whole idea of hands-on work, but game to give it a try (especially for this attractive and dynamic redhead). Then we learn that angel!Crowley is making a star factory. He is literally making a thing that will do more making! And he loves it! He loves his thing that will make things!

And he's distraught, poor soul, at the idea that the thing he just made won't actually make anything else, it won't have time. That's just some bullshit. Things that make things should make their things! Or what was the point (arc word!) of making them at all?

We also learn that he "wasn't the original concept designer," though he claims to be on fairly close terms with the being Who was. And that's key to what distinguishes Her from Crowley: She thinks and delegates, he DIYs. (Though She doesn't even do all the thinking he thinks She does! "Show me a Great Plan!" he begs Her, when we all know it's only an ineffable game because She told us as much from the start of s1.) There can be no clearer demonstration of this than taking the line "Let there be light!" away from Her -- it's quite definitely God who says this in the Bible! -- and giving it to angel!Crowley.

Angel!Crowley is also a bit of a fixer; when something is wrong, he'll do something about it if he can. Aziraphale hints pretty strongly that angel!Crowley should back off critiquing Her or even asking for a suggestion box by which anyone else might critique Her. Angel!Crowley scoffs, because fixers assume others want things fixed as badly as they do; what kind of muttonhead wouldn't want things fixed? (Je suis fixer. I'm trying to learn to restrain myself.)

But Aziraphale's right! She doesn't want to hear it, and She boots angel!Crowley out of Heaven over it, torturing him horribly and unconscionably along the way. So what does She make? She makes demons by wrecking angels. By contrast, Angel!Crowley made star factories.

(I'm aware of the theory that She had already stopped listening, such that it was the Metatron who booted angel!Crowley out. Curiously, if that turns out to be true, it doesn't change this meta a whole lot.)

So here's what Crowley knows: God can't be arsed to listen to anybody even when they mean well, nor will she lift a finger (or divine analogue) to fix one blessed thing, and even worse, She only bothers to take actual action when She's out to do harm! And this lazy vindictive schmuck has set Herself up as the sole and entire arbiter of what counts as "being good"? What She did to angel!Crowley was not by any measure good!

(Comparisons between GO!God's behavior and Lone Skum's treatment of Twitter-I-mean-X are not only warranted, they're practically impossible to avoid.)

I have to think Crowley thinks he's well rid of Her, and I also have to think his loathing of Her hypocrisy -- She is good without doing good, which is practically the definition of hypocrisy -- is part of the reason he clings to the identity as demon that She forced on him so brutally. (Not the whole of the reason; kayfabe is also part of it.) He, unlike Her, is damned well going to -- well, either be honest about himself (as She isn't about Herself) or make Her eat Her blessed words about what he is and what he does. He can do better than She ever did. Who couldn't?

So at Eden, Crowley's been told to "make some trouble." Which he does! He likes making stuff, even if it's trouble. Then he has his opinion of Her confirmed: God takes action again, to boot Adam and Eve out of Eden. Once more, Crowley thinks that's bullshit, only he's rather less direct in how he expresses it this time around. The poor snake does learn.

But. Crowley also finds, atop the garden wall, another being who actually does things, who tries to fix things! Who's not so different from him! And he's mesmerized! But he can't stop himself poking at the "do good" vs. "be good" sore place again: "oh, you're an angel, I don't think you can do the wrong thing" "wouldn't it be funny if I did the good thing and you did the bad one?" Aziraphale doesn't quite pick up on what's going on in Crowley's head, being quite immovably (as it turns out) stuck in essentialism, such that anything a demon does must be wrong because of what a demon is. Our angel's only other surety is that doing whatever She thinks is the wrong thing (and She's not exactly clear about that, is She?) has terrifying consequences.

This is already quite long, so let's call it a post. Next up: Job and speech-act theory, since @ferallair asked me about it. Mind you, I'm not by any means an expert therein; my linguistics specialty was historical Iberian phonology with a side of semantic drift in Spanish verbs, okay? But I can explain the extreme basics of the idea.

#good omens meta #gos2 spoilers #gos2spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #do be do be do #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens god #good omens god is a horror #and a lazy one at that

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papakhan · 6 months

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The Great Khans have melted my brain, they're such an interesting group and I love their aesthetic! I'm low-key collecting headcanons from the fandom and my own to fit my own lore of New Vegas and I'd like to ask your opinion. How would you best describe Regis and Chance's personalities? I wonder what particularly Chance was like before Bitter Springs. As wild as Jessup, or more calm and powerful like Melissa? Was he just as quiet? I'm so sad that we'll never know (in canon, at least)

oh my god this has been in my wips for sooo long I'm so sorry. I'll do my best

Regis and Chance are some of my favourite characters and tbh do fulfil the similar kind of niche! They're both big, imposing melee-focused characters who struggle somewhat with communication and are both feared by their allies but also a lot smarter and more caring than they first appear. TBH I ADORE this trope but Regis and Chance are very very different guys at their core

Regis is more fleshed out in my mind (headcanon wise) so I'll start with him. I have said this many times but I believe in the deepest depths of my soul that Regis is autistic and some of his traits coming from that is having a very flat tone of voice and finding it difficult to control his volume. He comes across as kind of stiff or off-putting without really meaning to, also his main job is the Khan's chief law enforcer and I think he puts a lot of effort into keeping his emotions in check as to not get the better of him when making choices.

Under all that he's actually a very chill guy, very difficult to rattle or rile up. He's the matching pair to Papa Khan who can and will get emotional and fly off the handles very quickly. And none of this is to say Regis is void of emotions or totally stoic, he obviously cares for Papa and the other advisors a lot by how sweetly he talks about all of them, and is pretty sensitive to all their needs, especially Papa Khan's emotional state. Plus he gets really snarky with couriers who dismiss his advice about talking to Papa, like you can practically hear him rolling his eyes at you. i love him. To summarise I would call Regis straight-laced and sensitive. and gay

Chance, on the other hand, is almost the opposite of Regis. I don't really think Regis is a quiet guy, I think he's just choosey about what he says and who he says it to. Chance is the way he is due to trauma, which makes him withdrawn and despondent. He communicates in small ways that a lot of people tend to miss if they don't know him so well. Chance is also a very emotionally driven guy, and I think he always has been, which again puts him at opposites with Regis. Regis wants to step back and think while Chance wants to charge in. However that doesn't mean Chance is totally reckless, he's very direct and thoughtful when he needs to be, like when he carves the map of the Mojave or whenever Benny talks to him. I think the way we see him in All Roads is an exception, especially as its in the tail-end of a downward spiral that results in his suicide. I think more often he's like how he is at the start of the comic. Where he kinda flipflops between being aimless and focused, distant and direct. that's the trauma for you tho, I guess

Pre-Bittersprings ive discussed before back here and Here! since this has gotten so long already :') thanks for the ask

#txt #regis #chance

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sapphicdib · 11 months

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Excuse me?? Go on?? I wanna know about those headcanons

Also i appreciate bringing my by now old art back to light ^^

OHHH U WANT HEADCANONS?? [cracks knuckles]

(also ofc dude! u shld thank @/creaturevoiddweller for putting it on my dash tho hehe)

ANYWAYS THE HCS UR DRAWING SPECIFICALLY LINED UP WITH ARE:

Moon being taller/generally bigger than Sig…normally i’m not feral over height differences but god theirs drives me insane

Moon loving the stars. I feel like after her collapse, they were one of the few things that brought her comfort. Within canon I’m pretty sure you can see the stars even during the day (they’re green too!! super cool) so she loves to study them and their movements. The rare occasions when the rain comes after night falls are her favorites, being able to see them more clearly in the dark always excites her. Going on a lil stargazing date would probably melt her heart !!

Sig being fucking whipped for Moon 😭 this is a fucking given but him being distracted and at Moon instead of the sky because she considers her prettier than even the starts makes me. AUGH.

(More general hcs below the cut so this post doesn’t become a million miles long)

Sig learns to knit and makes Moon a scarf and a couple cloaks after her collapse. He actually has a lot of hobbies because he doesn’t think the great problem is solvable, nor does he really care to solve it anyways. He even says he’s got “nothing better to do with my time” when Suns asks him if he’s going to purpose another messenger. Meanwhile Suns says “you have two options, do nothing or work like you’re supposed to” in terms of what to do with your time.

Moon loves picking Sig up/holding her/generally grabbing her n throwing her around because she’s actually quite strong and Sig is smaller than her. Sig does not mind in the slightest.

They’re both interested in bioengineering. Sig more so, but Moon mentons Rivulet’s interesting adaptations and knows a lot about the flora and fauna of the world. I think they bonded over this quite a bit.

Speaking of, Sig was also a more medical-oriented facility. Pebbles mentions that he “was not a medical facility even when the equipment was functioning” to hunter, so the iterators may have had more specialized niches as the generations went on. Therefore, she becomes the sort of defacto “puppet-doctor” of the local group, helping to fix things like broken joints or umbilicals after the ancients disappear. Also just the slag reset keys in general. I have a drawing about this I’m finishing soon so watch out for that hehe

Moon’s kindness absolutely rubbed off on Sig. When he first got put online, she interacted with him a lot as his personality core was still developing, and he picked up on some of her traits. In terms of age I see their group as Moon and Suns (gen 1), Sig and Chasing Wind (mid gen) and Unparalleled Innocence and Pebbles (final gen).

SIG TEACHING MOON STUPID GAMER LINGO AND UWU SPEAK CAUSES A DISASTER IN THE LOCAL GROUP CHATS. The first time she says “poggers” sends everyone into an uproar and Sig gets multiple DMs being like “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS.”. Sig thinks it’s the funniest shit in the world.

Moon is a lesbian, Sig is a bisexual gender-fluid disaster. I’m sure you can tell from my rambles I use he/she/they/it pronouns for her.

Moon’s nickname for Sig is “doll”. “Little thing” is also a common one, since Sig jokes that his gender is just “thingy”.

I can’t think of any more but thank you so much for the ask!! I love these two so fucking much and getting to ramble about them makes me so happy, especially because I’m absolutely suffering on my period rn and it distracted me from the pain. I love ur art sm!!!!

#rain world #rain world downpour #lilypad rw #nsh x lttm #looks to the moon #no significant harassment #headcanons #rw #letters #TY FOR THE ASK HEHE

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grishaverse-chaos · 2 months

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Zoya for the ask game <3 (I'd love to hear your opinions on my favorite character)

omg tysm for the ask! (and to anon who also suggested zoya, sorry it took me so long to get round to it 😭)

why I like them: honestly she's just so fucking iconic, but I love how she's amazing and badass while not being one-dimensional! like she has flaws and she has trauma and insecurities and none of that takes away from her positive traits!!

why I don't: idk I feel like she has some ideas that I would disagree with - I haven't re-read the books in a while but I always got the vibe that she's pretty pro-military and particularly in favour of the second army. and like I get it! fun light-hearted fantasy books are not obligated to deconstruct entire social systems! but if I met her irl I think we'd argue about it lmao

favourite episode/scene: I love the scene in s2 where she agrees to ally with alina! I think it's really sweet and shows her character development

favourite season/movie: in terms of the books, I think she's best in the kos duology - as fun and iconic as she is in the s&b trilogy I think the backstory and development she gets in the later books really enhances her character

favourite line: oh this is so niche but “none of this had been fated; none of it foretold. there had been no prophecies of a demon king or a dragon queen, a one-eyed tailor, heartrender twins. they were just the people who had shown up and managed to survive. but maybe that was the trick of it: to survive, to dare to stay alive, to forge your own hope when all hope had run out. for the survivors then, zoya whispered to herself as the people before her knelt and chanted her name. and for the lost.”

I love the theme of fate/destiny vs free will in the grishaverse and this is honestly one of my all-time favourite quotes - I'm actually considering having part of it as my yearbook quote!

favourite outfit: ooooh I love her outfit for the shu han heist in s2 (although obviously, honourable mention to the blue ribbon™ just for being iconic)

otp: see my answer is different for fanon and canon. in canon I adore zoyalina, in fanfic I love zoyalai!

brotp: zoya and genya are literally the BEST friendship duo ever (although I also low-key ship them romantically). zoya and nina are not necessarily a good friendship but I love analysing their dynamic so they get an honourable mention anyway. oh and her cousin lada, the girl liliyana adopts - we barely see them interact but I think they would have had such a cute dynamic!!

headcanon: she's a cat person. this is actually true and accurate bc I say so. she 100% owns cats post-canon

unpopular opinion: she shouldn't have become queen at the end of row. as iconic as it is, I can't help but think that it would backfire politically, it'd have negative consequences for her relationship with nikolai, and it kind of sets back both characters' development. this feels too harsh but idk 😭😭 might write a longer post about it at some point

a wish: for her and nikolai to fix the issues in their relationship. bc yes, I think in canon they have Issues™ but this is a fixable problem! she just needs to stop putting him up on a pedestal!!

an oh-god-please-don't-ever-happen: imagine if she actually did become darkling 2.0 lmao. it'd never happen bc I think leigh bardugo would never do that, but it would be absolutely awful

5 words to best describe them: complex, iconic, motivated, forceful, lonely

my nickname for them: idk sometimes I call her z/zee in my head (and project this fact onto other characters who I think would do the same)

give me a character and I will answer...

#mayhem.txt #answered #zoya nazyalensky #look I'm not a zoyalai anti I just think they need couples therapy #and there are Moments in canon that make me go 'hmmm. maybe they would be better as friends'#but I love reading fic about them!! (and occasionally writing it)

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daisychainsandbowties · 6 months

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9, 17, 22 (fav wn character to write), 38, 42, 50

9. how do you find new fic to read?

i used to actually just browse the tag every day on ao3 but now that i write probably 80% of the time i only have a few authors i read and then i find stuff on here or i’m forever happy to have people send me stuff.

mostly i don’t have to try find fic anymore because i have so many talented mutuals on here i’m constantly being fed 🥰🥰

17. what highly specific au do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

fjdjsjdjdj well earlier this evening it was my 17776 au, especially the way i’m writing it which is riffing off of This Is How You Lose The Time War in terms of style and approach. ava and bea as deep space probes is like… an out-there concept. i definitely thought i would be the only person interested in it.

aside from that… i have another space au based on the “Swarm” episode of Love, Death & Robots (also would kind of like to do one based on “the very pulse of the machine” AND “bad travelling”. the concepts from that series are kiss forever and ever) i feel like that’s pretty solidly niche, but honestly the people in this fandom are so good about weird concepts so,,,

22. who is your fav wn character to write?

ava. hands down. this surprises me sometimes but GOD. she’s so gorgeous to write and i always have the best time writing ava chapters. especially in star wars au and pjo au and chess au and- nevermind. in everything she’s my favourite to write. my first ever fic (oranges are the only fruit) was ava pov. i just adore her.

this might sound weird because i love lilith and bea so much (and i do i do i do) but they’re… like bleeding to write whereas ava is just,,, she’s light

38. did any of your fics get surprisingly popular? which ones? why do you think they are so successful?

i don’t think any of my fics are very popular by most standards. my style isn’t conducive to it but i didn’t think anyone would read chess au, so that was surprising. no idea why i guess chess is just really sexy and makes me weird and insane. and also it’s ava pov.

42. have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for some reason?

YEAH. kei’s first comment on ligaments made me cry intermittently for three days straight. i have it saved as a pdf and as a picture on my phone. i just couldn’t believe someone had understood my intentions so well and been nice to me like,,, am forever and ever grateful for that comment

but any thoughtful comment does stand out to me, or ones where people say “i read this eating cheerios in bed” or “i saved this for friday as a treat” idk there’s something that just… makes me so emotional about how my fic fits into peoples’ lives. it’s why i write at all

50. answer any question you want or talk about something

oh. well today i was reading about Kēlen, a constructed language that sets out to violate one of the universal features or linguistic rules of human languages - namely that all human languages contain verbs.

it’s worth reading about i won’t explain it all here but i thought that was pretty interesting.

oh i can’t help myself here’s the ring verse from lotr in kēlen

the original for reference

#ask meme #these were GREAT questions thank youuu #someone talk to me about constructed languages i need to eat them

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hella1975 · 2 years

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heyyy hellaa, please tell us your favorite fics of all time, from any fandom, because i wanna know what makes your brain go vroom !!

WOULD LOVE TO OKAY:

haikyuu:

three sheets to the wind by fairycake - we have sakuatsu we have found family we have pirates we have a surprisingly coherent balance of plot and fun times we have a prank war we have miya twins content we have idiotic background sunaosa we have PIRATES there is literally nothing to dislike here when i read the description of this fic i thought it would just be dumbassery but it wound up being so much more and i got so attached so quickly and the ending was just so heartfelt if i could read this again for the first time i would

burden of blame by deathbelle - OUGH the writing of this one is just. jesus christ. atsumu's characterisation? kiyoomi's characterisation? protective miya twins? the miya twins interactions themselves? if you took away the yakuza angle id be CONVINCED this was all canon bc the author just Gets the characters. maybe my fav sakuatsu fic ever

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu - iwaoi have entered the chat!!! one thing about me is i LOVE a good recurring metaphor, but a super niche one when you can tell the author knows their shit? respectfully i am drooling. this fic is just so raw and real and it really hit home for me and even to this day when i see it im all !!!!!! a must-read for anyone in the haikyuu fandom

jaywalkers by batman - multi-ship but im gonna say it was more gen for me than anything idk if that's just bc none of my big ships were in there (aside bokuaka <3) or if i just latched onto the gen aspects but yeah u really dont need to ship any of the couples in this to absolutely be blown away by this. like holy fucking shit. this is my last haikyuu rec but it is also my first and quite possibly my favourite fic of all time. if you read anything from this whole list, read jaywalkers. i have never had a fic impact me the way this did and ive never come back to a fic so many times as i have this one bc im very much one of those people that once ive read something i dont get much enjoyment from rereading it no matter how much i like it. but idk something about jaywalkers has me in a complete fucking chokehold and has done since i read it over a year ago. the way this author writes is just so effortlessly human? like it's funny and realistic and messy and in-character and BECAUSE it's got so much dumbassery it really hits you out of nowhere when the deeper shit comes in, but it still works perfectly. ive never seen a writer so perfectly capture humanity before. whenever im struggling to flesh characters out, i return to this work and see all the effortless ways this author does that, whether it be through kei's headphones or kuroo's hair or oikawa's chameleon or every tiny tiny detail that is important enough to warrant a mention bc it's what makes these characters real. im just. god. yeah. also the final author's notes actually made me tear up

jujutsu kaisen:

found in translation by hiraethia - kai kai kai kai. GOD all of kai's fics absolutely gut me but this one just really stuck with me. kai's got such a specific writing style where she just makes really poignant and beautiful metaphors flow very easily, so it's never jarringly deep until you actually take a second to think about what you just read and you're like what the fuck and then it very much IS that deep, and that means kai gets a perfect balance of fluff and fun as well as just heart-wrenching tear your hair out kind of angst, which ofc works perfectly for satosugu

two drifters, off to see the world by quietkids - you have to have a pretty strong stomach when it comes to angst if you're gonna ship satosugu and id say i qualify for that and i also very very very rarely cry over fics, but my god something about this fic just destroyed me. im too scared to read it again. i cannot even comprehend how devastated i was upon finishing this like it wasn't even the gross loud sobbing kind of devastated it was just this awful ache that followed me around for DAYS and that takes so so so much talent any and all kudos go to this author. the thing about college-era satosugu fics that anhialates me so much is the helplessness of it. it's all so tragic and 'there is no other version of this story'. you watch them try so hard to make it work and every time without fail you know it all goes wrong anyway, the love was there but it wasn't enough. and somehow this author just grabbed that sentiment and put it into words and i just. OW

at the end of the world by freckledgeto - hi two of the bestest jjk writers are my mutuals and im bragging about it. alia wrote the itafushi (+first year trio friendship) roadtrip au specifically to hurt me im sure of it. not to get into the incredible writing parallels of jjk, but just like their predecessors, itafushi is all about that helplessness, the knowledge of how this is going to end and still trying to fight it, but while satosugu is usually very deep and dark and heavy, itafushi are the younger, fresher version, and alia writes to accommodate that so seamlessly. it's fun and silly and they're so clearly KIDS in it, and it makes it all the more heartbreaking when it stops being so fun and silly. specifically itadori's character is done beautifully in this fic, but also megumi's characterisation gave me an entire new angle on him that id never had before. the whole thing makes me want to punch a wall

atla:

where the stars do not take sides by witchofendor - honestly any fic by this author is always so well-thought out like the worldbuilding is always INCREDIBLE, but i just lovedddd this fire siblings in this and just the whole concept of it. this is my canon. i actually really want to reread this fic when i get a chance

blue by blacklipscurse - this will always always be THE zukka fic in my opinion like just JKSHGKJSHDGJH i miss when this was updating. the zuko characterisation in this is beautiful zuko and iroh's relationship is beautiful but also one thing that really stuck with me from this fic is the fire nation girls' characterisation? like ive NEVER seen a fic get azula like this but also TY LEE really stuck out to me. like she WOULD be so terrifying with her cheerfulness while she literally attacked you and this is the first time i actually felt that

feels like we only go backwards by oldpotatoe - RUBY WE MISS YOU <3 the writing of this fic is absolutely exceptional like there's a reason this fic gets so much hype. the angst? the romance? the slowburn? the falling in love twice over? the sokka and katara moments? give it to me straight into my veins pls

ozymandias king of kings by think_of_a_wonderful_thought - the first zukka fic i ever read and it's really stuck with me. ive said before but this fic really inspired me and is the reason a lot of taob is the way that it is. i LOVE zuko's characterisation in this bc he's different to canon but in a way that makes perfect sense with the divergence we're given. i also really liked hakoda in this? like not that he was being mean to zuko but just that the author wasnt scared to make him a good leader in a REALISTIC way, aka very cynical towards a fire nation prince. you'd think it would be obvious but people get very aggy when you're mean to zuko lol

salvage by muffinlance - obligatory mention <3 beloved fic <3 what to say about salvage that hasn't been said before. it's just an absolute staple of the atla fandom and CREATED its own trope that i very much capitalised off. i just think the whole concept is so so brilliant and it's such a heartfelt fic. it'll always have a very special place in my heart

#missing so many fics that i love in order to make this pretty short but oh well #i read in other fandoms but it's just these three that seem to churn out the real chokehold fics #i also avoided one-shots for this list #here u go <3 #ask #fic recs #haikyuu #jjk #atla

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animebw · 2 years

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Short Reflection: RWBY Ice Queendom

Can we just stop for a moment and appreciate how fucking insane it is that RWBY is an actual anime now?

It’s hard to remember a decade out from its premiere, but when RWBY first arrived on the scene, it was a very weird, very niche property. It was a an amateur passion project from the guys who made the funny Halo webseries, many of whom had little to no experience on a full-fledged original animated series like that. The writing was subpar, the actors were all pretty inexperienced, even the animation was pretty ramshackle outside the incredible fight scenes. But not only did RWBY persist, it grew. It improved on itself every season with better production values and storytelling, accomplishing things that never seemed possible in its early, rudimentary days. And as it grew in quality, it likewise grew in popularity, blossoming from a niche web property into one of the defining series of the modern animation landscape. And after ten years, it’s become so goddamn huge that it’s managed to snag an honest-to-god anime spinoff with some of the biggest names in the business working on it. Really, stop and think about that: Monty Oum’s love letter to anime has become such a huge success that it’s now being worked on by Gen fucking Urobuchi. Okay, yeah, Urobuchi just came up with the story concept, but still. Imagine telling anyone back in 2012 that the guy who wrote Fate/Zero, Madoka Magica, and Psycho-Pass would someday put his hands on RWBY. Wherever Monty is now, I hope he’s proud of how far his baby has come.

And to Ice Queendom’s credit, it starts from a very strong premise: what if we took one of the worst, most half-baked parts of early RWBY- namely, Weiss’ two-episode dalliance with racism- and flesh it so it actually works? The Faunus racism subplot has never been the show’s strongest aspect, something that even its creators have acknowledged. So if you’re gonna do a semi-canonical spinoff, choosing to go back and do that subplot’s initiation over is about as good an idea as I can come up with. The main issue with volume 1′s finale is how rushed the introduction and resolution of Weiss’ racism is. It’s brought up with no build-up, it’s so hilariously over-the-top that it’s impossible to take seriously, and in one of the single stupidest writing decisions I’ve ever seen, she just gets over it off-screen and it’s never brought up again. It’s not the worst RWBY has ever been (*glares menacingly at Jaunedine*), but it’s definitely up there, and it sets the stage for how awkward the whole Faunus plotline is doomed to remain going forward. If you’re gonna flesh out and re-work any part of RWBY, I can’t think of a better option than this.

So after a three-episode recap of volume 1, compressing events for time and sprinkling in new details that will form the basis of its plot, Ice Queendom launches into a good old-fashioned dream invasion arc. Weiss is attacked by a Grimm that traps her in a nightmare, and the rest of her team has to travel into that nightmare to set her free. But it’s easier said than done, because this nightmare preys on its victim’s worst impulses, bringing their darkest fears about themselves to the forefront until they consume them. And that means Dream Weiss isn’t just a passive prisoner of her own dream: she’s the dictator of it. She’s every bit the cold, ruthless authoritarian that her family wants her to be, indifferent to the suffering of her kingdom and closed off from the people she truly cares about. It’s all of Weiss’ worst qualities made manifest, exaggerated and twisted and very much not solved by an off-screen decision. Which is actually helped by that reader’s digest of volume 1 I mentioned: with just a few key details tweaked, it’s made powerfully clear that even after resolving things with Blake, Weiss is nowhere near free from his demons. And if those demons aren’t gonna let her go on their own, then her friends are just gonna have to beat them out of her with the power of friendship. Because if RWBY’s gonna go full anime, it might as well go full goddamn anime.

As a premise, this is everything I could want. Sure, the volume 1 recap isn’t perfect, and it’s far from a perfect way to start things off. It cuts too much out to be welcoming for newcomers, and this show is clearly not aiming to be anyone’s introduction to RWBY. But it also doesn’t really change enough to be interesting to established fans beyond seeing their favorite volume 1 moments realized in classic 2D animation (which, to be clear, is pretty fun on its own; the Nevermore fight is basically unimpeachable). Once Ice Queendom branches into its own story, though, it’s a damn good time. It’s clear how much love the creators of this show have for RWBY, and how well they understand Weiss’ character in particular. Even in the smaller details of the dream, like the different ways Weiss’ family members are portrayed, you can tell the people making this show are as much fans as anyone watching it. And if the only reason for IQ to exist at all was providing a more satisfying conflict and resolution to the Weiss Racism subplot, then I’d say mission accomplished. I won’t spoil how things play out, but while it isn’t perfect, it sticks the landing where it needs to and makes this part of RWBY stronger. That, if nothing else, is cause for celebration.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long before some pretty significant problems start to crop up.

The first, and most obvious, issue is the animation. Shaft’s glory days as a studio are well behind them (cries in Sangatsu season 3 never), and after a mostly solid opening stretch of episodes, the animation really starts coming apart at the seams. So many awkward, unfinished cuts, off-model characters, sloppy in-between frames, and that’s just the obvious stuff I could pick up on with a cursory glance. It does pick up again in the final stretch, but this show was clearly a production nightmare, and I shudder to think how bad things were behind the scenes. But perhaps even more distressing is that even when Ice Queendom looks good, it also looks... well, boring. The character designs somehow have even less personality than the early stiff-faced poser models, colors are clashing all over the place, and there’s just so little imagination put into how to visually depict this dream world. This is the goddamn Monogatari studio setting a story inside an abstract, symbolic mindscape. Why the fuck does so much of it look so flat and basic? Yeah, early RWBY certainly wasn’t a looker, but just take a look at its most recent seasons! RWBY looks incredible now! I’d argue it’s one of the leading pioneers for CG animation, certainly for anime-style CG animation if nothing else. And it’s a shame that an actual veteran anime studio falls so short of what Rooster Teeth has been able to accomplish.

And then there’s the writing. Or rather, the lack thereof. See, all that good stuff I talked about with Ice Queendom fleshing out the Weiss Racism subplot and giving it proper closure? That’s just the first and last few episodes of the dream. There’s a huge dead space right in the middle of this show that I can only describe as plot blocking. A problem arises, the characters solve it, another problem arises, they solve it again, and the pacing practically drags to a standstill through an endless series of obstacles that don’t move the plot forward and only seem to exist to drag out the show’s runtime. It’s glaringly obvious that writer Tow Ubukata didn’t have enough ideas for how to stretch this story across a full cours, so most of its midsection is just spinning its wheels waiting for an excuse to start the actually interesting stuff again. And it doesn’t help that this is also where the animation really starts to fall apart, so for a while you’ve got a plot that’s going nowhere and looking pretty ugly while doing it. Which may have been forgivable if just for the sake of watching our favorite characters spend more time together, but, well...

Look, I feel like this is going to be a controversial take, but I have to say it anyway: Ice Queendom’s dialogue is terrible. The characters talk in the most generic anime aphorisms, there’s so little specificity to how they communicate, everyone feels like they’re Performing Anime Archetypes rather than actually embodying Ruby Rose, Yang Xiao Long, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, Jaune Arc, and so on. And whatever else you might say about OG RWBY, it has always had excellent dialogue. Even back in the first volume when Monty, Miles and Kerry were still finding their footing, they knew how to make a conversation flow with purpose. This, though? This just feels like fanfiction. Which, I mean, that’s essentially what Ice Queendom is, but it’s that awkward kind of fanfiction that understands how the characters are written but doesn’t really know how to portray their voice, so the dialogue is all weirdly off and impersonal and never quite sounds the way it’s supposed to. And I definitely put this on the writing more than the actors, because I recently watched the English dub trailer and it had all the same problems. Saori Hayami, Lindsay Jones, Yoko Hisaka, Kara Eberle, and all the other voice actors, JP and EN alike, are incredibly talented people, but they just cannot make this dialogue sound right.

You know, it’s funny. When Ice Queendom was first announced, the worst parts of the RWBY hatedom lauded it as Japan “taking custody of RWBY” away from evil Miles and Kerry who “ruined Monty’s vision” (by which they meant adding gay characters and not redeeming the evil male abuser). Finally, they crowed, based Nippon was going to do RWBY the way it was supposed to be done. And yet, not only is Ice Queendom a substantially weaker product than anything OG RWBY has put out in the past several years, it’s flaws are all a direct result of being an anime in the first place. The horrible production schedule leading to melty animation, the plot blocking that exists onto to perpetuate itself, the dialogue that makes the characters come off more like archetypes than characters... these are all problems that anime is very familiar with. They’re certainly problems familiar to anyone who’s kept up with Shaft’s recent output, particularly their horribly mangled Magia Record adaptation. Perhaps there’s a weird irony in that. RWBY may have started out as a love letter to anime, but it’s grown so far from those origins by now that it’s arguably better than most anime on the market. And when someone tries to turn it into anime, it only reveals just how much better off this show is for charting its own course away from the worst parts of the medium it was inspired by.

And yet... yeah, this is still really fucking cool. It’s a testament to how far this cute little indie project has come over the years. RWBY is a juggernaut now, something that’s so big it’s come around to influencing its own influences. And despite its many, many faults, I still came away from Ice Queendom feeling mostly positive (it doesn’t hurt that the last couple episodes really do kick a serious amount of ass). It’s as much a love letter to RWBY as RWBY is to anime, and seeing that mutual appreciation is just too damn inspiring to ignore. I hope this isn’t the last anime spinoff RWBY gets; I hope lots of different Japanese studios and creators get to try their hands at bringing the hidden pockets of Remnant to life. Maybe they could adapt all the tie-in novel I still haven’t read? That could be a really cool way of bringing those stories to life. But I’ll save my wish list for another day. For now, RWBY Ice Queendom was a deeply flawed, but deeply captivating experiment, and I hope it’s an experiment we see repeated- and improved upon- for quite some time to come. And I give it a score of:

5.5/10

And now we wait for volume 9 to drop next year. I swear to god, if this hiatus lasts much longer I’m going to unironically bring yorse back, and nobody wants that.

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #rwby #rwby ice queendom #rwby: hyousetsu teikoku #rwby: ice queendom #rwby hyousetsu teikoku #summer 2022 anime #rwby sr

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greenix · 2 years

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A few years after Ingo disappears, the Black Stone is found in the hallowed resting site of the Pearl Clan. Upon awakening, Zekrom remembers his life in Hisui, and that he's the Dragon of ideals-but his Ideals have shifted to protecting Sinnoh. He does have vague flashes of a dragon in white, and a sense of emptiness-but he's used to that by now, so why seek out something he might not find? (There is a happy reunion! It just takes a while, and a lot of Zekrom's memories are Not There anymore.)

(hope you're okay with me stringing all your asks together!)

I really like this concept! it makes a lot more sense for the Dragon in Ingo to attempt to find it's own niche as a god in Hisui rather than just being lost and confused. and every group of people needs Ideals, particularly new settlers with grand dreams of developing a home in the new land they're living in! I can see him being a major proponent of immigration into Hisui, helping people find their place etc. delving into Zekrom's lack of memory is an interesting contrast to Ingo just forgetting he's a dragon all together - I agree that it would make a lot more sense if he remembered his godhood and adapted his realm to match the new location! good concept!!

such a great design.... I love this very much. I'm a sucker for people's time in a situation changing them mentally and that change being reflected permanently and visibly on their bodies!!! excellent!!!! I had already been thinking about having an offshoot AU where Hisuian Zekrom has a different typing (Dragon Poison) so I might incorporate this into that concept :D

OOOH YES. I LIKE THE IDEA OF THEIR PSYCHIC BOND GETTING MESSED UP. I'm picturing it as like. you know when you put your magnetic hotel room key in with your phone or wallet and the magnet messes up and won't open your door anymore? the ultra space is like that but for mental frequencies - adding on to the mental change Ingo undergoes in Hisui as well, his mind becomes pretty unfamiliar and therefore Emmet has a hard time connecting to him.

and no worries about the angst! I also like cosmic horror, it's so fun (and. depressing) to think about

YEES YEES. YES. I LIKE THIS. I'm picturing it also as a pokemon mystery dungeon remake style game with the ultra space being the constantly shifting mystery dungeons!!! because i love pmd and think that format fits this concept very well :]

thank you for all the asks you have some really cool ideas!

#submas twin dragons au #aspect au #pokemon #long post #submas #pokemon legends arceus #hisuian zekrom au

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frick6101719 · 2 years

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It's Not My Fault My Elegy for a Hockey Team Turned Into an Everlark Porno

Sometimes your hockey team loses and it puts you in such a Mood that you start writing and then suddenly you've got the strangest little slice of Everlark smut that has ever been crafted by your own two brain cells.

This is kind of niche, and full disclaimer it has been done with zero research and almost zero thinking and is in more than one way just my own therapy because god fucking dammit Toronto can you please just win one playoff series FOR ONCE PLEASE

but also I love my boys and wish them all the cheering up in the world

So yes, proceed with all this in mind. And uh, enjoy?

~~~

Just like that, another season was over.

Peeta sat in the dressing room, helmet on his knee, eyes fixed on the edge of the blue carpet beneath his skates. He’d been here before—too many times—and knew that facing the summer on the heels of playoff elimination was always tough. But something about tonight’s pain felt different, somehow fresh, raw, and sharp. It didn’t make sense—the Miners had lost in every way imaginable in the past: they’d deflated before teams half as good as they were, they’d lost key players to injury, they’d collapsed under the pressure and made too many bad plays, they’d let bad reffing get to them… they’d done it all.

But tonight hadn’t been like that. They’d played really well, made a number of excellent plays, and finally managed to keep their penalties to a minimum. In the seventh game of a close series, they’d held the Peacekeeper’s lead to one goal, keeping the threat of a comeback ever-present, looming over their opponents’ heads, dangling before their own eyes. They’d lost for every reason imaginable, but tonight they’d lost for what seemed like no reason, and it was the worst feeling yet.

Last year, after losing in the first round, Peeta had made the mistake of checking Twitter, where he was greeted by half a dozen would-be sports journalists asserting that in life there were three certainties: death, taxes, and the Miners losing in the first round of the playoffs. He didn’t need to check tonight to see that’s what people were saying again. He couldn’t blame them. It was how he felt now too—devoid of answers, with nowhere helpful to lay the blame except at the feet of some curse that made their failure a cosmic inevitability. They’d only made it to the finals twice since Haymitch Abernathy had been the fresh-faced rookie who unexpectedly led the team to the cup, and that was over thirty years ago.

Now Abernathy was their bitter and barely-sober head coach, somewhere north of fifty, a former player who’d fallen victim to injury and vice and had never reached his full potential. He was a brilliant coach in spite of all that, or perhaps because of it, and as he stormed into the dressing room, yanking off his tie and rubbing a hand over his jaw, scanning the room with his sharp grey gaze, Peeta was glad that he was also a coach on intimate terms with disappointment. Abernathy met each of their eyes with that unflinching stare, harsh, but clearly also stung by this latest defeat. He felt it too. He’d wanted this as badly as any of them.

Abernathy just stood there in the corner of the room for a long moment. He had used up all of his pretty mediocre oratory skills during the intermissions, trying to encourage and even threaten them into being the team he knew they could be, the team they had been just a few weeks ago in the regular season, the team who won.

He had nothing more to say now, but he was the coach, and he had to say something. Peeta knew it wouldn’t be the usual taunts he threw at them during humiliating losses in the regular season; there would be no “well boys, looks like it’s all over now but the crying,” and no barbs about booking tee times for next Saturday, since they were clearly no longer serious about hockey. Grumpy old codger that he was, even he wouldn’t make those jokes tonight.

After all, it was over, and they were crying.

He started with something about a good effort, and while Peeta did his best to look like he was paying attention, he didn’t catch more than a word or two. He kept his eyes down, focusing on unlacing his skates without ripping them to shreds in frustration and heartbreak.

So close. He yanked on the waxy strings. His eyes felt hot. So fucking close.

He’d been over the moon ten years ago when it had been the Miners who drafted him. One of many hockey players born and raised in District Twelve, the Miners were the team he’d been cheering for since birth, the team he’d begged to watch even when it was well past his bedtime, the team whose blue-and-white logo was stamped on the flannel pyjamas he couldn’t sleep without. He’d been a Miner at heart long before the draft, donning the vintage Gray Baird jersey his grandparents gifted him for Christmas and imagining he was one of the greats every time he and his brothers stepped onto the ice. Their family often joked about just setting their address to the ODR in the winter, since Peeta and his brothers practically lived there anyway. They used to wake up before school to get ice time in, layering up until they were stuffed like pillows on ice in the sub-zero weather, hollering about which legendary player they were that day. Getting to be a Miner for real seemed like everything Peeta had wanted since he first became capable of wanting anything.

His desires had grown up as he had, and by the time he joined the lineup he felt that he’d become more reasonable in his hockey ambitions. Still, like most young players joining a struggling team he’d dreamt of being one of the instruments who turned their game around, who started the momentum that wouldn’t let up until the Miners won and he was holding the Stanley Cup in his own hands. He dreamed of being so good the team would have no choice but to get better too.

And get better it had; the room he sat in now housed the best roster in the last thirty years of Miners hockey, and certainly a far better team than the one Peeta had joined as a rookie. Several trades and new acquisitions had transformed them from a team better known for its passionately loyal fanbase into one of the best in the league.

It hadn’t been enough. The bad luck that had hounded the team for decades had not gone anywhere, not with trades, not with new coaches and GMs, not even when they’d drafted what might be the best player in franchise history four years ago in Gale Hawthorne.

Peeta looked up. Rosie, as the boys called him, was sitting in his usual spot several seats to Peeta’s left, silently undressing as Abernathy wrapped up his speech. Like Peeta, he knew that the media room was waiting to hear from him especially, wanting their star to explain exactly why the team had lost yet another elimination game. Rosie had played well all series, though he hadn’t quite managed to put up his usual numbers. He and his line led the Miners in points, with Rosie and Thom having just beaten a franchise record for points between a pair of teammates, and Rosie himself finishing the season with more goals than any other player in the league. They were the stuff playoff dreams were made of, but Peeta knew that the pair hadn’t been as dominant this series as the fans would have hoped.

Looking at the pair of them, red-eyed and dejectedly picking at their equipment, they knew it too.

Neither of them had scored tonight, though they’d both gotten assists on Peeta’s goal—the only one of the night. Peeta was going to have to face the music in the media room too, though he knew he would have an easier time of it than Rosie and Thom; it had been a good goal, and as a defenseman no one was even counting on him to score it, not like they were with the forwards.

He realised he was still staring at Rosie when the centreman raised his head and met his gaze. Peeta couldn’t find it in himself to smile, as he would have done after a win, or even a less crushing loss, but gave a small nod, which Rosie returned. They knew what was waiting for them, and they would face it together. Win or lose, they were a team.

He was glad to have teammates like Rosie and Thom. He was glad for all of them, honestly; they were a great group of lads and there was no one better to be miserable with than them.

But as if to add insult to injury, as his eyes traversed the rest of the dressing room, Peeta found himself bitterly wondering which of his boys wouldn’t be back next year. This was the end of the line for some of them, it was just a matter of who, and when.

Morph was a likely candidate, if Peeta was honest. Morph was a fellow defenseman who’d had a pretty shit season, and whose interference penalty had resulted in a no-goal call on a goal which would have tied the score back in the first. Peeta liked the guy, but mistakes like that were hard to shake, and while he and the other players knew that there was a fine line between stating a fact and placing blame, management tended to see things a bit differently. He wouldn’t be surprised to see a new face sitting in Morpho’s spot next season.

Then there was Foxy, who was practically good as gone, though for very different reasons than Morph. Foxy had had such a good season he’d effectively played himself right off the team, thanks to a salary cap that meant the Miners could no longer afford him. Young and hungry, he’d be a valuable addition to any team looking to plan for the future and lock in some fresh talent. But players like Foxy brought character to the team, and gave it some much-needed depth. Peeta would be sad to see him go.

Foxy looked maybe a little less sad than the rest of them now, already mostly undressed, green eyes skittering about the room as he stripped for the shower. Maybe he was already thinking about another chance with a new team, maybe he was trying to detach early to avoid feeling the same pain as the rest of them. One thing was certain: he’d do well wherever he found himself come autumn.

Then there was Finnick, the veteran player they often called Vintage. Another lifelong Miners fan, Fin had been drafted second overall to their rivals, the District Eleven Maize, when Peeta was only seven years old. Peeta could still remember watching the TV in utter devastation as one of his local heroes was sent to “the enemy,” and had been overjoyed nearly twenty years later when Fin had signed on with the Miners. Vintage was a living legend, playing for the team he loved at a huge discount because he was close to retiring and could afford to play for fun if he wanted to. Maybe a chance at the cup had been a bonus, but with another of those chances come and gone, retiring had to be looking pretty good right now. They often joked that the old man still had it, exaggerating their surprise any time he made an especially good play, but the truth was Finnick was still better than many players ten years his junior. He’d earned his position on special teams and on key faceoffs, and with thighs like tree trunks he was frighteningly fast for a thirty-eight-year-old. But Fin also had a wife and four kids who were growing up at breakneck speed. He’d had a great career, had made his mark on the game and was destined for the Hall of Fame; maybe this latest disappointment would convince him that it was time to move on from the league and start the next chapter.

The thought of playing without Finnick only worsened Peeta’s already foul mood. He was a pillar of the team, with experience and wisdom that they all looked to, leaned on, and at times even craved. He’d forgotten more about hockey than most of them ever knew, and while he was fun to tease—whether it be for how often he switched sticks in a game or for how worked up he got when it was three minutes until they hit the ice and JoMas was still practically naked, shooting the shit with Thom and Briz—they knew how lucky they were to have him. The Miners may have had their reliable stars sticking around—Rosie, Thom, JoMas, and fearless leader Mattie Undersee to name a few—and much of the rest of the rest of their roster would be back in the fall as well, but the team would feel off-balance and adrift without Vintage, and Peeta dreaded the possibility.

Having nearly completed his scan of the room, Peeta turned to his right, locked eyes with Carty, and deflated. It was hard to be in a bad mood any time the goalie was around, and especially when he looked as much like a kicked puppy as he did now. It had taken JoMas all of a week to dub new goalie Dale Cartwright “Mr Right,” an appropriate nickname for the nicest, most selfless, salt-of-the-earth kind of guy anyone could hope to meet. It was a nickname quickly picked up by their fans, who chanted it—no, screamed it at the top of their lungs—every time he made a save.

Carty had played well tonight, only allowing two goals and earning every roar from the supportive home crowd, but Peeta knew he was his own worst critic. Carty would be beating himself up for the loss, even if objectively there was little he could have done differently. Worse, he’d be thinking back to previous games, to every goal allowed, to getting pulled back in game four, asking himself “what if” until he dug himself a hole it would be hard to climb back out of.

They couldn’t lose Carty. As far as Peeta knew he wasn’t a trade risk, but they’d sure been having goalie trouble this year, and who knew what the solution to all that would look like?

But they just couldn’t. Losing Carty would be taking the heart of the team and ripping it right out, it would mean losing the sweetest guy not just on their team but on any team. Not to mention it would start a fucking riot with the fans, who were head over heels for the guy.

Some players—goalies especially—got nothing but chirps when they went through rough patches, with assholes trolling the comments of their instagram telling them to just quit already and stop bringing the team down. But not Carty. Carty got comments from old ladies saying they were praying he’d feel better soon, and tags from hockey bros saying they knew he’d find his stride again and just to hang in there. Peeta had even heard one announcer say that if anyone didn’t like Dale Cartwright, they were the one with the problem. He’d never seen anything like it, but he couldn’t agree more. Everyone liked Carty. And in a sport where things could get heated, where tempers often boiled over and where anger not infrequently cooled down through your fists, someone so good and level-headed was rare and precious. Especially now, the team needed Carty.

Peeta finished undressing and stood, his legs aching, heading for the showers. He stopped by Carty’s spot on his way, finally finding the little smile he couldn’t earlier. Carty seemed to perk up a little to see it, offering one of his own in return.

“That was a tidy little goal, Peets,” he said. His voice was warm, though his eyes were glistening. “Perfect spot.”

Peeta smiled a bit more. “Thanks Carty. You’d have had it though.”

Carty ducked his head, like he always did when offered praise, no matter how well-deserved. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m glad it wasn’t me you were up against.”

Peeta almost mentioned that Carty had let in fewer goals in the series than Marvel Quaid, the Peacekeeper’s goalie who had some of the best stats in the league. He didn’t. It felt like a trite consolation, since Carty knew as well as he did that the only stat that mattered in the playoffs was the final score, and they were the ones who were going to be golfing next week.

“I’m glad it wasn’t you too.”

One by one the boys headed for the showers, the room quickly filling with steam and the sound of a sniffle or two over the rush of water. No clothes were hidden, no ice water was dumped on anyone’s back, no pranks of any kind were played as they dragged their feet through the post-game routine. It was clear that they were all just going through the motions, just trying to get to the next step, and then the next, and then finally they could go home.

But first, interviews. As they shuffled out of the dressing room, towards the media hell that awaited them, Peeta took one last look at his boys, examining every face in case this would be the last post-game with them. Rosie, Thom, Mattie, Beets, JoMas, Cheese, Morpho, Cinner, Blight, Briz, Carty. He felt Finnick step up beside him, squeezing his shoulder and smiling at him in a way that forced Peeta to stare up at the ceiling to keep his eyes dry.

“Fuckin’ thought we finally had it,” JoMas said from Peeta’s other side, shaking his head. “I could fucking taste it, Peets. Like everything was finally coming together.”

Peeta nodded, wishing he’d worn a hat like Rosie and Thom—it might be nice to be able to cover half his face right about now. “Me too, man.” He sighed, opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it. What was he supposed to do, encourage Joey and Fin? Grin and tell them “there’s always next season” like they could just come back and try again any time they want? Remind them how close they’d come, how hard they’d tried, how high their hopes rose? Should he say that they should be proud of themselves for a good season even if it had a bullshit ending?

All that hope, and here they were, about to dump bullshit on it before the press and then try to explain why it died. Putting on their Professional Athlete hats and carrying on like they were all fighting the good fight, playing the game as it was meant to be played, acknowledging that the game as it was meant to be played involved losing sometimes. But don’t worry, they didn’t like losing, and they would try even harder next year; they would lose less. They would remember that every loss was one step closer to the next victory, and that winning was what they did.

Bullshit. Pretending they weren’t just grown-up boys playing a young boy’s game, feeling the heartbreak and anguish of defeat as acutely as they had at ten-years-old. Bullshit. All that hope, all that sweat, every expectation, every injury, the speckling of puck-shaped bruises on the soft insides of their legs and the bony edges of their ankles, their pulled groins and tweaked knees, the hits that knocked the breath out of their bodies and rattled their brains like jello in a goddamn bucket. Every foot of kin tape, every ice bath, every smack on the ass from Briz, every arena-rattling chant of “Mr Right,” their own voices screaming from the bench, Thom’s broken-toothed, mouthguard-dangling grin after he took a high stick to the mouth, every penalty kill, power play, every goal, every celly. Finnick’s dad laugh going on long after the joke, making them all crack up anew in the dressing room. Abernathy’s rare smiles behind the bench when the smell of victory was in the air. Morpho piping up that the smell wasn’t victory but just Blight’s nervous gas. The breakaways, the turnovers, the show-stopping saves and heartbreaking chances. Their three postseason wins, giving them more hope, painting a picture of round two, of the conference finals, of playing for the cup. Of winning it all, like they knew they could, because they were a good team and this is what they’d been working toward for years.

All of it. Bullshit. Not enough.

Peeta sighed again. He took another step toward the door. I thought we had it. “Me too,” he repeated. What else was there to say?

~~~

The post-game interviews could have been worse, all things considered. Peeta didn’t usually hate them, and even when they were a bit of a hassle he always tried to give reporters his best because he knew he was a sought-after subject. Plus… well, that’s just who he was. He didn’t like to brush reporters off, didn’t like coming off as the stereotypical inarticulate hockey goon whose brain was just a plate of scrambled eggs and fibreglass splinters, who spoke in sentences that spiralled into meaninglessness and regurgitation because that’s all he was capable of.

But tonight that’s all he was capable of, and he didn’t even have the energy to be disappointed in himself. He gave his perfunctory answers, avoided snapping or making excuses, and tried not to look at his watch more than once a minute. It was like getting teeth pulled, but at least now he could go home.

He may have driven a bit quickly on the way back, but he was exhausted. He was sore in every part of his body, and he was sore in someplace inside him, somewhere deep and soft and fragile. He needed to sleep for fourteen hours straight. He needed a cold beer, or a plate of salty french fries, or a hot bath. Or all of the above, at the same time.

For far from the first time he was glad to live in a little spot off the heart of District Twelve, on a street where the neighbours were quiet and in a house where there was no lobby full of people lingering to watch him crawl back home with his tail tucked between his legs. Maybe they’d want to cheer him up, maybe they’d want to commiserate, maybe they wanted to tell him he should have scored two goals instead of one. Peeta wanted none of it.

He was surprised when he pulled up to see Katniss’s car parked on the street—he’d thought she was out of town until tomorrow morning. The heaviness in his chest lifted a little at the thought of her, probably already in bed, asleep or maybe reading, her hair pulled back in one long braid as it always was when she was home. Her outfit for tomorrow morning’s workout would be in a neat pile on the counter in the bathroom, where she’d get dressed quietly to avoid waking him before heading out for her morning run. The ingredients for Sunday brunch would be in the fridge, on the bottom shelf: eggs and turkey bacon and maybe even waffle batter. The barest trace of a smile had formed on his lips as he unlocked the front door, stepping quietly inside. He really did enjoy their quiet little routines, and the particular shade of domesticity that came from life as a pair of professional athletes.

Peeta’s surprise doubled at the signs of life that met him in the entryway. She was very much awake, it seemed, loudly listening to that band from her university town that she liked so much, and… baking, by the smell of it. “Katniss?” he called, toeing off his shoes. Was that cake?

“In the kitchen!” she called back.

He guessed as much, and followed his nose, picking out vanilla, a hint of orange, and maybe some lemon in the mix? He’d been in the mood for something greasy and salty, but he wasn’t picky, and he could just as easily eat cake in the bath—

He almost slipped on the kitchen floor as he crossed the threshold, and only partly because she’d managed to get flour on the tile all the way across the room. His girlfriend—his beautiful, talented, beyond sexy girlfriend—was in the process of icing a plate of cupcakes, wearing a coy smile, an apron, and nothing else.

The piping bag hit the counter, and she was across the floor before he’d picked his jaw up off of it. Then she was in his arms, her mouth pressed to his, hungry, sweet—definitely lemon—warm, gentle… the best balm for a bad night. Forget the french fries and the bath and the beer; she was exactly what he needed right now.

His hands ran over the smooth skin of her back, travelling down to cup her ass, prompting her to hop up and wrap her legs around his waist. Decades of figure skating made it as easy for her to hang off of his body as it would be for most people to stand on their own two feet, and fuck he tried his best to appreciate that particular talent of hers as often as he could but he would never be used to it.

She pulled away, one hand massaging the damp curls on the back of his head, the other brushing invisible dust off his shoulder. She watched him for a long moment, grey eyes silently probing his blue ones. Looking back at her, it dawned on him that she understood. Maybe she could feel it all through his body, maybe the years they had been together had forged between them a connection that transcended the physical, or maybe it was just that she too knew what it was to lose when you knew you had it in you to win. There was a silver medal from 2014 hanging up in a glass case downstairs that proved it: she knew. She understood.

And like him, Katniss knew when there was something to say, and when there wasn’t. She brought her mouth to his once more, her free hand moving from his shoulders to her apron strings, deftly untying them all while kissing him silly in this disaster zone of a kitchen.

He walked over to the counter, clearing a space an appropriate distance from the food to set her down, watching as she pulled the apron over her head, tossing it onto a bar stool. He just wanted to get a look at her, wanted to thoughtfully decide where to begin, but then she was landing soft-footed on the tile and looking up at him through her eyelashes and grabbing him by the belt and suddenly he was incapable of making any decisions whatsoever.

“Peeta,” she said, her voice a low purr. “You know I had a lot of time to think about what I wanted to do to you when you got home.”

She’d never been able to fake sexy, even on the ice—she had to really feel it in order to play that part convincingly. Knowing this just made it so much hotter to see her like this now, knowing this seductive confidence was one hundred percent genuine.

“What did you think about?” he asked, fighting to keep his hands still at his sides, his whole body alight with the thrill of letting her have her way with him. “What did you decide?”

Katniss smiled, crouching down to unbuckle his belt. “All of it.” The button followed, then the zipper. “And I’m not stopping until we get a noise complaint.” Her hands stilled for a moment, and when she looked up at him, she looked just like her everyday self again, the mesmerising temptress vanished. Temporarily, he hoped. “Except I know you’re tired, and my alarm is still set for six-thirty, so that noise complaint may have to come soon.”

Peeta laughed, wanting to kiss that shy smile off her face as she bent back to her task, tugging at his waistband. “I think we can manage th—ahh!”

She was fucking quick, that minx. All business once more, her eyes narrowed to something feline as she traced her tongue experimentally along the underside of his dick.

Fuck, he was tired, but it was a tiredness growing so distant it seemed irrelevant. What was tiredness up against Katniss Everdeen, gloriously naked in their kitchen with his cock in her mouth?

She had him hard in seconds flat, one hand grabbing his ass, the other working his shaft in a way that had his head rolling back on his shoulders and his own hands reaching out blindly for support, fumbling for the counter, turning awkwardly so he could lean against it and let her work. “Fuck,” he gasped. His entire existence seemed to be rapidly narrowing to a single point, to the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her lips, the bite of her short fingernails against the back of his thigh.

“Katniss,” he moaned, feeling like he was at risk of breaking the granite countertop he was gripping it so hard, struggling to stay in place as his hips twitched, trying to push him forward, seeking more.

At this rate the noise complaint wouldn’t be the only thing coming soon.

“Fuck, Katniss,” he released his death grip on the counter, resting one hand on the top of her head. He wouldn’t pull her hair—he didn’t want to hurt her, and at this rate his muscle reactions were not wholly voluntary. If she did that swirl thing with her tongue again he might just—

His moan was half a shout, pulled from the pit of his belly with a force that left him breathless. It was like she could read his fucking mind, and she was not taking it easy on him. “Katniss—”

There was something gooey underneath his hand. Peeta opened his eyes, not realising he’d closed them, and looked down. The remains of a cupcake, which was now a mess of icing and crumbs, covered his hand, squishing up between his fingers. He must have leaned back and put his hand on the counter again, only apparently he’d landed on the cupcake she’d been icing when he came in.

Katniss straightened, laughing. “Honestly Peets, if you don’t like my baking, you could just say so, you don’t have to squash it.”

He was a little too dumbstruck at hearing his nickname on her lips to respond verbally, and just grinned back like an idiot. Katniss always called him Peeta—it was the boys who’d taken to calling him Peets. Something about the combination of the playful moniker and the sound of her voice was turning him on in a way he really didn’t have time to examine just then; he was rather enraptured by her as she lifted his wrist, took his fingers in her mouth, and sucked the icing right off.

It was just his fingers—it had been his actual dick two seconds ago—but still it felt so fucking hot, so fucking good it almost sent him over the edge. He really shouldn’t be this close, but goddamn—

That mischievous look was back as Katniss pulled his fingers out with a pop. She kept her eyes locked on his as she reached for the plate of cupcakes, not breaking eye contact as she took one, crouched back down, and smeared the top across his cock, leaving a thick trail of icing in its wake.

Had he died? Had he taken a hit from one of the Peacekeepers that had knocked him clean into the afterlife? Who was this woman and what could he have possibly done to deserve her?

Katniss closed her eyes, finally breaking the spell that had struck him still as a statue, and took him once more in her mouth. Peeta shuddered, fighting to keep control as she sucked him clean, her tongue almost scraping his skin as she slowly and with painstaking thoroughness licked off every mote of icing.

It was going to be too much, he could feel that tightness forming, that tug in his belly that he could try to resist but wouldn’t, not when any sort of thought had abandoned him and the edge of ecstasy was right there. Not when she was coaxing him toward it like a siren to a doomed sailor, relentless, almost demanding.

“Katniss,” he warned, almost whimpering when she didn’t stop. “I’m almost… Katniss I’m there.”

She didn’t pull back, but doubled down, one hand scratching gently at his stomach as the other dug into his backside, her mouth wrapped around him as he stuttered and came.

His knees nearly buckled, and he might have been able to blame it on tiredness from the game but right then he couldn’t even have said what sport he played. Katniss’s grip supported him for the split second he needed to find his balance again, the counter unhelpfully slippery under his sweaty palms.

“Holy shit, Katniss,” he said, catching his breath, wiping his hair out of his eyes. “Holy shit.”

He looked down when he felt a small hand on each side of his face, meeting the tender eyes of the love of his life and feeling like he was going to lose his balance again. She rose on tiptoe to kiss him, and his brain might not have been working and he might still not have breath in his body, but muscle memory brought him down to meet her. It didn’t matter the circumstances, he could never get enough.

This kiss was hopelessly soft, almost chaste in spite of what had just happened, and Peeta felt himself melting into her arms. Suddenly his head was on her shoulder, his face buried in her neck, his arms encircling her small, warm body, finding comfort in her that he couldn’t put into words. Maybe he was just a little boy who’d lost a game. Maybe he was a man beaten down by failure. But she knew. And gods above, she was just what he needed.

“Peeta,” she said quietly. “I love you so much.”

He squeezed her tight. “I love you too.” He pulled back reluctantly; his heart felt a bit raw again, but his brain had finally rebooted and it was beginning to come up with an idea. He ducked to grab her behind her knees, hoisting her up, bringing her back to that spot of clean counter they’d abandoned earlier. He set her down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he leaned close. “So. How’d I do?”

Whatever she expected him to say, it wasn’t that. She frowned, confused. “How’d you do? What—in the game?”

He frowned back, trying to look equally puzzled. “Was there a game tonight?” She started. “I meant just now.” He grinned as she rolled her eyes. “Do you think I got us our noise complaint?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it. These walls are pretty thick, and you weren’t as loud as I know you can be.” She thought for a moment. “You know, I don’t think I heard you say ‘Katniss’ half as loud as I’ve heard you shout ‘Mr Right’...”

He laughed, kissing the tip of her nose. “Well you’ve always been the loud one,” he quipped. Katniss scoffed. They both knew that wasn’t true.

Or at least they knew it wasn’t true in most situations. But there were some, if you knew just what to do…

He dropped to one knee, shuffling her closer to the edge of the counter. He didn’t break eye contact either as he rested his cheek on the inside of her thigh, winking up at her. “I’m sure we can get that noise complaint yet.”

#this one's for my boys #particularly to Soupy and Spezz and Aussie and Mo #thank you Soupy for being maybe the best person ever I hope you have had lots of Red Lobster #thank you to Spezz for your thighs and for helping me help Finnick O'Dair realise his full DILF potential #thank you to Aussie for making me realise Gale Hawthorne absolutely DESERVES to have that dirty dirty mustache #and finally #thank you to Mo #(and to Tessa Virtue)#for being a VERY convenient candidate for Peeta Mellark #please understand that allowing you to be Peeta for this one hot minute is the greatest honour of which I am capable of bestowing #besides of course the honour of saying you're maybe the only man besides Scott Moir who I would allow to date Tessa Virtue #Okay I'm done now this has been a strange production but somehow a very on-brand way for me to welcome myself back to Tumblr #The Hunger Games #The Hunger Games fic #a fic... of mine???#Everlark #Everlark fic #should I tag all the gender bending that went on here? Maybe. But no

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everythingadelaidemusic · 1 year

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Todays guest is funky 5 piece “Thoma and The Humbugs”. Their music will definitely get your feet tapping.

Q) Tell us a little bit about Thoma and the Humbugs? Members etc

A) Thoma and The Humbugs originally started when I (Thoma) returned to Adelaide to study at the Elder Conservatorium (Bachelor of Classical Composition) in 2019. The original members were all fellow students who helped bring to life the music that I had written since my previous album Thoma Henbest - An Invincible Summer. https://open.spotify.com/album/1bD0tQ9iVeLI1x8c7r038V?si=0gq4azE8T0CdKPk-iKp5Dw

The Humbugs are now most commonly;

Thoma Henbest - Lead Vocals and keys

Reggie Parker - Saxophone

Kyron Weetra - Backing Vocals and Bass

Barnabas Bossisto - Guitar

Zed Crawford - Drums

Esmond Choi (originally the moog synth bass player) has become an occasional bonus add on

Q) What are your short and long term goals?

A) Short term - Spread the good word, "The Humbugs exist, they sound groovy and they are a super fun live act to go see!"

Long term - Successfully achieve said short term goal?

Q) How was it dealing with the Covid Pandemic? Everything back to normal?

A) Well, I'm not going to lie, Covid kind of stole my dreams away... But, we turned it into a song at least! https://open.spotify.com/track/5LCyGM9YhKobiP9RMVAL7L?si=qh0HjO7ESvGHiX1DOxU7tQ

Is everything back to normal? I'd say probably not? People have learnt that staying at home is something to be encouraged and I think although the mainstreamers might be doing fine, the underground and niche scenes are struggling with crowd rehabilitation...

Q) What is your career highlight so far?

A) 2021 grand finalists in The District's battle of the bands was pretty good, so I guess the semi final verdict was probably the most thrilling moment of our career.

But we're also a far better band now, so shows like Hindley Street music hall for skullduggery or our Nexus Arts Fringe show would be up there too.

Q) Your music reminds me of bands like Jamiroquai and a little bit Earth Wind and Fire. Who are your main influences?

A) Bless you kind sir, as well as those guys, I'd include The Davids - Byrne and Bowie. Also, I don't do much without thinking, WWTMD (what would Tom Waits do).

Q) What is your writing process? Do you come in with songs already written, or is it normally a jam session?

A) Generally speaking, although nothing is ever normalised, I'll bring some scrunched up piece of fabric to the table, and the fellas, each with their own flavour, will help me sew and iron things out into the beautiful sonic garments that are The Humbugs tunes.

Q) With new venues like The Hindley Street Music Hall opening up, what do you think of the Adelaide music scene?

A) Haha, Well... Although I fear further ostracism, I will say; I think there are a PLETHORA of incredible bands in the Adelaide scene!

... And then there's a handful of gatekeepers whose interests don't necessarily lie within innovation, creativity and cultural development.

Q) Any gigs or new music coming that you would like to promote?

A) I'm currently in Europe for the next month, but I'm constantly writing and keen to play upon my return!

The only thing booked at this stage is going to be the proverbial tits though! Wednesday 19th of July at the cranker with my favourite Adelaide band Big Sloe!

Q) What Adelaide bands should we look out for?

A) BIG SLOE, I think they are sometimes up to 12 on stage? Which proves they really play for the love of music and not for financial gain.

I wouldn't think twice if I passed Harry Styles in the street, but I blush just thinking of the last time I saw those guys play!

Q) Apart from you guys of course, what would be your dream festival line up?

A) If we're dreaming... The Humbugs are playing just after sunset on a warm summer evening.

Before us, in a nice shaded spot, were some groove gods like Nicholas Jaar, Bonobo, the whole Kuti family - who have created a supergroup to make the people dance! Then, we play (and for some reason it's not totally underwhelming in comparison and everyone loves it and has a great time). After that there's a brief intermission where we all get to hang out together, followed by a long night of dancing to Groove Armada, Manu Chao, some spicy techno swing of some description and then, they bring out sleeping bags, there's no mosquitos, lots of space, the ground is surprisingly not muddy and we all fall asleep listening to Ludovico Einaudi and Yann Tiersen taking it in turns playing the Piano with a backing string section. In the morning, a mariachi band wake us up and there's breakfast for everyone!

Q) If you could invite 4 musicians to dinner (dead or alive) who would you invite?

A) Tom Wait, David Bowie, David Byrne and Nina Simone

Q) If you were given the chance to support one artist in the world, who would you pick?

A) Less of a dream, more of a - I think we'd be a great support act for them - Amyle and the Sniffers!

Q) If you were stuck on a deserted island with only one record, what would it be?

A) Blue Valentine by Tom Waits was my immediate thought, but maybe something less abrasive and instrumental like Solo Piano II by Chilly Gonzales?

Q) Where can people find out more about you?

#Spotify

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fleurrdelunee · 1 year

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000. THE RUNNER-UP.

PROLOGUE OF IN THIS UNSTABLE WORLD, TICCI-TOBY X EDEN L. WOLFHAGEN. COMPLETED MARCH 26TH, 2023. 789 WORDS.

WARNINGS : satire humor to dark topics such as suicide, depression, and murder.

Eden can't help but be a little bit curious. It's in her nature - humans naturally find their course like this. By fuckin' mistakes of all things.

Eden is going to kill him. Maybe not in that complete literal sense - but God - she's so close. Her brother's attitude makes her want to drop off a cliff. And if he doesn't do the job, Eden might as well. Kidding. "Mom? I'm home." Mandarin is effortless for De as she makes sure to not forget her keys at the door and to replace her shoes with slippers. Eden's mother isn't home as expected. The mom works seven days a week, more than nine-to-five, but it's become a habit saying those three words. Lucky for the soon-to-be-undergrad, she has the house all to herself until dinner. Fuck, college. Eden groans, entering her room and pressing that button that lights her room up RBG. She doesn't want to think about that as her computer roars alive; her brother grilled her on the ride back. Seriously. . . if he shows his face again to Eden within the next twenty-four hours, both of them are leaping off that cliff. Might be kidding.

Murder isn't funny, De. She has to keep reminding herself as she logs on - jokes like that don't slide. Even if they're the stupidest and littlest thoughts in your head. The irritation in her chest doesn't bubble away, Eden mumbling to herself that it's just a joke. In reality, she knows it is. She's angry that he's right. What can he say if he didn't even finish his four years? Eden stops herself from going any further. Can't go that low to insult Liam like that.

All these ideas in her head are meaningless, emotional, high-driven thoughts. And incredibly impulsive - did she really just think about pushing her older brother off a cliff? From a reality check? The light from the monitor blows up her room with blue light, and Eden squints hard. Oh, fuck, okay - karma! I get it. She types away on her keyboard, loading up documents to glance over her notes - it can't be ignored. De knows she will get into that local community college and start - to be clear in her mother's words - life. But murder, murder, murder - murder of all things should not be on her mind. Okay, suicidal thoughts, from how her life has been for the past twenty years. . . pretty normal.

Maybe not to the local psychiatrist down the street to Eden - but hey, they all judge, right? Eden snorts as she realizes. It's prevalent everywhere: media, entertainment, and real life. And it would be a goddamn good homebrew idea. Silly, those notes aren't school related. College is the last thing she will ever think about. Dungeon and Dragons is elite. And she won't be thinking about DnD for the next twelve or so years of her life. University applications can wait. This campaign she's running cannot. Whodunits are a classic. Googling up some random inspirations, Eden clicks off her playlist, ideas rumbling in that head of hers. She ignores when her mother calls her for dinner - a terrible old habit she can't break. Eden is busy - throwing a ball against the wall to changing channels on the television. Nothing is sparking in her head what a damn good killer would be in a whodunit. Homebrews are difficult. She knows this as the clock hits twelve, exhausted as ever. Eden can't give this singular idea up. It's good, and it's a classic. Johnny, Bluebell, fuck, they would all love it. You know. . .

YouTube is everyone's comfort, and it's out of habit when Eden clicks on it. The first thing that pops up is a few Good Mythical Mornings, a favorite. Markiplier, a few Overwatch montages, guides, tips - De needs to get back into that - her computer is fixed - shit, is that a list of niche horror movies? Eden's type. Time passes by as she watches the video, yet Eden notices something at the end when recommendations come up. Creepypasta? MrCreepypasta himself.

He's still active? That thought almost drives her insane. That's it! All those original characters she created into that fandom. Eden, you could fucking use them! A bursting feeling, she describes it as. The rush of adrenaline, a fucking eureka. This might be the biggest mistake of her life. Eden glances at her phone, reading the notes she made. SCPs were at the top. More sci-fi, and it made more sense with all the mythical creatures. Creepypasta would be the runner-up. It didn't feel right to put it at the bottom. Almost like she was disappointing her own inner child. Fuck, childhood trauma sucks. Yet, Eden doesn't scold herself when she deletes the note and renames her campaign doc as WIP: Creepypasta.

please check this fic's masterlist here for the prologue author's note and any information you need.

＃LINKS.

in this unstable word's masterlist. request. archive ver. blog general masterlist.

next.

as of 3/26/2023, requests are closed.

＃TAGLIST.

none.

＃TAGZ.

#—( IN THIS UNSTABLE WORLD ★ )#creepypasta #creepypasta x oc #ticci toby #tobias erin rogers #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby oc insert #marble hornets #timothy wright #brian thomas #the operator #jeff the killer #slenderman #masky #hoody #original character #character insert #ticci-toby

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sunarintoes · 3 years

Text

Pretty Setter Squad Boyfriend Headcanons

part one can be found here II wc: 2.4k II includes: kageyama, suga, kenma, akaashi, semi and oikawa II atsumu and shirabu

rewriting because i cringe at the old hcs 😭

✗ Kagggggsss

✗ The emotionally constipated blueberry <3 oh yeahh 😎

✗ Okay well first off he can barely process his emotions (*cough* evidently *cough*)

✗ When you two first started going out he was quite shy and unsure of what to do so you may have had to guide him a bit, but if youre equally shy then it just would have taken longer to get to where you are now; oh and if that was the case it probably took some random burst of energy/confidence from either one of you to make the first move.

✗ He will buy you milk but uf you hate it (like me 🤢) he will buy you another drink - like juice :D

✗ I dont think he will be the most affectionate, it’s not his love language - and neither are words haHAH. His love language is most likely quality time and gift giving.

✗ He does like to cuddle though 😳

✗ In fact he really likes to :D his favourite is when youre sitting in his lap while he watches a volleyball game (at home - he hates pda).

✗ This brings us to our next, short point. Kageyama absolutely despises pda, he just thinks its something meant for closed doors and he does not believe that he has to display his relationship for the whole world to ogle at. The most he will do is light hand holding - mostly just linking your pinkies though.

✗ When it comes to height he does not care if you're smaller or taller than him ← but bb, please don't tease him about his height if he’s shorter because he will blow a fuse.

✗ He alternates between small spoon and big spoon, kinda depending on his mood.

✗ BOY O BOY does he get jealous. Uh please reign in your setter >:(

✗ Its mostly due to the fact that he’s insecure about himself - he thinks you will leave him like everyone else (in middle school - yes, he is still traumatised from it.)

✗ When he does get jealous he might be snappy to the other person and glare at them or be snappy at you and glare at you. When this happens please give him space because he needs it to clear his head. When he feels better he will come up to you and hug you into his chest so that he can’t see your face and you cant see his, then he will mumble an apology.

✗ Ever since you two began to date he has practiced apologising and getting better at apologising, this is because his inability to admit to his own mistakes was a sour patch in your relationship that almost ended it but he really did not want to lose you so he sucked up his pride and worked on what he had to; of course you also worked in what you had to. God I love character development 😩

✗ Dates are mostly at home dates or dates revolving around volleyball. If you're not into volleyball, Kageyama would not date you, it's something he is so passionate about and loves with every breath he takes (like you) and he refuses to compromise one love for the other.

✗ ooooh he likes arcade dates a well! He thrives in a competitive environment. If you're not competitive and don't want to compete against him then he’ll compete for you - against the machines lol. Of course you play as well! But i doubt youre as competitive as this blueberry, and if you are - well i guess at the end of the day youll both be stacked in tokens 🤠

✗ Sugawara my beloved <33

✗ He. Is. So. Affectionate!

✗ Mans loves skin on skin contact ykwim?

✗ He is down for pda and does not care what others think - only what you think <3.

✗ I mean he might make out with you in public if you ask nicely

✗ Dates are very fun with him, he’ll take you to cafes, to amusement parks, to carnivals, to movies and all the like. He’s a cliche lover and he’s proud of it.

✗ Your first kiss happened on New Years Eve/Day. The two of you sat on the roof of his house and watched as the fireworks lit up the starry sky of Miyagi and chanted the count down together. The second ‘one’ left your lips he grabbed your face (softly!!) and pulled you in to crash his lips against yours.

✗ Suga loves to cuddle, preferably face to face because he just thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world.

✗ He is not the most jealous person, he definitely does get jealous but never of strangers. It's more when his close friends or your close friends get a bit too comfortable if that makes sense? He normally plays it off with humour and messes around because he acknowledges that he is insecure and that it is most likely him thinking of the worst case scenario; however if he really does start to worry and get jealous then he will sit you down and talk about it with you. To him, communication is key.

✗ Ngl Kenma is definitely in my top 3 favourites.

✗ I may or may not be a Kenma kinnie 😳🙈

✗ i love my non-toxic gamer boy <33 anywho: no matter what ANYONE says, kenma is definitely affectionate. In fact I'd say he’s one of the most affectionate boyfriends. As we all know, he is shy and introverted but he likes to hang around and spend time with people he likes. He also talks a lot to them. So I hc that he’s a bit of a chatterbox with you and it makes him really happy when you let him talk about a game or a theory he has. He’s a great listener so you can count on him to pay attention to what you say.

✗ if you didn't already have one, he bought you a switch. He loves video game dates especially when he can't see you in person (*cough* lockdown *cough*)

✗ he loves when you sit on his lap when he plays video games. I know everyone talks about sitting on their partner’s lap as some sexual thing and yeah that can happen but most of the time he’s really soft with you and just enjoys being close to you. Loves when you cuddle into him while he plays so that he can place his head on yours or your shoulder.

✗ i think he is a bit shy when it comes to kisses but definitely warms up after a while. He absolutely refuses to sleep if he doesnt get your goodnight kisses. He loves to kiss you on your nose and your cheeks the most. He loves when you kiss him on the forehead and the nose <3

✗ kenma is not one for pda, it's just not his vibe. He prefers intimacy and privacy; his relationship is not a movie for the world to watch and gawk at. Especially timeskip!kenma. Though that does not mean he wont ever show you skinship in public, occasionally he will softly hold your hand and maybe press a light kiss to your cheek.

✗ in terms of jealousy, he is moderate. Kenma, as we all know, has incredible people reading skills, so he understands the situation pretty clearly and knows when you’re uncomfortable/what you think of the situation. Most of the time you can deal with the unwanted attention and he doesnt get jealous, but he does get insecure. He shows this by going quiet and looking away when you look at him, you can cure this by giving him hugs when you get home.

✗ Akaashi my beloved <3 he’s so pretty i can't even-

✗ ugh! Just imagine him in a dark/light academia aesthetic.

✗ perfection.

✗ akaashi is the sweetest most attentive boyfriend, he loves you to pieces and never fails to let you know. He tells you he loves you every morning and every night. He probably makes meals for you and leaves notes in that have a sweet comment like “i love you, you're the best <3”

✗ he love back hugging you BUT also receiving back hugs 🥺✨

✗ akaashi is a booknerd and an introvert. Please cuddle up to him and let him read his book to you.

✗ there are only 2 things that can restore his social battery: sleeping and you.

✗ which means he wants cuddles when he’s tired 😊

✗ he is not jealous. He just doesn't get jealous, maybe annoyed if the third party is being a bit too pushy and you're clearly uncomfortable, but he just never feels jealous. No matter how hard you may try to make him jealous (plz dont cause that's kinda toxic imo) he just won't feel that way.

✗ definitely the ‘mom/dad’ as he carries sinister, pads, bandaids → a whole first aid kit basically, everywhere. Bb must be prepared.

✗ dates are so sweet with him, cute niche cafes and dimly lit libraries. Maybe the occasional abandoned building. He loves spending time with you, so really he's happiest whenever he’s with you; having coffee at McDonalds or a niche cafe won't change anything.

✗ he’s hard to pinpoint for pda. I feel like he’s indifferent about it. He probably prefers to keep it indoors or to just small and sweet gestures (no making out in public sorry-). It definitely comes down to your preferences, if you don't like it then he won't and vice versa.

✗ semi semi semi semi semi semi

✗ omg mr musician

✗ he definitely plays guitar - lead guitar and bass guitar.

✗ skilled fingies for sure 😗

✗ boy why are musicians so hot???? 😫😫😫💦💦

✗ he writes songs about you. Semsem has a bit of trouble saying exactly how he feels, so he writes it and sings it to you with a small little smile and eyes full of love.

✗ off topic but Semu has the best music taste in haikyuu

✗ he loves hugs so much <33 please hug and cuddle with him 24/7

✗ very affectionate, he’s always touching you someway. Loves kissing your forehead.

✗ he is jealous. Yeah definitely. He writes songs about being jealous 🗿 not that you mind of course ‘cause they're bangers. I think he might get snappy when he’s jealous, not directly at you but at the other person. He definitely gets a bit bitchy. Sometimes he acts that way to you so you've just gotta slap some sense into him. Say something like “what's your problem?” or “tell me what your problem is so i can help fix it.” ← that's probably the best thing to say.

✗ afterwards he’ll just snuggle with you until he feels better.

✗ he asks for your opinion about his songs all the time, please be honest (but also praise them if you like them lol)

✗ he takes you to niche spots he finds, like hidden concerts and stuff. Loves when you come to his gigs <3 oh and when you scream for him (in more ways than one).

✗ dates are cute and fun. Mostly walking around together → carnivals, main street, farmers market. Those kind of things.

✗ when it comes to pda he loves it. Loves being able to show the world who his s/o is. If you don't like it then he will tone it down and only do what you’re comfortable with. If you're also into pda then he will happily make out with you anywhere (you're one of THOSE couples 🤢 /j)

✗ all round best boyfie <3

✗ oikawa 😳 have i told y'all how much i love him? Oikawa is the best written character, no cap, he is so complex and real it's crazy. It's so fun to write about him because you can pick him apart, you know his flaws, his weaknesses, his nightmares but also his strengths and dreams. Anywho i'll stop ranting now but i just love writing for such a perfectly imperfect character-

✗ he puts up a cocky exterior but thats all false. He's as scared as you are, he's scared that you'll leave him like his exes because of how obsessed and focused he is on volleyball. However he is a changed man, he's learned to balance his priorities. If you ever feel like you're being sidelined please communicate with him.

✗ he values communication above all else and wants nothing more in a partner than for them to also value communication.

✗ back to the point → if you feel insecure of your relationship and that volleyball is taking too much of his attention let him know. He will change that. To an extent → he may have an important game coming up which is why he is focusing more, but he will always find time for you.

✗ he never forgets to text you good morning and good night. He also sends you wholesome memes and makes sure you're taking care of yourself - they're like reminders for him to also take care of himself.

✗ he is both jealous and insecure. Everyone who gets too close to you or spends a lot of time with you, he is jealous of. Jealous because he wishes he could spend more time with you but he knows he can't - not without jeopardising his volleyball career. He's also insecure, because he knows you could just leave him for a more fulfilling, more attentive, more balanced relationship. You know that too, I mean, of course you could leave him but no one would be as good as him. No one could match up to your beautifully flawed boyfriend.

✗ he is affectionate, very, very affectionate. He loves you so much. And because he spends so much time on volleyball, anytime with you he's touching you - memorizing every dint, every curve, everything about you so that he won't ever forget.

✗ Oikawa has trouble sleeping unless he's with you, he wants to sling to you in his sleep and be grounded and remember that he is loved and cherished and appreciated y'know?

✗ pda is not an issue for him. He doesn't care what anyone else says or thinks :P in this relationship the only opinions that matter are his and your’s. Tell him you're uncomfortable with something and he won't do it, and vice versa. But otherwise, like Semi, he won't mind having a good makeout session with you in the middle of the street ;)

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harryimaginedstories · 4 years

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on your side

genre: au (while I don’t like the term ‘au-fic’ at all imagine the two characters are in college together and in their early twenties.) angst and some fluff as well.

about 5k words

it’s entirely different than anything I have ever published and I really love it. please let me know what you think and stay safe during these wild and often scary times.