#FS au

[floweredwishess]

What's going on here..

[alacants]

i really love fics where there is clearly a fully-realized world underpinning the story but it isn't overexplained—the author relies on you to intuit the necessary background from the information presented in the foreground. i'm therefore about to overexplain the figure skating au to within an inch of its natural life. 

this is tagged role reversal and that was the basic premise—au where jannik is the one from a country with a recent record of success and carlos is from the middle of the fucking wilderness. tennistically skateistically speaking.

fs fans will know that the italian skating federation is right on the border of powerhouse status—it's not quiiiite big 3-4 (russia, canada, us, arguably japan/france) but it's real close. their greatest success hasn't necessarily been in the men's discipline but should a generational talent come along all the elements would be in place to immediately launch him into the stratosphere from the comfort of almost-home. jannik's nearly-lifelong training base—the icelab in bergamo— is only about 100 miles from sexten as the crow flies, just a bit farther than the distance between murcia and villena. the sacrifice is his mother driving him 3 hours there and back on saturdays, then later on boarding in bergamo during the week and going home on the weekends. a small metaphorical price to pay to train at an isu center of excellence from literal childhood.

(so why did it take jannik so long to break through? jump consistency—he lost his jumps after a massive growth spurt and, as the headcase references indicate, even after he got them back he stayed spooked for a long time. the real bergamo legacy is his pure and flawless skating skills, good enough that even the heavily foreshadowed simone-fixing-carlos montage won't be enough to catch up. and he'll still have those skills after his body can't hold up to the jumps any more, just as carlos will still have unmatched performance quality. in a way their late-career competitions are going to be much more interesting than their peak.)

meanwhile, spain. if you don't know much about figure skating i cannot emphasize the extent to which, on the figure skating map, spain is nothing and nowhere. …or was, until out of the blue they produced world champion and olympic bronze medalist javier fernandez. javi falls neatly in between the juanki and carlos generations, so i've split him in two and made juanki the freak pioneer, the one didn't quite beat the structural disadvantage, and carlos the freak protege, the one who will.

juanki… oh juanki. comment referring to him as the local narrative punching bag couldn't be more correct. imagine if irl juanki was exactly the same except born in a country where no one played tennis. this is what it's like to be figure skater juan carlos ferrero, a special talent in an esoteric sport with no resources whatsoever.

the only way juanki would have been able to achieve what he did in the late 90s/early 2000s is to have begun training abroad no later than his mid-teens. you can draw the obvious corollary wrt his family history. something he would have deeply conflicted feelings about, even today, manifesting in a total commitment to his life's mission: a real purpose-built training rink in his part of spain. a mission that is much, MUCH more quixotic than a tennis academy. the most he can dream of is to provide a good environment to learn the fundamentals, help young skaters start competing, bring in guest experts and host training camps and maybe, just maybe, someday, this will help a kid with promise make a real go of figure skating. and then he gets carlos.

right person, right place, right time. carlos is able to launch himself as a competitive junior skater while training in his home country, propelled by juanki's resistance to the idea that the only path to success must be for a child to leave their home and family + learned experience that it's possible to come from a humble skating background and still medal at the top. this is very good for carlos at first. this is less good for carlos later.

namely i think that when carlos first begins to advance there's an element of… idealism? pride? naivete? in how juanki understands his own career, that serves as a early blind spot. like, yes, world bronze, european champion… under the 6.0 system, courtesy of a certain amount of patronization. the judges are happy to reward this obvious talent who may not have the technical chops but has a real feel for the ice, a special quality to his performance… to a point. but that bronze was his ceiling. he was never going to be in the running for gold next. (which doesn't matter, since in 2004 he got the first of several injuries and by 2006 it was all over.) 

20 years later, this is not that different from the judging that lifted carlos to the euro gold. here is an obvious talent performing the skate of a lifetime and landing quads. when the faves flop—casper ruud that was your title for the taking!—you bet he's going to get rewarded. but you only get that shock and awe bump once. (also those quads were sooooo underrotated. his jump technique is Not Good.) afterwards, he's going to suffer from an expectation gap. seventh at the olympics is a much more realistic assessment of the tier he'll find himself in…. unless he makes a big change.

for non-fs fans… it's hard to explain all the factors that influence a supposedly objective score, but suffice to say there are many, many intangibles including but not limited to politicking and packaging. politicking = networking and advocacy on your behalf by your federation and/or coach. a federation like spain has zero power, so it would all come down to the coach. packaging = your combination of music/costume/choreo style, your image on the ice. does it look good and do you sell it well. a coach who hasn't been engaged at the elite senior level for 18 years is going to struggle because what worked in 2003 isn't necessarily going to work in 2022. and part of coaching is understanding what judges want and giving it to them. 

(you know juanki's still resisting the music-with-lyrics rule change so hard. he might understand it but he does NOT like it.)

juanki's a fast learner but he's all on his own out here—trying to coach carlos and teach regular lessons and keep the rink operational. he's doing everything he possibly can to revive all his old skating connections from 2003 and leverage them on carlos' behalf but that's only a drop in the bucket. he could drop all his other obligations and devote himself solely to leveling up as an elite senior coach for carlos, but it still might not be enough, fast enough. and it would kill the rink.

deep down he knows that he should have pushed carlos to make the switch immediately after that breakthrough season. he just resisted it for a long time. he doesn't want carlos to leave! he cares about him so much! how could he not, this magic gift from the fates, the consolation and the reward and the meaning to everything he's worked for over the last 17 years of his life! like. jesus. i am actually making myself feel bad thinking about this but it has to happen and juanki knows it has to happen. carlos fought him for MONTHS before accepting it, and it should go without saying that the major reason he did finally accept it was—in every sense of this word—the carrot. lmao.

(what finally pushed juanki over the line? well, it hurt to see carlos' scores that post-euro season, when he knew what they really could be. he loves carlos. he wants more than anything for carlos to be the skater he has the potential to be. and also oh idk maybe there's a new relationship in his life that's helping him face up to some of these emotional challenges. examines nails.)

juanki's still going to be listed as part of carlos' coaching team, carlos is still going to spend the off-season training in valencia, the odds are good that juanki's going to be the one putting the cry in kiss&cry when milan rolls around. i think the carlos experience does inspire him to commit to high-level coaching and he becomes a fantastic and highly-regarded junior coach, with young skaters from across europe choosing to train with him. the rink in valencia gets a major upgrade and it might not ever be an isu center of excellence but it's a beloved community institution and a source of local pride. HAPPY ENDING!!!!

…got sidetracked there. anyway, the point of this story is: what if jannik was the one who desperately wanted to connect with someone on his level, only he didn't know it. until it happened. 

[rattonoid]

I'm separating this from the fic post because it looks good It looks like this: "There are two wolves inside me: one is a bastard, the other is also a bastard"

[indigos-stardust]

Flicker

Hundreds of years ago the fire moth people, or Nari'shi, lived on volcanic Islands to the South. Unfortunately, there was a catastrophic period of forest fires in the nearby lands that spread from the wild, to crops, and finally villages.

The Nari'shi contain the ability to generate enough heat to create flames. This is because they naturally have a sixth sense to read energy through their antennae and have a much higher resistance to the natural heat from the volcano's they live nearby and depend on. Due to these factors, they can use their own stores of energy and release that through the friction their thick fur creates in fast movement. They even had group dances that would create sparks from the fast movements and touches.

However, that ability to create flame is why they were blamed for the tragedies that continued, even if they was no real evidence they had done those things. Due to complicated politics of the time, including the greed and power tactics of many leaders, they were used as scapegoats for not just the fires but many other things.

During their season of Dormancy And Rest, or Winter, many attacks were made against them using cruel techniques. IN the end their rule was dismantled and they were forced to pay for "retributions." Having no home and no wealth, they agreed to contracts that essentially trapped them and their families in generations of forced labor, abusive surveillance, and working conditions that violated many human rights.

Most work in the Fire Works, where their energy is used either to forge weapons with their fire or create magical energy capsules for a variety of purposes. It's a grim and gruesome reality. Schooling and any method for empowerment or escape from that lifestyle are banned using racist ideas to back it up.

Red, or rather Flicker in this au, worked and lived in those horrible conditions. One day, an older man who had taken care of him, was being yelled at by one of the surveyors. He was too slow. It didn't matter that he was overworked, exhausted, and slowed down by the years of intense labor. He'd be punished for his slowness anyways. Most of the time, the only reason it happened was just to make an example.

At a certain point, everyone reaches a limit. Even though it was stupid, and the elder man begged him not too, Flicker tried to defend him. Tried to make an excuse or aid him in some way, to make the pain less. Things only escalated unfortunately. Then other people were roped into it. More serious threats were made.

Flicker, well, he ended up determined to defend him. And with his own temper his own flame flared up. So hot it broke his own restraints. Apparently, he was "gifted" with a strong fire. People like that were sent down to the Tartarus Plant. No one ever came back from there. No one that ever went there saw the sky again. The beautiful sun would be a dead memory.

So he ran. Sure, it was a rather explosive escape. Sure, if he was caught he'd face a fate worse than death itself. Maybe he accidentally did cause several fires because of the adrenaline and lack of restraint paired with this "gift" (more like a curse.) Miraculously he manages to escape on a raft. Or well, he would've been shot down if Flicker did that. The Island was full of guards.

It's more accurate that they thought he died and then he thought he died when the small boat exploded around him. Flicker wasn't exactly sure what happened. A selkie folk, who knew the ocean and its depths, wouldv've realized that he'd been dragged off by a vicious rip current. And managed to survive purely because he was entangled in a boyyant piece of the small boat he stole.

As for the whole "drowning" issue? No clue on that, for all anyone would ever guess is that either some guardian spirit was watching over him or maybe he just was so near death and hot that he just created an air bubble from all the water he was heating up. Who knows honestly.

Of course, when he washed up in some small cave on the cliff side of some foreign land, he had to admit he was relieved. Sure, there was no way out due to the tides that blocked the exit of the cave. Perhaps, he'd never leave this place and he'd just starve inside, it wasn't like he could swim. Honestly, it was better than whatever fate was awaiting him at the Fire Works.

But then he noticed a frozen chunk of ice near the corner of the cave. At first, he thought it was a strange rock, he'd never seen ice before. There was even clams growing around it as well. He felt droplets melt as he touched it. While he observed the strange thing, he noticed a strange shape inside. So, he melted through it. And then...

A MEAL- Okay, it was probably some dead disease infested animal that died some unfortunate death- But cmon! It PROBABLY wouldn't kill him and honestly- Maybe he could make this work! He'd get enough energy from eating that weird freaky looking animal and maybe he'd learn how to fish! He could just- Drink the water dripping from the stalactites above! He'd survive!!

Well, that's what he thought before he was about to try to cook the dead thawed thing and then it suddenly opened its eyes and shrieked and bit him. Oh, and then it turned into a whole freaking man with weird white hair and crap.

Then the guy started screaming more! Sure, maybe it was because Flicker was screaming too- But in his defense he didn't expect his dead meal to just BECOME A RANDOM GUY?

Things calmed down and they established that they didn't want to kill each other. Then they both demanded what the hell was up with the other dude in the cave. Apparently "Buwe" was trapped in ice or cursed or something. He seemed strangely concerned for Flicker though, Flicker couldn't really understand why.

After a bit of peace and making up for the "accidentally trying to eat/bite you" scenario with some fish that Buwe had caught they chatted some more. Buwe was determined to take Flicker home with him. But the more Buwe talked.. Yeah, Flicker wasn't exactly schooled, but he started to realize everything this guy was describing.. From money and the state of the kingdoms and whatever else? He sounded like he was alive when the Nari'shi were free.

So, they started to put together that Buwe's entire family and tribe were probably dead because apparently he'd been frozen in ice for over two hundred years.

Buwe, brilliant man that he is, decides he's going to cope by adopting Flicker. Flicker, who doesn't want to die and is appreciative of this strange man who has provided food and protection find's himself accepting this agreement. Even though he's literally an adult but apparently, "Smol brother is smol brother" was enough reasoning for Buwe so this was just his life now.

They tried to go back to Buwe's old village, but after seeing the way the grief absolutely wrecked Buwe, Flicker encouraged them to find a new life elsewhere together. Buwe agreed and they set off.

[luciluck2046-md]

All Polls

Yeah I got bored and I don't know who to ship N with besides Vixen and Uzi so uhhhhh. (But I'm doing VUzi and I also made the killer gang be siblings. And Jade is like, wanting Tessa)

Idk guys, can you give me more examples?

[corner-stories]

a minute this morning

Annie Leonhardt. Armin Arlert. Early Morning Practice. Post Grand Prix Final. Quadruple Salchows. Figure Skating AU. 2588 words. (ao3.)

Annie arrives at the rink barely a week into the new year, pulling up to the parking lot underneath a dark, mid-winter sky. She leaves her car with the weight of her skating bag digging into her shoulder and the heat of a reasonably-priced coffee warming her hand. The chaos surrounding this season’s Grand Prix Final — as well as the peace of the holidays — has finally faded away, leaving nothing in its place but the humdrum of her everyday life and typical Toronto weather. 

By the grace of god it is not snowing, yet the chill in the air and the lack of sun in the sky is enough to make the walk from her car to the rink’s front door feel perilous. The fear of slipping on black ice two weeks before nationals is enough to make her step very slowly. 

Annie takes a sip of her mocha as she enters the building, the warmth and quietude of the concourse greets her like an old friend. 

She walks by the rooms she’s grown accustomed to during her years at the North York Skating Club. She passes by the office, a communal space not dedicated to one coach but to all of them, and waves to Zeke through the open door. As to be expected, he’s far too busy taking a phone call to give her anything more than an acknowledging nod. She passes by the ancient water fountain that has seen better days, a contraption she swears is twice her age. Then she passes by the dance studio, something she goes out of her way to do.

Annie crosses her fingers that space will be empty, meaning that her usual pre-session warm-up could be performed in one of her favourite rooms of the building. The fact that the studio has the most effective heating vents is simply a bonus. 

When she discovers that it’s occupied, she isn’t mad nor is she disappointed. Instead she peeks through the glass in the window to spy who’s inside, catching a glimpse of the resident ice dancers currently utilizing the wooden floors the only way they know how. 

It’s never out of the ordinary to see Mikasa and Jean working on their elements in the studio. Annie only gleans a few seconds into the two practising their lifts. In that time she can already notice the fluidity in the way they both move, a distinct balletic quality that’s evident in things like the position of Jean’s arms or the unbreakable poise Mikasa possesses as she climbs into her partner’s embrace. 

Through their combined efforts, Jean gets into a besti squat and Mikasa maneuvers around him until her foot rests against his thigh, her posture immediately straightening into place once she’s found her balance. She holds herself upright and raises her arms into a position reminiscent of a swan flying beneath a full moon, and already Annie is remembering how impeccable the curve lift looks when actually on the ice, an element made distinct by the taller frames and longer limbs of both skaters. 

Then suddenly, the lithe and limber quality of Mikasa and Jean’s skating is halted by the reality of ice dance rehearsals. When it’s time to come down from the lift, Mikasa tries to transition into her partner’s arms — a movement that they’ve been known to perform with precision and grace yet somehow ends with Jean stumbling and Mikasa awkwardly folded over his shoulder in the world’s most inefficient fireman’s carry. 

The sound of Mikasa’s muffled cursing is heard from behind the door. It mixes with the music playing from the speakers — the kind of piano sonata that sounds like the notes are crashing into each other like a form of harmonized chaos. 

The image of the ice dancers floundering about to such an exhilarating piece causes Annie to let out a single curt hum. 

A smirking Annie leaves the hallway as the current winners of the Junior Grand Prix Final continue to curse and try to avoid tumbling onto the floor.

Under normal circumstances Annie would head to the change rooms, swap her street clothes for her training clothes, and stretch as much as she can before even touching her skates. But today she takes a detour and heads straight to the ice. 

The chill in the air immediately hits her face, but it’s the kind that she’s used to, the kind that doesn’t deter her as she approaches the boardless rink. She takes another sip of her mocha as she lays eyes on the skater currently using the space. 

Armin Arlert takes the ice in the way he usually does. Even in practice, he flows and floats like he’s dancing on air, performing his arabesque like he weighs nothing at all. A distinct princely quality overtakes Armin as he skates, a gentleness that imbues every inch of him as his step sequence takes him to all ends of the rink. Then out of nowhere he transitions into a jump. 

A distinct “shink!” noise resonates through the room as Armin ascends into the air, where in the span of a second Annie witnesses him perform all four rotations and land on one skate so smoothly that god only knows how he makes it look easy. She’s swiftly reminded that seeing Armin’s quadruple salchow in the stands at the Final was one thing, but seeing it up close is a whole other. 

In one corner of the rink are Armin’s coaches, who are both sporting the typical stony expressions that Annie’s come to expect from Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman. Sometimes she doesn’t know if they’re even impressed with yet another one of Armin’s perfectly rotated jumps — then again, it’s not like Zeke becomes all sunshine and rainbows during her own sessions. 

Annie watches Armin finish the routine, recognizing each element in his choreographic sequence as he performs it. Crossovers to spread eagle, then a series of twizzles on his right foot. More crossovers, Ina Bauer with a full backbend, then a death drop into a sit spin, each turn getting faster and faster with every rotation. And once he’s done, Armin halts in place, stopping every fiber of himself with his arms in third position, his face as stoic as can be. 

Annie hears the coaching duo clap, glancing across the rink to see only Erwin —  and not Levi — smiling. Armin swiftly drops his serious facade, allowing his usual boyish beam to return to his pretty face. He looks both proud of his work and relieved to have gotten through the program cleanly. He catches his breath as he goes to the edge of the ice to chat with his team. While Annie cannot hear what they are saying, she infers from Erwin’s enthusiastic hand gesturing and Levi’s neutral —  and not disappointed — expression that what words are being exchanged are positive. 

As they chat Annie checks her watch and realizes she has roughly thirty minutes until she has to get ready for her own session, unless Zeke feels like yapping on the phone all morning. When she glances up and across the rink she sees Armin looking back at her, still sporting that sweet smile of his as he gently waves. She can’t help but wonder at one point in his practice did he notice she was there — did he realize just after his quad sal or right after he finished?

“Can we break for fifteen?” Armin asks his coaches. 

Erwin nods, arms crossed over his chest. “Sure.” 

“Ten,” Levi quickly adds in, speaking with the firmness of a stern father putting his foot down, like five extra minutes of rest will suddenly spell doom for Armin’s entire skating career. 

“Drink some water,” Levi continues, then abruptly turns around. “I gotta check on those brats in the studio.” 

Annie scoffs and swears she can see Erwin rolling his eyes. As Erwin follows his co-coach in leaving the ice, Armin looks across the space and meets her gaze, shrugging in amusement at Levi’s typical antics. 

Wasting no time, Armin skates across the rink, hopping off the ice and onto the mats once he’s close to her. 

“Hey,” Armin says, smiling. He greets her with a peck on the forehead. “When’d you get here?” 

“Five… ten minutes ago?” Annie guesses. She notices just how much Armin towers over her when he’s in his skates and she’s not in hers. “Nice sal, by the way.” 

Armin lets out a chuckle, the awkward kind meant to both accept praise and deflect it. 

“You think so?” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I doubled it back on the Final, during the free. Figured that Erwin and Levi would drill me on it once we got back home.” 

Annie shrugs. The memory of the competition is still fresh in her head, where Armin was able to execute a clean skate despite doubling the sal in what was meant to be a quad salchow-triple toe. For his first Grand Prix Final since turning senior, finishing third is certainly far from a bad thing. On top of that, Annie can still remember things like the chill of the rink creeping into her sleeves, the audience applauding every jump no matter the outcome, and the hammering of her heart as she watched her boyfriend skate his way to bronze. 

She had watched him compete countless times before and never experienced such feelings, but back then things were decidedly different. Perhaps there was something about officially calling Armin her significant other that changed the way she watched him skate, something that made her sit on the literal edge of her seat as he proceeded through the rest of his program, where a successful quad toe-triple toe combination earned a thunderous applause from the Montpellier crowd. 

With that in mind, she can’t help but wonder how Armin felt watching her barely make it into fourth, but swiftly reminds herself to not dwell on that for too long.

“Well, I doubled mine as well,” Annie reminds him — trying her best to not sound bitter, but to no avail. “And look who came back with a medal.” 

On the bright side, she managed to land all her jumps just like him, even if she couldn't complete the "triple" part of her triple sal. But on the not so bright side, her rear end still hurts from when she stumbled out of her step sequence. 

Annie gives Armin a very brief look at indignation, but soon takes a breath and reminds herself what’s past is past. 

Armin notices this, then before Annie knows it he’s pulling her into a hug, something he tends to do when he simply wants to comfort her. As of this season, he’s been hugging her a lot. 

“Hey, come here,” he says just before her face meets his chest. “I still think you did well.” 

Annie smirks, yet can’t stop herself from hugging him back. “Thanks, Coach .”

The scent of him fills her, an aroma that reminds her of soap. The ever-present chill in the air still permeates every corner of the rink, an area so vast that even in the open it feels like she and Armin are in their own little corner of the world. 

“No, I mean it. You still got into the final,” Armin continues. He breaks their hug so that he can look her in the eye. “And made it to fourth, even. It means something, I promise.” 

His boyish earnesty makes the smirk on her face soften. It’s hard to deflect any compliments when Armin is doing his damndest to ensure that she hears him. 

“Zeke says that fourth is the worst place to be after second,” she recalls, her usual cynicism not fading away entirely.

Armin shrugs, undeterred. “Yeah, well… that’s Zeke,” he remarks, keeping his hands on her shoulders. “You know, I saw him walk into a glass door last week.” 

Annie scoffs, which is usually the closest thing she can muster to a laugh. Despite the rumours going around that Annie Leonhardt lacks a sense of humour, the thought of her esteemed coach stepping straight into a glass pane sparks the slightest bit of amusement to her. 

“You know he’s in the office, right?” Annie points out. 

Unbothered, Armin shrugs once more. “Yeah, but the walls are thick.” 

Without another word, he steps away and heads towards the far ends of the stands where his skating bag is. Annie follows and sits as Armin proceeds to use his break time wisely. She watches him enjoy a well-earned drink from his water bottle, then wipe the beading sweat from his forehead. His hair has been growing longer lately, not long enough to remind her of the bowl cut he once sported as a junior, but enough to necessitate the use of a headband. And even then, his nimble fingers still struggle to brush the strands from his face. 

“Your sesh is right after this, right?” Armin asks, prompting Annie to realize that she had been staring at him for a second too long. 

“It is,” she answers quickly. “But I should—”

Behind them the door to the main rink opens. Upon looking over, both Annie and Armin are greeted to the sight of Zeke in the entrance.

“Annie, can I talk to you real quick?” asks the coach. 

“Could it wait a minute?” Annie tries to reason.

Stern and steadfast, Zeke shakes his head. “No, now.”

Annie sighs, but nonetheless stands. She shoots Armin an apologetic look and he does the same. It’s strange to acknowledge that she’ll very much see him later today, yet to feel the slightest bit inconvenienced to have their little moment cut short. Frankly, seeing him for just a minute this morning had been something she had been looking forward to. How else could she make sense of the mess that was the Final? On her side of things, at least. 

But alas, Annie has been in this sport long enough to know better than to disobey her coach.

So she kisses Armin on the cheek and he returns the gesture.

“See you soon,” she tells him just as she turns around and begins approaching the door. She takes another sip of her mocha as she mentally submits to yet another day of practising jumps and cursing the name of Ulrich Salchow. 

Glancing forward, Annie sees her coach already looking impatient, noticing the way Zeke taps his finger incessantly against the door handle. As she walks she sees a figure appear in the hallway behind Zeke — only a few seconds pass before she comes to discover that it’s Erwin. 

Erwin makes it to the door before Annie does, turning his head and eyeing Zeke. They don’t exchange a single word, yet Annie is unable to ignore the presence of something in the air, a feeling that stems from the unbroken, unwavering gaze between the two coaches. The look in their eyes helps her realize that some rivalries just never die, whether it be on the ice or off. 

Erwin walks past Zeke, then past Annie as well. In contrast, he gives her a much more polite acknowledging nod before approaching Armin by the ice. 

As Annie follows Zeke out of the main rink, she hears Erwin speak to his pupil.

“Word of advice, Armin,” Erwin begins in a tone that’s just playful enough to sustain an air of levity between them. “No girlfriends at practice.” 

And as she leaves, Annie finds herself unable to completely wipe the smirk from her face. 

[doctorsiren]

It’s a mech suit canon

Paradox does sound very similar to Peridot

[wwnt-official]

What Was Never Told Offical Master Post

Preview: Unknown File

Statements: N/A

Cast (In alphabetical order): @andromeda-007 as Dot @aquafire2008 as Vio @eveyb09 as Red @shrublikeishhh as Blue @splashthebird as Shadow TheSilentArtist as Green

[henrysglock]

I just think…FS AU Henry with hockey player Hopper.

Canon-divergent TFS. They’re aged up to their 20s, and it’s set both in the Olympic village and in Hawkins depending on the time period. Modern/Y2K verse.

Henry and Patty newcomers/rising stars in pairs, Joyce and Alan as returning veterans to the pairs team. Sue Anderson and Karen Childress in women’s singles. Jim “Plays for the Chicago Blackhawks, selected for the Olympics” Hopper with the other guys in the cast as teammates.

Mr. Newby runs the rink in Hawkins, but the figure skaters train under Brenner, an internationally respected (if notoriously dirty-dealing and underhanded) coach. Hopper Sr. coaches the local varsity hockey team on the side when he’s not being a cop.

Thank you for your time ✌🏻😗

[cokoakeostuff]

First chapter 🫡 - Plot here

> Part 2

Yayaya, late update but Im so happy that i finally finished lol, next chapter might take a while because of college and commissions but im gonna be working on it, thanks everyone who has been waiting for this! Let’s imagine that wilds body has many scaaars, because im too lazy to draw them.

It’s my first time making comics so im gonna learn to do this better lol.

If you like my art and u can, consider supporting me on ko-fi!

[the-strangest-heart]

“ok but when she says she’s fine does she mean she’s fine or should i call her?”

“idk ive always j assumed shes fine. but like when he says he’s not mad does he mean he’s not mad or should i call him?”

[amanitacurses]

"Come with me?"

[rattonoid]

[indigos-stardust]

Four Keys: Buwe (Blue)

(reblogs appreciated)

This is Buwe! (pronounced similarly to Dew), he's this au's Blue! Buwe's people, Selkie Folk, live in different communities on arctic Islands that rely on fishing seasons to survive.

Unfortunately, a horrible sea ice witch threatened them. She threatened to freeze all the sea, the sea that gave them their fish and their life, unless they paid. With wealth or manpower. Their tribes are like brother and sisters.

Paying her, it would have debilitated them until there was nothing left. It would kill them. Going against the other tribes would kill their souls. It was a trap to let her get more power. With the walls of ice surrounding them, and air so frigid no messenger bird could be sent, there would be no help to free them.

Buwe decided, that if she wanted a warrior, he would give her one. One that would take the breath from her lungs as he strangled her. No sick child of his home, his tribe of Kunae, would die again, because of her. Coughing blood and becoming brittle.

He found a weak spot in her ice walls and after nights of hard work in secret, he left. Filled with rage, knowing he'd never survive making it to the other tribes, he decided to go straight to the mouth of the beast. Her little hideout, hidden in the ice, under the freezing water.

He's never seen a place so beautifully sculpted, yet so revolting. Patterns of swirling ice with windows to the wide ocean outside, columns fashioned with utmost care. Icy statues of figures posed beautifully appear along the walls. The bones of children as adornments. Red stained fabrics, draping down the entrances.

It's nothing like the castles he's learned about from books, its far too small and the design itself is far too close to home. But he knows that's just now, she wants to expand this. She wants more. She'll build it out of pearly white bones if she has to.

He catches her by surprise, while she's tinkering with some sort of map. Planning for the attacks she'll lead them in, when they all crack and serve her in their grief. When they let her take control of their very minds with a binding oath made of pure dark magic.

She's amused at first. She knew how great of a warrior, and determined a man he was. She reminds him of her offer. To be hers. Only the finest would be hers, after all. He's sick. This monster, the way she talks, the way she watches him. It's nothing but a freaking game.

"No? Pity, Kunae man, but I don't want to kill you ,you know... Such a wasteful thing, yes?"

He stands in silent fury. He's ready to fight, to end this.

"Fine then, you can be, another one of my... perfect sculptures. My favorite one, in fact. That way, you could stay by my side forever, hm?"

She steps to him, closer and closer. He will not be afraid.

"Even back then... So brash and brave, when I came, I just adore you..." her hand caresses his face, he's tense, " That's the face I want to keep for myself forever."

His dagger lurches into her gut, but not before a thin blast of ice blasts off forcing them apart. Buwe moves, the end is near. The end of suffering, or the end of any chance of hope. The end of her, or the end of him.

Buwe nearly dies in that fight. He was fighting, on her terf, already weakened, with his own ability already diminished from the hunger. But the rage fuels him on, and he knows he will End Her even if it only happens during his last dying breath.

She gives a final attack of defense, he got too close, his grand tactical mistake made out of desperation. Her eyes say the words he can't hear. It's the blessing of a curse. He can feel his legs freezing over, the ice in his bones spreading and paralyzing reaching itself tendrils outward. The sound of her cracking neck is nearly mute in the water, an endless abyss of the dark. It's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. The light leaves her eyes.

He tries, Buwe really does, to transform again into a selkie, to let him swim to the surface, and maybe reverse her curse just long enough to see his home again. Just the walls and the glistening shining snow, that the children would soon play on again. He manages to transform, but it's too late. Every thought slows, muffled and pained. He will be lost, but he won, for them. That's all that matters. The world is deafening, as he sees the blackening ocean turn icy white. The world is dark again.

@slaingelo @vamqiredove @shadylink enjoy lol, it gets worse probably

[luciluck2046-md]

DAMN, I FINISHED THE FIRST DESIGN FOR FLESH&SINS!!!!

It's just a sketch, BUT I'm gonna finish it on pc probably.

The HCs are pretty okay until now though.

Yes, my girl is half blind. Like HOW THE FUCK did she escape almost entirely fine after that explosion?

Also piercings because she's the embodiment of emo/alt/punk/scene.

Also yes, as I said, it's gonna be VUzi and not NUzi this time. Idk I just felt thirsty for some yuri

Didn't you make N trans in Glowing Future? Shut up it's not enough. I need a mentally deranged woman x an emotionally hurt woman not a therapist/mom friend x emotionally hurt woman.

Yeah Uzi's 17 and the rest of the Glavexs (that's how the species of what were Disassembly Drones is called) are like 19-20. DW I'M NOT DOING ANY UNDERAGE STUFF UZI'S GONNA BE 18 WHEN SHE GETS WITH VIXEN(V)

Anyway this is all you get before the first chapter of Sour Dreams & Sweet Nightmares. Not spoiling the HCs I have for the rest of the people, only for Uzi. I will share the designs for them when they're ready though! Currently working on V :3

(do not judge me, I haven't drawn proper humans in quite the while)

[sweetzsuprise]

I’ve managed to back my iPad onto a new one and now have access to all my old drawing again! so a celebratory sQuad