#immediate girl to girl energy of wanting to rush over with a good wig lipstick and nail polish princess let me help youuuu

[laniidae-passerine]

the most terrifying thing about I Saw The TV Glow was the knowledge that Owen/Isabel was denying her true self and it was slowly killing her every day of her life. the second most terrifying thing was how dry her lips were. babygirl I know you’re afraid of admitting you’re a woman but please! chapstick is not gendered! moisturise that mouth!!!

[artificialqueens]

cirque d'amour - chapter one (trixya) - cal

AN: *tw: mild drug references* hello, hi! this is my first fic & my first time posting to Ao3 & AQ! the story is hugely inspired by the greatest showman & my love of drama simultaneously. latrice owns a Big Gay Circus where katya features as a provocative/gymnastics dancer. (u r welcome) but what happens when a cute little stranger captures her interest?

i am on Ao3 as https://archiveofourown.org/users/moastar

*huuuuge thank you to my proof-reader & supporter, elliot! ;)*

It was a beautiful night in Los Angeles.

Katya was staring dreamily at the crescent moon, a cigarette lingering between her index and middle fingers. Every time she took a hit, she watched the vapour rise into the sky and evaporate amongst the stars. She closed her eyes and took a moment to really breathe - she fondly called this exercise her ‘pre-show chill’. She knew she was due to command the stage at any minute, but this ritual was sacred, and should not be rushed.

She was rudely disturbed by a loud crashing behind her, and a muffled curse. The rooftop door swung open, and revealed a heavily sweating man, in full, unapologetic drag. Katya turned on her heels, her eyebrow raised as she took in the scene. Roy - no, Bianca - was fumbling with her towering ginger wig at the same time as trying to tug her ridiculously long gown from where it was caught in the door. “Fuck!” she rasped, sounding much more like Roy right now than Bianca, Katya thought fondly.

“Oh, mama,” Katya grinned at her friend, noticing the vein in his head throbbing. “What a mess.”

“You!” Bianca swung an accusing claw at her. “Get in here now, you witchy bitch! You’re on any minute, and I couldn’t find you anywhere! And for fuck sake, will you help me with this - agh - friggin' GOWN?”

Katya’s face broke out into a grimace, and she slapped her knee with amusement. “Oh, Bee,” she flicked the end of her cigarette out into the dark abyss, and she took a moment to watch the ash fly slowly out of sight before trotting over to her damsel in distress.

Bianca’s face looked like it was about to explode - even through the pounds of carefully applied make-up, Katya could make out the creeping redness. “Come here,” she wheezed, amusement lacing her words, before tugging lightly on the folds of Bianca’s dress. The trail released easily, and Bianca glared at Katya, who smiled sweetly back at her.

Bianca’s face softened, and she sighed. “Okay, queen,” a tiny smile played on her lips. “I’ve done my number and I’m about ready to get fucked up. It’s your turn. Now get out there, your public awaits.”

*

The crowd was positively buzzing with raw energy.

Katya lingered side-stage, scoping out her audience with interest. She immediately picked out the regular offenders - Raja, Courtney and Jay - and a grin bloomed on Katya’s face. She adored her dysfunctional little family, and it warmed her little gay heart how frequently they came to see the Cirque just to support her.

Katya was embezzled in sequins tonight - giving a dripping in jewels fantasy - and had chosen a very sexy black heel. She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder, knowing she looked good.

Her moment of shameless self-love was broken by an announcement from Latrice - I mean, with that beautiful, booming voice, how could it not be? - now striding centre-stage. “Ladies and gentle-MEN!” the last syllable was little less than a yell. “I am pleased to announce our next act of the evening, here at the fabulous Cirque.”

Katya can’t help but feel a fondness in her bones for the ringmaster - he was nothing less than fabulous himself. He towered above most common folk, was anything but slim, and was louder than a foghorn. That being said, he was the kindest soul Katya had ever had the pleasure to meet.

“She’s bendy, she’s wiry, she’s sexy as hell, bitch,” Latrice waggled his eyebrows and the crowd went wild, spurring him on with their energy. From the sidelines, Katya held her breath.

“It’s -

YEKATERINA

PETROVNA

ZAMO-LOD-CHIK-O-VA!”

Latrice shuffled excitedly off-stage, and the lights dimmed. The crowd were cheering deafeningly now, and Katya swore she could hear Courtney’s screaming above them all.

Lana Del Rey’s “Million Dollar Man” started to play, weaving a spell on the eagerly awaiting crowd. Katya herself became tangled up in the spell, and she gracefully stepped out to meet the booming applause.

She turned to gaze at the many pairs of eyes all trained on her, and she gave a flirtatious smile before biting down on her finger. The reaction of the people at her feet gave her a thrill - she can do the simplest of things, and have them all begging her for more. She threw her arms out gracefully, pulling her hands back to caress her body and lose herself in the song. Her hands ran from her breasts to her torso - slowly, teasingly - and down to her hips. She then licked a finger suggestively, and ran her hand over her crotch, raising her eyebrows at her captivated crowd. She glided closer to the edge of the stage, taking exaggerated steps to show off her boots. She bent her knees and pushed her whole body backwards, so all the people could see was her legs. There was a collective gasp at that, and Katya smiled, before shuffling like a graceful crab to the side so that all could see her body bent impressively in a 'n’ shape. She rose to a stand and glided back to the centre.

Katya leaned against a pole that was placed centre-stage, and dropped slowly to the floor, her legs splaying in the most impressive split. Wolf whistles and screaming filled the air, and Katya grinned at her audience. It was at that moment that her eyes caught sight of someone she’d never seen before - her face illuminated by the dancing lights.

She was petite and reminded Katya instantly of a Barbie-doll. She looked sickeningly innocent and sweet, as if she would taste of honey. She was gazing at Katya with wonder, much like the other faces in the crowd, but Katya sensed something different about her - something almost fairy-like. Katya herself became captivated, and she almost - not quite, but almost - forgot to finish her number. Tearing her eyes away from the adorable stranger, Katya shot a wink in the direction of her friends, who were jumping up and down amongst the madness.

She dropped slowly to the floor, spreading her body provocatively against the wooden stage, and accepted the abundant offering of tips from those closest to her - boy and girl alike.

The song came to an end and Katya rose to stand, and bow, against the thunderous applause. Latrice skittered across the stage to stand at Katya’s side, beads of sweat glistening across his forehead.

“Now that,” Latrice boomed into his mic, clasping a strong hand on Katya’s back. “Was enough to turn me straight. HA-HA! No, of course I’m kidding. GIVE IT UP FOR OUR OWN MISS ZAMO-LOD-CHIK-O-VA!”

Katya smiled into the second round of cheers, casting a darting eye into the crowd to find the sweet stranger, only to be mildly disappointed at the realisation that she was gone.

*

“Zamo, you just get better every time.”

Courtney was leaning against the bar, tapping her acrylic nails against the wood as she impatiently awaited her drinks.

Katya smiled at her. “Thanks, mama.”

Courtney eventually handed Katya a cocktail, complete with a tiny umbrella. Katya cocked a questioning eyebrow at her for a heartbeat, before Courtney hissed; “It’s a virgin, girl.”

Katya pursed her lips around the straw, being careful not to smudge her lipstick. “Where’s Jay and Raja?” She mumbled through tentative sips. Courtney tossed her perfect blonde hair over her shoulder with a mildly bored expression.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed dramatically, waving a perfectly manicured hand in a vague direction. “I think they went for a smoke.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Katya grinned, well aware of Courtney’s disdain for the smoker’s break. Courtney’s lip twitched before she mirrored Katya’s smile. “Girl, you deserve it,” She slapped an encouraging hand on Katya’s arm. “You go ahead. I want to watch Violet.”

Violet certainly was one to watch - an aerial artist, who never failed to snatch a few wigs, and a perfect final act of the cirque.

Katya fought through the heaving crowd to the cool evening air outside. She spotted Jay immediately - how could she not, they were wearing all baby pink with glittery platform shoes, complete with a cap that spelled out “werk” in cheap gem stones - talking rapidly with the quietly towering Raja beneath a palm tree. As Katya made her way over to them, flipping a cigarette out from the stash in her bra, she thought (and not for the first time) what a strange couple they made.

“And so I says to him…oh, AYO! SIS!” Jay spun around immediately when they noticed Katya drifting towards them.

Katya saluted at Jay and couldn’t help but notice a scattering of dust beneath his nostrils. Jay threw their arms around Katya and trapped her in a vice-like grip. Katya wound her hand around Jay’s back to pat them gently, glancing at Raja. Raja’s dark, hooded eyes regarded her for a moment, before giving her a little shrug.

“Hey, you were great, as always,” Raja murmured - their voice always sounded like black silk, and Katya loved it. “Jay here was getting their life.”

But Jay wasn’t paying attention - their perfectly shaped eyebrow was raised in questioning, looking past Katya’s shoulder. Katya turned to follow their gaze, and she was surprised to find the sugar plum fairy from the audience - the one who had momentarily captivated her.

“Hey,” she smiled sweetly, her cheeks blooming red with - what? Embarrassment? Warmth? Alcohol? Katya laughed nervously, regretting her actions immediately. “I-uh, sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear,” Katya’s words came out in a messy tumble, and she was acutely aware that her friends were watching this exchange with barely muted interest.

The girl in front of her looked somewhat taken aback, but she continued none-the-less. “I just wanted to say I really loved your performance. I mean, you probably get this a lot, but your dancing is pretty compelling.”

Katya snorted. “Yeah, it usually compels people to leave the room.”

The girl’s face broke out with glee, and a loud laugh-scream hybrid escaped her lips. Katya felt a buzz from this reaction, and she started to laugh herself, broken by wheezing.

“I’m Trixie,” the girl said, wiping a tear from her eye. Katya took a moment to examine her face - her make-up was a lot, her winged eyeliner creeping across her face and her contour cutting sharp lines into her cheeks. Katya liked it, she realised, and re-visited the idea that this girl could quite literally be a Barbie, complete with all the pink and blonde curls.

“Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova,” Katya grinned, offering Trixie her hand. “But you can call me Katya.”

Trixie took Katya’s hand with amusement - Katya noticed how clammy her hand must’ve felt in Trixie’s cool, soft one - before the air was broken by a loud caterwauling, not dissimilar to a cat. Trixie turned on her cowboy boots to greet the person responsible for the din.

“Babe,” a girl appeared behind her, fashioning an all-denim body suit that glittered in the yellow light of the streetlamps. “Where were you?”

Katya regarded the new addition to the scene with a stiff lip - she was stunning. Her eyes were painted with glittering blue eye shadow to match her outfit, and her perfect blonde hair was streaked with every colour of the rainbow. “Sorry girl,” Trixie grinned at her, a clear note of admiration in her voice. Katya felt an unexpected stab of jealousy. “I was talking to the star of the show.” The other girl noticed Katya for the first time - she was chewing gum incessantly, and Katya was reminded just how much she hated that.

“Oh, hey,” the girl muttered, sounding bored.

“This is my girlfriend, Willam,” Trixie snaked her arm around the smaller girl, but Willam ducked out of her hug and grasped Trixie’s wrist. “Come on, babe, Violet is due on any minute, and she is fierce!”

Trixie shrugged apologetically at Katya, allowing herself to be lead back to the heat of the club. Katya watched her go, her face pinched sourly. Jay appeared at her side. “You look pissed,” they chortled, slapping Katya playfully on her arm. “Better look next time, sis. You know you can have anyone you want.”

Yes. Katya did know that. The thing is, she didn’t usually want anyone. Not for more than a moment of heat in the club’s bathroom, or gracing a stranger’s bed for a night. But Trixie - Trixie had captivated her interest from the moment she saw her, and Katya was not ready for that. Oh, not at all.

[ivarslittlelamb-blog]

Bloodbath [Hunger Games!Ivar x Reader]

Notes: So, this is about a year or two before the 74th Hunger Games, that’s why Cato’s mentioned. This is in the reader’s POV. Enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing, slightly suggestive???, somewhat sweet!Ivar, murders, blood, graphic death of...er, you’ll find out.

Tags: @tiyetiye @pagan-raider @float-autumn-leave @ivars-pet @taintedlittlesweetpea @mochaelfatbender I didn’t know who all wanted tagged so I just tagged whoever said they wanted the imagine. Here it is, loves!! (Tiye, dear, it won’t let me tag you for some reason again?? Tumblr has been pissing me off lately)

The grimaces of the herd of children practically radiate sadness. Parents watch in horror as they await their child’s name being called out by the overly bubbly woman from the Capitol. 

Her lips contort into an grin despite the fact that she will be pulling out death sentences from a glass bowl. The woman’s high heels clink against the stage and her wig bounces as she walks. 

I glance over at the boys, searching for Cato and Ivar. They don’t look nervous or scared, but excited. How the hell could they be excited? The two give me a malicious grin before snapping their attention back at Effie Trinket. 

“Ladies first!” She calls out in her bubbly, annoying voice. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to drown out the sound of the name being called. It is nothing but a muffled mess to my ears. “Come on, dear! Y/N L/N! Where are you?” 

Realization rushes over my body and I slowly step up on the stage. I secretly wanted this. Clove opens her mouth to volunteer and I immediately shoot a look that could kill at her. 

Effie gives me a smile before stepping over to the boys’ bowl. “And now the boys,” she announces. “Ivar Ragnarsson!” 

Ivar’s grin turns up into a wicked smile as he struts up the stage on his crutches. He looks at me and stretches out one of his hands, grasping mine within it. “Good luck, L/N.” 

“You too,” I whisper faintly. “You too.” 

Effie beams at the crowd before opening her lipstick painted mouth once more. “There, we have our tributes from District Two!” 

The Peacekeepers immediately usher us onto the train, not bothering to let us say goodbye to our families. Nobody says goodbye. Our District was likely to win. Again.

I curl up in one of the leather chairs in our train car. Ivar sits across from me, biting his index finger as he studies my face. I return his gaze as my nails scratch up the leather like an animal.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes mockingly before sighing. “You like to think you’re all big and bad, don’t you?” Ivar mutters, his gaze becoming darker with every waking second. 

My teeth seem to grind on their own and I want to strangle him with my bare hands. I can’t, it’d be unwise to do so before the Games. The Capitol would torture me. Or worse.

Ivar gets up, not bothering to use his crutches and crawls on the ground like a snake. I don’t tear my eyes away from him, but I keep my gaze locked on him out of curiosity.

“What’s a matter, little fox?” Ivar taunts, pulling himself up to where his face is level with mine. “Are you...scared?” 

“Shut up.” I snap, attempting to keep my trembling body as still as I could. “Just shut up.”

Ivar laughs and grabs my face, pulling me down onto the floor on top of him. I squeal and attempt to get away from him, but some odd part of me wants to stay. 

He smirks, his fingers trailing down my sides until they reach the flesh of my arse. I swat his hand away and take myself off of him. “What the fuck, Ivar?!” I hiss, balling my hands into fists as he pulls himself up on his chair. 

“What are you gonna do, little fox? Hit me?” Ivar teases, raking one of his hands through his dark, half-shaved mane. 

“Stop it.” I beg through gritted teeth. His blue orbs trail over my body and immediately I feel a slick

“Stop what? Telling you the Goddamn truth?” 

I turn on my heels and escort myself into my room. My anger gets the best of me and I slam the door shut. I can hear Ivar chuckling in the main part of the train car. The clunking of his wooden crutches against the floor fills my ears as he attempts to twist the now-locked door knob.

“Ha, smart.” Ivar mumbles, although it is audible enough for me to understand. 

“Go away, cuntcake.” 

At least he has the decency to go away, or at least I think he does. The shuffling of clothes sliding against the door and the crashing of his crutches compels me enough to open the door. 

“Are you okay?” I ask, slowly opening the door. Ivar looks up at me and smiles, bobbing his head in response. I pull the door open quickly and the crippled boy falls back to the floor with a great deal of surprise. “Erm...are you okay now?”

“Just help me up.” Ivar growls, reaching one of his hands up to me. I pull him up and set him on the bed. 

As soon as I do, Effie Trinket peeks her head in the doorway and grins. “We’re here!” She calls in a sing-songy voice before treading through the rest of the train cars.

Ivar looks at me and mocks her in a high-pitched tone. I can’t help but giggle at his stupidity.

The Capitol is magnificent, dare I say. I’ve never seen buildings like this. Not even the Justice Building was like them. Majestic mountains surround the Capitol and inside them, beautiful and articulate skyscrapers lie. 

We stare out the window for what seems like hours. Ivar even seems captivated by the beauty of the city, but he plays it off like he doesn’t seem to care.

The two weeks of training and interviews seem to pass by too quickly. As we are being loaded into the tubes into the Arena, realization of what is happen rushes over me and I start to panic. 

My stylist, Jasper, only watches as I attempt to break out of the tube after the door is closed. “Help me! Get me out of here!” I shriek, but it is too late. I’m being pulled up until I am standing in the Arena.

The Arena is basically nothing but rocks, sand and very few trees. I spot Ivar directly across from me, clenching his crutches in his hands as he gets ready to bolt to the Cornucopia. 

The gong rings and tributes run in every direction. Some run for the trees, others the Cornucopia. I froze, my eyes searching for my partner and enemy. 

Ivar is busy knocking some of the tributes out with his crutches until he manages to find throwing knives and it’s bye-bye District 5′s male tribute. 

He looks at me with his psychotic, blood dripping down his face as he licks the metallic liquid off his lips. I stare at him in horror and feel my legs pulling me towards him. 

District 1′s tributes and District 4′s tributes are all at the Cornucopia as Ivar and I make our way. They stare at us before motioning us over. 

The girl from District 1 introduces herself first. “I’m Dawn and this is Coil,” she gestures to the boy from her own district, “and this is Aqua and Thunder.” Dawn points at the tributes from District 4. 

“I’m--” 

“We know who you both are,” Aqua pipes up. “Now are we gonna hunt the others down or not?” 

Ivar smiles insanely before making a growling sound in his throat. “May the odds be ever in your favor!” He chuckles as he mocks Effie. 

The rest of the tributes break out into a fit of laughter before we go on our hunt. 

Within a few hours, we killed both tributes from 5, the boy from 7 and a girl from 12. Everybody else is quite proud of themselves and I can’t help but think that their parents are watching in horror as their children are being ruthlessly murdered by other children.

By us. 

Seemingly enough, a few days pass and we only kill a couple tributes. By now we’re down to about 12, including us. I desperately want one of them to kill me, just so I wouldn’t have to have Ivar kill me in the end.

God must have damned us all (more than we already are) because now it is just me and Ivar as well as Thunder and Coil. I silently plead that one of them kill me before Ivar can. 

But my prayers aren’t answered. 

Ivar is in front of me, the two boy tributes now laying on the ground as they take their last breathes. I back away until I’m being pressed against the Cornucopia by Ivar’s body. 

“Just get it over with, Ivar.” I grunt, closing my eyes as his lips are dangerously close to mine.

“I can’t.” He breathes as he captures my lips within his, his hands roaming over my body. Ivar’s grip on his knife goes lip and it falls to the ground with a loud clatter. 

He pulls away and I find myself wanting more. “Why can’t you?!” I scream, my eyes swelling with hot tears just on the brink of being spilled out onto my cheeks.

“Because...” Ivar trails off, his voice lowering into a whisper as he does so. He leans in close to my ear, his breath hot on my skin. “Because you’re almost too pretty to kill.” 

Just then, Ivar locks his lips on me once more before thrusting his knife into my stomach. Everything suddenly becomes blurry and I know it’s coming to an end. He lowers me onto the ground with him, laying my head in his lap. 

“I’m sorry, but I promised them, I promised my Mother I would come home. I couldn’t do that to her.” He whimpers, pushing back stray, Y/H/C hairs from my face. “I’m sorry.” 

I sputter up blood and Ivar’s hand immediately comes down and wipes it away from my face. He leans down, pecking my lips before everything becomes blurry and Ivar is nothing but a hazy image. He goes to pull himself away, but I muster enough energy to grab his wrist.

“Please, don’t go.” I whisper, coughing up more blood. “Stay with me.” 

He nods his head before leaning back against the Cornucopia as he tells me stories of his older brothers and his father and mother. My vision blurs in and out as I try to remember his handsome face. 

“You are so beautiful.” He mutters, cradling my head in his arms as my breathing becomes shallow and quick. I reach up and stroke his cheek as tears fall from my eyes involuntarily. 

“Tell my family I love them, Ivar.” I draw in a shaky breath. “I...I...” It is slowly becoming harder for me to breathe and the amount of blood I am coughing up only grows. He searches my face for some emotion, but my body is too weak to show anything but pain. 

I take in my last breath and my eyes flutter to a close. 

Goodbye, my Prince. Goodbye, Ivar.

“Don’t you worry, Princess. I love you too.”