#so the end of 12 would actually be the end of the whole fight

[nomoredying]

you will never know

hunger games au! tribute!sevika x tribute!reader

tags: reader is from district 10, sevika is from district 12, canon-typical violence, angst a/n: i blame suzanne collins. english is not my first language — please correct me if you find any mistakes, ty. writing this was a torture never doing anything like that again :/

you don’t know what a person actually feels when they’re burning alive. not until the flame reaches you and you jump back in escape but it’s too late. you got hurt and now you’re going to burn too. just like them who you watched from afar.

that’s how you would describe being chosen for the hunger games, held by almighty capitol. or how you like to call it in your district — the topside. 

seventeen years you watched the mandatory-to-watch broadcast of the games, where innocent children were killing each other or getting killed. and then how the victor was celebrated by the whole country. by the topsiders especially. 

but no child can comprehend the possibility of being chosen to get murdered on the screens of thousands of people just for entertainment’s sake. and a reminder, of course. you can’t overcome the capitol.

despite the nudging voice that tells you this isn’t real and if it is you should flee, you act brave. say all your goodbyes to your parents, your older brother who you know hated himself for inability to volunteer because of his age and to all of your friends. you hope they will actually miss you. 

you listen to your mentor leelan who’s a middle aged woman with clever, but beaten look in her eyes and almost dozen ideas for you to win although she knows that you’ll probably die like all the others. you respect her determination. you even laugh at whatever nonsense your escort and the prep team says. 

“is there anything you’d like to say to your family, watching this right now?” the host, a man wearing ridiculously bright glasses and blazers asks.

“put the kettle on, i’ll be home in a blink of an eye,” you blink at the camera. “and don’t eat all the cookies, achilles. you think you’re watching me, but i have eyes everywhere,” you narrow your eyes now and hear the immediate laugh from the audience.

“oh, siblings,” the host chuckles, shaking his head.

you’re almost a perfect tribute, it seems to be. appearing to the people as charming, but dangerous and sharp, you win over many hearts soon enough. didn’t even have to be a career. no one except your team knows that you clench your fists until your nails sink into your palms enough to draw blood. no one except an avox, a girl who crossed capitol so they cut her tongue, who came into your room in the middle of a night because you started hitting a wall during your panic attack.

if it wasn’t for that, leelan could almost let herself believe in your win. 

you’re excellent with blades and axes, probably won’t have much trouble with finding food and even can make a trap. all the things you’ve learned thanks to your district which specialises in livestock you even score a 10 — 10 for district 10, as someone from your team said.

but if you act like you’re on the brink of a mental breakdown as soon as you’re out of cameras’ reach, how will you act in arena full of poisonous and deadly forces you have to fight against? the boy from your district is in even worse state. he’s a lost cause. 

you don’t interact with others much at the tribute center, trying to learn as many skills as possible, even though it’d be nice to have some allies. temporary allies, you remind yourself.

however one girl does catch your attention. she’s tall, dark skinned, her already short dark hair put up and you can see the well-developed muscles in her bare arms. you’re pretty sure it doesn’t end with just the arms. which surprises you because even if you’re the ones growing the cattle and preparing meat in your district, you don’t really get to have much. one would have thought district 12 can’t have it better. 

her name is sevika and she’s 18. how devastated must have been her family  — getting reaped her last year. you’re not so juvenile yourself too, only a year younger than her. 

she’ll definitely be fine on her own, you think, watching her tying knots. you approach her, starting to do the same and thinking of all the ways you could start talking to her. but before you finally open your mouth to say something, she leaves to another section. not today, then.

and not all the other following days too.

sure, you did talk to some other tributes. a girl named mary from 5, kind and quiet. twins from 11, who made you laugh so hard you had to physically stop yourself because you remembered that you’re being watch and a hysterical laugh isn’t really complimenting. but still not to her and now it’s the day the games start.

all this time it’s like you’ve been asleep. now you wake up from the cold before the horn even sounds.the ground is damp and metallic under your back, and for a second you don’t know where you are. it could be a slaughterhouse. maybe it is. it smells like one.

the sky above you is orange, like rust bleeding into sunset. you’re standing in the center of what used to be a processing plant. abandoned, decayed. smoke still rises from some of the towers. steam hisses through broken vents. the ground is cracked cement, sliced with rails, stains and patches that could be oil or blood. doesn’t really matter which.

this is the arena.

you try not to throw up.

they placed you all around a giant broken platform, like a rusted gear in the middle of some long-dead machine.

in its center is the stock — weapons, food, water, gear, traps, maybe even medicine. you can see the outline of a crossbow, a few blades. there’s a black bag. some kind of armor. a bottle glinting under the lights. a lot of seems like a trap, cursed by the gamemakers.

around you, at the edges of the gear — other tributes stand on their plates. all waiting.

and there’s sevika, four tributes away. she’s not looking at anyone. not even the stock. her eyes are low. arms loose by her sides. like she’s waiting for the whole thing to be over.

she doesn’t look scared. just done.

you wish you felt the same.

you breathe in. you don’t have much time. you know what leelan told you: “don’t go to the middle. don’t be a fool.” but leelan’s not here and you don’t think you’ll find an axe lying around somewhere in the arena.

you run before you even realize that you’re running. fast and low. like cutting through a herd without startling them. tributes are screaming already. one falls on the platform. another lunges for a bottle, only to get their throat sliced open. blood sprays across a shattered crate.

you don’t look. you grab the small axe, half-buried under a sheet of plastic. it’s heavy but familiar. your fingers close around the handle like it’s home. 

you run again — toward the shadows — and hope for the best. toward the smoke and dust and wreckage beyond the gear. you hide in a collapsed control tower on the outskirts of the plant. its roof is gone, but walls still stand, crooked and blistered by heat. the floor is full of ash. you lie down in it.

your hands are shaking. the axe is next to you, warm from your grip. you think of how are you even supposed to find food or water in a huge dead industrial complex. 

you get out of your cover and find that around your collapsed towers are another ash towers. you try to find the highest point and when you do, you finally look around. you think you can see a slaughterblock not that far from you. that’s where you should head next.

you only let yourself to sit, just to wait out whatever’s happening in the gear. you hear the canon and count seven deaths already. seventeen of you left. 

that’s when you see your mentor before you. “leelan?” your eyebrows furrow in disbelief “what are you– how are you here?” your hand tries to reach the woman, but suddenly it weighs more than any axe you held in your life so you can’t even lift your arms.

the mentor says something to you and you nod, but something feels wrong..

“are you okay?” your brother asks. 

“are you here too? i don’t get it,” you mumble and that’s when you notice the blue gas you’re breathing all around you. 

you’re hallucinating. you close your eyes, still hearing their voices. not the worse way to spend you first night, is it? your stomach disagrees.

your eyes open wide just a moment before they start showing the dead tributes in the sky. both from 6, 8, 9 and a boy from 12.

at the early morning the gas disappears, and that’s when you leave the tower and head to your new destination.

the slaughterblock smells worse than anything you’ve ever smelled before. it clings to the walls, seeps from the floor. old blood, rot, bile — all of it baked into the steel and concrete. the heat makes it worse, like someone turned the whole place into a slow cooker for ghosts.

you try to breathe through your mouth, but that just makes you taste it.

the room stretches into darkness, full of rusted hooks hanging from chains, swinging slightly in the stale air. gutting tables still sit in rows, some flipped over, others stained black. broken knives, meat saws, bones — so many bones.

your boots click once on the slick floor, and you freeze. you didn’t mean to make a sound. but it’s not just you. you hear it — screaming. no, not quite human. a pig. and it’s not dying quickly.

you follow the sound, stepping slow. between metal slabs and dripping pipes. the ceiling above you groans. you peek through the gap between two cabinets.

they’re there — two tributes from district 7.

you recognize them. the girl with the long scar down her chin. the boy with unrealistically crooked teeth. they’re butchering a pig they must’ve found somewhere deeper in the block. it’s alive. was alive. they’re laughing.

you grip your axe tighter, but you don’t have a plan yet. until your foot knocks into an empty metal bucket. it clatters like a gunshot. they freeze. 

the girl turns first. “who’s there?”

you don’t answer, why would you? but she sees you anyway and lunges.

your axe meets her before your brain even catches up. the impact jolts up your arm — you feel bone snap, skin tear, the wet thud of meat. she hits the floor, twitching once. doesn’t get back up. you hear the canon.

you don’t stop. you can’t.

the boy’s next. faster than she was, not even stopping to look at his dead ally. he’s yelling something, but it doesn’t matter. you swing — he dodges. he slashes with a blade and slices your arm. again — your thigh. you gasp and stumble. he grabs your collar, grinning. 

you grab his face. the two of you struggle — crash backward — into an old meat grinder.

it groans under the weight.

your fingers find a button. you kick him and press it as quickly as possible and then..

you watch.

the room is quiet again. except for your breath. and the flies. you stare at what’s left. then at your shaking hands.

“disgusting,” you whisper at yourself and hope that this might be to the sponsors’ liking. a terrible thought, but so isn’t everything?

you tear a piece of fabric from the dead girl’s shirt. wrap your bleeding arm. then your thigh. it’s not pretty, but it’ll do.

you take their bag which they must have taken from the stock. inside: bandages, antiseptic. painkillers, some kind of sunglasses. 

the pig they were butchering is half-dead.

but you know what to do with that. you know where to cut. what to keep. what not to touch. it takes you twenty minutes to break it down. maybe less. your axe is sticky. your hands — slick.

you cook a few pieces over a pipe that still leaks fire. it’s dry, but warm. then you pack the rest in cloth, shove it in the new bag. and you leave. 

you walk deeper into the structure, the walls closer now, darker. you’re so thirsty it makes your head pulse. no water at all. but it has to be somewhere, right? instead, you find a room in the back. some kind of office, long since emptied. the desk is broken. the windows cracked. but there’s a corner. dry and covered in dust. you sit there. you unwrap your arm. it’s bleeding again. you clean and bandage it, as best as someone who who has very basic knowledge of healing can do. 

thirteen of you left.

you stay there for few nights, eating your pig, until the thirst becomes unbearable and water fills all your thoughts. not you, unfortunately.

you’re going to die of thirst before anyone gets the pleasure of killing you. that’s the thought that’s been gnawing at your spine for the past two hours you’ve been walking. the meat from the slaughterblock is still warm in your bag, your wounds are holding. but your lips are cracked. your head swims. everything is too loud.

that’s when you see it. the pit.

it’s not really a lake. not even a pond. it’s an open crater so wide you can’t see the other side through the smoke. the ground falls away in uneven steps of clay and metal and bone, and at the very bottom, there’s water — sort of.

it gleams in the toxic light, thick with rainbow shimmer, like someone spilled oil across a graveyard. you know that smell. sharp. chemical. like bleach, rot, ammonia.

and the bones. some old, some not.

you swallow hard. you need water, so you find a path — half-collapsed service scaffolding, mostly rust and wire. it takes almost twenty minutes to get down safely. you slip twice. once nearly fall. but your grip holds.

the deeper you go, the hotter it gets. the air sticks to your lungs.

you step through the bottom of the pit like moving through glue. you hold your breath when the fumes spike. the water’s close. but you’re careful. you know better.

and then you see her. 

sevika.

standing by the edge of the chemical pool like it’s a mirror. her back to you. muscles tense. blade slung low, but not drawn. she crouches and pulls a bottle from her belt. dips it low toward the surface—

“it’s poisoned,” you call out, louder than you meant to.

she straightens. turns. her eyes find you — sharp, wary. in less than a five seconds she’s ready to attack.

but the air shifts and that’s when you know something’s coming. you feel it first — the way your teeth hum. then the tremor beneath your feet. then the shriek.

a shape erupts from the other side of the pool, tearing through bones and rock like they’re paper. a mutt. at least eight feet tall. boar-like, but deformed, furless, parts of its flesh replaced with glowing panels. its eyes flicker red. its tusks drip acid. it charges.

you draw your axe.

“allies?” you shout.

sevika nods once. “just don’t get in my way.”

the beast hits like a train. you dive left — sevika goes right. you slash its leg and sparks fly, it screeches and backhands you into the dirt. sevika climbs its back, driving her blade between its shoulder plates. it throws her off.

you roll. blood in your mouth. the mutt lunges at sevika — she dodges — you bring your axe down on its exposed jaw. it turns on you. 

you think: this is it.

then sevika rams her knife straight into its eye socket. you don’t waste the opening and drive your axe into its throat, both hands, full weight. it collapses.

you both stand there for a second, chests heaving.

“that thing better not come back,” you mutter and slump onto a rock, your whole body’s shaking. sevika wipes blood from her face and walks back toward the water.

“you were serious about the poison thing?” she asks, finally.

“yeah. the fumes alone almost knocked me out.” 

“so what now?”

you look at her. “we filter it.”

she raises an eyebrow, sceptical. “you know how to do that?”

you nod. “i think so. we used to filter rotwater at home. for the pigs. same principle, right?”

“you filtered water for pigs.” sevika snorts.

“and for us, sometimes.” you stand. “you need: cloth, rocks, sand. charcoal. some kind of container.”

“charcoal?” she raised an eyebrow. 

“burnt cloth’ll do.”

“you’re full of surprises, 10,”

“shop kid,” you grin. “axes, knives, smoke filters. we sold them all.”

you spend the next hour gathering parts.

you build the filter from a broken pipe, with layers of sand, gravel, burnt scraps, and a ventilation mesh sevika pulled from an old cooling unit.

you watch the first drops trickle through into a cracked bowl. you both stare at it in silence.

“first sip’s yours,” sevika mutters.

you smile. “scared?”

“you built it,”

well, can’t argue with that. when you drink, it tastes like ash. definitely not that fancy water that comes in all flavours (you didn’t even know water could be flavoured before), but not deadly too. you don’t have any signs of being poisoned, so sevika takes a sip too. and then another. and other.

“so what does your family do?” you ask out of curiosity and because you don’t like silences.

something in her expression flickers.

“my mother was a medic. my dad’s got a hardware stall,” sevika replies shortly, and you decide not to push. why would you want to know all about her family if later? to face that very family after you kill her or someone else does?

“i was hoping we’d at least get a beautiful arena,” you sigh playfully, after getting a look around 

she grins. “yeah? so you could at least die somewhere beautiful?”

“something like that,” you roll your eyes. 

after filling your bowls and bottles with water you get out of the pit, thinking where you should head next. 

“wait,” you say and perform a shushing gesture to silence her. something’s wrong. as if the ground is shaking. “do you feel it? it’s like an earthquake—“ and the surface under your feet collapses right at that moment, sevika’s strong hand preventing you from falling, but the ground she’s standing on also starts shaking.

so you run with ground sunk down behind you.

“hey-hey!” you hear two familiar voices, male and female, from both of your sides. twins from 11. “we were thinking of going into the pit when we saw you two running. what’s happening?”

“game makers are expanding the territory of the pit,” you reply, smiling at them and glance at sevika. oh, she doesn’t trust them.

“can we join you?” they ask.

their bags catch your attention. must’ve gotten them from the stock. they’re quick, clever, funny and you like them. so before sevika says no, you say yes and she glared at you.

“great! follow us, we found something like control rooms,”

“control rooms?” you repeat, curious.

and you still feel her piercing gaze.

“they’re smart!” you whisper at her and she rolls her eyes.

the control core is deeper than you expected.

you follow the twins through a narrow hallway half-collapsed with rusted panels and ash. above your heads, wires dangle like vines. it smells like electricity, dust, and something else — old blood maybe. the deeper you go, the colder it gets.

the twins are chatty. you like that about them. it makes you feel, for a moment, like this isn’t real.

when you finally reach the room, it’s massive. high ceiling, metal walls, rows of broken monitors and blinking consoles. the control core must’ve once powered something big. the lights flicker on and off. it hums, almost alive.

you all sit in a circle. the twins pull food from their bags — sealed packets, dried fruit, bread. you offer them water in exchange. the deal is silent, natural. survival. 

they talk about the games, previous ones, things they saw from the sidelines. the girl twin says she thinks the mutts are more unpredictable this year. the boy twin jokes he’s waiting for the flying leeches. you all laugh. even sevika smirks.

then you go deeper.

you slip on the glasses you found in district 7 boy’s bag, that are apparently made for the night vision. so do the twins. sevika takes the flashlight, checks its battery with a tap of her palm. works.

you move in a line. twin-boy in front, then his sister, then you, sevika watching the rear.

the corridors tighten. the temperature drops again. dust floats in the air like snow. pipes run along the ceiling. you check every side door. most are sealed. some open to reveal broken desks, shattered bulbs, spilled tools. in one room you find an old firebox and a control panel half-lit. in another — something you think is a ventilation map. sevika studies it while chewing dried fruit like it’s jerky.

then you see the first snake. it slithers from behind a console. only about the length of your arm. quick. sharp scales. sevika steps forward and crushes its head with the heel of her boot.

you look at the twins. they look at each other.

“weird,” you say. what would a snake be doing in here?

more steps. more snakes. you find another. and another. before you say you should head back, it happens.

the metal grates beneath your feet rattle. you freeze. a low sound starts building, like whispering steam.

and then — a wave. a swarm of snakes floods the corridor from every direction. tiny ones, red-eyed, fast. not natural.

they’re coming.

“run,” someone screams.

you scatter. the hallways twist and split and you take turns blindly, dodging through narrow gaps and hopping over pipes. the air is full of hissing. you swing yat anything too close.

the boy twin stumbles. a snake latches onto his leg. he goes down. his sister screams. no — she runs back, tries to pull him up.

more snakes pile on him.

you stop running. your body wants to go back. but sevika grabs your wrist. 

“not now,” she growls.

you turn and the last thing you see is the girl dropping to her knees and swinging wildly with a blade as they swarm them both.

you don’t look again and you keep running. when you finally stop, your lungs burn. your skin is marked with shallow cuts and dried blood. the snakes aren’t following anymore. you collapse against a wall. sevika crouches near you, breath sharp.

“they’re gone,” you whisper.

she nods.

“we should’ve taken their bags,” sevika says.

you look at her and she sighs.

“don’t give me that look. it’s awful. but it’s the games. you survive or you die. nothing in between,”

you say nothing because you know she’s right.  and that’s worse.

you find a hidden crawlspace near the end of the control core. small enough to feel safe. you both squeeze in. you rest in shifts, but neither of you actually sleeps. you sit back-to-back, watching the same crack in the wall. 

at some point, sevika says, “they reminded me of someone. the twins,”

you don’t answer.

she continues anyway. “when i was little, there was this pair in our street. always stealing apples. always climbing shit. i think about them sometimes,”

you shift, “i have a brother,” you say, “older. wanted to volunteer for me. couldn’t. he watched the reaping with his fists clenched”

“did he say goodbye?”

you nod, “told me to break their rules. and their teeth,”

sevika chuckles. a quiet, worn-out sound. “maybe you will,”

“maybe we both will, you say,”

and for the first time since the games started, you think maybe you’re not entirely alone.

then you both watch the faces of dead appear in the sky. it’s only 9 of you left. you and sevika, both tributes from 1, 2 and 3. and the boy from your district. the one you nicknamed the lost cause.

“i don’t know how he’s doing it,” you say, furrowing. “he’s so unstable,” 

sevika shrugs, assuming that maybe it plays in his advantage. 

“do you think it’s been suspiciously easy or we’re just lucky?” you ask her and she raises an eyebrow to see if you’re serious. you are. she’s confused, so you are to elaborate, “well, i feel like thirst was the one thing that could actually kill me. there was some gas on my first day, but it wasn’t poisonous. were you injured physically?”

“no. were you?”

“yes, when i was fighting with tributes from 5, but it’s not much,” you reply carelessly, because you almost forgot about those.

you agree when sevika says it’s time for new bandages, and when you unwrap the old one on your hand, you see that your wound has festered and wrinkle your nose. ugly. sevika doesn’t look away but sighs. right, her mom was a healer. 

“did you even clean it?” she asks but doesn’t bother with waiting for an answer and takes the antiseptic and bandages out of your bag. 

you bite your lips, watching her hands work deftly. “do you have any other wounds?” you nod and tell her about the one on your thigh. “take it off,” sevika demands, talking about the bottom of your suit. 

“aren’t you gonna buy me a drink first?” you say resentfully but before she says something insulting you slide your bottoms down enough for her to get access to your thigh. it’s cold — that’s all.

you both fall asleep. not intentionally and definitely not responsibly.

maybe it’s something about the warmth of someone nearby who doesn’t want to slit your throat — at least not now. 

but you two jump wide awake when you hear screaming. loud and coming at you.

your axe is already in your hands, just like sevika’s blade in hers. 

the careers. two from district 1, two from 2 and the last one from 3 — the so-called golden pack. tall, sculpted, polished like statues. 

they weren’t running at you, but from someone. or something. that’s when you see them. two mutated tigers, striped in glitching patterns, like static crawling on their skin. their jaws stretch too far, and their claws spark on contact with stone. they’re playing and their favourite game involves tearing someone apart.

you and Sevika exchange one glance. then it’s chaos.

the careers don’t hesitate to turn on you — the girl from 1 nearly slices your cheek open, the boy from 2 screams something incomprehensible while flailing his blade.

you swing your axe. she ducks. sevika’s elbow meets her nose. it’s a war on two fronts.

the tigers circle.

they pounce and crush the boy from 3 in a snap of spine and spray of red. another screams. the tigers chase him. sevika watches. calculating.

they’re not attacking randomly. they’re actually toying.

you slash at the girl from 1 again, landing a deep cut to her ribs. she backs off, wheezing. sevika moves behind her. and then grabs and throws her straight into a tiger’s open jaws. bones snap like twigs.

you almost freeze, but she doesn’t. she grabs the next, taking them by surprise — the smaller tribute from 2 — and repeats it. the last tribute — girl from 2 — sees what sevika’s doing.

she lunges with a roar and stabs her deep, right under her ribs. 

sevika screams. you turn just in time to bury your axe in the girl’s neck. she goes down.

while tigers play with very dead tributes, you two run as fast as possible before mutts turn their attention to you. when it seems like they’re not following, you finally let sevika sit and fall next to her.

your hands are already covered in blood. she’s breathing, shallow and sharp.

“that bitch,” she mutters.

“you’re okay. you’re okay,” you lie.

nothing in your packs can help her and you know that next day you have to go and find the careers’ pack, maybe they’ll have something. you press her wound, trembling. her blood soaks into your palms.

“sleep,” you whisper.

the next day when sevika assures you she’s fine — another lie — you quickly approach the area where your nap was interrupted yesterday. take all the food you see, which careers’ve got enough, but nothing of the medicine. you sigh.

sevika doesn’t even need you to tell her about that when you come back, your desperate eyes tell her everything. when she doesn’t resist eating, you can’t help but think that this might be her last meal.

then you start rambling.

about the first cow you ever helped deliver. about the time you and your brother painted axes with bright pink paint and your father got mad.

you keep talking until something heavy lands on your head. you look up, taking it into your hands.

a silver parachute. medicine.

your heart jumps, but you don’t hesitate.

you pour the contents over her wound, hands shaking.

sevika flinches. then gasps. you try your best and she tries to talk you through it. you wrap her tight. close the gash. press your forehead against hers. 

you did it. you saved her.

a sigh of relief and joy and happiness escapes your lips when comes the realisation. it’s only three of you left now. the boy from your district, you. and sevika. 

that’s when you hear the gamemaker’s voice that sounds almost amused. three tributes remain, they say. one final event. a gift for each of you, waiting in the heart of the arena. come claim it.

you and sevika don’t speak. you just nod once, gear up, and walk.

it’s inevitable anyway. if you don’t go to this feast now, they will still make you face each other, fight and die. 

you walk through smoke and ruin, past twisted metal and the remains of places you used to hide. it’s almost poetic that the center is the gear — the giant rusted cog that once turned something important but now just rests in the earth like a jaw waiting to close.

you arrive first. he’s already there. the boy from your district.

he doesn’t look like he used to. he’s thinner. twitchier. eyes wild, too wide. his shirt is stained with blood that’s not his. he holds the knife like it’s part of him.

you open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t wait.

sevika moves first — throws you behind a pile of rubble and blocks his blade with hers. they crash against each other, metal biting metal, and he’s stronger than you remember.

not skilled. just unhinged.

you scramble up, your axe in your hands, heart pounding. you circle. he throws a punch at sevika and she stabs at his leg — he dodges, growling.

then he sees you.

he drops from aevika’s line of sight and charges at you. too fast. your axe swings wide. his knife is already in motion.

it sinks into your chest. not fully in the heart, which would be faster, but close. you stumble back and he gasps.

his eyes meet yours, and suddenly he drops his weapon. stumbles away from you like he’s waking from something.

“no,” he says. “no, no, no — i didn’t mean— i thought— i—“ he falls to his knees, his hands are shaking and he starts crying.

sevika catches you before you hit the ground.

her arms wrap around you roughly, one hand pressed hard over the wound.

“what the fuck did you do,” she hisses — not to him. to you “you idiot. you stupid, reckless idiot,”  she repeats, over and over, “you were supposed to win,”

you were supposed to win.

you can’t breathe properly. your fingers tremble, “shut up, sev,” the only words you can squeeze out before you you lift your hand and cup her face, making her lean in. her face is all angles and fury and grief.

your lips barely touch. a breath. a tremor.

then stillness. you’re gone in her arms.

sevika doesn’t cry. she lays you down gently, like something she carved with her own hands. then she stands. her gaze finds the boy still kneeling. he raises his eyes to her. and for a second, it looks like he’ll say something.

he never gets the chance.

viewers are not sure if what happens next is vengeance or instinct. but when it’s over, there’s only one name left to announce.

sevika.

you will never know that sevika won the games. you died, thinking it, but you’ll never know for sure. 

you will never know that every month your family receives sevika’s winnings.

you will never know that the only family sevika has left — her father — gets killed by the capitol three weeks after her win because she refused to play by capitol’s games. 

and you will never know that when twenty years later a pink haired girl sparks a revolution, she helps adding the fuel to the fire with you in her mind. 

tags: @riotstemple29

[itzpookiepooh]

You Lose!

You’ve been playing video games all day

Xavier is a very patient man. He would wait for you for the rest of his life. Not in this situation though, you have been playing in a gaming tournament for over 8 hours. He came home, greeted you, and what did you do? You just nodded your head at him. He ordered dinner and guess what? You barely touched it because you were too focused on that game.

As patient as Xavier is, even he had his limits. He was tired of being ignored by you. He was sick of hearing the same constant gunfire on the tv screen. He wanted to rip his eyelids off he was so irritated. He tried not to get upset so he went into your shared bedroom to catch up on some much needed rest. Only to hear the noise from the game in there. He was done, he teleports into the living room to give you an earful.

“Turn it off.” He says bluntly making you glance at him. You couldn’t you were almost done with the tournament. He glared at you as you continued your focus on the game.

“I’m almost done then I’ll lay with you.” You mumbled as your fingers rapidly moved across the controller. Xavier huffed watching your team get beat up. He didn’t even understand the point. You weren’t winning anything and this company was known for a good scam. He had enough and lifted you up taking you to the bedroom.

“Hey! I’m not done!” You shout, “It’s 2am. You’re done besides someone gets pretty upset when they haven’t gotten enough sleep.” And that was the end of it because as soon as your body hit the bed you were down for the count. Xavier wasted no time cuddling up to you and immediately falling asleep.

He’s not the one you want to do this to. He doesn’t even want to let you finish the game. He actually doesn’t let you finish it at all because as soon as you ignore him for too long he’s putting matters into his own hands. The endless hours of the same map was making his eyes hurt and he wasnt even playing. He stood behind the tv watching you not pay him any mind. He snatched the plug out of the wall making your jaw drop.

“You should’ve paid me some attention.”

He tosses the cord before dragging you to bed. You snapped at Rafayel the whole way. You also try to plead your case on how this tournament was extremely important. He lets you talk his ear off of course but when you hit the bed your speaking slows down. Rafayel just stares at you waiting for you to go to sleep. What does you in? Him running his fingertips over your eyelids. You finally go to sleep causing him to huff.

“Finally.” He huffs dramatically before throwing the blanket over both of you and zones into the sounds of the ocean outside.

He tries to wait it out, truly he does but when the clock starts hitting 3am and you’re on your 15th round he knows it’s getting ridiculous. He has showered and gotten ready for bed and you STILL haven’t moved. He was becoming rather impatient.

When he walked into the room your eyes were glued onto the screen. He shook his head as he moved farther into the room. You didn’t hear him as you cheered for winning this event. You were going to run to the bathroom before the next match but when you turned he was standing there with his arms crossed. You screamed loudly as you hold your rapidly beating heart.

“When did—how? I can’t breathe.” You pant on your knees clutching your chest. He breathes out a laugh before walking over and turning your game off. You pout at him. How could he?

“It’s time for bed.” He lifts you up to which you don’t fight. You didn’t realize how tired you were as you rested your head on his.

“I was in a tournament y’know? It’s super important.” You explain to him as you nod. He hums softly as he walks through the home.

“So important that you’ve played for over 12 hours. Have you won anything?” He asks smirking as usual.

“It’s pre trials if we make it to 50 levels we get to the real thing.” You express with your hands. He chuckles shaking his head. He knew you’d collapse before then anyway. He enters the bedroom and lays you gently on the mattress. You sigh through your nose as your body relaxes into the luxurious mattress.

“Well I think a certain gaming master needs rest before jumping into such a meaningful task.” He kisses your forehead as you begin to daze.

“Rest…right.” You trail off. If anything puts you to sleep it’s the tone in Sylus’ voice and his nice comfy bed.

“Mm exactly. Sleep tight.” His deep voice flows through your ears. He waits until your breathing evens out before smirking and tucking you in. He holds you close as you both fall asleep.

Caleb was playing with you earlier in the day but as most people he got bored. He told you the fleet needed him for something and that he’d be right back. You mumbled a noise confirming you heard him. When he got back it was extremely late and he could still hear the noises from your game. You were so focused you didn’t hear him come home.

“Pipsqueak I think it’s time to get off.” He spoke softly trying to drag your attention away from the bright screen.

“One second…almost done.” You mumbled to him as your fingers rapidly move across the controller. He sighs before walking away, he was going to give you time by showering.

When he came back he had to make the executive decision or else you’d regret it in the morning. He used his evol to lift you up which didn’t faze you since you didn’t let go of the controller. He chuckled before walking closer and taking it from you. Your eyes red and irritated from staring at the screen for so long.

“You’ll regret it in the morning besides, your eyes are bloodshot.” He informed you causing you to gasp and close them.

When you arrived in the bedroom, he sat you down. You couldn’t lie your eyes did burn. Maybe sleep was the best option right now. Caleb always knew what was best even as you both got older. He cuddled you until you fell asleep, he stayed up a while longer to make sure you were comfortable.

He had no idea why you weren’t answering his texts all day. He forgot you had the day off and assumed you were at work. He couldn’t call to check on you since it was the busiest day ever today. When it came time for him to get off work, he texted you he was on his way home. To his surprise you were sitting close to the tv screen playing a shooter game.

The room was tidy as if you hadn’t moved an inch since you sat down. He put his keys up and took his shoes off before walking closer. You looked drained, he couldn’t even begin to guess how long you had been playing. He crouched beside you and tapped your shoulder. You give him a quick side glance before smiling softly.

“You’re home.” Your voice filled with joy. “Have you been sitting here all day?” He asked with genuine concern. You nod as he watches your eyes dart across the screen.

“This isn’t healthy, your eyes and brain need rest.” He informed you as he rubbed your back. You nodded sort of hearing him.

“I’m almost done…” You trail off as the clacking of the controller gets louder. He sighs turning to look at the screen seeing your character die.

“That ended quicker than I anticipated.” He mumbled before looking back at you. Your eyes were sore and looking at Zayne for this short period of time gave them relief.

“You should shower.” You tell him but he raises an eyebrow at you.

“You’re trying to trick me again. I know you’ll start another round if I leave.” He told you making you laugh.

“It was worth a shot.” You told him as he helped you stand up. He guided you to bed before going to wash off his day. He promised to tell you a story after his shower. By the time he was done you were fast asleep, curled into his pillow. That brought a smile to his face.

He kissed your forehead gently before whispering, “Goodnight, my love.” He proceeds to fall asleep next to you. This was the best night’s sleep either of you had gotten in a while.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Loving You Was Never Hard

Part 1

Wandanat x fem!reader

Summary: After you get kicked out of your apartment by your emotionally abusive ex your neighbor helps you by calling his sister who happily takes you in with her wife.

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: emotional abuse, abandonment, anxiety, distress, crying, breakdown, nightmares

Authors note: I had trouble starting this, but I like where it's going so far. If you want to see more of this please let me know.

“I'm done! Get out! Get out Y/N!” your girlfriend, well now ex, yelled, no spat at you. Shoving you and your belongings outside of your apartment. You had tried to speak, to fix things. You had no one and nowhere to go. She had made you move across the country for her job, said she'd take care of you; that her job would pay more than enough for you to be her perfect housewife. 

You'd tried and tried, but no matter what you did she'd find something wrong with it. Some way to criticize it. The food wasn't cooked right, the laundry wasn't folded right, you moved her favorite mug and it wasn't where she could just grab it. 

It always ended in a fight and now she was leaving you with nothing. You actually had nothing.

Tears spilled over as you shoved your clothes into your bag. You heard a door down the hall open, but paid it no mind until you saw running sneakers in your peripheral. Your eyes ran up, seeing a thin man, silver hair and blue eyes. He was in athleisure wear. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, an accent in his voice of eastern European. You just stared up at him like it's obvious that you aren't. The whole building just heard the knock down drag out fight you had. “Sorry I wasn't sure what else to say. Do you have some place to go?” He asked as he crouched down, handing you a few things just out of your reach.

“No…” you finally respond, not looking into his eyes. 

“I don't have any room in my place, mine is a studio, but I have a sister who has a guest room. Her and her wife are really nice. I know you don't know them or me really, but it's better than the streets of New York.” You bite your lip knowing he isn't wrong. 

You nod and he pulls out his phone, bringing up a number that has a picture of a red head, with the contact name “12 minutes younger” a half smile forming on your lips. She's his twin. 

“Sestra…” he starts speaking a language you don't understand. Your brows furrow together, hoping to understand or catch something that sounds familiar. No such thing happens before he hangs up. “She'll be here in ten minutes.” 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You were nervous when the red head pulled up to the apartment building. Your neighbor, who you learned was named Pietro, filled you in a bit on his sister, Wanda, and her wife, Natasha. You were a bit nervous to meet them, but Wanda showed up alone. 

Her voice was sweet and thick like honey; accented just like her twin brother. The two once again talked in the language you didn't know. Feeling like a small child as you held your bag, waiting for her to finish talking. 

“Okay Malyshka let's head home.” Wanda spoke to you. The word home felt foreign. Your home had been those four walls up on the third floor of this apartment. It felt like a rock in your stomach as you got into the passenger seat, putting your bag on the floor between your feet and buckling up. 

Wanda's car was nice, a 2025 Audi A5 Sportsback. The exterior was a beautiful red and an all black interior. The seats were leather, and it smelled like a new car, but you took notice of the air freshener clip on the front vent. 

“My brother told me a little of what happened, but obviously he doesn't know everything. I'm sorry for whatever happened to you tonight and any other bad night Malyshka. Whenever you wanna talk about it we can. Or if you don't, that's fine too.” Wanda gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and took in a breath. “Our home will be your home until you find a place to be.” 

“I um…I don't have a job or anything, so I'm gonna have to find one.” You spoke softly, looking down at your lap and pretending to play with a string. ____

“That's okay. We'll take care of you.” Her voice sounds genuine, but it makes you nauseous and it feels hard to swallow. It suddenly feels too hot in the car so you roll the window down, crossing your arms as you lean against it. The cool, damp night air helps you feel a little better. You close your eyes letting the night air hit your heated face. “Almost there, malyshka.” she says softly, it wraps around your tired head and your eyes flutter open. Wanda turns into a neighborhood with big houses, ones you knew were for some of the richest people in New York. Did they really live here? You wracked your brain trying to think of the names Wanda and Natasha, but nothing came to mind of anyone. 

Wanda pulled into the spacious garage there was a truck that was also red and a few motorcycles. One that was a classic and one that looked more like a sports bike. The garage was neat and organized as you looked around, following behind Wanda as your heart raced in your chest. 

“Moya lyubov! We're home!” Wanda called out. You looked around, jaw dropping as you looked around the house was opulent. As you looked around it didn’t feel cold like you expected it to be, rather it felt clean, but lived in. The living room had a soft looking sectional, pillows and throw blankets both on it and in a basket next to a stone fireplace. There were pictures and candles adorning the top of the fireplace with a big TV hanging from the wall. 

The kitchen was beautiful with dark green cabinets, a white stone backsplash, and wooden floors that carried over from the living room. The countertops were also wooden and a matching island sat in the middle. 

You didn’t hear her before you saw her, making you jump when a second redhead appeared next to you. You hid on the other side of Wanda who chuckled. 

“It’s okay malyshka. This is my wife, Natasha. She’s light footed.” Wanda assured, putting a hand on your lower back. Her hand was cold against you as you moved forward. Natasha was beautiful right now. Her hair was straight, but pulled back into a ponytail with some loose baby hairs on the sides of her face, she wore a tight, grey tank top with loose fitting sweat pants. She had clearly been ready for bed when Wanda got the call from her brother. You looked back at Wanda and now taking a second look she looked ready for bed too. A loose fitting t-shirt and leggings. 

Suddenly you felt bad, another pit forming in your stomach as you gripped at the hem of your shirt, much like a toddler would. Natasha didn’t let you dwell on it long though. 

“I made up the guest room for you. Come on krasivaya. Let me show you.” Natasha spoke up, gesturing to you to follow. You did so without much hesitation. Following behind her with Wanda taking up the rear with the rest of your things. 

The room was just as beautiful as the kitchen, the same green spilling into the walls. There was a built-in bookshelf and above it was a skylight directly hitting the bed; the moonlight outside spilling in. A few pictures hung above the bed and there was a slightly smaller tv than the one in the living room facing the bed so you could watch comfortably in bed. Just to the right of the TV was a door to a bathroom. You’d have your own bathroom which was something you hadn’t had in years. 

“This is all yours. Anything in this room while you’re here is yours. If there's anything you need Wanda and I have a little whiteboard on the fridge. Feel free to add whatever you want or need to it.” Natasha looked at you, like she was expecting an answer. 

“Oh uh yes thank you. I’m really sorry for intruding like this.” Your voice got quiet and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at either of the older women. 

You felt Wanda’s hand on you once more, but this time on your shoulder, “It’s okay Malyshka. I’m glad Pietro called me and that you’re safe with us now. Just get some rest for tonight okay?” Her voice was softer, more motherly suddenly. It wrapped around you like a warm blanket. You simply nodded and thankfully Wanda smiled at you. “If you need us for any reason,” She moved slightly out of the doorway and pointed diagonally across the hall to a door on the other side. “Tasha and I will be right in there. That’s our room.” You nod once more at her words, but knew you wouldn’t bother them, you already felt like you were burdening them by being here. 

The two left you alone, closing the door behind them as you looked around once more before rummaging for something comfy from your bag and going to take a quick shower. The hot water felt good against your skin as you let out a sigh and finally broke down. Crying out for the loss of everything you had known. You knew things had been getting bad, but you never saw it coming how she’d isolate you like that. How she’d nitpick everything you did on a daily basis. You only ever wanted to be a good girlfriend and show your love and appreciation for her. You crouched down in the shower, holding your knees to your chest as the water cascaded over you, mixing with the salty tears. It was over.

The bed felt like a marshmallow you were sinking into once you finally got yourself into bed. The blankets and comforter were soft and the pillows were also very plush. You don’t realize it, but you drift off to sleep…

You're in your apartment. The furniture is where it used to be, but the walls seem to lean inward, pressing down on you. The air is thick, stifling, as if it's trying to hold you in place.

Then, you hear it—her voice.

"You're so dramatic," she says, tone sickly sweet. She’s standing in the doorway, somehow taller, darker, like a shadow stretching too far. You want to move, to run, but your feet feel rooted to the floor. Like you’re sinking into molasses 

"I don't know why you always do this," she sighs, stepping closer. "You're so sensitive. It’s honestly exhausting."

Her words wrap around your chest like vines, tightening with every breath. You try to speak, to tell her no, to tell her to leave you alone, but when you open your mouth, nothing comes out.

"You wouldn't last a day without me," she whispers, and suddenly her hands are on your shoulders—heavy, cold, pulling you down.

The walls are closer now, the room shrinking. Her grip tightens, fingers pressing into your skin like bruises waiting to bloom.

"Say it," she coos. "Say you need me."

You shake your head, thrashing against her, but your limbs move like they're underwater. Your vision blurs, the edges of the room fading into darkness.

"Say it." her voice is everywhere now, inside your head, beneath your skin.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to wake up—

And then you do.

You're in that plush bed, drenched in sweat, heart slamming against your ribs. The room is quiet, empty. But her words linger like an echo, a ghost of something that once held you captive. You sit up, looking around with just the moonlight there as your light. You check your phone. It’s four in the morning and you find yourself getting up from the bed. It feels like too much. Like you need someone else's presence. You find yourself standing in front of their door. It’s cracked slightly and you can hear soft voices talking. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, you want to knock, to have that human connection, but you hesitate. You don’t know either of them. They’re letting you stay here out of pity, but as if by magic the door creaks open without any touch. You stand there in the doorway frozen. Both women are looking at you.

“Are you okay malyshka?” Wanda’s voice is still soft, heavy with sleep. You want to speak, but words feel too hard right now. “Come here malyshka.” Wanda pat the bed, just at the end. Their bed was huge. Probably a California King. You moved over, sitting at the edge trying to take up the least amount of space. Wanda smiled fondly at you before going back to the conversation her and Natasha were having. 

You closed your eyes and listened as they spoke, some words in a language you didn’t understand, but for some reason it just helped you relax more. Wanda’s voice was soft and warm like a blanket and Natasha’s was thick and heavy like it was ready to protect from everything it could. Slowly you fell back asleep listening to the two older women talk.

[huggybug]

red flags - ryan leonard

word count: 4.0 words

note: oh hi, remember me?? it’s been a minute but i’m back! my first time writing in a LONG time so go easy on me <3 manifesting big things for the caps with this one🙂‍↕️

One week.

It had been a week since you watched your boyfriend lose to Denver in the Frozen Four. Well, he was your boyfriend. As of 6 days ago, he was your ex.

You weren’t surprised when Ryan texted you the morning after the game. He had returned to Boston the night before but you were already asleep so waking up to a text from Ryan reading ‘I need to focus on hockey right now. I’m sorry’

You didn’t even bother with a response. It wasn’t necessarily a complete surprise but you also weren’t thrilled. Ryan knew he was moving on to the NHL after this season, it was more a matter of when that would happen. And while you figured long distance might be a bit of a strain, you hadn’t expected your relationship to be ended through a text on a random Monday morning.

Over the past two years, you were known among your friends to have a tumultuous relationship. You were both easily jealous and it caused constant fights. It was never the same thing, it would go back and forth and neither of you were one to back down from a fight. You had to admit it was toxic but despite knowing that, you’d be right back with him within the week every time.

They were playing Michigan State and were there for the whole weekend. You had watched his game in your dorm and as Ryan scored his first goal of the season. When the game ended in a 4-3 loss, you sent your boyfriend a text congratulating him on the goal and condolences on the loss. He only heart reacted to the message but you chalked it up to the loss and let it slide. Ryan usually will call you after a game but you didn’t expect anything after that so you put your phone away and went to sleep.

A couple hours later, you woke up to your phone buzzing and open it to see text after text from a friend from high school who just so happened to go to Michigan State. ‘Isn’t this your boyfriend??’ Followed by a blurry photo of guy standing at a bar. You have to zoom in to see the girl who’s trapped between his arms, facing him with her back to said bar. You sit up in bed, flicking through the other photos your friend sent. One of Ryan bending down to hear whatever the girl is saying, one with him tipping his head back in laughter, and finally one where he’s leaning in for what looks like a kiss. While they’re not actually kissing, it’s not hard to assume that’s what’s about to happen.

Your heart is pounding against your chest as you try to figure out what to do. It’s not like you can do much. Ryan’s 12 hours away, making out with a mystery Michigan woman while you’re stuck in your dorm. You quickly answered your friend before switching over to your thread with Ryan. Staring at the message he’d basically ignored from four hours earlier, you’re hitting the call button before you even register it.

“Y/n?” You can barely hear him when he answers but then it gets quieter so you assume he’s stepped outside of whatever bar they’re at. “What’s going on?”

You’re at a loss for words. After a minute of silence, you realize you have nothing to say to him so you hang up. Instead, you copy the photos you were sent and send them to him. Then, you shut your phone off and go back to sleep.

When the team got back to campus the following day, Ryan beelined it to your dorm and when you opened your door to him with lunch from your favourite place and a bouquet of pink tulips, begging for your forgiveness, of course you let him in.

You weren’t sure if you wanted it to stick this time. The past two years had been building up to the excitement of Ryan making to the NHL and you feel like you’d been a small part in that journey so not getting to experience it with him was a little disappointing. However, if that’s what was better for him, so be it. You decided to distract yourself the way you knew best, partying.

Your friends made it their mission to not let you stay home when there was opportunity to go out. You went to bars, frat parties, you name it. And if Ryan happened to see you through peoples stories or posts on social media, that just made it all the better.

Ryan made his NHL debut on the Tuesday and you didn’t watch. You went to a friends house for a games night. He scored his first goal on Friday night, you were at a frat party. The Capitals clinched their playoff spot on the following Tuesday while you were at your favourite bar to watch the Bruins game with your friends.

It had been 8 days since you last spoke to him when the text came through.

Can you be here on the 20th?

You had to check the name three times before you believed it. Ryan Leonard.

You didn’t answer at first, not exactly knowing what to do. Then your phone started to ring. You slid your phone off the table and excused yourself from your friends. Stepping outside of the restaurant, you took a breath before sliding to answer.

“What do you want Ryan?” You answered with an attitude.

“Did you see my text?” He puffed out quickly.

“Yes” You sighed, “Again, what do you want?” You weren’t exactly upset but you were frustrated.

“Well the girls were asking when you’d be able to get here because I guess they want some group picture in the outfits…” Ryan trailed off and left you confused.

“What girls?” You felt like this was a practical joke being played on you. There was not a single hint of your understanding in what he was talking about.

“The fucking wives Y/n. What do you mean what girls?” Ryan huffed and you almost laughed at the fact that he sounded so put out by your confusion.

“Ryan what the fuck are you talking about?”

“The jackets Y/n. They ordered them and now they want to know when you’ll be here to get yours” That made your head spin. First of all, how did they know to order one for Ryan and also why was he now expecting you to come collect it.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Y/n. Just answer the question” He was getting mad but you didn’t care.

“No Ryan, tell me what the hell is going on. Did I just imagine you breaking up with me in a text last week? Are you really coming back and pretending nothing happened? You can’t blame me for being confused right now”

“Look, I shouldn’t have blown you off like that, I’m sorry. I was stressed about leaving and I know that’s not an excuse but I promise I’ll be better. I just need you here for playoffs, please baby” You took a deep breath, taking it in. He sounded sincere but Ryan always had a knack for that. You never doubted his sincerity and usually that led to your own demise.

“If I get you a flight on the 20th, can you be here?” He asked after a moment had gone by without you saying anything. You can't believe the words until they're spewing out of your mouth.

“Fine. Send me the ticket” You said quickly before hanging up the phone, dropping your head and wondering why the hell you just agreed to that.

…

As soon as you stepped out of the doors at Dulles International Airport, your eyes locked on Ryan. He was leaning against what you would imagine was his rental car, a sleek black Range Rover, with a huge bouquet of pink flowers in hand. One thing about Ryan is while he knows how to cause a fight, he sure as hell knows how to fix one.

“Hi baby” He immediately pulls you into his arms and you melt right into him. “I’m so sorry, I missed you, I love you so much”

You take a step back and accept the flowers as he takes care of your luggage. “Missed you too Ry”

Last summer you went to see Ryan when he was staying at his family’s house on the Cape with a few of the guys on the team. Ryan promised you a week of drinking, going out on his boat, and hanging around with friends and you were excited. That was until you spent the first two days in the house alone while all the boys went golfing. You could have gone with them but when Will had been the one to ask you to come instead of your boyfriend, you opted to stay back and sulk.

When Ryan came home from golfing the second day, you were in a bad mood and he was the perfect target to take it out on.

"Hey babe, we're going to go out for dinner, you almost ready?" Ryan asked as he walked into your shared bedroom for the week.

"Oh I'm invited?" You scoffed and he paused, shirt halfway over his head, turning to look at you.

"What are you talking about? Of course you are" Ryan tosses his shirt onto the floor near the laundry hamper.

"Well you haven't exactly cared to have me around so far, how am I supposed to know tonight's different" You huff and you can hear Ryan sigh as he turns to head into the bathroom.

"I'm not doing this right now. Come or don't, I don't give a shit" Ryan rolls his eyes, clearly frustrated with you but you continue to push at him.

"You invite me here and for what Ryan? To have me wait around for you while you're out with your buddies? Great way for me to spend my time"

"God forbid I go golfing with the boys" He holds his hands up in surrender, mocking you.

"You know it's not just that Ryan" He had barely spoken to you over the past couple days, coming home after dinner at the club last night and leaving this morning before you woke up.

"You're acting ridiculous right now, I'm going to shower. Either be ready when I'm done or stay home" He flings the door shut behind him and you're left alone in the bedroom once again.

Needing some fresh air, you head to the backyard but stop in your tracks when you run into Will as you're stepping outside. "Hey, are you okay?" You laugh dryly, knowing that the look on your face is answering his question itself. "Leno's an idiot, I'm sure he didn't mean whatever he said" The fact that he knew that you two were fighting without you having to say anything spoke volumes about your relationship. Sometimes you thought about what your friends or family members think about your relationship. How many more times your best friend will let you crash at her place at 2 am after Ryan had ran you out of his dorm, when you’re crying on her couch and she has to reassure you everything is going to be okay. You think about how much time and energy this relationship takes from you yet you still decide to go back each time.

"You know I love you Will but if you're just going to defend him, I really don't want to hear it" You brush past him and move to the edge of the deck, looking out at the water and taking a few breaths.

“Look, you know I love you both but give him a chance to apologize for whatever it is, you know he will, he always does” Will says and hesitates for a moment, “You guys always figure it out, this time won’t be any different” You hear the door to the house open and close again behind him.

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it?” You mumble to yourself. You let Will’s words sit with you for a moment before heading back up to your room where Ryan is just finishing getting ready.

“You’re not ready?” He asks through the mirror as he fusses with his hair.

“I was just talking to Will and-” He abruptly cuts you off.

“Oh? Fucking around with Smitty now are we?” He asks and you’re frozen in your spot, jaw hanging at his insinuation. While he had had his moments, you were not a cheater.

“Stop talking out of your ass you know that’s not true” You roll your eyes, almost mad at yourself that you had come back up here to make up with him.

“Wouldn’t put it past you”

“You know what? Fuck you. I’m done” Grabbing your bag from the closet, you start throwing your things in, collecting whatever you can find of your stuff before moving onto the bathroom.

“Oh you’re gonna run away now?” He wasn’t even looking at you, he was on his phone and that only made you more angry.

“Yeah I am because I’m so over your shit. You act like a child and I’m not putting up with it anymore”

Once you’re in the car, it’s like nothing even happened. Ryan spends the whole time talking about the team and how great everyone’s been at helping him out. He explains how he’s living with one of the guys and it’s been nothing short of a dream. Pulling up to the house, it’s absolutely gorgeous. Ryan gets your bags out and is up to the door before you can even process it. He introduces you to his teammate and his girlfriend, Maddie before ushering you towards his room, leaving your bags by the closet doors. You wait until he’s finished fiddling around with things before you burst the bubble of happiness he’s created.

“Ryan, why am I here?” He sets the puck down that he had picked up to show you, his first goal puck you’re assuming, and turns to look at you.

It’s the first time you’ve really gotten to look at him, to take it all in. He looks tired. His usual bright blue eyes are dimmed and are matching with the dark bags under his eyes. His shoulders are slightly hunched like he’s holding more weight on them since you’d last seen him.

“I needed you” He says simply. It’s quiet but you can hear the hesitation in his voice. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I fucked up leaving you like that, I know. I thought it would be for the best but I think I forgot how much I fucking need you in my life”

You don’t know what to say to that so instead you close the distance between the two of you and pull him down for a kiss. This is how it always goes with you two and well, who were you to ruin the cycle.

…

Capital One Arena was absolutely electric for the Captials’ first playoff game. You follow close behind Maddie, the only girlfriend on the team that you know however you’re all in a group. 20 girls in matching jackets charging through the arena and you’ve never felt more out of place. The girls are all talking to each other and while they all introduced themselves when Maddie introduced you to the group, you had been left out of the conversation ever since. You didn’t blame them though, they’ve all spent the year together, their husbands or boyfriends were all friends and you were just a random 20 year old following them around. At least back at BC, all the girls were so similar it was easy to hang out as a group.

You tried to keep up the facade of being Ryan’s girlfriend. It wasn’t a total lie of course, but the reality of your relationship seemed too intricate to explain to the group of women you had just met. You spoke when you were spoken to but aside from that, you kept to yourself which nobody seemed to mind.

“So Y/n, this is your first time here? You didn’t come for Ryan’s debut?” One of the girls asks and you smile sheepishly.

“I couldn’t make it because of school” You lie, “I couldn’t miss this though” That part was more true.

Then, the lights dimmed and the conversation was dropped, everyone’s attention turning to the ice where the team was coming out of the tunnel as the crowd roared.

You spotted Ryan as soon as he stepped onto the ice. This is what you were comfortable with. Watching Ryan’s games over the past couple years became one of your favourite memories, you loved watching him excel in his passion and a wave of pride rolled over you as the in-arena announcer said his name, prompting the crowd to get even louder.

The game eventually got started and you watched intently as you toyed with the sleeve of your jacket. The jacket with the 9 patches on the sleeves, Leonard stitched into the collar. It made you feel a certain type of way, it was like Ryan had accepted you into this part of his life. Like by giving you this jacket, he had decided you weren’t going to be a part of his college life, you were going to last longer than that. You’d assume that after two years you wouldn’t need a silly jacket to tell you that but Ryan always kept you guessing.

The game ended up going to overtime but luckily the Capitals pulled off the win. The girls celebrated with the rest of the fans before heading down to the family room. You of course just followed along, not knowing where to go and suddenly very grateful you had a group of people with you so you didn’t have to figure it out yourself. The family room was pretty full once everyone was there, some kids running around while the younger ones were falling asleep on the couches. Guys trickled out one by one from the big double doors at one end of the room, which you assumed led to the locker room. You waited for probably 30 minutes before Ryan emerged, wide smile on his face and eyes searching for you in the small crowd that was left.

“Congrats on the win” You say as he hugs you tightly, pulling you close.

“Thanks for being here baby” He says quietly and you smile, squeezing him even tighter.

It was the moments like this that made you forget all the red flags. Ryan was the sweetest, most loving guy most of the time. The not so great moments, those were only a fraction of what you experienced with him. You went easily as he slung his arm around your shoulders and started walking you out to his car.

…

Game two was here and it feels like the energy had multiplied from last game. You went out with the girls before and surprisingly, you felt more at ease. As you all headed to the arena, you found yourself thinking that you could get used to this.

This game wasn't nearly as close as the last one but the fans fed into the excitement and you cheered as the Capitals won again, going 2-0 in the series. It was the best possible outcome and you knew Ryan would be excited. The team was all happy with the wins but most, if not all of them, have experienced it before. Ryan wasn't new to playoff hockey but the Stanley Cup Playoffs were a whole thing entirely, or so he told you.

The night went similarly to last time, you waited for him in the family room and once he finally emerged, you walked hand in hand to his car.

"So you leave tomorrow?" You ask him once you're out of the parking garage.

"Yeah in the afternoon I think" He pauses, trying to remember the schedule that they had just gone over in their meeting. "There's probably a flight to Boston in the morning" You nodded, sinking back into your seat. Of course you had to go back. You had school and there was no reason for you to stay here while Ryan was in Montreal.

"I should pack then" You say more to yourself than to him.

"You didn't expect to stay here did you?" He asked and the question hit you like a knife in the chest. You were at a loss for words for a moment, feeling stupid for ever expecting anything different from him.

"So is this it then?" You decide to ignore his question and ask one of your own instead.

"What?" He looks over at you with wide eyes.

"Well I'd rather get it out of the way rather than land in Boston to another text from you" You say coldly, staring straight ahead at the road in front of you.

"Y/n... I said I was sorry for. that" He replied, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"I just don't know if I can trust you to not do it again" You don't want to start a fight but you had to ask.

"Are you serious?"

"Look at our track record Ry, and it's not just you. Trust me, I know I've caused a lot of it too. We just can't seem to figure it out"

"I have figured it out. I need you Y/n. I need you in my life, in Washington. I don't know how you got the idea that I don't but we can figure it out, I know we can" He flicked the turn signal on a little more aggressively than necessary, his frustration ringing out.

"Why can't you see it Ryan? You shouldn't need me here. You should want me" You sigh, "And you don't, that's the problem" Ryan's number one priority was Ryan and right after that it was hockey. You didn't fault him for it but with that being said, it just didn't seem like there was a space for you in his life right now.

"No- I can't-" He had pulled into the driveway now and turned as much as he could to face you in the car. "I'm sorry, just tell me what to do"

"Look, we both have our shit we need to figure out. We break up and we make up but nothing ever changes. Just cause we want it to work doesn't mean it should, some things just aren't meant to be"

...

You watched the airport get smaller as the plane pulled away and you felt it deep in your chest. You were leaving a part of you behind in Washington. He was going to get on a plane himself and you hated that he would probably be laughing and joking around with his teammates while you're by yourself, pressed against the window.

When Ryan dropped you off this morning, walking away from him was the hardest thing you have ever done. It wasn't the first time but it did feel like the last time. In your previous break ups, it typically was a result from a fight. It was immature and silly but that's what made you fall right back into it days later. This time, it was stemmed from a more mature place, you had a conversation and while it wasn't necessarily what either of you wanted, but it was what was needed.

However, that didn't mean the door was closed forever. And if he messaged you when they made it to the finals, asking if you could come back to the city for the series, part of you knew you'd be looking for flights before you even finished reading the text.

[whore4wroetoshaw]

introduction and backstory to minter!reader.

it was always her and simon.

technically, there were four minter siblings—nick, johnny, simon, and her—but the age gaps had naturally split the house into factions. the older brothers were kind, calm, composed, and busy doing "older sibling" things. and then there was simon and his baby sister. built-in best friend, video game partner, co-conspirator since birth.

from the moment she could talk, she was yelling over him. and from the moment she could walk, he was dragging her into games she didn't understand but refused to lose in.

they did everything together. from football in the garden to secret snack runs to late night fifa. she couldn't care less about the offside rule—all she wanted to do was hang out with her big brother.

and simon? he let her. he shared everything. his room. his hoodie. his ps2. his terrible opinions.

when simon was 12 years old, he came home absolutely fuming. some boy at school — jj something — had called him 'lanky' in front of the whole class. she was nine. she didn't know what lanky meant, but she knew it had made her brother sad, and that was enough.

so the next time she saw jj's annoying younger brother, same age as her, teasing her in the school corridor with the same insult, she did the only thing that made sense to her at nine years old.

she punched him. in the face. broke his nose, even. it was a messy, chaotic fight that ended in two detentions, one very confused teacher, and a strange, shaky truce between the minter siblings and the olatunji siblings that would — against all odds — grow into a lifelong bond.

when simon started posting on youtube in his room, she wanted in. while he was uploading fifa videos on miniminter, she was sitting on the floor filming q&as on an old flip cam. lip gloss too bright. lighting non-existent.

they both grew. seperately, but together.

then came the sidemen.

by 2013, simon was filming every weekend, working with the og crew, growing a channel that would change all their lives. she was around for all of it — helping with thumbnails, occasionally hopping into a video, eating leftover pizza after shoots.

the boys loved her immediately. jj called her "miniest minter." josh made it a ritual to bring her iced coffee before a shoot. ethan was practically her cameraman. tobi let her paint his nails. vik even made vines with her. and simon? simon pretended he hated that she was always around — but never actually told her to leave.

wroetoshaw.

he wasn’t there at the start. he joined in 2014. which meant she didn’t know him. at least — not yet.

harry lewis came into their lives like a tornado in a blue hoodie. they brought him in like a missing puzzle piece. the perfect mix of explosive fifa rage and hilarious.

except… he didn’t know her.

the boys had been talking about her for months. y/n this, y/n that. so, naturally, harry asked. "sorry—who the fuck is y/n?"

simon didn't even look up from his phone. "my sister." harry's ears immediately perked up. "you have a sister? how old?"

“yeah, your age,” josh chimed in, like it was common knowledge. “she’s around a lot. how have you not met her yet?”

tobi nodded. “you’ll meet her soon. she's... something.”

"she's fuckin' gorgeous, is what she is." ethan grinned.

simon groaned. “don’t say that.”

twenty minutes later, as if summoned, she walked in. oversized hoodie (stolen from simon), lips glossed, phone in one hand, coffee in the other, speaker poking out of her bag blaring graduation.

she didn’t even glance up at first. just waltzed in like she owned the place, humming to the beat of the song, nails clacking lightly against her phone screen as she dug through her tote bag. “simon,” she called casually, still not making eye contact, “did you take my charger last night?”

simon didn’t look up either. “no.”

“liar.”

“check your bathroom drawer.”

“i did. all I found was your deodorant and a full bag of haribos.”

“so that’s where i left them—”

jj cut in, already grinning. “y/n, meet harry.”

she paused. looked up. finally. harry stood there, awkward and wide-eyed, a half-eaten flapjack in his hand and his soul visibly leaving his body because, what. the. fuck.

nobody said she’d be hot. he hadn’t known what to expect — maybe someone who looked vaguely like simon with glasses or braces or weird posture. he wasn’t ready for this. she didn’t look like simon at all. not lanky. not awkward. she was… gorgeous. completely unaware of it. or maybe very aware. either way, he was spiralling.

she tilted her head. "you're wroetoshaw?"

he nodded. “technically, yeah. i mean—yes. harry. i’m harry. but that’s—uh—yeah.”

she blinked. "... okay."

he cleared his throat. "you don't look like simon. at all."

"i'll take that as a compliment." she grinned and moved toward the couch. "hold this for a second, will you?" she gestured toward her coffee.

of course he took it without thinking. zero hesitation. and then… she walked off. sat herself on the couch like it was hers, casually pulling things out of her bag, legs tucked under her like she’d been there forever.

harry was still standing there. clutching her half-melted iced coffee. blinking. breathing weird.

she held out her hand, palm open, not even looking. he gave it back. obviously.

she leaned back, finally looking up at him properly. “nice to meet you, wroetoshaw.”

“harry,” he said again, a little too quickly. “you can—uh. call me harry.”

she smiled, lips glossy, eyes unreadable. “okay, harry.”

and just like that, he was gone. done. dead. buried. six feet under. fully fucking smitten.

from that day on, they just clicked. in a “bickering all day but also maybe sharing snacks” way. in a “she steals his hoodies and he pretends not to care” way. in a “everyone else noticed before they did” way. in a way that looked a lot like love — long before either of them would call it that.

it was just harry and y/n. y/n and harry. like it had always been them. like it would always be them.

then her youtube career really took off. people loved her. she never planned anything. just set her camera up on a pile of books, lit a candle for vibes, and started talking. about boys. about bad dates. quick grwms and girl advice. a stupid challenge or two. but they really loved her.

it didn’t take long before she had a solid fanbase. then a manager. then pr packages. then brand deals.

the modelling thing started by accident—like most things in her life.

she had posted a photo promoting her new video. that was it.

messy hair. glossy lips. stacked necklaces. low rise cargos and a white tank top. the most basic fit ever. mirror dusty. lighting mid.

someone at a beauty agency saw it, and that was it. in the blink of an eye, she was being flown to paris. then milan. then london fashion week.

one minute she was filming chaotic mukbangs on her bedroom floor — the next she was wearing silk dresses and glass heels and getting flown out for perfume launches.

suddenly, she wasn’t miniminter's sister, or the girl with good advice—she was walking for campaigns, fronting lookbooks, holding tiny designer handbags she used to manifest in her notes app. but she didn't change. not even a bit. she was still the same girl who pulled up to sidemen shoots with pizza boxes in her hand. still vlogged in her pajamas. still did football slip-n-slide challenges with the boys because it was fun.

and harry?

harry watched it all happen — quietly, protectively, helplessly in love. he was never far behind. in her vlogs. in her comments. in the background of paparazzi shots, holding her hand. in her phone, always.

because no matter how many runways she walked or editorials she booked, she always came home to him. her favourite face to see after the cameras stopped flashing.

[invincibies]

Mark Grayon — SFW headcanons.

—————————————

͜. ̣̣̥ ͜͝ ͜͝ ݃◌⑅ㅤㅤ ֺfirst ㅤpost...ㅤ ⠀꒰๑ ´` ๑꒱།໒ . . . . . .

—— author's notes. ⟢ . . . . . // // -- ok hi guys... i dont have much to rlly say but. haaayy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! pretty pls enjoy my peak little headcanons :P . . . . . . . . . . . .

mark and reader are in a established relationship. season 3 mentions || enjoy . . . . .

— Mark Grayson is unsurprisingly a really easy guy to please. {{ whilst you're trying to buy him small things; mark is bringing you home a cake from france if he's somehow gotten there during his superhero stuff... as long as its reasonably priced of course. college students don't get paid all that much... especially him. he doesn't even go to college anymore. But every small thing you give him, he cherishes it, whether it be with his stomach (meaning food) or simply putting it up next to his prized 'Seance Dog' comics and collectables. — Mark Grayson's love language is physical touch and words. {{ (as well as gifts if you squint) he is always quite the attention giver, whether it be curled up next to you whilst you're on your laptop, he is somehow always expressing his endless bounds of affection to you, hugs, kisses, subtle hand holding, the whole lot! his favourite place to kiss you is either your cheek or on the lips. he countlessly apologizes and says that he loves you when he's late to dates with you, kisses on the forehead from him to you for an extra apology are a MUST! and taking you out to burger mart whilst you eat the very few leftover pennies he had from his own mother. — Mark Grayson doesn't actually listen to music that much. {{ (self explanatory but you know...) mark was never that much into music. more of a writer/reader type of guy. of course he listened to music sometimes but not religiously like other people... but he will admit - he doesn't actually mind 'The Cranberries' that much, his favourite is 'Zombie'.

— Mark Grayson's alter ego — Invincible. {{ mark was very nervous about telling you his secret identity but he didn't want a repeat of Amber so he had told you as soon as he thought you were ready for it... which was surprisingly quick. He really thinks your the one. he planned it for weeks, should he just knock on your window one day in his Invincible suit and scare the shit out of you or does he tell you like a normal person. he told you like a normal person, no matter how fun the first option seemed. honestly, he was very surprised when you said you'd stay with him, even after he warned you of the dangers... like anissa and how she threatened to kill amber. — Mark Grayson's stress and how he deals with it. {{ honestly, mark doesn't really have the time to notice how stressed out he is until after an excruciatingly long fight — especially after Conquest. another time he noticed how stressed out he was; his eyes caught sight of an already gray hair by the age of twenty... yikes. not to mention the slight eye bags as well. he's ashamed to admit it but he tries to hide it with concealer sometimes. if mark feels a type of stress that has to be dealt with effective immediately; he usually comes to you for help or goes out on an actual walk instead of flying through the sky like he usually does. if unable to do those things; he quietly recites quotes from 'Seance Dog' to himself to relax him a bit. — Mark Grayson's brother, oliver. {{ you were the first he came to for oliver, he honestly had no idea if his mother would take oliver in especially since it was Omni-Man's kid from another planet. he voiced his struggles and you ended up helping him to tell Debbie. thank god she actually took him in. oliver asks you and mark embarrassing questions like "when are you guys getting married?" just to see you both get flushed and laugh nervously. this kid was 2 months old a week ago and suddenly he's a 12 year old actually knowing how the world worked... to an extent. later in private, mark tells oliver that he'd marry you soon... as a joke. oliver taddled on him to you a few days later. — Mark Grayson and Seance Dog. {{ he loves 'Seance Dog'. we all know this. you know this piece of literature probably as good as he does with how much he talks about it with you. he loves comic books, the comic store was like a second home to him now, he didn't even have to ask the lady at the counter for the latest issue of 'Seance Dog' once a month, she already had it out waiting for his greedy little hands. if there's a new 'Seance Dog' action figure, he's losing his mind and saving up the money to go and buy it. if he doesn't end up having enough money for it, he's looking at you like you're his little ATM. you buy it for him anyway, always. tht precious smile is irreplaceable and you needed to see it every chance you ever got with him.

ok im sorry i wanna write more desperately but its like 4 in the morning and i have school its actually ggs... i hope you enjoyed ts tho!!!! reqs open ^_^

[nonsense-is-everywhere]

LISTEN TO ME LISTEN. So Spamton. Hate to admit it. But he lays eggs and we all have to accept that. BUT. Okay in his battle the pipis’ make lil Spamtons to beat ur ass. Makes sense because his is SPAM mail. Those guys, once you interact one they repopulate like bunnies ig. We see this with the pop-up ads too. BUT TENNA HAS A PIPIS. Cannonically he has one and calls it a “her”, tries to keep her safe.

SO LIKE. Spam, it can be very targeted. What you’ve interacted with in the past, data of you that was sold off, etc etc. By himself Spamtons pipis only make mini Spams, asexual reproduction. It’s just copies of him. No data/genetics were used. But those things can hatch. All this to say, you think if Tenna’s pipis ever hatched it’d be a mix of them both. Targeting Tenna’s passion for the show biz and Spamtons. Spammy-ness… Less of Tenna’s looks because at the end of the day she is still just spam, not an actual TV, but she can have some physical TV traits, as a treat.

Like I enjoy the funni divorce fights for custody with the egg, but it’d be great if it hatched and was a lot more like Tenna than either of them expected. Also it’d be so funny because Tenna’s whole divorce trauma with the Dreemurrs. Not wanting his daughter to grow up watching her parents fight for even a second. I feel posts with the pipis overlook that if this thing hatches and she officially becomes Spamton and Tenna’s messed up daughter, Tenna would not for a second want that kid to grow up in an argumentative home. Spamton probably wouldn’t just buzz off after she hatches either, so negotiating with him is unavoidable, unless he wants this kid to be messed up further than genetics. Tenna immediately ends any arguments him and Spamton start up when near the Child.

I don’t know it’s 12 in the morning and I’m thinking about divorce and pipis.

I just can’t imagine Tenna arguing with Spamton in front of the kid. Or anywhere near the kid.

Ant Tenna the TV, Spamton the Spam mail and Adrianna the addison??? Dunno, I’m no naming expert. I mean Spamton is still an addison too but just ignore it for whatever naming scheme I’m trying to cook up.

Edit: so I made a follow up post

[shanastoryteller]

Someone posted something about Adam Milligan, and it made me think a bit, and now I'm curious- What's your opinion on the third Winchester son?

honestly i don't really have one

i kind of think the whole thing was lame lol. i didn't really feel like he had any chemistry with sam or dean and part of that i think was his awkward age. i know we don't meet the real adam until s5, but i think it's fair to assume him in s4 is a decent aproximation of him. sam was 26, dean was 30, and adam was 19 (and he was 19 when he was brought back a year later and meets 27 yo sam nad 31 yo dean). not quite old enough to feel like a peer, considering what they'd been through, but not young enough to treat like a child. adam never really fit and he never felt like their brother

i also never really got a sense that he had any sort of personality, but i do think this was all by design. the most interesting thing about adam was how sam and dean reacted to him. if anything adam exists to demonstrate how fucking weird sam and dean are. it's all we're brothers, we're family, that's why we have to do this, we're all we have. but adam's their brother, adam's their family, and he doesn't have anyone else. yes, dean goes back for him, but honestly dean would have gone back for lots of people. also, when they find adam's body, sam's the one who wants to resurrect him and dean's the one that says no. frankly, i think part of this is dean saw adam as potential competition for sam's affections. he's sam's brother, his only brother, and frankly the concept of 'brother' has been expanded and messed up by them to mean something else entirely. and trying to fold adam into that is impossible, because they have decades of growing their tree roots into the other's foundations, but i think dean finds the idea that sam was willing to try to be distateful

first adam was a foil and then he was a plot device and never at any point did i find him interesting

that said!

back when i was watching supernatural the first time around, i thought of a fic where sam is on his way to stanford and comes across adam who's running scared from the ghoul that just killed his mother. sam helps kill it, asks about his family, finds out this his brother and calls his dad in a rage. john tells him to drop the kid off at social services. sam gets mad at him about it, john retorts that he thought sam didn't think children should be raised this way anyway. and he doesn't, john's right, but that doesn't mean abandoning family. john scoffs and is like, what, you mean like you just did? don't call me about the kid again

and sam reduces his courseload and takes adam, maybe mostly because he refuses to let his dad be right about anything. sam's 19 and adam's 12 and this shouldn't fly at all, but also it's legal guardianship to his brother who wants him and and who's record and grades and history are clean and impressive enough to get him into stanford or putting him into the system where who knows what will happen to him, so with sam he goes. and adam knows about the supernatural and it killed his mother and he wants to fight it, so sam ends up raising adam to be a hunter even though he doesn't want to, trying to strike the balance he always resented dad for not giving it him and it turns out this is all hard as shit, actually

then john goes missing and dean comes to find sam but it's not just jessica in his apartment. adam's there too and insists on going on their hunt, saying john is his father too, and dean's about to blow a gasket or have a stroke or something

[friendlynaborhooddisapointment]

trying to write a oneshot where billy gets a phone (his neighbour in the condemned building he squats in gives it to him after she gets a new one) and then ends up starting a tictok account as Captain Marvel. he starts it cuz a tictok abt him got viral so he makes one to repy to it but then gets attached to the app a little (cuz he's like 12) and just continues to make them.

but suddenly i forgot about all tictok trends i could have him do . the only ones i remember are the "pass the phone to someone who" (gonna have him pass it to batman and then batman shits on him for filming a tictok in the watchtower) and the smash or pass cake. WHAT OTHER TRENDS CAN I HAVE THIS GUY DOOOO PLEASEEEEE.

things i want him to do with this acc:

when he sees ppl in shitty situations (abusive), he comments on them being like want me to beat them up for you? (? something along those lines)

dueting dance tictoks and failing really badly

making a video abt all the stray animals he visits (damian becomes an avid follower and fan after this one) and it becomes a series

an info dumb video about tigers

suspiciously helpful life hack videos that are sometimes borderline illegal

maybe a video where he goes around and interviews homeless people with stuff like hey whats ur favorite food? and supper mundane questions- want this to lead to a whole bunch of videos of Cap picking fights with people on the internet over the dignity and rights of homeless people

has a series of 'rate this parking lot' type videos but of different roof tops

Superman pissed him off so he starts a collection of interrupting and finishing Superman's fights for him (oh sorry was this your fight? rip ig u dont have to worry abt him now, see you later!) what did superman do? bro idk ill figure it out

a video taking abt the best websites to download music from for his mp3 player since a comment asks abt it when it shows up in a video (it becomes v obvious that he is broke as fuck in this video and thats all the comments focus on)

billy dueting with fanart and fan edits freaking out being like wow these r so cool!!! (he ignores all the gooner stuff eyes close do not see)

doing tictok dances with some of the homeless of facwet

ends up making a video on resources in facwet for homeless people (since some people ask for it) but they are all kinda unofficial or just survival tips, and also him dunking on some of the official ones that are kinda shady (weirdly personal advice for someone who is probably not homeless? is the vibe)

makes a video complaining abt how because of how popular it has become to pay with everything by card most people dont carry around change anymore, and because of that homeless people get a lot less money then they used too

videos where random citizens call out to him and ask questions or ask him to do random stuff (most of them start off with him about to do a video on something else then derails)

some of the JL ask to do join him on some of the tictoks so a few collabs wth them.

'how many times can i film batman without him noticing me' it gets to 2 because batman was to busy to tell him to stop both times. it ends with batman lecturing him on filming in the tower again

thats all i got for him to do. idk if i will actually write this so feel free to steal it to make your own fanfic (actually please do i hate writing). but i think it would be funny for this perceived adult to make half brainrot type content that feels weirdly natural. also the weird little hints he accidentally leaves abt his civilian life that is very concerning to everyone. no one can tell if he's a million years old or born yesterday lol.

also Captain Marvel and Superman beef pre identity reveal means everything to me. ALSO THE CAPTAIN CHILLING WITH THE HOMELESS AND BEING ACAB MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME and thats like half the reason why i want this to exist.

[astro-tag-9]

Moon signs easiest to hardest to fall in love

1- Taurus Moon: Probably has fallen in love with almost every person they’ve ever met that they ever had any interest in. Just want to love and be loved.

2- Libra Moon: Anybody who looks at them long enough they end up having affection for. Hopeless romantics at heart. Feels most at peace when they are in love.

3- Leo Moon: Their lust for somebody quickly turns into love with ease and without much thought. Hard for them to distinguish between what is real and what is in their head, but once they’ve decided they love someone it takes over their whole life.

4- Pisces Moon: They dream of love more than anybody else. They fall for the extremely simple things. They feel things on a different level than most others, and when they love it’s hard to stop. They want to believe the best in those they love.

5- Aries Moon: On the surface they can be a tough nut to crack open, however their pure devotion in love is hard to shake. Love is something they are completely passionate about and it consumes them almost every time. Love is always a challenge that they choose to fight for everytime. Nobody defends their love quite like this moon sign.

6- Scorpio Moon: Become completely all in when they fall in love. Their natural charisma and deep nature draws in more than they would like sometimes, but typically will only fall in love 3 times in life. Their first love they will probably always feel like they ruined, their second is usually something that wasn’t met both ways, but their third and final love is the one that they make a point to get just right.

7- Virgo Moon: They are all about the practical aspects of love. The mentally stimulating type of love. They fall for the conversations and general Witt if someone more so amongst anything else. They are a gentle lover, and do not like to fight or argue much. They are most at peace in love when they can trust somebody enough to turn off the noise in their mind, and be present in the simple pleasures of life.

8- Sagittarius Moon: They want a love that is spontaneous and adventurous. Nothing really routine. They want somebody that has no set comfort zone and will feel most at home with them when they are the farthest away from it. Think of it almost as a gypsy type of love. They want a love that will never try to place them into a box. Can be hard to come by, but the impulse passion is what will get them the most.

9- Cancer Moon: Lower than you may expect, however it is simply because they are so selective on WHO gets their love. They standards that must be met before they decide to take the leap and jump in. Their symbol is a crab, therefore they can come off as moody even when they have the best intentions. They have 0 interest in somebody unless they are their best self. Nobody gets within an inch of hurting those they love without them spotting it from a mile away.

10- Gemini Moon: They fall in love, but keep a level head while they do. They can love somebody and not be with them due to outside circumstances. They tend to not realize they love until the damnage is already done. They are best at finding love when they are not looking for it, and have a hard time forgiving themselves for hurting somebody who loved them. They may fall in love at a younger age, and then spend the rest of their life trying to find them in every other person they meet.

11- Capricorn Moon: Everything is a test to them. They are not very good at expressing how they actually feel about someone, because they feel when they show their feelings they are likely to be let down. If they are buying you things they think you need, giving you advice without you asking, and wanting to be apart of your everyday life, chances are they love you. It just takes a lot for them to actually be vulnerable enough to say it, but will do anything to keep it.

12- Aquarius Moon: These people have little to no clue (usually) how to act in love, that they end up actually ignoring you most of the time. But once they are in love, they pretty much cut everybody else out of their priorities and make you their main person. Typically they are people that can only really handle having up to 2 friends at once anyway. They only really fall in love once in their life, and that’s it. Love is never a priority unless the other person makes it one.

[aevellewritessometimes]

Touchstarved NSFW Headcanons

Just some general NSFW HCs for the main cast (because Elyon and Sen are both enigmas to me)

I'm just going to preface this by saying that @/creepsterdreams just happened to hit the nail right on the head with what I was thinking. Unrealated note, y'all should check out their work if you ever get the chance :)

Content Warnings: Mildly unconventional kinks? (we don' kinkshame here though), blatant Vere favoritism, may or may not be OOC, this whole thing was written by an aspec person, most of this was written at 12 am while sleepy

Edit: I took the opportunity to try and fix some previously missed typos, and after I finished I found out that the Pope fucking died. Happy Easter!

Word Count: 2,010

MINORS DNI

KURAS

Alignment: Vers + Switch

Kinks: Body worship (giving), cockwarming, lingerie, soft sex, masochism

Due to his height, he's more used to domming and/or topping by default, but he doesn't really have anything against being the submissive one

That being said, I get masochist vibes from him. He's usually good at not showing that side of him, but it's also not all that hard to get him to show it

Not too apposed to being on the receiving end of body worship, but just feels weirdly guilty about it

^ Combining body worship with his masochistic tendencies could potentially get him to cry, which is otherwise difficult because I feel like he has really high endurance

Soft dom/service top vibes

Has a much larger lingerie collection than one would expect

^ It's not crazy large or anything, it's just that most people wouldn't expect him to have one to begin with

I don't know if he needs to sleep at all, but in a situation where both he and his partner are in the mood but his partner is too tired to actually have sex with him, he'd be very open to just cockwarming either until they fall asleep or they get riled up

Due to him disliking "difficult patients," I feel like an excessive amount of bratiness would be a bit of a turnoff for him

Would absolutely be the type to light candles to set the mood

(^ Don't ask me about what types/scents; I don't use candles often enough to give you a good answer)

Corruption kink is also a turnoff for him as of "present day." However, I do see a chance of this changing depending on how his endings alter his character by the end of the game

Knows how to make his own lube and protection/contraceptives and is a God at aftercare

LEANDER

Alignment: Switch + Vers

Kinks: Bondage (domming + subbing), praise (giving + receiving), degradation (mostly receiving), temperature play, semi-public sex, aphrodisiacs, corruption kink

Generally prefers subbing, but there are a few scenarios where he'd rather dom

^ Those scenarios can range from anywhere between specific kinks to who he's sleeping with

Would be the type to swap roles mid-sex if that's what he and his partner both want

Is very good at tying and untying knots

^ Has once tried to use his magic for bondage purposes, but it turned out to be much more flammable than anticipated. Kuras still gives him shit for that time he and his friend had to rush to the clinic at one in the morning due to third degree burns

Make him do some honor bondage if you really wanna torture him

Has tried cockwarming on multiple occasions; never has the patience to stay still for very long

Would generally be willing to degrade his partner if that's what they're into, but his overall comfort with doing so entirely depends on his relationship with them outside of sex

Would be the type to mix praise and degradation in the same sentence

Also gives me masochist vibes, but is much more willing to admit it than Kuras

^ Doesn't really outright say it, but also doesn't put too much effort into hiding it

Probably has a lower back tattoo

The pierced nipples are canon in my mind, fight me

If his partner is someone he's trying to keep close (*cough* MC *cough*) then he's definitely going to bring out the subtle corruption kink

^ Doesn't matter if he's the dom or sub, one way or another he's going to figure out how to corrupt them

Knows how to make his own aphrodisiacs. Shockingly enough, he doesn't do anything crazy with them, but nobody really trusts him enough to test that out (except for Ais that one time)

^ Also knows how to make his own contraceptives. They're effective but they taste weird. Has tried and frequently failed to make his own lube; it always turns out concerningly chunky

Has a very expensive toy collection

VERE

Alignment: Circumstantial

Kinks: Predator/prey roleplay (theoretically), corruption kink, hypnosis (domming), pet play (domming), degredation (mostly giving), praise (mostly recieving), vocalness, bloodplay, lingerie, orgasm control (domming + subbing), dacryphilia, sensory deprivation, biting, sadomasochism, breeding (occasional)

His alignment is fully dependent of his relationship with his partner outside of sex

^ Casual fling? Definitely a dom, most likely a top. Close friend/romantic partner? Vers switch who prefers to dom

Enjoys the idea of predator/prey roleplay, but Eridia is just too crowded with people and Soulless for him to indulge in it as much as he'd like

^ Sure, both situations would be easy for him to handle, but having to suddenly halt everything to disembowel something/someone just ruins the mood, especially if it ends up putting his partner in danger

Very prevalent corruption kink. Something something false idol stuff

^ He doesn't care much about the concept of virginity, but if his partner is 1) someone he actually gives a fuck about and 2) a virgin, then he's definitely going to make something out of it for the sake of said corruption kink

Hypnosis and pet play are the two scenarios that he is strictly the dom for when they come up; both kinks spawning from the fact that he, who was once revered as a god, has been brought down to be something lesser than what he probably once considered as pawns means that he takes great pleasure in seeing someone being so willing to allow themself to become something lesser just for the sake of worshiping him, even if it's only temporary

^ Also, I feel like Vere being able to hypnotize people is just canon. Not to start theory posting, but given that the eyes for his monster silhouette look almost like spirals if you squint, his voice was described as "so supple I could slip into it" (or something along those lines), and there's two scenes where he seems to mess with the shadows to keep MC from looking anywhere except directly into his eyes… yeah this guy has to at least know how to hypnotize people, if he doesn't have some kind of hypnosis-based powers

Not necessarily apposed to dishing out praise, he's just more of an "actions over words" type and generally prefers to be on the receiving end

^ If the praise feels condescending and/or overly sappy it will just end up being a turnoff

^^ Despises the phrase "good boy" being used on him

Is willing to be degraded, but saying the wrong thing on the wrong day is a very easy way to damage your relationship with him

^ It is also possible for him to say the wrong thing on the wrong day as well. Honestly, I think it could be a very likely scenario

Knows he looks good in blood, but also likes seeing his partner in blood when given the option

Is the one with the truly impressive lingerie collection, although he doesn't actually have many toys

^ Does own some absurdly expensive lube though

Two quick facts about foxes: they're very vocal when having sex and they're the most active during winter

I imagine that Vere, no matter his role or position, is vocal in some way, shape, or form; whether it be crying or moaning or talking or even screaming

The little winter tidbit makes me think that Vere becomes a bit more sadistic and significantly hornier during the winter months; sees it as a great way to keep warm blow off some steam while waiting for the horrid season to come to an end

^ Temporarily develops a breeding kink during this time, but it goes away as the snow starts melting

^^ If he's closer with his partner in this circumstance, he would absolutely steal some contraceptives from Kuras for his partner if they were to be needed. Yes, he knows they could just ask and get it for free, but why skip out on the opportunity to be a thorn in the doctor's side?

Loves making his partner scream

Always leaves at least one bite mark for his partners to remember him by

^ The amount left and the placement depends on his level of closeness outside of sex

Overall enjoys most forms of power play, but he needs to be in a specific mindset to willingly be the submissive one'

^ Doesn't see the appeal in age play, though. Like, at all. Hard no for him

AIS

Alignment: Vers + Switch

Kinks: Brat taming (domming + subbing), sadomasochism, voyeurism (?), intox kink, bloodplay, choking (domming), shibari (domming + subbing), biting (giving + receiving), dacryphilia, orgasm control (domming + subbing), size kink

First thing's first; the groupmind may or may not be a potential factor for his sex life, depending on how exactly it works

^ For instance, if Ocudeus or the other groupmind members are able to. Like. Perceive things from Ais's perspective, then voyeurism is going to be an aspect of his sex life and there's little he can do about it

Moving on: also generally doms by default; partially due to his size, but also because he's the type to test if whoever's trying to dom him is actually assertive enough to do so

^ Hence why he's such a (literally) massive brat

Judging by how he feels about MC's and Vere's shitty personalities, him being into brats is just a given

There's also some subtle corruption kink going on, but unlike in Vere and Leander's case, it's not intentional on his end

Slightly prefers being bitten over biting his partner

Strongly prefers drug intox over alcohol intox when it comes to intox play

Prefers shibari over regular bondage because he's a fan of the patterns

^ Oddly enough, he isn't that big of a lingerie fan; he doesn't have anything against it, he just prefers full nudity

Impact play is a strong turnoff for him, though most other forms of pain play are generally on the table for him

Choking isn't something he indulges in often, partially because he doesn't like being choked and partially because he is very aware of his own strength; won't even make an attempt if he's having angry sex

Better at aftercare than most people tend to expect

MHIN

Alignment: Circumstantial

Kinks: Size kink (domming), predator/prey play (domming; deeply internalized), knife play (domming), bondage (domming + subbing), honor bondage (subbing), hypnosis (subbing), brat taming (domming), overstim (subbing), soft sex

Wouldn't sub for a fling. They also wouldn't want to bottom for a fling, either; nor would they want to bring any strong kinks into bed for them

If their partner is someone they trust, then they would honestly much rather be the submissive one

They've stumbled across topics such as hypnosis or predator/prey kinks in books, but they've never actually tried them in real life, despite both topics peaking their interest

^ Due to recent circumstances, they actually feel quite guilty about having a predator/prey kink these days, rather than just feeling a bit embarrassed

Enjoys domming a partner who is shorter than them, really enjoys domming a partner who is taller than them

Finds the presence of ropes oddly comforting, but also enjoys testing their own patience with honor bondage

As much as they like control, allowing someone else to take the reins so that they can take a break is just as pleasurable for them

^ Sometimes a bitch just needs to shut down their brain for a bit

Isn't really a fan of knife play in the leaving marks/drawing blood way, but they do like just lightly dragging a knife across their partner's body

Another one who knows how to make protection/contraceptives, but doesn't know how to make effective lube

[alexiethymia]

MaoMao's Way of Affection

[spoilers up until LN 12 and WN 10 so read at your own risk]

After such a long time, we finally get a hint of reciprocation when even without orders or prompting, it's MaoMao herself who seeks out Jinshi after the harrowing ordeal she went through.

I'm not sure how the WN will differ from the LN but her words with how she describes Jinshi's arms around her, "heavy but not immoveable" and Jinshi asking her to make him let her go and eventually opting not such that she ends up falling asleep in his arms actually perfectly describes their relationship.

Despite their problems, I do adore this relationship. On the one hand, you have Jinshi who ends up falling for someone who cares not a whit for his appearance. MaoMao is actually the perfect person for Jinshi to fall in love with because of his complex. Should he succeed, he can be assured that his looks had nothing to do with it. For the first time in his life, Jinshi can fight for something with his own above average, but not excellent capabilities.

And tropey as it is, I think MaoMao does have a soft spot for that slightly pathetic part of Jinshi. Honestly, to compare him to the person she respects most in the whole world? A daddy's girl through and through. In other words, MaoMao, even as she denies it, is not impenetrable to that earnest side of Jinshi and because of that, even as she might snark and say she's just following orders, she can't help but be his support - a useful tool rather than a useless burden.

I love how the both of them mature and progress and how the relationship reflects that. As compared to that forceful scene back in LN5, it's actually this innocent scene that cements the progress they've made and that they're slowly meeting each other halfway. Jinshi tries to restrain himself, and MaoMao, thanks to Chue, slowly stops trying to hide behind that convenient excuse.

Because the thing is, MaoMao is a hypocrite. In the same way, she rebukes Jinshi for not being clear, she also gets to hide behind vague half-truths. Why not say no once and for all? "I don't want to be your wife." Is it just because he's the Imperial Brother? Compare and contrast how she treats Grand Marshall Kan for example. And even if he is the Imperial Brother, MaoMao knows in her heart of hearts that Jinshi wouldn't ever punish her for rejecting him. She knows, after everything, that he just isn't that kind of person (the certainty that he wouldn't ever be involved in any assassination plots, the almost unconscious instinct to prevent something she knows Jinshi wouldn't want even if it might be for the good of the country or for her own safety as long as she plays dumb). I really do love how like Suiren, MaoMao is his ally. (No wonder mother-in-law Suiren approves.)

Isn't it more painful - for Jinshi - and more troublesome - for her - to continue to have this hanging between them? But MaoMao is only human. There are things she knows would be the best course of action as long as she operated solely on rationality, but unexpectedly, Jinshi - despite not knowing it - brings out that irrational part of her. She knows it would have been in her best interest (if her best interest truly was to escape the marriage) to just let Jinshi continue being vague, to not put a name to his intentions, she later realizes that this is Jinshi's own consideration for her, but her true emotions push forth. She knows it - what Jinshi feels for her, compares it to a lovestruck patron, so what gain does she get from hearing it verbalized out loud?

She struggles with his special consideration for her, the proof of deeper feelings, in his words and actions. I think she would be able to justify it in her mind and accept being his wife if she knew it was only because she was a useful tool. Because if so, then she could also justify it to herself that she was staying with him only because he was useful, that it was solely on the basis of reciprocity.

I mean the reality of the world they live in is that it's not a place to cultivate love. Marriages are political more often than not. Within MaoMao's way of looking at things, a marriage of convenience might have been more palatable. For Jinshi's part, I can see him being ready to accept that even if MaoMao does accept his proposal, she would marry him while not being in love with him. On the flip side, I think part of his strong motivation to break away from the Imperial family would be to remove, without a doubt, from MaoMao's mind that she would be punished for rejecting him since he would no longer have that power. In other words, part of Jinshi is ready for MaoMao to reject him but he wants it to be solely her choice. In other words, he would also want her to give it to him straight just like she demanded he do for her.

Speaking of special consideration, it is hard to say whether MaoMao's actions towards Jinshi are those she would do for any other patient (since she's actually softer than she gives herself credit for), but the things she does without orders are telling - like stroking his hair while putting him to sleep, kissing his cheek, ingesting something she knows she's allergic to without his knowledge for a plan to sniff out his enemies (pity this didn't make it to the LN), getting mad that his accomplishments were getting stolen from him despite him not caring about it, and glaringly - attempting to break a taboo the person she respects most in the world imposed on her, just so she can better take care of Jinshi. For all that MaoMao is comfortable in her place in the world and doesn't want to venture out of her comfort zone, calling it too troublesome, she does exceed a lot of her limits - true because of that unexpectedly strong sense of duty - but also because of or for Jinshi.

MaoMao acknowledges to herself at this point that no other person besides Jinshi can give her the same comfort. She does want to have a child someday, if only for the experience of giving birth. It may not be a burning passion, this may not be enough for her to call it love, but I can also see a scenario where she accepts Jinshi because he's the only one she would be comfortable with so that she can give birth. In other words, another convenient excuse. But conversely, even after succeeding in having MaoMao for a wife, I can see Jinshi still pushing because for once in his life he can fight his hardest and win or fail on his own merits and no one else's, and also simply put, he loves her and so he would want her to love him back. Even if it isn't the norm in the world they live in. He'd still want to continue fighting for that elusive flower. A perfect push and pull. In other words, it's up to them how they decide to meet each other half way. And I'm excited to see what the future holds for them.

[team7-headquarter]

I genuinely think any ship within the og Team 7 students would make sense. There're 0 reasons to fight about it, they're all just as justified.

Naruto was obsessed for yeeeeeaaaars with his teammates. He looked at them like they hung the moon and the stars in the sky for him. Sasuke and Sakura were the only boy and girl on Earth, lol.

Sasuke and Sakura were used to being cruel to put some distance between them and the world. Defense mechanism or not, Naruto was maybe the only person in the entire world that would never eat that up. He knew feeling lonely, he knew being hurt, he knew to feel useless... Fuck that, for him, there would never be as someone as awesome as his teammates.

His most important promise in life was to save Sasuke, for both his, Sakura's and his own sake.

In return, Sasuke and Sakura would never shut up about him either. His their saviour, their hero, their sun and the boy fills their lives with joy.

That's why any ship with him works!

For Sakura, it's that there was textual romantic tension with both of them for the entire series. Their chemistry and backstory were intentionally written. That Kishimoto decided on the canon ships in the end, okay, but any of them could have worked. If you can't feel the love between them, blame the writing and not the characters, 'cause it was clear that Kishimoto wanted people to think of them as a love triangle for some time.

Since the genin days, she was their it girl. No one touches Sakura, no one hurts Sakura, blah blah blah. In exchange, even when she wasn't strong enough, she'd use herself as a shield for them. It makes no sense, but she'd jump between any attack and them at any moment. She would run to them when they have lost their mind, not even scared of them as much as she was scared for them.

She defended both of them when other people criticized them. She also lost faith and tried to manipulate them or kill them at some point out of pure desperation of keeping one of them alive. She was the one left behind time and time again, they are her whole reason to be who she is and to be a medic nin. All she ever wanted was to walk alongside them, not behind them.

Again, it works.

With Sasuke is so easy.

Naruto and Sakura were obsessed with him to the point of following him to the literal almost end of the world. The definition of hatred being actually love, because they'd be at each other's throats about it. Their goal in life? Sasuke. The person they cried about at night? Sasuke. What would they wish upon a star? For Sasuke to come back.

And Sasuke couldn't stop thinking about them. In his mind, they were always there. They'd follow him, almost haunt him. They were annoying and rude and ignorant, they were stupid, weak even, he loved them so much that he convinced himself he needed to kill them, cut their bonds.

They harbor endless love for him and with time, he came to understand that's just how they were and accept it.

The loyal 12 years old that would rather take the attacks himself than let his teammates be in any type of danger, did a full cycle and came to be the devoted man that vowed to atone for his mistakes and return to them one day.

If they gave themselves freely to him and almost without a reason, Sasuke gave himself back with all the reasons in the world.

Do I even have to explain why narusasusaku works too or—????

Anyway.

I could never fight over what's the better ship when I know they are all insane about each other.

[miley1442111]

(part 2) choices and chances- art donaldson

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: the last time you're second-place to tashi

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: angst, feelings of disappointment, hurt, etc. +

PART 2 of 12

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Art ran through the science building, tennis bag swinging from his back as he raced through students to get to you. Patrick was hot on his heels, shouting ‘where are you going?’ and ‘can you slow down?!’. 

Art did not slow down. Art kept running. 

He knew this was his last and final chance, that if he didn’t make it to this, he would lose you for good. He was still sweaty from a warm-up session with Tashi 10 minutes ago, his hat was practically falling off his head but he couldn’t have cared less. 

As he came to a halting stop outside the lab you were having an exam in, his heart dropped when he saw the lights off and the chairs empty. He checked the time, 2:48pm. Your exam finished at 2:30, right?

Art opened your texts and scrolled back to the text in which you had told him about the date of your final exam, asking him to pick you up at 2:00pm. 

“Fuck!” Art shouted, gaining many stares from the students around him. He quickly dialled your number (he had learnt it by heart) only to be met with an automated voice telling him that his number was blocked. “Fuck!” 

His tennis bag was swung to the floor and he sat against the wall, anger and shame eating at him. You had a match against Tashi and a final science lab today, and he was too busy with Tashi, helping her warm up when he should've been with you. 

“Hey, at least you’re off the hook,” Patrick patted him on the shoulder and Art blew up. 

“I don’t want to be off the hook! I want her to be angry with me, I want her to see me, to want to see me! I want her to fight with me, because that’s all we fucking do nowdays and it’s all my fucking fault! Once again, I ruined the best chance I’ve ever had with tennis!” He shouted, standing up tall in front of Patrick. “And yes, Patrick, I’m aware that you’re dating Tashi and that you think I’m jealous, well I’m fucking not! I just want my girlfriend to still want to be my girlfriend! My Y/n to still be my Y/n! So don’t come to me every fucking time Tashi pisses you off, telling me that ‘I can have her’ because I don’t fucking want her!”

Patrick sat there stunned. Art had never raised his voice at him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find my girlfriend,” Art said after gaining his composure once more, and starting to walk down the hall. 

“Ex-girlfriend!” Patrick shouted after him, rubbing salt in the wound. Art flipped him his middle finger, and set off to find you.

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Art didn’t find you before the match, but he was sitting beside an upset Patrick. 

You came out in your Nike tennis outfit, Tashi in her Adidas, and the match began. 

What ensued was real tennis. Tashi was talented, yes. But you, you were on fire. You beat Tashi Duncan. You actually beat Tashi Duncan. 

Art couldn’t have been more proud. Or worried. 

What if this actually was his last chance and he blew it on Tashi?

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He knocked on your dorm door with a bunch of lilies in his hand, your favourite. He had a whole plan, he would apologise, grovel, congratulate, then fuck you. Then, he’d spend all weekend with you and go into San Francisco for a city break. 

You opened the door wearing one of his sweaters, a sleepy, but upset look in your eyes. “What?”

“Can we talk?” He asked, a smile on his face at your beautiful and drowsy state. 

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes and stepped outside instead of letting him in. Odd. 

“I’m so sorry, I thought that the final ended at 2:30 and when I got there you were gone-”

“What time did you get there?” You asked, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“2:30?” he lied. 

“No you didn’t. I waited until 2:40 for you Art, fucking praying you would show up, don’t lie to me.”

Art sighed. “I’m sorry baby.”

“Look Art, I’m getting really tired of being second place to everyone, sorry- to Tashi, in your life so please just let me go,” you asked. “Now, I would really like to get back into my dorm.”

Art knew he had to fight for you. “Please, I wanted to make it up to you, I thought he could go to San-Fran this weekend, just you and me, no tennis, no distractions.”

“I have a match this weekend Art,” you rolled your eyes and Art sighed, realising he’d forgotten. “Y’know, the one you promised me you’d be at so you could meet my parents?”

“Yes of course, you know I’ll be there, I meant after we could go to San-Fran,” he smiled, his hands on your hips. 

“Don’t bother coming, we’re done,” you shoved his hands off your body and walked back to your door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very hot guy from my science class who would like to fuck me again, so I’ll see you around Arthur.”

You slammed the door in his face and his heart broke, he had lost you. 

He had made his choices, and lost all of his chances.

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navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

PART 3: choices and meetings

art donaldson masterlist :)

[alexanderwales]

Thoughts on Chilli, Northen Caves, and When I Win? Personally they're probably my favorite things on the whole list, but I feel like they never got as big a reception as a bunch of the other stuff. :(

The Northern Caves: I really really loved the first 80% of so of this. I grew up with forums and their particulars, the ways in which you'd come to know the personalities, and how the superfans would get into these long, drawn out debates that were steeped in the prior histories of conversations. There's something really magical about how TNC does this, and the "found media" elements work really well. It reminded me of the better parts of House of Leaves, I guess, and was also just hugely nostalgic (since I was in high school during the Forum Years). The philosophical stuff was also great, and the series they were reading felt rich, and nost is a great writer with wonderful prose. And then I just did not enjoy the ending at all. I think that in spite of that, I recommend it highly, and think it's one of the things on the webfic bingo card that's most worth reading.

Chili and the Chocolate Factory: I adored this one from start to finish, and also Dahl was one of the authors whose works I was steeped in growing up and also at the time it was coming out I was rereading a lot of Dahl's books with my son and also there are a few references to me and my discord server within the work. So I'm biased heavily in favor of this one, but I also also think that it's got this crazy energy to it, an insane density of ideas and weird things, and a wonderful sense of humor. Remy would probably hate to hear me say this, but I think he's one of the best writers I know. It's really really rare for me to read something and have so many individual pieces of it stick with me. I do wish that it were easier to get people on board with, because I have no clue how to pitch it to prospective readers.

When I Win: A few things here: I am just not a Pokemon guy. Red and Blue came out in 1998, when I was 12 years old, and everyone at my school was obsessed with it, and I just did not get into it, and had to suffer through a lot of Pokemon conversations I wasn't interested in. It's like the opposite of FOMO, then you wish that everyone would shut up about this thing you're "missing out" on. So whenever I read Pokemon fic, it's an uphill battle to care about the core thing, and I have enough Pokemon knowledge to get by, but sometimes it'll end up feeling like homework if I have to look up references or jokes or just understand things. Another thing is, I think Bavitz and I have very different tastes in character dialogue. I noticed this with Cockatiel x Chameleon too, and I suspect that when I get around to Bavitz's other stuff I'll see it there too. The differences in speech seem really exaggerated to me, blown out of proportion, idiolects heightened, and I think I've gotten in disagreements with people over whether this is actually true or not, but it's definitely how it feels to me. I found Cely in particular to be fairly grating whenever she spoke. This is a personal preference thing, and I don't know how much it generalizes to other people; I'm not sure that I've seen anyone else mention it, but I also haven't read a bunch of reviews.

So with that said, Bavitz is a skilled author who goes into a story with Something to Say, who milks the premise and theme for what it's worth, and brings a literary sense to his works. The fight scenes are really well done, even for someone like me who is not a Pokemon guy. There's a lot that I found interesting about competition and stagnation, the capture of competitive drive. Bavitz likes to think about the end of history a lot, and it shows here. It's thankfully a concept that I find interesting. I enjoyed the core relationship of Cely and Toril, it's a good, interesting dynamic. Without spoiling it, the ending worked well for me. Well worth reading.

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

Know what? I'm gonna try throwing my hat into the ring for Danny Phantom.

I accidentally electrocuted myself as a kid and never told anybody- nothing serious, I grabbed the three exposed prongs of a half plugged in laptop charger in the middle of the night and didn't want to get in trouble since nobody else was awake. Even if it isn't fatal, it's terrifying and your vision completely blacks out and your arm tingles for days afterwards, and for the whole day after you got shocked your fingers on the hand that grabbed the prongs will randomly twitch, open or close or jerk to the side. You have no control, it's like when the doctor hits your knee to check your reflexes.

Now, from what I can tell from the scene where Danny went ghost for the first time, he really was electrocuted. From what I can tell, his ghost and human halves seem kinda separate- not completely, but the change is there. Where is this going?

Danny never told anyone about the accident- not anybody that could help him, anyways. I propose that, since he never got medical treatment or physical/occupational therapy after the accident, his motor function deteriorates over time.

More specifically, his small motor function is effected- I will be using personal experience in this section, since my small motor skills were so bad I couldn't use zippers or tie my shoes until I was 12, but I'll try putting things in reverse.

Danny starts fumbling with tying his shoes, laughing it off as being tired. Buttons take a few minuets, and even snap buttons become a bit hard. Odd, mildly confusing, but nothing to be concerned about. Then it progresses. He can't properly use tools anymore, it's like nothing is ever precise enough, everything takes a few tries to get it right. His fingers are fumbling everything, his handwriting turns to chickenscratch that not even he can read at times, he struggles to comb his hair because it's hard to coordinate movements, his back teeth are always textured because he struggles to brush his teeth and he can't really reach the back ones properly anymore.

I don't know if this is connected to small motor or not, but he starts dragging his feet and the toes of his shoes wear out quicker because walking while lifting his feet any higher doesn't feel right. This was something I had fixed during occupational therapy, but I don't know if it was just me or not.

Eventually, it becomes sunlight-on-clean-pact-snow levels of blindingly obvious that something is incredibly wrong. Danny's hair is knotted and half-matted because he is unable to brush it properly, when he smiles there is plaque on some parts of his teeth and not others, he always wears slip-on shoes or his laced shoes are always untied, buttons always seem like they could unslip because they're only half-buttoned, zippers in his jackets getting stuck in shirts and he doesn't bother to fix it, teachers can no longer read his assignments and his friends can't read his notes. Nobody can ignore it, but nobody knows how to help when Danny gets so clearly frustrated when he has to do something with his hands and it just doesn't work. It seems like he suddenly developed a hole in his lip, since he always had to lean far over his bowl or plate to not end up on food with his shirt because his hands can't hold silverware steady.

But Phantom? None of those issues. He became a ghost after being electrocuted, of course. Why would there be damage from the initial creation of this half? It could be why he ends up enjoying fighting the ghosts, his hands actually work with him instead of against him.

Feel free to take this idea and do what you want with it, I really liked writing this!

Also if you use this for a fic, please comment the link if possible, I wanna see all the ways people use this :)

Edit: So I started a mini-series about this. Is it any good? Probably not, but writing makes me happy.

Noticed But Hoping For The Best