whynot: baseball: he's my boy (batterymates)
Baseball's back! Well, kind of, spring training and such. After the white water rapids of hockey, baseball feels like slipping into a warm bath. I had the baseball game on the other day as I twiddled on the computer and it felt like having a screensaver on the TV. ALL MY FAVORITE BASEBALL BABIES WERE ON BASE WHEN PEDEY BROUGHT THEM HOME WITH A GRAND SLAM, so that's nice. Less nice: Bruins in a shootout.

flashficlet: Xander/Christian; trying to cover 3 languages in English )

So anyway. Man, I thought I loved the Krejci line, and I do, but the Spooner line is EXCITING and FUN, and admittedly a lot of that is David Pastrnak backchecking from his knees or dancing his way through a 1-on-3 for a shot on goal, BUT also seeing Ryan Spooner flourish and Looch basically adopting them as his tiny sons. They are always talking to each other on the bench, and Spooner may be the center, but the Looch is the one mentoring it out of him and Pastrnak is the one being his knight. SPOONER, LITTLE KING. Ryan Spooner with the Allen Webster face because he always looks kinda anxious all the time, like, it's his resting face or something.

notfic, Spooner/Pastrnak ramblings )
whynot: Pineapple Express: i'm hungry (fuck yeah fruit roll-ups)
- At first I thought it was Scott and Derek, but no. Even better, it's SID AND GENO IN WEREWOLF AU HOCKEY PHOTO BOMB. Check out the rest of her art, folks; it's entirely delightful.

- You guys know that tumblr college hockey comic, Check Please? Mentally I've cast Torey Krug as Eric Bittle and Sasha Kostrov from Junior League as Jack Zimmerman. Greenberg of Teen Wolf is, of course, the goalie.

- Once more, fell down a Bruins fandom rabbit hole yesterday and ended up in 2012 again, and it's... so fascinating, like people making posts like "Marchand's starting to get a lot of hate from around the league..." lololololol THE BECOMING~ But also cute posts about how in love the whole Bergeron line is with each other. This is back from before the full extent of Tim Thomas's douchery was exposed, so people were still fond of him.

- broons baseball au broons baesball au bruins baseblall au bruisn baseblla. Ugh, someday. SOMEDAY.

- But despite all the fic ideas both new and usual flying around, I should batten down the hatches on my exchange fic. I wrote ~400 words of it last night, so I'm almost halfway to the minimum word count. Part of me is all "LET IT SPRAWL, MAKE A MINIBANG" but honestly, figuring out the fic has been the sprawling minibang part, so.
whynot: Merlin: the adventures of angel and katie (queens of albion)
The shock has worn away and I'm fuzzy on a couple of beers, and now the nagging doubt settles. Krejci's injured again. We got a call-up playing center in his place. Granted, the Spooner line turned out to be effective tonight. And hey, Ferlin got his first point, and Bart and Caron played like they were determined to prove people wrong. But was Chicago the last hurrah before the long dark teatime of the soul? The Bruins haven't really proved themselves to be a durable team this season.

I missed the Bergeron goal because I was trying to figure out which channel it was on gdi NBC, but the Vines showed up soon enough. I watched it and my heart pretty much turned into the :') emoticon. Marchand to Smith to Bergeron. Marchand with the nice play to Smith, who has been struggling of late, who has been shuffled up and down the lines, who couldn't even look happy when he finally broke his scoring drought in Edmonton because it had been too long. He just looked hunted. But then the feed to Bergeron, and then the goal. This stupid fucking line. This king and his lionhearts. I hate them.

And then Smith got a goal, too! So that was nice.

Tuuka's losing it, though.

I got my hockeyexchange assignment! I'm very happy with it.

Also, in other Bruins stuff, can we talk about this? And how Dougie is all, "Wow, there is a lot of touching right now, I better put my hands in my pockets so I don't... touc...h...stuff........" It's getting hot in hurr. IDK DUDES THEY ARE ALL SO FOND OF PASTA AND IT IS GIVING ME ALL THE FEELS. #tbt to this dumb shit. Krug couldn't even stay upright and crashed into him in his rush. bb that is no helping way, but we can appreciate your intent.

do you ever cry

malcolm notfic feat. just a wee linguini )
whynot: hockey: stay warm in the wintertime (first line)
ALL THE PIECES OF MY HEART. Pasta goes down on the high-stick and Krug literally falls over to get to him. GET THESE FEELINGS AWAY FROM ME. And here's Kells dadding it up. Everybody goes into Mama Bear mode for the kid.

In other news, my attention was brought to this Marchand/Seguin prompt and now I am DESTROYED. WHO ARE YOU, MARCHAND/SEGUIN ANON? LET'S BE FRIENDS.

He doesn't care who knows. )
whynot: hockey: stay warm in the wintertime (first line)
I've got attempts at Marchand/Seguin fic scattered all over my laptop, in like three-sentence increments. I don't have the attention span right now to write something longer and more cohesive.

stuff i want in a bos@dal brad/tyler fic: an outline )
whynot: Once Upon a Time in Mexico: malaguena salerosa (up in lights)
The prompt on fan-flashworks@LJ is 'burn' and maybe that's a good thing for someone who is suddenly seized by a deep desire for Seguin/Marchand fic because there's a Stars-Bruins game next week hahahahahahdjkshafsjklfjsd

google image search, what even )

I. waNT IT. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH
whynot: Where's Waldo: je suis perdu (que hora son mi corazón)
Getting kicked in the teeth for a wild card spot is no way to be. )

lol, idk, sometimes my post-game analysis is just fic that goes nowhere. Say if this is a 'verse or a timeline, then next time I can write about the blowjobs that I think this ficlet meant to get to. EXPRESS YOURSELF. Try it, NESN. Spice up your overtime!

Speaking of which, the internet has discovered Rob Gronkwski erotica on Amazon. It is called A Gronking to Remember, and it gives me hope. If someone can publish "do to me what Gronk does to a football" and make money off of it, then there is hope for me. Plus, a part of me kinda hopes that Gronk wrote (dictated?) this as an elaborate prank and is giggling to himself as Boston sports internet goes belly-up.

Unrelatedly, do you guys read Lackadaisy? Because I am in a glass case of emotion re: Viktor and Mordecai and I must scream.
whynot: etc: excuses, excuses (express yourself)
This weekend was the first time the band practiced without special guests. It's been a veritable parade of relatives and high-school friends, and on Friday night, after Jack and I wound our way back from the Cape in a new car we bought from a little old lady on the cheap ("just drove it to church and back on Sundays", and the dome lights don't work), the three of us coalesced together again. Jason, Jack, and me - half-ragged hypostases, triune god of going nowhere fast. Here we are again, we said to each other. If ever I end up waking up grimy-eyed at 5 AM in the backseat of a car speeding across the southwestern desert, pursued by the law, I have no doubt that Jack's gonna be the one behind the wheel and Jason will be riding shotgun. They'll be arguing the details of a decade-old memory, what happened back in high school, that one time in Mr. O'Brian's class. Something completely innocuous. Cans of Red Bull in the footwell, and the constant battle to quit cigarettes currently put on hold.

We are, I suspect, becoming a little codependent. Are we musicians who just get fucked up? Or are we fuck-ups who like playing music? We call it band practice but we never practice for anything. We're not pursuing gigs, not even open mics. Come weekend nights, we're squeezed into the guest bedroom tangled up in each other's wires, two beers in and singing other people's heartbreak. Every so often, we remind ourselves that we're better than this. The sentiment never lasts, but the inertia does.

It was the three of us again this weekend and we had been waiting for it, it's so easy, litany of things we can sing in our sleep, and all we want is easy. Let's play this song, let's play that song, and the indecision in-between that leads to noncommittal noodling and a rambling jam. It's not that we're good. It's not that we aren't offensive and lazy and inconsiderate to each other. We're a well-oiled machine that does nothing much. We will simmer and give up and control, but there's some feeble light of dawn when the dust clears. We are in our simplest form. We love each other. This solves nothing. Love is no panacaea, but neither is the dawn; you just know that both are inevitable, that's all.
whynot: hockey: stay warm in the wintertime (first line)
I was not looking forward to tonight's game because wow, but it turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Also, today I went on the Harpoon Brewery tour with my brother, and if you guys are ever in Boston, I'd recommend stopping by. Cute tour, good booze.


Unrelatedly, hockey RPF ideas )
whynot: SPN: all hail (umbrellatiem)
You know how I was mentioning in the fic round-up post that I have ideas for continuing the Webster/Vazquez fic? WELL. PERFECT OPPORTUNITY. LOOK WHO JUST GOT TRADED TO ARIZONA.

It's Webster. Webster got traded, along with Rubby, who is one of Vazquez's best friends on the team so that's a one-two punch. WEBSTER IS SO FRAGILE TOO, inspiring actual Boston Globe reporters to start articles with "I've probably watched more DVR'd episodes of "Naked and Afraid" over the last week or so than I have live Red Sox games. Yes, that's a real show, not a euphemism for Allen Webster's comportment on the pitching mound." Presumably fanon!Webster's head is all in a whirl and he put his phone on silent as soon as it starts beeping with messages, even though he knows one of those messages is gonna be from Vazquez, but he can't, he can't deal with that right now. Vazquez down in San Juan playing winterball was just focused on HOW SHITTY THE SENADORES ARE DOING, and then this. Perfect. Perfect! They're not even gonna be in the same league now. Webster downs a few whiskeys then skypes Vazquez, and it's all downhill from there.

Stuff like that.

In hockey news, I want to do this 12 Days of Hockey Challenge. There's something involving Malcolm Subban I gotta get down, something else about Brad/Reilly, so this is a good opportunity for that, probably. Hmmmmm...
whynot: hockey: stay warm in the wintertime (first line)
Another gratuitous icon post! I have a hockey icon now, yay.

All the language stuff from the last post got me thinking also about that fatigue that comes when you have to communicate all day in a language you're not fluent in. There were some days this got really stressful for me when I was working in Indonesia, and at its worst, I felt like I was losing my personality because I simply did not know how to express it. (lol, extra stress because people expected me to speak the language well because I am an actualfax Indonesian, but that is neither here nor there.) (I am an Outdonesian.) (...I'm sorry.)

ANYWAY, Pastrnak was quoted recently as saying he reckons his English is getting worse. My brain was like FIC PROMPT, because idk, because Pastrnak apparently grew up idolizing David Krejci, so on top of being drawn to Krejci for starry-eyed feelings, he's also drawn because he's hungry for speaking freely and being understood. And Krejci is intrigued~ lol idk because Las isn't in a sports fandom until she starts doodling stuff about veterans wanting to get their grubby mitts on rookie tush. Throw in a scene where Chara pulls Krejci aside all like, "uh dude water u doin..."

and then )
whynot: SPN: all hail (Default)
OK, so fan-flashworks@LJ (I forget how to HTML the thing, it's been a while) has the next prompt of CONTRABAND. I have ideas. There is no guarantee that what's under the cut is going to involve any of these ideas! But there are fic ideas for def.

broons )
whynot: SPN: all hail (we're going to heaven)
Some wee ickle baby named David Pastrnak got his first point on an assist to Bread Mearcheand today, so whatever.

:DDD

I HOPE RIGHT NOW HIS PHONE IS ALL BLOWN UP and he calls back Jordan and Malcolm in Providence and it is all very incoherent, everyone's joy colliding, and Pasta's like "But guys, we lost," but he has this huge grin on his face anyway because the shine of being up in lights hasn't worn off, like will it ever? Y'KNOW?? His mother is crying half a world away, he knows it in his heart because she cries at everything and the guys call him a mama's boy like it's a bad thing. He'll call her back next.

WE MUST CARE FOR HIM WELL. I'm looking at you, Bread. Assist~ him back. The kinkmeme practically demands you push Pastrnak up against a wall and lick his neck, et cetera et cetera, a penis, butts.
whynot: etc: excuses, excuses (express yourself)
FIC REC: Almost No One Makes It Out by atrata
Iron Man. Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Obadiah Stane. 28099 words.
What would have happened if Tony hadn't been born filthy rich? A military AU.

Suhair prompted me to write Risa/Cassie Robinson in 5x04verse, but instead I got as far as some prose and some rambling about what the fic would have been had I any kind of follow-through. I had more fun with the prompt than I expected, for a croatverse value of 'fun'. My new year resolution is gonna be to write more femslash. Anyway, this takes place after the sanatorium raid. It also has some Claire Novak because Claire Novak should be in all the things.

Risa survives. )

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whynot: SPN: all hail (Default)
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