nina!

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| main blog: @haymitchyappernathy | i'm nina | 20 | they/she | president of stolson

hi friends!! this is my multifandom fan content-centered sideblog (mostly fics but i've recently gotten into editing?)!

i do take requests on here (edits and fanfic, always grateful for more practice!) & will be mostly promoting my works <3

here to spread joy and whimsy and love. i do not involve myself in shipping/fandom discourse, so please do not interact with my content if you're only here to complain!

asks: i do only respond to questions, requests, and other stuff related to my content on this blog, but i welcome all kinds of asks on my main! please come bother me!

fandoms, pairings, and fanfic masterlist below the cut!

"Okay," Wyatt says slowly, but Maysilee can tell what he's thinking. Why not ask someone more experienced? It wasn't like Maysilee didn't know any guys in the industry. But Wyatt had a certain charm to him that no one who was hyper-trained to perform could replicate. He was genuine. Ironically, Maysilee thinks, his public attraction to her wouldn't be. She studies him for a moment, from his dark brown eyes to the shape of his Cupid's bow. To the way his navy slacks cling to his hips, accentuating the way his shirt puffs out from the waistband. His clothes are a little big on him— an older brother's hand-me-downs, maybe?— but he really does look good. When Maysilee looks at him, all she can see is untapped potential. "Say," she smiles at him, leaning back in her seat. "How do you look in purple?"

[or, Maysilee's struggling marketability is hurting her chances in the upcoming winter pageant, so Plutarch suggests she get a partner to look more likable. but where can she get one on such short notice?]

part of a wysilee fic exchange with @helvenilla!!

Olson was floating. To him, it felt almost euphoric, a familiar kind of high; in other words, it was a total out-of-body experience. He’d felt like this before— usually after a long night out— where his mind was fuzzy and his body grew lightweight. It no longer belonged to him. But, this wasn't exactly like that. Olson was literally floating; nearing zero gravity. His ass was no longer connected to his seat, and his mind still had that vaguely fuzzy feeling. This time, he figured he must’ve dozed off sometime after the plane took off. His mouth is empty, he thinks, growing frustrated. Sometime between now and then, he must’ve swallowed the gum he’d been chewing.

[or, the boys take a detour on the way to nationals]

He figured it was none of his business, but that didn’t quench the uneasy feeling he had; the uneasy feeling that Stebbins made him feel. He looks back at McVries, shaking his head as if it would shake the worry from his mind. “Ready for takeoff?”  Garraty shakes a pill into his hand and dry-swallows it. His palms were already sweaty, but it was nothing unusual. “Yeah. I think so.” “Nervous?” “A little. I’m not a great flier,” Garraty admits, but it didn’t feel like McVries was judging him for it. In the corner of his eye, he sees Coach board the plane, and knows they’re just about ready to take off. That must be everyone, now. They’ve got practically a full team; Garraty had underestimated how many people were attending. “Don’t be,” McVries grins and slides the cover of their window open. “Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the view.”

[in which the Musketeers prepare for sendoff]

but i told you, even then (3462 words) by victorhugehoe Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Long Walk (Movie 2025) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hank Olson/Stebbins Characters: Hank Olson, Stebbins (The Long Walk), Peter McVries Additional Tags: Confessions, Accidents, Light Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Hockey Player Stebbins, Sports injuries, Alternate Universe - College/University, Regular Old Hank Olson Dissociation, Background Ray Garraty/Peter McVries - Freeform Series: Part 4 of requested works - the long walk Summary:

He lifts his hand to Stebbins’ cheek tentatively, ghosting his finger over the slash. It’s still tender, of course, and Stebbins flinches even though Olson isn’t really touching him. The look on his face remains increasingly confused, looking down the bridge of his nose, straight-on at Olson. “Pretty,” Olson says, after a moment. “What?” “You’re pretty,” Olson blurts out, without thinking. He eyes the gash. Surely, it’ll leave a permanent scar; knowing Stebbins, he wouldn’t like that one bit. But Olson didn’t care. If anything, it enhanced Stebbins’ sharp cheekbones. “Really fucking pretty.”

[or, stebbins has a hockey accident]

my last submission for the rarepair week hosted by @collie-parkers-carbine!!! this has been so much fun to be a part of & i'm so glad we get to have fun events like these as a fandom! <3

In the threshold stands Hank Olson. Except it wasn’t Olson, not really. The creature that stood there, drenched in rainwater and blood, might have Olson’s face, but it wasn’t Olson. Stebbins could tell that much. He would look ethereal, his figure illuminated by the moonlight that shone in behind him, if it weren’t for the dejected way he carried himself. He looked agonized, clutching at his abdomen as if he’d been struck there. But upon a closer look, he grasped something white and bloody in his hands; a handkerchief, maybe? But Olson held it close, protecting it, and Stebbins couldn't make out what it was. Olson lifts his head. The look on his face was empty, freshly woken from a deep slumber. His eyes were glazed over, his expression strangely calm; like he was still dead. Hank Olson was a walking corpse, so it seemed.

[or, stebbins and olson were partners in vampire hunting until olson gets attacked and left for dead]

Hank Olson was annoying. Hank Olson was a foul-mouthed asshole: an obnoxious, good-for-nothing braggart. But most importantly, Hank Olson was completely and utterly magnetic. Stebbins shook his head, expelling the image— the one of Olson looking at him like that— straight from his mind. Focus. He just needed to focus. “Ready?” McVries asks, pressing play on his laptop before even gathering a response. He flashes Collie a smile. “Try to keep up.”

[or, things always get heated after group trivia night]

A tiny frog, no bigger than the pad of his thumb, crouches on the railing. Its skin is a muted olive-green, almost gray in the fading light, sides pulsing faintly with each breath. It's not looking at Olson— that would be crazy, right? But he looks down at it and sighs, a faint, sad smile on his face. "I don't suppose you'd like to accompany me to the parade," he mutters, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand, dejected. It's impressive how the creature managed to get to a balcony on the second floor, and Olson finds a deep respect for it. "So I'm not such a fucking third wheel. Because, woof, the dating pool is rough these days." Of course, the frog doesn't do anything, and Olson lets a timid, frustrated huff out through his nose. He doesn't know what he expected, and it's pathetic, the thought of him standing here, fantasizing about, what, kissing frogs?

[or, hank olson looks for love at mardi gras]

yay!! bday stolson is finally Complete! for day 7 (Kiss) of the TLW rarepair week hosted by the lovely @collie-parkers-carbine !! :)

In that moment, Olson is certain of one thing: He would do anything for the wilderness. For Stebbins. Were they so different? To Olson, they weren’t. They were one and the same, the wilderness and Stebbins, which rendered him special. He was chosen by the wilderness, and now by Olson himself. It made Olson feel powerful. For the first time since the crash, Olson was in control, and of something so great. 

[or, olson and stebbins celebrate doomcoming]

“He’s like the sun,” she murmurs, tapping her fingers against her cup absentmindedly. “A total eclipse." “The fuck does that mean?” Haymitch asks, cocking his head. “You’ve long-lost me.”  Maysilee pulls her folder out again, snatching some stray Post-It notes from her bag and laying them out on top of her pre-existing sketches. “He has really unassuming features,” she explains, furiously sketching on top of the messily-placed notes. “Not to say he’s unremarkable; he’s not. But that smile… it transforms his whole appearance. Like how an eclipse hides the sun.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you come off like you have anyone to impress. You’ve always seemed really self-assured.” Stebbins’ voice takes on a different temper, one that Olson fails to place. His face gives away no more secrets, remote and indecipherable. “Maybe that’s because I’ve already impressed you.” It didn’t come off like Stebbins’ standard arrogance, at least not in Olson’s opinion. Maybe that was so jarring. He couldn’t help but be plagued by the idea that Stebbins was flirting with him. All he can do is choke out a response: “Maybe.” It wasn’t a lie. Stebbins was smug. Stebbins was vain. He was stubborn, he was a collection of all the things Olson wanted to improve about himself. So why did he find himself enthralled, almost? Fascinated?

[or, hank olson discovers stebbins is much more approachable when he's high]

Olson does not tumble wildly or aimlessly; instead, he feels drawn, pulled cleanly through a widening passage, as though time has opened up like a burrow and he’s been invited inside. It takes a lot of effort for Olson to collect his thoughts, but once he does, he’s hit with the horrific realization that he’s fallen down, down, down the rabbit hole. 

[or, hank olson isn't satisfied with his final grade in a class, so he travels back in time to retake his final. but instead of going back 145 hours, he goes back 145 years]

first stolson time fic! featuring time traveler olson x time period local stebbins :) this is basically just a prologue but i had been rushing to get something out!

Olson was dreaming. Dreaming of him. Only, he didn’t know the dream was about Stebbins, not at first. Because it didn’t begin like most wet dreams, it started off as a nightmare.  Someone had broken into his house, swiftly stolen away from the pouring rain outside, but Olson didn’t see his face at first. Not until he was cornered, and a wooden stake was driven into his heart.  Being stabbed was a surprisingly intimate experience for Olson. The heart— an organ of love, which one would normally be hesitant to give away— penetrated by an object of violence.  If Olson were a poet, he’d have a field day with that one.  Too bad Olson wasn’t a poet. But he was horny, which is why the dream didn’t stop there.

[or, Olson has a really strange wet dream that may or may not have been some sort of prophecy]

“Really,” Stebbins urged, nervously rubbing the hem of his sweater between his fingers. The fabric felt rougher than he remembered. Truly, he wanted to be seen, to be talked to. “I can’t— I mean, I really shouldn’t.”

Stebbins didn’t want to admit why he hadn’t had a drink all night; why he didn’t drink in general. Truly, he didn’t. But Olson was looking at him like he wasn’t leaving without some kind of concession, and it made Stebbins feel guilty to deny him one. It was none of Olson’s business, and if Stebbins were a betting man, he’d bet that Olson wouldn’t even remember this encounter the next morning. 

Good thing Stebbins wasn’t a betting man. 

[or, a mishap at the musketeers' sendoff party]

hi there! thanks for the ask! i currently take requests for the long walk, the hunger games, and les misérables since those are the fandoms i'm currently active in. i try to stay away from stories with other people's OCs, so i'm really sorry about that if that's what you're looking for, but if you have a unique plot with existing characters, that's something i'd love to explore!

and i'm not sure how long i'd be willing to go. probably 20k at the most, just because i have some existing WIPs that i'd like to focus on for now and would like to keep requests mid-sized. but this is flexible. i have a couple reqs in my inbox right now that are currently being worked on that i expect to be around 3-6k each, but i am willing to go longer.

i do tend to work kind of slow, so i'd like to be transparent about that. but nothing is ever ignored! i will let people know if i am uncomfortable or unenthusiastic about a request. there are definitely pairings and subject matters i'm not willing to write for, so i do prefer when people send me requests non-anonymously so i can let them know! i will still complete anon reqs, though.