#I’m only watching so I can watch boots of the Russian production

[thegoldielocks28]

“SO… you think I’m hot?” - Mathilda and Sergei~

Title: “you think I'm hot” Pairing: Mathilda Alster and Sergei Petrov/Spencer Petrov AN: Written for a writing challenge, for Syfien. Nothing more than a soft moment for the cute couple ~ Hopefully it makes sense ;D

The sun is bright against the almost cloudless sky on this hot summer's day. The humidity makes the heat feel hotter than it actually is, and most people out and about carry either electrical hand-fans or more traditional paddle-fans while crowding the soft drink vending machines that conveniently seem to be just about everywhere.

Japan´s summers are something else.

Mathilda has always been a spring and summer person, enjoying how good weather allows her to dress in some of her favorite clothes more comfortably. Shorts, skirts, blouses and cute tops. Even dresses at times. Today, she's even wearing a big hat, shielding her face from the direct sun. Her pale cheeks are decorated with light freckles, dots that in her case only appear in summer. The summer back home in the UK is a lot milder than those here in Asia, but she can't say she misses the wind or common and heavy rain that much.

Mathilda`s plans are a bit different today. Hence her being slightly dressed up. After several nights of little sleep, and several days when she lost her words upon just seeing him, she managed to ask her crush if he wanted to spend some time together. Just her and him.

They already have, several times, met up by coincidence in the hotel-like apartment building rented for them during a long season of blading. For example while making tea in the shared kitchen. Making small meals. Sitting on the sofa, reading. Watching the matches on TV after they happened. Together with their fellow bladers, teams and friends.

Lately, … ending up staying in the joined area late until they were almost alone, or the only ones left.

Mathilda´s freckled cheeks turn a shade pink upon thinking of her date. Looking at her wristwatch she realizes she´s early, like she always is when nervous. Being late would leave a bad impression now, wouldn't it? The pink haired woman spends about 10 minutes gazing at people, meeting the eyes of polite fans a few times. Apparently, she's quite popular in Japan.

There he is.

Sergei.

Mathilda shifts so she´s facing him. Pale, tall and handsome. Dirty blond short hair. Strong nose and jaw. The heat seems to have made the Russian have to drop the vest he is always wearing, and today he has just a pair of cargo pants, a nicely fit black t-shirt and boots. Revealing his strong chest, and arms. The man is still fully clothed but the sight of him has her skin turn hot. Many seem to assume the tallest member of the Russian team looks least good, but… Mathilda´s eyes has never strayed, even if her attraction to him also didn't start with the way he looked in the first place.

“Hello.” Mathilda can't help but smile widely, then tries to calm herself down. “Hey.” Sergei answers, his voice deep and calm. Those steel grey eyes of his move over Mathilda. Just like she is used to seeing him with his vest, and hat, he is used to her own “battle gear”. Not a soft colored summer outfit, and just a little bit more effort with her hair and make up. All thanks to Julia. It's not like Mathilda doesn't care about those things, it's that she has always been someone who enjoys being without products as well. Mathilda likes being pretty, and Julia has helped her find a style that suits her well. Not as strong as Julia´s often so red and full lips.

“Let´s…” Mathilda starts, she needs to step up since she was the one to ask him out to hang out. “Start walking, the place I mentioned, is a bit further ahead.”

It's a nice summer's day. Birds chirp. Breeze is lovely. Mathilda is so happy she gets to spend today with her crush. Happy to realize they have actually gotten that far from being strangers, to having plans together like this. For a long while she had thought she wouldn't be able to pull it off but as always she didn't let her shyness stop her from at least trying. And there by her side is Sergei. The gentle giant.

The ones who are less happy about their growing friendship are people she could worry about later.

However, things change drastically just over a few minutes. Mathilda notices mid-sentence that something is wrong. Eyes darting up at the much taller man by her side only to get that gut feeling affirmed. Sergei has a queasy look on his face, and his forehead seems damp of sweat. He's squinting against the strong rays of the sun.

“Are you ok?” She tilts her head, looking up at him.

Sergei avoids looking at her. “Hm.” He makes a sound through lips pressed together. “You look… paler than normal.” Mathilda continues. “My body feels… heavy.” Sergei grumbles. “My head… “

“Did you get something to drink before this..?” Sergei looks at her. “No.”

Mathilda´s expression turns more concerned. Especially when guilt washes over her. She had asked Sergei to hang out with her outside in this hot weather that's so unlike what he's used to. Not considerate at all. All she had done was walk ahead chatting because of her nerves, while Sergei had been feeling ill.

If Sergei fainted here, or fainted anywhere, Mathilda would not be able to catch and support him properly because of his size. The man would hit the concrete ground and get hurt no matter if she just stood there, or had him fall over her as she tried to hold him. The mental image of the Russian falling backwards and hitting his head makes Mathilda´s throat go dry. Skull cracked open. Blood. Mathilda forces herself to stop thinking about that.

She extends her hand, and even if holding hands with him would normally make her a nervous mess, she takes his bigger one in hers and tugs at it.

“There's a bench over there..”

Sergei looks at her in silence for a long moment, as if it takes longer for him to register what she is saying in this heat, before he shifts his body and allows her to pull him along. Slow steps. A low, drawn out sound leaves Sergei´s lips as he lowers himself down on the bench. In the shade, it's still hot, but a clear difference from before. Mathilda´s eyes rest on his face for one long moment before she turns away.

“I´ll be back soon, promise.”

Mathilda jogs over to the vending machine closest to them, across the street, and digs in her pockets for some Japanese yen coins. Luckily, she has enough for drinks and after a bit of struggle to understand which drinks are cold and which are hot she manages to buy cans of cold bubble water. Both for Sergei. The moment she returns to Sergei´s side she hands him one of the bottles.

Sergei accepts the bottle, unscrews it and drinks almost greedily. Water running down the side of his mouth, down his jaw and onto that black t-shirt. Mathilda sits down by his side while trying to not seem too worried, even if her emotions are easy to read on her face. Sitting is better than her walking about.

After a moment of slow silence Sergei speaks up. “I am sorry, Mathilda.” His voice is tired. “I think I won't make it to the shop in this heat.”

Mathilda can hear in his voice that he had thought about what to say for a while. Nodding her head, she agrees, she understands. “Let's rest a bit then I will walk you back.” She says, wanting to know Sergei will be alright. After a moment of silence the girl nudges Sergei at his side before she gestures to her lap.

“What..?”

Mathilda´s cheeks turn pink. “One time offer… you know?”

Sergei´s eyes soften ever so slightly as he understands just what she is offering him. The gesture seems to make him feel a bit self-conscious, but not out of dislike. Perhaps because this is a first.

“...I am sweaty.” He says, voice low, as if it is the last negative point he can find.

“I don't mind.” Mathilda says patiently with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

Even if her heart is beating really loudly in her chest she knows this isn't something to get excited for. Sergei feels sick, and needs to rest. If she can offer him some calm and comfort she´d be happy to.

Awkwardly, Sergei lowers his body onto the bench. His head soon rests in Mathilda´s lap. It's obvious this makes the man self-conscious, but after a few moments pass, he exhales deeply and his body grows heavier against her as he relaxes.

Could he have been worried about putting his weight on her?

Up this close, Mathilda notices just how grey his blue eyes really are. Almost silver, steel. His hair is on the border of being brown, dark dirty blonde. A strong jaw, big defined nose and thin pale lips. Those eyes close, as if the moment got too intimate, and Mathilda lets out a soft huff of a giggle.

He even has long eyelashes.

Mathilda is unaware of the slight wetness moving down the side of her face as they sit together so closely. She's getting a bit sweaty as well.

“You're hot.” His words are low, deep.

The way Sergei´s voice breaks the silence has her flinch, just a little bit. Mathilda feels a hot wave of emotion wash over her as she realizes what he just told her. Sergei´s cold, steel gray eyes, looks a bit confused at Mathilda´s reaction. Meeting his eyes, she realizes he wasn't trying to hit on her.

Maybe he had meant to say “warm.”

Mathilda blinks, luckily not feeling too bad about the mistake, and decides to lighten the mood. “So… I am hot..?” She chuckles quietly, reaching for the second bottle of water to help herself to some. Being a native speaker of English, she can understand how some would mistake words like that, having a second meaning appear out of mistake. The way Sergei looks at her was out of concern, not out of something else. “Hot” and “warm” can mean similar things, yet have different meanings in different situations.

“I mean…” Sergei must have realized his mistake. “You look… very warm too.”

At that, Mathilda can't help but let her smile grow wider and warmer as she looks down at the man resting in her lap. Her painted nails softly move into his short hair as she strokes him. Trying her best to make him relax, and feel better. How lovely it´d be if… they could do this in different circumstances. Resting together. Mathilda´s smile fades a little, and her lips turn playful.

“...I'd be ok with you thinking I'm hot.”

#Beyblade #Fanfic #Syfien #Mathilda Alster #Sergei Petrov #Spencer Petrov #MathildaXSergei #MathildaXSpencer

[artificialqueens]

&New (Sashea) - Chae

summary: shea is a famous model, sasha is a famous designer. they *attempt* to have a nice, low-key, friendly date. a paparazzi has other plans.

a/n: i just posted this finished product to ao3 and thought why not bless the tl (wait is this even considered a tl.. well anyways) with some Sashea aka my favorite ship ever– whilst also proving i am not dead! also the lil marked line is where the smut starts i really said “cute… but also porn”

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24913066?show_comments=true&view_full_work=true#main

“What are you thinking about?” 

“Hm?” Sasha looked at Shea from behind her coffee mug, taking a sip of the scalding beverage and carefully wiping around her red lipstick. “Nothing, really.”

“You sure?” Shea raised an eyebrow. If Shea knew one thing, if there was one motto she lived by, it would be that ‘Sasha is always over-analyzing something.’ Today, it could be her coffee at best, or her entire relationship with Shea at worst. 

“I swear!” Sasha laughed, her eyes crinkling up in that adorable way they did, her mouth turning into a little scarlet-colored heart. If Shea knew two things, if there was a second motto she lived by, it would be that she could watch and listen to Sasha laugh forever and ever. 

“What are you thinking about, Miss Coulee?”

“You,” the model answered honestly. There probably wasn’t a day Shea didn’t think about Sasha. No, fuck a day, a minute. They were ‘friends,’ sure, but both of them knew it was much more than friendship.

Unfortunately, the entire general public suspected the same thing.

Yes, Sasha was famous, but Shea was mainstream. Everyone knew about her, the newest model-Instagram-star-actress-songstress-activist-pole-dancing diva on the scene. And everyone caught on when Shea and the popular designer she’d walked for during fashion week were spotted in public together on numerous occasions. Straight social media played it off as business-partners and friends, but any fan with a brain—especially Shea’s young, very queer fanbase— would spot the gay energy from miles away. 

And just like Shea’s sexuality, their relationship was undefined.

“Me?” The coy question was followed by the clack of Sasha’s teeth against the silver fork that held a pastry, which she placed delicately in her mouth. 

“I said that,” Shea affirmed, her expression reading serious, yet her eyes gazing at the blonde with adoration. 

“Why are you thinking about me?”

Shea scoffed. “Why am I not thinking about you?”

“You are a busy woman.”

“Not busy enough for you to leave my head.”

Sasha’s pale cheeks reddened. It was common for them to flirt, she should have been used to it. But every time Shea said something nice to her, she couldn’t help herself. God herself could have been complimenting Sasha and it wouldn’t compare to what Shea Coulee had to say. That was to say God wasn’t Shea Coulee. 

Shea loved it when Sasha stared at her. When her piercing blue eyes bore into her soul like she was solving an unsolvable equation. It was funny how the petite woman considered Shea a goddess (she knew she did), when the only thing Shea wanted to worship was Sasha. Everything about her: her kind smile, her perfectly and uniquely beautiful face, her analytical shenanigans, her voice that sounded like how honey felt sliding down your throat. Almost a year of friendship, and every moment with her felt brand new.

All of a sudden, Sasha’s eyes snapped to somewhere behind Shea’s head, and her face fell. Shea had a feeling she knew what she was looking at, turning around to see a familiar camera nearing the coffee shop. Her heart dropped to her stomach, not wanting this paparazzi bitch to ruin the amazing day she’d planned for the two of them. 

“Let’s go,” Sasha said hushedly, picking up her bag and completely ignoring her unfinished food and coffee mug.

Shea nodded, doing the same, a plastic cup filled with her frappuccino in one hand and Sasha’s own hand in the other. They’d held hands a few times, sure, but nothing beat the rush of interlacing her fingers with the shorter woman’s. She hadn’t really held her before, hadn’t cuddled or snuggled her often, but when she had Sasha’s dainty hand in hers it almost made up for every time she wanted to hug the breath out of her. 

They raced down the street laughing, the entire situation almost comical. They looked like two crazy women, walking so fast it might have been classified as a jog and cackling like schoolgirls. But it felt right. As cheesy as that might sound, there wasn’t a better word for it. Familiar. Comfortable. Right. 

Again, that was implying that everything didn’t feel right when Shea was with Sasha.

Shea led the other girl a few streets down, ducking behind a mahogany door and checking if the coast was clear. The pair found themselves in a small thrift shop—well, small was an understatement. It was a pretty big thrift shop. But it was quaint, and very artsy, very post-vintage. Very Sasha.

The designer, wearing her sunglasses to hopefully conceal her identity (some face mask, especially next to Shea, who forgot hers at home), looked at the shop in awe.

“Shea… where—”

“The internet,” the taller woman replied smugly.

“You went out of your way to find this for me?”

“It’s the least I can do,” she chuckled. “I wanted today to be fun for us.”

Sasha smirked. “With the camera creep on our tails?”

“More fun for us. Keeping you on your toes.”

The blonde laughed, a soft and knowing giggle. She perused the racks of clothing, feeling the fabric of every sleeve, every pant leg, tracing her fingers along the leather of heeled boots. Shea anticipated the well-dressed woman to pick up a garment multiple times, but she never did, not even the ones she thought were cute. Which left them for Shea, of course, but it also left her wondering what kept her from purchasing them. The designer was known to purchase both expensive and average priced clothes, Sasha caring more about the fit, the cut, the style more than who made it. But she was being extra picky today.

“Something on your mind?” Shea asked.

“No. Just… none of these are speaking to me.”

“Suit yourself,” the model clutched a fur jacket and a PVC skirt in her hands, ready to snag the cute plastic earrings at the cashier before checking out. 

“Are you at least getting some inspo?” she asked again.

“Yes! I think. I don’t know. If it’s from this. I’m inspired, though. I’ve been inspired,” Sasha played with a lock of her curly blonde hair. 

“By…”

“You.”

Shea smiled. “Me?” she mimicked Sasha’s earlier response. 

“Shea,” the russian rolled her eyes. “Stop making fun of me when I confess my undying love,”

“Is that what we’re doing now?” Shea feigned surprise. “In the middle of the store?”

“Let’s buy you some lesbian earrings, I don’t think I’m going to get anything. Today,” she added.

It was when they were at the cash register when they simultaneously spotted the paparazzi—again. The same one. Across the street. Coming closer. Fuck.

Sasha bit her lip, not wanting to abandon the clothing Shea seemed so excited about. She didn’t have much time to think, so she mustered a “could you put these on hold? We’ll be back eventually,” before sliding the worker a twenty for their hassle. Whether or not they accepted that offer was yet to be found out, as Sasha and Shea were already out the door.

Their rush to escape the prying eyes of the cameraman took them to the metro, into a subway car, breathlessly plopping down in the only two open seats. Would either of their management teams let something like this occur? No. 

Well. Too late. They were off, hopefully away from the paparazzi for good this time.

The pair kept their heads down in order to attempt to conceal their identities, as if that would do much on a crowded subway. But attempt was the key word in this situation. It didn’t stop them from stealing glances at each other the entire ride, smiling stupidly at absolutely nothing.

“So, Shea,” Sasha started.

“So, Sasha.”

“Where are we going?”

“Dummy, you’ll see, that’s the whole point.”

“You did not just call me a dummy.”

“What if I did, blondie?”

“Perpetuating not only female stereotypes, but hair color stereotypes? Tsk tsk,” Sasha shoved the taller woman’s arm lightly. Shea giggled in that full, sexy way that her voice always sounded, her voice trailing off into nothing, the pair falling into comfortable silence for a few moments. 

“What?” Sasha asked, her voice laced with a joking tone.

“Nothing, I just like your face,” Shea replied with a wink.

“Oh my god, I swear I’m going to kill you one of these days,” Sasha rolled her eyes playfully, her cheeks flushing pink. 

The train stopped, Shea perked up.

“This is us,” she said, her pearly white teeth peeking out from a satisfied smile.

Once again their hands interlaced in a gentle display of affection, Shea more familiar with public transport (despite a couple years of not using it) than Sasha, leading her through the complicated catacombs of the metro station.

They emerged in a park, and a smile immediately found itself creeping onto Sasha’s face. Reluctantly, they severed their skin-to-skin contact at the sight of the crowded lawn, Sasha dubitifully following Shea’s path.

Their altitude heightened and the amount of people decreased, and the sun shone bright on the two girls as the hill they climbed steepened.

Shea stopped, smiling at the sight of a familiar footpath. 

“It’s still here!” She pointed out, mainly to herself, almost jogging through an overhang of trees. 

Sasha scurried after her, the sun disappearing briefly behind the leaves before reappearing even brighter than before in a small, protected, deserted clearing, overlooking the entire city.

Shea stood at the edge, looking like nothing short of a painting with a slight breeze ruffling her long black hair, set against the picturesque landscape.

Sasha appeared behind her, the sunlight bringing out her rosy cheeks and freckles. 

In that moment they were joined together in the same work of art.

“Shea, this is so beautiful,” was all Sasha could say.

“I came here to think when I was younger, after school. I kind of hated my friends. And then I met new ones, and then we came here at night and we drank and we smoked. And then, you’ll never guess,” Shea explained excitedly. Sasha hung onto her every word like it was gospel, wanting to retain every single slice of the taller girl’s life.

“I think I have some idea,” Sasha laughed.

“I had my first kiss here, too. Only good memories. I haven’t been back for a while, but I guess I just never found the need to.”

“We’re coming back, Shea. When we get chased by paparazzi, we’ll go here,” Sasha said, her eyes darting from the city to Shea and back again, not quite sure which sight was more beautiful.

They found themselves laying in the grass, side by side, staring up at the clouds. Cliche, but so, so wonderful.

“I’m just glad we ditched that creep,” Shea mused.

“I just— what does he want? What does he want out of seeing us together?” Sasha pursed her lips.

“I think you know just as well as I do.”

“Yeah, the fans get even more fuel for their shipping fire.”

“We are always together… “

“Of course, but we’re not together together.” 

Pause.

Shea turned her head to Sasha, who was already looking at her. 

“What if I wanted… to be together. Together,” the words weren’t exactly unplanned, but they still sounded alien to Shea’s lips.

“Shea—”

“No, it’s fine if you don’t. I just thought, natural progression.”

“Shea, oh my god, I think I love you,” Sasha’s warm hands were on Shea’s cheeks. 

“Wh-” and the word was cut off by the most magical, euphoric, shiny sparkly fiery kiss that Shea had ever experienced in her life. The first thing she registered was the taste of coffee and vanilla still on Sasha’s lips. The second was each time their tongues found their way into the others mouth it an entire fireworks show exploded. The third was her arms snaking around the pale girl’s small waist and her own arms tracing up and down Shea’s side. 

“I love you,” Sasha repeated against Shea’s lips, catching them between her own red-stained mouth. 

“I love you, too, Sasha Velour. That’s what I wanted to say today. Thank you for making it easier,” Shea kissed the other girl’s nose.

“You put together this whole day for us, for it to get ruined, for you to bring me here?”

“We were coming here no matter what. Only good things happen here. Sasha, you’re the best thing yet.”

Sasha blushed, unabashedly now, then pressed another kiss onto Shea’s lips. She traced the side of the raven-haired woman’s face, Shea sighed into her mouth.

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?” she asked, Sasha laughing at the obvious question.

“Nothing would make me happier. Really.”

The gaydar of the world was correct, it seemed, in picking soulmates in the two girls.

Under the light of the sun, in the grass, with the breeze sliding over their faces, they were Living & New.

——

The door clicked shut.

And Sasha’s pale, slender hand dropped from the handle. She turned around, eyes scanning the woman taking off her jacket.

Shea looked back with a smirk, finding it hilariously sexy when Sasha tried to give ‘the look.’

“There’s no need for bedroom eyes, we’re already in your bedroom.”

“Really? I would have never guessed,” the blonde teased as she took their coats and shoes and placed them by the door. They’d come in so excitedly that they headed straight for Sasha’s room without thinking.

“But it’s okay,” the taller woman padded over to Sasha, lifting her chin up to face her. “I like it here.”

“You’d better, especially since you’ll be here so often” Sasha leaned in close, her voice a playful whisper.

“Will I, now?”

“Hmm,” was the Russian’s response, as her lips were already interlocked with Shea’s.

Their lips moved together familiarly, the feel and taste of each other’s mouths still fresh in their memories. Almost immediately Shea’s hands reached for the hem of Sasha’s turtleneck, beckoning her to remove it, and Sasha smirked as she pushed Shea back onto the bed. The woman was silhouetted against the nighttime cityscape behind the bed — similarly to earlier that day at the park. 

Sasha broke the kiss with a soft bite on Shea’s lip, wiggling out of the taller girl’s grasp. Shea made a noise in protest, but the blonde shushed her. She walked to the other side of the bed, so now her back was to the giant plexiglass window. 

“You want my shirt off?” she teased, watching Shea scan over her quizzically. 

The model nodded.

Sasha chuckled softly while slowly stripping off the cotton top. Her bra was lacy and white and pushed her breasts up slightly in a way that drove Shea mad. Shea crawled over the bed, beginning to unzip her own dress frantically.

“No, babe, wait,” Sasha smiled. “I thought you’d like a show.”

Shea’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

“You spoil me,” she brought her hands to her heart. “This is so fucking sexy.”

The slight growl in the model’s voice sent a shock from the back of Sasha’s neck to her core. She fumbled with the zipper of her pencil skirt, trying her best to remove the stiff fabric in a provocative manner. Of course, the designer could fall flat on her face and Shea would still find it sexy, but Sasha was nothing if not a pleaser.

To Shea’s surprise and delight, Sasha was hiding a pair of matching white garters underneath the long skirt. All day. Just for her.

“Holy shit.”

“Like what you see?”

“Fuck, Sasha,” Shea raised a hand to beckon the shorter girl over. Her palms hovered over Sasha’s hips as she took the girl in entirely. “Can I—”

“Always,” Sasha bit her lip, brushing a finger through Shea’s dark hair. 

Shea guided Sasha onto her lap, the motion causing her minidress to ride up as she pressed her lips onto Sasha’s once again. Kissing Shea was an experience that could only be described as heaven on Earth, her lips encapsulating the entirety of Sasha’s psyche, the way her tongue intertwined with hers intoxicating and addicting and beckoning to push deeper into the kiss. Her hands threaded their way through Shea’s long black hair while Shea’s roamed Sasha’s small frame, feeling every bit of soft exposed skin and every inch of scratchy lace. 

Sasha felt Shea’s lithe fingers unclasp her bra, and hummed softly in affirmation as she let the other woman slide it off. Shea’s pillowy lips latched onto the crook of Sasha’s neck, tracing short and gentle kisses, sucks, licks, and bites down her clavicle. She looked up at Sasha to see her blue eyes blown out and dark, a pale finger swiping over her cheek and a smile creeping onto her stained-red lips. Shea smiled back mishieviously, taking the girl’s nipple in her mouth and swirled around the bud, her other hand cupping the other breast. Sasha let out a moan at the sensitive contact, greedily pushing the back of Shea’s head closer. Shea nibbled playfully in response and let out a muffled laugh into Sasha’s chest.

“You’re so needy!” she smiled. She pulled back and continued to knead the other woman’s breasts. 

“Shea, I made a mistake,” Sasha bit her lip. Shea confusedly paused, worry glazing her expression.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Sasha couldn’t stop herself from grinning foxily. “I shouldn’t have got you so worked up, now I have to wait for you to fuck me.”

Shea snort-laughed, her hands instinctively reaching out and touching Sasha’s arms. “You little shit! Get on your back already!”

Sasha contentedly obliged, getting comfortable at the head of the bed. Shea took off her dress in the meantime, crawling in between Sasha’s legs. 

“Is this better, my fair lady?” Shea asked sarcastically.

“Yes… but….”

“But….”

“Your mouth is up here, and not down there!”

“I hate you.”

“I love you!”

Shea smirked and crashed her lips on Sasha’s once again, her hands gripping at the hem of the pale girl’s underwear and shimmying it lower. She disconnected the kiss and stripped the rest of Sasha’s garters off, taking a moment to admire the woman laid before her. Sasha was thin, with toned arms from her hours of drawing and sewing, broad shoulders and smaller breasts and a tiny waist. Her skin was airbrush-smooth, and freckles dusted her collarbone and shoulders and thighs. Shea wanted to kiss every little spot on her body.

“You are so beautiful,” Shea breathed. 

“I’m beautiful for a mere mortal, but that’s nothing next to a goddess like you.”

Shea’s cheeks grew warm, the praise making her heady. “If I’m Aphrodite, you’re nothing short of Athena.”

“The lesbian love story the Greeks didn’t deserve,” Sasha laughed. Her hands were kneading at the sheets under her, and although Shea could tell she was trying to be intelligent in the moment, she was obviously growing impatient. Shea looked down and could see the wetness coating Sasha’s pussy and had to hold back a chuckle at how well the girl was holding herself back. 

Conversation ceased as Shea leaned down, fulfilling her self-promise and kissing up Sasha’s milky thighs, nearing closer to where Sasha wanted her the most. Shea avoided it, kissing around her pelvis and nipping where the skin was soft. Again, her mouth drew nearer and Sasha whimpered.

“What do you want, baby?”

“Shea…”

The model looked up with a glint in her eyes.

“It’s okay, Sasha, you’re with me. You don’t have to be so uptight, especially not now.” She kissed right on top of her clit. Sasha whined.

“What do you want me to do, baby?”

“Just—just… you know, just—”

“I don’t know,” Shea smirked.

“Goddamnit, just eat me out already!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, princess.” 

And Shea was licking languidly down Sasha’s folds, savoring the way she tasted and going back for more. She probed around her entrance, the soft sounds Sasha was making before gradually growing into prolonged moans. The designer’s voice wasn’t high pitched naturally, so it translated into musical and full sounds under Shea’s touch and Shea couldn’t get her unique moaning out of her brain. She flattened her tongue against her clit and immediately a strangled ‘mmph’ sounded above and two small hands found themselves buried in Shea’s hair.

Shea licked, pressing harder with each pass as Sasha got more and more worked up. Her voice was breathy and her hips were bucking off of the mattress and her head was turned to the side, and she just looked so pretty with the sheen of sweat coating her forehead and her hair around her head in a curly halo.

Sasha’s hands roamed to her own breasts, the motion being impossible to hold back as she kneaded them in time with Shea’s mouth. The taller woman hoisted Sasha’s thighs upwards and continued to lick, sucking over and over again at her clit, now at a better angle.

Sasha’s thighs were trembling as the pressure in her lower abdomen increased, her calves spasming as the sensations became too much to handle. She couldn’t stop herself—even if she wanted to— from letting obscene, low, drawn out sounds escape her throat. Shea’s mouth felt too good to suppress it, and Sasha was willing to let it go for once. If not for her own good, for Shea. 

Sasha tried to catch her bottom lip in between her teeth, but as soon as she bit it another shock of Shea’s tongue brought out another moan and her head was knocked back and her lips open.

It was when Shea heard her name being yelped over and over that she knew Sasha was close, and registered that she herself was probably dripping wet. If the nonverbal sounds turned Shea on, her own name almost sent her over the edge.

Shea brought her hand up to gently hover around Sasha’s entrance, continuing her assault on her clit. 

“S-sh-oh my god, oh my fuck-” was something along the lines of what Sasha rambled on about, gasping for air as her orgasm reached it’s very climax. Shea felt her tense briefly, before her entire body relaxed and Sasha was muttering softly and finally breathing regularly again.

Shea’s mouth was swollen, her tongue sore, her body tired. She fell beside Sasha on the pillows, turning and watching as the blonde regained her senses. She was a vision, wrapped up in the sheets with her makeup smudges and her eyes half shut and tired. Suddenly, she seemingly remembered something and turned to Shea.

“Do you need me to, now?”

“What, fuck me?” Shea smiled. Sasha nodded.

Shea looked down at herself. She was wet, that fact was undeniable. She was also tired, but as her arm tingled at Sasha’s feather-light touch, her energy inconspicuously returned.

Shea kissed Sasha softly, all lips and no teeth, as Sasha’s hand made its way lower and lower. Sasha cherished Shea as if she was a goddess — well, to her, she was. She wanted to feel every part of her warm skin, register it’s softness and make sure it was real and that the beautiful woman lying beside her was, in fact, tangible. Sasha caressed her thigh and moved inward, trying to fit her dainty hand in between Shea’s thighs.

Shea’s breath hitched when Sasha’s fingers hovered over her clit, and she gave the other woman more space so her hand would slip lower. Sasha gently slid her hand through Shea’s already-slick folds, and a little whimper drew itself from Shea’s throat.

“You sound so pretty, Shea,” Sasha’s voice was soft. 

“I-” Shea was interrupted by her own whine as Sasha pressed against her clit. “Not as g-good as—fuck—you, I bet.”

“I beg to differ,” Sasha replied with a smirk and a breathy tone, massaging small circles now. Their faces were nearly touching, but Shea threw her head back now, mouth stuck in an ‘o.’

“Aah—agree to disagree-ohh-” Shea looked back with wide eyes. “Right there, fuck, that feels so good,” her hips were doing their best to grind forward, knocking into Sasha’s pelvis a little.

Sasha had an idea, then.

“Darling, prop yourself up,” she smiled, planting a quick kiss on her forehead. Shea only had it in her to follow Sasha’s orders without a word.

With some maneuvering, Sasha managed to hook a leg over Shea’s and entangle herself in the other woman so that she could feel the heat from her sex on her own. Shea understood the scenario exactly, a giddy smile plastered on her face.

“Sash, you know me too well.”

With a considerable amount of effort, Sasha managed to bring their genitals into contact, and the sounds that escaped both women’s lips could have come straight out of a porno.

As they grinded in time, rubbing their pussies together, feeling probably the best they’d ever had ever and completely disregarding a need for lube because they were already wet anyway, they wondered why the hell they hadn’t thought of scissoring before. 

“Holy shit, Sasha, if I’d had known, fuck,” Shea tried to get out, but the pressure or Sasha against her clit just drowned out the words.

Sasha was basically post-verbal at this point— quite an achievement for someone such as herself— and she grabbed into Shea’s thigh in a vain attempt to ground herself. A feeling like this made her feel so high she wasn’t sure she’d come back down.

And so their cunts rubbed together, the only sound in the entire large three-story house the almost-hypersexual moans of the pair as those grew louder and closer to screams than anything.

“Shea, Shea, Shea, I-I think, oh god I’m going to—” Sasha frantically jerked her hips and yelled her relief as her second orgasm tore through her. The rush of fluid onto Shea’s pussy was enough to get her throbbing, and it wasn’t long before she finally got her release, shouting Sasha’s name.

The next few moments were a blur, the two women beyond spent, muscles sore and heads light. Apparently they both managed to hobble to the bathroom and tidy themselves up a bit, because the next thing Sasha fully registered was cuddling into Shea’s side. Shea didn’t even get that far, the moment her head touched her pillow, she was fast asleep.

Moonlight mixed with the lights of the city, basking the entire room in a periwinkle afterglow. It was entirely possible someone in one of the high-rise apartments across the street saw their whole ordeal, and the thought made Sasha laugh. If they’d known who they were, if they’d known what Sasha and Shea were doing, their lives would be over. The only thing that meant more to Sasha than Shea herself was Sasha’s work, her designs. To have that taken away was impossible, and she knew Shea felt the same about walking a runway.

Sasha squeezed Shea. In the privacy of her home, she could get used to this. In the light of the stars there was nobody to stop them from loving each other. No prying eyes and paparazzi stalkers. It was Sasha and Shea. And during the day, they could both have what they loved.

It was give and take. It was upsetting. But it was life, and the comfort of seeing each other after a hard days work made it all worth it, somehow,

Living in the sunlight, Loving in the moonlight.

#rpdr fanfiction #sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #song fic #lesbian au #fluff #smut #model x designer au #chae #submission

[rottenheartedchild]

Witch of Songs

It's been a long time since I've posted anything here so here's the latest Bayonetta oc using my Dragon Raja because 1. He deserves to have kickass demon/dragon powers and 2. I'm bi. Huge apologies for any mistakes in the bio, let me know so I can correct them.

Also the left pic is from kazmourner's picrew, https://picrew.me/image_maker/163761)

Character template is from Kaishos,https://www.deviantart.com/kaishos/art/character-profile-template-123273743)

General Information First name: Isidore Surname: D’Aramitz Age: 19(physically), 570(chronologically) Date of birth: 13/10/1442 Race: Umbran Witch Gender: Trans man Sexuality: Bisexual Demiromantic Current residence: Cassell College  Relationship status: Currently engaged to Durante Traits of Voice Accent (if any): Slight Marseille that thickens whenever his emotion get the best of him Language spoken: English Other languages known: Enochian, French, Italian, Arabic, Russian, Spanish, very few Mandarin, very little Japanese, Turkish Style of speaking: Casual, occasionally formal Volume of voice: Deep, soft and gentle Physical Appearance Height: 5′4″,162.6cm Weight: 73kg,161lb Eye color: Pink Skin color: Dark brown Distinguishing features: Star shaped birthmark on the back Build of body: Athletic Hair color: Black with blue highlights Complexion: Combination type Posture: Slightly hunched Tattoos: Oleander flowers wrapped all over the left arm Piercings: Gold studs on the ears Typical clothing: Combat boots, billowy shirts, suspenders, pleather pants, pastel dresses, fishnet stockings, Doc Martens, distressed jeans, baggy t-shirts, old sneakers, fur coats, windbreakers, crop tops, fingerless gloves, oversized hoodies, fingerless gloves, thigh high socks, stilettos. Personality Likes: Food, music, birds, forests, stargazing, books, history, libraries, abandoned buildings, new sights, adventure novels, beaches, poisonous plants, science, diy projects, cooking, making new songs, musicals, concerts, graffiti, motor racing. Dislikes: Tacky furniture, minimalist design, elitist fans, bad hair days, exhaust fumes, strong perfumes, overcooked steaks, mafias, upper crust parties, being ordered around, bigots, racists, boring classes, older men, predictability. Education: College  Fears: Christmas, dead bodies, sirens, crowds, being trapped in an empty room, doctors  Personal goals: To discover more about his past and kill everyone responsible for the Black Swan massacre. General attitude: Very chill and easygoing guy but incredibly terrifying once provoked. Religious values: Agnostic General intelligence: Above average, a quick learner General sociability: Ambivert

Health Allergies (if any): Dairy products, peanuts Sleeping habits: Is a light sleeper Energy level: Mostly high Eating habits: Extremely unbalanced Memory: Eidetic memories Any unhealthy habits: Starts smoking as a way to relieve stress, or when it gets too much to handle. History Birth country: France Hometown: Marseille Childhood: Lived a relatively normal childhood with his baby sister until he was awoken with the dark arts one day, his sister with the light. Fearing for their safety, their parents sent them away to both Lumen and Umbra Clans so they could hone their gifts. Teen years: Training under Ivan’s tutelage, Isidore’s talents blossomed as he managed to take down one of the Clan’s gifted fighter, albeit with difficulties. Soon he made a pact with Monsieur Phenex, a Great Marquis of Inferno. Adult years: Accomplished in his line of duty, his next task was to be the mentor for the Master Assassin’s youngest daughter, Malika, who reminded him of his own sister. At the time, both he and an Umbran soldier, Durante, fell in love and engaged after years of courtship. Past places of residence: Vigrid, Black Swan Bay orphanage Briefly explain life story: Isidore was once a talented Witch under Ivan’s command before the Clan War erupted and nearly wiped both sides out, him included. A desperate Durante carried his and Marisol’s bodies to a far off place before sealing them in a tomb, using his gift to regress their bodies to that of a child, hoping they would be saved. 500 years have passed, and their tomb was discovered by an archeologist, surprised to see two living children sleeping in an ancient tomb. Curiosity piqued, he took the children to a man named Herzog to be studied and soon, they were placed under his care.

As time goes by, the now 19 years old Isidore lives peacefully with other orphans and even gets excited at the upcoming Christmas party when he found out Renata’s plan to ask Z as her partner. All of that were destroyed when bombs dropped out of nowhere and in his last moments was Renata pushing both him and his sister into the sea, begging them to live on. 20 passed and they woke up in a new place called Cassell College. The incident still fresh in his mind, he vow to kill every single monsters who murdered the orphan while trying to figure out those haunting scenes inside his head. Relationships Parents: Oscar D’Aramitz(deceased), Kahina Adebayo(deceased) Siblings: Marisol, Renata/Zero(adopted) Any enemies: Dr.Herzog/Osho, Bondarev/Masamune for the deaths in Black Swan Bay, the Laguna for the destruction of the Umbran clan. Friends: Erii, Aruna, Nono, Misaki, Satoshi, Johann Best friend(s): Chime, Tuncay, Aisya, Malika Important friends/relatives (explain): Ivan(His former mentor and the one who taught him how to fight), Salwa(Ivan’s wife and master of espionage Love interest (if there is one): Durante, Monsieur Phenex Combat Peaceful or violent: Peaceful, he only uses violence when it’s appropriate  Weapon (if applicable): Two pairs of guns named after the children of Persephone, a scythe that can be folded into a guitar containing the soul of a fallen angel and a sphere which uses his energy to manipulate time and heal injuries. Style of fighting: a mix between capoeira , krav maga, savate, boxing, bokator and stick-fighting. Others Occupation: Student by day, indie performer by night. After graduation, he became a bounty hunter while performing in cities and campuses. Current home: Cassell college Favourite types of food: Anything savory, spicy and sour. Favourite types of drink: fruit juices and herbal tea. Hobbies/past times: Strumming his guitar, catching up with the latest events, volunteering at shelters, doing music videos, watching YouTube videos, trying out recipes, sketching, crafting, documenting plants, napping, playing video games with his sister, bird watching, foraging, gossiping with people. Guilty pleasures: Erotic novels, late night snacking, staying up late to watch livestreams, consuming copious amount of jams and spreads. Pet peeves: When people didn’t finish their food, the sound of chalkboard being scratched, strangers touching him out of nowhere, being underestimated, going on unplanned trips, noodles not cooked right. Pets: Bebe (Citron cockatoo), Astro (African Grey parrot), Marmalade and Cream (cockatiel), Onyx (crow)

#bayonetta oc #bayonetta #dragon raja #dragon raja oc #dragon raja mc #ocs #my oc #my art #original character #may or may not change #right now i'm in a bayo binge and this hits me #he lost his memories after the war and recently regains them during his time in college

[spideyholland3000]

Marvel Short Story

“Beat That”

Warnings: None

[Gifs are not mine]

Scrunching her eyes in determination, Nat ran through the backyard of Tony’s Lakeside Cabin. Her legs pumping as she gathered speed, the experienced Russian spy leapt from her position on the ground onto one of Morgan’s swings that was already swinging relatively high as it had been caught in a particularly blustery draft of wind.

Only swinging once to reach the highest point the swing could go, Nat jumped off of the swing, vaulted over the rest of the play set, and landed on the ground, not a hair out of place.

With eyes shining and body pumping with adrenaline, she stood up and leaned against the wooden castle like structure Tony had built for his daughter.

“Beat that,” she said with a smile on her face.

“Easy peasy,” I replied from where she had started. I eyed the swing that was still swinging at an odd angle from where Nat had left it, and calculated the length of the jumps and at what angle I should jump from. The imaginary blue lines filled with triangles and math equations spread across the field.

I was ready.

Leaping forward, the entire world seemed to fall away. The whole world was bright and sunny on a gorgeous fall day, but the only thing I was focused on was that swing. Nat’s cocky smirk was everywhere, making me press on harder, dig my boots into the ground faster. I had to win.

As I reached the swing I flipped up onto it without any hesitation. The wind had my back, and had blown it in the direction that I was. The momentum of the combined weight of me and gravity spurred me forward like a catapult, sending me up and over the castle structure, flipping twice before landing beside Nat with a slight bend in my knees.

“Okay, kid. That was good,” Nat rolled her eyes, but there was a glowing smile of pride on her face. She had shown me this. I was the product of her blood, sweat and tears and years of training.

“Good?” I replied, slightly out of breath. “I’d say it was much better than yours,”

“Oh really?” She raised an eyebrow at me. “I wouldn’t get too cocky just yet. Watch and learn,”

I looked on as my mentor and personal friend scaled the tallest tree in the entire forest. With grace and balance, Nat leapt from branch to branch as if they were hot coals, barely staying on one for more than two seconds. The perfect execution of each leap allowed her to get to the top in under ten seconds, it seemed.

“How’s the weather up there?” I called out to her from my spot on the ground, hoping to shake her concentration.

“Shut up,” she yelled down at me, grinning as she seemed to channel an inner monkey and jumping from tree to tree, swinging from branch to branch as if she weren’t a black widow, but an orangutan.

I can do this, I thought to myself, even though the tree had turned into two trees with the dizziness I felt growing. I shook my head to return the two trees to one before scaling it as Nat had done. The tough bark cut into my callused hands, making them sting, but not bleed. I climbed higher and higher, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.

Nat, already yards away from the tree I was in, waves at me as I reached the top. “Come on, slowpoke, I thought you said I was better than you,”

I glared at her, the competition in the front of my mind. I had to beat her.

Throughout my whole life I’d been competitive. My older brother taught me that if you don’t push your way to the finish line, you’re never going to get there, because no one is going to stand aside and let you have the gold medal. You have to earn it for yourself.

But now at the top of the tree, at least forty feet above the ground, looking down, I didn’t feel like a winner anymore. The ground seemed to sink lower and lower, further away. If I fell....

No. I couldn’t think about that. I had to win.

But I could die. My crippling fear of heights had caught up with me, but my annoying competitiveness had caused me to bite off far more than I could chew. No one knew I was afraid of heights. I had always volunteered for ground jobs when the Avengers and I went on missions, so I’d never come across something like this before.

“Come on!” she called at me, even further away by now. “Or do you forfeit?”

That was enough for me to hear. Like an angry driver slamming down the gas pedal, the desire to prove myself sent me forward off of the branch, but it was more of a thrust than a jump.

And I misjudged the length of the gap.

I saw Nat’s gloating eyes turn to a sudden fear as I started plummeting towards the forest floor. I knew this was going to happen, I knew it, I knew it. I was going to die, or at least break so many bones it was going to hurt like the Hulk throwing Loki all over the place.

The ground was suddenly right there in front of me, and although at the top of the tree it seemed like miles and miles down below me, it now seemed like only inches.

Suddenly, whiplash caused by changing directions sent me jolting backwards against strong arms. I was no longer falling anymore, but I was soaring, or rather, swinging, through the forest. Landing on the top of Mr. Stark’s cabin, Peter hugged me tight as if the world might end.

However, unbeknownst to him, the cabin roof was still way too high for me.

“Heights, Peter,” I gasped at him, my breath lost and my voice thin. “Heights,”

He immediately realized what he had done and carefully used his webs to lower us down onto the porch where Nat was waiting.

“You okay kid?” she asked. “I saw you fall, what made you jump like that? That was not what I taught you-”

“Heights,” Peter told her as he held my shaking body, “she’s afraid of heights,” His tone was super protective, something I hadn’t heard before from him. It calmed me down, as if I had someone watching over me.

The color drained from Nat’s face as her joking demeanor changed drastically. Kneeling down beside me and Peter, she looked into my eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I should have known. I’ll stay out of the trees with you from now on,” she replied, her voice unusually soft.

I nodded, catching my breath. “Okay,”

“Do you want some pancakes? I heard Mr. Stark’s been making your favorites,” Peter asked.

“The heart shaped ones?” I asked, excitement growing.

“Yep,” he laughed. “Let’s go get some pancakes, okay?”

With that, he led me into the house.

#peter parker #natasha romanov #marvel #marvel stories #short stories #platonic

[glassprism]

hey gp! love your thoughtful reviews. i've been working my way through your recs and was wondering if you have any updates to your list at post/74663113337? i'm especially intrigued by your mention of performers you had to take out, but was also wondering if you have any more recent faves? thanks so much!

I think I made a similar post updating my recommended videos from that post, but you know what, I can make another! (Though given it’s been six years, I’ve completely forgotten who were the “less common faves” I took out, ha.)

All of these are videos (maybe one day I’ll make a separate post adding audios, but videos are easier right now). Some are old faves, others are newer. Some have links to them in my masterpost, but even the ones that don’t are pretty common, and if they’re not, I’ll note it. Even then, there are streams of Phantom-y bootlegs basically every week and almost all of these videos have been featured there, so even if you can’t find or trade for these, you still have opportunities to view them! Now, onto the videos themselves...

London

March 2019, Thaxton/Mathieson/Taylor: Probably the best video to come out of London in almost a decade, so it gives a great look at the London production as it is now. It also has a fantastic cast: David Thaxton is a very solid Phantom while Kelly Mathieson’s Christine is an absolute standout.

Broadway/National Tour

March 2, 2005, Panaro/Hanson/Cudia (Bway): Breaking the previous rule on not putting in Hugh Panaro, as when that post was made he had not even left. But he’s been gone a while and is getting less mentioned. However, I also put this in for Julie Hanson and John Cudia. This is a video to watch if you want to see a great trio of actors whose interpretations fit together almost perfectly - Panaro providing the slightly nutty Phantom, Hanson a traumatized, child-like Christine, and Cudia her protective guardian.

August 8, 2008, Crivello/Holden/Ragone (Las Vegas): I did not recommend any Vegas videos in the previous post, possibly because neither of the videos available at the time were that great, but now we have this! Absolutely the best video of the Vegas production, a must-see for the little tweaks they did not, not just to the script to shorten it to one act, but to the effects.

February 19, 2014, Grodin/Udine/Jacoby (National Tour): The restaged tour is gone and unlikely to come back, at least for now, so why not watch a video of what it was like? After seeing all the replicas, it makes for a fun time to see all the changes they made and compare it to the original. Plus, watching Grodin’s Phantom makes for a good roast. (You can also watch a video with almost the same cast save for Grace Morgan as Christine; she and Julia Udine are both good, but this one is slightly better filmed IMO.)

September 2018, Crawford/Ewoldt/Johnson (Bway): Probably the best of the recent Broadway videos, gives you a nice sense of what the Broadway production is like right now. Crawford is also the current Broadway Phantom, so you can see what his interpretation is, and Ali Ewoldt is fantastic, plus the first Asian-American Christine on Broadway.

International

Mexico, 2000, Vasconcelos/Terrazas/Joel: Breaking another rule... this video replaces the January 14, 2001 Mexico video, because this one blows it out of the water. Full show, professionally shot for cast and crew, featuring the principal cast all the way, and it is incredible. Saulo Vasconcelos’s Phantom needs to be seen, he does things no other Phantom has ever done. The only downside is that this video is kind of rare, but it gets streamed VERY frequently.

Hungary, 2003, Miller/Kiraly/Hommonay: I’m trying to add more non-replicas to the list, as there’s a real lack of footage and therefore attention given to them. So I’m putting in this one, even though it’s fairly old and also, I believe, from a dress rehearsal, so the actors are a little more laid-back than they would be. But it is the full show and gets you a decent look at it, and Zoltan Miller is probably my favorite of the Hungarian Phantoms, even though he noticeably lowers a lot of the score.

Russia, March 7, 2015, Ermak/Kotova/Zaycev: The Russian production had not even opened when I wrote that post, but I have to recommend something from it, as it was genuinely one of the best productions I’ve seen in recent years: enthusiastic cast, tons of photos, lots of attention from fans, and several great bootlegs. This video is not just one of the best of the production itself, it’s probably one of the best Phantom bootlegs period - great filming with tons of closeups, almost no obstruction, basically the full show, and a terrific cast. It used to be really rare but it’s getting pretty common now.

Denmark, March 2019, Kofod/Glosted/Lund: The Danish productions have always received raves from those who have seen it, but with such a lack of video footage, it never got much attention. That all changed with this boot, and let me tell you, the production deserved it. This has one of the best trios I’ve ever seen, and one of the most vibrant casts in general, where it feels like thought and detail was put into every line, every bit of blocking. Add to the fact that the video itself is great, and you have a highly recommended bootleg.

World Tour, May 23, 2019, Roxmouth/Picerno/Leisy: The only production currently running right now, but I’m also recommending this because it, and Roxmouth’s Phantom, have received massive amounts of attention. (That, and Picerno’s Christine is the current principal on Broadway, so you can have a look at her too.) This video is terrific quality and of the full show, however it does suffer from pretty bad framerate drops, so if you have a tendency to get motion-sick, you might want to refrain from seeing this. But if not, definitely check this video out.

#Anonymous #GP gets asks

[bugaboowritings]

Punk!Marinette - A Short Drabble-

Marinette Helps Adrien out of a Tree

 I have been going down holes as I avoid spoilers. Even found my unfinished writing about Punk! Marinette just had to polish it up. Inspired from art under the punk Marinette tag and @musicfeedsmysoul12 who wrote some things on this au. 

Also I’m slowly posting my work at ao3 to make it easier to find, my username is bugaboo0scrambles for anyone interested. 

Marinette clicked her tongue with satisfaction. Admiring her work with her mirror. With years and years of practice, applying winged eyeliner still seems like a game of Russian roulette. Going perfectly amazing or making her say “screw it” before giving herself a smoky eye to cover it up the ‘step-sisters’ she painted on her lids. Yet, it was a part of her routine, something she kept since that summer ago spent watching strangers talk about products and brushes.

The laces on her boots drew out the gap between leather and skin as if it was a long sign. Marinette tugged on her laces tighter before reaching a fixed level of security. Fitting in like a second skin. Her hand smoothed over her slick new shoes, relishing its aesthetic allure and not helping the snicker that came up her throat. The heels on this pair were a whopping 3 and a half inches. Nothing major compared to the other shoes on display in the market, but it was enough to give her the needed height to make her a pinch taller then Alya.

With that, she carefully went down the stairs. Watching her step as she got comfortable to the new height. Accepting her death only twice while she barely caught herself from tumbling down the stairs.

Stuffing the long laces into the inside of her boots before making it out of the backdoor of the house. Her hand on the doorknob, other on her hip. Calling out to her parent goodbye as the front of the bakery buzzed with customers.

Nibbled on her maroon-stained lips before checking the trash can. Emptying it to before her parents forgot about it.  

The fresh air outside was mixed with the sounds of cars and that horrible unidentifiable “alley smog” rushing to her head. Pushing the plastic bag out the doorway and into the alley. Stepping out before her dad escaped the customers to plot a kiss on her daughter’s head. His beard carried traces of flour while his apron was clean except the splash of fruit-filling by his knee. Wishing Marinette good luck at school before he rushed to get more ingredients as her mother yelled from the front to take care.

Marinette lightly swept her bangs to get rid of her father’s messy, flour kiss. All while her nose crinkled at the smell of day-old eggshells and butter wrappers. Holding her breath and feeling her wrist twist as she opened the dumpster to throw in the trash. Not helping the gag that came up as the garbage smelt of sun-baked vomit cookies. Letting go of the metal lid causing it to slam shut. If her caffeinated tea didn’t wake her up, then that harsh sound did. Even scaring off the black cat that slept peacefully before screeching off into the street.

-----

“How lame.” Chloe scoffed. Rolling her head like a rag doll as she raised her sunnies from her clear-blue eyes. Her nails, done and polished, flicked the lone blonde strand over her ear.

“Nice shoes, Mari!” She yelled. Booming her voice through the quad. “Matches the whole clown suit too!”

Marinette flipped her off without even looking in her direction. Making her way to the other end of the school to meet up Alya. The one classmate that could manage a conversation with her without being intimidated.

Alya typed swiftly on her keyboard without bothering to look at the keys. A skill that Marinette envied and Alya swore to be like second nature after months of drafting sharp observations over comics, movies and Paris local heroes on her blogs. She sported the denim jacket Marinette decorated for her with patches and pins all with a khaki pleated skirt. Topping it off with her very own white-tee. Her new merch, a commission by Marinette, for her Ladyblog.  

“Alya.”

“Marinette.”

Marinette threw her bag under her before lifting her ankles to cross her legs. Rocking back and forth, waiting for the typing to slow down. Once it did, it reached a sudden stop.

Alya sighed and saved her work before tugging her bag on her lap. Sliding her laptop out of harm’s way.

“I got a new scoop last night.” Alya grinned. Relaxing into her seat. Crossing her glossy legs.

“You will never believe what I saw, girl!” Jumping on Marinette as stars lit up in her eyes. A quick transition from her blank expression earlier. Marinette, knowing where this was going, played dumb.

“Let me guess,” Mari hummed, narrowing her eyes at nothing in the distance. Only to get spooked when Alya shook her.

“AHH! I can’t wait! Just let me tell you!!”

Smirking at the journalist. Alya, as if her tongue was on fire, spit on her amazing story.

There she, in the middle of the night, getting a drink of water. Like how she always did when she was staying up late for an article. Only to hear a loud noise outside. Assuming it’s an Akuma before considering the idea of an earthquake happening in the middle of Europe or a plane crash. Incentively fishing for her phone to see the most amazing sight ever. The greatest thing to hit theaters in its time. The most inspiring and jaw-dropping things to ever live in black and white. The scaly, creepy Godzilla! Stomping out the streets of Paris in the dead of night. Apartments lights flicked on as the beast strolled through the street. Holding in its roars as it tossed its tail. Missing a building by a hair. With a “zip” and a “wow”, the Parian hero duo leaped neighborhoods and buildings. Chat Noir tossed his baton in the air, saving Ladybug by the fraction of second from being dino-chum as she twirled up into the air. Ladybug’s yo-yo looped around the monster swiftly with her momentum, tripping the beast toward the bottom of the Eiffel tower. With Chat Noir’s cataclysm ready, Ladybug called on her lucky charm and-  

“- and Agreste at 10.” Alya murmured. Watching Adrien come through the front door with Nino by his side. Laughing at each other as they look back to Nino’s phone. Marinette turned around, groaning- knowing this morning routine too well. Trying to make herself seem smaller as she pushed back her shoulders. Hoping to go under notice. Already feeling his lime-green eyes on her back.

“I’ll be hiding in a tree or at the art studio, whatever I reach first.” Already grieving the loss of a perfectly good morning. “Text me if you need me.”

“See ya.” Alya waved. Slumping back to the bench as Marinette rushed away in the opposite direction of Adrien.

-----

“Marinette!”

“Agreste.”

“Ah. . .Come here often?”

Marinette had to stop the snort that came up her throat. Being a second late as a small chuckle left her lips. Having to shut down her face to not give Adrien the fuel to keep going. Bring back that dull expression as she watched Adrien struggle a little bit more.

“I don’t usually come here, but if I do I’m not dangling out of trees.”

“Uh,” Agreste hummed. Unsure what to say as he felt the tingling of blood rushing to his head competed with the deep blush that appeared on his cheeks. Or maybe that was just the pain of his blood rushing to head. Yeah, maybe it was the blood rushing to his head. 

On the bright side, however, it made it harder to see if he’s blushing.

“I’m practicing my tree climbing. . . ?” He smugly answered. 

“Practicing,” Marinette repeated. Letting that lame reason melt on her tongue before she even thought of accepting it. Crossing her arms as she stuck her leg out. Her heel rocked back and forth on the dirt. Creating a little hole as she thought this over.

“I’m not one to try and get into someone’s business-”

“You’re not getting in my business. I MEan, I-I don’t mind you asking about it. .!”

Marinette kissed her teeth. “Right . . . “

Biting her lips as she left out a long sigh. Pitching the bridge of her nose, the click on her rings hitting her septum piercing. She’ll regret this, she knows it already. She just had to humor him, even if it was a little longer.

“So Agreste. I would hate to bother this,” Marinette motioned. Her hands raised up and down and around. “But you seem like you need help? Do you need help to get down?”

“. . .Actually, yeah.”

----

“Why is Marinette pulling Adrien out of a tree?” Alix questioned. Pointing out the window when Alya and Mylene came over. Her finger covering the odd scene outside.

The three girls press their faces up the glass as they watched the commotion outside unfold.

“It looks like Marinette is shoving him in a tree to me...” Alya mumbled. Squinting her eyes before she removed her glasses. Rubbing them quickly against her shirt before pushing them back up her face.

Mylene bit her thumb, “Do you think we should go and help them? Maybe they-”

A muffled thump hit the ground. A puff of dirt rising in the air, covering the teens outside. Coughing as they waved the dust away. Marinette smoothed the dirt off her jacket as Adrien groaned.

“I think they’re fine.” Alya hummed. Returning to her notebook.

“Okay, so what did you get for question seven?”

#ml #ml au #punk! Marinette #punk Marinette #Marinette #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #fic #ml fic #short drabble #my writings #ml fanfic #My writing

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 30

Chapter Summary -  Danielle wakes up in a very enviable place, next to a naked Tom. Can the pair make up for lost time?

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog  @jessibelle-nerdy-mum@nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle groaned as she heard the alarm go off, she wanted nothing more than to sleep for another ten minutes, or perhaps a day. It was only when she was reaching around she groaned, not able to find her bedside locker.

“I have it.” A deep voice groaned from behind her. That shocked her, and she turned to see the speaker, only to nearly fall as she did so. “I have you.” She stared as Tom grabbed her. “You’re a tad skittish in the morning.” He smiled kindly as he pulled her back to him, this time, her chest to his. Reaching around her, he found the offending phone and tapped on the screen, silencing it. “You said you had work at seven, so I set my alarm for five, since, you know, you had fallen asleep, so we can get you showered and fed before work.”

She looked at him, still trying to process everything, her usually alert brain still not fully awake. “I…thanks.”

“You’re not very good with mornings are you?” the idea of learning something new about her making him smile almost innocently.

“I usually am, but today…” she blushed deeply.

Tom beamed at her. “Did I wear you out?” He asked playfully.

“Not funny.” She leant in, her nose brushing along his neck, looking at the freckles she had never seen on his chest, along with the few hairs, toying with them.

“You know, as much as I adore this time with you, your dallying is not a good thing, you are going to have to get up now, or flip between a good breakfast or a shower, and I would have to urge you towards the shower.”

“Well, that’s what happens when I sleep next to someone like you.” Danielle jested.

“Ouch.” Tom chuckled. “If that happens every time we are in close proximity, I am not going to complain.”

“Do I smell as much as I think I do?”

“Well, to me, you smell very enticing.” Tom grinned, wrapping an arm around her.

“You are supposed to be getting me to get ready for work, remember.”

“You were supposed to get up before my filthy brain remembered I had a beautiful naked woman next to me.” He retorted.

“No, we don’t have time.” She tried to pull away.

“Do you have to go in?”

“Yes, we discussed this before, safety officer.” She turned to get up and went to take the blanket with her.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

“And that includes the blanket, how?”

“You’ll see me naked.”

“Elle, darling, I saw you from every possible angle naked not too long ago, as well as having slept beside you naked, it is safe to say we should be comfortable in this way with each other now.”

“I can’t.”

Tom frowned. “Why not? Do you regret…”

“What, no, it’s just, you’re you, and I’m ordinary.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, I feel like I should be insulted.”

“You are a sexy movie star, I’m just a normal person.”

“You think I’m sexy?” he grinned.

“I’m not answering that right now,” she replied, going red with embarrassment.

“Well, for the record Danielle Hughes.” Tom sat up, intertwining their hands and pulling her around to look him in the eye. “I happen to think you are the sexiest woman in the world or did my eagerness last night not convince you?”

“You really think I’m…you need to get a guide dog.”

Tom erupted in laughter at her. “Not sure how you have the sense of humour you have Elle, but I love it.”

“Great, blind and mad.” She stated dramatically, causing Tom to pull her towards him again and kissing her.

“Shower, and I’ll get you breakfast.”

“You don’t have to, you must be exhausted.”

“Well, you did a lot of it, if my memory serves me correctly.”

“From the jetlag, Tom.”

“Actually, my daft brain is wide awake, much to my body’s chagrin, so I am more than happy to be assistance.” He pulled himself up, groaning as his back ached in the process. “Though next time, I rather we sleep upstairs.”

“I think I suggested it at one point, taking things upstairs.”

“I was in no position to go anywhere, you were finally on my lap, your lips against mine, your…well, there was no way I was stopping things.”

“You are a pervert, Thomas Hiddleston.”

“Guilty, use my guest shower.” He instructed, throwing on his boxers when he got them off the other sofa.

Danielle seized the opportunity to grab the blanket. “Sure, I’ll be down soon.” She promised, collecting her clothes, looking at them oddly as she did.

“Are you worried about everyone seeing you wearing the same clothes?”

“No, just not looking forward to putting on yesterday’s underwear again.”

“Go commando.”

“That doesn’t go too well for women.”

“Seriously?”

“Well not ones that had someone…” she made an odd face. “in them.”

“Speaking of which, do you…?”

“I had bloods done after leaving the paramedics and I’ve had the bar for almost three years.”

“Well, I knew you’d be clean, I just wanted to know if you’d need a trip to Lloyds or Boots before work.”

“I’m good.”

“Good.” Tom scratched his head.

“I better go get showered.”

“Towels are in the storage closet in the hallway.”

“Thanks.” She ran off to get ready.

Tom went into the kitchen and threw together what few bits he had grabbed from the shops on his way home from meeting Benedict. It was essentially breakfast bars and coffee, so he swore to stop at a  shop on their way to the studios. A few minutes later, Danielle came back. “That was fast.”

“Well, you don’t have conditioner,” She shrugged, taking the coffee. “Starting me strong today.”

“I can make you tea if you’d like”

“No, you’re fine, I need this.” She inhaled deeply and sighed. “Yum.”

After a few minutes they rushed out the door, Danielle still not fed properly. There was a Tesco open not far from where the studios were, so Danielle grabbed some food inside, also grabbing clean socks and underwear while she was at it.

“Smart girl.” Tom commended as she jumped back into his Jaguar.

“Down there’s for dancing, remember” She smiled fondly.

“Yeah.” He pulled in outside the studios. “Elle?” she looked at him fearfully. “When is not too soon to see you again?” She was about to speak but he interrupted her. “I mean, I want to see you tonight, but I know that’s going too fast, I just…now that we…I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“How about a meal later, at my hotel?” she suggested. “I have a four am start tomorrow, but it means I’m actually off today at lunch since all the cast is demanding they have some rest.”

“How about I pick you up, and we get a late lunch slash early dinner, that way, you are tucked up in bed by eight to get at least some rest?”

“I’ll see you at one thirty so Mister Hiddleston, so long as that suits.” She grinned.

Tom leant over to her side of the car. “Well, Miss Hughes, until then.” He smiled, kissing her.

Slightly flushed, Danielle got out of the car and watched him reverse and pull off before turning around and walking to the studio security, showing her identification. “So the beautiful Irish girl has a suitor, I was getting worried.” The security guard commented.

“And why is that?” she asked curiously, loving the daily banter she usually had with that guard.

“Because Miss Hughes, if one such as you were to be left on the shelf, what hope is there for a grouchy fart like myself?”

“Do you know what my favourite thing about you is Josef?”

“What is that my dear?”

“Your ability to make even me smile.” She grinned before collecting her bag and walking off. “That is a talent in itself.”

“I would have thought so too, were it not for the way you looked at him.” Daniele stopped walking and turned to look at him. “I see a happy future for you both, you know how I know?” Danielle shook her head. “Because my babushka, my grandmother, she told me as a boy, that only when a man and woman truly love one another, they look equal parts elated and heartbroken, when any goodbye happens, no matter how short. Their sadness in the goodbye, but their elation in merely getting to kiss their loved one again.”

“And they say the Russians don’t know romance.” She smiled, her face slightly reddened.

“Only the American’s say that, but let us face it, what do they know of love? They divorce if their partner snores.”

“That’s true, have a nice day Josef.”

“You too, Ms Hughes.”

“Well, you look like you had a good night.” Danielle turned to see Luke Evans beside her.

“I don’t…”

“Nothing says got fucked each way to next Saturday like turning up to work in your crumpled clothes from yesterday and stinking of…” he sniffed her for a moment. “Men’s shampoo and body gel, you and Hiddles have some fun last night?”

“How?”

“I worked with Tom on High Rise, I went to premières with him, I know his products, and today, you reek of them.” He stated factually.

Danielle went puce as the actor walked off chuckling to himself.

*

Tom – Hey, I need to speak with you, are you at home?

Benedict – It is five to seven in the morning, why are you up?

Tom – Why are you up?

Benedict – I have a toddler, what’s your excuse?

Tom – I want to tell you in person.

Benedict – How far away are you?

Tom – Half an hour.

Benedict – I’ll have the kettle boiled.

#I Hate You I Love You #Chapter 30 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy chapter 213: the classic trope - the enemy of my enemy is my friend - on ice!

This week’s chapter was only slightly shocking with the reappearance of our favorite (and only Russian sniper) Vasily.  I’m going to be a little slower with my turnaround time on the meta for the next little while - my work schedule is less ideal and I’m having a hard time adjusting to it, so please bear with me for the next few months, things will lighten up towards the end of November.

Overall, I’m not surprised at how things went down in this chapter but I’m just feeling “meh” about it.  It seems like a transitional chapter for a realignment of the factions - pretty common by this point in GK.

The chapter then reveals a quick one page flashback of Shiraishi and Asirpa the night before just hanging out in the inn.  This is clearly before Shiraishi went out for drinks later that evening and the innkeeper or inn staff person is casually chatting with them.

She points out that the ferry will be leaving tomorrow morning and that one will have to walk out onto the drift ice to board the ferry so that they should be aware of these things to make sure they make it on time.  Shiraishi has taken the lead with Tanigaki (he’s really a type of man who has no problem following others) and realizing that only he and Asirpa are privy to the information about the ferry back to Hokkaido, he knows that she must be heading there. 

The action then shifts to Asirpa with Sugimoto hiding under a building.  She’s tearing some cloth to back his wounds and this will prevent them from being followed.

This shows how well trained Asirpa was by Wilk.  Just stop and think.  She immediately takes the best action to conceal their location and prevent detection.  Not as harsh as Wilk killing his own comrade like he did in front of Sofia and Kiro but her default thought is to prevent the pursuit of them by the 27th. 

Sugimoto looks like he’s in pain and his face is completely shaded - what is he thinking here?  Is he realizing that Asirpa is a product of Wilk and that his best efforts won’t change the fact that she’s able to do things that indicate her ability to be more proactive?

She then grabs his hand and encourages him that it isn’t that much further to the ship and that he can make it.  She looks up to see a horse approach them and the next panel dramatically reveals Vasily on horseback and he takes up half of the page in a total power pose.  This means that Vasily had been watching them the entire time from a strategic location and followed them to where they were hiding.

Sugimoto looks shocked and a bit hesitant and Asirpa calls him the “hood guy - hoodie/hood-chan in Japanese” based on the nickname that Shiraishi gave him.

He then offers his left hand to them to get onto the horse.  Sugimoto then mentions that perhaps he was wondering if Ogata was hanging back as long as the members of the 27th were around Asirpa and he trails off not completing the statement.  Asirpa looks at him with an almost neutral face.  Whatever she sees in Vasily’s eyes she’s willing to work with him for the time being.

Tanigaki and Shiraishi are still running and Vasily, Asirpa and Sugimoto catch up to them.  Asirpa calls out to Shiraishi and he smiles and yells at her that things were going like he had thought.  She orders him to get on and he does!

These actions say a lot about the relationship between Asirpa and Shiraishi.  Even though she didn’t tell him what her plan was, the two of them were smart enough to have faith and trust in each other that the other knew what the other would do.

I like this so much.  It makes their time on Karafuto mean something substantial.  They really learned how to work with each other and Asirpa and Shiraishi are likely more “on the same page” than Asirpa and Sugimoto are based on his drunken rant to Sugimoto. 

By this point, the poor horse isn’t going to be able to fit anyone else.  Tanigaki then realizes he’s being left behind.  Shiraishi gets a sarcastic remark in that the horse doesn’t have room for him.  It is clear that this is linked to the fact that Tanigaki killed Kiro.  I don’t see Shiraishi ever forgiving him for that action.

Asirpa then tells Tanigaki he can’t come along b/c Inkarmat is still under the “care” of Tsurumi.  As she says this Shiraishi does not look pleased, his eyes are half closed with his mouth down turned just a touch.  He likely has mixed feelings on Inkarmat, he was friendly with her but when she sold them out to the 27th and her kerfuffle with Kiro accidentally resulted in her injury Tanigaki went straight for revenge instead of asking for clarification which had to have upset Shiraishi.  At the time of Kiro’s death Shiraishi felt hurt and confused, it is clear now with some time he has come to respect and understand Kiro’s actions and he likely is judging the fact that even though Tanigaki loves Inkarmat, he doesn’t understand her “situation” as an Ainu.

What really shocks me the most is how as he’s running he almost seems to realize that “Oh yeah.  Inkarmat. Right - the whole reason I went on my second revenge quest.” 

At least he finally blurts out what he had been alluding to - that the 27th would be watching Asirpa’s kotan.  She looks sad when he tells her she can’t go back but he should tell her Huci that she had a dream where they meet again.  The next page she declares to him that “she will absolutely be back again.”

Tanigaki then falls behind and the trio looks back at him.  Shiraishi tells him to take care of himself but his facial expression is anything but kind or caring.  I don’t think Shiraishi is a vindictive person but it is clear he’s fine with Tanigaki left in the hands of the 27th.  He knows what kind of man he is.  Sugimoto finally glances back with a frown also disappointed looking.

As Tanigaki runs out of steam Kikuta catches up to him also looking quite exhausted.  You may want to cut back on the cigarettes Kikuta.  He then asks Tanigaki if he was with Shiraishi and what happened to him?  Tanigaki then lies to him and points and tells him that Shiraishi met up with Asirpa and Sugimoto and headed back to the town.

Kikuta then asks him why he isn’t chasing after them, looking distressed.  All Tanigaki does is reply that he’s a Matagi and Kikuta is like “what?”.  This fits with the past information that Nikaido had no idea about Kikuta and Ariko, and that they were in a different regiment of the 7th during the war and did not meet until now.

Tanigaki then gets a very dramatic half page image of himself stating that he’s Tanigaki the Matagi as sunlight streams down behind him and he looks confident back at Kikuta. He’s flushed a little and still breathing heavily but seems less hesitant than he normally is.

What does this even mean?  Has Asirpa yelled some sense into Tanigaki to remember what is priorities are?  She removed him from the “Asirpa side quest” since she had decided she will make it home her own way in the future.  It is clear he wasn’t going to remove himself from the Asirpa side quest.

Vasily, Sugimoto, Asirpa and Shiraishi have safely made it onto the ferry and Shiraishi is concerned that the still need to get the bullets out of Sugimoto as Asirpa looks on concerned.  As usual Shiraishi wonders how Suigmoto is still going but he finally owns up tells Asirpa that he’s fighting for the gold for his own reasons.  He’s no longer under the guise of using Asirpa softly.  What I mean by that, is he aligned with her first to make sure that Noppera-bou would be no longer useless and then killed.  He then chased after her to rescue her from Kiro and Ogata and to remove her from the gold hunt.  Now he’s at least owning up to the fact that his own personal reasons are driving him.

Vasily mumbles a little to get their attention and point out a man from the 27th picked up on Sugimoto’s blood trail and was trying to stop the ship from leaving.  Shiraishi then determines that Vasily could - should be able to hit him from that distance based on experience.

Asirpa tells him to hit his foot to incapacitate him by tapping on his boots.  Vasily takes aim and - snipes him right in the forehead between the eyes.  Well, it looks like Vasily is the type of sniper that Ogata determined he was during their battle.  He want for the most efficient and effective kill despite what Asirpa said.  Keep in mind that when Ogata facilitated the escape of Shiraishi and Sugimoto from the 27th in chapter 98, Sugimoto leapt out the window with Shiraishi and Ogata shot the man in the shoulder slowing them down and preventing anyone from following out the window.  When they escaped from Edogai’s house, Ogata also shot at others but didn’t hit them between the eyes like Maeyama, he flushed them towards the front door instead.

He also followed Asirpa’s directions to save Tanigaki without shooting anyone.  It is clear that Vasily is a different type of sniper than Ogata.  He shot Shiraishi in the hope he’d flush Ogata out since he is a more compassionate comrade and will come to the aid of others at his own risk.  Ogata frequently avoids unnecessary damage when possible.  The last fatality that is known in the manga is when he shot Ilya, Vasily’s partner to allow them to rescue the wounded man, escape and set up his trap for Vasily.

Asirpa nervously inquires if Vasily hit his foot while Shiraishi tells him good job and pats him on the shoulder.  The sweat and shading on Shiraishi’s face likely indicates he’s a bit uncomfortable with Vasily but he’s got the binoculars, so he knows exactly what Vasily did even if he likely disagrees with it as well.

Vasily looks dead serious as he still keeps his rifle at ready.

Tsurumi heard the gunshot and stated it came from the ocean.  He and Usami head that direction.  Shiraishi nervously declares that they did it and they were able to escape from them and Karafuto as Asirpa glances back concerned.

There is a beautiful panel as Sugimoto and Asirpa look back towards the land and Karafuto across the water.  Sugimoto looks back firmly while Asirpa has a blush/flush across her face as she looks back a changed person.

Tsurumi noticed the man shot dead on the ice with the boat in the distance.  He then notices the abandoned horse.

Shiraishi mentions how it will take about 3 hours to reach the port in Hokkaido.  He then asks why the time that they escaped was when they chose to do so.  Sugimoto says if Asirpa were under the control of Tsurumi’s men, then she’d have no chance of escape and Shiraishi adds in that they may have just taken her into custody since she’s not required to track the the few remaining convicts.

This is all pretty interesting since Sugimoto is speaking for what was Asirpa’s plan.  Shiraishi is the escape king, so I could see his reason to wonder why they chose this time and I’m guessing he would have done things a little differently even though it worked so far.

Sugimoto then goes on to explain that if they find the gold they will decide how it is used. He states that he now understands that Asirpa will stay strong on her dedication to not killing anyone.  He uses this to reason that if she is true to her own beliefs than she will find her own way to protect the Ainu.  He’s decided that he will believe in her and her beliefs.

Asirpa smiles and blushes as he says this.  I’m glad to see that Sugimoto has decided that maybe he should take her own feelings and opinions into account, but he’s still setting himself up to likely hurt and kill others in the future. 

Plus, Shiraishi adds in that it is a fine idea, but he points out a major issue - how are they going to find the gold all by themselves.  His point is 100% valid.  They have no skins and just the code.  Are they thinking of meeting up with Hijikata again?

Of course the last page ends with an explosion in the water near the ferry and a navy vessel in pursuit of them!  Next up a battle at sea!

Conclusions and a few quick hypotheses.

1.) Vasily is an ally for now.

But I don’t see him being loyal or faithful to their group at all.  Sugimoto is shit at reading people when it comes to Ogata.  I’m under the indication that ALL Vasily wants is to continue his sniper game with Ogata.  I don’t even know if he wants to win or lose either.  He just wants to get back into that mindset.  By the way Vasily - you lost.

2.) What is Asirpa’s plan?

Okay, Asirpa got them out of the clutches of Tsurumi as she determined he was not a man to align with.  She appears to have gotten Sugimoto on her side with the help of Shiraishi but what are they going to do?  We still don’t know the result of their argument after the movie.  Did she tell him the code or withhold it?  Is she looking to reconnect with Hijikata? This has got to be in the works - with the photos in Hijikata’s possession and all, Shiraishi’s understanding of his media plan will come back into the plot. How will she navigate the quest with no skins and only a clue to the code which will still need the help of a Japanese person to read the kanji.  She showed great faith and trust in Shiraishi and vice versa so hopefully she’s figured something out. 

3.) Tanigaki the dense Matagi.

Tanigaki got ditched hardcore for both strategic and personal reasons.  He had become a liability just like Inkarmat was pre-Abashiri.  His entire reason for being involved with the gold quest has been to avoid going back home to Ani.  He’s much more comfortable being told what to do and he needed Asirpa to tell him that he needed to stay with Tsurumi for Inkarmat. 

He only had the grace that Kikuda didn’t know him and know that he’s a terrible liar when he was running.  He will likely get caught in that lie as soon as he sees Tsurumi again who is already in pursuit of them on a naval vessel likely with Koito Sr.

Kikuta is also likely trying to figure out how to do what Tsurumi wants from him while feeling torn about Ariko. 

I’m curious to see the fall out with Koito, Tsukishima, Tanigaki and Kikuta but likely we will get Tsurumi and Admiral Koito who recall talked to Sugimoto who now stabbed his son.  Yeah. . . .

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #sugimoto saichi #asirpa #Shiraishi Yoshitake #tanigaki genjirou #warrant officer kikuta #tsurumi tokushirou #vasily #ogata hyakunosuke #hijikata toshizo

[badacts]

aw, rats

It’s Hawkeye’s fault, really.

That’s sort of an ongoing theme in Bucky’s life these days. He has never met anyone else so incredibly and unerringly attracted to bullshit drama - even compared to Steve - and, unlike Steve, Clint never even hesitates to drag other people into his mess.

It’s probably terrible that Bucky finds that a little bit comforting. It’s hard to seem like the biggest fuck-up in the room when you’re sharing that room with Clint Barton.

“This is a fucking disaster,” Bucky mutters, mostly to himself but still distinctly loud enough for Clint to hear.

“You know, you complain a lot for someone who was a mindless killing machine for like a century,” Hawkeye replies from up ahead, because tact is apparently for other people.

“Gotta make up for the years I missed,” Bucky says, instead of fuck you fuck you fuck you. That century mellowed him. “Forgive me for not wanting to be stuck underground with you.”

“With me, in particular? Ouch. Who’s your prefered tunnel-buddy?” Clint asks. “Oh, wait, Steve. Duh.”

“Hulk,” Bucky corrects. “Instant open-air tunnel. I always thought trains should be above ground, not below it.”

Clint gives him an almost-concerned look that Bucky can only just make out. “This isn’t triggering for you, is it?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You think I’d be dumb enough to get in a subway tunnel if I was scared of trains?”

“Okay, being triggered by something isn’t necessarily the same as being scared of something, but I’m not your therapist. Also, forgive me for thinking for a second there that the dude who died falling off a train might have some unspoken issues about trains.”

“I didn’t die,” Bucky corrects, because it annoys him when people say that. He didn’t come back from the dead, he’s been around the whole goddamn time. “And you’re right, you're not my therapist, so shut the fuck up.”

“Rude,” Clint mutters, but he does fall silent. That’s unusual for him, but maybe he’s embarrassed about the train thing. “We’re not far off. Start hoping for an easy egress point.”

They’re down here because Clint pissed off Steve enough to send him - and therefore Bucky, his current field partner - to work alongside the field agents on the ground, and then pissed off the CO enough to be sent underground to cover the underside of what is a battle with a group of robots. There’s not much chance they’ll drop below street level, which would be a blessing for most people but is annoying to Bucky. He has some pent up aggression he wouldn’t mind unleashing onto a laser-wielding robot or twelve.

There’s some noise that isn’t Clint up ahead, and Bucky squints into the dark. Clint has a flashlight, the circle of light from which is bobbing back and forth across the floor and walls. Bucky’s low-light vision is pretty good - hence why he’s not carrying a flashlight himself - but all he can tell is that it’s not a robot. In his experience, they’re not that subtle.

After a moment the sound gets a little louder, and the shape of it coalesces into something recognisable.

“Ugh, rat,” Clint mutters, right as said rat skitters past him and then Bucky, within a few inches of Bucky’s boot.

The little Winter-Soldier-processing voice in his head says, Rattus norvegicus, 9 inches. The Bucky-Barnes voice says, oh fuck.

He’s not proud. He freezes solid.

Clint continues on for a few metres before realising that Bucky isn’t moving. “Barnes?”

His voice doesn’t quite cover the movements Bucky can hear, little paws on metal and concrete, getting closer. Furry little bodies and sharp teeth. That is, of course, because it’s in Bucky’s head. That doesn’t mean he can shake it.

“Bucky?” Clint asks again, this time from much closer, although not inside of arm’s reach. Smart. “You’re okay.”

Bucky half-heartedly reaches up to cover his ears, and then stops himself. There’s no point.

“Hey,” Clint says, from closer again - not so smart, yet not surprising - and then reaches out with both hands to cover Bucky’s ears himself. They’re warm, and although hands in general aren’t good at blocking out sound, they do break Bucky out of his stupor a little. “What’s your status?” His voice comes over the earpiece Bucky is wearing, the doubling a more distant muttering through flesh.

“Great,” Bucky lies like a rug. He hisses when Clint jostles him. “Not much of an alternative, Hawkeye. There’s robots.”

Clint says, “Right hand.”

Bucky raises the aforementioned hand and replaces Clint’s palm over his own ear. A moment later, there’s fingers at his belt in the pocket he keeps earplugs in. Bucky submits to Clint pulling out his earpiece and inserting the earplugs with brisk easy movements.

With them in place, he can’t hear anything besides the impression of his quick-tripping heart, the rush of air into his lungs. It’s better. Not great, but better.

Clint moves so their eyes meet in the dimness, and signs, Status? Bucky nods back.

Clint takes him at that, pointing back over his shoulder in the direction they were heading. He signs, Stay close, presumably because he’ll now hear anything coming long before Bucky does. It’s ironic, and not in a good way.

Bucky breathes in and then exhales in a rush, the noise a whitewash. Then he slips in at Clint’s back, and follows.

The embarrassment - that comes later.

They’re back on the quinjet, tired but cheerfully rowdy after an uncomplicated victory with minimal collateral damage. Well, most of them: Bucky is in his head more than usual, stuck back in that frozen moment.

He’s still - scared, sometimes. In ways that surprise him even now. He’s had enough therapy to understand that that’s normal, and that, if he was a completely catatonic wreck, he’d be entitled to that, too. Instead, he’s mostly well in the ways that matter, and he’s out here with a purpose, fear or no fear.

He gets nightmares, and he has triggers - unfamiliar male voices speaking Russian, sudden uncontrolled falling, or the texture of liquid food products - but they get him when he’s alone, or at night, or lost in crowds of strangers.

It’s different to feel that sticky fearful moment when it counts. Usually Bucky is all professionalism on the job. Except all it took was a rodent, and he cracked.

It’s not good enough. He’s not good enough, and he’s always had a sneaking suspicion that that was the case, but he didn’t expect to have it proved to him like this.

So, he’s quiet. He can feel the flickering attention of the others, on him and then off again, but he can mostly ignore it. It’s Clint’s eyes that he feels more than most, because Steve had asked them when they met at the ‘jet whether everything had gone smoothly - with only a fraction of smug satisfaction - and Clint hadn’t mentioned Bucky’s fuck-up at all, and Bucky has no idea what to do with that.

When the ‘jet touches down, Steve stands and resecures the shield on his back. “Right. Debrief in ten.” Everyone groans, though Steve is predictably unmoved. “The sooner we do it, the sooner it’s over with, people. Ten minutes.”

Most of them stop via the locker room, Bucky included. He slips off his jacket - heavy kevlar in navy, not black leather (Stark had looked taken aback and then amused at the idea of leather, and then had lectured Bucky about how wearing proper bullet-proof body armour is better than looking ‘hot’ but getting gutshot, ignoring that Bucky hadn’t chosen his old gear) - but leaves his uniform pants on with an undershirt. His weapons he stows, besides the ones he always keeps on him.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says, slinging his helmet into his own locker. Bucky really should have seen this coming. “Alright?”

“Fine,” Bucky replies, only slightly through his teeth. It’s not that he wants to tell Steve, but he can’t shake the feeling that he should, except for that Clint didn’t, and he’s technically the senior agent - fuck it. “Debrief?”

“Sure,” Steve accepts easily, though Bucky knows well enough that it may or may not be an attempt at lulling him into a sense of security for when Steve asks the same question again later.

Bucky is walking through the conference room door when a hoodie-wearing Hawkeye bumps him and mutters, hurriedly, “Are you pissed at me?” under his breath.

His expression is so genuinely concerned that Bucky immediately replies, “No?” It’s true, anyway. He doesn’t know what he is, but it isn’t angry. Clint nods a little and then takes his seat between Widow and Falcon, leaning companionably into Natasha’s shoulder until she shoves him back.

The debrief itself goes smoothly - even the predictable bickering is kept to a minimum. It’s only a half-hour before they’re released. Most of the others head for the main kitchen to eat, but Bucky ducks into his rooms and showers to avoid the rush. Once he’s clean and dressed down in sweatpants, he collapses on his back on his half-made bed with the thought that he’ll nap for a half-hour. The next thing he knows, his stomach is waking him as it tries to devour itself. His phone, when he gropes for it amongst the blankets, says it’s after ten at night.

If not for his body demanding sustenance, he’d probably roll over and go back to sleep, but the need for calories outweighs his desire to stay in bed. Cursing himself for not at least getting a snack before his shower - his metabolism, like Steve’s, requires very regular calorie-dense meals - he digs out a clean shirt and makes for the kitchen.

The upside of it being late is that it’s empty - or, Bucky realises, nearly empty. Clint is sitting up on the back of the couch in the adjoining lounge, his feet on the cushions as he watches the muted television and eats out of bowl in his lap.

“You didn’t tell Steve,” Bucky says, and Clint nearly hits the roof.

“Jesus fuck!” he says, whirling around. “Christ, Barnes, make noise when you move, I’m begging you.”

“You’re wearing your aids.” Bucky checked. They’re a sleek metallic purple, easy to spot.

“I need more than them to hear you creeping around,” Clint mutters, resettling himself on the back of the couch so he’s facing Bucky, feet bumping swinging gently below him. It looks like he’s eating cereal, of all things. “What didn’t I tell Steve about?”

Bucky gives him a speaking look. Clint stares back at him blankly, brow furrowed. Bucky sighs.

“I lost it today,” he says.

“What!” Clint squawks, breathing in sharply. “When?”

“...in the tunnel?” Now Bucky is confused, too.

“Oh, that? That’s not ‘losing it’, Barnes, jeez.”

“I froze, whatever,” Bucky corrects unwillingly. “Got ‘triggered’.” That last word he says through his teeth.

Clint blinks. “Yeah? I mean, yeah, you did. For like a minute. Then you were fine. You’re fine, right?”

“Yes?” Fuck, Bucky, that’s not a question. “Yes.”

“I don’t get why you think I’d tattle on you for that.”

Because for that minute I wasn’t doing my job. Bucky is always painfully aware of the things that he does with the Avengers are things he’s been allowed to do in exchange for forgiveness. The Avengers themselves don’t think of it like that, he doesn’t think, but Bucky knows the wider world does. They’re right to, probably. The things he did, it wasn’t him in control, but he sleeps better at night knowing the things he does here edge him further out of the red, one life at a time.

He’s not going to tell Clint that. though. He shrugs, heading for the cupboard. Late-night cereal sounds kind of disgusting, but at this point it’s a choice between eating that or eating something else raw.

“It was the rat, right?” Clint asks thoughtfully, through a mouthful. Bucky twitches. “Lots of people are scared of them.”

“I’m not ‘lots of people’,” Bucky returns.

“Nah. You’re pretty brave,” Clint replies. Bucky, surprised, accidentally scrapes a spoon across his bowl with a sharp noise. “I don’t like snakes much.”

“Snakes can kill you.”

“So can rats. Wasn’t the plague still around when you were a kid?” Clint says, which is the worst attempt at an age-related joke Bucky has ever heard.

“Not quite,” Bucky replies. “We did have rats, though. Used to hear ‘em in the walls at night, some of the nastier places we lived. In the war, too - anywhere you got food or bodies, you got rats. I never liked ‘em, even when I was little, but once you’ve had one run across your face while you’re bedded down asleep in the forest, you can’t help but hate them.”

Clint’s face is squashed up in disgust. “Yuck.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. His skin is crawling just thinking about it, though it’s not really the sight of them that gets to him.

In Azzano, there’d been dozens of them down in the cells. Then Bucky had been tied to a table for days while he was experimented on, forced to listen to the scratching and scrabbling right at the edge of his hearing between ‘treatments’, waiting for the feeling of sharp little teeth getting at his exposed skin while he couldn’t do anything but let it happen -

“Still,” he says, swallowing. “Not something worth losing it over. That’s why I was surprised.”

Clint pushes himself off the couch, coming to lean on the breakfast bar across from Bucky. “The way I see it, nothing happened.”

“I,” Bucky replies. “You had to -”

“What? Watch your back?” Clint asks. “Hate to break it to you, but we’re partners. That’s kind of my job.”

“I wasn’t watching your back.”

“For like ten seconds,” Clint scoffs. “Besides, that’s teamwork. None of us are at the top of our game one hundred percent of the time. Even for us, it’s only about ninety-two, ninety-three percent. So the rest of the time, you get your teammates to help you out.”

“I need to,” Bucky starts, and then stops himself with a mouthful of cereal, despite that he’s lost his appetite.

“What, be perfect all the time? Hate to break it to you, babe, but not even you can manage that.”

Bucky coughs. “Babe?”

Clint ignores this, though the tops of his ears pink up a little. “It was nothing. Don’t even worry about it. This way, when you have to cover my ass at some point, we’ll be even. Uh, not that you owe me - you know what I mean.”

“You mean you’re not perfect?” Bucky says without thinking. Even as the words emerge from his mouth, the tone surprises him - he’s flirting.

Clint blinks, equally surprised, but Bucky won’t take it back. Fuck it, Clint called him babe, he can probably deal with a bit of flirting.

“Maybe ninety-eight percent of the time,” Clint says after a moment. “That’s why I keep you around. The other two percent.”

Bucky’s relationship with his body and the things he can do is complicated by his history, but it’s still his. He shrugs. “That’s what I’m good for.”

“That, and I trust you,” Clint continues. “So if that’s what you’re worried about, don’t.”

This time it’s Bucky who blinks, dumbstruck. “That’s…” Not what I’m worried about. Except that it is, and he just didn’t realise, and Clint has just cut straight to the heart of the matter with that weird clear-headedness he always has for everyone except himself.

“That seems like a bad idea,” Bucky says eventually.

“I don’t know,” Clint says, with an awkward little shrug of one shoulder. “It’s worked out for me one hundred percent of the time so far.”

Bucky just kind of...stares at him. Clint, whose ears are now definitely pink, doesn’t look away, though he fidgets a bit.

“Thanks,” Bucky says eventually.

“Don’t thank me,” Clint mutters immediately. “It’s the truth.”

Bucky reaches out and stops his hand where it’s restlessly stirring the leftover milk in his bowl. “I meant for in the tunnel.”

Clint looks down at Bucky’s fingers on his hand, then back to Bucky’s face, but he doesn’t move away. “You’re welcome?”

“I trust you, too,” Bucky says, and takes the smile this earns him like it’s sunshine.

#winterhawk #bucky barnes #winter soldier #clint barton #hawkeye #my fic #marvel #aw rats #musophobia #triggers #rats #well just a brief rat appearance

[literarytrashcollection]

The New Recruit (5/?)

AN: This is gonna be a long one!

We were all called into the conference room bright and early. Peter and Wanda both came in their pajamas, Rhodey, Natasha, Steve and Sam all came looking like they’d been up for hours. Everyone else looked like they’d rolled out of bed, put on the first clothes they touched and marched down, including Tony, who’s track suit bottoms and Nirvana shirt looked well-worn and unwashed.

My eyes lingered slightly on Bucky, my lips pulling up at the corners as I realized he’d mixed his combat trousers, a fundraiser t-shirt that definitely wasn’t his, and one combat boot with one hiking boot. His hair was tied back in a sloppy knot that I wanted desperately to run my fingers through and smooth down.

“We’ve been searching for days,” Banner started, calling everyone’s attention to his timid voice. “We’ve done every single test, taken every single culture, done every single scan that we have the power to, and even some that we’re technically not supposed to have to power to do. No where in any of the tests were we able to find DNA matching Loki’s in Y/N.”

“Impossible!” Thor thundered. “There’s no way that she is not the product of his testing.”

“We cannot find him anywhere in her. If her body filtered out Loki’s blood even, wouldn’t her powers have filtered out too?” Tony countered, calm but I could see the lack of sleep in his eyes, the dark bags that once upon a time would’ve never marred his face now the very center of attention as far as I could tell.

Thor pressed his lips together hard. “I suppose you’re not wrong,” he grumbled.

Tony nodded, a snarky look on his face, but words bitten back. “With that being said, we can’t figure out what the deal with Y/N is. She has one hundred percent, USDA prime human DNA. The only thing we noticed in it was… it’s frozen. It doesn’t age. Her blood is cryogenically frozen in Victorian era England even though she looks like a millennial. We found traces of some old diseases in her, so don’t let her bleed on you.” He said, throwing me a wink.

“I’ve been vaccinated,” I snapped, earning a few tired chuckles from the people around me.

“We don’t know why you are the way you are. Brain scans don’t show any different readings than any normal human.” Banner said quietly.

“So, she’s a freak?” Rhodey asked, hands already held up defensively before I could even get mad at him.

Tony hmm-ed for a moment before giving a weak shrug and a nod. “That being said, a HYDRA base has recently surfaced. Massive. Readings off the charts, I don’t know how we didn’t find them sooner.”

“Sounds an awful lot like a set up,” Bucky grumbled. “They wouldn’t be letting readings like that just out and about unless they were trying to lure you in. They wouldn’t be so careless.”

“Or in their desperation, they’re getting sloppy.” Natasha mumbled.

“They would never be so sloppy,” Bucky shook his head. “Even desperate, they wouldn’t leave that much of a trace.”

“We need to investigate it.” Steve said gently.

Bucky shook his head again. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“We can’t just ignore it.” Tony retorted.

Bucky huffed, pushing his fingers through his hair, then scrubbing at the scruff of his beard. “You’re walking into a trap.”

“Well, we’ll go as a team then.” Steve clapped his friend on the shoulder, a small smile on his face. God, what a patriotic idiot. Bucky was right, even I knew it, but it wasn’t my place.

“We’re not sending Tin Man and the Avatar out there.” Tony shook his head. “Too much risk.”

“What do you think is going to happen?” Wanda asked, eyes twinkling a little. I could see red starting to materialize around her hands. Was she about to fight Tony on this? Physically?

“We’re still not sure he’s up for missions and we don’t know what makes her the way she is, and that’s always a risk.” Tony had his arms crossed over his chest, eying Bucky and I. “Too many words in Russian, he’s an assassin robot. We don’t know what will trigger her.”

“Nothing!” I cried. “I’m… I’m not your enemy!”

“We know you believe that but we can’t be sure.” Tony shook his head, eyes imploring me to understand. “You and Barnes will man the compound until we get back. If anyone needs saving while we’re out, you guys can go. But this is priority and you’re not going.”

I looked up at the ceiling, trying to quell the fire bubbling beneath my skin. “You’re walking into a trap and you refuse to take the two people who have dealt with HYDRA for the last seventy fucking years.”

“Dealt with or worked for?” Rhodey retorted, all seriousness in the set of his shoulders and the purse of his lips.

“She was never with HYDRA. We would have heard of her when I released all those files.” Natasha piped up. “But Barnes could still be tainted.”

“I’m fine!” Bucky snarled.

“The overreaction you two are both having is just giving me all the more reason to ground you.” Tony snapped, Steve nodding slightly in agreement. Bucky looked absolutely scandalized by Steve’s betrayal.

I pushed away from the table and stormed out, calling out a fiery “fine” over my shoulder as I went. I knew when I wasn’t wanted and obviously I wasn’t. Anymore fighting would only make them trust me less, I could see as much in their eyes. I could babysit the compound. I could babysit Bucky.

 “Lady Y/N, I apologize for the thoughtlessness of our acquaintances.” Thor said at my elbow as I continued to twirl water from the fountain in the air. “But you must understand their distrust.”

“No one here trusts me.”

“That’s not true.” He sat down on the bench next to me, watching the swirling water. “They just don’t know you yet.”

“I’m used to people not knowing me, not trusting me.” I mumbled. I called some of the water back to me, letting it swirl in a ball in my palm as I let flame engulf my hand. The ball of water soon started boiling.

Thor dipped a finger into the roiling water for a moment. “You miss people. You miss Barnes.”

I laughed but it came out broken and sad. “I miss the war. Everything was simple then. It made sense. It was black and white as far as I could tell. Good guys and bad. None of this mind control, none of this inherit distrust.”

“What happened, between you and Barnes?” He asked me gently, his shoulder brushing mine. “It seems that that incident is what causes so much of your unhappiness here.”

I felt tears streak down my face and the boiling water fell to the ground. “I trusted him too much.” I whimpered. Thor’s arm wound around my body and he pulled me against his side, letting me rest my head on his shoulder as the tears started to streak down my cheeks. “We fell in love. And then… he just threw it back at me. He made me realize that none of it was real.” I sobbed.

Wanda approached slowly, slowly lowering herself to her knees in front of me, water be damned. I hiccupped and tried to explain further, but words stopped working and all I could do was cry.

“I can continue, if you’ll let me?” Wanda said softly. I nodded pitifully and rested my cheek in her hand as she accessed my mind.

California, 1963.

“Bucky, I’m home!” I called, hauling in groceries. I left the food on the counter and started organizing it. I felt arms wind around my middle, the cloying smell of Bucky’s cologne making my heart pound in my chest. His lips brushed the crook of my neck and I couldn’t help but giggle, squirming against him as his long hair tickled me.

“I missed you,” he purred in my ear, turning me around in his arms and pulling me tight against him. I kissed him hard, my arms draping around his neck. His hand snaked up my back, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck as he held me to the kiss. His mouth was so warm and inviting, but I couldn’t help but notice the jerkiness of his movements.

When we pulled back, I let my eyes roam over him, appreciating the sparkle of his blue eyes and the rosiness of his cheeks and the soft scruff of his beard. His lips were pink and kiss swollen already, begging to be kissed and soothed and loved.

It had only taken a few months for us to realize the feelings we’d been harboring for each other. Some small part of us knew that the love we shared was borne of slim pickings, we were both always on the run a little bit, always trying to stay out of public eye. We were the only people we had in the world.

His eyes seemed tight as he held my gaze, and I was met with the slightest whiff of gunpowder on his shirt. “What’d you do today, Buck?” I asked, trying to be nonchalant as I examined him for other markers that he was maybe back to his old ways, maybe HYDRA had taken hold of him again.

He just shrugged, lips pulling up in a smile that eased my discomfort. “I woke up, did some exercise, showered and then you were home. The day kind of flew by.” His hands travelled over my back, my hips, grabbed my thighs as he lifted me up and sat me on the counter, knocking vegetables out of the way as he put me in place.

I nodded slowly, worry aside, my heart ached when we were apart. We were painfully attached, the amount of time spent together often exponentially more than our time spent apart.

I ran my fingers through his long hair, nuzzling his neck and relaxing into his arms, kissing him soundly as I went.

 I awoke late that night, Bucky’s side of the bed empty. The clock next to the bed read 2:16. I could hear voices in the living room, soft and rushed. I tried to mute my own breathing, listen for anything that might’ve told me who was out there, who was talking. It wasn’t like Bucky to wake up in the night and just go watch TV.

I caught a snippet of a phrase, something in Russian, maybe? Was that Bucky’s voice?

I stood slowly, walking as quietly as I could towards the front room. I opened the door to the bedroom and heard the soft ding of the phone being hung up. When I stepped into the room, Bucky was on the couch, arms slung over the back of the cushions, TV on to some army sitcom. I watched him for a moment.

“Buck?” I finally called, more emotion in my voice than I wanted, but I could play it off as sleepiness.

He glanced back, “What’re you doing up, doll?” He asked, standing to come to me. Long fingers curled over my face lovingly. “Was the TV too loud?”

I shook my head. “I heard voices, I thought you were talking to someone.” I mumbled.

He chuckled. “I just hate how they portray the war sometimes. Completely inaccurate. Maybe that gets the best of me sometimes.” I could see a flicker of the soldier who let me escape over a glass of water, a fond memory now.

“Why’re you up?”

He shrugged, head dipping with embarrassment. “Had another nightmare.”

I felt my worry wash away as a wave of nurturing crashed over me. I pulled him into my arms and held him tight, stroking the back of his head. “I’m so sorry, hon,”

He took a deep breath and clung to me. “I’ll be okay, eventually.” I nodded. “Listen, doll, you go back to bed. I’ll be in, just let me get everything turned off.” He said with a sweet smile, eyes tired from his lack of sleep.

I nodded and walked back to the room, leaving the door open as I crawled back under the blankets. September had been chilly, but October brought the downright cold. Bucky’s warmth was salvation all on its own. November found us huddled together under mountains of blankets and sweaters, even in sleep, even with me calling the fire up through my body, letting it warm my skin to unnatural temperatures.

“Yes sir,” came Bucky’s voice, soft, like he was muttering to himself. “Target termination will be after noon, the twenty-second.”

I felt my heart throb as I strained to hear anything else, but there was nothing more than the sound of the light snapping off and his soft footsteps as he entered the room, sliding under the blanket and spooning up to me.

I couldn’t help but feel that Bucky wasn’t in bed though, that the Soldier was back.

 Bucky seemed to act more and more out of sorts as the weeks progressed. I’d find him dazed sometimes next to the phone, his eyes glassy until I called his name. He’d shake his head, give me a cheery smile, and move on. He’d wake up at odd hours, often falling back asleep on the couch, rather than in bed with me. His movements were jerky, robotic.

It scared me.

“Bucky, sweetheart,” I called, “are you home?” I held a package of books I’d collected from the shop for us to read. I had spent the whole day at the salon, changing my hair to maintain my hidden identity.

He made no response as I entered the living room, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the TV. I could see his lips moving, slight twitches that definitely weren’t English, if they were words at all.

The news had been on non-stop no matter where I went, JFK had been assassinated in his convertible in downtown Dallas. Every channel on the radio and TV told the story of the gunshots that had rang out through the plaza.

“Buck?” I knelt down in front of him. He smelt of iron and gun powder again, mixed with sweat. He shivered when I rested my hand on his knee, blinking a few times before he focused on me. “Hey, are you okay?”

His eyes drug over me, scanning me. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m here, sweetie,”

He stood up abruptly, all but knocking me to my ass. He stood up straighter than he usually did, walked with more purpose in his stride as he entered the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. He finished it quickly and hunched over the sink.

“Y/N, we need to leave.” He finally said.

“Why?”

“They found us.” His voice was raw, broken, but there was a darkness to it that I couldn’t place. He seemed to be wound tight, too tight. “They called, last night while you were asleep. They tried to turn the Soldier back on, but I hung up before they could get through it.”

My heart sank. He was lying. I could feel it in my heart. But I could use it. I could let him take me, destroy the facility they were using to control him, save him.

“What did they want from you?” I asked gently, stepping forward and resting my hand on his back. He flinched at my touch but almost immediately relaxed against me.

“I think they wanted me to be the one to kill the president.” He whispered. “They’re the only ones would have the manpower, the sheer knowledge to do it.”

I rubbed his back, trying to work the tension out of his muscles. They might’ve gotten to him, but I would save him. I could protect him. “Why would they need you? You said they have more Winter Soldiers.��

“I am the best.” He snapped and I shrunk away from him. “We need to leave. Get your things.”

 We drove for hours. Crossed back and forth across state lines to confuse them, so he said. Sometimes he drove, sometimes I drove, his attempt at making me feel like I had some say in this, like this really was for our protection.

We arrived at a large, flat building almost a day later. I wasn’t sure where I was, the constant state jumping confusing me. “We’ll be safe here,” he told me as he pulled into a driveway, parked the car next to a dozen black Jeep like vehicles and motorcycles. I started to grab my things, but he stopped me. “We go talk to them first.”

“Lead the way,” I nodded, walking after him. Men in black tactical outfits stood guard next to a heavy metal door, large rifles gripped in their hands. HYDRA emblems adorned their vests and I slowed down. “Bucky,” I whispered and he didn’t respond. “James,” I said a little more urgently.

“Soldat,” I hissed, remembering how they used to address him. He looked over at me with hard eyes and I knew that he was fully under their thumb again. The set of his shoulders, the blankness in his eyes, the clench of his jaw, he was no longer my Bucky.

“Bucky died back in the forties, doll.” He sneered, gripping my arm as he tried to haul me inside. I dug my feet into the ground, soil and stone filtering up through the gravel to hold me in place.

I urged the ground up under the guards, launching them far into the air, only to come back down and splatter against the gray rocks that crunched beneath Bucky’s feet as he tried to drag me. I let the fire erupt across my skin, burning Bucky where he touched me. He tried to grab ahold with his metal hand, but I only got hotter, the place where his metal hand touched my skin glowing red within seconds.

“YOU WILL COME WITH ME!” He snarled, stepping back to pull a handgun from beneath his shirt.

“No,” I shook my head. “I’m going to save you.”

He laughed, hard and menacing. “Save me from what? Them?” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. More guards were starting to filter out of the door. “They are my masters. The man you spent the last several months with, the one you let fuck you into oblivion? He was fake. I don’t love you. I never did. Having to put up with your constant affection and God, that annoying voice. How could anyone love you? You’re better off on the run, with no one to know you or care for you.”

Rifle sights and more hand guns were trained on me. I could see steam coming out of my nostrils as I huffed in big breaths. It wasn’t real, he didn’t really mean any of it, he was just saying it to get them to believe him.

He loved me, he loved me, he loved me.

“Now get inside before I have to take you inside.” He pulled back the slide on his gun, finger curled around the trigger as he aimed it at me.

“No,” I whimpered, letting the fire explode out of me. He stumbled back, as did the guards around me. I burned a huge circle around me, keeping them back so I could barricade myself with stone from deep in the earth. I granted myself a slit to peer out of as I collected water from the air and used it to freeze all of their guns in solid blocks of ice with a big gust of wind.

Bucky dropped his gun and came at me with a knife, only halting when I urged the wind to push him away. He fought hard against it, but I fought harder, eventually shoving him back into the door. I lit the guards on fire, not caring for their lives. Their screams took me back to the war, to the men I’d slaughtered just before Captain America could get there and do the job.

It felt sick and twisted, a horrible, horrible parody of the real thing.

Bucky didn’t relent. He came at me again and this time, I let him. He grabbed me by the throat, metal hand digging into my air way. I could play his game. I grabbed his throat too, less tight as I scrambled for purchase with my feet, and forced all of the air out of his lungs. He gasped, dropping me as he tried and tried to breathe. I withheld his air until he passed out, then I enclosed him in a straight jacket of stone and ice, halfway under the ground.

I blew the door open with fire, sucking all of the air out of the building as alarms screamed at me. Men and women ran from the building, looking for a new air supply, only to be met with a ring of fire so hot the cars parked in the surrounding area had begun to sag. Trees caught, and soon the whole area was a blazing inferno of death and destruction.

I kept Bucky safe, hidden in his cold, stone shelter.

Soon, I lit the building. All of their computers, all of their files, all of their intel and maps, gone, burned down.

By the time the area was just smoke and soot, I’d lost Bucky. He wasn’t in his enclosure. The ice had long melted and the rock was crumbled.

He was gone.

And he never loved me.

Let me know what you think or if you would like to be tagged!

Tags: @jsmith509 @xvoezx @almostpsyche @33rie33 @sarillee @bucktitybarnes @chipilerendi @kiraauu @whothehellisspideypool @queenofallthyfandoms

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #winter solider imagine #the winter soldier #tws #Steve Rogers #captain america #captain rogers #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #Black Widow #Scarlet Witch #wanda maximoff #thor #Thor Odinson #THOR SON OF ODIN #tony stark #clint barton #Iron Man #bruce banner #hulk #The Incredible Hulk #james rhodes #rhodey #war machine #peter parker #spiderman #loki

[indie-struggle]

Emotion

I read a script the other day and it was flat. It hit all those famous plot points you hear about, but it was dull. It had nothing of interest, and I wondered why. The more I thought about it the more I realized that it was void of any authentic feeling, and it only had plot. I unconsciously rejected it based on that - being that I am an emotional animal that has experienced a broad range of emotions - and not just sunshine and farts.

This lead me to a thought: no wonder why I keep returning to those films I love.

One of which is Ordinary People. Since I first watched it some years ago, looking back, I'm unsure of how I came about that... maybe it was Alvin Sargent (the screenwriter), who I admire a lot. Anyhow, I keep coming back to it. I watch it maybe 10-20 times a year along with all this other stuff you wouldn't like. I've read the script, though, who knows what draft it was or what level of production it was in, but it still held the core of the story and its moral.

It really is a fantastic film - and made in 1980 to boot - which puts it in this strange place where I'm not sure how it was made. At that time, the action-adventure blockbuster came storming in with Jaws and Star Wars, and a lot of films flew under the radar due to that. But this wasn't ignored and, ironically, probably couldn't be made today. Who knows, maybe it's because Robert Redford's sexy ass could do whatever he wanted then...

The performances, though in certain areas are lacking (mostly from z-list bit actors), don't keep the story from being solid. There isn't one hole in it. Its - and sorry for spoiling 40 years later - structure isn’t melodramatic. The plot isn't pulling the characters along like movies you're used to, the characters are pulling the plot - extremely important difference. You never know where you're going except for the moment, and yet as we go further down the rabbit hole we become more gripped with this family and don't even realize it. Film wise, this is difficult to make on any level. This is also besides the point I wanted to talk about, which is much greater than just structure and planning, or production values and cinematography... I really need to stop drifting.

(the infamous exploding car)

I want to talk about relatability (is that a word?) of emotion. Because I think that's why I keep coming back to it. First off, this type of film is something you're more inclined to see from outside of the US post '70s. It's a piece of Americana but, almost, almost a slice of life film. Something the French, Italian and Russians specialize in: the inner lives of people and how it effects life around them, ultimately resulting in natural conditions, or an ending that has no place else to go, because that's life. Its only alternative is to have a glimpse of hope. Ordinary People ends with that alternative, because this is fucking America.

(I've written about slice-of-life before: https://indie-struggle.tumblr.com/post/172373896232/so-whats-the-slice-of-life-genre-anyway - but since tumblr blocks this blog from being found outside of tumblr, you probably never saw it.)

This family is nothing like what my family was: they're well off, they're complete, they have things I couldn't fathom or even dream of in terms of benefits in life. This isn't a poor family with gritty living conditions making due and living pay-check to pay-check, which I would immediately identify. So, try to understand the bias here. This family is the polar opposite of all that. So, why in the hell can I relate with it so much? The answer, in the end, is the same damn reason I relate with Sean Nelson's character in Fresh.

Emotion.

The interactions that the family go through are relatable and realistic enough that they transcend any sort of status symbol, race or class. They're universal to those who've had the same emotions, even if it's just coping. You have a father who is simple and confused, but he’s caring and present. You have a son with PTSD, unwelcome in his own skin, his old haunts, at school, at home, and with authority. And then, you have the mother: a torn, stand-offish, determined battle axe, who at every turn is trying to unhear or trying to change the subject to keep herself in balance - the egoshell™. She, strangely enough, is the most unstable of the three. Not only to the characters, but to the audience. I have to be honest, I didn't get this until about my 5th viewing. I was so busy hating her, I didn't realize that she in fact is the one torn inside the most. She doesn't know what to do, and of course loses it all by trying to keep it all. Ultimately, the story is about a father though, trying to hold this family together, as shown through the son.

(moments before the great Uzi on the bus scene)

Now, the biggest complaint I've ever heard about this story is about the psychologist. I understand that. The reason is due to a perception of over compensation. At that time, and even today, it's seen as being detestable to see a shrink, or something to be looked down upon by some people - mostly cowards. So, the film paints it in a bright light, not a savior but a brighter light than most can accept. I, myself, who have been to many psychologists (you can tell), can say that the light isn't that bright. It's more of a case of: "Look, psychology is a story in itself, and we don't have 6 years to spend on the son getting help for this story. So, let's round out the edges." And that in turn creates quicker results and this idea of painting the shrink as a saint. But, his character is true to psychology - take my word for it - that's how they are. Granted, they're not all nice, but when you get a good one, they really hit the mark on what that’s like. And the film isn't about him anyhow, he's just the handle along the steps the son is climbing - something I felt Good Will Hunting borrowed heavily from.

So we have a traumatized, coping family. The reason they're traumatized really isn't important. Though it's shown with brevity, you soon start to realize that this family is being pulled apart by strings that were on a bad foundation beforehand (which, in my opinion, is the reason the story merely shows glimpses of the tragedy throughout - which was a good decision). It has zero sentimentality. There's no guy playing a harmonica in the corner while an old man runs off about the troubles of life. There's no music cue as two buddies realize their futility while sitting on a dock, boozing.

Everything is shown, it's right there, naked, bald, shivering, and with no place to go.

Every character's behavior is perfect for the story. They're realistic, they're believable. All their choices and actions are accurate to how people react to trauma. No two people act the same in reality, and how they do in the film is something you should focus on. Their behavior and actions are what reveals their emotions. The believability of the emotions they're having and the actions they take are what transfers the emotions to me. If you think in terms of action-reaction, it's accurate. And that’s a good thing to note. No doubt an external conflict has created a personal conflict story here, but it didn't need the external conflict to work. It didn’t need to be shown. Why? Because this cloud every character is in is the aftermath of it. It’s a rippling wave through each of them, and that’s what’s interesting, not the tragic event itself.

I'm rambling now... fuck. But what I want you to take away from this, besides that it will make you cry unless you have no goddamn soul, is that you don't need a hook. You don't need explosions. You don't need a good planet vs. bad aliens all the time, or a talking fucking animal... you don't need any of that, it isn't what matters. All you need is emotion out of something interesting and you've got something.

No matter the class, the race, or any social or political beliefs you hold close to your chest, emotion matters the most. And it has to be from some place genuine. It's what editors cut for. Emotions triumph, and this film is a good example of the proper writing and execution of them. Behavior and action are always a side effect of an emotion, whether they're holding on too tight, don't know what it even is, or know what it is and are trying hard not to lose it. Realistic emotions are paramount. They are what's relatable. In stories, it's what you have to tap into, it's what holds you, even more so than spectacle.

(killers photograph their victims prior to dragging them into the murder basement)

Now, if you've never lived and done things to experience a broad range of emotions, how are you going to hold someone's interest who has? You're not, and your story is going to be flat. It doesn't matter if you hit every plot device out there. Unless you're Chris Nolan and can get away with just plot and sentimentality, your script will drown. As Tom DiCillo once said: "If it ain't got heart, it ain't worth shit." I don't know if he coined that, I just remember him saying it. In fact, I'm pretty sure I heard my grandfather say that once thirty years ago, but you get the point. I hope.

If I had the chance to talk to that writer, I’d tell him to go live. Go get rejected by a woman, try to survive on nothing, get beat up, go get dirty and come back. Do something to get life experience. And if you can’t for some reason, at least read about those who have and try to fully understand it. And for the love of John-Boy, be interesting and make me feel something beside a bit of thrill or fright. It's tired. There are many more powerful colors of emotion out there besides pink and gamboge... so find ‘em.

#emotion #screenwriting

[eyes-like-the-night]

I love how the majority of Jekyll and Hyde I love music wise, every other Wildhorn show however? Ehhhhhhh I like a handful of songs from each one

#I think he peaked with J&h #I’m finally watching count of Monte cristo #and I’m not that impressed #doesn’t help that it’s Borchert as Dantes and yeah I’m not impressed #I’m only watching so I can watch boots of the Russian production #personal

[artificialqueens]

at dusk beneath a diabetic moon (trixya) 1/4 - beanierose

AN: i am enormously grateful as always to mattepinkallshades, joanneelizabeth and connyhascontrol for being so supportive and encouraging, and letting me talk their ears off about this iteration of our girls. i feel very blessed to have you. and stutter, i will never be able to thank you enough. for cheering me on, for making me a playlist, for beta reading, for being such a bright spot of joy in my life. thank you, thank you, thank you.

(read on ao3) | (find me at katiehoughton)

a buzzfeed unsolved/x files au. katya hunts cryptids. trixie doesn’t believe in them, but she believes in katya. | 5,145 words

Katya feels at her absolute sexiest and most gay sitting in the Wrangler with her elbow propped against the window frame, smoking a cigarette and waiting for Trixie. She will get off work at the salon in just a few minutes. Katya has her own duffel and Trixie’s pink hard-shell suitcase in the trunk, and a stack of cassettes for Trixie to choose from. It’s the sacrifice she has to make in order to enjoy the aesthetic of the vintage Jeep, that she can’t annoy Trixie with endless playlists of 90s Russian pop on Spotify. They make do, and she doesn’t mind letting Trixie choose what they listen to.

While she’s waiting, Katya replies to a few tweets asking for a hint about her next investigation. People are still sending her memes from the last time, grainy, crazy-looking ones, the ones Trixie tells her are called deep fried. She doesn’t super understand them, not always, but she listens when Trixie tells her how important it is to engage. How that will help to grow her audience.

Trixie is kind of bossy, and Katya likes it a lot. She’s her best friend, since college, and when Trixie graduated and Katya was two years out of school and still just working in the costume store, she didn’t hesitate to follow Trixie out west. All of this was Katya’s idea, but they wouldn’t be where they are without Trixie pushing, Trixie organising, Trixie taking moody, verdant photographs of the back of Katya’s head for Instagram.

Katya keeps her replies as cryptic as she possibly can, and when people start tweeting at Trixie as well to ask her for details, she locks her phone again and puts it away. She drums her fingers against the outside of the car and watches people walking by, some of them looking at her. A man walking a dog goes right past the Jeep, only a couple inches away from her, and Katya almost topples headfirst out of the rolled down window to get to scratch the puppy’s snout. After he’s gone, Katya lifts her hand to her nose and breathes in the dog-smell of her fingers, lives there in that secret shame for a little while.

All of the girls come out of the salon at the same time at the end of each day, and Katya likes so much to watch them. Trixie is a head taller than everybody else and there are cute little wisps of hair escaping her ponytail to frame her round, lovely face. She’s laughing with one of her colleagues, her mouth open so wide that Katya can see all of her back teeth even from the other side of the street. When Trixie turns around and sees the car she gives Katya a small wave and comes across the street with a little bounce in her step, her ponytail swishing behind her. Katya picks up the Del Taco bag from the seat so that Trixie can sit down, and hands it to her once she has her seatbelt fastened.

“Oh, my god. I literally love you. Thank you. Hi.” Trixie is always starving when she gets off work and she begins rummaging through the bag right away.

Katya starts the engine and the car rumbles to life beneath them. “Hello, hi, hello, how are you, how was your day?”

“It was just okay. That WASP woman came in again, you remember from last month?” Katya hums a small noise of confirmation. “She won’t let anybody else wash her hair. I had to do it, even though I told her that I’m a senior fuckin’ stylist.” Trixie stuffs a handful of fries in her mouth and chews politely, swallows them down before she finishes talking. “I’m supposed to supervise and delegate.”

“Uh-huh,” Katya says. “Trixie, honey, you gotta stop trying to convince people that you’re a top.”

Trixie shrieks and strains against her seatbelt like she wants to lunge across the centre console and finally throttle Katya. Her mascara is coming off in little flakes underneath her eyes, and the pink tip of her nose is showing through her foundation. She’s tired, Katya knows, and she’d love to go home and sink into a warm bath, her skin made slippery and soft by all of the special products she puts into the water. Instead she’s here, in Katya’s beat-up old car, already rummaging through the shoebox of cassettes in the passenger footwell.

She chooses Kate Bush, and she has another couple of tapes picked out for when this one finishes that she’s keeping tucked underneath her thigh like she thinks Katya might take them from her. Trixie fishes around in the glove compartment for a pencil and sticks it through the sprocket to wind the tape back to the start, the tip of her tongue just poking out because she’s concentrating so hard.

After she’s done and the staticky voices of Dan Brandenstein and NASA fill the car, Trixie offers Katya one of her crinkle cut fries. Katya munches on it cheerfully while she checks her mirrors and pulls out of their parking spot. Trixie is eating her veggie burrito with one hand and taking the scrunchie out of her hair with the other.

Katya hasn’t yet grown tired of Trixie’s whole post-work routine. After she’s done eating, Trixie wriggles out of her black blouse and slacks in the passenger seat. She had left a change of clothes for herself neatly folded on top of her suitcase, and Katya had let herself in to Trixie’s apartment with her spare key earlier today to collect everything. She saw a pepto-bismol Post-it tacked to the door of the refrigerator to remind Trixie’s roommate, Kim, that she needs to give the chinchilla food and fresh water every day that Trixie is away. Katya likes Trixie’s writing, how she dots the i in Kim’s name with a little heart. Her own is scrawling and messy as chicken scratch.

It isn’t a graceful production for Trixie to get dressed again, and Katya focuses very hard on the road ahead so Trixie doesn’t get all embarrassed and grumpy. She doesn’t put her boots on after she’s dressed, instead propping her feet up on the dash in their wool socks. She pushes her toes against the glass of the windshield until they crack and she moans loudly. Katya is so grateful that Trixie comes with her at all for these trips, and especially after ten hours on her feet.

After some time spent massaging her arches and groaning, Trixie takes her iPad out of her backpack and starts scrolling around in their shared Google document. They’ve been researching and collecting information. Katya has been reading everything she can get her hands on and making notes for Trixie, highlighting the parts that she thinks are especially interesting.

“You know,” Trixie says, and taps two fingers against her chin. “This might be the first time that I kinda believe in the thing that we’re looking for.”

Katya turns her head for just a moment to glance at Trixie. The sun is setting on Katya’s left, and she likes the idea of Trixie looking back at her and seeing the sky peach-pink and luminous behind her. “You do?”

“Yeah! Bigfoot is meat and bone, Katya.”

She sounds so emphatic that Katya laughs out loud, a small sharp thing that reverberates around the inside of the car for long enough that she almost winds down the window again to let it back out. That would be less than wise; it’s raining. And it’s begun to get dark. Katya doesn’t like driving very much, likes it even less in these conditions. When it’s sunny and dry and warm, she will hold the wheel down at six in just one hand and rest the other on the window frame or sometimes along the back of Trixie’s seat. Tonight she has a firm grip with both hands and she’s focusing so hard on the road she keeps catching herself leaning forward.

“I know this,” Katya says. “I didn’t think that you did. I was super ready to have to persuade you with all my extensive and incredibly scientific and — Trixie, and — one hundred percent factual research.”

Trixie has elongated in the seat as they’ve been driving. She’s reclined it way back and she still has her feet propped up on the dash. The blood is definitely not reaching them correctly, and when she gets out of the car later she’s going to whine and hop around like a little sparrow until her circulation comes back. She has the iPad resting against the slope of her thighs and she scrolls back up to the top of the document again.

“Like how the earliest recorded sightings are from the fifteenth century? And how lots of cultures have different names for the same idea? Hmm? Those facts?”

“Those are facts!” Katya starts, and then sees Trixie right at the edge of her vision, barely suppressing a smirk. Her cheeks have hollowed with the effort and her eyes are wide. “Wow, I hate you so much.”

Trixie reads a little more of their research out loud, like Katya wasn’t the one who compiled all of it. Like she hasn’t already drafted her tweets for later with the most important details. She hardly minds; she likes the way Trixie’s voice sounds. She’s turned the volume down on the cassette player a bit, so that she can tell Katya about how there have been sightings in almost every state, how that lends credence to the idea that Bigfoot is a species, rather than a singular creature.

“Well yeah, honey. You look in the mirror lately?”

Trixie screams and drums her heels against the dashboard, squirming around in her seat. Katya’s laughing too, and she relaxes her grip on the steering wheel a bit. Just having Trixie next to her in the car always makes her feel safer, which doesn’t make any sense at all because she has on more than one occasion lunged across the centre console and put her hands around Katya’s throat while they’ve been driving.

“That’s so mean. You’re so mean. I can’t believe I’m friends with you.” She’s taken her sunglasses off now that it’s gotten darker, and she folds the legs in neatly and puts them away in their pink case, stows it in the glove compartment.

Katya grins. “Well, I am a cryptid hunter. I’m one of the few people that believe you exist. So you don’t really have another option.”

“Okay, I got it, thanks so much,” Trixie says.

She gets into a bit of a snit and draws her legs up onto her seat, folds them beneath herself instead. There’s only twenty more minutes or so until they get to where they’re going, so Katya leaves her to work through it by herself in furious silence. It’s unkind to provoke her after a long work day. Katya should have known better; she does know better.

“Hey,” she says, after a handful of minutes in which she has to be very careful not to turn her head towards Trixie. “You’re very pretty.”

“I know.” It comes out sharp, but then her face softens into a smile. She uncrosses her arms and stretches them up above her head, as high as the roof of the Wrangler will let her.

They’re driving along the main street through the town now. Even in the dark and the rain it’s pretty cute, the street lined with trees and low, single-storey buildings. Behind them, the mountains sweep upward so steeply that it makes Katya dizzy when she leans forward towards the windshield to try and see the top.

“This place is kinda charming. If you’re into like, mildew and cheap beer,” Trixie says.

Katya swings a right into the parking lot of the motel and cuts the engine. “You know those are my two main interests. You think we’ll have time to go apartment hunting while we’re here?”

“Since when do you want to live like a person?” Trixie lifts both eyebrows. She always looks so pleased with herself whenever she gets a chance to tease Katya, and her mouth is turned up at the corners so the dimple in her left cheek is more pronounced. “We’ll get you a nice tarp and an extra pair of wool socks.”

“Oh wow, two pairs? A life of true decadence.”

Trixie doesn’t respond; she’s begun rummaging in her footwell, collecting all of her belongings. It usually takes less than five minutes of her being in Katya’s car before her stuff is scattered everywhere, but she is always courteous, always careful to take everything with her when she gets out. While she’s occupied, Katya jumps down without using the step and rounds the front of the Jeep to open Trixie’s door for her and offer her a hand. She doesn’t need it — she’s taller than Katya is — but she never refuses.

“We can’t stay someplace nice?” Trixie says, looking over the top of Katya’s head. The red neon Vacancy sign is making her face look warm and pink and sweet. “Just one time?”

“You wanna pay?” Katya says back.

Trixie squawks in distaste and Katya leaves her there, leaning against the side of the Wrangler and shifting her weight in agitation while the blood comes back into her feet. She gets their luggage out of the trunk and takes everything inside, Trixie trailing a few paces behind with just her little pink backpack.

Katya is the kind of person who says thank you to Siri whenever she asks a question, and Trixie is the kind of person who giggles at her every time for doing it. Because of this, Katya is always the one to speak with the person at the front desk and smile politely and collect their room keys, while Trixie busies herself a few feet away. She thumbs through the racks of leaflets advertising things to do in the surrounding area. Almost all of it is Bigfoot-adjacent, and Trixie certainly won’t find anything interesting enough to make her actually pick one out.

The moment they get into their room, Trixie unzips her suitcase and heads straight for the bathroom with a thing of Clorox wipes. She does this every time, and Katya can hear her singing cheerfully to herself while she scrubs the sink or whatever, so she leaves her to it. It gives her a minute to stretch out after the drive. Katya sits down right on the floor, even though it will make Trixie click her tongue in disgust, and moves easily through a few simple poses.

It feels good; she likes the way that it kind of burns when she pushes her hip flexors as far as she can. Her hair is spilling down all over her face and getting into her eyes, and she has a red scrunchie around her wrist but she doesn’t want to shift out of downward-facing dog to tie it up. After a couple minutes her legs start tingling and she brings them down and sits up, gathers as much of her hair up as she can. It only skims the top of her shoulders and it always wants to fall down and stick in sweaty tendrils to her cheeks and neck.

“Get off the floor,” Trixie says when she comes out of the bathroom. “You’re gonna get hepatitis.”

Katya lifts her head from her plow pose to look at Trixie. “I think that would be very sexy of me. Will you nurse me, Trixie? Will you tenderly pat my forehead with a cool facecloth?”

“I’ll smother you with a pillow.”

Sweat is beginning to prickle between Katya’s shoulder blades and make her back feel all itchy and unpleasant. She flops down flat onto the floor and Trixie steps carefully over her and sits herself primly on the end of one of the twin beds. She has a way of always, immediately, making the places they stay feel more like home. It’s not like she brings a bunch of scented candles, although Katya doesn’t doubt that she would if she thought she could get away with it. Just her presence in a space is enough to make it feel warmer and cosier and more pink.

Everything in Trixie’s suitcase is organised carefully into packing cubes, and when Katya opens her duffel and things start falling out onto the ground Trixie sighs loudly. Katya rummages around until she finds her dopp kit and she holds it aloft, victorious.

“I’m gonna shower. I am feeling extremely gross from the drive.”

“You’re extremely gross from who you are as a person.” Trixie has taken her boots off and wriggled up the bed so that she’s leaning against the headboard now. Her hair is a bit matted at the back from their long drive, and her makeup is smudged and wearing away. “I’m gonna call and check in with Orville.”

Katya’s knees both crack loudly when she straightens up and she winces. “Cool. Say hello to our son from me.”

“He’s not your son, Cruella,” Trixie fires back at her before Katya closes the bathroom door.

The spray from the showerhead is lacklustre, and Trixie is definitely going to be unhappy about that when she washes her hair tomorrow. It makes Katya laugh just thinking about it and some of the water gets into her mouth.

Freshly dressed, she comes out of the bathroom to see Trixie laying on her stomach on her bed, grinning at the screen of her phone. She’s on FaceTime, and Kim has propped her own phone up against the chinchilla’s cage so that Trixie can watch Orville eat. Katya likes that Trixie doesn’t stop her soft voice or her goofy smile when she comes into the room. She leans down over Trixie to put her face in the frame as well. When Trixie first announced one day that she was going to get a chinchilla and dragged Katya to the pet store to help carry everything, she hadn’t really understood the appeal. She gets it now. Orville sits on his hind legs and holds a grass pellet in his front paws to nibble at delicately, and Katya and Trixie watch him eat.

Katya had been with Trixie the day she got Orville from the rescue center. She’d been the one to drive back to Trixie’s apartment, and she’s pretty sure that was the closest she’ll ever come in her life to the feeling of driving home from the hospital with a newborn in the car seat. Trixie had cradled the carrier in both arms and sung softly to the chinchilla, so that he could get used to her voice. Now he’s inquisitive and goofy, and he likes to ride around on Katya’s shoulder whenever she’s over at Trixie’s place.

After a little while, Kim comes back into frame and tells them she has to hang up now but that she’ll check in later, before she goes to bed. “You’re a really good dad,” Katya says, and then darts rapidly off the bed and out of range so that Trixie can’t smack her.

She sits up and gathers all of her hair up off her neck in both hands, rolls her head on her shoulders. “You’re his dad. I’m a MILF. Can we get snacks?”

“Really?” Katya sits at the end of her own bed to start putting her Docs back on. “Watching him eat those nasty-ass dried-up pellets made you hungry, Trix?”

“No, being in a confined space with you for multiple hours made me hungry. Come on, there’s a gas station down the street.”

Katya trots obediently along behind Trixie on their way to the gas station. She looks like a confection, like something made of fondant or marzipan. She’s totally out of place in a town like this. It’s still raining, and it’s hovering right around forty degrees. Trixie’s wearing a white down jacket and she’s got her hands shoved inside the pockets and her chin tucked into the neck of the coat. When she put it on Katya told her she looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and she stuck her tongue out.

“Trixie, you know, you really shouldn’t dress like a snack when we’re out looking for enormous carnivorous beasts.” Katya quickens her pace to catch up to Trixie and hooks her arm through hers.

Trixie scoffs. “He’s not carnivorous, is he? Has there been one single confirmed report of a Bigfoot attacking a person? Ever?”

“Well no, but-”

“Mhmm.” Trixie stops them walking in front of the door to the gas station and Katya lets go of her arm so she can open it and hold it for Trixie.

Inside, several people turn to look at them. Trixie reaches blindly behind herself and circles her wrist until Katya takes her hand and allows herself to be led over to the snack aisle. She likes how every decision Trixie makes is properly considered, how she bends at the waist to assess their options before she picks anything out. She passes things to Katya one at a time for her to hold, until she’s satisfied. She started with the biggest thing of Skittles the store carries, which Katya is cradling against her stomach while she waits. Katya follows Trixie over to the registers and dumps everything out on the counter; a Red Bull can starts rolling and Trixie catches it as it drops off the edge and sets it down securely again.

“You girls in town for the squatch?” the older man at the register asks as he starts ringing them up. His gaze lingers on Trixie for a little while. She unzipped her jacket because it’s warm in the store, and underneath she’s wearing a pink roll neck sweater. She doesn’t much look like a typical amateur cryptozoologist.

It makes her let out a small disgruntled noise and she wanders away a bit. Katya bounces on her toes a couple times and clasps her hands together. “We sure are! You got any insider information?”

“Just don’t getcha selves lost in the forest,” he sighs. “Bring plenty’a supplies, water, nineteen forty-seven, and cell phones don’t work so you need’a use short-wave radio.”

Katya blinks at him a couple times and then says Oh! and rummages in the back pocket of her pants for her wallet. It was a gift from Trixie a few years back and the leather has been made soft and buttery with use. Inside, there’s a Polaroid of the two of them. They’re at the beach in it, Trixie in a vintage one piece and an enormous straw sunhat. Katya’s wearing a bikini with a shark print and she’s tucked beneath the brim of Trixie’s hat, leaning in to kiss her cheek. It sends a little sting of pleasure through her each time she sees it; Trixie had gifted the wallet to her with the photograph already inside.

“Here you go,” she says cheerfully, and hands the guy her card to swipe. “We’ve got radios and rations, don’t worry. We’ve put some thought into this. I guess you guys must have folks getting themselves stuck and needing rescued all the time, huh?”

The guy makes a gruff noise and passes her the receipt to sign. She can feel Trixie’s eyes on her, feel how she’s itching to get out of here. Trixie uses all of her reserves of small talk for her job and generally doesn’t enjoy engaging with people outside of work. Katya is honoured that Trixie feels comfortable enough with her to be grouchy and quiet, that it doesn’t drain her energy when they spend time together.

“You ever see any signs yourself?” Katya asks the clerk as he’s packing up their stuff. He passes the paper bag over to her and she holds it against her chest in both arms and waits for an answer.

The guy gestures behind himself to a few blurry photographs tacked up on a corkboard with push pins in different colours. “You hear about that hoax that was uncovered over in Bluff Creek?” He says it like that wasn’t almost twenty years ago, and Katya nods enthusiastically.

“I did!” She listens as he tells her to check out the museum in town, and that they should be careful not to find themselves in the forest after dark. He’s growing more and more animated as Katya lets him ramble, and she has to shift the weight of the grocery bag to her other arm.

Trixie has circumnavigated the store while she’s waited for Katya to get done talking to the guy, and she comes back to touch her fingers to Katya’s bent elbow and say her name very quietly and urgently. When they first met, Katya repeated Trixie’s name back to her and cracked it in half over her knee like a glow stick, and Trixie added an extra syllable to hers. Kah-tee-yuh. She likes the way that it sounds, especially when Trixie is getting annoyed or whiny.

“Okay, just a minute,” she says back calmly, as if she were trying to placate a child.

Katya thanks the guy at the register again and gestures with her head for Trixie to lead the way out of the store. She’s getting kind of stompy, so Katya trails a couple of steps behind on the way back to the motel. Trixie’s hands are balled into fists at her sides, but she’ll be okay once she eats a few Oreos and changes into her pajamas.

In their room, Katya unpacks the grocery bag and lays everything out on the dresser while Trixie changes in the bathroom. She likes pottering around and listening to the water running and the quiet hum of Trixie’s toothbrush, likes how Trixie’s face is bright and gleaming with lotion when she comes out.

“Par-tay,” Katya says, and shakes the bag of Skittles in Trixie’s direction.

She wrinkles her nose and collects a couple things to take with her when she gets beneath the sheets. Hers is the bed furthest away from the door, like always, and she props herself up against the headboard. Great clouds of freshly brushed-out curls cascade over her shoulders. Her hair is very soft; Katya knows this from the handful of times Trixie has gotten frustrated trying to do her own french braids and had Katya do them for her instead. Katya thinks she looks sort of like an earthworm, pink and shiny and moist, but knows better than to ever say that out loud.

“Hey, you know, that’s very Bigfoot of you,” she says as she comes over to sit on her own bed across from Trixie’s.

Trixie has arranged the various packages of junk food neatly across the sheets, in order of size from smallest to largest. She does the same thing with gifts, Katya remembers from her birthdays and that one Christmas neither of them could afford to go home and they spent the day on Trixie’s couch watching movies and eating until they were too bloated and uncomfortable to move.

“What is?”

“Arranging stuff all orderly like that.” Katya isn’t beneath the sheets yet, she’ll go out for a last cigarette, but she does reach down to unlace her boots. “You want me to go find you some rocks to stack?”

“I want you to never talk to me again,” Trixie says sweetly, and she rips open her Oreos and gets right to work twisting the cookies in opposite directions to separate the sandwich.

It doesn’t seem like the best idea to eat a whole bunch of sugar right before bed. Katya wants them to be up early to make the most of the daylight and she knows Trixie’s going to grumble, even though she’ll get at least an extra hour of sleep. Katya likes getting to wake Trixie with the wet ends of her hair dripping and her body pleasantly sore from a run, likes watching her come all grumpy and confused into the day. She is not about to tell Trixie to take it easy with the snacks, especially when she looks so cute munching on her cookies.

“I’m gonna go smoke,” Katya says, and Trixie makes a noncommittal noise.

She gathers her lighter and the pack of Camels from the pocket of her jacket and heads out the door of their room. They have a little patio area in the front with two Adirondack chairs and a small table and she settles herself down to light a cigarette. If she turns her head she can look in their window through the gap in the voile panels and see Trixie, scrolling through her phone and still eating.

They’re not far enough away from civilisation that she can see all of the stars, but there are way more than in the city. It’s so beautiful and so still, the rain coming down much lighter now. Katya likes the noises of the frogs very much. She would like to stay out here in her chair and listen to them until time stands still, and then maybe a little longer after that.

Her hair got damp again when they were walking back to the motel and she takes it down from the scrunchie so it can dry off a bit. It’s not even close enough to being warm enough for her to sit out like this, and she regrets not wearing a jacket. For a little while Katya inspects her own arm, fascinated by the way all of the blonde hairs are standing on end and how her skin feels like it’s on too tight.

After a while the light goes out in the room behind her. Katya isn’t usually the last one awake, but she really likes the idea of tiptoeing around and doing her best not to wake Trixie, maybe sneaking glances over at her. She’s on her second cigarette, and she’s trying so so hard, but she’s barely smoked at all today and she’s so content in the moment that she doesn’t want to go inside just yet. They’re so lucky to do this. She is so lucky, to have a best friend who will come along with her on these trips and take pictures and listen to her rambling and be the person she gets to turn to and say did you see that?

Their room faces away from the main street and she can almost make out the shape of the mountains. They seem much closer than she knows they really are, a huge hulking mass of deeper, more solid darkness. A little shiver goes through her thinking about how Bigfoot could be up there right now, maybe peering down, watching the lit end of her cigarette weave around in the dark like a firefly.

#rpdr fanfiction #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #monster of the week au pretty much #a love letter to the x files #adbadm #beanierose #lesbian au

[todragonsart]

Cinnamon Roll

Merry Christmas to the one and only @magehir! I hope you like my imagination on Blitz/Rook, because I enjoyed the production phase so much! <3 This is pure sugar, so call your dentist before! 

Since Rook wanted his first Christmas together with Blitz to be perfect, he planned everything step by step. From the food he would cook for this lover, to the candles he would lit in the bedroom, he worked out every detail. He wanted everything to be as perfect as possible, like the maximalist he was, and he worked on the plans for two whole weeks.

First he was so puzzled about the activity they should do. He thought about going to the cinema or theatre, looked up pretty hotels to visit, romantic trips to make, restaurants with cheesy advertisements for couples. He even considered to go horseback riding, but unfortunately he happened to be deadly allergic to making a fool out of himself, so he changed his mind. In the end, he decided to stay home, and make the masterplan a little different:

As he calculated, Blitz would arrive at 7 o’clock, and he would bring a bouquet of flowers - maybe roses - and a bottle of red wine. Nothing too fancy or expensive, but not too cheap either, just something good. Blitz loves wine, Rook was sure he could count on him with this.

Blitz would admire the clean flat, and the perfect decoration with Rook’s Christma tree. This year, his tree was gold-red, and he had some pretty present for the love of his life, beside himself.

On their way to the kitchen, Blitz would notice the mistletoe hung up on the doorway, and they would stop for a short, but perfect kiss. Well… hopefully not short… Maybe he would have the chance for a tiny booty grab?

Blitz would open the wine still a little flushed, while Rook prepared the perfect dinner; roasted beef ribs with strawberry sauce, and mashed potato. He took the receipt from a movie, and during the test cooking it turned out to be perfect.

He would light three candles, put on some not too Christmasy but still holidayish music, then they would chat during dinner. Blitz would take his hand, they would gaze into each other’s eyes, then the German would give a small kiss into his palm, because he is a real gentleman. The blond prince on a white horse.

After dinner, they would cuddle up on the couch, watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and from time to time, they would forget the movie and just kiss, touch, grope, feel each other. That would be a good foreplay for the upcoming events.

They would take a bubble bath together after the movie, he would even wash Blitz’s perfectly muscled back and shoulders while the man’s strong hands would travel on his silky-smooth thighs. He would moan softly and…

Rook shook his head. Not in the bathtub, it was way too small for their love!

He would moan softly and Blitz would blush a little, then suggest to move towards the bed.

Yeah, that’s better!

Blitz would cover him with his strong arms and a fluffy towel, and they would get lost in each other’s eyes for a moment. Rook would put his hands around his waist, as they start to kiss slowly. Blitz would lift Rook up and take him next to the fireplace where they would make sweet, sweet love...

Rook sighed dreamily. He really wanted to have a fireplace to make this possible, but he was living in a small flat. Bedroom it was then. Later he would fall asleep next to Blitz and the morning after, he would wake up buried under layers of sheets and the strong arms of his lover. Yeah. Perfect! He couldn’t wish for a better Christmas Date.

He looked into his notebook, where he wrote down everything what was needed to make the plan work, then looked around himself. Fortunately nobody cared about him at the moment.

He was sitting in the canteen at Hereford, waiting for his next meeting session with the others. He had a week to make the dream-date possible, and he was filled with determination to do it perfectly.

He looked up, and saw Bandit and Blitz arriving to the canteen, so he shut the notebook and smiled at both. Bandit looked at him with a grimace. He caught them the other day in his bed, because Blitz’s…

Well, okay, they fucked up the rooms, and bed, but they were riled up, okay? Like Bandit never made out in other people’s bed with Montagne… Well… Montagne wouldn’t let that happen, but who cared, they are only human!

Rook put his elbow on the notebook to cover it from the approaching Blitz, giving the man a brilliant smile. “Hello handsome! How was your morning?”

Blitz sat next to him, hugging him sideways, giving a small peck on the mouth. “Nothing, really. I was after your Christmas present, and I thought that maybe we can cook something together for dinner that day! What do you think?”

Rook smiled. “Don’t worry, I got that already! Blitz gave him a kiss on the cheeks. “Alright, Julien, but if you need anything, just say it, okay?”

Rook nooded. “Of course, I know! I-I just want to make this… you know, perfect. This is a big step, our first Christmas together, as a couple, and… I want to make a surprise for you, okay?”

“Okay, honey” Blitz smiled at him with a disgustingly loving expression.

Across from the table, Bandit made noises similar to vomiting, to ruin their mood, but they just didn’t care. They were happily lost in each other, and nobody could ruin it. Not even a very grumpy German, who didn’t have his lover in his pocket until Christmas, because said French was visiting his family before the holidays.

As the Big Day was getting closer, Rook was getting more and more nervous and excited. He cleaned up his flat, bought everything from food to bedroom equipment, even decorated his tree four times in a row to make it as beautiful as possible. He was so annoyed at himself at the end, instead of cleaning again and again, Rook started to stay at base for longer sessions of training.

Two days before Christmas, he even agreed to help the Russians with their training. It took place in the frozen, snow covered forest not far from the base. Kapkan asked Rook to hide 10 targets in the woods for them to find, so he spent two and a half hour outside in the brutal winter of December.

He shivered non-stop as he was on his way home. His boots were soaked with icy water, his knees trembled with each step and his hands and lips looked blue. As he got home, he jumped in a big tub of hot water, to relax a bit, and that night he didn’t have problems sleeping.

He was working on the 24th of December too, in the evening he even prepared the Christmas dishes. He somehow felt weaker that day, but he didn’t care about that really. His mind was full of the Dream Christmas Date, and all the possibilities for the perfect finish. He found himself fantasizing about that damn fireplace scene again.

Short before midnight he counted everything; the tidy rooms with beautiful decoration, the marinating sheep, the presents under the tree, his clothes for the next day, the movie on the coffee table and the damn fluffy towels.

He was satisfied with himself when he got to bed. Tomorrow would be the biggest day in his life, and he was so ready for it he couldn’t even tell. He fell asleep in an instant, covered in thick sheets and blankets.

He dreamt that night. He was with Blitz, of course, they were visiting his parents. Blitz was nervous, Rook was happy, his parents seemed to be really proud of his good-looking boyfriend, and they welcomed the German into the family in an instant. He introduced Blitz to his siblings too, they were so happy for him. In his dream, the German held onto his hand the whole day, as he was a little embarrassed.

Every time he looked at Blitz, he felt his heart skip a beat. Every exchanged smile, touch, glance made him so happy, he wanted to scream it out loud to let the whole world know about his happiness.

The next morning, he woke up with a decent headache, sore throat and feeling dizzy. As he opened his heavy eyes, he knew that something was wrong; he felt like shit. When he coughed, his voice was so bad, he sounded like an old, angry grandpa.

Somehow he fought his way into the bathroom, looked at himself in the mirror and instantly he wanted to cry. His face was white as a wall, hands trembled as he held onto the faucet with weak fingers, he had dark circles under his eyes too, and he felt really bad.

He got back to his bed and collapsed on it. He considered crying, but he knew that he had a big event coming right up. He needed to make the food, and get himself together for Blitz! He was the biggest part of the Goddamn present, he didn’t have time for breaking!

Filled with determination, he got up, made himself a tea and looked up at the clock. He had almost eight hours till Blitz’s arrival, so he had plenty of time to get healthy again!

Well, Blitz didn’t get there at 7 o’clock, but was late thirty minutes, and Rook started to panic. He somehow managed to compose himself a little. He took a long, hot bath, drank tea pumped with vitamins, took medicine for his aching head, and he looked like a functional human being at the end.

But Blitz was nowhere and he started to get scared. What if his lover wouldn’t come? Why wouldn’t he call him? Rook walked to the kitchen and stress tested the strawberry sauce for the ribs again, and sighed. No. Blitz would be here, he was just a little bit late.

As he finished this thought there was a small knock on the door.

Rook jumped to his feet and adjusted his clothes. He looked like a million dollars with those tight jeans he bought for this evening. He was sure he could seduce Blitz into the bedroom with these.

At the door stood his lover, smiling bright like the sun. In his hand Rook saw a bottle of wine - he felt proud - and a wrapped box with a pretty bow. He didn’t see roses, but who cared? Blitz was here, finally! “Sorry, I’m late, Bandit wanted me to wait for Gilles with him, because it’s Christmas and he needed some support!” Blitz gave him a kiss on the cheeks.

Rook smiled at him. “That’s alright, Elias, the food needed a little more oven time anyway! Let me get your coat!”

Blitz placed the box and the wine on a shelf and took off, his boots then his coat, handing it to Rook. “I saw a bird with a knife in its beak on my way here! I am sure it was in some sort of a mafia or something!”

“A what…?”

“A black bird, with a knife! I instantly bought it a croissant, I didn’t want it to rob me on my way here!” Blitz grinned at him. Rook shook his head smiling. “You don’t believe me, but I took a pic about it!” with that, Blitz flashed him his mobile phone with a picture of a bird, sitting satisfied next to a croissant and a butterknife.

Rook blinked a few times then burst out laughing. “Oh, God… This is so dumb! I think this might be a magpie.”

Blitz grinned at him then looked around. “You cleaned up with a magnifying glass? This flat is so tidy I could eat on the ground!”

Rook flashed him a brilliant smile. “Now come, I hope you are hungry!”

“Well, I didn’t have lunch, because you told me you would cook, and Doc said you are a brilliant chef, so…” Blitz gave him a quick hug, and as they were walking towards the kitchen, Rook looked up at the mistletoe, clearing his throat.

With a questioning expression Blitz followed his gaze and started to smile. “You smooth little shit! Come here!” He put his hands around Rook’s waist and leaned in, to place a kiss on his lips. Rook slowly leaned against him, but instead of deepening the kiss, he hid his face into Bliz’s shoulder and inhaled his scent. It felt really good to be in the German’s presence.

Blitz placed a hand on his neck and started to massage it slowly. “Are you okay, Julien? You seem a little tired!”

Rook nodded against his neck. “I missed you so much, that’s it,” at that, Blitz started to smile. “Open that wine, I will get the food, okay?”

Nodding, Blitz unfolded himself from Rook and as he opened the bottle of wine, he poured some into both of their glasses. He looked up at Rook, who was busy picking the perfect ribs. He looked like an angel to Blitz; the French was handsome, sweet, sometimes stubborn or a little bit sassy, but in a good way. Rook was a good man with loving heart and their love life was the best he had ever experienced.

Blitz was so in love, at first he didn’t even notice how Rook’s hand trembled when he took the big plate of food. He stepped closer to the table, placed the ribs in the middle and as he turned to get a match for the candles he suddenly felt dizzy. He needed to hold onto the counter for support. Damn headache was back again.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to do this, for the Dream Christmas Date, he needed to compose himself and be healthy for Blitz! He turned around again, and lit the candles on the table.

“Did you cook all of this?” asked Blitz. “It looks delicious, Julien!”

Rook nodded with a faint smile on his face. “Of course! The strawberry sauce was the real challenge, but I think it is perfect, and I really hope that you will enjoy it!”

“You are a little bit pale, are you sure you are okay?”

“Of course. You worry too much, honey, but it’s endearing.” Rook laughed a little and served the food for both of them. As he sat down, they started to eat, chatting about their days, families, work and stuff.

“Have you heard anything about Maxim and Timur?” Blitz smiled at him.

“No, why? Has something happened to them?”

“Yeah! They were training the other evening in the forest, you know when the temperature dropped under -5 C° and there was that icy wind! Who knew that even the Russians can get sick in cold?” laughing, Blitz took another bite of his meat.

Rook nodded, but his smile wasn’t that honest anymore. So they were sick too, great!

“Alexandr told me that you were helping them, how come you didn’t get sick?”

Rook smiled. “I was feeling a bit down  yesterday, but now I feel better than ever, really! My feelings for you healed me!”

Blitz started to laugh. “You are so cheesy sometimes, I want to kill you and hug you at the same time!”

Rook winked at him grinning. Since he finished his meal, he wanted to get the dessert, so he stood up, but dizziness hit him again, and everything went white for a second as he started to fall. He heard a faint “Julien!”, then darkness and cold took him.

When he got to himself, he didn’t feel cold anymore. He was lying on the couch, under a thick blanket. In his panic, he sat up, but almost fell back because of his throbbing headache. He looked up at the clock. It was half past eleven, and in his sudden panic, he started to search after Blitz, but he couldn’t find him anywhere. The man disappeared along with his coat and boots.

Rook stood in the hallway, moments away from crying. Blitz was gone. He knocked himself out with the damn flu and the love of his life left him, because who would want to stay like this?! Rook planned a happy, sexy evening, but ruined it and now he was to spend Christmas alone!

The doorknob turned in that moment, and as the door was opening, he saw the German with a big bag in his hand. Blitz eyes turned furious as he saw him. “Get back to the couch, now! You got fever, you walnut!”

“N-no, I am good, I feel better, everything is-”

“Julien, Julien… Babe stop already! You fainted in the middle of the kitchen and were asleep for two and a half hours. You look pale, you are shaking, so be a darling and go back to the couch before I take you there!”

“B-but our d-date..!” Rook burst out coughing.

Blitz looked at him meaningful. “Go back to the couch now, and I will be there too in a minute!”

“E-elias…!”

Blitz put down his bag and walked closer. He gave a kiss to his forehead, and gently petted his hair. “You planned a miracle date I am sure, but now you are sick and I want to take care of you, so please let me, okay?”

Rook nodded but didn’t move an inch.

Blitz smiled. “Do you want me to bring you back to the couch?”

Rook nodded again with a weak “Please”.

The german took him into his arms laughing and carried him back to the couch. He placed him there and covered him again with the blankets. “We can still watch the movie you picked, cuddled up, but I make you a tea and you take some pills, okay?”

Rook nervously started play with a button. “Okay. But… are you sure, you are not mad at me?”

“Why would I be, darling? Everybody gets sick from time to time, and I am planning to spend the rest of my Christmases by yours side, so we will have plenty of occasions to make your dream date possible.”

Rook looked up at him touched, and he looked as Blitz walked into the kitchen.

Blitz made some fresh tea, with honey in it, got Rook’s favourite mug, and some medicine for the headache. As he got back, he pushed his lips against Rook’s forehead and waited for a second. “You have a really bad fever, babe”

“My head is hurting so much.”

“And you are shivering. Would you like to have my shirt?”

Rook’s eyes lit up with fire. “Is that a real question?”

Laughing, Blitz took off his shirt, and Merry Christmas Rook, since all the German was wearing under, was a black muscle shirt. Rook almost started to salivate and he felt even worse for not being able to take the conversation to a more horizontal position.

As he got his hand on Blitz’s shirt, Rook put it on and sunk into the smell. “I feel better already. Especially if I can look at you like this. You look like a million dollars, Elias!”

“I noticed that you like this shirt when I wear it during training, and I thought that you can… you know, rip it off from me later, but now, I will heal you with its sight!” Blitz laughed. “Can I watch the movie lying on your shoulder?”

“Of course, darling!”

“Then I will be healthy by the end of the film!” Rook gave him a small grin, and waved at the Dvd case on top of the table. Blitz turned to get it, and when he read the label he grimaced a bit. Rook picked it so Charlie and the Chocolate Factory it was then.

He put the disc in and sat down next to Rook, hugging the man to himself as the movie started. Rook settled against his shoulder as he wished and they began to watch it.

As they got deeper and deeper into the movie, Blitz felt more and more uncomfortable. If he wanted to be honest, he loathed the movie. Everything about it made him self-destruct, but Rook seemed to enjoy it, so he couldn’t complain. After all,the French was the ill one, so…

When Blitz saw the first Oompa-Loompa, he turned away his face and instead of the TV, he just watched Rook in his arms. The man was pale and looked drawn-out, but the way his eyes sparkled under the lights of the movie, he was simply beautiful.

Soon, Rook noticed Blitz observing him, looked up at his lover. “What…? Am I looking this bad?”

“Oh, no-no! Nothing like that. You are just more interesting than the movie, to be honest!” Blitz smiled at him.

A flush coloured Rook’s face. “R-really? Am I more exciting than your favourite movie?”

Blinking with sudden confusion Blitz tilted his head. “My favourite what?”

Rook seemed equally confused. “Isn’t Charlie and the Chocolate Factory your favourite movie?”

“No!” Blitz started to laugh. “I hate this fucking waste of celluloid! The Oompa-Loompas are so scary, when I was younger I cried when I saw one!”

Now Rook was even more confused. “B-but… Oh gosh! I’m so-so sorry, Elias, I-I didn’t knew! Geez, I’m such a jerk!”

“Where did you get the idea of this being my favourite movie?” Blitz couldn’t stop laughing.

“I asked Dom.”

Blitz got serious all of a sudden. “That little piece of shit! I knew that somehow he would take revenge on us for having sex in his bed! It was a mistake to tell him my secret on a drunk night!” and again, he burst out laughing.

Everything clicked into its place in Rook’s head. “That fucker! Oh, gosh, I am so sorry, Elias, really!”

“Don’t worry, at least I will have stories to tell our grandkids!” Blitz grinned.

Rook flushed again, this time with a deeper shade of red. “Grandkids?”

“I said it already, I plan with you for lots of Christmases! What about now we shoot down this, and I help you get a cooling bath, and we get to bed?”

Nodding, Rook slowly got up, and turned off the TV. “Can I sleep in your shirt?”

“Do you want to keep my shirt?”

Rook face lit up. “Is that a real question?”

“Would you like me to carry you to the bathtub?”

“Why are you asking obvious questions, Elias, I don’t understand!” hearing this, Blitz lifted him into his arms, like the prince he was. Rook put his arms around his shoulders. “You spoil me, darling.”

“That’s my final goal!” with that, he walked them towards the bathroom. He helped with everything without hesitation, he even washed Rook’s back, and gave him a shoulder massage.

When they got out, he helped Rook into his shirt again, then to bed. Under the covers, he hugged the French to himself with a fond smile on his face.

“You really don’t mind that we are just chilling now, do you?” he looked up at Blitz.

“Nope, not really. I didn’t have plans for this evening honestly, I just wanted to spend Christmas with you, and we did exactly that, so I’m satisfied!”

Rook smiled at that. “How did I deserve you?”

“I don’t know, just being this amazing like you are?”

Sleepy, Rook rubbed his eyes with his knuckle. “You are too sweet, my teeth will rot!”

“Well, you are like the middle of a cinnamon roll for me!” Blitz looked at him, filled with love.

“Now what is some serious poetry there, dude!” Rook flushed.

Blitz shook with laughter, hugged his favourite French to himself and shut his eyes. “Good night, babe!”

“You too, darling” came the response.

In the end Rook’s Dream Christmas Date didn’t happen, but as he looked back at the master plan the day after, he needed to acknowledge that it was a close call.

As he calculated, Blitz brought delicious wine, admired his flat and the decoration. They did have a perfect kiss under the mistletoe, and instead of a booty grab, he found shelter in his lover’s arms.

They spent the dinner as he planned if he didn’t count the collapsing thing, and okay, Blitz didn’t kiss his palm, but he was there to support him while being sick.

They surely cuddled up on the couch, watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and they did forget about the movie just not for kisses, touches, groping or feeling each other.

They took a bubble bath together, and Blitz washed his back while he was weak and feverish. Sure, they didn’t make out on the couch or in the bathtub, but Blitz certainly took him into his arms and carried him wherever he asked.

Okay, they didn’t make sweet love as he planned first, but he had never been more sure about Blitz’s feelings towards him, and this made him happier than anything he wanted to try.

He surely fell asleep next to Blitz, and the morning after, he certainly woke up covered in layers of sheets, and the strong arms of his lover. As he turned towards the man lying next to him, he felt a smile bloom on his own face.

He had never felt this safe and loved in his entire life, and he knew that he wouldn’t exchange this for anything ever.

Merry Chirstmas again! <3

#rainbowsixsiege #blitz/rook #shipping #merry christmas #gift #for a friend #dragonwrites #dragontries

[taytaybooks]

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT MUSICALS THREAD #1: ANASTASIA

So I know heaps of people do/have done this but I really enjoy picking at and analysing things & I’d like to do something for myself rather than just reblogging once in a while, so I’ve decided every Tuesday I’ll post a “What I Love About Musicals” post and it’ll be sort of like a thread (all of them will be under a tag #what I love about musicals thread). So off we go!

*I HAVE EDITED THIS AFTER FINDING AN OBC BOOT*

PROLOGUE: ONCE UPON A DECEMBER

The haunting sort of “ahhs” at the start of the song

The costumes!!! (Romanov’s Last Dance)

The lighting!! It’s so cool, during the Romanov’s Last Dance, the lighting is red and when it goes dark after the last streak of red light (it’s like lightning!) 

THE SNOW!! It’s such a pretty touch😍

A RUMOUR IN ST. PETERSBURG

The sound of a busy town at the start of A Rumour in St. Petersburg

DEREK KLENA AND JOHN BOLTON IN GENERAL

“It’s really very friendly if you don’t mind spies”

LIGHTBULB😂 

 Vlad hitting Dimitry with his hat oml😂

Anya’s “NO”, showing her PTSD

“I could never part with it” “2 cans of beans comrade?” “Done"😂😂

“There’s more to being Anastasia than wearing a tiara, Dmitry”                       “Not much, look how many people you fooled"😂 I AM SHOOKETH

“And with luck we won’t be shot” then the thud that represents a gun shot straight after- that’s clever af

The way Derek sings “The biggest con in hisTORY”

IN MY DREAMS

“Her? Have you gone crazy too??”

CHRISTY ALTOMARE IN GENERAL WHAT A SMOL BEAN

“In my dreams shadows call” 😍😍

Again the haunting “ahhs” right after “But I know it all will come back one day”

“Is it Paris? …Paris”

“I’ll meet you right there, in Paris” the way she sings this oml

“I’ve seen flashes of fire Heard the echoes of screams” 😍

The crescendo of the orchestra at “don’t give up hope come what may”

Christy Altomare is a powerhouse tbh 

 ALSO THE SETS ARE 100% BETTER

LEARN TO DO IT

“Could it be?”

“Am I floating?” “Like a sinking boat” THE DYNAMIC OF THE TWO AHH DIMYA

When Vlad moves his arms so it’s like he’s flapping wings😂 

“You’re the ones who don’t stand straight”                                                        

“It’s all his years of bowing and katowing” 

“Bowing is a sign of respect”

“I bowed to someone once” 

“There, you admit it!” 

“I was a boy, I didn’t know any better. That was the first and last time-"😍😍 the end of In a Crowd of Thousands makes this interaction 1000x better

“I never cared for stroganoff”

“Your best friend is?” “My little brother Alexei” “Wrong! Your best friend is-” “I know who my best friend is!” “What a temper!” “I don’t like being contradicted!” “Well that makes two of us!” And poor Vlad is like fuckkkkkk why? It just shows their whole dynamic and I love it

“I’ve had it, and I hate you both!”

“Get out and let me be!”

Dima getting hit with the chalkboard lmaooo 

 Anya & Dima stepping on each other’s toes 

 The dancing!!! This trio is GOLDEN. 

 "Tomorrow we begin again” 

“In Russian…for the common man”

THE NEVA FLOWS

“A Russian telephone that works” 

 “…that was a joke…yes we have wonderful telephones” 

 Gleb low key gets everyone to leave him and Anya alone haha

The intro to The Neva Flows

“The world stopped breathing"😍

“But I believe he did a proud and vital task” his voice gets stronger and then at “The Neva Flows” the orchestra gets stronger/crescendoes

“Could I have pulled the trigger if I’d been told” I loved the way it was shouted in the Hartford production but I also love how tender it is in the Broadway Cast Recording

MY PETERSBURG

Anya chasing people & fighting them what a girl 

 HER BATTLE SCREEEEEAM

"Wanna see what else I can do!!”

“Black and blue welcome to my Petersburg” and then her jump lmao

“Funny how a boyyyy can grow”

“There’s a sky and quite a view Welcome toooo My Petersbuuuuuuurg”

ONCE UPON A DECEMBER

I love the costumes and dancers in Once Upon a December

THE GHOSTLY SILHOUTTES

Again the haunting “ahhs” after “figures dancing gracefully across my memory”

Just Christy Altomare in this performance in general- she’s amazing in this song

How tender and soft it gets at “things it yearns to remember”

STAY I PRAY YOU

In “Stay I Pray You” the ensemble hums and ahhs again and it’s different from “Once Upon a December” but still haunting in a way and it gives me chills

“How to go where I have never gone before” - it starts off emotional but their voices go down and softer towards the end😍

“I’ll bless my homeland” I love how it starts off as the trio then one by one they leave Anya alone to sing the last line

WE’LL GO FROM THERE

is so jaunty I love it

“Hands shaking, heart thundering, meet the Royal mess” the whole vibe changes and I love it

Those women who are low key very annoyed with Dima for standing on their bench

The canon effect of dmitry and anya

“For a totally illegal lovely getaway” makes me smile every time

The part where they all sing their respective parts 😍

Their long as note at the end

“With orders to arrest two men and a young woman” 

“That could be anyone” 

“I don’t think so” 

*holds up a wanted poster with their faces on it* lmaooo

Anya leading the jump off the train

“Anya can’t go on any further. She’s exhausted”- Vlad

STILL

“is it innocence or guile”

“A son becomes a man!”

“To fulfill!”

“I’m innocent she cries but then you see her eyes and something in them tells you that she absolutely lies”

“Still” at the end because that note

JOURNEY TO THE PAST

When she sits down on the suitcase but gets up at “How the world seems so vast”

The way Christy sings “fear” in Journey to the Past

“Home love family I’ll never be complete until I find youuuuu”

The whole last verse

“And bring me home at laaaaaaast!”- the iconic set change where the scene changes & the Eiffel Tower comes into view 

PARIS HOLDS THE KEY (TO YOUR HEART)

Ok the Hartford version of “Paris holds the key (to your heart)” was hilarious- I loved Gertrude Stein and her “rose is a rose is a rose” quotes

“Paris holds the key to her fate We won’t have much longer to wait And then come what may We will each go our way…” The mood/vibe shifts and it sounds slightly magical (I assume this is when she wears the pink dress?)

I love Anya’s new part in it, it sounds so magical

VLAD “At last, there’s a future”

DMITRY “There’s freedom”

ANYA “There’s hope”

ALL THREE “In the air!” - these lyrics are so optimistic and I adore it

The fucking dancing lmaooooo

CROSSING A BRIDGE

“Somebody’s daughter” I just love the way this is sung I don’t know why

her voice Oml

“In between wondering why and finally knowing”

“Me on the left bank you on the right” again the way she sings it

“Almost in siiiiiiight”

“One of them might be you” again she sings it so beautifully gah

CLOSE THE DOOR

“The Grand Duchess Anastasia is dead. The Dowager Empress is dead with her” this breaks my heart every time

The emotion in “Close the Door” always breaks my heart

The repetition of “to me” in the first verse 😭

It’s just all so raw and it’s beautifully sung with equal amounts talent and raw emotion

“In my heart I know you’re a lie I’ve waited for” I cry man

“Tell them all no more Tell them I close the door” 😍😭

LAND OF YESTERDAY

“No caviar”

“And Russians are mad” never fails to amuse me

“In dire circumstances” I love the way this is sung

The small dance bit with the aristocrats just chatting and watching etc😍 and then the music gets faster

“Let’s live in the land of yesterday” it’s almost as if she’s whispering and it sounds so good

“And let’s hold the world at bay” that note tho and she just danced 😍

THE COUNTESS AND THE COMMON MAN

is hilarious, Catherine O’ Connor is amazing as Lily

“We tiptoed off to Peter Hoff” the way he sings it

THE DANCE SECTION and how they act tired afterwards

THE KISS

“And how my heart beat when you sent me our sign”

“I loved you You loved me”

VLAD GIVES LILY HIS JACKET WHAT

Also Land of Yesterday Reprise is awesome

IN A CROWD OF THOUSANDS

The ahhs and ghostly silhouettes again before Dima comes in

THE WHOLE SONG. JUST ALL OF IT.

The introduction

“How they cheered How I stared"😍

“And then she smiled” the way it’s sung and the lyric itself

“But if I were still ten In that crowd of thousands I’d find her again"😍😍😭

“Then a boy caught my eye” that head lean he does like wtf

“He was thin Not too clean"😂😍 and they both laugh 

“I tried not to smile But I smiled And then he bowed”

“I didn’t tell you that” “You didn’t have to. I remember!” The pure emotion in their voices😍

Then when they hold each other ahhh

And then “in a crowd of thousands I’d find you again”

Ok so in the broadway boot he cups her cheek & they almost kiss, like why do you have to play with my emotions like that

“Your highness” then he bows ahhhh it’s so cute especially since he made fun of Vlad for bowing in Court in “Learn to Do It”

MEANT TO BE

Ok so this is super smart: when the Parisians/Russians etc come on stage the instrumental to “Paris Holds the Key (to Your Heart)” plays, then when the Dowager Empress walks on to the stage, the instrumental to ”Close the Door” plays, and when Dmitry walks on, the instrumental to “In a Crowd of Thousands” plays 😍

Vlad and Lily doing their ‘signs’ lmao

Vlad trying to clean Dima’s cheek bahaha then Dmitry is like shove off

The way it turns sort of magical/enchanting when Anya comes out in that iconic blue dress and Dmitry is shining his shoes and he looks up slowly in awe then quickly holds his arm out for her after he gets up and she takes it and they walk in to the ballet ahhh

QUARTET AT THE BALLET

The dancers are top notch and deserve more recognition

IT IS UNDERRATED

“Am I only dreaming Looking at her face” is sung so beautifully

Dmitry’s part in it (second verse)

The Dowager and her raw emotion and denial in the third verse

“Don’t be ridiculous”

“My heart and mind at war The times must change The world must change And love is not what revolution’s for”

“It’s fate that brought us here"😍 Derek and Ramin singing together gah

When they’re all singing their respective parts

Especially Dmitry’s part when it’s chaos tho “Home, Love, Family She will have all of it! I will help her Find a way Anastasia”

And that last note as all the parts merge into one part “find a way Anastasia” plus the fact that DIma looks at Anya when singing this

EVERYTHING TO WIN

THE WHOLE SONG

“Why should I worry Worrying’s not like me”

“I wonder if our paths Will ever cross again The way they Did when you were eight and I was ten”

“We said this was goodbye But even so You never know You never knowwww”

“I didn’t know she mattered to me But now I can see she does”

“Funny the one small part I never knew… With everything to win The only thing I lose *instrumental to the ‘home love family’ part of Journey to the Past plays* Is you”

Those are some of my fave parts and lyrics because it’s such a cute song

Dmitry stomping on the Dowager Empress’ dress and the Empress slapping him 

ONCE UPON A DECEMBER (REPRISE)

“Save it for your next Anastai- your Imperial Majesty”

I love the new addition of Anya’s new dress

It’s so simple- there isn’t a huge orchestral presence yet it’s so effective

“It’s never too late to come home, Nana”

The “Anastasia!” The Dowager Empress says at the end- it’s so emotional

THE PRESS CONFERENCE

“P-O-P-O-V” Vlad is great, this always makes me smile

“Suffice to say You’ll meet today The little lost princess” and the uproar from both the press and Lily herself, I find it hilarious. Good old Vlad

“We’re nearly read to begiiiin” Love how she sings this honestly

“Is she the princess anastasiaaaaaa” I love how they hold this note because it’s this huge question everyone has, and it’s been on their minds for so long.

“Members of the press This waaaaaaay” Caroline is a goddess her voice ahhh this is sung so well I love it

EVERYTHING TO WIN (REPRISE)

“I didn’t know he mattered to me But now I can see he does..” So cute

“The only thing I lose Is…” *gets cut off by Gleb* but still cute

STILL/THE NEVA FLOWS (REPRISE)

“Gleb” the emotion in her voice Oml

“If you really are Anastasia Do you think history wants you to have lived?” This is so important because that’s actually such a big part of her story- there are those who kept those rumours going to get through the day and those who tried to stop the rumours and hunt down any Anastasias so they could kill her and finish off the Romanov bloodline.

“Yes! why don’t you?” The emotion in their voices

“I am my fathers daughter” “And I am my fathers son!!” Again emotion

The ahhs from the ensemble it’s so haunting and chilling

And how the lighting changes to red to show the danger she’s facing 😍😍 and the ghosts of the fallen Romanovs walking in to show impending death but when she doesn’t get shot they slowly back away to show the danger is no longer there

“Imagine their terrors See their blood” SO EMOTIONAL

“We have a past to bury Anyaaaaa” THE EMOTION & THE LYRIC AND THE WAY ITS SUNG IN GENERAL

The ensemble when they sing “and the Neva flows, a new wind blows” it’s so chilling

And in the Hartford production when Christy shouts “I AM THE GRAND DUCHESS ANASTASIA NIKOLAEVNA ROMANOV”

“Be careful what a wish may bring A revolution is a simple thing!” It’s so emotional, the crescendo of music kind of stops and then there’s silence- we expect a gunshot but he still couldn’t do it - Broadway Gleb is nicer I guess? Like you can’t help but sympathize with him so when he whispers “I can’t” afterwards it’s sort of sad & heartbreaking

FINALE

“She was a dream” “A beautiful dream” symbolises that for so long no one knew what happened and then we found out she really did die- so her survival and Anastasia herself were really part of this beautiful dream.

“Still…” Symbolises those who still had hope she lived.

The ensemble singing the Once Upon a December verse

“Once upon a Deceeembeeeeer” is honestly such a beautiful way to end the musical and with Dimya just standing there together ahhhh so cute

And how there’s a spotlight on Dimya just before all the lights go out at the end

So basically I LOVE THIS WHOLE MUSICAL

Feel free to add anything guys xx💙💙

Other Threads 

Amélie

#anastasia #anastasia Broadway #Anastasia musical #broadway #musicals #musical theatre #broadway musicals #what I love about musicals thread

[kelly-fasel]

Getting hurt, (Alfie Solomons)

Being the company nurse you had gotten to know lots of the workers pretty well, down to the names of their kids.. But since the Shelby's put in men it had gotten more hectic. New faces, lots of fights.. Due to that you hadnt really gotten time to know the new men.. The men wanted to know you though, catcalling and flirting..The elder workers cut that all down but then it started again with faking injuries.. When a few started to grope you, you decided it had been enough.

knocking on Alfies door you waited for a anserw

''Yeah?!Come on''

Stepping in you saw alfie sit there..His glasses on his nose as he was looking through some papers..

''Alfie. Would you talk to the new Shelby boys..I'm not comfortable around them. they grope and call me vulgair names.. Make up being sick.. I don't want you to hurt them..just speak to them or I will start looking for someone who wants to take my place here.'' You were suprised at how strong you came over.. you tend to get emotional alot lately..

''They fuckin what? who they think they fuckin with ey? Fuckin cunt.. Love go back to your place. Take the rest of the day off. I'll sort this'' He took of his glasses and got up, a slow grunt coming from his throat

''Call me Afterwards okay Alfie.. '' He nodded and walked me out..

---------------------------

Pacing  back and forth in the livingroom waiting for Alfies call you got interrupted by a knock at the door..

''Alfie you were supposed to call..'' You said stepping over.. opening up you realised who were standing infront of you.. trying to close the door it was pushed open..

(I'm not going to describe the things that happend because I'm not great at that yet..Working on it!! same with Smut! So the men barged in.. and kicked the hell out of her.. her brothers were out of town to their grandmother so she was alone. after beating her up badly they wanted more. she remembered her brothers service guns. able to reach one she shot one of the guys.. they fled. She passed out

-----------------------------

the sound of a ringing phone awoke you the first time.. you could feel pain.. everywhere.. is was coursin through your body.. Crawling towards the table you tried reaching.. but the weakness wouldnt allow it..getting not more then a mere inch from the ground.. darkness took over..

The second time you were awakened by banging on the door.. eventually the floor shook as a wave of wind hit your face.. followed by a loud bang.. Then hands touching and lifting your body. you could feel panic and then nothing. Blackness took over..

----------------------------

The third time you awoke you were feeling less pain..just freezing cold..where the hell were you?.. Hell? trying to open your eyes it felt like glue had shut them..you could see the red of your eyelids.. meaning you were in the sun.. after a little while of trying to move you managed to open your eyelids.. the sun was indeed there and burning in your eyes..groaning as reflex you turned your head.. seeing a sleeping figure in the chair next to you.. Alfie..

''Alf..'' You managed to mutter.. struggling to speak hard enough

Luckily he awoke straight away..

''Queenie.. you're awake...'' He spoke getting of the chair and on his knees..

''Alf..Sun..'' You managed to mutter, the cold really getting to you

''Oh fuckin hell right.'' He got up and strutted to the curtains, closing them enough for the sun to not be a bother.

strutting back over he got on his knees again. ''How do you feel?''

you could made a slight motion for him to grab your hand.. the extreme warmth of his hand against your freezing one was euphoric..

''You're still cold..fuckin hell.. you're under six blankets..I told them to heat up the room..'' He was visibly upset. Letting go he walked to the door and closed it, closing the blinds he came back.. Unbuttoning his shirt.. leaving him in his undershirt and pants. he kicked of his boots and leaned over

''No buts.'' He gently moved me to the side before climbin in bed himself.

''Alf.. No..'' You started.. your voice weak.

''I'm not letting you freeze.. '' He spoke wrapping his arms around your body..

It was then you noticed the Tattoos..

''I was a bit of a wild one..'' He interrupted watching me stare..

''Still..'' You muttered shivering as you felt his heat slowly spread..

''Sleep''

------------------------------

about a week later I was good to go home. I hadnt informed my brothers. I probably wouldnt either.. Alfie and you were seated in his car, being driven by his driver you ended up at one of the bigger flats, just down the street of the Bakery..

''Alfie..You live here?''

''Yeah Pet.''

''And you walk me home..''

''I do.''

''My flat is on the other side of town.. a halfhour from here''

''it is.''

''You're a softie.''

''I happen to be fond of you. when I'm not around. this happens.. you attract trouble.'' He mocked stepping out with a grunt.. strutting to my side he opened the door and helped me out

''Are we going to the bakery or..''

''No. You'll be staying with me yeah. Doctors orders. right. Come on then.'' he said as he started to walk grabbing his keys

------------------------------

it had been a few nights and It was strange living with Alfie... He was a perfect gentlemen.. he wasnt the most clean person..nothing disgusting just sloppy. he had a maid once every week. He could bake bread.. which was kind of ironic....He had a book collection that you could only dream off..and he was quite pleasurable to be with, talk with at night.  Since he was away half the day. everyday. having Ollie check in every hour. calling at his lunchbreaks.

Cuddled up in the windowseat with Cyril you were healing very well. being very sore but not pained. You had Ollie run to the market and shop for you.. You made some of the dishes in a old recipe book you found..

When he came home that evening, early.. he hung up his hat, his coat and his cane.

''Francis. Whats.. It's tha. fuckin ell.'' He said entering the kitchen ''My favorite.''

You smiled walking over ''I thought.. as a thank you... I mean I should be going home soon. I have more then overstayed my welcome''

''Poppy. the lot of it. You will stay right ere. where I can keep an eye on you ey. Right. Besides I oughta enjoy the singing you do in bath.''

''Can I go to work?.. Your apartment is really great..but.. I think its time for me to be productive.''

''Yeah well.. the lads have been asking about you. Having informed them a full scale brawl append. yeah. you do have em all round your pretty little finger.''

''I hadnt noticed. you know being kind and caring inspires loyalty too,'' You spoke teasing as you put a plate down infront of him, putting your own plate opposite of him, taking a seat

''Yeah well. Money is a good insurance.  Ey Pet. My Sciatica is bad today. I'm sure I twisted something with carrying barrels.''

''I'll rub give you a rub later. Don't make a joke.'' You warned as you started to eat..

The rest of the dinner you two had light conversation about your days.. you yourself didnt really like some of the dishes.. so you sneaked them to Cyril when Alfie wouldnt look.

After dinner you did the dishes, Alfie did some of the paperwork for that day.

After all that you gave him a massage.

Which is now..

''You're really tensed.''  You said applying pressure on your rubs, with slight difficulty because of your tired and painfull muscles

''Yeah well with a good reason right Sweetheart.'' He spoke in a low grunt

With a smile you went on ''Alf. Your tattoos. Theres alot of them.. Do they have meaning?''

Alfie raised his hand to show a tattoo of a crown.. ''That one I earned, It's russian..Represents criminal boss, Authority.''

''Wow..And the others..''

''Those I deserved over the years.. Do you like tattoos?''

''I do..Theyre intruiging..''

''Let me tell you about them.''

----------------------

What did you guys think of Alfies death?I'm so heartbroken.. Fuckin Tommy een left Cyril to fend for himself.. How would you take revenge? Who do you hope revenges Alfie? Doesnt have to be canon or anything.. I'd love to read fantasy ideas !! <3 Btw I have written a revenge chapter. should I upload? It's a bit..raw but yeah

#alfie solomons imagine #alfiesolomons #rip alfie #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders