#larisa complains it all

[smokesforwolves]

Mikey: You know that voice in your head that tells you not to murder ppl?

Takemichi: …

Takemichi: Your conscious?

Mikey: Ofc I’m conscious, we’re having a conversation, Takemitchy. Aren’t you listening?

Takemichi: …

Mikey: Anyway I don’t have one of those

#tokyo revengers #takemichi hanagaki #hanagaki takemichi #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #mikey #maitake #mitake #Tokyo Rev #larisa complains it all

[under1roof35]

Day 14: The 2 Rats Running Their Mouths

I just overheard Chantal and Tyler talking all kinds of shit about me in their room. They left their door open and were talking loud enough so they obviously weren’t trying to be that discreet. We're all adults here (well clearly not all of us) but we're all going to shit talk each other at one point which is expected. But at least have the balls to say it to my face. We're stuck on a boat for fucks sake, you know where to find me lol. But they’re cowards so I’m not even surprised. They are the youngest ones here so they must think this is still high school with their catty immature bullshit. I don’t associate with fake people. They both smile in my face and act like everything’s cool, yet they’ve just spent a good 20 minutes talking about how I’m a bitch, how I’m entitled and self righteous etc. And all of this because what? They’re mad over the fact that I stood up for and supported Jess when half the house decided not to last night?! That’s why they want to sit around and talk shit about me now?? Grow the fuck up and get a clue. You don’t see Larisa, Lucky or Jean-Luc running around here bitching and complaining over stupid shit. I called them out too, it’s not like I was singling Tyler and Chantal out, but It’s cool, now I know who I don’t trust or fuck with in this group. 

Dani

[herwonderland7]

CHAPTER 4 ― THE HYACINTH AND THE STATUE

“Pray? I’m not exactly dead-dead.”

SUMMARY ― The hyacinths, flowers that were magically made by the late princess, out of nowhere glows causing Youngjae, Bambam and Yugyeom to freak out, while Aera was being shown to a life-size statue.

CHARACTERS ― Princess Riana Aera/Princess Diana, Aerina (The White Queen), Grandma Kim, Choi Youngjae, Bambam, Kim Yugyeom, Iris (Morian’s Royal Gardener)

WARNINGS/AUTHOR’S NOTE ― mention of death and torture. Lots of ‘what if’s from the princes of Morian and now we know Larisa’s character. Who do you think the Queen was mentioning about? (I forgot to mention that Aera has Scarlet witch’s powers. I’ll probably describe her as a witch.)

GENRE ― fantasy, got7!as!princes, got7!as!werewolves, got7!royalty

CHOI YOUNGJAE

“I should go—

“No. You can stay, Iris. You are the only one, other of the other princes, that I trust—

“—and you are Youngjae’s cute girlfriend! You are considered a family to us!” Bambam cuts me off, winking towards her. 

I was talking to Iris - the royal gardener of Morian and my girlfriend.

She wanted to leave Bambam and Yugyeom with me alone, but I wanted her to stay since she has been with me for almost 4 years and I trust her with all of my heart.

“Iris deserved to be considered family to us, not that arrogant brat.” Yugyeom muttered as he sighed. 

“Now, now. What happened this time?” I asked, noticing that both Bambam and Yugyeom’s shoulders slump down in disappointment.

I think I know what they are going to answer.

“Jaebeom isn’t bringing Juno this time.”  

“Not surprised at all.” I answered Bambam, as I was leading them somewhere.

“But he is bringing that brat, Youngjae! I don’t get it all! She doesn't consider family to us, yet she invited herself to our family gatherings!” Yugyeom complained at the same whining at the back.

I sighed softly, at the same time agreeing to what Yugyeom had said.

Larisa Erida is the most despised noble in Morian Kingdom’s household, yet Jaebeom still invited her - which frustrates some of us.

 I began hating her after seeing her emotionally abusing Iris, and I kind of lashed out to both Jaebeom and his girlfriend. 

I don’t even know what’s wrong with Jaebeom, it seems he is bewitched with the daughter of Erida, which I don’t find her attractive, in terms of personality.

She is as bad as a witch.

“That’s Jaebeom for you. We’ll see how long they can last.”

“But Youngjae, what if Jaebeom wants to marry her?” Bambam muttered closely towards Youngjae, as they somehow stopped in front of Youngjae’s personal garden.

“Bambam’s right. Which means she would be Queen of Morian. That would be a total disaster. She would turn Morian upside down in just a second. We all know what Erida's family is known for.” Yugyeom added, his voice that was loud previously became a whisper.

“...which is sabotaging others… What if she just wants Jaebeom’s crown? That’s more messed up.” Bambam continued while clinging onto me.

“Okay, that’s too far, Bambam. Jaebeom knows what he's doing, and I don’t think Queen Aerina isn’t going to be happy with the news of him marrying that girl.” I said while looking towards Iris, who was slowly nodding.

She knows the history of what had happened with Queen Aerina and the family of Erida.

“Prince Youngjae is right. After-all, Queen Aerina has the same percentage of your highness on ruling Morian.” Iris answered with a smile.

I know she is grateful to Queen Aerina.

She was the one who picked Iris to be an addition to the royal household. The Queen even paid all Iris’s debt in exchange for her to work with us. 

Thanks to the Queen, I get to meet the love of my life.

“Thank god for Queen Aerina. Aera is clever, she knew before-hand.” Bambam muttered, although we could hear him clearly. 

Other than us ruling Morian, Aera had written another will that if anything, we had to ask Queen Aerina of approval in big decisions regarding Morian.

I can’t help but smile when hearing Aera’s name.

She had been a blessing to all of us, including the royal household workers.

“Speaking of Aera, I need to show you something. And this is  just between the 3 of us, do you hear me?” I warned them, before proceeding to lead them towards a certain corner.

“Is that…..? Why is it glowing, Youngjae!?!” Yugyeom freaked out as he stood behind Iris. 

“I was cleaning the garden and I happened to see it glowing from far, your highness. I had to hurry to Prince Youngjae and hence, he told me to call you in a hurry regarding the flowers.” Iris politely informed.

Bambam turned towards her.

“That isn't just flowers, my dear. They are hyacinth, flowers that were magically made from the late princess. Youngjae was there, he has seen it all….. B-but why is it glowing?” Bambam turned towards me, his voice sounded shaky at the end, already knowing that he is worried.

“I already checked beforehand. No one had disturbed it.” I added, noticing both Bambam and Yugyeom’s expressions.

“It has never glowed before. Why now?” Yugyeom continued, as he stared at the bushes of hyacinths. 

I know the reason why it glowed. 

But I have no idea how to phrase my words to them.

I don’t think they believe the terms of ‘the dead becoming alive’.

“That’s because they sense her energy.” I answered timidly, while turning towards the flowers.

I could feel all eyes were on me.

“...So you’re saying Aera is still alive?” Bambam questioned softly, eyes as big as previously. 

“But we all saw her passing.” Yugyeom muttered to himself.

“I don’t know, Gyeom. But what I can assure you, is that there is an energy out there that is similar to our late princess’s.”

Or maybe it could really be her.

Aera stared at the clock, putting down the pen as she closed her eyes.

She was in her own personal room, and she was given a new task by the Queen regarding the kingdom’s report. 

The Queen believes that Aera could catch up by knowing how the kingdom had become to be, and by just looking at a few papers, Aera already knew the kingdom was slowly going forward.

“Is everything going well, my love?” The Queen questioned, making Aera put down a paper. 

Her attention was fully onto the Queen now.

Aera was stuck in her old room and she decided that she would be using her old room as her study, while her new room is where she would take a rest. 

She didn’t realise the White Queen had entered her room until she spoke.

“Mother, I didn’t realise you came in.” 

“Of course, you were busy reading the reports. I’m just checking on you because I heard from the generals that the reports are complicated,” answered the Queen with a soft smile, seeing Aera leaning against the chair while nodding her head.

“It is, but I can do it. So, what brings you here?” 

The White Queen looked away from her, before turning towards Aera with a serious expression.

“Grandma Kim and I had a talk and we had decided that since you’re here, you need to do Princess Diana’s work while trying to do your royal duties.” The Queen explained carefully and Aera raised an eyebrow, kind of curious on what the Queen had planned for her.

Aera couldn’t whine or rebel against the White Queen because she too wanted to keep her identity low and safe, so she just agreed on whatever the White Queen and Grandma Kim had in store.

“Other than a princess to her own kingdom, Princess Diana is a top-designer tailor and dressmaker, which she custom-made dresses and suits for royal families. I have prepared a room for you to start on your researchers regarding Princess Diana’s designs. Everything is already prepared for you. The room is just beside your old room, so no one could access it, ” The White Queen explained, giving Aera a silver key which she took without hesitation.

“Thank you, mother.” 

With a smile, The White Queen was about to walk away when she stopped herself.

“I forgot but you have received a request from one of our neighboring countries since it is related to the parades. I advised you should do it today, my love.” advised The White Queen, leaving the taken-aback Aera who was staring at the key then to the Queen’s back.

GAE AERA

My jaw dropped after I unlocked the door.

I was met by multiple dresses in clothing racks, that were in different colors. 

All range of colors.

There were even mannequins at the side and the other end were suits.

What caught my eyes was my study table that had a sewing machine and different equipment.

I am lucky that I was taught to sew back in the other world.

I was happy with what mother had given me, but it wasn’t up to my standard.

What if I use magic? 

So far, mother and Grandma Kim haven't spoken a word of me not using it.

Raising my dominant hand, there were already traces of reddish pink lights as I wave my fingers. 

My hands moved towards where the dresses are, and within a second, all of the clothing racks as well as the mannequins floated in the air as they travelled to where I wanted in mind.

I didn’t even enchant my spells and it already got to where I wanted.

That’s weird, my magic wasn’t as strong as I was previously in Wonderland.

“That’s because whenever you appear in this world, your powers will grow stronger.” 

Turning towards the voice, there stood Grandma Kim with her usual wooden stick. 

I didn’t even hear the door opening. 

I even locked the room.

How did she got in?

“How did you get in?! I locked the doors!”

“I’m a witch, princess. Hence, I can sense your powers. Now, I’m afraid that I have to warn you.” Grandma Kim said in seriousness as she walked towards me.

“...I should have seen this coming. Either you or mother wouldn’t allow me to use magic.” 

“True. I just want you to be careful. You can use magic but not in public or in other kingdoms. There are creatures out there who could sense your powers from far..... Even the enemy.” 

Grandma Kim is right, maybe I shouldn’t be using magic although they looked powerful. 

But I am given these powers, I should use them at the same time helping others.

There was a soft smile on Grandma Kim, as I could tell she had read my thoughts.

“Your passion for helping people has always been in you, Aera. There is no wonder why the royal household looks up to you. Come, let me show you something.”

Before I can even say anything, Grandma Kim had already walked past me, making me catch up with her.

GAE AERA

I was being led out of the palace, to figure out we were walking next to a large garden where there are different statues. 

Yellow, crispy leaves were falling down, since it is falling in here.

As we walked down the path, right in front, there was a life-size statue that caught my eyes.

What’s interesting is that there are many bouquets of flowers, different kinds.

The garden gives me the vibes of a memorial place.

I decided to walk ahead, walking straight to the huge statue.

I could tell who the statue was.

I turned towards Grandma Kim, before turning towards the face of the statue.

“Do you know who that is?” Grandma Kim asked from behind.

My eyes travelled towards the description of the statue, the letters were engraved in silver.

“Princess Riana Aera. A hero and a goddess that everyone would cherish. Rest In Peace.” 

Reading the words and guessing from Grandma Kim’s words previously, this must be the citizens’ doing.

“I’m guessing the citizens wanted to make this..?” I pointed towards the statue, which Grandma Kim nodded to my question.

It’s kind of weird seeing statues of me everywhere, knowing that I am still alive.

“It’s not just here. Other kingdoms were being made too. But the famous one would be in Morian. It’s a place where people of all ages who came from different kingdoms, different species, come together to pray for you.” 

My eyes widened in shock. 

Pray?

“Pray? I’m not exactly dead-dead.”

“It is to others. The upcoming parade is actually your 1,000 death anniversary.”

“1,000th!?! But, it’s been a year! I’m 24 this year! Last year was 23.”

“Not here, my dear. In your world is a year. In Wonderland, time isn’t fixed here. A year can be a thousand.” Grandma Kim answered softly, as she was already leading me out of the garden.

As expected.

Not surprised.

But a thousand years, that’s a lot.

Which means there are so many events I had missed, and looks like the library is the answer to my questions.

I should go to the library after I finish altering the suits.

“There’s so much I have to know. A lot has changed here, as expected. Well, I’m afraid I have to go back to my tailor room. I have a few more suits to settle. See you later, Grandma!” 

I waved goodbye to Grandma Kim, not waiting for her reply as she was yelling to me to not run, which I didn’t bother to listen to.

There were a lot of torturing screams in the White Queen’s head, causing her to turn her head aggressively.

She could see everything, where they were, who were hurting them.

The screams became more intense, causing the Queen to have both of her hands gripping onto both of her head in a throbbing pain.

‘Please.. Help us…’

“Aerina! Do you hear me!?”

Hearing the shouting voice, the Queen’s eyes shot open, to see the elderly standing directly in front of her. 

Looking around, the Queen realized that she was in the throne room, sitting in a corner.

“It’s them, again.” The Queen whispered, and Grandma Kim’s expression hardened. 

“We have to save them. I’m afraid they won’t last long.” The Queen holds onto the elderly’s fragile hand.

“Aerina, sending out the knights, even your amazons aren’t enough. You know how powerful they are.” 

The Queen instantly looked away, remembering that she did try sending out her greatest warriors, her amazons and even the kingdom’s knight. 

But none came back alive.

The Queen could feel the elderly’s stare, and the Queen knew what was the answer.

Even she, herself knew the answer.

But she is afraid of sending her out.

“I can’t let her out, Grandma. She will slowly be exposed.”

“Exactly. She will slowly be exposed, hence her identity would be revealed. But we have no choice. Either letting her to save them or them to eventually die. You know if Aera finds out, she would be in rage and depressed. You do not want to see our princess being sad and miserable, do you?”

The Queen leans back to her throne, eyes downcast.

There was something that both Grandma Kim and the Queen were hiding from Aera, which was her true powers. 

They were discussing back and forth on whether they should be upfront about her new powers or, hiding it from her, wanting her to find out by herself.

But situations that the Queen was facing are getting out of hand.

There was always a reason why she is back to Wonderland.

She meant to save people in this world.

Looking towards the elderly, the Queen cups onto her wrinkly hands.

“Have the most skillful amazons to sharpen her swordsmanship, and I need you to guide her on her chaos magic.”

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⤄ 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

#got7 au #got7 royal!au #got7 prince!au #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 mark #got7 jaebeom #got7 jackson #got7 jinyoung #got7 youngjae #got7 bambam #got7 yugyeom

[a-and-mtrashpile]

Emerson Barrett: Spoiled

Anon requested: Can I request an Emerson imagine that's super fluffy of it being the readers birthday and him just wanting to spoil the heck outta them & make them feel as special as they are to him because that shit makes me soft :')

A/N: I hope you like it annonie~~

Emerson slowly opened the door, the tray in his hand as he tried to not drop it. He set it on the top of the dresser before coming over to wake you up. "Baby, wake up," he mumbled against your temple as he placed kisses all over your face.

You swatted him away before groaning and rolling over, causing him to chuckle. "I made you breakfast love, wake up," he said, a little louder now. You groaned again then sat up on the pillows, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Emerson grabbed the tray and set it in his spot on the bed, sitting himself at your feet.

"Why'd you make me breakfast? Did I forget an anniversary?" "No, love. It's your birthday and I want to spoil you." You smiled and picked up the bowl of cereal, chuckling at the plastic heart spoon.

"So, what do you have planned today?" "Well, that's a surprise. But once you're done eating, I want you to get changed so you can go get your hair done," he said before placing another kiss on your temple and walking out.

"My hair done? What does this boy have planned?" You mumbled to yourself as you continued to eat.

Once you were finished, you carried the tray back downstairs and set it on the counter, deciding you'd clean it later. When you got back into the room, you threw on a comfy pair of leggings and a random shirt from the closet. "Don't forget a coat! It's kinda cold today!" Emerson yelled from somewhere in the house.

You smiled before grabbing one of his coats, your phone, and purse. While you were at the door putting on your shoes, Emerson appeared. "Have fun, love," he whispered before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

There was a honk outside and Emerson opened the door for you, leading you out to the car. He opened the backseat door to the car and helped you get in, you laughing when you saw who was in the front seat. Emerson gave you another kiss before shutting the door and walking back into the house.

"So uh, we're your chauffer's for the day and there's no way you can get out of it," Remington said from the passenger seat. "You know, I'm just glad Sebastian's the one driving not you." "Wow, rude."

Remington messed around with the music, the two of you trying to annoy Sebastian as he drove to the salon.

"So, who's doing my hair?" You asked as you got out of the car with your purse, Remington throwing his arm around your shoulders as Sebastian led you into the cute salon. "Hi, how may I help you today?" The receptionist said as the three of you walked up to the desk. "We have a hair appointment for Kropp."

"With Larisa, right?" "Yup," Sebastian said, a big smile on his face. "Alright, she'll be out to get you in a second if you guys want to sit over there and wait." Sebastian nodded as you and Remington sat together, still finding little ways to annoy Sebastian.

"Sebastian? You can bring her back!" A voice shouted from the section of salon chairs.

Sebastian stood up and pulled the two of you with him, smiling once he saw his girlfriend. "How do you know her?" You asked, sitting down where you were told. "Well, we've been dating for about a month now."

Both you and Remington gasped before squealing and high-fiving each other. "Finally! Now I don't have to deal with you complaining about being single anymore!" Remington said as Larisa laughed, starting to work on your hair.

She wasn't doing anything major to it, she was just styling it for whatever Emerson had planned. Eventually, the boys left and you got to know Larisa more.

"Wait, so he just jumped on top of the two of you in the bunk? How did all of you fit? And how did he manage to jump on top of you guys?" "Honestly, I don't know but I'm more surprised Emerson didn't castrate him on the stop. That man is so serious about his sleep."

Larisa laughed before adding some finishing touches to your hair. "I know you just sat there for however long that was, but I'm just doing what I was told. There's an outfit I have for you to change into per the bosses orders," she said as you finished gawking over your hair.

Once you changed, it didn't take Emerson long to show up. "You did beyond amazing Larisa, thank you," Emerson said as he wrapped an arm around your waist. "You're welcome, have fun on your date!"

"Alright, you're gonna have to cover your eyes once we get to the spot." You started to question even more what was happening but decided to go along with it.

"Are your eyes covered?" "Yes Emerson, they've been covered for the past ten minutes." He chuckled before taking the key out of the engine and walking over to your side, helping you out of the car.

He led you up onto a hard surface, gently taking your hand off your eyes. A gasp escaped your mouth as you looked at all the lights around the small gazebo. "How did you manage to do this?" "I had a little help," you chuckled as you saw his mom and brothers sitting a little bit away, taking pictures of the two of you.

You waved to Stephanie before Emerson turned on the small stereo, classical music softly playing from the speakers. "Happy birthday, love," Emerson said as he started swaying you two around. "Why did you do all of this?"

"Because you're the love of my life and I wanted to spoil the fuck out of you to celebrate your birthday," Emerson said, a big smile on his face. "God, for someone so smart, sometimes you are so cheesy and cute."

"NOW KISS OW- MOM STOP HITTING ME OW-" The two of you chuckled as you both turned to glance at Remington running from his older brother, Stephanie laughing as she shook her head. "Oh, I also planned a nice dinner but they weaseled their way into it. That's why they're all here, they didn't trust me to drive us," you laughed as Emerson pulled you closer, still swaying to the music.

#admin m #palaye royale #palaye royale imagine #emerson barrett #emerson barrett imagine #remington leith #remington leith imagine #sebastian danzig #sebastian danzig imagine #daniel curcio #daniel curcio imagine #imagines

[angelaiswriting]

Hawkeye | Clint Barton x fem!OC

[original picture found on: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings: Clint Barton x (non described) fem!OC 

✏️ Requested by my moods

✏️ Summary: For ten years now, Clint Barton has been Larisa Goncharova’s greatest fantasy. And now that they’re both sent on an undercover mission together, she doesn’t miss her chance to pay him back for the way he’s made her feel at Stark’s charity event.

✏️ A/N: just happy reading and sorry it’s so damn long.

✏️ Warnings: 18+ only. It’s mainly due to themes (violence, killing, female sterilization, manipulation...) + some mild (I think) smut (talks of and general blowjob, slight thigh riding, general talks of sex, initiation of public sex, general heavy flirting and greater slow burn that before I’m so sorry @kind-wolf haha). If I didn’t list something that triggered you, feel free to let me know so that I can correct the mistake.

✏️ Word-count: 10,466 (wow)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN IF YOU WANT ME TO WRITE FOR YOU 💛

📚 This is the second part to The Mantis (you can find the link to my Masterlist in my bio. Unfortunately Tumblr hides my posts if they have links)

📚  Translations: Shokoladny soldat = Chocolate Soldier | Izvestnyj Bogomol? = The famous Mantis? | Drug? = Friend? | Muzh = Husband + ЧРВД stands for (in my fic obv) “Чёрная вдова” (Black Widow)

HAWKEYE 

A month had passed since Tony Stark’s charity event and Larisa had seen Clint more than she ever had in the previous ten years. It was a great step forward, but also ten steps back as her mind kept on wandering back to his mouth on her, lips latched around her clit as he fingered her slowly.

Nasha often joked about it, but what Nasha didn’t know was how Clint’s burning tongue had felt on her, nor how often or how ardently she had imagined him kneeling between her legs with his face buried against her.

Even now, as she stared at his back from the other end of the recruits’ training room in the main SHIELD facility, she could barely focus on something that was not the aching between her legs. It didn’t matter that her muscles were sore from the intensity of the workout she had had with Nasha, nor that sweat was dripping down her spine, spreading the uncomfortable sensation of sweaty clothes throughout her whole body, for her eyes had zeroed in on his back and on the muscles covered by the fitting tank top he was wearing. The way they flexed and relaxed as he paced in front of the recruits was probably the most tantalizing view she had seen in forever.

Before she could stop it, a low moan tore from her throat. It was sudden and unexpected and all she could do was slap a hand over her mouth.

The incriminatory sound hadn’t been loud enough for everyone to hear, but Natasha was sitting right beside her and she had heard. The smirk that blossomed on her face was proof enough that Lara hadn’t been as subtle as she had hoped.

“You know?” Natasha hummed, leaning her chin on Lara’s shoulder. “It’s entertainingly sweet, the crush you have on Clint. It truly burns your whole KGB-agent façade to dust.” She chuckled in her friend’s ear and then kissed her cheek.

“Fuck off, Nasha.” The tone of Lara’s voice pretended irritation, but both girls knew that was a game, the same game they had been playing ever since they had met at the Academy.

Natasha let out a low laughter and suddenly, her body wasn’t leaning against hers anymore. When Lara turned her head to the side, she saw the woman leaning back on her elbows as she stretched her legs forward, crossing one ankle above the other.

“Hush, Goncharova,” she smirked. “Is this how you thank your friend for hooking you up with her partner?”

“‘Hook up’,” Lara huffed, imitating her friend’s voice unsurprisingly well. “You still decided to walk in on him giving me head as the stubborn cockblock you are.”

Natasha’s smirk was one that denoted deep knowledge of her fellow spy’s antics–of how she worked, how she teased, of the games she used to play when her targets let their guard down. She had witnessed Lara’s charm bring men and women alike to their knees before she stroke the last hit, and she had found herself in that situation, too, once, although it hadn’t been as deadly. “I know you were going to stop there and you know it, too. You’ve always enjoyed playing with them until they begged, haven’t you? And for how often you could get off with Barton’s name on your lips, you still want to push this decade-old tension to its limits now that you’ve been given the chance, just to see how it goes.”

Larisa shook her head and after a moment’s indecision, she returned her attention to the two Avengers lecturing the rookies. Rogers was talking, delivering what she was sure was Fury’s speech–or verbose list of rules and prohibitions, the same they had uselessly tried to subject her to–, and she cocked her head to the side when her gaze drifted down to his ass, unabashedly outlined by the stealth of his suit, something Barton had decided to leave inside his closet.

Captain America was magnificently big: tall as a trunk, with large shoulders, narrow hips, thick thighs–probably even sturdier ego, she thought with a giggle. But even from the seven-meter distance, she could see the veins in Hawkeye’s arms and she was… lost. It was like being a teenager back in the Red Room, on the rare occasions where they forced her and the other girls to spar against male KGB agents to polish and refine their training. God, how many nights Natasha had spent with her in the darkness of their dorm, gushing and giggling because they weren’t used to all that testosterone, to all those male bodies they couldn’t have…

“Yeah, you’re right,” she eventually admitted as she looked up until she was focusing on the side of the very face that plagued her lonely nights. She wasn’t one to let herself go to such desires: she had been brought up a spy, a killer, an instrument of manipulation, and she knew better than that. She knew better than to let someone into her mind and underneath her skin because she knew all too well what that brought to–she had been, in fact, delivering that same treatment to her targets ever since day one and just because SHIELD now owned her ass, it didn’t mean that she was going to change the very core of her strategy. “I’m going to push him to his limits.”

There was a mischievous grin on her face when she turned her head to look at her friend and she wasn’t surprised to see it mirrored on Nasha’s lips. They knew each other like the back of their very own hand, knew all the details in the other’s body and soul like they knew those of their favorite weapon, and it was no surprise to them to see that, even after all those years, they were still on the same page.

“Was his mouth game that good?” Natasha wanted to know, pushing herself back up from the floor to sit up straight next to her.

Lara let out a low, dreamy hum as her eyes drifted closed and her chin tilted upwards. “Remember when I told you that you were an eight?”

“Lamest bluff of your life, I guess.”

She chuckled. “Well, Agent Barton is a nine.”

Natasha gasped, but Lara was too engrossed in her own memories to even care.

*

His touch was starved as he pushed her into a bathroom and his insistence prevented her from looking around and check if the place was indeed as empty as they were hoping it to be. Lara wasn’t complaining, not when he was kissing her like that, almost as if he wanted to make her forget her very name.

Not that he wasn’t succeeding, be it clear. It didn’t happen often, for she never let anyone kiss her like that. And the fact that no one had ever been that passionate with her out of their own free will made it all a thousand times better.

It was like being back in Chișinău all over again when he had almost brought her to her knees with his lips and tongue on her body. She felt him pressing himself against her, his fingers bruising on her thigh, the one exposed by the slit in the silk of her dress, as he seemed to want to squeeze it to the bone. She felt his breath against her skin as the kiss deepened to a clash of lips and teeth, both too desperate to slow it down–or to take it slow altogether.

He grunted when her hands sneaked their way around his neck and then up into his hair. She tugged on it, lightly scratching his scalp as she did so, and suddenly they were staring into each other’s eyes, breaths mingling and lips still touching and the sight of his clouded eyes with their pupils blown wide made her moan. The sound seemed to tear its way out of her very soul as she tugged on his hair once again and it got mirrored by Clint’s second grunt as he took her lower lip between his teeth and pulled on it in the most gentle of ways.

He drove her silly. He had been plaguing her memories for so long–so long–that it all felt surreal now. His bruising lips, his selfish hands, that hard-on of his she felt against her belly as he pushed himself against her… It felt all like a dream, as cliché as that could sound. She had never been given the privilege of having lovers, and she had denied herself of that chance even after the rules she had grown up with had ceased to exist. She could have had anyone she wanted and she could have had it without manipulation. She had never acted on it, though, she had never given herself the chance to be something more than the hound she was. And to be in the situation where that eventuality could materialize a body of its own, even just for one night, was far more than her affection-starved and love-deprived brain could endure.

“Tell me to stop,” Clint muttered next to her ear as he smothered the skin of her cheek in wet and sloppy kisses. He was panting against her and the harshness of his breathing turned deeper when his hands finally slipped underneath her dress.

Lara chuckled: it was almost like they were reliving that Moldovan night all over again, acting the improvised script they had played that time once more. It felt almost cozy, it gave her a sense of safety she hadn’t known she’d needed now that this man could play with her bare vulnerability as he pleased.

She wasn’t going to let him stop, though, not now that he had finally acted on his instincts and desires after having spent the whole night staring at her flirting with his friend. “Please, no,” she breathed back, turning her head to the side to catch his lips for another kiss.

*

Clint saw the change in Larisa’s eyes more quickly than he would have had Natasha not taught him how to read that woman. He saw the smile on her face fade into her usual inexpressive façade and the tension return to her shoulders as she straightened her back as she snapped out of her reverie.

He smirked at her when their gazes met and he was both pleased and surprised to see her answer back with the same expression.

“She’s a level one,” the insolent rookie he had felt like punching in the face ever since the introductive meeting with Maria Hill that morning repeated. “She should be training with us.”

No one spoke and in the silence of the room, he stared as Lara stood up, followed closely by Natasha, who was more than ready to catch her friend if she decided she truly did not want to stand such an idiot and was pleased to see her walk towards his group. She had an almost catlike stroll in her step and she made sure to take her sweet time to reach the center of the training room just so that everyone could see and feel the strength her whole demeanor revealed.

“What’s your name?” she asked and Clint couldn’t help himself but smirk at the thought of what could happen.

The blonde newbie, twice the size of agent Goncharova, took a step back, but did his best to keep the impassible expression on his face and, in his stupidity, he should have been recognized such guts. “Agent Jethro Freeman.”

“He calls himself ‘agent’,” Larisa snickered, head turning slightly to the side to glance at Nat. She stretched her neck to the side before opening her chest a little more to intensify the stretch. “I remember how our insolence got punished, do you?”

Natasha nodded and grinned at Clint, almost as if she wanted to tell him to trust her and her friend on this one and not to intervene. “Sight, hearing and movement deprivation.”

Goncharova’s smile seemed to mirror a past memory as she heaved a long breath. “It gets scary, after a while. At first, it’s fun, it’s something new, and you don’t have to hear all the girls you live with. But after a while…” She shrugged her shoulders, gaze wandering around the room. Her legs had opened a little wider, almost as though she was readying herself to lunge forward, and the longer he stared at her, the more Clint felt the unbearable need to touch her. “Your own heartbeat drives you crazy.”

“‘No acts of intimidation towards fellow agents’,” Freeman stated. “It’s in the regulations.”

“You see, this is the difference between a nobody like you and a global threat like me.” Larisa took a step forward and stopped right before the rookie. “People like me are going to kill people like you because you simply do not know how to keep your mouth shut. I’m a level-one agent simply because Fury fears me too much to give me access to SHIELD’s databases and intel, not because I’m a washout like you. I could defeat you with my eyes closed and my ears stuffed because, unlike you, I am an agent, and more than that, I’m someone who knows how to do her job.”

They all saw and heard Jethro Freeman swallow, and the sound he made as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down was almost louder than it normally would have been in the silence of the training room.

“You’re here to learn and to train,” she went on and Clint saw Natasha move a hand on Lara’s shoulder to keep her grounded. Unlike what he had expected, that sudden touch didn’t startle Larisa Goncharova and he wondered whether she truly had the ability to be aware of anything surrounding her or if she simply expected such a gesture from her friend. “And I am surely not here to kill you and risk having our annoying director up my ass. You want to train with me? Come back when you learn how to think with your brain and not your prick.”

She never lost her cool. Even when the rookie’s insolence forced her to her feet, she never lost her unreadable expression. Not even Clint had mastered that ability so well and it was something that went beyond even Nat’s stoic façade. It made him want her more and he wondered who was more stupid: he or the rookie that had thought he could challenge someone like the Mantis.

“But since you seem like you want to see how a real enemy agent fights, I guess I’ll give you a demo. I usually don’t do this because…” She sighed and lowered her shoulder until Natasha got the message and removed her hand. “Well, because I tend to kill insolence, but today’s your lucky day.” She then turned toward Steve, throwing a grin at Clint as her gaze wandered to find the new object of her attention. “Is that alright with you, Captain?” She stressed the word as if to tease him and took a step in their direction.

Steve nodded in agreement, taking a step back and showing her the sparring mat with the movement of his arm. “You choose who you want to face.”

Walking past him and Clint, the grin on her face stretched wider as she gracefully moved to stand on the ring defined by the thin, black mat positioned in the center of the room. The sprint in her step was now lighter, Clint noticed, and the muscles in her back, whose movements he could see through her sweaty tank top, had lost any trace of tension. She was in her element and everyone in their right mind would have noticed that. And they would have stopped. She was the beast preparing for the upcoming attack and she seemed to savor the moment as the adrenaline intoxicatingly ran through her veins.

“Don’t take it personally, Nasha,” she hummed when she found a spot she liked on the mat and turned to face the group of both recruits and Avengers. “I’m not picking you since we’ve spent the afternoon throwing punches at each other. You know, I know your moves and you know mine, so it gets boring after a while.”

Nat chuckled. “I was thinking of going out to have fun anyway,” she winked, following her friend’s script.

“And I’m not going to risk and hurt our golden Steve since I sort of have an unspoken agreement with his bionic pal and I would hate to fight him again, since he knows how to be a pain in the ass,” Lara went on. They all frowned at those words, for neither Clint nor Steve had known Bucky and Larisa shared some kind of past. Probably Nat knew, but considering the light crack in the imperturbability of her face, Clint doubted it to be the case. “So I guess I’m picking a fight with Hawkeye.”

Right then, when her eyes met his, Clint knew it was all a game. That was her trying to tease him and while she was also giving him the chance to not follow her lead in this wicked dance of hers, he still wanted to see where all of the subtle flirting they had kept up since the end of Tony’s party took them.

“Sounds fair,” he agreed. “Want me to take my shoes off?” She was barefoot, the top of her feet reddened probably during her training session with Nat. Again, it only seemed fair to be on the same level, also seen as this was just a demonstration and not a real fight against a real enemy.

Just as the thought popped up in his mind, he knew, then and there, that she would still kick his ass even in the case where he had the upper hand. And what thrilled him the most was knowing that he would let her do and that he would let her win. It was a sick wish for defeat, the one that prompted a shiver down his spine and straight to his loins, and the second thing he suddenly became aware of, was realizing that she did indeed have him wrapped around her pinkie as Nat had said at that damn party.

Lara shrugged her shoulders and, unfathomed to him, Natasha chuckled. “I don’t know, Clint,” she drawled out, savoring his name on her tongue and winking at him. “I’m used to fighting men naked and I wouldn’t mind doing it now, but I’m not sure this is the time nor the place for such a show.”

He clenched his teeth, for he knew what she was trying to do and he wasn’t sure he wanted her to stop. Eyes fixed on her, he kicked his shoes off and bent to free himself of his socks.

Larisa Goncharova was, according to her classified file, ‘intoxicating’. She knew the shortcuts to people’s weaknesses, she knew how to play them, how to wiggle her way straight to the center of their minds. There was nothing she didn’t use to reach her target and her body was perfect for her strategy. Whether she had based it around herself or shaped her whole being to become the deadly weapon it was, Clint didn’t know and he probably didn’t even care.

She was intoxicating and it felt like that was the only thing that mattered in the whole world. The playfulness in her stance, the half-grin on her face, the sparkling amusement in her eyes, her every curve put on display by the form-fitting clothes she wore that day… It was all playing against him and he knew it. He knew it and he let her play her game. Was it reckless of him? Most likely. But a look at her and he was lost.

He met her in the center of the mat and forced himself into a defensive stance, guard up high to protect his face from the blows he knew she’d deliver–just like Hungary all over again. “Ladies first,” he said with a chuckle.

Her laughter was unexpected as she moved. She seemed to dance on the mat, her weight in the balls of her feet as she moved to guard herself. It was like a match between a heavyweight and a lightweight–and not in the strict sense of the term. His technique was what was heavy, while she looked like a ballerina on stage, weight light and movements delicate. A butterfly against a boar. “It’s always nice to know I still fool men into believing I am a lady.”

Clint got almost distracted by her amused sigh, by her head turning to the side to shoot Natasha a grin. It was only thanks to a last-second sensation that he managed to block her hook and he met her punch with a grunt, but was too slow at reacting and her hand slipped from his grasp like water.

She moved on the mattress, still light and swift, movements carefree and calculated at the same time. The mere sight of her dancing around him like that stirred something inside him and he knew, on the spot, that he was fucked.

Another chuckle ringed in his ears and only then did he avert his gaze from the movement of her bare feet and met hers. “You gonna attack, agent?” She grinned, lips teasing and pearly teeth threatening. “Or you gonna let a lady do all the hard work?”

Clint lunged forward for a reverse, but his movement was too thoughtless and she saw it coming even before he jumped into action. She dodged his fist and performed half a pirouette to move away from him, grin always stretching her lips.

He couldn’t explain himself how she could still be this reactive after the hard fight he had seen her put up with Nat just before the rookies entered the training room. It made him wonder whether she was human and if she was, in what percentage. Even the blind could see her unfaltering speed, her steady strength. She could go on like that forever and everybody around them was aware of it.

Evening out his breath, Clint tried to do what Nat had started to explain him at that infamous party: study Larisa’s stance, the look in her eyes, the smile on her face to foresee her next move. And while Natasha had managed to do just that in Hungary, he failed. Pivoting on his heel, he went for another hook, one that only managed to brush against strands of hair that had escaped Lara’s hairdo.

She seemed to dance around his body, so close he could almost feel her heat. “Faster, Clint,” she whispered, so low only he could hear. She slapped the back of his head and he turned around, but she wasn’t there anymore. “This is my favorite kind of foreplay,” she murmured again, lips brushing against the shell of his ear before she ducked under his blow.

Whether he had been quicker this time or she - slower, Clint didn’t know and part of him fooled himself into thinking he was gaining the upper hand when it was, in fact, just part of her game.

Then, right when he least expected it, she swung her leg into a roundhouse kick and he only caught her ankle in his hand at the last moment, her foot a breath away from kicking his side. She grinned and let him straighten her leg before he took a quick step forward, yanking her in his direction as he came to a stop chest-to-chest. She surprised him by hooking her leg around his waist then and more than a rookie whistled.

Lara leaned forward and her lips grazed his cheek. “Just like on that plane, eh?” Her nose nuzzled the skin behind his ear and Clint had to stop his hips from bucking forward. “I can feel you against me and I am soaking wet.”

*

After much begging and grunting on their part, Fury had eventually consented to fly out a small private plane to fetch agents Barton and Romanoff and their prisoner in Budapest. And if SHIELD director’s reticence in giving him and his partner just that one comfort hadn’t soured Clint’s mood enough, the playful banter that had been going on for two days straight between Natasha and Larisa Goncharova had proved to be just the cherry on top of that fatigue-tasting cake.

Sprawled out on one of the luscious leather seats as the plane flew over Europe, Clint Barton could feel every single bruise marking his skin and his muscles scream in sore agony. And while it had been far easier to handcuff her than he would have ever thought possible, the hand-to-hand combat against the Mantis had exceeded even his wildest thoughts.

“You should move to the other seat,” Larisa said suddenly and his eyes flew open with the same speed of a snail. He was tired–and even more than that, he was physically and mentally exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep, much like Nat was doing, curled up like a cat on one of the front armchairs. “Stretch out just right.”

“I’m just fine right where I am,” he groaned, turning his head to stare outside the window as they cruised over Austria.

From the corner of his eye–for he was not going to lose sight of her–he saw her smirk. “Do as you please, then, Clint. I was just suggesting you take some well-deserved rest after I kicked your ass.”

“You’re a prisoner, you should keep your mouth shut.” Shut around his dick, he thought, and he shifted in his seat. He was not going back to Moldova all over again. All he had to do was deliver her to Fury and get her out of his system like the poison she was.

Just then, her foot teased his ankle before moving up and down his shin. He shifted again, moving his leg back and slightly more out of her reach, despite not being able to do so completely given the cramped space between them. “Oh, I’m just fine where I am,” she mocked him, moaning lowly as she made herself more comfortable against the back of the seat. “Are you sure I am the prisoner, anyway?”

The smirk on her lips made him snap. “Keep your mouth shut.”

She moaned again and her eyelids seemed to grow heavier as she lowered them enough to tease him with her gaze. “I love it when they’re bossy.” She said so in Russian and it made him gulp, for he indeed spoke that language. “I wanted to thank you for Chișinău,” she started again after endless minutes of silence, just when Clint had started to feel himself doze off to sleep. “Truly rid me of any trace of fatigue.”

He groaned: the bump on the back of his head still throbbed insistently at times, even if the uncomfortable feeling had positively diminished over the past two weeks. “Glad I could be of help.”

He had just closed his eyes when he felt her move and when he reopened them again to stare at her, she was sitting closer to the edge of her seat, her knees lazily settled between his wide thighs.

“You just have to say it,” she murmured, handcuffed hands moving to his thighs and slowly sliding closer to his crotch. “And I’ll do it.”

Clint was suddenly and completely awake, then, no trace of tiredness in his mind or his limbs. He felt himself stir in his pants but still did his best to ignore the feeling. “I’ve already said it: shut your mouth.”

It was impossible to wipe that smartass smile from her lips and he had to resign himself to that realization. He should change his game, he thought, change his behavior toward her: stop paying attention to her tricks, stop letting her play with his mind and his body.

She asked him to use the restroom, then, voice polite and sickeningly sweet, almost as though she wanted to make fun of him. Clint looked her up and down, trying to convince himself of how bad an idea that was, and sighed. He stood up and pulled her to her feet by grabbing the chain between the handcuffs she wore.

“Such a gentleman,” she whispered in his ear as she walked past him, brushing against the side of his body.

He scoffed and stopped just before the door of the toilet. There was no way he was going to resist until their arrival in New York. He was either going to fuck her senseless or kill her, and he wasn’t so sure the second option was that bad.

Before he had the time to answer Larisa’s call, the sliding door opened again and she stared at him. “These nice bracelets need to go, I’m having problems with my pants.”

He grunted, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. His weight shifted to rest on one leg as his hip slightly pressed to the side. “You need a hand?”

“I wouldn’t mind one,” she smirked. She was eyeing him just as she knew every little thing going on in his mind and Clint couldn’t stand it.

Then, before he could react, she pulled him into the cramped space of the toilet and they ended up being pressed into each other. One of his legs ended up pushing between hers and she smiled a knowing grin when his uncomfortable erection made itself known against her thigh.

“Nice gear I feel against my leg,” she drawled into his ear as she pressed herself against his side. “I’m starting to think you need to use the restroom more than I.” Her lips skimmed along the line of his jaw and all he managed to force himself to do was clench his teeth, her tied hands taking a hold of his side–one on the side of his chest and the other on his back.

“You should hurry up,” he swallowed, hands unwillingly moving to her hips to keep her in place.

He knew better than this. Why he always acted like a horny teen with her was truly beyond him, but still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop.

She ground against his thigh then and against any kind of training he ever received, he inhaled sharply, eyes drifting closed. All he could feel was her–her hot core against his clad leg, his arm pressing into the valley of her breasts, her warm breath against the skin of his face and neck as she lazily kissed his jaw and the sensitive skin under his ear. Then, unexpectedly, she whimpered and he felt himself come just as unexpectedly in his pants.

“So good,” she hummed against his cheek, kissing it lightly before she pushed him out of the toilet. “Now give me a moment.”

It took him a couple of minutes to realize she had stolen the keys to her handcuffs right out of the back pocket of his pants.

*

The next encounter Larisa had with Clint happened a week after the events in the training room.

In nothing but panties and a satin nightgown, she sat in front of the jet-black grand piano in the middle of her sunny penthouse living room and she was trying to ease the discomfort of her past on the notes of Nero’s Nocturne. Ever since she was a kid, gentle music had always helped to soothe the harsh angles of her memories or of her days. Fighting against the blaring metal music blasting from the television, she was forcing the piano notes to war against the loud cries of the Red Room, mitigating the thirst for Todorovsky’s blood that had plagued both waking and sleeping hours in the last few days.

Auditory overload. It was something they had subjected her and the other girls to at the Academy with the goal to sharpen their focus skills: when their heartbeat became the loudest sound in the training room, they could leave. She had mastered it. She had been forced to if she wanted to survive.

Despite her training being over–and it had been over for ages now–, she still submitted herself to that technique, for it was the only thing that helped her mind find its peace.

It had never been that hard to push the music of her piano to overcome that of the television, though, and the reason had a name: Hawkeye. He distracted her from her target, he dulled the precision of her aim, and the thoughts of him inevitably brought her mind back to the only scar on her body and hence, to Todorovsky.

No man had ever been the cause of such faltering in her self-control, and it was both enticing and frightening. She had managed to live without such a distraction her whole life, and this was why she had managed to take down her targets the way she had. But it was almost ten years now from her first encounter with Clint Barton and he had managed to become her weakness. Whether she showed it or not, it didn’t matter, for the terror the idea of falling in love with–or worse, of having already fallen for–him was what kept her on edge day in and day out.

The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he smirked, fought, drew his bow, looked at her… It all felt calculated: it was almost as though he knew what she liked and exploited his knowledge to mold himself and attract her into his trap.

She grunted, fists smashing on the keys on the piano, causing a nightmarish cry to win against the deafening music coming from the switched-on television. She punched the keyboard again, biting her tongue to keep that scream from tearing her whole being apart, as all her muscles tensed and her body leaned forward.

Three things happened almost at once, then: a foreign sound from behind caught her ear; her hand closed itself around the grip of the gun sat on the flat surface of the piano; the TV switched off.

Lara turned around in her seat, gun aiming in the general direction of the sound she had heard, a finger automatically taking the safety off and the other moving over the trigger. She smirked, though, when she saw Tony Stark staring at her, TV remote still in his hand.

“You should be thankful I go by the rule of ‘ask first, shoot later’ in my own house,” she said, standing up and putting the safety of the gun back on. She stuck the weapon into the elastic band of her panties and closed the piano. “I don’t take trespassing lightly, though, I’m afraid.”

“He’s with us,” came Natasha’s voice. “Clint and me,” she continued when Lara cocked an eyebrow.

She caught Clint’s eye then and the look he gave her would have made her shudder hadn’t she been who she was. She allowed herself to blatantly stare at him anyway, though. He was wearing his stealth suit, just like Nat, and she found herself almost moaning at the thought of him tearing her nightgown apart dressed in Hawkeye’s typical attire.

And she knew he was staring, too. His gaze swiped down the length of her legs and then back up, to the thin material of the nightgown swooshing in the afternoon breeze that came in through the open windows. She could feel her nipples bead both in the chilly air and under his burning gaze, and he swallowed–slow, and hard, and almost painfully.

Just then, Iron Man cleared his throat. “If you’re done eye-fucking each other…”

“I could I fuck you, too, if only I wanted,” she grinned, walking past him to close the French windows that opened onto the huge terrace she had bought that penthouse for. “Shokoladny soldat is turning me into a nun,” she chuckled.

“Fury?” Nasha asked with a chuckle just to then open up into a real laughter when Lara nodded. “You’re nuts.”

“We don’t have the whole day.”

“What’s burning under your ass?” Lara asked, frowning at Stark, who had the audacity to start and act as lord and master of her place.

“We got a mission we should be leaving for.”

She shrugged and took the gun from her hip to rest it on the glass surface of the coffee table. “You need me to hold your hand and tell you it’s all going to be fine? What, mommy didn’t reassure you enough? I might be into roleplay, but this…” She chuckled. “Not gonna work.”

“I truly don’t see why you had to push Fury to make us bring her along,” he said then, head turning towards Natasha.

Disbelief and confusion flashed across her features, but Clint was the only one to see her ever changing expression. She didn’t notice it, though, engrossed as she was in questioning Nasha with her gaze.

“We’re going to Italy. Stop-an-auction-and-catch-the-bad-guy kind of mission,” she explained, eyeing the gun her friend had discarded a few minutes before. “Got a guy I’m sure you remember, that’s why I not-so-gently asked for you to be assigned on a real undercover mission.”

“Who’s the man?”

A smirk. Pure, unadulterated cruelty flashed in Natasha’s eyes. “Todorovsky.”

*

Waking up felt like drowning.

Head heavy, lungs burning, body weightless and massive at the same time.

Sounds and breaths and heartbeats mingled together into a cacophony that pushed her into a downward spiral of throbbing agony.

Waking up felt like being electrocuted with thorough pain. The pulsing ache spread through her every muscle and bone like a maddening poison, forcing her body to tense like a bowstring, toes curling, nails biting into the flesh of her palms.

It took Larisa hours to swim her way back up to the surface, to remember how she had ended up in that cold and uncomfortable bed, to understand why her body felt like shutting down against the onslaught of excruciating pain.

They had collected her from her dorm in the middle of the night–which night, she truly didn’t know, she couldn’t remember it, not now that her brain’s fight against the throbbing feeling made her stiff. She had been transported to an unknown location and handed into the hands of men she had never seen.

Graduation was a word she had often dreamed of. An essential rite of passage in the hierarchy of the Red Room’s student corpus. Natasha had gone through it not long before she did and ever since that day, they had moved her out of the Academy, sent her into the real world. Larisa had only dreamed of going through the same ceremony, whose trials were guarded with the same intensity of a state secret.

First had come hand-to-hand combat. Twelve men she had to take down, one after the other. She had endured blow after blow and she had fought back with the same intensity, polishing her technique with every opponent she knocked out. Moving around gracefully and swiftly, she had poured ballet into her combat strategy and had managed to pass the first test.

Auditory overload had come second. Closed in a dimly lit room, the KGB deafened her with howling dogs, with crying children, honking cars, shooting machine guns. And under all that confused noise, a subtle voice that repeated the same four words over and over again in a murmured litany she had to do her best to pick up. Верность Партии – Верность Родине – Loyalty to the party, loyalty to the motherland. Sixteen minutes, forty-two seconds, seventeen milliseconds – the second-best time of the agency, just after the man that went under the name of Зимний солдат. No one ever told her so, though, not even the Winter Soldier when she eventually met him, for no initiate got to know their time.

The third test was what the Academy called ‘partial sensory deprivation’. Hearing, sight and movement had to go for a specific amount of time. It was something she had mastered in her years of training, for she didn’t take well submission, nor dictatorship, not to talk about regulations. She had found herself in the sensory-deprivation room more times than she could recall and what had to be a punishment had slowly turned into one of the arts she was better at. She had learned how to slow down the rhythm of her heart, how to even out her breathing when her whole body started to tingle with the need to move and see and hear and scream. Despite her mind always being vigilant, she knew how to relax under the constraints of the trial.

She got out of the room with a smile on her face.

Much easier was the fourth examination, for it involved the angency’s standard batch of foreign languages–English, German, Italian, French, Romanian, Arabic. She had mastered them, like everyone at the Academy, even though at varying degrees. The low intensity of the test was just the rest before the last part of the initiation, but it still prolonged the varying intensity of the whole ordeal to test candidates’ stress endurance. More important than what all the tests examined was, in fact, the person’s ability to withstand lack of sleep, constant forced concentration, and overall mental and physical resistance.

Therefore, all languages were tested thoroughly. Casual and formal conversations were tested almost at once, and Lara was forced to shift from one registry to the other and from one language to the other without warning.

She thought she had it. She could taste her success on the tip of her tongue, she could feel it pouring ecstatic excitement into every fiber of her being.

The fifth trial was killing. And more than that, it was torture. And if candidates could do it on loved ones, they would never have problems doing it on strangers. Lara’s examination had to be performed on her mother. What she did to her then would plague her sleep from months to come and she would only find freedom and comfort in the discovery of her mother’s secret: the billion roubles she had been paid with as a thank-you note for selling her daughter.

It all came back slowly to Lara. And the more she squeezed her eyes to put the ceiling of the room she was in back into focus, the more details popped up in her memory.

The kick she had received in her back.

The blood she had tasted in her mouth when one of the agents she fought with slapped her cheek hard.

The congratulations of the KGB examiner upon her passing initiation.

And then, a phantom-like face among all those memories: Todorovsky, the surgeon in charge of sterilization.

*

The five-star hotel bedroom was amazing, the view on Lake Como was even more. Water, mountains, trees–it made the idea of embarking on this mission a little more bearable. What he enjoyed the most, though, was the place’s tranquillity. Up there, in that hotel that gave on the lake, Clint almost felt himself at home.

“We should get some sleep,” Lara’s voice pulled him out of his contemplation as he leaned against the balustrade of the balcony. “It’s probably going to be a long night.”

“I’ll take the couch.” There was no way both in heaven and hell he’d lie down beside someone like her. She was already in his mind and underneath his skin, he truly didn’t need her that close.

“Don’t be stupid.” She scoffed, taking off her shoes by pulling on them with her feet before undressing until she stood there in matching white bra and panties. “If we have to play this cliché part of husband and wife, you might as well get used to sleeping next to me.” She smirked then, plopping down onto the four-poster bed and sighing in delight. “I wouldn’t mind it if you slept with me, but I’m sure we’ll get there in due time.”

While the general plan had been Steve’s idea, it had been because of her that he found himself in that room. She had excluded partnering up with Steve, for he was almost a celebrity, just as she had said no to Bucky–too risky since Todorovsky and his former KGB and current friends knew about the Winter Soldier. Nat hadn’t even been considered, for everybody knew Black Widow stood with SHIELD, unlike Larisa, who had done anything in her power to keep the status of her affiliations on ‘unknown’.

Instead, she had personally chosen him. There are only three people I trust on this jet, she had said as they were landing. One is yours truly, the second is Nasha, and the third is Clint Barton. And since she’s not a possible option, I’m going with dear Hawkeye.

“We should talk about the mission, instead,” he pointed out, re-entering the room and closing the French window behind his back. He considered laying down on the bed–for a moment, he truly considered such an option. He was tired from the flight, he had a mild headache and a more than mild need to sleep with her as she had not-so-blatantly proposed. Ever since their fighting demonstration, things had gone to shit: she was always–always–among his thoughts and he felt like he’d never be able to get her out if he didn’t act on his impulses.

She hummed and he stared as she took a deep breath, her eyes closed, ankles crossed and hands on her tummy. “What is there to talk about? Steve,” and she stressed his friend’s name, “already went over the plan so many times that now I almost think I’m truly married to you.”

He swallowed and it was then that he realized the thin layer of cold sweat covering the palms of his hands. “We should go over the details,” he retorted. Like when we got married, how long we have known each other, where we met, how we met, who I am. How you like sex. “To make it more credible.”

Lara sighed and she opened her eyes to stare at him. “First of all, you’re playing my husband, so stop avoiding my tits. Nasha gave me a pretty revealing dress and I–we–can’t afford you being a prude with your wife.”

He considered biting back, but instead thought that playing her game could benefit everything–the mission and whatever it was that still lingered between them. He let his eyes gaze down from her face and focused on the lace of her bra. He could see her nipples.

“Second of all,” she went on with a smirk on her lips when she saw what the focus of his attention was, “just follow my lead. I know Todorovsky and the majority of his guests. Plus I’ve already been in this particular villa, so I know my way around.”

“Why didn’t you-”

“Reveal my secrets?” She chuckled. “I told you. I only trust two people apart from me: Nasha and you. I might work for Fury and now for your Scooby-gang of superheroes, but I’m not risking compromising my mission.” She stood up on her knees then and crawled over to where he was standing at the foot of the bed. Her fingers hooked in the belt holes of his jeans, into which he had changed before exiting the quinjet, and she tugged on them. “Nor my chances of getting laid by you.”

It was astonishing, the way she let known the fact that she wanted him. It surely was part of her usual strategy, but good Lord, the things it did to him! He was always there, thinking he was finally a step ahead of her, and the second after he found himself on his ass as she opened that sinning mouth of hers. It wasn’t like he didn’t want that, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to take her on that damn bed, rather, it was the way she said she wanted it and the way his body and his mind reacted to her words. His mind went blank and all blood seemed to rush to his loins.

“Do I make you wet?” he decided to tease.

He truly didn’t think it would fire back. He probably should have expected it, but the truth was, he didn’t. Her hand trailed down her body and it disappeared into her panties. His lungs seemed like they had been caught in a grip as he stared into her eyes.

“Oh, yes, indeed,” she confirmed after a couple of seconds, hand still teasingly moving inside her lingerie. It was then that he noticed the faint, horizontal scar just above the hem of her panties. “Look, I’ll tell you the basics,” she continued then, returning serious, “but we will be together the whole night. You have nothing to worry about that’s not pretending you love me like more than some head you’ve given in a bathroom.”

With a sigh, he resigned to her will. And three hours later, when it was too late to pull back and find someone that could replace him, he found himself staring at the glimmering lights of Bellagio reflecting on the placid waters of the lake.

He was doing anything in his power not to think of the glimmery golden dress Lara was wearing and even less of the fact that she didn’t wear a bra. He was all in for the lovebirds-undercover kind of plan, but he wasn’t sure that was a good idea with the past–and present–he already shared with her.

“You got your earpiece in?” He sensed her behind him even before she spoke, breath warm behind his ear as she pressed a light kiss to the side of his neck.

“Sure.”

He felt her take it out from his ear, then, before she chirped a ‘sorry, guys, end of transmissions’ and let it fall to the ground. He didn’t manage to stop her in time: her golden jewel sandal had already stepped onto it, crushing it. “What?” she shrugged when he glared at her. “We can’t risk anything. Moreover,” she added, taking his hand in hers and guiding him toward the entrance of the villa, “it’s a two-night event. Todorovsky will join his guests on the last night and on the last night only.”

They got quiet when they came too close to the entrance and the gorillas that guarded it. Smiles on their faces, they stopped right before them and Lara handed them their invitation.

“Bogomol,” one of the two men muttered, reading the invitation again and then gazing up at Lara. “Izvestnyj bogomol?”

Clint saw her roll her eyes before her fingers came up to her mouth. She pulled on the lower lip, showed the БГМЛ she had tattooed there and flashed a grin when excitement bubbled up on the two men’s faces.

Then they pointed at Clint. “Drug?” they smirked, eyes evil.

“Muzh,” she retorted, turning to press a kiss on Clint’s cheek.

They let them pass, and Lara guided him across a crowd of seemingly wealthy people and to the open bar. “Two vodkas,” she ordered in Russian and then turned to him. “I also chose you because your Russian is sexy,” she smiled. It was a half-code for ‘you’re the only one besides Nasha that I trust when it comes to Russian,’ something she used to elude the curious stares of the people leaning around the bar.

“Glad you chose your husband based on his knowledge of languages,” he smirked, taking the shots the barista left near them and handing one to Lara. “You’re stunning tonight,” and she truly was. Dressed to the feet in gold, with a neckline that ended right in the middle of the valley of her breasts, she looked like a goddess.

She downed her vodka and he mirrored her and once he was done, she took his glass and put it down onto the bar with hers. She closed the distance between them, then, and her arms circled around his neck. “We should mingle,” she breathed against his neck, lips trailing along his skin and the underside of his jaw, voice low so that nobody would hear. “Get to know the buyers, collect the intel your people want…” She looked up at him then and pecked his lips. “Find a bathroom I can use to repay your favor.”

There was no time to answer her, for she was already tugging him back through the crowd. Anywhere around them, Russian could be heard and rich people could be seen.

He had expected for people to stop mid-conversation and stare at the woman walking before him as they recognized her, like the two men at the entrance, but no one did. He asked her once the crowd wasn’t as thick as they made their way deeper into the villa.

“Those people are just a cover,” she shrugged, showing her hidden tattoo to yet another guard, who stared at her in disbelief before letting them through the closed door. “The real party is in the other wing of the house, and only people like me,” and she turned to wink at him, “can pass.”

“With that tattoo?” He asked and she nodded. “What does it mean?”

“БГМЛ,” she spelled. “Bogomol, or Mantis. Todorovsky was the first one to call me that and when the time to get my passe-partout came, I used that name. Everybody knew me as the Mantis, so it only seemed easier.”

“Does Nat have it?”

She nodded, flashing the acronym to yet another guard. They walked in silence for a few meters before she spoke again. “ЧРВД. I’m sure you know what it stands for.”

Ten minutes later they both stood in the heart of the real party. The music was a little louder, but not deafening as the one that had given him a headache in Lara’s apartment. There were fewer people, but the ones present looked richer, their clothes of better manufacture, and the place in general looked like out of a Russian palace–or like Moldova all over again.

He shouldn’t have been as shocked to see naked women dancing around, glittery golden dust making their bodies shimmer under the lights of the chandelier, but he truly hadn’t expected something like that. This whole party looked friskier than he had thought it to be.

“The auction,” he decided to ask, following Lara outside, on the balcony. “What are they selling?”

“Things,” she answered, enigmatic amusement twinkling in her eyes. She pulled him closer then, hugged him to pretend like they were dancing to the slow music. “Relics from Russia’s glorious past, weapons, people…” She nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck, kissed his pulse-point, swiped the flat of her tongue over it.

To anyone watching, it would look like a couple–whatever the roles between the two of them were–taking some liberties in the cool summer air. To Clint, though… He wanted it to be like that–he truly did want it, against his better judgment and his common sense–, and he couldn’t help the shiver of irritation that ran down his spine as his hands rested on her hips and pulled her closer. “People?” he asked.

She nodded. “Fellow girls from the Red Room were sold in these auctions. Some agents choose this outlet as a way to gain more missions or general visibility. Others,” and she sucked the sweet spot just below his jaw, one hand snaking down between their bodies to palm him over the pants of his tuxedo, “are simply sold for their bodies.”

He gasped when she gently squeezed him and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning his head down to kiss down her neck, inhaling her perfume, the same that had driven him nuts at Tony’s party.

“I hear they’re selling one of Rasputin’s nails,” she revealed after a while. “I’d really like to try my luck with it.”

“We’re not here for fun,” he reminded her and he felt her pout against his skin.

She moved back a little, stared up at him, caressed the sides of his face and then those of his neck. “Tonight we are. I told you: your man will only be here tomorrow night. Today, though, is our chance to get to know the guests, identify the buyers so that you–the good guys–can arrest them or do whatever it is that you do-”

“You’re supposed to be one of the good guys, too,” he pointed out, hands crawling up her bare back, awaking goosebumps on her skin.

Lara’s lips stretched in one of those smirks he loved so much. “Key-word: supposed. I’m neither good nor bad, I’m simply neutral. This is why no one questioned my presence her or my sympathies. I’m the wild card that could screw everyone and everything up. Plus, I have ways to keep my life classified, and no one knows anything about what I’m doing in America. And I’ll tell you a secret,” she grinned, lowering her voice even more. “Most of the things in my file-”

“It’s classified,” Clint frowned. She had a level-one pass, she shouldn’t have been able to read it.

“I have my ways,” she answered, tilting her head to the side and pressing a kiss on the corner of his lips. “As I was saying, though, many of the things in my file are not even remotely true. Only Nasha could spill my secrets, but she won’t do it, for I wouldn’t tell hers even if I was tortured.”

He looked down at her, scanned her features in search of any trace of a lie. And he didn’t know why he did that: below that lovely-wife façade, he couldn’t see anything else. But he stared at her and his hands slid down her body to rest on her butt. “Tell me one of your secrets?”

She snorted at that and smothered her hands over his hair to fix what the unexpected wind had tousled. “What will I get in change?”

Clint shrugged, making her twirl around when a guest passed by them. He pulled her toward him, her back against his chest, and ground his hard-on against her ass. “Anything.”

He heard her swallow and waited for an answer as her head fell back against his chest, his arms wrapping more tightly around her. “The thing I have for you,” she whispered. “It’s not a strategy. I think I really do like you. And it scares me because it’s never happened before.”

They both swayed at the rhythm of the music in silence then, both enjoying the physical contact with the other, and the calm lake night. They stared at the guests they could see inside the lit hall, the way they moved around each other, read their lips as they talked in hushed Russian, studied their body language.

It took them a while to snap out of their reverie and it was Lara who broke the silence. “You said I could have anything,” she said, turning around in Clint’s arms and staring up at him. “I told you my secret, so it’s only fair I get what you promised.”

“You want me?” he asked, eyes trailing down to her parted lips. He slightly bent to kiss them, tugging on the lower lip as if to tease her tattoo and for a split second he wondered how much it had hurt to get those four letters marked into the sensitive skin.

“I want you,” she confirmed, fingers playing on the back on his neck.

“You want me now?”

She nodded. “I want you now.”

“What about these people? Weren’t you the one saying we should gather intel from them?”

Her hand snaked between their bodies again, but unlike before, it now slipped down his shirt and straight into his pants. In the constraints of his pants, her hand seemed to press deliciously harder against his erection. “The night is still young, Clint,” she whispered against his cheek, slowly teasing him with her fingers. “And I’ve been wanting you for almost ten years.”

When they met each other’s gaze again, he could only imagine his pupils to be as blown as hers. His breathing was heavier against the skin of her face, his skin felt hotter, his mind dizzier. “Yeah?” he swallowed.

She removed her hand from his pants and moved him so that he had his back to the hall and the French window that led to the terrace that gave onto the rich gardens of the villa. “Yeah,” she hummed, kneeling down before him.

She was fumbling with the button of his pants and the zipper before he had the time to realize what she was up to. And when he caught up, he had to fight against himself and put a hand on hers. “What are you doing?” He could barely focus, breathing slow and hard, as he felt his heartbeat throb in his loins.

“I’m thanking you for the amazing head you gave me at Stark’s charity bullshit,” she grinned up at him, freeing her hand from his grasp and lowering the zipper. “And this time there’s no Natalya Romanova cockblocking us.”

Terrified of the idea of someone seeing them, Clint stood as still as he could, eyes fixed on the woman knelt between his legs. He stared as she took him out of his briefs, as she gently stroke him, as she smirked at the sight of the angry-red tip of his cock.

“On that plane from Hungary,” she started, lips inching closer to him. “The only thing you had to do, was ask.”

Right then, she kissed his head, pressed her lips against his hot skin, and he could only let out a shuddering breath. He should have done that–he thought–, should have asked for what he wanted. He had taken her in Chișinău and he had taken her at Tony’s party, and in neither occasion had he had her as he wanted.

His mind went blank when she wrapped her lips around him, tongue teasing the head, her hand slowly massaging his base. He had to close his eyes when she hummed lowly around him as she took him deeper into her mouth and he steadied himself by putting his hands on her shoulders to avoid bending his knees.

It was slow, but Clint didn’t mind. He had wanted her so badly, all those years spent fantasizing, and now that he finally had her–or as much of her as she was willing to give–he wanted the moment to last, he wanted to savor it, to remember it.

 ***

Part three anyone? hmu

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask. Same goes for ‘Bratva’)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi

Bratva (people not on the lists but that might still be interested): @sweetvengeancee @kind-wolf + a couple of lovely people that showed interest when I asked: @flowers-in-your-hayr@pagan-geek-girl-4-life

#clint barton #clint barton imagine #clint barton smut #clint barton marvel #clint barton x oc #hawkeye imagine #hawkeye smut #hawkeye marvel #hawkeye x oc #angelaiswriting #oc larisa efimovna goncharova #oc larisa goncharova #oc larisa #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel smut

[aly126]

2019 Romanian National Team & Updates by Forminte (including injuries, staff problems and Chernobyl)

I gave up translating interviews lately, mostly because there’s not much to say, and if it is, it raises my pulse and I already have issues with that, but huge shout out to @airforcejuanaurelius​ for showing me Forminte’s latest interview and making my day. Gotta admit I missed the entertainment, because if you ignore the absurdity, he is quite the funny guy and below’s proof.

2019 NT - Denisa Golgota, Maria Holbura, Carmen Ghiciuc, Alexandra Mihai, Nica Ivanus, Laura Iacob, Maria Pana, Iulia Berar, Ana Maria Puiu, Ioana Crisan

(Forminte mentions having 10 seniors on the NT, names 9, says he’s forgetting someone, moves on, 2 minutes later remembers Crisan) 

Golgota will go to Doha and Baku WCs to prepare for Euros. Everyone skipped Jesolo because of the flu which delayed their training. Euros Team will probably be Golgota, Ghiciuc and Iacob, or maybe a miracle will happen with Berar and Puiu and they can get up to date with their training to be able to perform.

Golgota is the only healthy one, Mihai has been out with elbow pain for 2 years - eventually had surgery, Crisan has been struggling for 2 years with a twisted ankle - turns out she will also have surgery (‘to do something to her, I don’t know what, 'cause I’m not a doctor’ - Forminte). Berar and Puiu have been out for 6 months due to ‘common pains’ (‘I’ve never seen such a generation before’ - Forminte).  Later on, he brags about how girls don’t get injured in Deva, apparently all the issues are from before, when they trained at the club.

He names several things contributing to the state of gymnastics, like how gymnasts aren’t as strong as before, you know, due to nutrition and Chernobyl (yes, he actually said that). Also, narrow selection pool, parents being too involved, no choreographer, no doctors on the NT (he has a point with the poor medical staff, though), etc. 

He mentions how, usually, when they have requests to local authorities, they usually get the standard response - ‘there’s no money’, but goes on to say that ‘fortunately, gymnastics can’t complain, as it has everything it needs to function, but we struggle with the staff, such as a choreographer, or a doctor.’ - Idk if he genuinely thinks they can’t find them in all of Romania, because, apparently, it’s not about the money?

The interviewer says he read about Larisa trying to come back and asks Forminte for more info, to which he responds ‘why would you think I'd know more about it?’ Turns out he read from the media that Larisa had the 3rd surgery and is trying to find a solution to train in Bucharest or Izvorani. She didn’t get in touch with him, so he doesn’t know what’s up with that.

Blames others for keep saying that there’s no hope for this generation which makes the girls and their parents lose motivation, totally ‘forgetting’ how he said that himself idk how many times.

#team romania #national team #forminte #larisa iordache #ioana crisa #denisa golgota #maria holbura #carmen ghiciuc #nica ivanus #laura iacov #alexandra mihai #iulia berar #ana maria puiu #maria pana #m

[anamedblog]

On the Road Again

by Ilgın Külekçi, ANAMED PhD Fellow (2018–2019)

The debate on comparing “who knows more, a traveler or a reader,” might be a long-standing cliché, but still pleases everyone who enjoy both. 

Certainly, they complete each other and most of the good stories come out of travels! From the ‘Odyssey’ to the modern times, it has been the core of many books, films and songs. ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ or only turning back home, a journey has always the potential to bring adventure, experience, and knowledge.

As a researcher focusing on antiquity, traveling is—fortunately—one of the methods of learning as well as also a voluntary duty in summer. During my undergraduate studies, the necessary course “Ancient and Byzantine Architecture” included—traditionally—a trip to the western Anatolia which provided the opportunity to explore the ancient cities to us, the students of architecture on their first year.

The short four-day program was efficient to visit Didyma, Priene, Miletus, Aphrodisias, Magnesia, Hierapolis, and Laodikeia. I remember that the incompleteness in everything we see was a disappointment for some of us who were expecting huge temples and gigantic theaters. (By the way they were the most evident remains!) Even if these trips were not the was not “the moment” that I decided to study architectural history, I started to enjoy the empty and sometimes tedious landscapes, which come to life with what I hear or read. My experience may also have been close to a typical satisfaction of any tourist walking after the guides. However, when the surrounding gets wilder one cannot be dependent on someone, then an elaborated observation and wider research becomes necessary before the departure, in order to create its own imaginative game!

The excursions begin with the archival research which allows to re-experience the memories from previous trips and also see the transition or to make comparisons. Apart from our own diaries, the research history is always requisite to be considered. Thus, we get interacted with the paths the other researchers followed and recorded what are already vanished. Especially the travel notes constitute key references in various fields. For the archaeology in Asia Minor the travel books of foreign travelers from the 17th century to 19th century are rich resources. Their objectivity for any detail might be suspicious; however, once entered this world, I also enjoy them as novels. Each has its own “way” to perceive the environment, and thanks to the most unnecessary details they mention, the scene—whether fiction or reality—becomes complete.

Some famous travelers including Richard Chandler, François René de Chateaubriand, Charles Mc Farlane, F. V. J. Arundell, and Charles Texier witnessed the village of Menemen (Izmir) where I make my research on one of its small hamlets, Buruncuk. None of them describes the ancient site Larisa (Buruncuk) that I am working on directly, but while passing there, some mention its name and draw an image within an itinerary. In 1828, C. Mc Farlane tells how they crossed the Hermos River with men and animals in fear; Arundell in 1830 takes the note on their rest in the han in Menemen, complains about the unexpected guests but also makes fun of it: “by this self-invited society, that we arose after a night of misery, and vented our discontent by changing the name of Many-men, in to another more appropriate.” Among them Richard Chandler was a member of the famous Society of Dilettanti, a special “dining club” for a group of young British aristocrats, active in 18th century. In addition to discussing art on dinners, they have organized travels around to explore the ancient Greek art. Therefore, the travel itself becomes a professional work to be carefully completed and of course taken as a serious task. In 1764, R. Chandler with William Pars, a young painter chosen for this travel, and N. Revett, an architect, embarks at Gravesand. The importance of their mission is underlined with the instructions of the society:

“Whereas the Society of Dilettanti have resolved, that a person or persons, properly qualified, be sent with sufficient appointments to some parts of the East, in order to collect informations, and make observations, relative to the ancient state of those countries, and to such monuments of antiquity as are still remaining, (…)” (Chandler 1971, 5). Then six instructions are listed to facilitate their orientation and to explain their duties. The second one describes the expected work on site: “fixing upon Smyrna as your headquarters, you do from thence make excursions to the several remains of antiquity in that neighbourhood, at such different times, and in such manner, as you shall, from the information collected on the spot, judge most safe and convenient, and that you do procure the exactest plans and measures possible of the buildings you shall find, making accurate drawings of the bass-reliefs and ornaments, and taking such views as you shall judge proper; copying all the inscriptions you shall meet with, and remarking every circumstance which can contribute towards giving the best idea of the ancient and present state of those places.” (Chandler 1971, 5-6).

Following further notes and the financial issues, finally in the last instruction the society warns the excursion group not to fight with each other (!):

“(…)that perfect harmony and good understanding, which is so necessary, as well to your own happiness, as to the success of the undertaking, will subsist among you; yet, in order to prevent any possible dispute, which might arise about different measures, in the course of this expedition, we expressly declare, that the direction of the whole is hereby lodged in Mr. Chandler, assisted by Mr. Revett: and though Mr. Revett and Mr. Pars should protest against any measure proposed by Mr. Chandler, it is our meaning, that any such difference of opinion should not in the least interrupt or suspend your operations, but that, at the same time that such persons as dissent from or disapprove of what is proposed, shall transmit to us their reasons for such dissent, they do notwithstanding continue to pursue Mr. Chandler's plan, till they receive our further orders for their conduct” (Chandler 1971, 6-7).

These travel notes are mostly analyzed as part of art movements or orientalism, but they are also good examples for the gravity of the travelling concept itself. Besides a certain discipline, the journey cannot ignore the pleasure of sightseeing and sharing moments. A similar approach exists in Azra Erhat and her friends’ boat trips to western Anatolian coasts. They don’t follow a strict mission but the intellectual group is highly conscious of the richness of the cultural history and natüre of Asia Minor. Erhat, the well known translator of Homer in Turkish, published these legendary travels as ‘Mavi Anadolu (Blue Anatolia)’ in 1957 and ‘Mavi Yolculuk (Blue Voyage)’ in 1960. 

Concerning the group members and their experiences, their voyage can also be evaluated as a unique art form. In her books, Erhat aimed to create a full guide addressing the travelers, explained the philosophy behind and how people can make holidays avoiding the industrial tourism.

In primary school, the question “What did you do last summer?” or “could you please describe your holiday” were the questions for the first essays after holidays at school, and also the curious question with friends after a long school break. Quite similarly in the Autumn of 2016, after being back from the fieldworks and extended holidays, our discussions and sharing memories went far beyond with Bilge Ar, a close friend and a good travel company of mine. The interest in learning from each other’s travels evolved into the idea of making our own tourist guides with experienced friends’ references and suggestions. That is how we started organizing a seminar in our faculty: “Architectural History Travel Notes.” 

Friends visiting different places during the year were invited to share his/her memories. Some of the presentations were as part of an academic research, some were just touristic. These evening talks in the cold Istanbul days united a small group of friends which reminded the appreciation of the journey itself. From Persepolis to Iceland, Tiflis to Jolfa, each talk traced a unique frame. Now looking at this series fast forward, I remember them so vividly and excited as the posters hided in a way.

Nowadays as the spring is on its way, we started to enjoy the sunny weather on the terrace at ANAMED, and the conversations go on with the idea of organizing a small trip to somewhere. It is hard to decide the destination: Iznik, Çanakkale, Izmir, or even further east Kars? Even if it would not be realized, I am very happy to dream with fellow friends, who also take the excursions as a serious task and are currently on their journey!

References:

Chandler, R. (1738-1810) [Clay, E. (Ed.) 1971]. Travels in Asia Minor 1764-1765. British Museum: London.

Fig 1: Students at Hierapolis, May 2017

Fig 2: The theatre at Miletus, (Chandler, R. (1971) Travels in Asia Minor 1764-1765. British Museum, London, Cat.9)

Fig 3: Azra Erhat, Mavi Anadolu, 1969, Bilgi Yayınevi

Fig 4: Announcements of the seminar 2016-2017

#anamed #fellows #impressions #fellowship

[itssimonebiles]

In my opinion, you aren't a true gym fan if all you do is watch American nationals and Worlds, have no knowledge of the Code of Points at all, know hardly any foreign gymnasts except Mustafina and Larisa, but still feel entitled enough to complain about Chinese artistry and the Russians' "lazy attitude", and hate on Miyakawa's lack of artistry yet still fawn over Raisman. Like, don't bitch about Russian armwaving if you have an aneurism every time someone says they dislike Simone's gymnastics.

If it makes your annoying ass feel better, I hardly know any current US gymnasts lmao. @kylarossisaboss can attest to that. As for the rest of your message, who the fuck do you think you're talking to? And I don't mean that in the way that you think I mean it. I mean it in a "did you send this to the right person?" kind of way. I don't bitch about Russian arm waving (and if I ever have them it's a rare occasion). And what the fuck are you going on about with Miyakawa? I've legit never said anything negative about her? & babe, let me clue you in. You don't need extensive knowledge of the code or to follow every person closely to be a gym fan. I feel like I'm a very fair person, hell I usually put a disclaimer on my posts about Aly that I'm a delusional Stan or whatever. Idk where this came from but you should reevaluate yourself maybe? Also sorry if I'm being a massive cunt but had you not sent me a super passive aggressive message on anon of all things, I wouldn't have reacted this way.

[foxwicked535]

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Had one since last year and just bought a second one, really love this weedeater, great power in a ergonomically great package, I use it for everything from light trimming to fence row weed removal, great power as well, I was a die hard Stihl customer but I'm all for husqvarna trimmers now. Weed eater prices. For under $50, you should be able to find a basic battery-powered or corded weed eater with no frills. For a very small yard that only needs a weed eater a few times a year, this might not be a bad choice. However, be aware that weed eaters in this price range cannot handle prolonged use. What is my ip address expressvpn.

'Why did the chicken cross the road?' 'Weed eater'

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1. Slight sins or offenses 2. Petty crimes or small infractions 3. Las VegasPunk Rock!

by James Messina August 11, 2006

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Weed Eater is the punchline to the concept that humor will be “randomly generated”. It originally came from an episode of VeggieTales but more specifically a viral post of someone putting in the clip of the prediction under the title of, “VeggieTales predicts modern humor”. Since then, to abstract memes (e.g Wide Putin) that don’t have a clear punchline, the response can often be Weed Eater, referring to the famous line said in the episode.

Person 1: *Posts weird meme* Person 2: W E E D E A T E R Person 3: Weed Eater

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The weed eater is when one performs the daunting task of eating out a female that happens to be very hairy. While 'down there' the person makes the sound of a weedeater, or a reving motor sound. vrm vrm vrm vrm vrm

Its the same as 70's porn, just add the sounds effects of a weed-eater.

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Weedeater is a sludge metal band from the Carolinas featuring sludge veteran Dave 'Dixie' Collins on bass and vocals. They debuted with .. And Justice For Y'all, followed up by Sixteen Tons, and a third album God Luck And Good Speed.

I was listening to Weedeater last night when I was hitting the bong, Wizard Fight came on and I started jamming.

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Why would you buy a $200 Weed Eater man? Just use one of the organic, living ones. Sure, it will complain about having it's ears pulled like a starter cord, but they will still get up the weeds just as good as a gas powered Weed Eater.

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Robot #1: “What is the solution to the equation 2 + 2?” Robot #2: “I don’t know. What does 2 + 2 equal?” Robot #1: thinking mode intensifies Robot #1: “WEED EATER.” Larry the Cucumber: “Now THAT’S funny!”

by Undefined Definitions April 08, 2021

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May 8 trending

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'Why did the chicken cross the road?' 'Weed eater'

Weed Eater Gas

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1. Slight sins or offenses 2. Petty crimes or small infractions 3. Las VegasPunk Rock!

by James Messina August 11, 2006

Get a Peccadilloes mug for your coworker Günter.

Weed Eater is the punchline to the concept that humor will be “randomly generated”. It originally came from an episode of VeggieTales but more specifically a viral post of someone putting in the clip of the prediction under the title of, “VeggieTales predicts modern humor”. Since then, to abstract memes (e.g Wide Putin) that don’t have a clear punchline, the response can often be Weed Eater, referring to the famous line said in the episode.

Person 1: *Posts weird meme* Person 2: W E E D E A T E R Person 3: Weed Eater

Get a Weed Eater mug for your daughter-in-law Riley.

The weed eater is when one performs the daunting task of eating out a female that happens to be very hairy. While 'down there' the person makes the sound of a weedeater, or a reving motor sound. vrm vrm vrm vrm vrm

Its the same as 70's porn, just add the sounds effects of a weed-eater.

Get a Weed-eater mug for your dad José.

Weedeater is a sludge metal band from the Carolinas featuring sludge veteran Dave 'Dixie' Collins on bass and vocals. They debuted with .. And Justice For Y'all, followed up by Sixteen Tons, and a third album God Luck And Good Speed.

I was listening to Weedeater last night when I was hitting the bong, Wizard Fight came on and I started jamming.

Get the Weedeater neck gaiter and mug.

Why would you buy a $200 Weed Eater man? Just use one of the organic, living ones. Sure, it will complain about having it's ears pulled like a starter cord, but they will still get up the weeds just as good as a gas powered Weed Eater.

Get a Weed Eater mug for your girlfriend Jovana.

Robot #1: “What is the solution to the equation 2 + 2?” Robot #2: “I don’t know. What does 2 + 2 equal?” Robot #1: thinking mode intensifies Robot #1: “WEED EATER.” Larry the Cucumber: “Now THAT’S funny!”

by Undefined Definitions April 08, 2021

Get a Weed Eater mug for your sister Helena.

May 8 trending

Weed Eater Repair Near Me

1. Watermelon Sugar

2. Ghetto Spread

3. Girls who eat carrots

4. sorority squat

5. Durk

6. Momala

7. knocking

8. Dog shot

9. sputnik

10. guvy

11. knockin'

12. nuke the fridge

13. obnoxion

14. Eee-o eleven

15. edward 40 hands

16. heels up

17. columbus

18. ain't got

19. UrbDic

20. yak shaving

21. Rush B Cyka Blyat

22. Pimp Nails

23. Backpedaling

24. Anol

25. got that

26. by the way

27. Wetter than an otter's pocket

28. soy face

29. TSIF

30. georgia rose

[smokesforwolves]

if you ever think Blackbeard overreacted, he didn’t, given the choice I too would’ve thrown an innocent man out to sea after getting dumped

#ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #stede bonnet #edward teach #blackbeard #blackstede #larisa complains it all

[robertobenoit]

God, I fear and worry so much. I stress out about every little thing and I complain about all the good You’ve done for me. Father O God, let me not worry anymore. Keep me from being fearful and jumping to conclusions. I want to love you with all my heart !!! Let that be a possibility . I thank you father for race and mercy. Even now as my heart races and my mind stressed,  I know that I can bring it to submission in trusting in you. God heal your people, redeem your creation, be the light and change your world !!! You are king, may you take your throne. I pray O Lord that you fill me up with love and boldness, the boldness to share the good news, the boldness to do your mighty work. I know that you will win, I know that you will do it ! God let forgiveness forever ring in my heart. Let gratitude and your love be the thing I always give back to you. Let me never forget the commandments, but let me look to you whenever I fail to practice them. God you love me. and God I love you. I want to see you shine, I want to make you proud, I want to do your work but there are times I get distracted and stuck in my old ways. There are times where at work I zone out, there are times in my room where I Get overwhelmed. God I don’t want to be dictated by my emotions, I Want to hear your still small voice in the midst of it all to move. I pray for those who cant see you, those who don’t experience you right now. I pray for Larisa that she may find guidance and peace in you. I know right now she feels alone, but she is not alone. She has great friends that love her, great friends that adoe her. IT’s crazy that I’m around the same and there are moments where I Think the same thing. but God you’ve shone me comfort in those difficult times , You’ve given me people I can lean on. So God let your hand come upon her life and change her for the better; to know that you are God and to know you are there . I love you papa. Let me no longer be scared, but let me abide in you, and trust you and fight the good fight ! I Will live, I will not die. You have won the victory . I will walk undefeated . In Jesus name I pray, AMEN <3

[ageofwrathrpg]

Name: Larisa Tsoy Age:  31 Ability:  Empathy Faction:  ROSTEKS as a HACKER/SPY Faceclaim:  Lucy Liu Availability:  OPEN

THE STORY || CW:  Death, Violence, Blood

Even as a young girl, Larisa’s dark eyes would sparkle each time she watched the graceful figure skaters take to the ice, aspiring to one day be like them, to one day bring home multiple Olympic gold medals.  Her human parents were supportive, as they were always supportive about everything their daughter did, and even pushed her when she thought she could no longer go on, through the pains of sprained ankles and bruised hips.  Through perseverance, Larisa Tsoy and her partner, Sayoran, were an unstoppable duo that all the competitors hated yet aspired to be.  Her Human parents never would have suspected their daughter of being a Vila, so after she turned 12 and started to complain about “feeling weird” or having sudden mood swings, they chalked it up to puberty.  Sayoran, on the other hand, suspected Larisa was Vila.  Together, they determined she was an empath and could feel the emotions of others.  As partners in more than just ice dancing, they tried to find ways to help her control it.  Because they trusted each other implicitly, Sayoran promised to take her secret to the grave.  

For two years, Sayoran kept his promise.  

A bobby pin had fallen from another dancer’s hair onto the ice.  While holding Larisa in a curved lift, Sayoran’s skate struck this pin, causing him to lose balance and drop his partner as he fell. She would never forget the clash of red streaks upon white ice as the blade of her skate crashed down.  Her screams and sobs melded with his desperate gasps and gurgles as he clutched at the deep gash of his throat.  His eyes were wide with terror, terror that she could feel.  She could feel him choking on his own blood, the pain he felt.  Larissa screamed for help and while their coach ran for an EMT, she stayed with Sayoran.  She could feel it, his fear -- not just from dying, but from dying alone.  He didn’t need to speak a word as she gripped his fingers tightly, reassuring him, over and over, “I’m not leaving you.  I’m right here.”  She refused to let go of his hand when the paramedics arrived, but he was too far gone.   Larisa felt the last of Sayoran’s life drift out of his body as though it was her own, like ice water to her veins, making her numb but sensitive to everything around her.

After Sayoran’s death, Larisa wanted nothing to do with people.  She dreaded feeling that pain again, that hopelessness and fear.  Because their daughter had witnessed and been involved with something so traumatic, her parents never thought twice about Larisa locking herself away from the world.  She had seen counselors and therapists alike, but due to her empathy, she felt more judgment from them than sincerity.  She found refuge in computers; they were just things that had no feelings, but they were useful.  Eventually, she did brave the public for the sole purpose of obtaining degrees in Computer Science and Engineering.  Because she spent all her time with these machines, it wasn’t long before she was building her own computers and learning how to manipulate their uses to benefit herself and her parents.  Through forums, chat rooms, and eventually social media, Larisa learned she could still have a social life without ever having to leave her basement.  It was perfect, to just communicate with others without physical feeling what they felt.

Time and time again, she came across sites and forums created by humans who detested Vilas, some even plotted ways to destroy innocent Vila families.  Larisa would go into full-on hacktivist mode and bring these sites down, track down the users’ computers and do everything in her power not just to destroy their own machines, but their lives as well.  How dare they plot to hurt, let alone kill, innocent people?  It was through a twist of fate that she stumbled across information about the Rosteks, and agreeing with most of their Cause, did not hesitate to offer her services to them.  She now uses her hacking abilities to spy the various information exchanges between individuals and groups, and uses algorithms to track any “suspicious” activity.

THE CHARACTER

Online, Larisa is a very sociable person through messengers and video chats.  She is considered likable and has a dry wit that others find hilarious, able to defuse a heated conversation with her stellar sense of humor, not to mention knowledgeable about computers and certainly not above helping out a “nerd in need”.  Online, nearly everyone is equal and it does not matter if someone is Vila or Human and that is a large part of the appeal.  However, she takes great pride in striking down Humans who dare intend harm to Vilas regardless of affiliation.  

CONNECTIONS

Yana Czarevna Grekova - Several years ago, Larisa followed a lead that a science facility was conducting experiments on Vilas.  By happenstance, she came across Yana in the same forum discussion, quickly learning that the woman was a researcher for the Lesyas.  The hacker’s gut reaction was to investigate Yana, learning some basics … including her brief stent with the Rosteks.  Initially, Larisa thought befriending her would be her “in” to the Lesyas for the sake of obtaining information for the Rosteks, but she quickly discovered that the two had more in common than she had realized at first.  The beauty about computers was that you didn’t need to hear in order to read typed words, you didn’t need to be physically with someone to know how they felt, and you couldn’t read someone’s thoughts through a computer.  It wasn’t long at all before she considered Yana to be a true friend, though she keeps her Rostek affiliation a secret. Because Yana is a telepath, they have yet to meet in person, and Larisa prefers to keep it that way or she could risk losing everything.

Aleksey Zhu - Computer aficionados need a reliable supplier, and Zhu’s got the goods.  This technopath knows zir stuff and Larisa is happy to do business with zir.  In fact, Larisa goes as far as to not only vouch for Zhu’s authenticity and quality, but will even go as far as to organize requests and shipments for the Rosteks.  These two keep in close contact online and in person.  In fact, she sees a lot of Sayoran in Zhu, and is quite protective of zir, setting up firewalls and safety features to ensure her friend’s safety from cyber attacks.  Zhu is one of the few people Larisa doesn’t mind hanging out with on a regular basis, as she adores zir “toys” and the two will rarely run out of anything to talk about.  

Kirill Samuilovich Wolff - Larisa does know that Kirill is Shifr’s right hand man, and according to her sources, Shifr’s got his fingers in a lot of pies.  She learned that one of the reasons why he is so good at protecting Shifr is his empathy.  Looking deeper into his life, his family, his military service--and knowing her own personal experience with the same ability--she could only have respect for him coming out of it seemingly balanced … at least, in present day.  Though she does not know him personally, she respects him for his loyalty to his boss.  He actually seems like a nice guy when he’s not bashing in the heads of Shifr’s enemies.

Elena Vladimirovna Ostrovsky - One bad day was all it took and Larisa was in the Rostek gym, punching the shit out of a heavy bag. She was rusty, but she’d retained enough of her figure skating training regime to clumsily pick off where she’d started. Elena walked in on her throwing blow after blow, and suddenly she spoke: “You should go on a mission with me.” Larisa was stunned to silence, and then she was embarrassed. She started to pack her things and Elena’s expression grew defiant. Ever since, Elena’s been pestering Larisa to try being an assassin, a spy, a damn thief if that’s what it takes to get her off of her screen — but Larisa has none of it. She’d sooner chain herself to her monitor than join Elena on anything. 

Rashid Javed Bashir - Once upon a time, Larisa and Zhu visited a bar after hours, and though there were few people in attendance, they certainly were enjoying themselves … until this hunka hunka sexy cop walked through the door.  He was in his uniform, and because he was smiling and making nice with the bartender, Larisa was under the assumption (in her drunken state) that he just HAD to be a stripper.  Needless to say, they were both quite embarrassed when the bartender informed her that he was really a senior lieutenant and was just checking in after his shift.  Nevertheless, it was certainly an ice-breaker!  She finds him endearing, somewhat dorky, but always good for a laugh and a pick-me-up.  His natural optimism is something she actually enjoys being around and the two have remained good friends.  Though she can’t quite figure out if he’s Vila … or if he’s Human, and Vila police employees are notorious for lying on their records; however, she is leaning toward Vila as this cop refuses to use his gun with the Vila suppressant bullets.

[[ More Connections ]]

ETC

Because she hates crowds and being around people in general, she avoids shopping in public and will instead order everything online to have it delivered to her home.

Banks are easy targets for a woman of her skills and she will often transfer money in a Robin Hood-esque way … except she and the Rosteks are often the ones reaping the benefits. 

Larisa loves to dance and is very graceful with her movements.

Sometimes, she will dare to venture into public for the sake of a mission … though sometimes, she will do it to briefly socialize as long as it is a small group (such as after hours as a bar, restaurant, or movie theater). 

She lives in a large basement apartment at the Rostek Manor and refers to her “home base” as “The Citadel”, as an homage to her own given name.  It is filled with top-of-the-line equipment that is either extremely difficult or impossible to find anywhere else.

#lucy liu fc #superpower rp #crime rp #original rp #lsrp #c: larisa #larisa #open #openf #openr #female #rostek #all #connection: rashid #connection: elena #connection: kirill #connection: aleksey #connection: yana #empathy #lucy liu

[smokesforwolves]

love? like stede and ed from ofmd? you know that’s not real right?

#ofmd #stede bonnet #edward teach #blackbeard #blackbonnet #our flag means death #gay pirate love #if only #sigh #larisa complains it all

[smokesforwolves]

Louis anytime Sherlock calls William ‘Liam’:

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #sherlock holmes #louis james moriarty #sherliam #ynm #yuukoku no moriarty #larisa complains it all

[smokesforwolves]

🩸a Demon Prodigy in more ways than one🩸

#vampire!dazai #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #cosplay #me #larisa complains it all

[smokesforwolves]

me watching Bo Burnham: Inside

#it was SO GOOD #I laughed and SOBBED #bo burnham: inside #bo burnham #larisa complains it all