#Ukraine is still fighting; don’t leave it in the dark | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marvelhero-fics · 4 years

Text

Snowman

Series - Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re a HYDRA assassin that’s worked closely with the Winter Soldier, to each of your dismay you’re reunited with Bucky after the blip.

A/N: I haven’t posted in like 300 years, but I hope you guys enjoy this new series! This follows parts of TFATWS so expect spoilers! (Also I’m sure all the Russian is absolutely wrong, if you’d like to correct it please send me a message!)

Word Count: 1,815 (future chapters will be wayyy longer)

Snowman Masterlist || Full Masterlist

New York

2023

“So tell me about this-” the therapist looked down at her notes briefly, “(Y/N).” She finished.

Bucky paused momentarily, “No.”

“James, for these therapy sessions to be effective, you need to open up to me. I can’t help you if I don't know what’s wrong.” His therapist responded, laying her pen carefully on her small notebook.

Bucky thought for a moment, taking in the ambience of the room. What would he even say about (Y/N)? He hadn’t seen her in years. Bucky was kicking himself for accidentally bringing her up in his session last week. “I- uh-” he stammered, shifting his weight on the couch, “I met her in 2011. At least I think it was 2011. Date’s get kinda fuzzy sometimes, with all the cryo.” Bucky’s hand pressed against his head, feeling dazed as he tried to think back. “It was at the big HYDRA base outside of Moscow. We had to go on a mission together-” he was cut off,

“Did she work for HYDRA?” Dr Raynor interjected.

“Yea. She was an assassin too. She went by the alias the Viper.” Bucky pretended not to notice his therapist tense up. Anyone who knew anything about HYDRA knew who the Viper was. She was one of the most prolific assassins after the Winter Soldier.

“Tell me more about when you met her.”

“We were instructed to take out a terrorist organisation forming against SHIELD. Which was ironic because we were working for a terrorist organisation. But at this point SHIELD was being run by HYDRA and they couldn’t risk any slip ups, so they put 6 assassins on the job. HYDRA usually didn’t have their assassins working together, we were all too volatile. But we had to take out over 70 people in one night. It was (Y/N), a few assassins from the Red Room, and a few agents that HYDRA had trained personally, and me.” Bucky stopped.

“Where was (Y/N) trained?”

“At a secondary facility run by HYDRA. She was trained from a really young age. It’s all she’s known.” Bucky seemed somber. But his therapist continued,

“What happened on the mission?”

“Nothing. It went exactly to plan. The targets were taken out and we all left without a trace. But (Y/N), she- she kept trying to talk to me, or get to know me. I was the Winter Soldier. No one in their right mind ever tried to ‘get to know me’.”

“Why do you think (Y/N) did that?”

“She told me she was bored.” He replied bluntly.

Moscow

2011

The poorly lit conference room was filled with a myriad of assassins and officials. The only illumination came from old LED lights hanging from the concrete ceiling. The mossy green paint on the walls looked as if it hadn’t been patched up in years. The only new-ish part of the room was the large, oak conference table, surrounded by black, leather seating. It was difficult not to notice the red HYDRA symbol holding a spot on almost every piece of clothing in the area.

“TITAN terroristicheskaya organizatsiya, formiruyushchayasya protiv nas. (TITAN is a terrorist organisation forming against us.)” Kuznetsov spoke, “Izbrannyye budut otpravleny segodnya vecherom v Ukrainu dlya vypolneniya postavlennoy zadachi. Uberi ikh. (The chosen ones will be sent to Ukraine tonight to complete their given tasks. Take them out.)”

That was all it took. You stared at the file in front of you. You had read through it multiple times, going over every single name, every single skill set your targets had. You were more than certain you could complete this job on your own. But you had no choice on the matter.

Your eyes darted around, taking in the faces of the assassins that were to accompany you on your mission. Two youthful females, dressed in black leather sat next to each other. The older, grimacing woman behind them was Madame B., the head supervisor of the Red Room. You moved your gaze to the two agents in dark green uniforms and red, soviet berets. Neither looked particularly menacing.

You finally landed on the last assassin. His dark hair fell like curtains around his face. Gloomy blue eyes searched their way through the room. His sharp jaw seemed tense through his stubbled cheeks. He was large, extremely built. Covering his frame was an amplitude of black clothing and gear.

“Play nice.” Your mentor spoke softly over your shoulder, breaking you from your train of thought.

“I always do.”

Your padded snow boots ripped through the thick snow covering the ground. The six of you had hiked your way to the set point on your GPS systems, the clouds of snowfall covering your vision held the illusion that there were absolutely no structures nearby. A large helicopter had dropped the group a few miles out from the hideout to ensure nothing was compromised. The trek was in utter silence, fighting against the harsh temperature in mid February.

The waypoint became closer on your map, a tiny building slowly appeared in your vision against the foggy downfall. It was a small, wooden cabin. Everyone hustled their way through the unlocked door. It was barren, it held no furniture, no blankets, no means of any life. There appeared to be a few doors that led to small, empty rooms. The entrance only held a small fireplace, filled with old cut down logs that had been eaten by bugs.

The group quickly dispersed, you headed to one of the rooms alone, throwing down your belongings onto the floor. The bag you carried was mainly filled with weapons and ammunition, along with a very warm sleeping bag. You knew too well you wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, but you would need the extra heat for now.

There was no chatter anywhere in the house. Your mission would begin in 6 hours. Everyone was likely putting together their artillery. You decided to cozy up in your navy sleeping bag for a moment of comfort.

Someone had lit the fire in the lounge. A warm, orange light crept through the cracks in your door. The ambiance was strangely calming for a shitty cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Snow continued to fall against the tiny glass pane of your room. You weren’t a fan of assassinating in the snow. It was low vision, harsher climates, and it lessened the ability to move. Snakes weren’t creatures of the cold. Conveniently you’d been grouped with someone who called himself ‘The Winter Soldier’. I’m sure he loves the cold, you thought.

You’d heard a lot about him. Everyone had. He was the perfect assassin. He never failed a mission, his body didn’t reject cryo, every form of enhancement HYDRA had used on him had been a success. He was what every assassin had aspired to be.

Without thought, you grabbed the glass bottle laying next to you and walked off to the room the Winter Soldier had claimed for the night.

“Privet (Hello)”. You announced, pushing his door open with a creak. His head didn’t turn towards you. He sat on the floor, the sound coming from him indicated he was sharpening knives.

“Khochesh' vypit'? (Want a drink?)” You asked, motioning the bottle towards him.

He stayed silent for a moment. Finally he turned, looking up at you from his position on the floor. “What is it?” His dark tone asked back. The amber light from the fire crashed against his features. His strong jaw was covered with a dark stubble, his brunette hair tucked behind his ears. His most obvious feature was the hauntingly blue eyes that sat in sunken sockets, he looked drained.

“It’s vodka.” You stated, honestly. You were surprised to hear he wasn’t Russian, he sounded… American?

“You’re drinking before a mission?” He queried.

You shrugged. “Alcohol doesn’t freeze.” You sat down next to him. “Plus it takes the edge off.” A faint clinking noise announced as you placed the bottle on the floor between you two. He stared at you for a moment, before quietly going back to his knives.

“Wanna play 20 questions?” You interrupted the silence.

“No.”

“What about truth or dare?”

“I’m not 14.” the soldier replied, his eyes not leaving his handy work.

“How old are you?” You shot back,

“Why are you trying to get to know me?” He dodged your question.

“I’m bored.” You shrugged, taking a deep swig of the vodka. “And by my calculations,” you peered down at your watch, “we still have 3 hours and 27 minutes until the mission starts.”

He gave a shallow sigh, “93.”

“What?”

“I’m 93. How old are you.”

“93?! You were born in 1917?”

“Mhm. How old are you.”

“25. You look great for 93.” You chuckled.

“You look old for 25.” He jabbed back. His knife sharpener still grinding across a 6 inch blade.

“You flatter me.” You replied sarcastically. “So what’s your story? How’d you make it to 93?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Why would I ask if I didn’t want to know?”

Bucky looked over at you. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to know.”

“C’mon old man, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” You smirked. He once again, went back to his knives. It almost seemed as if he was trying to threaten you, pulling out larger knife after larger knife.

You huffed, opening your mouth to speak, “I was born in Hungary to a drug abusing mother, and an absent father. I was kidnapped and sold to HYDRA when I was 6. I was placed under the care of the Kraken. Not sure if you’ve met him, he’s this large guy-”

“I’ve met him.” Bucky stated, interrupting your spiel.

“Right, well, he trained me for years. Eventually HYDRA got involved again and I was tested on, experimented on, messed with, ya’ know, all that fun stuff.” You explained.

“Are you enhanced?” Bucky asked, almost as if he was actually interested.

“Yea. I have this whole snake venom trick. It’s great for up close combat. The experiments really should’ve killed me though. But maybe that’s what makes us so good-” Bucky looked over at the woman next to him, her bright eyes stared back at him as she spoke “ya’ know, the best assassins are the ones living off borrowed time. Because we’ve met death before, so we’re not afraid to do it again.”

Bucky quickly grabbed the Barrett M82 rifle next to him, his metal arm making faint whirring noises. “I’m going to scope out the base.” He stated bluntly. And with that, his large black boots walked him out the bedroom, and out the door.

You let out a faint sigh, creeping back to your room to sort out your weapons. You were sure it was something you said that scared him off. I guess at 93 you have to be living off too much borrowed time, you speculated. You absentmindedly set up your pistols, your mind not being able to wander from the Winter Soldier. Maybe annoying the Red Room girls would get your mind off it.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky imagine #bucky oneshot #bucky series #bucky barnes series #bucky #Bucky barnes #the avengers #tfatws #the winter solider #the winter solider x reader #the winter solider fanfic

333 notes · View notes

wienerbarnes · 3 years

Text

When It’s Over

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,762

Warnings: canon level violence

A/N: back w cheek to cheek😌 there's some heavy inso from the fight scene from fatws w walker so peep that👀 as well as some linked references to past pieces!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

The near-silent sound of the door clicking shut wakes you up. While you know if there was some kind of actual threat there’d be alarms and lights going off because of F.R.I.D.A.Y. 's security measures, your body still tenses at the unnatural sound.

Why is someone in your room in the middle of the night? Unless -

A sweaty and musky smell floods your nostrils as the intruder hunches over your body, burying their face into your neck and breathing in deeply before pressing a soft kiss. Bucky’s home.

You turn over and place your hands on either side of his face to kiss him properly but you pause when his face feels unnaturally wet.

“Is that sweat? Why are you all wet?” You whisper into the darkness, reaching over to turn on the lamp on your bedside table.

You gasp when the light reveals Bucky’s face, neck, and hair drenched in blood. You eyes roam the rest of his body to see his tactical gear in the same condition.

“Jesus, Bucky, who were you fighting?”

He smirks, fatigue clouding his features, “You should see the other guys.” Your eyebrows scrunch at the sound of more than one person as he reaches into one of his pant pockets, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper.

He hands it to you and turns away to begin stripping off his dirty clothes. You unfold it carefully so as to not rip it or mangle it up further to reveal your list, with all of the names crossed off harshly and a new one added at the bottom, a name not in your handwriting nor in your memory.

“Is this what you were doing? Who is the last name? I didn’t write that.” While you're upset he lied to you, you feel an indescribable sense of relief wash over you, a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. No more HYDRA after you. No more handlers. No more guards after your blood, your powers.

“The soldier who shot you. With the metal arms. I destroyed everything that even looked a little bit like a serum in every building I went to, so I think he’s the last super soldier. Or at least for now. I hope.” He tells you, finally down to his underwear. He’s still breathing kind of heavily, probably from pure exhaustion. He’s only been gone for six days and he took out all the names on your list. Did he even sleep?

You’re still holding the list in your hands when he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered. He uses his towel to scrunch out as much water from his hair as he can and tosses it in the pile of dirty clothes. He pulls on a pair of underwear and doesn’t even bother putting on actual pajamas, approaching the bed.

“I promise we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. He’s supposed to be in Minsk. I’m so fucking tired…” He sighs, trailing off, taking the list from your hands and placing it on the nightstand, turning off the lamp.

“Where is that?”

“Belarus. Above Ukraine.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up. And for not telling you, I didn’t want to -”

“Shh, don’t apologize. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m just glad you’re home.”

The thought of technically being free hasn’t hit you, it hasn’t even begun being processed by your brain yet. It probably won’t for a while, a few days, maybe weeks. No more HYDRA.

Bucky slumps into the mattress next to you, not even getting under the covers, too tired to adjust his position. You get out from under the covers as well, pushing yourself up against his back, spooning him like a backpack, trying to pull him as close to you as possible.

In less than a week, he got rid of everything and everyone you’ve been afraid of for years. People you had nightmares about, that hounded your every thought every single hour of every single day. He got rid of them for you.

He grabs your hand that rests on his chest and brings it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on it.

No more fear.

...

Bucky sleeps for fourteen hours, into the following evening. He wakes up to the smell of toasted bread, the crust around his eyes pinching at his skin until he brings up his right hand to rub it away. He sees your back at the counter and after another deep inhale, smells acidic tomato and smoky bacon.

Sandwiches for lunch. He glances at the clock to see the time as 5:18. Sandwiches for dinner.

He lets out a long yawn as he sits up, left arm reaching up to scratch at his head, hair feeling knotted due to the fact that he fell asleep with it wet. I need another haircut soon.

He gets up and walks around the kitchen island to greet you, despite missing most of the day. You turn to face him as you hear his footsteps approach and reach up to plant a long kiss on his mouth.

“I have mornin’ breath,” Bucky mumbles against your lips, hands resting gently on the tops of your shoulders as he feels your hand wrap around his naked waist.

“I don’t care. I love you.” You kiss him again and again, harder and harder each time.

“Babe,”

“You freed me.” More kisses.

“Huh,” He giggles against your lips, finding your affection amusing, but unknowingly needed.

“I love you. Thank you. You freed me, you saved me.” You repeat, kisses smacking in between your words.

He thinks back to the mangled list he tossed in your direction last night, how he came home covered in blood in an exhausted haze. You freed me, you tell him. From HYDRA, he understands.

“You don’t thank me for nothing,” He pulls away, hands cupping your face in order to temporarily stop your kisses, “I love you. I’ll do anything for you. It’s the bare minimum.” He tells you.

All you do is stare up at his blue eyes. As though he’s Atlas, holding up the world underneath your feet. The bare minimum. How he’s ruined you for any man or person at all with the way he treats you, the way he loves you. You don’t look away from him with your loving stare as he steals a piece of bacon off the pan on the stove before turning and going into the bathroom.

...

You, Bucky, Sam, and Joaquin occupy the small jet on the way to Belarus.

“Who are we fighting again?” Sam asks, half-serious, as he adjusts the shield on his back.

“His name is Jean-Baptiste Allaire. But I don’t think he knows that.”

“...Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“A bad guy.” Bucky answers this time.

I suppose that is all he really needs to know.

Soon enough the plane lands and the three of you go off, leaving Torres in the jet to monitor and wait in case there’s a need for backup, eventually ending up in a dilapidated building. You assume it’s a facility used to house the soldier, if Bucky was able to trace him back to here. They probably keep him away from the major facilities with most of the guards to limit the risk of him dying during raids or other compromises, you think.

“Be careful around this guy.” Bucky warns Sam as you get closer, approaching the building, slowly walking down a long hallway in order to find anything that would signify him being here.

Bucky slows down, causing everyone else to slow down as they approach the end of the hallway, allowing the only option to turn to the left, revealing a large cell, the soldier sitting in the corner.

A flash of confusion flashes across his face before it disappears, an emotionless expression replacing it as he stands, the whirring of his metal arms being the only sound as he approaches the three of you, ready to fight.

The three of you back up down the hallway to allow more space, but it doesn’t last long as he begins to attack, launching himself at Sam to start mindlessly fighting.

The soldier and Sam throw punches at each other and you run over to help, but as you come up to them, he whips around, grabbing you by the collar of your tactical vest, and throws you across the room with one swing.

“Woah!” Your body smashes into a wall, a loud creaking sound coming from the metal of his arms as your body makes impact and slams to the ground.

“Shit!” You groan, getting ignored as the three men fight each other. He’s strong as fuck.

Your vision stops spinning and you stand, a shield whizzing past your head, nearly decapitating you, and lodging itself into the wall behind you.

Bucky’s already got blood all over his face from fighting him, and you take a wild guess that the soldier has some sort of serum that’s the same or stronger than Bucky’s in his body.

He grabs Bucky and flings him to the side, his body crashing into the cell he was originally in. A metal pole with wires wrapped around it stands in the middle of the small cell, which Bucky’s body slams into, electrocuting him and knocking him unconscious.

You remember Bucky explaining to you one time that he was always going to be a lot more sensitive to electrocution and shock therapy after what HYDRA would do to him, regardless of how super he is.

You look to Sam to see the soldier straddled on top of him, throwing punch after punch into his face, then moving to tear off one of Sam’s wings with his bare hands, sparks flying around them.

Suddenly something flows through you. Not something; anger. Pure rage. You realize that this guy is out to kill and it’s like a switch has been flipped. You're reaching over towards the wall and ripping out the shield, throwing it as hard as you can and hitting the soldier in the side of the face.

You march over while he’s distracted and disoriented by the blood pouring out of his head and kick the side of his face, knocking him over and off of Sam. You use the same leg to kick at the shield that’s now on the ground, flipping it up into your hands, and slam the flattest part down onto his head, using it to block the punch he throws.

You toss it to the side and straddle him yourself when you get a split second of a chance, him hitting you with a gnarly punch - a Bucky-level, super-soldier punch - but you hit him back, ignoring the fiery hot pain that explodes in your face. Though not as strong, you feel your fists break his nose and crack his cheek bone, his blood making your hands stickier and stickier as you punch and punch and punch.

“Don’t! Touch! My! Friends!” You yell in between punches, using both your hands to slam down at the same time, blood dripping from your own face from his singular punch.

You slam both hands onto either side of his face, and in a second, you realize you’ve tapped into his brain. His arms drop to the ground beside his body and you’re in complete control.

Never have you ever tapped into someone’s mind so quickly. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the fiery anger of seeing your friends getting hurt that made it so easy.

You smile wickedly, laughing in his face, “Now, you’re mine.” You pant through your teeth.

“51, don’t.” Bucky groans. You glance up to see him on his hands and knees now, still feeling the after effects of the electricity, small sparks jumping from creases in his arm. You look over to the side to see Sam also leaned over on the ground, looking at you. Waiting.

They’re not scared of you, but they’re… wary. Everytime you’ve controlled someone’s mind, they’ve died. The man from prison. The scientist from the HYDRA video. Dead in a second because of your powers.

Bucky looks at you and he sees the same girl from that video years ago, one of few survivors of a HYDRA facility, smiling with blood caked in between the cracks of your teeth, pure powerful energy running through your veins.

The soldier lays underneath you, unmoving. You look down at him again and his eyes are pooling with fear. An understandable feeling for someone who’s aware of what’s happening, who’s present in the moment, but has zero control of their body. A feeling he probably knows very well being under the control of HYDRA.

He probably came into the picture after Bucky’s escape and the initial fall of HYDRA, a sad soul that was captured and forced to comply. A job that used to be yours. Tortured, arms torn away, and mind blended until he didn’t know anything other than to fight.

“I wasn’t gonna do nothing,” You reassure, “Maybe just… have him jog around the block in his underwear a few times. For fucking up my shoulder and all.”

You release his face from in between your palms, forcing his head to slam back onto the concrete floor.

“Don’t. Move.” You point at him with a bloody finger.

You take one final look at him before standing up off of him and turning to walk back in the direction of the jet.

“I’m not waiting around for the feds,” You mumble, exhausted. Your face is pounding less and less and just going numb altogether, which you don’t think is a good sign.

“Go after her,” Sam tells Bucky, “I’ll call Torres to come over and help me. And reach out to Shuri, see if there’s anything she can do to help him.” The soldier remains unmoving on the ground, eyes shooting around the room wildly, but body stiff as a board.

Bucky gets himself up, grabbing the vibranium shield and handing it back to Sam, who’s still groaning on the ground. It’s not easy fighting super soldiers, Bucky imagines. It’s not like Sam has mind powers.

He walks out of the building to try and catch up with you.

“Hey,” He says, gently reaching for your arm to pull you back towards him.

The blood from your shattered nose has now pooled down your chin and neck, soaking your tac gear. Bucky tilts your face up with barely any pressure. A thumb brushes across your face and you wince, but try not to move so he can assess you.

“I think your cheekbone is broken.”

“My fingers,” You all but whimper, bringing them up from your sides.

“Also broken. At least six of ‘em,” He presses and pulls along each of them, ignoring your wincing and pulls on your right middle finger, a pop sounding and a loud groan coming from your mouth, teeth clenching so hard you think you’ll crack them, “Five. That one was just dislocated.”

“You guys will help him, right?” You confirm, Bucky still gently roaming his hands along your body to check for major injuries.

“He didn’t do anything,” You whimper, and Bucky looks up to see tears in your eyes.

“Babe -”

“He’s not evil, he didn’t mean to do anything,” You cry, and begin to sob, your emotions overwhelming you.

“He didn’t, baby, we’ll help him as much as we can. Right now, we need to get you to the jet so we can go home and get you to the MedBay, can we do that? Can you walk, want me to carry you?” He coos, hating the sight of his girlfriend in both physical and emotional pain.

You sniffle and close your eyes, ducking your head, and Bucky takes your silence as a plea to be carried, gently scoping you up bridal style and carefully walking back in the direction of the jet. He hears a few more sniffles as you curl into his body, nuzzling into his jaw, as you close your eyes and try to ignore the pain in your face as much as you can.

“Can we go out tonight? To that little Italian place we went to that one time?”

“If you’re not too tired or in too much pain, sure, baby.”

“And a movie?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll wine and dine you real good.”

“Red wine or white?”

“We can have that pink raspberry one you like. The one that tastes nothing like wine.”

“Ugh, don’t make me smile, it hurts.”

“Sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #o she powerful #and overprotective of her frens

95 notes · View notes

coochiequeens · 3 years

Text

I feel terrible for anyone stuck in a war zone. But the people interviewed just seem like people trying to justify not helping the resistance effort. Why can’t the transwomen just help create Molotov cocktails like other women? If asked why they didn’t flee they can just reply that women with children and elderly parents should have left first. They don’t have to go into detail about why they don’t have kids. Why can’t a transman fight? Ukrainian men from all over, many with no real military training, are returning home to fight. Will another inexperienced man really stand out?

Trans people in Ukraine have told VICE World News that they are “totally stuck” and “scared for their lives” in the country.

Two Ukrainian trans women said they can’t leave Ukraine or even safely travel through it because all of their identification documents say “male” and mention their “old masculine names”.

Some trans people have even been advised to “lose their ID” by human rights groups, in order to get out of Ukraine. Trans campaigners estimate this issue is leading to “hundreds” of trans people in Ukraine being left in “serious danger” and feeling “completely alone”.

One trans woman said she is “terrified” of being stopped trying to leave Ukraine, and being forced to join the Ukrainian army “as a man” – especially because authorities are stopping men aged 18 to 60 from leaving. Another Ukrainian trans woman is too scared to leave her accommodation in fear of transphobic attacks. She’s the only person left in her neighbourhood.

One trans man, who transitioned over six years ago and has lived as a man in Ukraine since, only has an ID showing “female”. He told VICE World News about his fears of leaving his house and trying to make it across Ukraine. During a phone call, screaming and explosions were heard coming from outside his accommodation, but he still refused to leave because of his ID issue.

A non-binary Ukrainian person explained their fears of leaving Ukraine and heading to “places like Poland or Hungary” where their identity is “ridiculed” and not recognised. “I need to choose between my own country – that I have learned how to navigate –or a totally foreign place where I could feel even more excluded and in danger,” they added.

A humanitarian crisis is unfolding in Ukraine following Russian President Vladimir Putin’s invasion. The UNHCR, the United Nations’ refugee agency, confirmed that 520,000 refugees from Ukraine have now entered neighbouring countries since last Thursday, warning “this figure has been rising exponentially, hour after hour.” However, trans people may not have made those journeys.

Zi Faámelu is a 31-year-old trans woman from Kyiv. She is a musician and has appeared on TV in her home nation. Faámelu said she can’t leave the country and her life is in danger.

“Like hundreds of trans people in Ukraine, I am a woman, but I have ‘male’ in my passport and on all my ID, so this is a war within a war. Ukrainian trans people were already fighting for their lives.”

“There are hundreds of us stuck like this, living miserable lives. We need some influence from abroad. We need people to write to their politicians and charities to help us.”

She is sitting in darkness while she talks to me. In her hands, she holds a “very sharp” knife. Alone in her area, she is scared of who could be outside her apartment.

Trans people in Ukraine can obtain legal gender recognition, but human rights groups have called the process “abusive”, as it “violates the rights to privacy and physical integrity.”

Asked why she didn’t change her ID documents before now, Faámelu said the process in Ukraine is “humiliating” and she’s seen people having to “stay in mental institutions for months, with psychological and physical tests to prove their gender.”

“We don’t want to go through that, so we just kept our passports as they were and laid low, stayed quiet. It’s hell for trans people here. I should have left earlier but I was waiting for some emergency gender documents, but the doctors suddenly said no.”

“I'm completely alone now. Everybody in my neighbourhood has left. It’s such a dangerous situation, but I'm trying to stay optimistic. I've seen people running for their lives, and screaming at each other to leave things behind and just get out - but I have to stay where I am. It’s the only option for me right now.”

“It is very dangerous for me as a trans person in Ukraine on a normal day, so now, it is impossible. Many gay people in Ukraine can blend in with the rest of society now, but for trans people it is impossible. There are so many physical traits that we are attacked for – big chin, broad shoulders – we’re beaten, we’re killed. We need to get out now, but we can’t even leave our apartments.”

“They will see my passport and see ‘male’, they will see my birth name, and call me a man in a dress and attack me.”

Faámelu spoke of trans people who have been threatened by individuals openly carrying weapons in their areas.

“I’m now even more scared to be in Ukraine because everyone has a gun. Now my attackers have an excuse to carry out their hate and violence. People know where I live. Every sound outside is scary,” she said.

“Trans people now feel forgotten, neglected, abandoned. We are actually invisible at the moment. We need the United Nations, we need human rights organisations. We need people to help us get noticed.”

People fleeing Ukraine have been told that several neighbouring countries will accept them without any ID, however the journeys to get to the borders may still involve being stopped at checkpoints by the police or military, queueing with members of the public, and being split into “male and female” groups for prioritising safety and travel.

Being LGBTQ in Ukraine can be life-threatening. Attacks against people based on their sexuality and gender identity are common, and citizens told us “our police just stand by and watch.”

Less than a month ago, vandals damaged an LGBTQ community centre in Kharkiv, a city in northeast Ukraine. The attackers wrote “death threats” and “Christian scriptures” across the centre’s “mural of equality.” Campaigners said the centre had only recently been repaired after the last attacks, when “urine, shit and blood were smeared on the front door.”

Trans people in Ukraine have told VICE World News that their lives “were not worth living” before the war, and the current situation has only made matters worse for them.

Robert, 31, is a trans man who was living in Kharkiv, Ukraine. We are not identifying Robert’s surname to protect his identity. Robert’s years on testosterone have led to him “being able to pass like any other man”, but his ID still says he is “female” and uses his birth name.

“My parents tried to kill me when I told them I’m trans,” he told VICE World News earlier this week. “Everybody here knows me as ‘he’, nobody knows my situation. This is why I’m in so much danger now.”

“I’m so afraid for my life,” Robert added. “A lot of people have offered me help once I get to different countries, but I can’t get through Ukraine like this. The problem here is that you can look like one thing, but your papers say something else.”

“I can’t work, I can’t have a bank account, I can’t have a driver’s licence. I can’t continue at university because the university can’t approve my papers. I’ve just been cutting people’s hair, cleaning bathrooms and apartments, just to feed myself. It’s just existing, not living.”

Robert is now being supported by LGBTQ campaigner Rain Dove, who recently created a group and a fund to directly help “LGBTQ people, disabled people and families” stranded in Ukraine. The group has now supported “over 700 people” to get out of Ukraine, and many of them are LGBTQ.

Rain Dove told VICE World News: “We’ve had trans people get rejected at some borders, but everyone we’ve supported has eventually got out.”

“If you’re a trans woman with an ‘M’ on your passport, or you’re gender nonconforming with an ‘M’, we recommend that you ‘lose’ your passport before you speak to Ukrainian officials. Hide your ID in a water bottle, or in your shoe. If you get stopped, you can just say that you’re not from here, you can say that you’re a student in Ukraine, or were just visiting. Without an ID, you will be sent to a long line of foreign nationals, but you’ll then be talking to officials from the bordering nations, and you can present your ID without an issue. This has worked 100 percent of the time.

“If you’re a trans man with an ‘F’ on your ID, prepare to be gaslit by Ukrainian authorities. They will say ‘if you’re really a man, then fight for your country.’ This is unfortunately a really common thing. You could also hide your ID, but we know some people who have stayed to fight.”

Rémy Bonny, executive director of Forbidden Colours, an organisation pushing for LGBTQ equality across Europe, told VICE World News, “the Russian aggression against Ukraine has shocked the entire world, and queer people are extraordinarily affected by this war.”

Asked what people around the world can do to help these individuals, Bonny said, “Please donate to initiatives that are helping queer refugees from Ukraine. We are expecting about 100,000 queer refugees in the coming weeks, entering Poland, Hungary and Romania, but in the past, refugee camps have proven not to be safe spaces for LGBTQ persons.”

#Ukraine #trans people making a war about themselves

4 notes · View notes

horrorslashergirl · 4 years

Text

Decebal Avram Chirilă Headcanons

Authors Note: I did some Headcanons for my Romania Original Characters and used a lot of history references to depict his character. I think it turned out to be good, but I am very certain. Also, I have no grudge against other countries and such. This is strictly for my character. I mean; just because you create a character that kills that doesn’t mean you support real life murder or you kill yourself. Good, now that we made that clear. ENJOY!

Rebel with a cause; Outlaw by heart

Decebal is someone that both stands out and can blend in, which is a paradox. He stands out mostly because of his very tall form and handsome eccentric features; basically, when he enters a room he lights it up with his attitude. The blend in part is mostly after the big entrance in a room. He is multilingual and can fake accents, which confuses people. For example, he went to Italy multiple times and the local ones there thought at first he was a foreigner, until Decebal put on the Italian accent, speaking it fluently; the locals were confused. Is he Italian? Doesn't look like it.

He doesn't like uncultured people. He is a man who loves to learn about other countries' histories and culture, to broaden his horizons in this aspect. Knowledge is the second most valuable treasure along with Freedom. He is happy to explain culture and information misunderstandings about his country. 'No, dragă. Romanian isn't a Slavic language. It's a Latin language.' He had to explain this way too many times.

History has put a great impact on Decebal; he loves and hates it at the same time. He loves it because you get valuable lessons out of it; for example, in November 1942 Soviet forces launched a counteroffensive against the Germans arrayed at Stalingrad in mid-November 1942. They quickly encircled an entire German army, more than 220,000 soldiers. In February 1943, after months of fierce fighting and heavy casualties, the surviving German forces—only about 91,000 soldiers—surrendered. How did this happen? Stalingrad wasn't an important target, but Hitler wanted to destroy it mostly because of its name that comes from Stalin.... In conclusion, PRIDE destroyed them.

Decebal is anxious around Russians, although he does visit the country, mostly because of Ukraine and Belarus. Decebal is anxious around Russian's because of their history. One issue is that prior to World War I, the Romanians sent their gold reserves to Russia for safekeeping but the Russians did not return the gold after the war. Take it like this; Romania was an ally with Germany and Russia. The German's when they went to brothels, they brought flowers and chocolate, while the Russian beat and raped them. The Romanian women covered themselves with charcoal to make themselves ugly and unattractive to the Russians. Now, Decebal doesn't judge because of your nationality, but if you do prove you are like that, well.... Tough luck. Russia is a nation with power or strength as its national idea and they have repeatedly shown that they do not care about ideals like “legality” or “legitimacy” but respect force and military power only. This trait does not make you popular among your neighbors. Instead, you´re seen as an aggressive jackass who abuses and bullies others.

There are also many reasons why Decebal has anxiety towards Russians, all because of history. Romanians were forced to learn Russian. Romanians who are older still, almost universally, will tell you that they know one phrase in Russian: "Дайте часы!" ("Give me a watch!") Because that's what the Soviet liberating soldiers told every Romanian as they liberated them of their wrist watches (and anything else they fancied) when WW2 ended. Among other things that the Russians liberated from Romanians? The entire Romanian national treasure. Oh, and Moldova. Decebal has Moldovian blood running through his veins. Basically, Romania trusted Russia with its national treasure, Russia being an ally.

Decebal, if he is your ally, won't ever leave you on the battlefield, he is a 'go all the way or die' type. He's tired of how cowardice has affected his country and himself, so he is willing to fight till death. If you have strong beliefs and are passionate about something he will support them. Think of him as a shield of steel.

He hates the dictator-like attitude; he had to endure a lot of that shit and he is in no mood to listen to someone that thinks they're the big bad one just because they induce fear and brutality like an uneducated mindless jackass. Seriously, don't try to impose him with that kind of attitude because at some point his rage will come undone. There's a Romanian saying 'Mi-sa umplut paharul', which basically means that he won't take your shit anymore. Decebal is as scary as he is friendly. You don't wanna see this guy get into that mood. When he gets angry, which rarely happens, there's a cold wind that hits the nape of your neck, a dead silence that makes you wonder what will happen and a shadow casts his face, his almost white eyes illuminating under that shadow. Short story.... If you're the unlucky soul that has angered him, your body will be turned into shish kebab.... very tiny pieces and he will do that oh so slowly.

Getting over these dark vibes, Decebal is a music lover, one of the many things that keep his grin on and his eyes sparkling with life. He has an mp3 player with earphones in the pocket of his jacket and loves to listen to it during the most normal and abnormal times. He will listen to music at night while sitting on the roof of a house/building or..... He will fight with the earphones on and music blasting. He sings, and he is pretty good at it.

Decebal has so many faces that it's hard to really put a label on him. Some see him as a very cultured gentleman with a charismatic personality that brightens every room he enters. Then there are the ones that describe him as a hooligan, a punk, a very vulgar and blunt person who has no shame and mercy. He is really just a way too honest misunderstood guy with a vertebral column that cannot be bend.

He is a guy that appreciates the little things life has to offer. Life during Romanian communism really imprinted on his life. Give him a little piece of bread and he will be grateful to you. The food ration during that time was harsh; no more than half a loaf of bread, not too much meat, or sugar, and so on. Food is a luxury in Decebal's eyes.

Decebal is more used to the night than day, mostly because all his life he spend it in darkness. He spent months in underground jails without seeing the light of the day, losing track of time. Plus the communist government cut off electricity from 6:00 - 8:00 pm each night across the country to preserve energy. He sees in darkness like a cat and his ears are very sensitive.

Decebal loves his home country very much because he knows how much potential this little country has. Romania is Europe’s richest country in gold resources, Romania boasts the world’s largest administrative building, The largest population of brown bears in Europe lives in Romania, The Statue of Decebalus in Orsova is Europe’s largest rock sculpture, The only gold museum in Europe is found in Romania and also Romania has one of the happiest cemeteries on Earth, a reason for why Decebal makes jokes even in the face of death. On each grave there, is written dark humor poetry. Here's an example:

Under this heavy cross

Lies my poor mother in-law

Three more days should she have lived

I would lie, and she would read (this cross).

You, who here are passing by

Not to wake her up please try

Cause’ if she comes back home

She’ll criticise me more.

But I will surely behave

So she’ll not return from grave.

Stay here, my dear mother in-law!

#Decebal Avram Chirilă #Slasher OCs #Original characters #Romanian OC #Killer OC #Headcanons

30 notes · View notes

flying-nightwing · 4 years

Text

Dark Fox (7/7)

Thank you to everyone who took the time to read Dark Fox! It was my first longer serie ever since my writing hiatus, and the first one I actually finished ever lmao. It was quite an adventure and I really enjoyed writing this persona. This is the last chapter to close the story. I hope you like it gang!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word Count: 6821

Warnings: usual

You hadn’t had a lazy morning in years, and you had all but forgotten how good it felt.

A single sun ray warmed the bed, making the temperature under the thin sheet just ideal. The slow, steady rise and fall of Jason’s chest under your head was soothing, as well as the random pattern his hand was drawing on your back. Usually, you’d have already trained and eaten by that time. Today, you had no intention of leaving the bed anytime soon. The last night had been spent fucking so many times in so many different ways, you were both exhausted and happier than before. Jason was even wilder than you remembered (or he got even better?), so much you were still riding the absolute high you had reached.

You traced his scars with your fingers; some old ones he had told you about, some you had put there yourself, and some others your had yet to know how he got them. You had a lot to catch up about.

“The last time we found ourselves like this,” You began, trailing your soft touch up and down the browned mark on his shoulder. It was as large as your sword, and a witness of the rocky beginning of your relationship. “I begged you to come back to the League with me”

He angled his head toward you. You could feel his eyes on you, half closed and relaxed as he’s even been. “But I begged you to follow me back here first”

It had been a heartbreaking moment. The build up of the unanswered question for a whole year had lead to there. None of you had wanted to talk about the time his training would be done, you had rather wanted to keep doing your stuff and ignore the impending separation. That morning hadn’t been unlike this one, with the sun coming through the hut and with you both on the hammock, naked and intertwined under the fur cover. He had broken the silence, asking you to forget the League and stay with him. Back then, you were so sure you could only reach Luthor through it. So you asked Jason to instead join the League at your side.

He had dressed up and left the hut, and you hadn’t heard from him from then until you crossed paths in Ukraine.

“I guess this is the fight you won” You smiled, flicking up your gaze to his. “Seeing as I’m here”

“The fight I won?” He raised his eyebrows. “Implying I didn’t win any other fight?”

“You did, but…” You teased, gently tapping your fingers up his collarbone. “Let’s face it, I still won most of them”

He gasped. “Excuse me?”

You smirked.

Before you could see him move, he rolled on top of you and caged you underneath him between his arms. His eyes were narrowed in indignation as he channeled his mean face on. It once might have worried you, but it had lost most of its purpose now. Especially since you were both naked.

“I’ve won plenty of fights against you” He sneered.

“Mhmm” You hummed, knowing all too well how he didn’t like to be challenged. You hadn’t poked at his pride in too long, so you couldn’t pass the occasion. “Sure you did”

“Have you forgotten what happens when the fighting range gets too small?”

You simply blinked.

“Or when I truly got angry? Or…”

You cocked your head to the side as he halted his words. Then, understanding flashed through his expression.

“You’re still riling me on purpose” He sighed.

“What did I like to say again?” You asked rhetorically, pausing for emphasis. “Ah, yes. When you’ll stop falling for it”

“I hate you”

“Don’t blame me for being such an easy target” You rolled your eyes. “Now come here”

“Bossy” He finally grinned. “I love it”

He lowered himself so his lips touched yours and kissed you softly. However, the moment didn’t last long, as his cell phone vibrated on the nightstand. You could feel the shift toward annoyance in his mood, and it only grew when the phone vibrated one more time, and another one after that. With a long sigh, he rolled off of you and to the side of his bed. He frowned, then all trace of displeasure at the interruption wiped off of his face.

“What is it?” You asked, peeking over his shoulder. He shut off the screen immediately.

“You’ll see” He chuckled. “Get dressed”

“Ooookay” You nodded slowly, watching him throw his legs on the side of the bed and reach for his shirt on the floor. You put on your clothes from the day before and went for the guest bedroom you had, changing into something clean. When you got out, Jason was waiting for you leaning on the doorframe.

“First though, breakfast”

You followed Jason, as you were still unfamiliar with the place. Sure, you had mapped the way from your room to the cave, and from the cave to every close escape around. But for the rest, you had barely the time or desire to explore. All this space was pointless to you, as you couldn’t figure out who would need all of this. However, it did provide a good way to avoid any Wayne during your stay, you’d give the manor this point.

But it didn’t allow you to avoid Bruce this time.

He caught you around a corner, and you three remained in a stare off for a few seconds. You knew it probably wouldn’t result in a fight, but your hand still hovered above the blade hidden at the back of your waistband.

“I think you have overstayed your welcome here”

Jason gritted his teeth, but you remained calm. You had expected this.

“I will be gone by tonight” You replied on a neutral tone, then pulled Jason with you to side step him.

“One more thing”

You halted your steps in the doorframe to the next room, turning your head to look at him. He hadn’t moved.

“I don’t want to see you in my city again”

“You must be fucking kidding me” Jason yelled, but you held up your arm to stop him from marching back to Bruce.

“Absolutely not” He turned to face you. “Ever since she’s came, she has conveniently disclosed very precise information on the weapon’s whereabouts, except when it mattered. And hid her family ties to Luthor”

“You think she’s working with him?” He scoffed.

“I don’t know, is she?”

Jason glanced at you, about to reply something, but you just shook your head at him. It was pointless to try and convince Bruce Wayne, especially since you knew your word could never overturn your suspicious behaviour. He rolled his eyes and walked away, and you were about to follow him before you paused.

“I’m not” You spoke up, and you could feel Bruce’s eyes on your back. “If you must know, I’ve come here to kill him, and I don’t need your permission for that”

With that, you walked away, not waiting for an answer from Bruce. You joined Jason in the kitchen, who was already working on cooking oatmeal. His jaw was still clenched, and his posture tense.

“I can’t believe the fucking audacity” He grumbled.

“He is entitled to his opinion of me” You shrugged and leaned on the counter next to him. “I don’t really care what he thinks about my intentions”

“Still” He sighed. “Are you still planning on finishing your mission?”

You crossed your arms against your torso and furrowed your eyebrows. You could just leave Batman and the others take care of it, and leave them to deal with Luthor. But again, you hadn’t came all this way to just give up.

“Bruce was very clear on his stance about me remaining involved in this shitshow” You hummed, before glancing up at Jason. “But we do have a bio weapon to stop, and I’m far from done with Luthor”

His disappointment morphed into a grin at your words. “Attagirl, that’s what I like to hear”

“I most certainly don’t like to leave things unfinished” The corner of your lips lifted. “You okay with going against Batman’s orders?”

“Oh my dear” He chuckled as he poured the oatmeal in two bowls. He glanced at you with an excited glint in his eyes. “Nobody has a better record of disobeying him than I do”

“Good”

He put a spoon in each bowl and handed you one. “Now we need to have a game plan for what’s next”

“Any idea?”

“I sure have” His grin widened. “I want to show you something”

He motioned you to follow him as he ate his oatmeal mid walk. He got down to the cave and led you to a small side room, where he grabbed the tablet on the table. You slowly ate your breakfast as you watched him press buttons and mumble to himself. Then, he turned to you.

“You ready?”

You nodded, unsure of what he was talking about. He dramatically pressed one more button, making the wall in front of you turn on itself with a woosh. Your eyes widened as you took in the content of the compartment.

“So?”

You blinked at glanced at Jason. Your grin slowly stretched to match his.

“Oh yeah” You nodded again, this time, with way more assurance. “This will definitely do”

----

Jason heard Bruce coming from miles away.

Even if he technically didn’t, his course of action was so predictable that the Bat’s dramatic landing on the rooftop behind him was no surprise at all.

“I thought I had made myself clear”

Jason stood up from his crouched position and turned to face him, arms crossed against his chest. “You did”

“Then what are you doing here?” He sighed in annoyance.

“Well obviously you’re blaming your wrong intel and failures on someone who has nothing to do with it, which is a classic you” He taunted. “So we’re here to finish the job. Her and I really do work well together, thanks for noticing”

“Red Hood” He warned.

“Batman” He mimicked.

Someone landing next to them grabbed their attention.

“Red Robin” Tim announced himself under Bruce’s hard glance and Jason’s amused one.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I knew something was up when I didn’t see Foxy in the cage all day” He explained. “So I followed you here. By the way, where is she?”

As if on cue, a shadow dropped behind them. The movement did no go unnoticed, and as if on instinct, Tim spun around and threw a shuriken. His expression quickly changed as he realized who was in front of him.

There you were, still crouched from your landing and holding his shuriken mid air inches away from your face. You were smirking under your mask as Tim stared at you in disbelief.

“Twice” You spoke as you stood up fully. His eyes quickly scanned you from head to toes, almost overseeing you handing him back his shuriken. “Twice you have thrown one of these at me”

“Where’s the League suit?” He asked, slowly taking back his small weapon. “And you’re stupid bow?”

You shrugged, sharing a knowing glance with Jason. “I thought it was time for a change”

Then, understanding washed across his face. “Oh, oh my. You’ve dropped the League”

He did another once over. You had ditched the heavy coat for a lightweight suit made of silk and leather, with armored plastic on the stomach, the upper arms and the back. The arm bracers had smaller spikes than the previous ones, and you no longer wore a heavy mask. Instead, you had only kept your half mask and wore a hooded robe crossing on your torso. Your grappling hook was now in your utility belt, and your arrows were replaced with sharper, more volatile darts kept in a sheath on your thigh. You now had 25 regular darts, five explosive and your two classic sedatives. Only your sword remained on your back, so it would “unclog your aesthetic”, as Jason had put it.

You did like it better like that, the bow wasn’t your style anyway.

The new gear was still all black, for the exception of a silver kitsune draw into the back of the armor that would show if you took off the robe. It was comfortable and flexible, and resistant to bullets and stabbing. Jason had hit the target right on with the design.

“Do you keep your wrist shooter?” He asked, squinting his eyes.

You raised your arm and shot over his shoulder to prove your point. He caught the small arrow mid air, nodding impressively.

“Still the best part of the suit” He muttered to himself.

“I thought you said you’d be gone” Bruce cut in. Your eyes went to him.

“I still have a couple of hours” You replied without missing a beat.

“Talking about” Jason said. “Your time window just opened”

“You can either help us or stay out of the way” You told Bruce as you adjusted you comm. “But this is happening regardless”

He didn’t speak right away, taking a moment to ponder your words. Then, he voiced his thoughts. “Are you going to kill him?”

You held eye contact for a few seconds more before taking off. You ran along the ledge and jumped on the next building, then letting yourself slide down the fire escape. You chose not no reply to him, as you didn’t need to give him another reason to come after you. Granted, not replying was practically the equivalent of giving a positive answer, but at least it could give you the benefit of the doubt for what it was worth.

Using the shadows of the city, you quickly made your way through the blocks by the back alleys until you reached the imposing tower in the middle of the Diamond district, the same building you and Tim had sacked for show barely a week before. Whatever damage you had done, it didn’t show anymore. It was like nothing had happened.

This time, you came in by the front door. The second you walked through the glass doors, all activity stopped. You took a few step forward, and four guards met you halfway in the lobby. Without a word, they escorted you past the front desk and through the metal detector going off like crazy. Anytime you could have easily gotten rid of them, but you held back for now. You waited a short time for the elevator, then got in and up to Luthor’s floor. He was waiting for you by the window, and turned around with a smirk once you got in his office. You pulled back your hood and unclasped your mask.

“I see you’ve got a new look” He pointed out. “Changed your mind about the league?”

“Something like that”

“Well, I’m most certainly pleased to see you’ve decide to do the right thing” He took a step forward. “This is where you belong”

Slowly, you reached for your sword and took it out. A shadow passed across his face, and nodded to something behind you. Or rather, someone. You dropped to a crouch to avoid the tazer being stuck in your back--once was enough--and thrusted your sword in the legs of the guys around you. You rolled forward and shot the four guards coming your way, before jumping on the desk and holding them in your aim. Luthor now had four new guards around, letting you know more would come if he needed. You reloaded your crossbow.

“I’m disappointed” He revealed with a sigh. “Those were good men”

“Let it be a reminder I can and will take them all out if they're in my way” You twirled your sword. “Step forward and none of them die with you tonight”

“How noble” He chuckled, not concerned at all. His hand rested in his pocket and his stance was relaxed. “Did your boyfriend with the red helmet tell you to do that?”

You shot an arrow to his knee, but he easily side stepped it like he had predicted that move. He raised an eyebrow.

“I see” He hummed. “But I had expected you would deny your destiny. So I decided to help you make a choice”

Four more men came in the room and ran at you. You vaulted over them and landed behind them, taking them by surprise. Before the could fully turn around, they were on the ground. You wiped your sword in the crook of your elbow and faced Luthor again. He was watching, unwavering, almost out of the door. He was stalling, that was clear, but you didn’t know for what yet. He smirked again, and you knew he’d finally reveal his thoughts.

“Now I know you won’t back down like last time” He taunted, and your jaw clenched. “So I guess you can come at me now, tear through my guards and get to me…”

You narrowed your eyes, knowing there was something more coming. He wouldn’t make it that easy for you to get to him.

“But like I said, I had expected trouble from you, like your mother before you” He sighed sarcastically. “So I prepared a backup plan. I decided to launch my weapon sooner and instead use it elsewhere, since you forced my hand. In twenty minutes, it will discharge quite literally the plague in the city aqueduct”

You tensed, your hand going to your ear to your comm and turning it on.

“Ah, I don’t think telling your friends will work” He tsked. “The only way to stop it is through my genetic code”

“Therefore mine” You concluded.

“Smart” He mocked. “Yes. So you can either kill me here and get it over with, or you can run around and save a bunch of people, and miss your shot. Again. But you don’t have the time to do both, I’m afraid”

You calculated his ultimatum, and he was right. If he kept the men coming, it would be enough to stall you too long for you to go from the diamond district to the aqueduct. He had planned this move carefully, knowing he’d get a win in either case.

“Don’t worry, the cure is ready to go, there won’t be much casualties” He brushed off. “You came here to kill me, didn’t you?”

You flexed your fingers on the hilt of your sword.

“Do it” He challenged. “That’s what you are. You were made to finish what you started, to stop at nothing to get what you want. This is how I made you, even if I disapprove what you’ve done with my gifts. So go ahead, kill me and prove me right”

He was almost in your face now, staring right at you. You straightened your back and levelled up with him, feeling something strange, yet not unwelcomed, swelling in your chest. You thought about Jason and what he said, about those civilians you saved from a certain death, and about the man in front of you. Seeing him from so close, you realized every ounce of anger you held toward Luthor was… Gone. You thought with him so close you would be tempted to fight him, but all you could feel was indifference. He didn’t matter to you anymore, he never should have. He represented your insecurities, and tried to drag you down with him to excuse his own failure in making you a copy of himself. You became aware he was a pointless chase, and you had better things to do than indulge in it.

“I’m the Dark Fox” You jutted your chin up, squaring up your shoulders. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do”

You turned around and jumped over the desk, grabbing an explosive arrow and throwing it in the window. You jumped through as it exploded, plunging down the building. You pulled out your grappling line and hooked it on your shooter, then aimed for the roof. It slowed your fall midway, and you used your glove to slow yourself down.

As your feet touched the ground, you saw Jason’s motorcycle pull in in front of the building. You put back your sword in its sheath and your mask on your face, then your hood up.

“Aqueduct, we’ve got fifteen minutes” You spoke as you climbed on the bike.

“Yep, I heard everything” He had a grin in his voice. Yet, he didn’t go yet.

“What?”

“I am so fucking proud of you”

You felt your neck heat up as you looked down, even if he couldn’t see you, in fact, you were glad he couldn’t. You never knew his praise would make you react that way, or that you would be so important for you to hear it.

“And for the record” He added. “It was very hot, too”

“Fucking hell, Jay, go!”

“Fine” He sighed and sped away from there.

“Okay so what is your thing with jumping out of windows?” Tim said through your comm. You had no idea he had stayed.

“It makes me feel less dead” You replied, and Jason audibly laughed.

“You madwoman”

“Since you’re here, I have a task for you” You said. “Could you pull out the files on the weapon and figure out how the failsafe works?”

“I’m already on it”

Then, a bullet barely grazed your shoulder. The sound followed closely after, but it was like in slow motion. You raised your arm to protect Jason's shoulder, letting the bullet hit your arm brace instead. Reacting quickly, you turned around facing backwards and shot an arrow through the gun aimed at you. You then noticed five motorcycles following you, probably tasked with taking you down.

“What’s going on? How many?”

“Keep driving” You ordered. “I’ll take care of this”

You shot another arrow, but it bounced on the body of the motorcycles, and from your position you couldn’t aim elsewhere. You emptied your arrows to get one good shot, and it was enough to take one down. But looking at your recharges, you only had ten darts left, and potentially more people to take down around the bomb. You looked down, then up again to the guns aimed at you.

“Fuck it”

You reached for one of Jason’s gun on his thigh and clicked the safety off. Then, you shot.

“Holy shit” Jason yelled, and you could only imagine his expression. “HOLY SHIT”

“Did… Did Foxy just use a gun?”

“I wish I could have seen that” He whined. “I am so turned on right now”

“Too much information Jaybird”

You clicked the safety back on and turned around again, then slipped the gun back in his holster.

“I thought you thought guns were disgraceful”

“I kind of still do” You smirked under your mask. “So don’t get used to it”

“You’ll at least do it once when I look, right?”

“Hmm, maybe” You hummed.

“Aww, aren’t you two the cutest”

“Shut up Tim” Jason warned.

“Alright then, I won’t tell you what I found on turning off the weapon”

“Speak, Tim” You contradicted Jason’s order.

“First you have to apologize for throwing me out of a window”

You thought for a moment before answering. “No”

“Then no intel”

You sighed.

“Let’s compromise then” You suggested. “I will not apologize because I am not sorry, but for the intel and not telling on me after you found out who I was, I will consider not pushing you out of a window again”

There was silence radio, then he spoke again. “Good enough for me. There should be a code pad, I decrypted it and the code is 0000. Yes I know, but then you’ll see a slit, and you gotta put your left hand in it. It’ll read pulse, heat, fingerprints, and more. Since you should share all of this with Luthor, it’ll stop. Or it’ll explode, that was unclear”

“Well that’s reassuring” Jason grumbled.

“Alright, we’re almost there” You rolled your eyes. “Thanks”

“See ya later”

You turned off your comm and reloaded your shooter minutes before Jason pulled in the aqueduct yard. He parked his bike and you both easily climbed the barbed wire fence, and even though the place looked deserted, you remained careful. Luthor wouldn’t have left his device without surveillance. You grabbed your sword and fell in step behind Jason, who had his guns up. Then, he halted his steps and held a hand for you to do the same. You had this feeling you were being watched, and you could only imagine he had it too.

“Get ready” Just as he said that, bullets began raining over you. “Go find the weapon, I’ll cover you!”

You held an arm up to protect your face and disappeared into the darkness. You kept running along the walls of the building, allowing you to get in undetected. You reached the main water room, where you could see from the upper platform about eight guards surrounding the very device you had been hunting. The countdown indicated 2:37, so you had no time to lose.

You jumped over the ramp and landed quietly on your feet behind the men. You approached the first one and swung your sword around to let it rest on his neck. You used him as a shield as the other guards noticed you, blocking their bullets. You raised your arm and shot your five darts at them. You pushed the dead man off of you and faced the two remaining guards, taking a fighting stance and swirling your sword at them. Before they could start shooting again, you lunged and knocked their guns out of their hands. They kept fighting around you, trying to get to you with punches and kicks. But they were sloppy and predictable, and even after one fetched a small blade from his belt, they were no match for you. You glanced at the countdown, and it almost reached the one minute mark. Your eyes then trailed on the two guards around you, still trying to get the upper hand. They both extended their arms at the same time for a hit, so you dropped to a crouch.

Like you did during training with Bruce and Damian, you sweeped your sword in a quick motion. Unlike them, however, your current opponent weren’t quick nor skilled. The blade of your katana sliced their knees, making them collapse on the ground. You quickly reloaded your last round of arrows and sheathed your sword, then made your way to the device. You easily found the locked pad and entered the code, then pulled off your glove and stuck your hand in the slit. You pressed the button and watched as the biometrical scan began.

You heard noise behind you as backup reached the room, and without taking your hand out, you turned your body and aimed. The first five men fell, but there were still five coming your way, so you reached for your shurikens in your belt. But you didn’t get to take them out as other, all too familiar shaped shurikens reached the goons first. You sent a deadpan look at where you noticed none other than Red Robin standing there smugly.

“Oof, I hope you didn’t have dibs on them”

“I had it handled” You replied.

“I’m sure you did” He smirked as he walked past you and took a look at the countdown, then at the weapon. His expression turned grim. “Twenty seconds”

The scanner was still working.

“If it doesn’t work, you’ll have to slice the pipe off” You said, analysing the situation. Cutting the water and flooding the building would bring less casualties than letting the virus flow in the water system.

“What!?”

The system unlocked. You quickly entered the command to stop, and the countdown halted. You pulled your hand back and put on your glove again, then grabbed an explosive arrow. You planted the dart in the slit and backed up, pushing Tim with you. Soon enough, it went off and the weapon went up in smoke.

“Phew, that was close” He blinked. “Well played”

“Motherfucking Dark Fox!” Jason dropped from the platform at his turn. His helmet was off and he had a wide grin on his face. “That’s what I call making a difference! The League could never”

“That was really cool” He nodded in approval. “By the way, what happened to, you know..?”

“Did you do it?” Jason’s eyes were now on you, his grin not so intense now.

“He’s gone” You said, but it didn’t help ease the questions in their eyes. “As in, I don’t know where he is. I let him flee to come here instead”

Jason’s eyes widened. “And you’re fine with this?”

You shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me anymore. His time will come, like everyone else. I just won’t be involved when it does”

“That was unexpected” He whistled. “But hey, what goes for you goes for me. Love the new mentality”

“Killing him was what the League would have wanted”

“That’s nice. Good choice” Tim nodded. “So you’ll stay here then?”

“Well, not here, since bats and foxes apparently don’t get along” You snorted as you unclasped your mask and pulled back your hood. “But I’ll be around”

“About that, how does Blüdhaven sounds?” Jason chimed in again, sliding a hand around your shoulder. You raised your eyebrows at him “I’ve got a pretty nice place there, and it’s technically not Gotham”

“That won’t be necessary” A deep voice came from behind you. You glanced over your shoulder where the massive shadow of Batman stood. “I’ve seen you work tonight. You acted good, I can allow you to stay in Gotham as the Dark Fox”

Jason coughed in surprise as you blinked, then turned around.

“Thank you” You began, nodding respectfully. Jason’s wide glance was now directed to you. “But no thanks. Besides, I still don’t need your blessing to stay, or to be me”

Bruce stared at you blankly, not moving or commenting. Your guess was that he wasn’t expecting this answer, or at least not delivered this way.

“Oh, B” Jason mocked as he put back his helmet. “Nice try. Anyway, we should get out of here before the cops show up”

You put back up your mask and hood and followed Jason out, waving at Tim on your way out. You left the aqueduct and waited until you were further into the city before ditching the bike and finding a rooftop to station yourself on, just in case you were being followed. The masks and helmets came off once again, and you took a moment to breathe the air from up there. It was a clear night, with a good wind chasing the clouds away. Jason observed the city lights with you, crouched on the ledge. Then, you heard quiet shuffling behind you. You spun around, then held Jason back when he was about to lunge. You kept your eyes on the outline of the figure in the shadows, knowing all too well who it belonged to. You took a few steps forward.

“You look different” Talia smiled. “A good different. I’m glad you finally found yourself”

“Thank you” You lowered your head. “For allowing me”

“I only want the best for you” She stepped closer to you, her smile never wavering. “Has he taken good care of you?”

You both glanced at Jason for a moment, and you chuckled. “He has. He was gentler than I’ve been to him”

“I figured he would” She winked. “You two were meant to be”

Your smile dropped as you looked down. Surely, she would know what it meant. Her sympathetic eyes fell on you and her hand rested on your shoulder. You had chosen to part with the League, therefore, with her. It would be the hardest part for you.

“You don’t have to explain” She reassured. “I knew this would come to this, and I am here to free you”

Your eyes shot up.

“I talked with my father” She explained. “Seeing your unwavering service for all these years, he has agreed to relieve you from your duties to the League. All he asks in exchange is for you to remain out of the League’s affairs, and he gave his word he will not come against you or your family”

“Really?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Her smile was encouraging as she nodded at you. Slowly, you took off the black robe, exposing the silver fox on your back. Then you took out your sword from the sheath in your hands, kneeled and offered it to her. She took it and held it upright in front of you, just like the day you had been initiated in the League.

“In the name of Ra’s al Ghul, I release Thaelib fi alzalam from her servitude to the League of Assassins” She spoke. “Your debt has been paid and your bounds are no more. Rise”

You got back on your feet, your breathing hitching in your throat. You reached for your sword in her extended arm, looked down at it and putting it away again.

“Thank you”

“You’re very welcome” Her hand went to your cheek. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I will be there for you”

“And I for you” You gave her a genuine smile. She offered her arm, and you took it at the elbow like she did. Your foreheads touched for a few seconds before you pulled away with a step back.

“It was nice to see you again, Jason”

“You too, Talia” He nodded with a small curve on the corner of his lips.

“Take care, children” She said before disappearing in the darkness again.

Jason approached you and took your hand, gently pulling your around to face him. He had this glint in his eyes, it was full of relief and happiness like you had never seen on him. To be honest, you were feeling the same way. It was like a burden had been lifted off of your shoulders, and you had never felt lighter. Sure, it brought you uncertainty to navigate without the League’s guiding hand, one you had relied on for most of your life, but it felt right. You knew Jason would help you like you had helped him, and things would start to look up from now.

“So, what now?”

“I don’t know” You chuckled. “It’s the first time I don’t need to follow any agenda. I’m kind of lost”

“Ah, this calls for the return of Teacher Todd” He grinned. “Lesson number two, you get to learn what fun and freedom taste like”

----

The grass was high as your mid thigh and small bugs swarmed up with every step forward you took. You didn’t mind though, you prefered it ten folds to the smog of Gotham.

For Jason, however, it was a different story.

He was sweating and grunting, and even if he was behind you, you knew he was getting annoyed by the flies and mosquitoes around. He was swatting his hand wildly and you could tell he was slightly regretting sharing his suggestion to you. The sun was high, and even for the end of the summer it was surprisingly hot.

“Ugghhh”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t stop.

“Are we there soon?” He asked. “Jeez I had forgotten how far was that thing”

“Come on, stop lying to yourself” You teased as you spotted a familiar path up a small hill. “You like this”

He scoffed. “It reminds me of my ass being kicked”

“As I said” You smirked over your shoulder, and he raised his eyebrows at you.

You climbed up the small hill and came face to face with a small, half decaying structure with the roof caved in by the elements. Moss and grass was growing on the outside of the round walls, but the feeling of home you had subconsciously associated with it was very much intact. Jason stopped behind you, his annoyance completely gone and replaced by fondness over the sight in front of him. There were so many memories tied to the small hut, some bad but mostly good, and it was like you could feel them all at once. You dropped your bag on the ground and took a deep breath.

“So, was the trek up here worth it?”

“Fuck yes” He sighed in amazement, his eyes never leaving the hut. “I missed this place so much”

“Even if we had to work hard for survival?”

“Being here alone with you far outweighed any inconvenience this place brings” He stepped closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist. Who would have ever thought? His nose nuzzled on your neck and your relaxed in his arms. “We’ll still have to do a bit of renovation around though”

“I hope you’ll help me this time” You looked up at him innocently. Last time you had built the hut alone before Talia had brought Jason, and even if he had been there, you would have absolutely not trusted him to help you with anything

“But you’re so hot when you work” He pouted. “I wanna watch and enjoy the view”

“And how would you make up all that work to me?” You asked, then you felt him smile on your skin. A smile full of mischief and promises.

“Oh, I have plenty of ideas”

“Oh me too” You grinned, stepping out of his arms, then you winked at him and disappeared in the hut. Only one hammock was still up, the other had fallen on the ground due to broken ropes. Stones of the small fireplaces were kicked in and weeds were growing around. The kitchen supplies were scattered around the makeshift shelf, but otherwise the place seemed to have been left untouched by human activity. Jason followed suit and took in the damages.

“Do you think we can still both get onto this hammock without the ropes breaking?” He asked, side glancing at you. You rubbed your chin in wonder, then hummed.

“There is only one way to know for sure” You tilted your head to the side. You nodded at each other and he walked around you, with you in tow. He carefully lowered himself first, then opened his arms for you. You joined him, and waited for a few second to test the resistance of the ropes. You heard them creaking and straining, but you were still hanging. You relaxed, and barely a second after, the ropes snapped.

In a blink, you were on the ground, and both of your weights made the wood give in. You ended up in the dirt, directly on the forest floor. yOu remained in silence for a moment blinking at each other.

“Well” You sighed. “The hammock could not support us both”

“Alright, there is a lot to do” He conceded. “How about you fix this baby, and I’ll gather the wood for the fire, hunt dinner and get the herbs for tea?”

“That’s more like it” You said as you stood up and dusted off your pants. You offered a hand to Jason and you pulled him up with you. “Do you remember where are the bows and arrows?”

“In the bark of the oak facing the boulder, yeah”

“Good” You chuckled. “I wasn’t sure you’d get it right”

“Come on” He groaned playfully. “I was quite a good student”

“Oh not at all” You laughed, taking a step in his personal space and looking up at him. “The worst, actually. You’re lucky you learned fast, or we’d still be there”

“Then I should have dragged my training on purpose” His lips hovered above yours. “You’d still be my incredibly unforgiving yet very hot teacher, and I your wild, stubborn and irresistible student”

“Hmm, does another sword in your shoulder sound good?”

“Only if I get to face you hand to hand”

“You’ve got yourself a deal” You whispered, before backing away abruptly. He blinked in confusion. “But it’ll have to wait. It’s almost sundown and we need to be installed by then. So get your sweet ass out there and stop distracting me here”

He sighed. “Why do I like it so much when you order me around?”

“I have no idea” You tapped his chest. “But the quicker we prepare everything, the sooner we can go to the lake for a swim under the stars”

He perked up at that, and with wide, excited eyes, he shot out of the hut faster than you could register. You chuckled and leaned on the threshold, lazily crossing your arms against your chest and taking a deep breath. You stared outside for a moment, enjoying the breeze and the sound of nature surrounding you. It was peaceful and beautiful, taking it in fully.

Then, you got to work.

162 notes · View notes

scribbling-stiks · 3 years

Text

Retrievers - XLIX - Blood Red

Russia smells the air for anything new, no matter how fruitless the action feels. He also keeps his magic glowing so he can keep an eye on the strange ball of static skirting around the edge of his sense. He closes his eyes and reopens them with the valve open. The magic glowing in his nose shimmers away and he stares past the leaves.

A blob of dark blue magic swirls around just inside the treeline. Russia watches it from behind the rocky wall. America's magic is closer and dull. Russia tries to ignore his worry at the dull sky blue. Then, the branches next to him begin to shift against his fur, picking and prodding him roughly enough to draw blood. Russia spins around and hisses at the blob.

Finland shuffles quickly and pulls everyone against Russia's back.

'Good. You need to hide them.'

He feels his group condense and crouch behind him. He glances back to see them laying over each other, trying to hide from outside view. America glances up at Russia with a wary but trusting look.

'I will protect you and our kids.'

The phrase still strikes Russia strangely, but he doesn't have time to give it any more thought. He resists the urge to jump to his feet when the night sky becomes visible again. Russia's whiskers catch the cold wind. Russia's fur puffs up and it gets partially pressed back by people trying to hide in it. Russia decides it's for the best.

He hisses loudly. He closes the valve and sees a heavily bundled person he could bite in half staring up at him. On the person's jacket is The Revolution symbol. Russia snarls and spits.

The person looks at him and then around him into the cave.

Russia's heart drops.

'Does he see anyone?'

Russia reaches out and slashes at the bundled person. The person jumps back with a shout. Then, the person slinks forward again.

"Why aren't you moving, bitch?" the guard, who sounds male, shouts, pointing a gun nozzle at Russia's nose.

Russia's eyes narrow, but the shapes pressing against his side keep him grounded. His tail wags in the air and his claws dig into the dirt.

"What the fuck are you-" a voice asks from around the corner.

Another guard peaks around and shrieks. Electricity runs down Russia's spine.

"Why the fuck are you fucking with that thing?"

"It's not moving!" the first barks, waving his gun at Russia's face.

"Maybe that's better for us! You've seen the shit that's been crawling out of the pit!" the second scolds, grabbing the first and marching away.

"Let me find out what's in that cave!"

"The only thing you'll find is death!"

The two march away. Russia's fur bristles at the cold wind blasting his face. Russia growls after them. Their scent carries on the wind, and Russia's eyes are trained in the direction they left in.

Once the scent fades, Russia's fur falls. His ears perk up again and he tucks his tail under his body. He feels most of the teens and a few adults disbursing around the cave, and he feels grateful for it.

His nose and ears tingle with the cold. Then, warm hands press against him. He turns and sees America pulling himself up.

Russia lowers his head to reach America's chest, and America holds the sides of his face for balance. The wind cools the space and Florida shivers against him. Mexico presses into his side.

"Thank you," America says, a teary smile on his face.

Russia meows, confused.

'What are you sad about?'

Russia very gently nuzzles America's chest, concern blooming in his chest. America laughs quietly. The wind howls outside and pushes into Russia's fur.

"You shouldn't have to shield us like this," America says, petting Russia's face.

Russia purrs happily at the contact.

'What if I want to?'

"I don't know what you're talking about. I could take them," Ukraine comments, crossing his arms.

'No, you could not, you idiot.'

Russia glares at his brother in disapproval.

"Most of us are not in the shape to fight," Kansas replies calmly, "so you wouldn't have almost any backup."

"You know, I could take them to," Ohio comments, "but I know that some of my siblings aren't up to defending themselves, so I'd rather keep them safe than fight."

Ukraine hums and sits back against a cave wall, rubbing his arms.

"<Okay.>"

"Thank you," America says, relieved.

"<You can understand me?>"

"Yeah? What's so weird about it?"

Ukraine looks around, absolutely baffled.

"Dad understands lots of things," South Dakota comments.

"Wait," Ukraine says, swapping to English, "How many comments do you understand during meetings?"

"All of them," America says with a smirk.

"Huh."

America laughs, but his laughter trails off. America heaves and kisses Russia's face just above his nose. Russia rubs against America, and America stumbles back. America falls on his back, his head hitting the wall.

Russia's heart skips a beat and he yanks his head back.

'I knocked you over! Are you okay? Shit!'

Russia leans over as far as he can without jostling too many people and sniffs America.

'You're not bleeding.'

Then, America swats at Russia's face. Russia recoils, purring to help calm his panic.

"I'm okay! I'm okay, Ruby. It's okay."

Russia slowly leans forward and lightly brushes against America's leg, trying to apologize. America pulls himself against the rock wall and limps up to Russia. Russia turns away.

"Hey," America coos, scratching Russia's chin.

Russia leans into it for a moment before pulling away.

'I don't want to hurt you.'

"Rue-Rue?"

Russia shyly looks up again, his head lowering to the ground. America kneels down and meets Russia's gaze. America smoothes back Russia's whiskers and scratches just behind them. Calm fills his mind. He resists pressing into America for warmth and affection.

'He still smells nice.'

"Ruby, you don't have to be afraid of hurting me. It's okay."

Russia purrs sadly.

America sighs. Russia closes his eyes.

'I'm sorry.'

America lays out on Russia's face, hugging him around his cheeks. America hums with his head between Russia's ears. Russia's eyes go wide with surprise.

"I trust you. It's okay. And I'm a lot tougher than you think," America promises, "besides, I know you don't mean to hurt me. It's okay. And I was going to fall over anyway cuz the whole missing toes thing is fucking with my balance."

'I could seriously injure you. You still trust me? You still want to be around me?'

America's aroma covers the smell of the bloody pine needles stuck to Russia's side. He purrs again, happier this time, and America giggles. Russia stretches out his front paws, trying not to knock anyone over. America kisses the top of Russia's head before sliding off.

America stumbles, and Russia helps him catch himself.

"We just need to get home and we'll figure all of this out," America assures, "we are going to be okay."

Table of Contents

1 note · View note

littlemissmarvelous · 4 years

Text

Queen of the Night

I've bandaged your bruises

You've held back my hair

Who'd've known when this started

That we'd end up here, here?

But you reach out and touch me

Say my name like a prayer

You giggle as his hands caress your sides as you stitch the gash on his forehead closed. He smiles at your giggle and proceeds to let his hands find your ass.

“Bucky baby I need to fix your stitches and THEN you can touch me however you want. But I really need to focus, love.” You hum.

The mission had been okay, both you and Bucky came out okay besides the cuts and of course his gaping gash on his forehead from a hit to the head. You escaped with a bulletwound to your shoulder but Helen had already taken initiative and began treatment. There was still some pain and blood but with another session and some more stitches you’d be fine. That bulletwound turned out to be exactly why Bucky got his gash. He had been so upset that someone had the audacity to shoot his girl that he saw red and he went in full fight mode. He still won, of course, but not unscathed.

Finally done with the stitches you dab them to wipe away blood and smile. “All done!” He didn’t waste another second before picking you up and taking you to the bed, throwing your body on top of it as you fight giggles. He quickly gets on top of you and grins, his hair surrounding your face like a halo. He blue eyes meet y/e/c and he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Your smile, your laugh, your beauty...he thanked god for gracing him with an angel. After all that he is done in his long life, he didn’t think he could ever deserve to be blessed with someone to love him for who he is, but He was proven wrong when he met you.

Who knew you’d end up here? You were the other assassin amongst Natasha who also experienced part of the red room, but had received super serum to make things even more precise and strong. You’d escaped before they could perform the graduation ceremony, and you lived years on your own traveling Europe. That was, until you happened to run into good old Steve Rogers who just so happened to be on the run too. You had thought you were doomed, you had a lot of red in your ledger and didn’t have the standings that Nat did. But instead he saw you fight against an agent and pulled you to the side and asked you to join his group. He promised you protection and a new life, no more hiding when this all blew over. You took the offer no questions asked, a way out is a way out. He guided you to his safe house where a tall dark man stood at the stove, his face going in shock at the sight of a new person.

“Um okay, do you want to explain?” Sam asks.

Steve motions to you and replies, “This is Y/n L/n.”

His spatula drops onto the floor and his jaw drops onto the floors. He quickly undoes to apron he has on and shuts off the stove before standing in front of you. “Holy crap, I’ve heard of you. You caused a lot of problems for me back in the army when you went through our troops like butter in Ukraine. But I have never seen such clean work and absolute stealth before in my life. Not even Bucky or Nat.” His voice is higher with his excitement and his smile is almost taking up his entire face. You blush and shy away at the compliment. You weren’t exactly proud of everything you’ve done but you could admit you were darn good. He holds out his hand for you to shake and you take it. “Nice to meet you y/n, I’m Sam.”

You shake his hand softly. “Nice to meet you Sam,” you say and then ask, “who’s Bucky?”

Steve frowns and asks, “ever heard of the winter soldier?” At the mention of that name your hand goes to the sword holsters at your hip and prepare to draw.

“He’s here?! Where?!”

“Uh, here.” You hear behind you and you turn. At the sight of the metal arm your instincts kick in and both swords are drawn and your body is in battle mode.

“Woah, hold it!” Steve steps between the two of you cautiously, though Bucky is just standing there unmoving. “I need you to understand y/n. This is Bucky, he isn’t the winter soldier anymore.”

Your body straightens but you’re still hesistant. “How do you know? He could still be inside him.” You hiss.

Bucky then steps past Steve to address you. “The trigger words still may work but I promise the guy in front of you is just me. James Buchanan Barnes.” You grit your teeth and think to yourself. It was a tough decision but you placed your swords back in their sheaths and stood up straight.

“I am not who i was before either. So I must give you a chance.” You state, your eyes piercing his. Bucky relaxes his face into a smile for which you surprisingly return.

Bucky flashes back to the present, his body still hovering over yours. “Y/n..” he whispered your name almost like a prayer. Your hands find his face and pull him into a kiss. His hands are all over then and you both lose yourselves in eachother, passion almost making your blood boil.

All my friends say you're dangerous

But I don't fucking care

“Look y/n, all I am saying is that I completely understand that you’re a badass avenger now, but I just don’t think you’re making a great choice.” Your friend from childhood Amy said, her eyes full of concern.

You frown and ask, “what do you mean?”

“I mean...I mean I think you trusting and dating Bucky is just a really bad idea. He has done some really bad things, especially to your friends.” She admits meekly.

“You know that wasn’t him, Amy. That was the winter soldier, for which isn’t Bucky. Not anymore.” You reply.

“How do you know? What’s to say he won’t go AWOL again? Or kill you in a trance just because you’re in the same bed?”

“Because I trust him! Just like you should trust me!” You stand from the table and glare down at her. It was near betrayal how one of the few closest to you can’t seem to trust you or support your happiness for once. “I think it’s best I get back to the compound now.” You turn to leave only to hear her call after you.

“Don’t blame me if he kills you. And don’t come to me if he hurts you and you don’t have anywhere to go.” You stop in your tracks immediately.

“Do me a favor and delete my number and never contact me again. I’ll make sure to let tony know you aren’t allowed near the tower or compound, and better yet within 1,000 yards away of me.” You sneer and continue your leave.

It hurt but you didn’t need anyone that wasn’t with you completely by your side. You were used to standing on your own anyways.

Cause there's somethin' about it that brings me to life

Yeah, I know all the consequences, I don't mind

This holy redemption tears us in two

But I can't turn my back to you

Wearin' your t-shirt, I'm Queen of the night

One hand on the wheel, and one hand on my thigh

And I know it sounds crazy, but babe I am too

I just can't turn my back to you

Bucky knew about your loss of friendship with Amy, and why. He blamed himself and even thought about leaving you but you refused. You spent the entire night proving to him why and how much you belonged with him.

“She’s right you know. One psych break and you could be dead.” He whispers sadly.

“I’m here to stay with you through it all. I trust you, and I trust myself when I say I know you’ll never kill me. You won’t hurt me because I love you, and you love me.” Your lips find his in a blistering kiss full of love and fire. You needed to show him, to make him feel what you held within yourself. Pulling away you whisper, “we are both born from the dark, but we found the light together. I want to stay in the light with you.” He looked into your hope and love filled eyes and couldn’t help but lose himself completely. The warmth and utter devotion you showed him made his eyes well up and his arms pull you even closer to him. This was home for both of you, the sanctity of each other’s arms.

A knock at your door and Steve’s booming voice calling, “Time to go to the gala lovebirds!” Bucky internally groans and his arms pull away from your body.

“Looks like it’s time to get your dress on and get your fine Ass down there doll.” You giggle and kiss him before leaping up and heading to the closet to put on your navy blue gown. The car ride over was calming, and relaxed. His hand was on your thigh, the other on the wheel. You find yourself grinning at him, making him smile in return. “What’s got you so smiley?”

“I’m crazy about you, you know that?” You admit with a small giggle.

His smile turns into a very large grin and his grip on your thigh tightens as he squeezes you softly. “I’m crazy about you too, doll.” Your chest grows warm and your heart flutters as you take in his words. You wonder how you ever thought you were in love with anybody else before.

As soon as you both got back from the tiring gala, you immediately changed into a shirt of Bucky’s and some sleep shorts. You couldn’t help feel like in his shirt, in his clothes, you could take on anything. Survive anything with that piece of him with you. There was no separating you two from now on. Not ever. Not when you were unknowingly (yet) growing this mans child in your belly.

When the night goes quiet

And we're up in your room

And you're kissin' my fingers

And I kiss your tattoos

You lied beneath the silk sheets of his bed, your head on his chest. It was quiet now, after many rounds of blissful sex you both just held eachother. Your head turns and you kiss the tattoo he got around his scar on his shoulder lovingly. “I love you.” You whisper.

He takes your hand in his and kisses your fingers softly as the other plays with the ends of your long hair. “I love you too, y/n. So much.”

I could lay in bed with you and talk shit forever-ever

If this is all a dream, wake me up never, never, never

Swear to God, cross my heart, no one does it better, better

“I just can’t get over it.” You say as you lie next to him on the bed, the warm comforter covering you both.

“You? I think the one more shocked is me, doll. I’m over 100 years old and have a metal arm who used to be a hydra assassin. And I’m about to be a full blown dad. To an actual BABY.”

Your hand goes to grab his metal one in comfort. “You’re going to be an amazing dad babe. I just know it, and our baby will love you and your metal arm. Just like I do.” You then place both of his hands on your growing stomach so he could feel the life they created inside you.

His eyes began to water and a small smile graced his face. “You really think so, y/n? I’m scared.”

You nod and place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Yes baby, I think so. With all of my heart. I’m scared too but I know with you, us together we can accomplish anything. Even parenthood.”

He brings you close and nuzzles into your neck, his head ticking your skin. “Oh doll, please tell me you’ll marry me.”

Your cheeks turned deep red and you can’t help but tear up. “Oh Bucky... are you serious?” He nods and reaches Over to the dresser by the bed to pull out the velvet box. Pulling it open he reveals a rather large diamond ring. “More serious than ever doll. You’re it for me.” He says with a smile. You don’t waste time putting your lips against his in a passionate kiss. Sure your hormones were insane because of the baby but there was no refuting that you were absolutely in love with the man next to you that fathered you’re baby.

“Oh god, yes buck I’ll marry you. I’d marry you a thousand times if i could.” You gush, your body wrapped around his. “Just wait until I have this baby and i can fit into my dream dress okay?”

He nods. “Anything for the love of my life. And soon to be other love of my life.” His hand goes to your stomach again and your heart had never felt more complete as he then places the ring on your left hand. You were going to be his queen forever.

92 notes · View notes

blkgirlcafe · 4 years

Text

Home PT. 4

Viktor Drago x Cyra (Black OFC)

Cyra (Ky-Ra) -Sun or throne

Kazimir (Kah-Zee-Meer) - Bringer or Announcer of peace

Viktor Drago is married to the love of his life, they have a 5 year old son. He is willing to do anything to keep them safe.

Warning: Kidnapping, abuse, mentions of child abuse

Flashback 2

Viktor watched her everyday, he hoped it did not come off creepy but she was different and so pretty. If Ivan caught his eye wondering he would smack him back into focus. Ivan had given him a break, he was sitting on the floor, with his water, protein bar and fruit, watching her. She was on the treadmill, going a good pace. He couldn't help but look at her butt, it was so shapely, more than the other women from this area.

She stopped running, using a towel to wipe her face. She cleaned the equipment, never once taking off her headphones. Viktor watched her mouth the songs, he wondered what she was listening to too.

She began to walk his way, maybe she was leaving, she had only been here 30 minutes. In horror he realized she was walking towards him, she was smiling at him. He quickly swallowed the bite of food in his mouth, chasing it down with a big gulp of water.

“You know if you are going to stare at me, you could come say hi.” she smiled.

“I’m Sorry, I didn't mean to.” he mumbled, letting his head fall.

“It's fine kinda, I’m Cyra, nice to meet you.” she held out her hand.

Viktor scrambled to get up, drawing a giggle from her. He shook her hand, “Viktor, nice to meet you.”

He said the name a few times in his head, not trusting himself to say it just yet. She licked her lips and he caught himself staring, looking away.

“Povernutysya do roboty!”Ivan yelled at him. (Back to work!)

Cyra jumped and Viktor hated it, hated that she felt scared. Without a word he turned back to the punching bag.

Viktor picked Ivan up from the airport, he had not seen his father in over 7 years. When he left the Ukraine to be with Cyra. His dad told him he would regret it, that it was a mistake, that no one would love him like he did, and that he belonged in his country, fighting for it.

But the love and acceptance he found with Cyra, with her family, the warmth, was a million times better than he could have dreamed of. He got up everyday happy, he felt whole, he truly smiled.

“Have you talked to them?” Ivan asked.

“Today no, yesterday I did, just a little bit so I know they are still alive.”

“Then there is hope.”

“Why do you owe him 500k?” Viktor asked, turning into the driveway of his home. Part of him wished Cyra's car was parked outside the garage like usual. He never understood why they had three garages and she always parked outside the door unless it was raining. When Viktor came home he would always put her car in the garage.

“I made some bets, I didn't win.”

“So this is what you do now, you bet on fights?” Viktor was pissed off.

“What else am I supposed to do, you left me.” Ivan shot back.

Viktor got out, slamming the door behind him. Unbelievable, no matter what his dad would find a way to blame him. His mom left, somehow his fault, he lost a fight, his fault, he won a fight, not his fault.

He put his phone on the kitchen charger, as obsessed Cyra was with phones, she had chargers all over the house. She wouldn't let his phone slip below 80% in fear of a missed call. His thoughts kept going back to his wife and child.

“Nice place you got here. How much does it cost you?”

“None of your damn business, you can sleep in the guest bedroom, as soon as this is over you are on the first flight back home.”

“If I want to see my grandson?”

“You don't deserve to, you are the reason he is in this mess.”

“We will pay him and this will be over?” Ivan said.

“We? You don't have a dime to your name and he doesn't want money.”

“Well what does he want?”

---

As far as Cyra could tell that they were here for 3 days. They were fed 3 meals a day, and they currently were on their 3rd dinner. Kazi seemed a little happy with his french fries and chicken nuggets. Their captors had bought kazi toys, she guess they got tired of his whining.

They gave her nothing to occupy her time, it was driving her crazy. The door opened and the guy called Andriy mentioned for her to come here. Kazi stopped eating, sensing the shift in the room.

“Mama be back baby.”

“Ok Mama.” he sat there, watching her leave. The door was closed and locked behind her.

She was sitting on a couch, given her phone and told to facetime her husband, she did eagerly wanting to see his face, just to know everything was alright. He picked up quickly and Cyra smiled despite herself, she missed her husband.

“Baby are you okay?” he blurted out and the phone was snatched from her hand.

“She is fine, just finishing up dinner. I believe Kazi loves his dino nuggets. Is Ivan there?”

“Yes.”

“Give the old man the phone.”

Cyra watched with tears in her eyes, she wanted to see him so bad, to hear him say it was going to be okay. He was her rock, the only thing that made her feel better when shit was tough.

“Ivan, nice to see you, especially since you've been ducking me and my men.”

“Wasn't ducking, just getting my affairs in order.”

“Did your son tell you what I want?”

“Yes, he will do it.”

“Of course he will, because you know two lives mean nothing to me.”

“Yes I know.”

“And I still want my money.” Andriy handed her the phone back, Ivan face way too close to the screen.

“You have two minutes.”

Viktor came back into view, “Where is Kazi?”

“In the room babe, he's fine, we are fine.”

“Are you hurt, can I see him?”

“I don't think that best baby, he has been crying for you since we left, he sees you. I wont get him calm again.”

A tear slid down her cheek, it was tearing her up to tell him no. She wanted nothing more than to have her boys back together.

“Cyra I love you so much, I will do anything to get you two back here.”

“I know baby, I love you too.”

“Say bye.” Andriy said to her.

Cyra teary eyed said goodbye. She was escorted back to her room, Kazi was laying on the bed crying.

Cyra went to him, picking him up, trying to sooth him.

“It's okay baby boy, mama wasn't far, right there, I would never leave you.”

----

Flashback 3

Their first date happened by accident. Cyra was running late to the gym, a study group ran super late, then she needed to do laundry before it closed. But she was determined to at least get her mile in. It was cold and dark by the time she got to the gym, lucky her it was open late. Not many people were left in the gym, a few stragglers like herself. She hopped on the treadmill and set a steady pace, being in a rush had Cyra had forgotten her headphones.

She finished her mile and realized she was alone in the gym. She quickly grabbed her bag and hoody, heading towards the door. Waiting by the front desk was the giant Viktor.

“Hey Vik.” She smiled at him.

He shyly looked away, mumbling a hi. She made it outside, throwing her hood over her head.

“Hey, you walking home?” Viktor stopped her.

“Yeah, I was going to get food first, want to come?” she smiled. Cyra watched the decisions play over his face, he didn't say much but his face did.

“Sure if it means you aren't walking home alone in the cold and dark.”

“Well come on, my treat since you want to be a gentleman.” she bumped his arm with his shoulder, he didn't budge at all.

They ended up at a local place not far from her shared apartment, the table was small, her and Vikor close together as the food was bought out. Cyra did most of the talking, Viktor listened and gave little input here and there, but he mostly was content with listening to her.

“”Tell me something random about yourself?” she said, grabbing a potato pancake from his plate, he smiled at the action.

“I don't have anything, sorry.” he looked away.

“Vik, if we are going to be friends you gotta stop saying sorry, don't be sorry for who you are.” she nudged his thigh.

“Sor...I mean ok. I like silent films.”

“I can see that, you are like the strong but silent type, it fits you.”

Viktor felt like he was drowning, in a good way. She smelled great, her touch was soft, he was not used to these things. He was used to a smelly gym, with men with rough hands that threw hard shots.

“I should get going, I do have class in the morning, and I am sore.”

“You are sore because your form is bad.”

She gasped and Viktor thought for a second she was upset for a second until a grin broke out on her face, “Wow, everyone can't be a pro like you, maybe show me one day the right way.”

Cyra paid the check, which he felt bad about, he would get the next one he told himself. He walked her home, saying goodbye when they reached her apartment. He stood outside watching her go in, hoping she would be okay.

He quickly made his way home, knowing that Ivan would be upset with him for being out too late, they got up at 4am to start training.

----

Cyra has been gone 5 days, his son gone 5 days, it was driving him crazy. Normally this close to a fight he tried to take it easy, doing light workouts, watching film, mentally preparing himself for battle. But this was different, he called his manager and had a press conference schedule for today.

Viktor was doing this for his wife and child, he closed his eyes, he could see them. He could see Cyra and her soft smile, the way she smiled at him. He could see Kazi and his unruly hair, bouncing all over the room, wanting to touch everything. His manager came back into the room, interrupting his daydream.

“You sure you want to do this, this isn't like you, and you look like shit. Where is Cyra?”

“I have to do this, Cyra and kazi are with her family out of town.”

“She has always been by your side and now she goes out of town, not like her bro. We go on in 5 mintues. Want to tell me why your dad is here?”

“Support.”

“Bullshit Vik and you know it, something not right, there is something you aren't telling me. Did Cyra leave you?”

“What?! No!” he sighed.

“Then what is it, because I swear on everything I love I have never seen you like this before.”

“Just drop it, Let them know I am ready.”

Viktor paced the room, he had ditched his normal gym attire for a dark blue suit, with a red tie. Cyra had picked it out for him, it was supposed to be for the press conference that happened 24 hours before the fight.

The guy interviewing him wasted no time, jumping right in.

“Viktor Drago, to say I am surprised is an understatement, you usually are very quiet before a fight, why the sudden change?”

“I think I have proved myself enough that I can brag and be boastful, gone are the quiet days. Every person you guys have put before me, I have won against. Now it is time for me to talk my shit. I will beat Jaun lopez ass, just like I did everyone else before me.”

“This new Big Nasty, I love him. You are a champ and deserve to talk about your accomplishments.”

“I won lose this fight, I will prevail.” Viktor stood up, mimicking the ignorant stance he had seen other boxers take before walking off. He quickly made his way back to the room, locking the door behind him. He slid to the ground, hyperventilating.

----

They let Cyra watch and she was sick the whole time, this was not like her husband. She couldn't believe that her son and herself were being held captive over a boxing match. It made her mad that these people thought her son's life was worth so little. They threw her back in the room afterwards, whenever they pulled her out Kazi always cried, she sat next to him, gently stroking his hair.

“Mama, I heard Tata here?”

“No Sweetie I wish,he was on TV, the bad people made me watch.”

His tears flowed harder, this was the most seen ever song cry. Her Kazimir, her maker of peace, was always giggly and smiley, he always had a fun fact to share. He was a Daddy’s boy, preferring to hang on to Viktor's side when he could. His dad took him to the gym often with him, they spent countless hours together, without her.

She knew being a father was so important to Viktor, he was intent on being the best dad he could be. His own spoiled relationship with his dad ensured he did everything different. He encouraged Kazi interest outside of sports, not pushing him like Ivan did to him.

“Tata wouldn't leave us.” he cried.

“I know baby and he didn't, he is looking for us, the bad people are keeping us hidden, like a game of hide and seek, tata will find us.”

“I don't like them.”

“Me either Kazi, they are so mean and stupid.”

“Mama bad word.”

“It's okay Kazi, in cases like this we can say bad words.”

Her son perked up, he was never allowed to say bad words, words like stupid, ugly, were not allowed, he had to find others words to replace those.

“Can I say one mama.” he looked up at her teary eyed.

“Yes baby, just one. But remember when we get home, no more.”

“I am going to save mine.”

Cyra smiled at this, just like her son to outsmart her.

The door swung open, the woman telling them they could go to the bathroom. Kazi once again stood at the door while she used the restroom as if protecting her.

“You go outside, but don't get loud or get any ideas.”

They were led out a backdoor, the yard fenced in, the sun was out and shining, Kazi ran to the fence and back to her happy to be outside. Cyra sat on the ground and let her son run circles around her. Eventually one of the guys joined them, kicking a soccer ball into the yard. Kazi perked up, still weary of the men.

The ball was softly kicked to him, and he kicked it back. He looked at her uncertain of what to do.

“It's okay baby.”

She hoped that if he played enough he would sleep well tonight. He was having nightmares and not sleeping well. And once he woke up, there was no getting him back to sleep, he would ask her a million questions that she didn't have the answers for.

#Viktor Drago #viktor drago x cyra #viktor drago x black woman #florian muneanu #smutty writer #black writers

26 notes · View notes

aprilskyforever · 5 years

Text

Tmblrvision 2019 aesthetics

the vibes and associations i get while listening to the songs. based mainly on melody.

GREECE: the popular-girls-at-high-school (or maybe college) stereotype - pillow fights, road trips, gossip, passing notes in the classroom, cheerleading

ALGERIA: lonely, sleepless nights after just getting dumped. lethargy. deep forests and wide streched landscapes without end

POLAND: jogging through a suburbia in rain. gray daily commute. overcast weather. the feeling that there must be something better than this

JAPAN: the first real love, kids playing in a meadow, waterfalls and butterflies, shy gestures and looks, the first misunderstanding and fight, but also the first reconcilation

THE NETHERLANDS: a frustrated and restless author, he has writer’s block that never really lets go, he’s never content with his work. wrinkled paper, broken pencil ends, colliding with others on walks

SLOVAKIA: modern ballet, faint light, a couple, a farewell you don’t want to say

ISRAEL: party and ceremonies in a village where the older women are in charge; they do the cooking, leading the dances, and make sure everyone is involved and having fun

ICELAND: army boots, lighters and torches, pills, disassociation

ARMENIA: racing dogs, or maybe a tiger tamer, a queen on her throne dressed in a fur cloak

FRANCE: bisexuality; the flags and those colours. smoke. dance on a float at pride, but not entirely euphoric. bubblegum, soap bubbles, cartwheels and other acrobatics

CZECHIA: a hall of mirrors or glass labyrinth where you can’t find your way out. constant shift between lights on and off, constant feel of being hunted; stress

ROMANIA: oriental palaces, a secret love affair with the sultan in order to get his money, terracotta, blood red and mosaic blue

PORTUGAL: a buzzing shopping street in strong sunlight, attractive people at cafés and restaurants, sunglasses, stores too expenisve for you to visit, still everything feels exciting

MONACO: the most popular guy and girl from high school are now adults, have become famous, they’ve released a summer hit that evryone loves besides you. you just don’t get it

BELARUS: to be one with the elements, feeling the wind tug your hair, the earth tremble beneith your feet, hearing the oceans roar

LITHUANIA: a date at the bottom of an empty outdoor swimming pool, watching the stars, smoking weed, torn jeans and flannel shirts

HUNGARY: green grass. small lakes. cloudy, rain in the air. scent of wood. riding in a pick-up truck. visitng places that carry happy memories for you, but now you’ve broken up with the person you created those memories with

ALBANIA: teenagers discovering a city; on a playground, between concrete walls, on rooftops. sparkling chemistry

UKRAINE: a car ride through a big city at night, the car is expensive and drives fast and you have no idea where you’re going, you’re both afraid and a little turned on at the same time. neon lights. drugs are offered

CROATIA: a scene from a musical set at a café or maybe a diner, a waitress is the main character but all the visitors and staff are dancing, they even get out in the street. cappuccino colours, big flowers.

ITALY: a carnival, but everything is a little off/cursed. you get hypnotized by the wheels of fortune, the clowns don’t look too friendly, one tent is having a burlesque show, the rides are creeking and jangling

AUSTRALIA: a festival in summer. hot sun. mingling, dancing drunk at the back of the audience, beer, loose tank tops, denim shorts

ESTONIA: a ship. the crew running around getting everything in ready and in order. riding on the waves. can also be a family packing for a road trip

SWITZERLAND: walking along a beach in sunset. lots of people, vendors along the way. wind in your hair. someone is doing a performance. orange, pink, purple.

LUXEMBOURG: a small restaurant with a dancefloor. tension between a couple, they’re eating in silence, dance together, something doesn’t feel right but they can’t tell what it is

MOLDOVA: nature romance, but sorrowful. riding thourgh a forest, drinking from the small brooks, dacning in an wood anemone valley pretending everyhing’s alright while pushing away your anxiety

SPAIN: growing up; looking at oneself for too long in the mirror and not be content with oneself, get the impulse to smash it with a punch, shave one’s head, tear down all posters and throw out all toys

BULGARIA: being on the way to the most important boxing game of one’s life, alternatively to commit murder. blood splashing on the walls like a pollock painitng. the audience cheering you on in slow motion

EGYPT: a smokey club 90 years ago, red glittery dresses and white suits, live music, something more in your drink besides alcohol

AUSTRIA: being home alone, talking to oneself and dacning like no one is watching, watching the sunset through the window, autumn leaves falling

RUSSIA: glistening snow and northern lights, a car ride over scandinavian mountains, fjords and forest in the middle of winter

LATVIA: preteens on tiktok, boys staying out too late, skateboards and scooters, afro hair

UNITED KINGDOM: royals of the street, breakdance battles, a boombox on the shoulder, graffiti, bengals (are they called that? you know the smokey coloury things often used at football games and marches and stuff), flashmobs

SWEDEN: graduation (or just schools out for summer), a peptalk before an important event, hugs where one is lifted up and spinned around, the first swim of summer

IRELAND: love letters, having a secret crush on your best friend, sweaters and skinny jeans, baking together, flowery bed covers

DENMARK: riding in an old mustang on cliffs along the ocean, stopping to watch the sunset, laying on top of the hood watching the sky, hearing the yells from cranes, geese and seagulls

SLOVENIA: running ink, bonfires, thin papers, bathtubs filled to the brim, strobe lights

SERBIA: spices, powders in all different colours, tobacco, tulips, terracotta

LEBANON: before the last grand battle in a movie, standing on the top of a mountain watching your enemy at the horizon, horses... and no one knows that just some nights ago, you and your enemy met at a club and danced very close to each other

NORWAY: grandfather clocks, dark silver gray, white show lights

BELGIUM: an eerie dark forest, bats, running without knowing where you put your feet

GERMANY: gathering around something; running down the street knocking on every door urgning everyone to come out because something important is happening

FINLAND: riding the bus while it’s raining, following the drops racing down the window, finding joy in the small things while the rest of your life is quite miserable

#tmblrvision #tmblrvision 2019 #aesthetics #vibes #this literally took days #hope you all like them!!#and do you agree?#let me know!!

32 notes · View notes

angelaiswriting · 5 years

Text

The Assistant (12 of ?) | Vladimir Ranskahov x reader

[original picture found on: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings:

(eventual) Vladimir Ranskahov x fem!reader

Anatoly Ranskahov x OC (Paulina)

✏️ Requested by @kellydixon01 : Y/N–hacker, big mouth, even bigger attitude–is the new addition to Fisk’s team. Sent to help the Ranskahovs, she immediately gets on Vladimir’s nerves. But as time passes, they start to take a liking to each other, even if none of them is willing to admit their feelings. Yet.

✏️ Previously on The Assistant: after managing to leave Wesley’s claws, it’s Vladimir that does his best to take care of a shattered Y/N–he cleans her wounds, lets her sleep on his couch and all in all, protects her. In an attempt to show her his true self, he takes her to the only place he can call ‘home’, but things don’t go according to plan.

✏️ A/N: things are deffffff moving forward for these two, just wait for it, guys ;)

✏️ Warnings: the usual (dark, mentions of troubled past, hand-to-hand combat, murder...) + a hint of fluff with a little heart-to-heart conversation

✏️ Word-count: 3,213

📚 Series Masterlist

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE PRICE OF COURAGE

Despite being relatively big and empty, the underground garage was packed in its middle. Unused and abandoned by the city of New York, it had been seized by the metropolis’ fighting underworld and turned into one of the many scenes of the itinerant circus of impromptu hand-to-hand combats long before Vladimir had come to America.

Places like that were home for him, but for Y/N? Not so much. She had definitely witnessed something like that in Ukraine during her internship – or at least that was how her resume described the months she had spent there –, but it had never been an entertainment kind of thing. They had been punitive fights and to think that these people were fighting for the love of it…

She wasn’t scared. The curious glances she earned didn’t even manage to touch her, for she knew – somehow – that Vlad would keep her safe. The trust she had in him was most likely more than it should have been, but she didn’t want to think that she was alone in all this, so she kept on hoping – hoping he’d keep her safe from these people cheering on the two men fighting in the center of the room and hoping he’d keep her safe from Wesley and her duties towards him.

On his part, Vladimir was more nervous than he let on. It was an art he had managed to learn in all the years he had spent in this business – and in the many that had preceded it when home had felt just like another cage in the zoo that was his life. To show her, of all people, this side of him…

It was scary, it made him feel small and insignificant and utterly exposed. This wasn’t Tolya, and it wasn’t Sergei, either. It was someone he didn’t completely know, someone he didn’t completely trust despite all his best attempts. It was also someone that had proven to him that she could be trusted, someone that had proven to him – probably poisoned by the fumes of her own fear, back there in Wesley’s apartment – that she was ready to be beaten to a pulp to shield his secrets.

That was probably what scared him the most. Tanya had been just like that, in the beginning, before things started to go to shit under his nose without him even realizing so. She had loved him and cared for him and treasured his secrets like they had been her own and then, when he least expected it, she had stabbed his back. She had stabbed his back and his love for her had been the one to twist the knife in the wound.

He didn’t want history to repeat itself. He didn’t want nor need another Tatyana in his life and he only wished he were brave enough to tell her because to tell her would mean to acknowledge and give body to the one and only realization haunting his every day: he had started to fall for her.

He didn’t know what it was that he liked in her, for he was still trying to convince himself that he did not like her – he didn’t like her job, nor her employers, nor her past, nor the secrets she had kept from him. But he liked her wits, he loved the fact that she kept her head high and confronted him like she wasn’t afraid of him. He was in love with her legs, sure, but he also admired her strength and the attention to the details she put in what she did.

Tanya hadn’t been like that, and to notice such difference was a relief. Tanya had been a good-hearted person – or as much of a good-hearted person as a backstabbing bitch could be. She had wanted to help people and she had studied to do just that, to reach a position of somewhat power and do a difference in the world. Vladimir had never understood what she had found in him – an orphan, a criminal, in and out of jail, with his hands always bloodied and his wallet always full. He hadn’t even been good with people – and not always a gentleman with her – he hadn’t exactly had the best of upbringings.

Y/N was different, the face on the other side of the coin. She was stubborn and skeptical, more similar to him than his own brother ever was. She had grown up surrounded by crime, she had made her bones on murder and theft and lies and had ended up picking up demons on her way to the present day. Almost more importantly, she was someone he could understand – it had never been like that with Tanya, not even once: he had never understood her need to do good, to always do better than the day before, to elevate herself from the hole he had been digging since the day he was born.

Even now, as he looked at Y/N from the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but point out the differences, caving in under the weight of what he needed in life – someone to trust and that could be trusted, someone that could protect him the way he would protect her. She held her head high – despite the bruises, despite the pain, she held her head high and there was a defiant look in her eyes, a defiant stance in her shoulders. She was more similar to him than he’d ever be comfortable to admit: she took her weaknesses and she buried them deep behind the mask she wore when she left the safety of her house, the only place the world wasn’t allowed to enter, not until she decided to open the door.

And suddenly, the fear of being judged left him. It evaporated from his shoulders and from his eyes and left him even more naked than he had felt before. She probably didn’t see it, but he knew she understood it deep down inside – and if not now, then definitely one day.

This was his way to feel normal, to feel alive. The fights had become his life long before he had tried to make himself one. Under an opponent’s punches, with bones cracking and blood staining his teeth, he went back to feeling alive. There was no more Utkin, no more escaping to America, no more fighting to reach the top in an underworld society that could dethrone him the day after. It was just him and the man in front of him, his skin and muscles and bones under his fists as he did the only thing he knew how to.

There was some desperate part of him, a nameless one that never fought harder than his demons, that wanted her to see. See his pain and his struggles, the shadows inside his head – and outside of it – and understand. He didn’t need pity, he didn’t need a shoulder to cry on: all he was hungry for was a person that looked at him and saw what he couldn’t show, heard what he couldn’t say, feel what he didn’t want to bring himself to feel. And whether Y/N was the right person or not, he didn’t know yet.

And it scared him.

It scared him more than falling for a woman that wanted to save the world. It scared him even more than the shadows of Utkin ever did – probably more than they ever will. There was an uncanny safety in the dark demons that populated his world: he knew what to expect from them, he had learned their antics and their strategies, he could foresee their next move – it didn’t imply that he was safe from them, on the contrary; it only meant that he knew how to handle them, one way or another.

But Y/N was unreadable. Even with all the similarities they shared, she remained a closed book – a closed cell. She was foggy and mysterious, a demon he didn’t know how to handle yet. He wanted to learn how to, though, wanted to learn from her – every single shattered piece of his mind craved that – the contact, the company – more spiritual rather than physical.

He wanted to look at her and see the world she carried inside, just as he wanted her to look at him and see all his darkness, all his demons, all those ghostly echoes of a still-living and still-thriving past and find some sort of spark in all that chaos. If she only looked at him – looked through him – and told him what she found there, what she found where his tired gaze and soul couldn’t reach, then he knew he could start over. Not a new life – he didn’t have enough energies for that –, but just… something new. Fewer demons thrashing in his mind, fewer shadows in his bedroom, fewer cigarettes in his life and more love – for his brother, for his men, for the world, maybe even for a woman.

Maybe even for a family.

But as of now, he was stuck in the mud the fighting underworld was.

He wanted to unlearn that – unlearn how to fight, how to survive in a society that only wanted to punch your teeth out, smash your face in, scatter bones and brains and blood around.

He wanted to be like Tolya – loved and with love to give, without the need to bring pain and destruction just to feel the shadow of a spark of life.

“How was it?” he found himself asking instead. “Life with motorcycle club.”

He was leaning against a concrete pillar, a smoking cigarette hanging from his lips as the tip of his index finger danced along the unnaturally cold grip of his gun.

Y/N was standing right next to him – stiffly, almost as though she wanted to become a statue, a pillar herself. She was staring at the fight taking place a few meters from her, probably processing that new level of fucked-up Vladimir had reached. But the frown on her face softened into a half-smile when she turned to look at him and for a moment, her eyes closed and she looked younger than she actually was.

“It was… nice.” She leaned against the pillar he had claimed as his, and her shoulder pressed into his as she extended an arm to take the cigarette from his lips.

Vladimir had never seen her smoke, had never smelled the stench of cigarettes on her clothes. For some weird reason, though, it didn’t surprise him and all he managed to do was look as she took a drag just to then puff out the smoke.

“It was more than nice. It was like… like a party.” She shrugged her shoulders before handing him back the cig. “It probably had more lows than highs,” she chuckled, tongue coming out to lick along her lower lip, “but I was a kid and my daddy and his friends had cool motorbikes and that was all that mattered. I probably spent more time riding bitch behind my father than I did doing my homework.”

“I didn’t peg you for someone who didn’t care about school.”

His comment made her laugh. “Oh, I did. I studied with the other members’ kids. We helped each other with homework, came up with strategies to cheat on the next test… But we were kids living half in this world and half in something else, something we couldn’t even come to comprehend in the slightest. Our fathers were feared and had enemies, they worked two jobs and flirted with jail and the police. It was exhilarating.” She shook her head, lost in thought, and when she turned to look at him again, she didn’t really see him, lost somewhere down memory lane. “You have your fights,” she continued, gesturing vaguely to the garage and the people in it, “and we had… that, whatever that was.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Every day.” Her answer came more quickly than he had thought it would, more quickly than she had ever realized it would betray her like that. “Sometimes,” she added. “Part of me still loves it, still wants to… I don’t know.” His half-smoked cigarette was between her lips once again and all Vladimir could do was stare at the way she smoked as her gaze got lost in the cheering crowd in front of them. “But I also hate it.” She twirled the cigarette between her fingers, stared at the way the ashes danced towards the floor. “Hate that I love it after what it did to us. Hate myself for still flirting with the illegal side of things the same way everybody back there did. But…”

“Is hard to leave when it is all you have ever known.”

Her eyes met his – they saw him this time – and she nodded once. “Yes.”

“Legality is scary,” Vladimir said, more to himself than to her. And it indeed was: it paralyzed him, stuffed his veins with cotton and glass fiber. Before it, he was vulnerable, more vulnerable than he’d ever be with the mouth of a gun kissing his forehead. “It should be easy way, but is not. Illegality is harder but safer.”

Her fingers brushed against the back of his hand and whether that was a voluntary or an accidental touch, he would never know. She didn’t say illegality was easier – she knew the price people had to pay for it, even when they embarked in that life willingly. It was, on varying degrees, a conscious choice that only lead to a marred mind and a tattoo- or scar-kissed body and soul.

“Does not matter how much we want, we can never leave. It always finds way back to us.” He took one last drag from his cigarette before he let it fall to the ground. They both stared at its butt for a moment, silence stretching between them and oddly bringing them closer before he put out the cigarette butt with the ball of his elegant shoe.

They didn’t feel the scorching drag of alcohol down their throats – he of his vodka and she of her sambuca. Stopping by a bar hadn’t been in Vladimir’s plans when he had come up with the idea of taking her to the fights, but it had felt like the perfect continuation for the night: it was the perfect way to drown his sorrows, the only route he ever took, and he was starting to understand that Y/N wasn’t that different.

Shot after shot, the alcohol took away the problems still crawling up their spines and it shed light everywhere around them, shooing the shadows of their minds away. Not enough to get them drunk, though, only tipsy, heads dizzy as their sight lost its focus.

Inhibitions lost between a swig of burning liquor and a drag of the same, shared cigarette, Vladimir found himself with a loose tongue. “I loved her, I really did. Part of me probably still does,” he said, tracing imaginary lines on the bandages wrapping her left hand. “Tatyana,” he added when she hummed questioningly.

She didn’t answer but when he looked up at her, staring at the counter of the bar and at the people standing there, he saw she was holding her breath.

She looked both older and younger at the same time, and the lines of her face were starker under the suffused orange-y lights of the place. Shielded away from prying eyes in the corner booth they had sat in, she felt smaller than she was, swallowed away by her own thoughts.

“She was nice and smart and kindest person I have ever known,” he continued. “Even despite betrayal.”

“Why are you telling me?” She had stopped smoking and the cigarette rested unused between the index and middle fingers of her right hand, the smoke leaving its burning tip in tantalizing patterns.

He didn’t know why he was telling her that, not the full reason, at least. But he wanted to do this right, wanted to risk and open a crack in the armor he wore every day to shield himself from the world. “You remind me of her.”

Y/N kept quiet, even when she met his gaze, even when she dropped it to the shiny surface of the table. “I don’t think we’re that similar. I just… work my way around people, play my cards right.”

She wasn’t moving his hand away – nor hers. She kept it there, immobile on the table, and she let him touch it, let him trace the outline of her fingers as he got lost in his mind.

“You are smart,” he nodded stubbornly, finishing the vodka in his glass. “Am not sure about nice and kind, though.”

The chuckle they shared was bitter and amused at the same time. It seemed to ripple up their throats, moving the usually placid waters of their lives.

“I could say the same about you,” she agreed, turning to look at him again and shaking her head a second after, giggle evolving into a sudden burst of full laughter, one that, despite his better judgment, made him smile. It was only when they grew silent again that she continued, the palm of her hand closing to hold his. “You are kind, in your own way.”

He would have blushed, had he been able to. Instead, his lips broke into a half-smirk as he stared at their entwined fingers. It was an odd feeling, a sensation he hadn’t felt in forever. Her hand in his felt more real than he thought it would – not that he had wondered about holding hands with her, that is. He gently squeezed it experimentally once just to then draw slow circles in the space between her thumb and forefinger.

The urge to lie was there, burning his tongue, setting his nerve endings on fire as he set his jaw. But he did enjoy it – enjoyed that small gesture of friendly whatever-this-is, enjoyed the content silence between them, her perfume mixing with the stench of cigarettes and the alluring smell of demons.

“I will not say I trust you,” he sighed and she turned in her seat to face him, moving her left leg so that her thigh was resting on the leather cushion of the bench, her knee pressing into the side of his leg. “But I do.”

The price of saying those three words out loud was the same as ending up and spending time in Utkin, of escaping Siberia, of killing Tatya in cold blood and somehow, it was even heavier. It mixed with the sadness the death of his mother had left behind, the hopeless hopefulness of his short-lived childhood, with the thrill of the fights, the shattering coughing fit of the first time he stole his father’s vodka with Tolik, and the exhilarating sense of liberation he had got drunk on when his abusive father had left this world.

And it was scary.

As scary as her lips pressing against his stubble-covered jaw.

... wow. Did you see it coming? I didn’t :)

Feedback is not compulsory but always appreciated, so if you want to make my day :) feed me haha (works w/ real food too)

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask)

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

The Assistant: @flowers-in-your-hayr

People that might be interested: @sweetvengeancee @kind-wolf @brobachev

#Vladimir Ranskahov #vladimir ranskahov imagine #vladimir ranskahov x reader #vladimir daredevil #vlad ranskahov #daredevil netflix imagine #angelaiswriting #The Assistant

31 notes · View notes

tatterdema1ion · 5 years

Text

The Timeline Up Through First Class

My approach to Erik is to recover and synthesize as much of the canon approach as possible while trying to pay a little bit more respect to militant oppressed groups than I think the source material often does.

So, for everyone’s convenience, here is this roleplay blog’s sequence of events:

Auschwitz Period: This will conform more or less perfectly to Magneto: Testament.

Post-Auschwitz Erik’s powers came to fruition after he left the concentration camp and his health recovered. At that time, he struggled to conform to a pattern of “normalcy” for his family’s sake. The Nuremburg trials, with their stiff formality, could not slake his nightmares or his anger at what the world had allowed to happen. As he followed them, his blood roiled. But he always had wanted to provide for his loved ones, to settle into a comfortable life, and so Magda coaxed him to live one. The Soviets swooped down on Poland, with a reign as brutal as the Nazis’, albeit in different ways. Erik burned to join the resistance, but Magda was pregnant and persuaded him to move to Ukraine, where the Russians felt more secure. There, Erik fell into an easy pattern—work in the mines, then evenings at the bar or with his growing wife and daughter. It was a simple life, particularly for a man as gifted as Erik, but he was a simple man desperate for the same strength of belonging he’d known in his boyhood family. With time, he could smile over Magda’s softness, tenderly kiss their daughters’ feet, and chuckle at the fringes of the talk men made over their beer. That peace didn’t last. Or—it was tenuous from the first. It terrified Erik how quickly others�� buried their dead. No one mentioned the war, or the Soviet yoke that followed. If Erik’s sharp tongue alluded to his past, brutal reality or the memories of the dead only silence or censure ensued. His neighbors and coworkers acted as though the victims, not the perpetrators of the crime, were untouchables, the diseased. At first, Erik bowed beneath Magda’s pleas not to torment people when they were finally finding happiness. At first he wondered if he was crazy. Yet somehow, as the memory of his family threatened to fade, as the world succeeded in making a fable of the concentration camps, rage inflamed him. Rage like he’d been too numb, too terrified, too young to feel in the camps. With the rage, his powers grew. As they grew, strange things began to happen around him. And the more that metal sang to his touch in the mines—this dour, Jewish outsider—the more others came to fear him. Then, one day, the village burned his house and his daughter to ash. That same day, the man who would be Magneto raised the village to the ground. His wife ran, and Erik couldn’t feel the betrayal of that, had no more room for bitterness. At the time, he thought he was the only one in the world. He thought he was cursed by the dead he’d left behind in Auschwitz, that he’d let the world forget. And he would not forget again. His family’s murderers were still out in the world. Justice had failed them, the guardians of the law had fled from its demands. And Erik, Erik was going to see the law that his family had loved, trusted even as it led them to the slaughter, fulfilled. He would hunt the National Socialists down. Every. Last. One.

Erik’s Mutant Discovery Phase: This hunt ran aground quickly. At first, Erik made good time teaching himself all the skills he needed to stalk his quarry. Such things came easily to him. Erik had been educated early in languages. It was his family’s pride to be well-rounded, to wield the power of knowledge that their people had used to weave their accomplishments into the fabric of their nations’ culture when no one would accept their blood or their faith. And Erik was exceptionally talented. To his old repertoire of skills he added shooting, lock picking with his powers, and martial arts. He habituated himself to an itinerant lifestyle in every way save for his loneliness, having never been without family. (Perhaps it was this that drove him to start a relationship with Peter and Wanda’s mother, however short-lived and unsuspecting of what they would birth.) But using his powers drew attention. By the time he was captured by a clandestine Soviet corps that had inherited Nazi experimental camps in Poland, Erik had assassinated five men. He was unprepared for the reality that other mutants existed, for the revelation that his curse was shared. The other mutants were very few—less than a dozen in number. They were kept separated as far as possible, isolated in their torments, but Erik had his first glimpse of mutants as a class of people transformed by chemical weapons, nuclear radiation, and experimentation. Magneto soon escaped those conditions. Everyone that the researchers had encountered before had minor mutations, at best: Changes of appearance, enhanced metabolisms, or poison breath. They didn’t have the capacity to imprison a man who could turn all their weapons against them. The mutants scattered, none yet realizing they were a race, a class of their own. They feared him as much as the researchers did. Confused, Erik pressed on with the only certain thing in his life: the hunt. He came upon Shaw’s trail, and the plot of X-men First Class ensued… with a few exceptions. Charles gave Magneto the gift he longed for most in the world: A family to belong to. Certainly, Erik was gratified to meet someone who thought on as global a scale as he did, someone who possessed the talents to convince him he was not the only being in the world endowed with his power. But Charles had none of the harrowing experiences it took to relate to Erik, and given Erik’s growing, fundamental belief that mutants were the blessed offspring of human atrocities he couldn’t stand how sheltered Charles was. If not for the fact that they began to assemble the X-men immediately upon meeting, he would not likely have trusted Erik so deeply or grown so defensive of him and the friends that they had assembled. As it was, Erik found himself racked with anxiety over how little his companions responded at first to the experience he tried to share with them: We will be persecuted, we are a precious thing they will try to repress, the reminder of what they made us should hurt them. Erik swiftly grew to love the group for struggling with the same existential fears and incredible gift he did. So when they finally caught up with Shaw, it wounded him that he had to shield his mind from Charles to do what was necessary. It wounded him that when he declared his victory over the man: You created me, but then, so did all the other humans who were there that day. And I am the testament against you all. You tortured my family. You killed my family—when he declared all that, Charles didn’t exult with him. When he emerged, to a world turning missiles on them—their saviors—for their efforts, he’d barely thought about his response. It was natural: turn the weapons back on those trying to kill them. Turn the force back. As would happen so many times after, what ensued from his decisions was a maelstrom. He couldn’t make sense of it. He remembered nothing but hot white rage like possession. He didn’t know how he’d ended up cradling Charles in his arms, drawing a bullet from Charles’s back. He didn’t know how he’d ended up pleading: But I’m right. I’m right–. We’re brothers, what we want–. No. That word was a betrayal. No. We do not. Erik swallowed the aftermath. He watched Charles Xavier wipe minds and erase the Cuban Missile Crisis as it had happened from history, and he tried to swallow how that disturbed him, too. Erik watched as Raven—shyly, but with gradual conviction—took in the events that ensued alongside him and reassured him that there was one among them who agreed with him. They watched Charles begin building a school, building a persona, and they watched him forgive human leaders. And forgive them. And forgive them. Over and over and over. He forgave students, too, though in a different way. He forgave humans as though they had never done anything wrong and students as though they had. Erik felt that Charles was waiting for an apology from him, too, and he didn’t intend to give it. When everything shattered, he’d known it was coming. He just hadn’t known how fast it would all move.

First Period of Resistance (The First Brotherhood): This is where I’m going to be a lot more flexible. The basic plot from here, as I see it, is that the U.S. government begins small programs to monitor and control mutants. Charles doesn’t react much, while Erik and Mystique take immediate action in retaliation. To their surprise, Charles turns their own kin against them to stop them, and everyone’s relationship goes from bad to worse. Magneto and mutants drawn to his first, dramatic entrance into politics form the Brotherhood. In its first incarnation, the group’s ethos is more or less the same as it will always be: Mutants were formed in the crucible of humanity’s worst, most horrific offenses, including nuclear holocaust and human experimentation. Rather than dying and becoming a dark spot to be met with silence and mourning they take violent action to make humans confront what they’ve made. They’re a liberation group, but in their first incarnation they don’t care much about collateral damage, feeling that those complacent enough not to fight the human leaders who have created them are complicit. They’ll take anyone, and they don’t really know how to lead a movement, so they quickly radicalize and grow more violent than I think either Erik or Mystique intend. This will all come to a head around the time that Magneto abducts Rogue, and afterward I imagine that he goes underground and leaves Toad to run the Brotherhood for a while.

After that I envision there being an:

Underground Period (The Brotherhood’s several iterations without Magneto)

Magneto’ s inevitably violent and bloody Resurgence

Second Period of Resistance: This is when Erik begins to form Genosha anew

And we can stick whatever madness you want from the First Period of Resistance on.

#magneto #erik #roleplay #xmen #rp #&headcanon #&magneto #x-men

5 notes · View notes

a-shepherd-blog · 5 years

Text

Hi all! I’m Rey and I’m here with my fave Andrea!

The TL;DR version is: U.S. marshal who is just a little too trigger happy. Used to work for the NYPD as a detective and then climbed through the ranks. Comes from a mafia family but has gone straight - can’t deny her inherent nature either. Andy’s an old west gunslinger who’s been born into a different era. Above all she’s about putting bad guys behind bars and protecting good people; she’s a hunter.

I’m always looking for plots and connections! Also you can read her super extra bio below. Feel free to hit me up here or on discord at the_revati#8487.

Give it a like and I’ll slide into your DMs!

ANDREA SHEPHERD ;

&&. word has it ( andrea shepherd ) was just spotted around the city. ( she ) is/are a ( thirty-two ) year old affiliated with ( nypd ). it’s been said that ( she ) resembles ( stella maeve ). ( she ) has been said to be ( tenacious & resourceful ) but also quite ( judgmental & self-destructive ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( a u.s. marshal ).

(bio below)

tw: death, murder, self- mutilation

BACKSTORY

Her father was a Voloshyn and that meant he was a part of the Ukrainian mafia that existed in a certain corner of the world. His family? They didn’t live in this corner. Though born in Odessa, Ukraine, Andrea was raised by her mother Alice Shepherd in New York. Alice had grown up in the Hudson Valley and she’d spent most of her life in New York working as an art curator. When motherhood struck, she decided that keeping her children far, far, far away from Odessa was the best choice for them. Mikhail was her first born, but her daughter Andrea was born two minutes later. When they were older, Alice would tell them they came into this world holding hands.

New York was a decent enough place to grow up. Like any city, it had its dark underbelly. Alice did her best to keep both Mikhail and Andrea away from it, but the two grew up a part of the city as much as anyone else. It’s where Andrea picked her first fight, had her first kiss, got drunk for the first time. And Mikhail? He was her best friend.

For the most part, Andrea and Mikhail didn’t see their father. The holidays were the exception and dinners were always silent when Alexi Voloshyn sat at the head of the table. There was a shock in this pattern when the twins turned 11. Summer break rolled around and, all of a sudden, Mikhail was whisked off with Alexi to spend the summer in Odessa. Ever summer after that was the same. Mikhail would leave in the dead of night and Andrea would get left behind. It became increasingly obvious before long that Alexi was grooming Mikhail to step into his shoes. The young girl grew increasingly bitter about this tradition with the passing of each halcyon season. Mikhail would return just in time for school to start with nothing but a “It was fine” as a reply to Andrea’s “Well? How was it?”

It’s not that Andrea wanted her own hand in the criminal underworld of Europe - she was too young to understand that - she just wanted to be taken as seriously as her brother. She began to act out as a cry for attention - but all attempts went ignored. A stray comment from Alexi about marrying her off one Christmas dinner set off the final fuse. Andrea was 15 and at peak teenage rebellion. Without blinking, she grabbed the carving knife from the ham in front of her, and cut off her own ring finger. She tried not to cry when she did it and felt immensely betrayed by the three tears that managed to leak out during the act. The entire thing was very much a ‘fuck you’ to the path that had been laid out for her. It was very much supposed to be a ‘fuck you’ to her father. He wanted her to get married? Fuck that. Ring finger? Gone. Now she could never get married.

Instead of reacting with anger or fury, her father simply looked at this act of defiance and laughed. In her 15 years it was probably the first time Andrea heard such a sound. It was a warm, accepting laugh. As the family doctor stitched and patched her up, Alexi finally conceded that Andrea could join them in Odessa next summer. The young woman learned that acts of self-destruction as loyalty held a certain sort of esteem in her father’s eyes.

Sure enough, Andrea went to the Port of Odessa the next summer. It’s where she learned how to fire a gun, worked as a hired hand on a ship, saw her first dead body. She’d been brought along but it was Mikhail that Alexi continuously sent into the fray. It was Mikhail that went on the ride alongs and once again it was Andrea that was left behind. You’d think a father would be more precious with the life of his son but, again, acts of self-destruction as loyalty held a certain sort of esteem in Alexi’s eyes. One cold night, a deal went south and shots were fired. Andrea heard about it from one of her father’s friends the next morning. She heard that while Mikhail’s body had been found, Alexi’s was conveniently missing. Whispers floated that her father had managed to flee the scene. Any sadness Andrea had for her brother was swept away with the resounding notion that her father was a fucking coward.

Andrea returned home to Alice alone. That was Andrea’s tipping point. At her mother’s insistence she applied to colleges in New York and wound up settling on pursuing a political science degree at Columbia. There was an intense irony with the fact that Andrea was quickly falling into a path carved out for law enforcement, but the second she noticed it, she leaned into it. It was another ‘fuck you’ to the memory of her father. More than that, she had a knack for it in a way that she a knack for nothing else.

Andrea joined the NYPD fresh out of college when she returned home and quickly climbed the ladder to the rank of deputy sheriff. In the police department, she finally found the family she’d been searching for.

She continued on up, leaving for the state department and then eventually the federal sector. She spent some time as a firearms instructor in Glynco, Georgia at the U.S. Marshal’s training center before she became a full-blown Marshal herself.

During her time with the Marshal’s service, Andrea was assigned to several different field offices across the U.S. She gained a reputation for being trigger happy and was thus stationed in increasingly remote stations. (It seemed she was still, in many ways, her father’s daughter.) Alice passed during Andrea’s time in the Fairbanks office and due to poor weather conditions it was a week before Andrea got the news. Alice had left Andrea the house in New York.

Her life continued in other ways. During the day she would do her job, and at the night she would come back to the husband she’d met during her time on the NYPD. For a while, life was right. When Andrea caught whiff that Alexi Voloshyn was making the journey from the Port of Odessa to the Port of New Orleans, Andrea caught the first flight she could to Louisiana.

CUT TO: two weeks later. Andrea. Run out of New Orleans by the Ukrainian mob for publicly killing Alexi Voloshyn.

Andrea has been lying relatively low in in New York ever since the incident a year ago at the insistence of her U.S. Marshal Chief. Criminals infest the city and Andrea has done her best to stay above it. Andrea has a rigid view of most things. While others see the world in shades of grey, she sees it in shades of black and white. The thing about killing her father though, was that all the debts that Alexi had (the coward he was) were suddenly transferred to his only living family member upon his passing.

Now, Andrea lives alone in Prospect Park with the occasional roommate that comes and goes. She keeps most of the estate boarded up and only really uses the parts she needs. She still conducts her business from the police department. She’s been trying handle her father’s debts. Above all else - hunting is in her bones. She plans on cleaning up this city.

PERSONALITY / OTHER

grew up in New York, went to college here, but then was stationed all across the country - has been back permanently for about a year or so

an old-west gunslinger born into a different era

trigger happy

deep seeded anger towards the criminal underworld of this city. All about putting bad people behind bars and protecting good people.

holds a mother-fucking grudge like no other.

methodology: shoot it before it shoots me.

honestly, “back in the day” she’d be pretty close becoming an outlaw herself. She walks a dangerous line but shhhh we don’t talk about that

is no-nonsense

If you missed it in her bio, she’s missing her ring finger. She cut it off herself cause she didn’t want to get married. Ever. She always wears a glove on her left hand.

forgets to eat. Survives on a diet of scotch and gummy bears.

has two facial expressions: scowling or smiling slyly

is angry. Always. Keeps it bottled up. Always.

crime never sleeps and neither does she.

likes crossword puzzles

plays the saxophone and the piano. A fan of jazz music.

“I think she had fun, once” - the gas-station lady

also has a goldfish that she keeps forgetting to feed it’s a wonder it’s still alive.

“Call me Andy.”

Is all about the vigilante life, actually.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

I’m down to get creative with any of these! Also, I love angst???

Debts! - Did Alexi owe your gang member a debt? Congrats! Andy now owes YOU. Have fun with that.

Housemate - There is too much room in her parents estate in Prospect Park for her live there alone. Andy’s put up a “for rent” sign with the intention of renting out one of the rooms to another citizen. (CLOSED - Marcelo Rodriguez )

Former friends, exes, frenemies - Maybe she lost touch with them, maybe she didn’t. If your character grew up in New York, there’s the chance they knew each other. Maybe they had sleepovers, maybe they were childhood enemies, maybe they dated. Bonus points if they lead lifestyles she disapproves of now! (open)

Hate-sex - they hate it but they gotta get it on. (open)

Drinking buddies - dear god, Andy consumes so much whiskey. (open)

Siblings - Andy and Mikhail were Alice and Alexi’s oldest, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t have had other younger siblings. Also open to having Alexi have had other affairs. (open)

The Hunted - they’ve crossed paths in the past and she’s got a vendetta against them (open)

Ex-husband - He joined the criminal underworld. She left him. Simple as that. (open) *** would give my kidney for this one

Co-worker - Other police department friends. (open)

And literally anything else!

#tdrintro #( andrea shepherd ; seven nation army )#( andrea shepherd ; biography )

7 notes · View notes

somestorywriter · 5 years

Text

Daughters of Darkness

My submission for the August round of @hetaliacc

My prompt was: Daughters of Darkness by Halestorm (which is such an awesome song!)

Read on AO3

Read on FF.net

Words: 2,100

Rating: T

Overview of human names used:

Erika: Liechtenstein, Eliza: Hungary, Natalia: Belarus, Anya: Ukraine, Mei: Taiwan, Manon: Belgium

And then of course for the guys, Alfred: America, Gilbert: Prussia, Mathias: Denmark

Erika looked down at the red cup in her hands. The whole drinking alcohol thing was exciting already, but she would have preferred to know what was in her cup. It looked like water, but already her head was spinning and there was a mild nausea creeping up on her. Was this the mysterious vodka she'd heard about?

"So, I heard something about you being in a girl group or something?"

Erika's eyes shot back up to the blond she'd come for. Alfred, one of the most wanted jocks in the school, had personally invited her to his house party. She'd been so nervous to go, and even more so when he pulled her aside. He wanted to get to know her, he'd said. It was like a fantasy come true…

"We're called the Daughters of Darkness," she said. Was she supposed to take a sip from the alcohol? Or would drinking it be uncool?

"The Daughters of Darkness?" he asked, a slight chuckle in his voice. "What kind of group is that?"

"We hang out, and we travel, and we have sleepovers…"

There was a louder chuckle. Erika briefly wondered if she wasn't being mocked. But Alfred wouldn't do that to her, right?

"The more girls the merrier, I always say. Why don't you invite them over?"

"Really?"

"Yeah." He moved closer. "You know, I've been wanting to talk to you for the longest time."

"You have?"

"Yes. I've been having a bit of a crush on you."

Erika nearly crushed the cup in her hands.

"I'm so glad you could make it here tonight." He leaned in closer.

She couldn't believe what was happening. Was her crush about to kiss her? Relax, she told herself. Act cool. She waited while he came closer, closing her eyes and lifting her face to meet his.

Then there was something in her face.

She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was Alfred doubled over in laughter. There was something resembling shaving cream on his hand, and she realized that was what was sticking to her face now.

"She totally fell for it!"

"Alfred?"

Gilbert and Mathias jumped out, startling Erika. "Look at her face!" Gilbert snickered. He came at her with a handful of confetti, and before she could stop him, he threw all of it onto her face. The paper stuck to the shaving cream.

Mathias was busy taking pictures of her with his phone. "You should frame this one."

"You should have seen her face!" Alfred said, still laughing. "She thought I was going to kiss her!"

"Send it to everyone!" Gilbert said.

"Wait, no!" Erika came forward. "Please, don't send it!"

"Too late!" Mathias held up his phone.

Erika's stomach dropped to the floor. Everyone would see her like this. The thought made her want to throw up and she had to get out before it would happen. She dropped her cup on the floor and ran to the door.

"Oh, come on! My mom will kill me if she finds vodka on the floor!"

She wasn't hearing him. Everyone had seen the picture and some were even taking pictures themselves as she made her way through the crowd toward the backyard. Once there, she leaned over the bushes and threw up.

She sank to the stone terrace, her back against the wall. What was she going to do now? She couldn't go back inside there… Was it too dramatic to change schools? Or at least not go until this died down?

She took out her phone, encased in a violently pink cover with glitters and cat ears on the top. Yes, it was probably time to go home. She dialed the number.

"Hello?" There was a lot of noise going on in the background.

"Eliza?"

"Erika? Is everything okay? Everybody, shush, it's Erika!" The background went quiet at once.

"I want to go home…"

"Did something happen?"

"I don't like parties anymore…"

"Stay where you are. We're on our way." She hung up.

Erika hugged her knees to her chest. She hoped they'd be here soon…

Erika heard the sound of the motorbikes. She knew it like no other. She looked up when two heavy boots walked up to her. "Natalia?"

"How's it going, girl?"

"Everyone's so mean. I want to go home."

Natalia crouched down beside her. "Is that shaving cream?"

"And confetti…"

"We should clean that off. You know where the bathroom is in this place?"

"Yes, but… Everyone will see me again."

"We'll shield you."

Eliza, Anya, and Manon came around the corner as well. "Who did this to you?" Anya demanded, crouching down as well.

"Alfred…" Erika started sniffling.

"Oh, poor thing. Don't worry, he will pay for it."

"Let's get her to the bathroom," Natalia said.

They helped her up and together they entered the house.

The party was still in full swing, but some people turned to look at the company that had just walked in. Four girls, dressed in black, their leather jackets spelling out their name—the Daughters of Darkness. And there, in the middle of them, was little Erika.

"Move," Natalia snapped when a group of guys was too busy staring to step aside. They made a path to the bathroom, shutting the door behind them once they were there. The conversation downstairs was all about them now.

Manon made quick work of the shaving cream, using one of the expensive towels from the cabinet.

"The curls we made still look beautiful," Elizabeta said, brushing Erika's hair aside so it wouldn't get shaving cream on it.

"They do?"

"Yeah. It looks good on you."

Erika perked up a little bit. "Alfred didn't even notice them."

"But he's a jerk. And he'll pay for what he's done."

"And his friends too?"

"All of them."

"Yes!" Erika wiped her tears away. "He did tell me it was okay to invite you guys."

"And right he was."

Anya held up a leather jacket. "You mess with one of our sisters, we crash your whole party. It's the law, we can't help it."

Erika giggled as she slipped into the jacket. "You know, his mother doesn't want him to make a mess of the house."

"I like the sound of that," Eliza said.

"He freaked out over me spilling vodka."

"He gave you vodka?" Anya asked. "You're too young to drink."

"I thought it was water."

"Alright, that's it. This is war now."

Eliza whipped out her phone. "I'll tell the others to come inside. And then we'll have some fun."

The guests looked up when more girls with leather jackets poured into the house. One of them attracted the most attention: an Asian girl with flowers in her hair and a massive back tattoo visible from underneath her cropped tank top. She entered the room with a baseball bat.

"Mei?" Erika asked. "You're out of jail?"

"They couldn't find evidence."

"Awesome!"

"Mei," Eliza said, "can you get this party started?"

"Sure. Here, hold this." She handed Erika the baseball bat. "I'm sure you know where he keeps his sports awards."

"I do!"

"Go on, then. Make me proud."

Erika ran upstairs with the bat.

"We're all ready."

"Excellent. Let's get to it."

Mei spat out her chewing gum on the designer carpet and walked over to the table. She rolled her shoulders, grabbed the wood, and flipped the table over. All eyes were on her at once. Some shifted uncomfortably, preparing to leave. "Now, who of you wants to dance?"

Anya grabbed the vodka and poured it out over the TV. Eliza turned the music way up and high fived Natalia after the latter threw a vase into the dishware cabinet, shattering them both. "I always hated posh houses," she growled.

"What the hell is this?" Alfred and his posse appeared at the top of the stairs. "This is my house!"

Manon climbed the stairs, lighting a cigarette. "And that's our sister you're messing with."

"What? Who?"

Erika ran out of a room, dragging the heavy baseball bat behind her. "I got them all!"

"What? What did you do to my trophies?!" Alfred ran into the room she'd come out of. "I'll kill you!"

Manon wrapped an arm around Erika's shoulders. "If you want to get to our sister, you'll have to get through us first."

Erika looked up at the cigarette. "Can I have that too?"

"No. Don't ever start." She put the cigarette out on the staircase, burning a hole in the oak wood.

Alfred came at them, but Mei caught up with them. "Oh, you're a tough guy? You want to fight?"

"I wouldn't do it if I were you," Erika said to Alfred. "She's good."

"I can handle some girl!" He tried to grab Mei, but she evaded him and took his arm into a tight hold. With one move of her leg, she had him on the ground, unable to escape.

"Wow! That was awesome!" Erika cheered.

Mei blew a strand of hair out of her face. "My old man taught me a thing or two." She took Alfred's phone and gave it to Erika. "Have fun."

Erika looked over the balustrade. She threw the phone down, and it landed straight into a bowl of punch. "I did it!"

"Nice shot," Manon said.

She turned back to Alfred, wanting more. "I want him to say sorry."

"Who? Alfred?"

"Yes."

Mei grabbed Alfred's arm tighter. "You heard her."

"Go to He—ouch!"

"Apologize. Now."

"S-Sorry…" Alfred whimpered.

"Now throw him in the pool!" Erika said, bouncing with excitement.

"Alright, into the pool with you." Mei pulled Alfred up and dragged him down the stairs, Erika and Manon following behind. A lot of the guests had escaped before it got too bad, others were staying to watch the chaos unfold. Alfred's friends were nowhere to be seen.

"You're insane!" Alfred shouted.

"A little insane. A little misunderstood." Mei put Alfred on a desk chair. "Who would like the honor?"

"Me!" Erika grabbed the back of the chair.

"I'll help too," Natalia said. "We want him to make a good splash."

Eliza grabbed her phone to start filming. "Go ahead."

They started running, pushing the chair forward while Alfred screamed and tried to get out, but not knowing how to do so without crashing onto the stone. They let go at the last moment and the chair flew over the edge of the swimming pool, crashing right in the middle of it.

"We did it!" Erika cheered, watching Alfred come back up, his glasses lost somewhere in the water.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Mei said.

They headed to the front of the house where the once stylized bushes were now burning like torches. Anya emptied a bottle of wine on the white front door and threw the bottle into the garden.

They got onto their motorcycles, the sounds of them revving their engines enough to wake up the whole neighborhood. "Hop on up," Eliza said.

Erika climbed behind her on the motorcycle. "I can't wait to have one of my own."

Eliza chuckled. "You'll need a license first."

"I know. I'm already saving up."

"We can help."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're our sister, motorcycle or not. We'll always be there for you."

She smiled and hugged Eliza from behind.

They stopped a few houses away from where Erika lived. "That was awesome," she said, climbing off the bike. "Best party ever."

"Glad to hear you enjoyed it," Eliza said. "Don't let anyone walk over you the way that Alfred boy did."

"I won't."

"Good. And if he ever bothers you again, just give us a call."

"Will do!" She went around the group, hugging and saying goodnight. "I'll see you all tomorrow!"

"Finish your homework first, though," Anya said.

"I will."

"And no skipping class."

"Nope." She yawned and pulled her jacket tighter around her.

Eliza smiled. "Hurry. The sun will come up soon."

"Bye!" She hurried to her house.

The girls waited until Erika was safely inside. "We could have gone harder on that boy," Mei said. "This is our sister we're talking about."

"She's satisfied, though," Manon said. "That's all that matters."

Mei nodded and turned her bike around. The rest followed, and soon the street was filled with the sound of their engines as they rode away.

And with that, the Daughters of Darkness disappeared into the night.

#hetaliacc #hetalia #fanfic #aph lichtenstein #aph hungary #aph belgium #aph taiwan #aph belarus #aph ukraine #aph america #aph prussia #aph denmark

2 notes · View notes

scribbling-stiks · 3 years

Text

AAR - XXX - Starry Skies

"Netti?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Could you bring me a notepad and a pen please?"

"Okay," Connecticut says. They get up and walk over to the piles of supplies to grab the items. Russia gives them a smile as they approach.

"Here you go," Connecticut says as they gently hand the paper to America.

"Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem."

America clicks the pen and begins writing. America tosses the notepad onto the floor and he lies across Russia's lap to reach it, holding to phone right beside the pad of paper. Russia feels his face heat up a little, but he tries his best to ignore it.

-Ukraine

-São Paulo

-Rio De Janeiro

-Brazil

-Aure

-Mexico

-Italy

America glances at Russia before raising the phone up for Russia to see.

"Can you identify the other ones? Geography was never my thing."

Russia nods and America hands him the phone. Russia makes a grabby hand motion for the pen and America hands it over easily. Russia examines the maps closely before grabbing the notepad. He lays the paper onto America's back and begins listing the countries he recognized had been marked off.

-Nigeria

-France

-Egypt

Then Russia notes that some of his own states had gone missing. His eyes widen and he feels a pang in his chest.

'How did I not notice?'

"What's wrong?"

"Some of my own states had gone missing," Russia reluctantly admits.

"That's not good," America mutters, "did you ever have a close relationship with any of them?"

Russia shakes his head.

"No. We were business partners, but I can't leave them in captivity."

America nods in understanding.

-Burgat

-Mari El

-Sakha

Unfortunately, with the poor quality of the photos, Russia couldn't make out any more marked-off countries. The blurry quality made it nearly impossible to tell which markings were extra notes and which ones are marking off smaller countries or states. He squints, but can't get any more useful information from the maps.

Russia sighs in annoyance. Then he feels America sit up a little. The notepad begins sliding down America's back and Russia snatches it up before it hits the ground. The sudden movement snaps Russia out of his stupor and he listens. The kids are quieter. Looking closer, he sees that many of them seem excited and the older states had the lanterns in hand.

"What does he mean by constellations?" asks Newfoundland.

"It's hard to explain," Maine says, "but it's really cool. You'll just have to wait."

America pulls himself up and clears his throat. The kids spin to look at him and America smiles.

"Okay kiddos, turn off the lights and cover windows."

The states cheer and rush around to bathe the building in darkness. It takes Russia a moment for his eyes to adjust and he sees the kids stumbling over each other trying to find a space to sit on the floor. America turns to Russia with a smirk.

"Hey Rue, wanna see something cool?"

Russia nods and America slowly gets up. Russia follows. America stops in the middle of the room and Russia stops beside him.

"Russ, you gotta sit down!" Iowa says, and she and Minnesota pull Russia to the ground.

America stands tall and spreads his hands.

"Three," America starts, and a chorus of voices join him, "two. One!"

Then the entire room is filled with stars. Russia's jaw drops. Static electricity fills the air.

Dots of different intensity dance against the walls and ceilings. They move around the room, hypnotizing everyone watching. The room goes completely silent, and Russia feels like he's no longer in some abandoned warehouse, but instead swimming in one of his father's star charts.

Soft blue lines begin to connect the stars and constellations build themselves in the sky above. small specks sparkle in the background as the Big Dipper forms and Ursa Major begins to prowl the night sky. Russia looks at America in amazement and sees a faint blue glow from his eyes. Russia's gaze returns to the ceiling and walls and he watches in amazement as the stars and constellations come to life. He sees Orion running across the night sky, on the hunt.

Whisps of magic swirl in the air and Russia watches with wonder. America takes a deep breath, and Russia's head whips back to him. He watches America raise his hands and lowers them slowly with fascination.

Now, Ursa Major descends from the ceiling with Ursa minor at its side. They appear in faint blue masses that prowl just above the heads of the states.

Russia stares in awe. His eyes grow wide and he tries to see as much as his mind can process.

Ursa Major gets closer and Russia finds himself reaching out to touch. Then Orion, his belt a glowing line of stars, lands in front of him, fighting off the bears. Orion pulls back and draws his bow. He pulls back and hits Ursa Major with an arrow of stars. Ursa Major lets out a silent scream before dissolving into a sea of sparks that fade into nothing.

A serpent about 1/2 a meter in diameter forms above them and it silently slithers away from the ceiling, sliding effortlessly through the air. It snakes through the states, faintly illuminating them as it navigates around them. It approaches Russia and Russia reaches out. His hand dips into a cool mist as it enters the serpent's body. The snake keeps moving while light blue magic swirls out behind Russia's fingers, fading into the air.

Breathless, Russia stares back up to the ceiling as the stars rearrange, and a scorpion emerges to attack the serpent. The snake quickly approaches the ceiling and the scorpion strikes. The snake recoils before lunging to bite.

The two explode into stars that rain down upon them, showing them in cool, fading sparks that disappear when Russia tries to catch them. The stars slowly fade away, the brightest ones being the last to disappear. After Ursa minor finally fades into nothing, the states cheer. Russia stares up at the ceiling, now just as dark as the rest of the room had been.

"Alright," America says, "turn on the lights so no one steps on each other."

America turns to Russia and smiles.

"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies," America says, snapping Russia out of his trance.

"*That was amazing!*" Russia exclaims, jumping to his feet, "How did you do that?"

"Wanted to figure out how to see the stars when I couldn't go outside and it just went from there," America says with a shrug.

"How much magic can you do?" Russia asks, breathless.

"Combat wise? Not much. I can only really use the scythe. Otherwise, I can heal and do light shows," America says, waving his hands to gesture to the rest of the room, "It's really not that big of a deal."

Russia grabs America's shoulders and stares him in the eye.

"*That was absolutely amazing. I've never seen anything like that,*" Russia explains.

"See Dad, we've been trying to tell you it was cool," New York adds.

Finland moves to stand and adds, "It's a display to take your breath away."

America looks away with a pink tinge to his cheeks.

"Come on guys," America says, running a hand through his hair, "it was just a light show."

"Why did you ever tell me you could do that?!" Canada shouts, "I would've made you that every time you visited!"

"Yeah Uncle Aim!" Alberta shouts.

"Why didn't you guys ever tell us?!"

"You never asked!"

"But it's so awesome! You should've told us your dad could do that."

America looks down, his face going almost completely red. Russia admires the look and America latches onto him, burying his face into Russia's shoulder as if hiding from the praise. Russia laughs and hugs him back.

"It was really pretty. Just like you," Russia teases, poking the side of America's face.

America squirms away, and he dives for the mat they had been sitting on, hiding in the blankets. Russia laughs and runs up behind him. He lands next to America and pulls him out of the blankets. America squeaks and tries to pull away. Russia holds tighter.

"Absolutely beautiful," Russia says, searching his English vocabulary for more words.

"No!" America shrieks.

"Lots of talent."

"Rue! Stop!"

"Best Dad ever!" Montana cheers.

"And teacher!"

"And fighter!"

America groans and vehemently shakes his head.

"Good. Fun," Russia lists.

"Rue stop. You know that's not true."

"Cute."

America covers his face with his hands.

"Hmm. Yes, very cute," Russia says, covering America's face with feathery light kisses. America wriggles around and starts giggling uncontrollably. Russia pulls away and smiles at the flustered mess in his lap.

"I hate you," America says with a pout, crossing his arms and puffing up his cheeks.

Russia smirks and leans down, gently capturing America's mouth in a tender kiss. America kisses back, leaning up to meet him. Russia smiles against America's lips.

Russia pulls away and America turns away, his arms still crossed and his face a hot pink.

"That changes nothing," America insists. Russia hums in amusement.

"Really!" America shouts, swatting at Russia's arm.

"Okay," Russia replies with a smile.

America huffs and leans back into Russia's lap.

"You suck."

"Okay."

"I hate you."

"Okay."

"Not really though. I can't actually hate you. That's like impossible. But I hate you for getting me like this."

"Okay."

"You're a jerk."

Russia chuckles, hugging America closer.

"I love you," Russia says, nuzzling America's forehead.

"I love you too," America grumbles.

Russia beams.

"You don't have to be a smug b****** about it," America mutters, shooting Russia an embarrassed glare.

Russia just grins. America pouts, turning to lay his ear down on Russia's chest. There seems to be a crowd around one of the windows by the door and Russia looks up and sees Texas keeping others from pulling down the curtains. Russia catches his eye, and Texas tilts his head to gesture outside before shaking his head.

"Don't want them to see what's outside," he seemed to say.

Russia nods and turns his attention back to America, who is grumbling angrily and affectionately tracing shapes into the fabric of Russia's sweater.

Table of Contents

#rusame #ch russia #ch america #statehumans #countryhumans

3 notes · View notes

cassinixii · 5 years

Photo

Title: 3Kingdoms | the broken prince -- completed audition Published: May 12, 2017 | 11:53pm Description:

Three Kingdoms Initial Audition Template See instructions here: http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=221021141

Your Name: Telperion Username: @/cassinixii 1st Choice Role: The Broken Prince 2nd Choice Role: The Captain 3rd Choice Role: The Trickster

OC Name: Prince Adalbert Francesco Ernest Pereret Age: 29 Face claim: Tom Hiddleston (I don't think he's taken, but he is popular, or was the last time I was here, so do let me know if someone else has already taken him)

Role: THE BROKEN PRINCE Male, 20+ - The heir to the throne in Sivalon, possesses illegal magic ability and fears the powerful magic he wields. Is fairly close to the Half-Breed Princess but to not much else.

Nationality: Sivalonian Occupation: Crown Prince

Personality: Charming and collected, he's generally always smiling (not in a war room, that would be inappropriate). He simultaneously seems inviting, but keeps people at a distance. He tries to be completely diplomatic at all times, not wanting to show favour to one person's opinion or another, when it comes to his Father, however, he doesn't display distain, nor enthusiastic favour, but bows his head as a "good son" and follows orders, or rather royal commands, which is, quite frankly, everything the Regnant Monarch says or does. He's a bit arrogant and vain, especially when it comes to his physical abilities, but possesses the qualities any good 15th century prince should have, especially a crown prince. He's well-mannered, courageous, honourable, just, and particularly dutiful. From birth, it was drilled into his head what responsibilities he is bound to and must fulfil as crown prince, and eventual King, and has always obeyed them. Mind you, there was a bought of spoilt, selfish and bruteness in his teenaged years, he was more of a "I can do what I like because Daddy's King and has an army" and "fight me" type, but he's matured, considerably, since. Mostly. Tiny bit of a "fight me" type still, but one day, probably soon, someone's going to absolutely deck him, and he's got a bit of a guilt complex, so he'll feel he deserved it, regardless of whether or not he did. He's also extremely unwilling to let others fix his mistakes or problems he's caused.

Adalbert is primarily motivated, in literally everything he does, by his love for his Kingdom and family, and constantly considers what would most benefit them. When it comes down to it, he would choose his country over the world, but hus country is in the world, so it's not like that would be an option, however, potentially defying his father, the King, which by definition makes him the Kingdom, is another matter, and a constant dilemma for the princeling (well, just prince, he's almost 30 now, but I like the word "princeling". It's a good word). He's more lenient and anti-pointless wars than his father in nature, and prefers the diplomatic approach, and generally has less extreme reactions than his father to, well everything. The King's pretty extra in everything (or at least, that's the impression I've got. Evil, yes, but also extremely extra), Adalbert is more measured. He's also quite good at hiding his true feelings, having grown adept after years of carrying commands of his father's, regardless of whether or not he agreed with them, as well as needing to suppress his emotions to keep his powers from showing themselves. But due to this, he has difficulty expressing his true emotions to most, with the exception of the half-breed princess and a little bit the oblivious queen. Additionally, due to his constant suppressing of emotions, when his anger is brought forth, it's quite violent, both with a explosive manifestation of his powers and aggressive physical behaviour, with which is he more adept at and comfortable with using, generally though, such a situation would require immediate threat to the lives of his loved ones.

Brecht has more complicated feelings in regards to magic. He was taught from a young age that it's impure and should be destroyed, but additionally has magic himself, and has been hiding it from a young age. He's more willing to accept not all magic practioners are evil, however, his upbringing has generally taught him to greatly distrust and despise it, which he more or less does. He's rather fickle about it and uncertain, and his opinion on magic and it's users does often sway, he also lacks the conviction to actually stick up for his potential/temporary positions that magic users should not all be killed, and generally hides behind his father's back in a sort of "well, maybe they shouldn't all be killed, but Daddy said so, what can you do." He feels regretful about wiping about entire families simply due to one largely inheritable trait, but hasnâ€™t done anything to stop it and generally deflects blame onto his father.

Abilities/Skills: - raw magic: ice manipulation (he's completely untrained, and in moments of extreme emotion can freeze an entire room, possibly more. He hasn't really explored his abilities and tries his best to always remain level headed and calm to keep them at bay, and always wears an iron ring on his right forefinger. As for how he got the magic, I generally plan for it to be inherited because I love irony, but after initial auditions, I'm open to one of the other magical roles having cursed him instead) - fluency in many languages, including, but not limited to; German, Italian, Latin, French, Spanish, and English. - extremely skilled sword fighter, a skilled fighter in general, he's adept at many a weapon, including a mace, morning star, lance, and can throw the pointy ones at a target (moving and stationary) with quite the degree of accuracy, but the sword remains his preferred weapon. Contrary to his overall personality, he has an extremely aggressive fighting style, as well as agile and quick moving, he nearly always strikes to kill. He's also ambidextrous (with weapons), but favours his left. - excellent strategist (and literally the only thing he's okay with openly disagreeing with his father about) - skilled diplomat - amateur historian

Hobbies: - riding - reading (mainly history, particularly about wars) - training with a sword (it's the equivalent of yoga for him. Or "doga", which is such bullsh!t. It was on BGT this year, and it's total garbage. It's not a talent, and why on earth would anyone pay to do it let alone watch it?)

General History: (kept this shorter since I went super overboard on the personality. I'll expand a lot more if I get him.)

Having been born the heir of a great and powerful Kingdom (pretty sure that's Sivalon's official tagline, if taglines existed in the 1400's), he was trained in the art of monarchy and princeship from birth. He remained untrained, however, in the art of magic. According to his mother he was born cold, but his earliest memory of his powers manifesting is around the age of 5, since when he started wearing at least one iron piece of jewelry (he originally tired to wear every piece of iron he could find before his mother yelled at him and reminded him that such a thing would incur suspicion).

When his powers began manifesting he remained primarily absent from court, only in the company of his mother and her most trusted companions, and later his sister. He increased his activities once he could better suppress his powers, and eventually became active in his father's council (I'm guessing privy, but not really sure how much of real historical royal court practices and/or systems coincide with this fantasy one, so I'll leave all those questions to if I get him and then the second stage of auditions).

He maintains close relationships with his mother and sister, both of whom he is extremely close to, as for his father, that's more complicated. He was close, kind of, with his Father when he was younger, essentially when he was learning horse riding, sword fighting, and all the "male" skills and hobbies taught to Royal children, but their prior visits were specifically engineered to be short, which wasn't exactly uncommon for Kings and their children during the time period anyway, but it was mainly because daddy is magic-murder happy, and little princeling was kept away until he could learn to control his emotions and keep his powers hidden or at least at bay for the tea break with daddy. More theological differences emerged as Brecht sharpened his own mind, but he choice not to voice those disagreements, opting instead to internalize and change things when he is king, as well as distance himself from the king.

Why did they join the rebellion?: Well, he's a bit on the fence regarding the rebellion, he certainly doesn't want to usurp his Father's throne, nor kill him, however, he's motivated to protect his sister, the half-breed princess. Some potential changes could be made after initial auditions (if I get him), but his motivation is protection of someone or something. He's more fickle regarding magic and magical beings themselves (as discussed above), but to protect his loved ones and his kingdom, he'll do anything, including dethroning his father (or ideally getting him to soften his position, but even Brecht knows that's a crazy persons' dream).

Other: - Nicknames: Brecht and Elbert - "adalbert" is the ancient Germanic form of "Albert", and is composed of Ancient German elements; "adal", meaning "noble" and "beraht", meaning "bright". But if I'm being honest, I simply named him after Prince Consort to Queen Victoria I of Great Britain, Prince Albert of the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha - why yes, I did change his middle name from the Germanic "Franz" to Italian "Francesco" because of the robbing of Francesco Gabbani in Kiev, Ukraine on May 13th 2017. (Portugal's entry was fine, but Francesco had the best song!!) - I'm considering increasing his age to 30-32, and doing the math for the dark king, it fits better with the time period (the age of reproduction â€¦ beginning? much earlier back then. *please imagine better phrasing, urg, the age of "actually having kids" sounds better.) - not fond of ice, or water in general, mainly due to his powers, and thus cannot swim and experiences sea sickness, and rather uncomfortable in (on?) ships. - slightly stealing from @/drownedinmoonlight's template A form here, but I really associated the song "City Lights" by Blanche with him. It's a little modern, but the lines "all alone in the danger zone, are you ready to take my hand. All alone in the flame of doubt, are we going to lose it all." and some other lines really suit the broken prince and the half-breed princess in general. (also I can't go on by Robin Bengtsson, but that's more about my personal feelings towards Mr. Hiddleston) - this is for no one's benefit but mine (and anyone who actually bothered to read all the way done here, thank you so very much), but I started out with him being inspired by Loki, but mostly Morgana (from the BBC Merlin series), but then I realized how Prince Zuko he is when I was going through my items, but there's also from inspiration from the actual Henry V of England.

Tag @/lunaofthemiste and @/sakuuya

Tag 5+: @/general-sux @/albamonkey @/vany-alvarado @/brofeysons @/agirlthatfellinlovewithnumberten @/buckbarns @/kjvdolly @/katrinavalenzula

Group Link: http://www.polyvore.com/three_kingdoms_an_oc_battle/group.show?id=209554 -------------------- As a completely unrelated aside, Italy was robbed at the eurovision song contest, and I can't believe gay icon Slavko didn't get into the grand final, but homophobe of the year (2006) guy from Croatia did. Wtf Europe and Australia?!

#three kingdoms #audition #brecht pereret #2017 #polyvore #cassinixii

2 notes · View notes