#While romania seemingly is not.

[estbela]

Me thinking about the fact that during the 19th and 20th centuries there were several proposals to unify romania and bulgaria, mostly made by bulgarians: alrighty, now how can I make this angsty

[poisonlove]

Break up | j.o

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X reader

It was a cold and foggy day in Romania, the gray sky seemingly merging perfectly with the gloomy and surreal atmosphere surrounding the set of Wednesday, Tim Burton's new project. I was walking down the corridor leading to the lounge, nervously clutching my jacket around me. The damp and biting air seemed to penetrate to the bone, but the tension inside me was even more oppressive. It had been three months since I last saw Jenna. Between my commitment to a horror film set in Los Angeles and Jenna’s long days of filming, our lives had intertwined in a chaos of distance and frenzy. That’s why I had decided to surprise my girlfriend.

"Hey." I nervously smiled at Emma, while her blue eyes sparkled with amusement, noticing my agitation.

"Jenna’s in there," she said with a smirk, pointing me toward the direction that would lead me to my girlfriend.

I nodded in understanding and made my way to the door that led to the lounge. The room was large but relatively quiet: a coffee machine in one corner of the room, a table, chairs, and a sofa at the other end. A few staff members were bustling around with cameras and props, my eyes searching for the one I loved and admired so much.

There she was.

Jenna was sitting on the sofa, her usual headphones around her ears, allowing her to isolate herself from the world while flipping through what looked like a script. I approached her, my heart pounding, and positioned myself in front of her. Her brown eyes slowly scanned my figure, so slowly that I could feel my heartbeat increase by the second. When her eyes met mine, I sighed and gave a spontaneous smile.

"Hi," I said with a small smile on my lips.

Jenna took off her headphones and left them around her neck.

She blinked in surprise. "I wasn’t expecting this," she murmured timidly, making me frown in confusion.

She got up from the sofa and gave me a quick hug, but it felt so strange and forced. "Is everything okay?" I asked nervously, a strange feeling creeping into my gut.

Jenna took a step back and looked at me without blinking, a small smile on her lips. "Yes... I’m just tired," she replied, her gaze drifting off into space. "This project is draining me."

I nodded, trying to smile in a way that would ease the tension. "I understand, maybe we can spend some time together afterward... you know, watch a movie or something."

"I don’t know, I have a cello lesson," she said calmly, her tired eyes meeting mine. Huge dark circles underlined the sleepless nights she had been through.

"Dinner, maybe?" I asked hopefully.

Jenna nodded timidly, but there was no enthusiasm on her face, only acknowledgment. I placed my hands on her waist and leaned in to capture her lips with mine. The kiss was mechanical. Her lips, once soft and warm, were now cold and distant.

Something was wrong.

"Jenna, can we talk?" I asked in concern. Something was off, and I needed answers.

She sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall, frowning. "Break’s almost over, I have to get back to the set."

Frustration started to build.

"It won’t take long, I promise," I insisted. I felt my voice tremble, but I couldn’t let this slip away without an explanation.

I took Jenna’s hand and led her toward the exit of the lounge. The biting cold hit my face immediately, making me feel the chill down to my bones. Jenna wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shield herself from the icy wind as her eyes watched me with a mix of anticipation and frustration. She quickly glanced around, almost cautiously, making sure no one was nearby before turning her attention back to me.

"What’s going on, Jenna?" My voice was a whisper, my fear too evident. I couldn’t ignore this distance between us.

She looked at me for a long moment, her expression impassive as if she were trying to find the right words. Finally, she sighed loudly. "Nothing, I’m just tired from work."

"Jenna..." I started, immediately picking up on her lie.

"Really, it’s nothing," she said with a smile.

"It’s not true," I insisted, the anger of being deceived taking over. "I know you, Jenna. Please, tell me what’s going on," I pleaded with a small voice, fear growing in my chest.

A tense silence settled between us, and my nervousness grew with each passing second. Jenna lowered her gaze, then raised it again with a look full of unease, as if a secret torment was consuming her. "I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what I want... We... we’ve been moving too fast," she finally admitted, her voice faltering with hesitation.

The realization hit me.

"What? Are you trying to say that..." I started, tears threatening to spill at any moment. No, it couldn’t be true. All the months spent together, the video calls, the kisses... Everything made sense.

Jenna looked at me with guilt.

"I..." she began, tears welling up in her eyes. Her lower lip trembled, and the awareness of what was about to happen hit me like a punch to the stomach.

"I’m exhausted, y/n," she admitted.

I quickly shook my head, unable to accept her words. "We can make it, Jenna. We can do it together," I suggested nervously, unwilling to give up so easily.

Jenna shook her head, making me feel an intense pain in my chest. "No, y/n. The distance, the work, all of this is hurting me," she confessed.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"It’s over between us," she murmured.

The world collapsed around me. There was nothing left to do; Jenna had already made her decision. I looked at her in pain, tears running down my cheeks as she gazed at me with sadness, the pain visible on her face.

"I’m sorry..." she added in a broken voice.

I bit my lower lip, trying to stifle a sob, and bowed my head, hiding my emotions. My heart was shattered, and a feeling of emptiness dominated my stomach. It was over. I turned my back and walked away from the set, the awareness that Jenna had left me dominating my thoughts.

Don’t turn back. Don’t turn back. Don’t go to her to try to change her mind. Don’t look into her eyes.

Don’t do anything.

Just move forward, even though the world had fallen apart.

[makncheese12]

Big Girl

A/N: I want you guys to know I’m still very confused with ‘to’ and ‘too’ it’s very aggravating

Stats: requested

Jenna Ortega X bodyguard!GN!reader

“It’s gettin’ crowded out there,” your colleague says as you both glance out the front doors of the hotel Jenna was staying at. There were no flashes yet but they stood ready for when she came out.

Though you had grown used to the cameras and having the fend off the paparazzi, you were still anxious about getting her through them with their persistent pushing to get a good picture.

You had to fight urges to shove them and away from her, yell in their faces for pushing her, hell even hide her away to prevent those things but you knew it’s what they wanted. A reaction from someone to have a big headline of the sort and you didn’t want to give them that satisfaction.

“Yeah,” you mumble before looking back toward the stairs. “So make sure she can get through.” He nods in response, sensing the nerves you always tend to have when there were big crowds.

“She’ll be fine, she always is with you around.” He replies as people begin to shout toward a celebrity who walks out.

You nod and can’t help but agree. While Jenna was out in Romania you decided to become a body guard just for her sake. You knew she would become big after seeing the responses to preview to the Wednesday Series.

It wasn’t like you didn’t really trust other body guards that were issued to celebrities, but you were to afraid they’ll look away for one moment and she’ll be pulled into a crowd of adoring fans.

So who better than to be her personal body guard than you? You were big enough and with enough working out you had the strength to push through crowds for her.

Jenna enjoyed the idea, you following her around like a big dog and possessively protecting her from the paparazzi. She liked the idea so much she even told you she’d pay for the training herself.

You, of course, declined and went straight into training. After a few months of sore muscles and long lectures, you were flown out to Romania immediately by her demand to start working.

The man next to your now was your partner during training and he seemed capable of keeping the paps away, especially with how much bigger he was than you.

“How do I look?” You ask looking down at yourself, he barely glances at you, smirk evident on his face. “Same as before, just a different shade.”

You press your lips together before hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “Funny,” you mumble rolling your eyes.

“She’s on her way down.”

A voice sounds through the small microphone in your ear making both you and the man next to you stand up straight, ready to help Jenna through the crowd.

“I’ll go forward a bit, make a little path for you both.” He states before looking you over. “You look good though.” He says with a nod before making his way over to the double door, standing at the ready.

You smile softly before glancing up toward the stairs where Jenna walked down along with another woman you only send a glance toward.

You can’t help your smile from growing at the sight of her. She had shedding down from her tuxedo dress and the long cape that came after it. It left her in the white button and her little bow. The corset only added to the feature as it hugged her curves perfectly and you wondered if she had anything on to cover her bottom half.

The thought is quickly dispelled when her eyes land on yours, seemingly lighting up as her pace quickens.

You take a step out of the corner as she nears you, eyes still scanning over her to take in the view you were given.

She had looked absolutely ethereal earlier in her gown for the Met Gala but this? This was much better than what you could ask for.

Sure, you saw parts of Jenna the world would never see but it still felt like a blessing when you saw how she looked everyday. From the moment you both wake up to the time you both lay down for bed and close your eyes. And it was truly a blessing to you.

One you were eternally grateful for and will be to the day you die.

“Take a picture, it should last longer.” You wish you could. You only roll your eyes at her comment before she stops in front of you, cheeky smile as she leans slightly forward toward you.

“You look stunning, as usual.” You say, grabbing her arm gently and pulling her cheek to your lips. She lets out a quiet huff before looking over you. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Her eyes settle on your chest for a moment before reaching out and readjusting your bow tie then looking up at you.

“Ready?” You ask glancing toward the cameras that are already flashing. “Almost,” she mumbles before leaning up on her tippy toes — the heels giving her a little more height but not enough — and grabbing the sides of your face and pulling your down a little.

The kiss is gentle yet passionate, the feeling sending tingles down your body as you feel yourself melt in her grasp. All thoughts of having to protect her gone and making it feel like she was the one who had to protect you in your bubbly state.

She pulls away slowly with a smile on her face before nodding. “Now I’m ready.” She says smooth out her corset before patting your jacket.

You laugh lightly before holding out your arm for her and she takes it immediately. You pull your sunglasses down as you make your way out the doors, the cameras flashing quickly as you both pass, yelling things and asking you to turn slightly but you continue on toward the car.

————

You giggled quietly as you walked Jenna out of the doors, she stumbled around slightly before gripping your arm tighter to steady herself.

She seemed to have a lot of fun, especially once to alcohol hit her system and she would wander off without you.

You didn’t need to follow her though because you knew no one could hurt her inside and away from the people so you let her do her thing and find you once she was done with whatever she was doing.

Occasionally she would come back to find you, check on you with a little light flirting you fed into before getting distracted and going back into the crowd leaving you to go back to drinking and conversating with the dates of others.

Now, you kept a firm hold around her waist as she leaned into you, trying to keep herself up right.

She suddenly slightly pushes off of you once the cold air hits and begins walking on her own. You laugh lightly as you follow closely behind her.

“Where are you going?” You ask matching her walking rhythm as she looks around slightly, ignoring the paparazzi and waving toward her fans.

“I’m going to the car,” she says looking back at you with a mischievous smile you had grown fond of even if it lead to unexpected things. “I can walk by myself, I’m a big girl.” She sticks her tongue out teasingly as she continues to walk confidently in no real direction.

“Okay,” you laugh out before stopping and turning slightly. She sends a glance back at you and slows her pace, a confused look setting on her face as you begin walking in the other direction, resembling that of a lost child.

you can’t help but stare in awe at the sight, fighting the urge to follow back after to her.

“But as a big girl you should know that’s the wrong way.” You call out and through your hand up to wave toward her.

It takes her a moment to process, looking back in the other direction then back toward you before hurriedly walking after you.

You stop a moment to let her catch up, afraid she’ll fall in her heels if she moves to quickly and allow her to slide her arm through yours.

“Oh?” You hum out as you begin walking again, amused by the situation given to you on a silver platter. It was always so fun to watch drunk Jenna, even if she was a little tipsy. “I thought you were a big girl.”

“I am,” she argues quickly, sending you a warning glare when you bark out a laugh. “Big girls can use a little help sometime though, especially if it’s from people like you.”

You look toward her with a raised eyebrow but she doesn’t see as she raises her chin and closes her eyes, small smile on her face.

“Like me?” You ask and look forward to make sure you both don’t trip and fall.

“Yes, breathtaking people like you.” She gives you a doe eyed look, clearly intent on making you flustered. It works as your cheeks heat up and your smile grows to a wide one. You cover it up by snorting quietly and shake your head.

She had always had this effect on you, even before you started dating and even now when she’s half drunk and doesn’t know where she’s going. Especially now.

“You’re the one whose breath taking, I’m just in a simple tux as usual.” You shoot back and she lets her face fall, unamused. “I like your ‘usual’ tux, it makes you look sexy.” She grumbles and pinches your arm.

“Ow.” You laugh out as she lets out a quiet huff as breeze passes by causing her to shiver lightly. You frown lightly before wrapping your arm around her shoulders and she immediately leans in.

You loved little moments like this. Moments where you didn’t have to worry about getting her from one place to another or dragging her about. Moments where you didn’t have to worry about someone picking her up and trying to kidnap her. Moments where you could just relax a little.

It was nice to have a peaceful moment to breath and take in each others presence every once in a while. Sure, it was just like this in the privacy of your home far more open inside but it wouldn’t kill you to also be able to go out and stretch to do the same.

Jenna suddenly breaths in heavily before letting out a sigh of content. “You smell good.” She mumbles and you smile. “All the more reason big girls need help.”

Her comment makes you roll your eyes with a laugh as you pull away from her reluctantly, nearing the large group of people nearby.

She lets out a whine as you grab her arm, you felt the same. You didn’t want to let go of her but you also needed to get passed everyone without any problems.

You pull your sunglasses down as the flashing of the camera begins and Jenna becomes a little more sober, though still stumbling around her faces goes back to the one she keeps up in front of the people.

The second body guard opens the door for you both as you cross the street and near the car.

He nods you to you as you gently lead Jenna inside and make sure she doesn’t hit her head. “Enjoy yourself?” He asks with a smile. The question was meant to be a teasing one, he knew how you didn’t like being near snobby celebrities who put on a face to seem like something your not.

But the evening had actually been good, especially after the few minutes you got to walk with Jenna.

“Very much so.” You smirk before following after her hearing his chuckle before the door shuts behind you.

As soon as you take your seat she presses her body against you, arms wrapping around you to the point where she practically sat in your lap.

You chuckle lightly as you slide your arm around her waist and allow her to rest her head on your shoulder.

“I’m tired.” She mumbles lowly, sinking further into like she had just fallen asleep after saying the words.

“We’ll be there soon, don’t fall asleep.” You reply, rubbing her back to sooth her a little but it only makes her more sleepy. “Or you can just wake me up when we get there.” she mumbles, burying her face further into your neck and taking a deep breath in.

“Big girls should wake themselves up.” You taunt before feeling another pinch on your arm. You look down to see the sleepy glare she sends you before smiling.

“Well this big girl needs you to wake her up,” she huffs out before going back to her original position. “After all you need to do what I say, you work for me.”

You hear the teasing tone in her sleepy voice.

“Oh, is that right?” You ask, challenging her slightly and she nods. “Yes it is, as my body guard you have to do what I say.”

You resist the urge to laugh out before she speaks again. “So, I’m telling you you have to wake me up.” She states matter-of-factotum as her breathing begins to slow down.

“And if I don’t?” Her face scrunches up lightly before it relaxes again. “Then I’ll have to fire you and lock you away.” She mumbles slowly in response before her breathing evens out signaling how tired she was.

You smile lightly before brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear to get a better look at her face. She didn’t have much make up on, not that she needed it. She was more than beautiful without it. She was a goddess. Your goddess you had to protect like the good little follower you were.

And you planned on doing so until she got tired of it.

You kiss her forehead lightly before resting your head back against the head rest of the seat to get a better look at it.

“Yes ma’am.” You mumble quietly taking in the view she oh so graciously gave you.

A/N: once again another short one but oh well

NOW REQUEST DAMN IT… pretty please

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Would you write a fic where it’s really warm in the village one summer so maid Reader is wearing a tank top with no bra around the house and Donna notices Reader has nipple piercings and becomes really flustered and obsessed with them. If you’re uncomfortable with the nipple piercings part feel free to eliminate that part completely <3

Yess!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Heat wave

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Maid! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word count: 4,350

Summary: You have to change your clothes, cause it's too hot there...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open, my inbox is empty and asking for yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“This is unbearable...” You murmured, wiping the sweat from your forehead and airing your uncomfortable maid clothes.

It wasn't usual to be so hot in that place, but that summer seemed like it was made especially to annoy you.

A lost village in Romania was the only place where you didn't plan to get hot. A visit to your family a while ago was what you needed to decide that you preferred that gloomy place to the modern world.

You were always the weird one, the strange one, the one who didn't fit in. Well, it might seem like a sinister coincidence, but in that sinister place there were people much stranger than you. Maybe the cold, the snow, the feeling of living in a completely different way, were the reasons that pushed you to make the decision to stay, and never return to your old life.

But, as expected of a young girl like you, you should work.

Gardener, farmer or maid, those were the available jobs, or at least the ones you would be willing to do, because to be Lord Moreau's test subject or Lord Heisenberg's metal worker were never among your options.

Luckily, you had the opportunity to work as a maid for one of the village Lords, a seemingly harmless one, although she was not at all: Donna Beneviento.

At least you had the recommendation of the all-mighty Mother Miranda.

At first working for that woman was strange. You barely saw her and you certainly didn't talk to her. You went three whole months without hearing a single word from her mouth. Well, Angie made it more entertaining, at least you could talk to her.

You were not ignorant, much less innocent. It didn't take long for you to start seeing a strange behavior from the lady in black, some shy curious approaches towards you and finally, a conversation.

Then more, and more, until you were finally able to see her face and strengthen the trust she had in you. Well, trust and… Something else, for sure.

Her beauty, her fragility, the darkness that was hidden behind her gray eye... All of this meant that Donna was not the only one who wanted to get closer. You could call it many things: irrational attraction, love, desire... But honestly, nothing you said regarding your feelings had reached her ears. Of course, Lady Beneviento had never said anything about it either.

You had feelings for her, and she had feelings for you. It was only a matter of time before that strange, annoying tension disappeared, but you didn't know when or how it would happen. Your patience was extensive, but little by little, it was shrinking.

You didn't want to lose your job. You didn't want Donna to tell you that you were wrong. You would have to wait for her to take the first step, but how? That was something that seemed impossible.

“You've been complaining all morning,” the Angie doll protested, the only company you normally had at that time of the morning. Donna spent a lot of time in the workshop. You started to think that this was her way of running away from you.

“I'm complaining because it's too hot, Angie,” you said, with a furious snort, untying your overly covered maid's dress. “This is horrible.”

“I don't feel hot,” the puppet said, with a cocky pose, to which you rolled your eyes.

“Well, how lucky you are,” you whispered with clenched teeth, running a hand over your sweaty forehead again.

“You're weak, (Y/N), Donna doesn't like that,” Angie said with a dark tone that made you turn your head sharply towards her.

“Doesn’t she? And what does Donna like?” You asked amused.

Angie definitely knew best. To think that maybe she said those kinds of things because she shared part of her mind with the lady of the house was like a relief to you.

“You should ask her that,” Angie said without further ado, plopping down on a sofa and thus vanishing your attempt to get information from that piece of porcelain.

You could have insisted, but that terrible heat was affecting your own health, making your body want to faint at that precise moment, or throw yourself into the soft, cool water of the waterfall.

“Hey, I can't take it anymore, Angie, I need to take off these infernal clothes at least,” you sighed, leaving the rag on a table and leaning on it, continuing to fan yourself with your hands.

“Donna sure likes that,” the doll murmured, in a discreet tone, but loud enough for you to hear it and smile mischievously.

“Oh, really?” You said, with a soft, velvety tone. The doll got off the couch and pretended to shrug her shoulders. “Hey, seriously, can I wear something different?”

“Wear whatever you want, you whiny maid. You can go naked if you want to,” Angie muttered, heading out of the room, as if what she said earlier had been something she shouldn't have said at all.

“Well, that's too much, isn't it?” You said to yourself, going up the stairs to enter your room and get rid of that horrible dress.

Carefully, you folded the clothes on the bed and looked for something more suitable for those horrible temperatures.

You didn't have a lot of things in your old suitcase, but a tank top and a skirt, a perhaps too short one, presented themselves to you as an acceptable alternative. You smiled satisfied at your choice and bent down to pick them up, but the sound of tearing fabric made you turn completely red.

“Oh, no...” You sighed as you felt the fabric of your bra hanging teasingly from your back. “Oh, great, fantastic... Now I have to sew it up,” you grumbled, studying that inopportune tear.

“Hey, whiny maid!” Angie's squeaky voice interrupted you just as you were threading the needle. “Donna wants an iced tea!”

“I'm coming! Shit…” You whispered, leaving your sewing kit aside.

One order from the lady in black was more than enough to turn you away from whatever you were doing. Well, almost anything. Picking up that top and skirt, you looked in the mirror, checking that the lack of your bra was not so obvious. It was, but you didn't think care, hurrying down the stairs and heading to the elevator.

The coldness of the drink you made along with the pleasant temperature of the basement made you feel more comfortable. You didn't even pay attention to the obvious revelation of your body in that top.

“Excuse me, my lady,” you whispered kindly, slowly opening the doors of the workshop. “Angie told me you wanted…”

The lady in black had her back turned, working tirelessly on her dolls. She barely paid any attention to you, she simply pointed to one side of the table so you could leave the tray you were carrying, causing only the sound of ice to interrupt that serene calm that always surrounded her.

“Here you go,” you whispered, glancing at Donna, who nodded gratefully.

“I've told you a thousand times not to call me...” She murmured with that hoarse voice that was almost addictive to you, slowly directing her gaze to yours. When her eye met your body, she remained silent, as if something had prevented her from continuing. “…My lady”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Donna. I always forget about that,” you said, leaning on the table casually and frowning because of her strange look. “Do you like it?”

“What?” She asked, looking away abruptly, something that made you look at your body, at what had caught her attention.

Oh no, no way. There was no chance that the elegant and lonely Donna Beneviento was looking at you bust, or maybe she was?

“The tea, do you like the tea?” You said amused, crossing your arms. She blinked erratically, glancing sideways at you again.

“Yes, I asked you for it,” she murmured, being interrupted by the sound of breaking wood.

Comically, the paintbrush she was carrying in her hand snapped in two, as if she had been exerting too much force on that little wooden stick.

“Oh, wow, let me help you,” you said, bending down to pick up one of the pieces, making her gaze return to your chest and her breathing become labored. “Hey, Donna, are you okay?” You asked worried.

It wasn't the first time that her mental problems played tricks on her in an absurd moment like that. You were used to it and besides, you loved that you were able to make her relax in your arms.

“I'm fine. The brush has just broken,” she murmured, with a superb expression, turning her body to return to the painting of that porcelain doll. You nodded suspiciously.

“Are you sure? If you’re having a crisis, you know you can tell me,” you said in a soft voice, standing up to rest your hands on her shoulders and observe her gestures and expressions. Looking weak or sick was one of the things Donna hated, and even more so in front of you.

“I’ve broken the breast, I mean, the brush,” she stammered, her face completely red. Oh yes, she was looking at your breasts.

“Okay...” You sighed, holding back your laughter. “I hope you don't mind that I’ve changed my clothes. It’s too hot here.”

Donna looked at you more discreetly, lowering her eye from your chest to your short skirt. Like a zombie, or a puppet, she shook her head as she tried to regain some of her composure.

“Yes, it’s, it’s hot,” she repeated, this time turning back to the table and looking for another brush in a vase.

“I was about to listen to Angie and go naked,” you said, amused, but on purpose, making poor Donna choke on her iced tea and comically break another of her paintbrushes.

“That, that would be a bit inappropriate, don't you think?” Donna said with a nervous smile, searching in the vase for another victim for her trembling hands.

You shrugged with a triumphant smile.

“Aren't you hot in that dress?” You ask, diverting the conversation to one that wouldn't make her so horribly nervous. The lady shook her head, her gaze fixed on the half-painted doll, very far from your indiscreet top.

“No,” the doll maker said dryly, with the tone of her voice asking you to leave the room as quickly as possible.

“Well, I guess that's admirable,” you sighed, moving a little closer to look at the meticulous work of the brush on the doll.

As you bent over, your cleavage was once again visible to Donna, who swallowed, pretending that she hadn't looked at it again, and cautiously left the brush on the table, probably to prevent her nerves from breaking it.

“(Y/N), I... I'm, I'm hungry,” she said, shaking her head and with a fake smile. “Could you prepare lunch?”

You nodded, releasing her from that scandalous view of your breasts.

“Sure, what do you want?” You asked kindly, separating yourself so she would stop shaking.

“I don't know,” she said, putting on a serious look and returning to that disastrously painted doll.

“Something refreshing?” You asked again, laughing internally at the reaction that your new look had provoked on her. “A salad could be a good idea.”

“Yes, that... Quick, go to make it... Per favore,” Donna said, moving her hand to indicate she wanted you to disappear.

 You gave her a bow that was intended to be elegant, but was blatantly mocking, and you left the workshop, putting a hand over your mouth to mitigate the laughter that her nervousness caused you.

“Wow, wow... Well, it seems like maybe I'm showing too many things,” you said, sighing, looking at yourself in the reflection of a pot.

Although you were embarrassed by the involuntary display of your body you were making, it seemed to create some kind of nervousness in the lady in black and that… That was good.

She had to take the first step.

You began to prepare the salad calmly, humming songs that seemed almost from a previous life. As you cut the lettuce, you remembered that nervous look, that look that went straight to how unsubtle your clothes were. Deep down you didn't want to be so direct, but you knew her. Maybe a healthy exhibitionism would bring out some of those feelings you knew Donna was repressing.

The sound of heels on the floor gave you a new opportunity to attack, one you weren't going to waste.

“Hey, Donna, come here,” you said, peeking out the door, making the lady in black stop in the hallway, upset at having been caught in something resembling an escape.

The woman sighed and walked slowly to where you were, looking as high as she could, above your eyes.

“What do you want? I was going to take… A shower,” she explained, a little crestfallen. “A cool one.”

“I knew you were hot,” you joked with a smile. “Look, I thought I could boil some chicken breast, I think it could fit very well in the salad, what do you think?”

“Breast...” The lady murmured, involuntarily returning to look at your chest, at those marked nipples that seemed to draw her attention in an almost uncontrollable way.

“Yes, chicken breast,” you said amused, with a slightly low and joking tone. She smiled, shaking her head and pretending nothing had happened.

“That's a good idea, (Y/N)” she said, regaining some of her composure and slowly backing away towards the exit, not giving you time to counterattack.

“Don't make the water too cold, you could catch a cold,” you murmured as advice, pretending that you didn't want to keep her by your side a bit longer.

“No, I... No,” Donna said hurriedly, cowardly running away from you.

You smiled, shaking your head. It was a sad, melancholic smile. That woman was important to you, Donna was important to you. You were almost obsessed with her, you thought about her, you dreamed about her... Maybe that desperation to know if the love you felt was reciprocated was turning you into a shameless exhibitionist.

“Do you like it?” You asked politely when you served lunch. She smiled innocently and nodded, much to your joy. Cooking for her was one of your favorite hobbies.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she said with a whisper, returning a smile.

“Well, let me know if you need anything, I'm going to eat too,” you commented, grabbing some salad, ready to get away, like in all meals.

“Wait,” Donna interrupted, making you turn around slowly. “You can, you can eat here with me if you want.”

“With you? But I’m your maid,” you said, surprised, but pleased by the offer.

“That's stupid. Sit here, please,” she asked you kindly, pointing to the chair in front of her with the fork.

“Okay, thank you,” you said with another elegant bow.

At first the meal was in silence, with nothing to say, just shy smiles and glances, glances that were always directed to the same place.

Donna wanted to be discreet, to pretend she wasn't looking at what you knew she was looking at. But you were even more subtle, noticing that detail, her nervous breathing when her eye looked at what it shouldn't.

You could continue playing at teasing the lady for much longer, but you decided to stop beating around the bush and see how far you could stretch the rope of her patience.

“My lady, are you looking at my tits?” You asked with an indifferent tone, one that didn’t show any offense or annoyance. You didn't even look at her. You just poured water in your glass.

Donna looked up with a frown, dropping the cutlery on the plate.

“I told you not to call me...” She began, with some offense in her voice until her eye opened and her face suddenly reddened. “What did you just say?”

“You're looking at my tits,” you repeated amused, crossing your arms so the objective of her gaze would become more evident.

“Of course, of course I’m not, how can you say something like that?” Donna said suddenly, playing with the salad so as not to look at your face, probably looking for some excuse for you to disappear.

“Well, I've seen you looking at them,” you said, with that passive, indifferent attitude.

“I would be looking at something else and your... Body has gotten in the way,” she said in a clumsy and childish manner, hiding her blush behind a glass of wine.

“Oh, sure,” you whispered with a suspicious look, tilting your head in a funny way. “You’re such a clumsy liar, my lady,” you said with a mocking but seductive tone at the same time.

“Don't call me...” The lady said, closing her eye furiously, squeezing the cutlery tightly in her fists. “Oh, you know what? I'm not going to give explanations to you. You said it, you are my maid.”

You opened your mouth surprised by that out of context comment, noticing how the tension was getting even stronger. The rope could stretch further, but it could also break, and it had to do it now, or it would never do it.

“I don't mind you were looking at them, Donna,” you said with a seductive tone, leaning over the table to give her a better view of your exposed bust, something she didn't overlook, cooling her expression even more.

“I wouldn't do it if you hadn't worn those clothes,” she murmured, with a cold face and an angry or annoyed expression that didn't match the trembling of her hands.

“My clothes?” You asked, without stopping your bright eyes from hers, which was fleeing from your gaze as if it were a matter of life or death. “Oh, well, I already told you, it's very hot here.”

“That is not an excuse to show your... Virtues around the house,” the lady in black snapped, with a cocky, defensive posture. Those were defenses you had already decided to break at that very moment.

“Oh, do you think my breasts are virtues?” You asked, without giving Donna any chance of respite. She seemed very nervous, but she hadn't cowardly run away like other times so, well you could consider it a small victory.

“Your body is a virtue, (Y/N). Your whole body,” she murmured, paying a compliment you never expected her to give, making your heated cheeks even hotter.

“That was very... Nice,” you commented, in an almost inaudible voice, changing your arrogant look for a tender one.

“And yes, I’m looking at your breasts, I like looking at your breasts, are you happy now? You can leave right now if you want,” Donna said abruptly, crossing her arms and looking away from, suppressing a small sob.

“Leave? Why?” You asked amused, raising your eyebrows. “I should feel flattered.”

Donna didn't respond. She simply looked at you to check that your impassive reaction was correct and not a product of her imagination.

“You haven't stopped until you provoke me, right? You want to provoke me so I lose control and then you can leave my house, and my life,” the lady in black accused, standing up in a threatening way.

That phrase should have scared you, or made you feel helpless, but on the contrary, you burst into a rather comical laugh.

“What are you talking about, Donna? Come on, stop talking nonsense,” you laughed, earning an even more dangerous look. “I wear these clothes because I was hot and yes, they may show a little… Well, you know, my nipples, but that wasn't to provoke you, my bra simply broke.”

“Of course, yes, sure,” she said, with a suspicious tone, which made you laugh even harder. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Well yes, I’m laughing at you, my lady,” you said, perhaps risking too much, but sure of what you were saying, sure of wanting to clarify certain things that were beginning to consume you. “Even walking around the house naked, I wouldn't think I was provoking you. There is no one to provoke you, Donna. You're like a block of ice... Oh, ice... I could really use one right now...”

Your rambling talk only angered her more, causing her to clench her fists on either side of her hips.

“If you don't want anything from me, why do you provoke me?” She asked, ignoring your erratic explanation.

“Because I might want something from you,” you whispered in a more serious tone, playing with the fork on the plate.

“Do you want more money? You want to kill me? Lock me up? What do you want from me, (Y/N)?” She asked with a voice cracked by nerves, presenting all the symptoms that you knew preceded a crisis.

You sighed, shaking your head and wiping yourself with a napkin slowly, ignoring all those danger signs. Slowly, you dragged the chair and stood up, walking with a determined step towards the lady in black, who followed you with her eye, with her body prepared to make you suffer.

You sighed again, already being very close to her and you put your hands on your hips, maintaining that dangerous look. A smile changed that cold expression on your face and you took another step, two, until you were close enough to smell that subtle and intoxicating lavender perfume.

Your hands traveled to her face, cupping it roughly and pulling her towards you, making your lips collide, making you kiss her, making you do what you had been waiting for so long.

At first Donna didn't move, but after a few seconds she returned that tender kiss, bringing her hands to your hips.

After a few wet and affectionate moments, you separated from her with one last quick kiss, slowly moving away from her and returning your hands to your hips.

“I want that, Donna,” you whispered, before dropping into the chair and continuing to devour your salad as if nothing had happened.

The lady in black looked at you surprised, but with a more relaxed expression, approaching you slowly, taking your hand so you would release the cutlery.

“Do you like me?” She asked with a nervous tone, broken by the sensation your lips caused on yours. You nodded nonchalantly, trying to ignore her gaze, to no avail.

“So much,” you whispered drinking water as if nothing had happened, as if you hadn't just kissed your lady.

“I like you too,” she said, with the same shy tone. You looked at her and smiled cutely, winking at her.

“Great,” you said amused, kissing the back of her hand.

“You didn't have to look like that... Just to prove it to me. You could have told me,” Donna murmured, pointing again to that provocative top. “I've been waiting for you to say something like that for a long time, too long.”

“Yes, yes...” You sighed, biting your lip. “I've already told you that this is because of an accident... But...” you said, standing up again, gently grabbing her waist and pulling her closer to your body. “If it has helped to clarify things, I’m glad that you’ve looked at my breasts…”

“I haven't...” She said, embarrassed, with a nervous smile. “Well, I… I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, it's okay,” you said, placing a strand of black hair behind her ear, noticing the heat of her skin, which you knew was not due to the high temperatures. “I'm glad you like them...” you whispered in her ear, making her shiver shyly.

“Yes, I...” Donna murmured, carelessly, looking at you again in that place, now with less discretion. “I've been wondering... What is that?” She asked pointing to one of your marked breasts. You looked at it and smiled mischievously.

“A piercing,” you explained, shrugging your shoulders.

“A what?” She asked, looking at it closer. No lust, just curiosity.

“An earring if you prefer,” you commented, making her more nervous with your closeness.

“Why do you have an earring...There?” She asked with a cold expression, trying not to look at it so directly, which you sighed for.

You shrugged again, running a finger over that metal part, amused by the curious innocence of Donna.

“I don't know, youthful nonsense...” You murmured with a much wider smile. “Do you want to see it?”

Donna shook her head, her face betraying her true desire, causing you to laugh softly and kiss her cheek.

“Yes, no, I mean...” She stammered, which you took advantage of to lower your hands to the edge of your top and raise it little by little until it was over your head, making her look away from you. “(Y/N)...”

“What?” You asked amused, resting two fingers on her cheek to guide her gaze to your naked torso, making her sigh overwhelmed. Maybe it would be the heat, or maybe… Another kind of excitement…

“You are so beautiful...” Donna whispered, running her hand over your chest, with her gaze fixed on that metal piercing that had caught her attention. “Why have you made holes in your body?”

“Oh, well, it's... It was fashion,” you explained, letting her fingers explore your skin, letting her meticulous caresses make your heart beat harder. “Don’t you like it?”

“It's... Weird...” The lady commented, with her fingers playing on your flesh, surrounding your breasts without touching them, respecting what she thought it was your shyness.

“I can take it off if you want,” you said, with a dark smile, guiding her caresses toward that area of ​​your body, toward that metal ornament.

“Oh, no I...” She said, smiling nervously at how your hand guided hers. “It's weird but... I, I like it.”

“It's hot here, don't you think?” You asked, changing the subject abruptly, with the lady in black focused on exploring your body. She nodded, as if she wasn't paying attention to you.

“Yes, this heat wave is horrible,” she commented distractedly, while you pulled her waist to get closer to her ear.

“You should take off that dress, Donna. I also want to see your body...”

[iri-2]

I Love You Like That

Rating: Not Rated Category: F/F Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Relationships: Mother Miranda/Reader Characters: Mother Miranda, Karl Heisenberg, Salvatore Moreau, Eva

Summary: As a scientist in The Connections, you and Miranda work together in a laboratory. Over time, you develop feelings for this somewhat harsh but seemingly vulnerable woman. One day, she "takes" you to her hometown.

You find yourself falling for Miranda.

A few months ago, she was just a somewhat sharp-tongued colleague who had recently joined. You don't know why you are attracted to her and trap so deeply.

"I think I might have some feelings for you, Miranda." Your fingers tightly gripping the edge of the notepad.

Miranda's scalpel pauses on the corpse. "Why?"

Why?

How would you know? Most of the time, she doesn't seem that friendly towards you. Until recently.

"Lab romances aren't a good idea. Shouldn’t we just focus on researching the combination of the E-type fungus and cadou?" Miranda rejects you directly.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you, you’re too cold to everything." you mutter, the tip of the pen you're holding trembling on the experiment log, leaving messy ink stains.

Several months ago, the leader of The Connections suddenly announced with excitement that they had found a scientist to join the project you were working on.

As the team's most outstanding researcher, you were assigned to the same laboratory as this scientist, in Romania.

Passing through the purification facility at the entrance, you enter the room. You see a woman already dressed in full lab attire, examining a small piece of tissue under a microscope.

"So, you're THE best researcher? You're here REALLY early," the dark-haired woman says.

"You must be Dr. Miranda? I firmly believe that I arrived on time." You try to ignore the unfriendly sharpness in her tone. This new scientist seems to have no understanding of interpersonal communication.

"In my sense of time, you are late." She doesn't lift her head from the eyepiece.

That’s quite rude.

"Okay, first, you’re new. Second, I’m on time. Third, I hope we can get along well at work," you put on your lab coat.

She takes off the slide and finally wants to take a look at you. "That'll take a while."

… For the sake of the experiment's progress, you silently endure her occasional criticism.

She’s mean all the time. She even uses you as her assistant, handing you the used experimental equipment for cleaning.

"For a hundred times, I'm NOT your assistant! I’m a scientist as you." You can't bear it anymore.

She shrugs her shoulders and remains silent.

… One day, she directs her accusations at you again.

"Did you touch my culture dish?" Miranda accuses you without any evidence.

"Why would I touch your culture dish?" you respond, feeling puzzled.

"It's just the two of us here. If it's not me, it must be you. No one else can come in."

"So, you blame me when your experiment doesn't go well?" You're annoyed.

Every time she starts an experiment with anticipation, but after a failure, she becomes unusually desperate.

Her blue eyes dim a bit, and the wrinkles at the corners deepen.

"Sorry." You hear her say the word for the first time.

She looks vulnerable. She has never revealed to you the purpose of her research. However. every time the experiment fails, the gloom in her eyes deepens a bit. She doesn't seem to have only seen biochemical experiments when she looks at the tissues and cells. When the experiment fails, she seems to have lost her most precious thing.

"It's okay," your anger subsides slightly.

In the next few days, Miranda's accusations against you seem to decrease. Once, while testing the biological activity of one kind of cadou, you were about to cut a small piece when Miranda suddenly stopped the next move of your scalpel.

"Put this on." She hands you safety goggles.

You put on the goggles, and soon you understand why.

This type of cadou sprays green slime when stimulated, splattering on your goggles and mask, and it smells awful.

"Well, thanks, Miranda."

"No problem." Miranda says gently.

In the following weeks, she finally treats you completely as a colleague. Sometimes she will leave some very clean culture dishes and test tubes by your side. Once she suddenly appears behind you, tidying up the collar of the lab suit you hastily put on in the morning, and then goes to do her experiment as if nothing has happened.

You have become accustomed to her harshness towards you, and recently her tenderness and concern for you have made you start to worry about her situation. What makes this woman who always uses ridicule and condescension to communicate with others like this? And what makes her depart from her normal behavior?

Sometimes when you observe your chemical reaction, you feel someone looking at you from behind. When you turn around, you only see Miranda writing the experimental report seriously.

… You shouldn't have started caring about her. This has kept your gaze on her for too long, so long that you realize you have fallen in love with her.

But out of professionalism - or more importantly, you still think Miranda will treat you with her cold attitude, just like she has built a defense line in her heart, making your heart break, so you just hold your feelings.

… Six months later, when you place the cells you cultivated under the microscope, you witness unprecedented success.

"Miranda! Come here!" you wave for Miranda to come over.

She observes the cell activity under the microscope.

"These are cells I cultivated with an entirely new serum," you say with joy in your tone.

"Eva…" Miranda murmurs.

"Our project has finally made a breakthrough." You write something in your experiment log.

Miranda looks up, muscles twitching on her face, as if suppressing ecstasy. "You’re better than I thought."

"Let’s just pretend I didn't mention this," you place the notebook on the desk. You regret your impulsiveness. What were you thinking?

Miranda holds the equally cold surgical knife in her cold hand and hovers over the body for a while before continuing with the dissection.

Miranda doesn't speak much that day. At the end of the work, she takes off her lab uniform and speaks to you as if she has made up her mind, "I didn't tell you and most people about my research purpose because people would think I was crazy and that I just needed to find a psychologist,"she continues,"I want you to know my purpose."

"But this is a surprise, and you might not like it."she adds.

"Try me," as someone who has just been rejected, you speak weakly.

Miranda takes a step towards you, and you see her hand getting closer to you, then it lands on your face.

And then you plunge into darkness.

"Wake up, wake up." You hear Miranda calling your name.

"What?" You open your eyes and find yourself leaning on her.

She sees you awake, coughs awkwardly, straightens your body, and steps away from you.

"Is this your idea of a 'surprise'? The best I could think of was that you blindfolded me and took me somewhere, not something resembling a kidnapping." You're a bit annoyed and confused,"How did you make me faint that quick?"

"I did say you might not like it," Miranda avoids your question.

"Where did you bring me?" You glance around, it looks like a vineyard.

"My hometown," she replies.

Miranda guides you out of the vineyard and onto the road.

The houses around are very low, the highest looking like it has only two floors. Some houses have adjacent livestock sheds with pigs and chicks.

The villagers here wear clothes from the last century, some grinding flour, others rolling hay. They stop their activities in surprise when you pass by, and when they see Miranda beside you, surprise turns to fear. They quickly return to their work.

"Don't be surprised, they rarely see outsiders, so they react like that," Miranda calmly explains to you.

"But they seem scared of you," you turn to Miranda.

"Probably because I look different from usual. This village is conservative, and they're not used to new things," Miranda tries to explain.

What is she like usually? Does she wear the same clothes as the villagers? You rarely see Miranda in anything other than a lab coat, and today she wears a simple solid-color cardigan. You can't help but imagine Miranda wearing the villagers' clothes.

"Why don't they go to the outside world?" you mutter.

As you go further, people become scarce until you enter a field where there's no sign of villagers.

"We're here," Miranda leads you to a house.

This house is built against the mountainside, away from the village center.

She opens the door and enters with you. The furnishings inside the house match the vintage theme of the village.

"Is this where you live?" you ask.

"Yes, not used to it?" she gazes at you.

"I just didn't expect someone like you to be so unmodernized," you murmur.

"Come see my lab." She ignores your sarcasm.

"You also have a laboratory here?" The size of this house doesn't look like it can accommodate a laboratory.

She opens a door deep inside the house, leading to a bedroom.

"Well…?"

She goes to a corner and pulls down a switch.

There's a click, and the blank wall in front of you starts moving to the sides, revealing a laboratory still marked by the passage of time.

"I see. But why do you hide the lab?"When you think this woman is strange enough, she still has surprises waiting for you.

She gestures for you to enter her laboratory. A damaged wooden table is scattered with various books and a few black-and-white photos.

You see a photo of a dark haired woman holding a little baby. "Is this you?"

"Yes."You never see her this emotional before, her blue eyes slightly dimming.

"This child…"

"She was my daughter."Miranda's voice carries endless sorrow. "She died when she was ten."

"Oh, I’m sorry, Miranda." You look at her, your voice softens.

"That's why I'm researching the Megamycete; I want to bring Eva back." Miranda's hand holds your arm.

"That's why when your experiment failed, you were like a soul being pulled out of your body?" You feel the coldness of her hand. Has she always been this cold? "I believe you can succeed, our research is progressing well."

Her blue eyes have returned to their original state, looking at you with immense tenderness. "You've helped me a lot. Thank you." She seems to find it awkward to say such things. She lets go of your arm, her cheeks slightly flushed.

She appears so fragile.

"You know, you can tell me directly in our laboratory." You don't think she needs to use "kidnapping" to take you to this village surrounded by deep mountains to tell you this.

"There are still some things that I will let you know here," she doesn't think she does this with great fanfare.

Miranda insists you stay overnight in her bedroom.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll rest on the couch." Miranda is about to sit down.

"Miranda?" You call her from the bedside.

"Hmm?"

"I'd like to hear Eva's story."

Miranda freezes in her movements, then stands up and says, "Not many people ask about her."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to force it." You see sadness engulfing her again.

"It's okay, I don't mind talking about her." She slowly walks towards you and sits beside you.

"Eva was born in August. I remember it was a hot day, and giving birth to that little one exhausted me." Miranda's gaze focuses in the distance as she smiles.

"Her eyes were blue…"

"Like her mother."

She looks at you gently. "Yes, just like me."

"She was the smartest among her peers, learned things quickly. She got along well with other kids, everyone wanted to be friends with her." Miranda speaks softly.

"She even learned carving from the village carpenter. One day, she excitedly ran home, holding something in her hands, shouting, 'Mom! Look at what I made today!' She raised a wood carving in front of me, which was in the shape of a goat. The head and body were divided into two parts and pieced together. I held little Eva in my arms and praised her for doing so well. She was thrilled."

A wood carving of goat? You seem to have seen something similar in the village.

"She used to visit various houses in the village every day, helping them with chores. She was so energetic." Happiness surrounds Miranda as she speaks.

You listen attentively to her storytelling. This is the most time Miranda talks, maybe too much.

After that, it's not your fault. The day-to-day research makes you sleep very little. In Miranda's gentle voice, it feels like listening to a bedtime story, and you grow sleepy.

Your head tilts to the side, hands on your stomach, breathing steady.

Miranda lifts you gently from the bedside, letting you lie down on the bed. She covers you with a blanket, arranges the pillow, and sits by your side, watching you sleep peacefully.

Lab romances? Sounds fun.

You wake up from Miranda's blanket, and the scent of her woody perfume lingers in the air. Getting off the bed, you walk to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Miranda sits at the dining table.

"Good morning." You lazily reply.

"Your breakfast." She points to the apple pie and fried egg on the table.

"What about you?" You look at the complete apple pie and ask her.

"I've already eaten." She picks up her tea and takes a sip.

"Any plans for today?" You cut a piece of the fried egg and put it in your mouth.

"We're going to Heisenberg's factory."

"Heisenberg's factory?" You question.

"Yes, Karl Heisenberg is my… assistant. He's advanced in bioelectric research."

"Oh, you have 'assistants' here too? I thought I was the only one of yours." You tease her.

"They are indeed my assistants, but you you're different." She awkwardly coughs.

You feel a bit pleased that you successfully teased Miranda.

"Have your breakfast now, we'll head to the factory. It's located outside the village, a bit far." Miranda gestures towards your breakfast.

"Why not 'kidnap' me there? Seems quicker." You take a bite of the apple pie.

"I could, but I prefer you to walk there with me consciously." Miranda finishes her tea.

"What do you mean by 'I could'?"

"Eat your breakfast."

Miranda and you walk on an ancient bridge. In the village, you still feel the strange gazes of the villagers, but after Miranda glares at them, they dare not stare at you anymore.

"Miranda?" You tilt your head to look at her.

"What's wrong?" Miranda softly responds.

"Why do I feel like the villagers are afraid of you?" You ask her.

"We'll talk about it later." Miranda doesn't want to say more.

Outside Heisenberg's factory, wild grasses are overgrown, and abandoned metal parts are scattered in the bushes.

As if predicting your arrival, the factory gate slowly opens, revealing a man standing at the entrance.

He wears a dirty light green trench coat with a tattered wide brim fedora, but his sunglasses are polished to a shine.

"Ah, Miranda, you're here. Welcome." The man opens his arms to welcome you.

"Heisenberg, this is my colleague." Miranda informs him of your name.

"Hello, Miranda said I should show you how bioelectricity works." Heisenberg produces a cigar from behind his back.

"Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg."

In his workshop, you see various large instruments emitting orange lights, indicating their operation. They are quite different from the precise instruments you are familiar with in your laboratory.

You swear you hear a hissing sound coming from some tightly closed doors.

Heisenberg leads you and Miranda into a dimly lit room with many surgical tables. On them lie many gray-skinned… people?

"These are my experimental results." Heisenberg proudly says. You can see excitement gleaming behind his sunglasses.

"Are these people?" You point to one with an iron drill replacing its arm.

"They used to be. Don't worry, I only experiment on them after they've passed away. They've been implanted with Cadou, and with some electric stimulation, they’ll 'come alive'."

Like Galvani's frog experiment?

"Although the electricity used now is external, in ongoing research, I've enabled them to gradually activate their own neural potentials, making them have life activities, just like a resurrection." Heisenberg explains.

Your understanding of bioelectricity is limited, but you listen to Heisenberg's enthusiastic explanations, occasionally nodding along.

"Perhaps this can help with your research?" Heisenberg finishes his grand speech and hands you a development notebook.

"Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg."

"Call me Karl." Heisenberg corrects.

You filter out his self-praise in the report, summarize the key points about the experiment in your head.

Heisenberg finishes his cigar, casually tossing it on the ground and extinguishing it with his boot. Taking a step forward, he places his hand on your shoulder — the glove he wears is oily, much like the messy strands of his long gray hair.

"I believe Miranda wouldn't choose the wrong person. She never used to wander around the village with outsiders." He gives you a positive look.

Your gaze shifts to Miranda, who is staring at your shoulder. "HEISENBERG! I appreciate your help today, but it's getting late. We should go."

"But it's only noon. Don't you want to stay for lunch or something?" Heisenberg asks you with a smile.

"No need. We have other things to do. You should focus on your own tasks," Miranda immediately rejects him.

"Alright, suit yourselves." Heisenberg walks towards his workbench, starting to clean a metal hammer.

"What else do we have to do?" You ask Miranda as the factory gate behind you automatically closes.

"We're going to the reservoir."

"The reservoir? I guess it's not for some leisurely fishing."

"No, just taking a walk."

"So, this is the 'other things' you mentioned. Sounds important," your tone carries a hint of mockery.

Miranda purses her lips. "It's important to me. Perhaps to Moreau as well."

"Moreau?" A new name.

"He's another assistant of mine, living near the reservoir. We can pay him a visit."

You follow Miranda towards the windmill. Does Moreau live in a windmill? That’s so weird.

Miranda leads you into an elevator, descending into a cave-like area.

Wow, this guy lives in a place even more unusual than Heisenberg.

You hear the sound of someone vomiting.

You see Miranda frown.

Sounds emanate from a small house in the cave, like a comedy show. You hear an odd laughter, followed by chewing noises.

Miranda knocks on the door.

A peculiar-looking guy opens the door.

"Mother!"

You see Miranda shoot him a fierce look.

Mother?

"Oh, no Moth… Mo… Mi… Miranda, you came! Moreau welcomes you to my reservoir! Y…You brought a newcomer." This hunched-over guy speaks with a strange voice, containing a gurgling element, reminiscent of fish blowing bubbles.

After the door is fully open, you see his face clearly under the indoor lights. Wow, his features seem… really bizarre. His eyes are swollen, half-closed, his nose is short, and below, his mouth is wide open, with teeth seemingly having a mind of their own, growing in various directions.

Oh, God bless him.

He acts unusually excited, his skinny arms trembling. He invites you into his house. Miranda looks somewhat reluctant, but she follows you inside.

"Miranda, you're actually here to see me. You rarely visit me!" He's excited like a child, reaching out to you. "And you brought a newcomer!"

"Salvatore, stop. She's my colleague, here to help me with experiments. We just came from Heisenberg's place. We need some data on Cadou." Miranda halts Moreau's action.

"W…Wait for me here. I'll fetch the experimental data right away." Moreau rushes into the inner room and comes out with a stack of documents.

Miranda takes the documents and hands them to you. You carefully avoid touching the suspicious green marks on top and put them into your backpack.

Miranda seems ready to leave, and so do you.

"Miranda! Newcomer! Stay for lunch with me." The person with a strange appearance shouts.

"No, thanks, Moreau." Miranda replies coldly.

Moreau leans forward and grabs something. You follow Miranda and turn around, seeing Moreau holding onto the corner of Miranda's cardigan hem, hunches his back, appearing so small and weak.

"Fine. I can accompany you for a while. Let go." Miranda pulls out the hem from his hand, speaking extremely reluctantly, "No lunch."

She looks at you inquiringly. You nod.

"Just one episode, just one episode like always," Miranda tells him.

Moreau tries to jump up excitedly, completely unaware of the stiffness in Miranda's tone. He continues playing his comedy and starts chewing on the cheese on the plate.

You and Miranda sit side by side on the stools behind Moreau, facing the TV. The comedy is amusing, Moreau giggles, and at one point, he accidentally chokes on the cheese, producing a loud cough. Miranda sits straight, showing no reaction to the comedy.

Is this cave well-ventilated? Why do you smell such a strong fishy odor?

You frown in disgust, praying for this episode to end quickly so you can leave this damp and gloomy place.

The unpleasant smell allows you to catch a faint fragrance from Miranda, like her blanket, woody and pleasant — something you like.

After another ten minutes, the fishy smell intensifies. Unable to bear it any longer, you start moving closer to Miranda, attempting to use her scent to mask the fishy odor.

The fishy smell is really strong, and your face is almost buried in her neck. When your nose brushes against her skin, she slightly recoils.

Miranda speaks.

"Moreau, control yourself."

"Mo… Miranda, I didn't mean to!" Moreau immediately apologizes.

After a while, you feel the fishy smell diminish significantly. You turn your head to rest it on Miranda's shoulder. She doesn't move, lets you lean on her.

The episode finally comes to an end, and you feel relieved.

Miranda says to Moreau, "We should go now."

You stand up quickly, ready to escape.

Moreau appears reluctant, and there seems to be tears in his eyes. "Goodbye, Miranda. Goodbye, newcomer."

Before you can say goodbye, Miranda, without looking back, pulls you away, leaving Moreau behind.

Leaving the reservoir, the air suddenly becomes incredibly fresh. You feel like your foggy brain has been liberated.

"Miranda? Shouldn't we go for lunch?" you poke her arm.

"Sure," Miranda nods.

"Are we going to the restaurant in the village, or…?"

"We'll buy ingredients and cook ourselves."

"Getting another meal from the great scientist? Looking forward to it! The apple pie and fried eggs you made this morning were just perfect." You recall their aftertaste.

Miranda smiles at your reaction. "Let's go and get some ingredients."

You can also find me here.

Thanks for reading!

[celezztia]

Taking a stab at writing, I haven’t done it in a while, but I want to help contribute a Professor! Vampire Donna AU and maybe in the future a few spicy one shots, because we are all thirsty.

(I will format this better as I go on, but do enjoy)

Professor! Donna x Fem reader

(May contain fluff, smut, angst in the future, but first chapter is sfw)

After many trials and tribulations, I had managed to score a scholarship to a college in Romania; Miranda’s All Girls University: though you hadn’t hear much of the campus aside from what the schools website conveyed, who are you to pass up an affordable education?

Had you stayed in America, you would spend years paying off these debts, but now your saved money was going towards travels, airplane tickets, apartment down payment and such .

You were the one that applied, got accepted and the first day of college you were ready.

Though as ready as you thought you were, your new life was far more interesting than you had imagined.

You signed up for a Botany course, a few math and English, and an elective in theater. You figured your years in high school being a techie would come in handy.

The professors were fairly bearable, though the Art History professor was quite striking. Intimidating and cold, but as long as you listened, she never really called you out to answer.

Now as you walk towards your Botany class, you pushed the heavy doors open, grunting a bit as you pushed it open.

It was a vast room, build almost like a media center with levels of desks that led down to the board and desk where the professor sat. She was scanning a stack of papers , a pair of red reading glasses hanging off her nose.

You decide to sit in the front of the classroom; mainly because you did always enjoy the sciences, even if you were more right brained.

The room filled slowly, and a few students began talking quietly to one another, the sound of pencils tapping against the desks.

A group of girls came in together, laughing and chatting.

You clicked your phone open, looking at it for the time.

8:02.

The professor sat at her desk, unmoving from her papers as she spoke.

“Do try to enter here in a graceful manner, class had already begun.” She said curtly, her nose crinkling as she continued to read paperwork. The girls quieted down and dispersed among the classroom.

As they sat down, the older woman stood, pushing her glasses back onto her head.

She was quite tall, slender, dressed in all black; a turtleneck, slacks, and a cardigan that draped to her ankles.

Her hair was in a mostly tight bun, a few raven strands fallen to frame her pale face. A discolored scar splotched across her left eye.

She began to pace around, the sounds of her heels clacking against the wooden floor filling the classroom.

“Good morning. I am Professor Beneviento. Please make sure to keep the chit chat to a minimum, or at least to your breaks. I would like to think that I have enough patience for all of you. This class is about the science of plant life, not the unnecessary jargon. Is that understood?”

She waited for a response from the class.

It took a second, but after some nods, she continued.

You couldn't help but absorb her.

She commanded a room fairly well, yet seemingly suave in the process. Her voice was soft, but had a slight roughness that made her sound older than she actually was.

You kept your pen glued to your notebook, hanging off every word this woman spoke in case you needed to jot it down.

The class ended sooner than you realized, and as you grabbed your books and placed them into your bag, Professor Beneviento walked up behind you, leaning over your shoulder.

Your heart jumped to your throat and you dropped the papers in your hands, the pages scattering everywhere.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, as my notes and pages in my binder flew in different directions.

The professor chuckled softly, and began to help you pick up the papers.

I apologized quickly and thanked her as we finished picking them up.

"Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you."she spoke softly as she handed me the stack of papers I haphazardly threw everywhere.

Her voice was as much less commanding than usual. Up close, you realize her eyes were almost crimson. Maybe that was a gene in Europe, you weren’t going to have your first impression of you questioning her features.

Well… second influence at least.

I nodded nervously, realizing how much she towered over me.

She was a lot thinner than I thought, and a lot prettier.

Her dark hair framed her pale face, a few strands falling from her tight bun, her eyes were a striking red, her lips pouty and pursed.

“Y-You’re okay! I just get spooked easily.” I say, my face dusted with pink.

I could’ve sworn the older woman grinned at me for a split second after that comment.

“Your accent, you must be American, yes?”

You nodded.

Her eyes lit up a bit.

"That's good. We have a few other international students this semester. I know this university is pretty new, but I can assure you this is a great school. If you do ever need help with anything, I will do what I can to accommodate.

What is your name again, coda dolce?” She asked, a thick Italian influence in her tone.

You smiled and told her, her expression remaining fairly stoic, but her eyes had softened.

“My name is Y/N, ma’am.”

"What a lovely name. You'll have to pardon me, Y/N, I have to run to another lecture. But do come to me with any questions.”

You nod, and she gives you a smile and a nod before walking past me and exiting the lecture hall, the scent of honeysuckle following.

[talesfromthecrypts]

The problem with Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is that Burton got seemingly high about himself cause dating Bellucci now and so just half-built sequel on callbacks to Dracula movie she was in. Beetlejuice is now for whatever reason is romantically obsessed with Lydia and keeps her photo, while Bellucci is his ex-undead wife and the whole plot revolves around his obsession with Lydia🤷🏼‍♀️. At the end of the movie Lydia and her daughter Astrid seemingly even visit Dracula’s castle in Romania and Astrid gets attracted to Dracula-performer-employee named Vlad. Plus, idk, characterisation of adult Lydia was somewhat disappointing.

Ok I haven’t seen it and I was very meh about the whole movie but what you are describing sounds awesome to me.

[sebastianstansqueen]

Lost In The Shadows Fourteen

A/N: This one is short, sorry, also have began writing my next series, my stuff about that will be up once i’m finished posting this story, hope you like it, If you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 1,268

Warnings: Big Angst, Guns, Character Death, Drugs?, Some Domestic bliss, then obviously Brock, pregnacy, If forgot anything let me know please!

Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Taglist open// 

Tags:@cherryblossomsky- @babylooneytoonz- @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond- @leyannrae- @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2write - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel - @sebsgirl71479- @missvelvetsstuff- @hadesownhell - @casa-boiardi- @winterslove1917- @hallecarey1- @ash-craze - @barnesxstan - @unaxv - @bethexo07 - @itsmytimetoodream - @sebastians-love -@stoneyggirl2 - @ordelixx - @arunabrak

Brock was pissed, it had been almost a year and there still had been no sign of Y/n nor James anywhere, and while Andy now seemingly was in control of her business, he couldn’t hold New York by the balls the way Y/n used to, so Brock turned his anger into an advantage. His substance had been selling like crazy around New York and it was only a matter of time when Y/n would find out he’d began spreading it on to her territory, and it was also only a matter of time for her to find out, he was so close to finding her and James, he just had to wait a little longer.

Meanwhile, Y/n and Bucky, had been living in Romania, Bucky’s memory had been coming back little by little. As for Y/n she was still the control freak as ever, still controlled what she could from a computer, halfway across the world, even with her patrooting stomach that made it annoyingly hard to use her computer. She rested her head against the couch cushion, with a sigh of slight irritation. Bucky came up from behind, telling from the way her face was scratched something was wrong. “What's going on?” He asked me to sit beside her. 

“First lil’ bean is driving me insane, they're moving a lot and I can barely see over my stomach, and work stuff, Brock is dealing on my streets, and he is still looking for me.” She stressed. 

“We’re fine and safe, shouldn’t that be all that matters?” He tilts his head. 

Y/n’s lips pulled up slightly. “If only it were that simple, I don’t just take care of only you I and our kids with what I do, I take care of my men’s families, I take care of all of the people in my territory, and if I let whatever shit get out, then look what happens, shure New York’s filled with druggies, and people on the stress, but when theres and out break it gets ten times worse for both populations.” She explained what other extra duties she had as a leader in the mob. “That’s why they respect me and fear me, because I could take it all away in a knight from someone, but I also made things better after Henry died, I helped a lot of people, get better, from pills and other crap.”

Bucky nodded, now understanding the importance of what she had done back home. “All I can say is don’t stress too much.” He put his hand over hers that was resting on her stomach, he smiled softly, she closed the laptop.

Bucky and Y/n both stood in the kitchen listening to music that fit both of their tastes, the made a meal fit for kings, or a mechanic and his pregnant mob boss wife. Bucky could tell the difference between now and the begging of their relationship, now she was comfortable enough to wear tank tops and really anything that showed any scar she’d gained in the past, sometimes, Bucky would ask about who she got each one, she could recite the story as if it happened yesterday, yet no emotion held in her voice, and then she’d acted as if she never said anything. He couldn’t understand how she did it.

As they both laid in bed, Bucky’s arms naturally found a way on Y/n. “If you stay relaxed, the sooner bean will be here, and the sooner bean is here, the sooner we get to make another little mean and another.” He smiled, as he held her closely to him. 

“I’ll try but no promises.” She smiled to herself, as her eyes closed, Bucky soon followed suit, shutting off the lamp that was on his night stand.

Bucky rolled around to find his wife once again in the night as he slept, but soon was awoken by the cold silky sheets. He shot up, looking around the room, finding no sign of her he got up to find her. 

Y/n paced in the office that used to be Bucky’s dads, when he was a kid. She spoke in a demanding harsh whisper, at whatever unfortunate soul. “We’ve got to figure this out, I-we can’t move places at the moment Andy.” She huffed, clearly her anxiety raised, along with anger. “Why? That’s not your business at the moment, I don’t know if he has the phone tapped. Throw him off or something. He can’t find us not right now, bye Andy.” She slumped into the chair behind the desk, sweat appearing on her forehead, her breath picked up slightly. 

Bucky came up, taking her hand in his. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“Brock knows where we are, and I don’t think that we can leave at the moment because I am nine months pregnant, and soon enough I could give birth.” Y/n explained. 

“He can’t access the island with anything other than a boat, we're fine.” Bucky reassured her. She nodded, knowing she could be overthinking this. “Let’s get back to bed.”

As a week passed, and then half of another, she started to think that she had been wrong. As they both had been getting ready for bed, the power cut out, Y/n and Bucky looked around in confusion as they stood in the bathroom, Y/n put her tooth brush back in the holder, and she moved into their room, Bucky was right with her. “Maybe a line went out.” 

“Nope, just me.” Y/n’s eyes whipped to the corner by the closet, Brock stood in the shadows, his hands in front of him with a pistol in one. Bucky tries to flick on the lights, when they turn on, they know someone else is there, all of them looking at each other, Brock’s jaw clenches visibly, when he finally takes in all of Y/n. “You could have had a good life with your husband and kid, why are you causing more trouble than it’s worth.” 

“Because you would kill more than you would ever help with whatever that shit is.” She hissed at him. 

Brock lifted his gun focusing on her chest, she had no way to defend herself, ironically the one time she didn’t carry her gun, so what else could she do but welcome death as an old friend hoping Bucky could at least leave. As the gun went off she prepared for the bullet, but it didn’t come so she opened her eyes looking around. “Get out!” She looked to where the voice came from, Bucky who was lying on the floor with a bullet in his chest and stomach. “Leave Y/n!” He said the best he could. 

Her leg’s moved before her mind, all she could see was Bucky there on the floor bleeding out, the pair of guards that stayed on the island met her down stairs. “Where’s Mr. Barnes?” One of them asked, she just shook her head. “Take her to the mainland. I’m going to go up there.”

The second guard came up to her, leading her out to the doc, she struggled to collect herself as they ran, when they got to the doc with a boat at the end, the guard helped Y/n on. “Y/n!” Brock Yelled form not too far from them. 

“Go, get to the Airport, and go home, or somewhere safe.” The guard told her, as he Started the boat before getting off quickly. The boat moved quickly on the water, Y/n waited to doc on the mainland, her face wet from tears as she docked and then got a taxi. She had no clue what was supposed to happen after this, she should have died.

When Y/n got on the first plane to New York, she immediately messaged Andy, wanting to have someone go back and get Bucky, maybe even they’d be able to save him. When she got back to New York, Andy had replied that he was right on it. As she took a private car back to her house, she felt empty like part of herself was missing. As she walked the path she had so many times, she slowly realized that this wasn’t home, at all. She walked into the house that gave her a pit in her stomach. Andy stood along with all of her men, all meant respect but she wanted to be alone, her jaw clenched, she still wore a nightgown that made her stomach stand out.  “Everyone except Andy, leave.” Her voice turned cold and stern. 

Andy stayed behind like told as all the other men filtered out. “See what you meant by you didn’t want to leave, now.” 

“Is he okay?” Her voice sounded desperate, and had a yearning interlaced. 

Andy’s shoulders tensed. “He, along with Brock and his men, weren’t there when they got to the island, Y/n, I’m sorry.”

She just nodded. “Go figure out what's next, I'm staying in New York, until this finishes up.” 

“What if-”

“I don’t care I’ll kill Brock Rumlow if that’s the last thing I do, even with my baby in my stomach, he killed my husband, I’m taking every part of his legacy possible, by the time this finishes, no one will even remember his name.” She spoke with passionate rage. “Go get me my information Andy.” She stood giving him a stern look, before he left.

[takenene]

so i'm finally watching i w t v, which i'm super excited about! but like. i mean. uhmmm. romania???????? hello???????

framing an entire peoples of a land with centuries of traditional vampire folklore. who believe in vampires. in a story about vampires. while they are CORRECT IN THEIR ASSUMPTION(?!!) as backwards and barbarically superstitious, is sure Something.

also framing the sole, singular (1) american in that same plotline (who is ultimately Wrong!!!) as the only seemingly Sensible character there, who's also comparatively wayyyy better groomed and elegant? Love :) :) :) That :) :) :)

[purplekoop]

Day 3 of updating the Darkworld gang! Struggled a bit to get this one decent, and still not 100% happy with the look yet, but eventually got something satisfying for now. After enough of a delay (like a day), here's the eternally poised vampire, Lady Vivienne!

Lady Vivienne is the mysterious owner of a seemingly abandoned castle hidden deep with a forest in Romania. She has presided over it for centuries, with no company other than the spirits bound to it. Confined to the castle by the scorching curse of daylight, the unending night of the Darkworld has given her a newfound freedom to roam the world once more.

Despite her reserved demeanor, Vivienne is one of the most mobile characters in the cast, particularly in the air. By transfiguring her cape into a pair of bat-like wings, she can soar along the ground with her dash, as well as jump three times in the air as opposed to just once. She can even briefly hover at a set elevation.

However, her defining mechanic is Bloodwork, a wicked magic that can drain the life force of her foes, then withdraw her internal reserves of this energy to use for attacks. Vivienne's pummel and throws all drain the victim's life force (be it through blood, slime, tar, cosmic energy, incredibly intoxicated blood, deadly sins, or whatever essence gives them life), healing her proportionately. While none of her throws are especially strong for launching foes or starting combos, the healing is vital to offsetting her low weight, as well as the other half of Bloodwork.

Vivienne can use her magic to draw from the blood within her body, allowing her to use her strongest attacks, but at the cost of taking recoil damage. Several attacks will have her form her signature weapon, the Crimson Saber, a rapier of blood. These include her smash attacks, as well as her side special Crimson Slice, which all cause Vivienne to take damage on use. Charing her smash attacks fully causes the recoil damage to increase, but adds an additional hit to each attack. Crimson Slice also has an additional mechanic: while it can only be used once before landing normally, hitting an enemy with the slash will let it be used again. Her neutral special, Blood Shoot, also causes recoil damage. Tapping the input fires a small, weak, but fast dart of blood to be fired while taking minimal self damage. Charging the move however increases the size and power of the projectile, at the cost of taking more self damage. Her last Bloodwork move is her guard special, Immortal Guard, which covers her entire body in a crimson aura. While in this state, any attacks that hit her deal double damage, but cause no hitstun, knockback, or other effects. She can instantly act after being hit by letting go of the special button, letting this act as an unconventional sort of counterattack. She will also take some amount of self damage every time she starts the move, making it a risky choice no matter what. The guard is also bypassed entirely by grabs and command grabs.

Vivienne is a fearsome foe if mastered, but requires both skillful execution and careful strategizing. Her low weight compared to her tall frame makes her especially frail if played carelessly, which is only magnified due to her self damage from Bloodwork. However, this is counteracted somewhat by both her exceptional recovery and the ability to heal from her pummels and throws, making them rewarding to go for even if they lack more conventional utility in starting combos or scoring KOs outright. Her midair movement options give her an exceptional combo game as well. However, many of her most vital tools, such as her projectile, one of her movement specials, her strongest kill moves, and her unique defensive option all require taking self damage, making them riskier than those of other characters. Vivienne has many unique strengths, but some distinct weaknesses in turn, requiring a keen balance of life and death in order to succeed.

So that's Vivienne! One of the most overdue characters for a redesign. Her original look from aaaages ago was fairly similar to Parasoul from Skullgirls, so very glad this update made her significantly more distinct. On a related note, she was originally intended to be the dedicated "swordie" of the cast, but giving her whole set of normals great disjointed range in addition to her air mobility (which became more of a defining trait of her over time) and other mechanics felt like giving her too many major strengths. Limiting it to her smash attacks and making it exclusive to her Bloodwork mechanic felt like an appropriate compromise.

[freyanistics]

Butterflies 🦋

You always was fascinated with any kind of floral. Didn’t matter where it was from or what kind, flowers always peeled your interest. You had recently went to Romania for a college school trip to learn more about the country, and while you was fascinated by the different architectures you was more interested in the local floral and plants.

And that’s how you found yourself deep in the forest in a flower field. The sun was basking its sunlight on your skin as you picked up a purple flower bringing it to your face as you inhaled your scent. Beneath your skin you could feel the kaleidoscope rustle in excitement. You was always different from the others, being that you could turn into butterflies at any given time. You weren’t sure why or how you was able to do it, your parents avoiding the question every time. It took awhile for you to come to terms that you was just like this.

You continued to walk through the large field as picking up flowers and making a small flower crown. Placing it on top of your head you smile feeling euphoria washing over you. Suddenly you was snapped out of your little happy bubble when you heard a buzzing noise in your ears. You flinch as a greenish fly flies past you, nipping at your ear a bit. Odd. You swat at the fly before trying to resume your previous task when the fly comes again, this time two more following after. These were different than the first one with one being reddish orange and the other a golden yellow. All three fly around you as you grow irritated.

“Shoo.” You say making a shooing motion with your hands.

“Well that’s not very nice.” A sultry voice comes from behind you causing you to jump dropping the flowers you’ve picked. Whipping around you come face to face with a black hooded woman, her face half covered by the hood but you could still make out the lower half. Her mouth was covered in seemingly fresh blood as a few drops fell onto the ground. Instinctively you take a few steps back feeling your heart race and anxiety slowly rise.

Giggling the mysterious woman tales a step forward, streaks of red hair rolling down the side of face. “Don’t be scared, we just want to play with you.” She coos.

We?

“That’s right Dani.” A new voice chimes in to your side as you jump seeing a swarm of golden coated flies form to another woman, this time you could see her hair was a deep brown. Her eyes were crazed as they bore into yours, like a panther stalking prey.

“I saw her first! I get to claim her first!” The redhead says to the other woman pouting. This cause the brunette to roll her eyes, “Mother said we had to share Daniela.” She spoke in annoyance sparking an argument between the two. Taking this opportunity to back away from them keeping your eyes on them until you was at a safe distance to run off. However you soon backed into something as arms wrap around you and a small knife pressed into your throat.

“Going somewhere little one?” A voice asks chuckling as the blade presses deeper into your skin. The two other women quickly cease their arguing turning to look at the new arrival. “Bela, we thought you were too busy to join us?” The brunette asks raising an eyebrow. A harsh scoff could be heard behind you but you were too scared to turn around to see your new assaulter.

“Be lucky I am here, you two idiots almost let the prey escape.” She growls out. Approaching you the brunette grabs a hold of your chin tilting it up. “What a pretty little thing, mother would like her.” She comments studying your face. You tremble as tears well up at the corner of yours. What do they want with you? You have done nothing wrong or do you thought.

“They don’t look like they’re from here, perhaps a foreigner?” The woman holding you ponders out loud.

“Let’s keep them!” The redhead piped up from behind the brunette.

Keep you?

“Please let me go, I haven’t done anything.” You begged as tears fell from your face. This only cause the tall women to laugh. You finally realized your current situation; you was all alone in the woods of a foreign country surrounded by three women who were not only taller than you by a couple feet but also wielding weapons. You couldn’t even pull your phone out to try to call for help since there was no signal and you was wedged between two of them. There was another option to get out of this though you’ll just…

“Tell you what foreigner, we’ll play a game of tag. If you win you’ll be free to go, but if we win…” the brunette grins sadistically and your heart drops.

“Cassandra are you serious right now? It’s getting late and mother will be expecting us soon.” The voice of the woman holding you replies, her hot breath on your neck.

“Don’t be such a bore Bela!” The brunette named Cassandra says. “It’s no fun just taking them.” She smirks at you as your heart drops further down to your stomach. Hearing an annoyed sigh the woman you presumed was Bela lets you go. “Very well, it has been awhile since we had a decent chase. And I do so love hearing their heartbeat race.” She coos and you finally was able to turn to look at her. Similar to the others she wore a black hoodie that concealed half of her face albeit her mouth, which was also covered in blood. Her hair was og platinum gold that could be seen in the corners. With all three women staring at you with cold twisted yellow eyes you felt even more uncomfortable.

“Now we will count to ten to give you a head start.” Cassandra says grinning revealing whitish yellow teeth. You gulp before taking off further into the forest without a word, no point trying to negotiate with them.

“10”

You crash through the forest not caring which direction or path you was taking. All you was concerned with is putting as much distance between you and the women as far as possible.

“9”

You could hear your heart racing as you push through bushes and branches. You yelp as a thorn brush sticks to your jeans as you tug free, a few rips appearing.

“8”

Soon you come across a small rolling creek and you quickly grab handfuls of water splashing yourself with it. Maybe this will mask your scent a bit. Getting back up you cross over continuing to run.

“7”

You felt you was even more lost than before. The forest felt endless as more trees and shrubs stretched out from miles away. Pulling out your phone you check your signal; nothing.

“6”

Was you going to die out here? Even if you did somehow got away from those women you don’t know how to find your way back to the city. These were random thoughts that flooded your mind in your state of panic. You couldn’t hear the women but you knew they would soon start looking for soon.

“5”

You was growing tired of using your feet so you start exploding into your kaleidoscope swarm flying further into the forest. A variety of butterflies filled the forest as you moved as one at higher speed. You didn’t want to use up all your energy in this form, thinking it would be best to preserve it.

“4”

You slowly form back daring a single glance behind you. But there was no one behind you. Still you kept running debating if you should climb a tree. You decide against it not wanting to potentially hinder yourself.

“3”

You get snagged again by a tree branch ripping your shirt a bit. This gives you an idea as you take off the rest of your shirt and tossing it onto the branch leaving you only in your bra.

“2”

You press yourself against the tree taking a chance to rest your human body. Covering your mouth trying to conceal your breathing you looked around expecting any of the hooded women to appear.

“1”

Cackles could be heard throughout the forest as the three hooded women surge through the forest, excited about the hunt. They follow their prey’s scent until they came to the small creek as the scent was more weaker here. They were confused at first before realizing what you must have done. “What a clever little minx.” Cassandra croons as she swarms over the creek in pursuit, the others behind her. She loved someone who could challenge her, it’s better than the previous prey they have chased.

Meanwhile you had went back to running having heard the women. You needed to find help or somewhere you could hide that they couldn’t think to look. Behind you heard a branch crack. Was that them? Had they already found you? You didn’t want to stay and find out. Eventually you come to a screeching halt on a cliff leading down to a long drop. It was so steep it almost looked endless making your stomach churn at the mere thought of falling.

“Looks like you’re trapped, morsel.” A singsong voice comes from behind you and you turn seeing the three women swarming. In their hands were bloodied sickles in their gloves hands. They were giggling hysterically as they realized you had no where else to go. Or that’s what they thought.

You glance back behind you noticing across the cliff was another part of the forest. You could easily fly across. A giggle makes you whip around as the brunette starts walking towards you.

“Let’s end this now, sisters. Before she take their own life.” She says before lunging towards you sickle raised. Just as she was about to reach you burst into your kaleidoscope as butterflies swarm around the women before flying across the cliff towards the other side. When you finally reached the other end you become one once more taking a single glance at the women before running off once more.

The women made no intention to continue to chase, too stunned at what has happened to fully comprehend that you were gone. Did that really happen?

“She’s…like us.” The redhead says softly looking at where you once were.

Without saying anything the three women started to head home, not before coming upon your shirt that you tossed up on the branch. Cassandra grabs it and grips it in her fist. A memoir to remember you by.

All three girls return to the castle with less enthusiasm as they sit in front of the window gazing out to the forest longingly, hoping that they come upon you again

The one who turns into butterflies

Hey y’all! I had this idea at work so I decided to write it down. I’ve been busy with both jobs but I’m still going to pump out content, especially on chapter three of Within Her Claws. Until then please enjoy this little story. Also reader is an afab person who goes by she/they pronouns

[eurovision-revisited]

Eurovision 2006: The Scoreboards

The visual design meta for the mid-2000s is as constant as the girl bops. 2006 brought another identikit scoreboard. This year's is so similar to last year's, it feels as if they just bought the code and graphics, played with the colour palette and font, and went with that. At least the Eurovision hearts are making an appearance around the flag.

The biggest difference this year is that the spokesperson doesn't have to reel off all the points from one to seven. They cut straight to the big points while the the little ones appear scattered across the scoreboard leaving the viewer at home to process those points in the five second space before the eight points are announced. It was done in the name of speeding up the scoring sequence, but it also speeds up the rate the viewers need to process those results. It feels like you're updating a personal spreadsheet of consequence in your head throughout the second half of the show.

For the semi-final, the envelopes are back and they're used to place the songs in the grand final vacant draw slots just as last year. This leads to extreme celebration on the part of the last country selected. The Armenians go crazy - it's their first year and they got left to last - seemingly at random. Perhaps the incident that made the producers think they were on to something here and that the semi-final result announcement could be even more dramatic.

On to the spoilers for 2006.

Those through from the semi-final are:

Finland - 292 points (a new semi-final record!)

Bosnia & Herzegovina - 267 points

Russia - 217 points

Sweden - 214 points

Lithuania - 163 points

Armenia (on their debut!) - 150 points

Ukraine - 146 points

Türkiye - 91 points

Ireland - 79 points

Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia - 76 points

For the second year running, Poland missed out on the final by a small number of points - six this year. Once again Monaco and Andorra finished near the bottom end of the semi-final scoreboard. Third last and last respectively. As ever, the points weren't revealed until after the grand final.

In the final and for the third year in a row, the voting sequence wasn't hugely tense or dramatic. In fact the winners, Finland, got the biggest points total in Eurovision to this point - spookily matching exactly the number of points they got in the semi-final 292. There are no nul points, but Malta came close with a solitary point awarded to them by Albania five votes from the end providing the sole moment of drama.

The big four were more widely distributed that last year's big four, bottom four moment - though there were still all on the right-hand side of the scoreboard. Having said that, all ten semi-finalists finished in the top twelve, only Romania and hosts Greece managing to intrude. The advantages of being the semi-final were now becoming stark.

Here's the full, final scoreboard for 2006.

Finland - Lordi - "Hard Rock Hallelujah" - 292 points

Russia - Dima Bilan - "Never Let You Go" - 248 points

Bosnia & Herzegovina - Hari Mata Hari - "Lejla" - 229 points

Romania - Mihai Trăistariu - "Tornerò" - 172 points

Sweden - Carola - "Invincible" - 170 points

Lithuania - LT United - "We Are the Winners" - 162 points

Ukraine - Tina Karol - "Show Me Your Love" - 145 points

Armenia - André - "Without Your Love" - 129 points

Greece - Anna Vissi - "Everything" - 128 points

Ireland - Brian Kennedy - "Every Song Is a Cry for Love" - 93 points

Türkiye - Sibel Tüzün - Süper Star - 91 points

Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia - Elena Risteska - "Ninanajna" - 56 points

Croatia - Severina - "Moja štikla" - 56 points (12th equal)

Norway - Christine Gulbrandsen - "Alvedansen" - 36 points

Germany - Texas Lightning - "No No Never" - 36 points (14th equal)

Switzerland - six4one - "If We All Give a Little" - 30 points

Latvia - Vocal Group Cosmos - "I Hear Your Heart" - 30 points (16th equal)

Denmark - Sidsel Ben Semmane - "Twist of Love" - 26 points

United Kingdom - Daz Sampson - "Teenage Life" - 25 points

Moldova - Arsenium feat. Natalia Gordienko and Connect-R - "Loca" - 22 points

Spain - Las Ketchup - "Bloody Mary" - 18 points

France - Virginie Pouchain - "Il était temps" - 5 points

Israel - Eddie Butler - "Together We Are One" - 4 points

Malta - Fabrizio Faniello - "I Do" - 1 point

[mariacallous]

Certain rituals and traditions that are fixtures in the annals of your life simply mean something by virtue of their existence. For me, the traditions that hold the most weight almost always have to do with food.

My family came to this country from the former Soviet Union in the late ’70s. New Year’s was the biggest holiday of the year in the U.S.S.R. for all people, including Jews. For post-Soviet Jewish immigrant families around the world, New Year’s, or Novy God, is still one of the most important holidays of the year. Traditionally, there’s feasting, dancing, music, the gathering of family and friends, and often you’ll find a New Year’s tree, too. That tree is not to be confused with the exactly identical-appearing Christmas tree. Yes, even my grandparents had a New Year’s tree during my childhood. Like many other Soviet Jews they didn’t know it as anything other than an entirely secular joyous winter tradition. I remember having to keep the fact that we had a tree a secret. This was before the term “Hanukkah Bush” became a thing, and I knew enough from attending Jewish day school to recognize that Jews having a tree in their home might be taboo.

The tree wasn’t ever as important as the food we ate. My grandmother loved to make a four-course meal, and the first course featured a variety of salads, smoked fish and red caviar. I can’t remember a first course New Year’s feast without salad Olivier on our table. salad Olivier, or Russian potato salad, is an extremely popular Russian dish, and it is nearly synonymous with Novy God. You’ll be hard pressed to find a Soviet-style New Year’s celebration without it. While it’s considered celebratory, the salad is made with humble ingredients: boiled potatoes and carrots, peas, pickles, hard-boiled egg, mayonnaise and often some kind of meat like a Mortadella or smoked ham.

The salad was first prepared by Lucien Olivier in the 1860s. Olivier was the French chef of a famous restaurant in Moscow called The Hermitage; hence the very French name for this now-popular Russian salad. Also, Russians were obsessed with French culture at that time. Salad Olivier was an immediate hit, and it became the restaurant’s signature dish. Originally, it was made with crayfish, capers and even grouse. After the revolution, simpler and easier-to-come-by ingredients were more commonly adapted into the recipe. These ingredients are also all conveniently available in the dead of winter.

The popularity of the salad spread beyond Russia to Eastern Europe, the Balkans and even to Iran and Pakistan. In fact, in our family we call this dish salad de boeuf (pronounced as “de beff”), which is what this salad is inexplicably called in Romania and Western Ukraine. Boeuf means “beef” in French, and this salad contains no beef at all.

In each geographic locale, the salad might differ slightly. Sometimes the potatoes are mashed instead of cubed, or there’s shredded chicken instead of smoked meat, or sometimes there’s no meat at all, as was the custom in our family. What makes this type of potato salad uniquely a salad Olivier is the presence of potatoes combined with carrots, peas, pickles and hard-boiled eggs. Everything should be chopped to roughly the same size. The appeal of something seemingly odd and vaguely average is ultimately mysterious, but the combination of hearty firm potatoes, sweet cooked carrots, crisp pickles, earthy peas and silky eggs in a creamy tangy dressing just works. The ingredients meld together, each losing its own particular edge to combine to make a complete range of salty, sweet, tangy, satisfying tastes in each bite. I think this salad’s enduring and far-reaching popularity proves that it’s eaten for more than tradition’s sake.

If you’re going to attempt to make this for the first time there are a few things to know. For one, this recipe reflects how my family likes this dish. If you’ve had this before, it might be slightly different from what you’re used to. More importantly, the quality of each ingredient matters to the overall success of the dish. I like to use Yukon Gold potatoes because they hold up well and have a pleasant rich sweetness, but you can definitely try it with your favorite potatoes. Taste the carrots before you cook them; they should be sweet and flavorful, not the dull astringent variety you sometimes find in the supermarket. The best pickles for this dish are ones that come from the refrigerator section, that still have a crunch, and are brined in salt with zero vinegar added. They’re also known as “naturally fermented” pickles. The type of mayonnaise you use is also key, and I swear by Hellmann’s/Best Foods.

While our family assimilated to American life in all kinds of ways and happily observed all of the Jewish holidays, celebrating New Year’s was an unspoken honoring of our past. My family loves America; they are proud they could come here and offer their children a better life, which included being able to be openly Jewish and free from religious persecution. And yet, there will always be a meaningful connection to their place of origin, particularly to the food they ate as children, and to a life that formed their identity. Whether we acknowledge that or not, or even fully realize it, eating salad Olivier at the new year offers that link to our past.

Notes:

You can cook the potatoes and carrots up to two days in advance, and store in the refrigerator. 

This salad need to sit for 1 hour before serving, and can be made up to a day in advance.

This salad stores well for two days. You can also make this without the dressing up to three days in advance, then add the dressing before serving.

[mr-l2000]

Your Bleeding Heart( A Van Helsing Fanfic)

Chapter 1: Archenemies

  Eerie. That would be one word most travelers would use to describe nights in Transylvania. The year was 1887 in the middle of November where we find ourselves in the currently chilly region of Romania. Rarely would you ever be able to see the stars out at night due to the heavy mist nor would you get to see the morning sun due to the high mountains and thick clouds. It was a hard and gloomy place to live, but people managed. After all, it took a certain type of person to persevere through such places with many either succumbing to the harsh conditions or falling to the beasts that inhabited the lands. On one night in particular though, it was far more grim for a particular Roma.

  Her name was Anna Valerious, and there she was, walking through her town seemingly aimless to the average person. It had only been a few days after her brother, the last living member of her immediate family, had seemingly met his demise, and Anna was in mourning. She had started slacking in her duties and found it harder and harder to get out of bed. Most of the townspeople understood her grief and managed on as best they could without her guidance, but in truth, they needed someone to look to more than ever; a leader.

  Anna had eventually found herself at the town’s graveyard, downing a bottle of rum, and looking at the names on each headstone that carried the Valerious name until she finally found her father’s, Boris Valerious. It had been months since she last visited his grave with this also being the first time she visited her brother Velkan’s empty one, as neither Anna or her men could recover a body. She felt lost. 

  For so many days she struggled to wrap her head around her new reality. The last of her family. The honor and reputation of her entire bloodline is relied soley on her success in killing Dracula, the bane of her family’s existence, but she couldn’t help but wonder. Was she even good enough? 

  Anna always had a rebellious streak since she was a child and found it difficult to follow in the lessons her father tried to instill in her about the duties of their family as well as the significance of them. It was only after she witnessed firsthand just how ruthless vampires could be after seeing many of her own family die before their intended passings that she finally took her familial obligations more seriously. In spite of this though, Anna had grown to become the more brash between her and Velkan and while she was better at fighting, he was always better at making plans as well as keeping good relations with the people. He was her overprotective and supportive big brother and she’d always love him for that.

  She hated that he was gone, that he had left her, and that it was her plan that ultimately got him killed. She was angry more than anything as she looked up to the sky, praying for the answers as to why it had to be her, fighting back her tears as best as she could. Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sudden gust of wind followed by a sultry voice.

”Your sorrow was too intoxicating for me not to find you so easily princess.” A soft lilted voice said.

  Aleera, one of the three brides of Dracula had appeared from the shadows, her fiery red hair flowing freely in the wind. Her eyes flared a unique lavender with dangerous intent as she slowly approached the princess; a lopsided smirk formed on her lips, basking in the burning anticipation of the fight to come against her long time foe.

  Aleera had made a sort of routine out of coming to see the princess at random times over the years. Using whatever excuse she could to leave the castle to see her foe with her intention being to antagonize Anna. The main reason though, being that she actually wished to see her. Not that she believed that anyone would ever understand or that she wanted anyone to. After all, they were supposed to be archenemies or so that’s how Aleera presented there dynamic; claiming that she’d often fantasize about the taste of Anna’s blood or how one would eventually kill the other and how it seemed oh so thrilling whenever they did fight. So it was completely understandable for the few who believed her reasoning. After 100’s of years of boredom, no one had ever gotten her as excited or as invested as Anna did in her development. 

  In truth, she hadn’t thought much of the girl when she was only a child, finding her impulsiveness and temper cute at best, particularly with how messy and unkempt her hair always was back then when she got into fights with the local kids. As she grew overtime though, Aleera couldn’t help but admire her beauty. Whispers of a temptation started to emerge; birthing a deep desire for the princess.

  In moments like those she would wonder how easily it would be to take the girl for herself not just out of spite to the Valerious’s, but her own lustful desires. Imagining how strong she’d be as a vampiress and especially by her side. She would usually discard those ideas though, and simply resided herself to playing with Anna. Seeing how hard the young woman fought to stay alive, knowing that she could easily kill the princess in the blink of an eye; enjoying the fire that would burn within her eyes as she only got better with each encounter as the years passed. On the few occasions that Anna seemingly had the advantage, Aleera was clearly enjoying herself even then. That false sense of security that she provided bolstering the young girl’s confidence, it was….. adorable. Up until that overconfidence inadvertently bit the vampire in the butt whenever Anna got a lucky hit in and managed to escape her clutches. Not that the redhead minded though. She wanted to see her grow and blossom even further. In truth she couldn’t imagine spending her days not seeing the gypsy again as it became something of a light in her otherwise boring grey days spent at the castle. 

  Sure she loved her master as well as her fellow brides, Marishka and even Verona to an extent, but none of them had ignited the passions she felt when she was with Anna in recent years. She didn’t spend too much time thinking beyond her desires merely being physical, as anything else would make things far more complicated for her.

  And here she was, looking for a fight with the princess as if it were merely another day for the two. Walking slowly and sensually as she eyed up her prey. Aleera did her usual taunting trying the get a rise out of the woman, only for those words to fall on deaf ears. That was, until she mentioned Velkan.    

  THAT was enough to catch the attention of the princess who looked up at the vampire with pure hatred in her eyes. It put Aleera off somewhat as the fire that once illuminated her hazel orbs seemed dimmed, a coldness taking their place. The vampiress said nothing after this, trying to focus on the battle that was about to take place; but this was no battle. Anna was sloppy and she moved far slower than she was capable of. Heavy swings with killer intent in mind, but no precision in her strikes. This was…..wrong Aleera thought to herself. The redhead being upset was an understatement.

  After everything they’d been through, THIS was what Anna had to offer her? A pitiful display of swordsmanship as if she was the same rank amateur she was when they first met? Was she TRYING to piss me off? Aleera finally lost her patience as she grabbed the princess, slamming her hard against a nearby tree. “Surely no one would find your body before the night ends right?” She teased in a murderous tone. Anna barely struggled as her hands were placed over her head by the stronger female. “Oh do not worry my love, take comfort knowing I shall weep over your corpse”. 

  Aleera bared her fangs and screeched loudly to get SOME reaction from the princess again. Anna could only looked away with her eyes closed in shame. Aleera had mixed feelings about this. Why wasn’t she fighting back? This isn’t like her……

  So many thoughts had been running in Anna’s mind in that moment though, but the one constant train of thought that kept appearing was that she was a failure. She was no warrior and so, she deserved to die such a pitiful death. She started apologizing quietly to herself as she heard the screams of her brother as he fell to his death at the hands of the werewolf. She remembered her father being whisked away from their home by Dracula himself never to be seen again. She remembered her mother who became sick and died bedridden rather than a warrior’s death. Everything she forced down to continue fighting boiled over to the surface as she broke into tears, choking on her own words as she waited for the redhead to finish her off, but then something unexpected happened. Aleera let her arms free. But Why?

  Aleera’s face softened with confusion and concern now. She looked Anna in the eyes and nearly jumped out her own skin when she saw….nothing. There was nothing there, as if her soul had already left her body. And when the tears started to fall she couldn’t help but feel guilty.

  She found herself split on what to do. She had already freed Anna out of her clutches, ending there “game”, and she was left to ponder what to do next. It had never truly occurred to Aleera how her and her family’s actions had truly impacted the princess until she saw how broken the poor woman truly was now. That vision of a strong brave warrior princess shattered before her eyes and was replaced with what she saw before her. She wondered when she must have forgotten what it was like to be human, to lose the people she loved. That part of her detested her past actions.

 Every slap, every deep cut, bruise, or threat towards Anna came back in a flow of memories as she turned to look at the headstones of Velkan as well as Anna’s father, Boris, only reinforcing the feeling of remorse that had started to form in her stomach. She looked back at Anna who seemed hesitant to get up and try to either run or fight. Aleera was at a loss.

  She wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. She wanted to reach out to Anna to reassure her of something. Of what, she didn’t know but the desire to not see her in her saddened state was the driving force for her in that moment. Her fist was clenched from the uncertainty in her mind. They were enemies after all, right? Why should she care, and what could she possibly do to fix what’s seemingly beyond repair? But still, she couldn’t help but take in her scent more as she crouched down to eye level with the other woman. Her need to, at the very least, try inspired her to do what she did next.

  Anna flinched when she saw Aleera raise her hand to her face but tried her best not make any sudden movements. Her heart suddenly skipped a beat when she realized what the redhead was doing. She’s, wiping my tears away? It was such an oddly comforting gesture that Anna hadn’t even known the vampire was capable of it, and yet there she was with a surprising look of empathy in her eyes as she placed a warm palm on Anna’s cheek. She was speechless.

  She was initially dejected at this though, as she certainly didn’t want Aleera of all people to see her like this, let alone to have her take pity on her. And yet, when she saw Aleera’s hazel eyes had softened and no longer flared with murderous intent, she took pause and relaxed her body against her better judgement. Could think of worse ways this could’ve gone, Anna thought to herself. Before Aleera could say anything, her ears focused in on the princess’s heart.   

  Previously, even when they had been “fighting”, Anna’s heart rate was steady, but gradually dropped once she was at the vampiress’s mercy. Aleera had noticed the spike a bit after her hand grazed the princess’s cheek. Anna kept her eyes on the redhead, realizing that her gaze had lowered to her chest, making her feel somewhat uncomfortable. What the hell is she looking at? Anna thought, avoiding the lingering gaze of Aleera. Aleera had noticed the color returning back to Anna’s face and noticed the abnormal red tint that started to warm her skin. Was…was she blushing?

  Such a small detail and yet if Aleera was capable of doing so, her face would’ve turned red at the realization as well. She knew that what she was doing may have been perceived as perhaps invasive, but it hadn’t occurred to her that Anna would react in such a way. Anna was clearly flustered right now, making Aleera smile slightly at the knowledge. A clear sign that some of the initial tensions had lessened. Anna’s chest started rising more noticeably as Aleera found herself leaning in closer. Her hand sliding down from Anna’s cheek and placing her index finger firmly under the princess’s chin now. She hesitates for a minute before looking back into Anna’s eyes, looking for approval for what she was about to do. What was happening right now, was the last thought on Anna’s mind as she realized that there was nowhere for her to go, and that surprisingly enough, she didn’t want to leave in that moment. Her lips had parted slightly and her eyes closed her eyes in anticipation.

  How could she feel like this towards someone whom she had grown to despise after so many years? They were ARCHENEMIES for God’s sake, these types of feelings shouldn’t even exist, but the fact of the matter was that they’d always been there ever since she first met the redhead all those years ago, and right now, in spite of there past history, Anna needed to feel that closeness desperately. With no one else to go to, Aleera was all that was left. She didn’t want to feel alone, even if it was for a brief moment…

  Aleera felt a sense of satisfaction from how willing Anna was in that moment. No fighting, no snarky remarks, running, surprise attacks, just acceptance. What made this moment even sweeter was that the redhead’s desires were seemingly mutual. To what degree for Anna, she couldn’t say, but it was clear that at the very least, the princess wanted THIS as much as her…and yet, it somehow felt wrong to her.

  She had dreamt of this level of intimacy with the gypsy far more than she’d care to count and yet for some reason, the moment felt cheap. As if she had caught the princess in an exposed state and was taking advantage of it. Then again, why should she care? This was probably the only chance she’d get to claim her, but for some reason, she actually felt a tinge of guilt. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time? Anna’s scent was intoxicating. A fragrance of perfumes as well as Anna’s warm blood flowed just beneath her pale skin calling out to Aleera as the lines between arousal and hunger became blurred for her, and Satan only knows what Aleera would’ve done to the poor woman if she didn’t have the strength to pull away in that moment. 

  She had to push away from the princess and cut off her breathing fast in spite of herself, something she didn’t take lightly. She felt her surprisingly fast pacing heart cease to move as she grabbed at her chest at the sudden brush of coldness that washed over her. She looked down at Anna who looked both confused and hurt in that moment. She had to ponder her next few words carefully.

  On Anna’s side of things, she was internally frustrated for a number of reasons. What the hell was that? Anna was outright dumbfounded by her own actions, realizing that she wanted whatever was going to happen, and realizing just how disappointed she was that it didn’t. A chill that the princess hadn’t seemed to register at first,  had suddenly swept through her body as she struggled against her instinct to shiver from the absence of warmth. Prior to closing her eyes, she stared back into Aleera’s and saw the desire that she knew she had for her, but there was also something else. Something more earnest that she couldn’t quite describe. Whatever it was, in that moment, Anna felt the absence of its inviting shroud and yearned to linger in its embrace, reluctant to let go of it. Whatever doubts she may have felt or fears she may have had had disappeared as she found herself lost in Aleera gaze. If this was another one of her little mind games, she had taken things too far this time. More than anything now, she was upset that the vampire had let go of her, as she craved it deeply after everything she’d been through in the past few days. Aleera owed her that much for interrupting her grieving. And to top it all off, she felt weird about the whole thing. She actually WANTED to be close to Aleera again and even looked up at with pleading eyes, hoping that the redhead would understand her plight.

  Aleera always perceived herself as the type of person that goes after whatever and whoever she may desire. But if she had simply kissed Anna, what good would that do for her? Just another concubine in the long list of thralls she’s drained(in more ways than one) over the years. Anna was special and she knew it. And so, her lips started moving. She didn’t know why she was saying what she was saying or why she was saying it, but maybe, just maybe, it was what Anna needed to hear.    

  In spite of her being more than aware of the true fate of the princess’s brother, she didn’t want to kill the mood of the night and simply focused on Anna faltering in their fight. She expressed her personal disappointment with the gypsy and how she had a duty to everyone who had died before her, reminding her as to why she had been training and fighting her heart out everyday. And just as it seemed as though Aleera was about to leave, Anna finally asked her why she didn’t kill her. The princess wasn’t expecting the answer she received but in all honesty she should’ve known better. Aleera shrugged, telling her that she respected her too much to try and kill her at her lowest. That when the time comes to take her life, she wants her to be full of life like never before before she snuffs out Anna’s flame, snapping her fingers for dramatic effect. This revelation cooled the princess off quite a bit understandably. 

  She felt like an idiot expecting anything else from the redhead. She mustered up the strength needed to stand up while Aleera strained herself to remain in place to stop herself from helping her. She wiped whatever remaining tears were on her face as she stared the red head down.

  With a newfound determination in her eyes, Anna welcomed the challenge, promising Aleera and herself that she would never falter again. Aleera was pleased by this resolve and gave a wicked smile as she took on her demon bat form, silently flying on into the night sky, anticipating their reunion.

[buckets-and-trees]

A Man Is Not His Song - More than a Melody's Needed [1/?]

Series: A Man Is Not His Song

Fandom: MCU

Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky x female!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: After DC but before Romania, The Winter Soldier wanders, trying to figure out who James Buchanan Barnes was, who he is, and stay hidden from anyone who could be looking for him.

Content Warnings: none this chapter

Additional Notes: This will be a short series – no more than three to five parts. I started this in September, but of course was working on The Brooklyn Boys and then took up Silent Screams in Wildest Dreams and was doing my best to finish the latter while it was still a tiny bit spooky season. I thought this would be a one-shot, but after getting back to this and mulling it over for the past few days, I think it actually is a short series, not just a one-shot. The title for this series (and this chapter) is taken from Feist's A Man Is Not His Song.

“Wait! Stop!”

Within seconds the stranger had crossed the room, had his right hand around your wrist, and the other gloved hand – instead of going for your throat or to cover your mouth or whatever else you expected – half-covered and half-gripped the phone in your hand.

“I’ll leave, just please don’t call anyone.”

“You– “

Your heart was beating out of your chest, adrenaline pumping through your veins, and your hands were trembling, but you saw an undercurrent of fear in the eyes of the hulking man invading your space. Possibly more afraid than you.

“You’re hiding. Who are you running from?”

“I don’t know the full reach of who I’m running from, but they are embedded in a lot of the system, which is why I need you not to call anyone.”

Your brow furrowed, your pulse starting to slow as you studied him.

“Give me an hour before you call. Please.”

You bit your lip. Everything in his look, the strain on his face, it was all desperation and fear. It wasn’t pathetic, clearly the man wasn’t weak or helpless, but it was tense.

You slowly brought your left hand up to rest on top of his right hand which was still gripping your wrist. “I won’t call anyone, and this could be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but stay here if you need to.”

It was his brow furrowing now. “Really?”

“My mom would be screaming that I’ve lost my mind, but my grams and gramps always did a good deed when they could, and this was their cabin. Besides,” you broke off and nodded your head to the other side of the kitchen where your border collie stood, “Knox doesn’t seem to have a problem with you, and he’s a better judge of character than anyone.”

The dog was certainly alert to the situation but seemingly unworried about the stranger, only that the two of you seemed tense.

Slowly he withdrew his hands from their grip on your wrist and your phone, and you each took a step back.

“Now if you’re staying, you can make earn your keep by getting the groceries from the car.”

He still regarded you with suspicion, but he nodded and moved towards the door, glancing once more over his shoulder at you before exiting.

You took a deep shaky breath, leaning against the counter. Your heart had slowed slightly from its racing pace, but it was still beating rapidly. You had no idea who had taken over your body and seemed to handle that in such a cool and collected manner, but whoever she was, at least she kept you from peeing your pants.

You moved quickly from the kitchen to the great room, Knox falling into step with you. There was a blanket near the fireplace along with a journal and a couple of books, a very utilitarian black backpack next to the couch.

Quick checks of the bedrooms made it appear that everywhere else had remained untouched by the stranger. You stepped into the bathroom upstairs and splashed a bit of cool water on your face, then patted your face dry before taking another deep breath and steeling yourself to go back to the kitchen.

The primary reason you’d sent the man out to the car to get the groceries was because he could have used the opportunity to take the car and get away. Yes, you had your keys, but the man had gotten into the secure cabin without any apparent damages, and if he could pick a lock and disarm a security system that quickly, he was on the run and could probably hotwire a car, too, and if you sent him outside to the car, he could make his break for it. You’d rather him take his out now and report the car missing – he would likely abandon it not far from here, and you’d be able to recover it. It’s what you would do… or rather what you would write into the plot for one of your characters on the run to do.

Knox had stuck with you around the house, but he trotted ahead as you returned to the kitchen. Once you entered, you found Knox surreptitiously following the man around as he put away the groceries.

It was a scene that would be mundane if only he weren’t a stranger.

He looked at you every moment or so, a mix between skittish and suspicious. You still felt a little trepidatious, but the fact that this hulking specimen of a man – with a thick neck, a strong jaw, and a chest and arms that were clearly rippling with muscles on muscles that he was trying to keep covered up – was nervous calmed you more and more. If he were deranged, the crazy would be showing more, and if he were a threat, he’d be projecting confidence or danger, right?

“You seem to have things handled here. It’s been a few weeks since anyone’s been around, so I’m going to take care some other things around the cabin.”

You turned on your heel, then paused and looked back over your shoulder at him. “I guess it hasn’t been a few weeks… how long have you been here?”

He looked directly at you as he answered, “Two nights.”

You nodded and then left him there in the kitchen. The cabin had been modestly updated over the many years, so truthfully there wasn’t a long list of things for you to take care of, but you did go check to make sure the water main and hot water heater were on, switched on the two breakers that get switched off between visits, and then went to the stacks on the south side of the house to collect some wood for the fireplace.

Fall in the cabin had always been one of your favorite times. Summer meant trips down to the lakefront, bike rides, family, bonfires, sleep outs under the stars. Winter was cold, snowy, dotted with holidays and weekend getaways, hot coffee, cider, cocoa, tea, lots of toast, and curling up in blankets. Spring was fresh, new, energizing, and anticipation for summer. But fall danced between warm and cool in the way that invited sweaters and a good fire in the fireplace at night but without the bitter cold. Fall was the time when the rest of the world seemed to be getting back to business after summer, but a chance you’d begun to seize each year to get away, sometimes for as long as six or eight weeks, to write and research, away from any distractions, in near solitude as the rest of the family took time off from any holidays or vacations, leaving the cabin completely at your disposal.

After depositing your armful of logs by the fireplace, you began stacking them neatly as your grandfather had shown you and your brother as kids. It also put you near those volumes you’d clocked earlier, and now you could see it’s not a journal and some books, but two journals and three books – one about World War II, one on the Korean War, and one about the rise and fall of the Iron Curtain. As a writer, you knew the signs of research someone is invested in when you saw it. You could tell one journal was full due to how worn it was – not old, but thoroughly used already – and the other next to it had a pen resting a few pages into it, keeping it from closing flat. You burned to reach for the journals but held yourself back only with great restraint.

You could tell the stranger hadn’t made a fire of any kind, which early October certainly called for, but which made sense if he was hiding. Smoke from a chimney that wasn’t expected to be occupied could have had one of the remote neighbors calling or stopping by. The other cabins weren’t close, but it was the type of place where the neighbors generally knew each other, had a couple of summer bonfires together, and this cabin had been in your family for a few generations.

Luckily it wasn’t too cold for the season yet, but after dark you would be glad for the heat, and so you got to making a fire since it would take a few hours for the heat to generate true warmth through the cabin. Once you got a small but strong fire going, you carefully staked in a few more logs so it would be sustainable for a few hours.

You returned to the kitchen, following the smell of beef stew and warm bread. The stranger was slowly stirring a pot on the stove, and he turned his head to nod at you as you entered. You stopped at the very edge of the counter, still giving him some space.

“So, what’s your name?” you ask.

“James,” he answers.

James was such a generic name it could be fake, but you weren’t going to press it.

You offered up your name as well. Only your first name.

After watching him for another moment, you spoke again. “Why does my dog already like you more than me, James?”

He lets out an almost laught that’s more of a huff. “I think he’s cautiously wary. Hasn’t moved from that spot watching me.”

You smiled, then bent down and held your hand out for Knox, and he immediately sauntered over for some pats and ear scratches. It did appear he’d been watching James, but your dog didn’t seem overly concerned with the presence of the stranger anymore.

You moved to the sink to wash your hands, and Knox moved back to the spot he routinely took up in the kitchen (the spot James said he’d been watching from). James pulled the bread from the oven and began cutting into hearty slices. You started puling bowls, plates, glasses, and silverware out and set the table for two. Within a few minutes, you were both seated at the table, James dishing up servings of the stew to each of your bowls while you started buttering a slice of the warm bread. Knox had come over to lay quietly under the table at your feet.

The dinner started in silence, and you could feel him glancing up to look at you as much as you were at him. You were so eager to launch a thousand questions at him, but you didn’t want him to bolt. As dangerous and idiotic as this was logically – keeping a stranger on the run in your cabin in the woods during the off-season – you were caught in the curiosity of it now.

And even though you had come to the woods to get away from everyone, now that there was someone here, maybe you didn’t want to be so completely alone after all.

His first few looks over at you had been true glances, quick, clocking, assessing. After a few more minutes, you could feel a first and then second longer, more speculative looks, and you refrained from your looks, letting him take you in, willing him to feel more at ease in your presence.

The third time he really looked at you though, you smiled and looked openly back at him. He didn’t seem to be alarmed or bothered by you meeting his gaze, and he did not return your smile, but his expression seemed to soften slightly in the eyes.

“Okay,” you started, “I want to know why you picked this place and what you’ve figured out about my family since you’ve been here for a couple of days.”

He continued to slowly chew his mouthful of stew, his eyes narrowing just a fraction as he regarded your face, no doubt trying to assess your tactics, see if there was a trap to dodge.

“Answer my two queries, and then you can ask me two of your own,” you offer.

He nodded, swallowed, then started to answer. 

“The cabins here are remote but accessible to civilization, and spread out enough out here in the forest to be private. This one looked inauspicious and the back porch has heavy tree cover on both sides, which allows for slipping in and out without drawing attention.”

“Oh.” Of course, the trees your grandparents had put in to provide plenty of privacy so the family could always relax without worrying about prying eyes from any neighbors meant perfect seclusion. You wouldn’t suggest to the family that you thin the trees at all, but it was clearly time for an exterior camera system to be able to keep tabs on the place when no one was around.

“Your grandparents built the cabin in 1972, brought their kids often. A large addition was made ten or twelve years ago that corelates with the architecture, but it’s clearly newer and doubled the size of the cabin, and it tracks with the number of family members that grew in the photos on the walls. Your grandparents spent their full summers here in their retirement years. Now that they’re gone, the four sons they left behind still occupy the full summer season here, but only with all of you here at the same time for Independence Day. Your father is the oldest; the cabin was left to him, though he generously lets any of the family use it. The pantry is generally well-stocked with a mix of home-canned and shelf-stable foods. There’s an extensive game closet, and the study is a smaller room, but it has a decent library started by your grandfather and an old desk that looks like it’s been used routinely over the years.”

You nod as he makes each of his correct assertions.

“One of your uncles is a photographer. Your grandfather wrote history. There’s another family author with a featured spot on the wall, but your genre is historical fiction, specifically the American Revolution.”

You sit back in your chair a bit and drum your fingers on the table before breaking your eye contact and deciding to reach for another slice of bread.

“You’re correct on all accounts.”

“I know.”

“So how did you-“

“No,” he cuts you off. “It’s not your turn to ask questions anymore.”

Your shake your head but close your mouth. When he doesn’t immediately pose his questions, you push your chair back from the table, going to retrieve a jar of your favorite jam from the cupboard.

After sitting back down, he still didn’t speak, but you see he has filled his bowl with more stew. You spread a smooth layer of butter over you bread, then covered it with a layer of the jam. Knox shifted at your feet, content to rest and wait, but you knew his movement indicated he was hopeful either of you will drop something to the floor for him.

“What are you writing?”

You groaned, then swallowed the bite of bread you’d just taken. “Did my editor send you? That’s exactly what she’d like to know, too.”

Rather than pressing you for more, he let the topic sit with you, but in a way that indicated he was waiting for you to say more. It’s a behavior you would soon become familiar with from him, though you didn’t know it then.

“Did you read any of my stuff?”

He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow, and you saw the spark of mirth in his eyes.

“Right,” you responded and rolled your eyes. “Not my turn for questions.”

He nodded, then continued eating, eyes on you.

“I would be more annoyed if I weren’t a little impressed at your commitment to the bit.”

“You still haven’t answered.”

“Because I’m not writing anything right now. The research in the time period is just as interesting as it always has been, but I don’t have a story that’s pulling my curiosity yet. No spark, no intrigue, no inspiration.”

You let silence flow between you again and took the moments to finish off your slice of bread. You debated internally for a moment, but then reached for another slice, layering it with butter and jam, cut it down the middle and offered half of it to James just as he was setting his spoon down.

“Here, I can’t eat the whole thing.”

He took it without comment but studied it for a moment, then he turned his piercing blue eyes back to you.

“What makes you so comfortable around me?”

Your stomach flipped. Truly you weren’t comfortable around him, but you didn’t feel unsafe. He made you nervous, but – stupid or not – it wasn’t for the logical reason of him being a total stranger who could murder you at any moment. No, it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the dark hair that hung slightly across his face, his strong jaw, the muscles barely concealed by his layered shirts, and especially in the way his eyes looked at you as if he were looking into you, not just at you.

You realized you’d taken too long to answer, and you hoped he didn’t notice your cheeks heat slightly. “Like I said before, Knox has always been a good judge of character,” you quickly said. It was true, and your dog seemed just as much at ease with him as with you and many of your close family and friends. “He’s extremely well-behaved, but he’s not content and at ease with everyone he meets.”

“Hmm,” he hummed.

“And now I can ask you more questions,” you said with a grin.

He finally broke off his eye contact again, turning it to the bread and jam in his hand. “I’d much rather listen to you talk,” he admitted. Then he took a bite, and his eyes immediately closed, and he moaned as he chewed and then swallowed.

You laughed lightly. “So, you like it?”

He opened his eyes again and shot what could be considered a glare at you. “It shouldn’t be this good.”

You watched him fight with quickly devouring the rest of it and trying to slowly savor each bite. He then reached for the last slice of bread that had been put out for dinner, buttered it, and slathered it with an even layer of jam.

You grinned, but pushed away from the table, grabbing your dishes to take them to the sink. “I should take Knox out for his evening walk before it gets too late.”

Hearing his name and the word out, Knox was quick to get up and follow you.

“I’ll clear dinner,” James said.

You nodded, then headed out of the kitchen. You ran upstairs and rifled through your bags to get your favorite sweatshirt and threw it on. At the back door, you slipped into your boots and put the harness and leash on a very patient Knox, then headed out into the crisp evening air. It was just hitting twilight, and you and Knox both were keen for a long stretch of your legs after the afternoon’s long drive up to the cabin. You also needed to walk off some of the lingering adrenaline and nervous energy from the presence of your unexpected guest.

Your adventurous dog was always up for a long walk, but by the time you finally returned, he seemed to perk up seeing the cabin back in his sights. By that time you’d also worked out why you were amenable to bunkering down with your strange intruder.

Listlessness.

Your life was good, but you were languishing in a period of dullness. Nothing new, no relationship, lacking inspiration in your writing, feeling more like you were treading water in your life than making any progress. There wasn’t anything bad, hardly anything to even complain about, but nothing noteworthy.

As reckless and dangerous as it was to allow a stranger who had broken into a cabin in the woods to continue staying with you, you craved a little reckless danger in your soul. You had Knox, your phone, and your intuition.

And your intuition was certainly aware of the situation, but when you replayed that first minute with him, where he could have easily overpowered or hurt you and didn’t, and you saw that fear in his eyes when he pled with you simply not to call anyone because he was trying to stay hidden, you felt this was a reasonable risk.

But not if you thought about it too much.

It was what it was.

He could have left in the commotion of your arrival out one of the other doors or probably any of the windows. He could have left when you went to check around the house – twice. Instead, he unloaded the groceries and made dinner.

Even if you’d caught him off guard initially and then he’d only stayed to fuel up one last time with the dinner, your evening walk with Knox had given him ample time to either escape or set a proper trap for you, and so you’d know what fate lay before you as soon as you got back inside.

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If you enjoyed, reblog to help others find this story AND to normalize fic-reblogging culture around here. I’m still new on the scene, but more established writers that I admire around here are spreading the call that we all need to reblog to keep this place a happy home for fic writers in the fandom.

My askbox is open.

[calicoaidan]

Eurovision 2023 - the (pre-show) verdict!

So a few weeks back I fired my Eurovision takes for the first half of 2023's songs, it's time for round 2 with the full rankings from 1-37 down below!

Songs I adore from the second half: • Finland - Cha Cha Cha is purely a banger. It manages to be both aggressive and catchy with the staging just amplifying that. I don't have any more notes to offer, I just adore this. • Netherlands - Burning Daylight - With a lot of bands and general up-tempo stuff featuring this year, there's a window for a good ballad (strong emphasis on the word good) to catch the eye. Burning Daylight pulls it off, if the live version in Liverpool is this clean then we'll have a hit. • Sweden - Tattoo - I don't think this is as good as Euphoria and I'm a little dubious about how much of a bookies favourite it is, but jaysus the staging they used at Melodifestivalen looked so good. • Austria - Who the Hell is Edgar? - Fun with a deeper point, I worry that the point might be missed without some clever staging in Liverpool but I can see this being a hit post-Eurovision. • Germany - Blood and Glitter - Industrial Metal meets Eurovision in a way that just works, I really hope this gets a decent televote.

Songs I'm not so keen on: • Poland - It's bland, the national final performance was dreadful, and there's allegations that TVP (the Polish equivalent of the BBC) really tipped the scales in favour of this song. I'm not going to link to every song I dislike but have a gander, you be the judge. • UK - Sorry Mae, even with this song being put last in the running order (which typically helps for public voting), I just don't think the song itself will stand out (it's not an issue with the artist, I just don't think the tune works) - expecting a bottom 5 on Grand Final night. • Serbia - This has a lot of the fan love right now and it's unique, but I just get very little from it. Remember when Portugal sent Conan Osiris (who I loved) in 2019 and it flopped with the televote because the general public seemingly couldn't engage with it? I fear the same here, especially with it being the third song in semi-final 1 (which is an absolute bloodbath this year because of the overall song quality).

Anyhoo, enough of that...

It's ranking time!

Here's 11th to 37th in order: 11: Estonia 12: Greece 13: Iceland 14: Croatia 15: Ireland 16: Spain 17: Malta 18: Portugal 19: Latvia 20: Italy 21: Azerbaijan 22: France 23: Serbia 24: Ukraine 25: Switzerland 26: Norway (I know for a fact this will finish way higher, it just doesn't do anything for me personally) 27: Israel 28: United Kingdom 29: San Marino 30: Armenia 31: Moldova 32: Cyprus 33: Denmark 34: Albania 35: Georgia 36: Romania 37: Poland

I'll do the top 10 in reverse order:

10th (1 point) - Austria

9th (2 points) - Lithuania

8th (3 points) - Belgium

7th (4 points) - Sweden

6th (5 points) - Germany

5th (6 points) - Netherlands

4th (7 points) - Slovenia

3rd (8 points) - Australia

2nd (10 points) - Finland

1st (12 points) - Czechia

The whole top 10 is fantastic and no matter the way the semis break down, the Saturday night in Liverpool is going to be a great occasion.

The above is all subject to change as some folks will massively elevate their performance for the live shows while others struggle, but oh my - what a Eurovision we have to come!

If anyone has some face value tickets going, I'm all ears. 😅