#so that when soviets reached them and tried to drive over the ice

[poppy5991]

I’m listening to a series on The Winter War in which the Finnish concoct a series of hilarious and ingenious booby traps to screw over Soviet invaders who had more advanced military technology like tanks and more soldiers

And now I wish that MHA had featured a side episode of people without quirks getting pissed off and forming a regiment to conduct hijinks against AFOs small time villains.

Oh, you have a fancy quirk? Molotov cocktail ambush.

Wow, you have super strength? But are you strong enough to withstand the landmines I hid all over this building???

Your eyes can shoot lasers? Bring out the tear gas canisters.

[wicked-mind]

Find Me

Summary: Bucky finds his peace with Sam in Louisiana after dealing with the Flag Smashers. But when nightmares of a woman he can’t remember start haunting him, he has to find the reason why.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Maybe some swearing somewhere? Sad Bucky at some parts. Spoilers if you haven’t seen the movies.

Note: I’m, like, super proud of this one for some reason? I hope you all enjoy it (:

All Writings Masterlist

Italics for memories/dreams

As always, any likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! (: I love that shit.

*gifs not mine

The bunker hallway was ice cold, so cold he could see his own warm breath when he breathed. It felt like he had been walking down this hallway for hours, unable to find a way out. Once in a while he would hear a soft voice call his first name, James. It was a woman’s voice whispering in desperation for him. “Where are you?!” Bucky called through the hallway, “I can help you, just tell me where you are!” With no response, he continues his strides down the endless hallway. Every step he took closer to the end of the hallway that held a large metal door at the end it seemed like it shifted further and further away from him.

“You have to find me, James.” The voice whispered to him, her voice echoing through the hallway even though it was only a whisper, “Please find me.”

“I’m trying!” Bucky yelled out in frustration, turning his strides into a quick run. He ran as fast as he could towards the door at the end of the hallway but with every step he took towards the door, the further it shifted away from his grasp. He suddenly froze, feeling another presence around him. No, behind him. Before he could turn he felt two hands on the side of his temples from behind and sudden flashes ripped through his memory of his time with Hydra. Except everything and everybody was blurry except for a woman who stood back from the crowd, watching him with sad eyes, “Who are you?!” Bucky yelled, unable to move where he stood to look at who was causing these images through his head with their touch.

“Find me.” The voice said once more.

Bucky shot straight up from the couch, breathing hard from the nightmare. A few weeks after sorting things through with the Flag Smashers, these nightmares had started. Though they were different than just his usual nightmares. He never hurt anybody as the Winter Soldier in these nightmares, just saw the same hallway with the same metal door and the same voice whispering, pleading with him to find her. It was like now that everything was okay in his life again, something in his memory was trying to tell him something. Something about this woman he had to find. He took a few more deep breaths, calming himself down before making his way to Sam’s bathroom, splashing some water on his face to clean up the beaded sweat that covered his face and neck. He lifted his head to look in the mirror and for a moment he swore he saw the woman’s face in the mirror, making him jump. He turned quickly to see nothing there but the shower curtain. He ran his flesh hand over his face slowly. He would blame this on his lack of sleep from the nightmares.

Sam was in the yard, practicing throwing the shield he now could officially call his. He kept bouncing it around the trees before catching it, working on new ways to throw for offensive and defensive situations. He caught the shield as he saw Bucky making his way over to him with that tired, grumpy confused look on his face, “Another nightmare, tin-man?”

Bucky shrugs slightly at Sam’s question before stopping to stand next to him, “They’re getting worse. I saw the face to the voice this time. It’s a woman that was there during my time as the Winter Soldier. She keeps telling me to find her.” He sighs deeply, “I don’t know what all this means.” He said, taking the shield from Sam and throwing it at one of the trees set up with a mat before Sam caught it on its way back.

Sam hurled the shield at the tree, watching Bucky catch it with ease after it hit the bumper and flew back towards them, “And you don’t remember who she is at all?” He asked with an eyebrow raised. They always did better talking to each other when they trained otherwise it was usually just teasing or bickering but when they trained together it was different. They would talk about real things. Things friends would confide in each other.

Bucky shook his head, his brow furrowing, “I don’t remember who she is. But the way she looked at me in the dream… It feels like I know her.” He said, looking at Sam, “What if I do know her and she’s waiting for me to find her?”

Sam took the shield from Bucky, “Well you know what they say: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. So you better find her because the last woman we pissed off tried to end us all.” He said before throwing the shield at a tree without one of the mats as a bumper, causing it to embed itself into the trunk, “Now I know you aren’t much of an artist, but if you can manage to sketch up her face we can try having Torres run it through their system. Maybe give you some clues onto who your mystery woman could be.”

“James.” The voice whispered right in his ear as he stood in the long hallway. Although it was just a dream or nightmare, it felt like more. Like these reoccurring dreams or nightmares had been planted in his mind by whoever he was supposed to find. It was like their way of communicating, “What?!” Bucky yelled, his arms swinging up into the air in frustration, “What do you want with me?! Who even are you?!”

It was silent for a moment before the voice came back, “I need you to find me. You promised.” The voice whispered into his ear, causing him to turn but saw nobody there except the metal wall. He turned back and faced the door at the end of the hallway he could never reach, “I don’t even remember a promise or who you are!” He grumbled out which apparently earned a small chuckle from the voice that whispered in his ear in the empty hallway, “Find me and I’ll show you everything.”

Bucky looks around the hallway slowly, “Alright. I’ll find you. But can you at least give me a hint on where to find you?” He asks softly, watching for any type of movement or hints the voice may give him.

“The last time we saw each other was 2014.” The voice whispers to him before he felt a soft touch to his temples again but nobody was there, the hallway changing to him looking at himself as the Winter Soldier in a chair, talking to Alexander Pierce. This was the moment that Bucky had started to remember Steve after failing to eliminate him and Natasha. Before they brainwashed him again. It was heartbreaking for Bucky to watch himself look so confused and lost, like an abused animal at the hands of Hydra, “Why are you showing me this?” Bucky asks softly, his voice shaking at the memory.

“This was the last time I saw you. This was the last place we spoke before they brainwashed you again.” The voice whispered, “I never left.”

Sam watched Bucky zip up his black backpack and swing it over his shoulders, folding his own arms across his chest, “You think they have her at the bank where you were kept?” He questions, watching Bucky grab all the belongings he would need to head back to Washington D.C.

Bucky nods with a huff, “Yeah. She showed me a memory after I was sent as the Winter Soldier to attack you three on the bridge. She was there at the bank. She says she’s still there.” Bucky responded.

Sam nods slowly, processing the information before looking at Bucky, “I’ll go with you in case you need some sort of back up.”

The two made their way to Washington D.C. When it was Sam’s turn to drive, Bucky folded his arms and leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep wondering what the woman in his dreams would show him this time.

“We’re coming for you.” Bucky said into the empty hallway, not even attempting to go for the door at the end of the hallway. He had done that enough times to know he would never reach it and it would just get further away. There was no response from the voice for his statement. Bucky sighs and looks and the floor before looking around him slowly, “Can you at least tell me something about you? I don’t know who you are…”

Suddenly a little girl appeared in front of Bucky, flickering into existence. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but those eyes were the same ones that stared at him sadly from the previous vision she had showed him. Bucky looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly at the sight of the young girl, “Is this you?”

“This is what I looked like the first time we met.” The girl said to him softly, “I was sixteen.”

Bucky took a few steps towards her but just like the door, every step he took she just got further away so he froze in his spot, “Why would Hydra want a young girl?” He questioned. In all of his memories of Hydra, there were never any kids.

“We met in 1951 before you were sent to aid Soviet forces in the Korean War. You met another super soldier there and came back without your metal arm.” The girl told him, her eyes flickering to his vibranium hand for a moment before back to him, “After that, when you were unfrozen with no missions, you were tasked with protecting me.”

Bucky tilts his head at her. She knew things. Things he never told anybody except Sam recently, “How do you know this? Why would Hydra keep you around?”

“They kept me around because I knew things. They called me a psychic or a seer.” The girl responded, “When my powers peaked…” She paused, her body changing into an older version of herself, “They kept be frozen with you until I was needed to tell them how your missions would go.”

Bucky watched her body change but he still didn’t recognize her and he wondered why. He had searched his mind for years, thinking he got back every memory but he couldn’t remember her, “Why don’t I remember you?”

“Because both of us decided it was better for you to not remember me until everything was okay again.”

Bucky opened his mouth to ask another question but everything faded in his dream to black, the last thing he saw was the woman turning and walking back towards the door.

“Buck! Wake up, man.” Sam said, nudging Bucky’s shoulder with his hand, “We’re here.”

Bucky opened his eyes to look up at the Ideal Federal Savings Bank which had been used by Pierce to house the Winter Soldier until he was needed. He swallowed hard at the sight of it. The last time he was here was after he pulled Steve from the river after taking out the Hellicarriers. He had come to kill the remaining Hydra scientists but let one live, not wanting more blood on his hands before he began a life on the run. He got out of the car silently, Sam on his heels as he walked into the bank. He made his way to vault where he was kept, remembering how he questioned Alexander Pierce on who the man on the bridge was, saying he knew him before getting his memory wiped again.

Sam looked around, all the Hydra technology had been taken and it was just an empty vault now, “You sure this is where she said she was?” He asks, looking around at the walls lined with small lockboxes. Some were opened but others were still locked shut.

Bucky nodded, looking over to Sam, “Yeah..” He replied, his fists clenching at the memories. This was the last place he wanted to be.

“I don’t suppose she told you where…” Sam said, walking around the vault and trying to find any hints.

“Nope.” Bucky said, moving around the room also to take in everything. On every wall the lockboxes were open. Except one section in a corner of the room, the lockboxes were shut and didn’t have any keyholes. Bucky tilted his head at them slightly before throwing a punch with his vibranium arm and just as he suspected, it was a false wall. He pried the wall apart with his strength until he was looking down the hallway from his dreams with the large metal door at the end, “That’s the door from my dreams.”

Sam walked over to look down the hallway, “Alright. Let’s go get your mystery woman.” He said, following behind Bucky down the long hallway.

Bucky felt as though the closer he got to the door it would get further away like in his dream, but that wasn’t the case. He crossed the hallway and put his hand on the handle to the metal door, sighing in relief slightly that it was real and he wasn’t going crazy or stuck in one of his dreams. He looked at Sam who nodded saying he was ready for whatever was on the other side before pulling it open. The two entered the room, looking around before their eyes fell on the cryostasis chamber. It was similar to the one Bucky had been placed in with Hydra. It was all steel with a small window and through the window, Bucky could see the face of the woman from his dreams looking like she was sleeping but ice covered her face and hair, “She’s here.” Bucky said softly. She was older, different from the teenager he saw in his dreams.

Sam came up beside Bucky to look inside at the woman, “So she’s been frozen here since 2014 and nobody has known?” Bucky looks at Sam and nods, “Yeah. Seems like she was an even more well-kept secret than the Winter Soldier was.” He said before backing away and going to the control panel. He hit the edge of it with his hand until the screen flickered on, pressing all the correct buttons to release the woman from the cryostasis chamber. They watched the ice around her slowly melt before the door popped open slightly. Bucky moved to open the door, catching the woman’s body in his arms and gently laid her down on the floor. Both Sam and Bucky kneeled down beside her, waiting for her to wake up.

The woman’s eyes blinked open after a moment, her eyes scanning the ceiling first before looking at Sam with a confused look. Then her eyes laid on Bucky. Her hands quickly came up and her palms touched either side of his face, her eyes turning white as she touched him before she drops her hands and closed her eyes again, passing out.

Sam watched the ordeal with wide eyes, “What did she just do? Buck?” He asks, backing away a little from the now unconscious woman.

Bucky breathed deeply, looking at the unconscious woman before back to Sam, “She showed me a past memory I didn’t know I had. It was her telling me everything was going to be okay before Pierce had my memory wiped again. Telling me that you and Steve would help me.” He said, partly confused. Why didn’t he remember that until she touched him?

Sam’s eyes flickered between the two confused, “As much as I would like to know the whole story right now, we should probably get out of here. This building is condemned and I don’t think the government would be happy with us poking around an old Hydra base.”

Bucky nodded in agreement and gently lifted the woman in his arms, following Sam out to the car and gently laying her in the backseat before they headed back to the safety of Louisiana. The two had a conversation as to whether it was safe to bring her back to Sam’s home but Bucky told him that he felt as though they could trust her. She had helped him before so why would she be hostile towards him now. The whole car ride, Bucky and Sam kept checking the backseat to make sure she was still asleep which she was. She hadn’t moved an inch. When they got back to Sam’s, Bucky gently lifted her from the backseat again and into the house, laying her on the couch before sitting on the coffee table waiting for her to wake up.

Sam and Sarah were having a conversation in the kitchen about how Sam always managed to pick up strays but Sarah was a good host and a kind heart. She started cooking up some dinner when Sam told her the mystery woman had been frozen since 2014, figuring she would probably be hungry when she woke up.

Bucky looked up from the floor when he noticed the woman’s fingers twitch, her brow furrowing slightly before her eyes opened slowly, no longer white and back to their original color. She did the same thing as when she woke up from the cryostasis chamber, looking at the ceiling before looking over at Bucky. She slowly sat up, rubbing her hand along the side of her head as if she had a headache, “You found me…” She breathed out.

Bucky nodded, watching her closely. Sam and Sarah had gone outside with AJ and Cass when she started to stir awake just for safety in case they were met with hostility from her. He watched her sit up before passing her a glass of water, “You have a name?”

The woman took the water, drinking the full glass before passing it back to him and meeting his gaze, “Y/N.” She told him.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her, trying to recognize any piece of her but couldn’t besides what was in his dreams, “Why did I have to find you and why don’t I remember you?” He questioned sternly, still unsure of Y/N.

Y/N kept her eyes on his, her hands gripping the edge of the couch, “You promised you would find me.” She responded in a soft voice, “It was safer for the both of us if you didn’t remember me until the time came where you were at peace.”

“How did you make it so I didn’t remember you?” Bucky questioned, wanting answers for the months he had been having the dreams of the hallway and her whispers.

“I’m a psychic… At least that’s what Hydra liked to call me. They used me to see the future of your missions as the Winter Soldier, making sure they would be successful. They used me to help create Project Insight.” Y/N responded with an even voice, “What they didn’t know is I could show you your past after you were brainwashed. Leaving little notes in there in hopes you’d remember who you were one day, able to escape Hydra. I saw your future after they sent you to eliminate Captain America and the redhead. I knew you’d remember your friend and from there you’d be able to become free.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly, “You can see the future and the past?”

Y/N nodded slowly, “Only if I touch you. There were times where they wouldn’t freeze you and had you protect me in the facilities. They were worried someone would take me for their own gain within Hydra. Those moments we had alone I would touch you and help you remember who you were before you became the Winter Soldier. We were friends, believe it or not.” She told him, “I can show you if you’d like.”

Bucky nodded after a moment. The only way he could believe her was to see for himself.

At the nod, Y/N shifted forward slightly on the couch towards him. She slowly lifted both of her hands and placed them on his cheeks, her eyes turning white as she started to show him memories she had sealed away in his mind.

Everybody was speaking Russian in the memory. There was a tall man who was barking orders at Y/N to search Bucky’s future as the Winter Soldier.

“I will! I can’t concentrate with you watching me. Give me some privacy.” Y/N snapped back in Russian at them. She wasn’t thirteen in this memory but older, maybe around twenty one. Once the guards had left her alone with the Winter Soldier, she turned towards him. He was staring at her with emotionless, cold eyes. Y/N bit her lip and lifts her hands to touch his face but paused for a moment, “I’m sorry they’re doing this to you, Bucky.” She whispered to him in english which earned a head tilt of confusion from the Winter Soldier, “Right… You don’t remember me… Here.” She said and presses her hands to his cheeks, her eyes turning white as she flooded his brain with memories of his past self.

The Winter Soldier’s gaze softened as he saw the memories and when she pulled her hands away, he lifted one hand to catch hers, “Y/N…” He whispered out to her in english.

Y/N smiled slightly and nodded, “Hello again, Bucky.” She said softly to him.

Bucky leans his head back and closes his eyes, “Where are they sending me now?” He asks, his voice cracking as the memories of all he’s done as the Winter Soldier flooded his mind but also grateful that he could remember who he was. James Buchanan Barnes.

Y/N bit her lip softly, “I’m not sure… They’re sending you to retrieve some super soldier serum I think.” She gently stroked her thumb over the back of his flesh hand.

Bucky looked at her with wide eyes, shaking his head, “No… We can’t let them do that. There can’t be more like me.” He told her, gripping her hand tighter in his.

Y/N sighs softly, “I know. I’ve already seen the future of it. It’ll be okay… There won’t be more Winter Soldiers that make it to the light of day but you have to complete this mission. It’s part of the path to get you away from Hydra.”

Bucky scanned over her face with sad eyes, “What about you? You need to get away too…”

Y/N smiled sadly at him, “My time won’t come for a long time, Bucky. But you’ll find me one day when everything is as it should be.”

“No.. We should just get out of here now… I can protect you.” Bucky said, leaning closer to her and staring into her eyes. She was his saving grace, the only kind person he had known since he had been taken by Hydra. The angel on his shoulder that kept him from falling into complete oblivion in his mind. She always brought back his memory whenever they were alone and he was beyond grateful to have her with him.

Y/N shook her head at him, “I can’t. There’s things in the future that are still a little fuzzy… depending on what path certain people decide to go down.” She told him, “One day you’ll get me out of here. But first we have to focus on making sure I keep you going down the right path towards your peace.”

Y/N pulled her hands away from Bucky’s face, making the memory fade away from their minds. She watched Bucky closely for his reaction, biting her bottom lip.

Bucky breathed deeply as the memory flooded his mind. It was like it had just been unlocked and he knew every movement he had made as well as Y/N, all the feelings he felt. He looked at her slowly, “Y/N.” He said, “You would bring me back to myself, help me. Then you’d lock the memories away so they wouldn’t catch on… I remember you.”

Y/N nodded towards him with a small smile, “Yeah… I would show you everything but it may overload your brain giving you back all those memories at once.” She told him, “But I can keep showing you little bits.” Bucky nodded instantly toward her, grabbing her hands and placing them on his cheeks, “Please… I need to see… Remember you.” He whispered out to her in a pleading voice.

Y/N smiles at him before her eyes turned white, showing him another memory.

“I killed them…” Bucky whispers out to Y/N as they sat alone in a room. It was December 18th, 1991.

Y/N gave him a sad smile, lifting a hand to stroke along his cheek gently, “I’m sorry, Bucky… It wasn’t you. You didn’t have a choice.” It was the same thing she told him every time he came back from a mission and restored his memories.

Bucky shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes, “I don’t know how much more I can take, Y/N… I don’t want to be this person anymore…”

Y/N bit her lip, keeping her hand on his cheek and gently stroking the tears that fell from his face, “I know… It’s not too much longer. Everything is getting clearer and you’ll have your peace soon. You’ll be Bucky again.”

Bucky looked at her, leaning forward and grabbing her free hand that wasn’t on his cheek, “You promise?”

Y/N nodded towards him with a small encouraging smile, “I promise. Your story as the Winter Soldier will come to an end. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I know…” Bucky breathed out, looking down from her eye contact before looking back up to meet her eye line, “Y/N, you’re…. I don’t know how I could get through this without you… You always bring me back, remind me this isn’t my fault." Y/N sighs softly, “Because it isn’t your fault, Bucky. There is no blood on your hands. Only the hands of Hydra and what they make you do as the Winter Soldier.” She reminded.

Bucky nods slowly, squeezing her hand in his, “You know… Under different circumstances where we both weren’t prisoners and forced to do awful things… I think we would’ve been good friends.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at him slightly, “I think we are already best friends, Bucky.” She told him with a small smile, “We are the only friends each other has right now.”

Bucky smiles slightly at her before dropping his gaze again, “I want to ask you something, Y/N…” He began, “You can say no if you want…”

Y/N raises an eyebrow at him, “Ask away, Bucky.”

Bucky stayed silent for a moment before looking up to meet her eyes, staring at them intently. They were eyes he had learned to love, they were his life line in moments like this, “It’s been god knows how long since I’ve felt some sort of comfort… some sort of… love.” He said, watching her closely for any reaction, “Will you…”

“Kiss you?” Y/N asks, which Bucky looked at her a little shocked before remembering she can see the future. She stood from her chair she was seated in, moving closer slowly and leans forward, keeping her eyes on his before pressing her lips gently to his, her hand gently stroking his cheek while her other stayed in his hand.

Bucky moved his free hand up to behind her neck, pulling her closer and kissing her again before pulling away and scanning his eyes over her features as he didn’t want to forget this moment or her face. His eyes suddenly saddened as he heard someone coming from outside the room, “Someone’s coming, doll… You have to make me forget…”

Y/N smiled gently and strokes her fingers along his face, “It’s okay, Bucky. You’ll remember one day…” She said before her eyes turned white and she locked away the memories of him as Bucky and returned him to the Winter Soldier.

Bucky looked at her as the memory ended, tears stinging his blue eyes as they formed. He stood up, running his hand through his dark hair before looking back to her where she was sitting and watching him closely, “I…” He started but couldn’t finish. He moved to sit beside her, “Show me the last memory of you.”

Y/N nodded and once again placed her hands on his face, her eyes fading to white again.

Bucky was in the Ideal Federal Savings Bank. Glimpses of his past being found by Zola after he fell from the train… the metal arm that replaced his one left arm seared through his memory. He sat there as one of the scientist restored his arm before he punched him away, frustrated at the memories that were returning. He stayed seated in the machine used to put him through his mind treatments, strip away his memory. He looked up when Alexander Pierce came in, taking a seat on a stool next to him.

“Mission Report.” Pierce demanded.

Bucky sat there, staring blankly ahead as Pierce repeated the demand before backhanding him across the face. Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusing a little as he turned to look at Pierce, “The man on the bridge… Who was he?”

Pierce stared at Bucky, “You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

Bucky looked away from Pierce as he tried to piece together what happened, “I knew him.” He said softly, his eyes wondering over to meet Y/N’s for a moment who was looking at him with her head tilted as she listened before his gaze returned to Pierce.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind.” Pierce told him, “You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. And tomorrow morning we’re gonna give it a push. But if you can’t do your part, I can’t do mine.” He paused, watching Bucky look away in confusion, “And Hydra can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

Bucky tilts his head and looks back towards Pierce, “But I knew him.” He repeated, his lips pressing together in a line at the pain of trying to put his reality together- his memories together.

Pierce sighs before standing, “Prep him.”

One of the scientist look at Pierce, “He’s been out of Cyro too long…” Pierce looked back at Bucky who was staring off sadly, “Then wipe him and start over.” He told the scientist before turning his attention to Y/N, “You do your thing first.”

Y/N stepped forward, looking at Bucky then to Pierce, “I’ll need the room. There’s too much going on in here… I’ll get confused.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes at her then nodded, “Give her the room.” He said, walking out of the vault followed by everybody else in the room.

Y/N went to sit on the stool beside Bucky, watching him look at her sadly, “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” She told him but he stayed silent. She slowly placed her hands on his face, her eyes going white as she restored his memories of the past, “Don’t talk..” She whispers only audible enough for Bucky to hear her, “The time has come, Bucky… They’re going to wipe your memory one last time… You’ll be okay, I promise… This is the beginning of the end for the Winter Soldier and Hydra… I’m going to seal your memories of me until the right time… then find me, okay?”

Bucky watched her carefully, listening to every word she said. He blinked at her slowly to tell her he understood, trying to contain his emotions in this moment.

Y/N smiled slightly at him, “Don’t worry… I’ll be okay.” She whispers to him, “We’ll see each other again someday and I’ll show you everything you’ve forgotten about us.”

Bucky moved his metal hand ever so slightly to touch her thigh and squeezed it gently with a saddened look in his eyes, being careful as to not let the guards outside the open door see. He had so much he wanted to say to her: Thank you… I’ll save you… I’ll find you… I think I love you. But he couldn’t say those things.

Y/N gave him a knowing smile before it faded away, her eyes going white as she sealed the memories of herself with him deep inside his mind until the right time came for him to find her. She then searched his future for what was going to happen next, seeing him fight Captain America but recognizing him at the last moment and saving him from the river. Bucky was going to be okay. He would be himself again one day, not the Winter Soldier and then he would find her when he found his peace. She stood up and stepped away from him, looking at the Winter Soldier who still had those sad eyes. Y/N turns to Pierce as he came back in, “Everything will go according to plan.” She lied, “Project Insight will be successful.”

Pierce nodded then motioned for one of the guards to take her back to Cyro, freeze her until she was needed again. She took one last look at Bucky as they put the mouthguard in his mouth before starting the memory wipe, listening to him scream through the mouthpiece until she couldn’t hear him anymore and was thrown into the cryostasis chamber where she would wait to be saved by him.

As the memory faded, Bucky looked at her, reaching up his own hand to touch her cheek. He remembered all the feelings he had for her. He was grateful, thankful for her always bringing him back. Assuring him everything would be okay and that he would have peace in the future. His blue eyes scanned over her features, taking in the face that he had forgotten. The face that saved him. She was like an angel that had always been perched on his shoulder, watching over him, “Thank you… For everything you did for me.” He told her softly, “I’m sorry it took so long for me to find you, to save you.”

Y/N smiles slightly, “Don’t worry about it. I knew exactly what was going to happen. I’m glad you’ve found your peace, Bucky.” She said softly.

“Why didn’t you let me come find you before now?” He asks softly.

“I couldn’t. I saw everything that was going to happen to you. Zemo… Thanos… The Flag Smashers..” She whispers, “If I was around for that, I would’ve just been used as another pawn for them to get their way. You couldn’t find me until there was peace.”

Bucky nods slowly, keeping his hand on her cheek, “There were things I didn’t tell you, that I couldn’t tell you the last time we saw each other.” He told her, “All our time together… All the times you reminded me who I was and saved me… I think I fell in love with you.”

Y/N smiles slightly, reaching a hand up to place it on top of his on her cheek, “I knew all of that too, Bucky. You didn’t need to say it. I knew from the way you kissed me that one time. The way you looked at me the last time we were together.”

“I would like to do that again… Now that you don’t have to make me forget.” Bucky says to her, leaning towards her slightly, “All those things I felt for you… I still do. I just needed to remember.”

Y/N nods towards him, “I still feel all those things for you too.” She whispers out as she watched him lean closer and closer to her, her eyes locked on his, “We have a very bright future together, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky smiles at her, “You would know, doll.” He whispers before pressing his lips gently to her’s, smiling against her lips as she kissed him back. He moved his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer to his while his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. Bucky had waited for this moment most of his long life and hadn’t even realized it until he found her again.

___________________________________________________________

Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @stcrryslibrary @bibliophilewednesday @redhairedfeistynerd

[rushmanatalie]

falling like the stars || ch. 3

Rating: E

Summary:  Natasha remains haunted by demons from her past, but Steve is there to remind her that she’s not alone.

Notes:  So it’s been *checks watch* a LONG time since my last update, but hopefully the slight fluff, smut, and angst make up for it? Once again, thanks for reading. Feel free to leave comments on things you want to see in the future :)

Read on Ao3

Tchaikovsky plays softly through her headphones. A simple four four count, soft violins, and a touch of piano. Her feet sting with blisters underneath the satin shoes, her muscles aching with every leap and turn, but she loves every second of this. 

If Natasha ever truly had a permanent home in her life, it would be here: somewhere between the music and the movement, where agony meets beauty and art is made in the blood shed when she steps over that edge.

The music ends as softly as it began and she chases her fatigue with a swig of rum, relishing the burn as she’s learned to accept all forms of pain. 

She’s used to it by now: all the hurt in her life, and she has the Red Room to thank for that. They taught her to think that it was all she could ever have, that it was all she was worth. So when she had finally found her family, when she had found Steve, that warmth, acceptance, and dare she say, love, felt completely foreign.

Undeserved.

The road to redemption isn’t easy. Every time she takes a step forward, it’s as if there’s a force pushing her back, and rarely does she find herself winning the battle.

Natasha catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and takes another swift sip of alcohol before throwing the flask aside. Pulling the headphones that hung around her neck over her ears, she allows the music to swallow her thoughts, her eyes fluttering shut as she gets a little more lost in the melody of the strings. When she opens her eyes, her body follows in movement with a perfect, practiced fluidity.

“Again!” Madame B shouts from the corner of the room. 

One of twenty-eight young ballerinas with the Bolshoi—

The memory comes so suddenly, Natasha falters on her turn.

“Again!” A gun goes off. The gun in her hand, smoking as she points it at a target. 

The training is hard—

Head pounding, heart racing, her legs nearly give out beneath her.

“Again!” She holds a knife to the throat of the girl who sleeps beside her. She’ll make her death quick, but it wouldn’t be painless. The blade runs against her neck with an awfully guttural scream. 

But the glory of the soviet culture—

Her fist smashes into the mirror. When her hand comes away from the glass, it’s slick with blood as broken shards cut into her skin. She pulls a piece of glass out from between her knuckles and watches the redness flow down her wrist. 

The glory of the soviet supremacy—

The sound of her heart hammering behind her ribcage fills her ears until the thumping is so loud it hurts. She’s suddenly aware of the way she struggles for every breath, gasping for air. Everything blurs, and before she can catch herself, she’s falling to the floor. Natasha barely registers the front door opening before her vision goes black. The last thing she hears before she finally drifts is Rhodey shouting her name.

—————————

The drive home seemed longer than the forty minutes it took, but Steve manages to get back to the Avengers facility with his motorcycle in one piece. 

Three years ago, Steve never called the place home. He still doesn’t, not the way Natasha does, and sometimes it pains him that this is it for her. 

He finds her in her room, or what’s become their room. Rhodey stands by the door, his back against the wall as he rests a concerned glance at Natasha, who lies curled up on the bed, asleep. Steve quickly notices the bandages wrapped around her right hand, blood seeping through the gauze around her knuckles.

He turns to Rhodey, careful to keep his voice down. “What happened?”

Rhodey shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I was coming by to drop something off and I found her in the studio. She just...collapsed. Think she hit the mirror.” He sighs, crossing his arms and shifting his weight. “I’ve seen Tony go through similar episodes—PTSD, anxiety, addiction—I’m worried about her, Steve. Thanos hurt everyone, but Nat…”

“I know.” The words left unsaid hung heavily in the air.

Ever since the Battle of New York, the Avengers had become Natasha’s family. She never admitted it out loud, but Steve could see how content she was around them: the way her shoulders would soften, her walls seemingly down. And when the Sokovia accords had broken the team, she had watched it fall apart and tried desperately to put the pieces back together.

Until Thanos ripped away everything that remained.

Maybe that’s why even now she clings to the job, to the work. It’s all she has left.

“I can stay to keep an eye on her tonight.” Rhodey offers softly. The suggestion almost comes as a surprise to Steve, and he’s suddenly reminded of the fact that no one knows. No one knows about them.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s okay, I’ll stay. Thanks Rhodey.”

Rhodey shoots him a somewhat knowing look, a sad smile on his lips. Before he leaves, he puts a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You take care, Steve.” Take care of her.

Rhodey’s footsteps are still echoing down the hall when Steve turns his attention to Natasha. Her fiery red hair is splayed over the white pillows in soft waves, a few tendrils falling over and framing her fame. His old, worn cotton tee almost swallows her small frame, but it’s one of his favorite looks on her. As he walks to her side, he can’t help but notice how peaceful she looks like this, caught in a dreamless sleep, her chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. It’s almost out of a force of habit that he pulls the comforter over her shoulder, gently enough to not wake her, but her light hum of satisfaction lets him know she knows he’s there. 

They’ve been like this for two years now. Whatever this is. For Steve, it’s hard not to want to define it. After all, he came from an age where people were quick to “go steady” and eager to settle down. And for a while, he had wanted that with Peggy.

But that was before.

Before the war.

Before what seemed like the end of the world.

Before Natasha.

With the ice, HYDRA, and Thanos, Steve hasn’t much luck with love, but he’s had enough experience to realize that whatever this is between himself and Natasha, it might be the closest thing to love he’s ever had. Their bond, connection, relationship? It goes beyond romantic love or lust. To him, she’s a partner: the one person whose loyalty never falters, who’s always there, and perhaps the only constant left in his life, and he clings onto it with all of his stubbornness, all of his hope. And despite everything they’ve been through, everything he’s been through, sometimes he catches himself wondering if it was all fate’s cruel way of bringing them together.

“Steve?” Natasha’s green eyes flutter open in a haze of sleep. 

“Hey.” He kneels down next to the bed, pulls her bandaged hand to his lips, and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I’m here.”

“Where’s Rhodey?” 

Steve almost smiles because it’s so damn her to worry about other people first. “He went home.” There’s a small beat as they both avoid the topic of what happened before.

“What time is it?” Her brows furrow with the question.

“Six. You hungry?”

She shakes her head. 

“Okay. I’ll spare you the tragedy of me cooking dinner, then.” He’s aware that it’s a half-assed remark on his own culinary skills, but it wins him a smile.

“Come to bed?” It isn’t so much of a question as it is a request, a plea, and he obliges, kicking his shoes off before climbing under the covers next to her.

Natasha tucks herself into Steve’s chest and he brushes his nose against the crown of her hair. The lavender scent of her shampoo has become unknowingly familiar over the years and he finds it somewhat soothing now. He traces a finger down a strand of hair, caressing her jawline. They lay in the peace and comfort of each other's breaths for a moment, relishing in the warmth until he breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

There’s a second of deliberation, but she responds nevertheless, a soft breath against his chest. “Me too.” 

“Don’t be.” Steve tips her chin up to meet her eyes and it’s all there: years of pain and fear, hundreds of unanswered questions, a million unnecessary apologies, welling up in tears that threaten to fall. He knows she’s not ready to put it in words, not yet, but he knows he’ll be there to listen when she does.

For now, that’s enough.

And all he can do is kiss her. At first, it’s sweet, slow, delicate, his lips barely ghosting over hers. But the contact is apparently exactly what she needs because the next thing he knows, her lips are crashing into his and it’s messy, all teeth and tongue, but he lets her take and take and take.

With a single push on his shoulders, she flips them around so that he’s pinned to the bed while she straddles his growing hardness between her legs, not bothering to suppress a heady moan at the much needed friction. Her hands are deft, desperate, as she reaches down to undo his jeans, but before she can pull out his length, he grabs her by the wrist to stop her.

“Natasha.” They’re going too fast. He usually wants to take his time with her, only she has other plans in mind. 

Gently peeling his hand from her wrist, she guides his fingers down to the ache between her thighs. His throat catches when he feels her wetness through the thin fabric of her underwear. “I just need you inside me.” She leans down to kiss his jawline. “Please.” Her voice is thick with wanting, so he lets her have him. All of him.

Her underwear comes off in a moment no longer than their lips leave eachothers’ for breath. This time he doesn’t stop her when she reaches for his length and slips it inside her heat with a lewd moan. She’s tighter than usual without the foreplay, but the way her face contorts in pleasure gives him confirmation that she enjoys the stretch. His hands move to her waist as she rides him, his hips rising to meet hers as she sets an unrelenting pace. It’s crude, the way their skin sounds against each other, the smell of sex in the room, but it just brings him closer and closer to the edge. He knows she’s nearly there too, so he drops a hand to her clit and watches as she comes apart seconds later, a string of Russian curses on her lips. His own release follows closely and she holds him tighter as he spills inside her.

They lay spent, still clothed, with her collapsed over him, face buried in the crook of his neck, for what seems like eternity. As their breaths even out, she rolls over to his side, pulling the blanket to her chest.

Just before Steve is about to drift off to sleep, he feels her lips murmur against his arm. 

“Today was Lila’s birthday.”

He opens his eyes. She’s staring off into the corner of the room, sadness lurking through the greens of her irises. 

“She would’ve been sixteen.” Natasha pauses at the thought, but he doesn’t speak. He just listens. “And I just can’t shake the thought of him being alone.”

A few months after Thanos took his family, Clint had gone off the map. No phone calls. No emails. Not a single word. They checked everything. Bank statements. Search histories. Print records. License numbers. But the only clues to his whereabouts were the brutally dismembered bodies he left in his trail.

Steve remembers the first time they found it: the connection between the massacres. All the victims had been gangs, mobs, and human trafficking organizations, the kind the Avengers would have taken down anyway, except the hooded katana-bearing vigilante didn’t seem to care about making a mess and showing no mercy.

Natasha drank herself to sleep that night.

It hurts him to see her like this, but he knows not to make promises. He can’t guarantee they’ll find Clint. Can’t guarantee if they’ll want to. So he says the one thing he knows is certain. 

“He’s never really alone. Not while we’re still here.”

The words linger in the air, and he watches her take it in as the lines between her brows unfurl.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “I guess no one ever really is.”

[mendelpalace]

The second release in the “Post-nuclear wave” HDK series is "Siberia No Senshi Z-1" (The Warriors of Siberia), the soundtrack of a post-apocalyptic movie (never) filmed in the endless Siberian steppes. A story of love, fighting, and motorcycling, in a harsh and ruthless world where a flame of humanity still survives. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The composition and execution of the soundtrack has been entrusted to the Russian ensemble AELITA which has produced twelve epic, romantic and desperate tracks that accompany the listener in the most important moments of the drama. The AELITA ensemble used vintage synthesizers from the Soviet electronic tradition, but involved also traditional singers from Republic of Tuva and a string quartet of students from local music school. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

PLOT:

[KAWASAKI NUCLEAR WINTER] In a future post-nuclear Middle Age, somewhere in the immense Siberian plains... The Steppe Cats are a Mōtābōru team (a sort of football played on armored motorbikes). They play in a clandestine league: the only official championship of Mōtābōru is played in the “Solar City” called Sanshiti, a walled urban centre where the Illuminated Queen rules, a transvestite who holds the “Secret of Drugs”. Mōtābōru players from the Solar City are rich and famous, those from the underground leagues are poor and deprived. Violence and corruption reign in Sanshiti league matches and players die young. Despite all this, all Mōtābōru players want to join the official league teams because they dream of wealth and celebrity even if for short; all players except Tuvan, the captain of the Steppe Cats, an experienced player who fled from a team of Sanshiti when he was very young. Now Tuvan lives in a miserable village in the steppe and plays in the clandestine league of Mōtābōru, full of violence and despair but also where there are feelings of brotherhood and respect for rivals' life. Being a Mōtābōru champion means popularity also in the wild lands: the teams fight to raise their Credits (the coat of arms of the rivals they have defeated). Credits are very precious because the more you have, the more you can aspire to play and gain a greater social respect: this means gasoline, food and other goods. The Steppe Cats are not among the most high-ranked teams, also because Tuvan is now Thirty, slightly lame and – people say – he has become too tender with opponents. [CATS OF THE STEPPE] Captain Tuvan (nobody knows his real name: he is called with the name of his land because he comes from the Tuva region, between Siberia and Mongolia), Monsuta (a fat, bald and toothless Japanese), Bibigul (a muscular lesbian from Kazakistan) are the Steppe Cats older members; Kara-Kat (a Tuvan girl with a thick dark hair), Tsubasa (a shrewd Korean) and Cardio (a junkie Siberian) are the youngest players of the team. Tuvan, Monsuta and Bibigul are close-knit; the youngest are the most restless and they show impatience towards the management of Captain Tuvan. Kara-Kat is a very promising runner and, as all young people, she eagerly dreams of playing in the official championship. Kara-Kat comes from Tuvan origins as Captain Tuvan, so he saved her life when she was very young and he was a talented and ruthless Mōtābōru player in Sanshiti. At that time Tuvan was a member of the Illuminated Queen's Imperial Team and also her lover. [KARA-KAT LAUGHS AND LOVES UNDER A POST-ATOMIC SKY] During the getaway from Sanshiti, Tuvan brought Kara-Kat with him and raised her like a little sister, teaching her to play Mōtābōru. Over the years, Kara-Kat and Tuvan, although bound by a deep and sincere affection, have developed a conflictual relationship: Kara-Kat, now a teenager, wants to decide for her life, but Tuvan can’t stand her dream of playing in the corrupted official league. [OUT IN THE WASTELANDS] One morning Kara-Kat disappears. Cardio says that he heard her talking about going to Sanshiti. She took her motorbike, gasoline, a lot of food and all the team's Credits. Tuvan is enraged and decides to put himself on the trail of Kara-Kat to recover the credits, but above all to protect the girl. The whole team - furious for the theft of Credits - follows Tuvan. [THE SHAMANS OF THE RADIOACTIVE RIVER] The Steppe Cats, however, remain without food and gasoline. To get them, they have to play a Mōtābōru match and win: but - with no credits and without a player - how can they do it? Tuvan contacts Dedushka, an old runner who retired to hermit life and decides to propose a challenge with a strong clandestine team, the Shamans of Radioactive River, led by Tuvan old friend, the Koriak shaman Golgoj. [DEATHMATCH IN THE GHOST KOMBINAT] Golgoj agrees to challenge the Steppe Cats, but in case of victory, as there are no credits to be won, he wants all the Kawasaki Z1 motorbikes of the team. A terrible risk for a team of Mōtābōru, though Tuvan decides to challenge the Shamans. Tsubasa and Cardio do not agree Tuvan's choice. Anyway, Tsubasa decides to be part of the team, but Cardio disappears without warning shortly before the match. The Cats must therefore play with one less man; the challenge seems hopeless... The match happens near a huge deserted industrial kombinat. Despite everything, the Steppe cats fight with determination and the score is still balanced. When, however, the situation seems to be inclined towards a Shaman victory, Golgoj, struck by Tuvan's motivation and Cats' heroism, eventually lets them win. He provides the team with petrol and food and gives his blessing to the mission. However, the Cats are now in a very bad shape. [THE RITUAL OVERDOSE OF AMANITA MUSCARIA] Golgoj offers his hospitality in the Shamans headquarters and gives the Siberian magic mushrooms to the Steppe Cats to get them back on track. They eat the mushrooms on a ritual night... [ICED BLOOD] The team finally resumes the journey. They find the traces of Cardio's motorbike not far away and they decide to follow them...but it's a trap! They fall into an ambush of the Imperial Guard. They discover that Cardio sold himself to the Illuminated Queen and dragged them into the trap... [SANSHITI NEON LIGHTS] The Steppe Cats are taken prisoners and led to Sanshiti. Tuvan is brought in front of the Illuminated Queen. She says that Kara-Kat now plays in the Imperial Team and shows her to Tuvan while she drives her motorbike but with a full-face helmet that makes her unrecognizable. The Queen asks Tuvan to join again the Imperial Team, so he can meet Kara-Kat and play to her side. He is doubtful and suspicious, but eventually accepts as long as his teammates will be released. Then the Queen let them go but it is a bluff: she is seeking vengeance on Tuvan for escaping from her years before. [UNNISH Z1-BERSERKRS] It is time for Tuvan to play his first official match in the Imperial Team, but it is a trap: he is lined up in the ranks of the opponents who will face the Imperial Team... the Steppe Cats! Tuvan finds out that his teammates have never been released by the Queen. And in addition, he has to face Kara-Kat (always masked with a full-face helmet) as an adversary! The match is brutal and desperate, Tuvan tries to avoid contact with Kara-Kat... he suspects that it is not really her... the Steppe Cats fight with courage, but in the end one by one fall under the deadly blows of the skilled and corrupted players of the Imperial Team. [TUVAN CUT-THROAT SINGING] Tuvan stands alone on the field with Kara-Kat; she is attacking him, but Tuvan doesn't want to defend himself because he doesn't want to kill her. He has a doubt about her identity... but he is not sure. Just before the last deadly impact with Kara-Kat motorbike, at the very last second, out of the corner of his eye, he sees her in the audience... the real Kara-Kat who desperatly tries to push him to react! But maybe it's too late... In the last moments, a stunning flashback: in a few frames, the story of what happened to Kara-Kat after her disappearance. She was kidnapped by the Imperial Guard with the complicity of Cardio and was moved to Sanshiti; then she escaped and became a beggar in the slums of Sanshiti. Cardio, after betraying Tuvan for drugs, was dumped by the Queen; he repents, finds Kara-Kat and tells her everything, including the fact that Steppe Cats will be involved in a deadly game against the Imperial Team. Kara-Kat tries to reach the arena and meet Tuvan... In the end she arrives... but is she still on time? End of the movie. [REQUIEM FOR A SIBERIAN SAMURAI]

[shatteredskies042]

Betrayal-Part Two

“Step forward,” Michael ordered. “I do not wish to shoot you.”

The bearded man stepped towards him, and Michael knew what was running through his head. He would have done the exact same. “Stop.” He ordered next, “turn around.”

Once the Agency operator did, a bit reluctantly, Michael drew the lead pipe from his pocket. He took aim, and hurled it at the back of the other American’s head. The sound of the impact was sickening, a dull thud and splat, and another as he toppled forward. Michael stepped forward, and made sure the operator was out, but alive. A check of his pulse and breathing revealed he was fine, and would wake up with one hell of a concussion. Dragging him behind the dumpsters, he sprinkled a pair of vodka bottles he had found around the trash bin. Michael lifted the wallet and passport from his pockets, and a nice SOG folding knife, then stole off into the Siberian night. Michael flagged down a taxi, and stated his destination was the docks.

He rifled through the wallet, a rather nice Coach leather wallet. His haul contained a passport, a fistful of rubles and euros, and a handful of gift cards to universal chains like Starbucks and McDonalds. Not a bad outcome. He had to use them fast, before the real owner woke up and reported his missing credentials to the Agency.

At his destination, Michael paid out the rubles to the taximan, withholding a tip and stepping back out to where his journey had started in earnest. There were gates and fences here, and he strode away from the single guard and camera watching the entry. He did not have to walk far, the razor wire crowned fence had several gaps, made by unsavory actors to access the docks. Following their footsteps, Michael slipped through the chainlink fence, lowering his aching body and stepping through the snow. He aimed for the largest building he saw, hoping it was an administration building. There were a few cameras visible in the low light, nothing he could not overcome. A backdoor was visible, guarded by a fixed camera. As he stalked towards the building, Michael ran through his options again.

He could simply force entry, let the camera see him, and get out before the police responded. Or, find a way to obscure the camera and make entry. He decided on the latter, eying a snow pile a distance away. Tracking over there, he picked up a fair bit of hardened white ice, and shuffled back towards his ingress point. He lifted the white chunk, and threw it at the camera. It made a satisfying crunch, and the camera dropped from its mount. While it wasn’t perfect, it was good enough for the soldier. He pushed up to the door, testing and jiggling the doorknob, finding it locked. He turned away, until he heard the snick of the lock.

Michael turned back, drawing his pistol from his waistband and charging the door, slamming it back into the face of the portly Russian guard. The guard fell and Michael came down on top of the man, putting him into a sleeper hold until his breathing slowed.

Dumping the guard in a nearby broom and shovel closet, Michael took his keyring and stalked through the building until he found the security office. He tried the keys until one unlocked the door, before he swept inside. The room was only lit by a bank of old CRT TVs, and he quickly went to work on manipulating the camera displays with the old, tan keyboard coated in food residue on the desk. He quickly acquired the dock where he had started his mission, and played back until the ship entered. Three trucks came off the ship, fitting the descriptions of the same trucks he had helped ambush, down to the bullet holes riddling the front windows. They drove through the port until they disappeared into a long row of cargo containers. Shortly thereafter, two of the containers were lifted onto the British flagged cargo ship MV Summer Lotus. Michael crossed the dim room to an old flat screen computer monitor, and did his best to dig up information on the cargo ship. It ran a route from his current location to Sweden, Denmark, then back into the UK. Even the three small nuclear weapons that had been stolen could still kill tens of millions in the tightly packed continent.

Michael decided to call it good enough. He had the next stop for his target, and knew what cargo container to look for. He had a fair bit of time before the ship made it to Sweden, so as he wiped his prints from the keyboards and made his escape, he formulated a plan: He needed to get to Germany, to access a safehouse that would have all the tools he needed to create a new identity. He would not get too far using a stolen CIA agent’s identity, not with the Agency looking for his head on a pike. He could also access the weapons and acquire some money to finish his mission, and then...

No, he could not think that far ahead. He was still on mission, and he had to stay that way. Even as the Russian cold bit into his exposed skin. He needed to change his clothes, he’d look odd hopping on a flight in arctic camouflage pants, and the dried blood caking his injuries went out of fashion decades ago. Hailing a late night cab, he told the cabbie to drive him to the airport. Michael relaxed in the uncomfortable backseat of the Soviet era car, closing his eyes for a blissful moment of respite. He lost track of time in that moment, the last time he had slept of his own accord was on the flight from Hereford to Russia. The only other rest he had gotten was from being passed out due to injuries. He woke when he heard a whistle from the cabbie, opening his eyes to look down the barrel of a small pistol. “Give me your wallet,” the driver demanded in Russian.

Sighing deeply, Michael raised his hands to show he meant no threat. He was upset at himself for letting his guard down, but he knew he could get out of the situation. He urged the man to relax, slowly reaching his right hand towards his back pocket, where most men carried a wallet. Instead, his hand went to the hidden grip of his handgun. Moving as fast as his injured body allowed, he snapped his body to the left and drove his left hand into the gun hand of the Russian. A sharp crack filled the cabin, but Michael had already pinned his hand and the small handgun he held to the door.

He aimed his own .45 above his bicep and leveled it at the head of the driver: “drop it,” he commanded in Russian. It took a moment for the man to relax and release the small pistol, but once he did, Michael ordered him to step out. The soldier slipped out behind the Russian, eyeing him up and holding him at gunpoint. “Strip, I am taking your clothes,” he stated.

The Russian replied furiously, refusing to let his dignity be stolen. However, the cold stare and the massive front end of the USP were shrewd negotiators that refused to take no for an answer. Michael told the Russian he was lucky to escape with his life. He threw the clothes on the hood of the car, before Michael ordered the man to start walking.

“Why? So you may shoot me in the back?” the cab driver asked.

Michael did not reply as he took the clothes, stepped down into the old car and backed away, quickly learning the poorly maintained vehicle’s quirks. The Soviets never really knew how to build things for the civilian sector, apart from infrastructure. He regained his bearings, and made his way to the small airport. The car constantly pulled towards the drivers’ side, and he had to fight it the whole way. No wonder they had lost the Cold War, not even the strength of the Russian people could carry such a poorly run regime. He ditched the car in the corner of a poorly lit, snow clogged parking lot, putting on the clothes of his previous enemy and abandoning his bloodstained ones. He was able to keep his base layers as they would not attract too much attention.

The terminal was decently lit and smelled of floor cleaner, a handful of the fluorescent rods flickering intermittently and drawing his eye. He looked around the small area quickly, then went to a bank of old computers to check on travel information. From the readerboard above the ticket counter he could see a handful of red eye flights would be taking off in the next hour to destinations throughout Russia. He decided on a flight to Saint Petersburg, then a connecting flight to Berlin. Hopefully his stolen passport would hold up until then, but he would not know until he came down in the German capital.

He pushed out of the uncomfortable felt over steel chair and strode to the counter, requesting a seat in expert Russian. For domestic flights he merely needed to flash his passport as identification, not that the clerk behind the counter paid much attention to the document. Receiving his ticket, he made his way towards the security checkpoint. A metal detector and security checkpoint laid dangerously undermanned between the unsecure terminal entrance and the supposedly secure boarding area. Without walking through a metal detector, being wanded, or even being given a cursory glance by security, Michael Haghn traveled into a secure zone with his handgun concealed in the small of his back. He found a spot on a row of plastic and cloth seats to wait for the Saint Petersburg flight to arrive. The Aeroflot flight landed ahead of schedule, which spoke to him about air currents in the dark skies above. He joined the almost dozen other passengers when the flight was called, striding down slippery metal stairs onto the tarmac. It was a similar sight to him, but typically he was not boarding a passenger jet with strangers.

The seats were far from comfortable, but the stewardesses allowed them to sit anywhere, so he took the emergency door seating. It gave him space to stretch out, able to adjust his pistol to sit more comfortably. He had a few hours in flight once their takeoff roll was complete.

[mst3kproject]

804: The Deadly Mantis

Dear Janet from Devil Fish: I'm sorry I called you the world's worst paleontologist.  That was mean and entirely undeserved – you are a much better paleontologist than Dr. Jackson from The Deadly Mantis.  You at least realize that sharks are a type of jawed fish, while Dr. Jackson seems to think they're a type of plant.  I would send you chocolates or something along with this apology, but you got strangled by a man with a concrete face.  Too bad the same thing cannot be said of Dr. Jackson.  Yours sincerely, the MST3K Project.

The Deadly Mantis begins with Newton's third law: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.  For example, if a volcano erupts in the South Atlantic, that'll cause vibrations in the Earth's crust, which in turn trigger iceberg calving at the north pole, thus allowing a giant mantis to thaw out after millions of years in the ice!  Clearly.  QED.

I guess I could describe what happens in the movie. I could tell you about the buildings and vehicles destroyed, and the scientists and military who try to solve this mantis problem, but I don't think there'd be any point.  The Deadly Mantis is another paint-by-numbers movie, kind of like The Mole People, where it feels like the producers made a list and checked stuff off.  Monster?  Check.  Hero?  Check.  Scientist? Check.  Girl?  Check.  The whole thing comes across as perfunctory and we never really care about what's going on.  The Deadly Mantis is almost entirely filler.

Despite that, I do kind of like this movie.  It's very bad, but it's not rage-inducing like some others I could name.  It's mildly racist in that everybody in it is white as WonderBread (except the Inuit in the footage borrowed from SOS Eisberg), but there's nothing explicitly offensive.  It takes the time to show us what's going on instead of just telling us, even though what's going on is dull.  And there are a number of little oddities that give The Deadly Mantis a surprising amount of personality.

For example, there's our first non-map sequence – seven minutes or so spent educating us about the network of RADAR that covered North America during the Cold War.  You see, the quickest way between the US and the USSR is over the north pole, so the airspace above Canada had to be carefully watched to make sure nobody was attacking anybody else.  The arrangement caused Canada considerable anxiety, but since nobody ever listened to my suggestion that we relocate to the Moon, we were stuck with it.  We just had to sit there and hope you guys would have the sense not to bomb each other, when we could have been eating Moon Poutine and watching moose try to deal with one sixth gravity.

This RADAR sequence doesn't feel like it's part of the movie.  It feels like an educational short film that might have turned up on MST3K in its own right.  Narratively, the purpose of this sequence is to tell us what our first batch of mantis fodder is doing staring at RADAR screens way up in the arctic, but I don't know why they couldn't have established that with some dialogue or a sequence in which the mantis is mistaken for an incoming Soviet bomber before vanishing off the screen or something.  The only answer I can come up with is that the military gave them some money for the movie, on condition that they include a bit about how awesome these RADAR fences are.  That would make the sequence the Rocket Attack USA of product placement.

Then there's the rest of Act I, which tries to create a sense of mystery.  Other monster movies have done this.  The Beginning of the End has the town of Ludlow destroyed, with nary a clue by what.  Monster on the Campus tells us that something terrible has happened to Dr. Blake, but although we can guess what it is we must wait to find out exactly.  Godzilla, King of the Monsters begins with the sinking of a ship, and then the same fate befalling the second vessel sent to investigate.  You know what these movies have in common?  They're not called The Giant Locust Invasion, Ape-Man on the Campus, or Godzilla, Giant Fire-Breathing Dinosaur.  In The Deadly Mantis we already know what the monster is, because it's the damn title!

Movies where we already know what the monster is can still create suspense.  In the opening of Jaws we know the shark is creeping up on the swimmer, and it is the anticipation of the attack that makes the suspense.  In Alien we have no idea what the creature is capable of.  Hell, in The Amazing Colossal Man the suspense comes from wondering what Glenn's despair will drive him to do and whether the scientists will be in time to save him.  The Deadly Mantis, with its POV shots and footprints in the snow, behaves as if we're supposed to be wondering what on Earth is causing this chaos, even though we already saw the words The Deadly Mantis over an image of said insect frozen in ice!  As a result, the first half of the movie, before the mantis actually appears to attack the arctic base, feels like we're dawdling around waiting for the characters to catch up with us.

Another oddity is the character of Marge, who acts like she's supposed to be a hardboiled reporter despite the fact that she works for a monthly museum magazine.  Everybody probably gets a copy when they pay admission, and I bet most of them find it in their bag a few days later and just throw it away.  As a result, Marge comes across as slightly deluded, as if she once aspired to write for a major newspaper but this was the only media job she could get, so now she's trying to make it as much like her dream career as she can.

There's the weird bit about how there are no women at the arctic RADAR bases.  This is supposed to be funny but ends up making us worry that the stammering, socially inept corporal will do something like stuff and mount Marge's skin and charge the other guys a buck each to view her.  I think she agrees to dance with him in the hope that he'll be satisfied with that and spend the night jerking off in his room instead of lurking outside her window. I don’t remember if the movie gives him a name.  I think of him as Corporal Gein.

And of course there's Dr. Nedrick Jackson, the movie's supposedly brilliant scientist who cannot tell his own ass from a hole in the ground, or an ant from a beetle.  Let's take a look at some of his statements.

('Nedrick' is apparently a real name.  The closest thing I can find to a famous bearer of it is Nedrick Young, the real name of screenwriter Nathan E. Douglas.  He wrote The Defiant Ones and Jailhouse Rock.  I'm gonna assume he changed his name because people reacted to it the same way Mike and the bots react to Dr. Jackson: “Nedrick?!”)

While examining the Mantis claw, he says it appears to be made of 'gristle or cartilage' rather than bone.  First of all, 'gristle' and 'cartilage' are the same thing.  Second, an insect's exoskeleton is not made of cartilage, it's made of chitin, which is a totally different protein.  This is hardly specialized knowledge – I remember learning it in high school biology.

Then he announces that the claw can't be from an animal, 'because every known species of animal has a bony skeleton'.  Never mind that he just identified the claw as cartilage, which is only found in animals.  Never mind that animals with skeletons have cartilaginous parts, like the cartilage in your knee that allows the joint to move freely without bone scraping over bone, or the cartilage that gives your nose and ears their shape.  And never mind that he goes on to list things without skeletons as including 'worms, snails, insects, gillfish'... all of which are clearly animals. The fact that he feels a need to mention that birds and reptiles have bony skeletons suggests that he's using the word 'animal' to mean 'mammal', which is a thing laypeople sometimes do, but a scientist would not.

'The ant inside this amber is at least ninety million years old', he says, showing us a stag beetle encased in acrylic, like those keychains you can buy at the Museum of Natural History. I used to have a computer mouse like that, with a little scorpion in it. It lit up. I wonder what I did with it.

The female praying mantis, he tells us, 'invariably destroys her mate after he has fulfilled his function in life'.  This does happen, but we don't know how often.  It seems to be something the female does when she is under undue stress, and having humans or cameras hovering there watching tends to stress her.  Like Schroedinger's Cat, the male mantis is both eaten and un-eaten until somebody looks... and then he generally gets eaten.

'A geological world [in which] the smallest insects were the size of man!'  No they weren't!  In the Carboniferous there were indeed giant insects, but that two-foot dragonfly was about as big as they got. Anyway, the oldest-known fossil mantis is only about a hundred and forty-five million years old, while the giant dragonfly, Meganeura, is over twice that old.  Meganeura was able to grow that big because there was far more oxygen in the Carboniferous atmosphere.  Mantises, which evolved in the Jurassic, have never been much bigger than they are now.

'The deerfly goes six hundred [miles] per hour'.  The deerfly is indeed among the fastest insects, able to reach a top speed of ninety miles per hour.  Also, fuck you, Dr. Jackson, you have no idea what you're talking about.

Maybe that's why I like this movie – it makes such absurd assertions with such a straight face.  Maybe it's because the actual mantis puppet is really pretty cool.  Or maybe I'm just fondly remembering the MST3K episode, which includes space country radio and such timeless gems as tell the Eskimos I deeply respect their culture but they're also very delicious and of course the immortal but I've got a mantis in my pantis!

[delightfullydismal]

Travis Touchdown x Holly Summers

     An old man looked out the sandy shores of Santa Destroy. Just yesterday it had been clean, without a soda can or burger wrapper to tarnish its porcelain sand. Now, all he could see was barbwire fencing and giant metal stars. He didn't have a name for them, but he recalled seeing the same ones in "Saving Private Ryan" as they stormed the beaches on D-Day. He thought they looked like oversized children's jacks.      "Those damn assassins and their pitiful games," He shook his heads, "Just a bunch of millennials that need to grow up and get real jobs." Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a group of heavily armed men. Men armored like a S.W.A.T. unit, but with black camo print. <Bunch of nancy boys> the old man thought. It didn't matter what loon they sent to fight these goons, the goons always got their limbs sliced off and ended up bleeding all over the damn place.

     "Bravo team in position, awaiting the signal from Mother Goose." He heard one of them speak into his earpiece.      "Hey!" the old man called out. One of the S.W.A.T. members turned his head up to the boardwalk. "Yes, you. You know he's gonna fucking gut your sorry ass. Probably bleed enough out of you to turn the damn ocean red. How much are they paying you for this shit? It can't possibly be enough sonny boy."      The military man may have found time to reply with some sort of quip, had Travis' beam katana not just cleaved the poor goon's head from his shoulders. A fountain of blood then erupted from his neck. Travis held his stance; He was not the least bit sick of bathing in blood. The other S.W.A.T. members charged at him like a stampede of bulls blindly charging at the sight of a Matador's cape. With a flurry of slashes Travis mowed down the onslaught of goons. More S.W.A.T. came with their guns drawn. and ready; They too were cut down. As Travis shook the blood from his beam katana, a voice chided him from above.      "Damn nancy boy, get off my beach!" The old man continued to shout from the pier, now that the killing had momentarily ended. "This ain't a damn theme park for sociopaths! Take you're homicidal rage and silly dick waving somewhere else!"      "Dick waving?" Travis Touchdown said sarcastically, not the least bit phased by the old man's scolding. "Old Man, a true killer doesn't carry a sword to flaunt what he has. Its about what he takes." Travis kicked the sand off his shoe with the tip of his katana, and then pointed the blade menacingly at the old man. "And right about now, I'd say I'm a second away from taking that blathering head off of your scrawny little neck!"      "So you do have a tiny pecker! Knew it!" The old man shouted back.      "Wha-" Travis said as he began waving his hands in distress. He had just realized that his blonde accomplice and perpetual antagonizer, Sylvia, was making her way up the beach to him. Given the playful smirk her luscious pink lips were making, she had obviously overheard the old man's ravings. "You've got it all wrong!" Travis pleaded.      "You've got a tiny pecker, sure as dirt! I've seen your type. You wear them 'animu' shirts with the slutty cartoon girls on them cuz all you want to do is play with some cartoon girls' boobies. Get a real job ya bum!" The old man finished mocking Travis and went on his merry way.      "Oh, poor Travis. Did the old man not like you leaving a mess on his beach? I think he shouldn't be saying such awful things about your "little private". I'm sure he's very cute and adorable." Sylvia began to coo over Travis' package, going so far as to assertively cup his pants. Travis quickly put several feet between himself and Sylvia, pushing her hand aside in the process.      "I don't have time for games, I came here to win. So the target, who is she?"      Sylvia ignored Travis, pulling out her compact mirror to freshen up her face. Travis tapped his foot, growing tired of being led along like a mutt on a leash. Sylvia made sure her eyelashes were seductively long and black before looking up at Travis and addressing the question she had been given.      "The association does not share that info Travis. Not for the Sixth Ranked Assassin, at least." Sylvia replied.      "And why is that?" Travis continued, visibly annoyed.      "She pays good money. Loose lips sink ships. All that bullshit." Sylvia gave up trying to explain the finer points of her job to Travis as she heard him give a long sigh. "Look, Mister Hot Shit: Did you come here to mingle? Take a walk on the beach? See the big blue ocean with those wide puppy dog eyes?" Travis shook his head. "I did not think so." Sylvia added, her tone a bit softer. "Your target is just ahead, at the northernmost side of the beach. I suggest you bring a change of pants, no?"      "Won't need them." Travis said as he lifted his beam katana. "Tell the clean up crew to get ready. This ones going to be messy."

     "UAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH" The last of the goons fell to his knees. He resembled more of a heap of blood and guts now than living person. Travis tread lightly, making sure not to step over any of the damn mines that had littered the beach. He didn't need to walk far though, he could already see his target.      "Do you know," The short haired woman before him began before turning to face him,"what it is like to feel true fear."      Travis looked her up and down. Her shorts and camo top were both cut deliciously low. A shame about the tits though, at best they were B Cups, and that was being generous. Still, he'd give her an 7 out of 10. An 8 maybe he thought as he admired her strong Russian affect and features, he did have a soft spot for Soviet Sexpots.      "I wouldn't know, I've never felt fear." Travis replied.      "Never? Not even in the countless times where you've faced death. Not even when you've robbed life from others, watching it drain from their eyes." The woman continued to rant. She was taking her sweet time with this. If only she'd get to the damn point.      "I don't ever think about death. And I'd suggest you spend less time spouting off about it too. People die. People kill People. If you spend to much time thinking about it, you're likely to die yourself." Travis was getting sick of shooting the shit. Number Six was still enjoying their battle of wits, however.      "Sympathy?" The black haired girl chuckled. She brought a hand from behind her, revealing a couple of grenades. "That's sweet of you my little tulip. You really are as green as they come, so adorable."      "Enough!" Travis sprinted at the dark haired assassin with his sword raised over his head. Halfway to reaching her, he felt the ground give out from beneath him. He fell almost twenty feet before landing flat on his ass. "Goddamn..." Travis said as he rubbed his sore back. He was so busy ignoring his opponents idle banter that he had forgotten to watch his step.      "Silly little tulip. Enjoy the flower bed I've dug for you." Travis looked up in time to see a black dot above him, whistling as it fell. It landed in his lap with a thud. He picked up the foreign object and instinctively dropped it the moment he realized what it was.      "Shit!" Travis cried out a second too late. The grenade exploded and sent him flying several feet upward inside the sand pit before tossing him ass up in the grit. He spat sand from his mouth.      "Oh Travis, if you're still alive can you do me a small favor. Catch!"      "BITCH!!!" Travis shouted as he tried to claw his way out of the pit in time, only to be smacked in the head by several lobbed grenades. He quickly ran up the collapsing wall of the pit and dug his fingers into the unstable precipice of the sand trap. Struggling to pull himself up, he gained a lucky push of moment from the exploding grenades, enough to thrust him out of the hole and once more into a faceful of sand.      Number Six shook her head. "Oh little tulip, you certainly can take a beating can't you?" <God> Six's heart melted to butter as she watched this adorable hunk shake off mortal wounds like they were just playful punches. She bit her thumb to suppress the urge to let out a moan. <Fuck. He's too dumb to just die, and too handsome to live. I'd better kill him now before this overgrown ape gets any cuter>. Travis knelt on one knee, putting his weight on his sword to stabilize himself. "You know, if you weren't such a ruthless killer, I'd almost say I liked you." Travis grunted as he felt several broken ribs scream in protest.

     "Oh, do you mean 'like' like?" Six teased.

     "You know, I take that back. Right about now, I'd say I've got a hard on for you THIS BIG!" Travis charged at the clever Ruskie. He smirked as he closed in for the killing blow, his opponent hadn't even armed another explosive, how careless.

     *THAWP*      Travis buckled to the ground, having just felt the cold caress of Six's metal leg burying itself into his weak man flesh with several tons of pneumatic force.       "You...bitch..." Travis reeled on the ground. He was simply too weak to fight. Six had already claimed her victory over him, now she was just flaunting it.      "Tsk tsk, do you need me to give you an ice pack? Maybe a bit of heat would do better." Travis felt a gentle hand on his cheek. He could see Six looking down on him, kneeling down to comfort him. "What good is an assassin that can't kill a man... don't tell me you've gotten soft on me Six."      "Mm... maybe I just wanted a taste of your blade." Travis could feel his belt unfasten as Six shoved her hand under his pants. "You wouldn't deny me such a simple pleasure, not in exchange for your life?" Travis smiled. This was perfect.      "My Master *cough* taught me exactly how to handle beautiful women like you." Travis said in a sultry voice.

      "Oh, was he a ladies man?" Six asked.

      "Not exactly." Travis replied. He quickly kicked Six in the chest, using her recoil as an opportunity to spin her around and put her in a full nelson. In one quick motion he flipped her backwards over his head, pile-driving Six into the sand.      Six was light headed, dizzy. She eventually came to moments later only to find Travis now over her body. "Someone looks happy to see me." Six said as she once again reached for Travis' rather large tent. Travis would have protested, had he realized what Six was groping was not his flesh. Before he could think he immediately tore off and flung his pants. Before they hit the ground the pair of grenades tucked inside the groin exploded and tore his jeans to shreds.       "Fuck. Not looking forward to that conversation..." Travis muttered to himself. He quickly saved face and turned to Six, who was too dizzy to pick herself up off the ground. His katana was held steady, and pointed at her face.      "This is how it ends, my tulip." Six looked up at him. Her eyes were steady, she feared nothing. Travis paused. In that moment, Six saw his weakness. "You can't kill a woman. Pathetic. How can you call yourself a killer." Travis stared back into Six's tiger-like eyes. If he let Six go, he could not expect to sleep tonight knowing that he was Sixth in rank. He may not be able to sleep at all.      "So tell me, Lucky number Six, why you'd rather die here than live to kill again. I told you I don't fear death, Six. I don't plan to die soon either. What makes you so eager."      "Maybe..." Six began. "Maybe I want to die before I lose..."      "Lose?" Travis scratched his head. "Lose what? Your rank?"      Travis immediately found his ears being assaulted by a cacophonous sound. The sand of the beach flew in every direction and filled his nostrils and mouth. When his tears finally cleaned enough sand out of his eyes, he saw an Apache helicopter flying out to sea. Six was nowhere to be seen.      "Well well well, I see you've kept things rather tidy. My boys will be happy to have so little work today." Travis turned his head to see Sylvia stroll up to him. She forcefully shoved a pair of worn denim jeans in his hands. "I suppose I don't need to tell you that I am, as always, right."      Travis looked back out to the ocean. The helicopter was just a black dot in the sky now. Even that dot was slowly fading out of sight.      "You don't want to hide your shame? There is a lady in your presence after all, Travis." Sylvia mocked Travis. Her time with the assassin had been one of the perks of her profession, and she had grown rather fond of the big brute.     "Her name." Travis said coldly.      "Excuse me." Sylvia replied, the question had caught her off guard.      "What was her name." Travis repeated. His sword was lowered at his side, like a flag at half mast.      "Oh." Sylvia regained her sassy composure. "Well, I suppose I don't have to hide that anymore, Mr.Sixth Ranked assassin. Her name was Holly Summers, born in-"      "No. Just her name." Travis interrupted. He took out a wad of cash from his pocket and threw it at Sylvia's feet. "For the pants." He said dryly as he walked down the beach.      "Where are you going? You have an appointment to make Travis. Number five does not have a great deal of patience." Travis replied to these concerns with a dismissive wave of his hand as he continued to walk down the beach.

     Travis arrived halfway down the beach, and dug a hole two feet deep with his hands. He turned off his beam katana and dropped into the hole. He spent the time covering the hole with dirt trying to think of the proper words to say.      "Holly...I'm sorry." He spoke as his fingers dug into the wet sand. "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you that I loved your soul. I...I loved you."      Travis knelt by the sand. Was this really over. Was this how the life of an assassin ended. Not with a sword through the chest, or a bullet in the brain, but an arrow to the heart? Travis pulled himself to his feet only to see Sylvia waiting for him.      "You're pulling out already? How typical of a buffoon."      Travis simply nodded in response.      "Well then. As your manager, I have certain powers at my disposal. I don't just arrange these little meet and greets, I'll have you know I can plan all sorts of sorties."      "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Travis replied weakly. Sylvia shoved a manila envelope in his hand. "I don't know, you tell me Mr.Ex-Assassin." Travis opened the folder and scooped out an unassuming black flip phone. He smiled, weakly, and chuckled to himself.      "You know, a manager with your kind of talent is wasting away in a shit job like this." Travis said coolly.      "Your telling me. I'm simply drenched in sweat from being in this infernal beach in stockings and jacket." Travis gave a small chuckle as he watched her brush off the sand from her Jacket. Then Sylvia marched up to Travis and thrust her finger into his chest. Travis winced. "Look here Travis, if you're going to take this seriously I don't want to see any of this three-day-waiting-period bullshit. You wanted to take a walk on the beach, no?" Travis' face lit up with a smile. "Just call her." Sylvia added as she walked off.      Travis went to the contacts list on the phone, and selected the only contact in the address book.      "Hey, I'm sorry about earlier. I know a great pizza place down the street. Pizza and a movie at my place?"      On the other end, the whir of helicopter blades made hearing anything quite impossible. "I...I can't hear you. Text me Travis!"      "Yes Ma'am!" Travis ended the call and began pressing buttons on his phone. As he walked up the stairs back to the pier, he saw an old couple sitting on the bench.      "Is that the nice young man you keep ranting on about dear." The old lady asked her husband.      "Yes dear, that's the queermosexual with the tiny pecker right now." the old man replied.      Travis simply shook his head and kept walking. "Fucking old people." He muttered to himself before happily texting Holly on his cell phone.      "Dear, do you want to screw like rabbits on the beach?" The old lady asked her hubby.      "Doris, I thought you'd never ask!" the old man said as he quickly hopped to his feet and helped his wife to hers.

[mitsunari]

A Yuri!!! On Ice fantasy AU drabble I’ve started on. If it doesn’t make sense, that’s to be expected considering I can’t concentrate on a single tangent for more than five minutes and my writing style is.... mmmm... tedious? Redundant? Anyway this is just the beginning of it.

It’s got no title. Currently rated G for General Audiences. It’s Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky centered, but this first part just has Otabek and Katsuki Yuuri as characters. Otabek is still Hero of Kazakhstan but for different reasons, as he’s a conduit for the forces of nature basically (kind of like The Avatar, but instead natural spirits use his body to channel their power more constructively). Yuuri is an astronomer who has an intense passion for space. Otabek and Yuuri have met in the past for reasons (just Yuuri’s professional life crossing paths with Otabek’s duties).

And... well... spoilers, lol, Yuri P shows up as a dragon. He just hasn’t shown up yet. All I really want to do is write Otabek the shaman bonding with a dragon but I also wanted setup and slow burn and development and also practice because writing is Hard and Sucks and Difficult for someone with my brain to figure out since it’s all on my own. Please, for the love of God, ask questions and tell me if you’re interested. I am an attention whore who loves talking about this AU. I just can’t write it as well as I’d like because tfw perfect self-expectations.

Without further ado.......

_________________________________________

The Russian truck rumbled up the hill, jostling Katsuki Yuuri in the seat and jangling the keys. Yuuri clutched the steering wheel for dear life. Leaving the observatory in the red truck hadn’t been too bad driving downhill, but uphill… different story.

There were only two streets out of Almaty that led into the Trans-Ili Alatau. The southernmost was the one that led to Yuuri’s workplace, the Tien Shan Astronomical Observatory. The second road went east, ultimately dead-ending in the protected national park. In the fall, hunters were allowed to hunt certain animals, but the deadline had ended back in November and Yuuri didn’t see any as he drove by. Snow and rocks crunched under the truck’s treaded tires.

At the first and only gasoline station on the road, Yuuri turned and drove past its two pumps, going off-road downhill this time. He followed the flat area between the drop toward the river and a rock face for a few kilometers. He was certain it was only possible his truck could pass through here because he was Otabek’s acquaintance. (Possibly friend, but Yuuri didn’t want to presume too much.) He was here because he needed Otabek’s help, his opinion, and maybe his powers to divine a problem. Heck, Yuuri did not even know the extent of the man’s abilities. In his opinion, Otabek was some kind of kami living in the Kazakh mountains.

Eventually, the towering rock wall leaned away and welcomed Yuuri into a wide open space covered in snow. His truck went up and down many hills, but once he was nearly level with the river bed, the land flattened out and Yuuri could see Otabek’s acreage. At least he hoped this was the place. His fence was wood and wire around the land. Yuuri stopped in front of the metal gate. After struggling to squeeze his fat belly past the steering wheel, he nearly tripped out of the cab. Overhead, a falcon screeched in laughter.

“Hehe…,” Yuuri laughed in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his head. He opened the gate, then quickly got back in the truck to drive on in.

Heaving a sigh, Yuuri let his head drop hard against the headrest. He felt nervous about seeing the hero of Kazakhstan again, mainly because he wondered how Otabek would take his news. In the observatory’s telescopes, the astronomers Phichit Chulanont and Katsuki Yuuri had seen something new: a star forming in the Plisetsky nebula! For science, Yuuri was giddy at every discovery. He’d come to the observatory from Japan with his fellow alumni Phichit to study space. Nebulae, satellites, suns… he adored it all.

But stars did not grow this quickly in any man’s lifetime.

At first, Yuuri compared it to other pictures taken from Hubble, ISS, and other observatories. In the last three months, he saw progressive brightening in the Plisetskys. With weeks of testing, Phichit and their other colleagues continued monitoring the nebula. Last night, the brightening star had become visible in the sky without a telescope. Immediately the next morning, Yuuri got into the truck to contact Otabek personally. Otabek didn’t carry a phone, and Yuuri didn’t have the luxury of sending messages through eagles.

Yuuri feared Otabek would tell him this was some bad omen. His stomach gurgled uneasily. “Oh, better get this over with,” Yuuri sighed.

He stopped the truck before he was ten meters from a small stone cottage, parking next to a 4x4. He slid out and looked around at the home. A black horse stood in a paddock with some goats. Smoke rose from the narrow chimney in the middle of the roof.

“Altin-san?” Yuuri called out. He strode up to the door, but Otabek opened it before he could knock.

The Kazakh shaman used to be shorter than Yuuri, but he saw now that Otabek had grown to his height. His black hair had grown out to his shoulders. Furs clothed his body for warmth. Yuuri felt heat radiate out of the doorway. He rubbed his arms through his coat sleeves.

“Katsuki Yuuri…,” Otabek rumbled. He nodded in greeting and bid Yuuri to come in with a gesture toward the center fire. Yuuri removed his boots by the doorway, dancing around Otabek closing the door behind him.

“Excuse me,” Yuuri mumbled.

“Tea?”

“Yes please.” Yuuri walked up a step into the cottage, picking a chair. Otabek busied pouring into a cup and handed it to him. Inhaling deeply, even though it fogged Yuuri’s glasses, he let it warm him.

“Did the terrain let you enter without problem?” Otabek asked.

“Mm?” Yuuri squeaked into the cup. His eyes widened behind his totally fogged-up glasses. Let me? Yuuri immediately thought of magic trees gobbling up his truck. “I… I mean I followed your directions. The only issue was snow,” he tried not to stutter.

Otabek let out a sigh. “That’s good. The roads downhill are dangerous.”

Oh he meant the elements, Yuuri lamely realized. “Oh… yes. No major problems,” he replied quickly.

While drinking the tea and enjoying the fire together, they went quiet which was acceptable to the both of them. Yuuri looked around to see new paintings and maps drying. The maps were familiar to him. The ones at work were still in Cyrillic, having not changed since the Soviets, and Otabek had been working on a map back when they’d first met too.

“How are those coming along?” Yuuri asked.

Otabek looked over him, then the maps Yuuri looked at. “Good.” He blinked as if he remembered something and walked over to his work table. He picked up one of the paper maps, handing it to Yuuri. “You may take this back with you,” he replied. “I finished it.”

“Oh! Thank you! Thank you so much.” Yuuri clutched the folded paper, beaming up at Otabek. His smile faltered moments later as he glanced guiltily at his messenger bag. Otabek scrutinized him with a side-cocked expression. Swallowing, Yuuri unzipped his bag and pulled out folders. “You’re undoubtedly wondering why I’m here…” He exchanged the folders with Otabek.

Otabek flipped open to the pictures. Yuuri carefully studied his face, watching almond eyes widen as he pored through the pictures. Otabek looked up expecting Yuuri to finish where he’d trailed off, and immediately Yuuri began stammered. “Um, well, I, we--uh I mean Phichit and I, do you remember him?-- well, uh, we found a new star!”

Both black-haired men went quiet in the cottage. Otabek picked up the pictures, saying nothing, just switching between the progressions. Yuuri held his breath, then let out a loud exhale when he saw Otabek’s lip quirk up at the corner.

“Y-you’re smiling? That means it’s a good thing, yes? We can announce it to the science world without bringing total wicked annihilation on us, yes?” Yuuri blurted out.

Otabek pushed all the papers together while giving Yuuri a strange squint. “Why is that the first thing to come to mind?” he asked softly.

Yuuri pushed his index fingers together sheepishly. “Well, ahhh, every time I see you, there’s always something going on, like the time we saw a comet and next thing we know, you’re coming across the mountain to tell us to guard against earthquakes, and I mean like, uh, well….” Not to mention the eclipse at Aralkum! He felt stupid blabbering in front of the much more stoic man. He could never read Otabek’s expressions, and Yuuri always defaulted to they think I’m a fucking idiot! every time he opened his mouth.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he clutched his hands out in front of his knees. Yuuri suddenly felt a hand touch his. Surprised, he dropped his cup of tea. The stoneware hit the floor with a THUNK on its solid base. Yuuri looked up with horrified eyes only to see Otabek reach down to pick it up and put it back in his hand. The tea hadn’t even sloshed out.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle,” Otabek murmured, dismissing Yuuri’s dumbstruck expression. He leaned back to his own seat and flipped through the rest of the memo. “I am glad you thought to tell me, Mr. Katsuki--”

“Yuuri, p-please!”

“Right. Yuuri.” Otabek gestured to the pictures. “I can’t confirm or deny your fears. The spirits of nature do as they please.” A marvelled sigh slipped through his lips. “It is… a beautiful star.” Glancing over at Yuuri made the Japanese man straighten. “May I see it for myself?”

“It became visible to the naked eye last night.” Yuuri shifted in his seat. “You’d have to come to the observatory’s side of the mountains though. The ridge hides it from over here. Too tall.” He held up his hand and shook his head, and Otabek nodded in understanding.

“I’d ask for a ride back with you but the day has barely started. When’s a good time tonight?” he asked.

“Umm, 8 PM, I guess,” Yuuri said. “We’ve got a garage and oh, well, I mean you’ve been there before… you know…,” he trailed off.

Otabek laughed silently with sharp exhales out of his nose, and Yuuri reddened in embarrassment. “It’s been a few months but yes, I remember.” Closing the folders, he handed everything back to the astronomer. “Thank you.” He seemed to notice Yuuri’s expression because he added, “These are beautiful.”

Yuuri brightened in pride as fat fingers clutched the folders happily. For now, the worry of Otabek’s omen subsided, and he was thrilled by science and beauty again. Oh, beloved space! Hastily, he gulped down the rest of his tea and stood up, not intending to burden Otabek further as a guest. “Um, please excuse me!” He placed the folders carefully in his messenger bag and tucked Otabek’s new map in for safety. “I’ll see you tonight! We can talk more there.”

“Of course,” Otabek replied. He put his tea cup down and followed Yuuri to the door.

Yuuri smelled a strong smell of spruce all of a sudden. He looked over his shoulder at Otabek, smiling and nodding goodbye to him when the man tilted his head in question. After shoving on his boots, Yuuri pulled his winter hat further on his head, leaving Otabek’s house in a shuffle. Phichit would be happy to see Otabek, Yuuri thought; after all, the viral video of Otabek’s magic in the Aralkum--glowing like an LED display!--belonged to Phichit. It was all over Twitter, especially since Phichit was basically Verified and famous for running the TSAO official Instagram + Twitter. Was it science? Was it magic? The internet didn’t know.