#the but what if it was yuri crowd is saving america

[yoificfinder]

Hi! I was wondering if you would be able to find some time travel/time loop AUs where Victor and Yuuri (and other members of the YoI cast) are thrown around in time please? Thank you so much!

Hi! These are some time travel fics (mix of both canonverse and AUs) I read and enjoyed:

Previous rec of time travel fics where they meet their other self in the other timeline

a great desire to love by lily_winterwood / @omgkatsudonplease [T, 22K]

For some strange, inexplicable, fantastic reason, Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov are trading places. Kimi no Na wa AU.

All Our Yesterdays by @kitsunebi-uk [E, 102K]

York, England, 2120: Yuuri Katsuki is a dime-a-dozen techie, spending his days doing routine repairs at the university. He hangs out with his friend Phichit, goes for a drink, watches holograms. It’s an existence – but is it a life?

Crowood Castle, Yorkshire, 1392: As the son of a baron, Sir Victor Nikiforov makes judgements where lives hang in the balance. As a knight, he must sometimes end them. It’s what he was born to do – but what of the heavy burden on his soul? Death is all too commonplace, while life and love remain elusive.

When a brilliant scientist goes rogue, journeying to the Middle Ages with the world’s first time machine, Yuuri is stunned to be called on as the last hope of preventing her from changing history. After an abrupt departure, he lands at Crowood Castle disguised as an enemy of the Nikiforovs, Sir Justin le Savage – and will need to act the part if he is to survive. It’s a tall order for someone who can barely tell the back end of a horse from the front. But if Ailis, in her own disguise, discovers who he is, his mission will end in a blaze of laser-gun fire. He must not give his real identity away, even to the beguiling knight he’s falling in love with…

Elevators Out of Order by mtothedestiel [E, 31K] *WIP

A Kate and Leopold AU. In 1876, Victor Nikiforov is a handsome duke with an inventive imagination and a dwindling fortune. The search for a wealthy bride brings him to America, and the capital of progress, New York City. Can an encounter with a mysterious stranger offer Victor a future he never dreamed of?

Meanwhile in 2017, physicist turned paper-pusher Yuuri Katsuki is just trying to get through the day, which is tough enough without surprise phone calls from his roommate announcing he has a 19th-century aristocrat out cold on their sofa.

To top things off, it would seem every elevator in Manhattan is suddenly out of order. What a coincidence.

Here Once and Back Again by Cbear2470 [E, 77K] *WIP *Major Character Death

“What?” was all Yuuri could say as a numbness froze over his body.

Something—something wasn’t right. It was then he realized he couldn’t remember getting to the rink. He couldn’t remember even stepping on the ice to start his program.

He couldn’t remember.

He tried to remember.

*

As Yuuri is skating his free skate, he knows something is off. But, he brushes it aside, too focused on executing the program flawlessly.

It isn't until after it's all over that Yuuri comes to discover that he just skated his gold-medal winning, record-breaking program at the 2014-15 Grand Prix Final in Sochi. The very same final Yuuri had once upon a time placed last in over two years ago.

here's to the glory still to be by @foxfireflamequeen [Not Rated, 12K]

“Hi,” says Viktor, smile bright and camera-ready. His hand, when he extends it, is small and delicate. “I think you know who I am, but we haven’t met.”

His accent is very thick, very Russian in a way Yuri has never heard before. He looks from the offered hand to Viktor’s face, barely an inch higher, and tracks his hair, long and pale and spilling over his shoulders. He can’t be older than, well, Yuri.

“No,” says Yuri. “We haven’t.”

in another dimension series by @alykapediaaa [T, 8K]

Summary of first fic in the series

Entertainment >> Celebrity News

Viktor Nikiforov: Finally Found!

SOMERSET – Russian model Viktor Nikiforov, 27, who has been declared missing last May of this year was finally found earlier today. Nikiforov, known as the face of luxury brand Stammi Vicino, was vacationing at Bath, Somerset after a successful season when he suddenly disappeared, leaving all of his belongings, as well as his poodle, behind. Yakov Feltsman, Nikiforov’s manager, has yet to release a statement. Read More.

Life Unwoven by ayn2390 [M, 23K] *Indefinite Hiatus

Five-Time Consecutive Grand Prix Final Winner Katsuki Yuuri meets Five-Time Consecutive Grand Prix Final Winner Victor Nikiforov.

or,

In which things are tangled, and untangled, and tangled again. And Victor will always be there to save Yuuri.

Maelstrom by @feels-like-fire [E, 44K]

Victor Nikiforov is poised to win gold in his fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final. He has the world at his feet, is unparalleled in the sport--right up until a snowstorm blows into Sochi, and he finds himself repeating the same day over and over and over. He stumbles over Yuuri Katsuki, and everything changes.

(Or, the time loop au. Loosely based on Groundhog Day.)

On My Love by RikoJasmine [T, 73K] *WIP

For the second time, the Sochi Grand Prix Finals arrive, and with it a reborn Yuuri Katsuki. “Viktor,” Yuuri thinks over the pounding of his heart, the crowd going silent as the music begins. “I’ll show the world what you meant to me.”

Yuuri often thinks of his life as Before and After Viktor Nikiforov, the marking point being the day Viktor swept into his life and turned his world upside-down. After many years together, an accident leads to Yuuri suddenly waking up in the Before—back in Detroit, before the GPF, before he ever knew Viktor as anything other than his childhood idol.

As if it had all been just a dream.

paso doble by @cafecliche [G, 4K]

"Long before skating, or even ballet, Yuuri would hear about it at festivals, in the boiling humidity of Hasetsu summers dancing the Bon Odori in the streets. He remembered years where Mari would take him home alone, while their parents comforted lingering, distraught dancers. Sometimes, Mari had explained, they were crying because they’d seen lost loved ones. Some cried because they didn’t see who they’d hoped, but a stranger. And some cried because they hadn’t seen anyone at all.

Because it’s not just the steps. The dancers need, even for a second, to feel the exact same thing."

(Or: days before Hot Springs on Ice, Yuuri receives a visitor from another time.)

The League of the Green Carnation by @abarero [M, 62K]

There was one golden rule to being a Time Scientist: do not bring home anything that was a fixed point in history. This meant most artifacts, extinct animals and the like were permissible. Historical figures? Not so much.

But what about an author? Namely, Yuuri’s favorite author, who was murdered in 1887. Could he be saved?

Well. Yuuri was sure as hell about to find out.

Turn Back the Clock by IronScript [T, 59K] *WIP

When Yuuri and Viktor wake up over thirty years in the past, they don't know what to do. Does the other remember?

Luckily that particular question is quickly answered and they can relax slightly, but what about afterwards? Viktor was brought back to right before his first Olympics, and Yuuri isn’t even old enough to compete in Seniors’!

Then there's the fact that they're still very much in love, but a physical relationship would be illegal (and would gross them both out considering Yuuri's age), and they can't count on anyone to just trust them not to do anything age inappropriate. So maybe being long-distance (with as many in-person meetings as possible) would be better until Yuuri becomes a legal adult physically, never mind his actual age.

But it's hard to behave and act naturally when you're forced to be apart from your husband of twenty years, especially during one of the most stressful parts of anyone's life, so Yuuri and Viktor have to distract themselves somehow, right?

Right.

And if everyone around them ends up completely confused and blindsided at their sudden changes (though admittedly they seem to have changed for the better), then so be it!

[queerchoicesblog]

New York, At Last (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series)

So, folks, here’s the new chapter of the series. Thank you so much for your support, hope you enjoy it!

Little disclaimer-favor: especially since the tags don’t seem to be working anymore, if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Word Count: 3000+

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped​ ​ @storyscapefanficarchive​ @marmolady​ @animus-and-anima​ @hayley-carter19 @escako​  @everlastingchoices​ @indescribablechoices​ @ahrielstuff​ @bornonawdnsday​ @nazario-sayeed​  @h-doodles​ @adele-serda​ @marlcasters​ @brightpinkpeppercorn​  @michelleconnoly​ @charliejane-blog​ @ghost-of-yuri​  @choicesgremlin​  @lanzhansguqin​ @orange-elephants​

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon​ @nydeiri​

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13

____________________________________

A thick fog rises and surrenders our ship as we sail towards New York. It lingers there, night and day, as if it's escorting us to our destination. We can hardly see the ocean anymore, we acknowledge its presence by the murmur of the waves, the breathing of the cold water beneath us. The captain must have given order to be careful because we proceed at low speed, "like in a funeral march" I find myself noting one day. I refrain myself from saying that out loud though. We are asked to stay below deck as much as possible as storms are announced. We sail through troubled waters: some of us get sick, others are too shattered to even register the rolling of the ship. The morale on board has crashed since our first day here. Both the crew and the passengers of the Carpathia have offered us help, sympathy and support. Some gave us their coats or whatever clothing item could keep us warm after we lost everything. They didn't ask for anything in return. Others helped searching for missing people: now a list of names is pinned in one of the halls. People check it regularly with a mix of hope and dread: hope to see their friend or loved one again, dread to spot a black cross by the name so dear to them. If someone cannot be found here on the ship is declared perished in the sinking. Unofficially, obviously, the mourning ones can still try and search them when we reach shore but most surrender under the weight of those tiny scribbles. Those black crosses are not just a quick sign on paper, they pierce through their aching hearts.

As our rescue journey is coming to an end, we are all mourning. The lucky ones who were reunited with their families and friends keep a low profile in respect of all those who lost their loved ones. Their grief is overwhelming, you can sense it, even breathe it in the grim silence that fill the night. Poor souls... I feel almost guilty when on our last day on board I accidentally bump into two familiar faces. I was looking for a steward when I collided with...Lawrence. Felix is right behind him. My heart skips a beat as I call out their names. Lawrence smiles at me and I am so relieved that we met again. We hug each other and I inhale the faint perfume of his eau de cologne. They survived, they survived... I repeat those words in my head as I pull Felix in for an embrace too. They both survived: I don't even start imagining what sort of pain would have tortured one of them if the other didn't make it. They wouldn't have allowed it: if there had been no way to save both of them, they would have gone down with the ship together. I know it, I saw it in their eyes when we parted on the deck. They told me how they stayed until there was no time left. Many of those who are here now owe them their lives: they kept directing women and children and even some men to the boats before jumping on the very last lifeboat at the very last minute. I couldn't be more proud of these two unaware heroes I am honoured to call friends. They are going to visit the little boy they rescued and his brother: the woman they entrusted them to is still taking care of them. Others passengers are helping too. No one has understood what language they speak or where they're from, where their parents are but at least they're safe. "That's all that matters now", Felix notes and I agree. If only the world could see what shining beauty my friends hold... Before parting, they ask me about me: could I find a spot on a boat fast? Did I succeed in speaking some sense into the thick skull of that officer? Is James with me? I share my last moments on the ship with them and when I am still in the middle of my answer, Lawrence reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. "Did you find Miss Carrem? Is...is she here?" he asks, concern written all over his face. Felix is grimacing too. Their expression relaxes only when I assure them that yes, we were reunited on the deck and she's now resting with her sister. Lawrence's face color up again as he lets out a deep sigh of relief. "We were so worried, Zetta! When we spotted her on the deck we immediately directed her to the lifeboats and to you...but we weren't sure if you two could find each other in the midst of all that chaos or get on a boat" he explains. "Yes, we pictured the worst...we're so relieved, Miss Zetta, so incredibly relived" Felix continues, smiling. I wonder what I did good in my life to have men like them on my side. Their affection and empathy soothe my troubled soul and make me wish to never part from them. I should invite them more often when we reach shore, yes we should see each other more often...things can change and will change now that we'll be all in New York. I ask them if they want to see Adele: I can wake her, I'm sure she will be more than happy to see them. They assure me it's fine and beg me not wake her. They will visit later maybe but for now they're just happy "she's here safe and sound". "And that you are together again" Lawrence adds with a tired smile. The soft warmth in his voice tells me what I already know: he knows, they know. How could they not? But my secret is safe with them and I am grateful to them for the genuine care they showed to Adele. And well, me. I hug them both one more time then we part ways. I hope to see them very soon. I must invite them over once our lives will slowly go back to a new normal. Maybe this tragedy will make us closer. When I finally find a steward, I am informed that we are approaching shore. "We'll be in New York tonight, ma'am" he announces with an encouraging smile as if to say that our troubles are over. I go back to my group and share the news. Adele and Hileni are still sleeping, only Teo, Jaime and Sabine greet my announcement with a nod but keeps quiet. I know what's going on in their heads, their thoughts are my thoughts: it feels so weird to hear these words after all we've been through. It almost doesn't feel right when so many of us are not here. Even when the news spread among the other survivors I hear no cheer, only sighs: could it be relief or grief, it's hard to tell. Maybe both. A silent question echo in the room: now what? Sabine shakes her head and gives a grim laugh. "I thought I would have been buried in work today, instead..." She looks down at her empty hands: my little Napoleon so efficient and fond of schedules must feel lost now. No scrupulous packing to do, no checking if our belongings are properly gathered or something is missing. She takes her job very seriously and - I realise it now- her job is her life. "Consider this a free day" It's Matteo speaking, he sounds absentminded but then he turns towards Sabine and meets her gaze. "Allow yourself to be the one being served, for once" he adds. He tries to smirk, one of his signature smirk I saw on his face so very often, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks tired and troubled just like us. As if on cue, a waitress approaches us and asks if we would like a cup of coffee. I see Sabine barely refraining herself from reaching out to help her: it feels almost unnatural to her being on the other side. The waitress is a young girl, I wonder if she's even twenty. She's chatty: she comments how nice coming home must feel after a journey like ours. She has relatives in New York but never visited the city properly although "it is truly gorgeous, isn't it?". She asks us if it's our final destination and wishes all the very best. She parts from us with an encouraging smile: she will come back later to bring coffee to Adele and Hileni when they wake up. It's evening when we enter the bay and proceed towards the pier, escorted by a scout cruiser. We move to one of the decks only to find it crammed with other survivors. We have to fight our way through the crowd once again to get a spot near the railing. We are all to see with our own eyes if our journey has truly come to an end. If we're truly safe. The lights of New York flicker in the distance despite the heavy rain. Now I know it's over, all the horrors and fears are finally over. A lump forms in my throat at the sight of my city, my home but I shake it off. I reach for Hileni's hand and guide her upwards, pointing her the sea of lights on the shore. "There, sweetheart, look! See those lights? It's America" Three long blasts of the ship horns frame my words. The young girl squeezes her eyes to see better; after a moment, a tiny smile crosses her lips and relief washes over me. "It's...shiny!" she notes. "Shiny is definitely one word for it" I agree, smiling at her naive awe. For a moment, I am reminded of myself, my young self when I first saw the city that eventually became my home. I wager I was around the same age of Hileni. And just like her, that sight filled me with a mix of wonder, adrenaline and vague hope. "Adal, come here, come see! It's New York!" she says, turning and calling for her sister. Adele is right behind. Hearing her name, she immediately approaches us. "So, this is it?" she asks, placing her hands on Hileni's shoulders and pressing a quick kiss on top of her head. "So unimpressed, huh, Adele?" I tease her but when our eyes meet a soft smile is on my lips. "I promise it gets better, give it time" Without thinking twice, I wrap my arm around her waist and move a bit closer. "Welcome to New York" I add and for some reason I feel my eyes welling with tears. My love keeps quiet but a weak smile draws on her face. She rests her head on my shoulder and we both look into the distance, towards our new lives to come. There is a grim irony in how bittersweet the end of our journey is. We were supposed to make a glorious arrival, a triumphant march towards America on the "Queen of the Sea" but there is nothing of that fantasy now. The Titanic sleeps at the bottom of the ocean with many poor souls, too many poor souls and we're proceeding towards our initial destination sombrely in a cold rainy New York night. The fog hasn't lifted completely so we must look like a ghost ship. A ghost ship approaching in the mist filled with us, ghosts among ghosts. The darkness around us is lit up only by the city lights at the horizon and the flashlights of cameras of a bunch of photographers on a tug boat following us to the pier. It goes without saying that the Titanic tragedy will be the talk of the town for weeks, months maybe...but I wish those vultures could have refrained themselves until we reach shore. We proceed in front of them in mournful silence, indifferent to the flashlights hitting our faces. When we finally dock and the vibration of the engines beneath our feet subsides, we all stand in disbelief. It's over, it's truly over now. We're in America. The Carpathia passengers are disembarked first: the Captain is afraid the scene will become tumultuous as we survivors, the main attraction for the press, will appear. His concerns are well founded judging by the loud buzz coming from beneath us. When it's our turn to go I take a deep breath and give one last grateful look to the crew waving us goodbye and whispering good wishes as we pass by. Heavy raindrops run down my face as I walk down the gangway but I hardly notice. As my feet touch land I shiver: I'm home yet...I feel like in a dream. I hold Adele's hand tight and we move cautiously forward into the crowd. I look around and all I see is a multitude of lost souls and flashlights. I don't hear what the men of the press are shouting, what the land officers are shouting back: all around their voices blend together and I can't distinguish who is saying what in this dissonant choir. "Let them pass, give them space for Christ's sake!" "What can you tell us about the sinking?" "A few words for the Tribune, please!" "Blankets, warm blankets, let me give you blanket, Sir" "How many people died?". I keep walking under the rain, following Sabine and Hileni proceeding arm in arm ahead of us. I think back at all those we left behind, like Charlie, my love's poor brave friend, and Mr. Andrews, defeated by his sense of guilt yet fighting till the end. All those desperate people screaming in the icy waters before surrendering to their grim fate. I think back of the upset young woman who was searching for her beloved Henry: I wonder where she is now and I pray a kind soul is taking care of her. We stop to let the medical personnel pass. They're holding a stretcher with a man buried under a pile of wool blankets. There are bandages around his head and his eyes don't seem to register what's happening around him. Another follows with a woman begging through tears the midwife holding her hand to call her husband. I shake away those thoughts before they can pierce my soul and I let my eyes wander through the crowd as we proceed. James is not far and so is Matteo. A few months ago I was standing on a pier just like this one, maybe this one waiting to start my journey. I was so relieved back then to get a break, to run away for a while...to see James again. So curious to see the "Ship of Dreams" everyone was talking about on my return trip. It all feels so hollow and distant now as if it happened in another life. Or maybe it's just me...I feel changed. I turn to Adele. My love looks like a stranded and forlorn Robin Crusoe setting foot on a foreign land: she keeps walking but she's lost, almost afraid of these new chaotic surroundings. She looks so fragile and different from the bold girl who stepped into my suite not so long ago. I feel like I could break her now if I hugged her too tight. I give her hand an encouraging squeeze and it seems to make her snap out of her misery. "Madam, the officers need to get the passengers names before letting everyone go, we asked around" Sabine's voice ground me. She and Hileni are looking at me, both getting soaked with rain. I'm grateful to my ever efficient little Napoleon for taking charge of the situation. "There are so many of us" Adele's sister notes grimly and she's right. No matter how few of us survived the sinking, the pier is packed and the press pushing in is of little help. "It will take hours to clear the pier" I sigh. That's when I notice Hileni trying and failing to hide a shiver. I am eternally thankful to the fan giving me one of her wintry coats on board as tonight New York is getting colder and colder and the rain keeps wetting our clothes, making it harder to fight the chill. I must reward my generous fan, I got her name and address I think... Adele's hand adjusts into mine and it's as cold as ice. She still has her blue jacket on and a thin blanket completely soaked around her shoulders. "You're cold" I wince. She tries to avoid my gaze, dismissing my concerns. She's just fine, she assures me but I know her well enough to detect a lie when I hear it. Even a white lie. "You too, poor thing" I add, addressing Hileni who wraps her blanket a bit tighter around her in full response. Maybe she wants to say she's fine too but I anticipate her. "No, no, we'll do something about it. We have to wait for a while here, huh? No sense in freezing us all in the meantime" I turn towards Sabine and add, with renewed resolution: "They're passing around warm blankets, right? You two stay here, Sabine and I will get some then we'll see what to do next" My little Napoleon gives me a firm nod and addresses some comforting words to Hileni, adjusting her blanket. "You don't have to, we're fine..." Adele voice is low and somber even if she's doing her best to conceal how shattered she feels inside. Her soft yet unconvincing smile makes my heart ache. She'll be good again when we'll be away from this chaos...it will take some time maybe, but she will be fine, truly fine again. I hate the idea of parting from her side but I'll be damned if I won't take care of her and her sister. Please allow me to, my sweet love. I cup her face and caress her damp cheek. She instinctively leans to the touch as if a little warmth was all she needed. "I won't hear it, love. Stay here, I'll be back before you know it" I whisper, a tender smile on my lips. Before taking my leave, I press a quick kiss on her forehead. Then I venture with Sabine through the messy crowd. With one last look above my shoulder I see the Carrem sisters holding hands and sharing a weak smile. Surprisingly, finding stewards with blankets is tougher thanI first thought. People are gathering and looking for other passengers and missing ones, indisciplined photographers pushing their way in to get a shot of the misery of the survivors. As we fight our way through and keep searching, I try to come up with a plan. "Once we sort all this bureaucracy out, we'll find a way to get out of here" I reason out loud with Sabine. I barely hear her answer. "I'm sure your fiancée Mr King is right here waiting for you, Madam-" "Adele and her sister can stay in the blue and green rooms...they should be comfortable there, what do you think?" My mind is racing as I scan the crowd. "The blue and the green rooms sound perfect, Madam. I'll have them ready in no time whe-" "Oh no need to, Sabine! I'm sure they're already in excellent state if I know you" We stop as an officer kindly asks if he could get our names. He smiles when I say mine. "Who wouldn't know your name, Miss Serda? It's good to see you here, safe and sound" A fan, obviously. After Sabine drops hers and he checks both on a list, we ask him where we can find blankets or coats for our friends. Apparently, we're not far from his colleague! We speed up following his directions and I think I can see a man handing out wool plaids to shivering passengers. "This way, Sabine, I see him!" I cheer. Then, out of the blue, a familiar voice calls my name. "Zetta!" I stop and turn towards the sound to see... "R-Richard?" I...completely forgot about him. I don't know how but I forgot about him. It only makes sense he would be here, I would have been to even if... I- I just erased such thought. He pushes his way through the crowd and runs towards me. He's crying, it's not just rain wetting his face. He pulls me into a tight embrace and bury his head in the crook of my neck. I feel awful for forgetting about him when he starts sobbing like a child, unafraid to show his feelings, his vulnerability. I hug him back and whispers words that I hope will make him stop crying and feel a bit better. No need to cry, I'm here. I'm here, Richard. It seems to work as he loosens up his arms and face me. It's the first time I see his face in months and vice versa he mine. I wonder what he sees. His hair are soaked, dark circles loom under his eyes and his lower lip still trembles a little as he cups my face and bring our forehead together. "I was so scared when I heard the news, Zetta, so scared..." his voice is shaky as he speaks. "I-I pictured the worst, I couldn't sleep, I-" "Oh Richard..." I wince. "I tried to get in touch with the Carpathia, to send Marconigrams, I only wanted to know if you survived but the communication lines were overcrowded-" I brush away a strand of wet hair from his face. "It's fine, darling, I'm here, I'm alive, we-" "You don't know how happy and relived I am that you are, Zetta! I don't know what I would have done if you weren't on this ship, if you died that night...I truly don't know-" He embraces me again just when flash powder ignites around us. Journalists. I don't even have to wait for their shoutings to know it's the greedy press. "Zetta, Zetta!" "A word for the press!" "Would you make a statement about the tragedy?" "How is it to be back?" "Is it true that the Titanic collided with an iceberg?" No, I can't do this. I don't want to. I hear Richard groaning like a wounded animal before turning towards them. "Please, leave her be, she's just arrived-" he says but his plea goes unanswered. Journalists are a famelic species and awfully stubborn. "Oh c'mon, you have no decency? Go away, I beg you" Richard rises a hand towards the cameras to protect us from the flashlights. His voice now betrays hints of anger but he's so broken that his words sound more like a prayer. I doubt this will work, knowing those vultures. He reaches for my hand and turns towards me, leaning close to be heard over the shoutings. "Come with me, lets get you out of here. James and his valet are with John, follow me" He pulls my hand gently but I freeze. I freeze as my mind race towards Adele. Adele waiting for me on the pier with Hileni. Adele to whom I promised to be back 'before she knows it'. "What?" It's all I can manage to say. My breath catches in my throat. Richard must think I couldn't hear what he says. He repeats his words and pulls my hand again. I don't move. "No, no I-I can't, I must go back, my...my friends are wait-" I mutter but I'm cut short by those vultures again. A flashlight blinds me: the vivid light hurt my tired eyes to the point I can't see for a moment, I cover my eyes and I'm momentarily surrounded by darkness only. I hear Richard shouting back at the journalist, he's angry and exasperated now. Then he wraps an arm around my waist and guides me away, shielding me with his body from the cameras. "This way, Zetta, Mademoiselle Sabine...." My feet move against my will. I don't wanna leave the pier yet I'm too exhausted to resist. I try though but my attempt is weak and can nothing against Richard's desperate determination to take us away from this mournful chaos. When I finally gets my vision back, I'm standing in front of two cars. John, Richard's right hand, is right there, holding an umbrella for Teo and James. He tips his hat respectfully and say words I don't listen but that I presume are some kind of welcome back, so glad to see you here or things like that. My eyes fall on my travel companions: Matteo displays a dignified yet somber demeanour -I wouldn't expect nothing less from him- and winces at me as I meet his gaze while Jaime...the expression on his face is completely numb. He's distant, somewhere far away from this pier and awfully quiet, the quietest I've ever seen him. Richard encourages us all to go before the journalists are back and guides me and Sabine towards a car, Teo and my nephew will ride in John's one. He opens the door and help my little Napoleon in then me. I throw one last look to the pier before taking my seat but I can't distinguish a single face. The sky is getting darker and the crowd is slow to disperse. I stretch my neck but it's useless...I can't see my love even if I know she's there somewhere out of view. Richard hurries in after me and hastily gestures at the driver to start the engine as the lights of the cameras approach fast. When the car cautiously moves towards the boulevard, he takes my hand into his and rises it to his lips. "It will all be alright, my love, I promise you. I'll take care of you..." I register the kiss on the back of my hand but I can barely hear him. I'm not here. I am sitting here in this car disappearing into the night but I'm not here, not truly. My mind is empty. All I can think of is Adele. My Adele waiting in vain for me in the rain. My Adele...

[pocketfulofrogers]

Haunted Woman, Broken Lover Part 3

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve Rogers is usually a reasonable, ‘think first man’. Throw someone he cares for into the mix and that goes out the window. Now the world is left wondering what the hell Captain America has gotten himself into now. 

Notes: Part 3, no warnings. Idk I’m in the middle of moving and freaking out so have this.

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist

“I think that’s enough for today.” Steve’s voice isn’t what pulls you from an old memory, it’s his hand cradling yours. The soft warmth of his fingertips pressing into your palm. There’s concern in his eyes, a crease in his brow. He closes the file you had all but forgotten about and sighs. “Would you like to talk about where your head’s really at?”

There’s a joke you’re about to let slip, one that would certainly make him blush, but it feels cheap for the moment. “Do you ever wish things were different?” You find yourself asking instead.

Your question surprises him. “Different how?”

“Do you ever wish you weren’t what you are?”

“Do you?”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Sometimes.” You admit.

“Me too, I guess.” You’re shocked to hear him say. “Sometimes I wish someone else could take over. This isn’t really a life you survive.”

“I always thought of it as the sacrifice we make.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before pulling away. “Maybe.” He’s quiet for a long time, and you think you should just leave it at that. “What if we didn’t have to sacrifice anymore?”

You’re about to question him, ask what exactly that means when he makes an out of place joke, brushes off the whole conversation. 

Like him with you, you were trying to figure him out, pull back the layers the suit and name had given him and figure out who Steve Rogers really was.

Perhaps you had dug a little too deep.

**

Natasha finds you just outside the Trinità dei Monti church with a book you’re definitely not reading in your hands. It’s only for appearances as are the dark, round sunglasses and wig you don. Most of your attention is trained on the entrance of the Hassler Roma, awaiting the arrival of a man who uses his art gallery to hide the funding of terrorist attacks.

Quite cliché if you ask her

Tracking you had been the most eventful months of her year so far. She had tried to follow you through the bodies you left, but was always too late, just a step behind. She spent some time roaming Europe, then South America. Even did a week in Canada.

Then Steve had gone missing. Took an armored car and a duffle and never returned.

A tracker put the car just outside of Richmond in a field in Lorraine. The local SHIELD team reported it was intact, no signs of a struggle, but that only makes them more nervous. They tried to trace his footsteps, but lost track somewhere around Manchester.

Two hours later, Natasha was in Steve’s apartment going through everything she could find. She found a file with the name ‘Arthur Yates’ printed on the front in a locked cabinet hidden in a closet. The note you left smoothed out and paper clipped inside.

Her blood ran cold, fear stiffened her fingers and hung heavy on her shoulders. She cursed herself for not knowing, not guessing that of course Steve Rogers would take it upon himself to clear your name. The love sick fool.

Arthur Yates was a man few knew little about. What she did know came from stories you let slip after one too many drinks. You painted a picture of a powerful and obsessed man furious over the loss of his prized ‘creation’.  

One day she tried to ask you more about him and what you had called the ‘Institute’, you shut down, disappeared for a few days. 

Steve is the one who found you and brought you back.

She never asked again.

**

You recognize the soft footsteps behind you and groan. “Don’t tell me my Russian is dead.”

“It was a quick death.” Natasha quips.

“What a shame.” You sigh turning to her. “How’d you find me?”

“Tracked your hack, messy job even for you.”

You shrug your shoulders. “SHIELD had Yuri’s contacts on file.”

“Oh, cut the shit.” She bites.

You wince. “I don’t know where he is, Nat.”

She rolls her eyes. “You gave him coordinates. Did you really think he wouldn’t follow them?”

“They weren’t real! I only put Yates’ name on that stupid letter because I needed him to believe they were.” You pause to collect yourself and start again. “He’s a good man, Natasha. Everything you ever said he was and more. He never would have let me go easy.”

“So instead you left in the middle of the night. Why? Cause you started to get attached? Started to feel something real for once? It’s just a name Y/N! You are not some lifeless-“

“Do not pretend you know anything about me.” You hiss. “People who get close to me don’t just get hurt, they get killed. Yates was in DC. He was closing in. I sent Steve as far from the danger zone as I could.”

“Didn’t seem to work.”

The sudden rush of guilt causes you to look away. “He shouldn’t have been able to find anything credible. Yates covers his tracks better than I do.”

“Well he did.”

“Only because he wanted him too.”

That stops her cold, trickles ice down her spine. The thought of Steve at the mercy of a man like that was not something she had allowed herself to think about. But you? It tormented your nights and was the drive behind your days.

“Where is he.” She bites out, but doesn’t allow your response. “You can’t tell me the ‘all-seeing ghost’ hasn’t heard one thing about where Captain America is.”

You ignore her jab. “Did the Russian have a notebook on him? Would’ve been white with gold etchings, did you see it?” You press. She rolls her eyes again and you know there will be poison behind her next words, you don’t blame her. “Just tell me you know where he was staying, please.”

She tells you of a hotel three blocks east and ignore her when she questions your character, your loyalty. She’s scared, she needs an outlet. That’s why you don’t protest when she declares she’s coming with.

The walk is tense, you try to hold your tongue.

**

“Where did the name even come from?” Steve asks you.

You’re outside a crowded café in the city. High sun, blue sky, light breeze. It had taken him a solid hour to convince you to go with him. Something about fresh air. He said nothing of your disguise when you came out, not knowing why someone no one knew existed needed one, but worked up one of his own in order to show ‘solidarity’.

A local college shirt and a baseball cap worn low. The effort counted; you guess.

You had pointed out it didn’t do much to hide him, but he seemed convinced that, without the suit, it was all too easy to slip under the radar.

Still, you felt uncomfortable so out in the open. The bustling patrons, loud laughter. So many moving parts kept your eyes darting around behind your dark sunglasses. All it took though, was a single touch from him to pull you back.

This time he nudges your knee under the table with his.

You slip back into the conversation and shrug your shoulders. “Definitely not from me. Honestly, I’m not even that big of a fan of it.” He laughs at your admission.

“If you could choose, what would you go by.”

You take a moment to finish your cup while you think. “No name, just an agent.” He raises a brow. “I’ve always been solo; it’d be nice to be a part of something.”

His smile beams beneath that ridiculous cap and you wave down the waitress for refills.

**

It’s an easy building to get into. Low security, if any at all and old school locks that only take you seconds to open. You try to make a joke about missing simpler days to lighten the mood, but are only met with silence.

The door squeaks open, a testament to the lack of quality, and inside is… interesting. Gaudy red carpet and over stated gold accents. It’s tasteless and grimy and you dread having to search through his things.

Natasha stands in a corner with her arms crossed, silently seething and you’re about to reach your limit.

You find the notebook tucked under a loose floorboard and begin to flip through the pages, trailing your fingers down the margins.

“Is this really your priority right now? Your next target? Unbelievable. Steve is-“

You ball your fists, tilt your face up and close your eyes, trying to tune out her latest insults. “Do you really think so low of me?” You cut her off, voice low. “I get he’s family and you love him and he’s in danger. Alright, I get it. But if you keep coming at me like this, I’m going to kick you to the curb and go get him by myself.”

Your threat surprises her. “You’ve been tracking Yates?”

“No one can track him, but I can track those around him. Yuri had a meeting with him in Valencia two weeks ago. I almost had them both. They were communicating through a message board, coded of course, was hoping this guy wrote down the cipher.”

“Would he be stupid enough for that?”

You sigh, feeling defeated, but then your eyes catch something. “I thought so, but we’ll just have to settle for his login.” You dangle the book before her and roll your eyes when she comments she could’ve hacked that information.

**

You’re extremely good at what you do, as is Natasha, but one truth remains evident. Cracking a cipher you have no prior knowledge of because it doesn’t exist outside of one very small group of people, is difficult. The lack of privacy in this internet café doesn’t exactly help either of you.

You’re leaned over her shoulder, reading each post she pulls up. Something she only mentioned was irritating a few times.

Knowing you hadn’t purposefully led Steve into the arms of Satan himself, or that you did intend to save him, had only lessened her hurt a fraction. She still felt as if you had betrayed her somehow. At first, she understood why you had to leave, but you hadn’t returned after the dust had settled and that alone had left her reeling. She had let you in, a rare occurrence for the Black Widow.

An hour later, and perhaps Yuri hadn’t been as dense as you originally thought. Each message left was a different cipher from the last, making establishing a pattern almost impossible. Natasha had scribbled through three pieces of paper before you’re ready to tear your hair out.

Just as you’re about to call it quits, a new message pops up. Natasha groans, but you recognize it. You spent three weeks in a dark room helping develop it so long ago.

It starts with a poor attempt at pleasantries, vaguely detailed threats for taking out a partner, but the last line shakes you to your core.

“Come home before America’s soldier is no longer breathing.”

You keep your face emotionless, but know exactly what it means: trade your life for Steve’s. Give yourself up and submit so that he may have a chance of making it home alive. An exchange you are more than okay with.

The only problem was, Natasha would never allow you to do something as risky as this, something that could very well end in your death. She may be pissed at the moment, but you know with absolute certainty that she would knock you out and lock you in a cell if she had any idea you were even considering this.

So, the question is, how do you shake one of the greatest spies to ever exist?

“Look, we’re not going to figure this out staring at a screen all day. This is too complex for him to have not written it somewhere. Can you still access his body?”

Natasha scrunches her nose. “Yeah.”

“You get his phone and anything else that might be useful, I’ll turn the room and see if I can shake something loose, then we’ll regroup latter.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, selling your frustration. “There’s a printer here, right? This place is making me itch.”

**

Leaving Natasha with nothing more than a goodbye and an empty promise to see her soon, you flash her a smile, silently thank her for all the small slivers of happiness she had brought to your life. She returns it, mutters a small apology for her assumptions and a part of you aches.

You’re on a plane to North Carolina before she’s able to figure out you’ve tossed your burner and disappeared again, this time without a word.

[mars-the-4th-planet]

Yuri Gagarin harasses a truck driver and talks about politics with Penny Polendina

Yuri landed on the firm Russian soil in a rural town next to a gas station. Well, not that firm, but firm enough. At least, that is what the 4th panzer Corp thought while they rolled through the area, but that is neither here nor there. "Vodka, nyet kaliningrad luftpanzer kozorvorisc niemcy?" She asked the gas station person politely.

Roughly translated the gas station persons response was "No we do not have plutonium fuel, thats not actually a planet therefore it cannot produce fuel!"

Yuri moped excessively until the gas station person handed her a small lump of uranium. "Look, you can have this okay? Maybe you can turn it into plutonium."

Yuri handed it back and shook her head. "I apologize for wasting your time comrade, please have a nice day in our glorious soviet union."

"Our wha-"

"Penny are you a communist or a filthy cappie?" Yuri asked her robot friend, surprised that she never asked this before.

Penny put two fingers together. "I dont know... I am not really into human politics... Personally I think that the best solution would be a society run by robotics like in New Polendine Mesopotamia. It brought peace and prosperity to an otherwise chaotic and violent region."

Yuri Gagarin rolled her eyes. "That is just a mechanically led puppet state overseen and funded by the United States of America."

"Yes but us Polendinas cannot be corrupted by greed or power lust and we always make calculated and empathetic decisions according to our makers... So..."

"Robots supercede the working class Penny, so a nation run by them is anti-worker by default!"

Penny shrugged, a bit nervous about the conversation and to change the subject she pointed at a Republic of Amazon truck and exclaimed "Hey look Yuri! I did not know they had amazons in Russia!"

Yuri frowned and popped up next to the truck man as he applied gas to his truck. "Hello anti-comrade, what are you shipping through my beautiful motherland?" She asked in Russian.

The truck man looked at her, puzzled. His eyes were bagged, his shoulders sagged, his skin was pale and his limbs seemed frail. The man was in bad shape, but that was to be expected of Amazon workers.

"Ma'am... No hablo Español.." He mumbled and continued with the gassing of his truck.

"What are you shipping in this truck for the foul corporation of the Republic of Amazon?" She asked again, in English. There was a slight threatening tone in her voice.

The man blinked. "Bread, ma'am."

Yuri narrowed her eyes. "Right. Give me your keys."

"Are your robbing me?"

"No. I have authority granted to me by the USSR to search any capitalist vehicle."

"My truck does not have a political idealogy ma'am..."

Yuri powered on her rocket and raised her fist. "Silence. Give me your keys in the name of the Soviet Union."

The man sighed. "The soviet union is dead ma'am."

Yuri was about to strike him, but Penny suddenly grabbed her waist and pulled her back.

Penny moved in front of her. "Sir, I apologize for my friend. She is in much grief about the fall of the USSR."

The trucker put the gas nozzle up. "It's alright babe. I best be going now."

"BABE?!" Yuri Gagarin flared up. Literally. "You FOOL! This Penny belongs to ME!"

Startled, the trucker scampered back. "Wait! Fine, take the keys, I'm sorry!"

Yuri nodded and took them, and used the keys to unlock the back door. "Aha!"

"Oh... Oh my... Um" Yuri didnt know what to say about what she saw. "Where are you taking them?"

"C-China..." The trucker stammered.

Inside the truck were what appeared to be twenty humans wearing the yellow and white Amazon Prime uniforms, except they were lacking mouths and their heads had two colorful blue and pink horns or antenna (Yuri wasnt sure which) that were aerodynamic looking like the tail fins on the back of a plane. They curved up and swooped back. The strangest thing about them however was how they all looked pretty much the same. They all had pale skin and black hair, and the males among them were all tall and muscular. While the women were all small and slim and sleek. Every one of them had striking blue eyes that gleamed in the dark. One male was making hand motions but immediately stopped as Yuri Gagarin opened the door.

"Who... Or what... Are these people?" Yuri Gagarin asked. "How could you ship people packed in like this! Like property!"

"I honestly don't know ma'am please... I am just the driver... Amazon has my son in mandatory daycare and I had to take this job to save up for the fee to see him on weekends..."

"they have him in what?"

Penny explained because the trucker was clearly scared. "When Amazon employees complain about not having the time or money to properly care for their children, the Republic of Amazon files a statuate of neglect against them and takes their child into corporate custody. The parents can still visit their child, but it costs them a fee and the price is measured by the minute spent with them. Sometimes with a government permit the parents can get their child back, but only if they make a lawsuit about it and that is even more expensive."

The trucker started crying. "I miss my boy! Please, I know this transport is wrong but it pays well and I am saving everything to see him again! I havent eaten in three days!"

Yuri Gagarin sighed. "Typical abuse of the working class... We are clearly living in the worst timeline. So what are these people? Aliens?"

"I honestly have no idea..!" The man stammered, continuing to cry.

Penny shook her head. "They seem to have mostly human DNA. I would say they are genetically modified human beings made for servitude."

"Why don't they have mouths? How do they eat? What are those things on their heads?"

"I do not know the answers to the last two questions, Yuri my friend. But their lack of mouths is likely intended to keep in accordance with international law on the property rights on genetically modified life forms. If a creature is intelligent enough to speak like a human, it cannot be made into property. This does not apply to robots like me, because I am not a biological lifeform..." Penny added sadly. While she enjoyed her friendship with Yuri, she could not shake the fact that in her mind she was in servitude to her.

"That is rather disturbing, since they are probably just as sentient as you or me or this malnourished worker here." Yuri Gagarin said, and got up into the truck. "Hello comrades, my name is Yuri Gagarin. I believe that your time as chattel is over. Come with me, and we shall run down any who seek to oppress and exploit you. First we must make it to our secret communist headquarters, alright?"

They seemed scared by this, and backed away the best they could with how crowded it was in there. Amazon officials assigned to train these people were sure to really into the idea that any opportunity to escape was just a test, and that failing the test would result in horrible punishment. So they believed that Yuri Gagarin was just another setup to catch disloyals among them.

"Come on, let's go!" Yuri Gagarin insisted. "It is not often that I am optimistic about anything, but I am optimistic about saving you."

They did not budge.

"They are not the brightest beings in the bulb, are they Penny?"

"I think they are just scared Yuri my friend. But they are already in a big truck, why don't we just drive them there?"

"The truck could have a tracking beacon Penny."

Penny doubted that possibility. "You could be right, but my sensors do not detect one. Perhaps I could try to communicate to them that they are safe now?"

"Go ahead, but I don't know how you could do so better than me..." Yuri Gagarin moped.

Penny made a bunch of ASL hand signals to them, reassuring the people that they were safe and free to go now. She added that she was an EA-built robot unaffiliated with the corporate empire of Amazon, and so they had no reason to be afraid of her. For the most part they seemed unconvinced, because they were never taught sign language as that counted as a form of speech. The hand signals they made to each other was a simple code they made themselves, which was punishable whenever they were caught doing it.

Yuri Gagarins brief optimism about the situation seeped away. "Why does everything have go be so complicated and hard! Oh, woe is us!"

She grabbed Penny and held her for comfort. "Oh, my dear Penny! Do you see now the sins of capitalism?"

"To be fair Yuri my friend, many capitalist nations have placed an embargo on the Republic of Amazon for their treatment of their workers. And some other major companies refuse to do business with them. These genetically modified humans were on their way to a communist country anyway... So it is not merely capitalism at fault, but a few corrupt individuals who have a lot of power, and that is a recurring theme in every system. And I mean no disrepect to you by saying that!"

Yuri Gagarin held Pennys shoulders and looked at her eye to eye. She smiled. "You remind me of Freedom Sayori sometimes."

Penny frowned. "Sorry..."

"No no, I meant that as a compliment! I may dislike her beliefs, but I have... A strange respect for Sayori as a person. She is naive, but she is no hypocrite and practices the freedom and kindness she preaches."

Penny giggled. "Hehehe.. I think you like her Yuri!"

"What? No! Never!"

"We should get these people to safety now Yuri. The driver too. Even if there is a tracker, what can Amazon do against a Polendina and a Rocket Girl?"

Penny's sweet and determined smile brought some optimism back into Yuri. "You are right. I am prepared to fight for what I believe is right. Let us go, Penny, and bring some small justice to the world! Even if it is neglible in the larger picture!"

"That is the spirit Yuri!...I think..."

[opedguy]

Elon Musk Launches Himself Into U.S. History

LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com), May 26, 2020.--When NASA astronauts 49-year-old Bob Behnken and 53-year-old Doug Hurely launch on Kennedy Space Center’s Launch Pad 39A atop a SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket and Crew Dragon spacecraft tomorrow, 48-year-old SpaceX and Tesla CEO Elon Musk will make history. No private company in the history of human space-flight has produced its own rocket and spaceship, fulfilling Musk’s dream when he founded SpaceX May 6, 2002.  While it seems like 18 long years, it’s been a brief blip in space business compared to NASA when the U.S. geared up its space program Oct. 4, 1957 when the Soviet Union successfully launched Sputnik 1 into space.  Four years later, 27-year-old Soviet test pilot Yuri Gagarin was launched into space April 12, 1961 on Vostok 1, a distant descendant of Russia’s current Soyuz spacecraft.  Tomorrow Musk etches himself in U.S. space history when Crew Dragon lifts from Cape Kennedy..

            Musk’s SpaceX joins a long NASA tradition of manned space operations beginning May 5, 1961 when test pilot Alan Shepard’s Mercury Redstone 3 spacecraft lifted off at Cape Canaveral, spending 15 minutes, 27 seconds in space before splashing down off the Florida Coast with President John F. Kennedy looking on.  Shepard went on to a distinguished NASA career, commanding the Jan. 31, 1971 Apollo 14 flight to the moon, a year-and-a-half after astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landed on the moon for the first time July 20, 1969. What made NASA so special was its forward-thinking spacecraft designs, evolving from Mercury, Gemini, Apollo and finally the  Space Shuttle program. When the Space Shuttle Atlantis landed July 21, 2011, NASA hit a brick wall, having no replacement vehicle other that concept plans for an Orion spacecraft somewhere in a murky future.

   ��        Let there be no mistake, Musk has saved the U.S. space program with $2.5 billion in grants from NASA, which, by the way, awarded Boeing Space Systems $4.5 billion to develop the Starliner CST-100 spacecraft to also ferry U.S. astronauts to the ISS.  With its Dec. 20, 2019 software failure for an unmanned test flight, there’s no telling when Boeing will get back in the game.  What’s known now is that Musk has pulled off the near impossible feat of developing the Falcon 9 rocket and Crew Dragon capsule capable of ferrying seven astronauts to the ISS or to other destinations like the moon.   NASA calls tomorrow’s flight Demo-2, after Musk successfully sent a dummy inside the Crew Dragon to dock with the ISS Feb. 25, 2019.  Over one year later, it’s all systems go for Behnken and Hurley to go back to space aboard a U.S. spacecraft.  No more national humiliation paying the Russians $86 million a seat on Soyuz.

            Musk knew when he founded SpaceX that NASA had no more rabbits under its hat, no more new spaceships in the works for the foreseeable future.  It took 18 years to get to this point for Musk, who, at the time, was a 31-year-old Internet entrepreneur with big ideas and a drive like no other.  “Our country has been through a lot.  But this is a unique moment where all of America can take a moment and look at our country to do something stunning again,” said NASA administrator Jim Bridenstine today.  When Bridenstine says, “our country has been through a lot,” is he referring to the coronavirus AKA SARS CoV-2 or Covid-19 national crisis?  Or is he referring to the nine long years since the U.S. returned to manned space operations?  Bridenstine delivered some mixed messages today, saying how proud we should all be as Americans, watching the space program get back on its feet.

            Bridenstine, as NASA chief, finds himself in an awkward position because the Demo-2 Crew Dragon flight tomorrow is all about SpaceX and Elon Musk, not NASA.  “This is a unique opportunity to bring all America together in one moment in time and say, ‘Look at how bright the future is.”  That ‘s what this launch is all about,” Bridenstine said, again, not sure about his message.  Yes, hardcore space watchers will be glued to the TV tomorrow, since social-distancing from the coronavirus prevents the kinds of large crowds watching this momentous launch.  Does Bridenstine’s statement reflect the country’s degree of polarization during an election year? Or, is Bridenstine saying we all should take great pride in America returning to manned space operations? Because if that’s the case, the credit should go to SpaceX and Elon Musk for pulling off an unprecedented feat for a private space company.

            No one knows how long Demo-2 will last, not knowing when astronauts Behnken and Hurley will finish their mission on the ISIS, somewhere between six weeks and four months.  Bridenstine sees Demo-2 Crew Dragon as a test flight, getting ready for the next mission Crew-1 with NASA astronauts Michael Hopkins, Victor Glover and Shannon Walker and Japan’s Soichi Noguchi.  When that happens, assuming that Demo-2 goes smoothly, the next Crew Dragon mission will take about six-and-a-half months.  Bridenstine said it was NASA’s long-term plan to contract space vehicles out to private companies like SpaceX and Boeing. Bridesntine has big plans for NASA’s Artemis Program, landing astronauts on the South side of the moon by 2024, leaving it up to Musk or Boeing to come up with the next space vehicle.  Without admitting it, NASA no longer builds spaceships.

About the Author        

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

[eeemarvel]

Concept #72

Villain takes people hostage and tells Hero to meet their demands or else they’ll kill one every hour. The problem? Hero is asleep and has no idea this is happening.

Bonus points if they’re sleeping due to illness or injury or just plain exhaustion

@morallygreyprompts thank you <3

Victor wasn’t sure what it was about the holiday season in Spring Gate, but it was like whatever crazy dust the villains were snorting on a daily basis had suddenly and completely run out, thus driving them all insane.

Victor wasn’t sure what it was about the holiday season in Spring Gate, but it was like whatever crazy dust the villains were snorting on a daily basis had suddenly and completely run out, thus driving them all insane.

It was Christmas Eve, the day before his birthday, and he was running around town, chasing villains. Not that he minded. Snapping cuffs on villains kept his mind off of things. The move to Spring Gate. His new job as a hero. The fact that he was the only hero in America who wasn’t retired… It was all so nerve-racking, but the media couldn’t stop singing his praise.

Which only made him more nervous, because what if he screwed up? The thought constantly nagged him, even as he snapped yet another pair of nano-cuffs onto a new thief, Fanfare. The police stuffed him away into the back of a van then crowded around Victor.

“You changed your suit again!”

“Is it true you’re only twenty-two? You’re so young to be this good!”

“Where did you train?”

“Did you go to The Grand Prix Academy? My sister and I went there, so maybe we know you!”

“I heard a rumor you were a police officer!”

“That doesn’t make sense, he’s only nineteen…”

“Twenty-two!”

“No, The Weekly Cape confirmed he was twenty-three…”

“That rag?! You actually get your information from the Cape?”

“Officers,” Victor held his hands up as a kind of flimsy fence. He felt overwhelmed. “Uh, thank you so much for your service. I think I should get going now.”

“Already?!”

“Uh, well, I think something might be happening on the south side…” he fibbed, feeling attacked, and static crinkled in his ear. Saved by the Boss. He held up an apologetic finger and turned away to answer Yakov on his comm link.

“Winter. Status report,” Yakov barked.

“Fanfare has been apprehended and is in transit. Lovemary, Captain Ahab, and Juice have also been apprehended and should be touching down at Ares Island within the hour.”

“Good work. It’s almost three so you shouldn’t have too much to worry about now. Do your rounds, report back in, then you’re done.”

“Copy that,” he said and Yakov clicked out as he turned back to the officers. “Duty calls,” he said weakly as he backed away and he felt guilty when he saw their crestfallen faces. Talking to the public, even if it was just officers was still so…hard even though he’d been doing this for two years now. He jogged up a block, the wintry air barely making him shiver, and thought about how he could’ve handled that differently. Should he have made a joke? Or given them gifts? That was ridiculous. Yakov never gave civilians gifts just because… Just the idea was absurd. He tried to imagine himself carrying around a large sack of wrapped presents like a flaming fuchsia Santa, just to have handy in case anyone asked him a question he was too nervous to answer.  

At least he only had his rounds left. Taking a few leisurely laps around the city would help him to relax. He was so mentally spent. Usually, he took down about one or two four-star villains a week. Today, he’d taken down six. By himself. Was it weird to think that hero work was lonely? He couldn’t talk to his best friend after all, not after last month when he officially debuted as an international jewel thief. Why, Chris? Victor could’ve helped him… He wished Chris had talked to Victor… told him something, anything.

And what would he have told you, stupid?

What could someone like Chris tell his best friend, a hero, if he were moonlighting as a cat burglar? I’ve got sticky fingers and I need your help? Victor found himself not caring at all that Chris was a criminal, because he just wanted his friend back. He wanted to bitch and moan about how he couldn’t find the right costume even though Billy was a great if not eccentric designer. About how Yakov and Lilia were officially split up. About all the criminals in Spring Gate. About Celestino’s new hair. About how he hadn’t seen Yuri in a few weeks now. About how he was thinking of cutting his own hair and what style Chris thought would be good for him… There was so much to tell his friend and he had no idea how to even contact him.

He almost bumped into a staggering pedestrian, definitely drunk, and Victor grabbed the man’s shoulders to steady him. The man slurred Victor’s hero name adoringly as he fell against Victor’s chest.

“You all right, buddy?” Victor asked awkwardly, trying hard not to think about vomit.

“You’re the nicest man in the world,” the man blubbered into Victor’s shoulder. He was putting all his weight on Victor and he reeked of something cheap and strong. “Sooo kind…”

“I’m going to call you a taxi, ok?” And to Victor’s horror, the man burst into tears. He tried to get a better look at the man’s face around his wild bushy hair. “Uh, are you ok?!”

“Yes!”

“W-why are you crying then?”

“Because you’re so fucking nice! And you smell so nice too!”

“Ah, right then,” Victor, with some effort because the man really was leaning his entire body on him, pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed a taxi service. After making the call, he gently tried to coax the man into an upright position but he groaned and convulsed.

Victor stepped back just in time as the man was violently sick on the sidewalk. Chris, help me. He tried not to gag. He just needed to breathe through his mouth. He gently took the man’s hand to pull him away from the puddle he’d made.

“I think you should sit down,” Victor said and eased him down on to the asphalt. He held his hand out and procured a cup made of ice and filled it to the brim with water. He handed this to the man who giggled.

“Bottom’s up,” he mumbled and downed it all as if it were a shot. He gave the empty container an affronted look as if it had lied to him and he threw the ice into the street.

“Better…?”

He closed his eyes. Rested his head against the building behind him. “It’s finally quiet,” he sighed.

A few minutes later, the taxi pulled up, and Victor was afraid the man was in no position to tell the driver where he lived. His suspicions were confirmed when Victor asked only to be answered by a fit of hysterical giggles. Victor searched the man’s pockets and didn’t find a wallet or even a set of keys. He scratched his head and turned to the driver.

“Can you take him to this address?” He asked as he handed over a business card for History Maker. The headquarters weren’t official yet as it was just a small office downtown. Lilia wanted to move to a bigger space. Yakov saw no reason to and Victor agreed since he was the only hero there. In any case, Yakov would be there, and maybe the man could sleep on the couch in the waiting room until morning. He paid the taxi driver who looked put upon, gently hoisted the man into the back seat, and continued his rounds. He checked his phone.

2:50. He guessed he earned a break. He slipped into an alley to deactivate his suit and power down. He walked a block to a seven eleven to buy cheetos and an iced coffee and ignored the weird look he got from the cashier. He strolled down the dark street, thinking about how the drunk man was right–it really was quiet now– and finally found a place to sit and eat on a bus stop bench. He sighed as he sat down and a wave of exhaustion hit him.

He hadn’t realized just how fatigued he was until he sat down. His muscles felt heavy in his arms as he lifted his coffee to his lips. It was good coffee, he thought. He blinked and when he opened his eyes again, he realized he was still holding the cup to his lips. Had he taken another sip? The cup slipped in his hands and he jumped, frightened at the sudden movement. Catching it just in time, he set it down on the bench next to him. He’d drink it later… he pulled at the bag of cheetos.

Why was it difficult to open? Stupid chips. He just needed to take his time. Then they’d open for sure.

*

“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news from downtown Spring Gate where a hostage situation has broken out at a McDonald’s on sixth. We have Hisashi Morooka on the scene now. Morooka, what can you tell us?”

“Well, as you can see, West, the restaurant has been surrounded by police cars and authorities are at a stand still as the hostage taker has made demands that have not yet been made public…”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, West, but it seems that the hostage taker is a super power so our officers are exercising caution. I think we’re looking at a fire type, and I have just gotten word that there are roughly eleven hostages.”

“Any word from our heroes, Morooka?”

“Not yet. As you know, Winter Torch has had quite the Christmas Eve, cleaning up Spring Gate since early yesterday– ah, and it seems like our hostage-taker is coming out! He’s got a woman in his arms, West and–”

“WINTER! TORCH! WINTER! TORCH! COME HERE! NOOOOOOW!”

[yoyoplisetsky]

I sort of kind of forgot to put this up last week, which is a shame, because I’ve been reading a lot (working through my “tabs of shame”), so this is this week and last week’s list. I want everyone to have lots of good fics to read, so I figured a few weeks ago I’d make a list to suggest the ones I liked.  Have any suggestions for me or want to talk to me about them? Pls pls hit me up, I’m very friendly.

What I Read This Week (~6/3-6/17)

faking in secret (Ch. 1) - DefiantDreams - It gets kind of difficult when you’re simultaneously fake dating and dating in secret at the same time. Yuuri and Viktor make it work—until they don’t. (My review: Fake/secret dating au in which essa slays me again. love this!! can’t wait for more)

It’s a Sign - LittleLostStar - Five times Victor and Yuuri escalate the Silly Signs Held Up At Airport Arrival Terminals War, and one time Victor wins without using a sign at all. (My review: This is such a precious fic. Star always does the characters so well and they’re just... so cute. <3)

we’ll always have paris (Ch. 1-2) - spookyfoot - Or: the canon divergent au where Yuuri doesn't screw up Japanese Nationals, runs into Victor in the Paris airport on the way to Worlds in Sweden, and somehow embarasses himself into a relationship on the 18 hour train ride between Paris and Malmö. (My review: Wow, spooky, can you believe I finally read this? No, but, jokes aside, Paris is hilarious, and I’m so glad I’ve finally started it!!)

feel like a quote out of context (Ch. 1-3) - seventhstar - In which Yuuri accidentally insults Viktor Nikiforov in front of a crowd of reporters, only to discover that apparently being called a 'talentless hack' is what turns Viktor on. This is not how Yuuri envisioned meeting Viktor going, but hey. He'll take it. (My review: another tab of shame fic oops. Nuriiiiiii, I am so glad that I’m finally reading soft rivals, i totally understand why you love it)

Night is Young and the Music’s High - opalish - "Best press conference ever," the Japanese Nationals silver medalist says when asked. “Ten out of ten, would medal again.” "I would die for Katsuki-kun," Minami declares, with terrifying sincerity. (My review: Someone recced me this fic and I laughed the whole time I was reading it. It’s great)

God Save Yuuri Katsuki (Ch. 1-2) - belovedyuuri (casinthongs) - Let it be known that accepting the babysitting gig is definitely not the best decision in Yuuri's life. At first, at least. (My review: Ahhh, basia, i don’t know if i’ve read anything by you before, but this is great. i love yuri as a child, he’s going to kill those poor adults. i love them)

Double Vicked - Phayte - The new Fan Art came out --- Two Victor's in it! Well... Here is Yuuri being Double Dicked (Vicked) - Victor has a younger brother that looks identical to him, when he was younger --- Yuuri cannot stop lusting after him. (I put incest warning on this, but they Nikiforov brother's DON'T TOUCH each other) (My review: so, i was looking for viktor/yuuri/viktor, but i got this. it’s very well written, and close enough to that trope that i loved it.)

Midnight Salchow - Mhalachai - Yuuri is convinced he has hidden his shameful past as a writer of Viktor Nikiforov RPF. Yuuri is mistaken. (My review: i love social media fics and mistaken identities, so this thing was right up my alley, i cried laughing.)

Green - MemeKonYOI (MemeKonYA) - Yuuri has no ex partners, but he has Yuuko and Phichit, and people he describes to him as ‘lovers, I guess?’ with a sheepish expression over dinners and drinks and in hotel rooms where they’re staying together. He has kids like Minami and Yurio, with huge crushes, wanting to skate on the same ice as him, to be his equals. (My review: ahhh, another fic someone recced to me, and I adored it. It was precious, and I love oblivious heartbreaker Yuuri. Love him)

Talk To Me - Wivania - “So… You didn’t buy the Yurio needs a new phone excuse and I shouldn’t consider a career in acting after all?” or Yuuri speaks more Russian than Viktor expected. (My review: ahh, i’ve had this in my marked for later for a while now, and i loved it!!! such a cute fic of misunderstanding)

get me through the night - FullmetalChords - Victor has learned to sleep in strange places, on benches at Yubileyny, on sticky floors at the Olympic Village. He cannot, however, sleep through an endless swarm of angry hornets, not when he is sharing a bed with it. Five annoying sleep habits Yuuri and Victor have, and one time they couldn't get to sleep without it. (My review: Meggggg, this fic is also super precious oh my god I died laughing Viktor and Yuuri are so extra and they’re 100% like this thank you)

The great debate ends.. - aim7art - Viktor launches the pineapple pizza fiasco, & Yuuri's finally had enough of it~ (My review: Man, the one time i’m not on Viktor’s side for something - I love pineapple on pizza. But this was hilarious - I loved the taps to social media in it, too)

(Don’t) Ring the Wedding Bells (Ch. 1) - cuttlemefish - As (loosely) inspired by real life, this is the wedding reception AU (you didn’t ask for, but will get) in which Yuuri Katsuki catches the bride’s bouquet and (shortly after) gets smashed at a wedding reception, then dirty dances with his best friend, (sort of) seduces a (hot) platinum-haired trust-fund baby named Viktor, and ends up being hounded for his identity (by said trust-fund baby and his friends and family) on social media. (My review: tabs of shame! tabs of shame! Z, this is super cute, and I can’t wait to continue. I hear there’s a moose in store? ;))

drunk in love - spookyfoot - Victor runs a bar, Yuuri is his favorite customer. (My review: spooky, back at it again with these super cute hilarious aus. a+ spooky, a+)

What I Wrote This Week (~6/3-6/17)

off the cliff - Right before Finals, Yuuri Katsuki breaks up with Viktor, because he needs to "go home". But then Viktor catches Yuuri riding toward a dangerous cliff, where no one would dare go for recreational purposes. But Yuuri wasn't lying, he was going home. (Or: Crack was requested and I gave an angsty mermaid au)

i will go down with this ship! (Ch. 2) - Yuuri and Viktor co-star in the fantasy drama History Makers, a show where their characters Mamoru and Dimitry are shipped by all the fans, which of course leads to the fact that fans also ship Yuuri and Viktor. And write fic about it. Yuuri reads RPF by only one author, therealviknik, and leaves a comment on every single one with his account, katsukiforov. Some fans pick up on the conversations and begin to ship therealviknik with katsukiforov as well. Phichit ships it all. (Or: Fandom fic where Yuuri reads fanfiction about him and Viktor that Viktor writes but neither of them know and I’m really invested in like 3 ships and they’re all the same people)

the one i'll slay; the other slayeth me - When he moves to America, Yuuri auditions to be part of an on-ice production of Midsummer Night's Dream. He finds out that the show stars Viktor Nikiforov, and is shocked, excited and scared by that, because Viktor is his long time crush and idol. It doesn't just end there, though, because it seems the magic isn't just within the show, and there isn't just one Viktor. (Or: D O U B L E  VI K  TO R VYV do i need to say more?)

[novocaine-sea]

The first time they discover the extent of their daughter's attitude was at Leo and Guang Hong’s wedding.

Yuri didn’t even know why they had been invited in the first place; it’s not like he was ever nice to anybody. But then Leo asked Otabek to be his best man (when had they even met) so they had to go. Otabek was excited in his own special way and Ekaterina seemed excited too, considering the way she kept swishing around in her dress.

Ekaterina was three now, edging on four, and she was a firecracker. She was definitely Yuri’s child. If she didn’t get what she wanted, there would be screaming. Lots of screaming and tears and the parents would be forced to give her what she wanted. She was spoiled.

Otabek tried being strict with her, but after identical glares and the threat of tears from the younger loomed over him, he decided that being strict was not the best approach.

He still hadn’t found a good approach.

They were in the hotel room, the wedding time set for six that evening. That was two hours from now, but they had one last rehearsal and Otabek wanted to go over his best man’s speech.

“Where did you meet Leo again?” Yuri asked for probably the twentieth time since they had gotten the invitation and RSVPed.

Otabek sighed and crinkled the paper in his hand nervously. “We shared a rink in America.”

“Right.” Yuri said, tugging Katya’s dress down as she tugged it up curiously.

“You can’t do that baby.” He advised.

Katya pouted, dark brows pinching together as she did so. Piercing green eyes filled with annoyance, definitely a look she got from Yuri himself. “Why?” She asked.

Yuri grabbed the comb from where it was sitting on the mattress and hoisted her into his lap, trying his best to comb through her unruly curls. Neither Yuri nor Otabek knew where her thick waves of dark brown hair had come from, considering Yuri’s hair was fair against the light and although Otabek was a brunette, his hair was nowhere near as thick as his daughter’s.

“It’s not nice to pull your dress up in front of others.” Yuri taught her as he tried not to rip her hair out with the comb.

Ekaterina crossed her arms over her chest and the pout intensified. “Why?”

Yeah, she was in that stage.

Otabek knelt down in front of her and took up both of her hands, kissing them. “It’s rude, princessa. Do you want people to see your underwear?”

“No...” She said quietly. She never questioned Otabek. If she did, it was only during a tantrum. Her ‘whys’ were saved for Yuri.

“Then the dress stays down.” Otabek stated firmly and Katya just let out a dramatic sigh, letting Yuri pull her hair back into a tight ponytail. The dress was a pale blue color, matching Otabek’s best man vest and tie. Yuri was simply dressed in all black; when Otabek had suggested a navy tuxedo, he had cringed so hard Otabek thought he pulled something.

Brings back too many memories, Yuri had said. He was speaking of the one legendary banquet from the GPF almost ten years ago. He would never forgive Yuuri or forget no matter how hard he tried.

Once the trio was all ready to go they made their way to the banquet hall. Yuri kept a tight grip on Katya’s hand as she had a bad habit of wandering off when something caught her eye. Or sometimes she did it for fun to give Yuri a heart attack. It was fine.

There rehearsal went well and without any mishaps, thankfully. Yuri spent most of it trying to avoid JJ and his wife Isabella. Seriously, who had invited them? He couldn’t avoid Victor though, who held onto his newborn son like a prize. Newborn was perhaps not the right word; the child was nearing one years old now, being born days apart from Katya. 

Yuri always made sure to outdo their birthday parties though, even when Victor suggested they have joint ones.

Once the ceremony was over and everybody wiped tears from their eyes as Leo and Guang Hong exchanged vows (Phichit was full on sobbing beside Guang Hong and Yuuri had to nudge him to keep him quiet), they moved onto the reception.

That’s where the real party began.

The Altin family stayed in the corner, Yuri sipping a champagne flute while Otabek sat with Katya in his lap, keeping her occupied with his phone. He let her take pictures of anything (mostly Yuri) and played a game that he downloaded for her. Yuri was scrolling through instagram, clicking through his notifications since he had posted a picture of them with the caption “#leojiwedding.” It was blowing up, naturally.

“Yuri-chan! Otabek!” The familiar annoyance that was Jean-Jacques Leroy called out to them. Yuri audibly groaned and Otabek chose to ignore him, focusing on his daughter instead.

“How come you’re all the way in the corner?” JJ pouted with a huff as he fell into the chair besides Yuri. Katya lifted her head to eye the new stranger curiously.

“Get out of here, you bastard.” Yuri glared at him. 

JJ grinned, “Aw, Yuri, that’s no fun!” He turned his attention to Otabek. “Otabek, come dance! You can bring your daughter too! Hi sweetie.” He waved at Katya.

And Katya shocked both of her parents by glaring and sticking her tongue out at JJ, calling him and idiot and stupid in Russian. 

Yuri burst into laughter, bringing Katya into his lap and kissing her head, telling her how proud he was. Otabek was mortified and was grateful that JJ didn’t know a lick of Russian, as the look of confusion on his face proved.

“What did I do to deserve that?” JJ asked.

Yuri grinned. “Everything. Now leave us alone.”

Katya looked at JJ and stuck her tongue out again. JJ gaped and slowly backed off into the crowd, most likely to go cry to Isabella.

“Yuri, what did you do?” Otabek hissed to him.

Yuri was still grinning as he pressed a kiss into Katya’s hair. “I told her that we didn’t like JJ and whenever she saw him that she should be mean to him. She actually listened to me too.” He bounced her and she giggled, matching his grin.

Otabek placed his face in his hands and exhaled. “Yuri...”

“I tried to get her to do the same with Victor and Katsudon but she likes them for some reason. They’re so annoying, why would she ever!” Yuri shook his head, looking out onto the dance floor where Victor was still clutching his son, but was taking turns dancing with him and Christophe. Yuuri watched from the side, whispering with Phichit, holding a glass. Yuri prayed that it was water.

“You can’t do that!” Otabek said and then looked his daughter in the eye. “Ekaterina, you cannot be mean to that man again, okay? That isn’t very nice.”

Katya studied him for a moment before she turned her nose to him. “No.”

Otabek’s face fell. “No what?”

“Daddy told me to be mean and I listen to daddy.”

“You have to listen to the both of us!”

“I can’t be mean and nice at the same time!” Katya argued and fell back into Yuri’s chest.

“You need to be nice all the time.” Otabek explained, trying to lower his voice.

“No!” Katya screeched, kicking her way from Yuri’s grip. She was then darting off, just like she loved to do. She ended up on the dance floor and bumped right into Leo and Guang Hong, the former lifting her up into his arms with a smile. 

Otabek was going to go after her but Yuri touched his arm, leaning into him. “Let her cool down.”

“You’re the one who made her this way.” Otabek said but wrapped an arm around his husband.

Yuri smirked, “I did no such thing.”

More Otayuri parents

[thissupposedcrime]

what do dmitry, alexi, and pyotr look like?? i'm v curious

Anon I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this question. I love you.

In Chapter 8/9 Yuri will meet Dmitry and that’s where I planned to detail his appearance but no one ever asked me about my OCs before so hot damn IMMA SAY A LOT ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCES AND RANDOM HEAD CANONS I COULD NOT FIT IN THE STORY.

Below are appearances (and other story details!) for Dmitry, Alexi, and Pyotr.

Dmitry (18, DOB 1/15/2006)

Name: Vershinin Dmitry Ruslanovich 

When he’s sick or Alexi is pleased, he occasionally calls him Dima

Height/body: 165 cm/5’5 (never grows taller). His legs are especially well defined but he appears more skinny than firm, almost waif-ish. In the off season, he sometimes appears scrawny, despite the fact he’s swallowing down as much food as possible. He doesn’t retain the weight. 

Eyes: Hazel (tinted more brown than green). They’re wide-set and rather large so Dmitry is an expert at the puppy dog look. It does not work on anyone who knows him longer than five minutes.

Nose: Pert and cute, has a few freckles sprinkled across it

Hair: Chestnut brown that, in certain lighting, gets mistaken for a dull red. Typically it is short and messy, as Dmitry is shit at caring for long hair and gets annoyed when it flies in his face. Currently he’s rocking a look like this (top photo). He likes using products in his hair because it stops the old ladies from ruffling it.

Face: Regardless of his age, there will always be an element of baby-face to Dmitry, slightly rounded at the cheeks, that makes him appear adorable instead of classically handsome. People will call him cute, not sexy, but he is good looking to many.

Smile: Very bright and full, always looks like he’s glowing when he smile. He frequently bites at his lips, so they’re normally reddish.

Complexion: His complexion is tanner than Alexi’s, so it’s a very ‘healthy tan’ sort of thing, even when sick. 

Other details:

Originally, during his junior career, his hair was longer. Dmitry’s an idiot who tried dyeing streaks of blue in his hair using a home kit. Unsurprisingly, it went badly and, to allow the damaged parts of his hair to recover, he chopped off most of it, but grew to like the shorter styles. Once he tried to rock a pompadour but Alexi refused to stand next to him when they walked down the street.

He’s spent his life climbing Alexi like a jungle gym and using his appearance to get away with murder. Unlike Yuri, whose cute looks mean no one takes his threats of rage seriously, Dmitry cared more about sneaking into places during dares or begging for another cookie.

He basically retains the body Yuri wishes he kept during his pro career, short and flexible, but lacks the work ethic of Yuri. Yuri not so secretly despises Dmitry for this reason.

For his part, one of Dmitry’s first introductions to Yuri Plisetsky is seeing him inadvertently concuss Pyotr when he throws his phone, so, from the start, the fear of God had been put into Dmitry, furthered once he saw Yuri’s terrifying Dance Mom and Unholy Beast Boyfriend.

Both Dmitry and Yuri are super fucking dramatic but Yuri’s is rage and pretending to hate everything while Dmitry is woe-is-me and complicated dares no one should complete.

Two older sisters (six and four years older than him, married and in college respectively), father frequently in America for business so it’s usually just him and his mother.

Best friends with Alexi since they were eight. His mother loves Alexi most (but Dmitry understands).

Honestly Dmitry’s probably lived this long because of Alexi. 

Alexi (17, DOB 5/22/2006)

Name: Rezansov Alexi Stepanovich

Dmitry is not allowed to give him pet-names.

Career: Still in Juniors, usually works with assistant coaches but Yakov looks forward to his planned debut in 2025. 

Delayed in senior level due to early puberty. Once he regained his skills, his progress was sacrificed when he lost a year due to an ugly accident. 

Height/body: 177 cm/5’10. The pinnacle of an athletic body, Alexi is long-legged, tone armed, and broad shouldered, meaning he easily navigates crowds that flock to him. Despite being younger, he has always been taller than Dmitry, who has been known to hide behind him during blustery weather conditions. Alexi is naturally active and mobile, a morning person who does not need coffee to keep his limbs under control.

Eyes: Gray eyes, frequently appear blue. Almond shaped eyes that naturally lift in the corner. He’s very sensitive to makeup so he refuses eyeliner. Luckily he has thick lashes so it isn’t often an issue he fights coaches with.

Nose: His nose was broken in the accident mentioned above and required minor surgery to repair when it didn’t heal properly, so he has a small scar, difficult to see if you’re not peering at him. Before the accident, it was very straight, with a pointed tip. Still sits well on his face.

Hair: Sandy brown, slightly wavy and smooth textured. He prefers clean-cuts and typically sticks with staples, like a classic crew cut. Whenever his hair grows out, Dmitry is on high alert because Alexi takes pride in being well trimmed. 

By March 2024 it has grown slightly longer, enough that strands are starting to fall in his face if he doesn’t style it.

Face: Much to Dmitry’s chagrin, it is uniformly agreed upon that Alexi is handsome. People (fangirls) have called him sculpted or chiseled. Square jawed, well proportioned features.

When sick, Dmitry goes on the fan forums and fights people who say.

Smile: Pale pink but full lips. He’s more of a smirk or smaller, sincere smile type than toothy grins like Dmitry. Has been accused of having resting-bitch-face, even when winning gold, so smiles are usually saved for his family or moments Dmitry isn’t giving him heart palpitations because he’s PLAYING IN TRAFFIC OH MY GOD STOP. Straight, pearly white teeth. 

Complexion: Pale, but not unhealthily so. Inherited from his mother’s fair coloring and complexion. Smooth skinned because, although puberty betrayed him in giving him so many inches in such a short time, acne wasn’t that bad. 

Other details:

Even before his accident, Alexi was the most likely to understand skating isn’t forever and has considered leaving before his body breaks down to attend college, prepare for another career.

No dramatic backstory, they met in elementary school and were only surprised not to have met sooner. 

Alexi is better at remembering the names of people’s spouses/children and recent events but Dmitry is better at socializing, especially with strangers.

Is both the youngest and most responsible of the skaters currently working with Yakov and his assistant coaches. 

Only child of a florist and an accountant. He has a good relationship with his parents but that didn’t stop Dmitry’s family from basically kidnapping him and making them one of their own. 

Dmitry is offended whenever Alexi claims to be an only child. You have two sisters. 

Besides Yakov, he’s probably the only one to realize Dmitry and Yuri are somewhat alike.

Pyotr (20, DOB 9/4/2004)

Name: Sonin Pyotr Aleskeevich

Called Petya by his girlfriend

Called ‘how are you alive right now?’ by everyone else

Career: Senior Male Figure Skater 2021-2024, moves on to Ice Dancing with girlfriend/future wife 2025-2029

Height/Body: 173cm/5’8. Everyone is confused that Mila is able to pick up Pyotr because he seems huge, more of his bulk on his upper level (strong arms) than legs. Muscular. He has a long neck that does nothing in warning him of danger. Pyotr is surprisingly light. 

Eyes: Dark brown eyes, spaced evenly apart from his nose. There’s nothing remarkable about them. Instead, people comment on the dark circles under Pyotr’s eyes, seemingly permanent. Whenever he loses a girlfriend or gets stressed over competitions, Pyotr defaults to watching cheerful foreign musicals, meaning he never sleeps.

Nose: snub-nosed (shorter, seemingly flat) but it works well on him, as his face isn’t overly long. 

Hair: Naturally curly and thick in a platinum blonde color. He typically keeps it loose and has been caught on tape confessing the length, well past his shoulders, makes headbanging to music better.

Face: Oval shaped, a few scars from acne along the side but easily hidden by makeup. Occasionally, while injured, he has been told he has a face only a mother could love. Isn’t considered handsome or ugly but things would be helped if people would stop hitting him so the swelling could go down.

Smile: He has a gap between his two front teeth, but smiles easily and happily. Unlike Dmitry, who sinks into moods, Pyotr actively works to keep up a cheery disposition. Has dimples.

Complexion: Typically ruddy due to the cold and time on the ice, but in the off season he loses a lot of the redness and rawness in his cheeks. 

Other details:

Does a lot of stupid shit like Dmitry, but is more a victim of circumstance than a perpetrator. 

Lacks an Alexi of his own to keep him in line or give him credibility when he has a good idea. People should listen to him more, but he becomes a joke character.

All concussions have come from other people (Yuri, Mila)

Although his love life is a joke, he is the one most consistently in a relationship and will soon fall in love with an ice dancer named Valentina and marry her. First to have a wife and family

Choreographs a lot of his own programs and specializes in artistry rather than complex moves.

Oldest of three, with a younger brother and sister. His aunt was a skater so he’s especially close to her.

Thank you anon who asked me about these losers. Please feel free to prompt me with questions or ideas.

Story: soldier boy, tripping over himself to win my praise