#anyways seems media might just not care about russians | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spidersbane · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I get MCU, The Hobbit, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. ship? 💚

Appearance: She/her. 179,5cm tall, rectangle body shape. Fair skin complexion with quite a few birthmarks. Dyed brown with honey-red highlights, shoulder-length, straight hair with bangs. The left eye is a mix of two colors – a smaller portion of (darker) greyish-blue and a larger portion of hazel; while the right eye is just a (lighter) greyish-blue. Heptagon face shape with two dimples on the left cheek and one on the right cheek (only visible while smiling). A gap between the upper front teeth.

Personality (good and bad traits): Ever since I was a kid, I was always quite mature for my age – I identify myself as an old soul. I come off as polite and well-mannered to strangers, yet I tend to keep it to myself by being reserved. But, that’s because I have social anxiety and I’m nervous and shy when meeting/talking to people. The only people I’m comfortable with being with my inner circle – closest friends and family. I am usually more “open” with my friends than with my family. With my friends I can be my “truest-self” – I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more accepted and understood. I am the mom and the fashionista of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely protective of my family, especially of my mother and younger sister. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, Cinderella who’s been taken advantage of. I express my affection for the people I care about in little, but practical, ways. I can be a little stiff when it comes to open, gushy displays of affection. Others turn to me for help and advice. I’m kind-hearted and generous, always ready to help a person in need. Always have been motherly towards children. Very awkward at keeping small talk (usually with people that I’m not that close with). Absolutely, hate speaking in front of a public, and if I do, because of my nervousness, I tend to mess up my words and/or I practice whatever I’m about to say in my head at first. I appreciate the simplicity and am often most comfortable when I’m not getting too much attention from the world. I am sensitive – both to criticism and to others’ feelings (I sponge up the feelings and moods of people and the environment around me). Have a hard time saying no or expressing my true thoughts, feelings. I get influenced by other people’s opinions/thoughts quite hard (I take everything to the heart), that is why I tend to keep a lot to myself (may come off as a little bit tense, secretive, mysterious). I avoid the harsh reality by daydreaming (almost every day) – imagining myself in situations far from my current circumstances. Sort of like a self-escape. I worry a lot and overthink almost everything. I am easily distracted and my attention span can be quite short. I have an internal struggle between my needs and wants. I can lack focus and be indecisive as a result – when I decide on one route, I am pulled in another direction at the same time (“But what if…”, “on the other hand...”). That is why I’m having a bit of a struggle with deciding what I want to do in the future (career-wise). I am easily overwhelmed by pressure and stress. There is a self-destructive side to me (self-critical, lack of self-confidence) that I’m working on by confronting my fears (coming out of my shell). Don’t like taking pictures, or other people taking pictures of me. I feel most content when I’ve straightened out all the details of everyday life. I have a routine, that I follow by mostly every day, and if something small changes in that routine, I start to have a small internal anxiety attack. Also, I like to do things my own way, like, when it comes to cleaning the house or organizing stuff, etc. I get triggered even if people don’t do the laundry the way I do. I guess you could describe me as a perfectionist, clean/control freak. In triggering situations I can be impulsive, spontaneous, quick to act. Quick flare-ups of anger/annoyance when being provoked on my patience. Even when I’m feeling low, I manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever I do have. Although I tend to bottle things up, I am an emotional person and my emotions are genuine – I love and care deeply and passionately and wish no ill will upon anyone, yet it hards for me to imagine someone falling in love with me or just liking me.

Hobbies, likes: My hobbies are cleaning, writing (re-writing song lyrics, making small notes, writing stories), listening to any type of music, catching up on my favorite films and TV shows, hanging out with friends, going to the cinema, or the club, being out in nature, reading, traveling. I like history, cooking, fashion magazines (or fashion in general), road trips, spirituality, mythology, books, orange juice, previous decades, cottage-core, dark academia.

Overall: Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-sexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. “Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. That’s it, thank you!

hey @pataim ! thanks so much for sending in your request, and thank you so much for your honesty about yourself. like it takes a lot to air yourself out like that, and I admire your strength for it. but also fINALLY a 'Man from U.N.C.L.E' ship! I love that movie and attempt Illya's accent all the time, so this will be fun :)

For the MCU/Marvel - I ship you with Steve Rogers/Captain America !

no one can tell me that Steve doesn’t have a set routine honestly, so let me just get that out there

he seems intimidating at first, esp as a public figure and Avenger, but Steve is nothing but passionate about what he does. so it may clash w your lack of direction, but I could honestly see him envying that a lil bit, like it’s not that you don’t have direction, it’s the fact that you still have a choice in the matter.

your love of history put you in a museum, here you bumped into Steve in a horrible disguise. he struck up the conversation first, and once you got past the whole “holy crap that’s Captain America”, you could actually engage with him in the material and boi was he smitten

he would love to join you when your rewatched your fave things, bc not only is he catching up on more media he missed out on, he’s also getting to know your interests in a way that’s comfortable with you. it avoids all the small talk, but leaves room for discussion after the film/show !

since you tend to sponge up a lot of what other people believe, it’s totally Steve who actually tries to question what you think and what you feel about things. he’s someone who encourages you to have your own opinions and to stay true to those thoughts. so while with him, you can rely on him to learn about yourself, you also gain skills for independence

overall, Steve is super patient, and despite his chaotic job as Cap, he takes comfort in his routine, and would find comfort incorporating a partner’s routine into his life. and as you grow in a relationship with him, he’s patient about teaching you how to be your own person, and helping you learn more about yourself. and while it’s uncomfortable, you grow stronger throughout being with him :)

For The Hobbit - I ship you with Bilbo Baggins !

Bilbo is the definition of introvert, and you're right there with him

not that introversion is ever a bad thing, bc it isn't. but Bilbo is quite content to sit in his little hobbit hole and vibe. like Gandalf had to come find him, ya know. dude disappeared from his own bday.

but anyways. it's not that Bilbo lacks purpose, it's just that he's more content with a quieter life. and it seems like his quiet life would balance you out well! like the Shire is so so chill, and there doesn't really seem to be a lot of pressure on the hobbits to pick a profession. like they just genuinely do what needs to get done.

similarly, Bilbo is the type who seems a little bothered by mushy displays of affection. exhibit a: disappearing from his own bday. like he's much more the type to refill your tea when y'all are reading by the fireplace, which he would totally do w you

it will probs take you a little while to warm up to each, given just how introverted you both are. but when he explains that he has set ways of doing things, then if they're compatible w your ways of doing things, then it doesn't take you long to open up to him

like it'll be a little jarring, but he takes comfort in his routines too. and it'll be an event trying to incorporate both of your ways of life together, but he's willing to do it

overall, yours is a very quaint partnership, built on deep respect for one another. neither of you are going to push the other to do things you aren't into. and y'all just live your best lives together tbh :)

For The Man From U.N.C.L.E - I ship you with Illya Kuryakin !

I love my big Russian spy so much, so this is fun for me

so Illya is the epitome of reserved and generally quiet, so it might take a while to really break down his walls and talk to him. and he's not quite sure what to do with you once you join the team

but, he's playing his game of chess alone, and when you sit down and ask to play with him, he opens up a little more after that

if you're one who get sent out on mission with the team, get ready, bc sometimes those missions require a lot of improvising. but you'd probably be at whatever 'base' was, helping run operations from a more secure place. but Illya and Napoleon improvise a lot, leading to a lot of headaches for you and Waverly

Illya has small bursts of anger, but similar to Gaby, most times, you can intervene and he doesn't get violent. or when he does, he tries to make sure it isn't in front of you. but bc you care so deeply for him, you're there for him in the aftermath. and that's how you show your love for him.

by patching him up if he gets cut, by talking him down when he's angry. and just generally trying to take care of him. and he totally does the same for you, especially if you get sent out into the field

and much to Illya's dismay, Solo doesn't refrain form making jokes about you. but if you can take them in stride, then Solo welcomes you into the team just as well :)

25 notes · View notes

lesbian-dp · 4 years

Text

A Shocking Turn Of Events

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 1,878

Warnings: A/B/O/, strap on sex, breeding kink, I think that may be it... other than idk what I’m doing with this stuff lol.

Request: Yee.

Summary: Your first rut in ten months goes better than you could have hoped for.

A/N: I’ve changed it up some. Bc I don’t feel comfortable writing a smaller reader and stuff. Hope you don’t mind! Also. I have done research for this... but I’m still rlly new to all of this stuff. So, just keep that in mind.

Ko-Fi

18+ ONLY.

***

Sometimes she didn't understand you. Well... in reality, she didn't understand how you were an Alpha. More so, how you were her Alpha.

With how stead-fast and hard she was.

And how goofy and the ball of light you were.

It's not as if Natasha was the only one who thought that. Anyone who knew of you thought the very same. It was all over the tabloids the day the media found out you were an Alpha.

It was even worse when Steve had accidentally let it slip that Natasha was an Omega. And that you two were newly dating.

Man, he was a blabber-mouth that day.

That was seven months ago and you and Natasha were still going strong. Stronger than ever actually.

Even with the playful discussion you and she were having right now.

"I'm just saying," Natasha spoke with a smile, "You don't seem like the type to be an Alpha."

"Do you know how many Alphas are like me?"

"Well, stereotypically then."

You threw your head back, laughing.

"I mean, come on!" she continued, moving her hands to gesture to herself, "I should have been the Alpha out of us two."

"Well, considering we're going off of stereotypes here. Little you, being an Alpha? I can't see it," you chuckled.

"Oh, shut up."

"Not to mention you're a bottom."

"I said "shut up"!" Natasha yelled, playfully throwing a cushion at you.

You caught the fluffy pillow easily, with one hand, just before it collided against your face. Her outburst causing you to boom out with laughter.

"You may be the top. But you're not dominant like most Alphas are."

"I thought you liked that about me," you said from your spot laying almost haphazardly on your bed, watching as Natasha slowly started to make her way out of the room.

"I love that about you," Natasha turned to say, "But once in a while, I wouldn't mind being fucked within an inch of my life."

Your jaw dropped as she left your room. Leaving you, and the pang in between your legs, to deal with her words, smirk, and swaying hips.

You were sure she was going to be the death of you.

***

It had been almost ten months since your last rut. Those higher dosage pills Dr Cho had given you, really worked the trick. It's not that you didn't want your rut, but you had a job to do. A very important job to do. And you thought it would be best if your rut wasn't there every three months.

And oh, God. It had been a while since your last one. So, when you woke up this morning and felt how that "weird feeling" you had throughout the whole previous day, was suddenly stronger, and more recognizable as to what it truly was.

Your rut was well on its way.

And right now. It was annoying you. To. No. End.

"Why do you have a cushion on your lap?" Bucky asked amused, pulling your attention away from the TV, "It's not like you're gonna hide anything anyway."

"How about you shut the fuck up, Barnes?"

Natasha squeezed and rubbed at your shoulder, from where she sat next to you on the arm of the sofa, hoping that her mannerisms would get you to calm down somewhat.

"Oo-oo-oh. Someones testy." You snapped your head around to glare at Tony. But before you could say any remark to the billionaire, he continued to speak, "But I do agree with Y/N, here. Just because she can't hide anything with that cushion, doesn't mean it's not comforting for her."

"Wow, Tony... I think that may be the most caring sentence I've ever heard you say," Steve said.

"Yeah, thanks, Tony."

"No problem, Y/N/N. Anything I can do to keep the big bad Winter Soldier off your ass."

The proffered man laughed sarcastically, before ripping off his Wakandan made metal arm, without even flinching. And flinging it at Tony, successfully hitting him in the face with it.

"Okay!" Natasha called out, raising her hand, that was not upon your shoulder, to stop the bickering men-children. "Knock it off, boys. You're not helping the situation right now."

"Fight me, Barnes!"

"Come at me, Tin-Man!"

"Right! That's not happening!" Natasha yelled out, jumping up, grabbing your arm, and tugging you with her.

You listened to the semi-playful squabble play out behind you, as your girlfriend dragged you towards the elevator, and undoubtedly to your room.

***

Four hours later, and you were still in the same place as when Natasha had pushed you into your room, laying on your bed, all sprawled out, staring at the ceiling, and groaning lowly. The red-head watching you from the chair by your desk, with a small smile on her face at your childish response to your incoming rut.

"You know you're not the only one going through this stuff, you know?" Natasha points out, " Because of you going through your rut, it's triggered my heat."

"Yeah, but your suppressants are different from mine. You don't have all of your pre-heat bullshit," you whined.

"I'm just licky, I guess." She smirked.

"'I'm just licky, I guess'," you mimicked Natasha's words, making your voice an octave or two higher. Which was counterproductive, considering her voice was husky.

"I do not sound like that!"

"'I do not sound like that'."

That still didn't stop you though, did it?

"You're an asshole."

"'You're an asshole'."

"I will kill you," Natasha grit out.

"'I will-"

Yeah...

That might not be the best thing for you to do.

At least you caught yourself before you finished your sentence. Glancing at Natasha, then instantly directing your eyes away from her.

Before she actually killed you.

Natasha watched you for a few silent moments. Her lips up turning in a small smile when you suddenly groaned again.

"Okay you, big baby." The red-head moved around the bed to lay by your side, on the small amount of space you had left from being sprawled out on the bed. "It will hit soon."

You let out a concealed grumble at her words, closing your eyes just as Natasha began rubbing your shoulder and upper chest.

"Do we have everything we need?"

"Yeah." She nodded, lovingly kissing your cheek. "We have some water and snacks in here. And Thor said that he will leave some more outside the door whenever we need." She pats at your chest. "And the strap is ready-and-roaring to go. All we need is for your rut and my heat to hit."

"Yeah," you said hotly under your breath.

Natasha noticed the light sheen to your skin. That, paired with your heated breath, sounding like you had just finished a heavy workout. And the tingle that ran up her spine, her body starting to rock up against yours, breathing picking up mimicking yours.

"It's not gonna be long now," you continued. Turning your head, eyes locking onto Natasha's lustful ones. Yours, assuredly, the exact same watching the Russian nod lightly, "A few minutes at most."

You closed your eyes inhaling deeply, basking in the feeling of Natasha's soft lips against the side of your neck.

The next time you opened your eyes, they were fully blown with lust. So black that you could barely see the small ring of your eye colour around them.

Your rut had finally hit.

Turning to face Natasha once again, to make sure that she was in the same state as you, and by the way her eyes mirrored yours, you knew she was. You glanced down to her lips, then back up to her eyes. Asking for permission, even if you already knew the answer. You got it anyway. And you sealed the deal to your next few days, with a passionate kiss.

***

Natasha was moaning underneath you. Sounding like a wanton whore with all the cries she was letting out.

And you were only just starting to fuck her with your knotted strap.

"My God, I don't think I've ever seen you this wet before."

You could feel every rock you made, thanks to the toy curving inside of you.

The red-head panted below you, her hips gyrating against yours chasing her fast-approaching release.

"Fuck," you hissed into Natasha's ear, causing a shiver to travel down her spine, "Are you close already? It hasn't even been five minutes yet."

She moaned. "I just can't help it. You feel so good inside of me. I don't think I'll ever be able to get enough of you."

"Well, that's a good thing," you stated in a growl, as you kept pushing Natasha towards her first release, "Because I'm not stopping any time soon."

***

Hours later, dawn was just beginning to break, and Natasha was on the brink of her umpteenth orgasm. You didn't know how many she had already experienced. It could have been five, ten- God damnit, it could have been twenty-five. But that wasn't what mattered right at this moment. What truly mattered was the girl riding you like she would die if she didn't.

“Aww, baby, look at you," you cooed, passing your thumb over her puffy kiss swollen lips, rubbing the tears streaming down her cheeks into the parched, tender skin. "You're crying and still riding me just like I told you to do. I bet you’re tired, aren't you? All worn out from cumming over and over. But you’re still a good girl. You’ll give me one last orgasm, won't you?"

"Yes. Yes, Alpha, I will."

"That's my good girl."

“Oh, Y/N. I’m gonna come!”

“Do it,” you husked, “Do it. Come on my cock.”

Natasha screamed at your words, but you could tell she was close, but just couldn’t slip off the edge. Grabbing her hips, you pushed forward, so that Natasha’s head lay on the end of the bed. You started fucking into her, cocking your hip, to hit a pleasurable spot inside of her.

Natasha grabbed the sides of your jaw, pulling you down to her level. Wrapping her arms around your neck kissing you passionately.

"Fuck. I'm gonna breed you. Gonna fill that tight little pussy up to the hilt with my come, you want that don't you? You little slut?"

Even though that wasn't possible, you sure liked to talk like it was. And, so it seemed, Natasha did too.

"Yes! Please give it to me!"

You were so lucky that your bed had yet to break under the pressure of your thrusts. Even now, as you worked harder into your girlfriend, the bed took the pounding like a champ. And so did Natasha. It was almost like she was made for this.

For you to be able to hold.

To fuck.

To love.

You came a few seconds before she did, as you rode out your high, you brought Natasha to hers. Yet you still had enough mind to push further into her. So that the knot was buried deep within her, giving in to her craving that she had since her heat broke.

The red-head chuckled lightly while you peppered kisses across her neck, chest, and shoulders, a few minutes later.

"What's so funny?"

"You really did fuck me within an inch of my life then."

***

Perminant Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95

#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

597 notes · View notes

bxllafanficc · 3 years

Text

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part six)

Part one. Masterlist!

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Your POV*

(Next morning)

"A-achooo!"

You jolted out of your sleep when the loud sound hit you. Half-asleep, you fumbled after a potential threat and thrashed with your legs to get out of bed. Your eyes weren't even open yet and you heard a shocked shriek from Magnolia before something skipped across the sheets and disappeared. You threw the blanket off you, threw yourself to the left to shake it away and-

*Thud*

Ow. You opened your eyes, finally. There was no attack, obviously. If your dream hadn't been about being the captain of a pirate ship as you were in the middle of getting attacked by the Englishmen, there would've been no reason to react that way, you thought. The loud sound was the sound of a canon ball about to hit you, you'd figured. You let the impact of the floor stone you and you just laid there, thinking of what you were currently doing with your life; too tired to move.

"...(Y/n)? Did you- ... Are you dead?"

Hmmm, wait. Yuri, r-right. He saw that totally.

You rose to your knees and slowly peeked over the bedside, upon Yuri's weary gaze. Only your eyes were visible of course. No point in giving him the chance to see your red tainted cheeks after such an embarrassing act.

"(Y/n). What... are you doing?" His voice thick and dry, almost hoarse. He looked at you with his eyes barely widened. You then noticed how awfully colorless his skin was. Well, except for the redness around the base of his nose. Heavy bags under his eyes displayed on his features as well.

"What in the- Well you seem to have had a rough night, Plisetsky." It wasn't particularly an insult. He did look like the ceiling had been falling in on him and as if he had no choice to carry it the entire night. Yuri gave you a snort and leaned back in his bed.

"Shut up, Duchess."

You picked up your fallen blanket and placed it on top of the bed as you eyed the skater. Then the feeling of Magnolia bumping his head against your leg made you look down and sigh.

"Yeah whatever, Punk." You cradled the large cat in your arms and scratched his chin. 'Sorry, darling. I'll make it up to you...' You whispered in the cat's ear and kissed the top of his head. A purr started drumming from his belly but was quickly drowned out by another loud sneeze and a cough right after.

'Oh my, he isn't... Right?' You thought and the Russian boy sniffled harshly. Even Magnolia gave you a 'What's the matter with him?' look. You made your way to his bed and was met with swimming eyes. Even the stunning shade of blue and sea green had faded slightly and had been replaced with a grayish contrast.

"Yuri... Did you get sick from the waterfall yesterday?" You placed the back of your hand against his forehead and the heat hitting you almost made you retract it immediately. That, however, was done anyway by Yuri briskly swatting your hand away with a groan.

"'M fine!" He's burning up with a fever and he's laying here, lying straight to your face while looking close to passing out any minute. Another sneeze and you had decided what to do next.

"I'm calling Yakov that there will be no training for the following days. You get rested."

"No! I-I don't have such time! I'll practice anyway!" He sat up immediately and bore his gaze into you. You assumed that it was meant to be seen as fierce and energetic but it more looked like the kind of stare a drunk person trying to stare his way through solving a math-problem. You gently but firmly laid a hand on his chest at the intention to hold him back from straining himself any further. His gaze met yours with newfound shock and you ignored the feeling of a loud *thump* pulsing through your hand from inside his chest. A slight stutter was heard before you pushed him back down onto the mattress and held him still for a moment. 'Stay.' Was the message that thankfully got through.

"Rest and I'll be back soon, okay? You're not doing anything until you've recovered." Your words were stern but only a nod was seen from the boy as his eyes were intensely fixated upon your hand holding him down. Just then you noticed the rest of his face had turned red and damp from sweat as well, almost sure that it hadn't been there before. 'Oh no, his body turned hotter just now and his heart is beating out of his chest. Better get him some breakfast and call Yakov immediately before he dies or something.' And with that, you left the room and headed towards the kitchen.

You were making some hot chicken soup on the stove when Victor made his way into the hall and saw you, immediately stopping to see what you were up to.

"Smells delicious (Y/n). What are you making? Can I try?" He peeked above your shoulder and gasped lightly. Your shoulders were cradled by his arms from behind and he pushed his weight onto you, causing you to stumble.

"Pleaseeee?"

"Okay, okay! But just a spoon, alright? It's to Yuri." Victor sheered and waved at Yuuri as he as well now joined them in the kitchen. Next moment a spoon was dipped into the soup and the man started fussing about how great it tasted. He then made Yuuri try it as well meanwhile he stood beside you, taking low.

"A soup only to Yuri, huh? I'd say you're growing rather fond of him at this point. Is it 'made with love' as well?"

"Yuri's come down with a fever from yesterday's adventure. I cancelled his practice with Yakov for the rest of the week. Meanwhile, he said Yuri should think about choosing his music and a possible theme for his skating program this year so Yakov can go ahead and choreograph it in time for his return. Maybe you could help him with the theme and all that? I think he'd appreciate a little push into the right mind of thinking."

Victor fell silent and scratched the top of his head as he stared into the soup. You were heading to grab some red shiny apples and rinsed them under the water flow of the sink.

"How unfortunate that he'll have to postpone his practicing like that... Of course I'll help! Though, it's still a little suspicious of you nursing him back to health, I must say.

"Oh, just quit it, will you?"

"How are you feeling? You look pretty washed up." You pushed the door open and was met with Yuri scrolling on social media. His leg slumped over the other, laying on his back. You knew exactly why the media had been the center of his attention. Yesterday's news blew up around the entire world and people are freaking out on social media. But it wasn't just that. A few already silenced fans of the other figure skating idol's wrote about how it wasn't fair to the rest of the competing programs to have such an advantage. Some even went as far as speculating about Yuri Plisetsky already being so sure on winning this season's Grand Prix and with that, that arranged tour with you. As if he hired you as coach because of that. To get to know you before the big collaboration between the two competitions.

"I always do. No point in rubbing it in though." You put the soup down on a little nightstand you pulled in front of the bed. Followed by the soup came a glass orange juice and a tray with star-shaped apple-slices. He grabbed the spoon you handed him and gave you a quiet 'thanks' before attacking the food.

"That's really not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I implied you look tired. That's what washed up means." You grabbed a chair from your desk and but it beside him on the floor. He looked slightly bugged that you'd be staying so close to him like that. Maybe he worried about another person getting sick but probably not. It was you at risk in this matter and he didn't exactly care about you, you knew. And yes, getting sick is a down step for a singer since the recovery can be slow and painful. But you didn't really care this time. Besides, you wouldn't be starting this season of We Are Voice in a good month anyway.

"You meant ugly though." His words were subtle and caused you to blink, slightly dumbfounded. Why did he say those things so casually about himself?

"You're never ugly, Yuri."

Wasn't he the one with confidence and pride worth a tiger's during last season's Grand Prix? It feels a little out of place somehow. For him to put himself down after only been doing it to others before.

"Say what now?" He took an apple slice between his fingers and inspected it before chewing it up with a mouth of orange juice.

"... You're actually really pretty... if only your personality wasn't to nasty though..."

You just felt like saying it, honestly. You felt like maybe he needed to hear it. And the parted lips and the wide stare you received from him revealed that you just might have been right. But he quickly read into the following sentence of your exclamation and shook his head.

"H-Hey!" The insult clearly hit the right spot as well judging by the pout and the blush. You flashed him a grin and let a loud laugh escape your lungs.

"Just eat your damn soup,Plisetsky!"

"Hey um... " You looked up from the book you had been reading. Yuri was finished with his breakfast and had been eying you for a good long minute in secret before deciding to speak up. You had just decided to ignore it and figured he'd say something if he felt like it.

"I have been wondering. So the reporter called you The Aubade Duchess yesterday... What does that stand for anyway?" The events of yesterday hit you in the gut once again. The loud screaming and the now so familiar pressure around you. They had been calling you The Duchess of (nationality) ever since your first year at the senior league of We Are Voice where you came in third. You hadn't been competing as a junior the years before but you were immediately a favorite of the people. Then, your second year, you won first place and earned the word 'aubade' to your fan made title. Last year, even though your competition grew more hellbent on winning, you came in first place once again. Your own coach had promised your fans a third golden success for this years finals. The title kind of stuck as you grew up on the stage.

"Right, that. Aubade stand for 'a love song which is sung at dawn', I have been told. It's silly, really." You turned to watch a certain detail in the marble floor, expecting some kind of teasing to come next. But the room fell silent for a moment and your eyes sought the reason behind the reaction.

"It suits you." It had been quiet. But you heard it nonetheless. Yuri wasn't meeting your gaze either but noticed your stunned surprise anyway.

"W-well, I mean... No- maybe? I don't know! It sounds ridiculous, just like you! God, you're so clingy and asking too many questions all the time."

He's been acting so... strange from his usual behavior. Like the fever has turned him into a less tense and distrustful version of himself almost. Wasn't he able to think straight? Perhaps you should treat him as a drunk person after all.

Even though your hand had been previously swatted away, you still put it to his forehead anyway. It was as hot as the first time and the heat made you snap back to your current situation.

"Shit. You're burning up... maybe I should-" You were cut off by Yuri leaning into your hand and closing his eyes. His entire posture screamed 'about to pass out'.

"Your hand... feels cool and nice..."

What the hell? Yeah he's as good as drunk. Wait no- you should call an ambulance, right. This is really bad.

"Oh. Should I get you a damp towel?" You were just about to retract your hand. To leave the room and attend to his fever once again but you were stopped. The Russian Punk took a weak hold on your wrist and held your palm close to his forehead. He sniffled once more before nuzzling into your hand with a little sigh. One more sniffle and he was out.

Light breathing was heard and he was finally asleep. On you, though. You couldn't even reach your phone to dial the hospital. You didn't want to scream for help either because it might have woken him up. But then, you couldn't help but feel a tad of relief as you were finally given a (kind of) break for a few moments.

But you had stuff to do. Those towels wouldn't wet themselves and you better prepare them for him. You began the attempt to remove your hand as carefully as you could but were immediately cut off by the soft mumble of a sound asleep Yuri.

"Mm... Don't you dare go anywhere."

...Okay then.

#inspiration #yuri on stage #yurio plisetsky #yuri on ice fanfiction #yuri on ice fandom #yuri katsuki #yuriart #yurianime #yuri on ice #yuri plisetsky x reader #yuri plisetsky #anime icons #anime fanfic #anime #animelove #best anime

31 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

&New (Sashea) - Chae

summary: shea is a famous model, sasha is a famous designer. they *attempt* to have a nice, low-key, friendly date. a paparazzi has other plans.

a/n: i just posted this finished product to ao3 and thought why not bless the tl (wait is this even considered a tl.. well anyways) with some Sashea aka my favorite ship ever– whilst also proving i am not dead! also the lil marked line is where the smut starts i really said “cute… but also porn”

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24913066?show_comments=true&view_full_work=true#main

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm?” Sasha looked at Shea from behind her coffee mug, taking a sip of the scalding beverage and carefully wiping around her red lipstick. “Nothing, really.”

“You sure?” Shea raised an eyebrow. If Shea knew one thing, if there was one motto she lived by, it would be that ‘Sasha is always over-analyzing something.’ Today, it could be her coffee at best, or her entire relationship with Shea at worst.

“I swear!” Sasha laughed, her eyes crinkling up in that adorable way they did, her mouth turning into a little scarlet-colored heart. If Shea knew two things, if there was a second motto she lived by, it would be that she could watch and listen to Sasha laugh forever and ever.

“What are you thinking about, Miss Coulee?”

“You,” the model answered honestly. There probably wasn’t a day Shea didn’t think about Sasha. No, fuck a day, a minute. They were ‘friends,’ sure, but both of them knew it was much more than friendship.

Unfortunately, the entire general public suspected the same thing.

Yes, Sasha was famous, but Shea was mainstream. Everyone knew about her, the newest model-Instagram-star-actress-songstress-activist-pole-dancing diva on the scene. And everyone caught on when Shea and the popular designer she’d walked for during fashion week were spotted in public together on numerous occasions. Straight social media played it off as business-partners and friends, but any fan with a brain—especially Shea’s young, very queer fanbase— would spot the gay energy from miles away.

And just like Shea’s sexuality, their relationship was undefined.

“Me?” The coy question was followed by the clack of Sasha’s teeth against the silver fork that held a pastry, which she placed delicately in her mouth.

“I said that,” Shea affirmed, her expression reading serious, yet her eyes gazing at the blonde with adoration.

“Why are you thinking about me?”

Shea scoffed. “Why am I not thinking about you?”

“You are a busy woman.”

“Not busy enough for you to leave my head.”

Sasha’s pale cheeks reddened. It was common for them to flirt, she should have been used to it. But every time Shea said something nice to her, she couldn’t help herself. God herself could have been complimenting Sasha and it wouldn’t compare to what Shea Coulee had to say. That was to say God wasn’t Shea Coulee.

Shea loved it when Sasha stared at her. When her piercing blue eyes bore into her soul like she was solving an unsolvable equation. It was funny how the petite woman considered Shea a goddess (she knew she did), when the only thing Shea wanted to worship was Sasha. Everything about her: her kind smile, her perfectly and uniquely beautiful face, her analytical shenanigans, her voice that sounded like how honey felt sliding down your throat. Almost a year of friendship, and every moment with her felt brand new.

All of a sudden, Sasha’s eyes snapped to somewhere behind Shea’s head, and her face fell. Shea had a feeling she knew what she was looking at, turning around to see a familiar camera nearing the coffee shop. Her heart dropped to her stomach, not wanting this paparazzi bitch to ruin the amazing day she’d planned for the two of them.

“Let’s go,” Sasha said hushedly, picking up her bag and completely ignoring her unfinished food and coffee mug.

Shea nodded, doing the same, a plastic cup filled with her frappuccino in one hand and Sasha’s own hand in the other. They’d held hands a few times, sure, but nothing beat the rush of interlacing her fingers with the shorter woman’s. She hadn’t really held her before, hadn’t cuddled or snuggled her often, but when she had Sasha’s dainty hand in hers it almost made up for every time she wanted to hug the breath out of her.

They raced down the street laughing, the entire situation almost comical. They looked like two crazy women, walking so fast it might have been classified as a jog and cackling like schoolgirls. But it felt right. As cheesy as that might sound, there wasn’t a better word for it. Familiar. Comfortable. Right.

Again, that was implying that everything didn’t feel right when Shea was with Sasha.

Shea led the other girl a few streets down, ducking behind a mahogany door and checking if the coast was clear. The pair found themselves in a small thrift shop—well, small was an understatement. It was a pretty big thrift shop. But it was quaint, and very artsy, very post-vintage. Very Sasha.

The designer, wearing her sunglasses to hopefully conceal her identity (some face mask, especially next to Shea, who forgot hers at home), looked at the shop in awe.

“Shea… where—”

“The internet,” the taller woman replied smugly.

“You went out of your way to find this for me?”

“It’s the least I can do,” she chuckled. “I wanted today to be fun for us.”

Sasha smirked. “With the camera creep on our tails?”

“More fun for us. Keeping you on your toes.”

The blonde laughed, a soft and knowing giggle. She perused the racks of clothing, feeling the fabric of every sleeve, every pant leg, tracing her fingers along the leather of heeled boots. Shea anticipated the well-dressed woman to pick up a garment multiple times, but she never did, not even the ones she thought were cute. Which left them for Shea, of course, but it also left her wondering what kept her from purchasing them. The designer was known to purchase both expensive and average priced clothes, Sasha caring more about the fit, the cut, the style more than who made it. But she was being extra picky today.

“Something on your mind?” Shea asked.

“No. Just… none of these are speaking to me.”

“Suit yourself,” the model clutched a fur jacket and a PVC skirt in her hands, ready to snag the cute plastic earrings at the cashier before checking out.

“Are you at least getting some inspo?” she asked again.

“Yes! I think. I don’t know. If it’s from this. I’m inspired, though. I’ve been inspired,” Sasha played with a lock of her curly blonde hair.

“By…”

“You.”

Shea smiled. “Me?” she mimicked Sasha’s earlier response.

“Shea,” the russian rolled her eyes. “Stop making fun of me when I confess my undying love,”

“Is that what we’re doing now?” Shea feigned surprise. “In the middle of the store?”

“Let’s buy you some lesbian earrings, I don’t think I’m going to get anything. Today,” she added.

It was when they were at the cash register when they simultaneously spotted the paparazzi—again. The same one. Across the street. Coming closer. Fuck.

Sasha bit her lip, not wanting to abandon the clothing Shea seemed so excited about. She didn’t have much time to think, so she mustered a “could you put these on hold? We’ll be back eventually,” before sliding the worker a twenty for their hassle. Whether or not they accepted that offer was yet to be found out, as Sasha and Shea were already out the door.

Their rush to escape the prying eyes of the cameraman took them to the metro, into a subway car, breathlessly plopping down in the only two open seats. Would either of their management teams let something like this occur? No.

Well. Too late. They were off, hopefully away from the paparazzi for good this time.

The pair kept their heads down in order to attempt to conceal their identities, as if that would do much on a crowded subway. But attempt was the key word in this situation. It didn’t stop them from stealing glances at each other the entire ride, smiling stupidly at absolutely nothing.

“So, Shea,” Sasha started.

“So, Sasha.”

“Where are we going?”

“Dummy, you’ll see, that’s the whole point.”

“You did not just call me a dummy.”

“What if I did, blondie?”

“Perpetuating not only female stereotypes, but hair color stereotypes? Tsk tsk,” Sasha shoved the taller woman’s arm lightly. Shea giggled in that full, sexy way that her voice always sounded, her voice trailing off into nothing, the pair falling into comfortable silence for a few moments.

“What?” Sasha asked, her voice laced with a joking tone.

“Nothing, I just like your face,” Shea replied with a wink.

“Oh my god, I swear I’m going to kill you one of these days,” Sasha rolled her eyes playfully, her cheeks flushing pink.

The train stopped, Shea perked up.

“This is us,” she said, her pearly white teeth peeking out from a satisfied smile.

Once again their hands interlaced in a gentle display of affection, Shea more familiar with public transport (despite a couple years of not using it) than Sasha, leading her through the complicated catacombs of the metro station.

They emerged in a park, and a smile immediately found itself creeping onto Sasha’s face. Reluctantly, they severed their skin-to-skin contact at the sight of the crowded lawn, Sasha dubitifully following Shea’s path.

Their altitude heightened and the amount of people decreased, and the sun shone bright on the two girls as the hill they climbed steepened.

Shea stopped, smiling at the sight of a familiar footpath.

“It’s still here!” She pointed out, mainly to herself, almost jogging through an overhang of trees.

Sasha scurried after her, the sun disappearing briefly behind the leaves before reappearing even brighter than before in a small, protected, deserted clearing, overlooking the entire city.

Shea stood at the edge, looking like nothing short of a painting with a slight breeze ruffling her long black hair, set against the picturesque landscape.

Sasha appeared behind her, the sunlight bringing out her rosy cheeks and freckles.

In that moment they were joined together in the same work of art.

“Shea, this is so beautiful,” was all Sasha could say.

“I came here to think when I was younger, after school. I kind of hated my friends. And then I met new ones, and then we came here at night and we drank and we smoked. And then, you’ll never guess,” Shea explained excitedly. Sasha hung onto her every word like it was gospel, wanting to retain every single slice of the taller girl’s life.

“I think I have some idea,” Sasha laughed.

“I had my first kiss here, too. Only good memories. I haven’t been back for a while, but I guess I just never found the need to.”

“We’re coming back, Shea. When we get chased by paparazzi, we’ll go here,” Sasha said, her eyes darting from the city to Shea and back again, not quite sure which sight was more beautiful.

They found themselves laying in the grass, side by side, staring up at the clouds. Cliche, but so, so wonderful.

“I’m just glad we ditched that creep,” Shea mused.

“I just— what does he want? What does he want out of seeing us together?” Sasha pursed her lips.

“I think you know just as well as I do.”

“Yeah, the fans get even more fuel for their shipping fire.”

“We are always together… “

“Of course, but we’re not together together.”

Pause.

Shea turned her head to Sasha, who was already looking at her.

“What if I wanted… to be together. Together,” the words weren’t exactly unplanned, but they still sounded alien to Shea’s lips.

“Shea—”

“No, it’s fine if you don’t. I just thought, natural progression.”

“Shea, oh my god, I think I love you,” Sasha’s warm hands were on Shea’s cheeks.

“Wh-” and the word was cut off by the most magical, euphoric, shiny sparkly fiery kiss that Shea had ever experienced in her life. The first thing she registered was the taste of coffee and vanilla still on Sasha’s lips. The second was each time their tongues found their way into the others mouth it an entire fireworks show exploded. The third was her arms snaking around the pale girl’s small waist and her own arms tracing up and down Shea’s side.

“I love you,” Sasha repeated against Shea’s lips, catching them between her own red-stained mouth.

“I love you, too, Sasha Velour. That’s what I wanted to say today. Thank you for making it easier,” Shea kissed the other girl’s nose.

“You put together this whole day for us, for it to get ruined, for you to bring me here?”

“We were coming here no matter what. Only good things happen here. Sasha, you’re the best thing yet.”

Sasha blushed, unabashedly now, then pressed another kiss onto Shea’s lips. She traced the side of the raven-haired woman’s face, Shea sighed into her mouth.

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?” she asked, Sasha laughing at the obvious question.

“Nothing would make me happier. Really.”

The gaydar of the world was correct, it seemed, in picking soulmates in the two girls.

Under the light of the sun, in the grass, with the breeze sliding over their faces, they were Living & New.

——

The door clicked shut.

And Sasha’s pale, slender hand dropped from the handle. She turned around, eyes scanning the woman taking off her jacket.

Shea looked back with a smirk, finding it hilariously sexy when Sasha tried to give ‘the look.’

“There’s no need for bedroom eyes, we’re already in your bedroom.”

“Really? I would have never guessed,” the blonde teased as she took their coats and shoes and placed them by the door. They’d come in so excitedly that they headed straight for Sasha’s room without thinking.

“But it’s okay,” the taller woman padded over to Sasha, lifting her chin up to face her. “I like it here.”

“You’d better, especially since you’ll be here so often” Sasha leaned in close, her voice a playful whisper.

“Will I, now?”

“Hmm,” was the Russian’s response, as her lips were already interlocked with Shea’s.

Their lips moved together familiarly, the feel and taste of each other’s mouths still fresh in their memories. Almost immediately Shea’s hands reached for the hem of Sasha’s turtleneck, beckoning her to remove it, and Sasha smirked as she pushed Shea back onto the bed. The woman was silhouetted against the nighttime cityscape behind the bed — similarly to earlier that day at the park.

Sasha broke the kiss with a soft bite on Shea’s lip, wiggling out of the taller girl’s grasp. Shea made a noise in protest, but the blonde shushed her. She walked to the other side of the bed, so now her back was to the giant plexiglass window.

“You want my shirt off?” she teased, watching Shea scan over her quizzically.

The model nodded.

Sasha chuckled softly while slowly stripping off the cotton top. Her bra was lacy and white and pushed her breasts up slightly in a way that drove Shea mad. Shea crawled over the bed, beginning to unzip her own dress frantically.

“No, babe, wait,” Sasha smiled. “I thought you’d like a show.”

Shea’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

“You spoil me,” she brought her hands to her heart. “This is so fucking sexy.”

The slight growl in the model’s voice sent a shock from the back of Sasha’s neck to her core. She fumbled with the zipper of her pencil skirt, trying her best to remove the stiff fabric in a provocative manner. Of course, the designer could fall flat on her face and Shea would still find it sexy, but Sasha was nothing if not a pleaser.

To Shea’s surprise and delight, Sasha was hiding a pair of matching white garters underneath the long skirt. All day. Just for her.

“Holy shit.”

“Like what you see?”

“Fuck, Sasha,” Shea raised a hand to beckon the shorter girl over. Her palms hovered over Sasha’s hips as she took the girl in entirely. “Can I—”

“Always,” Sasha bit her lip, brushing a finger through Shea’s dark hair.

Shea guided Sasha onto her lap, the motion causing her minidress to ride up as she pressed her lips onto Sasha’s once again. Kissing Shea was an experience that could only be described as heaven on Earth, her lips encapsulating the entirety of Sasha’s psyche, the way her tongue intertwined with hers intoxicating and addicting and beckoning to push deeper into the kiss. Her hands threaded their way through Shea’s long black hair while Shea’s roamed Sasha’s small frame, feeling every bit of soft exposed skin and every inch of scratchy lace.

Sasha felt Shea’s lithe fingers unclasp her bra, and hummed softly in affirmation as she let the other woman slide it off. Shea’s pillowy lips latched onto the crook of Sasha’s neck, tracing short and gentle kisses, sucks, licks, and bites down her clavicle. She looked up at Sasha to see her blue eyes blown out and dark, a pale finger swiping over her cheek and a smile creeping onto her stained-red lips. Shea smiled back mishieviously, taking the girl’s nipple in her mouth and swirled around the bud, her other hand cupping the other breast. Sasha let out a moan at the sensitive contact, greedily pushing the back of Shea’s head closer. Shea nibbled playfully in response and let out a muffled laugh into Sasha’s chest.

“You’re so needy!” she smiled. She pulled back and continued to knead the other woman’s breasts.

“Shea, I made a mistake,” Sasha bit her lip. Shea confusedly paused, worry glazing her expression.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Sasha couldn’t stop herself from grinning foxily. “I shouldn’t have got you so worked up, now I have to wait for you to fuck me.”

Shea snort-laughed, her hands instinctively reaching out and touching Sasha’s arms. “You little shit! Get on your back already!”

Sasha contentedly obliged, getting comfortable at the head of the bed. Shea took off her dress in the meantime, crawling in between Sasha’s legs.

“Is this better, my fair lady?” Shea asked sarcastically.

“Yes… but….”

“But….”

“Your mouth is up here, and not down there!”

“I hate you.”

“I love you!”

Shea smirked and crashed her lips on Sasha’s once again, her hands gripping at the hem of the pale girl’s underwear and shimmying it lower. She disconnected the kiss and stripped the rest of Sasha’s garters off, taking a moment to admire the woman laid before her. Sasha was thin, with toned arms from her hours of drawing and sewing, broad shoulders and smaller breasts and a tiny waist. Her skin was airbrush-smooth, and freckles dusted her collarbone and shoulders and thighs. Shea wanted to kiss every little spot on her body.

“You are so beautiful,” Shea breathed.

“I’m beautiful for a mere mortal, but that’s nothing next to a goddess like you.”

Shea’s cheeks grew warm, the praise making her heady. “If I’m Aphrodite, you’re nothing short of Athena.”

“The lesbian love story the Greeks didn’t deserve,” Sasha laughed. Her hands were kneading at the sheets under her, and although Shea could tell she was trying to be intelligent in the moment, she was obviously growing impatient. Shea looked down and could see the wetness coating Sasha’s pussy and had to hold back a chuckle at how well the girl was holding herself back.

Conversation ceased as Shea leaned down, fulfilling her self-promise and kissing up Sasha’s milky thighs, nearing closer to where Sasha wanted her the most. Shea avoided it, kissing around her pelvis and nipping where the skin was soft. Again, her mouth drew nearer and Sasha whimpered.

“What do you want, baby?”

“Shea…”

The model looked up with a glint in her eyes.

“It’s okay, Sasha, you’re with me. You don’t have to be so uptight, especially not now.” She kissed right on top of her clit. Sasha whined.

“What do you want me to do, baby?”

“Just—just… you know, just—”

“I don’t know,” Shea smirked.

“Goddamnit, just eat me out already!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, princess.”

And Shea was licking languidly down Sasha’s folds, savoring the way she tasted and going back for more. She probed around her entrance, the soft sounds Sasha was making before gradually growing into prolonged moans. The designer’s voice wasn’t high pitched naturally, so it translated into musical and full sounds under Shea’s touch and Shea couldn’t get her unique moaning out of her brain. She flattened her tongue against her clit and immediately a strangled ‘mmph’ sounded above and two small hands found themselves buried in Shea’s hair.

Shea licked, pressing harder with each pass as Sasha got more and more worked up. Her voice was breathy and her hips were bucking off of the mattress and her head was turned to the side, and she just looked so pretty with the sheen of sweat coating her forehead and her hair around her head in a curly halo.

Sasha’s hands roamed to her own breasts, the motion being impossible to hold back as she kneaded them in time with Shea’s mouth. The taller woman hoisted Sasha’s thighs upwards and continued to lick, sucking over and over again at her clit, now at a better angle.

Sasha’s thighs were trembling as the pressure in her lower abdomen increased, her calves spasming as the sensations became too much to handle. She couldn’t stop herself—even if she wanted to— from letting obscene, low, drawn out sounds escape her throat. Shea’s mouth felt too good to suppress it, and Sasha was willing to let it go for once. If not for her own good, for Shea.

Sasha tried to catch her bottom lip in between her teeth, but as soon as she bit it another shock of Shea’s tongue brought out another moan and her head was knocked back and her lips open.

It was when Shea heard her name being yelped over and over that she knew Sasha was close, and registered that she herself was probably dripping wet. If the nonverbal sounds turned Shea on, her own name almost sent her over the edge.

Shea brought her hand up to gently hover around Sasha’s entrance, continuing her assault on her clit.

“S-sh-oh my god, oh my fuck-” was something along the lines of what Sasha rambled on about, gasping for air as her orgasm reached it’s very climax. Shea felt her tense briefly, before her entire body relaxed and Sasha was muttering softly and finally breathing regularly again.

Shea’s mouth was swollen, her tongue sore, her body tired. She fell beside Sasha on the pillows, turning and watching as the blonde regained her senses. She was a vision, wrapped up in the sheets with her makeup smudges and her eyes half shut and tired. Suddenly, she seemingly remembered something and turned to Shea.

“Do you need me to, now?”

“What, fuck me?” Shea smiled. Sasha nodded.

Shea looked down at herself. She was wet, that fact was undeniable. She was also tired, but as her arm tingled at Sasha’s feather-light touch, her energy inconspicuously returned.

Shea kissed Sasha softly, all lips and no teeth, as Sasha’s hand made its way lower and lower. Sasha cherished Shea as if she was a goddess — well, to her, she was. She wanted to feel every part of her warm skin, register it’s softness and make sure it was real and that the beautiful woman lying beside her was, in fact, tangible. Sasha caressed her thigh and moved inward, trying to fit her dainty hand in between Shea’s thighs.

Shea’s breath hitched when Sasha’s fingers hovered over her clit, and she gave the other woman more space so her hand would slip lower. Sasha gently slid her hand through Shea’s already-slick folds, and a little whimper drew itself from Shea’s throat.

“You sound so pretty, Shea,” Sasha’s voice was soft.

“I-” Shea was interrupted by her own whine as Sasha pressed against her clit. “Not as g-good as—fuck—you, I bet.”

“I beg to differ,” Sasha replied with a smirk and a breathy tone, massaging small circles now. Their faces were nearly touching, but Shea threw her head back now, mouth stuck in an ‘o.’

“Aah—agree to disagree-ohh-” Shea looked back with wide eyes. “Right there, fuck, that feels so good,” her hips were doing their best to grind forward, knocking into Sasha’s pelvis a little.

Sasha had an idea, then.

“Darling, prop yourself up,” she smiled, planting a quick kiss on her forehead. Shea only had it in her to follow Sasha’s orders without a word.

With some maneuvering, Sasha managed to hook a leg over Shea’s and entangle herself in the other woman so that she could feel the heat from her sex on her own. Shea understood the scenario exactly, a giddy smile plastered on her face.

“Sash, you know me too well.”

With a considerable amount of effort, Sasha managed to bring their genitals into contact, and the sounds that escaped both women’s lips could have come straight out of a porno.

As they grinded in time, rubbing their pussies together, feeling probably the best they’d ever had ever and completely disregarding a need for lube because they were already wet anyway, they wondered why the hell they hadn’t thought of scissoring before.

“Holy shit, Sasha, if I’d had known, fuck,” Shea tried to get out, but the pressure or Sasha against her clit just drowned out the words.

Sasha was basically post-verbal at this point— quite an achievement for someone such as herself— and she grabbed into Shea’s thigh in a vain attempt to ground herself. A feeling like this made her feel so high she wasn’t sure she’d come back down.

And so their cunts rubbed together, the only sound in the entire large three-story house the almost-hypersexual moans of the pair as those grew louder and closer to screams than anything.

“Shea, Shea, Shea, I-I think, oh god I’m going to—” Sasha frantically jerked her hips and yelled her relief as her second orgasm tore through her. The rush of fluid onto Shea’s pussy was enough to get her throbbing, and it wasn’t long before she finally got her release, shouting Sasha’s name.

The next few moments were a blur, the two women beyond spent, muscles sore and heads light. Apparently they both managed to hobble to the bathroom and tidy themselves up a bit, because the next thing Sasha fully registered was cuddling into Shea’s side. Shea didn’t even get that far, the moment her head touched her pillow, she was fast asleep.

Moonlight mixed with the lights of the city, basking the entire room in a periwinkle afterglow. It was entirely possible someone in one of the high-rise apartments across the street saw their whole ordeal, and the thought made Sasha laugh. If they’d known who they were, if they’d known what Sasha and Shea were doing, their lives would be over. The only thing that meant more to Sasha than Shea herself was Sasha’s work, her designs. To have that taken away was impossible, and she knew Shea felt the same about walking a runway.

Sasha squeezed Shea. In the privacy of her home, she could get used to this. In the light of the stars there was nobody to stop them from loving each other. No prying eyes and paparazzi stalkers. It was Sasha and Shea. And during the day, they could both have what they loved.

It was give and take. It was upsetting. But it was life, and the comfort of seeing each other after a hard days work made it all worth it, somehow,

Living in the sunlight, Loving in the moonlight.

#rpdr fanfiction #sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #song fic #lesbian au #fluff #smut #model x designer au #chae #submission

24 notes · View notes

madamspeaker · 4 years

Text

It’s not a “gate” - The hair/salon thing

I’ve addressed the salon thing in a couple of asks, but I wanted to take a moment to just go through the whole thing separate of those because what this saga has highlighted is a complete failure of journalists to do their work, and the undercurrent of misogyny that perpetuates both journalistic discourse, and how women must present themselves, especially if a public figure.

(This is long, so to spare your dashboards it’s under a cut)

Let’s start with the facts. Nancy’s usual stylist wasn’t available for Monday, so she/he recommended someone else. Nancy’s office contacted him last weekend (Nancy only returned to SF some time on Friday), and asked if it was possible to do her hair. The thing to note at this moment is that the rules governing salons in California started to change from last Friday. The governor had announced limited indoor openings, but to confuse matters some localities were still imposing tighter restrictions. Nancy’s office checked with the stylist, who told them that the rules permitted one person in at a time. He then asked the salon owner who he rented a chair from if he could go into the premises and do the appointment on Monday. The owner agreed to his request on the Saturday. Fast forward to Monday afternoon - Nancy gets her hair done before doing a television interview on MSNBC, and then on Tuesday the owner cries “outrage!!!” to Fox News, bringing along with her a seconds long bit of footage that shows Nancy with her mask around her neck. Naturally the whole thing explodes on Twitter and then across other media (several versions of the story made the top ten shared links on Facebook).

What followed was a failure of journalism to ask follow up questions about the clearly odd parts of the salon owner’s account as relayed by Fox News (a red flag in of itself). In her interview with Fox she admitted she had known about the appointment in advance, but no one thought to ask why she let the appointment go ahead if it so offended and outraged her - she did own the place afterall, it’s not like Nancy had keys or barged in. Likewise, no one thought to ask where the rest of the salon footage was. Why only release seconds worth which rather conveniently showed Nancy with her mask down, and partially hidden under her chin? Could it be that she had worn the mask the rest of the time. No one in the media thought to ask this. It seemed fairly clear to most sensible people on Tuesday night that something with off with the salon owner’s tale of outrage, but the media pretty much took the Fox News version of events at verbatim. Only USA Today raised the points I just did, but alas, they buried them in their write up.

Wednesday saw Nancy fight back, acknowledging that she took responsibilty for trusting the salon (when perhaps she should have had someone else verify what they had been told), but ask yourselves this, would you have verified it elsewhere? She had been to this salon before with a stylist, they were local, she trusted them, and in a situation in which the law was changing, it makes perfect and reasonable sense to ask the professionals in that industry what their status is. On this point there have been plenty of indignant people and bots on Twitter up in arms that Nancy didn’t apparently know the regulations in SF, but a) she didn’t make those regulations (as some seem to think), b) she spends just as much if not more time in D.C., and c) she has about 100 other things on her plate in any given hour, that salon regulations in SF are probably somewhere near 120 on her list after deal with Covid-19, Trump, win the election, save the USPS, try to get a stimulus bill, deal with the federal budget which will need a CR to prevent a shutdown (minutes after I hit publish on this it was announced she had reached a deal with Mnuchin to avoid a shutdown), restore in-person inteligence briefings, file an appeal in the McGahn case (again), Bill sodding Barr,, Russian bounties on US soldiers and so on. She has an insanely stressful job at the moment, her staff too, and it seems more than reasonable for staff/her to ask a professional in the industry about the regulations on salons, when such regulations were pretty confusing to most people last weekend anyway. Nancy’s only apparent “crime” in this instance was to trust the word of the industry pro.

Then of course we have the “she’s not wearing a mask” portion of this debacle. Not one journalist has asked where the rest of the footage is. We see Nancy walk from the bowl to another room, wet hair, phone in hand, and the mask around her neck (slightly hidden by her chin), but we never got the footage of her walking to the bowl, or any other footage from what was definitely more than a 4 second long appointment. Could it possibly be that she had indeed been wearing a mask the rest of the time - that she wasn’t just wearing it around her neck as some sort of foulard meets choker fashion statement. People have asked, “Why did she pull it down?”, and to that I will say, probably any one of three or four reasons. She uses a clip at the back of her neck to secure her masks rather than the ear loops. Maybe it was in the way and the stylist asked her to pull it down. Maybe she had trouble breathing with her face covered and head back. Maybe she didn’t want to get it wet. The point here is that it was around her neck, suggesting that she had been compliant until that fateful video captured moment. The media again though have run with the Fox News narrative that she had no mask. For one, it’s actually visible in the footage, and two, they are blatantly disregarding what they themselves know to be true - that Nancy has been wearing a mask for the last five months. We have the footage and photographs to prove it, not to mention the press also know that she takes down her mask to talk at her pressers etc. The press are playing stupid on this point to satisfy some both sides need in an election that so far has Joe Biden with a good lead. Their wilful obtusity is purely to inject some drama into things on the Dem side for clicks because nothing at present is sticking to Biden. All this leads to me to the misogyny.

I caught part of a radio interview yesterday in which two male hosts had to have it explained to them as to why a woman in the public eye might need a hair stylist more than once a week. One of the men had been perplexed as to why if Nancy needed her hair done she hadn’t just got it taken care of in D.C. were salons are open. It never entered his brain that no amount of hair spray is going to keep a hairstyle in place for at least 3 days (when Nancy was last in D.C.), or that she might need to lie down to sleep, or that hair does actually need washed. Likewise, it never occured to either of them that Nancy turning up to an television interview with anything other than styled hair would be a news story in itself, because here’s the rub, women are damned for makeup and hairstyling and thought vain and shallow, and they’re damned if they don’t put makeup on and get their hair done, especially for television (we all remember the “omg” reactions when Hillary turned up to an event days after the election in 2016 with a bare face). The last couple of days have been full of this crap, with men (looking at you Don Lemon and the SF Chronicle editorial board) especially saying Nancy should apologise for the salon episode. Why should she? She did what any reasonable person would do and asked about the rules. Her error was to take the salon at their word, but by today’s logic the salon’s lie is Nancy’s fault. I have seen more than one man on Twitter admit the facts of the case and still say “she should take the hit”. Would they say this of a man who had been lied to, framed, and the footage sold to a hostile media company? I think not.

And then of course there is the salon owner herself. The stylist released a statement last night backing Nancy’s side of events up. He also revealed that the owner, so “outraged” by Nancy’s appointment, had in fact been opening up illegally since April, had been forgoing masks, and been forcing stylists to work. What also emerged is that the owner had let her licence lapse on the premises back in May (so Nancy had not ended her business as she claimed), and was in the middle of relocating to Fresno -- something the press have gilbly ignored as they report how she has been hounded out of town because of Nancy, and forced to move. Let me say this, not even the IRA at the peak of The Troubles could get people to move that quick, and they had guns. And then there’s the gofundme - which popped up less than 24hrs after she handed the tape to Fox. Naturally the blurb is a sorry tale of woe, of a supposedly single mother forced to move because of the evil Speaker of the House. No mention that she owns three salons, that she’d let the licence lapse on one anyway, is opening one in Fresno, loves her guns (and those ain’t cheap) and took a PPP loan of $12,000 wihilst operating illegally. By the way, at the time of writing this, the gofundme has raised over $80k for her -- which shows you how Trumpers will buy into any bullshit, and how Nancy is a fundraising powerhouse regardless of your party affliation lol.

I appreciate this has been a rather long read, and if you made it this far, thanks! Nancy didn’t do anything wrong other than take the word of a salon in good faith. Should she have known the regulations herself? Maybe, but she has the kind of crazy and stressful life most of us can’t even begin to imagine, and unlike the Presidency, the Office of Speaker doesn’t come with personal maid services thrown in, or a whole West Wing of staff. End of the day, once out of that office, Nancy has to do all that normal life stuff that the rest of us do - shop, go to the post office, buy clothes etc., and now in the Covid era get ready for tv interviews herself rather than a studio stylist do it. Her mistake was to trust someone who has it turns out saw a chance to have a moment of fame, stick one to the woman she ignorantly blamed for the lockdown, and make some money from gullible Trumpers. I don’t know how this story will play out in the coming days. Ice cream lasted a week, spurred on by the far-left and then the far-right. This may have more staying power as Trump desperately seeks some kind of mud to stick to Dems, and with nothing sticking to Biden at present, his 2016 playbook (and the even older GOP one) of blame a woman (in this case Nancy) has been deployed. The problem of course is that Trump isn’t running against Nancy -- but as the press have so depressingly showed, that fact hasn’t stopped them from elevating one trip to a salon above 180k+ dead, Melania using a prvate email server (!!!, I mean come the fuck onnnnnnn, this after 2016!!!?!?!?), or Trump telling people to committ a felony and vote twice.

#nancy pelosi #madam speaker #long reads

14 notes · View notes

yamayamawrites · 3 years

Text

Castaway AU - Coming Later This Winter!

Hey friends! If you’ve been following me for a while you probably know/have heard that I’m working on another big fic to rival Mr. Loverman (which you can find here on ao3 if you haven’t read it yet, it’s 20 chapters and ~103K completed). And as a special treat for all of you who follow me on here, I wanted to share a sneak peek of what’s to come! I’m super excited about this one guys, I have a beta reader and everything (she’s the best, an absolute gem)!!

But first, I need to tell you what it’s about. Izuku is a famous photographer/social media celebrity, just returned home from yet another trip abroad. He decides to take his sailboat out for a trip to get some final photos and top off his portfolio for the month, but he ends up falling asleep on his boat. What happens when he wakes up on the shore of a secluded island with a strange man shaking him awake?

(Please forgive me, I haven’t touched up the summary just yet.)

Anyways, if you’re interested in reading a sneak peek of the first chapter, please click the ‘read more’ option below!

June 30, 06:48am

It’s hard not to feel some sort of rush, being awake this early.

Izuku has always been a morning person, and even more so in the summertime, when the sun wakes with him. Like today! The sun is up just moments after he is, peeking out from the shroud of ocean it hid behind. Izuku is home today, his second night home after his latest trip (he’d gone to Norway, and of course taken photos of everything). He recovered from his jet lag – yesterday he slept in until nine in the morning and was disgusted with himself – and has his swim trunks and an unbuttoned Hawaiian tee on before the sun can even cast a glare on his floor.

He lives in Horiuchi, a small town with a beautiful beach. His apartment is small – mostly because he spends so little time in his actual apartment that it’s more of a postcard address than anything. It has a single bedroom, a kitchen with a dining table crammed in its center, and a living space about big enough for Izuku’s couch and a wall-mounted television. And even then, Izuku often ends up vaulting the couch to get through.

But the balcony is beautiful, outstretching over his view of Morito Coast. The apartment isn’t as costly as some of the others with worse views, probably in part because this isn’t a vacation town but also because nobody wants to live in the shoebox Izuku lives in. Before him, there hadn’t been an inhabitant in the apartment in well over six months, and they gave Izuku a pretty hefty discount on the place even though Izuku said he’d take it full price.

Izuku throws back the curtains to his balcony door (after vaulting his couch), allows the sunlight to wash over the ground. He opens the balcony door wide, the fresh sea air pouring into his apartment, the cool wash of the last remnants of summer night coming through. It almost makes him shiver, and it does push his rowdy curls into even more awkward angles than before, but he opens his arms anyway to the fresh air.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture, as he always does on mornings he’s home. Though he isn’t around much in the summer, the photos of the sun rising over Morito Coast always seem to be more popular than the rest, and Izuku supposes he will never truly know why. He does suspect, though, that it’s because the view is just so perfect.

He nearly forgets to eat breakfast before he starts his live stream, seats himself out on the balcony in his little lawn chair and enjoys the wash of the summer sun slowly creeping up his bare legs. “Good morning!” he calls to the phone, waves to the camera as he’s joined by tens of thousands of people to watch his live stream. He constantly has to remind himself that not all of his fans are located in Japan – because if they were, he’d be more than surprised at how many people jump on at seven in the morning to watch him stream just talking through his day plans.

“Today I’ll be going off Morito Coast on my sailboat!” he announces brightly. He’s had this on the calendar since he was back in Norway. His sailboat is nothing special, barely large enough for three people comfortably, but he hasn’t had a chance to sail since he left almost three weeks ago and he’s anxious to get back out on the water. A few comments roll in telling him he should try surfing one of these days; he laughs it off and takes a note in the back of his brain to call Ochaco next week and have her teach him the basics.

It’s a normal stream, for the most part. Comments roll through, Izuku answers questions that reappear when he can and apologizes for the missed questions when he can’t. It’s shorter than most, and perhaps that is the most out-of-the-ordinary part of it, but otherwise it isn’t anything noteworthy.

So, then, how does it become his last?

08:16am

The sun is hot, now. On the brink of July is when summer becomes sweltering, enough even that it almost deters Izuku away from the heat. Truthfully, it’s why he went up to Norway – it’s much more temperate up there, less direct sunlight to try and inflict Izuku with skin cancer. He lathers up the sunscreen, though, and heads down to the beach – perhaps a ten-minute walk – in his flip flops, his Hawaiian shirt (now buttoned, but only twice), and his dark green swim trunks.

A few of the locals are already on the beach, and they wave to Izuku, shout good-mornings and ask how he’s doing out of courtesy. Izuku recognizes Ivanka, a retired Russian woman who lives in the next apartment building over. Her Japanese is stilted, but she likes Izuku because Izuku knows Russian. (And English, Chinese, Spanish, Italian, and a touch of French.) He recognizes the twin girls from downstairs, Kamiko and Hana, putting together a sandcastle with their mother, Rin, off to the side reading a book. Izuku’s sailboat is further down the beach, closer to the jagged rocks protruding from the water, roped there tightly to keep it from straying too far. Still, he has to yank it to shore by the rope, an activity that might have been impossible when he was scrawnier, but now barely makes him break a sweat.

The boat’s name is S.S. All Might, a silly name perhaps, but Izuku doesn’t care. He’s named after Izuku’s favorite comic book character from when he was a child, a man he always looked up to because he saved everyone with a smile. And though comic book heroes don’t exist, Izuku has vowed to make a hero of himself as best he can in this modern age, by making people smile with his goofy tourist-y photos and livestreams and videos. And though he probably should be past the comic book stage of his life by now, he keeps All Might’s spirit buried in his heart, and All Might’s vintage comic book collection buried in his closet.

He unties the anchoring rope and pushes off from the rocks. It takes a little bit to get past the waves trying to push Izuku back to shore, but they aren’t too rowdy yet today, and for that he’s thankful. Out on the water there’s a decent breeze, and it brings with it a spray of seawater that tames the bubbling heat on Izuku’s skin. As he catches a drift his boat takes off, out to sea, while he pulls the sail taut the best way he knows.

Though it probably isn’t the safest place for his cell phone, Izuku pulls it out of his swimsuit trunk pocket and captures a photo of the sun’s steady ascent past the water. There is a full separation now of the sun and the water, but it still refracts brightly on the water below, makes for a stunning stock image that will likely be the source of Izuku’s rent money this month. Perhaps next month, too. He doesn’t too much care about that, though; he flips the camera to selfie mode and holds it up, peace-signing with the sail in the corner and the sun behind him. His skin looks much tanner than he is in this angle, and his freckled shoulders are hidden underneath his Hawaiian shirt, but he plans to post it anyway – when he’s back somewhere with a cell tower, that is.

Izuku has sailed the space past Morito Coast many times. It isn’t a huge expanse of water, but it’s enough to feel like an adventure. It’s not too vast that Izuku gets lost, but vast enough that he can if he tries. But today, the wind carries him further, and he lets it. He lets it because he has a cooler secured to the floor, complete with four bottles of water and a few sandwiches in case he decides to stay out on the water longer than he’s expecting. And there’s more sunscreen, a portable charger for his phone, a change of clothes being kept dry below deck. What could another mile past his normal stopping point do?

The sunlight can only be kept at bay for so long by the spray of seawater, and Izuku is beginning to feel the heat going to his head. The sun is higher in the sky now, and Izuku can tell without even checking his phone that it’s nearing noon, with the sun beating directly onto him, thrumming like a drum. He can feel every pulse of his heart. His first three water bottles are gone and he’s nursing his fourth. Still, he smiles lazily. This is where he’s meant to be – underneath the sun. He sits on the deck of his sailboat and pulls his phone from his swim trunks again, snaps a few photos of himself with the sun hot overhead. His freckles are well-visible, and his Hawaiian shirt has been tossed aside in the heat, so his shoulders and chest (also dotted with freckles) are visible. He stretches out on the deck and holds the phone above, snapping a picture of himself lying on the sailboat deck. His abs look more defined than ever, considering the sunlight above is casting rather harsh shadows from this angle.

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, and he will kick himself every day for doing it, but he closes his eyes, lets the warm summer sun be his blanket as he takes a cat nap on the deck. He’s even so bold as to dip one of his legs off the edge of the boat and into the water, like kicking his foot out from underneath a blanket in the summer when it gets too hot. And he sleeps, he sleeps through the sunlight drawing behind a cloud, and reappearing only to be drawn away again, by angry gray storm clouds that he hadn’t expected today. But when has he ever been one to check the weather?

#tddk #tododeku #ao3writer #yamayamawrites #castaway au #sneak peek #my hero academia #mha #current wip

2 notes · View notes

reading-writing-revolution · 4 years

Text

Heather Cox Richardson:

December 9, 2020 (Wednesday)

Today’s big story remains the loss of our neighbors to Covid-19. Today, our official death count passed the number of those killed in the 9-11 attacks. On that horrific day in 2001, we lost 2977 people to four terrorist attacks. Today, official reports showed 3,140 deaths from Covid-19, the highest single-day toll so far. Hospitals are overwhelmed, our health care workers exhausted.

As the country suffers, Trump has launched a new approach in his attempt to steal the 2020 election. While he has previously insisted that he actually won, and that his “win” must be recognized, this morning he tweeted simply “OVERTURN.” Republican leaders have ducked the question of Trump’s refusal to acknowledge Joe Biden’s win in the election by saying that the president has a right to challenge an election through legal means. Few of them commented on this new attack on our democracy.

Instead, the Republican attorneys general of seventeen states supported a lawsuit Texas has asked the Supreme Court’s permission to file against Georgia, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin, suing them over their voting processes. A majority of voters in those four states voted for Biden, thus giving him their state’s electoral votes and the presidency. The states that want to sue are all Republican-majority states. They are hoping they can get the Supreme Court to allow them to sue, and that it will then agree with their complaint and throw out the votes from those states so the Republican legislatures there can then choose their own electors and give the win to Trump.

Astonishingly, this argument comes from the party that claims to oppose “judicial activism.”

The states that have declared their support for Texas’s lawsuit are: Missouri, Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Indiana, Kansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Montana, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Utah, and West Virginia. They are essentially asking the Supreme Court to disfranchise the majority in the United States and to let them put their chosen president in the White House. This assault on American principles is breathtaking.

Trump has also filed a motion to join Texas’s lawsuit in his personal capacity as a presidential candidate. His lawyer says that he “seeks to have the votes cast in the Defendant States unlawfully for his opponent to be deemed invalid.” Tonight, at a White House Hanukkah party, Trump told the crowd that with the help of “certain very important people, if they have wisdom and if they have courage, we are going to win this election.” The attendees chanted “four more years.”

Legal experts say this case is a non-starter. University of Texas Law Professor Steve Vladeck writes, “It is lacking in actual evidence; it is deeply cynical; it evinces stunning disrespect for both the role of the courts in our constitutional system and of the states in our elections; and it is doomed to fail.”

But the fact that Republican leaders have accepted, rather than condemned, this attempt to overturn a legitimate election says they are willing to destroy American democracy in order to stay in power. On CNN tonight, former Ohio Governor John Kasich, a Republican himself, called the lawmakers supporting Trump’s attack on democracy “morally and ethically bankrupt.”

Republicans might be stoking attacks on our electoral system because they know the courts will shut them down. After all, Trump’s lawyers are currently 1-51 in court, and it is unlikely the Supreme Court will take up Texas’s lawsuit. So siding with Trump is a cheap way for leaders to avoid alienating his voters when they will want those voters in 2022.

But they are playing a deeply cynical and wildly dangerous game. Yesterday, the official Twitter account of the Arizona Republican Party asked followers if they were willing to die to overturn the election, then posted a clip from the film “Rambo” in which the main character is threatening someone’s life, saying “This is what we do, who we are. Live for nothing, or die for something.”

Today, talk show host Rush Limbaugh told his listeners that they are, in fact, still a majority but they are plagued with “RINOs” who are selling them out. “I actually think that we’re trending toward secession,” he said. “I see more and more people asking what in the world do we have in common with the people who live in, say, New York? What is there that makes us believe that there is enough of us there to even have a chance at winning New York? Especially if you’re talking about votes….” (New York City has more people than 40 of the 50 states.) He went on: “There cannot be a peaceful coexistence of two completely different theories of life, theories of government, theories of how we manage our affairs. We can’t be in this dire a conflict without something giving somewhere along the way.”

The theme of civil war, and of America tearing itself apart, was one pushed hard by Russian operatives in 2018. On Twitter, “Civil War” trended today. An actual civil war is highly unlikely, but the unwillingness of leaders to stop this language is already leading to death threats against election officials. The longer they permit it to go on, the worse things will get.

Republicans are working to undermine the incoming Democratic administration in other ways, too. Last week, Attorney General William Barr announced that he appointed U.S. Attorney John Durham as special counsel in October to investigate the FBI agents who worked on the investigation into Russia’s interference in the 2016 election. While the law about special counsels says they must come from outside the government, Barr claims to have found a loophole in that rule. Durham can be fired only for specific reasons such as conflict of interest or misconduct. Senate Judiciary Chairman Lindsey Graham (R-SC) applauded the appointment and the continuation of the investigation.

Today Biden’s son Hunter told the media that he has just learned that he is under investigation by the Department of Justice for tax issues, although CNN suggested it is a much wider financial investigation than that, and that it began in 2018. The Justice Department is also investigating a company related to Joe Biden’s brother James. While the DOJ is supposed to be independent of the president, these investigations echo Trump’s own calls for such investigations. Immediately Representative Ken Buck (R-CO) called for a special counsel to investigate Hunter Biden, and tonight, Trump tweeted that “10% of voters would have changed their vote if they knew about Hunter Biden…. But I won anyway!”

House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) told Fox News Channel personality Laura Ingraham today that Representative Eric Swalwell (D-CA) should be “removed from Congress” after an Axios report that a Chinese intelligence operative had worked to ingratiate herself with California lawmakers between 2011 and 2015. The operative targeted a number of politicians, including Swalwell, and she fundraised on his behalf, but there is no evidence she broke any laws. In 2015, FBI officers alerted Swalwell, who immediately cut all ties to her. He was never accused of any wrongdoing. The operative left the country unexpectedly during the FBI investigation.

Although the Axios story was about Chinese espionage, right-wing media is aflame with attacks on Swalwell in what seems an attempt to discredit a Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee. Don Jr. tweeted that Swalwell “was literally sleeping with a Chinese spy,” an allegation that is nowhere in the story, although the story mentions that two unidentified midwestern mayors had affairs with her.

The White House appears to be trying to sabotage the Biden administration not only by keeping the Biden team from information it needs, but by tying its hands and slowing it down. The day after the election, the Trump administration proposed a new rule requiring the new Department of Health and Human Services appointees to review most of the department’s regulations by 2023. The rule would automatically kill any regulations that haven’t been reviewed by then. This would mean that, just as the new administration is trying to fight the coronavirus, it would be slammed with administrative paperwork. The department’s chief of staff denies the unusual move is political, saying that a review is necessary because one hasn’t been done for 40 years.

Now that the transition process has finally started, Trump loyalists are blocking meetings, or sitting in on them to monitor what is being said, especially at the Environmental Protection Agency. At Voice of America, Trump’s appointed head, Michael Pack, has refused to give meetings or records to Biden’s team. For their part, Biden’s transition folks are avoiding fights in order to get whatever information they can.

Republican senators are also signaling that they intend to delay confirmations on Biden’s nominees, although in the past 95% of Cabinet nominees have had hearings before an inauguration, and 84% of those were approved within three days. Senator John Cornyn (R-TX), for example, questioned the experience of Biden’s nominee for Secretary of Health and Human Services, Xavier Becerra. Becerra is the Attorney General of California, and he sat on the House Committee on Ways and Means, which oversees health issues, during his 24 years in Congress. “I don’t know what his Health and Human Services credentials are,” Cornyn told The Hill. It’s not like [Trump’s HHS Secretary] Alex Azar, who worked for pharma and had a health care background.”

2 notes · View notes

evien-stark · 4 years

Text

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 121

If you were still incredibly naive, you would have remarked how surprising, how fantastic it was, when the powers that be decided to get together for the greater good. Only two days after what the papers were labeling as The Bombing of Hell’s Kitchen, a benefit was put together and invites were sent out. Strangely enough, it wasn’t just you and Tony who were invited- which would have been considered normal, in your world. No, instead an envelope addressed to The Avengers had showed up, with tickets to the charity art auction for every single member of your team.

You were lucky Pepper had gotten the mail that day and had brought it up to you. The script and envelope complete with wax seal were a little too refined to just be fan mail from a child. The fact that there was also no return address made it seem a little nefarious. But, with the tickets and invite in hand, you had a choice to make. ...hide it from the team? Make the decision for them that nobody was going?

Didn’t seem like the right thing to do. Especially not when your senses for something being up were all but screaming. Four Russian mafia warehouses had all been bombed within minutes of each other in a coordinated attack. No one had claimed that attack yet. It was true, if it was a gang war type thing, it wasn’t like a different organization would come forward and tell the cops or the papers they’d been behind it. No need. If it was a turf battle or one gang pissing off another, the Russians would know exactly who it was already.

The media was touting this as something terrible- and maybe it was. There had been collateral damage, of course. People had been hurt. And now someone was throwing a benefit over it. Something to revamp Hell’s Kitchen. And all of this happening just after WHiH had released a report on crime statistics in the entire city being lower than ever- all thanks to the same Avengers who had not shown up that night of the bombing. And who had been invited to the gala in Hell’s Kitchen’s stead.

What to do, what to do. What a mess.

The whole thing left you overthinking. Driving yourself up a wall. Maybe that was exactly what this mysterious person or people behind this whole thing wanted. Or… maybe, as Pepper had quietly trying to get across… maybe not everything was about you. And, maybe, as half of your team had been trying to say… maybe the Avengers didn’t always need to be involved in every little thing that happened.

Surely the latter was true. But… your entire team was in New York City right now. And you’d sat this one out.

It wasn’t like nobody had reported on the absence. Of course WHiH was all over it, thanks to Christine Everhart. Did the news outlet also know your team had been invited to come show their faces and donate to the cause? Hard to say. If they did, they’d wait it out. See if any of you showed up. And if an unagreeable number happened to do so, they’d surely make noise about it. But should they go?

You and Tony… perhaps that was all that was really necessary. As usual, in affairs like this. The two of you were far more used to being the face of things. And sometimes that hurt you more than helped. ...more often than not, it felt like, recently. If news reports came out, they’d have your faces on it, your names. Your blame. Especially now that Stark Industries- or, rather, you and Tony, were the sole benefactors to the team. Their follies were really just your follies in light of all that. Something you’d been warned about by Fury, and had taken in stride.

Because what the hell else could you do?

A broke version of the Avengers just wouldn’t work. Someone had to bankroll them. Someone had to take care of them. So it was up to the two of you.

Someone also had to continue to look out for them, and keep them out of trouble if they could. And that was why…

That was why late that night, when Tony was nowhere to be found in the penthouse, you went back to the labs. It was so late that everyone else was gone. Bruce included. You found him in his private room, bracing himself over one of the lab tables, hunched over in bitter defeat. Keying yourself in was a loud affair, he no doubt knew you were approaching.

Still, he made a soft noise of shock when your hand laid between his shoulder blades. He had dark circles under his eyes. And a cloud above his head. “Everything okay?” Asked as gently as you could, knowing, obviously, it wasn’t.

“Just spinning my wheels out here. Have been for a while.” He sounded as tired as he looked.

He was just so spent, not making progress on this Ultron project… it made you rethink asking him about this. Asking him to accompany you. This was something you could handle on your own, right? “Why don’t you put it down for now and come to bed.”

Even his grin held a shade of grey. “That doesn’t sound like a request.”

You gave him a pat on the back. “Smart man.”

“Doesn’t feel like it tonight.” Sighing out a noise of annoyance, brows squinching before he reached up to rub at his own temples.

Very suddenly terribly raw. Being honest with you. Persona of that overconfident, over-egotistical, undoubting genius gone. And instead, in its place… just a man. A man who was losing time on a project that had no date to meet. ...only to him. For reasons that still haunted him. All of this you could feel, as real as the muscles tensing in tight knots beneath your palm.

He turned as your hand slid up, touching at the line of his jaw, palming his cheek for a moment, and then reached further up to take his glasses carefully off the bridge of his nose. After setting them down on the table, you returned that loving caress at the side of his neck, an action that seemed to ease him. But more so was the smile you aimed his way. “Come on. Let’s go take a walk.”

“It’s one in the morning and freezing outside.” Despite his weak attempts at protesting, he was smiling a little more real then.

“You’ll keep me warm, and I happen to know Burger King is still open.” Luckily for him, a man that rarely slept living in the city that never did.

He admired you for a moment, reaching up to settle his hands at your shoulders. “I love you.” A statement of fact as much as it was how he was feeling just then.

“I love you more. On the way you can tell me about what’s got you stuck.”

“Oh yeah?” Slipping his right arm around your shoulder as the two of you headed out.

“Call me your little rubber ducky.” You probably wouldn’t understand a lot of what came out of his mouth about it, but… sometimes it just helped to talk. Even if your subject couldn’t keep up.

“If that’s what you’re into. I think I can get behind it.”

---

While, just as you’d suspected, listening to him ramble his list of heated frustrations didn’t really resonate with you, it did seem to be helping him let off a little steam. When you thought you had something not absolutely stupid to add- where you thought you understood something or perhaps were seeing it a different way- you tried to interject. And, rewarded, more than once he took his phone out to scribble some notes down. You may not have been as smart as him but… if you could help in any way, even something small and stupid, that was really the most wonderful feeling.

It was halfway through his large box of fries, while you were still sipping on a soda in the completely empty (by design, of course) Burger King that that cloud seemed to lift off him. And with it gone, he finally had the clarity to ask, “So. What’s on your mind?”

You felt a little flush of guilt. “Nothing as serious as world-saving tech.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Shifting, he reached to lay one of his hands atop yours. “C’mon. You let me ramble. Your turn now.”

“Well…” Breathing this out on a hum of a sigh. “We got invited to a charity benefit.”

“And water is wet.”

“It has to do with the bombing the other night.”

At this he paused for a moment, considering it. “That was fast. You sure you didn’t put it together?” A small smile.

“Pretty sure. Also… it wasn’t just us that got invited.” When he raised a brow in silent question, you continued. “The whole team got an invite.”

“Hmn. Potentially messy.”

“Not that I don’t love them but… that was my thought, too.” And you hoped your level of guilt over it was at least respectable. “I think we should go. For a lot of reasons.”

He stopped you, “I’m sure you could go on all night, but I trust you.” Implicitly, as always. Something that warmed you. “-by the way, not that I actually want to go. But. I will. For you.” Wearing one of those charming grins then.

“Well thanks.” Trying not to be lured in so easily. ...or at least trying to pretend not to be. “My problem is, if we’re going and we don’t think them going is a good idea, I don’t know how to go about it. I think not telling them could lead to trouble.”

“Lie of omission. Good stuff. Almost never comes back to bite you in the ass. Believe me. I would know.” Speaking from some very personal experience. Some that related heavily to you.

Easy to joke about now. How funny life was.

“Yeah- well-... if I tell them but then tell them I don’t want them to go I feel like it might… hurt their feelings? I don’t know.” It would at the very least open a huge can of worms. That was definitely for sure.

He eased a breath out, eyes going out in thought. “Well- chances are Nat and Barton won’t want anything to do with it anyway. They don’t really like being in public that often- and Banner is busy. And starting to shy away from the limelight again, too. Thor is easy enough to persuade not to want to go to something that boring. It’s really just-”

“Steve. I know.” Feeling bad. Terrible, really. “I don’t want him to think I don’t want him around, because that’s not the case. But-”

“You don’t. -for this, anyway. So what?” He gave a short shrug. “I’m sure there’s stuff he doesn’t want you around for. He’s a big boy. He can handle it.”

You couldn’t help your glowering. “Even so… it’s not really that nice to be told someone doesn’t want you around.”

Tony thought about this for a minute and then gave your hand a squeeze. “Just- frame it… tactfully. There’s a battle plan here. He’ll respect it. And your honesty.”

Your eyes lowered. “I just wish not everything had to be a battle plan.”

“...yeah. Me, too.”

---

While it wasn’t the easiest thing to do, and definitely not fun in any way, coming clean to the team about the invite and then subsequently telling some of them you didn’t need them to go… it felt pretty shitty. Tony happened to be right. Nat and Clint excused themselves almost immediately. Bruce seemed to pretend about thinking on whether or not he wanted to go and then so sadly said he couldn’t make it. Thor was an easy sell. Boring people at a boring art gallery. Not what he wanted to do just then, especially considering Jane had asked him away somewhere.

But Steve.

It killed you that it hurt him so much to be excluded from this. He seemed almost disinterested at first, hearing it was just a charity thing- but still willing to go, of course. It was when you explained the sketchiness of it all and that you and Tony wanted to scope it out- seeing as you would know the people at a gathering like that, and could tell who was out of place- that you had a plan-

...it burned you, that he felt unnecessary. So you did the next best thing you could. Promised him something more. “If this turns out to be what I think, we’re in it all the way together, okay?”

He tried on a smile for you, but it just wasn’t real. “Yeah. Understood. Don’t worry about it. I’ll wait to hear back from you.”

With everything settled after that, and the gala coming up on Monday of all days, there wasn’t really a lot of time to prepare. You picked a simple black gown for you and a simple black suit and tie for Tony (something he complimented with one of those fancy pairs of colored specs). This wasn’t a huge event- something you realized when the two of you pulled up and Happy escorted you both out. There was a fair amount of media standing around begging for pictures and soundbites but something seemed… off.

The feeling only worsened as the two of you stepped into the venue, arm in arm. The air was cold. And… anxious. Everyone was holding themselves stiffly while trying to pretend otherwise. Smiling in that weirdly fake Stepford Housewives way- and generally they always did that, because the rich liked to pretended they cared just to look good. But this was different in an unnerving way. And as you and Tony came in, a small break happened, it seemed like people relaxed but only a little bit.

As the two of you made your way down one of the halls after giving your coats to check, looking at art hung on the walls, you clutched to him a little tighter. “Something’s up.” Murmuring as quietly as possible. Impossible to hear, you were sure, underneath the group speak in the wings.

“I thought we knew that already.�� Speaking back just as quietly as the two of you stopped to pretend to look at a gigantic surrealist painting.

“Worse. Everyone here is freaked out for some reason.” Which really never signaled anything good. If these people were that aware of their surroundings enough to be spooked by something, that something was probably pretty terrible.

“Well…” He took a deep breath. “They’re here because four buildings in this area were bombed. Maybe they’re scared there’s a target here. There’s a lot of extra security, too.” Probably for the same reason, he meant.

And they had felt better when two Avengers had shown up. Maybe Tony was right and there was a logical explanation for all of this. Maybe you were just overreacting. “There’s not a target here, right?”

“Hard to tell. I have JARVIS monitoring the area. Building came back clean before we entered. If something comes up, we’ll be the first ones to know.” Tony had had a game plan and had made sure things were safe before even coming in. He trusted you, and you trusted him. For reasons like this. He always had your safety in mind- and that of the general public where he could- and… while still not making progress on his own project probably found something as simple as this easy to sink into.

You rested your head against his arm with a little extra squeeze. “Thank you.” Not the least of which for taking care of all of that. “In that case…”

He eased as you let go of him and served you one of those handsome smiles. “Glass of wine?”

“You know me so well.” Leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’d like to think so.” Returning the gesture with a little bit of a fuller kiss instead. “Don’t wander off.”

“Of course not. I’ll just be here. Thinking about how this Dalí knockoff really speaks to my soul.”

“I wanna hear all about it when I get back.”

You listened to the sound of him retreating, footsteps echoing down the hallway as you clasped your hands together and looked up at the larger than life nonsense displayed on the wall. It took you a little too long to realize that you actually heard him leaving- where… only moments before… the hall had been alight with the sound of voices. And now…

It was deathly quiet. The chill returned.

Maybe they’d followed after Tony. He was always the life of these little parties. Maybe there was an event going on in another wing you hadn’t been paying attention to. Maybe the auction had started-

Or, maybe, you’d been right the entire time. And the person slowly approaching you, basking in self reverie, was about to really ruin your evening. But you really just had no idea how much ruining would be happening.

“It’s a nice piece, don’t you think?” The voice was not immediately familiar, though the deepness of it dropped your heart right into your stomach. “It will be up for auction later. You should put a bid on it. It goes to a very good cause.”

A heavy presence landed beside you, and you were almost suddenly too frightened to look. People may not have been sharing this space with you any longer- either scared off by this man or simply ordered to leave so he could be alone with you- but they were watching from the corners and balconies. You had to hold yourself steady as you turned and were freshly chilled all over again as you found yourself in the shadow of a larger than life man.

A very imposing man.

“Mr. Fisk.” Wilson Grant Fisk. One of the most dangerous men in this entire city. One you hoped you’d never cross paths with. Drug dealer, arms smuggler, murderer- Kingpin, so you’d heard some rumors label him. No one would dare speak them aloud, though. They’d be dead before they dropped.

One of the only men in the world to have just about everyone in his back pocket. Incapable of being told no.

And apparently, just a few nights ago, below the Avengers’ pay grade.

“You look lovely, my dear. We weren't sure you would come. Did the rest of your friends join you?” He lifted his glass of bourbon, sipping at it slowly, rings glittering in the light along his big meaty fingers. If he’d had a mind to he could have reached out and wrapped that giant hand around your throat in one clean move.

No one would have stopped him.

“Busy, I’m afraid. Just Tony and I are here. I hope that’s not disappointing.” You made every attempt to hold still, to not let him frighten you, as you smiled plainly up at him. People with superpowers… aliens… gods- somehow they all paled in comparison to a simple and dangerous man of conviction.

He chuckled. “Not at all. I know it’s a very taxing thing. Saving the world. Cleaning up the ills of the streets. That’s what my new vision is. Hell’s Kitchen has been a mess lately, and I intend to do something about it. I’m sure you understand the fire.”

Fisk had definitely been behind those bombings. He was basically telling you so himself. He’d blown up those buildings- probably to just get rid of that mafia hold out. Maybe even just for fun, but it was more likely someone had said something to him snidely and he hadn’t taken it well. So he’d bombed four warehouses over it. Seemed like the kind of thing he’d do. And now he was holding a charity function.

When you didn’t answer, he swirled his drink around in his glass and continued, “Crime fighting is such a territory battle these days. I would surely hope you don’t think I’m edging into your claimed spaces.”

“And here I thought WHiH had just posted the crime rates in the city had never been lower.” Squeezing your hands together just to get a literal grip on yourself as you continued placating him.

“Bah. Useless media drivel. Though I’m sure it’s of no surprise to you, I think your little Avengers are giving rise to quite a bout of vigilantism. Then again…” He laughed a little darkly. “I’m sure in some circles your group could be considered as such…”

“We’re government sanctioned.” Chipper as you beat him back on the idea. Probably a bad thing to do but… oh well. “I work very closely with President Ellis.”

“Ah, yes. President Ellis. There are many who are quite inconsolable over what a poor job he’s been doing. Not the least of which… well. I suppose it can’t be considered his fault aliens came to New York.” He was staring you down, lips quirked. Probably trying to get a read on you. Trying to see if he could make you squirm.

“I think he did the best he could. And we were happy to have helped.” This was where you were planting your flag. No matter if it was Fisk you were up against.

“You? You mean to say Stark Industries? Or the Avengers?”

“Both. First the latter and then the former.”

He chuckled again, eyes lowering, taking a long slow sip of his drink. Breathing out. “Yes… I quite admire you and Mr. Stark- although I hope you won’t think it terrible of me, I’ve always envied Mr. Stark. Quite a man of vision, wouldn’t you say? Always had the steel to do what it took to get things done. Still does, I think. Which is why I was hoping to get a word in with both of you. About-”

Tony’s blessed presence popped on your proverbial radar as he came sort of rushing- yet in that cool way of his that just seemed natural- to your side. Wine glass held out, “Sorry it took me so long. The selection here is fantastic.” Putting himself square between you and Fisk. “And we no doubt have you to thank.” Turning, when you took your glass in hand.

You didn’t want to appear to be cowering behind Tony. But… now that he was here…

Fisk grinned at him. “No detail too small to overlook. Your gratitude is appreciated. I hope in kind you’ll listen to my proposal.” He stuck his hand out. “It’s good to finally meet you face to face, Mr. Stark.”

No stranger to shaking hands with men who wanted nothing good for him or the world, Tony was a pro. Slick as he reached out and gave Fisk a hard handshake. “Proposal. You’ll have to call the office. We’re a little busy, at the moment.”

The mood shifted immediately. Fisk’s smile dropped. “Some might call that rude, you know.” Then, easy as it left, the grin returned. “You’re here now.” As if he’d caught Tony in a trap. “I’m merely speaking about cleaning up the filth in this city. I’m sure you must respect the notion. I think joining together on something like that could be groundbreaking.”

Tony tipped his head up, steely-eyed as he made his presence huge. “I’m pretty sure I’ve made it clear where my loyalties lie.” Lifting his own glass, he took a sip of his drink before adding, “If you’d like me to explain it for you, I’d be happy to. But only for about five more minutes. We’re leaving soon.”

All the ghosts in the hall shook with electric shock. Tony Stark. Easily standing in open defiance of Wilson Fisk.

Fisk’s grin twitched before growing wider. “If that’s how you feel about it.” Threatening the both of you with a strange gaze. Lingering on it. The two of you standing without flinching to it. Eventually he broke, turning away finally and walking off. “Some might consider it poor form to get drinks at an open bar of a charity event and then leave.”

Lifting a little on your tiptoes, shivering with frantic terrified energy, steadied by Tony’s arm moving around your waist, you raised your voice just to reach him, “Stark Industries has already made a donation to the people hurt by the bombings.”

The last thing Fisk did was laugh in the corridor. “The world is so lucky, isn’t it? What would we do without you two, I wonder?”

You and Tony stood there. Stock still. Watching him leave. Drinking until your glasses were empty. Then you did exactly as Tony had said- left. Though you took your time in getting your coats. Not running. Just leaving. But as soon as you were in the car his hand moved to take yours in an iron grip.

Anxious energy flooded out of you. “This is bad.”

“I’m sorry.” Though him saying that confused you.

“What for?” Aiming a puzzled look up his way in the darkness.

“For letting him shadow you like that- something was up- I felt it. Right as I put my order in I felt this…” Struggling just a little as he tried to put words to a feeling- “It was like someone zipped their fingers up my spine. And then I rush back to find Wilson Fisk standing over you, staring you down.”

Your alarm had somehow touched Tony. So much so that it had frightened him into flight to come find you. But apparently a little too late. You settled a hand over his bouncing knee. “I just don’t get it… it’s not like he believes we have no idea what he’s up to.” You would put a good bet on that being why he operated in shadow for so long. If he didn’t get in your way, maybe you’d stay out of his. But then… why this? “Why now? What does he want?” What would provoke him so much to be this public?

And not only that-

But to ask you and Tony to try out a life of crime?

There was no way in hell he was actually trying to err on the side of good for once in his life.

“I don’t know.” Tony’s answer was tired and frustrated. “Something’s got him spooked.”

“Really?” You didn’t get that sense but… then again… you’d been a little too preoccupied with your own fear to feel clearly.

“Guys like that- c’mon. They don’t bow out of their own rings unless something bigger than them is looming. Enemy of my enemy type deal.” Speaking from rough experience, it seemed. “Maybe spooked isn’t the right word. ...angry, might be closer.”

The threads of connection pulled taut. “He was talking about vigilantes. You think someone’s trying to bring him down?”

Tony settled back a little bit more, arm coming around your shoulders. “Maybe. Let’s just hope it’s not someone with a dramatic cape-and-cowl deal. ...and someone who knows what they’re doing.”

You sighed, laying your head against his shoulder, raising your hand just over his heart. “I don’t know. Sometimes I still don’t even know what we’re doing.”

At this he breathed out a soft little amused noise. “Yeah. Well. Either way I’m sure we’ll find out sooner rather than later.”

Through the darkness you peered up at him. “And whose side do we land on in the event of a nuclear explosion?” If someone was trying to bring down Fisk, it was going to get ugly. Very fast. And if it was an enhanced individual? There was really no telling what the landscape would end up looking like. Other than scarred.

“Our own.”

For many reasons this soothed you. Eyes closing, you rested a little easier against him. Even more so when his own hand moved over yours. “That’s where your loyalties are, huh?” Tony was a tough man. He’d stared down more in his life than anyone ever should.

...but it still had been kind of cool to witness him, unflinching, verbally backhand Fisk that way.

Still speaking seriously, “With you. The team. And people that can’t help themselves.”

Moving your hand a little higher, you palmed his cheek, turning him so you could press a kiss to the opposite one. “I love a loyal man.”

This broke the darkness hanging over him, though in all fairness maybe the two of you should have stayed serious about this. Still… it dragged a smile out of him. “If nothing else, I’m always on your side.”

“Don’t I know it.” He’d rushed to your side- literally- as soon as he thought something was wrong. And stood by your side to talk down a very threatening man. It was no wonder you felt safe with him around. Whether or not you could, as he’d put it, help yourself. Straying a little, you left a gentle kiss at his lips. “I love you.”

His hand reached up to thread back through your hair, holding steady at the back of your head. “I love you, too. Let’s not overreact on this one. Someone’s on to him. I’m gonna find out who knows what.”

You found yourself agreeing with this. The more information you had, the better. Leaning your forehead against his, “I trust you.”

He hummed out some sweet, lost noise of warm gratitude as your lips met again. You decided very quickly; the rest of the world could wait.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Twenty One

15 notes · View notes

realtalkingpoints · 4 years

Text

What happened with FB Notifications this weekend, and why do I care…???

By Staff realtalkingpoints blog

January 27, 2020

So what did happen with Facebook (FB) notifications this weekend? Anything? If you look for news coverage as I have, of a major news event involving FB, you can’t find it. I found one or two articles referencing ‘degraded performance’ in obscure publications I’ve never heard of before, and only after searching several search engines. Two articles… on something that I’m sure affected thousands, and thousands of users. So why did some people post about their FB notifications being blank? Why is that even a big deal, I mean, can’t you shut those off in settings anyway? What’s the big deal?

Not everyone has seen this subtle suppression technique in action, and perhaps most who haven’t, are using social media differently than those of us who have. To turn it back a step or two, let’s talk about conservatives complaining they are being suppressed on social media. You’ve heard this complaint, right? Usually one of your Trump supporter friends, who’s quickly dismissed by their liberal friends as dreaming up conspiracy theories, and just brushed off because it’s publicly acceptable to not like them, ‘cuz, Trump... So, those people. Conservatives, claiming they are being shadow banned or deboosted or censored on social media.

I am one of those people. I will go on social media and discuss politics, usually with people who don’t agree with me. I will openly express support for our president, Donald Trump, and make more enemies than friends in doing so. And I will support other ideas, movements, and policies that define conservatism, by participating in conversations initiated by politicians and news personalities all over popular social media platforms. I’ve been doing this for years, motivated not by the argument itself, but by the concern that the conservative perspective was under-represented in these online discussions, and by the realization that these online discussions were becoming the epicenter of the political discussion itself.

At the heart of it, it’s a demographics problem. In general, conservatives are older. Not that there aren’t young conservatives, or old liberals for that matter. But in general, most college kids want to protest something… And tell them that college should be free, and of course most of them will agree. As they get older, and many achieve success in career, family and finance, many of them begin to realize the value of the conservative principles they had rebelled against. As in the college tuition for example. Once they have struggled through the weight of the debt, and finally paid it off, there is a sense of accomplishment, and a greater understanding of the value of the dollar. Perhaps they still hate debt, and that’s a good thing. But they have learned through experience, that debt is a temptation dangled throughout life, that can be conquered, but must be entered into carefully, and weighed against the benefits it will afford. There might also be the eventual realization that our banking system relies on loans and interest, and the requirement that loans be paid back, so banks can make more loans and provide liquidity to the economy. The wisdom of these experiences has simply not been achieved by the younger, ‘why can’t it be free’ ideologues.

Ask yourself, how many 18 year-olds don’t know how to use the internet? The answer is basically zero. Now ask the same question of 75 year-olds? It’s definitely not zero. Perhaps a large percentage over 75 is technically using the internet, but many are using it only sparingly, to do email, mail order and basic browsing. The fact is, we still have several generations who grew up, went through their education, and much of their career before the internet was even invented. Many of them are intimidated by the internet, perhaps rightly so, but they are definitely not participating in political debates on FB. My basic understanding of mathematics suggests that the online discussions were more heavily influenced by younger, more liberal perspectives than their conservative counterparts, based on the demographics of the participants. And as I became more and more involved in these conversations, it seemed obvious to me that this was in fact the case. The conservative perspective was simply not getting the same representation on these platforms. It was probably around the same time, that I also realized the social media conversations were driving the television news cycles, not the other way around.

Consider a news anchor or TV journalist with a twitter account. Perhaps they have a show that comes on at 8 pm. But they get a news scoop at 11 am. Historically, viewers would hear about it at 8pm. Today, it’s tweeted out almost as it happens. By 8pm showtime, the news has been tossed about by everyone who approves, disapproves or is suspicious of. I’d theorize, that the 8pm broadcast still benefits from the social media discussion. It’s more informed and refined, having been both challenged and expanded upon as like minded followers along with oppositional personalities weigh in on the discussion. The conversation moves forward at the speed of the internet, as passionately informed ideologues share their best arguments in support of, or in opposition to the conflict of the day. The argument may well be settled by 8pm, regardless of how it gets reported on the individual networks. The conclusion for me is easy. News travels faster on social media, than on TV news broadcasts. And this is revolutionizing news itself.

So what does all this have to do with notifications? Why are some people upset about not receiving notifications, and how does it relate to conservatives who think they’ve been censored? Notifications are what you get when someone likes, shares, or responds to your comment on social media. Think of an account you follow, that posts discussion of news events. It appears in your news feed, and you can interact with it. You can like it, share it on your account for your followers, or you can comment on the issue being discussed. Liking, seems to be the least consequential interaction you can engage in. When you like a post, or a comment, the ‘author’ of that post or comment will usually get a notification that it was liked. The more likes, the more notifications, and the author gets a sense of community approval or indifference to their thoughts. I’m sure the biggest accounts with hundreds of thousands of followers often do turn off their notifications, because it’s a given that they will receive hundreds or thousands of interactions every time they post, and to receive notifications of every one would be overwhelming. But for the average user, notifications of likes are a positive reinforcement to their opinions. It lets them know that they have accomplished an understanding of the issues being discussed and have expressed something that others agree with. So why is not getting notified of likes, such a big deal? We haven’t got there yet…

The effect that the notification suppression has on social media is at least two fold. Many believe that it is used as a form of punishment by social media platforms to persuade accounts away from posting about topics they don’t want on their platforms. I remember seeing a song parody by conservative social media personality Steven Crowder. (video here) I had already experienced the notification suppression (along with other shadow banning techniques), but had struggled to find discussions from other conservatives that this was actually happening (resulting in the all too frequent ‘you’re a conspiracy theorist’ accusations). Thankfully, Steven Crowder had turned the song into a gripe about all the suppressions and de-platforming that his video podcast had gone through. Their parody of “Man of constant sorrow” included an adapted chorus line that went something like ‘notifications don’t work for days’. And then I knew. It was happening, it was real, it was on purpose, and it was a punishment for content the platform developers disagreed with. I wasn’t crazy. Or if I was, then so was Steven Crowder, and I was in good company.

But the effects of suspended notifications goes beyond a superficial punishment for content the platform disapproves of. When applied to the comments of a deep debate, it has a chilling effect on the discourse being exchanged. Take Russia collusion for example. Some of us who followed the developments closely, realized long ago that the claims being made by leftist liberal media about the President’s alleged treasonous Russian contacts just didn’t add up. Imagine a social media post about Russia collusion, and a discussion took shape in the comments. Maybe there was breaking news, and the possibilities of what it could mean were being brainstormed for the first time, right there on FB. Crowdsourcing at it’s finest. But it was a work day, so average Joe quickly shared his thoughts in the comments section while eating breakfast. Joe’s thoughts sparked a lightbulb in another participant who replied to Joe’s comment with the missing link to Joe’s idea. When Joe checked his phone at work, he got the notification, read the reply, realized the missing link, added another comment with his conclusions, and a new part of the mystery was solved. Much of Russia collusion was unraveled just like that. The major account they were both following, absorbed the developments, polished the theory, and it was ready for the 8pm news broadcast. The information exchange had moved ahead at the speed of the internet.

So what if, Joe never got that notification… Joe checked his phone, but there was no indication anyone had interacted with his comment. Maybe Joe interacts with lots of posts and doesn’t have time to circle back and check them all for replies. He relies on the notifications to tell him when it’s happened. The next time he went on the social media site, he interacted with other posts on other topics, and never realized the missing link to complete his theory was waiting for him in the comments section, where he had participated earlier. He never knew, so he never looked, and the discovery was never made. By suspending the notifications, they interrupted the conversation and curtailed the exchange of information. Whether by accident or by design, the platform developers and admins have realized that by suspending notifications, they can suppress the exchange of ideas and content. Interrupt the dialog, and it will at the very least, slow the development of ideas and analysis. And notification suppression likely has effects that we have not yet realized. Remember, they have all the data. They know how notification suppression effects the entire community when used in different capacities, and they are using it more and more.

So today, Saturday January 25, 2020, my notifications page on FB went blank. I had experienced many inconsistencies with my notifications in the past. Times when notifications for specific conversations seemed to roll in days after the actual interactions happened (perhaps what Steven Crowder was referring to in his song parody). Also notifications about comments that don’t show up in the thread the notifications came from. I’m sure there’s others. Lots of games being played by the overlords with their precious notifications. But never had my notifications page been completely blank. Until today. And knowing the unique importance of notifications, I became quite concerned. I posted immediately on FB, and other social media sites. I asked if anyone else had blank notifications pages on FB. The answers came in rather quickly. Yes, yes, yes. Many friends on FB said they had similar experiences today or had seen posts from their friends that were experiencing the issue. Other platforms generated input that it was happening on FB in the UK, and seemed like a wide scale problem. Of course many assumed it was the usual ‘technical glitch’ that so often explains the unexplained phenomena on the internet. Yet another friend made curious observation, that I had been suspicious of. He said something to the effect ‘all my friends who engage in partisan politics on FB are complaining about notifications today’. It hadn’t affected his notifications, but he felt he had noticed a correlation among those claiming they had. He thought it was affecting those who regularly espouse their political views on the platform.

FB has been vocal about their displeasure with the politics playing out on their platform. They have made public commitments to crack down and dissuade certain types of political content, including political ads during the election cycle. So was this notification suppression, a deliberate attempt to punish politicos for opining on FB? If it was a deliberate act, their timing was likely no accident either.

Today was the beginning of the President’s legal defense arguments in the Senate impeachment hearings. Today was the first day, that the President actually got to defend himself via legal representation on national TV in the impeachment charade that’s been going on for months now. It was right after sharing a video of his legal team delivering devastating remarks and embarrassing the Democrat hoaxers that my notifications suddenly went blank. Was my sharing a political video embarrassing Democrats, related to my notifications disappearing? Was this the notifications punishment that FB has used so many times before but on a bigger, more obvious scale? Were they exercising their leverage to interrupt the conversation and curtail the flow of information? Where are the news stories about this? I looked and looked and found very little. Did they choose today because they knew most news outlets would be focused on impeachment and therefor unlikely to spend much time on a silly FB glitch? Surely, there were zillions of political posts on FB in recent days, as the Democrats delivered their case to the Senate. Did they choose today specifically to send a different message? The day that the President mounts his legal defense is the day FB decides to punish users for political content…???

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVEkDRgytCU)

28 notes · View notes

migleefulmoments · 4 years

Note

"No one will ever convince me he made that statement, and if you listen to his ACTUAL words about that, he didn’t say he wouldn’t take any more LGBTQ roles." Darren literally said that the gay community would have his head if he took another gay role but somehow to tinhats like Cassie, that means the next role he takes will be a gay character. I guess Darren meant that he knows the gay community will try to murder him, but he has faith in his ability to avoid their attempts. They're such freaks.

When they make grandiose and sweeping statements like this, I feel the full weight of the disinformation campaign they all embrace. Cassie claims “When you listen to his actual words…he didn’t say he wouldn’t take any more LGBTQ roles” so we have to see if she’s telling the truth or she’s manipulating reality in order to soothe their anxiety and allow them to easily fetishize the gay version of Darren.

What did Darren say? (You can read the entire Bustle piece (X))

“There are certain [queer] roles that I’ll see that are just wonderful,“ Criss explains when we speak at a recent event for Clorox’s What Comes Next in New York, a few days after he returned from an overseas tour with his Glee co-star Lea Michele. ”But I want to make sure I won’t be another straight boy taking a gay man’s role.“Although Criss says it’s “been a real joy” playing queer characters like Blaine, Cunanan, and Hedwig in the Broadway musical Hedwig and the Angry Inch, he now doesn’t feel comfortable taking those roles, which is “unfortunate,” he says. “The reason I say that is because getting to play those characters is inherently a wonderful dramatic experience,” he adds. “It has made for very, very compelling and interesting people.”

One of the reasons they claim they don’t think Darren said the words is because they claim that print interviews are fake:

12/18/18 ajw720 answered:

I would like to see a video as well, nonnie, as I don’t actually think he said any of this shit. Print articles are never, ever to be trusted. They are generally fabricated.

If you recall nonnie, D himself called out an article earlier this year (it may even be the one referred to in this piece of crap) for taking a quote of his out of context about his Filipino Heritage, likely as he was sick of being called white repeatedly. Fact is, while he is able to correct the “white” narrative, he, at this time, is not able to correct the straight narrative so he can’t even defend himself when this utter nonsense is published in his name.

First of all print articles aren’t generally fabricated and most CAN be trusted if you vet them properly. Claiming “ALL print articles are fabricated”- and therefore not to be trusted is a perfect cctrope because it gives them the out they need to label everything they don’t like-every single quote, every single story, and every single description as fake news. It’s the perfect strategy for ignoring everything Darren talks about that proves he isn’t Blarren- all the puns and sexual innuendos, all the crude comments, all the sweet things he says about Mia or his sexuality. All they have to do is remind their followers that it was in a print article and Woosh- it’s invalid. Trump is doing the same thing with his base-he’s grooming them to believe that the media is dangerous and that everyone fabricates stories about him. He calls them “the enemy of the people” so when the. NYT proves he laundered money for years through the Russian mafia or that he actively cheated during the 2016 election and is trying to cheat in 2020, his base will scream “fake news” and threaten to go all 2nd amendment on the rest of us.

Once again Abby uses something to prove her point but misses the fact that it actually proves she’s full of shit- Darren did push back on the interview where he was misquoted regarding his Filipino heritage but he hasn’t pushed back on any other interview he’s ever given. We can see he’s capable of pushing back, he’s interested in making sure he is quoted accurately and yet we’ve seen no other example- the reasonable conclusion is that is because the other interviews weren’t misquoted.

e Bustle piece and understand that he said he will no longer play LGBTQ characters. It’s clear that Darren has a far deeper understanding of the issue than Cassie and Abby. Splitting hairs and claiming he didn’t specifically say he would never play a bisexual or trans character is stupid. What Cassie and Abby are missing in the article is this paragraph:

This conversation about straight actors being cast in gay roles is about more than just LGBTQ actors losing out on Oscars, of course. It’s about Hollywood missing an opportunity to embrace new talent who would better serve these stories. And over the years, actors like Criss have become more sensitive to these types of concerns. The Versase star understands that there is an added honesty to actor getting to play characters who share their identities. “The commitment to that drama is told in such a way that it can really effectively reach people’s lives,” Criss says. “I think that really is important.”

Abby gets her wish- there is an audio recording of him making this statement-albeit it was 4 months prior to the Bustle interview and he seems to have evolved his understanding of the importance of representation in those 4 months. In the Hollywood Reporter interview he said:

“….But I do think about that now, you know, if roles come by that are LGBT leaning - I really think it would be insensitive to the gay community if I were to take another role. I think they’d have my head. You know, I would totally understand that. So I’m certainly cognizant of it. And while it is very tricky, I think the discussion and the questioning is really really important. And I think it’s good that we’re uncertain and I hope that we can find some kind of balance.” -Darren Criss, 8/26/18

I am an idiot and can’t remember how I got the audio portion of the interview on to my blog so I have to refer you to my old post if you want to hear Darren say the words (X).

I think you are correct- Darren is well aware the gay community will kill him but he doesn’t care because he has superpowers.

EDIT** I found this charming comment from Chrisdare who is a “journalist” yet she knows nothing about journalism. I got in an argument with her once and she schooled me that journalists aren’t educated.and will say anything a publicist tells them too. Whatever, Valentina, Google should be your friend.

Anonymous asked: It wouldn’t matter if you saw a video because you wouldn’t believe it anyway. You would say he was being forced to say it. Fact is CCers haven’t believed a thing

ajw720 answered:I believe many things nonnie. I also have a deep and fundamental understanding about hollywood works nonnie and that is something you clearly lack.

Further, if D was straight, i believe he would never allow them to portray him as an asshole. D is an incredibly intelligent human being, he knows exactly how negatively the straight push reflects on him. and frankly, it would not be necessary if he exclusively slept with female persons with vaginas.

Have a nice life living in delusionville.

chrisdarebashfulsmiles JCS shut the f** up.

When we talk about articles and how they are made we talk about facts. I hate when you come here busting balls on professional stuff when you don’t know anything. You can’t even imagine all the shit we do as journalist

It’s not a matter of cc but the fact they are ruining D’s life and career. And if you are a fan you need to start opening your eyes and stop being an enabler. I swear you should feel guilty when he will come out because you helped keeping him in the closet.

Talk about dellusionville!

**********Edit Edit *******(X)

chrisdarebashfulsmiles Because there’s a power of attorney that allows RR and Ab to do so. To say something D has to prove that the article is harmful and he has to do it through a legal action. And this means breach of contract with all it entails like the two years of stop from signing an anything.

That IS NOT how “power of attorney” works. But nice try- 10 points for originality and imagination!

***Edit Edit Edit *********

Anonymous asked: An article you should read to help you understand how journalism works .tinyurl/com/y9s49tms. German Reporter At Der Spiegel Fired for Fabricating Stories “On A Grand Scale”. “I’m so angry, horrified, shocked, stunned,” Der Spiegel deputy foreign editor Mathieu von Rohr tweeted Wednesday. “Claas Relotius faked, he cheated on us all.” Journalists can’t just make up stories or publish falsities no matter how much you want to believe that is happening in Hollywood.

chrisdarebashfulsmiles answered: It’s amazing how is crystal clear that you never worked in a magazine or in a PR firm. I work since 2004 and I don’t need an article… I know how it works. We aren’t talking about WSJ and serious stuff. We are talking about gossip and showbusiness so don’t try to be smug because you are failing.

Have nice day/ night wherever you are. :) it’s evening here and I’m enjoying my free time.

bjpb8 Oh, my gosh who is this person. People thrive on gossip and “Rags”. IT SELLS. First begain with papers like En/quire, The Globe, etc. Then spread to SM with blinds. You think other magazines and papers do not want to make money. Everyone prints what sells depending on audiences. Embellishment is part of the trade. They want to catch your interest, which feeds right into what PR wants to sell! Tts a sybiotic relationship at best! It is just some are more talented at making what sounds like truth out of lies. Its called entertainment. You might want ro “read” about it.

The author of the Bustle interview has a master’s degree in journalism from CUNY New York so it is more like the wall street journal than it is the “website” you work for Valentina. Journalists have a degree in journalism. Anyone can be a blogger - you’ve proved that.

****Edit Edit Edit Edit *******

D/arren did not write that post! (X)

12/19/18

ajw720 I have enough faith in Dar/ren Cri/ss personality and his respect and love for his fans to know that the comments attributed to him were not his. I’ve seem this happen before…I’m sure many of you have, also. Darr/en is stuck between a rock and a hard place right now. When he finally writes a memoir about this time, he will let us know about his anquish, anger and remorse. If one is a TRUE CC and Dar/ren fan, after years of roller-coaster rides via PR, et al…I will continue to take the advice of the person that runse THIS SITE. “Trust the process…”

***********************************************************************

@geminess We have to trust the process and believe that C and D are working hard towards an ending to this absolute tragedy that is legally clean and does not jeopardize either of their careers.

I believe in them, I cannot accept that D would ever willingly choose to represent himself in this manner and to continue this nightmare of a charade surrounded by utterly and completely vile, disgusting human beings.

Please, please, please may we be right. I cannot repeat enough there is no alternative ending that is acceptable but D breaking free by ending this sham of an encage, severing ties with his inhumane team, and eventually coming out.

And yesterday proved once again just how frightening the alternative is. I would fear for his career and his life. And it baffles and amazes me that anyone watching, even if you believe he is the straightest man alive, cannot see how harmful that article was. It was like he used the LGBT+ community to win his awards and is now ready to dismiss them.

(X) 12/19/18

Anonymous asked: On the bright side, this means we’re coming to the end right?

ajw720 answered: Anon, we honestly don’t know, but we can only hope. If D extends his time with these assholes, it will be very ugly for him personally and professionally.

But logic seems to say that this article, the literally offends every fan but the blind and naive, is wholly unnecessary if in fact they are going to continue a professional relationships. And it did not just the fans, think about how many award voters they offended yesterday with that utter piece of crap.

Absolutely and utterly unreal. Hard to believe they are able to get away with working against their client at every turn.

Logic? One thing the cc fandom has proven in the last 10 years is that they do not understand or care about logic.

12/24/18 (X)

ajw720 It’s interesting how there are such varying opinions on the “straight boy” article. And I think it comes down to 2 questions:

1. Do you believe D is a willing participant in his closeting?

2. Do you believe he actually said what the article alleges?

My answer to both is a resounding no (though he will be forced to validate the comments) and I have good reason to think this. But I certainly see why ones perspective is different if you answer one or both as yes.

This being said, no matter your answers to the above, I don’t see how it can be justified that he would dismiss b/laine in such a manner. And the timing, because I still think it makes him look like an ass and /or a coward as awards are voted for playing queer. And to repeat, I don’t think he should play queer again until his team is dismissed, so I’m not disagreeing with the premise, just the manner it was done, which again, I believe was without his consent.

Not posting to start a fight. Everyone is entitled to an opinion. I clearly am not afraid to state mine, which is very reasoned and based on a lot of information I’ve collected.

Just interesting that some very intelligent people, all of whom believe he’s closeted, can vary so much in what they believe.

#crisscolfer #Darren criss #Bustle #gay representation

10 notes · View notes

71tenseventeen · 5 years

Text

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)- 21

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story.

Perpetual credit to my betas, @queen-alia and @icosahedonist as well as the GC and @ljummen and @knifeshoeoreofight.

Dr. Agarwal officially clears Sidney from bedrest the next morning. He still can’t go back to work and he’s still postponing school but at least he can do a little more than he’s been doing since he got out of the hospital.

Once they’re back home and eating lunch, Geno grins at him as he raises his glass. “We celebrate, yes? I know is just little thing but maybe will make things little easier for you.”

Two weeks ago Sid wouldn’t have felt like something like this could be a celebration but now… He raises his glass of water with a soft smile. “Thanks G.”

Geno clears his throat as he lowers his glass. “So, been thinking. I know before, you say would be too hard to take night off to go to first game but thought maybe now you might want? Will be good way to get out a little bit. No pressure, Sid, but was hoping you come. Got tickets for all home games for you.”

“Oh.” Sid thinks about that for a second and realizes Geno is right. He does want to go and now he can but. “Will that—I mean what if people start asking questions?”

Geno shrugs as he stabs a grape tomato with his fork. “Been thinking about that. Maybe time to tell the team. At least some of them.”

Sid looks up, wide-eyed. “Really? Aren’t you afraid of something getting out?”

“Is already long time to keep secret and want you to be able to go to game, maybe even practice, other stuff without sneak around. Tired of keeping secrets, too hard. Bad if it leaks to media but worse to have team find out that way. Think it’s time to trust teammates to have my back.”

Sid chews his bottom lip anxiously.

“Sid.” Geno taps his hand gently. “Won’t do anything that stress you out too much but really think is okay. Already talk over with management and agent. It’s time.”

Sid takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay. Just—I’ll be really careful, too. I promise.”

“Not worried,” Geno smiles at him and Sid wonders for the millionth time how he can possibly be so calm about something that could end so badly for him.

And it hits him, then, how much Geno stands to lose and he’s moving forward anyway. He’s not letting fear stop him from doing what he needs to and Sid realizes that if Geno can do it then he can too. So he takes a deep breath and forces himself to meet Geno’s eyes. “Okay.”

That afternoon, while Geno works out, Sid settles into his favorite Penguins recliner and finally calls his parents.

The conversation goes about as well as Sid expected, which is not well at all. By the time he gets off the phone with them he’s in tears and his stomach is churning. He doesn’t think he was being loud but when he looks up, Geno’s standing in the doorway looking sympathetic. “You okay?”

Sid shrugs with a sigh. “It was pretty much what I expected.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He thinks about it before shaking his head. “Maybe later.”

“Okay, then I have better plan for right now. Get dressed. We’re go to eat best food, forget problems for awhile. Just get stuffed.”

Sid can’t argue with that and an hour later they’re digging into some of the most delicious Russian food Sid’s ever had at one of Geno’s favorite restaurants. And he was mostly right—maybe Sid hasn’t forgotten the anxiety of dealing with his parents, but spending an hour eating and talking and laughing with Geno helps. By the time they’re pleasantly stuffed and leaving, Sid feels more relaxed, cheerful even, as he settles in for the ride home.

Geno grins as they drive through the city. “You too full for dessert?”

“Never,” he says without hesitation.

“Good, I know best place.”

“You were right,” he garbles later, around a mouthful of the best milkshake he’s ever tasted.

They’re sitting in the car, Geno picking his way through fruit instead of ice cream but he seems happy enough with it.

“Always right.” Geno smirks.

It’s quiet for a bit before Sid finally says softly, “My parents think you’re going to kick me out when the baby is born. And, um, and keep the baby.”

Geno stops for a moment, dropping his spoon into the bowl before he speaks. “Would never do that Sid.”

“I know,” and he realizes he really believes it. “It’s just frustrating, trying to make them understand.”

Geno frowns. “You tell them about get sick? What happen to you?”

“Yeah. They said I should have come home to them instead of moving in with you.”

“That something you want?” he asks carefully, avoiding Sid’s eyes. “Rather live there?”

“No. No way. They’re—they would be too much to deal with. I mean—I would,” Sid fumbles, unsure of himself. “If I needed to. If it helped, I mean.”

Geno shakes his head, dropping his hand down over Sid’s. “Whatever you thinking, stop. Rather have you here, so we spend time and I’m take care,” he says. “And never going to take baby away or kick you out after have baby. I tell you before, we figure things out and I mean it. We parent together always.”

“I know, G. I do and I believe that. That’s why I’m here.”

Geno smirks and picks his spoon back up. “Of course. I’m best, you know?”

“Oh my god.” It feels nice to laugh together.

Part 22

#Take My Hand #my fic #sidgeno #mpreg #short update this time

126 notes · View notes

girlbookwrm · 5 years

Text

AVENGERS: CIVIL WAR

THE MIGHTY PRE ENDGAME REWATCH

it took us two entire days to watch this, back in whenever we were watching this. I’ve got a Bundle of Papers here in front of me, and the CW Bundle is by far the thickest, and that’s with minimal salt content.

Speaking of Salt: The Roommate and I had to approach this as an Avengers movie. Because otherwise the salt levels in this would be toxic, possibly fatal. Even so, ppl with high cholesterol be warned

LET’S DO THIS

1991!

Winter Soldier:

what is this

what is this please

dat beef tho

what is this op sec

honestly

NO mask

SHINY FUCKOFF ARM just HANGING OUT

CCTV???

~ooooooo he’s a ghooooooooooooost~

he’s got an extremely dedicated and very harried cleanup crew is what he’s got

OH! OLD LOGO ILU!!!

LAGOS!!

The Roommate: That’s a lot of sugar

i ain’t judging

what, you think her powers run on optimism?

is there an accent? is there not? Shroedinger’s accent.

droney the drone

sam’s lil sky roomba

i love him

guhhhh this scene every line shows character and growth and i just *clenches fist*

did

did falcon just throw steve

just yeeted him at the enemy?

god i love that

also: has steve bulked up since TWS?

that’s also on Sam, yeah?

CUT THE CHEEEEECCCCK

is this fucking NEUROTOXIN? STEVE WHERE’S UR MASK?

Steve, throwing himself into a room full of an unknown poison gas without a mask: I bet i can survive this

Bucky, in Bucharest: *breaks whatever he’s holding without knowing why*

god i love sam

“I don’t work like that no more” Means ?????????????

PARKOUR NAT

is also BRUNCH MOM NAT

“both grunting” is always one of my favorite subtitles

2 white boys fighting in the middle of the street like it’s a video game

god someone took the murder strut to heart wow that is some. that is some something that’s for sure.

give me even one (1) heterosexual explanation for "your pal your buddy your bucky"

there’s no way that bucky ever said this, right? this is just Rumlow fucking with steve, and the screenwriters fucking with us

because IN CASE YOU WERE NOT IN THIS FANDOM IN 2016, WE ALL THOUGHT CAP WOULD DIE IN THIS MOVIE

WE WERE SO SURE

wow i wonder if that will be relevant to anyone’s emotions here in the year of our lordt 2019

anyway, what bucky actually said was:

“please tell rogers... that he’s a big dumb dildo and he should wear a gas mask and also a parachute.”

listen i love this opening scene but also wanda is not at all responsible for this explosion and the fact that they act like she is undermines my ability to suspend my disbelief.

DIGITAL ENYOUTHENMENT ALERT

also, tony the fact that you are using your literal dead mom as an actual therapist is

wow

BARF feels right to me

too real, tony

it’s too real

how ARE you getting around the strings and taxes tho

Also can i say that i actually love that Pepper’s absence is this profoundly important to the story. The hole where pepper should be is a huge part of this story and i like that. i like that a lot.

WOW THAT EXTRA IS LIKE A MASHUP OF NAT AND WANDA. SHE IS THE GENERIC MARVEL WHITE LADY

more a+ visual storytelling with the elevator

I’m just so mad that they blame wanda and play that straight?

all they had to do was outright acknowledge one (1) time that the media is picking on her because she’s a woman/a foreigner

imagine that speech coming from nat instead of steve

though i do love Steve’s pep talk

again. give me one (1) heterosexual explanation

though why not have Steve say “they’re just bullies, you did the right thing” and hearken back to smolsteeb

The Roommate: Remember how i was mad at his Oscars Velvet Blazer? I am also mad at this sweater.... it looks... so soft... i don’t know if i want it on him or off him... just wanna tuch....... and wear..........?”

Vision’s Ascot is. Something else man.

The Roommate: Why is ross secretary of state?

Me: Why is Trump President

Me: I bet Ross is vegan

the roommate, who has vegan-related trauma: UUUUGGGHHHHHHHH

Nat's reaction to vigilantes: Bitch please. she is Unbothered.

you don’t have to show us footage we’ve got the ptsd nightmares

400 pages in 3 days

[tired american sighing]

we honestly can’t even criticize this plot point anymore just

[my longest and most american sigh]

CLEVELAND!!!

hail hydra continues to be the Most Terrible last words

but WHY does ross have the congressional medal of honor

do you know how HARD it is to get one of those????

yeesh

sassy black friends sassing at each other

is definitely a

thing that is happening rn

Vision: Well Actually

no one cares, vis

ok like

a kid is dead but

3.6 is an okay GPA

maybe all my friends are overachievers

maybe it’s just because most of them are women but like

it’s an okay GPA

i’d have 8000% more respect for Tony if he was more upfront like “look this is on me” especially here

are we supposed to be picking all this up as subtext, actually?

because i know that this movie ALSO had a Troubled Youth ala ant man

and i really do appreciate the Russos for relying on a smart audience but there’s a lot going on

and it’s very obvious to me that they had to shift gears 18,000 times in the script writing phase

so like, you’ve got old man vet steve

but it’s painfully obvious that he missed vietnam right?

it’s painfully obvious

and he’s v egotistical and self righteous too

it IS a battle of the egos

and no one is right

except natasha

Steve: i have to go

me: mood

LONDON!!!!

oh god

oh god no

steve god no steve oh god

gfhskfdjjjksjdjjhrrrrhrhhrhfhh [wailing and rending of garments]

Re Peggy’s age:

SURPRISE IT’S ACTUALLY PLAUSIBLE

so the True Hallmark of a Cap Movie is Peggy telling steve what to do.

so weird to have that in an avengers movie

i do love this. GOOD BRO NAT CONTENT

Um. is vision a minor? is wanda?

again, nat is the only Correct one here

stay together guys

it might be

reeeeeeaaaaally important in

*checks watch*

two years’ time.

~hug~

VIENNA!!!!!

CHAD WICK! CHAD! WICK! CHAD! WICK!

god i love the xhosa in this

There is a level of worldbuilding in this that we p much only get from the russos/markus&mcfeely. i mean -- internal consistency worldbuilding? if that makes sense? we get a lot of visual worldbuilding in black panther, but this is distinctly different and hard to articulate and it has to do with the way they approach things and how they assume audience intelligence

it just works for me

oh no chadwick boseman don’t be cry

Sharon deserves better

than being cockblocked by her own aunt

and also sam wilson (who also deserves better)

cryptid!bucky

Nat did you get that suit from jenny agutter?

LA Brunch Mom Nat

mah girl

she’s just so tired

steve (bless him) is just so exhausting

couples date sam and steve dressed to match

“at the gym”??? really? the arm is... a bit of a giveaway

i do feel bad for zemo in this one specific case

russian IS hard

how. did he get that in there?

Soft Plumboy Bucky

BEEF

Captain’s Log: Buck’s place is a shithole

Sergeant’s Log: Steve’s face is pretty

surprise bitch

“That’s Smart, Good Strategy” is an excellent phrase to use in everyday conversation in order to weed out who Knows and who Doesn’t.

What i have learned from civil war:

Captain America is a projectile weapon

further query:

did bucky ever hurl small steve at assailants?

Bucky: *punts steve down an alley*

Steve, 90 lbs of rage at 90 mph: GET WRECKED

Bucky’s got big tommy wiseau cryptid energy here

And now there’s a cat

bucky:

I love this vampire running and also bucky’s thighs

Steve Rogers: Excuse me sir I need to commandeer this vehicle. YEET.

Bucky Barnes: Excuse me sir I need to commandeer this vehicle. YOINK.

Bucky and Steve: Wrecking your morning commute since 2014

WAR MACHINE!!!

god vis has the biggest dorkiest crush

so vis are you a child prodigy? or? what?

The Roommate, a cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure: vis have you eaten anything between CW and IW?

Me, sinnamon roll, not to be trusted: *dying* *thinking about how Vision’s got schroedinger’s dick. does it exist? does it not exist? who knows.*

Me: Y. Yes. I th. think he has. eaten something. between now and. and IW. something.

The Roommate: *betrayed look*

Me: DEEP FRIED KEBAB MAYBE? I DON’T KNOW.

The Roommate: *is so disappointed*

BERLIN!!!!!!

Bucky is. So tired. Let him rest.

fucking up the morning commute again i see

u like cats??

I love the ratio of overkill:ineffectiveness with this glass box they put him in.

why did tony bring these fancy pens

the time spent explaining them could’ve been spent doing literally anything else

*i still don’t understand the accords*

GOD STEVE WANTS TO BE AN UNCLE SO BAD

“my fault”

there it is

“truth is i don’t want to stop”

THERE it is

“i thought the accords could split the difference”

THERE IT IS

"no, i don’t.”

THERE IT IS

“IT’S INTERNMENT.”

THERE! IT! IS!

gah.

wanda’s accent et al -- MAKE IT EXPLICIT MARVEL YOU COWARDS

no but really what are the accords

here followed a 20-30 minute convo about the accords

basically the summing up was:

Nat is 100% Right Ross is 100% Wrong Everyone Else is In A Grey Area

look this is actually a really good avengers movie

but

this is a moment when the back catalogue works against them because this conversation is so -- it implies a lot of friendly interactions between these two. they seem to have a relationship

but i keep looking at all the other movies they’ve interacted in like

BITCH WHERE? WHERE IS THE TONYSTEVE FRIENDSHIP? WHERE???

i am anticipating this will cause me A Grief later

The Roommate, looking at Steve in his Grey Shirt and Jacket: Damn, sir. Stop wearing clothes.

“BIRD COSTUME???”

“j a m e s”

big holt talking to rosa vibes there

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

A VAST AND MIGHTY MOOD

Zemo’s plan is so ridiculous i genuinely don’t have time to get into it i still have two pages of notes to get through holy shit.

this fight scene. does things. for me.

hhhHNNNNHGH BEEFSTEAK

(oh tony left with no suit? growth dot gif)

THIGHS

T H I G H S ! ! ! !

CHADWICK!

Sam out here, serving looks, casually modeling

B I C E P S ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

TOO SEXY! *crashes helicopter*

I need twelve more scenes of steve and bucky faffing about in the water.

A more effective restraint than the custom made bucky bottle

(BRIEF 1991)

haaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAa biceps u stop that

Is Tony having a heart attack???

he has no concept of how to treat children because he never was one oh no i gave myself a sad feeling

QUEENS!!!!!!!

“I’m having a big fight in a parking lot with my superhero friends better go pick up a child as backup.” - tony stark

tony he doesn’t have a passport and if he understood what was happening he would not be on your side

Now That’s What I Call Vigilantism.

Why are you bringing a CHILD to a gun fight

Tony’s face, to me, suggests that he knows EXACTLY what he’s doing

also? it’s painfully obvious to me that these scenes were copypasted in late stage when they finally found out that yes they would have the rights to spiderman lol

for some reason they don’t feel the need to tell is that this is avengers compound in 400 point font

i’m so lost

where are we?

without the 400 point font i can only assume we are on mars

THAT’s a fine way to greet YOUR FATHER, WANDA

hawkeye is in fact the team lynchpin

is it

ugh

is it because they listen to him but he listens to natasha

ugh

i bet it is

UUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH

Vision: I have been FALLING! for THIRTY MINUTES!

“i know someone who does”

i’m confused by the cut here, because it seems to imply that Sharon, deliberately or inadvertently, rats them out to natasha?

Birds and raccoons do not get along

steve

steve no

steve

ur timing is shit steve

Scott Lang might be the best thing in this movie

well except for Dat Bone Structure

CUT THE CHEEEEEECK

*costume change in a parking lot to the yakkety sax soundtrack*

Thinking about the coming battle i am forced to concede that Iron Man Has A Point?

“do you really want to punch your way out of this?”

Steve: I ALWAYS wanna punch my way out

god scott’s such a fukkin nerd

tiny quibble but Scott “got punched by hope van dyne” lang would never say that to the black heckin widow

“gimmick”

people in falcon houses shouldn’t throw spider stones, samuel

wanda

those cars belong to people

oh god iron man has a point

LET’S GO LESBIANS! COME ON LESBIANS LET’S GO

*catfight sounds*

“then why did you run?”

dude you attacked me in a catsuit

Tony’s true superpower is that he knows steve, that’s how spiderbabby gets the upper hand

althought god

Tony was pre-gaslighting peter

he was pilotlighting peter

*my longest UGH yet*

“Queens?” “Brooklyn”

MAXIMUM NEW YORK ACHIEVED

ant man is the MVP

hmmmmmm “we don’t trade lives” HMMMMMMMMM

why did that truck explode

also *omg iron man has a point*

tony tedward stark how did you not know how old this child was

also peter stop pretending you don’t know what Empire Strikes Back, AT-ATs and Hoth are.

why doesn’t Vis get more flack for this

hey. hey tony. you know what sam is? A MEDIC. maybe let him LOOK AT YER FRIEND THERE instead of SHOOTING HIM IN THE FACE.

zemo’s plan is noooooonseeeeennnnnnsssse

guh these two beautiful men emoting in different directions KILL ME

this doctor is just like “yup there’s a giant purple robot here seems legit”

natasha is the only one who’s 100% right

did... did the russos kill themselves in this movie? did they cast themselves as dead extras? was this a statement of some kind?

HOW did ross get the congressional medal of honor. H O W.

“you read it”

NO ONE READ IT, IT’S 400 PAGES

tony this is Some Nonsense

ffflslkds he’s taking one of Nat’s guns KILL ME

one (1) heterosexual explanation.

rode back in a freezer truck

got pneumonia

already had pneumonia

and you blew three whole dollars on some slut

(seriously. gimme one. i’m waiting.)

srsly tho, whether you ship it or not, these two are old marrieds

the red star looks weird on his beefcake arm. did they forget to scale it up?

KITTY

listen zemo is just really turned on by cam and he didn’t mean to say that and that’s the most relateable thing he’s done so far.

It’s not just that bucky killed his mom. it’s that bucky killed his mom AND STEVE KEPT IT FROM HIM.

life alert a senior citizen has fallen

T'Challa, observing this White Nonsense™: I truly should... check myself. Before! I wreck myself.

agism is what it is

god this bit

steve dropping the shield

look at him

he is Stick A Fork In Him D O N E

Rhodey really deserves better than this? He deserves development showing the evolution of his opinion between here and IW

i wish we could get more of him grappling with this

that said

gosh wouldn’t it fucking suck if Cap and Bucky got relegated to End Credit scenes in their own got damn movie to make room for Iron Man to emote at his buddy his pal his rhodey?

*looks directly into the camera like i’m on the office.*

Anyway.

Steve rogers: getting the last word in every argument since 1918.

“from the bottom of my heart: My Bad.”

#The Mighty Pre Endgame Rewatch #cacw

54 notes · View notes

absinthc-blog · 5 years

Text

( kim seokjin, cismale, he/him, 26. ) — CHOI MINWOO, better known to the authorities as PROMETHEUS, has been working for the kumiho for around SEVEN YEARS as a COORDINATOR. rumor has it, they can be ADAPTABLE & CONCILIATORY but also HAUGHTY & MATERIALISTIC which is why crystal champagne flutes, black cards, cigar smoke, and tailored suits makes me think of them.

okay first and foremost i want to say a genuine THANK YOU to each and every one of you for showing interest in this group ! truly, it's been my baby for a while now & i'm so glad i was able to ( with help from ness, obviously ) bring it back for all of us to enjoy ! words can't express how grateful i am for all of you & for the out pour of love and support we've received for kumiho ! now... onto the usual intro stuff !

hello, i'm gem, i'm 21+, i go by she / her pronouns and i live in the cst timezone ! i absolutely love pain, angst & ruining my characters lives. i also tend to use memes all the time so if we're talking.. just prepare for memeage. also a fun fact that literally know one asked for but i'm giving it to you anyways: i cried the first time i ever saw a corgi in real life & proceeded to run across a busy street to be able to pet it ! okay now for real, onto the things you're really here for !

this dude right here is minwoo, he's a tiny bit of a trashy mess but honestly i can't seem to play characters that aren't a mess ? his backstory is still a work in progress, but below the cut is basic stats / bullet proof bio / personality traits / basic wanted plots & a few more random things !

if you'd like to plot, feel free to add me on discord ( 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾 𝕆𝕆𝔽.#9330 ), im me or SMASH that little heart button & i'll come to you !

GENERAL INFORMATION.

full name: choi minwoo. nickname(s): min, woo, minnie. date of birth: tbd. age: twenty-five. nationality: korean. spoken languages: korean, english, chinese, japanese, thai, french, spanish, german & russian. gender: cismale. pronouns: he / him / his. sexuality: bisexual. faceclaim: kim seokjin ( jin ) of bts. BACKGROUND. hometown: daegu, south korea. current residence: seoul, south korea. financial status: upper class. occupation: coordinator. family connections: tbd.

EXTRA INFORMATION.

myers briggs: entp-a. ( the debater. ) enneagram: seven. ( the enthusiast. ) temperament: choleric. moral aligment: neutral evil. hogwarts house: slytherin. sin: gluttony. virtue: pride. zodiac: tbd. element: fire.

BIOGRAPHY.

born and raised in daegu, south korea.

parents were both incredibly well known. one being a lawyer, one being a ceo of a multi-million dollar corporation.

they weren't around a lot due to how busy their schedule was, so minwoo was mostly raised by the nannies / maids that were always around.

there was a tiny bit of resentment that minwoo held towards his parents for never being around that he'd take that out on the nannies, so much so they had a hard time keeping a full-time nanny hired. they'd constantly quit their jobs due to how minwoo treated them.

after a while, though, the choi's were able to find one nanny in particular that didn't take minwoo's attitude personally & didn't allow it to effect their job. in fact, they started to reprimand min for the way he was acting out.

at first, of course, minwoo didn't take well to that at all. he got more angry, started getting more of an attitude. but after a while, he grew tired of it.. finally breaking down & it was then that the nanny figured out why he was lashing out at every person that happened to be doing the job his parents were supposed to be.

minwoo started to calm down after that day, finally starting to realize that it wasn't the nannies fault that his parents were always working and couldn't be around to raise him like he really wanted them to be.

it was then that his grades started to get better, attitude improving almost completely. sure, there were days where it still got to him, but for the most part he stopped taking it out on everyone but the people actually responsible for the way he felt.

his school days after that went really well, acing all of his classes and staying at the top of his grade the entire time. things got different around high school, though. his parents started breathing down his neck about either becoming a ceo or a lawyer.

neither of those things is actually what minwoo wanted to do, fully unsure of what he wanted to do with his life. but he didn't want to let either of them down, so in his free time he ended up studying for both things.

completely letting his 'free' time go in order to please both of his parents caused him to start building up his aggression & resentment once more.

he couldn't take it for much longer, his parents constantly yelling at him to get his shit together caused him to hate school, hate studying for both things that he doesn't want to do...

so one day, he snapped. his father bursting through his room as he was taking a break only to start yelling & instead of falling back into line, minwoo got up & got in his father's face and began yelling back. telling his father that what his parents wanted him to do wasn't what he wanted at all.

his father didn't take too kindly to that, basically telling minwoo that if he didn't want to do either of the things his parents wanted him to do, he could move out and deal with life on his own.

to prove a point, that's exactly what minwoo did, moving into his aunt's house as he finished high school, finding multiple part-time job that'd pay the bills he needed to pay as well giving his aunt some for rent just because she willingly let him in.

those were also something he didn't want to do, but he did them anyways just to be able to have some sort of income.

after he graduated high school, he had tons of colleges that wanted him to join them just because of how good his grades were, but that also didn't seem to be something he wanted to do.

he declined each and every one of them with little to no regret, his aunt supporting the decision even though she wanted to see him do something better with his life.

those words stuck with him as he finally moved out of her home & into a small apartment, busting his ass to constantly be able to pay bills.

it wasn't until he met someone at the bar he worked at that his life started to take a turn for the better. the mastermind happened to frequent the place he worked, always giving minwoo a hard time about doing better things with his life, only for minwoo to brush it off.

but one night, min finally got curious, asking the mastermind what that meant. that's when the offer to join the kumiho was set in place. the mastermind had seen how determined minwoo was, overheard min talking about the four shitty jobs he had to work in order 'survive' just because he didn't want to even touch the money his parents constantly kept sending him just out of spite.

minwoo actually started out in the kumiho as a runner, getting things that the crew needed & hiding in plain sight.

however, the second that the mastermind found out about minwoo's studies, they were quick to suggest something more, explaining the difficulties of being a coordinator & explaining why they thought minwoo would be perfect for the job.

minwoo was skeptical at first, though it only took a few days of debating with himself before he agreed & ever since then, he's done his best. he wanted to make sure that the mastermind was proud of the choice they'd made.

PERSONALITY.

most of the time, minwoo seems pretty cocky & sarcastic.

can be extremely blunt when it comes to certain things, even if his words might happen to hurt someone else.

extremely selfish for the most part, always looks out for himself before he looks out for others... but he does still care about others, even though he barely shows it.

also loves to "one up" others, it's the competitive side of him but he usually does so in a playful / teasing way.

he's deep down really goofy & loves to have fun. loves to explore & goof off whenever possible.

has the tendency to hate commitment, so whenever feelings start getting involved, his knee-jerk reaction is to run & avoid it at all cost.

is one of those people who pretends to hate everything & be really serious but will dance around his room in his boxers when he thinks no one can see him.

a very two-sided person but not in a way that could be seen as fake.. he's just got a very serious side of him vs the goofy, fun loving one that doesn't get to be seen as often.

extremely serious when it comes to his job, though. will call people out on the smallest of mistakes if he thinks it'll effect any of the heists. he really has no issue with confrontation & will do so if he thinks it's needed.

absolutely loves to cook, picked that up when he was living with his aunt. he started cooking dinner and meals so that his aunt didn't have to whenever she got home.

also a tiny a bit neat freak so he gets a tiny bit stressed out whenever headquarters is a little bit messy and will either just clean up the messes or get snippy with everyone until he figures out who did it.

loves fashion, constantly is seen going to fashion shows to try and keep up with the latest trends & constantly is buying clothes & accessories.

also loves cars, will buy the latest and greatest models of each and every sports car that comes out.

his 'socialite' side comes out the most during events where he's around a bunch of people, creating new ties with whoever he can knowing connections like those will help him gain new followers & things like that.

known for modeling & his instagram / social media posts, gaining a following just because of his 'ootd' posts as well as the snapchat videos he posts about his daily life.

PLOT IDEAS.

bad influence. ( on your muse. )

best friends.

brotp.

confidant.

current hook up(s).

drinking / party buddies.

drunken hook up.

enemies that used to be friends.

exes who ended on bad terms.

flirtationship.

will they / won’t they.

friends with benefits.

good influence. ( on minwoo. )

hate sex.

one night stand(s). ( past & present. )

partner in crime.

past hook up(s).

ride or die.

trouble makers.

unlikely friends.

#kumiho.intro #— ⟢ paging captain dumbass ⦂ ⋰ * ✧ out of character.

9 notes · View notes

candle-light-writings · 5 years

Text

New Art Store

Colossus x Reader

Summary: You work at an art store that has opened recently, and you first meet Piotr there.

Word count: 1,600+

A/N: Ahhh my first post! I’m really nervous about posting this, but I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to leave some feedback.

——————————————————————————————————————————

It was another day of mindless, easy work. The art store you work at is quite small, as it’s a new business and opened a few months ago, but it’s welcoming. You just needed a job to pay off student loans, and earn extra money for future retail therapy, so you were able to land a job here. From there, you’ve have been working here since day one.

Other than that, you also have your freelance work. It can be tiring, but nonetheless, you enjoy it. Being surrounded by the large variety of art media, materials, and books keeps you motivated to make art, and most importantly, from hating your job.

You were the first and only employee in for the morning, and it could not have been any easier. All you had to do was pack a few orders that were made online and make sure everything was stocked on the shelves. Knowing it would be a quiet morning - as the regular customers come in around afternoon - you decided to get started with the first task of packing orders.

You were taking your time with the task, until you heard the door bell chime. Huh, it’s a bit too early for people coming in, but what the heck. You went to see the person who came in. For the first time in your life, you have never felt so intimidated and confused, until now. The man, who was standing at the front door, was looking around the store, and judging by his face, he already looked lost. Aside from that, his giant, muscular frame caught you off guard, causing you to become so shocked, and slightly scared. How could a guy like him be in a shop like this? Was he just getting into art? You’ve never seen him around before. You approached him and tried to greet him, but to no avail, words failed you - you couldn’t even say a simple hi, how are you? and you were left with your mouth slightly open. Mentally scolding yourself, you were to quick to regain your composure and asked, “Are you alright, sir?”

The man took notice of you, and you took the chance to just absorb his figure in more detail. From his square jaw, blue eyes, and black slick-back hair (and, wow, that thick neck) you had to admit, you thought he was handsome. He must be some wrestler or body-builder. While you were now admiring his build, he cleared his throat, smiled sheepishly then answered in a thick Russian accent, “I was wondering where you keep all the painting materials.” Once again, you had to take a few seconds to register how soothing his voice is. When you get home, you had to give yourself a pep talk on not being easily infatuated. Other than that, he was definitely new here.

You showed the man where the painting supplies are. “If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.” You said. In response he replied with, “Of course, thank you.”

You went back to packing the ordered items, finishing up the first one within a few minutes. Nobody came in throughout the morning, leaving you with that man. Speaking of him, while you were taking a look at the next order, you never heard any movement from him. Confused, and convinced that he never left(because you never heard the door bell), you went to see if he was still in the painting aisle. And there he was. Standing exactly where you last left him.

He was looking at the same paints, but he was frowning. Did he not like what the shop was offering? Sure it was small, and not that popular, you made sure that the best were in stock. Perhaps he’s a beginner, and maybe you should offer some advice. Maybe he just can’t decide which brand to choose from. Anyways, you were growing concerned at how indecisive he’s been for the last five minutes.

You didn’t even know whether to leave him be (believing he’ll pick whatever and go) or not. You decided to take the latter. “Uh...uh, sir?” You squeaked. God he looked so intimidating at this state. He blinked then turned his attention to you, then smiled sheepishly. You were able to relax as you thought he probably didn’t want to bother you. “Would you like some help?” You asked. He paused, then smiled and nodded, bashfully. “Yes, please. Uh, very much.”

You came to him and surveyed what paints he was looking at. Racks of oil paint tubes organised by brands from lightest to darkest from around the colour wheel. They were also organised by the amount of paint each had. “I don’t think you no longer have what I’m looking for.” He said, pointing at an empty rack where it was supposed to hold large titanium white paints. It’s a popular item.

Taking another look at him, he smiled nervously, scratching the back of his head. Poor guy, you thought, he should’ve asked you instead of standing there and wasting time. “I’ll go look if we have some more. Just wait a moment, if you don’t mind.” You said. He nodded and you left him to go to the storeroom to find if there was more in stock. Luckily, there was.

You came back carrying a whole box of titanium white, worth weighing more you can barely carry. He saw you trying to make it to the counter and rushed towards you to carry the package. “Bozhe moi, you’ll hurt yourself.” He murmured, placing the box on the counter. “Thanks,” You exhaled, regaining your breath. You began to feel sore in your arms, but that didn’t bother you. “Don’t worry about me.” You assured him, but he looked worried. It was thoughtful of him to care, but really, you were fine. So you changed the topic instead.

“We had more, except I haven’t shelved them yet. My bad.” You apologised and opened the box, revealing a fresh supply of clean, large white paint tubes.

“This what you wanted, right?” You asked, to which he nodded in response. “Just two, please.” He added. “Great,” You grabbed the amount he asked for then set the box on the floor, as a reminder to shelve them after you serve this man. “Is there anything else you need? Sometimes I get customers coming back in and it’s kinda embarrassing for them.” You laughed lightly, and he did too. You took note on how... lovely, his laugh was. For a big guy like him, he was so gentle and kind, and that made you want to know more about him. You found him so friendly and approachable.

“No, that is all I want.” He said, bringing you back to reality.

After he paid for the paints and thanked you, he took another view of the store. “This is a very nice shop. I wonder how I’ve never seen this before.” He said, almost to himself. You shrugged, but smiled a little. “It’s still new. We opened a few months ago, but honestly, I don’t think there’s anything special about this place. It’s just another art store.” You realised your mistake of being too honest and thinking that it’s bad for the business. You were just used to having open conversations with customers because you believed that having a mutual relationship with them will make them come back and build a positive reputation. Besides, he didn’t seem to care.

“It’s a good place to open here. I won’t have to travel far anymore.” He joked, and you laughed because it was true for you.

“Yeah, I see where you’re coming from. It can be annoying when you just wanted something small, like paint.” You pointed at the small bag containing the items he purchased.

The two of you spent some more time chatting about art related things from advice, how long you’ve been making art, and sharing favourite art forms. The more you talked to him about these things, you wanted to see his artworks. However, you realised how much time has passed and apologised.

“You must be in a rush, I’m so sorry!” You said as panic started to build up in you. You also realised how much you’ve opened up to this man. Both of you are total strangers, but it was so easy to form a friendship with just one thing in common. You also felt like you could trust him.

He remained calm and patted your shoulder gently. “Nyet, it’s alright. I’m in no hurry, but I should get going though.” He reached out his free hand to you, offering a quick handshake, which you happily take.

“Pardon my terrible manners, I should’ve introduced myself before. I’m Piotr, but Pete may be easier for you.” He grinned. Goodness, his manners were way too far from terrible. He was a true gentleman, and you were growing fond of him.

“Nice to meet you, Piotr,” Your attempt at pronouncing his name made him laugh light heartedly, in a not bad manner. “I’m ________, and it was nice meeting you. I hope you’ll come by again.” You grinned as you let go of his hand.

“I believe I will. I’m starting to think that this might be my new favourite shop. See you again.” He said, then left the store.

From that experience, both of you knew that your friendship will continue to grow from there. Maybe to something more. Thinking about this made you slap yourself. “Get it together, _______, you just met him.” You hissed at yourself. You sighed, because honestly, you couldn’t wait to see him again.

It’s funny how art can literally bring people together.

#colossus x reader #colossus imagine #piotr rasputin x reader #piotr x reader #colossus #piotr rasputin #when i found out that he was an artist i just...

134 notes · View notes