#viktoria square | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stray-kaz · 1 year

Text

The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : three

A bit of 18 and up, y’all.

Early the following morning, you rounded a corner humming to yourself, only to pull up short and duck back out of sight, peeking around the wall’s edge as Walt and your father were deep in what appeared to be a sombre conversation.

Or, at least, your father seemed serious, but Walt, facing your way down the corridor, was trying to suppress a smile. His eyes flicked toward you and you knew you were caught, but to your pleased surprise, he didn’t mention your presence to your dad.

You wondered what they were talking about, what point your father could be striving to get across. Walt’s hands pushed into his pockets and he nodded along, pasting a sober expression on his face.

“I would never besmirch your daughter’s honour in such a way” he said reassuringly, raising his voice just a little louder than necessary so that you could hear.

You rolled your eyes as you flushed. So that was what they were talking about. Your father was instructing Walt not to bed you until your wedding night. You wondered how well that promise would hold up.

You turned around and came face to chest with one of the tallest women you had ever encountered. You blinked and raised your eyes to hers, which were narrowed and jealous. Viktoria.

“So you’re the favourite” she said, venom dripping.

Heart pounding, you squared your shoulders and faced up to her.

“What if I am?” you retorted; she looked surprised.

She opened her mouth again, but before she could speak, a man’s hand landed on your shoulder and you glanced up into Walt’s face, his silvery blue eyes icy cool.

“Viktoria” he said lightly. “You seem to have forgotten your manners. And my rules. Are you going deaf in your old age?”

You watched her bristle, sharp as a porcupine. She slowly shook her head, long dark hair swaying around her shoulders.

“No, Walter” she said calmly, her eyes flashing sparks. “I am not going deaf.”

He lifted his chin, eyeing her.

“Then listen” he said firmly. “She will be one of us soon. Hold off at least until she can fight back.”

A glimpse of pearly white teeth bared in a snarl disguised as a grin.

“My pleasure” she purred, and swirled past you in a whirlwind of silks.

You shuddered and Walt turned you to face him, tilting your head back with a single finger beneath your chin.

“I apologise for her” he said gently. “She was given orders not to come anywhere near you. She should have heeded them.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, as if your heart wasn’t still hammering, out of both fear and exhilaration.

“She’s jealous of me?” you asked him.

He nodded, cool eyes warming.

“You have known about this almost since you could walk. Known about me. You have been given time to prepare and whole days with me without fear. Viktoria and Lucy were never given any of that. You are special, my love.”

“They were afraid of you?”

“No” you answered truthfully, and he stared at you, head to one side, studying.

Walt raised his eyebrows, faint amusement curling into a smile.

"You are not?"

You hesitated to think, then shook your head.

“No, you aren’t, are you?” he mused, intrigued. “There is something else, though, isn’t there?”

He cocked his head to the other side and you felt heat flood your face again as he scrutinised you, then he came suddenly nearer and dipped his head to nose along your jawbone, then down to the line of your throat, inhaling.

“Ahh, now” he murmured, almost moaning against your fluttery pulse. “You want me. Don’t you?”

It was barely phrased as a question; you were afraid to look at him, he was so close. You clenched your thighs together, denim dragging against your skin. He chuckled in your ear and stepped away, watching as you moved a step after him, your eyes wide, ache unfulfilled between your legs.

Walt tsked gently at you, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

“I made a vow to your father that I would not bed you until you wear my ring on your finger.”

Wordlessly, barely breathing, you held up the diamond and ruby ring on your left hand. He laughed quietly again, admiring your effort.

“My other ring” he amended. “You can wait that long, can’t you, darling?”

A wild impulse seized you, and you stretched up on your toes to kiss his cheek, his skin smooth under your lips. You left a faded red lip print behind, leftover from the lipstick you wore at all times now. You loved the effect seeing you in red had on him.

Walt blinked down at you slowly, his dark lashes shadowing his cheekbones. Then suddenly, his hand was at your throat, surprisingly gentle, his long fingers cupping the base of your jaw, his thumb pressing up against your thrumming pulse. He sighed as he brought his lips down to your forehead, your eyelids fluttering closed as he touched you.

“Red on you” he muttered, still holding you in place. “It makes me... It makes me...”

His words trailed away and you were able to move just enough to glance down and see a strain of material at the front of his tailored slacks. He sighed again as the breath left your lungs in a soft whoosh.

Walt stepped back from you again, releasing your throat, leaving no marks. He rubbed absently at his kissed cheek, traces of your lipstick coming off on the pads of his fingers.

“Miss Alexander, my darling” he crooned, words deceptively silky in your ears. “You are going to try my patience.”

And with that, he turned and left you standing there in the hallway, gazing after him, longing and burning.

A/N: This is a little bit of a filler chapter, but still necessary I feel.

Tagging: @hellomadamebutterfly

#the invitation #walt de ville #walt de ville x reader #walter de ville x reader #liss writes

104 notes · View notes

hurremshiv · 1 year

Text

Worst Magnificent Century takes explanation part 1

I promised I would do this so here it is.

Süleyman was a good person

At no point in this show was he ever a good person. Even in season 1 he was cruel to Mahidevran, emotionally abusive towards Mustafa, infantilised Hürrem and not only killed Viktoria’s husband at their wedding but he also eventually raped her. It is absolutely not a stretch that he became who he did by the end of the show.

Ibrahim was a good person

He used Matrakci and took advantage of him. Both in forcing Matrakci to be the one to kill Viktoria and in using him for the sham Nigar marriage scheme. Without any consideration for the cost of this for Matrakci. Who was supposedly his friend. He cheated on Hatice and told her to her face that he didn’t regret it. He uses Nigar for his own ego and separated her from Esmanur. And he killed Leo in an extremely sadistic way.

Barbarossa was a hero

From the Giulia Gonzaga incident, Firuze saying that he picked her up and Nurbanu being brought in by him it’s pretty clear that Barbarossa was heavily involved in both war crimes and trafficking women to bring to the harem. The fact that Magnificent Century tried to sell him as a hero was honestly laughable and extremely discordant with a show that at least tried to be somewhat aware of the tragedy of the women who had been enslaved.

Hürrem was a girlboss heroine

Hürrem was never going to be this type of character. Not with the things that her historical counterpart has been accused of doing. And with the fascination that pop culture has with the girlboss villain archetype. Besides especially in the final 2 seasons the show sides squarely with Mustafa over her. Rather Hürrem is a deconstruction and arguably even at times a subversion of the girlboss villain trope. The fact that she is as worth rooting for as she is is purely accidental.

Hürrem was a wicked stepmother girlboss villain

I just said she’s a deconstruction of the girlboss villain trope. But that’s what she is: a deconstruction of it. There is a lot more complexity to her than this trope and she has her fair share of redeemable qualities. Also, it is also good to contextualise her actions rather than simply agreeing with or condemning them. She isn’t a cartoon villain and should not be treated as such.

Mahidevran was an evil villain

This holds even less water than in Hürrem’s case. Because Mahidevran isn’t even based on a villainous archetype. She’s not even an antagonist considering how much screentime and sympathy the show has for her, even at the beginning. Because she gets more of that than most antagonists would. Instead what she is is the ‘set aside woman’ character type but as an antiheroine. Also for all her faults and misdeeds Mahidevran just isn’t evil.

Mahidevran was just an unproblematic martyred heroine

She had her character flaws and did her fair share of bad things. Like I just said, she’s an antiheroine.

Hürrem had nothing to worry about if Mustafa took power

As much as the show tries to sell this idea in the later seasons, it just isn’t true. Mustafa loved his brothers and would not want to fulfil the fratricide law. But he would be under pressure from his mother and the army to do so. Besides if he wasn’t outright forced to comply, either of them or the secret organisation could easily have had his brothers killed without his prior knowledge or consent. His coming to power absolutely represented a risk to their lives.

Mustafa’s death was Mahidevran’s fault

She did everything she could to protect him. Blaming the mother for the death of her son is highly unfair.

Hürrem’s sons’ deaths were her fault

She also did everything she could to protect them. Even in Cihangir’s case it’s an oversimplification to the point of unfair to blame her. Sending Mehmet to Manisa instead of Amasya made sense as that was a strategic advantage and his death made her decision re. Selim and Bayezid make a lot of sense. Besides she did almost everything someone conceivably could have done in her position to protect them from their own rivalry.

#magnificent century #el sultán #muhteşem yüzyıl

8 notes · View notes

petrovawitch · 8 months

Text

closed starter for @youngestgilbert

Viktoria wasn’t one to normally look at children, much less speak to one. She’d long sworn off the idea of having them herself, even before becoming the heretic she is today. However, while out in the town square she saw a little girl that couldn’t have been more than 10 years old and panic struck her. Was she losing her edge? Possibly. Being around so many relatives was surely bringing out her emotional side.

“Hey, kid, are you lost or something?” She eyed the girl wearily, unsure what to do. “Where’s your mother? It’s irresponsible to leave you alone.” She looked around for anyone frantic and found no one. Mystic Falls was not the quaint and happy town the humans loved to masquerade it as, and there were worse monsters than her about.

#youngestgilbert #interactions: maggie #verse: main #goddammit i didn’t even know vik had a maternal side wtf

2 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 2 years

Text

It is 3.30pm and Suna Hamanawa, 25, is doing what she and dozens of other Afghan mothers do most days: whiling her time away on a park bench in Viktoria Square, a scruffy plaza in central Athens, as her children play around her. Like almost every other asylum seeker, she is relieved to be in Greece.

“We’re better here, we’re safer here even though me and my husband and our first little one [initially] spent 10 months in Moria,” she says, screwing up her face at the memory of the notoriously overcrowded and fire-ravaged refugee camp on Lesbos.

“But every day, in its own way, is a fresh hell. The Greek government does nothing. It just keeps saying ‘wait, wait, wait’. And that’s what we do all day, every day. Wait for our papers, wait for our travel documents. Wait for freedom.”

A year after Afghanistan’s fall to the Taliban, Greece continues to be the first port of call for thousands of people fleeing the country’s worsening humanitarian crisis. After Ukrainians, Afghans account for the second-largest group of asylum applicants in the EU and by far the biggest in Greece, where more than 37,000 – more than a third of the total number registered nationwide – have filed asylum claims.

Hamanawa, who arrived in Lesbos with her husband, Mohammed, in a dinghy from Turkey in 2018, waited four years to become one of the estimated 28,500 Afghans to secure refugee status – a protracted period of legal limbo that is vastly at odds with other refugees, not least those from Ukraine.

In a recent report, the International Rescue Committee (IRC) chronicled Afghan refugees’ difficulties in Greece and the serious impact on their physical and mental health.

Of the 192 Afghans monitored by the organisation’s mental health teams between April 2021 and March 2022, about 97% had reported symptoms of depression, while 50% had considered suicide, the IRC report said.

“Many Afghans fleeing conflict and persecution in their own country think their troubles will be over once they reach Europe … This is simply not the case,” says Dimitra Kalogeropoulou, the IRC’s Greece director.

“Instead, people face the stark reality of violent pushbacks from Greek borders, months or years living in fear of being sent back to Turkey or Afghanistan, where they could face untold horrors, extended periods trapped in prison-like reception conditions, far from towns and cities and an alarming lack of support to begin rebuilding their lives,” she says.

For the estimated 70,000 Ukrainians who have sought refuge in Greece, it has been a different story. After Russia’s invasion on 24 February, the EU moved quickly to issue a temporary protection directive to safeguard the rights of people desperate to leave the war-torn country.

Although relatively few Ukrainians have headed to Greece, the reception they have received there has been unusually warm, with senior officials often referring to the newcomers as “real refugees”.

It was vital, said the IRC report, that Afghans were also guaranteed access to full and fair asylum procedures and given “dignified” support with accommodation and integration.

“While the Greek government has welcomed refugees from Ukraine, by efficiently registering them, issuing legal documents and allowing immediate access to employment, Afghans in Greece, alongside other asylum seekers and refugees, continue to be isolated from the Greek society in which they seek to rebuild their lives,” the report’s authors wrote. “Even after receiving status, refugees have limited integration support.”

The biggest barrier for Afghans claiming asylum is the Greek government’s controversial decision to label Turkey a “safe third country” for people not only from Afghanistan but also from Bangladesh, Pakistan, Somalia and Syria. The decision has prevented thousands of people from being able to explain why they need international protection.

“We’ve been here for four years,” says Khorshid Ahmadi, 26, as she plays with her children in Viktoria Square. “My family’s request for asylum has been rejected three times. They keep saying we should return to Turkey, even if Turkey doesn’t take anyone back from Greece.”

As a result, she says, neither she, her husband nor their five children have legal status or any right to housing or cash assistance.

Greece’s centre-right government insists it pursues a “tough but fair” migration and asylum policy. Accusations of pushbacks – despite overwhelming evidence – have been strongly denied. But keeping asylum seekers at bay remains a priority. In September, the migration minister, Notis Mitarachi, noted that the country had blocked about 50,000 migrants from entering Greece in August alone.

Amid renewed tensions with Turkey, the public order minister in Athens claimed last month that every night about 1,500 people gathered at the land border with Turkey were attempting to cross as a result of Ankara’s policy to “weaponise” migration and push asylum seekers into Greek territory.

As one of Europe’s most southerly states, Greece was the main entry point for more than 800,000 Syrians when the refugee crisis first engulfed the continent in 2015. After the adoption of a controversial pact aimed at stemming flows between the EU and Turkey in March 2016, the influx dropped steeply.

As patrols have been reinforced, with the help of the EU’s border agency Frontex, the number has fallen further in recent years, particularly arrivals on the north Aegean islands facing the Turkish coast, where most asylum seekers at the height of the crisis were located. The decline prompted the Greek prime minister, Kyriakos Mitsotakis, to boast last week that smuggling networks had been largely cracked.

International bodies have echoed the IRC in rebuking Athens for resorting to tactics of brute force to keep asylum seekers out.

Concluding a 10-day fact-finding tour of Greece in June, Mary Lawlor, the UN special rapporteur for human rights defenders, accused the Mitsotakis government of creating a “climate of fear”, not only for refugees and asylum seekers fleeing poverty and persecution but also for groups defending migrants’ rights on the ground. Illegal evictions of asylum seekers at land and sea borders had become a general policy in Greece, she said.

Last week, Mitarachi insisted the government would continue to replace open-air camps on frontline islands, such as Lesbos, with barbed-wire encircled “closed controlled” access centres, and would push ahead with plans to extend a border fence along the Evros land frontier with Turkey.

Mohamad Mirzay, Greece’s Afghan community spokesperson, who arrived in the country in 2006 at the age of 14, says: “Every day, we hear from families back home of Afghans being lost at the border.

“One of our biggest problems is that a lot of young Afghans whose asylum claims are rejected get into drugs, a problem we are now trying to address as a community. It’s all so very hard. Very few want to stay here, they don’t want to endanger their future. For sure, you could say, Ukrainians get very different treatment.”

Sofia Kouvelaki, who heads the Home project, an NGO that supports unaccompanied minors, said: “Ukrainian refugees have proved a point. In Greece, and in the EU, they have shown that if we want to integrate we can, and if we want to welcome people with a human face we can do that too.”

4 notes · View notes

amyonrails · 2 years

Text

The Berlin subway line U4... above!

A few months ago I shared the story of the tiny line U4 of the Berlin subway network and I thought I was done with this silly little thing. Until I realized, I could follow its course above ground to get a better understanding what places it actually goes to.

[the S- and U-Bahn stations Innsbrucker Platz as seen from the street; the station name is written three times in large letters]

I start at the station of Innsbrucker Platz again, which is mostly a quite noisy intersection but quickly make my way over to the Innsbrucker Straße under which the subway tunnels go northwards.

[a column with a fountain in front of a few, healthy green trees marks the beginning of the wide Innsbrucker Straße]

The street is technically very wide but most of it is taken up by strip of car parking along the center as well as trees and benches on most of the intersections. It was a nice and quite, casual walk through mostly residential buildings.

[one of said benches at an intersection; bollards protect this little island from the occasional car coming by]

A short few minutes walking through this residential area later I got to a park. The Volkspark Wilmersdorf is one of the numerous recreational parks built in the early 1900s when Berlin was booming and city planners realized that green spaces would be necessary to provide the city with fresh air and people with space to relax and do sport. The park was partially built in an artificial valley and when then U4 line was built, it was built straight through it.

[the Carl-Zuckmayer-Brücke going straight through the park as seen from one of the stairs leading from the bridge to one of the paths in the park]

The bridge is nowadays completely pedestrianized and as the U4 runs very shallow the trains run right beneath the upper deck. This is also where the station Rathaus Schöneberg is, which is still under some construction work to make it fully accessible. This quite unique situation makes it possible to sit in the park and look through glass windows into a subway station.

[looking through one of the windows in the station one can see an old an one new station sign as well as one of the benches on the platform]

And on the other hand you can stand on top of a bridge that is also a subway station and enjoy the view into a public park.

[view from the bridge over a small lake and some paths winding through the green grass and trees of the park; people are sitting on the grass or walking about in the distance]

I continued on my way through more residential area, which was mostly unremarkable. It was quiet and pleasant with more people just walking on foot than cars driving.

Then I reached the Bayerischer Platz, where the Innsbrucker Straße intersects the larger Grunewaldstraße. The station building for the subway is actually quite neat. It sits on an island and has a cafe overlooking the square on top.

[the modern station building for Bayerischer Platz; potted plants sit on the balcony of the cafe on the first floor]

The square is mostly taken up by a small park. I was not able to get a good picture of it as there was an unsightly construction site and quite a bunch of people around so I just continued on my way without disturbing people.

Unfortunately I messed up slightly and did not follow the bend of the U4 precisely so I only rejoined it at the next station of Viktoria-Luise-Platz. But the way mostly continued through more cozy neighborhoods.

I had taken nice pictures of this square before, but in early summer it is a lot nicer. They even have the fountain going now.

[the big water fountain in the center of Viktoria-Luise-Platz shoots water a few meters into the air; a few people walk and rest among the green grass in the background]

I did not realize it last time but several of the streets leading towards this square are blocked off with bollards, reducing through traffic considerably. I saw quite a lot of people riding bikes as the streets were in nice shape and very quiet. A few cafes were open and had seating on the walkway giving this whole space the low, comforting hum of people being around.

Now properly back on track I followed the line to its northern terminus by walking along Motzstraße. This is the beginning of Nollendorfkiez, which is known for being a center of queer life in the city. Since 1993 this is where during pride the Lesbisch-Schwules-Stadtfest (lesbian-gay city festival) takes place. Most of the time it is just a very cozy neighborhood though.

[a small shop on the ground floor of a residential building; several pride flags hang in the breeze]

The Motzstraße ends at Nollendorfplatz with its partially overground subway station where the U4 meets the lines U1, U2 and U3.

[a train of the U2 pulls into the overground platforms of the station Nollendorfplatz; one of the entrances is just below where the trains runs]

This marks the end of my trip along the U4. This was a lot of fun and a nice way of discovering parts of the city I have not been to before, so I am considering walking along the other eight lines as well. As those are a lot longer, I will have to see how I will manage that and will probably split these trips into multiple parts.

#subway #berlin #ubahn

4 notes · View notes

raducotarcea · 3 months

Link

0 notes

lkinews · 2 years

Text

What is the best way to see Bayern Munchen vs. Barcelona Live stream and TV channel, starting time for the game on Tuesday's Champions League

What is the best way to see Bayern Munchen vs. Barcelona Live stream and TV channel, starting time for the game on Tuesday’s Champions League

How do I go about watching Bayern Munchen vs. Barcelona What to Know Barcelona as well as Bayern Munchen will square off at 3 p.m. ET on Tuesday, September. 13 in the Allianz Arena as part of the ongoing Champions League group stage action. Barcelona beat the hosts 5-1 in Viktoria Plzen on Wednesday. In the same way, Bayern Munchen collected three points after a 2-0 win against Inter Milan in…

View On WordPress

0 notes

elladastinkardiamou · 4 years

Photo

Viktoria Square, Athens.

A small boy, carrying his sleeping mat and a football, being evicted.

Photo by Tatiana Bolari/eurokinissi

#Greece #Pictures #Athens #Refugees #Migrants #Boy #Children #Eviction #Viktoria Square

9 notes · View notes

gogmstuff · 2 years

Photo

Grand Duchess Viktoria Feodorovna Romanova of Russia by ? (location ?). From pinterest.com/pin/402087072990570570/ 562X1023 @72 156kj.

#Belle Époque Fashion #Grand Duchess Viktoria Feodorovna #Princess Victoria Melita #Ducky #wavy hair #tiara #pouter pigeon bodice #square neckline #necklace #waist band #close skirt

14 notes · View notes

guigz1-coldwar · 2 years

Text

"Old friends": Chapter 177 for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out!

Chapter Summary: Yirina, Park & Viktoria, thanks to Portnova, managed to find out about the mysterious transmission that was presumed to be Zasha...a good occasion to meet some...old friends...

To read it on AO3, click here!

Words: +3500

Taglist: @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart, @chrystallenex

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Zasha...hearing their name since they disappeared and from Portnova's mouth, as she was sounding sure of herself about that, it was like a surprise for me as for the others too. I don't know how Portnova managed to deduce it was them but that location on that map was saying it all...now I was remembering as I was seeing that map...that square located in the middle of a forest in the city's limits, far away from any combats...it was getting clear in my head...I remembered in a few seconds of that memory with Dedov, talking with him about Zasha & Portnova going to visit their old house...in Verdansk...that location was sure to be Zasha & Dedov's old place...all clear in my head now.

That's something that was a bit tricky to explain to Viktoria as she wasn't willing to risk it all for a transmission that could be a trap but we managed to convince her into checking up on that place to see if Zasha is there, taking that risk. She was finally resigning herself to give in and allow us to take our jeep and leave the place, going in with us towards the north of Verdansk, almost passing next to the base that was used by Stitch's forces even if Viktoria started to doubt about the veracity of that information from the CIA...it wasn't our priority here, just trying to avoid any contact with the enemy.

It was Portnova who was driving the jeep for us, knowing well where we needed to go and I was in the back with Viktoria, sitting in front of each other, and during a part of that drive, I was still having her story in my head, thinking I wasn't the only one at all to face the MK-Ultra program even if she didn't go under it completely, that's something that she would have liked to keep secret and because of my curiosity, I saw a new face in front of me...she was giving little grin but the only thing she wanted now was to get things done...we all do want that...

"We should be there in a minute or two," Portnova announced, her voice breaking me out of my thoughts as she was engaging the jeep inside a forest.

"Get your guns up, we don't know what can happen," Park suggested, sitting in the front passenger seat with her MP5 on her lap before taking it in her hands

"Okay," I said, properly moving my MP5 in my hands as I was holding it by the handguard with the stock on the ground, safety off in my hands and then, I saw Viktoria, getting her hands below her to reach a box. "What's that?" I demanded, unfamiliar with this box that I had never actually seen since.

"My gun," She replied, eyes focused on the box she was pulling out between her legs before opening it, revealing a gun that was a bit odd to be seen in that period.

"An MP-40," I murmured, recognizing the famous german gun from the second world war...Viktoria raised a little her left eyebrow at me.

"I know that's odd but I like it," She affirmed, her right hand inside the box as she was holding her MP-40 in her other hand, getting some mags from the box.

"I didn't say anything, the gun is nice to say," I expressed, having a liking of that gun in front of me as Viktoria was loading one of her mags into it, putting the others on a pouch at her belt. "How did you get it?" I asked before she stopped doing anything except looking at me with narrowed eyes...my curiosity again. "Sorry," I apologized.

"It's a long story," Viktoria then spoke up, resuming her moves by putting her MP-40 on her lap, giving some eyes on it...her voice was sounding a bit low and to me, that wasn't something to be too curious on.

"I'm sorry," I repeated with the same tone as before, trying to look away from her and mostly on the dirt path that Portnova was driving us on.

"It's okay, I understand your curiosity," Viktoria admitted with a tone that was mixed as if she wasn't going to say that. "But it's better that you keep your curiosity low for a while, you know that well," She advised, gesturing with her head towards me and after earlier, I was only able to understand her words here...I should stop being curious about her and keep in good mood with her.

"What are you talking about?" Park's voice went up as she was turning her head around to look at both of us.

"Something to keep us unstressed," Viktoria replied before I could do it, a grin on her face.

"What exactly?" Park demanded but then, her blue eyes drifted towards the MP-40 that Viktoria was having on her lap. Park's face was a bit surprised before she gave a nod, biting her lips at the same time. "Old-fashioned?" She presumed.

"I can say that," Viktoria slightly shrugged at Park who then turned her head around, having guessed that it wasn't the time to ask about each other's favorite guns.

"Portnova, get the jeep somewhere hidden," Park then ordered at Portnova, pointing away to the forest at the right.

"Why?" Portnova asked.

"We should do the rest by walk, we don't know if it's Zasha or a trap," Park suggested as from afar, I was able to see a little part of a house. "So, if we do that, we would be able to see if it's true or a bait to get us," She added, Portnova being a bit unsure of that as for her, Zasha could be in that house and it was meaning a lot but she resigned herself to comply and make a slow turn inside the right side of the forest, stopping the jeep in a hidden spot from the dirt path. "Okay, let's get off," Park said, jumping out of the jeep with her MP5 in hands, the three of us doing the same quickly.

"So, how do we proceed?" I questioned Park as she was the one making the suggestions.

"Well, we will walk to that house, keeping our guns up in all directions," She started, pointing away towards the house's direction with her free hand. "We stay together, no need to separate ourselves," We nodded at her. "We leave the car. If Zasha is here, one of us is going to get the jeep closer to the house in case we need to leave," She added before she turns around in the house's direction.

"I'll do it," Viktoria proposed herself to do that and Park gave a nod as she was looking away, causing Portnova to give Viktoria the jeep keys, "Thanks,"

"Okay," I breathed.

"No time to lose," Park completed me with another breath before she took the lead of our squad, starting to walk at a slow pace towards the house, soon followed by us.

I was staying behind her, all of us keeping a good & safe distance between us, aiming our guns in all directions as Park suggested. It was a bit scary to walk into that forest...we were troubled to know if that transmission was real and coming from Zasha or a trap organized by either Perseus or the KGB but it was not possible that the latter could do that...the risk that it was a trap was still on, however, we could be walking next to soldiers camouflaged under the fallen leaves of the trees and due to that risk, extreme vigilance was our priority here.

Hopefully, for us, nothing out of the extraordinary went to happen to us during our cautious walk toward the house, keeping a strong silence between us, no one speaking for the moment until we arrived in a small dirt yard on one of the house's sides, preferring to sneak our way in from another point than using the front door but as we got close to a door leading to the house, a light went up inside the house through a window...

"Someone's here," I said in a very low voice, everyone crouching down to avoid being at the window sight below it.

"It has to be Zasha," Portnova suggested, the closest of us to that specific door.

"Portnova, we need to watch out," Park told her, seeming to share a feeling that she could take a big risk and get our cover blown and worst, get killed if it's not Zasha inside.

"It has to be them, who would be here?" Portnova protested, suggesting about the house's state, looking abandoned from the outside but now seeming to no longer be that case. "Listen, we can go in there but keep our gun up in case," She proposed.

"Yes," I affirmed. "But I'm going first," I then said, preferring to take the risk of getting shot first and avoiding that risk for the other, slowly moving to get in front of Portnova's place.

"I'm staying outside near the door, I'll get to the jeep once it's cleared," Viktoria murmured, enough to be heard well by the three of us as she was behind me before I moved. *

"Okay...we're behind you, Yirina," Park affirmed as I was getting ready to go in front of the door, my MP5 in my right hand, the other moving to the door handle, trying to know if it was unlocked...doesn't seem to be, the part to lock the door wasn't in a good state.

"I'm going in," I breathed, gun aimed towards the door before I starts to open it slowly & silently, discovering a small hallway with not too much light around it, which was coming from a room on the side of it. "Damn it," I muttered, seeing from inside that place...the walls looking very old, the marks of framed pictures still visible on those walls...slowly walking on a floor that was sure to make a loud noise with a wrong step, causing me to keep a slow pace...the more I was getting inside that hallway...the more was the risk of getting surprised at any moments as I was walking towards that light...

"Hands up!" Suddenly, my fear got confirmed when I was arriving next to a room, starting to feel the cannon of a pistol on the right side of my head, causing me to slightly move my head a little to try to see the person pointing this gun at me...a familiar face...

"Sonya?" I guessed, recognizing the person even if it was a long time ago I talked to them...the same person...damn...

"Grigoriev?" They muttered while I was keeping my hands up along with my MP5 before I could see them moving up the hammer of their pistol and then, lowering the gun. "I thought you were dead,"

"I'm not," I told them, starting to lower my hands at the same time.

"Freya told me that you got killed in Teusfelberg," They declared, me shaking my head at this...Freya...why?

"We're not dead," I repeated before I could hear the footsteps behind me, seeing Portnova with her AK-47 aiming at me. "It's okay, it's an old friend," I reassured her as Sonya was still inside that room, not visible from the group behind me.

"How in the hell did you manage to get here?" Sonya asked me, curious to know how we find that place.

"We got a transmission...well, my friend Portnova caught a transmission and she got us here," I replied, gesturing with my thumb towards Portnova whose footsteps were getting closer to me.

"Damm... Zasha..." Sonya sighed.

"Sonya, where are you?" At this moment, my eyes went wide at hearing inside that house, that voice...the voice of my friend...Zasha Smirnov, sounding to be closer. "Sonya, where are..." I could hear that very closely before I turned my head around, seeing Zasha arriving in front of us... an eyepatch over their right eye..."Yirina...Yirina..."

"Zasha!" Portnova's voice went up behind me, sounding very emotional in it before I witnessed her passing through very fast, walking to Zasha. "Zasha!" She repeated loudly, almost in the urge to cry as her arms got wrapped around Zasha, me snorting sadly to see them back together...a pain that Portnova was holding finally going away.

"I'm sorry, Yiri...it's my fault," Zasha said while the two were hugging, hearing Park arriving behind me, along with Sonya to witness this.

"It's good to see them back," I murmured.

"Yeah...me too," Park affirmed at my left as Sonya, who was peaking their head from the room, decides to leave it.

"We should get to the living room for a better talk," They suggested, starting to walk towards Zasha & Portnova, giving a nod to the first as they were passing next to the two.

"Where's Viktoria?" I demanded at Park.

"She went to the jeep right after Portnova got inside," She explained to me, doing what was planned to be done before her eyes went back on the two away from us, looking moved. "We should go see them too," She advised.

"Yeah," I nodded, sure of seeing Zasha after all this before starting to move to them & Portnova who stopped hugging each other.

"Hey, Yirina...nice to see you," Zasha told me with a little grin on their face, trying to look down as if they wanted to hide their eyepatch off me but I didn't care attention as I went to get my arms around them.

"I missed you, Zed," I snorted during our hug, remembering our last call back in Algeria, one day before we left the country for Russia...too many weeks ago...the last time we talked to each other.

"I missed you too," They gasped before the two of us broke the hug, letting Park move to my spot to hug them in turn, the two exchanging a smile. "Park, thank you," They said while the two were moving away from each other.

"Thank you too, Zasha," Park thanked them too and...I understand that from her...I think that me, Zasha & Portnova showed that she's a good woman...the woman I love and that's why she said this...

"Sorry to interrupt your reunion but Uhm..." Sonya was coming from another room as we were just next to the supposed living room, still in the hallway. "I know that you got a lot to talk about and everything like that but, Zasha, did you send a transmission in the wild?" They asked them especially as we were getting inside the living room...it was looking finished but it wasn't very...perfect...

"Yes, Sonya, I did," Zasha went on, sounding as if it wasn't something to do...almost annoyed I can say. "I told you many times that I want to go home but you're keeping me here so yeah, I used your material while you were away," They exclaimed.

"You know well that..."

"What happened to their eye?" Portnova cut Sonya short in their words as it was something I was intrigued too at the moment I saw that eyepatch. "Was it you?"

"No!" Sonya shook their head. "I'm not crazy enough to do that, ask Stitch's new dog instead,"

"Who?" I narrowed my eyes, fearing the worst name that could come out here from Sonya.

"The guy named Lazar, they brainwashed him enough that even without their damn broadcast, the guy is still under their control," Sonya revealed, and...it came true...that fear, Stitch was...that man...he was making Lazar a toy for Perseus...fuck...

"You're serious?" Park gasped, believing that it was non-sense but the worst came from Zasha who confirmed those words.

"It's been a week now, they've been trying to do what they did to him on me but...Stitch changed his mind and abandoned me in a place to die alone," Zasha explained, slowly stepping away from Portnova to get sit on one of the three chairs in the middle of the room around a table. "Sonya came to save me...as I was going to die," They added, sitting down. "I tried to go home but it's too risky,"

"I'm trying to keep you safe, Zasha, it's not my fault that someone made Verdansk into a shithole," Sonya complained, moving to face Zasha and putting their hands on the empty chair in front of them. "I'm trying to find a way to get us safe until the situation is sorted, we still have Bellamy at our backs,"

"Bellamy...Bellamy Petrov?" I presumed.

"Yeah," Zasha murmured...a name that I didn't hear since...London...the man that got fun by fucking up my eye...if I got my hands on him...

"Even if that idiot still believes in Perseus' ideals, he's not happy about the situation," Sonya sighed before we starts to hear some footsteps coming from where Sonya came here a few moments ago.

"Talking behind my back, Sonya?" What I could hear...I thought that it was a dream...no, a nightmare but that was Bellamy Petrov himself arriving in that very room, dressed up casually..."Hey...got some company, I see," He scoffed before me & he exchanged a glare...me having a deadly one...

"You..." I chuckled, clenching my left fist, having my MP5 in my other hand.

"Hey, Grigoriev...nice eye," He snapped his fingers at me, trying to sound funny...

"You fuck," At this, I dropped my MP5 away on the floor, walking fastly at him before I could give him my right fist at his face, feeling this anger I've been keeping deep inside of me since that day in London...since that very day, I've been dreaming of beating the shit out of him.

"No, Yirina!" I heard Zasha's voice going higher as I was seeing Bellamy's hands moving up to his face at his nose and I was going to lean down and give him more deserved punches before I got to see Zasha's arm going in front of me. "Stop, he's with us!"

"Bullshit, you know what he did to me!" I exclaimed, shocked that Zasha wasn't allowing me to resume the beating Bellamy deserves.

"I know...but he's with us, he hates Stitch because he wants him dead...they got him stripped of his rights & heritage in the Perseus Collective," Zasha tries to explain as they were containing me with their arm. "I hate him too for what he did but...he proposed to help us in exchange of...leaving us alone in the future,"

"And you believe that man who tortured you back in London?" I asked them, looking at them.

"Aaahhh...believe me or not...but I'm the one that can help you bring Stitch down," Bellamy slowly started to get up again on his feet, keeping his left hand near his nose. "If you kill me, you bury the chance of knowing Stitch's hideout,"

"We know it's the military base," Park admitted, sounding close to me as she was arriving to calm down too, putting her left hand over my shoulder.

"Nah...it's a trap...no one except some guards are over there," Bellamy revealed, passing his hand below his nose where he could see blood on his hand. "Dammit, did she break my nose?" He demanded towards Sonya.

"Fuck off, Bellamy, I ain't your babysitter and seriously, your nose is bleeding, what do you think?" Their response was accompanied by their eyes rolling along with shaking her head at him, Zasha letting go of their arm, sure that I wasn't going to punch Bellamy again.

"Even...Sonya knows where Stitch is really," I suggested, knowing that Sonya is Stitch's sibling but I got surprised by their head-shaking at us.

"Nah, he changed his location once I left to help Zasha," They told us...confirming the fact that Bellamy is the one who can help us...I can't believe I'm thinking of that..."So, that's making him the person who knows the truth," They pointed out to Bellamy.

"Great," I sighed.

"It's that or nothing," Bellamy almost grinned, a bit of trouble due to the pain.

"I guess we don't have many choices," Park resigned herself along with me to agree on not hurting Bellamy. "Portnova?"

"If that man tries to lie to us, I'll kill him myself," She threatened, sounding very clear in her voice.

"Yeah, sure you do," Bellamy scoffed before he turns his head around, towards the room he came in as some lights went to pass by through the windows of that room, "Who's that?"

"That must be Viktoria," Park guessed before two honks went to be heard outside, confirming this. "Yes,"

"Who?" Sonya demanded, curious.

"A friend of ours, we told her to get our jeep ready to leave," I responded, sounding a bit proud of talking about Viktoria as a friend...not sure if she does share this with us but I do.

"Leaving? Where? Not with those fucking CIA guys?" Bellamy asked, sounding nervous.

"No, she has a special place where we're hiding in the city's limits," Park went to answer but I could do as Portnova was moving next to Zasha, wanting to keep company with them. "If you're coming with us, you'll be..better,"

"Yes...I want to leave this place, it's reminding me too much...even without the pictures," Zasha murmured in a low voice, looking around the place and Portnova nodded, surely aware that this house was bringing too much for them.

"Hmmm...we better not get fucked," Sonya meant, pointing their fingers at me & Park

"You won't," Park affirmed.

"Yeah, can we trust you?" Bellamy demanded, passing his hand the last time below his nose to clean it.

"Now, you will," Park replied to him in an assertive tone to make sure that he got us clear, giving us a nod.

"Okay, I'll start to get the essentials ready," Sonya sighed, starting to move from their spot in the room to leave and to prepare things as they suppose to.

"Bellamy," Park then called him out again, trying to leave away from us with Sonya, and thanks to Park, he stopped to look at her, having a serious & deadly glare that could kill a god here.

"You're coming with us...but if you try anything...I'll make a pleasure of making you suffer as you did to them,"

#call of duty cold war #black ops cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cold war #cod cw #cod bocw #call of duty #cod #fem!bell #helen park #yirina grigoriev #zasha smirnov #sonya kuzmin #bellamy petrov

2 notes · View notes

harpyloon · 3 years

Text

“how’d we get so deep from just talking about bubble tea?" / f.w

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!OC

Warnings: Angst, mentions of food... also fluffy and cute!

Summary: Fred Weasley and OC Female character fight about bubble tea and it gets kinda angsty but not too much

A/N: Was supposed to be a Fred x Reader thing but i'm not too confident with my 2nd person writing skills yet. Viktoria is my Fred Weasley simp friend 🤪 but she can also be you!

Also wanted to incorporate a bit of how Hermione mentioned the twins slightly affecting Ron's confidence in canon HP. Testing out the waters so let me know what you think! Hope there wasn't too much angst on here.

WC: 2.4k+

This is for you @weasleyclaw

Read on AO3

"What in Merlin's pants is this supposed to be?"

Viktoria giggled enthusiastically against a wide-rimmed straw stuck between her teeth, watching Fred Weasley's perplexed face as he struggled to ingest the contents in his mouth.

"Swallow," she commanded.

Fred quirked an eyebrow, pausing his chewing. "Well, that's what I sai—

He grunted as she took a swipe to his shin.

"Swallow," Viktoria said again, attempting a glare this time, but mirth was swimming around in her eyes.

Frowning and chewing with performative haste, Fred swallowed loudly and obediently (to Viktoria's delight) and stuck out his tongue like a good schoolboy, displaying an empty mouth.

She smiled cheekily, "Well? How is it?"

Instead of answering, Fred brought his wand out and pointed it to his tongue.

"Aguame—“

“NO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Viktoria snatched Fred’s wand immediately, sneaking frantic glances around and shoving it inside her coat.

“Are you mental?!” she whisper-yelled to her boyfriend who had a frown on his face.

“But I'm parched,” grumbled Fred as Viktoria pushed him towards a fairly deserted alley adjacent to the main street.

Covent Garden was bustling with Muggles. Seeing as Easter was fast approaching, boutiques were filled to the brim with shoppers queuing for last-minute holiday hauls, and everyone was out and about, basking in the spring breeze.

A good-looking pair of lovebirds sipping on matching bubble tea beverages, walking down James Street hand-in-hand was nothing close to unusual on a cheerful sunny day such as today. What would've been unusual was if one of the pair suddenly shot out cold, freshwater into his mouth from a wooden stick. That would've stirred some heads.

"You're parched?" Viktoria's eyes were wide and exasperated. "How many times do you have to pull something like that in the middle of a bloody Muggle street—"

"It was you who made me swallow it!" said Fred defensively.

She scoffed, "Oh please. You're being dramatic."

"Dramatic? These things taste like Dungbombs!" he waved his still-full cup of bubble tea, shoving it up his girlfriend's face as if it's committed some horrendous crime. Black little pearls were swimming around between Viktoria's eyes.

She shoves him off, offended.

"Excuse me? Dungbombs? Have you actually eaten Dungbombs?"

"Well, no, but these sure look like 'em."

Viktoria gasped.

"You did not," she glared threateningly at Fred.

"Also," his face frowned in disgust, "who—in their right mind—would put ice in tea? Barbaric is what this is!"

Viktoria's mood was getting fouler by the second. She had been excited. So incredibly excited to have Fred finally try one of her favorite drinks in the world. Her mother was a muggle, and her father a Curse Breaker—where the job came with travelling; when they had lived briefly in Thailand when she was thirteen, they couldn't get her to stop drinking bubble tea every single day.

"I can't believe you said that," she said.

"What? The truth?"

"The entire world doesn't drink tea the same way the British do, Fred!"

"Well too bad for them then! No one makes tea like Mum does."

"This is different. This is about trying something new!"

"Well, I don't want new!"

"UUUUUGRRRH."

With a loud groan, she snatched the cup being dangled in front of her face and stomped away angrily.

"HEY— Where are you going?" Fred called to her retreating back.

The good-looking pair of lovebirds were no longer a subject of longing stares as passersby dodged the now bitter-looking woman storming down the Muggle street, sipping from two cups of bubble tea simultaneously, her boyfriend running to keep up with her.

"Viktoria," Fred called out as reasonably projected as possible. They were making a scene and he knew it. He didn't mind the attention when he was being funny or when people stared at him and Viktoria hand-in-hand. He loved showing her off. Not like this though. Not when she was walking away from him.

"Viktoria," he was jogging next to her now, "slow down."

"Sod off and go drown in your Mum's tea, Fred Weasley," she growled without so much as a glance in his direction. "I hate you so much right now."

"Will you stop walking for one second?"

She brisked even faster.

"Okay, okay, I'm sor—," he dodged running into a stroller and an angry mother who chastised him. After apologizing profusely at the woman who was immediately charmed by the Weasley smile, he glanced up and saw that Viktoria was nowhere to be found.

"Shite."

Running down James Street, he paused through every alley, searching, passing by the boutiques they've previously visited earlier in the day. Skidding to a halt in front of the bubble tea shop, he entered and scanned the small space.

"Back for another already?"

The woman who had served them earlier was smiling at Fred behind the counter, "Original Bubble for your lady?"

"Uh," he was still panting, "er—no thank you, madame. I was wondering if—"

The woman laughed.

"Just one for her today then? That's a first. On her best days she can do three!" she seemed to laugh at a memory.

"Er—sorry?"

The woman shook her head in amusement, "Your little lady would swell her digestion herself if she could, only if it meant she could drink pints of these devils!" she gestured to the gallons of ready-made tea behind her. "It's a sight. She practically inhales it. I'm lactose-intolerant you see. Watching her, I live vicariously!"

The woman laughed again and pointed to a window in the corner of her shop, "Sits over on that cushion every Sunday when she's back from school."

Fred's breathing was calming down, but his heart was thumping faster.

"She nicked yours 'in't she?" she asked. "That why you're back for another?"

Eyes glued to the small corner booth by the window, Fred answered with a question, "She likes bubble tea then?"

"Likes?" the woman almost scoffed, "Darling, I could say she's a shop benefactor with the number of cuppas that girl downs! She told me once that our tea is the closest thing to those authentic ones you find in— where was that? Taiwan? Anyway—"

"Thailand," breathed Fred, and dread was closing in on him. Remorse slowly working its way to his erratic heart. "She—she lived there for a while. Told me all about the..."

The tea.

"I'll take you I swear," she told him as they walked up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, "it's almost as good as the ones in Bangkok. NOT AS AMAZING, but good enough!"

Viktoria had moved to Hogwarts when they were in their fifth year, straight from Thailand; carrying stories of her Curse Breaker father, speaking fluent Gobbledegook in Charms that made her a Flitwick favorite, and going on and on about how the school kitchens didn't have black squishy pearls swimming in cold tea...

Sighing, Fred turned to the woman who was still beaming at him.

"One Original Bubble please."

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Viktoria watched churchgoers walk past her from the bench where she sat near St. Paul's Chapel, nibbling on her straw mindlessly.

The two cups of bubble tea were long empty. Her stomach was rumbling quietly from the aggressive intake of lactose, and her foul mood dulled into a solemn ache.

She remembered when she was still back in Hogwarts a few days ago, packing for the Easter holidays. Recalling her long list of "must-dos" with Fred that she had planned out. This was their second holiday as a couple, after getting together right before Fred and George decided to drop out mid-year of their sixth. They wrote together all summer long, and she had spent the following Christmas at the Burrow.

With You-Know-Who back in the picture, nowhere was safe to spend anything these days. But a Muggle area gave a supposedly wider berth from danger. This was why the two had planned to meet her family this time, introduce Fred to her mum and dad, and bring him around Muggle London.

"She's lovely," he whispered in her ear as her mother stood up to refill all their bowls with her homemade Sheperd's Pie.

Viktoria smiled, "She is when she's full."

"Just like you then," said Fred with a smirk.

Her foot met his toe and he coughed out a sharp grunt.

"Say that again?"

"You are as lovely as your mother, my sweet," he mumbled back and gave a strained smile to her Curse Breaker father when he peered at them curiously.

"Lovely my big fat foot," Viktoria grumbled under her breath, poking the bottom of her empty cup with the straw aggressively. "Stupid, insensitive, red-headed git. Can't even pretend. Can't even try to pretend to like it. I'm supportive, aren't I? I even offer to be a guinea pig for the Wheezes. Remember when I grew a stubble because of that potion?" she was talking to her cup now, remembering being the human experiment for Magical Moustache Miracle Stubble Grow.

"AND (poke) TO THINK (poke) I WAS SO (even more aggressive poke) EXCITED!"

A straw-shaped hole peered up at her from the bottom of the cup.

"UGH, I don't even know why I'm mad!"

Someone cleared their throat gently behind her.

Huffing haughtily and knowing exactly who it was, Viktoria ignored the sound and continued to glare at the throng of Muggles walking past. She would not give in. She won't.

A long shadow loomed over her and sat on the bench, giving them a respectable amount of space in between.

The small square they were in was rumbling with activity. But there was nothing but silence in their own little bubble.

Sluuuurp.

She won't look. No. Spiting her, he is. Making fun. Always making fun—

SLUUUUUUUUUURP.

Chancing upon him at the corner of her eye, Viktoria saw Fred sipping on a cup of Original Bubble, frowning as he maneuvered his straw to catch the pearls that were swimming away.

"You don't have to do that."

Fred looked up, straw in mouth, "Well, how am I supposed to catch them then? Sneaky little gorgons—"

"No," sighed Viktoria, "I mean you don't have to drink that. I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to."

"You're not forcing me at a—"

"Cut it out, Fred."

Silence.

Children were running around nearby, feeding Pigeons with small pieces of bread from their lunch helpings. A little girl slipped. There were no tears though. She continued to roll around the pavement, shrieking with delight, to her mother's chagrin.

She heard him sigh beside her.

"I'm a git."

Silence.

"You kept going on about this all year last. Never stopped. It—it slipped my mind."

Silence.

"I'm a git and I deserve to be trolled."

Silence.

"I'm a filthy pile of dung and I subject myself to eating toadstools for the rest of my life."

"You are not eating toadstool," Viktoria glared at Fred who held his breath as she finally spoke. "I will not snog a toadstool eating wizard."

Fred's eyes turned misty, "You still wanna snog me?"

"When you're not being an absolute arse, I do."

Closing the gap between them the tiniest bit, Fred said, "I'm sorry, Viktoria."

It took a few breaths before she gave a defeated sigh, "This is stupid," she muttered. "This is stupid, I don't even know why I'm mad—"

"I do," interrupted Fred. "I know and I deserve it. I was a git. I wasn't paying attention and I was completely insensitive. You always," he was struggling, "you always feel things around you, even people. You read rooms clearly, you keep me in check. My mouth— I— I can't control it sometimes I— I say hurtful things to people I love without meaning them."

Viktoria was looking at him now, observing Fred's shameful downcasted eyes.

He blinked a couple of times before continuing, "Hermione confronted me once about it, about how the small things I say affected Ron loads. And I— I didn't want to believe her at first. Shrugged her off-quite rudely to be honest. But when I saw him play for Keeper I..."

There was a snitch-sized lump down Viktoria's throat and it was preventing any form of speech. She knew this. They had both sat down and talked about each other's flaws and hubris awhile back, after getting into a massive fight before Christmas at the Burrow. She was familiar with Fred's difficulty with words, his teasing getting too far at times. But he was good. She knew this as well. His affection coursed differently. And this was precisely why she loved him.

Words failing her, she grabbed his bubble teacup and took a long sip. His eyes held hers and she took his hand.

"Go on," she encouraged.

He took a deep breath, "Well, you know what happened. He was all over the place, Ron. Couldn't save a single Quaffle, quite unlike our matches in our backyard. George and I knew he was good. Merlin, even Ginny knew. But he wavered on the pitch. He didn't have the guts. And I had a lot to do with that."

Fred brought Viktoria's hand to his lips, "I'm doing better. You said so yourself," she gave him a teary smile, "but I— I slip and I'm sorry. I'll have more tact. I know it's the little words I overlook, and I'll work on that now. I swear I'll be more careful and— I just don't want to drive you away. You most of all."

Silently and without preamble, Viktoria stood. Fred blinked up at her, and from where she gazed, she saw the mist and remorse swimming all over his enchanting brown eyes.

"Oh, Fred Weasley," she smiled shyly down at him, brushing strands of red away from his forehead. "How'd we get so deep from just fighting about bubble tea?"

He gave a hearty guffaw, the signature Fred laughter that made her heart leap. "Because I'm a drama queen is why."

Pulling her to his lap, she settled on his chest, her head propped against his cheek.

"You're a good man, my Freddie," said Viktoria. His arms tighten around her. "You're the sweetest, most handsome, and you snog me so well."

Fred's laugh was contagious, his chest vibrating against her back. She grinned.

"And you were right. You are doing so well. I forgive you. And I'm sorry too."

She turned her head and rested it below his chin, her nose propped against his jaw, inhaling while her eyes fluttered shut. The sweet, gun-powdered scent of Fred Weasley. All bruised and perfect for her and her only.

"You know," started Fred, breaking their small silence as he stole a sip from the cup, "these aren't half bad."

Viktoria rolled her eyes, "Oh stop."

"I'm serious! I should've given them more teeth. I reckon it's all in the chew."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm. We could make something out of this for Wheezes."

"No."

"Edible Dungbombs?"

Viktoria groaned.

Unbelievable.

#by gabi #fred weasley #fred weasley x oc #harry potter fic #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fic #byGabi

49 notes · View notes

aefward · 3 years

Text

Koujayn Nyajuok wears The Sheriff Belted Wool Blazer, Flare Hoops, Ball Chain, Square Fuse Chain & Hyde Wool Pant by Viktoria & Woods.

#Photography By Daniel Goode #June 2021 #Indoors #Viktoria & Woods #Koujayn Nyajuok #earrings #necklaces

5 notes · View notes

theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, SAY! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF RYUK.

Admin Jen: Say, I wish there were words to describe my joy over your application. Not only because you’re bringing us my beloved Pale Rider, but because of the beautiful way with which you captured them. There was so much to love about your app, but I have to admit that it was the para sample which stole my heart. Ryuk’s voice, his image of the other Horsemen and the way it bled into his dialogue throughout, the nuance in his perspective and the small tics in his mannerisms. It was all so vivid, so visceral, and so mesmerizing to take in. Although I absolutely cannot deny the impact of all the other sections in the app, which only served to amplify the portrayal and bring it to life in a way that left me so thrilled to leave Ryuk in your hands. I trust you with him completely, and I pray for the New World to bear their arrival. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER.

ALIAS | Say.

AGE | 25.

PERSONAL PRONOUNS | She/Her/Hers.

ACTIVITY LEVEL | Hopefully around 6/10! I check the dash basically every day for replies, but whether I get to them or not is a completely different story 🥴 Also, given that this is a highly literate roleplay, it may take me a tad longer to craft replies and post them, but I’m confident I can meet the 8 post/month minimum that you outline in your guidelines.

TIMEZONE | EST / UTC-5.

TRIGGERS | REMOVED.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE GROUP? | A mutual of mine reblogged some of the first promo posts onto my dash. From then I’ve been following the group, and I finally got a chance to read through all of the lore / word-building you guys have done and I am super impressed.

CURRENT / PAST RP ACCOUNTS |

IN CHARACTER.

CHARACTER

Ryuk.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

I will admit that when I was first browsing, I had the worst choice paralysis because all of the biographies were compelling in their own way. The Angels and their pretentious morality, the Demons with their freewheeling madness, the Gifted toeing the line between mortal and divine, desperate to survive in a world with their powers… That being said, I kept on going back to Horsemen because of their remarkable existence across Caelum, Sanctus Terra, and Infernum. Not quite Angels or Demons, and far from mortal, I interpreted them to be the closest beings to God the world has, given that they were torn from the flesh of God Himself.

This steadfast solidarity between Viktoria, Ryuk, Nerissa, and Dmitri really hit me square in the chest. Four distinctive beasts, hungry for bloodshed, are dropped into a world already ravaged by devastation at the hands of God’s own creations — so they take solace in each other, even broken from their original purpose. And yet, even amongst these four outliers, Ryuk stood out to me even more, because of their innate understanding of the ravaged world before him. While Nerissa raged for their stolen war, while Viktoria mourned their own creation in Purgatory, while Dmitri adjusted their child-like senses to their surroundings so starkly different whence they came, Ryuk intrinsically knew of their role on this plane of existence.

I recognized the subtle intricacies woven into Ryuk’s biography, and wanted to challenge myself by writing a character whose desires, motives, and perception of the world is markedly unique from how I interpret my world. What sort of purpose could a Horseman have when stripped of their divine right and design? What do the immortals fear when they are bound with eternal life? What could Death himself fear, when they know the unknowable, and have the power to exact their purpose?

All beings, regardless of their time on earth, fear death in some way. For divine beings, it is the possibility of their destruction through their infinite life, and for mortals, it is the inevitability of it that induces fear. But what about Death himself? Is it possible that they could be terrified of it as well?

PLOTS.

DISCLAIMER: I illustrated a few points that rely on the development of other characters, most specifically the Horsemen, but it will all obviously rely on me working out the details with other players.

I. A HUNGER FOR DEATH PROMISES A STARVATION OF LIFE — a division amongst a former whole.

We begin the story with the Horsemen being a single unit, working alongside each other in relative harmony, existing as mercenaries for the highest bidder. In a world teetering on the fragile truce between the Angels, Demons, and Mortals, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse walk alone, united in their understanding that they are unlike anything else walking the holy grounds. Without each other, they have nothing — so they remain close together out of deficit rather than benefit. However, in each of the Horsemen’s biographies, you’ve outlined a faint, yet irrefutable line dividing the four. As it stands, the division relies on recognition; Ryuk has always understood Nerissa and her cause more than he sympathizes with Nerissa or Dmitri. So what if that line became a crack?

I’ve interpreted the current division to lie within the fundamental conflict of bloodlust vs. power, with Ryuk and Nerissa lying firmly in the former camp, though this would all be hammered out with the appropriate muns. But the interest lies within the Horsemen, and what would happen if their loyalties suffered an upset — who would they pledge their allegiance to?

II. MONSTERS, WE ARE NOT SO UNALIKE, YOU AND I — an unlikely understanding.

This brings me into the next plot point, which involves Ryuk’s connections to the other factions.

Within my app, I sought to base much of Ryuk on what he is not — and their antithetical existence to Cade is something I played with deeply in this application. As hungry as they are for blood, there is a distinct lack of intention behind their killing, as if they inflict death because they are a Horseman. It is why the division is so crucial for Ryuk to begin to align themselves to a cause. A trap I don’t want to fall into while writing them is not giving them a fear to hold onto. I think the fascinating part about Ryuk is that they were birthed out of God’s terror of His unknown — and that is precisely what they fear the most. They feel safe and powerful when aligned with his fellow Horsemen, but without them, what do they know?

The details of what would sweeten their attraction to any cause is something I want to keep open, rather than delineate extensively here, but the core of it is the same: to lower them down so that they may see the light in another’s faith.

III. IN MY END IS MY BEGINNING — a touch of Death.

And here, we end with a renewal of their perspective. Some sort of mortal injury happens that gives Ryuk a taste of their own medicine, perhaps in saving something they have truly learned to care about, as much as their dark heart will allow.

Given that they fear losing their power and dominion over mortals, throwing them into a situation where they are possibly injured by one is a surefire way of allowing Ryuk to face what truly lies dormant underneath: what is their purpose? And why are they here and living, despite having their purpose erased so long ago with the death of their Creator?

Perhaps this will finally give them a hunger for something more than just taking souls and money for it.

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WITH KILLING OFF THIS CHARACTER?

As long as it serves a specific purpose for the long-term prospects of the group’s plot, 100% yes.

IN DEPTH.

DRIVING CHARACTER MOTIVATION

I admit that this is the one of the parts of the application I struggled with, because for all intents and purposes, Death’s purpose has been ripped away from them. They, along with the other three Horsemen, were created for Earth’s apocalypse — but now that they’ve been thrown into the world without it, in some ways they are lost beyond comparison.

Even so, Ryuk was still built to thirst for mortal blood at their hand, and as of now, that base instinct is what they actively rely on to move through the world. They are desperate and hungry for the souls they’ve been promised by God, and nothing more.

And yet, I think they are also terrified of what it means to be stripped of their purpose. There’s this tentative resentment they hold for the world that no longer needs the Horsemen to wreak havoc, and yet, a terror that overtakes them when they think of fully relinquishing what they’ve been handed down from God. A fear of incompetence, the unknown, and the uselessness they feel is what drives Ryuk to continue to do what they’ve always known. After all, it’s easier to believe in a belief they’ve held close to their chest for so long.

CHARACTER TRAITS

( + ) RESOLUTE | Permanence: it is the one thing Ryuk knows to be true. Mortal blood expires, and nobody knows it better than the harbinger of Death himself. It is what makes them loyal, unwavering in their beliefs in their tar-black soul once he has made up their mind. ( + ) ASTUTE | It is impossible to be foolish when he has the ghosts of the past right at his fingertips; a history, laid before them like an open book. And what are first impressions, when they have the still-lingering souls to guide him along? Not much escapes their eyes or ears, and they use their gift well, for himself first, and for the Horsemen second. ( + ) VIGILANT | All that knowledge, always within reach — it would be a shame if they did not apply it well. Though he can be quick to react, it is rarely out of ineptitude or undisciplined impulse; it is precisely the wealth of information he gleans that makes them all the more wary to enter into a situation without identifying the risks first. They are adamant on victory, not by anyone else’s terms but their own. ( – ) DUPLICITOUS | He has no qualms about trickery, or resorting to underhanded means to get their way. After all, what is integrity to a being that values Death above everything else? What is honor to a Horsemen without a future, when Death is the period, the endmark to every creature with a beating, bloody heart? ( – ) RUTHLESS | When Ryuk first learns of the word mercy from the spirits’ whispers, they can barely fathom the concept. Sparing another out of the benevolence of one’s heart? It’s practically laughable, given their own penchant for cruelty when faced with their victims. He is ( – ) PASSIONLESS | And one wonders: what could make such a merciless killer unflinching in the face of their purpose? Yes, they relish in every single kill, just as much as his compatriots, but in the end, he does it because it is all he knows. One cannot mistake the devotion they show for passion, the very fire that ignites the circle of life. No, Death will not and cannot be acquainted with life, no matter how many live souls they take for themselves.

PARA SAMPLE

“But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.” — Matthew 24:36

From the beginning, at the very break of their conception at the hands of God, Ryuk is told they are the antithesis of emotion. It is an age-old story of the hero, their origin a simple blip in the vaporous, golden-god kingdom from which he is torn, cast into darkness until their path is clear — but Ryuk is not a hero. No, they are told that some day, they shall wreak havoc across the mortal realm that He has forged to collect their birthright of the damned souls roaming the earth. When? It’s insolence, a rare bit tumbling out for his Creator, He who has torn a part to make their whole.

You will know, and it is thunderous, the cadence of his voice, that even Death quivers, when the gates to the mortal realm opens. And then, they are thrown into their realm, devoid of anything but dust and half-formed souls. They know this, because the moment they’d slipped into the aphotic depths of His plan is the exact moment they hear their wails, deafening, ululating, even for their immortal senses.

And oh, did they wail. Told stories of dominions and dirt, of princes and peasants, a swarm of the dead desperate for the ear of a God — or however close they could get to such a being. Time and time again, Ryuk would swat the cloud away, gaze always focused in the distance, where the dark smoke broke into a line of halcyon shimmer, and they’d ask Him ( pray, a soul whispers ) for their birthright, their infernal kingdom of souls.

Ages pass. They hear nothing. They see nothing. The gilded line shrinks. But what is time for an immortal? Still, they hunger for the permanence of their existence; here, in this inchoate cavity of God’s creation, they are useless. The void is a steadiness of not quite death, but the absence of life — a temporary, an unhappy medium that they cannot satiate themselves on no matter how hard they strived. When? They think again, but He is long gone, in His heavens with His angels and His mortals He’d bore out of Love.

In the ages to come, they will begin to understand this. Tales brushed in human concepts, of Love and Fear and Ecstasy and Hope, of those dominions and dirt, the princes and peasants. In the ages to come, they will see that the mortals flourish, souls rising to Heaven and Hell without their touch. They will see the expanse of God’s love for His children, in fractured pieces of the half-gone souls’ shrieks, wondrous at how He could destroy something He’d built from the sands of the lands. They will ask why did the mother forbid her to marry her lover? and the souls will answer, because she loved her daughter, a babe she’d birthed for nothing in return.

“For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places.” — Matthew 24:7

And what they mean to say is — no, they do not understand. How could God, in all his love for his mortal creations, bring their deliverance, Famine and War and Conquest and Death, upon the moral planes? What is their purpose aside to destroy what He has created? To understand the world is to hold it in one’s hands and inflict upon it an inconceivable love, of which they had none in their ichor-stricken heart.

They resent God for this. They resent their purpose, and yet, they walk the earthly plains alongside their comrades, knowing that even God has succumbed — and so they hold their faith, deal their foreordained havoc in spades.

“For they are demonic spirits, performing signs, who go abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them for battle on the great day of God the Almighty.” — Revelation 16:14

“You must have mistaken me for a being of mercy, of which I am not.” Viktoria’s nostrils flare. Ryuk’s voice is low enough that the others do not catch the impertinent remark, the subtlest of digs on what she prized most. Within visible distance, Dmitri fiddles with a mortal contraption, one of the many gifts from his beautiful admirers, and far off, in the other direction, Nerissa sharpens her blade on a slick slab of quartz, eyeing her two comrades with a watchful eye.

Among them all, fallows, burnt yellow and unseemly, spread out across either side, an end distant and impossible. In this part of land, there is nothing but rainfall and smog, untraversed by even the most seasoned of travelers, which, of course, had made it ideal for the likes of the Horsemen. Nothing but tar black clouds roamed the sky, save for the sliver of white in the horizon, a marker of Caelum to the North. The line glows, and Ryuk is briefly struck by the likeness of their environment to the emptiness from which they came. If they listen diligently enough, the winds almost mimic the agonized shrieks of undamned souls, and it completes the resemblance, far too uncanny for their liking. He shifts on his feet, left and right, and tugs on his ear. A cue, he’d learned, then committed to muscle memory, to ward away the spirits when they were not needed.

“And as always, you have failed to listen. And they say you can hear the spirits with those ears?”

It is Ryuk, this time, that prickles under the weight of the insult. Viktoria, as always, has fashioned herself as the brains of their expeditions, always pointing out their next destination. He cannot blame her; of the quad, they all know she is the weakest, but her passion for their good fate flares stronger than his own. Viktoria, always the one hungering for something more. A desire for a bite of the heavens whence they came.

To each their own, they suppose.

“I have provided all of us with good information, have I not? Saved our good health, if I remember correctly, more times than I desire to count.” Their sharp glare meets the other’s steel-bit fire, and she huffs.

“And what are your qualms of this plan? Do you plan to serve this diseased Tridium for our eternity?”

Besides him, the souls begin to howl. Cry out, they will hunt and kill you, they have weaponry, blessed by the something dark and holy, and yet, another faction beckons, they are no match for the Apocalypse, they are not as strong as you believe —

“What is it?”

They snap out of their trance. In the centuries they have known each other, they have all learned each other’s behaviors like their own kin. Like the flicker in Nerissa’s jaw when she lusts for blood, the fondness glimmering in Dmitri’s eye when he spies a mortal he desires. They’ve all seen the half-slack stupor Ryuk undergoes when he channels the voices of the dead, most of all Viktoria, but he brushes her away, throat cleared with a rumble.

“Nothing. They caution us against it.”

“And?”

The sinew in their neck tenses. “And there is nothing else. We all know that some mortals are still gifted. They hold the power to our demise as much as we for theirs.”

Viktoria scoffs. It is clear, in her stance, from her gaze, that she does not believe he is giving her the entire truth. “We will need more than that if we are to carry through with it; perhaps, they can tell us the size of their armory, or perhaps how it could be of use to us...“ Eyes averted, she begins to pace a small distance. They can already see the cogs turn in their brain, assembling their scheme for an upset of power across the lands.

“And who has agreed to carry through with this design? Dmitri?”

They look up. Viktoria, who’d been addressed; Dmitri, who’d believed they'd been summoned; Nerissa, who’d smelled the whiff of conflict. The lines, there are always the lines. Viktoria with Dmitri, himself with Nerissa. Left unsaid, but voice did not negate the fact that the line is a truth, hanging amongst them like an errant thread, impossible to sever even with the sharpest of blades. “You don’t believe we can do it?”

They stare, unflinching against her black gaze, because for all that they lack with their deadened atrophy and rot, they fill themselves with the faith that there will always be more souls to take. They do not prescribe themselves to a greater fate other than the one that has been given to them, from God, their Creator. What use do they have of power, when they had all that they required in the present?

“If we take this job, do this favor for this mortal, we will secure an ear in the ranks — a cousin of a member of the Round Table, and we can use leverage, to raise our status, to find these heavenly instruments to mine for crystallis —”

“Of which he has none, Viktoria, in case you have forgotten!”

From the corner of their eye, they see Dmitri flinch, Nerissa cease her movements to sharpen her blade. They are always like this, vying for a position that neither of them particularly desire, but ages have passed since they’ve come to terms with their uncertain fate. They’d been dropped amongst mortals and divinity alike, across barren lands and built cities, alone in their status as creatures of God, literal in every sense of the word. He had torn them, the four of them, from His own celestial body, had He not?

They are quiet again.

Mere mortals would have raged, now Ryuk knows this. It is the security of more that protects (or rather, exposes) the others to wars, seething with blood and blades, to the black certainty of hatred that infected the strength of their ranks, susceptible and raw. Their net, of course, had perished along with the annihilated remains of God’s and Lucifer’s immortal bodies. They had nobody, and would have nobody else, until the end of time.

Perhaps they all realize this, sheepish expressions flitting across their eyes, the sunken hollows of their cheeks. Jagged as they are in countenance and disposition, Ryuk has realized they have gone too far in their words. His head hangs an inch lower, shoulders hunched in sour defeat. It is all that they need for the mood to lift. Viktoria nods, and they mount their horses, in implicit agreement that they would defer the conversation for another time.

They scan the fields. It is still sunken, stinking of something burnt yet still living, sodden with the foul scent of mortal dirt. The gales have only reinforced their vigor, screeching through the vast space, washing away their bitter anguish — but the winds are just that, the earlier parallel lost, if only because they had three others by their side. They have survived the fire, and they will survive, untouched, riding their noble steeds into the winds, not separate, but as one.

#accepted #accepted: ryuk

10 notes · View notes

aria-writes · 4 years

Text

Viktoria frowned and crossed her arms in front of herself. “Tyler, leave the seagulls alone.”

Tyler grinned cheekily as he tried in vain to wave her off. “Mr. Boss said to bring something back from the beach for him!” Viktoria shifted her weight and glanced over her shoulder in Tegan’s general direction, but it was immediately clear to her that he wasn’t going to be any help whatsoever in this sort of situation.

“You and I both darn well know that he didn’t mean the wildlife!”

Tyler pointed at her. “He didn’t specify. So, there is still a very slim but entirely probable–”

Viktoria threw her arms up in the air. “Dude.” “Do it for the meme,” Tegan called from under his frowny-face umbrella.

Victoria turned and looked straight at him for the first time that day, hands resting on her hips. “Where did you even find that thing?” Tegan shrugged nonchalantly. Well, as nonchalant as one can be while sweating to death, at least. “The internet.”

Viktoria sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, then directed her attention towards the mock volleyball court that Raquel, Alistair, and Axel had set up. Axel and Ellie were up against Raquel and Alistair, and it was not going very well for the former team.

On Viktoria’s opposite side, Tadashi seemed lost inside his own little world as he drew a large square in the sand with a big stick, then started writing in large block letters underneath it. “D...E...T…”

That was clearly going to take him a while, and she was already bored watching.

Tegan shot Tyler a look that Viktoria couldn’t even begin to decipher, but she could tell it meant something meaningful.

Tyler began loudly heckling Axel, mocking his (admittedly lackluster) volleyball playing style from what he probably assumed was a safe distance away.

“I hope your vocal warmups aren’t as weak as your physical warmups are, AHAHAHA– OW!” Tyler was cut off abruptly via an inflatable beach ball to the face, courtesy of a smirking Axel.

Tyler snatched it out of the air with his hands before it had a chance to fall and raised it above his head, then ran straight towards him with a battle yell.

The smirk quickly disappeared off of Axel’s face, replaced by a scream of “SHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII–” that completely drowned out Tyler’s voice as he started running down the beach, both of them being deliberate in their avoidance of Claire’s very elaborate sandcastle, of course.

Viktoria raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very impressive lung capacity right there. And here I thought ‘singing on a treadmill’ was just an exaggeration.”

Tegan ran a hand through his hair and muttered something under his breath that Viktoria couldn’t quite catch. Something about someone owing someone, perhaps? Viktoria grinned to herself at the mental image of Tegan as a mob boss.

Karolina and Neha relaxed on lounge chairs a good few yards away and pretended not to know any of them. Neha took a long sip of her iced lemonade as she sketched out ideas for a swimwear line while Karolina thumbed through a magazine, protected from the sun’s harsh rays under an umbrella, a very fashionable floppy hat, Guccy sunglasses, and three layers of 100 SPF sunscreen.

Speaking of which… “Did you at least put some sunscreen on?” Viktoria turned and asked Tegan suddenly. He fell silent, then gave her a guilty smile. “That would be a no.” Viktoria sat down beside him and pulled a brightly colored tube out of her tote bag despite Tegan’s protesting.

Axel and Tyler ran by, still screaming at the top of both their lungs as they went right on past Tadashi’s…

“DETENTION DUNGEON,” Viktoria read aloud.

The beach ball must have gotten lost somewhere along the way, as Tyler was now just flailing his arms around above his head as he chased Axel.

Viktoria blinked dumbly. “Huh. Interesting. I guess old habits die hard.” She shook her head and squeezed a generous amount of sunscreen into her palm, then moved to apply it to Tegan’s arm.

Tegan gasped as the cold cream made contact with his uncomfortably warm skin. “You uh, you really don’t have to fuss over me like this...” Viktoria grinned as she slathered it up and down the length of his arm. “Awwh, but I want to, though.” She set to work, watching Tadashi out of the corner of her eye.

Tadashi scooted over to the ‘entrance’ of his detention dungeon, then started drawing what seemed to be some very elaborate puzzles and traps.

Viktoria paused and sat back on her heels, squinting. It was difficult to tell where exactly the sunscreen ended and Tegan’s pale skin began.

“What exactly is Tyler going to do if he catches Axel, anyway?”

Tegan rolled his eyes as the corners of his mouth turned upwards. “Well, you know the four F’s? Axel’s doing one of them right now, and then two out of the three remaining ones are… take your pick.”

Viktoria groaned and smacked her forehead against the armrest of Tegan’s chair. “Tegaaan!” “Viktoriaaaa!” Tegan whined back, matching her tone.

Viktoria raised her head and grinned suddenly as a thought struck her. “Hey, do you think Tadashi would throw people in his detention dungeon for PDA?” Tegan nearly fell out of his chair as he sputtered, barely coherent. “I– What– are you– I mean, he– you mean like–” “Because Ellie and Alistair have been making googly eyes at each other all day,” she continued, seemingly oblivious.

Was that a hint of a genuinely relaxed smile on his face as Tadashi added an extra leg to his manticore? Maybe it was a trick of the light.

Tegan took a deep breath to steady himself and sank further into his seat. “You are going to be the death of me, Viktoria.” He pulled his hood up over his head and covered his face with it, the corner of his glasses getting hooked on the fabric in the process.

“You… have a T-shirt... with a hood attached to it?” Viktoria asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.

Tegan stuck his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout and crossed his arms, the effect only enhanced by his askew glasses. “Don’t judge me.”

Viktoria smiled as she moved from his left side to his right. “Well, at least it’s on-brand.”

Tegan lifted his hood to pull it back just enough to uncover his eyes and fixed his glasses. “So, what, I’m predictable now? I gotta change things up a bit.”

Viktoria motioned towards Tyler and Axel. “You could go join them, nobody would expect that.” She involuntarily cringed as Axel’s scream went shrill and went just sharp of the high C.

“Ugh, exercise. Never mind, I’ll stick with predictable.”

Tegan rolled his eyes again and wiped the palms of his hands on his shorts. “Lovely weather we’re having,” he said sarcastically.

Viktoria slowly inclined her head. “I don’t want to pry or come across as rude, but…” She trailed off, electing to stare at the crook of his elbow instead of his face. “Why are you out here instead of inside with the sweet, blessed air conditioning if you hate it so much?” She glanced up to gauge his reaction.

Tegan’s mouth twisted to the side as he avoided looking straight at her.

“...An hour of pure torment is paradise if I’m spending it with you.”

Viktoria inhaled sharply. “Tegan, I…”

Oh no, She thought to herself, not emotions and feelings! Not here! Not now!

She racked her brain for a fast and simple way to deflect. “If Axel ever decides to rebrand as darker and edgier, you could totally be his songwriter.”

“Like, what,” Tegan gestured grandly into the air with his arm, “The night sky is dark/just like my soul/and like the full moon/it swallows me whole?” Viktoria squeezed Tegan’s shoulder. “Pure poetry.” Tegan ran a hand through his hair, laughing in disbelief. “I don’t even know what it means!” Viktoria shrugged and shifted her weight. “That’s what makes it so perfect, though. Even if it has no meaning, people will eventually find one, anyway.” Tegan nodded slowly. “Wow. That got deep.”

Just then, Axel and Tyler came running by for the second time and collapsed on the sand, panting heavily.

“I’m,,, never,,, doing,,, that,,, again,,,” Axel gasped, arms wrapped around his middle.

“Me,,, neither,,,” Tyler agreed, nodding weakly as he stared straight up at the crystal blue sky.

“Okay, that dragged on for way too long.” Tegan stretched his arms above his head and let out a satisfied groan as his joints cracked loudly.

Tadashi’s head snapped to attention. “WHO BROUGHT FIREWORKS?!”

“Ooh, Tadpole’s gonna throw you in his detentsand,” Viktoria teased, resting one arm across the back of his chair.

Tegan pointed with his pale, ridiculously slender index finger. “Out. Get out.”

“I just—“ Viktoria started.

Tegan shook his head vigorously. “Nope nope nope, that was too horrible.” His glasses fell off. He retrieved and replaced them as nonchalantly as he could, which was difficult since he dropped them back onto the sand twice during the process.

Viktoria wandered over to the volleyball court, palms turned upwards. “Looks like I’m booted, so–” “Oh, good.” Ellie grabbed her arm. “We need another player to balance the teams, since–” she gestured vigorously at Axel and Tyler, who looked like a couple of stranded fish.

Viktoria grimaced and shied away. “Oh no, I’m terrible at all sports.” Ellie placed her hands on her hips. “Do you run away from the ball when it comes toward you?” Viktoria shuffled her feet, reluctant to answer. “...Yes, except for in dodgeball, because that’s an easy out.”

Ellie groaned and threw her head back. “Well, at least you’re capable of running, so there’s a start.”

Viktoria pursed her lips and cocked her head, crossing her arms behind herself.

“That depends on your definition of running. Because ‘moving as fast as you can, which is still not a lot’, is just about all I can muster.”

Ellie gave her a deep frown. Viktoria didn’t even know that mouths and eyebrows could turn like that before.

Viktoria gave a backward glance at Tegan, who seemed to be doing a decent enough job of entertaining himself on his phone. Little did she know, he was most definitely taking photos of her. Tasteful ones, of course.

“Okay, fine, I’m in. What do we need to do?” Viktoria began stretching, then started pulling her hair into a low ponytail.

Ellie offered her a spare hair tie and clapped her on the back. “Win, of course!” Viktoria’s jaw dropped open, almost cartoonishly. “Against Raquel and Alistair?” She shook her head, eyes wide. “I’m just gonna hold you back, hon. This has ‘bad idea’ written all over it.”

Alistair looked in their direction and shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m open to switching if you want.” “Tired of winning?” Raquel teased, spinning the ball on the tip of her finger. Viktoria watched enviously.

“Nah, but it sounds like you are.” Alistair chugged a bottle of water, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I am very in over my head I’m not competitive at all this isn’t going to end well for me–” Viktoria very much resembled a deer that wandered onto the highway and was now caught in a rapidly approaching car’s headlights.

Claire rose to her feet and carefully stepped over her completed sandcastle and matching sea dragon, dusting the sand off herself.

“I can join in too, if you want? To take the pressure off of it being two vs. two.” She gave her a tentative smile. Viktoria made a noise of appreciation and threw her arm around her shoulders. “You’re the best, Claire.”

Claire pulled her thick hair over her shoulders and smiled down at her feet. “Now we can suck together. Yay?” Viktoria stared at her in shock, then doubled over laughing. “I can’t believe you just said that! You’re not wrong, though!”

Raquel stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled, one fist in the air. “ALRIGHT, PANSIES! HALFTIME’S OVER! LET’S GOOOO!”

“Y’all are going down!” Ellie bounded over to the other side of the net, game face on.

Alistair placed his hands on his knees and planted his heels in the sand. “In history, maybe!” He hollered back, then to his teammates, “Don’t let them intimidate you, they’re all talk.”

The fire in Raquel’s eyes and the way Ellie pounded her fist into her opposite palm said otherwise.

Claire and Viktoria shared a tight-lipped, ‘we are doomed’ glance.

Claire reached over and weakly touched her fingertips to Viktoria’s. “That’s our team high-five,” she whispered.

“Dream tea–” Viktoria started to whisper back, but was rudely interrupted by Alistair’s shout of “BALL!”

Viktoria flailed her arms outwards. “Ack!”

Claire shielded her face as it headed in her direction. “Eep!” Raquel threw her arm out to the side, palm flat. “OUT!” She called, gleefully.

Viktoria scrunched up her shoulders and reached over to tap fingertips. “Yay, Claire! You got it over!”

Claire returned the gesture, eyes shining. “Dream team!”

18 notes · View notes