blake kathryn
One Nice Bug Per Day
YOU ARE THE REASON
wallacepolsom
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
Three Goblin Art
occasionally subtle
Sade Olutola
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Andulka
Xuebing Du
i don't do bad sauce passes
tannertan36
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AnasAbdin
@theartofmadeline
Love Begins
Janaina Medeiros
Mike Driver
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@ofiends
я грустная сука, детка, прости
We just saw yelena dyatlov entering the st. paul's cathedral. I heard through the grapevine that their loyalties lie with the Jolly Rogers and that they also go by baba yaga. Be careful, they work for them as a contract assassin and can sometimes be unstable, ruthless, or even brutal but I’ve also heard some people say that they were loyal, brave and quite genuine.— o. she/her. age 30. gmt. none
Full Bio . Pintrest . Playlist
London’s a big gaff. People don’t run into each other twice in as many weeks by coincidence. He’s heard sordid stories from throughout the department before: cops being followed home by budding stalkers, cornered by citizens who’ve taken it upon themselves to do police work from the comfort of beyond their own garden fences. Typically it’s harmless and irritating at best, but Jack remembers the way the girl had looked at him from behind her mask. There’d been something haunted in the way she’d stared, mask doing little to disguise the same empty gaze he sees on perps every day.
But he’s tired and cold tonight, barely a third way through his midnight shift, and more lenient than usual. That she’s here now might just be that one in a thousand chance. It helps that she’s pretty easy on the eyes, too.
“Crazy is one way to put it,” Jack mutters, eyeing her from where he’s leaning against the wall of the shop waiting for his shift-partner to order food. “You uh, you doing alright now sweetheart? Sleep off that hangover nice and good, yeah?”
Yelena lingers a few feet from him, relaxed and smirking. Her hands are shoved into the pockets of her slacks still. She scuffs the heel of her boot, an exaggerated Cuban heel, against the filthy pavement below. It looks like she is unable to stay still for too long, constantly moving, constantly fidgeting. Her whole aura is an unthreatening one, until it isn't.
Until her eyes rise to meet his and they are fathomless. Shark black and trailing his face like she's trying to commit ever inch of him to her memory. Trying to decide which parts of him to spare.
"-Me?" Yelena bats her eyelashes at him with a grin. "I'm absolutely fine now Officer-" she puts a hand to her chest, head tilting to the side "-your concern is duly noted." her shoulders lift, a shrug, nonchalant and carefree. She had been mostly sober at the party, 2 glasses of wine and a quick swallow of scotch before leaving, hardly had her laid up in bed the next day. She wasn't going to tell him that though. As far as he seemed to be concerned, Yelena had spent the rest of the night getting liquored up.
She saddled closer, boots scuffing the ground again, hips twisting from side to side with her hands in her pockets steering the direction. She's close enough now that she can see the creases in his shirt, the shine of his badge. It's a rush almost. Being this close to the enemy. Like she is a wild animal, staring down a trap. It could close at any minute. The thought makes her grin.
"You here all by your lonesome?" she asked, eyebrows popping for emphasis. Her voice drops into something teasing, sultry almost and her smile is as sharp as the knife in her pocket. "-London is a dangerous place to be Police these days-" another shrug, half-hearted this time. "-or so I hear, anyway."
Bo mused, eyes blinking as they touched another piece, hands moving to clean another piece, and another, a tiny pen to clear out the dirt, a small brush to brush away the dust. Machines caught dust, in small numbers it did not matter, big amounts however, they fucked up the machines. Cleaning them was important. He couldn’t believe people didn’t do that on the regular, but he also knew many who did not take care of their bodies either.
“Not built to last,” Bo corrected her. “But at least to last longer, with proper maintenance.” Which they figured… Yelena would have them for. If there was anything Bo couldn’t stand, it was machines that needed love, and they cleaned plenty of them, for a little money here and there. “A thousand? Less probably, I wouldn’t need to get you the best graphics card to play that Sims game.”
They grinned at the name use. It was not strange to be called by their name, the nickname that fitted them like a glove. Boudhayan was only now heard in professional places, reminders of hurt and loneliness rather than love. Bo suggested a closeness. And a shyness seeped into their bones, whether made or created, he faked it because it suited him. To pull his shoulders inward and make himself small.
“It’s calming,” Bo explained. “It makes sense. Machines don’t lie, they give the outcome that they can calculate, and they fit in a specific way because that’s how they were designed, and how they can work. If they’re broken, they’re broken, perhaps their pieces can still fit other places, or they are broken completely.”
Yelena made a noise suddenly, half disgust and half disbelief. "One Thousand pounds?" she echoed, chirping like a parrot "-....one THOUSAND-" she scoffed again, louder and shook her head. There was some muttering in Russian then, most of which sounded like curse words, as she shook her head.
"-unbelievable." she finished. Yelena reclined back on the little stool and it creaked precariously. There was a moment, in which she huffed in silence, before finally, the mention of her silly little stress relief game made her eyes light up.
"Oh Bo-" Yelena said whimsically, "-you should really try it. You can make little houses, and little people-" she trailed of, glanced at them and almost laughed at the look levelled in her direction "-ok ok, nothing expensive then."
More silence, in which she just watched Bo work for a while. It wasn't awkward, the way some silences are. It didn't shroud them both in something shadowy and uncomfortable. It was just a quiet. In which she sat and observed, and they sat and worked. She wanted to offer them a cup of something, a coffee, tea maybe? But didn't dare interrupt. Not when their attention became so rapt that she could have sworn she heard them stop breathing.
"Huh-" the explanation made sense, she supposed. "That's....a really interesting way to put it bo. Either broken or it's not-" she snorted slightly, nodding in agreement. "-Suppose it's easier to fix a machine than it is a person." Yelena glanced at them and then, one of those signature, ear to ear grins tore open her face suddenly. Yelena stands up, a sudden and fast swinging motion and she is on her feet again. "-well, I'm getting a drink. Do you want anything?"
"I would have offered, but I'm not no one and you didn't ask." He rolls his eyes, speaking quietly to himself and letting her continue on talking over him as he listens. As her eyebrows jump up, his furrow, the raise doubtfully, bemused. "You could do. It'd do more damage if you could just drop it, though, from a balcony or stairs or something. Books' weight are strange and unbalanced, they're too big and flappy to throw well without straining your arm and wrist..." Zmei pauses, his own words trailing off as he watches her drift slightly. He cocked his head slightly and watched how she came back to herself, taking her hand for a hearty shake.
"Zmei Lazarevich, ochen priyatno." Of course, he's not lying, but finally someone might get the 'joke' of how fake his name sounds. Dragon Wolf's-son is a codename if he's ever heard one, or the name some hyper-masc forest creature from the old stories would come up with while pretending to be a human before creeping away to eat naughty children. He'd have called himself Zmei Zmeyevich if he could have gotten away with it, in full skazki style. As the kids say, it's gender. or somthing. He grinned. "Don't mind if I do-" before grabing one of her six shots and throwing it back before she could stop him.
His handshake is not a gentle one, and it jostles her slightly and the strength surprises her. Yet, Yelena is grinning. The ear to ear kind, the kind that flashes teeth and tongues and twists her expression.
Yelena shakes back, as vigorously as she can manage. There is a pause though, the name sinking in and then registering. Yelena stares at him and then slowly, an eyebrow rises. He lets go of her hand and she reclines back against the bar again, a lazy lean that seems to be her preferred perch.
"Zmei Lazarevich, ah?" Yelena nodded, making a face around the grin she still wore "-was Vladimir Vladimirskiov taken?" Yelena barked a half laugh, as strange a reaction as it was and then, sank one of the shots she had bought. Sliding the empty glass away, she sucked on her cheeks and peered at him, Zmei, this huge man.
She lifted two of the remaining four vodkas, and handed them over. "-but eh-" she shrugged her shoulders, scrunching her face in tandem "-whatever your name is-" Yelena lifted another of the tiny glasses and tilted it at him. "-it is nice to hear that accent again"
She threw the shot back, slammed the glass down and grinned at him again. It seems to be a perpetual fixture on her face, she seemed to not be able to go a moment without baring her teeth.
Olivia could have laughed at Yelena's question, and if Yelena really knew her she might even laugh too. Had anyone caught her eye? No. Was she looking for someone? Also no. Whether she answered with a yes or a no, either one would lead to potential follow-up questions and Olivia didn't want to outright lie in Yelena's face. Even if her entire self was some sort of lie constructed during a desperate time.
"Not yet, but here's hoping." Olivia made a show of crossing her fingers as she raised her hand for her to see and looked hopeful before trying to swiftly move on, hoping that Yelena wouldn't delve deeper.
"I've got this round, you can get the next one." Olivia flashed a grin as she pocketed the small change before lifting a pint in each hand to take back to their table.
Her eyebrows raised as she was curious about what was so great about the dungeons and then as Yelena explained she was more intrigued. "Well, as long as it's informative. Not too scary though, right? I don't want to end up having nightmares about serial killers." That was the last thing that Olivia needed. She slept just fine, usually, but now and then a strange noise coming from the hallway of her apartment building would have her staring at the door for hours, waiting for something that never came. It was a hard feeling to shake.
Yelena gave the bartender a a glance, a sharp thing under all that makeup and grinned when he squirmed. She followed Olivia's lead then, hefting the drinks into her hands and pulling an ol' twist and turn through the crowd to make it back to the table they had commandeered.
Dropping into the chair heavily, only after setting her pints down, Yelena rearranged herself into a curve, elbows braced on the table top, legs crossed neatly under it. She looked like she meant business, all eagle eyed and smiling, that dark stare levelled on Olivia. There was a moment, not long at all, when all Yelena did was look at her, the expression on her face sharp but docile.
"Hmm-" she seemed to unfreeze then, reaching for the pint closest to her left hand and sucking down another hefty gulp. She was licking the overlap of taste from her top lip when she grinned at Olivia again "Nah-" Yelena waved her hand dismissively. "-Don't be such a chicken Olivia, kids go there all the time." Yelena glanced over the rim of her glass, still grinning "-do you want me to go with you?" her tone was only slightly mocking, but it was the friendly sort. Banter, she had heard the English say once. It was all Banter.
She's still cradling her pint, tilting the glass from side to side ever so slightly. Fidgeting as per the usual. "Tacky tourist traps aside, Olivia-" Yelena began, arching an eyebrow at her "-what do you want to do? I mean if you're going to be here for a while. There has to be something occupying your time?" There is a keenness to her then, in the sharp glint of her dark eyes that is reminiscent of wildlife, feral and over attentive. Like she wants to know everything.
VILLANELLE 3.04, Still Got It
(via ▶︎ (SIGH) | Unloved)
Moody femme fatale vibes, was used in Killing Eve ;-)
Bora's tried to be annoyed about this. At his mother giving out keys--to anyone, but especially outside the family. At Yelena showing up whenever she wants, and helping herself to whatever he has.
And yet, when he opens the door to find her boots and coat in the entryway, he’s happy about it. And when he sees Yelena herself, sitting on his couch like she belongs there, his heart surges, and he automatically returns her grin. There’s so much he has to think about these days, to analyze and calculate and do everything he possibly can to make the best choice for his family.
But with Yelena, it’s easy. At least for now.
“Good morning,” he answers, leaving his own boots and coat next to hers and stretching out next to her. He’s moving a little stiffly—he’d had an uncooperative target the night before and come away with a slash down his ribs, which Sabahat had stitched up before sending him home in Emir’s borrowed clothes while she tried to salvage his bloodstained ones. But once he’s next to Yelena, his head resting on her thigh and her warmth easing the tension from his neck and shoulders, he’s suddenly comfortable. Holding a hand out for a piece of baklava—and cutting a brief look up at her as he realizes how little is left—he says, “Guess how long my mother complained about my tattoo today.”
But the grin from a moment before hasn’t really left his face, and he can’t be annoyed right now—not with Yelena here, so close he can pull her down to kiss him. “Where’d you come from?” he murmurs, still smiling against her lips. "Have you been here long?"
It's an unspoken thing, Yelena doesn't even think about it, as she pries of a corner piece with her thumb and fore-finger and hands it over, grinning down at him. The carefree little waggle of her eyebrows a confirmation that while she was aware he was unhappy with her thievery, she was also aware that he wasn't likely to do anything about it. His weight is a comfort though, as it settles upon her lap, and she can not help but let her free hand drift to card through his hair. A touch that is all gentle affection.
"Hmm-" Yelena reclined back on the sofa, lifting her legs to rest her feet on his coffee table. Her other hand reaches down to ghost along the bicep she knows bares all the ink. "-knowing Sabahat, and knowing how much she hates it-" Yelena grinned at him, giving the bicep in question an affectionate squeeze "-Ohh....I'm going to say an hour straight." Her grin is unflinching as she stares down at him "-No breaks."
She crosses her ankles but is careful not to jostle him. Bora looks tierd, but comfortable, so she does all this slowly. When she looks at him again, it is with a smile so sweet it could crack a tooth. He kisses her then, and even after all this time, Yelena still can not help the giddy surge that makes her heart thunder in her chest.
She kisses him back, and its all sweet edges and the lingering taste of honey from the food they shared. There is the electric lick of smoke too, from the cigarettes he likes, and when he pulls away, Yelena is almost laughing aloud with the delight of it all. She is so happy with all this domesticity, she could burst.
"-from Soho." she mumbled against his mouth, the hand she had bore into his hair, coming to rest along his jaw, stroking softly. "-you are not the only killer out there at night-" she kisses him again, only just "-Hmm, No, not long-" her thumb brushed along the jut of his cheek, the stubble a scratchy thrill under her fingers. "-I had a key, and my flat seemed lonely." Yelena grew almost serious then, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, his cheek. All those sharp parts of him she loved "-I had to see you." The admission is frank and honest and lovely, all at once and when Yelena smiled at him again, it was paired with the sweetest of sudden kisses.
Trained senses, the ones that made him decidedly unfun at parties (or so said literally everyone he went to parties with), turned his head for him at the approach of a stranger. Even those trained senses didn't react quickly enough to mask the lingering soreness in his abdomen, though, but he offered her a smile anyway at the woman's arrival and friendly greeting.
It had been months and he still wasn't used to being so... known. And how wide her smile was. Sharp eyes danced wordlessly on the injury that rested on her lip, assessing how fresh it appeared, his gaze lingering for maybe just a moment too long before a paper map was thrust to him. "Is it that obvious?" He chuckled, rather dry and bereft of the humour that usually accented his superficial interactions with the public. "It's not my first time but with how... poorly my memory is when it comes to dinosaurs, it might as well be my first time." He rose an eyebrow, looking down at the map. "I'm... enjoying myself, though." He nodded as though that would help sell the fabrication of the lie.
"Are you a frequent visitor?" He asked. "Oh, uh... am I in your way?" He followed up, starting to take a small step away from the skeletal structure.
"Eh-" Yelena made a face and shrugged her shoulders. "-A little. Museums are supposed to be fun-" she wiggled the map at him again and smiled sharply. There was a moment, a beat in which she kept her eyes locked on his, before ultimately, lowering her outstretched hand. Yelena leans into a recline, her weight planted on the slight jut of her left hip. Her eyes, black and shining in the low museum light, did not leave his face "Oh-" her face lit up suddenly. She smiled again, polite and pointed but edged too, as if there was the beginnings of a true, bone deep excitement in her.
"The Dinosaurs are the best. thing here" Yelena eventually affirmed and there was a softness to her suddenly that was almost juvenile. She turned her face away, eyes wide and wandering across the animals bones as if they were the closest thing to true art she had ever seen. The smile that lingered on her face bore a sadness in the stretch of it.
Yelena then turned toward him again, shifting so suddenly it was almost comical. "No no" she said, gesturing to the space he already occupied "-please, you aren't in anyone's way-." She nodded gravely then, hardly giving him time to breathe. "You have to be consistent with things like this, they tend to change the bones out sometimes. You never know when spike here'll go back into storage-" she pursed her lips, mostly in mocking.
Silence then fell like a shroud over them both and Yelena exhaled loudly before it could get clawing "-are you sure you are ok?" she asked him, cocking a brow "-here, I mean." Something settled then in her eyes, something hard and almost taunting. Yelena cocked an eyebrow, head tilting in tandem "-you are sure you wouldn't rather be anywhere else? Hey-" She turned in a sudden sweeping gesture, pointing the map of into the distance "-they have a great vase exhibit in the west wing at the moment, if that's more you're style."
"Worst of the worst." She agreed with a grimace. She didn't like talking about her parents much, preferring to avoid the topic rather than delve into her fucked up childhood. It wasn't an easy topic to discuss and with most people she'd dismiss it and not say anything, but Yelena was different, one of the few people she genuinely trusted. "They're definitely good at taking whatever they can get their hands on." She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen either of her parents sober for longer than a few hours.
Yaz shuddered, shaking her head. A nine to five sounded like her worst nightmare. Doing the same thing over and over again, day in and day out. A life of crime was exciting, an adrenaline rush you couldn't get elsewhere.
Yelena stared at her friend, eyes hard as ice chips behind the slim flick of a cat eye. She traced Yasemin's face, the high cheeks and fine jaw, the wild dark curls that Yelena had been envious of from the moment she had met her. She found it hard to hate Yasemin. She always had. They were friends after all, and her youthful boisterousness was an infectious thing. So there was a slight bubbling of rage in her, like the secret sea riptide, at the thought that someone could dislike her at all.
Let alone that someone be parents.
Yelena made a noise, a half snort in the back of her throat as her eyebrows popped and she pursed her lips. "-what would you like to do though, Yasemin, if you didn't do this. Really, I mean" Yelena reared up onto the heel of her shoe again, fidgeting."-I think I would have liked to make dresses." Yelena smiled at her suddenly, all the warm bleeding back into her face so quickly, that her cheeks seemed to un-hollow on the spot. "-or plan weddings, that would be fun."
Status: open to anyone! Location: Some back alley.
Ublyudok. Motherfucker. This was not ideal.
Yelena had fallen hard, hitting the tarmac with a thud that had knocked all the breath from her. Her shoulder, the old and injured one, twinged suddenly and she grunted something foul in Russian. It was a quick thing then, to scramble and slot herself between two huge bins, the kinds with flip lids that restaurants used. This was supposed to be a simple hit. It was supposed to be easy. The Fucker wasn't supposed to be armed. It was Oksana all over again. Yelena bit back the memory with a groan, and dropped her head back with a curse.
Was she of her game? The sudden and sharp realisation of such a terrible loss sent a full body shudder through her. What was she, if not a killer. What could she be, if not a monster.
Yelena pressed herself tightly to the wet brick wall of whatever fast foot joint she had been shot behind and scowled. She had dropped her gun somewhere between standing upright, and being forced horizontal. So with her free hand, she pressed sticky wet fingers into the bullet wound in her left shoulder, the very same one that was currently pumping all of her blood onto the dark, grimy ground. Yelena tried not to cry out. She really did.
This was not Ideal at all. Not with the sudden sound of feet on the tarmac.
"I'm not feeling it yet," Olivia said, her face etched with a hint of disappointment. The city was enormous, bustling and overflowing with life, but she had expected to be swept away by it all. Instead, she found herself feeling rather bored because Olivia was still missing something in her life. She constantly suppressed any thoughts that it might be Zane and doubts that this might have all been for nothing. However, Olivia wasn't giving up on finding something that would make her feel fulfilled.
Thankfully, having a friend like Yelena was a blessing. Olivia knew that she could always count on her, and vice versa, as long as their hectic work schedules allowed. They could spend their time together, laughing and having fun, instead of getting caught up in the daily grind. However, despite the joy she found in Yelena's company, it still didn't quite satisfy Olivia's longing for something more. She wasn't sure what she would do if she couldn't find it.
As the bartender deftly poured their pints, Olivia reached into her purse and pulled out a crisp twenty, placing it on the wooden bar top. "What do you do when you're not out drinking with me? Can you recommend some interesting places to go in this city?" Olivia asked her friend with curiosity, eager to hear about the exciting adventures that she knew Yelena must have experienced during her time in London. There must be something that had attracted her here too.
Yelena had glanced over Olivia's head, peering down into the depths of a full pub and a long night. She stared at all the people, the couples, the friends that all took up space between her and the door out of there. It was a natural thing, after so long in such a game, to look for an exit in the chaos. Olivia was talking, Yelena knew as much, but she was only half paying attention. Could Yelena get herself and her friend out of here if she had to?, could she wrangle them both to a door so far-
Yelena snapped out of her daydream with a smile that was more polite than it was anything else. Olivia was looking at her, and there were the beginnings of two pints on the bar top. Yelena tilted her head to the side and grinned suddenly "-No?" That's a shame." Yelena shook her head, as if disapproving. "-come on Olivia, there must had been something here that's peeked your interest?. It's a big city. Lots to do, lots of people to meet. Anyone caught your eye yet?"
The 20 Olivia had pulled made Yelena shake her head, "Olivia-" she said, tutting under her breath. "Please let me-" It was too late though, the bartender having picked up the money with a flourish. Yelena glanced in his direction with a frown, she grinned though, suddenly and then with a flirtatious arch of her body, angled herself toward the men behind the bar. The pints came quickly then, and she and Olivia were left mercifully alone.
"The Dungeons. Do the London Dungeons. They were great. Very informative-" Yelena nodded solemnly "-and gruesome." Yelena finished, only half serious. "-They have a whole section dedicated to Jack the ripper-" her eyebrows flared high above all that dark green paint as she sucked down a deep gulp of lager and said "-It was a wild ride."
Bo was in their element, too focussed on everything they were doing, and how they were doing it to be concerned with anyone forcing them to work harder or to explain themself. Bo was, in a way, a perfect figure of meditative work. Legs pulled to his centre, his back leaning forward but not dangerously so, gravity working in his favour.
"Positive," they said in response, as they pried another piece loose and cleaned the inside of the old laptop.
They noted the sudden nearness and risked a look over their shoulder. Yelena looked different through the tiny glasses, so they quickly refocussed on the machine. "Hmm, perhaps not cheaper than buying one from the store right now, but certainly cheaper than getting the one you have fixed. And I could make you a better one. They don't make them as sturdy as these anymore," they said as they tapped on the old laptop. "Certainly not making them to survive anymore. If you want something that can hold out a decade, you need a custom made." They carefully removed the touchpad. "I would get you a good price."
Yelena stared up at them, the curled idleness of their leg, the slight crook in their back as they bent down. They wore glasses, the funny kind that threw your eyes out of whack and made you look like a cartoon. They were a study in rapt concentration. A statue almost, if the constant moving of their hands didn't give them away.
Bo was absolutely in their element. They were even smiling, a half thing that was hardly there at all, but it was. It made Yelena's mouth quirk too. Bo was so earnest about everything, so intelligent. They knew things about the way this machine worked that Yelena couldn't dream about knowing. That was cool, she supposed.
"Built to last huh-" she nodded, mouth pursing. "-not that it's an issue, but how much as we talking for a space age machine that can do everything for me for the rest of my life-" she grinned at them, eyebrows popping for emphasis when she said his name "-Bo."
She nodded along when they spoke then, eyebrows flaring at intervals as if to say 'Yes I absolutely know what you're talking about and I have no further questions at all'
Only she did have questions. Lots of them.
Yelena leaned forward again, arms up and hands splayed. She settled her chin in her open palms and blinked up at them, her smile lazy.
"You really like doing this, huh?" she said, voice so low it could be argued that she was talking to herself. "-taking these things apart and seeing how it all works." Her head cocked to the side, and she stared up at them "-Why?"
