#thewasabipea

OKAY SO i know you wanted something a bit more orpheus/eurydice and i TRIED MY BEST OK but all i could manage was a modern subversion of it. i tried??? I TRIED. 

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“You came.” Klaus sets down his tumbler, having just hastily swallowed the remainder of his bourbon. The glass hits the oiled wood of the bar top with a muted clatter. And he’s looking at her, damn him, with that look he always gets in his eyes. Like he could just sweep her into his arms, bury his face in her hair and whisper it’s you, it’s you, I can’t believe it’s you—

No. Stop.

Klaus studies her, how she is determinedly not looking at him. The expression in his eyes dim ever so slightly. He clears his throat and turns his gaze to the barman.

You came, he had said, so full of awe.

Of course she’d come.

Caroline eyes the bottom of the glass and says steadily: “You called my name.”

Klaus’ hand stops. It had been on its way to gesture for another drink, but his hand drops, it drops to the bar top and – are his knuckles white? “You heard?”

“Of course I did.” Caroline suppresses her eyeroll (fails) and makes herself comfortable on the stool next to his. “You woke me up from a nightmare I was having.”

“Care to share?” he asks. A drink is put down in front of him but he slides it towards her, already gesturing for another one.

“It’s the same one as always,” Caroline admits. “You call my name, I feel you behind me – I feel you there, but I turn around and you’ve apparated into thin air.”

Klaus looks down at his new drink, mouth set in a straight line. She knows he’s thinking of a time long ago when he’d push her hair away from her damp forehead, gather her in his arms and whisper into her ear things she can no longer remember – but she remembers that they had been comforting. Assuring. Strengthening. Damning.

When Klaus looks at her he doesn’t bring up the image that’s hanging awkwardly in the air between the two of them. Instead, he breathes a laugh through his nose. Says: “Ironic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Between the two of us, I think it’s fair to say you were always better at disappearing.”

Caroline narrows her eyes. “I’m here now.”

“Because I called you, yes, I’m quite up to date on that, sweetheart,” Klaus snaps, and yes, he is frustrated, maybe he’s hurt – maybe he’s angry, too. “I called you, and you so happen to show up, now, after three years. As if I haven’t been calling for you, pleading with the moon for your return since the day you’d left.”

He drains his drink. Tilts his head at hers, Are you going to finish that? Wordlessly she nudges her glass to him. “You told me you loved me.”

“As if you ever needed me to verbalise it,” he responds bitterly. She doesn’t hear the next word. Hypocrite. “You knew. You always knew, love. I never made it a bloody secret.”

“So you didn’t have to say it,” she accuses. “You just had to ruin—”

“The woman I fell in love with was not a coward. She didn’t run away at the first sign of struggle.”

Caroline sits back, stung. “I couldn’t follow where you wanted me to go, Klaus. I couldn’t – I wasn’t ready—”

Klaus continues, as if he hadn’t heard her, “As if I hadn’t already proved my willingness to wait – hadn’t already proved that everything – everything, love! – carried me to you.”

“Klaus,” she says carefully. “You’re making a scene. The locals are uncomfortable.”

The clatter of silver cutlery had stalled – there was a lull now where the conversations had been an indulgent hush mingling in the dim lighting of the sky bar, muted laughter that bounced against the cold glass that offered them an uninterrupted view they had of Tokyo-at-night.

Klaus takes a steadying breath. He turns his back on the curious, prying glances and squares his shoulders. “Far be it for me to cause a scene.”

Caroline has to roll her eyes again at that. But she – damn her – she reaches for his hand. Klaus to his credit does not pull away. He stills, though, and he does not feel warm like she remembered him to be. Maybe she’s disappointed. “How do I acquit myself?”

“Come home with me.” Klaus doesn’t even hesitate. His eyes lock onto hers – resolute. A challenge. “Come home.”

“I won’t look back,” Caroline promises.

“Good.” Klaus lets out a breath he must not realise he had been holding in. His eyes close. He softens to her touch, finally, and brings her hand to his lips. Kisses softly her knuckles; the kiss lingers on the finger that still wears his ring. “Good.”

hi!! writing that was so much fun, and I’ve reposted it on ao3, which i’ll link here. 

one multiple times? i ADORE to the ends of the earth every interpretation of soft mystical bucky barnes (and sam, and steve). shapeshifter! and witch! bucky might be my most faves, for what i've said earlier? your angst, your healing fics are so lovely, i hate to ignore them, but sometimes i can't always handle that soft hurt, if that makes sense? and i've waxed as poetic as i can about "make my body come alive". everything you write is a joy, a revelation, a delight, a ray of peace. 💜

omgggggg but like D E F I N I T E L Y that is how they met??? Bucky got traded to Man U a few seasons back and Steve’s still, like, furious and cut up about it, and Sam is all, well, let’s see how this plays out

how it plays out is, by their third match Sam’s like Steven Grant Rogers if you let James Barnes steal the ball from you one more fucking time, I swear to fuck I am quitting 

and of course Bucky’s always been a total sucker for a beautiful face so he just PILES on the flirts

Bucky: hey baby how you doing

Sam: I hate you

FUCK YOU MY HAIR IS SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER, BARNES, YOU KNOW IT

OOH I’M ZLATAN I’M GONNA GROW A USELESS FUCKIN MOUSTACHE M8

if you don't mind me asking: what's your go-to recs for shampoo/conditioner? i have naturally dark brown/black hair, and am no longer able to bleach (unless i'm gonna lop off the last 16 inches or so of hair) and would like to keep my blue a little better. (also i gotta wash every day. oil, man. OIL.)

wait I’m confused, you want recs for shampoo/conditioner for bleached/white/pastel-dyed hair? or you have blue hair? WHO KNOWS okay but when I say ‘blue conditioner’ i mean: it’s blue and it keeps my hair Not Yellow. but here’s my Hair Situation for white/pastel hair, at least:

1) L’Oreal Professionel Colour Corrector Blondes. whaddya know, this isn’t even a conditioner, it’s a “cc cream”. For hair. Let’s be real here it’s a toning mask/conditioner. I use it once a week, it keeps my hair nice and toned-out. Like I said: it’s blue. If you leave it on bleached-white hair too long it will come out kinda blue-gray but it washes out in the next wash, so.

2) Some Kind Of Keratin Mask. I like the L’Oreal Elvive one but the point is, keratin. Again, I use it once a week (ish, closer to once a fortnight, or it goes into my dye mix) and I SLATHER that shit on immediately after bleaching my roots.

3) literally I use Dove shampoo and conditioner on the regs because paying $50 for salon product is ridiculous to me, but I have a short bob/pixie cut situation and apparently freakishly strong hair. If you want long hair that is also bleached out, you’re probably gonna have to pay for it via salon products. For a while when I had lilac I was using Lush Daddy-O which is a purple shampoo, and that really did help keep it a really pretty colour, but it’s also super drying which is a pain in the ass.

4) spray-in conditioner. Again, I use one with keratin in it. Making My Hair Not Feel Like Straw, it’s a daily situation.

5) Some Kind Of Argan Oil Situation. See: Making My Hair Not Feel Like Straw. I put a couple pumps (coin-size) through it while it’s towel-dried, wait half an hour (makeup routine), blow-dry, put another drop or so through it if the ends are particularly fluffy.

6) if u wanna keep that pastel, mix your colour into your conditioner. Generally, you’ll get a better and more even pastel if you dilute the colour down with conditioner and continually apply to layer/build up the colour over time.