sashavasilieva

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⸻ The final round had just wrapped when Sasha slipped away from the ring, moving with practiced stealth to retrieve the championship belt. It was part of the gig, flash, glam, timing. But as she passed into the staff area, a dull thud echoed from the direction of the lockers. Her pace slowed. Instinct — or maybe curiosity; kicked in, and she veered toward the sound. What she found made her blood run cold. One of the fighters was collapsed on the floor, sprawled beside the lockers, unmoving. Sasha dropped the belt without a second thought, the leather hitting tile with a lifeless slap. She rushed to his side, crouching down as her fingers moved automatically, checking his pulse, his breathing, the color of his lips.

He had a pulse. Weak. Thready. His chest barely moved.��� For fuck’s sake— ❜ She hissed under her breath, already shifting into medical mode. The ring girl vanished. The doctor took over. She tilted his head back gently, opened his airway, and started compressions, positioning her hands perfectly on his sternum. Her eyes locked in, her focus razor-sharp. ❛ Раз... два... три... ❜ She counted aloud in Russian, pressing down with controlled force, adrenaline making her movements faster, sharper. After a few compressions, she pinched his nose, gave two solid breaths. Nothing. His heartbeat was still dangerously slow. Shallow. She resumed CPR without hesitation, sweat beginning to bead at her temples under the bright locker room lights.

❛ Come on… Don’t you dare. ❜ Her voice was tight, low, and fierce. He was shirtless — made it easier, at least. She kept count in Russian, slipping between compressions and rescue breaths with the practiced rhythm of someone who had done this before. Someone who knew what was at stake. Footsteps echoed behind her, heavy and rushed. Sasha didn’t stop, just snapped her head toward the sound, eyes sharp. ❛ Call an ambulance. Now. ❜ She barked. ❛ I can’t leave him. ❜ Her palms pressed into his chest again. Steady. Relentless. It had been months since she’d been in a hospital. Since her life had been scrubs and charts and the endless buzz of machines. But the instincts hadn’t dulled. Motherhood may have changed her. The ring girl may be who people saw. But this — this was who she really was.

Location: The Grudge Box.

@c0exiist

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⸻ Before Sasha could reach the teething ring, Zelie beat her to it. Still, the blonde gave her an apologetic look as she approached. ❛ I really am sorry. They’re still working on the whole hand-eye coordination thing. ❜ Her voice was soft, slightly breathless from moving quickly, and her smile —apologetic but warm — tugged at her lips. Sasha glanced back toward them just in time to hear another round of eager "Mama!" ring out in stereo, their little arms now outstretched toward the melting scoop in her hand.

❛ Maybe he’s got a future in baseball. ❜ She joked, shooting Zelie a sheepish grin. Sasha turned back to the stroller, crouching down slightly as the twins squirmed in excitement. Tiny fingers reached out, nearly knocking the ice cream out of her hand. ❛ Alright, one last bite, and that’s it. ❜ She warned gently, scooping the final bit of ice cream between the two of them before tossing the cup and spoon into the nearest trash bin. Yelena let out a dramatic sigh like her life had just ended. Ilya hiccupped with a sticky giggle. Sasha wiped their mouths with a napkin from her bag, her movements automatic, practiced. Then she glanced back at Zelie again. ❛ Thanks for not throwing it back at me. ❜ Her tone was light, self-deprecating, her eyes holding a spark of genuine gratitude.

Zelie had been about to snap something sharp when the plastic ring bounced off her shoulder, her mouth already opening with an irritated retort until she turned and saw the chaos unfolding — a frazzled mother with two tiny humans in the most ridiculous little outfits she'd ever seen. Oh. Well, that changed things completely. The twins' excited chorus of "Mama! Mama!" made her bite back whatever harsh words had been forming because honestly, how could anyone stay mad at babies who looked like they were ready for a beach vacation? "It's fine, really," she found herself saying instead, bending to pick up the teething ring before the woman could reach it, and wow, these kids were actually pretty adorable despite nearly taking her eye out with their projectile. "No harm done, although your little guy has quite the arm on him." She held out the ring with a small smile, genuinely amused now by the whole situation because this was definitely not how she'd expected her afternoon to go.

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⸻ From his tone, she figured Reaper definitely wasn’t a pitbull. For a split second, she pictured something small — an iguana maybe, or a hamster with a Napoleon complex. The kind of pet that acts like it runs the place. That is, until her eyes landed on the puffed-up ball of black feathers staring her down like she owed it rent. The more the raven puffed his chest, the more Sasha half-expected him to burst like one of those dramatic animals in a Shrek movie. Maybe she needed to cut back on cartoons.

❛ You don’t scare me, Reaper. I’ve got a little brother of yours at home. ❜ Jack was a menace. He attacked people for fun and shat on anyone who dared call him a pigeon. She crossed her legs as she waited for Rhys to bring their drinks, careful not to touch anything — half-convinced even her shadow might smudge the place. Her hands rested neatly in her lap, posture composed, the kind of grace she’d been trained into — hostess-perfect. Her bangs fell softly into her eyes as she toyed with the rings on her fingers, a nervous habit she didn’t realize had returned until her skin remembered the cold of silver.

She took the glass from him with a nod. ❛ Thanks. ❜ The vodka burned cleanly down her throat, but she barely blinked—like it was nothing more than water. After a small sip, she placed her glass next to his and glanced sideways at him. ❛ Almost two weeks. ❜ She said, still fiddling with one of the rings. ❛ My father used to come here sometimes, but I never came with him. ❜ She didn’t need to say more. God only knew what kind of shady shit Alexei had been involved in. Betting, drinking, deals she wasn’t supposed to know about — it wasn’t her business now, and she didn’t want it to be.

❛ I guess I’ve settled. Unpacked everything, at least. Still a few things left to fix, but I haven’t had the time — or the energy. ❜ That was an understatement. Taking care of the ( their ) twins drained her more than any overnight shift at the hospital ever had. Work now was just a means to survive. ❛ I’m good. ❜ She added quickly, almost too quickly. She didn’t want him offering help. She didn’t want him thinking she needed it. She leaned forward to grab her glass again, taking another slow sip to give her hands something to do. The quiet was starting to feel heavier than the drink. She hated that it made her feel off balance. ❛ Have you been living here long? ❜ She asked finally, hoping to cut through the silence — or maybe just fill it so she didn’t have to say anything real.

━━━the question prompted a quiet, short laugh. “he could be,” his tone had been playful, clearly teasing as it hinted to the fact that Reaper is, in fact, not a pitbull —but he certainly likes to think he is one, especially when they had unwanted visitors. the dark feathered bird fit into the space as if he were part of the decor, as if he belonged there for the aesthetically pleasing sight. such was his home: dark, luxurious, with accents of marble, of gold. pristine, untouched, as if no one had been there before, as if someone was not living there. Rhys valued order; it helped with the chaos going on in his head most of the time, hence he was a perfectionist in his life, organized —a projection in a way, as if order would fall in his mind in the same manner.

his blue eyes shifted to the impressive raven when they entered; the displeased, unimpressed grok he let out was soft, but loaded. when Sasha spoke again, he laughed a little, but didn’t look at her. “both,” he responded, matter-of-factly, but his voice was laced with a softness, no real offense taken in the comment. she wasn’t wrong after all, he was aware it gave off the impression of not being lived in. without another comment, he poured her drink, watched her in silence for a long second when she moved closer to Reaper, the way he gave her a side eye, feathers puffed out to make him appear even bigger than he was. he was aware the raven would not attack, nor move closer to her; it was a warning for her to not get closer to him either. often, he gets the impression that Reaper truly thinks he is above everyone else, main character syndrome, but he is lucky that he at least loves his vet and allows her to easily take a look at him when it is required.

“he does, but only when he feels like it,” he responded as he made his way up to where she had sat down on the couch and handed her the drink. he sat down next to her, close, but not too close —then placed a coaster on the coffee table for her to set her drink down, did the same for himself. “how long have you been in Devil’s Junction?” he inquired out of curiosity, for he had lived here for so long and never ran into her before till tonight, and it made him wonder.  

he hadn’t realized how he had missed her presence until she was right here again, in the flesh. out of sight, out of mind does work for him; not seeing her, he could convince himself it had all been in his head, he could divert his thoughts when they drifted back to her, to them. he could pretend it never meant anything, it was just a passing thing. seeing her again tonight had brought back the same feelings he had convinced himself were fleeting, meaningless; had made him realize he had been thinking about her this whole time and had simply attributed it to the fact that he had up and left and never explained to her ( which was not untrue either ). “have you settled?” he followed the prior question with another after a short moment had passed when he really just needed to tell her it was good to have her there; he had fucked up, but he couldn’t admit to her he had run away because of feelings, not when he couldn’t admit it to himself, even.

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MARGOT ROBBIE via Instagram (July 19, 2025)

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⸻ Sasha let out a low chuckle. ❛ God, I respect that. You’re smarter than me — at least you draw the line. Me? I still catch myself giving advice to idiots who don’t even deserve eye contact. ❜ She leaned back slightly, resting her back on the wall behind her. ❛ And no, it’s not surprising. People love the idea of getting better — until it means facing themselves without the filters. ❜ Her gaze dropped briefly, thoughtful. ❛ Therapy requires accountability. And most folks around here treat that like garlic to a vampire. ❜ Her smile turned faint, not unkind. ❛ If someone won’t pay for the emotional labor, they damn sure won’t survive the homework that comes after it. ❜ She added... ❛ Though if you ever do start charging per red flag spotted, I’ve got a few casino regulars I’d happily refer your way. Good for business. ❜

all of those things were true. she'd had plenty of dates where she'd been asked to analyze them but that was the thing about jade - she didn't mix business and pleasure. "i don't work for free," she finally spoke, "if they really want me to analyze them then that's something that they're going to have to book an appointment for. most don't, by the way, but i'm sure that's not surprising. most people don't want to accept that they'll actually benefit from therapy, which is extremely frustrating."

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⸻ His comment made her laugh softly. ❛ Sometimes. ❜ Her voice held a hint of mischief. Yelena, mid-suck on her bottle, paused and turned her head toward Bastian. With the wobble of an unsteady infant, she stretched her chubby arm out and offered him her bottle like it was a peace treaty. Sasha glanced at the gesture, amused, and murmured, ❛ Generous, aren't you, Lena? ❜ Meanwhile, Ilya had already drained his own bottle with the urgency of a baby who hadn’t eaten in weeks. When he finished, he looked up at Sasha with wide, solemn grey-blue eyes that mirrored hers. He held up the empty bottle like he expected a refill — or maybe just applause. Then, his gaze shifted to Bastian, locking onto him as if trying to figure out if he was a threat or entertainment.

Sasha adjusted Ilya’s bib, wiping a bit of formula from his chin. Yelena leaned into her mother’s arm with a soft grunt, pressing her little hand insistently against Sasha’s sleeve as if claiming her. ❛ Oi! I'm always honest, Bastian, ❜ Sasha said, after chewing a piece of steak that was so good it pulled an involuntary ❛ Hmmm. ❜ From her. She dabbed at her lips with a napkin and then tilted her head thoughtfully at his earlier question. ❛ A bit of both, I guess. Survival mode and... something else. ❜ Her eyes dropped to the twins, who were now mellow and blinking slowly, heads beginning to loll in that full-bellied, post-bottle haze. ❛ But let’s just say they gave me a reason to exist with purpose. Every time I feel like I might snap, I ask myself, if I go off the rails, who’s going to protect them? Who’s going to show them what it looks like to stay steady when things get ugly? ❜

She paused, cutting another bite of her steak, slower this time. ❛ When I was younger, I didn’t always have that compass. There were times I felt like I was outside of myself, like some switch had flipped. My coach back then — he used to talk me down, help me get a grip before I spiraled. Now? Now I’ve got to do that part on my own. For them.❜ Her voice had softened, but there was no pity in it — just quiet resolve. She scooped Yelena into her lap, the baby curling up contentedly against her chest, thumb slipping into her mouth. Ilya was already half-asleep, his head tilted sideways in the chair. ❛ So yeah... I bite my tongue. I breathe through the nonsense. And if I haven’t flipped a table yet, I figure I’m still on the right path. ❜

“Not throwing a chair is a pretty high bar, honestly. Most people I know would’ve snapped by now.” Bastian let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Casino work sounds brutal. People think they can treat staff like background noise, just because the chips are stacked in front of them. I’ve seen it plenty. You ever get the urge to just hand someone their drink with a side of mashed potatoes to the face?” He grinned, a little sharper than he meant, but it was too easy to picture.

“I guess having these two as your audience keeps you honest, huh? Can’t exactly teach them to keep their cool if you’re launching steak knives at idiots.” He watched the twins for a second, both so content with their bottles, and it hit him how much Sasha was juggling without ever making a scene about it. It’s wild how some people just keep moving, no matter how much crap gets thrown at them He’d spent years around people who folded at the first sign of disrespect, but Sasha just absorbed it and kept going. Maybe that’s what real toughness looks like He took a bite of his food, not really tasting it. “What’s your trick? Is it just survival mode, or do you have some secret Zen mantra for not flipping tables?” He was half joking, but he really wanted to know.

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⸻ Sasha slowed her steps, just for a moment. She didn’t turn fully toward Rhea, but her head angled enough to meet her gaze — not a challenge, but not submission either. The smile on her lips barely shifted, still brittle and tired, though her eyes had cooled a shade. ❛ I find it’s better to give people what they expect. ❜ She said evenly, her voice like silk pulled taut. ❛ That way, no one’s disappointed when they show their teeth and don’t get a reaction. ❜ She adjusted the tray in her hand, her posture still straight despite the dull sting in her knees and the prickle of sweat beneath her collar. ❛ But thanks for the notes. ❜ She added lightly. ❛ I’ll send them to management. Maybe next time they’ll book someone with a tighter routine. ❜ There was no warmth in her tone, but no fire either. Just control — the kind that came from holding yourself together because falling apart wasn’t an option. And with that, Sasha moved on, the click of her heels like punctuation on the conversation.

She'd had barely touched her drink, and yet the ice had already begun to melt, trailing condensation down the stem of the glass. She watched the interaction unfold across the room without flinching—Sasha’s stumble, the laughter, the cruel slurred words that followed. It was the kind of spectacle that made other people uncomfortable. Rhea, however, just observed. Coolly. Calmly. Almost clinically. It was ridiculous that people laughed, but that was sadly human nature. By the time Sasha righted herself and moved on, Rhea’s gaze had already shifted back to her phone, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. She looked up only when Sasha passed near her table again, her smile—thin, brittle, unconvincing—still plastered in place like it was part of the uniform.

"That was graceful," Rhea murmured, voice dry, not loud enough for the whole floor to hear but definitely loud enough for Sasha. There was no kindness in it. No venom either. Just the sharp indifference of someone who’d seen it all before and wasn’t especially moved. She let the words settle before tilting her head slightly, considering. “If that was your idea of a floor show, I’ve seen worse.” There was a long pause, then a faint, cool smile tugged at her lips. “But I suppose you’re used to that sort of attention.” Her tone wasn’t cruel—not explicitly. But it held the kind of polite bite only someone like Rhea could manage: effortless, polished, and unmistakably dismissive.

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Конец.

⸻ Sasha gave a soft snort, somewhere between entertained and exhausted, then rolled her shoulder like she could shake off the weight of it all, just for now. ❛ Ten timezones and thirty calls? Sounds like you’re juggling flaming swords while I’m over here wrangling teething twins and tinfoil-hat phone calls. ❜ She shot him a sideways look, dry and faintly amused. ❛ Different circus, same burnout. ❜

She adjusted her stance, racket resting against her hip now, the edges of her smirk fading into something a little more real, a little softer. ❛ I don’t need perfect. Just a few minutes like this. Where it’s quiet enough to hear myself think and sore muscles mean I did something for me. ❜ A pause. ❛ Even if it’s just chasing a ball like a sleep-deprived golden retriever. ❜ A beat. ❛ Thanks for the tips, and for your borrowed time to play with me.❜

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MARGOT ROBBIE 2024 AACTA Awards

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Margot Robbie for Harper's Bazaar France.

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⸻ Truthfully, Sasha hadn’t even seen Zach. And she wasn’t sorry for what she’d done to the man on the ground. ❛ Next time, don’t just stand in the dark like a lamppost. ❜ She said matter-of-factly, as the man grumbled nearby. ❛ And you — ❜ Her tone sharpened slightly. ❛ I hope you’ve learned your lesson. When a woman says no, it means no—not yes. It’s basic vocabulary. First words I learned in America: No is no, yes is yes, and maybe is maybe. Respect people’s wishes. Don’t push boundaries. Especially not with someone whose patience is hanging by a thread. And never try to take advantage just because you’re physically bigger or stronger... Soldier. ❜ Her expression stayed unreadable, like a sphinx carved in stone. Ah, if her brother were still alive, this man would wish he’d never been born. She adjusted her dress and massaged her knuckles, that was aching and swollen; her face calm, but her silence carried weight.

zach didn't know how he got mixed up in all of this but what he did know is one minute he was counting the money he'd made from his evening to scamming rich assholes and the next, he was taken down by some man's weight. his brows furrowed, a grunt leaving his lips as he shoved the man off of him and looked up at the woman who seemed to be the reason for his demise. his eyes narrowed at the blonde, "yeah, yeah. you seem real sorry." he huffed and pushed himself off the wet asphalt. "next time, make sure you're not involving passerbys in your shit."

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Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) dir. Joel and Ethan Coen

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⸻ Sasha was just strolling with her chaotic duo and had taken a break to sit on a bench, pulling the stroller closer. Yelena was wearing a pink hat, heart-shaped sunnies, and a bikini over her diaper, while Ilya sported shark-print shorts, a little sun hat, and blue sunglasses. The older blonde had a big scoop of ice cream, which she was sharing with the twins. Her eight-month-old son got so excited that he flung his teething ring, right in the direction of a nearby woman, Zelie.

Sasha let out a deep sigh. ❛ I’m so sorry! ❜ She called, already on her feet to retrieve the ring. Behind her, the twins started calling. ' Mama! ' — their newest and favorite word, learned just two days ago. They used it now with purpose, each little voice full of expectation, because whenever they said it with that tone, it usually meant they were after something tastier than their usual milk.

@ofgrenvde

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⸻ His preferred weekend spot? Yep, she’d heard that right. Sasha took another sip of her wine, letting the warmth slide down her throat while the corner of her mouth twitched faintly. It figured. When the conversation shifted to the casino, her expression cooled slightly. There wasn’t a single day that went by without at least one client testing her patience. Unfortunately, blowing up at entitled idiots wasn’t an option; she needed the money. Her gaze drifted to Ilya, who was still gnawing fervently at his teething ring, drool catching the light on his chin. Yelena, at her side, had turned to look up at her and flashed a big, gummy grin; dimples and all. Everything she did was for them. ❛ I work at the Kang family’s casino, yeah. But I’m not part of their world. I just clock in, do what I’m paid for, and stay out of anything that doesn't have my name on it. ❜

Her eyes met his again as she added… ❛ I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been disrespected. Some trouble’s just not worth reacting to. ❜ The waiter returned with her order just then, setting down her steak and mashed potatoes. Predictably, the twins immediately reached for her plate with their tiny arms stretching in opposite directions like synchronized chaos. Yelena let out a dramatic, fake cry, Sasha didn’t even blink. ❛ Lena, you're not even crying. ❜ She murmured dryly, though her voice was warm. She scooped a tiny bit of mashed potatoes onto her finger and let each of them taste it. Both made the same expression, first confused grimaces, then delighted little smiles, their round, bald heads wobbling with approval.

Sasha shook their baby bottles, mixing the already-measured formula with the warm water she’d brought in a thermos, then handed them each a bottle. The twins latched onto them like they hadn’t eaten in days, making those soft, greedy sounds that made her chuckle under her breath. She leaned back slightly, finally able to take a bite of her own meal. ❛ Honestly? Both scenarios are awful… just different kinds of bad. ❜ She paused, eyes flicking back to Bastian thoughtfully. ❛ One of them chips away at your sense of worth, like you’re invisible unless someone wants to snap their fingers at you. The other makes you carry someone else's emotional weight like it’s your job, just because you’re paid to be nice. ❜ A beat passed. The twins were quiet now, sucking on their bottles contentedly. The restaurant’s ambient noise filled the silence, but Sasha’s attention remained on him. ❛ So no, I don’t know which is worse. Depends on the day. Depends on how much sleep I got. Depends on how many teeth these two are trying to grow all at once. ❜ Her voice softened slightly as she reached over to gently adjust Ilya’s bottle, her movements second nature. Then, with a wry glance back at Bastian: ❛ I suppose if I haven’t thrown a chair at someone yet, I’m doing okay. ❜

Bastian took a slow sip of his own drink, the waiter having delivered it while she was ordering. He set the glass down, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. Tame-she called his place tame. That was almost funnier than him choking on water. Maybe Cedric was letting things get too soft before he showed up. And now she was working at a Kang casino-of course she was. This city really was just a tangled mess of the same few names. She was in deeper than she probably realized. "Well, I'm glad to hear my preferred weekend entertainment spot isn't a complete disaster zone. Tame is probably for the best, honestly ... less paperwork for the owners, I imagine." He let a small, knowing smirk play on his lips, one she couldn't possibly understand the context for. "But a hostess at a Kang casino ... that sounds like a whole different level of complicated. I can only imagine the kind of entitled idiots who think they can just order a person around like that." 

He didn't have to imagine. He knew exactly those kinds of people. He'd collected from half of them, and their sense of entitlement was their biggest weakness. "And resisting the urge to realign some bones? That's not a miracle, that's professional-grade self-control. Most people I know wouldn't even hesitate, especially if they felt disrespected." He watched Yelena smack the cloth diaper against the table, a small smile touching his lips. "But you're right, chaos does seem to have your forwarding address. So, tell me ... what's worse? The guys who treat you like you're invisible scenery, or the ones who try to tell you their whole tragic life story over the slot machines because you're paid to be polite?" He leaned forward slightly, genuinely intrigued. "One seems insulting, the other just ... profoundly exhausting."

[sashavasilieva]

⸻ Some days, Sasha seriously considered returning to hospital work — if it weren’t for the grueling hours, she might’ve already gone back. Not that she had expected much from working at the casino. The pay was better than what she made in healthcare, and now she had two little humans depending on her ( not to mention an unhinged father lurking on the edges of her life ). She nodded politely when Rhea assured her everything was fine. ❛ Just doing my rounds. ❜ She replied, her voice still composed despite the strain tugging at her smile. ❛ I was going to offer a more private table if you wanted it, but if you're comfortable, I’ll let you be. ❜ The words came out smooth, but the muscles in her cheeks were starting to ache again. Smiling like this never felt natural — it was more armor than hospitality.

As she turned away, heading toward another table to deliver a set of dice a patron had requested earlier, a drunk man, already half-slouched over the table, saw her approaching. With a deliberate jerk of his leg, he caught her mid-step. She stumbled, crashing face-first onto the marble floor. Laughter exploded from the table behind her. Sasha clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles blanched. If she hadn’t been on the clock, he would’ve learned quickly that she wasn’t someone to mess with.

But the rules here were clear: the customer was always right, even when they were drunk, belligerent, and wrong. She silently reached for the dice that had rolled beneath a chair before pushing herself up. Her jaw tensed as she adjusted her dress, knees reddish slightly scraped, her expression unreadable despite the heat of humiliation burning in her cheeks. ' Nice fall, blondie! ' The man slurred, laughing at his own pathetic joke. ' All women fall for me. ' Sasha rolled her eyes, offering him nothing, not a word, not a smile. Just a flat stare before moving on, her spine straight and chin high, even with every eye in the room seemingly on her. The drunkards at his table were too loud to notice anything but their own noise, oblivious to the way Sasha’s patience was hanging by a thread.

She looked up briefly from the sleek marble table, a glass of barely touched wine in one hand, the other resting lightly on the arm of her client—a high-profile art dealer focused on contract papers spread before them. Her eyes met Sasha’s for a moment, cool and unreadable, with just the faintest hint of a smirk. “Everything’s fine,” she said, her voice calm but distant, clearly not in the mood for small talk. “We're not really in need of anyone 'hovering' though.” Her client caught the tone and gave a subtle nod, offering no invitation for further conversation. Rhea’s gaze slid back toward the city view, and with a quiet glance over her shoulder, she added, “also if we'd ordered something and it hadn't arrived, rest assured--your manager would've heard about it already."

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Barbie and Ken's trip to the human world

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MARGOT ROBBIE Q&A With LUCKYCHAP Producers | Pilton Palais