#Guard Dmitri

[strangerthingslover69]

Your Russian guard ~ part 1

You had landed yourself in Kamchatka with Hopper. Not the smartest move but at least you were both alive. For now anyway. After being thrown in and separated from one another you are scared and alone

~ only brief description as don’t wanna give much away ~

Almost eight months ago:

You watch as Hopper and Joyce are about to turn the keys to end this madness at Star court. That is until you hear the door open behind you. ‘Found them’ the large Russian man said with an evil smile spreading across his face. Gun pointing at you, you freeze until Hopper pushes you out the way to the ground. The gun goes off shattering the glass surrounding you. Luckily Joyce ducks in time. Hopper runs into the man knocking the gun out of his hand. They begin to fight. You make your way over to the other key and Joyce gets up ready to turn hers. You’re just about to turn when you feel your feet lift off the floor. The Russians got you up in the air by your throat, you’re gasping for air, face turning red, this is the end for you. Hopper comes up from the floor blurred eyes from being hit in the nose but acts quickly. Grabbing the man’s gun and shooting him in the shoulder. He drops you and you fall on the side of the broken glass. Hearing a crunch landing painfully on your leg. Surrounding by the broken glass. You scream in pain. You try to get up but it’s no use. Your body can not. You hear more fighting coming from above you, you start to crawl away when all of a sudden the two men fall near you. The Russian gets up first, coming quickly towards you. You crawl as fast as you can near the end of the railings but he’s quick and grabs your foot dragging back. You scream in pain as he starts to hit you in the back. Hopper coming to your aid again and hitting him in the back of the head with some loose railing making him stumble and lose balance. With all your strength you kick him with your good leg making him fall back into the machine. Hopper ducks down huddling over you as sparks fly everywhere all around. You both crawl your way back to the end of the railings. You slowly and painfully get up and see the sight before you. Sparks flying everywhere, there no escape. You look at one another wordless and reach for each others hand. You both look up and Joyce who can’t believe her eyes. Hopper nods giving her a smile. You mouth, ‘it’s okay’. Holding back the tears Joyce reaches for the other key with her belt and turns them both at the same time closing her eyes. You close your eyes ready to be met by death. ‘Not today kid. Run!’ Hopper shouts running to the edge with his hand in yours. He drags you as you scream in pain. He jumps off the edge taking you with him. The machine blows up and nothing is left. The gate is closed. Joyce opens her eyes and looks down to where you and Hopper were stood. Tears start to fall, slowly making her way down the steps. She can’t believe it. You’ve both gone. She feels someone turning her. ‘Jim? Y/N? Where’s Jim and Y/N?!’ Murray asks with panic. Joyce looks down sadly with tears rolling down her face, shaking her head. There’s no time to grieve as the Russian guards come storming in, Joyce and Murray make an escape for it. They are gone. They are safe.

You finally come round, the pain in your leg waking you. You slowly open your eyes and look around you. It’s dusty and dark but you see Hoppers body next to you. ‘Oh god. Please no’ you say crawling your way to Hopper. ‘Wake up. Wake up!’ You say shaking his shoulders. He quickly opens his eyes taking in a breath. You let out your breath. He’s alive thank god. ‘Hopper. Thank you. You, you saved me’ you say crying. He sits up and brings you in for a quick hug. ‘Let’s get out here kid.’ He says standing up. You try but scream out in pain, you can’t stand. Hopper looks down and sees your leg. Your bone is sticking out your knee. You weren’t even aware. ‘Oh shit. Okay. It’s gonna be okay.’ Hopper says reassuring to you. He rips part of the Russian uniform. ‘This is gonna hurt like hell so bite your sleeve. Okay?’ Hopper says with concern. You nod and do what he said. He wraps around your knee making a temporary cast. You bit down so hard you think you’re gonna pass out from the pain. He ties it up so it won’t come loose. Tears streaming down your checks. ‘I’m sorry. But we’ve got to go. I’m gonna lift you and carry you up the ladder. Hold on tight okay?’ Hopper says slowly so you understand. Your barely hear as the ringing is loud in your ear. Hopper bends down lifting you into his arms. Your head feels dizzy. Everything is spinning. Your eyes can’t focus on anything. They begin to close as Hopper makes his way up the ladder with you. ‘C’mon Y/N stay with me kid’ he says but it sounds all muffled. You groan in pain as you try to talk. Words fail you. As Hopper reaches the top of the ladder your both met with a group of Russian guards. They snatch you from Hopper not carrying about you knee. You scream in pain and hear Hopper shouting in the background then everything goes black

Your eyes open slowly as you adjust to the bright lights. You are in a different place. Your head still spinning. You do not know where you are. You slowly turn your head and see blurry outlines of people. As your eyes adjust you see the uniforms first. Your heart begins to beat faster as you try move you can not. You look down seeing your hands and ankles in chains on a bed. ‘Ahh look who has woken up’ a man says coming with a thick Russian accent next to you. ‘W-where?’ You stutter struggling to speak. ‘W-where? She asks. Haha!’ The men around you all burst into laughter. ‘My dear. You are in hell.’ The man says with a smile. Your eyes well up as you don’t understand. ‘No need to be sad American. We will take good care of you’ another man says approaching your right. His hand stroking your leg. You flinch at his actions. ‘G-get o-off me’ you say with utter disgust. ‘Now now that’s not very nice. We make you leg better and this is how you repay us?’ He says his hand still moving up he stops reaching your thigh giving it a squeeze. You spit on the floor next to you getting his boot. His hand quickly comes harshly to your face as he grabs it. ‘You will pay for that one’ he snarls through his teeth. Your about to respond when some doors open. ‘они хотят еe’ (they want her) another man’s says entering the room. ‘она вся твоя будь осторожна она злющая’ (she’s all yours. Be careful she’s feisty) the man says letting go of your face. ‘See you soon American’ he says with a smile leaving the room.

The new man approaches you. ‘You go now. I take you there. I’m going to unlock you but put different ones on. Any funny business and you will suffer the consequences. Understand?’ he says bluntly. His words are more clear than the other man’s. You nod. As he begins to unlock your ankles you speak. ‘W-where am I g-going?’ He ignored you and moves to the other chain. ‘I asked y-you a question.’ Still no reply. As you hear the click of your other chain being unlocked you go to kick him but he’s too quick and moves away. He’s shaking his head tutting at you. ‘Now now American. What did I say?’ He says approaching you. You stay silent. ‘Hey. Answer me.’ He says as his hand grabs your broken knee. You scream out in pain but he shuts you up by slapping you. ‘I told you there would be consequences American.’ He goes back to your feet and shackles them together in new chains. You feel tears rolling down your face as you knee throbs and your cheek burns. He unlocks a chain on you left wrist, ‘I wouldn’t pull any other shit. I was nice. The others would of been less forgiving’ he says making his way to your other wrist. He put your hands next to one another and shackles them. You stare down at your body. You never realised you were in different clothes. You can’t feel a bra anymore. Someone had took it. You look at your knee, it was in a cast but not a supportive one like you’d get at home. ‘My clothes.’ You say looking up at the man. He looks into your eyes. ‘You needed new ones. Better ones. Ones you can work in’ he stated bluntly. You look at him for a minute staring in his eyes. You don’t think you’ve seen such blue eyes on anyone before. You snap out of it when he smirks proudly before saying, ‘the guards wrestled who got your bra and panties. They were very pretty. They said they smell like a real woman.’ You feel your cheeks turning red as you look away. You think that dying would of been the better option. That’s when you realise. ‘Hopper. Where’s Hopper?!’ You say bringing your hands up pleading. ‘Alive. For now. C’mon American time to go.’ He says shoving you off the bed. ‘But I-I can’t walk. My knee.’ You say pointing down to it. He looks at it and the up at you. ‘You’ll be fine. Let’s go’ he says pulling you off the bed. Your feet landing on the floor with a thud. You feel physically sick because of the pain, the dizzy feeling coming back. The man starts to walk but you pull at his sleeve. ‘Please. I-I can’t’ you start to cry with tears running down your face. The man sighs, he takes his arm pulling you by the waist, you rest yours across his back. You both begin to walk. It still hurts but not as bad as some pressure is relived. ‘Thank you’ you say in a whisper looking up at him. He looks down and replies, ‘your lucky American. No one else would do this shit for you.’ ‘Why are you?’ You asks feeling confused. He turns always not saying a word. You stop outside a door. He gets the keys from his belt and unlocks the door. ‘Welcome to your new home American’ he says pushing you in. You land and scream in pain. He doesn’t say anything just closes and locks the door behind you. You were alone, scared and didn’t know what was to come. You preyed Hopper would be okay. You preyed you would be okay. This was only the beginning of hell

[lucystark12]

they did this for me btw

[hawkinsincorrect]

Joyce: What’re you drinking, Hop?

Hopper: Vodka.

Joyce: Straight?

Hopper: Not really.

Joyce:

Hopper:

Dmitri:

Hopper: Oh, you meant the vodka?

[flamingredanon]

Small chibi doodle of Dmitri and Misha as gems again (Misha is a Baroque Pearl and Dmitri a Blue Lace Agate)

[wanderingmind867]

The Union of Soviet Super Soldiers (USSS):

It's 1976 or 1977. At least 12 years since the avengers were founded in the US. The Soviet Union is desperate to create their own superhero team to rival the avengers. They've tried to create figures like the Red Guardian, or the Crimson Dynamo or Titanium Man before, but it always fails. But perhaps it's because they never assembled a proper team? That's the logic that leads to the creation of the Union of Soviet Super Soldiers (Or USSS for short) in 1976 or 1977.

Founded in July 1976, the original team consists of:

Red Guardian III (Vladimir Ivanov): I already have a whole note on him. But he's the team leader, and one of the members of the team most devoted to Communism.

Vanguard (Nikolai Krylenko): He's a real comics character. I'm pretty sure you can find info on him through a Marvel Wiki or through Google (that's how I learned of him).

The Winter Witch (Katerina Obolensky): Abandoned as a child in the snowy mountains of Siberia, Katerina Obolensky learned to be one with the ice and snow. Nobody is sure if she's a mutant or some kind of demigod, but she is definitely powerful. Capable of controlling the ice, snow and winds at a single thought. She can generate winds, blizzards, avalanches, etc. When in her natural element she is a god amongst men. But when she's far separated from any form of cold, she becomes weak and frail.

The Gift-Bringer (Adrian Abel): Adrian Abel is a mutant. Born with the uncanny ability to control poison and even generate it (they can turn their whole body into poison dust or into liquid poison, for instance), they were considered a threat to others and sent off to an elite mutant training facility in Russia. There, they learned how to control their powers and make themselves less dangerous to others. Worst comes to worst, they were at least given a containment suit to prevent them from accidentally killing anyone with their poison.

Considering how powerful they are, it's only natural Adrian was recruited to the USSS. They're both powerful and extremely volatile, however. So they possibly be the most dangerous person on the team. So they require extreme protective measures to ensure they don't accidentally poison the people they're trying to help.

PS: Adrian is the only character not originally from the USSR. They're East German. I realized the German word for poison is gift due to google translate, and so I couldn't resist this bit of humour.

Crimson Dynamo (Dmitri Bukharin): Same as Vanguard. The Crimson Dynamo (including this version of him) is a real comics character who can find out more about through Google or a Marvel Wiki or something.

If you're wondering where in the timeline of comics this is supposed to be, it's shortly after Darkstar defects to the US to join The Champions. And she will join this team eventually, if someone (either me or literally anyone else) takes this idea past the concept stage.

[starjones-on-ao3]

True photo from the grocery of fictional Kyrzran

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

Let’s talk about Dante’s outfit

So basically, I had an idea that I just wanted to put out there

dante’s outfit is the guard academy training uniform

the fact that he’s still wearing it shows just how young he is. (19) he’s actually been using it as his ‘armor’ since he left the academy at 16, but has been hopping from village to village for the past 3 years.

It’s not very functional as actual armor. It’s not meant to be. It’s intended so that once a guard finds their village, it will be replaced by the villages armor.

The shirt represents his rank in the academy.

Each rank has a color;

Purple: Top rank. Jury worthy. This guy is insanely good. On the waiting list.

Blue: Top, non jury related, rank. These guys will generally become your village head guard.

Green: Second top rank. Second in command.

Orange: Middle rank. Majority trainees fall under this category and stay here.

Red: Bottom rank. This guy is dog shit, needs a lot of work.

White: Fresh meat. Haven’t been here long enough to move up a color. Give ‘em hell, see if they stick around.

Think of the colors like belts in karate, when you move up a skill level, you gain a new tunic color.

————————————————————————————

Dante actually finished with a purple tunic, but switched it to blue before leaving. He didn’t want the extra attention. He also tried to scratch his name off of the jury waiting list but it has binding magicks placed upon it, so he was unsuccessful.

————————————————————————————

Now for some… Who finished training with what color!!!

Laurance and Garroth both finished with purple.

Zenix never actually went to guard academy, said he finished with red. (he didn’t know what he was saying)

Katelyn also obviously finished with purple.

Gene finished with blue, as did Sasha.

Dale finished with blue, but it was almost green. He gained blue last second.

Brian finished with orange, much to Dale’s disappointment.

Azura finished with blue.

Alexis finished with green.

Kyle finished with orange.

And Dmitri and Ninette probably both would’ve finished with blue or purple.

[gonedreaminggg]

i am craving disability representation in mcd and mystreet 😭

here i go!

my disability headcanons for MCD/MYS

- Laurance never got his vision back. Not completely, at least. The outer field of his vision is completely blurred, and sometimes it'll randomly get worse/better. In MyS, he's still mostly blind, but he was born with this. It honestly doesn't make a difference in his day to day life because he's so used to it, but he's so pissed that he can't drive.

- Dante has OCD, and he passed the trait down to Dmitri. They both have skin-picking issues as well.

- Naoki (Nekoette) has hyperactive ADHD, which she got from Nana. A lot of people think it's really funny, but when Naoki starts training as a guard, she and other people finally realize how challenging it is.

- Zoey's health starts deteriorating rapidly after giving up her immortality. She has chronic pain issues, and recurring migraines.

- Both MCD and Mystreet Katelyn are hella deaf. Like. Cannot hear for shit. In MyS she wears hearing aids sometimes, but in MCD she's like "WHA?" constantly.

- MyS Vylad is an ambulatory wheelchair user. (honestly i'm just self-inserting for this one lol) they have Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, and use a cane most of the time. They're very active on social media and are a popular disability advocate. It's why they're constantly traveling.

- All of the Ro'meave brothers are hella autistic

- Travis has a lot of chronic fatigue issues because of his demon form and powers and whatnot. When Aphmau gets her relic, and Garroth gets Esmund's, they also have chronic fatigue. The relics are too much energy for a mortal body.

- Levin has hella anxiety. Zoey and Malachai taught him how to manage it over the years. When he becomes Lord, the intensity of the job honestly makes him less focused on his anxieties.

- Malachai still can't function properly as a human. After being brought back to life, he's had a lot of chronic issues, that are honestly all over the place. He also has really bad dissociation, because he was DEAD FOR 900 YEARS.

[obsidiangravity]

Nikto Gets A Cat

I saw this lovely artwork by @quimera-cami and it possessed me to drop all other WIP to write this.

Summary - Spetsnaz are tasked with guarding a remote location. Can’t ask for a simpler operation really. The only downside for Nikto is having to endure the stifling presence of his teammates. Maintaining what’s left of his sanity in such a tiny house is an exhausting challenge, but at least they all get their own sleeping quarters.

Until Rodion returns from a weekly grocery run with a companion.

Word count - 3.9k

Tags - Fluff, Alcohol, Nikto being nice.

It’s no secret to the closest people in Nikto’s life that he despises cats.

The incessant calls for attention. The hair that seems to overrun everything one owns. Their need to mark and ruin upholstery. His disdain for those common house pets are seen as irrational. Perhaps it's a childhood trauma long forgotten, the unsavoury memories regarding these animals locked away in the dark corners of his mind.

But he disagrees. The extreme hatred is warranted. How could it not? What do they provide other than misery and annoyance. He’s grateful to have been spared the torment of living around one since he joined the military over a decade ago.

So the man is rendered temporarily speechless and imobile when Rodion calls out from behind him on the armchair, “Look at what I found outside the supermarket!” and five kilograms of hissing fluff and fury is dumped on his thighs. 

The feline snarls and bares its teeth at the person that dropped it. Long razor-sharp claws dig into Nikto’s flight suit, poking his skin.

He winces, gaze narrowing at the youngest Russian. “What the fuck is this?”

“Mm, it’s a cat,” Rodion mumbles over a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie as he searches for the TV remote and brushes stray crumbs onto the ground. It makes Nikto’s fingers twitch. “Siberian I think?”

Dmitry looks up from his task of chopping potatoes in the scantily sized kitchen, amusement ghosting the corner of his eyes. “Oh, it could be, but they are usually a little bigger, no?”

The cat, in a blur of unruly fur, launches itself off Nikto's lap, nails screeching and scraping the wooden floorboards as it skitters across like one of those rats caught out in the light in this shithole of a house. In a second, the creature vanishes behind a doorway to a bedroom. The one belonging to Maxim.

Rodion clucks his tongue. “Well, someone tell Maxim he has a new roommate when he’s back from patrol.”

An acidic scowl is hidden behind his balaclava when Nikto notices the strands of hair and filth left on his uniform. “Are you soft in the head? Why did you bring it here?”

“Saw her scavenging in the garbage as I was about to return. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“Get rid of it, or I will shoot it.” His voice low and coarse. It is the only response Nikto gives before he stands up, readying to leave for a shift change with Maxim.

Nikto returns twelve hours later after a quiet night, slips out of his worn leather boots to find his single bed occupied.

The feline saw fit to curl up on it and rub dirt on his clean white blankets and pillows. Of course it would be in here, his room is the only empty one.

He’s able to get a better look at it as it sleeps. Dust clings to its matted and tangled cream-coloured fur. Its scrawny figure and ribs are barely concealed by its thick coat. Thin, elegant, almost silver whiskers a contrast to the extremely bushy unkempt tail.

Three small lines of scar run from its right cheek to its velvet-like ear. This is no pampered house pet, it may have been once, however those times were long gone.

He lightly shoos the cat away. It startles from peaceful sleep and hisses, tries to gouge his hand with the tiny daggers on its fingertips, but ultimately scampers off and hides under the bed.

Nikto sighs, long and drawn out. Questioning if he should bother using the back of his rifle like a stick to force it out of his room. He reaches for it, then decides it’s not worth potentially hurting himself from an accidental discharge.

He flips the switch off and collapses on the mattress.

~~~

He wakes up before everyone else again, the sun heating his face through the dusty window. Nikto blinks against the early morning rays and stretches his stiff muscles with a content groan. His toes collide with something furry and soft, and that brief moment of peaceful serenity is disrupted by a sharp scratch to his bare calf.

The half asleep man jerks away from the sting — accidently rolling off the bed. A shoulder and knee takes the full brunt of the fall and the greater pain jolts him fully awake, a “Blyat,” escaping his scarred lips.

The feral animal dashes around the small room, emerald eyes wide, fangs showing and claws unsheath. It howls and arches its back as it realises its trapped between the closed door and him.

Nikto scrambles to his feet, swearing a string of colourful curses that echo against the concrete walls. His jaw tightens. He wonders if he can turn the doorknob to kick it outside without being inflicted with any more injuries.

Goosebumps form on his arms when a deep rumble emits from it, as if it’s charging up an attack. He eyes the AK-47 propped against the wall on the other side of the room. Of course the one time he leaves a firearm out of reach is when he needs it most.

Tentatively, he takes a step forward and in a whirlwind, the infernal creature resumes its frantic scrambling.

It throws itself up onto the bed, rumpling the messy sheets further and jumps on his nightstand. In its rampage of destruction, it knocks the full bottle of vodka over.

It shatters loudly on the oak floor. Large and tiny shards of glass scatter in all directions as the liquid seeps through the planks.

Nikto, who is usually able to repress his anger and known for his stoic composure, lets his vision go red and a roar of unrestrained rage erupts.

He will gut this mangy stray then dump its entrails on Rodion for putting him through this. He has done far worse for less.

The bedroom door creaks open and Devil Incarnate finally dashes out.

A dishevelled Maxim peeks his head and a broad shoulder in, sleep clouding his eyes. “Can you not make so much fucking noise this early?” Then his gaze shifts to the spilled alcohol and groans. “You’re not wasting anymore of the vodka again,” he says and slams the door shut with a resounding thud before Nikto could redirect his fury at him.

He is left to simmer in the aftermath and he swears to drag Rodion’s face across the broken glass if that imbecile doesn’t clean this up.

~~~

It seems an illness has overtaken his comrades.

With its fur clean and brushed, they dote on the cat at every chance it decides to show itself. Regal grace that laid beneath the grime is now allowed to shine. It moves with the arrogance that all cats possess as it struts around the house.

“Oh, what a cute kitten.”

“Look at its shiny gemstone eyes! What a pretty girl.”

Running their fingers through the fur as they coo and play with it. All three of them mull over what to name it. As if it’s a newborn baby and they’re first time parents.

“How about Mishka?” Dmitry asks as he strokes its back. “Look at its silky coat! Nikto, you have to feel this.”

Maxim scratches his stubble. “I prefer Nina.”

“Satan,” Nikto offers, gaze not leaving his book.

“It’s a girl,” Rodion’s faraway voice interjects from the bedroom.

“Baba Yaga.”

“Doesn’t really suit her… Princess?” Maxim suggests.

Nikto flicks to the next page. “Gluttony.”

“I think Anastasia fits this beauty.”

“Garbage Eater.”

That night, he pulls the covers over him with the feline nowhere in sight.

But dawn finds that yet again the whiskered intruder found its way onto the bed near his feet.

Less scratching and hissing this time. He’s able to expel it with only an attempted swat at his arm and minimal destruction. No caterwauls of wildness, or pointed teeth and claws tearing at his blankets thankfully.

~~~

They take pictures and record videos of the nuisance doing the most inane drivel and send them to each other, including Nikto. As if he can’t see the damned cat himself. At this rate, they would probably snap an image of its excrements and praise it for defecating outside by the end of the week.

The cat takes the greatest liking to Dmitry. It’s no mystery why. Twirling about his legs for food at all hours of the day that it’s not sleeping.

And the meowing.

It doesn’t shut up. Always whining, always mewling. Like an alarm siren demanding more and more meals.

The short period where it is not doing that, usually when one of the Bale brothers has the little gremlin on their lap, massaging the soft fur around its ears  — it purrs loudly. Impeccably imitating a broken lawnmower.

Nikto has no trouble tolerating most discomforts — the filthiness of a barracks, the lack of sleep during a long operation, numbness from the biting cold of Russian winters. He would endure all of it again over this.

Nobody else seems to be agitated by it. Madness has infected everyone but him. No longer can Nikto read a book or relax with a good bottle of vodka in peace. He enjoyed his lone shifts a little more than the rest of the team before. Solitude is always freeing. 

Now, it’s his only solace for true rest.

His equipment, his bed, the whole house, is filled with stray strands of fur. Irritating his nostrils and ruining his clothes. He briefly considers murdering the cat and the idiot that brought it home when he finds a nonhuman hair in his half eaten soup.

The last straw that solidifies their insanity to him is when the living embodiment of chaos vomits a wet furball on the sofa.

They will throw the cat out now for sure. Nikto has no doubts about it.

Except, that does not happen.

They did not throw the cat out.

They mutter words of comfort and pat it on the back, cleans up the mess and offers it a treat.

Nikto occasionally catches the feline watching him from some dimly lit corner. A spark of intelligence in its big round eyes. As if it secretly taunts him, before prowling away.

The following night, he scours his room, getting on all fours to check under his creaking bed frame. His bloodshot eyes strains against the darkness and finds only dust bunnies. No furry form with a demonic glint in its jade irises. Satisfied, he switches off the light and crawls in, the chill of the night seeps through the small crack in the window.

Yet, come morning, the relentless animal inhabits his sheets, purring with satisfaction.

It amazes him that it is able to burrow up so close as he slept again — with him being none the wiser, considering how much of a light sleeper he is. Nikto makes a mental note to seal the window. Clearly the sliver of opening for fresh air is too much to ask for.

He lets out a bone weary sigh, running a hand over his scarred face and rubs his temple. It can stay for now.

It’s not being overtly infuriating. It barely takes up any space. The man observes its sleek fur shining almost golden in the sunlight. Is it as soft as they all say it is?

He reaches for it, his fingers lightly brushes its tail and it lets out a groan of discontent, hopping off the bed, onto the windowsill. It slinks away, landing on the bushes outside.

Nikto watches the raised fluffy tail disappear past the treeline and he pushes the pane fully shut with a resounding snap for tonight.

“She’s nearly done with her moult,” Dmitry comments as he sweeps the tumbleweeds of fur out the front door. There are clumps of it stuck on foliage, mixing with the twigs and leaves.

It’s visually revolting.

When asked why he doesn't simply throw it in the trash, Dmitry says it makes the birds happy to use it for their nests. 

Birds don’t nest this close to winter, you moron. Nikto would have loved to retort, only, he realises he doesn’t have the energy for it anymore.

The one upside to the neverending mountain of inconveniences is there seems to be a decrease of rat sightings inside. Perhaps, it’s not as lazy as Nikto originally thought.

He scowls at the empty packet of potato chips left by Rodion on the coffee table. The cat is now far from being the most useless individual in the house.

He lies awake in his bed, watching the shadows of the tree branch right outside his window dance on the wall as the wind jostles it. Sleep has trouble taking him like most days.

As he is about to drift into unconsciousness, an ear grating yowl echoes in the living room through the walls, loud enough to wake the dead.

Nikto huffs and rolls onto his stomach.

It continues. The sounds of the kitchen’s trash can being rummaged and the occasional meow of discontent prevents him from dozing off.

He’s determined to ignore it, maybe yell at someone else to feed it but realises it’s probably useless. Dmitry can sleep through a bombing. Maxim is likely comatose from drinking and nothing less than a gunshot will wake him.

He sits up, fingers reaching for his balaclava, fully intending to throw some biscuits in its food bowl so it can leave him alone.

The moment he pries open the door, the feline sprints in and beelines underneath his mattress.

Nikto narrows his eyes, tired brain is slow to process what exactly occurred. A defeated exhale leaves his lips and pushes his door shut, returning to bed.

He has grown to expect the cat to claim the territory beside his left foot and is careful not to nudge it come morning.

~~~

Frantic scratching on worn oak is like fingernails on a chalkboard, agitating Nikto's taut nerves. It wasn't just the sound, but the urgency behind it.

He’s not the only person home, someone else can let it out.

He tries to ignore it and focus on his task. Cleaning firearms is a silent and soothing experience. It helps to clear his mind when he needs it most.

The scraping intensifies.

Nikto unclenches his jaw — gently places down the bolt carrier and oil stained cloth, and stands up.

Boots thudding on the floor as he marches to the source of the noise. 

The cat paws at the front door and wails. Wanting to be let out. It looks at Nikto as he turns the corner. Its face saying, please I need to leave.

I need to leave right now.

He unlatches the steel lock and pulls the door open. The feline hesitates, its miniature nose twitching, testing the cool air and the scents wafting in.

Frosty blue irises flash in anger. “You wanted to leave? Then go!” His free hand gestures to the open space outside.

Seconds stretch into a minute.

It stands there. Peering outside. Then, with a flick of its tail, turns and walks away, returning to its favourite spot on the kitchen counter by the window.

Nikto watches it, a mixture of confusion and realisation settling in his chest. It gives him a side eye that speaks volumes before it lays down and gazes out the glass.

He had served this creature. Catered to her whims. Ungratefulness aside, he feels used.

~~~

Nikto leaves for his shift just like any other night. Familiar weight of his rifle in one hand. Vodka in the other. Stars glittering in the sky.

He settles down at his usual spot in the outpost overlooking the area he’s meant to guard. As he’s about to peel back the fabric of his mask to take a sip, a crunch of dry leaves alerts him to a presence not too far from his left.

Drink forgotten, muscle memory and instincts take over, he raises his gun in the direction of the intruder. Two glowing orbs look back at him, and then an inquisitive meow.

Low and behold, it’s Garbage Eater.

Exasperation washes over him. He lowers his firearm and stares at it.

The cat saunters up to his feet, rubbing its face on his boots.

Nikto silently grieves his allotted hours of privacy robbed away and sits back down. How did it even follow him? He was not as alert as he usually is compared during a mission, but for it to have not been detected since he left the house is a feat.

Surprisingly, it keeps a respectable distance. Choosing to lick its hand an arms length away.

He finally gives in. The Russian reaches out to run a hand over its back. A throaty groan of protest erupts.

Nikto stops. Fair enough. He doesn’t like being touched either.

As the night deepens, he offers little bits of chicken from his food container while they sit in tranquil company together. He will never admit to it if asked, but the presence of decent companionship is something he craves. Dmitry is pleasant and respectful, however he can be a little too worried more often than not. That man is not subtle. Nikto catches every glance of concern, every time his lips pull into a hard line.

Animals don’t do that. They don’t have any questions of his mental state barely held back on the tips of their tongues.

Sometimes when it gets too quiet, his thoughts can be overwhelming. Fragmented memories from his past come slithering back. Lately, he has been unable to keep them at bay.

Every now and then, a new door opens, and he often doesn’t like what comes out of it.

Maybe it senses his mood, or maybe it’s just cold, it inches closer to sit beside him for the remainder of the shift. Its green eyes full of concern.

When they return to the house together, the cat doesn’t have to sneak into his bedroom.

~~~

Tiny gifts in the form of dead rats are deposited in his quarters every so often. He could dispose of it normally, but he throws them into Rodion’s room. It grants Nikto a small bit of satisfaction whenever a screech of disgust sounds throughout the house, usually after that man returns from his shift.

A week passes and Nikto wakes up with a feather duster-like object in his face.

It seems that the cat, perhaps emboldened in the darkness, gained some courage and moved upwards long past midnight. She sneaked up close beside his chest as he was sleeping. Her padded foot, soft and warm, rests against his bicep with an easy pressure, tail tickling his cheeks.

She had stuck to the end of his mattress every day before this.

Her forehead nudges his hand, seeking contact, and she rubs her long whiskers against his open palm.

Sundown arrives sooner, the days grow colder and Nikto quickly discovers she likes to be squashed by his arm.

The cat blinks and carefully leaps over him to situate herself in the small space between him and the wall. She sniffs Nikto’s hand curiously and rubs her cheeks against it before rolling into a ball. He buries his fingers into her soft fur and closes his eyelids.

He knows she only pursues his company for his warmth. He doesn’t mind it. His nail traces patterns in her coat and she stretches languidly. Maybe it's not just her seeking him. Maybe he craves the physical touch too.

It has been too long, he realises, since he has hugged another living thing. To feel the pulsing of a heartbeat against his fingertips. It is not so bad afterall.

The even vibration of her purrs lulls him to a dreamless slumber.

He hears the rhythmic clacking of claws on the hardwood floor before the cat jumps onto the armrest. She puts a gentle paw on Nikto’s forearm and meows.

Nikto hums, the words of his fantasy novel momentarily blurring. “What do you need this time?” he grumbles.

Everyone else left ten minutes ago, a rarity. He has plans to finish this book today.

Unfazed by his hollow annoyance, she steps onto his lap and does a few circles before settling down.

He shifts in his chair, trying to find a position that’s more comfortable for them both. “I’m reading a story, do you want to hear it?”

She looks at him knowingly and yawns. Nikto clears his throat, he begins reading with a soft voice that feels unfamiliar, it has been a long time since he last used this tone.

At some point, her eyes drift close and her breathing deepens, yet he continues.

Nikto couldn't help but see the similarities they share. They both exude an independence born out of necessity. He runs a calloused thumb over her old scars. They’re both survivors. No other person he met has understood it truly. Though with the way she regards him, the reserved man thinks she might.

~~~

Nikto takes the last bottle of Five Lakes on a hunt with him before Maxim could — he can have whatever slop is left.

It’s been years since he had hunted, nevertheless, he still remembers how to track deer and rabbits.

Gloved hand securely clutching the cool glass, he ventures further east.

People argue that vodka isn't for taste. Nikto disagrees. 

He values the smooth, barely detectable flavour, a welcomed change to the generic liquor he usually endured on duty. To him, the subtle burn is appreciated. He doesn’t think his alcoholic comrade can tell the difference.

It’s not that he can’t handle the harsh taste, he would simply rather get drunk with a minimal amount of hangover.

He’s not surprised when he hears the rustle of grass and the well-accustomed to call of his four legged companion behind him after he crouches down to inspect the gnawed on vegetation.

She trots up, her sleek form brushing against his thighs and investigates the leaves, sniffing it with a delicate nose.

“Can you hunt rabbits as well as rats?”

She flicks a ear and chirps in response.

Nikto takes that as a yes.

Undeterred by the distant rumble of thunder above, they proceed further, the sparse canopy offers little protection as tiny droplets soon begin to rain down upon them.

Eventually, the soil grows too damp for her liking and she tries scaling up his leg, tips of her claws latching on to his thigh muscle through the thick fabric.

She advances quickly, her pointed nails has no trouble finding purchase on the straps and gear tied to him. Nikto hisses and grips her to his chest with his forearm before she can make it any higher.

She calms instantly, feeling secured in his solid hold.

The mild drizzle subsides quickly, leaving the forest dripping and smelling of fresh earth. However the once stray Siberian forest cat has no desire to return to the damp ground.

He purses his lips and takes a deep breath. “Fine.”

He can’t use his hunting rifle with one hand and he refuses to let her on his shoulders. Daylight is about to leave anyway. Won’t be a terrible decision to return.

As the sun dips below the horizon, dousing the hills with the warm colour of fire, Nikto observes the sky and settles on the grass, Garbage Eater curling up on his lap in content silence — he thinks that having a pet cat isn’t the worst thing in the world.

[thepaleys]

In 1905 Pavel's new happiness was shaken by the news that Sergei had been assassinated in Moscow. The Tsar gave him permission to attend the funeral, alone, restoring to him the rank of lieutenant general, and he travelled to Russia with a package Sergei had given him thirteen years earlier, to be opened in the event of his death. It was found to contain the uniform of the Preobrajensky Guard in which Sergei wanted to be buried, but the terrorist's bomb had done so much damage to the body that it was impossible to do as he asked. Pavel's return to Russia could not help but be uncomfortable and distressing for all concerned. Dmitri was afraid that his father would take him away, and clung to Elisabeth. She could not forgive Pavel for all that had happened, and for him, the death of a favourite brother at a time when they were estranged was a thought too painful to recall. There could be no reconciliation and no hope of renewed friendship. The past was gone, and for the rest of his life Pavel would never speak willingly of his childhood.

Romanov Autumn - Charlotte Zeepvat

"Our family life was extremely happy, but he missed his country. He rarely talked about Russia, and even less about his family memories, in front of us children. But one evening at dinner, my sister (Natalie) and I got a bit carried away and asked him about it. He happily told us about his games with his brother Serge [...]. A miniature harbour had been built for them on the little canal in the Imperial Park. Then he became sad, no doubt thinking of the tragic death of his father and brother. Having seen the result of our curiosity, we never asked him again about his childhood."

Irina Paley quoted in the book "Natalie Paley - Princess en Exil" by Jean-Noel Liaut

[strangerthingslover69]

Your Russian Guard ~ part 2

Warnings ~ swearing, some nudity and attempted harm ~

You are awoken by the sound of your door opening. From all the events that had occurred the last forty eight hours you were grateful you managed to get sleep, you don’t know how much but at least it was some. You open your eyes as you see a guard entering walking towards you. ‘Morning American. Doctors told me to make sure you take these’ he hands you some tablets and a cup of water. It’s the same blue eyed man who was cruel but kind to you yesterday. You sit up slowly from your so called bed and look up at him. ‘What are they?’ You ask looking at the tablets. ‘Just take them. If you want that leg to get better.’ He sighs at you putting them in your hand. Reluctantly you take the tablets and water. Popping them into your mouth and gulping them down with water. ‘Open’ he points to your mouth. You open your mouth confused. ‘Ahh so she does follow instructions quite well. Good girl’ he says leaning down looking into your mouth. There’s something about the way he says ‘good girl’ it makes you feel something. ‘Have to check you did take the medication.’ He says standing back up straight. ‘They must be feeling very nice today American. They say you can shower. Follow me’ he says walking towards the door. You try to stand but as soon as any pressure hits your leg it’s too much. You really are trying, you slowly and agonising take small steps towards the guard. You can tell he’s getting impatient with you as he sighs. ‘I-I’m sorry. I’m trying’ you say in a small voice. He walks over to you and hooks his arm around your waist. Just like yesterday. ‘You are very lucky I am so nice American’ he says as you both walk out of your cell. It’s bright as you walk along to where ever the shower was. You walked past many guards and prisoners. Most calling something at you in Russian or wolf whistling. ‘Ignore them American. Most have not seen a pretty woman in a long time.’ He says as you go down another corridor. Did he just call me pretty? You think to yourself. Your about to speak when another guard stops in front of you. ‘Well well well. Hello my feisty American. You been behaving for Antonov here?’ He says bringing his hand to stroke your cheek, you move away. It’s the same creep as yesterday, the one who kept touching your thigh. ‘She’s been fine. They letting her shower so were on our way now’ the man replies who you know as Antonov now. ‘повезло ублюдок, нужна помощь с ней?’ (lucky motherfucker, need any help with her?) the creepy guard replies looking you up and down in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable. You don’t mean to but you grip tighter on Antonov’s waist. ‘извините, они хотят, чтобы я позаботился о ней, вы нужны для нашего другого американского друга’ (Sorry they want me to take care of her, they need you for our other American friend) Antonov replies. You wish you could understand what they were saying. The other guard grunts, ‘Shame. I could have helped you in the shower pretty one’ his eyes scanning your body up and down. ‘At least I can go see your American friend. Bye bye for now’ he says shoving past you making you lose your balance almost. ‘He’s going to Hopper? Is he okay?’ You ask with pleading eyes up at Antonov. ‘Come American. You need shower’ Antonov replies starting to pull you with them. ‘No! I need to know about Hopper, please!’ You say turning towards him, your hands coming up to his chest. ‘Please, j-just tell me he’s okay’ you start sobbing at him.

Dmitri feels conflicted. Here a young woman crying frantically in front of him wanting to know if her American friend is okay. He doesn’t like to see any woman cry. But you are the enemy. You have to be. He listens to your pleads and sees the sadness in your eyes. Other guards turning to see the commotion. ‘You need to stop, you are going to get me in trouble’ he replies in hushed tones. ‘Then tell me if Hopper is okay!’ You shriek at him. Probably not the best idea to lose your temper at a Russian guard stuck in a Russian prison. One of the guards is making their way over to you both. Dmitri spots him and his demeanour changes. Grabbing your chains around your wrists and yanking them so your hands will drop. He drags you to the showers by your chains. Making you fall over, he’s dragging you across the floor. You scream for him to stop as it sends pain all over your body but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop till you’re in the shower block. Still with chains in hand he lifts you from the ground. ‘American I told you to stop. You are going to get us both killed. Your friend is okay and alive. Now time for shower.’ You nod thankfully to him, he could get into serious trouble you never thought about consequences for him. You turn and walk to the shower, stopping in front of it. No curtain, no privacy. You turn around and see him facing away from you, you can’t help but smile at his kind actions. ‘Antonov?’ You say in a small voice, he turns his body and faces you. ‘H-how do I shower? I’m a bit stuck?’ You jest towards your chains. ‘дерьмо’ (shit) he mumbles to himself. He slowly approaches you. ‘I am not allowed to undo your chains. That can get me into serious trouble. Another guard was foolish enough to do the same and the prisoner ended up using them as weapons, broke the man’s nose. There are no women working here. So I can help you or I can get another-‘ you cut him off before he continues. ‘No! No other guards. There all pervs. C-can you please help?’ ‘Of course, I will unbutton your top first, if that’s okay?’ He asks looking at you for permission. You nod looking away, it was awkward enough already without making eye contact. You can’t believe this is what your life has come to. Unable to take your own clothes off for a shower. Having a stranger do it for you, the enemy. But you’d rather him than any other guards. You feel Antonov fingers starting to unbutton from the top to the bottom of your shirt, brushing your skin. As each button is undone your heart races a little quicker each time as you realise your going to be bare in front of him. He reaches the last button and you wait for him to move your shirt down, he doesn’t. ‘Trousers next, can you do them?’ He asks looking at you. You finally turn and see a difference if his face. It’s more of a kind face than earlier. The deep blue eyes with little wrinkles around, his soft features resting around them, full pink lips that sit a small moustache above them. It catches you off guard how pretty this man is, you don’t realise you’ve not answered yet. You clear your throat and reply, ‘I can do it.’ He nods and turns around, you start to reach down to pull down your trousers.

‘Well hello there American, looks like I’ve come at the right time’ the creepy guard is back. He walks over to you but is stopped by Antonov. ‘давай оставь ее в покое’ (let’s leave her alone). ‘в одиночестве? почему? мы пропустили бы шоу’ (Alone? Why? We would miss the show) the guard responds in a suggestive tone. He shoves Antonov to the side and makes his way over to you. ‘Antonov may be too much of a pussy to see you. But I am not. Let’s see what you’re hiding under here pretty.’ He says as he starts to pull your shirt off your shoulders. ‘You are beautiful’ he states as he stares at your bare chest, you try to giver yourself but he smacks your hands away. He rips your blouse off you and throws it on the floor. ‘Perfect. Now let’s get rid of these-‘ he says reaching for your waistband of your trousers, he starts to pull them down but is stopped. достаточно! тебе может нравиться пугать женщин, но мне нет. если ты не хочешь, чтобы Иван услышал об этом, я предлагаю тебе отвалить!’ (Enough! You may enjoy scaring women but I do not. Unless you want Ivan to hear about this fuck off!) Antonov shouts at the man. ‘Мудак. я оставлю ее. на данный момент. ты не всегда можешь быть здесь, чтобы защитить ее’ (Asshole! I will leave her. For now. You can’t always be here to protect her) the man replies to Antonov looking even more annoyed. He turns back to you staring at your bare chest. ‘You got lucky this time American’ he snarls before exiting the shower room.

You stand there speechless and half naked. Antonov comes over to you, ‘I’m sorry American. He’s a real pig.’ You are frozen, you can not move. You are slowly realising this is your new life. Being degraded and looked at like some kind of sex doll or object. ‘American?’ Antonov’s hand moves to your shoulder. You are brought back into the room by his warm touch making you flinch. You look up into his eyes. They are so different to the others. Not scary. Not mean. Right now they look sad. ‘I-I can’t believe this is it. I-I’m stuck here. All alone surrounded by pig men. My best friend is all alone. I-I can’t do this. I-I’ you completely break down. Tears pour down your face. ‘I-I just wanted the gate closed. I-I just wanted a normal life’ you sink down to the floor on your knees only to remember the pain in it, you fall into your side in a crying mess.

Shit. What do I do? Antonov thinks to himself, he’s never had to deal with anything like this before. It’s always been men. Pathetic men who do not deserve anything more than here. But you. You were fragile. This wasn’t a place for you. He didn’t understand what you were talking about with the gate but he ignored that. You were making him feel terrible about being here. He wanted you out. He wanted you never to of come. He leans down next to you and scoops you into this arms, you silently cry as he lifts you towards the showers. He puts you down carefully so you’re sitting directly under the shower. You don’t look at him once. He shouldn’t be doing this but his actions are too quick. He reaches for his key to your chains and unlocks them. Leaving only one arm and one ankle still chained. ‘American’ he lifts your chin up to look at him. You don’t flinch at his touch, his hands around rough but gentle. ‘Shower, I will wait over here and make sure no one else interrupts you. Okay?’ He tells you in a sincere tone. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand and nod. ‘Thank you Antonov’ you say in a whisper. ‘Dmitri. You can call me Dmitri he says with a warm smile. ‘Y/N. Not American’ you say with a smile back. He nods and gets up turning around blocking the entrance. You use the wall to help you back up. You are able to take off your trousers and knickers and stand under the fairly warm shower. It feels like a breath of fresh air on your skin. It makes you feel somewhat better. Next to the shower is some soap. You wash your hair and body throughly. You look over at Dmitri who is still stood facing away from you. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Maybe he wasn’t the enemy. Maybe he was one of the good ones, if that’s possible? You look down at your almost free body, you see it covered it marks and bruises everywhere. You knee still healing slowly in the cast. You could run. Well you could try. Most likely to be killed in the process. There was no escape even if you were partly free. The thoughts soon leave your head as you hear Dmitri’s voice. ‘There’s towels in the cupboard and fresh clothes. When your done I will put your chains back on and the doctors will look your leg over.’ ‘Okay, thank you’ you say turning of the shower. You walk to the cupboard and grab a towel quickly drying yourself as you feel the cold. All dry you put on the oversized clothes. ‘I’m all done’ you say and Dmitri turns back, walking back over to chain you back up. You put your wrists together so he can lock them back together. You watch as he turns the lock and bends down to do the same for your feet. ‘Thank you Dmitri’ you say looking down at him. He clicks the lock into place and locks them back up, your chest pressed against each other. He looks down on you as his height is much greater than yours. ‘It stays our secret though. Okay Y/N?’ He asks, you can’t help but get butterflies hearing him say your name. ‘Okay’ you say smiling at him. He returns the smile and you stay that way for a little while before leaving to see the doctor. He helps you walk again, arm round your waist almost seeming to be holding on more tightly than before. You can help but look up at him occasionally. You knew it was wrong. You knew he was the enemy. You knew what Hopper would say. But you mind and your heart knew how you were feeling. For the first time since being here you felt safe. You didn’t feel alone. You almost in a weird way felt some form of happiness. What an earth was happening to you? You knew that to but were to afraid to admit it. Not yet anyway

[dmitri-shenker]

There was a manic energy to Dmitri that was unmistakable, still riding on the high of what he'd done. Even if he hadn't quite got his man, he'd still killed a fair number of vampires in the Kremlin, finally acted on all the rage that had been simmering inside him for years. Despite the torture for information, the repeated druggings and being fitted with a collar that prevented him from accessing even the slimmest sliver of his power, Dmitri wasn't cowed. Worse than that, he felt elated, gleeful, untouchable. He saw the guards watching him with distrust, concern that he was going to do something stupid at any moment. It wasn't an entirely unfounded fear.

In the Undercroft, Dmitri made himself comfortable, lacked the obvious nerves of most new arrivals. All the slaves seemed to hate the clothes they were issued with, but Dmitri in particular took umbrage with them. Left to his own devices, he very seldom wore trousers, preferred skirts, utility kilts. He'd set about unseeming the pair he'd been given with his teeth, boldly, in full display of everyone, sitting in his underwear in the meantime. He'd think about how he was going to put it back together in the way he wanted later. Maybe this was a problem of his mood, lacking impulse control, not thinking beyond the very next action.

"Da? You want something?" He asked whoever had come to hover near him, without looking up from his task. He pulled a few fabric fibers from between his teeth. "Or maybe you know where to get a needle and thread?"

@krovscastlestarters

[reborrowing]

23

23 “Please don’t kill me!” “Wait, what?” thought I posted this weeks ago but just saw it still in my inbox, my bad

Crossing the mountain path was dangerous, even with help. Here lurked any number of beasts and monsters who didn't care to differentiate man from any other prey animal. Here was ice and cold and treacherous falls. Here was death.

And yet, the outlaw better liked his chances here than inside the city gates, where the guards were agitated and alert, just as prone to hunting as any other predator.

Eventually, Dmitri snaked his way far enough into the pass that he felt sure no one would appear on his tail. That was around when he noticed ice biting into what skin he’d left uncovered. Or maybe he noticed when he had lost his footing and fallen several feet down the mountainside. Miserable place.

He was gathering firewood to prepare a shelter for the night when he heard the first monster howling over the winds. He scanned the horizon to gauge how far away it might be. He didn't see anything at first. Then, a terrible yelp drew his attention to a pair of large shadows struggling in the near distance. The yelp was cut short with a sudden blow that shook the trees around the fight. Dmitri shuddered as the shape stood even taller and began to lumber in his direction.

He dropped what wood he’d gathered and scrambled back through the numbing cold for somewhere to hide and found a cave. The entrance hadn’t been visible from a distance, and he hoped the monster would fail to see it up close as well.

Inside was dark and free of biting winds. It made as good a shelter as anything he might make. Once he was sure he couldn’t hear anything lurking in the blackness around him, he laid out his bedroll and let himself drift off to sleep. 

He woke to light and a scream so loud it left his ears ringing. He shot upright, ready to run, only to find himself cornered. Behind him was a wall of stone and in front of him, mere meters away, was the patchwork boot of a giant. His mouth went dry as his mind reeled with stories of their cruelty. The imposing figure was at least three times his own size, easily blocking any escape just by standing there. Dmitri fumbled to load his crossbow, knowing it was probably a futile action, when the monster shouted again.

"Please, don't kill me!”

"Wait, what?"

The giant’s voice was at odds with the Dmitri's expectations of such a large creature. Soft. He lowered his crossbow. Now that he took a second to look past the danger of the hulking silhouette, he could see that the giant was a far cry from the legends he'd heard. The monster was a girl, a child, dressed in torn and shoddily mended rags. She was large, yes, but no fury in her eyes, no threat. Her eyes were wide and wet with tears. Terrified.

“You’re a hunter, aren’t you? You’ve got that bow. And I bet you've got knives, too, to take out my eyes,” she said.

“I do,” Dmitri said warily. “But it’s not for you. Or your eyes.”

“It looks like it," she sniffled.

“Does it, though?"

He wouldn't be surprised if she could use one of his bolts as a toothpick.

“Yes!” She wailed, loud enough to make him flinch. He wouldn't be surprised if everything within the nearest mile had flinched. “Like the others! I ran away, but I saw! I know what you’ll do to me!”

Oh.

"Hey now, calm down. I'm not here to hurt you, I just needed somewhere to stay warm, same as you. Come–" he took a sharp breath and steeled himself, "–come here."

She shook her head.

“You’re going to hurt me! I don’t want to die.”

"Look, I'm putting down my weapons. It's alright," he said reassuringly.

He tensed involuntarily, but did his best to hide it, to offer her a comforting gesture. She didn’t seem to notice either way and went to grab him. Dmitri flailed for a second, startled, as the ground fell out from beneath him and her arms squeezed around him. But it didn’t hurt. It was warm and needy and he found himself unbothered by the girl using him as a teddy bear. He reassured her again, promising that she was going to be alright now, he'd make sure of it.

He wouldn’t leave a child alone in this land full of mosnters.

[godinvent]

So I saw this post about how in the books, Dracula is actually an old man and I always imagined Dracula looked like older Christopher Lee, who played him while he was a kid. While looking him up I accidentally discovered that Christopher Lee was the coolest person in the universe and there is a non-zero chance he was actually Dracula in real life

Sir Christopher Frank Carandini Lee CBE CStJ (May 27th 1922 - June 7th 2015), Sir because he was knighted in 2009 for his charity and his contributions to cinema

So first of all, I saw that he actually knew 8 LANGUAGES (English, Spanish, French, Swedish, Italian, German, Russian and Greek) and was also a staggering 6 feet 5 inches in height. Born in Belgravia in London, one of the most Dracula sounding places I’ve ever heard of, here’s some insane facts about him

•His father, Lieutenant Colonel Geoffrey Trollope Lee of the 60th King's Royal Rifle Corps, fought in the Boer War and World War 1

•His mother, Countess Estelle Marie (née Carandini di Sarzano) was an Edwardian beauty who was painted by Sir John Lavery, Oswald Birley, and Olive Snell, and sculpted by Clare Sheridan

•Lee's maternal great-grandfather, Jerome Carandini, the Marquis of Sarzano, was an Italian political refugee

•Jerome’s wife was English-born opera singer Marie Carandini (née Burgess), meaning that Lee is also related to famous opera singer Rosina Palmer

•His parents would divorce when he was four and his mother would marry Harcourt George St-Croix Rose, banker and uncle of Ian Fleming, making the author of the James Bond books Lee’s step cousin. Fleming would then offer him two roles as the antagonist in the film adaptations of his books, though he was only able to land the antagonist role in The Man With the Golden Gun. It’s believed his role in the film is significantly better and more complex than his book counterpart, played as “a dark side of Bond”

•His family would move and they lived next door to famous silent film actor Eric Maturin

•One night, before he was even 9 years old, he was introduced to Prince Yusupov and Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich, THE ASSASSINS OF GRIGORI RASPUTIN, WHOM LEE WOULD GO ON TO PLAY MANY YEARS LATER

•Lee applied for a scholarship to Eton, where his interview was in the presence of the ghost story author M.R. James, who is considered one of the best English language ghost story writers in history and who widely influenced modern horror

•He only missed by King’s Scholar by one place by being bad at math, one of the only flaws God gave him

•Due to lack of working opportunities, Lee was sent to the French Riviera and stayed with his sister and her friends while she was on holiday, and on the way there he stopped briefly in Paris with journalist Webb Miller, a friend of his step father. Webb Miller was an American journalist and war correspondent and was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for his coverage of the execution of the French serial killer Henri Désiré Landru, also known as BLUEBEARD. He also helped turn world opinion against British colonial rule of India

•While staying with Miller he witnessed Eugen Weidmann’s execution by guillotine, the last public execution ever performed in France

•Arriving in Menton, Lee stayed with the Russian Mazirov family, living among exiled princely families

•When World War 2 began, Lee volunteered to fight for the Finnish Army against the Soviet Union in the Winter War, and a year later, Lee would join the Home Guard. After his father died, he would join the Royal Air Force and was an intelligence officer and leading aircraft man and would later retire as a flight lieutenant in 1946

•While spending some time on leave in Naples, Lee climbed Mount Vesuvius, which erupted only three days later

•After nearly dying in an assault on Monte Cassino, Lee was able to visit Rome where he met his mother’s cousin Nicolò Carandini, who had fought in the Italian Resistance Movement. Nicolò would later go on to be the Italian Ambassador to Britain. Nicolò was actually the one to convince Lee to become an actor in the first place

•Oh yeah Christopher Lee was seconded to the Central Registry of War Criminals and Security Suspects where he was tasked with HELPING TRACK DOWN NAZI WAR CRIMINALS

•Lee’s stepfather served as a captain in the Intelligence Corps

•He was actually told he was too tall to be an actor, though that would honestly help him considering one of his first roles was as The Creature in The Curse of Frankenstein

•He was cast in Captain Horatio Hornblower R.N (1951) as a Spanish captain due to not only his fluency in Spanish but also he knew how to fence!

•Lee’s portrayal of Dracula had a crucial aspect of it which Bela Lugosi’s didn’t have: sexuality, a prime aspect of the original novels.

•While being trapped into playing Dracula under Hammer Film Productions, Lee actually hated the script so much that he would try his best to sneak actual lines from the original novel into the script

•Ironically, he was rejected from playing in The Longest Day because “he didn’t look like a military man”

•Christopher Lee was friends with author Dennis Wheatley, who “was responsible for bringing the occult into him”. He would go on to play in two film adaptations of his novels

•His biggest regret in his career is not taking the role of Sam Loomis from Halloween when offered to him

•Christopher Lee was the only person involved with the Lord of the Rings movies to have actually met J.R.R Tolkien

•When playing Count Dooku, he actually did most of the swordsmanship himself

•Christopher Lee was the second oldest living performer to enter the Billboard Top 100 charts with the song “Jingle Hell” at 91 years old. After media attention, he would get No. 18, and Lee became the oldest person to ever hit the Billboard Top 20 chart

I really am leaving some stuff out here and I may go on

[xerith-42]

Dante hesdcanons pls pls pls pls pls

I'll admit, I haven't given blue hair and pronouns enough love, so let's give it to him.

Dante was like 18 fresh out of the guard academy when Aph met him, compared to Garroth and Laurance who are in their mid to late twenties, and he was kind of just a little feral. Dante is just used to being a bewildering presence for people and he loves it. Like "Yes, I am basically a very tall child (5'7) and yes I will kick your ass." He likes confusing people, but he also really likes that Aph isn't thrown off by him. She treats him the way she would treat any guard she got roped into helping on a mission.

Dante's favorite color is magenta. Don't ask me why.

Dante carries on the honored tradition started by Gene of being a completely disastrous bisexual. Then again, with Garroth, Aph, and Laurance as his other role models, he really didn't stand a chance. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks about the possibility of just being with Nana and Nicole at the same time. He knows it's impossible, they've already pushed the situation past the point of no return because of his and Nicole's refusal to communicate, and he can't even begin to fathom how he'd explain it to the kids if Nana and Nicole even agreed to it.

Dante's favorite sweet that Nana makes is strawberry tarts. Strawberries are just his favorite fruits and Nana is always able to make something delicious with them.

This is basically canon but I want to turn up Dante's "I love my wife so god damn much!!" energy to 11. Like even if there's problems with Nicole, especially after they're resolved, he's so in love with Nana it's ridiculous. Y'know the way Maes Hughes is in Fullmetal Alchemist about his wife and kid? That's how Dante is.

And nobody can even really be mad at him because he's so earnest and loving and especially his mentors are so proud of him for really finding love and learning to cherish it. But there is more than a few times when Dante is gushing about his wife to Laurance while they're sparring and Laurance just groans and rolls his eyes. "Dante, I literally knew your wife before you did." "But you don't understand how she makes me feel Laurance! She's so brilliant, and beautiful--" "I've already heard you go on this rant before!"

There are some days where he's sort of distant. They became more and more frequent after Aph and everyone disappeared. Sometimes he would just go out to the gates of Phoenix Drop where he waited for them, or to that spot in the forest where they were last seen. He doesn't really say a lot, just stares at those spots, letting his brain feeling the crushing loneliness of missing almost everyone important to him. History has repeated itself. Due to forces that were honestly largely out of Dante's control, he's lost his entire family.

When Nana told him she was pregnant, Dante started crying. Tears of joy, relief, terror, grief, adoration, hopefulness. He just falls to his knees while holding her hand and cries. And Nana kneels down and comforts him. She knows what this means to him, how important and yet twisted Dante's relationship to having a family is. But neither one of them doubt that the other wants this. Dante wants this more than anything.

Oh my Irene he must have been a MESS after finding out about Dmitri. I know the show gave us some of this, but he probably hid a lot of it from Aph because she hasn't been around for so long, and he saw the kind of relationship bull shit she is still kind of getting up to, so he doesn't want to burden her with this. But when everyone's gone home for the night and it's just Nana and Dante in their bed together?

Needless to say a lot of tears were shed, apologies were stumbled through, and Dante ultimately resolves that he wants to be an even better father than he is to make up for not being there for Dmitri. And Nana assures him he's already a great father (because he is), but adores how dedicated her husband is to making up for his past mistakes in a very substantial way.

It takes a very long time for Dante to forgive Nicole. He still loves her, he never won't love her honestly, but he can't forgive her for hiding Dmitri from him. Even if they weren't together when he was born, he still would have done anything Nicole needed. Whether that was keeping Dmitri in his home for a few weeks, or just giving Nicole monthly payments, Dante would have taken what he could get. He's heartbroken that after all the time they spent together Nicole didn't realize that about him. Even if he'd "moved on".

I don't think Dante is capable of moving on. He's a character who constantly gets stuck in the past and shoulders the consequences of not only his own mistakes, but the mistakes of many others around him. Even when he tries to move forward, his past keeps coming back to bite him in the ass.

[thsc-confessions]

"I remember seeing a post here on Tumblr (or Twitter) where someone zoomed in on the rules of the wall and one of the rules that someone pointed out was 'no swearing'"

"And thanks to that I can't stop imagining Dmitri, Grigori or any guard on the wall saying like: "what the fudge?" Or "holy moly" whenever they are angry and want to swear"

"So, to the person who made that post. THANK YOU AS I LOVE AND HATE YOU, YOU ARE THE BEST" submitted by anon