#King Pyotr

[scriobh-an-iontas]

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In the three-ninth kingdom, in the three-tenth realm, there was a Wild Forest, full of magic and fae, of witches and enchantresses, and of heroes and villains. Many stories began and ended there. Our story starts with Natishka. Natishka was a shapeshifter, and one of the wild fae folk, perhaps the most wild of them. Certainly she was the most mischievous of them.

There were many beings she teased and taunted. The raven-fae who knew secret magics, the nymphs who protected the trees and streams, even the beasts were not safe from her tricks, although the great kings were the most fun.

King Igor, keeper of the Firebird, was perhaps the greatest target of her ire, although the Sorcerer-King, Yacob, who kept his beautiful daughter locked away in a tower, detested her tricks even more than King Igor did, though she went for him less because of his magical prowess. Her favorite target, though, was King Pyotr, who kept the White Mare, the greatest horse in the world.

She was never happier than when he’d found one of her tricks, and she always bounded away full of laughter afterward. He, in turn, would always take joy in them, and while she knew that he would love to catch her, she never allowed it to happen.

Ivan, the Grey Wolf, and the Firebird

I wrote a retelling of this russian fairy tale a while ago, and illustrated it using the LoveNikki fashion game. The story writing was straightforward. The image generation was ... not. Like, it took a LONG time to get it all done, longer than I thought it would.

I wish I could have drawn out the scenes myself, but my art skills are LACKING, so I worked with the tools I had. Anyway, I thought about making this into one HUGE post but I figure it'll be kinder to spread it out and just have a bunch of posts all linked.

Or maybe the huge post would be kinder, and now I'm going to torture you all.

ANYWAY.

Here is my retelling. I hope you don't hate it.

[kavalyera]

you got the main villains of the john wick series who clearly have some form of fatherly issues. like iosef clearly has some problems with viggo, santino DEFINITELY beefed with his dad, the adjudicator…. well they’re emo so that’s how, and im pretty sure we’ve all agreed the marquis de gramont latched onto his mother out of safety

and then you have john who has THREE(3) fatherly figures

[52pk]

diva and his headband

(10/11 lightning @ canes)

[stromuprisahat]

Ok sooo, what is the king's name in the trilogy? In the quote he is Alexander the 3, yet in the show and all of the media based on the show (fanfiction and metas), he is Pyotr. What'd going on?? Why the change??

In books he's Alexander III Lantsov. The show likely changed the name to Pyotr so the audience doesn't confuse him with Aleksander- the Darkling. A move that might be understandable, yet it never fails to make me wonder how can even a casual viewer be so stupid they don't grasp the concept of several people sharing a name.

But nvm that...

[lmaowh-at]

Correct height chart according to me

[evrythingnice]

King Crimson - Talk to the wind

[redrumrose]

Are any of Dima's siblings married/in relationships?

Yes actually!

[blaylists]

moonlight serenade

[andreisvechnikov]

PYOTR GOALIE GOOOAAALLLLL

[studiotriggerfan397]

Out of all adaptations of the ballet and short story, this has gotta be my favorite version of The Nutcracker and the Mouse King.

I hope you like rodents! ^^

[rippingoffkingarthur]

Pict of Tanza dressed as Alexander Pushkin from the Pyotr Konchalovsky painting...

[eloquentlytired]

the knight — a logan howlett fic

pairing: old! logan howlett x plus size! reader

warnings for this fic: age gap, built up tension, eventual smut, reader is over 20, cheating, timetable is set centuries ago (18th-wise maybe) except rotten mindsets/opinions, fatphobia, the royals suck a$$ but who's surprised, themes of violence and blood

summary: you're of the highest noble class and married off to your land’s prince. during your time in the palace and your struggling effort to fit in, you realize that no one is what they claim to be except one man alone. logan howlett, the king’s right hand and best knight, strips himself off every comfort and sworn oath as he accompanies you through the horror of royalty. in the end, your feelings shift and chaos ensues.

Prologue

There was nothing uncommon about a girl of a noble family being forced to marry a man of an even wealthier better status. Except the damn prince. Your parents were delighted and had arranged everything themselves when the question was asked to them. Not to you.

A lady had no say in her marriage after all, unless she was commonly born.

“Maybe he's nice.” Your maid said as she packed your things for tomorrow’s moving. You'd been living in a castle, a castle of all things, alongside your new husband starting tomorrow.

“Maybe he's the worst.” Your voice barely came out as you sat on your bed, fidgeting with your night dress.

Cassandra, your maid and best friend, sat by your side with a reassuring smile. “Well in that case I will have to whoop him once in a while, won't I?”

She knew you like the back of her hand so it was easy to cast light upon your sour mood and expression.

You both gazed at each other and began laughing as you held her.

“I will miss you. I'll try to visit as soon as I can.” You promised her and Cassandra graced you with her signature loving smile.

“May the gods give you everything you wish for.” And to her words, you prayed the same.

The ride to the castle was not bad, just tiring. You did this travel alongside your father who put on his best facade before the queen and king. It felt surreal, and more so anxious, to stand before the most important people of this land.

You bowed before them just like you were taught, with your shaky hands gripping your dress.

“Let me see you.” The queen cooed while gripping your chin harshly. Your image of her immediately shifted from a fairy to whatever monster may look like her.

“Such a beauty, isn't she?” Your father asked before he was rudely interrupted.

“Now now. Adjustments can be made.” The Queen said in a monotonous voice which made your blood freeze within you.

Adjustments?

You didn't dare move as she continued inspecting you under the silence of her husband the King and your father. Her long, thin fingers moved creepily around your face resembling spider legs.

“You’re a full girl but I have just the solution. I too had to drop the cakes you know.” She laughed, then the King laughed then your father. It was a strained sound coming from him, something that was forced for the whole purpose of pleasing his queen, but it still wounded you inside.

You felt thankful when you were quickly dismissed so that your father would discuss the marriage details with the queen and the king.

Your new maid, who didn't seem to be over eighteen, was the sweetest girl ever. She escorted you to your chambers immediately and began sorting out whatever you'd brought along.

“What is your name?” You asked her and you were sad to see her so startled, almost fearful. Were they treating her badly here?

The girl looked at you and spoke with a stutter.

“Ariadne, my princess.” What a pretty name, you thought.

“Well, Ariadne, it's nice to meet you. And please call me by my name, not a formal title.” The girl seemed to ease up slowly when you introduced yourself and looked at her so kindly, almost motherly.

You spent your afternoon being pampered by servants to an overwhelming point. In the bath, when you brushed your hair, when you clothed yourself, even when you were to paint your face with your personal make-up they would not let you do it alone.

“The queen likes red, princess.” Ariadne whispered in your ear when she saw your confused expression. You didn't bother correcting her when she called you by formality. You were too overwhelmed at that moment.

When the preparations were finally done, you turned to the mirror only to find a reflection... unknown.

“You look marvelous, princess.” The maids around you complimented and did some final adjustments to your red dress and makeup. The dress itself was red all over made of expensive fabric. The skirt was high and bouncy around you and the corset beneath was all but allowing you to breath. The corset’s tightness forced your breasts to be pushed into a higher position — they were evidently exposed because of the dress’ low cleavage.

“Perhaps there's something I could wear over this?” You asked but they all looked at you as if you were crazy.

“Her Majesty chose this for you. Said it's most suitable for a girl like you.”

The reply you received from one of the maids made you wonder. What exactly did that mean? In the back of your mind you knew all too well that she was referring to your body but once again you did not speak.

You were with your father, walking around the palace grounds and getting familiar with the gigantic space that overwhelmed you. Your arm was comfortably hooked around his own as you walked.

“How do you find your new home?” He asked with a grin upon his face, one you didn't want to ruin.

“It’s lovely, father.”

Your lack of effort went unnoticed by him per usual.

The sound of commotion startled both of you, making you stare at each other. You pulled away from your father and walked towards the large windows of the castle, gazing down at the courtyard. And then you saw him.

The prince was obvious amongst the many guards that surrounded him, wearing his distinguished cape and a crown smaller than the king's and queen's. He stood proudly upon his horse, blonde hair and blue eyes shimmering but it wasn't enough to draw your attention.

Your father hurriedly marched by your side and spoke. “That’s your husband to be. The most handsome in this kingdom indeed.”

His words barely registered into your mind.

Your gaze was fixated elsewhere as you stared at the royal guard riding beside the prince; a worn out face, an ashy coloured beard and a proudly puffed out chest. He looked like he'd seen better days or that he'd barely smiled in his whole life but even then you couldn't stop staring.

“Yes. The most handsome.” Was all you could say in response to your father as he held your hand and pulled you away from the window.

The prince turned to his right hand, to his most essential and strongest guard.

“Being a prince is a wonderful thing, wouldn't you say sir Howlett?” The prince asked as he addressed the knight by his side.

Logan nodded in response, his years of service having taught him better than to disagree with the hands that fed him.

“That is correct, my prince.”

His eyes glanced at the young boy — a ruler to be. But Logan knew there was no hope for this land and Kingdom; not if this was their future king.

“But being King is more than wonderful. And I intend to experience that glory with you as my protector.” The way those words came out of the prince's mouth was different — cruel and thirsty. Logan had heard that tone before. From men overwhelmed with power that in the end ended up dead.

“Of course, my prince.”

Something alarmed Logan, like a scratch by the ear.

He snapped his head to the left and gazed at the palace’s high windows. There was no one there but he felt his gaze and presence drawn to whatever that area was; the same area that you had walked by with your father.

As he and the guards parted from the prince to enter the stables, he heard whispers that barely intrigued him.

“The new princess, our future queen, has arrived.” His ears picked up many comments — good and bad — but he paid no mind as he took care of his horse.

“Are you not curious to see her, Logan?” One of his fellows in the royal guard asked while the others replied for him.

“He is the prince’s right hand. He will see whether he likes it or not.” The men laughed but Logan busied himself with cleaning after his horse, scrubbing its brown fur silently.

Another knight interfered while slowly retreating from the stables.

“You better tell us if she's worth it!”

Logan gave him a dirty look before resuming his work quietly.

He was just about done caring for his horse when a servant boy approached him, carrying a paper wrapped package in his arms. The boy seemed flushed and out of breath, signaling that he'd been in a hurry.

“Sir Howlett!” The servant boy called and Logan looked at him while wiping his arms with an old rug.

“Spill it,kid.” He mumbled in a tired tone.

“The prince demands your presence in tonight’s dinner.” Logan paused.

“It is Scott’s shift—”

The servant boy cut him off. “H—He said he'll cut off my head if you decline.”

Yes. Those were the moments he hated, the moments he considered rebellion or brutality. But he also knew better than to have an entire royal army chase after him on the crown’s behalf.

“I'll do it. Go home,kid.” He ignored the youthful tears and the repeated thank yous of the servant boy as he ran away. Logan knew how it was, how it felt. He wouldn't say you're welcome for not taking away a life; all of that process was fucked up.

The time for dinner was nearing as Logan dressed himself with a newer, cleaner armor. One that was requested by the prince himself.

Logan stared in the mirror of the confined room he lived in. His reflection was someone unknown.

“Let’s do this.” He whispered gruffly as his hands instinctively wrapped around his sword.

He could feel it in his old bones and the fluttering sensation in his gut. Tonight would make everything shift.

author’s note: hi lovelies. this is so self indulgent ngl 😭 I have somehow already written the first chapter too but I'll post it tomorrow. just felt really inspired all of a sudden. also noticed the reflection parallels with the reader and Logan? I stan! hope u enjoyed and if u like this pls leave a like, reblog and comment!🩷

[cardiaccanesblog]

They don’t touch his guys!!!

got his 3rd shutout of the season: ✅

fought the panthers: ✅

(02/22 panthers @ canes)

[hauntedppgpaints]

Hottest Goalie on Each Team Poll Results!!

GOOOOOOOOOD MORNING HOCKEYBLR!

I've got the piping hot results of the poll I posted this week, served fresh and ready to be read! The final count was 588 votes!

TOP 10 ACROSS THE LEAGUE:

Alex Lyon, 562 votes

Juuse Saros, 540

Joel Hofer, 535

Marc-Andre Fleury, 516

Joseph Woll, 509

Jeremy Swayman, 485

Stuart Skinner, 478

Elvis Merzlikins & Kaapo Kahkonen, 451

Mackenzie Blackwood, 439

Alexandar Georgiev, 425

BOTTOM 10 ACROSS THE LEAGUE:

Matt Murray (Dallas), 7

Ville Husso, 12

James Reimer, 14

Antti Raanta, 15

Justus Annunen, 17

Casey DeSmith, 22

Eric Comrie, 25

Kevin Lankinen, 48

Jack Campbell & Jordan Binnington, 53

Calvin Pickard, 57

Detailed tallies, pie charts, and fun facts are below the cut! Sorry about how the teams are paired together, there's a 30 image limit on posts :(

Blue Jackets:

Elvis, 451

Daniil, 137

Hurricanes:

Frederik, 373

Pyotr, 137

Spencer, 63

Antti, 15

Islanders:

Ilya, 378

Semyon, 210

Devils:

Kaapo, 451

Jake, 137

Flyers:

Sam, 327

Ivan, 261

Rangers:

Igor, 355

Jonathan, 124

Louis, 109

Capitals:

Darcy, 390

Charlie, 198

Penguins:

Tristan, 335

Alex, 253

Sabres:

Devon, 414

Ukko-Pekka, 149

Eric, 25

Bruins:

Jeremy, 485

Linus, 103

Panthers:

Anthony, 303

Sergei, 285

Red Wings:

Alex, 562

James, 14

Ville, 12

Senators:

Joonas, 319

Anton, 269

Canadiens:

Cayden, 381

Sam, 207

Maple Leafs:

Joseph, 509

Ilya, 79

Lightning:

Jonas, 406

Andrei, 182

Blackhawks:

Petr, 351

Arvid, 237

Utah:

Karel, 379

Connor, 209

Stars:

Scott, 293

Jake, 288

Matt, 7

Avalanche:

Alexandar, 425

Ivan, 146

Justus, 17

Predators:

Juuse, 540

Kevin, 48

Wild:

Marc-Andre, 516

Filip, 72

Jets:

Laurent, 332

Connor, 256

Blues:

Joel, 535

Jordan, 53

Flames:

Jacob, 423

Dan, 165

Ducks:

Lukas, 321

John, 267

Kings:

Cam, 379

Pheonix, 148

David, 61

Oilers:

Stuart, 478

Calvin, 57

Jack, 53

Kraken:

Joey, 325

Philipp, 263

Sharks:

Mackenzie, 439

Devin, 149

Golden Knights:

Jiri, 321

Logan, 199

Adin, 68

Canucks:

Thatcher, 317

Arturs, 249

Casey, 22

FUN STATS!

2 teams had more than one goalie in the bottom 10: the Red Wings, and the Oilers

Two ties: 8th place in the top 10, and 9th place in the bottom 10

The two teams with the closest to even results: the Stars, and the Panthers

The tallest goalie in the top 10 was Joel Hofer, at 6'5''

The shortest goalie in the top 10 was Juuse Saros, at 5'11''

the tallest goalie in the bottom 10 was Justus Annunen, at 6'4''

the shortest goalie in the bottom 10 was tied between Antti Raanta and Casey DeSmith, both at 6'0''

In the top and bottom 10, there were 9 Canadians, 6 Finns, 5 Americans, 1 Latvian, and 1 Bulgarian

The oldest goalie in the top 10 was Marc-Andre Flerury, at 39

The oldest goalie in the bottom 10 was James Reimer, at 36

The youngest goalie in the top 10 was Joel Hofer, at 23

The youngest goalie in the bottom 10 was Justus Annunen, at 24

All of the goalies in the top and bottom 10 catch with their left hand

The three biggest sweeps were the Red Wings (536 points between first and combined second and third place), the Predators (492 points), and the Blues (482)

The three closest calls were the Panthers (18 points between first and second), the Senators (50), and the Ducks (54)

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Still be here in the morning?

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Summary: You drive Nikolai wild. You want him to see you, to see you, but you're scared. If you give in to your desires and you let yourself fall, will he still be there in the morning?

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT, LOTS OF SMUT, lots of teasing, a lil bit of angst, and some fluff. Also the reader's nickname is Mouse - but it's not a size thing, it's an occupation thing *thumbs up emoji*

Author's Note: This started off as a smut thing but became a whole story thing so enjoy ;D

It was safe to say you drove Nikolai wild. You hardly listened to his rules, questioning your Captain in his every decision and driving him crazy with your constant bickering. You knew that you could, you were Nikolai's star crewmate and he would never risk firing you. No one was a better diplomat, marksman, or sailor - except perhaps Nikolai himself. You were a good detective too - you were the only one of his crew to have figured out his true identity.

You had teased him about it on a brief visit to West Ravka - an old family painting had given it all away.

"You'll never guess what I found, Cap." You said, waltzing into his quarters and jumping up onto his desk. He tilted his face up to you - indicating that he was listening - but kept his eyes focused on the maps laid in front of him, studying new routes out west. You were only docked in Os Kervo to collect a round of new supplies - enough to keep you afloat to Novyi Zem or even further.

"Tell me, Mouse. What have you found that is so worth sharing that you break into my quarters?" He used the affectionate nickname you had picked up since joining the crew - you were quiet, almost undetectable when need by. Of course, Nikolai knew how annoying and boisterous you could get when you were comfortable. Still, the nickname had stuck. In fact, you were almost certain that aside from Nikolai, and the twins, no one could remember your true name. It didn't matter. You had moved on from that life.

"Well, Tolya and I spent most of our afternoon in the galleries in Os Kervo-"

"-leaving Tamar to collect the supplies? Yes, I heard about that. Just because you keep us out of trouble with the law does not mean that you get to delegate all your duties to someone else. We work together, Mouse, you'd do well to remember it."

"Yes, yes, she said she was fine with it. Something about getting Tolya's poetic arse off her back for a few hours," Nikolai chuckled at that, "And anyway, the interesting thing is what I found in the galleries. You see, despite the Fold, West Ravka is still a united nation-"

"I'm aware."

"Stop interrupting me!" You swatted him with a loose piece of paper on his desk, "It's rude. You'd have thought that you had some manners - what with your pretentious nature."

"Is there a point to this, Mouse? Because I suggest you get there soon."

"Well, what I was saying was, I came across a portrait. A new one - well, sort of. It had the King - Pyotr, that is - and his wife, and their sons. Did you know that they had 2? I had simply forgotten." A cheeky grin had snuck onto your face and Nikolai was now looking directly at you. You leaned in close to his ear, "I'd say they did the younger son a disservice, wouldn't you? Your Highness?"

Nikolai moved swiftly, clamping his hand down over your mouth. "Does Tolya know?"

You move his hand off your mouth, "Of course not. I'm not one to be going around spreading rumours that are not mine to spread."

"Good. And you're going to keep it that way. Especially if you want to stay on this ship."

"Oh, Nikolai. You're not going to fire me. You won't risk having the biggest threat to your secret not on your side. I'm a diplomat - I know how intimidation works," Nikolai fixes you with a stare, "Ok, I was a diplomat, whatever. Semantics. Point is, you're not going to fire me. Your secrecy depends on it."

After that day, your teasing had increased ten-fold and Nikolai's patience with you had decreased just as much. He hardly spoke to you if he didn't have orders to give you. And it pissed you off.

To be perfectly honest, you made his blood boil. Nikolai didn't know what it was about you, but you knowing who he was had tipped him over the edge. He thought that he was untraceable - a new persona, a new look. He'd made a point to never dock in Ravka - but needs must and there was no way they'd survive a trip to Kerch. They'd been running on fumes. To be honest, the trip had gone better than expected. But of all the people to find out, it just had to be you. He stewed alone in his chambers. They were currently in Novyi Zem, planning to head further west. Ravka had no power further west than Novyi Zem, a notion which many - including you - were grateful for.

He'd never taken the time to understand what you were running from - almost everyone in his crew was running from some demon, but you had never once let slip who you were before you joined Sturmhond's crew. He knew that you were a diplomat of some kind and that you were half-Ravkan, but beyond that, you were a mystery to him. Perhaps that's what pissed him off. That you knew exactly who he was and who he had been and he knew nothing about you.

A knock came at his door. Who the fuck could that be? To his knowledge, everyone was out partying in the taverns. Who could resist a peaceful night out when you spent every other night on a ship sailing in the middle of an ocean? Nikolai could. And so could this mystery person apparently. Nikolai opened his door before the guest knock again, groaning when he caught sight of who it was. You were standing at his door - coat and boots discarded and your shirt haphazardly untied. You pushed past him and made yourself comfortable in his chair, smiling as he ran a hand over his face.

"Awhh, don't look too happy to see me, Sturmhond. Or should I say, Nikolai?" You'd taken to teasing him in the privacy of his room, where you were sure no one could hear you.

"What do you want, Mouse?"

"I just wanted to see how my dear Majesty was holding up. It has been a rough week for us all."

"Cut the bullshit. I know you're here to piss me off. Not tonight, Mouse. Please."

"Ooh. I like it when you beg. Do it again." You grinned at him. You knew you were getting under his skin.

"I said not tonight. Get out, Mouse. Go piss off some drunkard in a tavern." Nikolai said, nearly pushing you out of the door. "Maybe he can fuck the attitude out of you," he whispered under his breath.

"Make me."

"I'm sorry, what?" Nikolai said, turning around to face you again.

"I said, make me, Lantsov."

"I told you to stop fucking using that name," Nikolai growled, pushing you up against the wall, his arm pushing under your boob. You flushed pink, heat pooling in your stomach.

Nikolai grinned, "Oh, I see." He looked you up and down, scanning your figure. You could feel your underwear soak with every second of his gaze.

"What do you see, Captain? Need me to get you a spyglass. Could help you-" You were cut off by Nikolai's lips on yours. They were soft, gentle, and yet demanding at the same time. It was nice. This was nice.

"Is that what you wanted, Mouse? Attention from your Captain?" The honourific felt dirty coming from his mouth. You felt the desire to push him further - to piss him off until he gave you what you wanted. What you needed.

"Are you sure it's not what you wanted Captain? You seem to be a lot more excited by this than I am."

Nikolai nearly growled at that, attaching his lips to yours again, before slipping your belt off. He slipped his hands down to your core, feeling the wetness and smirking.

"Not as excited as me, huh?" He rubbed a circle around your clit and watched your defenses crumble. You grabbed a fistful of his jacket in your hand as your hips bucked away from him.

Nikolai lifted you up easily, depositing you on his desk, "I wanted to fuck you that day. When you hopped up on this desk and threatened me the first time. Should've done it. Should've shown you exactly who the boss is around here."

He grabbed the small knife he kept in his breast pocket off the desk and flicked it open. You gasped. Nikolai grazed the knife against the outside of your hip, slicing cleanly through your underwear. You were glad you'd taken off your stays earlier - you weren't sure if you could survive him ruining your most comfortable stays.

He placed a gentle kiss on your throat before pulling your shirt off. He gazed at you, momentarily starstruck, before latching his mouth onto your nipple. A hand came up to toy with the other, and you dissolved into a moaning mess.

He pulled away from your nipple to grin at your state. You looked at him breathlessly, grinning, "Is that all you've got, Lantsov."

His stare turned dark. He dove down and buried himself in your pussy. He licked and nipped, flicking your clit with his tongue. He played you like a well-tuned instrument. He fucked your hole with his tongue - alternating between stroking your walls with his tongue and sucking on your clit.

Your orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, sending waves of pleasure through your veins. You clamped your thighs around Nikolai's head, throwing your head back as you cried out.

Nikolai lifted his head up, eyes glinting dangerously, wetness smeared all around his lips. He looked devious. In that moment, he was not Nikolai Lantsov, spare to the Lantsov name, but Sturmhond, masterful privateer, Captain of Volkvolny. You loved him for it.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble, Mouse."

"What are you going to do about it?" You bit your lip, hiding a smirk.

He threw his coat off, carrying you towards his bed. You were lucky that no one else was on board - if they heard what was going on you'd never live it down.

Nikolai laid you on the bed, stripping his clothes off at extraordinary speed. He was quickly inside you, eliciting whimpers from you at every movement. He gave you a moment to adjust before he started to thrust. His hips snapped into you at an ungodly pace and it was all that you could do to not fall apart on his cock.

Nikolai grinned at your silence, his eyes scanning over you. Your face was blissed out, eyes rolling to the back of your head every so often. Sweat glistened on your skin, as you rocked forwards at the force of his every thrust. He couldn't help the small praises that fell from his lips as you moaned lowly.

"Look at you, so fucking beautiful under me, spread out for me like a whore. That's what you are, my beautiful little whore." You moaned at the filth dripping out of his mouth, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Have I fucked the little mouse stupid? No words left to taunt me now, huh?" You moaned softly, your mouth almost stuck in the shape of an 'O'. "Maybe I should do this more often, keep you quiet for longer." You nodded your head, head too foggy to come up with another smart-ass response.

Your second and third orgasms crashed over you in quick succession - Nikolai clamped his hand over your mouth as you screamed 'Nikolai' over and over again. He promised that next time he'd fuck that name out of your brain, before pulling out and cumming all over your chest.

You lay on his bed - dazed from the intense fucking you just received. You were surprised to find yourself alone in Nikolai's bed - he'd disappeared moments after cumming. He'd said something but you were still coming down from your last high when he moved away. You began to spiral. Of course, he was only fucking you to teach you a lesson - why else would he be interested in you? You idiot! He's the prince of fucking Ravka and the Captain of this ship. What do you have that would interest him, apart from your bratty mouth and attitude? He said it himself - the attitude pissed him off.

You were startled when something cold made contact with your chest. You looked up to find Nikolai with something in his hand - a wet washcloth, maybe? - and a sheepish grin on his face. He was still naked, his hair still tousled and his face still flushed. An involuntary beam broke out across your face. He didn't leave you after all.

Nikolai was taken by surprise at the tears that gathered on your lash line. He pulled you up into his chest when you were clean, sitting on the edge of his bed with you held tightly in his arms.

"Hey, hey, hey." He said, drawing mindless shapes on your back as tears streamed down your face, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He was confused - surely, if he hurt you, you wouldn't be seeking comfort in him.

His heart slowed slightly when you shook your head, but the confusion remained.

"Talk to me, Mouse. What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not. If it matters to you, then it matters to me. Tell me, whatever it is, I'll fix it." Another wave of emotion washed over you. You climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"I thought you were mad." You whispered quietly, almost hoping he wouldn't hear you and that he would let it go.

"Why would I be mad?"

"You left." You shrugged, "You left and I thought you were gone for good." He pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled your head into his chest.

"Oh, Mouse. For all your genius, you are oblivious." You looked up at him, confused. "I love you, Mouse. I always have." You shook your head, "What?"

"You're just saying that." You said, tears filling your lash line again as you tried to pull away, "You're just saying that 'cause you fucked me and you don't want me to leave." You tried to move out of his arms but he held you firmly. You hit his chest, trying to force yourself off him, but he stood his ground. Eventually, you just melted into his arms - he held you as you cried, hands stroking your hair soothingly.

You calmed down slowly, chest heaving as you tried to replenish your lungs. You stayed relaxed in his arms. He laid his head on top of yours. "Wanna tell me what that was about?"

You shook your head.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded your head.

"Do you trust me enough to believe me when I say I love you?"

You hesitated.

"Well, we've found our problem."

"You don't love me."

"How do you know? You been inside my head? Pretty sure even Grisha can't do that." You chuckled.

"You hate me. You can't even look at me - let alone talk to me for long enough to fall in love with me."

"I can't look at you because if I start looking I'll never look away. I can't talk to you because I look like a fool every time I try and string two words together in front of you. Ask Tolya - he'll tell you how hopelessly in love with you I am. And for someone who's not interested in romance, he's a fucking hopeless romantic." His words involuntarily brought a smile onto your face.

You looked into his eyes, "You're sure you love me?"

"Honey, you drive me wild."

You nestled into his arms, and he leaned you both back onto the bed. Your head hit his pillow and suddenly you're surrounded by him. His arms wrap around you tightly, his pillow smells like him, his face is right next to yours. It's nice. Comforting.

You looked up into his face, studying his features while he slept. He was pretty - objectively. His face was long - pointy. Someone had done a terrible job of fixing his broken nose - but it seemed off at a second glance. He seemed so different than the paintings in the gallery - more difference than age alone could bring. His eyes were the giveaway - they were muddy green at first glance but under the right light and if you stared long enough, they were the same hazel green as the ones in the painting. You reached up to stroke his face. How long would this all last? How long until he wouldn't be able to play pretend anymore? How long until he had to go back to being Prince Nikolai Lantsov of Ravka? How long did you have with him in this beautiful bubble that you had created? You could already hear the rest of the crew filtering in from their nights out.

A hand came up to wrap around yours, "Sleep, Mouse. I'll still be here in the morning."

You smiled. He'd still be here in the morning.

fin.

[arendelle-archives]

Who's in the portrait from Frozen - The Broadway musical?

A quick recap: in the original Broadway production of Frozen, during "For the first time in forever", Anna is seen next to the portrait of some unknown gentleman. Who is he?

I initially thought (incorrectly) this was a portrait of a young King Karl XIV Johan who was the king of Sweden and Norway (where he was known as Karl III Johan) during the years 1818-1844, i.e. during the time Frozen takes place!

Portrait of crown prince Karl Johan by François Gérard 1811 (cropped).

It could have been a cool easter egg to have him appear in the musical but unfortunately (for me) it was not the case!

My friend @bigfrozenfan suggested (correctly) that the uniform of the man in the Frozen portrait was borrowed from a painting of the Russian prince and military commander Pyotr Mikhailovich Volkonsky (1776-1852):

Portrait by English artist George Dawe circa 1823.

Unfortunately, this only gave us half the Broadway painting. We still needed the guy's face. Browsing image results on google, this painting of Russian politician and military commander Pavel Alexandrovich Stroganov (1774-1817) popped up, and it was a perfect match!

Portrait by George Dawe from some time before 1825.

Once we mirrored the picture...

Broadway on the left and original to the right.

Now, why Pavel decided to borrow his countryman Pyotr's uniform in the Frozenverse we can only speculate. What we do know is that they were both long dead when Frozen takes place.

Why were these portraits chosen by the set designers? Why not just use one portrait and call it a day? Why mane an edit? Probably just for fun. Maybe to confuse see if someone would figure out what it was based off of! 😄

It should also be mentioned that something strange is going on with the left epaulette. Compared to the original (right below), some elements of it has been copied and pasted in the Broadway version (left below). I have no idea why. maybe to save space in the picture. Other than that, the uniform appears to be completely unaltered.

I hope you learned something! 😁

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