#Nikolai is gnawing on me to go and write

[simping-for-red-flags]

Should I be working on my fic? Yes

Am I making edits based on my au instead? Also yes

[pompompurin1028]

Of Oblivious Bliss, or Ultimate Freedom

Summary: A discussion about guilt, freedom and morality with Nikolai

Pairing: Nikolai, DoA! reader

Genre: Scenario

Warnings: Nikolai’s philosophy (putting this in warnings just in case), mentions of corpses (nothing graphic though)

A/N: A scenario I daydream about if my safety is guaranteed lol, I just feel like it'd be really interesting to learn about his views more. I just want to have a discussion with the man, and that’s literally the whole plot. But I am still grasping his character, and my first time writing for him so don’t take it too seriously. Anyways, just a note, this is set during the cannibalism arc, and this fic is highly influenced by this analysis. 

My Masterlist

You could vividly feel a gnawing sensation resting in the pits of your heart, pounding like a hammer battering against your chest. For a moment, it was as if your ribs have become bound, squeezing tightly against your lungs. Your breaths shortened to no more than mere breaths as you struggled for air. You felt like you were almost on the verge of suffocation as you watched the sight unfold before your eyes, in the monitor as the smoke cleared to reveal the sight of rubble, and dead children. A sign that the commencement that Fyodor’s plan is unfolding flawlessly, yet a sight that wrought you pain, an unusual feeling of pain. The pains of guilt.

It is at these times that you found yourself envying Sigma whose placement in this plan in the Sky Casino meant he could be preoccupied with other matters, rather than observing the scenes of destruction. Sighing loudly, you leaned defeatedly against the cushions of your chair, you head hung against the top of the backrest willing for the memory to fade and the sensations to subside.

“Y/N~” The sound of the doors slamming shut and the familiar eccentric voice sounding from the entrance signified your colleague’s return. Huffing a small laugh to yourself, you adjusted yourself back to a sitting position, twirling your chair to face the door to the room you were currently situated in, knowing that per usual, Nikolai would enter to ‘entertain’ you until Fyodor made his return.

“How was ‘work’, Kolya?” You teased, a small smile tugging at the edge of your mouth as you awaited him to waltz into the room still dressed in his disguise as a secretary knowing full well of his answer.

“Oh, what a horrendous experience you must remind me of!” he exclaims dramatically throwing off his glasses the moment he sets step into the room. “So encaged by their own minds they are! The thoughtless obligations they take imposed by society, you wonder if they even know that they are deprived of their own humanity, their identity, their uniqueness! I pity and envy them, they are like birds who don’t even know that they’re trapped in a cage, joyously celebrating each day until the end of their lives… blissfully unaware of anything.” His enthusiastic voice slowly diminished in volume as he continued, as if saddened, or perhaps he was disappointed. “Thoughtless obligations imposed by society?” You mused, slowly repeating his words. “You mean to say humanity is repressed by society?”

“Precisely so!” He exclaims, perking up excitedly again, a grin upon his lips. Having done so, it was as if the side of him you had just seen moments ago were a mere illusion. “Oh, how I love the questions you are asking today, Y/N! It’s almost like you are the one who is giving me a quiz!” He claps his hands together as if delighted at the switch in dynamic. 

Seeing his reaction to your question, you couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your lips at his enthusiasm. Though you have fully acknowledged the frightening lengths he is willing to go in his cruelty and his search for freedom, you cannot deny that his thoughts and philosophy intrigued you deeply. And the fact that he was indulging your questions with seeming honesty only interested you and excited you even more, though, of course, you would never let the clown know. 

“Because is it not precisely the taming of man that society preludes? Fitting into little societal roles, you are fed obligations that your role comprises. And every day you are asked, to choose your own will or side with society, with the obligations, such thoughtless obligations. It’s not a wonder that they don’t recognize their own freedom when everyone else follows.” Pausing for a moment, you heard him spoke again, in a tone so soft for his typical self that you almost missed it. “Or perhaps they do, but refuse to give it even a glance, because they know the weight of it. The weight of ultimate freedom.” he continues. At this, you found his expression softened, yet protruded by a hint of sorrow as he revealed his own sentiments. You could scarcely feel a tone of loneliness as he spoke.

“But, are not some of these obligations intertwined with our own feelings of morality? So when we go against our morality, we ought to feel the pains of guilt. It hurts and tortures us, when overstepping such boundaries. Kolya, in doing so, are we stepping closer towards freedom, or are we just beginning to walk past the border just to lose sight of our humanity again?” You continued to question, looking towards him for an answer as you found yourself recalling the grips that the sensations of guilt had held on you just earlier, wondering how Nikolai dealt with such feelings in his pursuit for freedom. Does it not physically hurt him? You couldn’t help but wonder, though before his enemies you have seen multiple times the seemingly sadistic nature to him, but also having been met with such expressions and words of the sort that have escaped him today, it was at times like this that you knew there was more that lurked beneath his persona.

At your words, a small rare smile crossed his lips. “Maybe it is both,” he answered as if that were a matter of fact. “That is just a matter of whether you wish to lose yourself in the thralls of society, at the cost of freedom as a replaceable thing at any moment. Or to become an outsider of society, and soar like a bird to your heart’s content, carrying on you the weight of responsibility, knowing you willingly chose your every action. And to continue with bearing the pains of guilt or morality, or to stop at doing so once, is just a question of choice. Of oblivious bliss, or ultimate freedom.”

As you looked at him with a slightly confused gaze, still attempting to comprehend his words, you saw him smile sadly again before placing his hand on your shoulder almost tenderly. 

“Maybe on the day my part of the plan unfolds, like them, you will too understand, and will be able to choose to free yourself. Because I do not wish to see you as one of the imprisoned birds of society.” You heard him mutter almost under his breath, before his tone changed again. “But these are but the words of a clown after all! You shouldn’t take them too seriously!”

Just as a comic smile bloomed across his face at his words, with a dramatic bow as if he had just ended his performance, he retreated away from you again, and wordlessly left the room. With silence enveloping you once again, it was as if he had never been there at all.

Yet, the lack of the sensations that troubled you earlier before his arrival told you otherwise.

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[artistsfuneral]

for @wolf-and-bard wanted some Lambert/Vesemir, cutagens, nightmares, hurt/comfort, [more]

-

Over the years the crumbling walls of Kaer Morhen have seen too many ghosts staggering through the empty halls. Dead or alive, the souls that walk the cold floors are all haunted in one way or another. Some winters Remus can't make it to the keep, when the shadows talk louder than his pack mates. Some winters Eskel can't bare to show his face, hiding away in his room and some winters you can hear Kacper talk to boys that aren't there. They all carry extra baggage on their shoulders, it is part of who they are.

Vesemir wakes to the sound of bare feet in the hallway and the muffled calls for a boy that is long gone. The old wolf sighs and slips out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake Nikolai who is fast asleep next to him. Lambert is pacing in the hallway, barely awake and swaying dangerously with every step. The sour scent of fear lingers in the air around him. A nightmare, Vesemir understands as he walks up to the youngest pup. Lambert looks up, when Vesemir places a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he doesn't really see him. “Voltehre,” he says and his voice is shaking, “I need to find Voltehre.” The old wolf nods and wraps and arm around Lambert's waist. “I saw Voltehre in the kitchens, I believe. Why don't we go down there and take a look? Maybe grab a nice cup of tea, while we're at it?” He speaks with as much confidence as he can muster and Lambert in his sleep drunk state nods and clings to the wolf, following him down the stairs.

Vesemir isn't sure why, but the kitchen has always been a place of safety and peace for Lambert. A room where he can let go of his worries, wake up and fall asleep feeling sheltered. By the time he has two cups of steaming tea ready, the pup has left his nightmares behind him and is aware of his surroundings again. He takes the offered mug greedily, breathing in the herbal scent while warming up his freezing fingers. He has been stalking the hallways for a long time before Vesemir found him. When he tries to apologize for the trouble, the old witcher shakes his head and sits down next to him. Their bodies pressed together, Vesemir's warmth bleeds into Lambert's cold skin and the pup shuffles closer to bask in the safety of his alpha's strong body.

Vesemir buries his nose in Lambert's curls, breathes him in and places gentle kisses against his temple and along his scar. The pup melts into his touch with a sigh and a soft whine, turns his head so he can clasp his mouth around Vesemir's shoulder, teeth sinking into the exposed skin. The old wolf chuckles but lets Lambert gnaw and suck as much as he wants, breathing in the scent of sleepy pup and stroking his hand up and down his back. Eventually he feels Lambert getting tired again; the pup is kneading his hands against the old wolf's stomach and starts rutting against his hip. Vesemir shoves his hands underneath Lambert's butt and hoist him up as he stands. He takes pride in the fact that he can still carry all of his pups around, even Eskel or Remus who are by far the biggest of their pack. Though, a sleepy Lambert might just be his favorite.

He takes them back up the stairs and tucks Lambert into bed, making sure the room is warm enough by stroking the fire and adding another log. When he sets out to leave though, Lambert is whining for him to stay and it sounds so small and afraid, that Vesemir can't say no. The old wolf gets rid of his braies and slips under the covers next to him. Lambert hums satisfied and shuffles them around until Vesemir is lying on top of the other man, smothering him with the comfort of his body's weight. He then returns to bite at Vesemir's shoulder and quickly falls asleep, drooling onto both of them. Vesemir doesn't mind, as long as the other wolf his comfortable.

.

I think I'm coddling Lambert a bit... time to write him snarky again :)

and yes, you can send me prompts for this!

@hailhailsatan @kalikatze @whereiscarmensa @selectivegeekwithstandards @emotional-support-fandom @a-kind-of-merry-war

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[korolnichevoya]

send me a number 1-100 and i’ll write you a response based on that song from my spotify wrapped !

@drusja​ asked:                       give me number 7 pls 🥺

( in the giant’s shadow )

                                       HE’D      BEEN            worried   about   nina.   they   all   had   been,   but   himself   and   zoya   especially.   war   was   encroaching   on   all   sides   and,   while   nina’s   information   was   quite   literally   life-saving,   having   her   in   enemy   territory   right   on   the   brink   of   war   was   beginning   to   gnaw   on   his   conscience.   so   he’d   arranged   a   physical   meeting,   right   on   a   small   unnoticed   border   between   ravka   and   fjerda,   much   too   snowy   and   insurmountable   for   any   proper   amount   of   people   to   pass,   therefore   useless   to   patrol.   which   made   it   a   perfect   place   for   nina   and   nikolai   to   meet   in   person.   is   he   aware   that   it’s   stupid   for   the   king   of   ravka   to   be   travelling   to   close   to   the   border   with   only   his   army   general   for   protection?   yes.   but   when   has   something   being   stupid   stopped   nikolai   from   doing   it?   

                                    the   meeting   had   been   going   fine,   going      well      even,   until         (      always   until      )   a   small   coterie   of   fjerdan   hunters   had   stumbled   upon   them.   it   was   a   fight   immediately.   even   though   he   and   the   two   women   only   made   up   three,   they   had   the   upper   hand.   the   group   of   seven,   however,   outnumbered   them,   and   it   had   been   clear         SOMEONE         was   likely   about   to   walk   away   with   a   major   injury,   perhaps   even   a   fatal   one.   and   then.         and      then      .   it   was   like   nina   erupted,   bone   and   ash   flying   into   the   air,   piercing   their   enemies,         CHOKING         them   .   fjerdan   soil   has   no   shortage   of   its   buried   dead,   and   that   left   nina   with   no   shortage   of   ammunition.   

                                    he’d   heard   about   the   shift   of   her   abilities,   but   until   this   moment,   had   never   seen   it   first   hand.   

                                    ❝      saints   ,   nina   ,      ❞   he   breathes.   ❝         you’re   incredible   .         ❞

[nazyalenskyism]

Moonlight

Summary: Another night, just the same, but Nikolai isn't holding back anymore. A/N: Another Zoyalai fic, who could've imagined? I hope you like it, comments are always super appreciated and my inbox is open if you ever want to send prompts or talk! <3 The rest of the fic is under the cut!       Ao3: Moonlight         It had been a week since the monster had emerged again, leaving the Triumvirate to chase him across the countryside yet again, only this time something had been different. Ever since the fold, Nikolai had been able to control the demon, and they had worked together towards a common cause, but every night since they’d won the war-- since their enemies had been defeated and engagements broken off, the monster had been rearing its head, as if it wanted something Nikolai didn’t have. And so, a week ago, his demon had broken free, and Nikolai had stood by, unable to stop it until it had nearly been too late. He had almost caused irreversible harm to her. To Zoya. So here he was, pushing open the door to her chambers, something he would never have thought to do before this madness had happened. But it had been a week and he hadn't seen a trace of her in that time, and he was the king. A king who was done pining, done yearning, and who was here to try fix the rift that had overtaken the most important relationship in his life.

        “Zoya, I’m…”

        “I know.” He found her leaning over the terrace railing, back to him, the wind pulling back her silky hair to reveal her arm, bandaged from her collar to her wrist, a stark contrast against her silver netted nightgown.

        “I should have said something…”

        “Said what, Nikolai? We both know how you are with words, what could you have possibly said to make this any better?” her voice was as stiff as her posture, a telltale sign that she wasn’t okay.

        “Does it hurt?” he asked quietly, taking a step towards her. He wanted more than anything to reach out and push her hair back, to see her face and what she was feeling, to know how to fix this. But that was the problem, he always had hope that he could fix anything, but he didn’t know if he was capable of this— of bridging this gap between them. Guilt had been gnawing at him from the inside out for a while now, and yet somehow, the man of many words, Nikolai Lantsov, had been at a loss. This was the first time he’d brought up the incident since then. He didn't try to apologize, the last time he'd tried that, she'd nearly killed him, and so instead he let go of whatever inhibitions he had left.

        “No.”

        He inched closer, “then why do you still have it bandaged?” he whispered.

        “Just in case…” she breathed, her face still determinedly turned towards the horizon.

        “Just in case…” Nikolai exhaled, slowly trailing his finger up her arm from her wrist, all the way across her collar, dancing up her neck to her opposite cheek, gently pushing her chin towards him.

        She didn’t look up as he stepped even closer, but she didn’t turn her head away either. “Just in case.”

        “Just in case of what?” His lips hovered by her ear, and he shivered when she tilted her head, his lips barely brushing over the crescent of her cheek.

        Her eyelashes fluttered, ‘what was he doing to her?’ “Your highness.”

        As if he sensed what was about to happen, he pulled his head back, “yes?”

        “Leave,” she said, with lethal softness. It was the only way she could push the words out, the only way she could give herself a moment to breathe was if he left right now.

        “Zoya--”

        She closed her eyes, “leave, Nikolai. Now.” Cold air washed over her as Nikolai drew back, the sensation of his fingers trailing across her skin lingering for a second longer than he did, Nikolai taking the last bits of warmth away with him.

        Zoya heard her door close gently, and she knew was alone on the balcony. She bent backwards over the railing as a clap of thunder echoed through the night sky, noticing how the distant lightning almost electrified her bones as usual, but not today. The rain began to fall, washing away the tears gathered in her eyes. Feeling chilled to the bone, she took a heaving breath as she realized that she was alone again.

        She didn’t know how long she spent outside, she was so tired, not wanting to sleep but wanting a break. She wondered what it would be like, if she had given in, if she’d let herself and Nikolai be more brave. Zoya was on her knees now, her body too tired to stand. All she ever wanted to say when Nikolai left a room was, ‘ come back,’ but no amount of silent screaming would ever let her be heard by ears other than her own. She would live hundreds of lifetimes, but she didn’t think that she would ever feel this way again. Every breath in his presence felt like agony lately, but she didn’t want anything else. She wanted to spend her mornings arguing over herring, afternoons in meetings and teaching her students, evenings in front of the fire, writing correspondence and sharing her stories, finally hearing his. But he belonged to someone else, even if that person wasn’t known yet, one day Nikolai would be married to her and do all those things with someone who wasn’t Zoya. And she would have to accept that.

        The sinuous thoughts winding their way through her mind, reminding her of all that she could never have were interrupted just as abruptly as they had begun. A sudden warmth engulfed her, and she realized a soft blanket was being draped over her shoulders as she ran her fingers ran over the king’s emblem lining the edges. “I thought I told you to leave,” she said hoarsely, eyes flicking up to Nikolai, while the king settled down next to her, arms wrapped around his knees.

        “And I did.”

        “Yet here you are again,” she ground out.

        “Yet here I am again,” he replied. 'Why did he have to come back?' It was always harder to pull away when he came back. As if the Saints were determined to prove her point, Nikolai turned towards her, moonlight kissing the lines of his face, and Zoya longed to follow the outlines with her fingers, the hollow of his cheek, curve of his neck. She chided herself, those weren’t the thoughts of someone who was trying to create distance. But he made everything so hard, she’d tried to hate him, she’d tried to leave, she’d tried everything she could think of to prevent the inevitable disaster from happening, but tonight, she was too tired. She wanted to know, just once, what it would be like if she didn’t have to fight to keep each of her walls standing, wondered if it would give her peace.

        Zoya waited for a split second before she made up her mind. Before she could talk herself out of it, she shuffled over, until she bumped into Nikolai. He was quiet for a moment, then, so softly that she almost missed it, he spoke. “Stop shuffling around, Nazyalensky, otherwise the blanket is pointless.”

        She scoffed, “you’re pointless.”

        “Not your best,” he hummed. Nikolai lifted his hand, tugging the blanket securely into place under her chin, his fingers lingering for just a second too long. ‘To hell with it,’ Zoya thought, and she leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm curling around her almost instinctively.

        He paused again, “so, Nazyalensky...” he said, taking her hand in his.

        “Shut up.”

        “Make me,” he taunted, raising their intertwined hands and pressing his lips to her fingers.

        “Don’t think that I won’t,” she warned.

        Nikolai raised an eyebrow, “is that so?”

        Zoya surged up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before resting her head back on his shoulder, imaging the dumbfounded look on his face.

        “That took you long enough,” he muttered.

        “Not long enough.”

        Nikolai let out a laugh, pulling her closer, “how long are we planning on staying out here?”

        “Until I feel like going inside.”

        “When will that be?”

        “Whenever you learn to shut up.”

        “If that’s the case, I think we’ll be out here forever.”

        “Shut up, your highness.”

        “I quite liked it when you made me stop talking the first time. Perhaps you should do that again.”

        Zoya rolled her eyes at him, as she tried to hide the amused smile curling at her lips. "I don't think I will." But for all her talk, in the end, she did.

[edweenie]

"If you want something done, you gotta do it yourself" -Me, while writing RiDe fluff until 3am

Richtofen gazed upon the castle that he grew to enjoy over the past few months. At first he was a little hesitant about being here, but as time went by, he actually had ended up enjoying it- well, as much as he could, anyway. Other than the typical zombie hoards and the constant gnawing of hunger in his stomach, the trip to Austria hadn’t been so bad overall. Though, the cold nights were also a pain in the-

“Hey, Doc?”

Richtofen spun around to the sound of the familiar voice of his American friend.

“What is it, Dempsey?”

“Did I interrupt you muttering to yourself?”

Richtofen crossed his arms.

“I may have a couple loose screws, but I definitely don’t talk to myself!”

Tank rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his face.

“I don’t!”

The Marine ignored him. “Anyways, Doc. You told me we could talk later, so…” Tank raised his eyebrows. “...Now’s a good time?”

Damn it. That’s right. 

Dempsey’s been asking to talk to the German for close to a week now, and every effort has been in vain. Richtofen was terrified of the Marine, however, it never used to be like this. Ever since, back in Germany,  he’d catch himself starring for a second too long, or his stomach turning when he walked past and was able to get a subtle whiff of the American man’s unique scent. And he hoped to God he didn’t remember when Tank had kissed him on the cheek that one time they all got a tad intoxicated… 

He didn’t want Dempsey to notice how he has been acting, though he probably already did. This ‘talk’ is probably Dempsey telling Richtofen to back off. To not be so creepy. He didn’t know what suddenly had gotten a hold of him. It was not like the German to grow feelings for someone, especially so soon. After all, this isn’t highschool. There’s no time or place for puny little crushes.

“Nein, Dempsey. I’m an extremely busy man. Please, go bother Takeo.”

Richtofen made a shooing motion with his hand and proceeded to walk in the opposite direction. 

“Oh, come the hell on, Richtofen!”

Tank picked up a wad of snow before packing it into a ball and throwing it towards the Germans back. Without even a flinch after hitting him spot on, Richtofen’s figure slowly faded into the distance, while Tank stood there with his arms crossed, kicking the snow on the ground. 

“He can be such a little bastard. Who does he think he is, acting all high and mighty when…” Tank cupped his hands around his mouth. “EVERYBODY HERE HATES HIM!” he yelled. 

*Later That Night*

The fire felt so warm against the pale skin of the doctor…

This was always the most peaceful time, when they’d all gather around the fire and eat together, clean their guns, and sometimes talk over the events of the day. Nikolai and Dempsey would always have something to say, whether it was them complaining about the meal or arguing about who killed more zombies. Once you looked past the annoyance of the two, Richtofen and Takeo found themselves, more often than not, chuckling at their behavior. 

“...and then there came out big Russian bear-  at least nine feet tall, with razor sharp claws.”

“What’d you do, Nik? Climb up his back and slit his throat?” Dempsey questioned, sarcasm in his voice as if he didn’t believe the story to begin with.

“Not even close! I kept him as pet.” Nikolai said, matter-of-factly. 

The three chuckled.

“I don’t know why you laugh, this is true story. I had him for three years.”

“Okay, Nik. Whatever you say.”

They continued eating among the warmth of the fire, sprouting comments here and there.

Dempsey sat up and stretched, overexaggerating his groan. 

“Well, friends, I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” He said, walking away from the group. “If you need me, don’t.”

After some more time by the fire, the other three men decided to rest as well. Richtofen cleaned all of the cans up while Nikolai and Takeo put out the fire and made sure everything was back in place. 

“I’ll talk to you two tomorrow,” Richtofen said, waving goodnight.

“Goodnight, doctor.” Takeo waved.

*

Richtofen stood by his door, hands on his hips. 

“Do you think it’s funny, American? Do you think it’s funny to annoy me?”

Tank sat there, at the doctors own desk, leaning back in his chair and looking up at him with raised eyebrows and his right leg casually crossed over his left. 

“Do you think it’s funny to constantly blow me off?”

Richtofen let out a single and exaggerated ‘ha’.

“Blow you off? Americans can be so daft! I told you I was busy. Why don’t you run off to bed like you said you were going to, hm? Or does the big bad Marine need to be tucked in?”

“I ain’t going anywhere until you talk to me.”

“Get out before you really piss me off!”

Tank sat up and began to raise his voice. “Talk to me before you piss me off!”

Richtofen kicked the desk. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” he practically screamed, his voice echoing throughout the stone walls. 

Tank sat there, looking up at the German’s bulging veins and red face. 

“Why are you so angry?” Tank questioned, almost in a whisper. “I just wanted to talk to you.” the American stood up, moving so fast the chair behind him fell backwards. “No wonder nobody here trusts you.” and with that, Tank walks past the German while purposely shoving him with the side of his body. 

**

Richtofen sighed. He’d been tossing and turning for hours. Though struggling with insomnia is a normal occurrence for the doctor, this time was different. He genuinely felt bad for the American. He slowly sat up and began putting on his boots. He knew where Tank normally slept, so he decided to take a walk and ‘accidentally’ run into his sleeping quarters, (with the subtle hopes of him being asleep so he didn’t have to face the man.)

But sure enough, as he walked by the small cell that Dempsey made his cozy living space, he was wide awake, leaned back against the wall with a freshly lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

Richtofen laughed awkwardly. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

Dempsey slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I slept fine. Just woke up outta nowhere.”

Richtofen started walking closer, eventually stopping about five feet away from his comrade and taking a seat. He sighed, “Look, Demps-”

“I get it, Doc.”

Richtofen looked up at him, puzzled.

“Excuse me?”

“I get it. You’re stressed, you’re confused. You’re under a lot of pressure, and I get it.” Tank took another slow inhale of the cigarette, then proceeded to blow out the smoke. Richtofen’s eyes lit up. “De-”

“But don’t you dare take that frustration out on me for wanting to talk to you.”

Richtofen sighed and looked down at his legs. He was truly ashamed for the way he’d been acting, but he could never in a million years tell Tank why.

Dempsey gestured at the cigarette. “Need a puff?”

“No, thank you.” Richtofen said, twiddling with his thumbs. “I am… truly sorry.” He looked up at the American and met eyes with him. “Truly, truly sorry, Dempsey.”

 

The Marine smirked and stuck the cigarette into the concrete, tossing the butt to the side. 

“I’m free now, if you’d like to talk,” he said, chuckling awkwardly again.

Tank exhaled.

“I just wanted to tell you…”

Richtofen clenched. Here we go. The American’s bright blue eyes met Richtofen's soft green ones, as he met him with a delicate smile.

“I’ve seen how hard you’re working to keep us all on the right track. We’ve all noticed. Whether we trust you or not, that’s another thing. But don’t think we don’t see how much you try…” Tank crossed his arms. “But don’t think I’ve gone soft on ya. I just dont want me to be the one you murder when you turn your back on us.” He winked, and Richtofen chuckled.

“If I were to murder anyone, it’d be that damned Nikolai.”

“Is that a promise, Doc?”

“Oh, it’s a swear.”

They both chuckled, and Richtofen began to feel uneasy, remembering the whole reason he was scared to communicate with Dempsey in the beginning. The feelings were inappropriate… and they were beginning to creep up on the German again. Richtofen hastily got up and began to dust himself off, “Well, nice talk, thank you for your words, but I should really get to bed.”

Tank got up too. “I don’t think you’ll have much time to sleep.” he yawned.

“Ah, it’s always like this.”

Tank slowly stepped in and wrapped his arms around the tired German’s neck, squeezing him almost too hard and practically forcing Richtofen forward. The German, at that moment, was flooded with more emotions than he ever had felt before. What is going on with Dempsey?

Now that Richtofen thought about it, ever since he’d taken the other Dempsey’s soul, he had started acting strange. After the initial cold shoulder towards the German, he almost began acting as if he cares less about what happens to him… like he’d already accepted this was his fate. No- this was not their fate. They would live to see a better tomorrow. Richtofen finally hugged Tank back, even tighter. He ignored the voices in his head telling him he was making a mistake. He needed this, and Dempsey needed this too. He practically felt tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “We will make it out of here, Dempsey. You just have to…” Richtofen choked back the tears that needed so desperately to flow. “...trust me.”

Tank squeezed tighter. 

“I’ll trust you.”

[filo-academia]

for the writers ask, K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with? tyy :)

Thanks for the ask! 

This is hard, actually, since my brain is already so wacky with memories at a young age of 20. (This is what mental illnesses do to you.) So I’ll try my best to remember my ideas. Forgetfulness is a never-ending loop where I forget my ideas because I also forget to write them down. 

Trigger warnings: murder, suicide 

I feel like I sound so repetitive on this idea because it always lives rent-free in my head. But I’ll never get tired of thinking that if Nikolai will kill Fyodor, he wouldn’t be able to take the brunt of it. There’s something heart-wrenching, vulnerably revealing, and irrevocably exposed when regrets and emotions hit Nikolai head-on right after he’d actually done it. 

Of course, there’s the option of killing himself later on because his whole point in it all is escaping the mortal mind. Right when he takes the brunt, suicide is the sweet escape. But I always like to imagine that he would be captured before he’d be able to do it and I think Ability-users’ prisons e.g, Mersault is possibly particular in suppressing Abilities especially as something as elusive as Nikolai’s. 

So he’d have to sit with the strongest regret for the rest of his life. It will keep gnawing on him, pestering him to a point of insanity. There was this little analysis about the parallels of Diary Of The Madman and Nikolai Gogol’s character in BSD where it pointedly said, among many other interesting points (so go give it a read), that killing Fyodor would be equivalent to  Poprishchin’s ripping the letter, the key/onslaught/signifier of his total madness in the story. Honestly, being supported by that meta just makes this idea of mine hit harder for me. 

- Jai (I forgot to put my name tag in every ask) 

Fanfic asks

[diabolicxl]

Sunrise

DATE ❦ December 29th, 2018 LOCATION ❦ Lake Harmony, Ashbourne. WORDCOUNT ❦ 4,451 TRIGGERS ❦ Drowning SUMMARY ❦ Philippe meets Kolya so he can keep him company as the vampire watches the sunrise for the first time in seventy years.

The tree set up at the center of town square was sizeable, but what caught his sight were the colorful lights that decorated it, flickering in and out of view like fireflies, attached to no source of power. There were all sorts of decorations hung on the tree however, from hand sewn felt ornaments to hanging figurines and the more traditional Christmas balls. Few were the people left around to appreciate the view as the light of day approached and even the nightwalkers were driven back into their homes. 

Philippe checked his wristwatch to make sure he was in time, then pocketed his hands and looked around Kolya. He no longer wore that hideous ugly sweater from earlier, but a button up shirt and a coat to keep himself from growing colder. The weather didn’t affect vampires as much as it did the living, but he did prefer not to feel marble cold. A few steps around the quietening square and he spotted Nikolai in the distance. He looked particularly excited --- or was it worried? --- by the prospect of facing the sunlight. 

 He met him halfway, taking the time to assess the change of clothes. “The only good thing about ugly Christmas sweaters is that they only happen once a year.” Philippe came to a stop in front of him and smiled. “Are you ready to see the sun?” Those words were often presented as a threat to vampires, but in this case they were genuine. Philippe couldn’t remember the last time he went seventy years without a daylight ring. He hoped that never happened to Nikolai again.

It had taken Kolya all of thirty seconds to decide that the best way to cleanse himself of any lingering embarrassment over having waltzed around in that ugly sweater was to make up for it by reminding himself and everyone else with eyes that he did, in fact, still have just as much taste as ever. As a result, he’d ended up dressed a little higher class than one might have needed to be for a visit to the town square, but at least he felt more himself, dressed in pants made of a fitted gold fabric, dark boots and a black jacket with what was perhaps an excess of shiny gold detailing. But gold was appropriate for viewing the sun, wasn’t it? 

Upon catching sight of Philippe, naturally the first thing he’d done was inspect what the other vampire was wearing as well. Considerably more flattering than what he’d been in earlier. Kolya made his way over to him, gave a slight wave in greeting. “The bad thing about that is that it gives me an entire year to figure out how to make the next pair even worse than the last,” He teased, offering a smile in return. Kolya removed his right hand from his pocket and looked down at it, tilting it back and forth and watching as his daylight ring reflected what faint light it managed to catch. “Yes,” He said. “I am. Well, mostly. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little…” He shrugged and gnawed on his lower lip for a second before he tore his gaze from the ring and looked back up at Philippe. “I know there are tons of vampires that walk in the sun every day, and maybe it’s not supposed to feel like such a big deal, but it feels like a milestone. And… reaching this milestone doesn’t feel so much like turning a page as it does opening an entirely new book. Does that make sense?”

He almost felt underdressed at the sight of him, though the feeling didn't linger for more than a second or two and he appreciated the view. Nikolai would've been beautiful even without the aid of his perfectly fitted apparel, if the earlier look was anything to go by, but this did help. Philippe grimaced at the threat, "I just realized I'll be busy next Christmas." The words were followed by a teasing smile. 

 There was a certain hesitation in the air. For a moment Philippe wondered whether the other vampire worried the ring wouldn't work. He wouldn't be the first to doubt its power. "It is a big deal." He frowned. "I have given Henryk five years, but it took me decades to get my own. Back then it was much more difficult to get a hold of a witch who was both willing and capable to make you one." 

 Philippe motioned around them, to the shadows and the darkness. "You make perfect sense, Nikolai. The night can be a prison too, and it will not keep you anymore. You will enjoy writing this book." He creased his forehead, averting his gaze from the vampire. "Maybe we should a better setting for the first page, no? How about the lakeside?"

"Too busy for me?" Kolya questioned, feigning shock. He flattened a palm over his heart and failed to completely hide his amused grin. "Philippe, you wound me. I don't know if I'm capable of recovering from such a vicious blow." He sighed, and then a smirk spread across his face. "Well... it's alright. If that's the case, I'll just have to make us matching Halloween costumes." 

The fact that Philippe seemed to know what Kolya meant came as a relief, and his shoulders lost a little of the tension they'd been carrying. He listened quietly as Philippe spoke of how hard it had been to get his own first daylight ring. "Can I ask... what it was like for you? Were you afraid?" He searched Philippe's face. "What did you feel your first time in the sun as a vampire?"

Kolya could have counted the number of times he'd ever been told that he made perfect sense on one hand. Maybe with one finger, even, and though it was just a small reassurance it warmed him. Philippe understood. "I have a feeling I will," he said, and smiled, just a soft curve of the lips. "The lakeside sounds perfect." Kolya tucked his hands into his pockets and sent one last glance at the tree, running his fingers along the little felt star ornament he'd stolen from it earlier. Something nobody would miss, a small little memento from the night he'd kissed his years stuck in perpetual darkness goodbye. Maybe not all endings were bad. He turned and offered Philippe a smile. "Shall we?"

The dramatic acting amused him, but it was only the threat of a matching Halloween costume that drew a huffed out chuckle out of him. He was impossible. 

 "I suppose I was." Creasing his forehead, Philippe revisited his memories. So much had become a blur of emotion. Actions were erased within time, but how you felt clung to you through the centuries. "It was a long time ago, when the world was still riddled with ignorant superstition. I knew there were daywalkers among us, but I found it hard to trust." He threw him a look. “I had to give it a try though, how could I not? And it felt incredible, like conquering death. Again.” Philippe lifted his hand to glance down at his daylight ring one more time, making sure it was still there. “Such a small thing, and it eliminates our biggest threat.” 

Matching the vampire’s smile, he joined him on his walk towards Lake Harmony. “We shall.” The daylight touching the skin of the water would look beautiful. It occurred him that that’d be his first dawn in Ashbourne too. A few months in the dark already felt like penance, Clio had done Kolya a disservice. “How do you think this will affect your routine?” Philippe knew he took the late night shifts at A Stitch in Time so he didn’t expect any radical changes.

Kolya averted his eyes, avoiding Philippe’s gaze as he spoke of ignorant superstition. He gave a wry grin, a slight, embarrassed flush staining his cheeks. “I suppose I’m… a little wary of the idea. Putting so much trust in a witch, specifically.” Like conquering death. Again. Kolya glanced at Philippe and wondered what the story behind that was, but it was hardly polite to ask someone how they’d died. He was, in fact, capable of controlling the things that came out of his mouth- most of the time, he just didn’t choose to bother doing so. 

“I’m not sure,” Kolya admitted. “My life has revolved around the night for so long now. I’ve missed the sun… but I guess I grew used to the idea that it just wasn’t a part of my life some time ago. I don’t know what will change. Most vampire customers come in at night, and my boss seems to think that I’m the least likely to be eaten by them,” he joked. “I’ll still work at night, but the rest of the time… I’ll probably shuffle things around. Routine gets boring.” He shot a glance at Philippe. “I think about running my own business sometimes,” Kolya confided quietly. “Opening a shop. That way I’d be my own boss and I’d have all the spotlight to myself. But it’s such a small town, and tailoring isn’t exactly the most thriving business ever. I don’t know how well trying to compete with an already established business would go.” He shook his head. “What about you, though? Got any big plans for what you’ll do in the daylight?”

Conversation made the trek to the lake pass by easily enough. The water was beautiful even now, and Kolya could only imagine what it would look like with the rising sun painting the surface a myriad of hues. He wandered close to the water, not enough to get his boots wet but enough to observe it. Someday he’d go swimming in it, when the setting was different and the weather was warmer, but for now the urge to strip down and climb in was just a fleeting one. “How much longer do you think it will be?” He whispered, looking up at the sky as if searching for a sign. He was still nervous, a set of butterflies swarming in his stomach, but Philippe’s company helped.

“Oh,” the vampire nodded and his expression melted into a warmer smile, “I see. It is true that vampires have been fooled by witches in the past, but that wouldn’t happen here.” He threw him a quick glance. “Not to you.” Kolya was far too likable to pick a fight with a witch, he was sure there was nothing to worry about. If it’d been a hateful creature like a certain Orphan vampire he knew, Philippe would understand the hesitation, but it didn’t seem like Kolya posed any threat to the witches. Kolya should be fine. 

Still, he reached for him to plant a hand on his nape into a supportive gesture. “Trust me then. If anything happens, I will move you away from the sun.” He didn’t think that would be at all necessary, but if it was, he was willing to put in the effort. 

“Routine does get dreadfully boring.” Philippe let out a heavy sigh. It was the most sickening thing about Ashbourne, its stillness. “If you need a head start, I could always eat your boss.” He barely contained the amusement at the corner of his lips. “Eliminate the competition.” Philippe made a pause as he mulled over his own predicament. “I like to wake up at noon, give up a little of the night for the sun. I suppose that will always depend on how interesting the evening turns out to be.” 

As they walked, he watched the lake fall under their line of sight. The water was still, as if keeping secrets from them. “Lakes always remind me of that tale about the woman who fell in love with the moon, do you know it?” He came to a stop, watching as Kolya wandered closer to the edge of the water, and took off his coat to set it down on the floor before taking a seat. “It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes now.”

It wasn’t often that anyone asked Kolya to trust them. Not with any level of seriousness, at least, and rarely did Kolya ever truly, fully give it. The words caught him off guard and so did the hand touching the back of his neck. Not in a bad way, if the slight discoloration that stained Kolya’s cheeks was to be any indication. It was just a friendly touch, he reminded himself, a reassurance, but oh, he liked having Philippe’s hand there. Kolya shot the man a look, and if his eyes were half- lidded when he did so- well, that was entirely out of his control. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll trust you.” Simple words, but nothing more was needed. Sometimes simplicity fit better than extravagance or excess. There were half a dozen stupid little jokes he could have made, too, something about hoping Philippe was a man of his word or about being glad for their proximity to the water in case Kolya went up in flames, but this moment, whatever it was or might be, would slip away soon enough. Kolya didn’t want to break it prematurely. 

Despite the scandalous, gory nature of Philippe’s next offer, Kolya couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, if you’re going to eat anyone, you might as well choose the most productive option, right?” He threw back. Prone as he was to having a rather tense view of competition, he’d never viewed murder as a solution. “That sounds like a good way to do it... get the best of both worlds.” Kolya couldn’t picture himself wanting to spend his time beneath only the sun or only the moon, at this point. Maybe he’d try and split his time between the two as well, as much as he could, at least.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it. Will you tell me?” Kolya requested. He watched Philippe spread his jacket on the ground with mild horror, and bit down on his lower lip as he made his way closer. One jacket in this equation was a lost cause already, might as well capitalize off it as much as he could. “Don’t laugh,” He requested as he came to a stop, though he was nearly laughing at himself as he did so. He wasn’t unaware of the fact that he was high maintenance when it came to such matters, but at least he could own up to it. He held up one finger as he spoke. “I don’t want to get my pants dirty, but I’d sooner stake myself than sit on this jacket. It’s new. I’ve been working on it for weeks. Yours is already grimy, now, so… can I convince you to scoot over and share? Pretty please?”

There was something very real about the way he looked at him when he promised to trust him. Philippe wasn’t blind to the vampire’s interest, but made use of what little self-control he had to keep himself from hurting Kolya. He didn’t make it any easier by looking at him like he’d like to be kissed though. Averting his eyes, he watched the dragonflies kiss the skin of the lake as he listened to the vampire’s colorful laughter. “I never miss out on the chance to solve two problems at once,” he offered, playful, and matched his expression with an amused smile. 

It was not all that uncommon that he’d grown closer to the vampire in such a short span of time, but he supposed he had been more… honest with him than most. To a disconcerting extent at times. “It worked for me when I lived in Louisiana.” Another detail that was better off left unsaid. 

“There was a woman locked in a tower who grew mad. She fell in love with the moon and, when she saw its reflection in the water, she threw herself from the tower and drowned.” Philippe looked at him to see whether the story had saddened him. “I think about it every time I see the lake, I’m not sure why.” 

It was his turn to laugh, and the almost foreign sound crawled up his throat and spilled out. “Please, join me,” he said and scooted over to make room for him. “You can warm me up. I did sacrifice my jacket.” In the distance, the sky started to change color, clearing as the sunlight peaked from behind the canopies of the woods.

Kolya watched Philippe until he looked away, and even then his eyes lingered, a slight crooked grin crossing his face before disappearing as he looked back at the path ahead of them. Interesting. “Resourceful, hm? That’s a good trait to have,” Kolya said, and nudged him lightly with an elbow, and then he shook his head. “A tried and true tactic, then. Philippe the Boss- Devourer. You know I have to ask about Louisiana now… what job was it for?” He asked, as incapable of choking back his insatiable curiosity as ever. Philippe had yet to seem bothered by it, at least. Kolya wanted to learn about his history, wanted to hear about all the little events that had turned him into who he was now in addition to the bigger ones. “You don’t have a job here in Ashbourne, do you? What sort of things have you done in the past? I’ve only ever notably been a tailor. I mean… pickpocketing, petty theft, busking, odd jobs for money… but I don’t think those count the same way designing and making clothes does.” 

Kolya stayed silent as he considered the story. It had taken a turn he hadn’t expected and it left him feeling rather melancholy and introspective, but he didn’t regret having asked. It was something he’d think about later, something he’d turn over in his mind and examine again and again, a story that would stick. It made his head spin, not only trying to understand it now, but trying to decipher what Philippe thought the story meant as well

Kolya grinned as Philippe laughed, completely ignoring his warning not to do so. Kolya found he didn’t mind in the slightest. Worth it, to draw that sound out of him. “Thank you,” He said, taking a seat on the jacket and pressing close, willing to give all the warmth he possessed. Maybe being a vampire was counterproductive to such a task, but he’d do his best. He pressed his side against Philippe’s, and after thinking about it for no more than a second he lifted one hand up to rest right below the other man’s shoulder blade, not quite an embrace, but almost. He let his thoughts return to that story of the woman and the moon. “What do you think it means?” Kolya asked, voice hushed. “...I suppose we all have something we’d drown for,” He whispered, staring at the surface of the water. All or nothing. What was the point if you had nothing in your life you wanted badly enough to risk death for? What worth was there in a passionless existence? “Do you think she was very different from Icarus?” He thought aloud, voice still soft. “Except… I suppose the difference is that Icarus was warned. Don’t fly too close to the sun.” He stared at the water for a moment longer before looking at Philippe. “But he was warned not to fly too far from it, either. Not to fly too low.” He fell quiet again, his eyes on Philippe for a long moment before they went back to the water.

He kept his eyes trained on the scenery, growing transfixed by the sky, the way the dark of the night slowly bled away and gave way to streaks of color that began painting the horizon. Night had shades as well, but not like this, not so bright that it looked foreign, blues and pinks and oranges and yellows, a myriad of hues broken up by the sharp, skeletal lines of tree limbs with the glassy surface of the lake reflecting it all. Kolya’s lips parted, his fingers unconsciously curling in the fabric of Philippe’s shirt. It looked too gorgeous to be real, hypnotic in a way no work of art could imitate. There were no words to adequately describe the display. Eventually, with a wide, breathless grin slowly taking over his entire face, Kolya found the presence of mind to glance at the man beside him, wanting to see if Philippe was just as awestruck by the rising sun as he was.

Philippe turned to look at him with brows furrowed in confusion, though he couldn't hide the appreciative smile on his face. "I meant the schedule, but I suppose the murder too." He breathed out a short chuckle, then his expression melted into a pensive one. Avoiding the subject of Louisiana would only make matters worse. "I worked as a Councilman for the Queen in Louisiana, but most of the work I did was investigative. There was someone in town killing vampires and she needed someone to handle it." He wouldn't mention the fact she had requested him to spy on his fellow members of the Council too. "Prior to her request, however, I have only focused on Research. Witchcraft." He threw Kolya an amused once-over. "Petty theft? Who are you?" 

The tale was followed by silence and for a moment he wondered whether it'd been too melancholic a subject to bring up in the presence of a Cupiditas. "Icarus was an arrogant fool. He was greedy. Hers was a simple tragedy, a mad woman who did not know what she was doing. Despair," Philippe decided. "I can't say I know what it means, but it stays with you. I suppose we are all afraid to want something so badly we might drown." 

He watched Kolya as he looked into the horizon, drinking in every color that painted the sky. His lips parted, it seemed like his breath had been taken out of his lungs and he barely noticed. The light shone in his eyes with such a childish, innocent wonder, such a mesmering look, it brought a genuine smile to Philippe's face. During the sunrise, they were not as cold as the melting snow, at least not Kolya anyway. The sunlight poured in and out of him and he looked more alive than ever in the glow of the warm yellow sunrise. He looked away only when his gaze was caught staring, and he moved his eyes to watch the sun climb on to the sky from behind the canopies of the woods that surrounded Ashbourne. "Isn't it worth risking a little sunburn?"

“Oh,” Kolya said, and grinned, somewhat embarrassed that he’d misunderstood. “Well, that makes more sense, I guess. I just had boss- eating on the brain.” He remembered when they’d first met, Philippe had told him he was sixteen centuries old. That was a long, long time to have dedicated to witchcraft. Who are you? A big question, one Kolya hardly knew the answer to himself sometimes. He wasn’t the same person he’d been seventy years ago, wasn’t even the same person he’d been twenty years ago. He doubted Philippe had meant it as anything more than a passing joke where the petty theft was concerned, though, and that made it easier to come up with a reply. He shrugged. “Someone who survived,” He answered. “Clio had her work cut out for her when she turned me, getting me to be all domesticized.” Russian gutters in the twenties made for wild boys. 

Philippe’s description of Icarus twisted Kolya’s mouth into an amused grin. “I suppose you’re right,” He said, though he wasn’t sure at all whether that was where his own thoughts on the matter truly lied. It was something he wanted to sit and contemplate for another twenty minutes, the woman and the lake, Icarus and the sea and the sun. As he stared at the open water, he thought that he, too, would likely think of that story every time he saw the lake from now on. Maybe the only way to truly understand her madness and the story was to experience it for yourself- after all, she wasn’t around to give any explanations. 

Philippe looked away, but Kolya allowed his own gaze to linger for a moment, appreciating the way the rising sun illuminated his face, the way he looked against the backdrop of the early morning winter sky. “More than worth it,” He agreed quietly. “Thank you, Philippe. For encouraging me to take that risk, and for being here with me to see it."

Philippe hadn't given much thought to the person Kolya had been before he became who he is now. It sounded like it'd been a mistake. A wild young boy growing up to be as sweet as Kolya sounded like a delightful tale for another time. He smiled. "I am sure she never regretted that." A Cupiditas could hardly have, and he supposed his company was just aware of that as himself. 

The other vampire kept quiet, but he didn't seem terribly melancholic. Philippe had given him something to think about, and hopefully it wouldn't be entirely saddening. The tale was as beautiful as it was tragic. That was the allure of love, was it not? Potentially deadly, but oh so enjoyable too. 

"Someone had to make sure you didn't postpone this for another day." He watched his brown hair take on golden hues when it caught the light. Philippe could almost see it, the moment Kolya decided he looked better in the sunlight. The idea made him widen his smile into a grin and he bit back a laugh. "The morning is very bright and still. It feels like there is nothing else out there, doesn't it?" Turning to watch the light shimmering on the surface of the water, he added, "If you are not too tired, let's stay here for a while, yes?"

“And that I didn’t burst into flames,” Kolya pitched in, because that had been a valid fear. It did feel a little silly in retrospect, now that it was no longer a concern, but you just never knew. He followed Philippe’s gaze back to the lake and smiled. “It does,” he agreed. The world was quiet, and if Kolya were to close his eyes he could believe that it was empty save for himself and the man at his side. For the first time he could remember since he’d arrived in this town months ago, Kolya didn’t feel trapped. He smiled, and when he spoke, his voice was soft. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”