#Sergei and Ivan are mentioned only

[kinomiya]

"things you said after it was over" tala and bryan

Is it cruel of me to put this out on Valentine’s Day? 

#justangstwriterproblems

The front door slammed, causing the house to shake slightly as Boris stomped through the entryway of the small apartment into the living area, his dirty boots tracking snow across the hardwood floors. He peeled off his leather jacket, throwing it aggressively onto the sofa before a figure sitting in an old worn chair caught his eye.

“What are you doing here, Yuriy?” Boris asked, a tired sigh escaped his lips as he gave the intruder and unconvincing glower.

He took a drink of the beer he had helped himself to, causing Boris to frown at Yuriy’s audacity. They hadn’t seen each other in over six months, at times they had been so contentious their mutual friends had been forced to split their time between them like children going through the painful, bitter, divorce of their parents.

“I had nothing better to do, figured I’d finally bring back all the shit you left at my place.” Yuriy said, slouching back in the chair and forcing Boris into an uncomfortable and direct eye contact.

“And why didn’t you just dump it on the floor and leave?” Boris asked, gritting his teeth, thinking whatever items Yuriy was returning now were better destined for the trash then returned, forever tarnished by painful memories that he’d sooner forget.

Boris heard his sharp inhale and cocked an eyebrow slightly, before finally moving from where he’d stopped upon discovering the intruder and grabbing himself a drink from the fridge and dropping into the old sofa across from Yuriy, waiting for a response.

“I thought maybe we… could talk?” Yuriy eventually replied, his voice was strained and slightly shaky.

“About what?” Boris asked, channeling the anger rising in his chest into twisting the cap off his beer. He heard the shaky exhale as Yuriy suppressed an irritated laugh,

“Everyone else is miserable because of us.” Yuriy spoke, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice and the scowl on his face.

“Astute observation, Yura, can’t believe you managed to get your head out of your own ass long enough to notice other people's suffering! That’s some real character development!” Boris replied sarcastically, dopamine flooded him as he watched Yuriy’s eyes narrow and his grip on the glass bottle tighten.

He had some nerve showing up here to talk about the suffering they were causing everyone when it was him who would fall off the face of the earth for months at a time in an attempt to run away from the shadows that kept him awake at night. 

Everyone else had started the healing process years ago, it was only Yuriy, only his fucking hubris, that had refused to be helped.

“I deserve that.” Came the soft reply, and when Boris’ vision refocused on the man sitting across from him the irritation had vanished off his face, replaced with a pensive look. This was new, he thought.

“Yeah you sure fucking do.” Boris said, not hiding his pleasure at Yuriy’s admission, it felt like their first step forward in a decade, like maybe, finally, the stubborn asshole was making some progress.

“Anyway… I was hoping maybe we could try to put an end to the aggression between us so that the others aren’t constantly walking on eggshells and scheduling shit to make sure we don’t catch sight of one another.” Yuriy spoke thoughtfully, and Boris recalled how he had loved how he looked when he was focused on something, how the way his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched used to evoke a fluttery sensation in his chest. Only now, the same sight made him feel nothing.

“Yeah sure, but only if you’re going to try too, and not just expect me to be your fucking doormat or whatever.” Boris replied flippantly after some thought, he figured it would be in poor taste to refuse the olive branch being offered.

“So how about we uh, all hang out this Saturday instead of the weird split custody thing we’ve been doing?” Yuriy inquired, tapping a fingernail against the glass of the bottle he’d barely touched since Boris had come through the door, before the other man could reply he’d continue, disinterestedly: “As a test run or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Boris agreed, shifting on the sofa as the conversation began to make him feel restless. As if reading the room, Yuriy glanced at his watch before getting to his feet, prompting Boris to raise his eyebrow slightly before asking: “Leaving so soon?”

“I have plans this evening.” Was the simple reply as Yuriy moved across the room to retrieve his jacket from the otherwise empty coat rack by the door.

“Are you insane? What the hell are you doing going out on Valentine's D—“ Oh he thought: “—You’ve met someone.” Boris concluded, watching as Yuriy straightened his back

“I have.” He replied simply, not turning to look at the man on the sofa behind him.

“Neat.” Boris said awkwardly, his eyes staring at the other man's back as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how in the past few months both Sergei and Ivan had commented that Yuriy seemed healthier, happier, and more cognizant lately.

“I’ll see you Saturday.” Yuriy's voice came from the door as he looked back at Boris, his hand resting on the already turned handle, waiting to push it open and make his exit.

“See you Saturday.” Boris confirmed with a slight nod as he watched the man look away from him and retreat from the tiny apartment.

Boris remained frozen for a moment, before leaning forward, setting the bottle on the floor and resting his head in his hands. He exhaled loudly, a bitter laugh followed as his hands twisted into fists pulling at his hair slightly. It was complicated, it was stupid, he was happy, he was agonized.

Their relationship had been long beyond reconciliation, every altercation between them had just further driven a resentful wedge between them, and it had started long before it had ended. By the time it was finally over, there was nothing left to salvage from the charred remains of their relationship, Boris hadn’t even been sure he’d ever be able to look Yuriy in the face again without wanting to put him in the hospital or worse. And it all had come from one thing, they had all moved forward and Yuriy had remained the same, unwilling to change, unwilling to be helped, always fucking unwilling.

And yet, at some point while Boris was consumed with overwhelming animosity towards his once best friend, and completely blinded by his disdain for everything Yuriy had ruined, their friends had began to comment that things seemed different, that he was disappearing less, that he was drinking less, that he was more himself again, and Boris had ignorantly thought, it was just wishful thinking from two people desperate not to watch someone they loved die. 

Because he had been there, he had seen it at its worst, behind closed doors and away from everyone else, he had watched the vestiges of their past consume Yuriy and turn him into an empty shell with no future but pain and death, and no desire to escape it.

But something had changed, while Boris was avoiding Yuriy, consumed by rage and regret he had failed to notice that someone else had appeared, who without any second thought jumped right into the madness and chaos of Yuriy’s inner world and steadfast and stubbornly remained until he was able to finally reach him and take his hand and pull him out of the nightmare that had consumed his every waking moment.

And Boris was happy, relieved even, that Yuriy had finally found something, someone, that he felt was worth fighting for…

But damn if it didn’t hurt that that thing hadn’t been him.

[linkspooky]

Somehow the connection between Dazai being called "Demon Prodigy" and Fyodor being refered to as a "Demon" like clicked inside my brain but I can't really put a finger on what is it supposed to mean wondering if you've got any thoughts about it?

Sorry for the long wait anon, your question was so good it needed a longer more detailed response. Dazai and Dostoevsky are both referred to as "Demons" because of the shared themes in the literature works the characters are inspired by. Dostoevsky published a book called "Demons" (or the Possessed) and in Dazai's case it's his seminal work No Longer Human. What is a demon, but the opposite of a human being?

The shared theme is that these are both existentialist novels (Dostoevsky's works are existential as a whole). Of course the connection between the two characters is probably inspired by the fact Dazai name drops Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment in No Longer Human. However the use of the word Demon itself to describe both Dostoevsky and Dazai most likely comes from Demons / The Possessed.

Demons is also called "the possessed", because the novel is about nihilism as a political movement moving through Russia at the time. For Dostoevsky the "Demons" in this context refers to the ideas which possess people, especially political ideas and how easily people can become swept up in those political ideas and political movements to the point where they are acting like something else is possessing their bodies.

The reason I waited until this chapter to start working on this meta was this set of panels exactly.

In a desperate move Dostoevsky prepares to be possessed by his ability acting as an evil personality inside of him like a split personality disorder, in order to trick Sigma and regain the advantage against him. He then proceeds to go "Ha ha, fooled you." While I believe that Dostoevsky is not suffering from a split personality (that was the lie) he is in a way possessed by his ideals like how real life author Dostoevsky was discussing in the book demons itself.

Demons was written in response to a young radical Sergey Necahyev and his followers murdered a former comrade Ivan Ivanov. It's a novel specifically written to counter people who are pushed into radical extremes for their ideals. The events of the novel itself depict a revolution Pyotr as the cause of a radical political movement that not only engulfs the town, but ends up killing most of the named characters in the story. Pyotr's biggest action in the novel is to murder a man named Shatov in the hopes of creating a big political storm, and wishes to make one character Stavogrin the face of his revolution, while another character Kirilov the scapegoat he blames the murder of Shatov on. Kirilov himself is a nihilist who seeks to kill himself in order to answer the question of whether god exists or not by becoming god. (This makes sense I promise). In simpler terms because I don't want to analyze the whole novel Kirilov is killing himself in order to prove a philosophical point because he considers taking your own life to be the ultimate expression of his will.

"If God does not exist" according to Kirillov, "then all will is mine, and I am obliged to proclaim self-will."

This is obviously connected to both Dostoevsky and Dazai who's ideals are suicidal in nature, and are willing to become a sacrifice for those ideals. I doubt I need to establish Dazai is suicidal. Did you know Dazai is suicidal he only talks about it constantly. Dostoevsky may be a harder sell because he never mentions it explicitly.

In Chapter 105.5 he refers to Dazai's death trap as a trial sent by god.

"Having said that it is true we were placed in great danger. The trial of the flooding is one fit for a subordinate of god like myself."

Obviously biblical representations are obvious, but referring to a situation where he nearly dies as a "trial" makes his relationship with god that of a martyr suffering for their religion. And Martyrs tend to die.

Dostoevsky also is instantly able to understand Nikolai's desire to commit suicide in order to prove the existence of free will and overcome God.

"Fantastic. You rebel against god and fight a battle to lose yourself."

There's two interpretations for why he spots Nikolai's innermost feelings right away, either he's that good or reading people or he deeply relates to Nikolai. Considering Nikolai calls him his most intimate friends I lean towards the second.

He's also completely non-plussed about Nikolai designing a death game specifically to kill him. Dazai refers to Nikolai as a good friend after finding that out, and Dostoevsky agrees with him

His introductory chapter is him deliberately allowing himself to be captured, isolated, probably even beaten by an executive of the Port Mafia in order to obtain a larger goal of information on the Mafia's secrets. That was running the risk of the Executive simply shooting him in the head to remove him as a threat. His method of killing said executive is to convince him into hanging himself.

The concept of suicide is heavily associated with Dostoevsky as a character. He induces a little girl to commit suicide by pulling the pin out of a grenade hanging from her neck. His original plan for Nikolai his closest friend was to have him commit suicide to frame the agency, which only didn't succeed because Nikolai opted out.

In general Dostoevsky is willing to sacrifice lives for his ideals, but despite him being framed as a manipulative mastermind ruthlessly using others, he's also willing to use himself and sacrifice himself for those same ideals.

If Dazai and Dostoevsky are both "Demons" possessed by ideals, then what better way of ridding yourself of your own humanity then by killing yourself. As Jouno establishes in his fight against Kunikida while the agency flees that no matter what humans will ultimately fall short of ideals.

Others refer to Dostoesvky as a demon, and Dostoevsky refers to himself as a "servant of god" but both of them are equally distanced from humanity. If you take out the "good vs. evil" allignment aspect of them, then gods and demons are the same in that they're both not human.

In Dazai's case it's a bit more obvious, the novel he's based off of is literally called "No Longer Human" or in some translations "Disqualified as a Human Being" or "Failed Human."

Both Dazai and Dostoevsky are characters willing to distance themselves from their own humanity in pursuit of their ideals. They live for ideals, and not people, which is part of what makes them so willing to manipulate others.

Dostoevsky and Dazai make grand statements about humanity, Dos believing them to be foolish and Dazai calls them interesting. These are both said from the perspective of an outsider looking in. Even when Dazai is speaking fondly of humans, he still doesn't consider himself to be among them.

"We thought of over a thousand ingenious schemes and still ended up here in a prison at the end of the earth. The ones who actually make the world turn are those who scream within a storm of uncertainty, and run with flowing blood."

Once again this is drawing from the novel No Longer Human where the main character is continually unable to mesh with the rest of society in a genuine way so he lies and deceives everyone around him.

"In other words, you might say that I still have no understanding of what makes human beings tick. My apprehension on discovering that my concept of happiness seemed to be completely at variance with that of everyone else was so great as to make me toss sleeplessly and groan night after night in my bed."

While Dostoesvky's other novels end on more positive notes, Demons is one of his most tragic. The novel ends with a suicide practically the same way that No Longer Human ends with the main character Yozo's implied suicide with the entire novel forming his suicide note.

In the main canon this Dazai most likely won't kill himself as he is given an ideal to continue living for by Oda, but we already witnessed a version of Dazai in the Beast Au who does commit suicide for an ideal, that being keeping the world he created where Oda lives and is allowed to write his novels alive. Dazai is also still in the pattern of behavior of sacrificing himself to fulfill an ideal, such as his willingness to sacrifice himself for Sigma to help convince him to join the agency and turn against Dostoevsky.

Their willingness to die for ideals does not make them entirely selfless martyrs, though. They are both incredibly manipulative and have a tendency not to treat people like people, as they both work in ideals and not people. Ideas are straight forward and pure, people are messy and unpredictable. Sitting on the outside of the gameboard, and treating everyone like a piece you can continue to keep your distance from other people. Dazai may say he admires those people who are in the thick of things shedding blood to make the world turn around, but he doesn't go out and join them.

Rather than self-sacrificing it might be better to say they are self-negating. They don't see themselves as individuals, and that also applies to others sometimes, especially in cases where they don't respect their individual free will. Atsushi is completely dependent on Dazai to the point of not thinking for himself and hallucinating Dazai to tell him what to do. Akutagawa lives for Dazai's praise which Dazai uses the stick and carrot approach to keep leading him forward. Nikolai himself rebels against Dostoevsky when he realizes his friendship with Dos might be controlling him and therefore his decisions may not have been of his own free will. Then there's you know the way Dos treats Sigma, which is even worse than the way Dazai has treated Atsushi or Akutagawa.

Which connects to the novel Demons as well, when people are possessed by radical ideals other people get hurt. Pyotr murders a man, frames another man for the murder prompting his suicide, and in that starts a frenzy in the town. When possessed by an ideal, you are less accountable for your own actions. If Dazai and Dostoevsky are not human, but rather demons or servants of god pursuing a higher ideal then why should they even have to follow human rules? Why give respect to humans as individuals if they are doing these things for a higher purpose, for the benefit of everyone?

Dazai and Dosteovsky are both striving towards completely opposite ideals. Dazai's ideals are Oda's ideals, if saving or hurting people doesn't make a difference to you then choose to save others because that path is more beautiful. Dostoevsky is also pursuing a more beautiful world, striving towards that same beauty, but in his mind the way to reach it is purifying the world of impurities. He wants to push everyone towards the perfectionism that he believes God intended.

"Me? I'm not doing anything. I just sat here and prayed, and my prayers have reached god. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Even from his introductory chapter, it twists Dostoevsky's actions to show that in his mind he is likely "saving" evil people.

"The crime was thinking. The crime was breathing. He has been liberated from that." (I suddenly understood. Who does evil save?)

When Dostoevsky induces a little girl to commit suicide in Cannibalism, he paradoxically speaks of a better world for children. Dos isn't making a joke or laughing maniacally here he genuinely seems sincere.

"Good fortune for this world. A blessing for children."

Their ideals seem to be opposite, but in a way they're both working towards the ideal of "saving people" and just disagree on what saving them actually entails. Dazai could also easily slip into becoming someone like Dostoevsky, hence why his lowest point and his most violent and abusive self is his mafia era where he's referred to as the "demonic prodigy." Beast gives us a glance at what Dazai would look like in a world where he never met Oda, and he effectively becomes the main villain of that world in place of Dostoevsky. He even uses the book to create his own personal ideal world, which is what we know so far of Dostoevsky's motivation in the main canon.

They are the same and opposite in many ways, including the way they are pictured in the fifth season opening that I used as a banner image for this post. Dazai is standing in the light, Dostoevsky is in the middle of a clouded, dark and stormy sky, the time of day is different but they're still standing in the same place, a ruined demon.

Which is why they are both referred to as demons. They both play at being servants of god, or demons rather than seeing themselves as people. They both are possessed by greater ideas which can lead to their less than savory actions. They're both seen by others and themselves as inhuman, and then use that same thing as an excuse to distance themselves from the people around them.

Most importantly, both characters are painfully human.

[metidax]

“Demons” by Dostoevsky: historical context

TW: brief description of the murder

Dostoevsky was a famous Russion writer. “Demons” is one of my favourite book and recently i've started rereading it. So i want to tell you about historical event - a real crime - that inspired Dostoevsky to write this novel.

In 19th century it was illegal to organize or participate in political entities that did not support monarchy. However, some people anyway united in such organisation. One of these revolutioners was young man Sergey Nechayev - the main figure of the crime i mentioned above.

Nechayev was sure that peaceful gathering and public awareness campaign would not topple the regime. So he's decided that bloody revolution is the only way.

In 1869 (far before October Revolution in 1917 that led to change of government) Nechayev organised “Society of Public Revenge”. Organisation charter included idea that one can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs implying allowability of violence and terror.

Nechayev was persuasive and greedy for power. He forced the members of the society to write endless reports about their actions and plans. The police began to follow Nechaev almost immediately.

Once Ivan Ivanov, a student, opposed one of Nechayev's actions. Nechaev was so angered by the insubordination that decided to get rid of Ivanov. Nechayev lied and said that Ivanov was a police spy. Then Nechayev and four other members of the society met Ivanov in a park. Nobody except Nechayev knew about soon-to-be murder.

At first Nechayev tried to choke Ivanov with a scarf, but the victim resisted. Ivanov was stunned with a bludgeon and then killed with a shot to the head.

They put one criminal participant’s coat on Ivanov, put bricks in his pockets, and then dumped the body into a pond, expecting that it would not be found until spring. However, a few days later a passer-by saw a trace of blood, followed it to the pond and found the Ivanov's body under the ice.

In the pockets of the coat were the society's reports; the police had obtained indisputable evidence of illegal revolutionary activity and murder. The accomplices of the crime were captured in a couple of days, Nechaev managed to escape abroad, but later he was extradited to the Russian Empire.

The case become public. Thus, in the eye of the people, the revolutioners proved their readiness to commit any crime to topple the regime.

Dostoevsky learnt the details of the case from his wife's brother, who was acquainted with both Nechaev and Ivanov. Ivanov was originally supposed to be the protagonist of “Demons”, but in the end the novel became so grandiose that there is no protagonist: readers can perceive the story from different angles.

[lilisouless]

Sab spoilers , but by this point everyone has watched it

Sergei was only mentioned so it barely counts as being on the show. Kaz`s fight with the dregs is pretty much the same as CK , so i count it as an adaptation which means there is an abssense of some named dregs like Anika and Keeg who tried to stop it

Not counting characters whose timeline has not come yet (Colm,Jan Van Eck,Jarl Brum,etc)

Neither counting characters that appeared phisically on season 1 like Fedyor,Pavel , Rotty,Ivan or Marie , even if on the case of the grisha, they appeared on the S&S events but were removed from the timeline

Fedyor and

[spidermilkshake]

Взаимное уважение (Vzaimnoye Uvazheniye) 1:

More RE fanfiction, of a different kind and a different time--post Raccoon City Incident, and very far away from all that. But we do get some further insight into the modus operandi and the nature/nurture of a particular scary Colonel and his personal Ivan Tyrant bodyguards.

Content Warnings: Mentions of Corporate Bullshit, Cursing (mostly in Russian), anxiety and mentions of trauma, otherwise tame.

Взаимное уважение (Vzaimnoye Uvazheniye), 1:

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            The security had been about what Collin had expected; two checkpoints had the rather understated Umbrella agent stop his car for pairs of beefy men brandishing Kalashnikovs… or something like Kalashnikovs, anyways. Collin didn’t know guns, except to not say anything stupid and simply hand off his identification to the ones aiming the guns at him. The armed guards grunted, waved him through to the next set of gates, and willfully ignored this weedy annoyance. Ahead, he spied the actual complex itself, though it was beyond the reach of the dirt one-lane road he’d been on for the past half mile, and stopped the slightly dented, rented vehicle to step out and investigate his route further��the complex was, technically, a residence though not a typical one.

The man who lived there was also not a typical one. Colonel Sergei Vladimir was considered “retired” from Umbrella’s board, but as with most people involved with the company it was impossible to cut all ties, even when the break was legitimate and not just legal smokescreen. Though the Colonel could put a safe distance from the business of genetically-engineered super-virals and the cutthroat bioweaponry environment—sitting comfortably on the stacks of money gained from quite literally selling off bits of himself—he seemed to have prepared well for someone to have found out his involvement anyhow, and be ready to withdraw like a tortoise and fight to the death. He seemed the type, just from what Collin knew. At least a dozen experimental Tyrants had been cloned directly from this bizarre old Soviet, and a dozen more at least had large chunks of his genome spliced into them in the embryonic stages.  

            Collin did not like Tyrants… not the individual creatures and definitely not the concept of them. Despite still being on Umbrella business and very much out of his element, Collin was at least relieved that he was isolated in a private piece of the Ukrainian countryside, and not stuck in some laboratory or test range with the hulking monsters’ cloudy, vacant eyes following his every move. Not nearly as vacant as they looked…

            There was a third checkpoint area at the end of the small footpath some fifty yards down the hill from where he’d left the car, though no guards appeared to be standing at their normal places. There was only a smaller, ordinary metal fence with a very much not-security oriented latch between himself and a small patio leading up to a Brutalist-styled house’s front entrance, and after waiting a few seconds Collin timidly lifted the latch and let himself onto the brick pavers. Still there was no sign of a final checkpoint guard, so he called out once in English, then kicked himself mentally and tried again in a wavery Russian. No voice replied. There wasn’t even the bark of a sentry dog. Steeling his fragile spine, Collin took the next few paces over to the heavy oak door and thought about knocking. There was obviously no doorbell…

            Behind him and to his left came a swift stamping of heavy boots, and Collin spun around in terror as their trajectory stopped less than a yard from him. A tremor rattled the paver he was standing on. He’d already craned his neck up expecting to be glared down by the standard six-foot meathead soldier and cursed out in a mix of tongues for crossing the threshold without clearance. He instead came eye-to-chest with a wall of heavy white fabric. His neck had to creak up another few notches—and Collin shuddered at what was looming very much into his personal space.

            A Tyrant. Of course there would be a goddamn Tyrant, even out here. It wasn’t even a very big one as the trained killer biomutants went—but it was still well in the range of what Collin considered way too damn big for anything that superficially resembled a bald, mute, and jacked humanoid.

            There was… something else weird here too, which Collin didn’t place until the seven-foot-plus monstrosity had stopped and stared the little man down for several seconds, and then leaned its deep grey, leathery face closer. Collin flinched, bringing his hands up into a default position of surrender as he silently prayed the thing was not under any kind of kill orders. With a delayed startle he realized the Tyrant had been… wearing something extra with its bright white Limiter coat.

            Were those… sunglasses?

            Well, maybe “blinders” was also appropriate. They were an iridescent orange, wrap-around type which almost completely obscured the creature’s eyes and brows. The need was obvious: Tyrants of all production phases, all models, and all model variants had long been known to have extremely sensitive eyesight—and prolonged damage from bright sun or frequent flashbangs was the reason behind the eerie, pupilless appearance that many of them developed. Why this one was given a piece of eye protection that was so goofy-looking, like it was off to escort its master to a rave, Collin couldn’t quite understand.

            The goofiness of the glasses did not do much to lessen the very real possibility that Collin was going to piss himself and cry before falling down. The Tyrant had cocked its head slightly, and let out a confused grunt before lowering its head even closer. Its face was almost brushing up on Collin’s messy mop of hair; it sucked in a few heavy sniffs, straightened up, and repeated the process on each of the man’s upraised hands. Collin’s bladder nearly gave up the fight as a second set of thundering footsteps came around the house and loomed in from the right: Another Tyrant. This one was near-identical, except for the goofy sunglasses it wore being blue. This mutant also began sniffing heavily over the elevated portions of the intruder, letting out a low warning growl as Collin tried to duck out of its easy reach.

…What the hell were they doing? Were they under orders at all? Or was he screwed—simply happening to catch these things’ interest while they were freely roaming, and about to get out-of-control mauled by the two of them?

            A large hand stretched out and pawed at the breast pocket of Collin’s shirt, and he stifled a yelp. He held still as a statue as the other’s hands began investigating his open coat pockets, growling a bit more emphatically as its gloved fingers closed over his tube of Chapstick. It snatched the tube, studied it for a second, then gave it an exploratory sniff before baring its upper teeth in disgust and flinging it away. The orange-visored monster was now digging into his slack’s pockets—still with a casual scent-check over Collin’s jacket shoulder as the man couldn’t suppress his squeak in alarm.

Maybe he wasn’t dead. The Tyrants seemed to be searching him—and a fair bit more politely than a TSA agent at that—and once the two monsters had seemingly determined that this intruder had no weapons, poisons, or other dangerous things they’d been ordered to watch for, they let up on the rough grabbing, the menacing growls, and stood back. It wasn’t easy to tell thanks to the ridiculous wrap-around headgear, but the Tyrants now seemed to be calmly watching him. The blue-visored one tilted its head sharply as Collin started lowering his hands to curl up around chest level, and grunted sharply at him.

            What the hell did that mean? Were they… waiting for orders from him now? He wished his voice wasn’t cracking like his balls hadn’t dropped and also that he’d thought to bring some water for his dry mouth:

            “U-umm… English? You understand?”

            To Collin’s shock, the two began nodding eagerly, tensed on their feet like pointer dogs focused on a hidden, quivering rabbit.

            “Right, um, I’ve come to meet with Sergei Vladimir. Is he here?”

            Both started to move, stopping as their broad shoulders bumped into each other and each issued a deep rumble of dissatisfaction as they glared at each other, noses only inches apart. The snarls raised in pitch until finally the slightly bigger one in the orange visor relented, shifting its weight in place, leaving the blue-visored one to tromp off around the side of the house presumably to fetch the ex-Spetsnaz Colonel. Collin tried to just get some oxygen without hyperventilating as he got left with the even less ideal situation. Being small, and being guarded by a seven-foot-plus mutant born and bred to crack heads open and punch through walls.

            “H-he’s, uh, gone to find the Colonel?” He must have snapped if he was chatting with a lethal bioweapon. But anything to help him forget the monstrous nature of the thing still standing less than a yard away, right?

            To Collin’s surprise, the Tyrant peered back down at him and gave a curt bob of its head. He began to nervously chuckle, uncontrollably.

            “Aheh… heh… good… that’s good…”

            The thing grunted again, sounding… interested, confused, annoyed? Collin couldn’t tell, and backed up to the door as the Tyrant suddenly shifted its weight towards him, leaning its entire head, shoulders, and massive chest down as if ready to headbutt him or crush him bodily against the closest wall. Collin flinched, hands wrapping up to futilely protect his eggshell-flimsy skull. He didn’t think he’d done anything provoking, but then the Colonel was known to be a bit on the crazy side. His personal Tyrants might also be trained to be a bit crazy to match.

            But nothing hit him… Cracking an eye open, Collin was startled by the sight of a wrinkly, grey ear hovering less than a foot from his face. The Tyrant was just holding the bent-over posture, waiting. Was it… looking at something by his shoes? There was nothing there but the cracks in the pavers and a light-colored moss. After a second the creature gave a soft groan—now definitely confused and shifting from foot to foot in impatience.

            “W-Uh-Wh-What do you w-want?” Collin prayed to whatever power existed that the Tyrant could parse his stammers. The thing blew a heavy snort through its nostrils, then answered very, very clearly, though the man still half-squealed at the reply he got: It groaned again, it pressed its shoulder sideways against Collin’s, and dipped its head further to bump softly against his forehead.

…Was this… normal for Tyrants? Was it… asking him to, what, pet it, like a dog or something?

            “Well—go on!” A deep, jovial voice chuckled from where its owner was stepping out around the side-yard. “Don’t leave him like that too long! Reward the poor Vanya before he gets let down!”

            Collin’s attention snapped to the tall, white-haired older man who was standing (and trying not the laugh) with the blue-visored Tyrant faithfully shadowing him. His right eye was closed permanently and still marked with a long scar, and he was wearing heavy outdoor boots, trousers, and a half-open coat even in the faint chill of the spring air. He was imposing indeed—barely looking small compared to these Tyrants, and also wore an insufferably amused smirk.

            “Ah, uh—” Collin was still afraid of whatever it meant to “let down” the insistent monster mashing itself into his side, and reached up while trying his best to keep his hand from shaking. Since the thing kept pushing its head further into his personal bubble, Collin gave the creature a quick scratch over the scalp as he might an overtly-friendly dog. The Tyrant let out a rumble that seemed contented, twisting its neck so that the fumbling hand was over the desired spot.

            “Seems Podushka likes you, ahaha!” the man, who could only be the Colonel, guffawed as he watched his visitor’s terrified expression turn fully confused under the barrage of the Tyrant still snuggling heavily onto him. “Come on, get some nerve! The big beast isn’t going to hurt you, сука. Ugh, what kind of hiring is Umbrella resorting to these days?”

            Colonel Sergei said something short and level in… Russian possibly, though he didn’t understand it. The Tyrant—or “Podushka”—swiftly retreated from Collin’s armsreach and grunted in an acknowledgement. The Colonel then stepped over towards his guest with the other Tyrant not far behind and squinted downwards.

            “Hmmm… You’re the one here about the settlement, yes? What do I call you?”

            “C-Collin Davies, sir. Yes, you’re quite right,” he straightened up, trying not to reveal just how chilly he was now that fear-sweat had soaked right through to his lapels, “I’m from Umbrella’s U.K. branch… Just here to confirm with you some things that will, ah, assure your immunity.”

            “Hmph… Might as well get cozy, with all this legal pizdets…” Sergei appeared to chew at the inside of his cheek a moment. “We should do this inside. Laska! Podushka! Follow.”

            Okay, this big Soviet bastard definitely found his phobia of Tyrants hilarious; there was a smirk on his face as he opened the door and let the agent in—making sure the still-rumbling Podushka was right behind the tiny man the whole way.

            Well… at least Colonel Vladimir’s hospitality was as big as whatever offshore bank account his work at Umbrella had bloated. The older man bade him make himself comfortable in one of the armchairs of what was either a living room or a particularly lush study, the dim coals of the last night’s warming fire still glowing in the nearby hearth. Collin politely accepted the glass of ice-water but had to turn down the shot of fiery spirits that his host also offered. Sergei downed his own in a split-second, barely reacting, and passed the unclaimed shot over to the blue-visored Tyrant, who gave it a tentative sniff and drank it almost as swiftly.

            “Nnr!”

            It half-choked, gray nose and lips wrinkling up as it shook its head. Sergei cackled as he took the empty shot glass back from its twitching hands.

            “Ohh, poor Laska. I’m cruel to you, yes? So cruel I give you the thirty-euro vodka… come on, hush, you’re fine. My fantastic Ivan, eh? There you are,” The Colonel plucked something from his pocket and pushed it into the Tyrant’s palm, which upon being studied lit the creature’s face up and earned a higher-pitched grunt.

            While the creature tore open the wrapper and devoured whatever it was that the Colonel had given it, Sergei kicked up his feet onto the small stool close by and sighed.

            “Now, business…”

            Collin knew more gory details than he liked to, but such was required working in the position he did. Many Umbrella executives were now either M.I.A.—presumably either dead, the traitors responsible for the recent disastrous outbreak, or part of the response now running as far from association with the company as possible—or they were part of the ring of board members which the United States Government was now putting under the microscope. Except for the Colonel. There was no official record of his current or recent work under Umbrella, despite his role in salvaging what could be found out of the Raccoon City Incident before the place was “sterilized” in the flash of the USA’s nuclear judgment. Judging from the fact that Colonel Vladimir had helicoptered in, recovered at least one archive and a supercomputer alongside several Monitors and other personnel, and lived to escape was a testament to the fact that Sergei had perhaps been the only competent person involved in that little fiasco that Collin’s boss had dared to call “damage control”.

            The lack of paper or digital trail was very beneficial to Colonel Vladimir’s case—as was the strong evidence which still existed of mismanagement and sabotage from a certain Albert Wesker and Dr. William Birkin, the latter of which was definitely dead and the former disappeared to parts unknown. There would still be sanctions, reparation settlements that would be ordered, and at least a few of the artificially-high-ranked useless toadies on Umbrella’s executive branch would have as much culpability redirected onto their records as possible to give the courts a few sacrificial targets to lay down prison sentences. Umbrella would survive—in what state it couldn’t be said yet, but it would survive this. And by virtue of not being provably anywhere near the States at the time and comfortably at home in a former Soviet country where extradition was rare even for the less powerful… Sergei Vladimir would likely not be seeing the inside of a courtroom.

            Sergei grumbled as he scanned the statements he was to sign and initial, one hand wandering to a small switchblade which he slipped from a pocket and fidgeting with it. Collin tried not to watch the flash of light as the blade flicked out, in, out again—and tried even harder not to stare in alarm as the behemoth of a man then turned the tip of the exposed knife up to his mouth, teeth clicking against metal as he chewed on it. He only stopped as a tiny dribble of blood ran down his gums and beaded at the corner of his mouth, but apparently, he did not stop from pain; the Tyrant left standing by Collin’s chair (Podushka) began to make a soft groaning that almost sounded like a whine, head locked in the direction of its master’s visible bleeding.

            “Hm.” Sergei sheathed and put away the weapon, then wiped away the blood on the back of his sleeve, “Very well, I should sign. I am losing track of time, you see… good, my Ivan! You keep me on task.”

            Podushka’s plaintive noise turned immediately to the more satisfied rumble at the sound of praise. The other—what had he called it again? Laksha? Lasya?—leaned closer to its master’s large armchair and its nostrils flared in a few sniffs, detecting the presence of its master’s blood and tensing up visibly. Sergei chuckled and reached around to pat this Tyrant on the shoulder.

            “Laska, shh.” Vladimir smiled, and not with the schadenfreude as he had at the plight of his guest. Collin watched, completely dumbfounded. He had never seen anyone handle one of these killer mutants this way before; half of the Tyrant training staff he’d ever asked would have said anyone with their guard this low around a T-103 model was asking for at least an accidental fracture, if not far, far worse.

            While Sergei quickly got to work signing and initialing, Collin could not help but notice that the Colonel’s one functioning eye was scrutinizing the far less physically impressive man with a troubling glint in it. As the Colonel flipped to the last place that needed his distinctive scrawl, another almost playful grin was pointed over his way.

            “I see you have been surprised by these two. So, what you make of my Ivans?”

            “Ah… ‘Ivans’, sir?” Collin tried not to let the increase in the sweat beading over his brow be obvious, “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the Tyrant model… Er, they’re T-103s?”

            “Derivative model. By you there is designated T-IVAN-012, and here we have T-IVAN-013. Split embryo. Twin brothers, you could say. But yes, very like the T-103s.” Sergei smirked, “You do not work around such fantastic beasts, do you?”

            “Well, er, actually… a-around them, not exactly with…”

            The Colonel raised up a brow, “Really? Your fear suggests you have no experience whatsoever.”

            “On the contrary,” Collin’s lips split in an anxious, uncontrolled grimace which he quickly warped into a smile, “I’ve had some, uh, not necessarily pleasant experiences. F-frequently.” At this Collin’s heart dropped as the daunting man’s face soured into a somewhat suspicious frown. He said something snappily to the Ivan named Laska, who turned and retrieved a few small objects from one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves before coming back to its master and holding them out. Vladimir grabbed up the cigar first, chomped it a bit more roughly than necessary, and then took the matchbook.

            “Mr. Davies,” he growled around the cigar as he lit it, pausing to take a few strong puffs, “By chance do you recall the facilities where these… not pleasant and frequent experiences occurred to you?”

            “Oh, not to me,” Collin tittered, wiping the back of his neck, “I don’t think I’d be alive now if that stuff was towards me. No no, I just, ah… saw a lot of things in my different placements.”

            “Hm-mm. Saw a lot of Tyrants, eh?”

            “Y-yes. And their handlers.”

            “Come, tell me about some. The training and news of such beasts is a great interest of mine. As you maybe could tell,” he lightened up once more, though there was still a glare aimed his way even while Sergei rewarded Laska once more with a sturdy series of pats on the shoulder which it not-so-subtly leaned into.

            “Er… well, I’m Umbrella U.K. primarily, so I do a lot of assignments at the U.C.T. complex up in Orkney,” his mouth started running, and Collin wasn’t sure what he could do to stop it. Maybe he’d look a bit less of a cowardly bastard if he did go into detail; probably not—this Russian bear was a Soviet-Afghanistan veteran and anything human versus human was likely so much more disturbing than what Collin had to offer. But then it seemed a bit of a relief of pressure to spill the beans to this crazy Colonel. He seemed to have certain… opinions of Collin’s superiors that these violent spectacles he’d witnessed would no doubt prop up a bit higher.

            “We had Tyrant groups transferred there. For uh, specialized training I think. I’m not good with what the purpose of it all was. I was mostly just filing the paperwork. There was this one time a few years ago that a group of three were coming through for training before they got passed along to the buyer in… Sweden, I think.

            “They had a bunch of handlers, of course. They’re 300 kilo monsters, and sometimes they just won’t move the way you want them to.”

            “That they are,” Sergei chuckled. “Go on!”

            “But those three Tyrants had one trainer for whatever it was they were supposed to do in Sweden. This guy named Anton. Didn’t talk to him much. I got the feeling he thought poorly of anyone behind a desk.

            “Anyway, Anton kept putting in notes I had to file up the chain that one of the Tyrants was acting, uh, defective.”

            Sergei snorted.

            “Well, that’s what Anton said. I wouldn’t know.” Collin licked at his dry lips, doing little good since the memory had dried his whole mouth out anyways. “I’m in my work space and I get called to the observation deck there to watch this guy. I guess, ah, that intern knew better what was going to happen.”

            If the dark chuckle the Colonel responded with was any indication, he had a good idea what was next as well—as well as about ten things the suspiciously-past-tense-only Anton should not have done…

            “That Tyrant didn’t look off at all, except that it wasn’t listening to Anton. A handler went in to redirect it, started it going through the basic stuff—moving obstacles, testing reflexes with the tennis ball gun, holding still and turning so its Limiter could get adjusted. You know… And this one was, uh… a big one. A head or more over, um…”

            “—Podushka,” the Colonel reminded him of the larger Ivan’s nickname, then nodded for him to carry on.

            “Yes, so, very big. And when the handler went out, this one did fine. More than fine—it was perfect. In fact it acted kinda… um… well—”

            “—Relieved?” Sergei’s expression wasn’t quite a smirk, but it bled both confidence and foreknowledge. Collin had to stare at him, amazed he’d found the exact word.

            “Yes, that’s it! There was no sign at all it would snap, at least at that point. That Tyrant looked positively cool-headed as it worked, so did the handler.”

            “Mm-hm,” Another low cloud of cigar smoke drifted up towards the ornate vent in the ceiling, “And that tells you—just by logic now, no need to know Tyrant training—exactly who was defective?”

            Not the Tyrant,” Collin did not bother to suppress the shiver, “Its fists worked just fine…”

            “And before fists came out? Details, сука!”

            “Well, er, Anton looked pretty annoyed that this newbie handler wasn’t getting the same treatment as him. So he pushed the guy back to the door and said he’d take over the drills.” Collin shrugged. “Next thing anyone knew, that thing was on top of Anton, and then he was not so much Anton as, ah… several pieces.”

            “It sounds to me,” Vladimir again patted Laska, which then evolved into stroking the creature’s entire shoulder and arm, prompting the Ivan to tilt its head heavily down towards the contact, “like this anonymous handler had the Tyrant’s respect. Perhaps enough it considered the handler its master it had to protect. You see now why Anton did not make it, yes?”

            “It… thought Anton was attacking its master?”

            “As surely as anyone going to shove me would feel my Vanyas’ wrath, absolutely. It is one of the finer qualities of any Tyrant—loyalty, and a willingness to put themselves between a threat and the ones they must protect. Even if it brings pain to them—they want to fight—to protect, more than they want to avoid pain.”

            Collin’s voice caught in his throat; he decided he would not mention that the higher-ups had opted to put down the “faulty/insubordinate” Tyrant.

            “Ugh, idiot trainer,” the ex-Soviet grumbled, sucking on the cigar with a more desperate force. “This was not the only such debil you saw at work, eh.”

            “Err… no sir, I would say not, sir.”

            “Serves them right then. Tyrants are truly too good for them.”

            “Um… Sir?”

            “Hm, you know how some say ‘mankind does not deserve dogs’?” Sergei mused, “It is much the same with any beast that has grown to live alongside humans. Such creatures,” Vladimir’s voice went low, “are innocent. They ask for nothing—especially not to be born to serve. There are… situations in our world that let us know that there are Masters, and there are Slaves. Leaders and Followers. It would be the duty of the leader to ensure the needs of the followers, though…” the older man’s brow cinched up, darkening his expression, “This is often not the case. Thus there are Masters and Slaves. While any well-trained guard dog would be fully within its right to attack the Master who beats or starves it, a dog… well, any normal animal doesn’t have the power to remind mankind what we owe it.

            “But a Tyrant,” Sergei’s deep, intimidating voice became full of awe, full of softness where you wouldn’t expect, “A Tyrant had the power. So close to human in form and build and makeup, they wake automatically understanding our words and reading our faces, our voices. And whenever mankind does not deserve a Tyrant, the Tyrant can and will make it known.

“So when a Tyrant obeys you, it is humbling. This beast could so easily destroy every bone in your body, take whatever it needed or wanted, and treat you as nothing… but it does not. It is the ultimate example of serving another, or absolute willingness, and to earn such an unconditional devotion is…” the huge man sighed, “… almost spiritual.”

“…You… care about these two quite a lot, don’t you?”

“Oh, certainly,” the man’s hand had wandered up to the area just behind the Ivan’s ear, and the creature’s fingers curled up involuntarily as it began to grumble with a tone that was as pleased as Collin had ever heard from one of the monsters. Another Tyrant vocalization—a dull groan, almost yearning—sounded from right behind the Colonel’s visitor, and he jumped slightly before remembering Podushka was still looming over his chair. “I have… given up much. Some things I should not have—It was a failure of mine that haunts me, yet it had to be done. But for these two, I can earn back that worth. So long as I am not dead, then I have the trust of my dear Ivans!”

Sergei then squinted at the flinching man, entertained still by his reflexive fright, “Mr. Davies—you have an urgent request waiting, hahah!”

The small man reached a tentative hand up, hoping the Ivan would guide him a bit in exactly where to place it. Podushka growled loudly, but not with any kind of aggression, and soon enough expressed that the thought did count even if the reaching hand was nowhere near it: There was a gentle clonk of the brute’s cranium resting down on the top of Collin’s shaggy mop.

“Um.”

Oh god. He must have looked especially pathetic now, because the ex-Spetsnaz was visibly cracking up at this. Sucking up the two atoms’ worth of courage in his whole body, Collin tucked his upraised hand around and scratched vigorously at the first spot of Tyrant he came in contact with—which ended up being the side of its meaty neck. Podushka pressed into it, blissful grumble vibrating itself, Collin, and the chair he sat in like a revving engine.

“Good, my Vanya, ha! You are lucky, Mr. Davies. These two do not warm up to outsiders like this so easy. Especially not Podushka. He is fiercely protective whenever strangers call.”

“Uh. I… sort of doubt I’m all that dangerous.” The Ivan seemed to concur—if it was even paying much attention, that is. It was currently occupied with nuzzling the side of its broad jaw down into the top of the captive guest’s hair, squeezing the man lower just hard enough that Collins squeaked and gasped sharply, but not hard enough to compress him into an accordion shape, “U-um! Easy—you’re heavy, oof.”

“Podushka, do not break him, eh?” Sergei snickered, and with a low huff through its nostrils the Tyrant released the agent’s head, though still lingered overhead low enough to continue extorting affection from him. “Well, it appears all of the legal nonsense is done. But it is late, yes? You will not be making it back to civilization before dark…”

“Is… that a particular concern around here, Colonel?”

“Hmph, you don’t fear driving forty kilometers in the night on these old backroads, alone? If some debil didn’t want your car, or your money, it would be your kidneys at least.”

“Ah,” Collin’s hand froze mid-scratch, and a puzzled grunt issued from the Tyrant, “I, uh, had a room paid for back in Zinkiv, but I’m not sure getting there sounds appealing.” Reminded of the biomutant’s presence as it bumped itself against him again, Collin startled and gave Podushka three final pats before retrieving his hand, “A-are you sure these, uh, your Ivans would be safe to be around for that long? As an outsider?”

“Merely overnight,” Sergei chuckled and shook his head, “If their master gives the word, they will leave you be. Even without my orders, you’d be fine. Don’t do anything foolish, and you are better off taking your chances with the Tyrants than the… locals,” he sniffed.

“Well, I… thank you for the, ah, hospitality. It’s quite unexpected in my line of work.”

“Not a problem,” Vladimir shook his head more forcefully, “We are in this work together, hm? Come, I will show you the guest room. Soon is dinner—that is, if you do not mind local commoner fare.” He chuckled darkly, “And sharing it with Tyrants.”

“Eheh… So long as no one bites my hand off I should manage.”

[ihaventcomeupwthanameforaheroyet]

There is more than this one-liner because Lestat mentioned he saw Marius making movies in the end of TVL, too:

From that I've managed to pick up, he operated the camera himself, hired human actors (I wonder what they thought of his nocturnal lifestyle, especially if he filmed something which would be easier to capture in the daylight), he used painted backgrounds (I think it would be safe to assume he painted the backgrounds, too), and the films he made weren't silent ones which made the whole situation unbelievable for Lestat. Lestat did not mentioned if these films were black and white or in colour, and he did not see any mortals watching these, but Marius showed his films to Those Who Must Be Kept.

I have my own list of questions regarding this.

First of all, were these films any good? I mean, I tend to imagine Marius-made films as something like Sergei Eisenstein's Ivan the Terrible (except maybe with smaller budget). If you have ever seen this movie, you might understand - when you watch it, you can feel the volume even though the screen is flat and in some scenes you can almost see the colours even though the movie is black and white. (And I don't mean the 10 minutes of the second part which are deliberately in colour.) Also, many scenes look like they are moving paintings. (Yes, this movie impressed me a lot, and I would totally expect something like this from Marius.) But maybe these films were like these home-made first amateur videos - absolutely terrible but everyone eventually passes through this phase? Who knows!

I also wonder what the "once or twice" referred to - whether Maruis meant he made a film once or twice and never tried it again or... he showed only one or two movies to the mortals but made a bigger collection for internal use (for the Parents and/or for himself). Actually, if Marius ever made some films for the mortals, the opportunities here! Imagine Armand and Daniel catching a glimpse of something Marius-made on one of these weird films festivals. Imagine Talamasca owning some copies, too. Maybe it's David, not Daniel, who will bring the old films for the movie night! (Because I believe Marius' own collection won't survive the beginning of QotD.)

There is also that one thought that lives in my head rent free: I wonder if Marius ever made animated films. He is an artist, and he has his prenatural vampire speed - he would be able to make an entire film all by himself in no time, and he won't even need human actors. Well, he would need voice actors, but still... voice actors would probably ask less questions regarding his schedule.

But yes. The thought is mind-blowing.

“Entered the mortal world..as a filmmaker”???!!! As @desertfangs has said, there are WHOLE STORIES in Anne Rice one-liners.

[thegoldielocks28]

26 for Hiromi and Yuriy!

Nr 26: Sick Days.

As long as Yuriy has known Hiromi, which counts to a few years by now, the woman has always been someone whose presence easily fills up the room. Bright laughter, a high and demanding voice and that confidence that only seemed to have gotten stronger with time.

Yet, when he really thinks about it, does he really know her at all? Just like many of the bladers he met during his career Yuriy seldom looked beyond what they could bring to the dish: what harm they could do to his brothers. 

Hiromi was never a blader. Yuriy´s relationship with her has been about is passning greetings in hallways, asking about Kai: nothing important.

What he has come to understand though is that people would be fools to underestimate her. It takes strength to wake Takao in the mornings, determination to get Daichi to not become a circus ape in public, and confidence to strengthen the Chief when he doubts himself. Not to mention the dynamic between Takao, Kai, Max and Rei who all have gotten hungry for the title of world champion as of late. Yuriy has observed them for a long time. 

Who would know where the Japanese team would be without Hiromi?

Not on top, that's for sure.

(Yuriy rather not think too deeply about the Chief and Daichi and their part in the success of the Bladebreakers as his pride is still hurt from that disaster of a tournament years back. Hah.)

It was Kai who told the team, somewhat out of the blue, that the old Bladebreakers wanted to meet up. Annoyance had flared up within him as Kai just recently had decided to join the Russian team for this season. Yuriy had been prepared to remind Kai of how much practice he'd have to catch up with if he went when Kai interrupted him and told them they were all invited to stay at the Kinomiya dojo. All of the Russian team. The suggestion sure surprised him and his brothers but the thought of meeting old rivals made them eager to go.

The only reluctant one was Boris, and for good reasons. 

A month lafer Kai, Ivan, Sergei, Boris and Yuriy himself finds themselves in Tokyo Japan, in the middle of hot-as-fuck-August. The season of summer festivals, the sound of crickets and colorful shaved ice. Yuriy can't count how many iced treats he bought since he first arrived. Hot and bothered, he tries to withstand the exotic warmth of Japan and seeing his team make connections makes it easier. 

There's warmth in his chest he can't really name just yet.

Today though, something about the brunette is different. The young woman who 's often the one keeping check on people and things seemed out of it, silent, and her closer friends don't seem to notice as they're too busy catching up and enjoying the quick pace of the day. Even so, she had gone out of her way to help Yuriy and his team to find some sort of comfort in the intense heat. 

Yuriy can feel her warmth and scent as Hiromi moves closer to him, aiding him in tying the soft summer yukata around him with gentle yet firm hands. The closeness would often be something he´d dislike, but after trying to figure out how to tie this night-gown-like robe for a while and not succeeding, he found himself in dire need of help. Tilting his head away at first to get more space, he silently ponders about her scent. He'd thought she'd choose something stronger, but this scent is much like vanilla and coconut. As the silence is beginning to become awkward Yuriy shifts, looks down at her through eyelashes, and only then notices the paleness of her skin. Blue eyes linger on her face. 

“You tie it like this… “She murmurs at last. “This should keep you cool outside… it has a matching uchiwa. Uh, a handfan? Too. Here.”

Yuriy observes Hiromi as she looks up at him, forcing a weak smile upon their eye contact. Seems like that's when the woman realizes just how close they are standing and takes a few steps back. Yuriy hesitates for a moment, but as he's about to comment on her bad complexion he´s interrupted. 

“With your hair like that, Yura, you look like a pretty little thing.” Boris' rough voice can be heard through the room. 

Yuriy frowns in annoyance as he reaches up to tie his red hair into a simple bun. Ever since Boris got taller than him he has never stopped pointing it out.  Because Boris and Sergei are both taller and broader, and Ivan is a unique size of his own, there weren't any traditional robes around that´d suit them. All is clad in shorts and t-shirts. It seems as if Hiromi had realized the heat had gotten to him and put in the effort to find one of her family's old robes for him to wear. Thin, soft, and good in the heat. Even while not feeling her best she´d done that for them. 

It´s a short walk towards the shrine, and the heat is intense. The humidity makes it worse. Yet, the sight in front of them distracts. Colorful lanterns, several food stands, people dressed up, laughter. Yuriy observes how his teammates mingle with the Asian team, with the people that had been there during the fall of Balkov, and finds satisfaction in the sight. His focus moves from to Hiromi, she's the only one not really joining in the conversation. 

Yuriy positions himself just behind Hiromi as they all start to climb up the stone stairs towards the shrine. A part of him does it out of instinct, another because of how small her shoulders look at that moment, and only after a small while is it proved that he did the right thing. Suddenly, Hiromi missteps and she's about to fall. Yuriy extends his arm and she falls against his chest. Hiromi lets out a small yelp, but soon tries to act as if everything is normal, cheeks in a blush. Yuriy ends up staring at her in dismay as she looks up at him while preparing to act normal. 

“Thanks! That could have been a nasty fall.” Hiromi says, laughing awkwardly.

She places a hand on his chest and tries to create a distance between them but Yuriy´s hand on her shoulder doesn´t let go.  

"Yuriy, what´s wrong?" Hiromi asks, his stare must have felt heavy, just as his touch. 

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that," He replies flatly, hand moving to rest on his hip as he shifts his weight: finally letting go of her. "You're forcing yourself, aren't you?" His tone is not amused, or gentle: it's accusing. 

"...How did you notice? Hiromi asks in a low voice, one of her hands moving to touch her lower stomach, just as if she's in pain. 

"I'm a captain: it's my job." 

The group of bladers stop after a while as they notice they´re missing two of their friends. Boris looks down at his Captain and looks puzzled upon seeing Hiromi so close to him, and avoids looking at them all. 

“Are you okay, Hil?” Takao asks, Kai too shifts to look back at the only woman in the group. 

Her cheeks are flushed with a fever even in this humid heat. She´s facing Yuriy as if she doesn't want the others to see her expression. Yuriy´s eyes rest on her before he looks at the others.

“I'm goo–!” Hiromi starts stubbornly. 

“Think she needs a rest. I´ll walk her back to the dojo, you continue to enjoy yourselves.” Yuriy interrupts Hiromi, earning him a surprised look. 

Kai raises a brow. 

“You're all here to catch up right?” Yuriy says, giving Kai one of his don´t-argue-with-me stares. 

“...Sure, you have my number if anything happens.” Kai says after a small silence, red eyes moving to Hilary. 

The Russian Captain gets more and more aware of all of these people´s bonds with each other. With how Kai too has grown, treasures all of them. The warmth in his chest seems to grow. Yuriy looks at his team and the Bladebreakers´ retreating backs before he looks at the woman by his side. 

“Your stomach aches?” Yuriy asks, waiting for her patiently as they start to climb down the stairs together. 

“Yeah….” Hiromi starts. “Bad cramps.” 

Yuriy doesn´t ask for more of an explanation than that. It´d be too invasive, and he can tell this situation is already making the girl awkward as it is. The silence between them grows gentle: forgiving. Just as if the strong front Hiromi had tried to keep up had fallen and she accepts the situation as it is.

The walk home goes smoothly, and Yuriy unlocks the door once Hiromi gives him the key.  Yuriy would have been more relaxed if Takao´s grandfather was there, but the old man seems to be on a trip with his friends. Playing bingo, or what old people do here in Japan. Closing the door, Yuriy heards Hiromi into one of the rooms they´ve used as sleeping quarters during their stay. 

“Rest.” Yuriy tells her, gesturing to his futon, the mattress and sheets on the floor. 

Hiromi lays down just as Yuriy asks, and closes her eyes. Leaving her alone for just a short moment he returns with a damp cloth and a small bowl of water. Yuriy kneels down at her side, eyes taking in how damp her fringe is from sweat, how pale she is… Yuriy takes the wet towel and places it on her forehead. 

“You're too stubborn for your own good.” Yuriy says at last.

“...You´re supposed to be kind and sweet to those who are sick.” Hiromi answers in a  pout. 

“So you're finally admitting you're not well?” Yuriy can´t keep a smirk from forming on his lips.

“Just didn't want it to get in the way, you know?” Hiromi says. “Everyone was excited, and I didn't want to miss out. Can you get my bag, I have some pills there.”

Yuriy gets up, and finds Hiromi´s bag after a bit of a search, and goes and gets a glass of water for her as well. 

“Thanks.”

Silence drags out between them but Yuriy doesn´t let it bother him this time. He helps her rearrange the wet cloth on her forehead after she settles once more. Yuriy sits down more comfortably, his eyes resting on Hiromi as she seems to relax and rest. Like this he notices more things about her that he had missed before. The length of her dark eyelashes, the smallness of her nose, how her hair has hints of different shades of  brown and not only the one he first had seen. Hiromi´s breathing changes as she falls asleep. Yuriy waits by her side for a while longer before he gets up and gives her privacy. 

After a few hours the others return home. Yuriy is sitting in the kitchen reading, but puts a finger over his lips and makes a “shhh” sound. Kai glares back at the noisiest members of the team before he ventures deeper into the room, putting a hand on Yuriy´s shoulder for a short moment. 

Hiromi joined them for dinner, and Yuriy is content to see she isn't as pale as she was when they first returned to the dojo. As if she is sensing Yuriy observing her, Hiromi looks up from her bowl of udon and smiles at him. Yuriy blinks, then nods his head a bit awkwardly before returning to his conversation with the others. 

Even if it's getting late, and dark outside, the heat is still making Yuriy´s skin damp with sweat. As the others loudly take part in some card games indoors Yuriy sneaks out the door, and sits down by the koi pond outside. The Kinomiya dojo has a small Japanese garden in the back, and it has a calming effect on him. 

Yuriy isn´t sure how long he sits there by himself. However, after a while, the door behind him slides open and he hears the padding of feet as someone approaches him from behind. The man can soon tell who it is as the scent of vanilla and coconut washes over him. 

“Hey.” Hiromi says, sitting down by his side. 

Yuriy looks at her as Hiromi sits down by his side. Taking in her expression once more as they´re now a bit closer, only greeting her when he´s sure she seems fine. 

“I just wanted to say thanks.” She continues. “Thanks for helping me today.”

“It´s nothing.”

Yuriy can't help but flinch just a little as her hand touches his for the briefest of moments. Hiromi´s skin is warm, soft, and leaves him all too quickly. Blue eyes move to take in her profile as Hiromi continues to talk. Her voice bright and a little bit loud, not caring if the topic would bore Yuriy or not, she talks away.  Yuriy can´t say it bothers him one bit. 

It seems like just like his brothers, Yuriy is forming new connections as well. 

[jomiddlemarch]

Did they/didn't they + I didn't mean to turn you on, for Darklina, please! 🖤

Ivan, who knew, wouldn’t say a word, Saints vex him. Fedyor, who also knew, wouldn’t say anything either, out of marital solidarity or sheer impishness; the latter was supported by the perpetual display of his dimples. The gossip about the status of Alina’s relationship with the General, dating back to that first day in his billowing silk tent when General Kirigan raised her grubby linen sleeve far higher than he had any real need to in order to test her properly, was as present as pickled herring at every meal, as mulled over as the last glass of kvas in any bottle. Alina, too busy trying to make up for the lost years of education and camaraderie at the Little Palace, was oblivious to the chatter and the Grisha were collectively too astute to let even the faintest hint of their speculation reach their General’s ears, but to Ivan, the damage was done.

“I thought Zoya would choke on her tongue when she heard Alina mention her presentation to the Tsar,” Fedyor remarked, in what was supposed to be refuge of their marriage-bed. Ivan lay back and looked at the canopy above them, letting Fedyor’s words drift around like stardust. “Alina complained about the gold veil, she was really rather funny about it, but it was clear she didn’t realize the significance of it, or the General taking her hand, well, let’s just say I was relieved Zoya could only whip up a tornado and not burn the Little Palace to the ground. I would have been a pile of cinders, Vanya.”

“Zoya should have better self-control,” Ivan said. “And her expectations about her own…assignation with the General were grossly out of proportion.”

“Marie is convinced they are betrothed,” Fedyor said.

“Betrothed?”

“The myrtle binding,” Fedyor said. “It is extremely amusing to imagine the General wearing a myrtle wreath—”

“He wouldn’t want to muss his hair,” Ivan said, just this side of scoffing. Fedyor batted him lightly on his broad, scarred shoulder.

“Vanyushka!”

“I grant you, he’s entitled to his vanity,” Ivan said. “And it never interferes with his command, but for a ceremony—Marie is blinded by her own romantic ideals. She would have the Sun Summoner trussed up in frills and ribbons—”

“Sergei asked David what he thought and David said it was impossible, a man like the General, a woman, a girl like Alina, one so fair, one so dark, they’d never be able to bridge the distance between them,” Fedyor said.

“He’s just talking about Genya,” Ivan said. “Though I’m impressed he imagines himself in General Kirigan’s place.”

“He’d be Alina,” Fedyor said. Ivan laughed but it was true.

“I honestly think they don’t even know themselves,” Ivan said. “It’s enough to drive me mad some days. She blushed red as Nina’s favorite kirtle last week when she came in and heard him singing in the bath, which, I admit, it’s startling when you hear how clear a tenor he has and I might have thought him a fresh recruit to the First Army by his own expression, both of them overcome, painfully obviously with the most fearful lust, Fedya, the General looked feral. I almost knocked over that overdone horse sculpture the Tsarevich commissioned for the War Room just to break the tension—”

“You just hate that stallion, milyy,” Fedyor said.

“It’s ugly,” Ivan said. “And crass. It’s perfectly Lantsov and it has no place in the Little Palace.”

“Are you going to say anything?”

“About the sculpture? There’s no point, the General hates it as much as I do but the ramifications of its removal are too great—”

“No, malysh, about them,” Fedyor said. “I take my cue from you on this score.”

“He wouldn’t want us to say anything,” Ivan said. “Yea or nay. Not until the pot is bigger—he knows we can’t afford that dasha in the country on our pay. He’s spoken of it, how important it is for a couple to have their own retreat, a home, how he wants that for all the Grisha.”

“This, right now, is enough for me, Vanyushka,” Fedyor said softly.

“I know. But I want more for you,” Ivan replied. “The General wants to remake Ravka, the entire world, for her and she wants to make night into day for him. I can want a dasha with a paddock and a grape arbor for you, Fedya. They understand.”

[siumerghe]

Do you know of any other characters similar to Xi'er and Fyodor Basmanov, the looks-cute-but-is-actually-evil kind (or at least does some pretty bad stuff) ?

Thank you for this ask, Anon! I've been thinking about the similarities between Xie'er and Fyodor recently, and now you gave me the nudge to write about them. x)

If we take only this looks-cute-but-is-actually-evil kind (or at least does some pretty bad stuff) criterion, then there are tons of characters who fit this description: from many anime villains and anti-heroes to, say, Damien from Omen or Tom Ripley from The Talented Mr. Ripley.

However, Xie’er and Fyodor have much more in common than this, in terms of character dynamics, tropes associated with them, etc:

- Both are young men, who are utterly, fanatically devoted to their mentors - older men in the position of power and authority.

- Their relationship with their mentors has sexual undertones: quite unambiguous in case of Fyodor and Ivan (historically true, and Eisenstein’s movie reflects it as much as it was possible in the 40s in the USSR), and more like a one-sided crush in case of Xie’er. Opinions may differ but personally I believe Wang Ruolin’s words that he didn’t portray Zhao Jing’s feeling for Xie’er as sexual, and that from Zhao Jing’s side it was only parental love (in his interpretation Zhao Jing didn’t intend to kill or harm Xie’er). There are hints that smth sexual does go on between them, but in any case Zhao Jing sees Xie’er and himself as first and foremost “father and son” while Xie’er would definitely prefer “lovers”.

- Both Xie’er and Fyodor are ready to kill and to be killed for the sake of their mentors.

- Both find pleasure in killing - especially killing those who disrespect their crush idol mentor.

- Both are connected to a sinister and murderous organization: Xie’er leads “Venomous Scorpions”, Fyodor is one of the leaders of the tsar’s terror squad, the Oprichniki.

- Their personalities are shaped by their mentors, and not in a good way: pure-hearted Fyodor is corrupted by Ivan’s influence, Xie’er is groomed by Zhao Jing to be his obedient tool, his secret murder weapon.

- Both have feminine features, and both fulfill the roles of wives for their mentors: 

Xie’er wears heavy makeup, his hanfu looks similar to a woman’s because of its light fabric and frilly skirt. In daily life he performs the duties of Zhao Jing’s wife: taking care of home, choosing furniture, preparing tea, etc. He also strongly identifies himself with female lovers like Liu Qianqiao and Luo Fumeng.

Fyodor serves as a replacement of Ivan’s dead wife, Anastasia, being directly offered by his father to the tsar as such. During the banquet he dances in female dress, with Anastasia‘s ryasna (a kind of traditional Slavic temporal jewelry, which she wears during the wedding) attached to his mask. (More about Anastasia and Fyodor here: https://siumerghe.tumblr.com/post/161387702250/sergei-eisensteins-ivan-the-terrible-anastasia)

- Both are prone to jealousy: Xie’er is jealous to Xie Wuyang, Song Huairen, Wuchang Gui and basically to anyone who steals his yifu’s attention, Fyodor - to Vladimir.

- Their mentors are their one and only passion, the axis of their lives, but in the end this passion becomes their undoing: Xie’er continues to pursue Zhan Jing’s dream and chooses to die together with Zhao Jing, Ivan unintentionally causes Fyodor’s death in the unfinished Part III of Eisenstein’s movie. (Historically, it’s unclear what happened to Fyodor: he isn’t mentioned anywhere after his father’s execution, but his wife and children didn’t suffer exile. Most popular versions are that he was either executed together with his father or became/was forced to become a monk.)

Also I have an impression that some Zhaoxie scenes from Word of Honor are sort of inspired by Eisenstein’s Ivan the Terrible. (Although, in the modern cinematography, what isn’t inspired by Eisenstein?! The man was a genius. Too bad Stalin was an asshole, to put it mildly.)

(Screenshot in the middle is from Tsar Ivan the Terrible 1991, adaptation of novel Prince Serebrenni by A.K.Tolstoy)

While searching for screenshots for this post I found this video that I liked so I put it here as well:

https://youtu.be/lp9-dZnpPiE

Now, back to the original question: do I know any similar characters? 

Unfortunately, I don’t. Sorry to disappoint, Anon. If anyone can help, please, do!

There is a slightly similar pairing dynamics in the Chinese tv-series Men with Sword: a general utterly devoted to his not quite good-natured king, for whom he is ready both to kill others and to sacrifice his life, but neither of them are evil, and their age difference isn’t big, so it’s a loose similarity at best.

Update: I think Littlefinger and Sansa Stark (from the books! not from the tv series!) are a bit similar. It’s unclear what are they to each other: secret lovers? Father and daughter? Mentor and pupil? Seems like everything at once. He is slowly corrupting her but at the same time she is his princess, his little treasure. And she benefits from his lessons and becomes smarter and more self-confident.

Also, perhaps, this will be of use:

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FaceOfAnAngelMindOfADemon

[burnsopale]

So back in August I ensconced myself in a cabin on a mountain to do some writing, and I decided to do a take on the classic “Volkov returns from prison”-scenario.

I got five chapters and 35 000 words in and I will never ever finish it because I have no dicipline. So I figured I could at least share some of the readable bits with you.

Working title: Ashen Characters in this clip: BBA, Russian boys, PPB, mention of the Euro-team Setting: 7 years after season one, Russia, a beyblade park in the evening Summary: Volkov has escaped from prison, attacked PPB headquarters and taken back Black Dranzer. The Russian boys have been living with the PPB, and were used and hurt in the attack. Yuriy left with Volkov for unknown reasons. Daitenji Kogoro has gathered the troops and sent them to Russia to find out what Volkov is up to. Meanwhile, Kai’s grandfather is on his deathbed, and Kai is struggling to deal with it.

The crowd swelled, until there was no way that Takao was going to get any kind of private conversation with his friends. He gave up on the notion for the present, and threw himself into matches. He played the kids who wanted to, holding back as much as he could and leaving Seiryuu simmering in the blade, but eventually they called for a match between Takao and Kai.

Takao loved blading against Kai; somehow, he could never do less than his best against Dranzer, but when Kai now took his place on the other side of the small, grounded dish, something felt off to Takao. Kai looked dull, like he was going to the dentist and just had to get it over with. He fitted Dranzer into the shooter with a look like he was miles away.

“Hey,” Takao said, having to raise his voice a little to get past the crowd. “Are you there?”

 Kai looked up, a little surprised. “What sort of trash talk is that? Are you there?”

 “Just checking. I’ll be in your care.”

 “You’ll be under my heel,” Kai said darkly, and now Takao knew something was wrong, but a beybattle had always been Takao’s way to get through to people, so he just bent his knees and raised Dragoon in front of him.

 “Tri, dva, odin! Idi strelyay!”

 Out of the corner of his eye, Takao saw Emily startle, but he’d have to wonder about that some other time because Seiryuu would not be contained any longer and came out roaring.

Dranzer took Dragoon’s attack head on. Seiryuu bent over it like he was confused as to why Suzaku wasn’t joining him. For the longest moment, Kai just stood there, while Takao watched in disbelief.

 Then, as if he was lifting a great weight, Kai breathed in and cried, “Suzaku!”

 Even the vermillion bird herself didn’t so much soar out of the bit chip as climb laboriously out. Seiryuu hissed, offended by this poor showing, and the battle was over in less than a minute.

 Kai picked up Dranzer and went to stand next to Boris and Kyouju without even commenting on the results. The audience was, thankfully, satisfied, but Takao was not.

 He played Eddie and got a much better match out of him; Trypio was one of those tricky blades that you needed strategy and forward thinking to beat.

 Afterwards he got a chance to say two words to Emily about Kai.

 “He is going through a tough time,” she said.

 “Yeah, but he doesn’t usually let it hurt his blading.”

 “He can’t still be grumpy about the finals?” she wondered.

 Takao shook his head. “Nah, he agreed Ralf deserved that one.”

 Emily nodded, biting her lip in pleasure as she thought back. “Ralf was incredible. It was a team win, but he had the best individual result. The data output was like a laden buffet table.”

 “Ooh, buffet! ... Did he lose at all?” Takao didn’t think he had, but he hadn’t been able to catch every battle.

 “Hmm. Rai came close; lightning is good against such massive holy beasts, and it was close for Kai too of course, but no one can quite top the sheer mastery Ralf has over Griffolyon.”

 “It’s not mastery; it’s teamwork,” Takao insisted, frowning.

 “Call it synergy, then,” she said, shrugging. “Ralf knows his business, that’s all I’m saying. They all do, those European bladers.” She chuckled. “You know, Ivan calls them Earthquaker, Wingshaker and Heartbreaker, from back before he learned their names.”

 Takao matched the nicknames to their right bladers in his head. “... What does he call Johnny?”

 “The hedgehog.”

 “What about you?” he asked, nodding to the dish where Max was getting ready to battle Steve. “Are you going to play?”

 She shook her head, a look of pain crossing her sharp features. “Trygator is ... missing. He was taken in the attack. Volkov has it.”

 For a moment, Takao found nothing to say. Inside he was boiling. “We’ll get him back, Emily,” he vowed, clenching his fist. “I swear it.”

 She smiled a dangerous smile, not unlike a crocodile’s. “Yes, we will.”

 Eventually the group detangled themselves from the crowd and began to journey home. The world was growing dark, but the sky was still pale above. Long stretched of road lay without light, which came in handy when they had to escape from a few fans who apparently wanted to know where they were staying.

 They stopped on the lawn outside the hotel where Emily and company were staying, and Takao finally got to ask his question.

 “What happened?”

 The others looked at each other, except Boris who looked down, and Kai, who now said a brief goodnight, reminded them where to meet in the morning, and walked away. Max made a soft sound, but didn’t try to stop him. Kyouju seemed torn between not wanting to pry and dying to know.

 Emily made it easier by briefly telling them of her encounter with Peter Trotty. “Turns out his real name is Trotsky. He’s one of three Borg spies that have been undercover in the PPB for years. Or rather, one of the three we’ve found so far.”

 “What did he mean by that thing he said? Baba who?”

 The Russian boys shifted their feet. Sergei’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent snarl.

 Kyouju could, as usual, not help doing a bit of teaching. “Baba Yaga is the name of a witch in Russian fairy tales. She is an old woman who rides through the woods on a mortar, and lives in a house that stands on four chicken legs.”

 “Chicken legs?” Max echoed doubtfully.

 “She is sometimes an enemy, but can also help the hero or heroine, if they do the tasks she sets them.”

 “In this case,” Sergei said, “she is a real woman. She was in the abbey. She trained us, Ivan and me, and sometimes Yuriy.”

 “Don’t ask about her,” Ivan said, putting his hands over his ears. “I hear the creaking in my head all the time. I thought I was rid of it. I thought it was over!”

 “She is dead,” Sergei said with conviction. It sounded like something he needed to believe. “She was old when I came to the abbey; she must be dead. But they had her voice on a tape recorder and ... it’s hard to disobey.”

 “Fuck her!” Ivan exclaimed, and then grew suddenly pale as if he had said something dangerous. “No more,” he said, more lowly. “She’s a fairy tale now. Only fit for scaring children.”

 For a while they stood in silence, and then Kyouju asked the other question, the one that had been hanging over them all day. “Why did Yuriy go?”

 “Because he’s an idiot!” Boris said, holding up clawed hands like he would like to wrap them around Yuriy’s throat. He turned away and roared behind his teeth up at the darkening sky. “He’s a stupid mudak! Fuck!” He kicked a turf of grass so dirt sprayed up. “Fuck, fuck fuck!”

 They watched him stomp repeatedly on the uprooted bit of turf, and then move on to a flower that was unlucky enough to stand nearby.

 “What Borya said,” Sergei agreed.

 “But we’re to blame too,” Eddie added, pulling his jeans jacket around himself like he was cold. “We thought we were doing a good job making them feel at home.”

 “We thought Michael was taking care of Yuriy,” Steve said, stern with himself. “But Michael and Yuriy are nothing alike. It didn’t work out.”

 “And we didn’t notice,” Eddie finished.

 “Don’t talk like that,” Ivan hissed. “Like we were your homework!”

 “But you were,” Emily said in her factual, merciless way. “At first. Then you became our friends. Now you are ours, whether you like it or not. You won’t rest until Yuriy is liberated, but neither will we. He’s coming back home with us.”

 “We’re with you too,” Max said quickly.

 Takao and Kyouju nodded determinedly.

 “The first step is to figure out where Volkov is and what he is planning,” Kyouju said.

 “And that means getting to bed, so we are ready for tomorrow,” Emily added. “Come on, boys. I promised Judy I’d tuck you all in by ... well not this hour, but she doesn’t need to know that.”

 Takao, Max and Kyouju watched them go, Sergei grabbing Boris by the lapel and pulling him away from the flowers he was chewing up. Then they turned and headed for their own hotel and their beds.

 “What do you think we’ll find tomorrow?” Max wondered.

 “We’re going back to the abbey,” Takao answered. “We could find anything.” A feeling of foreboding was growing in his stomach.

 Takao surprised everyone by being the first to get up that morning. He was too keyed up to sleep any longer. He was digging into his second round of breakfast when the others arrived, but politely stuck around to keep them company until they too were finished. It gave him time for round three anyway.

 “You’d think I don’t feed you,” Dad said as he brought his plate to the table.

 “You’d think Grandpa doesn’t feed you,” Takao retorted, looking at the mountain of food on his dad’s plate.

 Kyouju sipped his tea, two slices of toast with honey lying neatly on a plate in front of him. “Like father like son, I suppose.”

 “They snore like father and son too,” Max said, yawning as he took a seat between Kyouju and Kai.

 Kai smiled. He had his own room.

 Their friends arrived from the other hotel a little before ten o’clock, and at ten precisely, two large black cars came to a halt in front of the hotel doors. A huge man stepped out of the first car. He had bushy moustaches and bushy eyebrows, and a great big belly, and he wore shorts, sneakers and a yellow Hawaii shirt that looked deeply out of place in the middle of the city. He shook hands with Takao’s dad, and with Kai and Emily.

 “Hello hello, everywan,” he said, sounding exactly as jolly as you’d expect, like a big Russian santa. “My name is Gregor Gregorovitsj. You can call me Gregor. I will be your guide today. I understand that some of you will be coming with me to look at the papers and other inventory that we cleared out of the abbey, while some others of you,” He looked to Takao’s dad. “Want to go see the abbey for yourself.”

 He looked at them expectantly. Then his eyes alighted on Sergei, and travelled to Boris, and down to Ivan.

 “Oh.” He said. He scratched his head. “... They didn’t tell me why you wanted to go there. Why would you want to?”

 “You haven’t heard about Vladimir Volkov escaping from prison?” Emily asked.

 Gregor looked surprised, and then a little embarrassed. “To be honest, nobody tells me anything. I am only archivist, but I speak English, so they sent me. I have never been guide before.” He frowned. “But if that man has escaped ... hmm ... that explains some things. I may not be told anything, but I do hear things.” He frowned a little more. Kai cleared his throat, startling him out of his thoughts. “But we should get going! Okay, those who want to go to abbey go in the first car; the driver knows way, and someone will meet you there to show you around. Everyone else, in second car with me.”

 “Who is going where?” Takao wondered. “I’m coming with you, Dad.”

 “As am I,” Kai said.

 “And me.” Boris took a step away from his own group towards theirs. “You won’t find anything without one of us going with you.”

 Kai turned to him. “Then it should be Ivan or Sergei.”

 “No,” Boris said simply. “It will be me.”

 Emily pushed her glasses up and surveyed her troops. “Sergei is taking point on the textual evidence, and Steve and I read enough Russian to aid him. Daitenji Kogoro mentioned a warehouse with inventory, so Eddie and Ivan are going there.”

 Kai rolled his eyes in disgust. “And how do we know you won’t have another episode?” he asked Boris bluntly. “You think going back to that place won’t trigger any memories?”

 Boris lifted his head stubbornly. “There will not be an episode. I am going.”

 “You are not safe,” Kai growled.

 “Stop it!” Takao placed himself between them, facing Kai. “If Boris says he will be fine, then he will be.”

 “Why?” Kai sneered. “Because you believe in him?”

 “Because I trust him,” Takao answered.

 Dad put a hand on Kai’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kai; we’ll be together the whole time. If anything should happen, we can handle it, but I think Boris knows best if he will be alright or not.”

 Kai shrugged off the hand. “I agree,” he spat. “I just also think he would lie about it.”

 Emily, Eddie and Steve were looking on in confusion and shock, while Ivan and Sergei’s faces were growing dark.

 Boris said something in Russian that was clearly an offer to throw hands, and Kai turned back to him like he absolutely meant to take that offer and go through Takao if he had to, until Max suddenly stepped in front of Kai and drove him backwards.

 “That’s enough, Kai!”

 Takao exhaled in relief as he saw Kai’s attention snap to Max with the irresistible awareness that Max always commanded of him.

 “This isn’t about Boris,” Max said, putting his hands on his hips and leaning forward like he was at work and lecturing one of his kindergardeners. “It’s about you. If you don’t want to go to the abbey, then you don’t have to! But don’t take it out on Boris!”

 Kai’s face got all red and pinched.

 Max straightened up and exhaled. “Kai.” He shook his head. “I’ll come too, and like Kinomiya-san says, we’ll go together, and if you’re scared I can hold your hand and then it will be fine-”

 “Just get in the car,” Kai said in a strangled voice and immediately followed his own advice.

 “Guess I’m coming with you,” Max said, nodding to himself like he thought he had done a good job, and Takao thought so too.

 Max had a way of diffusing – or confusing – Kai that sometimes came in handy.

 Takao just wished they could get to the heart of the problem. This was not about the abbey, he didn’t think so, though it was about going together, and about being lonely even when you were surrounded by friends.

 “Well,” Gregor said, swinging his hands back and forth by his sides. “That was awkward. Would you like to go now?”

 Kyouju decided to go with Ivan and Eddie to the warehouse, and so the teams were agreed upon.

 Takao didn’t know what Daitenji-san wanted them to find in that black stone labyrinth, but as they left the city centre and began to near the desolate edges where Volkov had picked up so many of Moscow’s orphaned and abandoned boys, his feeling of foreboding grew stronger. Something was waiting for them. Something they were not prepared for.

[kallypsowrites]

Siege and Storm Thoughts

I have some mixed feelings about this book. It’s definitely not as strong of an entry as the first one for a variety of reasons. But lets start with stuff I like:

1. Alina. I really enjoy her as a protagonist. I like seeing her navigate power and balance of power because I think she proves herself good with it at most every turn. She listens to people, takes advice, stays away from her darker impulses. She never has a moment when she goes too far. It is a shame that her gaining power is still kind of framed as a negative thing, but I’ll get to that in my things I didn’t like section. Overall, she’s good. Still funny. Still blunt. Still very likable and relatable.

2. Nikolai. I LOVE Nikolai. His charisma, his intelligence, his honesty, his genuinely good intentions. He’s a good boy all around. He really is this perfect medium between Mal and the Darkling. Ambitious but not evil. And he has more of a sense of humor than the other two as well. He is consistently the most helpful to Alina while Mal is mostly causing her grief throughout the book. I honestly don’t know why he’s not the endgame love interest. More on that later.

3. Tolya and Tamar. Great new characters. They’re strong. They fight. They are also very helpful to Alina while also calling her on stuff when she makes a mistake. I especially love Tamar but that’s probably because it is hinted she is gay. I’ve decided she is and no one can tell me otherwise. She is my wife.

4. The Darkling. There’s not near enough of him in this book, but he’s a sinister villain and what conversations he has with Alina are electric. The first few chapters *chefs kiss*. This man is never not going hard with his dialogue. And he is a real, credible threat. Love his plan at the end. I like smart villains. Fuck him for hurting Genya though. That’s my girl.

5. Zoya. She got to be more of a person this time. I still think there’s a lot of development left for her and she’s not the most fleshed out, but I like pragmatic characters who put their feelings aside for what they think is the greater good.

6. The beginning and the end. This is a weird thing to say but I think both the opening of the book (up until they get to the Little Palace) and the close of the book (Nikolai’s birthday on) are really strong sections with some of the best material yet. It’s the middle that I have some problems with.

Things I didn’t like:

1. Pacing. The first 10 chapters are very well paced. The return of the Darkling, finding another amplifier, intro of new characters, an exciting trip through the fold on a flying ship. I was really gelling with the novel. And then the pacing just grinds to a halt. Most of the content in the little palace feels like padding out the novel waiting for the final battle to get here. Some of the conflicts, like the one with Mal, seem so contrived to stall for time. We spend a lot of time with side characters but I don’t feel I get to know most of them that well. It just feels like a lot of...waiting. And I definitely found myself skimming through some parts.

Certain things were dragged out for too long. The reason behind the Darkling and Alina’s visits for one thing. I think that could have been revealed to her before the climax. Maybe earlier on to give things more stakes. She realizes that she is the one calling to him and tries to stop but it just keeps happening. Maybe he’s even exploiting the connection to gather intel. There’s just a lot more that could have been done with those meetings to keep the pacing up.

It’s funny because a lot of book 1 was spent at the little palace, but it had momentum then. Alina had a lot of drive because she was trying to reach a goal. In this book, they are preparing for a goal to reach them to respond, so it takes away some agency that could keep the plot moving. I also think we could have gotten to the climax a bit faster because its ultimately only a few chapters. We could have expanded that. All in all this book is about 100 pages longer than the first but it doesn’t need to be.

2. Side characters. Outside of the leads and a few side characters like Tamar, Tolya, Zoya and David, this book really does not delve much more into the characters. Sergei, Marie, Nadie, Fedyor, Ivan...they all end up kind of nothing characters and when half of them die its just like......oh. Kay. David is given a bit more development as is Zoya but it feels kind of superficial with them as well. I’m a little more interested but not exactly forming a connection. And I can’t even say that Tamar and Tolya are that complex. They’re just archetypes that I like done well.

It’s clear that the author likes to focus on her leads. On Alina, Mal, and Nikolai (and the Darkling when he’s there). Alina obviously has to be there for everything. She’s the lead. But it feels like all the complexities are given to the main cast and the side characters kind of suffer. So in the final battle they’re canon fodder. As long as my leads survive I don’t mind. I cared about Genya, despite her barely being in this book, but that’s only because she was written so well in the last one. I guess I can applaud Leigh for being able to flesh out six POV characters in Six of Crows cause she clearly grew in that regard.

3. Mal. I think I was willing to let some things in book 1 slide because like...growing pains, right? They’ve never acknowledged their feelings before. He says some gross things but he does apologize. I’m not that interested in him, but fine. But book 2 his behavior continues to be gross. He’s often weirdly victim blamey at Alina, scared of her power even though she uses it well, and just so unwilling to accept how she’s changed. He’s also a hypocrite, doesn’t listen to her and makes everything about him. His moments of good banter with her are eclipsed by how constantly frustrating he is.

Not to mention he doesn’t really...have anything to do in this book? Like, outside of finding the Sea whip...he has no importance to the plot. He’s Alina’s guard. He doesn’t do much of significance to help her or the war effort. I thought they were going to give him the goal of tracking the fire bird to make that his plot thread but they decided to push that off. Which just shows that his only plot utility is as a tracker--an ability he has and not like...one of his personality traits.

And the book acknowledges that he feels useless but I feel like he still should have had something to do other than cause extra drama for Alina and then save her at the end. He just feels so tacked on most of the time.

4. Alina’s trajectory. Like...I know the endgame. That’s been spoiled for me. But I resent it. I resent whenever a woman gaining power (especially when she treats it well) is viewed as a bad thing. I resent whenever an ‘ordinary life’ is elevated above like...having magic. And if there’s going to be an endgame, Nikolai just makes more sense to me right now. Darklina will end in tragedy. That seems pretty clear. But Nikolai just feels like so much better than Mal. I have to read the other book to fully get my thoughts together on this though.

That’s it for Siege and Storm. See you all when I start Ruin and Rising!

[livingprophecy]

FEDYOR  +  REWRITTEN  CANON.

this  post  includes  fedyor’s  major  relationships,  as  well  as  my  canon  divergencies  through  the  trilogy  (including  before  and  after  the  books  as  well).  fedyor  is  mainly  book  based,  though  i  am  taking  aspects  from  the  show  including  his  relationship  with  ivan  +  parts  of  his  personality.  otherwise  though,  i  am  headcanon  based,  as  fedyor  was  much  more  of  a  background  character,  and  i’m  writing  him  as  having  survived  through  the  ending  of  siege  and  storm  /  ruin  and  rising.  i  am  exclusive  to  nick’s  ivan,  and  shelley’s  nina,  and  they  play  major  parts  in  all  events  of  fedyor’s  canon.  (under the cut for length, personals do not interact).

relationships:  

the  darkling.      fedyor  finished  training  a  few  years  after  ivan  did,  however  was  equal  to  his  level  of  power  (sans  amplifier).  however  he  didn’t  catch  the  darkling’s  eye  only  because  of  his  power;  because  of  the  amount  of  time  that  fedyor  spent  with  ivan,  he  was  constantly  around  to  gain  his  favor.  the  darkling  found  he  was  incredibly  trustworthy,  and  while  he  doesn’t  have  the  same  favor  that  ivan  does,  fedyor  still  has  more  loyalty  for  the  darkling  than  anyone  else  (except  alina,  when  she  comes  into  the  picture).  fedyor  doesn’t  have  the  title  of  oprichniki,  at  least  officially,  unlike  ivan.  but  he  is  considered  to  be  one  of  the  oprichniki  by  ivan  and  the  rest  of  the  guards,  as  he  is  second  to  ivan.  the  darkling  trusts  him  less  as  a  personal  guard,  but  more  in  the  form  of  carrying  out  missions  he’d  trust  few  others  with  (like  finding  nina,  though  this  isn’t  something  i  have  as  part  of  my  main  canon).  

ivan  (@trustbutvcrify​​).      when  fedyor  finished  his  training,  he  noticed  everyone  giving  a  wide  berth  to  ivan,  as  he  was  known  to  be  kind  of  a  dick  and  he  was  the  darkling’s  favored  heartrender.  fedyor  was  not  one  to  back  down  from  a  challenge,  so  he  decided  to  sit  with  the  older  man,  with  friendship  as  a  priority.  it  takes  him  awhile  to  realize  he’s  gone  from  just  conversational  to  flirting,  but  when  he  does,  he  doesn’t  stop,  as  on  the  off  chance  ivan  is  interested,  at  least  he’s  never  pretended  about  his  feelings.  however,  he  wasn’t  exactly  focused  on  pursuing  ivan,  as  he  had  nina  to  focus  on,  and  it  wasn’t  priority  in  the  grand  scheme  of  things.  after  a  battle  with  the  fjerdans  on  the  northern  front  that  nearly  resulted  in  fedyor’s  death,  ivan  kissed  him,  and  the  two  confessed  feelings  for  each  other.  their  hearts  start  to  beat  in  sync  as  they  get  closer,  and  heartrenders  who  are  listening  can  hear  this.  about  six  years  before  the  events  of  the  first  book,  ivan  and  fedyor  are  married  in  a  very  small  ceremony,  where  nina  is  present  as  their  flower  girl.  the  two  are  separated  after  the  events  of  shadow  and  bone,  especially  as  their  hearts  begin  to  beat  individually  once  again,  and  reunite  during  the  fold’s  fall  in  ruin  and  rising.  fedyor  never  judged  ivan  for  choosing  the  darkling’s  side,  and  never  held  any  animosity  because  of  it;  he’s  just  happy  to  have  his  husband  safe  and  back  with  him.  

nina  (@eterneaty​​​).      fedyor  is  19  years  old  when  nina  is  brought  to  the  little  palace  as  a  little  girl.  she  already  shows  an  incredibly  amount  of  heartrender  skill  without  training,  and  fedyor  immediately  feels  sympathetic  for  the  girl.  he  takes  her  under  his  wing  and  gives  her  additional  training,  while  also  looking  out  for  her.  nina  gets  her  love  for  sweets  from  fedyor,  and  the  two  eat  waffles  often  together  while  she’s  growing  up.  both  ivan  and  fedyor  are  like  her  father  figures  while  she’s  at  the  little  palace.  when  nina  starts  to  be  sent  on  missions,  fedyor  is  very  scared  for  her,  but  he’s  confident  in  her  abilities  because  he  helped  to  train  her,  and  so  did  ivan.  he  is  on  the  team  sent  to  find  and  bring  nina  back  (which  occurs  after  the  events  of  ruin  and  rising),  but  his  concern  isn’t  in  the  form  of  betrayal  to  her  country,  but  more  betrayal  to  him,  because  he  feels  like  she’s  picking  a  fjerdan  over  her  family.  also,  he  is  scared  that  things  are  going  to  go  wrong,  but  there’s  nothing  he  can  do  once  she’s  declared  matthias  a  slaver.  

alina.      fedyor  takes  to  calling  alina  solnyshka  (little  sun).  the  reason  he  defects  from  the  darkling  is  in  part  due  to  her  being  “sun  summoner”  of  myth,  but  also  because  she  is  a  young  girl  and  fedyor  wants  to  keep  her  safe  too.  he  is  one  of  few  who  stays  by  her  side,  and  that  knows  she  is  alive  after  her  supposed  martyrdom  in  the  fold.  

books:  

shadow  and  bone.      the  events  in  the  show  with  alina,  genya,  and  fedyor  are  going  to  be  added  into  fedyor’s  main  canon.  the  rescue  of  nina  does  not  occur  during  this  book.  additionally,  he  does  not  defect  until  after  ivan  returns  and  the  two  talk.  

siege  and  storm.      alina  tells  fedyor  about  ivan  nearly  dying  when  the  two  are  reunited,  however  does  not  speak  negatively  about  ivan  (in  regards  to  him  stopping  her  heart),  as  it  isn’t  her  place  to  say  that  and  ruin  fedyor’s  perception  of  his  husband.  fedyor  insists  that  nina  evacuate  with  the  rest  of  the  students  while  they  are  leaving,  and  she  does  so.  fedyor  does  not  die  in  the  fight  during  nikolai’s  birthday.  instead,  he  is  marred  by  the  nichevo’ya,  with  one  long  and  jagged  scar  across  his  chest  and  reaching  up  to  his  neck  (visible  above  the  neckline  of  a  kefta),  and  lighter  claw  marks  on  his  throat  (where  he  was  picked  up  and  thrown  from  the  rooftop).  he  survives  the  fall,  and  tamar  manages  to  speed  up  his  heart  and  wake  him  up.  the  rest  of  his  scars  and  injuries  are  healed  when  he  is  brought  to  the  white  cathedral,  but  his  scars  from  the  nichevo’ya  remains.  he  is  one  of  few  who  is  allowed  to  see  genya,  as  he  has  similar  scarring,  but  it’s  still  in  very  minimal  amounts.  he  does  not  enjoy  his  time  in  the  white  cathedral,  especially  knowing  alina  is  practically  a  prisoner.  

ruin  and  rising.      fedyor  is  present  for  the  events  of  the  book,  traveling  with  the  small  grisha  party  alongside  alina.  he  gets  very  close  to  both  genya  and  zoya,  seeing  them  in  the  same  light  as  he  did  nina  and  alina,  and  finally  being  able  to  take  care  of  the  both  of  them  too.  he  stays  with  genya  and  david  when  alina  seeks  out  the  firebird.  when  alina  mentions  that  the  darkling  has  the  students  as  hostages,  it  only  propels  him  into  being  ready  to  fight  even  more,  knowing  he  would  do  anything  to  keep  his  daughter  safe.  during  the  battle  with  the  darkling,  him  and  ivan  come  face  to  face  for  the  first  time  since  the  end  of  the  first  book,  and  ivan  finally  has  the  confidence  to  defect  from  the  darkling,  having  been  terrified  he  too  could  be  punished  like  genya  or  sergei.  they  fight  side  by  side,  and  as  the  fold  falls,  are  together  once  more.  they  fly  out  on  the  ship  with  alina  and  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  are  part  of  the  understanding  that  alina  was  martyred  in  the  fold.  the  two  heartrenders  reunite  with  nina  outside  the  fold,  and  their  family  may  be  slightly  more  broken  but  they  are  together.  

post  series.      fedyor  and  ivan  take  a  little  while  to  come  to  terms  with  everything,  but  they  are  still  in  love  with  each  other  as  they  always  have  been.  fedyor  struggles  with  the  scarring  on  his  chest,  as  even  after  the  darkling  is  killed,  the  scarring  is  still  deep  and  remaining.  he  visits  alina  with  genya,  david,  and  zoya  during  the  winter  fetes,  as  she  is  still  just  as  important  to  him  as  she  always  was.  a  few  months  later,  nina  leaves  for  a  mission,  is  captured  by  the  fjerdans,  and  fedyor  is  part  of  the  party  sent  to  bring  her  home.  the  events  play  out  similarly  to  the  show.  after  the  events  of  the  books,  fedyor  continues  to  get  very  close  to  genya  and  zoya,  and  considers  them  family  as  well.  eventually,  when  zoya  informs  him  that  nina  is  alive  and  in  ketterdam,  fedyor  begins  to  write  letters  to  her,  hoping  for  a  chance  to  apologize  for  everything.  after  the  events  of  rule  of  wolves,  they  finally  reunite.  

[frostedroyaltea]

"Vanya," Felix grumbled, "stop following me and do your tasks."

"I am. I guess they're in the same direction."

"Uh huh." Felix looked over at Ivan's phone and narowed his eyes. "Why is your name red?"

"Oh Lixa," Ivan said sweetly, "you don't have your glasses on. You must have seen it wrong. Ivan twisted around and turned the screen away. Felix scowled.

"I found my contacts liar." Felix looked back down at his phone and his mouth dropped open as he watched Ivan kill him. it dropped lower when he watched Ivan report it.

"You see who did it?" Piotr asked.

"No. I just saw the long tongue thing impale him."

"That is not-"

"Shh." Ivan pressed a finger to his lips and Felix blinked and stared down at him. "You're a ghost so you can't talk."

"That wasn't a rule when you died last round."

"Scream into the void," Aslan said. He looked at Felix's phone. "Was that you who died?"

"Yes. You should know this. It shows our names on screen. Anyway, Ivan is not being fair." 

"Quite pouting," Piotr chastised. "So the rules changed. It's not that big a deal."

"You don't think it's suspicious he made that rule after I died and he's the one who reported it?"

"No. Why?"

Felix blinked. "Of course not," he grumbled.

"Someone just killed me!" Anatoly yelled. It seemed only Felix noticed the faint smirk on Ivan's lips. 

"Now you can't talk Tolya," Piotr said and he smirked. Anatoly scowled.

"I say we need to do an emergency meeting," Vladimir said. 

The meeting did not come to a final conclusion and Vladimir found himself gawping at his phone. His character was lying there, beheaded.

He opened his mouth to say something but Piotr shushed him. "No talking Blondie." 

Aslan and Sergei shared a look. They looked at Dmitri. Sergei called another meeting.

While the meeting was going on Anatoly, Felix, and Vladimir rages in the hat about the unfairness of it all. All three came to the conclusion Piotr was very much "sus" as the kids would put it. Very much sus indeed.

"Hey!" Ivan cried as he watched his character being thrown out of the spaceship. 

"I knew it!" Felix shouted.

"Shut up Ghost," Sergei said. "And sit back down. You almost knocked the food and my drink on the floor.

"Of course you say your drink. What about other people's drinks?"

"I mentioned the others food didn't I-"

"Maybe we should be more concerned about the stitches he almost pulled out," Piotr said and he sniffed. "Again. For the third time actually."

"I'm sorry-"

"You all are very competitive about this aren't you," Matt said.

"These people are cheating," Vladimir whined, though he later profusely denied it. "Make them stop."

"I don't know. Foggy, should I?"

"Nah. It's pretty entertaining."

"I'll say," Karen said, and she lifted her drink in their direction.

"What the hell! Who killed me!?" Dmitri whipped his head around and scowled at the remaining players.

Piotr stared back nonchalantly. He pointed at Aslan.

"Rude," Dmitri growled at Aslan. "I thought we were supposed to be teammate's!"

"We are! I didn't kill you!"

"That's exactly what you'd say if you did kill me!"

"I didn't!"

"I don't know," Piotr drawled. "Seems pretty sus to me."

Ivan let out a drawn out breath. "Please don't say sus. You're too old."

"Sus sus sus sus sus," Sergei chanted and Aslan cuffed him on the head.

"Knock that off. You're the reason we're banned from using internet words."

"That's another reason," Felix said. "You say stuff like that."

"Guys!" Dmitri shouted. "Would you stop fighting already! Piotr has killed you both already!" 

Sergei and Aslan looked down at phones heads and stared in horror at the glowing red 'defeated'. 

Piotr and Ivan both cheered loudly. "Again!" Ivan shouted and he was immediately shot down.

"I've had enough," Vladimir said. "You both always gang up on everyone. Even if you aren't imposter you team up with them and end up voting them off."

"Well you better find yourself a team mate then spoil sport," Piotr said. He patted Vladimir on the shoulder. "You're losing your game Voldoya."

"I'll show you losing your game," Vlaidmri growled and he lunged at him.

"Hey! Enough of that! Not in the house!"

Vladimir sat back down almost sheepishly. "Sorry Motya."

"You've really mellowed him," Piotr told Matt and Vladimir stood up again. 

"I'll show you mellowed-"

"How about we call it a night," Foggy said. "I think we've had enough of all-" he waved a hand "-this."

"Foggy," Karen said as she stood, "is right. Good night everyone." She waved goodbye as she left and a chorus of goodbyes followed her as she shut the door.

"Goodnight everyone," Foggy said, and he too left.

Piotr insisted he check Felix's stitches again and Felix let him with a sigh. 

"You all staying or going?" Matt asked.

"Leaving," Aslan, Dmitri, and Sergei all said. They left and said they'd be waiting for Piotr by the car.

"You," Piotr pointed a finger at Felix, "don't leave yet. Wait until Matt or Claire or I says it's fine."

"Fine dad," Felix said with a roll of his eyes. 

"Vanya. Same goes for you."

"But-" Ivan whined.

"No but's. Tolya is going to stay here-"

"Uhh, since when?" Matt asked.

"Why do I have to play babysitter," Anatoly huffed.

"Because I said so and because the rest of you are hopeless at being responsible. Goodnight." He spun on his heels and left before any protests could be made. 

Matt sighed in exasperation. "Let's go, I guess." Vladimir stood and followed him into his room.

Somehow Ivan ended up curled around Felix on one of two couches. Felix was horrified to realize the kid was now at least as tall as him.

[falling-feuilles]

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

 CW/TW: Parental Death

Y/N rose early the next morning, sitting up in bed. Soft, golden sun had just begun to seep in through the window, filtering through the curtains. She stretched her arms above her head, wincing as the movement adjusted the bandage on her wrist. Remembering her promise to Alexandra, Y/N stepped out of bed, quickly moving over to her wardrobe. She quickly prepared herself for the morning, struggling to perform simple tasks such as lacing her own stays and closing her own dress. 

Eventually, she opted to call in one of her maids to assist her, an aged woman by the name of Anna. Anna had been working in the household for as long as Y/N had been living there, probably for longer. She plaited Y/N's hair with practice ease, lifting and pinning it into place.

"How's your sister?"

Anna looked up, locking eyes with Y/N in the mirror they sat in front of. She let out a sigh, continuing to finish her task as she answered.

"She says she feels better, but the doctors don't think she'll last a fortnight…"

"When's the last time you visited her?"

"About two months past, my lady."

"You should be there with her, she must be terribly lonely. Take the next few weeks, spend some time with your sister; I'm sure it would increase her spirits greatly."

"You are too kind, my lady."

"Nonsense. Now, be sure to keep me updated on her condition."

"I will, my lady."

 After ensuring that Y/N's dress was situated properly, Anna exited with a curtsy, leaving her to finish any last bits of necessary preparation. 

Y/N adjusted the embroidered shawl around her shoulders to sit on her forearms, assisting the sleeve of her blue dress in covering the bandage, allowing her to avoid any suspicion from the general public. The sun, at this point, denoted the time as roughly seven in the morning. 

The halls were empty as she traversed through them, making her way to the back door and out to the stables. Inside, a stable boy was refilling the water troughs, being careful not to spill. Y/N knocked lightly on the door, trying to avoid frightening the boy, who couldn't have been more than eight or nine in age. He turned, searching for the source of the disturbance; when he saw Y/N, his eyes widened and he quickly set down his bucket, sloshing a small amount onto the dirt floor.

"M-my lady! How c-can I help you?" he stood as straight as possible, attempting to brush the dirt and hay off his trousers.

"I was wondering if you knew where Sergei was, I have a request to make of him," she moved closer to the boy, noticing him tense up as she did.

"Papa's not here right now, he's getting more feed for the horses." 

"Sergei is your father?"

"Yes, my lady," he fidgeted nervously, seemingly preparing for a beratement.

"You must be Ivan! Your father’s told me so much about you; I'm glad we finally had the chance to meet."

 Y/N extended her hand to the boy, beckoning him to take it. When he placed his small hand in her own, she shook it, causing the young boy to smile broadly.

"He's really mentioned me? What did he say?"

"He's always told me what a hard worker you are, and how much you love working with the horses." she continued in a conspiratorial tone, "He tells me you're quite the horse-whisperer." 

Ivan clearly looked up to his father very much, and was more than overjoyed that his father was so impressed with him. 

"Would you like to meet the horses? They're all really nice, except for the big, gray one," he pointed to the large shire on the end. Y/N chucked quietly; that large horse was hers, had been since she was about thirteen.

"What's wrong with him?"

"His name's Emil, he's mean," Ivan whispered, not wanting the horse to hear him, "And he's scary…"

"Maybe you just haven't given him a chance yet; let's go say hello, shall we?"

"If you say so, miss, but I don't think he'll like you very much."

She led the boy over to the stall, feeling his hand grab hers as Emil snorted, moving his head towards the two. Y/N held out her hand, allowing Emil to sniff it before nudging his muzzle against her fingers, blowing hot breath on them with his nose. After seeing this new change in attitude, Ivan seemed eager to interact with the horse. He stood on an overturned bucket with his hand out; he giggled a little when Emil nuzzled his hand, nibbling it with his lips.

"Ivan?” Y/N turned, seeing Sergei enter, cloth sack in hand.

"Good morning Sergei, how are you?"

He seemed surprised to see Y/N in the stables, quickly dropping the feed and bowing.

"What brings you to the stables, my lady?"

"I came to ask a favor of you, but I seem to have gotten distracted. I wasn't aware your son had started helping you care for the horses."

"I'm terribly sorry, my lady, whatever he's done-"

"He's done nothing wrong, Sergei, he's just been introducing me to Emil over here."

Sergei caught on quickly, smiling proudly at his son.

"Thank you for your help Ivan, would you mind feeding Emil a carrot for me?" she continued in a hushed tone, "I think he likes you more than me."

The boy nodded eagerly, moving back to the horse after grabbing the orange treat. Y/N beckoned Sergei to the doors of the stable

"Do you have the time this morning to drive one of the maids to Doctor Federov's then to her aunt's house? She'll direct you where to go."

"Of course, my lady; when are you planning on heading to the Rostovs' today?"

"I was planning on leaving at ten, do you think you'll be back by then?"

"No, my lady, but I will arrange for a cab to take you."

"Excellent. I expect you'll be done by the time the party ends?"

"Yes, my lady, I'll be there."

"Thank you Sergei," she made to leave, thought for a moment, before turning back, "Will you need someone to keep an eye on Ivan for the day while you're away?"

"Yes, my lady, but I expect the women in the kitchen wouldn't mind watching him for me."

"Wonderful. He's a fine boy, Sergei, your wife would be very proud of him."

Sergei smiled, looking over to the boy; he stood in front of Emil, stroking his muzzle and talking to him animatedly.

"Thank you, my lady, I'm honored you think so."

Y/N smiled, waving goodbye to the boy before continuing on her morning stroll.

~

The morning had been a busy one for Y/N. She had accomplished a number of tasks, including, but not limited to; ensuring that all her necessities were packed for the trip, arranging the finances to send to her mother's relatives, and, finally, responding to the influx of letters directed to her Father.

Now, she was finally able to make her way to the Rostovs'. Y/N had become close to the Rostovs through her relationship with Sonja. Sonja's mother had known Y/N's and had been one of the driving forces in helping her parents elope. Y/N's mother had sworn Sonja's to secrecy after discovering her pregnancy. Eventually, at Y/N's christening, Sonja's parents were named her godparents. Until their deaths, they had been a staple in Y/N's early life. Although they had never brought Sonja with them during visits for fear she would expose their activities, Y/N had grown up hearing stories of the girl and, when they finally met at Y/N's first name day celebration with her Father, they connected closely. Through Sonja, Y/N became familiar with Natasha and the other members of her family.

The short cab ride to their home was uneventful. However, when she arrived, she discovered she was not the only guest that day. As she entered the front doors, a butler directed her to the sitting room. A small number of people sat in various locations around the room. This small number consisting of the Rostovs, save for Natasha and Sonja, who were nowhere to be seen, as well as Anna Drubestkaya, her son Boris, Julie Kuragina, and, surprisingly, Pierre.

“Ah, Princess!”  exclaimed the Count, rising from his seat to kiss her hand, “It’s wonderful to see you! I hope you are well?”

“I am, thank you, and yourself?”

“We are doing well, thank you. You know everyone here do you?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Well, do sit down, we were just talking about Pierre and his bear friend, have you heard?”

Y/N looked to Pierre as she sat next to him, he was clearly embarrassed. He looked her in the eyes, desperately begging her to change the subject.

“I have, I have; a… strange business that was,” she paused, quickly looking for any other thing to speak of, “Where are the girls? I’d have thought Natasha would be more than happy to receive guests on her name day.” The Count nodded, gesturing to the far door of the parlor.

“Natasha went to comfort Sonja, she’s upset for some reason or another, you know how it is.” Just as he finished, Y/N saw Natasha peek her head through the door.

“There you are! Natasha, look who’s come to see you!” Natasha’s face lit up, and she moved over to hug Y/N tightly. Y/N returned the hug, pressing a kiss to each of Natasha’s cheeks before pulling away. Natasha moved to her arm, clinging tightly to it. Y/N winced, feeling hot, stabbing pains move up her arm; no one noticed, save for Pierre, who saw her discomfort. 

“I’ve come to wish you a happy name day from myself and Lise, are you excited for your party?”

“Yes, very! Don’t leave yet, I have to help Sonja and Nikolai,” The last part was whispered, as though she was trusting Y/N with an important, yet very obvious, secret.

Natasha moved quickly away from Y/N, seeming to have remembered her true purpose for entering the room. She dragged Nikolai out into the hallway with her, shutting the door behind the two of them. Y/N sat back down, unintentionally cradling her wrist with her left hand, gently adjusting her sleeve. While the other guests continued their conversations as if nothing had happened, Pierre leaned closer to Y/N, whispering in her ear.

“Are you alright?” she started slightly, calming when she noticed Pierre staring at her arm. She placed it back on her lap, turning to respond. 

“Yes I… I’m fine,” she paused, realizing the conversation she wanted to have shouldn’t take place in front of everyone. She stood, beckoning Pierre to follow her into the hallway. The others were too preoccupied in discussing Nikolai and Boris’ future service to notice their disappearance. They stopped in a small alcove, near the sitting room but far enough to avoid being overheard

“Listen, I wanted to apologize to you about last night, It wasn’t-”

“There’s no need to apologize,” he interrupted, “You were right…”

“No, I… are you alright?” she asked, noticing Pierre’s paleness and the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, “You look awful Pierre, are you ill?”

“Y/N, my father...” he grabbed her hand, looking for some semblance of support; Y/N breathed in sharply, feeling her wrist spasm in Pierre’s hand. His brows knitted in confusion, “What-? Y/N, what’s going on, are you hurt? Do I need to call a doctor?” the concern in his voice was evident, but she didn’t want to trouble him.

“No, I-I hit it on a… a dresser last night, it’s nothing serious.” 

He clearly didn’t believe her, eyes finally noticing the bandage edging out beneath her sleeve.

“N/N…“ he reached out, resting his hand gently on her other forearm, “What happened?”

Before Y/N could answer, she heard their names being called. Pierre made to ask again, but she shook her head, gesturing that they should go back into the room. Apparently, they hadn’t moved quickly enough. Anna Drubetskaya came into the hallway, looking suspiciously between the two before continuing.

“Pierre, shouldn’t you be with your father? Hasn’t he been worsening?”

“Your father?” Y/N asked, seeing the distress on Pierre’s face, “Oh, Pierre…” He shook off her concern, plastering a weak smile on his face.

“Yes, I’ll be heading there later.”

Anna dragged the two back into the room, away from their brief reprieve, and back into the reality of their lives.

~

Natasha’s name day party was just as Y/N had expected. It was packed full of loud music, dancing, and far too many people for her tastes. She made a concerted effort to stay by Pierre’s side; she didn’t want to force him to see his father, nor did she want to make him feel guilty by not going. That is, until the message came. When Pierre discovered his father had another stroke and wasn’t expected to last the night, Y/N, with help from Anna Drubteskaya, managed to convince him to see his father in his final moments.

In Y/N’s carriage, Anna was talking quickly to Pierre, explaining how he was to go about dealing with the situation.

“It's a matter of life or death. You must be a man now. You have to look after your own interests. Don't expect your Cousin Vassily to. You need to let the old Count see you before he dies. He might give a little sign, you know,” she paused, allowing him a moment to think before continuing, “In any case, it will be so much better for your soul if you can kiss him before he goes, he always loved you.”

Y/N sat beside him, holding his hand out of Anna’s sight; after seeing the two alone earlier, she had continued to pester them all evening. Y/N rubbed her thumb across the top of his hand, attempting to lessen the tremors stemming from it. He looked at her sadly, before turning to the window.

“Yes, yes, I've been a poor sort of son to him…”

~

When the trio arrived at the Counts’ residence, a group of men, dressed all black, stood outside near a hearse. Pierre, seeing this, rushed out before the carriage fully stopped. Y/N chased after him, holding her skirt to allow for freer movement.

“So,” sneered Prince Vassily, seeing them enter, “At last you deign to turn up at your father’s deathbed.”

“Am I too late?” Pierre was winded, eyes scanning desperately about for any sign of his father, “We saw the undertakers outside and I thought…”

“Just touting for business; The Count still lives.”

Pierre let out a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing slightly.

“But really,” the Prince continued, looking disdainfully upon the man’s ruffled visage, “What were you thinking of?”

“I’m so-”

“You have no business here, I think.” Vassily glared at Y/N and Anna, who had followed close on the heels of Pierre.

“I have a perfect right to be here. You know very well the Count is my near relation, and poor Boris his dear godson.” Anna paused, allowing herself a moment before continuing, “Who has more claim than us to be here at this sad time?”

“Yes, yes, very well. But she,” he gestured to Y/N, “Has no claim to be here.”

“But-”

“He’s right, Pierre. I’ll wait in the hall for you.” She exited as Anna and Pierre entered the old Count’s rooms. As soon as the door closed behind her, she heard whispers between Vassily and Catiche; they spoke of the will naming Pierre as the rightful heir, plotting to destroy it. Y/N listened, furious at the pair. As soon as she heard the click denoting the opening of the Count’s doors, she cracked the hall door ajar.

“Anna!” she whispered, trying to catch her attention. Anna noticed Y/N peering around the edge of the door and moved quickly to her.

“What is it?”

“Vassily and Catiche mean to remove Pierre from the will, they have a copy naming him as the recipient for the Count’s fortune. You must do something, they’ll surely leave him destitute!” Anna nodded, spotting the folder Catiche held.

“Wait here, I may need your help.” Y/N did as she was told, peering through the crack in the door. She saw Anna approach Catiche, grabbing at the paper in her hands. Pierre stood off to the side, miserable and dissociated, unaware of the squabble between the two women unti Anna called him to her. Vassily attempted to break it up, halting only when a woman ran out of the Count’s room, proclaiming his death with a sob. In the chaos, Y/N was able to reenter the room, heading straight for Pierre and Anna.

“I don’t understand…”

“You are Count Bezukhov now, my dear friend.”

Pierre stood, clearly in some state of shock. Y/N grabbed his arm gently, moving to guide him out of the room. He stared at her blankly, unable to understand his new place in the world. Anna patted him on the arm, leaving to return to her home.

“My friend,” Vassily approached, catching the attention of both Y/N and Pierre, “We sin so much and deceive so much, and all for what?” His philosophical question was left unanswered, and he moved away from the pair, back into the Count’s room.

“Pierre, let’s go.” he nodded slowly, allowing her to lead him to her carriage. Sergei noticed the guest, looking to Y/N for instruction. Y/N looked at Pierre, quickly deeming him unfit to be alone for the time being.

“He’ll stay with us tonight.”

“No… I-I don’t want to impose,” Pierre protested weakly.

“Pierre, you could never.” 

Sergei nodded, moving to open the door; Y/N guided Pierre up the steps, sitting him down next to her on the bench. The carriage began to move, lilting back and forth on the uneven road. Y/N looked at Pierre, noticing his expression shift from one of shock and disbelief, to one more akin to sorrow. Despite not knowing his father well, Pierre still cared for him deeply; the Count had provided Pierre with things he would never be able to attain had it not been for his father; an education, social status, but… not the affection one would expect from a father. Still, Pierre had loved him.

“Pierre… I’m sorry about your father…” he nodded, unable to speak. They sat in silence for a few minutes, shoulders pressed together. Pierre reached for her hand, being mindful, even in his dazed state, to avoid the injured one. He placed his head in the other hand, trying to contain himself.

They sat like that for the carriage ride, neither speaking; there was no need for words. Nothing Y/N could say would change what lay in the future for Pierre, and Pierre couldn’t bring himself to speak, knowing he wouldn’t be able to maintain the last semblances of composure he still had. When the carriage finally stopped, Y/N helped Pierre down again, making sure he exited the carriage safely. He was despondent, following her around like a young child. She led him inside, instructing the nearest maid to arrange for a tray of tea to be sent to her sitting room. 

Y/N’s cousin, a young man named Vladimir, had stayed at her house for a number of weeks the previous year. He had left abruptly, never returning for the clothing he left behind. Y/N sat Pierre down on the bed of one of the many guest rooms; she opened the drawers of the dresser placed against the far wall, rummaging through the neatly folded clothes. She found a night shirt that seemed as though it would fit Pierre, as well as a navy house robe to wear over it, instructing him to go to her sitting room after he’d changed. Y/N moved back to her chambers, changing quickly into a nightgown, covering it with a thick, maroon robe. She removed the pins in her hair, permitting the singular braid to rest on her shoulder.

When she walked through the door, she noticed Pierre sitting on the couch, tea in hand. She sat next to him, pouring herself a cup as well. The tea was very aromatic, causing the air to smell strongly of citrus and bergamot. Steam lifted slowly from the cups, twisting slightly in the drafty room; spreading the scent. Pierre’s spectacles were discarded on the table, lenses shimmering softly in the low lights.

“Do you want to talk?”

He didn’t answer at first, opting to sip slowly from his teacup, formulating his response.

“I… I don’t know how I’m to be Count Bezukhov… It just, doesn’t feel real.” He looked towards her, eyes searching for an answer, a suggestion, anything. Y/N tasted her tea, allowing herself a moment to think before answering.

“Well, it is real and, as much as I know you’ll disagree with me, you are most definitely worthy of the title. Don’t shake your head, Pierre. You are one of the most intelligent, compassionate, brilliant men I know; if anyone deserves that title, it’s you.”

“I… thank you. That means… more than you know.”

“I’m sure you’re exhausted, I’ll leave you to rest,” she stood, setting down her cup on the tray.

“Wait, please…” she stopped, turning back to face him,”Would you just… sit with me for a while? I don’t want to be alone…” She sat back down beside him, placing her hand on his.

“Of course. I’ll be by your side for as long as you’ll have me.”

A/N: If you find any spelling mistakes, please message me the part, chapter, and sentence. I’ll do my best to fix it, thank you!

[royalhouseofkhonvanski]

Conversation between the Grand Duchesses Valentina, Anastasia and Alice.

Anastasia: those dukes never like royals from Widenburg, ever since Empress Anna, when she and Emperor Petrovich were declared the Emperor and Empress in 1806. and I had known they personally do not like Sergei, and this is more so action of revenge. They see him as weak and a mere child still, and do down vote his ideas and reforms.

Valentina; when the regency was being arranged quick, Olga informed me from Nikolai (Olga's husband) that the dukes attempted voting in Vladimir (the second uncle of the Emperor, and second brother of Emperor Ivanovich), however mama made it apparent she should take the role on behalf of papa, after all papa did mention this once to mama in front of Olga and I before that awful holiday!

Alice: so your stating the dukes, do not take to us very much.

Anastasia: unfortunately I do agree, and the dukes pushed for Zinaida and I to be married to foreign royals so we do not have any influence at court, how it is really only yourself (points to Valentina) that managed to marry foreign.

Alice: I hope that the dukes can be persuaded!

Valentina: If you have a son, then everything changes. Mama had four daughters then Ivan and Sergei. Mama did say that grandmama was fighting for a divorce between papa and Mama, but she didn't like Mama so much for reasons, so she says.

Alice: I see...

[bamon4bamily]

9x12 - There’s no place like home (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to – Munich, Germany; late at night. Elena, having a bad case of insomnia, gets out of bed, makes herself some coffee, and begins to write in her journal.

Dear Diary,

Once again, I’ve gone MIA on you. I really need to try harder. I’ll take this sleepless night as a starting point. Anyway, I’m writing to you from a foreign land, Munich, my new home. The city is absolutely beautiful, and the University, an intimidating fortress of knowledge. I have never felt so excited and scared at the same time. The medical program is way over my capacities, but I believe I can get through it, if I devote myself to study, and learn as much as I can from Sam. He is such a prodigy, doesn’t give himself nearly as much credit as he should. Speaking of Sam, you should know I am head over heels for him, and have been living with him for some time. Unlike my previous experience, I’ve learned that it is possible to live amicably with your other half… Although, just between us, and despite my best efforts to let go, I admit that it still bothers me. Buried deep inside, I have these feelings of jealousy, which I wish would finally go away… Not only about him, but Stefan as well… How screwed up am I? I mean, nothing makes me happier than to see Bonnie and Caroline happy, but why did it have to be with them? Sounds horrible, I know, and I fight each day to grow out of it; guess it’s harder than I thought. Enough with the past, I need to focus on the new, better version of myself, and move on. But I do miss home…      

Cut to – the Salvatore mansion. Bonnie, Damon, Caroline, and Stefan, arrive from the airport. As soon as Caroline puts her luggage on the floor, the girls run down the stairs to greet her.

 JOSIE & LIZ: Mommy!!!!

CAROLINE: My girls!! (Hugs them) I missed you so much!!!  

JOSIE & LIZ: We missed you too, mommy!! (They turn to Stefan, Bonnie, and Damon) And you too!! (They hug them).

CAROLINE: Guess what, girls? I come baring gifts!! Quick, open that bag and find out what’s inside… (the girls rush to open the bag and take their gifts out; Caroline, surprised that Alaric didn’t come down, asks for his whereabouts). Where’s daddy?

JOSIE: (Switches from full excitement to nervousness at his mention) Uhm... we… we don’t know…

CAROLINE: What do you mean you don’t know? Then, who is taking care you??

LIZZY: Miss. Cuddles!

CAROLINE: Are you kidding!!?? Wait, are you girls playing with me? Is this some type of guilt trip to punish me for going away? (Shouts) Ric! Ha, ha, ha, real funny! You can come out now, I’m not buying it!

JOSIE: I told you mommy, he is gone… and so are they…

STEFAN: Who is they?

JOSIE: Radka, Mr. Sergei, Miss. Lexi, Mr. Tyler, Miss Margo, Miss. Katherine, the scary looking lady, that other lady, and the ghost lady…

CAROLINE: Girls, stop, this isn’t funny.

LIZZY: We are telling you the truth, mommy, pinky swear.

DAMON: (To Bonnie) I’ll go check the house out (he vamps away).

BONNIE: Girls, why don’t you tell us what you know.

JOSIE: It’s all my fault… I knew I shouldn’t have played with that toy.

CAROLINE: Which toy?

JOSIE: The one daddy hides in his lock… we were doing a spell to help Miss. Katherine and the lock was open, so I took it. Then Miss. Katherine was gone… and then we woke up today, just before you got home, and they were all gone…

CAROLINE: You were doing a spell? For what?

LIZZY: To put them back in their bodies, or something… but then Josie took that toy, and I don’t think it worked anymore.

CAROLINE: This is making no sense! Not even a day back, and this is what we come home to, absolute chaos!

BONNIE: Calm down, Care, we’ll figure out what’s going on.

DAMON: Well I think they are definitely playing a prank un us; look who I found roaming around (he is holding “Katherine” by the arm) … and, (puts Miss. Cuddles on the sofa), there’s something very wrong with Miss Cuddles. 

CAROLINE: Why am I not surprised! (Grabs “Katherine” by the neck) You better tell me right now, what the hell is going on!!?? And why the hell are you still here!!!

IVAN: (Looking very scared) Please, don’t hurt me!! I… I... I’m not Miss. Katherine, I’m a student, Ivan, remember me, Miss. Caroline?

CAROLINE: Really? You want to play that game?

JOSIE: He’s telling the truth, mommy… he’s in Miss. Katherine’s body and she’s in his.

STEFAN: Who is in who’s body now? Wow… (whispers to Damon) is there a chance we might still be high? (Damon makes a “who knows face”).

BONNIE: (Inspecting Miss. Cuddles) Well, there is definitely something wrong with Miss. Cuddles; there’s a camera inside…

DAMON: Let me see… (takes the camera out) This is some freaky shit…

STEFAN: That’s an understatement.

CAROLINE: Okay, okay, no need to panic (she is clearly panicking) …

BONNIE: (Connecting the dots) Wait… Josie, about that toy… what did it look like?

JOSIE: It’s the toy you built with us aunt Bonnie… (they all stare at each other).

BONNIE: Oh no…

Cut to – the secret facility, Edward’s cell.

 AUGUSTUS: When shall we expect our guest to arrive?

EDWARD: He’s on his way back; should be home by tonight.

AUGUSTUS: Good. (As he is about to leave, he turns around) I’ve arranged a funeral service for tomorrow. You see, I’m not as bad as you think… And, as promised, once we have him in our custody, I’ll make it worth your while. I have a big surprise for you (winks, then leaves).

Cut to – 2018 prison world. Salvatore mansion basement cell. Alaric, Lexi, Sergei, Margo, The Madame, Danae, Radka and Tyler are locked up, starting to gain consciousness after they apparently blacked-out.

ALARIC: What the hell happened?

THE MADAME: I think it’s safe to say that our plan failed, darling.

ALARIC: Sergei, you are here… I thought we agreed you’d stay behind to watch the girls.

SERGEI: That was the plan, my friend. Somehow, I ended up here…  

ALARIC: Shit, shit, shit!

RADKA: Ric, come down. We aren’t going to solve anything by getting angry. I’m sure the girls are fine; Caroline is probably home by now, won’t take them long to figure out what’s going on.

TYLER: So much for full vamp, werewolf and witch power…

LEXI: Uhm, guys, where is Emily?

MARGO: Oh, dear… the spell… must be done by now… she’s gone.

DANAE: Meaning we are stuck in here… Great!

RADKA: Why did we even attempt to do this? What were we thinking?

THE MADAME: We weren’t.

ALARIC: Does anyone remember how we ended up in the Salvatore’s basement? There is no way Kai could have pulled this off on his own. (The door window shed opens; Kai is standing on the other side).

KAI: There you go again, Ric. Always underestimating people. Some words of advice: “Arrogance in full bloom bears a crop of ruinous folly from which it reaps a harvest all of tears.”

ALARIC: Kai, you piece of shit! I swear if you don’t let us out of here…

KAI: Calm yourself, I thought you were a teacher; such vulgar language. For the life of me, I will never understand how Josette fell in love with you. May she rest in peace. But, fear not, I mean you no harm, unlike you, I have changed. However, I am curious as to why you have intruded my eternal game of solitaire. Care to compose yourself, and explain?

ALARIC: Listen, all we want is to find Katherine and get out of here. Just tell us where she is, and we’ll get out of your way.

KAI: Oh, so the boy was telling the truth. Ha, my bad… (Looks at his watch) will you look at the time! Sorry, I must head out now, I’m going to be late for teatime. I will be back soon, and we can figure this whole thing out. I am sorry to have to keep you like this, I’m sure you can understand why. Don’t worry, it won’t be for long, I promise. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with some music so you can relax. (Closes the window shed, plays the same Beethoven song, in yet another jukebox; then leaves).

RADKA: I don’t get it. If he wanted us dead, we would be. He doesn’t seem to want anything from us. Why not just let us go so he can continue with his lonely existence; he seems to enjoy it.

TYLER: Isn’t it obvious? He’s waiting for Bonnie to show up and save the day, like she always does.

RADKA: Why is he so obsessed with her?

ALARIC: I think that in his weird psycho way, he’s in love with her.

TYLER: To be fair, it’s hard not to fall in love with Bonnie, so I kinda get where he’s coming from.

LEXI: I agree.

DANAE: Me too.

ALARIC: I think we can all agree. But something is off with him. The old Kai would have gutted us by now. The way he talks, how he’s dressed... doesn’t fit.

TYLER: Maybe he has changed…

ALARIC: Come on, Ty, you don’t believe that for a second, do you?

TYLER: I’m just saying, if the queen of hell managed to somehow find her way. Maybe he did too... I mean, let’s be honest, we’ve all done some horrible things.

ALARIC: You do remember this is the same person that murdered his entire family, including my ex-wife, and your ex-girlfriend.

TYLER: Well, when you put it that way… Forget what I said, we need to get the fuck out of here, with or without Katherine.

THE MADAME: Why did I ever agree to do this?!

MARGO: I hear you.

DANAE: Ditto!

Cut to – The Salvatore mansion. Bonnie, Damon, Caroline and Stefan are in the library.

 BONNIE: So, it’s settled then. Damon and I will go, you guys stay here to watch over the girls.

CAROLINE: Why does it have to be you?

BONNIE: You know why, Care. 

DAMON: How did they get themselves into this mess in the first place, those freakin morons!

BONNIE: They did what they thought was right, can’t blame them for trying.

STEFAN: I think I should go with you too; you’ll need as much help as you can get.

DAMON: No offense, bro, but you’re still a human, I can’t see how you can help.

STEFAN: Well, I don’t have to be a human… Let’s do it, right here and now. We were going to do it anyway, so this is the perfect time.

CAROLINE: That ‘s true… Are you really sure?

STEFAN: I’m sure, Care.

BONNIE: Guys, there is no need to rush anything, Damon and I can handle this.

STEFAN: We know you can, Bon, but I want to help. Come on, let’s just get this over with. Care, ready?

CAROLINE: As ready as I’ll ever be… (bites her wrist and holds it out for Stefan to drink).

STEFAN: Damon, your turn. One in a lifetime opportunity, bro.

DAMON: Should we go for the old neck snap? Those are always fun (wiggles his eyebrows).

STEFAN: Sure, why not. Just do it already.

BONNIE: Stefan, really, you don’t have to...  

STEFAN: I know, Bon, I want to. (To Damon) Do it.

DAMON: (Grabs him by the head) Last chance to back out, are you sure this is what you want?

STEFAN: I’m sure, Damon. Come on, the sooner the better, snap it!

DAMON: Okay... (snaps his neck, he falls dead to the ground)...  Well, that’s that. Now we just have to wait until he wakes up, make sure nothing went wrong.

STEFAN: (Not even a minute out, and his awake) That wasn’t as bad as I remembered it…

CAROLINE: (Hugs him) Here (hands him a blood bag to complete the transition).

STEFAN: For better or worse, bottoms up! (Chugs the blood bag, and completes the transition).

CAROLINE: Are you feeling okay?

STEFAN: (Vamps from one side of the room to the other) I feel great! Remind me again why I ever wanted to become human?

DAMON: Been telling you for centuries!

STEFAN: Well, I’m ready. Let’s go do this.

BONNIE: Are you sure you are up for it? You might need some time to process…

STEFAN: I’m fine, Bon, no need to process. Might be weird but it feels natural. Trust me, I feel just fine, better than fine. 

BONNIE: Okay, then (to Damon and Stefan) grab my hand… (she does the spell, and off they go).

Cut to – the Lockwood house. Matt arrives from the airport. Inside, waiting for him, a SWAT team.

MATT: (Puts his luggage on the floor) No need to shoot this time. Let me just grab some things and we can go.

AGENT: What things?

MATT: I need a suit; I have a funeral to attend.

AGENT: Fine, get it fast. I’ll follow you. (As they are walking upstairs) Where is your wife?

MATT: Not your concern, she’s not part of the deal.

AGENT: Better not be planning anything, Donovan. We got eyes on all of you.

MATT: Then you have nothing to worry about. Unless of course your little gadgets fail… which I’m sure they won’t.

AGENT: Just shut up and hurry up.

MATT: (Grabs the suit) I’m ready, let’s go.

Cut to- 2018 prison world. Salvatore mansion backyard. Katherine is tied to a chair in a very bizarre setting of a tea party, Alice in Wonderland style. Horribly made replicas of Miss Cuddles are set on the other chairs as “guests”. Kai comes out with some biscuits and a teat pot, sets it on the table, then sits in front of Katherine, who has, once again, been mouth covered.

KAI: (Takes a sip of his tea, then stares deep into the boy’s eyes) Well, that was an interesting twist to the story… Katherine. 

(He takes another sip of tea, and once again, plays the Beethoven song, this time from his phone).

Cut to – 2018 prison world, Mystic Falls downtown. Damon, Bonnie and Stefan have just arrived.

STEFAN: (Looking around the place) Never thought something so familiar would feel so creepy.

DAMON: Welcome to bizzaro world, brother.

BONNIE: (Sarcastically) Now imagine this, plus your brother, and 1994…

DAMON: Hey! Rude!

BONNIE: Just calling it like it was. But I’ll give you one thing, the plaid thing kinda grew on me (kisses him).

DAMON: And so did Boyz II Men… I’ve heard you blast it in the shower so you can’t deny it.

STEFAN: They had some good tunes…

DAMON: Aha! I told you it was his!

STEFAN: Uhm, nice try, bro, but no; that was totally you.  

BONNIE: (With a smirk) I knew it!

DAMON: You are never gonna let that go, are you?

BONNIE: Not a chance in hell. But I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.

DAMON: Deal (they shake hands).

BONNIE: Okay, back to the mission in question; it’s going to be a tricky one. I designed this place not to have a celestial event so there’d be no way out. I’m gonna have to tweak somethings around, but…

DAMON: Bon?

BONNIE: I’ve never done anything like this, so who knows what could happen. A full moon shouldn’t be that hard to conjure… But, hey, worst case scenario, this place becomes weirder than it already is. No big deal; we can handle weird, right?

DAMON: We got weird down to a science. Let’s get awkward!

BONNIE: (Smirks) Okay boys, give me your hand. (She concentrates, her eyes turn white as she chants. The wind begins to blow at full force, the place shakes, the sky distorts).

 Cut back to - Kai and Katherine’s tea party. Something feels off… The place begins to shake, and the sky twirls as if someone on acid was staring at it. Suddenly, it stops. A full moon lights what was once a pitch-dark sky.

 KAI: (Looks up at the sky, sees the full moon and smiles. The Kai we know returns) She’s here…  

How do I look? Oops, that’s right, you can’t talk. I’mma take that look as a “great”. God, I’m so nervous! (Takes deep breaths) Okay, okay, I have to pull myself together. (To the Miss Cuddles replicas, pointing at the sky) You see that? She’s finally here!!! And I need to get ready for karaoke night!! (To Katherine) Sorry to leave you hanging like this… Nah, who am I kidding, not sorry at all! (Rushes into the house).

 Cut back to – Downtown, Mystic Falls. Bonnie, Damon and Stefan.

STEFAN: Wow, Bon; that was intense!

BONNIE: Can’t believe I pulled that off...

DAMON: (Kisses her) Of course you did, you always do.

BONNIE: Now that that’s solved; on to the next part of the plan. Kai is probably expecting me now, and I’m pretty sure where to find him. Why don’t you guys go to your house, figure out where everyone is; and I’ll meet up with our old friend.  

DAMON: No way I’m leaving you alone with Kai; I’m going with you.

BONNIE: Things between Kai and me are personal; I think I should do this on my own. I’ll be okay; I promise. I have a feeling he won’t want to mess with me.

DAMON: Bon, he might not try to hurt you physically, but, like you said, it’s personal.

STEFAN: He’s right, Bon. You two go find Kai, I’ll find the rest.

BONNIE: Okay… (turns to Damon) just don’t let him push your buttons.

DAMON: I won’t. I’ll keep an eye on you; you keep an eye on me.

BONNIE: That’s how we roll.

STEFAN: Call me if there’s any trouble; I’ll let you know as soon as I find them. Please, stay safe (he vamps away).

BONNIE: Ready? (Damon nods) Let’s go find our old prison world roomie.

 Cut to – Munich University, Medical Lab. Sage is running some sort of tests; she has the lab to herself. Sam walks in.

SAGE: (Startled) Sam! What the hell are you doing here?! You scared the shit out of me!

SAM: Sorry… but I could ask you the same question; it’s like 1:00 am…

SAGE: I booked the place; it’s the only time I can have it to myself.

SAM: Cause that doesn’t sound crazy… Anyway, relax, I’m not here to sabotage your sacred lab time.

SAGE: Then, what are you doing here?

SAM:  I need to ask you a favor (hands her the test tube that Elena found in the black box).

SAGE: What is this?

SAM: That’s what I’m hoping you can tell me…

SAGE: Why not just test it yourself?

SAM: I’m a scalpel kinda guy, you are the lab expert.

SAGE: (Rolls her eyes, she can’t seem to resist anything when it comes to him) Fine. I’ll let you know what I find. 

SAM: You’re the best (kisses her on the cheek).  

SAGE: Whatever. But I wasn’t kidding; I booked the place for myself, so shoo, skedaddle.

SAM: Leaving; just please, don’t tell Elena, she thinks I got rid of it…

SAGE: I won’t. But you know I’ll ask for something in return.

SAM: Wouldn’t expect anything less from you (smirks, then leaves. A few minutes later, Pietro walks in).

PIETRO: Miss Luxford, I granted you permission to use the lab for program purposes only. I sure hope that what you are holding in your hand applies to that criteria. But I have a feeling it doesn’t…

TVD 9x12 (part 2) coming next. Hope you stop by, read, and enjoy! =)