#VOLCHTSA

[dryadologist]

@volchtsa ✨

Wendell raps on the door, only half surprised that there's a cottage buried this deep in the forest. How long had he been wandering? He can't seem to remember, nor does he particularly care. There's something about any forest that makes him feel at home. Besides, the occupant of said cottage is cooking something that smells absolutely delectable and he can't resist.

"Hello." Leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded behind his back, he peers in at the interior of the space before his sharp gaze flicks back to its occupant. "You can't be cooking all that for just yourself. It smells absolutely delicious, by the way. Sorry to intrude." Not really. He's never had qualms about inserting himself places he shouldn't be.

[senstrike]

tiffany , i wasn’t sure you remembered me.

‘i think i do.’ the smirk is on his lips and in the sound of his voice. whisky burns his throat. she conjures thoughts of blood and glitter, and something about @volchtsa — be it the shimmer of her dress or the gleam in her eyes — warns him that, like an eclipse, it’s dangerous to look too long at her. but john kreese has long ceased to recognise any authority but his own, and under his authority, admiring a beautiful woman is mandatory, is non-negotiable. ‘did i kick someone’s ass for you?’ he remembers every fight he’s ever had; for a man like him, there is no respite. HE CALLS HIMSELF A SNAKE IN DEFIANCE OF DEATH AND FEAR, BUT THE SNAKE WAS ONCE A LION, AND REMEMBERS THAT, TOO. ‘i kick a lot of people’s asses, but a girl like you is hard to forget.’

[loath3d]

❝ don't look at me like that, nes. it's making me nervous. ❞

starter for / @volchtsa

[luckhissoul]

@volchtsa sent from this - accepting - 🧋 - to offer your muse a drink .

he doesn't know the woman in front of him. she looks - well, different might be the word. there's something to the air around her. that's what it is. something that he couldn't entirely place. but he's never been one to turn down a drink and some company for the night so he sits down. it had been a long one tonight. exhausted to the bloody bone. he's not sure why he even bothers anymore. the bloody grisha could help themselves. he feels a chill run down his back.

he lifts the drink up as he moves to sit down. "is there a reason you're being so accommodating to a stranger?" he asks, light even with a small smile on his face as he meets her eyes. "not that i'm complaining."

[tsareviich]

@volchtsa : 💋 ( from tiffany! ) falalala kiss the prince || accepting.

it had been a long road for them both, between the attack on nik's birthday and the war that took place, it was almost nice that things had... mostly calmed down. what surprised him the most was the fact that tiffany had... stayed by his side. once she learnt he had survived and was okay, it was like he couldn't move without her following him. it would have been sweet had it not been for everything else. he wanted to lash out, tell her to to leave him alone. over time, he did find himself slowly learning to trust her again. they all had done things they regretted.

it had been another late night and vasily just wanted to go to bed. and, like a shadow, tiffany had been there. " you are aware i can get to my rooms myself, correct? " he doesn't look at her but he does find himself leaning against the wall behind him. " i'm aware i'm a bit accident prone but i will be okay. " he looks at her finally, really looks at her. " had it been real, we would have been married by now. " he ignores the way his heart flutters. it wasn't real. he pushes off of the wall, getting close to her. they both know she could stop him if she wanted too. " you would have made a good queen. " vasily reaches out, running his fingers over her cheek as he leans in close, their lips barely grazing each other. " i hate how much i still love you. " vasily doesn't let himself think as he presses his lips against hers.

[crosaidi]

you have been my rock and my shield. / from cleo maybe??? 👁️ @volchtsa / stories and songs

Gods,  but  how  long  has  it  been?  He’s  been  on  his  own  for  awhile  before  all  this,  doing  jobs  where  he  wasn’t  so  much  appreciated  as  taken  for  granted.  It  feels  ——  strange,  in  some  ways,  but  not  in  bad  ways.  Just  — ways,  perhaps,  that  he  struggles  to  take  gracefully.  

And  thus:  he  smiles,  faintly,  brows  lifting.  "  Aye,  ’s  what  I’m  good  at,  takin’  hits.  "  ——  and:  he  taps  his  temple  with  a  knowing  glance.  "  An’  I’ve  been  told  plenty  I  had  rocks  up  here.  "  It’s  in  jest,  because  that’s  easier  than  taking  it  at  face  value;  the  humor  has  a  wry  bite,  but  he’s  not  dense:  beneath  it  all  is  a  swell  of  appreciation  for  feeling  appreciated,  and  it  shows.  "  ——  we  all  do  what  we  do  best.  Wouldn’t  get  this  far  without  you,  either.  "  

[endawn]

📂📂📂

completely useless headcanons

the few birds he cannot make peace with are geese and swans. he can understand them with his innate abilities but they do not like him at all. they choose violence every time.

contrary to the general opinion, pax actually likes mudcrabs and used to have one as a pet much to his parents’ chagrin. he named it lord pinchy. never actually pinched him but did nearly everyone else. it would follow him around like a dog.

pax likes dark blues, purples, greys ( silvers, mostly ), and greens but!!! his absolute favorite color is a brighter orange like the petals of tiger lilies. or oranges, but yk….lilies sounded better. he just doesn’t like wearing said color. anyways, tiger lilies are also his favorite flower.

[recitedemise]

A curious piece. Truly. In this yawning gallery filled with flowers and romance, it was this, this terror, that had caught his eye. Gale studies it now, reading what he believes to be someone's wailing. There's both texture and motion, a gathering of shadows with a mustering of grey, and with the heart so panicked, it yowls of desperation. The water's like a poison; it makes for grave. "Oh, I've ruminated upon at least a dozen ideas," he breathes, cocky in such a way that's delightfully drole, "but, yes, I would say you've the heart of it." How witty. "Say what you will, but those are my thoughts exactly."

Hilarious. He looks to her. Another curious piece, this one. He shouldn't size her up, but then, he's whittling his hours in some marbled hall. And when traipsing in the city of romantic Rome, one would do well to do as the Romans! And humans, last he checked, are far better reads. Of course, humans, too, he'd confess, are fragile in ways beyond glittery frescos. They're much more secretive, not made to be ogled like oils on board, and he's being too contrite. He's a little too moody. It's fine to think her fresh, and its fine to say she charms. She's wordlessly interesting, and her shoes are neat, and he's the right to think anything that isn't somewhat deeper--like how her eyes, like his, gleam just too dark.

As it were, he'd hate to stand there as her own sputtering study. Gale shifts knowing his scar peeks over the collar of his shirt. He eyes the heart again, feeling the phantom prick of glass...plus the failing of his heart. Mystra's words haunt him. "Charming. I believe myself more a pragmatist. In my experience, the heart's a habit of being impossibly stubborn. Survival, I've concluded. Even when sat in despair, one errant whisper would offer it hope. I wager it's no other way to carry itself. Rather, in the cradle of surrender, it holds its ground." (Yes. She still wants, doesn't she? She yet longs to be seen.) Gale sips his coffee, gaze grazing the tremble to her brushstrokes... Pensive, romantic, his expression flutters. "Hope's incurable. Men can't help but to dream. Why else would poetry and such lovely art exist?" / @volchtsa, continued from here.

[bloodofthefates]

🧶 — any non-writing hobbies/interests?

🧶 - Film/movies & tv are genuinely a passion of mine? Which intersects with my love of writing & rp. I am that girl™ who will tell you that actor so and so was in an episode of this one show before they did a movie with so and so. Learning about undiagnosed signs of neurodivergence in retrospect is a HELL of a drug. I do enjoy reading but my brain focus makes that such a sporadic hobby. I'm either reading seven books in five days or not reading a single page for seven moths. I love comic books, collecting things (v. childish things but also I open everything?) and Legos too! I miss playing video games but I'm a group/social dynamic gamer who is just there for vibes and causing chaos. Answering this question suddenly made me feel very very uninteresting all of a sudden. 🤣 I love watching Critical Role and wish someone would teach me how to play DnD because I wanna be in the club. ** OH. I guess I forgot I'm an actor. I just haven't gotten to play in ages but took scene study classes and voice acting classes.

[dryadologist]

@volchtsa said: yes, i'm haunted, but i'm feeling just fine. / from astrid!

"Faeries can't haunt you," Wendell muses aloud, though he does admit that some leave behind traces of themselves that can impact mortals in haunting ways. "Nor do I believe in the existence of ghosts or any of that spooky nonsense." He waves a hand flippantly. Hogwash, all of it. "But I'm glad the spirits you must have interrupted during your research have otherwise left you unharmed."

"Or are you speaking in metaphor? I can never quite tell with you lot, you writers of fiction. Researchers of fiction, excuse me. Though I suppose what you're researching may or may not be real." He knows he could contribute to her research. He could tell her some of the stories he grew up listening to. Some were truly more terrifying than the most popular of dark stories. But what would be the fun in that? "I prefer the straightforwardness of academic writing, myself. Less interpretation required. I say less because there's always some interpretation required when it comes to the Folk."

[stygicniron]

' i'm fine, thanks. but i appreciate you standing there, you know. silently. ' from drew!!!

Meme Tag -- @volchtsa

"You're welcome. I've gotten pretty good at it," Nico said with a small smirk, the barest hint of amusement before he nodded, turning to go.

He hasn't meant exactly to shadow travel right into the middle of the Aphrodite cabin. He'd been aiming for the Hades cabin, obviously, or even the middle of the circle of cabins more generally, but the throbbing pulse behind his left temple told him he was too tired to be so exacting with his shadow travel, and he definitely didn't want to collapse in the middle of the Aphrodite cabin. The last thing he needed was a makeover.

"You can pretend I wasn't here."

[fragmentmemories]

@volchtsa liked for a one liner x 2

"We should match." Misa insists, taking Tiffany's hand with a tenderness only reserved for her, and looking over her nails with a dreamy little self satisfied look.

[luckhissoul]

@volchtsa sent from this - accepting - 🗡️ - to point a weapon at your muse .

the rebellion had swept through the capitol, things had changed. but too much, he hears that sometimes, too much change. like an ever shifting thing that won't end. he's not sure how he feels about it. he wakes up every day and he has to remind himself it's over. it never does feel over. the training takes his mind off things, training for what? he doesn't have the answer to that. but the motions are familiar. the sense of ease that comes with having his throwing knives right there on hand. simple, easy, like before. there's a bit of guilt in that. but he tosses aside, watches the knife hit the target again.

it feels like he's been at it a while. the routine, the constant, and then there's an interruption. johanna, everyone had seen the state she was in when she got back from the captiol. but time had passed. stories had faded. and sometimes he stumbles on her by accident. never really talking. but he wonders if she feels it, too, the shifting, the - it's the cold tip of something against his neck. and he draws up his hands with a breath of a laugh. well, she must be playing for a spar. maybe. he might look into her eyes and see plan murder and then what? a smile still on his face when he does look in her eyes. "this isn't how i imagined myself dying."

[fals3nd]

@volchtsa

"sorry," my voice is a raw scratch as i look across the dark compartment at her ; no doubt the screaming woke her. unpleasant memories, no doubt, of peeta in the cell beside her and the sound of his screams choking thr - - - i drag my hands through my tangled hair and swing my legs off the side of my bed, "go back to sleep." if she even was asleep. it's far from the first time i've woken her up screaming in the dead of night, and it wouldn't be the first time she hadn't been asleep yet either. i fight the urge to slide under the bunk into the small, safe space there and instead pace half a way through the room towards the door. i need to get out of here.

what i want is to go topside, into the woods, but there's no way they'd let me out here this time of night. no use letting the mockingjay get lost in the woods at midnight 'cause she had a nightmare.

[crosaidi]

@volchtsa inquired: " what is the point, if not victory? " / from cleo! / bg3 companion banter

He gives a slim, narrow smile to the question. Everything has gotten so much more complicated, layers upon layers of greater plots, people involved, innocents twisted up in everything — it’s a mess, and the wrong string pulled could send the entire thing into even worse of one. 

" Ideally, " he says, heavily and on a sigh, " To put to rights this whole fucking mess to make sure it doesn’t get right back up again when it has half a chance. " He snorts. " Hells, I’d argue if there’s a point to winning if everything’s made worse than it was in the process. "

[dreadryder]

um if u didnt already do positivity for volchtsa U GOTTA DO IT !!!

send   me   a   url   and   I’ll   write   some   positivity   for   it

you just GOTTA!!! via!!! @volchtsa it’s impossible to summarise how powerful you are, actually. you're one of my oldest and dearest mutuals, and you and bubbles permanently altered my brain chemistry when you rescued me in from the frigid cold of the rpc. your brain is enormous and your creativity and intelligence flourishes and thrives in everything you do and say. every time i read your thoughts, i have to chew and digest them thoroughly because they’re so nourishing and carefully nuanced. you hold your muses so gently in your hands and encourage them to flourish and grow. it's so spectacular to see, and incredibly important in such a diverse and challenging writing landscape. i feel soooo incredibly lucky to have a front row seat to your imagination theatre and even luckier to call you a friend. big kisses always.