#blame ivan the terrible for it

[ashen-char]

I'm obsessed with the idea of ani joining in the conversations about partners and bringing reader up like "they never let me cook! which is sweet but i want to cook too!" or "they drool a lot when they sleep!" in a innocent way not thinking much about the fact the other girls are talking about their partners and she just started yapping about reader like they're together.

I just know the fact she always brings reader up in partner conversations makes them even more confused when ani drops the information she's married and it's NOT with reader, like they're happy for her but 'what does she mean she's not with reader??' Yes, they tease her and joke about it but they fr think there's something going on with those two.

reader likes to sit close to anora when she's playing, they're reading a book or doing something job/studies related, stuff like that. They just like being around her either they have her attention or not, they just feel this comfortable aura coming from anora whenever she's close, she's home. You'll giggle about her getting mad at villagers and then ani looks at you annoyed because 'you're suppose to be on my side!' and you're like 'sorry, got to a funny part on the book...' and you're reading the saddest and most tragic book ever.

I think later on reader introduces ani to one or two more violent games where she can kick people's asses! probably Mortal Kombat, she'll definitely play this type of games when a client/her boss pissed her off badly on that particular day and she needs to punch someone to calm down, even if it's on a video game it helps her a lot! But she likes more the cozy games like animal crossing, stardew valley, even the sims (her favourite is the sims 2 because of all the attention to detail the game has).

You once tried to make her play an horror game (resident evil, until dawn, silent hill, amnesia) and she tried it, she really did but after some time she was like 'nop! I'm done! put my animal crossing NOW!'

About ivan, like I said his parents are to blame for a big part of who he is today but he's 21 already and that's old enough to at least KNOW not to leave your wife alone when she's fighting for a future with you against 3 MEN DOUBLE HER SIZE! like if you care about her and her safety you either runaway with her or you stay there with her! That scene is what makes me think that anora cares about him but he doesn't care about her or at least not as much, you know?

YES! There's nothing wrong with wanting to have fun and be free, you don't have to be serious all the time like life's too short for that shit, but the fact he doesn't take anything serious, never thinks before doing a joke or just the way he treats people bellow him (maybe besides anora) lacks sense, maybe even empathy, like why yell as a joke at this staff member who's apologising already for not having the room ready because 1. THEY DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE COMING! and 2.BECAUSE IT WAS BEING USED!! it's a terrible joke, it can make that poor person lose their job if their superior happens to walk by, it lacks touch with reality too!

On the coke scene: if he had taken too much coke, mixed with the alchool and probably other drugs that shit could lead to his death or a coma! toros and garnick aren't stupid, they very likely know that ivan is using drugs and shit like that but if they don't know how much he has done/where he is how are they suppose to help him if it goes wrong? they are there to keep him alive, to keep him in line too, but mostly to keep his ass alive! You don't have to be serious 100% of your time but you also can't be 100% of your time acting like this petulant kid. ivan strikes me as someone who doesn't want to be treated like a kid and wants to be free but he hasn't shown any sense of responsibility to be able to take care of himself alone, like he can still have a kid spirit and be responsible AND sensible towards other people.

Oh i don't think he would even bother to ask anora about her past because like you pointed out he only calls her ani, she only started existing when ani did too. if ani did try to talk to him about it, open up about her past and stuff he wouldn't pay much attention, too distracted playing video games or on his phone. He would be like one of her friends boyfriends she heard so many complains about, you know?

it's a cute assumption but now I'm a little disgusted with it because of what I know... so embarrassing to me! i think with ivan she tried to keep it as much fairytale-ish as she could so she also tried to be a fairytale character, maybe because she felt the need she showed him her true self he would leave, while with igor she didn't want to/felt the need to put up a character, because he wouldn't leave since he understands her struggles.

I do agree that I prefer igor and ani over ivan and ani, like there's somehting more realistic about them, more personal and more 'honest-ish' for lack of a better word to express what I mean. I think ani needs someone a little more serious and responsible than ivan but also someone who can be carefree and I think if we had more time we could see igor being carefree around ani.

Anora only deserves the best and whatever or whoever that is I hope she's happy and at peace!

HELLO I DIDN'T MEAN TO LEAVE THIS ASK FOR SO LONG it kept cutting off when i tried to answer on mobile (which i was restricted to at the hospital) and eventually i decided to leave it until after i actually watched anora and had more formed thoughts!

ani's got a good rapport with the girls at HQ (barring diamond obviously). with how they flocked to see the fight, i bet they're pretty nosy too, listening intently to pick up on clues of if reader and ani are together. they'd have bets on it. lulu (who's basically the captain of the reader x ani ship) would scoff if anyone said reader's just ani's best friend, offended because obviously she is ani's best friend thank you very much.

sometimes when lulu invites ani out after work, ani says that you two have plans, excitedly yapping about how she's planning to decorate your shared sims' house or the ccs she downloaded. and lulu has this knowing look, cause that's so domestic? sweet? calm? not something ani would find fun if you weren't the one showing it too her. like, lulu finds ani in their backstage/changing room area on her switch, doing her daily fruit foraging in her ACNH island, probably cussing out tom nook for upping the house fee when she JUST paid the last one off. lulu knows all of ani's smiles and the ones about you/something you showed her are different to her performance smiles, to her flirty customer service. they're even different from when she's bragging about what a catch ivan is, about his mansion or how much he likes her.

how much he likes her. never the other way around. any other girl would be half in love with how vanya splashes out his time, attention, and cash. even if ani hasn't realised it herself, it's because her heart's already occupied with reader. imagine ani being away for that first week, apologising over and over to reader cause they already made plans while you just tell her it's ok. and then the next two weeks of their marriage, ani was happy and swept up in the excitement but also... restless? missing you? she busied herself with polishing up her russian, in the lavish new wardrobe and new life. in the dark of night wondering when it'll make her as happy as a simple day with you.

ivan's actually pretty interesting now that all the clips have context. he didn't run to not be caught, but more so to take in all the fun he could before he was whisked back - hitting up all the clubs, getting so drunk he wouldn't worry anymore. he didn't even plan to leave ani, fully wanted her to run with him. it was more... "consequences? what are those? boringgg". didn't wanna talk about his family, didn't wanna hear a word of reprimand from his parents, considers anything that isn't having fun as unnecessary. and especially him thanking ani for making his last trip fun as if he didn't ask her to MARRY him, when she was sceptical in the first place and told him not to tease her! she made sure he was sincere multiple times and he strung her along, pure and simple, knowing his parents wouldn't let that happen. knowing that he wouldn't actually fight his parents for it/for them.

gonna write some thoughts on ivan on another post this is getting too long and tbh i was more focused on anora :P (basically he's all about freedom and even argues back when they make a comment about him possibly marrying a man). the marriage was a fantasy to him, as is america, it's a freedom he won't actually pursue at the end of the day. not when being under his parents' thumb is easier. him being treated like a child is actually a privilege. ani's only two years older and knows so much more of responsibilities, of what it takes to earn and own things, of consequences. all vanya has to do is simper and follow his mom, childishly asking if her clothes are from the new collection rather than listening to her beratement.

i feel like if the marriage didn't collapse because of his parents, it'd be whenever ani decides she's had enough of the partying or the smoking and watching him play games. he asks about her parents, and she even offers to let them meet or go meet her sister. she wants to go to disneyworld for their honeymoon. but vanya would be the same vanya. show up drunk and blazed, embarrassing her in front of her mom and stepdad (while she covers his ass and lies "oh i swear he's not always like this, he's just tired"). ruining her childhood dream by letting his friends crash their honeymoon and trash the cinderella suite. she'd realise that this isn't perfect, that it isn't sustainable. it's fun, yes, ivan was right that they'd probably still have fun together if he wasn't rich. but imagine them going through the paperwork of getting that green card, of her trying to make him take it seriously so he can stay. applying, appointments, providing papers and proof... vanya would groan and act like ani's dragging him to do this. and he'd offer ani hits from his bong like he did to klara, never thinking about if something's the right time.

to contrast a relationship where ani would have to be the mature one, ani is notably different with igor (obviously). even if not romantically, having someone there that she can freely bitch at, let out her tension on, that accepts her moods must feel freeing. all these masks she puts on, be that at the club, or the perfect wife for vanya/his family. she's got her barbs, she's allowed to be prickly and abrasive and say whatever comes to her head. igor will laugh it off. she softened near the end (not the end end, i'm sure there's a lot of thoughts on that) when she brought him that blanket. wordlessly sharing blunts or taking the cig from his mouth, smiling when he laughs at a joke she slung to hurt his feelings. he doesn't just take it either. he asks why she says these things about him, asserts that he isn't (a gopnik, a f-slur ass bitch, a drug dealer, a rapist etc), but doesn't get mad at her for it. when toros or galina says "no, that didn't happen", it's to shut ani up, to not listen, to prove that she doesn't have a say/doesn't have power in the situation. when igor says it, it's on equal grounds-that he had to because he was genuinely scared about ani and that he didn't want her to hurt herself. AND after apologising multiple times, rather than jumping to "i didn't hurt you". it was "you were never in danger of being harmed".

[dulcelem]

I wouldn't have a problem if Till actually didn't care about Ivan at all. It's a crucial point of Ivan's core that he doesn't get the attention he wants so it wouldn't be terribly sad if that were the truth. There's the option that Till actually loved him very much, and although I think it's unlikely(and it doesn't fit with everything we know), I'd accept that too. I'd accept that Till actually sees him as a friend, or even that he hates Ivan. Any alternative is good, except for Till not understanding what Ivan did. That would KILL me. If he's like, "What? What happened? Did he do that on purpose or not? What does that mean?" this will kill me. No matter the truth, the only thing capable of destroying me would be Till not understanding and not recognizing Ivan's sacrifice. If he doesn't understand that he was madly loved, that's fine(I can't blame him, he'll never know everything we know), but if he doesn't know that Ivan saved him because he cared about him, you'll hear from me on the news

[shorlinesorrows]

okay, a couple things on alien stage/ivantill that I think some folks maybe need to consider and internalize.

Till does not "need" to return Ivan's feelings in the slightest if he doesn't feel that way. It's heart wrenching to see Ivan love him and have those feelings unreturned, but please remember that no one is required to return romantic feelings for someone else. You can't make yourself love someone, and you shouldn't. Especially out of guilt or obligation. That's Unhealthy 101, and would only set a relationship up for failure. (I do think Till cared about Ivan, and that he's going to have a Guilt Complex based on the fact that he didn't fully notice Ivan's feelings/care toward him until the guy died, but I've seen a couple of people tear into Till for not noticing/reciprocating Ivan's feelings??? Don't do that??? their situation is shitty, the fact that they didn't get to talk is shitty, but please don't blame Till for things he Can't Control.)

The kiss was not consensual. It wasn't meant to be portrayed as such. It wasn't even really romantic, it was a desperate, selfish act that Ivan used to get Till's attention (in more ways than one) and to give himself some sense of closure before he died. It was him saying everything that he felt at once, with no chance for Till to reciprocate or deny the affection. In a perfect world, they could have talked instead of this, maybe kissed knowing both wanted it, or given Till a chance to refuse. But they're both in the middle of an essential death tournament and one of them is going to be murdered sometime in the next few minutes. Neither of them really wants to live, but Ivan feels he has unfinished business before his sacrifice, so he finishes it. Their situation sucks. That doesn't mean the kiss was consensual. (especially considering the theory/implication that Till was/is being sexually assaulted by aliens, I wouldn't be surprised if this affects him badly in the future, for multiple reasons. Everyone should always get the chance to say "no" and have that fully respected. This also extends to the fact that Ivan died for Till without giving him a chance to stop it, which is probably going to mess with Till's head a lot. Then again, Ivan likely didn't think it would affect Till much because as far as he/we know, the feelings aren't reciprocated in this moment in canon, or are extremely repressed. Ivan might believe that Till simply hates him, or the kiss/subsequent "choking" may have been a way of trying to make Till hate him so that his death wouldn't hurt as much. Of course that thinking is flawed, because it would hurt Till no matter what, but still, it makes me sad)

Ivan... is kinda messed up. I adore him, but we've got to acknowledge that he has little to no emotional and relationship maturity due to the fact that he was quite literally raised as a pet and learned at a young age to do whatever his masters said to keep himself safe and pain-free. His fascination with Till appears to largely stem from Till's sense of rebellion. Ivan's examples of relationship dynamics and what constitutes as "love" is dangerously unbalanced, and he does not know how to build a healthy relationship. (Neither of them do.) This is also built onto the fact that the person he became dependent on only paid attention to him when they were fighting or Ivan was annoying him. Ivan cares about Till desperately, but he is also dangerously reliant on him to the point of self-detriment. Again, in an ideal world, they would be able to get out of this situation and gradually make a healthy relationship/friendship (depending on Till's feelings) over time while starting to undo the dangerous relationship patterns that they fell into when they didn't have any way to know better. But they're in a terrible situation, and Ivan really just doesn't get the chance to grow as a person and realize that his sense of possessiveness and reliance on Till's attention isn't healthy.

Basically, their situation makes me want to sob and its heart wrenching. Their circumstances have set them up for failure. Both of them are in the midst of attempting to survive an abusive situation and massive amounts of dehumanization. I beg, please try not to sanitize their complicated relationship or blame either of them for the pain the other is going through. I've seen some of that going around, and it's making me sad :(

[cherlawa-panna]

What does Bobbi think about Barney?

Bestie I have terrible news for you. There is not much interaction between Bobbi and Barney because Marvel are COWARDS.

They interacted only twice and they didn't even had any real conversation ;") But don't worry, I can give you the crumbs😘

Bobbi wasn't around when he "died" so the only things she could know about him is from Clint. We know that she knows of Clint's childhood, as he shares this with her in Solo Avengers (1983) #1.

He basicslly tells her about their life with their parents, their time in the circus, and Barney leaving and yada yada. This is the run that features the infamous panels of Barney yelling at Clint about money or manipulating Clint to do his chores. So, her impression of Barney probably wasn’t too great, to say the least lol. But she didn’t comment on it. Her reaction at this was just:

So the topic quickly disappeared. Clint ranted about his trauma and she was like "why are you telling me all of this NOW?!" Which is fair, since she only asked him about his sour mood and he began to tell all of his tragic backstory without any hesitation lol.

Anyway, let's go back to Bobbi and Barney. They first met in New Avengers (2010) when Barney was in Dark Avengers formed by Osborn. A lot of things happened there, but the only thing you need to know is: Osborn kidnapped Steve Rogers and after that, it was revealed that Skaar, a member of the Dark Avengers, was secretly working as a double agent for Captain America. So, he had a big fight with the DA, which alerted The Real Avengers™️ .

And of course, the real one kicked their edgy version's asses.

And that’s the entirety of their interaction. Bobbi didn’t exchange any words with Barney—unless you count kicking his ugly face as a form of communication. However, Barney was aware that she was his brother’s ex-wife. That said, it seems he didn’t get the memo about the "ex" part.

It’s kind of amusing, considering Barney missed both Clint’s wedding and his divorce, so where exactly did he get this information? Did Zemo give him a PowerPoint presentation summarizing Clint’s life when he was "dead"?? Or maybe Clint ranted about his love problems when visiting Barney in jail?

Anyway, we have other matters to care about right now. I’ve wondered for a while why Bobbi reacted to seeing him with a such angry “you”. It’s never really explained, especially since Barney didn’t do anything particularly evil during this run. He mostly just chilled, maybe fought someone once or twice, and that’s about it. Honestly, he was pretty useless. He didn’t even join Osborn in kidnapping Steve! But probably, she just assumed that he was part of it, which is fair.

Maybe Bobbi was just pissed off with the whole situation—having to deal with the Dark Avengers nonsense to save Cap only to discover that her ex-husband’s brother, who tried to kill him and was supposed to be dead for real this time, was also part of this mess. She seemed pretty done with this shit later, so I don’t blame her. Also, I have to say, watching her kicking him was amazing.

I’m not sure if Bobbi even knew that Barney was supposed to be dead again since Clint wasn’t in this run. In fact, I don’t remember Clint being in any comic during the time this run was releasing new issues. Maybe Bobbi had to break the news to him about his brother faking his death to be evil again. Unless he found it by TV which would be funny and painful. Or maybe she didn't know, maybe she thought that Barney ran away from the hospital or something.

After that beating, Barney gets arrested and disappears from the story entirely. He doesn’t show up again until Dark Avengers (2012), but Bobbi doesn't appear there. Honestly, that’s probably for the best because Dark Avengers is an absolute mess.

But hey! They interact again in Hawkeye (2012).

That’s the only time Bobbi even acknowledges Barney. After that, she focuses on discussing about Ivan with Clint, while Barney sits off to the side working on crossword puzzles out loud. To be fair, she had bigger things to worry about than the guy whose ass she kicked suddenly getting a redemption arc. She’s basically like, “Okay, anyway—��� and moves on.

And that's everything. But there’s a little thing I can mention: Barney and Clint mentioned Bobbi once.

I love how Barney is like, "I know I threataned to kill you and added to your mountain of trauma blah blah. Get over it already you baby. You're not special"

So, unfortunately, that’s all we get from the comics. I’m salty about it because THERE’S SO MUCH POTENTIAL HERE, YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE. They both know each other only by Clint's stories and the beating in New Avengers and I wish we could see them interacting more. They wouldn’t exactly be friends, but I feel they’d still manage to get along somehow because they have better things to do than thinking about what happened before 💀

[rebouks]

Let's be nosy and see what a few folks have been up to recently and/or since Somnium ended, shall we..? 👀

Kaden/Joey are still around, somewhere.. Joey would probably tell you by accident, but Kaden keeps him on a tight leash. I very much doubt either of them have changed their ways, you can't teach an old dog new tricks and all that... I dunno if we'll really see em again properly, though I never say never!

Brynn, Ace and Robert may have left Del Sol, but Randy and Genesis are still stuck in their old ways. Sissy likes the attention and money from her "job" too much to leave. I think part of her still hopes someone's gonna whisk her away to a life of luxury and she'll live happily ever after, just like Brynn did.. assumedly 😩 Randy won't leave without her ofc, and he doesn't really like change anyway. He's lazy, what else is he gonna do?! The motel barely makes any money either, but he manages with a few odd jobs from the less savoury folks around town. They're doing swell 👍

Luckily, no one ever ratted on Darien and he was far too careful to end up under the microscope without being exposed - especially since Wyatt left the scene - so he moved back to San My eventually. Ever the workaholic, he found himself a job at the same accounting/law firm as Wade (props to anyone who remembers him lmaoo) he doesn't need the money but he'd probably go insane without a job ngl 😆 He doesn't really find it easy to make friends either, and Wade recently found himself behind bars for a lil tiny bit of tax evasion so he's pretty lonely-.. although he did meet a fellow asexual lady friend he's been on a couple dates with recently. They have fun n' get on well, but she thinks he's this straight laced/awkward accountant and it makes him feel weird, like he's lying about himself.. so idk how long that'll last. I think he kinda misses being part of a "family", however fucked up it was.. but most of all, he just misses Wyatt 😔

Alma and Mack have been hanging out more often recently, just casually tho u kno?? She likes her freedom too much to give it all up, and although he's a great lover, he's a terrible boyfriend lmaoo.. I think she's accepted that Mack is Mack so they're not making it serious or official this time. They're not exactly getting any younger either, may as well have some fun whilst they're still here, right?! Kobe's considering moving out 'cause eugh 😆

Brivan n' co are just kinda living life right now, working, hanging out with Jacob/Suzie/Miya a fair bit and tryna get used to the news of Jude n' such u kno? Pixie's hitting her milestones like a champ ofc, but she's a picky eater just like her pappy 😅 Bruno insists he's fine but he's been a lil quiet and weird recently. Part of him still struggles with his old self and his guilt, though he ain't exactly a talker, so he retreats into himself now and then instead. He's been thinking of proposing to Ivan occasionally as well, but he doesn't want to do it whilst he's in a funk AND he's a lil worried (aka majorly overthinking) the fact that Ivan might not take too well to being proposed to?? But wait, nah.. he'd love it, right? Maybe-.. unless he hated it, maybe he'd rather be the one to ask-.. should he? Yes-.. no, wait-.. maybe?!!? Probably-.. AGHHHHHFJSDK <- said Bruno's brain ����

Jessie and Ivan have been taking it slow, mostly since she's so damn busy all the time, but also 'cause they hardly know each other n' all. Ivan's kinda bummed she's slow to trust him, but he can't exactly blame her so he's being patient n' meeting them whenever he can. Jude is so smitten with his new pappy tho, he even wanted to grow his hair just like him 😭 Oscar n' Robin have tagged along a few times as well since the kiddos are practically the same age, but idk if Robin is too sure abt Jude just yet! He's very talkative and he's a big hugger.. I wonder where he gets that from?? 🤣 I think Jessie's finally warming up to the idea of sharing Jude 'cause she agreed to leave him alone with Ivan for a sleepover soon! They're gonna get dressed up n' head to Oscar's for a spooky party! Oh, and Oscar thinks Jessie has a nice rack....... boi plz 🙄

Not pictured/spied upon..

Tilda - she's just existing rn tbh! She hangs out with Brivan/Pixie now n' then which she enjoys more than she'll let on! She's tryna stay away from dating and focus on herself too.. but she's not all that keen on herself so that's hard work 😩 a few dates here n' there but nothing interesting! She's also still ignoring her family.

Noah n' co - Aspen started teaching a few mommy/toddler yoga classes in the upstairs portion of Noah's gallery since he barely uses it, Juni loves it! Juni started ballet recently too 🩰 Noah's still salty with Oscar for not hanging out more but the man's busy dammit! I think Oscar's glad he's on semi-decent terms with everyone but he'd rather keep them at arms length so it stays that way skdjskjd

Salton - Alton's still Alton lmao.. though Sid gives him more shit nowadays since she's mostly retired she's realised he's even lazier than she thought and I'm sure she regrets letting him get a TV! She's a bit bored/lost tbh, which is why she hasn't fully retired yet.. introspection doesn't suit her (so says she) and she doesn't like all this extra time to think n' shit.. ough 🙈

Rhys & Tommy - both finished uni wooooooo! They're staying with Rhys' parents for now tho, Tommy's not rlly sure what to do with his psychology degree yet but he still thinks he'd like to be a psychologist so maybe he'll get a job/save up n' do his masters or smth?! Rhys has been taking on jobs as a wedding/event photographer for now, but he'd like to veer more towards photography as an art form-.. tho he's not sure how to go about that just yet either 🤔 they're figuring it out and they're happy so it doesn't rlly matter toooo much for now

Uhhhhh idk I've probably missed some folk out but feel free to ask abt anyone else in the comments! 🧡

[luckynebulae]

they seemed to like this on ch >:3

watch out for gore fellas

(the gore being art right down there)

inspo from “Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan”

Oc Lore nobody asked for:

sparrow (holding the girl up, eyes petrified) didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know that her actions or her anger with Emory (dead girl) would lead to her death, and they did.

Only then did she realize her love for the child, how her death was shocking and how she knew there was nobody to blame but herself. The light was pointed at her. Directly.

Sparrow would’ve made an excellent mother, she would’ve raised Emory better, but she never got the chance. Because she killed her. She never meant to but it happened all the same.

As is life. We hurt the things we love the most-simply because we can never tell what mattered most until it is Gone.

[starmieknight]

The Sands Will Rise

Chapter One

The library looked like a natural disaster. And at its epicenter was a familiar face.

Bernice made a quiet noise of dismay as she took in the damage, her heart sinking.

"Oh, Ford." she sighed. "Not again."

Ford rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he turned to face her. His glasses were crooked and his normally wild hair was even more unruly than usual.

"I'm not entirely certain what just happened." he confessed with honest confusion. "I was just putting away some of the books I used for my research. Replacing multiple books on the same level seemed more time efficient."

That… that made sense. As to why the library was in shambles. It was fairly easy to picture Ford knocking down the shelves like dominos as he tried to reach across the aisle to replace a book.

"And more time consuming for me." Bernice mumbled miserably. She pushed her glasses up and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling her eyes begin to sting with frustration. She already knew how this would end. 

Ford may get scolded for the accident, but their boss would never expect him to clean up the mess as long as she was around.

Women's work, as he liked to call it.

Bernice gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to cry over the situation. Crying never got her anywhere, so what was the point?

Stanley clapped a hand on her shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze before pushing forward through the mess.

"You ain't hurt, are ya?" he asked his brother, nearly slipping on the loose books before reaching him.

"No, I'm fine." Ford began, only to cut himself off with a yelp as his twin smacked him upside the head. He looked at his brother with betrayal.

"Good." Stanley rolled his eyes at the dramatics. "That was for scaring me and Bugsy here."

Ford looked over his mess with dawning comprehension, his shoulders drooping. 

“Oh, dear. Bernice, I―” he groaned before frowning in confusion. "Hang on ― Bugsy?"

Bernice scowled and fixed Stanley with an irate expression, but her chance to scold him was interrupted by a familiar voice ringing through the air like a death bell.

Bernice and Ford shared a horrified look as their boss entered the room.

"Wha―" Ivan stammered, hands going to his head as he looked over the mess. "How?"

Bernice might have felt sorry for the man if he wasn’t constantly denying her requests to join a field expedition. She wasn’t even allowed to go as an observer. Sometimes, she thought Ivan would keep Ford in the museum with her if given the chance. He did all he could to leash the young researcher to the projects that would best benefit the museum. All of the obscure and more outlandish legends Ford was most interested in were all but off-limits to him if their boss was in charge of planning digs.

It was terribly boring work for Bernice ― she could only imagine how stifled Ford felt.

"My bad." Stanley said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. He grinned as he crouched down and began stacking books. "Don't know my own strength sometimes."

They held their breath as they waited to see if the curator would take the bait.

"Sons of the pharaohs!” Ivan groaned, throwing his hands up. The veins at his temples throbbed visibly. "Give me frogs! Flies! Locusts! Anything but Stanley Pines in my museum! Compared to you, the other plagues were a joy!"

Stanley wore an appropriately chastised expression, but Bernice could see some genuine hurt in his eyes at Ivan's words. He looked like a puppy, one that had been kicked into the gutter and left to drown in the rain. Maybe it was the long hair that reminded her of a poodle, but she felt the expression tug at her heartstrings.

After all, he wasn’t actually the one who caused the accident. He was just the one taking the blame for it. But Ivan didn’t even seem to question the situation. He was ready to accept that the mess was Stanley’s fault and eager to spew vitriol in his face. Like he’d been waiting for the opportunity.

"Sir, it was just an accident." Bernice stepped in front of the twins, wondering what had gotten into her. After all, Stanley had introduced himself by trying to scare her to death. One sad look later and she was defending him from her boss? Boy, what a pair of puppy dog eyes could do to her… "I'm sure nothing was harmed―"

"Miss Bonner, when I want your opinion, I'll ask for it.” Ivan cut her off coldly, his hairless brow wrinkled like one of the mummies from the exhibit. “Now, be silent if you will."

What.

Her eyes were stinging again, this time fueled by anger instead of frustration. Were her tear ducts just wired wrong? Why did her body feel the need to cry so much?

"Hey, now!" Stanley rose to his feet, frowning irritably. His dark eyes were flashing in the warm light of the library. "Don't get nasty with her, bub."

"I can speak to Miss Bonner in any way I see fit.” Ivan waved a hand at him dismissively. “She is my employee and should know her place. You ought to learn the same. I don't even know why I put up with you being in my museum in the first place."

"Because," Ford cut in coldly as he moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his twin. "If Stanley wasn't allowed at this museum I would quit and work somewhere else. Good luck finding another archaeologist and cartographer of my caliber. Though, it wouldn't be so hard if you simply opened your eyes to Bernice's capabilities. We do have the same credentials, after all."

Bernice grinned at the twins, glad that Ford was willing to validate her efforts. It was nice to hear her being acknowledged for her brains for once instead of her ability to clean and organize.

Ivan spluttered at the unexpected fury from his best asset.

"You know perfectly well why you are more valuable than Miss Bonner, Stanford!" he snapped. "I can hardly be expected to send a woman out into the field! My museum would become a laughing stock if I even considered allowing her to accompany an expedition."

Bernice tried not to let her devastation show at the admittance. Though she didn't want to admit it, she'd always known now Ivan felt about her. It was the same way most men in their field thought of her. For all her education and passion about their work, she was nothing more than an over-educated librarian with a pretty face in the eyes of the Bembridge scholars. There was never going to be a chance for her to get into the field and make her own discoveries as long as she worked in this museum.

She just wanted to get out there (just once!) and be able to unravel the history and make the connections herself. And it was about time she went and did something about it.

"Well then," she said, drawing Ford and Ivan's attention back to her. Belatedly, she realized that Stanley had been watching her all along. She grinned up at him before facing her boss head on. "If that's the case, I believe my services are no longer required. I quit."

She didn’t know where she’d go from there, but anywhere had to be better than slowly becoming one of the mummies she worked with in that dry, dusty museum.

She’d worry about it later, preferably over a nice glass of wine. Or three.

Ivan spluttered. "But― but, who will clean up this mess?!"

"Clean it up yourself!" Ford suggested cheerfully, as he and his brother moved to stand on either side of Bernice. He threw his arm around Bernice's shoulders and Stanley copied the action, the Pines Twins like sentinels around her. "I quit as well!"

Bernice looked up at her friend in surprise. She’d always known Ford was a good man at heart and a good friend when he wasn’t stuck in his own head, but she didn’t expect him to quit his job just because she did. He was on the fast track to fame and recognition here if he stuck with Ivan.

But perhaps that was part of the problem ― Ford had big dreams. He had to know that staying under Ivan’s thumb wouldn’t get him anywhere in the end.

And Ivan had just lost his best chance at getting that recognition for himself. Bernice and Ford had been the cornerstones of his staff and now his structure was crumbling around his ears.

Despite her sudden unemployment, Bernice couldn't help but laugh at the gobsmacked expression on Ivan's face. From the way her whole body was shaking, the twins were laughing with her.

[jumbled-messy-confused]

They Were Never Meant to Break Together

jumbled_messy_confused

Summary:

Ivan’s out of patience. Fedyor’s past worry. Alina’s barely eating. Kirigan’s barely standing. He’s been bleeding for her in secret. She’s been blaming herself for every drop. When the truth finally comes out, it’s not through confession. It’s in tears. In silence. In Ivan undressing a man too weak to lift his arms. In Fedyor combing the knots from Alina’s hair while she trembles. This isn’t drama. It’s aftermath. And for once, they don’t have to carry it alone.

Notes: This story is an AU, based on the first episodes of “Shadow and Bone”, when Alina is still relatively new to the palace. As in each of my stories, Kirigan is a leader, not the villain from the series. Please note that English is not my first language, but I did my best to find most mistakes. (Feel free to point them out to me!). I took certain creative liberties, particularly with the characterization of the main characters. But I hope, you will just roll with it. And now have fun! And thank you for reading.

Midnight held the Little Palace in silence so dense, it felt like grief made stone. Moonlight draped silver over the domes and spires beyond the windows glinting off the smooth, pale shimmer of glass. Inside, only the distant rhythm of a patrol’s boots and the low hiss of a flame barely clinging to a wick disturbed the stillness. Stone and shadow had swallowed the day, leaving the halls barren of colour, hollowed of warmth.

And within that vast silence, a single figure moved.

Alina Starkov walked barefoot across the cold marble, each step a whisper. Her breath trembled as she exhaled into the gloom, forming faint clouds that quickly dissolved. The palace felt endless at night—its columns towering, its corridors yawning open like the ribs of some ancient creature.

She had wrapped herself in the soft, thick dressing robe Genya had given her a week earlier, cinched too tightly around her narrow waist, as if that might hold her together. Beneath it, her thin nightdress clung lightly to her thighs, the cool air brushing against her skin.

She hadn’t meant to leave her bed.

Truly, she had tried to sleep.

She had lay still for hours, curled into herself under heavy blankets, her head pressed so deep into the pillows, it felt like she might simply vanish into the bed. But the thoughts had kept spiralling; the weight of everything pressing down until she couldn’t breathe. Her chest had ached, and the tears had come—hot, silent, hopeless.

She hadn’t wanted to think of him. Aleksander. But the memories had broken through anyway—

the way his eyes had softened the first time he’d seen her light; with recognition; with awe. As if her wielding this power wasn’t an accident—but something meant.

No one had ever looked at her like that before. Not at the orphanage. Not at the First Army camp. Most barely looked at her at all.

She hadn’t wanted to think about her journey to the Little Palace, either. The assault; how he had appeared out of nowhere, saving her from a fate too terrible to name. How he had jumped from the saddle while the horse was still moving. And how in the next breath, her attacker had fallen—cut to pieces by shadow.

How he’d grasped her hand in the aftermath—firm, certain, lifting her in one clean motion; and how the terror had receded. Not gone, but quieter.

She had clung to him not just from fear, but because in that moment, he had become the only solid thing in a world that had come violently, terribly apart at the seams.

Since then, she'd been trying to hold on to that sensation. The certainty. The unshakeable steadiness of him.

He had been her anchor in those first whirlwind weeks at the Little Palace. The only one who saw not just what she might become, but who she already was beneath the surface. The others fixated on her title. At the idea of the Sun Summoner. Too many with crushing expectations. Some with suspicion. A few with resentment. And all of them with a quiet consensus—that the universe had probably made a mistake giving this gift to her.

But him? He had looked at her like she was the only one who could have belonged in that role. Not someone more skilled, more worthy. Her. To him, she simply was light—as absolute and inherent as his own shadow. His opposite. His equal. And he had never, not for a moment, questioned it. But outside the moments that held her steady—moments with him—the rest of her life at the Little Palace felt like a gauntlet. Praise was rare. Comfort, rarer still. Botkin, her combat instructor, was fair to a fault, never raised his voice. But every correction felt like being flayed with precision.

The others moved like creatures bred for combat—fluid, fast, efficient. Alina stumbled. Faltered. Her body never quite caught up with her will. Every small success came edged in pain. Every failure felt catastrophic. It was relentless.

Then there was Baghra.

Alina flinched just thinking of her.

Her teacher’s cruelty was not the kind found in raised voices or punishments—it was quieter. Sharper. Wounds made with words. With disdain. Baghra called her pathetic, unfocused—a liability to the Second Army. “You flicker like a dying ember,” she had muttered last week after another failed attempt at controlled light. “And he’ll see it too, soon enough.”

He. Kirigan.

She had wondered what the consequences would be. Hadn’t dared follow the thought to its end.

And Zoya—

Zoya was another kind of torment entirely. Beauty weaponized. Strength sharpened into cruelty. She had made it her mission to ensure Alina felt small at every turn. Her eyes followed her in the training halls, in the dining chambers, and when she spoke to her, it was all knives and sugar.

“So sorry, Sankta,” the dark-haired Squaller had murmured two days ago, after tripping Alina in front of a full class of Etherealki. “Didn’t see you there. Perhaps if you glowed a bit brighter, hmm?”

Not many laughed—but those who did, cut deep. The rest watched in silence. Not one voice rose to defend her. And Alina, flushed and scraped, had said nothing.

Because what could she say?

She didn’t feel like a Saint. She didn’t even feel like a soldier. She felt like a child stumbling around in someone else’s destiny. From the first moment on, she’d watched the others with envy and shame—how easily they moved, how confidently they summoned wind and flame and water.

It was a different kind of loneliness. At Keramzin, she’d always been the one assigned to chores the others refused, the last to be picked for games; too sickly, too thin, too Shu to be anything but tolerated. No one had expected much from her—and somehow that had hurt less than this: being expected to be everything and failing spectacularly. Of course, not every day at the Little Palace was unbroken misery. Marie and Nadia laughed with her often. They nudged her out of her own head—made her feel like a person instead of a prophecy. In the mornings, before drills. Or at meals, when the hall felt airless under too many eyes. Alina was always quietly grateful when her friends took the seats beside her—flanking her, shielding her. But even then, some days, she only pushed food around on her plate, untouched. Other days, she made it halfway through before the ache in her chest stole whatever appetite she'd scraped together. And in those moments, when it all became too much, there was one person who always managed to make it bearable. Genya. Her laughter was soft, her friendship genuine. She had a way of pulling Alina out of her spirals without ever forcing it. With Genya, care wasn’t offered in words—it was in gestures. A cup of warm tea pressed into her hands. A quiet pat on the couch beside her. A soothing touch to her face, refining features not to impress, but to remind her she was still herself. She helped Alina change into something comfortable, braided her hair without comment, or adjusted her appearance with those small, thoughtful touches no one else would notice—except maybe him. It was a ritual by now. And Alina clung to it more than she dared admit. But Genya was gone nearly every day—working Long hours at the Grand Palace, always at the Tsaritsa’s side. When she was near, the place felt survivable. When she wasn’t, it felt like drowning in gold.

Fedyor was another anchor in her life—his smiles always warm, his words never careless. He had a way of reading her that had unnerved her at first. As if he always knew when the ache behind her eyes wasn’t just exhaustion. Always knew when to show up—reminding her that kindness still existed. Always knew how to tease her gently, how to make her laugh when she didn’t think she could.

More than once, he’d shown up with a pastry in hand and that quiet look that said he knew she hadn’t eaten—or slipped a note under her door, something ridiculous scrawled across it just to coax a smile.

His workload had increased, lately; yet Fedyor always made it back to her. Even if only for a moment. And she hadn’t known how much that meant to her— until it became rare enough to ache for.

His husband, Ivan... was the opposite. Ivan unsettled her. Even when silent. Especially when silent. Though sometimes she caught him watching her with an unreadable expression—not cold, just... assessing. Lately, though, he too had been gone more often than not. Pulled into countless different directions, like Fedyor. And strangely, his absence didn’t bring relief. On the contrary. It was hard that even Ivan, for all his silence and scowls, had become a rare sight. Harder still, that someone like Fedyor—kind, attentive, warm—was barely around anymore. But hardest of all was the General.

Kirigan—the steady point in a world spinning too fast, the one presence that made all of this truly bearable—was no longer by her side.

In those first weeks, she’d seen him. Not often. But enough: a nod in the courtyard. A shared meal. A conversation over tea. A hand on her shoulder—never hidden, never disguised. He didn’t care who saw.

But now?

Now, it was as if he had been quietly erased out of her life, absent in every moment that counted.

He was called away constantly. Strategic meetings. Emergencies no one else could handle. Fires only he could put out.

She had tried to accept it. But it got harder every time; especially, when he came back hurt. Once, she had witnessed Ivan carry him into the infirmary—unconscious, limp, blood soaking through the lining of his Kefta. Another time, she had been outside mid-drill when the shout rang out—The General’s riding in! She’d rushed toward him, heart lifting—only for it to crash when she saw the state of him. He had collapsed right there in the yard, ghost-pale and barely breathing, eyes unfocused, like he didn’t even know where he was. Each time, she had stood frozen, her stomach lurching with terror—because with every wound, every stumble, it felt more like a countdown. Like one day, he might not return; and she would be left listening for footsteps that never came.

Still, she had assumed this was just how it was. That it had always been like this when things were particularly bad. A phase. A stretch to endure. Something that would pass.

Until she began listening.

Until she began piecing things together.

A snippet here. A glance there. Genya’s tightened jaw. Fedyor’s voice behind a nearly closed door—quiet, worn thin: “At this pace, something will give.” Ivan’s growl when he thought no one heard: “If there is a new assignment tomorrow, I swear I’ll march into the Grand Hall and wring the Tsar’s neck myself.”

Even Botkin, the ever-silent, had muttered once under his breath, “Fools send their best men to die by inches.”

At first, she thought they were speaking generally. About politics. Strategy.

But no. They were speaking of Kirigan.

And slowly, it had become clear why.

The Tsar was growing paranoid. Two Summoners—one newly arrived, untested, unpredictable. And the other? Not born to influence, no. But gifted with an incredible power, forged in decades of command, sacrifices, and impossible victories. He was everything the Tsar was not—and everyone knew it. That was why they resented him. And why they needed him anyway. He had risen, not with favour—but with force. A brilliant strategist. Unstoppable in battle. Indispensable in council. Kirigan had carved out his place through intellect and determination—through sheer, unflinching resolve. If Alina ever rose to match it, the balance would shift. And that thought didn’t just unsettle the Tsar—it unnerved him.

So, he had turned the screws. He had weaponized responsibility. Isolation. Pressure. And it wasn’t Alina he moved against. It was Kirigan.

Fortunately, the General’s value made outright elimination impossible—at least as long as the Fold remained a threat. But the sovereign deliberately set out to wear him down and push him to exhaustion, so Kirigan would become less dangerous. The King made him fight on multiple fronts. Gave him impossible demands and watched how long he could stand. And Kirigan—Aleksander—was bearing it all. Because of her. Because of her. He chose the weight. Accepted the enforced separation—because open defiance would mean punishment. Probably removal. Or worse. If that happened, she would be left alone. And he would never let Lantsov’s fear turn toward her instead. Of that, Alina was certain.

The realisation had settled a few days now—quiet, constant. But walking these halls tonight, it felt heavier than ever.

She felt her breath hitch, stumbling slightly as she turned a corner, one hand reaching for the wall to steady herself. The stones were cold against her palm. Real. Grounding. Her fingers ached. She hadn’t realized that she had been gripping the sash of her robe until her knuckles turned white.

You didn’t ask for this. That thought whispered sometimes, soft and traitorous. But it didn’t help.

She hadn’t asked, no. Choice had never been part of it. Her path was drawn, the role thrust upon her. So she trained. Fought. Endured.

But even relentless effort didn’t change the truth.

She wasn’t strong enough yet to fulfil her mission. In fact, she’d never felt further from it.

The guilt had become a living thing in her chest, clawing and writhing. It spoke to her in sleepless hours: he is suffering because of you. He gets injured, over and over again, because of you. Because you still haven’t become what they all need you to be.

That was what had finally propelled her from bed.

Not just sadness. Not even fear. But desperation.

Because tonight, she knew he was in the palace. She had seen Ivan in the courtyard at sunset, overheard Genya speaking to a healer in the corridor. He’s back. For one night only. One night. One chance.

And she couldn’t bear it anymore. Not the silence. Not the waiting. Not the knowledge that he was breaking himself to pieces on her behalf.

She had to see him.

To speak to him.

To beg, if necessary.

Let them think I’ll never be enough. Let them think I’m not the Sun Summoner they need. Just stop paying for me. Just stop bleeding yourself dry to keep me standing.

And so she crept through the palace like a ghost, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, the cold air biting at her bare feet, her throat raw from crying; headed toward the war room, because she didn’t know where else to go. Still, something in her hoped she’d chosen right— and she had. A thin line of light spilled into the corridor, golden and wavering like the breath of a dying candle. Her steps quickened instinctively at the sight of it. He was here. Her chest clenched with sudden, aching relief. But then— Voices. Low. Familiar.

Her breath caught as she leaned closer. The door stood open a crack, enough for her to catch a sliver of movement in the mirror on the wall beyond. The reflection of three figures— two in red Keftas opposite the General. Ivan. Fedyor. He wasn’t alone. She couldn’t walk into that room. And that hurt more than she’d prepared for.

But, for just one moment, she needed to be near him. Needed to hear his voice. To know that he was still upright, still speaking, still—if only barely—alright. So she stayed in the dark, fingers clenched at her sides, and told herself it would only take a second. Just one moment. And then she would go.

But what she heard pinned her in place.

“They’re pushing you too far,” Fedyor sounded quiet; uncharacteristically subdued. “And it’s starting to show – to more than us.”

Kirigan’s response came fast. Controlled. “I'm handling it.”

“No. You’re enduring it.” While saying this, Fedyor lifted both hands slightly, a calming gesture, even as his tone stayed firm. “I know why—Saints, I do. But there’s a difference.”

Ivan cut in, clipped, frustrated: “He doesn’t have a choice.”

“Sadly,” Fedyor agreed. “But there’s more to it.” He leaned forward in his chair. “You're barely sleeping. Most days, you don’t find time to eat— unless we intercept you in the middle of whatever crisis comes next and press some food into your hands. You’re tearing through meetings, inspections, deployments— because you’ve decided you will. Because you’ve chosen to hold the line, so she has room to grow. But you’re not just hurting yourself.”

“Fedyor.” Kirigan exhaled slowly, the sound low and exhausted. “Don’t… just—I don’t need a lecture.”

“It’s not a lecture.” Fedyor’s tone was calm, not confrontational. “But you need to hear this. Because while you’re pouring everything you have into protecting Alina, it’s killing her to watch you unravel because of it.”

Alina froze. Not just from shock—but recognition.

Kirigan’s voice, as it came, was low—scraped raw from somewhere deep, like it physically hurt to speak. “What do you mean?” “She sees more than we realized,” Fedyor explained gently. “Pieced it all together. And she thinks it’s her fault. What you’re forced to bear. What this costs you. She’s convinced that if she were stronger, if she were better, you wouldn’t have to bleed for her.”

In the mirror Kirigan didn’t move.

Not even a flicker—motionless, breathless, until something in him seemed to collapse inward. “I didn’t know.” He dragged a hand over his face, slow and unsteady. “I… I didn’t know.”

He sounded so tired it hurt.

“You couldn’t have.” Fedyor assured softly, without a hint of doubt. “You didn’t get the chance. And until a few days ago—I didn’t see it either.” He looked downright pained by now. “I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t understand how deep it went. Not until now.” Regret flickered across his features before he sighed. “Alina hides her bruises like they’re secrets. As if she’s afraid that if we see them, we’ll hurt too. But she carries it all, in silence. Guilt. Deep and quiet. Eating away at her.”

She closed her eyes. Just for a second. It wasn’t the truth itself that stunned her— It was that he’d seen it. All of it.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Fedyor went on, quieter still. “But despite everything, she shines. And I don’t mean the light you can summon or see. It’s in the way she moves through this place—gentle, careful. I’ve seen her offer her bread to stable boys. Help a maid clean up after someone else’s mess.”

With that, Fedyor drew a slow breath—as if choosing his next words carefully. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I said once—she had to give up everything from her old life. But not that. Kindness. That, she’ll never let go of.”

In the mirror’s reflection, Alina saw Kirigan shift—he was about to speak.

But Ivan was faster; surging forward in his seat, voice sharp, impatient, like something in him had finally snapped free. "She never pushes back. Doesn’t complain. Doesn’t fold, either. She just... takes it and moves on.” His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Thats not weakness. But she’s taking hits from every direction for it.” It was a growl, dark and angry. “Baghra’s cruelty—we expected that. It’s her way. But it’s the ones in our own ranks that make me sick.” At that, Kirigan angled his head ever so slightly. A small, deliberate tilt that demanded clarity.

Ivan caught it immediately.  “Zoya, for instance—she’s still been targeting her, despite your reprimand. Barbs, insults; she doesn’t even bother to veil them. She thinks she can get away with it—because you’re not here enough to stop her.” He gave a quiet grunt. “But I put her in her place today.” He leaned back slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching with grim satisfaction. “She didn’t expect me to call her out. Didn’t see it coming. She knows better now.” And Alina—she hadn’t seen it coming either. Not from him. Not for her.

Kirigan’s voice was cutting as he finally spoke—low, hoarse, stripped bare. “Enough.”

The word was clean. Surgical. Not a burst of fury—a verdict. He pressed long fingers into his eyes like he might erase the headache forming behind them. “She’s had her chance. I’ve made myself clear. If she doesn’t understand—"

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

The tone in his voice wasn’t anger. It was weariness laced with something darker. Finality dressed in exhaustion.

“I’m done.” With that, he stood. The legs of his chair scraped sharply against the stone—one clean, decisive motion.

Just outside the door, Alina flinched. The abrupt sound hit her like a slap. She stumbled back a step, heel catching on the base of a column. The noise of it echoed—louder than it should have. Too loud for hiding.

Inside, more chairs scraped. Footsteps—fast. The war room door opened fully, light spilling into the hallway.

And there she was, caught in the open. All three men halted.

For a second, she stood frozen in the archway. Then her knees simply buckled under the weight of the tears, the shame, the staggering relief— too much for her weakened limbs, her thinned-out soul to carry.

They saw her. Still. Even now. Even Ivan.

Kirigan caught her before she hit the floor. His arms were steady around her, cradling her as if she were something precious. She dropped into him like a final exhale—and he lifted her without hesitation.

Ivan stepped forward instantly. A few swift gestures followed—checking pulse, breath, all without touching her. “Sleep,” he murmured after no more than a moment, his voice low, assuring. “She needs sleep. That’s all. No healers necessary. Just let her rest.”

Kirigan nodded once. Still without speaking, he adjusted his hold and began walking. Alina didn’t protest. Her fingers curled instinctively in the lapel of his coat. She could feel his breathing—measured, held in check—and how tightly he kept himself composed despite the unsteadiness in every step.

They moved through the war room to the door on the opposite side that led directly into an adjoining chamber.

It was dim, lit by a modest fire crackling in the hearth and a single oil lamp casting soft gold across the stone. Dark wood panelled the walls, softened by the amber light. Heavy curtains muted the world outside. It was quiet, wrapped in peace. A stillness that felt safe, not empty. And at the centre—a bed, wide, draped in soft grey and black — its heavy coverlet carefully turned down at the foot, inviting and warm.

His room. Of course it was.

She cried even harder before they crossed the threshold.

Kirigan sat down on the edge of the bed with her still in his arms, his frame trembling as if the act of staying upright cost him more than he had left.

She felt it—every tremor, every shudder beneath her palms—and it broke her even more. She wept against his chest, loud, wracking sobs that shook them both.

She didn’t care that they saw. She didn’t care that her robe was slipping from her shoulders, that her hair clung to her wet cheeks, that she could barely breathe through the pain twisting in her ribs.

Kirigan held her in silence, one arm curled protectively around her back, the other hand gently resting on her head. He rocked her slightly—just barely—like a lullaby without a song.

Fedyor had stepped in behind them, quiet as a shadow. Something flickered in his soft expression. Not pity. Something heavier. Something dangerously close to heartbreak.

Ivan had followed, too, his features grim. His eyes swept over Alina—then back to Kirigan.

“I've seen cadavers with more colour than the pair of you.”

Only Ivan could deliver it like that—dry as ash, empty of concern, full of it anyway. Kirigan didn’t respond. Just rolled his eyes faintly, exhaustion radiating off him.

Ivan gave a short, dry breath. “You sit there like some tragic martyr—”

Kirigan cut him off without even looking up. “I’m not moving from her side.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest it,” Ivan muttered, just a touch of exasperation creeping into his tone. “But Saints, General—she doesn’t need a statue. She needs sleep. And so do you.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “If you don’t lie down, the two of you’ll be passed out on each other within the next minutes, scaring the living daylights out of whoever finds you in the morning.”

At that, a shaky laugh—more a hiccup than anything—escaped Alina and even Kirigan snorted tiredly.

Acceptingly.

Fedyor crossed the room and knelt beside the her. He placed a warm hand on her back and leaned closer. His voice was kind, gentle. “I assume you’re wearing something under this fortress of a robe?” His eyes glinted with his soft teasing.

She nodded with a small, teary smile.

“Let’s get it off, then,” he murmured. “Make you more comfortable.” With skilled, careful hands, he eased her from Kirigan’s arms and began to slide the thick robe from her shoulders. Then he shifted her gently, so she rested fully against his side. Meanwhile, Ivan had stepped in from the opposite end of the bed. “Alright, General,” he muttered. “Up you come.” He hooked his arms under Kirigan’s and lifted—more deadweight than resistance. Kirigan didn’t protest. As he was pulled onto his feet, his jaw locked and his shoulders squared—just for a heartbeat. Then the tension dropped, slow and grudging, like a man refusing to sag but his body overruling him. Ivan undressed him in silence. No fumbling. No hesitation. Each piece came off with the kind of practiced ease that made it clear this wasn’t the first time. And just like that, Alina understood: He had done this before. Enough that his hands didn’t shake. The thought hit sharp and cold.

How often had Aleksander ended up like this?

How many times had Ivan peeled off heavy fabric soaked in blood or sweat or sheer exhaustion, stripped him down to bone and silence, just to keep him upright? And how many of those nights had she slept, unaware—while he fell apart in rooms she never entered?

While the questions hit one after another, Ivan removed the shirt, revealing ashen skin, stretched tight across muscle and bone. Kirigan seemed too lean for a man of his height; his ribs showed. His collarbones looked sharp. She hadn’t expected him to be this… fragile. His Kefta, the undercoat with its elaborate clasps—tailored to perfection—had hidden the toll beneath: bone-deep exhaustion, all angles and strain. Scars mapped his body, old and new. Several still raw, fresh; too fresh. One of them, along his ribs, looked deep enough to have gutted him. The dread struck merciless, once again. He could have died. He nearly had.

Yet here he was—a man scraped down to essentials, nothing left but sinew and will. But still standing. Still enduring.

Ivan didn’t pause. He shifted his grip and sat Kirigan back down on the edge of the bed, steadying him with one hand as he slumped forward slightly, spine bowed, head tipping low.

But then, Kirigan straightened. Not out of strength. Out of habit. Or pride. Ivan seized the brief window of stability— bracing Kirigan’s knee and tugging off one boot, then the other. Leather thudded against the stone floor in quiet finality.

Alina thought she heard him mutter something under his breath. Something along the lines of feels like I’m undressing a damn corpse. Kirigan let out a low sound—half a laugh, half a sigh. “Always so poetic, Ivan.”

It shouldn’t have helped. But it did. Something in their flat tone—unmoved, matter-of-fact—landed solid in her chest like an anchor. It grounded her more than anything else had in days.

All the while, Fedyor held Alina close against his side. His body was a wall of warmth, steady and safe. One hand combed through her mussed hair with gentle rhythm, untangling it, soothing her nerves without a word. And even while cradled into Fedyor, half-collapsed, still trembling—she kept her eyes trained on Kirigan; kept watching.

How Ivan guided him down onto the mattress with careful control. How Kirigan’s frame yielded instantly. How his body sagged the second it touched the sheets, as if gravity had finally been allowed its due. How his head lolled sideways, neck slack with the weight of exhaustion.

She didn’t speak. But she saw it. Not just how tired Kirigan was—but the way Ivan supported him. The way his hands adjusted him without jarring; kept him balanced with every shift; handled him not like a burden but like someone who deserved gentleness; deserved care. And Kirigan let it happen—too spent to help, too tired to pretend he didn’t need it. His breathing was shallow, uneven. But even through the haze clouding his eyes, his gaze kept finding her. As if whatever thread still tethered him to waking was her.

Ivan bent forward, worked the fastenings of his trousers, and slid them off with efficient hands. Underneath, Kirigan wore thin linen pants. They clung to his too-lean frame, the fabric barely concealing the hard lines beneath—no softness left. Only taut muscle and sharp angles.

His body shivered in the cool air, shuddering unconsciously from the chill. Ivan didn’t miss it. His gaze caught on the tremor, jaw tightening—then he moved. Crossed to the chest at the foot of the bed, retrieved a set of warm sleep clothes, and was back in seconds. He re-dressed Kirigan like a medic after a siege: precise, calm, without ceremony. Just necessity, carried out with quiet respect.

Finally, Ivan drew the folded blanket out from under Kirigan’s long legs, adjusting him carefully afterwards—but he barely stirred anymore.

His eyelids fluttered. Flickered. He fought them. Forced them open once more. Just to find her again. Just her. Next to him, Ivan straightened. His eyes met Fedyor’s— just the briefest glance between them, nothing more. But it was enough. No words were needed. In the next breath, Fedyor acted. Alina startled slightly, a small, involuntary gasp escaping her as she was lifted without ceremony and placed directly into Kirigan’s arms.

Not beside him.

Not near.

In his arms.

And he pulled her close without hesitation. A long breath escaped him—shaky, bone-deep. His arms curled around her with exhausted certainty, and she buried her face in his neck like she had been waiting all her life to do it.

Fedyor settled nearby, still and patient. Ivan folded his arms, unmoving. They weren’t going anywhere—and they all knew it.

Strangely, Alina didn’t mind.

For the first time in days, she felt safe. Enough. Surrounded by people who weren’t just watching her fall. They were holding the line.

Her tears had never truly stopped. Just softened, thinned out. Now, in his arms, they surged back—quieter this time but still shaking her small frame as they forced their way out. She couldn’t stop them; didn’t try; simply trembled in Kirigan’s arms.

His scent surrounded her—clean linen, cedar, and something darker, like winter itself. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest. Could hear his heart, slow but steady.

His hand stroked her back. Again. Again. And slowly, painfully, the sobs eased. Her grip loosened, breath by breath. It took time. Long minutes. But eventually, she quieted. Not calm. Just quiet. And then, finally, he let go. It was his breath that changed first—deeper, heavier. And she felt it happen—the moment his strength gave out.

His repetitive motion faltered; then, stilled. His head dropped just slightly, chin coming to rest against her forehead.

He had fallen asleep.

She squinted up at him, unmoving, afraid to disturb the fragile stillness. Aleksander looked younger like this. Not just because the tension was gone—but because the weight was, too. His features were softer, eased into something quieter. Almost gentle. He looked spent—but peaceful. Fedyor caught her gaze, reading the lingering worry in her eyes without a word. “He’s alright,” he whispered. “Just asleep. You can rest now too.”

She almost cried again.

But this time from something else.

Relief.

Love.

Sanctuary.

He had fought. Stayed awake long enough to hold her through the worst. Until her body could bear its own stillness.

But now he was gone, slipping under into unconsciousness like a stone sinking into still water.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to the warmth of his chest. Let go—let herself fall with him. Her thoughts blurred. Her body surrendered. Sleep crept in, slow and certain. Fedyor moved quietly, drawing the thick cover higher up over both of them. He tucked it around their bodies with a tenderness she felt even through the soft fog wrapping around her mind.

Then, just as gently, he leaned down and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “Thank the Saints,” he whispered. “They’re finally resting.”

Ivan’s voice was gruff but low. “No one comes in. No one. Not unless they walk over our dead bodies first.”

Fedyor’s answer came soft, but resolute. “Over mine twice.”

The door shut behind them.

And at last, the room was quiet.

Alina was wrapped in warmth.

Wrapped in his arms.

Safe.

She didn’t remember falling asleep.

Only the feeling of Kirigan’s breath against her hair. And the sense—just before the dark took her— that whatever came next, they would no longer carry it alone.

[generational-atrophy]

Good evening ! Can I request a headcanon for Russia where his s/o is hypersensitive ?

Thank you in advance !

(HWS Russia x Reader) Hypersensitive S/O!

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N anon u have no idea how many times i mispelled sensitive while writign this. but ill let u know now. it was every single time.

Trigger Warning: None, just fluff!

- Here's the thing. Ivan is incredibly loving and affectionate. He cares for you more than he has ever cared for anything and is not afraid to tell you. But, he also has the tact of a toddler who just woke up from a nap.

- Considering how isolated he has always been, he also has terrible situational awareness. Unless his S/O is literally sobbing, he has no idea they're upset. Sometimes even when you tell him directly, he'll dismiss it as a joke or an exaggeration.

“Don't be silly, Y/N! It surely didn't mean anything. Simply forget about i- wait, why are you looking all mad now?“

- But the more he gets to know you, and the more he gets to see what happens when you take this personally, he gets better at recognizing your feelings.

- In social settings, it'll still be hard for him to tell when you were hurt by something, but he'll listen more when you try to talk to him about it.

- He would never want you to be upset! No, no, never! He has nightmares where you hate him, so he's very sensitive to how your emotions can flip on a dime. But... he'd be lying if he didn't say he was frustrated by it sometimes.

- Not because of you, really though. He would never blame you for getting ”“irrationally”“ upset about something. But... he just really doesn't understand. He doesn't have a thick skin per se, but subtle digs (and just... blatant digs) that hurt you go completely over his head. Sometimes he just wishes you two could be more on the same page, that's all.

”Moya kroshka, what's wrong?... w-what so wrong with that? Weren't they simply... being polite?“ He pauses as you explain, “Oh... wow. I would have never realized that was what that meant. Some people have been very rude to me, then.“

- (He does get pretty sensitive too sometimes! It's not that he can't relate, but his over-emotionality comes out of nowhere, compared to your constant sensitivity. Plus, you know he has a horrible memory when it comes to his emotions.)

- Despite all of that, he is always willing to change himself for you. If he's too blunt, he'll make sure to always think before speaking for you. If he's too overbearing, he'll give you space. Even though he doesn't really know how to deal with an over-sensitive S/O... he'll try his best.

- One thing that he can always do for you is just to be a shoulder to cry on. You're never too much for him. All you have to do is tug on his shirt a little bit, and in a minute you'll be cuddled up to him, sobbing about everything that happened that day.

”Do you want me to kill that person for you?“ ”No?“ ”Please let me kill that person for you.“

- Seriously, once you show him how truly upset you are, he is already taking your side before you explain. No matter what.  And he is taking your side to the extreme. Whatever is upsetting you has to die, no matter what it did.

- He, unfortunately, does not understand how that can be just as upsetting.

- Just tell him to stop. Once he sees that he's upsetting you, he'll stop immediately (No promises about what he'll do once you're asleep, though.)

- So, a hypersensitive S/O with him would be a mixed bag. On one hand, he'd never invalidate you or let you suffer. But on the other hand, he never learned where to stop and where to start.

- But all that matters is that he would love a sensitive S/O just as much as a stoic one.  He's there to comfort you and take care of you, regardless of how you act.

[amomentxofhappiness]

ooc // as you probably noticed, had a massive surge of productivity! I blame it on christnas cheer (and a change in attitude). Ill be re-adding old muses with a twist and new muses. Here's the short (?) list:

Ivan Koch Baquero - daniel brühl, 40s, boringly straight. Either film director and snob as hell or MI6 operative and also snob as hell. catalunyan mom, german dad, italian grandparents. the man can talk more languages since age 3 than you in your fifties.

Phil Matthews - adam brody, late 30s, early 40s. Half brother to Ben, nerd, works a job he hates but is dealing with it. Less boringly straight.

Paula Rogers (no relation to Steve)- alycia debnam-carey, late 20s early 30s. Black belt that made some cash profiting on her looks & the exposure she received competing. She gives ted talks and does pro-bono works with underpriviliged girls. Has her own dojo and did a good job hiring her lawyer & investment company. Shes not a millionaire by any means but lives comfortably and does the odd tv spot / tv show, thinking of branching into acting (def was part of the cob.ra kai series in some shape or form). Oh she's bi af.

Lucas (Lou) Dreyfus - alan ritchson, early 40s, what a man. Pan af. Former military, by the book (not a reacher rip off but more like a jack ryan one ngl, i like spies, not even sorry).

Zeus/Henry richardson - jeffrey dean morgan, looks early 50s, over 5000. The OG Daddy TM. Based ob my own canon from my olympus blog /fables comics and greek knowledge (nerd alert). He's a judge, has his powers, do not fuck with his kids (whats left of them anyway)

Henry's main (non-zeus) verse - he's a Judge in the NY Criminal court. Before this he was the district attorney. he's a widower (and a bit of a ladies' man since his late 40s but he just hadn't found the one). he's not into kids (=anyone under 35) but apparently he has 'daddy' energy and young women keep hitting on him. he has two kids Gwen (Jennifer Morrison FC, has a career in the military a& ) and Jack (Jamie Dornan, also a muse here). Jack was his late wife's child and he adopted him when Jack was 3 and they married. Gwen was born shortly after. He's dedicated and determined, a bit playful and is trying his best to de-toxisize himself. He also babysits his pre-teen granddaughter an awful lot (Jack's daughter with his late with Magda) so that Jack can go do whatever he wants. He has some investments and lives comfortably.

Teddy potter - nicholas galitzine, late 20s early 30s. Bi leaning to gay afm industrial designer. Currently unemployed. Still living with his dad and feeling terribly bad over it. Been through some things and dealing with all of them.

Ted lupin - jensen ackles, early 40s. Fubar boi since almost birth, till doesnt understand why both of his parents had to go off and fight in a dooned battle against evil incarnate. Loves his grandma, his godfather and his uncle draco. Hates hia godfathers ex wife g weasley and her entire family. Feels guilty for his hs girlfriend's death (manpain im sorry he was created in 2012) and needs copious amount of therapy. Instead he takes copious amounta of beer. Tried to get clean multiple times, failed in all of them. Needs a +1 that says "i can fix him" to be dependant on and revolve his life around them. Bi af though it took him a decade to accept he liked d*ck.

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

Can we see this: https://youtu.be/Nb7sgIAuECQ?si=w3auY1tDtEVJmDzB, but with the DC AU couples? Like Bat!Zoe and Static!Cosette, Bane!Ivan and Scarecrow!Mylene, Cat!Juleka and Ivy!Rose, etc?

Zoé: So… Cosette and I… We never imagined that we’d meet up and then eventually… Couple up.

Cosette: Our dads know each other. Justice League, and stuff, you know? But, we didn’t exactly meet through them. See, I was on a class trip to Gotham.

Zoé: Terrible idea.

Cosette: Aw, it worked out.

Zoé: It did. Anyway, the Hero Class- total accident, by the way- helped dad and me battle the Joker and his guys. And Cosette-

Cosette: Don’t! Please, no!

Zoé: *Giggles* Cosette saw the Joker pointing a gun at me, got in front of me, and yelled, “DON’T HURT HER!” But… It turns out- *Snickers*

Cosette: Don’t even!

Zoé: It was one of his ‘POW!’ guns! With the little flag? You know those ones.

Cosette: It was so embarrassing!

Zoé: It was sweet, and you were very brave.

Cosette: … Thank you.

—

Nathaniel: So, um... No one thought this would last. I’m a size-shifting villain who gets angrier as he grows, he’s an alien hero who’s able to fly when he thinks positive thoughts.

Marc: *Takes Nathaniel’s hand* But, we proved everyone wrong.

Nathaniel: As to how we met, I was robbing the bank, literally holding a few people hostage in my fist. And as I was tearing the vault door open, this one bursts in and ties a lamppost around my wrist like handcuffs

Marc: And after that, I kept stopping more of his crimes… Tell them why.

Nathaniel: *Blushing* Starlight, quit it.

Marc: Come on…

Nathaniel: … I wanted a reason to see and talk to you.

Marc: He even stopped right in the middle of causing some chaos downtown because Denise came instead of me. It was adorable! He eventually worked up the nerve to ask me out. And, baby, you didn’t have to commit all those crimes just to get me to notice you.

Nathaniel: Can you blame me? I couldn’t exactly talk to you during school hours with your friends watching my every move.

Marc: And yet, here we are.

—

Jesse: When I first laid eyes on Anthony, it was during the DC kids’ weekly Villains versus Heroes battle near the Eiffel Tower. All I wanted to do was belt a myriad of love songs to the heavens when I saw my dark angel!

Anthony: I talked him out of it. Though, I was surprised he picked me out of… Literally anyone. I mean, who wants a Demon for a boyfriend, you know?

Jesse: *Takes his hand* I do. And I always will, my love.

Anthony: You weren’t even the least bit terrified when you found out who my grandfather was?

Jesse: You mean Trigon? Enslaver of worlds? Devourer of a million souls? The most feared tyrant in the universe who could easily wipe out all existence as we know it?… Nope. Not at all.

Anthony: Aaw. *Kisses him on the cheek* You're sweet.

Jesse: Yes, and a bit terrified.

—

Alya: So, Nino and I had just been transferred to DuPont after the... Incidents at our last schools.

Nino: I was in the middle of conning a few idiots out of their lunch money when she walked by, her hair just smelling like lavender.

Alya: You got so distracted that you shifted into several forms until you were just this cluster of different people. It was a mess! And, frankly, kind of cute.

Nino: Only because I had Adrien's dimples, Kim's abs, and Chloé's aerobicized ass, right?

Alya: No, I meant it was cute how you got all flustered over me, idiot.

Nino: Well, who wouldn't? Now, here's the kicker. She asked me out by trapping me in an escape room for three days.

Alya: With food and water, of course. In the end, there was a riddle waiting for him, and he got it on the first go.

Nino: 'There is a fruit, so very sweet! From a palm, it's very neat! A yea or nay sometime today. Palm to palm is just the gate for the fruit is a-'

Alya/Nino: Date.

—

Denise: I first met Simon while trying to stop a bus full of passengers. The brakes just snapped, and it was going all over the road at top speed.

Simon: I was chasing after the bus, but, you know, I’m not strong enough to stop like a… What? A ton?

Denise: Twenty to thirty, actually. So, I’m flying by to help, and then this one- *Snickers* He flew into a stop sign the very second he saw me.

Simon: I was face to face with a literal goddex! A gorgeous one at that.

Denise: Aw, come on. After we managed to stop the bus and save everyone, we just started hanging out more, stopping the DC villain kids together, and one thing lead to another. We started dating.

—

Jean: I had just given the performance of a life time. I had gotten the usual red roses, but then someone tosses me a bouquet of green roses. Guess who it was.

Austin T: I think they know, dear.

Jean: *Giggles* Yeah. But, the first time we met officially was when I was helping Zoé stop Marinette and Adrien from releasing laughing gas out into the city.

Austin T: I lent some assistance.

Jean: He trapped them in a cage that his ring made, and I was like, “What sorcery is this?!” And he went, “No sorcery, just space tech. Hi, I’m Emerald Lantern.”

Austin T: If you think I’m about to choose the most predictable name, you have another thing coming. Anyway, he didn’t know I was the one who threw the green bouquet until he saw the cage.

Jean: I was swooning!

Austin T: It was adorable how his eyes lit up.

—

Rose: The first time we met, we were thirteen, and we tried to kill each other.

Juleka: Nah, you didn’t try to kill me; I tried to kill you. I thought she was stepping on my turf, trying to steal the stuff I was going to steal. Turns out, she was just poisoning a few guys down at some club who have been harassing some poor girl.

Rose: She’s okay now, but anyway, Juleka wanted in on the action, and scratched their faces!

Juleka: Respect women, idiots.

Rose: It was amazing! I had them tied up in my vines, and we both took turns beating them with her sack full of cash!

Juleka: I like to consider that our first date.

Rose: *Kisses her on the cheek* And what a date it was.

—

Ivan: I was bashing a corrupt official’s head against the pavement one night, after I found out he’d done unspeakable things to lycée students behind closed doors, when I saw her hollow eyes from across the street. I was then plagued with the grimmest of hallucinations of that prison. And after a dreadful ten minutes, I found the bastard of a man writhing and screaming as if he were in even more pain. I knew I wanted her to cull pathetic whelps like that man with me.

Myléne: He asked, then I gave him another dose of my fear toxin. When he snapped out of it and didn’t run away, that’s when I knew he was the one I wanted to spend my life with.

—

Brecken: Lemme tell ya, it ain’t all easy being a hero-villain couple. I always gotta act polite ‘n stuff when I’m around her hero pals.

Genevieve: And I must endure his friends’ brash behavior from time to time.

Brecken: Aw, you love ‘em!

Genevieve: Not as much as I love you… And, I guess your clones.

Brecken: Hoo, doggies! I love this gal! Anyway, as to how we met, so me and the fellas, as in my clones, were robbing the bank, and after we cleaned it out, we stopped for a bite as this great diner. And if you’re American, they got some great burgers there, makes you feel right at home!

Genevieve: As he was saying, he and his clones barged in as I was ordering. Seeing as we were in a public space, and we both had not eaten yet, the seven of us occupied a table, and just began to talk.

Brecken: I never seen the fellas so engaged. My darlin’s just got that something, you know?

—

Aurore: Uh, a little about us. My bio dad’s Aquaman, allowing me to breathe underwater and communicate with fish.

Mireille: My bio mom is Black Canary, and I inherited her sonic scream. It’s nice, but I gotta be careful not to scream when I get angry.

Aurore: She’s broken a lot of windows. So, as for how we got together. We were both new to DuPont, and got placed in the Hero Class. It was sort of a program made so we, as the second generation of heroes, could keep an eye on the Villain Class.

Mireille: They’re more chaotic neutral than chaotic evil, but we still keep tabs.

Aurore: Anyway, she had no idea who my dad was yet, so when she saw me at the bottom of the pool one day, she, without hesitation, jumped in, and brought me up for air.

Mireille: I was embarrassed.

Aurore: I was flattered, and I wouldn’t mind her saving me again. You know, from something that can actually kill me. The gesture was sweet, though.

Mireille: I got my favorite top wet.

Aurore: All in the name of love.

@msweebyness @imsparky2002

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

why'd you choose three scaffolders to go up against ivan the terrible? that's a genuine question btw you'd mentioned ivan as being one of the front runners so i was wondering if you chose a sacrificial lamb to leave the real battles to later

To be completely honest with you: the majority are completely random. We chose, by my count, 32 [edit: 35?] pairings of the 126. Most of those are either dogs, ancient art, same artist, same theme, or buildings. We did deliberately place the Tumblr Faves first, and then randomized everything else. After randomizing, we skimmed to make sure there wasn't anything egregious, so we had 1 set we had to alter (Exotic Bodies rolled to be up against something that felt really bad, like, Christian pitted against Islam kind of thing which we were really trying to avoid in the first round, and originally we moved The Captive to be against Starry Night because its first randomization was as bad, but I can't remember what it was against now. Might've been versus the screaming pope, but I don't remember moving it THAT far. Seated Woman With Bent Knee was originally randomized against Starry Night, so when we replaced The Captive we put it back.)

Three Scaffolders, just like Stress vs Fallen Angel, and Salvator Mundi vs Untitled Billboard and Rothko vs Quilt, was random. There were a lot of surprisingly good matchups via random.org! Grief of the Pasha being vs a non-realist sculptural monolith and right next to The Monets is utterly hilarious! (the guy despised impressionism) Diana and Fifty Days at Iliam accidentally making the second a result of her arrow worked great! Anguish and If I Died were both animal themes! The cats were random! People keep complimenting our matchups and it's funny because it's mostly random. I mean, a few of the tumblr favs were deliberate, you can blame Mod Salix for forcing you to choose between AIDS grief art since the overlap in theme there was just.... too much to not notice, but most are not.

[lightning-macrine]

No cos really, how are the Izzy haters going to enjoy this season?? Established on the FIRST DAY that yes, actually, Ed has the capability of doing terrible terrible things to the people around him and that in the end, his actions are his own and not EVERYTHING can be blamed on Izzy. Furthermore, when the one getting hurt was just Izzy they were crowing about how he “deserved it!” Or “asked for it!” but at the end of the day it’s not just him who’s been hurt and traumatised now is it?? Unless somehow Jim and Frenchie and Ivan also asked for it?? All this paired together with the interviews with DJenks (both older and more recent) just show that the haters who have no intention of growing up and accepting this are either going to have to get with the program or jump ship (pun very much intended)

[fictionkinfessions]

I may as well get this one off of my chest: I don't know what I could've done any differently. I've been wracking my brain trying to think of it for months. I keep reading all of this insistence that I should've, yet nobody can ever offer alternatives themselves. I know that what I did wasn't ideal. But out of every possible outcome that I spent so, so long thinking through, that was the one I thought would hurt him the least. I thought, foolishly, that it wouldn't at all.

It did. I was wrong. I understand that now. But what else could I have done? We couldn't run; the chance had long past, and there were too many eyes on us. We couldn't simply refuse what was ahead of us; they had their ways of forcing these things, and the punishment would've been too severe for disobedience. I'm not sure he would've even cared to save himself by that point, and that's the worst thought of all. There was no avoiding it. The only thing I could do was sway the results in his favor, and I couldn't afford to fail at that.

I know it seems terrible. It felt terrible. I wish it was a choice I never had to make. But would it really have been better, had I chosen to be violent instead, as if that would've been a fair fight? As if that would've given him any strength to go on? What if the audience liked something like that this time, rather than disqualifying me? They were hypocritical. They had no morals. They didn't care about us when we weren't giving them a show. That's why I had to get it perfectly. I had to ruin my reputation, so no favorites could be played. I had to show him in the same breath that I was doing it with intention, for him, that any "hostility" I'd turn to afterwards wasn't going to be anything real (and even then, I could hardly fake it. I hesitated. I trembled the whole time. I didn't want to hurt him).

I wanted him to go on without me. I wanted him to have a chance to find some sort of peace. Happiness. I wanted him to have a reason to try again, if I could give him that.

I know it wasn't the most gentle display in the world, and if it were up to me, we'd have never been in that position at all... but I wish we had been able to be softer. I guess I wanted him to know that also, even if I never thought he'd want it too. Selfish of me, maybe. But I've already paid the price for it all.

My point is... I did my best. It wasn't enough. Even in the end, I couldn't do anything right by him. But that scene was never ending well. I suppose I'm the easiest to blame and belittle for it, as if it was somehow my choice, us landing in that situation. I just wish people would stop pretending it was anything but a last resort. It was life or death. I wasn't letting him throw his away.

-Ivan (Alien Stage) #☄️🌊🖤

0

[tirkdi]

My Grisha Fic Masterlist

A list of fan fiction I’ve written for the Grishaverse! Rating is “Teen” unless otherwise noted. All book characterizations, mostly darklina.

Multichapter Complete

A Hundred Lifetimes Ago (Alina/the Darkling) (rating: M) (99k words): This fic explores the answers to three questions: What happened to Aleksander and Baghra in those years between Demon in the Wood and The Grisha Trilogy? How might the Darkling and Alina have pushed and pulled and eventually shaped each other if he had reacted to events at the Spinning Wheel differently? And, most importantly: after everything that was done to them, and everything they did to each other, what would it take for our Grisha trilogy immortals to be happy — or at least, have the potential to be?

This is a story of familial love and loss, and other types of love, and anger, and fear. It’s a story about what it means to be alone — and what it means to be together.

The Shadow of War (Alina Starkov/the Darkling, 135k words): Alina’s project in her last year of university has caught Ambassador Morozova’s attention. He convinces her to move to Ravka to bring solar energy to the villages; her role turns out to be much larger than that. Modern day AU and occasional retelling. Nothing Small about this Science.

The Wind and the Darkness (Zoya Nazyalensky, The Darkling): A triptych of scenes with Zoya & the Darkling set before, during, and after Shadow & Bone. Includes rumors, amplifiers, broken ribs, and Alina’s escape, all in the context of two egos large enough that one wonders they can fit in the same room.

Multichapter Incomplete

Mastering the Cut (Alina/the Darkling) (3/4 chapters): Dr. Morozova is a surgical prodigy and master of the cut. Dr. Starkov has the luck and misfortune of becoming his intern. Half crack.

One-shots

A Family Affair (Alina Starkov/Malyen Oretsev & the Darkling): Alina and Mal attend his family reunion. The Morozovas are also there. Features the Darkling’s Terrible Innuendos™. (tumblr)

Three's A Crowd (Alina Starkov/Malyen Oretsev & the Darkling): Immediately post-KoS. Alina and Mal's quiet night in Keramzin is interrupted by a newly not-dead visitor. They never made a very good trio. More of the Darkling’s Terrible Innuendos™.

Once Again, and Always (Alina Starkov/the Darkling): A bird falls in the darkness and becomes a husband. The Sun Summoner and the Darkling have worn a groove in the universe, and they get up once more to play their parts and say their lines. Deathless AU. (tumblr)

Legal Matters (Zoya/Nikolai) (rating: M): AU in which Nikolai & Zoya are lawyers who casually hook up. Mostly an excuse for banter. (tumblr)

Naming a King (the Darkling): Aleksander meets Alexander. Half a century-ish before Shadow & Bone. (tumblr)

Ficlets

Canon-compliant Aleksander gets a goat * Mal & the Darkling do dinner * Nikolai + Genya in the bathroom * A young Darkling visits Fjerda 

Alina and the Darkling rule forever AU Salvation * Yahrzeit * Kittens * Pink * Honey * Blame * Do not. Tempt. Me. * Apologies to William Carlos Williams * Enemy

Other Ivan sides with Alina * Nikolina surprise * Alina as cryptographer * Zoya/Nikolai + honesty * Zoya/Nikolai + drinking * Zoya/Nikolai + bleeding * Alina/Darkling at the camera shop * The Sturmhond

[qqueenofhades]

Gonna go ahead and enable you.

Fivan, Any Continuity, Lost in the Forest (and Ivan won't admit they're lost)

HAPPY PUMPKIN SPICE SEASON

Amusingly enough, someone also asked for this same prompt last year. Apparently, what the people need is The Terrifying Ivan Sakharov Getting Soundly Beaten By Trees.

"Vanya," Fedyor says dubiously, when they have made yet another circle of the thick dark undergrowth, cast out in search of any nearby heartbeats, and have been finally forced to admit that they can't hear, see, or sense anything except the empty and forlorn howling of the darkening wind. "I think we might be lost."

"We are not lost." Ivan angrily brushes a thicket of dead pine needles off his kefta and glares at the glowering wall of trees, as if this is entirely their fault. It's definitely not his. He and Fedyor have only been fully-ranked Heartrenders for less than a year, and now that they have earned their stripes, it is apparently their job (horrible) to take their turn in teaching the younger cadets. They have therefore been put in charge of two dozen aspiring Corporalki, the oldest of whom is eighteen and the youngest is ten, and taken them to the wild woods outside Os Alta to practice their tracking, hunting, and survival skills. All of this land is owned by the tsar, and nobody else is allowed to set foot here on pain of death, so it's become as tangled and thorny and blackened as any Dark Forest in a fairytale. Ivan half-expects to see Baba Yaga leering back at them from the branches.

"Kirigan is going to kill us," Fedyor mutters, as if that's something either of them don't already know. This entire situation was incredibly avoidable, because strictly speaking, Fedyor and Ivan are not supposed to leave the oblivious youths to just fend for themselves. But after a day of drilling them hard, they were interested (ahem) in other kinds of drilling each other hard, and therefore snuck away from the campsite for a bit of private consultation. Now, after full dark has fallen and they've been distracted enough to lose track of time, they've forgotten which way they came from or where to return, and they have nobody to blame but their horny, horny selves. "And if we're lost, we're supposed to stop moving. Sit down and wait for -- "

"I said, we are not lost." The only thing worse than getting caught sneaking off to have furtive sex with his boyfriend (who he has only recently admitted is, in fact, his boyfriend) would be losing their bearings and having to get rescued by the hapless juveniles they have already callously abandoned to the mercy of the wilderness. You'd hope that two dozen Heartrenders, pipsqueaks or otherwise, could avoid getting eaten by wolves, but Ivan doesn't trust children in the least and therefore has his doubts. Even more, if the cadets find out that Ivan Sakharov, already more feared in the Little Palace than battle-hardened warriors twice his age, committed this blunder --

No, no, no. Nope, no, not happening, no. Ivan glares one more time at the trees, ordering them to part (can you Heartrend a plant? He doesn't think so, but he's tempted to try). They don't. He stands still and listens hard. Nothing. No sound. Anywhere. Saints, those infants haven't already gotten devoured, have they? Just think of the paperwork back at the Little Palace. Terrible.

"Vanya." Fedyor tugs on his sleeve again. The situation is genuinely ominous, but he seems to be biting a smirk. "We might have to huddle for warmth again, eh?"

Truth be told, Ivan doesn't mind that part of it, if only he could be assured that nobody, ever, would find out about this. He ventures a few steps into the thicket, then stops short when it quickly becomes too infested with gorse to continue. He kicks at it a few times, which fails to do anything except make his foot hurt. He snorts, steps back, briskly brushes his hands off, and announces curtly, "Well, it's definitely not that way."

"One must respect the serene natural beauty of His Majesty's Ravkan kingdom," Fedyor piously intones, sounding exactly like the Apparat at his most insufferable. "Those who kick bushes are frowned upon by the Saints."

Ivan throws him a dirty look. "Why do I like you, again?"

"Because I put up with you." Fedyor snuggles closer, still obnoxiously untroubled by the prospect of having their reputation ruined for at least the next ten years. "And I'm also very cute."

(Ivan mutters in a deeply disgruntled fashion. He cannot deny it. Teach him to get into an argument with Fedya. He's already well aware that he will never, ever win.)