#i feel like i am finally making progress in learning russian >:)

[drawfee-quot3s]

great! perfect! wonderful! one out of five stars

- julia

[mc-critical]

Along with how her immediate reactions differ each time, Mahidevran's changing feelings on Hürrem's pregnancies (and how that informs her overall progression) show through her going from "I hope you die in childbirth" in E06, to "I hope she suffocates" in E11, to "Allah, you're almighty. Please, help us. Please, make her give birth to a girl" in E17, to "How do you know it'll be a son?" in E25, to, finally, "Congratulations for the newborn prince Cihangir, Hürrem Sultan" in E46.

Mahidevran says the E06 words directly to Hürrem as a retort which ends a confrontation between them in front of Nigar and the concubines where Mahidevran projects unshakeable, sure power after several consecutive losses (that involve pregnancies) in order to negate Hürrem's own attempts at projecting power through demanding better, "worthier" fabrics. Mahidevran's general display of confident security in her position is allowed to linger in most of the first third of the episode, with more contemplative calmness/happiness replacing the bitterness that was accumulated and let out here, but then the projection turns out too fraught of a facade that breaks the second it's challenged in any way and Mahidevran immediately resorts to venom and/or rash actions, like the poison, and/or words, like in this confrontation itself. Hürrem's presence in her life keeps being a recent occurance she won't get used to and her disdain for her is at its rawest and most personal point: she's still reeling from losing her love and losing her child, so she wishes for Hürrem to perish (her laser-focus on the apparent cumulative source of all the problems and her belief that she can still get her old life back if Hürrem simply disappears) and for her to suffer the same way Mahidevran suffered by losing her child as well, it turns out, which is the first time this theme of Mahidevran's dynamic with Hürrem emerges. Her words are vile, but they are put in a new light when we consider that Hürrem got pregnant this soon after Mahidevran lost her own child. It's like the pregnancy Mahidevran wanted so much is almost given to Hürrem instead - she faints after she learns about it just like she fainted after she saw the ring on Hürrem's finger - and when Hürrem brings up the possibility of having not just a son but many sons when Mahidevran's apparently struggled to even conceive at all after Mustafa (E04), she's brought to a spiral; all she can really do is bitterly retort by wishing death. It hurts and it hurts too much to bear, too much to even believe: that can't be, Hürrem has to lie to escape her upcoming marriage, all this can't happen with such a speed and such brutality, fate can't be that cruel, right? Accepting Hürrem being pregnant, accepting Mehmet's existence, another prince's existence (Hürrem becoming completely equal to Mahidevran and Mustafa, thus all the more possibly replacing them), is not just the biggest indication of Hürrem gaining Süleiman's favor yet and her (and Mustafa) getting further away from that on both a personal and massive front, it's more than anything a part of Mahidevran (and even Mustafa) processing the grief for the lost child, especially given what she says in E07: "Am I to celebrate with the Russian slave while I'm grieving with my son?". And she barely processes it, unable to hide her pain. She barely arrives at the ceremony of his birth that she has to be present for, but how can she?

Mahidevran says the E11 words to Gülşah in a personal moment in her chambers at a point where she is allowed to have more such personal moments in the first place. She has gone through many different states in this string of episodes instead of the sorrow - happiness - sorrow throughline from the end of E05 to the entirety of E06: gathering herself a little, regaining her strength after the past events; supporting others in their bad times; reaching a glimmer of hope in her E09 scene with Süleiman; the news of Hürrem's pregnancy being the sorrow after some breathers instead of a yet another drop in the full cup of subsequent losses; and getting consecutive victories, not losses afterwards (Süleiman yelling at Hürrem after the fire and letting Mahidevran kiss his head before he leaves for Rhodes), albeit with some possible scenarios of losses cropping up (but these losses aren't just hers). All of this shows even in the different reactions she has to the pregnancy itself: there's a similar bitterness to last time in "I hope she suffocates" but it emerges rather at the heat of the moment (right when Hürrem gives birth) instead of in a casual confrontation (but the pregnancy itself is revealed in a casual confrontation that also includes choosing fabric), and after her startled almost resignation in that aforementioned casual confrontation, her now clear upset after she gets out of the room and overhears Hürrem and her attempt at acceptance while helping Mustafa accept that he may indeed have another sibling. It's like she's given a little more time to get used to Hürrem's pregnancy or at least not ponder on it that much after so much else is happening around her. She doesn't really process it, but she tries to each time it comes up. Hürrem's existence; her being there beside SS, beside everyone is starting to sink in. She may not just actually give birth to a child, but may also give birth to another prince, she may and will even keep giving birth (as she tells Gülşah). Hürrem has already taken a solid place in Süleiman's heart and Mahidevran (and Mustafa) has already fallen, no matter how much it hurts. But as it still hurts, as it still remains painful, there's still the want for Hürrem to just perish, for her to not make it this time after she constantly seems to have made it up until now, for them all to be at peace. The possible death of the child, though, isn't uttered and wished upon this time. Mahidevran's already prepared for its existence in a way. And the agonizing wait for the outcome of Hürrem's birth even ends with relief Mahi is eager to celebrate demostrably yet from a distance (treating the harem with sweets; the concubines get the sweets separately, while she and Mustafa eat with Valide), even though there isn't a naming ceremony this time as SS is absent (and Mahidevran brings Hürrem's E06 retort about her having more/only princes back at her).

Mahidevran says the E17 words to Gülşah again, but now it's next to more people, royal family and servants alike, during times of happiness, a wedding of a friend and ally that she herself has shown joy and enthusiasm about previously, but can't entirely join in as it actually happens. It's definitely a matter of more signs of Süleiman and Hürrem's relationship being entirely solidified appearing in rapid succession after Hürrem was supposedly gone for good (she actually got exiled here unlike in E05 where her marriage was all but immediately thwarted), but what makes the wound bleed is the recent supposed rumor of pregnancy Mahidevran herself went through. Just like Hü was brought back by one of Mahi's allies (Ibrahim), the rumor was spread by her closest servant (Gülşah), so Mahi goes through both a disillusionment of her closest people and an echo of the hardest reality she's had to face - the most devastating tragedy she's experienced so far. It's like everything repeats again. Last time she was pregnant and lost her child, this time she's assumed pregnant but she knows the truth: she doesn't have a child, she doesn't believe even in the possibility of a pregnancy anymore. How can she be pregnant when SS invited her to her chambers several times, but didn't even touch her? How can she be pregnant when it's so hard for her to conceive anyway, let alone with that hurdle in mind? How can she be pregnant when she's only had constant disappointments for years? Her child is gone, she can no longer have a child. Her enduring the check of the midwife again, Hürrem becoming pregnant instead again, is Mahidevran having to once again feel the pain of that loss so close. And like last time, she could barely share it with anyone; not due to what she did afterwards (and Süleiman being an absolute dick), but worse yet, due to everyone telling her to suck it up, preventing her from talking about any of the grievances of her 'private life'. With the resentment she gains for that and what she could share however, Mahidevran actually ends up having her grief for her lost child move along. She fully reveals her resentment of how they all should have boys in order to be considered human in the castle, of how they all even have to give birth in general, and gains bitter acceptance of it. She doesn't just accept these circumstances, she accepts Hürrem's pregnancy. She doesn't hope for either her or the child to die, she actually hopes for her to give birth but to a girl instead. She allows herself to lean on that hope, as it's already happened before. She turns to Allah again, as since her prayers were fulfilled before, they can be fulfilled once more. She can be blessed once more. Hürrem's pregnancy can't be avoided, Hürrem will survive, a child will certainly be born, but let's cling to the likeability of what would be the safer outcome, the lesser evil. And even though Selim, a prince again, is born, Mahidevran keeps on with her bitter acceptance and even makes direct steps to show it, actively concealing the pain underneath. She has to act by the rules, so she does exactly that, even giving something of herself too during the naming ceremony (the amulet). Because both her "Allah, you're almighty. Please, help us. Please, make her give birth to a girl" words and her actions afterwards show her growing belief of supreme justice. Hürrem may continue her rise, but it will get better for Mahidevran sooner or later, justice will prevail. And a huge part of that is Mustafa having grown up just a little more. It all goes from "Do you think giving birth to a boy is enough? You can give birth to five, if you wish." in E08 where Mahidevran latches onto her haseki position to process Mehmet's birth (while demanding the necessary respect Hürrem has to give her), to "Don't get too excited for your second son. What matters is which prince is the heir to the throne." in E17 where Mahidevran latches onto her position as Mustafa's sole mother. What will happen next remains unclear, but it's certainly Mustafa that has the bigger advantage.

Mahidevran mutters the E25 words to herself, a new element alongside all the callbacks the line and the context around it provide: it's said around both royal family and servants like in E17, even more of them attending in fact, during the commotion while Hürrem gives birth like in E11 and, most notably, "How do you know it'll be a son?" is a direct reference to the exact confrontation with Hürrem where Mahidevran utters her E06 words in, words that are a response of Hü's to that exact same question Mahi poses in E25, only asked in a less biting, more genuinely astounded manner (more "how do you even know what's going to happen when everything around here is so uncertain, when I lost my child when I was just pregnant?" and less of the "why are you so sure; don't be so sure, don't be so arrogant, for you'll fall as quick as you rose" theme that comes up more from S02A-onwards). She again has gotten a bit of a breather after a recent panic (Gülşah stabbing Gülnihal) is not just dealt with, but seemingly about to be forgotten (both by the characters and the narrative) as she let out all her possible frustration and anger and outright dread right there and managed to convince everyone that she has nothing to do with any of it regardless - there's also a bigger distance between the sorrow and the pregnancy news than ever before - so after a much larger matter just passed her by, Hürrem's pregnancy isn't such a blow anymore. But it still wouldn't be otherwise, as it is already expected. She got pregnant so many times already, how is it a surprise that she is pregnant again?? Of course she is pregnant again, how can she not be?? (why does she even announce something so obvious?) It's not about Hürrem or her child being gone anymore, it's just all about whether will Hürrem have a boy or a girl. Mahidevran doesn't want another boy and doesn't want Hürrem to be so sure of having a boy either, as all two scenarios have already turned out possible (and both Mahi and Hü have seen that for themselves). She says the line in an offhanded manner just like her E24 reaction was more offhanded (her half-smirk was clear enough), witnessing everything from the sides and brazenly commenting on it to herself at the moment instead of needing and taking her time to come to terms with it. And Mahidevran is willing to distance from Hürrem (she isn't that focused on Bayezid's naming ceremony, either), not wanting to do anything unprompted, waiting to take advantage of when Hürrem fails and act only then (E16-E23; S02A) as much as she's distanced (or rather fully removed) Hürrem from her past loss of a child, seen in the full-circle moment in E26 where she apparently recognizes that she lost her child entirely because of sorrow and agrees with Valide's words to console Hatice about her own worry of losing a child yet again. Mahidevran's procession of her grief seems to be at its steadiest: she can still hardly talk about her lost child, seeing Süleiman pay attention to Hürrem's children before he leaves for campaigns and after he returns in S02A still hurts, but she has Mustafa now. And he'll become more and more accomplished and make his mother proud - he will even come with Süleiman in the campaign (another sign of further growth) a while after Bayezid's birth (he'll return before the campaign is over, but that's besides the point, as we also have Mustafa as the focus of Mahidevran and Süleiman's interactions which fuel her hope throughout S02A).

Mahidevran says the E46 words directly to Hürrem again but they're not aimed only at her; due to the very nature of their confrontation here, Mahidevran has to say them for all to hear. She's fully settled down after she went through her biggest sorrow as SS's haseki (him marrying Hürrem) and she's had to live with a new status quo that included only her and her son for quite some time now. She's just returned to Topkapi, so she hasn't even been around during the entirety of Hürrem's pregnancy and birth. And even if there's been something to process, she's processed it in Edirne, away from the audience's eyes (just like only a blip from Hürrem's pregnancy with Cihangir is seen during the timeskip montage: it's all ceased to be an event not just for Mahi, but even for us, the audience. and Cihangir's birth being portrayed as so leeway and usual makes the later revelation of his hunchback all the more devastating). She congratulates Hürrem after taking a long breath, she mentions Cihangir by title and by name, fully acknowledging that he is a prince, that he exists. She's completely able to live with that now. And there's confidence in her words that underlines the confidence she's developed in Edirne, next to her son, the confidence she has in that very moment, as this confrontation happens during Mustafa's oath ceremony, during her son's event, her event. Now they are at the center stage in what's basically a celebration of how far they've both come. Mahidevran owns the room and believes in her own capabilities now, believes in her son's future more than ever before (as he's now fully grown), so no one would stand there and threaten it, let alone a little şehzade (the other şehzades might, but that doesn't matter now). Hürrem also isn't such a personal threat in the same way she once was (as Mahidevran already fell out of love with SS): both still have history, there's still 'awkwardness' between them in this confrontation, and Mahidevran will still be keen on eliminating her (her involvement in the cariye riot orchestrated by Hafsa in E47) and protecting her son from her at all costs (the Efsun debacle and all else), but while Hürrem's position is obvious and sealed, so is Mahidevran's now. Thus Mahidevran finally adresses her as "Hürrem Sultan". From the "you" in E06 where she often didn't mention her by name at all and didn't want to be reminded of her name by anyone else either, using the "you" to clap back, towering above her; to the "shes" in E11 and E17 where Mahi puts distance between herself and Hü, hoping for Hü to become less of a threat, "become more distant" too (by either perishing or giving birth to a girl), acknowledging her as someone who's there but she still struggles to accept her - it's almost like when Mahi utters the "shes", it's so obvious who she's referring to as she both points to her and obscures her through them; to the other "you" in E25 that signifies even further distance as Hürrem seemingly can't distance herself from Mahidevran but Mahidevran has distanced herself from her instead, yet Hü is still "Hürrem Hatun" to Mahi (even in E43-E45) and that facilitates the "you", Mahidevran gets to Hürrem's level but Hürrem isn't on Mahidevran's; to the furthest distance in "Hürrem Sultan" in E46 where she adresses her more formally than ever but by both her name and real title and she'll pretty much continue to do so as Hürrem's position lays there, unchanged but Mahidevran's position has changed (something she had to grapple with in E45, also wanting to change her position to be like Hürrem's but then embracing the change of her own position instead). Hürrem has gotten as far as she possibly could as a haseki, so that should be recognized, but Mahidevran can go further as a future valide, further than Hürrem. Besides, anything can happen: as change hit Mahidevran, it'll hit Hürrem too eventually (hence she can even fall from her position as SS's one and only as well: E61) and Mahidevran will benefit this time.

The new stage of Mahidevran's life is also put forth by Hürrem's response: "... I'd say the same to you but God willing, you'll take care of Mustafa's babies now. Being a grandmother will suit you". This was surely a hit to Mahidevran as she got a little put aback (while keeping her demeanor) and lost in thought before Hafsa switched the topic (though I don't think Hürrem said it to offend), this too was probably another small reminder of what she's lost, including the chance to bear any more children. But maybe that's also why she latched onto her grandchildren, onto Nergisşah so much, demanding utmost care for them, giving them her love perhaps as the children she never had, and why letting Nergisşah go in E129 gets even more painful in retrospect than it already was. She parts not just with her closest person left, with the last trace of her family left, but also with her last child. And she lets her go herself.

[bookmuseum]

[REVIEW] War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

4/5 stars (★★★★)

DISCLAIMER: I will compare W&P a lot to Anna Karenina because it’s Tolstoy’s other masterpiece and my favorite book. Also oh my God, this review is so long and disorganized. I tried my best to break it apart into digestible sections, but that’s what happens when I take over a month to read a Russian brick with a girth the size of Napoleon’s fat French ego.

“I was happy and free and in such a good mood. I didn’t realize how happy I was. When did that end, and when did this ghastly business begin?”

General Overview and W&P as a ���Book”

It took me seven years to finally read this book. I got this beautiful clothbound Penguin edition in my last year of high school from my best friend. Another girl in my class (who I didn’t like because she said Dostoyevsky wasn’t good, the bitch) was reading it too to show off that she could do it, and the petty side of me wanted to immediately start it (I had already read Anna Karenina and loved it, how hard can it be?) but I also knew there was absolutely no way an eighteen year old going into Biology for university would even survive the first 100 pages of W&P. And I was right. I am so glad I chose to wait until I was a little older (and transferred to English, leaving my cursed STEM days behind) to finally read it. I am not eager to re-read it any time soon though. 

Before I actually started W&P, I watched a few documentary videos and did a modest Wikipedia dive into the Napoleonic Wars, particularly the Battle of Borodino and the French invasion of Russia in 1812 that I knew the novel’s climax would lead up to. I did this partly because I’m insane, but mostly because I knew virtually nothing about this point in time beyond what I learned in high school (most of my Russian historical knowledge starts around the late 19th to early 20th century). I was so, so glad that I did some research beforehand because I would’ve been so lost if I didn’t! I knew this edition translated and edited by Anthony Briggs was lacking in the supplementary reading department just from skimming the Introduction (the book gradually decreased its footnote quality and quantity as the book progressed), so I had to find my context elsewhere. I had fun researching, though I know not many would have found it all that entertaining. I also looked a little more into Tolstoy’s life and read the book’s chronology of him. Despite being one of my favorite authors, I feel like as a person he’s very distant and far away to me, which makes it even more hard-hitting during the moments when he says stuff that’s all too real like, “The countess was repeating the delusion of so many parents, who imagine their children have no secrets from them.” Damn, Leo. You’re right. 

I spent a week on the preliminary stuff. W&P is one of those epic classic tomes that everyone says they’ll read, but never do. I totally get it. I honestly almost died and/or accidentally gave myself a concussion trying to haul this book around while I was reading it. This shit takes dedication. Even though I had some background set up, it was still difficult to know where to start because it’s so, so long. Yes, I love Russian literature, but I’d be lying if I said W&P’s >1400+ pages didn’t intimidate me. It also didn’t help that the book itself was awkward and heavy to carry; it made me realize how I do a lot of reading on-the-go because the book was so huge and unportable that I was forced to leave it at home whenever I went out, which significantly slowed down my reading pace. (W&P isn’t exactly a light cafe read that I can just tote around all day). That being said, I was surprised at how straightforward and easy to read the actual prose was, especially in the beginning when Tolstoy focused more on exposition and introducing the plot. I was so grateful that the chapters were so short; I think that alone kept me reading and significantly interested for a good chunk because I’d suddenly find myself having read 100 pages without getting too tired with the story. The writing is modern and simple enough to follow for the most part, although Briggs did say in his Introduction that one of his biggest aims was to make the book more accessible. For anyone who wants to read W&P but is scared to do it, I would say that, at least, this is one of its few consolations. 

I Hate Men But Specifically Andrey Bolkonsky

My first impression when I actually got into the thick of things was that I really, really disliked the main male characters. When I met Prince Andrey and Pierre, I immediately hated the former and was extremely wary of the latter for appearing to be such a weak-willed person. I think Tolstoy succeeded a little too well in establishing Pierre as a rakish, deplorable character at the start of the book. His initial slutty, drunken forays at Kuragin’s were boring to read. I thought the bear tied to the police episode was funny, but when it was actually happening I was more disgusted by the careless animal torture done by these rich upper-class men than the cop harrassment. So much male stupidity in those beginning parts; I found it hard to sympathize with Pierre and even got to a point where I was frustrated he was one of the main characters. Like big whoop, you’re a bastard and don’t know your father very well but you’re also his favorite so you’re not like other girls wah wah what happened to “No one has ever complained of being too much loved“? Get real and grow up, Pierre. (I’d eventually grow fond of him, but not for another hundred or so pages).

Andrey was even worse because he had the audacity to stay horrible the entire time. His mistreatment of his young pregnant wife Princess Lise really unsettled me, especially that scene when she tries to call him out on his cruelty for leaving her all alone with his family even though she’s scared to give birth to his child amongst strangers and Andrey essentially throws a manchild tantrum, making her feel guilty for worrying about the future. Pierre was also in that scene and he just stood by and did nothing, even when the “little princess” was violently sobbing, which is so typical. I think Lise’s character was well written, albeit one-dimensional. She was a complete victim. Tolstoy illustrates very well how men enable and excuse one another’s misogyny and violence. I never forgave Andrey for what he did to her. When she says, “I loved all of you, I never hurt anybody, and look what you have done to me, just look what you have done to me,” it broke my heart and I relished in how it made Andrey feel so guilty. 

He grew more infuriating when he got on the battlefield. He seemed so indifferent to all the carnage around him, spending most of his energy glorifying the war and not caring about anyone but himself. Even when he does change and start to reflect more on who he is as a person, he always fell short from truly realizing the immensity of his assholeism. More on him later.

I did like some male characters though, like Denisov and his odd way of talking. I also liked old Count Ilya Rostov, Kutuzov, Platon Karatayev, and little prince Nikolay. I knew Petya was going to die so I forced myself not to like him much, which wasn’t very hard since he was kind of a dithering idiot.

Thoughts on the Rostovs and Russian Aristocracy

I liked reading about the Rostovs consistently; I think out of the four main families in the book (although can I really count the Drubetskoys as a fourth?), I enjoyed their sections the best. Interestingly enough, out of the Rostovs, I found the eldest daughter Vera the most fascinating, so I was kind of disappointed when Tolstoy married her off and she didn’t show up in the text anymore after that little housewarming party. He established her as a Lady Macbeth-like figure and I thought she had so much potential being the “black sheep” of the Rostov clan. I know the book is already long as it is, but I wouldn’t have minded more exploration of Vera, but oh well.

With the Rostovs, I also met another male character I never learned to like much, which is Nikolay. He was entertaining at first in Volume I, but quickly turned extremely dull and like a spoiled brat in my eyes, especially when he goes to war. More on him later, but for now all I can say is there’s no way Tolstoy didn’t know he was making Nikolay into a queer coded character. There is no heterosexual explanation for how homeboy was practically ecstatic and pissing himself whenever he saw the tsar.

I hated the wolf hunting section. I hate hunting scenes in general, but this one is one of the most extravagantly bullshit ones I’ve ever read. So many people were involved just to go chase after a wolf and her cubs; I found it all extremely stupid and diabolically gauche. Amongst many things, the hunt and how excited everyone was for it reminded me how radically different life was back then, especially in regards to the painful disparity between the classes. That part, more than any other in W&P, was so unnecessarily drawn out and lugubriously artificial in its useless aristocratic camaraderie and performative civility to me. Like with the rest of the novel, I was struck by the fact that the characters are very human, yes, but I found them very hard to relate to here because their nobility made them more cringe-worthy and idiotic than usual. I liked that line: “He looked on life as one long party that someone was bound to arrange for him.” I thought that encapsulated the Russian aristocrats perfectly. Their gross wealth and frivolous “problems” painted them in pathetic, unworthy colors to me. When they said stuff like, “But then, I am used to suffering,” and “I shall remember there are no rewards in this world, that in this world there is no honour or justice. In this world you need to be clever and wicked,” I found myself rolling my eyes with the melodrama of it all, rather than actually feeling bad for them. Call me heartless, call me vain. So much rich white people nonsense. Tolstoy unintentionally made it worse by meticulously mentioning the lower classes, valets, peasantry, serfs, servants, and subordinates that attended to all these people. 

Thankfully, after the Rostov hunting episode came one of my favorite sections in the book: Tolstoy’s writing turned magical when he described the Rostovs’ Christmastime in the country. Natasha’s character became more fleshed out here and, to me, she started to be more like a human being that breathes and thinks and feels. That section reminded me a lot of the lyricism and romantic aspects I love so much from AK. It reminded me why I love Tolstoy’s writing; it made me feel so nostalgic and happy just like the characters were, though even when I read it I kept shaking my head because Tolstoy loves romanticizing the poor and “simple” life whilst at the same time never seeing the peasant and serf characters as equals worthy of contemplation.

W&P goes on to have a lot of great lines on truth, the human condition, and the cosmos like, “Nothing has been discovered . . . and nothing has been invented. The only thing we can know is that we don’t know anything. And that is the summit of human wisdom,” and “I feel I can never disappear because nothing disappears in the whole universe, and more than that, I always shall be and always have been in existence. I feel that other spirits exist, far above me, and it’s in their world that you will find truth.” A lot of these quotes were delivered by the Rostovs. I wrote down a lot of them because I appreciated their existential quality, kind of like some of the scenes when Pip was looking up at the sky in Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. (Of course, the scene that parallels that one best of all is the great comet of 1812 one with Pierre at the end of Volume II). There were a handful of amazing parts, which is to be expected of a classic, but of course it’s impossible to list and talk about them all in the detail that I would want to. 

War (Eugh)

“Once you allow that human life is subject to reason you extinguish any possibility of life.”

I won’t lie: Unlike with AK, which was at least consistent in how it centered around the Russian nobility and high society, I found W&P to be quite a slog a good chunk of the time, especially once we went to war and Tolstoy started going off about shit like, “Each man lives for himself, using his freedom to to get what he wants, and he feels with every fibre of his being that at any particular time he is free to perform an action or refrain from doing so, but the moment any action is taken it becomes an irrevocable piece of history, with a significance which has more to do with predetermination than freedom.” Like okay, that’s somewhat touching and novel, but then he goes on with the long, long passages like:

“We, their descendants — those of us who are not historians seduced by the pleasures of research and can therefore review events with unclouded common sense — find ourselves faced with an incalculable multiplicity of causes. The more deeply we go into the causes, the more of them there are, and each individual cause, or group of causes, seems as justifiable as all the rest, and as false as all the rest in its worthlessness compared with the enormity of the actual events, and it’s further worthlessness (unless you combine it with all the other associated causes) in validating the events that followed . . . If any one of these causes had been missing, nothing could have happened. It follows therefore that all of these causes, billions of them, came together to bring about subsequent events, and these events had no single cause, being bound to happen simply because they were bound to happen. Millions of men, abandoning all human feelings and common sense, were bound to march from west to east and slay their fellows, just as a few centuries ago hordes of men had marched from east to west slaying their fellows.”

Initially my reaction to these tangents was, “That’s all well and fine, Leo. You go, you funky little man,” but my bemusement didn’t last. Maybe because I’m not Russian. After Volume III especially, Tolstoy suddenly decides his yapping about historiographic theory is much better than the hundreds of pages of plot he’d set up and gotten me invested in. Every couple chapters, he’d interrupt the narrative to sprinkle in something groundbreaking like, “‘The hearts of kings are in the hands of God.’ . . . Kings are the slaves of history. . . . History — the amorphous, unconscious life within the swarm of humanity — exploits every minute in the lives of kings as an instrument for the attainment of its own ends.” Very witty, very wise, but there is a reason why this book is so long and it’s partly unjustified. 

While I enjoyed some of these ruminations, I had hoped, like a fool, that the philosophizing would tone down, but it gradually increased. There are entire series of chapters of just Tolstoy presenting his ideas on war, history, freedom, morality, greatness, etc. He made sure you knew he was clever and everyone else was his inferior: “And it never enters anybody’s head that to acknowledge greatness as something existing beyond the rule of right and wrong is to acknowledge one’s own nothingness and infinite smallness . . . And greatness cannot exist without simplicity, goodness and truth.” Though I didn’t necessarily disagree with what he was saying, it was genuinely so aggravating, his Tolstoyian high-horse. (I know what you’ve done Leo, I know the things you did and how messy you were in real life). I fell asleep during these parts the most. I thought I’d enjoy reading about the war sections since I knew Tolstoy drew from his own personal military and war experience, but I found the battlefield to be as boring as it was unoriginal. True, Tolstoy mentions dead men, blood, explosions, gunfire, and chaos, but he does it so casually and without much emotional weight, which is effective in showing just how mind-numbing war is, but it was also somewhat narratively dull: “He was looking at faces and bodies, but they all seemed equally meaningless.” Tolstoy ironically made me all the more sure that, despite all the fanfare and loud noise, war is very boring -- more so than I think he intended. It’s true I was impressed by the book’s extremely vivid details at the start, but over time it grew unbearable and overwhelming. There’s only so much genius you can admire in a man like Tolstoy until you get exhausted with his vanity. He loves the sound of his own voice.

When he did go into his characters’ minds though, I really liked it. I liked when Nikolay had his arm blown off by a cannon exploding and that part when he’s being chased after by two French soldiers but all he can think about is how they don’t really want to kill him, surely, because “everybody loves me!” That made me laugh. Ah, human folly. I liked the moments when characters were just in complete shock with what was happening to them: “It was beyond belief: they were the only ones who knew what life meant to them, so they couldn’t understand, or believe, that it could be taken away.” Tolstoy demonstrated a very intimate yet detached outlook on the battlefield and war. Through the characters, W&P elegantly depicted the anxiety, painful waiting, and standstill of war right before a big fight happens, and then suddenly everything’s unrecognizable chaos:

“One step across that dividing line, so like the one between the living and the dead, and you enter an unknown world of suffering and death. What will you find there? Who will be there? There, just beyond that field, that tree, that sunlit roof? No one knows, and yet you want to know. You dread crossing that line, and yet you still want to cross it. You know sooner or later you will have to go across and find out what is there beyond it, just as you must inevitably find out what lies beyond death. Yet here you are, fit and strong, carefree and excited, with men all around you just the same — strong, excited, and full of life.”

Even though I hate Andrey, I really liked his thoughts during the Schöngrabern engagement and the night leading up to Battle of Austerlitz: 

“Tomorrow, oh yes, tomorrow! . . . Maybe tomorrow will see the last of me, and there will be no more memories — all these memories will have no more meaning for me. Maybe tomorrow — yes, it must be tomorrow — I can feel it coming — for the first time I shall have to show what I’m made of. . . I don’t know what happens next, I can’t possibly know, I don’t wish to know, but if that’s what I want, if I want glory, if I want to be famous and loved by everyone, it’s not my fault that I want this, that this is all I care for, the only thing I live for. Yes, only this! I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone, but, my God!, what can I do, if I care for nothing but glory and the love of men?”

All of that made Andrey’s wake up-call at the end of Volume I all the more satisfying to read: “Looking Napoleon straight in the eye, Prince Andrey mused on the insignificance of greatness, on the insignificance of human life, the meaning of which no one could understand, and most of all the insignificance of death, which no living person could make sense of or explain . . . No, nothing is certain, nothing but the nothingness of all that we can understand, and the splendour of something we can’t understand, but we know to be infinitely important!”

Unfortunately he only half gets it because it's after this that Andrey turns really cynical and broods more than usual, which is so unattractive and irritating: “Who’s right and who’s wrong? No one is. Just live for the day . . . tomorrow you die . . . I could have died an hour ago. And why worry when you’ve only got a second to live on the scale of eternity?” He really thought he had discovered something new about the universe and that made him special, when really he just came to one of the laziest conclusions there is. 

Princess Marya Best Girl

It’s safe to say that I much preferred the “peace” sections in the book. I don’t have enough time or patience to discuss every part that struck me, but I just wanted to mention that scene in Bald Hills when Princess Marya tries to prepare herself and look pretty to meet Anatole while her friends fussed over her in vain. It was really relatable. Her body dysmorphia broke my heart, I knew exactly how she felt. And Princy Vasily and Anatole’s thinly veiled misogyny and complete indifference to all her efforts were all too cruel and realistic. Ugh. Men! It’s always the men!

I think Marya was one of the most strikingly humane characters, which was unexpected because Tolstoy usually doesn’t imbibe his female characters with that much soul (or when he does, he kills them off eventually like Anna Karenina). His scathing depiction of the Bolkonsky’s family gender dynamics were eerily brilliant. It was so obvious that Andrey and the old prince expected Marya to do all of the emotional labor and caretaking for them, but they never once acknowledge even to themselves that what they're doing is cruel. I found their relationships and interactions with one another to be viscerally realistic. It’s clear the old prince’s mounting torture of Marya stems from the fact that he emotionally and physically relies on her to a degree that he can't intellectually handle, so he compensates for his feeling emasculated by his own daughter by bullying her severely. Despite appearances, Marya is the head of the family. She’s the nucleus of the household yet also the one with the least appreciation and authority — a classic conundrum of being a woman, particularly the eldest (or only) daughter in a male-dominated household. Even with Mademoiselle Bourienne (who also puts her through a lot of emotional labor that she doesn’t seem to reciprocate), Marya acts more like an elder sister than an equal friend: “I love you more than ever . . . and I shall try to do everything in my power to make you happy.” And the worst part is that Bourienne betrays her over and over again, first with Anatole then her father! It was so upsetting. To add, when Lise was alive, Marya was at her beck and call more than anyone to the point of exhaustion; it’s almost like she symbolically took on the emotional burden of pregnancy, whilst Lise handled the physical and literal aspects of it (not to downgrade either of those, of course). Marya perfectly embodies what countless women are forced to go through every day for little to no reward; it was all so pathetically spot-on and tragic. 

I was even more impressed because Tolstoy emphasizes how Andrey also contributes to Marya’s suffering, but he doesn’t even see it because he’s too caught up with patting himself on the back for being such a good brother and son. Marya literally raises his baby for him and he never once expresses anything like gratitude throughout the entire book, as if her being Nikolay’s surrogate mother after Lise died was always a given. It made his supposed “remorse” for losing his wife seem even more disgustingly inauthentic because he didn’t learn anything from her death, as evidenced by how he continues to mistreat his sister -- the woman who selflessly tries to be both the mother Nikolay never had and the emotional support to Andrey that he’s been deprived of when Lise died. It’s so horrible too because, even though there is that one small part at Bald Hills when they “co-parent” the baby while he’s sick, it’s overwhelmingly clear that Marya does the day-to-day childcare and Andrey just fucks off whenever he feels like it. When he does come back, he almost always complains about how she’s raising his son by disagreeing with the decisions she is so clearly more qualified to make for him. In general, he’s so condescending to her in a way that annoyingly echoes his father’s sadism; for example, there's that one scene where Andrey and Pierre find Marya hanging out with some pilgrims, and Andrey the asshole’s immediate reaction is to belittle and make fun of her to the point that even Pierre gets a little freaked out by it and apologizes to her for him. His weaponized incompetence and total cognitive dissonance to reality coupled with his laughable attempts to prove himself a “good man” throughout the book made him a joke of a character to me. That’s why I really liked that small jab Tolstoy includes when Andrey is being sassy towards his sister, claiming to have his own private epiphanies that she couldn’t possibly understand. The text says, “It was at times like this that Princess Marya thought how desiccated men’s minds become with all that intellectual activity.” Get his ass, Marya! Eviscerate him! He isn’t smart or deep, he’s just a complete tool! I was so glad when he died, I don’t care.

Tolstoy also kept bringing up how, to the very end, Marya always managed to make excuses and forgive her family, especially her father, but the reader really can’t help but feel absolutely infuriated for her. Even if he didn’t intend to show it, it’s obvious Tolstoy based a lot of Marya’s character on his own wife, who did the majority of his emotional and domestic labor for him in real life. It’s very typical that Tolstoy subtly admires and narratively allies himself with Marya because he likes and is attracted to her nobility in theory but in actuality he fails to appreciate or even help his wife with her own work and the life they supposedly share together. Ugh! Men! Always men!

Pierre, Dear Bewildered And Awkward Pierre 

I hope all that ranting has proven that Marya is my favorite character and the one I relate to the most. Pierre is a relatively close second. Even though we had a rough start, I did eventually come around to liking him and his awkwardness. I laughed when Julie Karagin calls him “a miserable specimen of manhood.” That’s when I knew I was dealing with an ideal Russian novel protagonist. By the end of the novel, Pierre is even a little self-aware of his own mysteriously intriguing essence, which I found quite funny: “I’ve come to the conclusion it’s an easy life being an interesting person. (I am now an interesting person.) People invite me over, and they do the talking.”

Tolstoy took great care defining Pierre and fleshing him out not just as the stereotypical “good man,” but a man trying to be good and usually failing: “He had the unfortunate capacity that many men have . . . for seeing and believing in the possibility of goodness and truth, yet seeing the evil and falsehood in life too clearly to be capable of taking any serious part in it.” He reminded me a lot of Kostya from AK, of course, but he felt more flawed and malleable than Konstanin because he just kept messing up over and over again. (True, Kostya also screwed up a lot, but Pierre is on a whole different level). And, most endearingly, he kept coming back for more, which was as admirable as it was ridiculously foolish. I love how Tolstoy lowkey suggested he reached the pinnacle of human suffering: “He had learnt that there is a limit to suffering and a limit to freedom, and those limits are never far away; that a man who has felt discomfort from a crumpled petal in his bed of roses has suffered just as much as he was suffering now, sleeping on the bare, damp earth, with one side freezing while the other side warmed up . . .” Basically, he went through so much bullshit that he reached the last boss level of agony and found enlightenment. Huzzah.

Yes, I felt for Pierre’s seemingly never-ending struggle trying to find his purpose in life, which I found to be more noble than any other character’s quest for meaning (Andrey’s was just pretentious). Pierre went through rollercoaster after rollercoaster of emotions throughout the entire book -- arguably, he experiences the entire spectrum of human emotions, which is what makes him so grand to me. Even when he started growing cynical after he got arrested and put into prison, I never blamed him for being pessimistic like I did with Andrey: “But now he felt he wasn’t to blame for the world collapsing before his eyes and leaving nothing but meaningless ruins behind. He felt powerless; there was no way back to his old faith in life.” I know it’s not exactly fair to compare both their sufferings or claim one got hurt more than the other (although Andrey did die, so I guess he wins in that department), but Pierre’s internal struggles matched his external grievances much more poetically to me than anyone else’s did. I was fascinated with how he went back and forth from aristocratic balls, futile trips to manage his different estates, underground clubs with gambling and debauchery, visits to his relatives and loved ones, the battlefield, the freemasons’ secret hideouts and meetings, the soulless social functions, the Moscow streets on fire, the different towns on the home front being ravaged by the French, etc. He was compelling. He was a conqueror. Every step he took moved the book forward for me. His character development made his epiphanic moments near the end all the more satisfying:

“And out beyond the forests and fields lay all the shimmering, beckoning distance of infinity. Pierre glanced up at the sky and the play of the stars receding into the depths. ‘And it’s all mine, and it’s all within me, and it all adds up to me!’ thought Pierre. ‘And they caught all that, shut it up in a shed and boarded it in!’”

Pierre had his pathetic loverboy romantic moments too, which always helps. He was both Kostya and Count Vronsky, but better. The line, “If I was somebody else, the handsomest, the cleverest, the best man in the world, and if I were free, I’d be down on my knees right now begging for your hand and your love” will forever be iconic. I honestly didn’t warm up to Pierre and Natasha as a couple until the epilogue since they both seemed so unlikely, albeit good friends, for each other, but when Pierre said that line after gallantly rescuing her from the crafty Kuragin siblings marked a shift in my shipping journey with them. And of course no W&P review is complete without mentioning this absolutely gorgeous line said by him:

“Every single thing I understand, I understand only because of love. Everything is — everything exists — only because I love."

Oh, he’s such a dreamer! “The whole meaning of life, for him and the whole world, seemed to be contained in his love and the possibility of being loved in return.” Oh, how our hearts bleed for him! “With his heart overflowing with love he loved people for no reason at all, and then had no trouble discovering many a sound reason that made them worth loving.” You are too wholesome for this world, Pierre. Too soft, too emotional, too impressionable and well-intentioned! 

I will say though that Pierre Bezukhov has got to be one of the most unhinged characters I’ve ever come across in classic literature, and that’s saying something. (Yes, I’d even say he’s more unhinged than Victor Frankenstein, Dorian Gray, and Henry Jekyll). He was so unnerving and off his rocker the entire time. Tolstoy consistently portrays him as big and strong too, so I kept imagining this gentle giant who felt things too much and didn’t know how to handle it. One screw was always a little too loose with this guy. Even when he’d say poetic stuff like “Life is everything. Life is God. Everything is in flux and movement, and this movement is God . . . To love life is to love God. The hardest and most blessed thing is to love this life even in suffering, innocent suffering,” you’d smile and nod politely because yes, I agree, but you have genuinely lost your marbles, dude. There were parts when he would just burst out laughing randomly for no reason or stumble his way around town in a daze, like he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. A lot of the time he genuinely was totally out of it. I could feel him physically vibrating with anxiety and angst, especially when he lost his temper (like when he challenges Dolokhov, that made my jaw drop) or when he confronts Anatole after he finds his wife and brother-in-law had conspired to abduct Natasha Rostov for their own selfish amusement. That entire interaction was insane, by the way. He was so right for banishing Anatole and rebuking him like that, but imagine your brother-in-law, who everyone makes fun of for being a corpulent cuckold, starts berating you about this girl you like and threatens to kill you if you don’t stay away from her. And that’s not all, because Pierre goes ahead and adds Anatole should instead fuck his sister, who is also his wife. Holy shit? I was cheering for him that entire scene; I loved how he threw those hands.

Also so hilarious that Pierre started off the book praising Napoleon to the point where he alienates himself from Russian high society but then later on he literally makes the “logical” conclusion that he needs to assassinate him because God chose him to do so apparently. That sequence of him just tweaking out and maniacally overanalyzing the Bible to justify why he needs to kill Napoleon immediately was peak. He’s insane and I cannot help but stan.

Natasha

When I first met the iconic Natasha I was a bit surprised she starts off as practically a child in the book because I knew her so well as the charming woman that Audrey Hepburn played in the 1956 adaptation. Despite being a child when the story starts, Tolstoy made sure you knew she was first and foremost a horny teenager, which was honestly so real of her. I was both amused and a little uncomfortable with how sexual Natasha was at all times. The “love scenes” between Natasha and Boris, as well as Sonya and Nikolay, were uncomfortable to read for me. 

Natasha is a favorite character for many, which I can understand. She was easily the most charismatic and enchanting character, especially when she was happy and doing her utmost to be the center of attention: “She was at the very peak of happiness, when a person is transformed into someone completely good and kind, and rejects the slightest possibility of evil, misery, and grief.” Her more contemplative, sensitive side was stunning too. I really love the conversation when Natasha says, “‘Do you ever get the feeling . . . that nothing’s ever going to happen to you again, nothing at all, and anything good is in the past? And you don’t feel bored exactly, but very, very sad?’” and her brother responds, “‘I’ll say! It’s happened to me. Everything’s fine, everyone’s happy, and suddenly you get this feeling of being fed up with everything, and realizing everybody’s going to die.’” How perfectly Tolstoy captures the feeling of restlessness and depression that comes with the humdrum of life! 

Yet, Natasha’s character was most relatable and tender to me when she was painfully pining away for that one year for Andrey. Her brief period of happiness slowly turning into mounting dread, anxiety, and doubt for whether or not she really loved him was splendidly done. Tolstoy affords her a lot of vulnerability and very authentic introspection: “She kept worrying about no one ever being able to understand everything that she understood, everything deep inside her.” Unlike her childhood dalliance with Boris (AKA Mr. Irrelevant), this was the first time she had been in love, and Tolstoy masterfully illustrated the struggles of budding female sexuality clashing with social propriety and courtship conventions. You could feel the potent frustration growing inside her that entire time Natasha was lovesick and helpless to do anything about it. As a woman, she can only wait for letters that gave her no answers or updates to a war she wasn’t allowed to understand. She had this burning passion within her and desperately wanted an outlet to express her love, but Andrey and everyone else (even her own family) cruelly kept her away from it because nobody imagined she as a young girl could feel that strongly, or suffer that deeply. Natasha’s problem really resonated with me as someone who’s had to spend a lot of time away from the people I most care about: “She felt sorry for herself, sorry that all this time was being wasted, passing by uselessly, no good to anyone, while she felt so eager to love and be loved.” I know what it’s like to just have so much love to give and have it amount to nothing. That’s why I wasn’t even that mad at her when she recklessly cancelled her engagement to get with fuckboi Anatole. She had spent months in a suffocating limbo of horniness and yearning so of course it made sense that she’d latch onto the first handsome guy who paid attention to her, even though anyone with a brain could see that Anatole is a rat. Whatever. She’s just a girl!

Natasha’s character development after the Anatole incident was also so brilliant, especially after she reunites with Andrey during the French invasion and nurses him on his deathbed. When he passes away, Tolstoy’s description of her raw grief in the aftermath was breathtaking (pun intended): “She was looking out towards the place in the other side of life where she knew he had gone to. And that other side of life, which she had never given a thought to in days gone by because it had always seemed so remote and unbelievable, was now closer, more natural to her and more understandable than this side of life, where there was nothing but emptiness and desolation or pain and humiliation.” The regret she feels when she says, “If I had told him what I was thinking about I would have said, ‘Even if he stayed like that, dying, dying, dying away before my eyes, I’d have been much happier than I am now.’ Now I have nothing . . . nobody . . . Did he know? No, he didn’t, and he never will. And now it will never, never be possible to put things right” felt so much more real and genuine than Andrey’s so-called remorse over never truly appreciating his dead wife while alive. Andrey wishes he was as deep as Natasha is. I was almost sick with jealousy when I read the line, “You must know that without you there is nothing left in my life, and suffering with you is the greatest possible happiness” because, girl, I know you were the one who screwed up the engagement and were disloyal, but he does not deserve you, get back up.

Fluffy Epilogue Straight Out of AO3

“I would never have believed it, never,’ she murmured to herself, ‘that anyone could be as happy as this.’ Her face glowed with a happy smile, but at the same moment she gave a sigh, and a gentle sadness showed in the depths of her eyes. It was as if there was a different kind of happiness, not like the happiness she was feeling here and now, a form of happiness beyond human experience, and it had come to her in an involuntary memory just at that moment.”

Really happy for Tolstoy that he gave himself an extra >200ish pages to wrap up everything in the same tooth-rotting, happy manner that fanfic writers on AO3 do. The entire first part of the epilogue was so shamelessly self-indulgent and gushy that it made the whole book worth it, no question. Seeing Natasha and Pierre’s married life, as well as learning how much becoming a wife, mother, and mistress of the house has changed Natasha for the better was truly a treat to read. It didn’t even feel like a forced “angel of the house” situation, which would’ve been annoying, because it genuinely made sense that Natasha made that transformation, and Tolstoy did point out that, even though she isn’t as “beautiful” as she was in her youth, she is definitely so much more vibrant and happier, which is what matters. I smiled so wide when Natasha cried out in joy and ran up to embrace Pierre after his long trip, only to do a complete 180 and start scolding him for being away for so long. Her nagging was spot-on and perfect. I loved the scenes where they were just chatting about everyday things, their children, the people they knew, gossip, etc. Tolstoy really depicted their love and marriage so beautifully: “You talk about what it’s like when we’re apart, but you wouldn’t believe what I feel for you when we’re back together again.” Even though I spent the majority of W&P uninterested in their love story, I realized by the epilogue’s conclusion that I adore this couple together and I am happy they are happy. Their love is based on mutual friendship and admiration.

I wish I could say the same for Princess Marya and Nikolay. My best girl ended up with a bare minimum man with anger issues who didn’t even like the nephew she dedicated so much of her life and energy raising all on her own. Plus, even though the epilogue was sweet, I couldn't help but feel utterly terrible for Sonya. I feel like she got one of the shittiest deals throughout the entire book, with Nikolay promising her, “I do love you. I think I love you more than anyone in the world . . . I’ve been in love thousands of times, and I shall be again and again, though I could never feel the same kind of warmth and trust and love that I do towards you” in the beginning, only to grow irritable and tired of her because she’s “too perfect”; then, after years of cheating on her with prostitutes while he was off at war, he marries someone else and she’s forced to live with them as a “sterile flower.” Even fouler that Sonya was the name of Tolstoy’s actual wife. For shame, Leo.

[kkulbeolyeonghwa]

End-of-the-year review!

The biggest achievement of this year was getting into my dream university. Here's how I did with my self studies.

AINU This was very fun and I am OBSESSED with the language. I filled up my 64-page notebook in under a year. I can speak pretty fluently already! Will totally be continuing to study this language next year!

KOREAN Korean was on maintenance mode for most of the year. I have been forcing myself to read and listen more and of course keep watching content in the language.

NORTH SÁMI My new focus for the year, I study this for university. I got great marks for my first course and I feel like I am progressing fast. There will be a small break where I can't take it at school again so I need to make sure I don't forget anything!

JAPANESE I have been studying this language a bit more than Korean for the first time. I feel like I still need to study a lot but my reading skills have been improving a lot this year!

MANDARIN & CANTONESE I have been consuming content in both languages over the year and have become obsessed with Cantonese cooking shows. I can understand a lot, but I cannot speak at all in either language

KARELIAN I have been reading content and trying to finally learn some grammar. Waiting to enroll in a course in this language some day. I understand the language perfectly because I grew up hearing it, just can't speak it!

OKINAWAN I have neglected this language a bit. I got about 5 pages of notes written down this year. Next year I hope to focus on the conjugations of words more

DUTCH I can understand text very well due to my existing Swedish knowledge but cannot understand speech well. Maybe I need to focus on that next year.

SWEDISH I moved to an area where this language is spoken more so I have naturally started picking up more words. I can speak the language well already but now I know what words the locals use for stuff, it's super interesting

YUKAGHIR? I have started picking up words from all the Yukaghir music I listen to. I wasn't even going to learn the language. Please I don't want to fall down another language rabbit hole and be obsessed with a random language

Other: I want to learn another Uralic language, maybe Nenets or Nganasan! I can learn those through my university at some point. I would also like to learn a language like Spanish or Russian for fun but I think I don't have enough time for that. I also need to find a job... Oh right and I can speak a bit more toki pona and have been working on my conlangs too.

[tiredoftime]

Language Resources I've been using (late 2024)

I've been in a slump (aka mental breakdown) for a bit now, but I'm starting to get back into language learning bit by bit. For context, in order of priority, I'm learning Spanish (C1), Russian (B1), French (B1/2), Japanese (N4/3) and Italian (B1/2), and mainly just immersing and using Anki for vocab reviews. I also am lucky enough to be allowed to listen to podcasts or whatever at work, which I sometimes do, but not often enough tbh.

First, I want to highlight this video by Iclal, which sort of got me back into my studies. Probably the most inspirational video I've watched in a while, especially because it's not about starting new languages, but about getting to advanced levels in the languages you're already learning, which is my main goal. I don't plan on taking any C1/2 exams anytime soon, but the idea has been planted in the back of my mind.

My "routine" is pretty simple. Make sure I review my sentence cards everyday, and add new cards when I feel like it or when I run out. I just make new cards from whatever resource I feel like on that day.

Language Transfer

I actually used this to refresh my Italian grammar, listening at work when things were quiet. Most of it was stuff I already knew, but it was probably good for me to actually re-learn how to form a sentence in Italian, even if the sentences were pretty basic. I might also check out the Spanish course, as a refresher, but unfortunately, the French course wasn't for me - the instructor has a really bad French accent that just kept grating on me.

YouTube Vlogs / Podcasts

All I do is watch the videos and make an Anki sentence card when I don't know a word, making sure I understand the whole sentence. I have more channels in my lineup for when I exhaust/get bored of the ones below

Piece of French - I just go through her videos chronologically. Probably a little below my level if I'm being honest, but my main focus is vocab, which this resource helps a lot with. She speaks a little slow for me, but other than that, she speaks very naturally, so I don't feel like I'm being talked down to.

Italian with Lucrezia - Right now, I'm just going through her vlogs or "chattier" videos. Maybe I'll use her grammar vids to brush up on grammar later, but I like the chill pace of following her around Rome and picking up new words as I do.

Russian Progress - Okay, my Russian is pretty weak, so going through one of his podcast episodes is a multi-hour commitment (especially the interviews with other native speakers), but it's worth it to finally understand a full episode. I just use the episodes in this playlist, but I might go through some other eps once I finish this.

Easy Languages - I study these videos when I'm feeling lazier, because the videos are shorter and sometimes pretty simple in topic. I still learn more casual language from them though, something which I'm lacking in basically all of my languages. I don't watch any of the "Super Easy" videos though.

Percy Jackson and Heroes of Olympus

The autism special interest hit me in full force, so I started re-listening to the audio books (in English :/) at work. Then I thought, I'm enjoying this so much, why not bring that enjoyment to my language studies? So I started reading 4 of the books in 4 languages.

Russian -The Lightning Thief : The PJO book I'm most familiar with plot-wise, so I thought I'd read it in my weakest language.

Italian - Sea of Monsters : Tbh I kind of just wanted to read Titan's Curse (yes bc of Nico) in Italian, but I also wanted to go at least semi in order, so at least I know the next book I can get to is TC.

Spanish - The Lost Hero : Kind of embarrassing to admit, but when I was 14, I read TLH, loved Leo's character, and it genuinely made me want to get my Spanish grade up, so I studied a lot of Spanish. That's why I picked TLH for Spanish haha.

French - Son of Neptune : I wanted to do two PJO, two HoO books at the same time, which sort of left French with SoN by default (since I couldn't get my hands on a Japanese translation of any Riordan books :/). Also, apparently Hazel speaks a bit of Louisiana French, and Frank a bit of Quebec French, so it's sort of on brand?? (although I'm learning France-French, bc heritage language lol)

I'm genuinely considering saving up money to get the audio books in my target languages to listen to at work as a form of revision, and for my own enjoyment haha. My current plan is to cycle through the books, so eventually (in theory), I will have read all ten books of the two series in four languages. I also want to do this with Harry Potter one day, Japanese included.

TV and Movies

I actually don't watch much TV, but I want to get back into it, because it's amazingly helpful for my studies, and is why my Japanese used to be at quite a high level (before I took a long break for uni and forgot a lot of it).

Лето (Summer), 2018 - A film about Soviet rock music. Picked it up because it was mentioned in the YT vid by Iclal I linked at the top of this post. Also I love Kino and Viktor Tsoi so it was a natural choice. I just study about 10-20 minutes of the film at a time, and then I'll probably re-watch it when I'm done. The whole thing is available on YT, and I found an extension that lets me add the subs in manually.

ダンジョン飯 (Dungeon Meshi) - Way above my level, but I'll watch basically anything that has good but subtle autism rep (even if unintentional), and I've heard good things about this show in that regard. I'm still on the first episode right now, but I basically do the same as above, study about 5-10 minutes at a time.

Cure Dolly Japanese Structure

Because my Japanese is so rusty, I keep running into that problem where I know all the words in a sentence, but have a hard time parsing the meaning. So, I thought I'd review the resource that taught me the vast majority of my Japanese grammar, making "Structure flashcards" for anything that's hazy in my mind. This helped me where even Tae Kim and Imabi couldn't (though I might go back to them once I've exhausted Cure Dolly, to see if there's any gaps in my knowledge).

逆転裁判 - Ace Attorney

Again, autism special interest is hitting full force as a coping mechanism, but at least it gives me something to do for my Japanese. I have all 6 main games, plus the 2 Investigations games on Steam, so now it's just a matter of persevering. I'm currently about 1h30mins into this video, which basically spoon feeds you the vocab and grammar of the first case, which facilitates my flashcard making and understanding. After I finish this, I'm gonna go in the old fashioned way, with just my game and a dictionary. I might get around to playing the main six games in French one day, but for now, I'm focusing on getting through the series in Japanese.

[pompadourpink]

Hello mothership, hny! I was wondering if you had any tips as for keeping resolutions and making good progress instead of getting discouraged after 3wks.. thanks!

Hello dear,

I suppose I do! Turning a bad habit into a good habit is very hard and it is preferable to create something new as a replacement instead. I also believe that we tend to be very mean to ourselves when it's not necessary and actually counter-productive: if tough love was the way, it would have worked a long time ago!

(I posted this on IG on Monday, after my drawing session, the first in, I'm afraid, about twenty years. It's been itching, all this time, and here I am, finally.)

You'll be more likely to reach your goals if you phrase them positively. It's not "stop eating sugar you fat piece of crap", it's "eat more vegetables so you can feel better, sleep better, get fewer headaches, and stop constantly feeling guilty".

Today is the 5th of January, and here's my Notion page:

I still have to read a bit of Mrs Dalloway, and I'll be done.

At the end of the day, we can all do some version of this. We all can find ten minutes to follow a yoga video in the evening, half an hour a week to learn something, an hour to meal prep on Sunday while watching a movie, and a book to read on our way to and back from work - if that's what we want to do.

I think it's very important to find out what it is that you really want. You don't have to read Mrs Dalloway because I mentioned it. You don't have to learn Russian because it's fancy to know Tolstoy. You don't have to lose weight to look like a baddie. If you've been trying to do something for a while and never got started, it is likely that you don't really want to do it. You also don't have to take up new things constantly.

Maybe you just want to get better at baking. Maybe you can bake something new every week, or make something extravagant for someone's birthday, or get yourself some fancy tool every month so you can get better at it, or start a business, find a baking class, get a buddy to compete with, etc.

Focus on what you love and what makes you happy. Don't be the person who looks back when they are on their deathbed and realises they've only done what others expected of them, so they could be accepted - and it didn't even work.

Love,

Mum

(PS: the bath thing on Notion is skincare, pls have mercy, I do shower.)

[rheawritessometimes]

A Not-So-Bad Deal

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Babysitting Childe has its ups and downs. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Swearing, Injury, Physical Intimacy, Mild Spice, PDA, Not Beta Read, Barely Proof Read.

{ Notes } Reader is implied to have commitment issues. Accidental flirting, because intentional flirting is awkward and hard. Didn't explicitly state what each breakfast item was, but they're based on popular Russian breakfast foods. Ahah, not me setting myself up for yet another part?? Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,955

The sentiment of spending Childe's recovery with him being a simple endeavor was quickly thrown into the garbage when you were awakened before the sun had even begun to peek over the horizon to the sound of what you were sure was a break-in. Rolling out of the bed with your sword materializing in your hand was done entirely on instinct, you were still too groggy to have any proper thought. Stealthily exiting the room, you made your way to the source of the noise, the kitchen.

Needless to say, you were more than annoyed to find that the 'break in' was actually a familiar Harbinger making breakfast, tearing apart the kitchen in the process. Your sword dematerialized as you brought a hand up to massage your temples to ward off a headache. Childe was humming cheerily in the middle of the mess of ingredients and cookware, some of which you were certain had not been necessary to whatever it was he was making. There was no way that many bowls were necessary for any recipe.

The Snezhnayan flashed a bright grin when he saw you, but the gesture did nothing to ease the scowl that had settled onto your features. That didn't seem to dampen his mood in the least, he merrily continued preparing what appeared to be enough food to feed a lot more people than were currently occupying his apartment. Was he expecting a lot of company this morning?

"I thought we made a deal that involved you resting and not cooking enough to feed a small army at ass in the morning," you remarked, the sarcasm laid on thick enough to be dripping from each word. Much to your frustration, this only made him laugh as he turned the stove on.

"Well, I usually wake up early but this morning I had nothing to do since someone broke my bones. So, I decided to make a nice breakfast for my guest to enjoy with me," he responded with faux innocence, though there was laughter in his voice that easily gave him away. His words were still effective in making you feel a little guilty, so you wordlessly brought the dishes you were fairly certain he was done with to the sink and began washing them.

The two of you fell into a comfortable quiet after that, you were busy cleaning a mountain of dishes and Childe's focus was on frying a few eggs and cutting up a bowl of strawberries. You were mindful to stay out of the way as Childe cooked and he made an effort to set the cookware he was finished with beside the sink for you. The rhythm you two had quickly settled into felt startlingly domestic, something you reminded yourself not to like, and certainly not to get used to.

"Maybe I did make a little too much," the Harbinger muses somewhat sheepishly as he looks at the table he had just finished setting. It was without a doubt too much food for only two people, the table at risk of collapsing under the weight of it all. You could only nod in agreement.

"Your guard might appreciate a plate," you offered, as though one more person would make much of a difference against the mountain of food. You had to admit, everything did look delicious. The table was laid out with fried eggs, some porridge, a few sandwiches with sausage on them, what appeared to you to be some kind of crêpes, pancakes of some sort, the bowl of cut strawberries, and a kettle of tea. It would be no trouble finding people willing to eat the excess food.

"I suppose my subordinates deserve a nice breakfast," the redhead sighs dramatically, "They're lucky they have such a nice boss."

"Mhm, and if you ever fall out with the Fatui you could certainly find a job as a cook," you reply after sampling a forkful of his work. Living in Liyue had you more accustomed to chopsticks, but it was evident after going through Childe's kitchen that he did not own a pair. As a witness to his attempts at using them, you weren't very surprised by this finding. A fork was easy enough to figure out, anyway.

"I'm glad you like it," the redhead responds with a grin, quickly busying himself with his own plate. As he eats, he begins to talk about having similar breakfasts with his family in Snezhnaya. This turns into him recounting learning how to make these dishes with his mother and you quietly listen along, making the occasional comment and smiling fondly at his memories and the way he became more animated as he spoke about his family.

The sun had emerged by the time each of you had eaten what you could, and you cleared the plates while Childe ordered his guard to distribute the remaining food to his subordinates stationed in Liyue. You were halfway through cleaning the dishes when the Snezhnayan waltzed into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He contented himself with watching, not bothering to even offer his assistance.

"I was thinking we should do something. I've been cooped up for too long. Maybe a casual hike up Mt. Aozang?" he suggested, causing you to pause in your ministrations and glance back at him with a raised brow. No hike up Mt. Aozang would be a casual one considering the terrain and potential enemies of the area.

"It's been less than a full day," you pointed out, "And, hm, what was it? Oh yeah, and you have a few broken ribs."

"What are a few broken ribs to a Fatui Harbinger?"

"It's a no, Childe," you firmly insisted, causing him to groan and mumble about you being a 'spoil sport'. It was easy enough to ignore him as you finished up with your small chore.

"I'm using your shower," you informed him once you turned away from the sink. He only hummed in response, still pouting against the counter. It was all you could do to not roll your eyes at his childish behavior.

"What am I even supposed to do for six weeks if I can't go out and fight things?" he whined, and this time you did roll your eyes.

"Well, maybe you can still improve your fighting," you mused, "Have you ever tried working on your strategy? Because that could definitely use some improvement."

The Harbinger huffed indignantly at your words, taking the mature route and sticking his tongue out at you as you left the kitchen to take a shower. He could pout to himself in the kitchen while you had a relaxing shower.

The apartment's bathroom was on the smaller side, but it was still easily workable and didn't feel at all cramped. You had brought with you your own toiletries, but that didn't stop you from poking around Childe's well-organized things out of curiosity. There wasn't anything of particular interest so you decided to just get cleaned up and figure out what to do for the day.

Leaving the bathroom wrapped in a towel and feeling refreshed, you made your way to the guest room to pull out something to wear for the day. You decided on something comfortable, it didn't seem like you'd be going out today anyways and if you did you could always change into something more suitable. After getting dressed and taking care of a few more things, you left the guest room in search of Childe.

It was a simple task finding the Harbinger, he was seated at the table flipping through the pages of a book. You were more than surprised to see it was a book on battle strategy, although you noted it was one focused on group tactics to be used in war organization. You supposed it shouldn't have been any great shock to find he had such books, considering his position as a Fatui Harbinger who was known for his knack for combat. But to actually find him taking your advice was not something you had expected.

"Finally done with your shower?" Childe asked, looking up from his reading, "Good, you were stinky."

His tone made it clear he was joking, and you gasped in mock offense. You both laughed at this, his cerulean eyes shining with amusement. You weren't sure you'd ever seen eyes more beautiful than his.

"Anyways, I was thinking we should go for a walk around the harbor and have a late lunch a Wanmin. Then we can just wander looking for stuff to do, or we could go out to that one boat. Or maybe Zhongli will be at the market and invite us for tea," Childe suggested, setting the book down on the table. You raised your brows at his 'plan'.

"It's been a long time since I've had any time off and I don't know what to do," he justified, crossing his arms over his chest. You only shook your head, smiling softly at his pout.

"Alright, I wouldn't mind a walk around the harbor, at least. Lunch at Wanmin sounds good too. We'll see what happens afterward," you conceded, watching his expression immediately brighten. Just a walk shouldn't be too strenuous, so you weren't terribly worried about his bones. Plus, you wouldn't be able to keep him in bed all day and this was a much better alternative to him going out and finding a fight.

"Let me just get changed into something more presentable."

It wasn't long before you were walking along the docks of the harbor with Childe. You were hand in hand with him, the redhead had grabbed your hand early on, intertwining your fingers with a cheeky grin. You didn't resist when he did this, comfortable with showing the small amount of affection even in public.

Looking out across the calm waters of the harbor, you couldn't help but think it matched the blue of the Harbinger's eyes. While he had an excellent poker face when necessary, Childe's eyes were often very expressive, allowing an easy read of his mood at a glance. Smiling fondly at the thought, you squeezed his hand gently before moving on.

The rest of the day progressed just as pleasantly, both you and Childe enjoying the sights of Liyue before getting lunch at Wanmin as he'd planned. After eating, you browsed the various stalls of Liyue's busy market, admiring the vast array of goods on display.

As the Snezhnayan had earlier predicted, you did meet Zhongli at the market and he did invite you two for tea. You wondered if he had planned it with Childe, but the polite man seemed entirely surprised to have encountered the both of you.

Tea with Zhongli turned out to be quite a lengthy endeavor, and you were rather exhausted by the end of it. He had recounted the history of Liyue well into the evening, in a way that reminded you of a professor during a lecture. It was Childe who was finally able to excuse the both of you, after several hours of education on the historic importance of Silk Flowers.

"Well, I did make a promise that I would rest, so I'm afraid we must be going."

"Ah, yes. It is always good to keep your promises," Zhongli agreed sagely, his words carrying a strange gravity. With polite goodbyes, you left with Childe to return to his apartment. The walk back was through darkness thanks to the hour, but the streets of Liyue were lit and there was still plenty of activity.

It was no surprise that both you and Childe were ready for bed by the time you made it through the door. He mumbled out a mostly unintelligible apology for how long tea with Zhongli had lasted before kissing the top of your forehead and disappearing into his room.

You stood in the hallways shocked by the affectionate gesture for a few seconds before deciding it would be best to just go to bed and forget about it. Surely the action was purely the result of exhaustion.

This time when you woke up the sun had already risen. Silently, you thanked Morax for not having to wake up to Childe's noisy breakfast-making. Even if his cooking was really good, without sleep you'd eventually become rather cranky, to put it lightly.

Exiting the spare bedroom, you found the Harbinger sprawled out on the couch looking through a stack of papers. You assumed it was Fatui business, something which you wanted nothing to do with at the moment. Maybe at another time, you would be interested in their secrets, but as of right now, they weren't really your problem.

"How are you feeling? In any pain?" you asked casually, making your way to the kitchen to retrieve some ice. Regardless of his answer, it was still advised to ice his side regularly.

"Mm, I'm fine. Took some of the medication earlier," he replied, most of his focus still on the documents in his hands. You briefly wondered how often it was that the Eleventh Harbinger did paperwork as opposed to fieldwork. You would have assumed he had a secretary or something for this kind of thing, though you supposed it made some sense for him to do it if he wasn't out in the field.

Leaving the kitchen with another makeshift icepack, you noticed he had set the papers down on the coffee table and draped an arm over his eyes. You raised a brow at this but didn't say anything as you placed the icepack on his side and sat on the couch where there was space beside his legs.

"I don't think I can last six weeks like this. I'm already dying of boredom," he confessed, raising his arm to see your response.

"I'm not sure I can last six weeks either," you replied snarkily. It seemed lost on him as he nodded in agreement before furrowing his brows and scowling at you. Realization.

"Hey, wait! What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, sitting up quickly and wincing at the resulting pain. You picked up the icepack that had slid down and pressed it against his side until one of his hands came up to hold it in place.

"It means I think sometimes you're a bit much," you laughed in response, ruffling his hair and causing his scowl to deepen. He swatted your hand away from his hair using his free hand, and you only smiled in amusement.

"I'll have you know I'm a fucking delight and you adore me," he asserted, staring you dead in the eyes with a challenging look. Now that he was closer, your eyes were drawn to the light smattering of freckles that crossed his nose and dusted both cheeks. From a distance, they weren't really visible, but now you could clearly see them.

"Mhm," you agreed absently, bringing a hand up to lightly cradle his jaw, swiping your thumb slowly across his cheek. It was only when he started leaning in that it dawned on you exactly what you were doing and how intimate it seemed. By the time his lips were pressed against yours, heat had risen to your cheeks and you were certain your face was a brilliant shade of scarlet. Luckily his eyes were closed so he couldn't see you in such a state, but you had a feeling he was able to feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Despite your flirtations having been unintentional, you didn't push Childe away. Instead, you wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders and fell into the slow rhythm he had set. You heard the soft thump of something being tossed onto the coffee table, but you were distracted from that when his hands found your sides and he pulled you into his lap.

A soft breath left you when his lips moved down to your neck to place gentle kisses there. The featherlight touch had goosebumps raising across your skin and you were almost embarrassed by your body's reactions.

"Alright, maybe six weeks won't be too bad," Childe murmured against your neck and you could feel his smile. It made your heart flutter, you weren't sure you liked that.

"Oh, what made you change your mind?" you asked innocently, a hint of laughter in your voice.

"Mm, I wonder." His lips began trailing back up your neck and over your jaw until he sealed them over yours again. The drag of his tongue across your bottom lip had you opening your mouth for him without a thought. In response, he pulled you closer to him, one hand reaching up to tangle in your hair.

When he finally pulled away, he smirked at your flushed appearance and the fact you were a bit breathless. The way he looked at you made butterflies flutter in your stomach and when his ocean eyes dropped to gaze at your lips you felt the overwhelming urge to flee.

"I need to go. I want to get you some proper icepacks from Baizhu and I should probably do some grocery shopping for you," you blurted, standing up. His arms fell easily away from you, but he looked up at you with a surprised and what you thought might be a slightly hurt expression.

"Um, okay," was all he could say as you retreated to the guest room to get dressed in something more appropriate for going out in public. Changing didn't take very long and you made sure to bring Mora along as you fled the apartment with barely so much as a 'goodbye'. Childe was still sitting stunned on the couch as you breezed out the door.

Running away was always a good way to deal with your problems.

[cybernaght]

The Rebel/叛逆者: A Review of Sorts

After being only semi-invested in the Rebel, I ended up getting so into it in the final weeks of its release, I’ve shelled out on IQIYI premium just to get the final couple of episodes a few days earlier.

That’s right kids, it’s a Review of Sorts. Unfortunately, I could not find a translation of the novella the drama is based on, so will be looking at it as a separate entity. 

Most of this post is spoiler-free, however I have dedicated a few paragraphs at the end of it to discussing the final episode, as there are a few specific things about it I wanted to mention. There is a clear spoiler warning before that part.

If you don’t want to risk it, TL;DR version of this review goes something like this: Rebel is very decent, and positively one of the best things that I have seen to come out of China since I’ve jumped into that particular rabbit hole. It’s pretty well written, it’s very beautifully dressed and shot, and the cast is killing it. I thought it dropped the ball a little in post production, and I did not always love the pacing. Other than that, it’s incredibly decent, and well worth watching, unless communist propaganda really irks you, in which case stay very well away. 

I have been having many conversations with @supernovasimplicity​ all the way through watching this drama, so there are likely to be some thoughts here that are influenced by those. 

The story centers around Lin Nansheng, a struggling servicemen in the Guomingdang party. He has a great analytical mind, and absolutely no emotional capacity for his job. He has trouble handling violence, he is impulsive, he cannot speak to his superiors without bursting into tears, and has nothing even remotely resembling a poker face. And that is what makes this drama as enjoyable as it is. 

I don’t think Lin Nansheng’s journey would have been nearly as exciting had he started it from a place of competence. He botches up everything he touches because his big brain switches off the moment his emotions kick in. And so, when you see him grow in confidence, learn to control himself, learn to fake his smiles and compliments, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. It also makes Lin Nansheng very likeable as a character for reasons other than Zhu Yilong’s ability to look like a bush baby.

It did take me a while to feel fully engaged with his performance - not because there is anything lacking in it, but just because it’s hard to be truly surprised by his choices after the exposure I have given myself to his work. That said, at about a half-way point I got charmed by him anyway, and there were quite a few scenes that were truly mesmerising. There were scenes where he broke out of the familiar mould of big unguarded eyes and fluttering wet eyelashes, and tried something that was not pretty: every time to a great success. I am hoping to see more of that in his future work. 

I really wanted to like the female lead, Zhu Yizhen, but unfortunately both the way she was written and the way she was performed by Tong Yao left me somewhat cold. It did not help of course that the screenplay ended up sidelining her at every turn, leaving her with very little personal agency. She was set up so interestingly, but in the end her sole purpose became being someone for Lin Nansheng to pine over. It is particularly curious from a perspective of meta storytelling: seeing how this is all centered around superiority of communism, which as a whole was, arguably, ahead of its time in the matters of binary gender equality.

The ensemble cast of the drama is stunning. Wang Yang came very close to  stealing the show at several points as Chen Moqun, somehow managing to make his rather unlikeable character interesting. I can say the same thing about Zhu Zhu who absolutely shined as Lin Xinjie, showing an incredible range and imagination in her performance.

The overarching story of the show is engaging, with some incredibly suspenseful elements; every narrative arc including a nice progression through it. As spy thrillers go, it was fairly well plotted. You could if you go looking for a few things that did not pay off in a satisfying way (notably, the Chekhov’s cyanide capsule), but you overall the story really was well told for the most of it. 

I did, however, feel like the pacing started to fall apart in the last quarter of the drama. Last episode in particular really did feel rushed, not just due to its pace, but also in a way it failed to pay off the final mission in any visible way. There will be more on that in the spoiler section of this post.

Important to note that The Rebel is a show made in Communist China in the year 2021. It does not ideologically side-step from the path that was laid out for it by that fact. Which is to say, it is, undeniably, filled with propaganda. Communists are the good guys, and if you think a good guy (or gal) is not a communist, they probably secretly are. With one exception of a friendly character who is not a communist, and whose fate we actually never find out. Curious, that. 

The Rebel is not a kind of a show where censorship-appeasing scenes are shoehorned in. It’s a kind of a show in which the main theme is Sacrifice For the Party.

Aside from the being the moral vector of the show, Mao’s gentle teachings explicitly help get Ling Nansheng out of prolonged depression following his injury, and almost annoyingly, this sat incredibly well with the character, as he was written. Lin Nansheng is conceived as this naive idealist who wants to be on the front line, who needs validation and support of others. His - and I can’t believe I’m saying this - his being disillusioned in his beliefs and choosing to join a party which includes people whom he likes and trusts makes sense. Him finding this one thing that gives him hope and letting it propel him into gaining confidence and competence makes sense. 

In many ways, the Rebel is a story of Lin Nansheng’s failure to become an antagonist within the world of the drama.

I have honestly spent this past couple of weeks pondering whether being well written makes political propaganda better or worse, whether the subtlety of it makes it more or less palatable, whether it’s enough, as a viewer, to be aware of it to shrug it off. Ultimately, this is not something I could or should make moral judgements on, but I do believe that it’s possible to acknowledge the fact that propaganda exists in the drama, and still appreciate it for a good piece of television that it is. 

That said, I am very well aware that me being kind of okay with it stems entirely from my own removal from the culture this is made in, and I am, perhaps, lucky to even have a choice as to whether I want to engage with a product which is, undoubtably, here to dress political ideology in fancy clothes.

I have, on the other hand, also seen many things in Russian media of the “Annexation of Crimea is Good Actually” variety and those make me feel very unwell, so feeling somewhat at ease with blatant political propaganda in Chinese media makes me the biggest hypocrite.

But, I digress.

Before we go into some specific plot-related things, I would like to mention that the Rebel has this weird dichotomy in which the production is sublime, and the post-production… not so much. The show very well shot. Every element of it sits perfectly together, not a single prop out of place, not a single extra underdressed, not a page of script not put to good use. It’s lit to perfection. It’s scored beautifully. So much of this show is just stunning.

And then… there is post-production. 

This is not even about bad CGI (and the CGI is, indeed, bad), it’s just that most of post-production as a whole feels rushed.

Starting with surprisingly imperfect editing, which at times just fails to make the scene flow together. The final line of dialogue would be spoken within a scene, and it would fade to black instantly without a single breath to indicate a full stop. A montage sequence would be created, but every shot within it condensed to a second, making it feel incredibly fast-paced when the effect should be the opposite. There would be a cut away from a speaking character and to the same speaking character from a slightly different angle, making it dynamic without any reason to do so. There are a couple of truly startling jump-cuts.

I did not speed this gif up. This is part of a romantic montage, edited like it’s a goddamn action sequence.

And of course dear old friend slowing down footage shot at 24FPS. Please don’t do this. You think no one notices - but we do.

There are other tell-tale signs of production rushing to the finish line: occasional, but very noticeable ADR glitches, very sloppy job done at sound mixing, which contribute to parts of the show feeling ever so slightly off.

It’s not unforgivable, but it does make me wish the same amount of care and efforts that went into shooting this drama would also go into it after it was all in the can. 

Oh, and just because if you know me you know I have a professional fixation on fights, and I am happy to say most action scenes are toe-curlingly delightful. Hot damn those fights are good. I am absolutely in love with the shot below, for example. Placing an actor behind a piece of set so he can exchange places with the stunt double during a one shot is such an old trick, but the execution, timing and camerawork are just... flawless. This is what perfection looks like.

Now we got all that out of the way...

SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE BELOW

Here’s the thing. I wanted to love the ending and I found that I could not.

The final mission was presented as important, and honestly the scene in which Zhu Yizhen is sending the vital message out as Lin Nansheng holds his ground in hand to hand fight is incredibly dynamic. Party, this is due to the fight itself being incredibly well choreographed, yes, but it’s also where it sits within the narrative, how high the stakes are for everything surrounding it. 

But then, the tension all but bleeds out. The Important Message is sent, the fight is won, and we are treated to ten minutes of a very slow car chase, problem of which is not even its speed as much as its placing within the story. As in, by this point both of those operatives have lost their cover, and completed their Very Important Mission. It would be very sad if they died, but their survival does not technically contribute to their cause. Moreover, Zhu Yizhen getting mortally injured in order to protect Lin Nansheng as part of her mission read a little empty when the mission is technically over. 

While I personally found Lin Nansheng slow recuperation and his low key ending enjoyable, I think I would have preferred to have seen a more tangible pay-off to all the sacrifices made in the name of “bright communist future”, just a little more justification for every moment of death and despair we witnessed. I would have certainly at the very least preferred to see Wang Shi’an’s death on screen. Considering how many likeable characters martyred themselves on screen, denying us the death of the one antagonist just seemed cruel. 

I really did love the ambiguity of the final few scenes however, if we consider the children choir at the end a fantasy. The idea that Lin Nansheng will live out his life in this hope that Zhu Yizhen is still alive, imagining her just outside of his field of vision, his only joy being in this fantasy of her… now, that is incredibly strong. I equally like the idea of rest being promised to him at the end of his journey, and said rest being painful, and slow and unwelcome.

But it felt like as they chose not to to lean into the “sweet” part of the bitter-sweet tone of the ending and we’re unable not commit to the “bitter” part either, so it lands with a splat which is somewhat lacklustre. 

---

This concludes my thoughts on the Rebel. 

I am more or less out of Zhu Yilong’s filmography to watch, which is probably a good thing at this point. I have just emerged out of several back to back work projects - literally today - and will hopefully once more have time for things I grew to enjoy doing during the lockdown. 

Those things, if you have not guessed, include watching Chinese television and writing things about Chinese television. 

[theodora3022]

Solitude Madness

BSD Fyodor Dostoevsky x reader

Setting: Confinement can make people crazy. Before all of this happened you would never dreamt about submitting to an evil man like Fyodor. The demon does have his way of breaking down even the toughest minds.

Notes: This may or not relate to my quarantine and seasonal depression and my need for a cuddle session with my favourite rat man. There will be no torture in this since I am not familiar with writing graphic violence.

Word count: 1.1k(Sequal to a fic, but my muse kind of ditched)

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, self-indulgent garbage, implied abduction,mindbreak, mentions of surgery, general Yandere content

When was the last time you had seen the sun again? How long have you been trapped in this dark underground facility? 

You are well aware who can answer those questions, but you refused to ask him anything. After all, Fyodor is the one responsible for your present condition. 

You hate this, you never wanted this, being in this little cell against your will, just because you are the object of his affections? Has he ever heard of what love is?

True love is seeing your loved ones happy, whether they are with you or not. If they are happy, you should be content and guard their happiness. You were happily enjoying a normal life in the sun, but now this damned Russian terrorist had dragged you into eternal darkness, all in the name of love? He calls this selfish obsession, this bone-chilling possessiveness love? Just what made him this way?  “You are absolutely insane.” “Glad we are in agreeance, dear.” Those amused chuckles made you look away trembling, leaving another scar on your already scarred mind.

You are a nuisance, a distraction to Fyodor’s grand plans. He hates this feeling of you being out on your own, where anyone could just whisk you away as you are such a helpless little creature. Surveillance feed from hidden cameras failed to satiate his desires before long, Fyodor has to do something to make sure no one(else) hurts you.

You have been screaming and crying less whenever he comes into sight, Fyodor could consider that to be good progress. He fully understands that nobody likes to wake up in a strange place one morning and that loss of freedom. Why else do you think you have been getting away with punishments for yelling at him? The last person who dared to do so is no longer in the land of the living. But you are different, Fyodor is surprised to find himself willing to be patient with you, to tolerate your inconvenient behaviours. Which makes him wonder when this state of transition would pass, what would you be like when you finally accepted your place here. How long? A few months? A year?

Call him as many names, scream whatever sharp words as you like. One day you would understand you belong to your god, your master Fyodor. There is no need to force you to do anything, you will do them by your own “free will” soon enough.

You are particularly quiet today, no noises whatsoever when he brought you the meal. Just curling up against the wall, hugging your knees with a grim expression. 

Well, just as he expected. Long periods of isolation can do amazing things to one’s mind, he knows that all too well. This nearly effortless tactic is surprisingly effective.

That day begins like any other. He was about to put the food tray down and return to his work as usual, but this time he felt a little pull on his cape.

“Don’t leave...please-” Now, now. What do we have here? Are you clinging on to the edge of his cloak? Do you want him to give you some much-needed attention? Has his little mouse finally learned how to behave?

Fyodor might not have hurt you or starved you just yet, but countless days would go by silently, without anything to keep you occupied within these empty walls. No one to talk to, nothing to keep your mind off these horrific conditions, all you can do is sob in that corner like a miserable animal. What date is even today again? It was bearable at first, but as the days went by you had become quite desperate for attention, to the point you do not care who you got it from. The endless boredom scares you so, this horror of being alone scares you also. You had imagined all sorts of things following your abduction, such as torture, but you failed to account for what to do with this utter silence and isolation. It may not hurt physically, yet it feels much worse. 

And that is exactly what Fyodor wants you to perceive. Everything is going just according to his little plan. 

Why would he apply violence when he can do this? That is for brutes, never for someone intelligent like him. He would hate to cause you any physical harm, as he does not have a doctor on-site for treatment. When it comes to your mind, however, that is a completely different story. Your mind will shatter by itself, so Fyodor can build up an ideal darling with those broken pieces, and he rather not perform that troublesome procedure again.

That scared expression you made when he pretends to not hear you is just so endearing. Feeling your grip tightens, almost tearing his cape off his shoulders, Fyodor finally stopped. Letting out a sigh, he turns back to face your trembling form.

“Do you need something, my little mouse?” That smile, that vile smile dipped in venom, the only thing that could peak your interest in these empty walls.

You do, you need some company, any company will do.

“I…” Your remaining conscience screams in the corner of your brain, do not submit, he is the one to blame! But it was ignored, unfortunately. What is dignity again?

Your captor was shocked when you straight up jumped up and wrapped your arms around his slender shoulders. He did not expect you to be this...passionate. 

“Fyodor, please. Do not leave me here alone any longer. I will do as you say, I’ll do anything!” Gods, you really are doing this. Begging for this rat’s mercy like a pathetic dog. But you had passed the point of having dignity. His chest feels surprisingly warm, compared to his icy fingertips, and you buried your face on those fluffy decorative fur trimmings. Soft, you should really have done this sooner. You belong to him now, so why not exercise the rights you have instead of being a brat? 

This is perfect, the result is almost the same as what he expected. Your affectionate nature has only been a pleasant surprise, and Fyodor is surprised about your resilience. Now all he needs to do is just sit back and enjoy the fruits of his labour.

[ilovemyselfandiwannalive]

So I have decided to continue learning Russian language. It has been 5 years since I last attended classes and was so glad to finally drop it when I could but now I am regretting it.

I know the alphabet and I'd say I am pre-intermediate.

It will be hard work but if I focus on progressing little by little it will make my life so much easier once I am almost 30.

I still have time. Which is hard to realise when I am 22 and feeling like everyone around me has already achieved more and have better jobs.

Anyways, I will watch simple films in Russian and try and enjoy the process. And maybe put sticky notes on things around me?

The school would cost quite a bit and there isn't one that close to me even though I am in London. And I haven't got much time being a student and having a job already.

I want to find someone to practice with everyday. Or someone who's got the same goal.

[ibithesnail]

HELLO EVERYONE I JUST (21:54) LISTENED TO RUSSIAN WOMAN BY MANIZHA

okay first of all, gotta love the way Russia joined the "fuck you we have our own language and we're singing in it". i remember reblogging a post about it in the very beginning of the week and i wasn't expecting US to be there!!! (US as in capitalized us)

also i now get what was our primary school music teaher (rest in power) trying to say when she was telling us about how there's always something inherently melodic and russian in the melodies that were written by russian composers. this song also references some classic melody - *looks up* "Улетай на крыльях ветра" - which i supposed is recognizably russian. the ""russian vibe"" is obviously intentional, but i'm still glad i hear it since i'm no good at music analysis.

now we get to the part of the song that got me loving it: the lyrics. i, as a russian woman and, dare i say, a feminist, adore them. this is the most empowering shit i've ever heard. i know i'm not good with words (especially the english one lol), but trust me, i felt this in my heart and it was,,.,,.,.,.,,.,. overall, i stan.

and the way she mixes languages. god i love it. when i used genius lyrics to make sure i didn't miss a word, i saw that "ау" and i felt that confusion compressed in the split second that i had to experience it: does it read "ay" (ei) or "ау" (au)? and holy shit, the moment i read it as "ay" (ei) but it was actually "ау" (au) genuinely fucking broke me. like lately (fot the past school year) i've been hanging out in english-speaking internet communities, i've been proud of my progress in the language, i prefer to speak english when i can, but. when it comes to being together. when it comes to unity, to belonging, to identity, you may say, - that's the time i speak russian. i might be constantly unsure about my gender (which is, as i'm now thinking about it, kinda silly of me) and my sexuality, but a female russian artist on a competitive international stage always evokes the patriotism inside me. (how ironic is that? this word was derived from 'patro', and yet here we are.) that is probably the strongest feeling i have. like. ever. and while i prefer english when i'm chill, in a heartfelt moment i will speak english, i am russian, i am a woman, i am a russian woman, my broken family won't break me

after listening to it one more time, i've noticed:

пыщ sounds like sheeesh :)

UPD (22:30): OH MY GOD THIS GOT BETTER

firstly, i want to speak about the costumes. they aren't new, but i've missed them in the post above. the singer's jumpsuit is fucking royal, literal queen shit, i can feel it reinforce her message. i'm not so into the other costumes; i don't really understand nationality much apart from speaking the same language - the language you've learnt in your childhood and, quite frankly, haven't stopped learning ever since, the language sounds of which resonate with your heart, the words of which are the concepts themselves to you- sorry i'll go back to what i was speaking about... ah yes, i don't quite get why national costumes are as important to people as their language, but they are still amazing and fascinating and beautiful and stunning for representing the nations of our country.

secondly, there're some changes in the final version of the song, and boy oh boy do i love them. the moment they turned on the video of all these women on the big screen,.,.,,.,,... (i just hope manizha doesn't get eaten once she's back here for including more androgynous women lol) you get me, right? i mean, i'm just glad to be a part of something greater than me, aren't i?

and the ending was so powerful. it felt like a blade in my chest, that cry for every one of us to be strong, to be the change we want, to be ourselves-

in my heart no other song stands a chance. the vibe is simply weak.

tl;dr: this song is a POWER MOVE.

[stevesnailbat]

2 and 12 A, you pick who!

“you aren’t who I thought you were.” + “i can’t trust you anymore.”

summary: Steve doesn't want his girlfriend finding out about his dark secrets, but she does.

warnings: a little angsty

word count: 1.4K

She didn’t mean to eavesdrop on Steve, she really didn’t, it just happened. Waking up to an empty bed made her curious. The sheets next to her had been hastily thrown on top of her, like he’d gotten scared and ran away. She waited a few minutes in the bed, until she grew too curious. She made her way down the stairs, quieting her steps when she heard Steve’s voice and nobody else’s. He was on the phone and his voice was stricken with panic, sounding thick with fear and concern.

“I—I don’t know, Dustin. I know I should tell her, I know that! I know thinks something’s up—“ Steve rambled, cutting himself off as the boy on the other line spoke. “Of course something’s up, you of all people would know that! I don’t want to hurt her—yes, they’re back too. I can’t just give up our progress or drop everything to tell her just because I feel guilty for hiding it from her! You said that yourself—No, I just don’t know if I should tell her the truth or not.”

Her breath hitched in her throat as he spoke, knowing he was talking about her. As soon as she did took a breath, Steve went silent, hearing her from around the corner. His heart dropped to his chest at the thought of her hearing what he’d just said, but there wasn’t any coming back from it. He mumbled something to Dustin through the phone and put it back down on the receiver. She tried to stay silent, hoping he would just walk the other way, but knew it was unlikely. Steve rounded the corner to find her standing on the bottom stair, nearly frozen from shock.

“What the hell, Steve?” she hissed, eyes brimming with tears and voice bubbling with betrayal. 

“Y/N, I can explain—“ 

“Honestly, I don’t think I want you to explain! You did enough of that to Dustin on the phone, didn’t you?” she said spitefully, rolling her eyes as she jerked her arm from his touch when he reached for her. “You don’t know if you can tell me the truth or not? Then I can’t trust you anymore.”

“It’s not what you think it is, I promise. I’m—I’m not cheating on you or something like that.” he said, his voice sounding suspiciously hesitant. 

“Then what is it? Tell me!” she exclaimed, but he stayed silent, only staring at her with a guilty frown. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fuck this.”

She turned on her heels and headed up the stairs again, finding Steve’s room through teary eyes. He was following close behind her, mouth open as if he was trying to think of something to say the whole time. She didn’t turn around once to speak, and nearly slammed the bedroom door in his face when she got to his room. His hand caught the near miss of the wood against his face, continuing into his room as she reached for her clothes quickly. 

“Y/N, can we please talk about this?” he asked, reaching for her hand to pull her to him.

“Please don’t, Steve. Don’t make this harder than it already is.” she said, peering over at him while blinking some tears back. “You don’t deserve the chance to explain if all you’re gonna do is lie to me about what you did. You aren’t who I thought you were, Steve. You’re just a liar.”

His hand fell from hers and he sat on the corner of his bed, feeling his world seemingly begin to fall apart around him. He had finally learned to love again, finally learned to feel something again. And he fucked it up, just like he always did. Now he was the one who couldn’t hold back the tears. He watched as she packed to clothes that she’d always left at his house into a bag hastily, her sniffles being the only sound to fill the room. Steve wanted nothing more than for her to stay, but it would come at a price. And that price would be bringing another person into the fight against the Upside Down. 

Steve was radio silent as he watched her pack her things, his heart breaking as he sat in conflict with himself. She finally looked over to him, but felt no remorse for him when she saw the broken look on his face. As far as she knew, he’d only been with her to break her heart. A sigh escaped her lips as she broke from his gaze, turning to walk out the door without any last words. 

“My nightmares are back.” he said softly, watching as she stopped from turning the doorknob to look back at him. 

“I know, Steve.” she said, frowning at the thought of him struggling in his sleep almost every night that week. “What does that have to do with this? You’ve never told me why you have them, so why bring them up now?”

“I—They’re back because of what’s happening. Because I’m scared again.” he admitted, eyes wide as they finally met hers. “I haven’t been staying late at work because I’m cheating on you—I would never do that to you, Y/N. Dustin—He decided that he needed our help with cracking some code he intercepted from his Cerebro thing, you remember him telling us about that, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand what this has to do with you lying to me.” she stated, clearly annoyed with the situation.

“I don’t really—Shit. I don’t know how to even say this to you, you aren’t gonna believe me.” he sighed, she could tell that he was struggling with his thoughts and what to say to her. “If I tell you this, you just have to promise to listen, okay? It all sounds like some made up shit, but I swear to you, I’m telling the truth.”

She nodded hesitantly, only agreeing to listen because of the look on his face. There was no way he could fake the fear that had struck his eyes once he admitted he was having nightmares again, there was no way he could fake whatever he was about to admit to her. 

“Two years ago, my world changed forever.” he said, watching her quirk up an eyebrow at the seemingly dramatic line he just threw. “I’m not kidding, Y/N. When Barbara Holland went missing, everything in my life went to shit. Something took her from my—my yard. And those things, they’ve hurt plenty of other people in Hawkins too.”

“Like you?” she questioned, chewing on her lip as she watched Steve’s sincerely scared eyes.

“Yeah, kinda. I’ve never actually been hurt by one, but the whole situation has really, really messed me up, Y/N.” he said, his voice wavering as he spoke. “I wouldn’t have hid everything from you if it wasn’t dangerous.”

“Why’re the nightmares back now?” she asked, finally taking her hand off the doorknob after it sitting there for the whole conversation; she had finally gave in and realized how serious it truly was. “You’re all over the place right now, Steve."

“I know, I know. I’m trying to make a really, really long story into a short one.” he said, laughing bitterly at the thought of reliving everything in story form. “Dustin intercepted that code, and it’s something in Russian. I know these things are from another dimension or world or something, but I just have a feeling that this Russian code has something to do with the Upside Down.”

“I’m sorry did you just say these things are from another dimension?” she asked, eyes widening as he nodded in response. “What the hell—“

“I’m not making this shit up! It’s all crazy, I know. But that’s why I’m having the nightmares and that’s why I carry that stupid bat around with me—I know it sounds crazy but you have to believe and trust me. I don’t want you getting hurt because of this, I wanna keep you out of it—“

“Steve, you can’t just spring something like this on me and expect me not to want to help! I’m not letting you fight fucking Russians and monsters from another dimension by yourself!” she interjected, dropping the bag from her shoulder as she walked to stand in front of him.

“Y/N, you are not getting anywhere any of this—“

“Yes, I am! You’re not gonna go through this alone, Steve.” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at his desperation.

“I’m not gonna be alone! I don’t want you to get hurt like I have.” he said softly, his lips pulling into a deep frown.

“I’m gonna be fine, I’ll have you with me. But I’m not just gonna sit back and let this happen when I know what’s going on. Please, Steve.” she pleaded, cupping his cheeks while peering down into his fear-filled gaze. “I want to help, okay?”

“Okay.” Steve said with a nod.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @jxnehxpper @queenofthehairharrington @charmed-asylum @a-magey @daddystevee @heart-eye-harrington @lemonypink @igotmadskills @ilovebucketbarnes

[ladynightmare913]

Red Rose, Blood Moon

Welcome to Chapter 7! This is an original inspired by the tale of  Red Riding Hood. I would like to say a special thank you to my best friend and co-author Olivia ( @asunshinepuff ​ )for joining me on in writing this world onto paper. 

CW: There is a brief mention of implied intercourse. You have been warned!

This story contains only original characters created by Olivia and myself. For those of you who want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask to me or Olivia on her blog. If you have any questions, theories, or curiosities about any of our characters or how the story will progress, send them to the ask box!

Now without further adieu!

Chapter 7: The Necklace

The hunters lead Rosabella and Bardolph to their village. The hunter hurriedly ushered Rosabella into his home, leading her up the stairs and into the room where his wife rested. Rosabella lifted the back of her hand to her nose, the room smelled foul. The scent of rotting herbs overwhelmed her. She looked over to the woman who was bed ridden.

The woman was deathly pale, her skin was clammy, her eyes were sunken and when she tried to speak, her voice croaked. Rosabella looked at the hunter who stared at his wife in silent grief at the state of her. “How long has she been like this?”

“Months, it wasn’t this bad at first. But it got worse over time, she says it feels like someone is stabbing her on her back.” 

Rosabella’s eyes scanned over the room, lowering her hand, she followed the scent of rotten herbs. She suspected the cause of his wife’s sudden illness. “What do you smell?” Rosabella asked the men. 

They looked amongst themselves, some sniffed the air. Shaking their heads. The hunter spoke. “Nothing.” 

Rosabella merely nodded, “I see,” she crouched down to her knees, bending over to look under the bed. She smirked when she found what she was looking for. She stood back up with an object in hand. Turning to the hunters, she opened her gloved palm, showing a dark purple pouch covered in markings. 

“This is the cause of your wife’s illness.” She spoke. 

The hunters all frowned, trying to get a closer look at the small pouch. “What is it?” 

“It’s a witch’s pouch. A witch can hex anyone with it from a great distance. It’s filled with cursed and rotten herbs like Voodoo Lily. Those flowers smell awful, and over time, can cause extreme pain.” Rosabella paused, looking amongst the hunters. “Someone cursed your wife.” 

The hunter frowned, the others began to mutter to themselves. Rosabella pushed past them, walking to the fireplace down stairs. She tossed the pouch into the burning flames. “Your wife should recover soon.”

“Who would do this to her?” The hunter asked.

Rosabella only gave a sympathetic glance. “It could be anyone, someone in the village could hold a grudge against your wife, and went to see a witch to get this pouch. I suggest you track down who might have done this.” 

The hunters nodded in agreement, a weak call from upstarts startled them, the hunter who’s name was called on their wife’s lips raced upstairs. She was already starting to recover.  

The hunters gave the huntress many thanks, Rosabella bashfully accepted their kind words. Bardolph whistled. “My lady, you truly are a maiden of many talents.” He grinned.  

“Why thank you Bardolph, but my talents are the product of years of study and experience. I still have much to learn.”  

“But of course.” He bowed his head. 

Rosabella rolled her eyes, catching sight of a woman walking towards then. She was a short woman with brown eyes, which widened at the sight of Bardolph. “You, don’t I-”

“Bonjour my lady, I am Bardolph Sinclair,” He grabs her hand, a smirk on his lips. “Au chanté mademoiselle.”

The woman flushed, “My word monsieur, you are too bold.”  

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Rosabella chuckled, quickly taking her leave when Bardolph called after her. 

Rosabella ignored him. Looking up at the moon, she deemed that it would be hours before she needed to return to the inn. She decided to go for a stroll in the woods. She’ll come back for Bardolph after. 

The night air was crisp and cool, Rosabella breathed in the fresh air. Twirling slowly as she gazed upon at the moon. A smile graced her face. Looking down, she stopped. An inaudible gasp escaped her. A fawn walked towards her, its nose twitching as it sniffed the air. Rosabella slowly crouched down, offering her hand. A bright smile on her face.

The fawn trotted over to her happily, licking her face, Rosabella laughed in joy. 

“Oh what a sweet thing you are!” She spoke softly, gently stroking it’s head. The fawn began to suckle her hand. 

“Oh little fawn, I have no milk to give you,” Rosabella looked over the fawn, her eyes scanning the forest, “Where is your mother?” 

A twig snapped, Rosabella gasped, turning quickly. Her heart raced, she hadn’t heard anyone following her. She searched for anyone hiding in the shadows, sniffing the air, she frowned. This scent, it was familiar. Where had she smelled it before? 

She wasn’t given a chance to ponder on her questions, the fawn trotted away from her, its tail wagging happily. “Wait I-” The fawn didn’t stop, only jumping into the brush. Rosabella humed in thought. Perhaps the fawn head it’s mother calling for it. Taking a deep breath, Rosabella continued her walk. 

She returned to the village when the moon was making its final light in the sky. Rosabella followed Bardolph’s scent, which was mostly ash and earth. But his scent was everywhere, so Rosabella decided to wait outside of the hunter’s home. 

The scent of ashe and earth reached Rosabella before Bardolph walked towards her briskly. Rosabella’s brows rose as she leaned on the wall of the house, her arms crossed. His lips were swollen, his hair was a mess, a dark purple bruise lined his collarbone, and looked out of breath. He was tucking in his shirt. A musky scent lingered on him, and the scent of the woman from earlier. Her nose crinkled. 

“Have an eventful night Bardolph?” She raised a quizzical brow. He responded with a weak laugh. 

“Why don’t we just head on back to the inn, hmm?” He smiled before he walked ahead. 

Rosabella shook her head as she walked silently behind him. Glaring at his head. He seemed to notice, he looked back at her. 

“Surely you can understand a man has needs Mademoiselle.” He chuckled awkwardly. 

Rosabella didn’t dignify him with a response, only raising an unimpressed brow. Bardolph sigh, about to turn around his eyes, caught the necklace on her neck. He frowned. 

“Where did you get that?” His eyes narrowed. 

“Get what?” Rosabella frowned in return. 

“That necklace.” He pointed to her chest. 

Rosabella eyed him skeptically, her hand gently grasped her necklace. Her fingers tracing over the gold antlers and ruby, “It was found on me as a babe. I do not know where it comes from. I like to believe it was my mother’s.” 

Bardolph stared at the necklace for a long while, “I had not noticed it before,” he muttered. He cleared his throat, seeming to come back to himself. “Forgive me, it’s just. I have only ever seen that necklace once before. It was thought to have been missing.” 

Rosabella looked at her necklace. Why would it have thought to be missing, unless… 

“Do you know this necklace?” Her eyes tracked every move he made. Maybe, just maybe, he would know where it came from, it may even lead her to her family. 

“No, but even if I did, it’s probably a fake.” He shrugged and continued on his way. 

Rosabella frowned. That was, quite rude. Rather insulting actually, to insinuate that her own mother left her a cheap copy of an original necklace. But, Red hadn’t said anything about it. Her head tilted as she walked, deep in thought. If what Red said was true, about him being older than that sixty year old man, which she sincerely doubted, he might know about her necklace. 

Red had said he was a traveler, he might have answers for her. Answers that might lead her to learning about her past. And if Bardolph’s reaction to it was anything to go by, it was indeed something travelers knew about, since he too was a traveler. But again, why hadn’t Red said anything about it?

Rosabella froze, the back of her hair stood on end, she felt as though someone was watching her. She looked around behind her, but there was no one there. Taking a breath she faced forward once more and paused, Bardolph was watching her from the window of the inn. She exhaled slowly. Why did Bardolph alarm her so?

The next day, Bardolph was nowhere to be found, and so Rosabella was alone in the carriage, not that she minded. She was relieved actually. It took another two days before they finally reached Paris. There Rosabella hugged the old man goodbye and went about her way back to her village. 

When she was about to enter the gate, she could hear a loud gasp and was suddenly enveloped with a near bone crushing hug. Rosabella laughed in joy. Cassandra pulled away with a smile and her own laughter, Felis was smiling. 

 “Where have you been? We’ve looked for you for days! I tried to track you with my magic but-”

“Let’s just say Royce has forever banned us from the kitchen.” Felis interjected. 

Cassandra elbowed Felis in his stomach, muttering about how he was a traitor. Rosabella laughed, overjoyed to hear their familiar bickering. A loud yipping raced toward her, looking down she saw Nox running straight at her.

“Nox!” Her arms opened wide as the Russian Sable jumped into her waiting arms. “Oh Nox, you have no idea how much I missed you.” 

Nox licked her cheek, giving her wet kisses as he walked over her arm to take his rightful place on her neck. Rosabella chuckled while Cassandra smiled at her sister, Lumi was perched on her shoulder. Rosabella hugged Cassandra once more, she spoke, “Oh Cassandra, I have so much to tell you.” 

Cassandra nodded. “Tell me everything.” 

Tag list: Let me know if you wish to be added!

@spookypotato

[csykora]

[A newspaper photo of Sergei (front, tits out) and other members of the Soviet national team running on an outdoor track around their training compound.]

[A newspaper photo of the players taking a quick break, skates and socks on. Tretiak is standing over them and Sergei is seated in the middle, smiling at someone out of frame.]

“Camp” was literal. For nine to eleven months of the year, the players lived in compound inside 12-foot wrought iron walls in the woods of Arkhangelskoye, which had once been the country getaway spot for Moscow elite.

Coach Tikhonov viewed physical development as the first, last, and only priority. He took notes on everyone’s progress, or failure, constantly, in little notebooks. For lack of any other mental stimulation, Igor started to take notes, too. While Coach catalogued them, Igor watched him.

On the first floor were Coach’s office and rooms for certain ‘staff’, who never did much of anything but went everywhere with the team. Everyone knew who was KGB. Upstairs, players bunked with a roommate. “Each room is big enough for the two beds, a night table, a lamp, and not much more.” Eighteen rooms per floor. “Toilets? Of course: two per floor. Telephones? A private one for the coaches and trainers, and two more—one per floor, at the end of the hall, for the 70 soccer and hockey players.” The phones were available for an hour a day--for everyone. One of the players’ phones would be out of order for the next nine years.

They woke up by 7:15 AM. At 7:30 they started a daily program of weights, carrying cement blocks or each other, and running, lap after lap in the bare grass and mud around the walled compound in the high summer sun or snow. Breakfast at 9. Then more weights and skating until they were released at 7PM for dinner, and then they were really free to race each other to the shared phone. Back to bed at 11PM. “Goodnight, Igor. Tomorrow you can do it all over again.”

[Krutov and Fetisov performing bodyweight sit-ups in the field outside CSKA's practice facility]

Sometimes they mixed it up. In the short summers they had less ice time, more weights, and more running. Before tournaments they ran less and skated more. “Variety,” Igor notes, “is the spice of life.” Depending on the season, you were supposed to be rationed a day off to drive home every ten days—as long as you were back by 7:30 the next morning. 

Unlike Americans and Canadians in the NHL, the Soviet players were all officially amateurs. That was how they were allowed to compete in the Olympics and World Championships when professional NHLers were banned. During the season they received the equivalent of $60 US a month as a stipend for food and housing, with a bonus of about $16 dollars if they won.

In the season Igor waffled since the initial offer, Tikhonov had almost changed his mind: he wanted to put Igor between his second line wingers, but those two turned out to play better apart. “That left him with a problem: he had me. Now what was he to do with me? Put me between Makarov and Krutov on the first line, or on another line he was in the process of forming?”

“There are still doubts,” Tikhonov told everyone, “about this Voskresensk boy.” 

The doubts weren’t about Igor’s play—at least according to Igor. Weirdly enough if you’ve got a Russian dictionary and you look up “balls-to-the-wall confidence,” it’s just a picture of Igor Larionov. It’s cross-indexed with “death wish.” The doubts were about Igor’s body, and Coach’s judgement drew attention. 

Always short, he admits he was almost skeletal, nothing like the other boys. He hated weight training, and when he arrived he rarely ate meat, afraid that bulking up at all would ruin his fine skating. Zhluktov poked and teased him about it, which only cemented Igor’s desire to crush him and beat everyone else to the top line.

“Partners! Partners! The boys who with their skill and character would compliment each other and me, to help me rise to full height. I needed partners like I needed oxygen.”

Before arriving in Arkhangel for training camp Igor had reassured himself, “I knew I had one friend waiting for me, one comrade-in-arms….I would need help, support in word and deed. Instinctively, I probably waited for his supportive shoulder.” But Vova had learned enough in the last year to be more cautious than Igor in drawing attention or changing the dynamics of the room. At first he “was warm, but nothing more.” 

Still, Igor reassured himself, “I knew—and I was not ever wrong—that when I truly needed him, he would be there.”

Sergei, an unfamiliar star, preoccupied Igor even more. Still charming in every photo from that time, his hair is perfect and he poses with arms Igor could only envy around his teammates. But Sergei struck Igor as if he was holding some things back. It had been only days since Kharlamov’s death, though Igor had no way of knowing how much that meant.

Lyosha was big and gentle, with easy advice. He treated Igor like a bit of “an ugly duckling,” unlikely to make the first line—unless he could listen, learn fast, and fit into Coach's plan. Coach had found Igor and the rest of them when no one else would, after all. 

Slava seemed to be watching him across the room. As Igor began to prove himself in practice, he had the feeling Slava’s expression changed, that maybe, Slava was silently rooting for him.  

At the end of the summer the three boys were given a try together. Igor, Sergei, and Vova were such similar skaters that they were able to pull into tight formation, a literal line, almost on top of each other, the two wingers escorting Igor so closely his legs were sometimes sliding between the others’ and he could bounce the puck up and down between the three of them. Then, all five. He and Slava were similar thinkers, staying out on the ice long after the others. Like music, he wrote that he didn’t have to look behind him because he wouldn’t ever mistake the rhythm of Vova’s skates for Sergei’s, Slava’s or Lyosha’s. Igor was finally issued a green practice sweater to match theirs.

"Our line could never be evaluated according to primative arithmetic addition: the innovation and steadfastness of Fetisov, plus the reliability and self-sacrifice of Kasatonov, plus the elegance and refinement of Makarov, plus the fearlessness and pressure of Krutov, plus the [center] position of Larionov.

No, no, as long as we were together and we had the same intentions, the line was transformed into a force far stronger that which you would get by adding up our merits and abilities.

It was a joyful, undeniable fact: the Greens were made for each other."

The five of them found they could play, or talk, for hours. But they never planned or replayed mistakes off the ice, and promised not to ever blame each other after. That was the only way they could take the risks they did. They fought sometimes, more and more like a little family: Slava and Lyosha always took each others’ side if one of the forwards fucked up a play in practice. The other two forwards would leap in on his side, but then one of them would forget which friend he was favoring and flop sides, so by the time practice was over every argument ended just as easily.

 Soon they were doing everything together, including pickup soccer and volleyball against the second-best unit of players from Dynamo. They won, because Igor was bad at soccer but liked winning everything all the time, and the others indulged him. 

[Sergei playing soccer in a field outside the barracks in his underwear. I’m not picking ones of Sergei on purpose, he’s just the one who has the most dedicated fan pages. You can see the rest of them topless in a minute.]

Only sleeping separated them. Igor was jealous of Sergei and Vova’s respective roommates. He wished the three of them could be like Slava and Lyosha, who got to room together, and talked long after lights out.

“As a nice girl dreams of a handsome fiancé, so do hockey players cherish the dream that at some time they will fall into the company of such fellows, with whom they will know how to forge together THE squad, a deserving squad, in which everyone on the line will blossom.”

[My artistic interpretation of what Igor just said. An old newsprint photo of him kneeling on the ice with Sergei and Vova on either side, with the text “ferda booooys” in very large pink font.]

In September 1981, the national team headed to Canada with its newest member and its silent escort to avenge Coach Tikhonov’s Olympic loss. The Soviets hadn’t cared too much about the first Canada Cup invitational tournament five years earlier, but after 1980, this one was a gift. When active NHLers didn’t play in the Olympics or World Championships, the idea of the Cup was to bring together all the very best players in the world--in Canada, of course. Alan Eagleson, then head of the NHLPA, masterminded the tournament (also a lot of fraud).

The Swedes landed in Canada feeling smug about their almost-entirely NHLer roster, and thought they were the favorites. The Americans had beaten the Soviets last year, and were sure they’d do it again. And of course Canada thought they could win it all with a “Dream Line” built around their own new weapon.

The Green Unit debuted on the international stage eight weeks after meeting each other, and they crushed it. 

The final was a showdown between Canada and the Soviets. Coach Scotty Bowman told his players, “We really are favorites in the final. Nobody in this country will tolerate a loss."

Coach Tikhonov told his, "Today you’ve got to play so well that the entire Canadian population will talk about you afterwards and remember you for a long time. Play so well that the Canadian fans, when they will leave the Forum, will wait for you when you get on the bus after the game and admire you."

This is the one time I’ll say Coach Tikhonov was right. I guess you can call him hockey’s biggest fan.

Main

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[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

xxvi. REPARATIONS

          It had been three days and both father and daughter were getting on well. They made up for the months that they'd been separated, every bad memory forgotten to the past. Ivy began to have thoughts about staying with her father permanently, it was possible and it would stop the girl from doing any jobs that would get her hands dirtier than they were already.

It was time for Ivy to make her decision.

Ivy wasn't ready for drastic change, not yet. She wanted to stay with the Shelbys, mainly because of Finn. Michael too. But, she wanted to see her father more often, a lot more often. It was decided that she'd continue to live with Polly but have weekly visits with her father. And when working with Tommo, she would not allow him to push her around like he had in the past. It appeared to be a deal no one could dispute with.

The Solomons' had a meeting with Tommy Shelby himself that day, however, to discuss the business with the Russians; and so Ivy could report back to Tom what she had learnt. The girl had told her father the real reason why she was back with him, it was a part of Tommo's plan. Alfie and Ivy had agreed that she would tell Tom a few things but no where near the amount of information that he would be expecting. She didn't want to betray either of them, she wanted to be loyal to both, as hard as that seemed.

"Are you going to tell me about this...Finn you seem so fond of?" Alfie quizzed Ivy as they entered the last lengths of their journey to Tommy's house. "He's just a friend, father." The girl said, although she knew he was much more than that to her. She had come to terms with the fact that she was in love with the boy, at least she thought she was. The way she felt about him, it was unlike anything she'd ever felt before so she thought it had to love, surely. "You're a shit liar." Her father chuckled as he kept his eyes on the road ahead of him. "I am not," Ivy tried to defend herself but she knew it was true if you learned to look for the signs; fidgeting and no eye-contact.

"Fine, we're close," Alfie's eyebrow rose in curiosity. "Leave me alone, I might actually have a good relationship with someone." Ivy joked with the man. "But he's a Shelby." Alfie seethed, although they were business partners, he still struggled to trust the family, let alone allow his daughter to date one of them. "Yes, father, he's a Shelby, but he's not like any of them. He's kind, he doesn't have a single bad bone in his body, as far as I've seen anyway. Please, just don't let your distrust of the Shelbys come between us." Alfie took a deep sigh at his daughter's words, thoughts raging through his mind,"You love him?"

"I think so, I don't know." Ivy confessed but Alfie made no reply. The rest of the journey was quick and silent; her father's true feelings unknown to the girl. The pair pulled up to the house, clouds raged over it and rain threatened to drench the building. Ivy jumped out of the car before her father, Tommo had asked to speak to her first without Alfie there. "Ivy, it's good to see you." Tommo said as he led her into his office after welcoming her through the door. "You too, I suppose." Her last words were muttered. "What do you have for me?" His eyes burnt through her, a mix of ice and fire. He lighted and lifted a cigarette up to his lips as he sat down in his large leather chair. The girl told him about her father, but only what her and Alfie had agreed to tell him. "Is that everything?" Tommo questioned once Ivy had finished talking. She nodded, "He was cautious with me."

He paused for a moment, thinking over his words, "I suppose you told him the truth then? About why you moved back in?" Tom stood up out of his chair to face out the window, his eyes locked on her father. "Tommo, I want to help both of you. I don't want to choose between you or my father anymore, I want to fluctuate between you instead of picking permanent sides. That doesn't mean I'll betray you, I won't. I just," She stopped, searching for the right words to say, "Any business that divides you two will be none of my concern, is that alright?"

"Get your father for me," He ordered her, although his voice was soft. The girl stood up, ready to leave the room, "And Ivy," Stopping, she turned back to the man who was now facing her, "Don't let your love for your father corrupt you. Don't feel forced to love your family just because they're family,"

'What's that supposed to mean?' Ivy asked herself. A few moments of silence was passed between the pair before Tom started to speak again, "You can live with whoever you want, but you still work for me, understood?" The girl nodded, no words left her mouth. Tommo's look was stern but there was still affection behind the ice of his eyes, deep down. As she left his office, laughter echoed through the empty hall. 'Of course the boys are here.' She thought. She made haste getting her father and leading him into Tommy's office so she could reunite with the rest of the Shelby family. It had only been six days, but it felt like it'd been a lifetime since she'd seen them all.

A cheer erupted as Ivy entered the kitchen, Johnny Dogs, Arthur, John, Michael and Finn were scattered around the room. "We thought you'd left us." John approached the girl, swinging his arms around her shoulders and squeezing her in a tight embrace. "We missed you." Arthur told the girl from his position on the table, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thanks, it's good to be back." John shook her shoulders once before before returning to where he was stood before. Ivy's eyes scanned the room. They landed on Michael's, his lips turning up at the corners when she looked at him. He gave her a small nod before turning  his attention back to the boys' conversation.

"Ivy," A small voice came from beside her, she spun to be met with the emerald of Finn's eyes. "I've really fucking missed you, doll." His long arms pulled her into his chest, her's reciprocating the action. "I've missed you too, Finn." She buried her head into his chest, reveling in the feel of his arms wrapped about her, squeezing. His head was rested against her own, his nose in her hair. "We still need to have that talk." He mumbled into her hair. "Of course," The pair pulled out of the hug. Nerves began to fill the girl, what was Finn going to tell her, was it good or bad?

Finn led the girl out of the room and to the sofa that rested in the foyer, the same one where she'd had her breakdown and Mickey had comforted her. The memory pained her. "What did you want to tell me?" Ivy asked, her heart almost bursting with emotion already. Finn's stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushed and hair tousled from his own hands. "I-I don't know how to say this but, um, I've never felt like this about anyone before... and, fuck," His eyes avoided hers, a large sigh leaving his plump lips. "What I'm trying to say is I love you," Finn took in another deep breath and looked towards the girl, searching for her reaction. "Ivy, I love you."

"Finn..." She whispered, her heart pounding against her chest. The truth was out, and it was mutual. "I understand if you don't feel the same way-" His words were cut short by Ivy's arm wrapping around his broad shoulders, pulling him in for another hug. "I love you too," She muttered in his ear, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. Finn breathed a sigh of relief, his arms coming around the small waist of the girl, squeezing hard as if he never wanted to let go.

But they had to eventually. Their arms loosened their grip around each other and returned back to their own sides. "But, Finn, I don't think I'm ready for a proper relationship yet," Ivy's voice was timid, not wanting to anger Finn. "We should wait and see what happens for a while."

She had done it again. Ivy had lied to Finn. Yes, she didn't want a proper relationship, but it wasn't because she wasn't ready for one. It was because of Michael. They had finally started getting along better, 'Maybe that would progress further,' Ivy thought to herself. The girl didn't register the words that were coming out of her mouth, it was as if her subconscious was speaking for her.

"If that's what you want." Ivy could hear the sadness in the boy's voice, it pulled at her heart strings, the pain running deep throughout her body. "That doesn't mean we can't be close though." She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, the tips of her fingers playing with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. "We can still kiss?" The smile that slid onto his lips was almost priceless, Ivy mirrored his look of joy and nodded, a small giggle left her lips too. "Maybe more, too," She smirked as she ran her thumb over Finn's bottom lip. "We should go back, they might suspect something." Finn nodded at her words and led her back into the kitchen.

Once they entered the room, her eyes immediately met with Michael's, a storm brewing behind them. The girl furrowed her eyebrows as if to ask Mickey whether she was the source of his anger, he shook his head, pushing his hands into his pockets. "You've got two choices, Michael," John spoke up, a cigar in his hand, a cloud of smoke circling his head. Finn and Ivy sat themselves at the table, listening intently to John's words, "You fuck off to America with Arthur, join the Apaches, or you marry the girl."

Michael stared right at Ivy, neither of them wanted the latter option. The girl figured that he must've told them he got Charlotte pregnant. "This isn't a joke." Mickey grumbled, taking a few steps towards John, clearly getting riled up. "Arthur, are you really gonna live with the Apaches?" Johnny Dogs quizzed the older man as he sat on the kitchen counter. Arthur ignored his question, a teacup held close to his lips, "Told her father yet?" The man asked Mickey. "No." Ivy's boss began to pace the kitchen, his eyes catching hers every other second. He seemed to almost be pleading for her to do something, to help him. But she was powerless, there was nothing she could do to help him even though she wish she could. "He'll fucking shoot you, man." John shook his head before taking another drag of his cigar.

"What happened?" Finn muttered in Ivy's ear, "Mickey got his girlfriend pregnant." She told him. "How the fuck do you know?" John quizzed the girl, she shook her head slightly and turned to Michael, "Are you sure it's yours?" He sighs and nods, "I shouldn't have told you." Mickey directed his words at John, Arthur and Johnny Dogs. The eldest Shelby rolled his eyes before he began speaking again, "Then think of marriage as a beautiful road, flowers all the way down it." Michael stopped pacing and turned to his other cousin, "Is he joking?"

"It's hard to tell these days."John stated, his head shaking. Mickey sighed once again, walking over to the table and resting his hands on the surface. "Do you, uh, do you love the woman?" Arthur didn't look at the man as he mumbled his words. Ivy knew the truth but she wasn't sure if Mickey would tell it to his cousins. "Fucking what?" His stormy eyes returned, burning holes into Arthur. "Mickey." Ivy warned, keeping her voice low and trying to keep him calm. She reached her hand out to gently touch his wrist, she needed to keep him grounded. The girl could feel another pair of eyes watching her, Finn. She slowly retracted her hand, Michael taking a quick glance at her as if to thank her.

"Go and marry her like the rest of us." Arthur brushed Michael off. "She doesn't want her family to know. She doesn't wanna have the baby." He took his hands off the table and stood up straight once more, going back to pacing. "We know a woman," John said nonchalantly, his older brother quickly telling him to shut up. "Same woman who helped you out twice." He continued to speak to his brother. "Not my women." Arthur seethed, anger beginning to pile up in him.

Michael was still pacing the room, trying to keep his breathing steady. Ivy could see the muscles in his shoulders contract and relax with every breath he took. He moved over to the whiskey bottle that sat on the side, pouring himself a glass. "That's why you had them fixed, Arthur." John prodded his brother still. "Charlotte will want the best." Michael told the group, "She is the best. She used to be a nurse. Twenty minutes. Done." John reassured, but Mickey's eyes were focused on his eldest cousin. "You don't have to go in or wait outside," Arthur told him as he took another swig of his whiskey. "You go to The Garrison, drink whiskey, have a laugh. Remember, John?" He elaborated on his story but Ivy drowned out the conversation with her own thoughts.

Michael came back over to the table, his eyes burning into Arthur once more. Ivy moved her hand back to her boss's, trying to provide comfort once more without saying anything. But the conversation was cut short when the sound of a bell rung through the kitchen. "Tommy said when that bell rings, we're to all go into the big room. Come on, Tommy has a plan." Johnny Dogs finished the last of his whiskey before exiting the room, John, Arthur, and Finn following shortly after. Ivy turned to Michael, the pair now alone in the kitchen together. "Don't feel for-"

"Finn knows." Mickey cut off her words, then throwing back the rest of his whiskey.  "What?" She stood up from her chair and approached her boss. He turned to her, "Finn knows about us. At least, he suspects something." Mickey ran his hands up the girls shoulders, his breathing still slightly irregular. "There's nothing to suspect," Ivy told the man but he raised his eyebrow at her. They both knew it wasn't true. "We just have to be careful." He nodded then took his hands off of Ivy. "We should..." His words trailed off as he gestured towards the door. "I'm always here for you, Mickey. Remember that." Her boss gave her a small smile before following her out of the kitchen and into Tommy's office.

After a tense encounter between Alfie and Arthur, Tommy managed to explain his plan to the group. Tommo, Arthur, John, and Alfie would go to a party the Russians were organising while Polly, Michael and Ivy would go to Ada's house and she would join Shelby Company Limited. Tom spoke briefly about a priest that was involved in the Russian business, Ivy noticed Mickey tense up at the mention of him. She made a mental note to ask him about it later, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Polly and Ada were glad to see Ivy again, it seemed as if every Shelby had missed her. "I brought Michael because as chief accountant, he has to be witness." Polly told her niece as Ada led her, Michael, and Ivy through her house. "And I just didn't want to be alone." Ivy added on and Ada laughed lightly, Polly smiled at the pair.  The fire raged in the hearth at the end of the room, warmth cascaded onto the room, shadows following their path. Ivy glanced around Ada's house, expensive furniture, expensive trinkets, expensive clothes; the Shelbys had done really well for themselves.

Ada led them to a dark wood table that sat next to the fire, all of the girls sitting down and getting out the necessary papers. "Ada, can I, uh, use your phone?" Mickey questioned, still standing up. Both Ivy and Polly knew the reason behind his question. Charlotte. "Michael, business first." His mother told him and continued to arrange the papers. Begrudgingly, he took a seat next to Ivy, his eyes focused on his watch. "Michael, stop looking at your watch." Polly scolded again as she handed Ada a pen so she could sign the documents. Ivy giggled lightly at their interaction, Mickey shot a dark glare at her but she knew he had no ill intention behind it.

"Ada, whilst you're reading this, um, can I go and use your phone?" He persisted. "Who's the lucky girl, Michael?" Ada smiled through her words, still continuing to read. "Her name is Charlotte and Michael cannot breathe if he does not talk to her every two hours." Polly spat. Ivy bit her lip to refrain from laughing, not wanting to anger him anymore. Michael took a deep breath and asked Ada again. "Phone's in the hall. Dial naught for the line. And keep it quick, I pay the bill." Ada said, Michael not wasting a single second in leaving the room. "Not for long." Polly said with a smirk as she pulled a cigarette out of its case and lit it, Ivy and Ada lightly chuckling.

It only took ten minutes and Ada was already talking about politics, "Think about it, together we can take control," She spoke to Ivy and Polly, both of them intrigued in her words. "With three of us in the company, and Ivy's ties to London, we can straighten things out." Ivy nodded along to her words, she did make a good point. "What about the politics?" Polly asked. "You, and Ivy and me fighting together and winning, that is politics. That's a new kind of politics. It's just this way I get paid and Karl gets a nice Christmas."

"She makes a fair point." Ivy told Pol and she nodded, "She does. Welcome to the bourgeoisie." The woman smiled and the girls laughed lightly once more. "Welcome to Shelby Company Limited." Polly told her niece, a warm smile upon her face as Ada finished signing the papers. The longer Michael was out of the room, the more worried Ivy became. She just wanted him to be happy, no matter the cost. It was almost as if her thoughts had summoned the man. Michael entered the room again, his face pale, a look of worry plastered upon it. "Michael, would you like to welcome Ada, our new Head of Property and Acquisitions."

"Congratulations. Where do I sign?" His voice was shaky, his hands too. Polly handed over the papers, her eyes rolling slightly. Ivy watched the man carefully. "Ada, have you got whiskey?" The woman spoke with sarcasm in her words, "Yeah, Tommy." The girls exchanged looks with each other. Polly spoke up first, "I've already told him. He's becoming too like his cousin." Her eyes darted over the documents again. Mickey made his way over to the bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a glass, "I though that was the idea." He replied to his mother. "Yeah, Tommy but with a bit more fucking charm and class." She shook her head.

"Where am I sleeping Ada?" More looks were exchanged, Ada and Polly's were ones of shock whereas Ivy's was concern for the man. "In the room in between Ivy and Karl." Michael stormed out of the room without another word, ignoring the calls from his mother for him to stay. "Heartbroken, poor love." Ada said, Polly turned to look at her, her eyebrows raised. "I should probably go up too, its been a long day. Goodnight." Both Polly and Ada said goodnight and Ivy rushed out of the room, eager to see if Michael was alright.

Gradually, she raised her hand up to Michael's door. "Go away, mum." He grumbled from the other side. "It's Ivy," She told him. Footsteps were heard from inside the room and after a few seconds the door opened to reveal a shirtless Michael. "I, um, wanted to make sure you were alright," He towered over the girl, the whiskey glass still in his hand. "Can I come in?" Mickey gingerly took a few steps away from his door, allowing the girl into his room. She heard the latch of the door behind her and almost immediately after a sob. She spun on her heals to see tears pouring out of her boss's eyes. "Mickey," She said, hastily making her way over to him. Ivy took him in her arms, led him to the bed and sat him down. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hot tears leaking onto the collar of her shirt. "It's alright, everything's going to be alright."

They stayed in that position for a while, Mickey's arms wrapped around her waist, his head against her neck. "Can you stay with me tonight, princess?" He pulled away from the embrace, her neck becoming cold from the lack of his presence. "Nothing sexual," His lips were pouted and his eyes were watery, the blue of them shining when the light hit them. "Unless you want to." He smirked slightly and his hands squeezed her waist. "And you call me a whore?" She joked, standing up and removing her skirt. "You love it though." He stood up too so he could remove his clothes and get into bed. "I do."

"Here." Mickey handed his shirt to the girl so she had something to sleep in. "Thank you." She took it from his hands and slipped it over her underwear. His eyes didn't move from her body. "Fuck, I've missed that." He moved closer to the girl, his hands slipping under his own shirt to touch the smooth skin of her waist. "You have Charlotte." Ivy said before Michael could kiss her. "Not for long," He took a deep breath as Ivy waited for him to continue. "I'm splitting up with her, after she gets rid of the baby." She cupped his cheek, coming closer to the man. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, you're not." He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I am, Mickey, look at me. I'm sorry to hear it because it's upsetting you. I'm glad that you're splitting with her because I don't like her but I hate seeing you like this." His crystal eyes opened to look into the ice of Ivy's. Licking his lips, he moved closer to Ivy's. They met, soft lips caressing each other as Michael's arms wrapped tigher around her waist. "Thank you, for being so good to me. I've been nothing but rude and disrespectful."

"Get in the bed, Mickey," She told him softly once they pulled out of the kiss. He did as she asked and she followed suit, crawling into his arms. "I like it when you're rough with me," She spoke, her head leaning against Mickey's bare chest, his heartbeat playing like music to her ears. "I just don't like you being a dickhead." She chuckled slightly and he did too, "Noted." He mumbled before he placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

As they lay in silence, Ivy's thoughts ran wild. Then she remembered, the meeting earlier, Mickey tensing up when Tommo mentioned the priest.  "Michael." She began. "Yes, princess?" His voice became deeper, sleep beginning to take him over. "Earlier today at the meeting, when Tommo talked about the priest who was working with the Russians," Ivy felt the muscles in his chest tense, his heartbeat becoming a lot faster than it was before. "Do you know him?" Taking in a shaky breath, he told Ivy, "I used to," She looked up at him, prompting him to continue his story. "When I was with the parrish, he paid more...attention to me." She understood what he meant, and she didn't want to force him to talk about it because he was clearly uncomfortable with it. "Mickey, I'm so sorry." Tears started to fill Ivy's eyes, his hand wiped the fallen ones from her cheeks. "S'alright. I'm going to kill him."

"Michael-"

"I'm fed up of my family treating me like a child. I need to do this." Pain coursed through his words, his grip on the girl tightening as he spoke. "I know, I understand. Just, let me come with you. It'll be your first kill and you'll need someone with experience who you can trust." Silence fell upon the pair as Michael considered it. "Alright, but I get the final shot."

Even after their conversation had died down and Michael had drifted off to sleep, Ivy's thoughts continued to race. Instead of business, it was about the war of hearts she now faced.

'Nobody could love a monster like me.'

She thought, it was something she had always thought yet somehow, both Finn and Michael had fallen for her. Finn loved her, but what about Michael? Was it just sex, or something more? Would she cave in for her love for Finn? Or would she go to the darker side, the rougher side with Michael?

xxvii. SHELL SHOCK*

MASTERLIST

[gayregis]

boppinrobin replied to your post: “Question. Part 1. Hi. I like your blog and your analytical analysis of books,”

aauuuughhh tysm for ur analysis as always

thank you for reading and liking it!!

arinasassymessi replied to your post: “Question. Part 1. Hi. I like your blog and your analytical analysis of books,”

Thank you again for your response! I wrote anonymously because I was a little embarrassed by my English, but to be honest, I've been reading your blog for a very long time, and I've always wanted to discuss some topics with you. Thank you, I feel more confident now. First of all, I apologize for the fact that I considered this scene pro-life.

The thing is, I've reread the witcher books countless times (mostly because of Regis, lol). And if in the first times I was so fascinated by the plot and characters that I did not notice any obvious sexist/homophobic moments, then after rereading the books more consciously, I caught very unpleasantly, conservative motives, which Sapkowski is not shy about.

I remember that the first time this scene, even though it caused a bit of misunderstanding, still touched me with its warmth and how Geralt emotionally supported Milva, helping her make a rather difficult decision. And the way Regis was pleased with his actions, smiling at him, awww.

But after studying the books in more detail and the messages that Sapkowski puts in them, it seems to me that I began to see a catch everywhere. At first, I was also delighted to learn about Ciri's relationship with Mistle, wow, progressive author, LGBTQ+ representation! But after seeing this relationship "live," I felt cheated, and since then, I have returned to this scene with Milva.

I thought, oh no, isn't everything here the same as I believed? Most of all, I was afraid of Regis because he is my comfort character, the voice of reason, and a progressive medic. Does Sapkowski put pro-life ideas in his mouth?.. After a couple of discussions with friends, this fear only took root.

However, after reading your in-depth analytical analysis, I agreed with it, looking at the facts in a new way, and was glad that my first guesses and feelings from this scene were close to the truth. Now I can rest in peace, lol.

About "medicament/medicine" and "agent." I have read books in Russian, and now I am rereading "Baptism of Fire" in English to practice. I think the difference between the words "medicament" and "agent" in English is somewhat unclear, and it is impossible to say precisely which of them has a negative connotation.

Both of them sound entirely neutral and normal to me, but again, I'm not a native speaker, correct me if I'm wrong. In Russian, instead of the word "agent," we have the word "snadobye" (the closest translation is 'potion,’ and in Polish, it is 'ziola’). And while "medicament" means only medicine, a remedy, the word "snadobye" can also mean medicine, but has more folk properties (?).

It is brewed from herbs and a synonym to a potion/drug — a poisonous, magical, and forbidden drink, usually attributed to witches and wizards. For me, Geralt's refusal to use the word "medicament" — neutral and scientific-medical — in favor of a word that has a more magical/negative connotation seemed rather strange. But again, this is just my guess.

I consider the Russian translation closer to the Polish one because it belongs to the same language group, but I don't have access to the original to check what words were used there. In any case, I think that since Geralt decided to use one instead of the other, they should differ in some way, but it is not known in favor of which word this works. I also like your version.

I also had a lot of questions about Milva and her actions. She's probably my second favorite character after Regis, and I didn't understand her actions until a certain point. She was not satisfied with a woman's position in her society, so instead of the usual role, she decided to participate in Geralt's journey?

I was also not very clear about their conversation and Geralt's conclusion: "someone else's child for your own, life for life." Why? After all, she could stay in Brokilon and give birth, but if she didn't want a child, she could have an abortion (for example, she rather cruelly compared her child to young wasps that eat caterpillar alive).

Recently, the Russian Witcher community posted a short theory that Milva was in love with Geralt and therefore went after him. Milva's thoughts in Brokilon speak in favor of this — she finds Geralt attractive (although she felt something similar for Cahir when they were waiting for Geralt and Buttercup to be released from prison at night).

*not Buttercup (have no idea what is it), JASKIER

Also, their conversation outside Regis' hut at night, when Milva bitterly remarked that Geralt needed another woman — a scholar, a wise one, a beloved one (Yennefer), desire to get emotional support exactly from Geralt and and insisting on his presence during the miscarriage, her further refusal to marry the baron, and perhaps Sapkowski's sometimes ANNOYING idea that any woman should go crazy in Geralt's company. But again, these are just guesses, and I would be interested to hear your opinion.

I also didn't know that tumblr has a word limit in comments, so my replays look pretty stupid now, lol.

yes!! i also read the books first just for the plot and then went back and later, when my mind was clearer, noticed a lot more of political views in the writing. it’s the fact that a lot of sapkowski’s other takes are shitty (re: feminity, lgbt individuals and relationships), or at least come off as shitty because they are not explicit enough to actually be a progressive opinion, compounded with the fact that the scene with milva is not very clear on exactly what regis is asking geralt, why he is polling them, why geralt is upset, or what they even intend to do. i think also, because the subject is so important and people have very intense opinions about it, it makes you nervous to see it come up in a fictional story, even if the author is promoting a good message - it’s the feeling you described of, “oh no, isn't everything here the same as i believed?” 

and yeah, you’re right, in english i’d say medicament and agent both have neutral connotations, “agent” to me sounds more scientific, somehow? like it would be used in an experiment? i think i have usually heard it more in descriptions of products, like “cleansing agent” in relation to something dealing with chemistry... but then again, i am not a scientist, doctor, beautician, etc...

and about milva - agree, i love her too :D!! these are my personal opinions and takes on her character motivations but:

i think her ‘not being satisfied with a [traditional] woman’s role in society’ extends beyond not being satisfied, it’s being disgusted with it - in tower of the swallow, she describes how she as a teenager experienced sexual assault at the hands of her stepfather, and her mother didn’t do anything (assumedly because of the societal roles involved, and you can (unfortunately) see this occur in real life as well, mothers don’t protect their daughters from the men they stay with). milva beats him to death and runs away, and never goes back to that life. additionally, in baptism of fire, she talks about her name - milva, and why she changed it, and she says that her original name, maria, along with a lot of other “feminine-sounding” names beginning with M (this is at least what i got out of it, they sound like sweet names given to peasant girls), get your ass pinched in taverns (this is my best recollection of the quote). 

it’s clear that she has not only experienced discomfort, but really just blatant violence at the hands of “traditional feminity/women’s societal roles,” and so she goes to rely on only herself at first, hunting in lower sodden, and then finally being ‘adopted’ (kind of) by brokilon and eithne, becoming affiliated with them and working for them and the scoia’tael. this makes sense to me, because of course brokilon is a matriarchy, and the elves are mentioned to raise (and thus, treat) male and female elves the same way.

i won’t rule out that sapkowski intended for milva to have romantic interest in geralt, but i think that even if he did, it wasn’t interesting and i disagree with that direction for her character. my takes continued are that:

re:  "someone else's child for your own, a life for life." in this conversation, she talks to geralt about the differences between “milva” and “maria,” her two identities that seem to be at ends with each other. she didn’t want to stay in brokilon to have the child, because by societal means, she is no longer a “woman” in the traditional sense - she’s milva, not maria - she kills, she laughs as she pulls out the arrowheads from corpses, etc., like her chosen name, ‘milva,’ she is a red kite, a bird of prey. 

she doesn’t fit the societal expectations of a woman, and was never trained in being a mother (she ran away from home as a teenager, she hasn’t done ‘traditional woman things’ like keep house and cook, raise and deal with children, weave (?) and work in a house since she was 16, and she is older than that now (i’d say she’s at least past her early 20s, because she is described as a “young woman” compared to angouleme’s “very young woman” in lady of the lake, and angouleme is approx. 18-19). but since she doesn’t fit these expectations, how can she expect herself to raise this child? thus, she likely wanted to drop the baby, but since she was raised in a conservative rural society in which women are expected to bear children and not have abortions, she may have felt guilt and shame for wanting to do so. thus, she wanted to follow geralt - although she would have intentionally lost her child, she would have intentionally saved another, absolving her of her guilt. it’s like as regis described to geralt in the middle of the book, about penance and running up debts, this is a large theme of the book - a baptism of fire, fire which not only purifies, but burns (a challenge which absolves one of guilt, but it is painful). 

these are just my takes, i think sapkowski’s intentions were more along the theory that milva had a crush on geralt, but as i said i think that’s just boring and the “easy way out.” he also did that with cahir and ciri, making heterosexual love the motivation for a noble deed, and it’s just like... these characters have so much other depth and serious individual issues, and you want to reduce their motivations to just simply “they were in love”? okay... so yeah i don’t think sapkowski really may have intended any of the above, or if he did, it was to a lesser degree, but this is my interpretation of it.