#kostyas fault
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im fr a freak just lmk..
#the rusty nails#trn#konstantin trn#vasya trn#vom#ship art#digital art#fanart#these are my babies#kostyas fault
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craving some angst because i like hurting my own feelings 💀💀
how would sequel MC family (luka, jackal, older brother of sequel MC) react if sequel MC were to fail an assassination and as a consequence end up losing their life?
This is so cruel, especially for Luka 😭😭 This is, of course, assuming your MC has good relationships with all three of them 😰
Also, this might not be fully final for now, but I'm pretty confident I'll end up choosing Konstantin as the sequel MC's big brother's name 😉
I spent too much time writing out a drabble for this ask, but there are just some ideas that immediately made me wanna write something for it 😆 Well, this one's one of them! Enjoy the drabble!
“They dropped their body right in front of the gate. It was dark and we couldn’t really see the people in the car nor the car’s license plate,” the guard informs you nervously. “I’m so sorry, sir.”
But the words feel distant to you. “Leave,” someone commands the guard. Wait, it’s you. You can barely recognize your own choked voice.
There’s a rustle of clothes—the guard bowing, you suppose—before the door opens and closes. Stepping closer to the dining table, where they laid the body, you feel your stomach sinking and the familiar and cold fingers of grief and sorrow closes over your heart once again.
You stand over the drenched body, looking down at your now-dead child. It’s hard to kill a haemokinetic in battle. For every drop of blood leaking out of your body, they can heal the wounds you dealt them.
Except, of course, if you manage to wound them so severely without bleeding yourself, or a killing shot straight through a vital organ. In your child’s case, it’s a clean shot straight through the head. Probably wouldn’t have even felt it… You hope…
A choked sob tears through your throat. Maybe it’s better to cry it all out before Tyoma and Kostya hear of this—
Suddenly, the door is thrown open, jolting you a bit. Snapping your head up, you’re ready to lash out against the intruder, but your gaze softens immediately as you see that it’s your husband and son who walk in.
Kostya lets out a scream of anguish as he quickly runs to the table you’re standing by. He kneels and grabs his siblings cold hand in his, muttering something that you can’t make out. You know how painful it must be for Kostya. Despite his lighthearted teasings, he actually cares so much about his little sibling and always tries his best to protect them.
You feel a familar touch on your arm and you turn to see Tyoma. He looks sad and determined at the same time, but when he lays eyes on your face, his face soften into a concerned one immediately.
Huh, do you look even worse than you thought? You feel numb right now. Must’ve been the shock. In the next few hours, as the realization starts to dawn… Shaking your head, you try to dispel the thought.
You don’t really want to leave this numb spell right now. You don’t want to break down in front of your grieving husband and son. You want to be strong for them, like your father was when your brother died. Become an anchor, a tower that they can lean on in this hurricane.
Once they’re okay, and then you can grieve again. But it seems you can’t. You’re not as strong as your father was and as Tyoma reaches up to cup your cheek gently, the tears start to flow down.
You lean against the comforting touch, bending down as Tyoma brings your head to his chest, and strokes your hair lovingly. You sob against his clothes, “I’m so sorry, Tyoma. I failed my brother, and now I fail all of you again.”
Kostya lifts up his face, his light blue eyes glisten with tears. “What are you talking about, Dad? It’s not your fault.” He shakes his head before looking back at his sibling’s body. “I’m supposed to be the big brother—”
Your dear husband's hold tightens around you. "Stop it. The two of you. It's none of your fault." He cups your cheek gently and raises your head so you look up at him. "Luka, you're a perfect husband and I would never be able to picture being with someone else but you," he says softly.
"Yeah, you're a great dad, Dad," Kostya says, looking down at his dead sibling again. "And I know they also felt the same."
Tyoma nods. "We'll find the ones responsible and we'll have our revenge," he says coldly and Kostya's eyes harden as he snarls.
"Who," he growls out. "I'll hunt them down."
You want revenge as much as they do, but you don't think you can handle it if either your husband or your eldest child got killed because of this endeavour. You've lost too much in this life.
Gripping the front of his hoodie, you plead him, "Please... Just let the lieutenants and their soldiers handle it."
"But, Dad!" Kostya exclaims but quiets down when Tyoma sends him a look. Sometimes, you hate how they can communicate with each other with just a look.
"Okay... Okay," Tyoma reassures you softly. "I'll send them to try poking around to find out who did this."
"I'll reach out to the Aikawas and all our other contacts," Kostya says, promptly standing up and pulling out his phone before stepping out of the room.
"Tyoma..." you say, straightening back to your full height. "I know Kostya... He's gonna try find the ones who did this himself... I can't... I can't lose him or you or anyone. I don't think I'll be able to take it."
Your husband steps closer and lays his head on your left shoulder. You instinctively bring your arms around him. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, drawing comfort from each other's company.
"There's no use trying to stop him," he sighs. "I won't let him get out of my sight, so try not to worry too much, okay? Last thing we'd want is for you to get sick."
He lifts his head and looks up at you with such love and devotion, it manages to soothes the pain racking through your heart slightly.
#asks#anon ask#drabble#AU#vendetta sequel spinoff#char: konstantin#char: luka#char: big brother#char: jackal#if: vendetta#vendetta if#if vendetta#if game#if wip#dashingdon#choicescript#hosted games#choice of games#cyoa#cyoa game#interactive fiction#interactive games#interactive story#interactive novel
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how would Kostya react to meeting aire and echo (being an experiment herself)?
Unsure at first, perhaps a bit off put by them because seeing other experiments might bring up bad memories. She would get over it and start to be friendly to them. Its not their fault, and they are just kids She would probably be more OK with Aire as she more calm, compared to Echo who is energetic.
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I was tagged by @movrings
Tagging @deardarlingthings @mexicangela @mtfunkzoo @roamwithahungryheart @existential-labrador and anyone else who wants to do it. No pressure!
Take this test https://openpsychometrics.org/tests/characters/ and present yourself with who you got:
I definitely did this three times 😂
These are the (first 20) results of the recommended:
1. Eliza Hamilton (Hamilton): 93%
2. Valentine Wiggin (Ender's Game): 93%
3. Pam Beesly (The Office): 92%
4. Belle French (Once Upon a Time): 92%
5. Dana Polk (The Cabin in the Woods): 91%
6. Andrea Sachs (The Devil Wears Prada): 91%
7. Anastasia Steele (Fifty Shades of Grey): 91%
8. Mia Dolan (La La Land): 91%
9. Georgiana Darcy (Pride and Prejudice): 90% (awww cute!)
10. Sun-Hwa Kwon (LOST): 90%
11. Ariadne (Inception): 90%
12. Rosalind Walker (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina): 90%
13. Mary Margaret Blanchard (Once Upon a Time): 90%
14. Penny (Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog): 90%
15. Jane Villanueva (Jane the Virgin): 90% (yeah!)
16. Lexi Howard (Euphoria): 90% (honestly so me lol)
17. Nina Locke (Locke & Key): 90%
18. Rita Hanson (Groundhog Day): 90%
19. Egwene al'Vere (Wheel of Time): 90%
20. Beth March (Little Women): 89% (I’m definitely Beth)
The (first 20) results of the quick version:
1. Jane Villanueva (Jane the Virgin): 99% (okay fair haha)
2. Mary Margaret Blanchard (Once Upon a Time): 96%
3. Hazel Grace Lancaster (The Fault in Our Stars): 96%
4. Prairie Johnson (The OA): 96%
5. Lexi Howard (Euphoria): 95%
6. Pam Beesly (The Office): 94%
7. Katara (Avatar: The Last Airbender): 94%
8. Belle French (Once Upon a Time): 94%
9. Mia Dolan (La La Land): 94%
10. Nina Locke (Locke & Key): 94%
11. Rita Hanson (Groundhog Day): 94%
12. Egwene al'Vere (Wheel of Time): 94%
13. Marge Simpson (The Simpsons): 93% (okaaay…I’m definitely more Lisa lol)
14. Ariadne (Inception): 93%
15. Kate Pearson (This Is Us): 93%
16. Bonnie Bennett (The Vampire Diaries): 93%
17. Eliza Hamilton (Hamilton): 93%
18. Penny (Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog): 93%
19. Manny Delgado (Modern Family): 93%
20. Jane Eyre (Jane Eyre): 93%
And the (first 20) results of the exhaustive version:
1. Emma Pillsbury (Glee): 85% (again, fair)
2. Amy Antsler (Booksmart): 84%
3. Anita 'Needy' Lesnicki (Jennifer's Body): 84%
4. Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place): 83%
5. Clare Edwards (Degrassi: The Next Generation): 83%
6. Bruce Banner (Marvel Cinematic Universe): 82%
7. Lexi Howard (Euphoria): 82% (Lexi in the top ten all three times. A pattern)
8. Nick Carraway (The Great Gatsby): 81%
9. Linus Caldwell (Ocean's 11): 81%
10. Columbus (Zombieland): 81%
11. Nina Sayers (Black Swan): 81%
12. Charlie Kelmeckis (The Perks of Being a Wallflower): 81%
13. Drew Baylor (Elizabethtown): 81%
14. Hazel Grace Lancaster (The Fault in Our Stars): 81%
15. Evan (Superbad): 80%
16. Matt Saracen (Friday Night Lights): 80%
17. Timothy McGee (NCIS): 80%
18. Randall Pearson (This Is Us): 80%
19. Konstantin 'Kostya' Levin (Anna Karenina): 80%
20. Vanya Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy): 80%
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There's a difference being hit by a Lucario's Aura attack and a human's.
One from a Lucario hurts more. One from a human also hurts, but usually it ends in a shorter hospitalization.
#pokemon headcanons#pokemon moves#lucario#I am well-aware that it was my fault and I offered myself up as a target.#HOW-FUCKING-EVER#Neither Flynn nor I expected him to be anywhere near that strong.#Anyways here's to the five year anniversary of The Time Kostya Broke Half Of His Ribcage.#I'm smarter now I swear.
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A photo of young Kostya and his arms, just because.
#melovin#mélovin#kostya bocharov#fetus kostya#what a handsome lad#look at those arms#i should feel bad cos he's very young here#but ain't my fault he so sexy#send help
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Hey, what’s up?
My sister hates me already because I don’t want to shut up and I talk about Melovin all the time 😅🙃
How’s your day going?
#personal#my sister hates me#melovinators#melovin#kostya#kostya bocharov#sisters love#iTS NOT MY FAULT OKAY????
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It had been a while since Valentyna had written through the night. One of her first nights in Thailand, when she’d been far too warm to sleep properly, she’d stumbled out of bed, the heat in the air, the oppressive thickness to it giving her imagination just the fuel it had needed. She didn’t focus on her main story that night--a break from her frigid home life. Instead, she’d written about air thick with spirits, with the ghosts of the past, and drowning in the history of a place she’d never known. By the time she’d finished, she’d glanced outside, recognizing the baby pink on the horizon--morning. That had been a night of inspiration.
Last night had been grief, shock, anger. A deep set rage that had no other way to let itself out.
Konstantin had always been selfish; she had no qualms about that. She may be one of the youngest of her family, but she didn’t fancy herself a fool. He was someone who cared more about his losses than the losses of those he claimed to love. He was so lost in his own desires that he often didn’t see what was right before him. Unreasonable, even at the best of times, with his own incompetency hanging over his head like a noose. Still, beyond his faults, Kostya had been her brother. He was supposed to be her family. He was still supposed to care about those beyond him, even if it was less than himself. He, who’d she’d gone to for help so often in the past... And he hadn’t even thought to leave his own family a letter.
Shock, when she’d heard he had gone, tasted like the sharp tang of blood in her mouth from biting her tongue, swallowing back a reaction while her heart raced in her chest. Later in the evening, her grief had tasted like the stinging burn of vodka, her own family’s, in her mouth. Like the salt of the tears she’d not been able to hold back. Only for a moment, though... Her anger had looked like red ink, marking up her latest story, furied pen rewriting a scene with the monster of her story. She still felt sick, as she remember her own father’s biting tone from the page she’d written. She’d needed to be scolded for trusting the intentions of a traitor. Perhaps she’d forgotten how little family truly needed to care, at the end of the day.
The morning’s glow wasn’t pink like the last time. Fitting, since that morning felt like some childish daydream. She stood from her little desk, holed away in a corner of her room, and properly stretched for the first time since she’d sat down the night before. Eight long hours, and the relief she got did little to soothe her in the slightest. She rolled her neck, eyes shutting as a sigh left her. Her hands were aching, curling and uncurling at her sides in search of some relief. As her eyes opened, accepting stiffness and discomfort as the new normal for her day, she gazed out of the window. A hazy morning, foggy, with threatening dark clouds on the horizon... Fitting, truly.
Pausing for a moment, she turned on her heel, moving to grab a pack of cigarettes from underneath one of her pillows. Guilt pooled at the pit of her stomach--she’d told her siblings she was cutting herself off, truly, this time. And she’d meant it at the time. The pack was meant to remain buried under that pillow, perhaps to be thrown out by a maid who got too carried away with her room. But it hadn’t been, and now she couldn’t stop her hands from clutching the half-gone pack, lighter found easily in her side drawer. One thing after another, and she was grabbing shoes, heading out of the door, walking, walking faster, eager... Pushing open the doors leading outside. She hardly made it much farther than that.
Stinking of last night’s vodka and sweat, she lit the cigarette, leaning back against the wall, the morning air hitting her. The scent of tobacco, at least, was stronger. The sound of the doors opening after her startled her, and as she glanced over at the intruding person, she lifted the hand with the cigarette in a tired greeting. “--It’s early to be out,” she mentioned, voice gravely as she finally brought the cigarette to her lips.
an open starter for the war of royals verse
#;; & character : valentyna popova#;; & verse : war of royals#tw blood mention#tw alcohol mention#tw smoking
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Bad Lottie - rude and uncalled for. Why have my soft boys broken up ? What happened ? You can’t just leave that in the tags and expect no one to notice. Was it catholic guilt ? Some third party being unnecessary and getting into one of their heads? Francisco being called away ? What was the reason ??? Thank you for the beautiful F/K ABO - it was exactly how I pictured it. Kind Lottie, Gracious — until now. WTF
I thought I was being sneaky with those tags! I didn’t think that anyone would read it, they were just my ramblings upon seeing sad but beautiful Kostya!
Fransisco ended their relationship. The head priest began planting seeds of doubt inside Garupe’s mind about his ‘sinful’ relationship with Konstantin Levin—a wealthy landowner—because a priest shouldn’t devote such time to a partner, nevermind one so greedy. Garupe knows that Kostya is anything but greedy, it’s not his fault that he’s a wealthy man. He goes into the fields to tend to the crops with his workers!
But Garupe feels lust for Kostya. They do not live together and have never done more than simple kissing but Garupe wants more; he wants to feel Kostya’s coarse hands all over his body and taste him and be loved in every way by him. And he shouldn’t want that. They aren’t married. It isn’t right, it isn’t pure. And Garupe must do right by god.
So Garupe leaves Kostya. Both men weep at the separation in which Kostya begs Garupe not to go and offers marriage to save them but Garupe can’t. It’s like he’s been brainwashed by the church and his mentors to believe that loving another human is impure and wrong—perhaps they’ve used some rather harsh and violent ways to impart their teachings on young Garupe? Whips and forced fasting and ice baths.
Kostya is utterly heartbroken. Garupe is too but he believes that he’s done this for the best but he’s forced into heavy work at the church to keep him occupied. Maybe another priest, one of Garupe’s actual friends, comes in search of Kostya and tells him what’s been going on, and Kostya goes to the High Priest (idk how this stuff works!) to investigate the goings on at the local church and finds them to be horrid! Poor Garupe is starving and neglected and being treated like a prisoner! Kostya saves him and takes him back to his home and nurses him back to health!
Whilst he’s washing Garupe’s hair in his bathtub, Garupe just says ‘yes’. Kostya doesn’t know what he means. Garupe tells him that he’s agreeing to marry him if the offer is still open. It is, Kostya tells him and kisses him so deeply and so desperately. He’d be honoured.
#i got carried away i'm so sorry#kylux adjacent#fransisco garupe#konstantin levin#kostya#father garupe#garostya
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2020 Weekly Ficlet 51/52(? We’ll see?)
Ever At Your Side, Part 7/7 (Chekov) [New Trek/Pokemon Crossover. Because Why not.]
(Part 1-Kirk; Part 2-Spock; Part 3-Bones; Part 4-Uhura; Part 5-Scotty; Part 6-Sulu)
-
Beginnings:
Starfleet Academy may have been filled with future officers—the best and the brightest in their chosen fields, young men and women who would make the fleet’s tomorrow even more impressive than its today—but they were still young men and women, filled with the hopes, dreams, ambitions, confidence, and energy that comes with that phase of life.
And some were even younger than that…
Pavel Andreievich Chekov had only been at the Academy for a few months, but already the young teen was growing used to the variety of reactions his presence seemed to prompt (the price he paid for starting so young that he’d be graduating at the same age that most people entered the Academy): some seemed impressed, some mystified, some even jealous, and few, if any, seemed capable of carrying on a normal conversation with him (the closest most came was slipping into an ‘older sibling’ sort of dynamic, which he didn’t mind, per se, but it wasn’t the same things a friend). Frankly, he was just grateful that they’d managed to find a cadet’s uniform that actually fit him, otherwise he knew that he’d be constantly mistaken for someone’s visiting younger brother.
But today was not a day for any of those thoughts: the good or the bad. Today was a day of good weather and no classes or looming projects, so the thirteen-year-old knew exactly how he was going to spend it: with his partner, Kostya.
…
The little Yamper was an absolute ball of energy—as were most young Electric-Types—and raced around his feet, yapping and jumping, as soon as he was released. Pavel grinned at his partner before pulling out Kostya’s favorite toy: a red-and-gold ball already showing tooth marks and electric burns a few weeks after first seeing use. The little Electric-Type dog went nuts, standing on his hind legs, front paws beating at the air before he overbalanced and tumbled onto his back. Kostya scrambled upright, who body trembling and little sparks running through his fur already.
Pavel tossed the toy and Kostya was after it in an instant—fast for his squat, short-limbed build, if slow and clumsy for The Electric-Type, then came racing back, prize clamped proudly in his jaws. But rather than drop it for another throw (or make Pavel wrestle it from him, as he sometimes did), Kostya didn’t stop running, instead launching himself up at his trained while still holding the ball.
Pavel wasn’t quite expecting a full-speed Yamper to the chest, and it caught him off-guard, knocking him to the ground as Kostya barked happily (dropping the ball), then began licking the boy’s face. (There were little static shocks, yes, as the young pokemon was not yet in full control of its abilities, but nothing dangerous: his hair would likely be on end for the rest of the day, little else.)
Laughing, he managed to grab a hold of Kostya and sit up, but he couldn’t help flushing in embarrassment when he saw a group of second- and third-year female cadets walk by, giggling and murmuring ‘aw’ to each other.
(He loved his partner, and loved to play, but he’d also like to be taken seriously…someday…)
------
Meetings:
Pavel’s family was large, loving, and loud—and they weren’t about to let their little prodigy go off to Starfleet Academy (four years early!) without a proper celebratory send-off.
The party was colorful, chaotic, and so quintessentially them, but that almost made it harder on the young teen, with his nerves mounting every moment and no clear words for the storm of emotions he was feeling. This was his home but the Academy—Starfleet—was his dream and was he really ready to trade one for the other so soon? Or what if he failed out and had to come back after everyone was so excited for him, had invested so much in him going?
Before he could really begin spiraling, however, his parents and younger sisters pulled him aside, away from the storm of aunts, uncles, cousins, and individuals who were considered family but may or may not be actual blood relatives. Then, in a quiet corner at last, they handed him a small package.
“From all of us,” his father said with a smile as Pavel unwrapped the small box.
“Yeah!” chirped his youngest sister as he pulled out the red-and-white ball. “We didn’t want you to be lonely without us!”
“Lonely? I was looking forward to the peace and quiet!” he teased, ruffling her hair before releasing his new partner—
“Yamp!” Yamp!”
“I know he’s small now,” his mother hastily broke in, “but that way he won’t be as much trouble in the dorms. And when he’s all grown—”
She didn’t even have to finish, as he was familiar with the line: he could picture the Boltund this Yamper would someday be, mature and impressive and dignified as it paced alongside its trainer (it was a little tricky to picture his adult self—hadn’t even yet settled on whether he would go science or command track—but surely he’d be confident and capable and not at all homesick).
“I love him; he’s perfect,” Pavel declared, and as one the family cluster moved in for a group hug—which Kostya quickly wriggled his way into the middle of, already knowing that this was his family, too.
------
(2009)
Things had been happening quickly since the moment they’d received Vulcan’s first distress call and had been dispatched in the fledgling fleet—hardly the first day that they’d expected, but exactly the sort of situation that they’d been trained for.
But then—
Then the Enterprise, delayed in her launch by a (miraculous) beginner error, arrived not on a battlefield, but a graveyard. Pavel could feel the realization ripple across the bridge that the only surviving members of that year’s graduating class were the ones aboard this single vessel—the flagship, yes, but now it seemed too small, it’s crew far too few to be the only ones alive…
But there was no time to mourn the dead with the fate of a planet—a people—hanging on their next acts, and captain Pike wasted no time in dispatching a crew to the drill while going himself to negotiate (or try to) with the strange Romulans, leaving Lt. Commander Spock in charge.
As he sat in the Navigator’s seat, Chekov did everything in his power not to squirm or fidget as adrenaline and tension mounted without release. He focused on the feed they were getting from Kirk and Sulu, wondering if this vibrating energy begging for an outlet was how Kostya felt all the time. (It certainly would explain the Yamper’s constant running, jumping, and otherwise frantic movements.) Still, there was nothing to do but put all his focus on not seeming like an antsy child.
Then, then—there was something he could do! “I can do that!” The cry tore from him without thought; without waiting for permission, he sprang from the navigator’s seat and launched himself full-speed from the bridge, entirely focused on being helpful, on being useful, on contributing (on saving two of his classmates—two of the few that’d learned to treat him the same as the rest of their peers, and not simply as ‘the gifted kid’.)
Kostya had been dashing after him from the moment he’d gone into motion, but as fast as the Electric-Type was for his size and build, his legs were too short and his paws didn’t have the best traction on the ship’s slick flooring. He tried to keep pace with his racing trainer, but ultimately fell further and further behind. Still, he kept trying, even as he skittered around corners and slammed into walls, a surprisingly determined expression on the normally-silly face, as if the Pokemon knew the intensity and stakes of the moment.
Chekov felt bad for running ahead of his loyal partner, but lives were on the line and he could help and he did help! Only…Only, moments later, when he tried to help again, he—
Failed.
Suddenly, the word was so much worse than a flunked test (that could probably be retaken or else made up for) or even the idea of not being enough, of having to go back home—he’d failed, and now someone was dead because of him.
(Spock’s mother was dead and Chekov was terrified to even imagine what that loss felt like, and it was his fault, he was to blame: he’d caught Sulu and Kirk, mid free-fall, so why couldn’t he have caught her and saved her, too? Had—had he killed her? Of course he had: her blood was on his hands, why had he thought he belonged in Starfleet…)
In the ensuing chaos, no one looked for him for a while; no one noticed him ducking into an alcove just around the corner from the transporter room, shaky legs unable to carry him much further.
No one saw the exhausted, stumbling Yamper, ears drooping, worm his way into his trainer’s arms and gently lick at the silent tears, offering what comfort he could—they both had tried so hard, only to fail today.
Could they do better tomorrow?
(Continued on AO3 )
#Star Trek 2009#nost#Pavel Chekov#ensign chekov#pokemon#pokemon crossover#hypothetical pokemon team#well really just one partner#because its fun#my post#writing challenge
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BOOK REPORT 2020
I’ve always been a sparse reader but 2018 and 19 had me accelerate my reading habits to the point that I think I’ve read the most books this year that I ever had. I suppose I’ll count them all here, just to make sure!! I said something or other about the Moomin books at the end of last year’s Inkt*b*r so, this being the month of traditions, let’s make a new one by tallying up my literary “yays” and “nays” at the end of the season.
Video game text boxes don’t count, online publication articles don’t count, psych/aesthetic papers and 1000 page biosemiotic textbooks don’t count, but they have sure pursued me in my sleep during the year as well. This list is really mostly for my benefit (and no I won’t get a Goodreads account tyvm), so under the cut you’ll find a list of titles in roughly the order I read them, along with short notes. I’ve done longer reviews of these books elsewhere and I need not bore you with them here.
K. Stanislavski - An Actor Prepares (1936) I started reading this book in 2012, then dropped it because I couldn’t understand it at the time. Kostya attends acting school and gets lessons from The Director. He learns to sleep like his cat.
K. Stanislavski - Building a Character (1949) Supposed to have been published along the first one in a single volume. Kostya continues his lessons. A lot of thoughts on walking, gaits, eloquent speech, phrasing, etc. Both these books are wonderful looks into the author’s artistic life. It’s very heartfelt and down to earth, considering it’s quasi-fiction made to edutain. Very inspiring.
M. Polanyi - The Tacit Dimension (1966) A book on the origin of knowledge, the integrated performance of skills, the emergence of life and other phenomena in the universe, marginal control between levels of reality, the moral death of the communist regime caused by the unbridled lucidity of the Enlightenment, the responsibilities of science, and thoughts about open societies of the future. This is one of the two shortest books I’ve read in the list, it covers all of this under 130 pages and manages to do it well.
B. Rainov - Eros and Thanatos (1971) A communist propaganda book attacking western mass media and escapist culture. It gets no points for being correct, as the author mostly swiped the truths from french philosophers. Very variable in its intellectual prowess, almost as if it picks its arguments in order to push an agenda. Informative but also infuriating. Also expectedly homophobic.
J. Hoffmeyer - Signs of Meaning in the Universe (1997) A somewhat pop-sciency book about biosemiotics. Forgettable but also humbly written and explicative.
A. Noë - Varieties of Presence (2012) An unimpressive book about sensory perception. Noë’s theory on sensorimotor action is worth considering but the book is poorly edited and mostly spent arguing with peers.
E. Fudge - Quick Cattle & Dying Wishes (2018) A look into a registry of last wills and testaments from the period 1630 - 1650 in Essex. The book is about early modern people’s relationship to their animals and what they meant to them in life, as well as in death. Fudge’s argumentation is sharp and her style is modern. Being a scholarly book it is really overwhelming with the footnotes sometimes, but otherwise satisfying. One gets beautiful glimpses of family relationships, thoughts and feelings that people now dead for 400 years once held.
G. Márquez - One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967) The Buendia family get all their sons killed. The Banana Company sucks. People love each other. A lot happens, generally. It is a hundred years, after all. The upper class sucks.
K. Polanyi - The Great Transformation (1944) The Industrial Revolution sucked. England sucks. It reduced all its workers to subhuman wretches. Every single decision made after the empiricists made labour and land fictional commodities has been a band-aid to the essential contradiction that the market economy wants to annihilate its human host. Laissez-faire sucks. It caused WW1. Fuck everything. Fun book.
R. Coyne - Peirce of Architects (2019) Talks about architecture and the ideas of logician/father of pragmatism Charles Sanders Peirce (1839-1914). Informative about both. Brisk and not very in-depth, but to its benefit rather than its detriment.
R. Williams - Culture and Society (1958) A survey of the 18th and 19th century England, and the emergence of the concept of “culture” as defence against the horrors that the Industrial Revolution inflicted upon society. Consists of some two dozen outlines of contributors to the romanticist tradition, from Adam Smith, through Ruskin, to Orwell, their beliefs, contributions and literary works. Very eloquent and interesting.
E. Fudge - Brutal Reasoning (2006) A fantastic book about much: early modern views of the difference between a human and an animal, the Christian discourse of reason, the logical fallacies that lead to its implosion, the advantageous use of dehumanisation by imperialists in other to genocide natives, Montague and Shakespeare, and the ethical hell of animal murder that led Descartes to deem animals as machines so as to allow his buddies to perform live vivisections on dogs without feeling guilty about it (this is the real reason, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise). There is even space for an entire chapter about an intelligent horse who could tell a virgin from a whore and learned Latin at Oxford. This is my favorite book I read this year, so it gets an extra long review.
R. Williams - The Long Revolution (1961) A sequel to Culture and Society that’s worse. The start and end are brilliant but the middle sags. It contains some historical reviews of English cultural elements, like the newspaper industry, the Standard English vernacular and the realist novel of the 19th century, but honestly if the book was just about about the creative state (intro) and Marxism (outro) it would’ve been fine, if not better.
P. Klee - The Thinking Eye (1956 & 1964) Bauhaus boy in 1920s Germany! Love you Klee, xoxo. You really have to read his thoughts to understand his work imho. You can appreciate it just fine on the surface level, but his completely eccentric (though very self-consistently logical and sharp) views on art creation open a new outlook into his primitive approach.
F D.K. Ching - Architecture: Form, Space & Order (1979) A staple book for architecture students. Or so I hear. Steeped in gestalt psychology. Very good, though not necessarily stuff I don’t know already. Very nice looking pencil illustrations, Ching looks to be an accomplished technical draughtsman.
H. Wölfflin - Principles of Art History (1915) A strong contender for second place in the tier list. The book examines the transition between Classical to Baroque in Italy and Germany (and all the Germany clones, like the Netherlands). It is a systematic, precise aesthetic treatise that reveals much by conceptualizing and grouping characteristic art features in which the two styles differ, then explaining their bearing on their decorative content as well as the outlook on life that they embody. Lovely.
M. Porter - Windows of the Soul: The Art of Physiognomy in European Culture 1470-1780 (2005) A historiographical treatise about early modern views on physiognomy. The book deals mainly with the extant literature on the subject and tries to gleam what it could mean for the customs at the time - palmistry reading, occultism, persecution of the “gypsies” and the Christian scientific project of attaining meaning. Macro- and microcosms, as above so below, hermeticism, that sort of stuff. It’s an interesting read but it’s too long, the quality of writing varies greatly from chapter to chapter, and it is far too expensive. Wouldn’t recommend it.
S. C.Figueiredo - Inventing Comics: A New Translation of Rodolphe Töpffer's Reflections on Graphic Storytelling, Media Rhetorics, & Aesthetic Practice (2017) This is the shortest book I read, mainly translating Töpffer’s 1845 "Essay on Physiognomy" along with giving his biography and some other paraphernalia. It’s not worth the price for the content contained within, but Töpffer is the father of the modern comic book, so I thought I’d learn what his philosophy was. On that front, at least, very interesting! If only I knew French I’d save myself the trouble and read the original, which is now public domain.
D. Bayles - Art & Fear (1985) A useless self-help book. Not entirely bullshit but completely banal from all angles. Shouldn’t even be on this list but I did read it, so...
I. Allende - The House of the Spirits (1982) A child rapist gets a redemption arc. Well, kind of. All women are queens. Men are awful. The poor are wretches and it’s their fault. Oh no, the communists are going to take our land! Pinochet’s concentration camps sucked. Overall a better magical realism book than 100 Years of Solitude, to be honest. Very well written characters.
R. Arnheim -To the Rescue of Art: Twenty-Six Essays (1992) What it says on the tin. Wide range of subjects, from art appreciation, to schizophrenic and autistic child art, to gestalt psychology, to philosophy of science, to Picasso’s Guernica and the fate of abstract art, to reflections on the 20th century and the writer’s life in pre-nazi Germany and America. I love Arnheim, I’ve read many of his books and I’m glad I picked this one up.
R. Arnheim - Film as Art (1957) A book about cinematography, one of his earliest, actually, mostly a personal translation from an original German book he published in 1933. Somewhat outdated, but foundational. Not as informative to me but I don’t regret reading it.
G. E. Lessing - Laocoon; or, On the Limits of Painting and Poetry (1766) A book by a greekaboo about a fucking dumb poem and a statue of a naked dad and his two sons getting fucked by snakes. It’s misogynistic and authoritarian in several places, and altogether awfully full of itself. 100 pages of interesting observations stretched over 400 pages of boring Greco-Roman literary discourse.
L. Tolstoy - Childhood, Boyhood, Youth (1852, 1854, 1856) One story serialized in a magazine then later collated in three separate books. Aristocrat boy grows up in pre-revolution Russia. A very, very relatable coming-of-age story. Tolstoy is a lovely writer.
F. Dostoevsky - Poor Folk (1846) An epistolary novel consisting of letters between literally Dobby from Harry Potter and his maybe-niece, whom he wants to fuck. Starts bad, gets better by the end. A bit rough and tumble for Dostoevsky’s first, so I forgive him for wasting my time a little bit. A decent character study of the middle/lower classes, at least.
L. Tolstoy - Family Happiness (1859) An amazing romance novel for the skill employed in writing it. It is very short yet delivers so much emotion. Rather simple narrative at its core, but executed with such bravado one cannot help but be impressed.
F. Dostoevsky - The Double (1846) In which the Author starts swinging. A pathetic, neurodivergent old man gets used and abused by the people around him and nobody cares. Satirical and biting, better than his first.
A. Lindgren - Pippi Longstocking (1945) I last read this when I was 6 years old so I thought I’d refresh my memory. I remember disliking the book then and I can see why. Pippi’s kind of an asshole. Still very enjoyable to read. I know it’s meant for a younger audience’s reading level yet I cannot help comparing it with Tove Jansson’s books and how much better the prose in there is. Sorry.
***
I think that about rounds them up! That’s about 30 books, give or take. For next year I’m hoping to:
Finish Tolstoy’s and Dostoevsky’s bibliographies
Read more econ and marxist writing (low personal priority but i have to, in THIS economy *rolls eyes*)
Finish the Tintin and Moomin comics, as well as Jhonen Vasquez’s collection of edgy humor
Read more about botany and biology in general
Get started on Faulkner’s and William Golding’s bibliographies
Read more children’s books
Search for more Latin American fiction from the Boom
Read more psych/aesthetics/pedagogy literature, which seems to have become my main area of interest
Thanks for sticking till the end of the list, hope you’ve learned something and maybe you’ll pick one of these up if it took your interest. I don’t have to be a philistine just because I’m drawing video game fanart! Bye now!
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“ i refuse to believe you don’t know better kostya ! ” she let out a laugh as she gently retrieved ekaterina and passed him a towel to wipe himself up. “ it’s your own fault for holding her above you. there’s facewash in the ensuite if you want to wash your face. ”
@kcstyv
#i dont know where this came from but the thought wouldnt leave me#thus u get kostya getting puked on by baby katya#lmao#╰ ✧ ── interaction.#╰ ✧ ── kostya 006.
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Myth & Kat Read WS
before i dive in, a quick request: please do not send this to the author, as this is not meant for her but for any and all readers. we censor the name of the author, the characters, and the book title to help prevent her from accidentally stumbling across them thanks to tumblr’s fucked algorithm. my inbox is always open for anyone with reactions, questions, or thoughts as i read, so feel free to hop in there if you don’t want to reply directly to this post.
if you don’t want to see spoilers, block the tag “ws spoilers” and Myth and i are both using the tag “myth & kat read ws” to keep everything organized. we’re calling this a practice run for when we read CCity together when it releases next year, so bear with us while we figure out what works best. Myth’s post on WS can be found here, and her comments will be at the bottom of this post.
and to preface this, i go into every chapter with an open mind, but (as Myth points out) i did get more annoyed the more i read, so make of that what you will
and with that out of the way...
Chapter 1
this is a multi-POV book and chapter 1 begins with Nadya peeling potatoes. riveting. apparently people really like this beginning, so i’ve heard, but eh.
also, this is a personal nitpick, but i’m not the biggest fan of authors using the character’s first and last name when introducing them at the very beginning of the book, a la:
Nadez/hda Lap/teva glared up at the mountain of potatoes threatening to avalanche down over the table.
we’re five 2-3 sentence paragraphs in and already we’re supposed to feel fear for what’s happening, despite the only normal to exist so far is that Nadya is peeling potatoes and grumbling about the clerics who care for her (and who we’re supposed to care for later on, when Nadya starts worrying about their deaths, despite the fact we’ve met none of them)
“Did you hear that?” Konst/antin acted like she hadn’t spoken. His paring knife hung limp in his fingers as he listened.
grammar. why.
“Did you hear that?” Konst/antin asked, freezing with his paring knife pressed to a potato.
was that so difficult?
She tried to be glib, but the idea of the High Prince anywhere near the monastery made her shiver. He was rumored to be an extremely powerful blood mage, one of the most terrifying in all of Trana/via, a land rife with heretics.
ahhh i love a good exposition dump first thing. this could easily have waited until later on, when the High Prince (why is that capitalized) actually makes an appearance. at the very least, she could’ve just left it as “but the High Prince was rumored to be an extremely powerful blood mage, making her shiver at the thought of him attacking the monastery.” it’s not good, but better (as always, when i rewrite things, i try to stay with the author’s words rather than using ones of my own, simply to show that it can be done with their words--it’s not the words’ fault, but the author’s). plus, we know nothing about the monastery or why Nadya is even there, apart from peeling potatoes and making bad potato jokes that i’m sure ED hoped would add some levity to the book, so we have no reason to feel worried about the High Prince making a surprise appearance.
Filling Father Alexei’s washing bowl with a red dye that looked like blood, though, that was what had done them in.
Blood wasn’t a thing to be made light of, not in these times.
the chapter should’ve started with this prank so we’d 1) have more of a connection to Nadya and Kostya’s friendship, 2) see more of the world-building in the sense of how important blood is, and 3) actually meet one of the clerics we’re supposed to care for. also, please just write it like this, ED:
“Filling Father Alexei’s washing bowl with a red dye that looked like blood had done them in.”
again, not great, but it’s better
Father Alexei’s rage didn’t end in the cellars. After they scaled Potato Mountain—if they scaled Potato Mountain—they still had hours’ worth of holy texts to copy in the scriptorium. Nadya’s hands were already cramping just thinking about it.
this? this isn’t enough to make us care for him. in fact, the way Nadya talks about him makes us not care about him, even though we’re supposed to worry about him later on in this chapter and the next. (Potato Mountain just hurts my brain. is this supposed to pass for humor?)
Cannons only meant one thing: blood magic. And blood magic meant Trana/vians. For a century a holy war had raged between Kaly/azin and Trana/via. Trana/vians didn’t care that their blood magic profaned the gods. If they had their way, the gods’ touch would be eradicated from Kaly/azin like it had been from Trana/via. But the war had never reached farther than the Kaly/azin border. Until now. If Nadya could hear the cannons, that meant the war was slowly swallowing Kaly/azin alive. Inch by bloody inch it was seeping into the heart of Nadya’s country and bringing death and destruction with it.
why couldn’t she have found a better way to tell us this than an ill-timed info dump? we’re supposed to be worrying about an attack (with all the number of times cannons are mentioned) and yet here we’re being given a lesson.
also, i’m particularly not fond of these four sentences in particular:
But the war had never reached farther than the Kaly/azin border. Until now. If Nadya could hear the cannons, that meant the war was slowly swallowing Kaly/azin alive. Inch by bloody inch it was seeping into the heart of Nadya’s country and bringing death and destruction with it.
for one, fragments hurt me on a physical level when they’re used this often, and for another, i don’t care that the war has come, i don’t care that Nadya’s country is being invaded, i don’t care that Trana/vians want the gods eradicated. i’m typically fond of third person, and usually prefer both reading and writing it, but this is all happening so distantly that i might as well be hovering over the entire scene.
Nadya looked at Kostya, whose gaze was flint-eyed but fearful. They were just acolytes with kitchen knives.
they both actually hold their own in the fight, so no idea why this is even here besides trying to build up suspense.
Kostya grabbed her hand and shook his head slowly, his dark eyes solemn.
“Don’t do this, Nadya,” he said.
“If we are attacked, I will not hide,” she replied stubbornly.
“Even if it means a choice between saving this place and the entire kingdom?”
now would be a good time for exposition. if you have to use a reader’s lack of knowledge to build up suspense, especially in chapter 1, especially when you’re bouncing around the truth that anyone would have naturally thought of first irl, you need to revisit your stakes.
so a couple paragraphs before this:
She would protect the only family she had; that was what she was trained for
she was saying that she and Kostya were just acolytes with kitchen knives. if that’s the case, what have they been training in? (and no, i’m still not connected to the monastery at all. we’ve only seen Potato Mountain, the kitchen, and the cellar, though neither of the latter two have been described as clearly as the former, which is a problem bc they’re just floating heads rn)
Nadya had been told the protocol countless times. Move to the back of the chapel. Pray, because that was what she did best. The others would go to the gates to fight. She was to be protected.
we are seeing none of this, fwiw, and i still feel no fear
Can I have that?” Nadya reached for Anna’s dagger. Anna wordlessly handed it to her. It felt solid, not flimsy like the paring knife.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Anna said.
Kostya shot Nadya a pointed look. In the monastery’s hierarchy, Anna—as an ordained priestess—outranked Nadya. If Anna ordered her to go to the sanctuary, she would have no choice but to obey.
if Nadya isn’t supposed to fight, why would Anna hand over the fucking blade in the first place? Nadya also takes off to fight and Anna does nothing to stop her.
Nadya once wished she could blend in with the other Kalyazi orphans at the monastery, but the truth was, for as long as she could remember, when she prayed the gods listened. Miracles happened, magic. It made her valuable. It made her dangerous.
why can’t she blend in? as far as i know, she doesn’t have “i can talk to gods” tattooed on her forehead, so there’s no reason she couldn’t blend in. and for that matter, we’ve met only three people and heard of two more, so how are we to know that Nadya really doesn’t fit in?
this:
To the left ran a path leading to the men’s cells; to the right, another trailed off into the forests where an ancient graveyard that held the bodies of saints centuries gone was kept by the monastery.
should’ve been written like this:
A path on her left led to the men’s cells, the one to her right leading through the forest to an ancient cemetery holding every saint who had once lived in this monastery.
and this:
It snowed most nights—and days—on the top of the Baikkle Mountains.
should’ve been this:
Rarely did it stop snowing on the Baikkle Mountains.
still not great, but still better
Nadya scanned for Father Alexei, finding him at the top of the stairs. The priests and priestesses who trained for battle waited in the courtyard and her heart twisted at just how few of them there were. Her confidence faltered. Barely two dozen against a company of Trana/vians. This was never supposed to happen. The monastery was in the middle of the holy mountains; it was difficult—almost impossible—to reach, especially for those unused to Kaly/azin’s forbidding terrain.
it’s been hinted at that Nadya is in the monastery thanks to her power to commune with gods so she can be protected from those who would use her for that purpose (although why the Trana/vians want her is a mystery, considering they seem to be an atheist culture), so why isn’t she more well-protected? it’s common knowledge the Trana/vians are bred for war, so it shouldn’t come as too great a surprise when they decide to attack the monastery.
Nadya raised her eyebrows expectantly, willing [Father Alexei] to accept her place here. She had to stay. She had to fight. She couldn’t hide in the cellars any longer, not while heretics tore apart her country, her home.
WE HAVE SEEN NONE OF THIS. WHY ARE WE SUPPOSED TO CARE ABOUT HER COUNTRY? WHY DOES SHE CARE ABOUT HER COUNTRY? for that matter, she’s been told that, in the event of an invasion, she needs to hide in order to pray, and yet suddenly Father Alexei is cool with her standing there to fight with him???
How could the Trana/vians know she was there? The only people who knew Nadya existed were in the monastery.
Well … there was the tsar. But he was far, far away in the capital. It was unlikely news of her had spread into Trana/via.
The spell was a ploy for time; if the Trana/vians had a blood mage who could counteract her magic, it wouldn’t last.
her magic is literally given to her by the gods, and yet blood magic can counteract that? beyond that, how can she form the gods’ magic into spellwork in the first place? they’re fucking gods???
But the possibility of a Trana/vian lieutenant or general—a mage promoted because of sheer magical power alone—made her feel like running back into the sanctuary where she belonged.
[The goddess] Marz/enya scoffed at her doubt.
1) does ED realize that the ranks of general and lieutenant are nowhere near each other?
2) yay more immortal beings acting like teenagers. i love when gods scoff
imma rewrite this:
A hard chunk of ice slammed into her back, pain ramming down to her toes. She was thrown onto Kostya and they both went crashing to the ground.
like this:
A chunk of ice slammed into her back and threw her onto Kostya, knocking them both to the ground.
it’s not good, but it’s better and keeps the narration active, not passive.
The courtyard became thick with magic and steel as soldiers swarmed up the stairs.
if the cannons were just firing at the mountain (and the city at its base?), how tf did the soldiers march up 7000 steps in a matter of minutes, especially since Nadya had just frozen the stone? yeah they have blood magic, but it’d take them a few minutes to realize the ice was magicked and not natural.
Panicked prayers to the gods would only be met with more magic; Nadya had to decide for herself how it was used.
she hasn’t once wondered why the gods give her magic. sure she may have accepted it, but this is a book and readers need to at least be aware of the fact she doesn’t know why she has magic (or, if she does, that she knows why)
Pure, white light followed her touch and though she wasn’t entirely sure what it would do, she found out quickly enough when she sliced a Trana/vian soldier. She only caught his arm, but like a poison, the light blackened his flesh at the point of contact.
*squints at Sha/dow & Bone*
She staggered back into Kostya. The urge to drop her voryen needled at her hand.
I killed him. I’ve never killed anyone.
okay but she literally just said that every child of war-torn lands need to know what to do when the enemy comes calling, yet suddenly she’s quibbling over killing an enemy soldier?
Just when she thought she could take no more, [the god] Vece/slav’s presence swept in, enveloping Nadya like a heavy blanket. He soothed out the magic, pushing it away until she could breathe. She hadn’t called on him; he had simply known.
suddenly she doesn’t need to talk to the gods to make them help her? is it too much to ask that we’ll know why???
There were whispers of the Trana/vian High Prince throughout the monastery. A boy made general a mere six months after venturing to the front when he was sixteen years old. One who had used the war to fuel his already terrible grasp of blood magic. A monster.
maybe general means something else in the Trana/vian army, bc there’s no fucking way he would be made a general at age sixteen
It was a slaughter and it was her fault. The Trana/vians wouldn’t be there if not for her. If she died, would that make this massacre worth it?
yeah i don’t really care? she’s still given us nothing to base our feelings about the monastery and everyone in it on. we don’t even really have a reason to care about her yet.
She stared at him, horrified. Run? After everyone she loved had been cut down she was supposed to flee to safety? What would that make her, if she ran to save herself? The monastery was the only home Nadya had ever known.
no matter how many times you tell me that it’s her home, i still don’t care. the chapter started with her complaining about her chores, which was the first impression of her home we got, so why are we suddenly supposed to care?
She couldn’t break free. She could only stumble as Anna pulled her to a mausoleum, kicking the door open. The last thing she saw before Anna pulled her into the dark was Kostya, his body shuddering as another bolt thudded into him.
in case it wasn’t clear, i still don’t care
to conclude, this scene should’ve happened in chapter 2. the book throws us into the action far too quickly, without any buildup to make us see the normal become abnormal, to make us connected with any of the characters who we’re clearly supposed to care for, and does nothing to prove that Nadya really loves the people who look after her. if chapter 1 had started with the prank, sent them to the kitchen to peel potatoes, and ended on the attack beginning, it might’ve been different. i’m always a character reader, so i prefer slower beginnings, but i can sometimes appreciate a fast-paced one. this is not one of those times.
Myth Responds:
Welp, Kat was both more thorough and more annoyed than me, though we agree that we needed more time with the characters to care as much as the book tells us N/ady/a does. Also the awkward phrasing. This really does feel like it should have come later in the book (second or third chapter, maybe?) just to let us understand life and form a connection with other people. K/osty/a could have been a fully realized character who we mourned. We all know I’m not usually a fan of Look At This Feeling kind of writing, either.
THAT BEING SAID. I’m hopeful and nobody can take that away from me!
Bonus for Tulio gif.
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Apologies/part 6
(This is actually parts 6 and 7. I'm tired. But the story is finished. @handmadecyanide @soldier-of-arstotzka )
"But I do worry about it!" She almost shouted, her voice raising just enough that other people began to take notice. "I...I feel bad about it." Oh no. There was a tear. They were falling. She was crying. Now she really couldn't look him in the eyes.
"Xena?" He almost reached out to her, but thought better of it.
"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that!" She was shaking. She was miserable. She wanted to go home.
"Xena calm down." Kostya's voice was gentle.
She was so distracted by her inner turmoil that she didn't feel him grab her shoulders, nor did she notice him guide her to an alley way. She didn't object when he made her sit down, leaning against a brick wall.
"Xena. Its okay. I'm not mad at you." He was knelt in front of her, head dipped slightly as he focused on her face.
She tried to pull herself together, brushing away the hair which had hidden her face.
"It wasn't your fault." Xena choked out.
Kostya was genuinely confused. He wasn't sure what she was talking about.
"It wasn't your fault I was angry." Her voice was quiet and wavered strongly as she spoke.
Kostya shook his head lightly. "It doesn't matter."
"I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"It happens."
She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry you had to help me."
For some reason he couldn't place, that sentence hurt him. Something cold and sick twisted in his stomach.
"Xena." He struggled to find the words. "I'm not- you shouldn't be- look." He took a deep breath. "I will never be upset over helping you when you need it, okay? If you're in trouble, I'll help you. Don't be sorry for needing help, don't be sorry for getting help."
She didn't look convinced.
"You were in trouble. I was worried about you. I decided, of my own volition, to help you."
"Why?" Her response was quick, breathy. She wouldn't look him in the eyes.
"Why not?" He asked. "You're a kid, and a good one at that. What kind of person would I be if I just let you get beat up and did nothing, hmm?"
She didn't answer him. She didn't look at him.
"Xena I'm not angry with you. I don't regret helping you."
She was silent still.
"I do, however, have questions about those men."
Silence.
"Friends?"
"...no."
Something about the way she said it, hesitant, breathy, softly, it scared him.
"They won't leave me alone." Her voice still wavered, but it was louder now. "They've been following me around and bugging me all week."
Kostya frowned. He was beginning to put together the pieces now. "And they were the reason for your sour mood?"
She nodded slightly.
"They've been bugging you? What have they been saying?"
"Does it matter?" She nearly clenched both fists, but settled for only clenching one when she remembered the fragile gift she held.
"Yes." He was growing increasingly concerned.
"I..I don't really know what most of it means. Kveto calls things like these 'innuendos'. I mean, I know they're dirty. I just don't know much more than that. But" she paused for a moment, carrying on when Cali's face gently brushed against hers, encouraging her. "The way they say it all, the way they look at me. It bothers me." She finally met his eyes. "They make me uncomfortable."
Kostya nodded. "I can understand that." He placed a hand on her unoccupied shoulder. "Hey. Next time you deal with something like that, tell Kveto or I, okay? We'll help you out."
Xena wanted to trust him. He had already helped her (maybe even saved her) before. He had gone through the trouble of fighting for her, had basically carried her home, and had looked after her in a moment of weakness.
"Okay." She gave a small smile.
She realized something.
"Shit! Youre gonna be late!" She exclaimed.
He gave a small laugh, standing and offering her a hand. "Don't worry about it."
He pulled her to her feet.
"Be safe today, okay kid?"
She nodded quickly with a smile of her own. "I'll try!"
"Off you go then, kid!" He exclaimed, ruffling her hair before turning to leave.
"Wait!" She probably could've yelled a bit quieter. She thrust the small bunch of flowers towards him.
"Oh?" Again, he was confused.
"To say thank you."
It took him a full minute or so to realize she was offering them to him.
"Oh! Thank you!"
---
Upon further inspection later in the day, he realized what type of flowers they were.
"How the fuck?"
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Melekseev Idea 1#
Ever since I posted pictures of Niki with his cute little fangs, I was thinking of a Vampire AU
Niki as a vampire, trying to hide the fact that he is one even though it's pretty obvious from his teeth and the amount of gore he put into his staging. He accidentally (seriously, accidentally) bit Kostya during their make-out session night alone. Niki felt guilty but Kostya tried to reassure him it's not his fault and it's a good thing, Niki won't listen. Then, out of desperation, Kostya demanded changes to his whole staging, just to prove a point
I want to write it but at the same time I don't have either energy, time, nor the skills. I have the will so I'll try writing it someday before 11th grade starts :)
#alekseev#melovin#nikita alekseev#melekseev#idea#yeet#vampire au#au#melekseev ideas#I love this idea#im gonna try writing it#or you guys can write it and I'll just give some ideas
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Let’s Be Weirdos Together (Chapter 14)
Summary: Alice O’Riley is a lonely outcast. She’s ready to finish the senior year and get the hell out of her hometown… until she meets Kostya and he turns her world upside down.
Pairing: Kostya Bocharov/OFC
Overall tags: high school, romance, fluff, real person fanfiction, smut.
Tags for this chapter: high school, love at first sight, threats, fear,
Author’s note: New characters in this chapter!
Thanks again to kostyaaas for encouraging me to post this and thanks to mycoolodessaguy for beta-reading this (They’re so cool, you should check their blogs if you haven’t yet). Hope you like this cheesy high school AU and remember that feedback is always welcome.
14 Vampire family
I woke up to the feeling of someone blowing on my face.
—Kostya… please, stop—I mumbled, still half sleep and refusing to open my eyes. The blowing didn’t stop—. Kostya!
—Guess again, love—said an unknown masculine voice.
I opened my eyes to find a strange boy laying beside me, grinning. He looked fairly young, probably my age or a couple of years younger, and he had big brown eyes, dark hair and a gap between his front teeth. He also had long and pointy fangs, so I screamed and crawled away from him as fast as I could, forgetting I was only in a tank top and my panties.
Because I was walking backwards, I stumbled upon the carpet and fell to the floor with a loud thud. I kept crawling like a crab, though, I didn’t want him to get me. The strange vampire jumped to the bed, smiling. He followed me as I kept on trying to get as far as possible from him, but when I bumped my back against the window, I knew I had lost. The unknown vampire was so close now I was able to feel his breath on the naked skin of my neck. I closed my eyes, ready to feel the bite.
—Kristian! Get away from the girl!—a new, older voice commanded.
I opened my eyes to see Kostya and two other men standing there. The young vampire, Kristian, looked at them but didn’t move an inch.
—Kristian, do as I say—said one of the men, with long hair and stubble over his square jaw. He had been the one to talk before.
—You are not my maker, Bohdan—Kristian hissed.
Oh, so that was Kostya’s father… and Kristian and the other man had to be the family Kostya had told me about just a couple of hours before. Well, way to make a first good impression, huh?
—No, but I am the head of this clan. Get away from the girl, she’s your cousin’s—said Bohdan.
—But I’m hungry, and she smells so good… why can’t I take a bite? Just a little bit.
—Because you can’t—said Kostya, harshly—. Get away from her. Now.
—I thought we shared everything, cousin—said Kristian, with a hurt tone.
—She. Is not. Food—Kostya said.
Kristian brushed my hair off my face and neck. I was trembling by then and Kostya wanted to get to me, but Bohdan grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.
—Well, she certainly looks like a snack.
—Kristian—said then the other man, who, if I remembered correctly, was called Alexander—, she is Kostya’s mate.
—Why didn’t you say that before?—Kristian asked, finally moving away from me. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my heartbeat. Kostya rolled his eyes.
—You didn’t give your cousin time to explain—said Alexander.
—Also, we just did, but you didn’t listen—Kostya said.
—Yeah, this is kinda my fault…—Kristian turned to me; his fangs were gone, which was a relief—Sorry, sweetheart, I wouldn’t have scared you that way if I knew who you were before.
—Why don’t you leave us alone?—said Kostya, walking to where I was and hugging me.
—Yes, we should give the girl time to calm down.
—And to get dressed—added Alexander, amused.
I hid my face behind my hands, all fear now obliterated by the overwhelming sense of embarrassment.
—Your relatives saw me half naked! I want to die!—I said.
—This is not the worst they have seen, my angel; they’re vampires, after all. Come on, let’s get you dressed and then we will introduce you properly to my family, okay?
—Okay.
I got dressed and we went downstairs, where his family was. Kristian was fooling around with Citrus, Alexander had poured himself a glass of vodka and Bohdan was sat by the piano, looking through the music sheets. As soon as Citrus saw Kostya, he ran to him and jumped into his arms.
—What’s happening, meowka?—Kostya asked, brushing his nose against the cat head— Is Kristian annoying you?
—Meow!—complained the cat.
—Liar! —said Kristian—We were having fun!
—Sure you were—Kostya chuckled—. Family, I want to introduce you to my mate, Alice O’Riley—he said then, drawing his family’s attention on me—. She’s a Fae.
—Oh, so that’s why she smells so good!—said Kristian. I flinched a little—. Oh, sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you again… I am so tired and hungry! We’ve been travelling for two days and I haven’t drunk a single drop of blood since Moscow!
—It’s okay, I understand. I get grumpy too when I haven’t eaten anything for a long time—I said.
—I like you, we’ll be friends.
Now that he wasn’t trying to feed on me, Kristian actually seemed very friendly and bubbly, someone fun to have around.
—Alice should be going now, it’s getting late—said Kostya.
—Nonsense—said Bohdan—. She’s invited to stay and have dinner with us. I saw you already cooked a lot of food.
—Okay, then you talk to her mom—said Kostya, handing his phone to Bohdan.
Surprisingly, my mom agreed to let me stay for dinner. Or maybe it wasn’t that surprising, considering Bohdan was very charming and charismatic, even on the phone, and his voice was very seductive. No one else could have convinced my mom to let me stay having school the next day.
I was kinda used to have Kostya looking at me and chatting while I ate, but then I had not one but four vampires watching every movement I made. It was a bit overwhelming and could have been potentially very awkward if we weren’t having a conversation as well.
They wanted to know everything about me: what kind of Fae I was, who were my parents and what they did for a living, if I had siblings, what do I wanted to do in the future…
—I want to be a painter or something related.
—Can we see your drawings?—asked Kristian.
—Ah… well, I guess so—I shrugged—. I have my sketchbook in my backpack.
—I’ll go get it—said Kostya.
I blushed furiously as they pored over my sketchbook. The first pages were full of drawings of animals (mostly cats), landscapes, and buildings I had copied from online pictures. More recently, there were a lot of fangs studies and drawings of Kostya.
—Where did you do these?—he asked.
—At home. I made them from memory, so they’re not that good—I said.
—You underestimate yourself, my angel—he said, smiling lovingly.
—Get a room you two!—joked Kristian. Kostya glared at him.
—I think you have quite the talent— Alexander said—. What do you think, Bohdan?
—I see a huge potential and with some training, you could be very, very good, Alice.
—I… I want to go to an art school, but my parents won’t let me—I said.
—Maybe I can fix that—Bohdan said.
—No! I mean, no hypnosis whatsoever on my parents—I said—. I’ll manage myself.
—I’m sure you will—Bohdan said.
After dessert, Kostya took me home.
—Well, that went better than expected—I said as he was parking in front of my house.
—I’m sorry that my cousin tried to bite you!—he apologized—I shouldn’t have left you alone when I heard the door opening! I… I was talking with Bohdan and then Kristian was gone and…!
Ever heard of a vampire with a panic attack? Me neither, until that moment. Also, the more nervous he was, the thicker his accent was. I did the only thing I could think of: kiss him.
As I smashed my mouth against his lips, I felt him relax a little. Now that he was calm enough, he could actually listen.
—Kostya!—I grabbed his hands, rubbing my thumbs in circles over his soft, cold skin— Kostya, listen to me: it’s alright. It’s alright, nothing happened, I am fine.
—But he scared you so much!—he protested. He was so upset he said “mush” instead of much.
—I was scared—I confessed—, but as soon as you showed up I knew I was safe. You would never let anything hurt me.
—But what if I’m not there to protect you?—he said— What if I hadn’t been there today? I won’t forgive myself if something bad happens to you.
—I’m a banshee. I’m sure I can learn how to protect myself.
—I’ll teach you everything I can—he said.
—You’re the best vampire boyfriend a banshee could wish for.
We kissed again, and I felt something was left unsaid between us, but as my mom came out of the house, I didn’t have the opportunity to ask him about it.
—See you tomorrow, my love—he said.
#mélovin#melovin#melovin fanfic#kostya bocharov#let's be weirdos together#poppy writes#highschool!au#kristian kostov
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