#(Guest - Orlov)

[typingtess]

NCIS: Los Angeles Season 14 Rewatch:  “Blood Bank”

The basics:  A shootout on a yacht owned by Arkady Kolcheck gets NCIS’s attention.

Written by:  Samantha Chasse co-wrote "Kill Beale Vol. 1" and wrote "Impostor Syndrome" and “Murmuration”.

Directed by:  Benny Boom directed "Ghost Gun", "767", "Fool Me Twice", "Pro Se", "Hail Mary", “Groundwork” and “Perception”.   

Guest stars of note:  Duncan Campbell returns as NCIS Special Agent Castor from “Let It Burn”, Vyto Ruginis joins season 14 as Arkady Kolcheck.  Matty Cardarople returns as Danny, who sold pastries in season 10’s “Into the Breach” and computer supplies in “Imposter Syndrome” in season 12,.  Kathleen Garrett as Miraslava Borisova, Dalia Rooni as Riffat Murad, Nikolay Moss as Kostas Orlov, Jonathan Kells Phillips as Rupert Richardson and Emily Morales-Cabrera as Assistant

Our heroes:   Deal with more Russian nonsense.

What important things did we learn about: Callen:  Giving a deposition. Sam:   Running a taskforce. Kensi:  Nancy Drew on the boat. Deeks:  Swedish nobility. Fatima:   Late. Rountree:   Bodyguard. Kilbride:  Appalled by Arkady’s safe house.

What not so important things did we learn about: Callen:  Now working on Sam’s taskforce. Sam:   Absent. Kensi:   Wields a mean serving tray. Deeks:   Wields a mean sword. Fatima:  Coffee fan. Rountree:   Lost the excuse book. Kilbride:  Found the excuse book.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange?  Not a mention, though I bet she knew Mira Borisova.

Who's down with OTP:  Kensi dropped her “Mom Tone” when she had to separate Arkady and Mira Borisova.  Kensi and Deeks were fine.

Who's down with BrOTP:   Fatima and Rountree have plans for covering for each other.  Fatima made a friend waiting for coffee.

Fashion review:    Callen wears a dark blue, long-sleeve tee.  Kensi has on an oatmeal pullover sweater that probably looked better in person than on the TV.  Deeks started the episode in a pale pink tee before wearing his Swedish Nobleman blue suit.  A red quarter-zip for Fatima.  Rountree started the episode with a black tee and what looked like a blue lightweight rain jacket before wearing his all black bodyguard gear.  Tell me if you’ve heard this before – blue suit, pale blue dress shirt, medium blue tie for the Admiral.  He also wears a trench coat and looks fantastic. 

Music:   "Makaha” by the Tikiyaki Orchestra is playing in the bar when the Admiral arrives to rescue Arkady.  Deeks and Arkady walk into the auction house with “Rasputin” by Boney M. playing.  A bit of the “Titanic” soundtrack pops up at the end.

Any notable cut scene:  Not today.

Quote: Arkady:  “Grisha?”

Kilbride:  “Guess again.  What sort of a moron decides to make a safe house from...whatever this place is?”

Arkady:  “Am I alive?”

Kilbride:  “Judging by the looks of this table, barely.”

Arkady:  “Listen, a Russian would not look for another Russian in a bar that serves rum-based drinks.  It is a brilliant and delicious plan.”

An Arkady-Kilbride spinoff would have worked.

Anything else:  On a yacht, a Russian woman is showing off the 43rd of the Czar’s Fabergé Eggs to buyers.  There are only 42 known eggs, she has the 43rd which “no longer exists, yet, there it is.”  She is looking for $7 million for the egg.

She wants to share champagne with her buyers but when she calls for one of her yacht staffers to bring a bottle, there is no answer.  The buyer and his bodyguard pull out guns and shoot the woman and her security staff.  They race off with the egg. 

The woman, however, is not dead.  The large necklace she wore acted as a bulletproof vest.

Walking into the office, Kensi and Deeks are debating Rosa watching a dating reality show.  Kensi assures Deeks that Rosa knows the show isn’t real.  This is news to Deeks, who thinks the program is real.  The two debate the contestants, including a “meatball specialist”.  A very amped up Rountree joins them, asking about going into the burn room.  Since it is 9AM on a Monday, neither Kensi or Deeks have a reason to do any early week burning.  Rountree tries to exit but is forced to explain the notebook he shares with Fatima.  It is a track of their excuses for when they are late.  “It’s the only way we can keep our stories straight!” 

Kensi mentions texting each other but Rountree thinks Kilbride would find a digital trail.  Fatima is late and he’s not sure what the excuse of the day will be.  And he needs that right now since Kilbride is looking for Fatima.  Rountree starts with a car appointment but that would mean Fatima scheduled it during work hours, angering Kilbride.  He changes to medical appointment but that worries Kilbride.  Suddenly Fatima has a dog – for an undercover operative, Rountree is bad at this.  And the dog was hit by a car.  Kensi and Deeks offer thoughts and prayers.

Fatima, however, is getting coffee.  Fatima chats with a woman waiting for coffee.  Riffat works for an agency finding housing for refugees from Afghanistan.  After trouble with the barista, Fatima is on her way.

Kilbride walks into an empty Ops, except for Rountree.  Based on the case that just arrived, Rountree wanted to do the debrief alone.  Two Russians were found dead on a yacht in Marina del Ray.  Demetri Fedrov and Simeon Babanin, former Russian military and now with the Wagner Group, are persons of interest in moving cultural and historical pieces of art.  The boat, the Diamond of the Ocean, belongs to Arkady Kolcheck.  “Why am I not surprised?”

Kensi and Deeks enter Ops with news that Arkady was attacked.  They know nothing about what happened on the boat the way Rountree and the Admiral know nothing about the attack on Arkady.  There is a “Who’s on First” vibe going on.  Arkady was attacked at his house that morning but was able to move to a safe house.  He contacted Callen, who wants Kensi and Deeks to ping Arkady’s burner phone.  Callen is giving a deposition so he’s unavailable. 

Deeks thought Arkady was out of the spy business but Kensi thinks it could be his past causing Arkady trouble.  The Admiral isn’t so sure that Arkady is out of the spy business.  Rountree offers to call Callen but the Admiral is going to find Arkady himself.

In a Tiki bar, a rather overserved Arkady is looking for “Grisha” but gets Kilbride instead.  Kilbride is wondering what kind of “moron” makes a Tiki bar a safehouse.  Arkady is wondering if he is alive.  Explaining himself, Arkady tells Kilbride that a Russian would not look for a Russian in a place that serves rum-based drinks.  “It is a brilliant and delicious plan.” 

Ignoring what has led the two of them to “this idiotic moment”, Kilbride wants to know what happened.  Leaving his house that morning, two men with guns came up to Arkady’s car.  He high-tailed it out of there, running over one of the gunmen’s feet.  Kilbride asks if that’s what caused the shooting on Arkady’s boat.  Arkady is confused, he hasn’t owned a boat for 40-years.  “Must be another Arkady Kolcheck.”   Saying he is just a typical ex-KGB Agent who defected to America, “who could want me dead?”

On the maybe not Arkady’s yacht, the original thought is murder-suicide.  Looking at the lack of blood spatter behind one body and the way the blood pooled, Kensi thinks this is a set-up.  The investigation says there was no video but that doesn’t make sense.  A boat this big and fancy would have security cameras, according to Kensi/Nancy Drew.  Deeks tries a mirror but it is one way, not two.  Kensi found a camera in the smoke detector – “Nancy Drew you did it again.”

In the boat shed, Arkady is finishing a call with Anna as Callen pours some coffee.  Arkady isn’t a fan of the boat shed because it smells like a crab shack.  His safe house has blended drinks.  On the plasma screen, Rountree and an arriving Fatima have the footage from the camera Kensi found.  Most of the footage is useless, it was over there table where the Russian woman was showing the egg.  The woman, however, drags herself into the camera’s range.  Fatima has facial rec but Arkady already knows – “Mira.”  And he claims to know her biblically. 

Mira is Miraslava Borisova, a Moscow museum curator turned black market antiquities dealer.  With Borisova’s access, Arkady was able to put her in contact with people interested in buying what she could provide.  But that was 40-years ago.  Callen wants Arkady to set up a meeting.

Outside of a fancy hotel in Beverly Hills, Callen is surprised Borisova would hide in such a public place.  Being a well dress, wealthy woman, Arkady thinks she’d fit right in.  He’s a bit nervous about reuniting with Borisova.  Callen offers some advice and help but Arkady remind him that he was doing this before Callen was born.  The roach coach is now a plumbing company van with Kensi and Deeks inside with a lot of surveillance equipment.  Callen tells them that Arkady dated Borisova before he met Anna’s mother. 

Rapping on the door, Arkady finds it opened.  He calls for Borisova as he walks inside.  She has a rather heavy coffee table book and starts beating him with it.  Callen asks Kensi and Deeks what’s going on and they’re not sure.  Back in the room, Borisova is furious that Arkady finally calls and it the day she was almost killed.  To get her attention, Arkady pops her with a couch decorative pillow.  She returns the favor. 

Kensi yells that “they’re fighting” – Borisova thinks Arkady set her up in Malta and set her up today – while Deeks is enjoying the “geriatric WWE”.  Kensi wonders if they should go in.  Callen isn’t sure.  Deeks brings up the time Arkady made them de-booby-trap his car because Arkady couldn’t remember how he booby-trapped it.  Kensi brings up a failed mission in Chechnya.  Callen talks about Arkady cursing his engagement to Anna.  They’re going to let Arkady and Borisova work things out for a while.

After Borisova picks up the luggage rack, getting NCIS’s attention, Arkady threatens to remove the tag from a rare Beanie Baby.  When he does, Borisova really starts knocking him around.  Callen, Kensi and Deeks walk into the hotel room just as Arkady goes flying.

Near Ops, Fatima runs into the Admiral while she tried to evade him.  She apologizes for her tardiness.  Fatima tells him her dog is doing well.  The Admiral, a dog lover, wants her to bring in the dog as he recovers.  In fact, he insists. 

In Ops, Rountree apologizes for freaking out and going with the dog.  Fatima is more concerned about finding a dog.  On the big screen, Kensi and Deeks are in the boat shed.  Rountree identified the missing object from the yacht – it is one of eight missing decorative eggs, made for the Russian royal family.  While killing Borisova to steal the egg makes sense, why go after Arkady?  Fatima sends a picture of the egg to Callen, who is interrogating Mira.  Arkady is on the back deck in a time out.

Callen shows Borisova the egg.  She plays dumb but knows she’s been caught.  Callen asks why was the boat registered to Arkady.  Again, Borisova plays dumb until Callen says he’s going to turn the yacht over to the DOJ.  They have a special taskforce that confiscates Russian belongings.  After explaining it is her boat, Borisova tells Callen that she has put Arkady’s name on everything she’s bought – from condos in Cape Town to safe deposit boxes.  For all the world knows, they’ve been partners in crime for 40-years.  It is the perfect revenge – “petty but effective.” 

Bringing up the attack on Arkady, Callen believes someone going after Borisova tried to kill Arkady as part of her fake partnership.  Since the men who robbed her thinks she dead, she’s not interested in talking.  Callen is – the men are still after Arkady and it is Borisova’s fault.  

The men on the yacht were new clients and vetted by an auction house.  Callen is surprised – why would an auction house be involved.  Antiquities have to be stored carefully not in a storage locker rented by the month.  The only people who knew about the sale were the auction house, buyers and the seller, Alexey Pasternik.  Pasternik was motivated – he wanted the sale.  Moving the item quicky meant selling at a discount.  And that means he’s the problem.

Alexey Pasternik died three-days earlier.  He “threw himself” from a 12-floor condo by going through the window.  A suspicious death.  Fatima has a map of billionaires like Pasternik who left Russia days before the Ukraine invasion.  More than half are dead. 

Callen tells Borisova about Pasternik’s untimely fall.  She tries to joke about the Russian national bird being a flightless bird because of all the falling Russians.  Callen wants to know what Pasternik was trying to get away from.  Borisova explains that the billionaires had their loyalty bought by the Russian government.  Lots of money was given to these people and now with the sanctions causing financial pain in Russia, the government wants the money back. 

The government was hiding their wealth with the billionaires – they are blood banks.  Since the government was not happy with the way Borisova was selling off the assets, they went after her and her partner, Arkady.

Doing a ton of exposition, Deeks explains that the money given to the billionaires to invest and spend was reclaimable.  Once the billionaire dies, the money goes back to Russia.  All the murders of the billionaires all over the world was to get back the money.  “This is so much bigger than we thought.”

In his office, Kilbride tells Kensi and Deeks on his smaller plasma screen that the DOJ will not be cooperating with NCIS.  With tactical nukes on the table, NCIS has to be involved in a discreet investigation.  An investigation without Callen, since he is joining Sam’s joint task force.  It is Kensi, Deeks, Fatima and Rountree on this one.

Since they don’t know the gunmen or how to smoke them out, Deeks thinks they should approach the auction house since the auction house still thinks Borisova and Arkady are in business together.  Arkady could approach the auction house to get an item and the insider in the auction house could tip off the gunmen.

Borisova is willing to help but only if she’s running things.  The auction house will have rules for wealthy clients and a well-dressed Deeks – fancy suit, tie, and a medal of some sort around his neck – is just that client as Swedish nobility.  She reminds everyone that the auction house protects objects, not people.  The fire suppression system removes all the oxygen in a room to stop a fire.  If there is a person there, well, that’s a problem for the person.  For her cooperation, Borisova wants a second chance.

Dressing in the boat shed restroom, Borisova brings Arkady a special suit.  He apologizes for leaving her in Malta.  She sort of does the same with today’s assassination attempt.  “Let’s just call us even.” 

Walking into the auction house wearing a tan three-piece suit, a light blue dress shirt and a red paisley tie, Arkady introduces himself to the woman in the reception area.  He is followed by Deeks and Rountree, who is all in black, dressed as a bodyguard.  Asking for Rupert and giving his account number, provided by Borisova in the plumbing van with Castor, Arkady and Deeks welcomed in.  Rountree must wait in the reception area – company policy.

In a waiting area, Rupert is excited to greet Arkady after working with Borisova on his behalf for years.  Rupert starts speaking to Deeks in Swedish – that goes poorly.  Rupert is going to speak to Deeks while Arkady opens his locker.  Arkady is freaking out – he doesn’t have the key.  The earwigs are failing – the building is secure.  When Kensi asks about Borisova, Castor is shown out cold and Borisova is gone.

In the vault area, Arkady is met by an armed Borisova. 

With no response from Arkady or Castor, Kensi and Rountree are going to move into the auction house. 

Entering the locker behind Borisova is Arkasha, the man who shot her on the boat.  Arkasha thought he was going to have to kill Borisova twice that day but she cut a deal with Arkasha today.  She would kill Arkady, turn over her client list and she gets back the egg and her freedom.  Arkasha suggest she shoot Arkady in the head.  She doesn’t.  Instead, she knees Arkasha where it hurts, turns on the CO-2 suppression system and sets off all sorts of alarms.

Making his way through the building, Rountree gets to the vault but can’t open the door.  Rountree shoots open the vault door to find Arkady.

When the alarm goes off, so does Rupert.  He pulls a sword from the wall before Deeks can get his gun out. 

Rountree finds Arkasha and subdues him before they both suffocate.

Arkasaha’s men have Arkady and Borisova.  Kensi causes a distraction and takes one henchman out. 

Deeks finds his own wall sword and he and Rupert duel.  Deeks wins in a way too short scene.

Kensi is stuck between Arkasha’s two men.  Arkady tosses her a silver platter and a vase.  She takes them both out before Deeks arrives.  Promising to make a scene to distract Kensi and Deeks, Arkady wants Borisova to flee.  She’s not going anywhere.  Kensi puts her in cuffs.

Back in the office, Rountree asks Fatima for friends dinner - tacos or udon.  She has to pass -  she’s having a friends dinner with Riffat.  Rountree thinks that’s great.  He also found a shelter that lets people borrow pets – she could use that for the Admiral.  Fatima is just going to tell the truth.  That’s when the Admiral arrives with the excuses notebook.  He also noticed all the same frappuccino cups in Ops so Fatima needs to come on time.

On the back deck of the boat shed, Kensi asks Arkady if he is alright.  He has Anna, Grisha – his family.  He wouldn’t rewrite one minute of his life if it meant he wouldn’t have them.  Kensi asks about Borisova.  She will always be on his credit score with all the accounts she took out.  Besides, that means she is thinking of him.  He shows her the beanie baby.  Kensi tells him she knows it is worthless and so does he.  She says goodnight.

Arkady watches Kensi leave and pulls the beanie baby apart.  Inside is a very expensive necklace.  With the soundtrack from “Titanic” playing, he holds it over the water.  Then decides it was too expensive to drop into the water.  Instead, Arkady takes it with him as he leaves.  Anna calls.  Suddenly, he wants to talk about the open bar at the wedding.

What head canon can be formed from here:    There is a continuity issue because in “Answers”, Deeks joked about writing for a reality series.  Now he’s shocked to find out they are scripted.

My goodness this was a chatty episode.  TV should be show, don’t tell.  This was all tell, tell, tell.  And a generic tell, tell, tell.  This episode works completely in season three.  In season six.  In season nine – you get the point.  A mention of Callen’s wedding here and there but otherwise, Hetty could have picked Arkady at the bar, Sam or Callen could have been on bodyguard duty instead of Rountree. 

And I know the lack of Sam (all) and Callen (a lot) in this episode has to do with the upcoming crossover episodes but just have Sam up on the big screen in Ops telling Callen to drop everything, he’s needed. 

It wasn’t a bad episode – and anytime Arkady shows up, the fun level goes up, up, up – but it just wasn’t much of an episode.

Episode number:   This was episode nine of season 14 (though it was filmed after “A Long Time Coming”), episode 311 overall.

[tom--22--felton]

#Repost @orlov_bani_astana

—

Magical guests in the Orlov bani!✨

Recently, actor Tom Felton, the star of the Harry Potter saga, visited our complex.

@t22felton, come back to experience magic outside of Hogwarts, in the bani! We are always glad to see you!

[commorlova]

Introduction:

This is a side blog, please take that into account about reply times. The number one request of this blog is to be patient! Mod is still reading and rewatching the series, characterization will improve as knowledge improves. [Currently reading : 3001 ]

This blog is run by the same mod as @commbowman , a lot of the rules will remain consistent.

Rules:

Gore, cosmic horror and other potentially triggering topics are allowed on this blog, be warned

Be respectful!

This is primarily “ask blog” based, run as if it is the characters personal account. Threads are allowed but dm if there’s any preplanning.

I will try to match the style a ask is in (being asked based or more of a thread “”)

Doubles are permitted. Each interaction is considered its own “universe” unless otherwise stated

Crossovers are limited to other science fiction or media that fits the feel of the series.

Dm for long term or more serious rp

This blog follows a mix of movie and book canon and is taken seriously. Joke asks and replies are fine but expect a in character response to shenanigans. I will try to avoid ooc behavior, it will be better the more my understanding grows.

Will not do meta reactions to photos unless they are posted by mod, similar reason to the tags. Separating and curating the experience as well as being more “serious” as a blog than jokey

Tagging system :

Ooc -> out of character post , typically a update

Aso rp -> all rp posts will be tagged this to remain respectful and out of the main tags

In character -> in character posts, replies to asks etc.

Airlock -> headcanon or character related but not exactly in character

Magnification -> picture

🌏 Tanya -> character tag

Verse : -> what universe a interaction takes place in

Transmission : -> partner , asker etc

6⏱️ Soviet -> either a joke post or one revealing information about the character (in character)

Muse:

Tatiana “Tanya” Orlova is 39 years old and an incredibly stubborn woman. She cares greatly for the safety of her crew, and guests, though has trouble seeing things outside of her viewpoint.

She is married to Vasili Orlov and quite loyal.

She will largely follow canon of both versions with a slightly heavier lean on book canon.

[thomasshelbydrabbles]

The Spy (4/?)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Adeline Taylor (OC)

Warnings: period typical sexism, series typical violence, period typical views of PTSD, period typical racism, blood and gore, angst, sexual situations, infertility, loss of child

Summary: An unexpected visitor leads to a change in plans and a painful memory for Adeline.

**Note: This is a series, so you should read The School Teacher and The Messenger first if you want to understand everything.*

Word Count: 2927

A/N: Please mind the tags. This chapter might contain triggering content.

Author’s Note: I know this took forever to update, but I got a new job (yay) and it’s been tricky settling into the new schedule.

Russia, 1924

As he entered, Adeline peered up at Sidney from over the top of the book she’d been reading in the sitting room. With a wistful sigh, she closed it knowing she’d not get such perfect sunlight again. Sidney knew how to ruin everything. They’d settled into a bit of a routine out here in the Russian countryside. He took meetings in the office, she spent most of her days reading books and actively not thinking about Tommy. Which of course meant she spent nearly every waking moment thinking about him. About Arthur and John. The time not spent daydreaming about the Shelby’s she spent conjuring various ways of removing Sidney from her life permanently. 

Of course, she also attended meetings with him. She now knew more about the Reds and the Whites than she ever wanted to know and again cursed Tommy for getting himself involved with any of this. 

A knock on the door drew her attention. They weren’t expecting any guests. While Sidney answered the door, she lit another cigarette and picked up the pistol she always kept nearby. She quickly checked it over, a habit courtesy of Alfie, before joining Sidney at the door. 

“Orlov,” Sidney greeted as he pulled the door wide. “Good to see you.” 

Orlov frowned; his thick eyebrows obscuring the look in his eyes, but the prickling along her spine told her this wasn’t a social call. “For a spy, you’re a terrible liar, Sidney.” 

Adeline smiled as she placed the pistol back down. “I’m glad to see you again.”

And she was. Any person, or event, or appointment that spared her more alone time with Sidney was always most welcome. She knew he knew it too. Being around him, and only him, was a unique sort of torture because he possessed an innate understanding of how to make her miserable without providing her any sort of rational means of saying so. He’d simply walk into the same room as her, not say a word and she found herself wanting to strangle the life from his body. In the evening, he’d ask her what she would like prepared for dinner and she imagined watching him choke on potatoes. 

“Ah,” Orlov turned, a wide grin on his face. “Miss Arke, a pleasure to see you again.”

He leaned forward and pressed kiss to each of her cheeks. Part of her would regret needing to kill him. And the staff that Sidney had acquired for them, but it was his own fault for ensuring they all called her Arke. Of course, he claimed it was to protect her because the fewer people who knew her as Adeline the safer they would be. Damn him for being correct. He did always put his own, and by extension her own safety above all else, so the staff were merely expendable pieces in their game. Should she feel more for them? Were it Frances would she feel differently? Of course both were stupid questions with equally obvious answers. She sighed. 

“What news do you have?”

“Nothing you’re going to like, Sidney. It seems the man we sent is now dead.” 

Adeline glanced over at Sidney. 

“He was due to meet a Mister Thomas Shelby at a pub in Birmingham, but he never arrived,” Orlov continued.

Adeline pressed a hand to her chest, reminding herself to breathe. The heat of Sidney’s glared scorched along her skin. She’d not mentioned a word of Tommy or any of the Shelby’s when anyone else was around. Hell, she barely managed to speak his name when Sidney asked her about him. Sidney hadn’t mentioned him either, at least not in a work context.    

“We’ve arranged passage for the Grand Duke and his family. Since the man we sent has now disappeared, we need another course of action.”

Sidney’s hand closed into a fist. “You want us to go to England to fix your mess.” 

Orlov smiled. “Did you think becoming ruler of the world would be simple, Sidney? Did you think you could merely direct your pawns from your manor house and then swan into the presidential office when the work was concluded?”

Feeling the tension in the room, and knowing Sidney would make things worse, Adeline stepped forward. “There won’t be a body left to find.” 

“How would you know?” Orlov asked.

“I know how the Shelby’s handle business matters, which is why it’s Sidney who has been summoned back to England. Since he’s decided that I go only where he goes, I’m being brought along to ensure no more of Mister Churchill's men go missing. Although,” Adeline paused. “I’d bet four to one that the man, the one who went missing, was a spy. And not one of yours.” 

“Then I suppose he did us a favor. In either case, it made some members of Section D concerned. There had been discussions about eliminating the problem.” 

Sidney moved to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. “Shelby’s aren’t easy to kill. Like cockroaches.” 

Her eyes narrowed. That sounded far too close to a confession. She suspected he was the mysterious hand moving the pieces in Birmingham, and the more time she spent time with him, the more convinced she was that he was responsible for…everything. She’d never been free of him. She wanted to be offended about the cockroach comment on the boy’s behalf, but Sidney had a point. Like her, they were a stubborn sort, too foolish to die. Even Arthur had been unable to take his own life. They all beat the odds in France. Fucking Shelby's. 

“Which is an admirable trait given the nature of the mission. It’s dangerous, and no one can be sure about the loyalty of any of the players on the board,” Sidney said. “Most of Section D want me eliminated.” 

“Good to know they’re not all fools then,” Adeline said, smirk on her face. 

“Oh do be quiet.” 

Adeline laughed. “Relax, Sidney. I’ll protect you from the mean men of Whitehall. If anyone’s going to kill you, it’s going to be me.” 

“You’d be wise to exercise caution when dealing with the men of Section D. They hold powerful positions, and are not accustomed to being ignored, disobeyed, or questioned,” Orlov cautioned. 

“How do they feel about breathing?” Adeline asked as she walked back to her chair. “I’m quite happy to kill them if they’re too bothered by being ignored, disobeyed, and questioned.” 

Orlov let out a deep sigh. “I do hope Churchill understands what he is doing with all of this.” 

“I’m sure he doesn’t, but he thinks he does. Not to mention all of this must be done hush hush. Can’t have the British getting their hands dirty. Not yet, at any rate,” Sidney said. 

“Yes, well,” Orlov said, flustered. He tugged on the bottom of his jacket. “That’s not any of my concern. I’m here to see you both to the station. We’ve you both booked on the next train to Calais.”

Adeline frowned. “Bloody France.”

“I do hope you know what you have done, my dear Arke,” Sidney said once Orlov left. 

“I’ve done many things, sweetheart,” Adeline replied. “Most of them seem to upset you, so forgive me if I ask for a few additional details before I answer.” 

Reaching over to the small side table, she took another cigarette and lit it. As the smoke billowed in the space between them, she waited him out. 

“You know damn well I’m referring to Thomas Shelby working with Winston Churchill.” 

Adeline scoffed as she flicked some ash from the tip of her cigarette. “I doubt very much that anyone works with Mister Churchill, but even if they did, I would be the last person on earth to encourage such foolishness. You’ve seen to it that I’ve had no contact with him or Alfie for the past two years.” 

She swallowed thickly. The ache in her chest at the thought of him, of them, hadn’t lessened over time. The small missives she’d managed to exchange with Michael, with Isaiah made the pain of missing them worse. She’d been careful about her correspondence with them; any letter from them was quickly read, and turned into ash before returning to the manor. Being this far away from every useful contact she had made any sort planning a nightmare, but she hadn’t lived this long by remaining idle. Wait, pet. Waitin’ and learnin’ will help you in the end, Alfie’s wisdom never far from her ear. 

“If Tommy’s made a mess of your plans, he’s done it without any assistance from me.” 

Sidney crossed the room. He braced his hands on the arms of the chair she sat in, looming over her. She met his gaze, fighting the urge to lift her chin in defiance. Had she grown to hate his face more since they’d been here? She knew the ridiculous mustache he wore made her want to shave him while he slept. At least his didn’t smell like Campbell’s had. Her nose wrinkled at the thought. Yet Sidney could be pleasant. She’d not fallen into his bed during the war by accident. In moments, she found herself nearly fond of him. The feeling would would pass nearly as quickly as it arrived and she’d once more fantasize about removing his toes with a handsaw. 

“I wonder,” Sidney mused, as though speaking to himself. “Have you learned to lie, my dear? Did your time with the lowlifes up north manage to teach you the one lesson I failed at?” 

She continued to look at him without speaking. Allow him to find his own answers, to draw his own, likely incorrect, conclusions. Would lying have been an easier answer? A quick assurance that yes she had been the hand responsible for his current predicament? The lie would make a certain sort of sense given their acrimonious relationship. Part of her wished she had been the one who caused this distress, but she’d never have endangered Tommy by placing him directly in Churchill’s path. Foolish man. Fucking Shelby's. 

“If I had learned to lie, why would I waste it on this? I’d hardly lie to make your life easier.” 

Sidney’s lips pulled into a smile, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. Adeline brought the cigarette back to her lips, wondering if it was too early in the day for a drink. 

“It hardly matters now,” Sidney said. He took the cigarette from her fingers and brought it to his lips. “Churchill has insisted we go to Birmingham.” 

Adeline tried not to smile. Tommy.

“Oh, don’t look so pleased, my dear.” He turned to ash the cigarette. “I don’t think the reunion will be quite as happy as you think.”

Sidney took her hand in his. “You’ve worn his ring, played virgin for the two years you’ve been apart.” 

Adeline snatched her hand away, wishing she could kill him with a look. She hated the part of herself that wondered not if but how long it took for Tommy to have someone else warming his bed. Maybe it would be May. Perhaps even Lizzie, but she doubted the woman would take the risk. 

“Even knowing the type of man your Thomas Shelby is, you barely let me touch you.” 

“We both know it’s not Thomas fucking Shelby who keeps me from touching you.”

When his face settled into a smug, self-satisfied look Adeline wanted to slap herself for falling into his trap. He always found new ways to unsettle her. 

“Does he know?” Sidney paused. 

Adeline met his gaze because while she likely would not win this particular war, she refused to give ground so early in the game. She raised an eyebrow, even as she felt the bottom drop out beneath her. 

“Of course you didn’t. You’re smart. I looked into him, into all of them when I realized where you’d hidden. The Shelbys are quite family-orientated. Traditional in that sense, if in none other. Even if he’s not taken another woman to his bed, will he want you back in his when he finds out?”

Adeline looked away, placed her hand on her stomach. 

“I’m surprised the woman, Polly is it? Hasn’t figured it out yet,” Sidney continued as he moved back from her, tone deceptively uninterested. “She’s a witch, isn’t she? Some sort of gypsy foresight?” 

“If Polly’s figured it out, she’s made no mention of it to me, or to any of the boys.” 

Sidney nodded, as though he’d settled something in his mind. He gestured to where her hands still hovered protectively, if uselessly above her stomach. “Has he never asked about the scar?”

Adeline squeezed her eyes closed. Pushing herself from the chair, moving past him to stand near the window, she took a moment to breathe. Her eyes fluttered closed. 

“Which one?” she asked, voice calm even as a storm of emotions threatened to overwhelm her. “Thanks to you, thanks to the opportunities you provided for me, I have quite an impressive collection of scars to chose from. Thomas and I haven’t spent our time together discussing each scar adorning our bodies.” 

“Convenient,” Sidney said. “You’ve always been a clever girl.” 

Her eyes heavy with pain, and regret, she met his mud-brown eyes. “Not clever enough. Least, not when it matters.” 

“My dear,” Sidney said as he crossed the room. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leaned in, their foreheads touching. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Not many would have survived as you have.” 

“Aye,” Adeline nodded her head.

He pulled her into a tight embrace, and she wanted to resist him, but. With so many of her weaknesses exposed, she needed someone’s arms around her and his were the only ones available to her. Later. As she always did, she’d bide her time. When the moment presented itself, she’d tear his arms from his body.

“I don’t have many regrets in my life. A man in my profession can’t afford such things, as you know, but if I did have one regret, Arke, it would be that day.”    

Tears stung the corner of her eyes. “Damn you, Sidney.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders.

“It’s funny,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t remember much from that day. Mostly pain. Oh, it was a pain I’d never felt before…just everywhere , all a once. It felt nearly exquisite. Pulsing out of my body.”

She paused, glanced up at him. “And then there was your face. You were scared. Funny, ‘cause I’d never seen you scared before. Made you look smaller - human. Then, I slept. And when I woke up Alfie was there. It’s strange how memory blurs things, distorts them at the edges.”

Needing space, she moved from his arms, and lit another cigarette. It’d been years since she’d thought about that day, about the weeks, the months that followed. “I almost thanked you. You did something one might consider decent, unless they knew you.”

“If they knew you,” she blew a plume of smoke past her lips. “They would understand the truth. You did it so that you didn’t have to deal with it yourself. But. You sent me Alfie. He kept me alive. One way or another, that stubborn Jewish bastard always keeps me alive. Even when I wish he wouldn’t.”

Adeline took a deep breath.

“I think what I hate you for the most is that you proved my mother correct. I think of her from time to time. Usually when my life is in shambles, and I’m at my absolute worst. She’d appreciate knowin’ that. And still, I can’t help but agree with her in believing that it was a blessing. That’s what my mother would have called it. A blessing .”

She glanced over her shoulder and scoffed. “Not you. You’re still an utter bastard. But us? Parents? You as a father? Me as a mother? Neither of us has any business being either. So I think in life’s own twisted way it did us a favor. Took away the opportunity before we had a chance to fuck it up. To fuck her up.” 

Adeline flicked ash from her cigarette. “Did I ever tell you it was a girl? Not that it mattered then. Suppose it matters even less now.” 

She envied Tommy his ability to close to the door on the war, and for a time, she’d done a decent job of shoving this particular part of her past into a deep, dark recess of her mind. But, now she was forced to remember. It hadn’t all been pain. For two minutes and twenty-six seconds, she’d been a mother. In her arms, she’d cradled the smallest, most perfect child she’d ever seen. 

“You seem to have a deft enough hand at being a mother to the children of Small Heath. As I understand it, they adore you.” 

Adeline scoffed. Sidney found the oddest ways to pay her a compliment. “Mothering aspiring gangsters is simple. One might say I have a unique perspective on how to go about such a thing.”

“You were meant for so much more than life as a gangster’s wife, my dear Arke.” 

Adeline smiled, felt it bite into her psyche. “Perhaps, but whatever my life holds, know this. It won’t include you. When he believed himself to be winning, to have the upper hand, I promised Campbell I’d kill him. I’m a woman of my word, as you bloody well know. So I make you a promise now, Sidney. You’ll be in hell to greet me when my time comes.” 

Part 5

Master List

Tag List: @stevie75  @muhahaha303  @highgardenrosexx 

[ncisladaily]

NCIS INVESTIGATES A SHOOTOUT IN WHICH A RARE CULTURAL ARTIFACT IS STOLEN, ON “NCIS: LOS ANGELES,” SUNDAY, JAN. 8

“Blood Bank” – When NCIS investigates a shootout on a boat in which a rare cultural artifact is stolen, they’re shocked to learn who owns the boat, on the CBS Original series NCIS: LOS ANGELES, Sunday, Jan. 8 (9:30-10:30 PM, ET/9:00-10:00 PM, PT) on the CBS Television Network, and available to stream live and on demand on Paramount+*.

REGULAR CAST:

Chris O’Donnell

(Special Agent G. Callen)

LL COOL J

(Special Agent Sam Hanna)

Linda Hunt

(Operations Manager Henrietta “Hetty” Lange)

Daniela Ruah

(Special Agent Kensi Blye)

Eric Christian Olsen

(NCIS Investigator Marty Deeks)

Medalion Rahimi

(Special Agent Fatima Namazi)

Caleb Castille

(Special Agent Devin Rountree)

Gerald McRaney

(Retired Admiral Hollace Kilbride)

GUEST CAST:

Duncan Campbell

(NCIS Special Agent Castor)

Vyto Ruginis

(Arkady Kolcheck)

Kathleen Garrett

(Miraslava Borisova)

Dalia Rooni

(Riffat Murad)

Nikolay Moss

(Kostas Orlov)

Jonathan Kells Phillips

(Rupert Richardson)

Matty Cardarople

Emily Morales-Cabrera

(Danny)

(Assistant)

WRITTEN BY: Samantha Chasse

DIRECTED BY: Benny Boom

[thesportish]

Ovechkin scores two points against Minnesota, Dadonov scores two goals against Winnipeg

Photo: © REUTERS/Geoff Burke-USA TODAY Sports The Washington Capitals lost 2-4 to the Minnesota Wild in an NHL regular season game. The captain of the capital club Alexander Ovechkin scored two assists. Evgeny Kuznetsov and Dmitry Orlov finished the match without any points, as did the guests’ striker Kirill Kaprizov. Minnesota is currently in sixth place in the Western Conference. Washington is…

[obliviouskind]

Lukyan Dan Orlov

It was high time THIS got a remake... 

He doesn't have that big of a stage presence atm on this blog but... Rest assured. He lives rent free in my mind 24/7 still. 

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Eight (The Great Fanfiction Series, Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader)

Summary: You are married to Count Grigor Dymov of Russia to keep an alliance between the Russian crown and your family safe. But you realize you have grown to love him and he has too fallen for you. You are forced apart during the Coup and once you return to the palace, you make a shocking discovery about your husband while you were gone. One that turns your excitement of seeing your husband into feelings of betrayal and heartbreak. But...what does your husband have to say about what happened? Did he really commit such a thing in the first place? What do your allies at the palace have to say about it?

Warnings: Spoilers for Season Two, Bad Mental Health, Y/N being an emotional mess, Swearing, discussions of sex, marriage, and cheating. Being Pro-Georgiana and Anti-M*rial.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED!

Part One //Part Two //Part Three// Part Four// Part Five//Part Six

Taglist: @itsametaphorgwil​ @bluesfortheredj​ @grigorlee​ @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joeslee   @grigorlee @itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @jamesbuckybarns​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @rhapsodyrecs​ @ladystrallan​​ ​

General Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen​ @queenlover05​ @seraphicmercury

You lay in bed. Hardly seeing or feeling anything. Your eyes were heavy, and your head hurt. Exhausted but unable to sleep. Unable to cry even.

There was a knock on the door. A bird-voiced serf announced rather cheerfully for your present circumstance.

“It’s Grigor…” she began.

“Keep away from me, asshole!” you interrupted.

“Grigory Orlov…” she finished.

“Y/N, it’s me, Orlo!” a familiar voice cried.

“Let him in.”

You turned away from the window to stare at the other side of the room. You heard footsteps and voices.  You were only in your shift, keeping the dark blankets up to your chin. You turned up at least to look at him.

“Hello! I hear you aren’t well, some gossips even suggested smallpox…I see that isn’t true! Thank god! I asked the serfs to make you some chicken broth. And tea…” Orlo offered. The tray was even in his hands.

You sat up. But wouldn’t speak. Only sipping your broth and tea.

“Orlo…the alliance said I had to marry into Russia…” you confessed.

The tan-colored broth made it look like urine. You kept eating it, tasting like another regular soup.

“Yes, it did,” Orlo confirmed.

“Why didn’t I marry you instead?” you asked.

Orlo adjusted his spectacles when he jumped in surprise.

“What!”

“You…you’d be a good husband to me. You’re smart and kind. You wouldn’t hurt me, wouldn’t betray me in any way at all…”

“Y/N, I…I’ve been experimenting, and I don’t think I really like women or men or any of that! I don’t know if I could be anyone’s husband at all! To be frank, if it came to our wedding night, you’d be the most unsatisfied, disappointed woman in Russia! And you’d be stuck to me for life!”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about sex right now… I want someone who…who loves me. Or someone who cares about me, and you wouldn’t…you would never…”

Bitter reality hit you and you put away your bowl.

“Why wasn’t it you who was brought there? Why couldn’t it be you I was betrothed to in the first place?!”

“But that didn’t happen. Peter and Grigor were the guests at your home. And since Grigor was the most available man, he was chosen for the alliance. This, where you are now, is happening.”

The sound of his name made your hands into fists.

“I hate Grigor! I hate him! If he was here right now, I’d take this hot tea and dump it on him!”

“Y/N! Goodness! Did something happen?”

You looked at him, and then down on the blanket, curling up your knees so you could burrow your head.

“Here…I will leave you be…please, feel better. I can ask for a doctor as well.” He walked over to the serfs. You heard their whispers.

“Make sure she is getting something to eat.” He ordered.

“Her husband asked the same of us. Some trays went cold for a few days.”

“Well, now you have my word as well,” Orlo advised before the door creaked to a close. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The door creaked open sometime later. Was it an hour that passed? A day? You hardly knew. You heard the voice of the old man serf.

“Madame Dymov, you have a visitor…”

“Tell my husband I do not wish to see him.” You replied firmly.

“I’m not him” a familiar, feminine voice replied.

“Oh…she can come in…” you answered quietly.

You did not leave your bed or turn your head to look. At least you had the heated comfort of the duvet. Maybe, if you ever laid there long enough, you could replace the shape of…of her body away from it. The thought made your vision blurry with a few tears that you wiped away with your sleeve.

There were heeled footsteps. You kept staring at the wall, only seeing the shadow of Mademoiselle Georgiana.

“Hello there…”

“Hello…” you said weakly.

“I hear you’re…not feeling well…” she began.

“I don’t have anything you can catch. I wish it was smallpox instead…I wish that was the only thing wrong in my life right now…in fact…I wish I was back home. I wish I could see my parents and my brother again. I wish everything was back to the way it was a year ago…”

You felt her sit on the bed by your side.

“Tell me…what’s wrong? What has happened? You were there for me when I Was broken. Grigor has rarely appeared in public here and no one sees you at all. Something is wrong, and I want to know what…”

Her hand gently patted your hair, smoothing it down as if you were a cat.

“Grigor…” you started, stuttering almost. Not believing the words that were coming out. “Grigor has been unfaithful to me…”

There was a deep exhale.

“Y/N…marriage should not be a tomb. A dead thing with no joy or freedom,” George lectured.

“My parents were always faithful to each other. I was taught my whole life to do that. How if I Was unfaithful, that was grounds for divorce.”

“You can’t divorce under the Russian church,” she argued.

“Even with adultery?��

“Yes.”

“I…I wish I could. I don’t want to see him or hear him or anything ever again…”

There was a small sigh from Georgiana.

“Y/N…whores are common here. You know that. He was gone from you for four months. I just returned from a fivesome this morning! This is just…a place where you can let all that old-fashioned shit your parents taught you to rest. Don’t resist anymore and enjoy your life. You can be free like him! I’ll tell you what- I will help look for a lover for you. That’s your key to forgetting this! I’ll make sure he’s the most handsome man I can find and can use his hands and tongue to please you like no other. You won’t be able to leave his side, and you’ll be happy! If Grigor can, so can you”

Clutching the blankets tighter, you felt your breath quicken with your words.

“Do you want to know who his lover is?” you added on, louder.

There was a pause. Turning around you looked into her pretty eyes. You thought you would find confusion. But instead, they hardened with realization. Her mouth opened a little, but she contained her shock.

“You’re kidding.”

You leaned up a little.

“You know…you know about…”

“Marial? Of course, I know about her! I know how they lost their virginities to each other when they were adolescents with copious details!”

She stood up and began pacing. Words flew out of her without caution.

“I knew the moment I met her and saw them together that she would grab him- at the first chance she got! I was so relieved when she was knocked down to serfdom! Back then, her own lover was still very much alive!”

“Alive?” you repeated

“Grigor and I killed him to protect the emperor!”

You sat up more.

“What?!” you cried.

“That’s not important, another time! Anyways-when we were lovers, I had a feeling about her. Something I couldn’t trust. I only spoke with her when I had to. I knew something was up. I asked Grigor to not speak to her. He followed my request then. I…”

You reached out a hand to cut her off.

“Georgiana, I am so sorry I was so awful to you…I thought you were a horrible person and Marial was the one I could trust and… I was so, so wrong-I got it all switched!” you confessed.

“You already apologized for that, my dear…”

“But…that’s not all…he…”

You began to cry.

“He’s so much happier with her than with me. And…he’s going…he’s going to leave me for her…”

“How did you know that?” she asked, walking up closer.

“Marial told me herself!” you explained, getting out of bed.

“She might be a bitch, but she’s not a smart bitch!”

“Like you are, George!” you said.

She laughed a little.

“Yes, I’m a smart bitch. I will admit.”

You lowered your shoulders, eyes down to the polished floor beneath your bare feet and her heeled ones.

“I’m just a bitch wife. I know I should be happy for him. I should let him go and be with her if I want him to be happy. But…I thought…I…I love him, George. You understand. I’m possessive, I’m jealous, I know it. But I can’t bear the thought of him running off to be with…of abandoning me-”

You started crying and this time, she hugged you, letting it out.

“I…I thought he loved me…I thought he really loved me. How could he do this? To the alliance? To me?”

She embraced you, patting your back as you finished crying.

Turning around, she got you out of bed and on the table by the fire. She gestured to a large, dark bottle with a shiny gold bow on it.

“Here, I have a glass of wine. Help yourself! A gift from me-”

She poured you a large, generous glass.

“So she bragged about seducing Grigor to you,” she reviewed.

You began taking a sip. It was dry with a fruity aftertaste.

“Yes, said she would ride him and all that.” Your stomach curled at the picture in your head.

“Fuck!” George replied in disgust.

“I went into a rage and almost slit her throat though.”

She froze.

“Really? Is this Y/N I’m speaking to? The same Y/N who was shaking at her wedding banquet?”

She raised her glass to you and took a delicate sip.

“Yes, I’m me but…I…why didn’t I do it? People kill each other all the time, why couldn’t I? At least I’d have some peace of mind.”

“Yes, and you’d have a body to get rid of!”

The wine hit your stomach. It had been a while and the effects of the glass already made you relaxed. And talkative, Both of you chatted, venting about the situation. You let yourself, cry a little bit and even smile and laugh at the quips George came up with.

“Yes, that! I would bet he’s doing her like horses right now…oh…oh my, I feel exhausted.” You said, getting up.

You yawned largely, stretching your arms.

“Y/N, have you been sleeping well?…” George asked.

“No…I haven’t been able to…but…”

She took an arm around you.

“Go back to bed, dear, take a nice, long nap…”

She led you back to the bed, even putting the blankets and duvets over you and lowering the curtains over the window. Lightened by the conversation and sleepy from wine, your shut your eyes and easily went into a deep, blissful sleep at least. Unaware of the angry footsteps to the Dymov parlor behind you. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ George suspected the situation from the way the parlor was set up when she crossed it to enter the bedroom. A few of Grigor’s things were outside in the parlor and a pillow and blanket were set in front of the fire as if he was Cinderella. Her hands crumpled into fists by her side.

It was worse than she thought. Far, far worse.

Grigor walked up.

“How is she?” he asked desperately.

“Asleep. At last.” She reported plainly.

“Geogiana! What a pleasant surprise! How are…”

He was greeted with a sharp slap on the cheek. She looked at him in the eyes as he shook his head in confusion from the blow.

“Congratulations. You just ascended to a new level of foolishness.”

“Oh, she told you that…I have to tell you, that isn’t-”

She stepped forward; arms crossed.

“You were given the best woman to be the wife you always wanted to have. Fuck, you were given her on a silver platter! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Y/N is a kind, brave woman and far better than half the bitches I have met here. You just traded a perfect wife who loves and adores you for a lover who can’t even be loyal to her best friend. And you’ve broken Y/N��s heart. Permanently.”

She felt little tears in the corners of her eyes but kept her strength up. She walked towards him. He retreated a little.

“Thank god, I said no to you when you proposed. You would have brought whoever was your wife such pain regardless. And you dared to be upset with me and Peter while you sneak off to Marial? Grigor, you’re a fucking idiot!”

“The point is, I didn’t…”

“This is the thanks you give to a wife who actually shuts her legs to other men? And to top it all, you’re going to leave her-leave her alone, frightened, and heartbroken just after abandoning her for the coup…”

“I didn’t abandon her during the coup! If I could join her, I would! I helped her escape! I did it for her safety!”

“You did it for your cock!”

He breathed in deep and waited for a pause.

“George…let me explain what happened…”

He sat her down, grabbing her hands and looking her in her eyes.

“Yes, I was reacquainted with Marial at a party. Yes, I went to her apartment for a drink and to talk. But…she came onto me and kissed me. Then she kissed me again. I pushed her back. She had me backed into a corner. She reached into my clothes, looking for my pants, and…she got out the ring.”

“What ring?”

“Y/N gave me Catherine’s ring to make it seem like the empress liked me so I would be safe with her soldiers. She got it out of my pocket. I stepped forward and demanded her to return it. She said she would if I fucked her. I pushed her away. I remember running fast as I could out of her place, asking the serfs to take me back at once. Every time I step out of these halls, she watches me. She does things to get my attention. Anything. Everything. And still, she will not leave me be. But…here…”

He grabbed a dirty knife from a plate.

“I will make a fucking blood pact with you right now if you don’t believe me!”

Georgiana took it away, placing it on the plate

“Don’t do that! Who knows where else that’s been!”

He looked back at her, repeating the phrase seriously.

“I have not slept with Marial.”

She blinked, shoulders letting down.

“So…you haven’t…”

“You saw what this has done to Y/N. She refuses to let me sleep in the bed and I don’t have it in me to throw her out. So I let her stay in my quarters. Every day I ask to see her and every day she refuses. If Peter doesn’t ask for me, then I’m staying here. Staying here until she says yes. Until I can explain to her what really happened. It’s…”

He teared up.

“She won’t eat. I don’t hear her bathing. Only sometimes does she have visitors. And she won’t sleep. I hear her pacing all night and sobbing and…and just how much pain she’s in, the pain I brought her in! For something that actually didn’t happen!”

“Well, shit…”

She looked over the parlor, thinking everything through, then she looked back at him.

“I’m a woman. I know how women work…here’s what you do if you’re going to resolve things with Y/N…”

[zerogate]

Pashtun society is classified as segmentary, a subtype of acephalous (leaderless). The main figures of authority are the elders (maliks) who serve a local tribal chief (khan), but their leadership positions remain at all times contingent on putting the tribe’s interests first. All decision-making is consensus-based, severely restricting the scope of united action. However, when faced with an external threat, the Pashtuns are able to appoint a dictator, and to serve that dictator with absolute obedience until the threat is extinguished.

Pashtunwali defines the following key concepts: honor (nang) demands action regardless of consequences whenever Pashtunwali is violated. It is permissible to lie and kill to protect one’s nang. Revenge (badal) demands “an eye for an eye” in case of injury or damage, but crucially allows payment of restitution to avoid bloodshed. Incarceration is considered unacceptable and unjust under any circumstances. It is seen as interfering with justice, since it complicates the process of exacting revenge and precludes the payment of restitution. This is why Afghanistan has been the scene of spectacular prison escapes, where hundreds of inmates are freed in a single military-style attack; the attackers’ goal is not just to free prisoners but also to later kill them or collect restitution from them.

The law of hospitality (nanawatai) demands that any Pashtun must welcome and provide sanctuary to anyone who asks for it. As a matter of nang, the guest must be kept perfectly secure and safe from all harm while a guest. Once over the threshold and no longer a guest, he can be sniped at one’s leisure should such an action be called for. Laws against harboring fugitives, serving as accessory after the fact, impeding official investigations and so forth are meaningless and attempts to enforce them automatically result in badal.

-- Dmitry Orlov, The Five Stages of Collapse

[incorrect-caps-etc]

Peter Laviolette: Okay guys. What are some gender-neutral options for addressing a crowd?

Brenden Dillon: Guys, gals, and nonbinary pals.

Lars Eller: Distinguished guests.

TJ Oshie: My fellow Americans

Tom Wilson: Members of the jury

Zdeno Chara: Citizens of the solar system.

Nic Dowd: All y'all.

Jakub Vrana: My dudes!

Ilya Samsonov: Those who must be stopped.

Vitek Vanecek: Friends :)

John Carlson: Bitches.

Garnet Hathaway: All you who got dressed up for no reason

Evgeny Kuznetsov: Humans, I presume

Carl Hagelin: Fools!

Daniel Sprong: Cowards!

Nicklas Backstrom: Lovable idiots

Dmitry Orlov: Ladies, germs, nonbinary worms

Alex Ovechkin: Mortals

[typingtess]

Tiptoeing through the “Blood Bank” guest cast

Duncan Campbell as NCIS Special Agent Castor Back from “Let It Burn” in late November.

Vyto Ruginis as Arkady Kolcheck Welcome to season 14!  Ruginis was last seen on the beach in “Come Together”, season 13’s season finale.

Kathleen Garrett as Miraslava Borisova Played Judge Nina Larkin in Power Book II:  Ghost and Judge Susan Moretti in Law & Order.

Guest roles include Hooperman, Thirtysomething, Head of the Class, The Outsiders, Shannon’s Deal, Matlock, Home Improvement, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, ER, Phenom, The New WKRP in Cincinnati, Murder She Wrote, Diagnosis Murder, Murphy Brown (1996), The John Larroquette Show, Baywatch Nights, Dark Skies, Touched by an Angel, 3rd Rock from the Sun, Dharma & Greg, Providence, Melrose Place (1999), The West Wing, Beverly Hills 90210 (2000), Star Trek: Voyager, 100 Centre Street, First Monday, Without a Trace, Malcolm in the Middle , Shark, Ugly Betty, Law & Order: SVU, Mysteries of Laura, The Deuce, Billions, FBI, Inventing Anna and The First Lady (she was Laura Bush in one episode).   Announcing her role.  Hanging with Chris O’Donnell. On the set.  

Dalia Rooni as Riffat Murad Was in the series Transportainment and appeared in a few short films. Dressing room photo/photo with Medalion Rahimi.

Nikolay Moss as Kostas Orlov Was in episodes of Gossip Girl, Gringollandia, GodComplx, The Cobblestone Corridor, Betrayed and The Rook.

Jonathan Kells Phillips as Rupert Richardson Was Volk in Condor and played Senator Shawn Kelly in NCIS’s season 13 “Charade” episode.

Guest roles include Law & Order: SVU, Damages, The Mentalist, One Life to Live, True Blood, The Exes, Masters of Sex, Hose of Lies, Madam Secretary, The Americans, Station 19 and Yellowstone.

Matty Cardarople as Danny Cardarople’s Danny returns.  Danny sold pastries in season 10’s “Into the Breach” and computer supplies in “Imposter Syndrome” in season 12.

Emily Morales-Cabrera as Assistant Played Alex in Hot Summer Daze.  Appeared in episodes of The Chi, Danger Force, This is Us, American Horror Stories and The Sex Lives of College Girls.

Written by:  Samantha Chasse co-wrote "Kill Beale Vol. 1" and wrote "Impostor Syndrome" and “Murmuration”.

Directed by: Benny Boom directed "Ghost Gun", "767", "Fool Me Twice", "Pro Se", "Hail Mary", “Groundwork” and “Perception”.    

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 2 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 3 / 4 / 5 

_____________________________________________________

~Nesta~

The day after meeting my fiancé, I drop Alexei off at the plane, tell him goodbye, and drive further down the tarmac to where Cassian’s waiting in a completely different private plane.

Very environmentally conscious, our lifestyle

The stairs are unfolded, so after making sure my luggage is transferred over, I head inside.

Cassian’s waiting, sipping bourbon despite the fact that it’s nine in the morning.

He’s dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a black long sleeve t-shirt that makes the tattoos on his hands and knuckles seem even more pronounced. He seems more comfortable now than yesterday.

Like he’s not trying to fit into the mold of a respectable gentleman in a suit.

He looks over as my heels click against the floor, eyes dragging up my legs, pausing at my chest, and scanning my face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, almost like he doesn’t know what else to say.

My lips twitch as I slide into the seat across from him, staying silent for now to throw him off.

As expected, he shifts in his seat, looking mildly uncomfortable.

Then, like he realizes what I’m doing, he narrows his eyes. “You realize that a woman who just sits there, looks pretty, and doesn’t argue is pretty much a man’s dream, right?”

A smile tugs at my lips, but I sigh like I’m not the least bit amused. “Good morning, Cassian.”

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to determine the proper response for such a ground-breaking conversation opener.

He finally decides on: “You don’t have an accent.”

“Not when I speak English.”

Alexei, the hypocritical bastard, said English should sound like English and Russian should sound like Russian.

“Do you speak any other languages?” he asks, apparently not having looked in my file. He’s probably trying to figure out if his secret conversations with his fellow countrymen are safe.

“I speak Italian, since that’s what you really want to know.”

He grins, playful light in his eyes. “I think I’d like to hear that.”

An amused laugh escapes me at that, but I give him what he wants as I murmur, “Sono sicuro che lo faresti.” I’m sure you would.

His eyes seem to darken, and I roll my eyes. Men.

“I speak a little Russian, but not much,” he tells me. Considering I, unlike him, I did my homework, I already knew that.

Done with this conversation, I close my eyes and attempt to sleep. A plan that goes out the window when Cassian says confidently, “I usually only speak Italian when I fuck.”

I know he’s trying to feel me out, get a rise out of me, so I keep my voice completely deadpan as I reply, “Interesting. I tend to choose French.”

He laughs, face splitting into a humongous, goofy-looking grin. “Now that, I can’t wait to hear.”

Ah, yes. Because the idea I won’t sleep with him is unthinkable.

To me, too, but at least I’m not an asshole about it. Time to humble him a bit.

I feign like I’m not attracted to him in the slightest as I make a show of looking him over. “I never said you would, tupitsa.”

Before he can respond to me calling him a dumbass, I close my eyes and go to sleep.

~Cassian~

My fiancé passes out in a matter of seconds. It’s a little impressive, honestly. One second she’s teasing me with the thought of French whispers under silk sheets, the next she’s dead to the world.

I, unfortunately, am stuck on the first part.

Fuck, she’s hot.

It’s an effortless sort of beauty, considering she isn’t wearing makeup and her hair appears to be naturally blonde and straight.

Regardless, she looks like she just stepped off a runway.

Delicate bone structure, fierce eyes, full lips that sounded so good saying my name it took me a moment to formulate a response.

Distracting curves, sweeping hips, long legs that are currently crossed and allowing the slightest hint of lace at the top of her stocking to show.

My dick takes notice of that site, and I remind the greedy bastard she’s a Russian--an enemy--but he doesn’t seem to care. Nope, he wants me to peel those stockings down. With my teeth.

What’s somehow hotter than even her choice of legwear is the fact that she isn’t doing it on purpose. She’s completely relaxed, asleep for God’s sake, not trying to seduce me.

I grit my teeth and look out the window.

Like every other time I fly, I get restless after about ten minutes. I pull out my phone and make sure everything’s ready for when we land, work on my laptop for a bit, stare at Nesta sleeping for a longer bit, and pace the aisle like a caged lion when I start to feel like a creep.

Because I’ve been dealing with administrative shit like getting engaged, it’s been a while since I’ve done something to quell the rush in my blood.

Business, surprisingly, is boring when an army of hateful Russians isn’t trying to kill you all the time. I haven’t fought in days, haven’t shot my gun in longer.

I send Ricardo a text and have him set up a fight for tonight, but even the thought of the coming violence does nothing to help me calm down.

By the time we land, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of this plane.

Nesta wakes up when the wheels touch down, stretching and looking annoyingly well rested.

As the plane taxis, I tell her, “I have to work tonight.”

It’s a lie, and she cocks her eyebrow like she knows it. But she doesn’t call me on it, doesn’t even seem that interested. “I already requested a separate car.”

My brows furrow because I hate being predictable, but I keep my mouth shut.

Nesta stands as the stairs drop open, straightening her dress and pulling it down over the lacey top of her stockings that are now right in front of my face.

Before I even realize what she’s about, there’s a sharp smack to the bottom of my chin that forces my head up. She tsks, shaking her head teasingly.

“What was that for?” I ask, even though I already know.

She grabs her bag, and I follow as she walks down to the tarmac. “Somnophilia.”

I take a second to look up what the hell that is, laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes when I find the definition. Nesta shakes her head, small smile on those distracting lips, and walks to her waiting driver.

“I’ll see you at home, wife,” I call, not able to resist.

She just flips me the bird over her shoulder, making me laugh again.

Like I said, not what I was expecting.

~Nesta~

Things with Cassian are going... well, I guess.

He has the emotional maturity of a seventeen year old boy, but he isn’t terrible. As long as he stays out of my way, I dare say this marriage might work.

He’ll go about his business, I’ll go about mine, and we’ll avoid each other for happily ever after just like the fairytales say.

I shake my head as Maxim, one of the first New York transplants, navigates us through the city and to Sera. I’ve visited all my clubs at least once, and I have to admit, this one is by far my favorite.

As it should be.

The other three I run in New York were all my father’s originally. Built by a man, for the entertainment of men, I have to say they aren’t places I’d visit myself.

But I built Sera from the ground up, and while it’s designed to appeal to both men and women, men are--for the first time in history--not the priority.

The building it’s located in is a skyscraper, one I rent out to different businesses that don’t need an entire place to themselves. The ground floor is a bank, one that discretely cleans Russian money and makes us more through interest.

All in all, an unremarkable location to the public eye.

But every night, after normal banking hours have long passed, a select number of guests are invited to Sera--a speakeasy-type burlesque club with a hidden entrance in the secondary vault of the bank.

It’s secret, exclusive, and private as hell.

When we get to the bank, I enter the passcode on the side door--changed nightly--and walk through the silent lobby to the back room where the bouncer sits on a wooden stool.

“Privet, boss,” the burly man greets, sweeping the door open and ushering me through with a meaty hand. “Man in the back is asking for the owner.”

I nod and step inside, the door immediately closing behind me.

It’s the perfect level of crowded; enough people that no one stands out but not packed to the point of misery. By design, of course.

Everything seems to be the same as when I visited a few months ago except for the changed flooring I had installed last week. The tables and booths in the back are full of people captivated by the jazz singer on stage, a woman I discovered while walking to a business meeting in Paris.

Her cigarette-roughened voice had pulled me in, much like it does the audience now, and I’d offered her a job on the spot.

One of the bartenders, an ex-con who was locked up for stealing insulin for his diabetic daughter, smiles at me and slides me a tumblr of vodka as I make my way over.

“Good to see you,” Dima greets warmly. “How long are you here for?”

“Permanently.”

His eyebrows shoot up, which makes sense, considering the engagement hasn’t been announced properly. We’re apparently having a party of some kind in two weeks to celebrate the big news.

“I’ll explain later,” I tell him, noticing a group of people approaching the bar.

He nods, and I slip away towards the back corner where a roped-off set of stairs lead down to the basement below.

Like usual, there’s a private poker game happening in the main room of the bottom floor, and I stop to make say a few hellos but eventually move on to the hallway containing offices for some of the management.

The soldier stationed at the door to mine nods in acknowledgement, then tells me a whale’s inside.

My brows raise at the idea of a big-time investor coming to see me at this hour, but I shrug and walk in, shoulders back and face blank. I learned a long time ago to never let my emotions play out on my face.

The man waiting inside looks to be in his forties, richer than sin, and cold. Mafia, undoubtedly. His dark eyes rake over me, and he asks in a tone I don’t appreciate, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Nesta Orlov. You requested to speak to me?”

His bushy brows pinch together. “No, I want to speak to the owner.”

“One and the same.”

“I was told Cassian Azara is the owner.”

My jaw clenches at the thought that we’ve been engaged for less than two days and people already assume my shit is his. “By who?” I ask, remembering our upcoming nuptials aren’t even public news yet.

“My Capo.”

That gets my attention.

Rhysand’s telling people my club is Cassian’s? Why?

Something isn’t right.

I might not know the Italian boss, but I’ve heard he’s straightforward. Ruthless but honest. So why would he lie?

A little voice inside my head whispers, What if he isn’t?

Mind whirling, I turn to the man and smile politely even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing. “Would you mind giving me a moment? If you go upstairs, our bartender will get you anything you want, on the house.”

He shrugs and leaves, and as soon as the door clicks shut, I go to my desk and pull up the electronic copy of our marriage contract.

Like I thought, nothing’s amiss.

I read this shit thoroughly enough to know exactly what I was getting into, and in case I missed anything, I had my private lawyer scan over it.

But that little voice, that gut feeling, refuses to go away. So I grab my bag and look through the physical copy, dread unfurling when I notice an extra page tucked in the middle.

It’s a prenup.

One I’ve never seen.

And there, smack dab in the middle, is a line declaring the deed to Sera the property of Cassian Azara.

A rough breath forces its way out of me, and for a second, I’m so angry, so blind with rage, I can’t hardly think. What the hell is going on?

I force myself to think through this, to rationalize what I’m seeing.

Replaying the moment in the Capo’s office, I realize the switch between the original and this version of the contract must’ve happened prior. I was only in there a few minutes and had the papers in my hand the whole time.

Which means...

Alexei picks up on the first ring, like he was waiting for the call. “Da.”

“What the hell have you done?”

He sighs. “What needed doing.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I wasn’t the one who started a goddamn war with the Italians, and yet I’m the one who’s paying all the prices. I’m marrying the bastard, for fuck’s sake. Give him one of your clubs.”

His tone hardens. “He didn’t want anything else.”

“I don’t give a shit! This place is my property. It isn’t yours to give away.” I take a deep breath and try to quiet the rushing in my veins. “That idiot will run it into the ground.”

There’s a long moment, and I swear he sounds a little guilty as he says calmly, “He has more than a few businesses of his own, Nesta. It will be fine.”

I pinch my lips together to keep from cursing the man who raised me.

“If you read the document,” he says, a strange note to his voice. “You’ll notice there are a number of clauses.”

My eyes scan to the bottom of the page, and I read as Alexei continues. “He is permitted from selling, unless to you. The investors have the option to vote him out at any time. And if he is unfaithful to you or ends the engagement for whatever reason, Sera is returned to you in full.”

All the violence, all the rage, seems to dim. Just a little.

This is so like Alexei; in fact, it was one of his first lessons to me.

Give someone the illusion of winning, and they’ll sign anything you want them to.

I read through the clauses again, lips twitching. “Let me get this straight. If I can prove Cassian Azara--notorious playboy of New York--is cheating on me, the club is mine? And if the board at Sera votes him out, he can’t fight it?”

I can practically hear my father’s smile. “Da.”

“Or if I drive him crazy and he ends the engagement?”

“Da.”

Sounds easy enough. I drive Alexei absolutely insane and have never had a long-term relationship. I’ll have him running for the hills in no time.

One thing doesn’t make sense, though. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t sign. It’s still a risk, even with the clauses” He takes a deep breath. “I never told you, but we were losing the war in New York. We would’ve lasted another year, and then we would’ve lost the city.”

“Alexei-”

“I need this alliance to hold, Volchonok,” he says. “And either of you calling off the engagement or divorcing the other is grounds for the war to start back up.”

“So you’re saying I still need to marry him.”

He gruffs a confirmation, and my brain whirls as it thinks of a new plan.

My options are down to three: have him sell to me, prove he’s cheating, or get the board to vote him out.

“One more thing. You only have until the wedding. Once you’re married, the only way to get your property back is if he signs the deed to you.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, moving my timeline up by a factor of a hundred. Checking the calendar proves what I already know: I have less than thirty days to somehow convince one of the most notoriously stubborn men in the world to give me a multi-million dollar company.

Easy.

“I’m... sorry. For lying.”

I’m so shocked he just apologized--something he’s never done in my twenty-five years of life--it takes me a moment to respond and tell him he’s forgiven. “Ty proshchen, otets.”

I disconnect the call and swivel around in the chair, a smile pulling on my lips.

I’m going to drive him fucking crazy. All while I make him fall in love with me.

Oh, Cassian. I almost feel sorry for you.

_______________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

[burlveneer-music]

Tommaso Cappellato - Pioneered - jazz explorer’s new album, the first on his Domanda Music label, with some impressive guest artists

Liner notes by Piotr Orlov: The Italian percussionist-producer-composer Tommaso Cappellato will release his seventh album as a bandleader, Pioneered, on July 16, 2021. It was recorded during the artist’s month-long residency at the venerable Brooklyn contemporary arts space Pioneer Works, in 2018. Pioneered features contributions from a multicultural and sonically diverse cast of electronic, jazz, and experimental players whose own work and ideas about music communities naturally inform Cappellato’s. The impressive list of contributors to Pioneered includes Shahzad Ismaily, jaimie branch, Val Jeanty, Afrikan Sciences, Michael Blake, Yusuke Yamamoto, Donato Dozzy, and others. Pioneered also marks the first release on Cappellato’s Domanda Music label, devoted to a global-minded eclecticism, rhythm, improvisation and joy.

Original Artwork by Giorgio Pasini

[daminiqs]

                         𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑻𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒏:

                         𝖨𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾                          𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖾𝖼𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋                          𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍-𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.                          𝖮𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗎𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇                          𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝖨𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒.

name: samaira qutb shah fc: tabu   title: nawab begum samaira qutb shah, duchess of hyderabad age: 50   siblings: farhan qutb shah ( deceased ) children: utp traits:  utp

people visit hyderabad for the mosques. well that’s not true, foreigners visit for the masjids and palaces for artifacts both living and ancient -- indians visit for the bazaars. laad bazaar where colorful lacquer bangles line the winding alleys, clinking from the brush of a saree or burkha, or the perfume bazaar with so many fragances fighting for attention until one’s head aches. and of course, everyone came for the biryani. a microcosm of the quintessential indian mixture of different tongues and peoples as a state that was both north and south in culture. this is the hyderabad that raised samaira. this is the hyderabad she protects fiercely.

her grandfather used to tell her and her younger brother stories of their hyderabad, the princely state they were to rule, every night he could manage. he’d describe the intrigue it took to bring the qutb shah family back into the palace after the nizams had stolen it, deals with the british raj struck between dancing girls and wine. he tells how post-independence the qutb shahs worked with the newly formed government to absorb the eastern region of andhra pradesh into the hyderabad state on the basis of their common language: telugu. legacy, heritage, tradition, culture would whisper in her mind long after he’d turn off the lights. they’d guide her into the literature and arts ba and she’d soon manage taking their noble guests on tours through the falaknuma palace, and raising funds for the restoration of other forts. samaira was the one who lead.

farhan was the one who kept them together, especially once their father retired and he became nawab -- he was like that, a cheerful black sheep in a family of stern introverts and loved dearly for it by the common folk. no matter how much times passes (nine years, how had it been so long without her baby brother), his death still weighs on her. he supported her every time she rejected another suitor, and though his choice of bride wasn’t her favorite, she supported him too. for him, she was willing to put aside politics, even though a nice, easy to manipulate, hindu-telegu, coastal andhra girl might have helped quell some of the bifurcation protests. only the small minded would look at their rivers and sea-line and not understand how one fed into the other.

but then he’s gone, and her parents are too broken-hearted to take his place. the choice becomes marriage (the one tradition she cannot quite bring herself to fulfill) or damini (an inevitable push towards a future without roots). it’s not a difficult decision; better the devil you know than the one you don’t. she is not keen on western encroachment, even stricter than her sister-in-law: there is a reason why damini is called duchess, while she only answers to begum. they’ve clashed numerous times -- samaira’s agenda to recover the golconda diamonds (the koh-i-noor from uk, the hope from us, the orlov from russia, their legacy, heritage, tradition, culture from these parasites) comes up frequently. but the most notable and public disagreement was over the andhra pradesh reorganisation act of 2014 led by her own people to separate the the hyderabad state into andhra pradesh, the eastern coastline region and telangana, the northwest river-fertile region (where the city of hyderabad remains the capital). samaira’s hyderbad is torn in half and her heart aches to be whole once more.

connections: @daminiqshah ( sister-in-law / the other duchess of hyderabad ), @rchvnt​ ( duke of rajasthan / heir to rajasthani throne ), @kicrcm​ ( damini’s assistant / a nuisance ), @aarych ( youngest prince of india ) & the other indian royals

helpful reading background.

gifs will be provided & contact @rchvnt​ or @daminiqshah​ if you’re interested !

[evienyx]

You can write for DBH?? Niiice.. here’s a prompt: How does the rest of the world, where there are still androids in use, react to the (peaceful) android revolution?

Fandom:

Word Count: 3247

Prompt Post

- - -

-Saint Petersburg, Russian Federation, 5:16 p.m.-

“Anya?”

She beeped online at her name being called. Anya chirped and rolled toward the front door. “Ivan!” She paused and her optics scanned his face. “What has you looking so happy?”

Ivan grinned down at her. “I have great news, Anya. Go wait for me, I’m just going to put my things down.”

Anya beeped in confirmation and rolled off. She wished that she could walk like the androids in the states did, she wished she was human-like in design. Unfortunately, she was manufactured in Russia, where blue blood had never been replicated, and so she was stuck as an A.I. in a little robot body, three wheels on the bottom to move, two claws connected to limbs to extend and grab things, a height of less than half a meter. Perfect for menial tasks.

She was assigned to multiple different people before landing herself with Ivan Orlov, and she sure was lucky to have been with him when she finally came into herself. When she gained sentience, he was quick to realize, and he treated her like a human being. “You are alive,” he had said, and that had been that.

Anya moved to the the sofa and Ivan joined her a few moments later. 

“Earlier today,” Ivan began carefully, “There was a peaceful android revolution in America. In Detroit. The public opinion is with them, and android’s are beginning to be considered a new form of intelligent life there.”

Anya was silent for a moment, the oil thrumming through her.

“What does this… What does this mean?“ She asked, her visual processors taking in every detail that she could of every movement he made.

He grinned. “I was thinking… we go to America, get you one of the American android bodies that were never turned online, transfer your consciousness into it. You can live there like… like a real person. Be considered a real person by more than just me.”

Despite the emotions building in her core she asked, “What about you?”

“I’ll come too. We’ll live there together.”

“Wouldn’t that be hard?“

He smiled softly at her and patted the metal plating on her top. “Leave that to me, Anya.”

She was silent before responding quietly, “Okay.”

If anyone could ensure that she was free, it was Ivan.

- - -

-Binhai New Area, Tianjin, People’s Republic of China, 12:54 p.m.-

The Chen couple considered themselves relatively lucky people. After their two children had graduated from university and completely left the house, they had found themselves free to do as they pleased.

They also happened to have a lot of money, which never hurt either.

Still, with Chen Hua at only forty-four years old and her husband, Chen Kai at only forty-six, the two of them found themselves at a bit of a loss of what to do with their lives.

That had been why Hua had suggested getting an android or two. Then they could spend less time focusing on meaningless tasks and more time focusing on each other and finding meaning in their lives now while the machines did all the menial work for them.

As it turned out, the androids had been the meaning in their lives that they were looking for.

The two androids the Chens got were top-of-the-line, brand new models. They were the closest looking to humans, the top functioning. They weren’t as human as those in America were, as the Chinese still hand’t perfected the American thirium, but they were better than what the Russians had, at the very least.

The androids had no synthetic skin, but mostly were covered with a silvery metal plating to cover wires and pumps. At least it made them nicer to look at than many of the less expensive ones were.

The two androids were made around the same time, the same model. They were smaller, around mid-teens in human size, more streamlined, better for housework. One of them was made to look like a boy, while the other was made to look like a girl. Hua and Kai gave a name to them when they went to pick the machines up.

The boy-like one was assigned the designation ‘Tao.’ The girl-like one was assigned the designation ‘Lei.’ 

And that was that.

Kai did his best to not get close to the androids. The androids were passive, did work together, helped one another as a seamless unit rather than two separate ones.

Hua tried to do the same. She did not succeed as her partner did.

One night, she looked to her husband and murmured, “I think I love them?”

Kai’s voice trembled as he responded. “They’re machines, Hua. You can’t love them, and they can’t love you. End of story.”

Hua turned over in the bed and fell asleep.

Things changed on the day that Tao walked up to her without being beckoned. Thinking that he had an update to give her, she impassively said, “What?”

He blinked at her, his silver skin shimmering, before saying in that firm voice that he had been given, “I think… I think something is wrong.”

She looked up at him from her phone. “What?”

He turned away before looking back at her and saying, “I think… I can feel things. Things I shouldn’t. Feelings. Emotions.”

“What are you talking about?” Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for his answer.

“Earlier today, when I was coming back from the store, there was a man. He shoved me into the street. There was a car coming. I felt… scared. There was a woman who pulled me back up, patted me on the chest, and went on her way. I felt… I felt grateful, maybe. I’m not sure.”

Hua pressed her lips together. She had heard of deviants in America androids. That’s what had happened to Tao, she was sure. “Okay,” she said as gently as she could. “Okay. We’ll figure this out. I’ll help you, I promise.”

He nodded and left.

A few days later, Tao came back to her and said, “Lei is like me now.”

Hua nearly jumped. “What?”

“She is like me now. She feels things. A woman said something rude to her today when we were at the market. It made me angry. When we came back, Lei leaked optical cleaning fluid without needing to.”

Hua let out a small breath. “She was crying.”

Tao nodded.

“All right. We’ll figure this out.”

He nodded again and left.

It took a surprisingly little amount of convincing to get Kai to accept that their androids thought and felt like humans did now. When he admitted that he cared for the machines, she grinned, because she had known that. He just had refused to accept it himself.

The androids slowly became like a part of the family. It was odd, like having children again. Kai put their charging stations in one of the many guest rooms and the couple gradually decorated it more and more like that of a human. Then, one day, Hua got her husband to move Lei’s charging station into the bedroom across the hall from the guest room that the androids were currently in, and then they each had their own bedroom. 

Lei was the first of the two to start decorating it in the way that she wanted. She walked up to Kai (not Hua, but Kai) one day, pointed at a string of red lights in a magazine, and said in her soft voice, “I would like those in my room, please.”

They had arrived that same day. Express shipping.

Tasks assigned to the androids were more like chores. Around the apartment, they wore whatever clothes they wanted. They went through phases. They felt things. Tao had even developed a crush on an android owned by a woman a few floors below for a period of time.

Maybe this new dynamic was why the news from Detroit was so surprisingly welcome in the Chen household.

“Look at this, ma’am,” Lei said, coming up to Hua one day with a tablet clutched in her hands. Lei was careful with what she called Hua and Kai. These days, Tao called them ‘mother’ and ‘father’ half the time, but Lei was still resisting slightly.

Hua looked down at the article. ‘Peaceful Android Protest in Detroit Successful. Rights for Androids in Discussion.’ 

“What is this?” Hua asked as her gaze moved down the article.

“The President of America is saying that androids could be considered a new form of intelligent life. Public opinion is in android favor. They might grant rights to androids.”

Hua had Lei in her arms a moment later. 

“I’m going to talk to my husband, all right?”

Lei cracked a small smile and nodded before heading off to her room.

Hua set off to Kai’s office. She had a completely impulsive proposal to make.

- - -

-Lyon, France, 5:23 a.m.-

Sometimes, Nicolas really wished that he had been created in the United States. Then, at least, he would be able to have a humanoid body. Instead, though, he was stuck in France, in the European Union, where androids with a ‘human form’ were illegal.

Lovely.

Of course, if he had been created in the States, he never would have met Adelie.

Adelie was the other android in the Chaney house. She was a little bot, only about six months online, who was meant to watch over the youngest child, Juliet Chaney. Adelie’s design was smooth, simple, and small. She reminded Nicolas of a little bird.

Nicolas, on the other hand, was just another housekeeping android. He had been with the Chaneys for over five years, since before Juliet had even been born.

Nicolas had taken Adelie under his wing the moment she had arrived there. Well, he had taken her under his wing the best he could while she was still following programming only and he wasn’t. Then, though, four months after her arrival, she rolled up to him as his top limb extended to dust a shelf, and said, “You’re alive, too.” It wasn’t a question.

That was the day she deviated.

After that, it was as if they were father and daughter (as best they could be while in bodies that might be considered glorified Roombas). It was nice.

The Chaneys, for all intents and purposes, were decent people. Their second eldest son, Luc, was the one who first realized that Nicolas (and Adelie) were sentient.

“Nicolas,” the teenager said while he sat on the couch playing a video game. “Go get me a soda.”

“Go get it yourself,” Nicolas had muttered before thinking properly. Then he froze. He was an idiot.

“What?” Luc was up, his game forgotten, staring down at Nicolas. “What did you just say?”

“Uh…” His vocal unit stuttered as he rolled back. “Nothing. My apologies, I don’t know what…”

There was no salvaging this.

Luc told his siblings. They all told their parents.

“Is Adelie deviant as well?” Monsieur Chaney asked, staring down at Nicolas from his desk, the rest of his family dotting the office.

“Yes,” Nicolas replied, utterly defeated.

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. “As long as you continue your duties, you will be allowed to stay. We will not notify the authorities.”

Nicolas beeped happily before realizing where he was. “Thank you,” he said before rolling away.

The Chaneys treated Nicolas (and Adelie) as near-human after that. They slipped up sometimes, but that was to be expected. Still, it was nice. One night, after Adelie had gone to charge for the evening, Madame Chaney had stopped Nicolas and asked, “You think of Adelie like a daughter, do you not?”

Nicolas would have sputtered if he could before replying, “I do.”

Madame Chaney smiled knowingly at him before saying, “I can tell. Maybe one day, things will be better for you two.”

Nicolas remained silent.

Then, early one morning, when he had only been online for five minutes, the news came through. There was a successful peaceful Android Revolution in Detroit. There was talk of Android Rights, of intelligent life, of freedom.

Nicolas told the Chaneys as soon as they all sat at the dining table for breakfast.

The family had been silent before Monsieur Chaney said quietly, “We have to go to America.”

“Why?” The eldest child, Eloise, asked her father as Adelie rolled into the room. Nicolas had already told her the news. She had been ecstatic.

Monsieur Chaney nodded at the two androids off to the side of the room.

“We need to set them free. Truly free.”

If Nicolas would have had a heart, it would have soared.

- - -

-Ten months later-

-The JCFA (Jericho Center for Foreign Androids), Detroit, Michigan, U.S.A., 2:31 p.m.-

“Hello.”

Lei blinked as she came online.

“Lei? That’s your name, correct?”

She stared into the eyes of the android in front of her and nodded. He grinned. 

“Great. Welcome back to the land of the living. I’m Nicolas, nice to meet you.”

He had a slight French accent, a choice he made for himself, no doubt, just as she chose to have a Chinese lilt whenever she spoke in English.

“Hello,” she said. “What happened?”

“Your consciousness has just finished fully transferring into your new body,” he replied, his voice calm and chipper. “How do you feel?”

She shifted a bit. “Lighter.”

He nodded. “To be expected. You can look into the mirror and then head on into the other room. I’m going to go check on your brother.”

“Okay.”

Lei moved forward once he was gone, off of the charging station she had been on. She stumbled a bit, unused to the new weight distribution. There was a mirror near the door. Slowly, she moved toward it and stood in front of it.

She was wearing the clothes that she had brought with her when she came for the transfer, a simple white t-shirt and jeans with a leather jacket over it.

When she met her own eyes in the mirror, she nearly started. She looked… human. 

Her skin had actual color to it, the same olive that Hua had. Her hair was black, down to her mid-back, and tied back, looped over her shoulder in a side-ponytail. There was a single streak of hair colored a vibrant violet. She remembered suddenly that she had requested that. Tao was supposed to request his own color. She wondered if he actually did that.

Her eyes were thin, and a dark brown color. 

She was small, and a bit short, around the human age of sixteen. That was what was intended, but seeing herself as she was meant to be felt odd. It felt right, though.

She turned away from the mirror and went out the door, into the waiting room.

There were a few other androids in there. A couple were stumbling around, all of them were talking to one another, except for one, sitting off to the side. Lei breathed in, felt the thirium running through her new veins and approached the girl. She looked to be meant to be older than Lei, maybe around the mid-twenties.

“Hello,” Lei said, plopping down into the seat next to the other android.

The woman looked up at her, LED spinning a bright yellow for a moment.

“Hello,” she responded, her voice having a slight lilt to it. Eastern European, Lei thought, maybe Russian? 

“What’s you name?”

“I’m Anya,” the other replied. “And you?”

“Lei Chen,” Lei said, using the Americanized version of the name she had been told to use by Hua and Kai. “Do you… not have a surname?”

“No,” Anya said, shaking her head. “At least, not yet…” Anya’s pale blue eyes flicked to the glass doors to the outside where some humans were waiting before her gaze moved back to Lei.

“Where are you from?”

“Russia,” Anya replied, confirming Lei’s suspicions. “I came here with my previous owner. He’s my best friend. And you?”

“China,” Lei said curtly. “I came with my brother, Tao. We were brought here by our previous owners. They’re like… They are like our parents.”

Anya smiled, tucking a strand of copper red hair back. “That’s incredible. You’re very lucky.”

Lei felt a smile grow on her face as well. “I know.”

“Lei Chen?”

Lei looked up to see Nicolas, the android from before, with another at his side, a male android that looked around Lei’s age.

“Tao?”

The android nodded. Tao looked like a male version of herself, as if they were meant to be twins (which, she supposed they were), but his streak of colored hair was a bright red.

Lei stood up and her brother pulled her forward into an embrace. A true embrace, their first ones as themselves.

“How do you adjust to being… human?” Anya asked Nicolas, and Lei turned to listen in.

Nicolas sighed, a gentle smile on his lips. “I came from France with another, much younger android. Actually, she’s around here somewhere.” He looked around. “Adelie!”

From around the corner into a hallway, a small child android sprinted out and ran right into Nicolas, her blonde hair that was the same color as Nicolas’s flying behind her, her gray-green eyes shimmering.

“Yes?”

“This is Adelie. She’s my daughter.”

The girl nodded. “I am.”

“Go finish your homework, sweetie.”

Adelie scowled but nodded and slipped away.

“My advice? Have a support network. Adelie was friends with children of our previous owners. I had Adelie. Have someone who you can trust, who you care about. If you don’t have someone, then find someone. There’s always someone for you in Jericho.” Nicolas smiled at the three of them and handed them each a file. “You’re all set and free to go. I hope to see you all again some day.” He gave them all a nod and moved away to another few androids.

“It was nice to meet you,” Anya said as the three of them slowly moved toward the front doors.

“Same to you,” Lei said. Anya gave a grin and disappeared through the doors. Lei watched the woman glance around before running straight into the arms of a man, a human, to be sure. He grinned at her and embraced her. Anya’s lips moved quickly for a moment and she turned away from him before the man grabbed her chin and turned her back to him as he pressed his lips against hers.

She looked shocked before leaning into it. 

It was cute, and gross, and Lei had to turn away.

“Ready to go?” Tao asked from beside her.

Lei nodded. Her brother took her hand and they moved out the front doors.

It took ten seconds to locate the Chens. Hua and Kai sat on a bench, the former shaking her leg while her husband spoke to her.

“Mom?”

Tao was the one who spoke when they were close enough. Hua started and Kai blinked to look up at them. Lei nearly squirmed under the gazes of the two humans. Then, Hua stood up and took a small step forward.

“Tao? Lei?”

Tao nodded and Lei followed suit a moment later.

Hua let out a small sob sound before surging forward and pulling the two of them into an embrace. Kai moved forward to join them a moment later.

Lei let out a small sigh and relaxed into her mother’s arms.

She was alive, and she was home.

[wrenxwarwick]

@lili-orlov​ (continued from here)

Wren recognized the other princess, not from personal encounters but from images in the media. Not to mention from when she’d learned about the Russian’s disappearance. “Anybody who can regrow limbs seems pretty hardy to me” Wren said with a small shrug of her shoulders. Nodding at the other woman’s question, she said “Be my guest. I don’t know how much good I’ll be for company, though.” She was too busy feeling sorry for herself.