#anastasia's letters

[twovampswalkintoa]

Vitja,

09.10.1920

It is you I struggle most to write a farewell for. Four letters sit beside me with blotted ink and poorly worded well-wishes that you will have no interest in hearing.  

You are the oldest of my childer, including mortal years, of which I must. I must acknowledge the many plans I had for you. You were to be my son, but you begged that you become my equal and yet I am still unable to look you in the eye. You, of all the men that have tried to take his place, look the most like him. You have the same curl to your grimace, the same lilt in your native tongue. I wanted to teach you how he wrote, how he spoke, how he walked. I wanted to reincarnate my son in you. 

I wish I had done the selfish thing in keeping you for myself. I wanted you to stay with me. I still do. It pains me every time we speak, knowing that you chose this path and became your own man. It is selfish and cruel of me to wish you never had the autonomy to escape me, and yet I wish it regardless. 

It keeps me human, this guilt, more than Irina does. More than my boys do. Many of our kind stare at me, now in my sixth century, and cannot comprehend how I can withstand to sleep with mortals in my bed. They are repulsed by my humanity and yet they are desperate for my secret. 

You are my secret. 

My unliving, unending son. My longest, most agonising love. I cannot extricate one form of affection from the other. I cannot escape feeling. I never wished to. 

I will die soon. You will not know when - I know you are the most out of touch with the way our Blood resonates with things yet to come. I wanted one more decade to put my affairs in order. I fear I have made more than one mistake as of late, mistakes I already made with you and Irina. I fear I will not survive the carnage twice. 

Things have changed since I wrote the others’ letters. 

Stay safe. I love you.

Yours,

Ana.

[roses-of-the-romanovs]

Maria Nikolaevna, the Lefty

"Of course, it's more difficult to for Maria Nikolaevna and Anastasia Nikolaevna to write, but all the same, give them my greeting and my impatient expectation from them, a letter, especially from Maria Nikolaevna, from whom I have not received a line yet, and meanwhile I am wondering whether it is true that she forgot me and does not want to write because she is not allowed to write with her left hand, and the right one refuses to write. Yes, and please tell Maria Nikolaevna what I saw five days ago in a dream: her right hand index finger and little finger were bandaged. After all, that's what the thoughts mean. In the afternoon I puzzle in my head, why she does not write, but in my dream I see the reason I did not think about, because I know from your letters that you are all, thank God, healthy." - Petr Vasilievich Petrov to Olga Nikolaevna, 1909.

[foreverinthepagesofhistoryy]

~ ♔ ꧁ OTMA ꧂ ♔ ~

❧ “In the darkness of the mystery which surrounds the fate of these innocent children it is with poignant emotion that I recall them as they appeared, so full of life and joy, in those distant, yet incredibly near, days before the World War and the downfall of Imperial Russia.”

❧ “Olga was perhaps the cleverest of them all, her mind being so quick to grasp ideas, so absorbent of knowledge that she learned almost without application or close study. Her chief characteristics, I should say, were a strong will and a singularly straightfor, ward habit of thought and action.”

❧ “Tatiana was almost a perfect reincarnation of her mother. Taller and slenderer than her sisters, she had the soft, refined features and the gentle, reserved manners of her English ancestry. Kindly and sympathetic of disposition, she displayed towards her younger sisters and her brother such a protecting spirit that they, in fun, nicknamed her "the governess."

❧ “Marie had splendid eyes and rose-red cheeks. She was inclined to be stout and she had rather thick lips which detracted a little from her beauty. Marie had a naturally sweet disposition and a very good mind.”

❧ “Anastasia, a sharp and clever child, was a very monkey for jokes, some of them at times almost too practical for the enjoyment of others. I remember once when the family was in their Polish estate in winter the children were amusing themselves at snowballing. The imp which sometimes seemed to possess Anastasia led her to throw a stone rolled in a snowball straight at her dearly loved sister Tatiana. The missile struck the poor girl fairly in the face with such force that she fell senseless to the ground. The grief and horror of Anastasia lasted for many days and permanently cured her of her worst propensities to practical jokes.”

- Anna Vyrubova (friend and personal confidante of Empress Alexandra Feodorovna)

[orionis13]

A dynamic duo can be estranged cousins with the family keys

[the-last-tsar]

"It is for me to thank you, my darling, for coming here all the way with our girlies and bringing here life and sunshine notwithstanding the rainy weather. Of course, as usual, I did not tell you half the things I had intended to say, because when we meet after a long separation, somehow I get stupidly shy and sit and gaze at you - which already is a joy for me!"

Letter from Nicholas II to Alexandra, where he thanks the visit that she made together with their daughters to the Stavka headquarters, where Nicholas was with Alexei. July 13, 1916.

A lifelong passion | Andrei Maylunas & Sergei Mironenko

[last-grand-duchess-of-russia]

10 years old Anastasia Romanov Kremlin letter, [29 May 1912].

How is your health. It is hot here 30 degrees in the sun. I just got back from Neskuchnyi [1]. There was an outing in the morning and there was a worship service in Uspensky cathedral [2]. It was so sad to leave Levadia [3]. and I feel terribly sad that you are not here. Mari [4] and I live in the blue room Olga and Tatiana in the red, Nikita Fyodor and Andrei have tea with us and play here. Do you have a stick? Nikita is terribly naughty. It was terribly hot on the train.

“ Darling Shura,

Olga, Mama, Papa and Tatiana were traveling in a noble [5], like in Kiev. I feel better but sometimes bad again. Tomorrow there will be an inauguration of the monument [6]. Do you think you will come soon or not. They say that we will raise the Standard [7] on June 29, so you need to hurry. Now after Moscow I want to go to Levadia. We made a stop in Harkov. There were Ladies with Mama and Papa had reception of the deputies. Tatiana received a good gift today for her celebration [8]. We had a marvelous voyage from Yalta to Sevastopol [9], the weather was hot and marvelous in Sevastopol [10].

Will stay in touch. Big kiss to you. With love

1. The oldest park in Moscow.

Truly yours Anastasia

The envelope is plain because people like to read, when it says Moscow or Standard [11]. ”

2. Principal church in the Kremlin.

3. Tsarist summer palace in the Crimea.

4. Grand Duchess Maria.

5. Slang for a train cart for nobility.

6. Tsar Alexander III monument inaugurated on May 30, 1912.

7. Navy flag, the main Imperial yacht of the Tsar had the same name – The Standard.

8. May 29th is Grand Duchess Tatiana’s birthday.

9. Cities on the Black Sea.

10. A city in the Crimea.

11. The yacht, Standard.

[otmaaromanovas]

Nicholas II in a letter to Anastasia:

"I am bored without you, my dear Shvybz. I miss the funny faces you make at meals."

SOURCE: Note from Nicholas II to Anastasia Nikolaevna as part of a letter sent by Maria Nikolaevna, March 18/April 1 1918. Russia's Last Romanovs: In Their Own Words by Helen Azar with Eva & Dan McDonald

[foreverinthepagesofhistory]

OTMA + selfies

The girls seemed to love taking what we now call in the modern day, selfies! There are some photos of their parents (and uncle Misha 🤭) doing it so it seems that they learned from them!

“I took this picture in the mirror, and it was hard because my hands shook…”

— Anastasia Nikolaevna, 1913

[hotasfahrenheit]

i have a profile name that's a song reference to begin with so i might as well do The Thing with songs for each letter because i saw @sparklyeyedhimbo do it 👀👀 so here you go:

H Hero - Monsta X

O Once Upon A December - Anastasia OST

T Time Bomb - Rancid

A Atlantis - SHINee

S Shining On - Big D and the Kids Table

F Furr - Blitzen Trapper

A Any Way You Choose To Give It - The Black Ghosts

H Hello Future - NCT Dream

R Rocky Road To Dublin - Dropkick Murphys

E Electric Hearts - WayV

N No Blueberries - DPR Ian (with DPR Live and CL)

H Highway To Heaven - NCT 127

E Erase Me - Oneus

I Innuendo - Queen (my all time most favouritest song ever, hands down, for always, will never change)

T Trespass - Monsta X

god these things are so hard, as soon as i start trying to think of songs my brain is like "you don't know the name of a single song and you've never known any songs in your entire life" 🤣🤣

i decided since my name on here is a reference to Gambler by Monsta X but there's no g's to list it under that i would just start and end it with Monsta X songs 💖

i'm not tagging anyone since i just felt like doing this so do it if you see this and you want! (you're supposed to tag the same number of people as you have letters but uhhhh i am not gonna do that, idk who i would even tag anyway besides @poetry-protest-pornography who would see this even if i didn't tag her and then do it anyway)

[bereft-of-frogs]

The Locked Tomb is such a normal series, two of my favorite characters haven’t actually appeared yet and I don’t find anything strange about that

[wyvernquill]

I only know about Anastasia through the wiki plot summary, but the parts you've posted so far of the Sandman Anastasia AU makes me excited to read more.

Read the part with the Hob and Dream interaction on the staircase and. The Angst. The potential future angst when Dream finds out what reward Hob actually asked for (assuming that's in line with the movie?) and he runs through this exact conversation in his head again! With those last words he spoke to Hob playing on repeat.

An evil part of me wants Hob to die in his efforts tying up loose ends (but succeeding) and for Dream to find out everything when it's too late to change anything. Maybe shortly after Hob's death. Or perhaps he isolates himself from the world and shows up at the inn 100 years later only to then find out the truth. Dream can never make amends and never gets closure. He settles further inside himself, putting up more walls between himself and the world. Or this is his tipping point.

Maybe Hob leaves behind a letter for him, apologizing to Dream asking not for his forgiveness but wishing him well and hoping that everything is good now that he's back to who he was. That he's happy.

Or, Hob does succeed and survive, and lives out his full life. But still dies before the 100th year meeting, that Dream shows up to.

Don't know the extent of Dream's power in the AU, if there's the Dreaming, if he can feel when a dreamer dies or not enter the Dreaming anymore. Bc in either scenario, what if he decides to never contact Hob again, but he feels Hob's death (bc he can't help but to keep tabs on Hob, despite everything), when, since Hob got his reward, !shouldn't! happen? And that's how he finds out.

BUT while that sounds tempting I'd really rather have the Angst train and the Happy Ending.

Thanks for reading my ramblings!

(Anastasia AU masterpost here!)

Thank YOU for sharing them, I enjoyed them very much! :3c

I'm very dedicated to happy endings, so don't worry, there'll be no great final tragedy... HOWEVER, I did feel tempted to write a sad little something, so I'll juuuuuust put that under the cut here....

(This is NOT CANON to the Anastasia AU - think of it as a hypothetical Bad Ending nightmare at most! Also, warning for major character death, of course.)

(I guess I'll still tag @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans and @sunshines-fabulous-legs even though it's not technically canon to the AU...)

A hundred years pass in a blink.

Dream is busy, oh yes, very busy indeed, gathering his surviving dreams and nightmares together, carving out a tiny, miserable approximation of what was once his realm to house them. The New Dreaming is not what it once was, but it is enough - and where it is not, he works harder.

(If he is busy, then there is no opportunity to think of a time where he was once humans, with human needs and wants and loves. He can banish those memories from his mind, push them under layers and layers of plans and tasks, and feel his heart grow only ever so slightly heavier with it.)

His siblings are as busy as him, all trying desperately to recover scraps of their former strength. Sometimes, he helps them if he can, other times he is simply there to lean on and to hold them if he can't.

In those hundred years, Destiny wept - once, only once, but that was already more than Dream should ever have thought possible - in front of him, Desire screamed and howled and heaped verbal abuse on him in their frustration far more frequently, and Delirium clung to him as her physical form wavered and scattered like iridescent oil on a puddle. She slipped through his arms whenever he tried to hold her in return, and that was, perhaps, the worst of it.

No word of Destruction, Despair quiet and reclusive... and Death oh so tired. The humans now walk to The Sunless Lands without her, often refuse her hand if she tries. Dream can tell how it breaks her heart, and how carefully she hides it for her siblings' comfort.

It's a difficult century for them all.

But some things get better.

They heal. They grow. They recover. Humanity loses grip of their hatred, forgets about what they once did to the Endless, or why. It will take many more centuries, perhaps millenia, to undo all the harm that has been done - but be undone it will, that much is clear even after just one hundred years.

They have hope, still and always; and they have each other, and the truly endless love they each feel for their siblings. Dream is no longer lost and alone in the cold and the snow, as he once was as Murphy. He belongs now, something he has always yearned for, and it is a precious thing indeed.

But still he-

Sometimes, he-

(Hob Gadling and his smiles, Hob Gadling and the warmth of his hands, Hob Gadling and his ever-laughing mouth.

Hob Gadling asking 'would you come' in a voice too small and afraid for him, and the tears in his eyes at Dream's response.

He remembers these, sometimes, and wishes he didn't.)

A hundred years have passed by, and something in Dream has... it has softened. Gentled. Murphy, that frightened, furious, heartbroken man, or what remains of him in Dream of the Endless - he has healed, too.

He is beginning to regret his harsh refusal, now.

Is beginning to miss Hob.

Is considering, perhaps, to forgive him, even.

(The Corinthian has never bothered Dream again, has never wreaked havoc among the humans. Hob has succeeded admirably in his task, it seems... and perhaps this is something Dream should have recalled, in his aching fury: people are almost always better than one thinks they are.)

The hundredth anniversary of their final meeting on the stairs draws near...

And on an impulse, on the centennial of that fateful day, Dream calls Matthew to him, and slips out of their safe haven in silence, telling none of his siblings where he is bound - though he suspects, from Destiny quietly watching him leave, that one at least knows.

He treads carefully in the Waking, in the human world, but few care to notice him. The Endless are a fairytale, a horror story. A hundred years have washed the truth out of the tale, and there is none of that sharp suspicion in the humans' eyes he recalls from his journey as Murphy.

He is in London in an instant, at the park where he used to feed the birds and steal purses from passersby. Down the street then, to the White Horse inn, and-

And-

The White Horse is gone.

A ruin stands in its place, closed down. The merciless grind of the gears of time have not spared it, clearly.

Dream is, briefly, at a loss. They have not specified another meeting place, and with his diminished powers it is... difficult, even for one such as him, to find a singular human - only more so if that human is immortal, and surely working hard to remain undetected. How will he-

"So you have come," says a voice behind him, and for a moment Dream's not-heart is beating in his throat, and he turns, relief sparking in his chest, the name Hob on his lips like a sigh...

"...sir," Gilbert finishes, standing there alone, and Dream's heart plummets again.

(Gilbert had taken his leave, after the whole affair, had begged permission to remain in the Waking - and Dream had granted it. Gilbert had been such a painful reminder of a time when he's been both at his most miserable and at his happiest, and sending him away had been... easier, then.)

"Fiddler's Green." Dream inclines his head. "My greetings."

"Gilbert. If it please your majesty." Gilbert corrects quietly. He looks sombre, and tired, a far cry from the curiosity and easy cheer of their journey oh-so-long ago. "May I beg a moment of your time?"

"...I was intending to meet..." Dream gestures vaguely to the White Horse, unable to say the words. Say the name. "Do you, perhaps, know..."

"Yes. Yes, sir. I know who you have come to meet." Gilbert blinks a few times, very quickly. Looks down at his hands followed over the tip of his cane. "Please, follow me. I know a place where we can sit and talk."

Dream hesitates, glancing back at the ruins of the inn - what if Hob should arrive in the meantime? - but then reminds himself how close Hob and Gilbert were, once upon a time. Gilbert would not lead him away if not for good reasons.

Quietly, nervously, he follows.

Gilbert brings him to another pub a few streets down, named The New Inn. A sweet, pleasant place, gentle and warm the way Fiddler's Green once used to be - he spends much time here, Dream can instantly tell.

(His eyes search each table for a familiar face. But he finds none.)

They sit, and Gilbert folds his hands, wrings them nervously, before finally pulling a well-aged envelope from his coat.

"This was given to me many years ago by... our mutual friend." He begins, haltingly. There is something achingly sad, something hushed, in the exhausted slump of his shoulders. "He begged a promise from me, that I would be here, on this day, every hundred years, and give it to you, my Lord, if you ever... he instructed me, in confidence, not to suspect you 'ere half a millennium has passed - you have rather defied his pessimistic expectations."

A smile, then... but tears, the dewdrops on flowers in the morning, gathering in the corners of Gilbert's eyes. Fear gripped Dream's heart, and would not release it.

"Dear Robert. And yet, he never doubted that you would, one day, appear. Such faith he had in you."

"Had?" Dream chokes around the word. On his shoulder, Matthew grows uneasy.

"Read the letter, my Lord." Gilbert's smile is gentle as well as sad, as he pushes the letter across the table. "And you shall know all he wanted you to know."

There is a name on the envelope, Dream of the Endless written in Hob's scrawl, still familiar after so many years - and then, (Murphy) underneath it.

Dream dreads what he will find in this letter - but he opens it with shaking fingers, and begins to read, nonetheless.

My Honoured Lord, Dream of the Endless etc. etc. (My dearest Murphy)

It is my fond and foolish hope that this letter finds you well, and that you have since grown to forgive poor, lowly Hob Gadling - who was ever your friend, if you can bring yourself to believe it. (Perhaps you cannot. I wouldn't blame you. But know that, from the moment I first saw you, I cared for you, and never wished you harm. Hate me for the deception, hate me for my greed - but do not think I did not truly love you. Because I did, Murphy, Dream, whichever name you now prefer. I did.) I've asked Gil to hand you this letter if you ever come to the White Horse. Please don't be cross with him, he fought me on this every step of the way, and even now I am not sure if I have sworn him to secrecy firmly enough. If he's blabbed to you, be happy, his loyalty to you has won out over my pleas, which I do not blame him for at all - and if he hasn't. Well. Thank him for me, will you? He's been a true friend to me, always, and I... appreciate his fealty. Now, the most important thing I have to tell you: I refused your sister's reward. Yes, I know. I'm a fool. After all I did for it, too. But you were right. I didn't deserve it, I was a greedy, manipulative bastard... ...and I was in love with you, of course, and couldn't bear the thought of spending an immortal life being hated by you. (Forgive her, too, for not telling you, please. All on my request, not her fault.) I don't know why exactly I refused, in the end. I was trying to prove something, maybe. To me, to you - it hardly matters. Not anymore, at least. I'm going to see if I can't give our pursuer hell, and that'll likely... not end well for me. But even if I am fortunate enough to survive that encounter, I doubt I'll live to the ripe old age of 130-something, so... I'm sorry I couldn't make our appointment, my friend, my love - and after I was the one to suggest it, too. Unfair of me, perhaps... but at least you'll have this letter, and all I wanted still to tell you. If I died, if I am dead now, you must know that I died happy. You are with your family again, you've returned to your true self, and I could help you achieve that. This time, I could help, and I'm so glad. I love you. Foolish, of a mortal, to love an Endless, but there it is. I loved you as Murphy, and I love you still as Dream, and I am happy to know the one I love safe and free and - I hope, I pray - content and living a life of joy. Be well, Dream of the Endless. Think of me, now and then, if you can bear it - and recall, perhaps, that even low and greedy humans may show themselves to be better than you'd think at first. I love you. Forgive me. And farewell forever. Yours, always, always yours, Hob Gadling

A wet splash as a tear drops onto the letter, old ink running slightly under it; and then another, before Gilbert's gentle hands pull the paper to safety.

Dream sits there for hours, crying like a child, like a human, mourning, regretting...

...and admitting, at last, that he loved Hob, and loves Hob still, even now, when it is far too late for love to change any of it.

He would turn back time if he could, beg his father on his knees for the chance to undo this - but he does not have power enough to even ask, and knows he will be denied either way. He has lost Hob; has lost him to anger and jilted feelings, to secrets and unspoken words. To the Corinthian's dagger, or the tooth of time.

He has lost Hob, and his heart with him.

Gilbert and Matthew bring him home, eventually. His siblings comfort him silently, aching in empathy of his grief.

A century has passed, and soon another will start, and pass, and be gone, over and over and over. Life is rich, and goes on forevermore... only without one never-truly-immortal in it.

And Dream will forever remember Hob Gadling, will think of him at every judgement he passes over a mortal life, at every burst of fury in his chest. Will think of kindness, of forgiveness, of friendship.

And, forever and always, of love.

[twovampswalkintoa]

Irina,

19.09.1920

As the manifestation of my guilt, you and I never grew close. I apologise for my inability to reckon with my own melancholy. You could have been a daughter I held close to my heart, but I felt it unfair to you to watch as I always prioritise my sons. 

You have grown to be a powerful and capable woman. I am sorry for many things, that you will always be trapped in girlhood, that you must clutch onto your brother for your continued safety, that you were so tormented in your mortal life and that it will haunt you forever due to the madness of my Blood. 

Stay strong in my memory. I wish to not be ashamed of you any longer. Young Augustus reminds me of you, though he will be your brother’s age when I Embrace him. He has such spirit and tenacity. I think the two of you will find a kinship together of sorts. I do hope your brother gives you the breathing room to allow another Kindred into your life. Augustus is curious and kind. He will want to protect you. 

I hope you can forgive me, child. I never wanted this unlife to trap you in such misery. I only ever wanted to keep your brother happy. 

Do not live in my shadow. Move past me, live fully. Embrace the new century, my Irina. 

With love and hope, 

Anastasia Merai.

[roses-of-the-romanovs]

"Where Princess Ella was, no angry disputes could exist. She was so sweet and just that the other children always gave in to her arbitration. Looking back on her short life I often wonder why we did not see that she was quite too good for this world, her fit companions were the angels. She was a regular little mother, and was never so happy as with the 'tiny cousin,' as she called Anastasie." – Margaretta Eagar, Six Years at the Russian Court

[foreverinthepagesofhistoryy]

Three photos of The Romanov Family with Grigory Rasputin

Photo 1: Top Row: Olga, Middle Row: Anastasia, Alexei, Rasputin, Alexandra Feodorovna, Bottom Row: Maria, Tatiana, Maria Vishnyakova, 1909

Photo 2: Tatiana (obscured), Maria, Anastasia, Rasputin, Alexandra Feodorovna, Olga, 1907

Photo 3: Unkown Woman (if anyone knows who she is please tell me!), Maria Vishnyakova, Alexei, Rasputin, Maria (on the floor), Anastasia, Tatiana (above Anastasia), 1910

The Romanov family’s relationship with Rasputin is unlike the stereotypical “seducing madman” version that you might first hear. Alexei, the only son and heir to the Russian throne, was a hemophiliac (a disease where the blood cannot clot resulting in any minor bump or bruise could lead to severe hemorrhaging and even death) and had many accidents resulting in major pain for not just him, but for his entire family, especially his mother, Empress Alexandra Feodorovna. The Tsar and Tsarina (Nicky and Alix) were desperate to relieve their son’s pain and heard about Rasputin, a renound mystic healer, from some distant relatives and invited him to court to try to relieve Alexei’s pain. He came to court in 1906 and immediately calmed the boy who prior to this point would not stop crying, and managed to soothe both him and his worried family. Eventually the hemorrhaging stopped Alexei eventually made a full recovery. This “miracle” made Rasputin an immediate source of comfort for the family and became a new important friend. He visited the family often and Alexei and his sisters always looked forward to his visits, even Anastasia who was as young as 7 years old was writing to her mother saying:

“Mama darling! I really want to see Him. I wish him and his children all the best, and send Him my best regards, and all his family. I saw him last night, and I was very happy, tell] him please, my dear Mama…To my Mama from Anastasia”

“Thank you, Mama darling. Tell Anya that I send him my regards. Mama, what is his name? I don't Know My Friend's name is, and I love him so much more than can tell you. Anastasia”

Their relationship with Rasputin remained close throughout his life, various visits and letters, Alexei getting hurt and Rasputin writing or saying calming words and sharing aspects of religion. He remained very close to the family until his death, committed by Romanov hands, and they always remembered him as a close friend and confidant.

There was no love or romance between Rasputin and the “Russian Queen” as the tales tell. He was a friend and a tool to help soothe Alexei, her youngest child. A theory historians have, one that I agree with, is that Rasputin didn’t miraculously heal Alexei, his presence deeply calmed and set Alexandra at peace and because of that, Alexei got calmer because seeing a parental figure stressed while you are in pain doesn’t help you get better does it?

[pass1onepr1ncess]

Guys the Anasui craze is coming back I need to [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] and oh my God if I could just [REDACTED] and her [REDACTED] like???? Please tell me I'm not alone in this

[autailome]

les mis 1.1.10 the bishop in the presence of an unknown light

“‘I will weep with you over the children of kings, provided that you will weep with me over the children of the people.’”

can we get all the people that weep and howl about the romanov kids to read this chapter lol