#vasya rambles

[vasyandii]

This is how me and my mutuals look interacting with each other’s content

[anarzaabloodladen]

Vasya's the kind of guy to say "I miss you why'd you have to leave me" after his partner goes home for literally any reason. They could be sick and fucking dying and he'd still be mad at them for leaving in that moment.

[cleveradjacent]

I'm so super curious can you tell me more about your interpretation of Yuusaku as a character ^_^

oh thank you for asking! tbh i haven't given yuusaku all that much thought compared to other characters, but i tend to ramble when no one is there to stop me, so this will probably still end up lengthy. (edit from the future: it did)

because of my latest fic and a previous ask, one might get the impression that i dislike him, but i don't. i don't feel one way or the other about him, he's fun to me as a tool for writing ogata and that's about it (same for vasya but this ain't about him). but! ever since i've written 'all that loves you', i've been thinking about the juxtaposition of his good intentions and the more sinister undertones of his worldview, and that's a juicy contrast to sink my teeth into.

on the one hand, he's a naive sheltered kid, a victim of his father and his country. i cannot in good conscience prescribe him ill intent. i believe he suffered at the hands of his father as ogata has suffered -- he was raised an unquestioning lamb to the slaughter and sent off to charge head-first into said slaughter over and over and over until his inevitable end.

not his father, not tsurumi, not ogata, not any other soldier saw him as a person. being disdained for who you are and put on a pedestal for the very same thing are both a kind of dehumanization. he was never hanazawa yuusaku the man to anyone, only a symbol, either in life or in death. even to the story, he's nothing but ogata's plot device. he's barely there. hell, he's nothing but ogata's plot device to me. talk about tragedy.

he wasn't given much time or chance to break out of what he's been taught. all that bullshit about duty and purity and having to be a symbol of both -- when it's all you've ever known, it'll stick. maybe, the inevitability of all i'm about to describe makes him tragic all the more.

and yet!

he is not any naive sheltered kid. he is a japanese soldier in china in 1904. he is dying and leading others into death for a brutal imperialist landgrab. you could argue about how much agency he has over the fact and over his convictions (as a ukranian in russia and the child of an officer, i've had PLENTY of that argument), but i'm not gonna do that here. whatever your stance, the outcome is the same: he's an enthusiastic participant to something truly horrible.

and in the midst of it, his desire to preserve his "purity" comes off as absurd and self-delusional. i'm not arguing for murder; i'm arguing that his belief in this abstract purity, that he has one to maintain in the first place, and, by extension, that he's the only soldier around who should do it makes him extremely out of touch. i've written about this from ogata's perspective in 'this weapon wants' and 'all that loves you': while ogata doesn't think much of the war they're in, he does see a holier-than-thou attitude in the way yuusaku refuses to kill. it's as if he's the only one who can and should keep his hands clean in an inherently dirty ordeal. yuusaku may not himself be an arrogant man, but arrogance does follow from his worldview.

there's a different, more sinister side to this i've explored in 'all that loves you', which i remember you (the author of the ask) (god i hope you're still reading) have read! the world is complex. you cannot let black-and-white thinking dictate your actions without eventually stumbling into a whole lot of harm, whether to others or to yourself. murder is a terrible act, yes. but some people need to be stopped, and for some of them, murder is the only way to do it. if you (the person reading this) haven't read 'all that loves you', it puts yuusaku's views to the test in this exact scenario. and the result is. well. quite fucked up. and it follows pretty seamlessly from what we see of yuusaku in canon, so make of that what you will.

speaking of which, you know how he tells ogata that people like him shouldn't exist while embracing him? also fucked up. yuusaku has the best of intentions, and there's not a chance in the world he has the awareness to go "ok not feeling the emotion of guilt doesn't inherently make you Wrong", but the fact remains: he assumes ogata shares his presumably universal morals and ends up playing right into his insecurity.

there's also yuusaku lacking the self-awareness to know that he's imposing on ogata with his affection. i'm extrapolating here, but i feel like yuusaku's simplistic worldview only allows for affection=good! desirable! and he doesn't stop to question whether it's welcome.

to that: a friend of mine has pointed out once that this astounding inability to read the room could be due to autism. genius take in my opinion. seeing how strong, rigid morals are also an autism thing, i'm convinced now that autism runs in the family. diversity win?

so yeah, to sum this all up, yuusaku has been set up to fail, and fail he did. he's naive, kind, well-intentioned, he's as much of a victim as his brother, but all sorts of messed up things follow from his beliefs and his actions.

and i just think that's neat.

[vasyandii]

Me: Oh man, what should I bring to the function?

Ancient Mesopotamian Yaoi Biscuits:

[badartxd]

I’m crawling up walls exorcist style so I decided to draw my Amell’s family - Revka (the insufferable herbo who **will** fight you, most likely), Daravas (First of Clan Lavellan , lover of lore and shenanigans), and the Creature herself, Vasylysa Amell. Tried my best to put her into a more child friendly expensive outfit.

This is a Sad Image bc while it has a loving family, it’s probably depicting the year Vasya gets whisked off to the Circle *and* has Daravas in Marcher nobility clothes bc sticking around Kirkwall did come with strings attached, even if the Amells have gone through with a lot of “concessions” after Leandra’s eloping.

Revka’s immediate family did try their best in being accepting towards her choice and were doting on the grandkid, while Revka herself made an effort to learn to speak Elvhen at home, which is the language Daravas and Vasya stuck to, and ruffled a lot of feathers by choosing to raise her child outside of the Chantry’s directives.

….. that didn’t really work in her favour when Vasya entered the system.

[vasyandii]

Thank for tagging me in this Picrew @liamthemailman !!

I've been hit by the twinkification ray 😭

I tried to make Nak, Aloke, and Lilavati (to the best of my ability)

I made Alokes Children as well [5/6 the last one was is baby and that cannot be made]

In Order: Zahir, Nasr, Ashanti, Batzorig, Alyona

No pressure tags:

@ghostedbiologist @breadthe @kik0kik0 @kikiharinezumi @imjustsocute other schnucki schnuckums who wanna join

i got tagged by @pingurusama for this picrew

uh so. this would be me if i were a twink i guess its not very fitting for myself HAHA

so i tried it with my ocs ace and queen and even king

safe to say queen looks the best here and you get to see twinkified ace (suffer with me). its personally not my favourite picrew out there but the art style is still pretty

no pressure tags for : @purpleart00 @welldonekhushi @jokest3r @vasyandii @a-man-of-questionable-morals @savlina

[kalloway]

nobody cares about ocs, but may i present u this genshin oc? lmao

this is Vasilisa’s brother, Nikolev. they... do not get along. At all.

[atimefordragons]

RADIUM F

☾♔; July 26, 2020 ☾♔; 8:40am ☾♔; sotd: Hoax (Taylor Swift) ☾♔; cotd: Hinata Shouyo ☾♔; WRC & Related ☾♔; idk, rambles? whatever

𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: The original name of Polonium-210

☆──════ ⋆ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋆ ════──☆

【𝕀ℕ𝕊ℙ𝕆 ℂℝ𝔼𝔻】@ queen-rhaenyra I was originally gonna do a high fashion layout, but then I decided to try for that collage overlay thing in my edits and this set of Lunes' {https://urstyle.fashion/styles/2463605} but I failed. Oh well, whatever.

This set is inspired by this old draft I found where I was writing about the incident when Nika first started falling for Vera, and also Vasya poisoned her at the time. I'll finish writing it eventually. Idk. Kinda missing Rustavya, might bring it back for something, idk.

☆──════ ⋆ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋆ ════──☆

I feel a lot better now. Cried, ate a shawarma and an ice capp (seriously Tims, that stuff is just chef's kiss), talked about my feelings, took a long bath, painted my nails, didn't sleep all night. I feel good. A little petty, but good. I cleaned out a lot of old likes and items - sorry for suddenly giving y'all notes on old sets, I accidentally unliked some sets I didn't mean to. But yeah, I feel good. Gonna try to convince my dad to go to niagara after all. There's a lot of good security measures in place, and in some area's, they'll provide you with masks. I just wanna look at the water and buy something expensive and pointless. And also I need to fix my sleep cycle. I can't go to sleep until at least 10pm.

[shadowtearling]

i realize books that are really atmospheric that you get lost in the feel of it are not... my jam lol i’m definitely a character/plot person over the atmosphere or feel of the world

[anarzaabloodladen]

Rest in peace Vasily Markovich you would have loved Molchat Doma.

[herb-whump]

Vasya: ur my little pogchamp :)

Mikołaj: your little w h a t

[korolnichevoya]

@couronnez​ asked: 

There's a letter hidden beneath the stack of papers now thoroughly stored away in the top drawer of Nikolai's desk. Shuffled between nonchalant conversations and amicable exchanges was Vasily's last goodbye.

Kolya,

I know we haven't been very kind to each other lately. I remember times, before my military service, in which things were different and I long for those now that things are the way they are. I could ramble about the shatters of our brotherly relationship for hours probably, given you have enough kvas to keep me drunk enough to do so but that's not the point. Ravka is at war. The world is changing, you told me it is and I realize only now what that truly means. It means one of us might die before their time and in the unfortunate event of that being me, well congrats, you have received this letter you little shit. Have fun at being Tsar, I was scared of the position and the power that comes with anyway. It was... restrictive. I'd rather have moved to the countryside and bred horses. I guess you would rather be at sea but such is the burden of a prince, huh? Anyway, is it too late to say that I love you, bro? I do. You matter. You aren't nothing to me. You never were. Please forgive me for not being the brother I should have been, I made mistakes and I stand by them. I will miss you, Kolya.

With all my heart,

Your dumb big brother,

Vasya

                 THE  LETTER       had  gotten  lost .  unbeknownst  to  him .  in  the  scramble  of  the  last  few  months  to  a  year       (       the  death  of  his  brother ,  the  exile  of  his  parents ,  a  civil  war ,  becoming  a  demon  and  then  a  king       )       dealing  with  the  minutiae  of  making  the  spaces  of  the  grand  palace  his  own  had  been  the  last  thing  on  his  mind .  it’s  only  now ,  months  after  his  coronation ,  he’s  even  able  to  start  cleaning  out  the  desks  that  have  become  entirely  too  overflowed . 

                he  is  careless  with  it  at  first ,  most  things  for  his  father  and  long  inconsequential ,  and  by  and  large  things  he  has  no  interest  reading  from  the  previous  king  of  ravka  anyway .  so  the  non - descript  letter  almost  slips  past  his  notice .  and  then  the  tail  end  of  a  word  catches  his  eye :       - ya      .  he  looks  at  it .  his  name ,  his        NICKNAME       .  and  more ,  in  his  brother’s  hand .  he  frowns  and  sits ,  the  letter  opener  slicing  it  open  neatly  and  he  unfolds  the  letter . 

                his  eyes  flow  over  the  page ,  something  tightening  in  his  chest  with  each  line ,  until ,  nearing  the  end ,  there  are  tears  streaming  unbidden  down  his  cheeks .  one  hand  is  gripping  it  so  hard ,  the  paper  begins  to  crinkle  and ,  with  the  edge  of  fear ,  he  loosens  his  grip ,  smoothing  it  quickly .  he  swallows  thickly ,  scrubs  the  tears  from  his  face . 

                ❝    oh  vasya . . .    ❞  a  breath  shudders  into  his  lungs  and  he  swallows  back  a  sob .  ❝    i  love  you .       i  love  you      .  you  idiot ,  i  love  you . . .    ❞  and  he  gives  up  the  fight ,  lets  his  forehead  press  into  his  palm  and  allows  the  sobs  take  him . 

[vasyandii]

I've already said this but I'll say it again but better:

I love Clopin’s weapon in the novel. It’s the perfect symbol for a leader of the downtrodden. Scythes were historically tools of labor, used by peasants and farmers to harvest crops, not weapons. Unlike swords or spears, which were the tools of knights, soldiers, and the privileged, the scythe was associated with manual labor and survival.

During Clopin’s time, Romani were (and still are) among Europe’s most marginalized communities, denied access to traditional weapons, military training, and the privileges of armed self-defense, often reserved for the ruling classes. With few options, they most likely had to repurpose the tools available to them. The scythe, would have been at hand for someone like Clopin. A tool of work becomes a tool of resistance.

The scythe also symbolizes death itself (duh), which reaps indiscriminately. It cuts through kings and beggars alike. While death is blind to rank, the poor encounter it far more frequently, as the wealthy have the means to avoid or delay it. In a way, death reflects the working class; ever-present, unavoidable, and inescapable.

The scythe, like death, is not a noble force. It is a laborer’s tool, an embodiment of the oppressed. It works tirelessly, endlessly. It mirrors the struggles of those who toil; unseen, uncelebrated.

[badartxd]

This has literally taken me a couple of weeks now, which is funny bc it was initially going to be a doodley comic but I ended up having fun with the lighting and then procrastinating on drawing Zevran’s fire and rendering his face for 2 days instead… so yeah. I’ll ramble a bunch now.

So! Pardon the jumbled words but this has lived in my head rent free for a month at least! Vasylysa isn’t suuuuper stoked to be out of her element and around so many people she’s unused to, and gets through the first few weeks avoiding socializing with her teammates, aside from maybe Barkspawn. She does, however, like observing, and spends quite a bit of time off to the edge of camp taking little notes and doodling things around her. (Which is also why her image is so much darker! She sits away from the fire, at the tree line.) Which…. Admittedly kinda creepy maybe, but I don’t reckon the Circle is well known for good social skills, especially for ND mages. She is content with staying unseen and minding her business, and captures some things from around camp - Alistair dozing off with Barkspawn, lulled to sleep by Leliana’s songs (I think it’d be of some comfort, given his upbringing. Also Vasya is guilty of that too, Ferelden is rubbing off on her), Morrigan reading what seems to be a grimoire(where did it come from?), Leliana jamming to some tunes with the Fat Lute they picked up from Bodahn(you can really hear the Orlesian in her singing voice), Sten looking over the fire with a bit of a softer, more melancholic and introspective expression than he usually permits (he must miss home, surely), and the newcomer rogue… he almost looks… sad? Which nearly catches her off guard, given his outwardly disposition the past few days. The doodle comes out almost automatically, as she looks up and back down at the page, adding the finishing touches to the eyes. Once she looks up again, the eyes meet hers, the rogue’s face donning a smirk that almost certainly was not there before.

I’m both uncertain and amused about the face I ended up giving Vasya here - she looks absolutely mortified, and she would be, but by the Maker, she takes things a little too seriously. Also, she should really have known better than to spy on an assassin who also happens to be the only other person in camp who’s capable of seeing in the dark. It’s funny, because in truth, both of them are fairly uneasy in their position, Zevran is just much better at masking it with a smile and a wink. That and the Warden’s reaction itself is hilarious and who knows, perhaps he is also flattered?

Ok thanks for reading here’s a close up xD

[feralrosie]

"holding the other’s chin up" for vasya & kent? 🥰

Thank you babe! Inspired by this ask, this other ask and the absolute fuckery of our Rat Circus server, I give you.... this. Way to go with my first MB fic.

**

“Kent!” Vasya called from upstairs, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” His voice wasn’t loud enough, but he was too busy making sure both Annie and Cass were comfortable in their outfits: a vampire cape for one and bat wings for the other. They looked adorable, and it should be enough for a perfect Halloween night, but Vasya insisted on also having matching costumes with him. 

At least she let him choose his own, although he didn’t put much effort into it. A few weeks ago, when she prompted the topic for the hundredth time, he just said he was going as Apollo. An old, yellowish bedsheet wrapped around his body and some dollar-store props would do the job. So there he was, looking like laundry, holding a plastic lyre and waiting for Vasya. 

She didn’t tell him what was her plan and instead made him wonder for two days how she was going to be dressed. He guessed it would also be some Greek deity. Maybe one of Apollo’s lovers? Hopefully not Daphne. Cyrene would be a better fit. 

“Alright!” She called again, jumping two stairs at a time down to his living room, giggling like a child. Halloween was her favourite holiday, after all. 

But when he turned around, she wasn’t wearing anything like a deity’s outfit. No bedsheet was contouring her body. There were leaves in her hair, but not a flower crown. She was dressed as—

Gods know what.

She had huge black goggles on top of her head, almost lost in the middle of curly hair along with two leaf-shaped antennas. Around her neck, she was wearing the furriest yellow scarf he’d ever seen in his life that matched the equally fluffy outfit. A cream-coloured crop top and shorts with a black pantyhose underneath, and a pair of knee-high hairy socks and matching long gloves. Still chuckling, Vasya turned on her heels, showing him the rest of her costume: huge fuzzy wings on her back. What the fuck.

“What do you think?” She asked.

Kent couldn’t answer. He wasn’t a guy of many words, but somehow he had even fewer ways of describing what he thought of it. “What are you—”

“I’m a moth! Not Mothman, just a regular moth. Vasya Wisemoth, if you will.”

“Why?” He couldn’t stop staring. Somehow, even dressed as an insect, she was still cute, but some primal instinct lost in the depths of the human mind was telling him that he shouldn’t trust her. Vasya was a tiny woman, but as a moth she was giant, and that can’t be right. 

“Oh, you know. You said you were going as Apollo, and by the way, you look great.” He tried to mumble thank you but she kept rambling, “So I thought of going as Daphne, but I don’t want to run from you or turn into a tree, so I thought perhaps Cyrene was a better option. But then I figured, Apollo among other things is the god of light, and moths are drawn to light! Isn’t it funny? Sometimes I have great ideas.”

As she spoke, her hands ran along her body, pointing details of her costume and fixing the fur. She explained what species of moth inspired it, a Venezuelan Poodle Moth, and how she made eighty per cent of the entire thing herself.

Kent approached her, confused but intrigued, and before his fight or flight instinct was triggered, he held her chin up to look at him. His eyes must have been intense as he frowned, since blood rushed to her cheeks as soon as her hazel irises met his. They were so close, enough for her furry scarf to tickle the exposed bits of skin of his chest, and for a moment neither had the courage to speak again. 

“Vasya—” he whispered, thumb almost reaching for her lower lip, and she looked like her heart was racing as much as his own, but his next words would make both of them burst into laughter. “Can I pet you?” 

[softestborgov]

Stars Near and Afar ~ Vasily Borgov x OC

Their every step is made slowly, in no hurry. Ksenia and Vasily each have an arm wrapped around the other’s back, clinging onto each other in the cold as though they would freeze if they let go. Each are cloaked in a fluffy coat, topped with matching ushankas on their heads not quite blocking out cold air stinging their faces. 

They both take notice of the sky above, countless tiny sparkles standing out against the gradient between deep blue and black. Wisps of the sky are tinted, mesmerising as waves or magic currents. Each of the white stars fade, then return to view, twinkling about in place. 

“It’s lovely out here, isn’t it?” Vasily remarks, in a hushed whisper. The same one Ksenia loves hearing - then again, when does she ever not love hearing his voice, especially when they are alone? 

“It is,” hums Ksenia. “The night sky is fascinating...” 

She trails off, her voice fading back into silence, but Vasily doesn’t mind. Perhaps her mind is wandering again. It needs to be free to wander every now and then. 

Not that it makes her company any less of a blessing for him, they don’t have to say a word as long as the other is close by. The two embrace as they saunter about, blanketed under the sky giving way to another world. 

Time stretches on. They don’t know how long has passed, nor do they care to find out. Underneath their coats, and warmth spread about from the other, the constraint of time or discomfort slips away. 

But another shadow lurks behind. Unpleasant thoughts of stress and pressure still have yet to depart from Vasily. They’ve drifted off enough to fade into a blur, though a very real blur nonetheless. Absentmindedly, he heaves out a sigh. 

“What’s wrong, my sunshine?” Ksenia is quick to respond. 

“I don’t know.” It’s a statement Vasily is usually reluctant to admit, regardless of the situation, but around Ksenia he can let down his walls built to hide his doubts. “Maybe all it is, is that chess - and upholding my position in the world of chess - hardly ever seems to leave my mind.” 

It’s Ksenia’s turn to sigh. “I understand... would you like to talk about it?” 

“No,” answers Vasily. He doesn’t mean it to push her away; rather, all that will help right now is an escape. 

“I understand that too,” Ksenia says, kind and gentle as ever. “It’s not quite something you can think about all the time.” 

Vasily feels his face flush as he listens to her honeyed voice, softly spoken, reflecting her amicable soul. Her words are correct as well, now being a time he would rather push the worries around chess aside. 

She returns silent again, to the dismay of part of him, but only briefly. 

“Do you see the stars? And the dozen shades of blue in the sky?” Ksenia rambles with quiet enthusiasm. “Look, Vasya, look!” 

As though in a snap, Vasily fixes his gaze on the stars. Before each one can fade from view it returns brighter. Countless delightful specks sprinkle the sky, their luminous white clear against a dark abyss. 

He finds himself smiling. The wisps of clouds - not quite opaque, grey against midnight blue - catch his eye again. 

“Dearest, do you see the clouds? As slow as they are, they’re moving,” he murmurs. 

“They are! They do move!” replies Ksenia, her voice still hushed yet raspy and excited. "I wonder where they’re headed? Are they from elsewhere? Do they travel to send messages, or to return spirits home?” 

Vasily hasn’t thought about it that way. It’s fascinating, all of Ksenia’s whimsical ideas are. Much of his usual thinking is bureaucratic, merely drawn from fact - but the imagination of his beloved captivates him, it draws up a new, refreshing dimension within his mind. 

It’s not long until he adds on to her concept. “Maybe the clouds do both. Maybe little spirits travel on them, carrying their messages to our world along the way, before returning home.” 

“And the spirits’ home is among the stars!” Ksenia chirps. 

The pair share a laugh. It’s not the kind of laughter upon being told a joke; it’s a rarer kind, for the midst of a carefree, joyful moment. 

Ksenia then speaks up again, in a sweet whisper reserved only for Vasily. “You know... you’re still my sunshine even after the sun has gone down.” 

He swears his heart could overflow with the intangible, fuzzy warmth that is love, his love for her. She adores him too, and all they share means everything. In this moment, blanketed under radiant stars beside his beloved, Vasily finds nothing can trouble him.