ache of the soul @krxsny - Tumblr Blog

MOVED

So I decided to save me the headache of the constant flipping back and forth on sideblogs for my many anastasia muses i decided to just combine them into one multi-muse blog! So for more content follow over at @ncvaflows !!

vclikaya

MOVED

vclikaya

MOVED

uneplace-ausoleil

#gliesel af #gcneralvaganov

sevreds-deactivated20181129

#dIMA IS SUCH A BAD INFLUENCE I CAN'T BELIEVE HIM

gcneralvaganov‌:

His cheeks, wet and warm with tears, scrunched up as he smiled. His laughter, warm and joyous, splattered in the air like paint flicked onto a canvas and a wall and everything around. Gleb’s rushed hands grabbed Liesel’s hand and he pulled away the fake ring. He slid his mother’s ring onto her finger. He’d had it resized last week in Leningrad by describing Liesel’s hands to the jeweler. It now fit perfectly. He admired how natural it looked upon her finger for a moment, kissing her knuckles and sighing her name.

And the he remembered -

She only said yes because she had no choice. She did not love him. He looked up at her with blurred vision and blinked tears away as he gathered himself. She would be his wife for a few weeks in Paris. When they returned to Leningrad, after he successfully killed the ghost from his past and she understood that he had eyes for only her, he would ask again.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would fail and he would be killed.

At least the woman he loved would have the ring he’d always meant to give her.

His smile wobbled, but he squeezed Liesel’s hand tighter. Groaning, he hauled himself to his feet -

“And if people ask,” he said, settling in beside her and wiping the side of his face to get rid of the tears., “you can tell them I cried when you said yes.”

He muttered to himself a soft “ugh” as he stemmed the tear flow, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t cry often, but it wasn’t that he was incapable. He’d cried during the War when Morevsky had been killed, his first encounter with death up close. Then when his father, and later his mother, died. Only death had ever been powerful enough to make Gleb cry. Now, it was not death - but love. He loved Liesel and always had and if he’d been braver or smarter, he would have proposed to her years ago - not under false pretenses. Would she, he wondered, have said yes? He sighed, laughing on the exhale before looking at Liesel again, no longer crying, but still smiling.

“Don’t tell them I proposed to you on the train on our way to Paris,” he joked. “Otherwise, we’ll have to find, I don’t know, a church to make it official.”

His stomach twisted. He would like that. He wasn’t even religious, but he imagined finding a sleepy, countryside parish and a priest and having the wedding done before they ran off to Paris. Let this be real - the last and best real thing in my life - before I get myself or someone else killed.

Shaking his head, Gleb took Liesel’s hands once more.

“That ring belonged to my mother,” he said. “You can tell people it was her wedding ring if you’d like, but I’ll tell you now: it wasn’t. It belonged… I think to my grandmother, but I don’t know. Just that it is the ring she always told me to propose to the woman I love with. I… don’t imagine myself proposing to anyone else. Do you understand? And I’m going to tell all of Paris that you are the love of my life.”

Even if you think it is a lie, I will tell everyone in the world that I love you. Maybe, one day, before this mission ends… Maybe you’ll believe me at least a little.

She didn’t know what to make of all of this aside from it feeling right.So perfectly right that she wasn’t sure if she could bear for this to end. The soft press of his lips to her hands and she could’ve sworn she heard him say her name, but it was a bit hard to hear over the clacking of the train and how soft he seemed to have spoken. How perfectly the ring fit her hand like it was always supposed to be hers- how stunning it was and how the weight on her hand felt real. Solid. Official.

Desperately she wanted to believe it was real as she laughed lightly while raising one hand to wipe at her eyes that were already wet from her holding back her own tears moments earlier. Her heart ached at hearing him tell the story of the ring. Who it belonged to and then ‘I don’t imagine myself proposing to anyone else.’ and she didn’t know what to make of that. Was this real? Was this part of the cover? It all sounded so real that she wanted to believe him. Believe that she was the love of his life but...

.........this was a cover. They were on a mission.

She just smiled and shook her head. Her heart led her to play into this fantasy for as long as she could. Just for a little while dreams could come true...if only for a little while. “Don’t worry, I’ll say you were romantic, yet stoic and swept me off my feet. And I’d say just the same; that you were the missing part of my life I never knew was gone till I found you.” She laughed lightly looking down to their entwined hands as the ring- her ring glimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window. “-besides I know you don’t care to be married at a church anyhow. That would...contradict our story of who we are.” Soviet Russians who were married and in love. In her mind that whole description seemed like a lie.

“So then-” Her hands squeezed his as she looked up to him with a light smile. “-is there anything else about us that we need to settle into? I feel like you already know so much about me and I about you so there isn’t much to go over.”

#gcneralvaganov

jessciachastain-blog

make me choose: vincent or catherine?

#x. fc

dailybatbgifs

#x. fc

jessciachastain-blog

#x. fc #gcneralvaganov

dailybatbgifs

3x01 // 3x02

#x. fc #gcneralvaganov

@gcneralvaganov

“Sir?” he echoed, voice barely above a whisper.

Shock turned his blood to ice. Sir. This morning, they had been lovers. Now, they were just a general and his secretary. Gleb swallowed. He reached for his tie and loosened it as he stood up straight and tried to smile. This would be easier if she wasn’t so kind and beautiful; if he couldn’t feel her gentle fingertips glide across his skin still. He swallowed hard.

“Liesel…” He crossed the room to her, considering h is actions very carefully before throwing caution out the window. He tilted her chin upwards to look him in the eyes. “There’s no need to call me ‘sir’. Please. I think you know what I need to talk to you about.”

He released her once he was sure she was making eye contact with him. He flicked his gaze from her eyes to her lips and back again. He settled on her eyes.

“Last night… was…” He could have said a million things. It had been tender and passionate, put off nearly too long, the greatest night of his life, utterly unprofessional, enough to make him want to propose. No, he wanted to ask her father and buy a ring. Maybe now was not the time to propose. He cleared his throat. “I can’t stop thinking about you and… us. I need to know that you and I are in agreement that there is an us.”

He squeezed his knuckles behind his back and prayed he didn’t hear the word “mistake” come out of her mouth.

She wondered if he knew how he set her heart racing, blood pounding in her ears now when he touched her. How his fingers easily found purchase under her chin and tilted her head up so their eyes could meet. How she liked the feel of his fingertips brushing her skin and cradling her features. How he moved towards her with a determined stride that knew exactly what he wanted; and to her mind’s surprise he seemed to want her. Instinct put her back into their roles of secretary and general- they had been only that for so long that it was natural and what had happened last night was so new and euphoric she still didn’t believe it completely.

It still felt like a dream that could shatter any moment, but as he continued did she begin to settle more and more into the idea that this was real. The ache for his hands to linger more on her skin certainly felt real when his hand withdrew and the only thing meeting was their eyes.

“In agreement?” She echoed. A part of her reminded her that this was probably still so strange and new to him too, but the word agreement felt as a professional as her addressing him as sir. Still she knew what he meant which was why instead she flushed a soft pink and looked down with a warm smile and almost seemed to fidget in place.

“...I would like to think...that there is an us...if that’s what you’d like.” Thoughts argued darkly that it was possibly that he didn’t want an ‘us’ just a moment or two of passionate nights, but her rational mind for once said otherwise. She knew the man before her. He was a gentleman and an officer and more than that he cared about her. He would never do that to her- not to her. But till the memories of the passionate night lingered in her mind and the flush remained as her eyes couldn’t meet his just yet.

#gcneralvaganov

@gcneralvaganov

Gleb swallowed. He’d always noticed Liesel, as long as he could remember knowing her. But beyond that, it sounded… accurate. Busy with work; of course she didn’t notice him noticing her. It felt too real - but if she’d noticed him, maybe they wouldn’t be on this train. He slid his hand up her thigh to squeeze without hurting her.

“And I,” he picked up hoarsely, “noticed you sooner than you realized, but almost too late anyway. I was certain you were in love with someone else, and I feared I missed my chance with you.”

He drew a sharp, painful breath. It was true - he’d thought for a moment that she loved him. But there was always someone else. The boyfriend. The ex-boyfriend. That admirer from down the hall who kept finding excuses to be in the office. He hadn’t stood a chance - too emotionally unavailable, too damaged to give Liesel the love and life she deserved. But he exhaled.

“Except I didn’t. And when I proposed… you said, ‘yes’.” He paused and withdrew his hand from her.

What a beautiful fantasy. Where would he have proposed? Walking home, past the cafes on the Nevsky Prospekt? On a bridge overlooking the Neva? In this office, on both knees and all but begging? Or perhaps as they lay together, warm and soft with sleep, head full of each other’s sounds and scents, kissing her shoulder as he whispered his question to her? He swallowed. Reaching into his pocket he spoke again:

“I… noticed the ring the government gave you is lucite and brass,” he said. “And that won’t do.”

Sliding to the floor and on his knees he pulled his mother’s ring from his coat pocket. It hadn’t been her wedding ring: she’d pawned that within weeks of his father’s death. But Irina Vaganov had a small, silver ring, studded with diamonds, that had belonged to someone she loved. Gleb never got to meet her side of the family.Sometimes, he thought the ring had belonged to a grandmother; other times, he wondered if… before his father… if there had been someone else. But he tried not to think about it, except to notice that it was markedly nicer than anything else in their apartment. Mama had pressed it into his hand while he was caring for her those last days - not the day she died, but about two weeks before - and said:

“Glebka, if you ever find a woman you love, promise me you’ll propose to her with this. And if you don’t, promise me you use it to make a better life.”

He wondered what she would think now that he was offering it to the woman he loved under false pretenses.

“So let me ask you again - properly, with a proper ring - Elisabeth Andreievna Ivanova…. Liesel, will you make me the happiest man by becoming my wife?”

She would have to say yes. To maintain their cover. But Gleb still held his breath, in case she pushed him away. He had fallen in love with a remarkable woman. Even if she only accepted on behalf of their cover story, Gleb knew it would make him the happiest man in the world to see Liesel wearing his ring. It would make this feel more real to Gleb than anything else. And if - when - he could not perform the task asked of him, it would be safe with her, no matter what happened to him.

“-you didn’t know that I never loved him. Not like...how I’ve always loved you.” Her head was still tilted down as she stared at her hands in her lap and her voice soft and shaky. She didn’t know how the words were coming out, but they were and for a moment she could pretend that she was being completely honest in him with the frame of the words. I have always loved you- this isn’t just our cover story. This is me. However, her rational part knew better than to believe the delusion, but at least this would sell the story. It would make it seem real...because it was for her.

Despite the gentle but firm hand that trailed up to her thigh meant reassuringly- it felt painful. How had she wondered what his hands- his lips would feel like brushing across her skin. How a deep secret part of her wondered what his hand would feel like sliding carefully up her skirt or pulling her in by the waist? But then the hand was gone and instead he reached into his pocket to dig out something else while sliding to the ground in front of her knees.

A look of confusion appeared on the brunette’s features as she now looked up to meet his eyes at the strange words then down to the item in his hands. The ring on her finger now felt odd. She never wore rings so she supposed that was why; though she knew it wasn’t entirely the case. Once or twice she had tried her mother’s wedding ring and that just felt...different. Better despite how small her fingers were for that ring.

This ring sitting in his hand however was stunning. It practically glittered in the soft light of the cabin and made the ring she currently wore look like some washer ring from a machine. A soft gasp escaped as she stared at the stunning ring and struggle to listen to the words he was saying to her. Her heart cried out yes- her mind reminded her that this was all fake.

-still her heart softly said ‘that ring is not fake’.

A hand pressed to her mouth to keep the sob at bay. It all felt too real. Far far to real. As real as the almost sad smile on her face and the ring in his hands. There wasn’t any other answer she could give him- not really. Cover or not her answer would be the same. Her hands reached out to take his and squeeze it firmly with a soft breathless laugh because she didn’t know what else to do but say-

“Yes. I would love nothing more than to be your wife, Gleb Stepanovich Vaganov.”

#welp im dead with feels #gcneralvaganov

Her memories of the Vaganovs were hazy, but she remembered them. The warm eyes of the son, Gleb and the smile of his mother Irina. She didn’t know what to make of the father Stepan. Distant. Colder, but a part of her had always hoped she had managed to find a way to endear herself to him in some small way. Anyone who knew her would guess it was just the people-pleaser side to herself; always wanting everyone to get along and be happy. She remembered hugging onto Irina’s skirts and holding onto Gleb’s hand as they walked or even despite her nerves pressing a flower into the patriarch’s hand before scampering off to play on the ground of the palace close to, but never with the royals who lived there.

She remembered hot tears falling when she was told the Vaganovs were leaving and she was never told why. She remembered hugging Irina’s skirts once more, but this time a bit more clingingly and much sadly. While she had never considered Irina or for that matter Stepan with paternal feelings she had come to care for them in a way that made their leaving painful. Saying goodbye to a playmate she had known briefly but already loved intensely.

Which was why on the rare chance she was allowed outside and saw the woman, now much older just like she was, she couldn’t help but break into a run at the sight calling her name. A gun shot rang out and shouts sounded behind her and immediately she dropped to the ground in the snow with a sob, her hands covering her head as rough hands of the guards yanked up off the ground while she cried out to the woman hoping she’d recognize her.

She was different now at sixteen. Longer, lithe, the roundness in her features had slimmed but her eyes and hair had remained the same as well as the fondness for this woman and her family. “Irina! Irina, please! It’s me-! Liesel! Irina please, you have to help me, please!” Were the broken sobs from the teenager as she was practically carried off and back into the house that was a prison for the servants and royals.

All she could think about was freedom. Of Gleb. Of Irina and Stepan. If someone could save her from the nightmare that had become her life it was them. All safety and security was gone. The Romanovs had fallen and her uncle was dead. Killed in the line of duty and had left her to share the same fate as the other servants, some had been excused others stayed with the royal family. She wasn’t given a choice and was kept on to help maintain the house, secluded with other servants and only speaking with the Romanov’s in passing, never really knowing them only aware that their time together was ever guarded and watched. Right now all she really wanted was to hold onto Irina one more time, to take hold of Gleb’s hand with his reassuring her that it’d be alright like he used to when they were younger and she was frightened.

#walkingshcdow #mini drabbleish?#-shrugs

TRAINED SILK and GOLD METALLIC EMPIRE GOWN, c. 1908. Sleeveless mint green satin having beaded net bodice insert and gold lame waistband, trained skirt decorated with heavy metallic gold cord, back closure.

#aka liesel's dress for the quartet at the ballet song #-sobs-#its so pretty #x. clothes