Zhenya Lazarov

bullshit, you fucking miss me

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

odettcss‌:

“I… don’t even know where to begin with that,” Odette replied. “Here we go. I don’t know what a benadryl or a 7/11 is, to start with, and now I think I’m too afraid to ask. Isn’t fucking your shadow self kind of incestuous? Added, question, what is a shadow self? Lastly, as much as I admire your dedication to coffee, you dropped this,” Odette sighed, holding out the item that had fallen from the others pocket. “And I thought you might want it back.” 

“Of course you don’t know. No one around here knows, and I need at least another fucking litre of iced coffee in order to deal with that fucking shit.” Zhenya raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-rant to take a sip of said iced coffee. “Those things are sacred to the religion of being an absolute fucking gremlin; I can’t just tell you. And do I look like the sort of person who would own a camo wallet?”

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

“Look-- I don’t care who you think you are.” Zhenya nearly spilled the iced coffee in their hand as they gestured toward the person standing in front of them, but caught themselves at the last minute. “You can’t stop me. You literally can’t. I’ll drink all the coffee I want. I’ll take a thousand benadryl and fuck my shadow self. I’ll fight god behind an 7/11. You can’t fucking stop me.”

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

Zhenya didn’t have a lot of free time. Which was entirely their fault, as their magpie-like fascination with hoarding cash in case of some vague emergency had landed them with two jobs and the vaguer inclination of getting another for when the bakery thing went even more to shit. And it was probably for the best anyways, because it left them very little time to do stupid shit like be nostalgic. 

Sometimes, though, that was the best thing to be. Like a desert where all the rain came at once so it didn’t have to deal with that shit for the rest of the year. More valuable than memory, anyways, were connections. Like Marcus Bulstrode, though he’d had a different name when they’d known him.

Which was what lead them to be sitting on a porch with the closest thing they had to an old friend. A very unusual situation that they weren’t quite sure how to deal with. “I’d suggest we pour one out for the homies, but I’m not about to waste beer.”

@marcus-bulstrode

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

Wanted

-- Ljiljanja Petrovijcova. Chosen heir of imprisoned Serbian crime lord Stanislav Petrovijc. Believed to be 26 years old, though possibly between 23 and 29. Demonstrated capacity for crossing borders. Multilingual. Last sighted one year ago in Sofia, Bulgaria. Believed to be culpable in their father’s crimes.

-- Atanasija Petrovijcova. Less favoured child of imprisoned Serbian crime lord Stanislav Petrovijc. Believed to be 28 years old, though possibly as young as 24. Skilled with muggle mechanics. Multilingual. Last sighted four years ago near the Austrian-Czechoslovak border. May have been apprehended by muggle authorities.

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

toomcnairtocare‌:

Oh yeah, he could definitely see why Moody had kept this one around. The last secretary had spent all her starting very amusing fights with the press, and this one just made sure their boss was completely unavailable. If Moody wasn’t a giant pain in the ass, Walden would almost respect him for his taste in employees.

“Zhenya, yeah, that’s the one.” Walden nodded and did his best to tuck that information away somewhere he’d actually remember. It wasn’t often he actually needed to talk to anyone in the Auror Department but knowing people made things easier. At Zhenya’s explanation, he snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s it. Not that people like thinking about it.”

“If you want an appointment with Auror Moody, non-emergency scheduling requests are only accepted on Tuesdays during work hours.” Zhenya was proud of that rule, but prouder still of how the time frame changed randomly with very little warning. It had done a lot to reduce the number of askers, particularly those with concerns that didn’t warrant a meeting. “If you have material for him, you can leave it on my desk during work hours and I’ll make sure it reaches his desk. That is, however, no promise that he will read it.”

They were always suspicious when Ministry employees greeted them outside of work, as the interactions more often than lead to requests for special favors that they would absolutely not grant. The last thing they wanted to do was incentivise people to speak to them. “Delaying killing people-- again, whatever the nice word is-- is not an emergency. They should have filed their requests in a timely manner and their failure to do so will not expedite the process.”

[siriuslyxpadfoot]

Baking Blues

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

siriuslyxpadfoot‌:

@lazaraisedfromthedead

Sirius didn’t wake up very early most of the time. Right now, though, he was working more than he’d originally planned with Alex missing. He was staying out of the kitchen and at the counter or bar, but that still meant some earlier mornings than he liked. Today was especially early because he was trying to catch Zhenya.

“Knock knock,” he said as he slipped into the kitchen about an hour before open. “Do you do this every day? That’s crazy. When do you sleep?” Sirius cleared his throat. “Not my intention actually. I was hoping I might be able to ask you a favor.”

Zhenya was up to their elbows in flour. They wore an apron over their grey shorts and tank top-- a bakery kitchen was a dreadfully hot place in the summer-- but that hadn’t stopped their clothes from being covered in white powder, nor their black hair from being dusted with it. This was their choice, though-- since Alex’s disappearance, Zhenya had refused to work during any hours where customers could be present. 

“Where do you think the pastries come from?” They asked Sirius, annoyance clear in their tone. “I wouldn’t trust you hobgoblins to preheat an oven, much less pipe a cake.” Well, Zhenya’d never seen them try. They’d been enjoying the job though, experimenting with the recipes since Alex wasn’t around to know. “I’m not taking your shift, I hope you know that.”

[toomcnairtocare]

“Shit, sorry.” Walden said as he accidentally backed into... someone he ought to recognize. He’d seen that face around the Ministry. Nothing about the wiz’s outfit made them at all recognizable even if Walden definitely liked the aesthetic. He gave them another once over as if their name would just appear in his mind. Something with a weird letter, wasn’t it? Moody’s newest secretary.

“You work for Moody don’t you? Surprised the overworked bastard let you have a night off. Isn’t he all about avoiding these sorts of things?”

@lazaraisedfromthedead

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

toomcnairtocare‌:

“Shit, sorry.” Walden said as he accidentally backed into… someone he ought to recognize. He’d seen that face around the Ministry. Nothing about the wiz’s outfit made them at all recognizable even if Walden definitely liked the aesthetic. He gave them another once over as if their name would just appear in his mind. Something with a weird letter, wasn’t it? Moody’s newest secretary.

“You work for Moody don’t you? Surprised the overworked bastard let you have a night off. Isn’t he all about avoiding these sorts of things?”

@lazaraisedfromthedead

Originally posted by michaelstrevinos

Zhenya was very grateful they’d chosen to drink white wine. Whoever had talked them into wearing the white pantsuit they had on was a horrible, horrible person but so far they’d managed to keep it clean-- save the bit of wine that had spilled on their sleeve when this person ran into them. Oh well, what the hell.

“Zhenya Lazarov, yeah. Moody doesn’t care what I do as long as no one makes appointments.” They were unsurprised that their face was remembered after how many people they’d turned away. Probably time to change it. “You’re the um, how do you say it nicely in English? You kill people.”

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

Zhenya Lazarov: Edinburgh Museum of Magic ceilidh outfit

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

kingmeshacklebolt‌:

Kingsley blinked at Zhenya for a moment, mostly surprised they’d actually managed to say something other than: no Moody is busy you can’t see him; because he’d begin to think it was the only thing the wix ever said to him at all. Then he glanced down at Elrond’s customary spot.

“Oh, right. Yeah, sorry. It’s just— he’s at my boyfriend’s right now. I did mean to bring him but they were cuddled up together this morning and they looked so damn cute it felt like a shame to wake them.”

“I don’t think my cat has ever looked cute in his life, but I still try not to wake him up. I get it.” Zhenya shrugged, taking a sip of iced coffee. They were going to need to go back to the coffee shop pretty soon if they were going to get through the day without being able to sneakily pet the dog. 

Maybe they should try bringing Cat to work. They probably wouldn’t even have to bother telling people they couldn’t see Moody with that creature at their desk. “You should bring him tomorrow. Not the boyfriend, Moody’s is bad enough. The dog.”

[editor-in-strange-archived]

Discussions and Disappointment

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

editor-in-strange‌:

Were they high? Rodolphus couldn’t think of any reason why anyone in their right mind would speak to him the way Zhenya was right now, short of his brother. Except that Rabastan was just that- his brother. Of course he could do things others couldn’t. Zhenya had no such excuse. 

“The only people who aren’t afraid of me are weak in the head,” Rodolphus said in a clipped tone. “Or children.”

The quip about his office made his jaw clench. Definitely weak in the head, then. “I earned this office, and I have earned my power. Seeing as you lack any, you’re hardly qualified to comment on it.”

They didn’t take a seat. Everything they were doing seemed designed to test his patience, and he wondered for the first time if they were doing it on purpose. Their next statement confirmed it. “I’m your superior, in every sense of the word,” he said coldly. Not only was he socially above them, but Zhenya was barely a Death Eater, while Rodolphus was in the inner circle and considered among the most loyal of the Dark Lord’s followers. “I don’t offer, I command.”

“Come off it, you’re like a three out of ten as far as being a threat goes. And only even a three because you have money.” Zhenya rolled their eyes, leaning against the door as if they were ready to leave at any point. They were less impressed by Rodolphus than they’d been when they’d walked in, any vague notion of him being a useful ally gone. 

He reminded Zhenya of what they’d been like at fourteen, a rich brat who had never truly learnt the cost of anything. They’d grown out of it. It seemed he hadn’t, which was hardly their problem. “You’ve never truly earned anything in your life, have you?” It wasn’t a question meant for an answer, and they didn’t pause before continuing. “You’ve bought it. You’ve bought this office, you’ve bought your power, and you think that makes you qualified for anything.”

“Let me tell you something, though.” They raised an eyebrow, moving forward like they were just about to leave. “Your ego’s going to be your downfall. You need to stop writing checks your ass can’t cash before you run across someone who gives enough of a shit about you to bother shutting you up.”

[sel-de-la-terre-blog]

Buy Me A Drink |OPEN STARTER|

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

the-bigbadwerewolf‌:

“Oh, I suppose.” Fenrir gave a shrug, not sure where he was speaking of, but also quite unsure of where he was in relation to The Highlands. Nor did he particularly know what Highlanders do. But the stranger seemed more confident than Fenrir and so he decided to trust their instinct. His mind briefly flashed to thing of Highlander Grogg flavored coffee, but it helped him none. 

“It would be much easier if it wasn’t in the center of my body.” Fenrir shook his head a little, wanting to chuckle but not wanting his lungs to contract in that fashion at the moment. “My fingers-perfectly fine to break. My leg? Easy fix, usually for the medi-witches. My nose even isn’t a large deal, as if it sets incorrectly, my face is already scarred, it might even make it look better.”

Though he hated to complain, he was delighted to have someone that would listen to him. The fact that this person was willing to help them by cutting off the shirt -not even Fenrir’s own- made him develop a small glimmer of hope for wizard kind. “You can cut it, that would be easier.” Fenrir removed his hand, which was shaking violently as he grasped the bar stool with one hand and the counter with the other while trying to sit as upright as possible. “I appreciate your kindness. It would be quite weird if I showed up looking like this.”

Zhenya stood up, taking the pocketknife from the table and moving to stand behind the stranger. They grabbed the back of the neckline of his shirt and cut it with the knife, before ripping it down the rest of the way. There was a familiar sense to their movements as they pulled aside the man’s shirt, healing surface cuts and bruises as they went in order to see where the damage really lay. “I’d warn you this will sting, but I’m sure you’re well aware.”

They nodded along as the man went through his opinions on injuries, for the most part in agreement. “A broken leg would likely hurt less, but pain’s not the only consideration. If I had to, for example, hike out of a bad situation, I could do that with a broken rib. Impossible with a broken leg.” They kept working, moving slowly in order to carefully watch where the new edges of the vanishing bruising lay. “You suit scars. Much worse could happen to your face, I guess.”

[editor-in-strange-archived]

Discussions and Disappointment

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

editor-in-strange‌:

Rodolphus’ eye twitched slightly at their familiar behavior, the lack of any formality at all, and he let out a slow, careful breath. Young people made him so tired sometimes, and so many of the new recruits didn’t seem to take anything seriously, let alone fully understand what it was they’d signed up for. 

“My time is valuable,” he said shortly. “This way, I waste as little of it as possible reprimanding children.”

Well, they were awfully blunt. Rodolphus leaned back in his chair, giving them a flinty gaze. “I’m the chief of a newspaper, Lazarov, and the news I peddle comes from reporters. Reporters to whom you have repeatedly denied access to Alastor Moody. It stops now.”

“You might want to ask one of your coward minions how old I am then-- I’m hardly a child so much as I am not afraid of you.” Zhenya crossed their arms, thinking that Rodolphus Lestrange seemed like the sort of person who was likely unused to hearing no. They couldn’t change a lot of things about life, but they could certainly change that. If they were good at anything, it was being a annoyance.

“It’s surprising you never learned anything about power before they gave you this fancy office, y’know?” They raised an eyebrow, purposefully not taking a seat as so not to give the impression there was anything to discuss here. “You can waste all the valuable time you want making demands, but I couldn’t give less of a fuck if I tried. Because from what I see, I’ve got something you want and you’re only making me less likely to give it to you. Is there an offer here, or should I take my valuable time somewhere more fun?”

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

vanja-novak‌:

Vanja could tell that he had startled them, though that of course hadn’t been his intention. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.” Chuckling softly, Vanja gave a friendly smile, turning his gaze to the books they were looking at, purely out of curiosity. Their accent struck him as familiar, though he wasn’t quite sure that he could place it, Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to ask, he brought it up casually when they mentioned that English was indeed not their first.

“Really? What is, if you don’t mind me asking? Course I wouldn’t blame you,” Vanja gave a slight shrug. “Not everyone likes engaging with strangers. But maybe I could help you look.” As someone who had also often preferred to read things that were written in either Bulgarian or Russian to better understand them, Vanja was willing to help browse the aisles if they wanted. “Depends on what you’re looking for, I suppose.”

Zhenya tried to brush off the apology with a smile, though they were aware that the expression generally looked less than reassuring on their face. That was one skill they’d never quite mastered. “Bulgarian is technically my first, but we spoke a lot of Russian at home.” A lie, of course, but not one without a bit of truth. “Anything in the Cyrillic alphabet is less of a headache, when it comes down to it.”

They pulled another book from the shelf, scanning the text on the back for any keywords that caught their eye. “If you can read Russian, I’d appreciate it. I’m looking for anything on herbology or plant science.”

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

“Where’s the dog?” Zhenya asked, gesturing with the iced coffee in their hand to the empty space where the Auror’s gigantic canine usually hung out. The absence had been the first thing they’d noticed when they walked in the door, because as usual they were late enough for everyone else to be already in place. “Don’t tell me you left him at home-- he’s the one good thing about working here!”

@kingmeshacklebolt

[sel-de-la-terre-blog]

Buy Me A Drink |OPEN STARTER|

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

the-bigbadwerewolf‌:

“A sesh.” Fenrir pressed his lips together and smiled through his pain at the strange colloquial terms children had. One thing that Fenrir missed about condemning himself to live at the compound was the changing fashions and trends. He was wearing another man’s clothes, but he had no idea whether they were fashionable in the least. “That does sound like quite the Scottish thing to say, I suppose.”

How to explain to this stranger that his transformation brought him much further south than the rest of his pack of werewolves was, unfortunately not an option to Fenrir in this political climate. So he’d have to white-lie his way through yet another conversation. “I would be quite grateful for your aid, however if you could actually mend the third rib from the bottom of my chest, because shit, it is getting difficult to talk.” 

Fenrir removed his hand from his side, for a moment so that he could try to take a more full breath in, and found himself doubled at the bar in pain. “I do not mean to curse. Breaking my nose is quite alright when in comparison to breaking a rib. How can such a small bone hurt so terribly?”

“When in the Highlands, do as the Highlanders do.” Zhenya didn’t actually know one way or the other if Hogsmeade was in the Highlands or not, but they doubted it mattered that much in a pub this late or not. Though their home country had certainly made them well aware that sometimes borders meant everything-- even before they’d been a perpetual stranger on the run, they’d been a resident of a country whose unnatural borders were never quite meant for peace. 

They raised an eyebrow at the information that the stranger had broken a rib as well as his nose, judging even more his intention to drink before getting it healed. Some people really did have the strangest priorities. “Ribs are the actual worst to break, no judgement here.” They were pretty sure they’d been a worse menace than just some swearing during their trip to St Mugos to get their own broken rib healed. 

“Can you move to get your shirt off, or should I cut it?” They pulled a pocketknife out of their backpack, putting it on the table in front of them. “I need to be able to see what I’m doing, but unless it’s gone and messed something else up a broken rib isn’t too hard to heal. At the very least, I can do enough to make the healers not ask weird questions about recent unsolved murders if you do have to go in.”

[lazaraisedfromthedead]

siriuslyxpadfoot‌:

Sirius nodded. “Communication is sexy and all that,” he agreed, much more interested in her explanation. Pastries… What was the name Alex had told him of the skittish employee? “Do you work for Alex Church?” It seemed best to just ask outright. “I started with him recently. He said there was someone else I probably wouldn’t meet often. You have a pastry perk? I have a drink perk. Must be just part of the way it works for him.”

“Of course you work for Alex,” Zhenya laughed, completely unsurprised that she wasn’t the only semi-stray that her new boss had rounded up. “Yeah, I’m the new one, Zhenya Lazarov. He’s right that you probably won’t see me much, I have another job that means I’ll only really be working at the bakery early mornings and late nights. I don’t know why you’d take drinks over pastries, but he does seem to be one of those people that just wants to feed people.”