lovelikeweeds

[lovelikeweeds]

(     *     VALENTINE’S DAY ALPHABET   !    

send some letters to find out more about my muse   !

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not? 

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

#we promise we're not dead

[lovelikeweeds]

fanfic end of the year asks

since it’s december, i thought i’d make a little end of the year ask meme for fanfic writers and readers! reblog and ask away

favorite fic you wrote this year

least favorite fic you wrote this year

favorite line/scene you wrote this year

total number of words you wrote this year

most popular fic this year

least popular fic this year

longest completed fic you wrote this year

shortest completed fic you wrote this year

longest wip of the year

shortest wip of the year

fandom you enjoyed writing for the most this year

favorite character to write about this year

favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

a fic you didn’t expect to write

something you learned this year

fic(s) you completed this year

fics you’ll continue next year

current number of wips

any new fics to start next year

number of comments you haven’t read

most memorable comment/review

events you participated in this year

fics you wanted to write but didn’t

favorite fic you read this year

a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

number of favorites/bookmarks you made this year

favorite fanfic author of the year

longest fic you read this year

shortest fic you read this year

favorite fandom to read fic from this year

*feel free to specify fandoms or a fic depending on the question.

#ask the mods!

[lovelikeweeds]

Anonymously message me (3) things you want to know about me.

#ask the mods! #mod mitya #mod Anyushka

[lovelikeweeds]

Hey all! We aren't dead! These last few weeks we've been doing some serious "research" for Love Like Weeds! Mod Mitya and I went to see the show four times on tour, and had some fun on top of that around LA this last weekend. Now that we've settled down a bit, we're ready to get back to our story! Thank you for sticking with us and being patient as we figure things out.

-- Mod Anyushka

We had an absolutely incredible time seeing the show, it’s absolutely stunning and the entire cast is incredible. These experiences only make us more determined to keep telling this tale, even if we fall off schedule~ Thanks for sticking with us!

-Mod Mitya

#anastasia broadway #Love Like Weeds - An Anastasia AU #Mod Anyushka #Mod Mitya #Love Like Weeds - Announcements #Expect some cosplay pics of the Mods at some point soon

[lovelikeweeds]

Y'all are back!! Favorite character in Anastasia? Favorite setting for this AU? Favorite song (Anastasia and otherwise lol)?

Well, sort of back, anyways!

For me, my favorite Official character is… Gleb. Definitely Gleb. He’s just… so interesting, and the more I look at him, the more nuanced I see him become. I have plenty of other favorite characters, but most of them haven’t shown up in Love Like Weeds yet so… We’ll get to them when we get to them~ My favorite setting for Love Like Weeds is… probably actually the little village they live in in France post-show canon. Favorite Anastasia song is either Once Upon a December or The Land of Yesterday. Once Upon a December is just a classic from my childhood, and The Land of Yesterday is a fun time. Thanks for asking!– Mod Anyushka

We’ve been a little busy with some research, but we’re not giving up!

My favourite in canon is Dmitry, no question. He’s the reason I fell in love with the show tbh, and the fact that his entire arc is about learning to open up and love, learn to be selfless? That’s the good shit. Of our ocs I love them all, but my fave is probably Lyosha, who’s the in universe chronicler of our tale,but you’ll get to meet him properly far later~ Settings? I think my favourite might be Petersburg itself i have…. A lot of feelings about it as a city, and theres so so much stuff that happens there. I also really like our happy ending village, as it reminds me of the trip i took to france myself several years ago. Fave song? From the show, following my brand, My Petersburg. Its the first I really heard and it just…. Speaks to me. Stay I Pray You and Crowd of Thousands never fail to make me weep, and Everything to Win is severely underrated imo. Outside Anastasia? I mostly listen to showtimes but I’ve been really feeling Great Comet lately. The whole show can count as my fave song right?

–Mod Mitya

#Anonymous #love like weeds - an anastasia au #From The Gardener's Mouth #Mod Anyushka #Mod Mitya

[lovelikeweeds]

Reblog if your inbox is ALWAYS open for random asks, even if you haven’t reblogged any meme

#we love talking with ya! #mod mitya

[lovelikeweeds]

Which POVs the easiest to write? Which one’s the hardest? Which one’s your favorite?

For me, the easiest POV to write is Anya, hands down. Dmitry is the hardest since I don’t tend to gel with him as well. My favorite is definitely Gleb, especially because of all the nuance we’ve been adding to his character!– Mod Anyushka

When it comes to canon characters, Dmitry comes the easiest to me. Something about him just pulls me in and I know how to write what's on his mind. Anya is the hardest as I just dont naturally "see" her pov. I suppose there's a reason we work so well as cowriters~ ;) as for favourite, well it depends on the day but I enjoy writing Gleb and Dmitry both. Dmitry usually when I feel nostalgic or romantic, but Gleb more when I'm having Emotions. -Mod Mitya

#Anonymous #Love Like Weeds - An Anastasia AU #From The Gardener's Mouth #Mod Anyushka #Mod Mitya

[lovelikeweeds]

Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic

#please talk to us #mod mitya

[lovelikeweeds]

shit to ask people who write

do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

on a scale of 1-10 how much to enjoy incorporating romance into the average story?

what are some of examples of storytelling that inspires you outside of books?

what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son

tell us about one of your characters who’s an absolute joy to write 

have you identified any recurring elements or themes across your writing?

what’s a series or franchise you secretly or not so secretly think you’d be, like, a REALLY good writers for if they’d stop being cowards and hire you already?

do you have any kind of consistent writing schedule or just hoping for the best?

if you currently write fanfiction or have ever written fanfiction, please tell us about the plot of the first fic you ever wrote

what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it? 

are you a podcast person? if yes, any recommendations for podcasts talking about writing/being creative in general?

do you want to write sequels/series or nah?

in an ideal world where you’re already super successful and published, would you want to see a tv or movie adaptation of your work? why or why not?

do you write any particular genre? how do you feel about genre categories in general? love them? want to combine them? want to do away with them altogether?

at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot

what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

do you ever have trouble focusing on writing? how do you get around that? tell us. please, tell us. I, the OP of this ask list, desperately need advice on how to focus.

BIG ask: what do you think is the most important component of a good story?

talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you. or talk about several. seriously, writing is cool. you’re making up whole stories out of your brain, revel in that shit.

okay, now that we had that nice one: what’s your WORST writing habit? dig deep, own up to your crimes. 

how do you share your writing, or want to?

hey - what are you working on right now?  

#ask the mods!

[lovelikeweeds]

Another Announcement!

Due to a little more back-to-school chaos than the mods anticipated, we will be taking a slightly longer hiatus through the end of the month of September. Expect us back October 8th with more Love Like Weeds! In the meantime, feel free to send asks or questions. We have a lot planned for future installments and we’d love to hear from you about what you want to have happen!

#anastasia broadway #anastasia the musical #Love Like Weeds - An Anastasia AU #Mod Anyushka #Love Like Weeds - Announcements

[lovelikeweeds]

Announcement!

Next week, we've decided to take a short break so as to figure out where we're going next, and give ourselves some time to recover in the midst of back to school madness.

In lieu of our usual post, we're going to be answering any questions our darling readers have, sleepover style! If we're particularly inspired, perhaps we'll even do some short 3 sentence fics or the like~

So go ahead, and ask away dear readers! We can't wait to see you again~

-mod mitya

#anastasia broadway #anastasia the musical #Love Like Weeds - An Anastasia AU #Mod Mitya #Love Like Weeds - Announcements #Love Like Weeds - Sleepover Event

[lovelikeweeds]

Tsarkoye Selo, Russia, 1907

Anastasia skips toward Auntie Lily, beaming for the first time in months. Auntie Lily was Nana’s closest confidant, after all, even if Nana wouldn’t admit to having a confidant.

“And how is my favorite little princess?” Auntie asks as Anastasia wraps her in a hug.

“Much better,” she answers. Anastasia is practically vibrating. Maybe Auntie Lily has news about Nana! Maybe Nana is coming to visit soon!

“Well that’s wonderful to hear.”

“Is… Is Nana coming soon? It’s been so long since she’s visited, so long since I’ve seen her. Please, Auntie Lily, you must know something right?”

Auntie Lily’s face falls for just a moment, and Anastasia’s heart falls with it. She knows what that face means.

“I’m sure she’ll come to visit soon, dearest. You know she hates being separated from you.”

“It’s just… she didn’t come for Christmas, a-and she always comes for Christmas!” the girl’s voice wavers, her eyes scrunching up and lip quivering.

Auntie Lily smiles and hugs Anastasia tightly. It’s meant to be reassuring, but all it makes her feel sick to her stomach. Nana is staying in Paris, perhaps forever. Who knows when she’ll get to see her again?

“Why don’t you take me to see your Mama and Papa, hmm?”

“Yes Auntie…”

Anastasia takes Aunt Lily’s hand and leads her through the halls of the Alexander Palace, even though Auntie knew the way. She tried to forget her disappointment, letting her eyes wander. She’s captivated by the lights reflecting off her aunt’s dress. The red silk is covered in hundreds of tiny rubies, all set into elaborate embroidery. Anastasia stares at the patterns, tracing them with her eyes. Her brow furrows as she settles on a patch of the shoulder.

“Auntie Lily, your dress is missing rubies!”

“What are you talking about, Nastasya?”

“On your shoulder! It’s like… It’s like someone picked them off your dress!”

Auntie Lily says something quietly. Anastasia is fairly certain it’s not a phrase she should ever repeat. “I know exactly who it was that did that. I’ll be having words with him.”

They stop outside Papa’s office, and Aunt Lily pats Anastasia’s hair. “Thank you, darling.”

“Of course Auntie.” Anastasia nods as Lily knocks on the door and her Papa opens it. Anastasia smiles once again as she leaves, making her way back to the playroom. Perhaps… Perhaps she’ll be able to see Nana in the Summer. Auntie hadn’t said no, and she was here so often… she’d have to write a letter, to give to her. Then Auntie could pass it on, when she went to Paris again! Nana couldn’t ignore a letter. She just couldn’t.

#anastasia broadway #anastasia the musical #anastasia romanov #anya romanov #Love Like Weeds - An Anastasia AU #YOU WERE BORN IN A PALACE BY THE SEA

[lovelikeweeds]

Yekaterinburg, Russia, 1907

Gleb’s notebooks are full of musings. His Father’s words and ideas consume every waking moment. He keeps them hidden, buried beneath his socks in the back of his drawer.

It has become commonplace for Gleb to sit with his Father in the evenings, after dinner. They discuss philosophy and politics. Adult matters. The kinds of things that just a few months ago, Gleb would not have been allowed to think about. Sometimes, Stepan Vaganov even pours Gleb a small glass of vodka.

Gleb takes pride in having his Father’s attention now. He listens eagerly, absorbing the words with a zealousness he hadn’t known he possessed. His Father is, Gleb thinks, pleased by how Gleb is learning and growing.

The chill of Winter is still present in the mid-march air. They walk through the streets of Yekaterinburg, boots crunching on the roads. The meeting this time had been at Vitya’s house.

“Father?”

“Yes Gleb?”

“Uncle Vitya’s wife stayed for the meeting. Why doesn’t Mama stay when it’s at our house?”

His father sighs. “Your Mama just… doesn’t understand.”

“Is it because she’s a woman, Father?”

“Not at all. It has nothing to do with being a woman. Your Mama is simply… content to keep things the way they are. Your Aunt Irina on the other hand, she wants a better world for her family.”

“But Uncle Vitya and Aunt Irina don’t have any children. She isn’t even pregnant.”

“They married recently. It’s a natural thing, to wait to have children.”

Gleb is quiet for a moment. His Mama and Father married young, and Gleb was born shortly after. Perhaps that is not Natural? Perhaps that is not what is done. “Most women are like Mama, aren’t they?” This question earns a laugh from his Father.

“No woman is like your Mama. She’s a force to be reckoned with in her own way.”

A gunshot echoes through the quiet streets. The sound has become familiar to Gleb, but he still flinches out of instinct. He knows what that sound means. Another life, taken by the Tsar’s army.

Stepan’s steps increase, and Gleb follows. He notices his Father glancing behind them every few steps. They are so distracted by the noise from behind that they don’t pay attention to what’s ahead. They are nearly home when a cossack steps out into the road ahead of them.

“Good evening,” Stepan Vaganov mutters, keeping his head down and angling his body between the cossack and Gleb.

“Good evening,” the man replies. The barrel of his rifle shines in the moonlight. “It’s awfully late for such a young boy to be out. What’s your business?”

“My son is becoming a man,” Stepan replies. “It’s hardly a conversation to have in front of women, don’t you think?”

The cossack nods, relaxing. “We’ve just been told to watch for suspicious characters. One can’t be too careful these days.”

Gleb is about to open his mouth and protest that he and his Father are hardly suspicious, but then he’s being dragged away by his Father. They walk quickly, focused solely on returning to their home. Question bubble up in his mind, but the blackened glares his father gives him silence better than fear of the cossak and his gun. Gleb can’t wait to be inside, to be safe in their sanctuary.

He takes his notebooks from their hiding place that night. He keeps them under his pillow as he sleeps. Tomorrow, he will find a new hiding place, somewhere safe and protected. The cossack’s words echo in his head. Suspicious people. His Father isn’t suspicious. His Father’s friends aren’t suspicious. Gleb couldn’t possibly be suspicious. They had done nothing wrong! There were no laws about walking after dark, and if there were, then surely those laws were unjust. Another unfair restraint the Tsar has placed on them. More tyranny for them to bear, because of some misguided fear, some paranoid delusion. Gleb knows his father. Father wouldn’t dare do anything suspicious, wouldn’t dare to hurt anyone.

Gleb sighs, shifting on his bed, trying to find a comfortable position. The world is changing, and not for the better.

#anastasia the musical #anastasia broadway #Gleb Vaganov #Love Like Weeds- an Anastasia AU #A Boy Becomes A Man At His Father's Knee

[lovelikeweeds]

St. Petersburg, Russia, 1907

Dmitry is surprised at how easy it is to sneak into the kitchens of the palace. The cooks and other servants are too distracted by making sure the food was ready to go out to the nobility. Beyond the doors, the sounds of the grand party echoes, laughter and music, all foreign to him. No one notices a scamp like him now. It’s just as easy to loot the drawers as it was to sneak inside, pieces of silverware now his to claim

Knives, forks, and spoons all end up in the little bag tucked under his shirt. He giggles to himself as he runs his hands over it, marvelling at the pieces. Silver, all used by the Empress herself! And if it wasn’t true, who would know better? Footsteps echo in the room beyond. It was high time he left with his prizes. As quickly as he had entered, he slips out of the kitchen, finding himself in a darkened hallway. Too many people now to leave the way he’d come. He can see light shining through a doorway, the sounds of a party louder there. The hallway it had to be then. Surely, there’d be an exit somewhere.

Dmitry has always been a quick learner, and the streets are a far more efficient teacher than even his Papa had been. He’s learned now, how to hide his things so no one will steal them. He’s learned how to beg, how to wheedle scraps of food from the Babushkas and coins from wide-eyed young ladies. He’s learned how to pick pockets, and how to fence his stolen goods. He is quick, he is small, and he is clever. What more does he need?

The dimly lit hallway seems to wind forever. This is nothing like his streets, with the open sky above and every route engraved on his memory. It isn’t right. His eyes dart all around, looking for any doorways, seeking the escape route that has to be there someplace.  Nothing leaps out. There are no doors or other halls, and the windows start seeming like better options by the minute. And then he hears the voices.

“Vlad… You can’t be so bold! I have a husband you know.”

“My darling Lily, your husband doesn’t scare me. Run away with me! We’d be happy together, you know we would.”

Dmitry freezes. The voices are just around the corner. He ducks quickly behind a pillar, holding his breath, and trying to ignore the awful wet sounds that start up.

“I’ll be just a moment, Vovo. Go ahead without me~”

There are footsteps right in front of Dmitry. He closes his eyes, praying to anyone who could hear that he won’t be seen.

The man sighs, and Dmitry lets his guard down for just a moment. He shifts on his feet, and the cutlery in his bag rattles. The man looks around, his eyes settling on Dmitry hidden behind the pillar.

“Come out here, boy.” Dmitry hesitates for a moment before stepping out. Perhaps if he just follows orders the man will be kind. He can invent a story, find a way…

The man looks him up and down once, and Dmitry is about to bolt when he laughs. “I’m not going to hurt you boy. What are you doing here?”

“I… was just on my way b-back to the kitchens.”

“Ah yes. The kitchens are… the opposite direction, aren’t they?”

Dmitry sucks in a breath. Caught. The man laughs again. “M-maybe they are. ‘M sorry, sir ’m awful new and--”

“That’s quite alright boy. You can call me Vlad.”

He swallows as he looks up at the man, who seems to be asking questions without speaking.

“M’ D-dmitry.”

The man’s whole body seemed to vibrate with his chortling. He gives Dmitry another once over, and the boy holds himself tense, trying harder than ever to look the part of a lost kitchen boy.

“With a bit of practice well… You’d pass as my own boy!”

Dmitry blinks, confused. This hasn’t been what he’s expected at all. The man is obviously some kind of noble, wearing a sumptuous uniform trimmed with braid, decorated with medals. He should be demanding guards, having Dmitry turn out his bag and threatening all kinds of awful punishments. But he’s… amused? He keeps his mouth shut, afraid to ruin it.

“A clever boy like you is going to go far in this world… But only if you’re careful.”

The man stands suddenly, looking down the hall and muttering under his breath.

“You don’t have much time my boy. Take this. If anyone else finds you, say you’re running an errand for Countess Malevsky-Malevitch, alright?”

Dmitry nods, before looking at what the man had passed him. He gasps as it sparkles, red as blood.

“S-sir I… is this...? You can’t!”

The man merely winks, holding a finger up to his lips. “Our little secret. The exit is that way. Step quick now!”

More footsteps echo from around the corner, and Dmitry only just has time to scamper behind the pillar again. He watches a lovely woman step around the corner, her heels clacking on the floor. An air of mischief surrounds her, cat-like grin and sparkling eyes drawing him in, and he can understand just why this Vlad was sneaking around back halls now.

“Oh Vovo, you didn’t have to wait for me. I told you I was coming.~”

As she rounds the corner, Dmitry has to stifle a gasp, a small section of the brilliant dress sparkling less than the rest, little gaps that most wouldn’t notice, little gaps where brilliant red stones had once been set. His heart pounds as the man catches his eye, turning a shooing gesture into a hug as he embraces his lady love.

“Ahh, and be seperated from my little rose any longer? I think not!”

“Oh you flatterer! There’s no need to fret, we’re here now.” Her tone was happy, but then she sighed, and her shoulders fell. “Still… It’s a shame the Dowager won’t be attending. She’s staying in Paris indefinitely, or so the reports say. And with the Imperial family all cooped up in the Alexander Palace… St. Petersburg just isn’t what it used to be.”

“I know, Lily. The parties aren’t what they used to be. But… we can still enjoy what there is, and what we’re ever so lucky to have.” he pulled the countess in for a kiss, but she stopped him, pushing back gently.

“Those girls deserve to be a part of our society. And little Alexei! We’ve hardly seen the boy, and he’s supposed to be our Tsar someday! I understand that her Imperial Majesty doesn’t want to overwhelm them but… it’s their birthright!”

“Of course, Lily. Come, they’ll be missing us soon…”

The couple walks away, disappearing into the maze that was this strange other world. Dmitry waits several minutes more before dashing the way Vlad had indicated. The ruby he’s been given burns in his palm. It is far too precious to just toss into a bag. He’ll have to be careful with it. And he’ll have to be more careful the next time he paid a palace a visit, even if it seems he isn’t the only con about.

Getting caught again isn’t an option.

#anastasia broadway #anastasia the musical #dmitry sudayev #Love Like Weeds - An Anastasia AU #a russian rat is clever

[lovelikeweeds]

Love Like Weeds Behind the Scenes

Mod Mitya met Derek Klena this week and then came down with a nasty bug, so this week I’m going to talk a bit about our writing process.

As we’ve mentioned in the past, Love Like Weeds is a collaborative fanfic project between the two of us. But how do we cowrite a project as expansive and in-depth as Love Like Weeds?

Mod Mitya comes up with the ideas for the weeks, and then I do all the hard work!

Just kidding~ We actually discuss each week what we want to accomplish for the ficlet. There are lots of stories and ideas we want to cover, and so we are almost constantly talking about it. Once we have the idea fleshed out, one of us writes what we call a “skeleton.” This is our rough draft. Once that’s done, the other one will go in and make edits or leave comments on parts we aren’t quite content with. Then it’s just a matter of back and forthing until we’re both happy with the finished product.

To provide an example, we’ll use last week’s ficlet. The original final paragraph read:

“The more Gleb listens, the more he realizes. He cannot believe in a God who would condemn people to imprisonment just for having a different view. He understands now, why his Father doesn’t go to church anymore. Gleb is a man now.”

This ending is lackluster and doesn’t give us any insight into Gleb’s character. It might be a good beginning, but it doesn’t really carry the emotion we wanted. So we reread the piece and delved a bit deeper into the mind of Young Gleb and drew on the themes we’ve already started to establish. After batting verbs and descriptors around a bit, we ended up with this:

“The more Gleb listens, the more he understands. This is his Father's Mass, a communion of ideas, not of something distant or arcane. Why would Father attend the church of God when the church of Men feels so much more real and true? Why put faith in the God who he's been told is loving, and yet bows to the Tsar’s endless parade of misery? The men talk, and he drinks up every word of their sermon. A man of Ideas has no need for any other Church. He wants to be a man, just like his Father, strong, and full of conviction. Not a fussing fretting man, too much like an old woman. Father had given him a choice, and he makes it without even thinking.”

A far more poetic ending, more resonant, and carrying what we consider to be the signature tone of Love Like Weeds.

As you can see, once we get into the editing process, our ficlets improve dramatically. It also depends entirely on who writes the skeletons and who gets to edit first.

Thanks for reading, and we hope to be back to our regularly scheduled updates next week! Any questions? Comments? Need some beets? Drop us a line in our ask box or find us on Ao3!

#anastasia the musical #anastasia broadway #Love Like Weeds - An Anastasia AU #love like weeds - behind the scenes #Mod Anyushka #Writing Process

[lovelikeweeds]

Yekaterinburg, Russia, 1907

The worst part of Christmas, Gleb thinks, is sitting through Mass. Father usually gets him out of going to church with Mama, but she doesn’t budge when it comes to Christmas and Easter.

His suit is too big, ill-fitting. Mama said he’d grow into it, but it’s uncomfortable. Gleb sits still on the hard wooden pew. Sofia has an excuse to squirm and be noisy. She’s a baby still, not yet two years old. But Gleb is older, a grown boy. He has to sit still and recite his prayers with everyone else in the church.

Still, he feels his Mama’s glare boring into his skull. His legs ache from the sitting and standing and kneeling. Father hasn’t joined them. Stephan Vaganov is not a religious man, and as the man of the household, he can choose not to join them.

Gleb wishes he had that same ability. He isn’t even sure he believes in God, especially not the way his Mama does. He doesn’t want to sit in the church with the soulless eyes of the saints staring at him. It’s uncomfortable, and he wants to shift in his seat.

“Sit still, Glebka,” his mother hisses, and Gleb freezes up. He tries to listen to the priest, but the air is heavy with the perfume of incense and candle smoke and Gleb is tired from staying up the night before. The words are just a buzz, going in one ear and out the other.

Gleb follows the ritual, trying to find comfort in the familiar, but as soon as it ends, he practically sprints from the church, desperate to get a lungful of fresh air. There’s snow on the ground and the children are already beginning to run home for scarves and sleds, eager to spend the day outside while mothers continue to work on Christmas feasts.

Gleb waits by the heavy wooden door, breathing easier now that he was outside. His Mama comes quickly, baby Sofia held close in her arms. They walk home mostly in silence. Gleb has little interest in snowball fights and snow angels. He got a new notebook and pencils for Christmas, and he would much rather spend the day curled up by the fire, writing down the stories that filled his head.

He is busy with his writing when his Father’s friends come in. He hasn’t seen them in months, but his Father has said it’s dangerous to meet frequently. The house smells like Mama’s cooking. Sofia is laying in her cot, babbling. Gleb looks up from his notebook for just a moment, receiving a smile from one of the men. Another walks past, reaching down to ruffle his hair. His Father enters last, stern and stoic.

They take seats around the table, and Gleb can’t help but perk his ears toward the conversation. For once, he isn’t being sent out of the room. He’s curious. Father leaves the table for a moment, returning with a bottle of vodka.

“Gleb,” his Father calls, and Gleb looks up. He’s being sent away after all. He moves to pack up his notebook and pencils. “Come here.”

Gleb blinks, but he does not disobey. He walks slowly to the table. “Yes, Father?”

“Sit down, Gleb.”

One of the men -- Antosha, his Father calls him -- pulls a chair out for Gleb, and Gleb sinks down, his heart racing. Another man, Vitya, takes the vodka from his Father and pours a glass for Gleb.

“You’re a man now, Gleb,” his Father says. “If you want to stay for our discussion, you’re welcome to.”

Gleb nods, smiling ear-to-ear. It’s an even better Christmas present than his notebook. He sits quietly while he listens to the men talk. He is still too young to really understand what everyone is saying, but he listens to them complain about the Tsar’s policies, about the constant stream of prisoners being moved through their quiet town. They gripe and groan while Gleb slowly sips the vodka. It burns his throat, and makes him cough but he drinks all of it, the taste of manhood.

The more Gleb listens, the more he understands. This is his Father's Mass, a communion of ideas, not of something distant or arcane. Why would Father attend the church of God when the church of Men feels so much more real and true? Why put faith in the God who he's been told is loving, and yet bows to the Tsar’s endless parade of misery? The men talk, and he drinks up every word of their sermon. A man of Ideas has no need for any other Church. He wants to be a man, just like his Father, strong, and full of conviction. Not a fussing fretting man, too much like an old woman. Father had given him a choice, and he makes it without even thinking.

Christmas is the last time Gleb sets foot in the Church.

#anastasia the musical #anastasia broadway #Gleb Vaganov #Love Like Weeds - An Anastasia AU #A Boy Becomes A Man At His Father's Knee

[lovelikeweeds]

Tsarkoye Selo, Russia, 1907

Anastasia can’t believe it. Nana always comes to Christmas. But this year, the festivities come and go with nothing more than a letter, a necklace and a porcelain doll from Paris. She lays in bed, heartbroken. The doll looks exactly like her, and she should be elated that Nana would think to get her something so special, but it’s just a doll. On her bedside table, the music box from Nana plays the familiar melody of Anastasia’s lullaby.

“What’s the matter, Nastasya?” The door creaks open and Anastasia looks over to see Maria standing in the doorway.

“Nana didn’t come. Nana always comes for Christmas and she didn’t come this year and why didn’t she come?”

Maria sits on the edge of Anastasia’s bed. “Papa said it’s hard to travel from Paris to St. Petersburg, and besides, Nana sent you a letter and such a pretty doll, which is more than any of us got. All we got were necklaces. You’re her favorite, you know.”

Anastasia glances at the music box, the melody having stopped. She rolls over, sighing dramatically. “It’s not the same! Nana is supposed to be here! It’s not Christmas otherwise.”

“Nastasya, we’ll go see Nana this summer, after your birthday. Papa said so.”

“We were supposed to go visit her last summer, and then Papa was too busy. We’ll just end up stuck here and what if I never see Nana again?”

“That’s ridiculous. Of course we’ll see her again.” Maria ruffles Anastasia’s copper curls. “Now come on. Mama’s looking for you.”

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here.”

“Nastya, it’s a party. Do you want to go? Papa said he won’t dance until he dances with you.”

“Then he can sit and watch,” Anastasia replies. She doesn’t want to go to a party. She doesn’t want to dance. She wants to see Nana, but Nana is in Paris.

“Nastya… C’mon. It’ll be so much fun to dance with you. And you’re already wearing your dress. Just a little while? I’m sure Mama will make us go to bed before too long anyways.”

Anastasia sighs again, but slowly pushes herself off of her bed. “Fine. I’ll go to the stupid party.”

Maria claps her hands together before reaching for Anastasia’s. “Maybe if we’re really lucky, we can make Auntie Lily get us a glass of champagne!”

Maria’s attitude is infectious, and Anastasia can’t help the grin that spreads across her cheeks as they race down the stairs of the Alexander Palace toward the Christmas party Mama’s planned. The girls’ laughter echoes through the hallways.

Christmas is, after all, a time for family and joy. Anastasia is quick to lose herself in the holiday spirit, her sadness melting like the spring snows.

#anastasia broadway #anastasia the musical #anastasia romanov #anya romanov #Love Like Weeds- an Anastasia AU #you were born in a palace by the sea