[March 1946]
Stretching the legs, then the arms.
Don't forget to also twist the neck a bit, so it won't stiff.
Bend the back, touch the toe from behind...
And done.
1. Who can go out in the middle of work without need permission slip or ID card?
A: Ivan, Dmitry and/or Fyodor.
2. Who must need permission slip for going out in the middle of work but no need ID card?
A: Stepan, Vadim and/or Alexei
3. Who must need permission slip for going out in the middle of work, and had to leave their ID card at receptionist?
A: Vasily, Oleg, Semyon, Anatoli, Maxim, Andrei.
4. In case #1 go with #2 or #3, it means #1 must also need permission slip (but no ID card).
5. Please pay attention if suddenly #1 and #2 went alone but their satchel looked larger. It could be #3's belongings are there and they are try exiting through back door. Call the guards to check there.
The atmosphere that night behind the Belarus' military base... now become same as the atmosphere they had enjoyed at Moscow. They laughed at Vasily's humor... enjoyed all the food Vadim had secretly brought from the cafeteria... discussion with Alexei, who always had a good grasp of the Soviet Union's developments from the people's perspective... and listened to Dmitry's comments, which were always on point but true. They chatted for who knows how many hours, until finally, after the sausages were finished, they began drinking Vasily's homemade vodka together.
The cafeteria in the hall next to the rehearsal room was bustling with activity. Some artists were queuing for food, others were chatting with each other with their own lunchbox. Some artists also simply relaxing by the window and smoking, watching the Moscow River stretch out in the distance. Dmitry was quite happy to see no smoke spoiling the air he was about to breathe, as mostly the smokers aware enough to smoke far away. Near the buffet, Alexandrov and several men who appeared to be in positions of authority were also eating with the other members.
[1934]
The clock had now struck eight on the wall clock in the main room. It was filled with furnishings such as a bed, sofa, large table, and other items. It was as if the bedroom, study, and living room had been rolled into one. Not to mention several shirts were scattered on the floor of the main room, seemingly recently ransacked. Not far from the shirts, the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard, along with a voice saying, "Why, why?"
[31 May 1945]
Stepan's dyspepsia experience was actually based on my own experience when my acid reflux went crazy inbetween July 2017 - August 2018. I thought I had GERD as well too, when normal Antacid and Ranitidine not helps. It does help when I use Omeprazole or Sucralfate, but still not enough.
Well, I am not working as double bassist... but that detail of rationing my medicine (only taking twice a day of medicine instead three times), sleep with three pillows, and stomach angry with me nonstop are based on that. I remembered to be so suffered until I cannot eat spicy/sour and drinking coffee that I liked.
The acid reflux magically vanished, a month after I ended friendship with a fellow fan. We indeed had internal conflict (debating to stay mourning the 2016 victim forever or keep moving forward)... but I never thought it does affect my health. Yeah, I only found out my dyspepsia is somatic type.
07.00
The chirping birds waking up Stepan from his sleep. He slowly tidied his bed, which has three pillows stacked. Yes, Stepan mostly slept with sitting position than totally lying down all of this time. However, instead he made breakfast or anything... he just put the platter on the gramophone next to the bed, and played the song he liked. Then he only filled his stomach with glass of water, then relaxing on his bed again while staring at the ceiling or reading the yesterday's newspaper... completely lost in thoughts once again.
[May 1945]
The news about war ended finally heard through Stepan's ears, as one ensemble member announced while reading Fyodor's gripped newspaper. That blond Yakutian's body slumped to the wall, together with Group 4 who still rehearsing under the shelter. He hugged Ivan and Fyodor too when everyone start to feel relieved and can get up from the floor again.
"Ah... What a relief..." said Dmitry, who had just come from the train's toilet. Vadim, who was waiting for him in front of the toilet, was now straightening his gymnastyorka.
"Come on, Dima, let's go back!" Vadim urged.
They were now looking for the wagon compartment where they had been sitting. When Dmitry opened the door, there were Alexei and Vasily, dressed in their gymnastyorka too. They were now busy chatting, then turned to Dmitry and Vadim with cheerful looks. The compartment window was tightly covered with curtains, and the room was lit only by an oil lamp.
Once in 2013, I was experimenting if Vitaly can be redeemed, and creating better love triangle story (back then, I was still trying to make conflict between Dmitry, Darya and Alexei/Vitaly as mere love triangle). In that story, Darya knew the difference between Alexei and Vitaly, and she loves them both. But she also loves Dmitry's calmness and passiveness. Later, one day when Darya visiting Moscow, Dmitry being busy with overtime at the ensemble. And instead Alexei/Vitaly who willingly to clock out to meet freezing Darya. At that time, too, Darya's father still alive (not Viktor Sarpin, but her real father) and wants her to marry the father's friend. At the end, it seems Darya still choose Dmitry, and Alexei/Vitaly was only as second male lead who letting Darya go... but not before they kill the father's friend that Darya mentioned.
Yeah I know it's full of inconsistency. Even my friend (avid reader of FFnet and AO3) who try to proofreading my writing giving me 😑 face and heavily criticise the grammar, the plot, the personality etc. It become hard lesson for me that Darya was really meant for Dmitry. Just need to learn how to make better conflict than just Darya being damsel in distress.
Once in 2015, I asked some of my friends at uni to look at my OC design and choose who will they want to hang out with. Most of them picking Alexei, Vasily, Ivan, Semyon, Stepan, and Anatoli because they seems friendly. They said Dmitry and Fyodor was looked too cold and not interesting. Vadim, Oleg and Andrei was too intimidating.
However, I am also interested that while the girls are wary when seeing Maxim's design... the boys are looking at Maxim as normal person.
"Ugh, you're still a crybaby even though you're all grown up. Haha..."
"I miss you all, Nadya. I miss you so much!"
"I know that. That's why I'm here with you."
"I don't know what else to say except 'miss you.' How many years have I been without you?"
"Don't count! It's all over, Vasya. And look at this! I even still have the necklace you made... it reminds me of home."
"Ah..."
"A flower-shaped necklace as a hope that I can brighten my siblings' lives forever. A ribbon-shaped necklace as a hope that Nastya can maintain our sibling bond forever."
"..."
"Do you still remember what you said as a kid?"
"Yes..."
"Then tell me."
"Okay. Lastly, a triangle-shaped necklace as a hope that I can protect my siblings from harm forever."
"Come on, Vasya. While waiting for mom and Nastya to join us, we'll play together! Dad also have been waiting for you, too!"
...
.....
......
A vast expanse of grassland lay before me. The journey would be long, but I wasn't alone anymore. My eldest sister, Nadezhda, was with me. And I was sure the realm I was about to enter would no longer frighten me.
1. I'll do everything to redeem my sin
Even it costs another sin to replace
2. Because I lost everything
My sister, my love, my friend, and... my other half
I know if only that bastard doesn't interrupt me
Ah... it's too late for me anyway
3. I have my deep regret to my friend
My greed almost took his happiness
For the first time I can't kill him on the spot
Like everyone else
Because he is my only best friend
4. I really still held my grudge to that bastard
If I'm being resurrected, I'll find him
And kill him as soon as possible before back to afterlife
1234 - 1243 - 1324 - 1342 - 1423 - 1432
2134 - 2143 - 2341 - 2314 - 2431 - 2413
3142 - 3124 - 3241 - 3214 - 3412 - 3421
4123 - 4132 - 4231 - 4213 - 4321 - 4312
Back when first time writing in 2013, I imagine what languages that my OCs can speak in real life. Of course in the story, it will be fully written in English. I am not a polyglot, hehe.
Dmitry Petronov - Russian
Alexei Mikhailov / Vitaly Bodenko - Russian, Ukrainian
Vadim Oktyuchev - Russian, German
Vasily Nandev - Russian
Fyodor Rokossovsky - Russian, English
Oleg Sepnenko - Russian, Ukrainian
Anatoli Cheyko - Russian, Belarussian
Semyon Isayev - Russian, German, Polish, French
Andrei Fatanov - Russian
Stepan Tabanin - Russian, Sakha-Tyla
Ivan Koshchin - Russian
Maxim Laruskiy - Russian
=====
Additional Notes:
1. Fyodor speaks English because he reads a lot of English book too. Usually from the thrift store or black market store, where he can get old worn out book that nobody looks for. His coping mechanism when smoking is not allowed... is by buying all kind of newspapers available and read nonstop. To make himself busy and invisible from his family (unless he has to shield his brothers).
2. Semyon speaks 4 languages because... he's been living for hundred years and travel a lot as a nobleman with magic power. If someone had long lifespan, wealth and magic but cannot even speak more than native language, it's... pathetic. Also Semyon mostly use that language to blend better with locals and get lovers in the past (before settled in 1919 with Veronika and become widower in 1928)
3. The letters between Stepan and his family members are always written in Sakha-Tyla, and it was the only thing that makes him remember his roots.
4. Vadim speaks German because his family used to speak German as second language. Despite he was neglected and abused by his father, he still demanded to learn German just like the other siblings.
5. Anatoli also speaks Belarussian because his fiancée was a Belarussian.
[April 1941]
The lake is quite empty in this evening, even though the fishes are making ripples on the surface. No fishermen around, to catch those willing fishes. And apparently, this condition made Vitaly sighed in relief a bit.
He actually prefer to just walking around Moscow or watching some entertainment in the theatre. But when he opened the diary last morning, he realised Alexei has made promise to Dmitry to fishing together at one lake at north area. Even Alexei was the one who recommend this lake, based on what he heard between gossips between fish enthusiast in Leningrad. Vitaly facepalmed once again in secret, while slowly staring at Dmitry who preparing the mashed quail egg as the bait.
(Taken from my 2013 Archive and translated with translation machine. May or may not be accurate from real history, and I'm too lazy to rewrite)
Moscow, 1928
The middle-aged man's steps quickened as he entered Red Square, his black shoes making a sound like a horse's gallop, and he repeatedly had to straighten his wind-blown military uniform. He knew he should have taken a tram or an autobus to Red Square at the previous terminal, but he chose to walk quickly to avoid traffic jams or stalled vehicles. He ignored the bustling surroundings, bustling with vendors, the Militia and Red Army patrols, and the small children who occasionally ran past him. To him, the reason he was walking quickly to Red Square was of utmost importance, and taking the fastest autobus wouldn't necessarily take him to the front of the grand palace not far from Red Square as fast as the wind.
When all the members were asleep in their respective barracks, a door suddenly opened from the corner room. Semyon stepped out of the door and closed it gently, then made his way to the special officer's bathroom to empty his bladder. Upon reaching the urinal, he smiled with relief, having been able to sneak without any disturbance.
"Officer's bathroom is always better than a soldier's toilet," Semyon concluded to himself. When he turned around, he was somewhat surprised to see the figure of a young man not far behind him. The young man was obscured by the black shadow of the wall, only a sliver of light illuminating his right eye. But Semyon squinted once more, and finally, he smiled broadly at the young man.
"Oh my, it's you. What a surprise..." Semyon laughed. The young man remained standing upright without making a sound. But a glimpse of his angry brown eyes and a knife flashed at Semyon, ready to fly its point to Semyon's throat.
"You have gone too far, young man. To be a judge with blind eyes, ending someone's beloved although flawed. From now on... what you wanted won't be on your side forever. The only way to fix it... let your original self live on his own, and you will learn healthy life too," advised Semyon, now had his blue eyes now glowing into purple. That young man with brown eyes startled as his gymnastyorka start to blown like a strong wind against him.
"I will spare you as long you won't meddle anymore. Or I will tell you that you have something that will interest the secret police," growled that man.
"We will see. It's me who meddle first, or you start to be offensive," said Semyon with firm.
The strong wind finally stopped. The young man winked as a sign that he believed Semyon, then left that chubby redhead alone at the bathroom.
"Ouch... Where am I...?" Vasily wondered as he woke up in a cool barrack, lying on his back. He looked at the completely dark sky from the window, then at Oleg, who still asleep in the barrack. "Oh yeah... I fainted from the heat. Rehearsals must be almost over at the hall, so I don't need to go after everyone..." Then Vasily got out of bed and quietly walked around the bunkbed so as not to wake Oleg. Accidentally, his foot kicked Alexei's backpack, and a book fell out of it. Vasily picked it up and read what was written on the front:
Alexei. Yu. Mikhailov.
1938
"Oh, Lyosha's diary... I wonder what's in it. Maybe I use it as a joke, hehehehe..." Vasily muttered, with a mischievous smile on his face. He flipped through the pages, which mostly contained rehearsals of the Alexandrov Ensemble, Alexei's stories from his apartment, concerts around the Soviet Union, and so on. Vasily laughed occasionally as he read how Alexei described Vasily as a chatterbox, never filtering his words so that he sounded like a know-it-all, and a drunkard. “Watch out, you fucker. I’ll make you suffer even more with my chatter,” Vasily said between laughs. But the more he opened the page... the more he was suspicious because this writing are too different.
A large, yellow domra was held in the right hand of a tall young man. He sat on a chair, his right leg crossed to support the domra, which was larger than his own stomach. The domra's handle was moved to his left hand, and his fingers adjusted the four strung strings, determining the key of the song he was about to play. While his right hand wrapped around the domra, he began plucking one or two strings. Note after note emerged from the vibrations of the strings, gradually increasing in speed, until the three strings produced different notes in the same strum. As he strummed, the young man hummed "Polyushko Pole" to match the song to the key of his domra. His face was filled with satisfaction as he successfully played the piece.
[1931]
When he was arrived Moscow for the first time, his first instinct was to seek information whether there is vacant communal. During the search for good communal, Vadim was sleeping on the street for around two weeks. He prefer to be homeless, despite he has enough money to stay in hotel for six months (thanks to Vadim and Mark stole all of savings that their father had secretly). The reason of him had to be homeless for two weeks, he always disappointed the plumbing in the communal was so bad until no water coming out. Thankfully in fifth day, he managed to get a communal that has better plumbing. Even if no heater, at least a running water still grateful to have...
[August 1939]
It's nine in the morning. Dmitry left his communal quite early, and he walked for ten minutes to another building. He still wondered why few days ago, Vasily wanted him to visit the apartment by next Sunday, or today in exact.
Vasily's communal door swung open after Dmitry knocked, and a worried-looking Vasily appeared. The short young man invited Dmitry in.
"Where's Vadik?"
"He's moonlighting at the radio station again till next week..." Vasily said, still adjusting the green tie on his maroon shirt. Dmitry looked Vasily up and down, realizing that the short young man looked like he was about to attend a wedding reception. Before he could ask, Vasily spoke again, "Let's get you a drink. You must be tired from the trip," and he hurried to the kitchen to bring out a teapot and cups.
[Summer 1944]
Keeping his gaze fixed on the front was the only way to avoid arousing suspicion. But his heart wasn't lying; Vadim's eyes were still darting left and right. His hands were constantly fumbling with his backpack, making sure the items he was carrying weren't out of his bag. His urge to stop and double-check his belongings grew stronger, but he was also worried that someone targeting his belongings might be within Vadim's division.
[????, 1942]
His footsteps were now as fast as his fearful heartbeat. Something was beginning to chase him, and it certainly wouldn't care even if the young man's eyes were red from two full days of lack of sleep. The young man's vision began to blur, until he came across a post where many Red Army soldiers had gathered to rest right in front of him. He stopped running, then took a deep breath before stepping into the post as if he were part of the group.
"Why do you stayed alive, yet he didn't?"
The question struck Anatoli when he still hugging his red haired fiancée at train station. But the words do not come from her. It was from a blond woman who stood before them two.
"I... don't know..." answered Anatoli as he gripped his fiancée's back.
Oleg's fiancée narrowed her eyes, still continued to berate, "You could have saved him! Bring him quickly to the medic! I bet you are just coward who just standing and watch him died!"
[Late August 1945]
It's been three months ever since Vadim went back to Moscow. He still worked in Alexandrov Ensemble, as a domra player at the right wing. His duty still went usual - following rehearsal, reading music score, tune the music, and perform well in the concert. And right now, he is practicing his domra plucking, matched with Stepan's double bass playing at the background.
"Let's sit together."
The sentence surprised Ivan a bit, when he just entered the shelter where his family resides. His wife didn't stared at him in anger or suspicious. Was it because he came home with dirt on his face? But before he guessed further, he choose to pick up the stool near the fireplace and sit next to her.
The battle in Berlin was fierce and bloody enough during the spring. Though at the end, Dmitry survived with some scratches and bruises. After knowing the enemy has surrendered and no more gunfire heard, Dmitry can sling his gun to his shoulder forever.
[Late 1944]
A giant fire blazed in the dry, brown ground. Medium-sized craters surrounded the fire, with hot pieces of metal in the center, or some charred corpses in some of the craters. It was unclear whether they were Soviet or Wermacht soldiers... but the shouts could be heard from everywhere. The same shouting, they ordered their subordinates to advance and shoot every enemy they saw. Meanwhile, two dirty-faced men were hiding above the forest trees nearby. They both watched as the Wermacht soldiers hid, waiting for their enemies to approach, and then shot them one by one.
[Forest near border of Germany, July 1944]
The man named Dmitry Petronov, now swallowed his blood-tinged saliva again. His green eyes struggled to focus on what had struck his mouth in the sudden. His hands gripping his belt to brace himself against the pain. The only clear thing to see was a strange, widened sly grin. That grin let out a laugh, signaling his victory over his opponent.
"Hello, Dima. So you're still alive. I thought you will easily died over a random bullet," the man with hazel eyes mocked after a moment of silence.
"Lyosha? What the hell?! How you could be this cruel?" Dmitry cursed.
