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#nikolai lantsov
pressure-middle-dark · 14 hours
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draw-cause · 3 days
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aleksanderscult · 2 days
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Antis: "The Darkling was cruel! He killed, manipulated, lied and forced himself to Alina!"
*Meanwhile the antis when Nikolai cut the fingers of a man, decided to usurp the throne, lied to Alina, hid information from her and kissed her without consent:* "Now isn't he a cutie?🥰😭"
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corpsebasil · 2 days
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hiiii ? miss me?
Modern Nikolai parte tres
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For some reason you aren’t very surprised when His Royal Highness, Prince Oliver Lantsov, arrives on your door randomly one morning, stopping you on the way out of your apartment with a broad grin and wide splayed arms.
“My Everlasting Delight!” He greets you, formulating a dramatic expression as he peers at you over the frames of his sunglasses. “I missed you, darling.”
“Thought you were in Milan.” You say, staring him down with an empty grocery bag in hand. He shifts on his feet for a moment.
“I uh, was. But then Vivianne…” Olly makes a vague gesture and grimaces. “You know how models are.”
“I don’t, actually.”
“Well anyways,” the prince smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders, jovially tugging you down the walkway and towards the street. Cars drive by, busy in the heart of a bustling city. “I just wanted to let you know that my birthday party is coming up. We’re going to Switzerland obviously, and you must come.”
Your stomach twists and you cringe at your friend, the leather of his jacket cool against your arms as you walk. You shrug away from him, the scent of expensive cologne chasing your senses and blending with the crispy breeze of the outdoors.
“I’m not going this year.” You say, giving him a ‘duh’ look.
“Why?” His head actually cocks to the side.
“You know why.”
“‘You-Know-Who’?”
“He isn’t Voldemort.” You sigh, rolling your eyes even as your heart begins to weigh heavily against your ribcage, the too full organ seeming to be longing for a way out. “Yeah. Nik.” You sigh again, louder. “It’d be weird and he’d be there and I’d just—I don’t know, have to hang out on the sidelines at a lot of points and I just don’t think—”
“You’re my friend too, you know. If I want you there than he can be mature for once and behave himself, yeah? He’d do that.”
“This isn’t about him behaving, it’s—” you pause, running a hand through your hair in frustration. What do you mean? Sure, some part of you—more than you wanted to admit—longed to see him. To see the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, see the hidden grin he’d give you when he thought someone in a room was being ridiculous, the way he’d find an excuse to touch you no matter who was around, the way—
“Y/N?”
You look at Olly. The prince’s eyebrows are furrowed, an unspoken question on his lips. You force a faint smile and loop an arm through his, resting your head on the boy’s shoulder for a beat.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” You lie, squeezing his arm for emphasis. He nods but a gleam of suspicion lights up those familiar brown eyes. “Seriously. Now what are you doing here?”
Olly watches for another beat before shrugging, relenting to your change of subject.
“Shopping.” He muses, then smiles deviously. “Join me. I have my mother’s card.”
The days leading up to the annual ski-trip were filling you with anxiety.
On one hand, somehow Olly had forced you—against all odds—to attend the weekend outing. An overnight flight to Switzerland later and you’re standing in a large hotel room, the view of snow-clad mountains and trees meeting your stare.
When a knock hits your door you turn, opening it hesitantly. The entire hotel smells like expensive vanilla and hints of smoke from the fireplaces, undercut with natural cleaners from the ridiculously efficient housekeepers. The figure standing outside the door gives you a hesitant smile, his freshly cut blond hair short and shiny in the light.
“Hey, Y/N.” He greets, voice laced with nerves, and your heart stops.
Nikolai.
Hello
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savethegrishaverse · 18 hours
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sparklewrites1 · 3 days
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Shadow and Bone chart memes
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stromuprisahat · 3 days
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The Fold Separatist plot from the show was one of the best ideas I've seen,concerning the Gregverse in general. First,it's true to real life - many borders exist due to barriers like mountains and rivers,so the Fold being one of said barriers is more than logical. Plus,there's the trade issue - maybe West Ravka doesn't want to share resources with the East. To top it all,I feel like Nikolai as a well-intentioned patriot and counterpart to Aleksander if he was the leader of the separatist movement. As he's in the books,the guy seems more like a spoiled prince wanting the throne meets a political vulture. It would've been pretty cool if Nikolai(the leader of West Ravka and/or high-ranking spy) intended to take down/over the East part and used it's political instability to do so. Still a very morally grey character,but one I can get behind as someone who's truly heroic,in a way.
Yes please!
Nikolai certainly belongs among the characters with considerable wasted potential. Re-reading the books made me realize how much more do his actions read either as the true manipulative villain, going after the Throne for his own gain, or a naïve hypocrite, willfully oblivious towards whatever doesn't suit him and his intentions (First Army attacking Grisha, his family's misdeeds...).
When it comes to West Ravka, it's unbelievable it remained under East Ravkan yoke for three hundred years! Empires disintegrated after shorter periods of separation. From the little we know, West developed into less feudal, more capitalistic country and aside from name and long-ago history, I see no reason why it shouldn't simply declare independence. It's not like the East has means to make them submit again...
It's been a while since I had history at school, but closing the economical gap between East and West Germany took a while and it made some people quite unhappy. Ravka had been separated for ten times longer. Why should the West deny themselves? Why should some backwater hellhole live at their expense?
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Jesper: How do Kaz and Nikolai usually get out of these messes? Zoya: They don't. They just make a bigger mess that cancels the first one out.
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thearchvillain · 2 days
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gardenias. | nikolai
part II (part I)
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nikolai lantsov x reader
summary: the setting is a grand event hosted at os alta with the intention of finding a future queen for crown prince vasily. the reader is a merchant's daughter trying to keep a low profile after her parents had dragged her there (against her will) with the hopes that she might catch the prince's attention. she, on the other hand, has different plans. plans that get entirely upheaved by none other than the younger prince nikolai who interrupts her illicit late-night meeting in the winter garden. now she's caught attention of one of the two people whose scrutiny she'd been trying so hard to avoid for the last few days of the event and she's not entirely sure she actually minds it.
preview: He held her gaze for a moment, hardly moving a muscle himself, before he spoke again, his voice firm. “No games. Remember?” The huff that left her might have been a chuckle, only completely devoid of any humour. She stared down at him for a moment, eyes glassy and tired, like it had all just caught up to her and she was finally crumbling. “I almost believe you. I think it’s the face. It’s a kind one.” Her eyes searched his face, clinical, like one would observe a painting of him on the gallery wall. “Or maybe you’re just handsome.” “Why, thank you.” He offered her his best attempt at a self-assured smirk and decided it fell flat. Even his ego was dampened by the moment, which was a feat in itself. He sighed. “What did they do to you?” “Is that a rhetorical question?” Kind of. “Do you want to answer it?” She shook her head. “Then it was rhetorical.”
word count: 3.4k (compared to 5k in the 1st part this is tiny)
pinterest 📸
tropes/warnings: not cannon, vasily's still alive, nikolai's kinda suspicious that y/n is about to commit some kind of treason and it's reflected in the way he acts, there is ✨miscommunication✨in this chapter, though it's mostly bc it's not computing for nikolai just how desperate y/n is, she's a lot of bravado that crumbles when he inadvertently corners her, also babe's got trust issues, and trauma (not delved into in this chapter) + adult language
a/n: well, this is like a year too late to the game, but i could not get it out of my head. keep in mind that pieces of information and explanations are left out intentionally, we are only aware of what nikolai is aware of (which is not much, as he'll come to find out) and yes, i might have engineered some ✨drama✨ to bring them closer together emotionally, so we don't all get stuck on surface attraction and vague suspicions
nikolai's POV
If one imagined the Court to be an organism - which was not a hard thing to do, given how reliably it behaved - then the whispers of its courtiers were the lifeblood, coursing steadily through its golden vessels. And if rumours were a sickness, then one could hardly be surprised to see them spread to every last corner of this monstrous creature as quickly and reliably as a plague would. Which was very quick, indeed.
Nikolai had hardly managed to get his hands on a plate of some highly garnished and questionably nutritious food before the whispers reached him. It was not a particularly subtle affair, as these things rarely were, and Nikolai had a sneaking suspicion this was entirely by design. He didn’t think he imagined that the ladies had been standing a bit further away just a moment ago, and he knew with certainty that as far as whispers went, these could hardly be classified as hushed. They made a show of leaning in and raising delicate hands to their lips, but it was the eyes that betrayed them - sharp and quick, glossy with excitement, and slipping surreptitiously in his direction as if to check if he was listening. He was.
And if he took his overly-decorated food elsewhere in the garden, then the mill would start all over again, like a broken melody. She does have that look about her. Her poor parents, they’d say, but Nikolai did not believe their pity. It was, he thought, just a well-aimed knife. Hush, someone’s mother reprimanded, voice sharp, her mother’s right there. But by the looks of her, Nikolai doubted it was anything Mrs Braam hadn’t heard before. She sat, straight-backed and completely devoid of colour, at one of the wrought-iron tables set around the palace gardens. There was an abandoned tart on the plate in front of her, forgotten and replaced by the glass of brandy she gripped with a shaky hand, and next to her was an older Kerch woman who was valiantly attempting to drown out the whispers with conversation. Nikolai averted his gaze, unwilling to participate in this cruel charade.
But when his gaze landed in the distance it caught, as if on a shard of glass, on the pale green silk of her dress. Around her, a few ladies and their handmaids had formed a tactical formation of sorts, attack dogs in the finest silks, their eyes sharp and vaguely threatening. If even one of them caught someone staring, they’d turn in unison like hounds that scented blood and stare them down into submission, then turn back around and smile sweetly at Miss Braam, as if nothing had just transpired. Nikolai was therefore very careful to look only when one of them was taking a shot with her mallet, lest he meet the end of one of those glares.
And so he watched her in increments, like a series of paintings of an obsessed artist - the twist of her body as she swung her mallet, the errant lock of her hair cascading over her shoulder, the lovely twist of her smile when the ball went through the hoop. The fourth time he looked she was leaning on her mallet, watching the girl in purple take her shot, and he realised she had her mother’s eyes and none of her pallor. There was a brush of colour high atop her cheekbones so that in her green dress she looked like a maiden of spring, vivid in her liveliness. If she was concerned with the gossip, she did not show it. And when she caught him looking the fifth time, she met his eyes the same way she did last night in the greenhouse, steady and unflinching. And then she smiled.
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She was smiling again when she entered the library in a flurry of silk later that afternoon, her voice light as she called out to the librarian, “Have you found it?”
Nikolai flipped a page, eyes skimming the blueprints and the calculations, and waited for her to notice him. If it was a bit theatrical, he blamed it on the boredom and not the fact that her irritation was a source of great amusement for him. And he knew before she even let out an annoyed huff, that she was bound to be irritated by his ploy.
“Your Highness.” Her voice was even, though it seemed to require not an unsubstantial amount of effort to keep it so. “I didn’t know you were using the library.”
Nikolai flipped another page and looked up at her only long enough to offer her a smirk. “No need to play coy, Miss Braam. I’ve sent everyone away. We’re alone.”
“Wonderful,” she said dryly and shut the door behind her, pressing her back against it. Nikolai allowed himself a private, self-satisfied smile. If she had been so keen on getting away from him she could’ve simply walked back out, but she hadn’t. “And I presume you were also the one that sent someone to tell me the book I was looking for was found?”
“Catching on quick.” Finally, Nikolai shut the book he was perusing and looked up at her. She was wearing the same dress she wore to brunch, the colour a muted jade in the soft, warm shadows of the library. And when he looked up to her face she had her eyebrow raised, like a school-teacher that had caught him staring. Nikolai offered his best boyish smile. “You look lovely.”
“Oh, shut it.” It was not the response he usually got, but he was still amused as he watched her turn her back on him and start fiddling with the lock. He had half a mind to ask if she was blushing again but she jerked that pin in place with such ferocity that he decided against it. Besides, it was answer enough.
Instead, he said, “And a personality to match it.”
She checked the door once, then jerked it again for good measure, and finally when she was satisfied that no one could enter and catch them speaking, she turned around and levelled him with a look. “Careful, I might decide to be polite and bore you out of your mind.”
“You’d combust.”
She pursed her lips but did not deny it. “What do you want?”
Nikolai uncrossed and crossed his ankles again, sinking deeper into his sprawl across one of the chairs that were neatly arranged around a long table, his gaze following her as she made her way towards him. “Only the pleasure of your company.” Then, his voice gone low and serious, he continued, “That, and to ask how you were doing — after the brunch, I mean.”
“Oh, that.” For a moment he saw something cross her features, a look of startled confusion, as if she hadn’t quite expected him to ask, or at least not in such a way. Or maybe he was just imagining things because next he knew she was propping her hip against the table and looking distinctly unconcerned. “As any scandalous woman - basking in the attention, utterly debauched.”
He must have frowned or made some sort of unstudied expression because suddenly she was laughing at him and using the brief moment of confusion to lean forward and steal the book from his lap. She smelled like something sweet and flowery, like a late summer afternoon.
There was a tone of playful accusation in her voice as she said, “So they did find the book.”
He ignored it. “You don’t seem particularly upset.” It was hard to tell if it was a statement or a question, but even Nikolai could not push down the bewilderment that coloured his words.
Y/N, to her credit, didn’t seem to mind his confusion. She moved one of the chairs and sat on the edge of the table, legs crossed, the book open across her lap as she ran her fingertips along one of the blueprints. “It would be quite counterproductive to be upset,” she said conversationally, flipping a page, “given that I’ve started the rumour myself.”
Slowly, Nikolai eased himself back into his chair, allowing the confession to settle over him, eyes never quite leaving her. He could tell from the too-casual way she flipped the pages that she was very much aware of his gaze and very intent on pretending she wasn’t.
He lost his patience after she flipped the fourth page. “How?”
She stroked the edge of the book fondly, like it was a pet or a lover, and took her time with flipping the page before she deigned to answer him. “I made sure to be seen sneaking into my room last night. Then I told one of my maids to talk about a handsome lieutenant she’d seen sneaking around the place at roughly the same time.” She flipped another page and sighed happily at whatever she saw on it. “Anyway, I figured someone would piece it together into a scandal sooner or later. By breakfast, the story was that we were seen together, and by brunch, well…” She looked up at him and smirked. “I’ll spare you the lurid details.”
Nikolai was rather proud of the way he didn’t wonder about the lurid details and instead focused on the matter at hand. “Why?”
“I wish to spare your princely sensibility.” She was flipping the pages and ignoring him again, though he could tell she was thoroughly amused by the game she was playing from the way the corner of her lip twitched slightly.
He drew a furtive breath in through his nose and closed his eyes to steel himself against the taunts. He was not fifteen anymore, he could hold it together. “No, I meant why in the name of Saints would you do that?”
“I do very little in the name of Saints or Ghezen these days, Your Highness.” Nikolai did not doubt that. She let the book fall open on her lap and leaned back against her hands, watching him thoughtfully. Then she shrugged and said, rather matter-of-fact, “I told you I bite when cornered.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think that meant you’d bite yourself.”
There was something vaguely unsettling at the way she smiled at him then. A woman cornered, a desperate snap of the teeth, a final show of defiance. Her voice was oddly flat in comparison as she said, “An animal will chew its own leg off to be free.”
For a moment, all Nikolai could do was stare. It occurred to him only then that the two of them seemed to have in mind two vastly different versions of last night’s events. He felt that on an intellectual level, this was quite a jump from the playful threat he’d left her with last night. His hands gripped the armrests, but he could not feel his fingertips, and for a minute he seemed to be overly aware of the blood rushing through his ears and the steady beat of his heart. He could not hear his stumbling thoughts over the sound of it.
Then he heard himself say, as if from far away, “Is that what you think of me? That this had been my intention?”
“I think,” she said, having gone very still where she sat, “that I’m not going to play your game.”
The air between them shifted, growing raw and strange as if someone had cast a strange spell over it. Belatedly, Nikolai realised that this was not the question he’d truly meant to ask, but he also knew that she wouldn’t have answered it either way. Not when her spine was so rigid and her fingers white-knuckled where she wrapped them around the edge of the table, not when she looked at him carefully as if half-expecting him to lash out. What are you so afraid of? He’d meant to say. But he thought she might not know the answer anyway, or that the answer would simply be everything.
Slowly he reached up to rub his face, careful not to shift from his spot and startle her. Then he leaned his head back against the backrest of his chair and observed the point where the tall shelves met the ornate ceiling. The silence between them felt like being underwater, still and suffocating.
“Okay,” he said after a while, to no one in particular. Then he drew a breath and looked back down at her. “Alright. No games.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He was looking at her down his lashes, head still tipped back, his voice carefully bland. She looked like she might object, so he continued, “So let me just make this clear. You attempted to shoot your reputation to pieces because you thought that would stop me from approaching you tonight?”
She hid her uncertainty like a snake hid its legs, but Nikolai saw it flash briefly across her features before she pressed her lips together and stared him down. “You and the others. But mostly you, yes.”
“You lashed out without thinking, didn’t you?”
A muscle feathered in her jaw, but she kept looking at him, tenaciously stubborn. If she was afraid of him still, she did a very good job at hiding it. Which, Nikolai thought, was a pattern. “What does it matter?” she asked, defensive.
“It matters because I didn’t think you’d go about it so self-destructively. And that’s on me.” He pushed himself up from the chair, a bit too quickly, and regretted it the instant he saw her flinch. He froze for a moment, allowing the uncomfortable feeling of it to wash over him and fuel his determination, before he turned away and headed for the door. “I’ll fix it.”
“What? No.” From somewhere behind him he heard her produce a high-pitched, panicked noise followed by the sound of her feet scurrying across the library. By the time she caught him, he was two-thirds of the way out. “Stop. No. Nikolai!”
As he felt her fingers dig into his wrist he thought, quite obtusely, that her hands seemed deceptively delicate from afar. Then he voiced the very next, stupid thing that came to his mind. “Is that all it took for you to call me by my name?”
She tugged at his wrist for good measure, clearly frustrated, then let go when she was sure he’d stopped attempting to leave. “What will you do?” she ground out after a moment, her breath quickened. Nikolai knew that if he reached out to touch the inside of her wrist again he’d feel the same panicked flutter of her pulse. He held back.
“I’ll discredit the source. Which shouldn’t be hard since your sources are pitifully unreliable.” He shrugged, falling easily back onto his confidence. “Or I’ll simply tell them all to shut up.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“Isn’t it?” He smiled down at her, amused by the way she had planted herself firmly between him and the door as if he couldn’t simply go around her. “Just trust me. I’ll make it go away.”
“Well, that would entirely defeat the purpose of why I did it!”
It took an astronomical amount of effort for him not to laugh, though by the look she shot him the amusement must have slipped past his defences. He looked at the door above her head and did his best to collect himself before he answered. “Don’t say I didn’t try to spare your feelings.” He lowered his gaze back down to her. “But I would have asked you to dance even if they called you the whore of Ketterdam. So it was a moot point anyway.”
He noted again, the same way he had last night, that her blush seemed to creep up on her quickly and that it started not on her cheeks, but below, as a smattering of colour just beneath her collarbones. It rose like the tide, but she did not let him see it reach her cheeks, and instead let out a frustrated sigh before going around him. Nikolai turned to watch her as she went back to the table and threw herself down into the chair, sullen and rosy-cheeked.
“So the bottom line is that I have no choice?” she said eventually, looking up from her hands, her voice thin and tired.
Nikolai’s amusement melted into confusion. “What?” He’d miscalculated, again.
This seemed to frustrate her further because she shot him such a vicious glare that he nearly flinched from it. “Oh, don’t play stupid. You’ve got me cornered. Either I confess or you throw me out into the limelight tonight. Is that what you want to hear? That you win?” Whatever energy she had poured into this display of ferociousness seemed to drain her completely, because in the end she just slumped back into the chair and closed her eyes. “Fine then. You win.”
Nikolai just stared at her, confused, and it was a while before he remembered that he had use of his limbs and that he could just walk over to her. He did so slowly, cautiously, like one would approach a snared animal, before lowering himself into a crouch in front of her. “Hey Ketterdam?” She did not respond. “Look at me.”
She seemed so fragile then, eyelids fluttering with the effort to keep them closed, the skin thin and so translucent that he could see the bluish outlines of the fine vessels beneath it. Nikolai had no idea how she’d extrapolated all that from their conversation, but he suspected she’d been spinning herself into a frenzy since last night. He thought that if he looked at it from her side, and at an angle, he might see the logic behind it. If she felt her hands were tied and she’d tried to bite her way out of it, then he supposed what he’d just done must’ve felt like having her mouth taped shut. He ignored the faint wave of nausea that rolled over him then. She opened her eyes, so slightly that Nikolai might have missed it had he not been right in front of her, looking for the smallest twitch of muscles on her face. He held her gaze for a moment, hardly moving a muscle himself, before he spoke again, his voice firm. “No games. Remember?”
The huff that left her might have been a chuckle, only completely devoid of any humour. She stared down at him for a moment, eyes glassy and tired, like it had all just caught up to her and she was finally crumbling. “I almost believe you. I think it’s the face. It’s a kind one.” Her eyes searched his face, clinical, like one would observe a painting of him on the gallery wall. “Or maybe you’re just handsome.”
“Why, thank you.” He offered her his best attempt at a self-assured smirk and decided it fell flat. Even his ego was dampened by the moment, which was a feat in itself. He sighed. “What did they do to you?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
Kind of. “Do you want to answer it?”
She shook her head.
“Then it was rhetorical.” Nikolai leaned his elbow against the table, steadying himself, and propped his cheek against his hand as he looked sideways at her. She seemed calmer now, if entirely deflated. “At least now I know you’re not mounting a coup d'état,” he supplied, unhelpfully.
She made a derisive sound, and it took him a second to realise it was a snort. “Because I’m such a sorry mess? Yes, you’re right, nothing so grandiose.” Her fingers slipped absentmindedly across the book that was left forgotten on the table. “You could though, if you wanted to. I think.”
“Yeah, probably.” This time, he did smirk properly. Then he patted the armrest of her chair and pushed himself up. “Now go rest. And wear something ugly tonight, so I won’t even be tempted to look your way.”
This, he found, caught her attention, because her gaze snapped to him almost instantly, suddenly alert. “What’s the catch?”
“Saints, you would not believe me if I told you the Sun set in the West, would you?”
She didn’t answer that, just raised one delicate, precise eyebrow. Well, at least she didn’t look so defeated anymore, which Nikolai decided he’d take as a win.
“Try not to start any rumours in the meantime.” He winked at her, tapping his fingers against the table before he turned to leave the library. “One fire at a time.”
tags (i'm so sorry to bother you if you completely forgot about this 😭): @star-flecked-soul ; @meg-the-second-greatest ; @plowdenkm ; @londongirlcamefallingdown ; @ all the lovely anons in my inbox! <3
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reggieslocket · 1 year
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arthurianpeasant · 1 year
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In my humble opinion there’s only 3 things that men should be and that is
Bloody
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Slutty
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And pathetic
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shadowandbone · 1 year
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eggsaladstain · 1 year
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shadow and bone season 2 but it's just memes
(season 1 version)
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fantastic-nonsense · 3 months
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Things Kaz canonically does in the two years between Crooked Kingdom and Rule of Wolves:
(presumably) massively expands the Dregs' territory
buys Pekka's old club (the Emerald Palace) and completely renovates it, turning it into The Silver Six
massively expands the Crow Club to the point where it's "three times the size of every other establishment on the block"
builds an underground tunnel that goes from the Crow Club to the Geldstraat, where the Van Eck Mansion is
takes Jesper out on jobs with him often enough that Wylan has jokingly banned Jesper from answering the door when he knocks
learns about Ketterdam's Suli laborers and picks up additional knowledge of Suli culture
keeps up with Inej's whereabouts and helps her take out slavers
expands his information network to the Kerch colonies
is on friendly enough terms with the King of Ravka that he taught Nikolai how to pick locks and Nikolai feels comfortable personally writing him a letter when he needs to steal the titanium from Kerch
disguises himself just to follow people around on the streets
was planning to steal the titanium from the military base anyway just for fun
And that's just the stuff we see from Nikolai's and Zoya's incredibly limited perspectives during their Ketterdam sidequest
I 100% agree with Zoya when she thinks that "maybe Kaz was like Nikolai, a boy with an unquiet mind, a man in perpetual need of challenge" because ROW makes it so obvious that Kaz is bored and incredibly restless in his success. Someone get our boy a new life's purpose and a subscription to a long-running unsolved mystery podcast stat
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questioning-pisces · 10 months
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nothing is stronger than the bond between an aroace and their favorite fictional character
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mal-zoya · 1 year
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Honestly? Netflix should pay me for my quality promotion work I do here.
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