#&. writing 「 zoya nazyalensky. 」

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Nikolai Lantsov x gn! Reader - Kings and fools

A/n: whoops, cannon? she died yesterday. also translations at the end

Summary: Being trapped in a Fjerdan lab isn't much fun, but things do start to get interesting when someone you recognize shows up.

Warnings: Swearing, implied death, implied torture, beating people up, prolly ptsd, just all around fun times.

[Pronouns used: You/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: (romantic!) nikolai x reader]

You were going to laugh because of the sheer hilariousness of this situation. Never-mind, you were currently laughing your head off.

One of the guard's turned around to look at you with fierce eyes and smacked your face thrice just for little a giggle slipping past your lips.

"Tig!" He shouts at you in Fjerdan after hitting your face repeatedly. "Tig!"

But you could care less, because they obviously didn't realize who they had just captured, because if they had, they would be carrying a body bag instead. War would start between Ravka and Fjerda, or perhaps they would keep it a secret and invade Ravka knowing they had a dead king.

The King of fucking Ravka was shoved into your cell.

The Fjerdan guard scampered off probably because he had spent too much time on such a lowly prisoner not knowing if he used his fucking eyes he would see that he would be getting a raise within the hour.

Alas, he didn't and now you were stuck with an unwanted roommate.

"Are you okay?" He whispered to you, and your breath stopped.

You had not expected that, you had expected some arrogant fool, as kings usually were. Kings and fools were one in the same after all.

"What?"

"He hit you."

Blinking a couple of times, you just shook your head. "He was being kind."

The King narrowed his eyes. "Unless I'm mistaken, kind people do not hurt someone."

You wanted to say that it didn't hurt, but you were weak. The bruises forming would say otherwise, and lying wouldn't get you anywhere. Even so, the only way to survive this place was to be strong, someone slapping you three times because you laughed wasn't the worst you've experienced or seen. A slap was child's play.

"You'll soon find out kindness comes in more forms then one."

___________

It was Nikolai Lantsov's first true day in this hellish Fjerdan laboratory.

Now he would find out what you were used for.

"Get up." You kick his side as he groans on the dirt floor. "Get up, you babink!"

He throws his head up to look at you with curled lips.

"I certainly won't if you don't ask me nicely."

You have heard of his ability to charm, and you've heard of his large ego, you've found the only thing that's true is the latter. Nikolai has an incredible ego whether it be a facade or not it didn't matter. It was going to cost him his first real beating, and make all the other ones look like mercy.

"Unless you want one of the guards to kick the shit out of you, get up!"

He sighed, but quickly followed your orders and you vaguely wondered if he was used to giving orders rather then receiving them, or if he let all his generals do it for him.

You shouldn't be helping this poor fool, but some part of you still burned with the need to protect your country, and by extension of that the king. It was a part of you that dared to hope, it was weak, and the reason you were in this situation. You thought that hopeful part of you had died the first week you were here, and you knew they weren't coming for you. Despite being their best.

You should have known better then, just like you should know better know.

But you're a fool.

Somehow, for the next five months you manage to shield Nikolai away from the brunt of the nasty atrocities in this lab-rat prison. Both of you do your labor with no foul-language, or whimpers escaping. You manage to stay quiet and to get the guards off his, and your backs. It's a miracle considering he talks so much.

You just hope you can keep him out of the lab.

"So, you know how to speak Ravkan?"

Your back stiffens, and the cuts there sting a little as you do but you manage to ignore it in favor of glaring at the man who's sitting in your cell beside you. How he managed to remember you cursing at him in Ravkan that first morning is beyond you. Usually time will seep deep into bones until there's nothing but the memory of pain, and the moments of suffering. Having someone else there is dangerous, because it lessens the load and makes you a fool, for it gives you hope.

"You should stop asking questions you know the answer to." You muttered while rolling your eyes at him.

"That wasn't my question." He shoved your shoulder, if you weren't here he would have had more strength to not shove it so weakly. If you weren't here, you wouldn't wince slightly anyways, if he hadn't shown up this would have never happened.

His bright piercing gaze meet yours and you wanted to curse for your heart stuttering in your chest. At least you knew there weren't any grisha around to hear it.

Now, that very thought made you sick.

"What do you want to ask me then?" You ask him, as his eyes glint dangerously and you wonder whether kings are the fools, or if it's just the people who get caught in their snare that are.

"Three questions," He bargains. "Then I'll let you sleep."

Pursing your lips, you think about what could go wrong, but you find you don't care. You've been fearing for your life, and pain for over three years, if your name was still uttered around Ravka then Alina Starkov was going to come running for your rescue. It didn't matter if he found out who you were through some silly questions, it was just leveling the playing field. It wasn't fair, you mused, that you knew his identity, but he didn't know yours.

"Fine." You snap.

Plus, you were feeling slightly more sappy tonight, if he wanted to hear your sob story that he's already been told but has forgotten then he could be your guest.

"Where did you live?"

"Fjerda, then Ravka."

"What did you used to, do before all of this." He gestured towards the cell.

"I hunted down the people I used to work for." You speak rather curtly before facing away from him, unwanted memories flickering behind your irises. "I think that's enough questions for tonight."

But he grabs your chin and turns your head to face him as he shifts his body closer to yours so you were only a breath apart.

"I have one more question left."

"I hate you."

He smiled, "No you don't, drüskelle maleni."

You slapped his hand away from your face, and moved away from him with a furious expression written with the frown on your lips.

You thought if anything, he would know you as the spy, not as the drüskelle maleni - the drüskelle ghost.

That's what you were before, someone who had been raised to kill without thought, to someone who found humanity again. Then lost it as they had to repent for their sins.

"I'm sorry lapushka, I shouldn't have-" Nikolai tries to reach out for you, but even in your tiny cell do you manage to move away from him.

"Don't Moi Tsar." You hissed, quickly silencing the King. You didn't hear from him again that night

_____________

Of course the next day was shit.

Nikolai refused to follow any orders and you knew the guards were getting fed up with his behavior. Currently, so were you, did he just forget every lesson you taught him to stay quiet? Was he such a fool as to not realize that if he didn't stay hidden enough they would figure out who he was and he would be dead by morning?

Yet it was not in Nikolai Lantsov's nature to stay quiet, saints, you doubted he even knew the word.

If he was going to be this reckless than you couldn't help him, you wouldn't help him. What's the point if he was bargaining with his own life?

That's what you repeated to yourself anyways, as he was slowly getting dragged off.

"We're taking this demjin to the lab." One grumbled as they pulled Nikolai with a group of soldiers.

Your blood went cold, and your eyes started to fill with dread.

You had been in the lab, once, but they decided they didn't actually need you. Still, you got to see the people being put under terrible things, testing them to see how much the body could handle. There were crimes not even imaginable, so bad that when someone opened their mouth to speak about them, a scream got let out instead.

The unlucky ones would disappear once they crossed the border into the lab. The lucky ones would come back alive, maybe even a little maimed, but alive.

Maybe they weren't so lucky than, maybe the real curse is going through it than surviving it.

Djel, You prayed. Please let this work, for once let me save something instead of kill. Don't use me as your blade but as your shield. Just this once.

You ran up to the guards and tore them off of Nikolai, breaking their grip on him.

"Me jer jonink." You whispered to the King in your mother tongue, not quite knowing what you were asking forgiveness for. Perhaps it was for the way you snapped, or for the lives you've stolen, you don't quite know. Maybe it was for the way he laid his eyes on you, and you on him. The way you've protected him, and the way he's given you hope.

Kings and fools are one in the same.

"What do you think you're doing!" One growled, while the other two held down your arms against your thrashing.

Saving him. "Helping my country, Fjerda." You lifted your chin staring defiantly into their faces. Knowing that you were like them once, killing grisha, only to be shown mercy, and turned into a weapon against the Drüskelle. You could be that one last time, you could serve Ravka, even if it meant death.

You could serve your love.

"You should know that grisha anything but vile, they are good, they are-"

The guard not holding you down, knees you in the gut, causing your knees to tremble and your strength to waiver. Yet the men gripping your arms forced your legs to work, lest you break them.

"Grisha will run this country to the ground!" He yells at you, spit hitting your face.

You knew you had to go further if you wanted them to forget about Nikolai and his stunt of, existing.

Taking a breath you opened your eyes and hoped.

"Fel holm ve koop djet."

Immediately they start to drag you away from Nikolai who tries to shout, to get them to stop, but they ignore the King. Instead they seem to find enjoyment with bruising you up on your way to the lab.

Now you truly understood why you asked for forgiveness, because the look in his eyes as they pulled you away could only scream love.

Words 1843

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Translations:

Fjerdan:

Tig - Shut up

Drüskelle - Witchhunter

Demjin - Demon

Me jer jonink. - Forgive me

Fel holm ve koop djet. - Our home is better for it

Ravkan:

Babink - Barbarian

Maleni - ghost

Lapushka - Darling

Moi Tsar - My King

Grishaverse taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626 @brekkers-desigirl @emmsamultifan06

[awanderingtortoise]

zoyalai deserves a beach holiday

[aleksanderscult]

It is also a teeny bit weird to make Zoya being prettier and thus a more ideal sun summoner be set up as thing to be proven wrong in the beginning but then Zoya actually becomes the Queen with lots of focus on how gorgeous she is and Alina fades into obscurity and wears old shawls.

I mean yeah.

Because apparently one of the messages this trilogy wanted to pass was how nothing is what it seems. Alina is not weak but very powerful, she just doesn't know it. Aleksander is not a man to be trusted but a selfish, power-hungry bastard, except Alina doesn't realize it until it was too late (*inserting dramatic tones if you didn't notice*).

Normally, Zoya wouldn't get that much spotlight. But, alas, Bardugo has said many times that she's one of her most favorite characters so she was bound to become important. A Squaller (among hundreds) became important by becoming a Saint as well.

Saints in the Grishaverse normally have very distinct, unusual powers. Alina had her light, Aleksander his shadows, Elizaveta's Materialki powers manifested themselves through her ability to control nature while Ilya didn't allow his powers to be restricted at all (he was both a Healer and a Durast as well as an inventor). Plus, they get martyred and Zoya is...well....alive.

Her push to the spotlight was, for me, too forced while, at the same time, the author tried to remove Alina's presence (as if she wasn't the main character for three books straight that the antagonist fell in love with and his plans revolved around her). Whether someone likes Alina or not, we have to admit that it's not going to be the same without her on the front. The story doesn't really make sense without her. It's like removing Harry Potter from his own books.

And it seems that whether Alina has powers or not, she stays hidden. And Zoya got what she wanted all along: the spotlight.

[dasiesanddarkness]

i was watching shadow and bone with my brother and we got to the scene at the menagerie with inej and he goes "they're very barter-y."

and like. yeah they are kid. that is an apt description of the Kerch good job buddy.

[stromuprisahat]

I know abandoning duty for love is popular Western trope, but we have five (5) books trying to persuade us Nikolai is the best solution of Ravkan situation, and he lives and breathes for the country... only for him to throw it away for a pussy, gifting the responsibilities to the least well-suited person around, realistically dooming the country to finally collapse.

[notelcol]

Second vote is here! ❤️

Saving the character vote for the last one to try and make a chaotic story😆

So far we have shadow and bone as our winner fandom🫶(can’t lie I was a little surprised but I should have known the grishaverse is thirsty)

Thank you for voting! Keep an eye out for the next vote. Let’s see how interesting we can make this😝🌹

[wafflesandkruge]

a/n: missing scene from sab 2x02 where nikolai finds a grieving zoya in the spinning wheel. i really hated how zoya’s first scene is her telling alina she has her back like babe,,,your family just died yet you’re so well adjusted and willing to help like where’s the trauma and anger 😭 anyway this is for all y’all delusional zoyalais out there i see you i am you

The halls of the Spinning Wheel were dark as Nikolai patrolled them, whistling to himself as he walked. Well, “patrolled” wasn’t the right word as that implied he was looking for a threat. There wasn’t much out here in the mountains that could qualify as one. So, it was more of a stroll, he supposed. A saunter. 

It was off putting being back after so long at sea. The air felt stale, the ground far too stable, and the gilded walls seemed to trap him more than any cramped cabin on the Volkvolny could. The stars painted on the hallway ceilings were only cheap facsimiles of what could be seen on the seas. 

It wasn’t that Nikolai hated his life as a Lantsov. It was what gave him the freedom to live as Sturmhond, after all. But every moment, he could feel the weight of Ravka pressed upon his shoulders, a drowning man that threatened to drag Nikolai under the waves along with himself. But if not Nikolai, who would save them all? Certainly not his father’s indifference, nor Vasily’s cruelty. 

And now, with the Sun Summoner, perhaps he stood a chance. 

If he could get Alilna to agree to his proposal, he’d have the power he needed to finally take control of the crown. Then, it’d just be a matter of finding a solution to the Darkling and the Fold. Simple. He’d had mathematics exam more challenging. 

A quiet scuffle from somewhere ahead broke him out of his schemes. He frowned. No one should have been in this wing of the observatory, and especially not this late. He stilled and strained his ears, trying to ascertain where the sound came from. 

There was another muffled whimper, definitely a woman’s voice, from a room three doors ahead. Nikolai’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t stated that refugees should stay in the other wing, but still, he didn’t want people wandering around when he had more volatile inventions and projects hiding here. He crept forward, staying close to the wall so his shadow wouldn’t give him away. 

The closer he got to the closed door, the more apparent the quiet sobs became. Something in his chest twisted. Perhaps it was just someone mourning. There was more than enough loss to go around these days. He found himself hesitating as he gripped the doorknob.

He could offer some comfort, or at least warn her to not touch the cannon he’d been tinkering with the last time he’d used the room. He pushed the door open quietly and slipped inside.

He’d barely caught a glimpse of a figure dressed in blue hunched over on a bench under the window before her head jerked up towards him, eyes wide, and she thrust her hands forward. 

Nikolai slammed into the wall, sharp bursts of pain going off like fireworks all over his body. He fell to the ground in an undignified sprawl. Everything hurt. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs as he gasped for breath.

Had he accidentally let an assassin in among the Grisha? He struggled to push himself up, head spinning, as he went for the pistol at his waist. His fingers had only just closed around the familiar handle before a heavy boot ground itself onto his hand, the pressure making him swear loudly. He could feel the bones in his hand grinding against each other, the grain of the wooden floor digging into his flesh.

“Stay down,” the woman snarled. He blinked the spots out of his eyes as he moved his head to look up at her. The world spun and danced, but her face was in perfect focus. Saints, her face. She looked a few years younger than him, with light brown skin, windswept black curls, and dark eyes that glared fiercely at him even as they shone with tears. Her blue kefta was torn and stained as if she’d fought an entire war to get here. She looked like a vengeful Saint, equal parts grief and righteous anger. 

If she were an assassin, it wasn’t the worst way to go.

Nikolai raised his free hand in surrender. He eyed her warily, his hand aching and his body feeling like it’d been going ten rounds in a ring with Tolya. 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, voice rough. She swiped her torn sleeve across her face to get rid of her tears. “First Army soldiers are housed on the first floor.”

She didn’t know who he was, he realized. All she saw was the uniform, not the name. It was a rather freeing thought. He attempted a smile, but from her unchanged expression, it didn’t do him any favors. 

“Same as you, I reckon. Couldn’t sleep.”

He could see the doubt in her face, but still, she removed her boot from his hand. Feeling flooded back into his fingers. He winced as he wiggled them. They’d definitely be black and blue by morning.

“Find another room to sulk in. I was here first.” She didn’t bother helping him up as she turned on him and returned to her former seat on the bench. She raised an eyebrow as if expecting him to beg for her forgiveness and scurry out with his tail between his legs. 

Well, luckily for her, he was made of sterner stuff. He retrieved his pistol and brushed off his jacket as he clambered to his feet. He rolled his shoulders, working through the aches. 

“Misery loves company, wouldn’t you say so?”

She scowled. “Good thing I’m not misery. Get out.”

He studied her once again. Her expression was guarded, any shred of vulnerability locked away behind unscalable walls. She was not a girl in need of comfort, or a soldier in need of a friend. There was a proud tilt of her chin that told him she’d rather march alone than have anyone help shoulder her burdens. 

He could respect that.

He turned to go, but couldn’t help looking back one last time. He didn’t know what compelled him to lower his head. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said as sincerely as he could manage.

She threw back her head and laughed, sharp and scathing. He stared. “Sorry? For what? There’s nothing you could have done, otkazat'sya. Save your apologies for someone who wants them.”

The moonlight from the window made her glow, ethereal and untouchable. 

He hated losing the last word, but she made a worthy opponent. Nikolai closed the door behind him and went on his way, whistling and thinking of a girl with dark eyes and a sharp tongue.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Me literally like two days ago: Give me a week or so to finish this book before I start planning a new fic, and then I'll probably finish at least one of my current wips on ao3 before I start posting this one

Me now: GUESS WHO WROTE CHAPTER ONE OF ANOTHER NEW FIC

Portrait of a Dead Girl is (hopefully) going up on AO3 today folks! This is my first time writing a fic for the Shadow and Bone trilogy instead of Six of Crows (really branching out, I know) but I am so so excited about it at this point I'm really writing it for myself more than anyone reading it but ah well, and anyway I thought I'd share a lil snippet on here before I post it so I hope that you enjoy! :)

Note: I have completely warped the backstories of these characters and the worldbuilding of the Grishaverse in order to have it mimic the landscape of Western Europe in the mid 1500s, just bear with me I promise it makes sense so long as you lean into it <3

Archive warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Summary:

Alina Starkov was given to Duke Aleksander Morozova of Os Alta in marriage when she was fifteen years old. Within a year, she was dead. The official cause of Alina's death was marked as putrid fever, but many at the time believed, and many in the future will go on to believe, that she was poisoned by her husband.

-

This fic is completely inspired by The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O'Farrel, which is a work of historical fiction based on the real lives of Duchess Lucrezia d'Este (née de' Medici) and Duke Alfonso ii d'Este of Ferrara. You don't need any prior knowledge of The Marriage Portrait or history to read and enjoy this fic, but know that my writing is very much going to mimic that of O'Farrel in format and although I'm hoping to write the story in my personal usual writing style I will definitely be borrowing a lot of my descriptors, symbols, and so on and so forth from O'Farrel - there will be some of mine too though :)

Snippet from chapter one:

She understands, now, the reason for their sudden journey to such a strange, lonely place as this. He has brought her here, brought her to a stone fortress far away from anything she even vaguely knows, to murder her. It is here that she will die. 

He leans towards her, resting his fingers on the bare skin of her wrist as he says something. She doesn’t listen, though she is aware that she can hear the words. The astonishment of her epiphany has thrust her right up out of her body, and she is fighting the urge to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all as she floats above the couple at the table and bumps against the ceiling beams like the clumsy ghost she is surely destined to become. She watches herself nodding at him, mumbling a polite and customary reply to whatever it was he said, sipping her wine and taking a bite of her bread. The couple sit together and talk, eat, drink - as though nothing at all is amiss between them, as though this is a normal dinner on a normal day, that it will be followed by a normal evening and a normal night. The Alina sitting at the table is talking about the journey here, about pretty landscapes and her enjoyment of the ride he has taken her on. The Alina floating at the ceiling knows that the version of herself below is a liar; the ride here was dull, through blank and stark fields beneath an ugly grey sky. Her husband had set the pace at a trot, mile after mile of it, Alina’s back aching and her skin chafed by wet stockings. Even inside her squirrel-lined gloves, the fingers clutching at her reins had been frozen with cold. She kept looking at the mane of her horse, half expecting it to have stopped in place, encased by ice. 

Alina had wanted to spur her horse, once they’d reached the countryside and Os Alta faded into the distance. She’d wanted to dig her heels into its flank, feel its hooves fly over the stones and soil, to move over the flat landscape at real speed. She’d wanted to feel giddy and alive and drunk in the wind and rain and sky. But she did not. Because she knew that she must not. Her husband had ridden ahead with two guards either side of him, and her place was behind him - or next to him, if invited. But never in front.

Now she wishes that she’d done it anyway, that she had urged the mare into a gallop and streaked past him cackling like a madwoman, that she had released her hair into the wind as she rode, that her cloak had lashed out behind her and the hooves of her horse had flung mud across him and his guards. Even more than this, she wishes that she’d had the foresight to turn her reins towards the distant hills, where she could have lost herself off among the rocky folds and peaks somewhere he would never find her. 

But, of course, she did not. And now here she is, condemned by the manners she always has to try so hard to remember.

[mrs-jamesbbarnes]

In regards to the ending of Shadow and Bone season 2. Did I like it? Absolutely not. Do I see what they’re trying do? Yeah. They combined two books into one season and added five extra characters to the story. Things just moved so fast, and the story could’ve been told a LOT better.

For instance, we did not get Alina’s struggle. I think the beauty of her story in the books came from her needing to defeat the Darkling without becoming the monster he was and wanted her to be. It was an intense and dark path she took. Ultimately, the third amplifier’s power is shared with everyone to destroy the Fold. But the fact that she had to get to that point where she was okay with dying and/or being completely overwhelmed by the power if it meant saving everyone was the whole point of her struggle. Her reward was Mal, settling down with him to live a peaceful life. And she was ready to be done, to give it all up and just rest with him.

The fact that they skipped ALL of that makes the story so unnecessarily complicated. Because now she’s not ready to rest, she wants to help the Grisha. And she’s got power. But she delved into merzost to save Mal, so now she’s given into this path of darkness. That’s something book!Alina NEVER would have done. Leigh spent three books showing that. So now she’s got that darkness in her. And we know Elizaveta is going to try to resurrect the Darkling because that bee landed on Zoya as the Darkling’s body burned. So season 3 is going to go off the rails.

Also the fact that Mal made this BIG DEAL to the Darkling about how he wasn’t going to make the mistake of leaving Alina again and then the Fold is gone and the Darkling is dead and now he’s just leaving Alina? That’s just poor writing.

I’m hoping Alina and Mal still get their happy ending. Because TV!Mal deserves it, if nothing else.

Also it really bothers me that they just pushed Zoya aside for Alina. They could’ve sent Alina and Mal off into the sunset and let the story take its course. But now Zoya is a side character because Alina is the focus. And that really bothers me that they’re going to start the King of Scars storyline and not give Zoya the attention she deserves. Because Alina needs to be gone for her to embrace her destiny. Otherwise it looks like she’s just Nikolai’s (and Ravka’s) second choice. They messed with Leigh’s beautifully crafted hero’s journey for Alina, and Zoya is going to get screwed over because they did that and I HATE THAT for Zoya.

[yibeimolihuacha]

My problem is when I fall in love with a fictional character I can ship them with everyone, because if I fell in love with them then certainly so can everyone else, right?

Right?

[awanderingtortoise]

Did anyone say zoyalai fake dating Hollywood au, where they fall for eachother while simultaneously taking down morozova's abusive directing career?? No?? Well here it is anyway!

[aleksanderscult]

Zoya will grow out of the starry eyedness eventually though. She had such a huge ego, she can't stay like that forever.

If the books weren't written by Leigh Bardugo then I would definitely agree with you.

But this specific author either makes the characters worse book by book or doesn't give them development at all.

Normally, book characters show progression in their thoughts, feelings and through these: their actions. Just like we change in our real life, they change as well. They start seeing the world differently and even themselves. But in order for someone to change for the better then they must want it. They need to be self-conscious about what their past-self thought and did.

But Zoya doesn't. Either she thinks herself highly or when she sometimes doubts her past-self's actions, she lives in a denial.

[dreamtigress]

Grisha/Zowa Powers Conjecture

Adults concept uses for Grisha and zowa powers, ideas below.

I'm brainstorming various ways Grisha and zowa might use their powers for things for non-combat uses in their relationships, with their partners/lovers, in the bedroom, etc.

Heartrenders/Healers/Tailors and Corporalki in general seem to have some fairly obvious go to's. Affecting a partner's heart rate or mood. Temporarily or more permanently affecting various body parts. Using healing after BDSM scenes. There are some avenues for non-consent that I am not going to explore, but am aware are possible with Heartrender powers especially.

Fabrikators have options open to them for crafting items for sexual purposes. I've seen some great fics with Jesper making and manipulating sex toys. The possibilities of creating custom items for yourself and your partner are fun. What might a Durast be able to do with metal toys or magnets, etc. What might an Alkemi be able to do with lube, potions, etc. Again, there's the avenue for something like a love potion, but, enh.

What about Etheralki? Squaller and Tidemakers and Inferni and such. I imagine there's lots of fun to be had with warm hands and being able to heat things up, literally. Maybe Squallers can hold their breath for longer periods of time? Can Tidemakers affect bodily fluids?

I'd love to hear your thoughts in comments or messages.

[stromuprisahat]

Zoya is also a victim of circumstances though. Her childhood was atrocious.

Do you mean the retcon sobstory to make us like her with no effort on her part?

Sure it is. Especially since it had no impact on her.

Why isn't child marriage ever mentioned again?

Why does she mock other unlucky poor girls?

Why does she help abolish Grisha draft, when it literally saved her life?

The only thing that comes from addition of that story is that suddenly can Zoya shapeshift into Suli, and her aunt is shown as an idiot, who helped to shape her view on heroism.

[zoyalaisobachka]

I know they're not yet at the confession stage but still 😄

“Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.”

Finally! I got around to use it! Again, thank you so much for sending me the prompt :D

[samsknives]

king of my heart is so zoyalai coded