#feliks brain rot

[eszpeonn]

Guess who will have to re-write their assignment because they started doodling on it without knowing 😻. Anyway look at my son.

[wesper-ao3feed]

Hardest of Hearts

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Ct9EsZR by claudiarya Almost two years after Zoya's coronation, the Queen decides it is time to start and continue the search for the Heart of Sankt Feliks. But when news of insurrection are starting to circulate, it is up to the gang all reunited at the Grand Palace to choose their next move. For some the path in front of them easier to see compared to others...   Or my excuse to put all my favorite peeps into one setting and letting my brain rot for 25 k or more. Words: 5882, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English Fandoms: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Multi Characters: Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya Nazyalensky, Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker, Nina Zenik, Hanne Brum | Ilya Grimjer, Wylan Van Eck, Jesper Fahey, Genya Safin, Tamar Kir-Bataar, Tolya Yul-Bataar Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov & Zoya Nazyalensky, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker & Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik/Ilya Grimjer, Inej Ghafa & Nina Zenik, Jesper Fahey & Inej Ghafa, Inej Ghafa & Zoya Nazyalensky, Kaz Brekker & Nikolai Lantsov Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Book 2: Rule of Wolves, The Search for The Heart, War Hits Ravka, again., This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is Ravka, Masquerade Ball, We don't talk about Bruno (Bruno being our feelings), Angst, Fluff and Angst, Two Clowns Talking Feelings, Inej and Zoya being besties cause I love them, Nikolai and Kaz being bastards together, Friendship, Angst with a Happy Ending, This is me venting for 25 k and more read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Ct9EsZR

[jalshristovski]

If you don’t have Feliks brain rot on Independence Day what r u even doing

Wishing all my Polish brothers and sisters a peaceful Independence Day! ❤️🎉❤️

[kralmajales]

I have just had the most horrifying realization about my sense of style. I thought my style was so good and eclectic and fun and varied and interesting and unique and full of vests and hats and scarves and it’s so great how I switch between new romantic inspired and 70s inspired . Bro. I just dress like Ryan Ross. This is humiliating.

[sininensalo-a]

Three Octaves.

There are some people you would do anything for. @konigreich / @ezusthiid

The piano keys pressed by gentle fingers of a Polish man soon let a melancholic tune vibrate and embrace the gathered audience, much broader than Jaakko had imagined it to be. Every fiber of his anxious body demanded an explanation for this reckless decision, they wanted to understand why the Finn who feared eye contact agreed to public singing. He couldn’t withdraw now, no, for that would be a shame more immense than the performance itself, but he knew damn well he wanted to do that more than anything in this world. There was not enough alcohol running through his veins, too few to chew through the cage of his petrified brain. In a brief second of sheer panic, it began mixing up the lyrics of the only two songs he had planned to perform, and English pronunciation not being his strongest suit only added insult to the injury. Fortunately, he was given some extra time due to the long intro, as if Feliks wanted to show off, but soon it was time to begin. His own self-consciousness had yet again done him dirty, and in a desperate attempt at reducing stress, Jaakko closed his eyes as he sang the first verses.

I've heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord but you don't really care for music, do you?

Three octaves. Many a singer would kill for a range his voice had, and here he was, letting it rot in his throat, not talking, not singing, greedily keeping this treasure to himself. Would it have been different if his persistent self-loathing hadn’t throttled him every waking hour? It was difficult to tell. Jaakko enjoyed singing, adored playing the kantele stolen from him by fate, but as soon as there was another pair of ears listening, his courage would crumble like a house of cards, so carefully built and yet so fragile.

She tied you to her kitchen chair, she broke your throne, she cut your hair, and from your lips, she drew the Hallelujah ...

It was beyond him to dare peek at the people, at all that judgemental jury he personally asked for. The rows of the newlyweds’ guests, the plethora of saints observing him carefully from every nave like predator birds perched on the walls and cornices. His own voice echoed in an acoustically perfect place to perform a song like this, it banged against his chest, it ripped his heart out in both fright and excitement. It must have been the first time since ages that he performed in a church. The parish choir career was long gone, after all. The redness of the walls fit the gold framing it, and Jaakko’s face adapted quickly, like a chameleon, with his face flushed burning red and with blond hair encircling it. As he sings, he tries, oh God be his witness in his very own house, he tries. It takes a superhuman effort for him to look up, even if briefly, to scan the present faces in search of the one he wishes to sing the following words for.

Baby, I've been here before I've seen this room, I've walked this floor, you know, I used to live alone before I knew you ...

Oh, the challenging part ensued. The release to a built-up tension came in the form of a tempest, verbal thunderstorm coming from the top of the Finnish lungs as if Jaakko’s second nature, the repressed and unbridled one, the primal and long forgotten, wanted out and to be seen by everyone. Catching breath is difficult, but the relief assumed the shape a soft chorus, the imagery of the demon defeated, the devil caged, the dragon slain by Saint George.

Hallelujah, hallelujah Hallelujah, hallelujah ...