#niks knacks

[nikskylix]

hear me out. jesus/judas and seavbo parallels.

jesus and evbo represent humanity (love and passion/spirit respectively), while judas and seawatt one of the seven deadly sins (greed and wrath respectively) . judas committing suicide out of remorse (but not repentance) after betraying jesus vs "for what it's worth, i was telling the truth when i said i enjoyed working with you" being seawatt's final words instead of regret/remorse for his actions. the death of jesus of nazarath and resurrection/rebirth into the son of god, evbo jumping into the void of his own accord and being reborn (metaphorically) as the parkour god. hear me out.

[nikskylix]

effervescent sunday sounds like an evangelical cult

[churchofsatannews]

The Metro #739

This week on The Metro, Rev. Jeff Ivins brings the following bands to your ear for you enjoyment: Gleaming Spires, Nik Kershaw, Missing Persons, Sparks & Jane Wiedlin, Untouchables, The Fixx, The Replacements, XTC, The Vapors, 1927, UB40, The Knack, Quarterflash, and finishing up with Peter Gabriel. Stream The Metro #739. Download The Metro #739.

[duachai]

HANA, DUL, SET : 001 - PARK SUNGHOON

PAIRING : PARK SUNGHOON X MALE READER

SYNOPSIS : After a match and some banter, a party becomes the setting for a darker plot against M/n, fueled by jealousy from his own team. Sunghoon, Enha's captain, initially reluctant, steps in to protect M/n from a dangerous situation, leading to an unexpected moment of connection between the two amidst the rivalry.

CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : Let me know what you guys think of this chapter! Have a good day loves 🥺❤

LINKS : Book Link | Wattpad | Kofi

The bus stop was a battleground for the Enha and Fifty-forty volleyball teams, though it seemed the conflict was more about claiming over the street than any real animosity. The two schools, only a short distance apart, could have easily shared the cramped space and the same bus, but instead, they faced off across the street, each side glaring at the other.

On one side stood the Enha students in their black and red uniforms; on the other, the Fifty-forty students in their bright yellow and white. In the middle of this colorful divide, two students sat close together on the sidewalk, a contrast to the tension around them. Kim Sunoo, in his Enha black, leaned his head on Shin M/n's shoulder, who wore the Fifty-forty yellow.

They were the bestfriends despite their schools' rivalry, and of course, everyone hated that. Always going out, studying together, and even leaving matches together after the Fifty-forty team absolutely decimates the Enhas. Sunoo didn't seem to care though. He claims to just be playing for fun but everyone knows he only joined so he could see M/n sweaty up close.

Sunoo was the Enha team's middle blocker, and had a knack for making the least glamorous position look effortless. His sister, however, was not a fan of his mingling with the Fifty-forty crowd, especially after the last night's game.

"Yah, Kim Sunoo!" His sister's voice cut through the tension. Sunoo lifted his head with a start, and M/n's eyes flashed with a brief, he swore he saw a flash of disgust in her coffee-brown eyes.

Turning to M/n with an apologetic pout, Sunoo said, "Sorry, she's got this thing about us hanging around Fifty-forty after... well, last night."

M/n chuckled, placing a comforting hand on Sunoo's thigh. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you tonight at the party."

With a reassuring smile, Sunoo headed towards his sister, who quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him away. M/n dusted off his slacks, exchanging a grin with Wonbin, who had approached.

"I don't get why you hang out with him. Are you pinning him or something?" Wonbin asked, curiosity piqued.

M/n shook his head, a playful smile on his lips. "Oh no, Wonbin. My pin is already stuck deep into someone else." He nodded toward Park Sunghoon, who stood across the street, glaring back with a brooding expression

🏐

The bus ride to the schools was chaotic. Some students had to push up together in the seats and there was endless bickering. One of these days a full blown out brawl is going to happen.

Sunghoon, perched atop a cafeteria table, stared at his phone, figuring out the best way he could tell his teammate they were no longer a team.

caphoon.

We need to have a serious convo. Meeting in 5

noonoo.

Be there soon!

heeso.

Gimme 10, gotta do something first

caphoon.

This is important

heeso.

I get that but I can't be there right this moment, Sung

caphoon.

Wth is more important?

j.

def just saw him and Jake walk in the bathroom together lol

nik.

yucky

New notification from munchsshin

Sunghoon scoffed out loud. What was M/n doing texting him? Plotting? Probably. No matter how disgusted Sunghoon felt even just having M/n's name atop his home screen, he pressed the notification anyways.

munchsshin

What are you doing tonight?

caphoon

Wrong number, jerk

Sunghoon thought that maybe M/n meant to send that to one of his bros. There's no way he'd ask him that.

munchsshin

Aww, I like it when you're mad at me

And not wrong number

caphoon.

When I have I ever not been?

munchsshin

Exactly

Anyways

Sunoo was meant to give you guys the flyer for tonight, but he left it with me

caphoon

Flyer?

munchsshin

Yeah

The mixer?

caphoon

Wth mixer?

munchsshin

You don't have to be embarrassed

Fifty-forty is here to help with anything you need

.... Anything

caphoon

We don't need your help, thanks

munchsshin

This says you do

New notification from Instagram

New post from fiftyfortyvolleyball

♡ 37.9k 💬 349 ➤ 20

fiftyfortyvollyball Help us welcome our 7 newest members of the Fifty-Forty volleyball club. Jungwon, Jay, Heesung, Jake, Sunoo, Niki, and their captain Sunghoon. We will throw a mixer for Enha and Fifty-Forty students at the sports hall in the event house at 6 PM tonight!

View all comments

"Fuck," Sunghoon groaned.

🏐

Sunghoon shuffled his foot over a rock, his cherry-colored lips pressed into a pout. He'd been standing outside the event house for a few minutes now, mentally bracing himself.

Parties weren't his scene, especially not a Fifty-Forty party. He'd heard about these events: the PTA's presence for the first hour, then their departure to lounge on graham crackers and pizza. Twenty minutes later, the real party began.

That's when the booze flowed, drugs made their rounds, and girls were whisked away upstairs by guys who wanted to hump on the gross, deteriorating couches.

Sunghoon wanted nothing to do with any of that, but he'd promised his team he'd do whatever it took to keep them together. So, he swallowed his discomfort and decided to brave it for the Enha team tonight.

He kicked his "purity rock" aside and approached the event house doors, where a few people lounged on the banister. Taking a deep breath—one, two, three—he walked inside.

The moment he entered, his senses were overwhelmed. The air was thick with the stench of cologne and the sound of pop music marred by bleeped-out curse words. With every step, someone shouted his name or patted him on the back.

Stay cool, stay cool, he chanted in his head, forcing himself to relax as he responded with nods and brief greetings.

Navigating through the crowd, he made his way to the main ballroom, scanning for someone who wouldn't demand more than a quick hello. Then he saw him: Shin M/n, back up to the wall as he jutted out in laughter.

He was talking to two Enha students—Heesung and Jake, the team's outside hitter and setter, respectively. They were also the only openly gay couple in the sports department, and they didn't shy away from flaunting it.

Heesung had his arm around Jake's waist, while Jake rested his head on Heesung's chest. They seemed to be in their own world, oblivious to the chaos around them.

"Hey," Sunghoon greeted as he approached. The two turned, and Jake's smile was blinding.

"Oh, look at the captain showing up to a party," Heesung said cheerfully, playfully nudging Sunghoon's arm.

"Knock it off," Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

Heesung's grin remained. "I'm proud of you," he teased.

"Oh, it's the big bad Park Sunghoon," M/n's voice cut through, and Sunghoon recognized him immediately. He suppressed a scowl as he turned to see M/n standing next to him, holding a red Dixie cup filled with something stronger than just Minute Maid.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. "Are you drunk?"

"He's been trashed ever since we found him in the hallway," Jake said, frowning. Jake's frown was rare, so it was clear this was serious.

"Aww, don't say that," M/n whined as if Jake's concern was a secret.

Sunghoon's frown deepened. "What do you mean, 'found him' in the hallway?"

Heesung's voice took on a somber tone. "We found him upstairs, stumbling and mumbling. We're not sure exactly what he was saying, but he's clearly wasted."

Sunghoon's eyebrows knitted together. M/n was usually so composed. "How much has he had?"

Heesung shrugged. "He's downed, like, four of those things over there."

"Five!" M/n interrupted loudly.

Sunghoon studied M/n, trying to gauge his state. He'd never seen him out of it like this before.

"We thought we should stay with him before he does something stupid," Jake said. Heesung nodded, his concern evident.

Sunghoon glanced at the nearby Fifty-Forty group. "Where's his team? They wouldn't just let him get this drunk."

"They're over there," Heesung said, pointing to the Fifty-Forty students by the bar. "But they're the ones giving him the drinks."

"What? Intentionally?"

Jake and Heesung both nodded. "We tried asking, but they kept dodging. Just saying, 'He's a big boy. He can handle it.'"

Sunghoon's mind raced. Fifty-Forty was notorious for their partying, but this level of intoxication was unusual for M/n.

"Hey, do you think—" Heesung began, his eyes fixed on the Fifty-Forty students, who seemed to be watching M/n. Sunghoon followed his gaze. The Fifty-Forty students were indeed watching them. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.

"Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?" Heesung's tone was off, suggesting something was bothering him. Sunghoon nodded, leading him to a quieter corner as he left M/n to Jake. As they walked away, he could feel the weight of the Fifty-Forty students' stares on them.

In the secluded corner, Heesung's usual carefree demeanor had vanished, replaced by a deep, concerned frown. His eyes were grave, and the tension in the air was palpable.

"Okay, what's going on?" Sunghoon asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned in closer.

"They're plotting against him, Sunghoon. Fifty-Forty hates Shin M/n," Heesung said, his tone heavy with urgency.

Sunghoon's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"He's the son of the team's coach," Heesung explained. "Coach Shin is M/n's father."

"Coach Shin?" Sunghoon asked in disbelief, struggling to process the information.

Heesung nodded. "Yeah. And they're planning something tonight. They're aiming to take him upstairs."

Sunghoon's shock was evident. "I don't understand. If Coach Shin is his dad, why do his teammates hate him so much?"

Heesung's expression grew more somber. "They think M/n's getting special treatment because of his father. They're jealous and resentful, and I think they feel immense pressure from Coach Shin."

Sunghoon's mind raced, trying to piece together the implications. "So, they plan to do this while he's drunk?"

Heesung hesitated before nodding. "Yes. They want him incapacitated so he can't defend himself."

Sunghoon's anger surged, his fists clenching tightly in a protective reflex. He felt a burning need to act.

"This isn't right, we can't sit here and watch. Let's try... plan XO."

Heesung's eyes widened slightly. "Plan XO? Are you sure?"

Sunghoon's resolve hardened. "I may not like him, but I can't sit and watch him be roofied like this."

Plan XO was an evacuation plan the Enha team had devised back in their freshman year. Despite its ridiculous name, it was a well-thought-out escape strategy involving a diversion, a tactical conflict, and a smooth exit. Now, it seemed like the only way to protect M/n from the dangerous situation brewing around them.

Sunghoon and Heesung quickly made their way back to the main room, where Sunghoon's mind was racing through the steps of Plan XO. He spotted Jake and signaled him to follow. Jake's eyes were wide with understanding as he fell in step behind Sunghoon and Heesung.

"We need to get M/n out of here," Sunghoon said urgently. "Jake, you and Heesung create a distraction. I'll handle M/n."

Jake nodded. "Got it."

As Jake and Heesung began to stir up a commotion by getting onto some tables and expressing their undying love for each other, Sunghoon turned his focus back to M/n, who was still leaning against the wall with a bemused look. Sunghoon approached him, trying to keep his voice calm and reassuring.

"M/n, we need to get you out of here. You're not safe."

M/n blinked, clearly confused. "Why? What's happening?"

"No time to explain," Sunghoon said, grabbing M/n's arm gently but firmly. "Just trust me."

He guided M/n through the crowd, carefully avoiding the gaze of the Fifty-Forty students who were now fully engaged in the distraction Jake and Heesung had orchestrated. They weaved through the crowd, and Sunghoon's heart pounded with both fear and determination.

Finally, they reached the back door, which led to a dimly lit alley behind the event house. Sunghoon pushed it open and ushered M/n outside. The cool night air was a sharp contrast to the stifling heat of the party inside.

M/n leaned against the wall, swaying slightly. "I don't understand. Why are we outside?"

Sunghoon looked around to ensure they weren't being followed. Satisfied, he turned back to M/n. "You were in danger. I don't know the full details, but it's clear your teammates were planning something tonight."

M/n's eyes softened with gratitude. "Thank you for getting me out. I knew...something was wrong."

Sunghoon took a deep breath, his own anxiety slowly ebbing away. "It's not safe to stay here. We should get you somewhere secure."

M/n nodded, but there was a lingering sadness in his eyes. "I don't know what to say. This is all so overwhelming."

Sunghoon's gaze softened as he stepped closer. He reached out, gently placing his hands on M/n's shoulders. "You don't have to say anything. Just know that you're safe."

For a moment, their eyes locked, and Sunghoon saw a flicker of something in M/n's gaze—a mixture of relief and vulnerability. Without thinking, he gently pulled M/n into a hug. M/n tensed for a second, then relaxed, resting his head on Sunghoon's shoulder.

They stood there in the quiet alley, surrounded by the faint sounds of the distant party and the gentle hum of the city. Sunghoon could feel M/n's heartbeat against his chest, and he realized just how much this moment meant to both of them.

When they finally pulled away, M/n looked up at Sunghoon with a small, grateful smile. "I didn't expect that..."

Sunghoon's heart skipped a beat. "Neither did I. But it was nice... I guess."

They shared a moment of silence, just looking at each other. It was as if the noise and chaos of the party had faded away, leaving them in a cocoon of their own.

It was safe. For now.

[nikskylix]

hi, i wrote a silly little seavbo fic with a sprinkle of evbo as icarus imagery (and seawatt being the ocean that catches him). give it a read if you're interested :) <3

[nikskylix]

@wimdywhimsy you core

oooh cybercore …. or like robots n stuff …..

[◎口◎''] ??? CYB3RCORE GR4PH1CS 🌐

divider here! X

[seyvia]

Nikolas sets off to focus on his inner peace following his elimination. Three weeks have passed since the event, and Nik is completely unaware that today is the airing of his elimination episode. His phone is suddenly overflowing with sympathy and messages of support, and Nafisa? He can easily find every detail about her online. However, instead of being a virtual fan, he rather take it a step further and get to know her face to face! He's coming back to the dating scene with a fresh perspective and sharper skills. And ever the optimistic he noticed they have a lot in common, both enjoy yoga, mornings, and if she's self-absorbed, then she wouldn't mind his nosiness right? ( ^ω^ )

Is Nikolas Nafisa's knight in natural linens? Or will this dueling interest yogi, face rejection once more? Find out at @flocy-sims Nestled with Nafisa!

More below:

Name: Nicholas Knight. Age 28 (he-him)

Aspiration: Inner peace. Traits: Goofball, Vegetarian, Nosey.

Likes: coffee, green, brown, mischief, gossip, wellness, mixology, guitar, boho fashion, deep conversations, sunrises and bike rides. Her hair, like that's a goddesses hair!💕(going to like calling her goddess/angel)

Dislikes: eating meat, "boring sims"(small talk), sleeping in, arguing, violin. the nick name Nik-knack-patty-whack...

Extra: Nik completed the master of mischief asp at 21. currently living in a cute blue trailer he got half priced. He believes scarves are an extremely underrated accessory. He grew up in Windenburg. He got a really bad haircut as a kid and has been styling his own hair eversince. His parents resent him because he "wasted all his potential". Grew up in a well-to-do family where they didn't like it if you exploded the toilets, not even a little!

let me know if you want more info, hope yuh like him💕 (^///^)

I CAN'T BELIEVE I Robbed y’all by not showing Nickolas's hair down before!!! My deepest apologies! ❤️┗( T﹏T )┛

[daenysthedreamer101]

Youngest Original ~ TVDU

Mikaelson!OC headcanons

Klaus's relationship with Kassandra

TVD masterlist

Ok, these two. They have a complicated relationship, but aren't all of Klaus's relationships like that?

When Kassie was little she would braid Klaus's golden curls and she would make flower crowns for him

She could sense that there was bad blood between him and their father

She knew their father hated Nik so she always made sure to give him extra love

Her choice and desire for peace didn't sit right with Klaus who was always offended when she didn't choose his side.

She would explain to him that there's no point in fighting internally and that they have to be strong and united together. Her peaceful nature often clashed with Klaus's fiery desire for revenge and violence.

Klaus would view Kassandra as a baby and someone who could potentially hinder his plans.

He would, like the rest of his siblings, be extremely protective of her. He has a lot of enemies and knows that they would exploit and abuse his love for Kassandra.

He would try to hide her whenever he could, not wanting others to know of her existence. He would (for a long time) view her as weak and a liability.

And her fondness and apparent preference for Elijah over him would make him jealous and envious for her attention.

He loved her, yes, more so than his other siblings, but was still wary of her often childish innocence and optimism. Her positive outlook on the world and her insistence on helping humans annoyed him to no end.

"Humans are nothing but food to us, not our friends" He often told her. She would insist that they were also humans once, but all her arguments would fall on deaf ears.

Over the centuries, Klaus had daggered most of his siblings at least a couple of times.

Elijah and Kassandra were a different story.

Klaus kept Elijah around since he viewed him as useful and someone who was always there to clean up his messes.

Kassandra on the other hand was kept around purely to keep Klaus company and to entertain him.

His youngest sister always had a knack for music and singing. She would often sing to him to try and pacify him, and, even though he would never admit it, it worked.

She had a calming effect on him and was able to tame him in a way no one else could.

Klaus and she often argue - she doesn't appreciate how he tends to dismiss her opinions and ideas, and she doesn't like how he daggers their other siblings.

They share a love for the finer things in life

They love touring art galleries, opera houses, and theatres

She had definitely been his muse and he has painted her several times throughout the centuries

She herself loves art but prefers pencil drawings and water baised painting

She never got the hang on oil painting like Klaus did

Extreme baby sister privileges!

Klaus has killed people for looking at him the wrong way, but Kassie calls him out on his bs, and leaves with out a scratch

It seems like she's the only person on the planet (besides Elijah) who can calm him down and tame his inner wolf

She never loved him any less because of the fact that he was her half brother

She never cared that he was a werewolf, on the contrary, was a staunch supporter of him breaking the curse in 1492

She loves poking his dimples. That's her go to way to make him smile

And it always works

"Come on! Smile! It would do you wonders if you let yourself be happy for once!" She said while poking his cheek

*he rolls his eyes and tries to keep a straight face*

"You have a beautiful smile. The world would be a better place if you smiled more"

[sednonamoris]

violence and timing

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: Price is captured by Makarov’s men. It’s difficult to grapple with your feelings for him while mounting a rescue operation - thankfully you learned from the best.

Warnings: Torture + waterboarding (not intensively detailed), canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, strong language, not really a warning but dual POV

Word count: 2,526

A/N: Takes place after call off the dogs (and come home to me) and let me love the lonely out of you, but you don’t have to have read either for this to make sense!! You can also find this story on AO3

—

Price has always had a knack for knowing things he shouldn’t.

When he was a little boy he knew something in their house scared his mother despite the brave face she put on. As a young man he knew there was an ugly price to pay to keep the world right despite what everyone said on the news. Right now, he knows he’s being held underground despite his captors’ best efforts to disorient him. Knows there’s one light source in this room despite the bag over his head. Knows his team will come for him despite their inevitable orders not to. 

No one fights alone, he can hear their voices chorus.

But he is alone, behind enemy lines and waiting for the creak of rusty hinges to signal the next round of torture. It’s been mostly waterboarding, so far - nothing creative. His stoic silences and rasped insults have been met with poorly concealed impatience and base violence. Apparently Makarov never bothered to tell his men that you can’t break someone who’s already broken; They’ll get nothing from him. Bloody amateurs.

If anything, he’s more occupied with the frustration that these people managed to get the drop on him at all. He could’ve kicked himself the second he realized exactly how many of them were swarming his overwatch position, but at least it was him and not his team. Not Ghost, who’s been through enough hardship already. Not Gaz, so young and burning so bright. Not Soap, with enough heart for all of them and then some. Not Hound, who—

Not Hound. 

Anyone but Hound. 

He lets himself wonder, distantly, wistfully, if he’ll ever get to see that fierce face he’s grown to love so much again. Then the door screams open. Heavy footsteps approach. His captors laugh and exchange cruel jabs in Russian. A faint, grim smile twists his lips before they pull the hood off. 

—

These have been the worst seventy-two hours of your life. Too long for a hostage, but still not enough time to separate you from seeing Price brutalized by Makarov’s men, from hearing the sickening crunch as his audio cut out over comms, from watching helplessly while they carried him away from you.

“Hound, get everyone out of--!” plays in your head on a loop. The desperation, the fear, the crack in his voice as he shouted those words as loud as his wartorn lungs could. You nearly took Ghost’s head off for holding you back upon hearing them. 

His last words.

You hope to God they’re not his last words. Setting your jaw, you promise yourself that they won’t be. 

“You doing alright, mate?” Gaz asks. His voice is so much softer than usual. Serious. 

“No.” The admission burns on your tongue. “We need to move fast if we don’t want to be bringing home a bleedin’ body bag.” 

He clasps a warm hand to your shoulder and squeezes. “Cap’s tough. We’ll get him back in one piece.” 

You offer a nod, but can’t bring yourself to say anything more. Pulling anything out of you has been like pulling teeth since he was taken. 

After explaining the bare bones of the situation, Nik agreed to pilot you all out to where Price is being held - some abandoned gulag in The-Middle-of-Fucking-Nowhere, Russia. Anything for a friend, Tserber, he’d said over the phone, and you could have cried in relief. The helo ride has been uncharacteristically quiet. Even Soap struggles to lighten the mood. 

The Russian landscape passes beneath you, snow-capped forests and wide open tundra in turn. You find yourself wondering if he’s cold, of all things. Trapped in some tiny cell, no food or water, certainly nothing to ward off the subzero temperatures of an unheated, underground facility.

Fuck.

You both knew that being together would cause more problems than it solved, at the end of the day, but you’ve never taken a moment to consider how strange your circumstances truly are until now. Most people worry about their partners driving in slippery conditions getting back from the grocery store - something dangerous, sure, but also achingly mundane. Here you are worried about yours overnighting as a hostage in an off-the-grid prison facility. 

Nik sets down three klicks out, give or take. Hoofing it to Price will be the easy part. You just have to hope he can make the trek back. There’s a small comfort in knowing that any one of you would rather carry him the whole way than leave him behind. 

Nik makes a move to grab a gun but you stop him with a shake of your head. “We need you here on stand-by so we can take off straight away. I’ll radio you the moment we have him.”

His eyes soften a fraction at the look on your face. “Good luck, my friend.”

“Spasibo,” you offer a grim smile, then turn to face the rest of your team. Their somber faces are turned to you, waiting. “We’ve got a hike ahead of us, lads, and a load of cunts waiting to get their brains blown out. Silencers on every gun, knives when you can - let’s keep this quiet as long as possible. When we breach I want radio silence ‘til someone grabs Price.”

“Hound and I will go for the Captain,” Ghost adds. “Johnny, Gaz, you two keep the exit clear. Anything goes wrong, you bail and head back to Nikolai. Hound and I will sort out alternative exfil if needed. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Rog’,” they chorus. They won’t bail, you know, or at the very least they’ll put up a fight, but they both know better than to argue that right now.

You nod gratefully towards them all before heading out. It’s a long, cold journey ahead and you need to haul ass if you’re going to get in and out before nightfall.

—

“Tell us what you know!” The demand is punctuated with a heavy blow across his face.

Price bares his teeth through a mouth full of blood. “Fuck you.”

“Let me say again,” his captor leans down close to his face with violence on his breath. “You will tell us what you know, SAS. It might be now, it might be later, but I will get it out of you.”

He doesn’t speak another word, but the unmasked hatred written across his face says everything.

—

It’s easy for you and Ghost to slip into a deadly rhythm after working together so long. Crouch, sneak, crunch; slow, fast, slice. His throwing knives whisper death into the cracked concrete halls. Your longer close-combat ones sing an old, bloody song in tandem when you sink them into enemy soldiers - each just one more obstacle between you and Price. You let them bite into the soft flesh between armor plating, right at the junction where their neck meets their shoulder, and think about the way John kisses you there in soft morning light, his whiskers ticklish, his sleepy smile pressed into your skin. 

The prison is in bad shape. Metal bars on cramped cells are composed more of rust than iron, flaking off in a toxic shade of orange-brown. The floor is sturdy concrete but even it has seen better days. Bloodstains. Miscellaneous debris. Most of it looks old, at least a decade just sitting and wasting. There are newer scuff marks in the dust, fresher blood that leads you down, down, and further down the echoing halls. You try not to think about the struggle Price must have put up. Or worse, if he hadn’t put one up at all - the drag of his unconscious body behind masked men; faceless, nameless thugs working to further Makarov’s sick machinations. 

“We should have found him already,” you mutter.

“Easy, Hound. Can’t be far now.” Simon’s reassurance is about as kind as it gets from him, especially in the field. Your frayed nerves must be getting to him. 

It’s reasonable, though, to be so worried. At least to your mind; You should have encountered more resistance. A handful of soldiers are hardly the force you’d expected to reckon with, and the only other place they might be is wherever Price is, doing all manner of terrible things to get information out of him that you know he’ll never give up. Not for anything. 

Then you find the basement staircase.

You creep down silent as the grave. When you tuck yourselves into cover, scant though it is, each breath is kept deep and quiet so the guards ahead don’t hear.

Simon signals the plan of attack, but so close to the objective - to Price - it’s all peripheral. Distantly, you’re aware of your body lurching forward at his mark, but over the roar in your ears you can hear no sound and past the tunnel of your vision you see only red. 

—

Price chokes and gasps for breath. He takes his mind far, far away from the water pouring over his face. Lists through rifle specs like a soldier, then sheep like a child. 

He wants it to stop.

He knows it won’t. 

Then something bursts through the door with all the force of a hurricane and it does.

—

“Drop your fucking weapons!”

“Put your bloody hands up, now!”

You hit them so hard and so fast that not one has a chance to reach for his weapon. The few that were holding them already either obey your shouted commands on instinct or are so cowed by disbelief they forget what’s in their hands before you have them dead on the ground. 

“Clear,” Simon sounds relieved when the last one drops. 

Amidst the carnage, Price sits tied to a metal folding chair. It’s directly beneath a single, swinging lightbulb that emits a frantic and fluttering fluorescence. His hands and feet are bound, too-tight and raw, and even in bad lighting you can see his face is beat to a bloody pulp. It’s all you have time to register before you fly forward to cut the bonds and cradle his face in your hands. 

Blue eyes blink through the water and the blood and the confusion that clumps his eyelashes to drink in your features with pain and wonderment. 

“Hound,” he rasps. “How—?”

“Violence and timing.” Your grin is a savage punctuation of the statement, too-wide and speckled with his captors’ blood. “Now let’s get you out of here.”

—

Past his initial rescue his mind is lost to a fog of pain, but even through that Price remembers the musicality of your voice cussing out the entire hospital staff for not being ready for him. He tries to laugh but it only comes out a painful wheeze. 

—

You hate hospitals almost as much as hospitals hate you. The staff all either shrink away or glare when they see you on your way to monopolize Price’s visiting hours each day. If they just did their jobs maybe you wouldn’t have to fight with them so often, but there’s always something.

His room is too cold. Blankets too few. It’s cramped. Dark. Don’t they know he just came from a place like that? And how would they like to wake up to a dark, miserable little room, huh? And would it kill them to open the blinds and let some fucking sunlight in, little that there is in bleedin’ England? And Jesus, do you have to do everything around here? 

You’ve brought flowers, this time.

Yellow daffodils you’re sure the staff will neglect on his bedside table until they’re sad and wilting, but the splash of colour ought to do him some good. You hope it does him some good.

Three light knocks on the door announce your entrance. There’s a nurse checking his vitals whose eyes widen upon realizing who you are. He scurries away as quickly as he can, and you snort a derisive laugh after him.

“You’re a bloody menace,” Price says with enough fondness in his voice you could burst. John, now that it’s just the two of you. “Do you know the staff draw straws when you’re here?” 

“You say that like you’re not an awful patient,” you tease. It’s half-hearted at best, and even on the equivalent of horse tranquilizers you know he notices.

You busy your hands arranging his flowers in a clear plastic vase, but your eyes cut over to assess his condition today. His eyes are just as clear and sharp as ever, and the swelling on his face has gone down. The cracked ribs hurt like a bitch, you know from experience, but they don’t stop him from sitting up straighter every time you walk through the door. He had been unconscious for four days after his rescue and still all you can think is how much worse everything could have been. How cracked ribs and a broken nose and a fractured eye socket and every carefully catalogued cut and bruise could have been worse.

How he might not have come home at all. 

“You’re staring.”

Your eyes quickly dart back down to the flowers. Flower arranging is at the bottom of your list of skills, but they’re about as bright and cheerful as you could hope, if a little over-cut and crooked in places.

As you turn to set them gently at his bedside he heaves a sigh, heavy between you.

“Now you won’t look at me.” He sounds tired. There’s a twinge of pain at the end of each syllable, but worse than that he sounds like he’s trying so hard to be careful with you. Like you’re the fragile one right now. “What’s wrong, love?”

You scoff past the sudden lump in your throat and finally meet the depths of those blue, blue eyes. “Nothing. I’m being silly.”

“I doubt that very much.” His face creases, warm and a little sad. 

“Fine,” you say. You seat yourself on the edge of his bed and grasp his warm, calloused hand in yours. Stroking a reverent thumb along his knuckles gives you a measure of courage. “I love you.”

He sucks a sharp breath in. 

“I don’t expect you to say it back - you know I won’t ever ask for anything you can’t give - but fuck me, John, when they took you all I could think about was how much I love you and that I hadn’t told you and that you might die and not know.” You dare a glace up at his face with a sheepish smile made of shards of glass. “So, now you know. Don’t go dying on me about it, please and thanks.”

The glacial blue of his eyes warms to Mediterranean Sea, and the smile he gives you damn near breaks your heart. “Darling,” he says, “for the life of me I’ll never know what I did to deserve it, but you’re the kind of person a man could live for.”

I love you, too.

He raises his hand, still in yours, to his mouth. His unshaven whiskers tickle your skin. The kiss he presses to the inside of your wrist is reverent and warm, full of everything he’s never said and is still scared to say out loud. 

I love you, too.

[trans-elrond]

Nik! Did you watch Rebel Moon? How was it?

Yes hello this is my 4 star review of rebel moon on letterboxd.

But first: a professional, somewhat critical review of rebel moon that engages with the film well, especially regarding anti-colonial themes, and isn't just knee-jerk regurgitated Snyder haterism:

And now more of my thoughts: [edit: Oh No, He Went And Talked For 3 Hours About It, Thanks For Coming To My TedTalk:)

No one has a better knack at putting together a cast list SO ATTRACTIVE TO THE BISEXUALS. read it and weep, boys. (Jena Malone is there too but really just for 1 set piece)

...Jena Malone's one (1) scene set piece features her as an alien spider woman with legitimate grievances against the Empire who now wants to kill kids because all her kids were killed. Like, so valid, girl. Also, did I say Jena Malone as an alien spider-woman? And this is just one scene.

Look, if that pitch doesn't hook you, this film may not be for you, and that's okay, but by GOD my people are the people who hear "Jena Malone alien spider woman" and perk up. I love you, freaks.

The cinematography is ace and always will be under Snyder's direction. music by Tom Holkenborg SLAPS. Costuming and design overall is super super strong. (People on this hellsite are always complaining about inadequate, boring as hell sci-fi design and you get RM and you don't appreciate it for what it is. WAKE UP.)

Costume showcase! Second from the right in this photo showing off those sweet sweet sci-fi costume designs is my beloved non-binary they/them revolutionary Milius. CANONICALLY non-binary, let me add. Imagine SW doing that lmaoooooooooooo D*ve Filoni would fuckin keel over and die

Kora! Our tragic female protagonist of color who's over 40, with a dark edgy sexy background. [KIDNAPPED AS A CHILD!! DEAD FAMILY!!! DEAD LOVER!!!!!!! SHE FAILED TO PROTECT HER WARD FROM ASSASSINATION!!!!! SHE IS THE MOST WANTED WOMAN IN THE UNIVERSE!!]

Bitches on tumblr LOVE taking failmen with sad backstories from media and blorbifying them, but the second it's a woman? please. If this was a man people would be writing the filthiest x reader smut you've seen since Mandalorian S1 came out. If this was a man you'd already have seen 20,000 fan drawings of her with her muscles and tits OUT. God where's my Kora fanart.

I personally have no problems with the plot of this movie (part 1 of 2) being "we must collect warriors to fight the evil empire." That's kinda fantasy story 101 and I still love new, varied interpretations of that plot.

If there's not much interconnecting plot because Kora's just gathering fighters, it's kinda like... that's the point, babes, they'll actually get to it in part 2. We're just at the "forming the team" stage. I revel in that part of a fantasy film and I always want it to be longer, so this film is like catnip to me.

Uh, yeah, this is getting long. More under the cut.

Entertainment professional nitpick time! I've seen someone say RM would be better as a TV show to introduce a new character each episode. And I truly don't think that fixes any of the problems this person has with the film, while introducing way more problems. (Who the fuck would go in on an original concept TV show where each episode introduces a new hero. You could not sell that pitch to a studio, ever, and viewers would instantly check out if they didn't like the introduced character of the week, and the same complaints would be made: it’s just a new character intro blah blah blah. This wouldn’t fix anything! It would very much make it worse!)

Me, like every day, through gritted teeth: that's... not... how... tv... works...

Like be realistic for a hot second with me. Television is not "long movie"—it is a different medium with different rules. Yes, the past decade has blurred many lines between TV and film, but they're still different mediums, and when people blur them ("it's a 10-hour movie!") the results often suck ass, because you either lack episodic structure or you lack feature structure. Snyder is a feature filmmaker who has never worked in TV. Whenever features people jump into TV, it's a whole other learning curve! They're usually terrible at it! You want Snyder to have to learn a new medium? You want him to learn 5/6-act TV structure from scratch? You want him to (horrified gasp) lead a writers room? Those are not his strengths, baby. Let him play in his space opera sandbox.

And I'm not done! You want the casting team to have to deal with the headache of getting feature film actors to star in a TV show? (Pay cuts! Longer commitments! TV production timelines!) You want to do that to me, personally, and fuck up the TV landscape some more by going, "Oh, we can basically just make a Longer Feature Film in TV"? Fuck off with that. TV has different production realities and different basic story structures. A [long] film [with two parts] is still a film, in structure and production practicalities.

Truly, Tumblr media studies brains (derogatory) at it again.

To each their own, but again, I think RM's structure is fun because it gives me more of the goodies (badass, varied character intros) for the price of one (2-hour film.) Like... that's the good stuff, that's often the most exhilarating part of a film for me. And contrary to popular belief, it's not intro to intro without rising tension or stakes. It builds tension as it goes because new facets of resistance against the Motherworld are explored in each character's intro scene. New ways they fight back, new worlds on which they fight back. And a ticking time bomb of the King's Gaze (king's gays lol) catching up.

Here, have a trailer bc Tumblr's mad at me for too much text in one block.

...I like the RM characters. I want to spend time with them and see what other zany shenanigans Snyder will have them do. (Alien bar fights! Taming a space gryphon! Lightsaber battle!) I like the side-quest-y, exploratory, space opera sandbox playground nature. It's fun, and like, again, if you don't perk up at the concept of collecting cool characters like action figures, this film may just not be for you.

To me it's a polycule. Like, the most messed up polycule in the whole galaxy, but it's a polycule.

Speaking of: THE CHARACTERS ROCK. Yeah, we're missing some significant character development because Netflix truncated Snyder's 4-hr, R-rated film into a 2-hr PG-13 version (likely to be able to release the 4-hr cut later, drum up new press, and get more eyeballs on the movie in total in a few months.) That's... not really Snyder's fault [even though he claims he's in on the plan... some part of me thinks it was Netflix's idea and not his. Stinks of studio meddling.] And it's not indicative of the quality of the actual film, which I currently see as more of an abridged version of the R-rated film that's gonna come out and fill up some of these story holes.

If people are judging the film for not being the 4-hour version, and then decide not to see the 4-hour version, that's their call, but it's kinda shitty to act like the 2-hr version is all there is. Like it probably wasn't Snyder's call to do a 2-hr cut! He's said that the 4-hr one is a whole different movie. I betcha the common criticisms (not enough character development, just jumps from character intro to character intro without interconnection, lack of structure) will be helped, if not outright solved, by the longer cut.

I think people are also happy to take a Part 1 of a movie if it's, say, Dune, and the source material has another part, so Part 1 is allowed to be fucking boring, whereas people don't give that kind of allowance to original sci-fi movies, WHICH IS A REASON WE DON'T GET ORIGINAL SCI-FI. If you're painting with as huge and cosmic a palette as space opera Rebel Moon, the 4-8 hours total across the 2 four-hour parts is kinda bare minimum for an epic. So... patience is a virtue? Let part 1 have elements of IT'S KIND OF A PROLOGUE?

What's that saying? If you want the rewards of space opera worldbuilding with an ensemble cast, you must submit to the mortifying ordeal of 2 hours of setup. Geez. Enjoy the wacky exposition or get out of the space opera genre.

Yeah, that leads me to the point of people who don't enjoy space opera are getting mad at RM for fulfilling the promises of the genre. You might truly be happier elsewhere. The whole thing is over-the-top, huge-scale MELODRAMA and I thrive on melodrama. If it's too cheesy for you, don't come to space operas!!!!!!!

On that note, people have said RM is too tropey and too Star Wars-y. But like I said. If you don't love the tropes get out of the genre!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you aren't here for bloodier/hornier Star Wars get out of RM!!!!

Another big idea I would be remiss to skip over. RM is an explicitly, deliberately anti-colonial, anti-imperial text—far, far more so than any other mainstream sci-fi currently being released. Well-intentioned liberals love to tout Star Trek/Star Wars as progressive media but they really hedge and defang all their political commentary, especially in their 21st century franchise form—think the SW sequels/shows straight up woobifying K*lo Ren in realtime and the Trek shows that (while fun!) are really often just nostalgia bait.

RM is pretty fucking radical. Its theme basically is Kill Nazis—or in expanded form, something along the lines of "The empire will eat up everything of value in the universe unless it is met with unified armed resistance built on solidarity."

And just look at RM's casting. We're not colorblind here; we're very color-conscious. (That's a rant for another day, but I've really started to despise colorblind casting for its extremely well-intentioned-liberal "we're all the same" mentality. It just winds up erasing.) Anyway: RM features the explicitly American-English-Afrikaans empire vs. the Algerian Amazigh protagonist, Black freedom fighters, Japanese revolutionary... and like. Snyder's always gonna be into Vikings so obviously we have Space Vikings too, whatever. Look at me, I can criticize Snyder too! The Poor Sad Space Vikings are not the strongest part of the film!

...Anyway of course the empire vs. revolution is absolutely kind of Star Wars-y since RM is highkey Snyder's Star Wars, but it goes so much further than SW dreamed (or, perhaps, nightmared). SW's rebels/resistance continually get defanged because they're kind of foundationally space magic/singular hero's quest deals, and modern SW with the exception of Rogue One/Andor is just politically, socially stupid. In contrast, RM is about forming a coalition, without something like the Force to help you out. I could write an essay on the ways RM starts in the same place Star Wars starts but takes its politics so much more seriously, so much further.

While I'd argue "good politics" and "artistic quality" rarely correlate, RM is explicitly and doggedly a text about the colonial empire that exploits, enslaves, abuses, and seeks to utterly control marginalized people groups in its quest for domination—and god, I would LOVE to see a resurgence in very fanged, very angry political sci-fi.

One more aside. Snyder has been rightfully criticized for his earlier works basking in fascist-adjacent, hypermasculine aesthetics; 300 is notably super duper racist in how it depicts savage/monstrous Persians vs. Beautifully Good White Spartans Defending Their Culture. (more on "300 Bad" stored up in my brain if anyone wants THAT rant.) To Snyder's credit, none of his films since 300 have really done that—parts of Batman v Superman and his cut of Justice League purposefully poke fun at it. The hypermasculinity is kinda still there, but it's subsumed in the service of melodrama and mythic-flavored cinema, and it's kinda a staple of the action genre anyway, and if you're gonna criticize Snyder without criticizing EVERY ACTION MOVIE EVER, that's just more regurgitated Snyder haterism.

No one is doing mythic action like Snyder these days. No one has the balls and the command of melodrama & operatic visuals. And it comes clearly from Snyder's background in art & art history because all his shots are jam-packed with symbolism and meaning and allusion. So criticize the film for its weaknesses if you like but geez, if I see another post railing about the lack of CRAFT in RM, I will start biting. ALMOST NO BLOCKBUSTER HAS THIS LEVEL OF CRAFT. It's okay that you don't understand visual storytelling, babygirl, but please don't accuse Snyder of lacking craft.

Sorry, you've triggered Cinema Defense Mechanisms in me, I'm gonna have to sit down for a while after this.

I have more takes. Takes hot enough to fuel the King's Gaze (king's gays lol.) But I'll end with a funny observation: I transed my gender (cheers, shouts, hoorays) just about the time I was getting ready to watch Rebel Moon, and in one shocking, epiphanic moment I turned to my partner and went "Of COURSE I'm a man. I like Zack Snyder." So........... do with that what you will.

[chickensarentcheap]

Bed time sneak peak :)

The chapter is finished, but not polished. But here is a bit:

@tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @themaradwrites @thebejeweledwatercat @munstysmind @mrsmungus @asirensrage @residentdormouse @karimac @kmc1989 @alisbackalleybbq @theesirenteller @ninjasawakenedmystar

“It was a beautiful day.”

Tyler arches a quizzical brow.

“When Millie was born.  It was sunny and cool, and the leaves were just starting to change.”

“Seems kinda fitting. That she came along when she did.  It was always her mum’s favourite season; Esme used to go on and on about fall in New York City. About how she’d always take walks in Central Park; she loved seeing all the different colours and hearing the leaves crunching under her feet and how the air actually seemed fresh for a change. She made it sound incredible. Beautiful.”

“She has a knack of seeing things differently than we do.  She holds onto so much trust and wonder; she sees the beauty in everything. And everyone. She could watch the same sunset a million times and find a million different things to marvel at. I used to tease her about it;  almost scold her for being that way.   For always seeing the cup as ‘half full’.  But now that I think about it, wouldn’t it be better if we all saw it that way?”

“She’s just different, Nik.  From what we’re used to.  We’ve all been through hell and back. In one way or another.  And somehow she’s still like that.  I used to give her shit for it, too.  Always said she was setting herself up for disappointment if she kept seeing the world like she did. Seeing the good in everyone no matter how shitty they treated her.  Even told her how stupid it all seemed;  that she was being naive and childish and she was just going to get hurt.”

“If anything…anyone…is a breath of fresh air…”

“I realize now that if she didn’t see things the way she did?  Millie wouldn’t even exist.  Esme wouldn’t have stayed on that bridge.  Dhaka wouldn’t have happened the way did.  The things that went down between the two of us. She wouldn’t even have given me a second look.  She would have just seen me as a huge mess. A liability. And moved on with her life.”

“I know you talk about how she came along when you needed it the most, but have you ever thought that maybe you did too? That you came along when she needed you to? Because despite all that light and that brightness and that love for the world and everyone in it, there was a very broken and lonely woman…little girl, even…under all of it.  I would see it sometimes;  this sadness that would just take over.  When she’d just seem to lost and vulnerable and hurting.  That changed.  When she met you.  I saw it in that hospital.  All that time she was holding on and fighting for you, she was holding on and fighting for herself too.   She wanted to be what YOU needed.  And what you deserved.”

“She is way more than I have  ever deserved.”

”But she doesn’t see it that way.  She doesn’t see YOU that way. You came along and pulled her out of a really dark, horrible place.  And I know it’s hard to see that when you’re in a pretty bad place yourself, but it’s true.  The two of you found each other when you both needed it the most.  She didn’t just save YOU, Tyler. You saved her, too. In more ways than one.”

[smol-stardust]

new malkolai fic idea

when nikolai tries to push mal away to keep him safe from the nichevoya

Hihi, it took me a while but I finally finished it, hope it’s okie and sry about any grammar or spelling mistakes that might be there

ao3 link here

Secrets. Nikolai Lantsov has kept many secrets since birth and, throughout the years, has developed a knack for concealing his true feelings. However, his latest secret was not one he'd ever imagined having to keep. A secret that mingled and danced along to the deepest shadows, rather literally. Ever since the fateful encounter with the Darkling's shadow puppets and getting attacked by the Nichevoya, he had grappled with its relentless presence inside him. Its whispers slithered through his mind like serpents, a constant reminder of the darkness lurking within. Yet, he kept his struggle hidden from everyone, afraid of his subjects realizing their king had been corrupted and fearful of hurting those closest to him. He had chosen to shoulder his burden alone and hide from all, especially Mal.

Mal had been his confidant through countless adventures, but Nichevoya was different. It was an enigma, an evil force drawn to his innermost fears and doubts. He feared that their bond might shatter if Mal found out about it. So, he put on a facade of normalcy, his charismatic smile masking the torment within. He carried on the tasks as a monarch with a smile, charming the crowds with his wit as he had always done.

Days turned into weeks, and Nikolai's burden grew heavier. He had always been the protector, the one who shielded others from danger, but now he needed protection. The Nichevoya's power surged at night, its shadowy tendrils creeping into his dreams, twisting them into nightmares. He'd wake up drenched in sweat, heart pounding, and Mal would be none the wiser.

One fateful night, however, Nichevoya's grip grew stronger than ever. Nikolai stood in the middle of his dimly lit room, surrounded by the eerie presence of shadow monsters. Their forms twisted and contorted in unsettling ways, filling the room with whispers of worthlessness and pain. They were slowly causing Nikolai to succumb to the doubt swirling within him. The darkness lured him into their deepest pits, a nightmare that didn't end anytime soon. Nikolai fought valiantly and attempted to push the Nichevoya away, but his strength waned. Whispers filled with despair lingered throughout as he slowly lost himself to the shadows.

Just as he felt the last vestiges of his resolve slipping away, Mal burst into the room. Shock and concern on his face, he took in the surreal scene before him. Without hesitation, he rushed to Nikolai's side, a lit candle in his hands as he tried to light up the shadow-filled room.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going through this?" Mal's voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt. "You think I can't handle this? We've faced everything together, Nikolai. I thought we were a team."

Scrambling away, Nikolai gave Mal's shoulders a rough push. "Get away," he croaked weakly, his usually shining blue eyes now having a veil of fear over them.

"Nik, snap out of it!" Mal demanded. "You can't fight this alone, for saint's sake. I'm here for you, dammit. We're a team."

Nikolai's defences crumbled, his facade finally giving way to raw vulnerability. "I... didn't want you to be burdened by my problems," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I could handle it on my own."

Mal's expression softened, and he touched Nikolai's shoulder. "We've always faced challenges as a team, remember? Your burdens are mine, too, Nikolai. You don't have to go through this alone."

Placing a hand tenderly over the wound on Nikolai's shoulder, the source that caused the nichevoya's presence, Mal murmured gentle words of encouragement, promising to be by his side with his unwavering support.

In an attempt to make the Nichevoya leave, Mal spoke to them. He maintained a steady voice despite the tremor in his soul. However, he remained stable, holding onto Nikolai reassuringly as he tried to ease his struggles.

“Nichevoya,” Mal uttered. "Leave Nikolai be; he has done nothing to you.

The entity hesitated, its shadows flickering uncertainly. It recognized the power that radiated from Mal, rooted in fire and darkness. The Blood of the Darkling flowed through his veins, a legacy he had always struggled to embrace. Now, he would use it to help banish Nichevoya's shadowy reigns from within Nikolai.

Nikolai leaned against Mal and murmured. "They're receding; whatever you're doing, it's working."

Mal gently caressed Nikolai's golden locks. "See, you should've told me; let me help Nik. You don't need to do this alone."

"What would I do without you?" Nikolai sighed.

Mal petted his hair tenderly. "A great king, just a bit lost in the shadows."

The wispy dark tendrils flickered around, their presence becoming less volatile. However, they still seemed to be making Nikolai despair as he let out a choked whimper. "They're always there. Am I even human?"

"Well, I'm supposedly a bird, but you seem to think I'm human, so I think you're fine, dear," Mal muttered.

Nikolai let out a weak chortle, "Thanks… I think I needed that."

Nodding, Mal peered at the Nichevoya and scowled at it. "You were born of darkness, but you stopped controlling the king. He is not yours to control," Mal uttered, his voice resonating with a newfound authority

As if compelled by an invisible force, the Nichevoya began to recede, its form dissipating like smoke in the wind. Mal's lineage, the fiery determination within him, proved more potent than the ancient entity's influence.

With Mal's unwavering support, their combined strength seemed to drive the shadows back further. The room filled with a warm, golden light as their powers melded together, pushing the Nichevoya's influence away. Nikolai felt a sense of relief he hadn't known in weeks, a weight lifting from his shoulders.

As the last traces of the shadows dissipated, Nikolai met Mal's gaze, his eyes shimmering with unspoken gratitude. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with genuine emotion. "I should've trusted you from the beginning."

Mal smiled, the tension between them melting away. "We're a team, Nikolai. No secrets, remember?"

From that moment on, Nikolai allowed Mal into his struggles. They spent countless hours researching ways to weaken Nichevoya's hold on him. With each passing day, their bond grew stronger, and through the influence of Mal's firebird powers, the nichevoya slowly began to submit and slip into a more docile state.

The more Mal talked to the Nichevoya and showered Nikolai in attention, the more the shadowy tendrils started to slip away. While the shadows still slipped out in times of trouble and unease, the darkness lurking within no longer controlled Nikolai as much as they used to. Nikolai managed to contain Nichevoya's influence with Mal's unwavering care and support. Though it still lingered within him, it no longer controlled him. The nightmares grew less frequent, and the shadow monsters became distant memories.

Nikolai and Mal emerged from the ordeal stronger than ever, their bond forged in the crucible of adversity. They continued to face challenges together, side by side, their unbreakable bond a beacon of hope and a reminder that no matter how dark it gets, they'll always have each other to lean on, and home will always be waiting.

[nikskylix]

that gash on his head was just his halloween costume!! ! he's fine .

He shoulda been at the club not on the express 😔

[beheworthy]

extraction 2 was so good! tyler i love youuuuu!!!!

it's better than the first one and the first one was great. chris' performance was excellent.

bring on the 3rd one.

~~spoiler free~~

- tyler's guilt that he wasn't a good father to his babyboy was done really well. i got emotional when he's forced to voice it out.

- the oner is INSANE! it's impossible how they did all that. it's literally impossible!!!!

- chris moves between hardcore action and emotional stuff so seamlessly. he's perfect! he should do more serious films 😌

- this isn't a knack on other actors but everyone looks like they're actors performing a choreographed fight scene while chris looks so natural. we know he rehearsed these moves for 5 months yet it looks like he's coming up with them on the spot. that is beyond exceptional from him!

- loved nik and yaz. tyler's dynamic with both of them is so good.

- love the deep love, understanding, and friendship nik and tyler have without it being romantic. if it develops in later films, it'd be on a solid foundation so we'll understand. if it doesn't, that's cool too.

- tyler and the little girl have my heart ❤️ (him repeatedly whispering to her in her language that she'll be okay 😭)

- 'i couldn't f-g fix it' 😭😭😭😭

- i just love how much of a coward he is (his words). doing what he did to his son, his wife. he hurts nik as well. he doesn't admit about his son. he's just... like THAT. it's such a human flaw. I LOVE HIM.

- when tyler tries to reach and pick the hammer in the climax, I had to pause and laugh for a minute 🙈

[satorusugurugurl]

Hi Marie!

I finally figured out how to add a bio and my age (I hate getting old) had my tumblr for years and never really used it until recently.

Would you consider adding me to your tag list? I don’t always see when you have posted and I hate missing an update and new stories. You have a knack for drawing me into your writing - it makes my day to come home from work to find you have posted.

Nik

Hi there!!

I feel that on a physical level! I've been on tumbler for years too and I still don't know how to use it! Lolol!

I will gladly add you to the tag list!! 💚💚💚 thank you so much for your kind words it makes my day knowing people enjoy my silly stories! 🥹

Much Love,

Marie! 💚

[witchaotics]

@vullcanica || for Nik.

The antique shop was quite charming and Morgan just had to have a peek at its wares. He browsed carefully, admiring the furniture and knick-knacks for sale, there was a section in the back for spells and other magic-related items and he took the opportunity to look at those as well.

There was a man with long dark hair and dark blue eyes. Morgan gave him a friendly smile. "Do you work here?"