Curse Me, Pretty Pls-

Curse me, pretty pls-

so currently i am reading insurgent (2nd book of divergent trilogy)... AND GUESS WHAT!! I GODAMN FUCKING GOOGLED WHETHER THE ENDING IS SATISFACTORY OR NOT AND FOUND OUT THAT TRIS DIED AND CHRISTINA GOESS OFF WITH TOBIAS!!

now i need to vent about it!!

(ok i am going to write a poem on the ending like i imagine)

But, like c'mmon!! Can y'all tell me? Is the ending worth it? WITHOUT ACTUALLY GIVING AWAY ANYMORE SPOILERS-

Edit: I actually like the ending... especially the epilogue

Hear me out guys!!

Is it just me who relates every damn thing , however little might be it be, with the Grishaverse but mainly the Crows?

Like start from History, move on to Economics, Pol Science, English, and holy moly, even Chemistry!! I remember stuff with SoC and CK reference and always find a way to compare them!!

Nina: Guys!! It should be– Matthias loves me!!

Matthias: what does mlm mean?

Inej: men loving men :)

Kaz: multi level marketing

Kanej || HOPE

Prologue

masterlist // chapter 1 —>

He gently put his gloved hand on her shoulders. A sense of warmth flew through her entire body. She felt loved, protected. He made her feel worthy. He was everything to her. Being around him gave her a sense of comfort, she could never express into words.

   The boy with the blazing pistols seemed to be drawn to the fragile heart. He had gifted her freedom, serenity......

Yet, he knew. He knew that she was only a mere figment of imagination and would slowly fade away. He knew that she was nothing but a sphere of illusion. 

The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch.

WHAT'S THE EASIEST WAY TO STEAL A MANS WALLET??

Zoyalai au idea! Pre sab

Young Nikolai and Zoya meet at the winter fete. He has just decided to join the first army, and she doesn't think an otkazatsya can actually make any difference in the field. She seems mean, but he still wants to ask her to dance. Yet he doesn't, because people are watching and he has learnt to please the court, he doesn't want to draw his family's attention to the grisha girl. He is leaving, he doesn't need any more ties to this place.

But maybe in another life he will be braver, maybe in another life he will ask and she will dance with him.

**In Another Life**

Under the high-vaulted ceilings of the Grand Palace ballroom, laughter and music mingled with the clinking of crystal glasses. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a warm glow on the lavishly dressed guests who danced and chatted, oblivious to the cold winter night outside.

The Winter Fete was a display of Ravkan nobility at its finest, but to Nikolai Lantsov, it felt like a gilded cage.

Nikolai stood near the edge of the ballroom, surveying the scene. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, having just committed himself to join the First Army. It was a bold move, one that he hoped would forge his own path away from the expectations of his royal lineage. He yearned for adventure, for a chance to prove himself beyond the pampered life of a prince.

As he scanned the room, his eyes landed on Zoya Nazyalensky. She stood apart from the crowd, a striking figure in a sapphire gown that matched her sharp, observant eyes. Zoya was a Squaller, one of the powerful Grisha, and her reputation preceded her. She exuded confidence and a touch of aloofness, seeming almost untouchable.

Nikolai took a deep breath, steeling himself as he approached her. “Good evening, Miss Nazyalensky,” he greeted, bowing slightly.

Zoya turned to face him, her gaze cool and appraising. “Prince Nikolai,” she replied, her tone polite but distant. “To what do I owe this rare honor?”

“I’ve just made a decision,” Nikolai began, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m joining the First Army.”

Zoya raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “An otkazat'sya in the First Army? That’s ambitious.”

Nikolai chuckled, though her words had a sting of truth. “I thought you might have some advice. After all, you’ve seen more of the real world than most here.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing him. “Advice? Surprising that a prince would seek advice from a Grisha.”

“Everyone needs guidance,” Nikolai replied, meeting her gaze. “And I think there’s more to you than the court gossips say.”

Zoya’s expression softened, just a fraction. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. But let me warn you, Your Highness, the battlefield is no place for pampered princes. It’s harsh and unforgiving.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work,” Nikolai said earnestly. “I want to make a difference.”

“Wanting and doing are different things,” Zoya said, her tone almost gentle. “But perhaps you’ll surprise us all.”

Nikolai felt a warmth spread through him at her words, a glimmer of approval from someone he respected. He hesitated, then, his eyes flicking to the dance floor. “Would you care to dance?”

Zoya’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but before she could respond, a group of courtiers nearby turned to watch them, their whispers and curious glances weighing heavily on him. He remembered his place, the expectations, the scrutiny of the court.

He smiled, a touch ruefully. “Another time, perhaps. When the eyes of the court aren’t so intent on every move.”

Zoya’s gaze softened, a hint of understanding there. “Perhaps,” she said, inclining her head.

Nikolai took a step back, bowing once more. “I hope to see you again, Miss Nazyalensky. Maybe on the battlefield, maybe somewhere else.”

“Until then, Prince Nikolai,” Zoya replied, her voice carrying a promise.

As he walked away, Nikolai felt a pang of regret. He imagined a different life, one where he was braver, where he asked her to dance despite the eyes watching them. In that life, perhaps they would have shared a dance, a conversation that revealed more of themselves, and the start of something neither could predict.

But for now, he had chosen his path, one that led away from the glittering halls of the palace and into the unknown of the battlefield.

He cast one last glance at Zoya, her figure still a striking presence amidst the nobility, before stepping out into the cold night, ready to face whatever awaited him.