#grisha network

[reroutingnetwork]

We wrapped up our coverage of Shadow and Bone this week by talking about episode 7, Meet You in the Meadow and episode 8, No Funerals. Just like in the show where all characters and storylines came together, all four of us recorded together this week.

We're taking a week of, but we'll be back soon to talk about the books.

Listen to the episode on: Apple Podcasts -- Google Podcast -- Amazon Music/Audible

#new episode #rerouting network #rerouting network podcast #shadow and bone #shadow and bone season two #s&b #sab #six of crows #grisha verse #soc #podcast #king of scars #Spotify

[grishaverse-chaos]

how did my brain go from "i wanna write a magnus opjer origin fic" to "i wanna write a grisha!nikolai au"

#anyways now i want to write a magnus opjer origin fic featuring fabrikator!nikolai #in my brain magnus is part of an underground network in fjerda smuggling grisha away to novyi zem + the wandering isle #kind of like the one nina adrik + leoni are part of in kos except it's run from inside fjerda #anyways so..... maybe magnus would be grisha himself 👀 #and maybe he falls in love with the fjerdan princess he meets at a rich people party 👀 #and he never tells her he's a healer 👀 #and then maybe their son is born and he's a fabrikator 👀👀👀👀 #i want to write this SO MUCH now #grishaverse #mayhem.txt #mayhem rambles #shadow and bone #king of scars #magnus opjer #nikolai lantsov #i wanna write it as told via magnus's letters - mostly to whoever is in charge of the grisha smuggling network #but also his letters to tatiana and maybe some that he writes to give to baby nikolai when he's older #mayhem grishaverse originals

[mcntsee]

escape plan

Summary: Kaz ends up in hellgate after a failed heist. As he tries to formulate a plan to escape, he gets a surprise visit from someone who already did him the favor of thinking of an escape plan.

Warnings: I’d say ooc Kaz, Kaz is ok with y/n touch, curses, a lil (very) unrealistic plan.

note: y/n is not part of the crows!

Amid Kaz's meticulously planned heist, a sudden blaring alarm echoed through the air, slicing through the tension of the operation. The source of the alarm was a hidden pressure plate triggered by a guard's misplaced step, activating a network of surveillance spells that alerted the entire perimeter of the targeted building.

Startled by the abrupt alert, the Crows scattered instinctively to evade the rapidly converging guards. In the chaos, Inej melded into the shadows, Nina employed her Grisha powers to cause a momentary diversion, and Jesper utilized his sharpshooting skills to pick off a few guards from a concealed vantage point. Wylan, though not typically part of the action, improvised by creating impromptu explosive distractions to keep the guards at bay.

As the skirmish intensified, Kaz, with his signature cane, engaged a group of four guards, employing swift and calculated strikes to incapacitate two of them. His dexterity allowed him to evade their initial advances, using the uneven terrain to his advantage. However, the numbers eventually overwhelmed him as two more guards joined the fray.

Kaz's movements were precise and fluid, but as the fight wore on, he found himself forced into a corner with his back against a stone wall. He deftly dodged their strikes and countered with a series of calculated blows, disarming one guard and incapacitating another with a well-placed kick. But the remaining guards managed to land a few blows, impairing his movements.

Knowing that escape was unlikely in this situation, and with guards closing in, Kaz made a grim decision. He surrendered, tossing his cane aside and raising his hands in reluctant submission, the flicker of frustration and anger barely contained in his eyes. It was a calculated choice, one that preserved his life for another day and kept the potential for revenge alive.

The guard, a burly man with a grizzled expression, forcefully shoved Kaz's hands behind his back, a grip like iron on his wrists. "You've had your fun, Brekker," he spat, his voice laced with contempt, "but it's time to put a stop to it."

With a firm push, the guard propelled Kaz forward, his boots scuffing against the ground as he staggered. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Inej's shadowy figure. Her hesitation was palpable, unsure of what course of action to take now that most of the guards that remained were surrounding Kaz.

Kaz's keen mind was already working, and with a barely perceptible nod, he signaled to Inej. Understanding his subtle command, she continued her escape, her silhouette melting seamlessly into the surrounding darkness.

As the guards continued to close in, Kaz maintained his facade of reluctant cooperation, letting them push him further toward a waiting carriage. The path he walked felt heavy with the weight of the choices he'd made and the ones he had yet to make. The carriage loomed closer, its ominous presence accentuated by the dim light of the flickering lanterns.

When he finally reached the carriage, the guard who had been relentlessly shoving him forward stepped up to open the door. With a wicked grin, he leaned in close, his voice dripping with malice, "Have fun in Hellgate, boy." The words held a sinister promise as he shoved Kaz into the carriage, the heavy door closing behind him with a resounding thud, sealing his fate within its dark confines.

As the carriage rattled along the uneven path, Kaz's mind raced just as quickly. Plans and possibilities swirled through his thoughts, each one dissected, evaluated, and discarded for one reason or another. He pondered creating a diversion by causing a controlled disturbance among the guards, allowing him to slip away unnoticed in the ensuing chaos. Perhaps using a smoke bomb or creating a loud noise that would draw their attention. But then an again, he did not have the materials needed for this. He also contemplated exploiting the weaknesses of the guards. He imagined fabricating a scenario that played on their greed, promising hidden riches or information that would be divulged only if they allowed him to escape.

Knowing that some guards might have debts or grudges against their superiors, Kaz also entertained the idea of playing on those allegiances, convincing them that his enemies were the real threat and that he held valuable information to neutralize it.

No, he’s done that too many times already. Maybe pretending to suddenly fall ill or even unconscious, causing enough concern among the guards that they would halt their progress to tend to him, giving him a momentary advantage to escape.

As the carriage rolled to a stop at the entrance of Hellgate, Kaz's mind hadn't yet crystallized a winning strategy. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the guards waiting for him, calculating their numbers and potential vulnerabilities. Time was slipping away, but he was determined to find the elusive loophole, the chink in the armor of his captors' plans that would pave the way for his escape.

Two guards pulled Kaz out of the carriage, their grip firm on his arms. As they did, Kaz's gloved fingers surreptitiously traced over the cuffs that bound his wrists, confirming their unwavering presence. He followed their lead as they led him towards the entrance of Hellgate.

Once inside, Kaz was subjected to the standard procedure. He was subjected to a thorough checkpoint, where guards patted him down and scrutinized his belongings for hidden contraband. His gloves, tools, and other belongings were confiscated, leaving him feeling strangely exposed without his usual means of control.

After the inspection, he was handed a set of worn and ragged clothes, the fabric coarse beneath his fingertips. The guards ordered him to change, their rough voices devoid of sympathy or understanding. He complied, his expression giving away nothing of the turmoil churning within him.

Once the clothing change was complete, he stood in the makeshift attire that marked his new reality. The old clothes felt alien on his skin, a stark reminder of his current situation. The guards motioned for him to move forward, their intentions clear as they directed him towards his assigned cell.

Kaz's gaze remained impassive as he walked, his mind already turning over the intricacies of his surroundings. The layout of the prison, the patterns of the guards, and the weaknesses in the security system began to form a mental map that he would soon exploit to his advantage. Inside the cell, he took in his confined surroundings, every detail committed to memory as he prepared to enact the next stage of his plan.

A week of relentless contemplation passed, each day bringing Kaz no closer to the perfect escape plan he sought. Ideas continued to unravel in his mind, leaving him with a growing sense of frustration and unease. The lack of a viable solution gnawed at him, testing his resolve and determination.

As the guards began their final round for serving dinner, Kaz's attention was drawn to the new face standing in front of his cell. The guard was noticeably smaller in stature, a distinct departure from the usual imposing figures. The cap she wore cast a shadow over her features, effectively concealing her identity.

His analytical mind kicked into high gear, scrutinizing the details even as he felt a spark of recognition deep within him. The guard's voice cut through the silence, her words an unexpected revelation. "Missed me?" she asked, her tone lighthearted.

A flicker of surprise danced in Kaz's eyes as realization struck him like a lightning bolt. The cap-shadowed face, the voice that echoed with familiarity—it all aligned. "It's always nice to see you again, Y/N.”

Kaz's lips curved into a half-smile as Y/N's laughter filled the air. The cap was removed, unveiling her face—a sight he hadn't laid eyes on for far too long. The familiarity of her presence was a reassuring balm to his frayed nerves.

As her hand disappeared within the cap, Kaz's curiosity was piqued. Y/N's words drew his attention, her question hanging in the air like an unspoken code between them. "What have you gotten yourself into this time, Kaz?" Her voice held a mixture of fond exasperation and genuine concern, a sentiment that stirred something within him.

When her hand emerged from the cap, Kaz's sharp eyes caught the glint of metal—the unmistakable gleam of a key. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he observed her actions, his heart hammering with a renewed sense of hope. Y/N's ingenuity had always been a force to be reckoned with, a quality that had saved them both more times than he could count.

The key was deftly concealed within the unassuming façade of a piece of hard bread. His gaze met hers, a silent understanding passing between them.

Y/N's instructions were like a lifeline to Kaz, each word etching a path to his freedom. As she handed him his dinner, her voice held a mixture of urgency and reassurance. "Wait until the 12th bell. It's the time the night guards switch. It should give you enough time."

Kaz's eyes remained fixed on her, his focus unwavering. He nodded in acknowledgment, his fingers deftly concealing the key within the sleeve of his clothes, a motion so seamless it was barely noticeable.

Y/N's voice continued, providing a roadmap through the labyrinthine corridors of Hellgate. Her guidance became an indelible mark on his memory as she spoke. "After that, make your way down the corridor." Her finger pointed in the direction he was to follow, and he committed it to memory. "Go past the first five doors, then make a left turn." Her voice clear and Kaz repeated the words under his breath, cementing the directions in his mind.

"After that, walk straight down, pass the two doors and make another left." Kaz's concentration didn't waver as he took in her words, his commitment to each instruction unwavering. "Walk past three more doors and go inside the fourth. I'll meet you there." With that, she donned her cap once more and retreated, leaving Kaz alone with his newfound purpose.

As he watched her silhouette fade into the distance, Kaz's thoughts whirred with anticipation.

When the resonating chime of the 12th bell reverberated through the prison walls, Kaz sprang into motion, following Y/N's intricate instructions to the letter. His calculated steps took him past uninterested guards, their weariness and desire to leave overpowering any suspicions they might have held.

Steadily making his way through the corridors, Kaz's eyes never wavered from his destination. As he arrived at the designated door, relief and anticipation coursed through his veins. There stood Y/N, holding a guard's outfit, a silent testament to her resourcefulness and their unspoken alliance.

Y/N handed the outfit that had previously been worn by the guard that now layed unconscious by her feet to Kaz, her gaze meeting his with a hint of amusement. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips when Kaz looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to turn around. Her words carried a playful undertone as she spoke, “Oh, I think we are way past that, don’t you, Brekker?”

Kaz’s eyes rolled in mock exasperation, but he wasted no time in complying with her unspoken request. He quickly began undressing, his motions efficient and practiced. In the midst of changing into the guard’s clothes, he couldn’t help but pose a question that had been gnawing at him. “What is our next move, Y/N?” he inquired, his focus unwavering as he started to put on the new attire.

Y/N’s hand extended outward, her intent clear as she asked Kaz to hand over the clothes he’d previously worn. Kaz extended the bundle of clothes to Y/N, his gaze fixed on her as she accepted them. As she began to undress, a mixture of emotions swirled within him. When his eyes fell upon her naked form, a faint blush tinged his cheeks, a reaction he silently hoped she wouldn’t catch.

He quickly spun around, providing her the privacy she deserved while she changed. A soft laugh bubbled from Y/N’s lips at his chivalrous reaction, a sound that both acknowledged his gesture and hinted at the familiar intimacy they shared.

“Wouldn’t be the first time you saw me naked, Kaz,” Y/N’s playful remark filled the air, accompanied by her light laughter. In response, a quick memory flashed through Kaz’s mind, a recollection of the first time he had indeed seen Y/N in such a vulnerable state.

Years back, after a dangerous confrontation involving a rival gang, Kaz had rescued Y/N, her body bearing the consequences of a brutal fight. A huge stab wound had been left on her back. She had needed immediate care, and Kaz, without hesitation, had helped her tend to the injury.

Kaz shook his head in mock disbelief, his lips curving into a wry grin. He retorted with a self-deprecating quip about being a gentleman, attempting to lighten the moment with humor.

Y/N’s laughter resonated once more, a melody that echoed through the cell and deep into Kaz’s heart. Her amusement was infectious, and despite the tension that surrounded them, the exchange managed to draw a genuine smile from Kaz.

After Y/N had finished changing, her voice broke the silence. “You can turn back around now, so-called gentleman.” Kaz complied, pivoting to face her once more, a half-smile playing on his lips as he did.

With a focused gaze, Y/N launched into an explanation of her intricate plan, her words weaving a web of strategy that spanned the corridors of Hellgate. Her plan began with a diversion—Kaz would act as a guard escorting her - “a prisoner” - to her cell after a much-needed bathroom stop, exploiting the guard’s negligence during the late hours.

“Once we’re on the move, you’ll take a route that’ll lead us to the maintenance area,” Y/N continued, her voice steady as she outlined the first steps of their audacious escape. “There’s an access point in the maintenance area, a grate that leads to an underground passage. We’ll crawl through it and end up in a storage room near the prison yard.”

Kaz absorbed her words, his mind whirring with possibilities. As she delved further into the plan, her voice never faltered, detailing each step with precision.

“From the storage room, we’ll navigate through a series of tunnels, some narrow, some wider. They’ll take us beneath the prison complex, eventually leading to an old drainage system that empties into a river,” Y/N explained. “I’ve managed to map out the tunnel layout and the potential risks along the way. Once we’re in the drainage tunnel, it’s a matter of reaching the riverbank, where your beloved crows,” she paused for a second, “which, by the way, can be very annoying when they need something, will be waiting with a boat.”

Kaz’s mind was racing as he absorbed the intricacies of the plan. The maze of tunnels, the calculated timing, and the reliance on their combined skills all painted a picture of their perilous journey ahead.

“Once we’re on the boat, we’ll have to navigate to the designated rendezvous point,” Y/N concluded. “The rest of the plan involves meeting up with contacts on the outside and disappearing into the city.”

The night was shrouded in shadows as Y/N and Kaz set their plan into motion. Kaz slipped seamlessly into his role as a guard, his posture authoritative as he escorted Y/N through the dimly lit corridors. Y/N's demeanor was that of a submissive prisoner, a façade that concealed her expertise in navigating the treacherous landscape.

As they moved, Kaz's watchful eyes scanned the surroundings, assessing the guards' disinterested behavior. Y/N's instructions guided them past potential threats, the familiarity of their partnership facilitating their progress.

Approaching a junction, they encountered an unforeseen obstacle: a group of guards conversing loudly. Y/N's hand subtly touched Kaz's arm, a signal to turn back and take an alternative route. In hushed tones, she whispered, "We need to find another way around. Follow me."

They retraced their steps, weaving through a maze of passages, their footsteps muffled by their caution. The path grew narrower, forcing them to stoop and squeeze through tight spaces, a stark reminder of the dangers they faced.

Kaz's voice was a mere murmur as he questioned, "How much longer until we reach the maintenance area?"

Y/N's response was laden with resolve, her determination evident in her words. "Just a little further. Stay close."

Upon reaching the maintenance area, they paused before the access point. Y/N nimbly maneuvered the grate aside, revealing the opening to the subterranean passage.

As they crawled through the confined space, the air grew damp and suffocating. Kaz's fingers brushed against the cool surface of the tunnel, his senses acutely attuned to their surroundings. Y/N's presence beside him was a reassuring anchor, a reminder that they were in this together.

Emerging into the storage room, they exchanged a glance that spoke volumes—a shared recognition of their resilience. The room was cluttered with crates, each step taken with careful consideration to avoid making noise.

A sudden metallic clang reverberated through the room, jolting them both. Their heads snapped toward the source of the sound, hearts racing. "We're not alone here. Someone's coming." Noted Kaz.

Tension gripped them as they sought refuge behind a stack of crates, their breaths held in anticipation. The sound of footsteps grew louder, and they exchanged a fleeting glance, their thoughts entwined. The element of surprise was their advantage—Kaz's hand slipped into his waist band, resting on top of the gun the guard’s uniform ported.

The guard's voice echoed through the room, his words muffled by the distance. Kaz's fingers tightened around the handle of the gun, his gaze fixed on the entrance to the storage room. Y/N's voice was a mere whisper as she mouthed, "Wait for my signal."

As the guard's footsteps grew fainter, Y/N's eyes met Kaz's, her signal a nod toward the exit. With silent determination, they slipped away, their escape far from assured as they ventured deeper into the heart of danger.

The pair moved with deliberate steps, guided by Y/N's instincts and the intricate knowledge she had amassed. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, each corner turning into a potential confrontation. They encountered locked gates, Kaz’s expertise in lockpicking tested as they worked together to overcome the obstacles.

In the narrow tunnels, their progress was hindered by the ever-present risk of discovery. Kaz's breath caught when he heard distant footsteps, his hand instinctively moving to his sidearm. Y/N's hand touched his arm, a subtle reassurance that held more comfort than words ever could. They flattened themselves against the tunnel walls, their bodies tense and poised for action.

The footsteps passed by without incident, leaving them to exhale a collective sigh of relief. Their journey was a dance between stillness and movement, their survival hinging on their ability to remain undetected.

As they neared the drainage system Y/N had described, their movements grew more cautious. The sound of rushing water filled the air. The tunnel walls were slick with moisture, making every step treacherous.

With a shared nod, they pressed onward, their steps echoing against the walls of the tunnel. Suddenly, a grate loomed before them, the exit to the drainage system. Their hearts raced as they surveyed their surroundings, assessing the risks and rewards of their next move.

A loud clatter echoed from behind them, and they both turned, their senses heightened. To their dismay, they saw a trio of guards emerging from the tunnel they had just traversed. The guards were armed and alert, their gaze sweeping the area.

Kaz's voice was tense as he whispered, "We can't go back. Our only option is forward." Y/N's agreement was swift and determined. "Let's move. We can't afford to be caught."

With a final glance behind them, they crawled through the grate and into the drainage system. The sound of rushing water grew louder, and they carefully navigated the dark, confined space. The way was slippery, and they had to exercise utmost caution to avoid falling.

Hours passed, each moment stretching into an eternity as they crawled through the damp tunnels. Their exhaustion was palpable, but their determination held firm. At one point, they encountered a collapsed portion of the tunnel, forcing them to backtrack and find an alternate route.

Amidst the obstacles, Y/N's voice was a steady reassurance. "We're almost there, Kaz. Just a little further."

Their shared goal propelled them forward, even as fatigue gnawed at their resolve. Finally, they emerged into a wider section of the tunnel, the sound of rushing water growing distant as they approached the riverbank.

With the riverbank before them, Y/N and Kaz emerged from the tunnel, their bodies weary and their determination unwavering. Inej’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she greeted them, her voice laced with playful reproach. “Took you long enough.”

As Kaz and Y/N climbed into the boat, a sense of camaraderie surrounded them. Nina’s voice was filled with genuine concern. “Are you both okay? You look like you’ve been through hell.” Y/N’s response was marked by a weary smile. “We’ve seen better days.”

As the boat ventured down the river, the water’s unpredictability challenged their journey. Waves of unease washed over them as the boat rocked, repeatedly causing the crew to stumble and fall. Kaz’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the boat’s edge. Y/N’s hand shot out to steady herself, but the boat’s violent motion sent her crashing onto the floor, a sharp thud resonating as her head made contact with the hard surface.

Kaz’s heart raced as he rushed to her side, his concern evident in his voice. “Are you alright?”

Blinking away the momentary disorientation, Y/N managed a thumbs-up, her voice slightly strained. “I’m fine, just a little bump.”

Relief washed over Kaz as he helped her to her feet, his fingers grazing her arm. But before they could regain their footing, another tumultuous surge rocked the boat, sending Y/N teetering on the edge. Instinctively, Kaz’s arm shot out, his grip strong as he steadied her. But the force of the movement sent them both tumbling to the floor, Y/N landing on top of Kaz.

Amidst the chaos, Y/N’s smirking expression met Kaz’s eyes, her playful remark breaking the tension. “Well, hello there.”

Kaz’s quiet chuckle was both surprised and genuine as he pushed her off of him, his lips curling into a faint smile. The moment was fleeting, but it carried a weight that only the two of them understood.

As the boat continued its tumultuous journey, the city lights of Ketterdam finally came into view. Their destination was within reach, the promise of safety a tangible reality. The collective sigh of relief echoed the sentiment that had united them all.

As the boat finally reached its destination, the crew disembarked and began their journey to the Slat. Y/N walked alongside the Crows, her presence an emblem of her commitment to their alliance, even though her apartment was closer than the Slat.

As they entered the familiar establishment, a sense of camaraderie surrounded them. The Crows were jubilant, ready to celebrate their boss’ successful escape and newfound freedom. The clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter filled the air as they settled in, ready to toast to their victory.

However, Y/N declined the offer of a drink, her weariness evident in her expression. “I think I’m just going to call it a night. I’m pretty tired.”

The Crows exchanged knowing glances, understanding the toll that the night’s events had taken on her. With a nod, they let her go. Kaz following close behind her.

As Kaz prepared to enter his room, a fragment of conversation reached his ears. Jesper’s playful tone cut through the air, sparking a lighthearted exchange. “You guys think they’ve fucked?”

Nina’s quick response was filled with good-natured enthusiasm. “Hopefully!” Laughter followed the exchange. Kaz’s lips quirked into a faint smile, a rare display of amusement as he entered his room. “Kaz must be good if she was willing to risk getting caught in hell gate.” The echoes of the night’s escapades lingered in the air as the Slat’s walls absorbed the laughter.

Inside Kaz’s room, Y/N found herself stretched out on his bed, the exhaustion of the night weighing on her. As he closed the door behind him, her gaze met his, a hint of playfulness in her voice. “Ready to finally sleep in a ‘comfortable’ bed?”

Kaz’s response was a simple nod as he began to rid himself of the guards’ uniform. But as he glanced at Y/N, her eyes closed, he paused. His voice held a note of sincerity as he spoke, the words carrying a weight that went beyond their usual exchanges. “Thank you—”

He hesitated, his gaze drawn to her as her eyes opened to meet his. A brief silence settled between them, the unspoken sentiment hanging in the air. “For getting me out, I mean.”

Y/N’s smile was soft, her words carrying a warmth that mirrored their enduring bond. She closed her eyes once more, a sense of contentment evident in her voice. “Always, Kaz.”

#fanfiction #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #fluff #kaz brekker #oneshot #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker fluff

[thebigsl33p]

Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)

A/N: this is the longest fic I've ever written, and this is only part one. A lot of love has gone into this, I'm super excited to share it! If there any mistakes or stuff please let me know. Uh, Aleksander's kinda OOC bcs it's early days and I'm not traumatising him yet but I am gonna make everyone so miserable in Part Two, I promise, and then he'll become a mardy bastard. Masterlist will be up with the second part, and my main will be updated.

Main Masterlist

people I thought might appreciate being tagged: (If not, sorry!!!):

@augustwithquills @myanmy @noortsshift @archangelslollipop @vaguekayla @budugu @inlovewithfictionalmen444 @weallhaveadestiny @dreamlandcreations @bookloverfilmoholic @lost-tothe-centuries

Warnings: Violence - murder, not too graphic, I don't think. I think that's all, if not please let me know. tbf, canon level I think but maybe I'm delusional

Word Count: 8260

Fic Playlist:

Aleksander has always had a fascination with the night sky. He can’t help it. It’s the darkness, he thinks, it runs in his blood and makes up his flesh, how couldn’t he be absolutely enamoured with it? 

Maybe it’s because it was the only constant. 

So much of his childhood, his years as a teenager and as a young adult were spent travelling, creating new identities, learning new landscapes, new faces, new names, new buildings, all of which would disappear and be replaced every two weeks. And sure, the daytime was nice with the sun and all. But it wasn’t as peaceful, didn’t bring him that same tranquillity as when he would lay down in a field, gaze up and try to name all the constellations, find new shapes and make up new stories. 

Perhaps it all changed due to the incident at the Grisha camp. He had loved sunlight, the dark had scared him. But now, something was different - that air of peace was replaced by a penchant for the tenebrosity that the night brought with it, and a love for the small lights which decorated the dusk. 

No matter where he went, whether he was North, East, South, or West, the night-sky was the same. Always that deep monumental blue speckled with little dots - little lights, little moons, little stories - which people like him called Stars. There was nothing quite like laying in a field, feeling the cool summer breeze or the biting winter gusts and knowing that you were so small, so insignificant compared to everything that burned up in the cosmos. 

He was young then. Young and naive. And it was before her.

Looking back on it, Aleksander should’ve known better. Hadn’t the incident at the Grisha Camp taught him that? Wasn’t it what his mother drilled into him constantly? Trust no one. Never show your abilities. Touch no one. He was, politely put, a fool. 

He was a young man when his life changed, for the better and for the worse. It’s hard to remember exactly, but he believes he was around nineteen, and he remembers it was a hot summer’s evening. The day had been spent working. He couldn’t have known then, but that ‘work’ was the beginnings of The Little Palace. But back then, it was him being - as his mother would put it - foolish, and helping other Grisha travel across Ravka. They were hard to find, and even harder to trust, but gradually, slowly yet surely, he was building a good network.

But during the nights, just for a little while he could let that go. He could lay in the tall grass, head tipped towards the dark vast sky and he could stare up at the stars and pretend he was normal, that shadows weren’t absentmindedly curling around his fingers.

For some reason he struggles to remember memories before that time. They’re blurry and vague, little snippets and days that he’s lost with his extended age. But that particular night, he remembers it vividly - his long hair brushing his cheek in the wind, the hard dirt under his head, the hum of nature and bugs, the bustle of a town not so far away carried on the wind, and the stars. They were the brightest he’d ever seen them, almost restless, buzzing in their eternal placeholders. Something, he could feel, was wrong.

The image of the star falling to Earth is eternally seared into his memory.

It appeared faster than he could comprehend - one second it wasn’t there, and then one second it was. He sits up on his elbows, completely transfixed and stunned by, what he at first presumes, is a shooting star. But gradually, he realises it’s getting bigger, faster… closer.

This burning bright ball of cream yellow light, tumbling through time and space and existence, tumbling towards him. Sitting there in the field, stunned by the sight, he’s sure he can hear it fizzling and crackling, knows it’s completely impossible from this distance, but he’s certain of it. Something tugs in his chest, somewhere between unbridled intrigue and panic, his mother’s words of warning echoing in his head. The intrigue wins, it’s an easy internal battle of common sense and childlike wonder which he thought he had long abandoned. 

Aleksander scrambles to his feet, accidentally getting dirt on his palms and his trousers but he barely notices, head still tilted to the sky and his breath caught in his throat. He can see the trajectory of the star, where it will land in a section of the forest just a bit off from where he’s camping out. His eyes widen, a small smile, and before he knows it he’s stepping towards the tree-line, his black boots thudding on the ground as his footsteps get quicker and quicker. 

To anyone else, the forest might’ve seemed daunting, especially so late at night. But the Shadow Summoner stepped into it without hesitation, the wizened terrain underfoot switching to a softer crunch of twigs and leaves. Once inside, he loses sight of the star, the canopy of the forest shielding it from him, its only indication being the unnatural light it shines through the leaves onto the forest floor, making his journey easier. He dodges twigs, branches, spider-webs, ducking and batting them out of the way quickly, balancing looking at the floor and where he’s going with gazing up at the foliage covered sky for any indication he’s travelling the right way. 

He doesn’t know why he’s following after the star. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s a star. It feels more akin to when you’re in a dream, and you just know something is. Something about it compels him, drags him forward and pushes him on, deeper into the forest.

When the star makes impact, he feels it. In fact, Aleksander’s sure the entire world might’ve felt it, the shake in the trees and the ground, the birds disturbed from their midnight peace quickly fleeing their homes at the rattle of the branches and leaves, the dust-like dirt stirring. And it guides him to the star - the cracking noise it made as it hit the ground unmistakably came from a fraction to his left and so, he followed that way. 

He knows he’s getting closer when the damage becomes more destructive. It’s no longer just disturbed birds and dirt, it’s entire trees tilted at an angle as if God had pushed a finger into the dirt and tilted them, their roots peeking through the soil. But in the middle of the makeshift clearing it is dark, the disturbed dirt floating and drifting through the air and concealing his surroundings. The ground is severely dented and compacted, forming a large dark crater which Aleksander can barely peek over. 

He shuffles from the damaged treeline, his boots creaking on the soil as he tries to catch a glimpse over the edge of the vast crater, but it’s wide and deep, and the edges are loose. He’s careful, his Shadows waiting obediently for his hands to move - for some form of attack or defence. But it never comes. 

Instead, as the clouds of dirt clear, the centre of the crater gradually became more visible. The middle was, overall, smooth but it slopes and nicks here and there. He had expected to see a rock, some large grey bland thing which ultimately would’ve made this all less exciting. But what he sees instead has his eyes widening. There, in the middle of the crater, is a young woman. She’s asleep - passed out maybe - her arms loosely stretched outwards, her hair splayed, messy and white. It’s not even like he can say it’s grey, or silver, or blonde. No, her hair is white, paper white, as white as the dress she’s wearing. It fits her well, skims over her body without constricting too much movement.  He notices she has no shoes on. It dawns on him that this sleeping woman, this girl, is the Star and his brow furrows softly. 

He barely hesitates before he’s sitting on the ledge of the crater and sliding down it, his boots landing on the compacted soil with a thud. In a few strides he’s standing over the sleeping girl, and then in another quick action he crouches down and picks her up, the back of her knees bent over his arm, her waist in his other as he supports her back and her head lolls. He huffs in soft amusement, and walks back the way he came, gently hoisting her up the wall of the crater with as much care as he can, using his shadows when he has a spare hand. It’s hard, and takes a bit of manoeuvring, but he gets there eventually before he pulls himself up. It’s a surprise to him that she hasn’t woken up yet. 

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her there like that, asleep, vulnerable and barefoot where anyone could’ve found her and not have known what they had stumbled on. He picks her up again, and begins his journey back through the forest, a little slower and with a little more care, mumbling to himself - to her - as they go. She doesn’t stir once, her head propped against his chest, her hair tickling his arm slightly. 

The journey back to where he was camping out is peaceful. It’s quiet, save for his footsteps or the rustle of clothes. Occasionally, the moonlight catches her and she sparkles a bit. Literally sparkles, reflects it like a goddamn mirror. It really is a sight to see and it makes his lips quirk up a bit. 

When they get back to the field, he’s careful. Aleksander lays her down on his mat, adds a few more logs to the fire and covers her with his coat. He thinks of checking her for injuries or damage, but decides that can wait until she wakes up. He doesn’t want to be a creep, and if she’s in pain she’s probably better off telling him when she wakes up, than him finding out for himself. 

And so, he settles himself on the other side of the campfire. He leans his head on his pack - considering the girl next to him has his mat - and tries to get what little sleep will come. 

-

When Y/N wakes, it’s in unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing she’s aware of is the cold. It’s not freezing, but it’s uncomfortable, and she tucks her legs up under her until she’s in a ball, tugging the blanket under her chin. Blanket? No. She shouldn’t have a blanket. It shouldn’t be cold… 

She sits up fast and quick, all lethargy gone from her body as her eyes widen and she takes in her surroundings. She’s in a field. On a mat. And someone’s dark, large coat is over her body. It’s early morning, the sky a pale grey, a low mist settling on her surroundings and a light dew coating the grass. She can feel heat on one side of her, but her head is turned towards the foggy treeline. She tries to recall the last things she remembers… being in the sky, existing, and then a sudden gap which she can’t figure out, and then she wakes up here. 

She’s caught in thought, trying to make sense of her surroundings when a voice says, “You’re awake.” and her head whips around. On the other side of a fresh campfire is a young man, dark eyes, long dark hair, pale skin and dark clothes. He’s roasting a rabbit over the fire - no doubt freshly caught from the knife that sits beside him. His pack sits beside him, his eyes never leave her, even as she expresses soft panic. 

She tries to get up, but her body aches, and he holds out a hand, “Easy. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?” he asks softly, waving to her to relax. 

She answers hesitantly, her eyes scanning the boy, “Y/N.” she says eventually, “You?” 

“Leonid.” Aleksander lies, looking between the campfire and her, “Are you hurt anywhere? You took… quite the fall.” 

“Funny.” Y/N says drily, “How long have you been working on that one?”

From the grin that splits his face, he’s clearly secretly pleased with his dad-joke, “Just this morning.” Leonid - Aleksander - turns a bit more serious, “Are you, though? Hurt?” 

She shakes her head, kicking the coat off her and putting it to one side so she can sit up properly, “No, I’m fine.” she mumbles, “Just achy.” 

“Mhm, I suppose that’s to be expected.” he holds the cooked rabbit out to her on a makeshift fork, “Here, eat. You’ll need it.” 

Y/N takes it hesitantly, sniffing it before picking a bit of meat off it with her fingers and eating it, “Thanks… who are you?” 

“Leonid.” He repeats. 

“No, I meant like - where am I? Who are you - like - how did you find me?” 

“Well,” he leans back on his elbows, glances around, “You’re in a field, near Vernost, in Ravka.” he says, “and I am…” his brow furrows softly as he figures out how to phrase this. She’s a Star - would she even understand the difference between Grisha and Otkazats’ya? 

He says it anyway. 

“As I said, my name’s Leonid, I’m…” he’s hesitant - would a star really have prejudices? He hopes not. He takes a foolish chance. “Grisha. You know what that is?” 

She nods, offers him what remains of the Rabbit. He waves it off, indicating that she finishes it. “Why are you helping me?” She asks, tilting her head. 

“My, you’re just full of questions.” he sighs, “I saw you fall. I wasn’t just gonna… leave you.”

“Right.” Y/N’s eyes narrow slightly, “is this your coat? Here you can have it back.” she nudges the coat towards him. 

He gives her an amused look, his eyes moving down, then back up, “I think you’ll need it more than me, zvezda.” he muses, smug almost. 

She glances down at the dress she’s wearing. It’s simple, plain, and he’s right. It’s too thin for the current weather - she’ll be better off as it warms up during the day - but for now, she accepts the coat with a small, amused huff. 

"C'mon, eat that fast," he says, indicating to the rabbit, "We've gotta get going before the sun is too high." He's already tucking away the few things he got out, "I'm gonna walk you to the nearest town, Vernost, leave you somewhere safe, okay?" he glances at her, "Get you some shoes and some more suitable clothes. Until then…”

He reaches into his pack, produces a spare undershirt and hands it to her with an almost apologetic look, "Better than nothing." she nods in thanks.

She takes the shirt with a grateful nod. Once she's finished the rabbit, she stands and hands him the mat, watching as he rolls it up and tucks that away too, and then they're set to travel. She pulls on the undershirt over her dress and while it hangs loosely it provides a bit more comfort, and then she shuffles on his coat. It’s too big for her, completely contrasts her bright eyes and white hair, the sleeves hang loosely and she has to roll them up. 

 He wants to make her as comfortable as possible, and so shows her the map he’s using, highlights the path they’ll be travelling with his finger, showing their way through the woods, worries a bit over her lack of shoes and then they’re walking. 

The path to the town is simple, through the woods, past her crater, and then a little further for about fifteen or twenty minutes. He’s careful to go first, his harsh boots making some attempt at flattening the ground for her barefoot condition. Aleksander considers picking her up - no, too weird for someone he’s just met - and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain. 

They keep walking. The sun rises higher, the morning beginning just as they make their way into Vernost. It’s a small town, but a good town. The hustle and bustle of people, farmers, artisans, builders and blacksmiths is accompanied by the gentle murmur of the small local market, travellers and locals who move between stalls and shops, horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, the crowd parting for an occasional rickety wooden carriage.

He glances over to her. The look of awe on her face is somewhere between sad and endearing. She’s struck completely by this tiny town, the smallest, simplest form of inhabitance, and yet it brings nothing but awe and wonder to her gaze. There’s a sense of yearning in the way her eyes run over everything as they walk, as if she’s desperate to take it all in, to retain it, keep it held to her chest - to make life hers. To have all of it - to know the joys and the sorrows like the back of her hand. Aleksander could practically see the light come to life behind her eyes, as if she’d finally woken up to something wonderful. 

He smiles, somewhere between amusement and appreciation, and places a hand on her shoulder to steer her through the crowds which are slowly getting busier, “Easy tiger.” he says and she laughs sheepishly. 

“It’s just all so…” she doesn’t know how to describe it, the words to explain the way her heart is racing all jam up in her throat. She has a heart. The rushing of blood, just the wind against her skin, it’s all she ever wanted to feel, and now that she can feel it, now she’s no longer confined to the night sky, she’s in complete and utter astonishment, raptured by everything around her. 

“Kinda overwhelming?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow as they walk. He’s keeping an eye out for a Cobbler - or anywhere that sells shoes, really. Again, he casts his eyes down to her bare feet and feels guilt and concern rise in him, that the streets of Vernost, nor the woods are exactly clean, and they must be hurting by now.

But one glance at her face and he can tell she barely feels it. It’s just dirt - it can be washed off. However, it doesn’t ease the guilt. 

-

The first time she ‘shines’, is over a piece of cake. 

They’d been travelling together for a few weeks now. Aleksander was a fool to think he could leave her alone in Vernost, his worries, concerns and guilt over the Star getting the better of him. They stayed for a few days there, giving her a general introduction to the workings of human life in a contained and somewhat non-threatening environment. 

In their few brief days in Vernost she tries a range of food, stews, desserts. He explains money, the current politics of the country over a bowl of stew from the Inn they were staying at, explains the prejudices and segregation of Grisha, the violence. They get her clothing, a shirt, an overvest, trousers and boots, and a small bag to carry her non-existent belongings. She folds her dress into it for the first few days - that silky silver material which catches in the moonlight - and it fits surprisingly well, tucks into the corner of the satchel. He explains to her how to read the map, all the different little symbols. In some ways, she’s like a child. Her lack of general knowledge about the world is understandable, but she catches on fast, much faster than anyone else could’ve. 

Well, they’d been travelling together for a few weeks, developing a relationship that might even be called friendship. Aleksander had to make a few adjustments to the way he travelled - he was still telling Y/N his name was Leonid - occasionally they travelled at night. Honestly, it made more sense, he felt more comfortable in the darkness, and she had more energy. But it also made them bigger targets for suspicion, people travelling at night were often suspected of Grisha related activity… which is exactly what he was doing. She was just along for the ride, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get dragged into his problems and potentially harmed. Conflicting morals, he knows. 

They’d passed through a few villages on their travels, small places which minded their own business and were good for occasional stock ups on food, water, supplies. 

He doesn’t know why he bought the slice of cake. Aleksander had decided it was good for her to develop her own independence, and so she had gone to make her own way around this small town they’d stopped in. Meanwhile, he perused the sparse shops for anything of use. 

The slices of cake were sitting in the shop window, all of them uniform in their cream decoration and the small slices of strawberries which sat inside and on top of the layers of sponge, and all of them placed delicately on little porcelain dishes. He enters the shop without thinking, purchases a slice to take away, lets the person wrap it away in a small tissue and carefully takes it, slipping it into a safe part of his own bag. He’s careful for the rest of the day in the way he moves - making sure not to squash or compromise the baked good. He can’t quite wrap his mind - nor his heart - around why he’s done it. Why did he suddenly feel the urge to buy her a slice of cake of all things. But he’s glad he did. Aleksander hopes she’ll like it. 

He presents it to her over their campfire for the evening. It’s a small thing made of dried grass and twigs or any larger pieces of wood they could find but it provides light and heat and that’s enough. They’re sitting either side of it, across from one another, having just eaten bread and cheese for dinner. Twilight is setting in the sky, and he can see it on her - the way her eyes are slightly brighter, her laugh slightly more mellow as they chat over their food. 

He reaches into his bag by his side, clears his throat and says, “I got you something.”

Y/N’s brow furrows softly, and she tilts her head as he continues, “I just… it’s small, but I thought you might like it.” and he produces a square shaped thing, slanted, and wrapped in tissue, still preserved, offering it to her in the palm of his hand over the campfire. 

She takes it gently, “What is it?” as she delicately peels back the tissue. The cake is… well, cake. The sponge is a soft pale yellow, the cream delicately placed and the strawberries are slightly softer than they should be, but won’t make too much of a difference. She raises it to her nose and hesitantly sniffs it, which gets a chuckle out of him. 

“It’s cake.” he answers, “Go on, try it.” Aleksander encourages her with a wave of his hand. 

She raises her eyebrows and lifts the cake to her mouth, taking a small bite. Her eyes instantly light up, and he laughs at her reaction as she mumbles, “Oh, Saints, this is really good..” Around a  mouthful of cake. 

She eats a bit more, and then holds it out to him, “Want some?” 

And that’s when he sees it. She’s shining. Literally glowing. Radiating light, her very skin and hair giving it off like it’s nothing. His breath hitches as she lights up the field. It’s not particularly bright, but it’s strong and it makes itself known. She’s like a mellow night light, and it only causes his smile to widen, “You’re um…”  he gestures at her - at her glowing. 

Her brow scrunches up - it’s cute - and she laughs sheepishly, “Shining?” 

“Yeah. That.” he grins, leaning back on his palms. 

She huffs, a huff of mock exasperation, “I’m sorry - I can’t… it’s not something I can really control. It just happens, y’know. Like…” She averts her eyes to the flames of the small campfire, “If I’m happy. I shine - it’s what stars do best.” They both laugh a little. 

“Well, it suits you.” Aleksander says gently - his voice much softer than he meant it to be, or than he’s comfortable with. When did he get so… compassionate? He internally grimaces, but for some reason he feels an odd sense of endearment to this girl. 

“Yeah,” She responds with a wry grin, “I should hope so. I am a star, after all.” 

And again, they both laugh. 

-

Aleksander didn’t intend to keep her with him for so long. He didn’t intend to introduce her to his friends - to his connections, to the people across the country who help him with his work. He didn’t intend to get her involved. But they’ve been travelling together for three months and in that time, he’s discovered a wide array of things. 

The first is that she’s good with a sword. Perhaps good is an understatement. She has a natural balance about her, maybe it’s her celestial nature, but watching her with a sword is like watching art. The handle sits in her palm with an easy weight, she swings it with an air of freedom and lax, yet with complete control. The blade is, undoubtedly, hers. 

They had discovered her penchant for swords in a rather unfortunate situation. They had been a touch careless. He was feeling more secure with someone else travelling at his side. And so, had paid less attention to his surroundings. If there was one con of her having her around, it was that she was a touch of a distraction. 

They had passed through a village. They stayed to briefly eat lunch sitting in the town square, and then had gone to pass on just as quick as they came. It shouldn’t have drawn attention. But it did. 

They hadn’t noticed the group of men watching them, looks of disdain on their features as they eyed up the two of them, mumbling to one another. They’d managed to avoid trouble so far, steering clear of Druskelle and negative situations, but on that day, something had given them away as both travellers and Grisha. It was hard to say what - perhaps it was the way they murmured and laughed quietly with one another, maybe the tell-tale way his hands moved. Perhaps he’d been careless and a slip of shadow had been noticed. They couldn’t say for certain. But these men, standing and sneering, they knew.

Either way, Y/N and Aleksander were followed back to where they were camping out by the night. It was just a clearing off the main path they were following, and they had been very comfortably sitting, eating, laughing as they did each and every evening, lit by firelight and accompanied by the low hum of bugs and the weather slowly turning cold. She noticed the figures first.

They seemed to come out of nowhere, far enough away that she could tap his shoulder with a quiet, “Leonid. There’s people.” 

His brow furrowed softly, and he turned over his shoulder in the direction she was looking at. Three men, two shorter, one that was a bit taller and lagged behind - all three variously armed. One man - short, dirty blonde hair and a face marred by smudges of dirt - carried a small dagger. The second, slightly taller with a slightly more muscular frame, had dark hair that was greying at the roots, a knife, and a snarl. The third and final man, the tallest of the lot was passive, but his eyes glinted in the firelight with nothing malevolence, and in his goliath hand was a sword. 

The man with the dark hair speaks first, accented and gruff, his eyes pinned to Aleksander, “Grisha, aren’t you?” he asks the question in a way that betrays he already knows the answer. 

Aleksander doesn’t answer. He’s careful. Delicate. She’s sitting behind him, watching the interaction, hesitant to move. He needs to think this through in a way that puts Y/N out of harm's way. His eyes never leave the men. 

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye - the second man, wielding his dagger up quickly, his movements fueled by disgust. Aleksander’s quicker, raising his hand with two fingers pointed up, creating a wall of shadow which the dagger clashes against, and in that moment he’s scrambled up to his feet, grabbing Y/N by the arm and pulling her up with him. He runs. 

He’s not used to running. He’s used to fighting. But at the moment he’s responsible for two people’s safety, and so he pushes forward, yelling at her to go. He expected the men to follow. He didn’t expect the largest to go after her, the three men separating into groups of one and two. The two come after him, dagger and knife, and he has little time to worry about Y/N before they’re gaining, 

Aleksander’s efficient, his hands move fast to bring forth his shadows, forming sharp points which pierce the chests of the two men with harsh crunches, their weapons dropping into the grass as their bodies go limp, blood drooling from their mouths as the light leaves their eyes. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, but then he’s alert again at the sound of someone crying out from behind him. His head whips around, and he sees Y/N, and the largest man. He’s backing her up against the tree line, she’s almost frozen in fear when she trips over her own feet and onto her back. Her eyes widen, the man leers over her, sword readied and in a brief moment of fear and desperation she rears her legs and kicks his knees. 

The man grunts, hisses in pain as the sword drops from his hand so he can clutch at where she kicked him. Amateur. And in the next instant she’s lunged across the ground for the sword, where he dropped it, scrambling for it. She’s still on the floor, and she turns onto her back as the man’s attention is brought to her again, large hands reaching to cause her harm. 

The sound of the sword cutting into the man is almost deafening. She does it without thinking, pure survival instinct as she cuts the man's stomach, her hands firm on the handle as blood coats them both, her breathing heavy as she pulls the sword out and the man falls back, dying slowly. 

She’s frozen, and Aleksander’s eyes are almost as wide as hers. He takes a few loose footsteps towards her, a few more which are a bit firmer before he’s by her side, kneeling beside her and cleaning the blood off her cheeks with his sleeve, gently taking the sword from her iron grip and laying it beside her. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and it feels stupid. She’s covered in blood, shaking, tears in her eyes and the only thing he can think to ask is ‘are you okay’? Saints, he’s an idiot. 

He moves on, still wiping the blood off her as well as he can as she nods her head shakily, “It’s alright. You’re alright.” He says quietly. He remembers the first time he killed someone - the guilt, the fear, the horror at yourself. He frowns softly, as the thin shine of tears comes to her eyes and she looks away. 

Without thinking about it much more, he picks her up, scooping her into his arms, hooking the back of her knees over his arm as she turns and curls into his chest, her crying quiet and barely audible as he carries her back to their camp. 

-

After that, things are different. They’re closer, in a way.

Y/N keeps the sword, keeps it tucked by her side, takes care of the metal and the handle. She’s good with it, he knows for a fact, and he feels more comfortable knowing she has a means of handling herself. The emotional toll of the murder hit her hard. Perhaps, she thinks, she wasn’t meant to feel emotions like this. Her very existence is in conflict. She’s not meant to be able to feel this way, she’s meant to be a star for Saint’s sake! 

But there is something so very human in the guilt she carried in the days after the attack. She was quiet, much quieter than she usually was. At first, she was hesitant to carry the sword. So, instead he carried it for her, catching her eyes flickering towards it occasionally, the way it swung by his hip and the metal caught in the sun. 

One evening as they walked, she offered to take it instead. 

“Do you want me to take that?” she had said, a quiet, unspoken I think I’m okay now. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, “It’s not heavy, I’m okay to carry it for as long as-” 

“No, I’m sure.” She nodded, her look determined and firm, “My safety shouldn’t be your responsibility alone.” She explained, “We should be responsible for one another if we’re going to be travelling together. And I can’t do that if I’m unarmed.” 

He nodded in understanding, and softly unhooked the sword and the holder, and offered the handle to her. She took it, measuring the weight in her palm, before she put the holder on herself and slipped the sword into it. She took a breath. 

He spoke first, “I should tell you something, Y/N. Y’know, if we’re going to be stuck together for a while, I don’t want to keep you in the dark.” he said. 

She didn’t respond, simply nodded and waited for him to say what he had to say. 

“My name isn’t Leonid, I lied. I’ve spent most of my life having to conceal who I am, what I am, and so I hope you can understand and forgive my deception.” He paused, breathing relief into the night air, “My name is Aleksander.” 

“Aleksander?” She echoes, and a small, intimate smile finds her features, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aleksander.” She says, in that half-teasing tone he’s become so accustomed with.

He rolls his eyes but can’t fight back the grin, “You’re an ass, do you know that?” 

“Ah, you may have mentioned it once or twice.” She shrugs, unable to wipe off that teasing smile from her features. 

He huffs in mock exasperation before his tone turns softer. He’s found he has a habit of doing that. Something about her makes him better, gentler. He almost feels human around her, “I mean it Y/N,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry I lied to you, especially for so long.” 

“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile, nudging his shoulder, “You’re forgiven, if that eases your conscience.” She’s still slightly teasing, but her tone is mostly compassionate. Endearing, even. 

“Thank you,” he says, grinning as he nudges her back, “Saints, you’re insufferable.” 

She gasps, dramatically feigning offence. For a star, she’s caught onto the culture of sarcasm and drama rather well, and he laughs at her display, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walk. It feels right. 

“How are you finding it?” He asks, as they walk, “y’know, being human? Is it weird?” He checks in on her this way every now and then to make sure she’s not overwhelmed. But this is the first time she answers differently. 

“...As a star…” She sighed softly, weighing up her words, “You’re constantly watching. You’re up there, watching all these little people have adventures and lives and romance, and it’s… it’s yearning. You want those things too, y’know? You want to be flesh and bone as well, to feel emotion. To cry, and be happy, and be angry, and to know what love feels like. You want adventure, the big things in life like… meeting someone. Or having a family. Or getting an education. Making a difference.” She laughed softly, “But you also want the little things - like cake, for example. And music, and friendship, and to share meals with people you care about.” 

She glanced at him, and then back to the path, “I’m glad you found me. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done such a good job at making me feel welcome in a world that isn’t strictly mine.” 

Her words were soft, quiet, and sincere. And it made Aleksander’s heart stutter in his chest, but he kept his composure and managed, “I’m glad I found you too.” 

-

Aleksander takes her to a place he calls ‘the sanctuary’. 

He explains it to her on the way there - a building, a place, where Grisha can support, aid and train other Grisha. 

It’s been months since they first met, and by now the warm comfort of the summer is fading, replaced by cold golden sunlight and browned leaves, wetter grounds and harsher gales. And so, he takes her there.

The sanctuary is a medium-sized, pale stone structure, hidden away in the middle of nowhere, concealed by thick woods and trees. It’s squat, but wide, the front of it gives away nothing but a set of rounded wooden doors. He takes her hand - she’s not even sure he realises that he’s done it - and guides her with him to the front. Her sword swings at her side as she follows, standing beside him as he raps his knuckles on the wooden door a few times. 

The door opens a crack, she can’t see who’s on the other side, but Aleksander’s gaze meets theirs and they open it. On the other side is a man, short brown hair and green eyes. He’s rather skinny, but his strength is held in his eyes. He lets Aleksander in without issue, nodding his head softly. Their hands are still linked together and so, she goes to follow. 

But the brown haired man stops her, a hand coming to her chest to halt her, his eyes narrowed and dark, glancing back at Aleksander. He answers, “She’s with me, Andrei.” 

“Grisha?” The man interrogates. 

Aleksander huffs, “No, Andrei. But she’s been helping me for the past five months, let her through.” 

Andrei’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he glances at Aleksander finally before letting his hand drop and allowing her entrance. She nods her head softly, and follows after Aleksander. Y/N feels him squeeze her hand, a quiet apology. She squeezes back as he guides her deeper into the sanctuary. They pass rooms, beds, people who nod at him as they pass and whose eyebrows furrow when they see her trailing after him, and her stark white hair. 

Inside, the sanctuary was busy. It was filled with the hum of people working, all in various clothing - some injured, some healing, some cooking, some reading, teaching, training - it was almost a wonderful study in the kindness of human nature and community that had her eyes widening. 

“Are you alright, Zvezda?” he asked softly, turning back to her over his shoulder, “Are you overwhelmed? We can…” 

“No, it’s… it’s wonderful.” She said quietly, her wide eyes meeting his, “I mean- it’s astounding. I’m good.” she nodded, indicating for him to keep going, “It’s just… in all our time travelling, I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

He laughed softly, pulling her closer by her hand, “I guess,” he grinned, “I’m proud of this place. I’m glad you can see it like that.” 

They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary. 

Aleksander takes his time to introduce Y/N to those around her. He shows her around to all the Healers, the Heartrenders, the Inferni, the Squalors, Tidemakers - technically, he shows her off to everyone. But no one knows, really, who - or what - she is. He doesn’t say. People press and ask and inquire, “Oh, what’s her Grisha order?” “Grisha, are you?” And everytime, one of them answers, “Oh, uh, No.” and refuse to elaborate further. 

It has the entire building utterly perplexed as to who this strange white haired girl is, and why she has the Shadow Summoner wrapped around her little finger. Not that The Star or The Shadow Summoner can see it, no, they��re completely oblivious. They don’t see how they’re quiet giggles, teasing, conversations might be perceived as intimate. Nor how the amount of time they spend together might be seen as suspicious.

But when you’ve spent everyday with a person for just over five months, all day, everyday, it’s very hard to separate yourself from the comfort they bring.

The confession comes late at night. 

Now that they’re in a place like the Sanctuary, they have their own rooms. They’re only small, and they’re a short walk away from one another, and it gives them each a privacy they haven’t experienced for a few months. For the first week - it’s nice. Having their own beds, their own time, being able to spend some of it alone with their thoughts. 

He notices it first. That he’s restless. It’s late at night, most of the building is asleep save for those on night watch, and he can barely close his eyes without feeling disturbed. He feels the need to do something - anything - and so, he gets out of bed, slipping back on his boots at the end of his bed and deciding he’s going to go for a walk. Maybe it’ll help clear his mind. 

Aleksander’s almost embarrassed. He can’t… he can’t stop thinking of her. He’s annoyed at himself for it, for letting him get that close, for letting him be so vulnerable to someone who wasn’t even human, who had a child’s grasp on the world… 

No, that was being unfair. He calms himself as he steps out of his room. He knows he’s just agitated, tired, a little giddy, and he takes a deep breath as he starts off down the corridor, careful not to let his boots thud too heavily. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he decides he’s just going to walk until he comes across something distracting or gets tired. 

His feet take him to her room. 

It’s the same size as his, and from the crack in the door he can tell she’s still awake, can hear a slight shuffling inside, candle light flickering on the floor. He realises now, why he’s there. What he’s come to do. And his heart lurches in his chest, but he understands that it’s now or hold his tongue for another few months and he doesn’t want to do that. 

Aleksander wants her to know about the Y/N shaped cavern she’s carved into his life. He wants her to know about how all those nights spent travelling in fields were not something he was willing to give up so easily - that when spring came he hoped to do it all again. With her. That he thinks of her endlessly. That when he wakes he hopes she’s still sleeping beside him, just a campfire away. And he wants her closer. He wants her. It’s as simple as that, that he wants to see her smile at him, and laugh - he doesn’t care if it’s at him or with him - Saints, he just wants her happy. 

The revelation comes to him, standing so close to her yet so far, on her bedroom doorstep. He takes a breath, steels himself to the sound of her soft humming from the other side of the door, and then raises his fist and knocks three times. 

By the first knock, the humming stops. By the second, she’s walking over to the door, he can hear her footsteps. And by the third, the handle is turning. The door opens and he lowers his hand. She’s standing on the other side. Of course it was her, he knew it was her. It doesn’t stop his heart from thudding against his ribs, nor his breath hitching quietly. 

The light from the candle makes her seem fully celestial, casting a golden hue across her features, and darkening half her face to accentuate them. It bounces off her silver hair, catching in the strands like a contained forest fire. 

“Aleksander?” Y/N greets softly, a small amused smile as she tilts her head in soft confusion, her brow furrowing. 

“Zvezda,” He greets softly, his eyes catching in the candle, so dark you can barely separate the pupil from the iris, “Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head with a small laugh, beckoning him in with her hand, “Always got more energy during the night,” she sighs, “And it’s taking some getting used to, not sleeping in a field, not waking up…” next to you. 

But she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, he simply hums in agreement and shuts the door behind him, leaning on it, “I know, it’s a big adjustment.” He runs a hand through his long dark hair, “How are you finding the Sanctuary?” 

“It’s nice,” she says softly, briefly fixing her words in a slight hurry, “Sorry, that sounded- it’s lovely. The people are kind, the community is wonderful, food’s much better than bread and cheese and meats,” She grins, “No offence.”

He laughs, his nose wrinkling with the action, “None taken. In fact, I completely agree.” 

She sits on her bed as they talk, tucking her legs underneath her, “Can’t sleep either?” She probes.  

Aleksander shakes his head as well, “No, feeling restless. Same reasons as you.” He admits, feeling a bit more at ease with the slight indication that the comfort they feel around one another may be mutual, “I guess,” he sighs, bracing himself to admit it, “We spent so long together. A week was fine - but it’s weird. I keep on… waking up and expecting to see you.” 

“I know,” she agreed quietly with a small laugh, her head bent down to her hands in her lap, “it’s strange, isn’t it? I feel weird not… walking with you, or doing something, seeing a new town or whatnot. And I have this feeling.” She frowned softly to herself.

He tilts his head, folds his arms, “What feeling, Zvezda?” He asks, his brow furrowing gently. 

“I… I don’t know.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked not quite at him - but just over his shoulder - “It’s like… this…tightness.” her hand came to her chest, her nose scrunching softly, “Here. Like… nausea. But not quite - I’m not going to be sick. And I can feel my heart. And it… it feels like wanting. But stronger?” 

His eyes widened a fraction, “And uh, when do you feel it?” 

She tilted her head, her eyes zeroing in on him in confusion and uncertainty, “When…” when I think about you. “Oh.” She said quietly, “Is that what that is?” her hand gently rubbed her chest, clearly where she felt it strongest, a sheepish laugh as she turned her eyes to the candle, anywhere but him, “They don’t describe it like this in the books.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that he wouldn’t have to explain to her that what she was feeling was, at least, a crush. If not more. Aleksander laughed softly, “No, no they do not.” 

Y/N laughed too, mildly embarrassed and still somewhat avoiding looking at him, her hands fidgeting, “Look, I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t be.” he cut her off, “Don’t be, please don’t be, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He cleared his throat and took a sharp breath, standing up from leaning on the door, “It’s… it’s  mutual, Y/N.” and he took a hesitant step towards her, “Zvezda.” He said the nickname to get her attention. 

It worked, her head turning slightly, and he continued, “Please don’t ever apologise for having feelings.” He said, his tone so much softer than he was comfortable with, “You’re a human now.” he laughed a little, crouching down in front of her as she sat on the bed, “It’s your job now. To feel. To make the most of life. So,” he said with a playful shrug, “we both have… crushes on one another.” It felt childish to say ‘crushes’ but he couldn’t think of a better word. 

“I mean…” he sighed softly, “That’s kind of… why I came here.” He confessed. 

“Really?” she asked quietly, watching him intently as he spoke. 

“Really.” he echoed, standing up. She patted the bed beside her for him to sit, and he gratefully took it, glad she was taking this all so well and she wasn’t clamming up about their feelings for one another, “Look, Y/N, Zvezda. You’ve changed my life,” he said with a small laugh of disbelief, “I mean… you’re a Star, for Saint’s sake. You are, by nature, brilliant. And you’ve been nothing short of that in the months we’ve been travelling. Even if your humour is appalling.” He softly teased, earning a playful grumble of, “It is not.” from her. 

“It is!” he insisted with a teasing grin, “You laugh at all my bad jokes, dear.” 

“Yeah well,” her initial embarrassment was beginning to fade as they engaged in their usual banter, “I think that says more about you for making the bad jokes.” to which he scoffed, and she dispersed into laughter, the two of them leaning back on the single bed. 

The laughter lasted a moment longer before fading out with a soft, content sigh. He grinned at her from where he was, a hand reaching forward for hers as he softly, half-teasingly, murmured, “You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.” 

“What can I say?” she laughed quietly, her head finding his shoulder, “I’m happy.”

A/N: I cannot wait to go to bed. And also to start part two. Goodnight!! <;3

#Last Words of A Shooting Star AU #Stardust AU #the darkling X reader #Shadow And bone X reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader #stardust au #thebigsl33p

[lassieposting]

Anyway, fucking obsessed with the implied Kirigan/Ivan friendship, so have some headcanons

- So Ivan is one of a relatively small group of survivors old enough to remember the previous Darkling - Aleksander's last identity. He's a military brat and the only Grisha in an all-otkazat'sya family, so he lost a lot of family members very young. Aleksander has always refused to have First Army emissaries coming onto Little Palace property with hostile attitudes and condescension to traumatise baby Grisha, so when a student loses a First Army family member, he tends to break the news himself; it's the least he can do given none of them asked to be forcibly enlisted in a war they didn't start. Ivan, whose family were virtually all First Army, got pulled out of classes for a sombre talk with "Kirigan Sr" a few times, and developed a lot of respect for him.

- At some point, while Ivan is still young, the old Darkling retires to the family estate, citing age-related health concerns; even Grisha get old eventually. He completes the rest of his service via correspondence, and sends "his son" Aleksander into the Second Army to train to replace him.

- This is a habit of Aleksander's - when he changes identity, he starts back at the bottom and works his way back up through the ranks. A General needs a lot of things to do his job effectively: a network of loyal, trustworthy lieutenants to delegate to, a history of proven military experience, and the trust of the monarch he serves. Changing identities essentially means he loses all that, and the best way to build it back is to rejoin the army. His old guard - who not only remain loyal to his old way of doing things but also could potentially figure out his ruse - can be respectfully grandfathered out to less strenuous positions, replaced with new underlings loyal to his new self, who served with or under him on the front lines. By the time he takes over at court again, he's gained a whole new military history, and the king has met him several times already, to pin medals on a very promising young officer. It's easier to just have a new military career than to come in unproven and deal with the consequences at court.

- When Ivan is old enough to fight, he ends up serving under then-Captain Aleksander Kirigan. He has no idea that his new CO is the same old man who patted his shoulder while he bawled into his kefta over his dead father and brothers, but Aleksander remembers Ivan, and earmarks him for future leadership roles. There's always a superior/underling professional boundary there, but over the years Ivan and Kirigan become quite close, and eventually Ivan becomes his de facto #2. As someone who has no one, this relationship is incredibly meaningful to Ivan, and he responds with the kind of gruff affection and trustworthiness that Aleksander hasn't had in a long time. So while he'd never admit it, Ivan's friendship is very important to him too.

- Ivan's period of compulsory service ends. He has options, limited though they are, to leave the Second Army; he could take a research postgraduate place at the Little Palace, or become a teacher for small Grisha, or find paid work in a noble house somewhere. He refuses all of them. What he wants - what he's always wanted - is to be a career soldier.

- So when he's medically discharged from service, he's devastated. It's battle-shock, they tell him, and it makes him a danger to himself and others on the front lines. Kirigan takes a bullet dragging him, frozen, out of the way of advancing Fjerdans with repeating rifles. He's not fit to fight.

- And suddenly, he's utterly lost. Fighting is all he's ever known, the only thing he's good at, the only future he ever saw himself having. He makes a few comments to friends that leave them seriously concerned, and one of them goes to the newly-minted General. Aleksander pulls some strings on Ivan's behalf to stave off a complete discharge. Instead of being booted out of the army completely, he's shunted sideways into a new job as Kirigan's aide-de-camp - basically a personal assistant to run his life for him while he focuses on Military Things.

- It's not what Ivan saw in his future, but he's incredibly grateful not to be sent home to rot. He throws himself into his new role with everything he's got, determined not to make Kirigan regret it. He makes sure correspondence is sent on time, he makes sure the General gets where he needs to be when he needs to be there, he manages supplies and personal requests and bodyguarding. He's still Kirigan's right hand man, just in a different sphere. And over time, as the pressure of chessmastering two wars ramps up, he takes on more and more little tasks and becomes increasingly indispensable until Aleksander really isn't sure how he used to function without Ivan. There's a kind of symbiosis there, eventually. Ivan is Pepper Potts to Kirigan's Tony Stark: he usually knows what his boss needs before Kirigan asks for it, he knows a lot more about Kirigan than he'd ever let on, and Kirigan would be far less effective and put-together without him.

- One day, Ivan meets Fedyor Kaminsky. Ivan proceeds to spend the next few years pining over Fedyor Kaminsky, because he is emotionally inept, sharp-tempered and struggles to endear himself to anyone that isn't also a gruff, hardened war veteran. Fedyor is young and idealistic and still believes in things like hope and heroism. He's still in active service, but he's thinking of maybe leaving after the compulsory term to teach. He's good with the little Grisha.

- This crush shocks fucking everyone who knows Ivan, because at this point it's basically a running joke among the Little Palace's higher-ups that he'll never marry - he's too devoted to the General to have room in his life for romance. Fedyor is not what anyone - Ivan included - expected Ivan to like, but hey, opposites attract. Kirigan tolerates several years of long-distance Yearning™ with good grace.

- Fedyor and Ivan court for quite a while, and figure out how they fit a) together and b) into each other's lives. Fedyor has a long hard think about whether he can see himself marrying a man like Ivan - he knows Ivan is pretty codependent with General Kirigan, knows how traumatised he is, knows how dedicated he is to his job, knows he's uncertain about ever wanting children, knows that their marriage would essentially be "This is my husband Ivan and Ivan's boss, General Kirigan." And eventually, he decides he can deal with that; Ivan is worth it. He stays in the army rather than leave, to be close to Ivan.

- Ivan brings up the wedding to Aleksander precisely once, to tell him that he'd be honoured if Aleksander would officiate. The way he says it is offhand, low expectations, because a General has more important things to do than go to an employee's wedding. Aleksander hmms, not even taking his eyes off the report he's reading, and says, "Give me a date when you have one and I'll see if I can spare the time."

- He makes the time. Ivan usually manages his schedule, but he damn well makes sure that day is free personally, because he knows Ivan won't prioritise his wedding over a meeting with the king, or whatever, and nope. He's unavailable for meetings that day. He has somewhere to be.

- He marries them. And wrangles a whole three weeks off for Ivan, so they can have a honeymoon.

- However. Going on a honeymoon means leaving Kirigan unattended, so Ivan coming back from his honeymoon is basically this:

- And like, it's not that Aleksander can't look after himself. It's just that Ivan has been doing so much for him for so fucking long that he's forgotten he needs to do those things. He's so used to Ivan Handling It, that it's only when it comes back to bite him in the ass that he's like oh, yeah, Ivan is on leave. Ivan has literally never seen Kirigan this openly glad to see him, please fix his calendar he has four meetings today in four different places and they're all at the same time, never leave again.

- Fedyor becomes bodyguard #2 after a brief blip in their marriage where he and Ivan spend a lot of time rowing over how little they see each other. He feels neglected, and he's second-guessing whether he can tolerate the Ivan-Kirigan codependence issue. Ivan and Aleksander are not the type to have deep conversations about their feelings - they bully each other into self-care once it starts affecting their ability to do their jobs. Ivan bullies Aleksander into eating or sleeping or getting fresh air, and Aleksander bullies Ivan into admitting he's having marital issues. His solve is to offer Fedyor a job - that way, he and Ivan will get to spend most of their time together. Sharing his duties with Fedyor also frees up a fair amount of Ivan's time, which is hard for him at first, but good for their relationship in the long run.

- Fedyor develops his own relationship with Kirigan, over time. Sometimes, his softly-softly approach can get results out of a stressed-out sleep-deprived General where Ivan's no-bullshit confrontational style would cause a row. They respect each other, and like each other as boss/underling, but there's not the friendship there that there is with Ivan. The professional barrier is a lot more pronounced - Ivan can get away with calling Aleksander "Kirigan" at times - when he's being particularly vexing, mostly - but Fedyor could not.

- By canon, they've settled nicely into their You, Me & The General Makes Three marriage. It's become an in-joke between them that Kirigan is, in turns, the third spouse, the kid, or the dog:

("Fedya, I don't know if I'll ever be ready to be a father. I have no idea how to look after a child."

"Oh, nonsense, darling, you do a wonderful job every day with General Kirigan.")

("Beloved, you should go rescue your other husband. The Kerch ambassador has him cornered by the punch fountain.")

- Genya also gets in on this vein of in-joke from time to time - but only with Fedyor, never with Ivan.

("So if you two ever divorce, who gets custody?"

"Of the General? Oh, he does. It'd be cruel to separate them, you know? They'd pine.")

- They are all under the impression that the General is completely unaware of these jokes, because they're unprofessional and he'd surely disapprove. They have no idea that when Aleksander enters a room without Ivan half a step behind him, half the time Nikolai still thinks it's funny to ask, "Where's the rest of you?"

- And despite everything, they still both refuse to admit they see each other as anything more than, basically, boss and devoted servant. The last ~150 years? Entirely professional.

But. Yeah. Nah. Friends.

#aleksander kirigan #ivan kaminsky #fedyor kaminsky #fivan #darkolai #sab headcanons #also gonna tag this as #sab d3 #because all my headcanons are d3-inspired #sab

[lunarthecorvus]

My Matthias lives headcanon -

Matthias and Nina's mission to help grisha in Fjerda

After the auction Matthias and Nina stay in the Van Eck mansion whilst the chaos from the auction settles.

After its all calmed down, Nina and Matthias go to Ravka for a few weeks and then set off to be undercover in Fjerda and run a network with Ravka, that helps grisha in Fjerda, and helps to change Fjerdan's opinions on grisha.

During this time, whenever they can, they send letters to the rest of the crows (yes, even Kaz). Every few months, they go on a break and stay in Ketterdam for a while, and sometimes they go to Ravka to see Zoya and Nikolai (Nina ends up loving Nikolai and establishing a siblingy bond) (much to Zoya's fake dismay).

Eventually, once the network is larger, they buy a place in Ketterdam and stay there for longer and run operations from their home. They do still go undercover and enjoy Fjerda (especially Matthias).

#these are fun to make #this one was inspired by kos #six of crows #grishaverse #nina zenik #matthias helvar #helnik #crooked kingdom #soc #wylan van eck #nikao lanstov #zoya nazyalensky #lunars headcanons

[orestes-hungry-and-pylades-sober]

A random headcanon that has absolutely no basis in actual canon whatsoever (but that can be supported by canon) and that I will carry to my grave:

Ivan is the Darkling’s second-in-command, yes, but Fedyor is the master of information- the Grisha’s spymaster, if you will. He knows everything and everyone. His spies are the ones who know exactly what happened in the Fold the second Alina emerges, and is the one who instantly sets everything in motion. He’s tracking the information that gets out about her and specifically chosen to escort her back to Os Alta due to him knowing more about what’s going on than anyone else in the world.

He’s like a spider in the middle of a massive web of spies all over the world and in every single country, with an information network far bigger than that of any other nation. He knows everything that happens as soon as it happens, if not before. He’s also the person who deals with things that need to be done quickly, quietly, and discreetly. If someone is causing problems and ‘mysteriously’ goes missing without a trace, you can be he’s responsible, and while he’s a good and nice person, he’s still dedicated to the cause and is efficient and ruthless.

And sure, he’s cheerful and perpetually smiling and warm, but he’s also ruthless and terrifyingly intelligent and clever, and most people only see the smiles and don’t instantly realize how powerful he is until he pulls a clever one-up on you with information he technically probably shouldn’t know but that’s completely harmless and it’s put as a good-natured joke, but wait, what else does he actually know- and the answer is everything. He knows everything, and suddenly you realize why this man is the third most powerful person in the Second Army and arguably the entire world. People always underestimate him at first, and that suits him perfectly fine.

The reason he’s so good at his job is because by nature, he’s just a curious person. He’s the sort of person who is desperate for knowledge and would never choose to live in ignorance, no matter how much the truth might hurt, and is thorough and precise and who leaves no stone unturned.

The reason he goes specifically to track Nina down (in the show, that is) is because she’s one of his spies directly under his command and I also really really like the headcanon that he and Ivan are basically Nina’s parents and adopted her when she first came to the Little Palace, but that’s also a seperate rant.

And while he may indeed be married to the Darkling’s second-in-command, no one could ever possibly doubt that he earned this position with his own sweat and blood, and that Ravka would have fallen years ago if not for him. Going off of that, I think I like the idea of Fedyor not being some random unimportant soldier, because Ivan being in charge of everything relating to the military and Fedyor being the one who does politics and diplomacy and controls all information and intelligence.

Of course, a lot of this is more pulled out of what’s canon for a rather large fic I’ve been working on for a while but no matter what, y’all can pry Spymaster Fedyor out of my cold dead hands.

#kinda contradicted by the fact that in the books #he’s just some guy #he seems to be pretty important in the show though #but just because I have little to no canon evidence for this I refuse to take anything else #shadow and bone #grishaverse #fedyor kaminsky #ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- none

A/N- This chapter's quite long because it would've been much more work dividing it up into two chapters. So lemme know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n @marauders-wife @evelyndane

Ch-48 ~Glimmer of hope~

Once they’d been set to move, they met with Alina and Mal at Chetya’s Well, a natural fountain at the crossroads of four of the major tunnels. 

If the Apparat did decide to send a party after them, they’d be harder to track from there. 

At least that was the idea, but they hadn’t anticipated the immense crowd of priestguards and Grisha crowded around the fountain to see them off.

They were all in ordinary travel clothes, their kefta stowed in their packs. Anaya had dressed in a tawny shirt with a pair of military-like pants and a coat over it. 

The pilgrims reached out to touch Alina’s sleeve, her hand. Some pressed little gifts on them, the only offerings they had. 

Anaya could see Genya’s surprise when a woman placed a dark green prayer shawl around her shoulders. “Not black,” she said. “For you, not black.” 

 Mal took the lead. Tolya and Tamar brought up the rear, scouting behind them to make sure that no one followed. 

Through David’s access to the archives and Mal’s innate sense of direction, they’d managed to construct a rough map of the tunnel network. They had started plotting a course to Ryevost, but there were gaps in their information. No matter how accurate they’d been, they couldn’t be sure of what they might be walking into. 

The safest passage for them at the moment, had been the tunnels that led north. So evidently, Mal had decided to take up that path.

The tunnels grew darker as they moved farther from the White Cathedral and its strange alabaster glow. 

Soon, their way was lit by nothing but the swaying light of the lanterns. In some places, the caverns were so narrow that they had to remove their packs and wriggle along between the press of walls. 

That wasn’t the most ideal route but the problem was how frustratingly slow progress they’d been making. 

They were marching in a long column with Zoya, Nadia, and Adrik spread out along the line, in case of a cave-in, the air the Squallers could summon might provide valuable breathing time for anyone trapped. Anaya moved beside the squallers, so as to update them on regular intervals on how below ground they were, on the basis of the humidity in the air.

 David and Genya kept falling behind, but he seemed to be the one responsible for the lag. Finally, Tolya hefted the huge pack from David’s narrow shoulders.

 “What do you have in this thing?” He groaned.

 “Three pairs of socks, one pair of trousers, an extra shirt. One canteen. A tin cup and plate. A cylindrical slide rule, a chondrometer, a jar of spruce sap, my collection of anticorrosives-” David began listing

 “You were only supposed to pack what you need.”

 “Exactly.”  He gave an emphatic nod. 

“Please tell me you didn’t bring all of Morozova’s journals,” Alina said

 “Of course I did.”

 “Maybe they’ll make good kindling.” Alina roller her eyes

 “Is she kidding?” David asked, looking concerned. “I can never tell if she’s kidding.” 

                                                         ......................................................…………………….

Mal slowed their pace as they were approaching an underground river. He had Alina walk directly behind him, casting light over the path.

As they grew closer, the roar of the falling water became deafening, the river rushing past at uncertain depth, plumes of mist rising from the rapids. 

Mal nodded to Anaya as a signal. 

She stepped forward, raising her arms. With a harsh wave of her arm, she forced the water to move sideways, forming a clear path in the middle. She held her position as the rest moved forward. 

As the water had been coming straight out of a waterfall, it had an immense force that made it harder for her to keep it steady.

Anaya was the last one to move forward. She kept her arms slightly outwards, still exerting force on the water to keep it away. She dropped her arms as soon as she reached the other side, already exhausted because of the lack of proper rest.

“Why can’t we stop in this dank cave instead of the next dank cave?” Zoya groused.

 Mal didn’t break stride, but hooked a thumb back at the river. “Because of that,” he shouted over the din of rushing water. “If we’ve been followed, it will be too easy for someone to sneak up on us with that noise as cover.” 

Zoya scowled, but they pushed on, until they’d finally outdistanced the river’s clamor. 

They spent the night in a hollow of damp limestone where Anaya had no other choice but to listen to Harshaw's blabber about his beloved tabby.

                                                       ................................................………………………………….

For two days, they carried on like that, moving through the tunnels, occasionally backtracking when a route proved impassable. 

Anaya had absolutely no idea where they were going anymore, but when Mal announced that they were turning west, she noticed that the passages were sloping upward.

Mal set an unforgiving pace. To keep contact, he and the twins would whistle to each other from opposite ends of the column, making sure no one had drifted too far behind. 

Tamar had started trying to teach Nadia some Shu ballads. Unfortunately, her memory was terrible, but her brother’s was nearly perfect and he’d eagerly taken over. The normally taciturn Tolya could recite entire cycles of epic poetry in Ravkan and Shu, even if no one wanted to hear them. 

Though Mal had ordered that they remain in strict formation, Genya frequently escaped to the front of the column to complain to Alina. 

“Every poem is about a brave hero named Kregi, every single one. He always has a steed, and we have to hear about the steed and the three different kinds of swords he carried and the color of the scarf he wore tied to his wrist and all the poor monsters he slew and then how he was a gentle man and true. For a mercenary, Tolya is disturbingly maudlin.” She spoke.

 Alina laughed and glanced back

“How is David liking it?” 

“David is oblivious. He’s been babbling about mineral compounds for the last hour.”

 “Maybe he and Tolya will just put each other to sleep,” Zoya grumbled. 

Even the two inferni had become insufferable. Stigg didn’t want Harshaw near him because he couldn’t stand cats and kept slipping to Anaya's side in attempts of conversating with her. Though he remained unsuccessful at all times.

Adrik was supposed to stay near the middle of the group, but he wanted to be close to Zoya. Zoya kept slipping away from the head of the column to try to get away from Adrik.

Harshaw liked to drag his flint along the cave walls, sending off little sparks, and he was constantly slipping bits of hard cheese out of his pocket to feed Oncat, then chuckling as if the tabby had said something particularly funny. 

One morning, they’d woke to find that he’d shaved the sides of his scalp so that his crimson hair ran in a single thick stripe down the center of his head.

 “What did you do? You look like a deranged rooster!” Zoya shrieked 

But he just shrugged. “Oncat insisted.” 

Anaya had an intense urge of screaming at all of them but she knew it would be of no use as they would still continue to be insufferable idiots.

Still, the tunnels occasionally surprised them with wonders that rendered even Anaya speechless. They’d spend hours with nothing to look at but gray rock and mud-covered lime, then emerge into a pale blue cave so perfectly round and smooth that it was like standing inside a giant enamel egg. 

They stumbled into a series of little caves glittering with what might well have been real rubies. Genya dubbed it the Jewelbox, and both her and Alina took to naming all of them to pass the time. 

There was the Orchard, a cavern full of stalactites and stalagmites that had fused together into slender columns. And less than a day later, they came across the Dancehall, a long cave of pink quartz with a floor so slippery they had to crawl over it, occasionally sliding to their bellies. Then there was the eerie, partially submerged iron portcullis they called the Angelgate. It was flanked by two winged stone figures, their heads bent, their hands resting on marble broadswords.

Anaya wondered how all of that’d come to be there.

                                                     .........................................................................................................

 Zoya and Anaya had been complaining to each other about their entire crew's behaviour when the first explosion hit.

The whole cavern shook. Little rivulets of pebbles clattered down on them.

 Zoya grabbed Anaya’s arm in an instant, yanking her away from the falling rocks.

 “Lights out!” Mal shouted. “Packs off.” 

They shoved their packs against the walls as a kind of buttress, then doused the lanterns in case the sparks set off another explosion. 

Another explosion sounded

Both Anaya and Zoya were now at Alina’s side.

Long seconds passed. 

Another explosion hit. 

This one was closer, louder. Rocks and soil rained down on their bent heads.

 “He found us,” Sergei moaned, his voice ragged with fear. 

“He couldn’t have,” Zoya protested.

 “Even the Apparat didn’t know where we were headed. It’s a random attack,” Mal spoke.

"Not the most ideal way to meet one's demise" Anaya murmured

 They heard the smatter of pebbles. 

Genya’s voice trembled when she whispered, “That cat is bad luck.” 

Another explosion sounded, loud enough to almost burst their eardrums

“Metan yez,” David spoke. Marsh gas. 

Anaya smelled it a second later, peaty and foul. 

If there were Inferni above them, a spark would follow and blow them all to bits. Someone began to cry.

 “Squallers, send it east.” Mal commanded 

Zoya moved, she and the others sending a rush of air to drive the gas away from them. 

Boom. 

It’d suddenly gotten hard for them to breathe. 

 Anaya’s ragged breathing echoed throughout the cavern.

The space seemed too small. 

“Oh, Saints,” Sergei quavered. 

“I see flame!” Tolya shouted. 

“Send it east,” repeated Mal in a steady voice. 

The Squaller wind followed. 

Anaya heard a sob from Zoya’s side. She held her hand without further thought, as she felt Alina’s on her own. 

Boom

Another one

This time the whole tunnel roared with the sound of falling rock.

 Anaya heard people shouting in the dark as dust filled her lungs. 

When the noise stopped, Mal said, “No lanterns. Alina, we need light.”

The girl summoned a thread of sunlight and let it blossom through the tunnel.

 They were all covered in dust, eyes wide and frightened. 

“Tolya?” shouted Mal. 

Nothing. 

“We’re all right.” Tolya’s voice came from behind the wall of fallen rock blocking the tunnel, but it was strong and clear.

“Where’s my brother?” Nadia yelled . 

He’s here with me and Tamar,” he replied.

 “Sergei and Stigg?” Alina asked. 

“I don’t know.” 

A wave of panic rushed towards Anaya.

When no other explosion came, they scrambled towards Tolya’s voice as he and Tamar dug from the other side. In a matter of moments, they saw their hands, then their dirty faces staring back at them. The twins scooted into their section of the tunnel. 

As soon as Adrik dropped his hands, the ceiling above where he and the twins had been standing collapsed in a billow of dust and rock. He was shaking badly.

“You held the cave?” Zoya asked. 

Tolya nodded. “He made a bubble as soon as we heard that last boom.”

 “Huh, I’m impressed.” Zoya said to Adrik.

 At the elation that burst over his face, she groaned. “Never mind. I’m downgrading that to grudging approval.” 

“Sergei? Stigg?” Anaya called out

 Silence, the shift of gravel.

 “Let me try something,” said Zoya. 

She raised her hands. 

Anaya heard a crackling in her ears, and the air seemed to have grown damp. “Sergei?” she said. Her voice sounded weirdly distant.

Anaya suddenly realized what she’d been doing. She remembered a trick the squallers used to do in back in school.

 Then she heard Sergei’s voice, weak and trembling, but clear, as if he were speaking right beside her. “Here,” he panted. 

“It sounds like it’s coming from below us.” David said

 “Maybe not, the acoustics can be misleading.” Zoya replied.

 Mal moved farther down the passage. “No, he’s right. The floor in their segment of the tunnel must have collapsed.”

 It took them nearly two hours to find them and dig them out.Tolya hefting the soil, Mal calling directions, the Squallers stabilizing the sides of the tunnel with air as Alina maintained a dim illumination, the rest forming a line to move rocks and sand. 

When they found Stigg and Sergei, they were covered in mud and nearly comatose. 

“Lowered our pulses,” Sergei mumbled groggily. “Slow respiration. Use less air.” Tolya and Tamar brought them back, raising their heart rates and flushing their lungs with oxygen.

 “Didn’t think you’d come,” Stigg slurred. 

“Why?” cried Genya, gently brushing the dirt from around his eyes. 

“He wasn’t sure that you’d care,” Harshaw spoke from behind. 

There were mumbled protests and some guilty looks. But they had been thinking of Stigg and Harshaw as outsiders. And Sergei, he had been lost for a while now.

When Sergei and Stigg could walk, they headed back to the more intact part of the tunnel. One by one, the Squallers released their power, as they waited to see if the ceiling would hold so they could rest. 

They brushed the dust and grime off one another’s faces and clothes as best they could, then passed a flask of kvas around. Stigg clung to it like a baby with a bottle. 

"You alright?" Anaya asked him

"Yeah". A swift grin appeared on his face, a rare sight.

“Everyone okay?” Mal asked. 

“Never better,” Genya said shakily.

 David raised his hand. “I’ve been better.” 

They all started laughing.

 “What?” he said. 

“How did you even do that?” Nadia asked Zoya. 

“That trick with the sound? It’s just a way of creating an acoustical anomaly. We used to play with it back in school so we could eavesdrop on people in other rooms.”

Genya snorted. “Of course you did.”

 “Could you show us how to do it?” Adrik asked . 

“If I’m ever bored enough.”

 “Squallers, are you ready to move again?” Mal said

  They all nodded. 

“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Mal said. 

Alina lit the way. They were still wary of what surprises might be waiting for them. They moved with utter caution, the Squallers on alert, and Anaya occasionaly updating them of the humidity to be sure of how near the surface they were. But still, they barely had any idea of where they’d been.

They were well off the map that David and Mal had created. Every sound seemed magnified. Every fall of pebbles made them pause, frozen, waiting for the worst. If the earth came down and the Squallers’ powers failed, they would be crushed and no one would ever know. 

Eventually, they became aware that the grade of the floor had turned steep. And Anaya soon informed them of the rate of the humidity. They were almost back on the surface. 

Some sighed in relief, there were a few quiet cheers, and less than an hour later, they found themselves crowded into some kind of basement room, looking up at the bottom of a trapdoor. The ground was wet there, pocked by little puddles, signs that they must be close to the river cities. 

Tolya pulled David’s old watch from the pocket of his coat. “If this thing is keeping time right, we’re well past sunset.”

 “You have to wind it every day,” David spoke.

 “I know that.” 

“Well, did you?”

 “Yes.” 

“Then it’s keeping time right.” 

Tolya appeared as he might just throw David off in the opposite direction of the tunnel.

“With our luck, someone will be setting up for midnight mass.” Zoya sniffed.

 Many of the entrances and exits to the tunnels were found in holy places, but not all of them. For all they knew, there could be a whole army of nichevo’ya waiting for them above. But it seemed like a better option to Anaya then staying down there any longer.

Mal believed the explosions had been a random attack on the tunnels, and that was the only thing that made sense. The Apparat couldn’t know where they'd be or when. And even if the Darkling had somehow found out that they were headed for Ryevost, why bother using bombs to drive them to the surface? He could just wait for them to turn up there.

 “Let’s go, I feel like I’m suffocating.” Alina spoke

 Mal signaled for Tolya and Tamar to flank her. 

“Be ready,” he said to them. “Any sign of trouble, you get her out of here. Take the tunnels due west as far as you can.” 

It was only after he’d started climbing the ladder that Anaya realised they’d all hung back, waiting for him to go first. Tolya and Tamar were both more experienced fighters, and Mal was the only otkazat’sya among them. Yet he was the only one taking the risk.

At the top of the ladder, he gestured down at Alina, and she released the light, pitching them into darkness.

 Anaya heard a thump, the sound of hinges straining, then a soft grunt and a creak as the trapdoor opened. No light flooded down, no shouts, no gunfire.

 Her heart was hammering in her chest, as she anticipated for the worst to happen.

 They followed the sounds of Mal levering himself up, his footfalls above us. Finally, Anaya heard the scrape of a match, and light bloomed through the trapdoor. Mal whistled twice, the all clear. 

One by one, they ascended the ladder. A chill went up Anaya’s spine as she headed up.

The room was hexagonal, its walls carved from what looked like blue lapis, each studded with wooden panels painted with a different Saint, their golden halos glinting in the lamplight. The corners were thick with milky cobwebs. Mal’s lantern rested on a stone sarcophagus. 

They were in a crypt. 

“Perfect, from a tunnel to a tomb. What’s next, an outing to a slaughterhouse?” Zoya said

“Mezle,” David said, pointing to one of the names carved into the wall. “They were an old Grisha family. There was even one of them at the Little Palace before-”

 “Before everyone died?” put in Genya helpfully. 

“Ziva Mezle, she was a Squaller.” Nadia said quietly.

 “Can we host this salon somewhere else?” Zoya asked. “I want to get out of here.”

 The door looked like heavy iron. Tolya and Mal braced their shoulders against it as the rest arrayed themselves behind them, hands raised, Inferni with their flints ready, Anaya with a blade summoned.

 Alina took her position in back

 “On three,” Mal said.

 A burble of laughter escaped Alina. Everyone turned. 

 “Well, we’re probably in a graveyard, and we’re about to come charging out of a tomb.” she spoke

"Perhaps we would be declared as 'Saints risen from the dead'" Anaya added in a dramatic tone

“Good point. Let’s lead with ooooooo.”  Mal said with a slight grin

 He then nodded at Tolya. “Stay low.” He counted down, and they shoved. 

The bolts shrieked, and the tomb doors flew open.

 They waited, but there were no sounds of alarm to greet them. Slowly, they filed out into the deserted cemetery. This close to the river, people buried their dead aboveground in case of flooding. The tombs, arrayed in tidy rows like stone houses, gave the whole place the feel of an abandoned city. A wind blew through, shaking leaves free from the trees and stirring the grasses that grew up around the smaller grave sites. 

The whole surrounding was quite gloomy, but Anaya didn’t care. She let out a heavy sigh, as she felt the warm brush of air on her skin. 

Even though, they’d gone through all kinds of trouble to attain the luxury of being on the surface again, she believed it was worth it. 

For the first time in months, she felt hopeful.

#nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x oc

[mysticmiav]

I was also thinking about who was who in other universes, and I had a few options for Kaz because, frankly, he fits almost every category.

1- not a magician.

2 airbender, because in his bandit past he was a spider and, in fact, before his injury, he performed the duties of Inej.

3- A water mage... here is one of the most interesting things: being a water mage and not really realizing it, he was able to survive in that very barge.But due to acquired haptophobia in the subconscious and consciousness, he abandoned his gift, got scared, hated it, and giving up magic is like Grisha giving up on himself.

4 earthbender. Supposedly he feels vibrations through a cane. And this guy is damn stubborn.

5 - fire magician, which is also very interesting and how water also suits him. explosive temperament, which must be controlled by a person. the way he grew up in anger, then how ambitious he is. What made him go through all the crap in life is firebenders are the only element that can recreate itself not from the outside, but from within itself, the inner fire.+ There will be a connection with Wylan.

I also used to create aesthetics on one social network, and I had 9 pictures in which the theme was “Kaz Grisha, who controls water”, with your permission I can leave a link/collage(In another message from Anon)

/the guy who wrote that your work is just sweet/

Uwah I love all these ideas sm omg!!!

Am def digging either the water mage or the fire magician ones!!

Tbh all work really well but those 2 I feel like would reallyyy work for the reasons you've mentioned

Definitely feel free to link or leave the images!! I'd love to see them👀

/and thank you again for your sweet message(s) and for starting this brainrot <3/

#mia talks #soc #atla au #soc x atla #kaz

[gruzeburya]

         AN ALTERNATE CRIME VERSE....      THE WITCH OF WHISPERS, WILL SEE YOU NOW      𓆩 ' 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘴

when zoya’s grisha power reveals itself to her on her wedding day in defense of lilyana instead of being rushed off to the capital she returns to novokribirsk with her aunt.   it is there that they formulate a plan to send her to os kervo to begin an apprenticeship with an herbalist there.   by the age of thirteen they have saved up enough money to send zoy.   a away and she begins her journey to the port city.   she does not last as an apprentice for long,    her eyes were always set on the true sea and where it could take her.   she began to save up money to book passage aboard a ship but eventually she grew impatient and at the rate she was saving it would be years before she could leave the city.   a year passes,    and when she is fourteen she finally builds up the courage to sneak aboard a trade vessel headed to kerch.   when she arrives in ketterd.   am she has the little money she has saved up and a collection of kerch words she had gathered from her instructor in os kervo.   it was scarcely enough to get her around but it was just the right amount for her to stay at a halfway house and gather her bearings.   

they begin to think her ghezen-touched...   two years have passed and she is a long-sought after asset.   this was not an overnight success though it had started as an accident after lingering around the exchange for longer than usual she had begun to hear whispers...    of the very interesting sort.   talk of shares and the flow of money none of it was luck though many of the traders spoke of it like it was such.   glorified gambling,    some men went to the tables in the barrel and others came here to these hallowed halls to do the same.    she was privy to where the kruge would land by using her summoning to manipulate acoustics she was able to find out what shares were being bought and sold long before anyone else.   in learning the value of the information she could provide she began to monetize her services under the guise of “financial advising”.   her business grew but so did the target on her back as she was a young girl living alone in a foreign city.   many attempts to kidnap her and force her to perform her services free of charge were made,    though unsuccessfully.   this is when she meets felix meijer,    a kerch merchant with ties to the zemeni jurda trade.   

enter,    the hidden sapphire of ketterdam.   she is eighteen and living in the meijer mansion in the financial district at the height of luxury.   in the years prior she had gotten close to the merchant in hopes to uncover the unsavory about his trade ties and it was not long before she did.   the grisha girl had found that he was selling the jurda he was receiving from overseas at a higher rate than agreed upon thus pocketing a hefty sum in his name while paying off his partners the lesser agreed upon percentage of the earnings.   zoya used this information as blackmail and in exchange for keeping meijer’s secret he would set her up in his home and give her the title of mistress.   this new status would allow her a certain degree of protection and let the other traders know that there would be consequences if harm were to come to her.   it gives her more freedom than a marriage and also allows her some degree of mobility in ketterdam high society.   she carries on this way for years no longer using her talents for anyone outside of meijer’s circle though she will consider lending her services to the highest bidder...   

⊹  CURRENT WHEREABOUTS:   zoya is in the process of cutting out the middleman.    her arrangement with meijer is beginning to prove more trouble than it is worth.    she currently is attending ketterdam university studying economics but also befriending the sons and daughters of merchants from all over the world.   this is also her way of beginning to establish her own network outside of the financial district.    she is finding a way to doctor meijer's will so all his assets will be left to her upon his death.    before orchestrating his murder she begins to blackmail the house staff and security with her gathered secrets slowly changing the loyalty of those in her direct environment.  

* IT IS IMPERATIVE HER STATUS AS GRISHA REMAIN A SECRET IN THIS VERSE OR IT RISKS TAKING DOWN THE WHOLE OF HER OPERATION.

#v; ketterdam

[dhampiravidi]

another "Save Shadow & Bone" idea!

ok but WHAT IF the beloved cast of S&B took the script for the show's S3 (since we know it's done & the showrunner loves it) & just did the 1st few episodes on YouTube, virtually?

it'd be FUNNY, obviously--while in quarantine, a lot of actors did some small, silly shows online. moreover, fans already LOVE the cast & we want more content.

picture Jessie w/dark eyeshadow the more she makes morally corrupt decisions. Amita w/kitchen knives when necessary. Ben doing SFX (apparently he actually did them for the nichevo'ya & well...who knows when Aleksander would be played by him again, except maybe in flashbacks). all the Grisha people have tons of practice doing their gestures for the Small Science, so *cue physical improv*

anyway, I think it'd be a great way to show how much people want to watch more Shadow & Bone (aside from the petitions, which are awesome but only take a second to sign)! all the more reason for another network to pick things up again w/the same cast!

#admin #shadow and bone #shadow & bone #netflix #netflix shadow and bone #save shadow and bone #s&b #fantasy shows #fantasy #youtube #shows #tv shows #television #scripts #virtual #tw: covid mention #covid mention: tw #quarantine mention tw #tw: quarantine mention #leigh bardugo #six of crows #grishaverse #jessie mei li #amita suman #ben barnes #freddie carter #archie renaux #patrick gibson #daisy head #danielle galligan

[reroutingnetwork]

After we finished our coverage of the second season of Shadow and Bone last episode, this time we talked about the Shadow and Bone book trilogy that started the Grisha-Verse. Well, first we went on some tangents for a bit and then our discussion of the three books went a little all over the place. Which is why this episode is longer than our average episode. But we had a lot of fun talking about the books and comparing them to the show.

Hopefully we'll soon do a similar episode about the Six of Crows duology and eventually (when more than just Laila read both books) the King of Scars duology. If you have any thoughts on those books, we'd love to hear them so send them in.

Listen to the episode on:

Apple Podcast -- Google Podcasts -- Amazon Music/Audible

#new episode #rerouting network #rerouting network podcast #shadow and bone #s&b #the grisha trilogy #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #shadow and bone books #book podcast #ruin and rising #siege and storm #Spotify

[theloonatic]

(Fic!Posting)

@yes-i-exist-shutup and other moots, here is the intro chapter of my fic:

It was a new dawn on Ravka. Everyone woke up to the news, whispered in streets, yelled in squares, and spoke about in every city and house. Using Fjerdan tank samples, the scientists of Ravka had worked out how to make vehicles run on a combination of coal and orange oil extracted from jurda flowers. The Ravkan railway steam trains were born, a two way network to revolutionise travel. Their painted carriages, the white smoke, like little clouds, that bellowed from the smokestacks and the dazzling iron rails enraptured and lured the population. Unfortunately, those powerful people up north and down south were thinking too.

The Yellow Covenant was perhaps the worst thing to befall two countries, to control them through the scientists of Shu Han and the Druskelle in Fjerda. They were always a thorn in the side of science, and were no different than when they created the Black Wagons; efficient, quick, fast enough to catch up to any poor bastard in their way. They were coated in black sheets, only coloured with the emblem of the organisation, a double tiered yellow cross, and sometimes the druskelle wolf as well.

You see, the despicable men of this world always caught up to good creations like this, like swarms of flies always catch up to corpses. They caught up to the corpse of jurda parem too, a chemical supposed to help grisha, turned into the most horrifying weapon in decades. This was an era painted orange with jurda parem, with jurda oil, and red with blood. Not blood of heroes, but the blood of the weak, of the unwanted, of children. Of those who couldn't catch up to the roaring machines of supposed progress. Those left behind, while the ones at the front mocked and laughed. But no more would they run and hide from these flies of men. There was revolution in the blood of those people. And revolution they had.

#soc #grishaverse #grishaverse fic #fugitives of flies #i did a communism

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Personally I think the best bet for Grishas is to form secret societies and live like vampires. Be in contact with and support each other because being in hiding alone is difficult especially with the risk of wasting sickness but let the humans think you were nothing but a myth. Which will happen. Over time. Any other scenario seems like a temporary fix. This is more permanent.

I don’t have any particular ideas about how to “fix” the world tbh! I think anything will end up posing its own problems one way or another, because politics and life kind of just be like that. And even permanence is purely a matter of scale; if we’re talking about a large enough frame of time, it ceases to really be a thing at all.

However, this idea seems rather close to what we see in Demon in the Wood, no? It did sound like Baghra and Aleksander, living in complete isolation, were the outliers. That being said, having any sort of robust communication or support network between the pockets of secret societies would require resources and competence to implement. Meanwhile the wider and more sophisticated the network of communication, the more in danger of discovery by the general populace they will be. It’s a trade off. Are we valuing the support network more or the security of isolation? How far in either direction? How are the resources for the network even being obtained and is that feasible/practical over just not really trusting people outside of your secure pocket community?

It also doesn’t help that being Grisha isn’t a surefire hereditary thing. So unknown quantities joining in, and also threats of random children coming into their power outside of the pocket communities and blowing everyone’s cover will be a given.

Assuming a very particular trajectory of in-universe cultural and social progression, I could easily see a typical urban fantasy genre style of underground magic society/“masquerade” situation arise. (Like with vampires!) But I do think that would be highly dependent on the right people with the right resources existing at necessary junctures, everyone collectively choosing to hide their power at the same time, and also some sort of larger scale enlightenment movement that pushes the average person to disbelieve magic. And even then there would be a high threat of discovery unless the said network of societies have a shit ton of resources and the inclination to use them in that way. But like it’s feasible as a worldbuilding route.

Frankly, you could very easily port over the entire Grishaverse to a modern Urban Fantasy environment, with the Darkling as the corrupt wizard leading the underground society of magic users. Who’s just very zealous about remaining secret from the general population.

Whether it’s a “better” solution would depend on what we’re prioritizing here? But I don’t think it would be that much more permanent than the canon situation.

#idk does this make sense? #I’m trying to say that it’s all very relative and dependent on one’s individual values (in universe) #and from a top down perspective what kind of story is being told #grishaverse #shadow and bone #meta #i ramble sometimes #all the bendy punctuations #a mysterious stranger has appeared

[lassieposting]

Things Kirigan and Kaz have in common:

- Fashion Sense: Both like understated elegance, relying on flattering cuts and quality fabrics to project an air of status and wealth. Both favour black with metallic accent colours (gold, silver, copper, brass). Both appreciate a good brocade.

- A Beloved Pet Dumbass: Kaz has Jesper and his gambling addiction. Kirigan has Nikolai and his complete lack of self-preservation.

- Touch Aversion: specifically as a result of childhood trauma.

- Devotedly Loyal #2: Ivan for Kirigan, Jesper again for Kaz.

- Missing Sibling: Kaz is a little brother without a big brother, and Kirigan is a big brother with a little sister he only sees rarely.

- Heart Eyes For Wifey: Inej for Kaz, Alina for Kirigan.

- Tactical Minds: Strategy is Kirigan's literal job and Kaz has a talent for outmanoeuvring his enemies - he plans the Crows' heists.

- Snark Knight In Dented Armour Personality: They're both deeply traumatised, broken men with massive trust issues who are nonetheless charismatic, fiercely loyal and very protective of those they care for. Kaz uses his influence to protect his crows, and rescues Inej from the Menagerie. Kirigan is a living shield between Fjerda/Shu Han/the less tolerant Lantsov kings and Ravka's Grisha population, and he's willing to take on his own merzost monsters to protect Alina.

- Power & Influence: Kaz is the head of his gang of criminals, vaguely analogous to a mob boss. Kirigan runs an army. Both are lonely, isolating, high-pressure roles where they are surrounded by underlings, not equals.

- Childhood Circumstances: Kaz was left homeless and destitute in a dangerous, degenerate city after Jordie lost their money and subsequently died. Kirigan was raised as a hunted minority, impoverished and perpetually on the move. They'd likely share some essential childhood skills; sleight of hand, light fingers, a flexible interpretation of personal property, cheating at cards, etc. Skills they could've used to feed themselves when nothing else would.

With that in mind:

Friendship Thoughts

- They're (officially - no one here has forgotten The Bomb Incident) introduced by Nikolai post-war. Sturmhond has done contract work for Kaz in the past - mostly overseas couriering of dubiously legal merchandise - and likes to drink at the Crow Club when he's docked in Ketterdam.

- Kaz recounting the story of his triumph over Pekka Rollins, however many years in the making, over a civilised glass of whiskey with the same kind of savage satisfaction Kirigan recognises from finally winning a brutal, drawn-out campaign.

- (Kirigan advises him to take in the Rollins boy, and be a kind mentor to him. Leaving him with the Dime Lions who are loyal to his father allows them to make him your enemy. Taking him prisoner and mistreating him does the same thing yourself. Far better to control both the boy and the narrative he's told from a young age. Trust him, Mr. Brekker, he has made that mistake with so. Many. Princes. Harmless boys will come back as angry men to bite you in the arse.)

- Deep, involved debates and discussions on tactics and strategy. Kirigan is an incredibly powerful Grisha and, while he grew up in the dirt, has spent centuries as a supposed "nobleman" and politically influential advisor to the Ravkan crown. Kaz spent much of his life as a penniless, powerless Barrel rat clawing his way out of the gutter with nothing but his wits. They approach the same problem from very different perspectives with very different assumed-available resources and see things the other would miss.

- Nikolai inviting Kaz to fancy Ravkan balls like it's a fucking play date. Kirigan can introduce him to a whole new network of wealthy investors if he wants to grow his business interests, open up a new echelon of society. And when they're not doing that, they can hide out in the corner being antisocial and judging everyone else's fashion choices.

- Long, dry letters exchanged across an ocean. Kaz sends a page and a half of Trouble Jesper Has Gotten Into Lately to Os Alta, in miniscule, italicised handwriting. After a few weeks, he receives three swirly, copperplate pages of Stupid Shit Niko Has Done This Month in return. For both of them, this is mostly entertainment, a brief break from an endless stream of boring paperwork to snort at the antics of someone else's idiot.

- Swapping skillsets. Kaz has plenty of his own informants in Ketterdam, but will sometimes write to tap into the Darkling's extensive, notoriously on-the-ball spy network, if foreign intelligence will be useful for a job. In exchange, he'll use his criminal network now and then to get Kirigan things from the black market - explosives, firearms, supplies Ravka is running low on, escaped Grisha indentures - on the quiet.

- Corecloth suits for Kaz. Fancy court waistcoats with Kerch embroidery for Kirigan. Swapping tailor recommendations. It sounds snarky, like they're subtly dunking on each other, but they're enjoying themselves. Jesper and Nikolai can simultaneously bond over being flamboyant and debonair.

- Nikolai learns quickly not to play cards with either of them. He knows how to cheat well enough, but Kaz and Kirigan are playing 5D Cheating Chess with sleight of hand, crimped cards and gaslighting, and if he keeps at it he'll lose everything down to his trousers. It's always the quiet ones.

- Mutual grousing about how inconvenient Feelings are. These two sat at the bar in the Crow Club downing shots while Kaz laments that Inej left him to go adventuring and Kirigan tries to explain that Alina murdered him but he got better. Plenty of salty side-eye aimed at Wylan and Jesper, being cute and couply at the Makker's Wheel table.

- "...is that a De Kappel?" "It is. What of it?" "I met him, once. About thirty, thirty-five years ago. He came to paint Pyotr's wedding portrait." "My wraith procured that one for me." "Ugh, perhaps you could have her procure ours, as well. It's still hanging in the throne room. I'm tired of seeing his pug face every time I report to Nikolai."

#soc #kaz brekker #aleksander kirigan #listen i live for kaz/kirigan friendship they have so much in common #sab headcanons #sab

[ncisfranchise-source]

NCIS AGENTS UNITE IN D.C. TO ATTEND THE RETIREMENT PARTY OF A BELOVED PROFESSOR, BUT FIND THEMSELVES INVESTIGATING HIS SHOCKING SUICIDE, ON “NCIS,” MONDAY, JAN. 2

The Episode Kicks Off a Three-Episode “NCISverse” Crossover Event

“Too Many Cooks” – NCIS agents from Washington, D.C., L.A. and Hawai’i, all in D.C. to attend the retirement party of a beloved Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC) professor, find themselves investigating his shocking suicide, on the CBS Original series NCIS, Monday, Jan. 2 (8:00-9:00 PM, ET/PT) on the CBS Television Network and available to stream live and on demand on Paramount+*. The episode is part one of a three-episode NCISverse crossover event with NCIS: LOS ANGELES and NCIS: HAWAI’I.

REGULAR CAST:

Sean Murray

(NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee)

Wilmer Valderrama

(NCIS Special Agent Nicholas “Nick” Torres)

Brian Dietzen

(Medical Examiner Jimmy Palmer)

Diona Reasonover

(Forensic Scientist Kasie Hines)

Katrina Law

(NCIS Special Agent Jessica Knight)

Rocky Carroll

(NCIS Director Leon Vance)

Gary Cole

(FBI Special Agent Alden Parker)

GUEST CAST:

Vanessa Lachey

(Special Agent Jane Tennant)

Noah Mills

(Special Agent Jesse Boone)

Chris O’Donnell

(Special Agent Grisha Callen)

LL COOL J

(Special Agent Sam Hanna)

Robert Picardo

(Retired Marine Gunnery Sergeant Dale Harding)

Brianna Reed

(Libby)

Tim Rock

(Fletc Instructor Cambria)

Stephanie Hodge

(Greta Ford)

Kevin Changaris

(Simon Williams)

Joe Chambrello

(Kidnapper)

WRITTEN BY: Christopher J. Waild

DIRECTED BY: Michael Zinberg

#ncis #ncis hawaii #ncis la #press release