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ven-brekker · 1 year

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The dead man, the skeleton, and the boy

"'Whatever they made you do, that - thing - they made you take, we can fix it. I promise.' ... Anya nodded. 'But first, I fix you.'"

So as we all know, side characters are my beloved, so the prospect of a Joost/Anya fic spoke to me spiritually. The art is incredible and I was so lucky to work with such amazing artists!

Materialki: @sunshinesartisticquirk (here)

Full fic posted under the cut

Joost was twenty two when he died, and mere moments older than that when he was reborn.

The funny thing about death is that it is, wholly, not at all like one would expect it to be. Many such ideas come to mind: that it is survivable, for instance, but what Joost has most of all found is that he anticipated death to be lonely. This has not been the case.

For much of his life, Joost feared death, largely because of this assumption. He was always a social boy, chatting with the other children on the streets as they would kick balls about the alleyways. Loneliness was far more terrifying than the prospect of finite nothingness itself. He now often thinks how much of a waste it was that he spent his life in the service of a man who cared not for him, alone, and how now in death he has found a connection that surpasses mortality.

For a long time, he believed death to be a visible part of nature. Ketterdam, especially, fuelled these beliefs, for it knows death well. Death is said to hang over the city like a thick fog, graying its blue skies and blackening its light air. The city produced it, and it rose above it alongside the factory smoke and soot. It was as large a trade as cloth or machinery or grisha.

Now, a mere month and a half after his legal death, Joost has escaped the dark fog entirely. The skies seem clearer and bluer without it; the sun shines brighter and the air feels crisper. He is happier.

It could be said that that foul stench of his own mortality, the same one that he found a constant for the past twenty odd years, was not death, but rather the depressing smell of his own unbecomings and of the vileness of the city itself. He is glad to be rid of it. That odor has been replaced with a pleasant scent: of wild grass, baked goods, Anya’s sweet perfume.

He can remember the day he became free - and “dead” - clearer than the Shu waters. He remembers every detail. That day, and the following month, have been seated into his brain, branded like an indentured grisha.

He remembers the moon that night, how it sparkled in the same shimmer as Anya’s eyes. He remembers watching her moonlight eyes become swollen with the deep ink black of space. He remembers being flung back a hundred feet.

He loves sinking back into the past, into his memories. Often, Joost will find himself sat on the soft armchair by the windowsill, as golden light spills into the room, giving a warm glow to the deep oak floors and the painted walls. Through the walls, a whistling tune carries. His fingers comb his mustache, and he wistfully wonders how the moon shall look in the sky tonight.

His memories, of course, are his alone. But he has found that death and rebirth are no places for loneliness, and so he intends to share all that he can. Thus, perhaps more interesting than his recollection of events, is how he shares his stories. Luckily for him, his son always requests a bedtime story, and he has perfected the words over many nights.

Therefore, imagine the night, the moon. Imagine the enveloping darkness cut through by a small singular lamp at your bedside. Imagine being warm and safe and free, ready for a story. This is how Joost designed his to be told.

His story, as this one, begins with his death.

Before being reborn, there was nothing. He has memories of the before, but they pale in comparison to the after. Rebirth changed him. After he awoke from the nothingness, he rose to the darkness. He could not move nor speak, even breathing seemed an immense foreign struggle. It was as though he were in the grave - only, graves had long since gone out of fashion.

Over the deafening noise of ever-falling debris, he could hear the unmistakable rushing of Ketterdam’s coastal tides. The city was known for its allyship with the sea. If a war ever broke out between the two, Ketterdam would surely sink, left to rot under feet of cold water. However, there is an unspoken peace. The vastness of the sea splits into rivers that run through the streets, forming canals and bays of cobble. The rivers branch into streams, which run beneath the city’s foundations as roots to a tree, feeding it life and youth and joy. In the silence, though there was never much in Ketterdam, you could hear the faint trickle of water through layers of brick and stone.

Ketterdam’s streams were not the only waters that ran that night, for over the nearby crash of waves on the shore, Joost could hear the sound of sobs. His pain had subsided into a dull ache, and despite the screams from every muscle in his body, he was able to raise himself up slightly. Above him, a small slit in the rock and dust, just large enough for him to see through. Indeed, he was at the water’s edge. The rocky shore was sprayed with seawater in a routine swish, the pale moonlight casting idle glittering tracks over the inky surface as it drew in and out. The same moonlight illuminated a figure in the same ghostly glow.

Its back was to him, keeled over by the tide, huddling over something. It heaved, back rising as it cast out sobs. It seemed skeletal: the edge of its face carved to bone, the fabric of its dress hanging loose off its bony limbs. It wore a white bonnet, its chest covered in a gray vest and shawl, its arms adorned in blood-red from the garment underneath. It wailed with the passion of the universe behind it.

And Joost felt the overwhelming desire to help it.

He moved out the rubble. The stones scattered around him as he tried to right himself - the dust had caught in his chest, and he could not cough it out for fear of frightening the figure away. He behaved as one does when encountering a lone deer: only his prey was far more timid, and far more mesmerizing.

As quietly as he could, he exited his stone imprisonment. Indeed, “as quietly as he could” turned out to be “not quietly at all”, for when he stammered and hobbled to a pathetic stand, the debris crashed against the bay’s rocks in a loud crash. The figure did not startle.

He approached it, and still it did not seem to notice him: it only continued to whimper. Lost, delirious and consumed by a dull pain which was most certainly being inhibited by his own shock, Joost decided his best plan of action would be to crouch down next to the strange, thin skeleton. He, in truth, did not know why, other than that he felt called to it. It could have been a mermaid of northern legend, or a siren of an old kerch tale. Joost did not know what it was, only that in its decrepit body, the figure glowed as if lit from within by the moon itself, freckles on its frail skin evidence of planets and such.

He remained crouched for a moment, trying to gauge the danger of his situation. The figure remained huddled in on itself, its wails quieter now. It was only when Joost resigned himself to a seat that he realized three things: the figure was holding a child, he himself was almost certain that his wrist was fractured, and that the figure was indeed the love of his life.

“Anya,” he whispered, and she had turned then to face him. Her eyes swam the same inky black as the waves, and spilled tears of mountain blue. Her face was gaunt and sick with pallor, her lips cracked and stained orange. She raised a thin finger to them, then gestured down at the child.

“He needs sleep,” she croaked, her voice hoarse and barely scraping above a whisper. The boy could have been no older than ten, his head resting on Anya’s gray skirt, marking it with a spiral pattern of his deep brown curls. His thumb was in his mouth, and his face was calm with a sleeping peace only children can discover.

“We need to get out of here.” Joost whispered. She nodded weakly, as though the weight of her own head would overtake her and snap her backwards.

“Take him.”

“I will, and I’ll take you too.”

She looked at him with her black eyes.

“I won’t make it far. They’re looking for me - what I did --” she gasped; talking seemed to take more air than crying did.

“That’s why we need to get away,” the sea crashed against the rocks. “Anya, they will kill you. We can leave and be safe. Whatever they made you do, that - thing - they made you take, we can fix it. I promise.”

And suddenly, the words he could not find for weeks upon weeks rose to his head. He could talk without stuttering, or blushing, or overthinking. Perhaps that was the fault of pure adrenalin, or perhaps he had killed the old him.

Anya nodded. “But first, I fix you.” His pain disappeared, and the dead man, the skeletal girl and the sleeping boy slunk into the shadows of the night.

Later, Anya would tell him that she has never been in so much pain. That she had carried herself and the boy to the shore’s edge because the waves were the only sound that drowned out the deafening beat of her own blood and heart. She would also say that she came very close to killing him that night, for the itching, grating noise of his body moving and working, the smell of his muscle and flesh and blood, made her irrevocably and irreparably furious. She will also say, when asked, that she is very glad she did not.

The three stayed together in the Ketterdam shadows for a month before they managed to get out. The boy, Piet, had a strong fighting spirit, and got through the most harrowing situations with the few single comforts of sucking on his thumb, cowering in Joost’s chest, and letting Anya squeeze his hand and pet his hair. He hardly panicked when the Shu men with wings attacked the city and they decided to leave that same evening, nor when Anya’s screams of greed for the substance they knew so little of were so loud that she had to bite her own bonnet to muffle them.

Anya, of course, had the strength of a million Stadwatch soldiers. Often, Joost would wake in the early hours of the morning and light a candle, the only source of illumination in the dingy basement of an abandoned factory that they had co opted as their own, to find her sprawled on her bed, auburn hair matted and tangled, cheeks wet from the tears of effort it took to keep her wails and pleads quiet. For that month, her face remained gaunt and her body thin. More than once, she would lead Joost to her under the guise of needing a cool towel to keep her fever down, and would grab him in an attempt to knock him to the floor so that she could escape and find her mystery drug. Her attempt left her entire arm bruised blue and yellow.

One night, one of the few calmer ones, she told him that the orange drug had spawned an irreversible love for Piet, but that the past few weeks had formed an irrevocable love for him. She had kissed him then, and Joost does not think he has ever flushed a brighter red in his life.

The morning after, they left for the rural side of Kerch. Hidden under the cloth covering of a wagon, they rode for days until they reached the farm. Joost has always been an honest man, but thinks it is amazing what a month or so of dishonest work can buy a man. This is often something he leaves out of his stories to Piet.

Their farmhouse sat in the western fields, secluded for miles all around. Piet and Anya had both decided on the area, for Piet grew up tending nearby lands before being forced to move to the more affordable Ketterdam streets, and Anya found the land similar to that of the Ravkan ones she, too, grew up on before her indenture.

Now, they live a pleasant secluded life. Joost has learnt to tend the fields, but mostly he spends his time baking and writing, so that he may never lose his words and that Anya may never lose her health again. She retains the glow of the sun now, rather than the pallor of the moon, and her dark eyes speak of coffee more than of night terror.

It is a simple life, though it is not as lonely as one may think. It is almost unbelievable how many names upon the coroners’ records have equally found themselves in Joost’s abode - how many indentures broken by death can become liberated living men. Many of Anya’s old Ketterdam friends and colleagues particularly like the peace.

In all, Joost finds himself dreaming, day and night, and writing. He sits by the window each dusk and each dawn, waiting for the soft waken footsteps of Mrs. Van Poel and the morning yawn of their son. Death has given him the most pleasant life a man could ask for. He is content as a dead man with his skeleton wife and his boy.

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lilisouless · 1 year

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#grishaverse #squallers #netflix shadow and bone #leigh bardugo #zoya nazyalensky #nadia zhabin #adrik zhabin #emil retvenko

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pyreshe · 1 year

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at any given time I'm thinking about harshaw g.rishaverse,

#hes my scrunkly little guy!#'hes a secondary character in only one of the books' TO YOU.#to me he survived moved to ketterdam and was a secondary character in soc and jespers weird uncle figure #the crows are like 'gang wars and massive international crime' and he just 'fuck ya stick it to the old people'#retvenko and harshaw in little ravka staring at each other like 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

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retvenkos · 2 years

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What does your user mean

lol, retvenko was (rip) a side character in six of crows. he's a whole mood, and i wanted a SoC url so bad.

#asks #retvenko king you live on in my heart

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19burstraat · 3 months

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Random SOC Trivia I Gathered On My Reread

I'll be using this for fics, but it's fun just to read!

Jesper does not hold alcohol well (though this is according to Kaz, who is not exactly impartial)

Wijnstraat, Nemstraat, Havenstraat, Ammberstraat are all street names if you want em

Van Eck has been involved in trying to clean up the Barrel; pious. (Allegedly pious, I doubt he really is)

1/5 Van Eck (or general Kerch trading?) vessels are lost at sea

Kaz arrested three times at ten, twice at eleven, once at fourteen. Does stints in jail but it does not say prison (ppl assume he's been to Hellgate / another prison but I don't think so. He'd never have shut the fuck up about it if he had; I assume the Stadhall Jail)

Kaz's cane is lead-lined. I wasn't sure if this was canon or fanon

Kaz runs book on prize fights, horses, and chance games. Floor boss at crow club since fifteen-ish. Youngest to run a betting shop and has doubled the profits.

Gambling halls: Treasure Chest, Golden Bend, Weddell's Riverboat, Silver Garter

West Stave brothels: The Blue Iris, The Forge, The Obscura, the Willow Switch, the House of Snow

Van Aakster is the widow mercher who sees Nina to ease his grief

Inej likes orange cakes in white paper

Black Tips tattoo is a hand with first and second fingers cut at the knuckle, Razorgulls is 5 birds in wedge formation

Nina Jesper and Kaz definitely all have the crow and cup; the others don't

Jordie seems to like books

ridderspel and spijker are arcade games

Bilge, clams, and wet stone smell in the Barrel (per Retvenko)

Kaz definitely is partial to dogs; Smeet's hounds and the grey dog the Hertzoon household had, the windup dogs, the metaphors. He loves a dog metaphor sorry ur not real babycakes you'd have loved thematic web weaving posts

Geldspin is the cotton mill in Zierfoort, Firma Allerbest is a cannery. Both in Alys' name

Wylan was 8 when Marya 'died'

the black veil tomb is carved like an ancient cargo ship

3 flying fish on a grave: government. Palm trees and snakes: spices.

Inej's mother braids her hair with orange ribbons (colour of persimmons)

University a series of buildings built around the Boekcanal and joined by Speaker's Bridge (where people debate and/or drink). Boeksplein four libraries built around a central courtyard and the Scholar's Fountain

Shipping container at third harbour is a Liddie hideout; Jam Tart House is an old hotel near the slat that the Razorgulls use

Long scar across Kaz's right knuckle

Violating contracts and interfering with the market can get you hanged in Kerch; same sentences as for murder (this is. Insane)

Haskell holds court with his mates at the Fair Weather Inn every week

Belendt is the second oldest Kerch city and sits on the Droombeld River

Jesper was 7 when Aditi died

Inej has an uncle (who seems to have some sort of ringmaster role) and cousins; Hanzi and Asha

Kaz convinced a locksmith in Klokstraat that he was the son of a wealthy merchant who highly valued his collection of priceless snuffboxes, and that's how he knows what locks the rich are using

Hubrecht Mohren, Master Thief of Pijl, who Kaz doesn't appear to think much of; one of Haskell's old cronies

Martin Van Eck, Wylan's great great grandfather, was a ship's captain, brought back a big shipment of spices from Eames Chin and started the Van Eck fortune

Kaz and Jesper (+ other Dregs boys) taught Inej to fight

Kaz and Jordie are from a town near Lij, as per the 'Johannus Rietveld' exposition, but Lij is seemingly the closest major city/county so it's easier to just say they're from Lij lol

The last time the Council of Tides appeared in public was 25 years prior to CK

Kaz found Filip running a monte game on Kelstraat; he also got the clerks who turned over fake info, the fake attorney, the man who gave them free hot chocolate

The spelling of Zentzbridge lapses to Zentsbridge, not sure which is right or if they're actually separate bridges or if there's a lot of wrong quotes floating around lol

Dryden house symbol is the golden wheat sheaf bound with a blue ribbon; Van Eck is the red laurel but we knew that

Kaz taught himself finance and gambling hall rules

Church of Barter roof is copper and long has turned green

Church of Barter built around the First Forge / The Mortar, which is a flat lump of rock that's supposedly Ghezen's altar

Ghezendaal Hospital is. Idk. a hospital. Just thought ppl might want the name

#six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #soc duology #shadow and bone #my post

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multifandomfix · 6 months

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Innocence Lost — Anthony Bridgerton

Summary: You’ve just been married to Anthony and your wedding night approaches. You have some reservations, but Anthony makes all your anxieties melt away.

Word Count: 579

Warnings: Insecurity, some anxiety, light smut

At last, you were wed! You didn’t think the moment would ever come, and yet, now Anthony Bridgerton was finally all yours. You could have sworn that the smile on your face hadn’t broken since the pronouncement of you being joined as husband and wife. It brought a sense of joy that you never thought you could feel.

As the door to the carriage closed you and Anthony off from the happy crowd of well wishers, you dropped your hand from its ceaseless waving and let out a sigh of utter bliss as the muscles in your cheeks found some rest.

You looked to Anthony, and met his eyes, a silent exchange that conveyed multitudes. Joy, exhaustion and relief were felt simultaneously between you. There was only one thing that look didn’t convey.

It had hardly entered your mind until the carriage pulled to a stop. Now wed, you went to the Bridgerton’s countryside estate where you would be totally alone for the first time.

Your trip into the house was a blur. Anthony had taken your hand and led the way, but your mind, despite its tiredness, was elsewhere entirely.

Now, as you stood in the dimly lit bedroom, the anticipation in the air nearly suffocating. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the ornate wallpaper, and the lacy nightgown you wore felt both delicate and daunting. Your heart raced at the sound of the soft knock on the door. You heard yourself grant him entrance and then there he was. Anthony Bridgerton, your husband.

He stepped closer, the look in his eyes expressing the deepest tenderness, as he gently took your trembling hand. "My love," he begins, his voice soothing, as if he was able to sense your apprehension, "there's no need to be frightened. We can take things at whatever pace you require. I promise to cherish and protect you always."

Your anxiety begins to ease as his words wash over you like a warm embrace. Anthony's touch is gentle and reassuring as he guides you towards the bed. His eyes locked with yours, the safety in his gaze was unwavering, and his lips curled into a smile. "I don’t want to disappoint you,” you quietly confessed.

“Nor I you,” he replied. “Though I cannot promise you perfection, I can promise something else. My devotion to your pleasure.” You take a deep, shaky breath, feeling a shiver run down your spine. What once was insecurity was now replaced with desire and endless trust. You’d be just fine in Anthony’s hands and you don’t know why you ever doubted it.

As the two of you slowly made your way through the motions, you gave yourself over to him fully and he delivered on his promise. He took his time in warming you up, trailing kisses over your body, ghosting fingertips across the parts of your skin that he was able to see and touch for the first time.

When he finally entered you, the sensation was smooth and easy. The pain you’d heard of and feared was nonexistent. Anthony didn’t push, didn’t rush. He was gentle in accommodating himself to you and you to him.

You made love several times that night, each time leaving you just as satisfied as Anthony. As you lay by his side afterwards, you considered yourself lucky. Perhaps the luckiest women of the ton. You could lay with your husband knowing that your love will only grow stronger with each passing day.

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @nclgsticore, @ayanthegreat28, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @rukia-28, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @bitchr-mkay, @sparrowspixie

Anthony Bridgerton: @retvenkos, @ladyrooster39, @riveranddoctorsong123, @theamazingworldofcarol, @esposamultifandom, @elorasfandomsandocs, @littlsstuff, @freyathehuntress, @m-rae23, @floresferae, @onlinecemetery, @bigbluegiants, @edit-me-prettyplease, @angelmenace

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton one shot #request #send requests #requests open

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destourtereaux · 2 years

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home is a person - finnick odair x fem!victor!reader

summary: Y/N and finnick have been best friends since birth. when both your names are drawn for the third quarter quell, you must figure out a way to survive, or if it comes down to it, for finnick to survive.

wc: 2.4k | see request details here.

follow @lovebirdupdates to join my "taglist"!

GIF by @thranduilsperkybutt

a/n: kinda inspired by my dear olive (@retvenkos) bc she is just a superb writer for SO many fandoms. how do we even compare?

Some people believe in soulmates. Others don’t. But you? You had already found yours: goodness in the shape of a human named Finnick Odair.

The two of you had been friends since you were born and Finnick was two. Your mothers had been the best of friends and it had simply passed onto your generation. You and Finnick had grown up together, standing by each other through thick and thin. His sarcasm was never lost on you, and your wit made him every time.

When Finnick had to go to the Games, you were hysterical – screaming and sobbing, kicking and punching at the Peacekeeper who had to come escort you out of the crowd. And when he came back, you thought the worst had passed, that everything would go back to normal again, and it had… but only for 5 years. Then your name had been drawn, and Finnick had hugged you so tight it took three Peacekeepers to pry him away.

But you had survived too – emerged victorious. But at night, the memories came back. Endless nightmares that plagued your sleep, refusing to let you rest as the screams of those you killed tormented you. The only thing that helped was the weight and warmth of Finnick’s arms – almost like a shield against your trauma. He understood you wordlessly, and it had always been like that. The two of you against the world.

A year after you returned from the Games, your friendship evolved into its final stage, and feelings that were originally completely platonic slowly morphed into butterflies in your stomach and blushes on your cheeks. And when Finnick had asked you to be his girlfriend, it felt like you could finally see the sun again, like the clouds were clearing up and you had been given something to live for. Until now.

You turned the TV off once the dreadful Capitol reporter had finished announcing the theme for Panem’s third Quarter Quell: a Hunger Games between victors. You were silent in your disbelief. Not once had you ever thought you would have to return to the arena, and so soon, too. You were barely twenty-one, and you had won the games when you were seventeen, just four short years ago, not even half a decade.

Your family turned around to face you, their eyes melancholy, but you didn’t care. You didn’t feel much of anything to be honest. You should’ve known the Capitol wouldn’t let anyone escape their twisted little games.

Without a word, you ran outside, shoving open the door to your house. Finnick was already there, having hurried over as soon as he heard to check on you. When you saw him, you burst into tears, as if his very appearance had broken apart the dam holding back your fear. You collapsed onto him, shoulders wracked with your sobs.

“Y/N. Y/N. Look at me. It’s likely they won’t even pick us. Our District has a number of victors to choose from. Don’t be so scared, darling.”

He reaches a hand to your trembling cheek, wiping away the tears.

“But Fin… I can’t go back. I can’t- I just. And I can’t lose you either. Not an option.”

“I know, love, I know,” Finnick replies, as you nestle your head into the crook between his neck and shoulders. The two of you stay there for hours, as you cry yourself out and Finnick strokes your hair gently. “And remember,” Finnick whispers quietly so no one but you can hear, “I’ll always be with you. No matter what happens. You’re my forever.”

******

It was as though life thought you two had had it too good these past few years - and now you needed to pay it back in bad luck. Both yours and Finnick’s names had been drawn consecutively.

But even as you felt your world crashing down upon you, there was a strange sense of comfort in knowing you and Finnick would still be together.

And you knew — if it came down to it, you would kill yourself so he would live.

******

The interviews were over, and you felt the shock reeling through you from the victors’ shared display of rebellion. You let go of the hand belonging to the tribute on your right with a solemn nod, but you grasped the one in your left hand even more tightly.

“Princess, I’m losing circulation here,” Finnick teased, earning a glare from you as you wrenched your hand from his grasp.

The young man chuckled at your displeasure, pulling you into his side and muffling your protests. “I’m kidding. Please hold my hand again — come on. You know I was kidding!”

If only moments like these could last forever.

******

You wondered why the gods were so cruel. The arena turned out to be a clear lake surrounded by woods, putting you and Finnick at a distinct advantage. At best, you would gain the jealousy and rage of other tributes, and at worst, it would end with the two of you, each unafraid to self sacrifice for the other.

At least you had allies — Katniss and Peeta, who reminded you a lot of yourself and Finnick, and Johanna. But even though the group of you were relying on each other at the moment, there was an unspoken acknowledgement of the fact that an alliance could only last so long in the Hunger Games.

Your combined sponsors had sent you five a number of gifts, including food, and a spout for water from the trees. You had to give Katniss credit for figuring that out — she had definitely saved your lives.

Day after day, you count the cannon booms, until there are only 10 tributes left. Beetee and Wiress had been adopted into your group, much to the distaste of Johanna. The seven of you had grown closer over your time together, you and Katniss especially. She felt like a little sister to you; an extremely independent and brave little sister. You two would often share stories about your district and your families. It helped a lot, being able to talk to someone who understood how you felt.

When you and Katniss had your talks by the beach, Finnick and Johanna were off on their own. He told you he was finding water, but you knew they were hiding something.

******

On Day 15, you could tell Finnick was nervous. His whole demeanour had changed. He went from a solid cornerstone to a ball of restless energy.

“What’s wrong, Fin?” you probed, “you need to tell me. We’re in this together, remember?”

“I love you, Y/N. You know that right?”

“Of course I know that. I love you too. But what is going on? You’re scaring me.”

“It’s better if you know as little as possible. You’ll be safer. Trust me, love.”

You raise an eyebrow, perplexed, but you did trust him. That much had always been true.

For the rest of the morning, the alliance works together on building Beetee’s trap, hoping it would take care of the District 2 tributes.

Suddenly, a dagger whizzes past your year, forcing you to take a gulp of air as you dodge. Panting, you send a signal up into the air — meant to alert Beetee. But when nothing happens, you realize something has gone very, very wrong.

You send a spear soaring back to where the dagger had come from, slamming deep into a boulder. A scared Glimmer jumps out from behind and grins smugly at you.

With not a moment to spare, you sprint toward Beetee's hideout and spot him bleeding out on the forest floor, a red smile across his throat. You let out a scream — a mix of grief and rage. And that’s when it happens: an enormous explosion, red hot and booming, rocks the arena, and a hovercraft descends from the clouds like a gift from god.

I’m dead. They’re taking me to heaven, you think.

The last thing you remember is Finnick jumping into the hovercraft and pulling you up. You’re clawing at his arms, desperately trying to get on, before a pair of stronger arms yank down on your airborne legs, dragging you all the way down to hell.

******

And hell you entered. When you woke, gone were the scorching sun and shimmering waters of the arena. It was replaced by a glaring white room; even your clothes were pure white. You lifted yourself out of the hospital bed and made your way to the window on your left. There, in the neighbouring room, was Johanna, but she was almost unrecognisable. Her hair had been torn out in patches and her skin was a pale, ashy grey. You audibly gasped, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of your friend. It would be you next.

******

Finnick was beside himself with anguish. How could he have let you slip from his grasp like that? Slip right into the clutches of the demons from the Capitol. He clenched his fists so hard he drew blood, crescents of red on his palm that reminded him of his failures.

You were his person. You had been his since he was a tiny little toddler watching his mom coo over you in your mother’s arms. From then to now, the two of you had always been inseparable. He had protected you from the bullies at school and you had always taken good care of him when he didn’t care about himself.

He had let you down. Why had he been so focused on the stupid plan? Curse Haymitch. The world be damned. All that mattered was you. He should’ve saved you first.

The next day in the District 13 cafeteria, Finnick pushed his grey slop around in his bowl, avoiding eye contact with Katniss.

“Look up, Finnick. Now,” the girl suddenly commands, her voice the most authoritative he had ever heard.

He looks up instinctively, eyes catching on the TV screen. It was you. You and Peeta. You were in a white frock, legs crossed and an arm on your chair. Your lips were locked in a sickly fake smile as you delivered your message: “Katniss Everdeen. Finnick Odair. District 13 cannot and will not protect you for long.”

“Surrender, and you can still see the light of day,” Peeta adds, his words stilted, almost as though it pained him to speak.

As the screen began fading to black, a scuffle broke out. Your face, pale and frightened, gazed directly at the camera as you forced out a final message, “District 13. Here today, dead tomorrow.”

A crack was heard as you fell to the ground, and the signal cut off once and for all. Finnick was left staring at his own reflection in the dark screen, tears streaming down his cheeks.

President Snow, however, wasn’t affected by emotion, and she took your warning seriously. Ushering everyone down into the deeper floors, she shut the bunkers down completely and braced for impact.

By morning, more than 10 bombs had hit the District — each rattling the rooms. But Finnick paid all this no mind. He was too busy replaying your brief appearance on the TV. How skinny and sick you looked. The dark circles under your eyes were telling, and you looked so scared. It killed him. He didn’t deserve to live, while you died slowly by the day.

******

Every day for the next month, Finnick and Katniss got up early and knocked on the President’s door. He pleaded with them to please send a rescue team. To get you and Peeta and Johanna out of there. Out of hell.

On the last day of the month, the President agreed. “If this is what it takes for our little mockingbird to perform again, we’ll do it. But you’d better perform, Everdeen, once we save your little boyfriend.”

******

Both Finnick and Katniss were deemed unfit for the rescue team. Something about psychological and emotional instability. Finnick raged against this, but was drugged by a sheepish Gale. “We’ll be back before you know it, man. And your girl will wake you up.”

Finnick held onto those words like a dying man as he slipped under.

When he woke up, the compound was a mess of noise. Shouts came from everywhere. “Get the stretcher!” “Get me more of that endorphin!” and finally, “Y/N’s up. Someone! Go and find Finnick. Now.”

At this, Finnick jolted upright, jumping off of his bed. He rammed the door open and ran into a doctor coming to get him.

“Mr. Odair, I must warn you. Please don’t be so brash when you’re with her. Ms. Y/L/N has been through a lot this past month. You would do well not to alarm her.”

Finnick nods, breathless as he speeds up his pace. He turns a corner, then another, and there. He sees you at last. Your hair strewn across the pillow propping you up, a doctor examining your irises.

He stops out of shock for a second, before rushing to the door of the facility. The doctor accompanying him swipes a card to unlock the door, and within a second Finnick is at your side, down on both knees and cradling your hand.

You glance at him in surprise, before recognizing that it’s him. It’s your Finnick. He’s here, in the flesh.

“Fin? Is that really you?” you ask, in such a weak voice that makes Finnick want to sob.

“I’m here, darling. You’re safe now. We’ll never be apart again, my love. I guarantee it,” he chokes out, each word threatening to make him cry.

“Oh, Finny. I’m so happy. I’m so, so happy. I missed you so much,” you respond, in disbelief still.

The tears come silently this time, streaming slowly down your cheeks and falling into your hair. When Finnick sees this, he quickly gets up and embraces you, careful not to hurt you. Pulling back, he brushes your hair out of your face and wipes away your tears.

You’re reminded of a similar moment that happened just three months ago, although it seems like so much longer.

When Finnick places a gentle kiss on your forehead, you finally manage to process where you are. I’m home, you think. Because home, for you, is a person.

****** interested in other works of mine? see my masterlist!

#finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair imagines #finnick odair fic #finnick odair fics #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair oneshots #finnick odair reader insert #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x female reader #finnick odair x y/n #fic #writing #the hunger games #hunger games

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d4n1elll4 · 8 months

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KEITH KOGANE RECS

→ I don't own any of these works here. I just collected them in a single place so I (and maybe others) can find them easier. All the credits go to the authors. → Don't hesitate to notify me if any of the links don't work or anything. I'll make sure to solve the problem as fast as I can. → Check my Masterlist for more fandoms and recs. → Thank you and enjoy :) ❤️

part 2

he ate my heart by @vnmpior

i could be yours by @sukisheadlights

kinks by @writing-vld

shy by @vnmpior

space princess by @voltronisanobsession

say it again by @bbykeijis

sexy black dress by @savetheblackpaladin

wet dream by @palalovin

boyfriend hcs I by @keiffeine

make up by @kiwibirbs-library

boyfriend hcs II by @tamayakii

break out by @fandomlit

lucky charm by @floating-inthevoid

the medic by @slothgiirl

looking sharp pt.1 | pt.2 by @crybabyddl

the spy pt.1 | pt.2 by @slothgiirl

electro vision by @paperpeacock

nsfw hcs by @keiffeine

wildfire by @icarus-imagines

carry you by @messy-voltron

hands by @sta1rlight

pain by @paperpeacock

yes sir by @keiffeine

jealous by @keiffeine

don't leave me now by @crysingae

solar flares by @retvenkos

space wolf by @slut4thebroken

touch by @lee-fushiguro

first meetings by @girlboypersonthingy

how i know i love you by @messy-voltron

put your head on my shoulder by @ruvatia

relationship hcs by @multi-fandom-asks

warm by @multi-fandom-asks

affectionate by @multi-fandom-asks

love language by @pretty-setter-bois

cute by @pretty-setter-bois

waterbender by @pretty-setter-bois

a slip of tongue by @pretty-setter-bois

first kiss by @sweetheart-station

pumpkin and bats by @bookerror

lingerie by @bookerror

hugs by @voltronisanobsession

dating hcs by @chocopbwafer

let's dance by @girlboypersonthingy

cuddling by @paladin-shenanigans

mother tongue by @paladin-shenanigans

pda by @abbylouamanda

secret relationships are hard by @voltronisanobsession

soulmates in all realities by @voltronisanobsession

keith's glowing eyes by @voltronisanobsession

#voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #keith voltron #keith kogane x reader #voltron keith #keith x reader #voltron #vld #voltron x reader #vld keith #keith kagone #voltron: legendary defender

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moonlit-imagines · 4 months

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warnings:

a/n:

not requested

“Please, please, please!” You pleaded with Robby holding a matching costume to yours in your arms. “It’s not dumb, I swear. It’s gonna be great, I promise!”

“I don’t want to.” Robby dryly replied, looking down at the collection of clothes and accessories you held. When he looked back up at you, your eyes were wide and your frown was innocent like a puppy dog. “Fine.” He took the costume and walked off to his room to change. You celebrated with a little squeal and ran to a mirror to make sure you looked alright. Minutes later, Robby emerged to reveal this look to you, and the best part was he didn’t even look like he hated it.

“You look so good!” Your smile was priceless, so completely worth the costume change—or rather, costume compliance. “Can we get some pictures?” You asked of him once more and he rolled his eyes. “Pleaseee?” He cracked a smirk and walked to you, putting his arm around your shoulder and smiling for the camera. “Okay, just a few more!”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @dindjarinsspouse // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @mellowkingdombouquet // @ipurpleeyou // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 //

#robby keene #robby keene x reader #robby keene imagine #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai imagine

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doyouknowthis-grishaverse · 3 months

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#grishaverse #shadow and bone #my polls #fandom polls #grishaverse polls #six of crows duology #six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #the crows #emil retvenko

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stromuprisahat · 1 year

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Anti-Grisha sentiments in Six of Crows duology, pt. 1

Six of Crows- Chapter 1

*exasperated Darkling voice*

It’s a Small SCIENCE!

Any property damage caused by indenture, will be paid by them.

Manners are not necessary, while dealing with indentures. They’re objects with function, not people.

Expensive objects with function.

Coveted expensive objects with function.

The most terrifying aspect of ongoing injustice is always indifference of some.

Anya, pt. 2, pt. 3

#Grishaverse #Six of Crows #SoC Chapter 1 #anti Grisha sentiments #Grisha #Kerch indenture #Kerch #Emil Retvenko #grishanalyticritical #V #Six of Crows duology #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 11 months

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Ok y’all it’s time for a grishaverse world-building rant (mainly linked to soc/ck) and there’s a good chance this is gonna turn into a long and rambling post but bare with me.

*CONSISTENT GRISHAVERSE SPOILERS AHEAD*

In the Netflix show, why did they replace Alby’s lion toy with a toy train? I wanna talk about the absence of the lion, but also of all things why did they choose a train?

The train really stuck out to me when watching season 2 and at first I wasn’t my sure why, and just struck it up to the fact that I was expecting a plush lion. I think it’s absolutely notable that they exchanged the lion for a different toy, because the TV show didn’t give us as much opportunity for the foreshadowing surrounding Alby Rollins’ existence as we had in the book, since Van Eck is the key to a lot of the passages that foreshadow Rollins having a child. The fact that Kaz was able to present the lion was what served as “proof” for his attack on Alby, and is one of the best scenes showcasing Kaz’s incredible intellect. Since Kaz had never seen Alby, in fact had no concrete evidence of his existence whatsoever, he based the entire presence of the toy lion on Pekka’s pride in his gang, the Dime Lions. But since the show doesn’t have the opportunity to explain the gang culture of Ketterdam in as much detail as the books, which is obviously understandable and it’s the kind of thing I would expect to be lost in the transition from source to adaptation, they can’t make the assumption that the audience will associate the lion with the Dime Lions, particularly since they haven’t explored the gang tattoos (as a side note the meanings behind the tattoos are just *chefs kiss* but anyway-) So unless they were making specific effort to try and include more references to the lions earlier on, it makes sense to change the toy. It also leaves open the option for later in the show (fingers crossed, I’m praying for good news right now) to bring the lion in for different schemes and to create more anticipation and build up for the absolutely iconic Inej move of replacing the lion with a crow in the last chapter of Crooked Kingdom. So I understand the choice to change the type of toy that Kaz takes from Alby, especially since we already know that it’s Alby being used as the threat in this scene and in the books we didn’t, but of all the options why would they choose a toy train? My best guess is that it’s a nod to the Conductor and the train across the fold in season one, but it kind of annoys me because, other than the train that was added for the show and the tank in ck that is explained as amongst the first of its kind, THERE ARE NO MECHANICAL VEHICLES IN THIS UNIVERSE YET. None!!

We have to remember that the development of a constructed world is based on its needs and it’s understanding of it’s resources, not on mimicking the development of our own world; so although some people are probably thinking ‘well they recently developed flying vehicles, it makes sense for trains to exist before that’ I would genuinely argue that in this world it makes no sense whatsoever. We know from explanations in soc and ck (in Retvenko’s chapter mostly, but also in Joost’s and a few other references) that there has been no need to develop engines for boats because the winds can be calmed or summoned by Squallers; they fill the sails or fend off storms to keep the ships moving, there is no need for development thus far because grisha possess the natural resources to maintain the power they need. But in Ravka the presence of the shadow fold meant it became necessary to develop other options, so progress came about and Nikolai developed the Hummingbird. But it’s very important to note that (to my understanding at least, if you happen to know I’m wrong please feel free to correct me) the Hummingbird is still entirely dependent on Squaller power to maintain its flight, because development is always based on the previous model. Similarly, the tanks being the first motorised vehicles we’re introduced to makes perfect sense in the world we’ve come to know and understand, especially since we’re learning from the perspective of mostly Kerch-born or Kerch-living characters. Jesper tells us that there are very few carriages on the streets of Ketterdam, that horses are a luxury because the space to keep them is a luxury, not because they open up further modes of transportation - this is also emphasised by the knowledge that one of the greatest signs of prosperity in Ketterdam is a house with its own dock. This is because canals are the main way of moving, and since the boats and their squallers are a time-proven method of travel there’s no current need to develop engine mechanisms for boats, and cars aren’t needed because no-one would use them to travel. I’d also like to add that I realise not everyone has access to Squaller power, but the rich of Ketterdam do and they live in an incredibly classist society. In the Barrel, most of the boats are moved by rowing and/or punting, as is made clear at the end of soc when the crew row to meet Van Eck and he is brought by Squallers, and the theme is continued throughout ck.

The most likely place for cars to crop up first, based on what we’ve seen of the different countries, is probably Ravka; the country is a hub of innovation and the fabrikators there are the most free to practice their craft. However, Ravka is also a country that has been at war since it was founded, there is no room for any type of development that does not further their chances of survival against Fjerda, Shu Han, or their own civil war. Other places we might have expected to see motorisation pop up faster could be the farming provinces of Kerch and Novyi Zem, since they could be utilised for tractors and ploughs. But most innovation in Kerch is centralised around Ketterdam, where the engines are currently unecessary, and although I don’t know enough about Novyi Zem to argue either way the auction in Crooked Kingdom may imply that their government’s budget is lower those of Kerch, Fjerda, and Shu Han. (But again, we don’t have bundles of information about the Zemeni government so I’m not super confident there). We do, however, know that Jesper was the only one other than Matthias who already knew what a tank was when they got to Fjerda, and so it’s fair to predict that there’s been at least some development in that area in Novyi Zem, or at least enough interest for news of them to reach the gunsmith Jesper worked with. But let’s assume that the invention did come from Fjerda itself, at least for the time being. This makes perfect sense!! It was mostly likely developed, unbeknownst to Matthias, by the parem-drugged fabrikators being held at the Ice Court. Now that they have access to this power, Fjerda achieves all of the same tickboxes to be the initial place of engine development as Ravka does. Of course, Fjerda is also at war or under threat of it, but I think it’s important to remember that the Fjerdan government doesn’t really see war with Ravka as a threat at all. They see it more as an opportunity to prove themselves, to properly cement their position in the world economy and as a global power, which we know Kerch - or at least the general population of the country, if not the government - does not currently see it as. So it makes sense that their developmental focus would not be on ease of travel for the majority of its people by developing cars or flight machines, but on engines that can be used for dominance: tanks.

I’m hoping I’ve kind of got my point across here even if in a slightly convoluted way, but I want to add Inej’s quote from the scene with the tank to really cement the idea that this was development on a scale they had never experienced before: “They were moving - and not a horse in sight!” Someone who has seen a train at any point in her life, or who has any understanding that trains exist and work, is not going to be absolutely blown away by the concept of moving without the aid of horses. So why pick a train??? I don’t know, I’m clearly thinking far too much into it but I just… I dunno, it bothered me, there were so many other things to choose. I didn’t really mind the train in season one because it was set up like a one-of-a-kind contraption, but the idea of there being toy replicas of steam trains implies a very different level of development in a world clearly implied to be pre- its industrial revolutions.

Anyway, thanks for reading my mad ramblings! I have SO MANY thoughts about world building and structure in the Grishaverse, and world building as a browser topic as well, so if you want to hear anything more please let me know!

#grishaverse #leigh bardugo #six of crows #crooked kingdom #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #nina zenik #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #wylan van eck #world building #kanej #wesper #helnik #soc analyst #book analysis #fantasy books

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heliads · 2 years

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could you do head cannons on dating newt (fem reader)

Thanks!

yes

masterlist

With all the commotion and general stress of being in the Glade, there is certainly something to be said about Newt’s kind of love:

Soft, gentle, makes you feel both deeply wanted and desperately needed at the same time

Everyone says that they have never known Newt not to be in love with you, despite the fact that there were a few months in between his arrival in the Box and yours

Then again, it does sort of make sense

Newt acts like a husband of fifty years every single day he’s around you

This boy is LOVESICK and it is fantastic

He will sneak you fresh fruits and vegetables from the gardens whenever he can get away with it

And also even when he can’t– Zart has chastised him a thousand times about it, but that has never stopped Newt from sneaking the occasional tomato or sweet pea whenever the Keeper’s back is turned

On his off days, Newt is more than happy to spend his free time with you

Sleeping in or taking midday naps is quite common, the two of you tucked into a hammock together

You’ve memorized the sound of his heartbeat through his cotton shirt, specifically they way it feels with your head tucked up against his collarbone

Despite the peaceful, quiet love, there is another side to Newt that you love just as much

He’s still the best friend of Minho, Alby, and Thomas, and that means he can be just as insane as the rest of them

Sometimes that means the most competitive games of Glade hide and seek you’ve ever seen (there’s no chance he’ll go easy because you’re dating, far from it)

Or Newt waking you up in the middle of the night because he’s just seen a superb constellation and you have to name it right now

Newt has an extra burden on his shoulders due to the role of second in command, and that means he’ll be as playful as he wants with you to get rid of some of that stress

Despite the toughest days, though, it’s you that Newt loves most, and the love of a boy like that is something extraordinary indeed <3

tmr tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria

requested by @magicmists, i hope you enjoy!

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musicallisto · 2 years

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Hi! Could you do a Drabble with “Wait, you think I’m cute?” with Kaz please?

: ̗̀➛ 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐝𝐨𝐠 (kaz brekker x gn!reader)

a/n: i had something much more fun in mind idk what this is im sorry features: 3rd person gn!reader (they/them) wc: 700

˚ ༘✶ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST || TAG LIST ˚ ༘✶

𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 worthy of the name must have among its ranks a master of disguise. A shadow who glides through the crowds in broad daylight, who can be grafted onto any skin and fills it seamlessly. Kaz Brekker knows this—and he knows even better that as far as Ketterdam's camouflage swindlers go, Y/N Y/L/N is the very best.

And Kaz Brekker only surrounds himself with the best of the best.

Once again, he called upon his favorite actor to play the role of the inside connection. It's almost too easy for them, and they play it up; Y/N watches their nails nonchalantly, then Kaz with feigned disinterest, and purrs that it looks like Dirtyhands can't get enough of them.

But Kaz knows that Y/N's arrogant indifference is only a facade, and that they will always come back with haste to work at his side. By lure of gain, by love of adrenalin, or by, and he shudders to think of it, but does not allow himself to consider it too long, sincere affection for his company.

"What am I to do this time?"

"Obey orders."

A click of the tongue. "That's not what I'm used to doing."

"Not mine."

"Even worse."

"I need a pair of eyes inside the Exchange, and an unassuming, docile runner to gain the trust of its merchers. Your papers are already done—you are Ghezen's newest little recruit. You will pass on everything you see, everything you hear, the slightest crack in the floor to me through Nina Zenik."

Y/N's ears perk up at the outline of the plan, curiosity piqued and shameless grin creeping on their lips.

"The Exchange? You're either planning the heist of the century, or the remainder of your life in prison. Kerch will never forgive you for the affront to her idol."

"I have no forgiveness to ask of anyone. Are you in?"

Y/N's entire frame sizzles with ardent greed. They already imagine the riches with which they will cover the sills of each of their windows and pave the crumbling stairs of his building, the hot, mold-free meals they will be able to share with the Dregs; the spark of pride they will read in Kaz's eyes as they faithfully report each piece of information in the palm of his glove.

"When have I not been in?"

Y/N spots a flame of esteem dancing on Kaz's beaming face. He doesn't try to hide it at all, for once. He surrenders himself completely to the glory of a dream, of a smile, of a hand that he unintentionally extends. Toward Y/N.

"Perfect. There was no one better suited to play the role of a mercher's cute little lapdog."

"I'll take it as a... wait, you think I'm cute?"

When Y/N's head shoots up at Kaz, they find him chuckling to himself, casting glimmering lights onto their every pore. He is a sight to behold, unabashed and drenched in careful humor, something like an eclipse.

"You only ever hear what you want to hear."

A joke falling from his lips, effortless and candid, is like discovering a speckle of pure gold in a mountain of rubble. By Ghezen, does it drive them crazy.

"Isn't that what you hired me for? To hear the secrets that the unwary drop?"

Like a scene lost to Ketterdam's smoky haze, Kaz swats Y/N's shoulder lightly, stifling a laugh, and the leather of his glovers glides on their forearm without care, halting their heart for a split second. The next, before they can catch a glimpse of Kaz's earnest gaze, the touch is gone, and so are the sparks.

"Nina got you the guards' uniform. You start tomorrow morning. Don't disappoint me."

"I never do."

Kaz nods, the ghost of a memory tugging at the corner of his eyes. Then, like all that is worth saving in Ketterdam, it is gone, swallowed by the mist and soot.

tagging: @softeninglooks @maybanksslut @alexxavicry (all my writing) @retvenkos @lettersoftroy @janesofia7 @swanimagines @sassyscribbler @noesapphic (grishaverse)

#six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #soc imagine #soc fanfiction #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfiction #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #grishaverse #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #mywriting #anon

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