kaz: but have u SEEN her? *will smith meme of him presenting Inej Ghafa*
To the Grishaverse: We never stop fighting.
To honor this fandom that welcomed me with open arms, I will be posting my own take of S3 of “Shadow and Bone” in fic form. To Leigh, thank you for gifting us a world to walk into where the close calls made hope feel tangible. Thank you for the magic & the mayhem.
To my own fic readers, I toast DWOD style: “To the coin. May we always wonder where it disappeared to. May magic live on.”
I cannot offer much, but I may still offer a bandaid to aid the broken hearts that beat like crows’ wings.
No mourners, no funerals.
So… can’t stop thinking about this head cannon I realized I have.
If Kaz and Inej have kids (whether adopted or biological)… I personally think that their son &/or daughter would be the Grishaverse embodiment of Indiana Jones/ Lara Croft.
Let me tell you why bc I’m not wrong:
- The love of complex puzzles from Kaz & climbing/fighting of Inej.
- Lara’s long hair??? Indy’s obsession with his hat??? Come on now.
- The potential for 💰 in the antiquities hunting field/ the desire for financial freedom comes from Kaz HOWEVER the appreciation for culture & peoples from all over comes from Inej.
- A Kanej child would ABSOLUTELY use a forking ice pick as a weapon like Lara??? (I feel less inclined on Indy’s whip but in a pinch they would be aces with it.)
- The DESIRE TO TRAVEL THE WORLD COMES FROM MAMA ‘NEJ.
- IMAGINE THE LOCK PICKING SKILLS THESE KIDS WOULD HAVE FROM DA???
- The TRICK SHOTS WITH REVOLVERS FROM UNCLE JES?
- THE PEOPLE SKILLS & LANGUAGE LESSONS FROM AUNTIE NEENS??
- THE ABILITY TO CONSTRUCT/COMBINE THINGS IN A PINCH FOR EXPLOSIVE EFFECTS FROM UNCLE WY??
- I’m right.
- Validate me & I might write this along with my Alby Rollins 1920’s-esque Ketterdam fic. 👀👀
Thinking about going off & updating ALL of my fics in one (1) day (which I’ve never accomplished) & yes this includes ending my hiatus on “The Dregs” + “The Battles of Before” 👀 will I break my own reality? Do I dare?
“Scars Like Moons”
New chapter is live on “Dealing With Our Demons” by ravenyenn19 on ao3 🖤
Gosh, I’m nervous. Just hope you love it & read the author notes. I love you all. Thank you forever.🖤
I am linking my kofi! If you all enjoy my writing, I’d very much appreciate you checking it out. My stories mean everything to me & anything I receive here allows me to fund the caffeine it requires to chug along- as well as the software I use for writing etc. Pretty much tips for your local starving artist on this corner of the internet 🫶🏻 If you are unable to, please know that your support by reading my words is already more than I could ever ask for. I’m eternally grateful. Love you🐦⬛🖤
Posted this on Insta & forgot to put it here. Apparently, I’m in my Six of Crows meme creation era 🐦⬛
Ily go follow me on threads (@ravenyenn19) Yes I was influenced, no I don’t care. I plan on giving y’all a glimpse into the nightmare that is my inner thoughts on that app🫡🐦⬛
I need to stop w the SoC memes but Leigh pretty much wrote them for me🐦⬛
Six of Crows future head cannon:
- Alby Rollins joins the Dregs.
- Picture it: 1920’s-esque Ketterdam, 10 years post Sweet Reef/ Ice Court. Slick Rolls Royce cars line the cobbled streets, a city spiraling toward a new age. Rain drenches the obscure signs & hidden arrows pointing to the Speak-Easy halls. In a time of prohibition… down, down, down must one go in the Barrel to find the most notorious of them all. A slice of sin, six feet under. A crowd drunk off vice served in black tea cups.
- The young man walks into Kaz Brekker’s office (after fighting his way there), sits himself in a chair opposite a great obsidian desk. Winded & lip still bleeding from his tousle with the men at the doors, Alby wheezes: “Teach me.”
- In turn, A near 30 year old Kaz smirks. “I thought lions preferred their pride.”
- Alby, barely pushing 17, gives a smile of a golden boy, nervous but strong enough to hold the gaze of a devil. (He’s practiced.) “I thought Crows scavengers. Here I am, a shine for the taking.”
- “Still have that crow, little lion?” A feminine shadow whispers from the corner. Unnoticed by the young man previously, he clicks his teeth but still refuses to show fear. A serpent-like bead of sweat slides down his spine, a shiver chasing after. He holds firm, biting his cheek to hide the startle.
- He knows this shadow, this phantom. She haunted him, once.
- “I buried it with my father,” the Kaelish prince whispers, “or rather, in place of him. Never did find a body. Pity.” He shrugs.
- Kaz’s eyes glint like a cat’s, his smile a loaded gun. A gloved hand stretches halfway across the table in offering. “All right, cub. What do you want?”
- Alby reaches forward, feeling the cold black leather of Dirtyhands’ grip between his fingers. The moment is a stormy crossroads, a whip between his shoulders reminiscent of his father’s favorite belt. He smiles, for this is a pain Alby has been walking toward since the day he woke up clutching stuffed black feathers.
- (His blood never did bleed emerald.)
- More than one answer to Kaz’s stinging question come to mind, nettles along the path of his thoughts. Yet, only one pricks Alby into speaking, the rage in his voice real rather than bravado. “Revenge.”
- The Wraith giggles roughly, slipping herself to the arm of Kaz’s chair on silent feet. Alby swallows.
- “On me?” The leader of the Dregs rasps, a brow peaked with amusement. His wife smiles with closed lips, knives glinting along her body like hungry specters. For here, her teeth are shown. Alby knows she Captain’s a fleet of the deadliest ships in the True Sea. He drags his gaze from her quickly.
- “No.” Alby stutters, but he does not lie. Kaz Brekker bested his abusive father, and he does not care about Pekka’s death. In fact, sitting with the suspected murderers, Alby finds he rather prefers their company.
- Kaz reclines in his chair, a hand lazily splayed on Captain Ghafa’s knee. He regards Alby with black eyes, a sharpness that pierces through his strength but doesn’t shatter it. A blade meant to probe. A test of mettle. Alby has waited too long for this audience, he cannot lose it. A moment passes.
- Dirtyhands looks to his wife, his Wraith. She quirks her head in the silent exchange. Six heart beats have passed, and Alby Rollins is certain he won’t leave this room. He waits for the snap of a cane to bank his vision, a warm blanket of red to cover him from the jugular down.
- He waits for death, but does not invite it. It does not come.
- Instead, a voice like choking smoke, “Then let us begin.”
- Alby Rollins releases a breath. His knuckles loosen in parts. A tattooist is called in.
- The Crow & Cup bleeds as it settles, accepting the fresh skin as it’s master’s tithe.
- Alby sits taller, a prince of a different kind, a darker throne.
- I don’t make the rules but this is now my personal agenda & important that u agree
- Crap now I have to put it in a fic
- Should I do it?
Interviewer: are those ur friends?
Kaz: never met em. Seem like a goofy group w a lot of $$$ on the line tho😒