#merchers in the house

[dovahkiining]

local man makes everyone listen to his deranged crows parallels, part one.

or, theseus' ship & the bite of a mutt.

love letters or suicide notes - doc luben | domestication syndrome - dhole b | margaret atwood | clarice lispector | @/maybe-itsforthebest on tumblr | in a dream you saw a way to survive - clementine von radics | david foster wallace | the short stories - f. scott fitzgerald | little girl looking downstairs at christmas party - norman rockwell | fingertips - fortesa latifi | jen mazza | jendy nelson | insurgent - veronica roth | boot theory - richard siken | @/lgbtunis on tumblr | natalie diaz | shining night - joseph feely | ophelia - constantin meunier.

[drieddpetals]

"kaz stealing silver spoons from the van eck house" this, "kaz sneaking around to scrape art from the van eck house" that. i raise you, kaz stealing wylan's clothes. kaz "dresses like a mercher to mock them" brekker having a friend who is quite literally a mercher gives him too many opportunities. are they the same size? no. does kaz do it mostly just to annoy wylan? yeah.

[19burstraat]

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

[shit-people-probably-didnt-say]

Kaz: I love going to Merchers houses and acquiring things

Inej: Thats called stealing

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Six of Crows chapter one - line by line analysis

The quote-by-quote analysis series is back! I started this with analysing my favourite quotes from each chapter but I'm bringing it back because I'm finally annotating the books, so this might end up being a little more in depth than it was the first time around and with that in mind I will probably reblog the original posts and add on any more detail that I've included since originally posting, then once we get beyond the chapters I'd already done they'll be back to this kind of format. I'll also mention I have an essay post called Six of Crows' chapter one breaks all the rules (and it should) so if you're interested you can check that out too, a lot of my annotations kinda revolve around my main arguments in that about the setup making us care for the characters only to take them away being a very clever opening, acting as foreshadowing and a threat, etc

And now on with my favourite annotations that I made in chapter one! Things I actually wrote in my book are written regularly, thoughts I'm adding now as an extension on that are in italics. Words in bold in quotes mean I singled out that section specifically within a wider quote :)

"Joost had two problems" - immediate character introduction with conflict makes us feel he'll be important

"trying to think of something clever and romantic to say to Anya" - quickly introduces romantic tension

"Even here among the mansions of the Geldstraat" - suggests class divide; "even here" adds emphasis to the idea of a separation between the Geldstraat and the rest of the setting, also implying that this isn't the norm so starts to plant seeds about the idea of a large disparity between the upper class few and lower class many

"except he's never heard her laugh" - interest starts to appear shallow/surface level, this could be linked to the prevalent reminders of how young Joost is because it feels like a childish crush rather than a deep romantic attachment

"Even in his new uniform, he still looked like a baby" "if only his moustache would come in" - emphasis on how young he is

"running down thieves in the Barrel or patrolling the harbours" - expanding the setting, starts to introduce the areas of the setting that we can compare the Geldstraat to in the class disparity that is already unravelling and therefore gives us a first impression of more impoverished areas as an outsider to them - we now already associate the Barrel and the harbours with crime, even thoguh we know nothing about them

"But ever since the assassination of that ambassador at the town hall, the Merchant Council had been grumbling about security, so where was he? Stuck walking in circles at some lucky mercher's house" - so much casual and personal language in an offhand complaint; oxymoronic to "assassination"

"Sharp-eyes and quick with a cudgel [...] that fellow deserves a promotion" - society that rewards violence

"they were house guards, private servants of Councilman Hoede" "Pale green livery" "fancy rifles from Novyi Zem" "never let Joost forget he was a lowly grunt from the city watch" - private sector more highly valued than public service

"never let Joost forget he was a lowly grunt from the city watch" - diminishing -> link to negative public perception of stadwatch?

"If it hadn't been for Anya, he probably would've pleaded with his captain for a reassignment. He and Anya only ever exchanged a few words, but she was always the best part of his night" - she's his 'reason' but their relationship seems shallow -> feels like a childish crush, emphasising Joost's naivete by infantilising him

"Hoede had one of the grandest mansions on the Geldstraat" - further subdivisions of hierarchy within a class show societal nature about wealth

"More than the hand-painted blue tiles [...] Hoede had three of them" - comparing people and objects to property

"this workshop was a testimony to Hoede's wealth. Grisha indentures didn't come cheap, and Hoede had three of them" - ownership; dehumanisation

"Joost lied. The house was always overheated, as if Hoede were under obligation to burn coal, but Joost wasn't going to be the one to mention it" - introduces the idea of Joost's cowardice

"The house was always overheated, as if Hoede were under obligation to burn coal" - compare to later descriptions of the Barrel; shows casual wealth and subsequent carelessness

"a few days ago [...] Dust had begun to gather [...] the grapes were going bad" - no cares to tidy when indentures are gone -> lack of responsibility

"strutting around in stupid purple uniform" "what was wrong with his uniform?" - J cares about uniform more than more personal insult -> naive pride in the system

"And why did Retvenko even have to be here?" - almost childish-sounding complaint, sounds like he's whining

"She should be in after dark" - controlling, lack of autonomy

"Retvenko raised an arm [...] little watchdog" - Retvenko is forced to exert what little power he has whenever he can to feel control again; Joost cannot stand to be overpowered by someone 'lower'

"That's counting against your indenture" - both are using what little power they have but ultimately neither have any impact, on the other or anywhere else

"little watchdog" "Even you. Or are you too busy making friends?"- diminishing, infantilising

"The Grisha weren't just servants, they were Hoede's treasured possessions" "Grisha indentures were kept to the house for good reason. To walk the streets without protection was to risk getting plucked up by a slaver and never seen again" - Joost believes in the system so genuinely that he doesn't see the irony in his own thoughts between 'possessions' and the risk of slavers, these thoughts are barely two lines apart. The real reason [that Grisha indentures are kept to the house] = control; J believes the lie

"Clutching her red silks tight around her" - desperation; fear. He means her fake kefta, but this wording creates a strong comparison between Anya and the indentures on West Stave, whose costumes are always described as 'silks'. Anya as a construct sets up a lot of information for us about worldbuilding, because it's through her that we first learn about this society's perception of Grisha, immigrants, indentures, and women. Anya has suffered for being part of all of these groups, and her experiences can be seen reflected in many of the characters we come to know for far longer than we get to know her. Her "red silks" invoke both the image of Nina's fake kefta, a Kerch-made costume imitating a real and important part of her culture that she is forced to appropriate to survive, and the fake Suli silks that Inej is forced to wear at the Menagerie, where she is forced to partake in the appropriation of her culture as well as being tortured and abused. There are multiple references in the opening chapter that imply Anya may have been abused by Hoede, including multiple parallels between descriptions of her and descriptions of children indentured to pleasure houses on West Stave, though these parallels could serve simply to draw attention to the indenture system

"Anya had smiled and Joost was lost. He knew his cause was hopeless. Even if she'd had any interest in him, he could never afford to buy her indenture, and she would never marry unless Hoede decreed it" - what seemed sweet and romantic is so quickly twisted to being unpleasant -> reflection of Anya's harsh reality

"She can't see you" - Anya doesn't know there are so many people watching; displayed like a zoo animal

"The glass is mirrored on the other side" - foreshadowing Ice Court cells

"Be a brave lad, and there's a few kruge in it for you" - everything comes down to money -> people will do anything for money. This is a culture that uses money as a weapon.

"Then he grabbed Anya's chin with a liver-spotted hand." - "grabbed" = violent, "grabbed Anya's chin" - literally above her & forcing her to look up, "liver-spotted hand" - emphasises age difference

"Do as your told and this will soon be over, ja?" - no money for Anya, only threats. She is not told to be brave or that she will be compensated for the pain she might be (is) about to go through; money may be a weapon or a lever, but there are two details about Anya's predicament that discount her from such an offer: she is already trapped by money in her debt and indenture contract; she is not valued as a human the way the boy is. The boy will always be looked down upon because of his class, but Anya cannot be viewed lower than she is; she is a possession, money has become a useless tool because she cannot own anything, she is owned. In its place, violence rules. Anya's life is arguably a metaphor for the setting of Ketterdam, and learning so much about her in the opening chapter is our first introduction to the city. A similar argument could be made about Joost, or even that they are a parallel set designed to show us both side of the city and the disparity between them before we even know it.

"Of course, Onkel" - links to West Stave

"Anya has a sweet disposition [...] Not prone to agression." - he could be talking about a dog

"I can't be asked to bear that expense" - more care for money than her or Yuri's life

"Joos had slept with a sock bear until he was nearly fourteen, a fact his older brothers had mocked mercilessly" - "Learning more about Joost and his family so we get to know him and he feels realistic + the reader cares about him -> he wants to prove himself as grown up because his mum doesn't believe in him and R+H's teasing bothers him bc they're like his brothers

"It's not going to kill you" - the only comfort, and it's a lie. That was a shitty form of comfort in the first place

"What do you know?" "Enough to keep my trap shut" - suggests there is danger in speaking out

"I should stop this, Joost thought, I should find a way to protect her, both of them. But what then? He was a nobody, new to the stadwatch, new to this house. Besides, he discovered in a burst of shame, I want to keep my job." - cowardice; he's exactly what they want, with more care for himself and his job than the people he should protect. And protecting people is literally his job, is it not? Arguably this is a representation of how the deep-running corruption within the stadwatch can begin.

"reaching for his rifle" - he has made his choice.

"Shoot her!" "Do you know how much money she's worth? [...] Do not shoot" - again, money is valued more than human life

"He saw Anya rise and pick up the little boy. He heard her crooning tenderly to him, some Ravkan lullaby" - Anya is much more likeable; she protects the child even as she seeks revenge or violence & we are understanding of her choices - as we are understanding of Kaz's? "Ravkan lullaby" links to her wanting to go home, "some" is diminishing and suggests a lack of care about Anya's culture or life from Joost

"Do as your told, and this will soon be over, ja? [...] Pick up the knife" - ending the first chapter by introducing revenge, one of the novels' key themes

~~~

I also wrote on a sticky note and glued it into the final page so I'll transcribe that here:

Anya and Joost feel like the story's catalysts, but in actuality they could have been anyone and that is a large part of their tragedy as victims in a system that does not care about them. Even Joost, who believed in and was naively part of that system, is killed by it.

My final summary of key themes that I'd tagged in this chapter: revenge, money/greed/related, class/related, love (romantic), power/related, setting, family dynamics

[fairytalesofforever]

kept my warmth

for @grishawintergifts @jyovi-04 | kaz/inej | background jesper/wylan

Generally, it does not snow in Ketterdam. 

The city is too damp and not nearly idyllic enough for that; they get sleet, and hail, and ice that makes the streets slick and perilous, but not snow. The first winter that Inej is back on the Wraith, however, it snows not once but twice. 

The first snow is a passing nothing—the Crow Club is quiet, construction on the Six is slowed, a stubborn ache nests itself around Kaz’s knee, and the streets are covered in puddles and slush by noon. The second falls when she’s on shore at Jesper and Wylan’s. 

He almost doesn’t go. It’s a veritable blizzard and snow has piled up around the doors of the Slat and the clubs, and besides, he only tolerates the damp with his collar turned up and his scowl particularly deep. However. It’s the damp or Jesper’s sad, pleading expression, like the farm’s collie when Jordie once stepped on her tail. It’s the damp or Wylan’s resignation, ducking his head to his work, his pen scratching in the silence. It’s the damp or Inej sitting alone by a fire. 

She got back yesterday. He hasn’t seen her yet. 

So he goes. 

He walks past the shoveled front steps of the manor, around the uncleared side path that leads to the kitchen door. This is the one lock they haven’t changed on his advice, which Kaz takes as an invitation to let himself in. The ache is less nested now and more burrowed, and he shifts his weight as he coaxes the lock open, then slips inside. 

There are too many parlors in this damn house, but he makes an educated guess and finds them in the one at the base of the stairs. Jesper is in a high-backed chair with some sort of orange-bronze foliage pattern upholstered on it, the only one facing the doorway, and he whoops when he sees Kaz. “Good thing we didn’t get the whiskey out yet at eleven bells. Is that the cherry wine from the Crow Club?”

The bottle that was hanging quite obviously from Kaz’s hand vanishes as soon as the other two turn to look. “I don’t bring gifts, Jesper.”

“Right. Just your sparkling personality.” Jesper hops up from his chair and lopes over to poke at the fire, throwing up a shower of sparks. 

“Kleincanal is frozen over,” Wylan mentions. 

Jesper perks up at this, for some reason, and worse yet he’s looking at Kaz. “Decided to be snowed in with us, then?”

“Needed explosives,” Kaz says shortly, leaning on his cane and chancing a look at Inej. It’s been two months and then some since he last saw her. She must’ve visited Ravka because her nose is pierced now. A red line of firelight reflects off the thin, gilded ring. More of the light ribbons through her braid, uncoiled over one shoulder, and underpaints her gleaming lashes. They raise slowly as she looks at him, and he can see her taking him apart with her eyes just as he’s doing. Cataloguing the changes. He’s wearing the gloves now, but he’s stopped wearing them when he’s alone in his room. 

“I’m afraid they’ll take me most of the day to make,” Wylan says, twisting in his chair to look back at Kaz over his shoulder. Technically, he’s in a high-collared suit of mercher black, but the top buttons are undone and his ascot is draped over the arm of his chair. “So you’ll have to stay here until after dinner.”

Kaz narrows his eyes. “I never told you what I wanted, merchling.” 

Wylan rolls his eyes. “No. You never do.”

Tired of standing in the doorway, Kaz crosses the room. The only available piece of furniture is the ornate sofa Inej is sitting on. He wishes people would stop trying to out-scheme him, but sits there anyway. 

“You did once,” she murmurs. 

Kaz glances at her. He tries to keep the looks short. Starving men have tendencies to feast and make themselves sick. “Did what, Wraith?”

“Said what you wanted.” She’s staring into the fire, almost whispering. 

You, Inej, you. And he’s trying, for what shamefully little he has to show for it. He wonders if he should take the gloves off now, chance it, shove his hands in his pockets so no one else sees. But Jesper is still standing up by the fire, laughing with his head thrown back the way Jordie used to do. Their da called him a little rooster. 

It’s always harder with Jesper. 

So when one of the maids brings out coffee, he takes the cup in his gloved hands. He drops in several sugar cubes, disguised by sleight of hand. Inej gives him an amused glance that makes him think she could tell. Wylan finds the bottle of cherry wine that has mysteriously found its way onto the drinks cart, despite the fact that Kaz hasn’t risen from his seat. Jesper laughs again and tips his head back. Little rooster. 

Outside, the snow continues to fall. 

The follow the coffee with water and then wine, served in glasses that are each worth enough to make Kaz consider pocketing one at the end of the night. Jesper and Wylan’s joint inability to keep their hands off of each other rears its head shortly after the wine is uncorked, and they give an excuse to vanish upstairs, leaving Kaz and Inej alone in the parlor as an early dark falls. 

“Three ships burned,” she says after several breaths of silence. “It was a long chase.”

“That’s the way,” Kaz replies. The snowdrifts have piled up to the lip of the windowsill and it’s still coming down outside. The Slat may be dry, but it doesn’t keep out the chill like a roaring fire does. 

“I left one of the captains on a sandbar.” Inej continues staring into the fire. Its reflections turn her eyes molten and make her skin glow red around the edges. “He begged. They all do.”

“Should’ve done their begging sooner.”

“And you, Kaz?” Now she’s looking at him. There’s space for a person to sit between them and then some. He should move closer. But this moment feels like it’s made of glass. He won’t shatter it. 

“I don’t beg,” he says. It’s a lie. He would if she asked. But Inej knows he’s a liar and she’s sitting here anyway. She knows and she still came back. 

How many more times?

Maybe he won’t have to keep counting if he fights for this like he’s fought for everything else. Even if he comes out bloodied and bruised, bones shattered, at the end of it all, that’s the way he knows how to win. 

“That isn’t what I meant,” Inej says. 

He knows that too. He doesn’t answer, not really. But he does slip the gloves off. First one, then the other, precise and sharp with his movements—undoing the wrist clasps, pocketing the pair. He drops his bare hand to the seat cushion. It feels like velvet. He can feel it now.

Her eyes track down to it, his fingers splayed out like roots on the green cushion. 

“Renovations on the Emerald Palace,” he says. They’re both looking at his hand now. His pulse is roaring like waves in his ears. Some days Kaz wonders if this sickness won’t die till he does. 

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Inej says softly. He thinks she may have moved closer, silent as always. 

“They tore down the facade. Rollins’ legacy is ash.” This should comfort him. Toppling Pekka Rollins was meant to finally convince the warped and cracked parts of his mind that he wasn’t a helpless child anymore, that he could win even this fight. But all he can see now is his bare hand. Ripped-out roots. 

“What are you naming it?” Inej’s voice is a light from the surface. 

He hasn’t told anyone this yet. There are four people left who would know what it means, and three of them would laugh in his face. He doesn’t want to face that today. “The Silver Six.” 

Inej’s hand slides across to meet his. Their fingers interlock. She has new calluses, places where the skin has split. The roughness helps. 

“So you’re building something new,” she says. Kaz looks up at her, nodding in thought, warm to the touch. Outlined in fireglow. Alive, alive. “And what about watching it burn?”

One day he’ll have more of an answer for her. Today the best they can hope for is to be warm in the heart of a Ketterdam blizzard and to bear one another’s touch without the world spinning. To stay in the present. 

“You’re burning enough for the both of us,” he says.

At that she gives a soft laugh, or it might be the fire crackling. The heat and light are all the same. This is dangerous. Comfort is dangerous. The swelling feeling in his chest is dangerous. 

He wants to say it can’t last. But maybe he can make it last. Maybe that’s what it means to no longer be helpless. 

Her thumb brushes up and down over the top of his, the fine lines of the first knuckle. “Snow means trouble on the sea,” she says. 

“It means trouble in Ketterdam, too.” Kaz’s voice comes out particularly rough. 

“No.” Her thumb is still moving, gentle, alive, alive, alive. “I don’t mind it here.” 

[crankycripple]

pov: ur a mercher coming home to ur mercher house but there are some scary kids waiting for you who just want to talk

[jackwolfes]

@febuwhump day 9 (alt): on the run Wylan Gen | Six of Crows | TW: DubCon febuwhump masterlist

The first time Wylan does it, he is simply too cold not to.  

He can barely feel his fingers hunched in the corner of a dingey dive bar. This feels safer — just — than the low canal bridge he'd camped beneath last night. Wylan doesn't have any real idea where he is. All he knows is that he's cold, his throat hurts, and waterlogged clothes take a very long time to dry. 

Without anything else to do, and an awful lot of time to pass, Wylan watches the crowd. 

The Barrel is a motley affair, crammed with people of all sorts. This far from the larger canals there aren’t a lot of tourists. Bedraggled locals linger by the bar, beaten down by the weather or their own weariness. The younger student aged crowd — dressed in like particularly flamboyant parrots — is an energetic wave surging to and fro around the tables in a dance Wylan cannot keep up with. 

Everyone in this place is drunk; the only difference is the speed at which they get through their liquor and move onto the next glass. 

Wylan wonders what he looks like to these people, if they can see the fresh faced mercher’s brat beneath the grime of an unwashed and exhausted runaway. The uncanny feeling that they don’t care one way or another sits leaden in his stomach, but no one is really looking at him. 

Almost no one, he corrects. 

The man that comes up and offers to buy him a drink has been watching him since he came through the door. 

He whispers this to Wylan as he sips at his new drink, his arm propped up on the high-top table behind Wylan’s back. Drunken warmth exudes from his loose-limbed frame. A little dish of peanuts sits on the table beside his hand, and Wylan has to try not to eat them too quickly when they’re offered.  

If the man notices Wylan’s starving, he doesn’t comment on it. He must be able to tell with the way he leans so close. His lips brush against the shell of Wylan’s ear and send a shiver down his spine that is not steadied by the hand now settling in the dip of his lower back. Each time he breathes he brings the smell of cheap beer and tobacco deep into his lungs, reminding him of the delivery boys his father used to tell him not to associate with when they brought wares to the house. 

Wylan watched them at the kitchen door from the window of his bedroom, peering down curiously in the early hours. Sometimes, when he secreted himself away from the world in the bustling basement corridors, they’d brush past his hiding place and make him wonder. 

There’s no need to wonder about any of this, though. The hand on his back slides down to the curve of his backside, tucking first into his back pocket before seeming to decide it does not want to wait with pretense. A finger slips beneath the waistband of his trousers, skin cracked with the winter cold. 

The man sounds giddy when he says, “Come home with me and spend the night.”

Not happy, not kind. Excited and greedy, like a mercher’s son. 

Wylan doesn't know who he sounds like when he says, “Okay.”

But he does say okay, and he even says yes, which is what matters, and goes as far as gathering his meagre things and allowing this man to guide him out into the night. The rain has stopped, but the chill is omnipresent. In Wylan's chest, his heart begins to dance a staccato beat. 

The room he's brought to is cold, but dry, and soon enough he's thrown against the bed and kissed ravenously down into the mattress. Hands glide up his torso, pushing his shirt with them and dragging it up over his head. He's laid bare, but another man’s body replaces his clothes to press down against his skin. 

And it isn't bad, what comes. It only hurts a little bit, and not for that long. Wylan finishes, too.

It's just not how he imagined his first time to go. 

He didn’t think about it often, but he’d hoped for some degree of romance to the affair. Tender kissing, fewer teeth, more patience. A chance to smile. Breathless excitement rather than exhausted resignation, less embarrassment when the rougher thrusts drew out a moan. Fewer mocking laughs at the muffled, squeaky noises he made when he came.   

He didn’t expect to feel so dirty. 

After, staring at the ceiling with stars in his eyes and sticky release cooling on his lower stomach, Wylan’s skin crawls. He counts back the days to the last time he bathed and wonders when he’ll be somewhere that gives him the option. His imaginary future, the one he was never going to have, plays out like a picture reel in front of his bleary eyes as he wonders about what could have been. 

But it's so hard to mourn his virtue when he has a mattress beneath him and a blanket again, scratchy but warm. Sleep slips beneath the crease of Wylan's heavy eyelids as he settles down and falls asleep beside a stranger. 

He wakes at dawn. There is no gentle rousing; he is unconscious one moment and then wide awake, blinking in the pale light. He sniffles, mouth dry with dust that he’s breathed too much of. 

Shifting beneath the threadbare sheets makes him wince, soreness radiating out from his lower back and spreading. The past however many hours trickle back into his mind. Twelve? That feels generous. Wylan cannot be sure how long he slept, but it doesn’t feel like long enough. 

He exhales slowly, readying himself for the grief of leaving this bed. The one thing he’s certain of is that he cannot stay. There are little things, little solaces, and although two nights under dank stone bridges cannot be easily forgotten, the past few hours have hopefully gone some distance in putting it behind him. 

Wylan shuts his eyes one last time, relishing in the darkness and trying to convince himself that this is the first and last time he’ll fuck someone he does not want to for a passably comfortable bed. 

He’s never been a very convincing liar, though. 

Without looking at the man he’s left in the bed behind him, Wylan tugs on his clothes, collects his meagre possessions, and slips out silently into the unkind morning.

[catdoingblep]

Jesper: *talking shit about the merchers’ high society of Ketterdam and their questionable fashion choices in a random social event*

Wylan: Jesper, we are here not for gossiping *sipping wine* Did you see Boreg? The suit he is wearing is a crime worse than any crime Kaz has ever commited. The worst suit I've seen in my life so far, and I am living in the very same house with that purple monster you’ve bought last summer

Jesper: Yes, I know, right! Boreg is hilarious. How a person with money can even... Wait, what did you say about my purple suit?! You said you like it!

Wylan: Actually, I said that I’d like to take that suit off you... like in not seeing it on you anymore

Jesper with the most overdramatic facial expression: Wylan, I am deeply offended!

Jesper in two seconds: But you know who wears even worse outfit than Boreg? Just have a look at Schenck's wife!

[anneshirlei]

I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)

The thought had been lingering with her for a few weeks now. It was easy to understand where it had come from, with the recent events that had caused such haunting scenarios to plague her mind for the past few weeks.

Winter had just begun in Ketterdam and so had Inej’s stay in the city. This was the time when the sea would be calmest -- no mercher or slaver in their right mind would dare to cross the frozen True Sea during the season, and the few who tried usually ended up at  the bottom of the ocean. It was the perfect time for Inej and her crew to lay low, gather information, do repairs on her ship, gather supplies and, of course, allow themselves a little break for the next month or so.

A week had passed since her return and her time had mostly been spent at berth twenty-two, making sure everything that needed to be done was on track. By now, only a few had remained on the ship— the rest had found a place to stay either with their families or friends, or at a boarding house where they could enjoy the pleasures the Barrel would offer.

Her days were consumed dealing with damage control -- keeping track of what needed to be fixed or  replaced, barking orders to the crew, getting her hands dirty along with them to make sure everything was taken care of. It was only when the moon hung high and the docks began to welcome the gangs and the lowlifes that she knew it was time to go back to the Slat.

Back to Kaz.

Read more

[drieddpetals]

random wesper headcanons that have no specific universe and are also probably very out of character (all post-ck):

• in their free time, they both learn to play tennis (like the rich couple they are) and eventually get really good. they get to a point where their matches against each other are really aggressive and people watch them play like :0

• wylan will sometimes walk around the house in these really baggy sweatpants and jesper thinks it's the cutest thing ever

• wylan sneezes like a small cat, jesper sneezes like a dad. his sneeze can be picked up on seismic radars.

• jesper actually has it in him to be a really skilled cook, and post-ck starts cooking zemeni dishes for wylan (who it turns out goes crazy for zemeni food, he loves it)

• in that same vein, wylan will straight up inhale food. like if he's ever not at a nice dinner he will let loose and eat hunched over his plate, fork gripped in his fist like it's gonna run away from him, elbows firmly on the table, you get the picture. jesper is always kind of shocked by this but is like ok hell yeah and joins him

• wylan randomly asked jesper one day if he could do his hair and jesper let him try. turns out wylan is somehow a decent braider and whatnot, and the more he practices the better he gets. from then on he becomes jesper's resident hair stylist (jesper also just likes the feeling of wylan doing his hair lol)

• wylan teaches jesper music theory and they get to be music snobs together

• they'll both frequently make fun of the "prissy mercher" type and do fake posh voices to mock them, despite being the richest couple in ketterdam

• i've said this before but especially in a more modern setting i think wylan would pick up guitar really well (i think this is mostly based off the occasional pics i've seen of jack wolfe playing guitar lol)

• art museum dates. yeah.

• get really good at reading each others facial expressions and develop a reliable form of communication based off how the other just looks

• wylan wakes up at 5:30am. jesper does not lmao.

• this makes no sense even to me, and i have no reason to think this, but i feel like eventually they would get a doberman and name it like missile launcher or some shit. kaz loves it obviously.

[19burstraat]

I was having this thought the other day and wanted to hear what you think as well: one of the reasons in CK why Kaz is so against fleeing Ketterdam and wants to stay is because he didn’t have a choice to leave Lij. Jordie decided for him that leaving Lij was their best option at the time, and then going to Ketterdam was a disaster. I think that subconsciously that was something he was holding onto. He had to leave one home against his will and he wasn’t going to do that again.

I think that makes sense! The narration makes a point of saying that Kaz was 'leaving the only home he'd ever known' (or something to that effect) when they leave Lij, and it totally makes sense why he'd not want to be dragged out of another home against his will, however gruesome a home Ketterdam may be lmao. He very aggressively considers Ketterdam to be 'his' city, the Slat 'his' house and the Dregs 'his' gang. Ketterdam is his mother, who birthed him in the harbour, after all... But I think leaving would also force him to be remade again, and he would not be happy about that. Leaving Lij and going to Ketterdam killed Kaz Rietveld and brought forth Kaz Brekker; leaving Ketterdam and going to Ravka would kill Kaz Brekker, and who would be next? Kaz didn't want to find out, and I don't really blame him. Kaz Brekker does not want to be put down; he still has so much to do! So much money to make! Weird business ventures to experiment with! Merchers to terrorise!

[slumped-in-the-arms-of-fiction]

We interrupt the usual sporadically and unscheduled Hellcheer programming to post a ficlet in a fandom I've never written in before!

Have a little Kanej scene, set (spoilers for early on in Crooked Kingdom) right after Inej has been rescued.

Unravel

Inej stood in a side catacomb of the mausoleum surveying the hollow in the wall. It had presumably been created to house the dearly departed of the mercher whose name adorned the crypt, but devoid of casket and lined with a blanket it would be her sleeping quarters for the scant hours she had before the plan kicked off. It felt fitting – the exhaustion in her bones told her she would sleep like the dead.

She stretched, watching the candlelight send monstrous shadows dancing on the walls, aware of – but not tuned in to – Jesper and Wylan’s hushed bickering in the main room. She closed her eyes and breathed deep of the damp air, thankful to be among familiar sounds again. 

The Wraith was used to the silence of the shadows, the quiet of the rooftops above the clamor of the Ketterdam streets, but in those long and lonely days in Van Eck’s dark cell she craved the sounds that she knew as well as her own heartbeat. 

Nina’s contented sigh as she indulged in something delicious, and Matthias’s audible swallow as he watched her; the well-oiled click of Jesper’s guns as he cocked and uncocked them, taking aim at some imagined target before twirling and holserting them once more; Wylan’s melodic hum as he toiled over some device or elaborate technical drawing; the loping swift gait and sharp tap of a cane on stone.

Inej’s ears pricked as the last sounded in the room behind her, silencing the conversation. Hissed words followed, then a shuffling of papers and hurried steps before the sound of the door closing, clearly closed as quietly as possible. Uneven steps stopped at the entrance of the catacomb.

She supposed she should thank him for rescuing her, but she didn’t want to hear how he was protecting his investment again. She didn’t want to think of that stage and its makeshift surgery; the brutal instrument swinging high; her acceptance that she was a commodity best kept pristine. She didn’t want to think how Dirtyhands needed her – unbroken, undamaged, and ready to work.

“You didn’t have to make them leave,” she said instead without turning around.

“They were being too loud,” came Kaz’s rasp. The gravel of his voice rolled down Inej’s spine and she fought the shiver left in its wake.

“They weren’t bothering me.”

“I need you sharp.”

Inej scoffed. “If I can sleep at the Slat, I can sleep here.”

“You need to rest.”

“I will,” she snapped, finally looking over her shoulder at him. His still and ever-inscrutable gaze was locked on hers, though the angles of his face shifted between shadow and candlelight as the flame flickered between them. “I am,” she said softer.

As if showing just how committed to the cause of resting she was, she turned away from him and started loosening the long braid from its coil. Letting her hair down – literally or figuratively – was not something she tended to do in company. And while she wouldn’t be entirely relaxed – her ears still alert for danger, her body ready to spring into action – she longed for a modicum of comfort while she slept.

The braid swung free then stilled down the center of her back, the tip stopping at her waist. She reached back and pulled the tie from the end, letting the rope of hair fall back behind her. She thought the slow, deliberate ritual would assuage his fears and he would slink off somewhere to no doubt set another part of his plan into motion, leaving her in peace.

But the shadows merged and loomed on the wall in front of her as he stepped closer instead. She heard the clunk of the cane put to rest on the wall beside her, a pause, a shaky inhalation.

And then Kaz’s deft fingers were unwinding the tight braid. Slowly, methodically, more gentle than she could’ve imagined; not one hair was tugged or snagged in the seams of his leather gloves. He was careful not to touch her as he lifted the braid and slipped the strands free of their twists.

Inej tried to listen to his breathing, waiting for it to turn erratic like it did in the Fjerdan prison cart, but her heart thundered in her chest and she could focus on nothing but it and the shivers Kaz’s touch was sending down her spine through her hair.

Heat radiated off his body pressed so close to her back. So close, but not close enough. She felt herself sway, woozy with the contact, but he always stayed just out of reach.

Braid unraveled, he reached the tie at the crown of her head; she held her breath as he paused once more, letting it out in a rush as he plunged his finger into the tight loops that held her hair. He pulled, just this side of gentle, the drag on her roots sending sparks across her scalp and tearing a gasp from her lips as he slipped the tie down, slow and measured. 

Inej swallowed, her mouth falling open as if to speak, unknown words barely forming before she felt his long, elegant fingers slide into her hair, combing out the waves, caressing the tension from her scalp. Her roots ached from being pulled so high for so long, and his delicate touch soothed and excited in equal measure.

She suppressed a moan as tentative fingers dragged the curtain of hair from her ear, turning her head towards the heat of him, the ragged breath on her neck. Her eyes slipped closed.

“I’m… trying,” he said quietly, his usually composed voice stuttering, his words and the buzz of proximity tingling against her feverish skin.

In an instant she felt the cool breeze on her back and she opened her eyes to see his hand snatch the cane from its place by the wall.

His hurried steps were through the mausoleum and out the door before she realized the hand she saw had been uncovered.

Crossposted to AO3

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

hi!!! I’m losing my mind and can’t find this in the books anywhere and need to check with someone else… in any of the grishaverse books does it mention the merchers wives going to the house of barter to scrub the floors?!? I might be making this up out of my little mind but it’s so specific idk how I could be!!!

Hi my darling, so sorry for the late reply, and yes I think I know which bit you're talking about - I think you might just be struggling to find it because you've got two (strongly linked) references crisscrossed over each other, but I'm pretty sure that the part you're thinking of is about Hellgate

In chapter 6 of Six of Crows, Nina's first POV chapter, she describes the smells in Hellgate upon their arrival and the quote is as follows:

They entered a dark, surprisingly clean kitchen, its walls lined with huge vats that looked more suited to laundry than cooking. The room smelled strange, like vinegar and sage. Like a mercher's kitchen, Nina thought. The Kerch believed that work was akin to prayer. Maybe the merchant wives came here to scrub the floors and walls and windows, to honour Ghezen, the god of industry and commerce, with soap and water and the chafing of their hands. Nina resisted the urge to gag. They could scrub all they liked. Beneath that wholesome scent was the inedible stench of mildew, urine, and unwashed bodies. It might take an actual miracle to dislodge it

(In the Collector's Edition this is on page 90)

This is such an important quote for me in terms of worldbuilding and I won't go on about it now but I super quickly want to add that it is very well set up to parallel Inej's flashback in Crooked Kingdom when she says "he smelled of vanilla, but beneath it she could smell garlic"

The other section that I'm wondering if you might be thinking of is in Crooked Kingdom when they're talking about Radmakker's sister, this one was harder to find but I think this is the quote on your mind:

It was Jellen Radmakker, one of the investors tget had invited to Jesper's absurb presentation on oil futures. From the investiagtion she'd done for Kaz, Inej knew that he was scrupulously honest, a devout man with no family except an equally pious sister who spent her days scrubbing the floors of public buildings in service to Ghezen.

This is from Chapter 32 of Crooked Kingdom (page 435 in the Collector's Edition) and the scene takes place in the Church of Barter so I wonder if that's what you were thinking of?

I hope that this was helpful!! I honestly love this world building detail, I think it's so fascinating, and I think that not only can we take the second quote as a point of evidence to support the first but there are also others, such as when Alys is hemming curtains before Wylan leaves the house, that add to the validity of Nina's theory as well. Thanks so much for the ask! <33

(This has been episode 5 of 'DK Finally Gets It Together And Answers Her Asks Because It's About Damn Time (working title)' thank you very much for joining me, on the off chance anyone might be interested then the rest of the series can be found here)

[kazcreates]

The Rietveld Home

The Fabrikator-made bed, big enough to hold four people with room to spare. It took up the better half of the bedroom, and it had costed more than the house, but it was a purchase they never did end up regretting.

The wide, arching doorways that allowed one to see the entire kitchen, living room, and hall from any angle. Open and inviting, with nothing to hide. The bedrooms allowed privacy, of course, whenever one of them needed to slip away, but in the main portion of the house, they never needed to worry about whether any of them were in danger.

The acres upon acres of land that had been bought from moving neighbors, expanding the Rietveld-Fahey-Ghafa domain far beyond what little Kaz’s father had owned and tended to. A handful of well-paid, well-trusted farmhands tended the land, cared for the animals, because even with four of them, they only have so many hands.

The paintings hanging on the walls, colorful and bright and full of life. Some collected from far off lands during Inej’s voyages, others ‘acquired’ from jobs long since past; the most valuable, however, were the murals painted above the mantle and on the bedroom wall. One of the Wraith, her captain standing strong and free on the deck like the Sankta she is. The other depicting six familiar figures, smiling and proud. 

The four former criminals and merchers, retired at an early age, continuing to teach each other every day what love is. Loving and loving and loving more than they ever thought they would, they could.

[youareiron-andyouarestrong]

💛 reunion kiss / relief, you know I'm requesting kanej

Inej isn't pleased to arrive in Ketterdam and have Kaz not be there.

In fact, she's noticed that the entire city seems to be somewhat on edge now that Kaz's not currently in residence. Like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Not that that stops the Exchange from moving, the Staves from it's usual business. Or the Barrel from grinding on. But there are mutterings around the city. Mutterings about just where the Bastard of Barrel is. About where he could be hiding and just what he's plotting this time.

Ordinarily, Inej would let it go. Kaz can look after himself, even if she's not around to watch his back. (Though they both prefer it when she does.) But Jesper said Kaz was going on a trip for some kind of business, even though they both know Kaz hates travel. So she stays in the Van Eck house in Geldstraat, slips in and out of the Slat, occasionally leaving scraps of information Kaz's empty desk and once, even daring to catch a nap in his bed--though it had felt oddly illicit.

About a week after her arrival and Kaz's absence, Inej slips into Kaz's attic to actually find him there, sitting at his chair like he never left, scribbling away in one of the ledgers.

"Hello, Inej," he says, almost absently, as she steps over the window sill. "The information on Van Streep is useful; I think I can use it to push forward a deal that's been giving Wylan trouble--"

"Hello, Kaz," says Inej. "It's lovely to see you too."

He looks up that, eyes narrowed. In the faintly golden Ketterdam sunshine, he looks almost like someone carved his cheekbones out of ivory. "If that's a thinly veiled commentary on my absence..."

Inej shrugs, picking her way through the attic to him. "You're so rarely gone from the city. I was--" uneasy, off-balanced, worried--"surprised to see you gone."

"Sankta Inej concerned over the Bastard of the Barrel?" Kaz says, only faintly arid.

Inej narrows her eyes at him. "Don't blaspheme."

They eye each other, standing off. Inej moves first, eases herself on the edge of desk to his left, as Kaz makes no move to stop her. He watches her settle on his desk, his hand still curled loosely around his fountain pen.

"It felt odd, to be Ketterdam without you," she tells him now. "You--you so rarely leave the city. And the times you do--"

"Are fairly spectacular," he concedes, his mouth curling into the faintest smile. "But this was...a business trip, truly. Just laying some groundwork."

Inej gives him a suspicious look of her own. "What groundwork?" She rolls her eyes at his attempt an innocent shrug. "What power structure are you toppling now?"

Kaz looks as offended and as pious as any good mercher. "Everyone always assumes the worst of me. It's starting to get demoralizing."

"You are demoralizing," Inej says and Kaz actually grins at this, fox-like. Letting the topic go for now, Inej bends down, meeting his faintly upturned face with the lightest of kisses on his lips, no more than a brush. He sighs quietly, his hand curling around the very edge of her braid, coiled on the desk between them. "Zoro," Inej murmurs against his mouth, "I'm glad to have you back. In the city."

"Good to be back, Wraith," Kaz says, that rock salt rasp as soft as it ever gets.