#live laugh love crows theatre

[lizzypuppet1711]

things about toronto’s production of the great comet at crow’s theatre/musical stage co that i need everyone to know about because i am obsessed with this show.

as of writing i have seen this show five times.

very long under the cut:

full cast listed here. at time of writing, donna garner replaces louise pitre as marya, tyler pearse replaces lawrence libor as dolokhov, and ben carlson replaces marcus nance as andrey/bolkonsky. currently i’ve seen the og cast four times and the replacements once.

the stage is set up with seats on three out of four sides, with front rows at tables, back of house left and right sides at barstools, and a small balcony with some seats on house right. there are balconies on either side, with a revolving platform in the middle of the stage (revolving by being pushed by cast members or stagehands). seats around 200 people or so.

the actors are EVERYWHERE. it is so incredibly immersive

the music is very punchy

during prologue, everyone is taking shots as they’re introduced, except dolokhov, who drinks straight from the bottle and sprays it into the air

i’m a dolokhov girlie through and through and once he nodded hello at me during the prologue and i legit swooned

mary is walking around holding a program showing off the family tree, actors will point to them on tables etc

once anatole pointed at his face on it, pointed to himself, all in a very flirty manner

he winked at me during prologue once and i’m still thinking about it

evan buliung is acting his ass off as pierre

he is definitely is more gruff and acting focused (think dave malloy over josh groban)

at “hours at my screen”, pierre takes an audience member’s phone (from one of the tables… or once out of someone’s hands LMAO) and mimes tapping, scrolling through it etc

two stagehands move things on and offstage (such as the sofa, church props etc) and they are also in little costumes. it’s very adorable

dolokhov’s little soldier walk thing??? during moscow????? i’m sure there’s a reason for it bc both of them do it but i have no clue why it’s there???? love it tho

heeyun park as mary is also acting her damn heart out

private and intimate life has a faster tempo and is SUCH a banger as a result

an audience member gets briefly pulled up on the platform to be the cheap french thing, he typically kisses up their arm, hugs them, and sometimes sits on their lap a bit

pierre is playing the tambourine in the background during natasha and bolkonskys and it is honestly kind of funny

hailey gillis plays natasha very emotional and headstrong. her no one else has a sense of urgency, desperation, and deep longing

the platform is spinning and people are walking around and she is singing like an angel…

basically i want to be hailey gillis when i grow up

actors are rotating the platform during no one else and it ends with andrey standing behind her and pierre standing in front of her. no one talk to me i’m losing it

as the run has continued, dolokhov’s adlibs during his intro in the opera have increased drastically

lawrence libor as dolokhov had such an air and presence (rizz?) about himself i cannot DESCRIBE. the comphet he gave me… i miss him v much. he was also very much giving toronto mans. and he made SO MUCH eye contact. he loves to look at you. i miss him. i need him. who said that

tumblr theatre girlies you would go insane over lawrence libor. if this show had ANY b roll footage i know i would be seeing edits all over the place

i am president of the lawrence libor fan club and everyone should join me

tyler pearse as dolokhov has heavy frat boy energy. he is also gayer, and somehow, sluttier. gives short king energy despite only being an inch shorter than lawrence (apparently)??? don’t ask bc i don’t know either he just does. anyway thank u tyler pearse for making dolokhov bisexual for real

either way dolokhov is doing SO MUCH in this production. he is wild he is a whirling dervish he is arrogant he is a bastard he is everything to me

“YEAH BABEY LETS GOOOOOOO” -lawrence libor as dolokhov, upon his entrance

in one performance he would go YEAH BABEY three separate times in act 1. yeahh

flirting with a girl in the balcony, dabbing up a guy in the balcony, generally being hilarious

and tyler pearse leaning over the balcony, rose in his mouth, wolf howling… i can’t.

basically i can’t with this production’s dolokhov. i’m obsessed

anatole’s entrance… he’s a whore. all i can say

rita dottor (ensemble) does the high soprano bravooooooo and she always sounds so fantastic. live laugh love rita dottor

george krissa, who plays anatole, is probably the most attractive man in ontario. like if you googled hot guy he would be the first result.

“where did they find this anatole. was he made in a lab or something. he was perfect” — my friend after seeing it

tumblr theatre girlies you would also be obsessed with george krissa. like jeremy jordan andrew rannells level obsessed. please love these toronto actors with me

i’d let him ruin my life ANY DAY. it is a fact that lesbians love george krissa. i hope he knows

the way he plays it… my friend described it like “lucas steele is like an alien david bowie, and george krissa is a bridgerton man. just a very charismatic, but normal, guy”

while i would say that lucas steele’s anatole believes he is truly in love with natasha, i would not say the same for george krissa’s. some of the manipulation happening here during the opera is. quite clear

when he is entering the box natasha struggles to open her fan, fans herself frantically, under the arms etc. then when he enters immediately shifts to fanning in a cool and collected manner. hailey gillis master of comedy

“we are speaking of most ordinary things” is especially like. this is a male manipulator if i’ve ever seen one

natasha lost was added back in!! fantastic obviously

anatole checking his hair in the mirror before waking pierre up. fucker

“look dolokhov’s coming around… and we’re off to the CLEURB”

brendan wall (ensemble) walking around during the club scene with a glowstick necklace on is peak comedy to me

i’ve said it but tyler’s dolokhov is an absolute slut at this scene. and for what AND FOR WHAT!!!!

also fun tidbit but all the glasses (other than shots) and any clear bottles have real liquid in them. i am very concerned something will spill one day

when dolokhov gets right up in the audience’s face during “known only to his intimates” i LOVE it idk

during the duel, marya and rita steal off to house left directly beside the barstools and chatter about how bad of an idea this is, they’re so drunk, etc

special shout out to divine’s “he will kill you STOOPID HUSBAND” so good

dolokhov’s adlibs during the duel… i need him. sorry

dolokhov gets shot in the side rather than his shoulder, and unceremoniously rolls off the platform as it’s moving. looks painful

hélène screams when dolokhov is shot but not pierre. so much to think about here

a life changing dust and ashes from evan. i can’t describe anything more just that he’s incredible. i’ve learned so much about acting just by watching him a few times

natasha’s face at “am i guilty…” breaks my heart she is so tormented

we are canadians we are going to pronounce our french correctly! no more charmantay

hélène has started adding some very fun runs into charming as the run has gone on. divine brown marry me

anatole is shirtless during charming. btw.

again i know he’s gay and i’m gay but.

the entirety of this rendition of the ball has been stuck in my head since december

his “don’t lower your eyes i love you” that whole section is delicious i want to eat his voice

plus “BEWITCHING AND I LOVE YOUUU” UGHHH such an ear worm but only when it’s their voices

the choreo going on here is very nice btw

i love the way he says natalie at this part idk. it’s not overly enunciated and the vowel is just right <— vocal nerd

the kiss feels like it lasts forever

music gets very very loud at the end and you can feel it in your skin

also fun fact the house music before and after the show is orchestral but during intermission it’s electronic. bc. anatole. gah details

when marcus was still in the cast you could really hear his voice during letters and it sounded sooooo.

dolokhov’s stupid little thumbs up to indicate he will be ok. pleaseee. i laughed i did

generally lawrence would grab at the place he was shot at a lot; while pushing the revolve etc. loved that detail. (tyler does too but less so)

sonya and natasha just sounds so great. like they just always sound fantastic i love that song

sonya alone. yes i am weeping. yes camille eanga-selenge is everything i want to be and more. she’s phenomenal

dolokhov sitting in a big fuckin chair at the beginning of preparations just absolutely clearly regretting every decision he’s made to facilitate this. is great.

i know i keep talking abt lawrence libor but the image of him at this part is just. really great. to me. sorry

very campy and exaggerated scowling and grimacing from anatole

dolokhov is so sick of anatole’s shit

“here feel how it beats” is NOT entertained he pushes him back immediately

lawrence dolokhov’s “dawdling” business was him tuning his guitar i miss musician dolokhov sooooo much gah

balaga truly does not sing any of his lines. he is basically yelling the entire time. i don’t know how he does it. it’s chaotic and hilarious and so fun

sonya and mary hand out the egg shakers on house right and left respectfully

near the end of balaga, four audience members are brought up to dance with the cast! (i got to dance with mary once!)

dolokhov writhing on the floor during anatole’s long held note thank u

during the goodbye section, anatole comes around to said audience members and interacts with them; dancing with them, booping them on the nose etc, and at “kiss me one last time”, invites a lucky audience member to kiss his cheek. (this once, was me. yup. still processing it.)

once he accidentally knocked someone’s egg shaker from their hand, dolokhov picked it up, laughed, gave it a shake, and handed it back, and yes i’m still thinking about it

when they sit down, balaga and dolokhov will sit on the house right stairs, though once there was an empty seat nearby so dolokhov wedged his way in between two people, guitar and all. so fucking good

anatole will squeeze himself between two audience members on house left, put an arm around each, and look around at everyone sitting in that area, out into the audience, etc. if one is going to make eye contact with him, it is now

once he threw his head back to look at the people behind him, and someone, at the speed of light, took their phone out and snapped a picture of his upside down head. i scream laughed

lawrence’s BETRAYED BETRAYEDDDD was sooooo good. so so so good

hailey gillis is an absolute powerhouse during in my house

usually when “natasha’s whole body shook” she falls to the ground silently but last time i went she YELLED and i gasped so loud

at “i have refused him” louise would go NO in shock and i FREAK OUT ABOUT IT.

and i loved her “what then? would that be alright???”

“NATASHA CRIED OUT! GO AWAY! GO AWAY YOU ALL HATE AND DESPISE ME” sounds SO FUCKING GOOD!!! I LOVE YOU HAILEY GILLIS

when the call to pierre music starts i always get goosebumps

the fight choreo when pierre grabs anatole by the collar is very good

if we’re comparing to broadway, it feels less like anatole’s life is in danger here but like i’m not upset about it

at this point anatole does not seem sad or upset to me more just. pissed off that it didn’t go his way. like annoyed

as anatole leaves during pierre and anatole the staging has him stepping around/over natasha as she is choking from the arsenic and it is such a. show of his shallowness

his petersburg note is fantastic obviously. live laugh love george krissa

marcus nance (andrey) has such a deep and beautiful legit singing voice. it’s sooo gorgeous. any word that raises against marcus nance will fall.

I MISS HIMMMM ok sorry.

i am more sympathetic to ben carlson’s andrey, however. marcus was Incredibly stoic ben has a bit more emotion to him i think

i could swear sometimes hailey is actually crying during pierre and natasha

her “pytor kirillovich” sounds so tiny and fragile ugh my heart breaks

and his “…pierre” is so assuring AUGHH

it’s such a beautiful scene obviously. i love the two of them so damn much i hope only good things happen to them forever

“it was clear and cold” also. chills EVERY TIME

“having traced its parabola” and “like an arrow piercing the earth” hit me so hard i cannot explain

genuinely evan buliung gives the most effective inspiring fantastic mind blowing performance i maybe have ever seen on stage. he is such an incredible actor and he inspires me beyond belief

the end when the lights get really really bright and then fade out. god. so simple and so fucking beautiful

now this post is very long. thank u for reading it all if you did! (will update after seeing it more times if there’s things to say!!)

if you’re anywhere near toronto i BEG of you to go see it!! it’s closing march 24th :(( so if you get the chance i deeply implore you. beg borrow or steal a ticket just get there! best comet production ever in my biased opinion :)

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 on social media

Julian

He is on all the apps, you name it, he probably uses it

He's on theatre kid tiktok

Shamelessly posts thirst traps with niche references

Too many of them are doctor inspired

Perfectly understands the female gaze and takes full advantage of that

Embraces the cringe

Malak regularly photobombs his posts and there are multiple compilations of him fighting off/cussing out a shrieking crow

He canonically has a beautiful singing voice that he does not know how to use, voice coaches love duetting and reacting to him because it is so impressively terrible

He also needs to be carefully monitored though, for two main reasons:

One, all his posts need to be reviewed before he posts them, because he's terrible about internet safety

Two, because everyone gets hate comments and he already has nasty self-esteem issues

Portia gets into so many fights in the comments on her burner account

He is quite popular and has a large and dedicated following

Asra

As much potential as they have for stardom, they are an extremely private person and they are very aware of what kind of place the internet can be

He probably has BeReal and spends most of his time on SnapChat (you know he loves watching drama unfold)

Also has a very aesthetically pleasing Instagram that they forget exists. Scroll through and you'll see random photodumps of all the places they've traveled recently, spaced six months apart

Faust has her own account

He is the type to lurk, never comments, rarely likes, prefers to save something for later to show his friends in person instead of sharing or tagging them

They do love trying out what they see though, like viral pasta recipes and room lighting ideas

Except he'll add his own flashes of creativity as he goes

Sometimes it pays off, like when they got their whole living room to feel like an oasis

Sometimes it doesn't pay off, like when he tried an already sketchy viral food hack and added charcoal

They don't mind integrating social media into in-person situations, if the only thing you have energy for is cuddling up in a pillow pile and scrolling through saved videos together, they're down

Nadia

Facebook and LinkedIn

She's trying her best, she really is, but she has places to be and things to do and she'd rather spend her free time with the people she loves or getting some well-earned rest

The screens also contribute to her headaches

All her sisters are older than her, she has Facebook to keep up with them

She doesn't know that most of them keep with the times enough to have accounts on other platforms as well

She uses LinkedIn for networking, obviously

She does enjoy being entertained though! She loves it when you tilt your phone screen towards her so she can see whatever made you smile or laugh

Regularly asks you or Portia to show her everyone else's most recent posts

Julian's tiktok page is a mystery that never fails to make her laugh

She loves to be included in your posts and is always willing to pose with you for a selfie

She is a fantastic camera woman, she can follow angles and lighting like nobody's business

She does not know how to write captions

Muriel

He doesn't have one until you or Asra sit him down and walk him through the process

He chooses Instagram because he can see cat pictures that way

And because it's the platform most of you guys have an account on, so he can keep tabs on everyone

He has all of his privacy settings enabled

Most of his posts are pictures of Innana or the chickens (mostly the chickens)

No captions, ever

Every now and then someone from the Kokhuri will stumble across his profile and send a message request

He'll wait until you're free to sit with him while he messages them

He's slowly putting a family tree together of the people he's made contact with

Heartily dislikes the reels feature, the constant stimulation puts him on edge

Honestly prefers YouTube, he got a great ad blocker and he watches nature compilations and wilderness survival videos

He also watches videos about wolves so he can take care of Innana better, but he has to be careful when he does that because if the wolf in the video howls she does too

He stumbled across a fan-made compilation of Julian's thirst traps once and refuses to speak about it

Portia

Snapchat for the gossip, Tumblr for all the novels she's become a fan of, and Instagram for Pepi and her garden and baking endeavors

She is on everyone's Snapchat story. If she spots someone new at her workplace she's already sending them a friend request

Tumblr is her guilty pleasure, she has spent hours in the library devouring novels and now she can read and write as much unhinged fanfiction as she wants to

She also loves interacting with other people who enjoy the books and characters she does

Fanart makes her squeal

She hasn't found out about AO3 yet but once she does it's over

Her Instagram is gorgeous. She posts once or twice a day with garden updates, candid shots of Pepi being precious, and baking tips and tricks

Her feed is full of the wanderlust hashtag and it's fueling her bucket list

She has a decently sized following and loves it when people message her

She also has a tiktok burner account to monitor her crazy older brother

Definitely stays on top of all the trends and incorporates them into her Instagram posts

Lucio

He wants to be famous, he really does, but everything he tries flops

Obsessed with tiktok, it's where the young people are

It's also perfect for his limited attention span

Constantly trying to hop on new trends, but always misses the mark ever so slightly

Tried to put the LED light strips up in his bedroom, but he couldn't keep them straight so they're all slightly wonky

Refuses to take them down

He fell down the "alpha male" pipeline once and it took so much work to get him back out, he was insufferable

You got Nadia and Asra to give him a good beat down while you went through his phone and deleted all the accounts that couldn't be saved

You only let him back on when he promised to share his accounts with you, and he agreed on the condition that you help him try to get famous

You suggested he post about the things he knows, like self-defense tactics and survival

He gets a boost when you post a video of him trying and failing to follow a tiktok dance tutorial while he uses increasingly creative language and it goes viral

He's got a small following now and he's so proud of both of you

[smolfangirl]

Things I loved about this podcast:

Gave me all the feels - I listened to their akward first meeting at Pemberley twice back to back because it was just sooo deliciously good

Lizzie's voice actress did a great job imo, very spirited and lively and you can tell she's laughing

When Jane writes the letter about Lydia, she sounds SO distressed and it made me more emotional than I've ever felt during that scene

Mr. Darcy's voice was like honey spiked tea, every time he talked I was melting (they changed the voice actor for the last two episodes, and he's great too, just a heads-up though)

The outros get increasingly more unhinged and made me laugh out loud multiple times (iykyk: crows, bloopers, French accent)

There's stage sounds and a score to get you even more immersed

It's honestly just a fun interpretation of the story and reminded me why I love P&P

They're currently working on a Persuasion podcast, which should come out in late February of 2024, and I'm so excited!

[human-sweater-vest]

an exercise in reasons to exist:

friends who write you love notes and prose, fairy lights, collaborative spotify playlists, promises of shared apartments because rent is too high and wages are too low, over the garden wall watch parties each fall, writing music-both good and objectively bad, memes that make you laugh unexpectedly, moths on windows, dried roses in vases, set lists from concerts, relearning to love reading, seeing people’s comments in google docs of scripts, queer fiction podcasts, leaves changing color, history focused youtube channels, dogs, cats, teaching people how to play games, cribbage, putting stickers on things even though it makes you anxious, photography, playing live photos back months after they’re taken and hearing laughter, indie music, bookstores, chamomile tea, live theatre, the soundtrack to 36 questions- the podcast musical, twitter polls crowning the best shade of pink, the best avatar ship (zukka), the #1 tumblr sexyman, and more, crab rave, candles, decorative sewing scissors, the sparkle emoji, the moon, the sun, discord servers with strange names and even stranger channels, deer, embroidery, lesbians, binders, people who use your pronouns, sharing headphones with friends on busses, going for walks, dandelions, vintage teacups, the trumpet, getting dressed up incredibly fancy to go to the store, discovering a new favorite book, bald eagles, tchotchkes, music boxes, hugs, holding hands, kisses on knuckles, bonking your head against someone like a cat, lavender, having flowers you associate with people, calling fictional middle aged men “babygirl”, internet fandoms, writing meta, tumblr mutuals, fanfic, running jokes, kissing the homies goodnight, blorbos, office hours with your favorite professor, crows, ravens, raven boys (of the raven cycle), literary analysis, conversations at three am about god, ghosts, and the pando tree, the world’s largest organisms: a forest and a fungus, fly agarics poking out of the ground, instagram meme accounts, receiving playlists as gifts, being sent songs because they reminded someone of you, family photo albums, notes in the back of yearbooks, journals, buying journals you’ll never fill because they’re pretty, painting nails on floors, favorite songs, seeing pride flags in public, animated tv shows, poetry, mechanical pencils, meditation, willow trees, one day being able to see fireflies, lists of things that are good and worth staying around for

please add on if you’d like <3

[virgo-dream]

these are a few of my favourite things ✨

tagged by @aquilathefighter!!! No particular rules just vibes and a list of things I like

@littledreamling/ @chiron-crow is the thing I like most. everything else is in no particular order 🙏

my hair. it’s so fucking cool you guys

 writing

pasta. any kind.

 eating banana with honey for breakfast

tea

my dogs

 spring

autumn

doing yoga and feeling like I’m aang

the sea

swimming

 going to the movies

drawing

having an idea that makes me audibly gasp

Dreamling nation

when someone asks me if I need anything

when someone says they miss me

wearing hoodies in the cold

sleeping, napping etc

popcorn

Japanese food

freshly cooked noodles

live theatre

doing live theatre

comedy. writing comedy too

 music that makes me go “I wish I’d written that”

music that makes me go “I wish I could sing that”

 dropout funny video compilations

anything that makes me laugh so much my chest hurts

applying moisturiser

perfume

my pillow

daydreaming

the healing ordeal of being loved

orange juice

tagging: @landwriter bc I know you’ll make a poem out of this somehow. @the-cloudy-dreamer, @pintobordeaux, @staroftheendless, @immacaria, @littledreamling, @avelera, @moorishflower. @softest-punk ✨

[shannananan]

Incomplete list of 2023 TV & Movies - I’ve been adding to this list all year without any revisions passed initial reactions. 2023 really served loads of anticipated adaptations, sequels and original content. It felt like we were truly in a sweet spot of beautiful things put to film. 

Starting in chronological order of when I saw each, and yes, i know there’s still ones I missed.

--

January - The Legend of Vox Machina Season 2: 9/10 Chroma Conclave, Kaylie, Matron of Ravens, surprising amount of Pikelan

February - The Last of Us: 9/10 Im new in town so going into this show at face value has been a delightful horror

March - Shadow & Bone Season 2: 7/10 Writing went out the window in episode 7 or would have been higher. Would have been lower if Crows weren’t cast in actual perfection

April - Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves: 10/10 Truly the most fun at the theatres in years. 

May - Queen Charlotte: 9/10 i was not prepared to sob uncontrollably for a solid 20 minutes

May - Guardians of the Galaxy 3: N/A  I can’t properly assess this movie. I was in an absolute horrible state the day I saw it and given the themes of the film, I sobbed for nearly two hours straight. Did I enjoy it? No. Is it an incredibly written and acted rage-filled magnum opus? Absolutely. 

June - The Little Mermaid: 7.5/10 Surprised how delightful it was. Eric & Ariel’s chemistry was excellent, the changes gave the characters more depth. Detracted points for the Scuttlebutt Rap.

June - Across the Spiderverse: 15/10 Perfection and then some. 

June - Nimona: 8/10 What an absolutely refreshing delight

July - Dragon Prince Season 5: 7/10 Lost me in the first half but damn that pirate arc came thru

July - Barbie: 10/10 Perfection, no notes. The first absolutely sold out movie theatre experience in years and the entire audience was in pink. S U B L I M E

August - Good Omens 2: 8/10 ... 9/10 so long as we get a season 3. (December update: Okay we did it kids)

August - Oppenheimer: 8/10 Wonderfully executed. RDJ snapping up that Supporting Actor award. Excellent twist and beautiful all around. could’ve shaved about 40 mins off. 

August - Heartstopper 2: 7/10  saccharinely sweet in the best way, i think i am just a bit too elder millennial for high school shows now

August - Red White & Royal Blue: 6/10 (upon rewatch with the girlies - 8/10) Are parts of it cringey? Yes. Are parts of it surprisingly lovely? Yes Perfect girls night rom-com. 

August - Strange New Worlds: “Those Old Scientists”  13/10    “Subspace Rhapsody” 15/10 Perfection. No Notes. 

September - One Piece Live Action: 8/10 I’m new in town with no previous interaction with the anime or manga (beyond osmosis from friends) and it was an utter delight

September - Blue Beetle: 7.5/10 Honestly a fantastic origin superhero movie. If it had come out before Superhero movie fatigue and hadn’t gotten lost in the strikes, this is a solid movie. They got the family dynamic RIGHT. 

October - Book Extra: Percy Jackson & The Chalice of the Gods: 10/10 can’t even be mad that it was short cause more books are coming

October - Podcast Extra: Strike Force Five: 9/10 Going into Episode 5 innocently before any lore had been built around has got to be the hardest I’ve laughed at any media for over an hour for a long time. i had a headache afterwards

October - Our Flag Means Death Season 2: 8/10 My perfect show isn’t perfect anymore and that’s okay. MVP of the season was blackbeard’s wig 15/10

November - The Marvels: 6/10 I really really wanted to like this movie. The weight of the MCU brought it down and muddied the screenplay into something mediocre rather than letting it lean into a genre film. I will give it props that the use of Memory healed something in my soul that fundamentally broke during Cats (2019). 

November - Killers of the Flower Moon: 9/10 The horror is in the slow, quiet, mundanity that stretches through the entire film. with impeccable performances by Lily Gladstone and Robert de Niro. It is not a comfortable or easy watch and I absolutely understand the Indigenous critique of the film and that there is space for layered discussions. 

December - The Hunger Games: A Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes: 9/10 Having not read the book and not revisiting THG series since it’s cultural zeitgeist, it was amazing how easy it was to fall back into the world. This film carries a different kind of dirtier grounded authenticity that hits closer to the world we live in right now than the later stories in the world. The interweaving of music is masterful and no one is doing it like Rachel Zegler right now. A villain doomed by his own hubris, paranoia, and drive for power, this was an incredible origin story 

December - The Boy & The Heron: 9/10 When the movie ended i just sat there thinking “that was one of the most beautiful things ive ever seen”. Did I understand all of it? No. And thats okay. Esoteric, whimsical, emotionally driven by grief and a child trying to understand mortality. It had all the Miyazaki hits: funky lil round friends, mouth-watering food, the most unhinged lil grandmas, a beautiful world doomed for destruction, a weird little man, a highly competent badass lady, and the most existential questions about existence. 

December - Percy Jackson & The Olympians (so far): 9/10 With only 3 episodes released before the end of the year - it’s incredible. PJO fans are winning. Jason Mantzoukas is perfect casting. The trio have so much chemistry. I would die for Grover, Aryan is killing it.

December - Honourable Mention: Silver Skates (2020): 12/10 Stumbled onto this Russian movie on Netflix and It. Has. Everything. You want Six of Crows and Peaky Blinders on skates? You want Russian-knock-off Tom Holland? It’s serving Anastasia/Titanic/Moulin Rouge. The cinematography is stunning. My heart would not stop racing. 

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz Brekker x fem! Reader - If You Dare

A/n: I should hopefully have some more stuff out soon so... yay! And this request was great, I had so much fun writing this!

Warnings: Possessive/jealous Kaz, language, mentions of murder, I think that's it? You have been warned!

Request: I'd love to request a Kaz Brekker x reader! Maybe one where Kaz and the reader like each other, but haven't said anything yet. One day, Y/N’s brother visits the crow club, (nobody knew she had a brother) and her brother kisses her on the cheek and greets her and everything. Just some jealous/possessive Kaz not knowing the context of the cheek kiss, maybe some fluff too where Y/N and Kaz admit their feelings in the end :)) Tysm for reading❤️❤️

I do not own Six of Crows or the grishaverse!

Everyone knew that Y/n was Brekker's girl.

It was funny because any possible 'suitors' for Y/n magically disappeared but no one said anything. Of course, they didn't, if they wanted to keep their lives then they wouldn't dare.

That was fine, everyone just kept to themselves and prayed to the saints that they weren't a possible threat to Dirtyhands. What frustrated the Crows is that neither Y/n nor Kaz would admit their feelings towards each other.

The Crows (for once) were all down in the crow club not planing one of their evil heists that usually mess up the world, today they were just relaxing.

Well, maybe not Kaz. Kaz never really fully relaxed, at least not with so many people around.

He saw Y/n laugh with Inej and Nina and he couldn't help the way his eyes travelled down her body or the way that he wanted to keep hearing that laugh on repeat for the rest of his life.

He also couldn't help the fact that he wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that.

Kaz sighed internally, even he knew, the bastard of the fucking barrel is head over heels for Y/n L/n. The girl who would make him dance in the rain with her, the girl who he would gladly kiss if it wasn't for his touch aversion.

She perched her head up a bit and scanned the crowd seemingly looking for something.

Or someone.

Kaz felt something boiling bubble up in his gut but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Why would Y/n be looking for someone? It better not be for a date...

Okay, maybe he did know what he was feeling at the moment because he felt it almost every day when another person was around Y/n that wasn't him.

And fuck, he knew it was because he was no good. She deserved so much more than someone who couldn't even brush his hand up against someone without getting near to a panic attack. But he couldn't, he really couldn't get out of the mood he was in now till the situation was over. Trust him he tried.

A man who was fairly good-looking comes up behind Y/n and tackle's her into a hug. He nearly goes up to stand but she starts laughing and embracing the boy like they haven't seen each other in years.

He grips onto his cane harder than he ever has in his life. Don't make a scene, don't make a scene. Please, don't make a scene.

Y/n giggles and kiss's the boy on his cheek and all his self will goes out and dies in the harbour.

He shoots up out of his seat and walks faster to Y/n and the terrible man than he should with his bad leg and slams his cane in between the two. He glares his worst glare basically seeing red when he looks at the man and all of him wants to bash his head in as an example to everyone. His mind doesn't even think it's a bad plan but he knows Y/n would not like whoever this was to die like that so he would have to somehow come up with another plan.

"If you dare look at her again you won't ever see again," Kaz says lowly and icily calm contrasting to what he's really feeling inside. Red hot rage burst's inside him becoming an ugly green that grows and infects him.

"Kaz!" Y/n semi-yells trying not to make a scene, but he was sure eyes were already on him. He was Dirtyhands after all.

He turns to her sharply knowing his expression isn't one that even a spider would want to see but it sits on his face all the same.

"What." He growls out trying so hard to not snap at the angel before him.

Without thinking his gloved hand goes to lightly touch her neck and he doesn't feel nausea and sickness. He only feels the warmth of the girl that he loves even with the gloves on. Fuck he loves her, and he had to admit it to himself right now?

She visibly shivers at his touch like she enjoyed it but her face quickly turns back to the angry one that she was wearing before.

"He's my brother!"

Now that he thinks about it he did look similar to Y/n, and the context of everything looked more sibling-like more than anything. How the hell did he not see it? He groaned on the inside, he was never doing anything without thinking it through first again. He guessed that plan was shit though because he could barely think around Y/n.

Speaking of Y/n...

The young woman growl and he feels his eyebrows raise. Oh shit. She balls her hands into fits and stomps off. He tries not to run after her but because of his leg, he can't go nearly as fast as she can and he quickly falls behind.

"Y/n!"

He gets to her room and she slams the door in his face.

Great.

He picks the lock of the door for a few minutes as he curses himself for letting her use one of the harder locks to get into. But after just under a minute he hears the familiar click and he slides open the door.

Luckily the girl is in her room and he's happy that she didn't run off right away. Though her arms are crossed around her chest and even someone standing two buildings away could tell this girl was pissed beyond hell.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" She says lowly trying not to yell at him.

He wasn't thinking, all he could see were his arms around her and her lips on his cheek. Kaz was surprised he managed a sentence when he decided to make a 'scene.'

"I haven't seen him in years! Kaz, years! All I wanted was a happy reunion but you had to screw that up too!" She throws her hands in the air in exasperation.

Kaz knew that she wasn't planning on staying in Ketterdam at first and he didn't even know why she did stay, but his friends (or the closest people he could call friends) told him it was because of him. Brushing off that topic before was easy, but now look where it got them.

"I wasn't thinking." He finally finds the right words and breaks the silence that was washing over them both.

Don't screw this up Brekker.

"I didn't think he was your brother."

"So what? I was just another investment you had to protect because you thought I was stupid." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. He swallowed trying to find the right words. But he couldn't, there were just no words how he could describe how he feels for her.

So show her dumbass.

Slowly taking off his gloves he place's a hand on her cheek. It's feather-light and barely there, but he doesn't feel the cold or the waves and he doesn't feel like he's drowning. Her skin feels warm and it makes him feel alive, he hasn't felt like that in what seems like forever.

"Oh." Is the only thing that comes out of her mouth and she smiles a bit?

He rolls his eyes at her and takes his hand away. "Ya, oh." He rasps.

Y/n reaches out and carefully takes his left hand in hers and slowly but surely they intertwine their hands together.

Her smile slowly fades away as she looks at their hands.

"What are we?" The question hangs in the air creating more space in between them than ever before. Kaz close's his eyes for a second and lets that hungry feeling wash over him. The feeling of jealousy and the feeling of possessiveness when he thought she was with another man.

But then he lets the little moments warp him in their warm embrace. The moments when she offhandedly mentioned that what her favourite flower was, so then those flowers would just appear in her room. Or when she saved him and he couldn't think of any moment where she looked more beautiful, more saint-like, more like herself than ever. He sucks in those moments never letting them go.

"You are mine." His other hand goes to her neck again. "And I am yours." He lets his eyes rake her body committing every single little detail to memory and he sees her blush faintly a bit as he drinks her in.

They stand there in silence just enjoying each other's presence till Y/n looks up at him an oh shit look in her eyes.

"How the hell are we going to explain this to my brother!?"

Words 1480

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung

[bookshelf-in-progress]

The Dust That Falls From Passing Stars: Part 1/3

Snow clouds covered the midnight sky, but it seemed the stars were all down here tonight. Stars poured light from street lamps onto snow-covered cobblestones.The glowing heavenly stones glimmered from the coats and necklaces of the wealthy theatre patrons who bundled into plush carriages.  A star even glowed at Lorenz’s throat—a bright green star in a cloak pin that would grant him entry to the House Diriks ball. Once, such a pin would have been an impossible dream, but in his year of fame, wearing it had become almost routine.

In a crowd as grand as this, there was no chance of finding a cab in the after-show rush. Better to walk the eight blocks than stand like a beggar in the snow.  

A voice from the street called, “Fortuin!”  

Snow crunched beneath Lorenz’s boots as he stopped in white glow of a star lamp. He lifted his top hat and saw a hatless man in a blue silk suit leaning out of a carriage caught in the crush of traffic.

Lorenz acknowledged him with a wide-armed wave. “Evening, Coeman.”  

The star jeweler’s son’s eyes had an alcohol glaze. “Look at you!” he crowed. “All dressed up for a party!”

Lorenz and Coeman were both shopkeeper’s sons, but that was like saying a hovel and a palace were both houses. Lorenz came from a long line of grocers, while wealth fell from the heavens onto Coeman’s family lands. Coeman was ever amused by those who worked for their living.

Coeman cried, “Did the lady unchain you from the piano?”

Lorenz gave a thin smile. “Even genius needs refreshment.”  

Coeman laughed. “Only you’d call a walk in a snowstorm refreshing.”

The light dusting of flakes could scarcely be called a shower, much less a storm, though it probably seemed like one compared to the plush comfort of a starfall family’s carriage.  

Lorenz shrugged, then smiled, pretending indifference. “I’ll get there faster than you.” 

He strode away, leaving Coeman and his carriage stuck in the crush of traffic.  

From the street, voices shouted, horses wickered, wheels clattered upon cobblestones, and Lorenz wove among the hoop skirts and overcoats of his fellow sidewalk pedestrians. As Lorenz turned a corner, his cloak billowed, and a hand caught upon the hem and held him fast.  

He stopped, then looked down into the dirt-covered face of a ragged young girl, a small, shapeless form somewhere between eight and eighteen, who sat in the gutter holding a small jar of glittering dirt.  

She lifted it toward Lorenz’s hand. “Stardust, sir? Two pennies a pinch.”  

Even if he had a cigarette to light or needed his hands warmed, the girl’s stardust wouldn’t have done anything—it was ten times more dirt than dust. Incompetent even for a dustgirl.  

He yanked his cloak out of her hand, but pity soon overcame his annoyance, and he dropped a silver krenin in the girl’s lap.  

Her eyes shone as if he’d tossed her the star at his throat. “God bless you, sir.”  

Lorenz tipped his hat and strode away. A bit of blessing and a lot of hard work had brought him to his current heights. He loved that success gave him the means to become one of those towering figures of generosity that so lifted up the downtrodden.  

That lofty feeling carried him all the way to the entrance of House Diriks. The house’s towering gray façade dominated the street, a castle within the city limits, built to with all the embellishments of current architectural fashion. Crystalline windows gushed starlight into the cold and dark of the city, illuminating the arriving guests. The carriages were like wheeled palaces, and the people coming out of them wore silks and velvets and furs that glistened in the glow of the stars they wore on their necks and ears and hands.  

In that colored crowd, there was one spot of brown. A ragged girl, older than the one Lorenz had seen near the theater, held a small clay jar that faintly glimmered with stardust. Yet she didn’t offer the ladies stardust to adorn their faces and necks, didn’t approach the gentlemen with an offer to light a cigar. Instead, she scurried away, her eyes on some distant destination.  

Very strange. What dustgirl would waste such an opportunity? These people would carry her week’s salary as pocket change, and would likely throw a good portion of it at her feet just to keep her from coming too near. She hadn’t been chased away, and she hadn’t so much as looked at the crowd. Leaving could only mean she had better plans in mind, and Lorenz, his curiosity piqued, decided to discover them.  

He trailed her along the house’s western wing, sticking to the shadows between the glowing windows. Wide balconies extended from all the rooms on the upper floor, all filled with laughing, chattering party-goers who glowed in the light of the stars they wore. Aestus stars glimmered like flames to warm their lightly gloved hands. A hundred colors of decorative stars adorned necklaces, tiaras, earrings, cuff links, and were even sewn directly into ball gowns and suit coats. A thousand captured constellations that made it look as though their wearers had fallen from the heavens.  

The winter winds blew scraps of stardust from their finery. It whirled in the wind, blew over the balcony, and scattered on the sidewalk below. This shower—not the spectacle above—drew the dustgirl’s eyes, and she knelt on the snow-slicked stone beneath it, scraping with cold-chapped hands on the ground as she raced to gather as much stardust as possible into her battered clay jar.  

Lorenz found himself entranced by the tableau—the bright and laughing elite above and the earthy desperation below. There was cruelty here, but also beauty, something that pierced deep into the true nature of things in a way that he rarely considered. He could make a lyric out of this—not one of his light, theatrical pieces, but a real and honest piece of poetry. The complacent rich who wore the heavens at their hearts without a thought, and a girl who thought herself fortunate to gather up the crumbs. A downtrodden soul who scratched in the dirt, yet came up covered in the dust of the stars.  

When the ground had been cleared of its heavenly bounty, the girl turned her attention to the still-falling flakes. Could she capture it all, Lorenz wondered. How would she separate the stardust from the falling snow?

As if in answer, she unwound her ragged cloak from her shoulders and spread it like a net between her arms. Half the flakes faded within moments of landing on the fabric. Lorenz’s heart flared in admiration as he caught the trick of it. Her body-warmed cloak melted the snowflakes, leaving her with a haul of pure stardust cleaner than anything that could be gathered by any other dustgirl in the city.  

He felt a strange connection to this girl, who took such pride in doing such a humble job so well. He’d never looked at a dustgirl with anything other than pity, or perhaps relief that his family had never fallen so low. But here was courage, enterprise, intelligence, and Lorenz found it more inspiring than anything he’d seen from tonight’s crowd of starfall elites.  

As the girl bobbed and weaved beneath the stardust shower, a deep-voiced shout shattered the peace.  

“You! Girl!” A thick-limbed guard in the blue and silver of the House Diriks staff raced toward her, boots clattering. “Get gone, you filthy scavenger!”  

The tableau shattered. The girl crushed her cloak to her chest and tried to run, face white with panic. As she pivoted, her foot slipped on a patch of ice and she landed on the ground in a tangle of limbs.  

“Get gone!” the guard shouted again. “We don’t need rat-thieves crawling ‘round!”

The girl scrambled into a sitting position, but still failed to find her feet. The guard removed a thick cudgel from beneath his cloak and drew his arm back for a blow.  

Before Lorenz could think, he stepped out of the shadows, grabbed the girl’s shoulders, and pulled her out of the path of the descending club. She slid easily on the ice, and the guard stumbled as his cudgel met empty air. As the guard flailed to keep his balance, his weapon caught Lorenz on the shoulder.

Lorenz barely felt it through his anger. He unbent himself and demanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”

The guard found his feet, but his tongue faltered, stunned as he stared at this unexpected gentleman. “My…apologies, sir. I didn’t see…”  

“Is this how you treat innocent women? Beatings and blows?”  

The guard snapped, “She’s a thieving scavenger, sir.”  

At his feet, the shivering girl looked at the ground, ashamed in a way she hadn’t been while gathering the stardust, as if the guard’s words had the power to turn her into the very thing he claimed she was.  

It reminded Lorenz of some of the things that had been said about him in his early days in high society. It softened his heart and hardened his resolve. He’d do what he could to make the guard look at this girl with the respect she deserved. With all the indignation he felt, he shouted, “A thief, sir? She is my guest!”  

Lorenz squared his shoulders, straightened some folds in his cloak, and loosed the cloakpin at his throat to show it to the guard. The silver setting bore the crossed swords and crescent moon of the House Diriks crest, and the center of it held a polished fragment of a glowing green star. “I am Lorenz Karel Fortuin, and my patron is Lady Diriks herself.”

The guard gazed at the pin, his face growing white. “That’s real.”  

“It is.”  

“And this girl is your guest?”

Thankfully, the night’s shadows hid details. Lorenz draped his now-unfastened cloak over the girl before the guard could get a better look at her clothes.  

Lorenz murmured to the girl in soothing tones. “I told you to dress warmer, Anya.” Anya was a good name—vague enough to apply to peasant or princess.  

As the shock passed, the guard grew more truculent. “Why was she gathering stardust?”  

Lorenz asked, “What girl could resist a glittering starshower? It’s not illegal—fair falling stardust is public property.”  

The guard didn’t seem quite convinced, so Lorenz turned his attention to the girl. He examined her face, crusted with sweat and snowflakes, cheeks chapped red from the cold. Her mouth was hanging open in surprise, and her brown eyes were wide with shock and hope. “Has he hurt you?” Lorenz asked.  

“No,” she said.

“I’m glad of it,” he said gently. Then he turned back to the guard and snapped, “You ought to be glad of it, too. Harming a guest of House Diriks? Your lady would not be pleased.”

The guard’s pale, slack face suggested that he understood all too well what he’d escaped.  

Lorenz helped the girl to her feet. She was taller than he’d realized, but impossibly thin. Swathed in his cloak, she looked breakable as glass.  

“Stand tall,” he whispered, and when she stood more like a frightened lady than a battered street urchin, he escorted her past the baffled guard.  

The guard watched them go with narrowed eyes, and Lorenz cast one cautious glance back toward the balcony. Most of the crowd stood heedless of the scene below, but a few sharp eyes followed Lorenz and his guest. Fortunately, he had plenty of experience in crafting scenes for balcony crowds.  

Lorenz led the girl toward the house’s main doors and urged her toward the white silver-veined marble of the main staircase. “Let’s get you inside.”  

She gave him a sharp, shrewd glance, more like her old self with the guard out of reach. “What are you doing, sir?”  

Her words held a hundred other questions. Who are you? Why are you helping me? What are your intentions? He couldn’t hope to answer them with the eyes of House Diriks upon them.  

“I’m helping you,” he whispered. He gestured in the guard’s direction with his eyes. “Until he’s out of the way.”  

She took a step away from his side, and for a moment, Lorenz thought she’d bolt with his best cloak. But she merely examined him, top to toe, and seemed to come to some internal decision. “Thank you, sir,” she said, and started up the stairs.  

The great blue doors opened before her, granting them entrance into the warmth and light of the House Diriks foyer. Lorenz bustled his guest past the outstretched hands of the attendants and toward a fireplace set between the curving staircases. She stared wide-eyed at everything they passed.  

Lorenz smiled at her. “What do you think?”  

“So bright,” the girl breathed.  

Hardly fine poetry, but not an uncommon reaction upon entering the Dirik’s family’s city home. The Diriks House starfall was the prime landing place for solara stars—the largest and brightest that fell to Earth, with the purest, whitest light. Their decorations emphasized it on this dark midwinter night, with the crowning glory of a silver-limbed chandelier, holding half a thousand stars. Their light glinted off the silver veins in the marble flooring and the gilding in the deep blue wallpaper, sparkled on the bits of snow that swirled through the doors and brightened the eyes of the dustgirl guest who stared in wonder at it all.  

He brought her to a wooden chair near the fireplace, hidden behind a marble pillar holding a bust of a House Diriks founder.  

Here in the light, he could finally get a good look at her. She was thin and slight, but she was older than he’d realized—twenty at least, with softness to her face but a shrewdness in her eyes that hinted at experiences that had aged her further. Her hair was that indeterminate color between yellow and brown, wrapped in a ragged crown around her head. Her nose was dripping from the cold—he offered her a handkerchief before she wiped it on his cloak—and her eyes were as bright and green as the star in his House Diriks cloak pin.  

“Are you well?” Lorenz asked her. “You took a nasty tumble.”  

“He didn’t hurt me,” she said, speaking for the first time in more than a whisper. Her accent flattened and elongated her vowels—as stereotypical a specimen of the city’s lower classes as he’d ever heard. Lorenz had worked long and hard to train similar—though never so strong—tics out of his own voice.  

“Did you keep the dust?” he asked.  

Her dark eyes flashed. “It’s mine by right. I didn’t steal it. It fell fair, right to the ground.”  

He dampened a smile. “I don’t plan to take it from you. The law’s on your side, so long as you didn’t knock anyone down to shake it loose.”  

“I didn’t,” she insisted.  

“There you go.” He couldn’t keep a lilt of amusement from his tone.  

The girl caught it and scowled. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I told you. To get you away from the guard.”  

“What’s that matter to a gentleman like you?”  

He understood her suspicions. Many among the upper classes had little patience with their inferiors. “I guess I’m not as much of a gentleman as I appear.”  

She went white, and seemed to try to fuse herself to the back of her chair.  

“No!” Lorenz gasped, realizing the double meaning too late. He felt ill at the thought. “That was not an innuendo. I have no ungentlemanly intent toward you.”  

The terror in the girl’s eyes changed to something livelier and more glittering. Almost as though she was laughing at him. “Don’t fret, sir. I believe you.”  

Gruff with embarrassment, he said, “I only meant that I wasn’t born to this world.” Wasn’t much above a dustgirl myself when I started out.”  

That amusement changed to interest. “That so, sir?”

He puffed up a little. “Rose through my own merit.”  

“And you got a starfall lady’s crest. Is she sweet on you?”  

Lorenz tried and failed to imagine Lady Diriks feeling tender emotions toward anyone, and felt ill at the thought of her pursuing someone so far her junior. “Lady Diriks is my patroness. I’m composer and lyricist at one of her theaters. I write showtunes, operettas.”

“They’ll pay you money for anything, these starfall swells.”  

Pride wounded, Lorenz squared his shoulders. “They’re excellent songs. I’ll bet even you’ve hummed a tune or two by Lorenz Fortuin.”    

Her dark eyes stared into the distance before brightening with recognition. “That song about the lady!”  

Lorenz wanted to point out this didn’t much narrow down the canon of music, but then she softly sang the first bars of a tune that was clearly “Nightingale’s Lament.” A surprisingly smooth alto.  

“One of my better ones,” Lorenz said.  

She smiled. “It’s pretty. I sing it to the little ones sometimes.”  

“You have children?” he asked in surprise. She was old enough for it, he supposed, but not by much.  

“Sisters,” she explained. “Three of ‘em. Oma watches them when I’m working.”  

Supporting three young girls—and possibly, a grandmother—on pinches of stardust. It was poverty he couldn’t imagine.  

He couldn’t think of anything to say in response. “I suppose,” he said, brushing the toe of one foot on the marble floor, “that you’ll need to be getting back to them.”  

“Eventually,” she said, settling into her chair with a sigh. “But it’s cold out there and this fire’s so warm.” She closed her eyes, languid and content.  

Her few minutes in the warmth had transformed her. The hard-edged desperation of the street had softened, and her pale, cold-chapped face had taken on a warmer glow. By now, the guard would be long gone, the balcony crowd distracted by their own amusements, but he couldn’t imagine forcing her back into those freezing streets so soon.

The girl looked at the fire, the star-filled chandelier, the skirts and furs and star necklace of a passing duchess.  “I’ll have one hell of a story to tell them at dawn.” They won’t believe the things I’ve seen.”  

The words sparked a wild idea, more brilliant than the stars around them. Following the impulse, he asked,  “Would you like to see more?”  

She looked at him warily. “How do you mean?”  

“I really am allowed to bring a guest to these events.”  

Her expression became hard and skeptical. “You want me to stay?”  

“Why not?” Lorenz asked. His mind supplied a dozen answers, but his showman’s side and his romantic side teamed up against his more practical inner voice. Even a dustgirl had a right to see a glorious spectacle once in her life, and what could compare to a midwinter House Diriks ball?

The girl tugged Lorenz’s cloak around her snow-stained clothes. “For one thing, I ain’t dressed for it.”  

Caught up in the excitement, his imagination spun glorious possibilities and leaped over obstacles. “House Diriks provides fully-staffed powder rooms for these parties. The maids can clean you up. Your dress will be a charmingly rustic costume.”  

She looked up those stairs with longing. “Do you think so?”  

A significant part of Lorenz didn’t, but it was tackled and sat upon by his more optimistic side.  

“Just picture it,” Lorenz said. “The finest music, the most illustrious people. Food from the finest chefs on the continent. There are people in the city’s oldest families who can’t enter a House Diriks ball, but you could be an invited guest.”  

He was drunk on the drama of it. It was madness, but such glorious madness. A melodrama fit for his finest operettas. The downtrodden dustgirl, pulled from the gutter to experience one night of luxurious enchantment. He would be her generous benefactor, her benevolent guide to this elegant world.  

Her eyes sparkled in the starlight. His enthusiasm was infecting her. “You really mean it, sir?”  

“I do.”  

She grinned. “I’ll stay.”  

He clapped his hands together in satisfaction. “Excellent! You won’t regret it.” He put his hand behind her back and began to lead her away from the seat behind the pillar. “I’ll be Lorenz to you, if you’re to be my guest. You’ll need to be Anya for the night. Those on the balcony may have overheard us.”  

“That suits me,” Anya said.  

He led her away from the fireplace and toward a yellow-papered door in a small alcove. “Very well, Anya. Let’s get you ready for the ball.”  

[preferablyketterdam]

Part 2 ~ Her Heart Was A River

"Ketterdam," Inej announced, throwing her arms open, displaying all the glory of the Lid. "Where to begin?"

Kaz fought to keep neutral. He tried to focus on the pain in his leg, to ground him, keep the strange burning behind his eyes at bay, but his leg was only a steady throb, one he was well used to. He'd replaced his gloves after taking them off to shake Inej's mother's hand, the wave of nausea almost worth Inej's look of awe, so pinching himself was out of the question. He settled for biting the inside of his cheek, hard.

He made to slip away as Inej gabbled away to her family in incomprehensible Suli, the language rolling off her tongue, so at odds with the harshness of Kerch. They started down the West Stave, but Inej turned around, and grabbed Kaz's shoulder. Kaz started, but felt nothing - no slippery hands grabbing at his ankles, no creeping revulsion. Her hand was warm.

"Don't be awkward, Brekker," she said softly in Kerch. "Come with us. I've already been warned about dangerous gangs that are rumoured to haunt these streets..." she glanced sideways at her father, and Kaz nearly laughed aloud, despite himself. "Besides, you know these streets as well as I. Be our tour guide, Kaz." She patted his arm, and slipped back between her parents. The look of relief and love on their faces set Kaz's stomach churning.

"At first glance, Ketterdam is a dump the Saints forgot," Inej announced in Suli as they continued down the packed street. "It was built on a swamp. The canals were dug to drain the swamp, set in stone and sand many hundreds of years ago. Nothing of use grows here, only a scentless white rose, and the houses tilt on the still-soft foundations. No animals thrive other than rats, crows and street dogs, unless you have the money for a horse, which is of no use because the roads are not wide enough. You are right, Papa, the streets are dangerous at night, and at day too. They often come alive with gunfire and blood."

Kaz didn't understand a word, but the growing horror on both Inej's parents' faces gave him a good indicator. She hastened to reassure them as they continued down the canals, pointing out theatres and notorious pleasure houses as they went by.

"But Ketterdam is resilient. The greatest universities in the world are here, places full of learning and wisdom. Though the houses tilt, they stand firm. Ketterdam is a city of imperfections, and that makes it perfect."

"You certainly speak Kerch well," Mama noted. "Did Kaz teach you?"

She looked over her shoulder and smirked at Kaz, limping along behind them, who had understood Kaz, and nothing else. Inej's face fell, and she hurried onto something else. Kaz ground his teeth and offered a smile, a little more forced than before.

"In a way, yes, Kaz helped me improve my Kerch. In fact, listen -" Inej threw him a wicked grin so similar to her mother's that it was astonishing. "We're talking about you," she said, deliberately slowly, in Kerch.

Kaz's nostrils flared. This was unacceptable.  "I have business in the Gelden District, Wraith, and if your -"

"Oh good, we'll come with you," Inej interrupted briskly, eyes twinkling. "I'll introduce them to Wylan and Jesper, though the massive hole I'm the ceiling might be difficult to explain. Lead the way, grand illustrious Dirtyhands. Ooh, I wonder how I could translate that into Suli."

Kaz thought he might strangle her, but he currently owned less than the beggars that lived in the alleys thanks to the Wraith, and he would hate to have such a valuable investment abandoned at berth twenty-two.

He told himself that was it, anyway.

Inej continued to chatter as they made their way across bridges, winding roads, sun blocked by the shadow of tall houses. Even in daylight, the decorative façades of the pleasure houses and theatres stood out like a beacon amidst a bleak and colourless town as they made their way across the Barrel and across Ketterdam.

"Do you know what I do sometimes? If I'm in a hurry, or I want to be alone, I will scale the walls and make my way across town over the rooftops. Walking a ridgepole is as close as Ketterdam gets to the tightrope."

Papa laughed, but his eyes were still serious. "Ever the performer. Oh, my little Inej, all these years..."

"Later, Papa," Inej said quickly. "My tale is not one for bright sunlight."

Mama squeezed her arm, giving her silent encouragement. Inej shook her head. "I have done things I am not proud of, Mama. Things that I am ashamed of, that I hate myself for, that you will hate me for. I will tell you everything, I promise, tonight even - but please, just give me this moment."

"Inej, we could never -"

"No, Papa," Inej interrupted. "All I will say is that Kaz helped me through it. After some time, I made other friends, but Kaz helped me when I was alone and vulnerable and could barely speak the language of this strange and hostile country. Kaz helped me thrive." They had reached Wylan's place, what was once the grand Van Eck mansion, and stood before it, looking up at the marble columns and high windows.

Inej led her parents up to the front steps, where she rang the bell, but Kaz waited by the gate, leaning heavily onto his cane.

Jesper opened the door. Inej made introductions, smiling all the while. As it turned out, Inej's mother knew a little of the Zemeni language from her travels before marriage. She took to Jesper instantly as he led them inside, with wide smiles and words of welcome. Kaz might have left them to it, had Inej not lingered in the doorway.

On an impulse, she went back down to Kaz. His chest gave a funny little skip as she turned to face him, sunlight gilding her face.

"I don't know what to say," she said, smiling, tears welling up.

"Then think about it," Kaz said, a little too harshly, before she could say anything else. He regretted it the instant it came out, but he made to turn away anyway.

Inej sighed. "What is your problem?" she asked, her tone forcing him to stop. It wasn't accusatory, it was curious, as though she hadn't even the heart to be angry. "You shook my mother's hand. You even smiled, Kaz, but was it really so difficult to keep up the charade for the few other minutes?"

"My problem?" Kaz whirled on her, but paused. There was a small smile on her face, a sad smile, full of understanding.

"I know, Kaz." Inej held out her hand.

Kaz hesitated, but took hold of it.

"You, even though you lost your own family, helped me find mine again. I thought I would never see them again. I spoke about you to my parents because I wanted them to know that you are a good man, Kaz. You have done everything, too much, for me."

Kaz stood, stock-still, unable to believe his ears.

"Kaz, you have done so much for me. Can I - could I ask one more favour?" Inej went on breathlessly, almost whispering. Kaz could see a tear clinging to her eyelash, sparkling in the sunlight. "Can I -"

"Wait," Kaz said roughly. He pulled her hand away, and Inej shrank back, but all he did was remove his gloves for the second time that day - gently and deliberately this time. He held out a hand, concentrating

Inej stood on her toes, and kissed his cheek briefly. It was a butterfly's kiss, barely brushing his skin, but Kaz could feel it there, lingering. He closed his eyes, savouring the warmth that spread theough his body, the absence of clammy skin and icy water a blessing Kaz thought he'd never deserve again. He didn't deserve Inej, bit he'd be damned if he couldn't paint over his black heart for her.

"Thank you for everything, Kaz," Inej whispered, and squeezed his hand softly.

Kaz didn't dare open his eyes until he was sure she'd slipped away.

☆☆☆

[flamingredanon]

Violinist Henry AU! But it is set in the past. When Henry was smaller, before his big brother Terrance would become a Toppat, he would watch his brothers shows as the “Raven Lord” unknowingly sitting beside a brunette kid that would one day become his pair for “The Crow King and The Swan Prince”

Reginald loved listening and watching the Raven Lord play the violin, not even noticing the snow white hair boy next to him that was equally fond of listening and watching his brother play.

Though Henry found some old tapes of his brother playing and decided that he and Reginald could watch them one night.

Reginald pointed out where he was sitting that night in the video when Henry had a holy shit moment, pointing out that he was sitting right beside Reginald that night.

The two had a good laugh, wondering how many times they could of sat close to each other and yet never knowing about the other.

The Crow King and The Swan Prince decided eventually perform in that very theatre, though it was run down and old now. But as they played, they felt like the spirit of Terrence was playing alongside them, that The Raven Lord was proud of what these men had accomplished and glad his love of music lived on.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

OBEY ME! LESSON 55 DETAILED SUMMARY AND DISCUSSION/THEORIES

*I wrote this days after the lesson was first posted and never bothered to go back and edit it so meaning there will be me theorizing about the next lesson as well

*I write a small para for each chapter and I write it immediately after finishing that chapter so there’ll be theorizing about the next chapter too

*I swear more than usual here

*Some of the dialogue is heavily plagiarized and a few is lifted directly from the story, the game is to figure which is which.

*Summaries and Discussions/theories for all the other lessons can be found on this blog under #obey me spoilers or #my theories or #my headcanons

OKAY! So first off the background for this is absolutely gorgeous and shows a real demon. You know the kind you’d imagine an actual demon to look like and everything’s dark (black, grey, brown) there’s a castle on a mountain like area with a narrow suspended pathway leading to it, there are crows flying around and a person in a robe pointing what looks like a lit wand at a snarling attacking demon, there are skulls and what looks like weapons on the ground and my favourite part: a person in a long robe, kneeling on the ground, covering the top of their face with their hands and wailing to the sky. It’s all tailor made to my taste and I love it! There’s one locked lesson.

It’s breakfast time and Asmo & Beel are heading to an all you can eat global sweet sampler, MC questions it and Asmo says you can get desserts from all over the world there and Asmo’s hoping to live stream it. Asmo invites MC but Mammon interjects asking them to come see “cute horsies” with him. “’Horsies.’ He’s so pretentious. Shut up, it’s the fucking horse race. ‘Horsies.’” Says Levi. Levi invites MC to a real life TSL themed escape room (that sounds really fun tbh), Satan invites them to come watch the sci-fi movie they were talking about, in their home theatre. (he’s actually watched it 3 times already but he read online theories about it and now he wants to see if he can catch the basis for those theories in the movie). They all start arguing about it (except Beel who’s just eating) when MC gets a text from Diavolo congratulating them on their 5th star and wishing them luck for the other 2 and inviting them to an amusement park date. Everyone – MC included – is kind of baffled by the one on one date with Diavolo. They ask any of the others if they want to tag along but they all refuse but Beel asks if MC can take Belphie along since he hasn’t really left the house in a while and Beel’s worried. MC texts asking if they can bring Belphie along too and Diavolo says the more the merrier and I just know this is gonna end in disaster like did Belphie ever even resolve all the problems he had with Diavolo back in S1?

Beel drags Asmo along to wake Belphie up because a.) he doesn’t want Asmo to leave to the sweets thing without him b.) they need all the help they can get to wake him up. MC suggests using force and Asmo happily volunteers to grab Belphie, turn him over and drop him on the ground, Beel says they can’t do this to poor Belphie cause Beel’s a sweetheart, and says the most force he’ll allow them to use is by tickling Belphie, which Asmo then does. It doesn’t work so Asmo says if they’re gonna use force they should do something like this right before he screams “ASMO DIIIIIIVE!!!” and jumps on top of Belphie as Beel protests and I love that despite what you’d assume from his aesthetic and despite what Asmo would like you to believe he’s a lot more rough and tumble and violent (I just really love the sweet with hidden edges trope as much as I love the jerk with a gooey centre trope). Belphie says ow and Asmo brightly and sweetly cheers that he woke up as if just seconds ago he hadn’t used a wrestling move on his sleeping baby brother. Beel says that though Belphie’s body is awake his mind isn’t (relatable), Beel fixes Belphie’s bedhead and Asmo complains that Belphie’s a stereotypical spoilt brat youngest child and says that Diavolo obviously would’ve wanted a one on one day with MC. Beel says he knows and it’s another reason he wanted Belphie to go. Asmo agrees saying that after everything if MC chooses their boss over any one of the seven guys MC actually lives with it’d feel wrong. Asmo tells Belphie to keep an eye on them and not let it turn into a “whirlwind romance”, Belphie just asks for his pillow and Asmo’s upset cause he doesn’t feel confident about the plan now. Poor Diavolo being constantly cockblocked

On the way Belphie complains about being forced to do this when his schedule is just as busy but MC says all he does is sleep and he says because naps are important to him and he takes them seriously. He wishes he could go back home and asks why of all the demons he had to be stuck with Diavolo (so guess those issues are still around good to know). MC asks if he still dislikes Diavolo cause of his fondness for humans and Belphie says he’s fully gotten over that whole human genocide phase which is great to have confirmed. They ask why he dislikes Diavolo – lots of reasons. He always thinks he’s right and expects to get his way about anything and everything and never listens to anyone’s opinions. He hadn’t bothered to listen to Belphie back when the exchange program had been proposed and Belphie was against it (and I mean to be fair back then Belphie was 100% okay with killing the entire human race for no reason other than the fact that he blamed them for Lilith’s death when really they had nothing to do with it and it was definitely the angels’ fault. I mean I don’t think I would have listened to him either and he really does have the spoilt youngest kid personality. I think out of all the brother’s Belphie’s the one who has the fondest memories of the Celestial Realm – probably helped by the fact that Lilith was still alive then – which is why he never blamed them for what happened and instead directed all his anger at the humans) Lucifer hadn’t let Belphie plead his case (what case Belphie!? That all humans should die!?) and that Diavolo’s surrounded by demons like Barbatos and Lucifer who shield him from criticism (and yeah I agree that this is true and that it’s a bad thing but Lucifer wasn’t shielding Diavolo from criticism when he refused to let Belphie plead his case, he was protecting Belphie cause if Diavolo found out Belphie wanted to kill humans he would have thrown him in jail like he did back at the end of S1 and MC you dumb fuck can you pls tell all this to Belphie) and that Diavolo doesn’t understand that he’s been saved from criticism and Belphie hates that about him and he shudders at the thought of spending the day with Diavolo. On the way they run into Simeon and tell him where they’re going, he says Luke’s been wanting to go there since he saw a ad for it and MC says they could take Luke along with them but he says Luke’s at a cooking class today but that he’d probably love to hear about it when he gets back. Simeon then takes off saying he has a meeting. Belphie goes to call after Simeon to tell him something and catches a glimpse of the person Simeon was supposed to meet. He’s surprised and says “Is that…” and when MC asks what’s wrong he said he must have just imagined it and that the person Simeon was meeting just looked really familiar and HOLY SHITTTTTTT GUYSSS rfhiefjoSJKWDLDADJSJ was I right are we really gonna get to see angels???? That’s the only explanation, right? It would have had to be Michael or even Raphael and there’s only a few lessons left and this and the next lesson are probably gonna focus on Diavolo and Belphie’s relationship and following the patter MC should get their 6th star next lesson, then the two lessons after that will be their final exam for the 7th star and then the last two lessons will focus on saying goodbye as the brothers go back to the Devildom and all that’s gonna have a lot going on but if they’re teasing the angels being here now could they manage to slip them in or will that be too much? I mean they’ll be introducing a whole new (or two whole new) character(s) and ahhh I’m rambling but pls I need the tension and angst between them and the brothers ok I’m done.

When they get there Belphie complains about how crowded it is and MC tries to look for Diavolo to which Belphie points to a group of fangirls surrounding Diavolo. Diavolo answers them sweetly and one of them says he’s even better looking irl and another shyly asks if he wants to walk around with them. Belphie cuts that short by barging in and asking Diavolo what’s going on, Diavolo happily greets Diavolo and one of the girls realises that Belphie called Diavolo ‘lord’. Diavolo apologises to them and said he’s already made plans with friends (and ugh he’s so sweet I love him just wanna give him a big hug I bet he gives great hugs), the girls are very understanding and sweet about it and they leave. Belphie’s a lil shit and says “Aww, too bad, Lord Diavolo. I’d hate to interrupt just as they were hitting on you…” and Diavolo laughs it off saying it wasn’t like that (and can Diavolo not understand sarcasm or does he just ignore it? Both seem highly likely) Belphie disagrees and says they were clearly hitting on him and Diavolo changes the subject and says he can’t believe Belphie actually came, MC explains why and Diavolo says it’s understandable that Beel was worried after Belphie hadn’t left the house in a week (Me, who hasn’t left the house in almost a year: :’) ) Belphie says he knows Diavolo wanted a date with MC but too bad cause now Belphie’s gonna third wheel them. Diavolo tells Belphie not to be ridiculous and that he’s happy that Belphie came (and the thing is other than a small twinge of disappointment this is probably the truth). Belphie says that it probably won’t be a good idea to go around calling him “Lord” Diavolo given the way the girls reacted, Diavolo says he can just call him by his name since he wouldn’t mind but Belphie says he himself would mind and anyway if Lucifer or Barbatos found out Belphie wasn’t using his proper title they’d kill him. So Belphie suggests a nickname which Diavolo’s really happy about and MC suggests DD (they can also suggest John or Cap’n), Diavolo adores it and asks them to call him it all the time hereafter (I want to give him a hug so badly). Diavolo then happily and with lots of exclamation points goes on to say that it’s time to let their hair down and that Barbatos had made minute to minute schedule for them to follow so that they could enjoy the park to the fullest and Belphie says he wants to go home

Diavolo keeps unsuccessfully trying to get Belphie to wear a themed headband and take a group photo, saying he also wants to wear the headband on a boat ride and the ferris wheel. Diavolo gives MC sad puppy dog eyes (which I’m sure he uses successfully on Lucifer regularly, but that don’t affect Barbatos at all) and MC can’t refuse, asking Belphie if there’s anything that’ll get him to change his mind. He says no but he’s not stopping the others from doing it, Diavolo says since they’re here as a group they all should do it, Belphie snaps saying he doesn’t like how Diavolo’s using MC as a tool to bend Belphie to his will and he says he’s going home. Diavolo tries to stop him but he marches off and Diavolo drags MC off to chase after Belphie. Diavolo grabs Belphie by the arm outside the park and begs for a chance to apologize, Belphie denies it and tries to free his arm. Diavolo refuses to let him go saying he should have listened to and considered Belphie’s opinions now as well as in the past, Belphie’s shocked and MC asks Belphie to just hear Diavolo out. He agrees but tells them not to have any expectations of what this’ll accomplish.

Belphie says he doesn’t want to wear the headband or take pics and that he’s only gonna ride what he wants to, Diavolo agrees with all that. He asks if Belphie will stay with them and Belphie agrees and Diavolo is just so brightly stupidly happy and I can completely understand how he was able to make Lucifer question his entire world view. Diavolo’s so happy he starts waving Belphie’s arm around unconsciously and then asks Belphie what rides he wants to go on as they make their way back inside, Belphie doesn’t answer instead he’s blushing and annoyed and asks Diavolo to let go of his hand. Belphie wants to ride ‘The Twisting Freefall of Death II’, MC & Diavolo would like to not freefall to their death thank you very much. Belphie quotes the ride as being, “the single most terrifying experience in the world where you’ll scream for mercy and receive none” Diavolo says, “Did you say scream for mercy…” Belphie happily agrees. Diavolo turns to his last hope, MC, and asks how they feel about this. I like to imagine that even MC has a line where their lacking self-preservation will kick in. Belphie just smiles saying it won’t actually kill them (this would have been more reassuring coming from someone who didn’t once murder MC but whatever.) They can also ask Diavolo how feels about it. After the ride Belphie’s cackling loudly and gushing about how great it was. He’s especially happy about the look on Diavolo’s face during the ride, saying he’s never seen it before (probably the look of a demon praying to God for mercy). MC can say that Belphie seemed to be having a lot of fun, cheer how the ride was the best or say they thought they were going to die. For the 3rd option Belphie very cheerfully says MC’s alive and ok. Belphie asks Diavolo how it was only to realise Diavolo’s missing. He fell off the ride at its highest peak. He’s dead.

They’ve tried texting Diavolo but he doesn’t read them. Belphie wonders what kind of person actually gets lost in an amusement park unless they’re 5. Then he says “…is that what it is? Is he actually 5 yrs old?” He remembers that mammon got lost in a park once too and says the only thing the two of them have in common is that they’re both basically children, They then run into my favourite character in the entire game – the butcher (is2g this man needs to become a recurring side character) who is here with his wife and daughter. He asks them if the rest of the harem is here too and Belphie lets him know that unfortunately they’re here with a new inductee who got lost. The butcher offers to help and asks for a description. MC says he’s the owner of the corvo hotel chain and the butcher wonders who the fuck are these people in the first place to know someone like that and then because the butcher’s the sweetest person alive he too starts worrying about diavolo, scared that he might have gotten kidnapped. Belphie says “there’s no one in the human world oh shit I mean THE WORLD. THE NORMAL WORLD ALL US HUMANS - BECAUSE WE ALL ARE HUMANS - LIVE IN” the butcher now probably used to how weird this cult is (because they definitely are a satanic cult with their extremely obvious demon names, how weird and unused to normal life they are, 7 of them being obviously infatuated by the eighth one but the butcher’s not gonna bring this up cause with the amount of meat they buy from him he could keep his family afloat for years AND pay for his daughters college tuition) ignores this and says he hasn’t seen Diavolo but advices them to check the information desk and ask them to page Diavolo over the loudspeakers. They thank him and Belphie promises to stop by with Beel later, the butcher says he’ll see him then and tells them to take care (I love this man). Barbatos text MC asking how they’re doing and which itinerary of his they’re following cause yes apparently he made more than one and telling them he trusts them to take care of diavolo (and I can’t believe it took me this long to realise Barbatos is a helicopter parent). MC leaves him on read. Lucifer then texts them saying Satan told him where they’d gone and telling them that since the two of them are with Diavolo he assumes he’s okay but just to clarify make sure nothing happens to Diavolo. MC leaves him on read. Belphie says that Barbatos and Lucifer are way too overprotective. Barbatos and MC then realise how fucked they are if either of them find out that they’ve lost diavolo and so decide to skip the whole loudspeaker thing.

They can decide if they want to check by the lake, the ferris wheel or the last ride they went in. He’s not at the lake and they choose to take a boat across the lake to get to the ferris wheel cause it’s faster than going around it. Belphie actually enjoys the boat ride and asks if the two of them can just enjoy themselves together for a bit instead of looking for Diavolo, MC says “I’m worried about Diavolo also can you not remember how fucked we are if we don’t find him”. Belphie gets jealous that MC seems to care more about Diavolo than him (they’re just been practical! If the roles were reversed they’d have shut Diavolo down to look for you!) and says that even they have a real soft spot for Diavolo (He’s like a giant golden retriever!!).  There’s an announcement over the loudspeaker for MC and ‘Snoozy’ saying that DD’s waiting for them at the info desk. Belphie’s not happy about ‘snoozy’ (understandable)

[scapegrace74-blog]

Dopamine

A/N  We’re going back in Metric Universe time to when Claire and Jamie were only flatmates with the unrequited hots for one another!  Set around the same time as Halo, so early October 2017.

With special thanks to @gotham-ruaidh for the prompt!

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

Friday, October 13, 2017

Spittalfields, London, England

“Argh!”

Jamie heard Claire’s frustrated cry through his wireless headphones, even over the thrum of MotoGP.  He faced away from where she sat at her desk, ostensibly studying for a biochemistry mid-term, but it was hard to miss the tickertape explosion that skittered across the hardwood beneath his feet.

When he turned, Claire was leaning far back, staring up at the ceiling with hands tangling through her unbound curls.  A stack of cue cards, each containing a neatly drawn organic compound on one side and its name on the reverse, now lay strewn across the floor in an arc of momentary outrage.

“Somethin’ the matter, Claire?” he ventured tentatively after pausing his game.  He generally tried to ignore his flatmate while she was studying, leaving her to mutter arcane medical terminology under her breath and brew endless cups of tea in peace.  This latest event seemed outside the norm, however.

“Nothing an extra twelve hours in the day wouldn’t fix,” she replied tartly, looking his way.  The usual amber warmth of her gaze was dim and lined with strain.  “I apologize for disturbing you with my outburst,” she added.

He bent down and started to collect the dozen or so cards that had slid as far as his perch on the sofa.

“Dinna fash.  I was only killin’ time until my shift.  I gather yer studies arenna goin’ well, then?”

“I can’t seem to wrestle my brain into focusing.  Every nucleic acid looks exactly the same, and don’t even get me started with amino acid chains, with their bloody polypeptides and...   Jesus, I’m sorry, Jamie.  You aren’t interested in hearing about my biochem headaches.”

He approached the window, collecting cue cards from the floor as he walked.

“Nah, tis interesting.  I barely recall Sixth Year Chemistry, save fer the fact that my lab partner was a budding arsonist.  I canna imagine all the compounds and such ye’re expected tae ken.  The exam’s Monday, aye?  Why don’t ye take a wee break, tae recharge yer mind?”

Even as he said it, he knew it was a lost cause.  Claire’s will was indominable, and conceding defeat, if only by way of a temporary reprieve, was out of the question.  It was the warrior’s spirit he’d recognized in her from the start, far too cherished to wish away.

“What’s this do, then?” he asked, holding up a card where she could see the molecular structure.

“That’s dopamine.”

“Aye, I ken that fine.  It says it right here on yer wee note.  I asked what it does,” he goaded.

Claire huffed and rolled her eyes, but he knew she couldn’t resist the urge to put him in his place.

“It’s a neuro-transmitter associated with certain executive functions like motor control, reward motivation, lactation and sexual arousal.  Often referred to as the love chemical,” she recited drily, eyebrow lifted in provocation.

“Ah,” he replied, shuffling the cards in his hands to avoid further eye contact.  “And this one?” he asked, leaning back against the surface of the desk.

They carried on in this way for another fifteen minutes until it was time for him to leave for the fire station.  As he donned his boots and jacket he could hear Claire humming along to a phantom tune while she drew on the back of a fresh cue card, a spare pen stuck into the crow’s nest of her newly upswept hair.

“Have a good night, Jamie!” she called out as he opened the door.

“And you,” he replied, waiting until he was safely in the hallway to quietly add, “mo nighean donn.”

***

Claire woke late the next morning, grateful for twenty-four hours without work or classes to really knuckle down and finish studying.  After her brief tantrum the day before, she managed to complete a full preliminary review before finally succumbing to sleep.  Even after Jamie left for work, she found herself reciting the characteristics of each compound aloud, finding the detail made the names and corresponding structures easier to remember.

You see, Jamie, carbon, hydrogen and oxygen form the core bonds of every carbohydrate, from simple sucrose all the way up to complex polysaccharides...

The door to her flatmate’s bedroom was shut tight, and she knew from experience that he’d sleep until noon after working a graveyard shift.  Making herself some toast and fruit, she set the coffee on to brew, knowing Jamie would want it later.

Rather than sit at their tiny table, Claire stood beside the wall-to-wall windows while she ate, and watched the improvisational theatre of the street life below.  She enjoyed these quiet mornings, watching the city come to life, in solitude but not solitary.

Once she was fully awake and fortified, she settled into her chair and prepared to do battle with her biochemistry notes.  Next to her stack of textbooks, a small piece of paper with Jamie’s distinctive cursive caught her eye.

Spotify Playlist, Dopamine by JAMMF

Intrigued, she opened the app on her phone and typed in the search bar.  As she read down the list of songs, she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry, so she ended up splitting the difference with a watery giggle.  The ridiculous, precious man had made her a mixtape, and its theme wasn’t subtle.  She plugged in her headphones and began to study.

Several hours later, the door to Jamie’s room cracked open and he emerged blinking like a bemused russet owl.  He shuffled towards the kitchen, where she knew he’d drink a mug of black coffee in long, bracing draughts before truly waking up for the day.  Her eyes sheered away from watching his progress as  he lifted the torn hem of his favourite Mogwai concert t-shirt and absently scratched the line of hair that bisected his taut belly.

By the time he returned, she was engrossed in a chapter about protein sequencing.  A fresh cup of tea was deposited near her left elbow.

“Thank you,” she smiled up at him.

“Ye’re welcome.  How is yer studying comin’ along?”

“Really well, actually.  This playlist is amazing!  It must have taken you forever to pull together.  Was it a slow night, then?”

“Aye, more or less,” he demurred.  

“Well, it worked a charm.  I may actually survive this mid-term.  It was incredibly thoughtful of you, Jamie.”  Bashful under praise, he raised his free hand to rub through his sleep-mussed curls, doing nothing to diminish their resemblance to a rooster’s comb.

“Weel, I’ll let ye get tae it, then,” he muttered, turning back towards his bedroom.

“Wait!” Claire startled.  “I... uhhh...  I could use a little break, actually.  Did you want to watch the Australia Fiji match for a bit?”

“Aye.  Aye, that would be excellent.”

***

Jamie’s Playlist for Claire

And for those without Spotify, here are the songs:

The Scientist - Coldplay

Chemistry - U.N.K.L.E.

Neutron Dance - The Pointer Sisters

The Light Behind Your Eyes - My Chemical Romance

Weird Science - OINGO BOINGO

Let Forever Be - The Chemical Brothers

She Blinded Me With Science - Thomas Dolby

Better Living Through Chemistry - Queens of the Stone Age

D.N.A. - The Kills

Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

Natural Science - Rush

Sounds of Science - Beastie Boys

Novocaine - Beck

Synthetica - Metric

[janeofcakes]

Soulmate: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 2

Hello, my friends! I come to you today knowing there is but one burning question in your minds today: What will Gracie and Olive get up to next? Okay, maybe two: When the hell will John and Sherlock meet, Jane? Tell me. Tell me now! Haha. Patience, my lovelies. You know I can't write a story without stringing you along for a while first. I am very firmly on the naughty list and like our dear friend, Martin Freeman I cannot abide being on anyone's nice list. Mwahaha.

I also wanted to say that the next few chapters are not as long as the first. There was so much to get through in that one. I hope you aren't disappointed. The good news is my typing and editing are going well so I should be able to keep my weekend schedule. Hooray!Happy reading. Jane

----

Gracie casts a side look at Olive from where she sits on the jungle gym. It is afternoon break and the two girls just climbed frantically up the poles and bars to sit at the top for a rest after running themselves ragged all over the playground pretending to be Nancy Drew and George Fayne solving a mystery. Every day since Monday has gone more or less the same way. They play together for morning break, talk at lunch and play again in the afternoon. They write notes on one another’s notebooks during lessons, but manage not to disrupt class or miss instruction. It has been a truly amazing first week of school, better than Gracie could have ever imagined.

Gracie looks at Olive again and feels her throat swell. It’s like she has known Olive forever. They seem to always understand each other and be in perfect sync. Gracie has talked about nothing else at home and has even dreamed about playing with Olive each night. Olive has told her all kinds of things about London and its history. Tower Bridge, London Bridge, the National Theatre, but what Gracie is most interested in seeing is the Tower of London. She asked her father just last night if they could go sometime to see the old castle and the crown jewels. She can’t wait to see and do everything, and it would be even better if Olive could come along for some of it. London is much more exciting than Bath ever was, hands down!

“Gracie,” Olive begins in a lazy tone, “how do you feel about bees?”

Turning to face her friend fully, Gracie furrows her brow and frowns. Olive does not react to the movement and continues looking at something in the distance, or perhaps at nothing at all. Gracie says nothing at first, wondering if Olive had been talking before and all Gracie heard was the bee question. The taller girl finally turns her head and fixes the blonde with an inquisitive gaze. Gracie frowns as she considers the question. She is not really partial to any insect, nor is she upset by them. 

“They’re all right, I guess,” Gracie shrugs. “They make honey, so there’s that.”

“Mm…” Olives hums in approval. “True.”

Gracie raises her brows, every inch of her face asking ‘What are you on about?’. Olive blinks and seems to realize she was lost in her own mind, leaving Gracie with absolutely no context for the question.

“That’s what my dad wants to do when he retires,” Olive explains. “Beekeeping. In Sussex, probably.”

Oh no. This can’t be happening. Gracie just met Olive and had the best week of her life and now she’s going to lose her to bees?!

“You’d leave London then?” Gracie chokes on the words, not even trying to hide her distress.

“Yeah,” Olive answers absently, playing with the end of her long braid. “He says they’re fascinating.”

Gracie’s whole body tenses and her stomach roils. She feels sick and a bit dizzy when she glances away from Olive to a girl laughing wildly on the swings. It’s like a bad dream spiraling out of control to the soundtrack of that girl’s mad laughter. Gracie bites her lip hard to ground herself and looks back at Olive.

“Is he close to retiring?” Gracie forces out, beads of sweat beginning to collect at her temples.

“What? No,” Olive huffs a laugh and looks at Gracie again. “He’s definitely old, but not ancient. He has too much fun working anyway. Hey, are you okay?”

“Fun?” Gracie asks incredulously, ignoring her friend’s inquiry. “At a crime scene?”

“Oh, yeah, he loves it,” Olive laughs, seeing Gracie begin to relax. “He loves a good mystery. Locked room murders are his favorite.”

“Wow,” Gracie mutters, only half understanding what that means.

“He used to have a partner, you know,” Olive adds with a grin. “He loved it even more then.”

“So he had his own Clue Crew?” excited energy vibrates through Gracie’s body as she pictures a grown up and male version of Olive with a man and woman posed behind him like on Charlie’s Angels. Gracie’s dad loves old shows and movies, so she has seen her fair share. James Bond is his favorite. She makes a note to ask Olive if she has ever seen any of them.

“Not a crew,” the brunette corrects. “Just the one partner. They solved all kinds of cases together. They were best friends.”

“Like us?”

“Yep, exactly like us,” Olive says with a flash of teeth. Gracie grins too and is about to ask about Bond when something else pops to the forefront of her mind.

“Oh! It’s like my dad’s bedtime stories!” Gracie blurts eagerly. “Sam Williams and Dean Jensen. They’re best friends and solve crimes together. That’s how I got started on Nancy Drew in the first place. Dad’s read some of the old ones to me.”

“Really?” Olive cries. “Oh! Oh! Mystery of the 99 Steps?”

“That’s my favorite!” Gracie shrieks, her hands flying to her cheeks.

“Mine too!” Olive gasps.

“Girls,” the teacher on duty calls up to them from the ground below. They look down at her, all wide eyes and smiles. “Time to go back inside.”

They climb down as the teacher walks away to tell other kids. The two girls bound towards the school, slowing to a walk as they get closer. Gracie feels something brush against her hand and glances at it just in time to see Olive’s longer fingers wrap around it. She shifts her wide eyes to her friend’s, barely able to contain her joy.

“We should get our dads to read us the same old Nancy Drew book, a chapter each night,” Olive tells her conspiratorially. “Then we can compare notes the next day and see if we can solve it before Nancy.”

“That’s the best idea!” Gracie crows. “We can figure out which one during library time.”

“And then you check it out,” Olive says decisively. “Mrs. Hudson has all of them. I can borrow it from her.”

“Ok,” Gracie agrees, already knowing so much about Olive’s godmother that she doesn’t even question the woman would have the whole series. Honestly, Gracie wants to meet her almost as much as she wants to meet Olive’s detective father.

The two girls giggle for a moment at their new plan and then skip into the school building.

***

Saturday afternoon finds Gracie hand in hand with Candace McCleary, a nanny John handpicked while Gracie was still in Bath. They met the day after Gracie arrived last week and she instantly fell in love with Candace, much to John’s relief. Candace would not be a live-in nanny, but is employed like one. John needs her to get Gracie from school and stay with her until he gets home in the evenings. He also needs her to be available at a moment’s notice for when an emergency, like the birth of a baby, arises. John had warned his daughter after Angela Taylor’s check-up on Wednesday that he thought the baby would come early and probably at a most inconvenient time. Sure enough, he received the call just as he started lunch. Gracie was disappointed that her first trip to Hanover Gate Children’s Playground in Regent’s Park would be without her father, but was still over the moon when Candace was happy to take her. She had been looking forward to it almost all week.

“Oh my gosh!” Gracie exclaims as she and Candace approach the playground. There is equipment everywhere to climb and swing on and slide down. Gracie immediately decides the sandpit is first on her list. A tall tree stands in its center with wooden bridges and walkways built all around it. Rope ladders and nets offer admittance and there is even a hammock to sit on. “Candace, this is amazing! This is the best park ever!”

“Why don’t you jump right in?” the woman laughs. “I’ll just be right on this bench if you need me.”

Candace points to an empty green bench as she speaks and starts heading for it before someone else claims it. Gracie calls out her agreement and makes a b-line for the nearest rope ladder. She is up it in seconds and running across a bouncy bridge, laughing all the way. She runs the whole course, turns right back around and does it again. There are quite a few kids in this part of the park, but it’s still easy to work her way around them. After a few more laps on the equipment, a small group of kids asks Gracie to play tag. She recognizes them from school and accepts.

A good hour later, two of the kids have to go home and Gracie is exhausted. She begs off, having had her mind set on playing in the sand since she and Candace got there. Plopping down in a shady spot, she plunges her hands beneath the beige and brown grains. The sand is cool and dry and feels soft in between her fingers, not like the rough sand that is sometimes used in parks. It’s like the white sand from a beach. She has half a mind to pull her shoes off and let her feet sink into its depths. Gracie closes her eyes and wiggles her fingers, feeling the sand move around them like a favorite blanket. She opens her eyes as she curls her fingers around the tiny grains and watches them slip through when she lifts her hands. 

Gracie does this again and again until she grabs a stick and begins to drag it through the sand like a plow. At one point, she makes a short trench and plants sunflower seeds and raisins from the snack baggy in her pocket. She pats the sand with satisfaction after covering them and looks toward the bench where Candace sits. She waves and her nanny waves back. Gracie giggles and gets to her knees, but stops when a figure just sitting down on the hammock suddenly blocks her view of Candace.

“What the…” Gracie mutters, her mouth falling open in disbelief. She gets to her feet and runs straight for the rope hammock and its occupant, who hears her footfalls and looks up with blue-grey eyes.

“Gracie!” Olive cries in surprise as her friend trips in the sand and drops face-first next to the hammock. “Gracie?”

“I’m okay,” the blonde girl declares, pushing herself up and standing quickly. The two girls lock eyes and start laughing. “What are you doing here?”

“We come every weekend,” Olive replies, pulling Gracie onto the woven rope. “Our flat’s just that way.”

“Really?” Gracie gasps with a delighted squeak. She points in the opposite direction. “Mine’s that way.”

“No way!” Olive shouts with glee. “That’s amazing! I had no idea we lived so close.”

“I know right,” Gracie exclaims, beginning to rock the hammock a bit. Olive unfolds her legs to hang them down and help push. “What are the odds?”

“Well,” Olive considers, adopting her contemplative face. Gracie knows instantly that a deduction is coming. She giggles and her smile widens as she watches her best friend. “Since we go to the same school, it seems fairly likely that we would live close together because it’s usually based on geography. However, it’s a bit different with public school. Kids can come from all parts of London as long as they have the money to pay.”

“Oh my god,” Gracie can barely contain her excitement and she stamps a foot on the ground a few times. “We could play here every weekend! I’m sure I could get Dad to bring me.”

“Yes! Let’s set it up now,” Olive sits up straight, ready to jump off the netting. “Is your dad here?”

“No, he had to deliver a baby,” Gracie rolls her eyes. Olive makes a dismissive noise that sounds like she just opened an air-tight container and sinks back into the hammock “Exactly. I mean, babies are important and all, but now he has to wait another week to see all this.”

Gracie swings her arms out wide and tilts her head skyward before flopping unceremoniously onto her back. Olive lets herself tip backwards as well and they soon lie side by side, looking up at the clouds. Gracie points out one that looks like a panda and proceeds to tell her friend all sorts of facts about pandas.

“I even have a panda,” she finishes.

“You do?” Olive asks, her eyes widen with wonder. 

“Since I was three,” Gracie nods. “She’s my favorite stuffie. She’s called Pandy and I sleep with her every night.”

“I have a bee,” Olive says without hesitation. “I call him Wellington, sometimes Wellies for short.”

“Do you like bees as much as your dad does?” Gracie is curious because Wellington might have been a gift like Pandy was, but it certainly sparked her interest in pandas. 

“I don’t think anyone could like them as much as Dad,” Olive huffs a laugh, “but yeah, I definitely like them too. It’s amazing how they make honey and their whole society and all.”

“Wow. Would you tell me?” Gracie fixes her with a serious gaze and licks her lips. “I loooove honey.”

“Sure, and you can tell me more about pandas,” Olive grins and points to a medium-sized cloud. “That one looks like a catapult.”

Gracie cocks a brow and follows her finger to a cloud that, amazingly enough, does resemble a rudimentary catapult.

The afternoon passes as the two girls tell each other stories and make up new games, their favorite being pirates sailing their hammock boat across the sea to a mysterious island. They leave their spot at this point to explore sandy beaches, nearly being vanquished by a giant hippo and almost losing Olive beneath quicksand. Gracie keeps her head about her and is always within Candace’s line of sight, and it’s a good thing too because the two girls are interrupted as tea time nears.

“I knew I’d find you here,” a low rumble of a voice comes from behind Gracie where she sits facing Olive. They have just dug up a treasure of sunflowers and raisins, a very valuable find on the sea. Their eyes grow wide as a menacing laugh fills the air around them. Gracie swallows hard and turns slowly to see the towering silhouette of a man in a billowy black coat. She shields her eyes, but with the sun behind him, she cannot make out his features. He probably has an eye patch and everything.

“What are you doing on my island?” the man demands as he steps closer. Gracie gasps and pushes herself backwards toward Olive to get away from the dark figure only just coming into focus.

“Hi, girls. Is everything okay?” Candace McCleary asks from the right and Gracie glances at her gratefully. Her trusty companion must have bolted from her park bench as soon as the giant appeared. Now she stands alert as though ready to pounce and Gracie breathes a sigh of relief. She hadn’t even seen this man until it was too late. Gracie grits her teeth and silently berates herself as her father’s words about being observant come to mind.

“Uhhh…” Gracie finds her voice, but it comes out as a meek croak. Meanwhile, Olive leaps up next to her and runs for the figure with open arms. Gracie gapes, sure she is about to see her friend eaten before her very eyes.

“Daddy!” Olive cries, launching herself into the man’s arms. Gracie blinks and it is like a cloud has moved from where it had covered the sun. The giant, no longer in the shadows, transforms into a tall man wearing a nice suit with no tie and a long coat. Gracie finds herself marveling at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be hot in the slightest and momentarily wonders if he has ice in his pockets, but stops all speculation when she sees his face. Angles and cheeks like Olive, dark curls and the same grey eyes that seem to change from green to blue and back. The corners of Gracie’s mouth turn up and a sense of ease washes over her.

“Is it time to go already?” Olive is speaking at a mile a minute. “We only just started playing pirates. Can Gracie come home with us? We’re having Thai for dinner. I bet she’ll like it.”

The tall man chuckles at his daughter and the sound is like a really warm blanket, soft and comfy. He glances at Candace and settles his gaze on Gracie. She bristles for a moment at those all-seeing eyes. It’s true they are like Olive’s, but much wiser. Gracie has the feeling he is learning much more from just watching her than anyone else can. She’s not entirely sure how she feels about that, but supposes it’s why Olive is so perceptive and she loves her. Besides, this is her dad. Gracie feels like she knows him already after all the stories she has heard.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Gracie,” Sherlock says surreptitiously with a look in Olive’s direction. The girl smiles broadly and nods while Gracie smiles a little timidly. His chin dips in greeting. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“I know a lot about you too,” Gracie replies as she rises, finding her tenacity again.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Sherlock answers. He turns his attention to Candace, who still looks a touch uneasy. “And this is your friend?”

“Yeah,” Gracie confirms enthusiastically. “This is Candace.”

She jumps up and grabs Olive’s hand, pulling her toward the young woman.

“And this is Olive,” she exclaims.

“Oh,” the last traces of suspicion vanish from Candace’s eyes and she gestures at the girls. “Of course. You’re Olive. Gracie has been telling me about you all week.” “And this is my dad,” Olive introduces. “Sher…”

“William,” Sherlock interrupts, offering his hand. Candace steps forward and takes it in a firm shake. “Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” Candace replies, not noticing the quizzical look on Olive’s face, but Gracie sees. She also sees Sherlock glance at his daughter and communicate something that clears the confusion from Olive’s mind in an instant. Gracie tilts her head in thought, considering this new information. She and John can do that sometimes too. It makes her that much more certain that Olive is meant to be her best friend.

“It’s quite a coincidence them meeting in the park like this,” Candace is saying when Gracie emerges from her thoughts. “Do you live around here?”

“Yes, just on Baker Street,” Sherlock answers politely, but with a tinge of the tone Olive has when she mutters that something is obvious. Gracie lets out a quick giggle.

“Oh, right,” Candace nods with a friendly smile. “That’s not far at all. Maybe we’ll see you here again.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Sherlock looks down at the two girls, both of which are very excited. Olive is almost dancing in place and Gracie would swear she needed the toilet if she didn’t know better. “We’re here every Saturday just after lunch.”

“Perfect,” Candace says. “That’s about when we arrived. I’ll let her father know too. He’ll usually be the one who brings her.”

“He had a baby to deliver,” Gracie supplies. “He’s a doctor.”

“So Olive tells me,” Sherlock tells her with a certain mirth in his tone. “I would very much like to meet him, especially now that I’ve met you.”

“He’s wanted to all week,” Olive exclaims, giving Gracie’s hand a squeeze. “Ever since the first day.”

“I just can’t believe we ran into each other like this,” Candace declares, still a little dumbfounded.

Gracie doesn’t hear Sherlock’s response because Olive leans in close to whisper in her ear how great it will be when their fathers meet. The blonde nods her head vigorously and they laugh together quietly.

“Oh my, it’s nearly tea time,” Candace says to her watch. “I have to get her home. Are you ready, Gracie?”

“I guess so,” the girl pouts. She throws her arms around Olive in a huge hug. “I can’t wait to see you on Monday.”

Gracie gasps and looks at Olive with wide eyes, her hands still clamped around her arms.

“I’m going to write you a special note tomorrow and make a comic with my favorite markers,” she announces with glee. “They smell like strawberries and grapes and stuff.”

“Oh, wow!” Olive hoots. “I’ll make one of my maps for you.”

“It could be of this park!” Gracie shouts as Candace’s mobile sounds. She pulls it from her pocket and glances at its screen, pressing the surface to turn off the alarm.

“We really have to be going,” Candace says apologetically. “It was so nice to meet you both.”

“And you as well,” Sherlock dips his chin in farewell as Candace takes Gracie’s hand and leads her away.

“Bye, Gracie!” Olive calls, waving madly.

“Bye!” the blonde shouts back.

Olive waves for a good thirty seconds and then turns to face her father with her arms crossed over her chest. She raises a brow expectantly and Sherlock knows precisely why, but says nothing.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he begins walking toward home, knowing she will follow. “I believe Mrs. Hudson is making fresh biscuits.”

“What was that about, Dad?” Olive asks in disbelief, already matching his steps. “Why William?”

“You know I use aliases at times,” Sherlock replies without looking at her.

“Yeah, for cases, but these aren’t criminals,” Olive insists. “These are my friends.”

“I know, love,” he turns his head to see her earnest expression looking up at him. “I just don’t want to prejudice Gracie’s father.”

“What’s prejudice?” Olive furrows her brow as she repeats the word.

“Well, you know my profession can be dangerous,” Sherlock begins.

“Yeah…” Olive says slowly, eyeing him curiously.

“A lot of people know that because they see my name in the media,” he explains. “I don’t want Gracie’s father to hear my name and assume Gracie will be in danger. I’m concerned he will get the wrong impression and feel uncomfortable about you being friends.”

“Oh,” Olive says flatly as if she hadn’t considered that. They walk in silence for a moment until she speaks up again. He knew she would. She is too smart and inquisitive not to have follow-up questions. “So what are you going to do when we’ve been friends for months and it’s time to tell them your real name? Say ‘By the way, my name is really Sherlock Holmes.’?”

Sherlock gives her a withering look and says nothing. Her jaw drops and she shoves him lightly.

“Dad! You can’t NOT tell them,” Olive insists. She bends at the knees slightly to emphasize the word not. “It’s dishonest. Dad, it’s lying.”

“Sometimes we lie for the greater good,” Sherlock tells her curtly.

“Now you sound like Mycroft,” Olive sneers and that stops Sherlock dead in his tracks. He turns to face her, dropping into a squat and meeting her eyes.

“I would do anything for you, Olive,” he says sincerely, resting his hands on her shoulders. She curls the corner of her mouth and cocks a brow.

“Dad,” Olive begins matter-of-factly, “I know that and I would do anything for you too, but you told me I couldn’t lie.”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Sherlock sighs and then continues resolutely. “You’re right. I’ll introduce myself properly when we meet Gracie’s father. Okay?”

“Okay,” Olive grins and they walk again, hand in hand.

“Olive?” Sherlock says, glancing her way. She looks up at him in answer. “Don’t compare me to Mycroft again.”

Olive lets out a quiet chortle and tightens her grip on his fingers. 

“Desperate measures,” she replies more than a little pleased with herself. Sherlock puffs a quick breath through his nose and smirks as they walk on. Like father, like daughter.

---

What the hell, Jane?? I know what you said at the beginning, but this is unfair. Gracie and Candace get to meet Sherlock, but not John?! I want the boys to meet again! NOW! So sorry, my friends, but you'll have to wait a bit longer. Worry not, it will happen. Eventually. (insert evil smile, cruel chuckle and holding of fingertips together like Mr. Burns) Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[fictionadventurer]

The Dust That Falls From Passing Stars: Part 1/3

Snow clouds covered the midnight sky, but it seemed the stars were all down here tonight. Stars poured light from street lamps onto snow-covered cobblestones.The glowing heavenly stones glimmered from the coats and necklaces of the wealthy theatre patrons who bundled into plush carriages.  A star even glowed at Lorenz’s throat—a bright green star in a cloak pin that would grant him entry to the House Diriks ball. Once, such a pin would have been an impossible dream, but in his year of fame, wearing it had become almost routine.

In a crowd as grand as this, there was no chance of finding a cab in the after-show rush. Better to walk the eight blocks than stand like a beggar in the snow.

A voice from the street called, “Fortuin!”

Snow crunched beneath Lorenz’s boots as he stopped in white glow of a star lamp. He lifted his top hat and saw a hatless man in a blue silk suit leaning out of a carriage caught in the crush of traffic.

Lorenz acknowledged him with a wide-armed wave. “Evening, Coeman.”

The star jeweler’s son’s eyes had an alcohol glaze. “Look at you!” he crowed. “All dressed up for a party!”

Lorenz and Coeman were both shopkeeper’s sons, but that was like saying a hovel and a palace were both houses. Lorenz came from a long line of grocers, while wealth fell from the heavens onto Coeman’s family lands. Coeman was ever amused by those who worked for their living.

Coeman cried, “Did the lady unchain you from the piano?”

Lorenz gave a thin smile. “Even genius needs refreshment.”

Coeman laughed. “Only you’d call a walk in a snowstorm refreshing.”

The light dusting of flakes could scarcely be called a shower, much less a storm, though it probably seemed like one compared to the plush comfort of a starfall family’s carriage.

Lorenz shrugged, then smiled, pretending indifference. “I’ll get there faster than you.”

He strode away, leaving Coeman and his carriage stuck in the crush of traffic.

From the street, voices shouted, horses wickered, wheels clattered upon cobblestones, and Lorenz wove among the hoop skirts and overcoats of his fellow sidewalk pedestrians. As Lorenz turned a corner, his cloak billowed, and a hand caught upon the hem and held him fast.

He stopped, then looked down into the dirt-covered face of a ragged young girl, a small, shapeless form somewhere between eight and eighteen, who sat in the gutter holding a small jar of glittering dirt.

She lifted it toward Lorenz’s hand. “Stardust, sir? Two pennies a pinch.”

Even if he had a cigarette to light or needed his hands warmed, the girl’s stardust wouldn’t have done anything—it was ten times more dirt than dust. Incompetent even for a dustgirl.

He yanked his cloak out of her hand, but pity soon overcame his annoyance, and he dropped a silver krenin in the girl’s lap.

Her eyes shone as if he’d tossed her the star at his throat. “God bless you, sir.”

Lorenz tipped his hat and strode away. A bit of blessing and a lot of hard work had brought him to his current heights. He loved that success gave him the means to become one of those towering figures of generosity that so lifted up the downtrodden.

That lofty feeling carried him all the way to the entrance of House Diriks. The house’s towering gray façade dominated the street, a castle within the city limits, built to with all the embellishments of current architectural fashion. Crystalline windows gushed starlight into the cold and dark of the city, illuminating the arriving guests. The carriages were like wheeled palaces, and the people coming out of them wore silks and velvets and furs that glistened in the glow of the stars they wore on their necks and ears and hands.

In that colored crowd, there was one spot of brown. A ragged girl, older than the one Lorenz had seen near the theater, held a small clay jar that faintly glimmered with stardust. Yet she didn’t offer the ladies stardust to adorn their faces and necks, didn’t approach the gentlemen with an offer to light a cigar. Instead, she scurried away, her eyes on some distant destination.

Very strange. What dustgirl would waste such an opportunity? These people would carry her week’s salary as pocket change, and would likely throw a good portion of it at her feet just to keep her from coming too near. She hadn’t been chased away, and she hadn’t so much as looked at the crowd. Leaving could only mean she had better plans in mind, and Lorenz, his curiosity piqued, decided to discover them.

He trailed her along the house’s western wing, sticking to the shadows between the glowing windows. Wide balconies extended from all the rooms on the upper floor, all filled with laughing, chattering party-goers who glowed in the light of the stars they wore. Aestus stars glimmered like flames to warm their lightly gloved hands. A hundred colors of decorative stars adorned necklaces, tiaras, earrings, cuff links, and were even sewn directly into ball gowns and suit coats. A thousand captured constellations that made it look as though their wearers had fallen from the heavens.  

The winter winds blew scraps of stardust from their finery. It whirled in the wind, blew over the balcony, and scattered on the sidewalk below. This shower—not the spectacle above—drew the dustgirl’s eyes, and she knelt on the snow-slicked stone beneath it, scraping with cold-chapped hands on the ground as she raced to gather as much stardust as possible into her battered clay jar.

Lorenz found himself entranced by the tableau—the bright and laughing elite above and the earthy desperation below. There was cruelty here, but also beauty, something that pierced deep into the true nature of things in a way that he rarely considered. He could make a lyric out of this—not one of his light, theatrical pieces, but a real and honest piece of poetry. The complacent rich who wore the heavens at their hearts without a thought, and a girl who thought herself fortunate to gather up the crumbs. A downtrodden soul who scratched in the dirt, yet came up covered in the dust of the stars.

When the ground had been cleared of its heavenly bounty, the girl turned her attention to the still-falling flakes. Could she capture it all, Lorenz wondered. How would she separate the stardust from the falling snow?

As if in answer, she unwound her ragged cloak from her shoulders and spread it like a net between her arms. Half the flakes faded within moments of landing on the fabric. Lorenz’s heart flared in admiration as he caught the trick of it. Her body-warmed cloak melted the snowflakes, leaving her with a haul of pure stardust cleaner than anything that could be gathered by any other dustgirl in the city.

He felt a strange connection to this girl, who took such pride in doing such a humble job so well. He’d never looked at a dustgirl with anything other than pity, or perhaps relief that his family had never fallen so low. But here was courage, enterprise, intelligence, and Lorenz found it more inspiring than anything he’d seen from tonight’s crowd of starfall elites.

As the girl bobbed and weaved beneath the stardust shower, a deep-voiced shout shattered the peace.

“You! Girl!” A thick-limbed guard in the blue and silver of the House Diriks staff raced toward her, boots clattering. “Get gone, you filthy scavenger!”

The tableau shattered. The girl crushed her cloak to her chest and tried to run, face white with panic. As she pivoted, her foot slipped on a patch of ice and she landed on the ground in a tangle of limbs.  

“Get gone!” the guard shouted again. “We don’t need rat-thieves crawling ‘round!”

The girl scrambled into a sitting position, but still failed to find her feet. The guard removed a thick cudgel from beneath his cloak and drew his arm back for a blow.

Before Lorenz could think, he stepped out of the shadows, grabbed the girl’s shoulders, and pulled her out of the path of the descending club. She slid easily on the ice, and the guard stumbled as his cudgel met empty air. As the guard flailed to keep his balance, his weapon caught Lorenz on the shoulder.

Lorenz barely felt it through his anger. He unbent himself and demanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”

The guard found his feet, but his tongue faltered, stunned as he stared at this unexpected gentleman. “My…apologies, sir. I didn’t see…”

“Is this how you treat innocent women? Beatings and blows?”

The guard snapped, “She’s a thieving scavenger, sir.”

At his feet, the shivering girl looked at the ground, ashamed in a way she hadn’t been while gathering the stardust, as if the guard’s words had the power to turn her into the very thing he claimed she was.

It reminded Lorenz of some of the things that had been said about him in his early days in high society. It softened his heart and hardened his resolve. He’d do what he could to make the guard look at this girl with the respect she deserved. With all the indignation he felt, he shouted, “A thief, sir? She is my guest!”

Lorenz squared his shoulders, straightened some folds in his cloak, and loosed the cloakpin at his throat to show it to the guard. The silver setting bore the crossed swords and crescent moon of the House Diriks crest, and the center of it held a polished fragment of a glowing green star. “I am Lorenz Karel Fortuin, and my patron is Lady Diriks herself.”

The guard gazed at the pin, his face growing white. “That’s real.”

“It is.”

“And this girl is your guest?”

Thankfully, the night’s shadows hid details. Lorenz draped his now-unfastened cloak over the girl before the guard could get a better look at her clothes.

Lorenz murmured to the girl in soothing tones. “I told you to dress warmer, Anya.” Anya was a good name—vague enough to apply to peasant or princess.

As the shock passed, the guard grew more truculent. “Why was she gathering stardust?”

Lorenz asked, “What girl could resist a glittering starshower? It’s not illegal—fair falling stardust is public property.”

The guard didn’t seem quite convinced, so Lorenz turned his attention to the girl. He examined her face, crusted with sweat and snowflakes, cheeks chapped red from the cold. Her mouth was hanging open in surprise, and her brown eyes were wide with shock and hope. “Has he hurt you?” Lorenz asked.

“No,” she said.

“I’m glad of it,” he said gently. Then he turned back to the guard and snapped, “You ought to be glad of it, too. Harming a guest of House Diriks? Your lady would not be pleased.”

The guard’s pale, slack face suggested that he understood all too well what he’d escaped.

Lorenz helped the girl to her feet. She was taller than he’d realized, but impossibly thin. Swathed in his cloak, she looked breakable as glass.

“Stand tall,” he whispered, and when she stood more like a frightened lady than a battered street urchin, he escorted her past the baffled guard.

The guard watched them go with narrowed eyes, and Lorenz cast one cautious glance back toward the balcony. Most of the crowd stood heedless of the scene below, but a few sharp eyes followed Lorenz and his guest. Fortunately, he had plenty of experience in crafting scenes for balcony crowds.

Lorenz led the girl toward the house’s main doors and urged her toward the white silver-veined marble of the main staircase. “Let’s get you inside.”

She gave him a sharp, shrewd glance, more like her old self with the guard out of reach. “What are you doing, sir?”

Her words held a hundred other questions. Who are you? Why are you helping me? What are your intentions? He couldn’t hope to answer them with the eyes of House Diriks upon them.

“I’m helping you,” he whispered. He gestured in the guard’s direction with his eyes. “Until he’s out of the way.”

She took a step away from his side, and for a moment, Lorenz thought she’d bolt with his best cloak. But she merely examined him, top to toe, and seemed to come to some internal decision. “Thank you, sir,” she said, and started up the stairs.

The great blue doors opened before her, granting them entrance into the warmth and light of the House Diriks foyer. Lorenz bustled his guest past the outstretched hands of the attendants and toward a fireplace set between the curving staircases. She stared wide-eyed at everything they passed.

Lorenz smiled at her. “What do you think?”

“So bright,” the girl breathed.

Hardly fine poetry, but not an uncommon reaction upon entering the Dirik’s family’s city home. The Diriks House starfall was the prime landing place for solara stars—the largest and brightest that fell to Earth, with the purest, whitest light. Their decorations emphasized it on this dark midwinter night, with the crowning glory of a silver-limbed chandelier, holding half a thousand stars. Their light glinted off the silver veins in the marble flooring and the gilding in the deep blue wallpaper, sparkled on the bits of snow that swirled through the doors and brightened the eyes of the dustgirl guest who stared in wonder at it all.

He brought her to a wooden chair near the fireplace, hidden behind a marble pillar holding a bust of a House Diriks founder.

Here in the light, he could finally get a good look at her. She was thin and slight, but she was older than he’d realized—twenty at least, with softness to her face but a shrewdness in her eyes that hinted at experiences that had aged her further. Her hair was that indeterminate color between yellow and brown, wrapped in a ragged crown around her head. Her nose was dripping from the cold—he offered her a handkerchief before she wiped it on his cloak—and her eyes were as bright and green as the star in his House Diriks cloak pin.

“Are you well?” Lorenz asked her. “You took a nasty tumble.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” she said, speaking for the first time in more than a whisper. Her accent flattened and elongated her vowels—as stereotypical a specimen of the city’s lower classes as he’d ever heard. Lorenz had worked long and hard to train similar—though never so strong—tics out of his own voice.

“Did you keep the dust?” he asked.

Her dark eyes flashed. “It’s mine by right. I didn’t steal it. It fell fair, right to the ground.”

He dampened a smile. “I don’t plan to take it from you. The law’s on your side, so long as you didn’t knock anyone down to shake it loose.”

“I didn’t,” she insisted.

“There you go.” He couldn’t keep a lilt of amusement from his tone.

The girl caught it and scowled. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I told you. To get you away from the guard.”

“What’s that matter to a gentleman like you?”

He understood her suspicions. Many among the upper classes had little patience with their inferiors. “I guess I’m not as much of a gentleman as I appear.”

She went white, and seemed to try to fuse herself to the back of her chair.

“No!” Lorenz gasped, realizing the double meaning too late. He felt ill at the thought. “That was not an innuendo. I have no ungentlemanly intent toward you.”

The terror in the girl’s eyes changed to something livelier and more glittering. Almost as though she was laughing at him. “Don’t fret, sir. I believe you.”

Gruff with embarrassment, he said, “I only meant that I wasn’t born to this world.” Wasn’t much above a dustgirl myself when I started out.”

That amusement changed to interest. “That so, sir?”

He puffed up a little. “Rose through my own merit.”

“And you got a starfall lady’s crest. Is she sweet on you?”

Lorenz tried and failed to imagine Lady Diriks feeling tender emotions toward anyone, and felt ill at the thought of her pursuing someone so far her junior. “Lady Diriks is my patroness. I’m composer and lyricist at one of her theaters. I write showtunes, operettas.”

“They’ll pay you money for anything, these starfall swells.”

Pride wounded, Lorenz squared his shoulders. “They’re excellent songs. I’ll bet even you’ve hummed a tune or two by Lorenz Fortuin.”  

Her dark eyes stared into the distance before brightening with recognition. “That song about the lady!”

Lorenz wanted to point out this didn’t much narrow down the canon of music, but then she softly sang the first bars of a tune that was clearly “Nightingale’s Lament.” A surprisingly smooth alto.

“One of my better ones,” Lorenz said.

She smiled. “It’s pretty. I sing it to the little ones sometimes.”

“You have children?” he asked in surprise. She was old enough for it, he supposed, but not by much.

“Sisters,” she explained. “Three of ‘em. Oma watches them when I’m working.”

Supporting three young girls—and possibly, a grandmother—on pinches of stardust. It was poverty he couldn’t imagine.

He couldn’t think of anything to say in response. “I suppose,” he said, brushing the toe of one foot on the marble floor, “that you’ll need to be getting back to them.”

“Eventually,” she said, settling into her chair with a sigh. “But it’s cold out there and this fire’s so warm.” She closed her eyes, languid and content.

Her few minutes in the warmth had transformed her. The hard-edged desperation of the street had softened, and her pale, cold-chapped face had taken on a warmer glow. By now, the guard would be long gone, the balcony crowd distracted by their own amusements, but he couldn’t imagine forcing her back into those freezing streets so soon.

The girl looked at the fire, the star-filled chandelier, the skirts and furs and star necklace of a passing duchess.  “I’ll have one hell of a story to tell them at dawn.” They won’t believe the things I’ve seen.”

The words sparked a wild idea, more brilliant than the stars around them. Following the impulse, he asked,  “Would you like to see more?”

She looked at him warily. “How do you mean?”

“I really am allowed to bring a guest to these events.”

Her expression became hard and skeptical. “You want me to stay?”

“Why not?” Lorenz asked. His mind supplied a dozen answers, but his showman’s side and his romantic side teamed up against his more practical inner voice. Even a dustgirl had a right to see a glorious spectacle once in her life, and what could compare to a midwinter House Diriks ball?

The girl tugged Lorenz’s cloak around her snow-stained clothes. “For one thing, I ain’t dressed for it.”

Caught up in the excitement, his imagination spun glorious possibilities and leaped over obstacles. “House Diriks provides fully-staffed powder rooms for these parties. The maids can clean you up. Your dress will be a charmingly rustic costume.”

She looked up those stairs with longing. “Do you think so?”

A significant part of Lorenz didn’t, but it was tackled and sat upon by his more optimistic side.

“Just picture it,” Lorenz said. “The finest music, the most illustrious people. Food from the finest chefs on the continent. There are people in the city’s oldest families who can’t enter a House Diriks ball, but you could be an invited guest.”

He was drunk on the drama of it. It was madness, but such glorious madness. A melodrama fit for his finest operettas. The downtrodden dustgirl, pulled from the gutter to experience one night of luxurious enchantment. He would be her generous benefactor, her benevolent guide to this elegant world.

Her eyes sparkled in the starlight. His enthusiasm was infecting her. “You really mean it, sir?”

“I do.”

She grinned. “I’ll stay.”

He clapped his hands together in satisfaction. “Excellent! You won’t regret it.” He put his hand behind her back and began to lead her away from the seat behind the pillar. “I’ll be Lorenz to you, if you’re to be my guest. You’ll need to be Anya for the night. Those on the balcony may have overheard us.”

“That suits me,” Anya said.

He led her away from the fireplace and toward a yellow-papered door in a small alcove. “Very well, Anya. Let’s get you ready for the ball.”

[trashforgubler]

Hey, Ma

Word Count: .8k

Summary: You come home from work and walk in on Spencer and your daugher (Bella) renacting Shakespeare's “Much Ado About Nothing” in your living room

Extra Info: Shoutout to the English test I had today on this play for inspiring this fic. The song doesn’t have to do with the fic other than I just really like it and the title fits well, but it’s “Hey, Ma” by Bon Iver

Requests: Open

masterpost

After a long day at work, you wanted nothing more than to come home to a quiet household.

Unfortunately, you married Dr. Reid.

From first glance, you would think that he would be a mature, responsible man. His many doctorates and the fact that he wears a bow tie to Red Robin led you to such conclusions, but it didn’t take long for you too see who he really was. He was the kind of friend that held passionate arguments about whether Die Hard counted as a Christmas movie (he won, it does). He was the kind of husband who told you to close your eyes because he had a “sexy surprise” for you, only to greet you wearing a Winnie the Pooh onesie that was definitely not sexy. And the kind of father who puts on a princess crown and has tea with his daughter every Saturday morning. The shenanigans he pulled were endless, especially when you left him and Bella alone, and tonight was no exception.

You walked into your house and were immediately hit with the smell of chocolate chip pancakes. A peculiar dinner choice, but definitely not the strangest you’d ever walked in on them eating. The time Spencer went out and bought food dye just so he could make green eggs and ham would have to be the strangest thing that has been made in you kitchen. But what was more peculiar than the smell of breakfast at almost ten o’ clock at night, was what you heard. Very strong, very obnoxious, British accents coming from your living room.

“I wonder that you still be talking Benedict, nobody marks you!” your daughter said loudly, in a very sassy voice she could have only learned from her father.

And yet an even louder, sassier voice replied:

“What, My dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?”

What was your living room this morning, had now been turned into a stage. The sofa was lined with Bella’s stuffed animals, and Spencer had turned off all the lights in the house except two lamps, which he had pointed on himself and his daughter so that they were the only thing that stood out against the shadows.

You watched them silently from the darkness. They were so wrapped up in their performance, they hadn’t even heard you open the door. You held back a laugh as Bella so wonderfully delivered the iconic, “I would rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me,” line. The exhaustion that filled your every bone minutes before was completely gone. Looking back on it, it was probably a mistake to tell Spencer that Bella needed to do a certain amount of reading per night, because you guess this is where his mind went to.  It wasn’t until the end of the act that he finally looked up and saw you. “Bella, look who it is!”

“Momma!” Small arms wrapped around your waist as she crashed into you with so much force you had to take a step back to keep your balance.

“Hey cupcake!” No matter how hard your day was, a hug from her was always the cure. Of course, a little attention from Spencer defiantly didn’t hurt, which you were remined of as you felt a soft kiss on your cheek. Bella was more than excited to tell you all about what her and Spencer had done tonight. After picking her up from school, they went to the park and played soccer (she won), and then they came home, they made pancakes together, before Spencer decided that a school night was the perfect time to reenact one of theatre’s best comedies. After the initial excitement, you and Spencer simultaneously realized that it was an hour and a half past Bella’s bedtime, to which she was promptly sent upstairs to begin getting ready; only after Spencer promised to tuck her in.

Now that you were alone, you had a couple questions.

“Shakespeare? Spence she’s six.” You began helping him collect all the animals as you raised your eyebrows at him. “You know most dads reenact something like Goldilocks or Beauty and the Beast, right?”

“Well clearly I’m not most dads,” he said, gesturing to his kimono and mismatched fuzzy socks.

You had to crack a smile at that one. “Does she even understand what’s going on?”

“She’s my daughter of course she understands what’s going on,” he joked.

“Oh, don’t tell me she’s gonna turn out like you.”

“Y/N I will do absolutely everything in my power to assure that is exactly what happens.”

“Spence don’t you dare!” You laughed, launching a stuffed animal at him and hitting him square in the face.

“I will make it my personal mission to make sure she memorizes the periodic table and can tell you the stages of photosynthesis before she reaches the second grade!” He threw the stuffed animal back at you, his entire face glowing with happiness.

“At this rate, she’ll probably right her crush a sonnet for Valentine’s day!”

“After all the Shakespeare we’ve been doing together I should hope so!” The stuffed animal dodge ball continued for another ten minutes until you heard a shout. “Daddy! I’m ready!”

“Your princess is calling, Signor.” Spencer gave one final throw, nailing you in the stomach before heading upstairs with smile.

[alvertesongdiary]

Genesis Owusu - The Other Black Dog

A tale of black dogs with golden leashes Broken stories told facetious Who's the pet and who's the teacher? Hey, hey, hey, hey

All my friends are hurting, but we dance it off, laugh it off Scars inside our shoes but we just tap it off, clap it off Watch me coat in rainbow as I fade into the black And see, I switched myself to plastic, don't know how to change it back I'm being eaten on the inside, at least I look like a snack I haven't come out of my shell but don't know how long 'til I crack, ooh Do your dance right, pop a Xan right Fake romance right, live the trance right Smoke a plant right, miss a chance right Pray your hands right, dodge the glance right Doing whatever you do To make sure that you don't get stuck in the truth The green will not change what you're living from, blue And when you come down that's a terrible view Kill the thought that everyone you know Could care about you slippin' from control Embrace the blackness clouding on your soul And make it pretty deep inside your hole

I want to be your number one You'll hold me to the sky I want to be your golden thorn You'll love me 'til you die I want to be your shield and sword You'll never be the same I want to be your flesh and bone You'll take me to the grave

My chest empty, my brain on fire (Fire, fire, fire, fire) I fight myself to pass the time (Time, time, time, time) He looks at me with crimson eyes (Eye, eye, eye, eye) Then hugs me with the greyest tide I see the darkness creeping through the peephole Felt the grip it had on all my people Heard the screams from park to slum to steeple Shining sugars dressed outside the evil Watch yourself, watch your way Life ain't shit but a theatre play Learn your lines or get cut today Smile, don't show no cavity Won't you save my soul, save my soul? Let my body grow Putting together two blades of a feather, then pulling apart just to put on a show (Ah) That's how the story will go (Ah) The dog with the blackest of bones (Ah) It rides on the back of my clothes (Ah) And flocks with a murder like crows (Ah)

I want to be your number one You'll hold me to the sky I want to be your golden thorn You'll love me 'til you die I want to be your shield and sword You'll never be the same I want to be your flesh and bone You'll take me to the grave

(Side by side by side by side by side) (Side by side by side by side by side) (Side by side by side by side by side) (Side by side by side by side by side) (Side by side by side by side by side) (Side by side by side by side by—)

I want to be your number one You'll hold me to the sky I want to be your golden thorn You'll love me 'til you die I want to be your shield and sword You'll never be the same I want to be your flesh and bone You'll take me to the grave

Young nigga shit, nigga, we don't age Young nigga shit, nigga, we don't age

Oh, what, you don't know what you're feeling? (Say it to me) You tryna cope but you ain't dealing (Say it to me) You see the cracks up in the ceiling (Say it to me) You wanna see when you start healing (Say it to me) Oh, what, you don't know what you're feeling? (Say it to me) You tryna cope but you ain't dealing (Say it to me) You see the cracks up in the ceiling (Say it to me) You wanna see when you start healing (Say it to me) Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ha Ah, shit, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, ha, that's good

27/04/2021