#i just Love the isaacson brothers

[aristotles-denial]

ok alienist tag we get it, daniel bruhl as kreizler is hot. now can we move on and talk about marcus isaacson for a second . thank you.

[the-hidden-pages]

Misread Affections - Laszlo Kreizler/Fem!Reader SMUT

I started at midnight. I had 0 words. It’s 4:30am. I have 4643 words because I have fallen deeply for Doctor Laszlo Kreizler. Forgive me for this.

Synopsis: With all your history together, you and Doctor Kreizler believe you understand each other. Yet when you believe him to be infatuated with Karen Stratton, and he believes you to have affection for Marcus Isaacson, you’re both stunned when you find yourselves to be proven wrong.

Warnings: NSFW. Desk Sex. Dirty Talk. Patient-to-Friend-to-Lover. Definite depression and general self-loathing.

SPOILERS FOR THE SECOND SEASON!!!!!!

You had always admired the man Doctor Laszlo Kreizler was.

He championed those who could not champion themselves. He worked tirelessly to understand the minds of criminals. To those very same criminals, and many others that lived as outcasts to society, he would offer kindness and understanding. At his best he was beyond intelligent and, daresay, sweet.

At his worst, he was ruthless, and his own self-loathing would have him come across as unempathetic most days. While preaching to others to care for himself, he would often forego his own care. While offering an ear and a receptive mind, he would refuse to offer himself the same.

You knew this within mere days of knowing Doctor Kreizler. And such facts made you rather fond of him.

A fondness that was not helped by his handsome build, his dark locks, his scrutinizing gaze.

And yet no part of you could justify ever acting upon this fondness.

You had come to him both as a patient and a colleague. You had always been aware of a darkness within yourself, ever since you were a child. This darkness had only grown, too often all-consuming, leaving you. a dysfunction wreck of a human being. However, you had an obligation to keep going, a promise you had sworn to your sister to continue your own existence. So, exist you did.

While your family’s fortune wasn’t enough to send you to Harvard, like the Doctor himself, it did allow for you to be a reasonably educated woman of the times. A deep fascination in understanding your own darkness led you to the work of alienists, and eventually to the work of Doctor Kreizler.

While you couldn’t often justify breaking societal rules to such an extent, you found yourself motivated enough to call upon the Doctor with a proposition – should he aide you in understanding your own illness of the brain, you would offer any services you could to the Kreizler Institute.

You could tell he was curious of you. A woman of your standing did not often make such demands with such authority, nor so blatantly admit to her own illnesses. He quickly agreed, eager to study why you considered yourself so damaged, and happy to take on an extra set of hands with the children he looked after.

Over time, you begun to slip effortlessly into Doctor Kreizler’s life.

You met the likes of Cyrus and Stevie, along with many others that worked at the Institute. You were then blown away by the strength within Miss Sara Howard, and the pure, undiluted love that Mister John Schuyler Moore could show others. You were even called upon on several occasions to be a fresh set of eyes, the murders of young boy prostitutes and kidnappings of babies not deterring you, to the surprise and reluctant joy of the Doctor.

And as Doctor Kreizler studied you, you studied him.

You slowly learned of all the emotion he kept hidden behind the façade of professionalism. The kindness, the love, the anger, the fear. While he showed none of these most days, occasionally a concoction of such feeling would burst in an overwhelming outpour.

In offering him a platonic safe space, a place for him to talk through such outbursts should he wish, he in turn aided you.

The darkness you felt for so long began to subside some days, and between the efforts of him and a passing remark from John, you learned of an outlet for your darker thoughts – writing.

While expressing your own emotions and turmoil did not come easy, you found it far simpler when written down on paper, as opposed to spoken aloud to a judging room.

Doctor Kreizler gifted you a beautiful leather-bound journal a mere day after this revelation, with the request that you record your thoughts. He promised he would not read it unless you requested him to as an act of therapy.

For many days, you allowed him to read any thoughts that came to mind.

Thoughts of blood, of death, of pain and anger. Thoughts of a stolen childhood, of worthlessness, of longing.

Many days when he read your pages, you would be silently crying as he did, fearful of his judgement. But it never came.

Instead, he would close the book silently, and offer you professional advice.

One particularly rough day, in which your narrative was beyond vicious to you, he closed the book before finishing, and offered you something you didn’t expect – an embrace.

He hugged you so tightly, that for once…

Your inner monologue ceased.

His own, however, raged on.

How could you think so lowly of yourself, he wondered? While he could understand mindsets built from trauma, he couldn’t help but wish you could see yourself through his own eyes. Your empathy when you cared for the children in the Institute. Your intelligence when conversing with Miss Howard. Your artistic delight when laughing with John. And the perspective, the warmth you offered such a broken man such as himself.

Neither of you knew, in that exact moment, that the other was realizing the fondness you both held in your hearts for each other.

And neither of you knew how truly broken the other felt at their core.

Two souls, believing themselves to be undeserving of love, finding it in their hearts for the other.

When the beautiful, cunning Doctor Karen Stratton entered the picture, you asked Doctor Kreizler to refrain from reading your journal.

He was hurt by this, but profession and courtesy claimed that he could not show it.

You began to withdraw from him, placing your entire focus on the case of the stolen babies and your focus on the children in the Institute. Kreizler, in his own difficulties of potentially losing the said Institute, took notice of your own withdrawal from your sessions, but held enough hope that you had found stability to care for yourself. You still conversed with Sara, you smiled with John. You had even been introduced to the Isaacsons, and he had wondered if you had taken a liking to Marcus.

You deserved a young man such as him, he told himself, heart heavy. A whole, young man with enough strength to support you.

And on the night of Marcus’ death, he believed it to be confirmed.

He found you alone, in his study where you so often had your sessions with him. You were curled inwards on yourself, clutching your journal as though it were your lifeline, sobbing uncontrollably.

He moved to console you, arms holding you tightly.

“It’s all too much,” you choked out, unable to articulate much more.

 Doctor Kreizler nodded, waiting for you to be able to go on.

You regained some breath with difficulty. “I just…I can’t stand to lose a friend. Not after everything else lately.”

 “I know how difficult it can be, to lose one you love…” Kreizler began, not noticing how your sobs stopped in confusion. “After Mary, I…Well I swore I would never again…The point is, I-“ he stopped short.

You had spluttered out a laugh.

 Your hand covered your mouth immediately, noticing what had just happened. You immediately moved to cover it up, wiping away your tears and standing up away from him. “No, no, Doctor. Heavens, Marcus…well, he was loved but, I saw…I see the Isaacsons as brothers I never had. He was dear to me but…not in the sense I suspect that Mary was to you.”

 “I…see…” Doctor Kreizler pulled back, sitting in his study chair as he gazed at you. “Apologies, I seem to have misread your relationship. Nonetheless, his death has greatly affected you, as it has all of us. I suspect it will be a very difficult grieving process, but…” he manages a soft, rare smile that warmed your heart. “We will endure it together, as we have these cases.”

“Will we?” your voice grew empty as your thoughts swirled.

He titled his head, unsure of where this was leading. You gathered your courage to question him.

“Rumour has it, Doctor Stratton has asked you to join her in Vienna. I wonder if you’ll go.”

 Silence falls over the room.

 Laszlo couldn’t understand what this had to do with anything. Your crying, your distress over Marcus. What did his leaving have to do with any of your distress?

 “You’re greatly upset by something,” he eventually said, gazing at you with a more analytical eye than before. “I’m afraid you give me too much credit, if you think I know the specifics of it.”

“I-“ you stopped, clearing your throat as you choked up. Your knuckles turned white on your journal’s edges, hands shaking. “Doctor Kreizler-“

“It’s been months since we’ve known each other,” he interrupts, “and we haven’t held a session together in nearly five weeks. Would it pain you to call me Laszlo? Are we not…friends?”

You gaped at him, but his face remained unreadable.

  You shake your head. “Yes, it…it would pain me. It would pain me a great deal, Doctor – it does pain me a great deal to hear you call me a friend when…”

“When what?” he prompts you sharply, and you inhale quickly.

“When I feel I’ve been dishonest with you, unkind to you…” had the room not been dead still, Laszlo might have missed the next words you whispered. “I feel I’ve been perverse to you.”

 If he was confused, he didn’t show it. And you were talking now, the words spilling out, a cascade unable to end.

“I feel as though…had Marcus not…died…tonight, I might never have done this. But then my mind, it began spinning so quickly I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t help but imagine countless scenarios in which Libby, in which the Dusters, in which…well, in which any number of causes might take your life as well. In which you might die before…before I can confess…” You huff, your words getting caught once again. With a determined move, your arm shot out to pass your journal to him, and Kreizler takes note of a particular page being creased.

 He looks up at you, but you don’t meet his eye.

“I’ve marked where I want you to start reading. Just…go from there. Inform me when you’re finished.”

You walk over to the window, desperate to be distracted, as Doctor Kreizler opens the book and reads at your request.

           He can’t comprehend what he’s reading at first.

           While he had grown accustomed to your twisted perception of yourself, he hadn’t realized just how ruthless the self-loathing could take you. Endless doubt of your friendships with the team, with your position as a caretaker, in your abilities to be a friend.            And as words continue, he realizes your doubts in being a partner, a lover.

           If he grows flustered at the words he reads, he’s determined not to show it to you.

           He reads your envy of women like Sara Howard, able to move forward with such strength and certainty, and of Karen Stratton, so brash, so forward. Your envy is strong towards her, in her abilities to understand sexuality, passion, human desire, and in…

           In her connection to himself.

           His eyes widen as your own ramblings seem to uncover a truth you hadn’t explored before – your attraction to the Doctor that had aided you, offered you employment. The pure taboo of such affections, yet your inability to stop it. Your adoration, your admiration for the intimidating, raw man that he was. How you felt unworthy, that you would hold him back, that he deserved a woman as delightful as Doctor Stratton, a woman who could stimulate him academically, that could pleasure him physically. How you felt so deeply ashamed of harbouring such elicit fantasies of the man that had been nothing but kind to you. How you loved him so deeply it made you want to die, because you would never be deserving –

           You heard the journal snapping shut, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face the Doctor, knowing what he must’ve read, dreading what he must now be thinking.

           The silence lasted far longer than you would’ve liked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

           “I find myself taken aback more often than I like,” Kreizler’s voice shatters the still air. “I believe myself to be so wise, so understanding of the mind, and yet I come across a mind such as yours that I…I truly cannot fathom how you think what you think.”

           “I’m sorry,” you start, voice breaking as tears begin to flow again.

           You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand on your own. You don’t dare to turn around, frozen like a rabbit having been sniffed out by a hound.

           “You think me to be attracted to Doctor Stratton, am I correct?”

           You nod. Of course, he was. Was it not obvious?

           “Karen and I are colleagues, and friends, should I be too bold to assume so. I can recognize that she is a physically beautiful woman, yes, and I’m sure some day she will make a man a very happy husband, should she wish. But her and I have a kinship, a partnership, not unlike what I believe you and Marcus might have had, that I too misinterpreted as love.”

           You sniff, closing your eyes tightly. What was he trying to tell you?

           Doctor Kreizler spins you around slowly, leading you to face him.

           “I do not harbour half the affection in my heart for Doctor Stratton as I do for you.”

           You freeze. “Doctor-“

           “Please,” he reaches up to cup your face, wiping away several of the tears that had fallen. “Please call me Laszlo. You are not the only one to have an epiphany after the loss of our friend, my dear. If you are being so honest with me, I feel it only right to offer you the same.”

           “Laszlo…” you whisper, meeting his eyes for the first time since he read your words. His heart breaks with the pain within them. “How can you do this? Look at me, hold me, when you see how broken I am? I’m undeserving-“

           “You would choose to love, to care for a cripple, a shell of a man in the eyes of society. A man who has too often neglected the children he cares for, often spat in the face of those he dares to call his friends. If either of us is undeserving of the other’s love, my dear, it’s me.”

           Your brows furrow angrily, reaching up to mirror him, cupping his own face with both of yours. “Laszlo Kreizler you stop that right now, I won’t hear any more of…you’re smiling. How could you be smiling?”

           He leans into one of your hands affectionately, a rare, dashing smile lighting up his features in a way you cherished to see, despite the circumstances. “Perhaps we are both wrong. Perhaps…perhaps we need each other, to use each other’s eyes and hearts to understand who we truly are. We both have such lowly opinions of ourselves but…perhaps it was meant to be.”

           Your own smile was beginning to form, despite your best efforts, as your brain’s screaming of all that could go wrong began to quieten.

           “I hesitate to believe in fate, Doctor…” you trail off, taking a step closer, your heart filled with hope and eyes filled with wonder. “I hesitate further to admit to needing someone, and yet…my brain is only ever kind and quiet when I’m around you.”

           Laszlo’s weaker arm rests on your hip, while the thumb of the hand caressing your face moves to trace your chin. “My language is not as…poetic, as yours, my dear,” he confesses, and you both chuckle, “but I very much would like to kiss you, with your permission.”

           “Laszlo, you could do anything to me,” you confess, reaching forward to finally meet his lips.

           It’s messy, and uncoordinated, but any lack of experience the pair of you may have is made up for by the pure, electric eagerness that overtakes the both of you. You’re both exploring, testing each other, in some give and take dance that does not seem to quell any emotions within you, instead quite the opposite.

           You could kiss him forever, you quickly realize.

           But by some cruel twist of fate, you have to pull away, air taking priority.

           You stare wildly at him as he breathes heavily, eyes darker than you had ever seen, with a sense of uncertainty that you hadn’t ever seen about him before.

           A teasing smile finds its way onto your face, as you can’t help but test your luck.

           “How far, exactly, did you read in my book?”

           He blinks at you a couple of times, uncertain of your line of questioning. “I read of your jealousy, of your shame, I don’t…I don’t believe I finished it all, I found I had to address the issue before I continued –“

           “Would you like to know what else was in there?”

           Laszlo appeared flustered as you led him back to his plush chair, and you knelt down between his legs to pick up the book that had fallen to the ground. You don’t offer it to him, however, instead putting it aside.

           “My dear, I don’t –“

           “I ask you to stop me, if my advances are too…forward to you, Laszlo.”

           You slowly rise from your place, moving to lift your skirts so you might position yourself above the Doctor, straddling him in his chair. As if on its own accord, his good hand rises to situate on your waist tightly. You gently grasp his weaker hand, his “broken wing”, and lift it to your mouth, delicately kissing the palm, each finger.

           Laszlo mutters your name, transfixed by your mouth’s movements.

           “I would love every part of you,” you begin, continuing your assault of affection as you whisper against the part of him, he views as most broken. “I would care for you in every capacity in which I’m capable. I would strive to be deserving of you in every which way.” You drop his hand and lean forward, hands grasping the back of the chair as you hold his gaze. “I would have you claim every part of me, I would have your marks for the world to see, if you wished. I’ve dreamt of you and I in the most compromising positions that I dare not say, on nearly every surface of your study, my bedroom, the Institute. I would give you every single piece of me, Laszlo, every ounce of my attraction. I would give you my darkest sins and my deepest pleasure, if you would allow me too. Please, Doctor Kreizler, let me please you.”

           You didn’t know what you were expecting from your confession.

           Perhaps you wondered if he would push you away, exclaiming that your desires were too much, your words too sinful, and that he would cease associations with you immediately. Perhaps you thought he would scold you for being too wanton, too unbecoming of a woman of your standing. Perhaps you hoped the worst that would happen is he would kiss you softly and instruct that you both go to bed in separate rooms, that more carnal needs could be discussed at a later date.

           Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to feel Laszlo shift and harden beneath you, eyes growing so dark they were nearly completely black, and have him reach his hand to curl around the back of your neck.

           And you certainly didn���t expect the deep growl that escaped him as his lips, tongue, and teeth clashed with yours frantically, animalistically.

           Neither of you had experience, you both knew this.

           But you both knew what you wanted, what you needed, and that would be enough to motivate you.

           You both took what you could, Laszlo leaving your lips to reach what he could of your neck, lavishing it with lips and tongue. He explored expertly, quickly learning what you liked based upon the quickening of your breath, of your pulse. What was left of his analytical mind was fascinated by the chain reaction of events, how you spurred each other on.

           When he nipped at your ear, your hips rolled uncontrollably, and a rough groan escaped him unconsciously.

           Fascinating indeed.

           He panicked slightly when you stood, wondering if he had stepped too far. The panic raised as you strode across his study, heading quickly to the door.

           “Wait, my dear, I-“

           “Calm down, Laszlo,” you hushed him, and he heard a loud click of the door locking from where he sat. “I merely don’t wish to be interrupted. If this is still what you wish.”

           He leans back in his chair, breathing heavily, observing you as you stand once again before him. “I should be asking you what you want, my darling.”

           You grin, shaking your head. “Was my speech before not enough for you to know what I want, Doctor Kreizler? Can you not infer exactly what I want from you from the writings in my journal? It’s your turn to share, else I might just leave you like this.”

           His good hand involuntarily juts forward, grasping yours desperately.

           “Don’t you dare.”

           You giggle, and he smiles at the sound.

           “Then, tell me what you wish, Doctor.”

           “I wish…” he trails off, watching as your hands move upward to begin slowly undressing yourself.

           “Yes?” You prompt him teasingly, continuing your motions. “Don’t mind me.”

           Laszlo shifts in his chair, erection clearly visible by the bulge in his slacks. “I…I wish…” his voice trails off again as his eyes take in every inch of your skin that’s uncovered. “I wish to be with you in every manner. Intellectually, spiritually, physically. I wish to connect with you in a way I never will with any other living creature on this Earth. I wish to feel you around me, to bring you to climax. I wish to fill you, to be yours, to fuck you, to make you Mrs. Kreizler…”

           He stops at that, only becoming aware of his own ramblings you straddled him once again, completely nude.

           The faintest voice in his head wondered if you made him stupid, but it was silence as his eyes took you in completely.

           “You are the most gorgeous specimen I’ve ever been graced with seeing, my love.”

           You pull him in to a languid kiss, gently tasting each other as your hand travels down his chest.

           “You speak of love, of my being Mrs. Kreizler…” you start, almost losing your train of thought as you feel him twitch beneath you, your hips rolling to meet his. “Another day I’ll ask you to remind me of those words. But for now…” you lean forward, mouth grazing his ear, causing him to shiver. “I need you to fuck me, Doctor Laszlo Kreizler.”

           For all of your faith in him, you don’t expect the next feat of strength.

           With only his good arm he manages to lift the pair of you from the chair, quickly placing you upwards and onto the desk of his own study, mindless of the papers underneath you, of any others that might be in the building as you shriek in surprise.

           He captures your mouth with his, more forceful, captivating, as his good hand explores your form, grasping both of your breasts before heading downwards to the warmth between your thighs. His fingers collect some of the wetness that had escaped your folds and examines it with an almost mocking scientific fascination.

           “Is this all for me, my darling?” he questions, and you find yourself at a loss for words as he curiously lifts his fingers to his mouth, his tongue slowly tasting you off of them.

           “Fuck, Laszlo,” you whisper, reaching forward to pull him in for a kiss again as he chuckles darkly against you.

           His teasing ends when your hands wander downward, now working at the buttons of his slacks frantically, your palm grazing across his length through his pants, causing him to gasp.

           “My God,” he pants out, and you pull him out of his slacks. He’s hard, warm, rigid in your palm, with veins and girth that you hadn’t imagined in any of your fantasies, but was now all you could imagine filling you, ending that emptiness that you felt.

           “Please,” you whimper, and he gently removes your hand, before lining his cock up with your entrance.

           He meets your eyes, checking one last time to ensure this was what you wanted.

           “Laszlo, please –“your begging is cut short as he breaches you slowly, pushing his full weight forward as the pair of you connect.

           It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

           A tantalizing combination of pleasure and pain, your mind repeating an endless mantra of “Laszlo”, which you realize, when he’s fully inside, flush against you, that you’re muttering out loud.

           “Oh, my love,” he breathes, his damaged arm lightly resting on your thigh, his other gripping your hip so tightly you knew there would be marks.

           “You feel so right,” you mindlessly breathe, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him twitching inside you at the comment. You would remember that he likes praise, but…

“I don’t know that I will last long, my love,” Laszlo warns, his voice low, gravely, warm against your neck as he buries his face into it, pressing kisses into the skin of your shoulder.

It crosses your mind that you’re completely nude and he’s fully clothed, but the thought fills you with warmth rather than disappointment.

“Nor will I, but this will happen again, won’t it?” you question, a hint of doubt crossing your voice.

The Doctor silences it immediately, kissing you deeply. “Every night, every hour if you would let me, my darling. You are so wonderful…”

“Then please, fuck me Laszlo. I want to cum, I want you to fill me, I – oh!”

The first snap of his hips was relentless, and it was only more intense from there.

He was strong, sure of his movements, chasing his own pleasure and encouraging yours as much as he could, pressing kisses into your neck, your breasts, your lips, his good hand finding your hair tightly. Broken moans left you as dark, rasping breaths escaped him, and it was all too soon before you felt your peak approaching, familiar with the sensation from lonely nights with your own hand curiously working against yourself.

“Laszlo, Doctor Kreizler, I-“ at your moaning of his title, something in him snapped, and his teeth sunk into where your neck met your shoulder.

A deep cry left you as you reached your climax, a white-hot rush waving over you.

As your cunt clenched around him, Laszlo lost himself, growling his native German tongue as he lost his rhythm, heat filling you as he came.

You two didn’t have much time to come down from your highs, as the door to his home could be heard opening and closing from the floors below.

“Doctor Kreizler?” Sara Howard could be heard calling.

Your eyes wide, you rushed to put yourself back together, close wrinkled, roughly thrown back on and your hair being a wreck. You hoped you could pass it off as merely the result of a rough day, an intense mental break.

You turned to Kreizler, who was a picture of perfection, seeming to not be rattled by the events before…almost.

           “Back to the case…?” he trailed off, his voice filled with uncertainty, and you smiled fondly at the terribly awkward, intelligent man before you.

           You step forward and kiss him softly, the warmth between your legs and bruises on your thigh a reminder of what had just occurred.

           “Back to the case. We can continue our escapades when it’s all over, Doctor.”

           He chuckles, confidence returning to him as he nods. “I look forward to it.”

[lumina-rose]

Tear You Apart

Chapter 3/4

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32168824/chapters/80048179

Pairing:

Laszlo x Reader

Summary:

Mere months after the conclusion of the Beecham case, Dr.Kreizler and his associates are asked once again to solve a new series of murders that plague the streets of New York. They are joined by the alienist’s new assistant, who’s presence soon unravels startling revelations. Not only within the case, but also within the mind of one of their own.

(This story is set between the events of Season 1 and Season 2)

Warnings:

Murder Mystery, Graphic Description of Corpses, slight dark!Laszlo (kinda. Think Will “This is my design” Graham), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Minor Violence, Friends to Lovers,Assistant, Boss/Employee Relationship,Tension, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining, Kidnapping, Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Abuse

(More Future Warnings TBD)

Notes: 

Adding an extra warning for this chapter, just in case.

This chapter deals with themes of violence, kidnapping, captivity, non-consensual touching, non-consensual groping, and implied abuse.

Chapter 3: Lily

Dr. Kreizler was not a man who considered himself superstitious.

Ever since he was a boy, he clung to his curiosity, searching for answers through science rather than religion in order to understand the world around him, even if it left his reputation tarnished to the more traditionally-raised, God-fearing socialites of New York. Yet, even as a child, there had always been a darkness that surrounded him, drawing in trouble wherever he went. No, Laszlo was not superstitious, but there seemed no other term to describe himself other than cursed.

You had been missing for two days, and even logic and reason could not explain why history seemed destined to repeat itself.

Following your night at the opera, Kreizler had thought it odd that you had not appeared at the Institute the following day. You had not seemed unwell, during your outing- quite the opposite, actually- and yet the fact remained that your presence was notably absent. At first, the alienist pushed his worry aside. After all, you had spent what was supposed to be a night of rest by his side. He reasoned that perhaps you had simply drained yourself, driving yourself to exhaustion with both the investigation and the concern you had displayed for him. But what truthfully unsettled him was the lack of warning of your absence. It was unlike you.

Regardless, even with your absence, Kreizler quickly worked through the day's sessions and duties, leaving most of the day free to continue working on the investigation. Your theory the day before had intrigued him, and gave valuable insight into what the killer's motives and background could be. With a newfound momentum, Laszlo called for Stevie, sending the ward to gather his colleagues here at the Institute, in order to follow this new train of thought. He also instructed Stevie to find you, deciding that it would be best to check on you, if only to calm his own anxieties. With that, all that was left to do was wait.

Marcus and Lucius were the first to arrive, punctual as always.  Not wishing to waste any time, the twins immediately went to discuss their new findings with the doctor, picking out bits of information that may be relevant to figuring out the killer's identity. Kreizler listened, drawing connections to their findings with the theory you had created. John was the next to arrive, quickly followed by Sara. The two had not had much to work with, in terms of narrowing down who the killer may be, but found a couple police reports and articles that had spoken about similar incidents. Laszlo nodded, giving his own opinions and comments occasionally, but his mind continued to drift elsewhere. He had pulled out his pocket watch, when he heard a new set of footsteps. Quickly, he looked up, only to see Stevie once again. Ushering the boy inside, he asked if he had found you.

"I tried, Dr. Kreizler, but I couldn't find her anywhere." Stevie explained. "Even went by the house a few times, but no one ever answered. Her door was locked, so I thought maybe she came back here."

Laszlo sighed, audibly upset by the news. "Right, thank you Stevie."

This caught the attention of everyone in the room. After the boy left the room, Sara turned to Laszlo.

"Has something happened?" She asked, sensing Laszlo's growing worry. "How long has she been missing?"

The alienist simply shook his head. "Since this morning. At first I thought I was simply overreacting, but now I'm not so sure..."

Saying his admission aloud, Laszlo realized how troubling the whole situation had seemed. He explained where you had been last night, and how Kreizler had made sure to get you home safely after the opera, only to find that you had not come to the Institute today. John stood up from his seat, sending a glance to Sara and the brothers. They stayed silent, throwing silent glances back and forth, as if talking through looks alone. Finally, Sara stepped forward.

"I believe we should go to her home, ourselves. If we find that she is safe, then we can continue our investigation."

"What're you saying?" Lucius interjected, stunned by Sara's proposal. "What would you have us do? Having the five of us show up unannounced to (y/n)'s home might be an overreaction, considering it hasn't even been a day."

"You may be right," Sara starts. "but I'd like to make sure nothing has happened to her. I won't be able to shed the guilt if the worst has come."

Laszlo's heart sank at her words, reminding him of the very same doubts and worries he had told you of the night before.

Moving quickly, Laszlo went to grab his jacket, placing it on as he spoke. "I'm going-"

Once more, Lucius was wary. "Dr. Kreizler-"

"-stay here if you must, Lucius." He turned, leaving no room for argument as he walked towards the exit.

Reluctantly, Lucius followed after Laszlo, with Marcus's hand on his shoulder. Sara and John were already standing, ready to leave with the doctor, the same memory of the Beecham case fresh in their mind. With that, it didn't take long for them to reach your home, a mere few blocks away from the Institute. It was a relatively small building, not like the towering apartments that surrounded it on either side. It was as though someone had taken a cottage from the countryside and placed it right on the streets of New York.

There were no lights on, by the windows. A fact that shouldn't have been strange, considering it was now late into the day. Even so, it caused a sense of looming dread to enter Laszlo's mind. It felt so similar when he had returned to his own home all those months ago, as though time was repeating itself. First with Mary, now with you. As the group called and knocked on your door, drawing the scrutinizing and curious stares of the people passing by, Laszlo concluded that he must have been cursed. How else could he explain the events unfolding? Truly, everyone that was drawn towards him seemed destined to either leave or be taken from him.

There had been one thing that gave him hope that it would be different.

With Mary, she had been a constant, comforting presence. What he felt towards her had not always been there, not until much later after their first interactions, but it had been a source of happiness and warmth. The feeling of being known so completely, without needing so much as a word being spoken. Mary had brought out a kindness in him that even he had feared he did not possess. It had been sweet and somewhat innocent love, regardless of the rather unusual dynamic.

With you, it was a similar feeling, but not entirely the same. Where his feelings for Mary were more subtle, there had always been an underlying want in his relationship with you. At first, it had simply been a need to understand you. How you could be so similar to him, sharing that same curiosity for the human mind, yet still be able to catch him by surprise with your insights. He wanted to know about you, every little detail. Learning what made you tick, what made you happy, and what parts of your mind you had not shown to anyone else. Yet, even that wasn't enough. It wasn't until much recently, had Laszlo deduced the source of this incessant need for you. Where his feelings for Mary had made him recognize the lighter side of him, you made him realize that perhaps the darkness there was deeper than he knew. But he welcomed that new feeling just as enthusiastically, after the events of the opera.

What he felt for Mary and for you were very different, but just as intense. He had hoped, foolishly, that those differences would change something. And yet it seemed as if history was playing out again, as it had before.

"Unlock the door."

Laszlo's words were met with hesitation by the group, before they noticed the clear distress in his expression. Marcus nodded, placing the bag he held down in front of the door, before crouching down to pick the lock. Once unlocked, Sara opened the door, leaning in through the frame to look inside. From what she could tell, the study and kitchen were empty, and she could hear no sounds of movement, even after she called your name. Slowly, one-by-one, the five of them entered your home.

"Marcus and I will check upstairs," Sara decided, earning a nod from the Isaacson brother. "I believe there are a few rooms further back."

As they split up inside the house, Laszlo found himself at a loss. Although he had stopped by a couple of times, he had never truly taken the time to examine the home. Outside of the paintings that decorated the walls and the furniture provided to you, the home was extremely bare. Only a handful of personal items were scattered about, as well as a couple of books he had given you to read. For each and every room the doctor passed, it dawned on him that you had not been exaggerating when you had told him you dropped everything to move to New York. He wondered just how much you had left behind.

"Dr. Kreizler!"

Marcus's voice called out, clearly alarmed, causing the air to still throughout the house. Rushing upstairs,  John, Lucius, and Laszlo all went to join Marcus and Sara, only stopping once they saw the man exit what appeared to be your bedroom. A small bouquet of roses in his hands.

You awoke with your eyes closed. The only thing grounding you to reality was the steady, throbbing pulse in the back of your head, causing a dull ache to pass over you with every beat. With a low groan, you blinked, as you thought about how rough work at the Institute was going to be, if this headache was going to plague you. As you shot up from the bed, letting out a painful cry, you went to raise your hand to you head. Only for them to be pulled back harshly, by a binding pressure against your wrists.

You blinked, and suddenly the pain in your head was in the back of your mind. Your eyes shot to your hands, ignoring the sting of the sudden action. A bundle of knots bound you, as a rope dug into your skin, leashing you to the unfamiliar bed frame behind you.

No. no. no no no. You thought in a panic, realizing the gravity of your current situation.

You took in your surroundings, seated on a small bed in the center of a room. There were no windows, and only a small lamp by the door lit the small space. The walls were bare, save for the portrait of a young woman. The only exit was a wooden door, with cracks forming from the bottom. Your heart racing, you tried to recall your memory of the events last night. What had happened to you? Where were you? Who brought you here?

You remembered the opera, and your pleasant time with Laszlo there, and how he had escorted you back to your home. So why couldn't you remember falling asleep there? Why were you still wearing the same dress you had spent hours deciding on? You had watched the carriage ride far out of sight, Stevie at the reins. You had opened the door to your home, without the use of your key, as it had been unlocked already.

Unlocked. Despite having purposefully locked it before leaving for the night.

"Stupid." Your breath hitched, as you cursed yourself for not noticing such a mistake. You hadn't even realized. Too giddy and tired from the emotional events of the opera.

Your heart raced, as you grew more and more frustrated, causing you to tug at your bindings. But no luck came. You thought back to what you did after entering your home. You had placed a few things down, before retiring to your bedroom, in order to change into your night clothes and sleep. But you never made it that far. In a sudden moment of clarity, a memory returned to you. You had sat down in front of your vanity mirror, before noticing a flash of red in the mirror. A bouquet of roses. Perhaps it was the fear and shock of the realization that the killer they’d been hunting had been in your home that caused you to lose consciousness. However, the pain in your head suggested otherwise.

Whatever the case was, you were now trapped in a room, after being taken from your home by the very person you had spent months trying to find. But aside from the distressing predicament of your kidnapping, what unsettled you most was the sudden deviation in behavior. If you truly had been taken by the killer you were searching for, why were you still alive? Why did he take you? What did he plan to do to you?

You didn't want to wait to find out, but found that you had little choice in the matter. No matter how many times you tugged and pulled at your bindings, the restraint never weakened. You had tried untying the knots on the bed frame, in hopes that you may be able to escape, even if your hands were tied together. The knots however, were tight and overlapping each other, and no amount of strength that you possessed could undo them. In desperation, you looked at the wooden door, knowing that it was all that stood between you and freedom. If you only could unbind your hands. But even if you had escaped, you didn't know where you were, or who's home you were in.

The answer didn't come till what felt like hours later. You had sat yourself up into a more comfortable position on the bed, where the rope would not pull at your now-aching wrists, and jumped as the wooden door suddenly opened.

Your heart leapt to your throat, and all you could seem to do was stare at the figure in the doorway. You were shocked. Your were speechless. You wanted to deny it, to try and lie to yourself by saying that he couldn't be the one who took you. That his presence here was merely some miraculous coincidence. But you weren't that naive. Still, never had you thought the same man who would regularly stop by your house could potentially be a murderer.

"Mr. Arnett." You breathed out, finally.

"Good evening, my dear." He greeted, his tone just as casual as any other time you had spoken. As though it was normal, to have you tied up in a room against your will.

As he stepped into the room, you found yourself growing more and more anxious with each of his steps. He had asked you something, a question you couldn't recall. You couldn't even find it within you to respond, knowing that anything you said might make your situation worse. If Arnett truly was the same man who’d been killing the women of New York, then it’s likely he’d have no issue using that same violence against you. Although, he had already changed his behavior, choosing to attack you in your own home, rather than on the street. That alone revealed that he was unpredictable.

"What..what am I doing here?" You asked, fearfully. You wanted your tone to come off as more questioning, rather than upset. You knew that if Laszlo’s theory was correct, the only reason you weren’t dead yet was because the fantasy behind the murders relied on your acceptance of the man. Still unsure of his intentions with you, you shuddered at the thought of letting the man do whatever he wanted.

"I'm taking care of you."

The vagueness of the answer, and the emptiness in his tone, as he spoke sent a wave of fear over you. The man took a step towards you, right next to the bed you were tied to. You sat up, moving away from him, by instinct. You had hardly noticed the tray Arnett had been carrying, until he placed it down on the foot of the bed. A wide assortment of fruits, breads, and foods were placed onto the tray, along with a single red rose. Taking a seat next to you, he lifted something off of the item.

"A strawberry, from my garden." He explained, as though that was the cause of your nervous behavior.

You didn’t feel hungry, but felt a sense of relief at the act. Only because that meant he didn’t plan on harming you…yet. Once more, he placed the strawberry up to your lips.

Arnett's jaw tensed, as he spoke again. This time he sounded as though he were trying to restrain himself. "You don't need to be afraid of me."

Afraid to anger him, you took a bite, before attempting to distance yourself from him further, if that were even possible at this point. He praised you for the action, as an owner would praise a pet. Bitterness rose from your chest, creating a bad taste in your mouth. Whether it was the fruit he gave you, or the reaction you had to his words, you weren't sure.

"See, I knew you'd be good," He spoke, condescendingly. "just like my Lily."

You swallowed back a grimace. "Lily?"

Arnett blinked, as if confused for a moment, before giving a forced chuckle. His eyes turned to the portrait in the room, of the young woman. "I must apologize, it's rather rude of me to compare you to my wife- ex-wife. "

He quickly corrected himself, before looking back at you, his eyes falling to your wrists. More specifically, the red burns on them, from your previous attempts at escape. He reached out, without warning, before scolding you profusely. He spoke only about how should be more careful, as to not harm yourself further. In your upset state, you didn't even think before instinctively ripping your hands from his hold, not wanting him to so much as touch you.

Arnett's almost-caring expression fell in an instant, before revealing an angered scowl. He grabbed your arms again, only now his grip was harsh and painful. There was no doubt in your mind that you would have bruises later.

"Don't do that." He hissed. "Don't you ever do that!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, shaking as you quickly apologized in an attempt to calm his sudden temper. Blinking, you searched for any excuse that might help you. "I'm sorry.. I.. It's inappropriate, I wasn't expecting you to.."

Once more, you cursed yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse. However, even as you closed your eyes, you felt the grip on your hand lose its hold. When you looked back at Arnett, his scowl had disappeared. He thought for a moment, before a slight smile crept over his lips.

"You don't need to worry about such things anymore, my dear." He sighed. "Now that you're here with me, you won't have to feign innocence for the sake of appearances. We can speak freely now."

As you stared into his eyes, you came to understand that in some twisted way, his mind had made up a lie: making him believe you held some form of silent connection with him. Twisting your interactions into subtle advances, when they had merely been polite conversations. Every small talk in the study of your home, he had taken it as a sign of reciprocated affections. Rather than what they were. And he truly believed that lie, which was what frightened you the most.

You were silent, as he ran a thumb over your injured hand. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but you viewed it more as a threat. You knew that if you pulled your hands way, as you wanted to, you'd be met with more aggression. Eventually, his focus returned to the tray he had brought in, handing you the rose as he placed another fruit to your mouth. You were fighting back a mixture of emotions, as you attempted to process the situation. You wanted to snap, and tell him that he didn't need to feed you himself. You wanted kick and fight, if only to save your pride. But you knew that none of these actions would help you, and would more likely cause Arnett to harm you.

Instead, you tried to refocus your frustrations into questioning Arnett's plan for you.

"Mr. Arnett, I..I find myself at..at a loss as to why you've brought me here." You muttered, weakly. "Surely, it's not simply to 'speak freely', as you put it? I can't help but think there is another reason.."

The older man scoffed, as if surprised you even had to ask.

"Well, I've been left with no other choice, haven't I? You're forced to spend every day and night fretting over the little problems of a half-crazed alienist, who insists on keeping you by his side." He grit his teeth, looking  around the room for a moment. "But that no longer matters. You won’t need to worry anymore about Kreizler taking his liberties with you, my dear."

The bruising grasp on your hand returned. His voice and expression reflected anger, though it didn't seem directed at you this time. His eyes were still staring off at nothing in particular, and it seemed as though he wasn't even aware of the venom in his tone. Ignoring your pain for a moment, you feared what he meant, upon mentioning Laszlo. Was he merely speaking his suspicions out of a jealous delusion? Or had he known- had he seen- your actions with Laszlo at the opera last night?

You let out another pained gasp, causing Arnett to release his hold on you. This time, he stood up, staring down at you with regret and fear. Almost dejectedly, he grabbed the tray once more, and made his way back towards the wooden door. But not without looking back at the portrait once more.

"Lily was as delicate as you."

A time passed before the door opened again.

You had fought to stay awake, in order to try and defend yourself against Arnett, even though you were essentially at his mercy. But the reality was that you were exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. The stress of the case, Laszlo, and your own current situation had left you utterly broken. As sleep came for you, your eyes fogged with tears, as you thought back to the happiness you felt just a night before.

When you finally awoke, you heard a loud thud, as though something had fallen somewhere in the building you were being kept in. Your heart pounded, half hopeful and half afraid. The wooden door to the dim room opened, your heart sinking as you faced Arnett once more, his face red with anger as he began yelling out, seething with every breath.

"He comes to my place of work, accusing me!"

Arnett raves, red in the face, as he circles around the room. His sentences slur together, his words coming out faster than you can understand them. You sit up quickly, bracing yourself, as it's all you can do in the moment. The man's eyes were wide and his gaze flicked from place to place, as if searching for something as he continued to ramble on. You noticed how his hands were clenched, his fingernails digging into his palms and his knuckles becoming a white color. Fearing what he may do, you kept your mouth shut, hoping in vain that he might forget that you're there.

"-Slandering my name and reputation!” He heaved out a heavy breath, before his stare finally finds its destination on you.

Whatever pleasant facade the man placed on for you before was gone now, overcome by his anger. He rushed forwards, pushing you back against the headboard of the bed, placing a hand on your face, pressing hard on your cheeks and jaw. Startled, you froze, unable to even move, except for the trembling throughout your body.

"Who is he to you?" He demanded, an accusatory glare cutting through you.

You choked out a reply, asking who or what he was talking about. That only made his grip stronger, squeezing against your bones enough to make them ache.

“That damned Kreizler!” He spat. “Is he truly so dependent on you, that he cannot go a single day without you?! Is your company so enjoyable that he cannot help himself?”

Arnett’s words were spiteful and insulting. Not only towards Laszlo, but yourself as well. It seemed that while Arnett did not seem to know the extent of your relationship to the alienist, the suspicion was enough to drive him over the edge. You only feared what would happen, should he learn what occurred at the opera. As your mind raced with your thoughts, you hadn't noticed how your captor now moved over you, trapping you under him. His spare hand trailed over you, his glare burning holes into you as he grabbed at your form. Your mind went blank, and all you could hear was the heartbeat that now pulsed in your ears. You twisted and turned, biting into your cheek as your body moved on its own, trying to do anything to get him off of you. A quick slap stunned you, causing you to recoil from the force.

Still, Arnett seemed lost to his ramblings. “He claims himself a gentleman! Tell me, do you enjoy the attention he gives you? Perhaps I’ve been mistreating you, perhaps you enjoy the way he takes advantage of you-“

Mistreatment was an understatement, but you dared not speak your mind in this moment. The feeling of his spare hand pushing a trail up your leg sent a wave of disgust and fear through you. Desperately, you spoke, saying anything that came to mind, hoping to calm the clearly unhinged man.

“No, no Mr. Arnett, please!”

You cried, gasping as your throat seemed to close off on its own.

“You’re- you’re right! He’s- He’s not a gentlemen, not like you. Louis-“

You barely registered what you were saying, only focusing on pleading for your life. You continued, speaking whatever you thought the man would want to hear. As soon as they left your mouth, you hated every lie you spoke about Laszlo. How you were catering to Mr. Arnett’s sick fantasy. It seemed to work, however, as the man paused his assault on you. His grip on your chin lifted your gaze up to him, making you stare through tears to look him in the eye.

Your voice shook as you spoke, going on and on about how you were being mistreated and how Arnett was a gentlemen, as much as it pained you to do so. You empathized the phrase, hoping it might somehow make him stop. His actions were abhorrent, yet he seemed to pride himself on being the gentleman he had tricked you into believing he was. You played into Arnett's fantasy, making yourself appear as some damsel in need of saving and that Arnett was the man who would do it. All you could do was hope your words satisfied him.

His hand released its hold on your leg, but you did not allow yourself to sigh in relief. The hold on your chin disappeared, as he gently placed his palm against your cheek. A soft smile met his lips, yet his eyes remained vacant and cold. His voice was distant once more, as if remembering something.

“You truly are just like my Lily.” He pressed his lips against you, holding you there. You didn’t move. When he finally parted, he gave a reassuring smile, something meant to comfort you, before saying: “He won’t mistreat you anymore, my dear. I’ll make sure of it.”

The older man stood up, smoothing a hand over his suit, before turning from you. Your heart sank at his words, leaving you in despair even as he left the room. Pulling your legs up to your chest, you cried into the wrinkled fabric of your dress, muffling the sound in order to keep Arnett from hearing you.

It felt like years, as another day passed. Your heart ached along with your shoulders and wrists, as you stared blankly at the wooden door. There were moments when you asked yourself if this barren room would be the last thing you saw. If the painted, empty eyes of Lily Arnett would be staring down at you, as you joined her in death. But there was hope.

Arnett’s outburst had been sudden and terrifying. But in his state, he’d given you the knowledge that Laszlo and the others were close, already questioning the man. Already suspecting the truth. You just needed to keep him satisfied, until your friends could figure out how to find you. If they found you.

When the wooden door opened once more, Arnett was bringing in another tray of food and water for you. As he came into the light of the lamp, your attention was drawn to the cut along the man's temple. Given your situation, this shouldn't have surprised you, but in all the time you've known the man you’d never seen the man with even a scratch on him, despite the violent attacks he had carried out. Before your abduction, you knew the man to be of good standing in the eyes of society. Someone obsessed with his reputation as a proper gentleman. Someone who’d never be caught up in a fight, not one that would cause such a wound.

You ask what happened, less out of concern and more out of curiosity, desperately wanting to learn what you could about the events playing out in the world outside of the small room. Your words seemed to fall on deaf ears however, as Arnett silently approached, not answering you. Instead, he lifted the food for you to eat. Slowly, you took a bite, not wanting to upset him further. After finishing the bits fruit and bread he initially offered, you found yourself growing more and more restless, due to his unsettling silence. As he lifted another fruit to you, you turned your head slowly, until eventually you found yourself looking up at the woman in the portrait.

Twice now he had mentioned his late wife…Lily. Some deep-rooted part of you felt as though her death had not been some random accident or illness, given how Arnett had consistently been comparing the two of you. No… By now, you suspected that perhaps the poor woman had shared your fate, falling victim to her husband's erratic behavior.

You opened your mouth, your throat dry as you carefully said: “I…I realize I never asked about your wife, before. If it is not too upsetting, tell me, how… how did she pass?”

Arnett blinked, as if snapped from his silence. A vacant expression crossed over his face, sending a frightening chill through you. It was identical to the one Laszlo had at the morgue, as the alienist was trying to gain insight into the killer’s mind. You had trusted Laszlo, but it was different now. Now you looked that very killer in the eye.

“I believe I told you. She was delicate." He paused, staring you down, before glancing away quickly. "Now eat.”

A horrible pit in your stomach grew, as your mind raced to create images of what you suspected befell the late Mrs. Arnett.  If his lack of hesitation of using force against you was any indication…It was slowly becoming evident that perhaps she may have been the first. The catalyst that created the man you faced now. You swallow back the lump in your throat, speechless. In your shock, you had forgotten what Arnett had ordered you to do. It was too late to fix your mistake, as the man quickly took your silence as refusal. In an instant, the tray was shoved aside, slammed to the floor, as his form climbed over you.

"You ungrateful bitch!" His hands clamped down on your throat, using a strength that felt as though it would snap your life away at any second. You hands pulled down on the ropes, having enough length to allow you to claw at his grasp. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me?"

You struggled for breath, your heartbeat becoming the only sound in your ears before a slam at the door snapped you from your panicked state. A voice- no, voices- spoke loudly. You didn’t process what was said, only that the weight of Arnett shifted. You found yourself placed between Arnett and the unknown parties, a sharp pressure against your neck. As you gathered your senses, you realized the pressure was a knife, one Arnett had kept hidden away. You weren't sure if he had it before, or if he had planned to use it against you before being interrupted.

John and Sara stood before you, the woman aiming a gun towards Arnett. Though, with you placed in between them, the weapon was also directed towards you. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. If you weren’t so focused on the knife’s weight against you, your heart surely would have leapt with happiness. They had found you! But the confrontation was not over.

"You have no right, breaking in here!” Arnett seethed. “I’ll have you arrested!”

Sara was quick to respond, not even flinching from his words. “Call them if you like, but I doubt the police would be interested with us, upon finding a woman unwillingly locked up on your property.”

Arnett shook his head, his breath coming out in heavy exhales. His voice was shaking. Out of anger, fear, and confusion. “No, you’re wrong! She..she wants to be here! Tell them!”

The knife pressed harder against you, as Arnett whispered unintelligible words against your ear. You gasped, closing your eyes, as if everything would disappear if you didn't watch. Another sound of footsteps grabbed your attention, forcing you to look up once more. A third figure emerged through the door, joining John and Sara. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, upon seeing the tense stand-off between them and Arnett. With you at the center.

“Laszlo!” You called, the name falling from your mouth before you could stop it.

A vice grip found the back of your neck, making you gasp in pain. His whisper was erratic but you could just make out: "How dare you say his name in front of me-"

The knife pressed harder, a small sting followed by a warm trickling feeling. His cheek pressed against your ear, speaking lowly. “Tell them you want to be here. With me.”Another pause of silence made him seethe. "Answer me, Lily!”

Arnett’s grip on reality, whatever remained, was slipping as the scene played out before you. Still, you refused. Laszlo was here, They were all here! You were so close to freedom that you couldn't bare the thought of him taking it away. Tears reached your eyes, as you glanced at the faces you've grown to know.

“There’s no where to go, Mr. Arnett.” Sara said, regaining your attention. She looked back at you, rather than your captor. She looked unsure, as she aimed her gun toward the two of you, in contrast to her confident words. “If you truly care for her, as I suspect you do, then let her go.”

“No, nonono..” Arnett’s breaths became erratic. “She belongs with me! Tell them, my dear, now.”

Still you remain silent, biting back a cry.

Arnett snapped, cursing you, as the knife lifted for a moment, before turning fully towards you, intended to pierce your throat. In that split moment, you heard the loud blast of gunfire, followed by the metallic smell of gunpowder. A ringing overtook your senses, followed closely by a burning in your shoulder.

Then...

thud

thud

thud

Your heartbeat signaled to you that you were alive, but you couldn't help yourself but think it was a trick. One last cruel joke for the entertainment of a higher power.

Your mind and vision seemed to blur, as each passing moment came by in flashes. You no longer felt Arnetts breath against your ear, yet the intense pain in your shoulder remained. You felt a pair of arms reach around you, as the restraining pull of ropes on your wrists disappeared. The cool breeze of air hit your face at some point, before the rest faded away to darkness.

[mysoftboybensolo]

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 13: The Holidays

A/N: This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, Victorian Christmas, mentions of past abuse, but much fluff! I had done my research on what Christmas was like back then, as well as the Hanukah dates and it seems 1897 was a big year; “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” was published in September of 1897, electric Christmas lights were growing in popularity and the unification of the boroughs in New York was official on New Years. And there is your history lesson of the day.

The air grew colder as Laszlo and Evelina’s relationship grew warmer. Evelina was spending more time with the team, just as Laszlo was becoming more and more acquainted with Evelina’s opera friends. Compared, they were a more rambunctious group, and she knew that Laszlo had his limits, but admired him for trying so hard. Maria often helped Laszlo along when Evelina was not by his side and he felt immensely grateful to her for guiding him through the corral. At first, her opera friends hadn’t been sure of Laszlo, unsure of this man who makes a living in psychoanalyzing people, who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere, but they always caught the spark of joy in his eyes when Evelina came beside him, the way he tried so hard for her. Even if he couldn’t keep up with them, they still saw the utter devotion between the pair and that was enough for them to approve the relationship.

It was a time for the singers to rest themselves for The Nutcracker to be performed, and a real treat for them all. It had done so well last Christmas that the opera house had decided to do it again, and who knows, perhaps it will become a Christmas tradition.

As November closed in, Evelina had been helping Sara scout out locations for her new agency, hoping that she’ll find it before the weather turned too cold to be out scouting. As they looked around a space, Evelina asked Sara a few questions. “What will you require of your workers to do?”

“Just as any other detective agency will have, secretaries, detectives. Roosevelt has agreed to let the officers help us whenever we need it, which must mean he bears no ill will towards my leaving. Hmm, no, too small. I need at least four rooms; this will not do.” They stepped out into the cool air, leaving them both to shiver. “Winter certainly is coming, there is no doubt.”

“Yes, that shall mean Christmas!” Evelina replied excitedly. “It’s my favorite time of year. Everything looks so magical with the snow and the good cheer, and of course the music.”

“Well, then you might convince Laszlo to have a party this year. He doesn’t celebrate it, at least, from what I have known of him. I wonder if it comes from an unhappy memory,” Sara mused.

“Then I shall make it my duty to give him a Christmas full of happiness. The opera will be performing The Nutcracker, perhaps I will invite him to a performance then have a party. It’ll only be a small affair, you, John, and the Isaacson Brothers.”

Sara looked at her strangely then asked, “You are aware that they are Jewish, don’t you?”

“I am more than aware, in fact, I know that it starts on the nineteenth of December and ends on the twenty-seventh. And it doesn’t have to necessarily be a Christmas party, but a holiday party. A celebration of simply being together and friends. Surely, Laszlo couldn’t object to that.”

Wrapping her arm around Evelina’s, Sara couldn’t help but to smile. “Not when you put it that way, he wouldn’t.”

Laszlo visited just shortly after the ladies returned home, feeling too frozen to go any further. “And how has the property hunting been going for you?”

Sara groaned, “Don’t mention it. It feels as if I am never going to find the perfect place. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get myself a good stiff drink,” she huffed as she went off to the kitchen, leaving Evelina and Laszlo alone in the den.”

Now was the perfect time for her to ask the question. “Laszlo, Christmas is coming soon, and I was wondering what it is that you do for the holidays?”

“Well, Christmas Eve, I spend it with the children who are left behind at the institute, watch them open their gifts in the morning then return home for a quiet day in.”

“Oh, Laszlo,” she said, “I love that you take care of your children, but what about yourself? Doesn’t it get to be a bit lonely?”

He pursed his lips in thought then said, “Well, yes, I suppose, but it was better than what I used to have when I was younger. Those were the better days. We hosted a fine Christmas party, my father was at his best and my mother wore her finest, and the house looked like a picture book. But” he said, with matter-of-fact tone, “When the party was over, it wasn’t so picturesque.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she softly affirmed.

“No, I want to, and we promised, no secrets.” It was true, after the absolute confusion that came from not sharing their feelings and the disaster that followed, they had agreed that nothing would be held back. “Santa was not something told in my household, but rather the fear of God. He’d make me read the bible which involved the birth of Christ, but any little flaw, hesitation or stutter and he’d beat me while calling me a blasphemer for ruining the scripture.”

She wanted to ask how that was better than the usual days, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. “My mum died just a week before Christmas, and to celebrate it without her was awful. Winston was not manageable during those times,” she paused after the mention of her brother, and Laszlo saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “When he was locked up, that first Christmas, my father broke down, he felt he had broken his promise to my mother in keeping the family together. Even though I told him that he was not to blame for Winston’s actions, every year after, I could see the echo of pain in his eyes. This will be my first Christmas without any of them.”

Laszlo lifted his hand, unsure if he ought to reach out and comfort her, and knowing that she’d not only appreciate it, but that he’d have to get used being open with another, he placed a hand on top of hers, which rested on her lap. It was the right move to do, as it had made her smile and lean in to rest her head against his shoulder. Laszlo felt a small surge of pride in himself, he was doing better in showing intimacy and he liked it.

Having a party to plan helped to fill Evelina’s free time from the opera, but most importantly, it allowed her the chance to make a surprise for Laszlo. Thanks to her covert cleverness, she found out which children will be spending Christmas at the institute and with the permission of the staff, she managed to pull them together to work on a surprise for him. They nearly got caught once, Laszlo came back from a meeting a bit sooner than Evelina expected, but she managed to play it off well, saying that she had been bored and wanted to play the piano for the children.

Stevie proved to be rather helpful in preparing Christmas at Laszlo’s home and was more than happy to be commissioned by Evelina to help with the planning. He scoured out the best decorations and the best tree to have standing in Laszlo’s den, and when he was finished with it, even he could admit he did a rather fine job. There was one thing that Laszlo had a hand in the decorations, and it was the purchase of these new electric string lights, meant to replace candles, and it was a smart choice, and in Evelina’s words, magical. As Stevie was busy with the decorations, Evelina was off to work with the invites and the Isaacson Brothers were surprised to say the least but were still very pleased to be invited to such a party, knowing how much it meant to her. Sara had been the first unofficial guest invited and John most certainly was not one to pass up a party.

Christmas Eve arrived and Evelina dressed herself in her green and red velvet walking gown, truly getting into the spirit and went to the institute to see Laszlo. Many of the parents came to take their children home for the holidays and as much as it was a wonderful sight to see parents not forsake their little ones, it was doubly heartbreaking to see those few whose parents never came. It was Laszlo and Evelina’s special mission to make sure that they still received the experience that they would have had if they were home, even carrying on the duty of decorating the tree and great hall for the children to enjoy. Most of the staff could go home to spend it with their family, but there were a few who did not have a family of their own who stayed and happily joined in the festivities with the children.

Daylight had gone when was a surprise waiting at the front door, and who would have guessed that Santa would come and see the children of the Kreizler Institute? Watching John all dressed up as Santa was a delight, especially when the younger children climbed on his lap and gave “Santa” a hug and wished him a Merry Christmas. It didn’t take much convincing, for John thought it a wonderful idea and he could not say no to Evelina’s sweet intentions, even if it made him look a bit silly. Sara was the unofficial Mrs. Claus, dressed in her lovely green evening gown and many of the children loved going up to her and asking questions of the North Pole, truly convinced that she was indeed the wife of Santa. She watched John take in the children’s excitement with great stride and enjoyment and thought it the finest thing she had ever seen, and her heart swelled at the thought of him doing this for the children.

When John and Sara left, it was time to show off Evelina’s surprise. Gathering the children up, she sat at the piano and began to play. Laszlo watched with wonder and love as Evelina led the children in a most heavenly rendition of Ding Dong Merrily On High, the children looked so happy to be a part of something. He wasn’t even bothered by the religious overtones of the song; he just enjoyed the sweet voices that sang in perfect harmony and was touched to see that his love put so much effort into surprising him.

Soon, it got to be bedtime and the children were escorted back their rooms, eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival and the staff to their rooms. Usually, Laszlo was the only one to take up the duty of stuffing the stockings and providing the children with gift, making sure each one got an equal amount from Santa. Evelina stayed with him and happily helped to stuff the stockings, despite her own sleepiness. It was an endearing sight, the pair of them on the floor, helping to stuff stockings and wrap presents.

“How long have you done this?”

“Ever since the institute was opened. It was quite sad to see those children left behind to have nothing, so I made sure to carry on the tradition of Santa. You may think that I do not agree with the idea of telling fantastical stories to children, but I think it is important in the development of a child. It stimulates their creativity as well as teaches them lessons.”

Evelina smiled and started with, “Don’t laugh, but I still believe in Santa. Oh, I don’t mean that there is an actual person who goes about in a flying sleigh and gives presents to all children around the world, but the idea of him. Do you remember back in September there was that article answering a little girl’s question of if there was a Santa? That article was a wonderful summation of how I feel about Santa. How there is someone who can be full of good cheer and selflessness and the possibility that we could be just like him. Like this, right now. The fact that you go out of your way to make sure these children have a merry Christmas, to never make them feel left out, it is very Kris Kringle of you. And I am sure you’d look dashing in red.” His deep blush only proved her right.

It was nearing midnight when they had finished and left the institute and despite the chill, they walked through the snowy streets, enjoying the calm and winter beauty. “I am sorry if this wasn’t what you had imagined you’d spend your Christmas Eve.”

“Indeed, it was far better than I could hope. To help give children a good time, to create magic and now walking home with you, it is wonderful.” The church bells tolled, and they stopped to listen to the lovely knells as it chimed Christmas day. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

Laszlo smiled, knowing that she gave him at last an endearment. “Frohe Weihnachten, meine liebe.”

Laszlo came to pick up Evelina early on Christmas day so she could be at the institute before the children woke and watch with Laszlo as they opened their gifts from Santa as well as from Laszlo himself. She loved the glimmer in his eyes when looking at the children enjoying themselves, forgetting their woes and problems, glad to see that they would have a normal childhood that he never had. Once he was sure that the children were taken care of, the pair went off to enjoy Christmas themselves. It had been purely coincidental, but Laszlo wore his dashing green vest and tie while Evelina wore her lovely red satin dress, looking as if they had coordinated with the holiday and each other, anyone who didn’t know them would have been certain they were husband and wife.

The party was beginning at noon, giving time to everyone that was coming to enjoy their morning and get ready to spend it together. Sara had been the first to arrive, no surprise, the Isaacson Brothers came, Marcus brought along his dear Esther and her daughter, and then John. Laszlo had almost thought that all the guest had arrived, when Stevie entered and said, “We’ve got two more guests!”

Laszlo looked perplexed, for who else could come, and Evelina watched in amusement as his mouth fell agape as Cyrus walked in with his niece, Joanna, looking rather fine in their Sunday best. Laszlo jumped up from his seat and went to his old employee and friend. “Cyrus! How are you? I didn’t know you were coming.”

“No, but Miss Lind did. Stevie brought Miss Lind to my work and she had personally invited me to the party, as well as Joanna. It was wonderful of her to come to me personally.”

Evelina stood and warmly greeted Cyrus and Joanna. “I am so glad you came. Laszlo told me so much of you and I just had to properly get to know his dear friend.”

“And I am honored to know the woman who could convince him to throw such a party,” Cyrus laughed heartily.

Evelina had been a wonderful hostess, making sure everyone had been attended to, even making sure Stevie felt welcomed in the celebrations and had helped Lucius feel a bit more at ease with the help of Joanna, of which the pair seemed quite intrigued by each other. Laszlo watched in wonder of how she could manage to move around with grace, kindness and energy when he still had difficulty to be as open to those of whom he feels are his friends. He admired her and was honored to be the man of whom she loved above others.

The afternoon was spent playing games, Blind Man’s Bluff, Yes and No, and Charades. Laszlo had sat out of Blind Man’s Bluff, but allowed himself to be dragged into Charades and Yes and No. He was afraid of appearing to look ridiculous, but Evelina argued that everyone was doing the same, so they all looked the same amount of ridiculousness. The luncheon was informal, people made their own plates and sat around Laszlo’s den, like they all were old friends, and it was a kind of homey feeling that Laszlo had never felt before, it was warm, safe, good.

It would not be a good party without a mistletoe, at least according to John, who hung it over his friend’s head and teased that someone ought to kiss him or else he will. Evelina more than happily rose to the challenge, making it the second kiss that the pair had shared. She challenged John to hang it over his head and get a kiss, or else he’ll have to kiss the lizard at the institute, and just as she hoped, Sara decided to help him out by placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, but he turned on accident and the pair had kissed on the lips. The blush on their faces told so much and Evelina buried her face in Laszlo’s chest to try and stop her smile from being noticed, but she spotted something beyond him. Moving towards it, she couldn’t help but to admire the beautiful piano. Laszlo came up beside her and said, “You may play on it whenever you wish. It’ll be nice to see that old thing getting some use. I haven’t played in so long.”

“You played?” She had never known that Laszlo used to play, at least before the incident.

“Yes. I was quite good.”

“Better than good,” Sara interjected, coming in the conversation, hoping to escape her situation. “His name was in all the papers; he could have been a great pianist.”

“Why don’t we do gifts?” Evelina suggested, hoping to prevent Laszlo from falling into his darker thoughts, and she excitedly handed out her gifts. They weren’t expensive gifts, but they were heartfelt and personal to each, and that meant more than anything in the world, even Stevie, who hadn’t expected to get a gift and didn’t usually like to be sentimental, but even he couldn’t refuse the copy of An Anarchic Adventure by Jules Verne, his favorite author. Laszlo had received a copy of The Psychology of Emotions by Théodule-Armand Ribot, of whom Laszlo had been fascinated with.

Laszlo made himself go last, giving everyone incredible gifts; Stevie getting his very first shaving kit as he was now a young man, Esther and her daughter fine new dresses, to name a few, and lastly went to Evelina, giving her a box. When she opened it, it was a beautiful toiletry box, made of a dark wood and lined with pink velvet. Opening one of the drawers, she noticed two large and full bottles of her perfume, ‘Fantasia de Fleurs’. “Oh, Laszlo! This is too much! And on top of that, two bottles of my perfume?”

“It is not too much,” he countered, “And besides, it is for selfish reasons too, for I love your scent, perhaps a bit too much,” he admits with a blush across his cheeks. “No one else should buy this for you but myself.”

It was true; when she did first receive this, it was meant to be a bribe gift from one of the patrons at the opera, but she loved the scent too much to toss it away. To have Laszlo buy it for her not only was sweet, but intimate, and she liked that he felt way, wanting no other to buy her perfumes. Sara had been the one to inform which perfume it was and told Laszlo that she had mentioned about getting a box of her own, and he made sure to get the finest box with the two largest bottles so she wouldn’t have to.

The Isaacson Brothers had left with their guests and just before everyone was to go off on their own, Evelina made sure to have a few carols played and sung. John and Sara had quite nice voices which blended very well together, Cyrus deep and warm, and Joanna and Stevie wholeheartedly sang. Laszlo’s voice was not deep or powerful, but it was soft and comforting, and it sounded wonderful to hear him sing Silent Night in German, a request that Evelina had asked, and he did only for her. When he sang, all stopped and listened, and all Laszlo could see or know was Evelina, playing the piano, with a grace and power that reminded him of his youth. Instead of painful memories, it made him smile and happy.

Cyrus and his niece left to have dinner with their family, John to his grandmother’s, leaving Sara and Stevie to join Evelina and Laszlo to the opera for The Nutcracker. This had been Stevie’s first time to the opera and the wonder in his eyes was so enduring and how he watched as the story enfolded before his eyes. In the dark of the auditorium, Evelina had reached her hand over to Laszlo’s, and held it. He looked over at her and wordlessly, he thanked her for a wonderful Christmas.

The good cheer from Christmas continued to carry on for the next few days as New Year’s was approaching and for good reason. The New York government had made the decision to unite the five boroughs of the city to create what would be nicknamed “Greater New York” and it was a wonderful reason to celebrate.

It was a momentous occasion, one that Evelina wished to see and thanks to Laszlo’s influence, they managed to watch it all happen close by and safe away from the mad crowd and the pouring rain. As the New Year rang, everyone watched in wonder as fireworks blasted in the sky, cannons fired, steamboats blowing their horns and brass bands played their hearts out, for when the new year rang, the new flag had unfurled over city proclaiming it’s celebration, the birth of the City of New York.

“Oh, darling,” Evelina gasped, “Just think, we are lucky to have seen this happen. To see a city come together as one, it’s beautiful!”

Laszlo wrapped his arms around Evelina’s waist and placed his head in the crook of her neck as they watched the city celebrate outside, “1898 shall be a happy year. I am sure of it.” She turned her head and shared their third kiss but first kiss of their new year and turned back to watch the merriment.

It then struck him right then and there, something that he thought would never be possible, something he’d never have, and yet it was here in his arms, and he would not let it go so easily. Now, it was just the matter of asking the question.

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl​ @cazzyimagines​, @scuttle-buttle​, @violetmuses​ @flutterskies​ @sokoviandelights​ @rumblelibrary​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @somethingthatsaysbubbles​ @alindeluce​  and @barnesxnobles

[devious-little-milkmaiden]

Hey, everybody! Here's my unwarranted review on The Alienist by Caleb Carr!

There are three things I love:

1. Books. (How quirky.)

2. True Crime.

3. The Victorian Era. Like, an unnecessary amount.

Like a glowing creature sitting comfortably underneath an oak tree waiting to give a young warrior their next quest, I happened upon a copy of The Alienist in a bookstore in a nearby town. I had just finished reading my last novel, and didn't want to spend the rest of my stay in the town sitting mindlessly like my great-grandmother's (probably haunted) porcelain dolls in my room! What an aesthetically pleasing simile.

It was only fate that I'd pick up the book, read the back, flip through a couple of pages, and take it with me (with paying, of course). It was written by military and diplomatic historian Caleb Carr, and was published in 1994. I'd heard of it previously due to the TNT series based off of the book.

Here's a quick explanation of the plot:

The story is told from the first-person POV of police journalist John Schuyler (Schuyler? My sister :3) Moore in the 1890's, who is invited to join a secret task force formed by close friend and alienist/criminal psychologist Laszlo Kriezler, as per the request of then NYC police commissioner Theodore Roosevelt. The task force consists of Moore, Kriezler, Detective Sergeant Marcus Isaacson, his brother Detective Sergeant Lucius Isaacson, and NYC police secretary/close friend to both Moore and Kreizler Sara Howard, who is trying to rip a hole through the all-male police force in New York City. The task force is designed to profile and ultimately apprehend a serial killer who has been targeting young cross-dressing male sex workers. That's all I can give away without any spoilers.

My review of this book:

This book is an absolute delight to read, despite the dark backdrop it is set on. It has a wide range of diverse and interesting characters, including flamboyant, coke-addicted gangster Paul Kelly, trusty carriage driver Cyrus Montrose, and strong-willed and independent Sara Howard (she's my favorite character :)). Caleb Carr writes with understandable and efficient intensity, with a few lines of humor dappled here and there, including one of my favorite sentences from the book, "Ellison had to pause as the mass of cells that, in his case, passed for a brain mulled this over." (p. 112) so SASSY, I love it. Parts like these make the book manageable when diving into less attractive topics, such as gruesome murders and treacherous serial killers. The trusty task force uses clever psychology and criminal profiling to track down a dangerous character, facing dangerous gangsters, angry mobs, and god-like government and church higher-ups that would like nothing more than to keep the slums at their status quo of murder and torment.

I found myself reading this book almost constantly, unable to turn away from the action-packed and cleverly written pages, with their intricate details and flourishing description of 1890's New York, and the monsters that stalked within.

Book Rating: 8.5/10

[lia-writes]

& juliet was the sun

pairing: marcus isaacson x reader 

request: where lucius comes and visits his niece for the first time. 

a/n: i have next to no motherly instincts and this is making me sob. i think this is my favourite thing i’ve ever written, i’m so emotional.

;

With Marcus so invested in assisting with the investigation, you’d been spending most of your days by his side when he was at the Kreizler Institute. When you’d gone into labour early, Laszlo kindly offered one of the private bedrooms on the upper floor.

Now, you’re dozing, with your baby girl lying tucked against your chest and your midwife, Anna seated in the chair next to the bed.

It’s mid-afternoon when Marcus appears again, having been pulled away for a bite of lunch by his brother. His expression immediately softens upon setting his eyes on you and his daughter.

Anna stands, says a quiet goodbye and ducks out of the room, taking a couple of empty plates with her.

Leaving you with your daughter and your husband.

You’ve never been so happy in your entire life. You can’t think of any moment that would be able to make you happier.

This is everything you’ve ever wanted.

Marcus moves closer to take Anna’s seat, and then after a moment, rethinks and takes a seat next to you on the bed. His arm immediately settling around you, and your head resting against his shoulder.

“I love you so much - both of my girls,” he says into the top of your head and you smile.

“She’s perfect,” you agree, “Juliet,” you murmur and feel his arm tighten around you.

“Romeo and Juliet, huh.” He gives a light chuckle, and you nod. The two of you had come up with a few names and Juliet was the one your mind kept circling back to.

“Yeah, I think it suits her.” As if she knew you were talking about her, the sleeping baby begins to stir.

Marcus’ eyes light up, even more and he sits up a little, “can I?” he asks softly, and you grin.

“I’ll let you steal her away for a moment,” He kisses the top of your head before taking her from you gently and she looks absolutely tiny in the safety of his arms.

You curl on your side to watch father and daughter, adoration covering your features.

“I feel like I’ve known her for years already. Is that weird?” He glances at you, and the way she stares up at him, almost makes you cry.

“Not at all,” you manage eventually, and he begins rocking her gently.

“She’s perfect,” he repeats your earlier words, and you think back to that morning, when he’d been able to hold his daughter for the first time and how he’d been so happy and in love that he’d cried.

Now, you feel tears welling in your eyes as you watch the two of them.  

“Hey now love, don’t you cry, or you’re gonna’ make me cry again too.” He whispers, Juliet seemingly falling back asleep.

“I just love you so much.” You say in a breath and he leans back against the headboard, holding his daughter carefully, and you up against his side.

He can hardly breathe. For once, the amount of love within him leaves no room for anything else.

It’s an intoxicating feeling. For the both of you.

You stay that way for a long while, you doze in and out of sleep, tucked in against Marcus, and Juliet settled, peacefully in his arms.

There’s a light knock on the frame of the open door that has you both glancing up to see Lucius, who holds his hat nervously in both hands.

“Lucius, come in!” Marcus calls his younger brother in, and you find yourself slowly waking up.

“I thought I’d better come up and meet her.” He moves into the room, and straight over to Marcus’ side of the bed, desperate for a first look at his niece.

With Juliet also beginning to wake, he holds a finger out for her tiny hand to grab. “She’s beautiful,” he tells the two of you, “like her Mama.”

Again, you feel more hot tears well in your eyes and Marcus leans over, to wipe a few away with his thumb.

He smiles proudly, looking between the three of you before his eyebrows raise at Lucius. “Do you want to hold her?” He asks and you both grin knowingly at his anxious expression.

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “I would love to,” he answers eventually, placing his hat and jacket down before letting Marcus place her in his arms.

He sits down carefully in the chair next to the bed, looking slightly more relaxed as Juliet stares up at him.

“You’re a natural,” you encourage, and Marcus kisses your forehead again.

He smiles up at you from where he’s rocking her gently back and forth in his arms.

“Did you decide on a name yet?” he doesn’t look up as he asks, and you catch Marcus’ eye.

“Juliet,” a natural fit, the name sounds so much like home when he says it.

“Romeo and Juliet?” He guesses, and you both nod.

“Mama can’t wait to meet her,” he tells you, “do you think you’ll go home tomorrow?”

“Hopefully,” the two of you speak at once.

You become a little more reserved, mainly lost in thought about what your own Mother would have to say about meeting her Grandchild, has she still been around. You hope your Father manages to tear himself away from his work to find time to visit.

Marcus gives your hand, wrapped in his, a soft squeeze.

“she’ll have you wrapped around her finger before you know it, Lucius.” He laughs and you shake your head, thumb rubbing circles against the back of his hand.

“I think she already has. I mean, look at the two of them.”

Lucius simply smiles in return.

The sun’s begun its descent behind the surrounding buildings when Anna comes back in, busying herself with lighting candles and drawing the curtains before pouring you a fresh glass of water.

She glances, pointedly between the two brothers. “They will both be needing to get some rest, gentlemen.”

Lucius carefully places Juliet in Marcus’ arms and moves over to your bedside to give you a gentle peck on the cheek.

“Come and visit us again soon,” you say softly, and he nods with a half-grin.

“Oh, I definitely will.” He pulls his jacket on and places a hand on Marcus’ shoulder, “Congratulations again you two, she’s beautiful.”

You sniffle slightly, both exhaustion and sheer love making you emotional and teary eyed.

Lucius leaves with another long look over at the three of you, heart filled and the underlying need to have a child of his own, sitting deep within his soul.

Anna leaves the three of you in peace after your protest about Marcus leaving as well.

“I need you here,” you tell him, seriously when she heads out.

“I don’t want to leave you either, sweetheart.”

You were his stars; he was your moon and Juliet was the sun.

[fanfictionandmore]

To Kreizler's | Laszlo Kreizler [One-Shot]

Thick snowflakes were falling to the already covered ground. The snow squeaked as I walked, and the bitterly cold wind stung my face. Tears were blurring my vision. All I wanted to do was give up; collapse in the middle of the abandoned road and give up. 'It's okay. You're almost there.' I said inside of my head. It felt like an eternity as I fought against the elements to get to my destination. But eventually I did get there. I used the doorbell and waited. Thankfully I had a little protection from the wind and snow on the porch I was standing on. The door opened to reveal my best friend. "Y/n, what are you doing out at this time of night in such horrible weather?" He said as he gestured for me to come inside. I walked into the warm home, but I still felt cold. After he closed and locked the door behind me he noticed the tears in my eyes. He slowly pulled me into a tight, yet gentle hug. I nuzzled into his warm body and breathed in his comforting scent. We stayed like that for a moment before he silently lead me into the sitting room. I removed my jacket and he wrapped a soft blanket around me. The heat from the fireplace thawed my cold body as I sat there with him next to me.

Laszlo didn't even have to ask me what was wrong; he already knew, because we've been through this king of thing before. But I've never showed up to him home this late at night. I could tell that that really concerned him. "I can't stand seeing you like this. From now on you can stay here with Stevie, Cyrus, and I." He said as he gently rubbed my back with one of his hands. "Thank you, Laszlo. You've been so kind to me for a very long time. How can I ever repay you?" I said as I wiped the tears from my face. "You don't have to repay me, Y/n. You're my friend and genuinely care about your well being." He said with a soft look in his beautiful brown eyes. I gave him a side hug, squeezing him gently. He placed one of his hands in my head and started playing with my hair. I felt so safe and comfortable with him. After we broke the hug he lead me to a bedroom where I could spend the night. Unfortunately I knew I'd have to go back and get my belongings tomorrow, but at least I was safe for now. Laszlo gave me one of his nightgowns to borrow for the night. It smelled like him, which was wonderful. We said goodnight to each other before I climbed into the surprisingly warm bed. I was still a little nervous from what had happened. Although, I tomorrow was uncertain It didn't take me long to fall into a deep sleep.

I woke up to a lovely breakfast that Cyrus made for all of us. The food was delicious and so was the coffee. "I asked Marcus and Lucius to join us when we go to collect your things. I thought that if there was a police presence your father wouldn't attempt to do anything." Laszlo said as we finished eating. "I'm coming too. I might be reformed from my thieving days, but I ain't called the stevepipe for nothing." Stevie said. Laszlo gave him a concerned look but didn't say anything. I think he too figured it wouldn't hurt to bring him along. Once the horses were attached to the clash we left for my old home. 'I wonder if my father will be sitting there waiting on me.' I thought on our way. I'm sure Laszlo noticed that I was feeling a little uneasy, because he reached across to give my hand a gentle squeeze. When I glanced up at him I saw that his eyes were filled with sympathy. I gave him a small smile of appreciation. Eventually the calash started slowing down, which only made my nervousness worse. When we got out I spotted a cab stop nearby as well. Marcus and Lucius Isaacson stepped out. We said hellos and asked how we had been; introductions weren't needed, but we hadn't seen each other in a while.

"So, what's the plan?" Cyrus asked curiously. "I think it's best if we knock on the door first. If we present our badges then it's less likely for him to resort to violence." Marcus said. Everyone agreed with that idea. I didn't want to get hurt, but I really didn't want my friends to get hurt. The Isaacson brothers walked up to the front door and knocked. It took a while, but my father eventually opened the door. Marcus and Lucius introduced themselves to my father, and he got a little angry especially when he spotted me. "We can take you down to the station for what you've been doing to Y/n." Lucius threatened. After what felt like forever we were able to go inside and collect my belongings. When everything got dropped off at Laszlo's home we ended up going out to lunch. John and Sara ended up joining us as well, which was really nice. All of the jokes and stories they were telling me got me into a better mood. I was just happy that I wouldn't have to live with my father anymore. I wouldn't have to deal with all of the stuff he has put me through for years anymore. But I knew I'd still have to deal with the psychological damage and trauma he has caused me. Luckily I have an Alienist as a best friend.

++++++++++++ A/N: Thanks for reading!

[gaiapaia]

Kermit and Friends: Lucas 6:27

But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you. - Luke 6:27-36

This Bible verse is essentially the ‘Golden Rule’ we’re all taught in elementary school - treat others how you want to be treated. However, treating others kindly is very hard to do when the other person is bad to you. Perhaps the toughest part about being a Christian is the fact we’re supposed to love and pray for our enemies like Jesus would.

Elisa apparently has an enemy in Lucas, Andy Dick’s lover and ex-boyfriend. Lucas has been on the show a couple of times now but their animosity has taken place away from Kermit and Friends.

When Elisa first met Lucas, she heard a lot of good things about him from Andy and they seemed to get along fine. Unfortunately, Andy would throw fits any time Elisa and Lucas were around each other, with Andy accusing Elisa of sleeping with Lucas. Elisa would invite Andy somewhere and Andy would show up with Lucas, only then to berate Elisa later for always inviting Lucas on their dates.

Elisa could tell Lucas was in a bad spot and had some connections to get him a job interview. She set it up for him and sadly, Lucas wasn’t hired. Elisa claims this led to Lucas screaming at her at a Hookah Bar earlier this week, with Lucas blaming Elisa as to why he didn’t get the job. Elisa ended up screaming back at Lucas this time instead of just taking his abuse. Knowing Elisa like I do, it takes a LOT to get her fired up for her to get into a confrontation in public, so she definitely reached her boiling point with Lucas that night.

What’s Elisa to do at this point? The Bible tells her not to hold resentment, to stay kind, to pray for Lucas, etc. It’s very, very tough, but the best way to handle it my opinion is to avoid Lucas at all cost from this point on. Say one little prayer for his well being and then eliminate him out of your life. And if you come across him again, be cordial and just walk away if his behavior starts to bring you out of your true character. That’s my advice.

Anyway, this incident between Elisa and Lucas is where the show got its title from this week. Luke is obviously short for Lucas, and I thought it was creative the way Elisa tied the situation together. Further on in the show, Elisa would play a clip from Andy Dick’s new podcast aDICKted where Andy explained his toxic relationship with Lucas. Andy alleges that Lucas beats him, beats up all of Andy’s male lovers, has stolen from him, etc. Just because Andy says it doesn’t necessarily make it true (like when Andy says Elisa sleeps with Lucas), but if those allegations are true, Lucas is a very bad guy and I would personally prefer Elisa not to hang out with Andy anymore if Lucas is forced into the arrangement. But Elisa is a big girl and can take care of herself - I trust her to stay out of bad situations.

In better news, Elisa’s new song My Fiancé is a huge hit among the KAF fanbase. Literally everyone loved it, except for Andy that is. Regardless of Andy’s irrelevant feelings, the song is now available on Itunes, Spotify, Amazon, and anywhere else you can listen to music.

My Fiancé was such a huge hit that it got three remixes in just a week! Two were from Eric Riggs, one from Andy Dick. Eric’s first remix was him just masturbating to the video, while the second remix was Eric singing about dancing like Michael Jackson. Andy’s remix was simply Andy cursing Elisa out to the beat of the song. Andy really needs to work on his songwriting ability, his version of My Fiancé wasn’t flattering at all!

Sharmin Smith ended up being the main focus of the show this week. She opened up to Elisa about the hardships she’s faced since she decided to run for President of the United States in 2020.

According to Sharmin, she was accused of sex trafficking and orchestrating a gang rape by QAnon members she hired from LinkedIn to help her with her presidential campaign. Sharmin’s teenaged kids somehow ended up hearing about these accusations and have had little contact with Sharmin since.

Sharmin bared her soul and you could tell how grief stricken she is over this, rightfully so. Sharmin obviously loves her kids very much and it’s not just the fact that they’re forced away from her that hurts, it’s the fact that they were led to believe these horrible things about Sharmin that aren’t true.

I wish there was something I could write to make Sharmin feel better about her situation. I do admire her strength to be so honest and sincere, and I appreciate she’s so willing to share her story with the Kermit and Friends audience despite how painful it is. But Sharmin if you’re reading this... it is very important to remain patient. I know it’s hard, especially this past year when we’ve had so much downtime to just ourselves, but you will be rewarded if you sit tight and allow the truth to be revealed naturally. You can’t force anything. Let God or fate or the universe, anything you want to call it, run its course and eventually justice will prevail and the good guys will win. You’re one of the good ones, Sharmin.

One positive note from Sharmin’s explosive interview this week was her acknowledgement of how Kermit and Friends entered her life at the perfect time. Sharmin emphasized how much fun KAF has been for her and how badly she needed some fun in her life. Kermit and Friends brings a lot of joy to the people who regularly watch and participate in it, and that alone makes the show a massive success if you ask me.

If you love Kermit and Friends, you can now donate during the show to have a comment displayed on stream. Elisa monetized her Youtube last week and received some nice donations. Capt Muttley, KAF’s dashing pilot, kicked things off and then Supertramp, Kleenex, and SaiyanZ Entertainment all generously contributed too. There’s so much going on during a KAF broadcast that Elisa can’t properly acknowledge the donations each time, but I know she appreciates it, and I also appreciate anyone supporting Elisa and KAF to such a strong degree. If you donate, you will always get a shout out in my reviews.

Chris Christine blessed Kermit and Friends with another appearance. She said a prayer for Elisa and Sharmin, and then let God choose a Bible verse to share. His finger landed on 1 Samuel 17, which is about brothers David and Saul coming together. Christine then beautifully correlated the verse to her, Elisa, and Sharmin as sisters coming together. Chris is wonderful every appearance she makes.

There were lots of awesome musical guests this week. We met a nice guy named Hud Isaacson, a rapper who Elisa claims is Andy Dick’s most normal friend. He performed a couple for raps for us and then shared how mean Lucas was to Elisa last week. Click soundcloud and Instagram to hear Ian’s songs and to follow him on social media.

Another new musical guest was Miranda Moore, who performed two beautiful original songs. You can check her out on Youtube and also follow her on Instagram.

Lastly, Johnny B returned to perform two karaoke classics, including one of my all time favorite songs, Hurt by Johnny Cash.

I really enjoyed this week’s show. It had less comedy than your typical Kermit and Friends episode, but the way the show was filled with love, thoughtfulness, deep conversations and interesting stories made it a really enjoyable experience to watch. Please be sure to tune in next week for a potential big guest and a huge update on Trumpster Bob that you absolutely do not want to miss.

[jordanr770-blog]

My Thoughts on The Alienist: Angel of Darkness Season Finale

Please note that there be spoilers ahead. If you haven't watched the show, turn back now or ruin your eyeballs with spoilerness.

Alright, so to begin with, I love The Alienist. I loved the first season and thought this season was also super good until the last 15 minutes or so. The location, the cast, the crew, the costume designers, basically every single person who worked on the show is fantastic and I appreciate and respect every single one of them, with the exception of whoever wrote the last 15 minutes of that season finale. I have a few WORDS I would like to say about that ridiculously implausible and contrived ending of a season! 1. I am super disappointed that John and Sara didn't become endgame. More than likely Violet is lying about her miraculously timed pregnancy. But even if she is the worst, it is completely in John Moore's character to screw up like that. Yes, I realize that in life mistakes are going to be made and nothing usually ever turns out perfectly peachy, but I would also like to throw out there that this is a fictional story with a few real life people thrown in (Byrnes, Hearst, Roosevelt in the first season, probably more I can't think of right now...) and because it is a fictional story you don't necessarily have to follow the ground rules of real life. Making characters grow wings and fly may be a bit of a stretch for this story, but having people end up happy is not so far out of normal that people will be irrationally displeased. Creating a soap opera out of a doomed relationship because "realistic life scenario" is somewhat lazy writing and is bound to make a few people question your choices. Basically; NOBODY WANTS VIOLET AND JOHN TOGETHER, ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME WITH THAT NONSENSE?!?!?!?

2. We all know that Sara Howard is amazing and never needed marriage to define her as a person. But just ONCE can we please have a lady who is content and happy having both a job and being married? Why is it always one or the other? It's either "be a strong independent woman and die alone" or "be a slave to the nuptial life whose only hobby is housework and children," and that is a very unpleasant and unrealistic mindset to have. People can do both. Why not both? Why couldn’t Sara remain head of her own detective agency and also be in a relationship with John? It frustrates me so much that in tv/movies/books/etc. that this always seems to be the ONLY option when it doesn't have to be.

3. To be perfectly honest, I am probably not the biggest John/Sara shipper like a lot of you here. But I can completely understand your frustration with this entire thing.

4. Laszlo Kreizler kind of became a semi-background character this season and I didn't really dig it. He IS The Alienist, aka what the title of the show is and the title of the first book by Caleb Carr. I don't mind that they had it be Sara's POV this season, but I am a bit miffed that they didn't do a whole lot with Kreizler, who is one of my faves. And I'll say it right now, that ending with him was bollocks and completely OOC for the good doctor! I never really shipped Laszlo with KAREN Stratton (yes, they really named her Karen) and I loved the scenario someone came up with on Twitter where they said that she wasn't even a real person, just his psyche. But that theory (sadly) flew out the window tonight, along with Laszlo's personality. We are supposed to believe that he just said to hell with the institute which he spent a lifetime of blood, sweat and tears into developing/creating, and to hell with those institutionalized children, they'll be fine. No need for me to doctor around here anymore! Therefore I shall go gallivanting in Europe for 6 months with the pretty lady and go see Freud speak. I mean, there's having an existential crisis and then there's being careless and stupid. Laszlo is not careless and he's far from being stupid. It just doesn't make any sense!

5. I cannot stress this enough: FUCK THEM for killing off Marcus Isaacson. There was absolutely NO point in killing him off. To further the plot along and hurt us? NO. You can do that by taking an eyeball out, not by murdering one of the main five. I love both of the Isaacson brothers and I hate the decision of killing Marcus off. Did Douglas Smith not want to be in the show anymore? If that was the case they could have had him traveling in Europe with Kreizler for a few months and then decide to stay there for whatever reason. Killing Marcus Isaacson off was unwarranted and very uncool and I am severely mad about this. WE DON’T MURDER THE MAIN FIVE!  Do something else! Oh and I’m adding  Bitsy and Milly to the “not kill” list as well if we get a season 3. 

6. Whatever happened to Dr. Markoe and the Lying-In hospital? Are we supposed to forget that he was taking babies away from the mothers who gave birth in his vicinity? AKA committing severe malpractice. Maybe that was already explained and I forgot? I kind of want some answers to that. 

Those are all my ranted thoughts (for now). I haven’t read the book Angel of Darkness yet, but now I have a strong desire to do so. Will probably have to go buy the book this week to see how the show and book differ. I apologize if I offended anyone with my thoughts, you are completely allowed to have your own opinions, these just happen to be mine and I totally understand if yours are vastly different. =)

[deathbybillions]

1. No Quick Fix by Andy Naselli 2. Bad Science by Ben Goldacre 3. The Art of Discernment by Hannah Anderson 4. The Death of Expertise by Tom Nichols 5. For the City by Darrin Patrick and Matt Carter 6. Urban Apologetics by Christopher W. Brooks 7. Your Future Self Will Thank you by Drew Dyck 8. Remember Death by Matthew McCullough 9. Legacy of Ashes by Tom Weiner 10. The Great and Only Barnum by Candace Fleming 11. The Invitation System by Iain H. Murray 12. To Kill a Mocking Bird 13. Start With Why by Simon Senek 14. The Doctrine of Repentance by Thomas Watson 15. The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt 16. When Faith Fails by Dominic Dunn* 17. Alienated America by Timothy P. Carney 18. Budgeting for a Healthy Church by Jamie Dunlop 19. The Secret History by Donna Tart 20. Love Your Enemies by David Brooks 21. Imperfect Disciple by Jared Wilson 22. How Will the World End? By Jeramie Rinne 23. John Adams by David McCullough 24. The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson 25. Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe 26. Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson 27. God, Greed, and the Prosperity Gospel by Costi Hinn 28. The Rape of Nanking by Iris Chang 29. With the Old Breed at Peleliu and Okinawa by E.B. Sledge 30. The Orphan Master’s Son by Adam Johnson 31. A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson (Not Brasky) 32. All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr 33. Caring Well Report 34. Rebel Yell: Biography of Stonewall Jackson by S.C. Gwynne 35. Spiritual Gifts by Thomas Schreiner 36. Ephesians by John Stott 37. Leonardo Davinci* by Walter Isaacson 38. Einstein by Walter Isaacson 39. Crazy Busy by Kevin DeYoung 40. Openness Unhindered by Rosaria Butterfield* 41. The Making of the Atomic Bomb by Richard Rhodes 42. Free Indeed by Mark Sidwell 43. Ordinary by Michael Horton 44. Conversion by Michael Lawrence 45. God is Red by Liao Yiwu 46. The Pioneers by David McCullough 47. In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larson 48. The Wright Brothers by David McCullough 49. Eikon: CBMW Journal – Fall 2019 Issue 50. Confronting Christianity: 12 Questions by Rebecca McLaughlin 51. Politically Incorrect Guide to Climate Change by Marc Morano 52. Amos by TJ Betts 53. Science and Human Origins by Gauger, Axe, and Luskin 54. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury *indicates read at least 50% of the book, but not the entire thing (for various reasons). **Underlined titles are those I most enjoyed and/or profited from.

[acehotel]

A Trip to the Sun Ra archives on the occasion of his 104th birthday, as recounted by Eric Isaacson of Mississippi Records

Eric Isaacson, owner of Portland’s singular Mississippi Records, and Libby Werbel, curator of Portland Museum of Modern Art, traveled to Chicago last month to check out the Sun Ra archives, housed at the University of Chicago’s Regenstein Library. Libby is currently curating a show at Portland Art Museum dedicated to Sun Ra, opening later this year. Here, Eric reports on their pilgrimage to Chicago for the week of what would have been Sun Ra’s 104th birthday, plus the genesis of his love for Saturn’s favorite son. 

Before I get into a narrative about me and Libby's trip to Chicago, please indulge me as I write a digressive personal anecdote about the kismet that first led me to Sun Ra.

In the early 1990s, I was traveling through the USA in a van seeing the country for the very first time. In Phoenix, Arizona, I stumbled into a really bad record store, filled with over priced Beatles, Eagles and Rolling Stones collectables. The man behind the counter obviously considered himself a great music scholar and psychedelic warrior of the 60s.  On the floor, beneath a record rack, I found a box filled with strange homemade looking records. The covers were all hand painted and had titles like The Other Side Of The Sun, Disco 3000, Cosmic Tones For Mental Therapy, My Brother the Wind and so on. I had never even heard of the artist they were all attributed to — Sun Ra. 

Intrigued by the covers, I asked the record store clerk how much they cost and he said, "Aw, those records all sound like a bunch of noise... and they don't even have real covers, just those hand painted junky lookin' ones. You can have them for $2 each."  Something about the vibe of the record store clerk was so awful and the records seemed to be emanating the exact opposite vibe — so they called to me. The clerk’s contempt for them really did help their cause in my eyes. I was broke, but I bought the whole box.

This began my life long love of Sun Ra.

I used to be the manager of a record store in Oakland called Saturn Records (named after Sun Ra's record label), and now I run a record store and label in Portland, Oregon called Mississippi Records. Our retail shop always has at least 50 different Sun Ra titles in stock. Obsessive? You betcha. Libby Werbel runs an art gallery out of the basement of the record store called "The Portland Museum Of Modern Art." When she first started scheming on what she wanted to show at her gallery, a Sun Ra related show was at the top of the list. Through her world class work at PMOMA, she was recently invited to be visiting artistic director at the actual Portland Art Museum, curating 18 months worth of programing in their contemporary art wing under the theme of "building our own monuments." Who deserves monuments more than Sun Ra, the hardest working man in show business?

This led us to Chicago. The Sun Ra archive is held within the marvelous brutalist architectural library at the University of Chicago, within 150 boxes of varying size. Alton Abrahams, who ran Sun Ra's label Saturn with him and managed the band, donated all the materials to the University’s special Jazz Archive for safe keeping. We requested to spend 3 days combing through the archive, selecting the ephemera and artifacts we’d borrow for a full-on Sun Ra retrospective show at the Portland Art Museum. It was a great joy. The University doesn’t allow public documentation of the treasures in their archive (Editor’s note: the images herein were all swiped from the web), but trust me, it’s a mindblower, especially all the amazing posters of Chicago shows — Sun Ra with Alice Coltrane, Albert Ayler, the MC5 and on and on.

Sun Ra claimed that in 1938, a bright light appeared around him, and, as he says, "My whole body changed into something else. I could see through myself. And I went up... I wasn't in human form... I landed on a planet that I identified as Saturn... they teleported me and I was down on a stage with them. They wanted to talk with me. They had one little antenna on each ear. A little antenna over each eye. They talked to me. They told me to stop attending college because there was going to be great trouble in schools... the world was going into complete chaos... I would speak through music, and the world would listen. That's what they told me."

By the time he arrived in Chicago in 1945, Sun Ra was deeply immersed in the study of music, and the city was the perfect incubator for his unique vision. Despite Sun Ra's personal attempts to obscure his own origins and journey — he loved to be cloaked in mystery and intrigue — the story of Sun Ra since his landing in Chicago has been covered widely and well. His was a nuanced vision, and the picture posthumously constructed by the cold light of archivists and historians would not have been to interesting to him.

Like the man said:

"If death is the absence of life/then death's death is life"

After the cut: some stray observations we had in Chicago during the downtime between our long dredges through the fantastic 150 boxes of Sun Ra's historic artifacts. 

+ We arrived in Chicago off a red eye flight, bleary eyed and near psychedelic from the lack of sleep. Our dear friend Gordon, who happens to work at the Stumptown Coffee situated in the lobby of the Ace Hotel, picked us up at 6 AM and quickly corrected our condition with some cold brew.

+ Truth be told, I am first and foremost a food tourist and the legends of Chicago's 78 neighborhoods of ethnic food offerings was beyond exciting. Gordon was kind enough to lay down a beautiful list of must visit restaurants, some of them within walking distance of Ace. Two blocks away was a tiny Japanese restaurant called Ramen Takeya, which we had to visit twice due to a near religious experience we had while eating a salmon chirashi bowl with crunchy onion bits. We also ate incredible Naples-style pizza, which they cut with scissors to whatever size your heart desires, so you can get away with trying six pies in one sitting. A trip to Chinatown landed us at a perfect no nonsense dim sum place, and then there was the Greek deli that served a spinach pie as big as two fists of fury.

+ We managed to do some non-food related things too — like take a great stroll to the Garden of the Phoenix, a small island park across from the Museum of Science and Industry, replete with its own charming Japanese garden on the water an a surprise sculpture by none other than Yoko Ono. 

+ We went and drank martinis at Al Capone’s old haunt called the Green Mill Cocktail lounge and at in the dark smoke crusted dive in what we were told was his favorite booth. 

+ On our last day we made our pilgrimage to the MCA to catch the Howardena Pindell retrospective which managed to move Libby to tears. Her dedication and political conviction was exactly what both of us needed to see. 

+ Since we had some more time to kill before our evening flight out, we made our way to the Center for Intuitive and Outsider Art and upon arrival felt like we hit pay dirt! This place was amazing! Libby waxed poetic about the long history of Chicago and the surrounding areas radical community of self-taught artists and we got to see some of our favorites displayed unassumingly in all their glory. They had everyone: Lee Godie, Eugene Von Bruenchenhein, Simon Sparrow, Mose Tolliver and Jimmy Lee Sudduth (to name a few) and a full-on recreation of Henry Darger’s apartment, which immediately creeped us both out. It was a perfect treat to the end of our trip, and solidified our belief that Chicago is a city filled to the brim with things to discover. We can’t wait to come back.

[noel-loves-lmk]

Oh my gosh you guys! Tonight was an utter DREAM!!! Sorry the picture is blurry. My hand was super shaky. I’ll scan and post the program later.

The concert started off with Mike Isaacson doing his Muny spiel. There were a lot of announcements about the gala this year. That information can be found on the Muny’s Instagram page.

Now to the important stuff.

Once Mr. Isaacson was finished with season announcements, he started talking about Laura Michelle Kelly. He first heard about her when ALW and Disney were both pursuing her for shows. ALW for Woman in White and Disney for Mary Poppins. So he really wanted her to perform at the Muny. She is one of the few people he was absolutely starstruck over (as we all are). 

One day during the run of The King and I (the 2012 Muny production), she went into his office and said, “darling, let me tell you a story.” She told him that she had agreed to take on the part of Anna as a “silent swan song” with the intention to quit the business. She had been getting really frustrated with it. It wasn’t fulfilling her, she wasn’t getting the parts she wanted, and she wasn’t happy. She wanted to do The King and I because she had done it with her mother as a child (I think she played a dog in the Uncle Tom’s Cabin number). But, performing at the Muny changed her mind (and thank goodness for that!). She said that it was really the children who made up her mind to stay. There was something about passing the craft down to the next generation that made her want to stay.

With that, Isaacson introduced Laura Michelle Kelly, and the concert began.

During the run of The King and I, she said she suffered heat stroke for the first time. All those skirts act like an “oven” when rehearsing in 105*F weather (with like 90% humidity. I know St. Louis.). The next year, she agreed to take any role where she got to wear a bathing suit.

Laura Michelle Kelly talked a little bit about the KAIT, and talked about how she met “the love of [her] life” and how home is where your heart is. Her heart, she said, is with the ones she loves. She said she never really called NYC home. For her, it was mostly just where she worked. She said she’d sometimes listen to the sounds of the forest to ground herself in the city because she grew up on a diary farm. She’d tell herself “make just a ripple (into Don’t Rain on My Parade)”. A couple of times she got distracted thinking about her boyfriend and lost her train of thought, blushing (literally the cutest thing ever!). Don’t Rain on My Parade got huge applause.

In conjunction with Just Beyond the Stars, she talked about how, when she was 17, she had an audition to play Wendy in Peter Pan and, since she was watching her brothers, she took them and had them audition too. All three of them got the parts, so she got to play the older sister to her two younger brothers on stage, which had a big impact on her. 

“Did you know that The Sheldon is actually named after Sheldon Harnick? That’s because it’s not.”

When she sang Once You Lose Your Heart, she talked about how she used to sing it when she was single, and now, how it’s changed for her since she’s found her love. She thinks about how her journey led her to him and said it makes her cry every time she sings it.

When she sings Feed the Birds, she thinks of her voice teacher, Barbara Walters (not the American Barbara Walters). Also, people always tell her that All That Matters gets them through things and is on their playlists. 

She was really excited to sing Children Will Listen because of the times we’re living in. She said we should listen to the children raising their voices, and I was really touched that she took a stand for kids. I’m not technically a child anymore, but it still means a lot to me any time someone stands up for them.

Also, “an Encore? No, I‘m not prepared... Just kidding, yes I am.”

Laura Michelle Kelly wore this beautiful dress that had a black, sleeveless top and a long, black, flowered skirt with a bow at the back. She had on a pair of sparkly bangles too. Her hair was stunning as always. GOSH! She was ggorgeous! (Yes, I meant to spell it that way.)

The night was altogether magical, and like, the best night of my life. We were in the front row, and I could have died happily right there. It would be at least two tests I didn’t have to worry about anymore. 

Song list

Piece of The Sky

Shall We Dance/Some Enchanted Evening

Stars and the Moon 

Just Beyond the Stars

Far From the Home I Love

Don’t Rain on My Parade

If I Loved You/Hello Young Lovers

Once You Lose Your Heart

Interval

Man That Got Away

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Feed the Birds

I Could Have Danced All Night/All That Matters

Children Will Listen

On My Way to You

Goodbye Until Tomorrow

Encore:

Almost Like Being in Love

Disclaimer

I want to apologize for my...review?...sounding so clinical. I am very tired, and emotionally drained. My face hurts from smiling, and Laura Michelle Kelly just posted that she’s wide awake, and I’m totally not. 

The below videos are some interviews for the Muny. It includes some of the stuff that wasn’t mentioned in the concert.

[mysoftboybensolo]

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 6: The Disturbance

A/N:  This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, a child is harmed, creepy break in of apartment.

Special shout out to @arizemo​​ for giving me encouragement to continue to write when I felt like giving up. You were the best and this is dedicated to you, even though I know you haven’t seen the show.

The sky didn’t look as promising as Laszlo had hoped, and was grateful that one of the staff members insisted that he’d bring an umbrella just in case, but he could swear that when he saw Evelina, the day seemed brighter and to him, there weren’t any clouds. “Good morning, Miss Lind. I trust you had a good night’s rest?”

“I did, thank you. I have not had the pleasure of walking this park yet, thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course, shall we?” He asked, gesturing with his umbrella, making her chuckle. For a while, they walked side by side, exchanging pleasantries, Laszlo pointing out the different birds, even the ones he couldn’t see but only hear.

“My goodness, you do know everything!” she laughed.

“When I was in college, I studied ornithology first, not quite sure what I had wanted to do, but then I had come to realize that psychology was even more fascinating to me. That was when I had met Moore and Roosevelt, I suppose they are the longest kept friends I have. This was in ‘77, so nearly twenty years.” He faltered for a moment, then said, “That must make me sound very old, doesn’t it?”

“Old? Nonsense, age was what you feel. Do you feel old? You don’t look it, if I may say. You are lean and fit, and you keep yourself in good condition.”

“I’m middle aged, Miss Lind.”

“Silly word. You are a man of the hills.”

“You may tease me as much as you wish, but I cannot help my age.”

“Your age?” she asked, surprised. “I never dreamed-” she stopped herself. I never dreamed that you’d ever think yourself as old, was what she would have said, but she saw the shadow in his eyes and decided to not further probe the topic. “You know,” she says, “It has come to my attention, that you still refer to me as Miss Lind. I believe we have come to know each other long enough to move past formality. Don’t you think?”

He paused to think and realized that she was right. They have known each other for a little over a month, and certainly their introduction was under a certain case of duress that helped bring them closer together. “I-I suppose so. It would be nice to hear you call me by chosen name.”

“Very well, Laszlo.”

Oh God, he thinks, how wonderful it sounds! As they walked, they passed a pair of ladies who stared at them with contempt and made a gesture of turning their noses at them, silently but effectively showing their distain for the pair.

“Do you think that was for me?” Evelina asked, trying to keep her voice light, though she was hurt by the gesture.

“I am certain that was for me. I am not the most well-liked man, and my profession is as frown upon as…” he paused, fearful he’d offend her.

Evelina smiled and nodded understanding. “As an opera singer. It’s alright, it can be said. A month ago, I had difficulty bearing the judging stares and snide comments, but I like to think I developed a thicker skin to bear it, even though it still hurts. I am sure they don’t bother you anymore, the comments on your profession I mean.”

He stopped completely then says, “Evelina, this is wrong.”

She looks at him incredulous. “What is?”

“That I should take up the time and friendship of…of someone so young and good as you.”

She sighed and grinned. “Oh, Laszlo, I am so glad I’ve met you.”

Now he looked at her incredulously. “But why?”

“Well, that’s just it. I am not sure why. I never met anyone that surprises me as much as you do, and yet, someone that I feel I truly understand. And the young ones are so boring. I am never bored with you!”

He huffed out a smile, shaking his head. “I didn’t think I was at all interesting.”

“Of course, you are! You put on this air of being steely cold and distant, but really, you are gentle and kind, and warm.”

“Do not be mistaken, I am nothing more than a cold, aging alienist.”

She shakes her head. “That’s what you try to make people think. And I know why. I may not know the details, but I know you did not have a happy childhood, and it made you feel as though you had to protect yourself from the hurt, but it also stops you from the joy you want.” Looking down at her gloved hands, which fiddled for a moment, she said looking back up, “Now, I told you why I like you, it’s your turn to say what you like about me. You do like me, don’t you?” She asks, her voice soft as she hoped she wasn’t wrong.

He speaks not a moment, then says, “Yes, I like you, very much. I like…that I feel safe with you. It’s a feeling I’ve not had much in my life. You make me think and smile, and, want to live.”

Evelina smiled and her eyes tender. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Laszlo.”

“And I-I’ve never met anyone quite like you.” He feels his heart race at her words, those blue eyes filled with an emotion that no one ever gave him before, and it filled him with many different emotions.

“Laszlo?” A voice breaks the moment, making Evelina and Laszlo turn to see where the voice came from. Approaching them were two young men, one tall and slim with a cheery disposition and the other a few inches shorter and sturdier with glasses. “Laszlo, we may have a lead!” spoke the sturdier man, who sounded quite excited.

“Oh, forgive us,” the slimmer man said, “We hadn’t meant to intrude.”

“Gentleman allow me to introduce to you, Miss Evelina Lind. Evelina, this is Marcus and Lucius Isaacson, they have been working with John, Sara and I on investigations.” Laszlo introduced them, pointing out to Evelina which man was who.

“Oh, yes, I do remember you. I recall Laszlo mentioning the both of you.”

“Likewise, Miss Lind. In fact,” Lucius spoke with a smile, “Laszlo has spoken of you on many occasions. It almost feels as if we know you.” Marcus gave a small but clear jab in the rib, making Lucius look at him in confusion.

Evelina blushed, pleased at the thought of Laszlo speaking of her to others. “Uh, yes, well,” Laszlo intervened, “Follow the lead and when we meet tonight, we’ll go over it. Good day,” his tone of voice may have been a bit curt, but it was understandable.

Marcus nodded and bid the pair a good day before guiding his brother away, trying to explain to him what it was they had interrupted.

Evelina felt her cheeks grow warm at the idea that she was talked of by Laszlo, that other people have heard him speak of her, she wasn’t just some secret friend he didn’t wish to be associated with. The soft rumble of thunder made them both look up at the gray sky and with a few drops falling, Laszlo opened his umbrella and held it over them both. Without thinking, Evelina had slipped her arm around his, allowing her to be sheltered more from the rain.

Laszlo gulped. Yes, he had escorted her a few times, he even escorted Sara, but how close her body was pressed to his side, the scent of rose and iris filling his nose, it made Laszlo feel like a schoolboy in the throes of his first crush. “Um,” he cleared his throat, “I should take you back home.”

As much as she was disappointed that the walk was cut short by the rain, she was pleased at the progress they had made. She felt certain that now with formalities pushed aside and the sharing of first names would lead to the next big step. But still, she was not certain. Did he just humor her since he had saved her and thought that she was a lonesome young woman, or did he have the same feelings as she did? His attitude at times made it difficult for her to decipher, but she wasn’t one to give up.

Reaching back her place, Evelina thanked him, and both felt the absence when her arm slipped away from his. But he had to return to the institute, and she had to be ready for rehearsals tomorrow.

Laszlo hurried back to the institute, and once he had returned, he noticed a group of children sitting on the floor along the wall, looking rather glum. “Oh, now why the long faces?”

“We were going to play outside, but then it began to rain, and sadly the children were very eager to go out,” Mrs. Gorenko, one of the teachers, explained to the doctor, helping him with his coat.

“Well, we can’t have disappointed children. I am sure that the great hall can be a perfect substitute.”

He smiled when he saw the children brighten up and exclaimed in excitement as they were led to the great hall to play. And as he returned to his office, he allowed the good mood to overcome him and he now smiled because of Miss Lind, or rather, Evelina. To say her name aloud was as much of a pleasure as it was for him to hear his name on her lips. Perhaps, he thinks, perhaps it is as he could hope it to be.

His mood was so high that he thought nothing could spoil this feeling, but a sudden crash and sound of children screaming broke his dreams. He got up and ran towards the sound, leading him to the great hall where children huddled in a corner, having been led there by Mrs. Gorenko.

He looked over and found Mrs. Gorenko knelt beside a crying child, his leg bleeding. Rushing over and falling to his knees, he looked at the child. “What happened?”

“I am not sure, doctor. We were doing our morning exercise, then suddenly, the window broke, and something flew into the room. Alastair tripped and his leg landed on the glass.”

“Check on the children, I’ve got him.” Mrs. Gorenko went to the other children, looking over them, while Laszlo examined the little boy’s leg. Alastair was only eight, smaller than the other boys, and it broke Laszlo’s heart to see him sobbing and shaking with fear. Other members of the staff came rushing in, wondering what the commotion was and came to help. Two of the nurses rushed over to Laszlo and they carefully carried the boy, rushing to the ward. “Get to work on his leg, he may need stitches,” he softly tells one of the nurses as he got up from the floor.

He went over and looked down at the little ones huddled, many of whom were crying, frighten by the disturbance. “Is everyone alright?” he asked gently and gave a quick scan over their persons. “Take them to their dormitories, no more lessons today for them, they’d have quite a shock as it is.”

Once alone, he inspects the window, followed the broken glass to where a large rock sat. Picking it up, he saw that tied around it was coarse yarn and a folded up piece of paper. He managed to slip the note out without tearing then opened it. The words sent a shiver up his spine.

I have my eye on you, Dr. Kreizler

John never got word from Laszlo to hurry due to great urgency, so when he arrived back home and received the message, he was quick to hurry right back out, despite his grandmother calling for him. He was led by one of the nurses to the big hall and his heart dropped to his stomach to see the sight. “Good God, Laszlo, what happened?”

Laszlo, who had been pacing back and forth, the look that John has seen many times of contained fury, and he knew it could not be good. “Someone threw a rock through my window, with this note attached.” He gestured to the note in his hands, stopped only to give it to John.

John read the note and he too felt his blood run cold. “Do you think it is the killer?”

“Who else? We must be getting close, if he could do such a thing. We need to get him before anything else happens.”

“Are the children alright?”

“Yes, for now. But,” his voice began to rise, “He intruded in their sanctuary. How am I supposed to explain to the children, that the one place they thought they were safe is no longer the haven they were promised? How can I take care of them if I can’t protect them from people like this?”

“We will catch this man, Laszlo, and all will be well.”

“You don’t get it, do you John?” Laszlo stopped pacing, yelling, “They came after my children! One of them got hurt, he may need stitches! What if the rock hit and killed one of them? My children were put in danger John, my children!” His voice cracked at the last words, forcing him to turn away from his friend.

John rarely ever saw Laszlo express an emotion that came from a place of caring, and it broke him to see how upset Laszlo was when a threat came to close, not to him, but to those he cares for deeply. John stepped up and placed a hand on Laszlo’s shoulder, gently, comforting. “We will get him, Laszlo. We will protect your children. I promise.” As much as Laszlo was touched by John's willingness to help, it did not ease his fears or disturbance.

But Laszlo was not the only one to be disturbed.

Going up the stairs to her room, Evelina hummed softly, thinking of the way he said her name, and stopped completely when she saw her door slightly opened. Her blood ran cold, and she carefully kicked the door open, but found no one there. Evelina looked about her room, nothing valuable was taken, but what sent a wave of fear over her was that her dresser drawer was open, and a pair of her knickers was missing. Her heart began to beat furiously and without thinking, she rushed out of the building and went to the first person she thought of.

Sara was shocked to say the least when she saw Evelina standing at his door, looking half out of her wits, desperate. “Evelina. What on earth?”

“I need help.”

She let her in and brought her to the drawing room, offering a whiskey, not thinking of how most women wouldn’t drink it. But Evelina gladly accepted it, downing the whole of it. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“My apartment has been broken into.”

“Oh my.” Sara sat beside her, offered a comforting hand. “Did they take anything valuable?”

“No,” Evelina said, and at first she hesitated, unsure if she should mention it, but then said, “They…they took a pair of my knickers.”

Sara stiffened, feeling shocked and a second hand fear. “What compels a man do to something so disturbing? Thank goodness you were not there, and that no one else was harmed.”

Evelina nodded, agreeing, but still shook. “I do not feel safe staying there. I am not sure what to do or where to go. Forgive me if I am a burden, but you were the first thought of when remembering our first conversation.”

“Not at all. I am glad you came to me.” Sara thought for a moment, then said, “If I came with you to your apartment to collect your things, would that make you feel better?”

“To collect my things?”

“Well of course. I can’t imagine you’d want to stay there much longer, so we shall have all your things brought here.”

Realizing what she meant, Evelina immediately began to protest. “Oh, I couldn’t dare ask. It is too much.”

“Nonsense. Even if you did feel comfortable staying, I wouldn’t feel right with sending you back alone. You shall stay with me for as long as you wish.”

Evelina’s eyes watered and she reached over to hug Sara, who at first was taken aback by the gesture, but welcomed it as she figured that Evelina was in need of comfort. “Thank you so much. I’ll pay you back,” she said, pulling away, “Whatever you’d like. I am not afraid of pulling my weight around here.”

“Really, it is alright. If the situation was reversed, I am sure you’d do the same. Now,” Sara stood, “Let us go and get your belongings.”

It was short work as Evelina did not have much, but Sara looked around the room, searching for clues, for anything to give a clue to who would do this. Whoever it was, knew how to return everything back to where things were, so he was smarter than your usual criminal. The sooner she’d get her away from this place, the better. Sara’s footman helped carry the trunk into the house and Sara brought her to the guest room. “You are free to stay as long as you wish. And I promise, I shall do what I may to figure out who did this.”

“No!” She quickly said, but then tried to explain, “I couldn’t drag you into this. What if this perpetrator is mad, a violent criminal?’

“It will take more than a pervert to stop me from helping you. Truly. And after all, if I intend to have my own agency to solve crimes, I will need the opportunities.” Taking her hands, she looked Evelina square in the eyes and said, “No woman should ever have to live in fear of being born a woman. And I meant what I said, we women must help each other. I am keeping my promise.” Giving a reassuring squeeze, she released her. “I’ll let you get settled in.” She turned to leave, but then stopped and turned back. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Tonight, a few men will be here to discuss a case.”

“You mean, John and Laszlo?”

“Yes, as well as the Isaacson Brothers. We are trying to solve the case of the murdered children. If you do not feel comfortable with the subject, you do not have to stay.”

“Thank you for the warning. At this point, there is not much I cannot handle.”

Evelina found herself situated perfectly and with enthusiasm hurried to join the gathering. All of them had arrived at the same time and were surprised to see an extra member of the group. “Evelina. You are joining us?” Laszlo asked, surprised.

“Evelina is staying with me indefinitely, so you shall see a great deal of her. And don’t worry John, I’ve already warned her of the nature of this case. No need to defend any ladies’ delicate natures tonight.” She teased, making him flustered. Evelina noticed and smiled, it was not difficult for her to see the attraction between the two.

“I shall get the tea,” Evelina offered, wanting to help as much as she could.

“Any news?” asked Marcus, as the team settled in their seats.

“Perhaps. Earlier today, a rock came hurling through a window of my institute, with this note attached.”

Sara took the note and looked at it. “Do you think he is closing in on us?” she asked as she passed the note along to the brothers.

“Who knows?” Laszlo said, taking the note back from Lucius once he was done examining it, stuffing it in his pocket, “But it unsettles me greatly to think he is close to my children.”

Evelina walked in at the last part and gave a quizzical look as she set the tray down. “Something is wrong with the children?”

“Thankfully no,” Laszlo answered, taking the teacup from her.

“Someone threw a rock through Laszlo’s window, we think it might be the killer,” Lucius filled in.

“No one was hurt, I hope?”

“One, he needed stitches, the others were just frightened, but they should never have been frightened in the first place.  Which is why it is imperative that we close in on this murderer.”

The evening passed in a feverish haze; Lucius and Marcus sharing their lead, everyone eager to work out the possibilities, and Evelina was there, trying to help keep things neat for them to work efficiently. She wished she was cleverer to help in their case, to actually do something worthwhile. But she also knew that any little bit could help them figure out why such a madman would want to hurt children in such a terrible way. Her eyes pricked with tears and she had to turn away at one point to dab her eyes with her handkerchief. At least the end of the evening seemed to be satisfactory enough for everyone had left with newfound hope and eager to start the next day. Laszlo and John were the last to leave. Evelina watched with amusement of how Sara and John danced around their feelings, and she wondered if she and Laszlo looked that way. She did sympathize with John, for he clearly adored Sara and Sara seemed to feel the same, but held incredible restraint from her feelings.

Laszlo didn't talk much around Evelina, as if company made him shy, as if everyone was watching him. But she understood, he no doubt had his mind on the case and he spoke her given name when he bid her goodnight, making her mind settle as she worried she offended him in some way. Both ladies retired for the night, and as Evelina laid down, she tried to wrestle with the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. Will she really be safe with Sara? Should she tell the whole truth of what she knows?

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl​​​ @flutterskies​​​ @sokoviandelights​​​, @cazzyimagines​​​​, @rumblelibrary​​​​, @fictionlandslanddreams​​​​, @violetmuses​​ and @barnesxnobles​​. If anyone else would like to be tagged, please let me know!

[dinafbrownil]

How Families Are Keeping Halloween From Turning Into a COVID Nightmare

DENVER — For Laura Stoutingburg and her family, Halloween has always been a monthlong celebration of corn mazes, pumpkin patches and, of course, trick-or-treating in their suburban Denver neighborhood.

However, the COVID-19 pandemic has forced the mother of two to change their plans.

“Traditional trick-or-treating house to house does not feel like a smart choice to me this year,” Stoutingburg said.

Families across the nation are haunted by the same dilemma: How can they safely keep the pandemic from overshadowing Halloween? Can families trick-or-treat and go to haunted houses, or should they opt for lower-risk activities at home?

Health experts say families should err on the side of caution when it comes to trick-or-treating and other traditional fall activities. Much depends on each family’s comfort with taking risks and ensuring they adhere to safety standards and common sense, they said. Masks should be worn by all, even if not part of a costume.

“My kids love going to the farm … to go pumpkin-picking, apple-picking and all those things we do in the fall,” said Dr. Aaron Milstone, a professor of pediatrics and an associate epidemiologist at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. But, he added, “if you show up at the pumpkin patch and it’s packed with people, that’s not the right time for you to be there.”

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recently released Halloween guidelines that warn against high-risk activities like traditional trick-or-treating, haunted houses and costume parties, as well as hay and tractor rides, among other things. The federal agency is also clear on the need for social distancing, mask-wearing and hand-washing to continue.

Many parents are coming up with creative alternatives for Halloween night. For Stoutingburg, 30, that means hosting a small sleepover with relatives that features pumpkin-carving, cupcake-decorating and a scavenger hunt.

Jody Allard and her family also will forgo their usual tricks and treats. Allard, 42, lives in Seattle and has a rare genetic disease putting her at higher risk for COVID-19. The mother of seven said her family will make new traditions this year.

“We’re going to make a bunch of different fun foods from the Halloween shows they like to watch on the Food Network, and we’re going to watch kid-friendly Halloween movies,” Allard said.

In Lancaster, Pennsylvania, 44-year-old writer Jamie Beth Cohen’s daughter came up with the idea that she and her brother dress up in costumes and trick-or-treat inside their own home, with their parents behind the doors of various rooms, waiting with candy.

“She’s excited to wear a costume without a jacket and get lots of the kind of candy she likes,” Cohen said.

Maya Brown-Zimmerman and her family of six never miss out on trick-or-treating in Cleveland. But they will this year, with Brown-Zimmerman, 35, at higher risk for COVID-19 because of multiple lung diseases. Instead, her family will use their costume money on new Halloween decor, and her four kids, ages 3 to 11, will search for candy at home.

“I’ll hide eggs of candy in the front yard for my little kids,” she said. “After they go to bed, the older kids will have a hunt for eggs in the dark in our backyard with flashlights.”

For families still hoping to trick-or-treat this year, though, what can be done to stay as safe as possible?

The Harvard Global Health Institute created a website to help parents assess their risk level for Halloween activities with a color-coded map of county COVID data. It shows which counties are “lower-risk” zones for COVID (green and yellow), where parents might feel more comfortable allowing their children to trick-or-treat, and which are higher-risk areas (orange and red), where online parties and very small gatherings are recommended instead.

Milstone said families should think less in terms of green versus red zones and more in terms of staying safe no matter what, especially considering asymptomatic carriers.

“Rather than people getting a false sense of security that ‘My area is a low-risk area, so I’m just gonna go and do whatever,’ I would say ideally everyone practices the same safe things,” he said.

Dr. Heather Isaacson, a pediatrician with UCHealth in Longmont, Colorado, said masks must be worn by all and has a simple suggestion for the reluctant: “Decorate those masks and incorporate them into the costumes.”

People who hand out candy also should wear masks, added Dr. Alok Patel, a pediatrician and co-host of the “Nova” and PBS Digital Studios show “Parentalogic.” If trick-or-treaters see candy-givers without masks, he suggested wishing them a “Happy Halloween” and passing them by for the next home.

“If people are outside serving candy without a mask, consider the added risk of potential respiratory droplets flying around, including in the candy bowl,” said Patel.

When it comes to handing out candy, it’s a good idea to maintain as much distance as possible.

“Think outside of the box with ideas like a reverse trick-or-treating, where kids stay home and dress up and neighbors do a parade and throw candy,” said Isaacson. She also recommended creating individual goody bags in place of bowls of treats.

“You could go all out and make candy chutes or a giant spider web with candy trapped in it. In some ways, the physically distanced candy-delivery ideas sound more fun,” said Patel.

As for the candy itself, Milstone isn’t as concerned about wrappers as about hand-washing. The primary message is, “Don’t let your kid eat candy with dirty hands,” he said. That means no eating candy until they’re able to get home to wash properly.

While you could technically sanitize wrappers, said Dr. Rita Nasseri, a Los Angeles physician and mother of three, “the safest solution is to buy your own candy and give your children that as a treat.”

As for teens, who may want more independence, Dr. Sam Dominguez, a pediatrician specializing in infectious diseases and medical director of the microbiology lab at Children’s Hospital Colorado, recommended that small groups of friends get together outside and carve pumpkins or watch a projected movie — while wearing masks, of course.

Nasseri advised something similar, adding that food served buffet-style and communal candy should be avoided.

In Boone County, Missouri, currently experiencing a rapid uptick in COVID-19 cases, Karina Koji said her family will stay home on Halloween night. They plan to dress up in costumes and face masks and give out bags of individually wrapped candies. They’ll also leave candy bags in the driveway for anyone who doesn’t feel comfortable coming up to the door.

“We shouldn’t let the pandemic take Halloween from us,” said Koji, 45. “We’ve all had to give up so much. It’s entirely possible to celebrate this fun holiday while staying healthy and keeping ourselves and others safe.”

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

from Updates By Dina https://khn.org/news/halloween-safe-trick-or-treating-during-covid-pandemic-family-tips/

[lia-writes]

next to me

pairing: marcus isaacson x reader 

a/n: taking my own angst out on fictional characters, whats up. wrote this when i was a little bit heartbroken. some listening inspiration goes to breathe by taylor swift.

;

Marcus has never been able to comprehend quite how much he loves you. The depth of his love goes so far past what science and logic can help him understand, that when you walked away from him, that feeling never once wavered.

A fire without smoke. In the overwhelming burn of getting too close, you found yourself doubting everything. What you wanted, what he wanted and what love was supposed to feel like.

Every time your gaze met, and you felt that warm pull inside your heart, your soul would flinch.

Hesitation.

He’d told you about Esther and the way they’d met and passed as quickly as ships in the night.

The heat of your skin under his fingertips, the heat of the blood that runs through your veins, never cooling.

But the idea of Marcus suddenly deciding he was able to settle down with you, and get married and start a family, chipped away at your mind, day in and day out.

You just couldn’t let the happy ending write itself.

Full stop, end of chapter.

Ships in the night.  

Seeing you across the room, at Delmonico’s is gut wrenching. His last sip of champagne catches in the back of his throat and his gaze is unable to be pulled from the sight of you and with another man.

You greet an older couple at the table in the corner of the room with a warm smile, before letting your partner pull out a chair for you.

Marcus places his empty glass down, with a little more force than necessary and counts each beat of his heart.

One. Two. Three. FourFiveSixSeven-

Lucius nudges him, having followed his brother’s gaze over to where you sit with another man’s hand holding yours. 

“You’re still in love with her?”

“I let her walk away, I always loved her”

“you still love her,” he repeats a little more firmly and the sight of you and him and the happiness that covers your features warm, pries apart his ribs and claws at his heart.

The champagne sits badly in his stomach, bubbling like your laughter used to at his bad jokes.

“I’m going to go get some fresh air,” he mutters, standing so suddenly that John, Laszlo and Sarah all look up from their lighthearted debate.

He moves toward the exit with a single glance in your direction. Exactly at the same moment you notice him.

It almost rips the breath from your lungs. You quickly swallow down the lump of unconditional love in your throat and watch him leave.

The lack of limits in your love for Marcus had you quickly cementing them in place. 

It wasn’t until now, with Jack’s hand in yours and his parent’s beaming at you from across the table, that you realize the true difference between your relationship with Marcus and this current one.

One had been natural. Perhaps a little chaotic, but the love had been there from the first time you’d met

Your new relationship with Jack had been constructed between your father and his parents. There was no fire. Simply smoke.

And now? You’re choking. You’re smothered in love you do not want and you’re watching the man you need, walk away.

You count each beat of your heart. One. Two Three-

It’s then you notice the table he’d come from. Lucius catches your eye and looks away. He’s the one other person who knows how much you hurt Marcus, and how even still, he would do anything for you.

You pretend not to notice the falling faces of those around you as you pull your hand from Jack’s and stand so quickly that the legs of the chair screech, unforgivingly against the floor.

The gold ring on your finger burns unbearably and your hands shake as you pull it off and place it firmly on the table, right in front of Jack.

He says nothing, mouth agape and stares at his parents. As if his mother and father can fix this in the same way that they pulled it together with neat stitches for him in the first place.

You’re icy cold as you move through the building, and out the door onto the street. One of the staff members follows behind, expecting he’ll need to wave down a cab for you.

Marcus stands close by, facing away from you with one hand in the pocket of his pants and the other running over his face.

For a few uneasy moments, your feet refuse to move. Until, in the way that waves will always return to shore, you’re pulled in his direction.

There’s something that twinges in his heart, his soul that makes him turn. Prepared to see another happy couple, he’s surprised when it’s you, standing in front of him.

Neither of you speak. You can’t seem to find the words and he knows exactly what he wants to say.

The three words pound along with his heartbeat. I love you; I love you; I love you.

You read each other’s expressions like the backs of your hands, a thousand thoughts and all of those unsaid words burning between you. The ice begins to melt as you drink in the sight of each other.

What feels like minutes later, you both speak at once, with three little words that intertwine together.

“I love you”

“I need you”

The crumbled empire of your love begins to rebuild.

[merzadolchet-blog]

VASTmas Day 3: Favorite Season 1 Moment

SPOILERS VAST SEASON 1

It is no secret that I find Visionary Destroyer perhaps the most compelling character on VAST—no small feat in a story chock full of fascinating characters in a cast overflowing with first-rate performers and storytellers! Although initially framed as an anti-hero, I read her actions in Season 1 as heroic: she does what she must in order to save her own species and others. And yet her lack of empathy toward Good Idea, who seemingly must suffer in order to save those billions of lives, creates a stark contrast with the warm and caring Peacekeep captain Lucy Bard. Despite the “greater good” of her mission, Visionary Destroyer’s callousness toward Good Idea makes her the less sympathetic of the two captains for most of Season 1. She may not be a classical anti-hero, but there is a structural similarity: we empathize, but do not sympathize, with Visionary Destroyer, just the way we would for an anti-hero.

In my favorite moment of Season 1, that changes. It is her reunion with the Fathers and the Mother in Episode 11, “The Truth.”

When she finally meets via Concordance with the Fathers and Mother, after completing her mission and bringing Good Idea back to the Brightest Eye, she is riding high—and yet is unexpectedly brought low. It is the moment that transforms Visionary Destroyer into a sympathetic character, and that sympathy powers the unification of Lucy Bard’s and Visionary Destroyer’s missions through to the finale of Season 1, and it sets the stage for her more personal character arc in Season 2.

The reunion sequence begins on a high note: as incoming Brightest Eye escort vessels rendezvous with the Screaming Valor, an overjoyed Visionary Destroyer speaks alone with her First Officer, Nydar. Visionary Destroyer believes this is the best day of her life, giving her Father everything he ever asked for. After a lifetime of being denied parental love and appreciation, this is her opportunity to finally gain the respect of the father she idolizes. Nydar is cautious, wanting to warn the Brightest Eye about what to expect when they see her, but Visionary Destroyer believes it is unnecessary:

There’s a way of thinking among my species that may not be all that apparent to you, although I think it’s affected you in a lot of ways. What something looks like and how it is changed doesn’t change who that person is. I may be larger. I may be, for all of the insanity and glory of it, a queen. But I’m still Visionary Destroyer. I’m still your captain, and I still serve the Mother. They’ll see that, just as I do.

-The Truth, 1:33:18

Spoilers: they don’t.

The ironic juxtaposition of this scene with the next one is especially precious in an RPG because the players have limited control over the story structure or plot events. Serendipitously, this scene sets up an emotional high that allows an even more powerful contrast with what is to come.

I’ve spoken before of the heartbreaking rejection Visionary Destroyer experiences when she is greeted, not by gratitude for saving her species, but by utter rejection and disgust from those who are not only her rulers, but also her family. She believes her brother to be dead, and now even her Father and Mother reject her. She has no Brightest Eye left to support her, even in what she expected to be a moment of triumph. After an entire season’s work, with victory after victory that should have resulted in celebration now, she is instead met with cruel injustice.

Her reaction is the most vulnerable we’ve ever seen: it is the only time, in two seasons of VAST, that we see her cry.

I gave you everything I ever had. You told me to bring back a way to save our people, and I turned myself into this in order to do it. Look at me—tell them to look at me! RAISE YOUR FUCKING HEADS AND LOOK AT ME!

I did this for you, I did this for every single one of you. I’m here to save us. I have what you need, I’ve done everything you ever asked of me, and I’ve turned myself into this freak of a thing. I come to you in a body I don’t understand—I don’t understand. And the only thing that’s driven me this far is a need to serve you, all of you.

Call me your fucking enemy, I’ll leave the Slate at your fucking doorstep.

-The Truth, 1:37:21

Max Isaacson’s performance in this scene cannot be overstated. He pours his whole heart into it. His voice audibly trembles, and his eyes well with genuine tears when the Mother names Visionary Destroyer as Horrifying Monstrosity, False Pretender, and Enemy.

Through the tour de force monologue, we see Visionary Destroyer cry, rage, and plead. She in a place of vulnerability and supplication: even when she screams at them, it is a request to look at her, to recognize her humanity (so to speak). It gives them power over her. Their refusal drives her into self-hatred, and she frames her transformation, indeed all her actions throughout Season 1, in terms of service to the Fathers and Mother who now scorn her.

But as she realizes that their recognition will not—cannot—come, she also realizes her own leverage: she still holds Good Idea, the only means of saving the Brightest Eye. She need not demand anything of the Fathers and Mother, not when she has the power to withhold the only thing that could save them, and so her supplication turns into intimidation.

It is in that final line that she ceases to be a servant of the Fathers and Mother: her heroic accomplishment in bringing Good Idea back to the Brightest Eye is no longer for the glory of the existing power structure, but for her own.

In so doing, she grasps her own power. She truly becomes a queen. It is the climax of her Season 1 character arc, and her magnificent destruction of the Mother and subdual of the Fathers in Episode 12 Concordance is the plot climax that stems from that self-actualization.

This sequence is a masterpiece of storytelling, and the scene is perfect proof that Max Isaacson is a sensational roleplaying performer who not only creates an entire, powerfully-written monologue off the top of his head, but delivers with tremendous pathos. It is through his commitment to character and story, as exemplified in this Season 1 moment, that Visionary Destroyer has become an iconic character in the VAST galaxy.

Happy VASTmas!