#joost had two problems; the moon and his moustache

[jegulusofwesper]

Nina Zenik loved two things; Fjerdans and waffles. Not necessarily in that order.

[aidens-ocean-galaxy]

“Joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache”

the first sentence of the six of crows is giving remus lupin

[mournersandfunerals]

Me: Damn I should reread the trilogy before the 16th because I don't really remember much about it.

Also me: Joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache.

[just-a-queer-person]

first sentences of fav books:

• It's a weirdly subtle conversation.

• Als erstes ist da der Geruch von Blut und Kaffee. [the first thing is the smell of blood and coffee.]

• Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag.

• Joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache.

• On the White House roof, tucked into a corner of the Promenade, there's a bit of loose paneling right on the edge of the Solarium.

• "Oh dear," Linus Baker said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

• I am aware as I step into the common room that the majority of people here are almost dead, including me.

• I walk to the bus station by myself.

• One summer night I fell asleep, hoping the world would be different when I woke.

• There's these two kids, boys, sitting close together, squished in by the big arms of an old chair.

● "Can you come into my office?"

● My father was a king and the son of kings.

● The love of my life wants to die.

• Death Cast is calling with the warning of a lifetime - I'm going to die today.

• Yadriel wasn't technically trespassing because he'd lived in the cemetery his whole life.

• It makes sense that, when the times were desperate enough, when the people were frenzied enough, at a certain point we went past praying to deities and started to build them instead.

• I'd been envisioning what it would be like to behead the Vile One since the old wizard had shown up at my door the day after I turned seventeen and told me my destiny - that i would be the person who ended the dark shadow of evil that ruled our realm.

• When Gwen woke up, she knew she’d had the dream again – and that she’d been loud.

° It was a nice day

° In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

° Dear friend, I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn't try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have.

° Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, read the same book over and over, ate infrequently, and devoted quite

a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death.

° The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

- Nichts rührte sich im Tal der Drachen. [All was still in the valley of the dragons.]

- Es war Herbst in der Stadt des Mondes, als Victor zum ersten Mal von Prosper und Bo hörte. [It was autumn in Venice when Victor first heard of Prosper and Bo.]

- Der Fluss wirkte heute grauer als sonst. (There should be an english translation of this saga but i can't find it, it's called = Alea Aquarius)

- Meine Mutter wurde als kleines Mädchen fast entführt. (this book is apparently not very well known even in germany, so there isn't an english version sadly. i reread this every few years and it gives me so much joy. everything you want to happen in it actually happens. it's called: 'Wie eine Nuss mein Leben auf den Kopf stellte')

[bestgrishaversequotes]

longer quotes under the cut!

Joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache.

He was supposed to be making his rounds at the Hoede house, but for the last fifteen minutes, he'd been hovering around the south-east wall of the gardens, trying to think of something clever and romantic to say to Anya.

(Six of Crows, chapter 1)

--------

"When we get our money, you can burn kruge to keep you warm," said Kaz. "Let's go."

...

Jesper consulted his compass, and they turned south, seeking a path that would lead them to the main trading road. "I'm going to pay someone to burn my kruge for me."

Kaz fell into step beside him. "Why don't you pay someone else to pay someone to burn your kruge for you? That's what the big players do."

"You know what the really big bosses do? They lá someone to pay someone to..."

(Six of Crows, chapter 19)

[free-books-666]

SIX OF CROWS

(by leigh bardugo)

1

Joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache.

He was supposed to be making his rounds at the Hoede house, but for the

last fifteen minutes, he’d been hovering around the south-east wall of the

gardens, trying to think of something clever and romantic to say to Anya.

If only Anya’s eyes were blue like the sea or green like an emerald. Instead,

her eyes were brown –

lovely, dreamy … melted chocolate brown? Rabbit fur brown?

“Just tell her she’s got skin like moonlight,” his friend Pieter had said.

“Girls love that.”

A perfect solution, but the Ketterdam weather was not cooperating. There’d

been no breeze off the harbour that day, and a grey milk fog had wreathed

the city’s canals and crooked alleys in damp. Even here among the

mansions of the Geldstraat, the air hung thick with the smell of fish and

bilge water, and smoke from the refineries on the city’s outer islands had

smeared the night sky in a briny haze.

The full moon looked less like a jewel than a yellowy blister in need of

lancing.

Maybe he could compliment Anya’s laugh? Except he’d never heard her

laugh. He wasn’t very good with jokes.

Joost glanced at his reflection in one of the glass panels set into the double

doors that led from the house to the side garden. His mother was right. Even

in his new uniform, he still looked like a baby.

Gently, he brushed his finger along his upper lip. If only his moustache

would come in. It definitely felt thicker than yesterday.

He’d been a guard in the stadwatch less than six weeks, and it wasn’t nearly

as exciting as he’d hoped. He thought he’d be running down thieves in the

Barrel or patrolling the harbours, getting first look at cargo coming in on the

docks. But ever since the assassination of that ambassador at the town hall,

the Merchant Council had been grumbling about security, so where was he?

Stuck walking in circles at some lucky mercher ’s house. Not just any mercher, though. Councilman Hoede was about as high placed in Ketterdam

government as a man could be. The kind of man who could make a career.

Joost adjusted the set of his coat and rifle, then patted the weighted baton at

his hip. Maybe Hoede would take a liking to him. Sharp eyed and quick

with the cudgel, Hoede would say. That fellow deserves a promotion.

“Sergeant JoostVan Poel,” he whispered, savouring the sound of the words.

“Captain JoostVan Poel.”

“Stop gawking at yourself.”

Joost whirled, cheeks going hot as Henk and Rutger strode into the side

garden. They were both older, bigger, and broader of shoulder than Joost,

and they were house guards, private servants of Councilman Hoede. That

meant they wore his pale green livery, carried fancy rifles from Novyi Zem,

and never let Joost forget he was a lowly grunt from the city watch.

“Petting that bit of fuzz isn’t going to make it grow any faster,” Rutger said

with a loud laugh.

Joost tried to summon some dignity. “I need to finish my rounds.”

Rutger elbowed Henk. “That means he’s going to go stick his head in the

Grisha workshop to get a look at his girl.”

“Oh, Anya, won’t you use your Grisha magic to make my moustache grow?

” Henk mocked.

Joost turned on his heel, cheeks burning, and strode down the eastern side

of the house. They’d been teasing him ever since he’d arrived. If it hadn’t

been for Anya, he probably would have pleaded with his captain for a

reassignment. He and Anya only ever exchanged a few words on his

rounds, but she was always the best part of his night.

And he had to admit, he liked Hoede’s house, too, the few peeks he’d

managed through the windows. Hoede had one of the grandest mansions on

the Geldstraat – floors set with gleaming squares of black and white stone, shining dark wood walls lit by blown-glass chandeliers that floated like

jellyfish near the coffered ceilings. Sometimes Joost liked to pretend that it

was his house, that he was a rich mercher just out for a stroll through his

fine garden.

Before he rounded the corner, Joost took a deep breath. Anya, your eyes are

brown like … tree bark? He’d think of something. He was better off being

spontaneous anyway.

He was surprised to see the glass-panelled doors to the Grisha workshop

open. More than the hand-painted blue tiles in the kitchen or the mantels

laden with potted tulips, this workshop was a testimony to Hoede’s wealth.

Grisha indentures didn’t come cheap, and Hoede had three of them.

But Yuri wasn’t seated at the long worktable, and Anya was nowhere to be

seen. Only Retvenko was there, sprawled out on a chair in dark blue robes,

eyes shut, a book open on his chest.

Joost hovered in the doorway, then cleared his throat. “These doors should

be shut and locked at night.”

“House is like furnace,” Retvenko drawled without opening his eyes, his

Ravkan accent thick and rolling. “Tell Hoede I stop sweating, I close

doors.”

Retvenko was a Squaller, older than the other Grisha indentures, his hair

shot through with silver.

There were rumours he’d fought for the losing side in Ravka’s civil war and

had fled to Kerch after the fighting.

“I’d be happy to present your complaints to Councilman Hoede,” Joost lied.

The house was always overheated, as if Hoede were under obligation to

burn coal, but Joost wasn’t going to be the one to mention it. “Until then—”

“You bring news of Yuri?” Retvenko interrupted, finally opening his heavily hooded eyes.

Joost glanced uneasily at the bowls of red grapes and heaps of burgundy

velvet on the worktable.

Yuri had been working on bleeding colour from the fruit into curtains for

Mistress Hoede, but he’d fallen badly ill a few days ago, and Joost hadn’t

seen him since. Dust had begun to gather on the velvet, and the grapes were

going bad.

“I haven’t heard anything.”

“Of course you hear nothing. Too busy strutting around in stupid purple

uniform.”

What was wrong with his uniform? And why did Retvenko even have to be

here? He was Hoede’s

personal Squaller and often travelled with the merchant’s most precious

cargos, guaranteeing favourable winds to bring the ships safely and quickly

to harbour. Why couldn’t he be away at sea now?

“I think Yuri may be quarantined.”

“So helpful,” Retvenko said with a sneer. “You can stop craning neck like

hopeful goose,” he added. “Anya is gone.”

Joost felt his face heat again. “Where is she?” he asked, trying to sound

authoritative. “She should be in after dark.”

“One hour ago, Hoede takes her. Same as night he came for Yuri.”

“What do you mean, ‘he came for Yuri’? Yuri fell ill.”

“Hoede comes for Yuri, Yuri comes back sick. Two days later, Yuri vanishes

for good. Now Anya.”

For good?

“Maybe there was an emergency. If someone needed to be healed—”

“First Yuri, now Anya. I will be next, and no one will notice except poor

little Officer Joost. Go now.”

“If Councilman Hoede—”

Retvenko raised an arm and a gust of air slammed Joost backwards. Joost

scrambled to keep his

footing, grabbing for the doorframe.

“I said now.” Retvenko etched a circle in the air, and the door slammed

shut. Joost let go just in time to avoid having his fingers smashed, and

toppled into the side garden.

He got to his feet as quickly as he could, wiping muck from his uniform,

shame squirming in his belly. One of the glass panes in the door had

cracked from the force. Through it, he saw the Squaller smirking.

“That’s counting against your indenture,” Joost said, pointing to the ruined

pane. He hated how small and petty his voice sounded.

Retvenko waved his hand, and the doors trembled on their hinges. Without

meaning to, Joost took a step back.

“Go and make your rounds, little watchdog,” Retvenko called.

“That went well,” snickered Rutger, leaning against the garden wall.

How long had he been standing there? “Don’t you have something better to

do than follow me around?” Joost asked.

“All guards are to report to the boathouse. Even you. Or are you too busy

making friends?”

“I was asking him to shut the door.”

Rutger shook his head. “You don’t ask. You tell. They’re servants. Not honoured guests.”

Joost fell into step beside him, insides still churning with humiliation. The

worst part was that Rutger was right. Retvenko had no business talking to

him that way. But what was Joost supposed to do? Even if he’d had the

courage to get into a fight with a Squaller, it would be like brawling with an

expensive vase. The Grisha weren’t just servants; they were Hoede’s

treasured possessions.

What had Retvenko meant about Yuri and Anya being taken anyway? Had

he been covering for Anya? Grisha indentures were kept to the house for

good reason. To walk the streets without protection was to risk getting

plucked up by a slaver and never seen again. Maybe she’s meeting someone,

Joost speculated miserably.

His thoughts were interrupted by the blaze of light and activity down by the

boathouse that faced the canal. Across the water he could see other fine

mercher houses, tall and slender, the tidy gables of their rooftops making a

dark silhouette against the night sky, their gardens and boathouses lit by

glowing lanterns.

A few weeks before, Joost had been told that Hoede’s boathouse would be

undergoing improvements and to strike it from his rounds. But when he and

Rutger entered, he saw no paint or scaffolding. The gondels and oars had

been pushed up against the walls. The other house guards were there in

their sea-green livery, and Joost recognised two stadwatch guards in purple.

But most of the interior was taken up by a huge box – a kind of freestanding

cell that looked as if it was made from reinforced steel, its seams thick with

rivets, a huge window embedded in one of its walls. The glass had a wavy

bent, and through it, Joost could see a girl seated at a table, clutching her

red silks tight around her. Behind her, a stadwatch guard stood at attention.

Anya, Joost realised with a start. Her brown eyes were wide and frightened,

her skin pale. The little boy sitting across from her looked doubly terrified.

His hair was sleep-tousled and his legs dangled from the chair, kicking

nervously at the air.

“Why all the guards?” asked Joost. There had to be more than ten of them

crowded into the boathouse. Councilman Hoede was there, too, along with

another merchant Joost didn’t know, both of them dressed in mercher black.

Joost stood up straighter when he saw they were talking to the captain of

the stadwatch. He hoped he’d got all the garden mud off his uniform.

“What is this?”

Rutger shrugged. “Who cares? It’s a break in the routine.” Joost looked

back through the glass.

Anya was staring out at him, her gaze unfocused. The day he’d arrived at

Hoede house, she’d healed a bruise on his cheek. It had been nothing, the

yellow-green remnants of a crack he’d taken to the face during a training

exercise, but apparently Hoede had caught sight of it and didn’t like his

guards looking like thugs. Joost had been sent to the Grisha workshop, and

Anya had sat him down in a bright square of late winter sunlight. Her cool

fingers had passed over his skin, and though the itch had been terrible, bare

seconds later it was as if the bruise had never been.

When Joost thanked her, Anya had smiled and Joost was lost. He knew his

cause was hopeless.

Even if she’d had any interest in him, he could never afford to buy her

indenture from Hoede, and she would never marry unless Hoede decreed it.

But it hadn’t stopped him from dropping by to say hello or to bring her little

gifts. She’d liked the map of Kerch best, a whimsical drawing of their

island nation, surrounded by mermaids swimming in the True Sea and ships

blown along by winds depicted as fat-cheeked men. It was a cheap

souvenir, the kind tourists bought along East Stave, but it had seemed to

please her.

Now he risked raising a hand in greeting. Anya showed no reaction.

“She can’t see you, moron,” laughed Rutger. “The glass is mirrored on the

other side.”

Joost’s cheeks pinked. “How was I to know that?”

“Open your eyes and pay attention for once.”

First Yuri, now Anya. “Why do they need a Grisha Healer? Is that boy

injured?”

“He looks fine to me.”

The captain and Hoede seemed to reach some kind of agreement.

Through the glass, Joost saw Hoede enter the cell and give the boy an

encouraging pat. There must have been vents in the cell because he heard

Hoede say, “Be a brave lad, and there’s a few kruge in it for you.” Then he

grabbed Anya’s chin with a liver-spotted hand. She tensed, and Joost’s gut

tightened. Hoede gave Anya’s head a little shake. “Do as you’re told, and

this will soon be over, ja?”

She gave a small, tight smile. “Of course, Onkle.”

Hoede whispered a few words to the guard behind Anya, then stepped out.

The door shut with a loud clang, and Hoede slid a heavy lock into place.

Hoede and the other merchant took positions almost directly in front of

Joost and Rutger.

The merchant Joost didn’t know said, “You’re sure this is wise? This girl is

a Corporalnik. After what happened to your Fabrikator—”

“If it was Retvenko, I’d be worried. But Anya has a sweet disposition. She’s

a Healer. Not prone to aggression.”

“And you’ve lowered the dose?”

“Yes, but we’re agreed that if we have the same results as the Fabrikator,

the Council will compensate me? I can’t be asked to bear that expense.”

When the merchant nodded, Hoede signalled to the captain. “Proceed.”

The same results as the Fabrikator. Retvenko claimed Yuri had vanished.

Was that what he’d meant?

“Sergeant,” said the captain, “are you ready?”

The guard inside the cell replied, “Yes, sir.” He drew a knife.

Joost swallowed hard.

“First test,” said the captain.

The guard bent forwards and told the boy to roll up his sleeve. The boy

obeyed and stuck out his arm, popping the thumb of his other hand into his

mouth. Too old for that, thought Joost. But the boy must be very scared.

Joost had slept with a sock bear until he was nearly fourteen, a fact his older

brothers had mocked mercilessly.

“This will sting just a bit,” said the guard.

The boy kept his thumb in his mouth and nodded, eyes round.

“This really isn’t necessary—” said Anya.

“Quiet, please,” said Hoede.

The guard gave the boy a pat then slashed a bright red cut across his

forearm. The boy started crying immediately.

Anya tried to rise from her chair, but the guard placed a stern hand on her

shoulder.

“It’s alright, sergeant,” said Hoede. “Let her heal him.”

Anya leaned forwards, taking the boy’s hand gently. “Shhhh,” she said

softly. “Let me help.”

“Will it hurt?” the boy gulped.

She smiled. “Not at all. Just a little itch. Try to hold still for me?”

Joost found himself leaning closer. He’d never actually seen Anya heal someone.

Anya removed a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped away the excess

blood. Then her fingers

brushed carefully over the boy’s wound. Joost watched in astonishment as

the skin slowly seemed to re-form and knit together.

A few minutes later, the boy grinned and held out his arm. It looked a bit

red, but was otherwise smooth and unmarked. “Was that magic?”

Anya tapped him on the nose. “Of a sort. The same magic your own body

works when given time

and a bit of bandage.”

The boy looked almost disappointed.

“Good, good,” Hoede said impatiently. “Now the parem.”

Joost frowned. He’d never heard that word.

The captain signalled to his sergeant. “Second sequence.”

“Put out your arm,” the sergeant said to the boy once again.

The boy shook his head. “I don’t like that part.”

“Do it.”

The boy’s lower lip quivered, but he put out his arm. The guard cut him

once more. Then he placed a small wax paper envelope on the table in front

of Anya.

“Swallow the contents of the packet,” Hoede instructed Anya.

“What is it?” she asked, voice trembling.

“That isn’t your concern.”

“What is it? ” she repeated.

“It’s not going to kill you. We’re going to ask you to perform some simple

tasks to judge the drug’s effects. The sergeant is there to make sure you do

only what you’re told and no more, understood?”

Her jaw set, but she nodded.

“No one will harm you,” said Hoede. “But remember, if you hurt the

sergeant, you have no way

out of that cell. The doors are locked from the outside.”

“What is that stuff?” whispered Joost.

“Don’t know,” said Rutger.

“What do you know?” he muttered.

“Enough to keep my trap shut.”

Joost scowled.

With shaking hands, Anya lifted the little wax envelope and opened the

flap.

“Go on,” said Hoede.

She tipped her head back and swallowed the powder. For a moment she sat,

waiting, lips pressed together.

“Is it just jurda?” she asked hopefully. Joost found himself hoping, too.

Jurda was nothing to fear, a stimulant everyone in the stadwatch chewed to

stay awake on late watches.

“What does it taste like?” Hoede asked.

“Like jurda but sweeter, it—”

Anya inhaled sharply. Her hands seized the table, her pupils dilating enough

that her eyes looked nearly black. “Ohhh,” she said, sighing. It was nearly a purr.

The guard tightened his grip on her shoulder.

“How do you feel?”

She stared at the mirror and smiled. Her tongue peeked through her white

teeth, stained like rust.

Joost felt suddenly cold.

“Just as it was with the Fabrikator,” murmured the merchant.

“Heal the boy,” Hoede commanded.

She waved her hand through the air, the gesture almost dismissive, and the

cut on the boy’s arm sealed instantly. The blood lifted briefly from his skin

in droplets of red then vanished. His skin looked perfectly smooth, all trace

of blood or redness gone. The boy beamed. “That was definitely magic.”

“It feels like magic,” Anya said with that same eerie smile.

“She didn’t touch him,” marvelled the captain.

“Anya,” said Hoede. “Listen closely. We’re going to tell the guard to

perform the next test now.”

“Mmm,” hummed Anya.

“Sergeant,” said Hoede. “Cut off the boy’s thumb.”

The boy howled and started to cry again. He shoved his hands beneath his

legs to protect them.

I should stop this, Joost thought. I should find a way to protect her, both of

them. But what then? He was a nobody, new to the stadwatch, new to this

house. Besides, he discovered in a burst of shame, I want to keep my job.

Anya merely smiled and tilted her head back so she was looking at the

sergeant. “Shoot the glass.”

“What did she say?” asked the merchant.

“Sergeant!” the captain barked out.

“Shoot the glass,” Anya repeated. The sergeant’s face went slack. He

cocked his head to one side as if listening to a distant melody, then unslung

his rifle and aimed at the observation window.

“Get down!” someone yelled.

Joost threw himself to the ground, covering his head as the rapid hammer of

gunfire filled his ears and bits of glass rained down on his hands and back.

His thoughts were a panicked clamour. His mind tried to deny it, but he

knew what he’d just seen. Anya had commanded the sergeant to shoot the

glass.

She’d made him do it. But that couldn’t be. Grisha Corporalki specialised in

the human body. They could stop your heart, slow your breathing, snap

your bones. They couldn’t get inside your head.

For a moment there was silence. Then Joost was on his feet with everyone

else, reaching for his rifle. Hoede and the captain shouted at the same time.

“Subdue her!”

“Shoot her!”

“Do you know how much money she’s worth?” Hoede retorted. “Someone

restrain her! Do not shoot!”

Anya raised her hands, red sleeves spread wide. “Wait,” she said.

Joost’s panic vanished. He knew he’d been frightened, but his fear was a

distant thing. He was filled with expectation. He wasn’t sure what was

coming, or when, only that it would arrive and that it was essential he be

ready to meet it. It might be bad or good. He didn’t really care. His heart was free of worry and desire. He longed for nothing, wanted for nothing,

his mind silent, his breath steady. He only needed to wait.

He saw Anya rise and pick up the little boy. He heard her crooning tenderly

to him, some Ravkan lullaby.

“Open the door and come in, Hoede,” she said. Joost heard the words,

understood them, forgot them.

Hoede walked to the door and slid the bolt free. He entered the steel cell.

“Do as you’re told, and this will soon be over, ja?” Anya murmured with a

smile. Her eyes were black and bottomless pools. Her skin was alight,

glowing, incandescent. A thought flickered through Joost’s mind – beautiful

as the moon.

Anya shifted the boy’s weight in her arms. “Don’t look,” she murmured against his hair. “Now,”

she said to Hoede. “Pick up the knife.”

[comingoutofthecauldron]

straight line:

-------------------------

broken line:

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

dotted line:

.........................................

unforgettable line:

"joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache."

[bastard-of-the-barrel]

Hi everyone!

Some of you may remember that last year I did an analysis of Leigh Bardugo's books. This semester, I did a little more NLP at university (but still not enough), so I decided to study the Six of Crows duology again. Like last time, I use python and work in Google Colab

Part 1. Six of Crows.

Text preprocessing

So, I had a book in epub format, but with the help of a special converter I received a book in txt format. I manually deleted text that didn't relate to the plot (thanks and information about the publication) and downloaded the book.

PART 1\n\n\nSHADOW BUSINES\nJoost had two problems: the moon and his moustache.\n\nHe was supposed to be making his rounds at the Hoede house, but for the last fifteen minutes, he’d been hovering around the south-east wall of the gardens, trying to think of something clever and romantic to say to Anya.\n\nIf only Anya’s eyes were blue like the sea or green like an emerald. Instead, her eyes were brown – lovely, dreamy … melted chocolate brown? Rabbit fur brown?\n\n

Here we have another problem. I wanted to look at the dynamics by chapters, and for this I needed to somehow define these very chapters. Unfortunately, during the conversion, any signs of the beginning of a new chapter were not fixed.

But we have another pattern...

...several consecutive newlines. Bingo!

Now we have chapters.

...Speaking about the chapters. An interesting observation: we have

11 chapters POV Inej

9 chapters POV Kaz

9 chapters POV Nina

9 chapters POV Jesper

6 chapters POV Matthias

0 chapters POV Wylan (sorry, sunny, it's not your time yet)

1 chapter POV Joost and 1 chapter POV Pekka

Now we make all words with a small letter and remove punctuation marks.

Remove stop words.

The code runs for about 10 minutes. There is time to think about the next steps.

Well, we still need to lemmatize, but I don't really understand how well this will work for a text with a lot of made-up words, so I'll skip this step for now.

Let's play!

Let's start simple: a word cloud. I take a ready-made library wordcloud and get a picture in just a few seconds.

Most often, of course, Kaz, Inej and Nina are mentioned. Matthias Jesper and Wylan a little less. There are many "guards", "grisha", "eye" in the book (and we know why).

Okay, let's move on. Now we'll take gensim library to vectorize all the words in the book.

Hey, that's Kaz!

This library is good because it implements a method for finding similar words. If I'm not mistaken, Word2Vec works like this: words that are next to each other in the text are considered similar. The number following the word is the cosine distance. The closer to 1, the more the words are similar.

So when we run a search on the word "Kaz" we get something like this:

Joost and Hoede were mentioned in the context of a parem, which is later discussed in the book. Of course, this is a rather controversial way to search for similar words (or names in our case), but still fun.

Look who gives the closest proximity to Inej! Otherwise, the set of words coincides with what we saw in Kaz.

Now I ship Nina and Kaz even more. Sorry.

There is a limit on the number of images in a post, so I will stop here, although the analysis of the first book did not end.

[sprnklersplashes]

"Mr and Mrs Dursley were proud to say they were perfectly normal thank you very much"- meh, bit bland, you get the information but I don't care enough about the Dursleys to make it matter.

"Joost had two problems, the moon and his moustache"-Who is this man, why is he beefing with the moon, what's wrong with his moustache and how can we fix it?

Also "Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason" walks up to HP's opening line, punches it in the neck, and steals its wallet.

It was number 5, but I still think that’s too high.

[jegulusofwesper]

Mila Jandersdat loved two things; Hanne and waffles.

[damnitandy]

"Joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache"

yeah also his name is fucking joost

[chillmayo]

after what, a year? I'm finally reading Six Of Crows. fucking finally.

Joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache.

here we go

[nothewraith]

Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.

If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.

Being a half-blood is dangerous. It’s scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. If you’re a normal kid, reading this because you think it’s fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened. But if you recognize yourself in these pages – if you feel something stirring inside – stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it’s only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they’ll come for you.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

My name is Percy Jackson.

I’m twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.

😤this is a grishaverse blog😤 so my response is the following

Joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache.

He was supposed to be making his rounds at the Hoede house, but for the last fifteen minutes, he’d been hovering around the south-east wall of the gardens, trying to think of something clever and romantic to say to Anya.

If only Anya’s eyes were blue like the sea or green like an emerald. Instead, her eyes were brown –

lovely, dreamy … melted chocolate brown? Rabbit fur brown?

“Just tell her she’s got skin like moonlight,” his friend Pieter had said. “Girls love that.”

A perfect solution, but the Ketterdam weather was not cooperating. There’d been no breeze off the harbour that day, and a grey milk fog had wreathed the city’s canals and crooked alleys in damp. Even here among the mansions of the Geldstraat, the air hung thick with the smell of fish

[sunshine-stars]

I so badly want to write in my book… but like I don’t want to ruin it and my mom reads it too

So I’m sharing a comment:

“Joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache.” He has a lot more than that cuz he’s about to die the irony

[bestgrishaversequotes]

OFFICIAL LIST OF QUOTES FOR THE TOURNAMENT (under the cut)

if any of these quotes catch your eye, please feel free to submit propaganda!! not all of the quotes here were submissions, I picked out fandom faves that didn't get submitted plus one or two personal favourites, so if you see your favourite quote here go ahead and rant in my inbox about why you love it!!

all propaganda will be published with the polls

quotes crossed out have been eliminated; quotes in bold are still in the tournament!

Hug the goat, shut the hell up

He knew the look of a man defending his home with nothing but a rock in his hand

What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men

I'm sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now

Make me your villain

She's everything, you dumb son of a bitch

Because I am a pretty thing and a soldier all the same

Anything worth doing always starts as a bad idea

You're my flag. You're my nation

When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable

I keep to a strict diet of ill-advised enthusiasm and heartfelt regret

I know metal

I am not ruined. I am ruination

I make it a policy never to seduce anyone prettier than I am

That's weakness. That's a man afraid

They had an ordinary life, full of ordinary things

Joost had two problems: the moon and his moustache

We'll be kings and queens, Inej

My darling Inej, treasure of my heart

Matthias was dreaming again. Dreaming of her

What's the easiest way to steal a man's wallet?

The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true

I protect my investments

My Wraith would counsel mercy

My ghost won't associate with your ghost

I'm going to pay someone to burn my kruge for me

What bound them together?

We could wake them up

No. Not just girls

I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath

Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me

I will have you without armour, Kaz Brekker

I would come for you

Meeting you was a disaster

This action will have no echo

I recommend a cane

We do not take orders from Kerch street rats with dubious haircuts

This was the kiss he'd been waiting for

Someone I didn't want to lose

I'm right here, Father

When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway

I can read to him

How about I push you in the canal and we see if you know how to swim?

Is my tie straight?

Call me Grisha. Call me zowa. Call me death, if you like

Yuri Vedenen, if you upset my wife again, I will kill you where you stand

Why did it matter to him what became of Ravka?

A king never kneels, brother

My ruthless Zoya, I'll load the gun myself

Because I'm fairly certain I'm hallucinating, and in my dreams you're much nicer

But she was already a queen

You are strong enough to survive the fall

It had the unfortunate effect of making him want to untie it

You list off atrocities as though I'm meant to feel shame for them

Maybe the gift of being human is that we do not give up

I loved him and he loved me

Because I am greedy for the sight of you

There is nothing in it worth loving

As my friend, as my general, as my bride

This is what love does

I will leave this world on a hammer blow

Then I will love her from my grave

None of this had been fated; none of it foretold

I will always seek to make it summer for you