#oh ebb and charlotte

[eminent-victoriana]

I was over-analysing the fact that Rochester goes blind and so does Romney Leigh. And then I remembered that as a teen, before I'd read either book, I also wrote a story with a romantic hero that goes blind. Projecting all my issues onto Victorian writers

[junedenim]

not shy of a spark

part 2 part 3

one day with a stranger in a foreign country

word count: 16k

Alex notices her for the first time on the other side of the train's aisle. She's wearing a blue bandana around her head, tied under her chin, and looks like she belongs in a Godard film. Her dirty blonde hair peeks through and she's wearing sunglasses, like him. She's got wired headphones on and is staring out the window, just like him.

He's looking for too long. He knows it. She's going to catch on at some point. His eyes aren't hiding his infatuation but he can't help but look. There's no one sitting beside her and there's no one sitting beside him. She only has a saddle bag with her that's sitting on the empty chair.

He can't think of an opening but he can't stop staring. He tries not to look too suspicious but he's locked in looking at her during the train ride.

When they arrive in Brussels, she leaves before he can get out of his seat. Then, Alex spots the book sitting on her seat. All he can think is how big of a fool he must be if he wastes this chance to talk to her—a shy idiot who stares at a girl for the whole train ride and says nothing.

Once he gets off the train, he sees her by the escalator. She's looking through her bag and he assumes she is looking for the book. His heart feels heavy and he inches slowly toward her, not wanting to spook her.

"Excuse me," Alex says. She looks up at him. She's taken her sunglasses off and he can see her blue eyes. They're a calm ocean wave crashing into him. It takes him a second to spit it out. "This your book?"

She looks at the book in his hands and smiles up at him. Alex feels pride like he's achieved some Herculean task by giving the book back to her. "Yes, yes." She grabs the book from his hands and returns it to her space in her bag. "Thank you."

Alex can't let her walk away so he asks, "Is it any good?"

"The book?" She questions. He nods. "I like it so far. Have you read it?" He notices her French accent for the first time. It's light, not as strong as his English one, but it ebbs into the pronunciation of her words. It makes sense she's French. The book was in French. Haute Fidelite.

He shakes his head. "No, no. I saw the movie years ago."

"Oh, with Jack Black, right?" She giggles. She has a good laugh, an infectious one that courses itself through Alex.

He chuckles. "Yeah. You like Jack Black?" He wants to slap himself in the face and he thinks the wincing shows on his face. She laughs again, almost like pointing a finger in his face and saying Ha ha!

"I love Jack Black. Do you like Jack Black?" She turns the question on him with laughter.

Alex quails. "Who doesn't?"

She's about to say goodbye. Alex can feel her floating away from him and he can't let it happen. He doesn't want to be a creep but he doesn't want her to disappear forever without giving it a try. "Have you been here before?"

She nods and he exhales in relief that he has an in. "My mother is from here. When my grandparents were still alive we came."

"Do you think you could show me around a little? Point me to a good cafe or summat." He shoves his hands in his pockets. He must look nervous. He has to. Alex is sure his antsy behavior is creeping her out and the fact that he is breaking a sweat isn't helping.

But then she smiles and he thinks everything will be alright. "I could stop for pain au chocolat."

Alex grins. "You say it so French."

He's a dimwit English man because "Well, I am French." She smiles at his charm, which he would label stupidity. "I'm Charlotte but everyone calls me Lottie."

"Alex." She takes his hand and shakes it. A jolt runs through his arm like a nerve has been hit.

"Follow me? Yeah?" She instructs and he follows as she travels out of the station. Her dress, a simple white one, flows behind her and she looks as though she has the keys to the gates of heaven.

When they make it out of the station, she asks him, "What brings you to Belgium?"

That's when he starts lying to her. "I've never been before. I've always wanted to but kept putting it off."

"What about you? Why were you in London?" Alex asks.

She smiles at him. "I've got friends up there."

When they enter the cafe, Lottie takes the scarf off and he sees her full head of hair, glowing and cascading down her back like a rushing waterfall. "What would you like?"

"Oh." He forgot about that part. "A coffee, I guess, and a croissant." Relief comes when she orders for them.

They sit at a table outside. The air is breezy but not windy and the temperature sits firmly in no-need-for-a-jacket weather, even if he wears one still. "Do you mind?" She plucks a cigarette out.

"As long as I can bum one," Alex says.

She hands him one and a flame bursts between the two of them. "Do you usually ask strangers to be your tour guides in foreign countries?"

He chuckles. "Yeah. You get a translator and free cigarettes." Alex shakes his head. "No, no. I don't usually do this kind of thing."

"So, I'm the exception." Her smile sparks something in him. It implores him to be honest. He tells her that he's on a bit of a getaway, although he doesn't tell her what he's escaping. Brussels is the closest city by train from London and he'd never explored the city before. She tells him she's stopping her for the day before she heads back home for Paris tonight. She hasn't been here since she was a teenager.

After they've finished their pastries and coffees, she asks, "Do you want to see the peeing boy?"

Alex leans forward. "Pardon?"

She giggles and he feels like she's making fun of him. "You don't know anything about Brussels, do you?"

Alex bows his head shamefully. "I'll admit my research was lacking for the most part."

"Come on." She grabs his hand and drags him out of his chair. She lets go and he hates that she lets go.

On the walk over, she asks him what he does for a living. She must think he's a drug dealer or pimp by his evasiveness but he admits, "Oh, I'm, uh, a musician."

"What kind of musician?"

He's not helping matters. "I, uh, do a little, uh—I'm in a band."

"Oh, my ex-boyfriend was in a band," she says light-heartedly. "Do you like being in a band?"

It's oddly refreshing. It's not like everyone he comes across knows who he is but it's been a long time since someone has asked him what he does for work and doesn't know already. An especially long time since a pretty girl asked him.

"Yeah. I mean, I've known them—the guys—my whole life and it's a fun job to have."

"Not many people get to do their dreams for a living."

"What do you do?"

Lottie groans. "I'm a nanny but it's a temporary thing, at least, you know, for now. I'm kind of figuring the whole what I want to do with my life thing out."

Alex says, "That's perfectly respectable."

She scoffs with laughter. "Tell that to my parents. I think they would be supportive of me if they knew I had a passion for something. Like if I wanted to be a musician they would completely support me. I think they would, but I don't even have something like that."

"Well, what do you like?" Alex is fascinated and wants to know every little bit about her. Wants to understand what makes her tick. Wants to make her tick. He feels like a horny teenage boy but he can't help it. He swallows down his desires as best he can because listening to her talk is enough.

Lottie shrugs. "Euh, I mean, I have hobbies. I like to paint and I think I'm a good cook but...I don't want to do those things."

He nods. "I know what you mean. Music can feel that way sometimes. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't do that. Probably be a teacher like me parents or something."

Lottie smiles. It's bright and she stares at him like looking at a star up close would do to you. "Both your parents teach?"

"Yeah, yeah. Me mum's a German teacher. Me dad's taught science and music and stuff." He feels like an awkward gangly teenage boy in front of her. She's strong and moving and just has a way about her.

"Is that where your musical ability comes from? Turn down here," Lottie directs as they round a corner.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I suppose. It kind of came about in different ways."

"Do you speak German?" She's quite the interviewer.

"A little but not really."

"Huh."

Alex chuckles. "Huh, what? You making fun of me for being a dumb Brit."

She's giggling and he doesn't care if it is his lack of intelligence that is making her laugh because she's got a laugh that'll crack you in two. "No, never," she says but really means yes, totally.

"You're ripping on me because the British education system failed me. If I could learn another language I would," Alex tells her as they walk down the steps to the tram.

"What language would you learn?"

They're walking shoulder-to-shoulder and he feels something shutter in him by the way her shoes click along the tile. "French would probably help me out a lot right now."

Lottie had been sparked, smiling, she asks, "Would you like me to teach you?"

Alex, passing through the turnstile, smiles and answers, "I'd like that."

"Do you know how to say bonjour?"

Alex rolls his eyes. "I'm not that far gone."

Lottie throws her head back in a giggle. "I don't know how much the British education system failed you."

"Bonjour, je m'appelle Alex."

They hop on the tram waiting for them. Lottie nods her head in approval. "Très bien."

"That means I did good, right?"

She snorts a laugh and nods. "You're a right old Frenchie."

The tram is decently packed so they stand by the door, holding onto the same pole. He's not much taller than her but he still smiles down upon her. The top of her hair has fly-aways coming off of it from when she pulled her scarf down but she looks like she looks like the embodiment of divinity.

There's a lull of silence as the tram moves. She breaks it by telling him, "In Ypres, where my bomma, my grandmother, is from, they hold this festival where people dress up in cat costumes and throw cat stuffed animals from a tower."

Alex chuckles. "Why?"

She throws her left hand up in the air, talking with it. "It's symbolic, I think. They used to throw real cats from the tower to rid the town of evil spirits and bad luck."

"So, it's probably for the best they just do the stuffed animals now."

"I think so," she agrees. "What about you? Where in England are you from?"

"Sheffield," Alex answers.

Lottie leans her head on the pole, gazing up at him. He gets lost in her eyes. Could stare at them for an extended period of time that some might consider staring or stalking but definitely creepy. "What's Sheffield like?"

Alex doesn't know how to answer. He's always felt where he was from was plain, especially in comparison to what this Parisian girl has experienced. "I don't know. I mean, I like it."

She giggles at him. "Do you still live there?"

"Yeah, technically I still live with my parents. That sounds a bit lame, doesn't it?"

She's nice about and shakes her head. "I don't think so. I live with the family I nanny. Not exactly luxury."

"A live-in nanny sounds luxurious," Alex comments.

"For the family maybe but they stuff me in a closet."

"Like Harry Potter?" He questions.

She hums, "Mhm?"

"You know, how he lives under the stairs," Alex explains.

"I've never read Harry Potter."

He throws his head back with a groan. "You're making me sound like a geek. I thought it was a general knowledge thing."

"Maybe." She shrugs. "I never read Harry Potter. I was geekier in other regards."

"Like?" He wants to know everything about her. Wants her to expose her insides to him like a game of Operation and poke around, find her heart, and keep it for himself.

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. "I'm not going to scare you off yet."

"Oh, come on, I'm sure it's not anything as embarrassing as an unnatural obsession with The Strokes."

"I like The Strokes." She is the perfect girl. He delusional thinks that if she knows the Strokes she must know him but her eyes don't hint at that.

"You have to have one irredeemable quality, Lottie."

"Well, I don't know. I have this problem with my therapist."

He's taken aback. "Your therapist?"

"Yeah, I mean, that's a whole other bag of worms."

"Can of worms," he corrects the error with a chuckle.

"Right," she acknowledges. "We got into this disagreement over my ex-boyfriend. You know, he was a certifiable psycho and he had—this is our spot—he had this problem with, well, he was a porn addict."

Alex stills and doubles over in laughter and she has to drag him off the tram so it doesn't leave with him.

She furrows her brows. "What?"

"I just wasn't expecting you to say that."

Lottie sighs, "I don't pick the best men. That has been abundantly clear and my therapist has agreed with that for the past decade—"

"You've been going to therapy for a decade?"

She squints at him, "Are you sure you're not French? You're very judgy."

"Sorry, sorry." He doesn't want to upset her in any way, especially something he should probably be doing too. "I just don't know anyone who is in therapy let alone for a decade."

"I'm of the opinion everyone could use it otherwise they'll be spontaneously getting on a train to Brussels." She can read him like street signs. He says something and she knows exactly where he's headed.

"Hey!"

She grins at him. "Who said I was talking about you?" She continues walking straight. "I think everyone should be in therapy but my therapist is a certifiable nutjob but that's why I think she fits me. She's had a problem with everyone of my boyfriends, even the good ones. But my last one, who I broke up with because of the porno addiction, she told me that I give up too easily and I should work it out with him. I'm like 'You've told me to break up with my last 5 boyfriends but you want me to get back with the guy who has VHS tapes of porn under his bed."

"VHS?" Alex laughs.

Her head nods with amusement. "Yes, it was bad."

"Do you think you'll get back together with him?" Selfishly, he wants the answer to be no. He also wants her to say "Never, I want to be with you now." That's when he really feels like a foolish sad sack.

Instead, she says, "Uh, no. I'll just hop on a train to Amsterdam or something and continue to avoid my issues in Paris."

"You think you're going to keep traveling?" How's a world tour sound?

"I'd like to but I've got to head back to Paris for my job. They gave me the week off to visit my friends in London but they're expecting me back tomorrow morning. What about you? You off on a European tour?" Unknowingly, she's right.

"Nah, I have to get back to London for work too." Recording a second hit album more accurately.

"So, one night in Brussels?"

"That was the plan."

"Except you had no plans. Well, other than to prey on an unsuspecting French girl." She's simpering and he supposes that means she is fine with him preying on an unsuspecting French girl.

"I'm not preying on you," Alex insists. I just want to kiss you.

"You are totally taking advantage of me. I had plans too, you know. Now I'm stuck walking with you to look at a little boy piss."

Alex needs to know. "Is it seriously a little boy pissing?"

She giggles, "You'll see. We're only a street away."

"What were you planning to do here?" He doesn't want to drag her away from her plans and, if she'll allow him, he'd tag along with her anywhere.

"I didn't really have any plans. Reminisce. I haven't been back in so long I fear I made Brussels up in my imagination." She's reflective looking, eyes darting around the art nouveau buildings for answers.

"How does your memory compare to how it is now?"

"Not too far off." She points her finger. "Here's the pissing boy."

Alex sighs and closes his eyes in both relief and amusement. "It's a statue." A little boy elevated above a fountain basin, holding his penis, water sprouting into the bowl. Alex is an idiot.

Lottie throws her head back in a cackle. "Did you think I was taking you to watch a real boy piss?"

"I don't know what they get up to in mainland Europe. You're throwing cats off of towers here!" He's slightly embarrassed but her laugh, even if it's at him, relieves an ache of this being a moment he looks back on in regret. No regret with that laugh.

"Manneken Pis. He's a hero."

"If every man who whipped out their dick in Britain got a statue, I don't think there would be any room left in the country."

She giggles. "The story goes he saves Brussels by peeing on a fuse that was lit by enemies to explode the city walls."

"The moral is public urination?"

She clutches her stomach. "I guess." He can't help but join in.

They set off walking to nowhere in particular. They don't even discuss where actually their feet are taking them. They just use it as a pathway for conversation. She holds her hands around her waist and she talks in a hushed manner but clear. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he's sure his mumbling can't be easy to understand but she never asks him to repeat himself.

"Do you travel a lot?" He asks her.

Lottie replies, "More when I was younger. Mainly just in Europe but I went to New York once."

"My grandma took me to Disneyland once."

"Really? No one in my family would ever do that."

"Why?"

"They all hate amusement parks. Really, they all hate amusement." It shocks him considering she seems so amused by everything. So amused by him. The first to crack a smile, burst into laughter, and encourage him to do the same.

"Not the most wild bunch?"

"No, they're wild. My brother's personality takes up enough space for 4 people. My maman has this laughter you can hear from 3 towns over. But they're, euh, more sophisticated to say." She says it so delicately and intently, he can't but think there is more to the story.

He jokes, "Oh, us Brits are just rolling in the mud."

"Eh, eh, I'm not saying that! My family is uptight. I'm not saying I don't love them but I'm not the biggest fan. I'd like to go to Disneyland." She thinks for a moment. "No I wouldn't."

He laughs. "Why? Why the sudden change?"

She scoffs, "I hate lines. I have the patience of a masturbating boy."

Alex fears she's reading his mind and that she's calling him out like I know what you're thinking and you can't have it. He's also choked up in laughter. "What?"

"Oh, well, you know, I'm sure you know. It's quick and they have to have it now and god forbid maman walks in on you with the laundry so you have to get it down now and fast."

"You're crazy-sounding, Lottie." He shakes his head and catches his breath.

"Maybe but I'm not wrong. Do you want to go in here? You like records?" She points to a shop, a little off the way.

He mocks, "Do I like records?" Alex follows her head first into the record store. She greets the shop owner for them and heads straight to scouring her way through the records.

They stand side-by-side, throwing spare glances at one another, but the other never catches them. He embarrassingly sees one of his records in the eye and is eternally grateful the band made the right decision to not put any of their faces on the cover.

They make it to the Gs when she turns to him. "I have to be honest. I don't even have a record player."

Alex snickers. "You're missing out."

"I like the idea of it. We had one growing up but I don't even have a CD player. The family I nanny, they like music but they don't like loud things. They're the type that they gather around the piano every night."

"So it's not like they're for modernity, in fact, they're more old-fashioned than a record player."

"Precisely." They do this little dance. Showing each other a record in silence and either getting a nod of approval or a shake of dismay. By the end, Lottie has no records and Alex has about twenty.

"I can not carry all these back to London." He struggles to even pick up the stack.

She guffaws at him. "Why don't you pick 5 of them?"

Alex waves her off. "Nah, I don't think I'm going to get any of them."

She bulges her eyes at him. "Seriously. You're going to hurt the poor shopkeeper's feelings."

"Here, I'll get you one," Alex offers.

She laughs and shakes her head. "I don't even have a record player."

He selects one out of his pile and walks it over to the cashier. "This is my way of inciting you to get your first. I consider it marketing to get the vinyl industry back up and running."

The shopkeeper tells him, "12 Euros."

The cash only sign glares at him. "Oh, shit," Alex mutters under his breath.

Lottie smirks. "You don't have any Euros, do you?"

Alex sheepishly looks over at her. His wallet only showing the few pounds he had in cash. "Yeah, sorry."

She digs through her saddle bag and pulls at the cash from her wallet and hands it over to the shopman. "You really weren't prepared for traveling."

"I intended to get some at the train station. Got a little distracted." He feels like the biggest doofus but she's looking at him with heart eyes.

Lottie smiles and shakes her head in disbelief at him. "What did you get me anyway?" Alex picks the bag off the counter as they exit the shop. He pulls the record out of the bag and she reads aloud, "Love in Portofino, Dalida."

"I figured a little French to match your French, although some of it might be in Italian. I don't remember." He slides the record back into the bag but keeps carrying it.

"Well, thank you," she says. Their feet continue on the cobbled road with no direction in particular.

He dismisses the comment. "You paid for it. I stood there and looked stupid."

"The gesture was still there and I appreciate it." He's not sure if he's delusional but he swears she makes eyes over at him, batting her lashes with her hair blowing away in the wind. Her eyes zero in on him and he feels like he's drowning. A wave has taken him away and he can only gasp for air, steadily struggling. "The town hall is right up here. It's beautiful if you'd like to see it."

Alex isn't sure it can compare to the sight beside him but he is willing to give it a try. With a nod of his head, they set off in that direction. "What do you play in that band of yours?"

He's not expecting to talk about the band. He feels awkward, avoiding such a big subject of his life, but he's eager for this escapism. He desires to just be a boy with a girl in a European city with no cares of what is to come next. "Oh, um, I play guitar and sing."

"You sing?" She questions.

"Yeah." The way she says her question prompts him to think out loud, "Why? I don't give the impression I do."

"I never said that."

"Ah," he wags his finger at her, "but your tone did. You were surprised that I sing."

She explains, "You don't have the demeanor I imagine for a singer."

"Which is?"

"I don't know. I imagine it's a rock band, right?" He nods. "Then, I don't know, something like Elvis or something. You're not very cocky, at least not with me."

"You're not the first to say it and I understand why." His shyness is pretty obvious. "I'm not offended by it."

"Good." She smiles at him and he smiles back. They stand before the town hall, Saint Michael gazing down upon them but they are too occupied with one another to pay any mind to him. Somewhere between these glimpses at the other, Lottie breaks eye contact, and meets Michael's eye contact. "Here we are. Voila! That's here you are in French."

He can only utter, "Wow," but he's not sure who he is saying it to. The carvings of the gothic structure or the lulu leaving him rapt at every corner.

His eyes trace over every inch of the hall. Her eyes trace over him, not looking, not noticing. She's seen the town hall enough, she hasn't gotten enough of Alex, unguarded, relaxed, and enthralled in the building. He's got a cut on his chin, slight and almost unnoticeable. His hair is tamed in a rough manner that fits his personality, hiding himself away but messing about to stand him out in a crowd. His arms are crossed now, no longer hidden away in his pockets. His brown eyes trained forward but expressing something that you can't place your finger on.

They meet hers soon after. She points her finger at a street to their left. "If we go this way, there's a hill where you can look over the city."

Alex isn't sure if it's instinct or some form of confidence that takes a hold over him, but he grabs her hand, much like she did outside that cafe, and says, "Let's go then." Unlike her, he doesn't let go. Her palms are soft and wrap his calloused hands up in a gentle hug. On the walk over, he looks over with a smile to see that she's already returning one.

The incline ahead exercises their legs but they're never fully out of breath. Too deep in conversation to notice the beating of their heart and constricting of their lungs. "When I was younger," she tells him, "we'd come here every summer. You know, when Paris grew overrun with tourists, and I was on break from school. My papa would put me on his shoulders and I'd feel on top of the world. No fear of falling. I feel like I've been searching for that feeling ever since."

He wants to give her that. Wants to wrap her in his arms and soothe every ache. He knows it's some infatuation and, at first, he thought he was thinking with his dick, not his head. Now, he thinks he's thinking with his heart. She talks of feelings he forgot, buried deep inside his childhood self and forgot the wonder of. She's an innocent rush within a darkling.

"I used to beg to drive me parents car," Alex tells her, "when I was 5 or 6. One time, me mum sat me on her lap. We were in some abandoned parking lot. She let me drive the car around. She'd press the gas and break, of course, because I couldn't reach it but I steered and everything. Sometimes I wish for that control back."

"But you didn't even have it then," Lottie points out.

His brows furrow. He doesn't understand what she's saying. "What?" He had his hands on the wheel then. Now, it feels like he's strapped to the roof of the car.

"You weren't the one driving. Your mum decided when you stopped or started."

Something clicks in him. A knot gets undone. The analogy doesn't stop the car he's in from speeding down the highway but he feels he can ride with it, at least be in the backseat. "You're making me out to be one of those creepy boys obsessed with their mothers."

She wheezes. "It sounds like you're just fond of your mum, which is good. You haven't said anything too weird yet."

They're at a stoplight but their hands are still together, neither making a move to change that. He turns to look her in the eye. "Yet?" He squints at her.

"Are you an only child?"

He drops his jaw in an offended manner. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She drops her jaw in a chagrin manner. "You are!"

"What's wrong with that?"

She giggles at his affrontement. "Nothing. You're the one getting all frustrated about it."

He can't help but laugh along with her. "I am not."

Lottie points a finger at him. "Yes, you are."

They reach the peak, although it goes unnoticed amongst their laughter. Lottie turns to the view. "Here we are."

"Wow," Alex utters. They stand atop a peak of stairs looking outwards on an urban floral boom. Flowers line the cement down to the townhomes that stand on the ground floor. The town hall tower stands through the midst of buildings—Saint Michael's back to them.

"Let me get your picture." Lottie holds up her camera—a little yellow thing with a bright smiley face sticker on the front.

"What?"

She urges him forward. "Come on, you gave me the record. I'll give you a picture." He stands centered at the top of the stairs. His pose is awkward, unable to figure out where to place his hands. Her record in its bag hangs in his hand and he brushes a hand through his hair, although it does little to tame it. She snaps it leaving her with a bright smiley face.

"What's this building here?" Alex gestures beside them.

"The Magritte Museum, I think. That's what the sign says. Do you want to go in?" She's looking at him excitedly, fuck, he would do anything for that to continue.

He nods and they walk up to the porticoes where she admires every inch. "I think I could have been an architect in another life," Lottie tells him.

"Why not this life?" He asks.

"I suck at math."

He pays for the tickets with his credit card even if it means he's slapped with a large conversion fee. In the elevator, smushed together with 6 other people, he can't help but look at her. When their eyes meet, he feels something in him unlodge. Like that lump that's been stuck in his throat for the past 6 months has finally gone down. At last, he can breathe again.

When they reach the top floor, she reaches back for his hand and pulls him through the halls of the museum. He smiles down at their intertwined hands because what art is better than her touch? He's known her for 2 hours and he's saying shit like that. Fuck.

It's around Magritte's impressionist period that Alex finally has to whisper into Lottie's ear, "What the fuck drugs was this man on?"

She giggles, eyes trained on the painting "The Stroke of Luck" or, really, a pig dressed in a suit at a graveyard. "It's surrealistic, not drug-fueled mania."

"Then why is the pig looking at me like that?" He whispers and she giggles once more. That pig is eyeing him down and he knows it. Its eyes will follow him to every corner of the room, he swears.

"It's like Animal Farm," she tries to explain.

"Orwell?"

She nods. "Precisely."

"We should have gotten the audio tour. I don't understand anything," Alex whines.

"Don't doubt yourself. The pig feels pleasure at a cemetery. He stares at you insidiously. And you know, all men are pigs so."

She giggles from her riposte as he exclaims, "Hey! We aren't all bad."

Lottie rolls her eyes, but she knows. "Well, most are. Magritte doesn't seem like such a pig." She lets go of his hand and flounces off to the next section. He stands to watch.

At the end of the section, he asks her beneath a painting, "What's it mean?"

Her head tilts down from staring up. "The French or the painting?"

Alex huffs. "Both, probably."

"Well," she informs him, "the French is 'Ceci n'est pas une pipe' 'This is not a pipe.'"

He shakes his head in confusion. "But aren't I looking at a pipe?" He's staring at it, painted to near perfection. The shades in mahogany wood are clear. The cursive lettering insisting that it is, in fact, not a pipe.

She insists, "No. What are you looking at?"

"A pipe," he insists.

"But is it? It is both a pipe and not a pipe."

"Huh?"

"Could you smoke it?"

"No."

"Then it isn't a pipe."

He smirks.

"You get it now, don't you?"

"Magritte is a fucking genius."

She bursts out laughing so loud she has to clutch her mouth to contain the disruption. They quickly dart out of that room into the next.

Before Anne-Marie Crowet, Alex leans over and says, "It looks like you."

"The painting?"

He nods. "Not exactly. Not nearly as pretty as you."

She purses her lips. "You're trying to be suave."

"How am I doing?"

She just smiles.

They sit in the park afterward. It's across the museum and their feet hurt from standing in front of paintings for too long. They're on the grass, feeling every inch as the breeze breathes through them. He lies back on his hands and she sits in a criss-cross, picking at the little flowers that sprout from the dirt. She plucks one out and shifts over to him. He thinks she's going to hand it to him but she doesn't. She brushes his hair behind his left ear and places it there.

His heart is running a marathon and she looks pleased, the beauty of a flower growing from the earth or the sun at dawn or her. He has to do what he's been fighting against since his eyes met hers in the train window back in St. Pancras. He takes her face into his hands and kisses her. It's slow-moving but transmutes his system. She floods into him and his shore welcomes the wreckage. There's no point in stopping it and he can't think of a single reason why he shouldn't.

She pulls away from him with that oh-so-bright smile and rests her forehead on his. "I was worried I was going to have to make the first move."

"I just wanted to be sure."

"Pussy," she jokes. She giggles while she says it and he thinks she doesn't get to say the word often because she says it like a kid who whispers curse words behind their parents' back.

His hand is holding her cheek so delicately like her porcelain skin might shatter. "Just not a pig."

Her smile is overwhelming. She shakes her head lightly. "Not in the slightest." Kissing him again and shining light through all the cracks within him.

She leans upon him for a few moments. Head on his shoulder and heart in his hands. "What would you be doing right now if I hadn't become my tour guide?" She asks.

"Probably picked up some other girl," he jokes.

She elbows him. "Funny. You're trying to be funny."

Alex chuckles at her reaction. His arm brushes up her side and soothes her into him. "No, I'd probably be wandering around aimlessly having no clue where to go. Probably still trying to figure out how to get out of the train station. What about you?"

Her face changes and retracts. She stares off and hides herself away from his sights. "I don't know." He can tell she's lying when she shrugs him off.

"You can tell me," Alex tries to urge. "Or not. Whatever you want."

"I don't mean to depress the conversation." She looks back over at him. "Probably visit my bomma's grave. And sightseeing and such. Sorry to bring the light out of the conversation."

Alex shakes his head. "You're not. I want to hear about these things." Her mouth forms a small upturn. "Would you like to go?"

"No, I'll go another time," she tells him.

Alex stands up and reaches his hand down to her. "You should go. I'd like to come too if that's alright. If you would want that. I don't want to impose or anything."

She grabs his hand and he pulls her up. "You wouldn't be. I don't want to force you. We can meet up later if you'd like or part here, you know, I had a great time."

They're both too caught up in their rambling trying not to come off too strong. "No, no, you wouldn't be forcing me. I don't want to ruin your plans at all."

She finally grabs his hand. "Alex, let's go." She pulls him off the grass back onto the street. "It's up in Molenbeek so you can see a new part of the city. She's been dead for over a decade so it's not like I'll be weeping at her gravestone. I felt I had to go while I was here. Haven't been here since her funeral."

"Don't feel any pressure to hold anything in while I'm here. I want to know what you are feeling."

"Even though it's sad going to her gravestone, but being here in Brussels, remembering those things I did with her makes me happy. To be honest, I'm happy doing it with you. I think I'd be depressed walking around the city all by myself but sharing it with someone—with you—is a whole new pleasure. Thank you."

Alex shakes his head. "You don't have to thank me. I should be thanking you. You've been saving my butt here all day with your help."

"Well, you do have a nice butt that wouldn't be worth it to the world to risk." She is the glowing light around. A modern-day Aurora, except he's Sleeping Beauty, and she's snapping him out of the haze he has been locked in.

"You're pretty fucking beautiful too." She leans into him and puts her head on his shoulder while they walk. He kisses the top of her head and he feels like he has done this in a million other lifetimes. Whatever path the course of his life went down, he ends up here with her every time whether it's Brussels or Paris or London or Sheffield or the damn Moon. She's there.

His arm wraps around her shoulder and she guides the way with ease like she built these streets for them to walk down. She knows every curve and never leads them down the wrong way. She stops him from nearly getting hit by a bike and laughs at the little scream he lets out. Despite the gravity of where they are headed, she's smiling and joking around with him (or maybe about him) and he can't help but love every second of it. He never wants it to let up.

"When I was a baby, I got sick, some infant kind of sickness, and I was a crying baby, especially with this cold. My maman was beyond exhausted and she still had my brother to care for and my dad was working. My bomma came and the day she arrived everything cleared up. I wasn't sick anymore and I barely cried. She joked that my mother had made the whole thing up to get a visit out of her but my maman always says that I could feel the comfort of my bomma coming and I wanted to be on my best behavior. That's the relationship we always had."

Alex gazes down at her. Her eyes steady ahead but glance up at him with every passing sentence. He brushes his thumb back and forth on her head enclosed in his. "That's a great story."

"Yeah." She smiles in remembrance.

"You were very close?"

She nods. "Emotionally. Belgium wasn't too far but we always had distance and as she got older we had to travel to see her, which was mainly during holidays. Every time it was like a hug. The kind that is so warm you want to lie in their arms forever."

The cemetery is filled with trees, spring blooming in the distance. Their walk through the yard is silent. She lets go of his hand and stands before a small headstone, pulling a flower she picked from the park down on top of the stone. "When I was 5 or something, my bompa died. I don't remember much of him. He was a quiet man, especially compared to bomma. He was cremated and wanted to be tossed into this lake he fished at and we are going there and my bomma has his ashes in the little urn and she goes to pour them and the urn is empty. She keeps shaking it even though nothing is in there and she turns back to all of us, shrugs, and says, 'I knew he'd run out on me eventually.'"

She giggles so he feels permission to laugh. "What happened with his ashes?"

"Oh." Lottie laughs harder, which feels inappropriate for a cemetery but they are in a relatively secluded area. "She left it back at home. She brought the wrong urn to the funeral."

Alex chuckles and she grabs his hand. "We can go now if you'd like," she offers.

"We can stay however long you'd like." He doesn't want to rush her in any way. He can watch her stand in front of the grave and listen to her stories forever.

She shakes her head. "I'm good. I just wanted to think of her for a while. I'm ready for lunch. You need some mussels."

"Are you insulting my physique?" Alex jests, looking down at his triceps.

She laughs at him. "The food. Not the human variety."

Her feet clobber all over the street and his heart as she leads him to a restaurant. "I need to ask you something." They're going down that large hill now. It's easier than climbing it but now they have to worry about the fall.

"Yes?" She throws a smile back at him and he's losing his balance.

With his arm around her shoulder and her hand holding his hand, he asks her, "We've avoided the whole subject of boyfriends/girlfriends. You've got a fella waiting for you back home?"

She's smirking as if she could burst into laughter at any moment. "Would it change anything if I did?"

His eyebrows are raised but he's amused by her evasiveness, even if it concerns him. "Probably not. I've had my tongue down your throat."

"Ew." She squishes her nose up in this cute little wrinkled mess. It makes him want to kiss her, so he does. It's a wonder they don't trip over anything as he lays one on her. "To answer your question, no, not really."

"Not really?"

She twists out from under his arm like they're ballroom dancing. She walks backward sleekly down the hill, facing him. "I do this kind of thing in every country."

"Very funny." He chuckles but he wants an answer. "But seriously."

She returns to under his arm. "No, I haven't dated anyone since my porn-addicted boyfriend. That ended about 2 months ago and my therapist has been trying to get me back with him since then. You?"

He should have expected that, yet, he still feels that he has to let his guard down now. "That's kind of why I'm here."

"You're visiting your girlfriend?" Despite her joking about possible partners back in Paris, he feels her tense up at the idea of this.

Alex shakes his head. "No, kinda running away from it. I had a girlfriend for about a year or so and finally got to see her for an extended period since we've been long distance and right when I arrived, I got the feeling she wished it had stayed that way. She broke up with me about a week later. It's part of the reason why I'm here. Just need to have some time away from everything."

"The madness of everything?" Part of Alex thinks she knows who he is, but her eyes don't give that away. She just seems to understand what's going on in his mind.

"Yeah."

"Well," she sighs, "I'm sorry about the girlfriend."

Alex chuckles looking down on her face—looking up at him with a hidden grin. "No, you're not."

She giggles. "Duh." It's so adorable, sweet and teeth-rotting, he has to kiss her again. Teeth collide as she laughs away and they might nearly get hit by a car but it feels worth it.

Over a moules-frites and a beer each, she tells him, "I don't think I could do long distance."

Alex wipes away the remnants of beer lip. "Me and me girlfriend couldn't either. Clearly."

"I don't know why people feel such a pressure to make things work, you know. I had this boyfriend who went for a semester abroad in America and when he was there, he got an American girlfriend but still felt this need to make our relationship work even after he told me about her. I don't see it as a big deal, especially at our age. Why do we feel such a need to make relationships work? It's unrealistic to be with the same person forever, let alone at this age."

Alex shrugs. "I think we either feel a need to be like our parents or make up for our parents."

She continues her rant and he intently listens. "Exactly. I don't think things are meant to last. The greatest things have ended. But yet with relationships, even when we make mistakes, we feel the need to make it work. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes you don't have to force it."

"You feel very passionate about this kind of thing." Alex wants to make it clear he isn't mocking her. "I like it."

She rolls her eyes. "Passion is the key. Why shouldn't we go for the things that make us feel the most? I don't understand this whole 'tough it out.' Why should I deal with my porn-addict boyfriend? Why can't I just date a boy who isn't addicted to porn?"

"I don't think I have a porno issue," Alex adds.

"My therapist would not like you."

Alex tells her, "I think you should tough things out when they feel worth it. The struggle is sometimes what makes the outcome so good. When I've struggled with writing a song and then it's done, it's the accomplishment that keeps me going."

She's grinning at him. "You write songs?"

Alex is flushed red and trying to hide his head in his chest like a turtle. "Yeah, but we're not going to talk about that."

"Why not?" She's eager, he can tell, and if she really wanted to hear one, he'd play her something, but right now he wants to shield all that behind him.

"Because I don't want to tough that out." He uses her words against her. "I think the hard stuff can be worth it. That's all."

"You have a good point. I'm not getting back with my porno boyfriend though."

"Please don't." He doesn't want to sound like he's begging but he might be.

She explains further, "The impertinence of things is what makes them so wonderful in the first place, you know."

"Like some Hanging Gardens of Babylon shit?" His mouth is full of fries and he feels like he needs a kids' menu or something.

"So beautiful but we aren't even sure if it ever existed, right?"

He nods and finally swallows his chewing. "Partially. I don't think they ever found any physical evidence but they know the King of Babylon had these gardens built for his wife, who was a Persian princess or something. It was to help with her homesickness for the green forests of her home."

She chuckles. "You study this or something?"

"Read a book about it." It was actually a short article but a book sounds more impressive.

Her smile twists up and it twists his guts too. She lowers her eyes over him like she's examining him. "You're an impressive surprise."

"You don't expect me to read books?" He questions.

She shakes her head at him in disbelief. "Not about the Hanging Gardens of Babylon."

The sun has begun to set by the time they've left the restaurant, but their conversation of impertinence rings in his ears. After everything back home, he can't help but agree with her, but he can't help but panic about saying goodbye to her. He's holding tight and in no rush to let go.

They're walking slowly this time, in no rush to explore the city, instead focusing on knowing the way around one another. "Would you ever get married?" She asks him.

"You proposing?" The rush it brings to his chest is alarming.

She leans his head on his shoulder and wraps her arms around his chest. He hugs her close to him, fitting into one another completely. "Seriously. I've thought about this and I'm still not sure. I don't like the idea of marriage but I could imagine it for myself. It's a romantic idea and as much as I might not project that I'm a romantic person."

Alex points out, "You've been walking around with a complete stranger all day. That sounds like something a romantic would do."

"You're not a stranger to me anymore." It's the kiss that follows this sentence that seals it for him.

"I think I could marry someone if it felt right. I'd only want to do it once. If it didn't work out I don't think I'd give it another try," Alex confesses.

"Why not?"

"I failed at it once with someone I thought I could make it with. I wouldn't want to put that on another person again."

"What if it wasn't your fault? Like the other person did something unforgivable."

"Then, I never really knew that person. I think that's a little bit on me if I mistake a person for something they're not. That shite doesn't usually come out of nowhere."

She hums. "You're very intelligent, Alex."

He chuckles, slightly confused by the compliment. "Thanks."

"Emotionally. You don't find many men like that. At our age. Even at my parents' age." He doesn't feel like a man. So close to childish kooks and still having his mum do his laundry but she's earnestly saying it so he doesn't vocally disagree.

"I have a ticking clock in me. You can have kids at any age."

"I don't exactly have the passion to be a 70-year-old father."

She shrugs. "I don't even think I want children. They're too sticky."

A half hour or so later, they enter a sticky bar where she squeals about how cool it looks, which, in her defense, she's right. It's through this long hallway that looks like you're entering a church with stained glass windows before you enter a room that looks like Ozzy Osbourne pissed all over the place.

Gathered around a table in the corner with two drinks between them, they make out. It's not some impassioned tongue-down-each-other's-throats kind of kissing where you think the couple is about to have sex right in the middle of the bar. They're in a hidden, dark corner and it's the first time today when they haven't been in broad daylight. And, yeah, it is probably a bit sleazy looking but it feels overwhelmingly necessary for both of them to do.

"People are going to start throwing money at us," she says.

"What?"

"Like at a gentlemen's club or something," she explains.

Alex laughs and he unintentionally rubs his nose against hers and she wrinkles it up, all freckled and fucking cute. She separates them and sips her cocktail, prompting him to sip his bourbon. "Maybe I'll do that."

He snorts and the bourbon nearly drips out of his nose. "Be a stripper?"

She giggles at his reaction. "From nanny to stripper. No, I feel lost is all."

"Sometimes the best things come from being lost." Alex feels his mouth being forced to smile and he can't hide anything from her. "I was lost when I found you."

She blushes and, fuck, he's screwed. Her cheeks are pink and she's cherubic but at the same time talking about being a stripper and he wants to glue himself to this seat and watch her blush forever.

She leans forward placing her head on hand. She looks like Juliet standing on a balcony and, he supposes that makes him Romeo or at least Paris, which means he's going to die for her either way and he almost slaps himself because this isn't some Shakespearean tragedy and she's sitting right in front of him breathing, reaching her hand out for his, which he kisses the back of, which is very Shakespearean, so this might kill him.

"You make me flustered," she confesses.

It blows him away because he's 100% been the fool this whole time to this dream girl. "Seriously?"

She drops her hand from his and leans back, sipping away, keeping her glass in her hand. "Yeah, you're always saying these things and I'm stuck talking about being a stripper and rambling about my lack of direction and ex-boyfriend."

Alex wraps his arm around her shoulder and leans over to whisper in her ear. The bar is loud but he also just wants to be closer to her. "Can I tell you something?"

She motions for him to continue.

"I feel like the biggest fucking idiot talking to you. I basically feel like I'm gonna shit myself every time I open my mouth. You're very intimidating, Charlotte."

She gags at the sound of her full name. "How can I be intimidating?"

"Have you seen yourself? You're like some angel. I'm convinced there is a halo hidden under that head of hair."

She rolls her eyes and pulls away from him to face him more. "See there you go again being only Mr. Cool Guy. You do this kind of thing all the time. You know exactly how to make the girls swoon for you."

"I'm kind of interested in making only one girl swoon."

"Stop talking! It's like you're trying to kill me."

"How do you think I feel? I'm the idiot begging this beautiful French girl to help me after I stared at her the whole train ride."

She smirks. "You stared at me the whole train ride?"

He throws his head back and pinches his nose. He groans and she's laughing at him and how can you not feel like the fool when she's making him do shit like this? "I'm a major creep but I swear I'm not going to murder you."

She huffs. "Oh, how promising. Next, you're going to take me down a dark alley and I'll mysteriously disappear."

Alex hunches over the table and rubs his face. "You're making me feel worse."

She grabs both her shoulders and squeezes them. "Don't get in your head about it. It's a labyrinth in there. I'm here and you're here and I think we both know how we feel so no pressure. We don't have to ever see each other again if we find out things about the other we don't like. I don't think you're going to kill me and you shouldn't worry much about a girl who couldn't even win a thumb wrestle if her life depended on it."

Alex doesn't want to think about never seeing her again but he's done keeping his guard up and he's going to make the most of this day, even if it's the only one they spend together. "You want to thumb wrestle?"

She pulls back with a gasp. "You just want to feel like a winner. Piece of shit."

"Fine," he chuckles, "tell me a secret. What have you been hiding from me?" He hit his shoulder with hers before wrapping his arm back around her.

She toys with the ends of her hair. "Euh," she says, eyes cast away from him, and roughly bites her lip, "I left my book on the train on purpose."

Alex stares at her and suddenly everything shifts. He isn't the only fool. "Is that a technique you use? Pick up men through book leaving methods."

She giggles and finally meets his eyes, sparkling. "No, no. I had finished the book on the train and I, well, I could tell you were watching me. I'm sorry I acted like I couldn't but it made me seem like less of a sap if I didn't know. I figured if you were watching me, you'd return it, and if not I would lose the book. I'm glad I wasn't wrong."

He gazes. The entire day reframed in his mind. "You..." He isn't sure what to say. He's yielded completely but trapped thoroughly. "I can't believe it."

She smirks. "Worked out pretty good too."

"Holy shit" is all he can utter. His mouth gapes open and shut multiple times before he can even think of a thing to say. "And here I thought I was the sap."

She tilts her head back. "I'm a total maple."

"Maple?"

She explains by saying, "Maple sap."

Alex is overcome with laughter and completely dazed by her. "Can I steal that?"

She inches close to him and plays with his hand on the arm that is around her. "What's your secret?"

Alex admits he walked into that one. The unavoidable shielding he's been doing ever since he got on the train to Brussels. It's not that he's full of himself thinking she'll know him or know the band but the whole purpose, or part of it, was to get away from that part. After a year that most people wouldn't experience in a lifetime, he needed to escape himself.

"I'm sort of running away from that," he tells her.

"What? Did you kill someone?"

He awkwardly laughs. He's frazzled. Back against the wall and he sighs, it shouldn't be this big of a deal. "No, I've had this big year with me band and we're doing our second album now which is the first break we've had in a long time but it's not really a break since we're making this album. I love doing it but after the whole thing with me girlfriend, I just sort of feel like I'm not even meself anymore."

"So you went to somewhere where no one would know you," Lottie guesses.

Alex nods. "Sometimes I think the person I need to escape is me." He's been sucked into the black hole of himself. A constant loop of overthinking and ever since things ended with Johanna, he's been thinking that all he does is suck the life out of everyone else, including himself. He knows it isn't true. At least, not completely. The band is great and the guys are great but he's losing touch with everything he'd ever known. He doesn't talk about it much, not even with the guys, but he feels flipped on his head, drowned, and unable to come up for air, and the tide is only getting higher.

"It makes sense," she tells him. He looks down and she's looking back at him with those drowning blues and suddenly he's breathing again. The ocean is in her eyes and not suffocating him anymore. "The person you spend the most time with is yourself. I think I'm a horrible person most of the time but you do your best to find people who don't make you feel that way. If you're really lucky you found people that make you actually feel like a good person."

Alex pulls her closer and leans down, placing his lips close to hers, but not touching them. "You make me feel that way," he whispers.

He can see her smile, teeth like pearls in an oyster, allowing him to be whoever he wants. "You do too. For me." He kisses her. It's soft and serene and he's eager and she's eager, both tugging at one another. Her mouth tastes like cherries and he holds her face and she tugs on her lower lip. He's not going to force her to do anything more with him but he thinks she's thinking what he's thinking like they have the same mind and are joined in the ideas of one another.

She's heavy when they pull back. Red cheeks and out of breath talking. "Do you want to walk around more?"

Alex will follow wherever Lottie leads. He pays their tab and grabs her hand to walk the stone roads once more. The sky has grown dark and a light flickers outside the bar where a group of people stand smoking. The street is relatively empty, besides a few stragglers who are returning from work or couples reaching the end of dates.

He wonders if people think they are a couple. It would be an understandable assumption. They stand with their hands intertwined. Her other hand is wrapped around his elbow and her head lays on the corner of his shoulder. She seems sleepy whether from exhaustion or her drink.

They walk lazily down the street with no direction in mind, no need to end up anywhere. "I like Brussels at night," Lottie quietly says.

The night is placid and her body is warm. "Me too."

She stops them on a street corner and lifts her head. "Where were you planning on sleeping tonight?"

He's not trying to get his hopes up. Maybe this is goodbye. He doesn't think it, prays it isn't, but isn't sure of anything, except the way he feels. "I was going to look for a vacancy somewhere. You?"

Lottie tries to hide her smile. It's one of the most adorable things he's ever seen, like a child trying to hide a cookie they've stolen from the jar behind their back. "I wasn't planning on staying the night. I was supposed to go back to Paris about an hour ago."

Alex tries his best not to use wishful thinking but come on. "Are you going to go back tonight?"

She shakes her head.

"Do you want to—"

"Yeah."

He's not a horny person. He's not a porno addict, he's not obsessive with women's bodies, he's not thinking of sex, boobs, or ass every minute of the day but, fuck, does the blood rush south quickly.

She resumes their walking and, again, he's not trying to rush her but it takes everything in him not to bolt directly to the nearest visible hotel even if it looks like a place where sex rings are located. He holds his pace but then he feels her step quicken and he tries to not hold his breath but he's already out of it.

"Does this look fine?" She points somewhere.

"Yeah." It could be a bench. He doesn't fucking care.

It's a Hilton. Nice, clean, generic. It doesn't matter as long as it has a bed.

Lottie talks to the women at the front desk in French. He doesn't understand any of it. She hands Lottie a set of keycards and tells her, "Vous êtes dans la chambre cinq cent cinq."

Suddenly, they're heading off toward the elevators. "Did you pay for it? You didn't have to pay for it. I'm the one making you stay the night here."

Lottie presses the down button. "You're not forcing me to be here against my will."

"At least, let me pay for half," he insists.

"You can write me a check." They walk in the elevator and she presses the 5 button.

He taps his foot. He can't touch her. If he touches her right now, he'll fuck her. She's giving him bedroom eyes and a heartache and he thinks she might eat him alive and he thinks he might let her, if she's the kind of food that gives her salvation. He'll be the victim if she's the vampire.

She unlocks the door and turns on the lights. The room is basic and the sight of the one lone bed confirms everything he needs to know in his mind.

Then she turns around and says, "I'm not having sex with you."

Alex tries his best to not look disappointed and he thinks he does a decent job besides the quiver of a smile on Lottie's lips. "That's alright. I can sleep on the floor if you'd like."

A smile overwhelms her face. She's dipping into a fit of giggles before she throws her bag into the lone chair in the corner of the room. "I presume you have a condom. All men seem to have a condom in their wallet during these situations."

Alex scratches the back of his head. He tries to answer simply, "Uh, yeah." But she just told him they weren't having sex so the condom that sits in the hidden pouch of his wallet doesn't seem as useful.

"When I lost my virginity, the guy I lost it to pulled out a whole string of Trojans and threw them on my bed." She tells the story through laughter, recalling the details best as her traumatized mind will allow. "He had to have had at least 20 as if he even lasted long enough to count the first time as sex. He fell asleep about 2 minutes after."

Her giggles prompted him to tell her, "The girl I lost mine to provided the condoms because I was too nervous to buy them."

She claps her hands in delight. She's sitting on the edge of the bed. He keeps his distance, unsure of what she wants him to do. He leans against the wall, knee propped up, hands in his pockets.

"My porno boyfriend wasn't too good at sex, which is extra annoying because you'd think he'd know how to do it based on the amount he was watching."

Alex laughs and shrugs. "Isn't most porn kind of made for men anyway? It's just a woman writhing around at the slightest touches."

Her eyebrow is raised and the left side of her mouth smirks. "Have you read The Second Sex?"

"Is that some smutty novel?"

She bursts out laughing and he figures he made himself sound like an idiot. "You read romance novels?"

Alex recalls, "My friend, Matt—he's the drummer in the band—read one to us once. It talked about throbbing members a lot."

"Does your member ever throb?"

He isn't sure what she is asking him. "Have I ever gotten hard before?" He tries his best to decipher.

She ignores his question and asks, "How many girlfriends have you had?"

Alex answers, "Uh, 3, I guess. None of them really long-term until my last." She nods like she's studying him. She might as well be holding a pen and notepad in her hand and taking notes on him. "What about you?"

She avoids the question and becomes snarky. "I haven't had any girlfriends."

"Good one," he approves. "You should be a journalist. You’re very nosy."

She bends down and undoes her shoes with a smile pointed at him. "Sex is weird," she voices. "The idea of putting yourself in someone else or having someone else inside you and it being pleasurable is one of the funniest ideas I've ever heard."

He shrugs. "Why? I think being with someone, feeling so close to them, you want to be the closest you can possibly be, and that concept brings pleasure. It makes sense. I don't think sex is completely about that. The pleasure part."

"What do you think it's about?"

"The vulnerability of it. I mean, being comfortable enough with a person to be naked in front of them, let alone, allowing them to be a part of that nakedness, take part in your body. The goal is to give this other person relief. To bring them this immeasurable ecstasy." He looks down at his shoes. If he looks at her, he'll probably bust a nut. "I think it's one of the last untouchable things. I suppose until we're having sex with robots and all that."

He sighs and meets her eyes. She's blinking at him, slow and carefully, as if she's in a daze. He thinks he went on for too long and weirded her out with talks of being naked, ecstasy, and sex robots. Probably thinks he's trying to force her into something. Then, she bends down and unties her shoes. "I decided I was going to have sex with you when you said I looked like Anne-Marie Crowet. The rest has just been foreplay."

She leaves him speechless again. He isn't sure if that's the go-ahead or if she's just informing him until she stands up and takes off her dress and he's pretty sure his heart is in need of a defibrillator.

Her back is to him and the blue of her underwear is imprinted in his mind. She looks over her shoulder and teases, "Do I have to do the whole thing myself?"

He swallows a chuckle and tries his best to stand up straight. He pulls off his dirty trainers and makes his way over to her. His arms wrap around her and it's like the first time he's touching her all over again. The delicate movements he makes as if he might burn himself at the slightest touch of her.

Lottie helps him out and leans forward touching her boobs to his chest. She fiddles with the bottom of his shirt and he nods for her to pull it off of him. The lace of her bra imprints itself on his skin and he thinks it'll leave a tattoo. The roughness of the material combined with the feeling of her nipples poking into him makes the blood rush with such speed he thinks he becomes lightheaded. She's got this hungry look that kind of drives him a little crazy.

Then, her mouth is on his. It's red hot, hot and heavy, rough, but the way his hand lands on her cheeks brings a sweetness to it neither can endure thinking about for long when trains leave the station all the time and people never return.

He kisses her neck. It's right there, a stretch of soft skin begging to be touched. They stumble blindly toward the bed. The mattress bounces as they fall onto it and a squeal emits from her lips that breaks any remaining tension and makes both of them laugh, teeth clashing, both too hungry for it to pull away to breathe fully.

She sits up enough for him to undo her bra. It's thrown back, scattered with the other clothes. She urges him to remove his jeans, "It's only fair. Equal opportunity."

"I'll show you equal opportunity." He's kissing her neck then mouthing her left breasts, kissing everywhere. Every expanse of skin. She's warm, warming up every inch of him. He tries not to rub against her too much for fear he might implode as he grows harder by the millisecond. He's dizzy, drunk off her skin, drunk off her boobs, drunk off the giggle she lets out when he kisses her belly button, drunk off her.

Alex nudges her legs apart as he trails his mouth down her stomach. He kisses her clit over the fabric of those blue panties. She groans and he's in deep. His hands edge the line of the underwear but he looks up to know for sure. She gives a head nod and he drags them down her legs slowly. He wants her to feel what he's felt. This waiting, the wanting, while she's called the shots. He wants her under his thumb now.

He feels the crevices of her. Slowly, he moves his hands inward down the lines that connect her legs to the rest of her body. He touches his nose to the area above her clit, teases her, wants to please her but wants her to need it. Suddenly, her hands are in his hair, threaded through his strands, not pushing him down but urging him. He gives in then.

She tightens her hold on the strands of hair and if she were to pull any harder she might rip a few out. She lets out this noise halfway between a whine and a moan, and he feels addicted. Desperate to hear it again. She's some fucked-up form of heroin, the water after the desert, the tang of the lime after the tequila, the first flower after the kind of winter that cracks your skin.

He dives in heavier, sucks her clit, and it makes her gasp and makes him restless but he isn't going to let up. He stops and kisses her inner thigh, which only angers her as she drags his head back to her center. He laughs into her pussy and it makes her push his head down heavier. "Please."

"Please what?" He lifts his head and he thinks she might slap him.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me?"

"Fuck me," she begs and he grins, scruffy and desperate himself. He puts his fingers in her and you'd think he fed her a 3-course meal after months of only eating a shitty bag of petrol station crisps. He never considered himself to be too great at this kind of thing but she's shaking and he thinks he might be too but he's too focused on her to notice. She's crying out, coming, shaking, and breathless.

Alex wipes his mouth on his arm and kisses his way back up her body. Lottie leans up to capture his lips in a hungry, rabid kind of way, pushing him down on the bed. She snaps his waistband and he lets out a little scream, which makes her giggle, and it's a form of tit for tat. "You're annoying." She straddles him and he thumbs her hips.

"I don't know what you're referring to."

She crosses her arms. "Fine. You can sleep on the floor now."

"Only if you join me."

He leans up and kisses her and any teasing seems to have been forgotten because she reaches down and pushes off his boxers. Her fingers fumble before stroking him as if he isn't hard enough. "You've got quite the throbbing member." It's these tiny things that leave him rough and reeling and pushing any thought of never seeing her again out of his mind.

Alex pushes her over so she's on her back. He kisses her and says, "I need to get my wallet." She lets out a laugh as he goes to retrieve it. She sits up and watches him tear the packet with his teeth. Keeps watching him while he rolls it on, biting down on her lips, she pulls him close again, and touches him over it. Alex kisses her, long and good, trying to say everything he can't say out loud.

Everything becomes hazy. A mess as he enters her slowly before urgency takes over and she hooks her left leg over his hip and pushes him deep. A string of incoherent syllables fall from her lips and her brows draw together so tightly he sticks his thumb out to smooth it out. She catches his hand and kisses his palm. He hits this spot in her that forces this hitched gasp out of her and he swears he nearly cums from just that. She holds him tight, nails digging into his back. She could be drawing blood but he doesn't care. It feels good, everything feels good, electrifying, and killing. It's hard and rough and a real fuck if he's ever had one.

But it's more than that too because she keeps catching his gaze and holding it. Her arms are around his neck insisting he keeps his eyes on her, not that he'd look away, he doesn't have a choice but to take her in. She moans his name and Alex forgets for a moment that they are two bodies. He doesn't think his body belongs to him anymore. Its only purpose is to fulfill her.

He hits that spot again and she falls over the edge with a caught breath, nails digging deeper into his shoulder blades as he fucks her through it. For a moment, he's completely detached from himself, it's only her, nothing else, only her. Then, it's too much, and he's releasing into the condom and his body is on top of hers in a heaping pile of sweat-slick limbs and trembling bodies. His face is buried into the crook of her neck and he might suffocate himself.

Her arms are tight around him as if he might fly away into the night sky with a puff of smoke. He can feel her pulse race and the thought that he did that to her makes him want to already do it again. He presses his lips in the hollow of her neck and lifts his head. She brushes his hair back, all a mess in his eyes and he probably needs a haircut but who the fuck cares when her hands are running through it. "Is it always that good for you?" She whispers.

He's still out of breath as he shakes his head. "Fuck no." He doesn't want to remove himself from her but he disposes of the condom and she pees but they meet back in the middle.

The room is hot, even with the AC, it was cool when they entered but they've stunk it up with sex. She lies on top of his chest and his arms wrap around her and he has never had a girl fit so perfectly into that curve of him. As if they are curved for one another. "Best song to have sex to? Go."

He chuckles, still spent from what just happened but thinks. "I don't know like Marvin Gaye or something."

"Good answer," she approves.

"What's yours?"

"You know that Crazy Frog song." He doesn't think he's ever laughed harder in his life.

They run into an issue about a makeout session later. You see, Alex only had the one condom but is currently nursing a throbbing member, and Lottie isn't exactly cold either. "You think they sell them at the front desk?" She asks.

He throws his head back on the pillow. He can't keep making out with her because he can't go down in the hotel lobby with a raging erection. "I can't ask that poor lady at the front desk."

She bites her thumbnail in contemplation. "There's probably a store open down the street."

"Okay." He stands up and swiftly pulls on his boxers. "You can take a shower." She complained about being too hot and sweaty for about the last 20 minutes. "I'll get enough condoms to put virginity guy to shame."

She opens her mouth dramatically. "What are you planning on doing to me, Alexander?"

And, yeah, he nearly trips trying to get his jeans on after that. "I'll be back in 10 minutes tops. Do you want anything?"

She stands up on her knees on the mattress, the sheet is wrapped around her, and it's like she's trying to tempt him into a bad idea. "Oh, oh, oh!" She says excitedly. "You know those Lindt chocolates?" He nods, amused by her enthusiasm. "Get those but not the assorted kind, just the milk chocolate."

So, there he is at some grocery store, scared to buy condoms and chocolate for fear they'll talk to him in French. But the cashier is busy talking to his friend and doesn't so much as glance down at Alex or what he is scanning.

On the walk back (he thinks about running but that would probably be too dorky), Alex starts to spiral a little. Mainly at what has occurred in the past hours and the impending following hours. After their night together, what's next? A goodbye. If that's what she wants, he'll do it, but he doesn't want it that way. But is he really ready for a relationship? Let alone doing long distance again? He should probably be on his own for a while. Maybe they could be friends. Maybe this is a fond memory he'll look back at in his old age and remember the blonde angel who took hold of his hand and he never wanted to drop it. Suddenly, he thinks he'll be a single lone loser who doesn't find anything or anyone better than what he has and is forced to reminisce on a lost time. Or worse, he'll be with someone, but constantly thinking about what could have been.

He shakes the thoughts out of him and returns to the hotel. It's close to midnight and the lobby is empty except for the front desk which he gives a weak "Bonjour" to. The ride up the elevator is excruciating. Now that he is no longer spiraling, he's just thinking about her, naked. He fumbles putting the keycard through the slot and nearly drops the chocolates but he pops open the door.

And there she is. Naked, freshly showered with damp hair, lying on her side with her hands between her thighs. It's like she's shot him, he almost stumbles back, the sight is so holy, and he's so unworthy.

"Do you enjoy killing men?" He asks her. She smiles, giggles, and it pierces him completely. A force moving through him. She starts to sit up slowly and he quickly yells, "No, no, no, don't move!"

She lays back down pleased. "You bossing me around?"

The chocolates and condoms hanging at his side and his mouth almost hangs open. "Just want to take in the sight." And he tries his best to memorize every curve of her, the way her hand dances up her side, and how his heart is thumping away.

"At my museum, you're allowed to touch the art," she jokes.

Alex can't wait much longer anyway. He's fast. Rips open the box of condoms, takes a packet out, pulls his jeans and shirt off before toppling all over her. It's a laughing mess but soon their lips are connected and she's urging his boxers off of him. She ends up on her back, knees at his ribs, and his body braces above hers. Alex cradles the back of her head, pulling at her hair, and swallowing all her noises, those hitches, those gasps. He loves them, loves her, he's going to miss her like hell. He can't help fucking her as if he'll never get to do it again because he might not ever do it again (besides any later rounds they might have tonight). It has to be good, perfect, flawless.

She flips them over and moves down him, kissing every few inches. His hands thread through her hair. She's teasing him like he did to her and he could let her do it but he swears he'll lose it if she kisses her stomach again. He lifts her head off of him and she seems to get the message as he fists her hair into a makeshift ponytail. She takes him in her mouth, licks him like a lollipop up the sides, and he wants to be careful with her but he can't be gentle when he's dying for it. "Come on, don't make me beg."

She lifts her head with a raised eyebrow and he groans in discomfort. "Would you?"

He thumbs her lip and she kisses it faintly. "You know I would."

She takes him all the way in. She puts a quick, great effort into taking him completely in her mouth. Her nose brushes up against his hair before pulling back slowly. She begins to bob her head, working away at him that has him muttering, "Holy shit. Fuck." His eyes stay trained on her, even if he can't help but flutter. The sight itself is enough to make him shoot a load, let alone the actual feeling of her doing it.

Right as he's about to, she lifts her head up off of him and says, "You know, we could have done all this without the condoms right."

He's antsy, needs to grab onto something, he settles for fisting her hair. He laughs at her teasing but groans and bucks his hips up like come on, finish the job. She gets the message. Works away desperately. She wants him to cum almost as badly as he wants to. She takes him down all the way again and he goes then, right down her throat. She doesn't move, doesn't choke, swallows everything, and, fuck, he could cum again just from that.

He's panting, in dire need of air but never needing it again if she's doing things like that. She wipes her mouth and giggles at his reaction. Pleased with herself, the way she puffs her chest out shows that.

She takes the condom he's been holding this whole time out of his hand. "Did we really need this?"

Alex hooks his arm around her neck. "Yeah." He forces her onto his back, kissing her. It doesn't take much to work him up again and he brushes his fingers through her pussy and she's drenched and like that, he's ready to go again or he'll make himself ready to go again. He wraps himself up and rubs himself through her, has her writhing, has her moaning, has her clawing away at him.

When he enters her again, her voice gets raspy as he moans, "Alex." She kisses his neck and shoulder, and bites down in a vain effort to keep quiet before uttering, "Yes," and he's hungry for her to do it again. Snaps his hips into her quickly causing her eyes to flutter shut. His hand thumbs her clit and she pulls on him tighter. Her legs wrap around his hips and she tries to move closer to him as if it is humanly possible.

He flicks her clit again and he never considered himself to be amazing at sex but she makes him want to be the best and she's moaning like he might be. He tries to make it last, doesn't want it to end. He pulls out almost all the way before snapping his hips forward to get her moaning. Her fingers curl around the sheets, then around his hair. His hand grazes up her, memorizing. He's deep in her, both physically and emotionally. "Fuck," she groans. He tries to be slow, but she urges quickness before ordering, "Harder." He listens, bucking into her and she's melting away unable to focus on anything. His own pleasure is secondary. He hasn't even thought about his orgasm. He needs her to finish.

Their skin is coated with a sheen of sweat and he kisses away at hers. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into her tightly. It's enough to choke the light out of him but he doesn't mind because she's panting and unarticulately moaning before she's coming. Their pattern becomes messy before she sends him over the edge.

She tries to catch her breath and relinquishes her hold on Alex. "Holy shit," she whispers weakly.

Alex hums in concurrence. He runs his fingers down her sides to make her shiver—a quiver comes from her lips.

"Hi there," she says. Something in him swells. He pulls her by the waist and she yelps a little, surprised, and then bites down on a grin. Reaches up to push his hair from his face and she's cracked him open like an egg and now he's just spilling out. His eyes fall shut and he wraps her up in his arms, indolent from exertion, nuzzling her nose to his.

She sighs heavily and they're stuck in the post-sex silent glow. Absorbed with one another and nothing else. Much like the rest of the day. "Are you sick of me yet?" Alex jokingly asks her. He isn't sure of himself on many things but he's sure of this. She must be feeling everything he's feeling. She has to, right?

She sits atop his chest. "Never."

He pets his hand down her now unruly hair. It gives him intense pleasure to know he did that. She dances her fingers around his body, waist to shoulder. "What's sex in French?"

She smirks, returning to their old translation game. "Sex is sex. I mean, there's faire l'amour, which is make love."

"Faire l'amour," he repeats.

"There's se branler."

"Se branler."

"Which means to jerk off."

He pulls an offended face. "I just had sex with you. I'm not jerking anything off."

She giggles. "Fine, baise-moi," she offers.

"Baise-moi."

"Fuck me."

He laughs. "I'm not that quick."

"J'ai envie de toi," she says. "I want you." She curls into him. Her hair soft and arms tight.

The impending morning hangs over their heads like an anvil. "Are we ever going to see each other again?" He asks.

They aren't looking at each other anymore. She breaks eye contact with him to stare at the ceiling and his eyes soon follow to do the same. "I don't know. I have to be back tomorrow."

"Me too," Alex says. His thumb grazes back and forth on the corner of her shoulder.

"I don't want to do long distance," she confesses. "It always fades away. You know, two people say they'll keep in touch but that's never true. You send a few texts but then you're missing each other's calls and it's a mess. I don't want to do that with you."

"Me either," he agrees. He doesn't want to repeat history and he doesn't want to do that with someone like her. Someone who he's never felt this way before.

"If this was it, would you be okay with that?" She asks.

His head is screaming No, no I wouldn't be okay with that, screw those kids, stay with me. But he's not going to lose himself in fantasy so he nods. "If that's what you want."

She averts her eyes. She looks unsure of herself but doesn't say anything and tucks herself into him. "I don't know what I want."

He kisses the top of her head. "That's okay."

In the morning, those blinds they never closed allow the Sun to wake them up. Their limbs are thrown about around the other. Her eyes flutter and it's like a butterfly taking flight as she exposes those blues. She looks at him and starts laughing. Her hand drags across the side of his face. "You have lines all over your face."

He perks up at the sight of her and that laugh. "That means I had a good sleep."

She bites a grin. "I had a good sleep too." If you can call it that. They weren't paying the closest eye on time but he doesn't exactly feel like he slept for 8 hours straight. She leans up and kisses across his face and it's an eruption of giggles.

There's a feeling in the air that they might do it again but then her eyes catch something and she falls back. She bites her thumb, which he can tell is a habit when she doesn't want to say something. She exhales roughly. "I have to go now if I'm going make it back in time."

Alex can't say more than an "Okay."

She redressed and, soon after, he does too. There isn't much romance to the whole thing. Soon, they're making their way to the station. Not many words are spoken but halfway through the walk, she leans her head on his shoulder, and he thinks he might cry.

Her train leaves at 9:45, his at 10:15. It's 9:35. There are no words spoken but he follows her onto the platform in silent understanding. Her train is already there, taunting them.

She grabs both his hands and places them on her waist. She rubs her hands over his elbows. The station is full of noise but silence echoes. Then, she says, "I don't want to never see you again."

He lets out a breath, feeling air enter his lungs again. He leans his forehead down to hers. "I don't want that either."

She kisses him tight in a quick motion. She presses herself up against him completely and he holds her against him in the same manner, the finality of it rattling around them.

"Come to London," he wishes aloud.

She pauses any movement, breaths caught in her throat. She's stiff and unmoveable before shaking her head. "I can't do that."

He has to. He has to. He has to. "Yes, come on. You hate your job. You want to find a future. Find it in London."

"I like my life. I have friends—"

"You have friends in London," he recalls. "Come on, Lottie. Doesn't have to be forever." He's begging. He sounds pathetic, he must, but, my god, if she can get him to get on his train, then any begging is worth it.

Her eyes are filled with tears and the knife twists within him. She takes a deep breath. Then, perks up, and excitedly says, "What if—what if I visit in a couple of weeks? I'll sort everything out and then I'll visit."

He feels like someone punches him. "We'll be back on the road soon."

She deflates and her train is honking away. This can't be it. Both are thinking it.

Alex gets one last idea. "I'll be in Paris. In July. My band we're gonna be touring here. Come to the show."

She grabs a hold of him like he might float away. And he just might. "In July?"

"Yes," Alex confirms. "Arctic Monkeys is the name of the band. I'll reimburse you for the ticket and all that." He tries to end on a lighthearted note but the weight hangs heavy.

She smiles and kisses him. “Okay, I'll see you in July.”

Alex kisses her again. He has to savour it. Hold it completely in his hands, hold her, memorize the way she moves her lips against his. Last call for the train is shouted out and says, "See ya in July." He smiles hopefully and she returns it.

She goes to get on the train but turns back quickly. Kissing him tightly, hard, passionately, firework-erupting finale. "Have a good ride back and a good tour, Alex."

"You too, Lottie." It takes her laughing to realize his mistake. He slaps his forehead, which endears her completely as if she could be endeared anymore.

She squeezes his hand firmly. "I'll try my best." She steps aboard and gives him a final look before dropping his hand.

He lets it swing at his side. Watches her pick a window seat. Each party waves goodbye before the train pulls out of the station. Alex stands there for a moment. He can't think about it for too long. He'll be doing that the whole train ride. Every day until July. Every day after July. Until.

Alex catches his train back to London and he'll wait for her. And then wait some more.

[ratsoh-writes]

*PANIK MAYDAY MAYDAY HOT MAN SPEAKING CONTROL YOURSELF CHARLOTTE NOW IS NO TIME TO BLUSH FUCK ITS HAPPENING ANYWAY HHHHHHHHH THIS IS WHY I REFUSED TO MEET HIM*

*shy awkward smile*

Yes. He did indeed. Uhm. I cleaned it out so...

*sheepishly holds hand out to helios while trying desperately to maintain my last thread of composure-*

-wine simp

He takes your hand gently and you sigh as the sting of the cut ebbs away leaving a fresh white line on your hand like it had just finally lost its scab. Perfect

Helios: UH THATS NOT A SCAR?

Wine: NO, ITS NORMAL FOR HUMANS SKIN TO BE LIGHTER AROUND THE CUT, SHE’LL BE BACK TO NORMAL IN A FEW DAYS.

Helios’ shoulders sag in obvious relief lol. He doesn’t seem to know too much about human anatomy besides the basics

Helios and Artemis make their goodbyes to you and wine and head out, leaving you with the shopkeeper

Wine: OH, LITTLE HUMAN?

[gwendolynlerman]

Graded readers in German

Books marked with an asterisk (*) are not graded readers and therefore may not exactly correspond with the level under which they are listed.

A1

Adel und edle Steine by Felix & Theo

Anna by Klara & Theo

Anna, Berlin by Thomas Silvin

Claudia, Mallorca by Thomas Silvin

David, Dresden by Thomas Silvin

Der 80. Geburtstag by Theo Scherling

Der Superstar by Klara & Theo

Detektiv wider Willen by Klara & Theo

Die Neue by Leo & Co.

Donauwalzer by Felix & Theo

Ein Hundeleben by Leo & Co.

Ein Mann zu viel by Felix & Theo

Eine spezielle Band by Sabine Werner

Elvis in Köln by Felix & Theo

Erich ist verschwunden by Regine Böttcher and Susanne Lang

Eva, Wien by Thomas Silvin

Franz, München by Thomas Silvin

Gebrochene Herzen by Leo & Co.

Hamburg - hin und zurück by Felix & Theo

Julie, Köln by Thomas Silvin

Lara, Frankfurt by Thomas Silvin

Nora, Zürich by Thomas Silvin

Oh, Maria ... by Felix & Theo

Oktoberfest by Felix & Theo

Ruf der Waldgeister* by Ulf Blanck

Tina, Hamburg by Thomas Silvin

Vera, Heidelberg by Thomas Silvin

A2

Albert Einstein by Sabine Werner

Ausgetrickst by Klara & Theo

Barbara by Felix & Theo

Bild ohne Rahmen by Felix & Theo

Das fliegende Klassenzimmer* by Erich Kästner, Kurt Vethake, and Heinz Schimmelpfenning

Das Gold der alten Dame by Felix & Theo

Das Haus an den Klippen by Achim Seiffarth and Adalbert Stifter

Das Idealpaar by Leonhard Thoma

Das letzte Hindernis by Klara & Theo

Der Fall Schlachter by Felix & Theo

Der gestiefelte Kater. Das tapfere Schneiderlein by Jacob Grimm

Der Jaguar by Leo & Co.

Der letzte Kuss by Volker Borbein, Christian Baumgarten, and Thomas Ewald

Der Mond war Zeuge by Volker Borbein and Christian Baumgarten

Der Schützenkönig vom Chiemsee by Roland Dittrich

Der Tote im See by Charlotte Habersack

Die doppelte Paula by Klara & Theo

Die Loreley lebt! by Roland Dittrich

Die Rache des Computers by Regine Böttcher, Rosi Hinz, and Susanne Lang

Die Spur führt nach Bayern by Volker Borbein

Ebbe & Flut by Felix & Theo

Ein Fall auf Rügen by Felix & Theo

Einer singt falsch by Felix & Theo

Einstein und das tote Kaninchen by Klara & Theo

Faust by Franz Specht

Freude, Liebe, Angst by Volker Borbein and Christian Baumgarten

Gefährlicher Einkauf by Volker Borbein and Christian Baumgarten

Grenzverkehr am Bodensee by Felix & Theo

Haus ohne Hoffnung by Felix & Theo

Jeder ist käuflich by Volker Borbein and Marie-Claire Wieders-Lohéac

Kalt erwischt in Hamburg by Cordula Schurig

Lea? Nein danke! by Friederike Wilhelmi

Leipziger Allerlei by Felix & Theo

Liebe bis in den Tod by Volker Borbein and Christian Baumgarten

Mord auf dem Golfplatz by Felix & Theo

Müller in New York by Felix & Theo

Sicher ist nur eins by Franz Specht

Siegfrieds Tod by Franz Specht

Spuk im Nachbarhaus by Klara & Theo

Tatort Frankfurt by Felix & Theo

Tatort: Krankenhaus by Volker Borbein and Marie-Claire Wieders-Lohéac

Till Eulenspiegel by Jacqueline Tschiesche

Timo darf nicht sterben! by Charlotte Habersack

Tod in der Oper by Volker Borbein and Marie-Claire Wieders-Lohéac

Tödlicher Cocktail by Volker Borbein and Marie-Claire Wieders-Lohéac

Tödlicher Irrtum by Volker Borbein and Christian Baumgarten

Tödlicher Schnee by Felix & Theo

Tor ohne Grenzen by Christian Gellenbeck

B1

Besserwisser by Franz Specht

Das Herz von Dresden by Cordula Schurig

Das Mädchen, mit dem die Kinder nicht verkehren durften* by Irmgard Keun

Das Wunschhaus und andere Geschichten by Leonhard Thoma

Der Hundetraum und andere Verwirrungen by Leonhard Thoma

Der Passagier und andere Geschichten by Brigitte Braucek

Der rote Hahn by Franz Specht

Der Taubenfütterer und andere Geschichten by Leonhard Thoma

Die Angst und der Tod by Franz Specht

Die Blaumacherin by Leonhard Thoma

Die Fantasien des Herrn Röpke und andere Geschichten by Leonhard Thoma

Die Fälle des Kommissar Wagner by Uwe Plasger

Die ganze Wahrheit by Franz Specht

Die schöne Frau Bär by Franz Specht

Faust: das Volksbuch by Achim Seiffarth

Heiße Spür in München by Stefanie Wülfing

Schöne Augen by Franz Specht

Veronikas Gehimnis by Friedhelm Strack

Verschollen in Berlin by Gabi Baier

Wiener Blut by Gabi Baier

B2

100 Karten, die deine Sicht auf die Welt verändern* by Katapult

100 Karten über Sprache* by Katapult

Der Ruf der Tagesfische und andere Geschichten by Leonhard Thoma

Der Tote und das Mädchen* by Martina Bick

Herr der Diebe* by Cornelia Funke

C1

Atlas der verlorenen Sprachen* by Rita Mielke

Brigitta* by Adalbert Stifter

Das Feuerschiff* by Siegfried Lenz

Das Parfum. Die Geschichte eines Mörders* by Patrick Süskind

Der Besuch der alten Dame* by Friedrich Dürrenmatt

Der Hund. Der Tunnel. Die Panne* by Friedrich Dürrenmatt

Der Sandmann by E. T. A. Hoffmann

Die Bergwerke zu Falun* by E. T. A. Hoffmann

Die Physiker* by Friedrich Dürrenmatt

Die Verwandlung* by Franz Kafka

Effi Briest* by Theodor Fontane

Kleines Kuriositätenkabinett der deutschen Sprache* by Duden

[kingdomofvellia]

Singer: ♪I should be fine all by myself, end it and throw it away♪

Singer: ♪But I have never listened to you, only when I want my way♪

Singer: ♪You promise me more if we hold on, I fall for it all the time♪

Singer: ♪'Cause I don’t wanna see with someone else♪ Zara: ...

Singer: ♪I know that I can be forgotten anytime♪ Zara: *Sighs* Singer: ♪But please just hold me until everything’s alright♪

Singer: ♪You only call me when you’re drunk, I’ll always give you what you want♪ Zara: *Thinking* I need another drink... ???: Hey, watch it!

???: I mean- Oh my gosh! I am SO sorry! Are you okay? Zara: Y-yes! But I am the one who is sorry, I almost ran into you..! ???: No, like it was totally my fault, please forgive me!!

???: But I have to say, I LOVE your dress! Pink is sooo your colour! Zara: O-oh? Really? Thank you..! ???:  Is it next season Sallies Ebb? 

Zara: Wow, you’re good! - Yes it is! You’ve got an eye for designers, Miss..? ???: Oh, my name? Zara: If you don’t mind? ???: Not at all! I’m Charlotte Bersker!

Zara: Charlotte? I don’t think I saw a Charlotte on the guest list! Are you here with someone?  Charlotte: I mean... You could say...

Charlotte: It’s a little bit of an awkward situation! Zara: Haha, why? Charlotte: Well... I mean... 

Charlotte: I could tell you... but you have to be quiet about it. Zara: Now I am really intrigued! Charlotte: Promise, if he finds out I’m here mingling with you people he will kill me.

Zara: Why would he kill you? Charlotte: Because I am... sorta suppose to be on call tonight... Zara: ... On call?

Charlotte: Yes! - I am, kinda, here with Alexander..!

Zara: Alexander. Charlotte: Yeah, but you really can’t tell anyone, it’s like a huuuuuge secret between us! Okidoki? Zara: ...

Zara: ... I won’t tell anyone not involved. Charlotte: Great! By the way, I met a charming man called Silas, or something, do you know if he is of noble birth?

Charlotte: He asked me for a dance and I danced with him but then I saw Alexander dance with Shiloh and I had to dip!  Zara: ... Charlotte: Nooow I kinda want his number, but I cannot for the love of God figure out if he is... worth my time, haha!

Zara: Excuse me. Charlotte: I-I was only kidding! Zara: Don’t worry about that. Yes he is noble, you can ask Alice for his number.

Charlotte: Really? Zara: Yes, they are childhood friends. Charlotte: Oooh, also this goes without saying, but he is single, right? Zara: As far as I know.

Charlotte: You’re the best!! Thank you, Princess Zara! Zara: Don’t mention it.

*Door slams* Zara: *Thinking* Well, that explains everything.

Zara: I should have known he was into gold-digging skanks.

Zara: ... That son-of-a-bitch, when I see him, I’ll-! Alice: Zara! Zara: Ah, Alice!

Alice: Where are you going? Are you okay? Zara: Yes, I just need some air. I will be right back! Alice: Okay... 

Alice: I’ll leave you alone in a moment, I just... Have you seen Gunter tonight? Zara: Gunter? No, he is not here? Alice: I don’t think he is and...

Alice: He’s never missed one of my birthday’s before... Do you think he is okay? Zara: Is there a reason he shouldn’t be? Alice: Well, he is sorta ancient... and he didn’t contact us to let us know he was not attending.

Zara: I am sure he’s fine! Alice: You are? Zara: Yes! But if you’re that worried, why don’t you send for someone to check on him? Alice: I could do that...

Zara: You should, it will bring you some peace of mind as you need to get back to your party! Alice: I suppose. Zara: He’s fine, Alice, I’m sure!

Zara: He probably just overslept, or something!

[sirphillipcranestanaccount]

Hey friends, here’s a sneak peek of the next chapter of lost and found since it’s taking me a month to update it 🥲

Eloise approached the door to Phillip’s house with more trepidation than she ever had previously. Why? She wasn’t completely sure. She and the twins had been getting along famously. But then she thought of her father. She was almost the same age as the twins when her father died and she doubted that she would have been pleased if some strange man had swooped into their lives and taken up with her mother. But Violet and Edmund Bridgerton appeared to have a very different story than that of Phillip and Marina.

She knocked on the door and felt her worries ebb slightly when a smiling Phillip appeared on the other side.

“Hello there,” Phillip said leaning against the door frame, “how are you doing this evening?”

Eloise took a deep breath, “Good. Nervous, but good.”

“Eloise, you have nothing to worry about, they're the same kids,” he said, taking her hands in his and stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Yes, but am I the same Eloise to them?” she asked.

“Well, you look like the same Eloise you were last week,” he teased.

“Phillip that’s not what I meant and you know it,”

“I know but I can’t resist teasing you,” he smiled, “now come inside, the only way the twins will actually be upset with you is if you keep them waiting any longer” he took her hand and led her inside.

Eloise and Phillip had barely entered the main hallway when she heard two excited voices shout: “Eloise!” and before she knew it, two pairs of arms were wrapped around her hips.

“Well, hello you two!” she said with a giggle of surprise.

“Eloise, I finished Charlotte’s Web! Remember you said we could talk about it when I finished it?” Amanda said.

“And I finished James and the Giant Peach!” Oliver added.

“I had a feeling I wouldn’t have to worry about late fees when I let you guys use my library card,” she laughed.

“Oh we also got Sheldon a tank!” Amanda said.

“Sheldon?” Eloise asked, looking at Phillip.

“Surely you remember Sheldon, the crustacean friend you introduced us to?” Phillip smiled.

“Oh my god, you actually kept it?” Eloise laughed.

“Of course!” he said. Phillip wanted to follow this statement up with, “how could I get rid of something that made me start falling in love with you?” but he couldn’t. If he told her that he loved her and she didn’t reciprocate, he was quite sure his heart would be broken beyond repair. No, for now he’d just continue to enjoy her company, no need to complicate things.

Phillip’s reverie was interrupted by the beep of his oven timer.

“Oh, that’s dinner,” he said, shaking his head back into consciousness, “I’ll be right back.”

“Let me help you!” Eloise said, “Guys can I go help your Dad finish dinner?” she asked the two children still attached to her hip.

“Why?” Amanda said in a slightly whiny voice.

“Because, the faster we get dinner out, the sooner I can talk to you about Charlotte’s Web and James and the Giant Peach” Eloise replied.

“Ugh, fine,” Amanda replied, dropping her arms. Oliver soon followed suit. The twins then ran into the living room.

“I see what you were worried about Eloise, they despise you,” Phillip joked as they walked into the kitchen.

[flutistbyday-1]

Maybe Chapter Two

Marital Law

We see how Liam came to his decision and Riley has an unexpected ally.

Rating: M for cussing and sexual material

Word count: 1300 ish

September the Fifteenth

Liam didn’t even know how to respond. Neville, the sniveling ass hat he was, had just barged into Liam‘s office, throwing down a law book onto his desk.

The title of this particular book was Marital Laws of Cordonian Nobility. The fact that this book existed was one thing, but the fact that it was almost four hundred pages was another.

Neville slammed the book down, already having the book open to the page he was showing Liam.

“There,” Neville declared triumphantly. “This states that Dukes and Duchesses must be married within two years of claiming their title—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Neville,” Liam warned.

Neville took a step back, threatened by the Kong’s tone.

“Your Majesty, I just think—”

“That will be enough, Neville.”

Liam stood, his tall, muscular frame overshadowing Neville’s. His face was stern causing Neville sunk back even further. What a weak man, Liam sneered to himself.

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” Neville stated as he bowed deeply. “I do, however, think you should read this chapter carefully. Your title is at steak, too.” Neville bowed again, taking his leave.

Liam sat down to read and reread the chapter. It was airtight— Riley must become a bride and Liam must choose a bride, and soon.

He thought he had secured making an heir, at least, but Riley had flipped shit on him. He thought Riley would blindly obey him, like most women he encountered. Riley was different, though. She was an enigma to him.

He loved Riley deeply and wished she would just love him as much.

Liam sighed deeply, pushing the book away from him. The air seemed thick and heavy now, the weight of his conscience seeming to ebb into the environment. His head hurt now, making his heartbeat echo in his skull. He picked up the book and threw it against the wall opposite of his desk. The book crashed into a vase which exploded spectacularly, into several pieces. The sound of the glass shattering pulled Liam out of his trance.

“I can’t believe I have to do this,” Liam whispered to himself. He slammed his fist into the desk, finding satisfaction when the impact made the desk splinter.

Liam didn’t have a choice, however.

September the twenty sixth

Hana woke before Riley, Duke Ramsford at her side of the bed, whining impatiently. Hana stretched before getting out of bed. Her head hurt from the tears she had shed, her eyes were heavy, and her heart ached. Hana knew, deep down inside, that Riley may choose anyone else.

Hana yawned as she lifted herself out of the bed and donned a robe. She stole Riley’s slippers as she slipped out of the bedroom.

Duke followed her impatiently, dancing around her feet. “Yes, yes. I see you,” she said to the dog. “Mara?” She called out, peering down the stairs. She didn’t hear a response so she set down the stairs herself.

The air was cold, not unlike last night. Hana pulled her robe tighter around herself, shivering slightly. There were no other sounds in the house, so the sound of Duke’s nails clattering against the floor and her footsteps echoed loudly.

Hana decided not to brave the weather, hoping Duke would stay close, and just opened the door to let the dog out.

Riley and Hana ate lunch in an awkward silence.

Riley didn’t know what to say; Hana didn’t have anything to say.

Riley was embarrassed that her hormones got the best of her the night before— she’d never slept with anyone, let alone a woman.

She had made out with Liam once or twice, and there was heavy petting then, but they never took off clothing. She had kissed Drake once, and Maxwell had never kissed her besides on her forehead.

“Riley, are you okay?” Hana asked.

Riley set down her fork. She had been pushing the food around her plate, not actually eating. Her stomach was upset from her emotions running rampant.

“I’m just tired, Hana.” Riley sighed deeply and placed her napkin on her plate. “I’ve been dealing with a lot, between Liam and my Dutchy—”

Hana leaned over the table and kissed Riley chastely, taking her hand simultaneously. “It’s okay, Riley. We’ll figure this out together.”

Riley looked up at Hana, who was so calm and reassuring. It made her tear up— good tears this time.

September the twenty seventh

“I’m just saying Hana—”

“And I’m just saying, it’s not your choice!”

Hana and Riley were arguing for about the fifth time that day.

No matter how they went about the conversation, it always spiked Riley’s temper.

Hana was seething.

The two women stood a good five feet away from each other, gauging reactions.

Riley was apologizing for the position she had put Hana in, while Hana claimed Riley had done nothing of the sort.

“I’m a big girl, Riley! I can make my own decisions!” Hana marched toward Riley. “God damnit, just let me—”

Riley smashed her lips to Hana’s. The passion in Hana's eyes turned her on. She had only seen Hana this mad once before, and she was turned on then, too.

Riley snaked her hands through Hana’s hair and pulled her head back roughly.

Hana moaned quietly. She was confused by the sudden change in Riley’s demeanor, but she didn’t care. She loved how Riley made her feel incredibly sexy. Nobody else had ever made her feel like this.

“I’m sorry,” Riley whispered passionately as she kissed Hana’s neck with fervor. “I don’t ever want to make you feel like I don’t respect your decisions.” Riley bit Hana’s neck gently.

Hana melted into Riley’s arms, moaning lightly.

September the thirty first

Riley lay in bed, the events from the past week unfolding in her mind. She and Hana fought the second to last day of her visit and Riley honestly felt guilty. Honestly, the fight that started the twenty seventh just spilled into the following two days.

Riley insisted Hana didn’t have to put herself out there, Hana insisted that Riley didn’t have to look out for her.

Riley felt guilty for pitting her four closest friends together for her heart. It wasn’t fair, and she knew it. The guilt Riley felt ate her alive. It made her anxious, jumpy, and nauseous.

She hadn’t had a real meal since the seventeenth. Riley had lost about ten pounds, her already frail form even smaller.

Charlotte doted on her Duchess, worried sick. Riley waved Charlotte away every time she expressed worry, saying, “I could stand to lose a few pounds anyhow.” Still, the maid fussed over her, eventually calling Olivia, of all people.

Olivia called late in the evening, demanding an answer from Riley. “What the hell does Charlotte mean, you aren’t eating?” Her voice was angry but concerned.

“I may have lost ten pounds,” Riley admitted. There was no point in lying to Olivia.

“And, pray tell, why aren’t you eating?”

Tears pricked Riley’s eyes. “Oh, Liv,” she said as she choked back a sob. “It’s not a simple answer.”

“I have time,” Olivia quipped, dryly.

Riley explained the whole situation, from the day she and Liam played chess to the minute Hana left her Duchy.

Olivia said nothing the entire time, save for a few noises to let Riley know she was still there. When Riley finished, Olivia was quiet.

“Olivia?” Riley asked.

“I’m here,” Olivia answered quietly. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, her usual biting tone was back. “I’ll kill him myself, Riley. It’s unfair of him and he knows it.”

Riley could feel the anger Olivia emitted through the phone. “I know, Liv,” she mewed.

Olivia was silent once more. “I’ll speak with him,” she said with determination.

Riley didn’t have the energy to fight. “Okay,” she whispered.

“And, Riley?”

“Yes, Liv?”

“Eat some food, for Christ’s sake.”

[insane-control-room]

Axolotl

A random au I came up with 

Ft. the astounding @startistdoodles‘ Jekyll, Hyde, MJ, Ivy, and Henry

ao3 link

They were similar, weren’t they?

Johan ran as fast as he could, slamming into the barrier between worlds over and over, banging on the walls binding him. He had to stop Jekyll. He had seen into the other worlds and knew how greatly the man would regret his actions.

With a scream, he pounded against the invisible barrier. A glimmering crack appeared. His eyes brightened, and he tore at it, and managed to rip it enough to pull his way through.

He felt his strength ebb as he landed on the floor of Hyde’s ink machine room, and he coughed and hacked, feeling his… illness bubble in his chest. He hoped that the pathogen could not spread through dimensions, otherwise, he simply doomed another world. Sobbing footsteps approached, and Johan forced his coughs to become silent, tears welling in his eyes as his lungs burned and his throat constricted. He edged his way to a wall, pulling himself up, catching his breath. Jekyll, carrying MJ’s weakening form, stumbled past him.

He stretched out a hand to put it on Jekyll’s shoulder.

“Don’t.” he managed to say.

Jekyll spun around, the skirt of Mary Jane’s night dress twirling around him. Her eyes were shut tight, breathing slow and choppy. Jekyll’s tears dripped onto her.

“Don’t…” Johan repeated, going onto his knees, his voice high and pleading. “Please. I can heal her. Just don’t do this to her, t-to yourself.”

“Johan….” Jekyll said, his voice empty and reverberating. Mary Jane’s eyes batted open, and her eyes landed on the partially blue haired man. “Uncle Jo…?”

“Please.”

Jekyll looked at his daughter, then at the man kneeling before him.

Would he not have given anything to heal her?

No, his mind hissed. Stick to something you know will work. Stick to yourself.

But his heart murmured, trust him. He loves Mary Jane, too. Trust him.

Jekyll looked to the ink machine, and felt his skin crawl. MJ’s heart beat against his chest. How could he take that away from her, from his own daughter? All he had left of Charlotte? How could he? How dare he even think of such a fate?

“Fine,” he closed his eyes. He sensed Johan rising, hearing his clothes rustle. Slender and long arms wrapped around him, and gently took Mary Jane from his arms. The hug seemed to linger, and a weighted seemed to evaporate from his shoulders. Jekyll’s eyes opened, and he saw Johan looking at him expectantly, holding MJ carefully and lovingly. Jekyll swallowed. “Well?”

Johan nodded, and summoned a bed with his weakening strength, cautiously setting MJ on it. He sat beside her, and closed her eyes with two fingers. Her breathing relaxed and became even. Johan glanced up at Jekyll, nervously, twisting away so the older would not see him pull out the small swiss knife, slicing the tips of both middle fingers, and then gently tapping each globule of drawn blood onto Mary Jane’s temples. He leaned close to her, and whispered a soft song as he manipulated his blood to merge with hers, and searched her body from within for the malady. He began to tremble, then shake, as his strength dropped away, faster and faster. But he continued to heal her, forming the bits and flecks of illness into a new being, a good thing, a darling sheep. She began forming in his lap as he went on with his work, a jelly bean baby glowing gently with the bright sparks of Mary Jane’s soul that ebbed into her. Ivy soon yawned, much to Jekyll’s shock, and Mary Jane opened her eyes, and smiled.

“I feel much better now, papa,” she told Jekyll, pushing herself up in the bed. Jekyll thought he might faint from joy. Ivy yawned again, and Mary Jane looked at her. “Oh! Goodness! Well, aren’t you adorable!”

Johan smiled with fatigue, passing the little sheep from his lap to Mary Jane’s.

“I can’t believe it,” Jekyll gasped, pushing up his glasses, eyes wide. “Why, if it isn't Ivy! And Mary Jane, are you sure you’re better?”

He pressed a hand to her forehead. Good. Held her hand. Soft, no trembling. Put a head to her chest. Steady, thrumming heartbeat.

“Papa, I’m fine,” she laughed, hugging his head. He hugged her back tightly. “Uncle Jo made me feel all better.”

“That’s right!” Jekyll snapped to reality, looking at her, then turned to look at the young man beside them. “How can I ever…”

Ink dripped from Johan’s lips.

“Thank…”

His eyes were dull, and hazy.

“You….”

Jekyll vaulted over the bed, barely managing to get to Johan in time to stop him from falling flat on the floor in a dead faint.

Horror welled up in Jekyll.

“What did you do?” he demanded from Johan in a whisper. Johan’s eyes pried open, and he smiled slightly, leaning his head against Jekyll’s chest, nodding into a sleep. Jekyll shook him awake, and he pouted at him. “Johan! What did you do!?”

“I healed her,” he wheezed, ink bubbling out of his throat. He coughed violently, smiling up at Jekyll softly. “And I’ll heal you, too. Promise me you’ll take care of the girls, and get a solid, steady job, without any of the, um… bloodshed, okay?”

“Uncle Jo? What are you talking about?” Mary Jane hugged Ivy tightly, confused. Johan looked at her. “... Uncle Jo…?”

“Love you, MJ, Ivy, so much,” he murmured, and gripped Jekyll’s arm tightly. “Try not to move too much, okay Da?”

“Joha-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Jekyll felt his skin burn, and the constant hissing in his mind turned to shrieking, his head feeling like it would tear apart into thousands of millions of little pieces.

God, what was happening to him?

He felt Hyde tear at his mind, trying to keep a hold on him, but was torn away.

He gasped, feeling MJ’s small hands on his shoulders, shaking him intensely, calling, “Papa, stop it, papa, you’re hurting yourself!”

His hands eased from the top of his head.

Silence.

Blissful, peaceful silence.

Mary Jane’s eyes looked at him, big and worried. Ivy’s as well. The two gave him a great big hug.

A cough.

Another, and another. The three turned to look at Johan, who gasped and panted on his hands and knees, choking on ink and blood. Horns curled around his head, inky and dark, dying tufts of white and blue hair black, grey, and indigo.

Bright, magical, unearthly purple eyes.

“Johan…?” Jekyll asked, reaching toward him with one hand, the other arm holding Mary Jane and Ivy tightly. The thing that shivered on the floor, dripping ink, looked up at him with a slight whine, shirking away. Their eyes met, and a big goofy smile spread across the being’s face. He leaned up against Jekyll’s hand, giggling childishly, then coughed, flinching away.

Jekyll stared.

The thing stared back, and giggled again, a hacking, chuckling, wrong giggle.

“This would’ve been her,” he said, rasping, glitching, wavering. He giggled again. Silence resided, aside from the small gaps of gasping giggles. “Woulda been you.”

Something seemed so… fitting.

Jekyll hated the feeling.

His arms tightened around his daughters.

An anger filled Johan’s eyes, turning them red.

“Go!” he ordered, standing, looming above them. “Never come back! Close this place, hide it, sell it to be d-destroyed! Go! G-Go!”

Jekyll stumbled back.

Johan coughed again and again, doubling over. He looked up at Jekyll pleadingly.

“Go…” he whispered, head butting him gently. “I love you, Da.”

Jekyll ran out as fast as he could, whether out of obedience or fear, he could not tell.

Once he was at home, panting and shaking, his girls clinging to him, he slid down the door.

“Go to bed, stardust, moonlight,” he said in a voice that did not feel like his own. They nodded, and slipped away to Mary Jane’s room. He would have to buy a bunk bed, he dully realized in the back of his mind. Huh. He touched his face, finding thin traces of dirty tears.

The last thing Johan, for it was Johan, it could not be anything else, it was Johan, the last thing he said to him, it rang in his mind, over and over.

And he wept.

He wept, and cried, and did not move till morning light, when Henry pulled the door open, and he fell out against his brother’s knees.

Henry tried to ask him what was wrong, and then, fearing the worst, peered into Mary Jane’s room, and upon seeing Ivy and Mary Jane there together, his mouth dropped open in shock.

He looked down at the exhausted appearing Jekyll.

Henry helped him to his feet, and immediately was enveloped in a hug.

“Johan, Johan,” Joey moaned, his tears still dropping down his face like stars. “What did you do, what did you do….”

Henry was confused, but still hugged his brother back tightly.

“He’s gone,” Joey lamented, shaking as Henry carefully led him to his room, setting him in his bed. “Gone, gone…”

“Calm down, Joey,” Henry instructed, thinking it must have been about a friend of Joey’s, maybe one of their employees. “It’s okay, right? We still have the studio, right?”

Joey shook his head slowly.

Close it down, Johan had told him. Destroy it.

But his heart could not bear the thought. And what about Johan? There had to be a way.

“What do you mean, no?” Henry asked cautiously, tilting his head as he tried to push Joey back into bed. “You’re delirious. We can talk about this in the morning. Well, later morning.”

“Barricade the ink machine,” Joey said, almost in a daze. “Lock it away. Don’t let anyone see it. Block it off, hide it, cover it up. Make sure no one ever finds out about it or even gets a reason to suspect it even ever existed.”

“Um… okay?” Henry nodded slightly, confused why Joey would want to hide away his prided machine, wondering where Ivy came from. “Will do.”

Jekyll’s determination waxed.

He would bring Johan back, no matter what it would take.

[do-not-call-me-meathead]

aposiopesis (part 7)

My Orphan Black fic on AO3

part 1  part 2  part 3  part 4  part 5  part 6

@agoddamnsupernova

Cosima felt restless at the Rabbit Hole. She received phone call after phone call from Delphine, but she declined every time. She knew that it wasn’t the blonde’s fault that Siobhan was dead, but she couldn’t help but still be furious at the woman. She wondered if there would have been something they could have done if Delphine had just been honest with everyone. She wondered if they could have saved her.

Siobhan.

(Besides, she also felt guilty. About Sarah and her unresolved feelings for the punk. She wondered if this was cheating.)

She wished she could have been at the funeral. She wished she could have been at the wake. She wished she could be holding hands with Sarah and reassuring her that everything was going to be okay. (And deep down, she needed reassurances too).

When she joined a group video call with Sarah, she wasn’t expecting more bad news. She hadn’t expected Helena to have been kidnapped or Gracie somehow being involved. She had hoped that with the release of all the Neolution shit to the public, they would have a chance to breathe. To cope. To heal.

Sarah sounded stressed, alert, and angry. She had already lost her mother. She couldn’t lose her twin too.

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

The plan was almost too insane, even for Cosima. Sarah was a talented con-artist, but Cosima couldn’t imagine that she could convince Mathieson that she was Rachel for that long of a period. She wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay but...

The waiting was the worst part. Her head swarmed with worst-case scenarios. She knew there was nothing she could do, but she felt like she was twiddling her thumbs while Sarah was risking her life. She just needed everyone to come back out alive.

She called Sarah shortly before she had to become Rachel Duncan. She sounded angry and frustrated as she talked about what she would do to John Mathieson if she could. Cosima tried to divert the conversation. She didn’t want that to be their last conversation if… something happened.

"Everyone’s riskin’ their lives for me."

“Actually, it’s technically for Helena, but sure. People love you, Sarah.”

She paused for a second. "I think Beth would do this. I hear her voice when I talk."

Cosima didn’t quite know what she meant by that, but it concerned her. “Sarah, you’re going to be alright. You’re going to grab our Sestra and get the hell out of there.”

"If we don’t get out, save the babies. Come back for them. Don’t let them grow up like we did, yeah?”

Cosima shuddered. This almost felt like a goodbye and she cringed that she moved their conversation to this horrifying point.

“Of course we will, Sarah, but you’ll save them.”

"Take Charlotte in, I dunno. Tell her our stories. Tell Kira--” her voice broke, “tell Kira about survival and love. Don’t let Cal take her away. She needs you all. She has to learn that sometimes, runnin’ ain’t the answer."

“God, please, Sar. Don’t talk like this. It’s going to all be fine.”

She heard Sarah force a chuckle and said, "Cheers, my favorite optimist." She hung up.

Cosima didn’t try to read that far into Sarah’s small speech as she waited for news on the mission with Felix, Delphine, Alison, Kira, Charlotte, and Donnie. They surrounded the phone, hoping for a call from Scott or Art or Sarah to tell them that everything was fine.

Occasionally, Alison would anxiously stand up and offer to get people food and water and would ramble about what it would be like to have two babies in her house. No one told her to stop. Or to continue. Everyone else just sat in silence, clinging near to each other, ready for the news that they could all breathe again.

Donnie kept trying to comfort his wife. She would accept his embrace only to quickly move away so that she could continue to pace and talk. He watched her carefully, ready to help her if she falls apart.

Cosima kept her head rested on Delphine’s shoulder. Delphine was calm in this situation. If she was terrified, she kept it all on the inside so that she could be there for Cosima. The dreaded scientist loved the blonde for that. She even forgot all about her misguided anger toward her. In those long moments, they were in love.

Kira, who knew vaguely about what was going on (Sarah told her about having to save Helena from bad people at Neolution), was sitting on Felix’s lap, her head laying gently on his chest. His legs were moving up and down with anxiety, but Kira didn’t seem to mind.

When they got the call, everyone jumped. It was Felix who answered, and after a few seconds, tears were running down his face ambiguously. Despite all of their angry pleas for him to tell them what was going on, he continued to talk to whoever was on the phone until they hung up.

Cosima felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, barely breathing. She knew she wouldn’t be able to breathe until she knew Sarah was alright.

Felix put his phone down and smiled. “That was Sarah. Everyone’s okay. They’re on the way to the hospital. Helena gave birth to two beautiful boys. They want us to meet them there.”

The cheers only lasted a few seconds; they were itching to see their family. They all ran to Alison’s minivan and chatted almost excitedly about what Helena’s sons would look like and act like and become.

Art, Scott, and Hell Wizard were there in the waiting room when they arrived, buzzing with cheer and hope. After hugs were spread around by all, Art tried to explain what happened. Helena killing Coady. Surviving guards and Enger. Sarah killing John Mathieson. Helena giving birth.

“The doctors tried to check Sarah out, but she didn’t let them, of course. Had to make sure that Helena and the babies were alright.” Art chuckled and added, “I can’t even tell the babies apart and I helped deliver them.”

One by one, they visited the two sets of twins. Both Helena and Sarah looked exhausted, but they couldn’t stop talking to each new visitor. Cosima noticed Helena’s motherly glow. But more than that, she noticed the shadow behind Sarah’s smile.

Sarah killed someone.

No one talked about it. Referenced it. Maybe even thought about it besides Cosima. She knew it was out of self defense, but she couldn’t imagine doing the act. Ever. She couldn’t imagine how the punk was feeling. She wanted to hold her until she felt alright.

“Sestra crazy-hairs, want to hold my baby?” Helena asked the scientist as she held out one of the sleeping babies as Alison and Sarah ogled the other baby.

“Oh, um,” Cosima was never really that comfortable with babies. Kira and Charlotte were about her maximum threshold. “I don’t--”

“Please,” Helena muttered with a tired smile. “I would like my babies to know all my sestras. They will not make same mistakes I did.”

“That won’t happen, meathead. Cos, I can help you if you’d like.”

Cosima nodded vehemently and Sarah grinned. She gently picked up the baby (as Helena stated, “do not call me this,”) with the orange booties and held him as she walked over to Cosima. It all looked so natural to Sarah as she held the baby in her arms. Like he belonged there.

“Look, he’s sleepin’. Not so scary, yeah?”

Cosima blushed slightly. “Obvs. I’m not scared, it's just like... memento mori, I guess.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “No more bloody science.”

“No, not science, Sarah. Not really. It’s a latin phrase. But you’re right. It’s not the place.”

“Don’t try to distract me with your brilliance, Cos. C’mon. He won’t bite. Not till he’s teethin’, at least.”

Alison mumbled in the background, “let’s hope they don’t have their mother’s hunger.”

Cosima lowered her voice so only Sarah could listen. “I’m afraid to drop him.”

Sarah moved closer to the scientist and said, “you won’t drop him. He’s your nephew, Niehaus. Precious cargo. You won’t. Hold your hands like this.”

Cosima tried to copy Sarah’s movements. She wasn’t quite comfortable, but Sarah placed the little human in her arms anyway. He weighed less than she had expected a baby to weigh. He barely even moved a muscle in her arms. She thought it was almost like he didn’t mind being there. But still, she didn’t like it.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah reassured her as Cosima passed her the baby back. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Yes, you will love it,” Helena agreed with a stiff head nod. “As much as you love the science.”

Cosima chuckled and looked at her family. Helena might have been right. She already did love them more than science.

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

Cosima flopped onto the bed and felt her head spin. The day seemed to ebb and flow with the change of time. Some moments felt excruciatingly slow, others felt like they were the speed of light. She almost jumped into a mind fuck about the non-existence of linear time when she felt a hand on her arm.

“You look happy,” Delphine commented as she laid down next to her and closed the space between them.

“It’s over, you know? Like actually. I mean, we have work to do with getting this cure to the other Ledas, but… I mean we can breathe.”

Delphine hummed in agreement. “End of an era, time to move on. A change of scene, yes?”

“I guess so. It means we can also be a family. Everyone can raise their kids in peace. Also, holy crap Helena’s a mom.”

Laughter flooded out of the blonde’s mouth. “She is. She will be a good one, I think. She has Alison and Sarah as good examples and help. They will be okay.”

“They all seem like natural mothers. And to me… babies are… uncomfortable. They’re so young and innocent. I mean, I can’t even talk about science with them yet.”

“But one day they will be old enough. Hopefully, Orange and Purple will have names by then.”

Cosima grinned. “Don’t you like the names? It’s like, non-traditional.”

Delphine smiled gently and told her, “You do love them. You just don’t like how vulnerable they are. That's what scares you."

Cosima nodded and wondered how Delphine could see straight through her sometimes. “It’s like… there’s no control. Anything can happen.”

“There are things out of your control, ma chérie. Death, life, love. This is something you can’t force. Which is why… I do not push you.”

Cosima inhaled deeply. The last thing she wanted was for this conversation to go this way. She was almost positive that she wanted to be with Delphine, but there was a sliver of doubt. Doubt seeded in the strong and confusing feelings she felt for Sarah.

Cosima kissed her. It felt good. She was used to her lips, her taste, her heat. She didn’t burn like Sarah. It was calm and comforting. Passionate but logical. Nothing like how it was with Sarah.

Holding Sarah. Touching Sarah. Kissing Sarah. It felt like being on fire.

“I love you, Delphine. I do. It’s just… I still need a few things to figure out, alright? In the meantime, can’t we just kiss a little?”

Delphine grinned. “We can always do a little more than a little.”

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

Helena moved into Alison’s garage (Cosima even thought that Alison and Donnie were secretly thrilled to have her there). She and the babies seemed to fit in with the Hendrix’s. Besides, with all the attention Alison and Donnie gave the twins, it already seemed like raising them would be a joint effort.

Felix went to New York with plenty of success, leaving Sarah and Kira home with the possibility of them selling Siobhan’s house. Sarah had kept away most of the time from the family and clone club. Shortly after the birth of Helena’s twins, it became obvious that Sarah wasn’t okay. The happiness that the war was over quickly ran out and reality stepped in. They had to keep living with all the terrible things that they had gone through. They had to live with what they had to do to survive.

She became touchy at any mention of anyone helping her. Even with trying to get her GED. Those were practically the only moments that Cosima got to spend with her. Through video chat and studying.

Not that Cosima could really blame her. They hadn’t seriously spoken since their strange nights together in Sarah's bed. There was still something there, something unspoken between them, but neither of them talked about it. Especially with Delphine being there in the picture.

When Cosima moved into Delphine’s apartment, Sarah pulled away even farther. Charlotte split her time between Art’s and Cosima’s. The scientist might have not been great with babies, but her bond to her genetic identical was unmistakable. Delphine wasn’t too happy that her tiny apartment was now being shared with more than one person, though she had told Cosima her restlessness resided in the fact that there was not enough room in the apartment. Delphine offered to find a new place to live, but that conversation terrified Cosima.

Felix had called her the day before he was going to return home from New York.

"How’s Sarah?" He asked her as if he thought they were constantly communicating.

“I’m not sure,” Cosima confessed as she headed for a different bedroom so that they could talk privately. “We don't… she’s avoiding me. Avoiding everyone.”

Felix breathed out, sounding stressed. "I’m worried. This is what she’s like before she runs."

“You think she’ll run?”

"I think she wants to. We gotta convince her not to. This is her home."

She said she would try, but to be honest, she was terrified to have a real conversation with her. She was afraid she would just admit something she still didn't understand. She was afraid she would admit that there were some moments where she still just wanted to kiss her.

Felix’s words about her messing with Sarah replayed in her mind. It took everything to not say something. To Sarah or even Delphine. She thought staying away from Sarah would be good for both of them. But she knew she couldn’t avoid her any longer.

Cosima stared at the ‘For Sale’ sign in front of the house that Cosima had loved, even if she hadn’t spent much time there. This is what she’s like before she runs. Cosima shivered. She couldn’t imagine her life without the punk.

It was Kira who opened the door and immediately embraced her. Cosima held her and squeezed her tightly. She felt like she hadn’t seen her in such a long while. It made her feel guilty.

“Hey, monkey. Whatcha up to?”

Kira shrugged with a kind of sadness that Cosima hadn’t been expecting. “Packing mostly. Mum’s in the shower, but she’ll be out in a second. C’mon inside.”

There were boxes everywhere when Cosima entered the house. She gulped. This is what she’s like before she runs. 

“Kira, are you excited to see all your cousins at the baby shower tomorrow?” Cosima asked and sat down on the couch with the young girl.

Kira nodded vigorously. “I can’t wait to go to Auntie Alison’s. Mum doesn’t really… go out. Art sometimes brings over Charlotte and sometimes Auntie Alison comes over but… mum’s really lonely.”

Cosima chewed on her lip. She felt like this was her fault. She knew this was her fault. She thought the separation would be good. That they’d be able to one day come together without any feelings.

“Kira, I should have come over more often. I’ll do that now, okay?”

The young girl shrugged and looked down at her feet. “It doesn’t matter. We’re leaving soon.”

This is what she’s like before she runs.

“How soon?”

“I don’t know. Mum wants to leave.”

“Do you?”

Kira shook her head. “But I want her to be happy. She’s not… I can feel her. Something’s wrong. With you too, Auntie Cosima.”

Cosima tilted her head. “What?”

“There’s something missing,” Kira explained and rested her head on Cosima’s lap. “You miss my mum and she misses you.”

“Cosima?” Sarah called out as she stood on the stairs wearing only a tank top and short shorts, her hair dripping slowly onto the hardwood floors. “What the bloody hell are you doin’ here?”

Cosima immediately stood up. Sarah looked pale, skinny, hollow. This wasn’t new for the punk, but it worried the scientist that she was still like this, even after everything was over.

“I wanted to see both of you. I--what are you bringing to Alison’s tomorrow?”

Sarah almost smirked. “She told me to just bring the alcohol. ‘Parently I’m not even allowed near the kitchen.”

“Alison’ll want to do all the cooking anyway,” Cosima chuckled awkwardly. “I one time made a cheese dip and she flipped. But hey, man, at least we don’t have to cook. You won’t have that much time with your test tomorrow anyway. Do you want to study--?”

“Actually, we gotta do some packin’. So, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh,” Cosima muttered, realizing that Sarah was trying to get her out of the house. “Yeah, of course. Don’t want to distract you. But um, I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah? Maybe Helena’s come up with some names.”

Sarah nodded and then began to walk back upstairs. Obviously, Cosima wasn’t welcome. Which didn’t surprise the scientist since she was the one who abandoned Sarah so that she could continue to love Delphine.

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

Sarah didn’t smile. There were moments where she tried, when she pretended, but she couldn’t fool Cosima. Actually, she couldn’t fool anyone. It was almost as if everyone had reached their threshold with staying silent about her. There was so much worry, so much concern.

She heard Sarah and Alison talk about Helena and the twins, but Sarah looked lost in the conversation.

Art was probably the brave one. “How are you doing, Sestra?”

“I’m good.”

“No, you’re not.”

He broke the silence and everyone sighed from relief. Sarah looked frustrated, annoyed, maybe even a little angry.

“Well, what is this we hear about a 'For Sale' sign on the front lawn?” Alison asked her with more guts that Cosima would have expected.

Sarah groaned. “You know that we were thinking about that.”

The soccer mom narrowed her eyes at the punk. “Playdates, the kids. Gemma, Kira, Charlotte, Maya, they’re all bonding. They like each other.” Donnie tried to butt in with saying his wife’s name, but she ignored him. “You know they’re having fun. What? What? This is what we fought for, right? To be sisters? It’s a good thing.”

Cosima knew that was a big deal for Alison to say something like that. She knew that the soccer mom cared about the other sestras, but at the beginning, she knew that Alison didn’t want to be a part of it all. She didn’t want to know her clones. They were all nuisances in her life. But now, she loved them. She wanted to be with them. It broke Cosima’s heart.

Sarah looked torn between emotions. “Yeah, it’s good. We just need a change. Freedom looks different to everyone.”

Alison sighed sympathetically. “Honey, we feel your loss. But Kira has cousins now.”

Rage flooded Sarah’s face and Cosima knew she was going to blow. “She has a stable home in the house where her grandmother was shot dead! Alison, take a bloody cue for once!” Her loud words echoed through the walls and she frowned as she saw Alison’s reaction. She lowered her voice and looked upset with herself. “Sorry.”

She got up and left the room. Alison mouthed that she was sorry to the rest of the group, but no one blamed her. Someone needed to say something. Even if it was kind of harsh.

Cosima barely thought about it. She followed Sarah outside and found her brooding on a chair. She wanted to wrap her arms around her, hold her tight, beg her to stay and believe in herself again. Believe in Cosima.

But she didn’t do any of that.

“Is it cool if I chill with you?”

Sarah barely reacted.

Alison came out, apologetic. Sarah reacted, apologetic. Helena joined them, worried. Sarah reacted, trying to hang on.

“I didn’t go to my test,” Sarah confessed after a few moments. Cosima wanted to tell her that it was alright, that she could try again, but Sarah surprisingly continued. “That’s good, innit? Lyin’ to my own kid. Same shit.” Her voice broke and tears flooded her eyes. Cosima wanted to hold her. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I carry around all these mistakes… I don’t know how to be happy.” She was crying and her voice was shaking. Cosima just wanted-- “There’s no one left to fight, and I’m still a shit mum.”

Cosima wanted to argue with her. Tell her that she was wrong. Tell her that she was a good mom and that they’d be there for her. Love her. Help her.

Alison beat her to it. “You know the other day, Gemma was driving me so crazy. I screamed at her, I said, ‘If you don’t clean up your room, I am going to string you up by your thumbs and stuff your dirty damn sock balls in your mouth.’ And I meant it. I scared her.”

And before she knew it, Helena started talking too. “Every time I look, the baby’s eating sand. I turn around, sand. Where does this sand come from? I don’t know. So, I let them eat it.”

“What?” Alison asked as everyone else laughed at Helena’s confession.

Finally, Cosima added, “Did you guys see how panicked I got when Felix handed me the baby earlier? Like, I am just not maternal at all. And that makes me wonder, like, am I selfish or am I scared? You know? We’re all scared, Sarah.”

“Yes, and we all make mistakes.”

Alison muttered, “God, I was a drug dealer, for pete’s sake.”

As they laughed at that horrible memory (Cosima specifically thought about having to pretend to be Alison because she had messed up with her bag of pills), Felix waltzed into the backyard with an unmistakable cheeky grin.

“Don’t you all look cozy. Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I got something for all of you.”

Everyone tried to look at the paper he was holding dramatically to his chest.

“What’s that?”

Felix smirked. “See for yourself.”

Cosima thought that her eyes had suddenly failed her. Or that she was imagining this. She never ever thought she would have this.

“Holy shit, is that a complete list of the Leda sisters?” Cosima asked him.

“Yeah,” Felix told her with confidence.

“Where did you get this?”

“Uh, I’ve got a good guess,” Sarah murmured as the realization hit Cosima. Rachel. 

“Oxana Petrov, Colista Popoudokis, this is musical histories, physicians, contacts, addresses. This is everything we need to cure the Ledas.”

Sarah muttered, “Christ, that’s 274 of us.”

They all took a few minutes to let that all sink in. For years they had to battle for their freedom. These hundreds of people would never have any clue what they did for them. What they would do for them.

After a few seconds, Helena pulled out a notebook of some sort. Sarah recognized it as her memoirs.

“I finished my book,” Helena announced with a proud smile. “It’s a story about my sestras. I call it Orphan Black."

No one really knew how to react to that. Cosima shared questioning laughs with Sarah, though she did like the title. They were all orphans, though, not so much anymore.

“We’re not black,” Alison mentioned, causing everyone to laugh even harder and facepalm because of course, Alison would say that.

“Shut up,” Helena eventually commanded, tired of everyone’s shit. “Listen, I will translate from Ukrainian.” She opened the book and began to read. “‘My story is an embroidery with many beginnings and no end. But I will start with the thread of my sestra, Sarah, who stepped off a train one day and met herself…’”

Helena continued into all hours of the night. The sestras all listened intently, laughing, crying, holding each other during reminders of all the terrifying shit they had to go through. Some things even Cosima didn’t know about, especially the moments between Sarah and Helena.

She squeezed Sarah’s hand. She didn’t know when they joined hands or how it occurred, but she refused to let go, even when Helena fell asleep reading and everyone else besides the two of them were snoring.

“There’s no way I’m sleepin’ on a chair outside,” Sarah grumbled as she tried to push her twin off of her legs.

“It’s sweet,” Cosima commented brightly as she looked around at the sestras. “This is peace, Sarah.” She paused as the two of them stared into each other’s eyes as they did months ago on the bed in the Rabbit Hole. “I’m sorry for… abandoning you in the last couple of weeks. It’s like, totally not fair.”

Sarah looked down at Helena’s bushy hair and started playing with it, avoiding the scientist’s stare. “I get it, Cos. You’re busy. And… I’ve made things weird. Kissin’ you and… wantin’..." she trailed off before she continued, “I know you’re with Delphine and I’m happy for you.”

Cosima felt her heart drop. “I want to be completely honest with you, Sarah, because I think we both deserve that. And I know what I’m going to say probably won't make much sense but… I love Delphine, I do. But you? Sarah. The connection, it’s… you’re different to me. I don't know how to explain it.”

Sarah nodded, not looking thrilled or upset. “I get it. M’not lookin’ for anything, yeah? You don’t… I’ll be fine.”

Cosima nodded and tried to believe it. “Look, all I know is that I need you in my life. I need you like… like I need the sun, okay? You are so important to me. I just… need to figure out the rest.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

Cosima’s heart lurched and she almost jumped from her seat with excitement. “So you’re staying?”

Sarah looked all around at her sleeping sestras (and brother) and said, “How could I leave all of this?”

Cosima grinned. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“Well, I am fun to have around. Always cheery,” Sarah replied sarcastically.

Cosima snorted. “You’re becoming delirious. Go to sleep.”

“Tell me a story?”

Cosima smiled. “Hmmm. How about the story of Cupid and Psyche?"

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

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[uneminuteparseconde]

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Kazumoto Endo + Spore Spawn + Vomir + Autocastration – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 11. Birds in Row + Lane (Jimi fest.) – Théâtre Antoine-Vitez (Ivry/Seine) 11. Marc Acardipane aka Pop + Manu le Malin + [KRTM] + DJ Chuimix + Raw + Makornik + Fuerr – La Machine 11. New Order – Grand Rex ||COMPLET|| 12. Lucas Paris : "Emotional Synthesis" + Orson Hentschel + Sentimental Rave (Biennale Nemo) – Le 104 12. Ben Shemie, John McEntire & Sam Prekop – Petit Bain 14. King Gizzard & Tle Lizard Wizard – Olympia 14. Shannon Wright – Trianon 15. Kate Carr + Valérie Vivancos – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 15/16. Metronomy – Olympia 17. Puppetmastaz – Trabendo 17. Automat : musique pour "Archeologia" d'Emmanuelle Huynh – Centre Pompidou 18. Dream Syndicate – Petit Bain 18. Total Victory – Espace B 18. A_r_c_c + À travers + Simple Appareil + Blenno Die Wurstbrücke – église Saint-Merri 18. Rendez-Vous + Marble Arch – Le Plan (Ris-Orangis) 19. Sisters of Mercy – Bataclan 19. Lingua Ignota – Espace B 19. Josin – Lafayette Anticipations 19. Adam X + David Caretta b2b The Hacker + 14Anger + Phase Fatale + Terence Fixmer + Raffaele Atanasio + Darzack + De-Dust2 + Dersee – tba 19. Juan Atkins + Vril + Ceephax Acid crew + Antigone + Onur özer + Fasme (Le Champ des machines) – Le Ferme du Buisson (Noisiel) 19. Pixies + Blood Red Shoes – Olympia ||COMPLET|| 21. Pawns + Youth Avoiders + Barren? – Espace B 22. Thurston Moore – Trabendo 23. Ecstatic Vision + Les Tigres du futur + Os Noctambulos – ESS'pace 23. Four Tet – Le 104 ||COMPLET|| 24. The Necks – La Marbrerie (Montreuil) 25. A Certain Ratio – Petit Bain 25. Poutre + OK fdp + Bruant zizi – ESS'pace 25. Jozef Van Wissem – crypte Notre-Dame de la Croix 26. The Monochrome Set – Petit Bain 26. Mørbeck + Philipp Strobel + IV Horsemen – La Machine 29. Agent Side Grinder – La Boule noire 30. Oiseaux-Tempête + Jessica Moss – La Maroquinerie 30. Jenny Hval – Centre Pompidou 30. Battles – Trabendo 31. Skepta + Mura Masa + Hamza + Zola + Ateyaba + Celeste + Duendita + Ezra Collective + Flohio + Kojey Radical + Master Peace + Slowthai + The Comet is Coming + Yussef Dayes + Charlotte Dos Santos + Kojaque (Pitchfork fest.) – La Grand Halle de La Villette 31. Arrington de Dionyso – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) Novembre 01. Chromatics + Belle & Sebastian + Primal Scream + John Talabot + Weyes Blood + Barrie + Briston Maroney + Chai + Desire + Helado Negro + Jackie Mendoza + Nilüfer Yanya + Orville Peck + Sheer Mag + Squir + Loving + Nelson Beer + Sons of Raphael (Pitchfork fest.) – La Grand Halle de La Villette 02. The 1975 + Charli XCX + 2manysdj (dj) + Aurora + Agar Agar + SebastiAn + Aeris Roves vs Jamila Woods + Jessica Pratt + Kedr Livanskiy + Korantemaa + BEA1991 + Caroline Polachek + Ela Minus + KhadyaK + Mk.gee + Oklou + Tobi Lou (Pitchfork fest.) – La Grand Halle de La Villette 06. The Murder Capital – Nouveau Casino 07. Xiu Xiu + Camilla Sparksss + Hyperculte – Petit Bain 08. Bedroom Community – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 08. Boy Harscher – Trabendo 08. Part Chimp + Gnod + Hey Colossus – Petit Bain 10. Amiina : cinéconcert sur "Fantomas" de Louis Feuillade – Le Studio|Philharmonie 10. Ôlafur Atnald + Hugar – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 10. Fontaine D.C. – Bataclan 13. Mick Harvey & JP Silo, Steve Shelley, Glenn Lewis – Les Trois Baudets 14. Dinah Bird & Jean-Philippe Renoult (Inaudible Matters) – La Gaîté lyrique 14. Girl Band – La Maroquinerie 15. Kap Bambino – La Gaîté lyrique 15. Von Pariahs – Point FMR 15. Chemical Brothers – Seine musicale (Boulogne-Billancourt) 17. Nitzer Ebb – La Machine 17. Tropical Fuck Storm – Badaboum 19. Earth – Petit Bain 22. Rubin Steiner + Dombrance + Ambeyance + Meteo Mirage – La Maroquinerie 22. Nursery + Casse Gueule + Tout de suite – Cirque électrique 23. Billy Childish (fest. BBmix) – Carré Bellefuille (Boulogne-Billancourt) 24. TR/ST – Le Trianon 24. Midori Takada (fest. BBmix) – Carré Bellefuille (Boulogne-Billancourt) 24. The Young Gods + Les Tétines noires – La Machine 26. Wardruna – Olympia 27. The Stranglers – Olympia 28. The Psychotic Monks – Trabendo 30. Mondkopf – Médiathèque musicale de Paris (gratuit) Décembre 01. Motorama – La Maroquinerie 03. White Hills – Supersonic (gratuit) 06. Phillip Glass Ensemble : cinéconcert sur "Koyaanisqatsi" de Godfrey Reggio – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 07. Phillip Glass Ensemble : cinéconcert sur "Powaqqatsi" de Godfrey Reggio – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 08. Phillip Glass Ensemble : cinéconcert sur "Naqoyqatsi" de Godfrey Reggio – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 11. Boris – Le Gibus 12. Mono + Jo Quail – Petit Bain 12. Kompromat – La Cigale 13. Contrefaçon – La Gaîté lyrique 18. Amenra – Bataclan 2020 Janvier 04. Rokia Traoré + Ballaké Cissoko & Vincent Segal – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 18. Lee Ranaldo & Raül Refree – Le 104 18. Franck Vigroux : "Flesh" (Biennale Nemo) – Maison des arts et de la culture (Créteil) 29. Rendez-Vous – La Cigale 31. Tindersticks – Salle Pleyel Février 02. Sunn o))) – La Gaîté lyrique 09. Explosions in the Sky – La Cigale 13. Ride – Le Trianon 16. Orchestral Manoeuvre in the Dark – La Cigale 21. Ensemble Links joue "Drumming" de Steve Reich + Cabaret contemporain : "Détroit" + Molécule – Le 104 24. Sleater Kinney – Le Trianon Mars 07. Ensemble intercontemporain joue Steve Reich : cinéconcert sur un film de Gerhard Richter – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 20. Ensemble Dedalus joue "Occam Ocean" d'Éliane Radigue – Le Studio|Philharmonie 21. Front 242 + She Past Away – Élysée Montmartre 21/22. Laurie Anderson : "The Art of Falling" – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie Mai 08. Max Richter : "Infra" + Jlin + Ian William Craig – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 09. Max Richter : "Voices" – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 10. Max Richter : "Recomposed" & "Three Worlds" – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 24. Damon Albarn – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie en gras : les derniers ajouts / in bold: the last news

[dendre]

Hanglemez 2019/02

Default Genders: Main Pop Girl 2019  9.0  (future pop) Ot to Not To: It Loved To Happened  9.0  (mark hollis of experimental r&b) Y La Bamba: Mujeres  8.5  (latin alt, indiefolk) Piroshka: Brickbat  8.5  (indierock) Roses Gabor: Fantasy & Facts  8.5  (elektro r&b) Feels: Post Earth  8.5  (lofi-posztpunk) Fling: Fling Or Die  8.5  (indiepsychpop)

Golden Daze: Simpatico  8.0  (neopsychdreamjanglepop) The Delines: The Imperial  8.0  (altcountry-soul) Cherusii & Maria Minerva: ST  8.0  (hypnogogic outsider pophouse) Sleaford Mods: Eton Alive  8.0  (spokenword posztpunk) Powder: Powder In Space  8.0  (dj mix, house) Time Grove: More Than One Thing  8.0  (electrosouljazz) Nate Wooley: Columbia Icefield  8.0  (jazzambient) Celestial Trax: Serpent Power  8.0  (ambient) AJ Lambert: Careful You  8.0  (elegantpop-feldolgozáslemez Sinatra-unokától) Leyla McCalla: The Capitalist Blues  8.0  (cajun, folkswing) Swindle: No More Normal  8.0  (purple sound, uk hiphop) Pom Poko: Birthday  8.0  (dancepunk) Du Blonde: Lung Bread For Daddy  8.0  (indierock) Wadada Leo Smith: Rosa Parks  8.0  (jazz) Theon Cross: Fyah  8.0  (jazz) Mikron: Severance  8.0  (ambient techno) Sunwatchers: Illegal Moves  8.0  (jazzpsychrock) Pierce Pettis: Father’s Son  8.0  (folk) Vtgnike: Steals  8.0  (ambient juke) Our Native Daughters: Songs Of Our Native Daughters  8.0  (banjofolk) Jozef Van Wissem / Jim Jarmush: An Attempt To Draw  7.5  (avantfolk instru) Tourist: Everyday  7.5  (deep house) Nakhane: You Will Not Die  7.5  (artpop&b) Greensky Bluegrass: All For Money  7.5  (progressive bluegrass) Seed Ensemble: Driftglass  7.5  (souljazz) Gum Takes Tooth: Arrow  7.5  (expreirock) Frances Cone: Late Riser  7.5  (indieartpop) Diat: Positive Disintegration  7.5  (posztpunk) The Long Ryders: Psychedelic Country Soul  7.5  (paisley under, powerpop) Yugen Blakrok: Anima Mysterium  7.5  (hiphop) Julia Jacklin: Crushing  7.5  (indiefolk) Angelo De Augustine: Tomb  7.5  (indiefolk) Madolin Orange: Tides Of A Teardrop  7.5  (folk, altcountry) Yola: Walk Through Fire  7.5  (soulpopcountryblues) Twin Talk: Weaver  7.5  (sleepjazz) Calva Louise: Rhinoceros  7.5  (indierock) Lor Choc: Love Is Love  7.5  (rap&b) Bjarki: Happy Earthday  7.5  (izlandi idm-ambient techno) Brìghde Chaimbeul: The Reeling  7.5  (skót dudazene, folk)

International Teachers Of Pop: S/T  7.0  (disco-szintipop) Buke And Gase: Scholars  7.0  (indietronica, artpop) Betty Who: Betty  7.0  (softy, synthy, 80s-y dancepop) Vandoliers: Forever  7.0  (cowpunk) Finlay Shakespeare: Domastic Economy  7.0  (electro) Copeland: Blushing  7.0  (dreampop) Mykele Deville: Maintain  7.0  (hiphop) Jio: TFW  7.0  (alt-elektro r&b) XamVolo: All The Sweetness...  7.0  (alt&b) Markers: Heaven In The Dark Earth  7.0  (droneposztfolk) The Cool Greenhouse: Crap Cardboard Pet EP  7.0  (bedroom posztpunk) Spellling: Mazy Fly  7.0  (experi electropop) Harlem: Oh Boy  7.0  (garage pop) The Entrepreneurs: Noise And Romance  7.0  (noisepop) Hugh Marsh: Violinvocations  7.0  (hegedűs glitchambient) Julia Kent: Temporal  7.0  (vonós posztminimalambient) Fran And Flora: Unfurl  7.0  (hegedűcselló modern classical) The Unthanks: Emily Bronte  7.0  (kamarafolk) Adia Victoria: Silences  7.0  (artrock) Robert Ellis: Texas Piano Man  7.0  (piano pop) Telekinesis: Effluxion  7.0  (indiepop) James Yorkston: The Route  7.0  (indiefolk) Chaka Khan: Hello Happiness  7.0  (dancesoulpop) Charlotte Adigéry: Zandoli EP  7.0  (altdancepop) Surachai: Come, Deathless  7.0  (noise) Shook Twins: Some Good Lives  7.0  (decens folkpoprock) Liz Brasher: Painted Image  7.0  (popsoul) Mike Krol: Power Chords  7.0  (power garage) Bass Clef: 111  7.0  (outsider dubhouse-idm) Teeth Of The Sea: Wraith  7.0  (neopsych-elektroposztrock) Desperate Journalist: In Search Of The Miraculous  7.0  (posztpunk-indierock) Tender: Fear Of Falling Asleep  6.5  (dreamy electropop) Lee Gamble: In A Paravental Scale EP  6.5  (idm) Subjective: Act One  6.5  (deephouse and bass) Thelma: The Only Thing  6.5  (artpop) Susanna & Brotherhood...: Garden Of Earthly Delights  6.5  (avantfolk-artpop) And The Kids: When This Is Over  6.5  (indierock) Yann Tiersen: All  6.5  (ambient pop) Machinefabriek: With Voices  6.5  (konkrét elektronika) Deer Tick: Mayonnaise  6.5  (folkrock, americanablues) Julian Lynch: Rat’s Spit  6.5  (indie-dreamfolk) Ry X: Unfurl  6.5  (folktronica) Kehlani: While We Wait  6.5  (neosoul-r&b) Efdemin: New Atlantis  6.5  (minimal/ambient/abstract techno) Tiny Ruins: Olympic Girls  6.5  (folkpop) Black Taffy: Elder Mantis  6.5  (absztrakt hiphop) Drenge: Strange Creatures  6.5  (garázsposztpunk)

Homeshake: Helium  6.0  (hypnagogic synthfunk) Nate Young: Dilemmas Of Identity  6.0  (post-industrial) Lorelle Meets The Obsolete: De Facto  6.0  (mexikói neopszichkrautrock) Le Butcherettes: bi/MENTAL  6.0  (artrock) Say Anything: Oliver Appropiate  6.0  (acousticemo) Cub Sport:  Cub Sport  6.0  (elektropop&b) Rosie Carney: Bare  6.0  (indiefolk) Cucina Povera: Zoom  6.0  (a capella minimal synth) Deep Cut: Different Planet  6.0  (shoegaze-psych) TMBOY: Steam  6.0  (elektropop) Go Dark: Neon Young  5.5  (hipszeterelektropop) Thyla: What’s On Your Mind EP  5.5  (indierock) Tim Presley: I Have Toe Feed  5.5  (psychpop) Elena Setién: Another Kind Of Revolution  5.5  (szofiszti artpoppy)  Hayes Carll: What It Is  5.5  (altcountry, americana) Dreezy: Big Dreez  5.5  (trap-hiphopr&b)  Boogie: Everything’s For Sale  5.5  (westcoasthiphop) Fredo: Third Avenue  5.0  (uk rap) Perfect Son: Cast  5.0  (szintis artpop) 

+++++ Brown Sugar: I’m In Love With A Dreadlock (Birth Of Lovers Rock 1977-1980)  9.5  (gyönyörű, úttörő lovers rock-életmű összegzése, 2018-as, decemberi lemez) Don The Tiger: Matanzas  8.5  (2018-as évvégi lemez, poszt afrocuban) VA: The Social Power Of Music  8.0  (négylemezes Smitshonian Folkways-válogatás, komoly protest song-history) Damon Zucconi: Untitled Substance  8.0  (b-more deconstructed, 2007-es, elfeledett LP újrakiadása) Stano: Content To Write  8.0  (1983-as ír posztpunk újrakiadása) D. Rothon: Nightscapes  8.0  (2018-as évvégi, smoothpopjazzmoodmusic) Moma Ready: Ocean Walker II  8.0  (2018-as évvégi, liquid funk, breaks) Hedvig Mollestad Trio: Smells Funny  7.5  (2018-as évvégi, heavypsych-jazz) BlueWhale: Process  8.0  (2018-as évvégi, atonal rock) Rattle: Sequence  8.0  (2018-as évvégi, dobzene)

(Ezeken kívül még sok lemezbe belehallgattam, és maximum 10 percet töltöttem velük, mert annyira nem nekem szóltak vagy szimplán borzasztóak voltak, ezeket nem sorolom. És igen, ez amolyan laza sorrend.)     

Eszméletlenül sok olyan zene van ma (kösz soundcloud/bandcamp), amit az alkotója valamilyen (leginkább életkori) oknál fogva nem tudott megvalósítani akkor, amikor az újszerű, releváns, aktuális, izgalmas lehetett volna. Ezek között persze akad több olyan, ami legalább érdekes, ügyesen nyúl a témához, jól hallgatható, de ha már hallottad azt, amiket másolnak, akkor nyilván nem tudnak revelációt kiváltani (vagy csak nagyon kivételes esetben). És akkor ugye hallani is minek, ha nem másnak, hogy szóljon valami elmegy háttérzene. Rengeteg lemez esik ebbe a kategóriába, a szabad újrafelhasználás, a miért ne korát éljük.

Ugyanakkor ha nem ösztönöz a remény, hogy potenciálisan jó zenéről maradhatok le, akkor nincs is értelme új megjelenéseket hallgatni. Vagy a régiek közül keresgélni.

Ami még általánosságban jellemző, az a kislemez (albumtrekk)-nagylemez örök szkanderének aktuális kiélesedése. Még a legtöbb 6.5 alatti lemezről is tudnék egy jó számot kiemelni, és végülis nem ez a lényeg? Jó számokat hallgatni. Pont ez van, Spotify-kor definíció szerint: jó számokat kiválasztani, abból jó playlisteket hallgatni. De ha én baszom el ezzel az időt, akkor csak ezzel foglalkozom (és jó eséllyel úgy sem fogom két-három alkalomnál többször hallani), ha más, nem hiszek neki, nem hiszem el, hogy ne hagyott volna le valami jót és a végén becsavarodunk az értelmetlen, újzenét megszállottan (ennél, amit itt csinálok, sokkal megszállottabban) kereső spirálba. Plusz, ha tudtál egy jó számot, akkor hallani akarom, hogy tudsz-e többet is? Ha nem, az sajnálatos. Ha igen, akkor meg csinálj belőlük egy jó lemezt, ami képes egy egységes hangulatot, világot nyújtani, amibe szívesen elmerülök.

Ebben a hónapban két lemeznek is az a címe, hogy Unfurl. Sok februári LP volt már az első részben is, így ez a második most alighanem rövidebb. Kevesebb a kiemelkedő album, ennélfogva. Most is kettő tetszett nagyon, az egyik a legtipikusabb future pop, mindent bele Default Genders friss albuma, ő a reményteljes, de ki nem igazán teljesedő Elite Gymnastics egyik fele volt (ez a chillwave idején feltűnt zenekar mindent mashupolt: dreampopot, jungle-t, house-t, k-popot stb.), ez a második szólólemeze és a zenekarral elkezdett munka eddigi betetőzése. Perfekt jövőpop, ami természetesen nem jelent mást, mint, hogy 2019-ben ilyennek is kellene lennie a jó popzenének, miközben alig ilyen. A másik nagyon tetszetős lemez egy Ot to Not To nevű előadó harmadik albuma, róla nem hallottam korábban. A zenéjére nem én találtam ki a Talk Talk-os Mark Hollis-párhuzamot, ami tökéletesen illik:  mark hollis of experimental r&b. Valami nagyon szellős, szétszerelt-újrarakott folk r&b ez, nagyon távoli kapaszkodónak lehet használni Kindness-t, aki nagyon kicsit hasonlóan szerelte az 80s softpopos r&b-t néhány éve. Ebből a kínmondatból is látszik, milyen nehéz körbeírni a zenét, inkább hallani kell. Jó még a  Y La Bamba eklektikus indiefolkpopja, nagyon kicsit US Girls, ha ez segít, aztán a Lush-os milányunk, Miki Berényi új zenekara, a Piroshka egy több mint korrekt albummal debütált, persze vele elfogódott vagyok, ezt itt be is jelentem, de mindenesetre ez sokkal jobb, mint a három évvel ezelőtti Lush-visszatérő EP, és úgy általában is. Kellett neki három hallgatás, hogy a korrektnél többnek halljam, itt tartok most vele. Roses Gabor szerintem nem a mi lányunk, ha jól veszem ki, grenadai szülők gyereke (Gábor ZsaZsa ihlethette a nevét?) erős elektro r&b-t tol, a Feels nekemvalóan megkapó lofi-posztpunkot, a Fling pedig szórakoztató indiepsychedéliát, utóbbi három lemezt lehet, hogy kicsit túlértékelem. Majdnem ennyire jó még a Golden Daze télies, ártalmatlan dreampopja (picit Real Estate-es jangle is), amibe nagyon jó belebújni. Akárcsak a The Delines soulos altcountryjába. A Sleaford Mods ismét szórakoztató, zeneileg talán minden korábbinál, izé, zeneibb. Cherusii & Maria Minerva kiadványa félig posztumusz anyag, Cherusii fiatalon hunyt el, barátnője, Minerva gondozta, fejezte be közös felvételeiket, nyilván nagyon sajnálatos, hogy előbbi nem tudott kibontakozni, utóbbi viszont hosszabb hallgatást tört meg ezzel a jó lemezzel. Mi van még? Nyilván mindig keverednek a friss megjelenések közé pár hetes, hónapos kiadványok is, ennyit csak ilyen tempóban lehet feldolgozni. Nem nekem, a nemzetközi sajtónak, amiből mondjuk a Popmatters úgy tud minden nap pár lemezt bemutatni, hogy nem ismétli a Pitchfork-féle fősodor kínálatát és mégis érdekes. De amúgy nagyon sok mindent kell olvasni, hogy összeálljon egy ilyen kép, ilyen lemezsor. 

Ezek tetszettek a legjobban februárban. A második kupacban (és harmadik elején) még olyanok vannak, amiket szerintem abszolút érdemes meghallgatni annak, aki bírja az adott stílust, a harmadik-negyedik adagban viszont már azok szerepelnek, amikhez rajongónak kell lenni és úgy sem kizárt a csalódás.

[louhearted]

Do you have any favourite poets? Poems? Why are they Ur faves?

this is such a sweet question!!! and i’m gonna be shit at answering it because i dont read enough poetry dkgjldfh i can say that i don’t think i’ll ever be able to choose ONE favourite poet ever. because that’s like…. there’s just so much OUT THERE. everyone is a tiny star that needs to be admired.

okay then in no particular order i’m gonna list a few poems

first one, the shakespeare one that’s even quoted in my header, Sonnet 36.

it’s just so…. soft and full of love and kindness and forgiveness and so wonderfully gay?

i also really love that the rhymes in the quartrains are built with light vowels, like a and e, making it seem so hopeful while the message is so sad, and then the couplet uses the dark o vowel while the message here is actually the hopeful one. so this pain always goes hand in hand with the beauty of love, you know? i just …. wow. yeah i cry everytime.

then charlotte smith’s Written in a Churchyard at Middleton in Sussex

i actually wrote a paper on that one and just the more time i spent with this poem, the more i was baffled by it’s beauty. it’s so beautifully written, how the words and the rhyme mimes the crushing of the waves, a constant ebb and flow, the beautiful use once again of assonances and dark and light vowels, wow.

also a woman poet? at that time? i love them all. a woman writing about how she envies the dead? i fuckign love her

let’s stick to women and pick my gay mother who RAISED ME Carol Anne Duffy and let’s pick the poem Pygmalion’s bride but tbh everything that flows from her pen is just…. awesome

when i first read that one, which was while i was sitting in a poetry seminar, i started tearing up and almost had to leave the room because it touched me so much. i don’t have anything else to say. i cant even like… properly analyse this poem as i did the once before because just… it’s just tears. but i will say the fact alone that she took this old story and turned it around??? fuckign magical. fuckign powerful.

then ofc i gotta mention good old percy b shelly who ofc was….. a bit of an asshole in his private life and inconsistent in his political views (he’s gonna tell you he was very consistent and he hated wordsworth etc for abandoning their rebellious ideals in their old age, but tbh i’d rather have someone turn their backs on their youth’s ideals than always claim to be a democrat and humanist (which he WAS OFC and i LOVE HIM FOR IT) while also always saying how much he hated poor people. stupid aristocrat who didnt really understand the world and treated my MOTHER mary like SHIT sdjgndlfh anyway his poetry is amazing djgndfh) and i’m gonna pick the Ode to the West Wind, especially part V, because just…. wow.

oh OH before i forget i really have to mention Michael Faber’s Old BIrd, Not Very Well. i cried so HARD when i read that poem, the entire collection actually (Undying Love). That poem actually inspired a tattoo idea for me and im desperately saving money to get it done. the story behind it is haunting and the imagery just as beautiful. once again i cried so much while reading this that i cant even pinpoint specific lyrical devices atm. it just…. fuck.

what else what else…. OH Robert Frost Fire and Ice

simple. to the point. and just as destructive as its message. the rhymes chosen so smartly that you stumble over the words, a self destructing poem so to speak. i fucking love it.

im pretty sure there are another THOUSAND poems out there that i could list right now but just…. all of them sgjnlfg im even pretty sad about the fact that i cannot list a favourite german one at the top of my head :( that shouldnt be :( i’ll come back to this post once i can remember one hahah

man i just fucking love poetry. what would we do without poetry :( it’s EVERYTHING

[carryon117]

Chapter Seventy-Five:

My senses begin to return as my unconsciousness ebbs away. Someone has set me down on a couch near the group, but not too close to disturb me. Which I can appreciate because there is some sort of evil pounding in my head. The rhythm it taps out can only be described as sinister as it continues to press on my already painful skull. Note to self; don’t over do it with the gifts, or a tiny and invisible being will tap dance on my brain. 

I let out a small groan, eyes beginning to open as I become more a part of the waking world. The noise I make must be quiet since no one reacts to it. As my senses finally come online, I hear the conversation that is occurring on just the other side of the room. 

“Those are tattoos, this is a brand.” Thor’s voice points out, seemingly pleased to spot the difference.

“Oh, yeah. It’s a word in an African dialect meaning ‘thief’.” Bruce points out, examining his computer screen. “In a much less friendly way.” 

“What dialect?” Steve asks.

“Wakanada” Bruce attempts, looking at his computer screen. 

“Wakanda” I correct him, sitting up. Loki walks over to me and begins a silent once over, his eyes focused but I can practically taste his frustration and anger coming off in waves. I roll my eyes at his antics and refocus my attention on the conversation at hand.

“If this guy got out of Wakanda with some trade goods…” Tony begins to speculate.

“I thought that your father said he got the last of it.” Steve answers. 

“I don’t follow.” Bruce states, getting up from his spot at the computer and approaching the rest of the group. “What comes out of Wakanda?”

“The strongest metal on Earth.” Tony says, looking at Steve's shield laying against the wall. 

“What do you think he wants with it?” Sam asks pointedly.

“Nothing good. But first things first. We need to find where he is going.” Steve’s Captain voice echoes around the room.

“Well, we’ve got these records of his last known haunts. Stark, can you look into them?” Nat asks, going through the papers. I can practically see different strategies forming as her eyes dart between different files. 

“Sure thing, Charlotte’s Web.” Tony snarks and turns to the computer in front of him, beginning to manually search with satellites instead of the usual of asking JARVIS to man the helm.

“While Tony narrows down our targets, I think it’s time to suit up.” Steve comments.

“I should have something within the hour.” Tony comments absentmindedly. Nods and affirmations are heard around the room and people begin to break off to prepare for whatever lies ahead of us. 

As the group disperses from the room, I turn my attention to the hovering god.

“Loki, I’m fine. I just overdid it a bit.”

“You didn’t seem fine at all. Midgardians are so fragile.” He says that last statement more to himself than to me.

I push on his shoulder a little bit to send the message to give me room. Loki moves back slightly, but if he didn’t want to, I know that I would be unable to move him. The facial expression that he gives me causes me to hesitate for a moment. An unpleasant mixture of relief and frustration contort his features.

“I swear. I will be fine. I need to go and get ready.” I stand on shaky feet for a moment, gaining the equilibrium to function as an independent person once more. I stalk towards the door, my backpack slung over my shoulder. “Tony will have the coordinates shortly, you need to get ready too.” 

Loki responds to me with a flash of green seidr, leaving him dressed in his leather armor, daggers in hand. His mischievous smirk says it all, ‘I’m always ready’.

“Show off.” I scoff, and retreat. 

After leaving the lab I duck into the nearest restroom to change into my suit. I am careful to keep the folded piece of paper hidden, transferring it from my shirt and into a small interior compartment in my bag. After securing the paper, I carefully unfold my coveted suit.  The flexible fabric conforms to my figure, but leaves enough room that I don’t feel constricted but rather liberated. I’ve only worn the suit once before, and that did not end in my favor. Although the first time did not end well, I am determined that will not be the case this time. The silver lines shimmer as I move under the lights, the designs dancing in the mirror to form the intricate patterns. My confidence soars as I finish closing the hidden zipper. With the long sleeves of the suit, I again decide not to use the Aether to cast an illusion. I figure that the high tech fabric will not only protect me, but hide the markings.

Taking one last look in the mirror I decide to pull my hair into a high ponytail. No telling what kind of mess I will find myself in, and it’s easier to fight when there isn’t hair in my face. I take a deep breath, “I’m ready.”

“I sure hope so.” Nat seems to appear out of nowhere in the mirror behind me. I spin around to face her with a gasp,

“Nat! Why is everyone so content with scaring the living daylights out of me?”

She gives me a sly grin, “For one, I wasn’t even trying this time. But also it’s incredibly easy and entertaining.”

“Oh good, so I should expect this more often?” I sarcastically respond.

“No. It will happen when you least expect it.” Nat coos. 

A shiver causes me to tremble slightly, “Please tell me that you are joking.”

Nat doesn’t say anything, but the smile on her face says it all.

“Great, I’m gonna die of a heart attack.”

“We wouldn’t let that happen.” Nat places a hand on my shoulder and guides me towards the door. I quickly bend over and scoop up the backpack before we exit the room altogether. 

“Any word on if Tony figured out where to go?” I ask Nat as she guides me to the elevator.

“Yes, coordinates are currently being plugged into the quinjet. We leave in 10.”

“Yes ma’am.” I give her a mock salute while attempting to stand at attention.

She chuckles at my display as the elevator rises to the rooftop and the waiting quinjet. 

The doors slide open to reveal the assembled group of heroes in varying stages of battle readiness. We walk a bit further into the room and into the midst of the clamoring heroes. Thor and Loki are clearly ready. Loki leans against the quinjet and watches the chaos unfold while Thor seems to be egging it on. Steve is attempting to break up a squabble between Sam and Bucky. I don’t give it enough attention to truly find out what they are arguing about, if it is important I am sure that I will find out later. Clint is preparing the quinjet for take-off, and Nat saunters over to assist with the pre-flight checklist. The elevator doors open behind me once more revealing the two scientists in deep conversation.

“Banner, you don’t have to go into the field to go into the field.”

“Tony, please. Y/N had stated that I shouldn’t be in the field.”

The two seem to not notice me as they walk past. That is until I interrupt their conversation.

“I did say that you shouldn’t be in the field, but we aren’t leaving you behind in the tower by yourself.” Tony gives Bruce a look of ‘I told you so’. 

“Then what do you propose?” Bruce’s question sounds frightened and fraught with anxious energy.

“You stay on the quinjet, no matter what. And stay out of sight.”

“I think Jolly Green can handle that.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tony.” Bruce snarks back. 

Tony feigns hurt, clutching his chest, “I trust my science bro with all of my heart.” He slings an arm around my shoulders, guiding me to the quinjet and away from Bruce. “And besides, our resident air bender is gonna work a killer strategy for dealing with the Wonder Twins.”

“I wouldn’t say-”

“I have confidence in you, kid.” Tony says, meeting my gaze. His voice is completely serious, and I can feel his resolution in those words. Steve said together, and that means me too.

[pauling-charlotte]

"Oh crap, er hey dere miss p... didnt expect ya here till like... next week... what uh... what brings ya here?

Charlotte stood at the mouth of the stock room with her clipboard in hand and the door wide open, having had some issues with the cumbersome lock in the past leaving her stranded inside with no way to get out until someone came upon her; wanting to greatly avoid that this afternoon if she could help it as her time away from her base and her men had left a pile of paper work on her desk that was a brewing headache at the back of her mind. Just the sheer thought alone of what waited for her back in her office like a monster looming under the bed was enough to stir the starts of a migraine that she doubted would ebb any time soon; her lack of self care leading to these sort of minor issues becoming a much bigger problem in the long run.

With her silk dark brown hair pulled back into a low mildly crisp bun and her lithe frame silhouetted in a polished satin royal purple button down blouse tucked into her knee length frame caressing pencil skirt, the Pauling was a vision of prim stiff authority edged in femininity. Her mismatched brown and blue eyes casually lifting up from her work to peer momentarily over her reading glasses at the scout that approached with his surprise at her earlier than excepted appearance; not letting that look linger as her focus returned to what she was doing. “Hello to you too, Mr.McCarran. As delightful as my mandatory conference with the administrator and our beneficiaries was, I simply couldn’t refraining from returning home a moment longer.” Her posh English accented words slathered in sarcasm that was confirmed with the vaguely teasing glance she cast his way before returning her delicate features to thoughtful once more as she glanced into the stockroom. 

“No, there was a mishap with the scrap metal orders for the Engineers and there were supplies missing from our medical order request, that I simply couldn’t lay on anyone’s shoulders to look into but myself. Now I’m faced with rechecking our supplies to see what we can spare for the time being until new things can be shipped to us, and all before the weather really takes a turn and we are forced to resort to trash fires for heat.” The woman’s rant had started off as a simple flow of information to explain her reasoning for being here sooner than expected, however as she continued on the stress that was resting so heavily on her shoulders drew everything out in a flustered rush that ended with a wiry sigh that sagged her stiff stance somewhat. Realizing that she had verbally expelled a great deal more than she intended, Charlotte paused to turn her full attention to Scott with an slightly apologetic look that could be almost called a tired smile. “Was there something I could do for you, Mr. McCarran?”

[royravan04-blog]

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NBA 2020 Teams News

Washington Wizards 

With the season over 15% complete, the coalition's No. 3 offense has a spot with the Washington Wizards. Moreover the class head in both suitable field target rate and real shooting rate (among 198 players with in any occasion 75 field target tries) is Mo Wagner, who had 30 concentrations and 15 bob in somewhat more than 25 minutes in the Wizards' achievement in Minnesota on Friday. The total of the above is incredibly veritable, and the Wizards' offense kept moving (scoring 121 spotlights on 101 things) against the gathering's seventh-situated obstruction (that of the Magic) on Sunday. Oh dear, on a comparative floor, the Magic joined the Rockets, Celtics and Pacers as gatherings who have had their best threatening round of the period against the Wizards' hindrance, and a hurricane of Bradley Beal buckets down the stretch was lacking for Washington to move out of fourteenth spot in the East.

Detroit Pistons

Blake Griffin didn't shoot well (he was 12-for-31) in his initial two rounds of the period, yet the Pistons' offense was fine (137 focuses on 112 belongings) in his 54 minutes on the court. Tsk-tsk, the opposite finish of the floor has been the issue as they've lost four straight games, permitting the four rivals to score in excess of 117 focuses per 100 belongings. They're playing six of their last seven rounds of November against groups that presently rank in the last 10 in hostile effectiveness, however permitting the Hornets (who they'll play two additional occasions this month) to score a season-high 50 focuses in the confined territory was not a decent beginning to that stretch. And afterward Andre Drummond left Marvin Williams open in the corner for the 3-pointer that tied it up before Malik Monk's down victor. The Pistons have gone from tenth in the (most reduced) level of their rivals' shots that came in the limited zone last season (32%) to 26th this season (36%). Do follow our official website Watch NBA Games Online Free to get latest NBA news. We also give you free 1080p HD live stream and you will able to see live NBA matches on your personal stuff.

Sacramento Kings

A frustrating beginning to the season apparently deteriorated when De'Aaron Fox sprained his lower leg practically speaking last Monday. In any case, invigorated the of the challenge (the last two have come against the association's two best groups), the three games since they lost their point watch have been the Kings' best stretch of the period. Neither the offense nor the new beginning lineup has been extraordinary (Cory Joseph has shot 3-for-20 in his three beginnings), however the safeguard and the seat have been solid, and Buddy Hield burst into flames (35 focuses, 7-for-12 from 3-point run) to help beat the Celtics on Sunday. Richaun Holmes has played well as the beginning place and dominated the match on Sunday with his square of Marcus Smart and the free tosses that put the Kings ahead with 13 seconds left. In any case, Marvin Bagley (cracked thumb) could be back soon; Thursday will be a month since he was precluded for 4 a month and a half. It's likewise when the Kings fly to Brooklyn for the beginning of a stretch where they're playing 12 of 16 out and about. There's nothing buffering or spaming on our site.

Charlotte Hornets

Devonte' Graham's move into the beginning lineup (with damage to Dwayne Bacon) on Wednesday had the Hornets ahead toward the finish of the principal quarter just because since the second round of the period. Obviously, they despite everything trailed that game against Memphis by twofold digits (since they trail every one of their games by twofold digits) before a late rebound that missed the mark. Rebounds against Detroit and in New York throughout the end of the week were topped off by game-champs from Malik Monk and Graham, who as of now has the same number of 3-pointers to tie or lead the pack in the last moment of the final quarter or extra time (he's 2-for-3) as Kemba Walker had over his last two seasons in Charlotte (2-for-19). This doesn't appear to be truly economical (their ebb and flow record and point differential has the Hornets anticipated for a 27-win season), however it's good times! What's more, only two games into a stretch where they're playing 16 of 18 inside the Eastern Conference, the Hornets have the chance to remain serious for some time. Our site Watch NBA Games Online Free will give you all the updates from NBA games and all season matches schedule.

Cleveland Cavaliers

In the wake of opening a few eyes with two agreeable successes out and about against the two most noticeably terrible groups in the Eastern Conference, the Cavs have dropped three directly to the Sixers (twice) and Heat. They've scored only 97 focuses per 100 belongings over the losing streak, with more turnovers (47) than helps (45) and with Cavs not named Kevin Love (who missed the match dominating 3-pointer in Philly on Tuesday) having shot 12-for-58 (21%) from 3-point go. There's still purpose behind idealism with the association's most improved barrier and that they've played one of the class' hardest calendars as to rival quality. Be that as it may, they were the main group that hadn't played a consecutive preceding Sunday, and the misfortune to the Sixers in Cleveland (where they trailed by 31 and had only 14 helps on 34 cans) started one of their two stretches of five games in seven evenings.

[oosteven-universe]

Undiscovered Country #2

Undiscovered Country #2 Image Comics 2019 Written by Scott Snyder & Charles Soule Illustrated by Giuseppe Camuncoli & Daniele Orlandini Coloured by Matt Wilson Lettered by Crank!     As the team goes on the run from the deadly Destiny Man, the focus shifts to Charlotte’s brother, Daniel. Until this expedition, he was the only person on Earth to successfully infiltrate the black box that is the United States. What secrets did Daniel learn that might keep the team alive, and what did they cost him?     I was a little shocked with this issue and I am not sure if that's a good thing. Personally I would rather have learned that Daniel wasn't so trustworthy through subterfuge and not being shown it right off the bat. I mean I get where it's going but honestly I am not sure I like seeing this laid bare so quickly there is more fun in learning as we go and seeing him possibly arrange things off screen so we are never quite sure who's responsible for what. The opening here is great and it's a nice way of showing them as kids and introducing us to Sam, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Uncle Sam. It also actually explains quite a bit about how they are now and as crazy as that seems I found it highly enlightening.     So the way that we see this being told is well done. The story & plot development we see through the sequence of events unfolding and how the reader learns information is laid down solidly. I am not entirely a fan of the content but how it's presented is another story. The character development is interesting and I don't think we get a strong enough look at some of these characters. Which is going to happen when you have a cast as diverse as this one. More so when we add into this mix the various leaders of the rings they have to go through not mention our missing pilot so yeah there really is a large cast and right now I think spotlighting one is a little eh. The pacing is strong and as the twists and turns come into being and we see how that shapes the overall ebb & flow of the story it highlights how the book is structured.     I look at this with a critical eye and I will admit that wholeheartedly as these men are two of the more prolific storytellers. So this should be flawlessly done and I am not entirely sure that it is and the hype that surrounded it may have been overdone.     What is absolutely spectacular about this book is the interior artwork. The linework is phenomenally laid down and the way we see the utilisation of the varying weights that bring out this level and quality of attention to detail is extraordinary. There really something interesting happening here with the composition inside the panels. Usually I am saying there should be more backgrounds being utilised but the way we see the angles and perspective here as well as the sense of size and scope, scale and depth perception that we see is stunning. We see one of the more talented eyes for storytelling around here and it's just captivates and mesmerises the reader in some really beautiful ways. The colour work is awesome to see. I am a huge fan of seeing how the different hues and tones within any given colour to create the shading, highlights and shadows. I am loving seeing how the flesh tones are utilised to really help bring out the musculature and facial expressions here! ​     There is so much going on here that I am dying to learn about. The creatures that now exist in America and how, how, they are able to exist is among those things I need to know. Giant man eating shrimp really oh god that is some truly magnificent work being shown here. The creativity and imagination within these pages keep us coming back time and time again because what's been created here is something that we want see more of, we want to understand better and that interest and intrigue factor that's been instilled in the reader is a powerful thing.