#i imagine it’s like making a seven year old in charge of a high stakes space mission that can go HORRIBLY WRONG at any time

[ciceroandthelistener]

i feel like the magisters’ apprehension to naelia is more “you don’t deserve to be dragged into this” than “who’s this stupid kid?” but that’s definitely present tho

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Eight

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

The morale of the troops stationed at the airport seemed to have improved massively . Backhand secretly suspected that having Brandis back had raised everyone's spirits, but she wasn't about to say it out loud.

  Danse had been quiet for the remainder of their journey to the Prydwen, back to thinking a hole in the proverbial wall. Vega assumed he was probably just exhausted; he had already been awake and eager to move out by the time she roused herself that morning. She couldn't blame him. His power armor was long overdue for a greasing and she knew it wasn't an easy feat to move it with sticky bearings. Danse refused to take breaks though, simply chugging along at a steady trudge that she could match with ease. 

  They had agreed to skip a breakfast proper in lieu of eating on the march. A few stunted mutfruit that clung to a scrubby little bush beside the lean-to made their way into their stomachs, and Danse managed to acquire a box of Saddle Up when he gave the collapsed house next to the lean-to a cursory once-over. The two of them split the contents of the box, Danse folding his portion of Salisbury steak in half and tearing a piece out of it with his teeth like it was jerky. 

  Backhand followed suit, though a bit slower, trying to make the tough 'meat' last. She couldn't help but daydream about yesterday's breakfast, the tender meat of the radstag tossed with the soft tatos…

  Regardless of her rumbling stomach, she was glad to be back at the airport. With any luck, she'd be able to speak with Proctor Ingram and get her input on the schematics Virgil and Sturges had come up with. What was it that Nick had said?

  " Just a few more steps ."

  Danse touched her shoulder after they disembarked the vertibird on the flight deck. "I have to go deliver my armor to Ingram and then give Elder Maxson my report, Knight Vega. I suggest you locate Paladin Brandis so that you may retrieve your armor."

  Backhand saluted him sharply, tacking on the Ad Victoriam! at the end. Danse smiled with his eyes, but his face remained stern. 

  "Report to the grease pit once you're finished eating, Knight. Dismissed."

  "How did you know I was-?"

  "If I'm hungry, I imagine you are as well." Danse reasoned, "we ate lightly this morning and it's well past noon. Go get something to eat."

  "Yes sir , Paladin sir!" Backhand replied eagerly, bolting off. 

  Her boots clattered on the metal gangways as she strode towards the mess, ducking and dodging around armored knights and aspirants. Along the way, she heard the whispers that followed her.

  " Hey wasn't that the new sister? "

  " Her and Paladin Danse brought Paladin Brandis back to us! "

  " I heard Knight Vega is the General of the Minutemen -"

  " You're nuts , why would she join up with us if she's already in charge of somethin'? "

  Backhand did her best to ignore the ever-present circulation of scuttlebutt, the young woman making her way to the canteen with sure steps.

  …

  Praise be to whatever God still looked after mankind, Danse found himself redirected to Knight-Captain Cade before he could even think about going to the command deck. Ingram demanded that he submit to a thorough exam after she saw the level of damage his suit bore, and Danse wasn't about to tell a proctor no. If he relayed his briefing to Cade, Danse knew he could circumvent visiting Maxson directly. 

  "Ah, Danse! I'd heard you were back." Cade greeted the paladin hovering in the doorway, waving him in. "What brings you here, Paladin? More troubles of the heart?" He teased.

  Danse jerked to a halt. 

  Troubles of the heart? The words bounced around in his skull, demanding to be examined and oh God. Oh God , that's what had been wrong with him before! Danse wanted to beat his head against the wall. He hadn't been sick at all, not physically anyway. No wonder Cade had been so damned amused at all of his protesting.

  He forced himself to chuckle at the joke, forced himself to keep moving. Inside though, he wanted to scream. 'Troubles of the heart'. Love , as if he deserved to be able to so much as feel that emotion! As if he deserved anything after Cutler, after the catastrophic failure of Recon Squad Gladius!

  It was with panic that he thought back to that morning, to being calm and serene while he just... looked at her and...oh God no , he couldn't do this again. He wouldn't . 

  He shouldn't. 

  But…

  No! Think about what happened with Cutler! Think about what Arthur will do if he perceives her as a threat! Danse raged at himself. Don't be selfish for once in your damn life, she needs the Brotherhood and the Brotherhood needs her to get into the Institute. That's all . Don't make things more complicated, damn it!  

  All Danse could think about was her face right after he had found her lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood at Fort Independence, the desperate way she had entreated him.

  "- find my baby -" 

  Was she just trying to appeal to his sympathies? Danse could freely admit the compassionate nature he tried to bury had gotten him into more trouble than he would like over the years. But had she been playing the long game with that kiss at the police station? Certainly, if the Brotherhood hadn't caught their signal it would have been no skin off of her nose, she could move on to a new target. But since the Prydwen had shown up…

  Had Backhand attempted to get into his good graces just so she could get a better shot at saving her son? 

  As much as that reality would sting, he was unable to blame her for it. Danse already knew just how far he would go for his Brotherhood brothers and sisters, he couldn't even fathom what depths he would stoop to if he was trying to rescue his theoretical child. 

  Cade looked up from his clipboard. "What's wrong, Paladin? You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "I'm just...tired." Danse replied lamely. "Hungry." He swiftly changed the subject. "How is Brandis?"

  Cade leaned forward in his seat, unable to hide his clear interest. "I don't know how you managed to convince him to return, but he's doing remarkably well. We have him on a strengthening regiment, his body had been wracked by the radiation. Your knight surrendering her armor was a smart move."

  Your knight. Danse swallowed hard. "She is thoughtful." He said cautiously. Too much praise and it would be obvious that something was afoot, but too little could also tip the scales unfavorably. He found himself maneuvering a tightrope between his usual blunt honesty and this new, strange territory. 

  Many of the rank and file looked up to Danse due to his combat prowess and unflinching resolve. The paladin, in turn, was not necessarily overly free with his praise, but he tended to be more generous. A leftover from slogging along under Krieg's command, if Danse had to guess. The older paladin had cultivated Danse's eagerness to please into an unflagging tenacity through methods that were occasionally viewed as barbaric, but no one could fault his results. Still though, Danse wanted to be a fair leader, not a warlord or a tyrant who brought out the best in his troops through extreme duress.

  Had he been more like Krieg, maybe Gladius wouldn't have-- no , thinking that way would only drive him into a darker depression.

  He realized suddenly that Cade was giving him a quizzical look and Danse tried not to let his panic show. If Cade sussed him out, Vega would no doubt be reassigned. Maybe to Brandis? Hell, she would get the old codger killed -

  Cade got to his feet, asking Danse to follow his penlight with his eyes. The paladin obeyed, stifling a yawn as he did. "Still having trouble sleeping?" Cade asked calmly. "The headaches and nightmares?"

  "They come and go." Danse admitted. "I rarely sleep well, sir."

  "It's to be expected after everything you've gone through, Danse. You need to give yourself time , perhaps even take some leave-"

  Danse was already shaking his head, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs. "With all due respect sir, there is too much at stake in the Commonwealth."

  "And with even more respect, Paladin, you're working yourself into an early grave. Even earlier than you might anticipate. I'm well aware of your history and your mentality when it comes to the Brotherhood, but you need to consider the ramifications of your high-output lifestyle." Cade reasoned with a frown. "You'll burn yourself out at this rate. Hell, you might have already! Pay attention to your body, soldier. If you need to rest, then rest ." He placed a hand on Danse's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "You're no good to the Brotherhood dead, Danse."

  Danse nodded stiffly down at the floor. "Understood, sir." He then began to give his field report, Cade occasionally stopping him to ask for points of clarification.

  …

  Ingram hummed at the terminal, her eyes darting back and forth as she read through the information that scrolled across the screen. 

  "Okay. Okay alright, yeah. Your friend is a genius, but he's a bit of a savant. Gotta' tell him to branch out." She mumbled, almost like she was talking to herself. "Write this down for me, manipulating a pen in this suit is a terrible time."

  Backhand quickly accepted the clipboard Ingram pushed her way, hope rising in her heart as the proctor rattled off different statistics and theories about teleportation. Ingram expanded on Sturges' prior reasonings exponentially, seeming almost as excited as Backhand was at the plethora of new data to browse. Through a series of notes and ruler-lined diagrams, the proctor helped to fill in the gaps that Sturges had been struggling with. 

  "Of course, this is all speculation." Ingram sighed finally, sounding a little dejected. "If the Institute was really at the level of actual molecular reconstruction via relay, I get the idea that the Prydwen wouldn't still be in the air." She smiled at Backhand. "But hey, tell your friend 'thanks' from an old proctor. It was fun to think about. I don't get a lot of interesting or challenging data anymore, so this was a nice change of pace. If he ever wants to come aboard and talk shop, let me know and I'll try to get Maxson to give him a 'visitor's pass'."

  Vega was flabbergasted. Ingram apparently believed that Sturges just had limitless free time on his hands to flesh out such wild theories. She didn't think that any of it was real! The young woman collected herself after a moment, trying to think up an appropriate response. "I'll--I'll definitely let him know! I'm sure having someone intelligent to bounce his ideas off of will do him wonders." She promised, returning Ingram's smile. "He tends to leave me in the dust once he really gets going."

  Ingram groaned theatrically. "Ah, the burden of genius! Heavy is the head that wears the crown, you know how it is. It's times like these that I miss the hell out of Doctor Li."

  "Who was Doctor Li?"

  "Ah, she was one of our scientists back in the big CW. Worked on a lot of important stuff for the Brotherhood. Then one day she just kinda'-" Ingram gestured vaguely. "-went poof. Nobody ever heard from her again."

  Backhand had only been half-listening as she leafed through the notes, carefully collecting them all into a neat pile and stowing them in her satchel. But at the proctor's admission that their doctor had vanished , the former Vault-dweller straightened up. She squinted at Ingram. " Poof? "

  Ingram nodded. "Yep. Gone like she was never there. I personally think, after hearing about how the Institute operates, that our lead scientist got poached." She shrugged, her armor frame creaking loudly. "But that's just me. For all I know, Madison got bored."

  Backhand chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Stealing a brilliant scientist from their chief opposition made sense. But she still had no idea why the Institute would have taken her son of all people.

  "Oh! Your armor, I almost forgot. Brandis had me tuck it away in bay six." Ingram said suddenly, hooking a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the bay. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some serious work ahead of me to unfuck Danse's gear. 'Outstanding', my ass ." She griped. "Man's got a death wish."

  Backhand tried valiantly to choke back her laughter at Ingram's exaggerated impression of Danse's " outstanding ", but failed miserably.

  "Ah, I see you too must have witnessed the fabled ' outstanding '?" Ingram chuckled. "It's his trademark, great stuff."

  "I am pleased to know that you find my speech patterns amusing , Proctor Ingram." Danse's voice made Backhand squeak. The paladin sauntered up beside Ingram, still ripping apart what looked like an entire pot pie. 

  "Danse! I see you still can't take a breather, even if it's only to eat." Ingram remarked pointedly, rolling her eyes. "You couldn't have sat down in the mess hall, Paladin?" 

  "Time is of the essence, Proctor." Danse said through a mouthful of tough crust. Backhand had grabbed a slice of it when she was in the mess. The filling wasn't half bad, but whoever had made the shell had worked their dough for far too long. Obviously Danse wasn't letting that stop him.

  "Danse it's gonna' take my scribes a hot minute just to get all the dents out, nevermind the greasing. Do me a favor, take your knight and go to Proctor Teagan for a new helmet." Ingram shooed the paladin off, rolling her eyes at Backhand. "A fine example for our troops, as long as they don't watch you eat ."

  "They should not be watching me eat to begin with-" Danse started to protest.

  " Danse . Go to Teagan."

  …

  Finding Paladin Brandis conversing with Teagan shouldn't have come as a surprise to Danse. After all, Brandis loved his armor and mods. It was odd to see the older paladin all cleaned up once again, the sides of his head uniformly shaved and his facial hair back to the semi-standard goatee.

  "Danse!" Brandis greeted him warmly and Danse wished that he didn't have crumbs all over his jumpsuit. He was startled when the other man hauled him into a hug, slapping him on the back. "It's good to see you in one piece, Paladin! I heard about what happened with your armor. It's always a trial if you have to abandon your gear." Brandis' smile was broad but his eyes were sad. 

  Danse swallowed, nodding in agreement. "Are we interrupting your discussion, Paladin Brandis?" 

  "Not at all! I was just about to stop monopolizing Teagan's time."

  "Brandis, the last thing you're doing is monopolizing." Proctor Teagan groaned, leaning his elbows on the counter. He perked up when Backhand scooted out around Danse. "New Blood! You're back in one piece!" 

  "Takes more than a sure-fail mission to locate a man who's been missing for over five years to stop me, Proctor Teagan." Knight Vega replied, giving him a salute as he laughed.

  "Now, Danse, what's this I hear about you half-scuttling your gear?" Teagan chided the large paladin. "You're lucky we like you around here, you know that?"

  Danse chuckled, nodding. "I'm well aware, Proctor. I must requisition a new helmet."

  "Psh, you think I'll have one that'll fit that big head of yours? We'll have to see." Teagan ribbed him, turning away from the counter and beginning to rummage in his crates.

  Danse heard the sound of small footfalls and abruptly Brandis was assaulted by one of the squires. "Paladin Brandis!" The child exclaimed, like he had just discovered the paladin. 

  "Yes, little one?" Brandis asked, taking the boy's cap off to ruffle his unruly blond curls. Danse caught himself wondering what young Matthew would be like as a squire. Would he be more quiet, prone to scribe work? Or would he still be mischievous, going places where he shouldn't, eventually donning a suit of power armor to defend him from the consequences of said mischief?

  And Backhand's own child, her Shaun. When they rescued him, what would he be like? He assumed she must also think about that, obviously more than he would. 

  Danse realized belatedly that Brandis had continued his conversation with the boy, the child rattling on and on to the paladin about being allowed to feed Scribe Neriah's mole rats. Danse just barely caught Knight Vega's wistful smile before Teagan was clattering a familiar helmet down on the counter. "And here it is! One brain bucket, complete with intact searchlight." The proctor announced proudly, sliding the requisition form over for Danse to sign. "I expect you to take better care of this one, Paladin. Knight, make sure he takes better care of this one." Teagan instructed, narrowing his eyes.

  Vega snapped another salute, "yes sir, Proctor sir!"

  "Where are you off to now, Danse?" Brandis asked curiously, the squire still clinging to his leg.

  "Well, as Knight Vega is in a probationary phase, I imagine we'll assist Scribe Neriah. Perhaps Proctor Quinlan has a job for us." Danse mused, scribbling DN-407P on the form. "I don't believe we'll be sent out with the rest of Gladius anytime soon. I ought to check in on them."

  "Recon Squad Gladius returned last night, sir!" The squire informed him with a clumsy salute. "They should be at the ground barracks, sir!"

  " Outstanding ." Danse said warmly, then he heard Backhand wheeze with laughter. "Oh, be quiet." He huffed, nudging her side with his elbow. 

  …

  Danse had left her to her own devices, stating that he would be checking in on the remainder of his squadron for the evening. 

  " If you'd like to pick up a few small assignments, I will be happy to assist you with them as I continue to sponsor you ." 

  So after a brief logistical kerfuffle that found her standing in Cade's doorway instead of Quinlan's, Backhand managed to get herself assigned to the illustrious task of rustling up technical documents. "My scribes do so enjoy their reading material." Proctor Quinlan remarked, seeming amused by the way the young woman fawned over Emmett. "If you locate anything you believe could be of interest, please bring it to me. A good soldier knows that an unanticipated edge is the preferred one."

  "Of course sir." 

  Backhand did feel just a bit guilty about using Proctor Ingram as Sturges' sounding board, but in her defense she had planned on telling the other woman the truth. It just was a little less... messy for the moment if Ingram didn't know everything.

  Vega knew she could ask Codsworth about technical documents once she got back to Sanctuary. The robot hadn't left the cul-de-sac for over two hundred years; he probably had an itemized list of every thing in every house . And since the Hills had been styled as veteran housing, there was bound to be a few items of interest. Plus, it was the perfect excuse to return to Sanctuary so she could fling all of Ingram's notes at Sturges. Fingers crossed that the genius could make sense of them.

  Backhand was tired of wasting time, tired of spinning her wheels. But she knew that the more she helped, the more people would be willing to help her when the time came. Having the numbers of an outfitted army on her side in case of something going wrong was an immense comfort, and it helped to soothe her worries. The familiarity of it didn't hurt either. The Minutemen were slowly becoming a force to be reckoned with, but their humble beginnings could be a bit glaring . This was the next best option.

  So she'd rifle through the debris of Sanctuary Hills one more time. The required company of Danse was more of a bonus than a detriment, in her opinion. She could keep him clear of the Prydwen a lot easier when they were halfway across the world from the airport. 

  Ingram's words echoed in her head, not for the first time since Danse had been assigned as her sponsor. 

  "... Danse is a good man and he shouldn't be getting jerked around, Elder or no ."

  Backhand frowned, tipping herself out from behind her armor in bay six. Her eyes landed on Danse's suit standing empty across the way as two scribes slowly coaxed the dents out of it. God, the damage had been sobering in the first place, but looking at it now was almost worse. The frame looked tired . 

  " That's Paladin Danse's armor?"

  Backhand jumped at the whisper from beside her. She hadn't heard the squire approach. "Yup. Crazy, huh?"

  "Is he...is he okay?" The little girl asked timidly, wide brown eyes staring up at Vega. 

  "He is! He's fine, I promise." Backhand patted the child's shoulder gently. "I helped him out, fixed him up real good."

  "Okay." The girl nodded, looking thoughtful. "Paladin Brandis is okay too. That's good. He's important." 

  "'Important', huh?" Backhand echoed, knowing she must sound bemused. This little girl was just being so serious , like she was trying to seem more adult. It was sweet, in a sad way. A testament to the burden put on these kids at such a young age.

  "Yes." The little girl puffed herself up a bit. "We need Paladin Brandis. He's important ."

  "Why is he important?" Backhand queried curiously. 

  "We…" the squire hesitated, like she had said too much. "He just is. I can't tell you. S'a secret."

  Backhand gave the child a salute, nodding. "Of course. Don't worry, I won't compromise your mission." 

  "W-Well, good!" She stuttered, adjusting her cap and giving Backhand a salute in return. "Ad Victoriam, knight. I gotta' go." She scampered off, leaving Backhand confused and somewhat entertained.

  He's important . 

  As she tucked in for the night, Backhand wondered what the child had meant. Was the squire being needlessly cryptic? Maybe she had overheard something she wasn't supposed to? 

  Backhand stared up at the dimly-lit innards of the Prydwen, the ribs of the massive airship barely visible in the dark. Another mystery , she mused ruefully. Her return to Sanctuary couldn't come soon enough.

  …

  Danse was summoned to the command deck at six hundred hours the following morning. He should have known that he wouldn't even be able to enjoy the company of Haylen and Rhys without suffering some kind of consequence.

  He hated how sweaty his palms were as he stood at attention, his back ramrod straight.

  "Paladin Danse, I was given your briefing yesterday by Knight-Captain Cade. Is there any particular reason you didn't come to me personally?" Arthur asked, sounding almost bored. Danse might have believed it if not for the current of anger that rasped in his voice.

  "Proctor Ingram sent me directly to Cade, Elder Maxson. My armor was in poor shape and she was concerned about my bodily state." The paladin replied evenly.

  "Brandis showed up well before you did. Why is that, Danse?"

  "Local civilians informed myself and Knight Vega of a super mutant infestation. It was during our assault on the compound that my armor took the damage. I needed time to repair-"

  Danse's explanation was cut off by the sound of heavy boots on the large ladder between decks. Brandis of all people emerged from the porthole, offering Danse a quick nod before focusing his attention on Maxson. "Elder! I have a request for flight support from-"

  "Brandis, how many times do I have to tell you not to interrupt me?" Arthur snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  "And how many times do I have to tell you that nothing about the military is convenient or willing to wait on your long-winded tomfoolery?" Brandis retorted. "I have a knight requesting flight support, Maxson, and the presence of Paladin Danse."

  "Me?" Danse asked in confusion.

  Elder Maxson growled, then nodded. "Very well . I suppose your report from Cade will have to do. But in the future , Paladin Danse, I expect you in person on the command deck. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Of course, Elder." Danse saluted dutifully. "Ad Victoriam." Arthur just waved him off, obviously irritated. 

  Once they had returned to the engineering deck, Brandis clapped Danse on the shoulder. "Sorry about that, I didn't realize that he would try for you so early!" He apologized. "Knight Vega has been rarin' since five. I know he denied you air support before, but Vega said you two have a long ways to go for the assignment she picked up from Quinlan. It's easier to get something out of that little curmudgeon if you baffle him with rapid-fire requests."

  Danse sputtered, unsure if he had ever heard someone refer to the elder as a little curmudgeon . "I am glad that your respect for Elder Maxson is just as strong as ever, Paladin Brandis." He managed to say.

  "Arthur has gotten too big for a combination of his britches, his father's britches, and his grandfather's britches." Brandis chuckled, "it does him good to get brought back down to earth once in a while." He straightened up, giving Danse a gentle push in the direction of the armor bay. "Now go, go go get suited up before he changes his mind!" The older paladin urged impatiently.

  Danse noted when he reached the grease pit that Vega's armor was gone. Obviously she had wanted to get an early start. Danse grimaced ruefully, zipping up his jumpsuit. No matter what he did, it seemed to be the wrong thing. He wished he could go back to his bunk and try again in an hour or so. 

  He shook his head, then stepped into his armor. The gaskets hissed as the unit was sealed, the back plate latching down firmly. Danse picked up his new helmet, absently flipping it out of habit and then sliding it onto his head until it clicked into the gorget seal. The heads-up display flickered to life in front of his eyes, all readings nominal. Green across the board , as Lancer-Captain Kells would say.

  His heavy sabatons clunking firmly on the metal catwalks, Danse made his way to the flight deck.

  Backhand was there, her helmet tucked under her arm as she chatted animatedly with the pilot that ( presumably ) was taking them to their location. Danse still had no idea what their assignment was. Hell, he didn't even know if there was an assignment or if this was all just a conspiracy cooked up by Vega and Brandis to get him away from Maxson.

  A combination of embarrassment and gratitude flushed Danse's face beneath his helmet. He was relatively sure that neither of them knew what was truly going on between himself and Maxson. Maybe they had assumed the worst, thought that he was being abused or something to that effect. But it wasn't... really , technically. He was following orders. Orders that made him sick to his stomach and hot with shame, but he was a Brotherhood soldier and he would do as the elder commanded him.

  "Glad to see you taking initiative, Knight Vega." Danse commented loudly over the roar of the vertibird engine. 

  "Paladin! Good to see you bright and early. We have our heading from Proctor Quinlan, and I know just the place. This fine gal will be droppin' us off in Concord." Backhand explained and the pilot grinned, waving off the praise and gesturing for the two of them to climb aboard.

  …

  Backhand was practically vibrating with excitement when they finally touched down just outside of Concord. She was off and running down the main thoroughfare, leaving Danse to catch up with her.

  "Knight Vega!" The paladin protested.

  "Time is of the essence, Paladin!" Backhand yelled in reply, slowing briefly to a jog. 

  "Where are we even going , Vega?" Danse shouted. She didn't bother to answer, just making a sweeping motion with her arm as if to say hurry up! "I fail to see the strategic advantage of the two of us careening through the town like a stampede of brahmin!"

  "Just follow me and stop complaining!" Backhand laughed, maintaining her pace up the hill to the Red Rocket gas station. She paused at the top, waiting for Danse to come up alongside her before she pointed across the river. "Look." She said, a little breathless.

  Danse obliged, the paladin going still. "Another settlement?"

  "This is where I lived before the war." Backhand informed him, "Sanctuary Hills."

  Danse made a noise of acknowledgment, shifting his weight. "And the reason why we're here?" He pressed after a moment.

  Backhand smiled under her helmet, patting his shoulder. "Technical documents. Not only was this little development just teeming with ex-military, if that's not good enough my vault is up the hill."

  He was silent for a time and Backhand was getting a little worried that she had upset him somehow, but then out of the blue, " outstanding , Knight Vega." The warmth in his tone was unmistakable and she couldn't even bring herself to make a joke about his trademark term, too flustered by his praise to do anything aside from nod and start walking across the old bridge.

  Dogmeat came galloping to greet her, the mutt barking excitedly and fawning around her legs after she ejected from her power armor. "Hey Meat! Who's a good boy? Who's the best boy?" Backhand crooned, giving him belly rubs when he begged for them. 

  "Ah, Miss Vega! It is, as always, a delight to have you return to us. You look well!" Codsworth bubbled, the Mister Handy breezing over to her from his usual spot maintaining the patchy hedges. "And who is this that you've brought with you? Will I need to set an extra plate at dinner?" He inquired, two out of three eyestalks gazing up at the impassive paladin. 

  "Codsworth, this is Paladin Danse. I hope you can help the two of us out with a little project." Backhand said seriously, tapping her forehead against the cool metal of Codsworth's third eye. 

  The robot sputtered, "But of course , mum! Whatever the two of you need, if there's any way at all that I might assist you, I shall do my best." He waved his appendages around, mimicking a fighting stance. "Are there more ruffians about, mum? More interlopers? Has the Red Menace finally come to our doorstep? I'll give them a thorough drubbing, just send them my way!" He said staunchly.

  Backhand chuckled, shaking her head. "Nothing quite as exciting as all that, Codsworth. My friend works for a group that's dedicated to curating and preserving technology, and we were sent out expressly to find documents that might be useful. I know you've been here for a while, and I was hoping that you might-"

  "Oh, if it's old, musty, suspicious documents you're after, Miss Vega, I must say you've come to the right place!" Codsworth lowered his voice conspiratorially, "why, I've got it on good faith that your neighbor was a dirty commie spy! " He sounded scandalized. "Mr. Sturges says that I am too quick to jump to conclusions, but can you even imagine-? "

  "Codsy, if I told you once I told you a thousand times, don ' t you be puttin' words in my mouth!" Sturges shouted from his usual position by the workbench, giving Backhand a friendly wave. "Howdy General, how was your vacation?"

  "A nightmare." Vega admitted, "Weston was infested all over again." 

  "Oo, that's a tough place to get a handle on. I assume you got it sorted though? I mean, you're the general for a reason." The man mused, wiping his hands off on a rag and cocking his head. "So this is the fella' from the police station? Land sakes, you didn't skimp on your description." He teased, making Backhand wince self-consciously as he sauntered over. "I know Preston's got mixed feelin's on the Brotherhood, but I figure any heavily-armored port in a radstorm, right?" 

  Sturges stopped in front of Danse, squinting up at the man's helmet. Danse removed it after a moment, the seal hissing and steaming a little in the cool morning air. "Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel." He intoned, extending one large gauntlet to the mechanic.

  Sturges chuckled, gamely shaking the massive hand presented to him. "Sturges. I fix things. Suppose that'd be an engineer or a mechanic to you military folks."

  "Speaking of fixing things..." Backhand dug into her satchel, tugging free the ream of notes she had from Ingram. "I brought you a present!" She sang, passing the incomprehensible sheaf of paper to the other man.

  Sturges whistled after flipping through the first few pages, his eyebrows launching up until they were hidden by his goggles. "Damn, this is good. General, this is real good. Like, ' we might pull this off ' kinda' good!" He said giddily. 

  "Yeah?" Backhand replied eagerly. "Danse and I will be here for a few days, so if Jun or Marcy are busy-"

  "I'll ask you, of course. Thanks for this, General. It really helps to have an extra pair of eyes lookin' over my work." Sturges drawled sincerely. 

  "How is Mama Murphy doing?" Vega asked, twiddling her fingers nervously.

  "She got up earlier this mornin'! She came out and had her coffee with me. I'd say she's doin' better. Shorin' herself up." Sturges smiled. "We got a lifetime of chem problems to work through, y'know, so I ain't expectin' any overnight miracles."

  "Yeah, I guess not." Backhand frowned. "I still wish there was more I could do."

  Sturges put a hand on her arm. "You done more than enough, General. More than most folks would have. Don't worry about Mama Murphy. She's a tough ol' gal."

  …

  Evening fell over the settlement and Danse was grateful for the opportunity to simply rest his eyes. He knew why Quinlan had such thick glasses now. He had only dug into one box of documents and his head was still spinning from all the fine print!

  Backhand yawned, eyes lidding and mouth going slack with the effort. "God, I am beat ." She confessed, laughing a little. "It's pretty sad that all it takes to get me braindead is reading about failed observations and leafing through old refrigerator manuals."

  "I find the manuals miles more interesting. I've always enjoyed that sort of practical research." Danse remarked. "It has real-life applications in the field, but these other things…" he heaved a sigh. "I wish Haylen had been permitted to come along with us. She is far more adept when it comes to cataloging. I was not trained as a scribe."

  "Well, I would say we should burn the midnight oil, but I'm pretty sure we've both got mush for brains right now." Vega got to her feet, taking a moment for a full-body stretch. "We can get back to this tomorrow. Right now, I'm hungry."

  "Dinner will be ready in a moment, mum!" Codsworth assured from his spot just outside the front door, continuing to rotate the meat on its spit over the fire.

  Danse abruptly realized that he was starving , the delicious smell of the roasting yao guai making his stomach rumble. It had been hours since they had eaten, and he had been so focused on the task at hand that he hadn't even noticed. He neatly collected the papers spread out on the floor and shuffled them all together, placing them on top of the boxes Vega had already made her way through. 

  Truthfully, this neighborhood had been a hotbed of observation and it made him feel a little antsy now that he didn't have the mind-numbing documents to distract him. It was foolish to be concerned about such things, Danse told himself. Anyone who might have been observing this area was long dead. It wasn't as if he and Backhand would be spirited away in the night by 'the men in suits'. Although...it was a little disconcerting to realize that those occurrences were considered normal back in the pre-war era.

  Knight Vega, oblivious to his inner quandary, was digging through the rickety refrigerator. "You want a Nuka? Or a beer?" She asked.

  Danse opened his mouth. Hesitated. Bought himself time by climbing upright and doing his own series of light stretches. One beer was surely acceptable in the field? Surely? He had known many a commanding officer that hadn't let their duties stop them from getting intoxicated. It had been a short eternity since he had imbibed any spirits. 

  Surely just one would be alright. "Beer, please." 

  In a motion so fluid it must have been muscle memory, Vega hooked the cap of the beer on the edge of the battered formica counter and quickly slammed it down, prying off the top with ease. "Cheers, Paladin." She tipped the bottle to him and Danse caught it around the neck, nodding his thanks before taking a long drink. 

  Being alone was dangerous in the field, he mused for the hundredth time, as it made him neglect his own needs. He hadn't even noticed that he was hungry or thirsty until Backhand insisted that they pause for the evening. Danse couldn't even count the amount of nights Haylen or Rhys had to force him to stop patrolling the police station so he would get some rest. It was just so easy for him to sink into a rut, a routine, ignoring everything else in favor of it. 

  Her own Nuka Cola received the same treatment, foaming up a little in protest. Backhand laughed, hurrying to gulp the soda down before it overflowed. 

  "Where will I be bunking for the evening, Knight Vega?" Yes, Danse was technically in charge, technically her sponsor, but this was her house. He wasn't so bold to presume that he would be permitted to sleep wherever he wanted.

  Backhand tapped her lips with the Nuka Cola bottle as she appeared to think. "I mean, we can haul a bed into here for you? I imagine you don't want to sleep on the floor." She reasoned.

  "I would rather not, if there is an available bed." Danse agreed, grimacing. 

  "Alright, after dinner me and Sturges can grab one of the extra beds." 

  "Alternatively, you can direct me to it and I can move it myself." Danse didn't mean to sound so petulant, but he hardly needed another man and his ward to accomplish a task he should be more than capable of. Backhand began to laugh, her mirth making Danse scowl self-consciously. " What? " He finally muttered.

  "Nothing! Nothing at all. I will absolutely take you to the bed ." Backhand sputtered.

  Danse took a moment to consider her words, and a reluctant smile disrupted his stoic expression. "Honestly Knight, you are incorrigible ." He huffed, unable to bite back his own chuckle at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Here they were, laughing like aspirants over some inadvertently ribald humor. He felt foolish, though not necessarily in a bad way. "Yes yes, Knight Vega, take me to bed." He announced, outstretching a hand to her. "Next thing you know, you'll be making jokes about sleeping together." 

  His heart raced when she winked at him. "We've already done that, keep up Paladin!"

Part Nine

[m-oonrises]

12:10am

Tsukki asks for Yamaguchi's help interpreting an english passage for his homework. One of them tries to be brave.

part 2/? of yamaguchi and tsukishima‘s almost confessions 

"Yamaguchi, are you still up?" The knock comes just as he's about to throw on his covers. It's a bit past midnight, and Tsukishima probably knows it's way past his bed time. It's fine, Yamaguchi guesses that the lack of boundaries is what being best friends are for.

"Yeah, Tsukki, hold on," he opens the door to find the tall boy with a bunch of papers in hand. He stifles a yawn. "I was just about to pass out, you came just in time."

"Oh. Sorry, it can wait. It's just homework," Tsukishima doesn't look at him directly as he begins to turn from the door.

"Tsukki," he calls, but only slightly out of want and more of duty. He's lost whatever drowsiness he had a few minutes ago. If Tsukishima, his smart and immensely independent friend, is desperate enough to consult him at 12:10 am about homework, then as his best friend, he is obliged to.

It's not like they even had reason to still have boundaries when it comes to mundane things. The two of them have spent most of their lives together—from their painfully embarrassing shared childhood, to the highs and lows of high school. And when both he and Tsukishima got into the same University, it had been the logical choice to rent an apartment together.

It's mid-October and the nights are starting to get really cold. But joke's on you mother nature, Yamaguchi thinks, the mere knowledge that Tsukki lives and breathes a couple of meters away gives him all the warmth he needs.

"I can't get the meaning of this paragraph. I thought you might be able to help me," Tsukishima trails off and gestures at the clock, "I can just search it up online, though."

Yamaguchi nevertheless asks for the paper—the "It's okay, I can help" goes without saying. Toward the end of high school, Yamaguchi started getting into English Literature, intrigued by its history and forms. He wasn't the best in English when he started, but through hard work (and his then growing passion for short form English fiction) he slowly became one of the top students in their senior year English class. So it came as no surprise to anyone when he enlisted for English & Writing as an elective on their first year in University. What was a surprise, however, was Tsukishima deciding at the last minute that he'd give the class a go, too.

Today's topic for class had been "Psychology of the Self" and their professor had asked the class to write a short introspective piece about their thoughts and feelings. After which, they were asked to exchange with someone else in class, and that person was put in charge of analyzing the piece.

"Here, I can give it a read," he sets his pillows aside and takes the paper from Tsukishima's hand, motioning that the tall boy sit beside him. Tsukishima only sits by the edge of the bed.

Yamaguchi skims through the words and immediately sees that their classmate probably has had experience in writing. Albeit, a little bit cheesy but it gets the message across.

"How do I begin to explain the storm you've stirred in my heart? It's the wind that takes me high and low, that which also lives inside me, breaking through the cages of my chest, threatening to explode to reach you but can't. One day, I'll ride its gusts and fly myself to you, If I ever find the bravery."

"Oh, these are all a metaphor," he offers. Yamaguchi can feel his fingers buzz a bit while tracing the sentences, he feels like a philologist (is that what they call it?) that someone's just consulted and he's deciphering some sort of ancient text. "It's about feeling a certain way about someone, and," he clears his throat, "and feeling so much and just wanting to tell them, but not being able to. You know, that whole cliché unrequited love sort of thing."

Yes, cliché, and yet Yamaguchi knows the feeling all too well. Not to say that he hasn't had the occasional crush or fling here and there. In fact, he's received a good number of confessions toward his last year in high school, especially when he became captain. He still gets them today, and he definitely doesn't deny that some of them were cute. But Tsukki has been and always will be an ever-present presence in his life that made him want to explode, and he's constantly at the verge, held together only by a holed wall of pride he's so expertly managed to keep up. Yamaguchi's tried to repair the damage to no avail; liking Tsukki is an ages old thing that he has accepted to be an irreversible fact about himself.

"Really. Why doesn't he just tell them, then?" Tsukishima says, sounding annoyed as always, but Yamaguchi finds it a little bit out of character for him to bother with trivial things like unrequited feelings. Tsukishima continues, demanding, "If he feels he's about to explode and everything like he says."

"I don't know, Tsukki, I guess it isn't always easy," especially when you're pretty sure they don't feel the same way, Yamaguchi thinks, and you practically live with them, and they've been your best friend for just about forever, Tsukki, and whoop-dee-doo, I guess it's not really that big of a deal that everything you ever had together would be put at stake if you tell them.

"Right," Tsukishima begins, "makes sense."

The topic ends abruptly and the room goes silent. If Tsukki could read Yamaguchi's thoughts, he'd start panting from how fast they're running. The air around has suddenly become thick and he feels like he needs to focus on breathing else he'll forget.

Just as he's started drowning in his own embarrassing thoughts, Tsukishima breaks the silence when he shifts from where he's awkwardly positioned on the corner of the bed and moves just a tad bit closer, infiltrating Yamaguchi's space. He's so close that Yamaguchi can feel his warm breathing and the burning of his eyes which were now meeting the freckled boy's.

His best friend has slept over his room so many times; it isn't anything new. But Tsukki isn't the type to linger around after conversations end, Yamaguchi knows this, never the one to initiate anything. This, despite how normal it may seem, is not anything he's been expecting.

And he's definitely not expecting it when Tsukishima touches his arm lightly, opening his mouth once like he wants to say something and stops, and tries again, and—

"Yamaguchi," his voice is soft but firm, "I've been meaning to tell you something."

At this point, his hearing has been muffled by the rush of blood to his ears prompted by Tsukishima's earlier touch.

"This may sound weird but, Yamaguchi, I—"

His phone rings, as if on cue, his phone fucking rings. It's Hinata's name flashing to his ridiculous ringtone and he only feels a little bit bad thinking about how he actually wants to strangle his dear friend right now for unknowingly interrupting what could be the moment of moments. He quickly rejects the call, but Tsukishima's already snapped out of whatever trance he was in.

"Sorry, Tsukki, uh, you were saying?" Shit. It's probably the ringtone. The ringtone must've thrown Tsukki off.

"Oh-uh, nothing." Tsukishima only looks a little bit dazed before clearing his throat, and in the most Tsukishima way, calm and stoic, asks, "I was just leaving. Uh, Will you be up at seven? I can cook breakfast. You have class at nine right?"

"Oh, okay!" he tries his best not to sound disappointed at the shift. "Thanks Tsukki. Hmm, we can get coffee after! I'll walk you to class, too," Yamaguchi says and immediately wonders if he said it too enthusiastically.

"Yeah, okay," A pink color has noticeably stained Tsukishima's cheeks, but Yamaguchi doesn't comment on it, "thanks again, Yamaguchi."

"Anytime, Tsukki." He almost misses the faint smile on the blond boy's lips as he closes the door.

—

"One day, I'll ride its gusts and fly myself to you, If I ever find the bravery."

Yamaguchi threads the passage in his mind over and over. The events just moments ago hasn't sunk in yet. Could it be that it really isn't just him who lacked the bravery? And if he and Tsukki both really were thinking it, should he have been the one to go for it, instead? Should he have pushed further earlier? Maybe so. He turns his light off and settles back into his covers, setting his alarm clock to seven.

Sorry for not being brave enough today, Tsukki—staring at the ceiling, he imagines sending an invisible beam from his mind to the boy now two rooms down and hopes to the heavens that whatever his best friend was trying to say, he'll try saying again soon. Hopefully, he'll be brave enough then—Sorry, Tsukki, maybe tomorrow, we can try again.

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER FIVE - THEM GATORS

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 2,993

The moon had an eerie glow as it casted its light through the drapery of hanging moss and onto the murky waters of the swamp below. It was a heavily hot and humid evening, sweat dripped steadily down her back as Roxana watched the scene before her with disinterest. 

Despite the shine of the moon, it was still difficult to see, but what she heard was unmistakable. Garbled shouts along with the occasional high-pitched shriek countered the spine-chilling sounds of crunching bones and tearing flesh. They didn’t last long. Once the screams subsided, the only noises that remained were the occasional splash of water and something akin to a branch snapping every so often. 

She could almost hear a distant yet familiar voice rattle off in her head. “Them gators’ll eat up anything you throw em. Meat, muscle, and bones! You name it!”

Suddenly she felt a change in the atmosphere and looked over to see the dark figure of a certain vampire standing on the other side of the dock. Dull thuds from his footsteps echoed around them as he slowly made his way over to stand by her side. For a moment they watched in silence as the alligators had a go at the victims in the bayou.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” She murmured and looked over. He tilted his head down at the blood-filled waters with a small snarl and then set his eyes on her; they were filling with inky black tendrils and glowing the darkest red. In an instant, he was gripping her tightly, his talons digging into the back of her neck, and bending her head to a harsh angle that gave him full access to her jugular. 

Dracula flashed her a deadly smile, “On the contrary, my dear, I can do anything I want.”

His descent was swift; she felt the sharp fangs sink into her throat and let her eyes roll back. Sagging into his hold, she felt the darkness open its arms to drink her in. 

Roxana woke with a gasp and shot straight up in her bed. 

Looking around frantically, she struggled to pinpoint her surroundings and then Fifolet meowed from across the room, jarring her back to reality. She was home and in her room. Safe. 

Her next course of action was feeling up and down her neck to make sure the dream was truly just a figment of her imagination. It remained wound-free. She exhaled loudly and collapsed back against her sheets.

The light of the morning sun cut across her room like a lance. Dim shadows danced along the ceiling as her fan spun on and on. It creaked slightly as it bounced back and forth, barely hanging onto its hinges, but all Roxana could hear was the thumping of her own heart. 

Just a dream. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. The sounds of the world awake and hustling outside her window gave her just enough motivation to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. The persistence and volume of the cat’s cries grew in earnest as it followed Roxana to the kitchen, positively demanding to be fed and let back outside. When she opened the door, it happily darted underneath the neighbor's house and wouldn’t be seen again until the evening.

There was a slight chill, but the skies were clear and the sun would soon warm up the city enough to make it a pleasant day. She walked back to her room to grab her phone and check the time, it was a still bit early but she didn’t mind. It was then noticed a text notification. The number was unknown but the text below read, in all caps; UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN accompanied by a vampire emoji. 

Roxana blinked and put the phone back down. Apparently not all the events of the previous night were a dream. 

With another long sigh, she went to the kitchen and started her morning routine. Coffee first, then shower, and then off to run errands. 

As she closed and locked up her front door, Roxana took a deep breath of fresh air and smiled. All thoughts of the fanged menace were pushed far from her mind and would be addressed another day. She threw on her sunglasses and strode off towards the streetcar. 

——

Dracula loved sunrises. After missing thousands of them, he tried to make a daily effort to watch. He enjoyed spending time memorizing the way the sun would paint the sky with fire before melting down into a sea of pastel purples, pinks, and oranges until the bold blues wiped the other colors and clouds from view. It was especially invigorating after a nice meal. 

He dropped the still-warm body to the ground and smacked his lips, bringing his hand up to wipe a smidge of blood from the corner of his mouth. A finely aged thirty-something man who was five years sober and treated his body like a temple. Slightly tangy, but not as bad as Dracula had expected. Almost like a healthy smoothie.

As they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

The blood pooled a little around the body, sinking into the wooden floorboards, and the apartment began to creak and moan. Dracula rolled his eyes, “Yes, another one, get over it. You lot should have enough souls to get a real party going in here, so cheer up, hm?” 

A window shudder snapped close to his left and a couple of doors slammed rather loudly down the hall. He could hear chains faintly rattling in the far bedroom but paid no mind.

“As always, you’ll find no pity from me.” He addressed the room and the house gave one last protest in the form of a teacup flying by his head, shattering against the wall. Dracula raised a brow but remained unmoved. “Bloody haunted houses.”

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his servant’s number while walking to the other side of the apartment. Renfield answered on the first ring, “Good morning, my lord.”

“I need you to dispose of a body.”

“Oh, al-already?”

Dracula glanced back at the face-down corpse sprawled out by the couch. 

“Why, have something more important to do?” He turned back to the window that peered out over Jackson Square. Watching all the artists begin to set up their carts and tables and tricks and instruments and anything they could to make some sort of salvageable living. “I will say, this one was a tad bit messy. He was a fighter.”

“I think he taught jiu-jitsu by the lakefront, sir.”

“Ah, that’s it. Was just on the tip of my tongue.” Dracula liked the rush of tapping the veins of a martial artist. It tasted of perseverance, power, and control; maybe a slight hint of unadulterated anger towards someone...Dracula licked his lips in thought, oh there it is, the man was mad about his ex. Well that’s disappointingly anti-climactic, he mused.

The count’s attention was drawn to a familiar figure now weaving through the maze of workshops below. Roxana Van Helsing. He watched as she made her rounds through the throngs of artists and palm readers and tarot card fortune-tellers; all the while smiling so brightly and greeting various people as she made her way towards the river. It seemed that she knew nearly every regular who set up shop in the square. She hugged some of the tarot card and palm readers, waved at the painters as they hung their work on the wrought iron fence, and she even blew a kiss to a man painted black and gold and stood like a statue, but didn’t miss a beat as he caught the flying smooch and sent her a wink in return.

“How interesting...” He murmured, not able to take his eyes off of the woman floating around cheerfully below. After all the pleasantries, she crossed the street and set off towards the French Market. 

“My lord?”

He momentarily forgot he was still on the phone. “Nothing. Get over here and take care of this. The flies are starting to gather.”

“But the council - “

“Toss the body in the river or burn it, I don’t care.” Dracula snapped; the council, for lack of a better term, and their pesky rules were starting to grate on his nerves. “Just make sure to stake the poor bastard. The last thing I need right now is Keres pestering me about some monster waking up in the Bahamas or wherever.”

With a not-so-discreet sigh, Renfield acquiesced, “Of course, sir.”

“Be quick about it.” Dracula clicked the end call button and shoved his phone in his pant pocket. Turning on his heel, the count swept out of the apartment and headed the same direction he saw her walking. 

It didn’t take long for Dracula to find Roxana purchasing a coffee from one of the stands in the market. He slid into the shadows easily and watched from a distance while she meandered around, chatting with people here and there, looking over all the paintings, sculptures, jewelry, and clothing that were handmade by locals. Her smile was a beam of light that never seemed to fade. It was always there, he noticed curiously, from a large grin to a little smirk, her lips were quirked at all times. Was it genuine? He couldn’t fathom the notion of someone being that happy. Especially mortals. They always complained about something. 

Roxana wound herself around the last few stands, exited to the street, and made her way down towards Esplanade. Still maintaining discretion, he followed her along the broken sidewalks all the way into the Marigny, an adorably idiosyncratic suburb just to the east of the quarter. 

There was a small church nestled in between some houses with large white picnic tables and canopy pop-ups set up out front. Each table was covered with large catering trays and enormous cooking pots, about six or seven people stood behind it putting on gloves and aprons, and there was a line that went on around the block. Leaning back against a tree, Dracula tilted his head as he observed her embrace what looked to be the woman in charge and then put on the proffered apron and gloves. Roxana took over one of the stations and started to dish out plates of red beans and rice. 

One by one, she asked them how their day was and would give them a bowl, wishing them well. Everyone was friendly to each other; those in need were visibly grateful and those supplying were simply content to help in any way they could. 

A strange sight for the old vampire, it had been a good long while since he had seen such compassion. 

Dracula wasn’t sure how long he watched Roxana, but once the crowd started to dwindle down to the last few homeless folk in search of a warm meal, the sun had already begun its descent into the afternoon. 

The volunteers packed up the tables and dishes and trash into a few truck beds before giving out another round of hugs and bidding one another farewell. Roxana waited for the last truck to leave until she put on her light jacket and turned to make her own departure. He figured that was about as good a moment as any to make an appearance and was instantly by her side. 

“Fancy seeing you here - “ Dracula began but before he could finish she let out a shriek and jumped nearly a foot in the air. Instinctively, he held out a hand to make sure she didn’t tumble over, but to his surprise, Roxana turned and delivered a solid punch to his chest. Not that it hurt by any means, but the shock of the assault made him take a step back and slacken his jaw in offense. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t do that!” She gripped her chest, frantically trying to control her now racing heart. “Where the hell did you even come from?”

She glared up at him and the ferocity of it made him laugh so she sent another punch to his arm, which made him laugh even harder. He took another step back, dodging more of her blows, and raised his hands in defense. “It was totally worth it, you should’ve seen your face.”

Roxana groaned and ceased fire, “Have you been following me all day?”

The faux-innocence that Dracula's face displayed spoke volumes. 

She continued down the sidewalk back towards the quarter, but after a few steps she realized he hadn’t moved. So she turned back with a hand on her hip, “Well? Don’t be shy now, if you’re going to be my shadow then might as well get over here.”

His long legs were quick to shorten the distance between them and matched her pace as they began to walk side by side. 

They were quiet for a few blocks, the sounds of cars cruising by, birds chirping around, and dogs barking off in the distance easily filled the void. Dracula noticed she kept stealing glances his way, subtly - he’d give her that - but nonetheless it made him smirk. “I can see there is something you’re just dying to say.”

Roxana hopped over a large crack in the sidewalk before looking back up at him, “How are you here? I mean, in the sunlight, isn’t that supposed to...you know?”

She drew the side of a thumb across her throat mimicking certain death and he grinned. 

“Yes, well, it turns out that was just a funny little myth too.” Dracula shrugged casually. She noticed his dark sunglasses, loosely coiffed hair, and easy little smile and decided that he looked entirely too content in the daytime. It was a strange sight to behold a vampire sauntering around under the bright sun. The horror!

“Wait a second.” Roxana stopped in her tracks causing him to slow as well and pivot back in question. Her brow furrowed and he could practically see the wheels spinning in her head. “You mean this is a recent discovery?”

Dracula narrowed his gaze suspiciously, not knowing where she was going with this, “In comparison to how long I was unaware? Yes.”

“Did you ever check?”

“Check what?”

“You know, to see if it would actually burn you.” A large cicada buzzed and crackled as it flew by. “Like maybe sticking a pinkie finger out in the light? Test the waters?”

The nerve in his jaw ticked as Dracula clenched his teeth and stared at her for a moment, unreadable behind the Ray Bans he wore. 

“No, huh?” Rocana burst out laughing, “So you spent, what, four hundred years without any sort of proof that you would become a batty barbecue?”

“You’re enjoying this.” His arms were crossed over his chest now and he boasted a very unimpressed glare. 

“You just shaved off ten years of my life with that stunt back there, payback is justified.”

“I could take off quite a few more years than that, my dear.” He said while stepping closer, but his bark lacked its normal bite. 

She patted his arm, “Oh lighten up, cher, I’m just messing around.”

Despite the irritation that she brought out of him, Dracula found that he didn’t mind their banter, it was refreshing to be around someone who challenged him again. He still didn’t care for what she pointed out; he felt ridiculous enough about the whole ordeal and needn’t a reminder of his foolish mistakes. 

“Anyways,” They continued walking, “While I have you, I’d like to know more about this whole soirée coming up, what exactly is that all about?”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know too terribly much, this is sort of my initiation into the council.” He said with slight disgust towards the idea. As if the mere thought of him having to go through a trial just to be part of something was beyond absurd. “Before you ask - because I know you will - the council is the organization that deals with maintaining the city’s supernatural and mortal order.”

“There must be a lot of supernatural folk for a council to have been formed.”

“Oh you have no idea!” He laughed as her eyebrows shot up. “A lot more than even I was aware of before moving here, that’s for sure.”

“All vampires?’

“No, not all, but quite a few of us.”

“Are there werewolves?”

“Why, do you prefer dogs? I thought you were one of those crazy cat ladies.” He smirked as she pushed his arm. “No, no wolves down here, it’s far too hot for those beasts. I have heard of a swamp creature, but have not seen one yet myself. Sounds exciting though.”

“Oh, really?” Roxana's mouth turned into a frown as she looked down in concern, almost muttering to herself. “I should probably warn Memaw. Oh who am I kidding, she has her voodoo for protection, she won’t listen to me.”

“I’m sorry - your what?” 

They came to a stop at a traffic light and waited to cross the street. Roxana forgot he was there for a moment and her head shot up, giggling a little at his confusion, “‘Memaw’? Means ‘grandmother’. It doesn’t matter. Hey, I’m starving, want to grab some food with me? There’s a great spot just around the corner.”

At the mention of eating, Dracula looked down at her neck and licked his lips, damn did it look appetizing. It was a good thing he was wearing sunglasses and she couldn’t see the hunger that darkened his eyes. “Roxana, my dear, I would be delighted.”

Taglist:

@festering-queen​ @vissidarte213​ @moony691​ @torntaltos​

[maevelin]

1/2 What I found so difficult to grasp in acowar (I hated the entire trilogy, although acotar had a lot of potential), was that Feyre didn't fight. It completely contradicts her whole arc and journey up till that point. Acomaf was her realising that she wanted to play a part in the war, she wanted to fight to defend her sisters and Prythian. One of her biggest arguments with Tamlin revolved around that. She spent acomaf learning how to fight, how to use her powers. Except she didn't.

2/2 Worse, she didn’t want to. The only reason SJM did this was because she wanted a satellite to showcase what was going on and Feyre was right there for her to use. All seven of the High Lords fought, but the High Lady, who was supposed to be the strongest, didn’t. She spent her time observing and being with her mate. That’s all she did. Even her actions in the Spring Court turned against her. I hated ACOWAR for many reasons, but that was definitely one of my top ones.

—

ACOWAR was a mess in many ways. I don’t hate the trilogy (except Acowar lol) but I do think it is awfully overrated. Generally speaking SJM has the tendency to hype things to an epic extent and in the end, she just can’t deliver (anyone remembers the riddle in the first book? lol). It is beyond her writing capabilities in my opinion. She does have a vision that should it be executed correctly it would indeed give a great pay off that obviously, the execution was bad. There was no substance. No real stakes. No loss that gave no realism whatsoever so everything was just polished (as a conclusion because the writing and the editing were anything but) and easy. No substance. Most of the things were convenient and anticlimactic. Basically, we had so many pages leading to a halfhearted lukewarm narration because everything was more telling than showing. You could take out 1/3 of the book and it would be the same. In the end, all the buildup and led to a sloppy mess.

That been said I didn’t mind that Feyre didn’t fight. Yes, the first person PoV can limit some of the options to the writers that don’t know how to use it correctly so SJM used -badly- Feyre’s voice as a satellite around everything as you pointed out.

But in the narrative, it wasn’t exactly out of reason. Yes, everything before that seemed to be leading there. But the issue Feyre had with Tamlin was not that he was not letting her fight exactly. It was the lack of choice. She had no voice. She had no options. She was not free to decide if she was going to fight or not. That was decided for her and in the end what she wanted, what she thought, what she felt had no importance and was sidelined. Feyre breaking free from that and eventually deciding for herself not to fight was as empowering as it would be for her to fight. Because it was her decision and hers alone. 

Yes she is a massive weapon given the powerhouse she turned to be (and I have things to say about this that fall to the Mary Sue special snowflake department but I digress) and under a different leadership her powers could have been applied far more effectively but in the end Feyre’s worth was not defined by her powers and she was not treated as an object to win a war. Should she have been? Given how this war was described and the lack of options and what would happen if they lost (which they knew very well) and how it was a matter of desperately needing all hands on deck and not having the luxury of stepping back…mmm… It is a big discussion. That can bring arguments both in favor of it and against such a decision. Military wise it was one of the book’s weaknesses in the way it was handled anyway. Everything about this war was simplified and romanticized and didn’t add up with what we were told it was going to be or what it was presented to be.

The thing, however, is that Feyre was just 20 years old. She was and is too young. She barely had been able to tap into her powers and their potential. She had been traumatized and was still healing and struggling. She had never been in a war. It is easy to say ‘but why didn’t she fight’ but it is not so simple. She had never been inside an army. She never knew the horrifying reality of it. Sure, in theory, it was easy to say I’ll fight but the reality of it was different. Taking a very young inexperienced civilian (from another country to add to that) that has no understanding of what war means, has never been into a bloody battlefield and has no training whatsoever when it comes to this and throwing them into the field and expecting them to go for the slaughter and act like a badass soldier and even more so as a badass leader is far more unrealistic and I feel many people would also jump at the opportunity to point that out. It seems that in some cases Feyre can’t win no matter what she does or how she acts and by extension neither can SJM. But the truth is that into the battlefield someone like Feyre could be instead of an asset a liability. 

My issue in Acowar was not that Feyre didn’t fight but how everyone else fought and acted or didn’t. 

How these people won the war is something beyond my understanding. I am even putting the extreme powers, everyone conveniently has, aside. In the end, wars are won by careful planning and strategy. Did we see anything of that at any point? They were all acting like headless chicken running around.There was disarray. Everyone was doing what they wanted without any consistency or consequence. This was meant to be a tight teamwork under strong leadership. Did we actually see that? 

Rhysand had no plan really. He winged most of all and somehow his hidden agendas and ‘plans’ that were treated as “hey I have a secret ace in my sleeve that I haven’t told anyone about. Surprise!’ and were delivered as twists and it was just a sloppy mess. 

Azriel was able to infiltrate the Hybern camp so easily with no worry for the consequences and what it would mean for the outcome of the war if he died or was captured (given his position along with Feyre’s) or what it would mean if he went into the battlefield injured (imagine that) but then this was pointed as heroic instead of plain stupid. Yeah yeah they saved Elain and it was important but we are talking about a WAR here. 

Cassian was meant to be THE General. The Commander. He was instead a suicidal idiot that instead of leading the armies he was all over the place. Generals like him lose wars. 

Morrigan is my main issue here. Feyre not fighting made sense. You know what didn’t make any sense whatsoever? The fact that in the previous books it was hyped that she was THE Morrigan. That in the previous war she made a name for herself. That she had this awesome power that made her a legend. That in the battlefield this would be one of the saving graces that could win any war. Please do tell me what Morrigan’s power is? Really I want to know. I may have missed it somehow. What was her extraordinary value in the field? She fought yes. She supposedly has moves. Good. And we were told that she did and how good she is in combat. Great sure. I am not devaluing it but the writing itself did. Because the trilogy was not leading to that anticlimactic performance that basically gave no answers to the questions and the hype that surrounded Morrigan. Did you see the Night Court’s Third in Command anywhere in the book and more so in the final battle? I am not even here to address Rhysand’s constant vile treatment that deprived her her choices and her options and even her leadership (which was Feyre’s issue with Tamlin but here for The Night Court’s third in command it was just swept under the rug). But really. What was Morrigan’s extraordinary indomitable might everyone feared? Because if she had all that power that even the King of Hybern had seen in Acomaf and was in awe of then what was she waiting for? Why didn’t ANYONE had a strategy here? Why didn’t she used it? She was an awesome kickass fighter but so were all the soldiers that fought out there. What made her so different? They got to the point where they were losing the war and we didn’t see Morrigan being THE Morrigan. Morrigan that is centuries old. Morrigan that had fought in wars and was actually fighting in that one too. The Morrigan you know. Really…I couldn’t believe what I was reading or what I wasn’t reading for that matter.

In the end, everyone had an idea (usually wacky and stupid) and were like let us do that. Sure Jan. Go for it. It is not as if there is anyone taking charge and actually leading.

And do not get me started on how everyone was stopping in the middle of the battle to frigging CHAT! Like are you kidding me? Go and gossip and babble in your free time you idiots! 

Like seriously! It was no wonder that Elain was able to freely and easily take a walk through the battlefield and stab the King. No one else would have been able to do it anyway. It was not just the element of surprise. It was basic incompetence. From all sides concerned.

Not to mention that their half-assed master plan with the cauldron almost destroyed the world/universe because you know they were so clever about it. Which showed in the way they handled themselves in the war and in the whole book really. I mean I shouldn’t have expected much from the people that had as a great plan to show their ‘true’ selves instead of their ridiculous asshole facade and not stay calm in one meeting and couldn’t do that. And while they couldn’t decide with their mean girl invitations where they would meet and what they would wear the King of Hybern ‘ambushed them’ and acted faster which was such a surprise and such a twist.Who would have thought? Right? Riiiiight.

And then the actual war came and …sigh…

I kid you not I kept reading and for the most part when I was not rolling my eyes I was like…morons. 

That sentiment has not really gone away tbh. And that is not even me talking about the other parts of the book that made me salty like the OOC and the suicide pacts and the nonsense in general. 

[mobianflame]

My 27-Hour Getaway in Singapore's Changi Airport terminal - The New York Times

Under a large glass dome, where a falls dives 130 feet through a woods, and a blowing winding road leads past palms and fig plants, orchids and also anthurium, a robotic came rolling around a bend.It was about 5 feets tall, as well as travelling my method. In its framework were actually racks of mineral water as well as, with a lilting voice, it urged passers-by to grab a beverage. Happy, I obliged. Sadly, the robotic failed to linger for chin-wagging-- and not either did I. It was opportunity to move across a Heavens Web suspended even more than 80 feet in the air.So started my airport vacation.Before you recoil at the notion of a flight terminal holiday, let

me detail. This is actually no average flight terminal. It is actually Singapore's Changi: part style playground, component futuristic enjoyment dome. And also while a flight terminal is actually normally a left field-- a swaying door between where you have actually been and also where you're going-- Changi is the uncommon flight terminal that invites you to stay.Indeed, it's therefore inviting, that while planning a vacation to Southeast Asia, I advised to my partner that as opposed to merely transportation at Changi, our experts stay overnight. The program was actually to devote

27 hours making use of its own stunning attractions. I could possibly idle in the rooftop Sunflower Backyard; watch butterflies in the tropical sanctuary; obtain lost in the Looking glass Puzzle; zoom by means of a tube slide; and check out in the house"walking routes,"as green as any type of located outside. Don't bother planes. Changi's site reads through like a brochure for a comprehensive hotel: cost-free flicks in 24-hour movie theaters, old style arcade games, light-and-sound programs starring the escalating waterfall splashing from an oculus in a rooftop. Image

The rear account In 2014, additional than 65.6 million guests passed with Changi. That put it one of the best 20 airports in the globe for traveler traffic, payload as well as plane motions in the most up to date Globe Flight terminal Traffic Document from Airports Authorities International, an exchange affiliation. However as active as Changi is actually, for the final seven years air travelers have voted it the globe's ideal airport terminal, according to Skytrax, the London-based sky transportation score organization. This year, Changi upped the stake through opening up Gem Changi Airport terminal, a glass-and-steel purchasing as well as enjoyment complicated accessible to visitors and locals alike.While extra flight terminals are offering diversions besides upscale buying and consuming-- like the position this year of an immensity side pool and also observation deck at the TWA Hotel at John F. Kennedy International Flight Terminal in New York City-- none have actually forged ahead regarding Changi-- and Gem is actually the most recent evidence of that. Yes, there are trendy dining establishments, stores and also pubs. Yet there are likewise eye-popping yards and also whimsies that definitely would not run out location in Willy Wonka's chocolate manufacturing plant: Pets constructed from intense florals; a field where kids may participate in among smog that climbs coming from the ground; a glass-bottomed link; a bush maze with blossoms that pop finalized prior to you can cease and also smell that they aren't genuine. It's an unlike what our team normally consider an airport terminal. Much more than a century ago, The New York Times disclosed that an aviation leader

called Alberto Santos-Dumont had actually "coined a word. "The year was actually 1902 as well as words was flight terminal. Ultimately, airport would be actually specified in Merriam-Webster as "a place where airplane function." But flight terminals are not simply physical introducing pads. They are actually reader ones, as well. While hanging around to panel, the thoughts flies. It's this enforced pause, when the thoughts can wander and demonstrate, that is just one of the unrecognized benefits of sky travel.So what takes place to a visitor when a flight terminal is actually a high-octane location unto itself? I checked out the Crowne Plaza Changi Airport terminal( called the globe's greatest airport lodging for the

fifth consecutive year, according to Skytrax)to determine. Daybreak check-in It was actually 7 a.m. when I got here at the Crowne Plaza, which I opted for because, regardless of residing in a terminal, the hotel experiences a little like a tropical retreat. (This was actually, it goes without saying, a holiday.)There is actually an outdoor pool

and easy chair, wood patioing, isles along with hands. You can practically dive as much as some rooms. Al fresco hallways flanked by showing pools allow the Singapore heat energy and also offer a sultry environment. And the resort's site alongside a bridge to Jewel indicates you can easily stroll straight in to Changi's most current draw( though it costs a Skytrain ride occasionally for a close-up of the falls ). Considering that my tour was arriving in the early morning, I will set up to pay out an added charge (160 Singapore bucks, or concerning $118)to check-in early, so there certainly was actually no wait on the room. (Those that desire to remain best inside Gem might wish to offer the initial Yotelair a go.) A morning stroll around Gem After unboxing I moved over to Jewel, which its own architect, Moshe Safdie, explained in Architectural Digest as a sort of "magical paradise garden."

Depending on a looking at deck

surrounded by its high plants as well as hundreds of lush hedges-- the falls pouring right by means of the structure-- you can not aid but be actually charmed. I wondered at its originality, range and also charm. Visitors putting on bags and also wheeling baggage stopped to position for images, the drops hissing behind all of them like a contemporary Niagara. When sunshine struck the water so, there was actually also a rainbow. Similar to all paradises, though, there is actually a fine pipes

between imagination and also dystopia. Checking out, it isn't hard to think of a future in which everybody resides in domed metropolitan areas in temperature-controlled, never-ending summertimes. Indications refer to"trails "that you can easily" hike,"as if Jewel's smooth, well-maintained floors are durable canals via the wild. The plants and also bushes around the waterfall have a business label: the Shiseido Woods Valley, after the Japanese elegance business. The falls is formally recognized as the HSBC Storm Vortex. And it's encompassed by retail stores and also restaurants, permitting a site visitor to keep one eye on the jungle-scape and the other on the most recent fashions at Calvin Klein-- or the line for Shake Shack. The end result is actually an incredible display of artificiality as well as nature, along with illuminations that can easily switch a waterfall crimson, or even create it seem to be as if you are actually eating al fresco under a stellar sky.Beneath that skies, on Jewel's tree-lined top flooring, is actually Canopy Playground, where our team mosted likely to attempt theme-park design tourist attractions( typical tickets for adults begin at 5 bucks ): labyrinths, slides as well as the Manulife Sky Nets, one for throwing, the other-- the one I would soon pick to adhere to-- for walking.Late-Morning harmonizing act "Just don't look down, "my partner said.Reader, I performed. Much underneath my sneakered feet were actually the bests of individuals's heads as well as I immediately envisioned flopping the net in to the screen of acrylic boxes at the Muji outlet below. I grasped my spouse's arm while a girl that seemed approximately 70 hopped past our company, submit the sky, grinning as well as swing at a little bit of woman stone's throw behind.Eventually, I created it back to terra firma where I discovered that land-based activities, like the Mirror Puzzle( for which I would certainly been offered a foam noodle to touch the area in face of me as a means to steer clear of running across a mirror)were actually even more my rate. Indeed, while Circle du Soleil-style entertainment is actually novel as well as exciting( cough, for some ), Changi is at its ideal when it invokes something

of the feeling of its home, of Singapore, the buffed "area in a landscape."Eco-friendly, blossoming spaces-- exotic, water lily and orchid landscapes; garden ponds to life along with koi; Gem's in the house woodland-- invite along with blooming vegetations, palms as well as water streaming over rocks right into pools as well as fish ponds. The soothing noise of water is just one of Changi's most fascinating functions. Also in Jewel, while sweeping coming from shop to store, at some time you hear of a silent roar. Switch in its path and also where you assume to see however another string of spectacular shops, you locate as an alternative that the wall has actually fallen away and also in its place is an opening to one more world: that huge falls spraying via a landscape, a great moisture splashing up coming from the lowland below.We adhered to the waterfall underground, using a moving stairway to the basement levels of Gem, where the water gun barrels through an enormous clear column enclosed partially by desks for close-by dining establishments. A pair on a bench were conversing, encountering the falls, as if in a park. Others were actually grabbing photographes of youngsters as they pushed their hands to the column between attacks. Lunch restaurant-hopping Along with acclaimed bistros and also specializeds coming from Singapore as well as throughout Asia(Singaporean dishes from Violet Oon Singapore; hotpot coming from Elegance in The Pot), our company handled lunch at Jewel like a boat trip ship hodgepodge. A buddy that lives in Singapore joined us for dark sum(prawn dumplings, shredded poultry spring season rolls, bar-b-que pork buns )at Tim Ho Wan, an outpost of the Hong Kong-based Michelin-star victor(nevertheless, it's remarkably economical). Later, it was actually on to Eastern Soba Noodles Tsuta, a branch of the initial ramen bistro to receive a Michelin star, where our company had the Shoyu soba; adhered to by raw dairy, soft-serve frozen yogurt from Japan's Icenoie Hokkaido; and also"agricultural gelato" in tastes like white chrysanthemum (visualize the taste of floral and cacao nibs )from Birds of Paradise.All mid-day our company searched local snack food and also sweet slows as if our team went to a flea market. At Rich & Good Covered Outlet, recognized for its own Swiss rolls, an indication said that "due to overwhelming requirement and also minimal supply, "each adult was enabled just one product. Of the tiny containers, the exclusive staying taste was actually durian, a fruit with a scent so pungent, that it is actually certainly not allowed on public transport in Singapore. Over at Irvins Salted Egg, producer of salty egg-flavored handles, practically whatever was marketed out, though I handled to get a bag of salty egg white potato chips(8 dollars )that I later on found out regrettably lived up to the label's"alarmingly habit forming"tagline. The evening series Evening happened & quickly, and along with a smoke of moisture coming from above, the first of the cost-free nightly light and also noise shows at the Rainfall Whirlwind began. Our company participated in ball games of visitors unclothing shops and also pitching over patios, smartphones at the ready, to enjoy the waterfall fit a kaleidoscope of different colors as well as projections prepared to rousing songs. Perhaps more excellent than the series is the reality that an enormous falls may be regulated as if it were a kitchen space device. Something regarding this may argue at the spine of the mind as the hours go through. Your creature intuitions-- at first benumbed by Jewel's unbelievable garden-- puncture up, and also you begin to really feel agitated, for you recognize that while there are actually vegetations and also trees, there is actually nevertheless a roof in between you as well as the sky. Supper, alcoholic beverages as well as late-night purchasing After the show, under coffee shop string illuminations on Jewel's attic, our team had dinner at Tiger Road Laboratory. I appreciated flatbread with shrimp, guacamole and also mango condiment, as well as an one-half pint of Singapore's Tiger Beer, while intoxicated by the sweet aroma of the boneless coffee pork ribs(deep-fried and also coated along with caramelized coffee dressing) by Keng Eng Kee Sea Food. Locals, as well, relate to the airport to consume, interact and also, as another buddy living in Singapore pointed out, research, due to cost-free air conditioning and Wi-Fi. We complied with supper along with a passeggiata past the radiance of gift outlets like Naiise Iconic( the Singapore-based store where you can easily buy books regarding the urban area, residence decor, and showpieces like

baggage tags)and Supermama( another Singapore-based style outlet with designs such as ceramic plates ); Oriental sellers, featuring Tokyu Hands, where I snapped up designed-in-Japan stationery; and also global behemoths like Apple, which gives a"photo-walk "in Gem for those that desire photo-taking as well as editing and enhancing suggestions for recording the bordering architecture, landscapes and also Storm Whirlwind. An encore just before night time As evening lived in, our team discovered ourselves under wire-mesh clouds sparkling with Swarovski crystals for the night's 2nd audio as well as play of light. As well beat to cap it off along with a movie, our company strolled back to the hotel and also rested comfortably in the darkness of the Changi Control Tower.I scarcely heard the airplanes moving by expenses. Early morning image in the gardens It was the splendour and also hyperreality of Gem I was actually very most appearing ahead to when I initially got there for our Changi vacation. After much wandering around the waterfall, in and out of stores as well as labyrinths, over as well as under searches, below the sprawling dome, I had started to feel as I were actually being accepted. In the mood for a little much less razzle-dazzle, I located it in the gardens spread throughout the terminals. These are Changi's informal breathing room, property to big wheel and small cultures of tranquillity.In the Sunflower Yard, a younger male with a knapsack walked one of the stalks. In the Orchid Garden, an old male was resting close to a pool full of koi. On a little link over the water, a couple welcomed. Each landscape possesses a sign or more along with realities concerning nature or Singapore's culture. One in the Sunflower Yard tells of how sunflowers might be made use of, featuring in the manufacturing of textile and newspaper,

coating and cosmetics. In the Butterfly Backyard, I read through about transformation, coming from egg to imago. This leading-edge airport, home to robots as well as a Rain Whirlwind, is actually also house to the easiest of delights: direct sunlight, blossoms (a lot of them genuine), circulating water, as well as everywhere, a plant to rest under and imagine. In the ultimate hours before my flight, walking near Sago palms in the Cactus Backyard, I passed a younger lady getting out of her gym shoes to rest on a bench along with a manual in the sun. Over a pool in Terminal

3, a man secured his smartphone to ensure a kid on the other finale might see an orange fish dive. In Terminal 2, a lady revealed her mama a woodblock print she created at a social craft station. Below, hanging around believes that living.Stay extremely long, though, and also you take the chance of sensory overload, or worse, taking the place for granted. And that would certainly be a shame, for the flight terminal is actually a present to tourists. Changi even supplies cost-free scenic tours of the urban area to website visitors keeping for lower than 24 hr if there go to minimum five-and-a-half hours just before their connecting trip. But also for those that do not possess opportunity to leave behind the airport terminal as well as view Singapore suitable, Changi's backyards and also spirited attractions are the upcoming ideal thing. Everything is actually needed is a willingness to embrace the fantasy.Stephanie Rosenbloom, the author of"Alone Opportunity: Four Seasons, Four Cities, and the Satisfaction of Seclusion"(Viking), has been actually creating trip, organisation as well as designs features for The Times for nearly 20 years. Twitter: @Stephronyt. Instagram: @StephanieRosenbloom

This content was originally published here.

[brajeshupadhyay]

Wednesday marks the one-year anniversary of the beginning of the end for investment manager Neil Woodford, for many years the sweetheart of tens of thousands of investors.  Yes, June 3, 2019 was the day Woodford’s flagship fund, Woodford Equity Income, was forced to suspend dealings because it did not have enough cash to meet a wave of redemptions, with institutional investor Kent County Council leading the charge for the exit.  He had been kidding investors. Woodford Equity Income was no more an equity income fund – paying investors a steady stream of dividends while keep their capital safe – than a spitting cobra is a family pet. It was full of illiquid, and toxic, assets.  Super hero: There is a batch of fund managers, some young, working under the radar of most investors, who experts say are making a name for themselves By now most of you will know what followed. Woodford Equity Income was dismembered, two other Woodford funds (Income Focus and Patient Capital) were given to other managers to run and Woodford Investment Management was wound up.  As for Neil Woodford, he was last reported speaking to Chinese investors about making a comeback. I imagine coronavirus and rising geopolitical tensions have kyboshed that idea, leaving him plenty of time to polish his CBE and count his fortune in his Cotswolds hideaway, in between a little bit of horse riding (his biggest passion, apart from his wife).  Yet with Woodford now a busted flush and his protege at his former employer Invesco, Mark Barnett, recently sacked for a period of woeful performance on the high profile Invesco Income and High Income funds, it begs the question as to whether active management has had its day.  By active, I mean funds run by investment managers or teams, rather than by computers programmed to track a particular stock market index (known as passive investment).  The answer is a resounding ‘no’. Some high profile and long-established ‘active’ managers such as Terry Smith (Fundsmith Equity), Nick Train (Lindsell Train Global Equity) and James Anderson (Scottish Mortgage) continue to crank out consistently impressive returns for investors.  There is also a batch of fund managers, some young, working under the radar of most investors, who experts say are making a name for themselves.  Indeed, some could be the investment stars of the future, though it must be remembered that, like markets, the fortunes of fund managers can fall as fast as they rise.  Only a few – the Smiths, Trains and Andersons of this world – have remained at the top of their profession through thick and thin.  Here are 14 fund managers who experts predict have what it takes to deliver impressive returns.  Rising: Stephen Yiu created a £350m fund in under four years STEPHEN YIU Blue Whale Growth  Although Blue Whale Capital is only three and a half years old and has just one investment fund it is beginning to be recognised by some experts for its global approach.  The fund is managed by 42-yearold Stephen Yiu from offices in London’s Mayfair. The fund already has assets of £350million and its performance is impressive.  Since launch, it has generated an overall return of 58 per cent, while the average global investment fund has returned 19 per cent since September 2017. This year, despite the turmoil, the fund has achieved a respectable return of 10.7 per cent.  Yiu founded Blue Whale Capital after a career in fund management at Hargreaves Lansdown – then New Star, Artemis and Nevsky Capital. He is backed by his former employer Peter Hargreaves, who is chairman of the business and a big personal investor in the fund.  Born in Hong Kong and educated in Singapore and Britain, Yiu calls himself a ‘global citizen’. He reflects this in his fund while drawing on analysis from the four other members of Blue Whale’s investment team (all younger than him).  Currently, the fund is 70 per cent invested in the US and the portfolio is spread across 25 stocks. Top holdings include Adobe, Amazon, Mastercard and Microsoft, stakes held since the fund’s launch.  Like Smith at Fundsmith Equity, Yiu likes to hold big companies – preferably long-term – that generate lots of cash and have pricing power in the markets in which they operate. Portfolio changes are rare, the most recent disposals being stakes in luxury goods brand LVMH and InterContinental Hotels.  Some 100 companies are on Blue Whale’s watchlist, with a theme being ‘digital transformation’. Yiu says he steers clear of banks, oil and gas companies, biotech stocks (‘too speculative’) and retailers. He adds: ‘We’re a young investment team, playing to our strengths and understanding how digitalisation is transforming the world we live in.’  Yiu is modest enough to say that the company’s investment process is ‘improving all the time’.  Yet he is adamant he wants to cement a reputation as a ‘global specialist’ investing in ‘mega-capitalised companies’. He is not interested in smaller firms or portfolios with a specific geographic bent.  He says: ‘I want the fund to be highly liquid at all times so investors can come in and get out when they want.’ HUGH YARROW and BEN PETERS Evenlode  Unlike most fund managers, who are London-based, Hugh Yarrow and Ben Peters run their investment business from a barn conversion in Chipping Norton. The Oxfordshire air seems to work better for them than it did for Woodford and Invesco’s Barnett, who operated from Oxford and Henley-on-Thames respectively. Yarrow, a former fund manager with Rathbone Brothers, and Peters (a physicist by training) jointly manage its two main funds – the £3.5billion Evenlode Income and the £625million Evenlode Global Income – though Yarrow is lead manager on Income, and Peters the boss of Global Income.  While a rash of dividend cuts across UK and global-listed companies is not a great backdrop for funds aiming to provide investors with a steady income, Evenlode’s emphasis on investing in quality companies should see it through.  Jason Hollands, a director of wealth manager Tilney, says: ‘Yarrow and Peters are clear in how they manage money. Like Train and Smith, they buy great companies that generate lots of cash and then hold them for the long term. They buy large or medium-sized listed businesses, not market minnows.’  Both funds have 40 holdings, pay investors a quarterly income, and have a number of common holdings – the likes of Unilever and Reckitt Benckiser, which recently raised dividend payments. Global Income, however, has some 40 per cent of its assets in US-listed companies. Over the past year, Global Income has generated a total return of 5.3per cent while Income has reported a small loss of 1.9 per cent.  Over the same period, the FTSE All-Share index has fallen 10.4 per cent. Over five years, Income has generated a return of 50.6 per cent – nearly six times that of the FTSE All-Share index. (Global Income was only launched in September 2017.) JAMES HARRIES Trojan Global Income  Troy Asset Management was set up in 2000 to invest conservatively. Preserving your capital, it believes, is as important as making money.  Though the firm’s driving force is founder and chief investment officer Sebastian Lyon – manager of £4.7billion Trojan fund – fund manager James Harries is considered by some as a rising star.  He joined Troy in 2016 from investment house rival Newton and was the catalyst for the launch of Trojan Global Income.  Harries says: ‘The key to looking after investors’ money is to remain conservative, focus on absolute rather than relative return, and run a portfolio that is robust.’  The performance of the £203million fund looks good, given the market backdrop. Over the past three months and six months, the fund has returned 5.2 per cent and 0.8 per cent respectively. Over the past three years, it has generated a total return of just under 22 per cent. Ryan Hughes of wealth manager AJ Bell says the fund has ‘plenty of capacity to grow’ and ‘has impressively outperformed Lindsell Train Global Equity over the past couple of years’.  He adds: ‘Harries has a clear idea of the companies he likes – quality businesses with pricing power, good cashflow and the ability to pay dividends.’  DAN WHITESTONE BlackRock Throgmorton  Unlike many other managers running retail funds (funds for individual, rather than institutional, investors) Blackrock’s Dan Whitestone is happy to profit from shorting shares – banking on them falling in price – as well as holding them in the hope of price rises.  It’s an approach that has caught the eye of Peter Sleep of wealth manager Seven Investment. He was impressed by the way Whitestone made money last year from shorting shares in Woodford Patient Capital and other ailing stocks that Woodford held – the likes of construction company Keir and litigation financer Burford Capital.  Whitestone’s specialism is smaller firms and he has managed the investment trust since March 2015 – jointly to begin with, but as lead manager since early 2018.  Annabel Brodie Smith, director of the Association of Investment Companies, says Whitestone is ‘passionate’ about smaller firms. The trust’s short-term performance is nothing to write home about – three-month losses of 5.4 per cent – but over the past five years (when Whitestone has had a constant hand on the tiller), it has generated returns of nearly 90 per cent. Bucking the trend: Alex Wright invests in out-of-favour firms …and this one’s for the brave ALEX WRIGHT Fidelity Special Situations and Fidelity Special Values  FIDELITY’S Alex Wright is a contrarian investor who targets out-offavour companies he believes will come good – maybe as a result of a management overhaul, a takeover or a change in market sentiment. It’s an approach – referred to as value investing as it involves buying them when they appear to offer good value – that has been out of favour and is wildly different to the investment mantras pursued by the likes of Terry Smith and Nick Train, who focus on big established companies generating cash in markets they have a dominant position in.  Yet Tilney’s Jason Hollands is adamant that Wright is a manager to watch. He says: ‘Like nearly all value managers, including the legendary Warren Buffett, Wright’s funds have under-performed recently, but if the investment style tables turn, the two funds he manages should be in a good position to benefit.’  The performance numbers do not look good. Over the past year, the £2billion Fidelity Special Situations fund and £501million Special Values investment trust have recorded eye-watering losses of 20 per cent and 27 per cent. But Hollands says Wright has been successful in the past and sees no reason why he cannot come good again. Two funds for the brave investor. OTHER MENTIONS  Other managers (together with details of funds they manage and their relevant identification codes) that experts believe have something of a magic touch include: Laura Foll: co-manager of trusts Law Debenture (3142921), Lowland (0536806) and Henderson Opportunities (0853657). Alastair Laing: co-manager of trust Capital Gearing (0173861). Praveen Kumar: Baillie Gifford Shin Nippon (BFXYH24). Abby Glennie: Aberdeen Smaller Companies Income (0806372). Tom Slater: co-manager, Scottish Mortgage (BLDYK61), Simon Brazier: Ninety One UK Alpha (3107522). Mark Heslop and Mark Nichols, Jupiter European Growth (7510632).  Some links in this article may be affiliate links. If you click on them we may earn a small commission. That helps us fund This Is Money, and keep it free to use. We do not write articles to promote products. We do not allow any commercial relationship to affect our editorial independence. The post After Neil Woodford, are fund managers still worth backing? appeared first on Sansaar Times.

http://sansaartimes.blogspot.com/2020/05/after-neil-woodford-are-fund-managers.html

[chocolate-brownies]

Leslie and Josh came to therapy to talk about their son’s problems in school. But it soon became apparent that they had a different problem altogether—one common to working parents.

Their daily routine included a dizzying array of activities and responsibilities that kept them constantly stressed. Getting their kids out the door to school was an ordeal, involving much haranguing and eating on the run. After working long hours, they arrived home to a laundry list of other duties. Constant interruptions from electronic devices made them feel on call to their workplaces and disengaged from each other. Though unhappy, they didn’t know what to do or how to make a change.

As an experienced child and family psychologist (Anthony) and a management psychologist who works with business leaders (Paul), we were struck by how common these concerns are. We hear the same thing over and over from the people who come to see us: They feel overwhelmed by life. They struggle to make choices and decisions. They often feel stuck, adrift, or thwarted.

For many of us, the pace of life has accelerated to a level where we can’t fully adapt. We exist in a buzz of worry that we’re not doing what we’re meant to do, and the anxiety we feel, in turn, makes it difficult to get things done, creating a spiral of inaction. What we need is more agency: the ability to cut through all of what pulls at us, find emotional and physical balance, think more clearly, and advocate for ourselves so we can take a course of action that makes sense. With agency, we can feel more in command of our lives.

In our new book, The Power of Agency, we outline seven steps to creating more personal agency, so that you can put yourself on a more powerful path—whether at work, in your relationships, or in life in general. Here is what we recommend.

1. Control stimuli

Agency begins with what you let into your mind—meaning what comes in from your environment. If you are lacking agency, it’s likely your attention is being hijacked and you need to figure out how to restore it.

For example, research has shown that having a phone present while you work distracts you and interferes with your capacity to think. On the other hand, taking a walk (especially outdoors) is a good way to restore depleted attention in your brain so you can concentrate better later.

To help you increase your agency, practice going to quiet and screen-free spaces to escape overstimulation. That may mean spending time in nature, turning off your phone notifications while at work, or avoiding eating in loud cafeterias.

2. Associate selectively

It’s impossible not to be affected by those around us—it’s easy to “catch” their emotions, for example, and our brains tend to synch up when we associate with other people. That means you should set boundaries with difficult people, disentangle yourself from negative online interactions, and be more conscious of how you might be vulnerable to “groupthink”—pressures to behave or think in ways that are contrary to your values.

Surround yourself with friends, family, and communities who encourage you to reach your full potential, nurture your talents, affirm your values.

Instead, surround yourself with friends, family, and communities who encourage you to reach your full potential, nurture your talents, affirm your values and difficult decisions, and give you a reality check when you’ve behaved badly or are stuck in negative thinking. You can also get involved with your community through volunteering or just chatting with local merchants or neighbors. These positive social interactions will improve your state of mind and physical health, two critical building blocks of agency.

3. Move

Physical movement, along with proper rest and nutrition, puts your body and mind into balance, giving you greater motivation, strength, and stamina. Research has shown that sitting a lot is dangerous for your health, and that even short breaks from concentrated periods of inactivity—like getting up to stretch or walking around the block—are good for you. Studies also suggest that exercise can lead to greater self-control—the ability to defer gratification, which is key to agency.

If you’re in deep at work, set a timer to go off every hour and remind yourself to take a moment to assess your mood. If you’re feeling stuck or overwhelmed, get up and move. And, if you’re having any issues at work, discussing them in a walking meeting (instead of a sitting meeting) may help mitigate conflicts.

4. Position yourself as a learner

People with high levels of agency are continually learning more and expanding their capacity to learn by adopting a more open, collaborative approach to everything in life. This requires nurturing your curiosity and allowing yourself to explore new ideas, skills, and people.

You can take an interesting class, explore your world kinetically (through your hands or body), or spend time playing or using your imagination. Or you can learn from other people by staying curious and asking them open-ended questions, listening to gain understanding, and avoiding any quick judgments.

This isn’t always easy. Practicing a growth mindset—where you recognize that you are a work in progress, capable of learning and changing—can help combat the fear of failure or judgment that often come with learning new things. If you have trouble letting go of perfectionism, it might help to practice mindfulness meditation, which has been shown to reduce self-judgment, or use cognitive-behavioral therapy techniques that help put mistakes in perspective.

5. Manage your emotions and beliefs

Too often, we operate from unconscious beliefs—I’m too old to learn a new job skill or No one will ever want to be in a relationship with me—without being aware of how they thwart us from even trying certain things. When we are driven by unconscious emotions like fear, sadness, or worry, it can lower our energy and make us feel doomed or overwhelmed, which also hurts our agency.

Increasing your awareness of how your emotions and beliefs drive your thinking, influence your behavior, and affect your judgment will help you navigate life with greater confidence. While uncovering these inner thoughts and emotions may take effort, being more self-reflective helps you keep grounded by slowing down your thinking process.

For example, try to catch yourself the next time you feel angry with yourself. Don’t automatically accept that harmful emotion or, worse, dwell on it. Instead, pause and question it. Why am I feeling this way? Am I pressuring myself too much? Maybe my beliefs and expectations need some adjusting. Start by slowing your thinking down. Take slow deep breaths. Take yourself to a quiet place. Consciously let go of the tension building up in your muscles. These simple techniques will relax you and keep you more self-aware. This enhances your agency by putting you more in charge of what you feel and think.

Don’t automatically accept that harmful emotion or, worse, dwell on it. Instead, pause and question it. 

By learning how to recognize our inner emotions and thoughts, name them, and let them pass through us, we can practice more self-control, which also helps build greater agency.

6. Check your intuition

Think of intuition as deep inner knowledge that is comprised of millions of data points that our brains have observed over the course of our lives. When used wisely, it can be a tremendous boost to our creativity and help us make important decisions, thereby increasing our level of agency.

Many of us are familiar with visceral, gut feelings about people or things—such as when you meet a new boss and sense right away that he’s bad news. When you’re in situations involving unclear social demands with few clues to navigate them, this type of intuition can be useful to you. However, you must be careful not to confuse intuition with bias and prejudice. In situations where emotions are running high—like during a job interview or when swiping on Tinder, for example—it’s best to slow down, take a breath, check in with others, and get more information rather than relying exclusively on quick, automatic impressions.

Strategic intuition, a second type of intuition, is more intentional. For example, you decide to stop thinking about a particularly vexing problem at work and—while on a long run, in the shower, or after meditating—a solution avails itself.

Finally, “expert” intuition happens after long periods, sometimes years, of practice at a particular skill. Here, less conscious parts of your brain are able to take over, provided you stay calm. Think of a pilot handling an emergency landing who allows their mind and body to perform as needed, without consciously thinking through each and every step. 


You can get better at using intuition to inform your decision-making if you learn to quiet your mind, develop a greater awareness of what you’re thinking and feeling, and listen to your body.

7. Deliberate, then act


People with low agency experience common impediments when trying to make sound decisions. They may procrastinate, obsess over details, or worry excessively during the process; they may lack confidence and be risk-averse; or their thinking may be too fast and they act on impulse. When making an important decision, like where to move or how to advance your career, it’s helpful to stop and deliberate first. Put yourself in an environment conducive to reflection and exploration, and make sure you have time and your emotions are calm. Then, focus on the issue at hand enough to clarify your primary objective and what is at stake. Asking open-ended questions and gathering pertinent facts also helps.

It’s good to generate lots of options at first, making sure that any strong emotions or biases aren’t driving your thoughts. Then, you can draft a plan for yourself based on those options, putting your thoughts and decisions into writing. The plan should simplify your options and incorporate the most important facts. At this point, let your mind rest and allow any intuition to rise to the surface. Set your plan aside and come back a while later to reassess it, making changes as necessary.

Remember, taking action doesn’t require 100 percent certainty. Higher-agency people will start to act if they are 80 percent sure or more. So, don’t over-deliberate before acting. You can always reassess later if need be.

Having more agency means taking responsibility for your life. The next time you sense something happening around you—or within you—that doesn’t feel quite right, don’t ignore it and reflexively press on. Exercise the discipline to stop, pay attention, and work on finding a better path for yourself. By practicing more agency, you’ll have more influence over your life and greater impact on the lives of others.

This article originally appeared on Greater Good, the online magazine of UC Berkeley’s Greater Good Science Center, one of Mindful’s partners. View the original article.

The post Seven Ways to Develop Personal Agency appeared first on Mindful.

[caveartfair]

Do Women Dealers Represent More Women Artists? We Crunched the Numbers

What would the world look like if more women were in charge?

An Artsy analysis comparing the artist rosters of the 199 female-run and male-run galleries showing at the 16th edition of Art Basel in Miami Beach provides one clue. Dealers who are women are 28% more likely to show artists who are women.

The gender breakdown of artists listed on the websites of the 126 male-run galleries showing at Art Basel in Miami Beach is 75% male artists to 25% female artists, a ratio of three to one. Female-run galleries show 66% male artists and 34% female artists, a ratio of two to one. The overall share is 72% male and 28% female artists. (See below for a full description of the methodology.)

Dealers rarely, if ever, cite gender (or ethnicity, or nationality, or any other marker of identity) as a factor in deciding to represent an artist. That notion is almost universally rejected; it’s always and inevitably about “the strength of the work.” But the findings of this analysis lend some credence to the aphorism, sometimes attributed to female leadership expert Laura Liswood, that “There’s no such thing as a glass ceiling, just a thick layer of men.”

The larger the number of artists in a gallery’s stable, the less likely female artists are to be represented (and the less likely it is that the dealer herself is female). And at every size, women dealers represent more female artists than their male counterparts. The 14 male-run galleries with over 50 artists represent just 15% female artists, while the six female-run galleries of over 50 artists showed 25% women. At the smaller end, the 16 male-run galleries participating in Art Basel with 15 or fewer artists had 31% female artists on their roster; the seven female-run galleries of the same size had 39% female artists.

London dealer Pilar Corrias said those figures made sense, since mega-galleries of that size are dealing with artists at the very top end of the market, who tend to still be largely male.

“When you get to the $10 million, $20 million levels, that’s where the disparity comes…when that amount of money is at stake, politics go out the window,” she said.

Among all the galleries in the analysis, the share of their artists who are women ranged from zero to two-thirds. Of the five galleries who represented exclusively artists who are men, four (including two dealers whose rosters boast 49 and 86 artists, respectively) are run by men. These galleries tend to specialize in earlier art-historical periods when all opportunities for women, not just in art, were far more restricted.

As the late art historian and scholar Linda Nochlin described it in her famous 1971 essay “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?”: “[I]n actuality, as we all know, things as they are and as they have been, in the arts as in a hundred other areas, are stultifying, oppressive, and discouraging to all those, women among them, who did not have the good fortune to be born white, preferably middle class and, above all, male.”

But what’s the excuse for contemporary dealers, when, for example, women in the U.S. (still the largest art market in the world, per UBS and Art Basel’s The Art Market | 2017) are far more likely than men to graduate with arts degrees at the undergraduate and graduate level, according to data from the U.S. Education Department?

“A lot of women artists get lost along the way.”

Corrias, whose gallery turns 10 years old next year, said part of the problem was structural, in that the crucial stage for an artist’s career tends to coincide with the time when women have children.

“Artists tend to start becoming successful in their late twenties and thirties, and it’s also the time when women have children,” Corrias said. “It’s very hard if you’re a young artist who’s beginning to make a way for yourself to then suddenly get pregnant and have to deal with childcare. It’s all about money, really, and whether you can afford the childcare or not. So that’s why a lot of women artists get lost along the way.” She noted that female dealers also tend to open their galleries in their thirties and forties, once the most demanding years of childrearing are behind them.

(Interestingly, one study found that female artists don’t tend to experience the wage loss upon motherhood, relative to men, that is a major factor of the overall gender pay gap and has been called by sociologist Michelle Budig calls “the motherhood penalty.” That said, women working in the arts still earn less than men, according to research from the Strategic National Arts Alumni Project at Indiana University.)

“Being an artist is not something where you can just go on maternity leave…[artists who are women] can take a break, but nobody will make their work for them,” said Corrias, whose 25-strong roster is 56% female. “You can work for a company and go on maternity leave, and someone will cover for you.”

Corrias said as a dealer (and as a parent herself), she accepts and encourages her artists to become parents, with the understanding that it’s a temporary period in what hopefully should be a long and fruitful career path that she and her artists are building together.

“With the artists that I show who are women, I’m as encouraging as I possibly can be, and I understand they’ll be taking a break, and then they’ll be coming back,” she said. She recalled a (perhaps apocryphal) story she heard, about a major London dealer who told women he represented, “If you have children, I’m going to drop you.” It’s hard to imagine his male artists received the same warning, even though men become parents at roughly the same rate as women (science!).

Still, many artists who are women and parents told Artsy last year that motherhood, while a logistical challenge that any working parent must navigate, has not impacted their career.

Geographic disparity

Interestingly, North American dealers in the sample on the whole tended to have slightly better representation of female artists than their European counterparts, even though the U.S. (where all but three of the North American dealers in our sample are located) is the only advanced economy that does not offer paid family leave or even paid maternity leave to its citizens. European Union countries all offer at least 14 weeks of paid maternity leave, and many offer considerably more generous benefits, including subsidized child care, which one might expect would give female artists in Europe slightly more support as they transition into parenthood.

But the artist roster for female North American dealers is split 36% female to 64% male, while at their European counterparts, the balance tipped slightly more male, at 30% to 70%. Male North American dealers’ rosters are 73% male, while European male dealers are, again, a slightly higher 76% male.

Several dealers said that galleries’ more equal representation of women in the U.S. could also be due to the number of powerful female collectors, museum board members, and trustees in the country, citing Beth Rudin deWoody and Agnes Gund as two prominent examples.

A gallery is “an extension of the person who runs it and owns it”

In addition to the day-to-day realities that shape women’s and men’s careers differently, several female dealers with above-average representation of female artists said they thought the disparity between who women and men represent could be attributed to a personal or intangible factor.

Nicole Russo, who founded Chapter NY on the Lower East Side three and a half years ago, never consciously sought to build a program that was predominantly women (six out of her nine artists are women), but to the extent that “any gallery is an extension of the person who runs it and owns it,” the outcome wasn’t altogether surprising.

“Hey, I’m a feminist. I’m going to subconsciously or consciously spend time looking at women artists…and it organically came about that the roster is more women artists,” Russo said. “Obviously, I think all my artists are amazing, and they’re all people I want to help and be a part of their careers in any way that I can.”

Vienna dealer Rosemarie Schwarzwälder of Galerie nächst St. Stephan Rosemarie Schwarzwälder nodded to the flipside of that equation. “Not to fall into clichés, because it’s what you always hear, but I think the alliance between men is always very strong,” she said. “You yourself as a journalist may realize that maybe with your women colleagues it’s easier. This is a psychological or sociological question.”

Schwarzwälder said her gallery through the 1980s did not represent a very high share of female artists (today it is 43% female), although she always showed women, even if they were represented by another gallery. In subsequent decades she began adding more women, which she stressed was not out of a conscious effort to seek out more women, but often through finding women artists whose work had previously been overlooked. She cited the discovery about five years ago, through the collector JoAnn Gonzalez Hickey, of the artist and poet Alice Attie, now in her late sixties. Of course, she said, that always raises the question: “Why was this overlooked?”

A “trend of looking back”

At New York’s Salon 94, partner and director Alissa Friedman said when she joined nearly 11 years ago, her early conversations with founder Jeanne Greenberg Rohatyn were less about an artist’s gender and more about whether that person was underappreciated.

“I don’t remember having a conversation about whether someone was a man or a woman, it was more about whether someone was interesting, or who was underrepresented,” Friedman said.

Those underrepresented artists were, quite often, women, thanks to the cumulative impact of society-wide disadvantage faced by pretty much everyone who wasn’t a straight white man. Using that criteria—“artists who had been working for 20 years, had had a career, but for whatever reason were underrecognized, typically commercially, or in some cases critically or institutionally,” as Friedman described it—led her and Rohatyn to artists such as Marilyn Minter and Laurie Simmons. The gallery also recently added iconic feminist artist Judy Chicago to its roster.

“I’d say it’s evolved organically, and we’ve also developed more consciousness about it,” Friedman said. Now, “We embrace it, and we talk about it. We’re a strong gallery for women artists.”

Friedman noted their approach has been more widely adopted, as dealers around the world seek to unearth overlooked or underappreciated artists among the many who were excluded from mainstream success in their time.

“There’s also a trend of looking back, and trying to discover an artist who has been overlooked until now or who had their moment in the late 1970s,” Friedman said. “There is this attempt to broaden our understandings of artmaking, and how it has been marketed…so in that way, women have gotten maybe more attention” in the past few years.

“Things will change”

But what does that mean for younger artists, who, of course, aren’t eligible for “rediscovery”?

Although Salon 94 doesn’t work with emerging artists, Friedman said from her observation, she believes it is probably more difficult for young women to make their names as artists, due to the ongoing myth of the wunderkind artist, who throughout history (including recent history) has typically been male.

“I think that the art world still kind of celebrates and mythologizes this idea of the ‘bad boy artist,’” she said, noting that with a few exceptions, “especially when you’re talking about the hot artist that everyone’s speculating on, they tend to be male.”  But, she added, “as the baton is handed to the next generation, there are increasingly more women who are getting attention and whose prices reflect that,” citing the growing presence of women at the helm of major museums as another factor that should help female artists succeed.

There’s plenty of reason to think things will improve. The younger the gallery, the more likely it was to have female leadership, according to Artsy’s analysis. In the sample of galleries showing at Art Basel in Miami Beach, only galleries 10 years and younger were equally represented between female and male leadership, at 17 apiece. By contrast, among galleries 10 to 20 years old and older than 20 years, there were roughly twice as many run by men as by women.

The younger the gallery, the more balanced its gender ratio, the analysis showed. The younger male-run galleries had 32% female artists, compared with just 23% at galleries more than 20 years old. The younger female-run galleries did even better, with 41% female artists; at the older female-run galleries, the share of female artists was 28%.

Corrias, who is in her forties, said the art world has changed dramatically from the one she studied as a teenager or college student.

“The art market was pretty much dominated by white male artists until about 20 years ago,” she said, noting that art world’s dominant “center” has been fragmented into “many centers” around the world.

In the meantime, “it’s just a question of keeping going, it’s not a fait accompli,” she said. “But if you believe in the work and support it and keep selling it, then things will change.”

from Artsy News

[dfroza]

it was nice to see this Saturday evening

after sharing this morning about the rebirth of the heavens and the earth, that it was written of in Today’s paired chapters from the Scriptures, specifically in the work of Isaiah. an ancient book at some point divided into the numbers of chapter and verse for easy reference points, with the book containing 66 chapters. similar to the way the whole body of the Holy Bible contains 66 books in the Old and New Testaments.

and so it was neat for me to see the promised rebirth of the heavens and the earth in this chapter of Isaiah, which of course relates to that as well in the closing book of John’s revelation at the end of the New Testament. all of which reveals the New Covenant of grace.

and with Today being day [8] of the month of july, it is also day 18 of Summer and day 189 of the year, now in ‘17. and so in addition to my paired chapters of Isaiah 65 and 1st Peter 5, i read Psalms 8, 18 and 39, as well as Proverbs 8, all in The Message translation by Eugene Peterson. and there are many translations that are accurately translated from the original Hebrew and Greek, although the essence of it all is the Love of God revealed. yes, the basic meaning, its definition is that of friendship with God and with others. sons and daughters. children.

select pieces of Script from my reading Today:

[New Heavens and a New Earth]

“Pay close attention now: I’m creating new heavens and a new earth. All the earlier troubles, chaos, and pain are things of the past, to be forgotten. Look ahead with joy. Anticipate what I’m creating: I’ll create Jerusalem as sheer joy, create my people as pure delight. I’ll take joy in Jerusalem, take delight in my people: No more sounds of weeping in the city, no cries of anguish; No more babies dying in the cradle, or old people who don’t enjoy a full lifetime; One-hundredth birthdays will be considered normal— anything less will seem like a cheat. They’ll build houses and move in. They’ll plant fields and eat what they grow. No more building a house that some outsider takes over, No more planting fields that some enemy confiscates, For my people will be as long-lived as trees, my chosen ones will have satisfaction in their work. They won’t work and have nothing come of it, they won’t have children snatched out from under them. For they themselves are plantings blessed by God, with their children and grandchildren likewise God-blessed. Before they call out, I’ll answer. Before they’ve finished speaking, I’ll have heard. Wolf and lamb will graze the same meadow, lion and ox eat straw from the same trough, but snakes—they’ll get a diet of dirt! Neither animal nor human will hurt or kill anywhere on my Holy Mountain,” says God.

The Book of Isaiah, Chapter 65:17-25 (The Message)

[He’ll Promote You at the Right Time]

I have a special concern for you church leaders. I know what it’s like to be a leader, in on Christ’s sufferings as well as the coming glory. Here’s my concern: that you care for God’s flock with all the diligence of a shepherd. Not because you have to, but because you want to please God. Not calculating what you can get out of it, but acting spontaneously. Not bossily telling others what to do, but tenderly showing them the way.

When God, who is the best shepherd of all, comes out in the open with his rule, he’ll see that you’ve done it right and commend you lavishly. And you who are younger must follow your leaders. But all of you, leaders and followers alike, are to be down to earth with each other, for—

God has had it with the proud, But takes delight in just plain people.

So be content with who you are, and don’t put on airs. God’s strong hand is on you; he’ll promote you at the right time. Live carefree before God; he is most careful with you.

[He Gets the Last Word]

Keep a cool head. Stay alert. The Devil is poised to pounce, and would like nothing better than to catch you napping. Keep your guard up. You’re not the only ones plunged into these hard times. It’s the same with Christians all over the world. So keep a firm grip on the faith. The suffering won’t last forever. It won’t be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ—eternal and glorious plans they are!—will have you put together and on your feet for good. He gets the last word; yes, he does.

I’m sending this brief letter to you by Silas, a most dependable brother. I have the highest regard for him.

I’ve written as urgently and accurately as I know how. This is God’s generous truth; embrace it with both arms!

The church in exile here with me—but not for a moment forgotten by God—wants to be remembered to you. Mark, who is like a son to me, says hello. Give holy embraces all around! Peace to you—to all who walk in Christ’s ways.

The Book of 1st Peter, Chapter 5 (The Message)

[Psalm 8]

A David Psalm

God, brilliant Lord, yours is a household name.

Nursing infants gurgle choruses about you; toddlers shout the songs That drown out enemy talk, and silence atheist babble.

I look up at your macro-skies, dark and enormous, your handmade sky-jewelry, Moon and stars mounted in their settings. Then I look at my micro-self and wonder, Why do you bother with us? Why take a second look our way?

Yet we’ve so narrowly missed being gods, bright with Eden’s dawn light. You put us in charge of your handcrafted world, repeated to us your Genesis-charge, Made us lords of sheep and cattle, even animals out in the wild, Birds flying and fish swimming, whales singing in the ocean deeps.

God, brilliant Lord, your name echoes around the world.

The Book of Psalms, Song 8 (The Message)

A portion of Proverbs 8:

“God sovereignly made me—the first, the basic— before he did anything else. I was brought into being a long time ago, well before Earth got its start. I arrived on the scene before Ocean, yes, even before Springs and Rivers and Lakes. Before Mountains were sculpted and Hills took shape, I was already there, newborn; Long before God stretched out Earth’s Horizons, and tended to the minute details of Soil and Weather, And set Sky firmly in place, I was there. When he mapped and gave borders to wild Ocean, built the vast vault of Heaven, and installed the fountains that fed Ocean, When he drew a boundary for Sea, posted a sign that said no trespassing, And then staked out Earth’s Foundations, I was right there with him, making sure everything fit. Day after day I was there, with my joyful applause, always enjoying his company, Delighted with the world of things and creatures, happily celebrating the human family.”

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 8:22-31 (The Message)

and then to wrap up Today’s reading with chapter 21 from the book of Revelation which again speaks of the coming rebirth of the heavens and the earth. just as the purity and innocence that existed in Genesis, in the beginning… only made new. a most beautiful and treasured promise, to be sure:

[Everything New]

I saw Heaven and earth new-created. Gone the first Heaven, gone the first earth, gone the sea.

I saw Holy Jerusalem, new-created, descending resplendent out of Heaven, as ready for God as a bride for her husband.

I heard a voice thunder from the Throne: “Look! Look! God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women! They’re his people, he’s their God. He’ll wipe every tear from their eyes. Death is gone for good—tears gone, crying gone, pain gone—all the first order of things gone.” The Enthroned continued, “Look! I’m making everything new. Write it all down—each word dependable and accurate.”

Then he said, “It’s happened. I’m A to Z. I’m the Beginning, I’m the Conclusion. From Water-of-Life Well I give freely to the thirsty. Conquerors inherit all this. I’ll be God to them, they’ll be sons and daughters to me. But for the rest—the feckless and faithless, degenerates and murderers, sex peddlers and sorcerers, idolaters and all liars—for them it’s Lake Fire and Brimstone. Second death!”

[City of Light]

One of the Seven Angels who had carried the bowls filled with the seven final disasters spoke to me: “Come here. I’ll show you the Bride, the Wife of the Lamb.” He took me away in the Spirit to an enormous, high mountain and showed me Holy Jerusalem descending out of Heaven from God, resplendent in the bright glory of God.

The City shimmered like a precious gem, light-filled, pulsing light. She had a wall majestic and high with twelve gates. At each gate stood an Angel, and on the gates were inscribed the names of the Twelve Tribes of the sons of Israel: three gates on the east, three gates on the north, three gates on the south, three gates on the west. The wall was set on twelve foundations, the names of the Twelve Apostles of the Lamb inscribed on them.

The Angel speaking with me had a gold measuring stick to measure the City, its gates, and its wall. The City was laid out in a perfect square. He measured the City with the measuring stick: twelve thousand stadia, its length, width, and height all equal. Using the standard measure, the Angel measured the thickness of its wall: 144 cubits. The wall was jasper, the color of Glory, and the City was pure gold, translucent as glass. The foundations of the City walls were garnished with every precious gem imaginable: the first foundation jasper, the second sapphire, the third agate, the fourth emerald, the fifth onyx, the sixth carnelian, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh jacinth, the twelfth amethyst. The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate a single pearl.

The main street of the City was pure gold, translucent as glass. But there was no sign of a Temple, for the Lord God—the Sovereign-Strong—and the Lamb are the Temple. The City doesn’t need sun or moon for light. God’s Glory is its light, the Lamb its lamp! The nations will walk in its light and earth’s kings bring in their splendor. Its gates will never be shut by day, and there won’t be any night. They’ll bring the glory and honor of the nations into the City. Nothing dirty or defiled will get into the City, and no one who defiles or deceives. Only those whose names are written in the Lamb’s Book of Life will get in.

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 21 (The Message)

[yahoo-roto-arcade-blog]

Time is right to deal for Danny Salazar in fantasy leagues

Mostly MLB Notes: Talking Danny Salazar and a look around the league

I’ve always been a huge Danny Salazar fan, but we are now dealing with a pitcher who’s not only one of the more injury-prone arms in baseball but also one who currently sports a 1.49 WHIP. Salazar’s average fastball velocity (95.0 mph) is as good as ever (and ranks top-10 among all starters in baseball), and his SwStr% (16.6) ranks first. To give perspective, Max Scherzer led all starters last season with a 15.3 SwStr%. Salazar has no doubt been unlucky with a .385 BABIP (his career mark is .308), and while that’s sure to regress, it’s worth pointing out Cleveland’s defense has the fourth-worst UZR (-8.1) right now. It’s probably just noise in a small sample, as the Indians were a very good defensive team last season. Put differently, Salazar’s hit rate is the second highest in MLB (Adam Wainwright has an insane .446 BABIP right now), and that’s somehow occurred while producing a bunch of pop outs (16.1 IFFB%) and a lot of weak contact (28.1 Hard%). Salazar remains a health risk, but only Chris Sale has a higher K% than his 32.9, so if you’re looking for a buy-low candidate with the upside of being a top-10 fantasy pitcher from here on out, he’s your target.

This “thumb trick” is next level.

This is a legit way to bypass traffic.

In case you missed it, here’s my MLB Stock Watch column.

Quick Hits: I’ll predict Aaron Judge finishes with 45 homers. His current 2.2 WAR is the second highest among hitters in all of baseball. The rookie record for homers is Mark McGwire with 49…I recently spent about 30 percent of my FAAB on Brad Brach in a high stakes league, as it sure seems like Zach Britton may be out a significant amount of time. Hitters are batting .138 against Brach this season, and he could easily be a top-10 type fantasy closer moving forward. He’s still available in a quarter of Yahoo leagues…The Cubs and Yankees combined for an MLB-record 48 strikeouts during their game Sunday…After walking 30 batters over 53.0 innings last season, there was some concern Craig Kimbrel was in the decline phase (myself included), but he’s arguably been the most dominant pitcher so far in 2017. He’s allowed seven baserunners in 14.0 innings, when he’s produced a silly 52.0 K% and 22.1 SwStr%.

TV Talk: I love “Better Call Saul,” which had the tough task of being a prequel. It’s my favorite show right now, and you all should be watching it…”American Crime” was terrific, and that’s not easy to say with shows on regular network TV these days…”The Leftovers” is so good. Episode two in which they used this intro and then called back the Mark Linn-Baker story was incredible. I loved “Perfect Strangers” as a kid…I binged “13 Reasons Why” and really liked it but have no idea why they are now making a second season. That won’t work…Good to hear David Milch is joining the team for season three of “True Detective,” as “Deadwood” is easily one of my favorite shows of all time…I’m really into “Fargo” too. Bizarre recent episode but this too is a must watch.

[Fantasy Football is open! Sign up now and start winning season early]

Headlines of the Week: Hungry Man Divorces Wife For Sharing Food On Snapchat…Flying Catfish Lands In Florida Man’s Swimming Pool...Meet The Baseball Fan Who’s Been Flushing His Buddy’s Ashes Down Ballpark Toilets…Woman Eats Life Savings To Spite Cheating Husband…Ukraine Bans Steven Seagal As Threat To National Security.

Quick Hits Part Deux: If Kimbrel hasn’t been the best pitcher this year, it’s because that’s been his teammate Chris Sale, who currently leads MLB in WAR (2.4). He recently became one of four pitchers in baseball history with multiple 6+ game streaks with 10+ Ks. He’s sporting a 1.92 ERA and a 0.79 WHIP while pitching in Fenway Park and the AL East. Can you imagine if Sale pitched in the NL West? Would he have a negative ERA?…The Nationals have scored 194 runs this season. The Royals (who have a DH) have scored 82…Marcell Ozuna is 26 years old and has a .975 OPS. He was clearly playing injured over the second half of last season. He’s a budding star and should be treated as such…Speaking of budding stars, Miguel Sano has bounced back from a disappointing 2016 campaign, as he’s hitting .300/.431/.640. The BA will come down, but the power is legit. He’s going to hit 40 homers this year.

Police Blotter: Chinese Groom Arrested Over Fake Wedding Guests…Oregon Cops Issue “Verbal Warning” To Armed Cat In A Tree…Man Kept Stolen Brain Beneath Porch, Used It To Get High, Police Say…Parents Charged With Trying To Sell Their Baby On Craigslist.

Song of the Week: Nirvana – Where Did You Sleep Last Night

Longread of the Week: Why I Gave My Kidney To A Stranger – And Why You Should Consider Doing It Too 

Quick Hits Part Tres: Over his first 64 at bats, Brett Gardner had zero RBI. He has 10 over his next 35 ABs…Justin Turner is batting .377 with just one home run this season. He’s done so without hitting a single pop out while producing one of the lowest GB% (31.5) in all of baseball. An odd start to Turner’s year for sure…Billy Hamilton is on pace to steal 99 bases with a .307 OBP…Dee Gordon had four steals over his first 98 at bats. He has five over his next 25 ABs...Buster Posey is batting .356 (with a .434 OBP), yet he’s on pace to finish with 10 homers and 25 RBI…Speaking of catchers, a usually thin position has been as weak as ever, with Gary Sanchez getting injured and Kyle Schwarber batting .198. There’s just one catcher who ranks inside the top-230 fantasy players so far, and that’s Brian McCann (No. 136). Ugly stuff. Alex Avila has 50 at bats this year, and he ranks 130 spots ahead of Posey…What a dismantling by Canelo Alvarez over Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. (12 rounds to none on all judges’ cards), and as boring as that fight was (and not worth the PPV), it does set up the most anticipated match in a long time with him finally facing GGG in September. I can’t wait…LeBron James now has 11 sweeps in the postseason. No other player in history has more than nine (and round one used to be five games).

Follow Dalton Del Don on Twitter.

[brajeshupadhyay]

After Neil Woodford, are fund managers still worth backing?

Wednesday marks the one-year anniversary of the beginning of the end for investment manager Neil Woodford, for many years the sweetheart of tens of thousands of investors. 

Yes, June 3, 2019 was the day Woodford’s flagship fund, Woodford Equity Income, was forced to suspend dealings because it did not have enough cash to meet a wave of redemptions, with institutional investor Kent County Council leading the charge for the exit. 

He had been kidding investors. Woodford Equity Income was no more an equity income fund – paying investors a steady stream of dividends while keep their capital safe – than a spitting cobra is a family pet. It was full of illiquid, and toxic, assets. 

Super hero: There is a batch of fund managers, some young, working under the radar of most investors, who experts say are making a name for themselves

By now most of you will know what followed. Woodford Equity Income was dismembered, two other Woodford funds (Income Focus and Patient Capital) were given to other managers to run and Woodford Investment Management was wound up. 

As for Neil Woodford, he was last reported speaking to Chinese investors about making a comeback. I imagine coronavirus and rising geopolitical tensions have kyboshed that idea, leaving him plenty of time to polish his CBE and count his fortune in his Cotswolds hideaway, in between a little bit of horse riding (his biggest passion, apart from his wife). 

Yet with Woodford now a busted flush and his protege at his former employer Invesco, Mark Barnett, recently sacked for a period of woeful performance on the high profile Invesco Income and High Income funds, it begs the question as to whether active management has had its day. 

By active, I mean funds run by investment managers or teams, rather than by computers programmed to track a particular stock market index (known as passive investment). 

The answer is a resounding ‘no’. Some high profile and long-established ‘active’ managers such as Terry Smith (Fundsmith Equity), Nick Train (Lindsell Train Global Equity) and James Anderson (Scottish Mortgage) continue to crank out consistently impressive returns for investors. 

There is also a batch of fund managers, some young, working under the radar of most investors, who experts say are making a name for themselves. 

Indeed, some could be the investment stars of the future, though it must be remembered that, like markets, the fortunes of fund managers can fall as fast as they rise. 

Only a few – the Smiths, Trains and Andersons of this world – have remained at the top of their profession through thick and thin. 

Here are 14 fund managers who experts predict have what it takes to deliver impressive returns. 

Rising: Stephen Yiu created a £350m fund in under four years

STEPHEN YIU Blue Whale Growth 

Although Blue Whale Capital is only three and a half years old and has just one investment fund it is beginning to be recognised by some experts for its global approach. 

The fund is managed by 42-yearold Stephen Yiu from offices in London’s Mayfair. The fund already has assets of £350million and its performance is impressive. 

Since launch, it has generated an overall return of 58 per cent, while the average global investment fund has returned 19 per cent since September 2017. This year, despite the turmoil, the fund has achieved a respectable return of 10.7 per cent. 

Yiu founded Blue Whale Capital after a career in fund management at Hargreaves Lansdown – then New Star, Artemis and Nevsky Capital. He is backed by his former employer Peter Hargreaves, who is chairman of the business and a big personal investor in the fund. 

Born in Hong Kong and educated in Singapore and Britain, Yiu calls himself a ‘global citizen’. He reflects this in his fund while drawing on analysis from the four other members of Blue Whale’s investment team (all younger than him). 

Currently, the fund is 70 per cent invested in the US and the portfolio is spread across 25 stocks. Top holdings include Adobe, Amazon, Mastercard and Microsoft, stakes held since the fund’s launch. 

Like Smith at Fundsmith Equity, Yiu likes to hold big companies – preferably long-term – that generate lots of cash and have pricing power in the markets in which they operate. Portfolio changes are rare, the most recent disposals being stakes in luxury goods brand LVMH and InterContinental Hotels. 

Some 100 companies are on Blue Whale’s watchlist, with a theme being ‘digital transformation’. Yiu says he steers clear of banks, oil and gas companies, biotech stocks (‘too speculative’) and retailers. He adds: ‘We’re a young investment team, playing to our strengths and understanding how digitalisation is transforming the world we live in.’ 

Yiu is modest enough to say that the company’s investment process is ‘improving all the time’. 

Yet he is adamant he wants to cement a reputation as a ‘global specialist’ investing in ‘mega-capitalised companies’. He is not interested in smaller firms or portfolios with a specific geographic bent. 

He says: ‘I want the fund to be highly liquid at all times so investors can come in and get out when they want.’

HUGH YARROW and BEN PETERS Evenlode 

Unlike most fund managers, who are London-based, Hugh Yarrow and Ben Peters run their investment business from a barn conversion in Chipping Norton. The Oxfordshire air seems to work better for them than it did for Woodford and Invesco’s Barnett, who operated from Oxford and Henley-on-Thames respectively. Yarrow, a former fund manager with Rathbone Brothers, and Peters (a physicist by training) jointly manage its two main funds – the £3.5billion Evenlode Income and the £625million Evenlode Global Income – though Yarrow is lead manager on Income, and Peters the boss of Global Income. 

While a rash of dividend cuts across UK and global-listed companies is not a great backdrop for funds aiming to provide investors with a steady income, Evenlode’s emphasis on investing in quality companies should see it through. 

Jason Hollands, a director of wealth manager Tilney, says: ‘Yarrow and Peters are clear in how they manage money. Like Train and Smith, they buy great companies that generate lots of cash and then hold them for the long term. They buy large or medium-sized listed businesses, not market minnows.’ 

Both funds have 40 holdings, pay investors a quarterly income, and have a number of common holdings – the likes of Unilever and Reckitt Benckiser, which recently raised dividend payments. Global Income, however, has some 40 per cent of its assets in US-listed companies.

Over the past year, Global Income has generated a total return of 5.3per cent while Income has reported a small loss of 1.9 per cent. 

Over the same period, the FTSE All-Share index has fallen 10.4 per cent. Over five years, Income has generated a return of 50.6 per cent – nearly six times that of the FTSE All-Share index. (Global Income was only launched in September 2017.)

JAMES HARRIES Trojan Global Income 

Troy Asset Management was set up in 2000 to invest conservatively. Preserving your capital, it believes, is as important as making money. 

Though the firm’s driving force is founder and chief investment officer Sebastian Lyon – manager of £4.7billion Trojan fund – fund manager James Harries is considered by some as a rising star. 

He joined Troy in 2016 from investment house rival Newton and was the catalyst for the launch of Trojan Global Income. 

Harries says: ‘The key to looking after investors’ money is to remain conservative, focus on absolute rather than relative return, and run a portfolio that is robust.’ 

The performance of the £203million fund looks good, given the market backdrop. Over the past three months and six months, the fund has returned 5.2 per cent and 0.8 per cent respectively. Over the past three years, it has generated a total return of just under 22 per cent.

Ryan Hughes of wealth manager AJ Bell says the fund has ‘plenty of capacity to grow’ and ‘has impressively outperformed Lindsell Train Global Equity over the past couple of years’. 

He adds: ‘Harries has a clear idea of the companies he likes – quality businesses with pricing power, good cashflow and the ability to pay dividends.’ 

DAN WHITESTONE BlackRock Throgmorton 

Unlike many other managers running retail funds (funds for individual, rather than institutional, investors) Blackrock’s Dan Whitestone is happy to profit from shorting shares – banking on them falling in price – as well as holding them in the hope of price rises. 

It’s an approach that has caught the eye of Peter Sleep of wealth manager Seven Investment. He was impressed by the way Whitestone made money last year from shorting shares in Woodford Patient Capital and other ailing stocks that Woodford held – the likes of construction company Keir and litigation financer Burford Capital. 

Whitestone’s specialism is smaller firms and he has managed the investment trust since March 2015 – jointly to begin with, but as lead manager since early 2018. 

Annabel Brodie Smith, director of the Association of Investment Companies, says Whitestone is ‘passionate’ about smaller firms.

The trust’s short-term performance is nothing to write home about – three-month losses of 5.4 per cent – but over the past five years (when Whitestone has had a constant hand on the tiller), it has generated returns of nearly 90 per cent.

Bucking the trend: Alex Wright invests in out-of-favour firms

…and this one’s for the brave

ALEX WRIGHT Fidelity Special Situations and Fidelity Special Values 

FIDELITY’S Alex Wright is a contrarian investor who targets out-offavour companies he believes will come good – maybe as a result of a management overhaul, a takeover or a change in market sentiment.

It’s an approach – referred to as value investing as it involves buying them when they appear to offer good value – that has been out of favour and is wildly different to the investment mantras pursued by the likes of Terry Smith and Nick Train, who focus on big established companies generating cash in markets they have a dominant position in. 

Yet Tilney’s Jason Hollands is adamant that Wright is a manager to watch. He says: ‘Like nearly all value managers, including the legendary Warren Buffett, Wright’s funds have under-performed recently, but if the investment style tables turn, the two funds he manages should be in a good position to benefit.’ 

The performance numbers do not look good. Over the past year, the £2billion Fidelity Special Situations fund and £501million Special Values investment trust have recorded eye-watering losses of 20 per cent and 27 per cent. But Hollands says Wright has been successful in the past and sees no reason why he cannot come good again. Two funds for the brave investor.

OTHER MENTIONS 

Other managers (together with details of funds they manage and their relevant identification codes) that experts believe have something of a magic touch include: Laura Foll: co-manager of trusts Law Debenture (3142921), Lowland (0536806) and Henderson Opportunities (0853657). Alastair Laing: co-manager of trust Capital Gearing (0173861). Praveen Kumar: Baillie Gifford Shin Nippon (BFXYH24). Abby Glennie: Aberdeen Smaller Companies Income (0806372). Tom Slater: co-manager, Scottish Mortgage (BLDYK61), Simon Brazier: Ninety One UK Alpha (3107522). Mark Heslop and Mark Nichols, Jupiter European Growth (7510632). 

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