#red wouldn’t suit Laud either

[brokenbluebouquet]

Van Dyck, Archbishop William Laud, 1636, National Portrait Gallery, London

Even someone with a natural talent for sycophancy like van dyck could not make Laud look anything other than thin skinned and awkward. Despite this, you really should not underestimate this man, as too many did in his own lifetime.

William Laud (1573-1645) pronounced “lord” not “loud” (I learnt this the hard way) is probably the most important Archbishop of Canterbury of the period bar Thomas Cranmer from the previous century. Modern Anglicanism/Episcopalism is as much his vision as it is Cranmer’s.

He’s often associated with a movement called Arminianism which sought to reverse some Calvinist excesses such as the doctrine of predestination and a renewed emphasis on sacraments, liturgy and hierarchy. It, in Laud’s variant anyway, also emphasised royal power and was a theological basis for Charles’s vision of sacredotal kingship.

Laud’s strategy and vision was to return the Church in England back to its pre reformation status and wealth, albeit purged of “Romish” errors and puritan troublemaking. This was music to both Charles and George’s ears who were looking for allies and tools to shut down opposition and increase crown revenue.

Christopher Hill was on to something when he said that what Charles and Laud were doing was using the tools of the Catholic counter reformation to build an ostensibly Protestant autocratic monarchy boosted by a hierarchal authoritarian church; at the expense of the Calvinist aristocratic grandees, landowners, and merchant class who dominated the governance in the three kingdoms and their parliaments.

All this was part of a larger ideological programme of turning back the erosion of crown power and church wealth in both kingdoms, as well as the elimination of resistance theory and popular sovereignty as ideological alternatives to authoritarian monarchy and hirachical religion.

You don’t need to be a church historian or a theologian to see how grossly unrealistic and needlessly provocative this was. It all came to grief in Scotland where Laud and Charles’s hubristic ambitions met reality and their attempts to impose a revised liturgy for Scotland (really a copy and paste of the BCP) led to the Covenanter movement and the Scottish invasion of northern England, supported by treasonous lords like Warwick, Manchester, and Essex in England as a way to force Charles hand into recalling parliament. Soon Charles lost his authority, the country was engulfed in civil war. Laud was impeached, arrested, imprisoned on bogus charges of promoting “popery” and executed in 1645.

Laud was a thin skinned man who was often the subject of much criticism for his “low born” origins. Even Charles would later state that he was too indulgent of Laud’s “peevish humours” and that his obsession with ceremony and order was unnecessary. He often argued with others in council meetings and had a reputation for vindictiveness, as evidenced by the treatment of puritan pamphleteers like Burton, Bastwick, and Prynne, and the reliance on prerogative courts and church courts to enforce uniformity and punish dissent. This was summed up be Burton himself saying he’d been strangled by lawn sleeves and prynnes claim that the brand of SL was not “seditious libeller” but “stigmata laudis.”

Laud was out of place at the female dominated court of Charles I as he was deeply uncomfortable with women, and despite later claims, him and Henrietta could not stand each other. There is an old story that he was offered a Cardinal’s hat by pope Urban VIII but I’ve never seen any evidence for this and Laud also made a point of ostentatiously avoiding the Queen’s papal envoys and priests despite their best efforts to engage him.

He’s often believed to have aspired to in effect be a second Wolsey or an English Richelieu, there’s simply not enough evidence for these claims; besides lacking meaningful interest in foreign policy or military affairs, Laud did not have the self confidence, emotional discipline, or strategic vision for that kind of role, nor the appetite for it.

You would not guess that he had erotic dreams about George from this portrait (Laud was almost certainly gay - his own diary is the source of the dreams as well as sexual encounters with other men) and that he was a proud cat dad in an age of dog people (Richelieu was a cat dad too).

He also left the most withering judgement on Charles, before his execution in 1645, namely that he was “a mild and gracious Prince, that knows not how to be or be made great.” Ouch.

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Death Does Not Discriminate Between the Sinners and the Saints

Part 1

Tony Stark x Male Demon Reader

Word Count: 3361

This is for the amazing @charliedakotariley who keeps absolutely making my day with all the sweet things they say.

This one is a bit angsty, but there is fantastic tooth rotting fluff at the end for anyone who gets that far. Keep yourselves safe and don't read anything that will make you go down a bad path.

Warnings: The title kind of says it, we are going to be dealing with the concept of a loved one dying in this. NO-ONE ACTUALLY DIES.

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

Y/n had known for months now that something was wrong with Tony. They had gotten past the hurdle of Tony's new self-consciousness thanks to the arc reactor that was a part of him now, or at least Y/n thought they had. He had spent weeks reassuring Tony (in and out of bed) that he still found him attractive.

Of course, the rest of the world would be surprised to see Tony Stark be self-conscious about anything, but they didn't know him like Y/n did. He found Tony's public persona to be hilarious. As a literal demon he loved to watch Tony wind up anyone who thought they could get under his skin.

That had been a surprise to Y/n. He had approached Tony at a party one night for a little bit of fun. Hey, he wasn't about to censure himself, he was a demon. Fun was what he did best.

As cliche as it is, Y/n hadn't expected to fall for the dashing young man so many years before. He sighed for at least the tenth time that night. They had been together for years and still no-one had connected the dots.

'Friends my ass,' Y/n snorted as he thought back to that latest tabloid headline, 'or Tony's ass, as the case may be.'

The problem right now was that Tony was avoiding him. Y/n watched disinterestedly as Tony got eye-wateringly drunk at his birthday party.

Y/n was long over the days where all chaos was his preferred fun. That had stopped when he fell properly for the billionaire. He much preferred it when the chaos didn't stem from his boyfriend getting drunk, putting on his Iron Man suit and proceeding to destroy large parts of his home.

Pepper stood beside him looking equal parts furious and worried. She was alternating between biting her fingernails and sighing in frustration. She looked up at the much taller man.

"Isn't there anything you can do to stop him Y/n?"

Y/n's expression soured.

"No, he hasn't told me what's bugging him. He hasn't even looked at me once tonight."

That was when Rhodey came busting in wearing one of Tony's other suits. For a minute Y/n considered getting between them, but then he decided that if Tony couldn't be bothered to even talk to him, then he could get out of his own mess.

It wasn't until Y/n was back in his own apartment staring out into the darkness of the night sky that he realised what it was that had been bugging him.

Tony smelled like death.

----------

Y/n was a man of many talents. As a demon, he had lived for over a hundred years, all the while, seemingly never aging a day. He had been all over the world and met (and ruined) many amazing people. (Thank the devil for the light telepathic abilities he had that allowed him to make people see him as human looking. Well, at least more human than he really was.)

He had never once been in love. Until Tony. Y/n was starting to regret not getting closer to other humans over the years, because now he had no idea how to deal with the idea of Tony dying.

What was he going to do? He was a demon, they lived for over a thousand years at least. That was like the lowest natural age to die for a demon. He couldn't live the rest of his life without Tony, he was his everything.

That pulled Y/n up short. When had he fallen so low as to be so affected by the death of a lowly human? But that lowly human was Tony, his adorable chaos-creating boyfriend. He wasn't even dead yet, but Y/n was already acting like he was gone.

A glimmer of a thought flickered through Y/n's head.

There had to be something he could do, instead of sitting back and letting this happen. Tony could NOT die. Y/n wouldn't let it happen, no matter who had to fall in his place.

'How do you stop the death of someone who doesn't even know they are dying. If only there was a google search for something like this.'

Y/n grinned manically. They had healers in Asgard. Some of the best in the universe. He had heard whispers of paths between the realms here on Earth. Heck, he had even used some of them himself, how else did you think he got here in the first place?

Y/n's face set in determination. He could do this. He would stop Tony from dying even if it meant his own death.

He wasn't a demon for nothing after all.

-----------

Getting into Asgard shouldn't have been that easy Y/n lamented as he stepped out into the lush forest that surrounded the portal. He was pretty sure that there was supposed to be some all powerful, all seeing God that watched over the realms. Y/n wasn't sure what to do about that, but figured that if there wasn't a squad of Asgardian guards waiting to arrest/remove him on arrival then he must not be a valid concern.

Y/n bared his teeth at the thought. He considered letting his perception field fall and making a big dramatic entrance, but let it go.

'For Tony.'

Y/n walked as carefully as he could through the forest. It wouldn't do to get all tattered and look even more suspicious than he already would.

Luckily it didn't take more than an hour to get to the edge of the forest, and even more luckily it bordered on the golden city itself.

Y/n stopped to take in the grandeur of the city of Asgard and thought that he must be the only demon to have ever set foot in this realm. How ironic that he wasn't even there to try to destroy it like so many of his kin had dreamed of doing.

No one really paid Y/n much mind as he made his way into the city proper. It turned out Asgardians were taller than humans generally speaking, so Y/n actually fit in better here than on Earth where he just about towered over everyone.

He even saw a couple of other people with skin as pale as his was, and the same white hair. No one had eyes like his though. Y/n knew that his eyes looked like the lava that covered so much of his home realm. They even glowed if he got too emotional.

This realm was so much more open. The streets were wider, there was so much more room to move than on Earth. Y/n was starting to feel like a tourist, gaping at every little thing in the city. That wouldn't help him in blending in, but he couldn't help it. He had the sudden urge to see if he could do a full spin and not knock anything over.

That had been one of the hardest things to unlearn when he first made it to Earth. His long armored tail was pretty unwieldy in such tight enclosed spaces, so he had had to learn to balance all over again with his tail tucked closer to his body. Unfortunately his perception field only changed how people saw him, so if they tripped over his tail and really looked to see what had tripped them, they sometimes saw what he really looked like. Luckily for him, they were usually written off as insane or, as one really unlucky woman found, it was written off as women's hysteria.

Y/n reined that thought back in and tucked it away for later. If he got out of this alive he would think about it later.

Y/n was sure that the best healers would work in the palace, but that would mean trying to sneak in and abscond with a royal physician. That would be noticed much more quickly, and would be met with a much harsher response.

Y/n set his shoulders back in determination. He would just have to be incredibly convincing, or this would go sideways much too quickly.

'Well,' Y/n thought grimly, 'at least that would solve the problem of watching Tony die slowly.'

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

The palace was quiet. This was just too odd. Something supernatural must be at work here.

Y/n was starting to freak out. He had made his way into the palace totally unhindered, and even his admittedly amazing luck had never been that good.

He slunk around another corner, still on high alert. Which was why he didn't miss the shimmer in the air that meant something else was in this space with him.

Y/n shot out an arm at it, aiming for the same height as his own neck.

His hand caught around a slimmer neck than his own, and he tightened his grip to almost unbearable for a demon. He wasn't about to underestimate the people of Asgard.

The stories of Asgardians from back on his own realm lauded them as incredibly strong and fast, and able to live as long as demons themselves.

The Asgardian struggled fiercely for a moment, but when it became apparent that Y/n was stronger than them, they slumped and dropped whatever incantation had allowed them to be invisible.

They appeared to be male, and around the same age as Y/n, but then, so had Tony when they had first met.

Y/n shoved the man away from him hard, and took up a fighting stance.

The other man sputtered and heaved in deep breaths to make up for his previous lack, thanks to Y/n. He looked pretty pathetic, laying against the wall, black hair falling over his face, which was red from lack of air.

"Why have you brought me here mage?"

The man looked up, affecting a surprised expression.

"What makes you think I have brought you here? Are you not an assassin, here to remove either the King or Crown Prince? Both are in the throne room, if you were interested."

Y/n remained in his stance, passive.

"I have the feeling that you know why I'm here already."

The man pulled himself up at last.

"Fine, I might have sensed you when you first stepped foot in our realm. I must say, I haven't seen anyone from Helheim before. Whatever are you doing here, a place that some have dubbed the promised land, home of the Gods?"

"You don't half think highly of yourself, do you?"

The man's response is a sneer.

"I need help."

Y/n stood up from his stance. It didn't feel like this man was going to attack him, and he could hardly ask for help much less receive it while preparing to attack.

He definitely gave off an odd vibe, but it wasn't an 'I'm about to kill you and all of your family just for breathing near me' vibe.

The man looked positively delighted.

"A demon of Helheim needs help," He crowed. "What can I, the humble Loki of Asgard, do to help you Oh Great Demon of Helheim?"

Y/n's left eye twitched, but he reigned himself in once again. Just because Loki seemed like he would benefit from a good smack upside the head, that didn't make it his job to deliver it.

"My, paramour, is in need of a healer. We do not have the ability to heal him, and I will not see his life ended without every attempt having been made to save it."

Loki apparently noticed the pause at the beginning of my request.

"My, my, what type of paramour could you possibly have that would warrant such a delicately put request? Surely not another demon, I thought you were nigh on indestructible?"

He was wandering around Y/n now, getting closer in his circling, all the better to whisper intimidatingly in his ear.

"Perhaps, to be in such desperate need of rescue that you, a demon, would risk everything by coming here of all places, your 'paramour' is something a little more frail?"

Y/n took it back, Loki was pure evil. He grit his teeth and squashed the urge to deck him in his smug face.

"Me thinks, perhaps, something so frail as, a human?"

They stood face to face in silence.

"Your silence speaks volumes my dear."

Y/n lost the battle. With a cry of outrage that came from somewhere deep inside he leapt at the smug God and prepared to smash his stupid face into pieces.

Shockingly his fist simply went through Loki's face. The image rippled and flickered out as it did so.

It flickered back into place beside him.

He spun into a roundhouse kick and the God went down.

"Stop! Dammit, just stop!"

'Some God,' thought Y/n.

"I was sent to get you."

Y/n was done with these so-called Gods and their mind games.

"What do you mean you were sent to get me? Spit it out!"

Loki looked up and glared at Y/n from his position on the floor.

"You were Seen. The moment you stepped foot into Asgard Heimdall Saw you and reported it to the All-Father. Luckily for you Queen Frigga Saw that you weren't here to attack, and that you only sought our help. I was sent to collect you and bring you to her rooms."

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

The Queen turned out to be much sweeter than Y/n had assumed. He had heard stories of course, but how much could be believed from the daughter who was banished to Helheim?

"Y/n, come, sit. How was your trip dear?"

Y/n was confused. She was acting like they were old friends. As far as he knew he had never met the Queen of Asgard before.

"Ma'am, I'm here for aid. My partner is not long for our home realm. I could smell death on him."

Y/n looked at the ground and clenched his hands into fists.

"I can't lose him. I thought once before that he was gone for good, but he fought tooth and nail to come back to me. Now I am having to sit and watch as something pulls him ever closer to deaths waiting arms. Please, I'll do anything, but please, heal him."

Y/n knew he was begging, but what else could be done. He had thought maybe he could intimidate a regular healer into healing Tony. After that was hazy, but he had been prepared to do anything that would be necessary to make Tony better.

This was not going to plan. He couldn't do anything to make the Queen decide to help him, he would just have to appeal to her softer side.

Frigga knelt by Y/n's side and softly took one of his hands in hers. Her eyes softened as she took in the genuine distress on Y/n's face.

"There is nothing to be done dear. No, don't panic, your loved one is fine. You were right, he was dying, but events have conspired to keep Tony Stark alive. Something needs him still alive, and I am talking about something bigger than you or I. He lives, and at this moment is going just a little bit more out of his mind than normal in his search for you."

Y/n was on his feet and by the door before Frigga had even finished speaking.

"Wait!"

Y/n turned, not wanting to waste another second when he knew that Tony was looking for him, but not able to be disrespectful of the one who had given him hope back.

"Eventually, when you are both ready for that next step, come back and bring your partner. I can organise for one of Idunn's golden apples. You can grow old together."

Tears gathered in Y/n's eyes at the offer.

"But, why? I'm a demon. Tony is a human. Neither of us are anything special. Why are you offering this to us?"

Frigga smiled, beautiful but so broken.

"Because you remind me of someone. So passionate and loyal to the ones who you love that you are willing to flatten entire realms."

Y/n didn't know what to say to that, so he turned back to face Frigga fully. He bowed from the waist to her.

"Thank you Queen Frigga of Asgard. I am in your debt."

Y/n heard her words spoken softly as he left, not entirely for his ears.

"Will you ever forgive us, my dear daughter?"

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

Tony was broken. He had thought that the lowest he could get was knowing that he was dying from something that was supposed to be saving his life.

He was wrong. When he had finally come up for air after the whole thing with his arc reactor, Shield and the Hammer Fiasco as he was calling it, he had realised that he hadn't seen Y/n since his disastrous birthday.

He had searched for what felt like forever. Not even Jarvis could find any mention of Y/n anywhere in the world. It was like he had dropped off the face of the planet.

Tony was now spending his time in his boyfriends apartment. He was sure that when he finally came back from wherever he had been, this was one of the first places he would go. He loved his boyfriend, but they were both equally as vain as the other. Any big dramatic entrance back into Tony's life would need to be planned out meticulously by Y/n. So he was sure if he just waited in his apartment he would see him again.

He was not wrong, he realised with rising hope as he heard the door swing open. He poked his head up over the back of Y/n's couch, hair a mess, goatee completely unkempt, knowing that he was wearing rumpled clothes that hadn't been washed in a few days.

In short, he was the only thing that Y/n wanted to see when he got home.

They collided with a slightly painful thump, banging limbs into each other, but not caring in the slightest.

"Oh God, Y/n, I'm so sorry! I--"

"Tony! Thank God you're alright!"

They fell into hysterics at this. Both knew that it wasn't funny at all, but after all the stress they had been through lately, simply being in each others arms was the most amazing feeling in the world.

Neither of them wanted to move, but common sense won out in the end, and they found themselves on the couch some time later.

They had pulled a soft blanket out of somewhere and where wrapped up together, totally unwilling to move for as long as possible.

"I was so scared when I realised you were dying. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tony had never heard Y/n so quiet before. He sighed heavily.

"I wanted to, but then whenever I tried to tell anyone, it wouldn't come out. It was never the right time, and then I realised that I didn't want anyone's last memories of me to be clouded with the knowledge that I was going to die soon. You especially. I didn't want you to have to carry that around, that I was dying and there was nothing you could have done about it."

They were silent for a while after that.

"Maybe that makes me selfish, but I couldn't bear the thought of adding to the hurt you were already going to feel when it happened. God, I'm so sorry."

Y/n just pulled Tony in closer, wrapped him up a little tighter into his arms.

"It's okay, but next time, tell me. I know you remember that I'm a demon. You have the best memory in the world. Next time you have some unsolvable problem, let me in. There might be something I can do that you can't, but even if there isn't, we would still shoulder that problem together. There's nothing I would rather do, than try to help lighten the load."

Tony was crying now, he could feel the tears dripping openly down his face, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I love you, so much it hurts. Never leave me."

"I will always love you Tony. You've changed me irrevocably. If there ever was a point where I could have turned away from you, if was long ago. You're never getting rid of me now."

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch.4

In Which: exposition for exposition's sake exists, and Vlad looks way more suspcious than he ought

| AO3 | Prologue | 3 | [4] | 5

VLADIMIR MASTERS. Human male in his mid-forties, and most notably the founder and CEO of VladCo, a billion-dollar industry that mostly specializes in manufacturing weapons and technology. Graduated summa cum laude from the University of Wisconsin despite having to drop out due to a lab accident in his second year, landing him in the hospital. Despite being based primarily in Wisconsin, he made an unexpected move to Amity Park Illinois shortly after reuniting with his college friends Drs. Madeline and Jack Fenton.

Not even a year later, Masters ran for mayor of Amity Park and won the election by a landslide. Suspicious, considering Masters being an unknown and the former mayor Montez being quite popular. It’s during Masters’ tenure in office that reports of ghost attacks to the Justice League steadily died down.

“Why?” Damian asked.

Barbara shrugged, pulling up a few files on the screen. “I originally had a theory that related to VladCo’s buyout of Axion Labs—a technological research and manufacturing company that’s mostly local to Amity—being a factor. Within the last couple of years, they had been experimenting with highly volatile chemicals with hallucinogenic properties. Amity had always been known for being extremely superstitious with its ghosts, and if Axion Labs had somehow accidentally released that chemical into the city, well…” She leaned back into her chair, hand twisting in the air. “You could bet how that ended up. The hysteria around ghosts only grew worse in the last two years, with suspected sightings from once every few weeks to multiple in a single day. Early attempts to capture sightings were unsuccessful, and soon enough Amity Park was just written off.”

Much like the mass hysteria surrounding the urban legend of the kuchisake-onna in Japan in the late 1970s, Bruce thought. He pulled up some news footage from Amity Park dated a few years back of citizens being interviewed about their ghostly encounters. Beside these videos were a few photos taken by a shaky camera, showing bright blurs of light streaking across the sky or vaguely humanoid shapes rising from the ground.

“So VladCo., bought out Axion Labs, improved its security, and slowly helped detoxify the town?” Damian shifted his weight onto his other leg and crossed his arms.

“That’s what I thought, but—”

“But the ghosts ended up being real.” Bruce pulled up a video of a field reporter-slash-weatherman taking cover as a figure dropped from the sky, breaking through the walls of a building. The figure—features distorted by an eerie glow—shot out of the rubble just in time before a green blast hit it.

Oracle enlarged other news footage with a few taps on her keyboard. Beings zooming through the air. Massive plants erupting from the ground. Technology coming to life. Each video more worrying than the last, and most showing some footage of a figure bathed in a white glow. “I’d be hard pressed to call any of these faked.”

It begged the question as to how Amity Park survived this long unscathed. Since, if he remembered correctly, even the Dark Leaguers tended to avoid Amity Park like the plague. “They have their own heroes, then?”

“Think along the lines of vigilantes with unofficial support.” A few more files popped up on screen. One showcased a female in a full-length black and red body suit on top of a hover board. The other was a male; young, perhaps a teenager, with white hair and a black and white suit. Hazmat? “The Red Huntress and the Phantom of Amity Park.”

“Partners?”

“More like enemies working on the same turf. Sources place Phantom as appearing first, though it seems Red Huntress has more government support in the end despite there being no official statement. They seem to be the most effective ghost hunters in town, though far from the only ones. The Fentons of Fenton Works are also acting as ghost hunters, though their track record of success leans more towards their anti-ghost tech than any hunting. The town’s even attracted visitors from the Ghost Investigation Ward; a side branch of Cadmus though a now defunct organization.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Damian said. “If anything, this should be more than enough reason for a League intervention. Why the Justice League didn’t come sooner is the real question here.”

Bruce’s lips thinned. “That’s because we were warned off it.”

“What?”

While there was no rule against heroes entering another hero’s city, there were certain unspoken rules that demanded that JL members avoid claimed cities or stay just outside of city lines until given permission to enter. Some were especially strict about it such as Batman’s ‘no metas or outsiders’ rule. Others were more lenient, simply requesting a warning before entering.

Amity Park, despite having no listed heroes in the database, was marked with heavy ‘Do Not Interact’ warnings for humans and metas alike.

“Justice League Dark said that under no circumstances should the League interfere in Amity. The situation was never explicitly laid out for us except to say that everything was being handled.”

“Oh yeah,” Oracle chimed. “Constantine even had it bolded, underlined, italicized, and in all caps. The occult community was very clear about everyone staying away—and apparently this decision had support from Amity Park too.” She pulled up another document. “That’s probably what led to the decline in their ghost reports, actually. Amity’s claims were considered bogus and brushed aside. No one outside their town—not even their sister town of Elmerton—believed them, so they simply stopped asking for help.”

Strangely, it reminded Bruce of Gotham. Both cities existed in its own isolated sphere, unwilling to let any outsiders interfere in its business.

“It’s safe to assume, then, that whatever Ra’s al Ghul wants with Amity, it has to do with these ghosts. Do we have anyway to contact the town’s vigilantes?”

Oracle shook her head. “Ghost attacks within the past few months have slowly died down along with sightings of Phantom and Red Huntress. Your best bet is asking Masters directly.”

Damian glowered. “Masters blatantly sent out an invitation for Batman to my father. How do we know that Masters hasn’t somehow found our secret identities?”

“Unlikely,” Bruce said. “Vlad Masters, despite his wealth, has done well to keep a low profile. He’s met Bruce Wayne a total of three times within the last decade and Batman not at all.” That, and with the kind of spyware Batman has, he’d be able to tell when, where, and who was trying to dig deep into Batman’s past. Masters hadn’t even registered as a ping.

“Besides, there’s always a few rumors of Wayne Enterprise’s involvement with Batman. All this tech has to come from somewhere, no?”

“How long is Masters staying in Gotham?”

“Umm…” Oracle leaned forward in her chain and flipped through a half-dozen windows. “Going by his reservations at the Gotham Royal Hotel, he’s leaving tomorrow.”

Bruce pivoted on his heel, heading deeper into the Cave. “We better make this count, then.”

------

According to Oracle’s intel, Vlad Masters was staying at one of the executive suites in the Gotham Royal Hotel. A titanic structure with forty-eight floors, two towers, and the gothic aesthetic that never seemed to leave Gotham’s architecture.

Scaling the building as well as entering the suite proved no challenge for Batman and Robin. But upon entrance, it was abundantly clear that the room was vacant.

“Are you sure you guys are in the right room?” Bruce could hear the clicking of Oracle’s keys through their comms. “Masters had reserved the suite on the west tower.”

“Yes we’re in the correct room, Gordon,” Robin hissed.

“Codenames only, Robin.”

Robin clicked his tongue, sweeping the common room for any hidden bugs or cameras as Batman scouted out the rest of the room. The bed was made to hotel standard and the bathroom towels all completely replaced. There were no clothes in the hotel closet or dresser.

The only thing left that indicated occupancy of the room was an unmarked manila envelope unsubtly tucked within a pillowcase.

Robin tensed at the sight of it. “A detonator of some sort?”

Batman rotated the package, holding it up to his scanner. “Doesn’t seem to be. Regardless, it might be better to take it back to the Batcave and locate Masters ag—” The envelope started ringing. A standard ringtone found in most phones. Quickly, but carefully, Batman opened the manila envelope and dumped its contents onto the bed. A ringing burner phone and a flash drive came tumbling out.

Batman threw the flash drive at Robin before answering the phone, holding it up against his ear but saying nothing.

Silence. Then, Masters’ voice filtered in through the phone with a strange echo-like quality. “Good evening, Batman! I’m so glad my invitation managed to get passed along.”

Batman growled into the speaker, “What do you want, Masters?” He signaled Robin to do another sweep of the room for any signs of Masters they might have missed.

“I sincerely apologize for not being there to meet you myself; incredibly rude of me, I know. But it cannot be helped, the shadows are growing ever bolder.”

“So, you are aware then, of the League of Assassins’ presence in Amity Park?”

“A league of assassins? What a terrifying notion that is.” Batman frowned. It was unlikely that they had misread his words at the gala, so why was he acting unaware now? Could he be watched? “Why such a group would appear in my little town, I wouldn’t even dare to guess.”

Robin came back into the room and signaled back ‘negative.’

“Why did you call for us, Mayor Masters?”

“Do you know what is so very tragic, Batman?”

“This is strange,” Oracle said. “I can’t pick up his signal. He’s not appearing on any of my cameras, either.”

“When someone so young dies much to soon.” A pause. “Could you even imagine such a thing? A parent burying their own child.”

Batman could. He had no need to even imagine it because he lived it.

“Some very close friends of mine have been weighed down by the shadows of death and I require help in providing them the closure they need.”

“Are the Fentons the targets, then?”

Masters paused. Then let out a breathy laugh over the phone. “Oh, if only it were that simple.”

“So a different target.”

“Everything you need to know is in the flash drive I’ve enclosed in that envelope Whether you take up the case is entirely up to you—though I do hope you take it. Regardless, if he is not returned soon then I assure you that a disaster unlike any you have seen before will arrive.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat, Masters?”

“No,” He laughed. “That was no threat. That was promise.”

The phone line disconnected just as Oracle exclaimed that she finally found Masters boarding his flight back to Amity Pak.

[princess-mei]

It Is All an Illusion ❤️ [Sei]

In which Sebastian and Mei face off in the arena...

@sebastian-morey​

[tw -- burns, burn injury, description of burns, death]

MEI: The cornucopia glinted bright and Mei smiled when she saw it. The sands beneath it were dyed with blood, but it looked more or less undisturbed otherwise. The bodies were gone and so was all the supplies. But no one had returned. Not until Mei stepped foot on it. She crossed over the water carefully, staying alert, but leaned against the cool metal, in the shade. This would be a good place to camp.

That was until she heard the crash of the wave and saw the waters around her swell, lapping up over the beach before they disappeared again. And with it—delivered a little gift.

Mei smirked. This was going to be good. She could play with her food before she murdered it.

“Seb!” A voice called that was not Mei’s own as she pulled an illusion from behind the cornucopia, right in the path of the man.

“Hey, Sixxer,” she purred as she held her battle axe to the pretty Victor’s throat.

“The Capitol sent me a gift.”

SEBASTIAN: Sebastian was soaking fucking wet - still hacking up water from his lungs and trying to get the previous events out of his head. He didn't want to think about them anymore. There were already too many experiences and too many horrors that plagued his mind.

They never said this would be easy - but no one ever talked about the psychological toll it would take on you either. Then again, he should have known. There was a glint in Gem's eyes that changed ever since he'd gone to the games. He'd been different. Changed and now he--

....was here?

Gaze snapped up quickly at the sound of his younger brother's voice, his footing even more unsteady as he sped up his uneven gait. "G-...Gemmy?" He called out uncertainly (maybe he'd started going nuts?) But then another voice - right as Sebastian's gaze finally found his brother.

Standing with a blade to his neck.

His heart clenched, and Sebastian felt his entire mouth run dry. This wasn't possible. Gem shouldn't be here. Not with the fucking Career! But... - He'd won his games in two days. He'd killed them all. Made for a boring show... Was--... was this his punishment? His hands burned hot - the flame beneath his skin itching to get out as he set his jaw.

"A gift? Are you out of your fuckin' mind? Let him go." He warned - hoping his tone carried more strength than he felt as his gaze slipped back to Gem.

MEI: Mei smirked.

Her heart was thrumming in her ears, but she knew that she could kill this boy from Six and then everyone would laud her for killing the Victor's brother. She'd be showered in gifts tomorrow morning, if she could only last the day after this. Maybe she'd even return to the Careers to share her spoils. If only to stay on their good side one more day.

The boy--Seb--was far enough away that he couldn't see Mei's hand tremble where it held the axe to his fake brother's throat.

"Mmm, no. I don't think so," Mei said with a shrug of her shoulders. She had to concentrate to keep the illusion up. But she made it struggle like a puppet on a string.

"Don't listen to her, Seb," pleaded the puppet.

SEBASTIAN: What do I do?

What do I do?!

For all the stupid advice, the tips, the help he'd received in all of this, he'd never been prepared to deal with this. With.. with his brother here as a pawn in some Career's fun little game. Hostage negotiation wasn't a part of the training stations.

Sebastian's breath came out as unsteadily as the shift in his weight, desperation painting across his brow as he shook his head lightly back at his brother. His hand shifted slightly - reaching towards the hilt of his sword as he took another half step forward. It wasn't much. He didn't want it to be. Seb didn't want to give this woman (she was crazy, he was sure) reason to put any more pressure against his brother's throat.

"...W-...What do you want." He said then, gaze quickly slipping between the two as his other hand raised in a careful calming gesture. "...Food? My weapons? What do you want? He's not a part of this. Killing him doesn't---" He couldn't stop the way his voice cracked around those words "---doesn't help you win. It doesn't help you!"

MEI: They've gotten to the begging. That was quick. Not that Mei was particularly surprised. The people from Six were always so weak willed. Even the brother had been a coward. Burned down the arena in such a short time. So boring. So cowardly. They had no backbones whatsoever. Even when they got hits in, they ran away. They never finished the job.

Mei would.

Just had to get him close enough.

"I think a life for a life makes sense, right, Gemmy?" she cooed at the Victor, who was from her own memory which meant shiny and pretty in the lights of the Capitol. She tried to muss his hair some, put some dirt on his high cheekbones but--it was hard to imagine such a thing while keeping him alive.

"Just let her kill me," said the apparition, struggling again. Mei let her axe knick the edge of his neck, a little trickle of blood sliding into his shirt.

SEBASTIAN: A life for a life.

Sebastian swallowed hard at the offer, his heart thumping so loud in his chest he was convinced it was going to break right through right now. End the problem here and now by just keeling over dead from the stress and fear of it all.

God, it wasn't fair.

"Gem! N-.. No!" He cried, letting himself jerk forward a bit more still as both hands raised now - gaze following that trail of blood that seeped into the worn fabric. "Stop. Stop." Sebastian pleaded lightly, another step forward - another glance towards his brother.

Think, Sebastian.

His hands stayed up for a moment as he caught his brother's gaze, though they made what looked like a small dismissive gesture as they dropped lower again in a means of surrender. Though in reality, he knew Gem would have caught the sign for go as his hands shifted. Would have known he was looking to make a move.

"Alright. Alright! A-..A life for ..for a life. I--.. Fine. J-...Just let him go. Please." Another step. Another small raise of his hands to show he was unarmed.

The flame still burning under his skin. Waiting.

He just had to get closer.

MEI: Mei shuffled forward as Sebastian did. She didn't think this would actually work. It meant she would have to be fast. Dart forward, slash him across the throat. She only had one shot. Her concentration couldn't be on two things at once. As soon as she moved, the illusion would disappear and the Sixxer would catch on.

Though, she could still probably best him.

One--Seb kicked up sand as he walked closer.

Two--Mei shifted onto one foot, twisting her grip on the axe.

Three--She shoved the illusion away and took a powerful, backhanded swing, right at the man's head with a battle cry.

SEBASTIAN: He didn't this would actually work - it just meant he needed to be fast.

Catch her off guard, push forward and hope he was as familiar with fire as he thought he was. He could pull Gem away while she was recovering and he knew his brother would know what to do once he had his bearings. All he had to do w——

It all happened too fast. Mei shoved Gem away - and he seemed to vanish in thin air, melting away into the background as it occurred to Sebastian that he hadn't been there at all. But there was no time to consider that. Not when the glint of the axe was swinging towards him.

Two more things happened at once:

One, his body jerked in reaction, dropping back and away from the swipe, even as he felt a sear of pain slice across his features. Not quite quick enough to avoid injury, but enough to avoid the fatal blow

— and two, he reacted without thought. Like a cornered animal.

Fire shot from his arms, scorching down his limbs and extending out towards Mei in a giant flame as his back hit the ground - water splashing up and sizzling against the bright flare before it faded out just as quickly, a smokey haze left behind as blood dripped into the shallow water beneath him from his brow.

MEI: Mei had been thinking about the future. This whole time, she had a plan in her mind.

It never seemed to work out the way she expected, but having that plan helped her. And, of course, the plan always ended with winning. With surviving. Getting back to her mom and dad and sisters. Becoming famous. Sponsoring a perfume bottle that smelt of rich, succulent plums.

The plan did not include this asshole shooting a wall of flame at her like a flamethrower. She screeched and dodged out of the way of the flame. Her heart beating faster. The heat of the flames scorched at her, burning the sand under her feet and turning it slippery as glass. It licked at her bare torso, turning it red and pink all over.

Her hand clutched at her side.

"How?" she panted, but she knew how.

Fey's.

Suddenly, she felt unsteady. She was not the only one being favored. Her confidence wavered but she raised her axe again and darted forward. She had always been fast. It had always been her strong suit. Raising it above her head, she moved quickly, bringing it down to try and slash at Seb's side. @Laurho

SEBASTIAN: He tried not to waste time, shoving himself back in the water as he felt the warmth flushing down against his face. It made him want to panic - but there wouldn't be time for that. Not if he wanted to live. Time to panic would come later. ...hopefully.

"...S-..same as you." He mumbled back - unsure why he'd even dignified her with a response. It very well could have been the last thing he ever said.

For a moment, it was like time stopped. Sebastian seemed to watch in slow motion as the woman adjusted her footing - the axe raising above her head. Poised and ready for the attack. Perhaps...it was because he was going to die. Maybe it...was a sign. He'd see it coming and think of all the ways he could stop it but it was inevitable...wasn't it?

But he had to fight. He promised he would try. It wasn't a death sentence - and he still had the best weapon in the game. Fey's alone was one thing... but there was something more important.

Experience.

His eyes squeezed tightly closed as his hands raised again - almost as if he were about to protect himself from the blow as his entire frame shifted sideways. A last ditch effort to dodge her axe as he felt the heat explode from around his skin. Hot flame erupted from his finger tips - shooting up like a hose towards his target and burning bright against the evening sun.

It didn't stop the scared cry that slipped from his lips as he tried to concentrate everything on simply lighting up as much as he could, his entire body bracing for that moment when the axe would break through his defenses and finally land.

MEI: For a moment, Mei felt nothing at all except the heat. It burst bright and intense all around her. Her vision was full of it. She was disoriented, blinded. It was as if the sun had exploded.

The searing pain came a moment later and she couldn't help the scream that ripped from her throat. And then another. The axe dropped uselessly from her hand as she raised her arms on instinct to try and shield her face from the burn of it.

It was too late though. The flames had already made quick work of her flesh, melting it like candle wax. Her long, black hair combusted into dust. All she could do was scream as the flames engulfed one side of her. They licked lovingly against her exposed torso, bubbling it like the tea on the stove that her sister always made at home. Her scream whistled like the tea pot.

She fell to her knees as the flames vanished, her whole body trembling from the shock. Her body pitched forward into the sand, the grains embedding in her liquid flesh. She groaned hoarsely, before managing, with the last bit of her adrenaline to push herself up onto her side and roll over onto her back.

SEBASTIAN: The screams were his first indication that whatever he'd done worked. The second was the lack of another blow to his body. Though honestly? Neither of them actually brought him that much comfort.

If anything the scream haunted him - made his eyes squeeze tighter as his fingers shook, curling gently into fists as the flames petered out. For a few moments? The sounds of pain - the smell of burning flesh, hair and god knows whatever else. It made bile rise in his throat as a shaky breath ripped from his lips like a sob.

It was over.

His eyes peeked open then, slowly, and Sebastian had to remind himself to swipe blood from his features - staining the back of his hand a bright red as his gaze finally landed on the Career's body. It was over.

But... no canon had sounded.

Sebastian swallowed thickly - almost afraid to move as he forced himself to look at her body. The... horrified mangle of skin and ---... Again, bile rose quickly before he swallowed it back down, pushing himself to his knees with a gasped breath. He needed to leave. She'd die or...be found by the Careers and helped with whatever stockpile. He just had to leave.

But he couldn't. Sebastian couldn't bring himself to - instead only crawling through the shallow water, fingers lodging in sand before he found himself beside her. God, how was she still fucking alive?

"M-....Mei?"

MEI: There was nothing but the pain. Her whole world had become it. Who was she? Nothing but another Capitol punishment. Another Capitol toy. Someone who would be forgotten tomorrow, when there was more blood to be spilt.

Her breath rasped, happening only on instinct. She stared up at the sky but one of her eyes wasn't working properly. It rolled in her head toward the sound of a voice. Her name. Her name was Mei and it meant "beautiful". Her fingers curled in the sand, but the pieces were cold and slipped through her fingers.

"Seb?" she rasped, trying to find his face through the blur of her vision. "It hurts," she whimpered.

SEBASTIAN: Oh god.

Oh god. Oh god what did he do? Guilt clenched in his heart as he shifted forward a bit more, hands swiping into the water to clean them frantically before he reached out - but he stopped just short of touching her.

How could he? He didn't want to hurt her anymore than he already had. Please. Sarina's voice in his head made him flinch. An eerie reminder of the girl's last wishes before he'd taken her life - and here again he was back in that situation. It'd been life or death! He hadn't had a choice but - ...it didn't feel real right now. It couldn't feel right when he was staring at Mei's mangled, scorned body laid in front of him. Blood dripped from his chin, landing upon the back of his palm once more as he bit down on a short sob.

"I--... I..I'm s-..I'm sorry." He found the will to say, swallowing back again as warmth pooled by his eyes. This time however it wasn't the warmth of his own blood. "I--...It'...it's..it's okay. It's..it's okay. I-.. You're okay." No she wasn't. No she wasn't, Sebastian. You did this.

Hesitantly - and as softly as Sebastian had ever managed to do something, the man's hand reached out - slipping his fingers gently into her own with a small squeeze. She was so... young. She was practically a child. "I-..you're..you're fine.."

MEI: Mei suddenly felt very cold. The heat had seeped out of her quickly. Every shiver sent another shot of pain through her. Her wild eye found the boy's dark ones. There was a bright red gash on his cheek. She remembered blood blooming on Dot's side. She remembered red seeping into Rose's pants. Hera's body thrashing under her.

"I'm sorry too," Mei said and a sob burst out of her mouth, causing her whole body to convulse once, her fingers squeezing at Seb's. The strength in her good hand surprisingly strong still. Her heart beat was fluttering fast in her chest.

Mei had had a plan but--there was so much pain, she couldn't remember it.

"I'm scared," she admitted. She had been scared this whole time. It almost felt like a relief to admit it to someone.

SEBASTIAN: Sebastian bit down roughly on his lip to stop himself from sobbing too - tasting the metallic twinge on his tongue as he gaze the girl's hand another squeeze. It felt in time with the squeeze in his chest, falling into the pit of dread he held in his stomach.

She...she was dying. No - not dying. She was suffering and it was his fault.

"Y-...You don't..you don't have to be scared." He managed, just barely - letting his opposite hand reach out towards her features. Though again, he hesitated - hovering above her skin before he shifted just enough to avoid the side of her face where the flesh had charred into something almost unrecognizable. His calloused thumb brushed softly against her skin - surprised almost by how soft it was. Never a victim of harsh conditions (at least...until now).

"I'm right here...Y-...You're not a-alone, okay? I--.. You don't have t'be scared. It's..it's okay." And for a moment - it almost felt like it could have been. Like if he just imagined, the stupid arena around them would disappear - and he'd be back home. With the comfort of his family, and she would be too. That it would be okay. For both of them.

MEI: Seb touched her skin and Mei closed her eyes. She thought of her mother, touching her cheek before pulling her hair back into a bun, getting her ready for her ballet lessons. She thought of her father, cuffing her on the chin, saying that's my girl whenever she brought home a trophy. She thought of her sisters and how they kissed her cheeks as soft as raindrops. And how she loved them and missed them and wanted to go home.

When she opened her eyes, the arena had dropped away. There was a soft pink light and she was in her bed at home. Seb was in the white wicker chair she used to curl up in to do her homework. It had been pulled close to the bed, so that he could still hold her hand. Around her, her mother and father smiled and her sisters held onto each other.

And as she looked at this lovely scene, more people joined in. First, the Victor--the brother--curling his hand around Seb's shoulder. Then others. People she didn't recognize. But they all smiled and Mei smiled too. The good side of her face curled up to expose those pretty teeth of hers.

"I'm not alone," she rasped, her breathing was coming more shallow, more sharp. "A-and neither are you."

Mei took another breath and then let it go. The grip on Seb's hand loosened. The illusion faded.

In the distance, a canon fired.

SEBASTIAN: The grip on Mei's hand got stronger, and he wished so desperately that he could do something. That he could take it all back. She was just a kid. She was a child, and he'd forced this pain upon her. The Capitol had forced this upon her. She didn't deserve it. None of them had. A sob broke through his lips, and he tried his best to stop it. But the emotion overcame him, even as he tried to swipe away his tears against his shoulder. His eyes closed against stained fabric - and when they opened?

He was sitting against Mei's bedside - his brothers and strangers alike lined up around them. A.. comforting little scene. A harsh but welcomed comparison to the blood soaked arena they'd left. A... a fitting place to die. Surrounded by family. Loved ones.

She wasn't alone. She wouldn't be alone.

Maybe then she...she could at least have that peace. Maybe then...she'd finally be at rest.

The pressure around his fingers faded - and with it, did the one against his shoulder, both leaving him with a similar clench in his gut.

When his gaze lifted once more, Sebastian found himself back in the arena. Mei's now lifeless corpse still beside him... but other than that...

He was once again alone.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXVI

January 12, 2278.

Good question.

Of all the operatives I was trained with, Vanth was the one who took to the program best. Our proctors will ask her to jump, and she’ll jump. If a contract holder asks her to beat a civilian up, she’ll do it without blinking. If a corrupt old pervert asks her to ride her fellow operative so he can get off, she’ll do it without remorse.

It didn’t happen just once, either.

Vanth’s just one of the many people I would’ve loved to put shotgun shells in, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget her cruelty.

Even before the first incident happened, Vanth had always been ruthless. Mag would scold me for calling her a bitch. She said that Vanth is just a product of her upbringing, made worse by the program. And yet, Mag isn’t capable of that kind of shit. Fuck, that’s the damn reason why she was designated as the medic. She’d rather keep us alive than shoot at anyone.

Vanth was different. 

If there’s anything worse than Vanth’s complacency, it was her enthusiasm in inflicting all that hurt on other people. Her cruelty comes from the hatred those responsible for the indoctrination instilled in us: hatred for the insubordinate, hatred for the Reds, hatred for anyone who doesn’t bow to the will of the United States of America and its thirteen commonwealths, and hatred for anyone different. She took all that crap and fucking internalized it.

She hated the protestors for making a mockery of the government. She hated her fellow operatives for failing where she succeeded. She hated Mag. She hated me.

That snake-eyed blonde bitch enjoyed hurting us.

Sometimes, I imagine what life would have been like if I had been as complacent and obedient as Vanth was, if Magwayen didn’t plant ideas that contradict our conditioning in my head, and if Percy didn’t come 200 years later to help me break free from the contract.

I imagine what kind of man, if I can call myself that, I would be if I didn’t have remorse, or if I didn’t have my moral code that I kept to myself, until this woman crawled out of her hole in the ground and appealed to my better nature.

I decided that I do not like that version of me.

All this time, Percy was waiting for my answer patiently, her hands folded under her chin, while she lies on top of me. I can feel her warmth and softness of her body, then I remember Ahzrukhal’s threat to her. I remember the Talon Merc’s orders.

Something dark stirs my decrepit brain.

If they had given me the order, and I had been that man who has no remorse, I would have been like Vanth.

I would have been like Stevie.

A rapist.

Percy’s rapist.

Fucking hell. That’s just sick.

Gently, I push my partner off me and sit up. I turn away from her, ashamed of the thoughts I’ve had. Her words in the hotel room in Rivet City echoes back. The fact that these thoughts disturb me and I feel disgusted at the thought of forcing myself on anyone should reassure me.

I should feel reassured that I am not like Vanth.

But I still feel like shit.

Percy wouldn’t push me to answer if I didn’t want to, I know, but given the circumstances, with Eulogy Jones exposing my past, Percy learning about my fellow operatives, and now me blurting my rapist’s name in my sleep because of a nightmare… I’m willing to pick at the scabs and the leftover bandages off of the goddamn wound.

Maybe this time, it’ll have a chance to heal properly.

“Vanth to me is what Stevie was to you.”

My throat felt dry as I confessed that. Percy seemed stunned. She didn’t say a word or move an inch, probably waiting for me to continue talking, or just taken aback by my admission.

“May 5, 2077. It was my eighteenth birthday… and our contract holder then thought that a nice fuck from my teammate would be a great birthday gift. I couldn’t get any enjoyment out of it even if my body did. I didn’t want it. But I couldn’t say no.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy whispers.

“It was centuries ago. She’s just one of many.”

“That doesn’t make it any right.”

“I know. I was afraid I’d turn out like her.”

I can hear Percy gasp in realization. “So that explains your reaction in the hotel… and how you managed to resist the Talon Merc’s orders. I’m sorry Charon. Had I known where you were coming from when we had that talk, I shouldn’t have made it all about myself.”

“Don’t apologize. I wasn’t ready to talk about it then, anyway. If you didn’t talk to me about what happened to you that night, I wouldn’t be anywhere near confronting my own problems now.”

“Okay. You were also saying my name, while you were dreaming. Big guy, what did you dream of?”

I inhaled deeply.

“I dreamed that she killed you, just as she killed Mag on the day the bombs fell, and I was underneath her again. You… you get the picture.”

Silence.

Gingerly, her fingers pressed against my sides, and she leans over, the contact feeling like a request for permission and a comforting touch at the same time. I held her hands and wrapped her arms around my chest, or at least, what their length permits. Her soft cheek against the side of my neck, the muscles and veins underneath exposed, she whispered where my ear would’ve been.

“Do you want to continue talking, or should I just hold you?”

Heartbeat hammering, my hand wanders to hers, dwarfing it, and I give it a squeeze.

“Hold me.”

“Let’s get to bed so I can do that properly, then.”

She leads me by the hand up to our bedroom, where I lie on our bed, still facing the door out of habit. Percy presses the back of my head against her chest, and she rubs little circles on my shoulder. This won’t go away overnight, but at that moment, I felt safe.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” I tell her.

“Pfft. If you were someone else, I’d have pushed you off the bed for calling me that.”

Percy drapes her arm over me, and I fall asleep listening to her heartbeat.

I didn’t have any more nightmares.

When I woke up hours later, she wasn’t beside me anymore.

Percy’s voice was muffled as she spoke to someone downstairs. I threw on proper clothes, and went down the steps.

“Percy, next time, I’d appreciate a heads up when y’all are plotting something in this town.”

“Are we in trouble, sheriff?” Percy asks.

“Let’s discuss that when you get to the saloon. See you there.”

Lucas Simms  was outside our doorstep, tipping his hat at her. Percy nods at him and closes the door.

“What did the sheriff say?”

“He needs to speak to us in the saloon. Something about the town’s security. This must be about what the slavers did to Doc Church while we were gone… Jesus what have I done?”

“Is the old man alive?”

“He is, thank God. But he’s not fine. Sheriff Simms said that it would be better if I see for myself.”

I nodded grimly. It must be bad.

“Let’s get ready. I need to pick up Dogmeat and get more winter clothes from Moira after that, too.”

Percy threw on a black shirt, then her Vault suit, followed by her jacket. She put on the cap she wore on the day I met her, grabbed her scarf on the way out, and I followed her out the house.

The tenseness came back to her shoulders. I squeezed her hand to reassure her, and she didn’t let it go.

The door to Gob’s Saloon swung open, and Dogmeat ran over to lick Percy’s face, Gob running after him. DeLoria was also there, with a few people from the Abolitionists, and Paladin Cross. Then, we were met by the townsfolk, whooping and cheering.

What the hell?

“I got you good!” Sheriff Simms exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Y'all really think we wouldn’t celebrate when a citizen of Megaton was responsible for bringing down Paradise Falls? The day you went through the gates, I knew I had a good feeling about you, girl!”

Percy’s standing stiff as a pole, eyes wide. “B-but Doc Church, and the slavers coming here and-”

“They can’t put me down that easily.” Doc Church’s voice. The old man comes into view, in crutches, one of his legs in bandages.

Percy gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. “God, Doc what have they done to your leg?”

“They mangled the hell out of my leg but the Sheriff managed to chase ‘em off before they could do anything else. Oh, don’t cry you big baby, I knew the risk when I decided to help you.”

The tenseness in Percy’s shoulders were replaced by shudders from her sobbing.

“I figured the town could use more vigilance ever since that Burke character turned up planning to blow us up. He might’ve ended up killing me if you weren’t a fast shot, too. Now, don’t you cry Percy, dear girl, you’ve done us some good again,” Simms reassures her, patting her back like a father comforting a child.

Nova comes over and pulls Percy to a corner, where she sits with Moira. Butch saunters over and before I can watch the awkwardness that followed, Simms walks over to me.

“And I suppose I owe you my thanks, too,” Simms said, extending his hand. “You’ve been a good friend to Percy. And any friend of hers is a friend of this town. Consider yourself a Megaton citizen too, Charon.”

I gave it a firm and quick shake. The sheriff didn’t recoil in disgust, and just tipped his hat afterwards.

“You kids have some fun. I can’t abandon my duties as sheriff, now.”

“Oh, c’mon Simms! Just one drink!” one of the patrons yell.

I can’t say that I feel overwhelmed by the crowd; I’ve been a bouncer in the Ninth Circle after all. I knew how rowdy people can get when they’re shitfaced. I’ve stopped brawls before. I’ve endured the obnoxious laughter and yelling.

But as I watched my partner surrounded by her friends and being celebrated by strangers from my corner, the gravity of our differences finally sank in.

Usually, when people see me, their first instinct is to stay clear, and regard me with fear or disgust. Sometimes both. When people see Percy, unless they’re raiders or slavers, they greet her, run to her for help, or check her out. Damn, I think that Bittercup kid from Big Town managed to do it all in that order.

Percy really is doing her best to do good. Half of the time, I don’t even know where she can find the motivation to stay that way in this shitsack of a world. Me? I’m just a broken old ghoul who had committed crimes that would send me straight to hell.

She told me that she’s just about to turn twenty the next month. Still so damn young to be shouldering this much responsibility, and yet here she was, organizing people to target slaver rings and doing her part in bringing clean water to the wasteland. On the other hand, I’m past two hundred, and I’m not sure how long I have before I become one of the mindless ferals.

My partner is burning bright, while my fire is slowly dying out.

The worst part is, I want her more than ever.

I shouldn’t be with her. She should be with pretty young smoothskins too.

Looks like I might have to turn her down, if she finally decides to stop waiting.

Percy has no future with me.

My train of thought was interrupted by Gob.

“Hey! Hey, everyone shut up for a moment. The news is on!”

He turned the radio’s volume up, and Three Dog’s voice flooded the room. Everyone went silent.

“News time, children!

Those scumbag Slavers way over in Paradise Falls had one big ole bee on their bonnet, and this baby knew how to sting. Gasp! But what's this? There’s not just one bee, but an entire goddamn colony, and their queen looked suspiciously like a certain kid, from a certain vault. You heard it here first, faithful listeners. The Wanderer showed up with a small army at slaver central and bad guys started dropping left and right. Reports say that among the people present are the Abolitionists Miss 101 herself assisted a few months back, a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, and of course, her trusty Ghoul Reaper. And to top it all off, they gave us one hell of a pyrotechnics show when they fucking blew that place up to smithereens. Holy shit! Slavers of the Capital Wasteland, consider this the big ‘fuck you’ you've had coming since starting this scurrilous skin trade. What an amazing way to start the year!

What’s next? Is the Wasteland Avenger gonna give the Wasteland clean, fresh water too? Oh wait, she’s already working on that! Good job, kid! Just don’t burn yourself out, for chrissake. Keep fighting the Good Fight! The Wasteland is rootin’ for ya!

This is Galaxy News Radio and-”

“Hey! They didn’t mention me!” DeLoria cuts in, and laughter breaks out.

“If he starts calling me ‘Queen Bee’, I’m knocking his door down and stealing his headwrap. I’ve got enough embarrassing epithets already,” Percy sighs, downing a shot of scotch. Then, she turns, eyes searching, and her eyes land on me.

“Big guy! C’mon, sit next to me,” she calls out, and I obliged. Gob slides me a beer.

“It’s on the house. Consider it as thanks for getting back at those scumbag slavers for us.”

I nod and down half the bottle in a gulp.

Yeah, damn it all, I’ll celebrate, why the fuck not.

“Oh, it’s great that I finally caught you two here in Megaton!” Moira exclaims, striding towards us with a box in her hands. Goddamn. And I thought I was going to have a good night. This is the weirdo that made Percy drink atom bomb water.

“Now, I know you probably experienced it before,” she said, motioning to me after setting the box on the table. “But this is Percy’s first winter out here in the Wasteland! Here, as a show of my appreciation for getting rid of those mean slavers, I got you two some warm clothes!”

“Wow, it’s like you read my mind! Thank you so much for these, Moira.”

“No problem! Maybe we could work on a winter survival guide next?”

Panicked, I shake my head and Percy laughs.

“I think I’m going to take a break from experiments for now, Moira.”

“Oh? What’re you up to?”

“We’re gonna bring clean water to the Wasteland.”

[hippriestess]

Part 4 - I’ve Been Duped...

It was to be expected that some of those who brought us some of the less essential Fall releases would also respond to Smith's death. One of worst was the first to arrive and it came from perennial recyclers Secret Records; a repackaging of 10 live tracks from the 2002 “A Touch Sensitive” DVD – already reconfigured multiple times – on an LP titled, and this absolutely beggars belief, “Best Of” and credited to “The Fall & Mark E Smith”, a credit never once used on a release in Smith's lifetime (a few gig posters, yes but never a record). Released just 3 months after Smith's death for about £18-20, this received the derision it deserved and, judging from the number of copies for sale on Discogs and their current asking prices, it appears to have sold just a little more than fuck all.

But even this was overshadowed come March 2019 when Ozit/Dandelion released what has to be The Worst Fall Release Ever. Pressed into horrid orange vinyl, the contents of “Mark's Personal Holiday Tony Tapes” were staggeringly poor. Proudly labelled as “Non-Record-Store-Day Release” (was it turned down?) the record boasted just 8 tracks. The album tried to elide its rotten contents by calling all the tracks “Mark's Personal Holiday Tony Tapes”. Track 1 was a 6 minute version of “Last Nacht” from “I Am Kurious Oranj”. The released track doesn't actually feature within the 6 minutes so this is probably an outtake and therefore probably not owned by Beggars Banquet. There is a drop out lasting several seconds that has gone uncorrected and it's about 4 minutes longer than it needs to be, confirming the brevity of the version used in 1988 to be bob on. Tracks 2, 4, 6 and 8 are live tracks from 1981, all of which had already been released on the otherwise unimpressive “Northern Cream” DVD. What is barely credible is that tracks 3, 5 and 7 are also “Last Nacht” but not further alternates, rather being Track 1 cut into 2 minute pieces and simply repeated! Did they think we wouldn't notice?! Utterly awful, thoroughly exploitative and an absolute disgrace. They also stumped up a 30 minute DVD of MES being interviewed. This bore the thoroughly unappealing title “30 Minutes On A Manchester Slag Heap”. I only ever saw this for sale on eBay but a couple of clicks confirmed that it was Ozit/Dandelion product being sold by them through that channel. The cover was of a slag heap rather than of MES. Enough said.

OK, let's tidy up, what's next?

The immediate future sees 2 vinyl releases in the August “drop” of the now-staggered, socially-distanced RSD2020; a double LP of “[Austurbæjarbíó] - Reykjavík Live 1983” on the now inevitable splatter vinyl and a single LP of  “Cerebral Caustic” on multi-coloured “bonkers” (their word, absofuckinglutely not mine) splatter vinyl because of course it is. That's all for RSD this year, a move which represents far better judgement by the organisers. A studio album out of print on vinyl for 25 years and a properly sought after live release on the format for the first time? Yeah, that fits well with what RSD was meant to be back when we all queued up for a “Bury Pts 2 + 4” 7” in 2010.

Now, a fun wee question mark was raised over “CC” when the RSD website credited the release to Demon rather than Cherry Red. It appears Demon have the Permanent Records catalogue and have also announced clear vinyl reissues of “The Infotainment Scan”, “Middle Class Revolt”, “The Twenty-Seven Points” and, perhaps most interestingly, “The Post Nearly Man”, all on clear vinyl with expanded artwork from Pascal LeGras. It looks as though these are coming in under the £20 mark (£25 for T27P) and I reckon they'll be popular – I fancy nabbing MCR and TPNM myself. A bit of a downer that all of these, except, oddly, “The Post Nearly Man” were recently rescheduled from September 2020 to January 2021 but hey ho – probably Covid-related, much like everything else.

As for Cherry Red, whilst one report had it that “Are You Are Missing Winner” was next, they are finally releasing a 3CD/2LP edition of “Imperial Wax Solvent” in October. This includes the much-discussed original mix by Grant Showbiz and a previously unavailable live set from shortly after the album's original release. This is, basically, exactly what we wanted. Hurrah! Can't wait.

Thanks to the speculation re: AYAMW, there was a little disappointment in come quarters and I can certainly see a healthy audience for a straight single LP pressing of that as it was only ever available on a picture disc vinyl before. Here's hoping they won't go for a double splatter vinyl with unnecessary extras (“Where's The Fuckin' Taxi? Cunt” on vinyl? Come on, SPARE US).  

To yr present authors surprise, an expanded edition of “The Frenz Experiment” was announced for release by Beggars Banquet/Arkive in October. I had reckoned a new vinyl edition was likely as it was the only studio album on BB not yet afforded a new pressing and the addition of a second LP with various singles tracks was no surprise either, given that there are similar packages available for “TWAFW”, “TNSG” and “Bend Sinister”. A very pleasant surprise however is the inclusion of the group's Janice Long session from 1987, their only unreleased Radio 1 session. Also, “A Day In The Life” has been licenced for the this also (it was the only studio recording from the era missing from “5 Albums”). The Long session and “...Life” are only on the CD version. As such, this release very much follows the pattern of the “Bend Sinister” reissue from 2018 and is likely inspired by the near ecstatic reception and healthy sales that release enjoyed. Nice that the CD edition is £12 this time, having been more like £22 for “Bend Sinister”.

Let Them Eat Vinyl are responsible for the illustration...they are planning an almost ludicrous onslaught of Fall vinyl. Their website currently lists an almost unbelievable THIRTY ONE Fall LP releases for the three months running September to November. Thirty-one. Now – this includes “Interim” which is already on the shelves but it also includes the “Live From The Vaults” releases. It was assumed from the inclusion of two of these on Cherry Red's “Dragnet” 3CD box that these were part of the Fall Sound Archive deal that MES cut with CR in the years before his death which makes this a bit interesting. Also, LTEV are also claiming they will release “The Post-Nearly Man” on vinyl in October, which clashes with Demon's schedule – they originally had Smith and The Fall's albums for Permanent Records releases slated for reissue in September but all except TPNM have been moved. Meanwhile, “Cog Sinister” are about to release TPNM on CD! After being unavailable and highly prized for 2 decades, we're now set for 3 separate reissues within 2 months!  Anyway, the vast majority of the remaining LTEV are discs from the 2 “sets of ten (really eleven)” although also included are the excellent “I Am Pure As Oranj” and the first vinyl edition of “The Light User Syndrome” since its original release in 1996. Caveat Emptor, as the saying goes.

Narnack are also hinting that a 3LP “Fall Heads Roll” isn't too far off. Having teased this for a couple of years, Early in 2020, it was announced that the label was folding. This announcement was deleted and Narnack immediately moved on to asking fans to suggest what additional material could be added to this new version. Never one of their best, there would have to be some impressive outtakes to persuade yr persent scribe to cough up.  

Elsewhere, Phonogram have yet to succumb to new vinyl pressings of their albums, despite the prices fetched on the collectors market for these, especially “Code-Selfish”. This may be partly due to what seems to have been a relatively low take-up for their 6CD box set from 2017. Titled “The Fontana Years”, this was just the 2CD editions of the three albums from 2007 in a box. It therefore looked weak next to the “Singles 1978-2016” box set as well as providing nothing attractive to the faithful who already had them. It hit the shelves at £35-40 a time and, unsurprisingly, remained there and can now be scored for around £20.

The much requested expansion of “The Real New Fall LP” with the original, very different mix of the album has yet to appear. At last count, contractual wrangles between the UK and US were said to be in the way but who knows? If “Levitate” can reappear, surely this can too.

Of course, we never know what else the less-salubrious end of the market will have for us but we shall approach with due caution.

The cold reality: what we get now is all there is. Mark E Smith now exists for Fall fans on paper, on magnetic tape, on vinyl and in combinations of 0 and 1. A sad fact. But it is clear that the appetite for The Fall is, if anything, increasing. Hindsight is presenting The Fall in a particularly clear light. In such a stylised, filtered and carefully marketed world, full of covert strategies and manipulative messaging, The Fall are reassuringly flawed, human, real. Their jagged edges, their constant state of flux, their DIY presentation and their disinterest in convention draws in the curious. The quantity of music suits an insatiable, want-it-all-and-now culture and, having made their albums for the vinyl format as well as bringing us so many magnificent 3-4 minute singles, their music is almost perfectly suited to today's market place where vinyl albums mix with song-by-song streams. People who love to write about music always loved The Fall and it seems that this is every bit as true today as it was in the days when we never had to wait any more than a few months for a missive of some sort, be it an album, a single, a Peel session or even just an entertaining interview.

Given that The Beatles – the most lauded rock/pop act of all time - have finally reached a generation to whom their blithe optimism means absolutely nothing, it is impossible to say how anything in music will be regarded 20 years from now. But for now, at least, The Fall endure. Their vibrations remain intense and powerful. And we, the people, dance to the waves.

Nine out of ten? Nah. Ten out of ten. Top marks. 

[llaevateinn]

Lan Xichen sees someting in Jin Rusong that is very familiar to him. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

The birth of Jin Guangyao's son not even a year after his marriage to Qin Su was celebrated, as much as it caused whispered discussions. Some said that he only took her as wife because she was already pregnant before their betrothal. Some lauded that he took responsibility. Most didn't care and simply showed up for the baby's one-month feast. An excuse to drink too much and eat at the expense of LanlingJin sect.

"What is his name?" Lan Xichen asked, carefully bending over the sleeping child nestled in Qin Su's arms. The mother looked radiant, beaming with love and happiness. Next to her, Lan Xichen's sworn brother also shone with pride.

"Rusong," answered Qin Su.

"A good, strong name."

"Do you wish to hold him?" asked Jin Guangyao.

Lan Xichen could see Qin Su bristle a little, so he was about to refuse. After all, the child was still so young and clearly his mother loved him so very much. But then, to his surprise, Qin Su offered him up anyway. Touched by this show of trust, he held the sleeping baby in the crook of his arm, feeling its weight and warmth.

"You are good with children," said Qin Su.

"A-Su is right. Er-ge, you should also marry and have children soon, it suits you."

Lan Xichen only chuckled and shook his head, gazing at Rusong in his arms instead of replying. In his sleep, the boy drooled a little. Wiping some of it with his sleeve despite Qin Su's protests, he reached into his robes to take out a small piece of jade.

"This is my gift to you, little Rusong," he whispered to the child. "For luck and protection."

He tucked the carved jade into the soft cloth that Rusong was wrapped in, near his body where it could absorb some of his body's warmth.

"Thank you, on his behalf. It is a lovely gift."

Rusong slept on, unaware of the world around him or the troubles ahead. Around him, the adults kept talking, laughing, feeling the warmth of new life and new hope. War was behind them. Now was the time for children to be born and love to bloom.

*

Three years later, their hopes and dreams had not all come to fruition. More loss and grief had caused them to lose families and loved ones, including Jin Zixuan. Due to this, it was now Jin Guangyao who stood to inherit the LanlingJin sect upon their father's passing. Not all were happy with this development, but such were things.

In order to show his support, Lan Xichen often visited Koi Tower to see his sworn brother and his young family. He and Qin Su became very close as well, and he loved to watch as Rusong grew up.

After all that happened, Rusong had also gained a new playmate, though often his cousin Rulan stayed at Lotus Pier with his uncle instead of here. Still, the two boys clearly held affection for each other. Whenever Rulan came to visit Koi Tower, Rusong would wait on the stairs to be the first to spot him coming.

However, on this day, there was a great storm. Surely, Sect Leader Jiang would keep little Rulan with him for one more day instead of sending him out like this. But Rusong insisted to wait on top of the stairs no matter what. When prompted to leave and wait inside, he threw such a tantrum that he was unable to speak anymore.

"Please, A-Song," Qin Su tried to coax him, holding the shaking and screaming boy around the waist so he would not fall. "It is far too cold and wet outside – you will get sick if you stay much longer."

But Rusong could not be reasoned with.

"A-Ling," he cried, breathless and red in the face. "A-Ling!"

Lan Xichen happened upon this scene, feeling his heart break a little for the sweet boy. He was reminded of a similar incident, long ago. In Rusong's place he saw a little boy his age, but in white robes and a white forehead ribbon that fluttered in the cold winter wind as he knelt on the stairs of a house that would forever remain empty.

"Madam Jin," he said softly, approaching the distraught mother and son. "May I?"

Tired, Qin Su shifted to the side, letting Lan Xichen kneel behind Rusong. He replaced her hands around the boy's waist, pulling him gently into his lap.

"A-Song," he muttered quietly. "Would you like it if I waited with you for A-Ling? I will keep you warm, so you don't get sick. And I'll shelter you, in case the rain reaches us. Then your mother can go rest, and your parents won't have to worry about you."

Rusong whined and struggled a little, but when he felt the soft warmth of three layers of white cloth close around him in a cocoon of safety, he settled down. Then, he nodded.

"Thank you." Turning his head to look at Qin Su, Lan Xichen smiled. "Do not worry about Rusong now. I will take care of him."

"This- …" Qin Su bit her lip. "I cannot ask this of you, Zewu-Jun. I'm afraid he will insist on waiting all night."

"I will wait until he falls asleep. Then I will have him brought to you."

"Oh." Qin Su looked at her son. Only his head peeked out from Lan Xichen's robes. He was already visibly exhausted from his earlier crying and kicking. Now that he was wrapped up warmly, his eyes were drooping.

Seeing this, Qin Su thanked him quietly, wiping away her own desperate tears. She excused herself, to rest a little herself, leaving Lan Xichen and Rusong alone, sitting on the stairs.

He thought it was very peaceful, with the boy's familiar warmth nestled to his chest as they listened to the rain and thunder overhead. It did not take long for a little head to lean heavily against his sternum. Lan Xichen huffed affectionately, shifting the boy's weight in his arms so he could carry him more easily.

As he helped his mother tuck him into bed, Lan Xichen thought with a full heart how much Wangji might love to meet this little boy, who was so much like he was. He could even bring along his own son to play with Rusong, and they could all become friends.

*

Qin Su and Jin Guangyao both loved their son very much. It was evident in every interaction they had with the sweet boy, who was growing up fast. Almost five years old, he would be starting training soon to become a cultivator. In a few years he might develop his golden core.

But when Lan Xichen mentioned this to his sworn brother, Jin Guangyao hesitated visibly.

"I don't know if he is ready for it," he said vaguely, smiling all the while.

"You are only worried, as his parent," Lan Xichen waved his words away. "The pressure is higher for you than it is for him. As long as you let him learn at his own pace, everything will be fine."

But he could see that his sworn brother was not yet convinced.

The next time Lan Xichen visited, he brought a guest with him. He introduced him to Rusong, who was sitting on the ground and tugging at the grass in the gardens. Qin Su knelt next to him, clearly desperately trying to get him to stop, yet unable to do so. There were already lines of frustration evident both in the lines of her shoulders and on Rusong's brow.

"Rusong," Lan Xichen said. "I want you to meet someone very special to me. This is my little brother, Lan Wangji."

Rusong only stared. Wangji stared right back, until Rusong squirmed and looked away, starting to tear out more grass. Nobody said anything, watching in strange apprehension – except for Lan Xichen, who smiled – as Lan Wangji sat next to Rusong in the grass, gesturing for Qin Su to let him continue. Clearly put-upon, Qin Su rose to her feet and brushed off her skirts. She joined everyone else in watching, her arms crossed.

After a while, Rusong stopped tearing out more grass. He snuck a quick glance at Lan Wangji before gathering all the harvested grass in his arms and taking it to a nearby pond. On the water, there were a couple of ducks. As soon as he approached, they started quacking loudly, swimming closer.

"He is feeding the ducks?" Qin Su said loudly, watching with wide eyes as Rusong threw the grass in the water for the ducks to snap up. "But I asked him why he was doing that, and he wouldn't answer. I thought he was sulking."

Now they all watched as Lan Wangji drew a pouch of seeds from his sleeve to join Rusong in feeding the ducks. Neither of them ever said a word, but to everyone it was evident that they both enjoyed each other's company.

Later, Lan Xichen drew his sworn brother aside to speak to him about Rusong's education.

"There are different ways how a child like Rusong may express the ways in which he is special," he explained. "It requires a different sort of schooling than what most teachers are experienced with. But he is not the only one. In fact, behavior like his quite frequently emerges in members of the Lan family. If you wish, he could be educated in the Cloud Recesses, where he can be given the proper care and time he needs."

Jin Guangyao looked thoughtful at this, if not a little apprehensive. Of course, any father would be unwilling to part with his son at such a young age. Lan Xichen could see that he was reluctant – clearly, an expression of his great love for Rusong. Though he smiled and said he was going to think about it, Lan Xichen sadly thought that he wasn't going to take the offer.

On their way back home, Wangji said: "Will we take the boy?"

"His parents love him very much. I don't know if they are willing to have him stay with us to be educated, even though it might be best. I don't know if Rusong would be willing to leave his home, either."

"I would take him," said Wangji.

Lan Xichen smiled.

"I know you would. You like him, don't you? He is a sweet boy. He might get along well with Sizhui, too. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Mm."

*

"This is just temporary," Jin Guangyao said, looking haggard and torn. This was as nervous as Lan Xichen had ever seen him, so he poured them some more tea.

"I understand."

"Just to see how he would fit in. If he might like it here. I apologize for the inconvenience, er-ge."

"It is no trouble at all."

With a sigh, Jin Guangyao smiled again, inhaling the vapor rising from the tea.

Outside, Lan Xichen knew, were Rusong and Sizhui, getting acquainted for the first time. The two were not too far apart in age, though Sizhui was a little older. This was very suitable, as they intended for Sizhui to help them guide Rusong and introduce him to the Cloud Recesses and the classes he would be attending here. Lan Xichen was very confident that the two boys would soon become fast friends. Already, there was laughter to be heard, and he could see that Jin Guangyao also relaxed at this.

Apparently, Rusong had not taken well to classes in Koi Tower. He and the teachers had clashed often, and the teachers had declared him unteachable. There were even worse, less honorable words thrown around that Lan Xichen did not care for.

He made his offer again, asking whether Rusong might want to stay in the Cloud Recesses. This time, Jin Guangyao said yes immediately.

"We will take very good care of him," he promised. "Just you see, we will carefully polish and nurture his talents."

"But they said- …" Jin Guangyao hesitated. There was pain his eyes, staining his unsmiling mouth.

"It doesn't matter what they said. Your boy is kind and strong. He is going to be able to help a lot of people in the future."

"Thank you. Er-ge, thank you, so much. You don't know how- …" He paused, dabbing at his eyes. "If it weren't for you, I don't know what I would have done."

"I am sure you would have found a way," Lan Xichen said consolingly, patting his sworn brother's arm. "I know how much you love your son."

"Yes. Yes, of course."

They finished drinking their tea, listening to Sizhui's giggling outside as he played with Rusong. Just as predicted, they had taken an immediate liking to each other. Lan Xichen smiled, content with his work well done.

[plaidshirtjimkirk]

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” for Chahura if inspiration strikes.

Pairing: ChahuraSeries: Star Trek TOSRating: MSummary: Two things are certain for Christine Chapel: Starfleet is a bureaucracy and Nyota is simply gorgeous. [AO3]

.*Universal Constant*.

Christine wasn’t sure what boggled her mind more: the expanse of the Alpha Quadrant alone, or that Starfleet could secure a runner-up position for most bureaucratic organization this side of Antares. It was a staggering achievement, given the vast amount of fascinating politics (to put it politely) in the proverbial starry seas.

That wasn’t to say she was a woman of anarchist philosophy, though—no; standards and regulations, rules and directives were of sure necessity where the complexities of space exploration were concerned. The calling of these formal social parties in luxurious locations, however…well, that was a different story.

Red Tape Events were how they’d been described by anyone without their backside weighing down a chair in San Francisco. In theory, a starship captain always wanted to receive an invitation to one, because it meant their crew’s valiant efforts were recognized by the top brass—and standing out as an individual from the entire fleet was no minor triumph. On the other hand, there were very few captains who relished the reality of actually attending, and those who did simply weren’t in the know of the grander implications.

Opulent scenery, alluring music, rivers of liquor: entertainment and good times to be had abound, and all under the watchful eye of executives just looking for either mistakes or recruits for operations…or both. Blackmail was a hell of a compelling thing, after all. It was a conundrum, hosting an affair to laud best behavior so the very same honorees could be scrutinized and coerced down different paths because Admiral So-and-So needs a new Title-of-the-Week. Absurd.

In any case, Andorian champagne was similar to its pale ale cousin, just with more effervescence and sparkle as one might imagine. Her half-filled glass cradled by graceful long fingers, Christine glanced around the venue, taking in the view of crew mates outfitted as much to the nines as she, herself, was.

Flowing dresses, stark tuxedos, the best of both worlds captured in vest tops blended down into cascading ruffled skirts, and a whole array of formal attire in between filled the space with color and vibrancy, while individuals from all walks of life cavorted about each other and their ever-observant brazen overlords.

She’d already made her rounds tonight, served her time. The rest was up to the good graces of the captain and first officer, and not to mention one very grumpy Chief Medical Officer who was expertly hiding his annoyance over a tumbler of Saurian brandy on the rocks.

Unable to keep the smile from hinting at the corners of her lips, Christine let her gaze drift through the hazy pearl lighting, slowly taking in the sight of the people she’d grown so close to over the last four years.

There were Hikaru and Pavel in their stylishly coordinated suits, side-by-side as ever and brushing arms while they laughed softly through quiet conversation. And Scotty, who was putting on just as impressive a show as McCoy for someone who would damn definitely rather be holed up in a Jefferies tube than having his ear talked off by Admiral Nogura—the poor man. Naturally, Janice was flawless as ever in a coral dress of twining silk and lace, set off by another extravagant updo.

And then…there was her. And not for the first time, Christine’s heart pounded its ribbed prison a little harder.

As expected, Nyota was surrounded by others, conversing and her face alight with joy while her company chortled in kind. She was in her element, a star in her own right as birth name suggested, and looked downright stunning amid the dewy atmosphere of the hall.

Their eyes met then and one of Nyota’s fell in a slow, flirtatious wink while her lips pursed. Christine exhaled through her nose, and with a small shake of the head, couldn’t fight the grin which pulled outward to her cheeks—or the blush, for that matter.

Two could play this game, of course, so she broke visual contact with a graceful turn and floated toward the open balcony doors, as light as the sash curtains framing them.

~

Moonlight spilled silver over an ivory stone floor—nothing short of storybook glamor, and complete with a faint scent of jasmine permeating the air.

With her elbows braced against the balcony ledge, Christine’s fingers entwined lazily together over the side as she took in the view of a rolling valley that stretched to the glittering horizon. And when the familiar pointed taps of stilettos informed her of approaching companionship, she tried to maintain the hard-to-get facade to no success.

Who could resist the presence of a living, breathing goddess, after all?

The mauve dress danced with elegance about Nyota’s curves as she closed in slowly, her eyes half lidded as Christine straightened her spine and pivoted to receive her.

“Nurse Chapel,” Nyota purred with a regal tilt of her face. She reached out to Christine’s forearm and took gentle hold, the pads of her fingers massaging in small back-and-forth motions. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Funny, how this woman could steal the very words from her mouth before they even had a chance at leaving her tongue. Christine covered Nyota’s hand with her own, her digits folding in and coaxing it free; she brought it to her lips. “Lieutenant Uhura,” she replied with the same level of sensuality before bestowing a kiss there, “It takes one to know one, wouldn’t you say?”

A soft chuckle fell from Nyota and her eyes fell closed with an exhale. “What’s with all this flattery?”

“Flattery nothing. You’re stunning, Nyota,” Christine insisted without pulling her attention from her girlfriend’s ravishing features. “I thought for sure you’d choose the tux tonight, but this dress…” A soft hum followed. “It was definitely the right decision.”

“Let’s just say I was dressing to impress someone,” Nyota began matter-of-factly, and after a beat added, “…and we’ll leave it at that.”

“They’re very impressed, I promise.” Before releasing the hand she still held, Christine peered down to admire the intricacy of nail art adorning the tips. “These are so pretty. Did you put them on after I left to meet Leonard? I like him just fine but I still wish we could’ve arrived together.”

“Mm, that’s right.” Nyota lifted her pointer finger in the air and beckoned Christine closer. “And what’s more, let me tell you a secret.”

She leaned forward—felt Nyota stroke a lock of curled hair behind her ear before breath feathered lightly over her sensitive skin with a whisper. “They’re coming off again tonight.”

Blinking, Christine went to pull back and meet her gaze, but not before Nyota placed a small kiss to her cheek. “Just a little FYI, Nurse Chapel,” she declared in an airy, sing-song voice and stepped back. “A little…something to think about, right?”

Exasperation was in the subsequent reply. “Nyota…!”

“If you’ll excuse me now, I have to get back in there to manage those admirals.” With another wink, she purred, “I’ll see you later.”

And like the breeze, she turned to resume her task, nodding gracefully at McCoy passing by her on the way.

“Nyota,” McCoy drawled with a kind smile and tip of his head. He repeated the greeting when he arrived at Christine’s shoulder. “Came out to escape the heat from inside but it’s damn warm here too.”

“I’d say…” Christine exhaled, agreeing for more than one reason. “You have to admit, there’s a lot of hot air in there for a place that’s supposedly air conditioned.”

McCoy chuckled and lifted his glass before indulging. “Amen to that.”

Oh, it was going to be a longer night than expected…

~

It was after much too many hours when they finally, finally, found themselves back in the hotel room. Christine braced herself impatiently at the edge of the bed as Nyota knelt on the mattress behind her and undid the lacy bodice ties of her dress—slowly.

“Nyota,” she uttered in a half whine, half whisper.

“Yes, Christine?”

“Could you…” A moment so she could swallow. “…hurry, please?”

Nyota dropped the ribbons and took hold of Christine’s shoulders, leaning in with mock concern. “I’m sorry, are you in a hurry for something?”

A groan came forth and Christine let her lashes fall.

“Oh, I suppose I should stop being cruel, huh?” With that, Nyota made quick work of unbinding the rest of the material. “I don’t know why everyone hates these parties so much, Chris.”

“Red tape, Nyota.” Christine stood and let the garment fall free, slipping down her body to pool at her feet.

“Yeah? And I love unraveling you from it.”

Drawing a deep inhale, Christine’s eyes widened, and with burning cheeks she turned quickly on her feet to pounce at Nyota. “Oh my gosh, shut up!”

Nyota fell back against the soft bed, her chin tilted up while she laughed heartily. Upon stopping, another huff left her as she looked into Christine’s eyes. “Make me.”

Their lips met once, twice, and remained locked until the necessity of breathing pulled them apart again. They shared those same breaths before diving right back in, hands entwined and hearts beating to the same metronome: a universal constant.

[therainshow]

I made a Taylor Swift Music Education Lesson that covers each album, in order, and my favorite songs from said album. I included bits of each album’s prologue and background information on each album, plus my personal opinions on each. I made this for some coworkers that want to learn more about Taylor, feel free to look it over and pass it on to anyone you’re trying to convert someone into a Swiftie :) There is a Spotify link for a playlist I made that has all these songs. You can find that at the bottom :)

Welcome to your Taylor Swift Music Education Lesson. Please read carefully.

 For your education and enjoyment (hopefully), I have included a detailed track-list of all the songs on your Spotify playlist. These songs appear in order of album, beginning with Fearless and ending with reputation. I did not include Taylor’s debut album in this lesson. It’s a great album, but has a heavy country influence and was written when she was 14, so it is difficult to relate to and/or isolating to those who do not appreciate country music. Within each album, there is no specific order. As I introduce a new album, I provide you with a bit of background information to give you a more thorough understanding. This background information begins with a blurb taken directly from the prologue that Taylor wrote for said album. With each track title I have included my favorite lyric from that song. You may also see some asterisks with notes scattered throughout. I couldn’t resist. The songs I chose are either a) my favorite, b) a fan favorite, c) generally iconic in nature, or c) songs I think, or hope, you will like. My favorite song off each album is indicated with multiple exclamation points. Let’s begin.

 FEARLESS: “To me, “FEARLESS” is not the absence of fear. It’s not being completely unafraid. To me, FEARLESS is having fears. FEARLESS is having doubts. Lots of them. To me, FEARLESS is living in spite of those things that scare you to death.”  Fearless is Taylor’s second album and was released in the fall of 2008 when Taylor was 18. It is actually the most highly-awarded country album of all time. Fearless won Album of the Year at the 2010 Grammy’s when Taylor was 20 years old. Taylor is the youngest person to ever win that award. There are 13 tracks on this album, and 8 were written solely by Taylor. This album cemented me as a stan, and the songs saved my life in high school. I have Fearless tattooed on my back, and I truly believe that I wouldn’t be who I am today without this album. I’d probably be dead in a gutter somewhere. Joking, but seriously, high school was rough. Thank God for Tswift.

1.      Forever & Always!!!!!!!!!!!: “It rains in your bedroom when everything’s wrong. It rains when you’re here and it rains when you’re gone.”

2.      Fifteen: “Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday, but I realized some bigger dreams of mine. And Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind, and we both cried. ‘Cause when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you they love you, you’re gonna believe them.” *Abigail was Taylor’s best friend in high school, and they’re still friends today.*

3.      Love Story: “This love is difficult, but it’s real. Don’t be afraid, we’ll make it out of this mess.” *This is Taylor’s first #1 song. It went #1 on both country and pop radio. She attributes her career to this song. She wrote the song in 20 minutes solo on her bedroom floor after an argument with her parents over a boy.*

4.      The Best Day: “I’m thirteen now and don’t know how my friends could be so mean. I come home crying and you hold me tight and grab the keys. And we drive and drive until we find a town far enough away, and we talk and window shop ‘til I’ve forgotten all their names. I don’t know who I’m gonna talk to now at school, but I know I’m laughing on the car ride home with you. Don’t know how long it’s gonna take to feel okay, but I know I had the best day with you today. *Taylor wrote this song for her mom.*

5.      Breathe: “People are people, and sometimes it doesn’t work out. Nothing we say is gonna save us from the fall-out.”

6.      Fearless: “We’re drivin’ down the road, I wonder if you know I’m tryin’ so hard not to get caught up now. But you’re just so cool running your hands through your hair, absent mindedly making me want you.”

7.      Tell Me Why: “Why do you have to make me feel small so you can feel whole inside? Why do you have to put down my dreams so you’re the only thing on my mind?”

 SPEAK NOW: “What you say might be too much for some people. Maybe it will come out all wrong and you'll stutter and you'll walk away embarrassed, wincing as you play it all back in your head. But I think the words you stop yourself from saying are the ones that will haunt you the longest. So say it to them. Or say it to yourself in the mirror. Say it in a letter you'll never send or in a book millions might read someday. I think you deserve to look back on your life without a chorus of resounding voices saying 'I could've, but it's too late now.' There is a time for silence. There is a time for waiting your turn. But if you know how you feel, and you so clearly know what you need to say, you'll know it. I don't think you should wait. I think you should speak now.” Speak Now is Taylor’s third album and was released in the fall of 2010 when Taylor was 20. There are 14 tracks, all written solely by Taylor. There are no co-writers on this record. After Taylor won AOTY for Fearless, many of her critics said that it was impossible that she carried her weight in those writing sessions. Basically, the songs on Fearless were so good that a lot of people didn’t believe that she actually wrote them. To prove them wrong, she decided to write the album entirely by herself. This album is the fan favorite, and is my second favorite. I feel like this album was way ahead of its time. Speak Now is the kind of album I’d expect a musician to write towards the end of his/her career once they stop caring about crafting the perfect song, and start making great music for the hell of it. Most of the songs on Speak Now are over 5 minutes in length with many clocking in over 6 minutes. Definitely not suited for radio. Taylor is known for painting stories in her lyrics, and I’d say Speak Now does that the best. I met Taylor during the Speak Now Era, the most lauded of eras amongst fans. To have seen the Speak Now concert is a huge deal in the Swiftie fandom. The concert was absolutely magical. If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to come over and watch the live DVD. Most of the general public knows next to nothing about Speak Now because none of the songs really charted on radio. However, Speak Now is the first of her albums to sell a million or more copies in the first week (a pattern not broken thus far. #blessed). Speak Now Era was sort of the golden age because she had proved herself to be incredibly talented and cemented her place in the music industry, and yet her PR stunts were at a minimum. Nobody hated her yet, and she kind of went back under the radar despite being at her prime. It was downhill from there, but we were all oblivious to that fact. We were just so blissed out, we couldn’t see the impending doom on the horizon. I could honestly write an entire thesis on Speak Now. Anyway, it was a strange time, indeed.

8.      Mean: “You have pointed out my flaws again, as if I don’t already see them.” *Like I said above, the songs on Speak Now were not widely popular and didn’t chart on radio, with the exception of this one. ‘Mean’ won Country Song of the Year at the Grammy’s in 2012. Taylor wrote this song as a way to cope with relentless and over the top, mean-spirited criticism from a specific music critic named Bob Lefetsz. Suck it, Bob.

9.      Mine: “But we’ve got bills to pay, we’ve got nothin’ figured out. When it was hard to take, this is what I thought about.”

10.  Last Kiss: “How you’d kiss me when I was in the middle of sayin’ something, there’s not a day I don’t miss those rude interruptions.”

11.  Haunted: “Come on, don’t leave me like this. I thought I had you figured out.”

12.  Never Grow Up: “You’re in the car on the way to the movies, and you’re mortified your mom’s droppin’ you off. At fourteen there’s just so much you can’t do, and you can’t wait to move out someday and call your own shots. But don’t make her drop you off around the block, remember that she’s getting older too.” *Taylor wrote this the night she moved out of her parent’s house and into her first apartment in Nashville.*

13.  Sparks Fly: “You’re the kind of reckless that should send me runnin’, but I kinda know that I won’t get far.” *Taylor first performed this song back in 2006 at a random live show when she first started out. Fans recorded it and it went viral. For years fans begged her to record it for an album. She did! Thank you, Taylor! We are #blessed.*

14.  Enchanted!!!!!!!!!!!!: “The playful conversation starts, counter all your quick remarks like passing notes in secrecy.”

15.  Back to December: “It turns out freedom ain’t nothin’ but missin’ you.”

 RED: “My experiences in love have taught me difficult lessons, especially my experiences with crazy love. The red relationships. The ones that went from zero to a hundred miles per hour and then hit a wall and exploded. And it was awful. And ridiculous. And desperate. And thrilling. And when the dust settled, it was something I’d never take back. Because there is something to be said for being young and needing someone so badly, you jump in head first without looking. And there’s something to be learned from waiting all day for a train that’s never coming. And there’s something to be proud of about moving on and realizing that real love shines golden like starlight, and doesn’t fade or spontaneously combust. Maybe I’ll write a whole album about that kind of love if I ever find it. But this album is about the other kinds of love that I’ve recently fallen in and out of. Love that was treacherous, sad, beautiful, and tragic. But most of all, this record is about love that was red.” Oh, Red. I have so many thoughts about you. For starters, Red is Taylor’s fourth album and was released in the fall of 2012. Red is comprised of 16 tracks. Like I said previously, the Speak Now Era was such an incredible time, and Swifties didn’t want to let it go. We didn’t want things to change. I think the Red Era is the only era that Swifties didn’t welcome with open arms. We just didn’t know how to feel, and were afraid of things changing. But Taylor was headed in a more pop direction, and we could all sense it. Of course, Taylor had always been pop, or country pop, but that’s neither here nor there… And so, Red was Taylor’s “pop” debut, because she wrote three songs with pop hitmakers Max Martin and Yohan Shellback. But, it was also her rock debut if you ask me. Red was like a patchwork quilt of music: differently styles, production types, collaborators, producers. Taylor was trying new things and flapping her wings. And it worked. At first, I was hesitant to leave Speak Now behind, but Red quickly became my favorite album and still is. Taylor’s best songs are on Red. That is unanimously agreed upon in the fandom and throughout. Red is Taylor’s crown jewel, her zenith. Unfortunately, Taylor suffered a lot of hate and backlash for her dating life during 2012 and 2013, and that really clouded the success of Red. Like Taylor has said before, she was promoting a massively successful album and touring the world, and all people wanted to talk about was her personal life and it broke her heart. Well, Taylor, it broke mine too. Next to Fearless, Red is the album that helped me most in life. Red chronicles a disastrous heartbreak from beginning to end. The anger, the frustration, the sadness, the regret, the hopelessness, the pining away. You name it, she wrote about it. If you’re ever heartbroken, put on this album. (Except I hope that never happens to you!!) It’s interesting to me that she wrote the songs for Red while she was touring Speak Now, because we thought she was really happy at that time. But, what do we know? We never really know. Well, Red was nominated for Album of the Year at the 2014 Grammy’s and lost to Daft Punk. Whoever announced the winner that night really dragged out the R when he said “Random Access Memories Daft Punk”. So naturally, Taylor thought she had the award and her face lit up. Only to see that she did not, in fact, win. So, she stood up and clapped, although still looking a little miffed/embarrassed. Well, what do you know, the next day the internet is tearing her apart and making fun of the face she made when she thought she had it and then realized she didn’t. She became a gif, a meme, everything. I have seen the waves of irrational, baseless and crude hatred and bullying of her on the internet over the years and that, to me, was the worst. UNFORGIVABLE! So, anyway, it didn’t win the award, but fans and music critics unanimously agree that it should have. Speak Now might be the fan favorite album, due to the attachment to the Speak Now Era, but we all agree that Red is her best work. Alrighty, let’s dive in! Finally, right?!

 16.  I Knew You Were Trouble: “Flew me to places I’d never been,  ‘til you put me down.”

17.  Everything Has Changed ft. Ed Sheeran: “All I feel in my stomach is butterflies, the beautiful kind, makin’ up for lost time, taking flight making me feel like I just wanna know you better.” *Taylor and Ed are best friends in real life. They claim they wrote this song whilst having In n Out burgers on her trampoline in the backyard. I believe them.*

18.   Treacherous: “Nothing safe is worth the drive and I will follow you home.” *This song is cowritten and produced by Dan Wilson from Semisonic.*

19.  Sad Beautiful Tragic: “Distance, timing, breakdown, fighting, silence… the train runs off its tracks.”

20.  Red!!!!!!!!!: “Moving on from him is impossible when I still see it all in my head, in burning red.”

21.  Holy Ground: “We took off faster than a green light go, yeah you skip the conversation when you already know.”

22.  All Too Well: “I’d like to be my old self again, but I’m still trying to find it.” *The original version of this song is over ten minutes long. This is, unanimously, Taylor’s best song of all time. Check any list by any critic and this song will be at the #1 spot. I think, for me, Red and All Too Well are tied for favorites.*

23.  Begin Again: “You throw your head back laughin’ like a little kid. I think it’s strange that you think I’m funny, ‘cause he never did.”

24.  The Last Time ft. Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol: “You wear your best apology, but I was there to watch you leave.”

 1989: “I wrote about moving to the loudest and brightest city in the world, the city I had always been overwhelmed by… until now. I think you have to know who you are and what you want in order to take on New York and all its blaring truth. I wrote about the thrill I got when I finally learned that love, to some extent, is just a game of cat and mouse. I wrote about looking back on a lost love and understanding that nothing good comes without loss and hardship and constant struggle. There is no ‘riding off into the sunset’, like I used to imagine. We are never out of the woods, because we are always going to be fighting for something. I wrote about love that comes back to you just when you thought it was lost forever, and some feelings never go out of style. I wrote about an important lesson I learned recently… that people can say whatever they want about me, but they can’t make me lose my mind. I’ve learned how to shake things off. I’ve told you my stories for years now. Some have been about coming of age, some have been about coming undone. This is a story about coming into your own, and as a result… coming alive.” Oh man. I have a lot of feelings about this one, too. And not the good kind. Let’s start with facts. 1989 is Taylor’s fifth album and was released in the fall of 2014. There are 13 songs. And that’s it for the facts, because now I’m going to dive into my feelings and opinions about this one. Which are basically facts, but anyway... So, like I said previously, Taylor did not win AOTY for Red and that bothered her. She went home to her hotel room, gorged herself on In n Out burgers, and cried (Dramatic much?!? It’s okay though ‘cause it was a rough night. And I’m not making this up, she really told us that’s how the night went down. POOR TAY!). Next thing you know, she wakes up in the middle of the night with an epiphany that she is going to make a sonically cohesive pop album. She said the problem with Red was that it wasn’t “sonically cohesive”. Swifties hate the word sonically cohesive. It hurts me that I am even typing it. If you are in my presence do not say the word sonically cohesive, okay? Moving on. In a way, she was right. Red WASN’T sonically cohesive, but that’s kind of what we loved about it. Every song on Red sounds exactly like the feeling the lyrics portray. We didn’t think it was an issue. But Taylor wanted to hone in on a specific sound and perfect that and keep things neat and clean. And, of course, that sound was going to be pop. EXCEPT SHE’S ALWAYS BEEN POP BUT SURE. So, Taylor decides to try 80s synth pop (I guess?) and go with that. And so 1989 is born. Look, I love the narrative and inspiration behind 1989. I am really inspired by the prologue I shared up there. It was all about independence and friendships and not needing a man because she had stopped dating. But she also said she had to stop dating because the hate got so bad. So, the whole single life thing was kind of forced on her, but whatever, she embraced it. Except we all know she wasn’t *really* single (Hello Karlie Kloss!!). When the first single from 1989, Shake It Off, came out, I cried incessantly. I was inconsolable, and my friend’s dad had to make us grilled cheeses to cope. Shake It Off never grew on me, and to this day it’s my least favorite Taylor song EVER (it’s borderline unbearable), but the rest of the album did grow on me. To a degree. The problem with 1989 is that a handful of the songs are incredible, and the rest feel incomplete/watered down/like filler. I feel like she really worked to perfect a few of the songs and geared them in a way to be popular on radio, and the rest were afterthoughts. 1989 is the only Taylor album where the best songs were chosen as singles (except for Shake It Off). With Taylor’s albums, usually the best songs feel like hidden gems because they’re never chosen for radio, and so the public doesn’t know about them. I’m happy that everyone got to enjoy her songs from 1989, but it also felt like there was nothing left over for the fans that felt special. The best songs on 1989 ended up overplayed and overdone. 1989 is the first tour I did not attend. I can be honest with you and say I regret that. 1989 isn’t a bad album, it’s a good album, but as far as Taylor’s work goes, it’s just not the best. But it did win Album of the Year in 2016, making her the first woman to win that award TWICE.  To go a little deeper, it wasn’t even so much the 1989 album that I disliked, I think it was more the Era/Taylor in general during 1989 that didn’t jive with me. She got obsessed with appearance, and status, and there were some strange business dealings that left fans feeling used and abused. Before 1989, Taylor felt like the “girl next door” (I do realize she’s a celebrity and not the girl next door at all, but her perfected relatability factor became part of her marketing image), but during 1989 Taylor threw that all away to be #squadgoals with the Victoria’s secret models. Whatever, it was a strange time. Glad that is over. ALSO, listen to Ryan Adams cover of this album. It’s better than the OG at times. Aight aight, let’s dig into these sick beats (ugh).

25.  Welcome to New York: “When we first dropped our bags on apartment floors, took our broken hearts, put them in a drawer. Everybody here was someone else before, and you can want who you want, boys and boys and girls and girls.” *Taylor moved to NYC the summer gay marriage was legalized in New York. Thanks for the shoutout Tay.*

26.  I Know Places: “Just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it, my love. They are the hunters, we are the foxes, and we run.”

27.  Clean!!!!!!: “It was months and months of back and forth, you’re still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can’t wear anymore.” *Despite 1989 being my least favorite album, this song is one of my all-time favorites. It’s brilliant how she compares a relationship to an addiction. And Imogen Heap comes through for some dope ass background vocals.*

28.   Out of the Woods: “The monsters turned out to be just trees, when the sun came up you were looking at me.” *Ryan Adams cover is amazing, and so is an acoustic piano version Taylor did for the Grammy museum. Check youtube.*

29.  You Are In Love: “You keep his shirt, he keeps his word.”

30.  Style: “I say ‘I’ve heard that you’ve been out and about with some other girl. He said ‘What you heard is true, but I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.” I said ‘I’ve been there too, a few times.’”

31.  Wildest Dreams: “You see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night, burning it down. Someday when you leave me I hope these memories follow you around.”

32.  This Love: “Tossing, turning, struggled through the night with someone knew… Lantern burning, flickered in my mind for only you, but you were still gone and gone, gone and gone.”

 Reputation: “We think we know someone, but the truth is that we only know the version of them they have chosen to show us. We know our friend in a certain light, but we don't know them the way their lover does. Just the way their lover will never know them the same way that you do as their friend. Their mother knows them differently than their roommate, who knows them differently than their colleague. Their secret admirer looks at them and sees an elaborate sunset of brilliant color and dimension and spirit and pricelessness. And yet, a stranger will pass that person and see a faceless member of the crowd, nothing more. We may hear rumors about a person and believe those things to be true. We may one day meet that person and feel foolish for believing baseless gossip. This is the first generation that will be able to look back on their entire life story documented in pictures on the internet, and together we will all discover the after-effects of that. Ultimately, we post photos online to curate what strangers think of us. But then we wake up, look in the mirror at our faces and see the cracks and scars and blemishes, and cringe. We hope someday we'll meet someone who will see that same morning face and instead see their future, their partner, their forever. Someone who will still choose us even when they see all of the sides of the story, all the angles of the kaleidoscope that is you.” Last album?!? I can’t believe we’re here already! Reputation, Taylor’s 6th album, was released in the fall of 2017 and consists of 15 tracks. At the start, reputation was a wild ride. During the 1989 Era, Taylor managed to crawl out of the pit of hate and despair that the Red Era brought, and she soared to popularity. I’ve noticed this happens with Taylor, the love/hate comes in waves. One day everyone loves her again, and then the next they hate her. During 1989 Taylor was flying high. Highest grossing tour, AOTY, “dating” (I have to put that in quotes, but that’s a whole other can of worms) Calvin Harris… but, nothing good can last forever, and so literally everything fell apart. Messy break up with Calvin, even messier drama with Kimye (can’t even get into that). Things weren’t going so well. Taylor had reached overexposure and she went into hiding for almost a year. No performances, no candid shots, no interviews, no mags, nothing. She usually releases a new album like clockwork every two years, but she skipped her typical release season and tacked on another year to the wait. Well, while she was hiding, Taylor was doing what she does best.. making music. At some point during the summer Taylor put all of her music back on streaming accounts, and so I knew then that something was brewing. She finally announced the name of the album and released the first single, “Look What You Made Me Do”. The day she dropped “Look What You Made Me Do” was one of the craziest days for just about everyone, let alone Swifties. It felt like the world was literally collapsing over this song. The internet was breaking. A few people loved it right away, some people thought she had cracked and was finally losing her damn mind, and I was just confused and depressed. The day it was released I spent a large portion of the day crying. I cried and clutched onto my 1989 CD (but I never even liked 1989 that much… which shows how much I was worried….) But, before I knew it, I was bopping along to the song and loved it like the rest. And once the music video came out, I realized that everything was going to be okay. If you haven’t seen the music video, you need to. It’s iconic. It broke Youtube’s record for most views in 24 hrs. A few more songs came out before album release and I wasn’t *that* crazy about most of them. Turns out that reputation is like all of Taylor’s albums before 1989, the best songs were not released as singles. Back 2 Basics, guys. The fans get everything, and everyone else gets the scraps. When the album finally did come out I was overjoyed. Now let’s see why!

33.  Delicate: “Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you’re in my head? ‘Cause I know that it’s delicate.”

34.  Getaway Car: “I wanted to leave him, I need a reason.” *Jack Antonoff produced this song and many others on reputation. We are #blessed. I recently read somebody say that Jack has a stranglehold on pop music. I WISH!!*

35.  Dancing With Our Hands Tied: “I loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us.” *Beginning at some point in 2014, Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift entered a torrid love affair. It’s possible they are still together today. That’s a discussion for a later date. Anyway, this song is definitely about her. Funny how some people think Taylor hates gay people (why?) when really she writes songs for them. Thanks Tay.

36.  Dress: “I woke up just in time, now I wake up by your side.” *Also for Karlie.*

37.  Call It What You Want!!!!: “I brought a knife to a gun fight, they took the crown but it’s alright.”

38.  I Did Something Bad: “They’re burning all the witches, even if you aren’t one, so light me up.”

39.  Don’t Blame Me: “For you I would fall from grace just to touch your face. If you walk away, I’d beg you on my knees to stay.”

40.  King of My Heart: “I’m perfectly fine, I live on my own. I made up my mind, I’m betting off being alone. We met a few weeks ago, now you try on calling me baby like trying on clothes.”

41.  New Year’s Day: “You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi. I can tell that it’s gonna be a long road. I’ll be there if you’re the toast of the town babe, or if you strike out and you’re crawling home.”

Spotify link:  https://open.spotify.com/user/22xaifvaciqklwgcnidnxuuhq/playlist/7ssFqGusg3Sf1sPe5cS7hR

[archivesdiveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with CASSIAN KUN HEE, who is TWENTY-EIGHT years old. He is often called CASSIUS by the SPADES and works as their EMISSARY.

It’s like you’re carved out of fucking stone, a collegiate girlfriend had said once, curled on the opposite side of a bench as her tears fell in the January night air in a morse code that would spell out coming years of emotional damage tied to this moment. And indeed, Cassian Kun Hee had had enough experience with marble statues to identify as one: his childhood had been a reverie of white busts and dusty libraries, pristinely-clipped grass, deep red wine and hallways with echoes; and he became the mirror within which all of it cracked and refracted. His father was a dead man in that his choice of passion and career had seen its expiration arrive centuries prior: without Achilles of heroes or monsters of men to fasten ideals upon, the philosophizing of man and his mortality had greatly lost its importance amongst the world. Not quite a phoenix rising amongst the ashes but at least a hawk shaking cinder from its wings, Lucien Kun Hee was a grand thinker that would be identified and immortalized as an even greater philosopher. Though his name was not passed around red carpets or booming theatres, there were several books, lectures, interviews, and even a handful of grainy television specials; there was not an intellectual circle in the world that did not have respect and intrigue for the Korean-American philosopher that had revolutionized modern thinking.

In the way that all children are shaped by their parents, the glass ball that was young Cassian’s life was smudged with the imprints of his forebearers. From his father came the gift of the most lauded minds across the globe: playmates were the stiff-necked sons of academics and the strong-spined daughters of expats and revolutionaries. At the age of nine he sat at a dinner party with Ivy League professors and writers whose own leagues were entirely unquantifiable, so pale and thin he seemed to be quivering. There was no fear, only boredom. He joined the discourse on advanced physicals and moral dilemmas, never once spilled the chestnut bisque on his fine suit. His mother was as formidable a woman as the man she wed; a politically-minded and honest woman that would eventually become New York City’s first female senator, and a nurturing if not strict source in her son’s life. He grew into a teenager with the confident composure of one knows they’re the smartest person in the room - which perhaps wouldn’t have been so damning, if the rooms Cassian was entering weren’t filled with the world’s most brilliant scholars and political leaders. He had a slick quietness borne not of shyness but an arrogant unwillingness to speak when it would be wasted, coming from a mouth too refined to sneer or open when he felt others unworthy (of course, it’s not the lips you must look for on a wolf: it’s the teeth). His distaste was much more subtle, and in that, all the more penetrating - a subtle cant of his head, half-twitch of a smile, sharp dullness in his eyes: the geography of his face was full and terrifying, a reprimand in features for being not quite enough.

But philosophy had no marrow for Cassian, no viscera worth sucking between his teeth - while the mating of his parents had produced a savagely brilliant offspring, it was too much. Even as a child, nothing had ever been enough for him; his brain was never quite occupied enough to allow it to rest in contentedness, and instead it wallowed in apathy, immorality, the wicked desire to know just how much he could get away with. The pursuit of law became the selection for his future, and like all aspects of his life, it had been a thing meticulously dissected and put back together in order to properly identify its bloody advantages beating at its center. More terrifying than a beast is the wolf in repose, as the sight of a monster groomed and calm is all the more horrific when you know its true nature. This was the way Cassian was held in law school, where even amongst notoriously predatory men, he was feared. As he tore through studies with ferocious sufficiency, he posed a threat at once latent and identifiable; through his composure and charm would at times flash through sudden brutality, and that sudden crack in the mask, that slip of cruelness struck like a blow to the ribs, something vicious and unexpected. When it was not abrupt it was lingering, and even those beguiled by Cassian’s handsomeness and drive were left with a feeling of slight uncomfortability, like they knew in some guttural, fairytale part of them that they should be afraid of something in the room, but what escaped them.

Shortly after his graduation, the Kun Hee family was hit with the first blow to their honoured name, and it struck them right at the knees: Cassian’s mother, re-elected to her second term, had been slandered and libelled with allegations of improper solicitation of funds, bribery, and other illicit behaviour that would have seen her expelled or censured. The evidence, though fabricated, had been believable and damning. It was Cassian’s triumph when he became his mother’s champion and systematically disproved all accusations to the court and the public, winning the family (and especially himself) ever-growing favour. -- And it was only natural, of course, that Cassian had been of capable enough mind to free his mother of guilt - when one constructs and anonymously sends in the information to begin with, it becomes all the easier to dismantle it.

A lauded hero of righteousness in America, he traversed to Italy as an attorney shortly after, his shoes polished shining by the hot sighs of all the adulations he had left behind. To most it seemed an unexpected move, but to Cassian it was a strategy long in the making: kingdoms can be taken one by one, but the easiest for taking is the empire already in disarray.

Ajax Delgado: War Dog. What a bloody, mindless thing this boy is. He thinks himself a worthwhile villain, all dressed in the viscera of his enemies as he so often is, but only feral beasts go straight for the jugular - it takes a more refined monster to haunt in other ways. Yet cunning as Cassian is - and as condescendingly as he views Ajax - it’s in his own best interest to keep the vicious man content in order to keep his loyalty. Ajax’s role for him is all the physical enactments that Cassian is too refined to engage in himself: spy, bodyguard, hitman. Their arrangement is well hidden from the Spades (and all of Verona), playing in the shadows they are both so adept in. Call them Verona’s own Hades and Cerebus.

Faron Vasiliev: Boss. Against the hierarchy of nature, Cassian has never been interested in being the alpha -- not on the visible level, at least. Such an obvious position of power leads to obvious danger, and Cassian would prefer to be the neck rather than the head of the operation - that which moves what is apparently in control. Throughout his life he has played at being a carefully removed yet powerful bystander, a leader that those gravitated towards due to inclination rather than force. Cassian’s joining of the Spades had been at his own clever ministrations - the most cunning part of all being that no one would suspect as much, allowing others to believe he’d been recruited - but the longer he spends under Faron’s control, the more manic his frustration becomes. Signing his allegiance with the Spades had been for a bid of general power, but his pride is too great, and his hatred swelling as he must bend the knee for another man. Perhaps he does not want to be the King of Verona, but he can’t stand to see anyone else operate this position either. A revolution is coming, and it hides beneath his pale skin.

Lillian Wen: Fiancée. A painting, hung and framed just above the mantlepiece, shares the fate of the stars: bound to constant admiration, but doomed to forever watch on, never participating. And that’s what Lillian is to Cassian: the most beautiful thing in any room, but with limited use. He read of her return to Verona with rabid interest, and before even having met her planned to make her his wife - a romantic sentiment, if it had been done with an ounce of emotion rather than calculation. Her image (and by extension the furthering of his own) is all he’s ever been after, and he has no care for his fiancée’s evident dislike of him, nor does he have any particular feeling for her. In his ever-present boredom she’s become one of his favourite games, seeing as this is one pawn that has seen more of him than any before her. He teases her often and thinks on the merits of pursuing her into the marital bed to claim his husbandly duties, but it’s nothing more than amusement.

Cassian is portrayed by LEE SOOHYUK. He is currently TAKEN.

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Islanders Injuries; Timo Meier Breakout Potential; Oshie; Hartman – January 8

With bye weeks arriving, the NHL loaded up Sunday’s schedule with 10 games. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, be sure to check which teams are taking the week off and adjust lineups accordingly. Maxing out (or close to maxing out) games played is important, even more so when there are fewer games to pick from.

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Both Josh Bailey and Andrew Ladd missed the Islanders game on Sunday with injuries. We didn’t really get much of an update on either:

Weight on Bailey injury: “Wasn’t horrific news but certainly not good news.” Ladd not long term but out today.

— Arthur Staple (@StapeNewsday) January 7, 2018

I guess it’s good news that Ladd shouldn’t be out long, though there isn’t much for clarity on Bailey. As soon as we learn anything we will pass it on but with the team off until Saturday, it’s doubtful we get much from the team until then.

For Sunday’s game, Ladd was replaced by Anthony Beauvillier and Alan Quine took Bailey’s spot on the top line. Jordan Eberle took Bailey’s spot on the top PP unit.

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Sebastian Aho (Islanders defenceman) got his first two career points on Sunday including his first career goal. He was also paired with Nick Leddy at five-on-five for the entire game and even got some power-play minutes on the second unit. He didn’t crack the 20-minute mark but it’s worth tracking his usage once the Islanders come off the bye. They need all the defensive help they can get and with the team fighting for a playoff spot, maybe they rely on Aho more than they had anticipated initially.

He was sent down to the AHL but it’s due to the bye week. I suspect he’ll be back up when the team returns to action this weekend.

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Quick update on the other Sebastian Aho:

Canes GM Ron Francis says Aho is day-to-day with lower body injury.

— Chip Alexander (@ice_chip) January 7, 2018

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As far as rookies go, I don’t think too much was expected of Nolan Patrick. Unlike Nico Hischier, who was given (you could say earned) the top-line role once Adam Henrique was traded, or Clayton Keller, who is probably the best offensive player Arizona has, or Brock Boeser, whose shooting was lauded by some, Patrick seemed destined to not be featured on this particular roster in this particular season. Maybe he could slot in as the second-line centre, but that wasn’t a given.

All that said, it’s hard not to be disappointed with his season. Going into Sunday afternoon’s game, he had just eight points on the year and at times had been a healthy scratch. His shot rate isn’t very good though that should improve over the years. He’s also last among the team’s forwards in adjusted shot share by a pretty wide margin. Again, that’s not too surprising for a rookie, but you’d think with sheltered competition and favourable zone starts that he’d be a little better in this regard. He hasn’t been.

We know that not all young players develop in a straight line. Some guys like Keller come out guns blazing. Some guys like Victor Hedman can take a few years to really hit their stride. There hasn’t been too much good to come out of Patrick’s rookie season, though. I want to ask his dynasty owners: is there any sort of panic setting in, and for those who don’t own him, are you trying to trade for him?

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While on the subject of Flyers centres, Sean Couturier scored goals 22 and 23 of the season for him in the team’s 4-1 win against Buffalo. He’s on pace for more goals this year (45) than his previous career-high in points (39).

It has been a remarkable offensive season from Couturier, but please exercise some caution. He’s now shooting an even 18 percent on the year. His previous career-high was 11.7 percent, and was a career 9.4 percent shooter coming into 2017-18. Yes, he’s shooting nearly double what his career rate was. I am not saying that with better line mates and more ice time (he’s well over 21 minutes a game) that he can’t be a good offensive player. I am definitely saying that I wouldn’t rely on him to push, or break, the 40-goal barrier on a regular basis.

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Don’t forget the Dobber Hockey Mid-Season Guide will be out later this week! Grab the information you need for the home stretch in your fantasy hockey leagues. Just follow this link here.

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Andre Burakovsky was back in the lineup for the Caps after being scratched for a couple games. He was slotted on the fourth line with Jay Beagle and Alex Chiasson where he stayed for the game, playing under 11 minutes.

The Caps have three games this week and then their bye week comes. Maybe Burakovsky can work his way up the lineup, but if it takes him a couple games to do so, he won’t have much use on redraft fantasy hockey rosters for the next couple weeks. I wouldn’t be running to the waiver wire to add him unless you don’t really need production from a roster spot for a few weeks.

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Now that Timo Meier is seemingly sticking around the top line for San Jose, it’s probably time to start taking his value in redraft leagues seriously. Over his past 20 games, before Sunday afternoon’s tilt – which haven’t all been on the top line, mind you – he’s managed 51 shots and is playing about 15:30 per game.

The following chart from Hockeyviz.com should be taken with a little grain of salt. He’s played nearly one-third of his ice time with Joe Thornton and that’s going to skew things a little. All the same, it’s pretty crazy how good this team has been offensively from dangerous areas with Meier on the ice (red is good):

Since being a top-10 pick a few years ago, Sharks fans have been waiting for Meier to be part of the next generation of top-end scorers the team needs. It looks like it’s finally starting to happen. If you were going to try and buy him in deep keepers, or dynasties, then time is running out. It seems a matter of time before a full-blown breakout hits (even without top PP minutes).

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Jack Roslovic suited up for his second career game, first this season, in Sunday’s game against San Jose. He was on the fourth line with Marko Dano and Matt Hendricks.

It’s nice to see Roslovic get in the lineup, and he did take Adam Lowry’s spot on the top PP unit as well, but it’ll be hard to have a lot of value playing in the bottom-six with the minutes he got (under eight). We’ll see if his role changes this week but like Burakovsky, the Jets have three games and then hit their bye, so I wouldn’t pull a hamstring running to the waiver wire to grab him in one-year leagues.

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St. Louis was in Washington on Sunday afternoon and Brayden Schenn was split away from Vladimir Tarasenko. We’ve seen this happen in sporadic spurts this year, but this seemed inevitable. The team hadn’t scored more than three goals in any one contest for 13 straight games.

This kind of sucks for Schenn, but keep in mind that Tarasenko can produced with just about anyone; he scored 40 goals in 2015-16 playing about half his minutes with Jori Lehtera. I wouldn’t be too concerned about Tarasenko’s production outside of the concerns we already had (namely shooting percentage). In fact, both he and Schenn scored in the team’s overtime loss.

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Florida may have lost in the shootout, but we got this goal from Sasha Barkov, so maybe it was worth it?

Barkov shootout goal: pic.twitter.com/FP5ySXif69

— Cats On The Prowl (@Cats0ntheprowl) January 8, 2018

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TJ Oshie was taken off the top line for the Caps early in the second period in their game against St. Louis and replaced by Devante Smith-Pelly. Oshie was moved to the third line with Lars Eller and Brett Connolly.

It has been a rough year for Oshie production-wise. His 82-game pace for goals this year is 26, which isn’t bad out-and-out bad, but there are red flags. His shots per game is down to 1.86, the lowest for him since his rookie year, and that’s despite playing slightly more per game (18:47) than his career average (18:37). It’s not that his shots aren’t just finding the net, either: his 8.99 shot attempts per 60 minutes at five-on-five (before Sunday’s game) is by far the lowest of his career (10.75 last year and 10.78 in 2013-14). In fact, of out 247 forwards with at least 400 minutes played, he’s 232nd in shot rate. He was never a volume shooter, but he was 169th out of 234 forwards last year. Not great, but a lot better than 2017-18. The names at the bottom of the list with Oshie this campaign are basically passers and grinders. Oshie is neither, so this is a problem.

There have been talks of injuries and he did suffer a concussion last month. Maybe there’s something wrong that we don’t know about. All I know is that playing nearly 19 minutes a game, shooting nearly 17 percent, and having an 82-game pace of 26 goals as a goal scorer isn’t great. Shooting percentage regression was inevitable, but his shot rate is becoming a real problem.  

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Ryan Hartman remained on the second line in Chicago’s 4-1 win against Edmonton while also sticking on the top PP unit. He had an assist, three shots on goal, and played a whopping 20:58. His previous single-game high for minutes this year was 18:36 on New Year’s Eve.

He's not shooting as much as he has in prior seasons, but he’s still at a very healthy 15.85 attempts per 60 minutes at five-on-five, in the same neighbourhood has guys like Auston Matthews, Nikita Kucherov, Tyler Seguin, and Mike Hoffman. Remember, he scored 19 goals in 76 games last year playing fewer than 13 minutes a game. If he can play anywhere from 17-18 minutes a game, in the role he’s being given, there is very good offensive upside here. With a top-six spot and top power-play minutes, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be rostered in 12-team leagues by now, especially now that we’re hitting bye weeks.

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There was a scary situation in the Tampa Bay game as Lightning defenceman Dan Girardi went down to a knee to block a one-timer and took it straight off the back of his head:

A better look at Girardi trying to block a Frk shot pic.twitter.com/uvZoay8vve

— Prashanth Iyer (@iyer_prashanth) January 8, 2018

He was down for a few minutes but skated off the ice under his own power. He did not return to the game but the Lightning indicated that he would be ok. Let’s hope it’s nothing serious.

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Boone Jenner had seven shots on goal in Columbus’s 3-2 shootout win over Florida, but failed to hit the scoresheet. He’s now shooting 4.4 percent on the season.

Jenner was a career 11.3 percent shooter before this season so there is clearly a lot of bad luck going on here. He’s still usually getting 18 minutes of ice time so John Tortorella still trusts him. He’s very valuable in multi-cat leagues and he should be able to turn around that shooting percentage in the second half.

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Pavel Buchnevich was a healthy scratch for the Rangers in their game against the Golden Knights. I don’t know how to explain this, honestly, and can’t properly express myself without a string of expletives so I’ll just let it go for now.

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Hey, Karl Alzner had a multi-point game! He scored his first of the year against Vancouver and assisted on Brendan Gallagher’s game-winner in the third. It was Alzner’s first multi-point game in which he scored since March of 2015. His contract is an utter disaster but this was a nice game for him. So, silver linings and all.

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Boston’s top line is seriously rolling right now. David Pastrnak and Brad Marchand both scored for Boston in their 6-5 overtime loss to the Penguins on Sunday night, each their 17th goal of the season. I guess they were tired of being tired with Patrice Bergeron at 16 goals. The three of them have 10 goals combined over the last four games.

A couple games ago they were on the ice for their first goal against at five-on-five this year but it’s incredible how good they are.

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Sidney Crosby had three assists in that win, bringing his season up to 15 goals and 43 points in 44 games. It wasn’t long ago – literally like four days – that people were still freaking out about his season. There’s still half a season left and a lot of regression to go. Buckle up. 

from All About Sports http://www.dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-islanders-injuries-timo-meier-breakout-potential-oshie-hartman-january-8/