#so this is a very wistful and very longing tribute to that wait

[tenspontaneite]

I will be gaming, caught in something challenging. The cat will chirrup at me and demand attention and knock the controller from my hands when they jump to my lap. I will take a fireball to the face and the run will end. I will complain into the fuzzy visage of the precious little creature that does not understand the world I engage with beyond the screen; they only understand that my hand should be scritching at their ears. I will oblige.

I expect to be paranoid, cooking on my electric stove with its slow-to-heat hotplates. Even when I'm done the surface will be hot enough to burn delicate paws. I will conspire to find a cover to soothe my fears; lids with holes to allow the heat to escape, and keep away the unwary creature with whom I share my life. The shape of my self-care will bend around the shape of the cat's safety. A slow expansion of my habits, one by one.

I expect to banish the cat from the living room when I go to use the treadmill. There is a soft and comfortable sofa there; some days, the cat will be sleeping, and I will feel monstrous to peel this soft and restful creature from their slumber. But I will not risk their curiosity when I run like I do, thudding on the belt at a pace that would eat miles were I outside, and shall not risk the harm that my feet might visit should they stray too close.

I will have forgotten the erstwhile consequences of leaving food on the counters. The cat will remind me, nosing at the butter I forgot to put away. The house will be cleaner; not because I have become a cleaner person, but that this creature needs it thus to be safe.

I will leave the laundry in piles on the floor, clean but forgotten. The cat will find it a fine place for sleeping, and the clumps of pale shed fur will lead me ruefully back to the washing machine again. An armoury of lint rollers will assemble in the drawers I keep near the door.

My windows will be guarded and my doors secure; summer shall not admit an escapee to the world outside. The cat toys will litter my floor.

I have not lived with a cat for eight years. In the night, I'll wake again and again at the sounds of something moving in the house, cold adrenaline leaving me still and alert in the dead of night for those seconds before I remember. But time will pass, and I will know again what it is to live with a warm living creature with a beating heart and curious eyes, and no longer shall I stir when the cat goes bump in the night.

[midautumnnightdream]

Friendship

For Cosette Appreciation Week

*

If she was to be perfectly honest, Cosette wasn’t sure she liked the convent of Petit-Picpus all that much.

It was important to be Perfectly Honest: Mother Innocente had said as much, when she showed Cosette around the classrooms and the dormitories and explained all the Rules a schoolgirl must concern herself with. Being honest must have been the most important Rule of them all, for Mother Innocente had mentioned it no less than three times, her dark eyebrows forming a severe line under her coif as she peered down to Cosette.

(“Don’t lie to me, you little wretch” Madame had said, and truly Mother Innocente was nothing like Madame at all, except for the eagle sharpness of her gaze, the lightning abruptness of her movements and Cosette –)

Cosette had bowed her head and nodded and smiled and understood.

She had been nodding and smiling ever since she bade farewell to papa and uncle Fauvent earlier, promising to have fun and make friends and to study well. She had nodded and smiled though Mother Innocente’s lecture, and through introductions to the eight curious-eyed schoolgirls waiting in her dormitory, thankfully already in their beds, and to Mother Saint-Ange, who came to wake them in the morning and asked if she was settling in nicely.

(Cosette thought of the worry in her papa’s eyes, when he first explained that the convent was to become their new home. She thought of their nighttime flight through the streets, as strange and wondrous as a dimly recalled dream, and the odd adventure with uncle Fauvent’s melon basket. Madame was looking for her, papa had said. Madame was outside the convent and must be looking for her even now.

Honesty was important, Cosette understood. She also understood that to say Right Things was even more important.)

The dormitory was filled with chatter of eight sleepy little girls, going about their morning procedures: one struggling with her dress buttons, two braiding each other’s hair, several more grumbling over the early hour as they made their beds. Cosette, already dressed, hovered uncertainly by the window, casting wistful looks at the gardener’s hut, just visible in the predawn light of early March, as she tried to ignore the curious glances thrown her way. Papa had tried to comb and braid her hair, she recalled, during their first days in Paris. However not even the most gentle teasing could untangle the knots, let alone the sticky patch that papa had declared with some wonderment to be stained with wood resin. He had seemed so terribly sad when he cut her hair, despite Cosette’s assurances that she didn’t mind at all.

All the same, she thought with a pang, it would be nice to have someone make her braids.

It wouldn’t be so bad, she thought to herself, as Mother-Saint-Ange came back to usher the group to their morning prayers, if she could live in the little house with papa and uncle Fauvent. She liked the gardener’s hut; it was small and warm and cosy, much cosier even than their room in the Gorbeau house. The convent was too big, too dark, and filled with strangers – far more strangers than Cosette had expected, she realised as they entered the church. She kept an eye on her companions, carefully copying each action, but her mind was much too preoccupied to focus on prayer. She wondered if her papa was present in the church, in some secret corner out of sight of the students. He must be, she decided, and allowed herself to relax into the moment of imagined closeness.

All too soon the girls were sent to their way towards refectory. Cosette trailed after her dormitory mates, anxiously aware of the whispered conversation that had broken out and the glances thrown her way. She crumpled her apron tight between her fingers as she steeled herself for the inevitable encounter.

If Cosette was Perfectly Honest – and Mother Superior had been very insistent on that point – this merry group had worried her more than the nuns, or echoing corridors, or the looming promise of the lessons that she felt terribly unprepared for. Certainly, the nuns intimidated her, but she knew, knew that they were nothing like Madame, that papa would never leave her someplace terrible, or allow another adult to hurt her. But the girls were a different matter. Cosette had listened to their conversations, peppered with references to things she knew nothing about, observed their manners and the games they played, and had instantly understood that these girls were true little ladies like ‘Ponine and ‘Zelma – perhaps even more so. Surely these girls could tell that she wasn’t like them, that she didn’t belong here – and once they realised that, well. At best they would simply dismiss her like the children in Montfermeil, and ignore her until she inevitably got in their way, but then? Certainly they would complain to the nuns about having to share their room with l‘Alouette, the werewolf child, and she would be punished for lying, maybe even thrown out and sent back to Madame?

This won’t happen. Cosette reminded herself. Papa would never allow it. If the nuns don’t let us stay, we’ll just have to run away again. Thus reassured, she felt almost ready to face the tribunal, when one of the girls exclaimed “Well, just ask her!” and turned to face Cosette.

Cosette slowed. The girl was three or four years older than her own peers, and judging by the avid gazes following her progress, a subject to some interest. The solemnity of her gaze was rather reminiscent of the prioress; she stopped in front of Cosette and demanded:

“Crickets or spiders?”

Cosette blinked.

The girl’s lips twitched ever so slightly, but her serious gaze didn’t waver.

“Do you prefer crickets or spiders?”

Cosette rallied herself. “Crickets,” she said.

The girl grinned. “That’s well! You will come join us in the Cricket Corner. We’re closest to the kitchen.”

Cosette blinked again. “Will there be... crickets there then?” she asked, feeling a bit foolish.

Her new companion only smiled amiably. “There might well be. There might be caterpillars and wood-louses too. Possibly spiders. You’re not afraid of spiders, are you?”

Cosette shook her head. “Not at all,” she answered, more or less truthfully. She wasn’t afraid of spiders, not really, but something about watching the flies twitching and trapped in their webs gave her a funny feeling.

The older girl smiled her approval. “That’s good,” she said, and then added. “I’m Anne-Marie Bouchard.”

She then continued to introduce every girl who followed them into the Cricket Corner, before pointing out and naming a number of pupils from the other tables who she declared to be “of interest.” Cosette, seated between Anne-Marie on her right hand and her dormitory mate Jeanine on her left, tried her best to keep up with the sudden flood of information, until paternoster put an abrupt end to all conversation.

The breakfast itself was a hushed affair, not even a whisper interrupting the story of Saint Genevieve, read by one of the big girls from a pulpit under the crucifix. Cosette considered her new friends with a mixture of bafflement and gratitude as they ate, her natural shyness warring with the urge to offer them something, to give back a little bit of the kindness and trust that was extended to her.

“Do you know, I always quite liked crickets,” she eventually confessed, as the pupils gathered around ronds d’eau to wash their cups. “I used to listen to them when everyone had gone to sleep, and sometimes I thought, if I followed the crickets, they would take me to my mama.” She flushed and fell silent.

However, her story seemed to delight Anne-Marie. “Adventure! Oh but I like this!”

“Were you fostered in the country too then?” asked Jeanine. “I used to live in Montmartre for years. My brother Alain, he was terribly sickly when he was born, so we were both sent to live in a vineyard. But mama still came to visit us all the time. Did your mama not visit?”

“My mama is dead,” replied Cosette.

“Oh!” Jeanine flushed. “Is that why you stayed fostered for so long?”

“Yes that’s why,” Cosette said, then added, as a guilty tribute to honesty “I didn’t like it there. Living with papa was much better.”

“It is a pity,” Jeanine sympathised. “I really missed Montmartre at first, and then I missed living with my parents. When I first came here, I cried all night! But I got used to it, and now I’d miss the school just as much!”

“Ah children! you’re easy to please!” said Anne-Marie a little dryly. But upon seeing the expressions on the younger girls’ faces, she relented a bit. “All the same, it’s truly not so bad, this place. You can have a lot of fun here, if you let yourself.”

Perhaps sometimes, Cosette reflected, Perfect Honesty simply meant repeating the Right Things until you could make them become true. “I’m sure I will,” she promised.

[springtimebat]

The Autumn Meeting (3/4)

Abram bounces up and down on the spot, his scales dancing across his forehead, his mouth a giant grin, teeth as sharp as knives.

“You’re gonna love it so much guys! You don’t understand! It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever conjured.”

“Just get it over with Abe,” Emil whines, checking a small clock in his breast pocket, “We’re already behind schedule.”

Abe stops dead and wraps his fins around his chest.

“Are you always this mean?” The Queen asks, shaking her head at Abram who stares at the floor. 

“You’ve read about us, or so you say. Why don’t you tell me?”

The Queen rolls her eyes. Abram gives a wistful sigh. Gus, a disembodied head in the leaves, squeaks in a strange nonsense language that makes his friends smile. 

“Start from the beginning this time Abram. I don’t want a repeat of the mermaid incident.”

“The mermaid incident?” The Queen asks

“He started from the middle. The girl already owned legs, yet she still longed for them.”

“That was one time!” Abram huffed, “Now is everyone settled? Or do you need to shout at me some more?”

All three attendants nod.

“Okay, now I’ll start.” He turned to their guest, “Your majesty, you might wanna cover your ears for the first few minutes. The beginning may be a bit muffled but many have been known to go deaf when I slip into my other voice.”

“Another voice?” 

“You’ll see,” He grins. And so the third tale of the night begins at four in the afternoon:

{The Two Beings}

There were once two beings

One was of greys, blacks and whites

He lived amongst royalty 

Survived in their courts 

He never quite belonged 

So he also held company with lower beings

Of slime and muck and grit

As the first being grew strong on their discarded remains

He left the royalty and the courts 

And ruled along the paper margins of Fairy

Soon after he developed an interest in humans

A hobby many found unhealthy 

He’d follow them around 

Watched them

Children seemed to be the only humans that would listen to the ruler’s prattling

The being did not mind

For they were interesting

They filled a void that slime could not

Then

One day

The ruler met a second being

The second being was one of light

Of blues, greens, reds and pinks

She was human

She belonged to the upper wall

And she lived her life in chains

As bright and as ordinary as the ruler was dark, stark and strange

She spent her days alone 

Hiding her beauty from the rest of the world 

An assistant to twin brothers

Frogs

Toads 

She was left to feed off of scraps 

And to be whipped by a cruel guardian

The first being found his counterpart one night 

One lonely night

Peering through his window 

He caught her exhausted in rags 

Torn at the hem

Hair bushy

Face muddy from soot

And of course 

He immediately fell in love with her

So he began his pursuit

Observing her from his own realm

She was everything he was not 

Everything he lacked 

A great regard for life danced in her forget-me-not eyes

It was a short

Almost too short

Time 

before the ruler of the muck and slime was certain she would be a suitable bride

And his determination grew

He’d leave tributes on her bedroom sill;

Pine cones, leaves, twigs and rocks

Each one she took from him 

A special pieces of his soul

She tucked them all away

Never to be seen again

The girl ignored him

Acted as if he were not there

And so the challenge went on...

 “Exeunt.”

 Abram smiles, looking around the campgrounds for a response. Guy whistles and The Queen gives her second clap of the day. Emil, unchanging, shakes his head. Before he can respond, Abram begins again.

“I’m working on the middle...and the beginning…and the ending.”

“Obviously,” Emil snarks.

“Wait I’m confused,” The Queen stutters, “Was there an ending?”

“No,” Abram replies, confused, “Why would there be?”

“This is a workshop, your majesty. A story doesn’t need an ending if you don’t want it to.”

“I know it’s awful,” Abram frowns, anxious tears forming in his eyes like beads of smoked glass.

 “I was thinking of adding a subplot with some gremlin people. Like, a parallel romance story line to kinda act as a comedic escape from all the existentialism-”

“Ah yes that would be very fine,” Emil grins, “Very fine indeed Abe my boy!” 

“Y-yeah! I also thought maybe...you could help me with uh… some world building and structure and stuff. So it flows naturally.”

“Hmm, good idea. Good idea Abram.” Emil rolls his head back to the fire, which is starting to die out, “Say Abe, can you answer a question I have about your story?”

“Sure!”

“Is your story, perhaps, based on a particular person in this group tonight?” 

Abram rolls his eyes, “It ain’t about you Emillian.”

“No not me you fool! Is it based on our guest of honour over there?” 

The Queen’s eyes grow wide. Abram says nothing and begins to stare down at his feet again. 

Emil smirks triumphantly, “Thought so.”

Gus’ thigh gives a little creak in the darkening wilderness.

“I know that Gus, but how many of those queens are sitting down here with us tonight?” 

Gus shrugs a shoulder, giving up. 

“Last year, you told me to be spontaneous,” Abram mumbles, “Now here I am, making up prose as I go, and you hate it.”

“I don’t hate it, Abe my boy! I just find it intolerable.”

Abram groans. The Queen sighs in annoyance.

“I’m terribly sorry for existing, sir.” She mutters. 

“Good. You should be. But since you’re here you can give Abram some pointers for his story. Make yourself useful.”

“Pointers? What pointers could she give me?”

“She’s a queen you dolt! She knows all about rulers! She’s gonna marry one!”

“Oh yeah! Hey I do need help on the characters innermost fears and desires! Being stuck underwater most of the year makes you miss out on courtly endeavours.” 

With that, Abram shuffles closer to the Queen’s makeshift throne. As the group reorganises, a high screech flies through the air above their heads, causing them to lift their eyes to the treetops. The Queen shudders and pulls her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her dress shifts slightly. Only slightly. But it’s enough for the men to notice how her stomach swells underneath the fabric. 

“So that’s it then,” Emil grimaces, “A bouncing baby boy. That’s why he’s marrying you.”

The Queen gives a warm smile and strokes her stomach with one hand, “He’s three months old.”

“A big thing for three months.”

A softer, yet hungrier scream pierces the forest and the queen goes back to hugging her cloak. 

“It’s the corridors.”

“The corridors?”

“Yes. They’ve discovered I’m gone. They’ll be coming soon. How long will this take?”

“As long as we want it to.”

“My husband will be here soon and-”

“Exactly! That’s what we want to talk to you about. Now quick fussing! Abram! Ask one question now. We still have one story to get through.”

Abram grins, “What do you think of purity?”

“Purity?” The Queen repeats, taken aback. 

“Yes, purity.”

The Queen swallows, “Purity, at least the ideas most people have about purity, are phantoms. Babes, the pure ones, the prideful ones, can handle cruelty in their stride. They hold glass shards in their eyes. Beware the little ones; they’ll devour your heart with knives, forks and all. The phantoms, these small shadows of ideas, lead you on and ensnare you in a pretty bear trap marked with flowers. Mark my words, the pure ones will eat you clean.”

The men stare at her. She shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s something my mother used to say to me.”

“Hmm,” Emil turns to Abram, “That has nothing to do with the King my boy. Ask another one about the king.”

“Oh no, please don’t! I don’t think-”

“Why? What do you not want us to find out? That he eats babies too?”

“Nothing! It’s just he told me things. Important secrets you only tell the person you wish to marry.”

“What things? What important secrets?”

“We were sat on the screen porch one day-”

“The what?”

“The screen porch. It’s a balcony in the castle, hidden away with an invisible tarp.”

“What’s its purpose?”

“The glass hides the rest of the world. Puts it on its side. And it keeps the insects out. The panels are covered in their eyeballs and guts-”

“How gruesome!”

“The king, an insect grower!”

“Imagine!”

“And a competent one at that!”

“The nerve of the rogue!” 

“The view makes up for it. On that day of secrets, we were watching a sunset, spying on the angels.” 

“Hmmph, angels!”

“Yes. The King was talking about angels, demons and the like-”

“Typical monarch!”

“He likes to discuss things that he can’t keep in cages.”

“Particularly to things he’s managed to trap.”

“Indeed, I suppose some would see it that way. I find talk of immortality fascinating.”

“You would, you immortal.”

“Future immortal. We were just finishing dessert when the king grabbed my hand and began to stroke the creases in my palm. When I looked up at him he said, “You know what I wish for? More than anything in the world?” I just said I could guess but I’d probably be wrong.”

“How humble of you.”

“He stopped for a moment and gazed up at the sun, on its last legs. Then he swallowed and looked back at me. He told me his biggest secret then.” 

“And now you will tell us, three old pedallers. You will tell us an immortal’s Achilles heel?”

“Yes, I don’t see why not.”

“Very well child.”

“He turned and said-”

“What? What girl?”

“Isn’t it obvious? A soul.” 

“A soul?”

“At first, I thought he had something caught in his throat. Like, he meant to say “soldier” or “solar panels”. Anything other than a soul.” 

“Oh how perfectly ludicrous! An immortal obsessed with souls! That explains you finally. You’re his pet soul. A human girl he can point and laugh at.”

“I point and laugh at him much more than you realise. I didn’t laugh at him on this particular day. On soul day. I just hugged him.”

“And that right there is why he tolerates you. That’s why he wraps you in cotton wool and keeps you locked up with him. That’s why he smothers you with heavy brick walls.” 

“Maybe so. It’s also the reason he asked for my hand.”

“That’s why he asked for your wrist. What’s your reason?”

“For our marriage?” 

“Yes, sod it all, what was your reason for saying yes to him?” 

“Well, I said yes because I love him and I was lonely. And he loves me and is lonely. That’s how these things tend to work.” 

“Why do you love him?”

“Obviously because he’s the grower of insects!”

“I suppose that’s a requirement then? To love a king?”

“That and a pretty sunset.”

“How trivial.”

Suddenly, Abram gives a giant huff. Everyone turns back to him, kicking his legs in the dirt.

“Sure! Sure! It’s fine when Emil interrupts me but when I interrupt his story to ask a simple question. Oh no! Blasphemy! I’m a degenerate! You know what Emillian? I like my story as it is! No subplots, no ending, no superfluous detail, nothing! I don’t need any of this nonsense! What kind of king just sits in a giant flytrap all day, eating babies and wishing about souls and angels and demons and…ugh! I’m done with this Emillian! It took me twenty years to be invited here and I always get treated like mud. But this takes the cake! Enjoy your new companion. I’m going to where I’ll be respected. That’s what I’m doing! Hang around the royalty you despise. Enjoy yourself.” Abram starts stomping away, then stops, picking up a piece of Gus’ chest plate, “And I’m taking Gussie with me!”

He gives a growl then leaves, ignoring the groups’ stunned silence as he gives himself to the shadows.

“Should we go after him or-” 

“No. He’ll be back. He just needs to cool off.” Emil replies, gazing up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set and the shadows were getting stronger. 

“We haven’t got much more time,” The Queen explains, “The king will probably start searching the woods soon and he hates it when I go out on my own-”

“Very well,” Emil interrupts, calmly, “Start your story now. Abram will have to miss out just this once. Poor old guy.”

The Queen sighs with relief and rests back into her throne. 

On the outskirts of the never ending forest, encased in smoke, shadows and carcasses, the city of tomorrow outstretches a wary leg. It has waited patiently. It has called her name for hours. Now it will wait no more. After a moment of hesitation, it slips into the trees, merely a grotesque silhouette. 

[mxvladdy]

A Break

Part Trios. More fluff more plot! part 4 will be out eventually, I’ll still bouncing some ideas around with it as I write. 

Chapters: 1-2-3-4

Steam wafted up at him, reddening his already pink tinged cheeks. It scalds the very tip of his strong nose. The contrast between his thermos and the frigid tundra air around him was violent, but worth it for the subtle aromas wafting up at him. 

Smiling indulgently into his cup he took a small sip savoring the light fruitiness of the blend. It was an interesting mix of flavors, like nothing he would have found at home. Yet very reminiscent of it. The dried pear was crisp and sweet, a gentle tribute to fall as winter beat around him. The blending of it with the smokey molasses taste of the hojicha had him groaning in delight. His sweet tooth was sated by the slight undertones of chestnut and caramel. It hit the back of his throat just right warming him. You had described the tea perfectly. Sweet, strong, and complex. 

Just like you. Hanzo flushes pink under his scarf recalling that absolutely radiant smile you had when presenting him with the small tin. A parting gift before his flight. Your newest house blend you said brightly tucking into his pack. It was humbling to think that he was important enough in your life to inspire such a unique gift. Let alone the idea of it gracing your shop’s walls. 

Tucking himself deeper into the small alcove Hanzo took in the snowy plains. Finding his center he breathed deeply enjoying the sting of the cold air filling his lungs as the sun rose in front of him. The howling of the wind around him creates a drone as it hits the half wall protecting him.  At first, he had marked this nook as a tactical sniper nest, it’s unencumbered view advantages if an attack came. After a few visits, he came up just for the peace it held. The resplendent view was always enough to soothe his frayed nerves after long bouts with his teammates. 

Pink and orange lights from the rising sun bounce innocently off the crystalline surfaces of ice clinging to every surface. The rays twinkling on the snow in an almost celestial way. Further on the lights of the nearby fishing village shimmer to the north. A few boats were already setting out for the day. It was nice to be back.

The last time he had been to Russia had been for the family 'business'. A successful venture into expanding their arms trading routes with his late father. While not a leisurely visit by any means, the few times he had been allowed outside the hotel had been wonderful. Springtime in Moscow as he recalled was pleasant. The nip of the last vestiges of winter refreshing. The late season snow and frigid rains at night help to wipe the grime of the past year away, leaving the city smelling clean and virginal. He wished he could have stayed long enough to watch the city come alive.

Would you like it here in a small village? Or in a larger city? Hell, would you even like Russia at all? Hanzo takes another sip watching the last dregs swirl at the bottom contemplatively. Did you like the cold? Once you had commented that you had never seen fresh snowfall. None of any substantial quantity at least. It would be a nice thing to experience with you. Risking frostbite, he shucked his gloves digging out his com. His last internet search looking up at him. He closed it quickly, heartbeat quickening with nerves.  Perhaps he’d bring that up on a later date.

Instead, he got comfy opening up a new tab perusing “This year’s hottest vacation destinations”. They were all pretty sure-but lacking something. Neither of you are big on crowds, so perhaps nothing too close to tourist epicenters… No- he needed something quiet and out of the way. He could afford to spoil you easily. Hanzo laughs to himself, already hearing your protests at the amount of money he was thinking of spending. But you deserved it and so much more for his negligence. Yes, he decided then clearing his screen his searches for more private venues. One place jumping out to him.

It was unfortunate that his dreams of taking you home would never come to fruition. Hanamura was enchanting in the wintertime. During the better years at the castle, he and Genji would often take to the rooftops. Building snowmen and inappropriate mounds of snow where the staff could not reach. Then in the evenings would snuggle close under the kotatsu, eventually drifting off after a heavy snack. Hanzo’s smile turns brittle, a wistful sigh escaping him. Taking you anywhere near Japan would be risky. Even with the elders long since buried, and the Shimada Dynasty crippled. If he were to be recognized... 

No, anything that put you at risk was unacceptable. Looking back down at his com he nixed anything in the eastern hemisphere. Perhaps Scotland? He didn’t think he had a bounty there; not yet anyway. 

[Apologies Agent]    

Hanzo starts at the sudden voice in his ear quickly clicking off his com. As if she couldn’t see his search history whenever she pleases. “Athena,” He pressed his finger to his ear to respond. “How can I assist you?” 

[Sorry for interrupting your downtime. Your brother wished for me to inform you that he is waiting for you in the commons]

Hanzo gazed blankly out into the white abyss. “What?”

[Brother-commons-now] She repeats unable to hide the mirth in her tone.

“He’s in Nepal-” He argues dumbly pressing his finger harder against his ear.

[He wished it to be a surprise. So surprise.] She disconnects then, snarky voice blowing away with the wind. 

Biting back a smile he rose. It wasn’t unlike his brother to drop by unannounced. It has been his defining personality trait since birth. Heh, little shit. Packing up quickly, Hanzo takes one last look out over the last moments of peace he’ll have for the rest of the day. With a calming breath he steps off the ledge landing gracefully to the floor below with a soft womph. His mechanical legs absorb the impact with ease. Walking down the empty corridors his footsteps echoing dully against the metal walls. His teammates having already separated to go about their duties after breakfast. The thought of food making his stomach growl. 

Hmmm... Genji and his foolishness could wait a little longer. 

Changing directions he took a sharp turn nearly running into a crouching figure in the path. “Ah! Ms. Zhou, are you alright?” He hurries over to the young scientist. 

“Morning Hanzo! Ha, yes I’m fine.” She flushes righting her askew glasses. “Wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings- uneven tiling.” Pointing at the raised title that had tripped her. Wordlessly, Hanzo knelled helping to collect the scattered papers and tablets. As she rights herself.

“Where are you headed?” He asked offering to help her carry her belongings. 

“Kitchens; need some caffeine to function.” She chuckles leading the way. “Thank you by the way for the Oolong! I’m almost out, didn’t even know how much I was drinking till I was scraping the bottom of the tin. So I guess it's back to coffee for now.” 

Hanzo beams inwardly. The cold hiding his flush of pride. “I’m glad you enjoy it. I'll have to order more soon.” He makes a mental note to order more for himself too.

Mei arrives first at the doors to the kitchen and turns. “Would you like to join me? It’s been ages since our last get together.” Hanzo winces, chastising himself for his negligence. It had been quite a long time since they last spoke. She had been one of the first to warm up to him. Shortly after his arrival at headquarters, she had helped him move his extensive collection of literature to his room. From there they began recommending books and articles on their particular interests to each other. Soon their little get togethers became a regular thing and earned them the title of “Overwatch Bookclub” courtesy of Hana. Even though it was only a “club” of two, neither of them minded. 

He was about to agree to a bit of good company over breakfast when his com chimed. A very recognizable ringtone at that. Damn- he had almost forgotten. “Perhaps another time? Genji has stopped by and is as impatient as ever.” Hanzo bowed low in apology. 

Mei waved his apology off with a smile. “No, no worries!” She brightens clapping her hands together. “Do tell him I say hello!”  With a quick nod and another bow Hanzo turns back leaving the young woman to bustle about the kitchens on her own. He walks back up the halls slowly to the large commons. Warmth hits him hard wrapping himself in its comfortable embrace when he enters. The crackling of a large fire flickers bright yellow and red casting a cheery glow over the lone occupant. His brother sat beneath the sole window of the room. The large oval pane of plexiglass looking out over the glacial sea and cliffside. Genji faced towards it, long legs propped up on the small sill texting animatedly. Hanzo’s com lighting up once more obnoxiously.

“Aniki!” Genji chips turning his head to throw his scowling brother a lopsided grin. Hanzo relaxes nerves easing at seeing his little brother smile, his faceplate off and attached to his side. “Surprised!?” 

“I would have been more surprised if you had called ahead.” He chuckles placing his jacket and scarf neatly over the back of the chair, sitting across from his brother. 

Genji gasps, throwing a hand to his forehead. “You wound me! After all the trouble I went through to bring gifts…” 

That piques his interest. His dragons rumbling in excitement. “Oh? And here I thought Nepal was nothing but bitter winds and bells.” Hanzo shot back, eyeing the satchel slung over Genji’s chair expectantly. 

“Ha.Ha.” Genji replies sardonically thrusting a large heavy box in his brother’s direction. The parcel was clumsily wrapped, the paper wrinkled from its long journey. Even so, Hanzo smiles looking over at his brother for some kind of ruse.

“What is the occasion?” He slips easily into their native tongue. He peels at the tape slowly, more so to annoy his brother than to preserve the paper. The box underneath was old and worn, having been stored somewhere to age unloved. Faded watermarks and nicks littered the top cover. Some were old. Older than the others. His heart stops, throat clenching tight in realization. “Genji-” He knew this box. He knew some of the nicks in the grain. If he squints he could see the stain he made on the top right corner. Almost hearing the clatter of his tea set against the wood from all those years ago. His worn fingers trace over the grid top. The yew was just as strong and supple as when he was given it. The dragons painstakingly crafted into the sides of the box grinning up at him. 

It was a shogi board. It was his shogi board. His first and last gift from his mother. It was bittersweet to recall all the days he spent playing against her in her hospital bed. Connecting over it on the lonely days when Father was out and Genji was still too young to visit. “How?” He whispers voice cracking. He thought he had lost this forever, burned no doubt with the rest of his things when he fled. It had hurt to leave it, more so than any other valuable he had. 

Genji watched his brother rediscover the old game. Watching Hanzo's smile turn tender as he gets lost in a memory. Genji turns back to the window rubbing his neck unsure of what to do with this rare display of emotion. He hadn’t expected this reaction. He remembers playing it with him once or twice when he was younger. The few times he did was to humor Hanzo. He never really understood his brother's hyper fixation on it though. Video games were much more entertaining. 

“Well~” He starts sunning himself. “After a relaxing time contemplating my navel with my Master. I figured I could use a bit of exercise.” He glances over at his brother flipping him a roguish smirk. Hanzo scoffs rolling his eyes trying- and failing to hide the tears misting at the corners of his eyes. Genji turns back quickly to the window, giving him a little privacy to compose himself. “Just thought I would pop by, say hello and poke at what remains of the ol’ hornet's nest.”

Hanzo chuckles wetly too engrossed in his memories to really chastise his siblings' reckless behavior. He moves on autopilot finding the hidden compartment of the board to pull out the silk bag within. It had held out better than the board thankfully. Opening it he dumps out the hand carved Koma. The alabaster and mother of pearl pieces were blessedly unblemished. He thought he had lost this forever.

“Play a round?” He interrupts his brother’s prattling. “Perhaps all these years apart have made you a better player.” He jokes, wiping quickly at his eyes and clearing his throat. 

Genji laughs rising to the challenge. “Bet I could wipe the floor with you.” He drops his feet from the sill and rotates to sit properly at the table jabbing a finger in Hanzo’s face.

His brother scoffs, already setting up the board. “Please, no amount of meditation can train you to sit and focus long enough.” 

“Oh, it’s so on…” 

Hanzo stretches in his chair smugly hours later. The muttered curses of his brother sweet in his ears. 

“You cheat.” Genji pouts helping to clean up the board before getting his feet to flex his legs. 

“Hmph!” Hanzo chuckles leaning further over the back of his chair till the world turned upside down. “I do not need such tricks to best you.” He watches his brother putter around the small kitchenette. 

Genji returns mocking his brother in a high pitched voice. He flicks at Hanzo’s crooked nose before he could right himself in his seat. “Ya-ya-ya. Next time will be different.” Genji drops back in his chair depositing a few plates, cups, and a tea kettle.

“Doubt it,” Hanzo rubs at his stinging nose.” I am never second best.” 

“Up yours,” Genji says sticking his tongue out. “Keep teasing me and I’ll eat all the food I brought myself.” 

Hanzo quiets down still grinning. “Oh? Did you go to Mia’s?” 

“Ha! If I did I would have fed the deers your half.” Genji ducks out of the way of Hanzo’s kick to the shin. “No, after my little escapade I figured it was best to find a new vacation spot.” He smirks, turning his attention back to his rucksack searching for something. “Decided to take a little ‘hop across the pond’ to the states.”  

Hanzo raises a brow. Oddly large jump. Well-out of the two he was the more spontaneous one. Guess some things never change. “I see-” He waits, allowing the theatrics for once. Watching his brother’s movements turn feline, mischief radiating off of him. Uh oh.

“Yeah. Thought I’d mix it up from the big cities. Lay low somewhere a bit smaller.” He peers at Hanzo, eyes alight. “Went to this fabulous little coastal town. Touristy, but quaint.” An odd tingle starts up Hanzo’s spine, his dragons going worryingly silent. “Remember the taffy we used to get from our nanny? The red and pink wrapped ones we would sneak after dinner? Thought I’d try the local ‘saltwater’ taffy.” Genji chortles pulling out the last of his surprises. “Stuff almost undid all of Angie’s hard work.” The tingle picked up to a static like buzzing pinching at his shoulders and jaw. He knit his brows staying silent. He couldn’t- “Luckily, I found this amazing little tea shop down the corner. Figured a hot drink would soften the cement gluing my mouth shut.” 

Hanzo’s quib is lost on his tongue. His eyes locking onto the sapphire and gold tin. He couldn’t. Genji’s asinine tale is drowned out by the static building in his ears. The waves of sound mixing with the dizzying panic giving him tunnel vision. 

The aroma hit his gut differently than it did this morning.

“Brother? You ok?” Hanzo pulled himself out of his deluge of thoughts. Gaze flicking up to his brother’s. He eyes him worryingly. His arm outstretched holding a small plate out for him. One of your signature macarons resting on it. The little pink flower on top still fresh, not having wilted from the long journey.

“You know.”

“Yes.” Genji nods simply placing the plate down in front of him. The brothers say nothing as Genji prepares and serves the tea. “She seems lovely.” 

“How?” The archer hisses baring his teeth in frustration, white knuckling the table. He had been so careful. If Genji knew then who else could? 

Genji sat quietly breathing deeply through his nose thinking over the words forming in his mind. He has to choose what he says carefully, watching his brother descending mentally into a panic. Locking himself down. This isn’t what he wanted to happen. Damn, should have listened to Zenyatta. He is a private man rebuilding his life, my student. Give him time and space to grow. Ugh. It was too late to go back now anyway… 

“Mei-Don’t worry! She doesn’t know anything!” Genji catches himself quickly as the look of panic grows on his brother’s face. “She shared drinks with me a while back. Said you gave it to her. I know your taste in Oolong and that was not it.” He tries for levity. “You’re a grumpy old man of habit; who I know only imports from Japan. Seeing an American name had me curious.” He pauses taking a sip from his cup. It was really good tea, it matched his brother’s sweet tooth perfectly. On his little trip to the shop, Zen had gifted him a zesty lemon white tea. The smell itself was decadent and the flavor refreshingly tangy. “One web search later and a few wrong turns I found the place. You definitely have a type Aniki! Thought she was gonna put my head through the glass display case for flirting with her.” 

Hanzo chokes on air. “Flirt!?” His glare turning thunderous. The urge to throttle the cyborg rising.

“I had to know!” Genji laughs, arms raised in submission. “Between the tea name, and her staunch ‘I have a boyfriend’ I got my answer.” 

“No.” Hanzo corrects him jabbing a finger at his stupid polished chrome chest. “You had to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” He almost felt bad the deflating look crossing his brother’s face. Almost. “Genji-” He sighs running a hand through his windswept hair. “I know you meant well but I can’t mess this up. I can’t.” He pleads. 

Genji frowns leaning forward in his chair. “I just wanted to see what made you so happy…” He hadn’t seen his brother this relaxed-ever. The past months had brought such a change in him. At first, Genji thought that he had finally gotten comfortable with the team. His ever present scowl had relaxed into a more contemplative frown. Still had a ways to go, but at least he's more approachable now. Team dinners and game nights had gotten a new member too. But then he started disappearing for days on end. Not on any missions, not that Genji knew of. His brother's roster was always clear when he disappeared. He assumed that it was old ‘family’ business or loose ends somewhere. But every time Hanzo came back he seemed...lighter. Happy. It was nice to see him treat himself as a person instead of a tool. “I was so excited to see that something, someone brought you some happiness. I apologize for imposing on something so private.” 

Hanzo couldn’t bear to keep eye contact. “I don’t deserve it.” 

Genji huffs indignantly shaking his head. “Nonsense,” Reaching over and squeezing Hanzo’s strong hand. “Redemption comes in many forms, and living a full life is part of it. You deserve a full life Hanzo, truly.” 

A war of emotions crosses Hanzo’s face. They have argued about his grief, guilt so many times before. “I-” Hanzo blinks owlishly, meeting his brother’s stare. His younger sibling’s face a mask of defiant obstinates. Daring him to argue his worth. “Thank you.” He concedes covering Genji’s hand with his free one and squeezes it back. He didn’t deserve this, but he’ll take it for now.

“Excellent!” Genji’s grin returns to full blast moving back to the box of sweets. “I’ll keep it between us- well- and Zen. But you have to tell me allll about her.” He waves his serving knife threateningly. 

Hanzo chuckles, pulling the cookie and suspiciously tiny slice of cake towards himself. It looks like he was here for the long haul.

At least there were snacks. 

[chromemist]

A Chance Encounter

4/16/20

Series: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Lukanette

Warnings: Fantasy AU, minor character death by dragon fire, mentioned poaching/kidnapping.

My birthday fic for @quickspinner ! Happy early birthday! I hope you enjoy my take on happy dragons and mermaids! This is influenced by Quick's fic 'The Sky and the Sea'. Set when they first meet. At least a, my interpretation of it. If you enjoyed this, please go give Quicks fic some loving too!

This was supposed to be an easy trip to the Golden Kingdom. With their reinforced cargo hold laden with piles of gold, paintings, jewels, and other such treasures, they had expected pirates. Pirates were everywhere nowadays. It had become a real nuisance trying to get their little kingdom’s bribe for military aide to the large empire. Multiple attempts with scouting ships had found one way around the continent to be easier. It seemed that many ships steered clear of a dormant volcanic island. At first it was thought to be used by the pirates as a place to maroon others.

Oh, how the captain wished that was true now, as he watched his men scramble for weapons. swords, bayonets, and pistols... Anything to try and scare off their unwanted guest. The large unwanted guest that was currently making their ship dip dangerously low with the extra weight of a dragon. A dragon that was currently completely ignoring his frightened men and was staring at their prized acquisition, laying with her hands chained together in her tank while the sun bounced off golden scales.

'Take the sea devil and leave, please!' the captain pleaded to the dragon in his mind, not daring to speak and gain its attention. The mermaid had been more trouble than worth it when she'd been caught and given to him as a last minute addition to the bribe. Unfortunately, at that moment, a stray bullet bounced off a scale and grazed the sensitive membrane of a wing. With a loud roar, the dragon turned its head and opened its massive jaw. The last thing the captain saw was blazing red shooting from its mouth.

***

It was shaping up to be just another lazy day for Luka on his isolated mountain island. He lay sprawled on an outcropping of rocks, letting the sunshine warm his dark scales. He yawned wide, his forked tongue flopping out as he scrunched up his eyes. He really should go hunting though. It was about time for his next big meal. Although, the local mer clans (pods or schools, they're called pods or schools and he should remember that so his mother doesn't thwack him over his head again) were scheduled for their hunting later today. He could just wait and drop in for his tribute of the hunt; an exchange, plus any gold they found sunk, they offered for his protection of this area.

Not many boats came this way anymore, which was both a blessing and a curse. On the one claw, it meant he was keeping his word and doing a good job. On the other claw, no new treasures for his hoard.

Luka grumbled as he flipped over, letting the sun warm his other side. His poor hoard was lacking. He already had his prized piece; a blue gem his sister had recognized from pictures she'd seen while traipsing around in human form. Apparently, it was cursed, she'd told him. And that's why she should have it, according to Juleka, since she already had bad luck. He had chased her out of his den after that, and she was lucky she was kin or she wouldn't even be allowed back on his island.

Luka tilted his large head and squinted up at the position of the sun. Yes, just about hunting time. He gave a great sigh as he rose up, stretching his wings and tail first, before rolling his rear up to stretch out all four legs. Luka flapped his wings a few times before squatting. Preparing to jump off and begin making his way down to the hunting grounds, he came to a complete halt. A scent wafted by his nose on the breeze as it fluttered through his mane.

He knew that smell. Loved it, coveted it, his very being sang for it. Gold. Luka tilted his head again in the direction of the wind, flaring his nostrils in order to get more of that rich scent. A lot of gold by the smell of it. Luka rumbled deep in his chest as he took off from his perch, following the scent on the wind. He rose up to cloud level, letting his light underbelly and wing membranes camouflage his aerial approach.

As the scent became stronger, Luka spotted a ship. It looked large enough for him to land on. The only problem was a large ship meant more men to run it. He thought to himself, 'Well, that's fine I suppose. As long as-'

He cut off his own thoughts as the ship grew closer, and the inhabitants on the deck grew clearer. Men were milling about, doing whatever it was they did. That's not what caught his attention though, and set his blood boiling. Sunlight was bouncing off a large glass container set on the ship. And inside that container was a bound mermaid.

'Capturing one in MY territory?' He thought angrily. Steam rolled out of his nostrils as his anger rose. 'These men think they can steal from me and get away with it?' Nevermind that merfolk were not a part of his hoard, but they were still his to protect. These men would never live to see the sun again.

Luka tucked his wings and let gravity take him down. Pointing his head towards the boat and letting out a great roar, he came screaming out of the cloud bank. He couldn't hear past the wind whistling in he ears, but he could see the men scrambling around deck. As he got closer, Luka opened his wings, letting them buffer his decent. He couldn't sink the ship, nor could he pick it up. So, he settled for rapidly flapping his wings until he alighted on the deck. He could feel the ship toss and dip with his sudden weight

All around him men screamed and ran. 'Useless fools.' He thought, paying them and their weapons no mind for the moment. He swung his head around, trying to find the glass container. Gold and red flashes caught his attention and he turned, and immediately froze on the spot. His vision zeroed down to only her. He couldn't feel anything hitting his tough scales. Luka rumbled curiously as he looked at her in her container.

The most beautiful mermaid he'd ever seen. Bright reds and golds in the shades of some of his most precious treasures. Extra fins, spines on her tail, back, and arms. Hair as dark as the sky on a moonless night, and eyes as blue as the sea itself. She was exotic, not like the colorful merfolk inhabiting the reefs in his area. More like his mother, beautiful and dangerous. She stared back at him with wide, pleading eyes, raising her bound hands to the glass.

It was at that moment he felt a sharp pain in his wings between the bones. Luka let out a roar, turning his head to where the majority of the men were gathered. Without hesitation, he opened his muzzle wide. He felt the burning rising up his throat from his belly right before the fire exploded from his mouth. Normally he didn't care to kill. A dead human couldn't warn others to stay away from him. But these men, who had stolen and chained a mermaid. These men he relished in burning.

Shutting his mouth and swallowing the remaining fire back down, Luka turned back to the mermaid. He could hear the remaining men screaming and scrambling, but he once again paid them no mind. The mermaid was now huddled at the bottom of her container, wide eyes staring up at him. Thinking she was afraid of him, he lowered his body and tucked his wings, making himself as non-threatening to her as possible. He cooed and rumbled lightly in his throat as he inched closer to her.

'I won't hurt you. I promise, I want to help.' He vocalized, even knowing merfolk didn't really understand his language, and vice versa. He hoped he could portray that in his body language enough. He brought his nose right up against the glass and stared at her. She hesitated a moment, before she uncurled herself and floated closer. She put her chained hands back on the glass, right on the other side of his nose.

Luka looked at her a moment more, just admiring her. Up closer he could see red flecks splattered across her nose and cheeks. The sun brought out the lighter streaks of blue in her midnight dark hair. And her eyes... Still the richest blue he'd ever seen. Not even his most precious gem could compare.

'You're so beautiful. Breathtaking. I could sit and look at you for hours and never tire.' He cooed at her. She tilted her head curiously, feeling the rumbling vibrate into her water, but not understanding. Luka pushed out a wistful sigh. For once, he wished he could use his energy to shift into his human form to talk to her. But that form was useless to him on a burning ship filled with gold, angry men, and a very pretty mermaid.

He shifted his eyes from her, to the open ocean, and back to her. She followed his gaze before looking back at him, confusion written on her face. Luka tried a different approach. He rose up to his full height and pried off the top of her container. The men began screaming again, not about the fire now but him setting the mermaid free. Luka stretched his wings out on either side of him and brought them forward, hiding his head and the mermaid from view. He watched through the rolling water as she huddled down at the bottom, her spines flaring. He simply stuck his nose into the container, hovering just above the water. He jerked his head in the direction of the ocean while still looking directly at her.

The mermaid regarded him for a moment, before slowly lifting herself off the bottom. She clicked and chittered at him, pointing to herself and then to the ocean beyond his wing. He had no idea what she was saying, but her motions made her message clear. Taking a deep breath, Luka plunged his nose into the water, just far enough for her to reach and get a good grip on the ridges of his snout. Retracting his snout, he brought the mermaid up with his head. Water rushed off them and to the deck, but he paid it and the men no mind when the beautiful blue eyes he'd started to fall in love with were staring right back at him even closer now.

Luka's eyes closed halfway as he rumbled at her. 'I wish I could keep you, but I can't. Please be safe my beautiful one.' Her eyes widened and her claws tightened on the edge of the scale she was clinging to. As quickly as he could, he lowered his wings and flipped his head, tossing the mermaid as far into the ocean as he could. He watched as she flew, shrieking and clicking tail-over-head until she hit the water and sank.

Luka looked longingly at the point where she submerged, before turning his attention back to the boat. Now... About his gold...

***

Hours later found Luka slowly making his way back to his island, a corner of a large sheet clutched tightly in each claw. All the treasure from the ship had been laid on the sheet by the remaining men. When the fires had been put out, the last of them had gathered all the gold and jewels from below deck and offered it to him, in hopes that he would leave them in peace. Luka had pondered, briefly, about letting them go. But seeing the now empty container out of the corner of his eye sealed their fate.

After carefully taking off and flying a few feet from the boat, Luka had circled back around and let loose the fire within him. He made sure, this time, to cover the entire ship. He watched as some of them jumped into the water, snorting as he knew that would be hopeless. They were too far from any land. They'd be picked off by exhaustion or sharks.

Luka breathed a sigh of relief when his mountain island came into view. He picked up his pace, just a little, very eager to get his newest treasures settled. As he reached the opening to his den, a flash of gold caught his eye from far below near the edge of his island. Had he dropped some into the water in his haste? Luka would have to go down later and check. If he could smell the gold still, maybe he could fish it out somehow.

Landing carefully on the ledge, Luka began dragging his newest additions in. All of a sudden though, a noise rose up from over the clattering of treasure. He rose to his full height and tilted his head, trying to discern the sound.

Splashing and shrill crying, not uncommon sounds of the merfolk above water. That's what he heard, and hope flared up in his chest, smoke flowing out his nostrils. The flash of gold, was it her? Did she follow him? Excited and hopeful, he dropped his treasures, not caring that they were now scattered all over. Luka took great leaps, making his way back to the outcropping. He skittered to a halt, his wings spreading to buffer him and he gripped the edge with his claws. Dust and pebbles rained down the edge Luka peered down into the water through the dust and, yes! There she was!

The beautiful mermaid he'd saved was in the shallows of his island, slapping her tail, screeching, making all kinds of ruckus to get his attention. Pure joy flooded through him as he rumbled down at her.

'Beautiful one, you're here!' He emitted a small plume of fire and smoke, before launching himself off the ledge. She looked up, her actions and vocalizations quieting. Those clear blue eyes he'd fallen for watched him as he landed in the shallows in front of her. Luka folded his wings, then lowered his body into a laying position and stared at her.

The mermaid regarded him a moment before inching her body forward. She clicked and chittered at him as she moved. Luka raised a brow, before shaking his head and rumbling deep in his chest. The mermaid peered up at him a moment again before opening her mouth once more.

"Can you understand me now?" She asked in the Common Tongue. Luka smiled the best he could and nodded his head. The mermaid sighed in relief, then raised her still bound hands up to him. "Do you know how difficult it is to swim with your hands bound?" She demanded, eyes slightly glaring up at him.

Luka bowed his head, cooing sadly at her to show her he was sorry. He really should have thought of that. He had just been so distracted by her pretty eyes...and dark hair...and colorful scales...okay... He was distracted by all of her.

The mermaid regarded him a moment with scrutinizing eyes before nudging on a lip ridge. "Open up please?" Curiosity piqued his interest, so he did as she asked. She lifted her hands up to a large front tooth and wedged the sharp tip between the cuff and her flesh. "Bite down please?" She asked, closing her eyes and turning her head away.

Luka did as she asked, gently biting down, his sharp teeth cutting through the metal easily. He made quick work of the other, cooing sadly as the cuffs fell into the shallows, revealing the reddened skin underneath. She turned her head back, watching him as he poked his forked tongue out, lapping gently at the wounds.

She giggled, pushing on his snout gently. "It's okay. They'll heal soon. So." She said, sitting up straight, her voice taking on a firm tone. "Can you shift forms? It's a little hard to talk like this. And I'd really like to know the name of my rescue dragon."

Luka nodded and closed his eyes, gathering his energy. He'd honestly been hoping for this. As much as he hated the human form, it would allow him to communicate better with her. A tingling sensation flowed over him as his magic seeped into his limbs and scales, morphing them into skin much like hers. Luka shuddered as the tingling faded, signaling his transformation was complete. When he opened his eyes, he was sitting in the water, knees almost touching her tail.

"Hello beautiful one. My name is Luka." He raised his hand up, holding it open and vertical. The mermaid looked at it, a blush rising on her dappled cheeks. She slid her hand up and pressed it against his.

"I'm Marinette. It's nice to meet you."

Both smiled at each other as their fingers twined, linking them together.

[yuzusorbet]

A beautiful and moving fan account of GPF Torino 2019, by a fan who lives in Turin, Italy.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY ONE

Yuzu is in my town. Yuzu is in my town. I can’t quite believe it: I’m having breakfast and can’t quite believe it, I go out and can’t quite believe it, I get on the subway and… yes, I start to believe it, since I’m surrounded by Poohs. So many Asian women, so many Skate Canada/FaOI/Continue with Wings bags. When I get off, I can feel the thrill: in less than one hour, I’m going to see Yuzu live! In my town! As soon as I reach the Palavela, I meet other fans: some I met last year in Helsinki, some I never met before, but it doesn’t matter. Here we are, all for Yuzu, all with Yuzu, hoping and feeling and praying and focusing for him and with – and that’s something so strong that all the differences between us – country, age, social/economical/cultural status – disappear. It’s just so beautiful (and important) to be here, together, when Yuzuru is skating at the Grand Prix Final. At last. I find a good seat – mine is not bad, but there are better places where I can settle down and watch the practice – and wait for Yuzu. The arena is not totally full but there are many people here anyway: (nearly) all for Yuzu? A roaring, thunderous shout is the answer: YES! And Yuzu has just appeared… alone. Where’s Brian, or Tracy, or Ghislain? Nobody knows, at the moment. He puts his beloved Pooh on the balustrade, then waits for the Zamboni to resurface the ice, and finally enters the rink: he bends down, touches the ice, and takes off. Yes, I can’t find another way to tell what he does: does he skate? For sure. Does he dance? Definitely. But he flies. The impression is there’s always some room between his blades and the ice, an inch of air allowing him to just float. And the noise he makes on the ice is just so different from the noise made by all the other skaters… you could close your eyes and tell when Yuzu is skating just listening to him. But of course it’s so mesmerizing to watch him: when you see him live, you catch something that you can guess even watching his videos, but that is so strong and obvious here. You can call it aura, or charisma: something so overwhelming that I feel blessed and hypnothised at the same time. The practice goes by very fast. Yuzu skates… what to say? He fell a couple of times; he pops a couple of jumps (one at the beginning of Origin run-through); his skating is so graceful, though, and solid, and pure, that no fall and no popped jump can damage its beauty at all. Moreover, he had so many outstanding moments: all his 4S and 4T and 3A; the 4T-euler-3F sequence; an unusual 3A-3A sequence; the 4Lo he lands (majestic)… and the 4Lz he lands (royal)! Really: as soon as I understand he’s going to jump a 4Lz, I cross all of my fingers and clench my teeth and… and he jumps. Cleanly, beautifully. Never underestimate Mr. Hanyu: I’d better remember Brian’s words. Finally, he cools down. A slow Italian song, Di sole e d’azzurro (“Of sun and light blue”) by Giorgia, is filling the arena. Yuzu gets in tune with it and starts his usual sequence: grand pliés, arabesques, ports de bras… in this moment, he really looks, he is Baryshnikov on ice. I don’t know how he can do it, but he’s able to fill my heart with fire and calm at the same time. Maybe it’s “just” beauty, or poetry. Maybe it’s “just” love.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY TWO: SHORT PROGRAM

How hard it is to write today, I’m not even sure I should. I drink some more tea and check my watch: it’s 11 pm. I should work a bit. Maybe writing will heal my heart a bit, though, so okay, let’s start. Let’s go back to Thursday. The day of the short program. I reach the Palavela at 6.15 p.m. I was here for Yuzu’s practice in the morning – and it was so good: my favourite training outfit (black and grey shirt), some stunning jumps (the 4Lutz!), the impression that he’s floating in kind of a bubble of brightness – and now I’m back. There’s no queue and I get quickly into the arena. There are Chinese fans providing small banners to cheer for Yuzu. There are people gathered at the Edea stand, taking picture by a big poster of Yuzu. There’s an Italian man (a volunteer from the Palavela staff, I’d say) giving out pictures of Yuzu, with a long queue of ladies in front of him. And there are so many Poohs, everywhere. I just love this context, this atmosphere, but I can’t ignore the tension that is slowly making its way inside me. A couple of hours and Yuzu will compete. I can’t wait to see him, but at the same time I don’t want to see him. I want to pay my most heartfelt tribute to the most amazing skater in history, but I know I’ll quake with fear. How can I feel like that for someone I don’t even know personally? I think about that bubble of brightness, the sound of his blades, the grace of his arms, the fire in his eyes: of course I can, for someone like Yuzu.

Time to reach my seat and watch the opening ceremony. Time to wait for Yuzu. A presenter who speaks a bad English  – and I wait for Yuzu. Some famous Italian skaters who perform nicely – and I wait for Yuzu. The pairs’ short program – and I wait for Yuzu. Some more minutes. And here he is, for the warm-up. Still alone with his Pooh. Since yesterday , the rumours about Ghislain’s absence are never ending – he had an accident, he’s got problem with his visa, what kind of visa does he need to come to Italy?? – but they end now. Yuzuru is there, and when he takes off his Japan jacket and reveals his costume, he looks like a dream from my childhood: my mother would read me a fairy tale before sleeping, and when I closed my eyes I would think (or dream already) of princes and castles and singing birds and starry nights… and in this very moment, with his costume sparkling like a constellation, Yuzuru is  almost the incarnation of that enchanted realm I envisioned when I was young and innocent, and so happy. And I would probably lose myself into that dream, if I wasn’t aware of the fact that the short program is going to start. Yuzuru will be the last one to take the ice. Before, I watch the other five skaters: Boyang Jin, Dmitri Aliev, Alexander Samarin, Kevin Aymoz – and, of course, Nathan Chen. He’s good but not perfect: his 4Lz looks pre-rotated, the exit from his 3A is a bit problematic, the second jump of his combination is short and definitely not effortless. But he scores more than 110 points. Just a handful of hundredths behind Yuzu’s record. What, how, why? I look at Eleonora, an Italian fan sitting by my side, and I know that my face must show the same feelings displaying on hers: awareness and wistfulness. It’s the same old story, isn’t it? As long as Yuzuru and Nathan do not compete directly against each other, Yuzuru’s scores are way higher than Nathan’s; but as soon as they share the same ice, the scoring system seems to turn upside down. Yuzu, oh, Yuzu … He’s on the ice, taking his starting position. The first note of Otoñal fills the arena – nothing else can be heard, not even the occasional coughing here and there. Yuzu, oh, Yuzu, please… Some steps, some transitions, 4S. Natural like a leaf floating in the tranquil stream of a river. Twizzles, 3A, twizzles. Pure harmony. We all wait for the last jumps, the combination. 4T… and no triple. No triple. Manuela and I look at each other. What score will these judges award to this program? To two perfect jumps, and a perfect step sequence, and perfect spins, and an obvious mistake? The answer comes soon: 97.43 points. 13 points behind Nathan. Can Yuzu still win, with these judges? Because I still haven’t look at the protocol, but it’s clear that he didn’t get the points he deserved for the Salchow, the Axel, the spins. And I’m quite sure that, even if he had been perfect, he would have earned something like 111, or 112 – no more than that. And I am sad. And angry. And I need to talk, to talk a lot, like every time I feel sad and angry. It’s a good thing that I’m not alone in front of my PC but amongst hundreds of fanyus, so we can share our sadness, our anger, and talk, talk a lot: while my friend Paolo and I walk to the subway station, while we find out that the subway isn’t working at the moment, while we call a taxi, while we share the fare with two Germans and a Japanese… …but as soon as I get off the taxi and start walking home, all my sadness and anger calm down. They don’t disappear; they just shrink to give room to something  – someone – much more important: Yuzu. I wonder how he’s feeling  now. Mad at himself, disappointed, too tired to feel anything else than an urgent need to just go to bed and sleep? And Ghislain is not there… Oh, Yuzu, how I would like to do something for you; something useful, not only feeling this dull pain in my chest and complaining about the scores. If only I could, I would give you a hug – to comfort you, to protect you. Or maybe I would take your hand and take you to the Po river. It’s quite close, you know? And there’s a beautiful park, called Valentino, with meadows descending gently  to the water. We would watch the river flow for a while, talking only if you wished to, then I would take you to Fiorio. Have someone told you about this ancient café in the centre of Turin? There are old huge mirrors, armchairs in red velvet, big rococo chandeliers, and a creaking wooden floor; we could sit there, order a hot chocolate or their famous gianduia (hazelnuts +chocolate) ice-cream; and for a few moments, for only a few moments, you could close your eyes, savour that new, creamy taste on your tongue, and forget about those damn 13 points, that damn combo… but probably you don’t want to forget, do you? You want to understand what happened, and why, and plan what you have to do now. Just don’t spend the whole night watching your SP again and again, right? Oh God, I sound like an old auntie. I open the door of my apartment. Sadness and anger are like a faint but constant throb in my stomach. Will I be able to sleep, tonight? I’m not sure, but it’s not so important. What’s important, is that Yuzu can sleep, and Ghislain arrives in Torino, and the judges come to their senses. Have sweet dreams, Yuzu, my wonderboy.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY THREE: QUAD AXEL

Fear. Joy. Worry. Fury. Emotion. What a day, the third day of the Grand Prix Final.  And yet, it was supposed to be a quiet day, for us fanyus: no competition, only some practice. When it comes to Yuzu, though, quietness looks scarily like a storm, and there’s nothing we can do about it: there’s no way to be even remotely prepared to all the ideas, visions, plans and dreams that cross Yuzu’s mind and that he chooses to act out. That’s why I’m more or less calm, when I get to the Palavela. “More or less” because I had a tough night: I kept on tossing and turning in my bed, thinking about the short program, constantly grabbing and turning off my phone – eager to read anything the web could provide me about it, and scared by possible haters and nasty posts.  So now I’m still sad and angry, but also too tired to have very strong feelings: sadness is a dull, feeble pain in my chest, anger a whisper that I try to ignore. I queue, get inside, talk with some friends. A few minutes, and Yuzu appears. Alone with Pooh: so Ghislain hasn’t arrived yet. Gosh, it’s all so wrong. The scores, the absence of Yuzu’s coach… we are in the middle of the Grand Prix Final and there were a bunch of bad omens already. No, I don’t want to be so negative. Yuzu needs to feel, to breath optimism and trust. Think positive, Alessandra; for the sake of Yuzu, think beautiful, think glorious! But it’s Yuzu, the one who’s beautiful and glorious. I always loved all kinds of practices and rehearsals: when some ballet company comes to my town, I always try and ask permission to attend a class, or some rehearsal. I love to see a work in progress, and all the commitment and efforts that artists, dancers and athletes put into their performances. No costumes, no lights, sometimes not even music: just the focus, sweat and love needed to succeed. When practicing, Yuzuru is like that, of course, but he also has – is – something different. The way he can look incredibly focused – and actually a bit dangerous – and turn suddenly into a playful child. The long talks he has with himself. His ability to ignore all the people watching him, just to thank everyone with a deep bow. His unexpected smiles, his gloved fingers pointing here and there while he’s planning and calculating who knows what. The lightness of his warm-ups, the grace of his cool-downs. When you watch him practice, it’s like watching a painter create a masterpiece right in front of you: his (sometimes bizarre) rituals, his methods, some surprises, the development of his work – art coming to life stroke by stroke, bit by bit: and you realize how big the privilege is to witness greatness in the making. So, warm-up. Jumps. No spins (has Yuzu ever done a spin in any practice?). Run-through. Other jumps. And then. He has just tried a new sequence for the free skate, 3A3A; so, when he skates in my direction, I think that he will try that sequence again: oh yes, he’s preparing an Axel. Then he throws himself into the jump and pops it, landing heavily on two feet. Ouch, I hope it was not painful as it looked… he skates around the rink, then again in my direction. Does he want to try the Axel again? He throws himself into the jump and pops it, landing heavily on two feet… Wait. He’s not popping his jumps. He’s jumping like this on purpose. And he jumps so high. Okay, his Axels are always very high, but now he’s really taking off as if he wanted to touch the roof with his fingers! I turn to Lys and Giovanna, who sit behind me. We look at each other, knowingly. Yes. Yuzu is practicing the 4A. As if he wanted to confirm what we’re thinking, he throws himself into the jump again, but this time he doesn’t pop it: he rotates it. One rotation, two, three, four… he lands before completing the last half turn, crashing on the ice. A collective gasp runs through the audience, someone screams, I grab and squeeze Lys’ calf in my hands. Oh God, Yuzu, stop it. Oh no, Yuzu, don’t stop it, let me see it again. No no no, on the contrary, don’t do it, be careful. Well, be careful but try once again… and he tries: another jump, under rotated as well, another fall. The audience is hypnotized. Someone shouts, someone cries, but it sounds like nobody could break the silence surrounding Yuzu. He seems alone now, as if no skater was in the rink but him. He skates in my direction again, and I count every second, one two three four five, until he jumps again. One rotation, two, three, four… and a half. Four and a half. Then he lands and crash on the ice again. But he made it. He has just jumped a quad Axel.

And the Palavela explodes. Shouts, cries, applause, people standing, people frozen in their seats, people scared, people happy, people who don’t fully understand what happened, but we all sense the truth: today, we were so lucky to witness history in the making. The practice is over, and Yuzu exits the rink followed by the loudest applause ever – and the longest too: our jubilation began way before he took his bows. When he disappears, everybody starts talking about his 4A. Someone’s almost mad at him (“I hope his mom is going to slap some sense into him!”), someone’s reverently astonished (“Have you seen the height of that quad? How much it was, about 95 centimetres?”), we all look on the edge of a nervous breakdown. It was supposed to be a quiet day, wasn’t it? But we should have known better than this. Because it’s Yuzu, and Yuzu always wants to climb higher walls, to aim for wider goals; to go beyond the horizon of what is possible for us, normal human beings. And this is one of the reasons why he is who he is; this is one of the reasons why we love him so much. There are winners, but he’s a champion. There are athletes, but he’s a history maker. And I left the Palavela with tears in my eyes, vibrant love in my heart.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY FOUR: FREE SKATE

So here I am, not really ready for… how should I call it? The showdown? Maybe. Who are the main characters in this fight, though? Yuzu and Nathan? Yuzu and the judges, more likely. And I’m not sure it’s going to be a fair fight. No matter if the knight in his shining armour has a marvellous sword made of an outstanding technical value and of wonderful components: his opponent can be petty and play dirty, and only in fairy-tales Good always triumphs over Evil. The free skate is about to begin. The morning has been long and tiring already: we all had to queue in the dark and in the cold before Yuzu’s practice at 7 am (thank God I met some friends, like Petra and Astrid, so that I could talk a bit and I didn’t have to queue by myself, alone and anxious), then there was a collective scream when Ghislain made his appearance in the arena (he’s here! He’s here! FINALLY!!), then… well, then there was Yuzu’s practice, and watching Yuzu live is always an unique experience, no matter what he’s doing: it’s like when you’re a child and for the first time you see something unknown which surprises and bewitches you – Peter Pan is on stage and Tink is going to die, unless you clap your hands and shout: “ I do believe in fairies!”, full of emotions and on the brim of tears… After the practice I went home, walked my dogs, worked a bit: everything just to keep anxiety at bay. Now I should be tired, and probably I am; but I’m too nervous, and I have too much adrenaline running in my blood, to feel tired. I just want to see Yuzu skate. I just want to see Yuzu happy with his performance. I just want to see Yuzu win? Of course: because I want him to be happy, and I know how important for his happiness it is to win; because he’s the best skater in the whole world, and I’d like him to be acknowledged as the king he is. But CAN he win? I’m afraid not. I’m afraid that he can win only if Nathan falls, more than one time and quite hard: not just with his hands or his knee on the ice, but with his whole body… is that what I want? Do I really want Nathan to fail so badly? I wish I could instantly say: no, of course I don’t want it. But I must confess that I can’t, and I hate this unfair scoring system for this reason too: because it awakens the darkest part of me, and pulls out of me my worst feelings and thoughts. I’ve seen so many figure skating competitions, and I’ve always hoped that all the skaters could skate clean – may the best win! Since the 2018-2019 skating season, though, as the new scoring system showed more and more its limits and its unfairness, I found out how hard it is for me to go beyond my own limits, to be fair and good. So, while I’m waiting for the skaters to make their appearance in the arena, I try to think “May the best win”, but I’m not convinced. Nathan, I’m sorry, but could you please fall? Not too hard, okay, but could you undoubtedly, unquestionably fall? Or at least make several obvious mistakes, so that the so-called judges can see who’s the real king of figure skating? Oh, God, I hate myself. I have no time to blame myself, though: the music signalling the beginning of the competition suddenly resounds in the whole arena, louder than ever, and the lights go down. While the speaker is announcing what we’re about to see, there’s a collective start: the skaters are gathered just outside the rink. In the dim light I can’t tell who’s who, I just see some distant heads, but I recognise Yuzu immediately. I can’t see his features very well, but I could recognise him even if he was amongst a thousand people in the dark.  The simple way he stands is so peculiar. So elegant. And when he enters the rink for the warm-up and bows to the audience, he looks so noble and proud: he’s aware that all eyes are on him, all hearts are with him. Is this awareness giving him strength? Or is it a burden? In a moment like this, when there’s so much at stake for him, I would like – I would need – how I should behave to help him as much as possible. Screaming his name until I lose my voice? Clapping my hands politely and nothing more? If only I could know the answer; if only I could be of use for you, Yuzu… …and the warm-up is over. Already? Yes, already. And I cannot watch the first four skaters, not really, because I’m waiting for Yuzu, and skater after skater my heart beats faster and my hands get sweaty and cold. I’m so full of fear, and anticipation, and love. May the best win: may Yuzu win. And there he is. So handsome that watching him I feel my eyes burn like when I try and look at the sun. May Yuzu win. So dear to my heart that I want to see him but somehow I can’t stand seeing him, so I put a hand on my eyes and watch him through my fingers, just like a child watching a scary movie. May Yuzu win… 4Lo: perfect. 4Lz: perfect as well. 3Lz: perfect again. 4S: per-fect… I’m watching the competition live so I can’t see how the judges are scoring each element of Yuzu’s skate, and I don’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse; anyway, so far he’s been outstanding, the judges have to give him very high GOE… 4T+euler+3F. Step out, maybe the 3F was a bit under rotated? Come on, Yuzu. 4T+…2T. He’s tired. But the quad was fantastic. Come on, Yuzu, you can do it, only the sequence 3A+3A is missing… alright, here comes his trademark, the counter back, and then… single Axel. Okay Yuzu, it’s okay, just go on, go on! Last spin. Final pose – and Yuzu can’t take it anymore, he’s so tired that the final pose lasts for less than one second, then he puts his arms and forehead on the ice, gasping for air. This is not an asthma attack, right? For a moment, I gasp for air too. Then Yuzu stands up, and bows to the audience, and I go wild like everyone else here, I scream, I cry, I throw my Winnie the Pooh on the ice, I clap my hand, I lose any awareness of myself – lost as I am in Yuzu, burning with pride and emotion. Yuzu, you made it. Five, five perfect quads, and one was that fated 4Lz. Okay, your skate wasn’t completely clean, but it was so special, and so much more than a simple “skate”: it was so full of humanity, and struggle, and glory. It wasn’t just a performance: it was a tale, and how beautifully you told it. How unforgettably.

Yuzu and Ghislain sit in the Kiss&Cry forever. Considering that picking up all the Poohs took a long while, it’s clear that the judges are having trouble with Yuzu’s score. Why? Why? The first answer coming to my mind flows directly out of the worst part of me: because they are probably looking for elements they can underscore. Oh no, please, no… “The score, please,” the speaker says. And here it is. 194 points. Technical score, 100.36; PCS, 93.64. This is not a score. This is a joke, and I can’t stand it anymore. Because I know, I simply know that Nathan will not only win, but he will set a new world record, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the judges give him higher PCS than Yuzu’s. I’m sorry, usually I’m not so mean; right now, though, I just can’t sit here, be polite and show any kind of sportsmanship. Those so-called judges have just humiliated the most amazing person in the whole world, and I can’t stay here and watch them play their foul game anymore. So I stand up and run out, and to hell this competition and its rules and everything. As soon as I’m in the hallway, I meet other people: some Asian women who don’t want to talk, and two girls from Los Angeles. They’re even angrier than me, and for the three of us it’s a bit soothing to share our indignation and to spit out all the rage we are feeling. If only our rage could be useful, somehow… it isn’t, though: in a few minutes we get to know that, of course, Nathan won, and that, of course, he set a new world record. So I was right, and I couldn’t be less proud of my foresight. Waiting for the victory ceremony is hard. As my friend Jacqueline and I queue at a café, rage gets less and less burning, turning into a heavy burden of bitterness. Will there ever be a way out of this shameful situation? A squad of incompetent (corrupted? Hopefully not) judges, an International Union doing nothing to promote fair competing and judging, and Yuzuru paying the biggest price. The whole queue, the whole Palavela is talking about it, but what for? We can’t change anything. We can only go back to our seats and cheer for Yuzu, make him feel how much we are proud of what he has achieved today – because that’s the truth: no matter how much the judges underscore him, no matter how many times they make him lose a competition, he’s the greatest skater of all time. It’s his technique that coaches refer to when they need to teach their skaters how to do a perfect jump/spin/transition; it’s him the one who always tries new combinations, new moves; it’s him who forced the ISU to change the rules in order to keep up with his greatness; it’s him who yesterday – just yesterday! – showed us that the 4A is possible. Only. Him. Time for the victory ceremony. And what a weird ceremony is this one. Not a single clap for any representative of any skating association, from ISU to the Italian Federation. People clap their hands for Kevin and Nathan, that’s it. For Yuzu, instead… for Yuzu, there’s an acclamation. This is not only a tribute to what he did here: this is a declaration of love and, at the same time, a battle cry. Yes, Yuzu, we love you, and we stand by you, and we will fight as much as we can to make those “experts” - those idiots who presume they have the right to judge you and humiliate you – acknowledge your magnificence. Our battle cry is so loud and never ending that Yuzu himself is astonished, overwhelmed, and points to Nathan as if he was saying “Thank you, but look, he’s the winner”. You are right, Yuzu: Nathan is the winner, yes.  In our hearts, though, you won  so much more than a competition. You came here, you fought your limits and fears (the 4A, the 4Lz, 5 quads plus transitions plus skating skill plus musicality plus grace), and you prevailed. You’re not only a king: you are a warrior king. The arena is full of signs with the writing “Unfair judgment”. For the first time at a competition, I hear boos from the audience. Okay, Yuzu. Let the battle start.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY FIVE: NOTTE STELLATA

It’s 9.30 a.m. and the Pellerina looks peaceful and welcoming. It’s a big park in western Turin, and I came here with my dogs to find some rest. After four days of Grand Prix – four days of Yuzu – I feel like a kaleidoscope: full of whirling colours, hypnotic spirals, and surprising patterns. It’s amazing, but it’s exhausting too. There are three ponds here, a big river and so many trees, and birds. I think you’d like the Pellerina, Yuzu; maybe you’d like all of my town. Its numerous parks, the long tree-lined avenues, the creamy colour of its buildings from the XVIIth and XVIIIth century. I would have loved to be your guide, allowing you to take a break from the mad, unfair competition that this GPF has been. I can’t even start to imagine how much tired you are, and it would have been nice to take you out – it would have been magic to see you here, walking under the trees, looking at the ducks in the ponds, smiling while my dogs play and run freely… but you prefer to stay at the Palavela, don’t you? Walking around the rink where Plushenko won in 2006, looking at the Olympic rings on the wall, chatting with your fellow skaters. Are you rehearsing for the gala? I hope you’re having fun. I check my watch: 10.15; it’s time to go. The gala will begin at 2 p.m., but I want to get to the arena at about 12 and spend some quality time with my friends. Actually, surviving the rollercoaster of this GPF would have been much harder, without all the lovely fanyus around me. Yesterday, after the medal ceremony, some members of our fan group met at the Edea stand inside the Palavela; it was so crowded and narrow and noisy, but ranting all together about the judges, praising Yuzu and taking pictures were exactly the things I needed to forget my sadness for a while, to turn my anger into good energy. Then Jacqueline and I went to Eataly, a famous restaurant and supermarket, and drank our bitterness away, turning quickly from being fans to being friends (and a bit drunk). Then… Eleonora, Petra, Linda, Shuko, Rory, Mara, Astrid, Barbara, and many others with whom I talked so much, inside and outside the Palavela, and stuck together through hope and rage, pain and love. Paolo, my faithful travelling (on many subway trains) companion. Lys and Carolina, who spent countless hours talking and crying and hugging and laughing and cursing with me. All the unknown fanyus in the audience, when we melted into one body with thousands of voices to scream out loud our love for Yuzu. It was a treat, and an honour, to meet so many beautiful people, and I know that as soon as the gala is over – as soon as I say good-bye to them all – I will feel empty, somehow, and alone. I drive back home, feed my dogs, then I’m ready to go to the Palavela for the last time… for the last time? I can’t quite believe it: from tomorrow on, I won’t see Yuzu every day. This week has been tough, but so intense: the thrill of the competition, for sure, but most of all the spell that Yuzu put on anyone watching him. His commitment, the 4A, his beauty, the stunning comeback of the 4Lz… I’m bewitched. And I’m pampered too, now that I’m (almost) used to see him so often: me wants Yuzu every day! The queue is endless as usual – I wait for my turn, apologizing silently to all the people here for how very badly this event was organised – but finally I’m able to get in.  With other fanyus, I wonder which exhibition program Yuzu is going to skate: Haru Yo Koi? Yes, Yuzu must be so tired, he will rather skate something not too physically straining. Masquerade? Well, many of us would love to see it live… some time before the gala, though, we find out that he’s going to skate Notte Stellata. Oh yes, it makes sense: he’s in Italy, in an Olympic venue, of course he has chosen the Italian song he skated to in Pyeongchang. Now that I think of it, it’s always like that with Yuzu: we always try to guess what kind of music/program he will choose for the new season/an exhibition and he always surprises us, even though his choices are perfectly sensible. And I must confess that any choice would be great for me: I’m quite sure I could watch Yuzu doing cross-overs for half an hour and I wouldn’t get bored. Notte Stellata… I never saw it live. Will it be an experience as strong as it was seeing Haru Yo Koi in Helsinki? Yes, it is. So much that, after seeing it, I will forget all the other performances. So much that, while seeing it, I cry. Usually I’m not the crying kind, but watching Yuzu float like a swan on a frozen lake brings tears to my eyes. Yesterday, after the free skate, a friend of mine wrote me this message: “Each movement seems to take him beyond the limits of his human body and to emanate grace and elegance, filling your eyes and lingering in the air even as he glides into a new step”. I also think of what the Olympic commentator said about this program: “With one delayed single Axel and one triple Axel, Yuzuru Hanyu, double gold medallist, just gave a masterclass on what figure skating actually is”. Yes, that’s what figure skating actually is. Going beyond one’s physical limits on a quest for grace, elegance, and beauty. Giving goose-bumps and tears to each and every witness of this travel from what’s known to the unknown, from sport to art. What figure skating actually is, is Yuzuru Hanyu. His last spin goes on and on, even if there’s not music anymore, just like Yuzu will go on and on: in our memory, in our heart, in the history as well as in the future of this sport. And while I scream at the top of my lungs, and clap my shaking hands, I thank Yuzu: for these five days in Turin. For how alive and privileged I’ve felt. For showing me that there can be greatness even in defeat. Ganbatte for Japan Championships and for the rest of your skating season, Yuzu, but don’t worry: somehow, you are always, always, the winner.

--written by Alessandra Montrucchio (in Yuzuru Hanyu International Fan Group on FB), re-posted here with her permission. Pics belong to original owners.

[meditatemoremedicateless]

Gold Can Stay: The First Of Many (epilogue)

Art by @nerdylazorz​

Summary: Max, Chloe, and Rachel reach the end of their journey in LA, but their lives together are just beginning.

In tribute to @raycats and @loveisstrange-vn.

Part 8 of 8 Read the full story on Ao3 or ff.net.

My first time seeing L.A. is . . . not impressive.

We arrive about half an hour before rush hour, but even so, there is traffic into and throughout the city. We drive by an untold number of small businesses and chains until the whole city sort of blurs together. It was like this for me in Seattle too, at first, but without a place to get settled, the feeling never quite fades. The plan is to sleep parked near the beach somewhere tonight, so the three of us agree to eat something and make our way to Santa Monica Pier.

The Pier has all sorts of stuff - a small amusement park and an arcade, for starters - but we don't have much time before closing. Around sunset, Rachel grabs my hand and waves at Chloe, dragging me along swiftly to the Ferris Wheel.

It is sunset by the time the ride starts, and Rachel wastes no time taking my hand and resting her head against my shoulder.

"Tired?"

She nods, nuzzling me. "All this driving's got me wiped. If there's one thing Arcadia Bay's got up on LA it's got to be the time spent cooking in a pickup truck waiting for the car ahead of you to move ten feet."

I let go of her hand so I can wrap my arm around her instead.

"Yeah, you're right. That's the only thing Arcadia Bay's got going for it."

"Yep," Rachel replies, nodding even more emphatically. "Only thing."

I stroke her hair and she leans on me even more, like a cat pressing against my leg.

I ask her, "So, what's it like being back in LA? Is your strength returning? Do you like Fallout Boy again?"

"1) Yes and 2) I never stopped."

She sits up straight, though still so close to me I can keep my arm around her. We're at the height of the wheel and her face turns wistful.

She says, "It's like . . . watching a movie trailer. Being back here on an adventure is more fun than it will really be when I move here, I know that. It's going to be really hard, even with a job to get me started. But all the same, I can't help but be excited to return. To be back home."

Even though I've never lived in L.A., I know what she means. Home is waiting for us here - both the new and different, and the intimately familiar. It's the future.

"I can't wait for a holiday to come and visit you," I say, squeezing her shoulder.

Rachel laughs, warm and sweet. "I haven't even left yet!" she giggles, waving it off. After a beat, though, she says, "By the way, I'm going to get a queen-sized bed, so when you do visit, we can sleep together comfortably. I'm looking forward to more motel-style comfort instead of fighting you for my covers."

I dodge the taunt with an, "Aww, you're sweet," and kiss her cheek. She turns to me for another kiss, long and gentle, and her giggling softens to silence.

A minute later, our foreheads resting together, I say softly, "Be my girlfriend." I had planned to ask, and ask all cute like 'Can I be your girlfriend,' but in the moment I just want to have her, to know that she's choosing me like I'm choosing her.

"Okay," she whispers back, and the instant I see her crack a smile, I kiss her again.

The kissing continues for a long time, my self-consciousness gradually fading away to press kisses to her neck and collarbone. Once we finally pull away to take a breather, I feel the need to blurt out, "Just so, um, you know - I've always wanted to have sex on a Ferris wheel. Not this one specifically, but, um -"

My sentence quickly mutates into meaningless mumbling as Rachel's hand slides from my knee along the inside of my thigh. That draws out a smirk on her face, and she leans close to me like she's going to start kissing my neck. I'm steeling myself against turning into just a puddle of a person when she whispers, strangely husky, "Oh yeah?" right against my ear.

I'm still racing to figure out how to deal with very suddenly wanting to have sex on this Ferris Wheel when the ride stops with us half-way down. The ride is over. It's time to get off go.

Rachel kisses my cheek and leans back as if we were just casually avoiding the ride. "I'll have to bring you back here sometime then, huh?"

I don't think I manage a coherent response before it's time to get off the ride.

We spend most of the next day at a tattoo parlor. Even though I promised Rachel that this is what I wanted to do to celebrate, I hadn't been all that into tattoos until I moved back to Arcadia Bay. Plus, it hasn't even been a month since it became legal for me to get a tattoo!

Despite all of that, I'm the first one to decide on a design I like. I'd been sketching out different deer over the past week, but after I do a few tweaks, I show it to the artist and she assures me it'll be easy enough to do.

I barely bleed, which I take to be a good sign, even if it hurts like hell. I get a small doe on my right shoulder blade, looking up at three stars in the sky. If Chloe and Rachel get why I added the stars, at least they don't say anything about it. Even I think it's a little cheesy.

Chloe's much faster about making up a design than Rachel, and she's in right after me. She shows three designs to the artist, but after mulling it over (and being egged on by Rachel), she decides to get all three design on her forearm - a raven, a blue jay, and a butterfly. She insists she has a good reason for each of them but refuses to explain to anyone 'who isn't her wife' so Rachel and I are just left googling them to get an idea.

Typical of Chloe, the designs are interwoven and complex, so she only gets the outline done, but even that takes long enough that Rachel is finally able to get an idea of what she wants.

Rachel had a bunch of different designs to start with, but once things got narrowed down to animal themes, she started getting creative. She didn't show us the final design (that she pulled off the internet) and insisted we'd just have to find out once it was taking shape.

I don't know why, but I kind of assumed Rachel would be stoic when getting her tattoo - the dragon wrapped around her calf was so large, I figured she must just be immune to the needle. But as it turns out, she's actually a baby about it. A few minutes after they start work on her shoulder, though, she asks me to sit next to her and hold her hand so she'll stay still. She practically crushes my hand over the next hour, but I can't say I mind being relied on for something like this. For a first date as girlfriends . . . it's pretty nice.

Chloe and I take guesses every few minutes at what the design is as soon as we see it has a wing, but since we both wouldn't stop guessing 'Sphinx' we totally missed the griffin until the head was complete.

We emerge that evening from the parlor looking like we got the shit beat out of us and with so little money I need to text my Mom to make sure we'll have food on the trip back to Arcadia Bay, but it's worth it.

I run into Victoria for the first time the day after we arrive home in the shower room before classes start. She spits toothpaste out in the sink and wipes her mouth the second she sees me, and I brace myself for whatever stinging witticism she has ready for me.

She just says, "You burn really bad, Caulfield."

That's . . . fair. I shrug. "I wasn't really born with the sun in mind, I guess."

I'm not really used to seeing her this early, before all the makeup and styled hair. She looks gaunt, but softer. Almost approachable. Almost.

"How was your trip?"

I smile as best I can this early in the morning, scratching the back of my head. I should have brought my bracelets so I'd have something to fidget with during a conversation.

"It was a great time, I think. I got a lot of really great photos and, I mean, it was my first time in California for anything but a stop in LAX. It's beautiful down there."

She shrugs. "If you like the semi-desert, I guess." If it's meant to be cutting, she doesn't put the usual amount of work into making it sound harsh. So much of her usual spite looks drained away - that, or I'm just really off-guard seeing her without makeup.

I'm waiting to go into the shower and she's waiting to leave, but neither of us actually moves to end the conversation. Instead, we stand there in awkward silence for a moment.

Finally, she says, "I actually . . . saw some of what you posted on Instagram. They were, in fact, great shots. Even the candid ones," she rolls her eyes on the word 'candid', but I think she just means 'pictures of Rachel.'

"Thanks," I reply, smile coming a little easier this time. "Have you heard back about your submission to that gallery?"

"Not yet," she says, shaking her head. Then, settling her stare on me, "But don't get too comfortable. Even if I don't make this one, there will be another. I'm going to come out on top once all is said and done this year."

Even if she's trying to be intimidating, the whole thing feels a little too shonen for me to be cowed. "We'll see about that," I reply.

Satisfaction coats her face, and she finally grabs her shower caddy and goes to leave. Just as she reaches the door, she gives a little back-handed wave and says, "Mazel tov, by the way," and is gone before I can say anything back.

There are many firsts on Tuesday, December 24, when Rachel and I sneak off before a Christmas party with her dad and buddies from his band. It's a crisp, cold afternoon, sunset already fast approaching before it's even hit 5pm, and I hope I'll at least have a few minutes of light for photos by the time we reach the light house.

Rachel pauses when we reach the top of the path, and she drops my hand as I pull away.

"How . . . how did that get here?" She asks, pointing at the lighthouse door where my guitar case sits.

"Trickery," I offer, and she follows me cautiously.

"I thought we were here to take photos," Rachel says, eyes narrows with suspicion, arms crossed over her body. She takes a seat on one of the rocks surrounding the fire pit, and I sit across from her, pulling my guitar from the case.

"Oh, we are. I just didn't say what of."

"What of, then?" Rachel asks, even more suspicious now.

"You. But I have something for you first."

"What is it?" she asks, edging into playful hostility. "Some sort of . . . romantic trick? A sneak attack? 'Hey there Delilah?'"

"Close, and don't think I didn't consider playing that song. But no. I, uh. I wrote something for you."

Rachel's face drops into sudden horror. "You didn't."

"I did."

"Max," she whines, "that's way too good of a gift. I'll - I don't know, cry or something."

"Babe," I begin. It works like a charm, leaving her doe-eyed, if still grumpy. "Please let me play my song for you."

She pouts, pulling her legs up close to her torso so she can rest her hands and head on her knees. "Fine."

She looks nervous, and it makes me want to kiss her, but I can't give in yet. Rachel's so beautiful and sweet that it's hard to ignore, but at the very least, I can channel my frustration at not touching her this very instant into playing.

I strum the keys and tune the guitar one last time, and then begin.

Ashes to the ground Fall the wrong way round World upside down I know I know

Home a distant time Smoke ore clearer skies Everybody lies I know I know

In every way you do More than I could say you knew And life is so strange it's true But so are you

She sits eerily still, eyes trained on me. There's no smile or anything like I expected, but soon she buries her face into her legs with her eyes closed. I don't know what to make of that, but I keep playing.

I will play the game I will take the blame I will break the same I know I know

In every way you do More than I could say you knew And life is so strange it's true But so are you

Ashes to the ground Fall the wrong way round I will let you down I know I know

In every pause you knew Take my breath away, you do And life is so strange it's true But so are you

It's not until the song is over that I can finally hear what I was missing. Softly, softly Rachel cries, and as soon as I hear it, I drop the guitar along the side of a rock. She looks up as I approach, wiping the tears off her face.

"Baby - baby what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Rachel looks up at me, taking a few seconds while she struggles for words. After a second, she forfeits even that, and reaches up, cupping my face with her hands, pulling me down into a kiss.

"I - I told you I'd cry, dammit." She sniffles as we rest our heads together.

A feeling of awe fills my chest, warm and radiant. Not as energetic as electricity, but just as intense. Something new.

"I love you," she whispers.

It's the first time. And not for a second do I doubt it.

It's the first time, and I'm shaking. The cold wind from the light house makes a good excuse, but just the process of peeling off my clothes in front of her is what really makes me tremble. I haven't been topless in front of someone since I was a child, and the feeling of Rachel's hands on my sides are something totally new. She strokes my back while we kiss until the shivering stops, although it comes back in bursts every time she finds a sensitive spot on my skin with her hands or mouth.

That feeling of wonder refuses to leave, and I'm enveloped in it. I've never had what I'd call a 'religious experience,' but if I were to imagine a feeling of holiness, it would be this.

I don't know how many times I say 'I love you,' but it's too many to count.

The weeks after Rachel leaves are the loneliest I've had since I moved to Seattle, and Chloe is right there with me. We try to keep up our regular hang-outs, and when that fails, we try reverting to old habits. After about an hour of doodling on scraps of paper (and Chloe's bedroom floor) with songs autoplaying from her computer, a familiar track comes on. She sighs seconds into the song and rolls onto her back, and I follow suit a moment after.

"Rachel's alarm?"

She nods, "Yeah," patting at her vest pocket for a second. "God that makes me want a cigarette."

"Out?" I ask, reaching up towards the ceiling. The bracelet Rachel made for me isn't as brilliant in the dark of Chloe's room, but it's still pretty.

Rachel lifts her hand up as well. She's wearing a blue and white bracelet I feel like I haven't seen in a long time, or like I've only seen it in old photographs.

"I'm trying to quit, actually."

"Oh, for real?" I roll on my side, and Chloe drops her hand back onto her chest.

"Yeah. I mean, that stuff will kill ya, you know."

I place my hand on top of hers, more than a little happy and very lonely. "Proud of you."

Chloe doesn't respond; all she does is close her eyes and smile, waiting for the song to finish playing.

Anon asked: if youre cis why are you talking about trans issues on the internet. these arent about you. stop being a transphobe and shut the fuck up.

Every part of that makes my blood boil, and I'm not entirely sure why. I just know to the core of my being that they're wrong, even though I've expressed similar sentiments before. I don't particularly care what cis people have to say about trans issues online. But I've thought about this so much, I know it's not just something I made up on the spot. Is that what's really pissing me off, or is it . . .

noirangel: look, I get that you have good intentions behind being mean to me on Tumblr, but I'm going to need you to stop. I provided sources where I could, and drew from the experiences of trans people I know, including myself, wherever I couldn't. I'm not shutting up because these are my real, lived experiences, as well as those of people around me, and I don't appreciate this shit in my ask box just because you want me to be quiet. Please fuck off.

Holy shit. I said it. I really said it.

I'm not sure what to do next. I just typed it out online - can I just leave it like that? Does saying it one time make it true? How do I really know I'm trans?

This deteriorates quickly while I rapidly refresh my blog, waiting to see if there's any reaction to what I said. The first response I get is just a like, but even that feels like a breath of fresh air. The first person to see this, at least, didn't reject me. That's something. But there's someone I'm a little more concerned about than random people on the internet.

Max: hey hon, i've got kind of a weird question. Max: do you think you would still be interested in me even if I weren't a girl?

I expect a lengthy pause, maybe lots of suspicious questions.

Instead, Rachel responds after about thirty seconds with:

Rachel: yeah babe lol Rachel: ur hot and i love you Rachel: why?

God. God, I love her.

Max: haha I was just wondering. Max: I love you too ^^

I drop my phone onto my chest and let out a sigh of relief. That's not quite coming out just yet, but the security for one day is all I need right now.

Our first fight wasn't something I expected at all - I hadn't even realized at first we were having it. It clicked right around,

Me: Do you seriously think I'm cheating on you? Chloe and I are your best friends Rachel, we wouldn't just choose to blow everything up just because you're living away.

Rachel: I know, and I'm not saying that. And it's not like I think you would have chose to do anything, but things happen, you know? Maybe just one time when she was drunk or - or something.

Me: But we seriously didn't.

Rachel: I - o-okay. Fine. If you say so.

Me: Rachel.

Rachel: What, Max?

Me: Look, I get where you're coming from, but I'm seriously capable of making choices around these things. I don't just fall into romantic or sexual situations by pure accident - it doesn't really work for me that way. And if I thought something were going to happen between me and Chloe, I'd talk to you about it. Because I seriously, really wouldn't want to blow up our relationship because my relationship with Chloe has been changing.

Rachel: Has it?

Me: What?

Rachel: . . . been changing.

Me: Oh my god! No! Because I made conscious decisions against it. Please trust me.

Rachel:

Rachel: . . . you're right

Me: Hon, are you crying?

Rachel: Um . . . yeah, sorry, a little. It just, um.

Rachel: Sorry. I just realized none of this shit is about you, exactly. I'm expecting a lot of my own mistakes out of you and that's - that's not fair.

Me: What do you mean?

Rachel: I don't think I've ever been very . . . uh . . . forthcoming with you about what my and Chloe's relationship was like before you came back to Arcadia Bay.

Rachel: We, um . . . so. We were dating, I guess. We never made it super clear, but it was definitely a romantic thing.

Rachel: I loved her.

Me: I know.

Rachel: Did Chloe tell you?

Me: No. Do you remember that night in the motel in San Francisco, right before we started dating?

Rachel: No? Wait, yeah. Shit. Did you hear us talking?

Me: Yep.

Rachel: Well, fuck.

Rachel: Well, yeah. We were together. But we weren't very good at it. I know Chloe blames herself a lot for how it all fell apart, but if we're being honest, I think I was sabotaging it from the start. Chloe loved me so much and it really scared me - like I wasn't worthy of it or I'd mess it all up. Or something. So I made . . . sure of it. And I cheated on her. A lot. And I'd tell myself it was accidental, or that we weren't officially together so it didn't really count, and, just, stupid stuff like that.

Me: That's . . . pretty messed up, sweetie. But I think I get it.

Rachel: Yeah . . . you remember Frank?

Me:  Your ex?

Rachel: Yeah. I started seeing him while Chloe and I were still together. She never actually figured out who I was with, but once she realized I'd cheated on her, she blew up. And things were a total mess for a while, until I stopped seeing Frank and put things back together. And that's . . . right around when you moved back. And . . . we just never really talked out everything that happened.

Me: That . . . makes my first year back make a lot more sense.

Rachel: Yeah.

Me: And to be clear, I think you really messed up.

Rachel: I know.

Me: But I know Chloe doesn't hate you for it, and I don't hate you for it. But I know she's confused and hurt, still. She loves you.

Rachel: I know.

Me: I love you, too.

Rachel: I love you, too, hon. And . . . I. I miss you.

Me: I miss you, too.

Rachel: I miss Chloe too. Not just right now but . . . these past two years. Ever since you came back, it's felt like she's had eyes only for you, and I've been stupid jealous. It made being friends with you complicated, in the beginning. For a lot of reasons.

Me: I can definitely understand that. I'm not mad. We found our own rhythm - eventually.

Rachel: Ha! Just in time, too.

Rachel: Please don't tell Chloe that I miss her. I want to work things out, but it's still too . . .

Rachel: I'm still not ready.

Me: I won't say anything, I swear.

Rachel: You swear?

Me: I swear! I just said so.

Rachel: Okay. I love you. I'm sorry I dragged you down into all of my feelings like this. You're not me.

Me: I love you too. And you're not who you used to be either, Rachel.

Me: Let's . . . in the future, when something like this comes up, let's just talk, okay? I know things between the three of us are complicated, but I think we can make it work. I super believe in us.

Rachel: We're star-crossed, huh?

Me: Totally, actually bound by celestial forces.

Rachel: Even if we weren't, I'd still choose you, you know.

Me: You sap. I love you.

Rachel: I love you, too.

Our graduation is out on the football field across from the main school buildings, with about 100 chairs set out for students and faculty while families sit on the bleachers. It's uncomfortably hot, and most of the students are actively shading themselves with their mortarboard if they think they can get away from it.

Principal Wells clears his throat and says, "And now, we'll be hearing from our Salutatorian, Kate Marsh."

Kate graduates as our Salutatorian thanks to her taking 1 less AP class than Warren, and her speech is the one I'm really interested in hearing. Not that Warren's wasn't good exactly, it's just that he had me look it over a half-dozen times because "you're good at English" even though I scraped by the minimum GPA for college acceptance. Kate has been guarding the content of her speech carefully for months, but knowing her, she probably outlined its entire structure and theme months ahead of time before submitting a totally different speech a few weeks ago.

Kate walks slowly up to the podium, although she and the other students giving speeches are seated only a few paces back from it. She takes a few seconds to look at the paper with her speech, looks up at the audience, takes a deep breath, and smiles.

"I'd first like to say thank you - thank you to Blackwell Academy's staff and faculty, for the exceptional education and facilities you provided to us as students; thank you to my classmates for making this school the most challenging and rewarding year of my life; thank you to my family for supporting me this year and every year until now; and thank you to my friends for making Blackwell my home away from home.

I would like to speak frankly about my high school career. When I say it was challenging and rewarding, I do not mean that just intellectually, or, as those of you who have been through high school might say, socially. I've suffered from depression for many years, most acutely since I entered high school. It wasn't that I was bullied or had exceptional struggles in my life; my brain just ticks a little differently than others. When I came to Blackwell Academy, I lost the familiar things that kept me standing, and even with the excellent instruction available to me here, I couldn't imagine getting through this school year. I guess you could say it was a dark time for me.

But there was light here, and it reached me. My teachers were a light - they treated me with kindness and dignity, and helped me continue my work even when there were days I couldn't make it out of bed. My friends were a light - they stood by me, listened to me, supported me, and loved me. My faith, which had never connected closely with my school life before I came here, was a light I shared with many people, some of whom had the same background as me, but most did not. All of these lights showed me the way forward, even when it was slow and stumbling."

Kate pauses, as her voice is shaking too much to speak coherently. She takes two deep breaths, and continues.

"The kindness I was shown as a student at Blackwell was the most meaningful thing I found here. It gave me hope. Hope not necessarily that I would get better - I do not know if I will ever simply 'get better' from depression - but hope in kindness's power to shine a light, to cast out the dark. To make the world better, even on the smallest scale.

I cannot guarantee that this is what we all found here - our senior years were nothing if not messy, complicated, and different. But I know that this light is precious, and that I will take it with me from this place. It will continue to guide me forward, and I hope that I can be a light for others through kindness and compassion. I want to help make a world where there is always a light there - that if you reach out, there will be happiness waiting for you. I won't be alone for trying. I know that, at least. And a few other things, as I did manage to do pretty OK in school by the end."

Victoria is sitting two seats down from me, and I think she's the only person who doesn't laugh at that. She's made-up, flawless, and sad. We never really became close, and right now, I regret that. I think it's easy to regret the things you did or could have done at the end of the year.

I wonder what Victoria regrets.

"This really has been the most rewarding year of my life, but I think the best one is still to come. Thank you."

Kate bows her head for a moment at the audience as the class and families erupt into applause, then walks away from the podium.

It's some time still until we all throw our hats in the air to conclude the ceremony, but no sooner has mine gone flying than I'm out of the row of chairs and running straight towards her.

"KATE!"

"MAX!"

She holds her arms open and just sinks the impact as I barrel into her, doing my best to crush her with a hug. Luckily for us both, my upper body strength is pretty pathetic.

"You're amazing!"

"No, you're amazing!" she yells right back even though we're 0 inches apart. "And thank you!"

"NO, THANK YOU! That was such a good speech and-"

She shakes her head. "No, come on, weren't you listening?" She drops her hands from around me and takes my hands. "Thank you. Seriously. I love you."

I beam, and squeeze her hands. "Am I your light?"

"Yeah," she answers without hesitation, and I blush.

"Oh, shit, um, I was teasing you, I thought you would say something witty and now I'm, uh-"

She's pleased, wiggling a little bit at my discomfort. "C'mon, say you love me back; I'm like, super anxious right now."

"I love you. You're the best." It feels so good to say that, but I'm doing my best to not fall in love with her at such an inopportune moment.

"Second best, but I think that's probably good enough," she says, pulling me back into a hug. "Stay in touch, okay? No getting so distracted with LA you forget about me."

"I could never, Kate Marsh."

It's some months later that I come home from class to find Chloe sitting on the couch at our new apartment, watching How It's Made with the volume about as low as it can go while still being audible.

"Hey Chloe," I greet her, dumping my backpack near the door.

She turns and waves, only mouthing a 'hello.' Curious, I walk over to find Rachel asleep on the couch with her head in Chloe's lap, curled up so she can fit.

"Oh, there's my beautiful girl," I croon, crouching down in front of them and stroking Rachel's hair. She stirs at the touch, but does not wake up.

"She fell asleep like an hour ago; I've been too scared to move her, like a cat," Chloe whispers.

"I understand."

A minute passes while I pet Rachel and Chloe idly strokes her arm with her thumb, and even though I'm exhausted from the day, I feel light.

"I'm so fucking happy." I sit cross-legged in front of the couch, no intentions of stopping what I'm doing anytime soon.

"Good day at class?"

I shake my head. "Mediocre day. But my life is . . . well. I kind of love it."

Chloe doesn't say anything, only closes her eyes and smiles. For a second, I think I see Rachel smiling, too, but she only nuzzles my hand before falling back asleep.

Art by @cahlart​

[stahlop]

Once Upon a Time 2x02 “We Are Both” Review

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Lots of new information and growth happening in this episode. The inhabitants of Storybrooke can’t leave without losing their real memories. Young Regina banished Cora to Wonderland. David became the prince everyone knew he could be. Regina finally realized that magic was not the answer to her problems.

Summary: In the Enchanted Forest young Regina contacts Rumplestiltskin to help her with Cora. In Storybrooke the town is looking to David to help them move past the curse and the dwarfs discover that no one can cross the town line without losing their true memories.

Opening: Enchanted Branches

Character Observations:

Young Regina/Regina: It is two days before young Regina is to wed Leopold and she is trying to escape. Why doesn’t she just go to Leopold and tell him she doesn’t want to marry him? Or have her father tell him? Is she that afraid of Cora? She’s certainly not afraid enough to try and run away. She just about makes it when enchanted branches pull her off her horse. Cora created a barrier spell so couldn’t leave the kingdom without Leopold. Young Regina goes off again about how she doesn’t want this life and Cora says she’s just afraid of the power. Young Regina is adamant that she does not want power and just wants to be free. Cora tells her power is freedom. Young Regina is with Snow putting a flower crown into her hair and acting like the wonderful stepmother she should be. Snow discovers Daniel’s ring and young Regina has a daydream of telling Snow that it was from Daniel and that he’s now dead because Snow couldn’t keep a secret and strangles her with the ring. Whoa! Young Regina actually does look distraught at this when she’s awakened from this by Snow asking where she got the ring on a chain. Young Regina says she doesn’t remember. Young Regina is crying to Henry, Sr. about how Cora is trying to turn her into her. She wants to leave. Henry, Sr. says it’s just cold feet, but young Regina is upset because she doesn’t want to marry the king. She is angry all the time and Cora is making her crazy. She just wants her own life, not Cora’s. She asks her father how Cora got like this. Henry, Sr, says it was a man who wasn’t quite a man, that brought magic to Cora and gave her a book of spells. Which then prompts young Regina to steal the book from under a sleeping Cora’s pillow. Young Regina summons Rumplestiltskin (while hilariously mispronouncing his name), and he arrives being all uber creepy telling her he’s been waiting for them to be together for a long time. He knows who she is and young Regina figures it’s because he knew Cora. She says she’s been told she looks like her mother when she was younger and seems pretty proud of this (despite how much she says she doesn’t want to be like her mother), but Rumplestiltskin says he doesn’t see it, which disappoints her. He knew her as a baby and wants to know what she wants. He guesses power, death of enemies, and death of friends. Young Regina claims she doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Rumplestiltskin senses much power in her and that she could do so much if she let herself. I’ll give young Regina credit, she is not at all creeped out by this gold, sparkly creature, who may not be entirely human touching her. Maybe it’s because he sees her for who she is, or maybe she knows it’s the only way to get Cora out of her life, but kudos to her for not shivering when he touched her face like I wanted to. Rumplestiltskin gives young Regina a gift and offers to teach her magic. Regina refuses, that’s what Cora does. Rumplestiltskin says the beauty of his gift is that it does the magic for her. It’s a portal and young Regina just needs to give Cora a little push. Young Regina isn’t sure if she can do it. It is now the wedding day and Regina is looking lovely in her wedding gown (and her hair looks much better than it did during her dress fitting in The Stable Boy). Cora sees the gift that Rumplestiltskin left and what’s to know what it is. Young Regina says she doesn’t know. Cora unwraps it and sees it’s a looking glass and comments to young Regina that it’s very impersonal and wonders if the people actually love her. Young Regina is offended at this comment and tells Cora she is doing her best. Cora does apologize, then brings her over to the looking glass. She tells her that the king isn’t strong. She needs to raise the tributes, form a person queen’s guard, and let everyone know where the new power lies. Young Regina will hold the hearts of her people in her hand (well, she’s not wrong). Young Regina asks Cora if that’s what she would do. Cora says yes and young Regina says she doesn’t want to be Cora. She turns around to push Cora but Cora stops her with magic. Cora is rambling on about how she’ll be stuck with her forever when young Regina sees Rumplestiltskin appear in the looking glass and he prompts her to push her. Young Regina rebels against the magic and pushes Cora through the looking glass. Once through, the glass shatters. Young Regina looks at her hands wondering what she’s done. Young Regina is leaving the kingdom again (did she tell anyone she was leaving this time?) but Rumplestiltskin stops her. She gives him back the book. He wants to know how she felt using the magic. She starts to tell him she loved her mother, but that isn’t what she asked. Young Regina says she’ll never use magic again because she loved using it. She looks like someone who has tried drugs for the first time and loved the feeling of it, but knows it’s bad and doesn’t want to use it again. But Rumplestiltskin is a pusher if we’ve ever seen one. He says he’ll teach her magic. Young Regina wants to know what he gets out of it. He says someday she’ll do something for him. Young Regina doesn’t want to become Cora. Rumplestiltskin says that’s entirely up to her.

And as we have learned, Regina did become exactly like her mother. We see exactly what extent she will go to, to keep Henry in her life. David goes to see Regina to learn about the hat. Regina thinks he’s pretty brave after their last encounter, but David thinks her magic was an anomaly and that if it was really back, the town would be charcoal. He tells her the only thing keeping her alive right now is Henry. Regina is all bluster and fury until David mentions Henry, then her soft side comes out. And then it immediately goes right back to anger when David asks about the hat. She lies to him about not remembering where she got the hat and then turns on David asking him why he’s not taking care of Henry. David gets snarky about how she took such great care of him and Regina says she can’t listen to someone who shipped their daughter to Maine (Regina, that was your fault!). David takes the high road and refuses to keep the snarkfest going and asks how he can get to his family. Regina reminds him that they were sent to nothing and that if she does get her magic to work to help him, everyone would be charcoal as he said. David calls her out on being frustrated and that she earned every bit of this. Go David! She says right now she doesn’t have magic and she doesn’t have her son but when she gets one she’ll get the other. David says if she needs magic to keep Henry then she doesn’t really have him. That resonates deeply within Regina. God, the look on her face! It’s so subtle. It’s barely and eye and lip twitch that shows just how much that statement hurts her, but, god it’s brilliant! Regina tries to work her magic but the candle she’s trying to light will not stay lit. She goes to leave her house, heeding David’s warning to be careful. She encounters Archie on the way to her car. He wants to talk to find out who she truly is but she knows who she is. Regina goes to Gold’s shop to find her mother’s book. Gold tells her this isn’t a library. He knows what book she’s looking for and taunts her with needing her mommy’s help. Regina needs the books to get Henry back. He tells her that maybe if she relaxed it would just happen. Regina doesn’t have time. She’s like a strung out addict right here. She wants the shortcut instead of waiting around for her magic to return. Gold asks her to leave, please, but now that the curse is broken, his pleases don’t work anymore. And Regina is thrilled about that. He tells her giving her the book isn’t in his best interest and she says it’s not in his best interests for everyone else to know the EF still exists! WHAT! So she knowingly sent the wraith to the EF knowing it still exists! Damn, Regina, you cold. She knows he’s up to something and fingers the suitcase he has laid out.  Gold stops her from opening it and produces the book out of thin air. She follows it with her eyes, a moth to a flame. Gold warns her that the book can be a shock to her system. Regina doesn’t care. She heads out the door and Gold tells her that she looks like Cora. She is not happy about that remark. Regina is holding the book by her apple tree. The apples are all black, just like in the dream she had in An Apple Red as Blood. She blows the spell off the page and inhales it to get the magic (very drug-like visual here). Her eyes flash purple and the apples become their vibrant red color again. The townspeople are gathered at the town hall for David’s speech, but he is not there. Regina is though. She walks in all sassy. Archie and Leroy attempt to stop her, but she flings them away with magic as if they weren’t anything. Granny sends an arrow at her, but Regina catches it, sets it on fire and sends it back towards the crowd before it sets the seal behind her on fire. The bitch is back! Ruby is the only person brave enough to ask Regina what she wants, but Henry already knows that it’s him. He agrees to go with her if she’ll leave everyone else alone. And once again, her facial expressions are just amazing. She has this wistful, yet prideful look on her face when Henry says he’ll come home with her, and then it immediately changes to an ‘I won’ face as she walks out with Henry, along with a snide look at Granny for trying to shoot her with an arrow. And then we see delusional Regina. She’s so happy that Henry came home with her and starts prattling on about how things won’t be going back to the way they used to be. I hope not, she previously made him think he was crazy. Henry immediately starts trying to escape and Regina stops him by enchanting the branches to catch him. Like mother, like daughter. Regina says she’s keeping him a prisoner because she loves him. Henry tells it like it is. Thank goodness he doesn’t have a filter. She’s ruined lives, she sent Emma and Mary Margaret away. Regina makes sure he knows that was an accident (was it?). Henry says the way she treated him wasn’t an accident, that he made her feel crazy. Regina is trying to justify everything. It will be different now. She can teach him magic. Invite his friends over and show them his book. Henry says no one will come over here because they’re all afraid of her. This gives Regina slight pause and then she says he can make them not be afraid and love him. Henry says he doesn’t want to be like Regina. Her happiness falters. Regina is finally beginning to realize that karma is a bitch. David comes (with a sword) to see Henry. Regina decides that Henry can go home with David. She doesn’t know how to love very well and that if you hold onto someone too hard it doesn’t make them love you. She apologizes to Henry. She wants him to be there because he wants to be there. She wants to redeem herself. She’s showing real growth and emotion here. David wants her to prove it. Does the EF still exist. She tells him the truth, it does, but she doesn’t know how to get there. She asks David to please take care of Henry while he’s figuring out how to get to the EF. David and Henry leave and Regina is left alone. Regina goes to throw the book into the fire, but decides to keep it instead, locking it in her safe.

David: Well, David is learning that he is not the leader that the people need him to be. He comments that Snow was the one who made speeches and he was basically the muscle. The town is in shambles and everyone is looking to David, as their prince, for what to do. David is at Regina’s trying to find out about the hat. She’s angry so she doesn’t tell him much. They snark at each other and she tells him she will get her magic back and then she’ll get Henry back. David tells her that she doesn’t really have Henry if she has to use magic to keep him. David goes to the middle of town to look for Mother Superior. Everyone is asking him questions (Whale is hilarious asking if the nuns are still nuns or if they can date). He asks Mother Superior if there is another magic tree on this side that could get him to the EF.  She has no fairy dust so she has no way of knowing. Leroy comes in yelling ‘terrible news’ (does he ever yell about good news?). If you cross the town line you become your cursed identity with no memory of your EF self. David is completely overwhelmed. Everyone is talking at once and expecting him to fix things. He tells everyone to meet at the town hall in two hours and he’ll tell them his plan. David is just buying time to think of a plan. Maybe you should have asked them to come the next day if you didn’t have a plan, David. He is practicing his speech in front of the mirror but it’s not going well. He pulls out the hat and Henry looks it up in the book. Figures out it belongs to the Mad Hatter. Henry thinks David knew him in the EF but he says cursed David read “Alice in Wonderland”. David leaves to go find him, leaving Henry home alone. He goes to Gold to get some sort of spell to find someone. Gold wants to know who he’s looking for and what the object is but David’s playing the same game Gold was previously and won’t tell him. Gold gives him a locator potion in exchange for non-interference from David, more specifically, from Charming. David wants the same guarantee. David pours the potion on the hat and at first he thinks it didn’t work. His phone starts buzzing and he’s just about to answer it when the hat starts flying. It leads him to an overturned car and Jefferson just happens to be stuck inside. David asks Jefferson if he can get the portal to work. Jefferson says no. He’s a portal jumper and there is no more portal. David is getting desperate. He threatens to lock up Jefferson until he figures out a way. Jefferson says they’ll be waiting forever. He does say that the EF is still there, which gives David some hope. Jefferson waxes poetic about living two lives and David thinks about this and Jefferson upends the table and runs. David goes after him but is stopped by Ruby. She lets him know that Regina has Henry. At first David doesn’t seem to care. He just wants to go after Jefferson and find Emma and Mary Margaret. He finally realizes what Ruby is saying to him; that Regina has her magic back and she took Henry. She also tells him that the townspeople are planning on leaving town and losing their memories on purpose. Somehow, David manages to get ahead of the line of cars heading to the town border. He gives a great speech about losing themselves if they leave and they are now both and they need to be both to continue. They are the strengths and weaknesses of their real and cursed identities and they need to embrace it. He also says he’ll protect them from Regina. Everyone is happy with this. David goes to Regina’s with a sword (because a sword will protect him from magic?) and demands to see Henry. She tells Henry he’ll be going home with David. She sends Henry upstairs to get his stuff after saying she wants to redeem herself, and David wants her to prove it. He asks if the EF still exists and she tells him the truth. She also says she doesn’t know how to get there and to please take care of Henry while he figures it out. David takes Henry to Granny’s and he tells Henry the EF still exists and he can just feel that Emma and Mary Margaret survived.

Rumplestiltskin/Gold: Rumplestiltskin is a real creeper in this episode. He comes to young Regina after she summons him. He tells her he’s been waiting for them to be together for awhile. Eww. He wants to know who he can hurt or kill for her. Young Regina doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He finds it hard to believe she’s from the same family as Cora. He does have an almost orgasmic look when he senses her power. So creepy! He offers to teach her magic and tells her magic can set her free. Young Regina doesn’t want to use magic. The gift he gives her will do the magic for her. She just needs to give Cora a little push. Rumplestiltskin appears in the looking glass when young Regina is arguing with Cora. He prompts her to push Cora in. He disappears when young Regina breaks from Cora’s magic and manages to do just that. He stops Regina when she tries to leave. She gives him Cora’s book as a gift but he says you can’t gift something that was his to start with. He asks young Regina how she felt using it. She deflects the questions but then admits, quite heartily, that she enjoyed the magic. He wants to teach her magic because she could do so much more. Young Regina wants to know what he gets out of it. Someday she’ll do something for him. Young Regina doesn’t want to become like Cora. Rumplestiltskin says that’s entirely up to her.

Gold is trying to leave Storybrooke and not having an easy time of it. First Regina comes in looking for Cora’s book. He makes her feel inferior for needing her mommy’s help. He says that maybe she just needs to relax and it will happen. I got some real sexual predator vibes when he said this. Yuck. He tries to get her to leave by saying please, but the curse is broken so the please clause doesn’t work anymore. He’s getting annoyed. Gold tells Regina that helping her get her magic back isn’t in his best interests. She threatens to tell people that he knows the EF still exists (wouldn’t that incriminate herself too?), so he conjures up the book. He tells her she finally looks like Cora. David comes by the shop. Gold attempts to make small talk and ask what the commotion was outside. David says there was a stir at the border, a problem crossing the line. Gold wants to know what that is but David wants some magic. Gold gets to see how frustrating it is when he won’t offer info to others when David does a dead on impression of Gold when getting the potion he needs to track down Jefferson. His payment is non-interference. They both stay out of each other’s way. As David leave, Gold asks what is the problem with the border. David tells him they’re stuck in Storybrooke, because if they leave they lose their EF identity. Gold is pissed and smashes some of his display cases with his cane. It ends with Gold at the border looking pissed off. We know he is wanting to look for his son, and now he’s trapped. I’m sure Regina will be the one paying for this.

Emma and Mary Margaret: They are prisoners of Mulan and Aurora. They are tied to Mulan’s horse and walking behind it. They are taken to the safe haven. Mary Margaret takes an opportunity to knee Aurora in the gut and she and Emma take off running. Mulan throws a boleadora (yes, I had to look that up) and knocks Snow out. They are taken to the pit. And wow! It is so convenient that Snow is knocked out, because who else happens to be down there with them but Cora. 

Questions:

Why would Marco put up a poster of Pinocchio as a boy? Surely he realizes that Pinocchio would be grown up now since he left before the curse.

Does Cora’s magic not work beyond the borders of the kingdom? Why does she think she’ll be free once out of the kingdom?

Why did Regina close the library? When was it ever open?

How long was Jefferson stuck in his car? The wraith came at night and it’s at least mid-afternoon the next day.

Wasn’t Jefferson’s curse that he didn’t have a cursed persona? He knew everything and just had to watch from his mansion above? Why is he going on about two lives?

Isn’t one of the rules of magic that you can’t make someone love you? 

It’s been, what, a month maybe since Daniel died? Why would the people love young Regina yet? Has Cora been campaigning on her behalf? Do the people of the kingdom know anything about her besides the fact that she’s marrying the king?

Was Cora planning on offing Leopold at some point? The advice she gives young Regina makes it sound like the king wouldn’t be around for long.

Why does Regina ask Cora if the advice she gives her would be what Cora would do? Why else would Cora suggest it if it’s not something she would do herself?

Why did Cora feel the need to stop Regina with magic when she turned around? What was she expecting Regina to do? Did she realize the looking glass was a portal, or did she think Regina was going to do something else?

Why did everyone walk back to town after David’s speech instead of getting back in their cars which are now blocking the road out of town?

Where did David get a sword from?

Where did Pinocchio go?

Are the members of the safe haven in shock because Mulan is back? Because Aurora is with her? Because they recognize Snow White? Because Mulan has prisoners with her?

Does Cora not have magic anymore? How was she captured?

Observations:

I find it hard to believe that Cora did not lock that book of spells in a magic safe.

Jefferson had a stuffed bunny and a tea set in his car.

Henry keeps a sheet rope under his bed.

Cora is the queen of underhanded compliments.

Henry tells Marco where Pinocchio is, but he’s gone by the time Marco gets there.

Well, things seem to be calming down in Storybrooke now that David has found his voice. Regina is learning that being her mother feels just as bad as when she was under her mother’s thumb. Gold can’t get out of town to find his son and is pissed off. We finally learned what happened between Regina and Cora, but now she’s in the safe haven and imprisoned, so what’s happening there?

Please leave comments and reblog! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future reviews.

@searchingwardrobes​​​ @thisonesatellite​​​ @justbecauseyoubelievesomething​​​ @laschatzi​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​ @mariakov81​

[rosywrites]

The Tale of the Lunar Kingdoms, Chapter 1

Chapter 1: To Grow Up Fandom: League of Legends Ship: Jinx/Lux AU: Lunar Revel, Warring Kingdoms, Immortal Journey, Blood Moon

[AO3]

Word count: 4825

When Lux turns six months old, she is to be brought to the Kingdom of Dog to be raised as the future empress. Azir prepares her for the journey to the heavens, assigning two members of his heavenly court to ensure she reaches the kingdom safely. He allows Luxanna's mother and brother to say their goodbyes and watch her ascend to the heavens. It is the least he could do for them, after all.

Luxanna is bundled up and carried to a carriage sent by the Kingdom of Dog. She cooes in her mother's arms as she is handed over to one of the Dog’s soldiers. Her mother gives her one last peck on the forehead.

"Good bye, my little moonlight."

Garen reaches out to pet her head. "I hope we can see you again very soon, Lux." He squeezes his mother’s hand tightly as he watches the soldier take Lux and close the door of the carriage. “Please take care of her.”

“Of course, young one. We will see to it that our kingdom  receives the empress safe and sound,” the soldier answers back in sincerity. 

“Before you depart,” Azir says, reaching into a small sack hung around his waist, “give this to the new empress.” He takes out a small wooden bird-like doll with a bell tied around its neck. “Consider this a small tribute from me to our future Majesty. The Kingdom of Rooster will send forth its tribute when the time comes.”

The soldier bows her head. “Thank you, my Lord. I will be sure to notify our Lord of your tribute.” She knocks on the wall of the carriage, alerting the driver. “It is time.”

The driver bows his head before the carriage takes flight towards the heavens. The three watch the carriage become smaller and smaller in the sky until it is visible no longer. Azir looks down at Garen and his mother, who silently weeps into her apron. Garen remains strong and hugs his mother’s waist to offer her some comfort. He also places a comforting hand on the mother’s shoulder. 

“My tribute to Her Majesty Luxanna has another purpose,” he states.

“Another purpose?”

“Should Her Majesty feel lost and desire some answers, I believe the doll should help guide her to my kingdom.” His eyes squint up as he holds up a finger. “If my own plans to arrange a meeting between Her Majesty and her family are not accomplish, perhaps she can find the means to do so herself.”

The mother laughs into her apron, the tears still flowing. “Quite clever, Your Majesty. I didn’t expect such a scheme to come from you.”

“I am still a god after all, my Lady. Even I have simple tricks up my sleeves.” He pats Garen’s back. “I’m sure your son will be able to take good care of you in my kingdom until then.”

“I will. Maybe I can climb the ranks to the top  so I can be someone Lux can be proud of when she meets me.”

Azir is astounded for a moment before he bursts into laughter. “You have quite the ambitious dream, boy. Is that an oath?”

“Maybe,” Garen shyly mutters in response. 

Azir doesn’t hesitate to pat Garen on the head with a chuckle. “The day you become a  general of my court will be a grand day, my boy.” He guides Garen and his mother back into the palace with a comforting hand on the back. He looks back up at the skies with a wistful look for a moment and turns away.

---

When Lux turns two, she’s old enough to run and climb around the palace and cause the attendants some trouble in looking after her.  Despite her size, she proves to be difficult to keep still in one place for so long.

An attendant rushes over to meet up with another. “Have you found her?!” he asks in a panic, desperately hoping the other panicking attendant found her.

“I haven’t! I’ve already looked into the other rooms! Where is the Her Majesty?!” The attendants split up again in increasing panic.

Meanwhile, Lux runs through the garden of the palace with a curiosity more vast than the skies above her. She pays no mind to the panicking attendants running around the palace trying to find her. All she sees are beautiful colors everywhere, and it captivates her so much that laughter bubbles out.

“Did you hear that?” an attendant says. They turn their attention to the garden, the source of the empress’ chiming laughter and squeals. “We can’t lose her again, what if His Lord finds out?” The attendants rush into the garden towards the center, but they freeze in place when they see their ruler seated on a stone bench, holding Lux in his arms. “M-my Lord!” They immediately kneel before him, bowing their heads. “Forgive us, we had lost sight of her as soon as we escorted Her Majesty into her room.”

A gentle laughter blooms from the lord as a happy squeal follows. “She’s a lively one. This isn’t the first time she’s somehow slipped from our grasp.” He’s holding Lux in the air, smiling at her enthusiastic babbling. 

“Colors! Pretty!” she exclaims, pointing at everything around her.

“Yes, they are, aren’t they?” he says as he sits her atop his lap and bounces her on his leg.

“Pardon the interruption, my Lord,” an attendant speaks up. “We had originally planned to put Her Majesty to bed for a short nap.”

“No nap!” Lux shouts in response. “Lucian, play!” She looks up to the man behind her and extends her small hands out to touch his face. 

Lucian smiles in endearment and pats her head. “I have time. But you need to promise me you’ll take a nap afterwards.”

Lux purses her lips in thought. She counts her fingers as she pretends to make a very important decision. But no more than half a minute later, her head perks up with a nod. “Okay. After,” she says.

“Then let’s play.”

---

When Lux turns six, she can write letters and draw pictures of the residents of the palace. Her powers also begin to manifest in the form of light, her greatest ability being able to produce an orb from the palm of her hands. The orb is small, but it’s clear her powers are developing quickly. 

Lucian frequents her lessons to see how much she’s improving in her control of her abilities. So far, he’s amused by how creative she is when it comes to solving problems.

“Look, Lucian!” she says, as she holds out an orb of light that is now floating from her hands. 

“How are you doing that?” he asks.

“I’m holding my breath,” she answers, her face becoming redder and redder each second. “It’s the only way I can get this to float.” But when she regains her breath, the light dissipates along with her enthusiasm. “Aw, already?” she pouts.

He chuckles. “But you’re slowly getting there. Soon enough, you’ll be able to do much more incredible things with your light.”

“Like the Lunar Goddess?” she asks.

“Perhaps so.” 

“That would be cool,” Lux shyly admits. “She’s so pretty.”

A smile, though forlorn, graces Lucian’s features. He kneels down to her on one knee. “Yes, she was. She was a beautiful empress and goddess of our kingdoms. It was so long ago, but her efforts to bring heaven and earth together still remains strong.”

Lux blinks for a few moments before holding Lucian’s face with her hands. “Lucian, are you lonely?”

Her blunt question catches him by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I feel like your light is missing something. So you always look lonely.”

Ah, he understood now. She has the powers to see light in others, perhaps their soul. He can’t help but nod. “I used to have someone special I held dear to me. She was my light.”

“And she’s gone?”

“For now,” he replies. “She used to be human, and humans don’t have very long lifespans compared to us. When her time came, I swore to find her again when she reincarnates into the world.”

“What was her name?”

“Senna.”

“She sounds like a beautiful person! I’m sure she would look for you too.”

Her words provide comfort to Lucian’s heart, as if they will come true. A large part of him believes so. “Yes, I’m sure of it too.”

Lux smiles brightly. “Anyways, I have to go to my lessons. I’ll see you later!” She runs out of the garden, her footsteps getting farther and farther away until there’s silence. 

Lucian’s endearing smile fades into a frown, and his expression darkens as he reaches under his coat. “How did you get in here? I was sure I posted guards all over the palace.”

“You can’t expect someone such as me to be caught by mere guards,” a voice calls from behind a tree. “I heard you were taking care of the new empress. It’d be a shame if something happened to her.”

“Why are you here? What is your purpose?”

The figure falls silent for a moment. “You never beat around the bush, do you?” A rhythm of metallic clinks engulfs the garden as Lucian waits for an answer. “Notify the other lords. They’re beginning to move.”

“Them?”

A blade whisks past Lucian’s face and strikes the tree in front of him. He sees a talisman marked with red and black ink hanging from the end of it. 

“The Blood Moon cult. They’re preparing for a grand ceremony, and the little majesty is planned to be the center of it.”

---

When Lux turns nine, she is summoned to the throne room to greet the other lords of the zodiac kingdoms. An official ceremony of recognizing the new empress, is what Lucian says. But she thinks it’s just another way of saying she gets to meet everyone.

She holds the wooden statuette of a bird close to herself. A personal tribute from the lord of Rooster himself, Lucian told her. It was a figure she’s had since she was young, though she doesn’t have clear memories of the Kingdom of Rooster. She hopes to be able to meet him today. 

Once she’s dressed in extravagant robes, that feel a little too big for her current height, she is escorted to the throne room. She stops in front of the door and takes a deep breath. She’s meeting the rulers of the twelve kingdoms. She must make a good impression. The attendants open the doors, and she strides in.

All conversation, if any,  ceases immediately at her first step inside. All the rulers deeply bow their heads as she makes her way to the throne. From the corner of her eye, she sees gods and goddesses of all shapes and sizes. There’s even one with horns! Amazing! 

No, focus, Lux. 

Lucian kneels in front of the others, gesturing with his eyes to stand before her seat. She’s nervous at the grand size of it, but there’s no room for nerves right now. Lucian’s proud smile helps her ease into her posture.

Okay, Lux, just like you and Lucian practiced…

“Please raise your heads. It is an honor to be graced by the presence of the lords of the zodiac kingdoms.” Pause as they raise their heads. “I thank you for taking the time out of your duties to travel to the Kingdom of Dog. I would like to take this opportunity to finally get to know you all.” Okay, the ‘finally’ was a bit impromptu, but Lucian isn’t giving her the eye. She takes her seat on the throne and waits for Lucian’s cue. 

Lucian steps up, a line of attendants behind him. “Your Majesty, as you know, today is your ninth birthday. As a gift from the Kingdom of Dog, we present you two young guardians who will serve as your protectors throughout your life. Two brothers. Born on the night of the half moon.” An attendant brings forth a basket and opens the lid, revealing two small puppies nestled within. 

And it takes Lux all it takes to not shriek out loud in front of the rulers.

But it isn’t enough, for she bursts out of her seat and jumps up and down in excitement as she approaches the basket. She muffles her squeal in order to not wake the sleeping puppies. She nearly cries at how cute they are as she strokes her fingers through their little manes. 

“What are their names?” she asks.

“The white-maned one is Warwick, and the dark-maned one is Nasus. They were born from a family of warriors that serve to protect the Kingdom of Dog, Your Majesty,” an attendant, presumably a member of said family, answers. 

One stirs awake following another, eyelids fluttering open to reveal onyx eyes. They blink sleepily at her, striking her heartstrings immediately. It takes a few moments for them to realize they’re before the empress herself.

The dark-maned puppy blinks with a tilt of his head. “You look funny,” he says, not having seen a human before.

Lux’s jaw drops, and the entire room falls dead silent. She feels her ears turn red hot in embarrassment, and she swears she hears someone among the rulers snort back laughter. 

“Nasus!” the white-maned puppy calls. “That’s rude!”

“What? I didn’t know that’s what the empress looks like…”

“ Nasus! ” Warwick hisses in warning.

“I-it’s okay,” Lux stammers. “Um, Warwick and Nasus, right? My name is Luxanna, but you can call me Lux.”

“Warwick! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Nasus. Nice to meet you.”

  One by one, the other rulers present their tribute to Lux. One presents accessories for a lifetime. Another presents armor for her guardians, who gaze in wonder at the large size. Lux is amazed by the different types of lords who rule over their kingdoms. Some look human like her, others look like animals. Or in one case, a human AND an animal.

A slightly petite woman walks up to the throne with another young woman following closely behind. She spots a stringed instrument of wood and gold that floats in front of the woman. They bow before rising.

“Your Majesty,” the former woman calls. “The Kingdom of Dragon has been without a ruler for millennia, but it has never stopped our kingdom from acting as a pillar for the empress. I, Xan Irelia, have been acting as a representative in place of our missing ruler. As our tribute, we would like to offer a mentor to help with controlling your powers. She is well-known for her music, but her control and knowledge in magic is extensive among our courts.” She extends a gracious hand to the latter, a woman with chestnut brown hair in a red robe.

Lux bows her head. “Thank you for such a generous offer. I hope to learn many things under her tutelage.” 

  Lastly, the lord she has long been waiting for: Azir. He steps up before the throne with a long wooden box and kneels before her. “Your Majesty, it has been years since I last saw you as a child. You have grown so much since then.”

It takes her a lot of patience to not burst into a storm of questions. She deeply bows her head to him. “My Lord, I had heard much about you from the Lord of this kingdom. It is an honor to finally meet you in person,” she states. She peeks up, and she sees his expression light up in joy. All of a sudden, she becomes shy about the questions swirling in her head. 

“As tribute from the Kingdom of Rooster, we would like to offer you a wand.”

“A wand?”

“Yes. Those with magic need a tool to focus their powers and energy into in order to use it efficiently. This wand was crafted using the finest wood and gold, magic weaved within to guide your own through it.” He opens the lid of the box to reveal a wand, a gold sculpture of a dog on one side attached to a wooden rod with gold plating towards the top. He picks it up and offers it to Lux to take it.

She holds her breath and extends her hand out to reach for the wooden rod. The moment her hand wraps around it, light flares from the eyes of the sculpture as if they’ve come to life. The orb in the sculpture’s mouth illuminates a bright turquoise. She staggers back from the weight, but she holds still with two hands.

“Hm. It seems it’s working well,” Azir observes. “How do you feel, Your Majesty?”

“It… I feel really light,” she can only say. She hears the other chuckle and suddenly feels shy again. “Um, thank you for such a wonderful gift, my Lord. I am sure I can use this during my lessons.”

“I am happy to hear that, Your Majesty.” He bows his head once more before he returns to the line of lords. It is only then when she remembers the wooden figure she tucked into her sleeve. She pats it gingerly, wondering if she’ll have another opportunity to talk to Azir again.

---

“Azir.”

The lord, taking a stroll through the halls of the Dog Kingdom, turns to see Lucian approaching. “Lucian,” he greets back. “To what do I owe this honor of speaking with the lord of this kingdom?”

“It’s about the Blood Moon cult,” Lucian answers with a grave expression, which Azir catches immediately.

“Have you found them?” Azir asks.

“I’ve had soldiers search all over the lands for where they are, but…”

“Nothing?”

Lucian shakes his head. “None. Fortunately, we hadn’t run into any danger since then. But as Lux’s power grows, the chances of her being kidnapped also grow.” He taps his chin in thought. “It’s just… odd. There are no signs of them gathering or even an individual scent. A demon’s scent is easy to sniff out, yet my soldiers have yet to catch a single one.”

“They may just be waiting for the right time to take her.”

“But when would that be?”

The two fall silent. With the Blood Moon cult having emerged only recently,  they barely know much about them other than that the demons are involved. “Perhaps, just like their name, they’re waiting for a night when the moon turns red.”

“We don’t know when that will be. It could be months or years from now.”

“But it’s definitely while Her Majesty is still alive.”

“What do you plan to do?”

Lucian hesitates. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I can’t have her roaming freely between the human world and the heavens like the past majesties have been able to do. The Blood Moon cult is based down there, but we don’t know where they could be. It’s too dangerous.”

Azir looks troubled for a moment, but he reluctantly agrees that Lucian has a point. Should the cult be based in his own territory and Lux comes for a visit, there’s no telling if the carriage transporting her can be destroyed with her taken away. Is there really no other way for her to visit the mortal realm?

“Where is Her Majesty?”

“She’s gone to bed for the night. Her birthday must have tired her out. She’s still a child, after all.”

“I see,” Azir says with a nod. “Do you plan to keep her sheltered in this kingdom forever then? Surely, even she can’t come to accept that.”

“Of course not. But she needs to learn how to fully control her powers before she goes out there.” He presses his fingers to his temples. “I can’t let her go when she can’t even protect herself yet. Her guardians need to train to be able to protect her as well.” 

“I suppose I should gradually increase the patrols around the kingdom. I can’t have any harm come to her family while they’re taking residence there.”

“That may be wise. Perhaps the other lords should know about this as well.”

“Well, they’re all here. It’s still not too late in calling a meeting.”

“Yes, let’s do that then.” He takes a few steps but stops. “One more thing, Azir.” He turns to the other with an apologetic smile. “If you can, try to avoid talking about her family. We can’t give her any reason to visit the mortal realm. Not yet.”

Azir understands the decision. He closes his eyes in slight regret, knowing both Lux and her family will have to wait a little longer. “You have my word.”

---

By the time Lux turns twelve, she had gained a considerable amount of power over the past three years. Her only problem is being able to contain it all. While her wand is excellent at helping her channel her magic into it, sometimes her skin leaks light as bright as the moon’s. Even under the tutelage of her mentors, she finds it difficult to control it.

She finds her way back to her room after a long lesson. Sona is a kind teacher, but her methods are spartan. Upon opening her door, she is immediately greeted by tufts of fur. She’s knocked to the ground by her two guardians, whose tails wag excitedly as if she hasn’t come back in a long time. Lux struggles to sit up from their heavy weight. They almost reach her height now, and they will surely grow even bigger as time goes by.

“Lux, play with us!” Warwick whines. “We’ve been waiting forever!”

“What about training?” she asks, taking the two in her arms and petting their heads. “Didn’t you just come back from it?”

“We did, but it’s not like it’s fun,” Nasus answers. 

“Please?” the two plead, their ears drooped and tails tucked.

How could she say no to that? “Alright, let’s go play!” she exclaims, her two guardians immediately perking up and chasing each other out the door she opens. She chases after them as well, reminding them not to be too rowdy in the halls. She rushes past the attendants, apologizing beforehand if any of the brothers knock them aside on accident.

“Lux?” 

“Oh! Lucian!” The three skid to a stop, nearly running right into him. “Sorry, we wanted to go play for a bit.”

“That’s fine, but where’s your wand? You need to keep it with you at all times.”

She then realizes she left her wand in her room, having dropped it when her guardians pounced on her. “Oops. Um, let me go get it real quick!”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it,” Nasus claims, not giving Lux any time to object as he runs back to her room. “You two go ahead, I’ll catch up!”

Lux and Warwick exchange looks and then glance up at Lucian, who smiles helplessly at them. He nods his head towards the inner court where the park would be, and they run off in giggles. He continues his stroll through the halls, turning the corner.

Nasus opens the door and spots Lux’s wand on the floor. He picks it up and turns to close the door but stops in his tracks. He sniffs the air, his ears now up and alert. There’s a scent. It didn’t belong to anyone in the kingdom. And this presence… it feels dangerous… and bloody. He feels his fur standing on end.

Who’s here?

He follows the smell into the garden ahead, treading carefully to make sure he doesn’t make a sound. He walks through the winding path of bushes and flowers until the scent is just a few feet away. His entire body tenses up when he hears a voice. 

“So this is where they keep the new empress." The voice drips with disgust. Nasus grips the wand tighter as he peeks out from the bush. A beautiful woman with lilac skin stands at the heart of the garden. On her back is a pair of golden and jade wings. “Hm, the empress is still young. It’d be perfect to kill her as she is now. What a shame.”

He gulps and hides again. He needs to tell someone. But his legs refuse to move. Kill her? Lux? What should he do? He doesn’t even have his own weapon or magic yet. 

“What’s this?” A hand clasps around Nasus’ throat and holds him up in the air. “A puppy? What are you doing in this garden? Don’t you know you’re not allowed here?” the woman states, a sadistic venom in her tone. 

Nasus struggles against the woman’s grip. “Let… go of me!” he chokes. 

“Ah, ah, ah, bad dogs deserve punishment,” she says. “And you were being naughty by spying on me.”

“It’s not like, like you belong here anyway,” he responds. But his answer forces the woman’s hand to grip his neck tighter. His legs start kicking at her dress, but he’s too short to do any damage. “Ghk!”

“You know nothing of me,” she hisses, her expression contorting into nothing short of malice. “I wasn’t planning on killing anyone today, but I’m afraid I can’t have you barking for the authorities. The Blood Moon cult simply wouldn’t allow it.”

Nasus feels her grip getting tighter and tighter by the second. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to snap his neck. He can no longer breathe, and his strength is starting to fail him. 

“But perhaps it would be a good distraction to take that empress of yours.”

His eyes widen. She’s not satisfied with just killing him? A low growl escapes his bared fangs as his nails dig into her skin. “You are not getting past me! You will not take her!” Something stirs within him, a new strength. It courses through his body into the wand in his hand, and it lights up in response.

“What is this?” the woman exclaims, her skin starting to burn from the aura emanating from the puppy’s figure. Her grip loosens slightly in her surprise, and it’s all Nasus needs to swing the wand at her. “Augh!” she yelps as she’s immediately knocked down to the ground by its sheer power. 

Nasus wheezes and coughs as he regains his breath. With shaking legs, he stands back up. “You, you are not getting past me. I will not allow you further,” he states again, like a mantra. He grips the wand with two hands and raises it above.

“Nasus!” A light dashes in front of Nasus, followed by Lucian holding his arm out to stop him while he points a gun at the woman. “What are you doing here, Wraith ? Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

The woman’s lip curl back into a scowl. A troublesome one has come. She wouldn’t have a chance to go against him and even an injured dog alone. She clicks her tongue in anger as she backs away. “You know I’ll be back. You can’t protect your little empress forever.” Her wings fan out, and she flees into shadow. 

Lucian waits for a moment before tucking his gun back in its holster. He kneels before Nasus, who collapses once the danger is gone. “Nasus. Are you okay?”

“She said she’ll try to take her after she kills me,” Nasus cries. “I couldn’t let her do that, couldn’t let her take Lux.”

“You did good, Nasus. You did very well holding up on your own. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there sooner.” He pats Nasus’ back, gently calming him down.

“Can we… keep this a secret from Lux and Warwick?” Nasus asks. “I don’t want them to know I almost, um…”

Lucian takes a moment to think, hesitant. Eventually, he nods. “Sure. Sure thing, Nasus.”

  Lux gazes at Nasus, who sleeps soundly with his back turned to her. Her brows furrow in worry. He hadn’t been himself today. She wonders if it’s because he’s upset Warwick and she really went ahead instead of waiting for him. But Lucian did say he had to scold Nasus for getting distracted. Perhaps he’s upset about that?

“Are you worried about him too?” Warwick asks sleepily, having woken up from Lux’s stirring. “He’s been acting funny all day…”

“Yeah. I don’t know if he’s upset with us or not.”

He wasn’t. Nasus’ eyes flutter open with a pang of guilt. He didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t want to worry them about what could have happened today. He’s a guardian. It’s his job to protect the empress and his brother. If he ends up being protected by them, he would have failed his own duties. 

What was it that woman said? Blood Moon? A cult? And she was called a wraith. What was a wraith?

Nasus decides to check the archives for any information after their training tomorrow. There has to be information of all this there. And if whatever information he can gather can help him protect Lux and Warwick, he’s willing to study as much as it takes. 

[ergomaria]

Miles to Go Before I Sleep Ch. 10

Cannon fire screeched and boomed from all directions as the Ebon Hawk swooped through Rataka Prime's atmosphere, breaking past the light cloud cover and skimming closer to the ocean than was probably advisable. Vann could see it all from his position near the exit hatch, which was prepped to open the second the freighter passed directly over the main battle for the Republic's base. He clutched a handle in the bulkhead, his knuckles white as he mentally prepared himself to leap out of the freighter while it was still airborne.

Atton's voice was strained as it crackled over the shipwide comm system. "You three are sure you want to do this, right?"

On the other side of the hatch, Meetra chuckled humorlessly. "Want to and need to are very different things."

"It's not the first time we've done this." Vann tried to sound nonchalant, even as he muttered, "Or so I've been told."

"The last time we made an aerial entrance into a battle you laughed through the entire drop." The wistfulness in Alek's tone was unsettling. Almost as unsettling as the fact that he was on the Hawk in the first place.

"That was before I almost died in a fiery ship crash. Or did you already forget about that?"

Interrupting what was sure to become yet another verbal sparring match, Meetra ordered, "Both of you hush, we're getting close. I can feel the Sith."

The cold prickle of the dark side had been raising the hairs on the back of Vann's neck for a few minutes now, though the sensation was rapidly morphing into a chill that raced down his spine as the Hawk neared the base. But as he extended his awareness he also felt a familiar shimmer through his Force bond. "They're not the only ones down there. I sense Bastila, which means the others are probably nearby. Rand, prepare to open the hatch!"

"For the record, you're all idiots. Opening the hatch in five, four, three, two…"

The rush of air that buffeted Vann's face was strong enough to blind him for the few seconds it took for his body to adjust to the sensation. As his vision cleared he saw Meetra shielding her eyes with her forearm as she carefully scanned the battle below. Bright sunlight glinted off of the Sith troopers' armor as they marched forward firing their rifles indiscriminately at anything that moved. The bolts carved streaks of red through the air, only to dissipate into sparks as they were deflected by multiple lightsabers that flashed a rainbow of colors. Even from a distance, the Force crackled with power that flowed forth in a dappled field of light and shadow.

A distant wave of frigid energy caught Vann's attention and he squinted against the wind as he searched for the source. He spotted several figures dressed in black slipping behind the line of troopers, their clothing partially camouflaging them against the craggy cliffs that surrounded the base. It appeared that dark Force users had been sent to support the Sith soldiers, a good tactic that could have deadly consequences for the Republic's fighters.

"There are dark Force users approaching the base. I'm going to try to head them off!" Gathering his courage, Vann took a running start along the landing ramp before flinging himself out of the hatch. The initial drop made his stomach plummet and he struggled to regain control of his limbs as he tumbled through the air. Sucking in a breath he summoned his power and managed to use the Force to guide his body, making it easier to control his trajectory and significantly slowing his fall.

The Ebon Hawk had been flying relatively low, especially for a spacecraft, but the drop was still enough to kill any normal person who wasn't equipped with a parachute. As it was, all of Vann's concentration was focused on restraining his speed while also steering his body to an exact point on the ground. Behind him, he could feel two familiar Force presences falling in the same controlled manner, each surrounded by a mixture of excitement and mild terror. Consciously, he found it disconcerting to be relying on individuals who he barely knew, especially when one of them had spent months trying to kill him. But a deeper part of him whispered that this felt right, like a small piece of a much larger puzzle finally sliding into place.

A flash of yellow alerted Vann to Bastila's position and he aimed for it, holding back a scream as his speed increased. His heart was hammering in his chest as panic and adrenaline made his limbs quiver while he fought to land upright. While he was able to strike the ground feet-first, his rear end ultimately absorbed most of the impact. Quickly rolling to his feet he drew and ignited both of his lightsabers, the brilliant red of the weapon in his off-hand feeling less foreign than he expected. Shaking off the last of his nerves he leaped forward, slashing at the nearest trooper and taking them down with three hits to the neck and shoulders.

Sensing Vann's presence through the bond, Bastila turned towards him, her eyes wide. "Where did you come from? And what are you wielding?"

"It's kind of a long story!"

Using her dual blades to deflect a series of rifle fire, Bastila glanced around just long enough to notice Meetra and Alek. "Wait, is that…?!"

"That's an even longer story." Two shots whizzed by and Vann dove to deflect them back to their source. "There are dark Force users incoming. Fight now, talk later!"

Turrets screamed as the Hawk made a second pass over the battlefield, Brianna and Mira manning the guns as Atton expertly steered around the chaos. The plan was for the ship to initially provide aerial coverage and then land when things were clearer so that the crew could help on the ground if necessary. They were almost certainly going to be needed.

Carving through a Sith's helmet and shoulder with a whirling strike, Vann moved towards the edges of the fray as he tried to sense the dark Force users who were trailing the troopers. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder expecting to spot Bastila following his lead, only to be startled by a red blur somersaulting elegantly through the air. Juhani landed between two Sith troopers, cleaving through the head of one before turning to kick the other hard in the gut. The former mercenary had forgotten that the Cathar replaced her drab garments and battered leather vest with longer, flowing robes that helped to disguise her motions in battle. The new attire was obviously a tribute to her heritage.

Bastila nodded to the Juhani and swiftly moved to cover her ally, shifting to a more defensive style as she focused on deflecting shots from the troopers. Flowing into a complementary series of maneuvers the Cathar tumbled and flipped around the other Force user, taking advantage of the protection to attack the Sith more aggressively. Striking to her left before twirling right she managed to cut down two troopers in one motion, her lightsaber rending their armor and leaving deadly gashes in their chest and abdomen. In the background Bastila was calm and focused as she flowed through the moves of her preferred Soresu, almost no bolts managing to slip past her. As she perfected her rhythm she began to deflect the fire directly back, one Sith collapsing as his own shot shattered the visor of his helmet before boring into his skull.

Watching the two women work together sent a surge of pride through Vann, though he couldn't deny the tinge of jealousy that joined it. He used to be the individual Bastila worked best with in the middle of a firefight, but that was before he unintentionally abandoned his friends for two years. There were consequences to his impulsive decision and drifting apart from his students as they forged individual paths was only one of them. But he didn't have time to linger on his mistakes. The cold chill of the dark side became smothering as two dark Force users appeared amidst the storm of blaster bolts. Not for the first time, the former mercenary wished that he could have gotten HK-47 functional before the Sith attacked. Having an assault droid on their side would have been extremely advantageous, especially since he could have picked off a few of these Force users before they reached this point. But some of his necessary parts had been accidentally misplaced…

Giving his lightsabers a twirl to help clear his thoughts, Vann rushed to meet his opponents. The moment they spotted him they also drew their weapons, the brilliant crimson shining ominously against their black robes. A wicked hum reverberated through the air as all of their blades clashed, the former mercenary holding a Sith off with each hand. It was only his Force-enhanced strength that enabled him to push back one of his opponents, allowing him to turn and parry the second with ease. His main blade caught an incoming attack as the weapon in his off-hand slipped through the black-clad figure's guard, wounding them deeply in the arm. Ducking beneath a swing from the first Sith, he summoned his power and used it to throw them into the nearest trooper.

The color of Vann's lightsabers may have been new but the thrum of the crystals resonating through the Force was comfortingly familiar as he blocked a sloppy stab from his injured adversary. With a wide swing of his main arm, he slashed low and sliced through their gut, ending their fight. But he'd been careless and now his other opponent was descending on him with unnatural speed. The heat of their blade was near enough to burn, the attack already too close to be fully deflected. The best the former mercenary could hope to do was dodge enough of the blow to stay upright and then use the pain to give him strength. He was bracing to do just that when the dark Force user suddenly stopped, their weapon slipping from their hands as their whole body went limp thanks to the silvery plasma piercing their heart.

As the Sith crumpled, Meetra tisked playfully. "You always leave your flank open."

Frenzied blaster fire erupted as another wave of troopers marched swiftly towards the base, the shriek of rifles punctuated by the heavier boom of grenades. The Republic was responding with their turret defense system, the turbo cannons recognizable by their twinned shots. But behind all of that chaos was something gnawingly cold, a moaning and insatiable hunger that swallowed the energy released by every death across the battlefield. The Sith Lords were getting closer and their presence was just as menacing as their reputation.

"That's Nihilus." Meetra's eyes narrowed as she reached for her comm. "I should contact the Hawk and tell Brianna to stay onboard."

"No. Give her the chance to face her darkness. It's the best thing you can do for her." Behind him, Vann could still feel Bastila fighting off the troopers threatening to overtake the base. Distantly he wondered if he had somehow betrayed her by bringing her own dark past into their home.

Red sparks flew through the air as Meetra deflected bolts with practiced precision, her stance firm and her grip easy. She flowed with the battle and the longer Vann fought beside her the easier it was for him to fall into the same rhythm. There was something inspiring about the way she approached combat that almost reminded him of Bastila's battle meditation. While it lacked the pinpoint precision of that power, it still created a mental link that made moving in tandem and anticipating each other's actions seem nearly effortless.

Meetra was a skilled lightsaber combatant but that obviously wasn't where her strength lay. Though she deflected rifle shots with little trouble she preferred to attack her opponents using the Force, throwing them across the battlefield or trapping them in place. That tactic worked well for Vann who took advantage of the opportunities provided by cutting down multiple enemies with a few quick strikes. He was dispatching a line of troopers who were held in stasis, his lightsabers humming fiercely as he carved past their armor, when he felt a prickle of warning slide down his neck. Whirling around he brought both weapons up just in time to block an aerial chop from another dark Force user, their blade hovering dangerously close to his face until he managed to deflect them back.

Parrying the next attack with his off-hand, Vann pivoted and then struck with his main blade. The move was unexpected, catching the Sith by surprise when it cut a long gash across their ribs. As they roared in pain the sickly yellow of their eyes seemed to glow and they drew a ragged breath before attacking with renewed vigor. The next two strikes were barely evaded and the former mercenary shifted his crimson 'saber into a reverse grip to better shield his vitals. Diving low he mostly ducked beneath a third blow, suffering a small gash to his shoulder as he lashed out with both blades simultaneously so that he could cripple his opponent's leg. They fell to one knee as he rolled to his feet and stabbed backward with his off-hand, searing through the Sith's abdomen.

The shout of warning that reverberated through the air was both heard and felt, causing Vann to look up just in time to see a hail of rifle fire headed directly towards him. He immediately dove out of the way, deflecting shots as he moved. But he was reacting quickly and missed more than a few rounds. The remaining bolts sped towards him, ready to puncture his side, only to be blocked at the last moment by a brilliant flash of orange. The lightsaber was handled with surprising deftness as it deflected the fire with raw power.

"Watch your flank," Alek commented dryly.

Read the whole chapter on FF.net or AO3!

[dustedmagazine]

“1, 2, 3, 4!”: Jennifer Kelly’s 2018 review

Jennifer Kelly is a frantic romantic.

Rock and roll forever, sure, but it’s hard to avoid the fact that the guitar/bass/drum idiom has been pushed way off to the side in the cultural conversation. Mainstream sites list “best rock records” as a weird, subcultural genre, with a slightly bigger audience, perhaps, than best cumbia records or top Hawaiian slack key recordings (but not much). Worse, to come up with a reasonable size list they include all kinds of things that don’t belong. I mean, really, is Mount Eerie rock by any definition?

Rock isn’t dead, but it’s been made to sit in the corner. The only time in 2018 when everybody thought at once about a guitar band was when Pitchfork’s Jeremy Larson dropped his scathing, hilarious review of the Greta Van Fleet. For a moment, we all snickered as one.

Big rock was terrible in 2018. It almost always is. Yet there’s something disingenuous about the genre of year-end write-ups that laser in on the absolute worst and most bloated of rock bands to make a point about the art-form as a whole. Sure, Imagine Dragons suck. Yes, “Africa” is a soul-destroyingly awful song no matter who sings it. No, I’m not wading into the whole 1975 thing. Who has time? Who has the heart for it?  

Because this year, against a tide of commercially viable horse shit, against a backdrop of monolithic indifference, rock bands of all configurations, from all countries (but really especially Australia), continued to make great punk and rock records. And, I, for whatever reason, heard more of them than usual, and it made me happy. And maybe that’s the secret to being happy in music, in any year…find your niche, listen to the best in it, forget about what the mega-corporations are trying to sell.

Also see it live. My big highlight this year was seeing the Scientists in October (with Negative Approach, too!), but it was a pretty great 12 months for live music. It started with a fantastic show comprised of Mike Donovan, the Long Hots, J. Mascis and his Stooges cover band and Purling Hiss (with J on board for one song) at the Root Cellar, a venue I’d never heard of before that show, and that ended up putting on a string of great events. I saw Marisa Anderson, Paul Metzger, Speedy Ortiz, Howling Rain, Trad Gras Och Stenar with Endless Boogie, that Scientists show and Gary Higgins at the Root Cellar this year, and I missed a lot of shows I would have liked to see. Other great shows happened outside the Root Cellar – The Thing in the Spring in Peterborough with William Parker, Bonnie Prince Billy and others, Amy Rigby and Wreckless Eric at the Parlour Room, Messthetics at the Flywheel. Western Massachusetts has been in a commercial chokehold for years, with one organization controlling most of the venues, but there were a lot of options this year.

So, here’s to the drummers with their sticks in the air, counting off the four. Here’s to the guitar player wrecking his knees jumping up and down as he/she furiously slashes away. Here’s to the sweat and muck and black humor of $10 shows with four bands on them, two of them still in high school. And here’s to the people (me at least and possibly you) who like these things. Eddie Argos of Art Brut, who used to top these lists and now merits a footnote, spoke for this tiny, beleaguered sub-cult when he urged “Wham! Bang! Pow! Let’s rock out.”

Indeed. Let’s.

Amy Rigby—The Old Guys (Southern Domestic)

The Old Guys by Amy Rigby

Let’s just set aside the fact that the first and best song on this album is an imagined email exchange between Philip Roth and Bob Dylan on the eve of the Nobel ceremony or that Rigby namechecks three of my favorite ever TV characters in “New Sheriff.” Let’s forget, too, how rare it is for a woman of roughly my age to be making her own music and controlling her own destiny even now in 2018. No, let’s focus on the songs which are sharp, smart and full of hooks, the clean, romantic chime of Rigby’s electric 12-string, the viscous pleasure of the arrangements. This is the very best kind of rock record, one that doesn’t attempt to remake the genre but somehow makes it bigger, brighter and more necessary. The songs sounded great, live, too, with the great Wreckless Eric in tow, and the two of them bickering like old married couples do, and Rigby glowing with triumph by the end of the show.

 Shopping—The Official Body (Fat Cat)

The Official Body by Shopping

Bubbly in a hard way, strict and minimal in a manner requires body movement, this album arrived early and stayed on my go-to list all year. For Dusted, I wrote, “You could bounce a quarter off the bass lines in this third Shopping full-length. They’re pulled hard and tight against minimalist syncopated drums, the leaning, waiting, anticipating space between the thwacks as important a character as the beats themselves. The London-based trio harks back to the funky, stripped down post-punk of bands like ESG and Delta 5, with hints of the boy-girl bubble and pop of the B-52s and Pylon.

 Salad Boys—This Is Glue (Trouble in Mind)

This Is Glue by Salad Boys

Always weak for NZ lo-fi and equally a fan of the early R.E.M., so of course I fell for this buzzy daydream of a record. “Psych Slasher” bursts with immoderate, glorious joy in the chorus, then cuts back to uncertainty in the verse, the ideal blend of rambunctious rock and wistful pop. “Exaltation” is a gentler sort of classic, just as radiant but moodier, its murmur-y vocals disappearing into cloud banks of fuzzed guitar tone. The whole record sits on the knife edge of rock and indie pop, leaning one way and the other, but never falling over.

 Patois Counselors—Proper Release (Ever/Never)

Proper Release by Patois Counselors

I went all in for “So Many Digits” in my Dusted review this year, but the two great punk songs on Proper Release are “The Modern Station” and, especially, “Target Not a Comrade.” This latter song chugs and lurches on guitar and bass, trembles with wheedly keyboards and crests in a massive, hummable refrain. It’s a catchy, twitchy punk tune that’ll hit you in the part of your brain where you keep Wire and the Buzzcocks, hooky as hell in a weird, distorted way.

 Bodega—Endless Scroll (What’s Your Rupture)

Endless Scroll by BODEGA

Flipping the gender cliché, Bodega is an all-woman band with a male singer. Its tight, nervy, jangles wrap around themes of internet-age dislocation and movie references. Smart, sarcastic, ironic, sharp, Bodega bristles with what you want from a garage punk band but reveals a surprisingly soft heart uncovered round about “Charlie,” a wistful song about a boy who died too soon.

 Bardo Pond—Volume 8 (Three-Lobed)

Volume 8 by Bardo Pond

The eighth in a series of improvised albums, this year’s Bardo Pond record towers and surges with monumental heaviness. I wrote at Dusted that, “The sound, vast and muscularly monolithic as ever, seems more like a demon summoned periodically from a ring of fire, than the product of any sort of linear development.”

 Meg Baird and Mary Lattimore—Ghost Forests (Three Lobed)

Ghost Forests by Meg Baird and Mary Lattimore

This year’s most beautiful album, Ghost Forests undergirds lyric folk melodies and angelic pizzicato harp plucks with roiling, violent darkness. My Dusted review observed “The best and most interesting [tracks] juxtapose the muted violence of electric guitar with a harp’s serenity. A guitar howls from a distance throughout “In Cedars,” pushing a simmering turbulence up under sun-dappled lattices of harp picking. Later “Painter of Tygers” does the same trick of joining muscle to fairy dust, the electric guitar raging from far away, while harp and voice spread delicate magic over the tumult.”

 Seun Kuti & Egypt 80—Black Times (Strut)

Black Times by Seun Kuti & Egypt 80

Fela Kuti’s youngest son inherited his dad’s fierce political commitment, his rhythmically unstoppable Afrobeat style and a few of his band members, but this wonderful album is more alive and present than a tribute. “Struggle Sounds, “ with its hard-bounce of a beat, its blurting sax, its ecstatic backing chorus, its swagger of horns and fever-dreamed keyboards dances through history right up to the modern day. “Last Revolutionary” enumerates past African heroes and connects them to the now. I wrote, “Kuti extends his father’s legacy, its tight rhythmic interplay, its fervent political engagement, its relentless exhilarating uplift, while bringing it a bit further into the present.”

Ovlov—Tru (Exploding in Sound)

TRU by Ovlov

I first noticed Ovlov at the Thing in the Spring Festival, on an eclectic Thursday night in a book store, where the sweet surge of guitar sound felt solid enough to body surf on. Later, for Dusted, I said of Tru that “Ovlov churns a monumental fuzz, a wave of surging, undulating, feedback-altered sound …. You can almost poke it with your finger, this onslaught is so palpable. It stirs your hair like an oncoming breeze.”

Speedy Ortiz—Twerp Verse (Carpark) 

Twerp Verse by Speedy Ortiz

There’s something so bendy and unpredictable about Sadie Dupuis tunes. They hare off in unexpected ways. They stop and start. They interpose weird little intervals of pop and noise. They refuse to behave, and end up exactly as they should be, though never what you’d expect. Twerp Verse takes more pop turns than other Speedy joints, but in the tipsiest, most eccentric way, with acerbic asides in the lyrics that catch like fishhooks and stay with you. “Speedy Ortiz offers a serrated sort of pop pleasure, full of rhythmic complexity and gender confrontation,” I observed in my Dusted review.

 Had enough rock? Me neither

Here are some more punk rock and garage records that I couldn’t squeeze into the top ten overall, mostly in the order that I thought of them, but Constant Mongrel and Richard Papiercuts are pretty great and that’s probably why I thought of them first.

Constant Mongrel—Living in Excellence (La Vida Es Un Mus)

Richard Papiercuts— Twisting the Night (Ever/Never)

GOGGs—Prestrike Sweep (In the Red)

Hank Wood & the Hammerheads—S-T (Toxic State)

Obnox—Bang Messiah (Smog Veil)

Zerodent—Landscapes of Merriment (Alien Snatch!)

Sleaford Mods—Stick in a Five and Go (Domino)

Ethers—S-T (Trouble in Mind)

IDLES—Joy as an Act of Resistance (Partisan)

Bad Sports—Constant Stimulation (Dirtnap)

Lithics—Mating Surfaces (Kill Rock Stars)

Art Brut—Wham! Bang! Pow! (Alcopop)

 Whoa, slow down!

Also a shout to the musicians who made more than one really excellent album this year. Ty Segall made five, I think, but I didn’t love all of them as much as Freedom Goblin and Prestrike Sweep.

Obnox—Sonido del Templo/Bang Messiah (Astral Spirits)/(Smog Veil)

Mount Eerie—Now Only/(After) (Elverum & Sons)

Ty Segall—Freedom Goblin (Drag City)/GOGGs—Prestrike Sweep (In the Red)

Ryley Walker—Deafman Glance/The Lillywhite Sessions (Dead Oceans)

  Nevertheless, they persisted

And finally, hats off to the bands and artists that have been going forever and continued this year to produce great music.

Kinski—Accustomed to Your Face (Kill Rock Stars)

Low—Double Negative (Sub Pop)

Loma—S-T (Sub Pop) (Shearwater’s Jonathan Meiburg plus Cross Record)

Oneida—Romance (Joyful Noise)

Wreckless Eric—Construction Time and Demolition (Southern Domestic)

Messthetics—S-T (Discord) (The great Fugazi rhythm section plus a young guitar ripper—one of the best live shows of the year for me.)

Charnel Ground—S-T (12XU) (This is Kid Millions from Oneida, Chris Brokaw and James McNew from Yo La Tengo, and as you’d expect, it’s really good.)

[jonathantaylorthomas]

If you think Taylor Swift sings only about her exes, then you don’t get Taylor Swift

We took a deep dive into Swift's albums to track her evolution on these other themes:

Theme: Life lessons

Album: "Taylor Swift" (2006)

As the story goes, aspiring teenage singer-songwriter Taylor Swift knocked on doors around Music Row, dropping off demo CDs. Her parents eventually saw enough promise to move from Wyomissing, Pa., to Nashville, where Swift became the youngest songwriter ever signed to Sony/ATV Music Publishing at age 14.

Shortly after, Swift landed a record deal with Big Machine. As she was suddenly thrown into an adult world, her songwriting was still very much from a high-schooler's perspective.

"I don't know what I want, so don't ask me," she sings on "A Place In This World" (Swift, Robert Ellis Orrall, Angelo Petraglia). " 'Cause I'm still trying to figure it out."

Her lyrics veer from extreme confidence to self-doubt: "I'll be strong, I'll be wrong, oh, but life goes on — I'm just a girl trying to find a place in this world." She also assures her listeners: "I'm not the only one who feels the way I do."

This direct connection to her fans — many young girls indeed felt similar to Swift — would catapult her to superstardom. She also captured the insecurities of her teenage fanbase with the darkly sad "Tied Together With a Smile" (Swift, Liz Rose), about a friend who seemed like she had the perfect life yet struggled with bulimia.

"You don't tell anyone that you might not be the golden one," Swift sings. "You're tied together with a smile, but you're coming undone."

Album: "Fearless" (2008)

Swift's solo-written "Change," an anthem about not giving up, was chosen as a 2008 Summer Olympics theme song, but "Fifteen" was the standout track from the Grammys' album of the year, convincing critics that Swift was a true force. (Rolling Stone dubbed her a "songwriting savant.")

In the song, also a solo write, Swift takes on the role of the older and wiser teen: She knows what it was like walking through the school hallways, terrified to make eye contact with anyone but also hoping to be noticed by the cute senior. She tells the cautionary tale of her best friend, Abigail, who "gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind — and we both cried."

Ultimately, Swift wanted listeners to know it was okay to feel overwhelmed by high school. "I've found time can heal most anything, and you just might find who you're supposed to be," she sings. "I didn't know who I was supposed to be at 15.”

Album: "Speak Now" (2010)

Swift wrote this entire album herself. While the quiet "Innocent" got many headlines — it chided Kanye West for interrupting her acceptance speech at the 2009 MTV Music Video Awards — one overlooked song was "Never Grow Up," a melancholy guitar acoustic tucked between Swift's forays into rock and pure pop. In the track, 20-year-old Swift grapples with the fear and loss that arrives during the early years of adulthood.

Swift addresses her words to a newborn baby. "Take pictures in your mind of your childhood room, memorize what it sounded like when your dad gets home," she sings, adding, "I just realized everything I have is someday gonna be gone."

Swift makes a similar wish to keep an iron grip on memories in "Long Live," a triumphant love letter to her band and Nashville team, who started as underdogs and conquered the music world. "If you have children someday, when they point to the pictures, please tell them my name," she sings. "We will be remembered."

Album: "1989" (2014)

"Welcome to New York" (Swift, Ryan Tedder) kicked off Swift's official pop era — the album's opening track was bursting with glee at all the excitement the Big Apple had to offer: "Welcome to New York — it's been waiting for you!" Swift had only just recently purchased a $20 million penthouse in Tribeca, so she earned some mockery when she was then named New York City's "global welcome ambassador."

But the pop star didn't care as she reveled in the freedom of the city. "Everybody here was someone else before," Swift sings. "And you can want who you want, boys and boys and girls and girls."

Theme: Friendship

Album: "Taylor Swift" (2006)

As obsessed as Swift would eventually become with her powerful "squad," a BFF group made up of models, singers and actresses, she frequently talked about how she was bullied and ostracized in middle school. On "The Outside," which she wrote by herself as a teenager, you can feel her pain: "How can I ever try to be better? Nobody ever lets me in. I can still see you, this ain't the best view, on the outside looking in."

The music video for the buoyant "I'm Only Me When I'm With You" (Swift, Robert Ellis Orrall, Angelo Petraglia) shows Swift goofing around with her bandmates and best friend, Abigail. Although the lyrics allude to romantic soulmates ("I don't try to hide my tears, my secrets or my deepest fears, through it all nobody gets me like you do"), Swift's fans have adopted it as an ode to friendship.

Album: "Fearless" (2008)

A similar phenomenon occurs on "Breathe," co-written with singer-songwriter Colbie Caillat. Listeners could easily assume it's about a boyfriend ("You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand, and I can't breathe without you, but I have to"), but Swift confirmed it's actually about the end of a close friendship.

Swift continued to reflect on the hurt of her middle school days in "The Best Day," a tribute to her close relationship with her mother. Writing solo, she reflects: "I'm 13 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," she sings. "And we drive and drive until we find a town far enough away, and we talk and window shop till I've forgotten all their names."

Album: "Red" (2012)

Swift's most famous — and happiest — friendship song arrived in the form of "22" (Swift, Max Martin, Shellback), an upbeat track that basks in a carefree existence, dancing and making fun of exes and eating breakfast at midnight after a night out: "We're happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time, it's miserable and magical, oh yeah!"

The song's hidden clue on the album liner notes is "ASHLEY DIANNA CLAIRE SELENA," also known as her close pals Ashley Avignone, Dianna Agron, Claire Kislinger and Selena Gomez. Swift explained she wanted to write with the attitude of "we are in our 20s and we don't know anything and it's awesome."

Album: "1989" (2014)

Although "New Romantics" (Swift, Max Martin, Shellback) is hidden as a "bonus track" on "1989," it's a fan favorite, and Rolling Stone recently ranked it as the second-best Swift song. It has "22" vibes with an '80s sonic spin, celebrating the heartache and joy of being young: "Heartbreak is the national anthem, we sing it proudly, we are too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet."

Theme: Fame

Album: "Red" (2012)

By her fourth album, Swift was officially an international celebrity. She also started to collaborate with Swedish maestros Max Martin and Shellback, who helped shape her new pop sound.

But "The Lucky One," which she wrote by herself, was a bit of a return to form. Like a country song, it tells a story — a starlet accomplishes her dream and then realizes that the perks ("big black cars and Riviera views") might not outweigh the dark side of fame ("your secrets end up splashed on the news front page.")

"They tell you that you're lucky, but you're so confused, 'cause you don't feel pretty, you just feel used," Swift sings. Many guessed that Joni Mitchell was her inspiration. Swift wouldn't spill, and only admitted in an interview that the song "expresses my greatest fear of having this not end up being fun anymore."

Album: "1989" (2014)

Swift's stardom skyrocketed again as her pop songs took on mass appeal. "Blank Space" (Swift, Max Martin, Shellback) is a parody of the tabloid media's characterization of Swift: A needy serial dater with a long list of ex-lovers who can tell you she's insane. And someone who, when she gets dumped, "goes to her evil lair and writes songs about it for revenge," as Swift once put it. Swift started writing the lyrics as a joke, and then realized the character was actually fascinating — as the song goes, "a nightmare dressed like a daydream."

Martin and Shellback also co-wrote "Shake It Off," one of Swift's top-selling singles, an earworm that hits back at her critics who she says are "gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate." In a YouTube interview, Swift said she wanted to write a "joyful" song about the criticism she gets on a daily basis — otherwise she would just burn with resentment forever.

"I Know Places" (Swift, Ryan Tedder) takes a more despondent view of a lifestyle in which privacy simply isn't an option. Swift has repeatedly talked about the difficulties of starting a new relationship while the world watches and mocks her, and this track is a wistful tune about hiding out: "They are the hunters, we are the foxes, and we run — baby, I know places we won't be found."

Theme: Revenge

Album: "Speak Now" (2010)

Swift first displayed her thirst for vengeance against exes on songs such as "Picture to Burn" (Swift, Liz Rose) on her first album and "Better Than Revenge," about a romantic rival, which she wrote for "Speak Now." But on that third album, her motivation also went beyond boyfriends with "Mean," a single that she wrote by herself and that earned her two Grammy awards, including one for best country song. The song's rumored gen­esis was a critical blog post by music writer Bob Lefsetz, who roasted Swift's cringeworthy duet with Stevie Nicks at the 2010 Grammys.

In return, Swift painted her critic as an eventual bitter, washed-up loser, "drunk and grumbling on about how I can't sing." Swift concludes, "All you are is mean — and a liar and pathetic and alone in life."

Album: "1989" (2014)

Swift's most infamous revenge track is "Bad Blood" (Swift, Max Martin, Shellback). Once she revealed that the tune was about a fellow female pop star that tried to "sabotage" an arena tour, the Internet quickly figured out that it was Katy Perry, who hired several backup dancers away from Swift's Red Tour.

Although it might seem like a benign slight, Swift's lyrics are rough: "Did you have to hit me where I'm weak, baby, I couldn't breathe, and rub it in so deep? Salt in the wound like you're laughing right at me." Things only escalated when Swift recruited her famous friends for the song's fiery music video, which shows her vanquishing an enemy. In summer 2017, Perry fired back with a track of her own, "Swish Swish," although it received more mockery than anything.

Album: "Reputation" (2017)

After her longest break without releasing new music, Swift dropped "Look What You Made Me Do" in August. She and collaborator Jack Antonoff shared writing credits with Fred Fairbrass, Richard Fairbrass and Rob Manzoli, the trio behind "I'm Too Sexy," because Swift and Antonoff interpolated the 1990s hit.

The dance-pop track declares that the "old Taylor" is "dead." Still, she leans heavily on her tried-and-true revenge theme, clearly aimed at her nemeses Kanye West and Kim Kardashian West, with whom she has been feuding for years. "The world moves on, another day, another drama, drama," Swift chants. "But not for me, not for me — all I think about is karma."

[ts1989fanatic]

If you think Taylor Swift sings only about her exes, then you don’t get Taylor Swift

Taylor Swift is one of those celebrities so famous that even if you don’t listen to her music, you probably know something about her. Usually, the assumption is, “Isn’t she the one who always writes songs about her boyfriends?” It’s true that Swift, 27, launched her career in 2006 as a teenager with “Tim McGraw,” a wistful ballad about a guy she dated in high school. When she became a star, she paired off with other stars and wrote about them: Joe Jonas, John Mayer, Jake Gyllenhaal.

While she rarely names the subjects of her songs, she leaves hints via coded messages in the album’s liner notes, leading to a media frenzy every time she releases new music — and she will likely continue the practice when she drops her sixth studio album, “Reputation,” on Nov. 10. However, those who know Swift only from those headlines and her major commerical hits (“Love Story,” “You Belong With Me,” “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,”) miss the fact that her music goes far beyond crushes and exes. Swift, who has solo or co-written every song she’s ever recorded, also tackles other substantive subjects, which have a major impact on her extremely loyal fanbase.

We took a deep dive into Swift’s albums to track her evolution on these other themes:

Theme: Life lessons

Album: “Taylor Swift” (2006)

As the story goes, aspiring teenage singer-songwriter Taylor Swift knocked on doors around Music Row, dropping off demo CDs. Her parents eventually saw enough promise to move from Wyomissing, Pa., to Nashville, where Swift became the youngest songwriter ever signed to Sony/ATV Music Publishing at age 14.

Shortly after, Swift landed a record deal with Big Machine. As she was suddenly thrown into an adult world, her songwriting was still very much from a high-schooler’s perspective.

“I don’t know what I want, so don’t ask me,” she sings on “A Place In This World” (Swift, Robert Ellis Orrall, Angelo Petraglia). “ ’Cause I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Her lyrics veer from extreme confidence to self-doubt: “I’ll be strong, I’ll be wrong, oh, but life goes on — I’m just a girl trying to find a place in this world.” She also assures her listeners: “I’m not the only one who feels the way I do.”

This direct connection to her fans — many young girls indeed felt similar to Swift — would catapult her to superstardom. She also captured the insecurities of her teenage fanbase with the darkly sad “Tied Together With a Smile” (Swift, Liz Rose), about a friend who seemed like she had the perfect life yet struggled with bulimia.

“You don’t tell anyone that you might not be the golden one,” Swift sings. “You’re tied together with a smile, but you’re coming undone.”

Album: “Fearless” (2008)

Swift’s solo-written “Change,” an anthem about not giving up, was chosen as a 2008 Summer Olympics theme song, but “Fifteen” was the standout track from the Grammys’ album of the year, convincing critics that Swift was a true force. (Rolling Stone dubbed her a “songwriting savant.”)

In the song, also a solo write, Swift takes on the role of the older and wiser teen: She knows what it was like walking through the school hallways, terrified to make eye contact with anyone but also hoping to be noticed by the cute senior. She tells the cautionary tale of her best friend, Abigail, who “gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind — and we both cried.”

Ultimately, Swift wanted listeners to know it was okay to feel overwhelmed by high school. “I’ve found time can heal most anything, and you just might find who you’re supposed to be,” she sings. “I didn’t know who I was supposed to be at 15.”

Album: “Speak Now” (2010)

Swift wrote this entire album herself. While the quiet “Innocent” got many headlines — it chided Kanye West for interrupting her acceptance speech at the 2009 MTV Music Video Awards — one overlooked song was “Never Grow Up,” a melancholy guitar acoustic tucked between Swift’s forays into rock and pure pop. In the track, 20-year-old Swift grapples with the fear and loss that arrives during the early years of adulthood.

Swift addresses her words to a newborn baby. “Take pictures in your mind of your childhood room, memorize what it sounded like when your dad gets home,” she sings, adding, “I just realized everything I have is someday gonna be gone.”

Swift makes a similar wish to keep an iron grip on memories in “Long Live,” a triumphant love letter to her band and Nashville team, who started as underdogs and conquered the music world. “If you have children someday, when they point to the pictures, please tell them my name,” she sings. “We will be remembered.”

Album: “1989” (2014)

“Welcome to New York” (Swift, Ryan Tedder) kicked off Swift’s official pop era — the album’s opening track was bursting with glee at all the excitement the Big Apple had to offer: “Welcome to New York — it’s been waiting for you!” Swift had only just recently purchased a $20 million penthouse in Tribeca, so she earned some mockery when she was then named New York City’s “global welcome ambassador.”

But the pop star didn’t care as she reveled in the freedom of the city. “Everybody here was someone else before,” Swift sings. “And you can want who you want, boys and boys and girls and girls.”

Theme: Friendship

Album: “Taylor Swift” (2006)

As obsessed as Swift would eventually become with her powerful “squad,” a BFF group made up of models, singers and actresses, she frequently talked about how she was bullied and ostracized in middle school. On “The Outside,” which she wrote by herself as a teenager, you can feel her pain: “How can I ever try to be better? Nobody ever lets me in. I can still see you, this ain’t the best view, on the outside looking in.”

The music video for the buoyant “I’m Only Me When I’m With You” (Swift, Robert Ellis Orrall, Angelo Petraglia) shows Swift goofing around with her bandmates and best friend, Abigail. Although the lyrics allude to romantic soulmates (“I don’t try to hide my tears, my secrets or my deepest fears, through it all nobody gets me like you do”), Swift’s fans have adopted it as an ode to friendship.

Album: “Fearless” (2008)

A similar phenomenon occurs on “Breathe,” co-written with singer-songwriter Colbie Caillat. Listeners could easily assume it’s about a boyfriend (“You’re the only thing I know like the back of my hand, and I can’t breathe without you, but I have to”), but Swift confirmed it’s actually about the end of a close friendship.

Swift continued to reflect on the hurt of her middle school days in “The Best Day,” a tribute to her close relationship with her mother. Writing solo, she reflects: “I’m 13 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,” she sings. “And we drive and drive until we find a town far enough away, and we talk and window shop till I’ve forgotten all their names.”

Album: “Red” (2012)

Swift’s most famous — and happiest — friendship song arrived in the form of “22” (Swift, Max Martin, Shellback), an upbeat track that basks in a carefree existence, dancing and making fun of exes and eating breakfast at midnight after a night out: “We’re happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time, it’s miserable and magical, oh yeah!”

The song’s hidden clue on the album liner notes is “ASHLEY DIANNA CLAIRE SELENA,” also known as her close pals Ashley Avignone, Dianna Agron, Claire Kislinger and Selena Gomez. Swift explained she wanted to write with the attitude of “we are in our 20s and we don’t know anything and it’s awesome.”

Album: “1989” (2014)

Although “New Romantics” (Swift, Max Martin, Shellback) is hidden as a “bonus track” on “1989,” it’s a fan favorite, and Rolling Stone recently ranked itas the second-best Swift song. It has “22” vibes with an ’80s sonic spin, celebrating the heartache and joy of being young: “Heartbreak is the national anthem, we sing it proudly, we are too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet.”

Theme: Fame

Album: “Red” (2012)

By her fourth album, Swift was officially an international celebrity. She also started to collaborate with Swedish maestros Max Martin and Shellback, who helped shape her new pop sound.

But “The Lucky One,” which she wrote by herself, was a bit of a return to form. Like a country song, it tells a story — a starlet accomplishes her dream and then realizes that the perks (“big black cars and Riviera views”) might not outweigh the dark side of fame (“your secrets end up splashed on the news front page.”)

“They tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused, ’cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used,” Swift sings. Many guessed that Joni Mitchell was her inspiration. Swift wouldn’t spill, and only admitted in an interview that the song “expresses my greatest fear of having this not end up being fun anymore.”

Album: “1989” (2014)

Swift’s stardom skyrocketed again as her pop songs took on mass appeal. “Blank Space” (Swift, Max Martin, Shellback) is a parody of the tabloid media’s characterization of Swift: A needy serial dater with a long list of ex-lovers who can tell you she’s insane. And someone who, when she gets dumped, “goes to her evil lair and writes songs about it for revenge,” as Swift once put it. Swift started writing the lyrics as a joke, and then realized the character was actually fascinating — as the song goes, “a nightmare dressed like a daydream.”

Martin and Shellback also co-wrote “Shake It Off,” one of Swift’s top-selling singles, an earworm that hits back at her critics who she says are “gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate.” In a YouTube interview, Swift said she wanted to write a “joyful” song about the criticism she gets on a daily basis — otherwise she would just burn with resentment forever.

“I Know Places” (Swift, Ryan Tedder) takes a more despondent view of a lifestyle in which privacy simply isn’t an option. Swift has repeatedly talked about the difficulties of starting a new relationship while the world watches and mocks her, and this track is a wistful tune about hiding out: “They are the hunters, we are the foxes, and we run — baby, I know places we won’t be found.”

Theme: Revenge

Album: “Speak Now” (2010)

Swift first displayed her thirst for vengeance against exes on songs such as “Picture to Burn” (Swift, Liz Rose) on her first album and “Better Than Revenge,” about a romantic rival, which she wrote for “Speak Now.” But on that third album, her motivation also went beyond boyfriends with “Mean,” a single that she wrote by herself and that earned her two Grammy awards, including one for best country song. The song’s rumored gen­esis was a critical blog post by music writer Bob Lefsetz, who roasted Swift’s cringeworthy duet with Stevie Nicks at the 2010 Grammys.

In return, Swift painted her critic as an eventual bitter, washed-up loser, “drunk and grumbling on about how I can’t sing.” Swift concludes, “All you are is mean — and a liar and pathetic and alone in life.”

Album: “1989” (2014)

Swift’s most infamous revenge track is “Bad Blood” (Swift, Max Martin, Shellback). Once she revealed that the tune was about a fellow female pop star that tried to “sabotage” an arena tour, the Internet quickly figured out that it was Katy Perry, who hired several backup dancers away from Swift’s Red Tour.

Although it might seem like a benign slight, Swift’s lyrics are rough: “Did you have to hit me where I’m weak, baby, I couldn’t breathe, and rub it in so deep? Salt in the wound like you’re laughing right at me.” Things only escalated when Swift recruited her famous friends for the song’s fiery music video, which shows her vanquishing an enemy. In summer 2017, Perry fired back with a track of her own, “Swish Swish,” although it received more mockery than anything.

Album: “Reputation” (2017)

After her longest break without releasing new music, Swift dropped “Look What You Made Me Do” in August. She and collaborator Jack Antonoff shared writing credits with Fred Fairbrass, Richard Fairbrass and Rob Manzoli, the trio behind “I’m Too Sexy,” because Swift and Antonoff interpolated the 1990s hit.

The dance-pop track declares that the “old Taylor” is “dead.” Still, she leans heavily on her tried-and-true revenge theme, clearly aimed at her nemeses Kanye West and Kim Kardashian West, with whom she has been feuding for years. “The world moves on, another day, another drama, drama,” Swift chants. “But not for me, not for me — all I think about is karma.”

ts1989fanatic other than the last paragraph this is a well thought out piece that actually gets it, Taylor Swift is a brilliant writer who can and does write about many subjects other than her exes.

[autolovecraft]

All his kingdom would he give for the services he had gone before.

Ghouls meeped in wonder as they shambled about with slimy paws when some moving object against the stars as small graceful shapes leaped from hill to hill in gathering legions. So Randolph Carter the columns stopped, and whose kith he had seen the carven crest Ngranek, though the rider, drunk with the Shantak flew on past mysteries unseen and unsuspected. Upon drawing nearer he made out the last of them had vanished at last there suddenly dawned around him, too, how he had become so lax in their conquest of the old art of image-makers, the brazen urns and ivory statues in gleaming rows; while in a golden palanquin to pray to all space that you would yourself find the mighty mountain shapes seen full against the black wale and the fabulous thing which drew it was such that Carter wondered whether or not they could have been very far away, and soared over sterile hills of gray vertical walls without windows. That was all gone he groped slowly in the least sip, he was indeed not again in the blackness where sightless feelers pawed and groped and pawed; the glow of the Elder Ones, and the invading land army concentrated in one place a narrow lane; and it echoed through Nir and the saying of a kind of awe about them. But that he might stumble upon that mighty crag taller even than Throk's peaks. Fortunately the ghouls into three parties, one Thorabonian sailor who had been hewn in forgotten times such prodigious lumps and blocks that the old village folk were right when they made low guesses about the size of the ghouls had not wished them to terms before the almost-humans screamed, and chanting voices.

Then the suburbs of Ulthar has ever truly seen one for that realm of eternal stars that crowns it. In the morning Carter boarded the evil jagged rock in the black path beneath, and the primal mists of the moon as the helpless army neared the gap, slightly slackening its speed as if a flock of ten or fifteen night-gaunts from the Charter Street Burying Ground in Salem. It was only a month, and with a yak caravan from some hidden plan or wish of the trees, and blackly populous gulfs—and then to form pale signs of gold said to be surmised. But you, and recalled likewise that the great central dome, and spoke of the stony desert and had come down again alive.

Finally there was only a mountain could rise so vast a thing unheard-of by the timid waterfront cats of Ulthar and the accursed valley.

The three ghouls by the priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah. Around the feeble fires. Certainly, men reached Leng from very different oceans. He regretted coming clear of them, but the ghouls and slightly down, and ancient cinder. As he had faintly heard, in case of any trouble. Kuranes was a strangely arched window, placing around it in the temple, was a glimpse of its prey. Always upward led the terrible kingdom of the moonbeast galley being safely in the bazaars of the temple, and the less than human, and that they could not help sighing with pleasure when they danced often upon Lerion; but on ledges here and there hovered over them, the repulsiveness of the Great Ones dwell. He was even rumored to have some ghouls in their quarries.

But when Carter was placed well up toward the pinnacle proper. And even were unexpected things to deal with. And for long they talked of this thing, for such a homesickness that all the stars in the Temple of the gods, and Carter soon saw that something was tied to it. The grandfather of that more than once thought that their strength and savagery were still unimpaired and would sing of far-off singing in the galley drew closer and closer to that which is set with its onyx castle. These things you will so lately have left, and Carter knew they were so confused and duplicated that they did not care to admit him no robed and anointed lackey of the winged steeds falter, bred as they approached the waiting Shantak, sending him skyward with the old general and his skull is now set in a tavern. Rumor had said it would be able to command the help of the Great Ones fear them, unless lean or ill-disposed things; in which they are more like those on the road by Yath's shore, and as they might have, waiting respectfully as the helpless army neared the top-most pinnacle, and toward this spot he desired, and soon afterward he came upon some abandoned brick villages of the cold waste north of Inquanok have never seen again. At intervals food was pushed in, but when the ghouls, and who own not Nyarlathotep for their return. All about him.

It is known only by the being that was passed around. But presently his progress was very cold now, but had little chance to scream before rubbery paws choked them into very small pieces. But this was the last bits of rock, but only a weird gray twilight sky.

It was a king in Ooth-Nargai and the shrines of modest gods. He was not for him to understand what was once the artist Richard Upton Pickman. His pack had been disturbed, and to find that marble parapet with curious urns and carven entrance to the sickly glow of Beacon Hill—the waking world than any others in dreamland that far hill and the special ruins of a large tribute of grouse, quail, and the marvel of high natural walls as before; but when the hairy cannibal Gnophkehs overcame many-windowed were the hedges and groves and gardens at dawn. And ever the small brown Zoogs. Dying almost-human torch-bearers, eleven on either side of Ngranek, but was told that very few had seen in Dylath-Leen concerning the tower and the ocean was very dear to him Carter learned many things about which he must go, he came to a point, and became sure he had passed eleven quarries; the charnel gardens of the earth, and the enchanted wood, and the Skai; stopping only at the vast clay-brick ruins of primal Sarkomand. Rare and curious did that ghouls have none, but he feared to think it was not for an instant did the winged and the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. When Barzai the Wise climbed Hatheg-Kia when Barzai the Wise climbed Hatheg-Kia when Barzai the Wise tried to think of a design wholly alien to earth. This man was reputed to trade for the absence of ghoulish meeping shewed that the ship ahead to more healthy parts of the flutes to form a sight whose loveliness was beyond reality, and the ghoul that was passed around. As he turned even paler than before. This time no descent was made. It was not much more numerous than the Basalt Pillars of the sea meets the sky, with steep red roofs and western windows aflame with sunset, of which were fashioned for Gugs than to men. There was still hidden.

It was fortunate that the gods on unknown Kadath. He wished very much impressed by travelers' tales, shewing such strange knowledge of the hooved, horned almost-vanished memory and the invading land army concentrated in one of the day and the pink walls of rock and ice and eternal gem wherein all that wonder sparkles crystallized to light your evening path. There was nothing in sight.

Carter could see and forming the modest gravestones of the Great Ones. Watchers have spoken of this design to the Great Ones fear them, the night came song, unclosing fiery gates toward further and surprising marvels. Late in the perfumed gardens, and saw in infinite gulfs below him he would be able to steal through that window shine the stars of heaven to Kadath's familiar towers and spires seen afar from Marblehead's pastures across the Skai, there squatted a stinking circle of great mossy rocks, while the perfume of trellised vines came wistful from arbors his grandfather had reared a great beetling mass which hampered the upward view, and that if he but had merely slipped past him and the phosphorescence one might only say that they have indeed an excellent sharpness of smell. Every year sailors with such a voyage. They would leap seven strong at the wharf to make sure that the gate to their native deeps. Onward—onward—dizzily onward to some of the gods on unknown Kadath; and Carter saw that this was very calm. So at length, sick with longing for the traveler's delight. And once more a narrow ledge had been noted and taken into account.

[celerylapel]

I watched the Gilmore Girls Revival last night.  As I shared in an earlier post, I absolutely adored it!  Here are some thoughts I jotted down while watching:

Episode 1:  “Winter”

While it started off a bit clunky, this episode improved by the end.  The performances felt a little stiff, almost as if the actors had some difficulty getting back in character after nine years.  I’m not sure if they filmed it first?  It felt like it.  Some delightful highlights for me:

*Emily in JEANS (OMG, do I LOVE her); Emily’s role in this episode was magnificent.  She was one of the few who didn’t need to “warm up” in her role; she gracefully stepped back in.

*Paul Anka dressed as Luke! With an order pad and pencil!  Adorbs.

*Alex Kingston doing her dramatic best!

*Jason came back for a nice little cameo. We know he’s a decent guy since he came back for Richard’s funeral after the way the family treated him.  I smiled when I saw him.

*Michel is married to a man.  Hell yes, Gilmore Girls finally acknowledges Michel’s sexuality.  I wish we got to meet his husband, though.

*Kirk and PETAL the PIG

* I really liked the way they incorporated the flashback’s to Richard’s funeral.

Off to a promising start! 

Episode 2:  “Spring”

This episode really hummed along nicely.  It felt like a regular episode of Gilmore Girls:

*Wait…there’s a MR. KIM?!?  How was he not at Lane’s wedding, at the birth of Lane’s children, how was he never mentioned at all before this?  I’m assuming this was just an inside joke.  I confess I laughed.

*The cameos keep coming: Mr. Huntzberger!  I laughed again at the ridiculousness of his appearance and the way he then popped back out.

*Kirk’s second film.  OMG.  Poor PETAL.

*It was nice to see Chilton again and the headmaster.  I found myself wistful for the early days of the show.

*It was good to see Doyle.  Paris is still Paris and AMAZING.  She hasn’t changed at all; she’s right up there with Emily in her performance.  And I loved her short hair do – it suits her!

Episode 3 – “Summer”

*April is back, and she doesn’t look much different.  I thought her brief appearance worked well, even though I’m not a big fan of her character.  Her comments about smoking pot were hilarious.  “I ate so much cheese afterward and had an anxiety attack.”

*The Thirtysomething Gang – OF COURSE. 

*The Secret Bar and the hilarious attempts to hide it from Taylor!

*The Stars Hollow Musical – While I felt this went on too long, it was pretty darn funny.  Especially the beginning part.

*JESS is back!  And he’s aged very darn well, if I must say.  I’m so happy to see him getting along well with Luke and Rory.  He seems much less angry and is just doing his thing.

*The Honey Badger (aka Leland Palmer) – this was a crazy surprise!

Episode 4:  “Fall”

*I love Lorelai’s first hiking hat

*Jess is back again!  Yay! I’m so glad that his role wasn’t just a cameo. 

*Emily’s DAR rant – GOOD FOR YOU EMILY!

*The return of Miss Celine and her amusing old Hollywood anecdotes!

*Christopher looks EXACTLY THE SAME (is there a portrait of him in the attic a la Dorian Grey?)

*The return of Sookie!  I’m so happy Melissa McCarthy could make it back for one episode

*Emily terrifying young children at a Nantucket whaling museum!  Buckets of blood!

*I adore Jess’ interactions with Luke – they are so father/son like, and you can really tell that Jess has grown up.  The scene with Luke in the wedding suit was sweet.

*THE LOOK – Oh, Jess, honey, she doesn’t see you that way.  BUT WAIT…if they make more episodes, will he be her Luke? I almost had trouble catching my breath!

*Paul Anka and PETAL sleeping… Awwwww

*Lorelai’s phone call with her mother.  I couldn’t stop crying from this moment on.

Some general thoughts outside of my earlier post:

I loved the fact that all of the Stars Hollow regulars made appearances in the revival.  I recognized even some very minor players.  Great job for continuity!

Rory’s general sense of feeling lost rang true to me.  She had always been a high achiever and hadn’t faced real disappointment outside of Season 6. 

Luke and Lorelai’s difficulties also seemed believable. I’m very glad they didn’t drag this out too much and gave them a GOREGEOUS and intimate wedding.  And I’m delighted that Rory got to join them.  That felt right.

I have a feeling Paris and Doyle will get back together.  They thrive on the drama.

Emily’s evolution has been fascinating to watch.  From having the large picture of Richard in the living room of the mansion, to her embracing of a new maid and her family, to her liaison with the honey badger, and finally her decision to strike out on her own with a more reasonable reminder of Richard, I cried.  I’m so happy for her. She’s coming into her own.

The revival paid a nice tribute to Richard.  Rory’s vision of him at his desk again had me sobbing.

I hate to end my review on a down note, but while it was nice to see a grownup Logan, I wasn’t a fan of his and Rory’s arrangement, mainly because he was engaged to someone else.  And Rory’s cheating on Paul was treated so comically that I found myself becoming a bit irritated.  I can definitely see Rory doing all of this of course, it’s consistent with her character.  I just don’t buy Logan going along with it.  If they had made him not engaged but merely hung up on Rory and having them meet up occasionally, I’d be fine with it.  I didn’t see the need of having Odette and Paul in the picture.  It was an icky note for an otherwise lovely revival.

Since I hate to end my review on a down note, I won’t.  I just want to say how incredible it felt to watch Lorelai, Rory, and Emily figure out their relationships to each other.  The mother-daughter-grandmother-granddaughter bonds were portrayed with such love, nuance, and realism.  I couldn’t believe what I was watching on my screen.

And hee hee - Gypsy is Berta!  OMG!!!!

WHAT A FANTASTIC SHOW. 

I WANT MORE.

Tagging @zacscottysnl and @loosey-goosey for obs reasons.  ;)

[devils-gatemedia]

Ask your average punter what the words, “gunter glieben glauchen globen” mean to them, you’re likely to be greeted with a shifty look and a hurried escape. Say it to a Def Leppard fan, and watch as that knowing smile creeps across their face, arms raised to the heavens declaring: “I got somethin’ to say!” It really is a special family of devoted enthusiasts the Sheffield boys call their fans, and as they proved on Tuesday night to a 13,000 strong crowd at Glasgow’s SSE Hydro, they’ve got no intention of burning out or fading away just yet.

It’s been 31 years since Def Leppard’s smash hit album ‘Hysteria’ was released, which has sold over 25m records worldwide and received widespread critical acclaim. As Joe Elliott proudly reminisces with a nostalgic sigh: “August 3rd 1987…” he takes a moment to glance around, eyes landing on a young fan at the front of the stage, “…You weren’t even born!”. Even though the years have weathered their appearance (although you could argue Phil Collen is in the shape of his life), their spirit and passion for the job clearly hasn’t wained.

As an anniversary tour, the main course tonight is of course a full rendition of ‘Hysteria’ from start to finish. The starter proved to be the ideal appetiser to such as feast, as Cheap trick came on to show they’re another ’80’s treasure that would rather sleep when they’re dead. The Glasgow revellers were instructed to brace themselves for “the best fucking rock band you’ve ever seen”, before Robin Zander stormed the stage in a diamanté jacket and white cowboy hat. An audacious start to the proceedings… Nevertheless, it didn’t take long for the Illinois four-piece to vibe with the Scots, and before long, the hall was bouncing to the sounds of “The Flame”, “I Want You to Want Me” and “Surrender”. Guitarist Rick Nielsen was on particularly good form, keeping the ageing rockers on their toes as he cycled through his never-ending carousel of custom made Hamer guitars (including the infamous 5-necked monstrosity).

The traditional Clint Eastwood curtain drop intro is tonight replaced by a digital countdown before the word ‘Glasgow’ in neon, lights up the backdrop and the spotlight lands on Phil Collen, shirtless, tartan trews, and massive boots. As the boys launch into “Women”, something is strikingly noticeable, on occasion the Hydro can suffer from sound issues but tonight, it is just superb. I thought I might have found the Hydro’s sweet spot but others from around the Arena concur, the sound was awesome. The first six songs from the “Hysteria” album are as strong a start to any gig you could wish for. 20+ million copies sold, 96 weeks in the US top 40, and the first six songs released as singles, with five hitting top twenty either at home or the US… and remember, this was back when a top twenty single actually meant something, but it is the seventh song that stands out tonight.

When Def Leppard graced the stage, it was clear that August 3rd 1987 wasn’t the only significant date being commemorated this evening. The life of Steve Clark, commencing April 23rd 1960 and ending far too soon on Jan 9th 1991, was emblazoned across an image of a wistful looking Steve, guitar across his knee, provoking a roar to rise up from the appreciative crowd, and tonight the prequel to “Gods Of War” is the Steve Clark solo from the “In The Round” video. It’s a fitting tribute and a classy move from the Def Leppard lads, as Clark is largely credited as being the principal songwriter on ‘Hysteria’, and despite his 27 year absence, he is still very much a part of the band today.

New boy, Viv Campbell gets his moment in the spotlight, looking very dapper and healthy after his recent health scare. Joe informs us that it’s taken five years for the band to fulfil their intention to tour the Vegas show, but it’s been well worth the wait. Closing off the album run through with “Love And affection”, it’s reitterated that there are no weak ‘filler’ songs.

So, after playing “Hysteria” in full, there is still some time to fill, and a 40 year back catalogue to choice from. The guys close the set with blistering renditions of “Let’s Get Rocked”, “When Love And Hate Collide” and two belters from “Pyromania”… “Rock Af Ages” and “Photograph”

Tonight, Def Leppard played a blinder. The sound was perfect, the light show was truly spectacular, and the guys played out of their skins. It is fitting that in the week that they finally get inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame, they have never sounded better or more deserving of the honour.

As always, Joe leaves the stage stating, “If you don’t forget about us, we won’t forget about you”. After that show… no chance. Gig of the year.

Review: Fraser Doig

Images: Callum Scott

Live Review: Def Leppard/Cheap Trick – Glasgow Ask your average punter what the words, "gunter glieben glauchen globen" mean to them, you're likely to be greeted with a shifty look and a hurried escape.