#and then Jonathan has a fun little talk and includes a part where you knock before entering

[jonathanbyersphd]

Jonathan *high as a kite* explaining to El that the plants are super safe but she can't tell Joyce as El nods along

[oliviayamaoka]

The Roseville Murders (Chapter 2)

Hi, just wanted to say I adjusted the plot slightly and will go into more detail with the story next chapter! This was a bit experimental and I wanted to write the growing relationship / rivalry between Y/N and Danny. I also wanted to write Y/N as a girlboss and to be just as witty as Danny!

Anyways, please comment any ideas or suggestions you may wanna see in future chapters! I have this planned out but would love any ideas or stuff I can add into the story! Tysm for reading!

It rained softly outside as you took a seat at your workplace. The desk was a bit cluttered with your art, notes, junk, and your papers regarding your current investigation.

One of the drawings on your desk was a sketch of Ghostface’s mask, attached to it was a few notes regarding the origin of the mask. Did Ghostface care for the history of it, anyways? You already theorized he was a narcissist who took pride in his work. Perhaps, he admired Edward Munch and his infamous “The Scream” artwork? Or maybe he based his persona off of it? You weren’t too sure but you did research the distribution and the company that made the masks. It wasn’t a particular popular company but it only distributed to the USA, Canada, and Brazil.

Ghostface didn’t seem too caring when it came to where he stabbed victims. As long as there was a lot of blood and something only he could perceive as art. And maybe you too. You felt excited, you already had a three year timeline. Maybe, you could get ahold of other states and ask if there’s been similar killings. Maybe even Brazil and Canada? You had to pinpoint a location and see if you could find just one name, any name.

Three years. Three countries. A part of you doubted he was Brazilian. Maybe Canadian? You weren’t so sure, you were pretty sure he was American. Y/N would probably have to go to the library tommorow to do research and use the slowly growing internet. Your research was suddenly halted when you knocked your sketchbook over.

Our slid a page. You kneeled down to pick it up, holding it as you examined the dark sketch. On the paper was a sketch of claws? No, they also looked like tentacles. Ever since the incident, you had dreams of these tentacle claws grabbing you and pulling you away from life as you know it. It must’ve been a sign of trauma or maybe it represented what happened through the nightmares? You slid it back into your sketchbook, deciding not to dwell on it. It would only make your room feel more depressing.

Beside your sketchbook was your leather journal. Y/N wrote everything in there, for mental health reasons. You included the incident and what Jonathan did for you. Your previous therapist said journaling your thoughts helped the healing process. It worked but journaling about how you killed your abuser was hell.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when your phone rang. It was a chunky, black mobile phone you got about a week ago? Y/N reached for it and answered.

“Hello?” You answered, using your other hand to organize your desk.

“Hello?” A voice answered, it was a male by the sound of it.

“Hi, who’s this?” Y/N asked, paying no mind to the phone call as she started to put some of her stuff away. Art supplies.

“Who’s this?” He replied.

“Y/N L/N, am I who you’re trying to reach?” You asked, sitting back down.

“Ah, you’re no fun, detective.” He chuckled as you stopped, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Who was this?

“My apologies but, this is my personal phone. Can I ask who gave you this number?” You questioned him.

“Why does it matter, gorgeous? I know it’s you now.” He responded.

“Please don’t call me that. And yes, I am indeed a detective but I’d feel more comfortable discussing anything with you on my work phone.” Y/N said sternly.

“Oh, yeah… Detective L/N, huh? Think you’re some sort of hotshot because you’re new? Where did you come from? Washington? Gonna take more than the feds to catch me.” He said to you.

You listened intently and stopped for a moment. Catch him? Must be a stupid prank. Although, not a funny one since he had your personal phone number. An eyebrow raised as you looked at your notes on Ghostface.

“You still haven’t told me your name. Let’s not be rude, yeah?” You responded, being a little more cocky since you were off-duty.

“Awe, don’t tell me you forgot my name. I’ll give you a hint… I’ve been quite famous lately. In fact, I think you’ve taken quite the interest in me, Y/N.” The man teased. It was 100% Danny.

“I asked for a name, not an alias.” You said.

“Maybe after dinner, hotshot.” Danny said to you as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m not in Roseville to play games. Either verify you are who you claim to be or quit wasting my time.” Y/N spoke with a stern tone.

“My last victim had three stab wounds to the throat. It was going to be two but their scream wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. And they had a tattoo on their upper thigh. Bella Smith.” He said as you froze for a moment.

It was true. The latest murder victim was a middle-aged woman named Bella Smith who worked at a convenience store. She had multiple stab wounds but it was pretty much impossible to see she had three wounds on her throat just looking at photos of the crime scene.

“Okay and how did you get my number? I imagine the infamous Ghostface doesn’t have access to these types of things. How do I know this isn’t some sort of elaborate prank orchestrated by my coworkers?” You questioned.

“Honey, I am Roseville. Also sounds like you have experience with these kinds of things. You ever get humiliated like that?” Danny asked, grinning widely.

“No, it’s just a very logical conclusion. And why would you be talking to me anyways?” You asked him.

While you spoke to him, you quickly wrote down what he said and what he sounded like. You quickly speculated what his age may be, maybe 25?

“I keep tabs on the cops who are investigating my work and to be honest? They’re all stupid, it’s pathetic. Although, I noticed something about you. You come from one of the big cities, don’t you? You’re actually smart compared to those other pigs.” He said.

“Those pigs you speak of have tried their best in pursuing you. They have families too.” You responded.

“Really, huh? You’ve only been here three weeks? I think you should just trust me on this one because those other officers really don’t know what they’re doing. If you actually find out who I am, are they gonna give you credit? The newbie? A woman?” He asked.

“I don’t understand why gender is an issue. And why would they try to steal credit?” You questioned.

“They’re stuck in this shit hole city and I bet they could just really use a promotion right now. They want so badly to be the hero that arrests me… but first, they’ll let the freshly graduated detective do the work. It’s so easy to overshadow women in this world.” Danny said.

“Well, I don’t care. As long as you’re put behind bars.” Y/N responded.

“The bars at this station? I must say, your desk is quite cute. A bit plain but I like your style… interesting files too.” He mused.

“Huh?” You responded, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Your lil’ office at the station, I like it. This place has always been easy to break into. You noticed it too, didn’t you? Their security sucks and their morgue is just too damn small.” Danny said as you frantically looked around, shoving your shoes on.

“I’m going to call them right now and tell them you’re there. That was a stupid move on your part.” You said, practically yelling.

“So young and naive. I’ll be long gone.” He responded, chuckling as you hung up.

“Fuck, shit!” You said, quickly dialling the number to the police station.

You practically flung your door open, sprinting down the hallway and out through the front doors of the apartment complex after three flights of stairs. Your heart rate increased as you continued running down the sidewalk, feeling more frantic when there was no answer.

“Answer…!” You yelled, calling the emergency number.

“911, how can I help you?” A staticky voice answered as you continued running.

“I’m Detective Y/N L/N! Please inform the police station that there’s an intruder! He might be armed and dangerous! Do not touch anything since there may be forensic evidence!” You instructed.

“Oh—yes, right away, ma’am!” The dispatcher answered as you hung up, continuing to focus on your running towards the station.

Back at your apartment complex, there stood Danny with his own mobile phone. It couldn’t be traced back to him since it was stolen and he didn’t leave any DNA on it. If anything, it had the previous owners. Bella Smith. Your apartment complex had fire escape stairs outside your window. Easy enough, he thought. His outfit was black and had some stuff hanging off it. Strings? Ribbons? Danny was quite quick and extremely quiet when it came to climbing the set of stairs.

He reached your window, pulling it open gently and hoisting himself through, landing gently whilst kneeled down. For precaution, he had his knife gripped in one hand. This was purely for investigation and to see what you truly had on him. His head tilted curiously as he noticed your desk. Your art and notebook. His gloved hand reached out to your sketch of him.

Danny was truly impressed at how detailed and good it was. He read through your sticky notes and theories. Other than the fact he was blown away, he knew you were a threat since you successfully guessed his age range and height. Wait, his height? You did a careful examination of the footage he was in, looking at objects around him and his boots to correctly guess a height.

“What the fuck…?” Danny muttered as he looked at your notes.

The Scream by Edward Munch and a costume company? He skimmed over your notes and the psychological profile you built on him. He felt somewhat panicked since you were indeed no joke. His gaze averted towards your leather notebook. Eagerly, he grabbed it and opened it. Most of it was your thoughts and causes of your stress and anxiety. He stopped flipping through when he saw a darker page. It was dark because of the writing and how crumpled it seemed.

December 23rd, 1992

I was walking down an alleyway two weeks ago. It was cold so I had a jacket over my uniform. I suppose that’s why the man didn’t know I was an officer.

At first, I thought that he was going to try and rob me. It took me a while to realize that my money and belongings wasn’t what he was after. I suppose it would be appropriate to say that I was in shock for a moment. He never finished what he started. Despite being in shock, I was able to feel everything and the adrenaline only helped my rage.

Why? Why did this have to happen to me? After getting him off, I pulled my gun out and he stopped. I still remember the look on his face after I shot him. He was scared and pathetic, as he was in life. I don’t regret killing him. I never will. I just feel utterly violated. Never once have I been touched like that so violently. Is this what this fucked up world has come to? What if I didn’t have my gun and training?

He definitely did this to other women… he deserved to die. And I would do it all over again to him and to other men just like him. Of course, I had to call the police. They were going to charge me with manslaughter but they said that they would push this all under the rug, just as long as I never tell anybody. Did I contribute to corruption in the police force? This getting out would ruin everything. I don’t know but I do know that this was my gift.

Freedom was my gift for killing that man. It felt oddly exhilarating. I hope nobody remembers him, I hope his family know what kind of monster he was. Anyways, I’m being reassigned somewhere. They said they’ll give me my first investigation. In a smaller city.

Danny’s fingers trailed over the page. He felt angry and sad for you. That this happened to you. But, something arose in him when he kept re-reading that paragraph. You… enjoyed it? Behind the mask, he had a soft expression on his face. He imagined your beautiful face full of blood with you and your gun. He smiled gently as he kept the notebook.

He did indeed feel bad for you but he wasn’t satisfied with his limited knowledge of you. Danny decided to use this notebook of incriminating evidence to hold some leverage over you. Not only that but he figured he’d get to know you better if they had something interesting to talk to you about. Danny couldn’t help but grin when he thought about your journal entry and the sketches you made of him. So smart yet so naive.

Danny quickly took a look around your apartment to see all points of entry. He took a peak into your bedroom, it was neat and tidy. He seemed somewhat paranoid so quickly went back to your living room window, making his swift little escape. Not without taking some of your notes on him and your sketchbook.

About two hours later, you rubbed your eyes in frustration as another officer came to talk to you. There was a forensic team still investigating your little office space. Apparently, there was nobody here and your office seemed untouched. For about thirty minutes, you inspected any points of entry and tried to look for out of place shoe marks since it rained outside.

“Detective, are you certain it was the killer who called? We get prank calls a lot.” He said as you nodded.

“Yes, I’m certain. It was him, he knows I’m going to catch him soon.” You said as he nodded a bit.

“Okay, well, we’ll take it from here. Come early tommorow.” He said as you sighed.

“I will but please, don’t miss anything. I’m starting to think he was lying. It was him though.” You said as you turned, walking down the hallway towards the exit.

It seemed to be evening at this point and the rain stopped pouring. It was slightly humid but the city looked oddly beautiful when it was wet? You couldn’t stop thinking about your phone call with Ghostface earlier. Y/N already had some tech professionals try to track the number he called from and all of the information regarding the phone company. You’d have to wait two days at the latest for the results to come back.

As you walked through light puddles, you felt more and more tired. All the running and frantically searching for him was enough to just make you exhausted. It was all last-minute too. Y/N stopped dead in her tracks when she felt her mobile phone ring. You pulled it out of your pocket and answered it.

“Hello?” You asked, tired.

“Hey, gorgeous. Just wanted to apologize for my little deception trick earlier.” He responded as your eyes widened.

“Ghostface…” You responded, shocked that he had the courage to call you again.

“God, hearing that from you…” He said with a slight husk as you took a deep breath quietly to calm yourself.

“You know I’m close, don’t you?” You questioned him as he chuckled.

“Of course, I do… only these hands of mine can do wonders for you.” Danny said to you as you scoffed.

“You’re disgusting.” You say to him.

“Don’t lose your temper now, detective. There’s… things we should discuss.” He cooed.

“Things? Seriously?” You asked him, already tired of his bullshit.

“Yeah! Like, this lil’ notebook of yours! Really deep stuff… Victor Houston, was it? The serial rapist? Must’ve felt real good to put him down, didn’t it? Did it feel as good as you said it did in this thing?” He asked as you froze.

You probably let out a small whimper of shock as your hands trembled. Your heart pumped hard and fast. It was all you can hear as you felt your face heat out of pure embarrassment and shock. He… read your journal? This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good.

“W-What…?” You asked as he cackled.

“God, you’re so hot when you sound scared. Don’t be offended though, babe. You still sound real sexy in your cop tone.” He said as he continued.

“Yeah, I read all about the guy you killed. And how it was all covered up to accommodate you. Are you a star student or something? It’s hard covering up murders… or has it always been easy for you?” He asked.

“I-I, um… how did you get that…?” You asked him, trembling.

“You see, Y/N… we’re the same. You and I are too smart for Roseville. It’s just that I got the upper hand this time. While you rushed to the police station, I took a quick trip into your apartment.” He said as you let out a light gasp.

“Yeah, that’s right! I know where you live, I know where you’re from, and your number. I know who you truly are, Detective Y/N L/N.” Danny said mockingly.

“And what are you going to do with it?” You asked him.

“Always so straight to the point. I might give that annoying little journalist Jed Olsen. You’re trying to work with him, aren’t you? You mentioned in one of these notes… you also think he’s handsome.” He said as you covered your eyes.

You fought tears.

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask.

“I should be asking you that. I’m a bit jealous you find someone like Olsen… attractive. He’s so boring, so normal, so… ugh, I hate talking about him. Still though, nice to know I have another fan besides him.” He said to you.

“Where are you going with this?!” You snapped as he chuckled darkly.

“I won’t tell anybody. Just as long as you halt your investigation for a while. I still want to have fun in Roseville here and well… get to know you.” He said.

“Go to hell.” You muttered.

“How original… so what’ll it be? I kinda need to know now since I’m also on a bit of a time crunch.” Danny asked you.

“W-What the fuck do you want me to do? Sit back and watch as you kill more innocent people?! I won’t let you.” You said with a venomous tone.

“What are you gonna do? Stop me behind bars?” He asked mockingly.

“Fuck you.” You said.

“I’m sure we will. But first, I just want you to sit back and not do anything stupid. We’ll see each other eventually. I’ll call you from another phone soon.” He said, hanging up.

You held your phone in disbelief and quickly made sure you had your gun. How the hell could you have been so dumb?! It was genius, leading you away from you apartment and finding such leverage against you purely out of luck. Your breath trembled as you walked back to your apartment, having your gun ready in your pocket as you did so.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Concussion- Prompt Fill

Jon falls out of a Kayak

CW nausea, concussion, hospital mention

Thanks for reading! I am still accepting bingo prompts (Bing card by the wonderful @celosiaa​)! Tell me a character and which prompt, and let me know if you want art or writing! The starred prompts are ones I already have received, and probably have outlined! (I am much faster at art just fyi).  Sorry this one took so long, I wrote it a week ago and hated it! 

Jon doesn’t like the outdoors.  In his experience it’s loud or wet or sandy or bright or crowded or filled with bugs or hot or spider ridden or just generally uncomfortable.  

But that doesn't matter, because he needs to prove that things are alright with Tim.  He has finally earned enough trust or goodwill or something to be invited on a kayaking trip.  

Even back when things were good, Jon rarely got invited along to these things.  Tim knows Jon isn't the outdoorsy sort, but occasionally invites him so he doesn't feel excluded.  

A traitorous part of Jon thinks that he was only invited as a joke.  But more of Jon doesn't care if that is true.  He earned that invitation, and it doesn't matter that he is baking in the heat or that driving to the lake made him carsick or that he already has 30 mosquito bites and counting.  He.  Does.  Not.  Care.  

It doesn't matter because he is here with Tim.  And Tim is having a good time.  

They paddle around the secluded lake for a couple hours.  Jon almost has fun.  He isn't having a bad time.  Tim has been cracking jokes, and Jon is having something adjacent to fun.  Not to mention... it just feels damn good to be included.  Usually it's Tim and Sasha, or on occasion Tim and Martin.  Not that this is the first time since... everything that Tim and Jon have been alone together... it's just.... Kayaking is important to Tim.  And Jon rarely merits such a heartfelt invitation.  And even if it isn't really his scene.  It's worth the itchiness, and sore muscles, and carsickness and oppressive heat.  It is all worth it.  

Jon doesn't really know how he ends up in the water.  One minute he is breathing hard, his back and shoulders burning after all that paddling, trying to convince himself that he probably doesn't need his inhaler (that he left in the car in any case), the next... he is in the water.  Life vest dragging him towards the surface... or where the surface would be if the kayak wasn't in the way.  

He cracks his head on textured, blue plastic, and it doesn't even have time to hurt before Tim is hauling him out of the lake.  

He can't say it really hurts.  Just the surprise, and  the moment of timelessness and involuntary tears when something smacks a person from nowhere.  The brief moment of everything being a little too sharp and a little too blurry all at once.  

He coughs as he breaks the surface and Tim's strong arms lift him back into the kayak as if he weighs nothing (which... Martin would say is the case).  It's probably the firefighter training.  

Water is streaming off him, and there is some sort of weed tangled in his hair.  

"Boss, you alright, there?" Tim clapping him on the shoulder, almost knocking him out of the kayak again.  (Jon isn't sure if the fact that it is a two seater is better or worse).  "Whoa there!"

Tim is steading him again.  He's honestly feeling a little dizzy and a little distant.  But that's probably just the surprise, right?  Probably.  

"Not your boss," he grumbles, trying his best to scowl despite how Bright everything is, and how he really is very very damp and how maybe jeans weren't his smartest move today.  He lets that hang for a beat.  "...Thanks Tim."  

He offers a tiny smile, trying not to shrink in on himself, like he did... back then.  

"Fine, you alright, buddy?  What even happened?"

Jon shrugs.  "I'm in one piece, I think."  

Tim fishes in the water for Jon's dropped paddle.  "Maybe it's time we head back, wouldn't want that to happen again.  I need you in top form if you wanna come out again with me!"  

His head is starting to hurt.  

Jon flushes slightly.  "I'd... really like that, Tim."

Tim hands him back the paddle and they head back towards shore, and the car, and their respective domesticities.  

The headache isn't exactly gone by the evening, but it isn't bad.  Not worth telling Martin about, although he couldn't escape Tim telling Martin how he fell out of the kayak, and having Tim show Martin the pictures of one very damp and disgruntled Jonathan Sims dripping in the kayak, and Jon in Tim's spare workout clothes in the car.  And Jon looking faintly ill with ginger ale clutched tightly with eyes closed on the way back.  And of course the selfie with Tim giving him a sloppy cheek smooch while Jon wears a truly terrible hat that he has no idea why Tim owns.  

Tim stays for dinner.  

By the time that Jon wakes up, Martin has already left for work.  

His head hurts.  Not migraine bad, but he makes a mental note to tuck some excedrin into his bag just in case.  Best to be prepared for these things.  

He drags himself upright with a groan, trying to ignore the way that the room tilts for a few moments as he gets up.  

School.  

Right.  

He's got work today.  And as long as Martin isn't there to be disappointed in his decision making, a headache is not going to stop him.  

It's too bright outside, and Jon isn’t hungry for breakfast.  Tea counts as breakfast, right?  That's good enough.  There's milk and sugar in there... that has to have enough calories to count for something, right?  It's fine.  

Halfway through class, Jon has to sit down.  Abruptly.  His lecture trailing off into a dizzy silence.  

The headache has become too distracting, the tilting of the room around him making it hard to stay tethered to the Earth's gravity.  He presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids, trying to stop the listing of the room.  

He hears a student calling his name, but he can't make himself parse out who.  And the Eye doesn't seem inclined to tell him.  

Which is probably for the best, because he is beginning to wonder if he can take much more headache.  

He doesn't know how long he's been down, but Martin is there now.  

Fluttering hands, checking him for a temperature, coaxing him to look up, shielding him from the fluorescent lighting.  

Jon leans into the cool of his hand.  

Martin's hands in his hair, smoothing away the bedhead, Jon forgot about before leaving the house.  Jon making an embarrassing sound as he relaxes into the touch.  

Until Martin reaches the crown of his head, and Jon hisses in pain.  

Martin has been talking to him the whole time, but the ringing in his ears has been too distracting to make out words until now.  "Jon?  Love, did you hit your head?  Can you look at me?  Tim said you fell yesterday, did you hit your head?"

Jon struggles against the painful light to meet Martin's gaze.  

Martin is shining a pen light in his eyes.  

Jon tries not to feel betrayed.  But the light Hurts.  And he just wants to go back to bed, and be held, or maybe have Martin bring him an ice pack, and he's starting to feel sick as well as dizzy.  

"Jon-love, we should get you to a hospital.  I need to get you actually looked at."  

Jon whines in complaint, but doesn't have the energy to argue as Martin guides him up, folding against Martin's chest, when his legs try to give with the pins and needles of inactivity.  

He doesn't want to go to the hospital.  It's bright and he is very tired.  And he feels so guilty that someone... probably one of his students called Martin in when Martin had likely just gotten off his shift and should be at home and sleeping and not scraping Jon's ass off the floor again.  

It hadn't been this bad earlier!  He's fine!  Really!  

"Jon-love, why didn't you say something?"

And Jon tries not to cry.  "I was fine... didn't hurt then."  

Martin tuts over him and holds him close.  

The hospital is just as bad as he fears, and he's pretty sure he guilty cried on Martin at least once, and possibly also took a nap in the waiting room, but when it's over, Martin shoos Jon into a waiting cab, and trundles them both home.  

Jon is dozing on the couch, because Martin is making dinner and he can't bear the thought of being farther away than one room over, and Jon has never been comfortable about the idea of eating in bed.  Breakfast in bed (Or dinner in this case) sounds good in theory, it just sounds messy and awkward in practice.  His phone has been confiscated after he sent a brief email to his students.  Martin wasn't happy that he already was ignoring the don't look at screens and don't think too much instructions.  

That will be an argument for tomorrow, and the next day until they eventually reach a compromise.  One Jon knows Martin won't be happy about, and one Jon will feel the bite of guilt over, but his students need him, and it really isn't a bad concussion.  He might let Martin fuss over him a little more than normal, but only until the extra work catches up with Martin.  Then it will be Jon's turn to look after him.  

“Jon, Tim just texted.  He says he’s sorry he didn’t know you were hurt, and that you don’t have to go with him again.”

Jon wants to cry again.  He breathes as deeply as he can, trying to draw courage into his lungs.  “Could you… tell him I Want to go?  I promise this won’t happen again?  I… had fun… and I want to go kayaking with him.”  

Martin enters the room with his phone in one hand, and a spatula in the other.  He kisses Jon’s forehead softly, and starts to type one-handed.   

“And please tell him to not feel badly?  I didn’t really notice until …well until you got called.  It was just a headache until then.  Not even a bad one.”

“Of course love, just tell me if it gets worse, alright?”

Jon hmms in agreement.  

[voiceless-terror]

Proficient in PowerPoint (The Magnus Archives)

Summary:

“Why are there so many animations?” Jon tapped his foot impatiently through the unnecessarily arduous process of getting to the next page. “I’m not a child. This is for Elias, not a primary school.”

“I thought they looked nice…” Martin said softly, shuffling his feet. “I can take them out, if you’d like-”

“They’re wonderful Martin, don’t listen to him."

Jon has to make a presentation for Elias. Sasha, Tim, and Martin help, with dubious results.

“It’s standard procedure, Jon. Every new department head does a presentation.”   “But I-” Jon left off with a sigh. Being called up to his boss’s office at the beginning of the day to be informed that he would be making a presentation to all of his intimidating colleagues (and superiors, if he were being honest) was not the way Jon wanted to start his Monday. Besides, what was he going to say? How could he explain this mess of an Archive that was currently under his command? That he didn’t really know what an Archivist did, and that when he googled the position it didn’t seem anything like what Elias had described? He might as well get in front of the room, announce his resignation and go home. Somedays this felt like the best course of action.

 He’d heard the whispers following the email announcing his promotion to Head Archivist.  “Him?”  was said more than once. A few scoffs, a few appraising eyes from the other department heads who were all at least a decade older than him. Even Sasha and Tim had given him a sort of silent treatment, only speaking to him in short sentences and one-word answers in the weeks that immediately followed.

Elias seemed to sense his unease. “It doesn’t have to be long. Just a rundown, a simple assessment of the Archives as they are and what you plan on implementing during your tenure. Perhaps a little about you and your team. Introduce yourself. Everyone’s eager to learn a bit more about you.” Jon very much doubted that.

 “Well the Archives, in my “assessment,” are currently a mess.” His candor was not appreciated. Elias was not amused.

 “A mess that you’re going to fix,” Elias gave him a withering glance. “I assumed you could handle this, but if that’s not the case-”

 “No, I-” He sighed again, the only sound he was capable of making. “Al-Alright. You said it was this Friday, correct?”

 “Yes!” Elias gave him a brief smile and ushered him out of the door with a hand on his shoulder, signaling the conversation was over. “Let me know if you have any issues. Not that you will, of course.”  Of course.

 The door shut behind him and Rosie gave him a sympathetic look from her seat. “You hang in there, alright? You’ll do just fine.” Either Jon looked that pathetic, or Rosie truly did eavesdrop on every conversation.

 Perhaps a bit of both.

 __________

 It was Wednesday evening and Jon was staring at a blank screen.

 Everyone else was packing up for the day while he sat in his chair, stewing over what words to write. He should be recording statements like Elias  wanted, not putting together some bureaucratic nonsense so the others could ‘get to know him and his plans.’ He didn’t really have a plan for the Archives besides digitization, and even that was going disastrously. Should he even mention the tapes? He’d likely be met with scorn and laughter. Elias may find them promising, but anyone who took one look at their equipment said otherwise. Google told him that he should share fun facts about the team but that seemed highly unprofessional. Who cared that he liked to watch documentaries in what little spare time he had? Instead, he’d written a very bare-bones outline of what he’d like to say but for some reason typing it out was impossible. The only thing he’d managed to get was a layout and font in neutral, unobtrusive colors. This was very important to him. 

 “Still stuck on the presentation, Jon?”

 Sasha was leaning against the doorway with a gentle smile on her face. She knew how hard it was for Jon to get his thoughts together sometimes and was always a sympathetic ear when it got particularly bad. She seemed to have finally settled into her role (whatever that may be) and was talking to him more and more. Though no one in the department had any experience in archiving, Sasha at least had more concrete ideas.

 “Yes, I’m just-” he sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing his temples to ward off the approaching headache. “I’ve got no idea what he wants. What is a ‘rundown’ and how can I have one with the Archives like...this?” He gestured to his mess of an office, currently drowning in paper and cardboard boxes.

 “Well, what do you have so far?” Jon grimaced and handed over his notebook, filled with messy scribbles and half-finished ideas. Sasha skimmed it and made a few promising noises; Jon hated the part of himself that sought her approval. She finished and looked up with a grin. “How about you let me have a go at it? You know I love this sort of thing, and then you’ll have some time to record that statement tomorrow, hm?”

 “I-really? Would that be okay? I don’t want you to have to- I mean, it’s my job.”

 “I’m your assistant, Jon,” she interrupted with a placating hand. “So let me assist you!” Her offer seemed very genuine. Jon was loath to ask for help or admit to trouble even in the best of cases, but Sasha had a way of wearing him down with one well-placed smile. He decided to take the hand offered. 

 “Thank you, Sasha. Really.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a grateful smile, glad for any progress made on the project.

 “And it’s no problem. Really.” She tucked his notebook into her bag and gave a cheerful nod.  “I’ll show you what we come up with!”

  ______

Jon yawned into his fist for the fourth time in an hour. The Amy Patel statement wouldn’t record on the computer so unfortunately he brought out the tape recorder. For some reason every time he recorded to tape he came away exhausted and anxious, unsettled by the words he spoke. Luckily he managed to get to the follow up recorded without too many interruptions- usually one of his assistants would come banging on the door and he’d be forced to start over for the sake of professionalism. 

 “Knock knock!” 

  Speak of the devil.  Tim grinned at him from the doorway, Martin standing close behind him.

 “Yes?” he asked shortly, straightening the files on his desk. “Do you need something?”

 “Your presentation, as requested!” Tim bestowed upon him a flash drive with much pomp and circumstance. “You’re welcome.”

 “Oh! Er, I thought I gave that to Sasha?” He looked in surprise at the device before him. He wasn’t expecting them to actually finish everything- he also wasn’t expecting anyone but Sasha to help him out. If Tim and Martin helped out as well... “I’ll uh, check it out in a few moments, thank you.

 “But I want to show you now, boss!” Tim’s voice reached the whiny pitch that he knew Jon loathed. He sighed however, and plugged it in. After a few moments a window popped open, with a file labeled  Jonny’s First Work Presentation.  He rolled his eyes while Tim snickered.  I’ll need to change that before the meeting…

 The file looked...hellish, to say the least. Jon spied on the first few slides a strange and ugly gradient background that faded from bright green to black, along with garish rainbow WordArt. He was almost afraid to click on anything, lest it blind him or inspire a seizure.

 “It’s really best viewed in slideshow mode,” Tim nudged Jon’s hand out of the way and made it so, the full screen now proudly showing the title page-  Jonathan Sims’ New and Improved Archives!!   Martin and Tim leaned in over his shoulder, the latter clearly excited to showcase his work.  That’s never good.

 “That’s far too many exclamation points, Tim.”

 “There are never enough exclamation points, Jon.”

 The next slide came in with a sort of shutter effect that did nothing to minimize the horrendous resizing done on the Magnus Institute logo, which had been stretched to fit almost the entire page and was unrecognizable due to pixilation. Jon gritted his teeth. “This is unnecessary.”

 “Wow, everyone’s a critic,” Tim rolled his eyes.

 “I-I can probably find a logo with better resolution,” Martin offered timidly. Jon had almost forgotten he was in the room. 

 The next pages were not much better- the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of ‘archive,’ the audio pronunciation for it had a page to itself. There were several collages of books and artifacts (these looked handmade, as if someone had copy and pasted several finds from google images). Jon felt his anger grow with each laborious click. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? Where was Sasha? “Is there anything of actual substance in this?” he asked, huffing as the current slide disintegrated out of view in a dramatic fashion.

 “God, so impatient! We’re building up to it.” A few more clicks. They got to a page covered with cartoon ghosts and nothing else. “Watch this!” With a click the ghosts all flew away, a clunky piece of animation that revealed  Jonathan Sims’ Plan of ATTACK!!

 “I did that one,” Martin announced in his ear with not a little pride.

 The ‘plan of attack’ included bullet points (which were also little ghosts) regarding the new digitization and accessibility project in clear, cogent prose which must have been the work of Sasha. The rest, however- random paragraphs about ‘synergy’ and ‘dynamic team players’- was clearly unsalvageable and designed to make him the laughing stock of the institute. 

 “I can’t...this is unusable, Tim!”

 “Keep reading! There’s good content there. God, there’s no accounting for taste these days, is there Martin?” Martin did not answer. What could Martin have said? Each page was worse than the last- the current slide had only a picture of what looked to be an ancient Egyptian scroll and nothing else.

 “This is the definition of unusable.”

 “No it’s not!” Tim argued though he was on the verge of laughter. He was smiling, clearly enjoying the entire scenario. “Look, I even put a ‘Meet the Team’ section-” He clicked through the slides, each piece of text gliding across the screen in an obnoxious star pattern. 

 “Why are there so many animations?” Jon tapped his foot impatiently through the unnecessarily arduous process of getting to the next page. “I’m not a child. This is for Elias, not a primary school.”

 “I thought they looked nice…” Martin said softly, shuffling his feet. “I can take them out, if you’d like-”

 “They’re wonderful Martin, don’t listen to him,” Tim had finally reached the first slide of his ‘Meet the Team’ section. Instead of starting with Jon it began with an incredibly large photo of Tim, smiling and winking at the camera.  Naturally.

 “Tim Stoker: A Gentleman and a Scholar,” Jon read aloud. “I’m not saying that. And shouldn’t we be starting with me? I ask for one thing-”

 “I saved the best for last, of course! Martin, you’ll  love this,” Tim began frantically clicking through animations, taking a full minute to get to Jon’s slide. “Ta-da!”

  Jonathan Sims: The Man, the Myth, the Legendary Archivist

 It was a picture of Jon from a happy hour years ago, smiling broadly with half-lidded eyes and sprawled across the bar in a state of disarray. He had a vague memory of Sasha snapping the photo before he fell to the ground and vomited everything he drank.  No no no no  - he attempted to slam down the laptop screen before Martin could see but the damage was done. The man was red and stuttering, clearly embarrassed for Jon. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm down. He contemplated his options- double homicide or self-immolation. Both seemed equally appealing in the moment. 

 “Please leave,” he fumed, his own face a tomato red as he stared at the floor. “Now.”

 “Aw boss, don’t be like that-”

  “Now!”  Two sets of footsteps scurried from the room as Jon threw his head into his hands.

 He had quite a bit of work to do.

 _____________

 Of course he scrapped almost all of it, keeping only the informative parts that Sasha had written.  This is why you should do things yourself. ‘Assist’ my ass. 

 Jon had kept the door closed for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring both the plaintive apologies from Tim and Martin and Sasha’s insistent knocking. He wanted to blame her for letting the other two get involved, wanted to yell and stamp and maybe throw a thing or two. But it was  his  job. He shouldn’t have left it all to them.  Lazy, incompetent, his mind raged but the words were aimed at himself. Perhaps that’s why they sabotaged the slideshow, to tell him they weren’t going to do his dirty work. Hazing the new boss.  Did they realize how important this was to him? Did they even care? He already looked like a fool- why not double down on it?

 He took the ‘Meet the Team’ page down, his fingers angrily punched the ‘delete’ key for every picture and turned it into one slide with only their names and positions.  That’s all they need to know, really.  He managed to throw together a few slides on a new organizational system and something about research follow up, but it all rang false and hollow- any academic would see right through this bullshit attempt. Even the digitization slides seemed trite- why was this his first order of business?  What the hell are you doing?

 It was late into the night when he finally finished, though the presentation was nowhere near what he wanted it to be. The clock informed him it was only ten though, so he still had some time before the last train. He was just going to rest his eyes for a minute and then he’d get up and go.  Just a minute...

  ____________

And then it was tomorrow.

 Fuck.  Fuck! 

 Jon woke up with his head pillowed in his arms and his back almost completely immobile. He squinted at the clock-  7:00 AM. He tripped down the hallway and into the bathroom to freshen up, splashing cold water on his face and cursing under his breath. How embarrassing to be caught in yesterday’s clothes- if he switched out his sweater vest for a blazer, they might not notice. His wardrobe was nothing if not consistent and boring. His hair tamed into some semblance of neatness, Jon went on to his next stop, the break room for a cup of coffee and then finally, back to his office to survey the finished product and perhaps do a few run-throughs.

 He settled in his seat and pressed the power button to coax his laptop out of sleep. The clock on the wall ticked a steady, droning rhythm that somewhat calmed his racing heart and he took a sip of coffee, savoring the bitter flavor. His eyes flickered down to the screen- still black. He pressed it again. Nothing. He looked to the side of the computer, noticing the lack of power cord.  Oh, it’s not plugged in. That’ll do it. He solved that problem quickly and tried again.  

 Again, nothing. He pushed it harder, hurting his finger with the intensity behind it. The screen remained black.

 It was then that Jonathan Sims screamed.

 _____________

It was nine in the morning and he still had no idea what to do. No amount of coaxing, either through nice words or obscenities had managed to wake it up. He removed the battery and put it back in. He prayed to several gods, none of which he believed in. He kicked the desk and promptly fell to the ground, screaming in pain. IT didn’t come in until ten, and his meeting was at nine-thirty. He was well and truly fucked.

 But then he heard footsteps coming down the hall and he dashed to meet them, hoping it was the person he needed. And it was.

 “Sasha!” he panted, taking in heaving, gulping breaths. “Help!”

 “Oh God Jon, is this one of your asthma attacks? Do you have your inhaler?” Her eyes widened and her hands fluttered nervously. ‘I’ve told you-”

 “No,” he grabbed her by the shoulders, feeling more unhinged by the moment. “I-I lost it. The PowerPoint. My laptop won’t turn on, and-”

 “Breathe, Jon! That’s no trouble at all. I can get into your drive, no worries!” she said, pushing him into a chair and booting up her laptop. Jon put a hand to his chest, attempting to follow her advice.  See, it’s fine!  “Where did you save it? On your ShareDrive or on the general Archives one? I’ll need your credentials if it’s the former.”

 His heart dropped.  No no no no. He’d done the one thing Sasha had always warned him against.  “I-I saved it to the desktop…”

 “Oh Jon.”

 And that's when he spiraled. He was going to have to walk into that meeting, hands empty, and face the firing squad. Elias will know he should have never hired him and everyone there will nod and agree that the stupid boy who couldn’t do one simple task does not belong at the table with the rest of him and Jon will be sent on his way, back to research if he’s lucky or fired if he’s not and he can’t do one fucking thing right-

 “Jon. Jon!”  Sasha had a hand on his shoulder, firm and grounding. “Fucking  breathe. It’s fine, you’re fine! Here.” She slipped the flash drive from yesterday into his hand and he groaned, attempting to pass it back

 “I can’t use that one, you know I can’t-”

 “No, this one’s different, I promise,” She grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I tried to tell you yesterday- I’m sorry about all of that. It wasn’t funny. We fixed it.” She seemed honest, sincere. But Jon was still hesitant, taking in shaking breaths.

 “This isn’t a joke?”

 “I swear. Here, use my laptop.” She passed it over and Jon paused, considering his options, which were few.

 So Jon took the flash drive and laptop and left, ignoring Martin’s greetings as he brushed by him on his way up to the conference room.  Here goes.

 _____________

 “Erm, h-hello,” Jon coughed, clearing his throat. “I’m Jonathan Sims, the new Head Archivist, as Elias...already said, I guess.” He let out a nervous laugh which no one returned. Elias nodded, urging him to go on.

 Jon had made his way to the room with fifteen minutes to spare, giving him some time to boot up the computer and load the presentation. A quick, nervous glance let him know that it was much changed- at least the first few slides. He shook hands with each department head as they came in, trying to see which of their smiles and congratulations were sincere. The answer? Very few. This was not comforting. 

 His hands shook as he clicked his way to the first slide, his heart pounded in his chest to reveal-

  Bringing the Archives into the 21st Century- A Plan for Updating and Digitizing the Institute's Statements

  Well that’s not bad at all.

 He began to speak, his voice gaining clarity and confidence with every sentence. The presentation was lovely- incorporating his preferred neutral color scheme, a great improvement on the nauseating colors of before. The animations were minimal and sleek, making the transitions meld seamlessly from slide to slide. There was a bit introducing Gertrude’s past work and a dig at her filing system that earned him a laugh. There were new slides regarding the preservation of documents, a new organizational structure, the introduction of a database. All ideas they’d briefly spoken about before committing themselves fully to the digitization process as Elias instructed. Everything was written in his favored academic tone- so natural that Jon found himself speaking extemporaneously on the slides he felt more comfortable with. It was all met with approving nods and a studious gaze from Elias that Jon couldn’t parse. There was also no mention of the tapes.

 The dreaded ‘Meet the Team’ section had been heavily reworked- each one of them had the headshot from their IDs (poor Martin had his eyes closed) and a mention of which department they’d transferred from, along with their credentials. It was professional and informative, everything Jon had wanted it to be. Sasha had outdone herself.  Sasha should be the one making this presentation. 

 He tried to ignore the guilt settling in his chest, even as he smiled back at the approval from the academics he so desperately craved. He clicked to the last slide, which had their contact information and-  oh. It was a picture taken from his birthday a few weeks back, where they all looked fairly presentable and were smiling, no idea of the task ahead of them. Elias was there too; Rosie had taken the picture at Tim’s insistence. His audience tittered, though it seemed to be in good humor rather than mocking.

 “Ah, yes. Th-Thank you for your time.” He quickly turned it off and stared at the ground, his face warm with both embarrassment and a creeping sense of belonging that he didn’t know what to do with. He was startled when a small round of applause began and he looked up with wide eyes to find a smiling audience. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elias nod and smile as well and he finally felt the sense of accomplishment he’d longed for since the start of his promotion.  

 The room cleared rather quickly (no one really wanted to be in a Friday meeting, after all) but Jon was stopped by a tall, smiling woman he had only seen in passing. “Sonya from Artefact Storage,” she reminded him, shaking his hand again and giving him a warm smile. “I’m looking forward to talking to you more about that database. I was always telling Gertrude she needed one, but of course she never listened to me. Stubborn to the end!” He could only stutter, too overwhelmed to formulate a proper response. A hand reached out to his shoulder.

 “That was nicely done, Archivist.” For some reason the title made Jon feel odd, like he was having an honor bestowed that he had not yet earned. Elias wasn’t that much taller than him, but he always seemed to loom over Jon. “Quite the presentation. Lots of...ideas. But I must stress the importance of getting the statements-”

 “On tape, yes, yes,” Jon said, quick to agree. “I just thought, er- I should let them know some of our other objectives, as well?”  Seems like Sasha wanted to, at least.

 “As long as you don’t forget yours,” A pointed glance. Jon gulped nervously, shoving a hand in his pocket. “Still, a good job all around. That Sasha of yours seems like a good asset. Enjoy your weekend.”

 Jon froze in the doorway. Did he know?  Of course not, don’t be silly.  He shook his head and left the room. Well, at least that’s over with.

 ____________

 “Did it go alright?” Sasha asked immediately upon his entrance. He managed a self-deprecating smile. 

 “Surprisingly, yes. That was-  thank you, I guess.”

 “No trouble at all,” Tim jumped out from the break room, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Always knew you had it in you. A consummate performer, I was telling our Martin-”

  “Tim!”  He scowled and tried in vain to shove him away, still irritated by his presence.

 “Seriously, though. Sorry about all of that before. Just trying to lighten the mood, I swear we wouldn’t have actually left you with that-”

 “It’s- It’s fine,” Jon sighed, reluctantly giving in to Tim’s insistent affection. “Well, not really, but it turned out alright in the end.” Sasha gave an encouraging grin.

 “Did you like the photo?” Martin asked anxiously, hovering in the corner of the room. Jon paused. He considered telling him no, that he would have never put it in there himself and considered it rather unprofessional on the whole, but one look at Martin’s face told him that was the wrong move.

 “Yes, Martin,” he said, summoning up the equivalent of a smile. “I liked the photo.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142390

[aion-rsa]

25 Best Sports TV Shows

https://www.denofgeek.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/TV-High-School-Travel-Guides.png?resize=400%2C400

Sports stories have traditionally belonged to the movies. Something about the rhythms of competition, in which an athlete or team trains, plays, and then either wins or loses, is a natural fit for the film world’s three act structure.

Television, with its multiple episodes and seasons, is often more discursive and therefore less viable for truly great sports stories. Thankfully, that all seems poised to change. While some sports TV shows have found success in the past, now the medium has really kicked things up a notch. Sports stories like Brockmire, Ted Lasso, Cobra Kai, and more are not only welcome on television, but an essential part of the cable and streaming landscape. 

Read more

TV

The United States of TV High Schools

By Alec Bojalad

Movies

The Best Sports Documentaries To Stream

By Scott Fontana and 2 others

With that in mind, it’s high time we pay homage to TV’s great sports programs. What follows is a list of 25 of the best sports TV shows of all time, hand selected by Den of Geek (i.e. me: the arms-crossed weirdo in the picture at the bottom of this article). 

It’s important to keep in mind that these are the best scripted sports TV shows. Television is, of course, no stranger to live sports and the various programs that surround them. Consider these unscripted American sports shows as honorable mentions: Hard Knocks, Last Chance U, Ken Burns’ Baseball, The Last Dance (and most other 30-for-30s), Cheer, Inside the NBA.

Enough of the undercard, now onto the main event. 

25. Red Oaks

Amazon Prime’s Red Oaks examines the bougie tennis lifestyle of the 1980s. It all comes through the lens of David Myers (Craig Roberts), a college student looking to pick up some cash by taking a summer job at an upscale Jewish country club in New Jersey. Sports stories and coming-of-age stories fit particularly well because the end goal of each one is usually growth. It’s hard to say whether David grows during his time at Red Oaks, but he certainly changes over the series’ three seasons. 

24. The Mighty Ducks: Game Changers

A TV show based on Disney sports movie behemoth franchise The Mighty Ducks was all but an inevitability, particularly when the major conglomerate secured its own streamer in Disney+. We’re all lucky then that The Mighty Ducks: Game Changers turned out to be quite good rather than completely perfunctory. The show is bold enough to recast its Ducks’ franchise as the villains and to rally around the radical idea that youth sports should be fun. 

23. One Tree Hill

At first glance, One Tree Hill doesn’t seem too different from the other teen shows of its era on The CW (though The CW was still “The WB” for One Tree Hill’s first two seasons). It’s about high schoolers in a small town, doing high school things. Where One Tree Hill excels (at least in its early, still high school seasons) is the introduction of basketball as a storytelling crutch. Half brothers Lucas (Chad Michael Murray) and Nathan Scott (James Lafferty) have a turbulent enough relationship to begin with. What better way to contextualize that relationship than through the high stakes lens of high school basketball?

22. Lights Out

Not to be confused with the 2016 horror film of the same name, Lights Out is a boxing series from FX that ran for one excellent season in 2011. Holt McCallany (best known now as Agent Bill Tench on Mindhunter) stars as retired heavyweight champion Patrick “Lights” Leary. Despite displaying signs of neurological trauma from his career, Lights can’t help but want to return to the ring for one more shot of glory (and to pay off his family’s many debts). Lights Out is a sad, elegiac little story about how one man who sees a sport that broke his brain as the only realistic option for success. 

21. Big Shot

Big Shot premiered shortly after its bigger-named Disney+ cousin The Mighty Ducks: Game Changers. And while Game Changers made a slightly bigger splash, Big Shot might be the better sports show. The story follows Marvyn Korn (John Stamos), a tempermental basketball coach who ends up at an elite all-girls prep school to shepherd its basketball program. Big Shot runs through all the tried and true tropes and beats of sports stories and does so with aplomb. Consider it Hardball meets Hoosiers with plenty of Stamos charm. 

20. Hangin’ with Mr. Cooper

Sports are somewhat incidental to Hangin’ with Mr. Cooper’s mission. Sure, lead character Mr. Cooper (Mark Curry) is a former Golden State Warriors basketball player turned PE teacher. But like its TGIF programming block peers, this show is a charming hangout comedy with few lasting conflicts to speak of. Still, you don’t spend that much time in a gym without some three-pointers and lay-ups. 

19. Coach

Before Craig T. Nelson was Mr. Incredible (or made this truly amazing televised statement), he was best known for portraying the title role in ‘90s ABC sitcom Coach. In fact, many of our archetypical perceptions of what makes a football coach likely come from Nelson’s portrayal of Coach Hayden Fox (who first coached for a fictional NCAA football team and later an NFL one). This is a man whose skill at molding young athletes belies his lack of skill at…well, everything else. Ultimately, Coach is a worthwhile multiseason experience in which a grown man grows up.

18. Kingdom

Kingdom is probably the best sports TV show that you’ve never heard of. Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. That’s just the kind of thing that happens when a show is damned to languish on AT&T’s ludicrous “Audience Network”. Kingdom is set in an MMA gym and captures all the drama provided in the heightened world of mixed martial arts combat. The show is blessed with some great characters and an even better cast. Frank Grillo (Captain America’s most annoying foe, Brock Rumlow), Kiele Sanchez (Lost), Matt Lauria (Friday Night Lights), Jonathan Tucker, (Justified)  and Nick Jonas (yes, that Nick Jonas) all make their mark on the series.

17. The White Shadow

Premiering in 1978, CBS’s The White Shadow was uncommonly progressive for its time. The series follows Ken Reeves (Ken Howard), a white NBA player who retires after a knee injury and elects to take up coaching at Carver High School in South Central Los Angeles. Coach Reeves’s team is made up primarily of Black and Hispanic players and the show deals with the social ills of life in the inner city. It’s also quite funny and charming and features a commitment to realistic basketball scenes.

16. The League

FX comedy The League works as a sports show (and as a TV show in general) because it has a deep understanding of sports from a fan’s perspective. Sure, fans watch collegiate and professional sports to marvel at the athleticism, training, and skill on display. But more importantly, they watch sports to have something to talk about with their friends. Though the participants in the titular fantasy football league at the center of The League grew up as friends, who’s to say they would have stayed friends so long without this league keeping them together? Ruxin (Nick Kroll) is an asshole. Andre (Paul Scheer) is annoying. And Taco (Jon Lajoie) is, well…Taco.

15. Rocket Power

If the ‘90s taught us anything it’s that extreme sports are sports too, man! Rocket Power is a lovely little slice of life Nick Toon that follows four kids in a fictional California surfing community. Otto Rocket, Reggie Rocket, Maurice “Twister” Rodriguez, and Sam “Squid” Dullard spend their days skateboarding, surfing, playing street hockey, and occasionally snowboarding. It’s a wonderful ode to childhood and all the athletic activities that make the day (and years) go by far too quickly. 

14. Luck

If things shook out differently, perhaps Luck could have been considered one of the five or so best sports shows of all time. All of the pieces were in place. This 2012 HBO series had the right creative team (created and run by Deadwood’s David Milch and starring Dustin Hoffman with a pilot directed by Michael Mann) to go along with an intriguing premise (complicated characters’ lives intersecting at a horse track). But alas…the dead horses. Oh so many dead horses. Despite stringent safety measures put in place, Luck lost three hoof bois during filming of its first season and was canceled shortly thereafter. May they all rest in peace.

13. All American

High school is a turbulent time in all our lives. And when the high stakes world of competitive football is added in, things can only get more intense. The CW’s All American opts to take the world of high school football and opts to add in a welcome dose of sociopolitical commentary. This series is loosely based on the life of former New York Giants linebacker Spencer Paysinger and follows his character “Spencer James” as he is recruited from South L.A. to play for the affluent Beverly Hills High. The show wisely understands that sports (particularly when they involve Black teenagers) are a marvelous portal to explore American society. 

12. Pitch

Cruelly cut short after just one season of 10 episodes, Pitch is the kind of sports show that will inspire sports stories for years to come. This baseball series for Fox comes from Dan Fogelman (This Is Us) and Rick Singer. It follows the saga of Ginny Baker (Kylie Bunbury), who becomes the first woman to play in Major League Baseball when she’s called up to pitch by the San Diego Padres. Pitch was blessed with an excellent cast including Bunbury and Mark-Paul Gosselaar as a veteran catcher nearing the end of his Hall of Fame career. More interestingly, it was blessed with an actual MLB licensing deal. There are no silly fictional teams in this show like the Tuscaloosa Barn-Burners or the Helena Hellcats. It’s all real MLB team names and logos, adding to the realism of a cool premise.

11. Ballers

Of course, Elizabeth Warren’s favorite show has to be on this list. Ballers has a bit of an unearned reputation for being cringe thanks to its ridiculous name and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s delightful cornball energy. In reality, this is an exceedingly watchable TV show and one that examines the corporate side of professional sports quite well. It’s also noticeable for being most viewers’ introduction to eventual Tenet star John David Washington. 

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10. GLOW

Is professional wrestling a sport? Vince McMahon would argue that it’s “sports entertainment.” I would argue that that’s more than good enough to get the excellent GLOW on this list. GLOW tragically fell victim to Netflix’s whimsical cancellation procedures. Why the almighty algorithm decided a show needed to be canceled after it was already renewed is beyond me. But don’t let that sour three seasons of superb sportsy storytelling. GLOW follows the fictionalized rise of the very real “Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling” and it centers it on the conflict between two former best friends, Ruther Wilder (Alison Brie) and Debbie Eagen (Betty Gilpin). GLOW differs a bit from the usual sports fare in that the “sport” at its center wasn’t necessarily plan A for the athletes. But the experience of watching the ladies train, grow, and succeed is pure and sublime sports story stuff.

9. Cobra Kai

Cobra Kai absolutely could have been phoned in. The streaming world runs on nostalgia and there’s nothing more sweetly nostalgic than The Karate Kid franchise. Instead, this Netflix series changes the original franchise’s perspective by focusing on the “villainous” Cobra Kai dojo and re-examines things from Johnny’s point of view. Ralph Macchio and William Zabka deserve credit for embodying realistically adult, yet flawed versions of their original characters. Equally deserving of credit though is a whole host of young actors bringing the martial arts to a whole new generation. 

8. Blue Mountain State

A lot of the shows on this list are, let’s say, reverential to the sports, teams, and athletes they cover. Spike comedy Blue Mountain State is decidedly…not. This series, following the Mountain Goats football team for the fictional college Blue Mountain State, understands that not all depictions of athletes have to be saints. Sometimes college football player can just be the big dumb animals you want them to be. Through three seasons, this show developed a cult following that would follow it over for a lifetime of reruns on Netflix. Blue Mountain State is crass, dangerous, and entertaining, not entirely unlike football.

7. Sports Night

Speaking of being reverential to sports…like all Aaron Sorkin-created TV series, Sports Night can be a bit full of itself sometimes. That only works when the topic at hand, like the federal branch of the U.S. government, is consequential. Thankfully, sports can be pretty important sometimes too! This late ‘90s show follows the goings-on at a Sportscenter-esque news program hosted by Dan Rydell (Josh Charles) and Casey McCall (Peter Krause). It has all the witty dialogue you’d come to expect from a Sorkin venture. And if you can make your way through the inexplicable laugh track of the early episodes, you will find a mature, entertaining show that properly understands and contextualizes professional sports’ role in American society. 

6. Survivor’s Remorse

Survivor’s Remorse came into the world with two strikes against it. One is a bizarrely overwrought name, and the other is that its home network, Starz, isn’t a given on many cable packages. Still, this LeBron James-produced comedy is shockingly one of the best sports TV shows ever (and perhaps still the best creative venture James has been involved in yet). This story follows NBA athlete Cam Calloway (Jessie T. Usher) as he tries to balance the business and basketball aspects of his life. At first the show focuses on Cam’s guilt for having got out of his impoverished neighborhood when so many couldn’t (hence, the show’s title), but ultimately it evolves into a family comedy drama featuring some truly remarkable characters and performances like Cam’s cousin and manager Reggie Vaughn (RonReaco Lee) and his baller half-sister “M-Chuck” (Erica Ash). Even Monica Rambeau herself, Teyonah Parris, is a part of the proceedings. 

5. Playmakers

Sometimes I can’t even believe that Playmakers is real. Surely, this ESPN series about a fictional football team in a fictional league that is clearly the NFL was just a post-9/11 fever dream we all endured together. Alas, Playmakers was real and it was awesome. This series follows the players on the Cougars as they navigate a football landscape filled with ripped-from-the-headlines strife including Performance enhancing drugs, good old-fashioned drugs, domestic abuse, concussions, and more. The series even introduces the outing of a gay player more than a decade before Michael Sam and Carl Nassib revealed their sexual orientations. Naturally, Playmakers was canceled when the NFL intimated to its broadcast partner ESPN that it wasn’t too pleased with the content of its show. And enraging the National Football League alone is enough to make this an all-time classic.

4. Eastbound & Down

Eastbound & Down creator and star Danny McBride isn’t necessarily a huge fan of baseball. But he is, thankfully, a huge fan of weirdos and creeps. When McBride discovered just how bizarre and poorly behaved certain flamethrowing relief pitchers could be, Kenny Powers and the show around him was born. The baseball “action” in Eastbound isn’t much to write home about. The show isn’t too concerned with the results of any given baseball game and McBride always looks like he’s throwing a javelin and not a baseball. It’s still a phenomenal saga about athletes that dives into Paul Bunyan-esque tales of legendary misbehavior that fame encourages. It’s no coincidence that in the follow ups to Kenny Powers, McBride has delved into megalomaniacal vice principals and bejeweled, sweaty televangelists – all different aspects of the white American male id.

3. Ted Lasso

Of all the sports shows in the TV canon, none feels more like a traditional sports movie than Ted Lasso. This Apple TV+ series plucks an American football coach-fish and gently places him out of water in the English Premier League. The affable Lasso (Sudeikis) is charged with reversing the fortunes of EPL side AFC Richmond. Little does he know, however, that spiteful owner Rebecca Welton (Hannah Waddington) is counting on him to fail, Major League style. Ted Lasso isn’t interested in reinventing the wheel. Instead it perfects it. This is a tale of relentless optimism and unconditional positive regard. Ted breaks the mold for what we expect from coaches, which is probably why so many actual coaches are fond of the show. Simply put: sports stories can’t be done much better than this one. 

2. Brockmire

Sometimes commentators like to bemoan the modern state of baseball. What was once American’s pastime has now supposedly fallen behind things like football and videogames in the pop cultural pecking order. Then along comes something like Brockmire to teach us that baseball as a continuous, seemingly eternal American presence is just as vital as ever. In a career-defining role, Hank Azaria plays disgraced baseball broadcaster Jim Brockmire. Once at the top of his game, an on-air drunken meltdown loses him his job and his sanity. In season 1 of this superb IFC show, Brockmire returns to the booth, this time for an independent league team in Morristown, Pennsylvania. The four seasons that follow are one big love letter to not only baseball, but the messy human experience itself. It’s rare that you get something this funny and this affecting. The fact that it’s wrapped in a stylish diamond-shaped bow is just icing on the cake. 

1. Friday Night Lights

Not only is Friday Night Lights the best sports TV show of all time, it’s hard to imagine it ever being supplanted from its throne. Simply put, Friday Night Lights is a sports television masterpiece. Each of Friday Night Lights’ five seasons (save for the writer’s strike-shortened second) fully capture the ecstasy and agony of high school football in a small Texas town where high school football is the only thing that matters. Friday Night Lights doesn’t shy away from the unsavory institution that is big time high school athletics.

The series opens with a life-changing injury before following it up with tales of corrupt boosters and garden variety West Texas racism. And yet, the show never looks down on its characters. If winning state is important to Coach Taylor (Kyle Chandler), Matt Saracen (Zach Gilford), Tim Riggins (Taylor Kitsch), Smash Williams (Gaius Charles), and Vince Howard (Michael B. Jordan), then it’s important to us too. In fact, when Friday Night Lights is really rolling and the W.G. Snuffy Walden’s Explosions in the Sky-style soundtrack is swirling, you might not recall anything ever mattering to you as much as the Dillon Panthers or the East Dillon Lions winning a football game. Clear eyes, full hearts, absolutely cannot lose.

The post 25 Best Sports TV Shows appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[signalterminated]

Altered Item S-96 (Control/TMA crossover)

a while ago when i was playing Control i wrote up a little crossover fic for fun. a week or 2 later i found out jonny was streaming control on twitch which was one hell of a coincidence. i figured i might as well post this here in case anyone else finds the concept interesting or fun to play around with.

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

ALTERED ITEM S-96

Description: 

A black and white children's book titled A Guest for Mr. Spider. Story details a cartoonish spider greeting flies as "guests" to his house. There are two doors on each side of the house but no furniture save for a single table with withered bluebells. Each fly has a moniker as a name that refers to their individual species.

Setup for the story is cyclical: one page introduces a fly offering a gift to the spider in an attempt to appease him. Subsequent page heavily implies Mr. Spider ate them after being dissatisfied with the gift. The final fly is shown offering his own son to the spider for reasons unknown.

The doors and Mr.Spider are depicted as being progressively bloodier. Mr.Spider's abdomen is also swollen to gargantuan proportions but the text states he wants more, even desiring another guest for dinner. Last page of the book is a cutaway of the right hand door that simply says, "It's polite to knock."

Ability:

While unsettling, the pages themselves possess no visible paranatural qualities. The reader is instead put into a trance while reading that can only be broken by an outside force or intervention. Age, gender, height, or any other physical characteristic does not seem to affect the potency nor threshold of interruption for this trance. 

The reader is rendered oblivious to their surroundings but is capable of walking, oftentimes significant distances. Furthest distance recorded for this effect was [REDACTED] observed at [REDACTED]. So far no measurable distance has been noted as a "minimum" requirement, though a median of approximately [REDACTED] has been recorded for all controlled tests.  It's possible that the distance a reader must travel is random, or (more possibly) is quantified by factors we are as of yet unable to ascertain. 

The reader eventually reaches a stained door. The door is different colors depending on the environment but the stains remain consistent regardless of locale. If left uninterrupted, the reader will place the book against the door and knock on it. It's uncertain if this is necessary to prompt the next part of the ritual or not, as testing beyond this point is fatal for any subject. 

The door opens to reveal pitch blackness. Shortly after, the reader is yanked inside by limbs described as [REDACTED]. No one taken by the creature behind the door has ever been seen again. 

See S-96-CV-1 for further details regarding testing.

S-96-CV-1

Variables:

Various factors have been tested to determine the strength of the book's controlling properties. Photography had proven to be impossible in both digital and film formats, as any photo taken always comes out completely black, damaged, or distorted beyond recovery. Video recordings of the book being read have been tricky to establish, as digital equipment will almost immediately glitch and stutter within a range of [REDACTED] of the book. Attempting to use even an advanced zoom feature from far away results in similar phenomenon. 

So long as the patient's back is obscuring a view of the book, it's relatively safe to record. Additionally the effect operates in a far more reduced capacity while S-96 is closed, causing glitches and technical issues within a range of [REDACTED] instead. 

Strangely enough, motivation presents more of an obstacle in attempting to monitor S-96. Nearly every agent instructed to photograph or record the book reported a sudden lack of motivation to do so when approaching the containment room. Many formulated excuses for why they couldn't at that very moment. Others simply forgot why they were there. Installing sheets of Black Rock within the containment room helped reduce this effect considerably but did not eradicate it.  

See JS-P1-95 for an interview from the only known survivor. 

JS-P1-95 

Transcript for an audio recording between Jonathan Sims, aged 8, and a child therapist appointed by local protection services. Interview occurred approximately 2 days after the disappearance of [REDACTED].

Therapist: Hi there, Jonathan. 

Jonathan: Call me Jon please, ma'am. 

Therapist: Right, of course. How are you feeling, Jon?

Jon: I'm not sure, ma'am. 

Therapist: Please, call me Imogen. And that’s alright. After what you went through, that’s a very normal reaction.

Jon: Noth—

(There is a brief moment of silence followed by the sound of clothing rustling. Jon is shifting uncomfortably in his seat.)

Jon: Yeah. I guess.

Therapist: What were you going to say, Jon? Remember, I’m not here to judge you.

Jon: O-okay. It’s just...nothing about this feels normal. 

Therapist: How so, Jon?

Jon: You won’t believe me.

Therapist: You told the police that you saw [REDACTED] being kidnapped. They believed you, right? So will I.

Jon: I didn’t tell them everything.

Therapist: And why is that, Jon?

Jon: Because what I saw, it...it doesn’t make sense. It was really dark out but I know what I saw, and...

(Small set of hitching breaths followed by a deep breath. Jonathan appears to be repressing a breakdown very well for a child.)

Jon: It happened so fast but I saw it. It took him. 

Therapist: What took him, Jon?

Jon: Mr. Spider.

(There is a brief onset of soft static here. Most likely due to the age of the recording.)

Therapist: ...Mr. Spider?

Jon: From the book.

Therapist: What book, Jon?

Jon: A Guest for Mr. Spider! He took the book when he pushed me and I followed him a-and he knocked on the door and --

(More shifting, this time including papers and seats. Jon is breathing harder and the rest of his sentence is unintelligible.)

Therapist: Jonathan, take a deep breath. There you go. You’re okay.

Therapist: Now, tell me about this book. The police never mentioned finding a book by that name.

Jon: That’s because he was holding it. Don’t you understand!? The book, it made him go there. It forced him to knock on the door and...and then...

(A small sob followed by the hushed cooing of the therapist. Jon seems unresponsive and there’s the creak of a chair, followed by silence.)

Jon: I don’t want to talk about the book anymore.

Therapist: Okay. That’s okay. You’ve done very well so far.

Jon: I’m not a toddler.

Therapist: I’m sorry, Jon. I know you’re not a toddler, this is a lot for anyone. Even an adult.

Jon: I knew you wouldn’t believe me.

Therapist: Now what makes you think that?

Jon: I can see it. I see a lot of things.

(Recording ends here.)

There are no other audio logs regarding this incident. Additional services were turned down by Jon’s grandmother, [REDACTED], and there are no other records of him seeking out professional treatment in the following years.

For more information regarding Jonathan Sims, refer to JS-19-UAE.

JS-19-UAE

Initial Impressions: 

Jonathan Sims displays a very high intelligence for his age. Whether due to trauma or his orphaned status, he exhibits a world weariness rarely found in a child. This emotional aloofness coupled with a lack of any close relatives might indicate an affinity for future leadership. 

Bureau agents stationed in the UK are instructed to closely monitor his activities for the following 2 years. This is to determine potential eligibility in the Prime Candidate Program and to assess if the Altered Item will return to claim its intended victim.

Pre-Adolescence to Early Teenhood (10-13)

Jonathan Sims has exhibited no further paranatural abilities. He appears to have thrown himself into academic pursuits and has not made contact with any other Altered Items. The book mentioned in his initial therapy session has not appeared within his vicinity, nor has it been reported by any other agent stationed in Great Britain. 

As of now, surveillance will continue, albeit in a reduced capacity.

Teenhood (13-17)

Still no indication that Jonathan Sims possesses any paranatural talent. However, he appears to have a heightened sensitivity to paranatural events and items. There have been at least 4 instances where he nearly stumbled upon AWE’s or Altered Items, only to just skirt by them. Each instance has been logged in a separate report and successfully apprehended before it could catch public attention. 

Whether this is a 6th sense keeping him out of danger — or drawing him to it — is currently unknown. 

Early Adulthood (18-21)

Agents recently discovered the book mentioned in Jonathan Sims's therapy session. It does not appear to be tied to him in any way, given the fact it was found in a check-out bin at the [REDACTED] Library in [REDACTED]. It was contained successfully by [REDACTED] and shipped back to the Oldest House in a crate lined with Black Rock. 

Jonathan himself has become a full time student in Oxford. He has exhibited no latent talents or abilities of interest. Due to his growing age and the fact the book has been found, his eligibility in the Prime Candidate Program has been revoked. 

That being said, he is an excellent accidental bloodhound. More than once his intuition has led him within the range of an AWE or Altered Item. By proxy, we are made aware and are able to act quickly to avoid further disaster. 

Whether these items are reacting to his presence, seeking him out purposefully, or this is all simply coincidence is not yet determined. Closer study could risk exposing Bureau operations, as Jonathan has grown increasingly paranoid since teenhood. Measures have been taken to avoid any further unintended alterations in his usual behavioral patterns. 

Adulthood (22-24)

Nothing to report between college and entering the workforce. His grandmother's death led to a period of instability but nothing atypical of a grieving individual. 

ADDENDUM: Jonathan's habit of accidentally brushing up against the paranatural has culminated in a job at the Magnus Institute.

While not tied to the Bureau, the Magnus Institute has been partnered in some capacity with the Bureau for over 2 decades now. This coincidence has been logged as potentially being influenced by paranatural forces. 

An ambassador will be sent to the Magnus Institute to investigate and negotiate with the current Director of its operations, Elias Bouchard. Extra caution should be exercised to avoid arousing further suspicion from Jonathan or the Institute. 

[bytheangell]

To Fall Again

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Inter-dimensional Travel for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Jimon  Rating: Teen and Up  – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: Multiple Universes, pre-fic character death, angst with a happy ending Summary:   Simon Lewis didn’t think moving on was possible. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to fall in love again. It’s a good thing life rarely waits until you’re ready. NOTE/WARNING: There is no character death that happens within the current timeline of this fic, but there is one that takes place just prior. However, all versions of the characters who appear in and are the focus of the fic itself are, and remain, alive and well!  -------------

Simon Lewis never expected to love again after Jace Herondale. Like everything that came with Jace, their love exploded shortly after the fuse was lit, a brilliant burst of excitement and color and adventure and passion. Most flames that burn as bright as Jace did would be expected to burn out just as fast, but he never did.

And he never would have, Simon was almost certain - too bad they never got the chance to find out before his light was snuffed out instead.

Jace worked as a bounty hunter, it was the family business, and they knew the dangers. They did what they could to mitigate the risks but it wasn’t enough. After it happened Simon wondered if he had it in him to take revenge - he and Jace were polar opposites when it came to a lot of things, a stomach for violence included, but Simon thought he might have it in him for this.

For Jace.

He didn’t get the chance to find out as Jace’s siblings took care of that for all of them. They also looked out for Simon during those first few weeks when he barely left the house, never answered his phone or texts, and was very obviously not doing great. When it was clear Simon needed a change of pace - or at the very least to start leaving the apartment again - they convinced him to take on a part-time bartending job with his friend Maia. They want him to be happy, he knows that - hell, he can tell they even want him to move on - but he knows the latter is impossible and he isn’t so sure of the former if he’s being honest.

He takes the job anyway if only to make ends meet without needing help from the Lightwoods. It turns out to be one of the best decisions he ever made.

New New York is too busy of a city for Simon but he can’t bring himself to move. Ever since it was branded as a centralized hub for Official Interdimensional Travel the influence of people passing through from other worlds nearly quadrupled. Simon is still weirded out by the common use of portals between worlds but many others take full advantage - some looking to start over, others to simply get away for a day or two. A lot of missionary sort of work from more advanced universes to struggling ones, which is cool and all. It’s just a lot, and not for Simon.

Until he sees Jace again.

It’s only been four months since the funeral when Simon catches sight of the familiar blonde hair walking away from him. He does a double-take and nearly brushes it off like he usually does - it wouldn’t be the first time he saw a stranger in a crowd and thought for just a moment it was Jace, knowing full well that it wasn’t - except there’s something more to it this time. Something about the way the figure carries himself, the style of that leather jacket, and when he drops something and turns around to pick it up Simon sees his face for the first time and nearly faints.

It’s actually Jace, but it isn’t his Jace - even from here Simon can see he’s missing a scar on his neck that Jace got when one of his bounties had a hidden knife they didn’t find when they searched him and tried to get free, managing to get one good swipe in before Jace knocked the weapon away.

So not his Jace, but still… Jace.

And then just as quickly he’s gone, lost in the crowd. By the time Simon manages to gather himself enough to try and follow there’s no sign of him anywhere, and Simon doesn’t stop thinking about it for a very long time.

---

The next time Simon spots him he’s coming out from the back with four plates of food, two in his hands and two balanced on his arms.

All four drop to the ground with an unceremonious clatter when the sight of Jace sitting on one of the barstools catches him off-guard.

“Simon, what the fuc-” Maia starts, fully ready to tear into him over the food that’ll have to probably be comped off that group’s bill and re-made on the fly, but when she catches sight of the blonde at the bar she softens immediately.

“Take 30, Lewis. I’ll clean this up.”

Simon stands there, unsure of what to do. Does he leave? Does he talk to him? How does he even begin to-

“Hey, you alright?” Jace asks, leaning over the counter a bit towards Simon.

“No,” Simon says immediately.

“It’s just… you’re looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A ghost. Close enough.

“I.. you…” Simon starts, but he can’t seem to find the words. “Jace, right?”

“Jonathan,” Jace says.

Jonathan Christopher.

“And you are…?” Jace - no, Jonathan - asks.

It hurts Simon to hear, to realize he doesn’t know, but of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

“Simon,” Simon says, with a small, sad smile.

“You’re still staring, Simon,” Jonathan points out.

“Shit, sorry. I should go-”

“Wait,” Jonathan stops him. “Why? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“You look like my ex,” Simon says, then cringes when he realizes how that sounds. “He, uh. He died.”

“Oh,” Jonathan says. “I’m sorry. I should go-”

“No, please,” Simon says, not intending for his voice to sound as pleading as it does. “I’d actually, uh… I mean if you’re going to sit for a drink, maybe we can just chat? Unless that’s too weird. That’s too weird, isn’t it?”

Jonathan smiles, and god, there’s that grin Simon fell in love with. “Not at all. I’ve got an hour or two before I have to head home.”

Simon takes the next hour off - Maia is very understanding - to talk to Jonathan about his life and where he’s from, but it’s over too quickly and soon he’s on his way, back to a universe without Simon.

A universe where he’s still alive and well and thriving.

Simon wonders how many more versions of him are out there.

He never expects to actually find out.

---

The answer is a lot. It seems like no dimension is complete without its own Jace Herondale, or occasionally Wayland or Morgenstern. Sometimes he goes by Jonathan or J.C.; sometimes he’s a chef, or a soldier, or a pianist; sometimes he recognizes Simon and sometimes he doesn’t... but at the core of him, he’s always just Jace.

Simon talks to one or two of them when they cross paths, usually stopping in for food or a drink during their travels. The only problem is that they’re always on the way to somewhere, and never stay long enough for him to really get to know.

He knows how absurd that desire is, the desire to have these other Jace’s stay, and-- and what? Because whatever Jace comes through isn’t his Jace - he has a job, a family, an entire life to get back to, he doesn’t want to stay and comfort Simon.

Until one does.

Jace Herondale is the grandson of Imogen Herondale, a well known and wealthy politician in the dimension he’s from. He travels for fun because he’s a bit of a troublemaker and his family decided it was better to let him wander and do his own thing if that’s what keeps the family name from being dragged through the dirt.

Simon knows this because they talk, and when it becomes increasingly apparent that Simon doesn’t intend on kicking him out of the bar Jace stays until close and then admits he doesn’t have anywhere else to be if Simon wanted to grab a nightcap.

They end up back at Simon’s apartment. Nothing happens, but they talk some more, and Jace stays the night on the sofa. He stays the night after that, and the one after that, too. Simon offers to trade-off and take the sofa, and when Jace refuses he hesitantly offers to share the bed instead.

Just to sleep, they agree - until sleeping together leads to, well, sleeping together, and Simon isn’t sure how he feels about it.

Simon is, however, sure how he feels when this Jace Herondale leaves a week later with murmured apologies about needing to do some damage control back home.

After that, Simon goes a little numb. It’s like losing Jace twice, in a way - he knows it isn’t the same, he knows he shouldn’t have hoped for this new thing to last, but he had. And now that it’s gone his heart breaks all over again at the cold, empty space beside him in bed.

He tries to ignore the next time he catches sight of another dimension’s Jace, except it’s one where Jace knows him, so Jace approaches Simon instead. Attempting to avoid him is one thing, but Simon can’t bring himself to brush off Jace once he’s standing there in front of him with that infectious smile and gleam of mischief in his eyes.

Simon can’t bring himself to grow too attached, so he does the only logical thing: he shuts down entirely. He tries to convince himself he’s fine with one night stands, forces himself to go through the motions with the constant reminder that it isn’t him, that there’s nothing there.

He hates it.

Perhaps the lesson he’s meant to take away is that he needs to stop trying. No one else is going to fit the mold of exactly what he needs, to know what he’s going through and what he’s missing. They can’t, and he shouldn’t expect them to.

The easy solution is to go back to passing acquaintances - little chats from behind the bar that end there with nothing more. No hopes to crash, no expectations to fall short of. Better than nothing, and safe.

He’s okay with it. Not the fake, forced okay he was with the casual hook-ups, but actually okay. It’s a taste of what he wants, of what he’s missing, and since he knows he can’t have it all it’s a realistic expectation to allow himself.

And then for a while, he stops crossing paths with any other Jace’s, or J.C.’s, or Jonathan’s. He wonders if maybe they warned all the other dimensions about the weirdo bartender in New New York who talks too much and always manages to say the wrong thing, and maybe they’re avoiding him. Or maybe he just came across as many as there were, and that’s it. After all, there may be an infinite number of realities, or dimensions, or whatever out there, but it isn’t as if they have access to all of them. He should be lucky to have found as many as he did.

Days pass, and then weeks, and then months. It never gets easy, but it gets a little easier, and Simon finds himself falling into a pretty solid routine. He’s made some friends at work, mostly through Maia, but they still totally count and they all go out some nights after work. And work is actually going great - he’s an assistant manager under Maia now, which only comes back to bite him in the ass sometimes.

Sometimes like this night, in particular, exactly one year after Jace’s death, when he decides to cover for not only Maia who is on vacation but two other employees who called out sick. And of course, there’s some sort of bachelorette party or something that drags at least twenty customers to the bar who seem determined to order non-stop overly complicated mixed drinks and shots - on top of the entire rest of the restaurant’s worth of drinks he has to make. He wanted a distraction tonight, sure, but maybe he should’ve been a bit more careful what he wished for because he’s about to lose his goddamn mind, and--

--and then there he is. On this day, of all the days, it feels more like seeing a ghost than ever before. His blonde hair falls softly across his forehead and into his eye, and he pushes it away just as he looks up and makes eye contact with Simon. Jace. Of course, there would be a fucking Jace doppelganger here, tonight, right now, and-

“Si?”

Jace’s voice is soft, pained, and Simon’s thoughts stop dead. As does the rest of him. He has a million things to do and is in the middle of turning around with a bottle in his hand to make some shot with a name he can’t repeat with a straight face, but he just freezes at the way Jace is looking at him. Unlike the other times, this feels different, somehow. Like fate, a small voice in the back of his head offers, but Simon is quick to quiet it.

And then someone is literally snapping their fingers to get his attention and he doesn’t have much of a choice other than to give Jace an apologetic grimace before mouthing ‘sorry’ and going back to making drinks.

He keeps an eye on him, though, watching as Jace lingers before finally approaching the bar. Simon is still drowning in drink orders but since Jace is actually at the bar now he can at least go over for a second, even just to see what drink he wants.

“Can I get something for you?”

“What?” Jace asks, then shakes his head. “Oh. No,” he starts, but then seems to realize that means Simon is going to leave again so he quickly amends his answer. “I mean, yeah. I’ll take a rum and cola.”

Simon nods, and grabs for the bottle and the soda hose, pressing the ‘cola’ button and watching as the brown carbonated soda mixes with the bottle of rum he turns over into the glass at the same time.

“Sorry,” Jace says as Simon makes the drink. “About earlier. That was creepy of me. I didn’t mean to be- it’s just you-” Jace stumbles over his words.

“You have a Simon, in your world, don’t you?” Simon offers, and Jace looks relieved that Simon understands.

“Yeah,” he says, and Simon notes the way he hasn’t broken eye contact since he came over like Jace is afraid to look away and lose him even though Simon clearly isn’t going anywhere other than the other side of the bar and back.

“Hey, another drink down here, sometime tonight maybe!” An impatient man yells from the other end of the bar, and Simon winces.

It’s only then Jace looks away from him and down the bar. “Are you alone back there?”

Simon nods. “Perks of being the boss, I guess. Everyone else called out,” he admits. “It’s fine,” he adds quickly.

“Doesn’t look fine,” Jace points out.

“Fine, it isn’t fine. I’m dying. I think my wrists are going to fall off and if I have to make one more buttery nipple shot for that bachelorette party I might actually cry,” Simon admits in a rush. “Happy now?”

“No,” Jace says. “But I can help.”

Before Simon knows what’s happening Jace’s rum and cola is empty and Jace moves to the small opening at the end of the bar.

“You can’t come back here,” Simon says, but Jace only cocks an eyebrow.

“Says who? You’re the boss, aren’t you?” Jace grabs a nearby white towel and drapes it over his shoulder, already rolling up his shirtsleeves. “Want the help, or not?”

Simon knows that Maia will have his head for this but right now he can’t be bothered to worry that far ahead. He just needs to survive until close. “Ask me if you can’t find something, or don’t know a recipe, or-”

“Relax, Simon. We got this,” Jace promises, and Simon can already feel the panic and tension fading at the reassurance.

They do have this. In fact, they work together so well anyone watching would think they’d been doing it for years, and by the end of the night they’re calling out for bottles closer to the other and tossing them back and forth without a second thought. Simon doesn’t know if Jace is just good at making things up as he goes or if he really knows his stuff, but he doesn’t ask about a single order that comes his way, and they clear out the last customer minutes after closing.

Simon counts out the register, takes well over half the tips they made that night, and folds the bills over to hand to Jace.

Jace looks at the money like he’s never seen it before. “Keep it,” he says.

“You just saved my ass,” Simons points out. “It’s the least I can do.”

Jace only shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Just… being here. This? This is more than enough. You have no idea-” he starts, but the words catch in his throat. “Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait,” Simon says, instinctively reaching out to grab Jace’s wrist to stop him. He knows he shouldn’t - just passing acquaintances, he reminds himself. But there’s something different about this time, about this Jace. “What is it?”

Jace hesitates, and then in a voice so quiet Simon almost doesn’t hear it, says, “I lost you.”

Jace realizes the slip-up the moment it leaves his lips. “Him,” Jace is quick to correct. “I lost him. My Simon.”

Simon isn’t sure what look crosses his face at that, but whatever it is has Jace shaking his head back and forth. “Yep, that’s too weird. I knew it would be. It’s just… it’s been a year, and you aren’t the first Simon I’ve run into from another place, but when I saw you here, tonight, it was like… like…”

“Like fate,” Simon offers, voicing the thought he had previously. “It isn’t too weird,” Simon adds because he doesn’t want this Jace to leave, not yet at least. “I lost you, too.”

Simon wraps up his shift faster than he ever has before, moving fast despite the exhaustion he feels starting to settle in. Jace sits at an empty table while Simon finishes everything he has to do to close the bar down, having a drink or two while he waits, and then Simon makes a drink of his own before joining him.

The longer they talk the more Simon knows the similarities are too specific to not mean something. It’s been a year to the date for both of them, they both had an Alec and Isabelle and Maia of their own to help them through, and Jace was a bartender before he and his Simon met.

“I actually haven’t poured a drink since,” Jace admits, swirling the liquid in his glass around a bit. “It was a totally random robbery-gone-wrong, and Si was playing a set at the bar that night. Wrong place, wrong time.”

“My Jace’s was an occupational hazard. He was a bounty hunter,” Simon admits, and the Jace in front of him spits out his drink in shock.

“I what?” he says, eyes wide. “Fuck that’s intense.”

Simon laughs. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

The hours pass and soon it’s late, they’re both a little on the other side of sober, and it’s obvious that Simon can’t send Jace off alone like this, not that Jace seems to have any inclination to leave on his own. Simon waits for the little voice in his head to tell him to send Jace back home anyway, that this is all just going to lead to awkwardness and regret and disappointment… but the voice never comes.

Simon can definitely feel that it’s different this time, and he’s pretty sure Jace can, too, because they get each other in ways that the others never had. It isn’t that Jace’s Simon broke up with him, or that they never dated, or that they never met each other at all. This time each knows exactly what the other needs because, for the first time, they’ve both been through the same loss.

They get back to Simon’s apartment and Simon tosses Jace a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to change into. Neither of them says anything but Jace has to realize it’s a pair that used to belong to Simon’s Jace with how perfectly they fit him.

“I can sleep on the sofa,” Jace offers, but Simon shakes his head.

“You don’t have to. I mean, if you’d rather, that’s fine. But… I wouldn’t mind the company.” Simon doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath in anticipation until Jace nods and makes his way towards the bed, and all of the tension and anxiousness eases out of Simon at once. Jace goes to the left side - his side - and Simon goes to the right.

He doesn’t have to ask as he moves forward at the same time Jace shifts back toward him, their bodies fitting together perfectly, and Simon begins to drift off with his arm wrapped around Jace, lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

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

For a few moments, Simon forgets where he is. He’s wrapped around the warmth of another body, just like he dreamed of so many times - except this isn’t a dream. In fact, this is more than he let himself even dream of lately. For a moment Simon forgets and it’s as if nothing bad has ever happened in his life.

But then Jace stirs beneath him and he’s forced to acknowledge the reality of his situation - that this, like all the other times, can’t stay forever. Simon just waits for the other shoe to drop while they wake up, and eat breakfast, and spend some more time talking and even watching some mindless reality tv show; until Simon has to go to work and has an awkward moment where he expects Jace to leave with him, except Jace stays on the sofa.

“I’m… I have to go to work,” Simon says, not for the first time that day.

It seems to click very abruptly in Jace’s head that this isn’t his place, and of course Simon expects him to leave when he leaves.

“Oh. Right. I’ll just…” Jace starts, and only at that moment does it become apparent to Simon that Jace hadn’t planned on leaving.

“You can stay, if you want,” Simon is quick to tell him. “I’ll be back in a few hours. There’s plenty of food, and the tv, and video games and stuff?” He sounds unsure, but Jace almost immediately eases back into the sofa.

“Thanks,” Jace says, and Simon realizes he’s relieved that he can stay.

Jace also stays the day after that. And the day after that.

And Simon realizes, slowly but surely, that Jace doesn’t plan on leaving.

Simon brings up the fact that Jace has an entire life he just casually up and left- not because he particularly wants to, but because he knows they have to talk about it eventually - but Jace just shrugs.

“I told Alec and Izzy where I am. I think they’re actually kind of relieved to know I’m at least out and about” Jace says, settling back against Simons’ shoulder while they watch a movie on Simon’s day off. “But whenever you want me to leave just tell me. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

That’s just it - Simon doesn’t want him to leave. Ever. But he also can’t bring himself to say it, so instead, he just mumbles something noncommittal and turns back to the movie.

It’s nearly a week later when Jace tells him he’s going back home to check in with his siblings. Simon doesn’t expect him to come back at all, figuring this has to be it, this is Jace’s way of sliding off without making a scene and the inevitable heartbreak Simon feared all along.

Jace leaves, and Simon fully expects to never see him again.

So when Simon’s getting ready for bed that night and he hears a knock at the door, his heartbeat races at the implications. It can’t be… can it?

When he opens the door to see Jace on the other side, suitcase in tow, he doesn’t know what to say.

“Hey,” Jace starts. “I know this is… well, Alec said it was ‘incredibly presumptive’, but… I’d like to stay. If you’ll have me. And if not, if it’s too much, or too weird, I get it, and just say the word and I’ll go back-”

Simon steps forward to close the space between them, cutting off Jace’s rambling by pressing their lips together for the first time. It doesn’t feel like the first time, though - it feels like this is where he’s always meant to be. Jace kisses him back, leaning into the motion easily.

“Only I can nervous-ramble that much,” Simon informs him matter-of-factly after they pull away.

Jace laughs, and it sounds like the sweetest music. It sounds like hope and happiness; like everything Simon worked so hard to keep himself from feeling for the better part of the past year.

“You’re welcome as long as you’d like,” Simon reassures him, stepping aside so Jace has more than enough room to come in and make himself at home.

And Jace does. It isn’t long before it feels like their home again, the way Simon hadn’t realized he missed as much as he did.

Simon knows that true second chances are rare - he had enough ‘almost’s pass through his life to recognize this one for what it is. It isn’t going to be the same as before, but it doesn’t need to be: he has a second chance at love, and he plans on taking it.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Vol. 4, Number 11

Blink and 2018 is just about over, at least in terms of music releases, at least if you don’t follow best ofs, mainstream hip hop or holiday music. As we close in on another year of amazing music—but what year isn’t, really?— Dusted takes a moment to dig through the piles and write some short, mostly positive reviews of albums that might have gotten slept on. As usual, writers follow their interests through expansive drone, transcendental folk, incendiary free-jazz, metal, punk and gospel-tinged Americana. Contributors this time included Ethan Covey, Justin Cober-Lake, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer and Jonathan Shaw.

Bitchin Bajas — Rebajas (Drag City)

Bitchin Bajas are a band made for deep exploration. Their hallucinatory, drone-based excursions are like an old couch — sink in, stretch out and stay a while. Rebajas, released this fall by Drag City, makes that task simple. The seven CD set features most everything the band has released since their debut in 2010: eight full albums and their contribution to various split albums. If you’re dipped into Bitchin Bajas previously, you’ll know what you’re getting. (And if you haven’t there’s little chance this package, or this review of it, is where you’d start.) That said, for those with a long drive, or a monk-like attention span, settling in and tracking the territory of the band’s evolution is rewarding. While the themes — of drone, calm, repeating bass and synth figures — remain constant, the band isn’t a one trick (or one note?) pony. Deep listening uncovers the variety between shorter, bloop-and-hum pieces from Tones/Zones (Disc 1) and the meditative, cycling layers of “2303” from last year’s Bajas Fresh (Disc 7). And there are moments that peek up from the soup: “Bajas Ragas” adds hand percussion and a loping bass line for one of their most engaging concoctions—fit for a slow-motion dance floor in a submerged city of the future. Missing, unfortunately, is their 2016 collaborative album with Bonnie “Prince” Billy, the excellently-titled Epic Jammers And Fortunate Little Ditties. As is this intriguing gem of Rolling Stones covers. Yet, with just shy of seven hours of music, I doubt many will sweat their absence. There’s more than enough to disappear into. And, if this review hasn’t spelled it simply enough, this is quite possibly the trippiest music out there. So, set your intentions and bon voyage.  

Ethan Covey

 Nathan Bowles—Plainly Mistaken (Paradise of Bachelors)

Plainly Mistaken by Nathan Bowles

Nathan Bowles, banjoist, percussionist and citizen of New Weird America, departs from his plain-spoken directness in this fourth album and makes a welcome detour into open-ended psychedelia. Right from the dreamy, drifty “Now If You Remember,” you sense a soft-focus open-ness to otherworldly experience. The cut, written by the seven-year-old Jessica Constable and included on Julie Tippett’s 1976 Sunset Glow, shifts and shimmers in ways that Bowles percussive banjo ditties have rarely done. Yet the album’s transcendental heart comes in “The Road Reversed,” where a pounding, dancing rhythm kicks among long, velvety bowed tones, and banjo notes bend into raga-like half-tones. Folk Americana frolics amid deep-toned Eastern meditation, and where one begins and the other ends is hard to say and, also, beside the point. There are, for sure, some traditional touchpoints—“Elk River Blues” (a tune by Ernie Carpenter that Bowles revisits here), “Fresh and Fairly So” and “Stump Sprout” will all satisfy fans of the twang and the twitch. Yet what lingers, for me, are the ones that stray from past experience, the slow, solo ambiguities of “Umbra,” the shadowy flurries and shifting dissonances of “Girih Tiles.” What Bowles’ well-turned work has lacked till now is mystery, and here it is at last.

Jennifer Kelly

 Mike Farris — Silver & Stone (Compass)

Mike Farris's long, strange career flamed briefly with the alt-rockers Screamin' Cheetah Wheelies in the 1990s. After that, Farris rejected his rock 'n' roll lifestyle and grungy sound in a move toward gospel and soul. The surprise of the transition wasn't the partier-to-Christian story but the discovery of how strong Farris's vocals are. On Silver & Stone, he has less of a gospel focus, but down in some swampy soul music (with bits of brighter pop), he shows off that voice. He's willing to take on Bill Withers (“Hope She'll Be Happier”) and Sam Cooke (“I'll Coming Running Back to You”) — not tasks usually recommended — and he comes out of it just fine.

The album fits a sort of arc for his solo career. It lacks the new-convert punch and joy of Salvation in Lights, but it shifts into more thoughtful reflection. Where he had been celebrating, now he's considering how to live. The explicit religion has mostly disappeared, but Farris's songs still run on hope and a big heart. The sorts of ideas at work on Silver & Stone synthesize on “When Mavis Sings,” a tribute to Mavis Staples and serves as a sort of musical and personal model. Farris, whether in rock or soul, the church or the club, presents a focused vision with enough groove to carry it through.

Justin Cober-Lake

 Tim Feeney — Burrow (Marginal Frequency)

MFCS K | Tim Feeney - Burrow by Marginal Frequency

Burrow can be read as both an explanation and an instruction. Percussionist Tim Feeney begins each of this tape’s four pieces (two per side, and if you purchase a download you’ll get a file of each side, not each piece) in similar fashion, beating out a pattern with minimal variation. As the performance progresses monotony gives way to fascination as Feeney slowly reveals a beat’s potential variations. At a certain point things change. Are you hearing more because he threw something on the drum skin, or because your concentration is unlocking that drum-strike’s secrets, or maybe both? Treat this tape like a meditation guide, one that helps you to dig into the sound and see what treasures you find.

Bill Meyer 

 Forever House — Eaves (Infrequent Seams)

Eaves by Forever House

Forever House makes wildly complicated songs whose improvisatory flights and furies are held together, barely, by Meaghan Burke’s keening, swooping melodies. A lurid aura hangs over these difficult, jarring compositions, witchy incantations invoking freaks, body doubles and spiders. Burke’s voice is velvety dark, draping over odd-shaped rhythms, jutting stabs of violent sound. The drumming is particularly good in an off-putting, against-expectations manner; along with throbs of cello and throes of feedbacked dissonance, it constructs a weird fun house architecture where everything tips and distorts and unsettles.

Forever House’s oddities work because they’re powered by formidable skills – this is a band with a serious NY downtown pedigree. Burke, a cellist and composer, commutes between classical orchestra work and solo material that skitters along the boundary between archaic pop and free-wheeling art song. Both guitarist James Moore and bassist James Illgenfritz have played with John Zorn, as well as other downtown luminaries (in Illgenfritz’s case Anthony Braxton, John Zorn, Elliott Sharp and Pauline Oliveros and others, in Moore’s with the electric guitar quartet Dither). Drummer Pete Wise has left less of an internet trail but seems to have Bang on a Can connections. You get the sense that Forever House is their spooky busman’s holiday, a chance to play against type and raise some unruly ghosts. Boo!

Jennifer Kelly  

 German Army — Kowloon Walled City = (Null Zone)

Kowloon Walled City by German Army

German Army is neither an established military entity nor some reenactment clique, but a low-flying, California-based combo that (according to their Facebook page) “uses art to document disappearing cultures and wildlife while critiquing imperialism in all forms.” Kowloon Walled City certainly qualifies as a disappearing culture, since most of the semi-autonomous, mob-run neighborhood that sat at the edge of Hong Kong’s airport has been cleaned up or knocked down. Since there’s nothing particularly Chinese-sounding about this tape’s perky synth/drum jams and the rare spoken vocals are in distinctly American-accented English, the proclaimed mission may be a failure or just a red herring. But if you need some catchy tunes limned with coded mystery to jam in your old jalopy (if you have tried to get a car stereo with a tape deck in the last ten years, you know what I’m talking about), German Army is at your service.

Bill Meyer

  Gong Gong Gong—Siren (Wharf Cat)

Siren 追逐劇 by Gong Gong Gong 工工工

Two songs from the duo of Joshua Frank and Tom Ng make a case for an intriguing Beijing punk-noise underground. The a-side, “Siren” abstracts the electric blues into a single clattering guitar riff, a zooming, looming roar of bass and a searing call (no response) vocal from Ng, in sing-song-y Chinese. “Something’s Happening” is meatier and more conventionally rock, still built on sharp, stinging guitar clamor, but buzzing with Hendrix-y solo-ry (if Hendrix played the bass). Both tracks employ the minimum number of parts to maximal impact, the construction loose enough for friction, sparks and gnashing aggression.

Jennifer Kelly

 Gerrit Hatcher / Peter Maunu / Julian Kirschner — The Raven and the Dove (JAKI)

The Raven and the Dove by Hatcher/Maunu/Kirshner

Chicago’s built on drained swampland, so when the next wave of free jazz rolls up, it can travel. Certainly this trio, which comprises two younger musicians and one more who seems to be doing exactly what he wants with his retirement, covers a lot of ground. Gerrit Hatcher is an extroverted tenor saxophonist with a raw tone and a willingness to depart from his default setting of muscular tune-grinding into passages of tentative flutter and delicate counterpoint. Good drummers never lack for work, so it’s saying something that you can find Julian Kirschner on a Chicago stage pretty much every week of the year. He comes from a post-free jazz conception of his instrument that favors color, space and movement over pulse or swing. Joining these youngsters is Peter Maunu, whose past life playing fusion and new age music seems quite irrelevant to the unpredictable stream of savage scraping, subliminal humming, and acidic rocking that issues from his guitar, violin and mandolin. This group is brand new, but it won’t be for long; they’ve been touring around the Midwest this fall, so you can expect them to add seasoned rapport to band new promises before long. Catch them if you can, and catch this promising debut if you can’t.

Bill Meyer

 Kidd Jordan / Alvin Fielder / Joel Futterman / Steve Swell — Masters of Improvisation (Valid Records)

Masters of Improvisation by Kidd Jordan, Alvin Fielder, Joel Futterman & Steve Swell

It takes a particular orneriness to be a musician in a musical city and stake your claim to a style that the city has never embraced. You can say a lot of things about New Orleans, but it’s never really been a free jazz town. But that hasn’t stopped tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan, who has made his crust playing and teaching every style that a jobbing musician must play, from playing a particularly uncompromising variety of free jazz. Two of his accompanists here are long-time partners. Drummer Alvin Fielder, who like Jordan is in his 80s, has likewise carried the free jazz torch in southern environs where the muggy air of indifference would douse a fainter spirit. Pianist Joel Futterman is a decade younger and his darting technique and forays inside the piano imply that his roots are sunk in different turf than his mates, but he’s been playing with them long enough to be able to bring empathy as well as energy to the table. New York-based trombonist Steve Swell is the newcomer, and his ability to shift effortlessly between sere exhalations and brash attacks allows him to complicate the combo’s late-Coltrane vibe without betraying it, and then be equally persuasive when they turn around and wring the last blue drops out of Doc Pomus’ “Lonely Avenue.” This concert recording lingers long on the stormy side; go on, stick your face into the wind, you won’t be sorry.

Bill Meyer

 No Love — Choke on It (Sorry State)

Choke On It by No Love

No Love, from Raleigh, NC, play punk rock that conjures the ragged toughness of the mid-1970s NYC downtown scene and the pace of early-1980s Southern Cali hardcore. It’s a potent mix, and when guitarists Seth Beard and Daniel Lupton make a bit of space for vocalist Elizabeth Lynch, the record really kills it. The record’s title track and “Dogs//Wolves” — released back in 2015 as the A-side of a terrific single — are frantic punk burners that scrap and sizzle, teetering on the brink of perilous chaos. The band manages to channel the energy without disciplining it, like the Heartbreakers in those magical months in 1975. “Back Taxes & Anaphylaxis” is even better, mostly because Lynch takes an aggressive lead on the song, showing what she can do. On “Drama Fever,” she manages to keep pace with the guitars’ slashing intensity, but on some of the other tracks, she’s drowned out by all the frenzied riffage. The raw sound of the record gives it a low-grade charm, but the noise sometimes obscures the tunes, which are pretty great. Still, the band’s vigor and verve are undeniable. More, please.  

Jonathan Shaw

 One Tail, One Head — Worlds Open, Worlds Collide (Terratur Possessions) 

Worlds Open, Worlds Collide by One Tail, One Head

Norway’s One Tail, One Head have been playing black metal since 2006, but this year’s Worlds Open, Worlds Collide is the first full-length record the band has ever released. They’ve made a career on their reputation as a live act, pairing their orthodox blackened sound and songs with a stage show only slightly less theatrical than Watain’s (that’s all stage blood, right guys?). It seems that this first LP will be their last, as One Tail, One Head have announced their intent to call it quits after a tour supporting the record. That sense of finality may have prompted the band to round the stylistic bases, pairing truculent, muscular songs reminiscent of the early demos (“Firebirds” is a good example) with more chaotic, swirling work typical of the recent EPs. Songs in the former mode are more successful here, especially the record’s title track, which thunders and crackles with convincing menace. But One Tail, One Head could have given themselves a better sendoff. Few of these tunes feel fully realized, and none is near the equal of the band’s intense performing presence. It’s too bad — but a wise (or wise-ass) kid from Chicago once observed that “breaking up is an idea that has occurred to far too few groups, sometimes the wrong ones.” Via con Satàn, fellas.  

Jonathan Shaw

 Vanessa Peters — Foxhole Prayers (Idol)

Foxhole Prayers by Vanessa Peters

Singer-songwriter Vanessa Peters could have settled for the smart folk-rock she’s been doing for almost two decades, but on Foxhole Prayers she stretches herself, looking at the cultural landscape without relinquishing her personal lyrics. “Carnival Barker” offers her most direct political track, but “Trolls” is more effective, capturing the patience and perseverance needed to defeat the title characters. The song has personal and political resonances, and it's that dual thinking that drives much of the album. “Fight” takes on extra meaning in the context of the album. Peters unveils her own fears and her own need to press on, but with enough space in the lyrics that she could be speaking to herself, a young artist, or someone afraid of venturing into the public eye in any sense; calls to bravery aren't limited to those on stage and Peters situates her song as someone who knows that.  

As her view expands, so does her music, particularly as she incorporates electronic elements into her sound. The dance-pop influences of “Before it Falls Apart” surprise, but Peters' tasteful use of the new sounds allows everything to fit in naturally with what she does. The album, inspired in part by comparing the world of The Greaty Gatsby with today's political climate, has its roots in crisis, hence the title track, and Peters uses her art to search for something better. 

Justin Cober-Lake

 Shells—Shells 2 (Gingko)

Shells 2 by Shells

The evidence suggests that Shelley Salant is not a loner. She’s been booking shows in Southeast Michigan for a decade. She’s the sort of record store clerk who greets you with a recommendation that you’d best consider. She’s played guitar in Tyvek and Swimsuit. She’s the sort of person who makes communities happen by doing what she does.

But she also has pretty strong instincts about what makes a guitar worth hearing — liquid tone, phrases that are concise unless they need to wander, pithy hooks, gritty noise and reverb for days. She’s got some things to say on her own, and that’s where Shells comes in. Shells 2 contains 14 tracks, each a brief and lucid lesson about one or more of the aforementioned virtues. Some of them comprise layers of loops, some follow a single snaking line, and a couple have been overdubbed into an approximation of a band. Similarity spotters may point out the bits that sound like Link Wray or Roy Montgomery or the Feelies, but that would require looking past all the bits that sound like Shelley Salant rocking essentially.

Bill Meyer

 Various Artists — Chebran Volume 2: French Boogie 1979-1982 (Born Bad)

This superlative collection of funk, disco and proto-rap documents the cross-hybridization of bootleg tapes of Grandmaster Flash, Eurovision-style dance music and sounds from the African and Arabic colonies that bubbled up in working class neighborhoods at the dawn of the 1980s all over France. Here on cuts like Ethnie’s “De Chagrin En Chagrin” synths take up the serpentine non-western melodies, while Bootsy-style funksters slap and pop out the boogie. Likewise, the ponderous stomp of bass and percussion anchors Ganawa’s “Yamna” in present day disco, but its wheeling woodwinds and haunting call and response transport you to sand swept deserts in North Africa. Ettika, both the track name and the artist name for a one-hitter from the early 1980s, nudges a disco synth into twisty arabesques and flits from French to Arabic in its emphatic, female-powered raps. Forget the melting pot, these cuts bubble like sour dough starter, when errant spores of yeast find a home in a dull white flour soup and create something marvelous.

Jennifer Kelly

 Otomo Yoshihide / Paal Nilssen-Love — 19th of May 2016 (PNL)

19th of May 2016 by Otomo Yoshihide & Paal Nilssen-Love

Conventional wisdom holds that when Paal Nilssen-Love gets on stage with an electric guitarist, fillings will loosen. That certainly holds true when he pairs up with Terrie Ex, his preferred six-string slinger of recent years, and there are parts of this encounter with Japanese guitarist Otomo Yoshihide that could be cited as supporting evidence. Otomo brings plenty of volume, distortion and ferocity; there are passages where it sounds like he’s demolishing some metallic structure while Nilssen-Love erects an impregnable surrounding whirlwind. But neither man stays in one gear, and some of the most involving moments come when they drop to a scrape and a shimmer.

Bill Meyer

[g-on-ef]

Precious Treasure

Summary: No one should mess with Jonathan Kent, unless they wanna die

for @desolationofzara 

A/N: Alright you guys so I decided to write a dark Damijon series and this is part one of the series. You guys are more than welcome to send me any prompts if you have any ideas. Now please, please, please read this note.

These are dark fic series which would include a lot of graphic material, this particular story contains a fucked up relationship between Jon and Damian. So please if you don’t like it don’t read it !!! Also I want to add that there is torture as well as mention of killing okay now that we got that out of the way I hope you guys enjoy it ^^ 

Jonathan “Jon” Kent stared out the window, watching as the world went by on such a perfect sunny day.

He didn’t have to be outside-or have the window open-to know that the weather was perfect; not to hot or too cold but a beautiful breezy day, a rather rare day for Gotham.

He wanted to go outside and enjoy the day, a beautiful day such as this should not go to waste. And yet, he chose to remain indoors; he knew that if he so much as stepped outside he would be punished. Or worse, his father might suffer some type of punishment and he would have to watch as his father suffered because of him.

Taking a deep breath Jon stood up from his seat and headed to his office. Maybe if he asks nicely he might let him go and enjoy some fresh air maybe if he even offer a blowjob or two he might even let the half-kryptonian go by himself.

Arriving at his door Jon stared at the wooden barrier that stood between him and Gotham’s ruler. He prayed and hoped that he was in a good mood and no one did anything to turn it sour, if he was he might be easier to persuade to let him leave, if not Jon may or may not have to offer himself, so he can take his anger and frustrations out on him and not on innocent people i.e. his prisoners.

Raising his hand, he was just about to knock on the door when he heard a small coughing sound. Turning around he spotted the family butler-Jon secretly wondered if the man was immortal since he has been around the Family since the previous master was a child and he continues to look the same age with each passing year.

“Young sir, the Master wanted me to inform you that he wants you to spend the day outside and enjoy it,”

Jon stared at The Butler, he…he wanted him to go and enjoy the day? He wanted him out of the house? That was a first, not once did he allow Jon to leave the mansion unless he had permission or one of his older brothers was with him.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about this, and to be honest he did not want to take the bait and go spend the day outside of the mansion, even if it was a perfect day, after all if he was sending Jon away without protection then he had to have an alternative motive and if Jon had to guess it involved killing.

“Why?” he asked, he couldn’t help but be on guard, this was new to Jon and he didn’t want to leave unless he had a reason for not wanting Jon in the mansion and if Jon had to guess it was because he was planning to do something horrible to someone he loved and cared for.

Jon wasn’t too sure if he even wanted to around to see another loved one suffer.

He knew he should try and stop him or at least fight against him but…he already knew the consequences after all the last time Jon tried to against him he took Jon’s powers by using gold kryptonite and he wasn’t sure if he wanted his aunt Kara or his father to suffer the same fate as him.

“The Masters have some of the previous heroes who foolishly thought they could send in a spy to find their weaknesses, sadly, the heroes did not realize that the Masters have their own spy with them, the young Master informed me that he did not want you around while he and the others are having their fun,”

Jon stared at the butler as he continued to talk so casually as if he was talking about the weather and not the fact that he was going to be torturing one of his friends or his father’s friends.

“Umm…excuse me,”

“Yes,”

“Can’t I just stay here? I mean normally he doesn’t want me to step foot out of the mansion and-“

“Forgive the interruption young sir, but the Master told me that he doesn’t want you around here because he does not want a distraction; he did inform me to tell you that if you do want to stay then you are more than welcome to join him and-“

“On second thought, it is such a beautiful day so why don’t I go out and enjoy it,”

There was no way he was sticking around to see another person he once knew get torture, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it, nor was he so sure if he could handle the look of betrayal from another person who he once considered an ally.

Jon was about to head out before a hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from taking another step.

“While the young Master is giving you some freedom he did advise me that you wear the collar,”

“The-the collar?”

“Yes, the collar, he needs to know where you are and needs to make sure that no one is touching what is his,”

Jon doesn’t even bother to correct him, what’s the point? If he corrected him the older man would remind him of everything he did for his master, how he chose him over his own father.

Taking a deep breath he turned around and saw the older male already holding the collar.

He was not even going to question where he got it from, knowing him he was probably already carrying it when he came to speak with Jon.

Grabbing the collar he took in the appearance of it, just like always did before he put it on. A deep crimson color with a small yellow R dangling in the center of it, he hated the collar because it had a small tracking device as well as heat sensors, allowing the owner to know if anyone touched what is his as well let him know where the younger of the two is.

Taking a deep breath he put the collar on before the older of the two pushed a small button on a remote control.

A small beeping sound came from the collar before Jon was dismissed.

“Oh, and Master Jon?”

“Yes, Alfred?”

“Do keep in mind that if anyone lays a hand on you, there will be consequences,”

“Yes, Alfred,”

“I am only saying that because Oliver Queen’s son is in town, and I don’t think you need a reminder of what happened the last time the two of you came in contact do you?”

“No Alfred, I don’t,”

“Good, enjoy your day sir,”

“Thank you,”

Jon couldn’t walk fast to get away from both the butler and the mansion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Going into the city was the worse idea he ever had. Everywhere he went people tried not to bump into to him, or stare at him, or say anything; basically, everyone was trying to do whatever they could to avoid him.

If he were honest with himself, he didn’t blame them. If he were them he would do anything and everything to avoid him as well.

Taking a deep breath, he sat down at the park bench and watch the small children play, two small children caught his attention, a boy with black hair and green eyes and another boy with black hair and blue eyes.

Jon watch with fondness as the two small children ran around and played with one another, he couldn’t help but reminisce on a time when he was still innocent, where the world was simple and he didn’t have to many things to worry about.

“So, the rumors are true,”

Jon flinched as he heard a familiar voice from behind him, he did not want to turn around and see him, he did not want to come face to face with the boy that was hurt because of him.

“Jon,”

Jon shut his eyes and prayed to God, anyone who was willing to listen to him that he would just disappeared.

“Jon, I know you can hear me,”

“Connor, please, if you value your life please just go away,”

“And if you’re still the same person I know you are, you would turn around and look at me,”

Jon continued to ignore him hoping that he would take the hint and go away.

“I’m not leaving until we talk,”

“Connor, the last time you and I talk things did not ended well for you, so please just go away,”

He looked up and saw a few mothers staring at them, no doubt trying to decide if they should contact their rulers or if they should walk away and ignore what they are witnessing. He hoped they would ignore him and go about their day.

“Jon, if you and I don’t talk then I will go to your mother and tell her that you are living a happy life and enjoying yourself while your little boyfriend is torturing innocent heroes. And you and I both know she will believe me, it’ll kill her, but she’ll believe it considering how easily you went with him when he told you to choose a side,”

Jon closed his eyes and tried hard not to cry, because no matter how hard he tried to ignore that Connor was right. It hurt like hell, but it was still the truth. When it was discover what Gotham’s once promising heroes were really up everyone began to choose sides, some agreed with their ideology while others thought that the things they were going to do was wrong and they were seen as villains and not the heroes they once were.

When Jon was asked to choose a side they all thought he would choose his father’s side, after all son of Superman, boy of steel they all knew he would choose the right side unlike his brother who chose their side over Superman’s.

It was a huge surprise when Jon chose a side but not his father’s side, no Jon chose his side and the look of disbelief and betrayal from both his parents is something he would never forget.

Which is why he knows Connor was right, he could tell his mother every lie about him and she would believe him, why? Because he chose to be with his lover and not his father in every hero’s eyes that was the ultimate betrayal.

Not wanting his mother to suffer any more than she probably already is he decided to face Connor.

Taking a deep breath Jon slowly turned around to stare at the boy who once confessed his love to him and paid a horrible price because of it.

Connor Queen was the son of Dihana Drake and Oliver Queen, he looked every bit of his father with small details from his mother, like her canary cry for one.

Jon tried hard not to stare at the miss limb instead he tried to pay attention to other details but it was hard to since he also had a missing eye and a few scars on his cheek.

Jon could feel his heart dropping as he took in Connor’s appearance, it took everything inside him not to reach him and make sure that he was okay but if he touched him the collar would go off and signal him and if he was being honest with himself he did not want Connor to suffer any more than he already did.

“Jon,” he couldn’t help but smile a little, despite everything he would forever be grateful that the half-Kryptonian was okay and was not suffering at the hands of him.

As if reading his mind Jon said,

“You and I both know he would never hurt me,”

“Tch, you mean physically right?”

“No I mean-“

“Mean what Jon? He may not hurt you with his fists but you and I both know he’s found other ways to hurt you,”

Jon tried not to punch Connor in the face, reminding him of the things that has been done to him was something that Jon did not like. Sure there were times when Jon wished that things were different but Jon knew that he loved Jon, that even after all the crazy shit they’ve been through he still loved Jon and would always take care of Jon after seeing his beloved shed a tear or two. However, he knew better than to voice his opinion since Connor would just tell Jon he was being an idiot and didn’t know what he was saying.

Connor stare at the beautiful boy before him, he knew his words must have caused some sort of pain to him since he was being quiet and not saying a word. Which is why he needed to do this, he needed to get Jon far away from these people before he lost what was left of his sanity.

“Jon,”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry,”

“What?” before he could react Connor pulled out a small gun and shot Jon, the half-Kryptonian felt himself getting drowsy he stared at Connor in disbelief as he fell on the ground staring up he saw Connor walking up to him before he drifted off into a sea of unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When he came to he found himself in an abandon building and Connor standing right in front of him, he saw that Connor was wearing his metal arm, the one that Lex Luthor probably gave him.

“Wh-what the-“

“I’m sorry Jon, but the only way to save you from him is to get you far away from Gotham,”

“What?!” he looked around and realized that he wasn’t in an abandon building but in Connor’s…room! He tried getting up but couldn’t, looking down he saw he was tied in a chair.

“I will admit the one good thing about this whole mess is…that you aren’t as strong as you use to be which means you can’t escape,”

“Are you insane Connor? When he finds out where I am he’ll-“

“He won’t find out Jon,”

“What?”

Connor walks over to his desk and picks up an item before throwing it at Jon, looking down Jon saw that it was the collar that he wore when he was allowed to leave the manor.

“Connor what did you do?”

“I was able to save you Jon, granted I had to do it in the most horrible ways but I still had to do it,”

Looking at Jon Connor was silently begging him to understand why he did what he did, why he had to save him from the Demon head.

“Jon-“

“Are you insane Connor?! Do you have any idea what would happen to you if he finds out? He’ll go crazy and-“

“That’s the thing Jon, without you he’ll be beside himself, hell he’ll be so focus on finding you that he won’t even have time to think of other things like the rest of the team ambushing him,”

“What?”

“I know he’s gonna try and find you, just like I know that he’ll come here and when he does my team will be ready to attack him,”

“Connor, you don’t understand, it’s not just him you have to worry about, it’s also the Red Hood, and, and, Nightwing, Red Robin and Super Boy! Connor my brother Kon joined them because he agreed with everything they were saying and once they find out that I’ve been kidnapped they are going to bring hell on this city!”

Connor stared at Jon before smirking.

“Then I guess we are going to have a big problem on our hands,”

“Connor please, just let me go if you do maybe I can convince them to not hurt you and, and”

Before Jon could continue he felt a pair of lips crashing against his own.

Connor pulled back a little before a small smile spread across his face before he felt Jon headbutting him.

Connor backed up a little before he held onto his nose checking for blood.

“What the hell Jon?”

“That’s what I should be saying?! What the hell were you thinking!”

“Jon-“

“The last time you did something like that you lost an arm Connor! AN ARM! If he saw, you do something like that who knows what would happen to you!”

“Jon! I don’t care okay? I don’t care what happens to me, all I care about,” reaching out Connor gently cupped his cheek.

“Is you Jon, all I care about is knowing you’re okay,”

“Connor please,” Jon could feel his eyes watering at Connor’s confession, this was not something Jon needed to hear right now.

“When you chose him over us, me, it killed me okay? But, now that you are here with me, Jon I am not letting you go okay? I refuse to let you go,”

“Connor, this isn’t something I need right now okay? I need to go back to Gotham, back to-“

“Back to him? Why Jon, why do you need to go back to that, that monster?”

“Because I love him Connor, yeah he’s done horrible things, and he’s a killer and the leader of the League of Assassins but I still love him,”

“He’s also taken your powers, kept you locked up and refused to release you! He’s kept you his prisoner and, and-“

“Connor please, yes he’s done horrible things, but I still love him,”

“I love you Jon, doesn’t that mean something,”

“No, I’m sorry Connor, it doesn’t. Maybe I’m sick or maybe I just love the pain, but no matter what happens, or what anyone says,”

Jon looked Connor in the eyes as he knew his next words were going to break Connor.

“It’ll always be him,”

The room was silent for a couple of minutes before Connor stood up and walked over to Jon. He then bend down and untied him.

Jon stood up and looked at Connor.

“Connor?”

Without thinking Connor punched Jon square in the face, causing the chair to fall.

“You WHORE!” Connor walked over to the boy and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him to the wall.

“You filthy, disgusting whore! I try to save you from him and all you do is tell me you would chose him! Despite all the shit he’s done to you! My mother! Our friends!”

“Connor-“

Connor slammed him on the bed and pin his arms above him.

“Connor, what are you doing?”

“It seems that you only love people who treat you like shit, so let’s see how much you’ll love me after I’m done with you,”

“Connor!”

Jon felt Connor’s hand moving south while his other hand held onto his arms.

Before Connor could do anything else the blond felt a sharp object being pressed against his back.

“If you know what’s good for you, you would get off him. Now,”

Connor slowly got off of Jon and stood up and moved as far away from the bed as he possibly could.

“Good boy,”

Jon’s heartrate slowed down as he heard the voice of his Dark Knight.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the cold hard green emerald eyes that belong to Gotham’s ruler, Damian Wayne.

“Beloved,” Damian whispered softly Jon couldn’t help but choke on a sob as he got off the bed and ran to Damian’s arms.

Over the years Damian has grown taller than Jon, which for right now was perfect as Damian held onto the boy who was once as strong as Superman.

“Are you alright,”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Jon whispered softly as he held on to Damian.

Damian’s gaze was soft as he held onto Jon. When his collar was destroyed Damian was beside himself, he and his brothers along with Kon search all of Star City since Alfred informed them that Connor Queen was seen in the neighborhood not to mention the gossip mothers who informed him what happened while Jon was at the park.

As soon as he found out what happened Damian, Dick, Jason, Tim, Connor, and the rest of his siblings went to Star City while his siblings where having their fun destroying Star City Damian took the liberty of torturing his father since he already killed his mother.

Damian lifted Jon’s face to look at him make sure that he wasn’t hurt, sadly he saw a bruise starting to form on his beloved’s porcelain cheek.

“Jonathan,”

Jon’s eyes widen in fear, Damian only used his full name when he was going to kill someone that harmed Jon.

“Ye-yes?”

Damian stroke Jon’s cheek the one where Connor struck him.

Jon could see Damian getting angry as he continued to stare at the bruise that was starting to form.

“Damian, I swear to you, it wasn’t him, I, I fell. I fell and…and,”

“You know better than to lie to me beloved,”

“Damian please, let’s just go home, please leave him alone,”

Damian stared at Connor who was just a few minutes ago was going to hurt his most precious treasure in the worst possible ways. There was no way Damian was going to let him live after this, but first he had to pay for what he did.

“Very well Jon I would not lay a single hand on him so long as he stays here,”

Jon felt like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders as his grip on Damian tighten, and he whispered a silent thank you.

Connor continued to stare at the pair feeling his heart breaking, not because of what he was going to do but because Jon chose Damian over him, their friends, again. Did he have no shame? How could he be okay to be with that murder? How can he claim to love him after everything he’s done?

He needed to know, needed to ask; despite Damian being there he needed to ask him.

“Jon-“

A loud banging sound was heard as Connor fell to the ground screaming in agony.

Jon pulled away from Damian to see Connor clutching onto his knee as it bleed out.

“Connor!” he tried to pull away but Damian’s grip was strong on him as he struggled with the Dark Knight.

“Todd,”

Jason Todd slipped into the window as he landed next to Damian.

Jon looked to him and saw his gun, he should have known that Jason was nearby, no doubt he was the one who fired and hit Connor.

“Demon Brat,”

Jon stared back and forth between them before Damian order him to grab Connor since they were all heading back to Gotham.

“Damian, you said you wouldn’t hurt him,” Jon said looking at Damian’s masked face hoping that his Demon Prince would just leave him be. Connor already suffered enough he didn’t need any more pain added to his life.

“I said I would not lay a single hand on him so long as he stays here, which is why Red Hood over there is going to bring him back to Gotham where I have every right to bring as much harm to him as I can,”

Jon closed his eyes as tears fell from them, he should have known better than to believe that Damian would let Connor live.

It was foolish of him to even think that Connor was going to live to see another day when he did the one thing Damian would never let anyone get away with.

He touched Damian’s most price possession, he took him from his cage and harmed him, there was no way in hell he was going to live to see another day after what he did.

Jon didn’t even bother wasting his breath and begging Damian to let him have any mercy nor did he try to stop Damian.

The last time he did that his father was the one who paid the price and that is something that Jon is still not over with.

He felt Damian lifting him up bridal style and took him to the window, opening his eyes he saw the bat jet, and Kon floating in the air Dick Grayson was in the driver seat while Tim Drake was in the passenger seat. Damian must’ve called them when he found where Jon was. The Demon Prince stepped in while Jason tossed the son of the Green Arrow to Kon signaling him to send the brat to Gotham.

Kon nodded his head, before he took off he took one look at Jon just to make sure he was alright, Jon was thankful that his bruised cheek was being pressed against Damian’s chest, if Kon saw it he would probably kill Connor half way to Gotham.

Kon gave Jon a tiny smile, silently telling him he was glad he was okay before he took off. Jon tried to smile back but he knew once they were back in Gotham either Tim or Damian would inform Kon of what happened while Jon was away. He watched as his older brother took off and left him alone with the Wayne brothers.

Damian ordered Nightwing to take them home as he stroke Jon’s cheek.

“I was worried about you,” he whispered softly as he stared into Jon’s baby blue eyes.

“Damian, I’m fine,” Jon grabbed onto Damian’s hand and squeezed it.

Damian didn’t say anything he just lean forward and kissed his forehead.

“When we get home, Alfred would take you to our room, I don’t want you around Connor any more than you already had to be,”

Translation, once we get back to the manor, you will be locked up until I deem it safe for you to step outside again, you will also be locked in our room because I don’t want to hear you plea for an asshole’s life because he doesn’t deserve to live.

Taking a deep breath Jon just snuggled closer to Damian and closed his eyes to get some rest. He had a long day and he just wants it to be over.

Damian stared down at his beloved resting against his chest. When the collar alert him that someone had took it off Damian almost lost it, he had to be calm and rational before he could do something, like destroying all of Gotham and Metropilse just because.

After finding out that Connor Queen was in the city, and the gossip women of Gotham told him they saw him talking to Jon he and his siblings along with Kon took to a Star City and set off to destroy it.

Granted Damian knew where Connor was but before he could go to him he had to take care of something.

Finding Green Arrow was easy for him and once he found him Damian and Oliver Queen fought one another and if Damian was honest he was the easiest hero to defeat, maybe it was because he was mad at him because his son took his beloved, or maybe it was because he just plain hated Queen, but he was able to take him down with ease.

Once he was done with Queen, he went to find Jon. When he did it took everything not to kill Oliver where he was, he was touching Jon in places only Damian could touch, he was going to do the most disgusting thing anyone could do to another human being.

Damian and his family maybe cold-blooded killers but even they hated rapists as much as the next guy, not to mention he put his hands-on Jon, bruised his perfect skin, whatever the reason for it Damian didn’t care, he was going to end Queen in the most brutal ways possible.

Dick, Jason, and Tim where thankful quiet as they all drove home, they knew their younger brother needed time to process what happened and how he was going to kill Connor for what he did.

Once they arrived back to the Manor Damian took Jon to his room and asked Alfred to check on him make sure he didn’t suffer any other injures.

Once he gave Jon a kiss on his forehead he left him to Pennyworth and went down to the dungeon where Queen was being held.

Entering the room, he saw Kon already giving him a beating, Damian may or may not have told Tim what happened who then told Kon who was now beating the crap out of Queen.

“That’s enough Clone,” Damian said, Kon turned to glare at Gotham’s ruler was carrying a plastic bag. Despite all the horrible things he’s done to Jon, Kon still trusted him because at the end of the day he still protected Jon a hell of a lot better than their good for nothing father.

“If you want him to truly pay for what he did I suggest you stop beating him to a pulp, besides death is too good for this asshole he needs to be punish for what he did,”

“Can’t argue with that,” Kon said as he glared at the boy who was struggling to remain conscious.

“You’re right, you can’t now be a good solider and go check on Jon, he’s gonna wanna come down here once he wakes up and I don’t want to hear him plea for this pathetic worm’s life,”

Kon nodded his head as he threw one last punch to Connor’s stomach before he headed to check on his little brother.

Once gone both he and Connor stared at one another. One with an arrogant smirk and the other tried to stare him down but couldn’t do to the fact that one of his eyes was swollen shut and he fought to remain conscious.

“How the mighty have fallen,” Damian said as he walked closer to his captive.

“It must kill you to know that no matter how hard you try to get him back, Jon will always chose me,”

Connor looked into the demon’s eyes before speaking,

“He…he’s only with you be…beca…because he’s afraid,”

“Afraid? What exactly would Jon be afraid of? Me? Well that’s not possible since he is always choosing despite knowing what I’ve done, my family? I don’t think so since he also knows that I wouldn’t let them hurt him even if he chose to leave me willingly which we both know he’ll never do. So please Queen enlighten me and tell me what exactly does my beloved fear?”

Connor tried to glare at him as he opened his mouth and continue to guilt trip him-or in his case try because he had a feeling that everything he said Damian had an answer for everything.

“You…took, you took his powers from him,”

“Of course, I did, you and every superhero where using him for your own selfish gains, not to mention Superman tried to kill my mother. What better way to get back at him then by taking his son’s super powers, besides Jon was trying to free Superman so I had to punish him,”

Connor didn’t know what to say, Damian took Jon’s powers for no good reason at all! Jon didn’t deserve any of that, he deserved to be with someone who loved him, respected him; not someone who would punish him for the smallest things and kept him locked up in a cage.

“You…you…”

“I what? Am sick? Don’t deserve Jon? A cold heartless asshole who should rot in hell?” You really need to come up with better and more creative things if you want to hurt me,”

Connor continue to glare at the assassin, he wanted to stab him, kill him, bring him as much pain as he did to all his friend and allies.

“Well, seeing as you have nothing to say or do I have to get back to my beloved and make sure he is okay,”

Damian turned to leave but stopped in his tracks.

“Oh, before I forget,” he walked to Connor and dropped the plastic bag he then opened it and grabbed what was inside it. Once he pulled it out Connor felt like vomiting as he stare at the sever head of his father.

Damian dropped on the ground and looked at Connor with a satisfying smirk.

“thought you might enjoy some company since you are going to be here for a long, long time,”

Damian stood up and headed to the stair well. As he was half way to the door he heard Connor screaming, Damian couldn’t help but chuckle, he’ll be begging for death by tomorrow morning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Damian entered his room to see that Jon was already awake as he stared into his lap lost in his own thoughts.

“Beloved,” Jon flinched as he looked up to meet Damian’s emerald green eyes.

“Damian,” he whispered as he got out of the bed and ran towards him.

Damian took his beloved into his arms as he kissed the top of his head.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,”

The two pulled back a little before Damian kissed Jon’s lips Jon couldn’t help but kiss him back, Damian then lifted Jon off the ground as Jon wrapped his legs around Damian’s waist.

The two pulled back a little and stared into each other’s eyes. Damian’s hand came to cup Jon’s bruised cheek. He knew that he was not done torturing Connor but for now he would leave him alone with his father’s severed head, he’ll see what other torturous things he can come up with to make him pay for what he did.

“Damian?”

“Yes beloved?”

“About Connor-“

“I don’t want to hear his name right now beloved, if I hear it I’ll go down the cellar and kill him understood?”

Jon bit his lip and nodded his head, Damian gave him a soft smile before he lean forward and kissed his forehead.

“Please beloved, I just need to hold you and make sure you are really here and not some figment of my imagination,”

“Okay,”

“Thank you,”

Damian lead them to his bed where he laid Jon down before he laid down next to him Jon turned to his side and laid his head on Damian’s chest, Damian stroke Jon’s back as he stared down at his beloved.

Yes, their relationship was fucked up one with Damian being a cold ruthless killer who punished Jon when he disobeyed him by taking his powers and forcing him to watch as Damian tortured people, people that Jon once knew and Jon, sweet innocent Jon would do anything Damian asked of him even convincing Kathy to be their spy, then again Jon didn’t need to convince her since she was already on Damian’s side.

Sometimes Damian wonder if she chose his side because of Jon or because of Maya, either way he didn’t care all he care about is that she made sure she gave him information from the inside.

Still, despite their relationship being fucked up Damian still loved Jon and he would do anything for him and kill anyone who tried to take him from Damian.

Jon laid on Damian’s chest as he began to think of what he told Connor and how true his words were. No matter what Damian did, no matter who he hurt-himself included-Jon would always love and pick Damian.

Yes, their relationship was fucked up in many ways but in Jon’s eyes the good out did the bad. Damian would do anything to protect him and he loved and cared for Jon and was always there for him.

“Damian?”

“Yes beloved?”

“I love you,”

Damian smiled, a rare smile that only Jon and a few others got to see.

“I love you too beloved,”

[sammyhale]

J2 Main Panel SeaCon 2017

Boys joke around with Rob and Rich. 

Talking about their kids. Jensen jokes that three is the magic number apparently lol. 

Jared talks about being daddy to a daughter. Jensen points and laughs :P

They wrap on Wednesday the 26th for s12. Some cool stuff coming up, they read the last couple episodes. Jared didn’t expect it to go where it went. “Writers are surprising me still.” 

Fan to Jared: What conditioner do you use? Jensen gets up and acts like he’s paying the fan for asking that lol. 

Jensen: Inquiring minds want to know. Jared laughs: I spent many years just kind of using whatever is available. Jensen mocks him. Jared: I see you on the TV! Jensen: Good!

Jared does bunny ears to Jensen so it appears on screen. Jared: Beanie conditioner. That’s my secret trick. 

Jensen won’t let it go lol. Jensen: Answer her question. Do you use conditioner? Jared: Yeah if it’s there. Jensen: Every time you shampoo? Audience: Ohh! Jared: Ooh, shit just got real! Jensen: Do you shampoo then conditioner? Jared: I’m thinking! Says he used the hotel shampoo and conditioner. Jensen: Ahh there it is!! 

Jared squeezes Jensen’s chest. After touching him: There’s Jensen on me. 

Advice for people that constantly fuck up. Jensen jokes: Stop. Jared: You can’t stop. I mean it, y’all are gonna make a mistake. Jared talked with his psychiatrist about being concerned he’s gonna mess up his kids. The doctor told him he would. Jared: That’s not reassuring! The doctor said the point is you have a mindset that you’ll look at whatever the mistake was and figure out the why and where it came from and forgive yourself.

Jensen: However, don’t just forgive yourself and then continue, learn from your mistakes. Jared nods in agreement. 

Favorite season finale to film? Jared says finale are very hard because they’re exhausting and then it’s the biggest ep of the year. 

Jensen talks about the end of s1 when Baby gets hit with them inside. The three Winchester men and the car in peril. 

At that time they didn’t know they were coming back, so it was weird saying goodbye to the crew and the characters, not knowing. Instead of recent seasons, where they know they are getting ready (thanks for s13). 

Jensen asks Jared hardest finale to film for him. Jared says s8. Jensen: I’m gonna speak for both of us and say we haven’t filmed it yet. That’s gonna be a tough one. 

Jared: Do any of y’all want to visit during the series finale? 

Jared wants to raise money for charity and all watch it together somewhere. 

(At some point): Fan: I’m a really big Jensen fan. Jared: I am, too.

A fan said they had heard that during a scene where Jared died in his arms, when they called cut Jensen continued holding Jared and crying; fan wants to know if that’s true? Jensen admits that it’s true, tries to say he just had something in his eye, though, lol <3 

Jared: We care about Sam and Dean just as much as you guys do. We want to make sure to give them the gravity they deserve. 

Jensen talks about how in your mind you know it’s not real, but your body doesn’t know. Says that Jared brought up an interesting point about how it feels where you go through something traumatic and emotional and how it has an effect on you. It impacts the viewer; it also impacts J2 when they read it in the script. They use that to portray it during the scene. There is real emotion that lives inside of them and it’s not just the character’s emotion. Sometimes it’s hard to turn off. Can’t just tell your body to stop. 

Jared to Jensen: When do you feel like in performing Dean’s lines it took over you the most? Jared says he has an idea which scene, but wants to know what Jensen’s answer is. Jensen says it was when Dean talks to Sam about hell and Jared says yeah, that’s what he was thinking. Jensen had to walk it off. Jared’s was Croatoan, when he couldn’t shut off the tears.

Jared gives an emotional fan some love, reminds her that everyone in the room is her family and has her back.

How do they feel about JDM as Negan on The Walking Dead? They are very proud. Jensen: We both know Jeff very well and he’s a sincerely kind and beautiful man. To play that much of a badass, I was proud because he killed it. He’s that talented. That made his two sons very proud. Jared: Yeah. Similar but slightly different reaction: Man, I am such a better hunter than dad. He’s having trouble with zombies??

The boys perform a scene from The Walking Dead, making fun of how easy it would be to deal with the walkers. Jared plays the zombie. Jensen plays “anyone take your pick” Jensen just walks away while zombie!Jared stumbles around. 

Jared: Very proud of him, love Jeff! 

Jensen talks about a scene where Negan is shooting at people. Jared teases him about spoilers. Jensen: Have you seen Titanic? It sinks. Jared: Three hours of my life. Jensen: Wish someone would have told me that. 

Regarding the SPNFamily, they felt it was a family after doing some of the conventions. Jensen says years ago he realized it wasn’t just about the actors or people onstage, that there were people coming together because of a common theme or thing that they all had in common. Their love for this show and characters. 

Jared agrees. Says it’s his favorite part about coming to cons. You’re here hanging out with your friend, it’s not just about us. When he sees people that met because of the show or conventions it warms his heart. He thinks about friends he’s made going to Pearl Jams concerts and music festivals. Loves to see those connections.

Even little, sweet moments, like earlier in Jared’s m&g when a mother and daughter were sitting three seats apart and one of the other fans moved just so they could sit together. Jared loves that: we’re all here ‘cause we love each other. 

Jensen talks about fans meeting on the internet, “chatrooms and blog spaces...” The boys didn’t know about Richard Speight’s #DickChat he’s being doing on Creation Entertainments Snapchat all weekend. When the fans yell Dickchat at them, their faces are priceless. Jensen: I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing anymore. Jared: Oh, Richard!

Asked about favorite Disney movies? Jared says Jensen’s is The Little Mermaid. Jensen: Don’t knock Ariel.

Jared: I wrote a paper on this in high school. The Lion King. Says it was more than a guilty pleasure. Jensen is smiling and shaking his head. Jared wanted to be JTT (Jonathan Taylor Thomas). He wrote a paper how on Star Wars, The Lion King and the movie The Natural and the archetypes in all those stories. Jared: And now I get to play a character that gets to play similar archetypes. 

Jared to Jensen: Sing? Or Elsa? Jensen: At this point it is whatever my daughter’s favorite movie is. The good thing is that it changes weekly. Right now it’s Sing. Out of all the songs she only wants to hear the rock song the character Ash sings. Jensen just has to tap his foot and JJ busts out into song.

Jensen: If I have to pick one of the classics, maybe Aladdin. You know why? ‘Cause I can show you the world. Jared facepalms. Jensen: In shining shimmery splendor. Jared: Tell me- Jensen: Princess, now when did you last let your heart decide? BOOM! 

Jared says that if his three-year-old is having a tantrum, he plays the 

Jared my three year old if he’s having a tantrum I’ll play the Pineapple Pen song and it calms him down lol. 

Jensen: Don’t look it up. Save yourself. So disturbing. 

Fan asks if they or Sam and Dean would consider giving up humanity for powers, like angel or demon? Jared: No. Jensen shakes head in agreement. Jared says one of the themes Jared really enjoys is what it’s like to be ultimately powerful or flawed. Loves the humanity on the show and struggling with what it is to be human. Wouldn’t trade imperfection for perfection. 

Jared notices that Jensen is smiling to himself about something. Jared: What are you thinking about because you have a weird look on your face? Jensen was thinking about a reference to Young Frankenstein he made while Jared was answering the question. 

They start whispering and laughing to each other. 

Jensen says he wants to do the Young Frankenstein “Puttin’ on the Ritz” where Dr. Frankenstein and the Creature are singing together (YouTube clip from the movie). Jensen set its up impersonating Frankenstein and Jared finishes impersonating the Creature. Jensen: Yes!! Dear diary, it finally happened 

Jared would bring Ruby back from the dead. Jensen: Dad. 

Asked about favorite dance moves. Jared does one and starts giggling. J2 start dancing on stage togehter!! Cracking up. 

Fan: Best day of my life! 

Jensen: Ahh cramp, cramp! Jared: Pulled a hammy!

Jared did “fancy feat” and Jensen did the Running Man into the Roger Rabbit.

Fan asks J2 about the s1 UK “Scary Just Got Sexy” promo they did. Jared holds up the fan’s iPad to the camera so everyone can watch it onscreen (link to promo). 

J2 start dancing on stage again. 

Jared: That was scary and sexy. Jensen I remember that ad. J2: together: Scary. Just. Got. Sexy.

For that ad they brought the woman in white back and it was shot in Vancouver. Jensen remembers because the budget was small and it wasn’t visual effects of the blood coming down the wall. It was real. When it comes down the wall Jensen didn’t move away quickly enough the first time and they had to clean up his leather jacket. He had to hurry away so it wouldn’t happen again lol. Jared: Thanks for the trip down memory lane. 

Jensen talks about how it’s not difficult for them to include changes in their characters because they have experienced what the characters have gone through from performing them on camera. Makes it easier to add those things into the character. Jensen says that the characters never really change; they grow in wisdom and experiences but their core has always been solid and the foundation of who they are and the show. 

Jared agrees, says they aren’t method actors but, for example, in a couple hours they’re gonna head back to Vancouver so they can be up at 6 the next day and they will spend 12-14 hours filming maybe two minutes of screen time. So during shooting they are living in the moment. They also encourage each other while filming, like saying hey, do that again, etc. Says that most of the writers are new; a good, talented writer will look at Jensen and Jared and write the characters based on the sensibilities J2 bring to them. 

Acting advice: Jared: Just act. Go to a local theater, do it with your buddies, put it on YouTube, do it to perform. You can tell a story, entertain, enlighten; don’t forget why you’re acting. Jensen brings up Steven Spielberg and how he started out with his dad’s 8mm camera just making stories he loved. We can do that with phones. Put stuff out there. Work begets work. 

Jared: Whoever you are, you have a story to tell. Figure that out and tell it. Like with he and Jensen with Sam and Dean Winchester. 

Favorite part about being parents? Jensen: Many things. One that comes to mind immediately, something as simple as taking my asleep three and a half year old and carrying her up the stairs to bed. That does it for me. 

Jensen: Recently they were in Dallas visiting his family. Staying downtown went to the aquarium, and halfway through JJ fell asleep in his arms. It was about a mile back to the hotel. Uphill. Carried her the entire way. She’s like 40 pounds but dead weight and wrapped him. His dad asked if he wanted him to take over. Jensen said, Nope, I got this. Really cool moment. 

Jared says he loves the little things, too. He and Jensen have had some really cool life experiences. Meet all sorts of people, lots of travelling. Jared says in his 34 years he’s been very blessed, and it’s human nature to get jaded and turn it into “well, that’s just life.” However, with his kids, he gets to re-experience things for the first time. Like a butterfly flying. The kids love it and it’s exciting again. Living life over again and re-experiencing how wonderful it really can be. The wonder that his kids have is infectious. He learns from them as much as he hopes they learn from him. 

Jared mentions the weird crazy room and the ball lights. Jensen laughs. Jared grabs Jensen’s shoulder and shakes him a little while laughing.

During the last question, “Kmart” (aka Kreespa) offers to film the girl onstage. Jared asks Kmart if she knows her; she doesn’t. Jared brings back what he was saying about how the fandom has that connection with each other and offers to do things like that and how cool it is. 

Last question: How does it feel to be a part of this the family? Jared: for me it’s humbling. To feel a connection to somebody and how it reminds him to see the best in people and in himself. Small random acts of kindness. It’s a neat blessing.

Jensen: Yeah, humbling is certainly a great word to describe it. Also, accountability. I could be selfish and live my life for me. I know that I can’t do that because I have children. My life just isn’t mine anymore. I get to share it with so many more people. He is fueled by that inspiration. 

Richard tells them about Dickchat. Jensen: I thought we moved on from that. Rob: You never move on. Richard records them for Snapchat. Jared gives a thumbs up in front of the audience and cracks up when Jensen yells “Dickchat!” into Richard’s phone lol. 

Info via: Fangasm, Jess, Kristin, Sil’s livetweet list, StageIt livestream

[neverisalongtime-ja-blog]

Chapter 29: 90’s babe

I know I'm uploading super late today but the internet connection has been so bad the whole day. But here it is: chapter 29!

Thank you so much to everyone who write me here and on Instagram! It makes my heart so happy!

Remember to visit Anastasia’s IG profile:

Anastasia_Truman  ❤️️

Thanks to everyone who reads the fic, much love to you all! ♥

Read chapter 28

Before the show in San Diego, Anastasia discovered a sweet surprise at her dressing room in the Valley View Casino Center. It was filled with red roses, at least five huge bouquets. She was thrilled, although she didn’t like roses. She walked to the flowers and spotted a small card, she read it was actually Peyton who sent them to Mandy. Anastasia couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, she was feeling so happy by the relationship her friend had until she heard a voice behind her that brought her back to earth.

 -          Wow, what’s all this? – Josh asked entering the room.

-          Someone sent flowers – She said trying to ignore him and hiding part of the story.

-          But… roses? You hate roses – He said making Anastasia remember how well he knew her – You only like wild flowers, you always say that roses are basic and…

-          Yes, Josh, I know what I said before – She cut him off – But this is a nice thing.

-          Are you seeing someone? – He went straight forward.

-          Well… you could say so – She said lying and not knowing why.

-          Well, this guy doesn’t know you at all. He didn’t investigate you like I did.

-          What?! Investigate me? – She asked kind of annoyed.

-          Yeah, and one of the first things I learned about you is that you hate roses – Josh said smiling and Anastasia was confused by the direction of this conversation – By the way I didn’t have the chance to ask you, but what did you think about Dot Hacker’s new record?

-          I liked it so much I destroyed my turntable listening to it – She said even more confused by the question.

-          How come?

-          Because of the messages in the songs. I was angry – Maybe this was the moment for them to talk straight.

-          Sorry to hear that – Was all that Josh managed to say – Your turntable was a historic piece.

-          Josh, you wrote songs about feeling bad in our relationship, about how it wasn’t working, but you never talked to me about it! – There she was, giving her attention to the white elephant in the room.

-          I know and I can’t apologize to you enough – Josh said looking to the floor like he always did when he was ashamed. - But of all the people in the world, you know how great it is to put your feelings in a song. I wrote about loving you too.

-          I know and it made everything much more confusing – Anastasia said angry.

-          I’m sorry… - Josh couldn’t finish his sentence because Mandy entered the room screaming.

-          Oh my God! What is this? – She asked looking at the flowers and realizing Josh’s presence

-          It wasn’t me – He said looking at Mandy.

-          It’s obvious – She said taking the card from Anastasia’s hands. Now Josh would know the truth – They are from Peyton! – Mandy said overly excited – Oh my God! That little fucker! I love him so much! – She screamed.

 Anastasia saw Josh smiling wide, almost laughing, and then leaving. She felt so stupid.

 -          Josh thought they were for me – Anastasia told Mandy.

-          Sweetie! Oh God! Sorry! – Mandy said checking the roses – I would have followed the lead.

-          Don’t worry, that would have been childish – Anastasia said laughing.

 After the show that night everyone was ready for a long break. They’d be out for about three weeks. Anastasia was going to be busy for the next few days, her birthday was coming up and she was preparing a big party to turn 28. She followed Mandy’s advice and invited Alex but he respectfully declined saying that he needed to go back to Miami for work. She felt disappointed but totally understood; that’s a doctor’s lifestyle.

 One Friday in Los Angeles, with the party a week away, Nick invited Anastasia to a bar where he, Eric and some friends were going to see a local band play. Mandy joined her as Peyton was extremely busy with the start of the baseball season. It was a nice bar in Pasadena and the band played a soft rock kind of music, they were good and Anastasia realized they could be a great add to her label. The night was being fun and she was chatting with Eric’s friends including Clint and Jonathan. Hannah was there too and suddenly all the happiness went to hell when she saw Josh entering the place holding hands with Lauren; she was wearing the tightest pony tail in history and a pair of black leather pants with a pink crop top and, again, she thought how despair the two looked together. She felt Mandy’s arms around her as they walked away to avoid them.

 -          How can she be so tacky? – Mandy said while ordering two mojitos at the bar.

-          I don’t wanna make this sound like I’m jealous but they aren’t meant for each other! – Anastasia said.

-          I know and you are jealous anyway – Mandy said giving Anastasia her glass.

-          What?! – Anastasia asked.

-          It’s normal – Mandy said – I know you are over it, but it’s normal to have those feelings.

-          I’m not jealous! – Anastasia screamed as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see Josh and Lauren standing there and that made her furious.

-          Hi! – Josh said. How dare he flaunt Lauren in Anastasia’s face?

-          How are you? – Anastasia asked without any emotion.

-          We wanted to say hi! – Lauren said with her annoying voice – Because I’m a huge fan and I think I already told you that and I’m so happy you are friends with Josh – Anastasia could hear Mandy burst into laughter behind her.

-          Oh well… hi! – Anastasia said.

-          Do you want something to drink? – Mandy asked Lauren to be polite.

-          Oh no. I’m on an alcohol-free diet – Lauren asked as Josh turned to talk with one of his friends leaving them in this awkward conversation.

-          Is that the Pre-Euthanasia Diet? – Anastasia asked finding her sarcastic spot - ‘Cuz that would be the only way I’ll be alcohol free. If I was going to die.

-          Be real, not even in that moment would you knock off alcohol – Mandy said to Anastasia laughing.

-          Do you have any idea how many calories alcohol has? – Lauren asked really concerned, demonstrating she didn’t understand sarcasm.

-          Lauren, my friend, you are funny – Anastasia put a hand on Lauren’s right shoulder - and I’m pretty sure you don’t even know what euthanasia is. Live life! Have fun! Drink the alcohol! Practice euthanasia! – She and Mandy laughed hard and Lauren tried to follow them laughing too but not knowing what about.

-          Ok, we’ll see you around, girls – Josh said realizing the situation and taking Lauren far.

-          That was so epic! – A voice said behind Anastasia and she saw Kelly.

-          Your fucking hair! – Anastasia screamed touching Kelly’s hair which was lavender now.

-          Welcome to the cool hair color club! – Mandy said hugging Kelly.

-          I need one of those mojitos because I’m not on the Pre-Euthanasia Diet – The three friends burst into a hard and loud laugh.

 The party was almost set and Anastasia’s birthday – April 1st – was a Saturday which made everything more perfect. The theme of the night was the 90’s and everyone should dress according to that decade. Mark prepared a bunch of amazing 90’s mixes and Barbara took care of the food and the drinks. The party was going to be held at Anastasia’s home in Beverly Hills, she hasn’t thrown a party there since she was in college. She and Mandy were really excited for their outfits: plaid miniskirts, tight sweaters, thigh-high socks and heeled ankle boots, combat style, an outfit that would had made Cher Horowitz burn with envy.

When Anastasia got downstairs a nice group of friends and family were already there: her dad, Mark and Stephanie (who was looking amazing with a long spaghetti-strap dress with a daisy print), Barbara and even Chad, his wife and Anthony made it to the party. Flea couldn’t go but Clara could make it, she brought her boyfriend with her; many high school friends were there too and some from college and in a corner of her backyard she saw a lavender head and next to her she spotted Josh, joined by Nick, Eric, Hannah and thankfully no Lauren to be seen. That would have been a slap in her face (seeing Lauren there), but Josh didn’t play that low.

Everyone greeted Anastasia and praised her outfit choice, especially Josh who couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. That made her feel powerful but she didn’t let it go to her head. She was having too much fun singing TLC songs with Mandy and Kelly while Josh recorded them with his phone. Everyone was having a nice time. But suddenly, she found herself alone with Josh in a corner of the backyard. She felt nervous so she started to talk about anything.

 -          I wanted to wear a cute Stones’ t-shirt I own but then I remember I left it at your house. I never went to pick up my stuff from your place, sorry about that – Anastasia said.

-          Don’t worry, they’re still there for whenever you want to come by – Josh said – Do you have the stuff I left here?

-          No. I threw it away – Anastasia said and Josh looked surprised – Joking, Mandy put it in a box in the basement and that’s how I knew I had a basement!

-          What? – Josh laughed.

-          I always knew there was one extra door in this house – She was barely sober by that moment.

-          You’re crazy – Josh was laughing hard – Hey, come with me so I can give you your gifts.

 And just like that, without any warning, Josh took her right hand and walked her out of the house to his car: He opened the trunk and two big boxes laid there, wrapped in black wrapping paper with a silver moon print and silver bows on top.

 -          You need to open them now – Josh said – I want you to do it here, with no one around.

-          Really? – She looked at him.

 He nodded as she proceeded to open the boxes. She chose the small one first, even though it was still big, tearing the paper like a small kid on Christmas, it was a new turntable, all crystal clear, perfect size.

 -          It was my fault you destroyed yours, so… - Josh said scratching his head with his free hand (he had his drink in the other) – It’s the same I have at home, it sounds like heaven.

 She smiled and looked at the other box, it was larger and she destroyed the paper with little patience. It was a guitar case. Josh helped put it near her on the trunk so she could open it. It was dark outside but she could see that the case was made in dark blue synthetic leather and had a pattern of half-moons all over.

 -          I know you like moons – He said smiling.

 Anastasia’s chin went straight to the floor when she opened the case. It was a custom made Fender Stratocaster guitar, with a mirror finish and a bird and a flower print. The scratch plate was made in mother-of-pearl. It was the most beautiful guitar she had ever seen.

 -          Look at this – Josh said pointing at the head were her name was engraved in gold.

-          Josh, this is beautiful! – She picked the guitar, the strap had moons all over too – I have no words.

-          Just say thanks and let’s go back to the party – Josh took the guitar and placed it on the case, but Anastasia couldn’t take it anymore and hugged him. She hugged him so tightly while tears started to run from her eyes – Don’t cry!

-          It’s just that this is so beautiful! – She said – When did you have it made?

-          Around October – He answered.

-          Is this because I gave you a custom made guitar too?

-          No! Not at all. I just thought that it was going to be something you would appreciate. I wanted it to be ready for Christmas, but the team couldn’t do it so I saved it for your birthday.

-          This is so special! – She was feeling all kinds of things inside her brain by that moment and mixed with alcohol it made more tears run down her face.

-          You are special – He said and took her by her chin to wipe her tears away.

 They locked eyes and stared at each other for what it seemed an eternity. Anastasia wanted to kiss Josh but she knew it wasn’t the most intelligent thing to do. However, he surprised her coming closer and joining his lips with her. She missed him, she missed that. Josh gave her the most sweet, caring kiss she had had in a long time. Not even when they were a couple did he kiss her that way. It was slow but full of passion. Josh broke away and ran his thumb over Anastasia’s lips, looking into her eyes with desire.

 -          I think we should go back inside – He was the first to talk, breaking the spell.

-          Yes – She agreed, breathing heavily. She attempted to grab her gifts but Josh stopped her.

-          Don’t worry, I’ll carry them inside before I leave, later.

Anastasia smiled and walked back to the house without even noticing if Josh was following her. She was shocked, smiling like she hadn’t smiled in weeks. She decided to not say anything to anyone, to keep the surprise for later but she was the one about to be surprised again that night.

Later, when most of the guest had already left, she was inside the living room when her father approached her.

 -          Come with me – An’s dad said – I have a surprise for you.

 He walked with her to the garden where she saw Mark, Stephanie, Nick, Eric, Hannah, Kelly, Josh, Barbara, Anthony, Mandy, Peyton, Clara and her boyfriend, Chad and his wife and a blond lady in the middle of them. Anastasia recognized her and stood still abruptly. She couldn’t believe it, it was Stevie Nicks, wearing the most gorgeous blue shawl she had ever seen, with fringes all over. Anastasia looked at his father who laughed because she must have the most stupid look on her face by now. Stevie walked towards her and gave the birthday girl a warm hug; it was just how she imagined it would be. Anastasia wasn’t a girl with idols and she wasn’t a fan of anything, but Stevie Nicks was in a whole other level. She touched Stevie’s face, then regretted it and said sorry, but the “White Witch,” as some called Nicks, just laughed.

 -          Mister Nick here told me it was your birthday – Stevie said – And I wanted to come and say hi since I heard you are a big fan.

-          The biggest! – She said without thinking about it and everyone laughed. Anastasia could see Mandy was crying and smiling.

-          I must admit that I’m your fan too – Stevie said – I love your music, it’s so pure and the way you sing it is magical.

-          I can’t believe you are saying this – Anastasia said – Have you listened to us?

-          All your records – Stevie answered smiling.

-          Shut up! – Anastasia smiled wider.

-          I think we should go inside and play some music – Anastasia’s dad said – Would you like that? – She didn’t answer; instead she jumped into his arms giving him a big hug.

 Once everyone found a place in the living room, Nick handle a guitar to Stevie and Anastasia sat next to her in the big central couch. Stevie started to play the first notes of “Landslide” and the midnight-blue-haired girl looked at Josh instantly, he smiled tenderly at her. Both singers recited every word on that song. After that “Dreams” followed, then it was the turn for “Sara,” in “Gypsy” Stevie gave the guitar to An, she played and they finished with everyone singing along to “The Chain.”

That was the best birthday Anastasia could have had, without a doubt. She went to sleep that night with the biggest smile on her face and next morning when she walked downstairs and saw Josh’s gifts near her kitchen that smile became wider.

But, above all, she wasn’t going to get over that fact that Stevie “Dame” Nicks had been at her place the night before to serenade her on her birthday. That was the best gift of all without a doubt.

Read chapter 30

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Hedman, Trocheck, Gibson, Neal, Zibanejad, and More – August 24

  The summer has seemingly disappeared behind us as we enter the final weekend in August. For those putting off getting your fantasy hockey preparation underway, now would be a good time to start. Head to the Dobber Shop and grab your copy of the 2018-19 Dobber fantasy hockey guide now! It includes projected production, projected lines, a bevy of articles, and a whole lot more. It is also updated as new information is available.

*

A few days ago, I was fortunate to take part in a fantasy hockey mock draft with a lot of smart people from around the hockey industry. These people were as follows:

Chris Meaney – Various spots, NHL at Fantrax

Chris Wassel – Dobber Hockey and Sporting News

Drew Livingstone – Sportsnet

Esten McLaren – theScore

George Kurtz – Roto Experts

Jamie Zadow – Dobber Prospects and Winging It In Motown

Mike Omelan – Freelance Reporter

Neil Parker – Fantrax

Scott Levy – NHL Breakdown

Eric Young – WWE Superstar and Fantasy Enthusiast

Andrew Reid – FNTSY Network

Eric Young is on WWE’s Smackdown program, which was running concurrently with our mock draft. He can be forgiven for a few auto-picks here.

A few notes about the mock draft format:

12 teams with 25-man rosters, 300 players drafted

Roster construction is as follows: three centres, three left wingers, three right wingers, four defencemen, three utility skaters, two goaltenders, seven bench slots.

Scoring for skaters: goals, assists, special-teams points (PP+PK), shots on goal, hits, blocked shots, takeaways

Scoring for goalies: Wins, GAA, save percentage, shutouts

Scoring like this lends itself to different picks in a different order than you’ll see in some other drafts. In this particular format, in 2017-18, Connor McDavid ranked lower than Jamie Benn, Vincent Trocheck was the #2 skater behind Taylor Hall, and Seth Jones was more valuable than Sidney Crosby. Before getting angry in the comments, just understand that this will be unique compared to, say, Yahoo standard formats.

Anyway, to the draft!

The entire draft board can be viewed here. This was my final roster, in order they were drafted:

    The thought process on some of my picks.

First, I hate drafting in the middle of a round. It’s good in the sense that you don’t get caught out on runs, but quite often you find yourself taking a player maybe a round or two earlier than you wanted. For example, when we got to the 10th round, we were getting into the range where I wanted to grab Kyle Palmieri. On the other hand, there were other right wingers, and many skaters, still left on the board that ranked ahead of him. But did I want to take the chance of letting him slide another round and go for someone else? I had Clayton Keller queued up behind him and was basically going to choose one or the other. Had I chosen Keller instead, would I have gotten Palmieri in round 11 with 10 picks between? Maybe, maybe not. I didn’t get Keller, landed Palmieri, and had to walk away with it. Were I on the turn, or near to it, it would have been an easier decision.

  Top Three Picks

Victor Hedman – Some people might say it’s too early, but he was the #3 defenceman in this format last year (#2 was Carlson, whom Hedman should probably surpass this year) and I wanted to try Laidlaw’s strategy of grabbing a stud defenceman early.

  Vincent Trocheck – In this type of format, Trocheck is a monster. It’ll be another season with loads of minutes featuring top-end wingers and top power-play minutes. Sign me up.

  John Gibson – This is another instance where picking in the middle of a round both helped and hurt. The goalie run started in round 2 with Vasilevskiy, Andersen, Rinne, and Hellebuyck going off the board, and Bobrovsky and Quick in round 3 before this pick. Had I not taken Gibson, I’m likely going with Tuukka Rask or Antti Raanta as my top goalie, which might be fine but I didn’t want to take too big a gamble. Then again, I was forced to take Gibson earlier than I wanted, so again, it’s that double-edged sword of being in the middle of a round.

  Rickard Rakell and Jonathan Marchessault – Both scoring wingers who should be featured on the top line of their respective teams and can chip in with a lot of hits and shots. That helps provide a safety net for those with concerns about regression.

  Mika Zibanejad – It’s not talked about often, but Zibanejad is usually good for triple-digit hits in full seasons (he had 92 in 72 games last year). He should play a lot of minutes on a good top line with top PP minutes. Getting him outside the first 10 rounds was a gift.

  James Neal – Neal’s biggest problem the last couple seasons are his assists. If he skates on the top line with Johnny Gaudreau and Sean Monahan, as well as the top PP unit, that’s a problem that should correct itself. If he’s on the second line, maybe not. I though it worth the gamble in the 14th round.

  Milan Lucic – I know we make fun of him a lot because of his contract, but his shooting percentage was less than half his three-year average. He had his highest expected goals number (via Corsica) since the lockout season, it just so happened to be in a season with a five-on-five shooting percentage under six percent. With his monster hit totals, just 20 goals and 20 assists would be fine. Another gamble worth taking just inside the 200th pick.

  Jesse Puljujarvi – I’ve said before that he’s the team’s best right winger and I stand by it (though I’ll admit Kailer Yamamoto could prove me wrong this year). In a just world, he’ll be in the top-6 by November and hopefully top PP minutes with it. At pick 222, it’s worth finding out if I’m right.

  Tomas Tatar – He had a bad year last year which is why his ADP was depressed. He still has four consecutive seasons of at least 20 goals, two shots per game, and 65 hits, which includes his brutal 2017-18. He’ll likely line up with Paul Stastny, which is a fine centre to get him the puck. Even a modest rebound this year should pay dividends.

  Ryan Pulock and Nick Leddy – I grabbed Pulock earlier because I think his peripheral contributions will be much stronger and he can do it while being a 35-point defenceman. When Leddy was still there at the end of the draft, I figured why not get myself their PP quarterback.

  Those are my thoughts on some of my picks. If you want thoughts on the others, just hit up the comments.

  Now, let’s look at the rest of the draft.

  Brayden Schenn – I’m a big fan of this pick in this format at the Round2/3 turn. With a healthy Vladimir Tarasenko and a (hopefully) improved top PP unit, Schenn could be the Vincent Trocheck of 2018-19. He has legitimate top-5 upside.

  Auston Matthews – Here’s the long and short of it: If the Leafs split PP units again, we cannot hope for more than 20 power-play points from Matthews. In formats that count hits, it’s a huge knock to his value (Matthews has 37 career hits). In formats that don’t include hits, he’s probably a top-10 pick, but that, along with the PP uncertainty, is why he slid so far. If all breaks right, though, there clearly is upside to grabbing him early in the third round.

  Vladimir Tarasenko – I was rattled he got snagged; I took Joe Pavelski three picks later and had hoped for Tarasenko. Tarasenko had what would be called a down year and he still managed both 30 goals and 30 assists with over 300 shots and a hit per game. Like Schenn, if that power play turns around for the Blues, and Tarasenko is healthy, there’s upside even as a mid-fourth round pick.

  Colton Parayko and Alex Pietrangelo

I’m sure some people are a bit confounded on Parayko, the guy not on the top PP unit, going ahead of Pietrangelo, the guy on the top PP unit.

Here’s the thing: Parayko had 80 more hits and the same number of takeaways in 2017-18 as Pietrangelo. Yes, Pietrangelo has the production edge, but Parayko has the peripheral edge. Also, if Parayko’s shooting percentage were to ever improve (he’s shot under 3 percent in back-to-back seasons), he’s a 40+ point defenceman with 200+ shots and triple-digit hits/blocked shots. That’s valuable.

  Nico Hischier

Little-known fact: Hischier was just the fourth teenager since the 2012 lockout to finish a season with at least 20 goals, 30 assists, and 180 shots. The others are Nathan MacKinnon, Jack Eichel, and Clayton Keller. Hischier accomplished this with just six power-play points. Assuming he moves to the top unit, there is a lot of production upside here. Not to mention he chipped in 56 hits, which isn’t mind-blowing, but won’t hurt a fantasy roster, either. If he’s attached at the hip with Taylor Hall all season, at all strengths, there could be a big year in store.

  Rasmus Dahlin and Rasmus Ristolainen

The Buffalo Rasmuses (Rasmusi? RasmusiI? Rasmii?) had a massive gap in ADP, with Ristolainen going 69th overall and Dahlin in the 12th round. I have written recently that I think Dahlin will be over-drafted but this draft slotting is a lot more palatable. Were he to be drafted where he’s been picked in some mock drafts and in other rankings, he would have been in the same range as Ristolainen, Tyson Barrie, John Klingberg, Mark Giordano, and Colton Parayko. To put him in that company right away is a mighty lofty expectation.

  Jordan Eberle

There is a reasonable chance that Eberle lines up on Mat Barzal’s right wing both at even strength and on the power play. They need to replace Tavares on the power play, and just moving Barzal into Tavares’s role and Eberle into Barzal’s role seems to make a lot of sense. Eberle isn’t a stat-stuffer, which is why he was taken just inside the top-200, but we could see 30 goals and 60 points from him this year. 

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-hedman-trocheck-gibson-neal-zibanejad-and-more-august-24/

[joescanlan-blog]

Fun’s Not Dumb: An Art World of Entertainment

For a while there, many lived under the delusion that comprehensive exhibitions about relevant cultural phenomena had the power to become paradigm-shifting events, not only for art but for the culture-at-large. Students of history will recall Harald Szeeman’s “ When Attitudes Become From” at Kunstalle Bern in 1996, or Thomas Lawson’s “A Fatal Attraction: Art and the Media” at The Renaissance Society in 1982, or even Elizabeth Sussman’s 1993 Whitney Biennial—exhibitions that officially acknowledged coming changes in the accepted form and content of art. Of course, such “ timely” exhibitions marked the end rather than the beginning of the trends they chronicled and painstakingly maintained the perception of art as a harbinger of things to come.

Art continues to enjoy the illusion of cultural authority, not because it is vital or intelligent but because it refuses to recognize its competition. In fact, Szeeman’s show postdates Marshall McLuhan’s Understanding Media by five years, Lawson’s the home video recorder by seven, and even Sussmans’s—diverse as it was by art-world standards—appears in hindsight to be a mere provincial reflection on the democratization of the Internet. “ Let’s Entertain: Life’s Guilty Pleasures,” a show organized by Philippe Vergne at the Walker Art Center, tries to embrace the notion of art as just another form of popular culture, without being critical or condescending. And while I doubt that it will be as paradigmatic as the iMac or the Star Wars trilogy—which is, by the way, the height of the bar these days—the exhibition is nonetheless an impressive, if problematic, arm’s-length look at one of the art world’s more uncomfortable taboos.

Art history abounds with aphorisms denigrating all forms of audience concession, from Andy Warhol’s “Cute rots the intellect” to Oscar Wilde’s “Art should not try to be popular, the public should make itself more artistic.” Disdain for popular appeal, however, often masks a jealous desire for the breadth of influence and depth of feeling that entertainment imparts on the general public. Indeed, in “Come Back to Pleasure,” the keynote essay in the exhibition catalogue, philosopher Richard Shusterman credits no less a snob than T.S. Eliot with the remark that the poet “ would like to be something of a popular entertainer…As things are, and as fundamentally they must always be, poetry is not a career, but a mug’s game.” Of course, in the mug’s game of entertainment, the audience either already knows the source or simply assumes the present mug has invented it. The free use of good material is a vital aspect of the entertainment industry, from song hooks and sitcom quips to computer animation and period drama. Familiarity breeds success, and the dizzying speed at which a phrase or gesture can be assimilated is the main reason such phenomena are not taken seriously. “Let’s Entertain” begs to differ—largely on the premise that pleasure and democracy have replaced difficulty and elitism as yardsticks of important art. In so doing, it suggests that power, culture, and class politics have entered into serious flux.

There is no better evidence of this Machiavellian shift than a 1980 appearance by Johnny Lydon on American Bandstand. Video tape of the performance is one of the earliest bits of evidence in “Let’s Entertain,” and the ethical question of whether Lydon has “evolved” or “sold out” haunts all those who follow. With the Sex Pistols gone in a burst of flames and wreckage, Lydon’s reincarnation as the frontman for Public Image Limited averred that anarchy was no longer an agent for social change. By appearing to give the public what it wanted, the slick, media-friendly PIL suggested that a darker, more insidious form of cynicism than punk might be, well, catchy lyrics and a danceable beat. Throughout the performance, Lyndon flaunts the fact that he is lip-syncing (then still an industry no-no), and at one point even sticks his microphone to a young woman’s lips just in time for her to mouth his next lyric. It’s a great, black, hopeless bit of humor that has the effect of setting you free.

This precious moment is a how-to video for viewing the rest of the show. Where art institutions have a long legacy of promoting art as a means of social betterment—regarding its viewers as passive subjects in need of inoculation against the baseness of more popular diversions—Lydon regards his shiny young fans as willing recipients of an infection. The idea of entertainment as a virus is well-exploited by popular music and film, but it was not until the late nineteen seventies that visual artists became knowingly and willingly contaminated, treating their minds and bodies like lengths of pipe through which so much behavioral information flows. And while “Let’s Entertain” accurately identifies the beginning of art’s liberation from forty years in the Modernist desert, much of the recent work in the show adds little to the instincts of Lydon’s generation.

Such is the case with Kyupi Kyupi, a current Japanese collaboration that makes music, videos, and performances that get spun off as CDs and books. Assuming the mantle of such nineteen-seventies art-school-assignments-turned-pop-culture-footnotes as Devo or Kraftwerk, Kyupi Kyupi takes the anxiety of influence one step further—by leaving out the anxiety part altogether, demonstrating a lack of interest in subverting anything except the expectation of art as subversion. Fishheads (1999-2000) is a short videotape in which three young men are dressed in primary-colored wetsuits with matching fishhead-shaped helmets. They do some primitive, martial choreography for a while before pursuing a leggy, Japanese version of Pam Grier. Or is that a Pam Grier version of a Japanese? Who cares? Decisions get made, things happen, the tape ends. That’s about it.

I like that approach to art-making and even admire its expendability. However, Kyupi Kyupi’s antics too often typify Vergne’s criteria for what it means to be entertaining, implying that all entertainment, by its very definition, is vacuous, derivative, and forgettable. This explains the “Life’s Guilty Pleasures” apology that is the tag line of the show, as if running home to watch The Simpsons was morally inferior to running out to see your local William Kentridge retrospective. Thus, my disappointment with “Let’s Entertain” is that it hypes a clichéd, obsequious notion of entertainment over subtler or nastier forms, a slant that not only limits the possibilities of the premise but also betrays a lack of confidence in the viewer’s ability to be comfortable with what they like. To my mind, Stan Douglas is more entertaining than Piotr Uklanski, but I doubt Douglas’s Monodramas—a series of short establishing shots lacking any subsequent action or dialogue—will get held up as an example of good entertainment to the same extent that Uklanski’s readymade installations of disco floors and mirrored balls are.

While it could be suggested that “Let’s Entertain” merely wants to knock art down a peg or two in the process of making it more competitive with the wider culture, I would counter that in its haste to be immediately relevant it obliterates the arcana that is art’s strength. Instant Gratification can be fun, but some things are ultimately more desirable when they’re at least unfamiliar, if not offensive. Indeed, that may be precisely the effect “Let’s Entertain” will have on the art world, but such discomfort is still rooted in an unwillingness to consider art as entertainment in the first place. If bearing the anxiety of whether or not we’re attracted to art is the foundation of the pleasure it gives us, then whatever anxiety “Let’s Entertain” induces only serves to entrench an old belief: that art is special and everything else is not, until proven otherwise (as art).

This class distinction is underscored by the fact that some of art’s most impressive entertainers are not part of the exhibition. Had Edward Ruscha or Allen Ruppersberg been included in the show—let alone Laurie Anderson, Talking Heads, or Sonic Youth—then most of the art in “ Let’s Entertain” would pale in comparison. Furthermore, while Dike Blair’s collected interviews with Karen Daroff (theme restaurant designer), Jonathan Ive (Apple Computers), J Mays (vw bug), Gordon Thompson III (Nike), and Jack Womack (pulp-fiction writer) in the catalogue demonstrate a prescient eye for the cultural powerbrokers of our time, their inclusion in the discussion ultimately serves to make art seem all the more puny and derivative. Which is fine, if art is willing to acknowledge the fact that it is puny and derivative, in which case we’d finally be free to enjoy whatever great or small insights our experience of it might give us.

Musician Kim Gordon once observed that, after Pop art, it is better to enter into popular culture than to go on making art that merely comments on it. She was right, but being right means having to be truly competitive in you cultural field of choice. This is neither an easy nor very promising task for contemporary artists, unless we approach art as just another form of popular culture. In such an environment, many of today’s artists no longer make “ challenging” work but work that commands an exclusive market niche, a brand of structural rigor and dry humor that reflects the consumption patterns of a small but loyal demographic. Does that make their work any less interesting? No. Does it shed light on their motivations and demonstrate that their works are not tainted by the admission of a little audience savvy? Certainly.

For example, in Fresh Acconci (1995), Mike Kelley and Paul McCarthy put their marketing pitch up front as the simultaneously transform it into art. In the original videotapes, Vito Acconci’s lugubrious threats and come-ons are a kind of last stand of the self, a schizophrenic whose livelihood depends on his ability to persuade us of his fears and desires. In Kelley and McCarthy’s remake, Acconci’s scripts have been slavishly adhered to, but their mood has been radically altered through the use of spokesmodels and exercise video extras who are by turns reclining languorously on a bearskin rug, tangling in a sudsy tub, or wrestling in a stucco rotunda. Whatever angst dripped from Acconci’s originals has been burned off by movie lights, replacing Acconci’s lone rendition of the self with no less sinister, interchangeable androids. Fresh Acconci’s “fuck you, here’s more of the same, on re-mastered” attitude is a blunt acknowledgement of the pre-packaged art historical legitimacy that can separate a knowing artist from the pack.

Thirty-three years ago, Robert Smithson was complaining about curators wanting to liven things up in museums, tending to make of them a kind of specialized entertainment venue. (Smithson, of course, preferred the institution’s inherent emptiness to the human impulse to “fill it up.” ) It apparently never occurred to Smithson that museums had always been in the business of specialized entertainment, nor did it occur to him that his concepts of emptiness and displacement could just as well be seen as sly inversions of industry standards, no more or less clever than Jerry Seinfeld’s television show about nothing or Gary Shandling’s partially buried career. Most importantly, entertainment itself might be a kind of profound emptiness. Indeed, the only thing emptier than an empty museum might be a museum full of entertainment. What’s interesting now about museums is the fact that it really doesn’t make much difference whether their “emptiness” is provided by Robert Smithson or Maurizio Cattelan—just so their ever-expanding spaces get filled. That’s neither the fault nor the revelation of “Let’s Entertain,” merely the condition it finds itself observing without the nerve to be skeptical of it.

No matter. I have only ever been interested in art because I found it entertaining, and while I can’t understand why someone would look at art for any other reason, I would also suggest that no one really does. I know that there are people who look at art because they believe its good for them, and that there are just as many whose livelihood is to propagate that belief, but doing something because it’s good for you still boils down to the desire to be entertained by your own behavior. If I have a predilection for Samuel Beckett or Agnes Martin, then it’s because I find their work entertaining—and, of course, beautiful. That doesn’t make me special, just a particular (and marginally profitable) consumer whose favorite products are seldom on the display. Were such artists presented as the unadorned Wasa crackers that they are, instead of birthday cakes with useful implements hidden inside, then their infrequent appearances might at least be accompanied by a less desperate, more contented mood, one that refrains from ascribing reasons and simply acknowledges our delight in their existence.

First Published in Art Issues 64 (Sept., 2000): 20-22.

Visit Joe Scanlan’s website to see more of his written works.

[dustedmagazine]

The Dusted Mid-Year Exchange: 2018 Edition, Part 1

In our fifth annual switcheroo, Dusted writers review each other’s favorite records, venturing out of the genres where they feel most comfortable to wrestle with excellence outside their frame of reference.  As always, assignments were made at random with the only rules being: a) you can’t review your own pick and b) you can’t review something you’ve already written about for Dusted.  

Unlike in past years, there was no clear favorite in 2018, although artists including Marisa Anderson, Olden Yolk, DJ Koze and Kacey Musgraves made multiple lists.  And perhaps most heartening, a number of writers amended their mid-year favorites after listening to other writers’ picks.  We hope you’ll also be able to find some new favorites among the artists we highlight.

Today, we’ll run the first half of the mid-year blurbs (alphabetically) from Marisa Anderson to Joelle Leandre & Elisabeth Harnik.  We’ll cover the second half of the alphabet tomorrow, then close our feature with individual writers’ best of lists through the first half.

Marisa Anderson — Cloud Corner (Thrill Jockey)

Cloud Corner by Marisa Anderson

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Who recommended it? Eric McDowell

Did we review it? Not yet, but it’s assigned.  

Ben Donnelly’s take:

"Slow Ascent" is one of the titles in Anderson's latest batch of profound electric guitar explorations. It's a good phrase to summarize her career and style, hiking higher with each release, wandering further from the trails. For the second time, she's tracking a few extra instruments into her miniatures without disrupting the solitude, keyboards and acoustic strings mostly matching the cracks and chime of her main axe. Her fingerpicking has a fractal aspect, where intricate and rapid patterns can create a cycle that's relaxed and gradual, as on the title track and other lilting numbers. "Lament," a slide blues with a dissipating tempo and skeletal keyboard notes is forceful in its minimalism. She's becoming a master of small contrasts. Nowhere better than the closer "Lift,” where folks sounds step aside for a plucky scale that spirals up, offset by sweeps that sound like brushing the harp of an open-lidded grand piano, but take focus as a harmonized electric. Her brilliance is ever more in focus.

 The Armed — Only Love (Throatruiner)

ONLY LOVE by The Armed

Who recommended it? Jonathan Shaw

Did we review it? Yes. Jonathan Shaw said, “The Armed will likely be delighted by the divisive responses Only Love generates.”

Ian Mathers’ take:

You almost wish for anyone who’s potentially up for the Armed’s pummelling, exuberant, often frantic, tremendously maximalist take on hardcore and assorted associated genres to come to the record totally blind, and not just because “Witness” comes leaping out of the gates so forcefully. It can be fun to start digging around and register all the distancing tactics, purposeful obfuscation, sense of play, and weird links (to everything from Converge to, err, Rubicam and Young), but the visceral impact of Only Love is powerful enough that all that context should be saved for later. It’s one thing to start filling in context, it’s another thing to hear something as ferocious and compelling as “Role Models” (“NO INS! NO OUTS!” yell-chanted in a way I’m pretty sure even little kids would find appealing, if you could sneak this synth-spiked bomb past their parents) in the context of trying to figure out the game, if there is indeed a game here. After the roiling chaos of the first few listens subsides the sheer number of hooks packed inside these songs really settle in your mind, anchored by Ben Koller’s incredible drumming (possibly commissioned on false pretences) and just as adept at etching out a multi-part climax like the seething “On Jupiter” as just full-on sprinting on the likes of “Heavily Lined.” And then there’s “Fortune’s Daughter,” maybe the strongest earworm I’ve encountered yet in 2018. Who are the Armed and what are they up to? It’s not that I’m not interested in the answer to that kind of question, it’s more that as long as they keep making records as good as Only Love I’m happy to believe whatever they tell us (or don’t).

 Bardo Pond — Volume 8 (Fire)

Volume 8 by Bardo Pond

Who recommended it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Jennifer said, “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.”

Isaac Cooper’s take:

Like fellow travelers Yo La Tengo’s There’s A Riot Going On, Bardo Pond’s Volume 8 is stitched together from jam excerpts and spare parts, but unlike Riot, Volume 8 is remarkably cohesive and propulsive. Even at its droniest and spaciest, there is no shortage of momentum or sense that Volume 8 is a collection of barrel scrapings to tide over the diehards; it stands with any of Bardo Pond’s releases. The guitars on “Kailash” and “Flayed Wish” howl and wail like Lear on the heath, while the rhythm section pushes on, determined as Sisyphus. Two shorter pieces, “Power Children” and the gorgeous solo guitar piece “Cud,” act as a brief respite before the entropic and monstrously heavy closer, “And I Will”. Musical improvisation is one of the best means we have of tapping into the murky world of the unconscious, and Volume 8 demonstrates that while there’s plenty of chaos and darkness down there, it’s also the source of inspiration and transcendence.

 Cut Worms — Hollow Ground (Jagjaguwar)

Hollow Ground by Cut Worms

Who recommended it? Ben Donnelly

Did we review it? Not yet...

Patrick Masterson’s take:

“Amid all the noise nowadays, there’s precious little that still makes me feel the way those peoples’ songs do, and aspiring to reach that level is a big part of what makes me do this to begin with.” This is Cut Worms’ Max Clarke in a charmingly earnest Medium interview last fall on some of his biggest influences – John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Lou Reed. Maybe you’ve heard of them; maybe you’ve heard of the level of cultural influence they have exerted on us all. And if you’ve heard the Alien Sunset EP that was released just after the interview ran, you’ll easily be able to see where Clarke was coming from in the time that he spent putting the homespun eight-track wonder together, splitting halves between Chicago and his current Brooklyn home. It’s a beautiful record that doesn’t overplay its hand, choosing instead to let the simplicity of his natural ear for a melody do the talking despite the humble recording quality. He was never going to reach the mythical heights of his influences plying away at that trade forever, of course, but his art was all the better for sounding so self-assured in its limitations.

Hollow Ground, however, is a Trojan Horse of the most exhausting variety. Those same reference points – the Beatles, Dylan, solo Reed – still apply, only here they spring forth in an aggressively augmented form with a backing band and a more fleshed-out sound that’s like saying, “Alexa, give me every pop music trend of the 60s at once” or, more accurately, like listening to someone too young to have experienced the decade but old enough to be familiar with its most basic cultural signifiers play an album’s worth of icons. How do we know? Check the new versions of Alien Sunset’s “Don’t Want to Say Good-Bye” and “Like Going Down Sideways”; they’re wholly different, coldly unlovable remakes of the intimate originals. Even his lyrics feel unconvincing; Clarke uses the pet name “baby” on 60% of the songs here, which, look: I don’t need to stare into a wordless void with Bill Basinski to feel something and there’s an evident surplus of genuinely touching heartache present, but that’s an affectation of the most irritatingly trite variety.

For a certain kind of person, Max Clarke is the perfect person; for that person, Hollow Ground will resonate simply, perfectly. I am not that person. I will never listen to this again – likely not individual songs, certainly not in full. Does that seem unduly harsh? Does it feel too personal? Does the cut worm forgive the plow? Guess we’ll see. Ask again when there’s a follow-up.

  Sarah Davachi— Let Night Come on Bells End the Day (Recital)

Who recommended it? Bryan Daly

Did we review it? No

Bill Meyer’s take:

Sarah Davachi puts out albums often enough that it’s hard to catch up, so please cut Dusted some slack for not getting to Let Night Come on Bells End the Day until now. The Canadian composer and multi-instrumentalist has followed All My Circles Run, an all-acoustic minimalist chamber piece, with an overdubbed solo recording for electric organ, acoustic piano, Mellotron and synthesizers. Like some ecclesiastic initiate, she has followed a solitary path to arrive at a place that is one with the cosmos. Her slow-morphing tones, incremental melodies, and exquisitely voiced harmonies don’t just sound like they should be played in a chapel; they erect a virtual space around the listener that only lets the ineffable through.  If Andrei Tarkovsky was still around, he might be writing a movie to wrap around these sounds.

  DJ Koze — Knock Knock (Pampa Records)

Who recommended it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? Yes. Jennifer Kelly said it “has a humid, organic air, even its most rigorously electronic tracks seething with jungle-y vitality and caressing warmth.”  

Ian Mathers’ take:

Like a lot of his peers, DJ Koze has been active and prolific for years without ever putting out that much in the way of “proper” albums, which probably goes some way towards explaining why Knock Knock, only his third, sounds so relaxed, confident and casually accomplished. With stellar vocal turns by everyone from Lambchop’s Kurt Wagner to folkie José González to Róisín Murphy (who’s rarely put her imperious purr to better effect than on the two perfectly-matched tracks she’s on here), 16 tracks in total and a lengthy running time, Knock Knock feels like a bit of a Statement from the producer. Which makes it maybe even more impressive that some of the best stuff here (like the sad jam “Pick Up” with its perfectly deployed vocal sample, or the almost-Avalanches style “Baby (How Much I LFO You)”) is just Koze without a high-profile guest vocalist. The whole thing has a friendly warmth and subtle propulsiveness that makes for compulsive listening; if this isn’t Koze at the peak of his powers, it sure feels like it could be.

 Tashi Dorji and Tyler Damon — Leave No Trace: Live in St. Louis (Family Vineyard)

Leave No Trace: Live In St. Louis by Tashi Dorji & Tyler Damon

Who recommended it? Isaac Olson

Did we review it? Yes, Isaac said, "While these performances are undoubtedly chaotic, they never feel purposeless.”

Justin Cober-Lake's take:

That guitarist Tashi Dorji and percussionist Tyler Damon have a limitless supply of ideas isn't surprising, but it's remarkable how well they've organized them into sensible packages on Leave No Trace: Live in St. Louis. Neither of the quarter-hour tracks here are exactly linear, but they do progress both coherently and unhaltingly. “Leave No Trace” offers the most noise, with the first half of the piece continuously crescendoing. The disappearance of one artist or the other simply means the soloist has more volume to cover. The pair spend the last two minutes together, Damon crashing away while Dorji sounds like two guitarists fitting blips together.

“Calm the Shadows” works differently. While not a suite, the song comes in sections, with Dorji and Damon filling in an outline as they go. The pair respond to each other, and work mutually on an unpredictable but discernable path. The slow build to the noisy section lets the chaos function as a thesis statement with the back half of the track the understanding of what to do with it. Dorji's pointed playing through that section answers the early rumble without making anything easier. Damon's sounds complete the thought. When “Leave No Trace” works so hard to slowly heap sounds before smashing through it all, the effect is amplified but the control of its predecessor. Dorji and Damon are a few albums in now and, while there wasn't much doubt from the start, they seem to be working in a rare place right now.

 Holland/Parker/Taborn/Smith—Uncharted Territories (Dare2 Records) 

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Not yet.

Jennifer Kelly’s take:

It feels like a math puzzle. How many distinct ensembles including duos, trios and quartets can be formed out of four musicians?  But hearing it in practice as master bassist Dave Holland, free jazz titan Evan Parker, pianist Craig Taborn and drummer-vibe-ist Ches Smith assemble and disassemble into improvisatory groups is quite another thing. “Trio No Tenor” on disc one takes a luminous shimmer from jangling metallic percussion, abstract interpolations of piano and the shape-shifting tone of plucked, hanging bass tones. “Duo Bass Tenor” on disc two is far more fluid and contemplative, as long bowed bass notes underline the fluttering explorations of sax; its two old friends finding space in each other’s musings, darting in to challenge and interject and locating points of agreement even in occasional dissonance. The quartets, though, are the most astonishing, (I like #5 from Disc 2), as extraordinary, unruly energies careen off one another, extemporizing, reacting, reaching over and in between each other in a dense mesh of sound that seems, nonetheless, uncrowded and precisely choreographed. Only three cuts were composed ahead, the rest worked out in two days of live improvisation. Uncharted indeed.

 Quin Kirchner — The Other Side of Time (Astral Spirits)

The Other Side of Time by Quin Kirchner

Who recommended it? Bill Meyer

Did we review it? Yes, Eric McDowell said: “ Kirchner sidesteps novelty and navel-gazing by putting pyrotechnics second to, well, music.”  

Jennifer Kelly’s take:

Kirchner leads from behind on this sprawling two LP solo debut, his drumming feverishly hot but held in check so that others — saxophonist Nate Lepine, bass clarinet player Jason Stein, trombonist Nick Broste and Matt Ulery — can take the spotlight. Interplay between the two reed players is intricately, acrobatically fine. In opener “Ritual,” Lepine jets off with Stein in hot, asynchronous pursuit, Kirchner executing a furiously syncopated undertow, part samba shuffle, part continually exploding roll. “Brainville,” the Sun Ra cover, swings and swaggers, bass and drums in arch, stylized conversation. Kirchner is, maybe a drummer’s drummer, but this is not a drummer’s record, except on two lovely, timbrally varied “Drums & Tines” tracks, where layers of kit rhythms and kalimba intersect in fascinating geometric patterns. Kirchner clearly reveres another band leader whose instrument didn’t always occupy the top of the mix; Mingus’ “Self-Portrait Three Colors” cuts the drums to brush-on-snares, while giving Broste a chance to wail, the two reedists to evoke lush dance-hall sensualism, the bassist to pluck out dark blots of body-moving tone. Kirchner is not the façade, but the architect and also the guy who holds up the building.

 Joelle Leandre & Elisabeth Harnik — Tender Music (Trost Records)

Tender Music by Joelle Leandre / Elisabeth Harnik

Who recommended it? Eric McDowell

Did we review it?  No

Isaac Olson’s take:

The best part of listening to improvised music is hearing the moment when the musicians lock in and the music takes on a life of its own, when the thrill of discovery dissolves the boundaries between performer and audience. There are many such moments on Tender Music, an improvised set from bassist Joelle Leandre and pianist Elisabeth Harnik. A few examples: the swelling tension that emerges at the one and a half minute mark of “Ear Area I,” the rising anxiety and tentative conclusion of “Ear Area IV”’s final minute, and the march that closes out “Ear Area VI”. Between these peaks, Leandre and Harnik evoke Cecil Taylor, Morton Feldman, blues, bop, classical and more, sometimes all within the space of two or three minutes. Fortunately, Leandre and Harnik are attentive enough players that their restlessness never comes at the cost of coherence. Leandre and Harnik are formidable soloists whose use of extended techniques coax ear-tickling, unexpected timbres from their instruments, but it is when they’re playing together, and more or less “normally,” that Tender Music is at its best, that the melodic and rhythmic invention of both players shines brightest, and that they’re able to speak to each other, and to us, most clearly.