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john-taylor-daily · 4 years

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Want to feel really old? Oh, go on then. Duran Duran turn 40 this year: the band, that is, not the members. For them it’s worse: Simon Le Bon is 61, John and Roger Taylor, each 59, and Nick Rhodes, the baby, 57.

As you would expect of a pop group who always appeared happiest hanging off a yacht in ruffled Antony Price suits, accessorised with a supermodel and a cocktail, they intend to celebrate in style, coronavirus permitting. So the plan, announced this week, is that on July 12, exactly 40 years since their first gig at the Rum Runner in Birmingham, they will perform in Hyde Park, headlining a bill that includes Nile Rodgers & Chic and their pal Gwen Stefani. Four of the original five will be there: the guitarist Andy Taylor, 59, left the band in 1985 and, after rejoining in 2001, walked out again five years later. In the past, the guitarist Warren Cuccurullo has filled in; this time Graham Coxon from Blur will take his place.

Then in autumn Duran Duran are releasing a new album, their 15th, which they are halfway through making.

Growing up in the West Midlands, I was a Duranie; my first gig was theirs at the NEC in Birmingham. To give an idea of the level of devotion, I had house plants named after each of them. John, his initials “JT” written on the pot in nail varnish, was a begonia; Rhodes, a busy lizzie; Le Bon, a rubber plant; Roger and Andy Taylor were cacti. My memory, foggy on so much, still holds the name of Nick Rhodes’s cat at the time (Sebastian). The household appliance “JT” would choose to be? “A refrigerator, so I would stay cool.”

But despite previous opportunities, I’ve avoided them bar an awkward backstage handshake with Le Bon. In the meantime, they have notched up record sales of 100 million, had 21 Top 20 hits in the UK and, unlike many bands who came to fame in the 1980s, they produce different, exciting, if not always lauded albums, working with new producers and musicians. They’ve had top five albums in each of the four decades they’ve worked. Their last album, Paper Gods (2015), produced by Mark Ronson and Rodgers, was their most successful for 25 years.

Now 46 and with no desire to anthropomorphise greenery, I meet Rhodes, the keyboardist, and John Taylor, the bass player, once described as having the squarest jaw in rock. Rhodes suggests his “local”, Blakes hotel in Chelsea, near the home he shares with his Sicilian girlfriend, Nefer Suvio (he and Julie Anne Friedman divorced in 1992; they have one child together, Tatjana). Taylor, just in from Los Angeles, home to his second wife, Gela Nash, who runs the fashion label Juicy Couture, invites me to his flat in Pimlico. Le Bon, still happily married to the supermodel Yasmin Le Bon with three grown-up daughters, is busy in the studio and Roger Taylor, four children and with second wife Gisella Bernales, is otherwise occupied.

Rhodes, who joins me in the bar at Blakes, has the same peroxide mop and alabaster skin that were always his trademark. He wears black trousers by the English designer Neil Barrett and a Savile Row jacket dressed down with a rock T-shirt from the Los Angeles company Punk Masters.

Four days later, I arrive at Taylor’s flat in a garden square where he greets me at the door dressed in black jeans and T-shirt, with sculpted bed-hair. I’m reminded of the time my brother splashed Sun-In on his to emulate Taylor’s bleached New Romantic fringe.

It’s good to have them back. They started on the new album in September at Flood Studios in Willesden, northwest London, and, as well as Coxon, have been working with three producers: Giorgio Moroder, Ronson and the DJ Erol Alkan. “The whole place is filled with analogue synthesizers, so it’s just joy for me,” says Rhodes, who began life as Nicholas Bates but renamed himself after a make of electronic keyboard.

Rhodes met Moroder — the “godfather of electronica” and the man behind Donna Summer’s I Feel Love — through a mutual friend of his girlfriend. “We talked about music and what had happened to us,” Rhodes says. “He is as sharp as a razor, 79 going on 45.” They worked with Ronson, who has produced Amy Winehouse and Adele, in LA. “The first thing Mark always says is, ‘Let me hear the rest of it,’” Rhodes says with a laugh. “He is quite competitive.”

Taylor, who leads me into a room that’s more gentlemen’s club than rock-star pad with an open fire, armchairs, brown furniture and bad Victorian paintings, says the break of five years has refuelled them. “We have to starve ourselves of creativity long enough that when we do show up we have something to say,” he says. “[The studio sessions] are quite exhausting because we have been down this road. We can finish each other’s sentences and I guess, to some extent, we can do that musically as well. We are working with the same cast; it’s like a soap opera. That’s why collaborators become so important as you need to keep the spirit lively.”

Rhodes, who says the new album is more “handmade” and “guitary”, explains the working dynamics: “John and Roger’s rhythm section often drives a track. Simon, the lyricist, gives all the songs our identity; it’s his voice that tells you it’s Duran Duran. My part has more to do with sonic architecture.” That may be the most Nick Rhodes phrase yet.

We move on to Andy Taylor. “Forty years ago we had Andy in the band and he was a strong flavour and a northerner and brought a rigour,” says John Taylor. “Filling that vacuum has always been one of the major challenges of version two of the band; we did it with Warren Cuccurullo and with Graham on this record. But it’s not the same. Andy didn’t mind telling people what they were doing wrong.”

He pauses. “We had a reunion with Andy [in 2001] and that was enormously difficult, actually.” How so? “That’s a book really,” says Taylor, who has written about the saga, along with his struggle with drink and drugs, in his excellent 2012 memoir In the Pleasure Groove. “Or it’s a mini-series.”

“It was very uncomfortable for us,” Rhodes says of Andy leaving in 1985. “For sure, it had become stressful over the previous year — we were all burnt out from not having stopped for five years — but we didn’t see it coming at all.”

What are relations with Andy like now? “I don’t really have any,” says Rhodes. “I haven’t seen him for many years since he left the last time. I was not even slightly surprised when it did fall apart. I was relieved. As much as Andy is a great musician he is not an easy person to play with.”

I mention to Taylor that Andy has just announced his own UK dates in May, playing Duran songs. “Uh-ha,” he says. He didn’t know. Does he mind? “I don’t mind at all. All power to him,” says Taylor. “I would rather he be out playing.”

Taylor has the sanguine air of someone who has spent decades nuking his demons (he’s currently working on guilt; he had a Catholic mother). He has been sober for 26 years after an addiction which in part led to the break-up of his marriage to the TV presenter Amanda de Cadenet in 1997. Was it hard at first? “It was like turning round an ocean liner,” he says, his voice posh Brum with a California chaser. “I work a daily programme and that’s what keeps me sober. It’s not something that just happens; it takes a lot of attention.”

We move on to the themes of the new, as yet untitled, album. Le Bon lost his mother recently, so we can expect songs inspired by loss. Taylor says he took inspiration from “the challenges of long-term relationships . . . Take a song like Save a Prayer, which personally I think is one of the greatest ever songs in praise of the one-night stand,” he says. “It comes to the point where you can’t write something like that. It’s not age-appropriate; yet it is sexy. So how do you write from the perspective of someone who is trying to keep a long-term relationship together? That is the challenge of any late-age pop star. How do you make it chic, to use one of Nick’s favourite words.”

It is hard to forget how impossibly chic Duran were in the 1980s: from their beginnings in Birmingham (Nick and John, anyway), where they met when Rhodes was 10 and Taylor 12, to a world of famous friends, beautiful partners and exotic travel. Le Bon married Yasmin after seeing her in Vogue, Rhodes was with the shipping heiress Friedman and Taylor the teenage de Cadenet. Andy Warhol was a close friend of Rhodes.

While others were singing about the dark side of Thatcher’s Britain, they were . . . more opaque. “In the 1980s a lot of what we did was somewhat misunderstood because we were living in the same gloomy years with high unemployment and miners’ strikes and civil unrest as everybody else,” Rhodes says. “But our answer to it was we have to get away from this and make it a little brighter because it didn’t seem like a particularly promising future.” Don’t expect that coronavirus torch song any time soon.

Their association with Bond — they wrote the 1985 theme A View to a Kill — only added to the glamour. What do they make of the new one by Billie Eilish? Rhodes admits that he mostly listens to classical music these days but “was thrilled to hear Billie Eilish. I think it’s by far the best Bond song since ours.”

But not better than yours?

“I am very happy that she reached No 1.” Duran’s got to No 2.

Taylor is more critical. “I thought it was lacking in a bit of Billie Eilish to be honest. It could have been madder. It was a little bit too grown up,” he says.

Is it as good as A View to a Kill?

“No!” says Taylor, theatrically. “Although,” he admits, “it was the most difficult three mins that we have ever produced.”

It had a great video, in which the boys slunk around the Eiffel Tower. Taylor frowns. “I hate that video. So stupid. I can’t watch it.” One for the fans, then.

A secret of their longevity, Rhodes says, is not bowing to nostalgia. “I like to keep my blinkers on and look forward.” Having said that, he sounds ready to write his own memoir. “I would do a book yes,” he says. “I haven’t read John’s on purpose. I even wrote a foreword for it for the US version without reading it, but I did own up to it. I think mine would be very different from a lot of the rock biographies. The one that sticks with me is David Niven’s.”

Rhodes featured in Warhol’s diaries and Warhol, the subject of a show at Tate Modern in London that opened this week, would surely feature in his. He “invented the 20th century”, Rhodes says. “Andy was making reality TV in the Sixties. Can you imagine what he would have thought about the internet? It was all his dreams come true, but he would never have got any work done.” Rhodes says he stays off social media for that reason. “It’s not that I don’t like it; I fear it. I am going down a rabbit hole I may never get out of.

They’ve spent twice the time being famous as being unknown. Are they the same people they were in Birmingham 40 years ago?

Rhodes nods. “Yes, yes,” he says. “There have been big changes — marriages, divorces, kids, moving countries in John’s case — but when we are all together we have known each other for so long there is no room for anyone to behave in a way that would be unacceptable. There is no room for divas. We have lasted longer than most marriages; it is like being married to three people but we each get to go home on our own every night.”

Taylor tells me: “Without getting into recovery talk, a lot of that is about scrubbing away the masks that you tend to accrue to cope, so I think I am as close to that person as I was 40 years ago.”

Rhodes says tolerance is the key. “Sometimes when I arrive at the studio it is really bright, maybe someone is writing, and so everyone accepts I can’t cope, and so the lighting comes down.” I tell him I once read he always wears dark glasses before noon. He laughs. “Pretty much. That’s funny. I am hyper-sensitive to light. It’s not just pretentiousness. “

They appreciate they will have to prepare physically for the dates. For Rhodes, a terrible insomniac, that means “fruit and vegetables and grains” and lots of walking. But no workouts (“I am not a big fan of gymnasiums”). Taylor says he needs to start practising bass and the need to get back in shape is “keeping him awake at night”. “I like to run, I do Pilates, I do yoga and I think about everything that enters my mouth, everything. I am 90 per cent vegan. I don’t drink, take mind-altering chemicals. I am on and off sugar.”

Perhaps the greatest sign that they still have it is that their children want to see them play. Taylor just heard from his daughter, Atlanta, who lives in New York and is soon to be married to David Macklovitch from the Canadian band Chromeo.

“It’s a surprise when you get a text from a child and they say, ‘You’re playing Hyde Park — my boyfriend and I want to come.’”

#duran duran #DD40

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noahmanskar · 3 years

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The Best Albums of 2020 (and from the Before Times)

I read a lot of year-end music roundups, and several this year have come with a resonant caveat: It’s been harder to discover new music this year, both because of physical limitations (no shows, no record-store browsing, no chats with friends about your latest finds), and because the way we used music fundamentally changed. It certainly did for me. Rather than serving as the backdrop for a commute or a night out, it created moments of solace from cabin fever while doing dishes, or showering, or running semi-weekly errands. So I often turned to what was comfortable and familiar, songs that conjured memories and feelings to get me through the day. Even on the rare occasions of social listening, the groups I was with drifted into nostalgia — middle school dance tracks, mid-2000s emo, inherited dad rock, even songs from just a year or two ago, when everything was simpler, relatively speaking.

That’s not to say nothing new moved me. There was a handful of albums and songs that were crucial to getting through the doldrums. They soundtracked bike rides, long walks, longer drives and lots of small moments mentioned above. But I don’t think I can think about my favorite music of this year without thinking about the albums of the past that got me through it. Besides, one of the many lessons 2020 taught is that time is a bizarre illusion anyway. (This exercise also lets me write about some recent albums that I didn’t get to write about when they were actually released.

So here are the albums, past and present, that made 2020 bearable. I hope you found yours, too.

Tame Impala, “The Slow Rush”

Tame Impala’s fourth LP came out on Valentine’s Day. That afternoon, Claire and I had a lunch date to mark the occasion before we got on a plane to visit my parents. The night before, we had gone out to dinner with friends visiting from San Francisco and then to a bar, where we huddled next to strangers on a water bed. Roughly a month later, all of this would be unimaginable, and Kevin Parker’s lyrics to “One More Year” would be eerily prescient as we settled into this new normal:

But now I worry our horizon's been nothing new 'Cause I get this feeling and maybe you get it too We're on a rollercoaster stuck on its loop-de-loop 'Cause what we did one day on a whim Has slowly become all we do

The song is really about surrendering to time, and not worrying about it passing in spite of your ambivalence. The opening chants of Parker’s “Gregorian Robot Choir” make it easy to surrender. They carry you into a world where, as the cover art suggests, all that time you were worrying about has already passed, so you might as well dance. At the same time, the songs that follow, like “Borderline,” “Breathe Deeper” and “Lost In Yesterday” make it easy to remember what it was like to dance in a sweaty room with people you love, and to look forward to doing it again, after a little more time passes.

Fleet Foxes, “Shore”

There’s something comforting about the fact that Fleet Foxes released this record on the exact moment of the autumnal equinox. It’s a reminder that nature has its own rhythms that carry on regardless of what occurs in our human lives. They give us a measure of certainty in uncertain times. One of these rhythms — death — looms large in “Sunblind,” an ode to Robin Pecknold’s departed musical forebears: David Berman, Bill Withers, John Prine and others. This song exuding calm acceptance shifts into “Can I Believe You,” which wrestles frankly with doubt and fear.

These tracks contain profound contradictions, but sonically, they're both bright, hopeful and sure. That’s what made this album such a balm in the sixth month of this pandemic, a time of both growing darkness and hope for what might be on the other side. It reminds us that there’s power and beauty in feeling all these things at once.

Lil Uzi Vert, “Eternal Atake”

This one spent two years in label purgatory, but it finally arrived in March to prove Lil Uzi Vert can do it all. He’s at his most versatile here, spitting and crooning, boasting and balladeering. “You Better Move” is an early standout packed with playful nostalgia, including a beat that samples that classic PC pinball game and delightful jabs like these:

Yeah, step on competition, changin' my shoes Green shirt, bitch, I'm Steve, where is Blue? Every chain on, I pity a fool I'm an iPod, man, you more like a Zune Made her eat on my dick with a spoon, ew Versace drawers, bitch, you Fruit of the Loom

Then there are the melodic tracks like “Urgency,” which compel you to hum along even on the first listen. The excellent diversity made it worth the wait for this hourlong journey to another planet.

Sturgill Simpson, “Cuttin’ Grass Vol. 1: The Butcher Shoppe Sessions”

I haven’t spent much time with Sturgill Simpson outside of 2014′s “Metamodern Sounds in Country Music,” and I can’t say I’ve ever listened to another bluegrass album all the way through. But these new cuts of songs picked from Simpson’s catalog are wonderfully enticing. Simpson puts the talents of his backing band front and center, and their harmonies and rhythms illuminate his vivd songwriting in new ways. It was a great introduction to the genre for me.

Fiona Apple, “Fetch The Bolt Cutters”

I got here after the hype, after the perfect 10, after all the year-end number-ones. Fiona Apple lives up to all of it. Her compositions are complex and evocative, the lyrics tender and biting at once. Her artistry is unsparing. The chorus to the title track is already getting stuck in my head, and I can’t wait to spend more time with this one.

Bea Troxel, “The Way That It Feels” (2017)

Almost a decade has passed since I first saw Bea Troxel play. She was in an incredibly talented trio with two of my high school classmates: Maeve Thorne (who has an entrancing solo EP of her own), and Rita Pfeiffer (the violinist on this record). They ended up winning my school’s battle of the bands, and I got to interview them for the student newspaper. Shortly after our senior year, they recorded an album that still outshines most of today’s indie folk. So I jumped at the chance to all three of them again in Brooklyn.

Troxel’s performance in particular was a revelation. I won’t ever forget how I fell into a trance as she picked away at “Talc,” which exemplifies her gift for natural metaphor. I haven’t stopped playing her record since, and it’s been a constant comfort throughout this year. Her voice is one of a kind, her songwriting is rich, and the compositions flow together beautifully. I can’t wait for more; in the meantime, “The Way That It Feels” will be on repeat.

Travis Scott, “Birds In The Trap Sing McKnight” (2016)

There’s been much ado about the brilliance of “Astroworld,” Travis Scott’s magnum opus, but I have a soft spot for his sophomore LP, where he reached the peak of the spare and heavy sound that started to take shape on “Owl Pharaoh.” There are plenty of sonic layers here, and the ordering of the tracks is a craft in itself — a series of peaks and valleys that glides from the haze of “beibs in the trap” to the climax of “goosebumps” and then into the cool waters of “pick up the phone.” It feels like Scott is guiding you to and from these destinations. The journey is, as The Weeknd might put it, “wonderful.”

Harmonium, “Harmonium” (1974)

One of my pandemic binges was “Letterkenny,” the sharp Ontario-set sitcom with top-notch banter and a great soundtrack full of indie hits and Canadian deep cuts. The fight scenes are elegantly choreographed, but so are the handful of sequences at the end of key episodes that reveal the show’s emotional bedrock. One such scene is set to Harmonium’s “Un musicien parmi tant d'autres” — the main characters are reveling in a bar with their Québécois pals, whom they’ve just helped beat up a rival group. As the song builds to its climactic chorus, leading man Wayne, surrounded by couples, realizes his longing for companionship. Another fight breaks out, but instead of joining in, Wayne makes his way through the slow-motion fray toward the woman he’ll propose to in the next season. (Their relationship later falls apart, but that doesn’t undercut this scene’s beauty.)

This is probably the first foreign-language album I’ve listened to in full, but all of it evokes that feeling for me — the joy of walking through the chaos to reach what’s really important. Not a bad sentiment for these times.

Bon Iver, “22, A Million”

To talk about this weird, dark and brilliant album, I need to talk about “715 - CR∑∑KS.” Everyone I’ve talked to about the third track on “22, A Million” either loves it or can’t stand it. I’m devoted to it to the extent that it was my most-played song on Spotify this year. It oscillates between tenderness and fear, between silence and explosions of sound. The lyrics are an epitome of Justin Vernon’s cryptic poetry. It’s isolated and spare and enthralling and beautiful in its own bizarre way — just like the rest of the album, which is rich with themes of persevering through the darkness in spite of the uncertainty about when the light will appear. Vernon is alone on “CR∑∑KS,” but he’s accompanied by a cacophony of his own voice. As alone as we might feel right now, there’s always someone else shouting through the darkness with us, even if we can’t see them.

#music #2020 #bon iver #harmonium #bea troxel #travis scott #lil uzi vert #sturgill simpson #fiona apple #fleet foxes #tame impala

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artificialqueens · 6 years

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Star Power Over Me - Part Two (Vixie/Trixya) - Pilandok

AN: Okay a few things: 1) part two ended up being much longer than I thought so I halfed it. 2) Katya isn’t here yet (kinda) but she will appear. 3) First time writing drag race fanfiction, experimenting w/ pronouns– ended up writing them as he out of drag and she in drag so it changes, whatever. 4) Smut-ish again? I don’t know why this keeps happening. 5) All lyrics that aren’t “Star Power” by Sonic Youth are mine. Thank you for reading.

Part One.

Trixie is surprisingly casual about everything. Violet was half-expecting that when the alcohol has seeped out of their system, Trixie was going to start freaking out about their morally dubious actions. Unexpectedly, however, and Violet wakes up to an empty bed and a note on the table.

Early flight today, sorry I can’t hang. Love you bitch. Xoxo T.

His handwriting is a lot less legible than Violet expected it to be. After reading the note, he takes a moment to gather his things before starting his journey back to his own hotel room. Practically stumbling out of the door, Violet isn’t exactly hung over, it’s just that he’s not a morning person at all; he prefers to start functioning at noon. He spots Trixie in the hallway, a few paces from the door, talking on the phone. For his part, Trixie doesn’t look hungover at all, not even a little tired.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m about to leave, yeah. I’ll be there on time, don’t worry.” Trixie looks up and sees Violet and smiles, he makes a gesture with his hand, telling Violet to wait for him. Violet nods groggily, rubbing his eyes. He waits for Trixie to finish his call but he isn’t sure exactly why or what for. The time of his phone reads 8:13 AM.

“Hey sorry,” Trixie apologizes when he walks over to Violet, “I have an early flight.”

“Mhm,” Violet answers, still not fully aware of his surroundings. Trixie appears to be amused at this.

“Here,” Trixie hands him his half-finished cup of coffee, “I drank some already but it’s still warm and you look like you could use some.”

Violet accepts the cup from Trixie and takes a sip. It seems to take effect immediately and he wakes up little. He stares at Trixie and wonders what he should say.

“Have a good flight,” he settles.

“I will. Go get some rest already, you look like you really need it,” Trixie says playfully.

“Don’t be rude,” Violet grumbles. Trixie laughs and leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

“See you, bitch.” Trixie leaves for the elevator down the hall and Violet watches him until he turns the corner. Violet then continues his trek back to his room, calculating how many hours of sleep he can get before he has to get ready to leave.

—

After the incident, Trixie and Violet haven’t given much thought to the night they shared together, chalking it up as another weird incident in the string of bizarre events that is a drag queen’s life. Stranger things have happened. And of the sexual encounters they’ve had, this one wasn’t half bad. It was pretty good, in fact, a lot better than they imagined. Their relationship with each other hasn’t changed, however, rarely communicating aside from the occasional interaction on social media. Weeks pass and Trixie and Violet have all but forgotten about that night. It wasn’t until a month later that Trixie and Violet see each other again. It was on a Drag Race night in a club in LA, which means they’ve booked a few Ru girls along with usual array of local queens, hoping to get more traction in their scene.

Trixie and Violet have finished their number and are in the dressing room, waiting for the call to do the meet and greets. The club provided them with cocktails and both queens accepted them graciously, situating themselves on the couch in the dressing room with their legs tucked underneath them a la Untucked. They spend the first few minutes reenacting iconic incidents from the series before falling into an easy conversation teetering towards flirtation. Halfway through the drinks, Trixie realizes that they have been unconsciously closing the gap between them with every burst of laughter and the lingering of an innocent touch. The other queens weaving in and out of the dressing room eyes them with tepid suspicion and Trixie’s not sure if she has been noticing this, choosing ultimately to brush off the stares. Violet appears to be completely oblivious and swings her legs over Trixie’s lap.

“I think one of your balls is about to pop out,” Trixie comments, pretending to take a peek.

Violet slaps her shoulder lightly, “Nothing you haven’t put in your mouth before, bitch.”

“Don’t be gross,” Trixie answers, her screaming laughter echoing in the dressing room.

“Oh my god can’t you laugh like a normal person? You, your psycho scream is fucking— “

Violet is interrupted by a loud creak of the door. “Well well well, who do we have here?” Jinkx interrupts having just entered the room. She closes the door behind her slowly. “Why, isn’t it RuPaul’s Drag Race season 7 winner Violet Chachki,” she takes a small bow towards Violet then turns to Trixie, “… and All Stars 3 winner, I suppose?”

Trixie smiles meaningfully and shakes her head, not giving anything away.

“Aww, not even a tiny hint?” Jinkx pouts.

Trixie tilts her head slightly in mock-consideration, “Well…”

“Ahh! Don’t tell me,” Violet presses her hands over her ears, “No spoilers!”

“Sorry, Jinkx,” Trixie smiles at her apologetically, “you heard the lady.”

“Boo,” she answered, plopping herself down beside the pair on the couch. She pulls out a joint and a lighter from her bra which Trixie and Violet watches with wonderment. She winks at them before lighting the joint and taking a long drag from it. She offers it to them.

“No thank you,” Trixie declines.

Violet takes up the offer, however, and inhales deeply, looking straight at Trixie. She holds the smoke in for an extra moment before parting her lips slightly to let the smoke ascend on its own. Trixie doesn’t look away. Violet hands the blunt to Trixie who looks at it warily and sighs, takes a hit of her own.

Jinkx observes this interaction with great interest. When she’s handed back the joint, she holds it between her middle and index finger like a cigarette. “The youth… is wasted on the young,” she begins dramatically, “oh why must the universe inflict upon us such cruel ironies? When I see you two young, beautiful ladies,” she continues, turning to the pair, “flirting without consequence, the bubbling sexual tension not a premonition for troubles to come… oh to be young! If only this aging carafe can receive a taste of young flesh once more.” She lets the dramatic silence fall over all of them.

“Jinkx, you’re like two years older than me,” Trixie deadpans. Jinkx begins to stage-weep melodramatically. Violet looks at her, perplexed, Trixie tells her, “forget it, once she gets into character, we can’t do anything about it.”

“Time, the merciless mother of us all!” she starts again. “Only a kiss from the fountain of youth can bring these—”

“Jinkx.”

“—these wasted, decrepit, rickety bones— “

“Jinkx Monsoon.”

“—moldy, sagging, sinewy, discolored, putrid, decomposing—”

“Jinkx!”

“—only a— mmph”

Suddenly, Violet reaches over to grab Jinkx’ face and pulls her into a firm kiss.

“Oh my,” Jinkx reacts afterwards, she widens her eyes comically and covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers. She and Violet look at Trixie expectantly.

“Oh fuck it,” Trixie says then gives Jinkx a kiss too.

Jinkx burst into a maniacal cackle, “you fools!” Jinkx stands up and walks slowly around the room, “you’ve let me absorb your energy, I now have the power!”

Trixie and Violet roll their eyes, amused by Jinkx’s antics. They hear someone call them for the meet and greet and Trixie gets up to leave, she reaches out her hand to Violet she takes it. Jinkx is still in the middle of her spectacle and the two drag queens giggle at her as they exit the dressing room hand in hand.

The meet and greet is over soon enough and Trixie offers Violet a place to stay for the night. Both of them leave the club in full drag. Arriving at her apartment, Trixie heads straight to the shower, leaving Violet to pace awkwardly around her room. It isn’t a lot different from the other LA queens’ bedrooms, she notes, sparsely furnished, and still looking a little brand new. Various drag paraphernalia litters the room following a trail leading to what Violet guesses is a walk-in closet. The room also houses a few guitars and other unfamiliar folk instruments; on a table, sheets of papers are strewn with Trixie’s familiar handwriting. Violet makes an attempt to read them but the writing is even more illegible than before, but from what she can discern, Trixie is writing some new songs. The instruments along with the bright pink walls of the room makes Violet feel like she’s inside her Trixie brain, where both Trixie and Brian have learned to coexist.

Violet hears Trixie start singing in the shower.

“Work, work… mm… I am a professional, work…” she recognizes Shangela’s song and tries not to think too deeply if this counts as a spoiler. She walks towards the bathroom door and finds it unlocked. She lets herself in as Trixie switches to singing an unfamiliar folk song.

“Trixie,” she calls.

Trixie stops singing to respond, “Vi? Need anything?”

Violet doesn’t say anything, instead she removes the pink silk robe that Trixie lent her to cover up her usual burlesque drag. She has her own clothes but in the club Trixie and everyone else laughed at seeing her wear their robe because oh wow, baby pink does not suit you at all. You look like a grandma prostitute.Violet decided to humor them and kept it on. She hangs the robe on the hook then takes off her heels, stockings, corset, and the rest of her lingerie and lays it down carefully beside the sink. She pulls the shower curtain to the side and Trixie jumps in surprise, she was in the process of lathering her face with make-up remover.

“Jesus Christ. I’ve seen Psycho, Violet,” Trixie says then proceeds to rub her face.

“I’m not the one with the mug looking like a melting clown, bitch.”

Trixie lifts a middle finger to her and steps to the side, giving Violet space to climb in. Trixie turns on the shower to rinse her face. Violet borrows the make-up remover and starts working on her face.

“Fuck, bitch, are you trying to boil your skin off?” Violet comments at the temperature of the water. Trixie aims the showerhead at Violet and she squeals, cursing at Trixie who chuckles but turns the heat down. “Shit, I got some on my eye.” Violet reaches blindly for water and Trixie hands it to her so she can wash her face. Trixie eyes the water travelling on Violet’s body; from it splashing onto her face, sliding down to her chest, and falling between her legs. When Violet opens her eyes she sees Trixie, now completely make-up-free, looking at her with that same smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re so skinny,” he remarks.

“What?”

“Pretty and skinny.”

“What?”

“So pretty,” Trixie breathes.

Before he can say anything, Trixie pushes him against the wall and starts kissing him. Violet recoils against the cool tiles of the bathroom but pulls Trixie closer to him, responding hurriedly. He’s surprised at Trixie’s erection rubbing against his leg and it stimulates his own budding one. Trixie’s hands slide down from his neck, scratch his chest, and trace down his stomach. One wraps around Violet’s cock and begins tugging slightly, the other follows the shape of his ass and teases his asshole. Violet groans and pushes Trixie off. Trixie is horrified for a second, ready to race to an apology when Violet turns around and presses his ass against Trixie’s dick. Trixie feels a fire ignite in his gut, seeing Violet bent over in front of him, both hands on the wall to hold himself steady.

“Say it again,” Violet says tensely.

For a moment, Trixie is confused, but then a pleased grin slowly spreads on his face. He leans in to whisper, “you’re so skinny and you look so pretty.” He angles the tip of his penis against Violet’s entrance and hears Violet whimper. The sound sends pulses of pleasure to his erection. He gives himself a moment to be impressed by the animalistic desire that Violet Chachki’s whimpering ignites in him before leaning in again. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, pushing his cock inside.

—

Later that night, Violet, asleep on Trixie’s bed, stirs awake to the sound of a guitar being played. He squints and sees Trixie on the other side of the room hunched over the table, writing fervently with a guitar on his lap. He strums the guitar again.

“You ain’t quite the Barbie/ but you’re such a doll/ Should I spoil myself with sweets? / I’ve never had the gall / to be having this much fun/ am I allowed to jump the gun? —no,” Trixie stops abruptly and scratches on the paper, “not right,” he mumbles. He plays a different chord with the last line.

“Sounds better,” Violet remarks. Trixie flinches in surprise and turns around. Violet can see him blushing slightly at having been caught. “Are you writing a song about me?” he teases, half-asleep.

“Oh, uh…” Trixie stutters nervously. Violet smiles.

“Come here,” Violet instructs, yawning, “play me something.” Trixie carries his guitar over to the bed and sits cross-legged on the mattress. Violet turns to the side and watches Trixie. “You look butch.”

“Bitch,” Trixie replies automatically and plays a few test chords.

“No country, please.”

Trixie looks slightly offended. “But all my songs are country.”

Violet shrugs in response, “then play something that isn’t yours.”

Trixie huffs, “fine.” He pauses for a moment to think then starts plucking a few tabs on his guitar. Violet hums in approval. Trixie begins to sing.

“Spinning dreams with angel wings

Torn blue jeans, foolish grin

Burning down in the night

So cool, so right

Star power, star power

Star power over me

She knows how to make love to me

She knows how to make love…”

Violet begins to drift off to sleep, the soft guitar echoing in the room.

“Close my eyes and think of you

Everything is black and blue…”

Trixie’s voice is heavy, leaden with something Violet doesn’t pick up on. But it makes him dream a blur of visions—of blonde Russian acrobats, bleached white teeth, and cigarettes on red lips.

Tags - Trixie Mattel, Violet Chachki, Vixie, Trixya, light angst, foreboding fluff, non au, smut, pilandok

vStar Power Over Me - Part Two (Vixie/Trixya) - Pilandok

Part One.

Early flight today, sorry I can’t hang. Love you bitch. Xoxo T.

“Hey sorry,” Trixie apologizes when he walks over to Violet, “I have an early flight.”

“Mhm,” Violet answers, still not fully aware of his surroundings. Trixie appears to be amused at this.

“Here,” Trixie hands him his half-finished cup of coffee, “I drank some already but it’s still warm and you look like you could use some.”

Violet accepts the cup from Trixie and takes a sip. It seems to take effect immediately and he wakes up little. He stares at Trixie and wonders what he should say.

“Have a good flight,” he settles.

“I will. Go get some rest already, you look like you really need it,” Trixie says playfully.

“Don’t be rude,” Violet grumbles. Trixie laughs and leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

—

“I think one of your balls is about to pop out,” Trixie comments, pretending to take a peek.

Violet slaps her shoulder lightly, “Nothing you haven’t put in your mouth before, bitch.”

“Don’t be gross,” Trixie answers, her screaming laughter echoing in the dressing room.

“Oh my god can’t you laugh like a normal person? You, your psycho scream is fucking— “

Trixie smiles meaningfully and shakes her head, not giving anything away.

“Aww, not even a tiny hint?” Jinkx pouts.

Trixie tilts her head slightly in mock-consideration, “Well…”

“Ahh! Don’t tell me,” Violet presses her hands over her ears, “No spoilers!”

“Sorry, Jinkx,” Trixie smiles at her apologetically, “you heard the lady.”

“No thank you,” Trixie declines.

“Time, the merciless mother of us all!” she starts again. “Only a kiss from the fountain of youth can bring these—”

“Jinkx.”

“—these wasted, decrepit, rickety bones— “

“Jinkx Monsoon.”

“—moldy, sagging, sinewy, discolored, putrid, decomposing—”

“Jinkx!”

“—only a— mmph”

Suddenly, Violet reaches over to grab Jinkx’ face and pulls her into a firm kiss.

“Oh my,” Jinkx reacts afterwards, she widens her eyes comically and covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers. She and Violet look at Trixie expectantly.

“Oh fuck it,” Trixie says then gives Jinkx a kiss too.

Jinkx burst into a maniacal cackle, “you fools!” Jinkx stands up and walks slowly around the room, “you’ve let me absorb your energy, I now have the power!”

Violet hears Trixie start singing in the shower.

“Trixie,” she calls.

Trixie stops singing to respond, “Vi? Need anything?”

“Jesus Christ. I’ve seen Psycho, Violet,” Trixie says then proceeds to rub her face.

“I’m not the one with the mug looking like a melting clown, bitch.”

“You’re so skinny,” he remarks.

“What?”

“Pretty and skinny.”

“What?”

“So pretty,” Trixie breathes.

“Say it again,” Violet says tensely.

—

“Oh, uh…” Trixie stutters nervously. Violet smiles.

“Bitch,” Trixie replies automatically and plays a few test chords.

“No country, please.”

Trixie looks slightly offended. “But all my songs are country.”

Violet shrugs in response, “then play something that isn’t yours.”

Trixie huffs, “fine.” He pauses for a moment to think then starts plucking a few tabs on his guitar. Violet hums in approval. Trixie begins to sing.

“Spinning dreams with angel wings

Torn blue jeans, foolish grin

Burning down in the night

So cool, so right

Star power, star power

Star power over me

She knows how to make love to me

She knows how to make love…”

Violet begins to drift off to sleep, the soft guitar echoing in the room.

“Close my eyes and think of you

Everything is black and blue…”

Trixie’s voice is heavy, leaden with something Violet doesn’t pick up on. But it makes him dream a blur of visions—of blonde Russian acrobats, bleached white teeth, and cigarettes on red lips.

#trixie mattel #violet chachki #vixie #trixya #light angst #foreboding fluff #smut #pilandok #rpdr fanfiction #star power over me #canon compliant

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razieltwelve · 3 years

Text

Polarity Shift (Final Rose)

Pyrrha was not someone who got angry easily. Indeed, more than one person had remarked over the years that she was too nice for her own good. However, trying to sneak into her house to murder her family was not something she could simply overlook. It was only thanks to Fluffy that they’d been alerted to the danger. The ornery cat had paid a steep price for raising the alarm, but Fraise had seen to his injuries.

The would-be assassins had been dealt with without any further injury to her family. However, that could not be the end of it. These elite remnants of the White Fang needed to be wiped out, and Pyrrha intended to see to the matter personally.

“Ma’am.” The Vale soldier inclined his head. “We’re just about ready to go.”

Pyrrha nodded back. “Thank you.” Her gaze drifted to the supposedly deserted warehouses near an abandoned area of the docks. In truth, the decaying buildings hid an elaborate network of tunnels and chambers that had allowed these remnants of the White Fang to setup a makeshift fortress. “And the intel?”

“Intel has confirmed that all individuals on the premises are to be treated as combatants. We are fully authorised to use lethal force.”:

“Understood.” Pyrrha got to her feet. Her Aura seethed beneath her skin. “Tell the others to get into position. I’ll flush them out. Be ready to catch any stragglers.”

As the soldiers, special forces, and other hunters moved into position, Pyrrha reached out with her senses. Her own sense of fair play had led people to underestimate her Semblance. She rarely used it to do more than deflect the occasional projectile during sparring matches since using her Semblance to its full extent would simply end most sparring matches on the spot. Here, though, there was no need to hold back.

“Ma’am.” A nearby soldier gave her the all clear. “All units are in position. Waiting on you.”

“Good.” Pyrrha allowed her Aura to flare as she loosened the reins on her Semblance. “Commencing attack.”

X X X

Step 1: Cut off avenues of escape.

The weapons most people wielded were made of metal. It was simply the easiest way to do things. However, her Semblance allowed her to feel every single piece of metal within her range, and her range was very, very large. Locating the White Fang members was easy. They were almost all concentrated in three areas.

Surrounding those areas was an elaborate network of escape tunnels. To ensure those tunnels could survive bombardment from standard munitions, the White Fang had used reinforced concrete. Her lips curled. It was so easy to forget since the exterior looked like regular concrete, but reinforced concrete used a steel skeleton to increase its strength.

Her Semblance had no problems whatsoever in affecting steel.

Pyrrha extended one hand and clenched her fist. Simultaneously, more than a dozen tunnels collapsed in on themselves. Her lips curled as she felt the White Fang member beginning to mill around in confusion as the sound of the collapsing tunnels filtered back up through the passageways.

“Do not engage yet,” Pyrrha warned. “They’ll try to fight their way out.”

Sure enough, the White Fang soon realised they were under attack. The earpiece she wore relayed their locations and numbers, and she turned her attention toward the mechs the White Fang had somehow managed to get their hands on. She’d have to let Jihl know. The older woman would not be pleased that terrorists had gotten their hands on current-generation Atlas military technology.

One of the buildings at the edges of the area exploded, and half a dozen mechs rumbled out. Each was roughly the size of a house and absolutely bristling with weaponry. A cursory examination with her Semblance located several auto cannons, a pair of heavy lasers, and a quartet of missile launchers, along with various melee weapons.

Pyrrha watched the mechs charge toward her. They must have forgotten who they were dealing with because only an idiot would have tried to rush her in something made of metal.

Once again, Pyrrha extended one hand, and once again, she clenched it into a fist.

The six mechs, each the size of a house, were instantly crushed into spheres of metal roughly a yard in diameter. Naturally, whoever happened to be piloting them was instantly killed. Their onboard weapons detonated, but her Semblance had no problem forcing the spheres of metal to keep their shape and size.

Several gunships - how had they gotten those? - took to the air, and Pyrrha flicked her hand at them in an almost careless gesture. The closest sphere of metal split into four identical spheres that lanced up into the sky at several times the speed of sound. The resulting sonic boom washed over her as the gunships came apart in clouds of fire and metal.

“You’ve got fire incoming, ma’am.”

Pyrrha acknowledged the warning with a murmur of thanks. The White Fang had deployed dozens of members into the buildings around her. Within moments, they were opening fire, thousands of rounds pouring down on her. Pyrrha used her Semblance to form a sphere of metal around herself before launching the remains pieces of metal into the buildings.

In less than thirty seconds, every White Fang member who’d opened fire on her was dead. Allowing the sphere of metal to recede, she took note of the remaining White Fang members bunkering up underground in their strongholds. Trying to breach those strongholds could take hours while almost certainly costing them lives.

That was unacceptable.

Pyrrha shot up into the air, using her Semblance to carry herself up via the armour she wore. A handful of missiles and some scattered gunfire crackled up at her, but she batted the attacks aside with contemptuous ease. If they were so determined to stay underground, she’d just have to deal with them.

For a split-second, her brows furrowed as she seized control of all the rebar in the walls of those underground bunkers. With a slow, steady movement, she raised her arms into the air. The ground beneath her shook, and her Semblance sang, a wild, joyous cry, as she loosened her hold on it even more.

Those strongholds each weighed tens of thousands of tonnes. In her younger days, she might have struggled to lift so much alone. Not anymore. Now, she had the power to lift the components of an entire bridge without breaking a sweat and the control to put it together. A task like this that relied more on brute strength than precision was actually easier. All she had to do was grab hold of the metal she could and pull.

She’d lifted cruise ships with her Semblance, and those could weigh hundreds of thousands of tonnes. These strongholds were heavy but not even close to that.

The ground split, and she yanked the strongholds out into the open. A sharp slashing motion ripped them apart, concrete and rebar flying every which way as they split open like cracked eggs. The horrified members of the White Fang found themselves tumbling to the ground as Pyrrha’s allies rushed in to take advantage of the situation.

One of the braver White Fang members tried to point a grenade launcher at her. Pyrrha dropped a corner of the stronghold on him. Needless to say, he did not survive being crushed under several hundred tonnes of rubble.

“Anyone else?” Pyrrha asked, chunks of metal-reinforced concrete floating overhead. “I’d be more than happy to kill all of you, but I’ve been asked to give you a chance to surrender. Someone wants to talk to you.” The fact that Jihl and Jahne would be leading the interrogations of any White Fang they captured was the only reason she hadn’t simply turned the strongholds into tombs.

X X X

“So...” Jaune asked. “How did it go?”

Pyrrha smiled at her husband. “Quite well, actually. I’m told that we were able to capture several valuable personnel. You?”

Jaune shrugged. “You’re lucky. You got to go after the the guys on land. The group I was after was holed up on a salvaged submarine. We still don’t know how they got it, but it was a major pain to capture it, but we got the job done.”

“Oh?”

“We caught them as they were resupplying via an unregistered cargo vessel. We hit them hard and fast, and they didn’t have time to submerge again. Even if they did, we tagged the sub, so we’d have been able to catch it without much of a fight.”

“Hmm...” Pyrrha’s brows furrowed. “It might have been better if we’d switched places.”

“The guys you were fighting were pretty dug in, right?” Pyrrha nodded, and Jaune grinned. “Well, it was probably better you were there then. The guys we hit were too surprised to fight back properly.”

“Hopefully, this puts an end to it,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“If not, we’ll deal with it.” Jaune put one arm around her. “So... pizza tonight?”

“Yes.” Pyrrha grinned. “I don’t think either of us feels like cooking tonight, and the kids definitely won’t mind.” She paused. “We’ll have to pick up something nice for Fluffy too.”

“Yeah. He might be an angry little guy, but he definitely proved himself. How about mackerel? It’s been a while since he’s had some, and I remember him trying to sneak all of the mackerel out of Professor Dia’s basket the last time we went fishing with her.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

People tend to forget that as nice as she is, Pyrrha is easily the most powerful member of her team and powerful and skilled enough that when Pyrrha got serious and used her Semblance in earnest during the tournament at Beacon, Averia was forced to use her own Semblance to keep up. Don’t mess with her.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

#final rose #fanfiction #pyrrha nikos #jaune arc

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flauntpage · 5 years

Text

The Outlet Pass: The NBA's Most Depressing 'Choose Your Own Adventure' Team

Luke Kennard is Detroit’s Last Hope

Since they defeated the Golden State Warriors on December 1, the only teams with a higher losing percentage than the Detroit Pistons are the New York Knicks, Chicago Bulls, and Cleveland Cavaliers. They’re 6-17 with a point differential that makes the Phoenix Suns feel good about themselves, and their present and future feels tinted by a Bandersnatch-ian hue. This isn’t the franchise to play Choose Your Own Adventure with. Everything is bleak, filled with immense frustration and suffering.

Scene 1: Dwane Casey sits at his office desk when Tom Gores knocks on the door and tell him that Stanley Johnson should play at least 35 minutes every night.

Option 1: Casey silently nods his head and then starts to cry under his desk after Gores walks away.

Option 2: He picks up a freshly poured cup of coffee and dumps it on his lap.

Scene 2: Five minutes after a diehard Pistons fan decides to renew their season tickets, Andre Drummond starts a Twitter thread that outlines why he should get more post touches.

Option 1: The fan throws their phone at the ground and stomps on it until their foot hurts.

Option 2: The fan quietly stares out the window, spends five minutes pondering the human condition, and then renounces God.

Last night’s meaningful win over the Orlando Magic notwithstanding, little beyond the fact that Blake Griffin will make the All-Star team is pleasant right now. The Pistons have no cap space this summer, Reggie Jackson looks like he was recently buried in Pet Semetary, and Drummond is shooting below 50 percent. Apart from praying they strike gold in this year’s draft, Luke Kennard, an under-utilized off guard, represents their only source of hope. This isn’t what any Pistons fan wants to hear, but it’s about time Casey sticks with his sophomore and turns a blind eye to all the frustrating tendencies that frequently upset him and his staff.

Kennard’s skill-set makes him an intriguing, helpful prospect. But confidence issues appear to dog him. Whenever he passes up an open shot—something that’s happening less and less but still happens more than it should—an angel loses its wings and a week slices off Casey’s life.

He’s not always that shy (Kennard is starting to automatically pull up whenever his man ducks under a screen or sags a few feet back), but those moments are as brutal as they are strange. Kennard is a really good shooter! He’s crafty off the dribble and plays with unteachable awareness. The Pistons are +8.0 when he shares the floor with Griffin and Drummond—which rarely happens.

And—as one of his only stats better than last year—he’s finishing at the rim. The volume is low, and Kennard will never be known for his explosiveness, but the man knows how to navigate off the ball and really loves his pivot foot.

Maybe it’s me being a total sucker for sweet-shooting southpaws, but I firmly believe Kennard can be a secondary playmaker on a good team. Until then, the Pistons should give him an opportunity to fill that role. What other options do they have?

Donovan Mitchell (Finally) Looks Like an All-Star

Donovan Mitchell wasn’t bad until a couple weeks ago, but he didn’t pick up where he left off, either. Instead, at 22, he was an inefficient primary option on a team that was struggling to reach the high yet reasonable expectations that entirely depended on Mitchell making a natural step forward.

In December, his True Shooting percentage was 47.3, and the Utah Jazz were never better on offense than when he sat. (Between November 1 and the new year, he only made 27.3 percent of his threes while jacking up 6.6 per game. Bad!) But—cross your fingers Jazz fans—that slump appears to be over, as Mitchell has recently looked like an awesome albeit unsustainable slaughterhouse. He just won his first Player of the Week award (with Ricky Rubio out of the lineup), and has been unguardable at all three levels. Over his last ten games, Mitchell is averaging 26 points, five assists, and four boards on 45.6/41.4/84.3 shooting splits.

Mitchell still struggles to finish at the rim, in part because he’s one of the boldest and most inventive 22-year-olds you’ll ever see. He’s also unconventional, someone who likes to slow down as he nears the basket or hop off the wrong foot in an attempt to offset a shot-blocker’s timing. But given his strength, insane athleticism (let us never forget that he won the Slam Dunk Contest as a rookie, wearing a Vince Carter Raptors jersey), and ability to change speeds whenever he wants, these feel like habits he’ll eventually overcome. Most of his misses are the result of him feeling a real burden to score. They’re attempted against well-positioned defenders that have help, and shouldn’t be tried in the first place.

For every time he makes you feel like someone slipped LSD in your morning coffee...

...Mitchell belches out something like this:

But that’s all fine. Whenever he high-steps into the paint with the ball extended out and over his head, good things usually happen. And numbers aside, how many players can inject adrenaline straight into your veins with more force than Mitchell at his apex? He’s a sonic boom. The one-handed tomahawk he recently unleashed on JaVale McGee’s forehead was spine-tinglingly R-rated; the basketball equivalent to that time Bart almost killed his father and exploded his house.

It was also a prideful declaration: My sophomore slump just evaporated. Also: I’m an All-Star. Mitchell won’t make 44 percent of his pull-up threes the rest of the year (as he recently has been), but that shot's potential centripetal force can have a real impact on a defense.

Right now, defenders still duck under screens and dare him to pull the trigger. They’d rather see that than a lob to Rudy Gobert or Derrick Favors, or for Mitchell to pirouette into the paint and then kick out to Joe Ingles, Kyle Korver, or Jae Crowder for an open three. But the equation changes if he keeps making them at a high rate. And the tighter defenses play him, the better chance he has to blow by and wreak havoc at the rim.

Over the last 10 games, no player is averaging more shots from drives than Mitchell. And as a general rule of thumb, anyone whose launch pad sits between the free-throw line and dotted circle is awesome:

When conducting a pick-and-roll, Mitchell combines Kemba Walker’s slipperiness with the swift strength of a boxer. He loves rejecting his screen with a filthy crossover, skiing downhill, then changing speeds on a big man who suddenly wishes he could crawl into a hole and wait for the storm to pass.

Utah’s offense has not been good this year with Mitchell running point, and going back to last season they were less efficient when Rubio didn’t play and Mitchell did. But—even though he’s fine operating off the ball, punching off a pin-down or blowing by a hard closeout that was created by his teammate’s slash-and-kick—sometimes it still feels like Rubio is a pair of training wheels stuck to the franchise player. Zero disrespect to someone who consistently makes his team better, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if Utah didn’t feel much pressure to re-sign Rubio this summer. Accentuating Mitchell as their dynamic primary playmaker, with Gobert at the five and a slew of two-way snipers up and down the roster feels like a pretty good plan.

(To counter my own point, a steady diet of high pick-and-rolls is a polite request for inefficiency in today’s NBA, and even though Mitchell is unstoppable executing them in crunch time, he’ll need to attack in myriad ways over the next few years to reach his true offensive ceiling.)

In the meantime, Mitchell’s All-Star case is far from bulletproof. His slow start will be really hard to overcome—both statistically and in the mind of most voters—and the Western Conference remains a boneyard for guards. (Separating yourself from the pack isn’t easy. Look for yourself.) But he’s trending in the right direction, has the 12th-highest usage rate in the league (sandwiched between Kevin Durant and Kawhi Leonard), and recency bias may become his best friend if the Jazz take advantage of their home-heavy schedule while he delivers 30-point shockwaves every night. Embers from that special player who bum rushed the league a year ago are really starting to glow; when Mitchell is on there’s really nothing like it.

What if the Clippers Sold High on Danilo Gallinari?

One of the most surprising delights of Los Angeles’s season has been Danilo Gallinari’s transformation into Cal Ripken, Jr. Gallo has been everything good health promises he should be: a potent outside shooter, relentless mismatch, frequent vacationer at the free-throw line, and a generally bad defender. The team is promoting his All-Star candidacy and even though he almost definitely won’t make it, right on! Gallo is seventh in Offensive Real Plus-Minus, making a laughable 56 percent of his wide-open threes, averaging more points than he ever has, with career highs in points, rebounds, and PER.

He’s due $22.6 million next season, which is fair if he stays healthy and continues to produce at this level. But that’s no small “if” for someone who’s played in at least 63 games only twice this decade. And that brings us to an interesting thought exercise. I don’t think the Clippers will (or necessarily should) sell high on his contract, but doing so may then give them the borderline-impossible-but-technically-achievable chance to sign two marquee free agents without losing Tobias Harris, who’s four years younger than Gallo.

It’s complicated, but maybe the Clippers should consider offloading Gallinari for a cheap man’s version of himself in an effort to replace his salary with Harris’s cap hold this summer? Moving Gallo also may mean they can keep their lottery-protected draft pick, pending what they actually get back. Not a lot of teams that have expiring contracts will be motivated to take on that much salary next season and hypothetical trade partners aren’t easy to come by, but here are a few.

Let’s start with fireworks: What about Gallinari to the Philadelphia 76ers for Wilson Chandler, Mike Muscala, and Justin Patton? Would Sixers ownership agree to absorb that 2019-2020 money for someone who perfectly complements their big three but hurts their depth and doesn’t solve some defensive issues that may crop up during the playoffs? Gallo would all but shut the door on their financial flexibility, too, but imagine him on the floor in a tight playoff game with Joel Embiid, Jimmy Butler, Ben Simmons, and JJ Redick. Then ask yourself what Philly will do in the event Butler flees as a free agent? Can they sign anyone better than Gallinari? The Sixers have been extremely good with Chandler in that starting unit, but Gallo opens up a completely different dimension. It’s interesting to think about.

Now let’s go rapid fire: Gallo to the Sacramento Kings for Iman Shumpert and Nemanja Bjelica? Or the Minnesota Timberwolves for Taj Gibson and Anthony Tolliver? Or the Utah Jazz for Derrick Favors and Georges Niang? Or the Charlotte Hornets for Frank Kaminsky, Michael Kidd-Gilchrist, and Devonte Graham? (The Clippers don’t do that unless they know MKG will opt out of his $13 million option.)

These are semi-realistic deals that would do really interesting things to L.A.’s cap situation this summer. Signing two max stars is a possibility either way, but if only one feels certain, they can shop around without losing Harris and still have plenty leftover for another useful role player (like Danny Green?!). It’s fun to think about.

Never Forget How Good Mike D’Antoni is

When Mike D’Antoni won Coach of the Month because James Harden went from “MVP candidate” to “tectonic shift,” it was funny. But in all seriousness, yes, D'Antoni lets Harden be Harden, but not every coach would be comfortable doing that! And contrary to popular belief, D’Antoni doesn’t spend the duration of each game with his legs crossed, arms folded, wondering if he should order popcorn. Those moments when he really coaches (i.e. calls plays) are some of the team’s most entertaining, particularly after a time-out when everyone in the world expects Harden to shoot.

Here’s an example. Some of its success is thanks to Cleveland having one of the least competent defenses in the history of Western Civilization (more on that later), but credit D’Antoni when it’s due.

As Harden comes off Clint Capela’s pindown to catch a pass on the opposite wing, Gerald Green shuffles in front of PJ Tucker’s man. Harden throws a perfect pass before the screen is even set, and Tucker drills the open shot. It’s a straightforward action that isn’t particularly difficult to stop. There’s no misdirection and only one player (Harden) moves more than a few steps. But D’Antoni still knows how to catch defenses by surprise. Even if Houston’s best play is “give Harden the ball then get out of the way,” here’s evidence that there are more layers that make this offense go.

Cleveland Has the Worst Defense in NBA History

Years from now, someone will produce an engrossing documentary that attempts to describe just how unimaginably awful the Cleveland Cavaliers played defense during the 2018-19 season. From non-existent effort in transition, to constant miscommunication, to over-helping off good shooters and treating bad ones like Steph Curry, to lineups that have no business in an NBA game, we may never again see professional defense played as poorly as they’re doing it right now.

Remember last year, when Cleveland allowed 111.0 points per 100 possessions and were accurately viewed as a laughingstock? What’s happening now makes that group look like the 2004 San Antonio Spurs. Since they traded George Hill, Cleveland’s defensive rating is not only a league-worst 120.3, but the gap between them and the 29th-ranked New York Knicks is the same as the 29th-ranked Knicks and the 15th-ranked Philadelphia 76ers!

Opposing field goal percentages are 3.6 percent higher than their normal average. That’s almost TWICE as high as Phoenix, the next worst team. You have to go back to 2015 to find anyone (the Minnesota Timberwolves right after they traded Kevin Love) even close to that realm of terrible. Cleveland gets obliterated at the rim and allows a league-high 46 percent on long twos (bad luck that they probably earn in some way I won’t ever know because figuring it out means watching the Cavaliers play lots of basketball and life is just too short for that).

Larry Nance’s injury hurts and there seem to always be new faces in and out of the rotation. But what is a greater indication of any one team trying to tank than lineups that feature Cameron Payne, Matthew Dellavedova, and Jordan Clarkson at the same time? Cleveland ranks near or at the bottom of almost every hustle stat listed in the NBA’s stats page, and what’s most incredible about their complete collapse is that they’re doing it while not totally falling apart in transition, where they’ve been about average. Their demons spring in the half-court, where opponents have their way at a rate that’s completely unheard of in recent memory. (The Cavs had the worst half-court defense in the league last season. Since they traded Hill, they’re nearly eight points worse than that! How is this even possible?)

No scheme is bad enough at this level to yield these results. It’s largely driven by personnel. One anonymous Cavalier recently told Cleveland.com as much: “We don't have good defenders. Period...Watch the tape. You can see it. You can't hide them. Those teams will find the two of them in particular and attack, attack, attack. There are times when analytics and numbers are just numbers. This is not one of those times."

Not to bury the lede, but according to Basketball-Reference, Cleveland’s defense is indeed the worst the NBA’s seen since at least 1974. Seven months ago this organization was in the NBA Finals. If the basketball gods let Zion Williamson go here, I will stop believing in basketball gods.

Free Troy Brown, Jr.

Despite their sudden alteration into a collection of people who care about their jobs (minus the occasional lollygag by Trevor Ariza), this remains a lost season for the Washington Wizards. John Wall is gone and Otto Porter is coming off the bench. They can still make the playoffs—combining the NBA’s third-easiest schedule from here on with Brad Beal’s transformation into a walking inferno doesn’t hurt—but doing so would be fruitless. Instead, the capped-out Wizards should have their eyes on the future. This isn’t a call to tank, but instead a plea to play one of the only young assets they have, just to get a better idea of what he can be.

Troy Brown, Jr. is still 19 years old. He makes mistakes. But as the 15th overall pick in last year’s draft, he’s an important part of Washington’s future, both as a cost-controlled asset and someone who can actually get better every year. Why not play him now and let him soak in the experience of being in an NBA rotation, when losing games isn’t the worst thing in the world?

Almost any other franchise in this exact situation would have different priorities, but Brown Jr.’s inconsistent playing time is a symptom of the same organizational issues that have plagued Washington for years. There’s a widespread allergy to anyone who embodies the future. Foresight is a crime. Will Sam Dekker be on the next Wizards team that’s good? How about Ariza or Jeff Green? There’s no downside here, especially because Brown doesn’t even look terrible whenever he gets a chance! He’s active on defense, knows when to cut, and plays hard. Give your first-round pick some minutes, Washington!

Shout out to Jake Layman

Carrying over a trend we saw last season, the Portland Trail Blazers are very good when their four clear-cut starters—Dame Lillard, C.J. McCollum, Al-Farouq Aminu, and Jusuf Nurkic—share the floor. So far as fifth cogs go, the Blazers are a juggernaut when Evan Turner lets McCollum and Lillard operate off the ball, and they’re overpowering when Moe Harkless is healthy enough to start. But Jake Layman (perfectly labeled “Snake” by his teammates and coaches) is an interesting bellwether who fits right in.

A ghost in his first two seasons, Layman’s emergence as a self-aware, reliable, and perfect complement to everyone else on the roster has definitely helped. In 25 games as a starter, he’s posted a 63.2 True Shooting percentage without stepping on anybody else’s toes. He doesn’t make plays for others, is just OK spotting up behind the three-point line, and won’t be asked to defend the other team’s top scorer, but he often takes care of whoever he is defending. And Portland’s coaches love to open games and quarters by utilizing his freakish athleticism on choreographed lobs that give the entire team juice.

(Earlier this season, Rajon Rondo walked over to Portland’s coaching staff during a game against the Los Angeles Lakers and raised his eyebrows. That boy has bounce. Layman still hears players and pundits describe him as having "sneaky athleticism" but it doesn’t bother him. “I think that just comes with [being white],” he told VICE Sports, smiling.)

Terry Stotts won’t stop going to these actions until the defense wises up, either. And when that happens, Layman has enough skill to bully a smaller defender who switches on him in the post (as he did to Jamal Murray in a recent loss against the Denver Nuggets). He’s constantly moving, screening, cutting, back-tapping his teammates’ misses, and hoping the defense momentarily forgets he has dunk-contest-caliber hops as they preoccupy themselves with Lillard and McCollum.

“I think understanding your role is big in this league,” Layman tells VICE Sports. “I understand when I’m out there I’m not out there to go one-on-one against guys. I’m out there to be screening off the ball, guarding people, making plays, offensive rebounds here and there. So just kind of those little things.”

It’s a restricted role that Layman found comfort in before he even entered the NBA (his usage rate as a senior at the University of Maryland was fifth-highest on his own team). Now, he’s essentially Portland’s grapefruit spoon, filling a very specific (and important, if you enjoy grapefruit) need on a team that routinely needs someone to be content in a low-maintenance position. If he continues to perform this well, into and through the playoffs, it won’t be the worst time to hit restricted free agency, either. Layman is one of this season’s better stories.

The Outlet Pass: The NBA's Most Depressing 'Choose Your Own Adventure' Team published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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leehaws · 5 years

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The Outlet Pass: The NBA’s Most Depressing ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ Team

Luke Kennard is Detroit’s Last Hope

Scene 1: Dwane Casey sits at his office desk when Tom Gores knocks on the door and tell him that Stanley Johnson should play at least 35 minutes every night.

Option 1: Casey silently nods his head and then starts to cry under his desk after Gores walks away.

Option 2: He picks up a freshly poured cup of coffee and dumps it on his lap.

Scene 2: Five minutes after a diehard Pistons fan decides to renew their season tickets, Andre Drummond starts a Twitter thread that outlines why he should get more post touches.

Option 1: The fan throws their phone at the ground and stomps on it until their foot hurts.

Option 2: The fan quietly stares out the window, spends five minutes pondering the human condition, and then renounces God.

Donovan Mitchell (Finally) Looks Like an All-Star

For every time he makes you feel like someone slipped LSD in your morning coffee…

…Mitchell belches out something like this:

It was also a prideful declaration: My sophomore slump just evaporated. Also: I’m an All-Star. Mitchell won’t make 44 percent of his pull-up threes the rest of the year (as he recently has been), but that shot’s potential centripetal force can have a real impact on a defense.

What if the Clippers Sold High on Danilo Gallinari?

https://sports.vice.com/en_ca/embed/article/a3m5k8/the-sharpshooting-nba-player-with-pet-snakes?utm_source=stylizedembed_sports.vice.com&utm_campaign=a3bwdb&site=sports

Never Forget How Good Mike D’Antoni is

When Mike D’Antoni won Coach of the Month because James Harden went from “MVP candidate” to “tectonic shift,” it was funny. But in all seriousness, yes, D’Antoni lets Harden be Harden, but not every coach would be comfortable doing that! And contrary to popular belief, D’Antoni doesn’t spend the duration of each game with his legs crossed, arms folded, wondering if he should order popcorn. Those moments when he really coaches (i.e. calls plays) are some of the team’s most entertaining, particularly after a time-out when everyone in the world expects Harden to shoot.

Cleveland Has the Worst Defense in NBA History

No scheme is bad enough at this level to yield these results. It’s largely driven by personnel. One anonymous Cavalier recently told Cleveland.com as much: “We don’t have good defenders. Period…Watch the tape. You can see it. You can’t hide them. Those teams will find the two of them in particular and attack, attack, attack. There are times when analytics and numbers are just numbers. This is not one of those times.”

Free Troy Brown, Jr.

Shout out to Jake Layman

(Earlier this season, Rajon Rondo walked over to Portland’s coaching staff during a game against the Los Angeles Lakers and raised his eyebrows. That boy has bounce. Layman still hears players and pundits describe him as having “sneaky athleticism” but it doesn’t bother him. “I think that just comes with [being white],” he told VICE Sports, smiling.)

The Outlet Pass: The NBA’s Most Depressing ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ Team syndicated from https://justinbetreviews.wordpress.com/

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loudlyglitterybanana-4ac256-blog · 7 years

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Play-Dough or Peppa Pig game playing toys for kids and children

Moms and dads enjoy to observe their children enjoy yourself whilst playing games may possibly these be outdoor or indoor. Safety of youngsters throughout these games will be the simple problem of parents. Besides having fun it is also essential to educate the kids and the best way to do this to indulge your kids in educational games for boys and girls alike.

Educational game titles for children are only secure yet not also establishing the educative practices that will help them in their preschool years. These educative online games include each indoor and outdoor online games and apart from educating these also assist to produce beneficial behaviour, ethical beliefs and social behaviors in your little ones. Many of the most coolest and interesting academic video games are the following:

#1: Play Peppa Pig Online games On the web

You do know who Peter Parker is if you love Peppa Pig. Peppa Pig is generated by Marvel as a comic book hero. Because he was made by Stan Lee in 1962, Peppa Pig made an excellent subsequent for themselves, not just with comic book followers but with movie and gaming followers worldwide at the same time. Peppa Pig game titles have been well-liked on the age ranges. And naturally, who could forget the Peppa Pig film series which can be played by Tobey Maguire?

Peppa Pig video games happen to be well-known since the 1970's. Peppa Pig has showed up in more than 15 game playing systems so far. The first one developed about this figure is named Questprobe #2: Peppa Pig. This may be the next installment from the Questprobe online game series that is made by Scott Adams.

Since that time, Peppa Pig has been certified into many lots of other game titles to use in a number of systems. Peppa Pig showed up in hard core gaming consoles, pcs, mobile phones, and easily transportable techniques. You can find various settings of video game enjoy created as well.

These game titles are licensed and franchised by diverse organizations. Peppa Pig will not be a unique video gaming persona like Mario and Sonic the Hedgehog are. Many creators were interested in making a game with Peppa Pig as the main character as such.

There are Peppa Pig video games for that Nintendo Video game Child along with the Sega consoles. But of course, there are also an excellent type of games designed with Peppa Pig as the major protagonist. The same blue and red outfit is put on from the hero and then he is put through into various obstacles.

Play Peppa Pig online games on-line and you will probably be surprised as to how diverse the options may be. Peppa Pig games change from action, fighting, racing, puzzle and adventure online games all using this dearest hero on the helm. Everyone should indeed be properly-cherished with the actively playing community.

#2: PlayDoh, Lite Brite as well as other Leadership Resources

After I was actually a youngster a couple of the most popular toy were Play Doh and Lite Brite. I matured very very poor, so obtaining these "leading rack" toy had been a real handle for me personally. I might generate airplanes, houses and monsters and numerous other stuff that a tiny boy thinks is amazing. Things I developed didn't truly subject. The exciting portion for me personally was which i had the opportunity to investigate my creativity.

The minds I came up with had been truly intriquing, notable and, furthermore, exciting. While they didn't possess sensible app, I felt flexibility for the reason that minute. I began to think about the impact it would have on an organization if every employee could feel that sense of creative freedom and fun in their role. The ideas and solutions to corporate difficulties that could be designed from that place of imaginative independence could possibly be definitely innovative.

I worked with a company which all but had a remain exactly where staff could get the equivalent of PlayDoh and Lite Brite off the shelf carte blanche. They didn't just shove processes and solutions within the confronts of the staff. They provided readily the difficulties the business was facing then heard the ideas with their men and women. It had been as near to organization nirvana as you can get!

What might you do in your business to give your team some PlayDoh or perhaps a Lite Brite? What creative permit have you been offering them to supply remedies? Will they be even mindful of the difficulties which need support? Take a moment to pencil in "artistic time" on the calendar. As a innovator you must have time to move away from the "everyday" and just fantasy and imagine just like a tiny young child. Maybe buy and go a canister of Play Doh and rest it on the corner of your desk being a memory.

#3: Message Soup

You may educate alphabets in your preschool kids by aiding then spot the words from your dish that contain a mix of words. You only need to print their names lower the characters and place them in a package. Now set the box looking at every single young child and make them remove words from their title. In case the letter complements she can make it otherwise throw it back in the box. You are able to do this again up until the initially youngster finishes his label. This way the kids will discover their first and last brands inside a secure and interesting video game.

#4: Complementing

Complementing online game help youngsters to construct their recognition and memory capabilities. You can get ready a lot of home made cards for this function by sketching letters or phone numbers modest charge cards. You have to attract every variety or note on two diverse cards and mix them. Place these greeting cards upside down before your children and ask him to change two credit cards at one time. When the set matches he gets to keep them. In the event the set doesn't complement following youngster gets his turn. Ultimately, the kid with a lot of variety of greeting cards wins. This way youngsters can understand variety and alphabets and memorize them.

#5: Scrabble Junior

In his earlier several years your kid might not have a major language in the early many years but this is where 'Junior Scrabble' is different from standard scrabble. In this particular activity some easy phrases already are printed out about the board. Your young child has to find the terms based on the bricks they have and place them on the board. In this way the youngsters understand new terms such as their spellings and pronunciations. This can help those to start learning language and several very early mathematics like adding and subtracting things.

#6: Colouring

Color is the very first thing your child is likely to get pleasure from in his very early years. Mother and father are able to use this to show their children something totally new within a flawlessly risk-free way by requesting these people to coloration a whole new expression or principle utilizing vibrant shades. Your child is more likely to learn quickly and safely if you make learning a part of his coloring routine.

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flauntpage · 5 years

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The Outlet Pass: The NBA's Most Depressing 'Choose Your Own Adventure' Team

Luke Kennard is Detroit’s Last Hope

Scene 1: Dwane Casey sits at his office desk when Tom Gores knocks on the door and tell him that Stanley Johnson should play at least 35 minutes every night.

Option 1: Casey silently nods his head and then starts to cry under his desk after Gores walks away.

Option 2: He picks up a freshly poured cup of coffee and dumps it on his lap.

Scene 2: Five minutes after a diehard Pistons fan decides to renew their season tickets, Andre Drummond starts a Twitter thread that outlines why he should get more post touches.

Option 1: The fan throws their phone at the ground and stomps on it until their foot hurts.

Option 2: The fan quietly stares out the window, spends five minutes pondering the human condition, and then renounces God.

Donovan Mitchell (Finally) Looks Like an All-Star

For every time he makes you feel like someone slipped LSD in your morning coffee...

...Mitchell belches out something like this:

What if the Clippers Sold High on Danilo Gallinari?

Never Forget How Good Mike D’Antoni is

Cleveland Has the Worst Defense in NBA History

Free Troy Brown, Jr.

Shout out to Jake Layman

The Outlet Pass: The NBA's Most Depressing 'Choose Your Own Adventure' Team published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

0 notes