#jordan christoff

[dear-indies]

hey! can i ask if you have suggestions for indonesian men fcs (full or biracial) who are in their 20s? thank you!

Jordan Connor (1991) Chinese, Vietnamese, Thai, Indonesian, Papua New Guinean, Samoan / Croatian, Spanish, Greek, Italian.

Kevin Julio (1993) Indonesian, Dutch.

Refal Hady (1993) Indonesian.

Harris Illano Vriza (1993) Indonesian.

Anwar Sanjaya (1993) Indonesian.

Stefan William (1993) Indonesian / White.

Alex Rio (1993) Indonesian.

Giorgino Abraham (1994) Indonesian, Dutch.

Chicco Kurniawan (1994) Indonesian.

Arbani Yasiz (1994) Indonesian.

Jourdy Pranata (1994) Indonesian.

Esa Septian Pramudha Sigit (1994) Indonesian.

Indra Brotolaras (1994) Indonesian.

Fajar Nugra (1995) Indonesian.

Omar Daniel (1995) Indonesian.

Ardhito Pramono (1995) Indonesian.

Achmad Megantara (1996) Indonesian.

Shandy William (1996) Indonesian.

Aliando Syarief (1996) Indonesian.

Verrell Bramasta (1996) Indonesian.

Rizky Nazar (1996) Indonesian.

Sidik Eduard (1997) Indonesian.

Ahmad Al Ghazali (1997) Indonesian.

Emir Mahira (1997) Indonesian.

Axel Matthew Thomas (1997) Indonesian.

Christoffer Nelwan (1997) Indonesian.

Anrez Putra Adelio (1997) Indonesian.

Bara Valentino (1997) Indonesian, Turkish.

Cinta Brian (1997) Indonesian / English.

Daffa Wardhana (1998) Indonesian.

Jeff Smith (1998) Indonesian / White.

Elgi Purnama (1998) Indonesian.

Debo Andryos (1998) Indonesian.

Rey Mbayang (1998) Indonesian.

Randy Martin (1998) Indonesian.

Teuku Ryzki (1998) Indonesian.

Antonio Blanco Jr (1999) Indonesian, 1/4 Spanish.

Yusuf Mahardika (1999) Indonesian.

Naufal Samudra (1999) Indonesian.

Kevin Ardilova (1999) Indonesian.

Bastian Steel (1999) Indonesian.

Giulio Parengkuan (1999) Indonesian.

Jefri Nichol (1999) Indonesian.

Iqbaal Ramadhan (1999) Indonesian.

Angga Aldi Yunanda (2000) Indonesian.

Alzi Markers (2000) Indonesian.

Fadly Faisal (2000) Indonesian.

Bryan Domani (2000) Indonesian / German.

Aditya Zoni (2000) Indonesian.

Abidzar Al Ghifari (2001) Indonesian.

Ari Irham (2001) Indonesian.

Agoye Mahendra (2001) Indonesian.

Ajil Ditto (2001) Indonesian.

Here you go!

[goalhofer]

2023-24 Henderson Silver Knights Players By Nationality

American: 4 (Jake Bischoff, Brendan Brisson, Mason Morelli & Gage Quinney) Canadian: 15 (Layton Ahac, Tyler Benson, Matt Boudens, Lukas Cormier, Adam Cracknell, Daniel D'Amato, Mason Geertsen, Brandon Hickey, Jett Jones, Dysin Mayo, Jordan Papirny, Simon Pinard, Mason Primeau & Alex Swetlikoff) Russian: 3 (Daniil Chayka, Denis Grigorenko & Daniil Miromanov) Czech: 2 (Jakub Brabanec & Jiří Patera) Finnish: 2 (Christoffer Sedoff & Jesper Vikman) Slovak: 1 (Jakub Demek) Swedish: 1 (Jesper Vikman)

[queerduvet]

ranking the penetrator chrises

i have no strong feelings this is based on looks alone pretty much

penetrator chris - fit

gijs - isn’t average looking

cristian - has a nice smile that’s all i can say

luka - looks like he goes to private school

jordan - meh

federico - looks like 30

samuel - boring ? does anyone remember him ?

alex - looks like a douche

[dustedmagazine]

Dust, Volume 8, Number 6

The Orange Dots

As spring makes its way into summer, the Dusted crew digs in with our monthly collection of short reviews that hits on jazz reed outings, noise-encrusted drone, fuzzed out songs, blown-out garagey rock and abstracted music for film with plenty of stops in between. Contributors this time through include Tim Clarke, Justin Cober-Lake, Bryon Hayes, Mason Jones, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Michael Rosenstein and Jonathan Shaw. Now on to Summer!

Zoh Amba — O Life, O Light Vol. 1 (577 Records)

O Life, O Light Vol. 1 by Zoh Amba featuring William Parker and Francisco Mela

Not every 21-year-old saxophonist can say that John Zorn put out their first album and William Parker plays on their second. Zoh Amba is off to a hell of a start, but it’s fair to ask, what’s going on besides a case of heavy company? On the strength of the music on O Life, O Light Vol. 1, the tenor saxophonist from Kingsport, TN has her free jazz fundamentals in order. Her broad vibrato and importuning melodies recall Albert Ayler and she stands her ground while William Parker and Francisco Mela make it move around her. If that sounds like a statement of what she thinks is right rather than what new ideas she has conceived, well, let’s see what she comes up with when she’s 22. Time is on her side.

Bill Meyer

Andrew Anderson — Vagrancies (Elevator Bath)

Vagrancies by Andrew Anderson

Between the heat and the cost of living, Austin, TX gives a body good reasons not to leave the house. Andrew Anderson has put his time behind closed doors to good use by magnifying and warping the sounds of a piano, electronics, distant wildlife and his pal Thor Harris’ piano string harp into audio environments optimally designed for wandering. Are you walking streets after dark? Taking up residence on the dial in between a couple radio stations? Putting your ear so close to your happy cat’s belly that you are picking up transmissions of dreams about birds they wish they’d eaten? Maybe you are, or maybe Vagrancies just makes you think that’s what’s happening.

Bill Meyer

Asher & Jordan — Foliage (Crash Symbols)

Foliage by Asher & Jordan

Foliage is an enticing alloy crafted by Airick Asher Woodhead, who records as Doldrums, and Jordan Christoff, half of cosmic new age unit PJS. Each artist brings their own signature flair to the party, yet as a unit the duo produces something unique. Theirs is a visceral, noise-encrusted drone that constantly searches to reveal its ever-evolving contours. Scything sawtooth waves and short, spiky loops carve their way through layers of dreamy synth ambience. Woodhead’s chosen moniker calls to mind a certain act from the 1990s that recorded for both the Kranky and VHF labels. This nicely packaged cassette displays elements associated with both imprints: imagine Stars of the Lid collaborating with Matthew Bower, covering Tangerine Dream. Woodhead and Christoff pride themselves on live recording, with no overdubs or computers involved. Pursuits this daring can lead either to happy accidents or to a muddled miasma. With Foliage, it’s the former, likely due to this pair’s long-standing partnership in sound.

Bryon Hayes

Ballister — Chrysopoeia (Not Two)

Chrysopoeia by Ballister

Ballister redefines refinement on refinement on Chrysopoeia, the trio’s tenth recording. Recorded in concert at Alchemia, an establishment in Krakow, Poland that’s hosted the combo many times since saxophonist Dave Rempis, cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm and drummer Paal Nilssen-Love first convened in 2009, it makes a virtue of familiarity. The knowledge of one another’s moves that comes from improvising complete concerts, night after night and tour after tour, results in music that feels unerringly right at the same time that it makes the listener stop and ask — what the fuck was that? Sometimes the question is inspired by some unearthly sound, or a ratcheting of tension beyond the point where the wrench ought to shatter, or a sudden moment of restraint within the full-on barrage. Or maybe it’s asked after the CD’s 51 minutes have passed, when you’re wondering what just went down. Or maybe it’s when you take the long view and consider that these guys sound as committed and exciting as they did a decade ago. But the question is always asked appreciatively. Ballister has done it again.

Bill Meyer

Kevin Drumm — !!! (JMY)

!!! by Kevin Drumm

You might not see Kevin Drumm playing concerts, not notice labels releasing new LPs of his music, but that doesn’t mean he’s unproductive. If you head over to his Bandcamp page and subscribe, you’ll enjoy a steady flow of new music, ready for you to stream or download. “!” and “!!” were first released there in August 2020, but JMY proprietor Brent Gutzeit (also of TV Pow) has brought them into the physical world, albeit as a humble CDR. Both tracks last over twenty minutes and they offer contrasting immersive experiences. The first is a big blast of noise, which feels grating and monolithic until you give it your undivided attention. Then, it differentiates into a maelstrom of not-quite-identifiable sonic detritus, an audio equivalent to the dense mess that a planet might dissolve into after the monitoring galactic cops accidentally bump the Annihilate button while reaching for the cosmic snack box’s last donut. The second is quieter, but no less quizzical. It appears to be a mix of field recordings that have been woven together like memories in an unbounded reverie.

Bill Meyer

Alexandra Grimal — refuge (Relative Pitch Records)

refuge by Alexandra Grimal

Somehow, Swiss musician Alexandra Grimal has escaped my notice up to now. This solo soprano saxophone release, recorded in the double helix staircase in the castle of Chambord, France during a residency she spent there changes all that. Working with the natural resonance of the open, central edifice, Grimal’s eight pieces, ranging from two to 16 minutes long, utilize sonorous snaking themes that hang and twist back on themselves like the circuitous setting where they were recorded. Grimal utilizes a full tone colored by multiphonics, letting notes hang, filled out by the relatively short decay of the warm reverberations of the space. Grimal lets each piece develop slowly, never rushing notes or ideas, letting densities and volume ebb and flow. Take “château,” where sections drop to a near whisper and then ultimately build to long quavering tones that mount in surging waves. On “martinets,” short notes are placed with sharp attack against silence melding seamlessly in to “vent,” which weaves a songlike line with an abstract lyricism. That sense of songlike structure appears again with “escalier,” which builds from angular, melodic kernels that slowly accrue with a birdsong-like delicacy. A look at Grimal’s site reveals that she’s about to drop a recording of songs with electronics composed during the same residency at Chambord while working on a composition for four voices. Clearly, she’s a on a roll and worth keeping an eye on.

Michael Rosenstein

Bill Harris — Blinking Glue (Amalgam)

Blinking Glue by Bill Harris

If you attend free jazz concerts and multi-disciplinary performances in Chicago in recent times, you are likely to have shared space with Bill Harris. Sometimes he’s the guy at the drum kit, powering music made with Jake Wark, Matt Piet, Ishmael Ali, or the total improv trio of Harris, Jim Baker and Brandon Lopez (full disclosure — I wrote liner notes for that group’s forthcoming album, Dura). Other times, he’s recording the concert. On Blinking Glue, his skill sets of percussionist, sound capturer, and electronic tone manipulator converge. The 24-minute-long recording documents Harris alone, the day after Boxing Day 2021, but don’t call it a drum solo; Harris is a one-man band. The first sounds are scything feedback sweeps whose serrated edges would make many guitarists envious. But since the feedback comes not from a guitar, but from parts of Harris’ kit, it is integrated into the harsh punctuations and rushing, rhythmic forays of his drumming. If you are a fan of physical media, be aware that the compact disc, like many Amalgam releases, is a CDR; be further informed that the disc’s sleeve, which reproduces illustrations taken from a report on the condition of the Chernobyl nuclear reactor, is a thing of beauty.

Bill Meyer

Interior Geometry — Tore Through the Sky (Self-Release)

TORE THROUGH THE SKY by interior geometry

Jared Sparkes piles the fuzz onto his tuneful songs, hedging in bright, positive melodies with thickets of discordant guitar sound. Your natural inclination is to bring in the Guided by Voices comparisons, but tunes like “What Have You Done?” have more of Superchunk’s detuned vulnerability than Pollard’s teenaged kicks, and “Wet Swans Go On & On” echoes and hisses like a Pink Reason outtake or maybe a tune by the Quietus. This latest missive from Michigan’s burgeoning indie pop/punk scene bears the imprint of Fred Thomas’ influence; he produced and plays bass on two tracks. Mary Fraser of the Ypsilanti band Child Sleep sings soft, nearly twee vocals on “Tender Terrible,” musing that “you are something tender…in a terrible world.” But it’s mostly Sparkes, cranking up the noise to veil but never entirely obscure the sweetness of his songs. Buy the physical copy and you’ll get a spiral notebook full of sketches by Detroit-based artist Grace Millard, as well as photos and lyrics.

Jennifer Kelly

Masayo Koketsu — FUKIYA (Relative Pitch Records)

FUKIYA by Masayo Koketsu

Starting out with a burred surge, alto saxophonist Masayo Koketsu makes it clear that she understands the notion of tension and release. For the ensuing 46 minutes, she mines that command with an entrancing solo that draws on the vocabulary of free jazz, Japanese folk tunes, skronk overblowing and a canny balance of intensity and silence. That sense of balance defines the entire release. She embraces sections of brawny vigor, punching out squawking yelps imbued with harsh overblown multiphonics then drops to stark silence. Fifteen minutes in, she introduces a sliding theme that evokes the breathy phrasing of a shakuhachi folk theme and then decomposes it into skirling flutters which build to raw lamentations. The solo swells with a raucous astringency which carries through with chafed yawps and dark, abraded, mournful musings. But Koketsu’s underlying sense of pacing and structure hold this all together. She ties these discrete events together with resolute control and a clear sense of the trajectory of the piece, wending her way to a doleful conclusion. It is no mean feat to pull off an extended solo outing. With FUKIYA, Koketsu establishes that she is more than up to the task.

Michael Rosenstein

Bennie Maupin & Adam Rudolph — Symphonic Tone Poem for Brother Yusef (Strut)

Symphonic Tone Poem for Brother Yusef by Bennie Maupin & Adam Rudolph

Adam Rudolph played percussion alongside the great reedist Yusuf Lateef for much of his career, accompanying him in a spiritual/musical journey that touched on Eastern and African traditions as much as American jazz from 1988 until Lateef’s death in 2013. Much more than a drummer, he composed alongside Lateef on landmark albums including The World at Peace and Beyond the Sky. To celebrate Lateef’s 100th birthday, Rudolph joined with another celebrated jazz woodwindist, Bennie Maupin, to compose this tribute. Maupin is best known for his work on Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew, but like Lateef, he is a man of wide interests and skills.

Across these five movements, the two men traverse a varied, magical realist terrain, constructed from saxophone, electronics, voice and percussion. The first movement shimmers with latent energies, heated scrawls of saxophone across murmuring backgrounds of electronic tone, insistent rhythms of hand drums and tonal percussion sketching a time-path through primordial mists. The second blows a plaintive flute over humid silence, scattering xylophone notes like jewels in its wake; a steady pulse of drums, the crash of gongs, the glow of electronic keyboards, the intermittent shouts of one of the players join in an inscrutable sort of dance. Movement three wavers like a heat mirage, while number four rattles and mutters like a techno track. There is an intuitive give and take between the two players but also an ecstatic release, as mindfulness gives way to Zen-like no mind. Wonderful stuff.

Jennifer Kelly

Anthony Moore — Flying Doesn’t Help (Drag City)

Flying Doesn't Help by Anthony Moore

Having reissued 1976’s Out in 2020, Drag City continues their campaign to introduce twenty-first-century listeners to the wonders of Anthony Moore. Perhaps best known as a member of Slapp Happy and Henry Cow, Moore also released music under his own name, which has its own specific and addictive flavor. Broadly speaking, this remastered edition of 1979’s Flying Doesn’t Help belongs among the overlapping circles of a Venn diagram that includes art-rock, glam and post-punk. Though his albums flew under the radar at the time, they sit proudly alongside obvious reference points such as early Roxy Music, Eno’s Here Come the Warm Jets and Berlin-era Bowie. Opener “Judy Get Down” is an absolute cracker, crammed to the gills with sing-along hooks, while the remainder of the first side has plenty more fizzing pop gems and sneering choruses. However, Moore doesn’t let you forget his experimental credentials. “Ready Ready” opens with a glorious lattice of overlapping sheet-metal guitar waves, then its main riff is underpinned by what sounds like the pulse of a car alarm. The intimidating wall of noise that kicks off “War” goes some way towards evoking the horrors of its title. And the closing instrumental “Twilight (Uxbridge Rd)” is an uneasy send-off, pairing warbling synths with distant, eerie saxophone squeals.

Tim Clarke

Kyle Motl / Patrick Shiroishi — Apparitions (Notice)

Apparitions by Kyle Motl/Patrick Shiroishi

Who witnesses the ghostly visions referenced in this tape’s title? Might it be Patrick Shiroishi, a man of several saxophones, or double bassist Kyle Motl? Or might they be hoping to induce you, dear listener, to perceive things that type no weight on the scale? Neither player is the kind of guy who is inclined to be confined by mandates of instrumental or stylistic expectations, and both invest the music they make with a meaning beyond the undeniable impact of the raw scrapes, explosive snaps, coarse multiphonics and intricately twisted lines that they play. Since the specter that moves through walls can still stop your heart, perhaps they want to be apparitions, not see them. There is something undeniably eerie about these improvisations. Wear your garlic cloves, and keep your ears unstopped; there’s nothing going on here that you want to miss.

Bill Meyer

Nihil Nihil Nihil — Things Fall Apart As They Shall (Caligari Records)

Things Fall Apart As They Shall by NIHIL NIHIL NIHIL

That looks like a whole lot of nihilism — but what you get on Things Fall Apart As They Shall is a whole lot of death rock, heavy on the metal, partial to some post-punk. The spirit of Ian Curtis is being conjured by the unnamed vocalist (the interwebs are pretty short on info about the band), but it’s clearly schtick. Curtis came by his stilted, performative singing style honestly, as a byproduct of his anxieties and dread. Nihil Nihil Nihil do their best to summon dread and the four tunes (three originals and a cover of a Chameleons song) on this EP have a promisingly morbid sensibility. Mid-to-downtempo bummer rhythms, gits with some growl and gritty drama dominate. This reviewer responds especially well to “Further Inwards,” in which the band lets its goth thang strut. You can just about smell the mascara sizzling and it works. Just how morose, pessimistic and pissed these dudes really are remains to be seen. A full-length release would be revealing, if the world doesn’t beat them to the punch and completely fall apart. This EP isn’t quite the soundtrack for an event that doom-struck, but you can sure shake your butt to “Dance the End” while reading about the latest awfulness from Nigeria or Palestine or Ukraine. Now that’s some nihilism.

Jonathan Shaw

The Orange Dots — Nautic Girl (self-released)

Nautic Girl by The Orange Dots

This Norwegian duo present six tracks of blown-out garagey rock, with a variety of approaches making for an enjoyable ride. Tore Ljøkelsøy and Thomas Bergsten kick things off with a blast of grunge, then “Oh Lord Can You Show The Way” closes out with a gentle vocal duet. The guitar tone, buzzing and breaking apart into distortion, has an echoey, West Coast psych feel to it, while the drums fill the crevices with splashes, fills and rolls. The tick-tock drums and southern blues guitar of “Change Will Come” move from atmospheric jam into full-on heavy fuzz intensity. Amidst the distorted chaos, their intermittent dual-voiced vocals, simply chanting the title, work quite well. “Lost A Dream” alternates heavily blasted guitar and frenetic pounding drums with brief pauses for peaceful, reverbed vocals, then “Born Again” offers a break, with its quietly plucked guitar, gentle drums and airy vocals, slowly growing more tangled. After the fun instrumental jam “Duo For Mallets & Guitar,” with what seems to be xylophone and inner-space guitar noisings, the duo close out with a simple and visceral chugging rock tune. The wonderfully-named “Woke Up Dead With Nothing To Do” locomotives along nicely, with a break in the middle filled with tape delay overdrive and multi-limbed drum flailing. In its final minute the song returns to its opening chug and finishes with a strong MC5 vibe. Nicely done.

Mason Jones

R.E. Seraphin — Swingshift EP (Dandyboy/Mt. St. Mtn/Safe Suburban Homes)

"Swingshift" by R.E. Seraphin

Five originals and two covers from the Bay Area fuzz master, R.E. Seraphin thread the needle between twee pop and the melodic garage rock roar. Last time around, reviewing the Tiny Shapes disc in 2020, I likened one of his songs to “a summer radio megahit heard from several rooms away, bittersweet and slipping away even as it plays.” A year later, his tunes are similarly soft and scratchy, like a Jesus & Mary Chain song put on late at night, softly, so that you can barely hear it. So, while “Playing House” thumps and blares in an instrumental backing redolent of Exploding Hearts, its verse and chorus are murmured in your ear. Jangly “Stuck in Reno” mines the all-weather rock ’n roll topic of being out of place (in this case, in Nevada) but at a nostalgic low simmer, as if this disastrous road trip were already softened by time and memory. The two covers near the end demonstrate Seraphin’s excellent taste and bifurcated interests. “I’ll Be Around,” from the Wipers, gives him a chance to show off some lovely, driving bass and mine the power of a simple, urgent chorus. The Television Personalities “This Time There’s No Happy Ending” explores the poppier, trippier side of Seraphin’s aesthetic. If you like lo-fi pop of the Bay Area (Reds, Pinks and Purples, Umbrellas) or even New Zealand variety, check out Seraphin.

Jennifer Kelly

Paul Slavens — Alphabet Girls, Vol. II (State Fair)

Paul Slavens makes no sense. He's had some solo releases and played in some interesting Denton, TX-area indie bands. He's also been a radio host and a voice actor, though he admits to being “not too impressed” with his own vocals (maybe Fullmetal Alchemist doesn't prepare you for singing). His latest endeavor finishes a project first started over a decade ago. He now releases Alphabet Girls, Vol. II, completing a series of songs inspired by 26 abecedarian women's names. The songs provide a vehicle for the breadths of Slavens’ influences. Listeners who know him only has a member of the Travoltas or the Baptist Generals might be surprised by the jazz and stage influences.

Slavens sees himself more of a composer than a traditional songwriter and moments on the album tie in more to jazz or even cinematic scores (given a time machine, he could write for an early Bond movie). Scott Walker makes for a reasonable touchpoint, as does some of Tom Waits’ career, although Slavens’ voice is unlike either of theirs and his mania comes across more happily. “Ophelia” gives a tongue-in-cheek talk with the Hamlet character, its zaniness heightened by following the lovely “Naomi” and preceding the theatrical “Priscilla.” “Queenie” adds some bebop to the mix. The whole record precedes like this, gleefully skipping around, mixing playfulness and classiness, all developing Slavens’ strange ideas and strong compositions.

Justin Cober-Lake

Squirrel Flower — Planet EP (Polyvinyl)

Planet EP by Squirrel Flower

Squirrel Flower’s Ella Williams constructed Planet EP out of leftovers from her second, environmentally focused LP, Planet (i). Minimally produced, sparsely instrumented, these seven tracks showcase the lovely fragility of Williams’ voice, often twined around itself in translucent harmonies and agilely supported by flurries and bursts of acoustic guitar. The artist continues to make a distinctive space for herself in the crowded singer-songwriter space, breathing delicate life into knotty sentiments and leaning into the sheer beauty of her melodies. But while Planet (i) considered global, environmental catastrophe, Planet EP is far more personal, centered on the unsatisfactory dynamics of uneven love. “Open Wound” pokes at the underpinnings of a romantic relationship, the narrator seeking support and understanding, her lover unresponsive. The song builds in overlapping layers of meaning and tone, overdubbed voices swelling then fading as Williams intones “I won’t do it, I won’t do it” and a siren wails. “Your Love Is a Disaster” traverses similar emotional terrain, its plaintive request, “take me dancing,” evidently falling on unhearing ears. The Bjork cover, “Unravel,” is an unassuming triumph, Williams’ voice high and pure and echoing, making the choruses both vast and introverted. Heartbreak rarely sounds so spectrally pretty.

Jennifer Kelly

Teddy and the Rough Riders — Teddy and the Rough Riders (Appalachia Record Co.)

Teddy and the Rough Riders probably wouldn’t do so well at San Juan Hill. At least not in battle, but maybe their music would go over okay. The group doesn’t quite fit in anywhere, which means they fit in everywhere. With their self-titled debut album, the group shows its comfort blending related styles into a cohesive album. The country sound runs throughout the disc, but the band turns from 1968 San Francisco to 1972 Nashville to more modern Southern rock and country-folk with aplomb. Margo Price’s production (and a guest vocal spot) helps organize everything but never hinders the fun. Luke Schneider’s pedal steel adds plenty of flavor (even as he keeps his experimental side in check), but the songs each bring their own character. The use of the past peaks with cowboy closer “Hey, Richard,” a tribute to the mythology of Little Richard, a thought of the ghosts of both rock ‘n’ roll and country. The group might acknowledge its forebears, but it doesn't linger on these ghosts. Utilizing the best of a broadly considered country-rock aesthetic, Teddy and the Rough Riders make music more permanent than a poltergeist and more potent than pastiche, but still plenty playful.

Justin Cober-Lake

Terminal Nation / Kruelty — The Ruination of Imperialism (20 Buck Spin)

The Ruination Of Imperialism by Terminal Nation / Kruelty

With this downtuned, densely crunching and death-driven split, Terminal Nation and Kruelty seem to be militating for the accolade of heaviest record of the year. Regular listening may find you listing floor-ward, weighed down by the riffs’ irresistible gravitational pull. Terminal Nation’s side of the split is the real monster, a Boss pedal manifesto of lefty vituperation and revolutionary zeal. You usually encounter that sort of ethos on the punkier end of heavy music’s continuum, but Terminal Nation is pissed and convincing about it. Two-thirds of the way through “Curators of Brutality,” vocalist Stan Liszewski repeatedly hollers, “We have the numbers!” That’s direct action he’s demanding, folks. On the flip, Japanese hardcore freaks Kruelty do their characteristic thing: long, piledriving, midtempo beatdowns, with death metal-inspired growls aplenty. Both of their tracks are quite good. But it’s hard to match Terminal Nation’s energy and passionate political fury, which is serious stuff to shout about in Little Rock, Arkansas. Somehow, Liszewski’s vocals ride the top of Dalton Rail’s and Tommy Robinson’s amp abuse. He snarls, “There must be retribution / Before redistribution.” Right on, brother.

Jonathan Shaw

Rafael Toral — Music For Film (Noise Precision)

Music for Film by Rafael Toral

There’s no way that Rafael Toral, a rigorous student as well as a skilled shaper of evocative sound, is unaware of Brian Eno’s Music For Films. So, what gives with the absent S? The meaning turns out to be literal; this DL-only recording, which is available from Toral’s Bandcamp page, comprises music he recorded for a short film, Pedro Cabaleira’s By Flávio. If you caught it at the 72nd Berlin International Film Festival, you could let me know how the music worked in that context. But it stands quite well on its own; so well that one wonders why it’s only being released in such an ephemeral format. This is Toral’s first recording in a couple decades to put the guitar first, and if you have a hankering for his 1990s work using that instrument, and especially Sound Mind Sound Body, then it’s time for you to pop the cork on that special bottle you’ve been saving. The long, unfurling tones are very much in the spirit of that recording, although years of experience in fundamentally dissimilar musical contexts ensure that this is not simply a matter of picking up where he left off. These days, Toral’s music is, like a lot of us, a bit roughed up, with gritty, ground-down textures pushing through the fluorescent glow. Rumor has it that there’s a new, proper album on the horizon; if this is an advance trailer, then the finished feature might be quite something.

Bill Meyer

[trans-and-baby-names]

Masculine Names

Aaron  Abdul Abe  Abel Abraham  Abram Ace Achilles  Adair Adam Adonis Adrian Adriel  Ahmed Ajax Ajay Aiden Alan Albert Alejandro Alex Alexander Alfonso Alfred Alistair Alister Allen  Alonzo Amadeo Amadeus Amani Amari Ambrose Amir Anders  Anderson Andre Andreas Andrew Andy Angel Angelo Angus Ansel  Anson Anthony Antonio Apollo Aries Archer Archie Aristotle Arlo  Arnaldo Arnold Arsenio Arthur Arturo Arwin Asa Asher Aslan Atlas  Atticus Aubrey August Augustin Augustine Augustus Aurelio Aurelius Austin Axel  Aziz

Balthazar  Bane Barnabas  Barnaby Barney Baron  Barrett Basil Bastian  Bear Beau Beck Ben Benjamin  Benji Bentley Bernard Bertram Bertrand  Blake Blaze Blue Bobby Bodhi Booker Boris  Boston Bowie Boyd Brad Bradford Bradley Bram  Bramwell Bran Brandon Brandt Braxton Braylen Brayden Brendon  Brent Brett Brian Briar Brick Bridge Bridger Brock Brody Brogan  Bronx Brook Brooks Bruce Bruno Brutus Bryce Bryson Buck Bud Buddha  Buddy Buck Burt Burton Buster Buzz Byron 

Cade  Caden Cain  Cairo Caius Calder  Caleb Callum Calvin Cam  Cameron Camillo Campbell Carl  Carlisle Carlito Carlo Carlos Carlton  Carmine Carson Carter Casper Caspian Cassian  Cassias Cato Cecil Cedar Cedric Cesar Chad Chadwick  Chance Charles Charlton Chase Chauncey Chester Chidi Chip  Christoff Christoph Christopher Christian Chuck Cian Cillian  Clarence Clark Claud Clay Clayton Cliff Clifford Clint Clinton  Clyde Coby Cody Colby Cole Collin Colt Colton Conan Connor Conrad  Constantine Cooper Copper Corbin Cornelius Cory Cosmo Cosmos Costas Craig Crispin Cruz Curt Curtis Cyrus

Dale  Dallas  Dalton Damien  Damon Dan Dane Daniel  Dante Darius Darrel Darren  Dash Dashiell Davey David Dawson  Dax Daxton Deacon Dean DeAndre Declan  Demetrius Denali Dennis Denny Denzel Derek  Derrick Des Desmond Dewey Dex Dexter Diego Diesel  Dion Dirk Dixon Dmitri Dominic Donatello Donovan Dorian  Doug Douglas Draco Drew Duke Duncan Dustin Dusty Dwayne Dwight  Dylan Dyson 

Earl  Easton  Edgar Edmund  Eduardo Edward Edwin  Egon Eli Elijah Elias  Elliott Ellis Elroy Elton  Emanuel Emeric Emerson Emery  Emil Emiliano Emmett Emrys Enrique  Enzo Eric Ernest Ernesto Ernie Esteban  Ethan Eugene Eustace Euvan Evan Evander Everett  Ezekiel Ezra 

Fabian  Fabio Falcon  Faustus Felix Ferdinand  Fergus Ferguson Fernando Fidel  Fido Finbar Findlay Finn Finnley  Fionn Fisher Fitz Fletcher Flint Florence  Florian Ford Forrest Fort Foster Fowler Fox  Francesco Francis Francisco Franco Frank Frankie  Franklin Fred Freddy Fredrick Frederico

Gabe  Gabriel  Gael Gage  Gale Galen Garfield Garrett Gaston Gatsby  Gavin Geoffrey Geordie George  Gerald Gerard Gideon Gil Gilbert  Gilberto Giovanni Glenn Gordon Gordy  Grady Graham Grant Gray Grayson Gregg  Gregory Grey Griffin Griffith Grover Gunner  Gunther Gus Gustavo Guy 

Hades  Hal Hamilton  Hank Hans Harley Harrison  Harry Hawk Hayden Hayes Heath Hector  Henrik Hendrix Henry Herb Herbert Herbie  Hercules Hermes Hershel Hiram Holden Howard  Howie Hudson Hugo Humphrey Hunter Hux Huxley 

Ian Igor Iker Irvin Isaac Isaiah Ivan 

Jace  Jack Jackson  Jacob Jaques Jaden  Jake Jalen Jamal James  Jameson Jared Jason Jax  Jay Jed Jedidiah Jefferson  Jeffrey Jeremiah Jeremy Jerome  Jerry Jesus Jethro Jett Jim Jimmy  Joe Joel Johan Johannes John Johnny Jonah  Jonas Jonathan Jones Jordan Jose Joseph Joshua  Josiah Juan Juanito Judah Judas Judd Jude Jules Julian  Julien Julio Julius Junior Jupiter Jurgen Justice Justin Justus 

Kaden  Kai Kaiser  Kale Kaleb Kane  Keane Keanu Keaton  Keegan Keenan Keith  Kellen Kenan Kendrick  Kenneth Kenzo Keoni Kevin Khalid  Kian Kieran Kiernan Kingsley Kingston Killian  Kip Kwan Kyle

Lachlan  Lake Lamar  Lance Lancelot  Landon Lane Larkin  Larry Lars Laurence Laurent  Lawrence Lawson Lazlo Legend Leif  Leith Leland Leo Leon Leonardo Leopold  Leroy Levi Liam Lincoln Linden Logan Loki  London Lonnie Lonny Lorcan Lorenzo Lou Louie  Louis Luc Luca Lucas Lucian Lucky Luke Lupe Luther

Maddox  Maksim Malachi  Malachy Malakai Malcolm  Malik Manfred Manny Marcel Marcello  Marcellus Marcio Marcius Marco Marcos  Marcus Marian Marino Mario Marius Mark  Marlin Marlon Marmaduke Marques Mars Marshall  Martin Marty Marvel Marvin Massimo Mason Matt Matteo  Matthew Maurice Maverick Max Maximilian Maximus Maxwell  Melvin Mercury Meredith Merritt Micah Michael Miguel Miles  Milo Mitchell Moe Monte Montgomery Murdoch Murphy Murray Murtagh  Murtaugh Myles

Nathan  Nathaniel  Ned Nelson  Nemo Neo Neon  Neptune Neville  Newt Newton Nick  Nicky Nicola Nicolai  Nicholas Niko Noah Noel Nolan  Norm Norman Novak 

Obadiah  Octavio Octavius  Odin Olaf Oleg Oliver  Olivier Omar Orion Orlando  Orville Osborn Oscar Oso Osvaldo  Oswald Ottis Otto Owen Oz Ozzy

Pablo  Palmer Panther  Parker Pascal Patrick Paul  Paxton Pedro Penn Percival Percy Perseus  Peter Peyton Phil Philip Phineas Phoenix Pier  Pierce Pierre Pilot Pluto Porter Poseidon Preston  Prince Prosper

Qadir  Quincy Quinn  Quinton 

Raiden  Ralph Ramone  Ramses Randall Randolph  Randy Raphael Ravi Ray Raymond Red  Reece Reggie Reginald Regis Reid Remington  Reuben Rex Reynald Reynaldo Reynard Rhett Rhys  Ricardo Richard Richie Richmond Rick Ricky Rico Ridge  Riley Rio Riordan River Robert Roberto Robbie Rocco Rocky  Rodney Rodrigo Roger Ricky Riley Rod Rodrick Roger Roland  Roman Romeo Ross Rowan Rudy Rufus Russell Ryder Ryker Rylan Ryland 

Salem  Salvador  Salvator Sam  Samir Sampson Samson  Samuel Sander Sandford Sanjay  Santiago Saul Sawyer Scott Sean Sebastian  Septimus Serge Sergio Seth Seus Seymour Shane  Shawn Shayne Sheldon Shepherd Sherlock Sherman Shin Sidney  Sigmund Silas Silver Silvester Simon Sinclair Sinjin Sirius  Slade Slate Sol Solomon Sonny Sparrow Spartacus Spencer Spike  Soren Stan Stanford Stanley Steele Stephen Steven Stevie Stone Sven Summit  Sullivan Sully Sylvester

Tad  Tag Talon  Tanner Tate  Ted Teddy Teo Teodor  Teodoro Terence Terrell  Terry Tex Thad Thaddeus Thane  Thatcher Theo Theoden Theodore Thomas  Thor Thorn Tiberius Tiger Tito Titus Timothy  Titus Tobias Toby Tommy Tony Topher Trace Travis  Trent Trenton Trev Trevor Trey Tristan Troy Truman Tucker  Tudor Tullio Tullius Tully Tycho Tyler Tyrell Tyrese Tyrone  Tyson

Uberto  Ulric Ulrich  Ulysses Uriah Urban Urijah  Uriel

Van  Vance  Vaugn Victor  Vince Vincenco Vincent  Vinny Virgil Vlad Vladimir 

Wade  Walden  Waldo Walker  Wallace Wally Walt  Walter Warner Warren  Watson Waylon Wayne Wendall  Wesley Westley Weston Wilbert  Wilbur Wilder Wiley Wilfred Will William  Winston Wolf Wolfe Wolfgang Woodrow Wyatt 

Xander  Xavier Xavion  Xenon

Yael  Yahir York Yosef  Yousef Yusef

Zac  Zach Zachariah  Zacharias Zachary Zack  Zander Zane Zayden Zeke  Zeus Ziggy Zion Zoltan

[fundiesimsfamily]

Obituary Robert 'Bobby' Stephen Baker

We are very sad to announce the death of my dear husband, our father, grandfather and greatgrandfather

Robert 'Bobby' Stephen Baker

In the age of 68 years

Evy Baker

Johanna&Obed, Everly&Hunter, Hunter, Hannah, Erin, Estelle, Erica

Janine&Christoffer, Charles, Simon, Rachel, Benjamin, Elisabeth, Andrew, Richard, Anna, Rosalie, Odette, Celeste

Joseph&Olivia, Josiah, Kendra, Samantha

Juanna&Denver, Abby, Beau, Christina, Elianna, Fiona, Gabriel

James&Madison, James, Maddox, Manuel

Jadyn&Juls, Emma, Judah, Martin

Joelle&Samuel, Sam, Rebecca, Lydia, Hannah, Rafael, Daniel, Felicity, Israel, Harper, Archer

Jedidiah

Julie&Omar, Gloria, Marie, Irene, Tabita, Matthew, Julian, Alexa, Edward

Jackson&Luna, Addison, Jackson, Carver, Theodore

Jenelle&Jax, Heather, August, Lincoln

Jocelyne&Lukas, Luuk, Joice, Pascal, Jordan

Jonathan&Mia, Jonah, Phyllis, Lilian

Jessica&Franklin, Paris, Cassidy

[thecockerelinn]

Well, even though quarantine and lockdown may slowly open up for many of us, it’s not over yet, and besides one can never have enough means to escape reality, so here are a few book reccomendations.

All books on this list are LGBTQ or at least have (important) characters who are.

The “Classics”:

Wraeththu  - Storm Constantine (how is it no-one’s talking about this anymore? Please do take into account that those books were written in the early 1990s, they were way ahead of their times, and yet there may be some offensive things - it’s been a while that I’ve read them so I can’t come up with any example, but should you find them somewhat un-feminist, wait until the end xD)

The Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin (a true classic)

The Last Herald Mage series - Mercedes Lackey (gee yes Vanyel can be a real brat - not quite without reason though, but you’ll come to love him xD And yes we all just pretend that scene in book 3 never happened -_-) (also: influenced the Nightrunner series)

The World of Riverside series - Ellen Kushner (another influence on the Nightrunner series)

The Doctrine of Labyrinths quartet - Sarah Monette (beware, those books are not for everyone, trigger warnings are in order: rape, violence, mental issues, abuse / none of this is ever glorified or belittled, but it’s there, and it is so much a part of the characters’ lifes that it might occasionally seem like it’s not appropriately treated. Speaking of characters: very complex, intriguing characters with very dark sides, but you gotta love ‘em; intricate, complex world building / Nowadays Sarah Monette writes under the pseudonym Katherine Addison) (as far as I know they are unfortunately out of print so you’d have to check second hand book stores)

Historical fiction (with or without the paranormal)

Whyborne and Griffin series - Jordan L. Hawk (lots of paranormal stuff, magic, Lovecraftian creatures, awesome ladies, and so much more - and you will love those boys so much xD)

Magic in Manhattan - Allie Therin (the Roaring 20s, magic, prohibition)

The Collin Pendragon Mysteries - Gregory Harris (imagine Sherlock Holmes and Watson were canon; whodunnit, Victorian England)

Restless Spirits - Jordan L. Hawk  (let’s go ghost hunting: science vs. medium)

A Charm of Magpies - K.J. Charles (magpies - lots of them xP, magic, curses, intrigue, late Victorian England)

At Swim, Two Boys - Jamie O’Neill (set in Dublin around the Easter Uprising 1916; coming-of-age, tragic love story - don’t forget the tissues)

Cambridge Fellows Mysteries - Charlie Cochrane (Edwardian England, mystery, romance; amateur sleuths, found family)

SFF

The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon (epic fantasy, intricate world building, clash of religions, dragons, strong female leads)

The Affair of the Mysterious Letter -  Alexis Hall (fantasy / mystery; Lovecraftian vibes, bizarre and witty retelling of Sherlock Holmes)

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards (alternative world, Atlantis, magic, god-like beings, found family; trigger warnings: mentions of rape, violence)

The Rifter series - Ginn Hale (fantasy, parallel world; god-like being, magic, religious strife, necromancy (in a way))

Iron Breakers trilogy - Zaya Feli (fantasy; intrigue, cultural differences, battles, fight for a kingdom, romance)

The Icefjord Saga - Zaya Feli (fantasy, Norse inspired world, magic, mythological creatures, battles, curses)

Tales from Verania - TJ Klune (fantasy, comedy, romance; hilariousness galore! - okay sometimes it’s a bit too much, but between all the jokes and sexual innuendoes, the story doesn’t suffer; basically everyone is gay, everyone tries to get into Sam’s trousers ^^;, did I mention the hornless gay unicorn that sweats glitter, and the sexually deviant dragon? xD)

Peter Darling - Austin Chant (fantasy, retelling; very interesting take on Peter Pan, takes place many years after the events in Peter Pan, focused on the relationship between Peter and Hook; the search for a place, for someone to accept you for who you really are)

YA and New Adult

Nevernight Chronicles - Jay Christoff  (sometimes I’m amazed what’s YA nowadays; fantasy; anyway beware of all the blood)

Feverwake duology - Victoria Lee (see above; dystopia; Holy Baby Yoda but these two books are intense! triger warnings: abuse, drug use, violence, mentions of rape, deadly virus outbreak)

Only Mostly Devastated - Sophie Gonzales (contemporary; all the feels: it makes you laugh out loud, it makes you cry; Grease says hello, super sweet quick read)

Timekeeper trilogy - Tara Sim (steampunk - or should it be clockwork punk?; mythology, gods, concept of time, ghosts, cute boys, discourse on colonialism)

The Torch Keeper trilogy - Steven dos Santos (dystopia; betrayal, love between brothers, biological modifications, deadly deadly trials)

Proxy duology - Alex London (dystopia; the rift between rich and poor, unjust society, technology)

The Disasters - M.K. England (sci-fi; band of misfits to the rescue!; Breakfast Club in space - kind of xD)

Magnus Chase & the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan (fantasy, mythology; ahhh Uncle Rick - just got to love the man, seriously; Norse mythology, diverse cast, homelesness, found family, disablitiy) (I’m aware it’s officially labelled Middle Grade, but who cares. It is linked to the Percy Jackson series, but you don’t need to know it to read these books)

The TBR pile (meaning books I haven’t read myself yet, but they certainly are on my tbr list, so perhaps they will be on yours now, too):

The Locked Tomb series - Tamsyn Muir  (fantasy)

The Bloodright trilogy - Emily Skrutskie  (sci-fi, YA)

Wild Sky - Zaya Feli (fantasy)

The Extraordinaries - TJ Klune (romance, superpowers - or not..., YA)

Reverie - Ryan La Sala (fantasy)

Soulbound series - Hailey Turner (urban fantasy, romance)

Cemetery Boys - Aiden Thomas (fantasy, paranormal, romance, YA)

Micah Grey series - Laura Lam (fantasy)

Specials:

A Song for Ghosts - Manja Siber (historical, mid 19th century Dresden) - Don your fanciest dress and fetch the binocular, it’s opera time! Originally inspired by The Phantom of the Opera and Yuri on Ice - see if you can spot the hints xD (as a fellow Watcher, Manja kind of makes the list by default* xP Give it a try, you can find it via epubli or on amazon.de)

*No, this isn’t nepotism, I’m just trying to give the support I wish I had. So if you’re an author and a Watcher and you’re not on this list, it’s because I don’t know about it. Tell me, and I gladly put your book on this or any next rec list.

[anniemurphy]

Now that all s2 remake storylines are pretty much almost done here’s a ranking :) (excluding Skam Spain since they followed the s3 og storyline, and I’ll rank that with the the other s3s later and Skam France because I didn’t watch it). 

Season 2 storyline ranking: 

1. DRUCK

2. WtFOCK

3. Skam NL and Skam Italia

4. Skam Austin

William: 

1. Alexander Hardenberg

2. Senne De Smet

3. Edoardo Incanti

4. Daniel Williamson

5. Noah Boom

Noora:

1. Mia Winter 

2. Liv Reijners

3. Zoë Loockx and Grace Olsen

4. Eleonora Sava

Eva:

1. Isa Keijser and Hanna Jung

2. Jana Ackermans

3. Eva Brighi

4. Megan Flores

Vilde: 

1. Engel and Kiki 

2. Kelsey Russell

3. Silvia Mirabella

4. Amber Snoeckx

Chris Berg

1. Sam M'Pelé

2. Janna Mertens and Josefina Valencia

3. Federica Cacciotti

4. Luca Lomans

Sana:

1. Amira Mahmood and Esra Aydin

2. Yasmina and Zoya Ali

3. Sana Allagui

Jonas Vasquez

1. Jonas Augustin

2. Giovanni Garau

3. Jens Stoffels

4. Kes de Beus

5. Marlon Frazier

Isak:

1. Matteo Florenzi

2. Lucas van Der Heijden

3. Shay Dixon

4. Martino Rametta

5. Robbe IJzermans

Eskild:

1. Hans Brecht

2. Ralph Hansen and Filippo Sava

3. Eve and Milan Hendrickx

Christoffer: 

1. Samuel Fischer

2. Federico Canegallo 

3. Jordan Diaz

4. Luka Lemmens and Gijs Hartveld

[one-track-daily]

PJS Lullaby (2019)

From the album: Ears (Kudatah)

[sirveltic]

.:R6S:. Sledge/Lynx/Mute

Boy this really has been a while! I’ve been working on this for a while and hopefully this is good! Also yes, Andrea is in a polyamorous relationship. Fight me I just can’t choose between Mute or Sledge F. Also I’m not a doctor so if something is wrong, do tell me!

Word Count: 10173

Pairing: Sledge/Lynx(OC)/Mute

Warnings: Descriptions of injury, tooth rotting fluff, swearing, mild medical procedures

It hadn't been until recently that Romania had allowed for their special forces to group with team Rainbow. With White Mask attacks being at an all time high around the world, they had seen no reason to lend some of their elite marksmen to some organization. Until now, when things were calmer, more manageable.

It had been almost a year since two members of the SIAS had joined Rainbow. Their personalities were almost complete opposites, yet, as they said, they were attached at the hip.

Andrea 'Lynx' Christoff and Sergei 'Iron Bull' Ralu. A medic and a therapist- just what Rainbow needed. Though recently their dorms had experienced a form of 'team exercise' ; forcing the two to shelter in the bunks of other units. Sergei had gone to bunk with a friend he had made, Gilles. The mountain of a man was a gentle giant- Sergei possibly had a crush on him, as Andrea liked to tease.

Meanwhile the woman had no other choice but to bunk with the unit closest to her dorms; the SAS. She held a neutral attitude to them; most of the time the boys wouldn't bother her and would only really strike conversation because of James, seeing as he was the most nosy. 'For blackmail,' he had once told Seamus, 'she could try to kill us.' Odd, how the most unpredictable man thought a medic would kill people faster than he would.

However scarce may be the moments where the Romanian would come out of her office; all creatures needed social interaction. She was no different. It got... lonely, sometimes. Without her old squadron bothering her to death and duct-aping her bag to the ceiling, how else was she going to get entertainment? Newspaper could only do so much.

Thus, she found herself at the bar in the lounge. It wasn't often she would be driven to alcohol- but, alas, cigarettes and drugs could only do so much. She was alone- most were either too wary of her to strike up conversation or simply didn't trust her enough to approach. She did pull a pistol on Marius once for coming in her office with a mere cut on his arm. She hadn't shot him, but did give him the scare of his life.

Andrea's dull eyes gazed down at the opaque brown liquid in the glass, her natural expression never changing. She was thinking- deep where she dreaded to go, bringing back thoughts she had never wanted to think of. Idly, she sipped at the whiskey, the small ice cubes clinking against the glass cup, breaking the silence if only for a short second. Lowering the drink from her lips and setting it back down on the wooden counter, Andrea sighed. If only she had Sergei talking to her right now- he'd probably be telling some story about his time as a therapist.

Once more, she lifted the glass up to her lips and drank the rest of the liquid, emptying the glass swiftly. She still could feel her thoughts creeping up on her. So, another shot she poured herself, the bottle now almost halfway gone.

A noise caught her attention. Footsteps, almost completely silent had she not been trained to hear subtle sounds. Instinctively, the Romanian looked over her shoulder and saw the youngest member of the SAS approach her. Mark R. Chandar- mostly known as Mute since he seems to never talk outside of situations. Even in situations he rarely talked, only doing so to state something to his team.

Andrea waved a hand at him as he sat down on the stool next to her. Though she wouldn't admit it, the Brit intrigued her. Always communicating in sign language, always looking calm yet being the most protected in his unit. Never seeming to falter his analytics. He truly was the prodigy his file called him out to be.

Speaking of Mark, he waved at her in return and gestured to the bottle of whiskey.

"Knock yourself out." She shrugged, back to her own glass, her own thoughts. She didn't even notice the man get up to walk behind the bar and get himself a glass.

No, she thought purely about the mission that had gone South of what was planned. What had supposed to been a simple bio hazard defusing had almost turned into a full on bloodbath on both sides of the fight.

Her team had barely made it out alive. Had it not been for her skills in field medicine, she was sure they would have all been dead. Monika sported a fractured arm, Elizabeth was in Gustave's care after a bullet to the side, Seamus was dealing with cracked ribs and Emmanuelle had shrapnel wounds from a frag grenade. Andrea? An agonizing hip and a bullet to the shoulder. Nothing compared to the pain of her team. Luckily they had managed to secure and defuse the container before anyone could actually die though the guilt of having missed her enemy sweep was ever so present. Strong enough that not even her marijuana could help her take her mind off of it.

They should have been safe- she should have been the one in emergency care, not Eliza. The Romanian sighed deeply at her thoughts and brought the glass to her lips one last time, tilting her head back to drink the alcohol all in one go. A terrible idea, really. This time, she slammed the empty glass back down on the wood counter and reached up to rub at her eyes with her palm. Ugh. She felt so tired already.

A small tap on her shoulder brought her attention back to the Brit who had returned back to his spot besides her. Despite remaining silent in even the toughest of situations, she could still read the concern he felt for her.

The man pointed at her then held his right hand out flat open, his other hand also flat open on top of his right, hitting the palm gently.

*Are you okay?*

'Course he had heard of what happened- it was a miracle if no one had. Mark was glad to have gotten to Andrea before Mike did. Old bastard would be yelling at the woman, demanding her to tell him who gave her the rights to let Seamus get wounded under her leadership. Baker always did view of the SAS unit as his boys, after all.

Andrea huffed and looked back down at the empty glass, now somewhat stained with the last drops of whiskey,

"I've been better." She answered flatly, sliding the empty glass next to the bottle of whiskey and sighing deeply through her nose. Her brows were furrowed, her head concentrated on trying to distract itself from many different things at once. It clearly wasn't working, Mark noticed, her right foot was shaking and she was tapping her fingers against the counter. She was hurting; physically and mentally.

Had James been here, Mark was sure that the Brit would have mocked her to the point of earning another broken nose. Seamus had probably already forgiven Andrea- she was the medic, after all, she knew more than he did. Plus, he was bedridden until the worst of his ribs went away- around a week or two.

Really, the only thing the operator could do was scoot closer to her and wrap and set a hand on her shoulder in comfort. That, and he also deemed that he would rather have her sober than drunk, if only because he feared how she would be when intoxicated.

Andrea rose a brow and looked over at him with a questioning look, yet didn't protest against the action. It wasn't Sergei holding her and rocking her back into the real world after a night terror, but it was a gesture she appreciated none the less.

"Thanks." Was all she said, letting the silence bask them once again. It was thick, almost like it could be cut through with a knife- but it was welcome. Neither of them were very talkative, she supposed. Mark never talked and she never wanted conversations to last longer than they should.

In the silence of the room they sat, drinking and not saying a word other than a few quick glances.

Sharing the building with the Americans was truly an experience, though.

Jordan was the first to barge in, in his usual outspoken self- Miles and Jack not too far behind him. The only American missing was Eliza. Andrea turned her head away from them, guilt once more taking her away from a peaceful mindset.

It was a solemn day for the affected units. She was sure Monika was being pampered by the Germans in their own dorms.

"Hey~" came the sing song voice from Jordan, who plopped down on a stool next to the Romanian, "There's the dream girl! Holding up alright?"

No answer.

"Tough crowd today, huh." He mumbled to himself, furrowing his brows. The FBI SWAT team had also been shaken by the information given to them about Eliza's condition. Who thought that the most careful person in the team ended up with the worst wound? Jordan turned to face the bar and reached to the back of his neck, scratching the area awkwardly whilst he watched Jack take place behind the bar. Mark gazed over at Andrea again, now more concerned. There was a hint of pity in his eyes; she was suffering. This time, more physically than mentally. Curtly, (and rather rudely, as Jordan had once commented) the Brit stood up and left the bar, walking out of the room in a brisk pace. This left her alone with the Americans.

Great.

The SIAS operator reached into her pocket and took out her phone, unlocking it and beginning to browse whatever sites she usually looked at. Jack (commonly known as 'Pulse') took this as a liberty to speak.

"Any news on Eliza?" He asked while pouring Jordan and Miles their drinks, gazing up at Andrea with an expectant glint in his eyes. Said woman sighed and rubbed her eyes once more, forcing the answer out,

"Her condition is stable but she still lost a lot of blood. We aren't allowing any visitors until we deem her okay. We're looking at about two weeks from now." She answered, Jordan's hiss almost making her leave in itself.

"Doesn't sound to stable to me."

"Then I will gladly give my job to you, Trace." The snap was almost instant, silencing the Texan instantly. At least, until he whistled and turned his attention back to his teammates. Definitely a tough crowd today.

"I'm sure no one's holding their knives at your throat, Christoff." Spoke Jack, now leaning on the counter with a bottle of beer in hand. Heineken. Gross.

"Not at the moment."

"The operation was a success- we all know what we sign up for when we joined our units. Be glad no one actually died." He said in hopes of comforting her. His only answer was a scoff from the woman. His other answer was her getting up and leaving the bar without a word, moving to sit on one of the beanbags at the other side of the room, secluded from the others. This time, Jordan held himself from commenting on it.

The door to the common room opened yet again with Mark having returned from wherever he went. This time, he held a bottle of water in hand and a pill in the other. His eyes briefly scanned the room for the Romanian after noticing she was no longer at the bar. Spotting her in the beanbag area, the Brit walked over to her in a more relaxed pace than before, moving one of the beanbags with his foot to be closer in front of her. Andrea looked up from her phone at him in confusion. That is, until he sat down in front of her and offered her the pill and bottle.

Ah. Her meds. She forgot about those. No wonder her hip felt like it was exploding. With a curt thanking, Andrea took the pill and water bottle from him, popping the pill in her mouth and washing it down with water, to which she closed the bottle afterwards and set it down next to her. Andrea gave him a nod to signal her gratitude and leaned back into the beanbag, taking out her phone. After that, she spent the rest of the hour browsing her phone- going from texting her sister to browsing sites so she could buy more components to her sonar captor device.

Mark, also deeming the worst of the current situation dealt with, made himself comfortable on his own beanbag and crossed his legs; also taking out his phone to browse what he usually looked at.

The next hour was relatively silent aside from the chatting at the bar, to which Andrea kept a close ear to. Who knew that the Americans had some of the best gossip in all of Rainbow? She did now. Then again, she knew most, if not everything about all the other operators and people on base. Such was her job as a medic, after all. Having info about everyone was essential to her job, as Gustave had once told her.

The Romanian kept her eyes mostly glued to the screen of her device, occasionally glancing up whenever a loud sound erupted from anywhere within the common room. Nothing too bad, she deducted, only the Americans sharing a few jokes to try and lighten up their moods with  Eliza being in emergency care. It must be hard to know that a close friend of theirs was gravely wounded and it was nothing they could do. Was this how Sergei had felt after finding Andrea out in Afghanistan, her hip blown to shreds and pissing blood? Maybe. Maybe not. Who was she to care?

Yet again she was snapped out of her thoughts with an oh so familiar voice calling her out.

"Oye! Where's that hag?" Ah, James. His insults could only ever mean affection, she had found out. The woman sighed and rolled her eyes; way to go, life. You've ruined another good moment of hers.

Speaking of the devil, here he comes now, having spotted her seconds after entering the room. What she had expected, however, turned out to not happen. James Porter, the man as unpredictable as time itself, let himself drop down comfortably on the beanbag next to Mark and kicked off his army grades boots to free his feet from the warm.

Gross, but typical.

Almost as if on cue, his loud voice tore through the silence like a starving lion,

"I'll give ya this, Christoff, you've managed ta piss off Mike like I've never seen 'im before." He mused, crossing his arms behind his head as he let out a relaxed, barely interested sigh. Andrea grunted and rolled her eyes,

"I can hear him yelling from a mile away, Porter." A snort emitted from the Brit,

"Aye. Ya really knocked 'im off 'is knickers with that stunt ya pulled."

"Don't. Remind me about it." Andrea hid her face in her hands and sighed deeply, yet again rubbing at her tired eyes. A tick she had developed over the years, she only did it when stressed. Very much like now. Though James' silence threw her off. She knew exactly what he had done to garner such a relaxed and not so bothered attitude.

"You told him where I was."

"Yep." Oh this was just great. She was about to have her ears pulled out because of the rotten snitch she called a colleague. This was absolutely how she wanted to calm down after a mission gone South.

Mark furrowed his brows and looked up from the screen of his phone, glancing between James and Andrea with worry. He knew how angry Mike actually was about that the mission had gone so sour- poor bastard had left the punching bag in the gym to bits and pieces. Last time Mark had seen him, the man was ranting about what he would do to Andrea if she 'showed her bloody fucking face' around him ever again.

Alas, her work morals didn't allow her to skip patients  because of threats and Seamus was in need of a checkup. From an actual doctor and not an old man who hates laser sights. Andrea stood up with a wince and stretched her muscles, stuffing her phone back in her pocket.

"Great." She mumbled a few incoherent words in Romanian and limped away as she would do. Her hip would only let her walk so much without limping. James craned his neck to watch her leave the room, an oh so satisfied smile on his face. With a chuckle, he made himself nice and comfortable on the beanbag and swung his legs on the bag Andrea had once been on. Only when he felt eyes stare into his soul did he dare to look at Mark; who looked none too pleased about him.

"The fuck are ya glarin' at me for? She's the one who fucked up 'Mus' ribs!" This time Mark only rolled his eyes and stood up to follow after the woman, his pace fast in order to catch up.

"You're not actually ditchin' me for a fuckin- MARK!" Ah, he knew James was the most social out of all the SAS unit. If there was no one to bother then he would no doubt find some poor recruits to almost smoke to death with his 'toxic babes'.  Porter was quick to leave his oh so comfortable spot to join up with the younger man, punching him in the shoulder as he did so.

"Ya fuckin' wanker. If Mike snaps on us yer fuckin' as good as dead, mate." He growled, only earning a huff from his teammate. As they caught up with the Romanian, Mark reached over and set a hand on her shoulder,  if only to let her know that she had his support in case Mike really did try to kill her. Andrea glanced over her shoulder briefly and blinked, turning her eyes back to the hallway in front of her. Her office (temporary) was a few feet away and the three reached it in a matter of seconds.

"You two stay outside." As James was about to protest, the scent of some strong marijuana hit both men directly in the nose, causing them both to cover their noses. Mark's eyes watered due to the chemicals so he made quick work to try and rub the tears away.

"Jesus Christ that's some strong shit." Said James, looking away to try and suck in a breath of fresh air. He definitely knew who his new drug dealer was going to be.

Now that she was alone, Andrea sighed deeply to allow her mind to clear up before she'd walk in the middle of the storm. Still, it wasn't like she could avoid Mike any longer. Sure she could sleep in her office chair, but she still needed to keep Seamus in top condition to make sure he healed effectively and quickly. The Romanian reached over to the coat rack and grabbed her white coat from the rack, sliding it on with ease. She was glad to be wearing her typical  gray t-shirt and camo pants. No need to change clothing. Before she walked over to her desk, however, she made her way over to the window and opened it wide to clear out the drug smelling air of the office. She'd need to disinfect everything the moment the Scotsman's checkup was done. Now standing next to her desk, the Romanian reached up and untied her auburn hair from the tight bun, tilting her head back to redo the bun more securely.

Now that she looked at her desk more closely, she saw something on her desk. A letter. Most likely from Six or her sister; Laura always did write at the most inconvenient times, she thought as she flipped the letter over to determine who it was from. Ah, Laura. She'll have to read it later when she had time. Andrea tore open the envelope and tossed it aside while briefly running her eyes over the words of the letter, she huffed and set the paper back on her desk for later, grabbing her stethoscope from the corner of her desk before she made her way out of her office and closed the door with her right hand. Surprisingly,  Mark was still there. James, however, had most likely left to either go back to the common room or to the examination to get ready for the show that was about to happen.

"Good to know you're on my side, Chandar." She commented, motioning for him to follow her. He was apart of the SAS, he had every right to be there for Seamus' checkup. Be it by luck or misfortune , the examination room nearest to her was only two doors away. Now in front of the door to the room, she took in a deep breath and turned the doorknob and opened the door, letting Mark enter first and closed the door behind her before speaking,

"Alright. Before we get to the results I-" before she could finish, a force slammed into her she felt herself get lifted up a few centimeters off the ground by the collar of her shirt with a voice booming in her disoriented ears.

"Who the bloody Hell do ya think you are?" Mike growled, keeping Andrea pinned to the door. Unfortunately for him, her experience in situations like these had trained her well.

"Giving your teammate a checkup-"

"After lettin' 'im fuckin' snap his ribs in half? You better have a good fuckin' excuse before I rip yer fuckin' throat out." Again, more threats he wouldn't be able to keep.

"Mister Baker, I don't have time for your aggression.  Unhand me this instance or I will be forced to-"

"I'm waiting, Christoff." Damn him for being her superior. The Romanian glared at him and grasped his wrists tightly in an attempt to let him go. No use, he had an iron grip on her. Soon enough, the both of them had entered a pretty heated argument with Mark trying his hardest to actually separate them. Seamus, hunched over, looked over at James with pain in his eyes.

"Not gonnae stop 'em?" James pursed his lips and shook his head, looking more than entertained.

"Nah. This is gettin' good." He spoke lowly, his eyes never leaving the chaos in front of him that he, for once, hadn't started.

"OI! Leave the poor lass alone! Was'n'ike she could've seen what'dve fuckin' happen'!"

Finally, after what seemed to be forever, Mike let go of the medic after some thorough coaxing from the mute and the Scot's words. Mike's glare never left Andrea, even as she walked to approach their injured teammate. Mike always did treat the SAS as his boys, as funny as he tried to deny the fact.

"Yer on thin fuckin' ice, Christoff." Andrea looked over at Seamus with a cringe and rolled her shoulder, hoping that her wound hadn't been irritated.

"That bad, huh?" No answer. Once a few short seconds passed, she spoke up again,

"As I was saying, Agent Cowden I'll need to test a few things before going over the results with you." She explained, walking over to the counter running the water.

First, she washed her hands in the sink for extra measures. Despite not being too keen on her job, she was going to do it right. All the while she was drying her hands and putting on the medical gloves, she spoke up.

"Has anything felt out of place or have you been feeling any effects from the ribs?" She asked, now standing in front of Seamus.

"Agent Porter please get off of the examination table so I can proceed with the checkup." As expected,  he merely leaned back.

"Agent Porter." A few more seconds of a strong glare made James scoff and slid off the table. The woman made no motion to thank him, turning her attention back to Seamus.

"I'll keep it brief this time. Have you felt anything else other than pain? Nausea, headaches?" She asked, glancing up at him while setting a hand on the back of his shoulder to keep his back straight all the while applying pressure to his chest.

Oh, Seamus was in absolute agony. He practically forced himself to talk.

"Naye. Just some- FUCKIN'-" he took a deep breath, "- agony when I breathe." His accent got thicker,  she noticed, as a response to big amounts of pain.  Mike, though he wanted to act, knew better than to disturb a doctor from their work. Andrea gave a nod, pressing her index and middle finger to a more specific area right below his rib cage. Another hiss of pain. Most likely some bruising of something of the sort.

"Alright, lift up your shirt, Cowden. One of your teammates may help you if you find it too painful." She informed him, helping him lift up his shirt over his chest. Had she not seen worse, she would have winced at the bruising seen on his chest. It would take a long while to recover. Mike now jumped in to help, telling Seamus that he'd keep the shirt up for him. Once Andrea got her hands to the bruised flesh, the boys let the shirt fall back down to hide her gloved hands.

Blocking out the rest of the conversation between Mike, James and Mark, Andrea once again instructed the Scotsman what to do,

"Alright, I need you to take deep and calm breaths as best as you can." She said as she took the stethoscope from around her neck to put the ear tips in her ears. Once the ear tips were adjusted and the diaphragm was set to go, Andrea pressed the cold metal against his bruised skin, earning a hiss of both pain and discomfort. Looking over at Mike  briefly, she gave him a nod and let him lower the shirt back down.

"Deep breaths, Cowden." She was glad the man followed her instructions as best as he could. His breathing was limited, almost like it was blocked by his reflex. Wheezing and wincing, he would be needing more than just six weeks to fully heal.

What made her frown was the slight vibration when he breathed. That was concerning. Moving the diaphragm up his other pectoral, she spoke up,

"Deep breaths, Agent Cowden." His chest rattled with painful laughter.

"I'm tryin'." The Romanian only hummed and went back to her silent self, listening more closely. The rattling consisted here too. Definitely concerning. Now, she moved to his back to give him as much relief from the pain as possible. She did the same thing she had done to his chest, listening carefully (probably taking much more time than needed) in order to make a proper diagnosis. After a moment, she stood straight again and took the ear tips out of her ears, sliding the chest piece out of his shirt and setting the stethoscope back around her shoulders.

"So, your problems breathing indicate that you're in great deals of pain- obviously. There was some rattling in your chest and it may be something like a developing cold though you'll need to go to Doctor Kateb to get it confirmed." She paused, making sure he was listening to all of the information. All four of them were.

"Otherwise I'll give you some Acetaminophen to lessen the pain for a few hours. You'll need to go to Kateb again since until I can go back to my building, I won't have the medicine needed."

"How long 'til 'es back on the field?" Andrea hummed, furrowing her brows as she examined the group more closely.

"Judging by the severity of the ribs, I'm estimating between six to eight weeks before he'll have healed enough to ease back into training. That is, if he doesn't go against my instructions and trains while he's still wounded." Mark visibly winced at that, feeling a pang of pity in his heart for the breacher. Six to eight weeks of nothing but rest and pain. It absolutely would not be a good time for Seamus, he could tell.

"The Acetaminophen should help cope with the pain, though doing any physical activity will make it worse. Your best bet is to spend the first week or so in bed to give time for the bruises to start fading away and for the tears in the thorax to begin healing. Keep movement at a minimum and everything should go as planned." She explained, crossing her arms. Fuck, how she wished she had a cane. Seamus felt the need to speak up this time;

"So ye wan'me ta stae in me bed fer weeks wi' nuthin ta do?" He asked, back in his hunched over position. Fuck, everything hurt. Andrea nodded,

"I don't want you to. You have to if you want a swift recovery. I'll need one of your colleagues to deliver you meals every day and you can only get up to go to the bathroom or to go visit Doctor Kateb for the info and prescription." Tensions were still high in the room, making her feel somewhat awkward for not being able to do more to help, what with the limited equipment she had here. This wasn't a hospital, this was just as close as they could get to a hospital inside a building. No one there were only two separate buildings for the operators to dorm in.

Finally, Seamus accepted his fate with a low wheeze of a sigh. No need to fight nature, he was sure he could go right back to normal after those few weeks. He stood up from the examination table with a grunt and cringed when a surge of pain shot up his chest. Had Mike not been there, he definitely would have fallen to the ground and aggravated his ribs further. Mike frowned,

"No support whatsoever?"

"Putting braces would only hinder his recovery by limiting his breathing further," she informed, walking over to the trashcan next to the door, her foot pressing on the piston to lift the lid up, to which she threw the gloves in the bin and made her way back to the sink, "Which can and will lead him to developing Bronchitis or Pneumonia. We don't want that to happen." She said flatly, drying her hands on some paper towels, to which she threw them in the bin once she was done.

"Now, you four need to leave and bring Agent Cowden back to his bed so he can begin resting." James almost instantly took a step back in a bail from the responsibility. Of course he didn't want to be burdened with taking care of a 6'3 Scotsman. Mark now stood next to his teammate and slung his arm around his shoulder, offering Seamus extra support. Never mind that the breacher was in literal agony. Andrea watched them as they all left to go take care of the Scotsman, a sigh leaving once James closed the door. Good. Peace and quiet for hopefully longer than before so she could focus on her work. That she had to do back in her office.

Not as bad as she expected her day to go, honestly.

The Romanian quickly left the examination room, a hand rubbing at her aching hip. If only the medicine Gustave gave her actually worked properly, then she wouldn't be so slow and considered a speed level one. Then again, she did also wear a lot of gear so it was only fair she was slow on the field.

Her steps were quick to get her to her office, to which she grasped the doorknob and turned it to allow herself in. Alright, the smell of drugs was more faint now but still noticeable. Oh well, the only thing she could get in trouble for was smoking in her office. Nothing she should actually worry about. Walking over to behind her desk, she pulled her chair back and sat down on it with a huff, pulling out her phone and tossing it on the wooden desk, next to an empty coffee mug and some newspaper. Yes, she still read the newspaper. Leaning back in the chair for a moment to take a deep breath, Andrea sat back up with her back straight and muscles aching. Moving herself and the chair forwards, she pulled out a few papers from the drawer built next to the desk and began reading through them. Now to see who was in need of a quick checkup and who had already been covered by Gustave. Might as well text him to see if he had the list of those he was covering and those that had already been taken  care of by the other on base medics. Grabbing her phone  and unlocking it, Andrea selected the French man's number and texted him,

.: I'm looking at the files for my building and I need to know who hasn't been covered yet. Let me know when you're available.:.

With that, she put the phone on vibrate and slid it back to its previous spot, setting the files aside to take care of reports. There wasn't an awful lot she could do as a medic and God knows her hip was not going to let her move much for the next hours or so before she would need to get some food and maybe get a cup of coffee to skip sleep.  Andrea read through the words quickly, setting aside those she deemed to be priority- such as health updates on the ones that had been on her team or recently came back from situations. Speaking of situations, Maxim and his team were supposed to be back sometime tomorrow and she had heard that they all had some sort of wound that needed to be patched up more carefully.

As she kept herself focused on the papers in front of her, half of her mind drifted off into her thoughts once more- this time all related to her schedule for tomorrow. Alright, so, the helicopter would arrive at around ten in the morning, an hour after breakfast was done. Then, she thought, she would need to call over Maxim and his team so she could give them a look over and patch any wounds that wouldn't be too threatening. If there was an emergency to be taken care of, then she would do so to the best of her ability and limited tools. Has she mentioned how much she hated being in this building? Well, now she has.

The medic set down the papers and checked her phone for a reply- nothing. He was probably busy or forgot to turn his phone off of silent. Maybe he was fucking his wife- who knew. Andrea couldn't care less about what he was doing so long as it was related to paperwork-  the thing she despised with all of her heart. The thing she was doing right now.

Had she always been doomed to suffer in a chair, writing all day and dealing with morons?

The operator frowned and shook her head with a sigh, turning her gaze to the radio next to her. It was old, out of date and didn't work that well- but it had been her father's old radio and she'd be damned if she ever got rid of it. Pressing a button at the side to turn it on, she fiddled around with the antennas for a moment before rotating the widget to try and find a channel. Soon enough, she landed on a news station. Eh, better than nothing.

With some background noise active,  Andrea grabbed the ashtray at the edge of the desk and brought it closer to her, reaching in her back pockets to grab a lighter and a box of cigarettes. Once the box was open, she bounced it a little to get  the butt of a cigar poke out, to which she promptly grabbed and placed in between her lips while she closed the cigar box and put it back in her pocket. Now grabbing the lighter, her experience allowed her to almost instantly ignite the tobacco, setting the lighter aside after she had taken a puff to get it started.

Oh, that felt good. The rush of  smoke leaving her lungs through her nose, making her feel alive even though she very well knew that she was slowly killing herself. There. Now that she was ready, she might as well work on these reports to get them over with as quickly as possible. She leaned forwards, taking a pencil in hand to start her work, while listening to the radio and also smoking- talk about multitasking.

Caught up in her thoughts and demise, Andrea hadn't even noticed the fact that almost two hours had gone by and that she was currently missing lunch. Huh. No wonder her stomach growled once in a while.

Mark, on the other hand, had noticed the Romanian's absence from the mess hall and had made sure to get both himself and her something to eat. Looks like the SAS needed to be skipped today so the medic wouldn't skip a meal and end up more of a bitch than usual. Not that he would actively call her a bitch, but everyone thought it and he had to admit, Andrea was a bitch sometimes. Balancing the tray with both plates in his hand, Mark rapped his knuckles on the door, knocking in order to ask a wordless question. No more than second later, an oh so familiar voice rang out,

"Come in." Ah, so she was allowing people to walk in after the confrontation she had with Mike earlier. Good to know. The Brit didn't miss a second either, entering the office (now devoid of weed, but filled with a smokey smell) only to find the Romanian in the process of smoking a cigarette. Wasn't she supposed to be the health nut here? At least the window was open wide. Mark scrunched his nose yet joined her at her desk, moving one of the chairs to be diagonal of her, to which he sat down after placing the tray on a free spot on the desk.

Andrea, getting the cue, worked quickly to clear up her desk space. By that I mean she just moved everything to the side and  let a few things fall. Oh well, she would pick them up later.

"Thank you, Chandar." She hummed, almost feeling a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. But it would take a hell of a lot more to get her to smile, that she would make sure of. The Brit only offered her a friendly smile and took his own plate of food. Nothing too fancy, he had what was usually served on this day; a healthy amount of everything that was good.   Not restaurant quality, but it was better than military food. Poor people had to eat from  bags when they were deployed. No doubt Andrea had already done that before.

With the two once again plunging into silence in order to eat, Mark listened closely to the radio on her desk. It was somewhat old, it would static every once in a while and would stutter if the antennas moved even a smallest bit. He wondered why the Romanian didn't want to replace it with something more modern, that worked better. Plus, he couldn't understand the language being spoken- though he assumed it to be Romanian. Maybe a news channel  of some sorts, she seemed like the type of person to listen to that instead of music.

"Is Baker calm now?" The sudden question took him by surprise, as he had been about to take a bite. Lowering the fork and closing his mouth, the man began to gesture with his hands once more,

'A little more than before now that Seamus ate and went to bed.' Good, that was good. Maybe he would be easier to deal with tomorrow morning, when Maxim was supposed to come back. Andrea nodded at the information and took another bite of the food, her brows furrowed. Just how much could she think about bad things in a day? Even when she had been stranded in Afghanistan with her shredded hip bone poking out of her flesh she hadn't been able to think as much as she was now.  Eugh. Just thinking about that day made her scar ache even worse. Damn chronic pain and damn her memory for triggering phantom pains too. Now all of her scars hurt like the devil.

Soft tapping on the desk caught her attention- Mark was signing to her.

'How are your wounds?' He paused to allow her to answer. The woman glanced at him and then at her bandaged shoulder which had been covered  by the white coat for some time now.

"There's just an ache left. I'll be back to normal by the beginning of next week." While maybe the bullet wound wouldn't have  completely healed,  it was deemed safe enough to go back to usual training. Plus, it's not like she always followed the instructions she would give to patients. Talk about hypocrisy.

Mark frowned and turned his brown eyes over to his food, awkwardly going back to working on finishing his plate. Well. This had just gone awkward rather fast. The curse of being as antisocial as he was. Woe was him.

Soft vibrating caught his distracted self, his attention locking onto Andrea's phone; which she had picked up and opened. Andrea raised her brows; huh, Gustave had finally replied.

.:The GIGN, GSG-9 and CBRN have been covered by me. Mégane and Jackson are taking care of the recruits and you have the SAS, Spetsnaz, FBI and the newest Australian recruits.:.

.:Alright, I'll see to it. When do the SASR get here?:.

.:In a month from now.:.

.:Understood. Thank you, doctor Kateb.:.

.:Pas de problème.:. Andrea set her phone back down after the last text, closing it and now fully focusing on the food in front of her and the company besides her. She held back the urge to sigh. So many things to think about, so little time to ensure they were done.

This was going to be a tough month, she was sure about that. Not only that, it was her turn to count the supplies at the end of the week and that meant an extra hour to her shift if everything went smoothly.

With time passing by quickly and lunch being over, Mark supposed he would take his leave now that Andrea seemed to be focusing more on her work than him. Typical. Saying no other words, the Brit grabbed both empty plates and stood up, walking over to the door. Before he left, he sent one last glance over his shoulder, brows furrowed in concern. All he saw was the woman wasting her short life at the desk.

When would she see past her mistakes?

A click of the door signaled his departure.

Long after she had begun her work, Andrea glanced up at the clock over the door. Hm. She supposed she could take a break. The woman sighed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing the back of her aching neck. Oh, she really needed a better chair. Maybe one that didn't feel stiff despite being made of leather. With a grunt, she leaned forwards and turned off the radio, picked up her phone and stood up, putting it in her back pocket. She resisted the urge to run a hand through her hair, in fright of disturbing it from the tight bun it sat in. The Romanian left her desk and walked over to door, her hand stopping just short of actually grabbing the doorknob. Her brows furrowed. And where would she go? Where could she be at peace from knowing that she had almost cost someone's life?

With a sigh, she opened the door and left, closing the door behind her and walking down the hall with the intent to leave the building to seek out the comfort of a close friend.

The outside wasn't much more peaceful either. The air cold, the sky gray and the surroundings humid, threatening for rain to start. Andrea's gaze left the sky and went back down to the asphalt road, sliding her hands in the pockets of her doctor's coat.

Luckily, the building was only a ten minute walk from hers, so she had gotten there in a matter of moments. She had also been left alone to her thoughts, left to lament in the knowledge of her recklessness.

After checking herself in, she rushed to the office of the one man who had been through hell and back with her.

Sergei. Her savior, really. The medic made her way up the stairs quickly, soon arriving to the floor his office resided in. There was an ache in her hip, annoying at best, frustrating at worst.

Finally, she stopped in front of  her teammate's temporary office. She had gone around ten minutes of a walk to get here, the ache in her hip ever so present. As she stopped in front of the door, Andrea paused, her hand on the handle. What could Sergei do about her lament other than tell her that it hadn't been her fault when it very much was a lie? With a sigh, she twisted the handle and pushed open the door, running a hand through her messy hair.

Sergei looked up from his clipboard, startled that someone had walked in without an appointment. This was supposed to be his break, dammit.

"Andrea. You're back." He hummed, watching her carefully with his honey colored eyes as she trudged over to the couch and let herself drop on it, now taking up all of the space. Hm. She definitely wasn't airing too well. The woman hid her face in a pillow on the couch.

"You don't usually act like a child." He commented. A muffled moan was his reply. Sergei rose a brow, idly petting the cat on his lap with a hand.

"What's this about?" This time, Andrea lifted her head up,

"Take a wild fucking guess."

"We've talked about the language, Andrea." Said woman only grumbled and pressed her head back into the pillow. The ex-therapist leaned back against his chair and sighed deeply, bringing his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Though after a moment, his brows knotted in concern. Oh, who was he to be mad at Andrea?

"Dea, you know that not telling me what the problem is isn't a good idea." He spoke softly- never having been one to raise his voice out of anger. Not even when he had caught his ex-wife cheating on him with a lawyer.  He was much too soft to show anger for more than a few moments.

Andrea sighed deeply and sat up, crossing her legs and looking down at the floor.

"There's nothing you could do to help me, Ralu. You and I both know that."

"That's what you told me back in Afghanistan. But look at where you are now, Andrea. Thinking that all things are impossible is simply not true." He paused,  the hand petting his cat also coming to a halt, making the Maine Coon chirp and look up in confusion.

"You're too close minded for your own good, Christoff. Every small mistake you do, you act as if it was the worst thing in the world. When was the last time you've had a good night of rest?"

Andrea paused.

"As I thought. Andrea, I'm speaking as a friend, " Sergei paused, standing up from his chair once he set the cat on the floor. He walked to the woman and sat down next to her, setting a hand of his on her back.

"You have to forgive yourself if you want to live." His voice was soft, worried. He knew the extent of how she could get if she delved too deep in her regrets. Andrea looked down at her hands, her eyes trailing the scars from her deployment. It was as if she could never escape the never ending loop playing inside her. Sergei's grip on her shoulder tightened.

He couldn't let her lose another hip.

It took no further coaxing for the operator to suddenly stand up and leave the room, exit the building and make the walk back to her temporary abode.

-/------\-

By the time it was night time, Andrea had already burned through all of her work and skipped supper.

Throwing the wrapper of the granola bar in the trashcan next to the door, she shrugged off her white coat and hung it on the coat hanger while opening the door, closing the lights before locking the door and walking off to the SAS dorms. It was early (in her standards) to be going to sleep, but so long as she went in before Mike did, she would escape a death glare and that was all that mattered.

Luckily for her, the dorms weren't too far from her office and allowed for her to arrive to her destination fairly quickly. Andrea ran a hand through her hair and wrapped a hand around the doorknob, twisting it in order to push open the door effortlessly.

Immediately, she was greeted with the loud snoring of none other than Seamus. Not to mention that the covers were halfway on the floor and that he hadn't touched the painkillers at all. Or even turned off the lamp. The medic sighed tiredly through her nose and walked over to the side of the man's bed, picking up the blankets and laying them down on him so she wouldn't have to stare at him half naked.

Not that she hadn't seen him naked before. Both sexually and professionally. Many would be surprised about the amount of people in Rainbow she had seen naked in order to do a medical exam.

Andrea shook those thoughts out of her head and looked back down at Seamus, inspecting him.

Once she made sure that he wouldn't kick off the blankets again, Andrea turned around and undid her belt, sliding it out of the loops with relative ease. Setting the leather belt aside on the nightstand, she reached up and pulled off her hair tie, allowing for her auburn red hair to fall loose on her shoulders. Tossing the tie away, the soldier walked over to the joint bathroom of the dorms and closed the door behind her. Man, she really needed a warm shower after a day like this.

Playing around with the shower for the right heat took some time, but eventually she found the perfect temperature and undressed, tossing all of her clothing into the nearby hamper and entering the shower, pulling the curtains to hide her naked form in case anyone came in unannounced.

Feeling every single water droplet drip down the crevasses of her scars felt weird, yet held a sense of familiarity to it.

She hated that.

Andrea tilted her head back and closed her eyes, relaxing within the steamy shower.

Around ten minutes or so, she turned off the water and pushed the curtain aside, stepping out and grabbing a towel to immediately wrap around herself. Taking in one last breath of the refreshing steam, Andrea exited the bathroom back into the shared bedroom, closing the light and door as she exited the room.

"Well aren't ye a sight for sore eyes." Hummed a thick accented voice, causing for her gaze to snap towards the source of the voice.

Ah, looks like Seamus had woken up. He must have heard her when she turned on the water from the shower.

"You should be resting, Cowden." She told him flatly, making her way over to her dresser to pick out some pajamas. Seamus merely whistled as he watched her pass by, mumbling curses while he sat up to get a better view of her (albeit covered) naked form. Ugh, men, is she right?

"Ah've done all me restin', lass." While not entirely true, he did get plenty of rest for the day and even if the pain he felt was absolutely agonizing, he could very well say that he had gone through worse in the past. Being an ex rugby player did come with its fair share of injuries, including past concussions. Andrea glanced over her shoulder with a blank face and a raised brow. She didn't believe him one bit. Turning back around so her back faced the breacher, she let go of the towel wrapped around her, letting it fall to her feet. Now, she was truly naked.

A wolf whistle was all she needed to hear to know that Seamus was enjoying the view. Such a sound made Andrea scoff and shake her head in an emotion he couldn't seem to detect.

"You're so immature."

"Cannae help it, lass."

"You've seen this all before. There's nothing to admire."

"There is if ye look hard 'nuff." Was everything sex related the only thing on the Scotsman's mind when it came to seeing her naked? She swore he gave her the same comment each time she would undress in front of him.

The Romanian put on her underwear and a shirt just the perfect size for her and turned back around, picking up the towel and throwing it to the other side of the room. Who cared if it was right next to the door? She was far too lazy to walk back into the bathroom.

Just as she was about to walk over to her bed, she felt a strong pair of hands grab her by the back of her shirt and pull her on top of their host. A small grunt escaped the soldier as she fell back against a body, barely having time to process it all before she was trapped on a bed, encased by a strong pair of arms with equally as strong man holding on to her.

"Cowden, you're only slowing down your recovery."

"Mmhm."

"Cowden. Let go."

"No." The denial was further enforced with a kiss to the crook of her neck.

"Seamus, I'm serious."

"So am I."

"You need your rest."

"Ye haven' slept in three days, Drea. Spoil an ol' soul like me jus' fer once?" Surprisingly, it was hard for her to resist Seamus when he used her own bad habits against herself.  However, she was as stubborn as a mule; as the others would say.

"No. Let me go, Seamus." The arms around her didn't budge despite her hearing his somewhat labored breathing. He was hurting, understandably so. Dammit.

Fucking hell, why did she have to be with the one person who made her regret her actions more than anything? She'd thought that she could just walk in and sleep on Mark's bed for the while Seamus was healing. But no. Life didn't want to give her a break.

"Fucking- I said let me go before I try to struggle out of your arms." Her tone was becoming strict; a hint of desperation lacing itself in it.

The same tone she had used while talking to Eliza's suffering body. Seamus again only grunted in reply, his grip tightening. Still, she began gently trying to pry his arms off of her, to no avail.

"Kintsugi." His voice tore through the stiff silence, making the attacker in his arms freeze. "Fixin' pott'ry wit' gold. Could apply tae ye too, 'Dea. Always gettin' banged up, blaemin' yesel' an' only makin' your situation worse Eliza's stable, no?"

"Barely. Eliza almost died, Monika is out of field for the next week as you are, Emannuelle had to get a blood transfusion and you are--"

"Fine. I'm fine. Nuthin' more than a few broken bones." Andrea, finding that his grip had loosened, sat up with the use of her arms as support.

"Seamus, you're on fucking bed rest for the next six weeks! Those are vital bones-- do you have any idea what could have happened if-" Again, the strong pair of arms pulled her back down on the bed effortlessly. This time, Seamus buried his face in the crook of her neck; the part that held all the scars from previous fights.

"Ye can't keep fightin' fights on yer own all the time. C'mon. Lae down for a moment an' stay wit me for the night. spoil a man some, why don't ye?" Andrea frowned and sighed, relaxing her muscles. Oh, to hell with everything.

"You're insufferable." She muttered under her breath, shifting around so she was facing his broad chest. Her only reply was the grip on her tightening protectively.

"Aye. Ye still lov' me though." He hummed, leaning down to place a soft, loving kiss to the woman's lips. He didn't mind the way the scars along her jawline sometimes cut through her otherwise soft lips, he never did. Yet Andrea continued to believe that her scars made him pity her.

Breaking off the kiss, Seamus placed his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes, his muscles loosening.

It wasn't long before the medic felt her eyelids grow heavy. No matter how much she tried to fight the drowsiness, they would simply droop back down for a few seconds before she forced them open again. Alas, she had never been good at fighting off sleep for longer than three days.

All it took was a simple kiss to the top of her head and she was out like a light, falling in a sleep deeper than any of her other slumbers before. Seamus too, soon joined her in her slumber.

Mark was startled, to say the least, when he walked in the dorms and found Seamus and Andrea cuddling on the same bed. He wasn't startled that the woman was in Seamus' arms, no, but rather that somehow she had been coaxed to even be near his bed at all. Shaking his head in amusement, the young adult went in for a short shower and came back out within five minutes, drying his hair with a spare towel before getting dressed in his usual pajamas.

It was late at night, no way was he going to stay awake any longer. The defender carefully squeezed himself on the shared bed on the other side of where Andrea lay, officially putting her in the middle of this cuddle sandwich. Sliding under the covers, Mark rolled over on his side to face the two sleeping people and wrapped an arm around the Romanian's waist, pulling himself closer. Hm, looks like Andrea forgot to turn off the lamp too. Reaching over, the Brit pulled on the short cord and laid back down once the room was engulfed in darkness, sighing deeply through his nose as his eyes closed.

The man leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, keeping his face pressed up against her bare skin, inhaling the sweet scent of the soap and shampoo she had as a guilty pleasure.

The smell of cinnamon sure was strong.

Mark settled his head back on one of the two pillows of the bed, shifting back into his thought for the last time of the day.

Tomorrow was another day, it could be boring or it could be filled with the best or worst things to ever happen in the world. They could be deployed all three at the same time or maybe even die. He could return to base all alone with no lover to greet him ever again.

But worrying on such things took too much energy out of him, made him feel more exhausted than he already was. Sure, he could stay with Andrea all day long, but Seamus also needed to be taken care of.

Exhaling deeply through his nose once again, Mark furrowed his brows and shifted closer to the woman, his muscles tightening ever so slightly.

Maybe tomorrow he could finally get her to eat with the others in the mess hall instead of the office. At least she allowed for him to stay this time!

It was a slow step towards recovery, but it was one he was going to welcome.

The Brit opened his eyes upon feeling the person in his arms roll over to rest on her back. In the midst of the dark night, his tired eyes only managed to capture the shadow of her form lay still once more, aside from the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Finally, he closes his eyes for good and sauntered off to sleep for some peace in quiet.

As strange as his life may be, he would never exchange it for anything else.

[fxdevxbes-blog]

[goalhofer]

2023-24 Henderson Silver Knights Roster

Wingers

#4 Mason Geertsen (Drayton Valley, Alberta)*

#13 Jakub Demek (Košice, Slovakia)**

#24 Adam Cracknell (Prince Albert, Saskatchewan) A

#42 Alex Swetlikoff (Kelowna, British Columbia)**

#53 Simon Pinard (Drummondville, Quebec)**

#54 Grigori Denisenko (Novosibirsk, Russia)*

#67 Tyler Benson (Edmonton, Alberta)*

#72 Gage Quinney (Las Vegas, Nevada)

#83 Daniel D'Amato (Vaughan, Ontario)

Centers

#11 Mason Morelli (Minot, North Dakota)*

#12 Jakub Brabenec (Brno, Czech Republic)**

#19 Brendan Brisson (Manhattan Beach, California)

#57 Mason Primeau (Owen Sound, Ontario) A

#73 Matt Boudens (Pembroke, Ontario)

#91 Jett Jones (Olds, Alberta)**

Defensemen

#5 Daniil Chayka (Moscow, Russia)

#15 Christoffer Sedoff (Helsinki, Finland)**

#40 Lukas Cormier (Kent County, New Brunswick)

#41 Brandon Hickey (Leduc, Alberta)

#44 Layton Ahac (North Vancouver, British Columbia)

#45 Jake Bischoff (Grand Rapids, Minnesota) C

#62 Daniil Miromanov (Moscow, Russia)

#65 Dysin Mayo (Victoria, British Columbia)

Goalies

#30 Jiří Patera (Prague, Czech Republic)

#32 Jesper Vikman (Stockholm, Sweden)**

#68 Jordan Papirny (Edmonton, Alberta)**

[freecityradio]

Latest Anarchist Mountains album on CKUT 90.3fm charts

The latest Anarchist Mountains release, A Balkan Spacewalk, is on the CKUT 90.3fm music broadcast charts ! The Anarchist Mountains project is a collaboration with my brother Jordan Christoff, an ambient / electronic duet project. Our latest release is out on the Alien Garage label, based between Wisconsin and Tokyo, you can listen here:

A Balkan Spacewalk by Anarchist Mountains

[howlcollectivemtl]

Artists support Palestinian refugee Omar Ben Ali’s struggle for status in Montréal

Saturday, April 21st, 2018, Tiohtiá:ke (Montréal)

Omar Ben Ali is a Palestinian father, worker and community activist who has been living in Montréal for nearly a decade. Successive Canadian governments have failed to live up to their responsibilities to address the question of Omar's status and statelessness.

Arriving in Canada in 2008, from the Jenin region in the occupied West Bank, Omar applied for refugee status and was refused. At the time, the Canadian government demonstrated little consideration of the well-documented reality of the systemic violence faced by Palestinians in the Israeli occupied West Bank on a daily basis. A recent Human Rights Watch report notes :

“Israel enforces severe and discriminatory restrictions on Palestinians’ human rights, and it builds and supports unlawful settlements in the occupied West Bank. Its security forces appear to use excessive force against Palestinian demonstrators and suspected attackers, raising the spectre of extra-judicial killings. It has renewed the practice of punitive home demolitions.”

Despite this refusal, Canada has never fairly addressed Omar’s case- leaving him without status, but unable to return to Palestine. Instead, Omar has been living in stateless limbo for close to a decade.

Today, Omar is working hard in the city as a low-wage worker, unable to travel or visit his family in occupied Palestine and without the full rights of a permanent resident or a Canadian citizen. Given the governing Liberal Party of Canada’s rhetoric of supporting the rights of refugees and the fact that Prime Minister Justin Trudeau literally campaigned in support of the rights of Syrian refugees in the last election, we point to the fact that today Trudeau’s policies are failing many refugees.

A father of seven children, he has been separated from his wife and family for nearly a decade. Despite these obstacles, Omar has built a meaningful and important life in Montréal. A member of the Palestinian community, he has participated in many community events and is a well-known fixture in larger networks supporting struggles for justice in this city.

As artists living in Montréal, the well being and dignity of all people living in this city is central to our spirit. Today, we write this letter because we can’t remain silent as Omar Ben Ali continues to suffer and we call on the Canadian government to take action to grant Omar status. Just the simple fact that Omar is unable to return to occupied Palestine, due to the restrictions and controls of the Israeli military occupation, illustrates to us clearly that Omar urgently needs status in Canada, for the Canadian government to allow him to live in stateless limbo is irresponsible and inhumane.

As artists, we feel it is important to express our support and to speak out in solidarity with Omar Ben Ali. Our work is rooted in expressing the spirit of life and beautiful moments, but also the struggles we all face to overcome adversity and injustice. Within this context, we extend our solidarity, our hearts and our love to Omar Ben Ali.

Omar’s current campaign for status is something that we support. Tadamon! has been working with Omar and has full information on Omar’s case at : tadamon.ca/omar

Des artistes soutiennent le combat du réfugié Omar Ben Ali pour l’obtention de son statut à Montréal

Samedi 21 avril 2018, Tiohtiá:ke (Montréal)

Omar Ben Ali est un père, un travailleur et un activiste communautaire Palestinien qui vit à Montréal depuis près d’une décennie. Les gouvernements canadiens successifs ont failli à leurs responsabilités pour régler la question du statut et de l'apatridie d'Omar.

Arrivé au Canada en août 2008 de la région de Jenin en Cisjordanie occupée, Omar voit sa demande de statut de réfugié refusée. À l’époque, Immigration Canada démontra peu de considération à l’égard de la violence systémique et quotidienne – pourtant bien documentée – subie par les Palestiniens vivant sous l’occupation israélienne en Cisjordanie occupée. En effet, selon un rapport de 2017 par Human Rights Watch :

« Israël applique des restrictions sévères et discriminatoires sur les droits humains des Palestiniens, en plus de construire et de soutenir des colonies illégales en Cisjordanie occupée. Les forces de sécurité israéliennes semblent utiliser une force excessive à l’encontre des manifestants et des présumés attaquants, ce qui soulève le spectre des meurtres extrajudiciaires. Israël a renouvelé la pratique de démolitions punitives des maisons . »

Malgré ce refus, le Canada n'a jamais traité équitablement le cas d'Omar : le laissant sans statut, mais incapable de retourner en Palestine. Ainsi, Omar vit dans les limbes apatrides depuis près d'une décennie.

Aujourd'hui, Omar travaille fort dans la ville de Montréal en tant que travailleur à faible revenu –  incapable de voyager ou de rendre visite à sa famille en Palestine occupée – et sans les pleins droits d'un-e résident-e permanent-e ou d'un citoyen-ne canadien-ne. Compte tenu de la rhétorique du Parti libéral du Canada sur son soi-disant soutien aux droits des réfugié-e-s et compte tenu que le premier ministre Justin Trudeau a littéralement fait campagne en faveur des droits des réfugié-e-s syrien-ne-s lors des dernières élections, nous soulignons que les politiques de Trudeau échouent à beaucoup de réfugié-e-s aujourd'hui.

Père de sept enfants, Omar est maintenant séparé de sa femme et de sa famille depuis près d’une décennie. Malgré tous ces obstacles, Omar a su développer une vie impliquée, significative et importante à Montréal. Membre précieux de la communauté Palestinienne, il a participé à plusieurs évènements communautaires et est bien connu au sein des réseaux plus larges soutenant les luttes pour la justice à Montréal.

En tant qu'artistes vivant à Montréal, le bien-être et la dignité de tous les habitant-e-s de cette ville sont au cœur de notre esprit. Aujourd'hui, nous écrivons cette lettre parce que nous ne pouvons pas rester silencieux-ses alors qu’Omar Ben Ali continue de souffrir : nous demandons au gouvernement canadien d'agir pour obtenir le statut d'Omar. Le simple fait qu'Omar soit incapable de retourner en Palestine occupée, en raison des restrictions et des contrôles de l'occupation militaire israélienne, nous démontre clairement qu'Omar a un besoin urgent de statut au Canada et qu’il est irresponsable et inhumain de le maintenir dans les limbes apatrides.

En tant qu'artistes, nous croyons qu'il est important d'exprimer notre soutien et de nous exprimer en solidarité avec Omar Ben Ali. Notre travail est enraciné dans l'expression de l'esprit de la vie et des beaux moments, mais aussi dans les luttes auxquelles nous sommes tous et toutes confronté-e-s pour surmonter l'adversité et l'injustice. Dans ce contexte, nous étendons notre solidarité, nos coeurs et notre amour à Omar Ben Ali.

Nous soutenons la présente campagne d'Omar pour obtenir son statut. Tadamon! travaille avec Omar et a des informations complètes sur le cas d'Omar au : tadamon.ca/omar

Faiz Abhuani, Brique par brique

Claire Abraham

Hadi Adel

Hoda Adra

Lubo Alexandrov

Nawar Al Rufaie, Sandhill

Thierry Amar, Godspeed You! Black Emperor & Silver Mt. Zion

Jordan Arseneault, mediaqueer.ca

Shahrzad Arshadi

Amber Berson

Ricardo Lamour-Blaise, Emrical

Hubert Gendron-Blais, Ce qui nous traverse

Rana Bose

David Bryant, Godspeed You! Black Emperor & Set Fire to Flames

Ky Brooks, Lungbutter + Nag

Peter Burton, Suoni per il Popolo festival

Antoine Bustros

Jesse Chase

Dolores Chew, Third World Studies Certificate coordinator @ Marianopolis

Stefan Christoff

Moe Clark

Mary-Ellen Davis

Tanya Davis

Étienne Dupré

Julia Dyck, Platitudes + XX Files Radio

Yves Engler

Ian Ferrier, Wired on Words

Tamara Filyavich, Moose Terrific + CKUT Radio

Rebecca Foon, Saltland + Esmerine

Jesse Freeston

Daniel Áñez García

Aidan Girt, Godspeed You ! Black Emperor

Jason Gillingham

Isis Giraldo, Chiquita Magic

James Goddard, Skin Tone + Platitudes

Avraham Grenadier

Alex Guimond

Freda Guttman

Malcolm Guy

Noa Haran

Bryan Highbloom

Sheena Hoszko

Lucas Huang, Old Haunt

Lawrence Joseph, Jazz Euphorium

Saeed Kamjoo

Nick Kuepfer

Maya Khamala

Nadia Koromyslova

Edith Lafrenière

Samuel Laundry, Le Berger

Kevin Yuen Kit Lo, LOKI

Franklin López, subMedia

Marjolaine Lord, La salière

Amy Macdonald, Nennen

Emmanuel Madan

Parker Mah, Tumbao Montréal + CKUT Radio

Sarah Mangle

Mariana Marcassa

Efrim Manuel Menuck, Godspeed You ! Black Emperor

Zahra Moloo

Melissa Mongiat, Daily tous les jours

Émilie Monnet, Productions Onishka

Danji Buck-Moore, anabasine

Alexander Moskos, CKUT Radio

Radwan Moumneh, Jerusalem In My Heart

Norman Nawrocki

Kelly Nunes

Hermine Ortega, KABANE77

Sarah Pagé

Mauro Pezzente, Godspeed You ! Black Emperor

Deanna Radford, The Atwater Poetry Project

Julie Ricard, Black Ark + Gypsy Kumbia Orchestra

Nika Khanjani Rosadiuk

Amanda Ruiz

Tamara Sandor

Nick Schofield, rêves sonores + Best Fern

Jason Blackbird Selman, Kalmunity Vibe Collective

Sam Shalabi, Land of Kush + The Dwarfs of East Agouza

Maïté Simard

Philippe Teixeira St. Cyr

Endrick Tremblay, Endrick & The Sandwiches

Kiva Stimac, Popolo Press

Ari Swan

Shaun Weadick

Lamia Yared, l'Ensemble Zaman

[ifknorrkoping]

Allsvenskan, Omgång 4 (27:e juni 2020, Jämtkraft Arena, Östersund)

Östersunds FK - IFK Norrköping 2-4 (1-1)

1-0 Simon Kroon (35′) 1-1 Christoffer Nyman (45+1′) 2-1 Jordan Attah Kadiri (51′) 2-2 Christoffer Nyman (69) 2-3 Simon Thern (90) 2-4 Sead Haksabanovic 90+5)

Varningar: IFK - ÖFK - Noah Sonko Sundberg Domare: Fredrik Klitte Publik: 0

IFK Norrköping 1. Isak Pettersson (MV) 2. Henrik Castegren 3. Rasmus Lauritsen 4. Lars Krogh Gerson 5. Christoffer Nyman (K) (90+3′, 16. Pontus Almqvist) 6. Eric Smith (78′, 7. Alexander Fransson 21. Simon Thern 23. Andreas Blomqvist (63′, 13. Abdulrazaq Ishaq) 25. Filip Dagerstål 27. Isak Bergmann Johannesson 99. Sead Haksabanovic

Ej inbytta: 31. Vladimir Sudic (MV), 11. Christopher Telo, 20. Kevin Alvarez, 77. Manasse Kusu

[sadpatheticspammers]

Curabitur eleifend, est ut venenatis molestie, turpis neque elementum metus, at molestie augue purus et risus. Aliquam erat volutpat. Nam ac posuere massa, id malesuada turpis.