#unfortunately for terry he is also the Devil

[crayonverse]

cw abuse implications

been awhile since drawing anything canon adjacent lmao anyway heres ein and his manipulative father figure who hates him

wanted 2 go with some holy imagery bc of that line ein has in s6 where he says the only person worthy of respect is Michael n yeah. he has some issues

[nobrashfestivity]

Personal rambling on Robert Johnson (don't feel you have to read this)

Since last night's song was a Robert Johnson song, I feel like mentioning that I always find it stomach churning how his musical legacy was talked about a large part of the music community.

His name was the subject of two complexly fabricated stories designed to cast him in a musical light that was comfortable to white musicians and writers.

The first one was silliness about him selling his soul to the devil so he could play guitar. It was such an incredibly popular myth (they made movies about it) and when I was a kid it seemed harmless enough until I realized it was to fuel the idea that white culture had about black artists. To whites, black musicians could never be scholarly and learned, doing the difficult task of mastering a musical instrument. Even though so many back musicians were highly educated the trope of the "natural black musician" that didn't have to learn it because they were part of a primitive culture and they were born into music, is a destructive stereotype that lives on today. It's adjacent to the racist "Black people have rhythm" stereotype.

Black people invented so much of American music but it's always been criticized until it is popular enough to be coopted by white artists. I'm not suggesting that white artists refrain from playing and adapting any sort of music, only that there's a lineage from "Jazz is not music" to "Rock and Roll is not music" to "Hip-Hop is not music." I wonder what all these kinds of music have in common!

Fewer people know the more recent Johnson myth that started on the internet, that his recordings were sped up and that's how he sang so high and played difficult things so fast. This had no basis in fact, it was an internet rumor. I felt it was also based on an ingrained racist idea about blues. White musicians had decided it sounded more "Authentic slower despite the fact that Johnson was only 25 years old when he recorded his first records and had ever right to sound like the young man he was. I have been over the "evidence" of this speed changing conspiracy and it was no basis in fact for about 10 reasons I wont bore you with. I just feel it's a lingering and unfortunate cultural picture of the blues that it's a bunch of uneducated black people getting drunk and singing that their baby left them. It can be extremely sophisticated and lyrical music.

I am not accusing everyone of being a racist. Many white musicians genuinely adored, shared the music of and credited Johnson for his genius. Keith Richards famously said when he first heard a record of Johnson paying solo he asked "Who's the guy playing with him?"

The thing I find unfortunate is that endless parade of Blues Hammer bands (Terry Zwigoff KNEW) that have systematically dismantled the elegance of the early rural music. The culture makes it hard for anyone to listen to Johnson and not think of some white hat mustached bar band who thinks they are covering Eric Clapton. And it's just a shame that, in a sense, he will remain this cliche of the guy selling his soul to the devil (so he could play hot licks!) instead of the graceful writer and musician he really was.

And to the poets and writers out there who analyze song lyrics, for me Johnson has some tremendously wry and dense allusions.

I recall reading Stephen Calt (I think) saying that in Johnson's song "Dead Shrimp Blues" "Shrimp" was a 19th century French slang term for a sex worker, long outmoded when he used it. I find these coded aspects to the music really interesting.

In the song last night "Come on in my kitchen" which is all at once mournful and salacious, there's one of Johnson's references to Hoodoo culture:

"Oh, she's gone, I know she won't come back I've taken the last nickel out of her nation sack You better come on in my kitchen It's goin' to be rainin' outdoors"

ethnographer and folklorist Tony Kail writes:

During the 1930’s Anglican minister Harry Middleton Hyatt traveled the United States performing interviews with numerous devotees of Hoodoo and African-American spiritualism. During his stay in Memphis Tennessee Hyatt encountered an informant who shared about a curious artifact known as the ‘nations sack’. Other local terms used for the sack included ‘nations bag’ and probably the most used term the ‘nation sack’.

Hyatt’s informant shared that the sack was worn by females typically around their waist. The sack contained money and objects considered to be ‘lucky’. One practitioner shared with Hyatt that some nation sack owners would place parts of a chicken egg inside the bag while others spoke of adding objects such as roots, snuffboxes and silver dimes. One informant shared that some women utilize materials such as a dollar bill covered in their mate’s urine inside of their nation sacks. Some were used in conjunction with a string that could be tied to ‘tie’ up a man’s ‘nature’ or sexual prowess. The magical principal that appeared frequently was that the ingredients in the nation sack could keep a man faithful and a woman protected. Hyatt’s informant he nicknames the ‘Nation Sack Woman’ advises the minister that the bag is off limits to men and should never be touched by a man.

But a favorite Johnson lyric for me is positively psychedelic for 1937 and is from "Love in vain" which perhaps is popularly known from being covered by The Rolling Stones .

"When the train, it left the station, with two lights on behind the blue light was my blues, and the red light was my mind."

[demon-blood-youths]

An Officer's Corruption - Part Sixteen

Hello everyone! This is Demon-mun, again and this is part Fifthteen of An Officer's Corruption started by @the-silver-peahen-residence

||Previous Chapters 1-7||((Click here))

((Previous chapters 8-13)) (Click here))

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen ( Violence Warning )

||OVA Chapters||

OVA part Six

OVA part Seven

---- Warnings ---

Violence

Slight NSFW

---- Summary ----

After the huge brawl that took place at T Prison cafeteria. Officer Violet goes to investigate what caused Itadori to get violent after some words. Also, Oblivion plans to dive deep into Yuuka's history.

-----

"So that's what happened." Ink said as she is at her office talking to Sai. Which has been so long. When she got the call from him. She can't help but answer him since it felt so long since they talked. She wants to know how he is doing so far.

"I see..."

"Yep. The Yazuka guy, Katana Man breaks into the prison to kill Denji because he killed his grandfather who had him do job of killing demons so they can smuggle the remains. Of course, that old guy died not because of Denji but because he made a bad deal with the zombie Devil. So you know how that is."

"Not surprised that Denji had to do it because of some debt. It's a common unfortunate case for many who had to pay back debt left by their parents.." Said Sai.

"Yeah! And now we had a mini-riot just hours ago." Ink said.

"Is it related?"

"No. Some prisoner messed with the wrong guy and got his teeth pulled and even his tongue out." Ink sighed.

"Fuck!"

"Eh?! Sai? You okay?" Ink said.

"Yeah! That's pretty brutal if you ask me. That prisoner must of done something to piss the other guy off." Sai said.

"Anyway...what's up with you, Sai? How is that bat guy doing?"

"Oh...." Sai sighs, "Okay."

----- Sai's office ----

As he talks, below the desk. He winces as Terry down there is now teasing him below as he feels tongue on his length.

"How is he?"

"On his best behavior of course," Sai managed to say as he goes to push the bat's head with his leg to his groin to get that best feeling in the world. Ever since that night, he can't help himself. Damn him. No doubt, he is going to do it again with him tonight.

"Just some jokes here and there," Sai added. "But overall, okay. He is also getting out on his best behavior. We talked and we came on a deal."

"A deal?" Ink asked.

----

"Yes." Sai answered. "I decided to have him as my CI. I need someone to get information that most officers can't get." He said.

"Huh. I think that's a good idea." She said. Sai wonders if he knows anything about Ryomen Sukuna has something to do with Sai's charge and Rust's. Maybe they did.

"By the way...have you ever of Ryomen Sukuna?"

"Yeah! I do! He's the one who gives us money for repairs. He sounds like a nice guy." Ink smiled. Sai hums, "Well...do you know that he has someone in prison he cares about?"

"Not sure. It wouldn't be surprising."

"I can't get into details for that since someone is taking care of that so I'll talk to you later."

"Right, talk to you later, Sai. It's great to hear from you again. Also, sorry for the late update on that file."

"It's fine. No worries. I know how to handle my prisoner. It's no problem." Sai said, forgiving her. "Next time, have Hellmare handle that, got it?"

"Right!" Ink sweatdropped with a sheepish smile. "Anyway! Talk to you later." She said.

----

"Right, later." Sai smiles before hanging up. Sai hisses a little, "Can you at least wait? Didn't I get you blood earlier?"

"You did. But I need more if I'm going to work for you." Terry bite his hand. Sai sighs and pats. "Fine. Then another night would suffice?'

"Sure."

-------- Roosevelt Island Prison -----

Oblivion was upset on how Yuuka was treated the other night. She can't imagine it. She had to ask an extra shot available in her office. She wonders. She went outside and request a drone from Fosh to deliver that shot to Ophelia.

Today at noon, Oblivion request a different line for Fosh so she can talk to Ophelia in private on the phone after she got a text from Ophelia.

"Hello Oblivion. Thank you for seeing my message."

"No thank you for taking the time on this." Said Oblivion. "So what do we got?"

"I will say this...it's disturbing what they're doing to her. It's messing with her quirk no doubt but there are side effects." Ophelia frowns. "Both mentally and physically. She has a right to react. Messing with someone's quirk can do some longstanding damage to someone that will take time."

"Okay...so what kind of side effects are we talking about?" Oblivion asked.

"It's not pretty so here's what I listed. Right now, I'm thinking of making an alternative that might change the deadly poison to less dangerous poison temporarily. But I know you don't like that." Said Ophelia.

"Please tell me." Oblivion sighed. "I want to help her."

"Very well." Ophelia said as she goes to explain

----- Lower Cell Floor ------

"So I guess you heard the news..." Kali sighs. Rex chuckles, "I was wondering when Sukuna going to make a move. Never thought he would be so generous after the prison break-in."

"Do you think..."

"No. Sukuna isn't that kind of person. In fact, he hates that old geezer who was smuggling devil remains. He also had some artifacts stolen from his collection once and it was sold. He seems elated that old man died and his grandson now off to another prison. After all...he cares about Itadori and that's why he doing this. This way, the enemies of Six Claws will look for them when released or wait...instead of breaking into the prison themselves."

"It doesn't explain the other charges held by Vanguard's officers." Kali said.

"Ah yes. Davion." Said Rex as he continues, "That man is a dragon who is a bounty hunter. Apparently, he ran into a unlucky situation where he got arrested. That man is really strong. Whenever a huge bounty appears, he comes hunting." He said. "Although...his actions garners some police attention since his methods are.....a bit crude." Said Rex. "After all...I seen his work when he comes to black market tracking down his targets."

"And the other one?"

"Ah...Terry the Bat. A pain in the neck. From what I heard, he takes down criminals. You can say that he's anti-hero in those comic books. No doubt, he will have Officer Narong to work with him if their interests align." Said Rex. "Although...these are just guesses. I'm not surprised that both of them are going to be released since they're smart and charming but I am curious why Sukuna has mentioned them for some reason. Maybe...Davion could be used for a hired gun or sorts. As for Terry, not sure though." He shrugs.

"So nothing on Itadori?"

"No. Things are proceeding as planned. It seems like Sukuna wants Six Claws out of the prison so Itadori won't be in danger. It seems fair." He said. "If I had to guess maybe Sukuna wants the Six Claws for something. Only four of the six Claws know Sukuna in the criminal underground." He said.

"And you?" Kali crosses his arms, "I can guess a lot of stuff." "If you guessed that Sukuna wants me out due to business, then yes. You are correct." Rex smiles. "And now, now! In case you're wondering, I do not deal in human trafficking. Just weapons, money, and such. Nothing else."

"How is that any better?"

"Even as criminals, we have standards." Said Rex.

------- Warden Kinie Ger 's Office -----

"So that's how it happened." Warden Kinie Ger informs him of what happened between Iku and Yuji that started the brawl.

"I see. Thank you for informing me. Tell me did Yuji win or what?"

"Actually..he won. If you want to know the details. The man who provoked him lost two of his teeth and a tongue. Forunately, since he's a demon. It will grow back but he won't leaving the infirmary after a week. In fact, Yuji would be out of there when he wakes up. So no need to worry. Yuji is in cell by himself so he can calm down. As for his friends, the same. But they will leave the solitary soon." He said.

"I see. Thank you, Kinie." Said Sukuna.

"Just doing my job. After all, I owe you for the repairs." He said.

"So you explained the situation to them," Ryomen asked.

"Yes. Officer Vanguard took it well as she doesn't mind it." Kinie answered the phone with Ryomen Sukuna. Although...she has no idea how Ink thinks. "As for Officer Vin Shia, she seems apprehensive about this but she will get around as she got her orders."

"Good, good." Ryomen hums.

"Anyway...this date." Kinie Ger said. "What is the time and place?"

"Now, now, now. I can't spoil the surprise, can we? I will have my driver take you." Ryomen chuckles making Kine Ger make a face. "But...if you want. It's the view of the city."

View of the city.

Kinie Ger doesn't like being inside the city but seeing the view. She doesn't mind it. "Okay...is there anything I need to bring?"

"Oh? You want to give me a gift?" He teased. Kinie Ger nods, "Yes. I don't think spending time with you be enough, I wonder if there is anything I should give you. Mind you, I only know how to cook, bring wine or such to make the date enjoyable."

Ryomen laughs. "Wow! I never had a woman who wants to bring something as a kind gesture." He said. "I accept." He said gently. "Anything that surprises me. Though yourself is enough."

Kinie Ger can't help but smirk a little at this. "Very well. Also you said that you're planning on adding another request."

"Yes. It's nothing extreme. All I want you is to make sure Itadori is safe including his friends. After all, he is my prized fighter. And joy of course." Said Sukuna.

"Leave it to me." Said Kinie. "Officer Jinx is good at her job at protecting others."

----- Jinx with Kisho and Megumi ----

"So can you two tell me what happened?" Jinx asked the two. "I asked your friend, Itadori but he doesn't want to say."

"If Itadori doesn't want to talk, then what makes you think we will talk?" Megumi asked her seriously with an emotionless look. Jinx biting her cheek, "Because I want to know."

"Megumi..." Kisho said, unsure as he wanted to tell her. Megumi shakes his head.

"She needs to know...what's the big deal?" Kisho asked with a frown.

"Kisho...." Megumi warns, giving him a look to which Kisho wants to say something but doesn't want to disobey.

"Look. I just want to owe him for helping me out against that Akane and the Snake Devil." Jinx said. "I just want to understand. I know he doesn't throw a punch unless something seriously pisses him off."

"And how do you know?" Megumi said. "Do you know him? Or just know based on his file?" He said, not convinced by this.

"I want to know him. I only know what he likes and what he can do. I even saw what he can do too." Jinx sighed. She recalls the times when Yuji becomes so...primal. "So, please. If I am in charge of protecting him whether he goes to trial or gets released. I need to know so I can make sure nothing happens like that again."

"I mean...if you want to know..."

"Kisho."

"Come on, Megumi! It sounds like Officer Violet cares so why not? It's the guy's fault for starting. We were just minding our business. I mean...Yuji is a type of guy who doesn't like people talking shit including hurting innocent people." He said.

"Huh?" Jinx said.

"You see. That Iku guy was bragging about being in the Demons of Oda." He said. "He says he knows Yuji in the fighting ring and some other shit."

Megumi sighs.'

"Then Yuji isn't interested because that guy's whole plan is to take on Yuji because he's the strongest."

"That's what the other prisoners were saying."

"See? Told you!" Kisho tells Megumi who rolls his eyes but sighs.

"And he says something that if he wins, then Itadori gotta serve him and tell him to bring the girls, the female guards," Kisho said, looking a bit disgusted.

"Then one of the two, Syuuta about a female guard with dark reddish brown and wants to do things to her. That's when Itadori snapped." Megumi added.

Jinx blinks before widening her eyes. Hold on...then....did Itadori do that because he doesn't like how the guys were talking about me? No that can't be right?

"There. Are you happy? Not sure if that's going to change anything." Megumi said. Jinx shakes her head, "No, that's enough thanks. It makes me....glad that Itadori did something like that for no reason."

"Huh?" Megumi blinked.

"Anyway you two can go back to your regular cells." Jinx said. "Thank you very much."

"Hey!" Kisho watches Jinx runs off. "Hey Megumi, do you think...Jinx is going to tell Yuji that she gets it and Yuji won't get in trouble."

"Who knows. It means...we will be in our cells alone till Yuji comes back at the morning." Said Megumi.

"Meaning we will be there in our cell by ourselves," Kisho sigh then he blinked. Hold on...that does mean. Kisho looks nervously at Megumi who chuckles a little. "Itadori will be fine. You're on the other hand..." He looks at him.

"Oh come on, Megumi! I was just trying to help." Kisho pleaded. Megumi ruffles his hair, "I know. But we haven't finished because of that damn break-in. Maybe a reward would be good for you."

"R-right..." Kisho sighed before grinning a little, "Yes...Lord Fushiguro."

Megumi twitched a little, "Little punk...let's get inside!"

"Okay, okay!" Kisho laughs. And so the night continues on as Jinx returns to Yuji's solitary cell. How would this night go.

----

To be continued...

[watching-pictures-move]

Put On Your Raincoats | The Affairs of Janice (Colt, 1976)

This review contains mild spoilers.

The mix of overheated marriage melodrama and grimy '70s horror porno is so intriguing that I'm willing to give this a slight recommendation even if I don't think it works all that well. This is directed by and stars Zebedy Colt, from whose Terri's Revenge and The Devil Inside Her I previously enjoyed and which continue to grow in my esteem. Neither movie is terribly erotic, but both have an off kilter energy that give the proceedings a certain charge. This one starts off promisingly, first with a Sunset Boulevard style introduction, and then presenting us with an artist husband increasingly resentful of his more sexually successful wife, who opts to insult him at every opportunity. As she says in one of many juicy lines in the overly literate dialogue: "George can't swim a stroke. The only way George is going to drown is in a bottle of gin."

The problem is that Colt has never seemed interested in making sex seem appealing, and that comprises the bulk of the sex scenes in this movie. Aside from a kinkier scene between Annie Sprinkle and Ras Kean, the former of whom is always a welcome presence in these things and the latter of whom bears an unfortunate resemblance to one of a certain former president's sons, most of the scenes outside of the climax are fairly vanilla and depicted in a pretty boring, straightforward way, with minimal stylization. (We get a bit of blurring during a lesbian scene, and some slack cutting to Colt's reaction during a threesome.) There's little of the ickiness or weirdness of those other movies' sex scenes that make them work in the context of their respective narratives. ("The sex isn't weird enough!", he complained after watching a billion pornos.)

I also think the movie's environment does no favours for its intended tone. This looks to have been shot in the same country house Colt often shot in (and I believe owned), and the airy, relaxed atmosphere of this property does not complement the overcooked melodrama playing out. You can see this same property better complement the folk horror atmosphere of The Devil Inside Her, or the way a crumbling urban environment gives Terri's Revenge a sense of claustrophobia. And both those movies star Terri Hall, whose unusual screen presence gives them a certain unpredictable energy. Here, Crystal Sync is enjoyable enough as the bitchy socialite wife, but while I normally like C.J. Laing, I don't think she's able to carry the movie, and the conventional sex scenes put her talents for rough stuff to waste. ("The sex isn't unpleasant enough!", he complained again.)

That being said, things pick up in the climax. We get Colt falling apart, punching a wall so his hand bleeds, and then moping around his studio, his work towering over him so as to exaggerate his growing derangement. We get murder by leather cuffs and lead body paint and also by brutal unconscious fisting, acts presented with substantially more charge than any of the earlier sex scenes. And we get a newspaper montage and superimposed spookery to tie up the plot. The execution of this stretch doesn't match the forcefulness of the climax of The Devil Inside Her, with its kinky filter-heavy lightshow freakout, but there are interesting aesthetic ideas here, perhaps enough to save the movie if you can wait out the more trying earlier sections.

[goldcrown20]

Written for @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: Trinkets. A little angst but mostly fluff.

Sirius stepped out of the Floo into 12 Grimmauld Place, feeling Harry squirming in his arms. Before he could set the boy down to run off to Merlin-knew-where, he glanced to the side to check on Remus, who was calmly brushing Floo powder off his robes.

“Tell me again that we thoroughly child-proofed this place,” said Sirius, grimacing.

“There isn’t anything here that could harm Harry,” replied Remus calmly.

“Daddy, I’m a big boy now,” reminded Harry, frowning up at Sirius after the man set him on the floor.

Sirius tried not to laugh at the sight of the five year old boy crossing his arms and trying to look mature.

“Of course you are Prongslet,” he bent down and whispered into Harry’s ear. “That’s why we trust you to stay near either me or your Da.”

The trio left the foyer and entered the impressive Black library. Remus set up Harry with a coloring book in a cushy corner while Sirius surveyed the rows of mahogany shelves. He ran a hand through his dark curls and sighed. He hated being here, with memories of merciless tutors and Walburga’s suspicious scrutiny haunting the place like malicious ghosts. But this was for Harry, he reminded himself. It had been increasingly clear to both him and Remus that Voldemort was not dead. So regardless of what Dumbledore said, they had decided to take matters into their own hands and figure out why Voldemort’s body was never found. And unfortunately the Black Family library was the best place to do so.

“I’ll start with the Potions section,” said Remus, placing a comforting hand on Sirius’s shoulder.

As Sirius soon lost himself flipping through his ancestors’ collection of curse encyclopedias, he tried not think of a certain bedroom upstairs. He had long since learned that nothing good could come of pondering the fate of his baby brother, who sold his soul to a madman at the tender age of 18.

Speak of the devil, he cursed sadly to himself. He had opened a page to find none other than Regulus’s elegant cursive, detailing his theories on the application of combinatorial magicks to curse breaking.

Suddenly, he heard Remus’s frantic voice.

“Harry? Harry?” his partner called out from across the library.

Sirius’s heart skipped a beat. Ears ringing in alarm, he raced toward the corner where he last saw his child, only to see Remus opening and closing cupboard doors worriedly.

“He was here a few minutes ago.” Remus gave Sirius a wild eyed look.

“Moony, he has to be in the house somewhere. You take the second floor and I’ll take the third,” Sirius said, his war experiences kicking in.

Remus nodded and disappeared quickly. Sirius made his way to the third floor, trying not to imagine worst case scenarios.

Don’t catastrophize, Remus’s voice in his head reminded him, lowering Sirius’s heart rate slightly. He had always thought Moony would’ve been a great mind Healer, if the idiots at St Mungo’s would have accepted him.

Just then, Sirius saw the wide open doors of Walburga’s suite.

“Fuck,” he swore out loud. There hadn’t been any dark or dangerous items detected in there, he reminded himself. There was no chance Harry could’ve been cursed, or poisoned, or-

He slammed open the dressing room door to see a little boy bent over a large trunk of jewels and trinkets. Relief flooded him as he watched Harry root around in the Black matriarch’s old jewels. He silently sent a Patronus message to Remus, as he took deep breaths.

“I thought I told you to stay near us, Haz,” Sirius scolded gently.

Harry clambered out of the box to give Sirius an innocent look. “I forgot my red crayon,” he cried. “Terry the dragon needs red scales! You and Da were busy so I’m finding a new crayon.”

Sirius surveyed the gold bracelets and rings that adorned the child. “Those don’t look like crayons babe.”

“Terry the dragon also likes gold,” informed Harry matter of factly.

Before Sirius could wonder why a dragon would be named Terry, he caught sight of a particular trinket around Harry’s small wrist.

Tears sprung unwillingly to his eyes and he remembered his brother giggling uncontrollably at a young Sirius’s mocking portrayal of Walburga, dressed in her gaudy trinkets telling off yet another tutor.

His emotions must have shown on his face as Harry dropped the jewelry in his hands to race over to his parent.

“I’m sorry Daddy!” he cried, as he wrapped his arms around Sirius’s legs. He sobbed into Sirius’s robes as the wizard picked the little boy up and buried him in a hug.

“There you are, oh,” came Remus’s stern turned surprised voice. “Is everything all right?”

Sirius swallowed as he ran a hand down Harry’s back soothingly. “Yeah, just you know, memories,” he admitted sadly.

Remus’s already soft expression turned softer. “You know what, I think I gathered enough source materials and notes to begin our research.”

Sirius blinked. “You think?”

“Yeah, why don’t we all get out of here? There’s a zoo nearby, if someone’s interested,” said Remus, giving Harry a teasing look. Sirius felt a surge of gratitude and love for Moony, who could read him so well.

“Yeah! Will there be dragons? Terry wants to meet his friends,” asked Harry.

“Err…maybe not at this zoo, cub. But there will be lions,” Remus replied, taking Harry from Sirius.

As he listened to the two compare the “awesomeness” of lions versus dragons, Sirius gathered some of the jewelry and necklaces to place them carefully back in the trunk.

Smiling slightly at the thought of another little boy with black curls and grey eyes, he sent up a silent plea to the Universe that wherever his brother was, he was happy and at peace. With that thought, he closed the trunk and left the room to rejoin his little family.

[elentary]

Black as the devil, pure as an angel

Happy 31st Good Omens anniversary! (i’m late as usual)

A little story about Aziraphale and Crowley popped up in my head and I tried to write it down. 

This is my first story and my first language is not English (so don’t expect a masterpiece out of this): any correction or comment will be appreciated!

(All material related to Good Omens is the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.)

Black as the devil, pure as an angel

London, Monday, 10th May 2021

"Hey, this is Antony Crowley, you know what to do, do it with style"

-biiiiiiip-

"Ah, hello, it's me… ...Aziraphale! Well, ehm, it's been a while since we spoke and I suppose you're still sleeping in this moment because you aren't answering the phone. I just hope you aren't sleeping on the ceiling or on the walls: I'm pretty confident to say that's not comfortable for your backbone and I know for sure you have a perfect soft bed in your room. Also, last time I saw you up there, I almost had a heart-attack and I'd like to avoid it, even if I'm sure I can't die of that since I'm not human, but… ...oh, I wandered off too much with this!

Ehm, I called to inform you that lately the situation here in London seems to have improved and, since some restrictions have been lifted, I thought we could maybe meet again when you'll wake up: my bookshop will be open just for you at every hour! 

 Oh, don't worry if you'll be a bit sleepy: I'll prepare my special qahwah (kahve/caffè) in a jiffy! Well, it's not so special, it's just an old recipe I learnt because… ...oh, not that, it's a secr…. ehm, it's not important at all!

I… I… hope to see you soon, my chuck-… my dear!"

Aziraphale hung up the phone and started fidgeting with his golden ring almost immediately: "I shouldn't have called him: it didn't go how I planned", he muttered to himself. Unsurprising, the phrase "it went down like a lead balloon" popped up immediately in his head.

He had been rehearsing the call for ten days, preparing himself for every possible scenario, but in the end he went completely off-script after a few words, letting his emotions spill too much in his tone. 

But what worried him the most was the moment he let slip the words "old recipe" from his mouth: not for the recipe per se, but because of the little secret behind it. 

"I'm quite sure - he said out loud using a hopeful tone to calm himself - I was able to stop in time, thanks goodness! I’m sure that he won't ask anything even if Crowley notices something, because he'll think there is just a boring story behind it".

While he was heading for the kitchenette to make a cup of tea (there is no problem that couldn't be fixed with a good cuppa), he halted midway and wondered: "Why did I call coffee in that ancient way?"

The reason for that ancient name was very old, pretty much as old as Aziraphale's secret: a little more than four hundred years old.

Venice, 1596

"...and just a cup of qahwah for me" said a guest all clad in black who was slouching on a chair in the most luxurious house of the city. 

The young waiter who was taking the order, looked at him a bit perplexed for the last order. 

"Right, that was Arabic" chuckled Crowley "bring me some kahve or whatever is called here".

"Oh, caffè, here it’s called caffè here, Siór!” [1] , said the young one, ”How much sugar would you like in your cup?” added hasty at the demon's expression.

“I'll have Sade kahve but with a bit of cardamom. Remember to grind finely the beans”.

The waiter was still lost but the other guest at the table helped him with a smile: "He doesn't want any sugar in his caffè, dear" 

“I'll bring everything as soon as possible" said the young man and, after bowing a little, he headed for the counter.

Aziraphale was a bit surprised by what just happened: "It seems you are the meticulous one today: I have almost never seen you so specific with your food or drink order, unless alcohol was involved". He also added: "I just hope you didn't want to mess with the poor waiter".

No, angel, I didn't pull a prank. I have been drinking coffee for a while: but since my last mission in Malta [2] I have been loving it: Altan was the best at making it, but he went to Rome", Crowley said with a sigh.

"The funniest thing - he continued, smiling - is that I was lured to that because I thought it was an alcoholic drink since they called it qahwah, that also means wine. At first I was a bit disappointed but later I discovered it helps to stay awake during boring stuff: it did wonder with every task Hell gives me."

"I tasted some qahwah some times ago but it was too energetic for me… but maybe I should try it to deal with Gabr… ehm, with tedious tasks". Crowley politely didn't mention Aziraphale's little slip but smiled a bit inside.

When the order arrived the angel observed how his partner smelled and tasted happily the concoction humming approvingly: 

"I didn't think you were a coffee connoisseur" Aziraphale joked. 

"It's not so bad for someone with so little experience: you should try it sometimes. If you're done with your food, let's organize our Arrangement. For my report…"

They discussed their work for a couple of hours, drinking coffee. Aziraphale tasted it too (a lot sweeter than the demon) but in the end he still preferred his tea. The angel, however, decided he'd propose another place with coffee, since Crowley enjoyed that drink so much.

Milan, Four years later

"Why can't I have a cup of coffee?" Sulked a very crossed demon who was missing a couple of years of sleep due hellish work. "Lent was over 2 month ago, wasn't it?"

The owner of the shop was distraught: "The priest told us that is not proper now, Sir: the Infidels are using it and - he started whispering - it seems that's a Devil's plant". 

"I'm pretty sure that the Devil wasn't involved in any botanical project, even before Falling, and he has never tried any coffee. Instead, if you are speaking about demons, I am the onl-"

"Why don't we order wine instead this time?" Interrupted quickly Aziraphale before Crowley could say something more compromising. The unhappy demon agreed begrudgingly so several bottles of red wine were shared among them. 

"I'm sorry for your coffee, Crowley. It seems idiotic banning a plant just because somebody else has it".

"Well, they copied the idea from the Boss: God was the first to ban a plant, you and I should remember that easily" Crowley snickered.

Aziraphale started blushing and his cheeks soon were as red as that famous fruit: "ah, it… i-it wasn't just a normal fruit and that was part of God's plan…  I suppose.". That phrase was just commented by the demon with a bemused expression.

"So, Crowley, what are you going to do with this? Are you going to tempt a lot of people to drink coffee?"

"Nah, I'm already too busy with Hell's job at the moment. It would be too troublesome to convince people and especially priests: those at top are the worst."

I'm sure I'll miss the ability of coffee to transform random thoughts into ingenious ideas: humans were experts at using that!" The demon slouched sadly on the chair.

Aziraphale would have missed the improved human genius too but, in his opinion, would have regretted more not seeing his demon's smile but he said nothing. He instead started thinking if there was something he could do and soon became lost in his thoughts.

"...anything there?"

"Sorry, what was that?" 

"I told you I'll go back to Spain tomorrow for a temptation: do you need anything there?" 

"Oh, nothing special, just the usual [3] we can share and those books, if you could be so courteous." Aziraphale happily answered, giving him a neat written list.

"Are you going to stay here long, angel?"

"Oh, no, I'm departing for Rome the day after tomorrow… … I know you don't like it because of the absurd amount of consecrated ground there, you don't need to make a face each time I mention it"

"And every pope makes the problem worse." 

The angel assumed a grim expression: "I have to meet pope Clement VIII for the closing ceremony of the Jubilee"

"You don't seems pleased" 

"The Archangels, especially Sandalphon, think highly of him, but I don't… appreciate him, especially after he burned at the stake messer Giordano Bruno and other poor humans."

Crowley liked discussing the stars and the universe with Giordano: he tried to warn the poor man but he was too stubborn to listen.

"May I reciprocate your favour from Spain? Maybe some wine?" Suggested the angel.

"Only if you're sure the bottles are not blessed - Crowley shuddered - I still remember last time I was wrong".

"Are you sure it will be enough?" 

"I'm sure, angel. Let's party now and forget our troubles for now". 

Unfortunately Aziraphale couldn't party happily because he couldn't forget what happened with the cup of coffee and he thought his favour was too small: he decided he should do something about it! 

Luckily the following morning was more propitious and he found a way to repay Crowly for his favour: he'll find a way to lift the ban on coffee.

The only remaining problem was how to do that.

Rome, a week later

Aziraphale was reading the same line of the missive for the third time in a row at his desk: the angel was too distracted because hadn't found a solution for his "problem" yet. 

"I bet I have the solution under my nose but I can't see it" mumbled the angel touching the pope's sigils on the papers.

"Of course, the pope! - he yelled happily - He is the highest authority for the priests: he could convince everybody that drinking coffee is not bad if he tastes it himself".

"I just need to learn how to make the best coffee ever". A name came back to his mind, the name Crowley gave him: Altan. 

Immediately he used a little miracle to locate him that led him to a small cemetery outside the city and on the grave and there were few sweets with a little cup: unfortunately Altan died 10 years before. The angel bowed a little to pay respect. 

A big Turkish man came next to him and inquired "Did you know my father?".

"I didn't but my... acquaintance considered him a genius and was very fond of his qahwa, ehm, kahve. He'll be sad when he'll know he died." 

"I'm Osmanek. May I ask you what brings you here mister...?

"Oh, I'm Aziraphale. I came here to learn how to make the best coffee ever: I hope his art was inherited by you."

"Luckily it was not lost: I loved to help him make coffee. Before revealing my secrets I have a question for you: are you doing this for your… acquaintance?"

Aziraphale nodded: "I'd like to prepare him some coffee he loves, but at the same time I'd love to see everyone have a coffee whenever they fancy, like in your birthplace. To make that possible, however, I have to let somebody else drink your coffee to.. ..to tempt him saying it's not a bad thing: that person is the pope Clement".

The angel knew what he was asking for and couldn't hold the gaze of the man anymore.

"I understand -he continued sadly- if you don't want to help me since I have seen how much that man has been hurting your brothers and sisters…" The angel couldn't say anything else, overpowered by his memories and bowed his head to hide the tears in his eyes: he has seen too many inconceivable deaths in the name of faith

Osmanek observed Aziraphale for a little moment: he was sure there was no lie in his words. "No, - he smiled - I can't leave you after you poured your heart out: I'll help you and your friend to tempt the Pope." 

"Oh, oh, thank you! - and the angel added hastily - But he's not my friend, we barely know each other!"

The man started smiling brighter than ever and guided him to his house.

Immediately after they arrived, Osmanek offered his guest a cup of his special kahve with few sweets. Aziraphale tried just a sip of coffee and he was immediately in love: "Now I know why Crowley likes it so much: it's so scrumptious even without those sweets!"

"I call this Altan kahve in honour of my father: I will teach you how to prepare it for your fr… aquietance but I ask you to not give any of this to the pope. For him, I'll give you another tasty recipe" 

"Oh, I agree with you: the pope doesn't deserve that perfection!" 

Osmanek patiently taught Aziraphale everything he should know: how to roast and grind the beans, how to use the small pot "cezve", the ratio perfect between coffee and water, how to boil and froth the concoction and  which flavours could be used.

In the beginning everything felt so difficult for Aziraphale and he failed a lot. However the angel was very stubborn and, thanks Osmanek's tips and teaching, he was able to make an excellent cup of coffee in a couple of days.

"I hope this will be good enough" mumbled the angel.

"Trust me, it will be too good for the pope", he chuckled. "Now let's see how good you are with Altan's coffee. I'll give you a final tip: imagine you are preparing some coffee for your acquaintance and not me".

"Why…?"

"If I'm right, it will taste better"

Still perplexed and a bit nervous, Aziraphale went into the kitchen and, following the last advice, he prepared meticulously the dark drink, flavouring with cardamom and finally pouring it in two kahve fincanı, a dark one and a light one. The smell seemed quite promising.

Osmanek took the darkest cup and, after smelling the aroma, he tasted it. After a few seconds, he smiled "In my native Country there is a proverb that says the coffee should be black as hell, strong as death, and sweet as love but for your coffee this doesn't sound right". He put the empty fincanı on the table.

"I think - he continued - the Italian expression suit it better" 

"I'm sorry but I don't know it" the angel was starting to worry he messed up something even if the man was smiling fondly.

"Il caffè deve essere caldo come l'inferno, nero come il diavolo, puro come un angelo e dolce come l'amore.". [4]

The angel took his courage and drank his coffee: in his opinion, it wasn't perfect as Osmanek's but it tasted like something Crowley would enjoy and that was the best feeling ever. 

The angel couldn't stop smiling: "Oh, I am so grateful to you! But I don't know how I can repay you for this"

"Your happiness is enough: I'll bring you everything you need".

Aziraphale didn't agree with him so he performed some miracles and blessings. 

Osmanek came back with some coffee beans, flavours and utensils. There were also three kahve fincanı: two were familiar (the dark and the light ones) but the other was new (and very flashy).

"Oh, that's for the pope: I have always hated that cup and I hope it'll break when that man wants coffee most"

"Oh, that cup will do that, I can assure you" the angel promised with a mischief smile.

Aziraphale finally bid farewell, still thanking Osmanek profusely.

Two months later was the time to put the plan in action: the pope was in the library at 2 a.m. and he was getting tired but he had a lot of work to do. Aziraphale approached him: "I may have the right solution for your Excellency: it's a healthy concoction that promotes wakefulness and wonderful ideas. It was discovered b-"

"I don't care, - interrupted the holy man - give me that drink and let's hope it works".

"God gives me strength" whispered under his breath the angel while preparing some coffee that suited the pope's taste.

When the cup of coffee was ready, it was given to Clement VIII: he grabbed it and started drinking absent-mindedly. The smell and the taste were so good that he woke almost immediately. 

"Librarian, what is this?"

"As I was saying, this is coffee" 

"Why has nobody given me this miraculous drink? The taste is divine and it works perfectly!"

"I suppose nobody wanted to offer your Excellency any drink consumed by Muslims. Some people also believe coffee is a Devil's plant. In my op-"

"I don't care: it's too good to be Satan's plant and we mustn't let the infidels have exclusive use of coffee."

Aziraphale was quite happy: it seemed his plan worked out nicely.

"Maybe we could bless the beans or use some holy wate-"

"NO" shouted the angel, emanating some angelic power unconsciously "Please, DON'T". 

For the first time in his life, the pope was scared he felt like a little child in front of a giant warrior.

"Ehm, please - said more calmly Aziraphale - never suggest it again or let somebody do that. Just tell everyone coffee could be drank by anybody".

The pope could only nod affirmatively.

"Right!" 

Now the angel was sure he was successful in his endeavour and soon could have a coffee with Crowley. 

Aziraphale stayed in Rome for another three weeks, just in time to witness a fincanı to break neatly in two, pouring coffee on some important papal documents.

On his journey to London he stopped to Osmanek's house and updated him on what had happened in that time (especially the broken cup).

London, Monday, 10th May 2021, 30 minutes after Aziraphale's call.

In the end Aziraphale made some of his special coffee with his cezve: he was missing Crowley so much.

"What if i woke him up while he just wanted to sleep a bit more?" 

"No, angel, - a familiar voice answered - I want to stay awake with you for a while"

"Crowley" cheered Aziraphale

"Coffee?"

"In a jiffy" and he poured the drink in two old contrasting kahve fincanı.

"So, what's the secret behind this old recipe?" Crowley asked with a mischievous smile.

----------------------Notes----------------------

[1] Siór = mister (venetian dialect)

[2] Malta = Crowley had been at the great siege of Malta in 1565    https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Siege_of_Malta

[3] Usual = local goodies (especially wine and alcohol)

[4] "Il caffè deve essere caldo come l'inferno, nero come il diavolo, puro come un angelo e dolce come l'amore" = "coffee must be hot as hell, black as the devil, pure as an angel and sweet as love"

To write this I took some info from wikipedia about the history of coffee: if you want to learn something more accurate than my story, look here and here.

[dweemeister]

The Daydreamer (1966)

By the 1960s, Christmas television specials were in vogue in the United States. Yet this recent phenomenon had yet to yield a true cultural touchstone. On December 6, 1964, the first Christmas special mainstay aired on NBC. Produced by a fledgling animation studio, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer put Rankin/Bass, named after co-founders Arthur Rankin, Jr. and Jules Bass, into the public consciousness. Rankin/Bass’ brand of stop-motion animation (“Animagic”) was mostly outsourced to Japanese studio MOM Productions in Tokyo, under the direction of Tadahito Mochinaga. With the windfall of Rudolph, Rankin/Bass and MOM Productions delved into the realm of feature theatrical films. This review concerns their second feature film, The Daydreamer – a stop motion animation/live-action hybrid based on Hans Christian Andersen’s stories. The Daydreamer has starpower in its cast that no Rankin/Bass production had yet matched. But as one might expect from a Rankin/Bass film, there are narrative flaws abound. The Daydreamer, episodic in nature and alternating between live-action and animation scenes, suffers due to the inconsistent quality of the handful of Hans Christian Andersen adaptations it has and the kitschy live-action acting.

The young Hans Christian Andersen (“Chris”; Paul O’Keefe) is the son of a cobbler (Jack Gilford). Papa Andersen often has to face the verbal tirades of frequent customer Mrs. Klopplebobbler (Margaret Hamilton; it is difficult not to think of Hamilton’s portrayal of the Wicked Witch here). His struggling business often means he cannot pay the gangling Pie Man (Ray Bolger; yet another Wizard of Oz star). To take him away from these troubles, Chris will let his imagine run wild while napping. If he can only just find the mythical Garden of Paradise, all these troubles might vanish. One evening, the Sandman (voiced by Cyril Ritchard) promises him to guide him there. Along the way, Chris is subject to dreams that may seem familiar to the viewer. These dreams shift away from live-action into the signature Rankin/Bass animation – adapting “The Little Mermaid”, “The Emperor’s New Clothes”*, “Thumbelina”, and “The Garden of Paradise”. Elements of “The Ugly Duckling” and “Little Claus and Big Claus” also appear.

Among the many voice actors during these animation sequences are Hayley Mills (The Little Mermaid); Burl Ives (Neptune – I have never heard Ives’ voice so devoid of jaunt before); Tallulah Bankhead (the sea witch); Terry-Thomas (the first tailor); Victor Borge (the second tailor); Ed Wynn (the Emperor); Patty Duke (Thumbelina); and Boris Karloff (the Rat).

The film’s adaptations of Andersen’s tales differ in that Andersen himself becomes a character in each of the stories. The Daydreamer approaches the stories as if the ideas are only just forming in the young Chris’ head, to be written and published when he is an adult. Within these dreams-someday-to-be-stories, Chris is largely a passive character. He takes instruction from the central figures of his future tales, never really asserting himself or asking basic questions about the misadventures he goes through. Chris acts as if lost in his own imagination – which fits the conceit of the film. So when he awakens into the real world, the film’s pacing slams the brakes. In the real world, everyone except Chris is a caricature, somehow less realistic than the individuals appearing in the daydreams. The transitions between animation and live-action will take the viewer out of the film because of the unceasing manic acting in the latter, as opposed to the charming puppetry of the former. As such, The Daydreamer’s weaknesses lie almost entirely with the live-action scenes – too consciously playing to the audience and over-the-top in their absurdity.

In an era of American animation defined by Disney on the screen and Hanna-Barbera on television, Rankin/Bass carves out its own niche in how it tells its stories. The meta humor and fourth wall breaking of Hanna-Barbera’s works (a legacy of the duo’s work at MGM) makes no appearances here. Disney’s clean-cut fairytale endings also do not apply. The Daydreamer’s adaptation of “The Little Mermaid” does not have the gruesome premise as Andersen’s original fairytale, but it retains the ending’s heartbreak. There appears to be no alterations to “The Emperor’s New Clothes” – which includes Chris, but he just feels superfluous to the plot and to the tale’s keen comedy. Each of the film’s segments bring Chris closer to the final animated sequence, “The Garden of Paradise”. The adaptation of that tale sanitizes its deathly overtures for a devil-like creature, but keeps the ambiguous, open-ended conclusion. By maintaining the original conclusion, “The Garden of Paradise” is a curious coda for The Daydreamer – a film that ends as abruptly as its several transitions, like a daydream.

The Daydreamer’s live-action sets benefit, however, due to the fact many of its scenes were shot at the 1964 New York World’s Fair. The World’s Fair pavilions used in this film mimic a feel of small-town, nineteenth century Europe more realistically than a Hollywood soundstage might. The production design for the animated dream sequences, too, are mesmerizing. Perhaps this is best exemplified in “The Little Mermaid”. There, the special effects work make it appear as if the whole sequence was shot underwater, rather than a room that contained blue lights streaming into Neptune’s palace. Where are the strings and wires suspending the puppets in mid-air while they “swim”? To the animators’ credit, there are none to be found. Neptune’s palace is one of the grander sets constructed for a Rankin/Bass production; its imposing walls and generous empty spaces reflect a sense of regal grandeur. That royal otherworldliness does not extend to “The Emperor’s New Clothes”, but many of the same production design decisions carry over. Rankin/Bass and MOM Productions are obviously working with more money and manpower for these animated scenes than in the likes of Rudolph or their many holiday television specials. The sense of scale and grandiosity seen here in The Daydreamer and Mad Monster Party? (1967) would rarely, if ever, be replicated for television. And it is also obvious that the filmmakers put the money into the animation and for paying headline-worthy actors, rather than for any writers able to string the animated and live-action halves together.

Seven songs comprise The Daydreamer’s musical soundtrack. Composed by Maury Laws and Jules Bass, most of the songs are forgettable once your viewing is done (including Robert Goulet singing the title song over the opening credits, despite the fact I admire Goulet’s voice). But there are notable exceptions. Sung by Hayley Mills at the end of “The Little Mermaid”, “Wishes and Teardrops” brings the segment to a worthy close. Her loved ignored, the Little Mermaid sings this lament – backed with percussion straight from a ‘60s love ballad and timeless swelling strings – for herself:

Wishes and teardrops Won’t make him love me. He’s gone and he’ll never return. Does he know how teardrops can burn, When they fall for a wish That can never come true?

In the film’s final third, “Luck to Sell” injects a jolt of energy sorely missing from many of the other live-action scenes. The song itself is simple and the singing just avoids being flat, but when paired with the energetic choreography from Paul O’Keefe and company, it elevates itself from the rest of the soundtrack (save “Wishes and Teardrops”).

Not often will a viewer encounter a film with two sets of opening credits. I’m not writing about films that have an overture that transition to opening credits (an entirely different approach that modern filmmakers should utilize more), but two sets of opening credits that list the names of the actors involved. For the first set of credits, caricaturist Al Hirschfeld (uncredited) was hired to draw caricatures of the various actors and actresses appearing in, or lending their voices to, The Daydreamer. The Daydreamer is the second of three films that Hirschfeld was involved in. The first, appearing as himself uncredited, was in Main Street to Broadway (1953); his third and final film was as an artistic consultant on the “Rhapsody in Blue” segment (which was influenced by his caricatures) in Fantasia 2000.

Rankin/Bass’ ventures into feature film animation peaked several months later with Mad Monster Party? After that and the unfortunate production of The Wacky World of Mother Goose (1967; a traditionally animated eyesore), Rankin/Bass almost completely dedicated itself to its animated television specials. The Daydreamer, distributed by the now-defunct Embassy Pictures and currently owned by Sony Pictures Television (the ownership of the rights to Rankin/Bass’ features are exasperatingly scattered), has not been widely seen when compared to Mad Monster Party?, let alone Rankin/Bass’ television specials. If one can find a serviceable print of The Daydreamer, the viewing experience will be a valuable glimpse into the studio’s collaboration with MOM Productions. A Rankin/Bass fan that has only known the studio through its television specials will see their work operating with higher production values; Rankin/Bass novices can experience a dimension of animated filmmaking too often considered an afterthought.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

* “The Emperor’s New Clothes” was adapted twice by Rankin/Bass. The second adaptation is the heart of the television special The Enchanted World of Danny Kaye (1972), starring Danny Kaye. That adaptation of “The Emperor’s New Clothes” is distinct from the one that appears in The Daydreamer. The Danny Kaye special’s adaptation has a more developed storyline, completely different voice cast, and completely different soundtrack.

[dustedmagazine]

Slept Ons: The Best Records of 2020 That We Never Got Around To

Tattoos and shorts! How did we miss the Oily Boys?

It happens pretty much every year.  After much fussing and second-guessing, the year-end list gets finalized, set in stone really, encapsulating 12 months of enthusiastic listening, and surely these are the best ten records anyone could find, right? Right?  And then, a day or a week later, someone else puts up their list or records their year-end radio show, and there it is, the record you could have loved and pushed and written about…if only you’d known about it.  My self-kick in the shins came during Joe Belock’s 2020 round-up on WFMU when he played the Chats.  Others on our staff knew, earlier on, that they weren’t writing about records they loved for whatever reason — work, family, mp3 overload, etc. Except now they are.  Here.  Now. Enjoy.  

Contributors include me (Jennifer Kelly), Eric McDowell, Jonathan Shaw, Justin Cober-Lake, Bill Meyer, Bryon Hayes, Ian Mathers, Andrew Forell, Michael Rosenstein and Patrick Masterson. 

The Chats — High Risk Behavior (Bargain Bin)

High Risk Behaviour by The Chats

Cartoonishly primitive and gleefully out of luck, The Chats hurl Molotov cocktails of punk, bright and exploding even as they come. They’re from Australia, which totally makes sense; there’s a sunny, health-care-subsidized, devil-may-care vibe to their down-on-their luck stories. Musically, the songs are stripped down like Billy Childish, sped up like the Ramones, brute simple like Eddy Current Suppression Ring. Most of them are about alcohol: drinking, being drunk, getting arrested for being drunk, eating while drunk…etc. etc. But there’s an art to singing about getting hammered, and few manage the butt-headed conviction of “Drunk & Disorderly.” Its jungle rhythms, vicious, saw-toothed bass, quick knife jabs of guitar frame an all-hands drum-shocked chant: “Relaxation, mood alteration, boredom leads to intoxication.” Later singer Eamon Sandwith cuts right to the point about romance with the couplet, “I was cautious, double wrapped, but still I got the clap.” The album’s highlights include the most belligerently glorious song ever about cyber-fraud in “Identity Theft,” whose shout along chorus buoys you up, even as the dark web drains your savings account dry. The album strings together a laundry list of dead-end, unfortunate situations, one after another truly hopeless developments, but nonetheless it explodes with joy. Bandcamp says the guitar player has already left—so you’re too late to see the Chats live—but it must have been fun while it lasted.

Jennifer Kelly

Oliver Coates — skins n slime  (RVNG Intl)

skins n slime by Oliver Coates

2020 was a year of loss, of losing, of feeling lost. Whether weathering the despair of illness and death, the discomfort of displacement or the drift of temporal reverie, English cellist Oliver Coates creates music to reflect all this and more on skins n slime. Using modulators, loops and effects, Coates employs elements from drone, shoegaze and industrial to extend the range of the cello and conjure otherworldly sounds of crushing intensity and great beauty. Beneath the layering, distortion and dissonance, the human element remains strong. The tactility of fingers and bow on strings and the expressive essence of tone form the core of Coates composition and performance. If his experiments seem a willful swipe at the restrictions of the classical world from whence he came, the visceral power of a track like “Reunification 2018”, which hunkers in the same netherworld as anything by Deathprod or Lawrence English, the liminal, static bedecked ache of “Honey” and the unadorned minimalism of “Caretaker Part 1 (Breathing)” are works of a serious talent. skins n slime is an album to sit with and soak in; allow it to percolate and permeate and you’ll find yourself forgetting the outside world, if only for a while.  

Andrew Forell  

Bertrand Denzler / Antonin Gerbal — Sbatax (Umlaut Records)

Sbatax by Denzler - Gerbal

Tenor sax player Bertrand Denzler and drummer Antonin Gerbal released this duo recording last summer which slipped under the radar of many listeners. Denzler is as likely to be heard these days composing and performing pieces by others in the French ensemble ONCEIM, playing solo, or in settings for quiet improvisation. But he’s been burning it up as a free jazz player for years now as well. Gerbal also casts a broad net, as a member of ONCEIM, deconstructing free bop in the group Peeping Tom, or recontextualizing the music of Ahmed Abdul-Malik along with Pat Thomas, Joel Grip and Seymour Wright in the group Ahmed amongst many other projects. The two have worked together in a variety of contexts for a decade now, recording a fantastic duo back in 2014. Sbatax, recorded five years later at a live performance in Berlin is a worthy follow-up.  

Gerbal attacks his kit with ferocity out of the gate, with slashing cymbals and thundering kit, cascading along with drubbing momentum. Denzler charges in with a husky, jagged, repeated motif which he loops and teases apart, matching the caterwauling vigor of his partner straightaway. Over the course of this 40-minute outing, one can hear the two lock in, coursing forward with mounting intensity. Denzler increasingly peppers his playing with trenchant blasts and rasping salvos, riding along on Gerbal’s torrential fusillades. Throughout, one can hear the two dive deep in to free jazz traditions while shaping the arc of the improvisation with an acute ear toward the overall form of the piece. Midway through, Denzler steps back for a torrid drum solo, then jumps back in with renewed dynamism as the two ride waves of commanding potency and focus to a rousing conclusion, goaded on by the cheering audience. Anyone wondering whether there is still life in the tenor/drum duo format should dig this one up.  

Michael Rosenstein

Kaelin Ellis — After Thoughts (self-released)

After Thoughts by KAELIN ELLIS

To be sure, “slept on” hardly characterizes Kaelin Ellis in 2020. After a trickle of lone tracks in the first months of the year, a Twitter video posted by the 23-year-old producer and multi-instrumentalist caught the attention of Lupe Fiasco, quickly precipitating the joint EP House. It’s a catchy story from any number of angles — the star-powered “discovery” of a young talent, the interconnectedness of the digital age, the silver linings of the COVID-19 pandemic — but it risks overshadowing Ellis’s two 2020 solo records: Moments, released in the lead-up to House, and After Thoughts, released in October. It doesn’t help that each album’s dozen tracks scarcely add up to as many minutes, or that the producer’s titles deliberately downplay the results. And some, of course, will judge these jazzy, deeply soulful beats only against their potential as platforms for some other, more extroverted artist. “I’d like to think I’m a jack of all trades,” Ellis told one interviewer, “but in all honesty my specialty is creating a space for others to stand out.”

Yet as with all small, good things, there’s reward in savoring these miniatures on their own terms, and After Thoughts in particular proved an unexpected retreat from last fall’s anxieties. Ellis has a poet’s gift for distillation and juxtaposition, a director’s knack for pathos and dramatic sequencing — powers that combine to somehow render a fully realized world. As fleeting as it is, Ellis’s work communicates a generosity of care and concentration, opening a space for others not just to stand out but also to settle in.

Eric McDowell   

Lloyd Miller with Ian Camp and Adam Michael Terry — At the Ends of the World

At the Ends of the World by Lloyd Miller with Ian Camp and Adam Michael Terry

Miller and company fuse the feel of a contemporary classical concert with eastern modalities and instrumentation. The recordings sound live off the floor, and give a welcome sense of space and detail to the sensitive playing. Miller has explored the intersection between Persian and other cultural traditions and jazz through the lens of academic scholarship and recorded output since the 1960s. With this release, the performances linger in a space where vibe is as important as compositional structure. The results revel in the beauty when seemingly unrelated musical ideas emerge together in the same moment, with startling results.

Arthur Krumins

 Oily Boys — Cro Memory Grin (Cool Death)

Cro Memory Grin by Oily Boys

The title of this 2020 LP by Australian punks Oily Boys sounds like a pun on “Cro-Magnon,” an outmoded scientific name for early humans. It’s apt: the music is smarter than knuckle-dragger beatdown or run-of-the-mill powerviolence, but still driven by a rancorous, id-bound savagery. The smarts are just perceptible enough to keep things pretty interesting. Some of the noisier, droning and semi-melodic stretches of Cro Memory Grin recall the records made by the Men (especially Leave Home) before they decided to try to make like Uncle Tupelo, or some lesser version of the Hold Steady. Oily Boys inhabit a darker sensibility, and their music is more profoundly bonkers than anything those other bands got up to. Aggro, discordant punk; flagellating hardcore burners; psych-rock-adjacent sonic exorcisms — you get it all, sometimes in a single five-minute passage of Cro Memory Grin (check out the sequence from “Lizard Scheme” to “Heat Harmony” to “Stick Him.” Yikes). A bunch of the tunes spill over into one another, feedback and sustain jumping the gap from one track to the next, which gives the record a live vibe. It feels volatile and sweaty. The ill intent and unmitigated nastiness accumulate into a palpable force, tainting the air and leaving stains on your tee shirt. Oily Boys have been kicking around Sydney’s punk scene since at least 2014, but this is their first full-length record. One hopes they can continue to play with this degree of possessed abandon without completing burning themselves to down to smoldering cinders. At least long enough to record some more music.

Jonathan Shaw

 Dougie Poole — The Freelancer's Blues (Wharf Cat)

The Freelancer's Blues by Dougie Poole

A cursory listen might misconstrue the heart of Dougie Poole's second album, The Freelancer's Blues. When he mixes his wobbly country sound with lyrics like those in “Vaping on the Job,” it sounds like genre play, a smirking look at millennial life through an urban cowboy's vintage sound. Poole does target a particular set of issues, but mapping them with his own slightly psychedelic country comes with very little of the postmodern itch. His characters feel just as troubled as anyone coming out of 1970s Nashville, and as Poole explores these lives with wit and empathy, the songs quickly find their resonance.

The album, though it wouldn't reach for pretentious terms, carries an existential problem at its center. Poole circles around the fundamental void: work deadens, relocation doesn't help, spiritual pursuits falter, intelligence burdens, and even the drugs don't help. When Poole finally gets the title track, the preceding album gives his confession extra weight, a mix of life's strictures and personal limitation combining for a crisis best avoided but wonderfully shared. The Freelancer's Blues comes rich in Nashville tradition but finds an ideal fit in its contemporary place, likely providing a soundtrack for a variety of times and spaces yet to come.

Justin Cober-Lake

 Schlippenbach Quartett — Three Nails Left (Corbett Vs. Dempsey)

You might say that this record has been slept on twice. The second recording to be released by the Alexander von Schlippenbach, Evan Parker and Paul Lovens (augmented this time by Peter Kowald) was released in 1975, and didn’t get a second pressing — on vinyl — until 2019. So, Corbett Vs. Dempsey stepped up last summer, it had never been on CD. But this writer was so stumped on how to relate how intense, startling, and unlike any other free improvisation it was and is, that he just… slept on it. Until now. Even if you know this band, if you don’t know this album, well, it’s time you got acquainted.

Bill Meyer 

Stonegrass — Stonegrass (Cosmic Range)

STONEGRASS by Stonegrass

Released on the cusp of a tentative re-opening for the city of Toronto after two months of lock-down, this slab of psychedelic funk-rock was the perfect antidote to the COVID blues when it arrived at the tail end of a Spring spent in near-isolation. The jam sessions that became Stonegrass were also a new beginning for multi-instrumentalist Matthew “Doc” Dunn and drummer Jay Anderson, who reignited a spirit of collaboration after a decade of sonic estrangement following the demise of their Spiritual Sky Blues Band project. Listening to these songs, you’d never know they spent any time apart. The tight, bottom-wagging jams on offer are evidence that these two are joined together at the third eye. Anderson’s grooves run deep, and Dunn — whether he’s traipsing along on guitar, keys or flutes — is right there with him. There’s enough fuzz here to satiate the heads, but the real treat here is the rhythmic interplay. Strap in and prepare to get down. 

Bryon Hayes 

 Bob Vylan — We Live Here EP (Venn Records)

Bob Vylan flew under the radar in 2020 successfully enough that when someone nominated them for the best of 2020 poll in Tom Ewing’s Peoples’ Pop Polls project on Twitter (each month a different year or category gets voted on in World Cup-style brackets, it’s great fun and only occasionally maddening), most of the reaction was “is that one a typo?” Nobody had that response after listening to “We Live Here” — my wife also participates in the poll, so we just play all the candidates in our apartment, and Bob Vylan was the first time both of our jaws dropped in amazement; the song got played about ten times in a row at that point. Bobby (vocals/guitar/production) and Bobbie (drums/“spiritual inspiration”) Vylan’s 18-minute EP lives up to that title track, fireball after fireball aimed directly at the corrupt, crumbling, racist state that seems utterly indifferent to human suffering unless there’s profit in it. Whether it’s the raging catharsis of the title track or the cool, precise hostility of “Lynch Your Leaders,” Bob Vylan have made something vital and essential here, that very much speaks to 2020 but sadly will stay relevant long past it.  

Ian Mathers

 Working Men’s Club — Working Men’s Club (Heavenly Recordings)

It’s been evident these past few years that I’ve retreated from music and committed myself to the slower world of books as a way of giving my mind a break from the accelerating madness outside, but I could never really leave my radio family the same way I could never really leave Dusted. Another great example why: A fellow CHIRP volunteer played “John Cooper Clarke” in a December Zoom social I actually managed to catch, and I’ve been addicted to Working Men’s Club’s debut LP from October ever since. The quartet hails from Todmodren, a market town you won’t be surprised upon listening to discover is roughly equidistant between Leeds and Manchester; the album screams Hacienda vibes in its seamless integration of post-punk signifiers and dancefloor style. It’s easy to bandy about names from Rip It Up and Start Again or even The Velvet Underground in 12-minute closer “Angel,” certainly one of the most arresting tracks of the year, but the thing that struck me immediately is that this was the record I’d always anticipated but never got from Factory Floor — smart, aloof and occasionally calculated, yet still fun enough to play for any crowd itching to move. Until the community of a dance party or Working Men’s Club live set is once again possible, patience and a fully formed first album will have to suffice. You’ll have to imagine the part where I corner you at the party to rave about it, I’m afraid.

Patrick Masterson

[dailyaudiobible]

11/28/2020 DAB Transcript

Daniel 5:1-31, 2 Peter 2:1-22, Psalms 119:113-128, Proverbs 28:19-20

Today is the 28th day of November welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is great to be here with you today as we bring another one of our weeks together to a close and then make the final push through the end of this month and into the next month, which is the last month of the year. But we’re here and we’re here now and our next step forward will lead us back into the book of Daniel. We’re reading from the New International Version this week. Daniel chapter 5.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word and once again we find ourselves closing down a week and looking forward. And once again in that practice, looking back, looking forward and being right here where we are, we get a glimpse of this thread of redemption that has always been a part of our story. You have always been here, and You are at work in our lives. Sometimes we want You to be at work in our lives and want some sort of instantaneous thing to happen when Your work in our lives is the work of transformation, of remaking us, of sanctifying us. And this is a process that takes place over time. And, so, we find ourselves at little places that mark time, like the end of a week or the beginning of a week and we take the time to acknowledge this, that things are happening. When we look back to the beginning of the year and we zoom forward until this present moment things are happening, You are at work in our lives. This is how it works. And, so, we open our hearts and say continue the work. Continue the good work that You have begun in us. Transform us so that our will, aligns with Your will, so that our desires are things that You desire. And, so, often when we say things like that it's about big things that we’re fighting, maybe lust, or greed, or envy, or whatever we’re fighting, but to have our desires be aligned with Your desires is that we look through the eyes of love at everyone that we encounter. Come Holy Spirit, help us to be Your image bearers on this earth we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it is the website, it’s where you find out what's going on around here.

And it's…I guess its officially Christmas time around here, the holiday shopping season, all of the stuff that goes into…into the season itself is upon us. And, so, it's the same here. I mentioned yesterday the Daily Audio Bible Shop is definitely full of items for the journey that we are on and there’s wonderful items there to give away and there’s wonderful items there to hold onto for yourself. And normally we have a Christmas box but with Covid and everything this year we decided it's better that we don't try to do that because it wasn't clear we could do it excellently. But we have the Daily Audio Bible ornament, the Christmas ornament that we make each year with the words of the year on in the year that it represents, and we’ve been doing that for a bunch years now and we didn’t want to not have that. So, we do. And it's just, make your own Christmas box this year. If you spend $40 or more in the Daily Audio Bible Shop, we will send you the 2020 Christmas ornament along with your order. So, check that out. That is going on right now while supplies last.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible in this season you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There’s a link on the homepage. If you’re using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement 877-942-4253 is number to dial or just hit the Hotline button in the app, it’s the little red button up at the top and you can share from there no matter where you are in the world.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning everyone from Budapest this is John, John in Budapest and the many of the longtime listeners will know me as Paul in Barcelona. I know we all have our fun nick names and mine is rather boring, but Paul in Barcelona has moved to Budapest and taken his middle name of John as his nickname. So, I’m John and Budapest now. Okay? And doing quite well with my Hungarian by the way. So, you know, also if anyone wants to follow me on Facebook look for John Ransom in Budapest. So, John Ransom. So anyway, that’s not the cause of this message, the cause of this message is to just ask for special prayer for both Brian and Jill but also the entire staff during these very frenetic holiday season days. And I also want to kinda do a shout out for someone many of the new listeners will not know – SJ, SarahJane in Colorado in the DAB warehouse. And they’re gonna be going through just craziness starting from now. And, so, I just want us all to lift them up in prayer, you know, that they would have all the resources they need. They’re shipping out all those goodies to all of us and…but they’re…it’s not just what they do, it’s who they are. And they’re just pillars of the DAB from the very beginning. SJ has, you know, was in the UK, formerly organized some of the first European meetings. I could go on and on. So, we just pray for you. I also want to give a shout out to Victoria Soldier. Victoria I was praying for you this morning as I had breakfast with Abba and I just love your sweet spirit and your powerful prayers. Blind Tony and so so many others I send you much love and it’s a pleasure to be on the pod waves again with you. God bless.

Hey this is the Prodigal calling in. Just listened to the pain and the heartbreak of Terry the trucker. He’s back out in his truck again because of this plague and I just beg God to let the devil take his foot off…off Terry’s neck and give him some peace, he and his wife. They’ve been together 32 years, a lot longer than me and mine. And he needs some comfort. And only you Holy Spirit and the Lord Jesus Christ can give him that comfort. So, please God I beg that You…sorry I just worked out…You give him some peace, some release, some grace. Shine Your light on him. Let him rise up and get back in with his wife and with all the losses and everything lead as normal life as possible. We’re all challenged, we’re all plagued. It’s part of the human condition these days and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna get better for a while. So, please just…I beg You’d help everybody who calls in with cancer and MS and divorces and loneliness and depression. Unfortunately, I’ve had all those simultaneously and it sucks. So, Terry I know how you feel brother and it broke my heart dude. So, I’m praying for you. Always love to hear your calls. And you keep on drivin’ keep on truckin’ brother and God’s there with you. He’s riddin’ with you in the truck. He’ll heal ya. He’ll help ya. He’ll lift you up. Praying. And only …

This is I am Blessed from Canada and I don’t call in very often, but God is prompting me so often to call in and I don’t know why I don’t. So, in the midst of doing my dishes right now listening to the prayers I thought, “here it comes again. God’s prompting.” And I’m not gonna ignore this time. I just want to let God’s Yellow Flower know that you are in my heart, my thoughts, my prayers. Praying for Keith. Love you and can only imagine how difficult this is. You bring a smile to my face. The talk about the pounding of the concrete. I wonder whether that’s on Cordon Avenue or Pembina Highway or I don’t know I’ve driven by so much construction lately and I think of my other fellow Winnipeggers like Nave. Where you these days? And I’m just so thankful that there is community out there. And I think so often as I drive down, “I wonder if anyone out here is a DABber?” And it’s just such a big part of my life and I just thank you Brian for that. And I thank You Lord for everything for You have done and that You’ve called Brian to do and his faithfulness and for the faithfulness of others that call in. It’s just so valuable. Thank you, Jesus for these people.

Hey there Daily Audio Bible family this is John from Bethlehem Pennsylvania I hope you are doing awesome. I wanted to say first of all happy Thanksgiving to everybody it is Tuesday the 24th November, hard to believe. But happy Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving week. There’s so much to be thankful for. Family if you would be so kind as to keep a couple people in mind for me. We’ve got a good friend her name’s Jill and she’s on our worship team for our church in Easton Pennsylvania and she’s having some complications after having surgery…and…with some infection. If you can keep Jill in mind, that God’s amazing power and healing and mighty touch would be on her for healing and wholeness and health and peace and comfort and bring her through that, I…I’d greatly appreciate it. And then, if you could keep Pastor Randy and Maribel Landis in mind as well, they…they tragically lost…they’re the senior pastors for our church, Life Church here in the Lehigh Valley in Pennsylvania…and they tragically lost their son Randall who’s in his 30s last week. Pastor Randy and Randal, his son were doing mission work in the Dominican and his son got a mosquito bite and tragically died two days later of dengue. So, it’s a tragic time as it is for so, so many. I love you guys and covet your prayers over all these folks in Jesus’ name. Thank you.

Hello, my dear Daily Audio Bible family. How are you? I am so thankful for you for the Hardin family, thankful for technology that we can go through the Bible together in community during this pandemic in this crazy year. I am so thankful for all of you who prayed for our coworker Barb. The surgery to remove the tumor that was behind her ear in her skull was a complete success. They didn’t think that they would get all of the tumor, but they did, 100%. Not only that, her nerves in her face all the things that she was concerned about were totally protected and she has complete use, function of her nerves. Thank you, Lord we are so grateful. Today Brian read the passage about spouses with…well…with Christians with unbelieving spouses. I want to pray for some of those people. Lord, I want to lift up Radiant Rachel to You and Joe and all of the people in our Daily Audio  Bible community who love You and seek You, who worship You and whose spouses are not walking with You. Father, I just pray that You would do mighty work through these brothers and sisters of ours, that You would help them to be Jesus to their spouses and that You would be convicting the hearts of their unbelieving spouses so that they would see Your love and their sin and their need to…need to bend the knee before Your Father. Also, for our friends who are in that same boat Lord, please just touch the hearts of the spouses. Happy Thanksgiving Daily Audio Bible. Talk to you later. We love you.

[thepurplebutterflythings]

Blind Date (Part 2 of 3) - Jake Peralta

Gif: brooklynninenine on Tenor

Word Count: 2.5K

Paring: Jake Peralta x (f)Reader

Summary: Y/N serves her mother and her co-worker, the infamous Raymond. The Squad meets Y/N

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I ADORE Jake and Amy as a couple, but, obviously, in this they aren’t together.

Masterlist

Requested: Anon

________________________________________________________________

‘Isn’t your mother in tonight?’ James, the bartender, said as he polished the glasses for the night. Y/N groaned and let her head fall into her hands.

‘Don’t remind me,’ she huffed, ‘any chance you’ll give me a shot or two?’

‘Don’t think Harold would approve now, do you?’ James chuckled, grabbing the tequila anyways, pouring two out, one for her and one for him, sliding one across the bar.

‘Well, if his mother was succubus, he’d be hitting the bottle right now too.’

‘Have you checked the reservations to see when she’ll be in?’

‘I don’t need to – I’ll feel a disturbance in the force,’ Y/N sighed handing the shot glass back to James. James shot her a look. ‘She always comes in at the same time. It hasn’t changed for years, James. Mother will be here at eight on the dot – wearing her uniform, no doubt, hat under the arm indoors as it’s always rude to wear a hat inside.’

‘I do not envy you tonight.’

‘Thanks, James,’ Y/N scoffed as she got to her feet and walked to the kitchen to grab her apron to start her shift.

________________________________________________________________

Eight on the dot, and Y/N was right. As she collected someone’s drink from James, Y/N looked to the door and saw Wuntch standing and waiting with her hat under her arm, wearing her neatly pressed uniform and a proud look on her face. Y/N knew that the prideful look wasn’t because she was looking at her successful daughter, but because other customers were looking at Madeline in awe.

‘Told you,’ Y/N said quietly to James before giving the customer their drink. Y/N knew not to approach her mother until her fellow worker came, and Y/N would be able to tell who they were. Almost always the fellow diner was wearing their uniform as well. By order of her mother? Perhaps. It wasn’t as though Y/N could ask. She just presumed.

Soon after, Y/N saw a man enter. Relatively taller than her mother and very little hair on his head. The hair that was visible was a salt and pepper type, skin close and in the position from changing to the black from youth to the grey of aging. He also wore a crisp pressed uniform, but his was of a Captain. Y/N knew the difference. That was the que, Y/N plastered a fake smile on her face and walked towards her mother and the Captain.

‘Madame, Sir,’ Y/N nodded politely, ‘Welcome to Masa, shall I show you to your table?’

‘Yes,’ Wuntch nodded firmly.

As her mother and the man sat down, Y/N handed them their menus.

‘So, Madeline,’ The man said, ‘what made you choose food and not some poor unsuspecting soul to drain the blood from?’

Y/N bit down on her tongue to stop herself from laughing.

‘Oh, Raymond,’ Wuntch said. Y/N controlled her reaction. This was the infamous Raymond that her mother despised so much. He wasn’t anything like Y/N had imagined. ‘I thought that you would be the vampire out of the two of us, after all, you’re so close to dust now, aren’t you?’

‘Well,’ Y/N said in a chirpy voice that servers had to use, ‘I’ll leave you for a minute to look over the menus.’ She said before walking off and approaching James with large eyes before leaning over the bar. ‘That guy is Raymond!’

‘THAT’S the guy your mum hates?’ James said, eyes bulging, peering around Y/N to look at the man. ‘Why’d I imagine him taller?’

‘Forget that – why’d she bring him here?’ Y/N whispered. ‘She’s spent her whole career hiding me and now she risks that with bring her mortal enemy here?’

‘Well, you take more after your pa than mummy dearest.’

‘Still.’

‘I don’t know.’ James shrugged. ‘Maybe she’s getting sloppy.’

________________________________________________________________

All night, Y/N grinned and bared it her mother, and it seemed that Raymond was doing the same. Every time that Y/N approached their table, Raymond looked as though he’d find it more pleasurable to shoot himself in the foot. She had to fight the urge to give him a sympathetic smile. The more she witnessed, the more Y/N realised that Raymond wasn’t the villain that her mother acted he was. He was just a poor guy who was stuck dealing with Madeline Wuntch.

‘I sincerely hope that you found your meals and drinks enjoyable,’ Y/N said sweetly, ‘if you want desert, I shall be more than happy to get you the menus, if not would you like me to get the check?’

‘Just the check, please,’ Raymond spoke quickly, ‘I must be getting home to my husband.’

‘Of course, Sir,’ Y/N nodded, ‘I will go get the check,’ she said before turning to Wuntch and bowing her head, ‘Madame.’ She then went to get the check, returning not even a minute later, placing it on the table, dead centre. This way, Y/N had learnt, the customers can decide who is buying without the server getting caught up in the hassle.

‘Thank you,’ Wuntch gave a tight lipped smile before grabbing the check and looking over the price. ‘Give the chef my compliments, waitress.’

Y/N bit down the inside of her lip. It infuriated her to no end that her mother kept calling her ‘waitress’ when, officially, she was a server. There was a difference. Her manager had warned her of that when she applied for the job. You weren’t a waitress, you were a server – you served an experience. You had to know your wines, your oysters, your spices and herbs, you had to know culture and art and history and literature. It was years for some before they get their stripes and were servers instead of trainees. And her mother stuck up her nose and discredited all the work and effort Y/N had put into the years of working at Masa.

‘Madeline, do not discredit the server,’ Raymond tutted, catching both mother and daughter off guard, making them turn and look at the man. ‘A waitress and a server are very different. I dated a man who worked at a high-end place such as Masa,’ he explained to Y/N, ‘the amount of effort needed for the work and training you have to do before you earn your stripes is commendable,’ he told her.

‘Thank you, sir,’ Y/N, for the first time all night, broke out in a genuine smile. ‘It’s a lot of work, but work I am happy to do, for I love my job.’

‘Please, call me Raymond,’ he said, ‘perhaps Kevin and I shall come here for our anniversary this year,’ he commented absently.

‘Here,’ Wuntch said, snatching Y/N’s attention and thrusting the check back into her hands with the money. ‘Raymond,’ Wuntch nodded before getting up and leaving. Y/N rolled her eyes as she watched her mother walk from the building. She sighed and counted the money. Cost for the meals, the wine, and a tip. Y/N frowned as she looked at the tip, less than 1%. Typical mother, she thought.

‘Is all the money there?’ Raymond asked curiously, seeing her face.

‘Yes,’ Y/N assured him, ‘apologies, Raymond, I didn’t mean to alarm you.’

‘No, no, it is more than alright,’ Raymond said, ‘tell me, what made you so troubled?’

‘I shouldn’t say, really.’

‘Now, would I have asked if I did not want to know?’ He insisted.

‘She tipped less than 1%.’

‘I am incredibly sorry, Miss, you deserve far more than that,’ Raymond said as he pulled his own wallet out, grabbing a handful of notes and gave them to her.

‘Oh, no, no, no, I couldn’t,’ she said, ‘I wasn’t trying to get more.’

‘Please, I insist,’ Raymond said, ‘after all, I know Madeline has bought a lot of unfortunate victims to Masa in the past, so I presume you have had the poor luck to deal with the she-devil before.’

‘We have a saying when she comes in,’ Y/N chuckled as she hesitantly took the cash from him, ‘Watch out, watch out, the Wuntch is about!’

Raymond unleashed a giddy laugh, throwing his head back and revealing perfectly white teeth to all around him.

‘Oh, I like that!’ He declared, ‘would you mind if I use that?’

‘Go ahead, sir.’

‘Raymond,’ he corrected kindly.

‘Go ahead, Raymond.’

________________________________________________________________

‘Oh, are you sure they want to meet me?’ Y/N asked Jake hesitantly as the elevator took them to the second floor. Today was the day that she was to meet his co-workers, the 99. Y/N was beyond nervous at this point. She knew Gina, yes, but if the rest of the squad didn’t like her, then what did that mean for their relationship, for they were like a family.

‘They’re dying to meet you,’ Jake assured her, ‘and they’re going to love you.’

‘I hope so,’ Y/N mumbled as the doors opened to reveal the bullpen. There stood two women Y/N had never met before next to Gina, who gave her a comforting smile and wave, and two other men, one large like a gladiator, the other stocky with a uncontrollable grin.

‘Guys,’ Jake smiled as he and she stepped from the elevator and into the bullpen. ‘This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the 99.’

‘Hello,’ Y/N waved awkwardly.

‘Hi, I’m Terry,’ the gladiator man nodded formally.

‘I’m Charles, and I’m thrilled to meet you.’

‘Rosa.’

‘And I’m Amy, and I want to meet the woman who’s managed to get Jake to stop having a can of spray cheese as his lunch.’

‘Well, here I am, and I hope I don’t disappoint.’

‘Where’s Captain Holt?’ Jake asked, looking around.

‘Why?’ Amy smirked playfully, ‘Want daddy’s approval?’

‘What? No!’ Jake scoffed dramatically, looking around for his captain. ‘But, where is he?’

‘Office,’ Terry said, gesturing behind him to the closed door. ‘He should be nearly done. He’s on the phone with One Police Plaza.’

As soon as Terry finished his sentence, Captain Holt’s door opened and outstepped the man himself. Captain Holt. Y/N looked to see that it was Raymond, from Masa, from dinning with her mother. Her mother’s worst enemy. She was dating the protégé of her mother’s worst enemy. Y/N gulped as Holt walked over and smiled friendly at her.

‘Hello again,’ Holt nodded in greeting.

‘So, is it Raymond, or Captain?’

‘Raymond.’

‘You’ve met?’

‘Yes. Raymond has dinned at Masa.’

‘She’s a wonderful server.’

‘Always nice to hear!’

________________________________________________________________

They sat in the break room as they all chatted away. Raymond hadn’t brought up Madeline Wuntch, and it didn’t seem like he would, so Y/N could breathe easier. She stopped tensing and just relaxed as her and the squad talked. It was nice.

‘Captain?’ said a large, older man coming into the room. ‘Wuntch is here.’

‘Wuntch?’ Y/N gulped. Oh, no, no, no, no. Her mother? It had to be. There was no other Wuntch she knew of.

‘Thank you, Scully,’ Raymond said getting to his feet and straightening his tie. Raymond gave a small quirk of the lip, ‘Watch out, watch out, the Wuntch is about.’

‘Clever,’ Rosa snorted in amusement.

‘It is Y/N’s rhyme. She has had the misfortune of serving Madeline,’ he said before strolling from the room.

‘You know Madeline Wuntch?’ Jake asked with a frown.

‘Jake, Wuntch cannot see me here, trust me!’ Y/N said, ignoring the question and confusion. The rest of the squad frowned and looked at each other in confusion as well. ‘Please!’

‘Alright, alright,’ he nodded, ‘let’s sneak you out of here.’

Everyone got to their feet and Jake gestured to Rosa to hand her leather jacket over, which she did. Amy and Rosa walked out and stood by Holt to keep Wuntch’s attention while Jake hid Y/N beneath the jacket and had Terry and Charles try and hide her hidden form behind their bodies. With slow steps, Y/N followed Jake, holding his hand. She heard her mother talk to Holt – they whipped insult after insult at each other. Y/N was so close to the gate but then she heard Wuntch.

‘And what is your little understudy hiding beneath Detective Diaz’s jacket?’ She said. Y/N gulped, hearing her mother’s shoes approach. She felt the woman’s hand on the jacket and pull it off, revealing Y/N to Madeline. Madeline stared at her daughter in shock, mouth hanging open. ‘Y/N?’ She blinked at the sight of Y/N standing in the 99.

‘So you know the poor girl’s name?’ Holt scoffed, ‘you just loved calling her ‘waitress’ when at Masa. Everyone always talks about how you have the same server and cannot even be bothered to learn her name, and yet, you know it – you just choose not to use it.’

‘Wait, you serve Wuntch at Masa?’ Jake looked at Y/N. ‘All the time?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you said the only person you serve repeatedly is your mother,’ Jake said. Y/N closed her eyes, wanting to disappear as she felt Jake next to her put two and two together. ‘Wuntch is your mother.’

Y/N opened her eyes and looked Madeline in the eyes. Madeline stared back.

‘Unfortunately so,’ she said. Madeline’s face noticeably changed in shock.

‘Madeline,’ Holt tutted as he walked over, hands behind his back, ‘did you send your daughter as a honeypot for my best detective?’

‘Please,’ Y/N scoffed, ‘she’d never dream of it, cause then she’d have to admit that she had a daughter.’

‘Excuse me?’ Madeline scowled.

‘Come on, you cancel on me all the time, only use me for seats at Masa, never refer to me by name when there, you can’t even be bothered to take your eyes off your damn paperwork when we’re in the same room.’ Y/N listed, ‘you’re ashamed of me, just say it. You always have been – you gave me to Dad the moment I popped out the womb, didn’t you? Hardly came for Birthdays, never sent me a Christmas card. I don’t exist to you.’

‘Maybe I hid you because I feared my rivals would use you against me.’

‘Bullshit,’ Y/N huffed, ‘your feud with Raymond always meant more to you than I ever did.’

Madeline still stared at her daughter, flames in her eyes. Y/N had disobeyed and made herself known, even if it was against her will, and, on top of that, she was dating a detective.

‘Y/N!’

‘Look, Mother,’ Y/N sighed, ‘I don’t care. I don’t care if you hate Jake, cause I love him. I don’t care if you’re ashamed of me, cause my life doesn’t revolve around your approval. I don’t care. I’m done. Just leave me alone,’ she said before turning on her heel and closing the elevator behind her, leaving the building.

‘Madeline…’

‘Leave it, Raymond.’

‘What do you think I’m going to say?’

‘That I am a terrible mother,’ Madeline said with a cracking voice, still looking at the elevator her daughter disappeared to.

‘I was actually going to ask why you hid her.’

‘I didn’t know what to do,’ she confessed, turning to face Raymond and the others. ‘I never planned to be a mother, I don’t know how to love my daughter. It’s difficult for me.’

‘Well, she is a lovely young woman.’

‘In spite of me,’ Madeline chuckled darkly as she wiped a stray tear away. ‘She became all that she is without me.’

‘Why’d you treat her like that?’ Jake asked.

‘I thought she was so much better off without me, that it is easier to have her hate me than love me.’

[the-vinyl-review]

John Martyn, Solid Air 1973.

John Martyn is widely known for his Folk music but the man was so much more than that. He had a masterful use of jazz, blues and rock as well and all of this is utilised sublimely in this truly magnificent album. Solid Air is an album that has received universally acclaim continuously since it’s release. It’s an album that showcases Martyn’s wide musical range and adaptive vocals.

The song Solid Air is nothing short of a masterpiece with Danny Thompson’s Deeply long and lazy sounding double bass lines. There’s beautifully simple keyboards timed along with the bass and Pentangles Terry Coe’s easy saxophones subtlety play the song out. The song is apparently about Martyn’s good and troubled friend the late great Nick Drake, another favourite of mine. Drake unfortunately took an overdose a year later. Martyn’s wife was also suffering depression and lays claim that the song could have also been about her.

The first part of ‘I Don’t want to know’ centres around Martyn’s acoustic Guitar, and there are similarities to previous song at first. The vocals are more prominent and halfway through the song lifts slightly with keyboards and a backing singer.

‘I’d rather be the devil’ as a guitarist he was known for his technical brilliance and this in parts sounds like an early version of Pink Floyd’s ‘Run like Hell’ as he churns outs the lyrics. Martyn’s songs have an incredible way of changing pace and the change towards the end here is eloquently done.

Dreams by the Sea is a heavier, more Funky sounding song. There’s lots on offer here and the drums are busier. Martyn’s guitar has a great twang and there are also faster jazz segments and faster vocals.

Solid Air has great variations in style and John Martyn knows exactly how to execute and incorporate all these styles. After 22 studio albums you are bound to have hits and misses but this is an album that can do no wrong.

Album cover 7/10

Music 9/10

Record quality 8/10

[luthienebonyx]

Yuletide Recs

This is the first time in about five years that I've participated in Yuletide, and I was the very lucky recipient of two lovely gift fics, both of which gave me exactly what I wanted for their respective fandoms. I've also done recs for nine other stories that I enjoyed a lot. My two gifts: Peelian Principles Fandom: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch Author's summary: "You're very calm about this," Seawoll said on the fifth day. Characters: Peter Grant, Thomas Nightingale, Alexander Seawoll, Martin Chorley, Sahra Guleed This is Nightingale's POV during the period in Lies Sleeping when Peter was held prisoner. I really felt the lack of Nightingale after I read Lies Sleeping, and this story does a terrific job of satisfying the ache I had to know what was going on with him. This is a fabulous portrait of Nightingale. I particularly love all the little, Nightingale-ish ways in which he betrays that he's frantically worried about Peter. I love this story and would rec it even if it wasn't written for me - but it WAS written for me, which just makes it all the better. Who Interrupts the Act Fandom: Sebastian St Cyr Mysteries - CS Harris Author's summary: Sebastian just wants to reunite with his wife. Unfortunately for him, everyone else seems to have other ideas. Characters/Pairing: Sebastian St Cyr/Hero Jarvis I asked in my request for a story in which Sebastian and Hero at least try to be a normal Regency titled couple without a murder or some sort of mystery getting in the way for at least a little while - and this story has fulfilled that beautifully. The setting has been realised in just the right way and the constant interruptions provide little cameos for various other characters. I love the clues to a possible case that each visitor brings, and would really love to read about it at some point. Sebastian and Hero have other things on their minds, however. ;) I'm just so happy that this story exists! Other recs: A love so much refined Fandom: Devil's Cub - Georgette Heyer Author's summary: "Your transformation into a doting husband astounds, but you must also be seen out and about in order to ensure no one questions the legitimacy of the story we've concocted." Characters/Pairing: Dominic Alistair/Mary Challoner, Justin Alistair, Leonie Alistair Devil's Cub has a certain something about it that sets it a little apart from Heyer's other works for me. I'm not quite sure exactly what that certain something is, except that this story has nailed it. It feels like the world of Devil's Cub. It's Dominic's POV, and I do love the way he's written here, but all of the characters are done well - most particularly Justin - and the married relationship between Dominic and Mary is everything I could have asked for. The Bones of the Hills Fandom: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, The Tiffany Aching series - Terry Pratchett Author's summary: The old people called the biggest flints 'calkins', which meant 'chalk children'. Characters: Tiffany Aching, Nac Mac Feegle The Nac Mac Feegle find an orphaned baby troll, and the usual sorts of things ensue. This story manages to capture not just Tiffany and the Nac Mac Feegle but the essence of Pratchett. The dialogue and Tiffany's POV are both top-notch, but the pun… OMG, the pun - or play on words - towards the end is as terrible as the best puns always are. Madalena and the Dark Dark Evil Wings Fandom: Galavant Author's summary: The day that Madalena wakes up with wings is a good day. Characters: Madalena, Wormwood Oh, man, post-canon Madalena wing fic!!! I loved Madalena's POV all through this, her shallowness and self-absorption and utter disdain for anyone who isn't her, and her delight in her beautiful black Dark Dark Evil Wings. I loved the Dark Dark Evil Everything in this, and had to stop to listen to 'Do the D'DEW' when I was halfway through reading. Precedent Fandom: The Good Place Author's summary: What do you do when God kisses you? Characters/Pairing: Chidi Anagonye/Eleanor Shellstrop Set during Season 4. Eleanor kisses Chidi and Chidi is plunged into a crisis of indecision (more than usual). Chidi's constantly stressed running inner commentary is VERY him, and I can also hear Eleanor clearly in her dialogue. I love the point he's at when the story reaches its end. Never Be Anyone Else But You Fandom: The Marvelous Mrs Maisel Author's summary: Susie Myerson is on tour with her favourite (only) client. It could be worse. Characters/Pairings: Midge Maisel/Susie Myerson, Midge Maisel/Lenny Bruce This is a fabulous character study of Susie and her many feelings about Midge the entertainer and Midge the person. I loved how brash her inner voice is, even when she's reflecting on past pain and unhappiness. Need Against Need Fandom: Mindhunter Author's summary: At the end of the hall there was another door, a bedroom door, Bill suddenly realized, and his breath caught. Holden opened it without hesitation, and Bill followed him across the threshold. Characters/Pairing: Holden Ford/Bill Tench A small window into Bill's deepest and darkest desires. This story is short and intense, and suits the canon and the characters really well. The Snow Woman Fandom: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch Author's summary: Teresa Nightingale and Peggy Grant deal with someone freezing people to death in London. Characters: Peter Grant, Thomas Nightingale A genderswap/Rule 63 case fic. Peter/Peggy's narrator sounds just right, and I particularly love this Nightingale, and all the ways in which she is so very much a female product of the Edwardian age while still being very much Nightingale. Through All the Years, This is My Home Fandom: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch Author's summary: At night, when the rest of the staff and most, if not all, of the masters were asleep, Molly would wander the moonlit halls and remember what fresh air felt like on her skin. Of Molly, of Thomas, and of the years they've spent together - and of the Folly, strong and everlasting. Characters: Molly, Thomas Nightingale This is a lovely character study of Molly through the years, and about her bond with Nightingale - and with the Folly itself. If You Could Only See the Beast You've Made of Me Fandom: What We Do in the Shadows (2014) Author's summary: One must never lose sight of what's really important, even especially if one is a werewolf. Characters/Pairing: Stu, Nick, with a hint of pre Stu/Nick Stu POV after he becomes a werewolf. This story made me laugh and laugh and laugh. The Stu voice is perfect, and there are so many great lines that the story left me with a huge grin on my face.

[houston-notlikethecity]

A Hockey Life by Matt Cullen

Part 1

One of the worst parts about growing up was having to make a malt.

Don’t get me wrong, the ingredients are pretty simple. And I loved drinking them. But if I had to make a malt, that meant one thing: I lost a hockey match on our outdoor rink.

My father, Terry, built an outdoor hockey rink in our backyard. Me and my two younger brothers, Mark and Joe, spent every spare minute we had on that ice. We’d come home from school, change and hit the rink. Every birthday party was on the rink. We hooked up lights onto the roof and would play until it was dark and all we could see were the bright Minnesota stars above.

All I’ve ever known in my life is hockey. My earliest childhood memories were on that rink in Virginia, Minnesota. That’s all I really wanted to do as a kid, was be on the rink and play with my brothers and friends. There was nothing better in life. I know it’s the same story for a lot of guys, but that’s how I fell in love with hockey.

If we weren’t spending our night in the backyard, we were usually attending one of my father’s high school games. From my youth until I was 10 years old, my father was the hockey coach for the Virginia Blue Devils. And I imagined myself being a Blue Devil one day. But when I was in the fourth grade he took over as coach of the Moorhead Spuds.

(I remember being so mad. I didn’t want to be a spud. I wanted to be a Blue Devil! They had such a cool logo. What even is a spud? A potato? We’re going to be potatoes? It’s so funny thinking back at how upset I was at the time).

I still remember going to watch my dad coach. My friends and I collected programs and would tear out the pages. If our team won the game we would count down the final seconds and throw those pages into the air like confetti and celebrate like we just won the Stanley Cup. In between periods my brothers and I would play mini sticks with the team doctor in the hallway.

When we got home there was always one final chore for the night. We shoveled off the outdoor rink and flooded the ice so that it would be nice and solid for the next day. On the nights before a big game or tournament Dad would bring out a bucket of hot water. It was like we were Zamboni-ing it. It felt like big time. The ice would be super smooth after. The stakes were high.

And those tournaments could get pretty intense. My father, my brothers and me would mix teams for a 2-on-2 matchup. The losing team had to make the winning team malts and serve them to the winners.

So if I was making the malts, it meant that I had lost. But if I had won, then the losing team had to make malts for me and my teammate. The only thing better than the sweet taste of victory was the sweet taste of drinking that malt.

Part 2

In Minnesota, high school hockey is king.

We didn’t have NHL on the Fly or ESPN Hockey. The NHL was another planet. To kids growing up in Minnesota in the 80s, playing for your high school team was the dream.

My favorite moments were when my dad would let me in the locker room. I was in awe of the high school players and wanted to be them one day. For me, it was the equivalent of my children being in the locker room with Sid and Geno.

To us Minnesota kids, high school hockey was the NHL. And playing for the state championship was our Stanley Cup.  

Every year my family would drive three-and-a-half hours south to the St. Paul Civic Center to watch the tournament, whether my dad’s team was in it or not. I remember it had clear boards and was filled with 15,000 people watching. It was the highlight of my whole year. It was like a holiday.

My best memories of my high school career at Moorhead was playing in that tournament. For a kid growing up around high school hockey, that was the ultimate. I played in the tournament during my sophomore, junior and senior years. Unfortunately, we never won the title, but we were runner-up twice and finished third the other year.

What sticks out most was my senior year. I was playing with my brother Mark and we had a good team. That year I started thinking that I was good enough to maybe play in college and maybe, someday, the NHL. We made the state tournament again that year. We faced Rochester in the semifinal and the game went into double overtime. I scored the game-winner to get us to the final, though we didn’t finish it off in the last game of the season.

Losing was tough. Obviously, I wanted to win. But I think losing in those games was good for me in the long run. Losing in the finals and never quite getting there, I felt like there was maybe more I had. I felt that this isn’t my big moment. There’s maybe more ahead. I don’t know why I thought that. I’m not sure where it came from. But going through my head during that defeat was that my big moment was still to come.

Part 3

I jumped over the boards at Maple Leaf Gardens and skated to the faceoff circle to square off against Hall-of-Famer Mats Sundin. It was October of 1997. Two years ago I was just a high school senior.

Now a member of the Anaheim Ducks, I was about to skate my first career shift in one of the NHL’s most historic venues. I lost the faceoff, a defensive zone draw. The Maple Leafs had a shot on net and the coach called me off the ice. It was a short shift, but I’ll never forget it.

Everything was so new to me. I was living in California on my own, the farthest I’ve ever been away from home. I was balancing all these new experiences from dry cleaning, being on the road and keeping up with an apartment. Not to mention learning how to play in the NHL.

Being a rookie in the league was a lot different back then. I was really quiet my first year, if you can believe that. We had an older group and the rookies were treated like rookies. We only spoke when spoken to. I came home from the rink one day and called my brother and I said ‘You won’t believe this, but I didn’t say one word at the rink the entire day. I was there for five hours, didn’t say one word to anybody.’

My welcome to the NHL moment happened on Day 1. Teemu Selanne walked into the room and took out his skates. He hadn’t skated the entire summer and his skates had rust on them. He threw them on and was the best player on the ice from the first day. I was thinking, 'This is crazy. This is a whole new level of hockey.’ I was on a line with Teemu that first year and he scored a career-high 52 goals - but believe me, it was no thanks to me.

I spent most of my four seasons in Anaheim skating alongside Teemu and Paul Kariya. And they taught me so much about the game.

Teemu was such a fun-loving, easy-going guy. He loved the game. He just played for fun and enjoyed it. Paul was super intense and serious, the ultimate pro. It was super cool to see both sides of them.

But the thing I learned the most that year was from Paul, who was also my roommate on the road during my time there. He taught me how to be a pro. He was super structured and detailed, trained like crazy. He showed me how much you have to commit, how much you had to put in to being a pro if you wanted to be good at it.

Paul would stretch every night before going to bed, so I started stretching every night. I think that was one of the biggest reasons I was able to stay healthy throughout my entire career and play until I was 42 years old. I stretched throughout my whole career.

Coming out of high school I was pretty green. I didn’t realize that in an 82-game season you should be working out. I didn’t do things like that.

I always think back to spots in my career and people that came across my path, I think it’s for a reason. I learned so much from Paul, who remains a close personal friend to this day. Without his guidance I don’t think my career would have gone where it did.

Part 4

My hockey career hit a crossroads in the summer of 2005. I was 28 years old and worried that my career might be coming to an end. My last year in Anaheim and the next year-and-a-half with Florida were unmemorable. Then the NHL lockout happened. I knew if I had another bad season, retirement might come earlier than I anticipated. You can fall off the map pretty quickly in the NHL.

Then came a dilemma. Two teams called me with a contract offer. One was my hometown team, the Minnesota Wild. The other call came from Carolina Hurricanes general manager Jim Rutherford.

Minnesota was my hometown and was offering more money. Carolina seemed a much better fit and I already had built a relationship with Peter Laviolette, who coached me with the U.S. at the World Championship.

The chance to come home to Minnesota seemed too good of a dream to pass up. Going to Carolina would require a huge risk and huge leap of faith. I talked with my wife Bridget and we prayed. Something told me to take the risk and go to Carolina.

We had an interesting group. There were some unknowns like Eric Staal, Justin Williams, Andrew Ladd, even myself. There were also some older, veteran guys like Ray Whitney, Cory Stillman, Rod Brind'Amour and Brett Hedican. We had Martin Gerber in goal and a rookie, Cam Ward, as the backup.

Sports Illustrated picked us to finish 30 out of 30 teams. But everything came together in a way that I never experienced. We got off to a great start and things just worked out. I scored 25 goals and had one of my best years. We finished second in the East and added guys like Mark Recchi and Doug Weight at the deadline.

We opened the playoffs against Montreal at home and lost the first two games. It was awful. I was thinking our great season was coming to an end. We switched goalies and Cam stepped in and he was lights out. He played unbelievable and won the Conn Smythe.

We beat Buffalo in Game 7 to get to the Stanley Cup Final and faced Edmonton, a Cinderella team that was an eighth seed in the West. We had a chance to win the Cup on home ice in Game 5, but lost in overtime. Then we went to Edmonton and got pounded.

Game 7 was back in Carolina. It was the most fun game I’ve ever played in. The crowd didn’t sit the entire game, they stood the whole time. It was intense. I hadn’t experienced that before. I was nearly 30 years old, but I felt like a little kid.

We battled and held on for a 3-1 win, and you can’t even believe it’s actually happening. After Aaron Ward handed me the Cup, I did a quick twirl. There was a sold-out crowd in the building, but when I looked up all I could see was the Minnesota stars and the hanging lights on that outdoor rink growing up.

All those games I played with my brothers and friends, pretending to be playing for the Stanley Cup, and there I was, holding this trophy high above my head and living that dream.

Our families joined us on the ice for the celebration. And I remember all those times when things didn’t work out. Not winning Minnesota’s Mr. Hockey as the best high school player (with all due respect to Erik Rasmussen, of course). Not getting drafted in the first round.

And I remembered that feeling of losing in the state final my senior year, when I believed that my big moment was still to come. And this was it. This was the big moment I was waiting for. We reached the pinnacle of the hockey world: Stanley Cup champions.

And no one will ever take that away from us.

But what I really took away from that group of guys was leadership. There were a lot of good leaders on that team, and they all weren’t wearing letters on their jerseys. You see it takes a large group of leaders on your team to win.

And for some of those older guys, this was their only and last chance to win a Cup. You see how fleeting your opportunity is for winning a championship. They fought so hard for it. They put so much into it. It was eye-opening to see how much it meant to them.

I know I’ve said it before, but really do believe everything happens for a reason. Instead of playing it safe, taking more money and playing in my home of Minnesota, I took a chance on Carolina. I went into that year thinking it could be my last one in the NHL. And I ended it by lifting the Stanley Cup.

Part 5

There are few things I loved more than coming home after a game and flooding my own outdoor rink. I would drive home, put on my warm clothes, fill a thermos with some wine and go outside and drink it while I flooded the rink.

By that time I was back in Minnesota, having signed a contract with the Wild. My chance to come back home came true after all. And it seemed like the perfect time to go home, play out those three years, retire a Wild and live in Minnesota.

By that time, I also had a family. Three young boys of my own: Brooks, Wyatt and Joey. And for the first time in my life, it was my job to build the rink in the backyard. I had never done it before, but it was so fun. I felt like I was my dad.

I wanted to give my boys all the things that I had growing up, except now I’m the old guy flooding the rink. They were still very young in those years. Joey had just been born a few months before (I actually watched him being born on Skype from my hotel room while I was playing with Ottawa in the playoffs against the Penguins).

When I skated on that outdoor rink, it was the first time I had done so since I left my home in Minnesota in 1997. I was just as excited as the kids to be on the outdoor rink. It was the coolest thing. It certainly brought back a lot of memories, but mostly I felt my life coming full circle.

That included sharing in the Cullen family tradition of attending the Minnesota high school tournament. We actually saw a young Jake Guentzel skating there for Hill Murray on that ice sheet. I definitely didn’t think I’d see him scoring 30, 40 goals in the NHL alongside Sidney Crosby one day. It’s funny how it works out.

But those three years in Minnesota, it was really about family. We spent holidays at home with my boys and the entire family. It was a really special experience getting to play at home. I really enjoyed it. It gave the kids the experience of growing up on the outdoor rink.

It was during that time in Minnesota that they started to really love the game. For me as a dad, that was the ultimate to be able to share it with them.

Part 6

The phone didn’t ring on July 1, 2015, the annual start to NHL free agency. I had just finished two great years in Nashville, but my future was still unclear. I still wanted to play even at 38 years old, but I was pretty sure that it was the end.

That day came and went without a call. Then the next day came and went. Then the next week. Then the next month. Even so I continued to train and keep myself ready just in case an opportunity came up. At least I would be in shape and could make a decision for myself. I didn’t want it made for me because I was out of shape.

One day in early August, the phone rang. It was Jim Rutherford.

Bridget was out for a run. When she got back, I said, 'You’ll never guess who just called.’ And she goes, 'Was it Jim?’ It was crazy. She just knew.

As usual with these decisions we talked for a while and prayed on it. But we felt like we kept getting these opportunities and it would be crazy not to jump on it and give it a try. We took that leap and went to Pittsburgh.

The rest speaks for itself. We won back-to-back Stanley Cup championships the next two years, the first team to do so in two decades. It was a historical run.

I just pinch myself and think about how close it was to not happening. Those were probably the best years of my whole career and life with the Penguins. Going through all that with the boys and Bridget and that group of players, the whole organization, everything was perfect. It was beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

I certainly couldn’t have imagined it the way we started that first season, though. We had such a terrible start that nobody had any expectations. I remember my son Wyatt coming to me at Christmas and crying because we had dropped out of the playoff picture.

Then Mike Sullivan came and we made a bunch of changes. Things started rolling from there. It was a unique group. It was a special group. That first year everything came together, and we were having so much fun. We were like a machine, all the way to the Cup.

The second year it was the same group, but it was a totally different year. We had to really lean on each other the most that year. The expectations were high going in and it brought our group closer together. It was rewarding because we stuck together through so many ups and downs.

I’ll always have the Cups and those memories. But when I think back on those times what really stands out is watching my boys with those guys. A lot of the guys would come over to my house, Chris Kunitz, Nick Bonino, Sidney Crosby, Ian Cole, Marc-Andre Fleury, Phil Kessel, Carl Hagelin. We’d all have a couple glasses of wine and the guys would play mini sticks with the boys (the most intense games were between the boys and Patric Hornqvist; I know you’re shocked).

That, for me, was the coolest thing ever to watch. It was like the boys were part of the family. They’d come in the locker room after practice trying to avoid doing homework. They’d steal gum. One time, Joey hid in Ian Cole’s change stall. He jumped out and scared the crap out of him.

Those are the memories I’ll treasure, probably more than anything. Just seeing them around the room every day. I know the boys will remember it forever.

Part 7

I’ve been in a constant state of almost-retirement for the last few years. But coming into this last season, I knew that no matter what it would be the end. Even if we had won the Cup I would have been done. Playing those last few years really gave me the clarity to know this was it.

It was an emotional time, but I knew it was coming. It just felt right and I was really at peace with everything when it was over.

I felt like it was only right to retire in Pittsburgh with everything that the organization had given me and done for me. I’m so happy I came back and finished my last year in Pittsburgh. I wouldn’t trade that last year for anything.

I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting. More than anything I’m just so appreciative of everybody that helped me along the way. Looking back on it there are people that came into my life at the right time to lead me one way or teach me something. It’s not an easy thing to play for that long of a time. It takes so many people to step out of their way to help you, and I needed a lot of help!

And the friends I’ve made along the way, whether it was Eric Staal or Mike Fisher or Ryan Suter or Paul Kariya or the guys in Pittsburgh. There are just too many to name and I’m sorry if I left anyone out.

I just hope I had a positive impact with my teammates wherever I went. I tried to be the best teammate that I could be throughout my career, and be there for other people, try to be a good example.

But the biggest lesson I’ve learned from my 21 years and 1,500-plus games in the NHL is that you have to take a risk.

By my nature, that’s not me. I’m not a risk-taking guy. I think you’re given certain opportunities in life and if you’re willing to take a risk and throw yourself in all the way then special things can happen. For me, that was the case. We leaned on our faith a lot and took leaps of faith. Thank God we took those chances and opportunities where He was sending us.

I remember waking up in the middle of the night many times these last few years thinking, 'What am I doing? I’m 40 years old. I don’t think I can play another year in the NHL.’ After each time I signed the past few years I woke up in a cold sweat, not sure if I could still play.

Honestly, if I could play forever, I would. All I know is hockey. I’ve never done anything. I never wanted to do anything else. I don’t know anything else.

I may have skated my last shift, but I’m not hanging up my skates just yet. After all, there is a sheet of ice in Minnesota that needs to be flooded every night. That’s where you’ll find me, sipping my thermos. Maybe, even using the hot water to get the surface nice and smooth so the next day me and my three boys can have our own little intense 2-on-2 tournament with a malt on the line, skating in the open air, on the outdoor rink, under the hanging lights, under the Minnesota stars.

For me to be able to take them to the rink and play with them on the ice, as a dad, that’s as good as it gets. I couldn’t ask for more. That’s what I had as a kid and to be able to share it with my kids is my greatest joy.

It’s funny. When I was a kid, I used to hate making those malts. Nowadays, it’s not so bad.

[Whitney’s note - all images are from the original story. Please click through to the source, there’s also a video that goes along with this]

[hqoffline]

Youtube future never end

The Red Devils made it clear he will then take on a similar role to his Lokomotiv job for the next two seasons.īut Rangnick’s side are still negotiating the final details of his contract, with a possible clause allowing him to continue as boss if he wants to. United have reached an agreement with Lokomotiv Moscow’s head of sports and development to become their interim manager. The German, 63, is yet to agree a move to Old Trafford, with details of his role at the end of the season still not finalised. Ralf Rangnick has not ruled out becoming Manchester United’s permanent boss in the summer, writes NEIL CUSTIS. That’s obviously not good news for other teams.” “Man United will be organised on the pitch. “He’s a really experienced manager, built two clubs from nowhere. When asked about Rangnick’s arrival, he said: “Unfortunately a good coach is coming to England, to Manchester United! Should Rangnick complete a move to United, Liverpool boss Jurgen Klopp says it's 'not good news' for other Prem clubs. United have been keen to bring in a new manager after they sacked Ole Gunnar Solskjaer following the 4-1 away defeat at Watford. The 63-year-old joined the side in the summer on a three-year deal as their Head of Sports and Development.īut the former RB Leipzig gaffer has since reached an agreement with the Red Devils to take charge on an interim basis until the end of the season.

United are sweating over the appointment of Ralf Rangnick with Russian club Lokomotiv Moscow yet to grant him permission to leave. However, ESPN claims that interest from the Premier League big boys and the centre-back’s wage demands could ‘complicate’ negotiations. He is out of contract in 2023 but Barcelona want to reward his progress with a new five-year deal. The defender has since broken into the first-team squad and the Uruguay national side. The 22-year-old star arrived at the Nou Camp from Uruguayan side River Boston in 2018. Ten Hag is a highly respected coach across Europe and has helped guide Ajax to the top of their Champions League group, winning all five of their played fixtures.īarcelona are reportedly fearing that Manchester United or Liverpool could snatch highly-rated prospect Ronald Araujo. The Premier League outfit also recently handed £39million for Donny van de Beek in 2020, with Van Der Car playing a key role in the deal. United and Ajax have a healthy relationship with Red Devils legend Edwin van der Sar working as the Dutch club's chief executive. The 51-year-old is believed to be interested in taking the long-term role at the Red Devils and Ajax will NOT stand in his way if he wants to leave at the end of the season, despite having a contract at the club until the summer of 2023. Pochettino is favourite to take over from soon-to-be interim manager Ralf Rangnick next June.īut according to the Daily Mail, should United fail in their attempts to lure the Argentine back to England - where his family live - they will turn to Ajax boss Ten Hag.

He's not a mechanic he's a Doctor Who villain.Manchester United will reportedly turn to highly rated Ajax boss Erik ten Hag next summer if they're unsuccessful in their pursuit of Mauricio Pochettino, writes JOSHUA MBU. This means that Terry the clock tower guy is secretly responsible for all the major events of Back To The Future Part II and, by extension, Part III. It's this little spat that inspires Biff to go back to that particular day, because getting out of paying an auto mechanic is apparently the greatest achievement of his life. Terry actually interacts with Old Biff in 2015: He complains that the cheap bastard never paid him for his work 60 years ago, even mentioning the exact date. Well, a deleted scene explains the connection and reveals that this random man might be the most important character in the whole franchise. Of course, they never really explain why Biff picked that specific date, other than the producers presumably wanting to reuse the sets from the first movie.

The Tannen family has single-handedly kept Hill Valley's shit remover industry afloat for generations.Īt first glance it seems like just a crazy coincidence, the same person appearing in 2015 and in 1955 on the exact day that Old Biff travels back to.

[sportsconvergence]

Week Nine Picks – Post A2 Thoughts

After an enjoyable trip to the People’s Republic of Ann Arbor this past weekend, you might think I’m ready to guzzle down several gallons of Maize and Blue Kool-Aid, leap on the Jim Harbaugh bandwagon, and serve up a full-throated justification for Michigan making the College Football Playoff.

You would be wrong.

It’s true the Wolverines are vastly improved over last year and they are playing some good football.  It is entirely possible they could finish with double-digit wins at season’s end.  But, there are several issues that are keeping them from reaching playoff level, namely:

Edge containment on the defense is weak, making them susceptible to misdirections.

Michigan’s wide receivers cannot get separation downfield and they don’t block well, which limits the effectiveness of screen passes and sweeps.

Quarterback Cade McNamara is a nice game manager, but in the rare instances where he attempts passes over 15 years, he forces his throws into coverage.  He also throws behind the sticks on 3rd and long plays, hoping his receivers can improvise enough to pick up the first down.

Play calling continues to lack a killer instinct, repeatedly settling for field goals on 4th and short inside the 5 yard line.

Still, they are 7-0 despite these issues.  Will they make it 8-0 as the schedule gets tougher?  Well…

Michigan State over Michigan – It pains me to type that, but I’m sensing a loss in East Lansing for Jim Harbaugh.  I think the issues cited above will hurt them against an unbeaten Sparty that’s had two weeks to prepare.  Yes, I know there is a revenge factor here following the surprising loss to “Little Brother” in Ann Arbor last season.  But I don’t think it will be enough.  I’ll certainly be pulling for the Maize and Blue, but I think they’ll fall just short. 

Appalachian State over Louisiana-Monroe – The Warhawks have been playing respectably under first year head coach Terry Bowden.  But they have a long way to go to catch up with the Mountaineers, who are no doubt feeling a LOT better about their season following last week’s win over Coastal.  I like them to win this one with relative ease at “The Rock” on Saturday afternoon.

Clemson over Florida State – Oy!  Clemson could be looking at a quarterback controversy.  But frankly, whoever is behind center is not the issue.  Poor offensive line play, inadequate receivers, and lack of any running game are the bigger problems.  Their defense is starting to tire out as well (spending way too much time on the field).  All that said, however, the Tigers are still much better than the Seminoles and will rebound with a nice win at home. 

Western Kentucky over Charlotte – Did you see where Charlotte is moving to the American Athletic Conference?  Alas, no more CONFUSA in the Queen City.  That move will bring a good bit more moolah to the 49er coffers.  Unfortunately, that money can’t help them in their visit to Bowling Green, KY this weekend.  Even when losing, the Hilltoppers score a lot of points.  They will do so again this weekend, sending Charlotte home with the L.

Wake Forest over Duke - So, the day before Halloween, the Demon Deacons battle the Blue Devils? That sounds like a title for a movie on “Monster Chiller Horror Theater” (oooh…scary!).  The ones who should really be scared here are the visitors from Durham.  Their defense is terrible and they are facing a team that just put 70 points on the board.  They might do that again this weekend, except I think folks in the ACC are feeling sorry for Duke coach David Cutcliffe.  Still, the Wake machine rolls on toward the meat of their schedule by thumping the Blue Devils by at least 21.

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Malfoy's Cat and The Necessary Rules for Survival

               Gossip is a constant but unfortunate norm at Hogwarts. Before the war, it was over superficial things; who was dating who, was that really their nose or just a glamour, or even who was to be blamed for the loss of fans for professional Quidditch?

                After the war, the gossip changed. Oh, it was still about who is dating who, no that really is a glamour and the popular consensus was that it was entirely the Chudley Cannons fault for the downfall of Quidditch fans.

                But…

                Something else was bothering a lot of students. Draco Malfoy.

                There was a margin of people that disliked the Slytherin because of who he was. Snarky, rude, pretentious, ex-Death Eater, all around bastard and current boyfriend of one Harry Potter.

                However, the majority of the students were too distracted to notice all of that. The appearance of the cold blonde for his eighth year was overshadowed by Malfoy’s cat.

                A small, tiny, little kitten. The cat was so small that most people worried it had been taken from its mother too soon. Which was a strike against Malfoy. Some suspected by the cat’s incredibly disheveled black fur, that the Slytherin didn’t properly care for the poor thing either. Not to mention the feline was left to its own devices a lot of the time. The cat could be seen running around the halls chasing peeves, sprinting outside chasing butterflies, or racing down corridors in pursuit of bullies.

                Because, yes, Malfoy’s kitten disliked anyone speaking negatively of others. Which was honestly ironic considering the cat loved Malfoy. That much was obvious by the loud purring the animal would emit at the sight of the Slytherin.

                The cat was the main topic of conversation, even half-way through the year.

                “It’s got to be a devil-cat.” Justin whispered to his friends, the whisper carried around the quiet of the library.

                “I heard that it’s claws are sharper than knives.” Ernie told them sagely.

                “The eyes are where you can tell it’s really evil. They just follow you around wherever you go.” Mumbled Michael as he looked around to make sure the cat wasn’t in sight.

                “The cat freaks me out.” Hannah piped up. “I can’t live like this!”

                 “Sounds like you all need some rules to abide by, to ensure you don’t anger the evil cat.” Luna sing-songed on her to put away a book.   

                That had them all scrambling to get close and begin arguing over the best guideline for survival. Word of mouth passed quickly and by lunchtime a list was being formed.

                Malfoy's Cat and the Necessary Rules for Survival.

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 Rule Number One: Don’t insult, hex, curse, sneer at, or judge Malfoy.

                Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table, not bothering to eat anything. A small whining noise had him rolling his eyes as he continued to read his potions book. “I’m not hungry.”

                The small stab of claws into his thighs had Draco cursing angrily before slamming his book on the table and peering down at his annoyingly troublesome cat.  

                A small tongue was peeking out of the cat’s mouth and bright eyes blinked unnervingly at him.

                No. He wasn’t going to succumb to the charms of the kitten. He fought in a bloody war for Merlin’s sake! This was easy in comparison. He was in control, not the cat. He was in control.

                ‘Meow’

                Oh god.

                Draco sighed heavily as he picked up his fork and debated about shoving the animal off his lap. He didn’t even bother looking at the monstrosity sitting on him, he knew there would be a smugness to those stupidly pretty eyes and that was just not acceptable.

                “Hey Malfoy!”

                The grating voice of Zacharias Smith had him sighing internally as he pushed the urge to curse the boy away. Fighting wouldn’t exactly win him any favors in the public eye.

                “I’m talking to you.”

                The statement had Draco rolling his eyes. “Yes, the words coming out of your mouth would signify this. I am not deaf. However, if you continue to yell in such an undignified manner, you may accomplish that.”

                A small wet nose rubbed against his hand and it had Draco peering down at his cat for a moment. When a rough tongue licked his palm, he shook his head and let out a small sigh but didn’t remove his hand.  

                “You speak as if you have any social standing.” Smith continued, unaware that Draco was barely paying him any mind.

                “As if you weren’t on the opposite side. The ugly mark on your arm proves that you should’ve never come back. No one wants you here.”

                Draco didn’t bother looking up at the idiot as he set down his fork and opened his book to a random page. “What’s your excuse then? I may have this one ugly mark but you aren’t exactly getting compliments from any mirrors lately.”

                The whooshing of air nearby let him know that the boy had pulled out his wand. Still wasn’t enough to have Draco looking up.

                Low hissing had everyone at the nearby tables quieting down to pay attention to what was happening.

                A hostile, angry noise that would have been intimidating if it weren’t for the fact that it came from such a small animal, had Draco’s lips quirking upward.

                Smith snorted derisively. “What are you going to do, have your cat fight your battles for you?”

                “That’s exactly what I am going to do.” Draco mumbled under his breath as he turned the page. Magic in the corridors and the Great Hall would get him an unnecessary detention. No thanks.

                “What d—” Smith was cut off by his own loud screech when the cat lunged right for his face.

                “Ow!” The cry was painful and definitely improved Draco’s mood. “Call it off!”

                Draco hummed a tune he unfortunately picked up from Lovegood as he pretended to not hear the pained noises coming from the Hufflepuff.

                “Is that blood?” A first year asked in horror.

                Draco stood up and packed his stuff away before he walked up to Smith. He snorted at the way the cat’s claws were embedded into Smith’s face and the boy was holding onto the back legs, attempting to pull the fiery kitten off.

                At the touch of his hands on the cat’s back, the claws retreated and Draco was able to cradle the cat to his chest.

                “Come on Trouble, we have better things to do.”

                The cat climbed on top of Draco’s shoulders and peered over them, ears twitching.

                “I think it’s glaring at me.” Smith’s paranoid whisper had Draco smirking dangerously as he walked out of the Great Hall.

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Rule Number Two: Don’t Hit on Malfoy.

                “He looks so approachable when he is with his cat.” Romilda Vane whispered to Ginny as they watched the Slytherin work on homework, while the boy also had a free hand petting the cat. A loud purr rumbled around the quiet of the library.

                “I promise you that he’s not.”

                Romilda rolled her eyes and shoved the redhead playfully. “He can’t still be that broody. I am sure self-growth has taught him some things and is probably nicer.”

                Ginny arched her brows in disbelief and let out a small snort. “I promise you that he’s not.”

                “Well, I am going over there to talk to him.” She stood up and checked her appearance in the glass of the window next to her.

                “I wouldn’t if I were you. Harry is his boyfriend.” A small pause. “And I thought you still held the hopes of being with him anyways.”

                “I don’t see Harry anywhere.” This was said with a wink and a flirtatious smile. “I’ll take what I can get, that’s my dating motto.”

                “So that’s where your low standards came from.” Ginny mumbled when she knew the girl was out of earshot. She rested her chin in her hands and waited to see the disaster unfold.

                Romilda opened her mouth but before she could say anything, “Go away.”  

                Draco didn’t care who was there nor did he want to be bothered. His horrendous runes essay was almost done.

                “I was thinking that maybe you might want to go to Hogsmede with me this weekend.”

                A harsh hiss was the only warning she got before the cat sprang onto the table and adopted a threatening pose.

                “That’s not happening.” Draco rubbed his temples as he sat his quill down and looked up at the Gryffindor eyeing his cat with scared eyes. “I have a boyfriend.” He knew that this wasn’t news, nor was it a mystery just who his boyfriend was. So, why would she attempt this farce?

                “Harry doesn’t have to know.” She pressed with a wink as her eyes were momentarily off the kitten. “He’s never even around lately, I don’t even see you two togeth-” She let out a scream when the cat lunged at her.

                By the time Madame Pince came around to see what the commotion was, Draco already had his stuff packed away and was angrily making his exit, mumbling about ‘stupid girls and troublesome cats’.

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Rule Number Three: Don’t Bad Mouth Malfoy, even if he isn’t around to hear about it.

                “I just don’t understand why Potter is wasting his time with someone as desperate as Malfoy.” Terry complained loudly as he walked down the halls with his friends.

                “I wouldn’t say that if I were you.” Luna chimed in mysteriously as she skipped by with a small wave.

                Terry arched a brow. “Why? Because you are friends with Potter and trust his obviously flawed judgment?”                

                Luna shook her head loosely, allowing blonde hair to curtain her face in the process. “No. Because his cat can hear you.”

                That had Terry looking around rapidly, hoping to see an empty corridor. He straightened up when behind him a small black cat with piercing green eyes were narrowed right at him.

                “I didn’t mean it.” His hands were raised in surrender. “Your owner is…” It was obvious that he was struggling to come up with a positive.

                “I would run.” Luna suggested cheerfully as she paused to watch Terry take her advice.

                The pounding of footsteps down the hall could be heard, drawing several bystander’s attention.

                Luna looked down when she felt a small lick to her leg. She bent over to run her fingers through the cat’s hair. “Go get him.”

                A small ‘Meow’ emitted from the cat before it took off running down the hall, tail swishing angrily.

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Rule Number Four: Don’t Attack the Cat, Ambushes are Futile.

                “I don’t think this is a good idea.” Terry whispered from his vantage spot in the tree. “I mean that cat is a menace.”

                Zacharias rolled his eyes. “Which is exactly why we are trying to get rid of it. Don’t you want to walk freely without those beady eyes staring at you?”

                Yes. There was something seriously wrong with Malfoy’s cat. But attacking the animal was just mental.

                “Why am I the one in the tree?” Terry complained instead of answering the question.

                “Because I just had these robes cleaned. I wasn’t going to sully them.”

                Terry rolled his eyes and debated shoving the Hufflepuff into the black lake.

                “Something’s wrong.” Zacharias whispered when the cat was a no show. “Every night after dinner, that bloody thing comes out to play with the Bowtruckles.”

                That had Terry leaning over the branch and blinking rapidly at the other boy. “Merlin, you are obsessed.”

                “Well, to accomplish my goals, I need to be determined.” Zacharias told him with a nose in the air. “Besides, you won’t be complaining when—”

                ‘Meow.’

                Both boys froze in horror before looking up. There, sitting on a branch, a few feet higher than Terry, was Malfoy’s cat.

                Zacharias only paused for a moment before taking off towards the castle in a run, abandoning the Ravenclaw completely. The sound of Terry’s scream as he was knocked out of the tree by the small kitten only confirmed the Hufflepuff’s belief that it would have been a mistake to have helped out.

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                “I don’t see the cat.” Ernie pointed out one night during dinner.

                That had several whispered conversations fueling the rumor mill as everyone began wondering where the cat was.

                Draco pushed away his plate as the bland flavors did nothing for him. The hand on his thigh tightened and it had him rolling his eyes before he looked into pleading green ones.

                He knew that he shouldn’t have looked into his annoyingly troublesome boyfriend’s eyes. Damnit. He was stronger than this!

                “Please.”

                Draco huffed angrily before picking up his fork and taking a bite of mashed potatoes. He didn’t bother looking away from his plate, the smug look would only irritate him.

                When a wet appendage touched his palm, Draco snapped his gaze to Harry. “I swear on everything that I own, if you just licked me, I will kill you.”

                Harry smirked lightly before he leaned over to whisper in Draco’s ear. “It doesn’t bother you when I’m in my animagus form.”

                “Yes.” Draco agreed. “But that’s completely different. It’s normal for cats to lick people.”

                Before Harry could respond, a new voice interrupted.

                “Finally got rid of the cat?” Smith sneered on the other side of the table. “It was rather pathetic having your pet fight for you. I mean, if you don’t have the skills to match me, then just say so.”

                Draco rolled his eyes, ignoring the way Harry tensed. “Your skills in stupidity far outmatch mine, you should be proud.”

                The familiar feeling of air whooshing past had Draco wondering if he was reliving the same day just with different circumstances.

                Harry stood rapidly and drew out his own wand.

                That had Smith scoffing at the both of them. “Are you going to allow your boyfriend to fight your battles for you?” Despite the angry question, there was palpable fear detected. This was Harry Potter with a wand out after all.

                Draco glanced at the Head Table and noticed that McGonagall was looking over. “Yes, that’s exactly what I am going to do.” Plausible deniability. He couldn’t get detention if Harry was the one fighting.

                Harry took one step towards the obnoxious boy and that was all it took before the Hufflepuff turned around and ran.

                With the show over with, Draco entwined his fingers with Harry and began pulling him towards the exit. “I am in a generous mood and feel like I should repay my own personal savior.” There was a wicked glint to silver eyes and it had Harry quickening his pace.

                Whispers broke out when the duo left the Great Hall.

                “I heard that Potter broke some bloke’s nose for insulting Malfoy.”

                “I heard that his magical strength has surpassed anyone alive.”

                “That’s nothing, you should have seen the anger in his eyes when Flint came into the Three Broomsticks and tried to hitting on Malfoy.”

                “It would seem that you need more rules.” Luna piped up as she gazed at the ceiling with a spacy expression and a small smirk.

                And that is how, Malfoy’s Boyfriend and the Necessary Rules for Survival came about next.  

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Slightly longer than intended but hopefully you still enjoyed it!