#Covers First Magazine At 5-Years-Old

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Xia Meng, also known as Hsia Moog or Miranda Yang (Sunrise, Bride Hunter)—For those who are familiar with Hong Kong's early cinema, Xia Meng is THE leading woman of an era, the earliest "silver-screen goddess", "The Great Beauty" and "Audrey Hepburn of the East". Xia Meng starred in 38 films in her 17-year career, and famously had rarely any flops, from her first film at the age of 18 to her last at the age of 35. She was a rare all-round actress in Mandarin-language films, acting, singing, and dancing with an enchanting ease in films of diverse genres, from contemporary drama to period operas. She was regarded as the "crown princess" among the "Three Princesses of the Great Wall", the iconic leading stars of the Great Wall Movie Enterprises, which was Hong Kong's leading left-wing studio in the 1950s-60s. At the time, Hong Kong cinema had only just taken off, but Xia Meng's influence had already spread out to China, Singapore, etc. Overseas Chinese-language magazines and newspapers often featured her on their covers. The famous HK wuxia novelist Jin Yong had such a huge crush on her that he made up a whole fake identity as a nobody-screenwriter to join the Great Wall studio just so he can write scripts for her. He famously said, "No one has really seen how beautiful Xi Shi (one of the renowned Four Beauties of ancient China) is, I think she should be just like Xia Meng to live up to her name." In 1980, she returned to the HK film industry by forming the Bluebird Movie Enterprises. As a producer with a heart for the community, she wanted to make a film on the Vietnam War and the many Vietnam War refugees migrating to Hong Kong. She approached director Ann Hui and produced the debut film Boat People (1982), a globally successful movie and landmark feature for Hong Kong New Wave, which won several awards including the best picture and best director in the second Hong Kong Film Award. Years later, Ann Hui looked back on her collaboration with Xia Meng, "I'm very grateful to her for allowing me to make what is probably the best film I've ever made in my life."

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Xia Meng:

Marlene Dietrich:

ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face

its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies…. most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you.

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

[faghubby]

Family help

"Paul, Judy tells me you wear panties" Kelly giggled. Kelly was my sister in law. I had been married to Judy for 15 years. For the last 5 Judy has controlled our marriage and cuckold me for most of it. I didn't answer Kelly I just stared at my shoes.

"Don't worry it can be our secret, just like how John's truck got detailed. She handed me a bucket full of car cleaning material. I just took it and went to clean my brother in laws truck. I wondered what else Judy had told her sister. As I cleaned the truck. I was at it for about 2 hours when Kelly came out with a glass of tea.

"Judy was right you do nice work. Is it true you did her boyfriends car wearing only a thong" Kelly asked. I just nodded. "Well I am sure my neighbors would complain about that" she laughed taking my glass she went back inside.

"Judy called says she is spending the night with Malcolm?" Kelly smiled. "Since John won't be home till Monday. I have some things you can do around here for me" Kelly smiled. "First I am curious. I want to see" she smiled and motioned for me to strip. I knew if I argued she would tell Judy. So I stripped quickly I stood before my sister in law. Wearing only a pink lace thong. The tannins from a bikini where obvious on my chest. Having returned from vacation only a week ago. Kelly wore a sundress and sat on a stool she spread her legs and lifted her dress to reveal she wore no panties. Her well trimmed red bush glistening she was already excited.

"Show me what Judy brags about" she said.

" I shouldn't not without Judy permission " I told her. She showed me her text messages from Judy. Judy had given her permission to use me however she liked. I knelt and buried my head between my sister in-laws thighs she went wild riding my face. I soon found myself on my back as Kelly rode my face. She came over and over loudly.

"I forgot how much I love oral" Kelly laughed catching her breath.

"John doesn't do that" she told me. With a huge smile. She pulled my thong toward and giggled.

"That's why the tounge is so good" she patted my 4 inch erection.

"Get dressed you have work to do" Kelly told me. I did as she took me upstairs to my nephews room. It was a disaster. It even smelled bad.

"Kelly assures me you deep clean. I want this room perfect" She told me. And left me alone. I set to work stripping the bed, curtains and all dirty clothes. I started the laundry and went to work. As I started got to the closet I discovered several old penthouse magazines. I set them on the bed not sure what Kelly wanted me to do with them. As soon as I did Kelly came to check on me. She picked one up,

"Did you have girlie magazines under your bed at 15? Or from what I hear where they more playgirl?"Kelly teased.

"Moms lingerie catalogs" I responded.

"These are old must be John's" Kelly commented. She then stopped.

"Are you allowed to look at these dirty magazines?" Kelly asked.

"Judy doesn't approve of them" I responded.

"Are you allowed to look at naked woman at all?" Kelly asked.

"No" I responded.

"Bur you saw my pussy earlier" Kelly said. I just looked at the floor.

"What would happen if I told my sister" she asked.

"Any number of punishment" I told her.

"Really? Does she spank you?" She asked.

"Sometimes" I told her.

"When you're done I have another chore for you" Kelly left me. I found Kelly in her room. She spread her legs again on the bed.

"I got so excited thinking about you being spanked" she told me like she needed a reason for me to go down on her again, she saw quieter this time but spuurted all over my face when I surprised her by sticking two fingers in her as I sucked her clit.

"I have never" she was embarrassed looking at my face covered in her juices. Then said "Does Stacy?" She asked. I just nodded. And she smiled. I did a few more chores before Stacy came and picked me up. Kelly wanted to talk but she could tell Stacy was in a hurry. As soon as we where in the car.

"I am leaking" Stacy told me. She put on cruise control and I parted her legs and licked at least her lovers cum that was leaking out. When we got home I did a though job of cleaning her up.

The next morning I was informed I was spending the day at my mother in laws house. As Stacy dropped me off again. Diane had figured out my submissive nature early on.

"Mom, Paul is very skilled at all types of housework. No need to just make him clean the garage" she told me. But that's exactly what Diane had me do. She set me to work. Clean out all her husband's things. Donate, sell, or just throw away. I went to work. And was making lots of progress. I moved an old box out to the driveway. When Diane opened it find my father in-laws old porn stash. Videos and magazines most very tame by today's standards.

"I don't want this " Diane said " well you can have it Paul" she told me.

"Stacy would never allow that" I told her.

"Of course but even man has his stash I guess you call it" she laughed

"No, Stacy would go ballistic" I informed her. Diane stopped me.

"Stacy controls alot of what you do doesn't she?" Diane asked.

"I think you should talk to her about this" I said feeling uncomfortable.

"Paul, I know she has had lovers. But you seem to have worked thru it" Diane said making me sit and talk.

"Tell me, just between us if you like" Diane told me. Holding my hand.

"We have a different type of marriage is all. It makes us both very happy" I told her.

"Are you saying she knows you wear her underwear, I don't mean to embarrass you I just well you bent over" Diane was the one blushing. To make her feel better I explained how Stacy cuckolds me and I serve her. Diane was fascinated and we talked for over an hour.

Then she made a comment

"It's been years since I have had any pleasure that way" she mumbled I don't think she meant to say it out loud.

"Would you like me to help you?" I offered sincerely. I loved this woman. I reached over and kissed her. She didn't pull away.

"I can't I mean, you can't see me naked it's too wierd" she blushed like a schoolgirl. I got up went out to one of the boxes in the garage it had a hand massage thing some one had given her she never opened. I ripped it open and changed the batteries.

"Trust me" I asked I parted her legs and held the muscle massage against her crotch

"Ohhh" she giggled. "Wait she stood and drooped her shorts. She wore cotton granny panties. And already a wet spot appeared I used the massager to tease her. And rather quickly she bit her lio and wimpered as an orgasm hit her. She pulled at my shorts and again saw my pink panties.

"OH I didn't realize, it's not very big is it" she tried to say it gently. I didn't answer. But Diane took the massager and held it against my panties. I came very quickly. Making a mess in my panties.

"I am glad you and Stacy are happy. Even if you are a little girlie boi." Diane told me. I helped her by a vibrator online. Then after we cleaned our selves up. We finished in the garage. Stacy picked me up. Diane showed her the box of old porn from her dad.

"Seems Paul finds everyone's dirty secrets." Stacy laughed.

"Well at least he doesn't need this" Diane flashed me a smile.

"Can't help finding smut where ever you go can you" Stacy laughed at me when we got in the car.

Having neglected our house for two days. I spent the next few days getting it to Stacy's standards.

Stacy continued to expose me to family and friends by loaning me out, or little comments. Soon it seemed everyone knew something if not everything. I spent a day every two weeks at Kelly's house. Cleaning but also making her scream. Diane and I became more like friends. But we discussed everything from sex to recipes over tea. Or as I washed her windows.

Some of our friends disappeared from our life. And some got closer. The couple next door invited Stacy over for an evening she returned in the morning, While I spent the night scrubbing the basement floor.

The more she exposed me the more I was denied any attention from her. If I wasn't man enough to stop her. Then certainly I wasn't man enough for her. She told me. Offering to let me start wearing a dress.

"I am sure there are lots of men that will love fuckingthat ass of yours" Stacy told me.

[hells-plaid-angel]

Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Rabbi Herschel Schacter 

Rabbi Herschel Schacter was a young U.S. Army chaplain who helped traumatized Holocaust survivors rebuild their lives, and later became an influential leader in the Orthodox movement and a strong advocate for Soviet Jewry.

Herschel Schacter was born in Brooklyn in 1917, the son of immigrants from Poland and the youngest of ten siblings. His family was religious, and he was educated at the finest yeshivas before obtaining smicha (rabbinic ordination) in 1941. Rabbi Schacter served as a pulpit rabbi for a year before enlisting in the Army after Pearl Harbor. After attending Army Chaplain school at Harvard, he was sent to Europe with the VIII Corps and fought in the Battle of the Bulge.

Rabbi Schacter was one of the liberators of the Buchenwald concentration camp. He stayed in Germany for two and a half months after the war, tending to the broken spirits of survivors, most of whom had lost their entire families. Many were the only survivor from their entire town; everyone they ever knew had been murdered. A famous photograph shows him leading Shavuot services at Buchenwald (above). This photo occupies an entire wall at Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem.

What Rabbi Schacter saw at Buchenwald was hell on earth. The inmates who were still alive – barely -were emaciated, lying on filthy planks and covered in lice, hollow-eyed ghosts blinking in the sunlight and without the energy to even lift their heads. The stench of rotting flesh and feces was overwhelming. 

Rabbi Schacter noticed Yisrael Meir Lau, 7 years old, hiding behind a pile of corpses. Known as Lulek, the child had lost most of his family and had been on his own since age 5. Rabbi Schacter cared for the boy and helped him immigrate to Israel, where he would one day become Chief Rabbi.

Rabbi Schacter’s son Jacob, a prominent Orthodox rabbi and professor at Yeshiva University, wrote in a piece for Tablet Magazine, “My father spent the rest of his life describing what he saw in Buchenwald and what he did during his 10 weeks there. His work focused on a number of different areas: he tended to the psychological needs of survivors; he worked hard to reunite families; he founded a kibbutz outside Weimar for young survivors preparing to make aliyah [move to Israel]; and he organized a transport of children to Switzerland.”

Another story that illustrates Rabbi Schacter’s massive impact concerns Yoav Kimmelman, a 16 year old from a Hasidic home who lost every single member of his large extended family, around 60 people. The Holocaust destroyed Yoav’s faith and identity as a Jew. According to Rabbi Jacob Schacter, Yoav was “done with God, done with Jewish life, done with Jewish destiny, done with the Jewish people.” Rabbi Herschel Schacter reached out – literally – and singlehandedly brought Yoav back to Jewish life. It happened when Rabbi Schacter was taking 200 child survivors to Switzerland. He wanted young Yoav to go with him, but the boy had no interest in being around fellow Jews and he refused to go. Rabbi Schacter asked him to come to the train station to say goodbye and while there, the rabbi reached down and physically dragged Yoav onto the train. The teen was angry and sullen, but the rabbi convinced him to join a minyan and read Torah in the DP camp. Long story short, Yoav Kimmelman remained religious and at his death, he left 80 descendants, all of them Torah Jews. “That’s all because my father had the guts to pull him onto that train when it left the station,” said Rabbi Jacob Schacter.

Rabbi Herschel Schacter became a prominent leader of Orthodox Judaism in America, helping to rebuild from the ashes and grow the movement. He was elected president of the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations in 1968. Dr. Rafael Medoff, in his book “The Rabbi of Buchenwald,” wrote: “He was the first Orthodox rabbi to reach that level of leadership. Until then others saw Orthodox leaders as fit to be heads of Orthodox groups, but not larger ones. Rabbi Schacter broke that mold. He was sufficiently savvy and sophisticated to represent the entire [Jewish] community, not just the Orthodox minority.”

At the very beginning of the movement to free Soviet Jewry, in 1956, Rabbi Schacter was part of the first rabbinical delegation to visit the USSR since 1917. He then went to Hungary to help Jewish refugees flee during the Hungarian revolution. 

Rabbi Schacter served as a pulpit rabbi in the Bronx for more than 60 years and was known as a brilliant and inspiring orator, beloved by his congregation. He passed away in 2013 at age 95 and was survived by his beloved wife Pnina, two children, four grandchildren, and eight great-grandchildren. Pnina Schacter died in 2018.

For healing the broken spirits of Holocaust survivors and helping them rebuild their lives, and for his devotion to the Jewish people and his decades of leadership, we honor Rabbi Herschel Schacter as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

not a dream

I just heard a song I haven't heard in years and was hit with the strongest flashback/blast from the past I think I've ever had.

It was the summer after I turned 12. I was at a summer camp on an island in Croatia, for the first and last time ever. I knew no one, but I made friends right away.

There was this boy. Yes, there's always a boy. He was the coolest guy I've ever seen. He was also 13, so how cool he could really have been? But to my younger self, he was everything.

I wore a Ramones shirt all the time. He wore a Sex Pistols one. We'd sneak glances at each other. I thought he was so dreamy. I really wanted to see his eyes, but I couldn't because he always had his hair covering them.

There was only one place to hang out during our free time, once camp activities were over. It was an old bar, but during the day, all of us kids gathered there.

They had a jukebox. You could play a song if you put in 5 kunas, and all of the songs were a bit older, but they were so good. So much rock, punk and folk. I've loved the songs choices.

I don't know why, but I've never had the confidence to put a coin in and choose a song myself. I just thought people who did it were the dopest, but I was too shy to do it.

I was sitting at a table with my bunkmates, we were drinking Pipi and Cedevita. Just, really Balkan stuff. We were reading OK! magazine and talking about celebrity gossip.

I think there was a new Avril song that just came out, and we were discussing it.

Then he came in.

In my head, there was always a soundtrack and wind following him. He was the protagonist. Like, he'd open the door to come inside anywhere and there would be wind in his hair and you could hear "Holiday in the Sun" in the background around him.

Anyway, he came in, all mysterious and broody. God, I really wished I could see his eyes.

He walked straight to the jukebox, put a coin in, pressed a song, walked right up to me, said, "This one is for you," and walked out.

I think me and my bunkmates all screamed a little. They were all pushing me and yelling and giggling. I was awestruck.

And then the song played.

"Sweet, sweet little Ramona, with eyes as huge as the church bells.

Sweet, sweet little Ramona, when will I hear the sound of our love bells?"

Maybe I died a little inside. No, I definitely did.

SURE, I never talked to him in person, not even after that, but for that one summer and those two weeks, I felt special. I was special. I was special and he liked me back.

[beybaldes]

a soft place to land

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent x gn!reader

summary: “i’m never more at peace than i am in your arms.”

content warning : me once more deciding Roy’s sister is called Molly

an : technically a part 2 to ‘but never not sweet for the trust funds and punishers’ requested by the ever so lovely @onceuponaoneshotfanfic !! But can be read as a stand-alone fic too

Roy had never been good at emotions, let alone being comforted. He can remember being 8 years old and scraping his knee; he cleaned off the scrape and applied the plaster all by himself. And when Molly noticed the blue plaster covered in spaceships adorned on his knee and offered to kiss it better, like she could remember their mum doing for her before, he gave a very loud ‘no’ and ran right back out into the garden.

He just wasn’t good at it, at accepting the love people tried to offer him. At least, until you had come along.

Roy had been at Chelsea for approximately 5 weeks when he finally had the chance to meet you, his new neighbour, and even back then he’d been his gruff and gloomy self.

Roy had been at Chelsea for approximately 7 weeks when you showed up on his doorstep with a case of his favourite beer in hand and a bag full of takeout after barely having spoken more then two words to him.

“Regardless of if you’ve read the article or not, I’m coming in and we’re talking about it.” His face twisted in confusion, to which you pulled out a rolled up magazine from under you arm, the title reading in big, black font ‘Roy Kent; legend in the making and in the bedroom.’

“Some people will do anything for their five minutes of fame.” You’d scoffed, waiting for Roy to hand you two plates so that you could serve up the takeaway you’d brought over. “I hope you know this says nothing about you and everything about the shithead who sold out on you.”

Roy was silent the whole time, only grunting a response when it actually occurred to you to ask him if he even liked Chinese food; which, of course he did. You had to practically guide him to his couch and force him to eat, let alone talk to you about it.

“How are you feeling, Roy-o?” At some point, though Roy couldn’t remember when, you’d finished your meal and saddled up next to him, your knees pressed against his thigh as you sat facing him. “I mean, at best the whole of England knows you’re an absolute sex god. But i can imagine it’s not nice being on the front page of a magazine for gossip, or being sold out by whoever you were seeing.”

You finally elicited a response from Roy when you moved your hand to the back of his neck, settling your fingers in his hair which had him crashing back to reality and jumping away from you. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Um, comforting you? What the fuck does it look like you prick?”

And just like that, you’d worked your way into his heart and he knew he was never going to get you back out of it.

Despite that being years and years ago, Roy had only just reached a point where he would seek you out for comfort when he needed it. More then a decade on, he still had girls left, right, and centre fucking him, stealing from him and then selling the story of it to the press. And he still had you, waiting with open arms and a listening ear to make it all go away.

Like tonight, he was once again laying between your legs, his head against your chest and your fingers combing through his hair. This time though, there was no one night stand selling his sex stories or stealing his Rolex, he simply just wanted to be with you, in your arms.

“I’m never more at peace then I am in your arms.” He whispered. The confession was out of left field for Roy; he didn’t do soft. Well, you knew that wasn’t entirely true, he was always soft with you, even if it had taken you years to show him that was okay and convince him he didn’t have to wait for you to hug him first. But saying it instead of showing it? This was an entirely different realm of braveness for Roy. “I know I’m not the best at, talking, I guess, but you make life easier. Would stay here forever if I could.”

Tears threatened to cloud your vision and it felt like your throat was closing up. It was unbelievable, to see Roy become the person he had, from way back when he’d just arrived to Chelsea to now, at Richmond as a coach. It almost felt like you had an entirely different person before you. But you didn’t. His hair still felt the same when you ran your fingers through it, he still had the same deep and gruff voice and he still threw his head back with laughter and a wide smile every-time you watched stepbrothers. Roy was still the Roy he always had been, but now he was better at showing people that version of himself.

“Will do all that I can to keep you here forever, Roy-o.” You tilted his head back, keeping your hands cupping each side of his face as you leant forward, pressing a slow and soft kiss to his lips. They were slightly chapped and the scruff of his beard tickled your skin, and the hand that moved to cup the back of your head and keep you kissing him rid of the ounce of worry you had that you’d read too much into things. “I love you, Roy. I have for a long time.”

There was a long moment of silence between the two of you, but it didn’t worry you in the slightest. Whether or not Roy was able to say it, you knew that he loved you. The blush that coated his cheeks told you enough if his actions and words across the years hadn’t.

“Aw you’re blushing, you must love me.”

“Fuck off.” Roy turned his attention back to the tv, not containing the smile that pulled at his lips at the thought alone - you loved him. He intertwined his fingers with yours, pulling your hand to cup his face again and pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “I love you too.”

[bargainoriley]

Here’s something I’ve been translating on and off for the past week or so! I was looking at old German youth magazines in order to find interesting articles about classic rock bands (specifically Pink Floyd) and came across this in the 01/1978 issue of BRAVO magazine (One of the most famous teen/young adult magazines in Germany that’s been there since 1958 and is still going strong today!) A lot of youth magazines back in the day had articles and posters about rock bands because, well, that’s the people who were celebrities at that time! This page includes both short descriptions of the band members and a short history of the band up until that point when the issue came out! Enjoy ;)

Here’s the original picture

And here is the translation! (Italized text are context comments added by me to add to the understanding of this text!)

Warning: Some of the information here is obviously incorrect!

Pink Floyd: Their profiles

Nick Mason:

Born on the 27th of January 1945 in London, plays drums, has black hair, brown eyes, is 1,72 m tall (for non metric peeps it’s approximately 5 foot 8), is married to Lindy, has two daughters, owns a vineyard and collects old cars (old timers in German means old/vintage cars)

Rick Wright:

Born on the 28th of July 1945 in London, plays the organ/keyboard, piano, cello, and Moog-synthesizer; has blonde hair, blue eyes, is 1, 74 m tall (approximately 5 foot 9), is married to Juliette, has a son named Jamie, and a daughter named Gaia, loves football (or soccer for American peeps)

Roger Waters:

Born on the 6th of September 1944 in Great Bookham near Cambridge, plays bass, Moog-synthesizer, and sings as well; has blonde hair, grey eyes, is 1,83 m tall (approximately 6 feet), is married to Caroline, and has a 15 month old son named Harry.

David Gilmour:

Born on the 6th of March 1946 in Cambridge, plays lead guitar and sings; has brown hair, blue eyes, is 1,78 m tall (approximately 5 foot 10), is married to Ginger, and has a 2 year old daughter named Alice.

The diary/summary of their career; All their albums

1965

The three architecture students Roger Waters, Rick Wright, and Nick Mason meet and get to know each other, establishing the band Sigma 6.

1966

February: Sigma 6 gets their first fee for a performance in the London Marquee Club and mostly cover popular rock and blues songs. During this time they meet art student Syd Barrett. He writes songs and joins the band as a guitarist and singer. Under his influence Sigma 6 evolve into their own music style: The group does electronic experiments and uses spotlights, reversal film, and recorded footage as part of their stage shows. Thus psychedelic music is born. Syd Barrett is as well (psychedelic), who now comes up with new names for the band almost every month — they call themselves “T-Set,“ “Abdabs” — and in this group a girl sings as well from time to time: Juliette Gale. She later marries keyboardist Rick Wright.

June: The group could pay for a band bus for approximately 200 Mark (the German currency at the time of this article), but decide to separate for the time instead. No one is interested in performing, since the boys want to enjoy the semester holidays as well as after them improve and work harder on their studies; music is fun but a real job is more important. Syd Barrett then has a new idea for a band name: The Pink Floyd Sound. He comes up with his idea through combining the names of two American blues singers: Pink Anderson and Floyd Council. The owner of an artist agency, Peter Jenner, sees a performance from The Pink Floyd Sound in the Marquee, and then from there on decides to manage the band, not knowing the band wanted to break up.

July: Peter Jenner gets the band gigs, and thus Pink Floyd stays together.

October: Pink Floyd are now the stars of the London Underground. They perform in the Roundhouse to 2000 fans, with even Paul McCartney being there to see them.

December: On the 23rd of December the UFO club opens, with Pink Floyd performing there daily henceforth.

1967

January: The English music magazine “Melody Maker” write an article about Pink Floyd, which makes record companies curious about the band. The band accepts the best offer, and as they sign the record label contract, they cash in an advance payment of 40 000 Mark.

February: The first single “Arnold Layne” gets recorded.

March: Arnold Layne goes to the English hit charts.

April: The single is on number 20 in the charts and then falls off. But this beginning success gives them the push they needed to record their first album “The Pipers at the Gates of Dawn.“ Norman “Hurricane” Smith serves as producer for this album, and began his career as a recording engineer for the Beatles. While Pink Floyd work on their album in studio 3 of Abbey Road studios, the Beatles work on their album “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” at the same time in studio 2; two decade defining groups working next door.

June: Pink Floyd join as a supporting act along with Jimi Hendrix and the Move (runner up band to Electric Light Orchestra) for an England tour, but only get to play 17 minutes.

July: The second single “See Emily Play,“ becomes part of the English hit charts, coming in at number 6, and the first album “The Pipers at the Gates of Dawn” releases.

September: See Emily Play also goes into the German hit charts and reaches number 28. Syd Barrett at this time also creates a speaker system which is still useful today, where the speaker boxes are placed all around the room.

1968

At this time, it is practically impossible for Pink Floyd to continue performing with Syd Barrett. He is more and more off in his own world and mind, often not knowing where he is. Out of necessity, the band thus searches for a second guitarist who could join the band.

February: David Gilmour joins Pink Floyd. Syd is still part of the band, but during concerts his amps are often not even turned on, so that the audience doesn’t know any better about his mistakes.

April: On the 6th of April Syd definitively leaves the band, with manager Peter Jenner going with him. Pink Floyd begin working on their second album “A Saucerful of Secrets.“

June: At a free open air concert on the 29th in the London Hyde Park the band officially announces and debuts David Gilmour as their new lead (and only) guitarist. On the same day the new album releases as well.

1969

July: The soundtrack album Pink Floyd worked on for the film “More,” releases.

October: Pink Floyd have their first concert in Germany on the 11th of October at the Pop and Blues Festival in the Essen Grugahalle venue. On this day, Deep Purple celebrate their first concert in Germany as well.

November: The double album “Ummagumma” releases and makes the group successful worldwide for the first time.

1970

March: The soundtrack album Pink Floyd worked on for the film “Zabriskie Point” releases.

June: Pink Floyd perform the title track of their upcoming new album “Atom Heart Mother” worldwide at open air festivals with recorded footage, dry ice fog, and light bombs as part of their special effects on stage.

October: The album “Atom Heart Mother” releases and leads the album charts in England and America.

1971

The album “Meddle” comes out. This year Pink Floyd is particularly busy; they go from one concert to the next and have multiple tours worldwide.

1972

The soundtrack album Pink Floyd worked on for the film “La Vallée” releases under the title “Obscured by Clouds” as their new album. The rest of the year the band spends inside the studio.

1973

March: The album “Dark Side of the Moon” releases and is on the English and American album charts for over two years, and also goes gold in Germany. It is to this day the band’s most sold album.

October: Pink Floyd perform their last German concert for a long time on the 12th of October at the Olympiahalle in Munich, and it becomes the sensation of the year. Pink Floyd also make their way into the English and German single charts again with the single “Money.”

1974

Pink Floyd are tired of success and go back to their private family lives, with rumors appearing that the group will break up. In autumn, the double album “A nice pair” comes out, which is a rerelease of their first two albums.

1975

September: The album “Wish You Were Here” releases.

1976

This year, Pink Floyd doesn’t appear publicly that much as well, except for some performances at festivals.

1977

January: In Dortmund Pink Floyd start their first German tour since 3 years ago on the 23rd. They have 2 concerts each for Dortmund, Frankfurt, and Berlin, with Munich having 3. All concerts were sold out 2 months before the tour started. Simultaneously the 11th album of the band, “Animals” releases. Even before the album released, “Animals” goes gold, with 250 000 records being preordered. This German tour is also the starting point of a months long worldwide tour — the most comprehensive one that Pink Floyd have undertaken yet.

Written originally by: K. E. Siegfried

Translated from German to English by: me! (Vik)

(Btw my source to where I found this is the Internet archive, love that place!)

also here are some pictures that were included in the magazine of the band!

[detroitpedxing]

(Archived News, Sept. 17. 2024) Second Apparent Assassination Attempt on Trump Prompts Alarm Abroad

There is widespread concern that the November election will not end well and that American democracy has frayed to the breaking point.

In the nine years since Donald J. Trump entered American politics, the global perception of the United States has been shaken by the image of a fractured, unpredictable nation. First one, then a second apparent attempt on the former president’s life have accentuated international concerns, raising fears of violent turmoil spiraling toward civil war.

Keir Starmer, the British prime minister, has said he is “very worried” and “deeply troubled” by what the F.B.I. said was an attempt to kill Mr. Trump at his Florida golf course, fewer than 50 days before the presidential election and two months after a bullet bloodied the ear of Mr. Trump during a campaign rally in Pennsylvania.

“Violence has no part to play at all in any political process,” Mr. Starmer said.

Yet, violence has played a core part in this stormy, lurching American political campaign, and not only in the two apparent assassination attempts. There is now widespread concern across the globe that the November election will not end well and that American democracy, once a beacon to the world, has frayed to the breaking point.

In Mexico, where elections this year were the most violent in the country’s recent history, with 41 candidates and aspirants for public office assassinated, President Andrés Manuel López Obrador said in a post on X, formerly Twitter: “Even though what happened is still unclear, we regret the violence against former President Donald Trump. The path is democracy and peace.”

At a time of wars in Europe and the Middle East and widespread global insecurity as China and Russia assert the superiority of their autocratic models, American precariousness weighs heavily.

Corentin Sellin, a French history professor, said the “brutalization of American politics” had left France “wondering whether the presidential campaign will finish peacefully.”

France was stunned, he said, by the Jan. 6, 2021, storming of the U.S. Capitol by Trump supporters, and “there is this notion that the story that started with that insurrection has not yet ended,” and that the Nov. 5 election will determine how it does.

The threat of violence — at times, even the need for it — has been a core part of Mr. Trump’s message.

He has already cast doubt on the credibility of the coming November election results. He has persistently laced his language with calls to “fight” and used incendiary terms to insult immigrants. Just before the Jan. 6 assault on the Capitol, he urged followers to “fight like hell” or they would not “have a country any more.” In general, he has shown an ironclad incapacity to accept many truths, including the result of the 2020 election.

Democrats have responded by depicting Mr. Trump as a direct menace to American democracy, a “weird” would-be autocrat of fascist tendencies and a “threat to our freedoms,” in the words of Vice President Kamala Harris, the Democratic presidential nominee. The left-leaning New Republic magazine portrayed Mr. Trump as Hitler on a recent cover, expressing the view that a second Trump term is likely to lead to some form of American tyranny.

Some Europeans see things in a very different light.

“They tried to do everything,” said Andrea Di Giuseppe, a lawmaker with Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni’s right-wing Brothers of Italy party. “They tried to bring Trump down with trials, they tried to bring him down with insinuations, they tried to bring him down by scaring people that ‘if Trump arrives democracy ends.’ Then, since all these attempts did not work, they tried to kill him.”

The authorities have identified a suspect in the Florida episode, Ryan W. Routh, a 58-year-old building contractor with a criminal history and a passionate embrace of the Ukrainian cause. He was charged in federal court with two firearms counts. More charges may follow.

Responding to the apparent assassination attempt, Carsten Luther, an online editor for international affairs, gave voice to deep concerns about the survival of American democracy in the respected German weekly Die Zeit. “The warnings of a civil war can be heard and no longer sound completely unrealistic,” he wrote. “It seems almost banal, as if it was bound to happen at some point.”

Of course, other Western societies, including France and Germany, are also viscerally divided and have seen the rise of xenophobic, far-right parties with many of the same messages as Mr. Trump. In May, an assassination attempt on Prime Minister Robert Fico of Slovakia left him critically injured.

But a far more restrictive European gun culture has curbed the extent of political violence while leaving Europeans alarmed and incredulous at the ease with which Americans are able to obtain weapons.

Félix Maradiaga, a former Nicaraguan presidential candidate and political prisoner who is now a fellow at the University of Virginia, said that polarization, intolerance and the widespread availability of high-caliber weapons in the United States had led to a “perfect storm.”

“The world is watching, and the stakes could not be higher,” he added. “Russia and China are undoubtedly taking satisfaction in this deterioration of democracy.”

Lebohang Pheko, a senior research fellow at South Africa’s Trade Collective, an economics research institute, said that she perceived “a militarization of everyday life in the United States, and this essentially seems to be spilling into these elections.”

Mr. Trump has often appeared to seek this very militarization of which he has narrowly escaped being a victim. The multimillionaire son of a real-estate developer from Queens, he has positioned himself as the defender of the gun-toting, God-fearing American frontier against what he portrays as the Democrats’ politically correct socialist takeover.

Alluding to his Democratic opponents, he has blamed “the things that they say about me” for the first assassination attempt and the second episode, not the easy access to guns that he defends.

The question now is how violent will this political confrontation in America prove. For many around the world, it seems to contain the seeds of rampant conflict.

“There is a sort of reciprocal delegitimization, where the political opponent is no longer a normal political competitor, but also an existential enemy,” said Mario Del Pero, a professor of United States and International History at Sciences Po University in Paris. He called this process “a degradation of political and public discourse.”

In the United States, this has been a degradation compounded by guns, as much of the world sees it.

“Style over substance. Image over issues. Lies over facts. Distractions over policy. Repeated violence,” said Tomasz Płudowski, the deputy dean of the School of Social Science, AEH, in Warsaw. “That seems to be the contemporary American reality.”

The core confrontation in Western societies is no longer over internal issues. It is global vs. national, the connected living in the “somewhere” of the knowledge economy vs. the forgotten living “nowhere” in industrial wastelands and rural areas.

There lies the frustration, even fury, on which a Trump or a Marine Le Pen, leader of the far-right French National Rally, or Ms. Meloni in Italy have been able to build.

The perceived vulnerability of American democracy has already provoked many reactions around the world, from Russian gloating and interference to European anxiety about its security. Few countries in the developing world want American lessons in how to run their societies these days.

Yet, a fascination with the United States endures, and the checks and balances of its institutions have proved resilient, including through the first Trump term.

Mr. Trump often cites the template of Prime Minister Viktor Orban of Hungary: neutralizing an independent judiciary, subjugating much of the media, demonizing migrants and creating loyal new elites through crony capitalism. But it would not be easy to impose in America.

Still, the world is anxious. The 48 days to the election feel like a long time.

“In the end, the only real final word is for the American people,” said Mr. Di Giuseppe, the Italian lawmaker. “And if you want to defeat a person whom you think is not fit to govern the United States of America, you have to defeat him in a democratic system with elections, not with justice or Kalashnikovs.”

[hooked-on-elvis]

[FAN STORY] "Those five or six minutes that will stay in my heart forever" — Excerpt: "ELVIS: Live at the International" by Kieran Davis (2011)

February 18, 1970: Elvis backstage with fan, Judy Cherry. Judy is an England "super fan" of Elvis, who met him in 1970, at the International Hotel in Las Vegas, NV.

Here's Judy's recollections of that moment:

"... The first thing I said when he came out was just a whispered 'Elvis!' He put his arms around me and gave me a nice warm hug. I told him I had waited fourteen years for this and he said 'Have you? That's a long time to wait, isn't it honey?' Then gave Jamie (the girl with me) a nice hug and said, 'Did you come all the way from England?' She said, 'Yes' He said, 'Thank you, hon.'

I said, 'Elvis, do you have time for a couple of pictures?' His answer was a warm, 'Sure.' So while Jamie was getting my camera out, I showed him a copy of the Elvis Presley story, that I had brought with me, and told him I had had it since 1957. He seemed genuinely amazed. He came across this one real old picture and said, 'This really is old, man. I was 21 years old here!'

Note: Possibly, Judy is refereeing to a magazine called "ELVIS PRESLEY: THE INTIMATE STORY MAGAZINE" (Published in 1957)

IMPORTANT UPDATE -- March 2024: I won't erase what I published orignally because there are friends who reblogged it already and I feel this can look confusing, but one minor correction is needed. This magazine above is definitely NOT the one Judy Cherry was holding for Elvis to sign. @whositmcwhatsit posted the actual book on her blog which is "The Elvis Presley Story edited by James Gregory, introduction by Dick Clark". I apologize for the wrong assumption I made, friends. I had never saw the actual book cover (until now), thus when researching the name "the Elvis Presley story", as Judy mentioned in her recollection, it only got me to think the magazine I shared on my original post [the one above] could be a the one she was referring to. My bad. Well, it's corrected thanks to our wonderful Jade. ♥ I hope you don't mind, dear, if I use the picture of your copy to illustrate this post.

Photo by the copy our friend Jade [@whositmcwhatsit] bought. Lucky girl! Precious!🥹🩷

[Continuing the story...]

"In between these dribbles of conversation we had taken one picture (shown at the beginning of this post), had some trouble with the flashcube and now we're taking another picture... then he turned to Jamie and said, 'Now we are gonna get one with you, aren't we honey?' I got the picture, he said goodbye to Jamie and came over and gave me a hug. I said, 'Goodbye, Elvis, I'll see you tomorrow night... whether you see me or not: cause I'll be going to the show every night for the rest of the time.' He seemed really surprised at this and said 'Eleven times! Thank you so much, sweetheart. I just wish I could meet everyone of you!'

"He kissed me goodbye and he was gone but the 5 or 6 minutes will stay in my heart forever."

♥

One of the things I love the most about EP (and what turned me into a passionate fan of his) is how loving he was with his fans, he really listened to them. He treated them like people, not numbers or simply "admirers". He cared about giving them the time of their lives once they were there to watch him performing or even if they were just around to ask for his autograph or pictures. Elvis was truly genuine when interacting with them — actually this word "genuine" is used by many of the fortunate fans who got to meet and talk to him, to describe EP's interactions with them.

He cared so much about his fans that it's said he could remember the frequent ones by their names, all of them, the die hard fans, and even asked about some of them to his other fans whenever they were uncommonly not around for a few days (specifically talking about the fans that hanged around at his homes gates now).

EP was a great guy. He deserved all the success he conquered. The best performer ever! It's always said the good ones are always taken from us too soon. Well, that seems to be the truth, tragically. How we wish we could see and talk to him today, having such great memories like Judy's, while EP would be at his 88 year-young of a well-lived life. Imagine the conversations with this guy! The stories he could share with us. Anyway, we'll forever cherish you, EP.⚡♥

[reigningqueenofwords]

The Call

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 2,190 Warnings: Character death

Read on AO3

Humming to yourself, you kicked your feet up on the arm of the couch and looked through the pages of an old copy of Rolling Stone. “Hey, sweetheart.” Dean smiled, walking into the living room. You’d bought the house together right after the birth of your oldest son, DJ, and had been living there for nearly 5 years. It had seen your marriage to Dean in the backyard, and then the birth of your twins- a boy, Levi, and a girl, Nicolette, who were three.

“Hey, handsome.” You looked over at him. Seeing the state of him, you groaned and got up, tossing your magazine on the coffee table. Dean still hunted on occasion, much to your dismay, but you gave up fighting that battle years ago. “You’re so lucky the kids aren’t home!” You hissed at him, earning a sheepish look.

“Well, I know DJ’s at school, where are the twins?” He asked, pulling off his jacket.

“Daycare.” You reminded him. “Remember, I signed them up for part time to get used to playing with kids other than each other? They go three days a week. Today is their first day.”

He thought for a moment and nodded. “Shit, that’s right.” He chuckled. “I’ll go get cleaned up before they’re home.” He told you, leaning over and kissing your cheek. “You know you love me. Covered in blood and all.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah. I married you, didn’t I?” You teased. “I go pick them up in about an hour, by the way. If you want to go.”

“Of course I want to go!” He told you excitedly. “I’ve been away from home for three days, and I miss my kids.” Dean was an excellent father, and very hands on. “Oh, Sam says hi, by the way.” He told you.

“I’ll text him later.�� You told him. “Now, go shower before I drag you outback and hose you down!” You half threatened.

At dinner that night, you raised an eyebrow at your husband. “If you shove any more of that in your mouth, I’m pretty sure you’ll choke.” You teased him, with a chuckle.

“Daddyyyyy.” Nicholette giggled at her father’s face. You’d made home made mashed potatoes, baked chicken, and green beans. He had shoved some chicken and potatoes in his mouth and currently reminded you of a chipmunk. “You so silly!” She grinned.

He slowed his chewing, blushing slightly. Licking his lips, he swallowed before sipping his beer. “Sorry.” He gave you a bashful smile. “This is just so much better than eating on the road.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I take it as a compliment, but remember, we have three small Winchesters who look up to their Daddy…” You motioned to the three kids who were a bit messy.

“Good point.” He motioned at you with a fork. Hearing his hunting phone ring, you both furrowed your brows. “What the he– heck?” Dean corrected himself when you shot him a look. “Let me go get that.”

It worried you, as he never got called in that close together. Most of the time, it was weeks, or months, between hunts. Never, ever this soon! “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You told the three kids who looked at you with curious green eyes. They had very little knowledge of hunting, and you wanted to keep it that way as long as you could.

“I gotta go, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He rushed in, a panicked look on his face as he kissed your cheek. You looked at him, scared. “I know, I know. I never take hunts this soon after I get home.” Dean sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll call you tonight and fill you in. I promise.”

You nodded, knowing that was his way of saying he didn’t want to say anything in front of the kids. “Alright. Kids, say bye to daddy.” You gave them a small smile.

“Bye, Daddy!” They yelled in unison, tugging at his heartstrings. “Love you!”

Moving to them, one by one, he kissed the top of their head. “Be good for mommy, guys.” He told them firmly. “Or I’m not gonna be happy when I get home.”

They looked at each other, wide eyed. “Uh oh.” Levi breathed. “We be good, Daddy!” He looked over at Dean, who was trying so hard not to laugh at their expressions.

After dinner, you’d cleaned the kitchen up, bathed them, given them a bedtime snack, and managed to get them all into bed. By the time you sat down from housework, it was nearly 9. You had a glass of wine, and had the Food Network on a very low volume. You’d changed into a pair of Dean’s sweats, and a t-shirt, your socked feet up on your coffee table, and your cellphone on the cushion next to your leg. Once you spoke to Dean, you’d likely crawl into bed, wanting to recharge for another day of parenting three small children alone.

It was mid Master Chef rerun when your phone vibrated, lighting up with your husband’s smiling face. Sipping your wine, you smiled softly as you picked up your phone. The bottom of your glass clicked gently on the side table when you set it down, putting the phone to your ear. “Hey, handsome.” You greeted him.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You could hear the grin in his voice. “Sammy says hi.” He chuckled.

“Tell him I’m mad at him!” You joked, tucking your feet up to the side. “But, I still say hi back.”

He relayed the information to his brother as they drove down the highway. “So, I’ll spare you the gory details for now. I know you aren’t a huge fan anymore.” He teased you lightly, remembering how the month after you’d had DJ you’d thrown up hearing the details. You just couldn’t stomach them much anymore. “We’re thinking ghouls.” He sighed, and you made a face. “I know you’re scrunching your nose, so…yeah. Exactly.”

You chuckled. “You know me too well.” You pointed out.

“That I do, Mrs. Winchester.” He replied, chuckling. “How was bedtime with the kids?” He asked, wanting to talk about something on a lighter note for the remainder of the call. He’d be wanting to get home more than usual, as this was sooner than he would have wanted to be gone.

Sam sat back in his chair with a groan. The sleeves to his button up shirt were rolled up to right under his elbows, the top button undone, and the tie loosened. Over the back of his chair hung his suit coat as his laptop was open in front of him. “I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this isn’t out type of case?” He looked over to where Dean sat on the bed closest to him. “We’ve been here two days, and we’re still at square one.” Sam pointed out, sighing.

Sipping his beer, Dean licked his lips. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t tell me I’m missing time with my kids for nothing.” He shot his brother a look. “You called me saying there was a case, and that you needed me. Don’t make me call my wife and tell her that I’m missing time with my family for nothing.”

“I’m sorry, man.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll go grab some take out and see if I hear anything.” He got up, rolling his shoulders. “There’s a place down the street, Chinese. What do you want?”

Holding his gun aimed, Dean moved through the large house, his heart beating his in chest. Sam went another way, trying to cover more ground. Feeling his phone vibrate, he licked his lips and pulled out his phone. “What?” He hissed.

Sam was quiet on the other end of the line. “Dean, it’s not fucking ghouls!” He snapped, making Dean pause. “It’s not ghouls.” He repeated.

“Then what the fuck is it?” He ground out.

There was a moment of silence before Sam spoke. “This isn’t our type of case, man.”

Dean’s face paled, knowing that humans could be so much worse than monsters. “Are we dealing with fucking Hannibal or somethin’?” What the else could it be? They were finding people with parts missing. Sometimes whole parts, sometimes just pieces. “If that’s the case, then I–”

Sam furrowed his brows when Dean’s voice cut off. “Dean?!” He panicked. “Dean??” Hearing the phone drop to the floor, his stomach sank when he knew it had been stomped on. There was no other explanation. “Shit.” He knew he couldn’t do this alone, but his hunter friends were beyond limited. Many were dead for all he knew.

You were giving the kids a bath when your phone rang. Seeing Sam’s number, you felt like you’d be sick. You picked up quickly, your eyes on the kids. “Hello?” You answered, terrified that you’d be told Dean wouldn’t be coming home this time. It was the same fear you’d had for years.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t sure who else to call.” He replied quickly. “I need you to come out and help.”

“I have three kids, Sam! What the he–heck am I supposed to do with them?” You asked, shielding yourself from some bath water.

He sighed. “Do you have a friend that can watch them? Just tell them that it’s a family emergency.”

You ran your hand through your hair. “It’s just a ghoul, Sam, what happened?” How could the two of them not handle that?

“It’s not a ghoul. It’s human, and they have Dean.” He told you seriously.

“I’ll call my best friend.” You snapped. “Text me where to meet you, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You had a harsh look on your face.

It felt like an eternity had passed from when Sam called you, until when you met him at the start of the dirt road. The house that Dean was being held in was fairly large, and the only one for two miles (at least) in every direction. You wore jeans, a t-shirt, boots, and a jacket. Your old hunting gear. “Sam.” You greeted him with a curt nod.

“You know I hated having to call you.” He gave you those puppy dog eyes.

Your eyes were full of fear as they met his hazel ones. “Let’s just get my husband back.” You weren’t angry with Sam, per say, but you had to keep yourself in check.

Running his hand through his hair, he nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.” He motioned towards the house before the pair of you started moving quietly through the trees on the property.

Dean grunted against his restraints, his eyes covered with a dark blindfold. He’d heard his captor speak, and he knew the voice, but the name just wasn’t coming to him. It was so familiar, yet sounded like a stranger. It was pissing him off, and he wanted this to all be over. As much as he kept telling himself he was done hunting, he knew it was a bluff. He’d never send Sammy away.

“Dean!” Hearing your voice, he froze. “Oh, God.” You slid to your knees near him, pulling the blindfold off. As you worked on his bindings, your heart raced. “We’re getting you the hell out of here.” You told him. He worked on the rope around his ankles, panicked.

“Oh, look, you brought guests. Pretty little thing, too.” Came a man’s deep voice.

Dean snarled. “Show yourself, Hannibal, you sick son of a bitch.” He spat, putting himself in front of you slightly.

When the bald man stepped out, you saw Dean falter. “Is that anyway to talk to your Grandfather, Dean?” He smirked.

His jaw was tight as he spoke. “Samuel.” He glared.

“Dean?” You glanced at him for a split second, gripping the back of his shirt.

“How do you know my grandson?” Samuel asked, slowly moving closer.

You swallowed, watching his every movement. “Why should I tell you?” You countered, holding your head high. Being bullied by him wasn’t something you intended to do.

“Because I’m the one who holds both your lives in my hands.” He pointed out, pulling out a gun. “Now, normally I prefer other means, but you’re leaving me no choice.” Samuel sighed, aiming at Dean.

Without a second thought, you moved in front of Dean, the searing pain happening in an instant. Your hand went to gushing wound. “Fuck.” You breathed.

Sam stumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open, and leaned on the doorway. “You calculated wrong.” He ground out, making Samuel turn to look at him. To the best of Sam’s ability, he lifted his own gun and fired as he slid to the ground, groaning. His eyes were heavy with what Samuel had dosed him with, and they moved to where Dean was cradling you.

“Come on, baby.” Dean sobbed, putting his hand over yours, feeling your blood seep between his fingers. “Don’t you dare die on me. We got three kids that need you. I need you.” He breathed, feeling a pain that ate at his soul. “Please, baby…”

[multifan2022]

Golden Lies

Heres another new one that has been in my wips for who knows how long.. Let me know!!

“I volunteer!” 

The first thought through your head after hearing that is ‘who said that?’ Who would volunteer for the 69th Hunger Games.. Well the games at all, but why now? 

It isn't until people start turning around and looking at you, the 17 year old who almost escaped being reaped, that you realize whose voice you heard. You heard your own, because as soon as you saw little Cissa being pulled onto stage your heart broke. 

Cissa was your neighbor, she had just turned 12 the day before the reaping. You would be turning 18 in a week and a half. The poor girl cried for twenty minutes when she got a papercut opening seeds, she wouldn't last in the games. 

Not that you had a much better chance when it came down to it. The biggest difference was the only family you had was two grandparents, both very old and one sick. Cissa was the middle child of 5, her older twin brothers and her younger twin sisters. It would devastate them all if something happened to her, your grandparents wouldn't live long to mourn you. 

The peacekeepers hands on you barely caught your attention as they forced you to switch places. The only good part you could see out of this, was that Cissa wouldn't be rereaped. You had saved at least one of their kids, a small payment for all the times they watched your grandparents during the harvest for the last 8 years. 

Cress Amberpath, the light pink skinned Escort of your district, is practically vibrating with happiness when you reach the stage. There had never been a volunteer from your district while he worked here. He pulled you into a weird hug congratulating you before pulling you towards the mic. “Is there anything you would like to say to little Cissa, Dearie?” 

You nodded, pulled yourself together and looked at her family. Her mother was already in tears, you being like a niece to her, while she clung to her daughter. The older twin boys who were your age nodded, letting you know they would take care of her. While their father nodded, letting you know he would take care of your grandparents. It all happened within seconds, and suddenly you were ok. 

Everything was going to be ok. So you laughed and nodded again “Hey Cissy, take care of Finnick for me ya?” Cissa turned back to you, tears streaming down her face as she nodded and cracked a smile at the inside joke. When her family started laughing along with you, Cress spoke again “Whos Finnick my dear! Do you have a beau we should all know about!” 

You knew this next part would maybe piss some people off, but you were off to die so who cares. You shook your head “It's my dog.. Because there was a magazine we found the same day I found this puppy, and on the cover it said ‘Is golden boy Finnick Odair, a dog?’ Cissy thought it was a sign that we should name him Finnick.” 

To your utter surprise, Cress laughed.. Hard, like bent over laughing a genuine laugh before speaking “I wish we could see that man's face when he hears this, it would be priceless! But onto the boys!” When he left you in your spot and walked towards the other bowl, you scanned the crowd for the one friend you had. 

Hardin Bellbrand. 

A boy you went to school with, who worked the same field as you. He was your only confidant, the only person you trusted fully in this world. He was there when your parents died, you were there when he was diagnosed with an untold disease a few years ago. Hardin had been pulled from the fields, and was treated. Perk of being the Mayor's son, you guess. Now he could be out and about as long as he took his pill everyday. 

If he missed his pills within a few days he would start to have severe pain. Next would come the sweats and puking alongside hallucinations. He wasn't fit to be in the games ethier, and thankfully he is a year older than you so this is his last year. 

You finally made eye contact with him, and could see the heartbreak and sadness in them. Your ears start to buzz when he nods and looks away. You're frantically shaking your head as you hear Cress call some name you don't know. Your feet are moving before you realize it, mouth open screaming “NO” as you realize what Hardin is thinking. 

 Over your painfully screams to your sick friend, his voice rings clear “I volunteer as tribute!” The Mayor and his wife start screaming now as well, neither wanting to lose their only child. Both knowing even if he was fit and healthy, he's not a killer. While they are getting drug off stage by peacekeepers, Hardin is making his way to the stage. 

He completely bypasses Cress who is practically dying in excitement and walks straight to you. While you're shaking your head, he smiles sadly and wraps you in a hug whispering over and over that it's ok. Even though it's anything but. Cress pulls him off you and towards the microphone. “Well!! What a turn of events!! Not ONE but TWO volunteers!! Why did you volunteer young man??” 

Hardin turns his head and looks at you, that same sad smile present. “Couldn't let my best friend go off to fight without me.. She was gonna leave me in the fields to do all her work, can you believe that Cress?” He jokes and you know that he's going to make it through the process just fine. The struggle will be when the two of you are trying to survive in the arena. 

But you're dedicated to keeping him alive.. Even if it means killing yourself in the end. 

Hardin Bellbrand will be coming home. 

~~~~~~~

The train ride was excruciating, listening to Cress gush about how your ratings were already up due to there being volunteers in an outlying district. But since there were two of you, and you were best friends, he swore that it would be an easy win. There hadn't been a victor from District 9 in 25 years and he was dead. 

You and Hardin would be alone going into training, Cress would be your only guide during the next few weeks. You're both thankful for the fact the train rolls at 250 miles an hour, making your trip only a handful of hours. But your head was still pounding when you arrived. 

Cameras flashed and people screamed questions at you both as you were practically shoved from the train and into a car. Just to have it all happen again between the car and the tribute center. The only difference was this time you saw people holding out flowers. Cress stopped and gasped, turning back to you both, “We have never had gifts given to us before the games! This is such an honor, graciously accept them and show your love for the capitol!” 

You turned and nudge your head to one side, Hardin nodded and without speaking each of you took a side of the walkway. Men, women and children all screaming your name and touching your face or hair. Some had flowers that you would take and offer a smile and kind words back. You shake every hand you can reach, and even stop taking a few pictures. 

Somehow you even look happy, excited even to be here, which only drives the crowd crazier. When you and Hardin meet back up by the doors, you each have a handful of flowers and messy hair. Your hands find each other, fingers intertwining as you bow and smile to the crowd who just screams louder. 

Another car pulls up so the peacekeepers finish escorting you inside the huge building. Hardin looks around in amazement at the architecture and the size but all you can see is the bodies in the corner. A group of people who you assume are here to size up the competition and try to intimidate them. 

Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus, Enobaria, Finnick and Augustus along with their tributes are all sitting there glaring at you. Well all of them besides Finnick, who is the same age as Augustus who is the same age as you and Hardin. Just a bunch of 17 and 18 year olds that deserve to be anyone but here. Finnick was smiling at you, looking you up and down before leaning over and making a comment to Augustus who then smirks. 

The look on their faces makes your skin crawl, but you dont show it. Your upper lip pulling into a sneer as you fake gag in their direction causing Hardin to laugh as you keep walking towards the elevator. Thankfully disappearing from the Careers sight. 

~~~~

Finnick was tired.. 

Tired of being in the Capitol. Tired of kissing asses, tired of sleeping around, and tired of pretending like he hated every other tribute who walked through the door. But mostly he was just tired, he really needed a nap and a good shower. He was practically sleeping with his eyes open not listening to the others when he heard the crowd outside start screaming. 

He looked around quickly, thinking maybe one of the other careers had made their way outside. But no, the whole group was still there. As they all turned towards the door and waited, Finnick was stuck between relief and jealousy. Relief that maybe the people of the Capitol had found a new favorite and would leave him alone, and jealousy that the crowd was honestly being louder for whoever was outside than they were for him. 

The jealousy washed away though when the doors opened and a beautiful girl walked in with her escort and who Finnick assumed was her district partner. Arms full of flowers, hair ruffled from fingers running through it and cheeks pink from embarrassment. 

He knew right away by the lack of a Victor and the pink man escorting them that they were the tributes from District 9. While the guy looked around clearly amazed with the building, which to be honest happened to most of the tributes, the girl looked unimpressed. She rolled her eyes at her district mate, shouldered him a little before turning and noticing the group. 

Which also seemed to be unimpressive to her. 

While she looked them over, Finnick looked her over. She was tall for a girl, probably 5’7 or 5’8. Her hair was clean and down to the middle of her back, she was thin but not thin like most who came from her district. Definitely not thin like those from 12. More like the type of thin people get when they work the fields, which is probably what she did coming from 9. 

They both looked in shape while the girl looked a little healthier and a little stronger, Finnick knew that appearances were deceiving. While he was sizing her up she turned and locked eyes with him. By the look on her face, she yet again was not impressed. Finnick leaned over to Augustus and whispered “I think we should probably watch out for that one. But smile, make her think we are making fun of her.” 

Augustus, who was new to all of this, smiled condescendingly at her before she sneered at them. Laughed with her district mate and left, the two teens turning back to the other careers. “We need to watch them, that's the first time 9 hasnt been scared shitless when they walked in. Plus for whatever reason the crowd loved them, and that's always a problem.” Cashmere said, looking down at her nails before looking over at her brother who nodded. 

That was all that passed between the group before they all went up to watch the reapings. 

~~~~~~~~~

After hair was ripped out that you didn't even know existed, you were bathed and rubbed with an oil that made your skin seem tanned and shimmery. Makeup was smeared across your face as someone else was pulling at your hair. You sat quietly knowing that fussing was just going to make the process longer. Soon enough, but not soon enough you were left in just a robe in an empty room with nothing but a cot, a chair and a wardrobe. 

When the door opened, a dark skinned woman with her hair back in box braids stepped in. She had just a little gold makeup on, and a small gold rose tattooed behind her ear. She smiled genuinely at you before pulling you into a hug, when she pulled back she squeezed your shoulders. “I'm sorry you have to be here.” She said so quietly you almost missed it. 

All you did was nod and look down, but she put a hand under your chin and lifted your face. You could tell as she turned it and then looked at your hair that she was examining the team's work. Your eye make up was dramatic, a medium dark green on the lid, with orange brushed into brown that reminded you of leaves changing color. Your bottom lid had the same orange and brown along with dramatic winged eyeliner and false lashes. 

Your hair had a thick but slightly messy fishtail crown braid with the rest waterfalling down your back in waves. Small clips that had butterflies, bees and dragonflies on them had been placed seemingly at random around your head. A crown woven with flowers such as Cardinal flower, wood lilies, dotted gayflower, and multiple colors of milkweed rested on your head. The smell was amazing, they looked and smelled like they had just bloomed in the fields behind your home. The mulberries and huckleberries looked like they had been picked at their peak and preserved perfectly. 

“My name is Lavanna, I'm your and Hardin's main stylist. I will be designing all your outfits, I'm fresh out of school, this is my first game. But I plan to put you out there in a big way. Not to sound full of myself but I think the only person who could out do what I have planned for you is my younger brother Cinna.. And thankfully he's still in school.” Lavanna smiled at you before turning to the wardrobe and pulling out what you think are pieces of a dress. 

She helps you into a dress that is skin tight from the shoulders, down your arms and chest. Tight all the way to your hips where it had just enough room and stretch to walk before it reached along with a slit that went very very high up your right leg. The top, including your arms, was green like the forest then it started to mix and fade into a dark amberish color. Then it ombred down into a beautiful bright orange that reminded you of the sunsets back home. Again it felt like you were looking at the leaves changing. 

She helped you into orange heels that wrapped up your legs but thankfully had a thick heel. Last but not least she told you to raise your arms as she wrapped a belt around your waist. It perfectly blended in with the color of your dress, and attached was something out of a book. It looked like it belonged to royalty or a goddess, not you. 

Behind you was a long tulle train, the tulle barely colored to match the dress where it needed too. But at the bottom was leaves, they started green but turned into rich reds and bright vivid oranges and yellows. Leaf shapes stood out to you, yet again from back home. 

Birch, black walnut, black and red maple, northern pine oak and cottonwood leaves. Entwined into the leaves were other plants like fluffy cattails, golden wheat, and pampas grass. The only thing you could recognize that wasn't from your district in the entire outfit was pampas grass. All the flowers, all the leaves, even the berries in the crown were all something that grew in your district. 

When she turned you around and you caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror you had to step closer and touch the glass. You couldn't believe this was you, sure you had always been told you were pretty, but this was something else. With just some make up, a good proper shower and some fancy clothes you looked like a goddess. You wanted to cry, but couldn't bear to ruin the hours of work you had just gone through. 

Lavanna could tell you were at a loss for words, so she stepped forward, careful of the huge train she had created. She smiled at you in the mirror and spoke softly trying not to spook you. “I decided to go a different direction.. The whole farmers thing is a little played out, plus you volunteered for a young girl. And your friend volunteered to stay with you, so I thought you guys deserved something really special.” 

When you spoke, it was a whisper “I look like some type of goddess or something.. Like something out of the books in the district library.” You turned to her when she started chuckling, unsure if she was laughing at you or not but she shook her head. “That's what I was going for. Ceres and Saturn, the Goddess of Grain crop and Agriculture. She was also a fertility goddess but we don't need to get into that. And then Saturn God of abundance, wealth, agriculture and a few other unimportant things. Would you like to go see his outfit?” 

 You nodded silently, still stunned as you looked at yourself one last time. Then you followed Lavanna out into a hall, then down into an area outside that was full of people in costumes and chariots. You turned away refusing to look at the other tributes as you looked for Hardin. And when he appeared you were just as awestruck by his outfit as you had been by your own. But also by him, because he looked so much healthier than he had before. 

Hardin had gladiator sandals on with a toga that was tight to his chest and showing part of it. It was the same colors as yours but without all the filigree. He had a crown of leaves that matched the bottom of your train, it had the same berries and some branches on it. His dark curly hair was shiny and tamed for the first time, probably ever. He was also holding a very sharp looking scythe.  He looked like the god that would stand next to you, and in this moment he would. 

He stared at you in a daze, watching as the train and the bottom of the dress swished around you. He had always told you that you were beautiful, really one of the best looking girls in your age group back home. But now you really looked beautiful, not sweat covered and exhausted from a day in the fields. Even more tired because you knew you would need to come home and care for your grandparents before getting a few hours of sleep and doing it again. You looked like someone who could actually win. 

Finnick watched from the district four chariot. He had to force his jaw not to drop as he turned to the sound of heels clicking. His tributes were already waiting on the chariot, one dressed like a fisher the other like a mermaid. They looked great but nowhere near as breathtaking as you looked. 

It literally felt like someone slapped Finnick in the face when you walked in. The color of the dress perfectly sets off your skin tone. Your hair fell in just the right way to frame your face. The makeup was dramatic and made the color of your eyes pop. Whoever was styling you had done a fantastic job, but Finnick knew they had a gorgeous model to work with. 

He figured you would have looked beautiful in the normal farmer garb your district normally wore. He watched with slight jealousy as you laughed with the male tribute whose name he learned was, Hardin. Watching with a curious mind as the two of you pointed out leaves on your dress with bright eyes and laughed. 

He wished that he could be as carefree as you were in that moment. His thoughts were interpreted by a whack on the head. When he turned rubbing the sore spot Mags was smiling up at him with a knowing look. “You like her don't you.” She said as a statement and not a question. 

Finnick shook his head and looked around frantically, “First off, you know not to say things like that. Second, I dont even know her.. I just think..” his voice trailed off as he turned back to look at you. A woman who he assumed was your stylist was flitting around you tapping on things placed in your hair. He watched as small insects began to flutter their wings. 

His mouth moved without his brain telling it too, he felt so comfortable around Maggie that the facade he put up every single day outside of his home slipped. “I just think she's the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.” As soon as it was out he coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had never said something like that, or felt so inclined to talk to someone. 

He watched as you and Hardin stepped up onto your chariot, you were now holding a small basket woven into a cornucopia. Your stylist team shoved small flowers and foods into the basket as the main stylist  moved the train of your dress to flow behind you. Lavanna held it up with the help of one of the others as your chariot moved. Mags gasped when the wind from the ride caught the ends of your train holding it up. The tulle had folded out giving the effect of leaves and grass flying out behind your chariot. All he wanted was to catch your scent on the air, to feel your warmth radiate around him like the sun. 

Taking a step back he forced his brain to remind his hormonal heart that he no longer had the luxury of thinking like that. 

He belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. And to the people who threw money away to spend time with him. No matter how disgusting he felt when he crawled into bed at night, it didn't matter. He had people to protect, parents and a friend or two. He couldn't allow himself to feel things towards those he couldn't have. 

And he couldn't have you.

~

~

~

PART 2

[iloveschiaparelli]

Finding out from my mom that I spoke full sentences at 10 months old and then adding that to all my other memories of being young just feels like a punch to the gut

When I first self dxd autism I knew that my experiences from age 10 up were consistent with autism diagnostic criteria but I only had a very vague understanding of how my early childhood was affected. Like I knew that I behaved the same way but I didn't have any specific examples and at first my mom didn't believe me either, so she wasn't much help. I honestly believed that I must not have presented autism in an obvious way, since it was missed in my childhood.

But since then I've realized/learned several things:

I was speaking in full sentences at 10 months old. Typically that isn't supposed to happen until age 3 or 4.

I spoke incessantly. All the time. To the point where my mom still jokes that they had to "train me to stop talking" (what exactly that entailed I have no idea???)

Throughout my life including early childhood people have asked me to slow down when talking or remarked on how fast I spoke

In my childhood and pretty much through out my life pre-depresion, people would remark on how good my memory was. Especially in my early childhood (4-8 years old) I would get comments like this ALL THE TIME, I just remembered literally everything?

I taught myself to read at age 4. Because I wanted to read the same storybook over and over again for a period of over a week at least, and my caregivers were sick of reading it to me and started saying no when I asked. So I said "fine, I'll just read it to myself." I was reading at a 3rd grade level at least. by the time i was 5. When I was 5 or 6, I read The Secret Garden, unabridged. I remember this because I was really into tinkerbell at the time, it had just come out. TSG was my mom's copy of the book from her childhood and I had to confess to her that I had fallen asleep while reading and the paperback cover had fallen off in my bed.

Despite making my way through the book pretty quickly, I did not understand a lick of the meaning. I just took down the sequence of events.

I often sat down and arranged stones or blocks or my dollhouse elements by category, size, or color. I would also spend times trying to make sure the chains on the swinger were perfectly aligned.

I watched Finding Nemo maybe 30 times when I was 1-3 years old. Like I would beg my parents to start it over again immediately after it finished. At the time my parents owned a wall projector instead of a TV, so big picture. I suspect now that I was seeking out a visual stim because I still find that movie delightful.

Also forgot to mention, we lived in Japan when I was 1-2.5 and I started learning Japanese?? I don't remember it but according to my parents I was already using some Japanese words by the time we returned to the US. And I had learned to use chopsticks.

Dinosaur. Arms.

Picky eating that was explicitly known to be a texture issue. Nobody thought to analyze this further.

When I was 6 or so I was exposed to plush blankets for the first time. It became my dream to own one. I bought my first one when I was 19 and now I own like 10 of them because plush is one of my favorite textures in the world. But girls I would literally sit in bed and dream about owning a plush blanket. For years. Every time I went to summer camp and someone brought one for themselves I would stare at it, forlorn. Yearning.

I would read the science homeschool books excessively. I went into 5th grade Earth Science already knowing everything that we were being taught, because I had pored over geology and physical science books since I was 5. Probably about 5 years old is when I was able to explain how volcanoes worked and the layers of the earth. Also the water cycle.

These science books also included my dad's 100 year complete collection of national geographic magazines. At 2 years old I was able to explain the star life cycle and how black holes formed. As well as what would happen if you fell into one.

Once I gained access to the internet at 14 my knowledge of the cosmos expanded explosively. I became able to thoroughly explain multiverse theory, multiple theories for the origin of the universe, a good deal of the geological history of Mars, Mars's atmospheric composition, and could fully explain how solar flares worked, how Earth's magnetic field protected us, and how Mars magnetic field had disappeared taking the atmosphere with it. I was failing biology.

Transfered schools twice and a year later had to start biology over again, this time aced it. DNA replication was simple as pie.

SUCKED at math. Always.

Sucked at socialization.

Hyperfixated on the Maze Runner movies to the point where I had the 2nd one memorized and would read the credits for fun. Got so into the BTS that 5 years later I went to film school.

LOUD music was my faborite coping mechanism. Just about destroyed my hearing because I would, on a nightly basis, play heavydirtysoul on loop through the Brookstone ear buds I had gotten for Christmas at Max volume until I felt calm enough to sleep. Would also squirm with the music which i now know to be an uninformed attempt at stimming.

Just... how did I NOT get screened for autism as a kid? I was literally a textbook case for what likely would have been diagnosed as aspergers at the time.

My parents were somewhat neglectful at that time because of a lot of reasons, but I don't really fault them for it. Sometimes I forget that they even were but then I remember things like this.

Asked my mom about it yesterday "how did you not think me speaking full sentences at 10 months was weird?!!" And her response was "we didn't know!"

They didn't know my dad was autistic.

They didn't know that hitting your milestones 2-3 years early is NOT normal and likely a sign of a disorder.

They didn't know that repetitive behavior and obsessive organizing is not normal.

If they had known...... my childhood would have been so different. I wouldn't have nearly flunked out of college. I wouldn't have grown to hate myself because of my social skills. I wouldn't have had countless episodes of feeling like I was going to explode out of my skin but shoving it down and chewing on my cheek just to get through the social situation. So much would have been different.

This is why it's so important to spread general awareness of autism symptoms and behaviors. Real and varied examples, not just solely sdtereotypes and nonverbal autistic alone. And not just autism either but pretty much any disorder.

Or at least an awareness about what child development is SUPPOSED to look like, so that parents can flag when things aren't normal.

[imgeekgirlfan]

Renegada♱

Taglist: @707otto @juxt4p0siti0n @arcticversed (If you want to be added in this fic, just tell me in reply )

Pairings:  Amado Carrillo Fuentes x f!reader(Latina Reader) x Walt Breslin  [From Narcos: Mexico TV Series]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Synopsis : Everything that was happening on Aruba Island wasn't right at all. You know damn well when Amado kissed you. And when you heard the sound of the gunshots behind you

AN : I was almost giving up on updating this fic until I found new comments. Thank you to those who still enjoy my work. I will try to update as long as there are people waiting to read.

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

𝙍𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙙𝙖♱ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

➡  Previous : Next

[5]ᅳ 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐢́𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐨 ✟

"Amado Carrillo Fuentes is more like a businessman than a drug lord. His background is clean compared to others in the same industry. This man is cautious and stays under the radar all the time. We need to know everything about him. Every detail matters.

That's a summary given by Bill Carter in the last meeting before you leave Mexico tonight.

And when the time comes, you have to leave everything about yourself behind. From now on, you'll have to breathe under the name of Camilla, a musician from Cuba. And it will be like this until you can safely return to Mexico again, if there are no mistakes during that time.

Amado's fascination with airplanes is more than what you imagined. You realize this when you're brought to his private airport. Lined up are all types and sizes of planes, totaling no less than a hundred. Every plane here belongs to Amado. Also, it's the same plane used to secretly smuggle tons of cocaine into America every year.

El Señor de los Cielos is the nickname drug dealers use to refer to Amado, the most powerful man both on land and in the sky. The man on top of the food chain

And this same man is waiting for you in front of a private jet. It's not difficult to notice him, with his flowing hair and the same old black shirt you first met him in, now covered with a bomber jacket. A satisfied smile passes through his sunglasses when you step out of the car. You briefly catch Amado's eye before flashing a smile back at him.

Starting the drama with a beautiful face and a survival instinct, just follow a few simple rules: just hold hands, just smile, and just turn a blind eye and pretend to fuck him a few times. Just run away before getting caught.

Throughout the time you step straight into him, you never know what you're really getting into.

Life can change suddenly and easily. One day you're still a CIA officer, and the next you become the partner of a criminal. And what will happen next? How many bombs will explode in front of you? How many people will die in your life? And when will death finally become yours?

You can't find answers to these questions.

Lately, you've often imagined the end of yourself, from the moment you closed your eyes to the moment you woke up—every pain you've ever experienced in the past, which still remains and continues to haunt you. It will never disappear until the end comes for you, just like it did for others before.

The end must come one day. And for the law enforcer who fights against the dark power all the time, there's no way this story will end well. Either with you or with Amado.

You know. You're prepared, unwaveringly. But it still turns out worse than expected.

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

Aruba Island, Kingdom of the Netherlands

1600 (Military Time) *Three Hours Before the Incident*

Although it's approaching evening, the sunlight on Aruba Island is still bright and clear, no different from the afternoon. The scene in the travel magazine doesn't seem exaggerated at all when seen with your own eyes. The clean white sandy beaches, lush green coconut trees, and crystal-clear blue sea reflect the shimmering sun. It's breathtakingly beautiful here, and the atmosphere is just right—neither too quiet nor too bustling like the seas in Miami or Thailand.

This place is suitable for tourism, you think, and also suitable for opening a cocaine market for these tourists.

But Amado's purpose for coming to Aruba Island remains unclear, something you must urgently investigate while there's still a chance.

For you, every second is crucial and calculated, tension infiltrating every action.

But for Amado, it's the opposite. He seems completely at ease. You can tell from the relaxed smile on his face all the time.

You glance at Amado thoughtfully, not hiding your slight surprise as you see him change into a blue Hawaiian shirt, yellow shorts, and slip on sunglasses with a smile. He blends seamlessly with the other tourists. For you, this is quite a surprising and unexpected look compared to his usual all-black attire.

"What wrong, Mija?[1] You're staring at me too much, I'm starting to blush," he said, raising his eyebrows with a playful smile after handing you the Esquites[2] he bought from the nearby store. "Or am I so handsome that I'm stunning you?"

You chuckled and took the Esquites from his hand, then pretended to glance at him with a half-serious look. "It's not that much," you shrugged. "Just... average."

"Average? No, Mija. You should say, You look so handsome, Amado!"

You burst into laughter again, genuinely amused by this man's incredible sense of humor.

The dark stories you've heard about the drug wars in Mexico seem like distant memories here. There's no violence, no gunfire or explosions, and no cocaine. 

And your date, who was enjoying Esquites by the seaside with you at this moment, was hardly anything like a world-class drug dealer.

But beneath the seemingly ordinary and charming nature of Amado Carrillo Fuentes, you know what he's capable of and how dangerous he is.

Honey trapping [3] is another important method to access intelligence for secret agents worldwide. It's not your expertise compared to other spies, but you're confident that you can do it just as well. You intentionally charm him without going too far, being both a good speaker and listener, creating an atmosphere that's relaxed and friendly. Every conversation you have leads him to tell you what you want to know.

However, Amado's responses barely provide any significant information for the mission. It seems more like casual chit-chat. If it weren't for the fact that he is exceptionally clever and cautious, it would mean that he must be a very inane person.

Of course, you're damn sure he's not stupid. Amado is a true master of deception. What you can do is make him like you enough to let his guard down a bit, and that's the ultimate challenge of this mission.

There's still plenty of time. You think. And maybe...that was the first mistake that led to bad things in ways you never expected.

"I want you to answer truthfully, Mija."

That sounds like just another normal question from Amado, but not for you. You blinked slightly as you caught a hint of seriousness in his tone. Yet, you still pretended to smile as if everything were normal. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I do, right?"

For a moment, you hesitated. But you managed to maintain your composure, even though your heart was pounding with excitement and anxiety.

You couldn't predict why he asked you this question. You weren't sure if it was just one of Amado's tests, or worse, if he was starting to suspect you. But regardless, your answer would undoubtedly affect the entire mission, one way or another.

Because Amado was clear about wanting the truth. Ultimately, you chose to take the risk and answer as he desired. You softly reply, "i think I can figured as much."

"And aren't you afraid of me? Even when you know what I do?"

It could be either a threat or a challenge from the drug lord. You could feel Amado's piercing gaze, scrutinizing. However, this time, you handled it better than before. You turned to face him, inching closer without a hint of fear, even if just a little.

"Should I be afraid then?"

"Of course, you should be terrified, Mija," Amado's arms wrapped around your waist slowly, pulling your body closer until there was no space between you. The mingling sensation of his breath tickling your face, combined with the scent of cologne and cigarettes, made your heart race in a way different from before, clear and distinct.

It was too close—much closer than you thought. A slight flutter of nervousness crossed your mind, but you couldn't retreat, especially when you were under his tight arms.

Amado was too smart. He deliberately blocked off every escape route for you.

"My life has encountered many terrifying things,There's nothing left in this world that can make me scared anymore."

That was another truth you decided to reveal to him.

Certainly, you were afraid of the mission failing. But that didn't mean you were afraid of Amado. Years of CIA work exposed you to countless horrors. You had killed many and lost many. So, what reason did you have to fear someone like him?

It wasn't just Amado who tried to test or challenge you. You chose to do the same. It was a slight defiance and a steady gaze that showed your refusal to submit. That was enough to create even more surprise for the man known as the biggest in the drug trade, a man whom everyone else bowed to out of fear.

The sun had disappeared from the sky, gradually dimming Amado's face with shadows. However, his eyes still sparkled, no different from the streetlights. You tried hard to read his thoughts from his expression, but it was too difficult. You didn't know what he was thinking or what he would do next.

But his decision in the end surprised you.

His lips pressed against yours, catching you off guard. It was a brief  kiss, yet long enough to make you feel and remember every detail. the stubble of his beard, the bitter taste of cigarettes lingering on his tongue, the warm and humid heat in his mouth, intense with desire until your body trembled.

It felt as though your lips were being burned by an invisible flame, and the fire still smoldered deep within even after he pulled away. His hand lingered on your cheek, trailing slowly down to your chin, before using his thumb to touch your lower lip. Amado's eyes never left yours, and beneath those intense gazes, there was something dangerous and alluring hidden within.

"Will you dance with me?"

Even though you knew how dangerous he was, Amado was undeniably romantic. That was something you had to admit.

Nothing could be more romantic than dancing on the beach at night. And Amado knew it well. The moonlight shining brightly in the sky, the breeze blowing through your hair and skin, and the sweet melody of Latin music floating in the air. His large hand rested on the small of your back, and his arm wrapped comfortably around your waist, gently guiding your body to sway to the rhythm.

This time, there were no tests or challenge like before. "Just dancing with me" Amado said before pulling you back into his embrace. 

The dance proceeded quietly and calmly. The word 'calm' felt strangely out of place for a CIA like you. It was like a phrase that didn't exist in your life, But what was happening now might be the closest thing you could think of—a feeling of relaxation and comfort as you laid your head on his chest, and his thumb to massage your back.

This wasn't right at all.

Standing in a country where you hardly knew, in a street where you had forgotten the name, you felt safe next to a man you knew was dangerous. It wasn't something you should feel at a time like this with someone like him. You should say something, focus on the mission as you should, but at the same time, you didn't want to ruin what was happening. And Amado probably felt the same. He was silent, saying nothing, Everything between you and him was so quiet that you could hear the music, the laughter of other dancing couples nearby, the sound of the waves, and the sound of his breath blowing on your neck.

...Before the sound of the gunshots rang out.

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

[1] Mija in Spanish means "daughter." However, in a slang context, it can mean "dear” or “honey"

[2]Esquites Another name for it is "elote en vaso" or "elote" (specifically in America). It's a well-known Mexican street food made with grilled corn, mayonnaise, spices, and cheese.

[3] Honey trapping is a method of investigation or espionage that has been used since World War II. It involves deception through the use of romantic or sexual relationships with a target individual who possesses important information or resources.

[blacknwhitemood]

I'm still buying DM stuff, I think over it more or less. I bought a 40 years old American collection LP (up here) that I already have in CD (40 years old and American). Is it logical? Of course.

I bought my second Construction Time Again (down here, Made in Sweden) and sold my first one for 12€ (in the middle , Made in West Germany, bye-bye...), because it hasn't got this black sleeve with the lyrics and the paper cover is in really bad condition, though the record is perfect. My 1st selling! Rocks.

I bought an interesting double CD from Taboo Records, seems Hungarian but it is written "Made in Pangea", like the 100 million years old, ancient continent. This is Dream On Budapest!, the Exciter Tour concert in Hungary, 12th of September, 2001. Fans made a short video on the day of the gig about Dave while he's speaking on his cellphone next to the hotel they stayed (it would've been a hard day after the 9/11 attack, leaving his family or friends back home in NYC).

Booklet has beauties, I put one here:

Another Videos 86>98+ DVD (2002) which is double DVD compared to the first edition and the 2nd record has treasures including Condemnation (Paris Mix) official video that was made in Hungary and But Not Tonight's video which song I love somehow, that's why I bought Black Celebration's U.S. edition LP. I have the DVD's 1998 version (scroll down), now could sell it but I need this for the full story: Corbijn finally agreed to put this beauty to the official selection.

First I ordered this double DVD from Antal, I've found it on his shop's website. He went on holiday for whole July and August, so I had to wait until 2nd of September. He was much friendly this time although I didn't buy anything, because he talked me out of it! In fact the DVD has the European bar code on his website, but he has the US version, that I couldnt' have played at home in his opinion. Weird, but I believed him and went home empty-handed.

Than I was searching for it for hours, 22 years old stuff, does it exists in Hungary at all? I found it only at French Amazon. You can bet, after 1,5 months the DVD lost somewhere in Europe, luckily I got back my money after 4-5 e-mails. Without any hope I visited an infamous online used stuff market and I found a piece that was sold already. I didn't know why, but I called the seller by phone, he answered "actually I still have the DVD because I haven't sold it last weekend at the blablabla festival". Wow. On the same day I got it <3

Short report: I have 38 vinyls so far - including a Soulsavers album, 12"-7" together, 5 more singles is coming in couple of weeks. After that I'll sell 3 of mine which are the same pieces but other editions, I prefer British copies if I find somewhere. Also have 14 CDs (with Paper Monsters), it's funny, because I promised earlier that I don't buy one, and actually I need 2 more (Precious and an other edition of Only When I Lose Myself because of its lovely B-side songs: Free and Surrender). 5 DVDs and a cassette and 6 books/magazines (one more is coming by my "dealer"), some pins, shirts, jewelleries and other clothing. Like a teen, OMG. Bizarre. Laugh, I do the same. Happily.

Details (occasionally mixed): #vinyl collection; #non-vinyl collection

And a little fun at the end from @cultureconnoisseurs.

[xsweetcatastrophe]

You Broke Me First

this is my first time writing anything. be nice.

part 1

He's late.

Zoe sat at the end of the bar, her phone on one side and her recorder on the other. She fought off ordering a beer, she wanted to be polite and wait for him.

But if he's going to take his time and be a half hour late, all manners are going out the window at this point.

Right when she was about to flag the bartender down, her phone buzzed.

Sorry, there was traffic. Parking now and walking up. Be there in 5. - C

Zoe couldn't have rolled her eyes harder.

"I hate to ask, but did you get stood up for a first date?" the young bartender finally said, noticing her and walking over. "You've been staring at the door the entire time like you're expecting someone"

"I'm expecting someone, but it's not a date, trust me." Zoe said, holding up her recorder. "Can I have a Allagash White? you can keep it open" She said, handing the bartender her card.

Zoe went into journalism because she cared about people and their stories. She felt it was a lost art; the industry now is filled with clickbait articles and poorly researched topics that led people to believe a false narrative.

One of Zoe's favorite childhood memories is reading the Reader's Digest with her father. She would wait for it in the mail, run to him in the living room where he normally was - in his recliner smoking a cigarette watching the news - and read it from cover to cover with him. Her favorite was the jokes section when she was younger. As she got older, she would ask her father questions and it would open the door to deep conversations about the world in the people in it. She continued these conversations with her dad well into her teenage years; as well as when he was in the hospital dying of lung cancer from the very cigarettes that were burned into her favorite memories of him.

She went to Columbia. Masters in Journalism. She thought her writing was going to change the world and show people how they could fall in love with journalism and get excited to read articles again; Spark conversations with people and have them connect with one another.

Why was she working for Page Six doing celebrity profiles?

Honestly - it paid the bills. Student loans aren't going to pay themselves. She learned the hard way that life is not an early 2000's rom-com; where you could have a column in a magazine, live in a brownstone and go out every night with your friends drinking cosmos.

No, life right now was living in a 1 bedroom apartment, with a questionable water stain on the ceiling, a window AC that barely works and a 70 year old lady who lives next door that has more men over than you do.

It's just temporary, yes. She might of been here for 3 years already, but it's not forever. 32 isn't old and she can still find her forever job. Yes, everything is fine. All part of the plan.

At least, that's what she tells herself when she's having a panic attack about it at night.

In a strange way, she IS learning about people... celebrities, that is. Her interview style was more casual; she felt people opened up more when they were doing something they loved, or over a drink. And people did open up.. she got to interview Leonardo DiCaprio and got a lecture from him when she asked her bartender for a straw. She never heard the end of that one. She learned how to roll a joint from Seth Rogan. She got to have coffee with Anne Hathaway and she showed her all the outfits she kept from when she filed The Devil Wears Prada. This would be any girl's dream... why can't she appreciate it more?

Finally, he walked in.

He was in a black T-shirt, jeans and boots. He looked around the somewhat empty bar, looking for someone who might be expecting him. Zoe caught his attention, and he walked over.

"Sorry, so sorry... this traffic sucks," he said, pulling out the barstool next to her.

"I'm Cillian, nice to meet you"

[p5x-theories]

Kiyoshi's Confidant

(last updated 10/13/24!)

This post documents the fully filled-in information on Kiyoshi Kurotani gained through progressing his Confidant! It contains things that could be considered spoilers for his Confidant, as part of the information is a summary of its story.

Kiyoshi is available in the afternoons most days, when it isn’t rainy. His Confidant is tied to the Guts social stat, and level 17 Guts is required to fully complete it.

Favorite Presents

(An asterisk (*) marks the special presents added with (and unlocked through) Miyu Sahara’s Confidant, which are liked by all Confidants currently in the game.)

Supernatural Video There's no telling what might actually happen in this supernatural-themed video...?

Mysterious Glasses Black-framed glasses that are said to allow the wearer to see invisible things.

Silver Bracelet Simple and relaxed designer bracelet.

48-Sided Rubik's Cube Difficult cone-shape Rubik's Cube.

Handmade Book Cover Set Handmade book cover compatible with three commonly-used book sizes. Protects books well.

Cowhide Pencil Case Pencil case made of tough leather. Very durable.

Black Lacquer Mug Stylish mug. The black appearance looks very mature.

Men's Sun Hat A hat for outdoor activities that protects against UV rays.

Popular Comic Monthly The most popular monthly manga magazine among young people. It has published many topical works.

Limited-Edition Keychain* This keychain has a unique shape, and is well-made, but there weren’t many of it produced. It has a certain collector’s value.

Bulk Snacks Value Pack* A combo pack containing a variety of traditional snacks that will remind people of the taste of childhood.

Advanced Essential Oil Combination* A value-for-money set of essential oils, with multiple functions to help you relax your mind and body.

Chestnut Cake* Fragrant chestnut cake with mild sweetness to suit most people’s tastes.

Musical Snow Globe* A snow globe that plays music, and can be shaken gently to make snow fall inside.

Desktop Incense Machine* A household incense machine that is small in size, so it can be placed anywhere.

Personal Information

Birthday: December 26 Zodiac Sign: Capricorn Age: 15 years old Profession: Student Height: 170 cm Weight: 53 kg Interests: Reading books and visiting forums Features: Investigation

Story

Character Details A first-year high school student at Kokatsu Academy who always looks mysterious and likes to call himself the "Chosen One".

Personal Data 1 Kurotani claims that he has a mysterious power, and for some unknown reason, he also calls me a Chosen One selected by fate, his companion in destiny. Kurotani also insists that a "major threat" has invaded the school, and everyone is in danger... though no one seems to understand what he wants to say.

Personal Data 2 In order to investigate the threat, Kurotani took me to the "Destroyed Land" at the school, and told me a story about the Demon King and how his remains were buried there. However, a passing teacher told us that the so-called "Destroyed Land" is actually just a cat toilet...

Personal Data 3 Our second investigation took us to the "Howling Corridor", but Kurotani, the Chosen One with a mysterious power, is unexpectedly very afraid of Japanese ghosts... It turned out that the so-called "Howling Corridor" was just a drama club member. The girl was practicing her acting skills, so it was a false alarm.

Personal Data 4 Our third investigation was the "Assassination Juice". After some running around, Kurotani discovered that it was actually just a classmate named Take who was buying all the juice. But it seems that Take is deliberately hiding some secret that makes people care...

Personal Data 5 After further investigation, it was discovered that Take is being bullied by a group of delinquents who claimed to be his good friends. At a critical moment, Kurotani stood up in time to protect Take. Although the momentary crisis has passed, it seems that the matter is still not over...

Personal Data 6 In our fourth investigation, Kurotani and I went to the legendary "Devil's Multimedia Classroom" to look for the girl who sent a love letter to Kurotani... In the end, we didn't find a girl, but got locked in the classroom. When we finally got out, we saw the figure of Take... Why did he lock us in?

Personal Data 7 After Kurotani and I met with Take, Take admitted that he was coerced by his "good friends"... The angry Kurotani reprimanded Take and told him to learn to say no, but he did not expect Take, who had always been taciturn, to suddenly refute him angrily... Kurotani was deeply affected, and began to reflect on himself.

Personal Data 8 Kurotani invited me to "have a drink" (of milk cartons) together. During this, he talked about his past, and seems to have gradually figured out through his own experiences why Take would disagree with him. Maybe he, like Take, is a person who longs for friendship...

Personal Data 9 Kurotani once again found Take. He decided to become someone who isn't all talk, and stood up for him bravely. This time his sincerity also touched Take. From this moment on, they're newfound friends.

Personal Data 10 Once again, I had a "drink" with Kurotani, but his mood was completely different. He found the answer he'd been looking for, and the true meaning of being a Chosen One. The adventure is not over yet. This is just a small episode in the journey of the Chosen Ones. There are still more legends waiting to be cracked in the future.

Voice Lines

Japanese VA: Yūsuke Kobayashi | Chinese VA: Xiang Xu

(As I can only add up to ten audio files per post, I’ll only include the Japanese lines below! Feel free to ask for the Chinese ones, though.)

I'm the same as you, a Chosen One, Kiyoshi Kurotani.

Why was I chosen, you ask? Because I'm me, naturally.

There's no need to think about whether I can do it, I can just do it.

You're a Chosen One, same as me. If you have any questions, feel free to discuss them with me, okay?

One day, my story will be written in a book, and praised by future generations... Thinking about this motivates me to keep working hard.

I can't turn a blind eye to Take-kun's situation...

Confidant-Specific Bonuses

Rank 1 Rest Is Also a Battle: Obtain the book Effective Relaxation Methods.

Rank 3 Healing Angel: Obtain the book All About First Aid.

Rank 11 Breaking Through the Limitations of the Human Body: Obtain the book Muscle, GO!.

Rank 15 I Already Know: Obtain the book Secret Techniques of Librarians!.

Rank 20 See Through Everything: Obtain the book Film and Film Critics.