#Dick Stammes

[aad1952]

511. En toen viel het licht uit. Monumentendag 2024.

“Hey Aad, heb jij nog zin om mee te doen aan Monumentendag bij ons op zondag 15 september a.s.”, vraagt de organisatrice, Marian, van het evenement bij het Hoogheemraadschap van Delfland. Je mag die dag de Dijkgraaf zijn. Zo kreeg ik zo’n week of zes voor de activiteit een Whatsapp-berichtje. Ik hoef daar niet lang over na te denken. Ik houd van verkleden en heb deze rol al een aantal malen met…

[fragwuerdiger-episodenguide]

(041) Die drei ??? und das Volk der Winde

Klappentext

Der Wissenschaftler Arnold Brewster ruft die drei Detektive zu Hilfe, denn durch eine Intrige ist er in ein Altersheim abgeschoben worden. Justus, Bob und Peter versuchen, ihm zu helfen. Sie kommen dabei einem geheimnisvollen Geschehen auf die Spur, bei dem es um Indianer, Gold und einen rätselhaften "Tanzenden Saurier" geht. Tödliche Gefahren lauern auf die drei ??? …

Veröffentlichungshistorie Buch (Random House): Find Your Fate 002, 1985, Rose Estes, The Case of the Dancing Dinosaur Buch (Kosmos): 040, 1987, Leonore Puschert (aus dem Amerikanischen übertragen) Hörspiel (Europa): 041, 1987

⁉️ Allgemein

Handlungsort

Comina

Kategorie

Diebstahl

Figuren

Justus Jonas

Peter Shaw

Bob Andrews

Arnold Brewster, Professor für Völkerkunde

Clifford Brewster, Neffe von Arnold Brewster, Wirtschaftsprüfer

Alfred Zindler, Anwalt (😈)

Marie Brewster, Nichte von Arnold Brewster

Martin Ishniak, Assistent von Arnold Brewster an der Uni, Enkelsohn von Pamir

Pamir "Old Tom", Sprecher der Winde, Hüter der Erde und Beschützer einer Welt, Großvater von Martin Ishniak

🏖 Rocky Beach Universum

Orte

Comina, Stadt

Einrichtungen

Golden House, Altersheim

Schrottplatz

Zentrale

Tanzende Wasser Bar & Grill, Hotel/Restaurant

Sonstiges

Volk der Winde, Stamm amerikanischer Ureinwohner, haben Handel mit Weißen getrieben und mit Gold gezahlt

Die tanzenden Wasser, Wasserfall

Der tanzende Saurier, eine 60cm hohe und 10cm dicke Steinplatte mit Goldeinschlüssen und einem eingeschlossenen kleinen Dinosaurierskelett

🛼 Sonstiges

Lustige Dialoge

Bob: "Nun müssen wir nur noch sehen, wie wir da rankommen. Wahrscheinlich lässt sich irgendwas verschieben oder reindrücken." Peter: "Oder drehen."

Justus: "Den klaut schon keiner." [eine Szene später] Peter: "Der Saurier ist weg!" Bob: "Hä?" Justus: "Was? Was ist los?" Peter: "Das hörst du doch: Der Saurier ist weg. Ich habe die Platte auf diesen Tisch gelegt und… und jetzt ist sie nicht mehr da."

Justus: "Ausgezeichnet, Kollege. Logisch und exakt gedacht." Bob: "Hmm." Justus: "So muss ein guter Detektiv an einen Fall herangehen." Bob: "Ja." Justus: "Diese Äußerung hätte von mir sein können."

Bob: "Jedenfalls sieht der ‚tanzende Saurier' irre gut aus."

Bob: "Ist scheinbar auch nicht richtig hier. Himmel, ah, stechen die Dornen. Oh, das tut verdammt weh, oh." Justus: "Was ist denn das? Der Busch wächst ja gar nicht aus dem Boden: Er ist nur zwischen diesen Steinbrocken festgeklemmt." Bob: "Just, das spielt für mich keine Rolle. Ich sitze fest. Hilf mir doch!" Justus: "Ein wirksames Abschreckungsmanöver. Seht euch das an: Wenn wir die Zweige mit einem Stock zur Seite drücken… ja, dann kommen wir durch." Bob: "Juuust ..." Justus: "Achso. Ja, geht ja schon los, Bob. So, gut so. Du bist frei."

Peter: "Ich begreife nur nicht, warum Marie Clifford eins über den Schädel gezogen hat." Marie: "Was? Ich? Ich soll das gewesen sein?" Peter: "Okay. Wir wissen inzwischen, dass Marie es nicht war."

Phrasenschwein

Aufgelegt! Der Anrufer legt einfach auf und das wir kommentiert!"

🏳️‍🌈 Queer/diversity read

Shippy moments

-

Diversity, Political Correctness and Feminism

Justus: "Und der Mann? Sieht aus wie ein Indianer."

Bob: "Zu spät. Er ist schon im Auto." Justus: "Er oder sie, Kollege. Warum neigt man eigentlich immer dazu, zunächst einmal anzunehmen, dass es ein Mann war?"

Peter: "Mais, Tomaten, Kartoffeln, Bohnen, Kohl und Melonen. Also dieser Garten ist doch viel zu groß für einen einzelnen Indianer."

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 12.16

Beer Birthdays

Joseph Fallert (1842)

Troy Paski (1961)

Bryan Selders (1974)

Nicole Erny (1983)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Ludwig van Beethoven; German composer (1770)

Philip K. Dick; writer (1928)

Bill Hicks; comedian (1961)

Wassily Kandinsky; French artist (1866)

Miranda Otto; Australian actor (1967)

Famous Birthdays

Bruce Ames; biochemist (1928)

Jane Austen; English writer (1775)

Shane Black; actor (1961)

Quentin Blake; artist, illustrator (1932)

Steven Bocho; television producer (1943)

Benjamin Bratt; actor (1963)

Catherine of Aragon; consort of Henry VIII (1485)

Arthur C. Clarke; English scientist, writer (1917)

Barbe-Nicole Clicquot; champagne-maker (1777)

Noel Coward; English writer (1899)

Ben Cross; actor (1947)

Robben Ford; rock, blues guitarist (1951)

Billy Gibbons; rock musician (1949)

Jim Glaser; country singer (1937)

Piet Hein; Danish inventor (1905)

Anthony Hicks; rock singer, guitarist (1943)

Murray Kempton; journalist (1917)

Zoltan Kodaly; composer (1882)

Leopold I; Belgian king (1790)

Danielle Lloyd; English model (1983)

Margaret Mead; anthropologist (1901)

William "Refrigerator" Perry; Chicago Bears DL (1962)

V.S. Pritchett; English writer (1900)

Sam Robards; actor (1961)

George Santayana; Spanish philosopher (1863)

John Selden; English jurist (1584)

Shane; porn actor (1969)

JoAnn Stamm; Mom (1937)

Lesley Stahl; journalist (1941)

Liv Ullman; Norwegian actor (1939)

[epacer]

Sports Page

Dick Draz, ‘godfather of San Diego water polo,’ dies at 92

Dick Draz “single-handedly started water polo in San Diego County,” said former CIF San Diego Section commissioner Dennis Ackerman.

Hall of Famer was ‘a man ahead of his time in his dedication to aquatics’; he was named a San Diego County Coaching Legend in 1999

One of the true legends of San Diego high school sports, Dick Draz, a national Hall of Famer in both water polo (2003) and swimming (1999), died Tuesday. He was 92.

“Dick Draz single-handedly started water polo in San Diego County,” said former CIF San Diego Section commissioner Dennis Ackerman. “He was Mr. Water Polo. He was a longtime tournament director for water polo and swimming and he started the Dick Draz Classic, a fundraiser which always featured some of the best teams. He was so much fun to be around, he was so dedicated.

“Everybody loved him. He made it go.”

One of his many outstanding players at Crawford was Brian Wilbur, a lifelong friend who would go on to work with Draz in presenting the section water polo championships for boys and girls.

Wilbur called Draz “a man ahead of his time in his dedication to aquatics.”

It wasn’t by design. A native of Chagrin Falls, Ohio, Draz arrived at Crawford hoping to coach football.

“The principal told him he was going to coach water polo and swimming, which he knew nothing about,” Wilbur said. “But he went to every clinic, he asked the best coaches, and he learned by burying himself in aquatics.”

As a swim coach at Crawford, he compiled a 253-38-1 record from 1962-86. He was named the National Swimming Coach of the Year in 1986. He captured five section swimming and two water polo titles, although his Colts did make the championship five other times. His water polo record was 334-106-1.

Draz coached dozens of high school All-Americans in both sports. Among them was Mike Stamm, a backstroker who won gold at the 1972 Olympics.

Draz moved on to Mesa College in 1990, which allowed him to be the section tournament director for high school water polo. Draz knew a lot about marketing his sport, Wilbur said; the coach’s hospitality room during the water polo championships became legendary among the media, college and high school coaches and city officials who visited La Jolla High School.

“He cared about every one of his players — all of us — and when they came home from college, he’d stay connected,” Wilbur said. “He was so committed to the sport. He went to the San Diego Unified School District board meetings numerous times to keep aquatics alive. He was very persuasive.

“When he worked on the section championships, he’d do everything from tickets to entries. He was so detail-oriented.”

After retiring, Dick Draz volunteered by working as a tournament director for water polo tournaments.

After retiring, Dick Draz volunteered by working as a tournament director for water polo tournaments.

More than that, Wilbur said, “Dick Draz was my second dad. He had such an incredible work ethic, impacting thousands of people.”

Bishop’s water polo coach Doug Peabody is another Crawford High School grad who was greatly influenced by Draz.

“He is the godfather of San Diego water polo,” said Peabody. “I’m going to miss him, I’ll miss him a ton. The whole community will miss him. He gave me his books which detailed his workouts and all 17 of his CIF plaques. He founded the Ironman Relays which are still going and he was inducted into both the water polo and swimming Hall of Fames.”

Draz was involved in everything aquatics, including being a longtime member of the San Diego County Coaching Legends, where he was inducted into the inaugural class in 1999.

He is survived by his wife of 68 years, Helen; sons John and Dan; and his daughter Katherine. Memorial services are being planned. *Reposted article from the UT by Steve Brand on September 14, 2023

[taxil]

USA 12.9.23: Redwood National State Park

Worum's geht: Wanderung, etwas Geschichte zu den Redwoods, Werbung für Rosinen, eine rüstige Volunteer

Nur 25 Minuten vom Campingplatz Abalone entfernt liegt der Zugang zu einem der Redwood State Parks, der auch zufällig unter den Google-Rezensionen empfohlen wurde. Ich habe mir eine kleine Challenge gegeben und eine Hin-und-Zurück-Wanderung mit steilem Gefälle ausgesucht. Genauer gesagt habe ich das mit dem Gefälle übersehen und natürlich falsch angefangen, nämlich auf dem Berg geparkt und mir den beschwerlichen Teil der Wanderung für den Rückweg aufgehoben. Gut, dass ich den ultimativen Energiespender dabei hatte, nämlich kalifornische Sultaninen (ergo ein Stück Kindheit, weshalb die Verpackung ein eigenes Poserfoto verdient).

Ich rechnete mit ungefähr 3,5h Stunden Trail+Pause, am Ende war es doch weniger, da ich nicht den ganzen Weg zum Highway hinuntergelaufen bin. Der dröhnte schon von weitem den Berg rauf, weshalb ich vorher schon umkehrte.

Start war am Lady Bird Johnson Grove Rundweg, benannt nach der Dame, die sich für den Erhalt der Redwood-Bäume stark gemacht hat. Im Video sieht man nicht nur mit meinem üblichen Gewackel die wunderbare Natur, sondern kriegt auch einen Kurzabriss zur Chronologie eines Artenschutzes.

Nach ca 25 Minuten bog ich auf den steilen und wenig belaufenen In & Out-Trail namens Berry Glen ab und von hier an, gestehe ich, wird die 3D-Erinnerung brüchig, denn ich hing nur vor dem Handybildschirm, so groß war die Begeisterung all das mit meiner tollen - gefühlt - 1,2 Pixel-Handykamera einzufangen. Der Lady Bird-Abschnitt gehört wohl noch zum second-growth-Wald, d.h. hier wurde einmal alles gerodet und es gibt quasi keinen natürlich gewachsenen Wald bis auf wenige Beispiele. Siehe abfotografierte Texttafel oben. Der Berry Glen-Abschnitt (den ich wie gesagt leider verkehrt herum betreten habe - man sollte ihn am besten von Elk Meadow im Tal starten, dort den Highway überqueren und dann den bewaldeten Hang hinaufklettern - oben gibt es zahlreiche ruhig gelegene Rastmöglichkeiten) ist hingegen Urwald, die Bäume wesentlich älter und der Platz zwischen ihnen aufgeräumt mit vorwiegend Farn und wenig anderen Baumarten bewachsen. Trotz Handydemenz weiß ich zumindest noch, dass ich in einem Baum stand und einen misslungenen 360-Grad-Sprungkick hätte machen können - es wäre locker Platz dafür gewesen. Ich sah einen umgestürzten Stamm quer über dem Wanderpfad, auf dem eine Tanne/Douglasie (?) wuchs und deren Wurzeln wie dicke Schlangen an diesem Stamm entlangwuchsen. Ich sah auch eine Bananenschnecke - und nein, das Foto ist nicht farblich nachbearbeitet. Eine ältere Dame, die mir begegnete, erzählte begeistert, dass sie nach "ripe bananas" sucht, also Bananenschnecken mit braunen Punkten, denn die seien selten geworden. Wir geraten ins Palavern, denn ich merke, dass sie viel über die Gegend weiß und sie antwortet mir bereitwillig und ausschweifend alle Fragen. Sie erzählt, dass die Redwoods deshalb so gut an der pazifischen Küste wachsen, da sie den trockenen Boden mögen aber auf den feuchten Nebel, der morgens bis in die Mittagsstunde die Hänge hinaufzieht, angewiesen sind. Die Redwood-Borke ist schwer brennbar, denn ihr Harz besteht im Gegensatz zu Fichten und Tannen aus überwiegend Wasser. "Combustion", sagt sie Dame lachend, "takes a long time". Während also in Waldbränden die meiste Flora den Flammen zum Opfer fällt, haben die roten Riesen eine gute Überlebenschance. Man sieht viele Redwoods mit Brandspuren: Sie sind von innen komplett ausgehöhlt, aber die lebensnotwendige Borke ist erhalten - der Baum lebt weiter. Die Frau möchte noch wissen, wo ich herkomme und rührt, in der Annahme ich sei wohl noch Studentin, die Werbetrommel für national park volunteering (Freiwilligenarbeit im Nationalpark). Aber sagt dann auch, dass sie bis ins Rentenalter in Kalifornien und Arizona als Volunteer tätig gewesen sei. Sie spricht mit einem Feuer in ihren Augen, den ich bei vielen Amerikanern, denen ich über den Weg gelaufen bin, bislang vermisse.

[newcountryradio]

New Country 26e jaargang  #1193 (752) van 4 september   2023  (wk 36) tussen 19.00 -21.00 op Smelne fm

Album van de week:    Zach Bryan – Zach Bryan -    

           Artiest                         Title                                                    

Zach Brown Band - Chicken Fried         maandartiest

Thomas Rhett – Life Changes  #1 2018

Jason Aldean - Let Your Boys Be Country

Jimmy Buffett - Margaritaville

Joe Stamm Band  - Dollar General Sign

Aaron Watson - Million Reasons (feat. Morgan Myles)

Dilan Carmichael – Drinkin’ Problem .

Joey + Rory - Good truck        * *trucksong of the week  

Zach Bryan – Overtime        album

Zach Bryan – Hey Driver (w/ War and Treaty )        cd

Alan Jackson – Chattahoochee      1992

Luke Combs – Love You Anyway        #1

Ruud Hermans – Give Me Wings * juweeltje

Hendrik Waringa /Early Bird – Adios Amigo.

Dick van Altena /Johan Jansen – He’ll Have to Go

Dolly Parton – Old Flames Can’t Hold a Candle To You       

Cody Johnson – – The Painter      favoriet    

Zach Brown Band – Toes

Brad Benge - Into God's Hands  *sofi

Josh Gray – Radio Stations

Brent Cobb - When Country Came Back to Town

John R. Miller – Conspiracies, Cults & UFO.

Tim Knol – Under The Gun .

Morgan Wallen – Last Night   #3 BB100 #1album

Luke Combs – Fast Car #2 BB 100

Oliver Anthony – Rich Men North Of Richmond #1 BB100

Zach Bryan / feat The Lumineers – Spotless      cdvdw.

Tim McGraw   - Fool Me Again  

Willie Nelson w/ Lee Ann Womack –   Mendocino County Line   

Chris Stapleton - Traveller

Jimmy Buffett w/ George Strait  - Sea Of Heartbreak

[geschichtenimperium]

#Adventskalender-Minutengeschichte – 23. Dezember: Zu dünn ist einfach zu dünn

#Adventskalender-Minutengeschichte – 23. Dezember: Zu dünn ist einfach zu dünn

Dieses Jahr würde der Baum problemlos in den Tannenbaumständer passen. Er hatte darauf geachtet, dass der Stamm nicht zu dick war. Die letzten Jahre hatte er immer stundenlang von der Rinde und dem Holz darunter Scheibe für Scheibe abgesägt. Letztes Jahr war es so schlimm gewesen, da hatte er am Stamm einmal rundherum eine Scheibe absägen müssen und selbst dann war es noch schwer gewesen, den…

[helendalibor]

#Adventskalender-Minutengeschichte – 23. Dezember: Zu dünn ist einfach zu dünn

#Adventskalender-Minutengeschichte – 23. Dezember: Zu dünn ist einfach zu dünn

Dieses Jahr würde der Baum problemlos in den Tannenbaumständer passen. Er hatte darauf geachtet, dass der Stamm nicht zu dick war. Die letzten Jahre hatte er immer stundenlang von der Rinde und dem Holz darunter Scheibe für Scheibe abgesägt. Letztes Jahr war es so schlimm gewesen, da hatte er am Stamm einmal rundherum eine Scheibe absägen müssen und selbst dann war es noch schwer gewesen, den…

[justblades]

𖣯 FOR THE : SLICK&SLOPPY! 500 EVENT

♡ CHARACTERS : mysta, sonny + alban x gender neutral! reader

SCENARIO : SWEATY SEX WITH THEM ! WC: 1.6k

WARNINGS : SMUT, MDNI. choking, sick sex (?)

MYSTA — it was all cramped, dark, and most of all— it was fucking hot. the three things you despised the most meshed together all in one, the redeeming factor of the situation was having your walls pounded by a rather bizarre male who claimed himself to be a detective. as you keep making erotic mewls from the way he dicks you down, he does the same by panting heavily and moaning groans as well.

"what detective would fuck a person just because of temptation!?" you struggle to voice out, brows knitted so tight while you keep your arms propped on the olden oak table creaking with the slightest movements. your body keeps on racking back and forth from the unfamilar's pounces, but shamefully, you liked it. so he wasn't the only one indulging in the impulses. "just . . just shut up for god's sake." his ink black gloved hands are wrapped around your lower belly, assisting you to be in sync with his rhythm.

earlier, your clothes were all skillfully stripped by the detective, in contrary to him whose clothes are still on, white straight slacks just unzipped to let his throbbing dick spring out. even though you're the one who's sweating like hell already, as if all the stickiness in the world clung onto your body, you could only feel bad for the other party. "hey, being fully clothed isn't gonna do you any good." you suggest and ponder if he's gonna pick up what you're trying to say. 

"alright, unbutton my clothes then." it was surprisingly easy to convince him to remove his garb too and he decides to flip you over, making you face him now as you're still leaning on the ligneous desk table. your eyes only widen in exchange, "remove my clothes." his gaze narrows into your eyes and upon locking a lustened glance with his aquamarine hues, you feel as if you were invited to a trance you've never been to before. "hello? are you still there?"

his light yet raspy voice snaps you out of your thoughts. his tone sounded like if it was meant to mock you but you inched forward to his body nonetheless. sitting up straight from the table as he stands across from you, you reach your hands forward and took your time to unbutton his top. "so? name?" you query to the grizzle haired. "mysta." surprisingly short of an answer, his thick lashes batting at the sight of you helping him remove his button down. upon stripping himself free of his uniform, you saw his torso glistening with sweat from the dim lightings of the surroundings.

you were admiring his chiseled build and the broad plane of his chest when suddenly, he pushes you on the tabletop once again and shoves his dick back in. "—and that's all you're ever gonna get." he adds to his last response, meanwhile more squelching noises continue to reverberate inside the secluded vicinity. with faint vision from how mysta has been doing you, beads of his sweat from the forehead roll down on doplets, landing on your bare skin. even if it was such a blurry view, you could admire how his sharp features were accentuated from his dampened hair, dangling in directions along with his actions.

SONNY — "take care of me, yeah?" the blond poorly says, his voice was melodically soft yet sounding very fatigued at the same time. a small pack of ice rests on top of his forehead, his eyes closely shut to take a well deserved rest. you intertwine your hand with his as you mumbled with a low, "of course." he beams you a small smile in return, appreciative of the sweet gesture.

you turn away from the sick officer to grab something from your back, when all of a sudden he parts his lips open again. "but . . i kinda miss us having sex." whipping your head back to the direction where sonny was laying, you peered into his soul tht he could feel the pressure of your strong glare of daggers. "i-i'm sorry! i shouldn't have said that." the male stammers and purses his lips into a thin line in response, while you seated there, shocked.

but perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to let him have it in his way right? you thought to yourself until you finally had the resolve to do it anyways; proceeding to carefully position yourself on top of him. sonny lets out a gasp as he feels a weight sinking down on his muscular body but his hands immediately find their ways curling on your waist, flashing you a toothy grin right after with a heavy-lidded, alluring gaze. his azure hues ablaze of lust and tiredness pierce into yours, some of the lightest streaks of his hair framing his pretty face shape.

sonny looked like someone in dire need of help, and that was what you're doing. you slowly stroke his erection underneath the fluffy sheets encompassing his lanky figure, earning ragged breathings from the blond beneath your touch. "s. . slowly." you look back at him to see him sweating rivulets of liquids already from his forehead. you nod and slowed your pace of heating the moment up in your own ways such as grinding your lower region against his crotch, palming through his thin white shirt in search of his sensitive hard nipples. slowly creeping up to his face, you plant an open mouthed kiss right on the mole of his neck, to which the male couldn't resist but bite down on yours as well.

"sonny!" you whimper once you feel your skin bare naked by sonny's swift movements, capable of stripping you even though he was at a bad shape. "i'm gonna . . put it in now . ." he slowly utters with heavy breathing and when he finally thrusts it in your hole, you squirm feeling your walls mold around his shape and girth. he bucks his hips upwards to ram into your walls and pull out the next second, to which his slit was creaming already with his juices making lewd noises. the sounds of skin slapping and viscous liquids being shoved back into your hole repetitively echo inside his room, you were unable to stifle your moans.

as you rest your head on his neck, you could feel his body's boiling temperature and forgot for a quick moment. "wait, sonny. let me do it for you, you're sick, remember?" you sit up straight once you straddle his thighs, rubbing his tip againsy your fluttering entrance. he hums in approval and you could swear you were starting to sweat too. atleast not as much as the male under you, but still, the moment you put it in was the moment the two of you bathed in sticky sweat altogether having sex in spite sonny's sickness.

ALBAN — he lifts your leg up with his dominant hand, the free one wrapped around your neck like a pretty choker adorning the body part. his feline like eyes tainted of two colors flicker to your body, fangs beaming as he hisses on you. "you know why i'm doing this, right? i'm doing this to get answers."

you chortle at the thief in front who's doing all kinds of stuff to pleasure you, concealing his true intentions with sham excuses such as the latter. "yeah, the answer is inside me so hurry up and go." with a conceited smug grin, he finally shoves himself, a heavy breath heaved once he feels you clamp around his dick like it was its first meal.

"fuck, hurry up and spill it!" the male was wearig his full gear hence why the discomfort was making his body feel restrained, more sweat forms underneath the layers of protective clothing slowly dripping down on his skin. the constant nervousness of someone about to walk upon you two having an intercourse when he's on his duty irks him a shit ton; but what can he do when he's literally in front of you? "no can do." you respond, purposely getting on his nerves.

alban scoffs in exchange, brows furrowed as he continuously rams into your hole. you attempt to do your best at stifling your mewls of pleasure, but you weren't able to keep it up at all when he's doing everything to milk you dry of crucial information. he curses mentally at himself, why did his enemy have to be so sexually appealing he couldn't keep his hands off of you. "god damn it, it's so fucking hot in here." he says, letting go of your leg to wipe the cluster of sweat forming on his skin.

due to the frustration; both in his duties and sexual feelings, he unintentionally thrusts in deeper and faster than ever, stirring the carnal desire searing in your body with his rock hard cock. your moans become ragged in tune, getting cut off everytime he enters you. "oh wow! you're feeling good! now tell me, where is it?" the mocha haired exclaims, his hold on your neck tightening. although this was your first experiencing something like this, if it was alban, you're surely enjoying it.

"i won't tell until you cum though." with the corners of your lips tugged upwards, you grab alban by his arms and turn him over, making you sit on top of him with his dick still buried in between your sticky, tightened walls. while you continue to pounce on him up and down, you comb through his sweat drenched locks with your fingers. "you're cute when your hair is soft and fluffy but you're so sexy when you're sweaty." you poke fun at the male and he grits his teeth as a reaction. however, seeing him so submissive and perspiring underneath your body was a sight to behold, one that you should forever remember.

[flying-nightwing]

Dark Fox (3/7)

Heyyyy people. I’m finally back with part 3 for y’all. A bit of action, some more mystery ;) ;) Anyway, enjoy! And if you do like it, please don’t hesitate to comment your thoughts and reactions. It’s really encouraging to see support!

Previous - Next 

Pairing: Jason Todd x League!reader

Word count: 4307

Warnings: same as announced in part 1

"We got him, boss"

Jason sighed, knowing he'd have to kill his way out of this one. That meant he'd use his killing allowed wildcard for the rest of the mission and he wasn't particularly thrilled about it. He would already get the lecture about exposing they were on the case, and Batman wouldn't let him hear the end of it. 

"Guys, guys" He tried to buy himself some time to come up with an execution plan. "We're all friends here, aren't we?"

"Shut up" One more gun was pointed at him, this time in his face. 

"Come on man, I'm just a guy who--"

The lights went off. Jason didn't know how, because he hadn't been the one to cut the power, but he certainly didn't waste the small window of opportunity to  get out of the shooting line and disarm the man in front of him. He shot him, then the man behind him who had held him at gunpoint by the neck. He could hear running and screaming, orders being barked and the platoon around him moving. He turned around, ready to shoot whoever was there, but he found… Nothing. He adjusted his night vision lenses and only saw three more bodies around. 

Each ones with a black arrow stuck in their chest. 

Your feet were light when you landed behind him, like a shadow forming out of the darkness in the red emergency light glow. But he had heard you, his hearing was fine enough to detect the subtlest movement. From behind you could see the reflection of his red helmet, a new one that wasn't cracked. He turned slowly to come face to face with you. 

"You couldn't stay away for too long, could you?" 

You gave your answer by shooting an arrow at the provenance of yet another infrared line pointed at him, not looking away the whole time. But you knew you had hit your target, because you heard a body fall down the rail and onto the first floor. 

"We have three squads like this one headed this way" You informed him. "And I'd rather not waste any more arrows"

“Then let’s blow this popsicle stand”

“This way”

You ran through the first doorway to your left, knowing you would have an escape route there. You had learned the blueprint by heart, so you went toward where there were the most exit options. But soon enough, the motion sensor alerts your had configured on your watch vibrated, letting you know the squads were closing in. You stopped at the junction of three hallways, evaluating the situation. Jason practically bumped into you, cursing under his breath.

“Why are you stopping here?” He asked, looking in between the three corridors while you glanced up for a second. Bingo.

“They’re too close, it’ll be easier to get out here” 

“Easier--” He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What the fuck-”

He shut up at the glare you sent him, before going back to your plan. You loaded an explosive in your next arrow and shot the door, knowing it would buy you a few minutes by burning the digital pad. You then stepped in front of Jason and loaded a gas one and waited for the footsteps to arrive, bow drawn and aim locked.

“Hold your fire ready” You instructed, backing up so your back almost touched him. Your eyes never left your target, and soon enough, shadows began to grow in the red lights. His gun aimed over your shoulder. “And activate your smoke vision. When they go blind, cover me”

“You’re insane”

You didn’t have to respond in any other way than an eye roll when the squad rounded the corner. You shot in the crowd, the man fell down and a thick gas was released. You shot the same type of arrow on the other open hallway as you began to hear gunshots on the door you had shut down earlier. Shouts and cough echoed, then a rush to put on gas mask and find a moving target in the smoke.

Jason began shooting, angling his gun with precision. You did not see what he was shooting, since you didn’t have smoke goggles on. Instead, you aimed your next arrow at the glass ceiling and shot. 

“Fuck!” Jason yelled. 

“Stop whining” You bit back as he kept shooting around you. You tied the hook on your belt to an arrow and nocked it, aiming for the wooden structure above you. You shot right through it, then passed the wire through Jason’s belt to clip it on yours. You gave the line a tug with your bow, and it began pulling you up. You wrapped your legs around Jason and under his arms, bringing him up with you. He let out a yelp of surprise, followed by a curse, but you manage to finesse your exit before the smoke cleared. 

He grabbed the ledge of the wood a second after you did, and you pulled yourself up on the beam. You ran across it, away from the bullets and jumped a few buildings away, far enough so they couldn’t see you anymore. You made sure nobody had followed you before removing your mask. Jason did the same, hair sticking everywhere. The wind from the rooftop didn’t make it any better, but he didn’t seem to care. He only looked at you, confused as to what on Earth you could possibly be doing in Gotham alone, and as to how you found him just at the right moment, and probably as to what the hell had just went down. That had been your most dramatic exit so far. But it was the least important question of his that needed answering.

“Why are you here?” He asked, figuring out you wouldn’t speak first. You never spoke first, and that was one of the mysteries about you he had never been able to figure out.

“I need your help”

His eyes widened at your confession. You reached in your jacket and handed him the file, which he silently skimmed through, brows furrowed in concentration. Then, his features morphed into realization. You had been there at the same time as him because you had been sent on the same case he was working on. He should have expecting it, given your connection to the matter, but somehow it had never crossed his mind that you could show up. The only coincidence in this was that he had been investigating this project at the same time and place as you.

“Well, as it turns out” He began, handing you back the file. “I’m working on the same case, and my team could use your help too”

You raised an eyebrow.

“They’re not my team per say” He clarified. “We’re just coming together for the sole purpose of bringing this bio-weapon down”

“How well do you know them?” You asked carefully. “And they you?”

“More than I would care to admit” He sighed. “... Everybody there is keeping secrets. Yours will be fine”

You took a moment to think his offer through. You didn’t trust that said team, but at the same time, you needed them. After what went down tonight, there was no way you could handle it alone, or even only with Jason. And if there was one person that would be willing to cover for you, it was him. It was your opportunity to go through with your plan. You looked up again and gave him a firm nod. 

He combed his hair with his hand and took a deep breath. “They seemed to have found a way to stabilize the weapon and make it work” He said, looking at the city lights on the horizon. It was a surprisingly clear night for Gotham. “They worked quicker than we had anticipated”

You had expected that turnout, since William stamm was the scientist recruited to work on the project. A brilliant mind, but his insanity cost him a nobel prize or two. He would always create monstrosities that impressed, but most of all scared people. No wonder he had been the one to work for Luthor. 

“We should head back and inform the team of the new development…” He trailed off, sending you a glance. “All of them”

“Then let’s go”

---

“Woah what the fuck”

You easily caught mid-air the shuriken thrown your way, barely blinking at the action and the rather loud exclamation. The two men in front of you were on the defensive, even after Jason made a show of sighing and throwing his arms up in annoyance. Their eyes were on you, and you held the staring contest.

“Can everybody please calm the fuck down?” Jason came to stand in the way. “Tim, put that down, jesus”

Tim reluctantly put down his shurikens. “Who’s that?”

“And why is she wearing the league suit?” The other man said, still eyeing you like you’d attack them at any second. You recognized this one, Dick Grayson. 

“It’s help” He replied vaguely. “And it’s--”

“Because I’m from the league” You replied for yourself, taking a step forward. You pushed the shuriken back on the table toward them. “But I’m not after any of you”

“Well that’s good to know” Tim snorted before glancing at Jason. “You still did blow our cover, Jaybird”

“Anyone she can tell either already knows or don’t give a shit about your stupid alter egos” Jason rolled his eyes once more. 

“Still!” 

“I called her here to help, okay?” He lied smoothly. You didn’t react, but you were glad he did cover for you. “Would you just trust me one second?”

“That would be easier if you had asked before bringing a stranger here” 

It wasn’t easy to surprise you, but the fourth person joining the conversation did. You didn’t hear him come at all, and even now that you were aware of his presence, you could barely hear his footsteps. You turned your head to the side to take a look at him; he was tall and built for combat, like everyone else in the room. But his presence occupied a lot more space, and you deducted he was the leader of this little team. 

After all, you doubted Bruce Wayne would do well as second. 

“That stranger is the reason Red Hood got out without revealing you all were involved, and with a peek at their tech” Jason argued. “Which is now very much functional and probably ready to go”

“What?” Dick rejoined the conversation. “That’s not possible”

“It is” You replied. “Stamm is known to work fast and relentlessly until he succeeds. And as your surely know it, he’s got an impressive record of building up bioengineering monsters without a care on how it’s used. I don’t have trouble believing he worked ahead of schedule”

All eyes were on you now. 

“You know him?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“I know of him” You nodded slightly, crossing your arms in front of you. “He wasn’t there at the lab earlier, which means he’s either already long gone, or under Luthor’s protection. He won’t risk him exposing a failsafe, that is most certain”

“How much do you know about this bio weapon?” He asked, and you could not read the intent of his question.

“Close to nothing” You admitted. “I suppose you’re not that much more ahead either”

Jason snorted, while Bruce’s eyes narrowed. Then, he relaxed.

“Well, you did do us a solid by bailing out Jason” He said, a half smile appearing on his face. “I’d be glad to have you and your skills with us on this one”

Tim choked on his coffee and Dick’s eyes went wide. You ignored their reactions, not looking away from Bruce. He offered you his hand, and after a quick glance down, you took it and shook it. There was nothing friendly about the way you felt his muscles tense, it rather was a warning. A warning that although he agreed to work with you, he did not trust you and would take you down if necessary. The message was loud and clear. 

“I am aware of the way of the League, so I must ask” He began when your hand dropped to your side again. “Have you found anywhere to stay in Gotham yet?”

“This city has no shortage of empty warehouses” You answered indirectly, and he hummed. You still weren’t sure of his intent, and you would rather not him find out of some of your lairs. 

“Well, there are also no shortage of empty rooms here” He countered, and it was your turn to narrow your eyes. “You’d be welcome to stay here. It would facilitate relaying information, and since you already know where we operate…”

“Bruce” Dick warned. 

“What do you say?”

You looked at Jason beside you. You didn’t trust Bruce, mostly because of his obvious wariness towards you. He was probably offering that to keep an eye on you, or to have better control over you. But Jason gave you an affirmative nod, and him, you trusted. So you turned your attention back to Bruce and agreed to his proposition. 

“Thank you” 

“We can take care of your things tomorrow, if you have any more than what you have one” He pointed out, knowing you didn’t have any valuable left behind. And he was right. “In the meanwhile, there are some clothes here you can change into. They should fit”

“Come on, you can’t let her wear Steph’s clothes?” Tim whined.

“Shut up Tim” Jason groaned, throwing his head back. “She doesn’t even know it’s still there”

“You shut up--”

“Alright!” He sighed, knowing Tim would never let it go. “We’ll go grab the stuff now, we’ll talk about the plan tomorrow”

“You’ll show her an empty room when you come back?” Bruce asked Jason, and the younger man nodded. “See you tomorrow, then”

“Yeah whatever” 

-----

“That’s it” 

You halted your steps and turned to face Jason, who was panting and affirmatively mad. Heavy snow was resting on his shoulders and head, even on his long eyelashes. His cheeks were red from the cold, making the blue of his eyes pop out. He was glaring at you, but that wasn’t new. 

“You’re doing this on purpose. There is no point in that but to piss me the fuck out” He spat. “I bet you’re liking this uh?”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Are you done?” You asked, your neutral expression ever present on your face. “Nightfall comes soon, and we still have some distance to go”

WInter had come, and you thought it was time to leave the cabin for a while to train in less than ideal conditions. You had decided to trek up the mountain to set camp on higher grounds, where the snow and wind would be a good environment to build up endurance to the elements. But as usual, Jason disagreed. 

He threw his backpack on the ground, still panting. “No, I’m not walking another step. Let’s set camp here”

“This blizzard is coming down strong, and by morning there will be at least a meter of snow more” You informed him. “So we’d be buried alive. So if you want to stop here, be my guest”

You gave him a quick smile and resumed your ascension. You heard him curse under his breath, put his backpack on again and hurry after you. He did not comment for the rest of the journey, not even when you had to climb the iced wall of rocks or take an almost inhumane leap across a fissure on the ground. He could barely stand when you finally reached the cave on the non-exposed side of the mountain, his legs aching and his hands bloody under his gloves. You let him sit down as you prepared the fire and skinned one of the rabbits you had hunted for the trip, knowing he would have to rest for the next part of the training. You remembered too well doing the same thing, biting back your pain as not to show it.

You gave him his food as well as his personal space for a while, before you went to him again. You gestured for him to follow you, and with a groan, he stood up and limped after you. It became warmer and warmer the further you went, and down a small slope laid a round pool of steaming blue water, sculpted in the rocks by time and hydro pressure. 

“Is this a hot spring?” Jason muttered in almost awe and you nodded.

“It’ll be good for your muscles to rest” You replied. “It’ll also warm you. Next time, don’t forget your gloves”

“It would be easier if I had some” He snarked back with a scoff, but you had already walked away. 

You went back to the fire and set a pot of tea, knowing you’d take it alone that night. It was strange, not to have him around. For months you had gotten used to his presence, usually silent but there nevertheless. You liked to think as tea time as neutral ground, where whatever happened during training was put aside for a quarter of hour to decompress in peace. It made you realized you might have felt bad for the blisters on his palms and the almost frost bites he had gotten. But you were glad to see his progress with how he handled it, that being with a minimum of curses and complaining. A few weeks ago only he would have surely taken your head off for that. Granted, this little trip was far from over and there was still time for him to do so, but the worst was behind you.

You went out and cleaned the pot with snow, and put it in a corner with the rest of your stuff. You added some wood to the fire to keep it going and took off your jacket, hood and boots to have them dry nearby. You did the same with your pants and other layers, until all was left was your thermal protection. You went straight in the direction of the hot spring and put your remaining clothes on a rock, before you walked in the water.

Jason’s eyes went wide.

“What are you doing?”

You didn’t answer straight away, you only tilted your head slightly to the side. Was he…  Uncomfortable? Unsettled? Nervous, even?

“Enjoying the hot spring” 

“I-- I’m already here” He argued, but he didn’t seem very confident in it. “Naked. And so are you” 

“... And?” You raised an eyebrow, relaxing in the hot water. He went to say something else, but he closed his mouth and sank a bit more in the water. You enjoyed the sound of the cave in silence, the echo of the water reflecting on the rock walls, the creaking and groaning of the ice and snow outside, not oblivious to Jason’s wary eyes on you. It was like he was expecting you to pull a sword out of thin air and attack him. 

“It’s just I’ve never seen you wear any less than three layers of clothing, that’s all” He grumbled under his breath. “It’s weird. You seem smaller”

It was your turn to widen your eyes, slowly. 

“Smaller?” You repeated. He mumbled a whatever, and it was the end of this conversation. Jason seemed to untense gradually in his corner, getting to the idea of you there as well. 

You could see the scars and bruises on his upper body. The gash in his shoulder from your sword had healed nicely, leaving a lightly scabbed red mark. There were a few silver marks around as well, and faded bruises on his chest from various impacts. He was tough, he would have had the potential to get in the league if it hadn’t been for his tendency to disobey any and every order given to him. But he had a huge potential nevertheless, and the more you worked with him, the more you could see what Talia saw in him. 

“I hate the cold” You admitted after taking a deep breath. His eyes snapped up to you in confusion, while yours trailed away on the rocks around you. “I hate the way it seeps through everything. It makes my bones ache”

“A weakness, I’ll be damned” He whistled lowly. “Then why are you doing this, if you hate it so much?”

You met his eyes. “Once you let your limits dictate the path you take, you’ve taken the first step to losing any sense of control on yourself” 

“Is this another lesson on self control?” He tested. 

“No” You shook your head. “I just wanted to let you know I’m not doing this to torture you, but because I know you’ll gain valuable skills from training in extreme conditions, as I did before you”

-----

Nobody was around when you came back from the warehouse. All the lights were turned off, and all that could be heard was the creaking of the wood foundations of the manor. You followed Jason down the hallway and into an almost empty room, beside from the furniture. He invited you to walk in first, and gently closed the door behind him. He turned on the light and waited by the door.

“So, where’s the camera?” You asked, looking around for it. Your eyes set on Jason, who had an eyebrow raised. “Keep your enemies closer, right?”

“There’s no camera in bedrooms” He replied with a small smile. “That’s rule number one. But if you gotta know, there’s one right outside your door that will monitor your every in and out. You can’t escape this one, but you’re welcome to try anyway”

You snorted.

“He’ll be watching you closely for the next days” He hummed. “He’ll be weird about it and not subtle at all. I guess you’re aware of his relation to the league”

“Hard not to” You said, throwing your bag on the floor. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to stay here? I’m not sure your brothers are very happy about it either”

“And you care since when?” He mused.

“I don’t” You took a step toward him, looking at him pointedly. “Just don’t blame me for defending myself if they jump me” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be on the sidelines filming it” 

You rolled your eyes, but the hint of a playful smile stretched on your lips. However, it disappeared when you remembered the purpose of you being there in the first place. Jason noticed the shadow passing on your face, and leaned on the door behind him. He waited for you to speak, even when you made your way to the window, your back to him.

“Confrontation will be unavoidable” You sighed, looking outside into the night. “What if I give in?”

“You won’t” 

He said it with such certainty it made you turn your head to glance at him. How could he be so sure?

“I’ve never met anyone with as much self control as you” He explained like he had read the question on your face. “It’s fucking annoying. But you won’t be the one who flinch first, trust me. You’re too stubborn for that”

“Thanks, I guess” You mumbled, facing the window again. “But I don’t know how I will react when it goes down. My mother warned me…”

“When you were eight” He pointed out. “You’ve trained your body and your mind for this moment for years. I wouldn’t be so quick to discredit your ability to handle this with a certain detachment”

“Detachment?”

“Mmmm” He hummed, sporting that expression of his he knew had always gotten on your nerves as he stalked toward you. “You’re pretty stone cold” 

“I will beat your ass” You stood your ground, but he only grinned. Maybe because it came out much weaker than you had intended to.

“See? You’re proving my point right now” He stopped right on front of you. “Stone. Cold”

You held his stare, his vibrant blue eyes as expressive as always. He was poking at you, poking at your reaction to him. You were always so composed around anyone else, but he had sneaked inside your walls a long time ago. You didn’t have to keep your guards up around him, but that would be a problem now. You couldn’t let it come in between you and your goal again, not after last time. You’d have to be careful not to let your emotions and feeling for him in again. 

You took a step back, and he hid the hurt well on his face. After all, you did come back to him, and he probably thought it meant you had changed your mind. But while you welcomed his presence at your side on the field, you wouldn’t let it go further. And he’d have to understand that.

You’d have to get it on your head as well, it seemed.

“Thank you, Jason. For helping me” You muttered. 

“You’ve done the same for me” He replied with fondness, despite his disappointment. “Goodnight”

You nodded, watching him walk back to the door. Halfway through the threshold, however, you called to him.

“Wait”

He paused in the door frame, looking back at you.

“Will you stay in the mansion too?”

His eyebrows raised in surprise for a second as your words registered, but a small smile appeared on his lips as he realized what you were asking. You didn’t trust his family, and with him there, you’d have an excuse not to interact directly with them. He wasn’t supposed to stay, but your unspoken request made him think about it again. He wouldn’t oppose to spending more time with you, and frankly, he missed your daily training.

“Three doors down to your right” He said, before gently closing the door behind you.

[batmanonthecover]

Detective Comics #288 - February 1961

Cover Artist: Sheldon Moldoff

THE MENACE OF THE MULTIPLE CREATURE

Script:  Bill Finger

Art:  Sheldon Moldoff (Pencils), Charles Paris (Inks)

Characters:  Batman [Bruce Wayne]; Robin [Dick Grayson]; The Multi-creature (intro, villain); Stokes (intro, villain); Stamm; Mary Todd

Synopsis: When lightning hits a pool of chemical waste, a strange creature is created which constantly changes shape and size.

Batman story #892

[cafeleningrad]

bengalaas a réagi à votre billet : What sacrifices do I make that I read the...

I occasionally wonder why you willingly subject yourself to such suffering :D

So do I, so do I.

In short I do a friend of mine favours. We once got in a huge fight when I got annoyed she called her entertainement movies “good”, and I unsensitively went overboard to tell her that they’re objectively not “good”, how “good quality in media” can actualy be disected, and she instead should use adjectives like “entertaining”. To be honest, I was really a dick towards the stories she liked, I had no right to tear down stories she liked so much.  So I overthrought my attitude, decided to approach media in a calmer manner, and look more for the positive aspects. Or at least shut up the moment they some up (whereas internally thinking that “quotable” isn’t a criteria for cinematic quality for “Mean Girls”, otherwise “The Room” would rank way higher). Also, we actually like talkig about stories or movies we both like. 

It was also the time my friend borrowed me her copy of ACOTAR a) todiscuss another story togther b) “because it’s so fantastic - as you already bravely and stoically know my rant blogging, I couldn’t find anything positive to say about. Even the contrary. It was a mixture of a bad writing quality reaching depths in character-, world- and climax building, and female written conservatice sexism even my passionately loathed Peter Stamm didn’t fall into, and everything wrong about contemporary romance YA in first place.. And still my friend loves them for reasons beyond my comprehension. I try, but if something leaves me as unimpressed and groaning like having to watch Transformers movies with my brothers... Every rec she gives me because she wants to discuss is in the romance!YA or teen-romcom-genre - overall I think these genres themselves have a quality problem. So I would need to look within the pool of overall writing quality (or lack thereof) of something that is not totally clichéed (I see why the Soc duology was such a success- in comparison to other YAs it was competently written though over all not a too deep work). Still I don’t see how a mediocre work in an already plagued genre should resonate to me.

It leaves me a bit exhausted when a seamingly brain-off fun still leaves me groaning and nagging at the screen or pages because god dan it, why is everyone so stupid?

[brookstonalmanac]

Birthdays 12.16

Beer Birthdays

Joseph Fallert (1842)

Troy Paski (1961)

Bryan Selders (1974)

Nicole Erny (1983)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Ludwig van Beethoven; German composer (1770)

Philip K. Dick; writer (1928)

Bill Hicks; comedian (1961)

Wassily Kandinsky; French artist (1866)

Miranda Otto; Australian actor (1967)

Famous Birthdays

Bruce Ames; biochemist (1928)

Jane Austen; English writer (1775)

Shane Black; actor (1961)

Quentin Blake; artist, illustrator (1932)

Steven Bocho; television producer (1943)

Benjamin Bratt; actor (1963)

Catherine of Aragon; consort of Henry VIII (1485)

Arthur C. Clarke; English scientist, writer (1917)

Barbe-Nicole Clicquot; champagne-maker (1777)

Noel Coward; English writer (1899)

Ben Cross; actor (1947)

Robben Ford; rock, blues guitarist (1951)

Billy Gibbons; rock musician (1949)

Jim Glaser; country singer (1937)

Piet Hein; Danish inventor (1905)

Anthony Hicks; rock singer, guitarist (1943)

Murray Kempton; journalist (1917)

Zoltan Kodaly; composer (1882)

Leopold I; Belgian king (1790)

Danielle Lloyd; English model (1983)

Margaret Mead; anthropologist (1901)

William "Refrigerator" Perry; Chicago Bears DL (1962)

V.S. Pritchett; English writer (1900)

Sam Robards; actor (1961)

George Santayana; Spanish philosopher (1863)

John Selden; English jurist (1584)

Shane; porn actor (1969)

JoAnn Stamm; Mom (1937)

Lesley Stahl; journalist (1941)

Liv Ullman; Norwegian actor (1939)

[aad1952]

371. 'Over de Dijk' van Cultuurstek Den Hoorn

371. ‘Over de Dijk’ van Cultuurstek Den Hoorn

“Beste Aad, zou jij mee willen doen met het Culturele festival Over de Dijk”. Zo komt de vraag bij mij binnen. Ik heb juist meegedaan aan Kom ’s Hoorn, van CultuurStek Den Hoorn. Ik ben altijd wel in om aan zulk soort activiteiten mee te doen. Maar waar moet het over gaan? “Zou je een verhaal kunnen vertellen over Den Hoorn en dan specifiek over de Dijkshoornseweg.” Ik moet er even over nadenken.…

[undsowiesogenau]

In Kassel fand ein Konzert statt, das ich unbedingt sehen wollte. Es spielte das Sun Ra Arkestra. Dabei handelt es sich um eine Band, die Free Jazz spielt, so denke ich jedenfalls, mir fehlt da das Fachwissen. Mich interessiert mehr die Geschichte drumherum. Das Arkestra wurde in den Fünfzigern von einem schwarzen Musiker gegründet, der sich nach dem Sonnengott Sun Ra nannte und behauptete, er stamme vom Planeten Saturn. Dazu trug er Kopfschmuck wie aus dem Pergamon-Museum geklaut, goldene Masken mit langen Schnäbeln dran, Nemes-Kopftücher mit Uräusschlangen, und bodenlange Umhänge in Galaxiefarben. So war es offenbar Mode auf dem Saturn. Die Musik klang ähnlich.

Sun Ra ist längst tot; aber das Arkestra gibt es noch, und einer, der von Anfang an dabei ist, also wirklich seit mehr als sechzig Jahren, leitet es: Marshall Allen, er wird in ein paar Tagen 95. Der Greis spielt unerschütterlich seine Instrumente, zum Beispiel Altsaxophon und Blaswandler; letzteres pfeift wie die Bordelektronik in einem abstürzenden Raumschiff, oder so ähnlich.

Ich fand mich also abends im Kasseler »Theaterstübchen« ein. Ein kleiner Keller, schummriges Licht fiel auf anscheinend typische Sun-Ra-Fans, Männer jenseits der Fünfzig. Sie hatten liebe Gesichter, wie bei Jazzfans so üblich. Auf der Bühne stand mindestens ein Dutzend Notenpulte, darauf Blätter mit handschriftlich notierten Noten. Ich hatte Zeit, sie mir anzusehen, denn die Musiker verspäteten sich. Die Hälfte von ihnen hatte sich verfahren.

Dann kamen sie aber. Zwölf oder vierzehn Männer und eine Frau in paillettenbesetzten Umhängen, kirschrot, azurblau, gülden, auf dem Kopf kleinere oder größere Mützchen, einer trug eine Art Mitra mit Bommel, ein anderer spaghettidünne Rastas unter einer silbrigen Filigrankappe. Der Tenorsaxophonist hatte eine dicke Mappe dabei, die er zu seinen Füßen verstaute, um im Laufe des Abends immer wieder darin zu blättern – es befand sich alles mögliche darin, Bilder, Zeitungsausschnitte –, um hin und wieder ein Notenblatt herauszuziehen. Ich konnte das genau sehen, denn ich saß etwa einen Meter entfernt.

Mit Einsetzen der Musik geschah etwas Unvorhergesehenes: Ich verstand etwas. Während die instrumentalen Stücke mir zuvor wie eine Mondlandschaft vorgekommen waren, die ich zwar mit Interesse durchschritt, aber nicht deuten konnte, war es nun so, als lernte ich sie langsam kennen, einen tiefen von einem flachen Krater zu unterscheiden, eine Reihe von sehr kleinen, sehr spitzen Bergen kurios zu finden, einen Pfad zwischen Steinbrocken zu entdecken. Das lag wahrscheinlich daran, dass ich die Musiker beim Spielen sah. Sie stimmten viel mit Blicken und Handzeichen ab, und schon daran, wer wen erwartungsvoll ansah, konnte man etwas erkennen über die Richtung, die das Stück gleich nehmen würde. Zu besonders gelungenen Soli gratulierten die Musiker einander mit Lachen, Tanzen, Augen nach innen drehen; einmal machte aber auch der Tenorsaxophonist die Halsabschneider-Geste in Richtung des Hornisten, als der mit seinem allzu gefälligen Melodie-Solo gar nicht mehr aufhören wollte.

Später zogen einige der Musiker tutend, blasend, flötend durch die Stuhlreihen im Keller. Dicht neben mir kam der Posaunist zu stehen. Der Trichter seines Instruments zielte direkt auf mein Ohr. Da hinein posaunte der Mann seine saturnischen Stakkati. Mir gefiel’s. Doch gerade als ich ein Foto in das schwarze Loch des Trichters hinein machen wollte, setzte sich der Zug der Musikanten wieder in Bewegung, und der Posaunist wirbelte an mir vorbei. Mein Foto zeigt seinen glitzernden Umhang im Flug, eine Milchstraße aus Pailletten.