#ch new holland

[k1ng0k]

New Holland (19th cen. Australia)

1. New Holland (Australia) was most alone and quiet in his early stages. He’d often hang around and explore wildlife.

2. France would often try to keep Holland’s hair long and try to make him look my lady-like.

3. The first time Holland cut their hair to resemble a man, spark something in them and made them realise they preferred to look and be that way.

4. Holland would get into yelling matches with England often.

[literalcatpod]

57. Making an Anime Cat Who Rescues Kittens in Break!!

@break-rpg is a new fantasy RPG inspired by anime and manga from Grey Wizard! They also were kind enough to make a cat creation guide for us, so you can follow along at home with your own cat!

Follow the show online: https://badgertrove.com/literalcatpod/

Follow Joel Holland: https://jholland.start.page/

Follow Avalon: https://twitter.com/AvalonAlchemist

We’ve got a Patreon now! https://www.patreon.com/BadgerTrove

Download the character sheets: https://bit.ly/literalcatpod

Join our Discord! https://badgertrove.com/discord/

Cover art, midroll theme, and Intro/Outro music made by Joel Holland

Thanks for listening! We’ll Cat-ch you later!

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Rohkte

(based on @mrtobenamedlater's character!)

Colonel Holland's office was spartan, typical of military decor but with the personal touch of a few antique war relics displayed in a glass cabinet—relics from centuries past, evoking a time of earlier wars and forgotten battles. The soft hum of the air conditioner was a faint backdrop to the tension that lay like a thick veil in the room. John stood at ease across from Colonel Holland's desk, his armor almost absorbing the dim light of the late afternoon.

"Major," Holland began, his voice gruff, laced with the fatigue of endless war, "we have a unique situation. A young man named Rohkte is in our custody."

John raised an eyebrow beneath his helmet. The name 'Rohkte' had all the trappings of the Sangheili; it was not human. He braced himself, expecting a briefing on a new kind of Elite operative or spy. "An Elite, sir? Raised to infiltrate, perhaps?"

Holland shook his head, shuffling the papers on his desk before locking eyes with John. "Not exactly, Major. He’s human. But, as you rightly guessed from the name, there’s more to it. Raised by the Sangheili, from what we gather."

John’s posture stiffened, surprise registering even through his stoic façade. "A human, sir? Raised by them?" The idea was almost inconceivable—two species, enemies born of a brutal war, yet here was a bridge none had anticipated.

"Yes," Holland continued, leaning back in his chair. "Apparently, he was taken as a child. Instead of killing him, a Sangheili family raised him as one of their own. He's been with them until recently recovered during a covert operation."

"How does he... function, sir? I mean, his loyalties, his mindset?" John queried, trying to wrap his mind around the complexities such an upbringing entailed.

"That's what we need to find out, Major. His interrogation is crucial. We need to assess any intelligence he can provide about the Sangheili, and more importantly, we need to understand his allegiances." Holland’s eyes narrowed slightly. "He claims to have information that could prevent further bloodshed. This could be a massive advantage."

John nodded, processing the information. "Understood, sir. It’s... it's not every day you hear of a human living among them. Could be a treasure-trove of intel or a well-set trap."

"Exactly, Major. Your role will be oversight. Observe the interrogations, gauge his reactions, and verify his story. We need your judgment on this, John. Can he be trusted, or is this another layer of the war we hadn’t anticipated?"

"I'll start right away, sir." John’s voice held a cautious optimism, tempered by years of combat and betrayal.

Colonel Holland nodded, his expression hardening again with the weight of command. "Be thorough, Major. Dismissed."

---

In the stark, gray-walled interrogation room, John found Fred already present, standing awkwardly to one side. The sight was unexpected, and John’s steps faltered briefly as he processed his friend’s presence.

“Fred? What’s the occasion?” John queried, his tone light but curious, the metallic-green of his armor reflecting the harsh overhead lights.

Fred shifted uncomfortably, the faintest flush visible beneath his helmet's rim. “Well, it’s a bit of a shocker, John. Turns out this kid, Rohkte,” he gestured towards the young man seated behind the one-way mirror, “is my nephew. DNA confirmed it just this morning.”

John’s eyes widened behind his visor. “Your nephew? That’s...unexpected.”

“Tell me about it,” Fred muttered, then managed a wry grin. “Family reunions are going to be a nightmare.”

Behind the glass, Rohkte sat with a posture that screamed defiance and pride. Even seated, his training was evident; he held himself like a coiled spring, every muscle taut and ready.

They watched as Rohkte spoke animatedly with the interrogator, his gestures broad and confident. Even through the soundproof glass, his energy was palpable.

“So, what’s his story?” John asked, intrigued despite the bizarre situation.Fred chuckled. “Oh, it gets better. He’s been a bit of a charmer, according to the debrief. Thinks it’s perfectly fine to date, or "court" in his words, multiple women at once—”

“—especially if they're of high rank or have influential parents,” John finished, having read the brief. He shook his head in amusement. “The governor’s daughter and Admiral Benjamin’s daughter, huh? That’s aiming high.”

Fred nodded, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, says it’s tradition or something. Honor to be chosen by him. I can’t tell if he’s delusional or just really confident.”

As if on cue, Rohkte’s voice finally carried through the speaker, his tone earnest yet filled with a brash kind of pride. “In my culture, it is customary to seek partners who enhance one’s standing. Both these women are formidable, respected. It would be my honor to court them, as it would elevate their status further.”

John and Fred exchanged a look, a mixture of disbelief and entertainment crossing their features.

“Sounds like he’s taken the whole ‘noble warrior’ thing to heart,” John remarked, a smile playing at the edge of his lips.

Fred sighed dramatically. “Guess I’ll have to teach him a few things about human customs. Starting with monogamy, maybe?”

“Good luck with that,” John laughed, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “If he’s anything like his uncle, he’s going to be a handful.”

Fred groaned, but his tone was light. “Oh, don’t remind me. Let’s just try to get through this without starting an interstellar political-shitstorm.”

---

The medbay's cafeteria... John and Fred stood, watching Rohkte devour his meal with a ferocity that was both impressive and slightly unnerving. The young man's sixth plate was just like the previous five: piled high with a mountain of calories—meats, grains, and vegetables mixed in chaotic abundance.

Fred whistled lowly, his eyes wide as he observed the eating frenzy. “You weren’t kidding about his appetite. Looks like he’s trying to eat everything in the mess hall.”John chuckled, his gaze fixed on Rohkte, who seemed to inhale his food rather than chew it. “Yeah, and that’s just his first round. He’s been at it for a while now. Makes sense, though, considering the bio-augments he’s sporting.”

“True,” Fred replied, leaning against a nearby table. “His mods aren’t exactly what we’re used to, but they’re close enough to give us a run for our money. Needs all that fuel to keep the engine running, I suppose.”

Rohkte, seemingly oblivious to their presence, reached for another hefty serving of protein-rich food, stacking his plate once more. His physical prowess was undeniable, each movement precise and powerful, even in something as mundane as serving himself food.

“Look at him go,” John said, a hint of admiration in his tone. “Reminds me of Kelly’s appetite, though I think he might have her beat.”

Fred laughed, shaking his head. “That’s saying something. Kelly can out-eat a squad on her own. But this kid? He’s on another level.”

They continued to watch, the room filled with the clatter of cutlery and the low murmur of conversation from other personnel. Rohkte finally seemed to notice them, his intense gaze lifting from his plate to meet theirs.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, his voice tinged with a confident smirk, clearly not embarrassed in the slightest by his ravenous display.“

Just making sure you’re getting enough to eat,” John quipped back, his tone friendly but teasing. “Wouldn’t want you passing out during training because you missed a snack.”

Rohkte’s smirk widened. “Fear not, I have yet to meet a meal I couldn’t conquer. But thank you for your... concern.”Fred stepped forward, offering a more serious tone. “We’re glad you’re adjusting well, Rohkte. How are you feeling with all the changes?”

Rohkte paused, considering the question for a moment before responding. “It is... different here. But I am adapting. The training is familiar, but the food is better.” He gestured to his overloaded plate with a grin. “Much better.”

John nodded, pleased with the response. “Good to hear. We’ll start some joint training sessions soon. It’ll be interesting to see how you match up with our teams.”

Rohkte’s eyes lit up with the challenge, the warrior spirit evident. “I look forward to it. It will be an honor to learn from Earth’s finest.”

As they wrapped up their conversation and Rohkte returned to his meal, John and Fred exchanged a look of silent agreement. The kid was extraordinary, a testament to the complex weave of genetics and upbringing. And while his appetite might be a marvel—or a horror—his potential was something they both recognized and respected.

[augustjustice]

WIP Weekend

I may be a little more sporadic with this one as I've got a busy weekend coming up, but still want to dive and get a bit of writing done!

The Rules:

In a reblog (or a new post w/ rules attached) post up to five (5) file names of your wips. Not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

The WIPS:

S4 Missing Scene fic

Steddie Bodyswap Ch. 1

Crush Confessions Ch. 2

Untitled Marmalade fic

Snippet and Taglist under the cut:

“The pool, at my place,” Steve trucks on, that determined clench to his jaw. “That’s what it was–well, is–for me. The place, where the demogorgon attacked. It took Barbara–Holland? Nancy’s best friend. The first night that we…” he trails off with a shake of his head, “well, anyway. It doesn’t matter. I’m just saying, I get it. Maybe not to the level of, you know, having your whole goddamn ceiling ripped out, but–the Upside Down, all this shit. It takes things from us. All of us. And I’m sorry that it happened to you, too, but…at least you’re not alone?”

Eddie gnaws on his bottom lip, as he looks at Steve, watching the other teen wince. Like he just knows it’s not enough.

But the thing is…it is. Steve has to know that it is.

“To be honest, I think that’s the only thing that’s keeping me from just, I don’t know–shattering into a million little pieces, or something,” Eddie admits. “The fact that you guys–” 

Embarrassingly enough, his throat contracts, for a second, choking off his words. 

“...that you’re here. With me.”

I'm no pressure tagging @eriquin @lingeringmirth @thefreakandthehair @sidekick-hero and anyone else who sees this and would like to join!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello, Steph! :) I hope you are doing well! I know you sometimes have a tough time but I hope things are looking up! Spring is coming, so at least I hope the weather is better and there's some more daylight. :)

I wondered if you have any stories where Sherlock is a (professional) violinist. Maybe this has been asked before, I think I remember something of this kind but I can't find it again. I hope you don't mind. :)

Thank you so much! Your recs are brilliant, I have found so many gems by looking through your lists! :) It must be so much work, I and we all really appreciate it!

Have some virtual tulips, and best wishes from Holland! 🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

Hey Nonny!

AHHHH!!! Thank you for the tulips and checking up on me! You made my day!! Doing a bit better, just looking forward to summer so I can spend more time outside, heh. I really need to take a break from here for a bit soon, I think.

Ah, I think I have been asked in the past but let's go through my lists anyway! First off, you can check out my two Violin lists:

Sherlock’s Violin

Sherlock’s Violin Pt 2

And here are fics on my MFL list tagged with Sherlock being a violinist:

While the Music Lasts by gunandviolin (E, 44,645+ w., 6/? Ch. || WiP || Orchestra AU || Slow Burn, Jealous John, Angst with Happy Ending, Classical Music, Sexual Tension) – John Watson, a weary veteran of the professional orchestra circuit, settles into his new position as principal clarinetist for the London Symphony, hoping that he's left his worries behind in the States. However, his sudden acquaintance with the brilliant solo violinist Sherlock Holmes and the suspicious circumstances surrounding the death of his predecessor prove that John's troubles are far from over.

Sehnenfäden by holmesian_love and Strange_johnlock (M, 67,879 w., 22 Ch. || Violinist Sherlock AU || Idiots in Love, Alternate First Meeting, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humour, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, First Time, Nature, Music, Seclusion, Angst with Happy Ending, Non-Explicit Sex) – William Sherlock Holmes is a world-renowned violinist, uncompromising with his principles and his punishing schedule, pushed to breaking point by his manager.John Watson is a lost, retired army-doctor, returned to London with nowhere to live. Both men end up in situations which lead them to a secluded German village in the mountains, escaping from the unforgiving world around them. A chance encounter brings them together, sharing a friendship and understanding neither of them have found before. Will they be able to find a way to express their true feelings for one another, to find the path to be together, despite Sherlock’s chaotic lifestyle?

-----

There was also a fic called "Queen's Philharmonic" by holmsianscholar that was removed, so if anyone has that as a PDF or ebook, please let us know. Webarchive didn't save it because I believe it was a locked fic, so sadly my link I have is useless :(

If anyone has any other "professional violinist Sherlock" fics to add, because I need more of this AU, PLEASE do!! <3

[foxes-that-run]

Kiwi

Kiwi has similarities to Blank Space in that it considers if something hurtful in a tabloid was true. Harry said Kiwi was one of the first songs written for the album after a rest post-1d, he described it as releasing a lot of pent up creative energy in the Behind the Music (at 15:50). To Radio 1 Harry said it 'started as a joke but now is one of his favorite songs' (at 13:43). Mine too Harry.

Kiwi music video

The girl in the flower suit in a hallway is Harry. A blonde boy at 1:05 (on the Cactus line) represents Bleachella Taylor on April 29, 2016.

The other kids start flinging words then food and eventually the Harry/TS kids get drawn in. Harry himself shows up to release dogs, remind us of Dunkirk by crawling in the food fight.

Possibly my favourite is that it ends on a class photo that the Taylor child is not in, like every time they are together. it's genius.

When was it written

MMIH, Kiwi and Sweet Creature were the first songs written for the album, in LA between February and May 2016. MMIH and Kiwi are in this photo of the album taking shape from before Harry cut his hair for Dunkirk.

There is also a video of Harry singing it with long hair in Behind the Album

Lyrics

[Verse 1] She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect And all the boys, they were saying they were into it Such a pretty face on a pretty neck

Harry introduces his muse as a smart, pretty woman who smokes and drinks. He has a similar character in Daylight who does cocaine in the kitchen. Harry definitively said on Howard Stern he hates smoking, so while not literal shows Harry's muse is flawed.

[Pre-Chorus] She's driving me crazy, but I'm into it (Oh) But I'm into it (Oh), I'm kinda into it It's getting crazy, I think I'm losing it (Hey!) I think I'm losing it, oh, I think she said

Stockholm Syndrome, has similar messages of enjoying being driven crazy by a paramor.

[Chorus] "I'm having your baby" "It's none of your business"

The way Harry sings this chorus like a tabloid headline. The ‘it’s none of your business’ is directed to the media & listener. Taylor also spoke about serious impacts of these in Miss Americana and sold a parody TS tabloid version of Reputation. The parody tabloid connects that Ready for it? also refers to these, To be so lonely has the line 'I wasn't ready'.

[Verse 2] It's New York, baby, always jacked up (Hey) Holland Tunnel for a nose, it's always backed up When she's alone, she goes home to a cactus (Uh) In a black dress, she's such an actress

The start of Verse 2 links back to Harry's feelings of pent up frustration and creative energy from the year before.

Cactus is a play on words, cactus/prick/CH, however it’s also sung in a way to sound like Cat(us). In the 2015 Grammys red carpet interview Taylor says she’s "going home to the cats".

Taylor was alone, Harry was touring in Australia, the next time they were seen in the same place was the 2015 BBMAs Taylor was with a cactus.

Gorgeous also includes a line about stumbling on home to her cats alone. In May 2018, long after Kiwi was released, Toe confirmed their relationship with matching cactus photos.

[Verse 3] She sits beside me like a silhouette Hard candy drippin' on me till my feet are wet And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it (Cha-ching!) It's like I paid for it, I'm gonna pay for this (Oh!)

In the final verse is in the aftermath, his connection with his muse is empty, like a silhouette, a reference to Two Ghosts. Ready for it? also refers to them as ghosts.

'Like I paid for it' / 'I'm gonna pay for this' are about a casual hook up with chemistry. This is a Pay for it is a theme in Harry and Taylors songs about each other (like he paid for it), but he still loves them so will emotionally pay for it. Harry uses similar language in other songs, in Grapejuice "I pay for it more than I did back then."

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 11

Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide

(Ch. 10) ... (Ch. 1)

Summary: Alix prepares for her next mission despite still being haunted by her last. WARNINGS: Death, Survivor's Guilt, Angst, a protective Joe, the usual war stuff Taglist: @softguarnere @latibvles @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @auroralightsthesky

Contemporary: September 15th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

Unlike the rest of Easy, Alix hadn't gotten any free time in England. 

She hadn't seen Joe, Skip, Don, or any of Easy Company, save for Nixon, in about 2 months because she was practically living with the SOE. 

The British were in charge of the latest operation, meaning that Alix had to rely on the Strategic Operations Executive for all additional training and intel, much to her chagrin.

Rumors were swirling in the intelligence community that the SOE had been compromised but no one wanted to believe it.

One of the foremost Allied espionage organizations, compromised?

It was truly a harrowing thought.

Every time she was in an intelligence briefing or doing combat training, she couldn't help but wonder if her opponent was actually an enemy agent. There was almost no way to know until it was too late, like with Jean-Pierre.

You should've known.

It pounded like footfalls on pavement in her head.

You should've known.

You should've known.

He was a fucking kid, for Christ's sake, still a teenager, not even old enough to buy a drink back home in the States.

He liked playing chess and Benny Goodman records.

But he was an enemy spy.

He was the Milice and Gestapo Liaison.

He was the mole.

He had betrayed her friends.

And now he was dead.

The gunshots, the blood spatter, the dull thud of his body hitting the pew, those lifeless gray eyes staring into space...

She saw them every night in her sleep. Alix couldn't remember the last time she'd woken up rested.

Every day, she fought monsters and every night, they just came back in some twisted Sisyphean dance, and she'd wake up with her heart just about beating out of her chest.

Does it count as survivor's guilt if you're a murderer?

Are you still a murderer if it's your job to murder?

Alix didn't have the answers.

As the agency in charge of the next operation, British Intelligence had done their best to remedy the damage that Jean-Pierre had done to her operations but there was no telling if it would work. A fake obituary had been planted in the French and German press to kill off her old identity and erase any Gestapo suspicion of her escape from France. But that meant a new identity needed to take its place so she could continue her work, an identity that the SOE would be supplying...

"Adelina and Niccolò Duchamps?" Alix read, turning the forged passports over in her hands before looking up at the man standing at the opening of her tent. "We have a joint cover now? You've got to be joking." 

"Believe me, I wish I was," Lieutenant Nixon replied grimly as he entered from the night, nursing a flask full of what Alix guessed was his usual whiskey. 

"But they're sending me with you this time. Orders came in this morning."

"Why?" Alix crossed her arms, bristling at the insinuation. "I completed my mission just fine without you before. I think I'm well-past needing a babysitter."

HQ was constantly undermining her, like she hadn't been training for two whole years for exactly this type of solo mission.

What was the point of having highly-trained female operatives if they wouldn't let them into the field because they're female?

It was maddening.

"Trust me, I don't like it any better than you do but we don't have a choice."

He grimaced.

"You had Toulouse's support in France but we don't have that in Holland. It's heavily male-dominated and they won't take well to a female agent unless she's accompanied. HQ figures a brother/sister team is the best way to go."

 

"Well that's stupid," Alix remarked, putting her hands on her hips. "I was trained for fieldwork. They need to let me do my fucking job." 

"You're preaching to the choir, kid." Nixon replied dryly. "Not that it's much consolation but I tried to make the same argument to HQ earlier and they read me the fucking riot act so if you want to try, be my guest but don't cry to me when they pull you from the mission completely." 

Alix cocked an eyebrow.

"You really stuck up for me with HQ?" she asked, not quite believing her ears. "You told them I was ready to go into the field alone? Am I hearing this correctly?"

"And look, I'm already regretting it," Nixon deadpanned.

Alix rolled her eyes at him and sipped her third coffee of the day out of her godawful tin mug.

So her handler believed in her after all.

How about that, she thought. Better look up when I'm outside tomorrow morning. Might see some pigs flying next.

She would've killed for something stronger than coffee to steady her nerves but her handler had a strong No-Drinking-On-the-Job rule, which naturally seemed to only apply to her.

 

"Well I still don't like the joint cover idea," she groused doggedly and Nixon took another long swig from his flask before clinking it against her mug like they were exchanging cheers on New Years. 

"Join the club."

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Contemporary: September 17th, 1944. Membury Airfield, England.

Alix could hear Bill from halfway across the airfield, arriving at the moral of a colorful story he'd been telling some spellbound replacements, presumably to keep them from getting too nervous before the jump. 

"And that, kiddies," he said sagely. "is why you never piss off an Italian woman, 'specially when she's from Philly." 

"You talking about me again, Guarnere?" she teased as she approached the cluster. "Starting a fan club or something?"

"Well, speak of the she-devil!" Bill exclaimed with his usual welcoming grin, clapping her on the back like an old friend. "Where ya been, Pyro? Joe's been real lonely! Ain't that right, Lieb?"  

"Nah, hardly noticed." 

Alix's heart leapt at the familiar rasp. One of the taller replacements shifted to the side and there was Joe, her Joe, standing just behind him, the gold flecks in his eyes catching the sunlight as he looked at her. 

They didn't even need words; the way his face had brightened upon seeing her said it all, but he spoke anyway.

"Hiya gorgeous," he remarked, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Long time, no see." 

God, I missed you, Alix thought.

"Sorry, do I know you?" she teased and Joe broke into a grin, tugging her into his arms for a hug. 

"By now? You'd fuckin' better." 

Snaking his arm around her waist proudly, Joe stayed attached to her side the whole time preparations for the jump were taking place.

Neither of them voiced it but Alix knew in the pit of her stomach that they were both afraid. 

Soon, forces beyond their control would rip them apart and every parting held the risk of a more permanent goodbye.

Spies operating radios in the field had a life expectancy of 6 weeks. It was only a matter of time before she got caught, they both knew that.

And caught, for a spy, almost always meant torture and death.

Their love was very much on borrowed time.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

As usual, Joe insisted on checking her chutes before his own and when he found that her reserve was damaged, he just about lost it. 

"Who the fuck rigged this?" he demanded, momentarily separating himself from her to interrogate a couple unfortunate PRs who happened to be passing by. 

She could hear the shaking rage in Joe's rising voice, threatening the Parachute Riggers with every conceivable danger he could think of as he pushed for the name of the person who'd unknowingly endangered the life of someone he cared for. 

Alix shook her head, a little embarrassed and a lot amused. 

She didn't think she would've ended up using the faulty reserve anyway because her primary was fine but she still pitied the person who'd packed it whenever the infuriated Joe got ahold of him. 

Meandering away from the argument over her damaged chute, Alix wove her way through the crowd as she searched for her two best friends, squinting in the sunlight as she scanned for the recognizably bright red hair of Don Malarkey. 

Locating Don was a sure-fire way to locate Skip as well because in all the time she'd known them, she'd never seen them apart. 

The three of them had been attached at the hip since they'd met at the White Rose several months earlier when a bored Alix had accidentally talked her way into a drinking contest with the two of them, eventually resulting in the trio stumbling outside into an alleyway and violently throwing up their dinners onto the bricks and bushes nearby.

Out of the goodness of his heart (and perhaps out of sheer exasperation), Skip had eventually declared a Three-Way Tie but even all those months later, both Don and Alix each remained insistent that they were the true winner. 

It didn't feel right being away from them, Alix thought as she surveyed the crowd. She missed her favorite dumbasses. 

Stopping a passing trooper at the edge of the larger crowd, she was about to inquire if he'd seen the pair when a yank on a strand of her hair and a loud "Ahem!" answered her question before it was even asked.

"Scuse me, trooper," a voice from behind said, trying and failing to adopt a gruff, businesslike tone. "But your hair's not in regs."  

"Gonna have to take a knife to it, I guess!" another voice chimed in, brimming with laughter. 

"Do it and die, you two," Alix threatened jokingly, turning around to see the grinning faces of Skip Muck and Don Malarkey standing just behind her. 

"Thought that was you, Pyro," Skip beamed, giving his friend a bear hug. "Either that or one of the fellas got real comfortable with hair curlers all of a sudden!" 

"'S good to have you back," Malarkey added as he joined the impromptu group hug. "We missed ya!"

"I missed you guys too," Alix replied with a grin. "Hope I didn't miss out on anything too fun while I was gone. SOE briefings are a nightmare!"

"Oh yeah, you missed a swell time," Skip snarked with a friendly nudge of her shoulder. "Nothing like sitting around, twiddling our thumbs while there's a war on. Does wonders for morale."

"Yeah, I bet," Alix quipped. 

She was about to ask Skip if he and Faye had decided on a song for their first dance yet when the loud rumbling of a nearby Jeep interrupted.

All three of their heads perked up at the same time as it passed, each bearing a similar expression of consternation and horror as they realized who was inside it. 

"What is he doing here?" Alix hissed and Malarkey blanched at the sight.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered just as Sobel approached them, with the same vicious smugness as he’d had so many months before, like a hungry snake staring down its dinner.

“Well, if it isn’t Muck, Malarkey, and Martinelli," he sneered, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. "Our Three fucking Musketeers."

Unpleasant memories of 5 mile runs and digging ditches flashed through Alix's mind like a film reel of her most miserable moments and it took all her strength not to haul off and punch Sobel right in his stupid fucking face, consequences be damned. 

"Sir." She saluted but glared at him as she spat the word, wanting him to know just how it burnt like acid to have to address him as a superior. 

But he looked straight past her as though she wasn't even there. 

"Malarkey," he barked and Alix could feel Don's shoulders sag in defeat. 

"Sorry Mal," Alix whispered out of the corner of her mouth and she could see Skip slipping away as well, a half-apologetic, half-amused expression on his face. 

“What’s that all about?” Alix asked as the pair ducked their way out of earshot. 

“Oh Mal and Moore stole a bike for a while,” Skip answered as casually as one talks about the weather.

“They took it for a spin or two…maybe three... Anyway, Sobel’s pissed about it, as you can see.”

“Damn Skipper, sounds like I missed more than I thought.” 

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Like magic, Joe reappeared beside her just before she was due to leave.

“Took care of the fuckin’ moron who packed your chute, Zees,” he remarked, handing her a new pack. 

“This one oughta work as your spare.” 

"Not bad, Romeo," Skip commented as he helped Alix attach it. "Hope you didn't scare the poor kid too bad though. We need all the manpower we can get." 

"Nah," Joe replied with a wry smirk. "Didn’t scare him too bad. Just enough. Shouldn't be packing chutes if he can't pack 'em right anyway."  

Skip and Joe were still conversing but once she was properly outfitted, Alix couldn't help but tune them out, releasing a shaky sigh. 

Soon she would be jumping into Occupied Holland and during the day, no less. 

They would be completely exposed, in broad daylight: a spy's worst nightmare. 

All it would take was one trigger-happy sadist in a gray uniform to end the lives of herself and everyone she cared about. 

She tried to keep her face impartial but Joe could feel her unease and lightly brushed his arm against hers, leaning into her just enough that she could feel the weight of him next to her. 

I love you, Ziskeit, the gesture said. I'm right here.

Alix did the same and gave him a wan smile in return.

I know. I love you too. 

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

The jump into the Netherlands wasn’t too bad, all things considered. The air had a pleasant autumn feel, the sky an endless stretch of soft pastel blue instead of a bitter rain, and for once, nobody was shooting at them on their way down. 

Alix, Lieutenant Nixon, and a small cluster of pathfinders had left England and dropped in hours before the rest of the Airborne arrived. It would be easier to connect with the Dutch Resistance without worrying about crowds of paratroopers causing unnecessary attention.

The dense blanket of low-clinging Dutch clouds made it near impossible to tell where they were dropping, so when the time came, it seemed like everyone was simply giving it their best guess. 

Alix landed a little harder than she'd planned to, smacking the side of her hip against the ground with a thud, but she recovered quickly.

After freeing herself of her parachute and stumbling to her feet– which was not an easy task in civilian clothing– Alix jogged to catch up with Lieutenant Nixon, who was already several strides ahead of her. 

"You’re clear on the mission, targets, and cover story, correct?” he asked as she approached, his Italian almost as flawless as her own. “Because if you have any last minute questions, now is the time.”

Alix took a moment to ponder, running though everything she’d read in the past couple days, before asking, 

“If we’re supposed to be the children of a Swiss-Italian socialite, then why did the SOE change our father’s surname to French? It was De Rossi before, wasn’t it?” 

“It was,” Nixon agreed. “But they wanted to give us an out. So they made the mother’s maiden name De Rossi and made her married name Duchamps instead. There’s a lot of anti-Italian sentiment going around in Resistance groups lately due to the Italian Campaign and we don’t need any friction. This way, we can switch as needed.”

Alix inspected her false identification papers one final time before tucking them back into the waistband of her trousers with a simple nod. 

“Fair enough.” 

As the pair approached the outskirts of the city, rustic farmhouses and rows upon rows of brick townhouses stood before them, a sea of orange flags marking each one like bright traffic cones. 

“You ready?” Nixon asked out of the corner of his mouth as they both scoured the urban landscape for their Resistance contact.

Alix snorted. 

"Ready as I'll ever be." 

[bunnyjoyce-blog]

In Ch 4 of Corrie ten Boom’s autobiography, The Hiding Place, she gives an account of a German apprentice at her family’s watch shop who had been a part of the Hitler Youth, which gives a peek of the indoctrination levels already in place by 1939.

—

And while Haarlem and the rest of Holland strolled and bowed and swept its steps, the neighbor on our east geared for war. We knew what was happening—there was no way to keep from knowing. Often in the evening, turning the dial on the radio, we would pick up a voice from Germany. The voice did not talk, or even shout. It screamed. Oddly, it was even-tempered Betsie who reacted most strongly, hurrying from her chair and flinging herself at the radio to shut off the sound.

And yet, in the interludes, we forgot. Or, when Willem was visiting and would not let us forget, or when letters to Jewish suppliers in Germany came back marked “Address Unknown,” we still managed to believe that it was primarily a German problem. “How long are they going to stand for it?” we said. “They won’t put up with that man for long.”

Only once did the changes taking place in Germany reach inside the little shop on the Barteljorisstraat, and that was in the person of a young German watchmaker. Germans frequently came to work under Father for a while, for his reputation reached even beyond Holland. So when this tall good-looking young man appeared with apprentice papers from a good firm in Berlin, Father hired him without hesitation. Otto told us proudly he belonged to the Hitler Youth. Indeed it was a puzzle to us why he had come to Holland, for he found nothing but fault with Dutch people and products. “The world will see what Germans can do,” he said often.

His first morning at work he came upstairs for coffee and Bible reading with the other employees; after that he sat alone down in the shop. When we asked him why, he said that though he had not understood the Dutch words, he had seen that Father was reading from the Old Testament which, he informed us, was the Jewish “Book of Lies.”

I was shocked, but Father was sorrowful. “He has been taught wrong,” he told us. “By watching us, seeing that we love this Book and are truthful people, he will realize his error.”

It was several weeks later that Betsie opened the door from the hallway and beckoned to Father and me. Upstairs on Tante Hand’s tall mahogany chair sat the lady who ran the rooming house where Otto lived. Changing the bedsheets that morning, she said, she had found something under his pillow. And she drew from her market satchel a knife with a curving ten-inch blade.

Again, Father put the best interpretation on it. “The boy is probably only frightened, alone in a strange country. He probably bought it to protect himself.”

It was true enough that Otto was alone. He spoke no Dutch, nor made any effort to learn, and besides Father, Betsie, and me, few people in this working-class part of the city spoke German. We repeated our invitation to join us upstairs in the evenings, but whether he did not care for our choice of radio programs, or because the evening ended as the morning began, with prayer and Bible reading, he seldom did.

In the end, Father did fire Otto—the first employe he had ever discharged in more than sixty years in business [sic]. And it was not the knife or the anti-Semitism that finally brought it about, but Otto’s treatment of the old clock mender, Christoffels.

From the very first I had been baffled by his brusqueness with the old man. It wasn’t anything he did—not in our presence anyway—but what he didn’t do. No standing back to let the older man go first, no helping on with a coat, no picking up a dropped tool. It was hard to pin down. One Sunday when Father, Betsie, and I were having dinner at Hilversum I commented on what I thought was simple thoughtlessness.

Willem shook his head. “It’s very deliberate,” he said. “It is because Christoffels is old. The old have no value to the State. They’re also harder to train in the new way of thinking. Germany is systematically teaching disrespect for old age.”

We stared at him, trying to grasp such a concept. “Surely you are mistaken, Willem!” Father said. “Otto is extremely courteous to me—unusually so. And I’m a good deal older than Christoffels.”

“You’re different. You’re the boss. That’s another part of the system: respect for authority. It’s the old and the weak who are to be eliminated.”

We rode the train home in stunned silence—and we started watching Otto more closely. But how could we know, how in Holland of 1939 could we have guessed, that it was not in the shop where we could observe him but in the streets and alleys outside that Otto was subjecting Christoffels to a very real, small persecution. “Accidental” collisions and trippings, a shove, a heel ground into a toe, were making the old clockman’s journeys to and from work times of terror.

The erect and shabby little man was too proud to report any of this to us. It was not until the icy February morning that Christoffels stumbled into the dining room with a bleeding cheek and a torn coat that the truth came out. Even then, Christoffels said nothing. But running down to the street to pick up his hat, I encountered Otto surrounded by an indignant little cluster of people who had seen what happened. Rounding the corner into the alley, the young man had deliberately forced the older one into the side of the building and ground his face against the rough bricks.

Father tried to reason with Otto as he let him go, to show him why such behavior was wrong. Otto did not answer. In silence he collected the few tools he had brought with him and in silence left the shop. It was only at the door that he turned to look at us, a look of the most utter contempt I had ever seen.

[k1ng0k]

meme redraws

[literalcatpod]

58. Making a Diplo-catic Mobster in Capers Feat. @MadFishMonger

MadFishMonger is a long-time contributor to the Capers RPG, and came to us to talk about it! We made her cat into a character! Anyway, check out Capers by Nerdburger Games!

Follow MadFishMonger: https://www.tumblr.com/madfishmonger

Check out her new adventure module: https://ko-fi.com/s/19301b6525

Follow the show online: https://badgertrove.com/literalcatpod/

Follow Joel Holland: https://jholland.start.page/

Follow Avalon: https://twitter.com/AvalonAlchemist

We’ve got a Patreon now! https://www.patreon.com/BadgerTrove

Download the character sheets: https://bit.ly/literalcatpod

Join our Discord! https://badgertrove.com/discord/

Cover art, midroll theme, and Intro/Outro music made by Joel Holland

Thanks for listening! We’ll Cat-ch you later!

[padme789]

Rated E PART I Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 -  8 - 9 - 10 - 11 PART II Chapters: 12 - Not Finished Steamy Fluff: 8 [Finally edited everything to my liking - still TTRPG fantasy as its base, but with an 80s fantasy novel vibe to it. More info in Ch1 & Ch12]

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Robin/Nancy, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Nancy, Robin, Steve, Eddie, Dustin, Lucas, Max, Erica, Eleven, Will, Mike, Hopper, Joyce, Henry | One | Vecna, The Party Moms (Karen, Sue, Claudia), Mrs. Buckley Additional Tags [not all tags are shown full list in chapter link]: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Slow Burn, Background Relationships, Graphic Description, Blood and Violence, Nancy Wheeler Loves Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler Has a Crush on Robin Buckley, Endgame Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler & Robin Buckley & Barbara "Barb" Holland are a friend trio, [future] Minor Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, at least its not the same, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Proper Smut CH coming soon

Chapter 12 Excerpt: “What you’re speaking about in this,” Nancy placed a finger on the rough draft. “This is something. No one would ignore that. You’ll figure it out.” She can see a blush cross her ex-boyfriend’s cheeks from the compliment. “Have you figured out what you will do about the Hollands? Sinclair mentioned something to Dustin the other day while I was standing watch for his mom at her shop.” The Barbarian sighed, leaning back in his chair, playing with what was left on his plate with his fork. “She’s been getting looky-loos lately. Everyone wants to know where she got the statue that overlooks the inner garden.”

... The wind stilled as the fog of the night began to settle. All were in their homes. Only the stragglers wandered the streets. Up in a small room to the side above Melvald’s General lay a Sorcerer drifting away, letting sleep take hold, and the whispers whistle in. “Come find us—please come find us. Set us free—please set us free. We’re locked away … it is so dark—we’re locked away, he and me.” — new summary below

A High Fantasy retailing of Stranger Things in the style of a TTRPG so lots of dragons.

Nancy, Robin and friends prepare for an adventure on the horizon.

Nancy and Robin are slow burning, but very bright. Ronance is endgame.

-or- The stars feel cruel to Nancy and Robin. Always passing, never aligning. Will Nancy and Robin realize they have always wanted more, or as always, turn from possibilities, afraid of losing the strong bond they already have?

[elegantmadness]

Seeds of Doubt, Chapter 1

Fandom(s): Final Fantasy VII (potential spoilers for Crisis Core, OG game, Remake, Intermission, Dirge of Cerberus, and/or Advent Children), Final Fantasy VIII, and Final Fantasy XIII. Please note, however, that this is not a cross-over; the characters I've brought in are considered to be from Gaia/FFVII's universe. Knowledge of FF 8 or 13 isn't necessary to understand.

Summary: President Shinra's sons have concocted a plan: bring the Seven, Shinra's First Class SOLDIERs, into the fold, and begin to dismantle the company from within.

But even with the aid of the Turks and peripheral support lent to Avalanche, all does not go according to plan.

Main/Major Characters: Sephiroth, Genesis Rhapsodos, Angeal Hewley, Zack Fair, Cloud Strife, Lightning, Squall Leonhart

Please note: Cetra/Ancient!Squall Leonhart, and Odin-living-inside-Lightning-a-la-Chaos-in-Vincent.

Side/Secondary Characters: Lazard Deusericus, Rufus Shinra, Auron

Mentioned Characters (as of ch. 2): Hojo, Hollander, Seifer Almasy, Irvine Kinneas, Rinoa Heartilly, Gast Faremis, Ifalna, Jenova, Edea Kramer, Gillian Hewley, Jecht, Serah Farron

Rating: For this first chapter, it's T. The overall fic will be E.

Pairing/Relationships: Oof. The Seven will be swinging. Any combination you can imagine will likely be involved. Each chapter will have its pairing/poly specified, however. This opener has no explicit pairing.

AO3 Link

Sephiroth’s gaze drifted away from his slowly-dwindling stack of paperwork as he glanced towards the analogue clock on the wall, and once more considered the meeting that was set to begin in less than twenty minutes. Something was going on, though that much was obvious from the news that every first-class SOLDIER would be in attendance. Sephiroth couldn’t recall a single time they’d all been involved in the same mission, though such was to be expected unless there was a crisis on the horizon. Lazard hadn’t been forthcoming about the details when Sephiroth had asked the previous day, the man proving even more cagey than usual. It was possible Angeal might know more – he and Lazard seemed rather friendly, after all – but it was rare to see his friend at headquarters anymore. 

No doubt Shinra was… concerned about the three of them being in close proximity, and while he’d argued at the time, he’d been soundly overruled. Genesis was now in charge of Zone Two, half a world away in a region of Gaia that included Wutai, and Angeal had been given Zone Five in the north, home to Modeoheim and the otherwise frigid region surrounding their reactor and the well-known Icicle Inn. 

He had to shake the memory free from his thoughts or he’d never finish his work, however. 

Or, at least, that had been Sephiroth’s intention. He hadn’t seen Genesis or Angeal in months, and the solitude had begun to wear on him. There was no shortage of people working for Shinra, but most seemed either afraid or in awe of him: an idol to be seen as more – and less – than human, and he hadn’t the patience to deal with such things. 

“Knock knock! You ready for the meeting?” 

There had only ever been one exception to this beyond Genesis and Angeal, and Sephiroth felt his lips curl up into a soft smile as he looked up over his computer console and met Zack’s gaze. “It doesn’t start for another ten minutes,” Sephiroth reminded him, not at all surprised when Zack dropped his hand from the door jamb and slipped inside, his nervous energy palpable as he wrung his hands together and quickly shifted his weight from one foot to the other multiple times. 

“But I’m excited!” Zack replied with a grin, his blue eyes glimmering as he finally let himself drop into the chair on the other side of Sephiroth’s desk. “I haven’t seen Angeal in ages! And have you even met the other Firsts? I’ve only read Leonhart’s reports when Lazard lets me, and I didn’t even know Farron was a woman until Lazard mentioned it in passing yesterday!” 

Sephiroth let out a low chuckle at that. “I have never met Leonhart, but Farron and I have exchanged messages in the past. Never in person, though,” Sephiroth added a little slyly, watching as Zack’s mouth parted and subsequently closed before he could even voice his question. “And Strife? You and he have been on assignment together lately, haven’t you?” 

“Oh, he’s good. Still embarrassed whenever I mention you, but good,” Zack offered, a touch of mirth twisting his lips almost into a smirk. 

Sephiroth let out a quiet sigh at the reminder. When Strife had been training to take his place as a First, Sephiroth had gone with Zack to observe just as Strife’s weight distribution shifted in the wrong direction and the sword he’d been holding fell out of his hands and clattered to the floor. He’d turned such a dark shade of red Sephiroth had even feared he’d cut himself inadvertently…

“You’ve told him he doesn’t need to be embarrassed, yes? None of us were born with sword skills,” Sephiroth reminded him, though Zack merely arched an eyebrow at him. 

“You sure about that, Seph? ‘Cause if you ask around it sounds like you popped out of the womb with Masamune in your hand.” 

“Now there’s an interesting image.” The pair turned towards the doorway, and Sephiroth’s brow smoothed as Zack all-but-leaped out of his seat and threw himself into Angeal’s arms. “I missed you too, Zack.” Angeal’s chuckles were quiet and warm as he returned the embrace a little more gently, Sephiroth standing in a seamless motion and approaching as Zack finally released his old mentor. 

“It’s been too long,” Angeal greeted Sephiroth with a fond smile, though Sephiroth merely lifted an eyebrow at the hand being held out to him. 

“Seriously? A handshake? You two have met before, right?” Zack teased Angeal readily, laughing at the exasperated roll of Angeal’s eye before offering Sephiroth a one-armed hug. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Genesis yet, you have?” Angeal wondered aloud, though Zack and Sephiroth exchanged a look before shaking their heads. His smile fell at that before he nodded and straightened just a little. “Well. I guess we’d better get down to the meeting, then. With any luck, he’s already there and waiting for us.” 

–

The briefing room hadn’t changed at all, and Genesis wasn’t entirely sure if such a revelation annoyed him to no end or gave him comfort. He’d been out west for months now, gauging the Wutaians’ intentions and trying his best to maintain the ceasefire and negotiate for a reactor, but for every step forward he made, something else always seemed to impede his path and drive him three steps back. 

The novelty of being away from Midgar had worn off quickly. He’d yearned to return for the art and culture he missed being in the middle of nowhere, not to mention the friendships he’d spent years cultivating. He trusted the men under his command, helped them train, saw them through the worst of the mako injections and wartime injuries, but comrades-in-arms simply weren’t the same as those on equal footing. Angeal had been his rock, Sephiroth his muse and constant drive to do better, and they’d been taken away as though he’d been a naughty child.

Genesis glanced up as the briefing room door slid open with a quiet hiss, and straightened himself when a pair of mostly-unfamiliar men strode inside. The blond was vaguely familiar, with a head of hair so spiky it could have given Zack a run for his money, but the other… his face bore a scar right across the brim of his nose. It was almost startling to see, considering how quickly SOLDIERs healed, and Genesis idly wondered if he’d received the scar before his mako treatments. 

There was… something else, Genesis was noticing. The scarred brunet seemed almost… overwhelmed. If his arm brushed the blond’s he winced away and tried to hide his natural inclination to recoil, but he never actively drew away. Auburn eyebrows narrowed curiously just as the pair of them turned their gazes in his direction. 

“You are… Zack’s friend, yes?” It wasn’t the most welcoming introduction, but the blond simply nodded before settling into one of the chairs at the briefing table. 

“Cloud Strife. You’re Genesis, I take it?” Genesis didn’t even try to stop his lips from curling into a lazy smirk. 

“What gave me away? The garishly-red coat, perhaps?” 

“Among other things, sure,” Cloud replied with a shrug, not rising to the bait and leaving Genesis just a little disappointed. The brunet had yet to say a single word, and Genesis let his gaze wander to the other man just as the door slid open again. 

“Welllllll! Looks like a party in here,” Zack announced, dropping a hand onto Cloud’s shoulder and squeezing before looking over at Squall curiously. “Nice to meet ya! I’m Zack. I understand you’ve been helping my buddy here on a few missions lately, yeah? Thanks!” He reached a hand out for Squall to shake, and Zack pointedly ignored the glowing redness on Cloud’s cheeks as Squall blinked at him owlishly before offering Zack the briefest shake of hands physically possible. 

“Ah! Angeal! I’d nearly forgotten what you looked like.” Angeal’s eyes rolled at Genesis’ greeting, though he didn’t shy away from the embrace when it came. “And you,” Genesis turned his attention to Sephiroth after pulling back from the lulling warmth and breadth of Angeal’s chest. “You’d better be prepared to spar.” Sephiroth offered him a weak smile as he tried to contain his sigh. 

“You never change, do you?” 

“Of course I do. I’ll keep getting stronger until I finally best you.” 

“Gentlemen.” 

The conversations ground to a halt when Lazard stepped inside, though he was not alone. Rufus Shinra trailed after him, his suit and hairstyle immaculate as he looked over the assembled Firsts. 

“I count six, Lazard,” Rufus spoke lazily, knowingly, his blue eyes glinting. “Where’s the last?” 

“On her way. There was a storm north of Junon that delayed their helicopter,” Lazard explained before turning his attention to the Firsts. “First, allow me to thank you all for coming back to Midgar. I know a meeting of this magnitude is unprecedented.”

“Yeah, what’s going on, Lazard? Is there going to be another war or something?” Zack piped up, though Genesis crossed his arms over his chest as he slipped into one of the chairs. 

“Hush now, Puppy. Let the director finish.” Zack bristled a little at the old nickname, though took a seat on Cloud’s unoccupied side before glancing back up at Lazard.

“There is something going on within Shinra itself that warrants a great deal of… scrutiny, perhaps even action,” Lazard continued, trying his best to sound diplomatic. 

“We are all well aware of the ethical… concerns Shinra scientists combat, Director,” Sephiroth interrupted stoically, taking a seat next to Genesis and folding his hands on the table. 

“Is that right?” Rufus answered knowingly, producing a golden coin seemingly out of thin air and letting it fall over his knuckles. “I fear even you are unfamiliar with just how deep the depravity runs, Sephiroth.” 

Sephiroth’s lips thinned at that, his hands tightening until what pigment they contained readily dissipated. Rufus Shinra had not been born in a lab, had not endured the physical and psychological torture–

He froze in place when a red-gloved hand settled over his, Genesis’ eyes glinting dangerously as his shoulders tensed. Was Genesis angry… on his behalf? 

“Sorry I’m late.” More than half a dozen pairs of eyes snapped to Lightning immediately, though she simply straightened and looked ahead, seemingly uninterested. 

“Not at all, Farron. Take a seat.” 

“We can finally get this meeting started.” With that, Rufus pulled out his phone and pressed a single button, though if it had any sort of effect, no one noticed. “Lazard and I have been digging into the science team’s misadventures over the years, and came across several projects that involve…well, everyone in this room save for the director and myself.” 

That particular bit of information had everyone suddenly quieting, the heaviness in the air reminiscent of a gravity spell a new cadet had misfired and caught them all inside. 

“You’re really just going to… air Shinra’s dirty laundry?” Zack was the first to recover, his face contorted as though he smelled something particularly unpleasant. “To us? Now? Don’t you think it could get a little personal–”

“Oh, it will mister Fair, I assure you.” Lazard’s glasses glinted in the glow of the overheard monitor as he pushed them back up the brim of his nose. “No one here has been exempt from Shinra’s misdeeds. Perhaps we are overstepping our bounds, but I see no alternative if you all are truly to grasp the lengths Shinra will go to in order to obtain power or further their own scientific interests.” 

“Hmph. Nice way of saying shut up, Director.” It was the first time Leonhart spoke, and the sarcasm in his tone was heavy, his eyes slipping shut as he leaned further back in his chair. Zack’s smile spilled over into a grin as he tried to contain his chuckles, and even Genesis and Sephiroth exchanged amused expressions. 

“It seems you’ve volunteered first, Leonhart, which is just as well. Your particular circumstances are the most peculiar and mysterious.” It was Rufus who addressed him this time, though Squall did little but eye him warily. He knew better than to interrupt the vice president of Shinra even if he thought this entire meeting was pointless. 

“So you’re just going to do this out in the open? With an unlocked door, glass windows, and recording devices watching us all?” Lightning spoke up this time, one of her gloved hands smoothing onto the table as she gave Rufus a rather demanding look. She’d taken the last, empty chair since stepping into the room: the one at the end by Leonhart, and leaned out far enough to see the pair of blonds glance at one another. 

“She has a point, Director. If anyone were to see what we were doing, well, being fired would be the least of our troubles.” Angeal had settled between Zack and Genesis, and the tension in his form was noticeable to Genesis; no doubt Angeal was dreading to hear whatever these men had to tell them, but Genesis, for one, was curious to hear what they had to say.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rufus scoffed. “The Turks have dampened this room from security, and the room itself has been sealed and is currently projecting nothing more malicious than a briefing running long.” 

Lightning seemed settled by that, though Angeal shifted in his seat only just – enough for Zack and Genesis both to notice. Zack even shot Genesis a tacit question with a raised eyebrow to which the redhead merely shrugged in return. Angeal had never liked secrets, had always preferred frank albeit hard conversations to hiding unpleasant truths. 

“Now. If no one else has any objections…,” Lazard’s voice trailed off as he glanced around the room, waiting for several heartbeats before nodding to himself. “Very well.” The monitor came to life as he navigated to one of the files on the console, and Squall couldn’t quite help how his shoulders hunched and his jaw tightened as Lazard began to explain. 

“Over twenty years ago, there was a scientist here at Shinra who was convinced that the way to procure the genetic material of an Ancient was to use Time Materia. This, of course, was before we made our discovery in the bowels of the Northern Crater.” The picture on the screen showed a slight woman, pale and dark-haired, and Squall’s jaw tightened even further. “Now, when I say Time Materia I refer not to that which we have now – these were not simple slow and stop spells she was attempting.”

“Wait wait. Ancients? Seriously? I thought they died out a long time ago,” Zack couldn’t stop himself from piping up, and Lazard inclined his head in Fair’s direction before answering.

“Precisely.”

“...She was attempting to use the Time Materia to travel to another time,” Sephiroth supplied for Lazard. 

“We had no evidence of any remaining Ancients, so if Shinra wanted samples or specimens, returning to a time when they still lived undoubtedly seemed a logical step.” Genesis scoffed at that, though Angeal’s brows were furrowing. How did this relate to Leonhart…?

“So, what? You’re saying she succeeded?” Genesis offered mockingly, though the tense expression only grew on Lazard’s face. 

“It’s impossible to say,” he finally offered. “The last of her logs were corrupted, though we suspect they were tampered with by Professor Gast.”

“Gast?” Sephiroth murmured softly, thoughtfully, a sliver of silver bangs falling against the long line of his nose. “Was he not the scientist who found Ifalna?” 

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know about that,” Rufus remarked, leaning back in his chair as Lazard cleared his throat to regain attention.

“Gast claimed that Dr Kramer died from her own experiments, and that Leonhart wasn’t connected to her, but the timeline fits. When he returned from dealing with the remnants of Kramer’s research, he brought a young Leonhart with him. He claimed you were simply… suited for becoming a SOLDIER, but we have our suspicions. Your sensitivity to mako is of particular note, and your affinity for magic and materia is… substantial.” It was here Lazard paused, adjusting his glasses once more as Squall openly scoffed at his theory.

“So that makes me an Ancient, does it?” It little helped matters that he couldn’t recall anything before meeting Professor Gast, though that didn’t prove anything. 

“This is ridiculous,” Lightning practically hissed in the Director’s direction. “If you don’t have anything worthwhile to tell us, then–”

“Sit down, Farron.” Lazard was rarely the type to raise his voice, and Lightning froze upon hearing it, her eyes gleaming menacingly before she clenched her jaw and sat back down. 

“Lazard, please. You have to realize how ridiculous this all sounds. Everything you’ve shown us is circumstantial at best, even if the timeline does somehow fit.” Angeal was ever the voice of reason, though his protest was met only with a soft sigh from Lazard before the monitor on the wall changed. 

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell any of you how far Professors Hojo and Hollander are willing to go when in the midst of an experiment, though I think you’ll agree that Projects S and G are radical, even for them.” Rufus was silent as Lazard did his best to explain, his probing gaze assessing the room. Leonhart was, as ever, unreadable, though a muscle twitched in his jaw from how tightly he grit his teeth. Under different circumstances, Rufus might have teased the man about breaking his jaw if he weren’t careful, but now wasn’t the time for levity.

“The remains found in the Northern Crater were not, as first suspected, those of an Ancient, but rather, from an alien who crash-landed on the planet millennia ago.”

Lazard clicked once more before a picture of the alien’s remains appeared on the screen, and a foreboding sense of dread permeated the room. “Jenova, a powerful specimen whose genetic structure we still have yet to fully understand. Its cells have been used in research experiments for over two decades now, and one fact is undeniable: each host that comes into contact with its cells becomes immensely more powerful.”

“I don’t like where this is going…,” Zack muttered quietly under his breath, though everyone heard it and silently agreed. 

“Project G, or Project Gillian as Professor Hollander dubbed it, exposed Jenova’s cells to a host, one Gillian Hewley–”

“What?!” Angeal’s eyes were as wide as saucers, disbelief coloring his tone. “You’re telling me my mother had something to do with Shinra and these so-called experiments?” 

“Of course, but you were not the only subject, Angeal,” Lazard answered him gently, knowing this sort of revelation would be… difficult to digest for a multitude of reasons. 

“Not the… only test subject?” Angeal furrowed his brows in confusion before he connected the dots and glanced at Genesis. 

Lazard let out a heavy sigh before pressing on. “Gillian’s cells were exposed to Genesis Rhapsodos as an infant; however, once Hollander determined no meaningful difference, he considered that particular experiment a failure.” 

Angeal winced at Lazard’s choice of words, though he knew something was amiss when Genesis’ shoulders began to quake. He fully expected an explosion of sorts, expected Genesis to lash out, but the man instead began to laugh, manically and loudly. “A failed experiment?!” Genesis demanded, slamming a fist onto the table, his laughter making way for the growl that spilled out of his mouth. 

“Genesis…,” Angeal tried to placate him with a hand on his shoulder, though the redhead dislodged his hand forcefully, the tension in his body growing further. 

“His assessment, not mine,” Lazard pointed out. “I cannot pretend to understand the nature of these experiments, but you have done nothing but exemplary work for SOLDIER, Genesis.”

The director’s words did little to quell Genesis’ growing fury. “Save you pity for someone else, director,” Genesis scoffed at Lazard’s meager attempts at pity or sympathy or whatever he thought he was providing. 

Angeal had grown quiet at Genesis’ side, contemplative even, and his hands clenched together as he stared up at the overhead monitor, his insides twisting themselves into knots. “And? That isn’t all, is it?” 

Lazard frowned at the tone of Angeal’s voice; no doubt he didn’t want the answer to his question, though now that he was being confronted with it, he couldn’t look away. Angeal was unflinching in that regard, and Lazard admired him for it even as he pitied him. “You, Angeal, were Hollander’s success. Being Gillian’s natural-born son enabled you to show results Hollander was looking for, but…” 

His voice trailed off, and the image on the monitor changed again. “Professor Hojo’s experiment was ultimately deemed the more successful of the two, which is why he now heads Shinra’s science department instead of Hollander. Instead of infusing a host with cells and exposing those cells to specimens, Hojo cut out the middle man. He directly injected Jenova’s cells into his colleague’s unborn child, and his results are inarguable.”

“Project S?” Genesis sneered, narrowing his eyes over at Sephiroth. “Who else could be the pinnacle of Shinra’s research but the almighty Sephiroth?” 

The man in question betrayed no emotion save for the subtle tightening of his fingers and the slight twitch at one of his temples. 

“Holy shit!” Zack reacted for him, his expression a mixture of disbelief and disgust. “Who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to inject alien cells into a baby? I mean, Seph’s okay, but for fuck’s sake! What is wrong with that asshole?” 

“I don’t think we’d have enough time to discuss what’s wrong with Hojo if we were here all night,” Cloud piped up, his arms crossed and his gaze down, though there was an unmistakable smile tugging at his mouth. 

His words made Angeal smile despite himself, and even Genesis snorted in amusement, the cloud of his anger finally beginning to dispel. 

“All night? We would have insufficient time were we to remain all week,” Sephiroth added glibly, and even Lightning chuckled at that, Squall’s lips twitching despite himself. 

“I know it’s a lot, and I apologize for dumping this on all of you, but there is, unfortunately, more to cover.” The room seemed to heave a collective sigh of exasperation, though no one offered any resistance to the idea. Angeal, however, did glance over at Sephiroth, concern furrowing his brows. Sephiroth inclined his head only once to indicate he was all right, though Angeal decided they’d have a talk about it later. A drink sounded like just what he needed right then, even if it was near-impossible to get drunk.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you all of the Nibelheim incident,” Lazard continued, the monitor’s image switching to a glimpse of the town and the reactor. Cloud tensed at the reminder, though Zack’s hand on his melted it away almost as easily as it had come. “Officially, there was an accident in the reactor, and one Cloud Strife and Zack Fair endured rather severe cases of mako poisoning. In all honesty, we weren’t sure you two would ever recover. Unofficially, however, Hojo engineered the accident to test another of his theories.”

“W-wait a sec,” Zack interrupted Lazard with a few, weak chuckles. “What exactly did he do to us? Because I don’t feel any different from before. Or, I don’t think so, anyway.” 

“What does Hojo do best?” Rufus answered lazily, as though nothing in this meeting was of particular interest or importance to him. “Injects his test subjects with Jenova cells, of course, though in your case, S-cells from our dear General here.” Sephiroth flinched at the revelation, and Cloud merely shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“From what we can tell, Zack, you were resistant to them given your  SOLDIER training and likely the mako infusions.” Zack breathed out a sigh of relief at that, though Cloud was holding his hands so tightly it was a wonder his bones hadn’t broken from the strain. “Cloud?” Zack whispered softly, laying a hand on his shoulder before the blond shrugged it off. 

“I say we storm up to the science lab and torture the little bastard for a few days,” Genesis offered, settling back in his chair. No doubt he considered wheeling it back even further to rests his ankles on the table, but such was rather unseemly for a meeting. 

“Because I’m sure Shinra would just love that,” Squall scoffed at the suggestion. No matter what horrors Hojo performed, all were things Shinra undoubtedly knew about and okayed before he set to work. After all, even a failed test subject could be a weapon against Shinra’s enemies.

“He’s right. If we touch Hojo you know they’d retaliate,” Lightning pointed out, much to Genesis’ annoyance. 

“How, exactly? In case either of you have forgotten, we’re the best fighters Shinra has.” 

“Did you forget the army of mechs they have in development? Or public security? Or all the SOLDIERs of second and third class they could throw at us?” Angeal snapped uncharacteristically, his lips thinning into a line. 

“As pleased as I am to see that we’re on the same page, there’s still one more matter to discuss. Lazard?” 

The spectacled man nodded as the image on the monitor shifted once more, though this time, it was a simple picture of a red sphere: summoning materia. “I’m sure you’re all aware that, while Shinra has been successful in replicating almost every type of materia, creating summoning materia remains out of our reach. Most have accepted as fact that it simply exists in nature, and there is no way to create it ourselves.” 

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Genesis proffered when Lazard took a moment to gather his thoughts. 

“It was believed that biologically engineering new summoning materia was a viable path, and so one of our scientists somehow managed to graft a summon’s consciousness onto a living being.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Zack muttered, and Angeal could only nod wordlessly, the idea in conjunction with everything else making him almost sick to his stomach. 

“As I’m sure you can imagine, this didn’t end well. The child was examined shortly after birth, and the experiment deemed another failure.”

“Until I lost control,” Lightning supplied, staring down at the table as numerous pairs of eyes landed on her. “I can take over from here, director. It’s my story, after all.” He nodded before Lightning swallowed and looked up with a renewed sense of determination. “The Turks watched me when I was kid, visited all the time, though I had no idea why. And then… the visions started, the dreams and nightmares. It was terrifying; some days I could barely tell if I was still awake or stuck in a nightmare. I could hear thoughts that weren’t mine, could recall things I’d never experienced; I almost felt stuck in someone else’s body, with access to someone else’s memories.” Her hand clenched suddenly, and her jaw trembled before she pressed on.

“I didn’t realize he wanted out so badly, or that I was the only obstacle in his way, but when he took over…I was just a puppet.”

“So what happened?” Cloud was the one to ask, neither judgment nor curiosity in his tone.

“The Turks weren’t enough to stop me, stop him, so they called in SOLDIER. If it weren’t for Auron, I’d’ve been locked up in Hojo’s lab after he’d subdued me. He’s the one who taught me control, who taught me how to look after myself, and Odin.” There was unmistakable shame in her downcast gaze; this was not a story she told often for obvious reasons. After hearing all the horrible things everyone else had gone through, though, she felt she deserved to be just as transparent. 

“So, he’s still there? Odin?” Zack asked gently, trying not to pry or let his eagerness show.

“All the time,” Lightning answered, slightly bemused by his caution. “If I focus, I can hear what he’s saying, but he gave up talking constantly in my ear a long time ago.” 

“Does he still take control?” 

Lightning blinked at the question Sephiroth posed, her lips pursing. “I won’t say it’s not a struggle sometimes. He can be an opportunistic bastard when he wants to be, but for the most part, we’re in sync. If something happened to me, we’re not sure what would happen to him, so it’s in his best interest to help if I’m in danger.”

“Must come in handy, having a summon at your command like that,” Genesis wondered aloud, though Lightning simply shrugged in response.

“I’d prefer to be alone with my thoughts,” Lightning answered drily, earning a few chuckles for her trouble. 

“So,” Squall began, looking back towards Rufus and Lazard. “Now that you’ve got all that in the open, what now?” 

“Now? Now we let you all consider. And once you come to the inevitable conclusion that Shinra needs to go, we’ll give you more of an idea of our plans,” Rufus responded simply. 

“And you’re just that confident we won’t expose you?” Squall asked pointedly, though Lazard and Rufus simply shared a look. 

“After all that you’ve just heard? I sincerely doubt it, mister Leonhart. Even if you don’t necessarily believe everything right now, it must be enough to give you pause; your own experiences within the company have likely been enough for that. But for now? No one’s going to be assigned before the week’s end, so take some time and think it over. Dismissed.”

Next Chapter ->

[elizaneals]

Eliza Neals new 2024 album “Colorcrimes” OUT NOW on Bandcamp

COLORCRIMES-Bluesville-RACK-OF-BLUES-5-25-2024

DEBUT #12 Rack-of-Blues 5/25/2024 THANK YOU SiriusXM Bluesville CH.75

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Blues Rock Review breaks the news on ELiza Neals new album “Colorcrimes” just what the world needs today!

Blues Rock Review just broke the News HERE

Eliza Neals new 2024 album “Colorcrimes” now on Pre-Order at Bandcamp.com drops MAY 24th Everywhere!

PRE ORDER NOW VIA BANDCAMP and get a copy of my latest single “Somethings Better than Nothing” along with the a copy in the mail the second it comes in!

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PRESS RELEASE HERE

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Eliza Neals, a modern blues-rock performer, has a powerful message on life that has been a long time coming. “Colorcrimes” was born on-stage to help people soothe their souls in this troubled world. The audience’s tearful reaction convinced her to record “Colorcrimes.” Eliza draws from a diverse group of musicians to capture lightening in a bottle every time.

“Colorcrimes” the album is riddled with stellar musicians and one iconic songwriter. Multiple Grammy winner, ‘Songwriter’ plus ‘Rhythm and Blues Hall of Fame’ inductee, Detroit’s late Barrett Strong Jr. who co-wrote three songs. Returning guitarist, co-producer and songwriter Michael Puwal is back with his outstanding genuine down-home slide playing. You too will find yourself not only searching for the truth in “Colorcrimes,” but your path will be strewn with real-life bluesy narratives drawn from the unbelievable times of “The Detroit Diva” Mrs. Eliza Neals.

Songs: Heal This Land (E. Neals, M. Puwal) 2:42 Banned In Jackson (E. Neals, M. Puwal, HJ) 3:40 Colorcrimes (E.Neals) 5:08 Something’s Better Than Nothing (B. Strong, E. Neals) 3:19 Love Dr. Love (E. Neals, B. Strong, B. Lord) 3:44 Sugar Daddy (B. Strong, E. Neals) 2:53 Candy Store (E. Neals, HJ) 2:53 Found Me Another (E. Neals) 3:37 Friday Night (All Day Long) (E. Neals, M. Puwal, HJ) 3:12

Eliza Neals – Vocals 1-9 / Piano 1-9 / Back Up 2-9 Michael Puwal (Cannon Ball Records) Guitar (1-4,7-9) Brian Lord (Mitch Ryder) Guitar – 5 Studio B Southfield MI Engineer King Solomon Hicks – Guitar, Backing Vocals – 6 Justin Headley (Damon Fowler) Drums – 2, 3 Steve Lacross, Drums – 9 Doug Woern, Bass – 2, 3, 9 Mark “Muggy Do” Leach (Buddy Miles) Hammond B3 – 2, 3 Tim Grogan (Desert Rose) Drums – 4, 5 Jason Kott (Robert Randolph) Bass – 4 Peter Keys (Lynyrd Skynyrd) Hammond B3 + Wurlitzer 200a – 4 Bobby Holland, Engineer Pentavarit Nashville TN – 4 Jeffery “Shakey” Fowlkes (Two Slim) Drums – 8 Luis Resto (Eminem) Clavichord, Piano, Horns – 5 Kamall Malak (Arrested Development) Bass – 5 Nick Haynes (MercyMe) Trumpet – 5 Chris Vega, Bass – 6 Tyrone Smith, Hammond B3, Saxophone – 6 Michael Galante, Drums – 6 Skeeto Valdez (King Konga) Drums – 7 Paul Randolph (Alice Cooper) Bass – 7 John Galvin (Molly Hatchet) Hammond B3 – 7 Kymberli Wright (Straight Ahead) backing vocals – 7 Eric Maluchnik, engineer – 7 Univox 1 Milton FL – Michael Puwal, Mixing Engineer – 1-9 SST Weehawken NJ – Billy Perez, Engineer – 6 Tempermill Ferndale MI – Dave Feeny, Master Engineer 1-9

Produced by Eliza Neals 1-9 Produced by Barrett Strong 4, 6 Co-Produced by Michael Puwal 1, 2 & 8, 9

Published by Elizabeth Thomasian Music (BMI) 1-9 Published by Univox1 (BMI) 1, 2, 9 Published by Not Sampled Music (BMI) 4, 5, 6 Published by Brian Lord 5

Executive Produced for E-H Records LLC

BB Kings BLUESVILLE CH.75 RACK-OF-BLUES CHART

DEBUT #12 on May 25th 2024

Week 2 #13 on June 1st 2024

Week 3 #6 on June 8th 2024

Week 4 #5 on June 15th 2024

Week 5 #5 on June 22nd 2024

Week 6 #4 on June 29th 2024

Week 7 #4 on July 6th 2024

Week 8 #7 on July 13th 2024

COLORCRIMES – Bluesville RACK OF BLUES 6-29-2024 #4

COLORCRIMES-Bluesville-RACK-OF-BLUES-6-15-2024 #5 TOP 15 Songs Worldwide

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AMAZON HOT NEW RELEASES

ELIZA NEALS “COLORCRIMES” TOP 10 Album for SIX weeks!

AMAZON HOT NEW RELEASES Eliza-Neals_Colorcrimes 5-31-24 #3

AMAZON HOT NEW RELEASES Eliza-Neals_Colorcrimes 5-27-24 #10

AMAZON HOT NEW RELEASES Eliza-Neals_Colorcrimes 6-25-24 #8

“COLORCRIMES” on Terresterial/Internet RADIO

[lyricsssdotin]

Jaan Lyrics

Singer:Barbie Maan, Shree BrarLyricist:Shree Brar No doubt! No doubt!No doubt! No doubt! Oh kaali teri mustang veBukke khet ch new holland veTainu ki load branda diJatt aape hi tu brand ve Bande oh tere khaas neJinna tu dare sarkar veIk dabb ch te dooja gaddi chDo do rakhde hathiyaar ve Oh teri jaan da dushman shehar saraTe tu jatti di jaan veHo teri jaan da dushman shehar saraTe tu jatti di…

[thetldrplace]

Sicily: An Island at the Crossroads of History. Ch. 12- Joseph and Joachim

The "Joseph" and "Joachim" the chapter title refers to are Joseph Bonaparte, Napoleon's brother, and Joachim Murat, his brother in law.  

In 1801 the French began pushing the Austrians out of northern Italy. King Ferdinand was under increasing pressure to return to Naples, him being, you know... the king and all.... but, being pissed at the Neapolitans for cheering the French invaders so quickly after they showed up, Ferdinand wanted nothing to do with Naples any longer. He did the next best thing to showing up himself and sent his son Francis and his wife Maria Clementina of Austria in his place.  

Since this part of "Sicilian" history concerns, as we have grown accustomed to, things happening off the island, I'll gloss over much of it.  

Napoleon was hard at work reorganizing governments of the new French republic, as well as governments in Italy, Holland, Germany, and Switzerland. He couldn't afford to continue hostilities with Britain. He then signed a treaty to withdraw from Naples. He sent his brother-in-law, Joachim Murat, to oversee the operation, and the Napoletani loved him. This dude was kind of a rock star- big flashy hair, smart uniforms, winning personality. Seriously, you need to look this guy up on wikipedia to see him. After the French left, Ferdinand no longer could put off returning to Naples.  

These years are a tedium of the same types of decisions made about "the kingdom of Sicily" by people who were not there, that has been a hallmark of Sicilian history. During this period, most of what concerned the kingdom of "Sicily" was, in fact, Naples, not the island of Sicily. 

After invading northern Italy, Napoleon proclaimed himself King of ALL Italy; he declared the kingdom of Naples to be no more, and sent his brother Joseph to rule there. Ferdinand split and went back to Sicily, but Napoleon shelved a French invasion of the island.  

The Sicilians by now understood that Ferdinand was a man-child who saw their land as nothing more than "a hunting reserve and occasional funk hole." Once again, most of the administrative posts had gone to Napoletani, leaving the Sicilian noble's sons out in the cold. Had Napoleon and the French invaded, they might not have met much resistance. 

Ferdinand, in the meantime, looking around for some French enemies strong enough to hold them off and protect Sicily, had invited the British to defend the island. The English not only took over the defense, but most everything else too. They also pumped a fair amount of money into the economy, which brought them no small amount of acceptance from the islanders. How to win friends and influence people? Money talks, amirite?

In Naples, Joseph had begun well enough with implementing Napoleon's reforms, but soon enough, Napoleon offered him the juicier post of the Spanish crown. Joseph duly left and Joachim Murat was chosen to take over the lesser Naples, which he and his wife considered beneath them.  

The TL;DR version of this chapter of Sicilian history: Sicily was the place the King of Naples escaped to, when he had to flee Naples. Since the French didn't want to invade the island, Ferdinand could safely stick his tongue out at the French and yell neener-neener-neener at them. The English were there and made things better for a bit. 

[newmusicradionetwork]

Honky-Tonk Country Traditionalist Ben Fugate &; The Burning Trash Band Announce New Self-Titled EP

Honky-tonk country traditionalist and Appalachian singer-songwriter Ben Fugate & The Burning Trash Band are excited to announce their new eight song self-titled EP from Louisville-based sonaBLAST! Records, due out on Friday, April 12. Leading up to that release date, the Eastern Kentucky sextet will release the EP’s first two singles, a rerecording of Fugate’s signature song “Dream Song #1” on February 09, followed by the quirky tale of running into the law on “County Fuzz” on March 08, the latter which Fugate is planning to shoot his first ever music video for. “This album is a big departure from my garage days with just one mic,” said Fugate. “We aimed to reflect our unique sound, while drawing inspiration from country legends, and I believe we’ve captured that essence!” Proudly hailing from Hazard, Kentucky, Fugate first began amassing a sizable following on his Tik Tok channel in 2020 by just simply singing a number of classic country and southern rock song favorites, along with a few of his originals. In 2021 Fugate released his debut EP by Sonder House, Pronounced Appa-Latch-Uh, where the title track has garnered more than 100,000 spins on Spotify, firmly solidifying a growing interest among his listeners and fans. In 2021, Fugate was discovered by Louisville-based Entrepreneur, Community Organizer, Filmmaker and sonaBLAST! Records founder Gill Holland. Holland, who has played a role in the musical careers of other Kentucky recording artists like Jack Harlow and Ben Sollee, also saw the raw, natural talent in the Appalachian country songwriter and invited him to Louisville’s La La Land recording studio to bring his self-written song-tales to pristine audio perfection. Record release shows planned throughout Kentucky in Louisville, Hazard & Harlan: Fugate and his band will celebrate the release of the new EP with a series of shows in Kentucky. The first will be on Thursday, April 11, 7 pm ET at The Monarch Music & Arts Community (1318 Bardstown Rd., Louisville), and then on Friday, April 12, 8 pm ET at the VFW Post #7387 (1700 N Main Street, Hazard) in his hometown of Hazard. The following week they’ll perform on April 20 at Harlan County Beer Company (120 E. Central St., Harlan). Admission is Free and open to the public for these events. “I’m thrilled to host these release shows in my hometown, Harlan and Louisville,” Fugate said. “Both Hazard and Louisville have been pivotal in our success, so it feels only fitting to bring the celebration to where it all began for us!” Tracklisting & Songwriters: 1. “Dream Song #1” (Ben Fugate, Kevin Howard) - “Til’ Death Do Us Part” (Ben Fugate) - “County Fuzz” (Ben Fugate, Kevin Howard) - “Take Your Love” (Ben Fugate) - “Lovesick Over You” (Ben Fugate) - “Impossible” (Ben Fugate) - “Tick’s Blues” (Derek Mullins) - “Dream Song #2” (Ben Fugate, Kevin Howard) EP name: Self-titled Audio release date: April 12, 2024 Video release date: April TBA (“County Fuzz”) Audio producer: Anne Gauthier at La La Land Studios; Justin Perkins at Mystery Room Mastering Pre-Save/Buy/Stream: onerpm.link/282416597085 Shows + Promotional Appearances: FEB 17 – 123 Pleasant St. / Morgantown, W.V. MAR 09 – Pat’s Snack Bar / Manchester, Ky. APR 11 – WAVE Country with Dawn Gee appearance (WAVE-TV) / Louisville, Ky. APR 11 – The Monarch Music & Arts Community / Louisville, Ky. APR 12 – VFW Post #7387 / Hazard, Ky. APR 20 – Harlan County Beer Company / Harlan, Ky. ** Ben’s most up-to-date show and appearance schedule also available on his BandsInTown About Ben Fugate: Ben Fugate is the product of many things: the rural Southeastern Kentucky landscape he calls home, the belting of gospel vocals behind shoddy guitar amplifiers at the Pentecostal church he spent most Sundays, and the hardships that come with being a young adult in a town he loves, which both time and the rest of the world have seemingly passed by. Ben chose the path of music from an early age, donning the famous studded apparel of Elvis Presley and impersonating at his family gatherings as a young boy, playing Lynyrd Skynyrd songs to an amphitheater of his high school peers in talent shows, and forming his first band after graduation, spending all his time in a sweltering garage with his buddies coming up with melodies and singing every John Mellencamp song he knew. The influences Ben draws from, range greatly. From the high twanged vocal acrobatics of The Osborne Brothers, or the heart-tugging slow country warbles of Vern Gosdin. The influence of Joe Diffie, Hank Williams, Keith Whitley, George Jones, Travis Tritt, Bob Seger, Eagles, and Charlie Daniels are all evident in the music that Ben makes. However, he understands that he’s not those influences, but like any great artist, Ben is merely a vessel that channels all the great emotional highs and lows across the vast history of country music and makes them his own. This is before accounting for his equally incredible group, The Burning Trash Band, a band of music vets who always display their tight guitar work and clock-like rhythm section both in shows and in the booth. Ben Fugate and The Burning Trash Band have only been a collective for a few years, and they have been constantly working towards honing their sound, adjusting melodies and delivery, and obsessively messing with tone. What Ben and his band of honky-tonk heroes seek to achieve is none other than their own perfect vision of what country music is to them. And with every show, every record, every practice, every lyric, and every broken guitar string, they come that much closer. Read the full article