#officer klein my beloved.....

[literally-a-waffle-fry]

All because of a briefcase...(red oktoberfest/ heavy x medic fic)

(This is based on this post. Thanks for the idea! I had so much fun writing it!

My name is  François, more commonly known as ze Blu spy. One day, when I was tasked with infiltrating the Red team's base, I was captured by the old, psychopathic man that the Red team called their medic. His name is Dr. Ludwig, he is the one who caught me in their base. Once I was held captive by Ludwig, and their soldier Jane interrogated me, the doctor had cut my head off and used me in one of his sick experiments.

  And now? Here I am. my utterly, and unfortunately, my own defenseless head is lying on a shelf inside his fridge. And I'm still alive.

"Oh! Herr klein spy!~ it is time for your feeding!" Ludwig exclaimed as he opened the door to the fridge. He picked me up and I sighed in annoyance.

"Kill me." I say In desperation to be torn away from this cruel reality.

"Nein! Zhat would ruin zhis entire experiment! Besides, nobody at your base even misses you anyway!" the old man cooed as he held up a jar that had German writing. Due to me having some knowledge of German, I read that it was "beef and gravy baby food."

"Are jou ready to be fed, Herr spy?~" the doctor giggled as he shook the jar in my face.

"You wouldn't dare feed me that!" I spat in his face and grimaced.

The German man howled in laughter before he set me down onto his desk that was covered in stacks of neatly written notes and paperwork.

"But I really would!" Giggled the man as he popped open the jar. As he opened the jar, the disgusting smell had hit my senses, and I gagged. This made the man chuckle demonically as he grinned widely. The smile of the lunatic almost made me shiver in fear. I always hated doctors, especially the insane ones.

All of a sudden, the door to the infirmary opened. The teams heavy weapons specialist, Misha, had walked in and looked at Ludwig warmly as he waved before his eyes widened at the sight of my humiliating position.

"Ummm..." Misha faltered as he began questioning Ludwig.

"Oh meine Leibe! You couldn't have had better timing! Would you mind helping me with something?" Ludwig chirped as made pleading eyes with the large, Russian man.

"Da! I'm always happy to help doktor. What does Ludwig want help with?" Misha inquired as he walked towards where the Medic was standing.

Medic sat in his office chair and spun around, facing the Spy. He then stuck the spoon in the sustenance before waving the full spoon in my baclava covered face. "Here comes ze airplane!~" Ludwig wickedly smiled and almost made his voice sound completely saccharine. Almost as if he were actually a sweet loving mother who was feeding her beloved child.

I held my mouth as tightly as I could as the doctor almost jammed the spoon against my lips.

"Eat it! Eat it, you Dummkopf!" The medic almost screamed.

"Doktor, let me hold spy mouth open." Misha chuckled before he picked me up and smiled almost as sinisterly as Ludwig before forcefully opening my jaws. His grip was so tight that I was completely helpless, and my mouth was wide open. I almost gagged as the Medic slid the first spoonful into my mouth.

My eyes shut in disgust, and Misha had forced his hand over my mouth. I shivered lightly before swallowing the disgusting food.

"Good spy!~" Ludwig cooed in a revolting manner as he fed me another spoon. An then another. And another.

"Zhere! All done! Now, I can get to monitoring you and perform some more experiments! I wonder if you'd   Medic clapped and giddily grabbed his clipboard that had some sort of medical document. He began checking my headbase and nodding and murmuring his results lightly to himself.

"Doktor.." Misha had interrupted, causing Ludwig to turn toward his lover.

"Yes, my dear beärchen?" Medic cooed at his lover before Misha embraced him.

I rolled my eyes at the men. how could they dare do this in front of me! I'll make sure to backstab them harshly once I am released.

"I missed Doktor...has been so busy lately. Please take a break?" Misha pleaded with Ludwig. "I wanted to spend time with you, you haven't even been eating or sleeping recently doktor, that is not good." Misha whimpered as gave Ludwig a sad glance and Ludwig felt pity. Not pity for himself, but because his dear boyfriend was so concerned for him.

"I'm sorry Herr Misha...I've been so focused on zhis breakthrough for days now. But it's so interesting! Imagine the power I could have! The ability to keep anybody alive, especially without their head! It breaks all known science and!-"

"Doktor." Interrupted Misha. "You need break." The giant said sternly before grabbing the German roughly and slinging him over his shoulder.

"H-Heavy! Misha! Put me down zhis instant! Right now I tell you !" Ludwig yelped as he squirmed and thrashed, but he was no match for Misha's strength.

I laughed at the old man's yelling before he stared at me angrily.

"Stop laughing! Zhis isn't funny!" Ludwig scowled as he heard Misha laugh as well. "I mean it! Misha! I'll have your head next if you don't!-" Ludwig was cut off by Misha, who was now settling him on the couch in the Infirmary.

"Nyet. You know you never could. You love me too much." Misha teased, which resulted in Ludwig rolling his eyes. I also hissed in revoltion.

"Why don't you two just go ahead and make sweet love to each other while I'm here?" I say sarcastically.

"Oh! Zhat doesn't sound like a bad idea.." Ludwig glaces at Misha, who is now blushing. "Vhat happened? Are you too shy now?" Ludwig moved to whisper in his lovers' ears.

Misha must have heard enough when he pressed his lips to Ludwigs and grabbed his hand tightly.

"Nyet. I am never too shy for doktor." Misha purred as he began bludgeoning his partner with kisses, which made the other squeal in delight.

I wrinkle my face in disgust and attempt to shake my head.

"Stop it! Just put me back in ze damned fridge! I've had enough!" I scream.

"Really? Alright....back to your cage!" Medic laughs before he opens the fridge door and settles me next to a plated sandwich that had a note that said "Ludwig ♡"

"Vhat? Who put zhis here?" Ludwig glances at it confusedly before he realizes. "Bärchen? D-did you put this here?" Ludwig stuttered out of confusion and being flustered.

"Da! Is for you! Misha wants doktor to eat more, isn't healthy to skip meals." Misha responded. "Try it. It is good sandvich, not like kind we have in battle." Misha adds before he picks up the sandwich and holds it to his lover's lips. "Eat."

"Oh! Why danke Misha but!-" Ludwig stammered before the sandwich was shoved in front of his mouth. Ludwig took a bite and chewed.

"Oh...zat is actually very gut." Ludwig quietly whispered.

"Good. You finish sandwich. Then come with me. We will sleep together tonight. Will be warm and we can cuddle."

"Oh! Vell!-"

"Just close the door." I growled and eyed the heavy angrily.

The door slammed shut, almost making me fall off of the shelf as the fridge shook. I was now in my dark, cold prison. But it was much better than whatever hell I just had to witness.

[sodistinctlyhuman]

2, 3, 4, 17 ^_^

thank you thank you!! i am having Too much fun with these idk if you can tell aaah ^^

2. Favourite season

this one is very hard!!! i always seem to go back to s3 - it's got a lot of really sweet ray bradbury-esque short plots but with the perfect amount of buildup for the rest of the plot,,, chef's kiss

straight up though the dialogue in s6 so far??? it is unmatched. ive cried so much over this series and it's Great

3. Favourite "Resident of the Week"

OFFICER KLEIN OFFICER KLEIN i think abt u every day (ep. 36 - Dissonance)

this guy faced down an eldritch horror and died for it but he was so Composed despite the definite fear like all the respect my guy! i like how he kinda went yeah sure flamethrower good at sayer's suggestion he really left an impact <3

4. Favourite AI

pain. speaker-sayer-future are all soso compelling to me in vastly different ways. uhh for this one i will go with the eponymous guy

i really do talk about SAYER too much i think. but also SAYER is something that can be so personal to me like i would throw it all away for it to think im kinda cool. it's so funny like it's so full of itself but then it turns around when a resident is in peril and is like. yikes that was kind of wild don't you think? anyway good luck. it's hilarious. i want SAYER to experience good things i want it to be crushed under the weight of an intense emotional experience. i want to hold its proverbial hand i want to put it in a blender. incredible character. adam bash talks about SAYER's hallmark being that while it's morally questionable It Will Never Lie to You and it is transcendent character design. effervescent

17. Roadtrip with all the main characters! Who do you hand the aux cord to, who gets to drive, who brings the snacks, who's responsible for navigating?

ooh i did this once but i stuck in anna like she was a main character because i Can't Read

other than that though most of my points stay the same! observe

- SPEAKER is the navigator! speaker can drop incredibly lyrical turns of phrase but it knows how to get down to business and just give you what you need. also it is great at giving advance landmarks and turn warnings i am sure of this

- FUTURE is the DJ! what will it play???? no one knows it pivots between every single genre and it is whiplash every time. future goes from toxic by britney spears to maybe by the ink spots to tchaikovsky to nightcore and its delightful but also you are Not getting any sleep in this car

- SAYER is driving because it needs a humbling experience. yes. directly keep us all safe and get us to our location. experience the frustration of rush hour. my beloved. ilu

- Jacob can bring the snacks because i imagine he is pretty practical about portability while still retaining, like, taste. he does bring water and he also does bring pringles and beef jerky. but he also drops stuff by accident so either he needs a gyrobowl or we have to keep stopping to use the pay vacuums

[mcx7demonbros]

The Fall of America Pt. 1

Ft. Klein, Lucifer, Leviathan

This story and characters appearing in it are fictitious. Certain long-standing institutions, agencies, and public offices are mentioned, but the characters involved are wholly imaginary.

Inspired a tiny bit by Designated Survivor.

Summary: the U.S plans to destroy all evils, with the help of the Heroes. So Klein decides to destroy them first.

Note: The Sailor event (current event at the time I write this) doesn’t give Levi what he’s deserved as the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. So I’m gonna write some of his admiral moment, according to my imagination.

February 13, 20XX

Today, President Harris, the 50th President of the United States of America, will give his State of the Union Address, which is actually his first since he took office last year in June, after the assassination of his much beloved predecessor, President Smith, the 49th President of the United States of America, by the villainous secret society Blue Rose.

Today, the President intends to address to the Congress about the Villains, intending to employ the help of the Heroes to wipe out all villains in the U.S, starting with the Blue Rose.

Unbeknown to the President, however, that this’s going to be his very last day in office and this world. The day that marks the downfall of the U.S.

On the East Coast of the U.S, to the east of the states Maryland and Delaware, a large warship appears, far enough from the land to not be seen by normal people.

The strange thing is that the U.S Navy do nothing about the ship. They don’t even know there’s this warship within U.S’s sea territory.

Inside the war ship,

“The Führer is entering.” A soldier in black uniform announces. All soldiers inside the room stand up. There are two kinds of soldiers here. One, the cyborg soldiers under Klein, they dress in all black, covering even their faces, the soldier who just announced Klein’s arrival is one of them. The others are Grand Admiral Leviathan’s sailors, belonging to the Hell’s Navy.

Klein enters the room, followed by Lucifer and Leviathan, both in their demon forms and donning their military uniforms, with all the decorations attached on their left breast. Klein is the odd one of the three, he doesn’t wear a uniform, he never has to since he doesn’t belong to any military force or order. The Evil Overlord’s most distinguished attire is his long white hoodie, which he uses to cover half of his face. He always wanted to be and now is a mysterious big bad.

There’s a table with three chairs in the middle of the room, making it look like a conference room. Klein sits on the chair in the middle, Lucifer takes the one on his right, Grand Admiral Leviathan takes the one on his left.

After all the “Big Three” have sat down, a demon sailor goes up, bows to Klein, Lucifer and the Grand Admiral. He then uses magic to create a projection, showing a map, which, in turn, shows the location of the ship and Washington D.C with Capitol Hill, along with other cities and lands.

“We are currently right here, 10 nautical miles from the U.S’s baseline, within the country’s territorial sea.” The demon points at the map.

“Our ship is equipped with magic-powered demon missiles. We will use two of them to attack the Capitol Hill.”

“Can we use four?” Klein asks. “I want to make sure they can’t fight back too soon.”

“Then we will send two missiles to the Pentagon.” Leviathan stands up, gets to the map and begins to explain the routes of the missiles.

“We will also have Lucifer put Blind Curse on the missiles, which will make them undetected, until they are right at their doors.” Leviathan continues to explain.

“Alright, I leave everything in your capable hands, Admiral. The fate of villainous factions in U.S, including my Black Cross Army U.S Branch, depends on the success of this operation.”

“You will not be disappointed, my Führer.” Leviathan bows.

“The Address has begun.” A cyborg soldier salutes Klein and reports.

A magical screen is created, which allows them to watch LIVE the address of President Harris.

“I’m sure than everyone still remembers the day our much beloved President Smith, was killed by the Villains, just last June. My predecessor spent his whole life to fight for freedom, for justice, for everything that’s right, for The United States of America and everything She stands for. The Villains assassinated him because they are against American values, they made America their enemy. But I tell you, they have chosen the wrong side, we will fight back and we will win. We will employ men and women with good morals, gifted with newly-discovered special abilities,…”

Leviathan turns to look at Klein, his eyes telling his Master that he’s very tired of the speech already and he just wants to fire the damn missiles to blow up the government.

“Not yet.” Klein says.

“AMERICA WILL WIN.” President Harris says solemnly on the screen. Everyone in the room begins to stand up and claps for him.

“Alright, fire!”

“Fire the missiles!” Leviathan’s voice is loud, clear, but cold.

At the Pentagon, people are watching the LIVE Address of President Harris, but everyone is alert, prepared for an attack.

“Huh, there’s something on the radar.”

“What?”

“It’s four missiles. Two heading towards us.”

“Wh…”

“It’s too late, they’re already in front of our door.”

“Hitting the targets in 3, 2, 1…”

Levi doesn’t even sit, he stands so he could act faster if there’s complication. Not until 0 can he be assured and sit down.

“0…”

KA-BOOM BOOM

“What’s that sound?”

“Why is my TV no longer working?…”

“That…that…Capitol Hill is…is…”

Seeing the Capitol getting blown up, many Americans can’t even stand anymore. They knelt to the ground in defeat.

“God, what’s happening?”

“This shall be the signal for the end of American democracy. Muahahaha.” Klein laughs, raising his Demonus glass up. Lucifer did the same, equally amused.

“Forgive me, Führer. But we need to make sure the enemy’s remaining forces are also defeated.”

“You’re right, Admiral. You have my approval.”

Levi bows and turns to his soldiers.

“SAILORS!” Levi uses a voice spell so all could hear him.

“All of American Navy and Coast Guard bases, annihilation!”

Suddenly got an inspiration and wrote this.

The Black Cross Army under Klein has nothing to do with Christianity or satanism or the like. It takes after the name of the main villain group in Himitsu Sentai Gorenger series. Same with Klein’s title as Führer, nothing about Fascism or Hitler.

There will be a part 2.

Yeah, Lucifer was just there without saying or doing anything much. The eldest will play a bigger role in part 2. He loves Klein so much that he’s there just to protect his fav evil overlord.

Please consider reblog if you read till the end.

Levi appeared in the game’s screen right after I finished this part. He appreciated my work (*≧∀≦*)

[seeds-and-sins]

Right Time, Wrong Place.

Pairing: John Seed x Reader

Rating: M (SMUT!! & Language)

Description: You take over John Seed’s ranch, have some me time in his bed, only to find that he was watching the whole thing on his secret security cameras.

Update 06/14/2024: Thinking about posting this to AO3 and doing a continuation. I'll keep you all updated.

Tagged: @ivyluv

      You had wanted revenge and you were determined to get it. It was as simple as that. Granted, capturing John Seed's Ranch was just another box ticked for the resistance effort's chances of winning back Hope County. But for you? it was personal. The man stuffed you in a chair, tortured your best friend, and threatened to cut into your skin. To make matters worse, he looked like a whole damn meal while doing it. Speaking to you in that sinfully deep and rumbling tone that made you wet beyond imagine. Fuck that son of a bitch. Whoever stuffs you in a chair, tortures your friend, and threatens to cut you, loses their ranch. That's the deal, and it's final.

His response:

So. You've taken my home in the name of your little "Resistance." Ah, if those walls could talk... well, more accurately scream... Just know that I will get it back - sooner or later. And when I do, maybe I'll hang your skin as a trophy above the mantle.

    You raided John's secret wine cellar later that day, laughing your ass off over the recollection of irritation in John's voice. All it took was a little push to send the man snapping into rage and oblivion.

   You invaded all of John's privacy; following the wine cellar, came his office, following the office, came his kitchen, and then his own room. Everything was so neat and organized, the man didn't have one thing out of place. It was a testament in comparison to his unruly image when he would lose a few screws in agitation. His clothes were folded to perfection, placed into his drawers by color, style, or brand. For the clothes that weren't in his drawers, they were in his walk in closet: Gucci, Calvin Klein, Tom Ford O'Conner, and Brioni. The man was a walking advertisement, from his sunglasses to his shoes. You were certain that the outfit you had seen him in last costed about the same as your car in total. And now you had full access to everything...

"What the FUCK is she doing?!" John fumed, pacing back and forth in front of security monitors that lined the wall of his bunker office.

"Sir, we are doing everything we can-"

"Get out!" He demanded, bloodshot eyes settling on the screen, sweat beading down his forehead, as he watched you demolish his personal space. The bunker door shut behind him with an audible plank and he sunk back into a leather seat with a sigh of exasperation. You were driving him absolutely crazy, waltzing around his home as if it was your own, with his most expensive bottle of chardonnay no less.

    You were throwing pictures off the walls, moving furniture around, and wrecking his entire wardrobe with your slimey fingers. He was under distress simply watching it all unfold before his eyes. The massacre, the trauma, his beloved ranch was being destroyed. What would Joseph think of him right now? So distraught over the material pleasures that he had collected for himself over the years. They were really all he had anymore, aside from his family and the project. You were disrespecting him, but it's not like you hadn't before. Countless times you had undermined him for the sake of your little act as hero, nothing he hadn't gotten used to these past few weeks. He enjoyed the game of cat and mouse, the playful chase, but this? This was personal...

*Uh yeah so, Sharky and I are having a big bonfire out by the henbane. Some of the others will be there, you coming?*

"No thanks, Hurk..." You replied with a proud smile on your lips, fiddling with the many cologne bottles that flooded John's dresser. "I think I'll stay here. I'm enjoying myself."

*Well, that's-* Hurk was interrupted on the other end by the familiar voice of a pyromaniac on steroids. *Is that the deputy?! Tell her to get her ass over here, now, so we can start this party.* There was minor shuffling on the other end, the radio clicked out a few times as if it was being wrestled for. *Give it, man!-Stop that!* You chuckled at the image of Hurk and Sharky fighting over a walkie talkie in the middle of the batshit woods. You laughed at what Hurk Sr. was probably thinking of the whole ordeal as he watched from his porch.

"Alright boys, well, I'm staying here for the night so, catch ya' later." You immediately switched the frequency, dropping it down onto the dresser. You collected the bottle of wine you had discarded in John's wardrobe, taking long gulps of it as you took note of his belongings. The entire place smelled like him. You had only caught a whiff once before, when he was devastatingly close to you as his captive, but it was enough to recognize the hints of sharp Dior, new shoes, and rose. The man was a sin in the flesh and he knew it all too well, recruiting to the cult hundreds of people that most certainly lusted after him in private. He would have had a hold on you if he had not been pressing a scalpel to your throat. Or sending off a bunch of red flags with that psychotic glimmer in his eyes.

   You could imagine though, fuel your darkest desires and daydreams as you stormed his castle. The wine helped, you had gone through half of the bottle as you adventured and you were starting to feel its effects. In your dreams, John was your lover. He was still a lawyer with the same successful edge and fortune to boot. He wasn't a crazy lunatic, following a bunch of other crazy lunatics. He was a man that fought for true justice, just as you had. And now, you were waiting for him to come home. You nearly dropped the bottle in your intense reverie. You carried the bottle into John's giant bathroom, you placed it on the edge of the tub, and turned the water on.

   The grime stuck to you from the day's events, the mud had caked on, gunpowder dusting your face, and blisters, cuts and bruises, scattered across your body. For a moment, it brought you back into the harsh reality that you were in a war zone. That John was a dangerous man and that you were utilizing his home like some sort of fun house. You shook the thoughts of blood and violence from your mind, derobing yourself of the dirty clothes and weapons that hung from you. When the water was high enough, you turned it off, dropping one of John's assorted bath bombs into it and waiting a few seconds for the soap to take. You couldn't remember the last time you had taken a bath and John's bathtub was about the size of a hottub.

   You were in the bliss, the warm water engulfed your aching muscles and damaged flesh without hesitation, welcoming you into a trance of tranquility and calm. No bullets. No explosions. No expectations. Just you and this bath. Your mind wandered again as you rested in the lapping liquid, dirt and all sorts of substances leaving you like a weight being lifted off your chest. You could fantasize about John again, get back into the dream world you had created for yourself as you explored his home-correction-as you waited for John Seed to come home from his job as Hope County's trustworthy, kind, and loving lawyer.

    You lathered yourself with all sorts of special products that John kept perched on the tub's edge. You took fluid swigs from the nearly empty bottle of wine every now and again, until you decided you were clean enough. John could be home any minute after all. You stepped out of the tub, pulled the plug on the drain, and left the bathroom into the closet again. Not without what was left of the wine, of course. He would want to see you in something appealing on the eyes, something that would tease him and draw him in from a long day of exhausting work. You could massage his taut shoulders, fingers moving down over those rippling muscles.

   You settled for an expensive silk blue button up, no need for underwear with no one around. The button up was slightly open at the top, not that you'd be expecting any company-aside from John, that was. You flicked the light off and the room cascaded in darkness, aside from the moonlight that drew in through the blinds. John would enjoy seeing you like this. You jumped onto the bed, so big and comfy. The pillows seemed to swallow you with their fluff, douvet and all, tracing along your curves and exposed thighs. You adjusted so that your head was propped back and you were comfy, legs parted as you closed your eyes and sunk further into the dream you had created.

   If John was normal, he would be gentle and soft. He would run his fingers down you when he arrived upon your shared bedroom. He would whisper sweet nothings into your ear as his dirty hands came over every bit of flesh on your body. He would seek your pleasure first, attend to your needs and wants, because you would look, Oh, so sinful. It was almost like you could hear his voice in your mind. He wasn't yelling at you. He was whispering to you, begging for everything that your body could give him. He would praise you like the God he worshipped, settle on his prayer voice when he spoke to you and made the filthiest promises.

You want me to do this to you, don't you? Touch you like this? Spread you like this?

"Yes," You mewed, you wanted him so bad. "Please."

...

"Dear, sweet mother of-" John choked out, face nearly sinking straight through the computer screen and he leaned in as close as possible. He was so close that the static was barely tugging at the thick hairs of his beard. "Fuck me." He was straining in his jeans watching you get so comfy in his home. He wished he could hear you, cursing himself for not having installed more advanced cameras, as Jacob had suggested months ago. Thank the lord they were hidden from sight. Thank the lord that he had the opportunity to see you so vulnerable.

   He bit his bottom lip nervously. What would Joseph say? Giving into sin like a moth to the flame. His eyes flitted over to the walkie talkie that sat on the desk. It was begging to be used, begging for John to do something that was reckless and sinful and dirty and everything he could be punished for if he tried. He groaned as he watched your hand finally reach its destination, your eyelids fluttering shut as you rubbed gently along your folds. The black and grey could only give away so much in this darkness. The night vision feature only worked to such an extent. Even so, John couldn't tear his eyes away. You were in HIS bed, in HIS clothes, after taking a bath with products that smelled like HIM. You were practically his at this point. All his.

...

    You were so close, thinking about John, about his fingers on you, about his cock inside of you, about his lips passing over every deeply intimate spot on your body. You could feel the edge coming for you, as his scent penetrated you, as you felt the silk of his shirt against your nipples. You cried out. So close.

"Oh, John, fuck." You were alone, filled with careless abandon, delving deeper into this madness that was him. You were a second away from the most explosive orgasm you had had in weeks.

*Deputy...* You paused, feeling a cold sweat fall over you at the coo. Your eyebrows furrowed as you sat up on your elbows, eyes landing on the discarded walkie talkie that you had left on the dresser. You worried at your bottom lip in frustration. You were so fucking close. *I know you are there. Speak to me.* You should ignore him. But how could anyone ignore John when he sounded like that: desperate, disheveled, and hot. He sounded so hot and sweet. You dropped back into the pillow with a grunt, thinking that you could turn the radio off and be through with these constant disturbances. *Please.* Desperate, disheveled, hot. So hot.

   In one swoop, you jumped off the bed and attained the radio. You drew it up to your lips with a huff, fists clenched from the sheer rage that was building in you.

"What the fuck do you want, John? If this isn't about the negotiated release of Hudson, then I don't want anything to do with you." You waited for John's response, as it was suddenly very quiet on his end. Usually he spoke more, teased you more, threatened you more. Heck, just earlier he said he would get you back.

*This isn't about that.* His tone was of venom and annoyance now, which only sought to make you more irritated.

"Then, I don't see there being any reason to continue talking with you."

*Wait!* He sounded strained, as if she had broken him. *I can think of a few reasons.* Of course, he wants his house back. Poor fellow. You rushed and plopped back down onto the bed, a bright grin appearing on your lips.

"Oh John, Oh John," You taunted, feeling like you should run a victory lap for your achievement. Instead, you enveloped yourself in all of John's wealth and money. "Have I affected you in some kind of way?" Silence. "Little ole'me, in your home, all comfy in your bed, using your things. Sounds like I have gotten to you." The strangled groan that was relayed over the radio went straight between your legs. You had heard John groan out his irritation before and although this sounded slightly different, you hadn't thought anything of it. It wouldn't hurt to continue what you were doing before John's interruption. God knows you were still so close thinking about him. He didn't need to know.

*You must have it all wrong, Deputy. The idea of you taking pleasure in my belongings brings a smile to my face.* The playful back and forth was a favorite of yours, you wouldn't lie. You never quite had the same interactions as you did with Jacob and Faith, both of whom would often ignore your jests completely. John reacted, he would give you his utter attention every time you entered his region. You bathed in that sort of acknowledgement. You were now on the path of admitting that it kind of got you off: hearing his frustrations, hearing him coo, hearing him reciprocate every remark you gave him.

He liked it too. You knew he liked it.

"I'm such a bad sinner, aren't I?" You closed your eyes, free hand now coming down to the place you needed it most. A new fantasy had taken root, of John pleasuring himself as he spoke to you, getting off on your voice, off on his fantasies of you. On any other night, you couldn't imagine him breaking Joseph's rules to do such a thing. But tonight you wanted to imagine everything about John. He would be fisting his cock to the sound of you disobeying him at every turn, speaking into the radio, every word you spoke he clung to like a last breath. Tonight, you imagined him doing this, being sinful and breaking the rules in your honor. He would be relieving the tension that plagued you both for so long in his mind. He was no longer the sweet and gentle husband, coming home from work. He was the filthy, dirty, lusty lawyer that was your enemy, grasping for a chance to get you alone, so he could have you to himself.

*I should punish you...* You moaned at the pit of your throat, making sure he couldn't hear by removing your finger from the button. You were going to cum to the sound of John's voice and he didn't even know it. It was mildly empowering, feverish, and naughty, all at the same time. *I should tie you down and make you pay for all the wrongs you've committed. Make you confess all of your deepest, darkest secrets.*

"Oh, fuck." You heaved out, not having expected him to blindly play into this raunchy game of yours. The image of him, drowning in your conversations over the radio, as he milked his thick cock, flooded your mind. His button-up would be fully undone to reveal the mess of sweaty abs and tattoos across his torso. His hair would be falling out of its gelled, angelic perfection as strands drifted across his half-lidded eyes. The veins in his forearms would be bulging as he utilized his strength to work at the stress you caused him, in the form of a hard erection. You swore you heard him release some sort of sound from the other side of the radio. You hadn't quite been in the right state of mind to respond, but you were desperate to keep him talking.

"Tell me, John. You make all these promises and you don't keep them." You hadn't expected your words to come out so smoothly, what with your fingers now penetrating you just the way you liked. "If you wanted to punish me so bad, tie me down and make me confess, then you'd have me right this very second."

*I could, Deputy.* He shot out, all breathless and choppy. It only made your imagination run even wilder, that he might be doing what you were thinking he would doing. But he couldn't really be doing that, could he? *All I need to do is say one word and I can have you yanked from my bed in no time.* The thought of him sending in a team to come fetch you was about to do you in. The though of him wasting resources, time and energy, all so that he could alleviate his personal desires. You were about to cum so hard for him, so hard just by listening to his every word. You thought it was over, like his radio would go silent and that would be the end of it all. *But I much prefer it this way...* There was a hint of something deeply sinister in the low growl he spoke in. You wanted more of it, more of him. Your back arched up, and your finger slid over the button unbeknownst to you. He could hear the spill of moans and cries that were building up to the ultimate fall over the peak you had been climbing toward. And then he kept talking. *Seeing you all spread out for me, wearing my shirt, pleasing yourself to the thought of me fucking you into that mattress. Oh-ho-ho, Deputy~ You are so beautiful when you are vulnerable.* He moaned each word with promise. You could hardly hear him groaning and sputtering out curses over the radio as you came on your fingers. You hadn't yet truly realized the sincerity of his words and the trouble that came with them. You were so lost to pleasure and the ecstasy that flowed through your body. The images of John's cum falling onto his sweaty stomach as his body rose and fell with each painful breath. The thought of him losing himself to you in the night, as you spoke to one another, shrouded in darkness, with only yourselves to know of the sins that occurred.

     You waited a few minutes, attempting to catch your breath and yourself, coming down from the high that your body had been craving for so long. It was only then, as you had once been blissfully ignorant of the gravity of your situation, that your body jolted up.

But I prefer it this way, seeing you all spread out for me, wearing my shirt, pleasing yourself to the thought of me fucking you into that mattress...

Oh shit. You fucked up. Your eyes nervously searched the room, even in the darkness, what was there to see. The radio still in hand, you sprinted into the closet and shoved yourself under a set of John's hanging clothes. What were you doing?! Oh shit! You need to run! You need to grab your clothes and your weapons and you need to get out of here. Quick! What did you do?! He saw everything.

Oh-ho-ho, Deputy. You are so beautiful when you are vulnerable.

*Oh, Deputy~* He sung with a light chuckle lilting the edge of his name for you. You felt a stain in your chest, of embarrassment, of guilt, of a diminishing pride and self-esteem. *There's no reason to be so shy all of a sudden.* Your forehead hit the palm of your hand.

   You needed to react, get the fuck out of dodge, never come to the valley ever again. Nick and Mary and the Pastor had control over the situation, you could just fucking disappear. Why don't you jump into a void? Never return to Hope County even. Just leave forever. Did they make spaceships for extremely scarred and embarrassed common folk who wanted to get the hell off earth? Note to self, ask Hurk if he knows any aliens that could catch you a ride to the nearest infinity away from here. Fuck yourself. Fuck this. Fuck.

You hadn't even realized that John was still talking.

*Because I like you so much, I will even consider this an official confession. Wrath AND Lust.* You could hear the sickening grin of satisfaction. *Who would have thought that my little Deputy was so...* You were so unbelievably fucked. *Sinful?* Gunshots started to sound nearby, coming from outside the ranch, where resistance fighters had gathered to guard the newly acquired outpost. *I know I'm asking too much of you, my darling.* Your jaw dropped at the kindred and sweet way in which he spot the new pet name. *Just rest for now. You must be exhausted from the day's events.* You needed to get out of here, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. You were frozen with a whole course of unsettling emotions. *It's not easy to carry the entirety of a pathetic resistance effort on your shoulders.* And he sounded so loving, so tender, you had never in a thousand years thought you would ever hear John speak to you in such a way. *Don't worry, I will be home shortly.*

Return to Prompts

[podcastbigbang]

You Say I Killed You (Haunt Me Then)

Synopsis:

Maxwell, the creator. Kepler, the enforcer. And Jacobi, the destroyer.

SI-5 is for dirty work, for the jobs that no one else would take (even if they could). With this group, how could it have ended any other way?

Rating: Mature

Pairings or Main Characters: Daniel Jacobi/Warren Kepler, Daniel Jacobi & Alana Maxwell, Alana Maxwell & Warren Kepler, Daniel Jacobi/Officer Klein, Hephaestus Crew Buddies

Author Intro: 

@meterokinesis : I’m Hunter and I’m the captain of this here ship. This fic happened because I listened to the finale while slightly sleep deprived and said “hey, this sounds like a breakup.” So here is an exhaustive history of the SI-5, in which every single member has mommy and/or daddy issues. Also they’re all gay. To paraphrase Cai, I can psychoanalyze you based off of how you read this fic. After this baby finally gets posted, I am going to sleep for a week.

Artist Intros: 

@ijustcantfigureout : Hi! My name is Nimbus and I love Wolf 359, angst and character exploration. I just couldn't be part of this bigbang and not be here. 

@bisexualoftheblade : Hey y’all! I’m here because I have been hearing Hunter screech about SI-5 for a while now, and I had to come and see what they were doing.

Beta Intros: 

@bisexualoftheblade : I’m Hunter’s beloved bro, and for that reason I’m here to psychoanalyze them to shit for everything they write. Jokes on you bro, I can psychoanalyze you right back, mutually assured destruction babeyyy

@loverdontleave : I'm Kane, I do the beta work, please come give me a hug

@smallmediumproblems : Hi, Andy here! Desperate for Wolf 359 content and absolutely in love with this premise.

[afni-fics]

In Hindsight: Chapter 5: In the Present... At Face Value

In Hindsight: Chapter 5: In the Present... At Face Value by C_R_Scott

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox

Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Good Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parent Jack Drake, no beta we die like robins, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Story Summary: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: When Tim was a child, his father Jack had told him and his mother that his beloved grandmother had passed away while she was in the hospital due to pneumonia. But eight years later, a trusted family friend is telling him something very different.

"Is that what Jack told you and your mother? He told you both your Nana was dead?"

Out of all of Bruce's Robins, past and present, Tim was proud of having the distinction of being known as the best detective out of all of them. His mind was as nimble as Nightwing was agile. He had figured out Batman's true identity at age nine. He discovered his father was lost in time when everyone else thought he was dead. He successfully routed Ra's al Ghul and prevented him from stealing Wayne Enterprises out from under the family.

Unfortunately, having such a nimble mind meant that the moment Lucius Fox's words left his mouth, Tim was already more than halfway to formulating a theory based on the statement he heard and the context of the conversation that immediately preceded it.  However, it was the horrified tone of Lucius's voice, the appalled expression he saw on the elder man's face, and something deeper in his subconscious that slammed the brakes on his thought processes and caused his brain to short circuit before it could reach the conclusion they had been barreling towards.

Tim froze. He felt his heart stutter in his chest. Outwardly, he clamped down on his composure before daring to add his voice to the air.  He took a deep breath and released it slowly. 

"I'm fine," he thought to himself. "This is all just a misunderstanding."

Everything Jack told him that awful day was burned into his memory. It was the very first death of a loved one in his life and his first experience with grief. However, it endured it. He accepted it. He moved on.

"Everything is fine."

"Of course he did," Tim said matter-of-factly with a slight tilt of his head. "Nana was sick. She passed away in the hospital. Dad told us the day he got the call."

However, Tim felt a churning start low in his stomach as he observed Lucius's reaction to his words. The sensation was faint at first, but grew slowly in intensity as he watched the man on the other side of the desk. Lucius's expression was stricken as he shook his head.  "No. Timber..." he started tentatively, as if trying to speak to a spooked animal. "That's not... Your grandmother isn't--"

"She had pneumonia," Tim interrupted with a shake of his head as he turned away from his old family friend, from the man who had been like an uncle to him once upon a time. "And she never got better." He closed his eyes as he clung to his faded memories from that horrible time so many years ago. "Mom was so depressed because we couldn't go to the funeral. She and Dad had a job in Cairo the same--"

"Timothy--"

He felt Lucius's hand settle on his shoulder. It should have been a comforting gesture, along with the elder man's gentle but firm expression of his full name. Instead, it caused of army of goosebumps to race across his skin and seemed to disconnect his brain from his voice box. Lucius waited until Tim hesitantly turned to meet and hold his gaze before continuing.

"--There was no funeral." 

The muscles beneath Lucius's hand tensed immediately. 

"It took a few months, but she recovered. She went home. She's alive."

Tim shook his head again before finally finding his voice. When he spoke, his tone was strained and brittle. 

"No. That can't be right," he said. "Dad said... He told us she died. Why would he tell us that if it wasn't true?" 

"I'm sorry Tim, but Jack lied to you and your mother."

The faded memories in Tim's mind began to crack. The aborted theory his brain had been processing earlier suddenly re-asserted itself and reached its logical conclusion. However, it was not a conclusion that Tim was in any frame of mind to accept.

Not in that moment.

"I'm sorry Lucius. I... I need to go."

Before Lucius could say anything more, Tim shrugged himself out from under the older man's hand and slipped out of the office, shutting the door quickly behind him.

As soon as he was in the relative privacy and safety of the elevator, he used his security clearance to make sure it would go straight to the garage where his car was parked without stopping on any other floor. As the elevator descended, Tim backed himself into the corner and buried his face in his hand while his mind ran a mile a minute. 

"Nana can't be alive. Dad said she died...

"But Lucius would never say something like this if it wasn't true...

"But it can't be true...

"If Nana's alive, then that mean...

"No! That makes no sense... 

"Dad wouldn't have lied to me about Nana...

"He wouldn't have lied to Mom...

"He couldn't have...

"He didn't...

Tim lifted his head from his hand and stared at hand, which was trembling slightly.

"Did he?"

   It was a little nearly ten in the morning when Bruce's cell phone started ringing, the light from the screen illuminating the nightstand that rested next to his bed in the otherwise pitch black room. A weary arm snaked its way out from beneath the thick comforter on the bed. It took several tries, but finally the hand landed on the phone and pulled it toward the head still lying on the pillow.

Bleary eyes squinted as they peered at name on the too-bright screen before reluctantly pressing the "Accept" button. 

"Yes Lucius?" Bruce mumbled, his deep voice weighed down by the bone-deep fatigue trying to drag him back into slumber.

"Is Tim at the manor?"

Bruce's brow furrowed. There was an edge of distress in his old friend's voice that managed to shove some of the lethargy out of his mind with a small spike of adrenaline. He pushed himself up into a seated position. "He shouldn't be? Last I saw him was around five am in the Cave before I went to bed. Did he not make it to the office?"

"He did," Lucius confirmed as Bruce put on his bluetooth headset so he could pull on his housecoat. "But something happened in the office that upset him, and now he won't answer my calls and the tracker in his work cell has been shut off."

It didn't take long for Bruce to leave his bedroom and go a few doors down the hall to Tim's bedroom. As he expected, the room was empty. The bed itself was still perfectly made with Alfred's usual attention to detail, but his closet door was open and there was a notable gap where one of his spare business suits was missing. His bathroom door was also ajar. Tim may not have slept at the manor, but he did shower and change there before heading to work. 

"What happened at the office?" Bruce asked as he left Tim's room and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. 

It took longer than it should have for Lucius to answer. "It's complicated."

Bruce frowned. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. "One moment Lucius." He'd just entered the kitchen and zeroed in on Alfred, who was sitting at the breakfast nook sipping a cup of tea. 

The old butler was startled at the sight of the Wayne patriarch awake and out of bed before noon. "Master Bruce? What on earth--" 

"Has Tim come back from the office this morning?"

Alfred shook his head. "No. I haven't seen him since he left the manor around eight am." He set down his teacup and immediately got to his feet.

"Can you check the Cave and make sure he didn't return when no one was looking? Also, if he's not there, can you activate the tracker in his personal cell and find out where he is right now?"

"Of course sir." With a crisp nod, Alfred went to the library where the entrance to the Cave was hidden.

Finally, Bruce turned his attention back to Lucius. "I'm back, so explain. What happened at the office?"

"It actually started last night when Tim got hit with Crane's new fear toxin..." Lucius told Bruce about the encounter Tim had with Tam after crashing into her apartment, and quickly explained how Bruce's adopted son was actually the same boy who used to live next door to him for several years as he was raised by his grandmother.

Bruce absorbed the new information with confusion. "Ok... That's definitely surprising, but doesn't sound bad at all. Why would that upset Tim?"

On the other end of the phone, Bruce could hear Lucius groan in frustration. "When Tim was eight, his grandmother got sick and ended up hospitalized so he had to go back to living with his parents. Then Jack told him and his mom that his Nana had died."

"I remember. Before I adopted Tim, he told me all his grandparents had passed away, and he had no other living relatives."

"Jack lied."

Bruce's blood ran ice cold in his veins. "What?"

"Tim's grandmother never died. Her name is Susan Klein and she still lives next door to my family. I tried to tell Tim his Nana was alive, and that's when he ran off. I think he's in denial."

Bruce had to sit down as he processed this information. For years, he'd cared for Tim while his parents were out of the country, and then after his mother died and his father was in a coma. And then when Jack died, he adopted the boy he'd grown to love as his own son... But it was all under the assumption that Tim had no one else in his life. Tim had believed he had no one else.

And it was all a lie?

"Why?" Bruce asked, confused. "Why would Jack lie about that?"

Before Lucius could offer any explanation, Bruce saw Alfred emerge from the library. "Timothy is not in the Cave, but I did track his phone. Right now he's stationary in his new house in Gotham. He's logged into his workstation in the Nest." The old man's brow furrowed. "I've tried reaching out to him both by phone and computer, but he's not responding to anything."

Bruce got to his feet. "We can talk more about this later, Lucius. Tim's at his new place in the city, so I'm going to check on him now."

"I'll have Tam meet you there."

"That's not necess--"

"Do either you or Alfred have a key to the front door, and have your biometrics been programed into the house security system yet?"

Bruce and Alfred shared a glance, but said nothing, much to both of their mutual surprises.

Lucius apparently took their joint silence as a negative. "Tam was present while the theater renovations were in their early planning stages, and her biometrics were preinstalled into the security matrix while Tim was programming it. She can get you in without the Nest locking itself down." Bruce could hear the sound of Lucius's computer shutting down as well as the rustling of an overcoat being pulled on. "I'll call Tam on my way home."

"You're leaving the office?" Bruce asked as he went to his bedroom so he could change out of his nightclothes.

"This is a family emergency, and Susan has been like a grandmother to my own kids for nearly twenty-five years now. She needs to know her grandson is alive and well."

Bruce had just gotten back to his room, though he paused at the door. That feeling of ice in his veins had reasserted itself. "Did she think Tim was dead?"

In the background, Bruce could hear the sound of Lucius taking the elevator. "Honestly... we didn't know what had happened to him," Lucius admitted in a low tone. "We weren't sure exactly what Jack was capable of back then."

Once inside his bedroom, Bruce immediately began to quickly gather his clothes to change. "Please Lucius. I want to help my son, but I need more information. Tell me what you know about Tim's parents and grandmother."

Author's Notes:

At first, I was going to make this a much longer chapter. However, midway through writing it, I decided to split this chapter into two parts, with another chapter taking place in the past splitting the differences. I really hope everyone is enjoying this tale so far. If anyone has any questions or comments, please feel free to post them. I'll do my best to answer them.

#tim drake#tam fox#tim/tam#red robin#fanfiction#wip#rr: in hindsight#batfam#batfamily#lucius fox#bruce wayne

[tabloidtoc]

Globe, December 7

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Hillary Clinton health crisis 

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Larsa Pippen in a bikini in Fort Lauderdale, Olivia Culpo wrestles with recycling outside her L.A. office, Shia LaBeouf ditches his face covering for a phone call in an L.A. market 

Page 3: Pete Wentz plays tennis, Bachelorette Kaitlyn Bristowe outside the Dancing with the Stars studio, Sean Penn hits the beach in Hawaii 

Page 4: Barbara Walters was sharp as a tack when she grilled the world’s biggest leaders but ravaging dementia has now tragically turned the 91-year-old into a prisoner in her own bed 

Page 5: Pistol-packing Elvis Presley was so gaga over guns that he’d even take a firearm to bed with him 

* Ringo Starr’s childhood bout with appendicitis at age six caused him to fall into a coma and spend a year in the hospital to recover then five years later he contracted tuberculosis and spent two years in a sanitarium where he discovered drums as part of the hospital band 

Page 6: If it’s true that Gentleman Prefer Blondes Marilyn Monroe was the perfect star for the flick because she dyed her carpet platinum to match the drapes -- beauty guru Kenneth Battelle suggested Marilyn change the color of her pubic hair after a jerk spilled champagne over her sheer dress at a party showing everything because she didn’t wear skivvies so the guru ran to the hotel drugstore and got some dye and told Marilyn to go in the bathroom and bleach 

Page 7: Celine Dion has turned into a frightening bag of bones leaving friends worried she’s headed for a catastrophic health crisis -- now down to a gaunt 96 pounds the star is driving herself to the brink of collapse with a diet and exercise plan to prepare for the relaunch of her hit world tour and she starves herself in her drive for perfection and to maintain the stick-thin look that helped turn her into a fashion icon

* Julianne Hough confesses feeling she didn’t deserve the A-list life she enjoyed while dating Ryan Seacrest where she was on private planes and yachts and living in a very well-off house and her life was pretty different from where she grew up -- she left Ryan in 2013 after three years because she wanted to create that for herself because she felt like she didn’t deserve it 

Page 8: Duchess of York Sarah Ferguson is searching for the Fountain of Youth by working out with Pierce Brosnan’s trainer -- the ex-wife of disgraced Prince Andrew is following a grueling exercise regimen in hopes of joining people who are said to be biologically younger than their true age 

Page 9: Disgraced Prince Andrew has been kicked from the royal family and now Prince Charles plans to boot his sister Princess Anne from his inner circle once he becomes king -- while the princess has carried her share of official engagements Charles plans to shrink the monarchy after his mother Queen Elizabeth passes and the phrase slimmed-down royal family constantly keeps coming up and the royal family will evolve with Charles coming to the throne -- Anne will be on the chopping block mostly because of ambitious Duchess Camilla who is Charles’ wife and who has carried out a ruthless dirty plan to be queen for decades and she wants no one else taking the limelight and that includes Charles’ sister

* Prince Harry and wife Meghan Markle dissed his dad Prince Charles with a surprising public snub as the couple failed to publicly wish Charles a happy birthday when he turned 72 -- Queen Elizabeth and Prince William and Duchess Kate all sent birthday wishes to the future king on social media but Harry and Meghan took a pass even though Harry popped up on the British TV show Strictly Come Dancing that night to wish a pal good luck

Page 10: A nuclear-sized catfight has exploded in North Korea where dictator Kim Jong-un’s baby sister and his pop star lover are battling to claw their way to be top gal -- while sister Kim Yo-jong seemed to be running the nation after Kim vanished and was rumored dead he popped back up with old galpal Hyon Song-wol on his arm and his current wife Ri Sol-ju nowhere to be seen 

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Mario Lopez wearing a clear mask (picture), Lauren Simon of The Real Housewives of Cheshire in the U.K. claims to have had sex with an actual ghost, Kaley Cuoco has a theory about shooting those sexy big bangs with ex-boyfriend Johnny Galecki that the pair’s sneaky sitcom boss got a kick putting the real-life former lovers under the covers, Reese Witherspoon lost her beloved dog Pepper to cancer and returned to her ole Southern roots when picking a name for her brand-new puppy: Minnie Pearl, plagued by seemingly endless allegations of being mean and ignoring a toxic workplace Ellen DeGeneres is now plugging a Be Kind subscription box valued at $270

Page 13: Kristen Taekman tops of her gas tank in L.A. (picture), Jeff Goldblum feeding a parking meter in L.A. (picture), Hilary Duff gets primped and primed on the NYC set of Younger (picture) 

Page 14: Reclusive ailing widow Yoko Ono finally loosened the reins and is handing over her $800 million empire to Sean Lennon her only child with Beatles legend John Lennon but John’s eldest son Julian Lennon was left out of the hitmaker’s will but Julian managed to eke out a $25 million settlement okayed by Yoko after he dragged his famous dad’s estate to court, Kelsea Ballerini snapped at a nosy fan for rudely asking if her rounded tummy was a blossoming baby bump

* Fashion Verdict -- Lara Spencer 9/10, Laura Veltz 2/10, Lauren Akins 3/10, Lauren Alaina 4/10 

Page 16: Michael Jackson’s baby mama Debbie Rowe reveals getting pregnant was no thrill because she was artificially impregnated -- Debbie met ex-husband Michael when she was working for his dermatologist and she insists the couple never had sex and a sperm donor fathered the pop star’s two kids she carried in her womb -- son Prince Jackson is rumored to have been fathered by Debbie’s doctor boss Arnold Klein -- British actor Mark Lester claims her could be Paris Jackson’s father -- Debbie is unsure of the paternity of Michael’s youngest son Blanket who now goes by Bigi Jackson

Page 17: Fans gaga for Dr. McDreamy on Grey’s Anatomy got a super thrill on the season 17 premiere when Patrick Dempsey returned to the hit hospital drama after departing the show five years ago -- Dempsey whose character Dr. Derek Shepherd died in a car crash came back in a dream sequence reuniting with star Ellen Pompeo’s Dr. Meredith Grey on a beach -- Dempsey split from the show to spend more time with his family and pursue his auto racing hobby but he’ll return to the show several more times 

Page 19: 10 Things You Don’t Know About Emma Corrin

* Reba McEntire reveals she turned down The Voice gig that went to Blake Shelton and now she regrets it big-time 

* Nip/tuck junkie Dolly Parton says she plans to keep freshening her face by going under the knife and crows she’s gonna look like a cartoon and she’ll look as young as her plastic surgeons will allow her 

Page 20: True Crime 

Page 21: Former soap stud Cody Longo was socked with a domestic abuse charge following a jealous booze-fueled attack on his dancer wife Stephanie Clark -- Cody played Nicholas Alamain on Days of Our Lives from 2011-2012 

Page 23: Meredith Baxter felt booby-trapped by her enormous breasts and confesses she welcomed breast-reduction surgery after getting cancer -- the Family Ties star reveals her former 42-inch bust was the plague of her life

* Weatherman Al Roker has a secret weapon in his stormy battle to recover from prostate cancer surgery which is the love and support of his wife Deborah Roberts who is keeping him happy and positive doting on him day and night plus they talk about everything and make medical decisions together so there’s no fear or anxiety entering their world 

* Jennifer Lopez kicked booty when a federal judge dismissed a $40 million lawsuit brought by a former stripper who claims she inspired the hit movie Hustlers -- Samantha Barbash claims she’s the real-life model for J.Lo’s pole-dancing swindler Ramona Vega and insisted the movie ruined her rep by implying she did drugs around her kids but the judge tossed the case because Barbash’s name or portrait or picture or voice wasn’t used in the film 

Page 24: Cover Story -- Hillary Clinton has tragically packed on nearly 100 pounds since she vanished from the spotlight four years ago and is struggling to breathe and walk and now a medical expert is warning the 73-year-old is facing a health crisis as she tips the scales at 247 pounds -- Hillary has a history of broken bones and shocking collapses 

Page 26: Health Report

Page 30: Country girl Carly Pearce’s divorce from Michael Ray has gone from bad to ugly and he’s now parading his romance with Travis Tritt’s daughter Tyler Reese Tritt -- Carly was all for taking the high road but now she’s taken off the gloves -- they’re bad-mouthing each other far and wide and Carly’s tossed everything that reminds her of Michael 

* Southern Charm belle Madison LeCroy has been flashing a pic of her newest charms which is a set of bigger boobs 

Page 36: Diva Mariah Carey’s demanding ways are driving her boyfriend Bryan Tanaka bonkers and the couple of four years may be headed for Splitsville unless she changes her ways -- Mariah treats Bryan like an assistant instead of a lover and it’s giving him fits and he’s been so patient with Mariah and he loves her but she’s wearing him out with her incessant orders like she has him drawing up her schedule for online greets plus she’s ordering him to do all her holiday shopping for friends and be in charge of everything from decorations to food prep 

* Emma Roberts confesses being pregnant makes her weepy and she’s hit the point where like halfway up the stairs she has to sit down sometimes and maybe tears roll down a couple times a week but despite that Emma says she feels grateful and lucky to be expecting her first child

Page 38: Real Life 

Page 40: Phil Collins’ embarrassing court battle with third ex Orianne Cevey is casting a pall over his daughter Lily Collins’ wedding plans -- Lily is desperate to tie the knot with Charlie MacDowell but the dirty charges flying back may force her to put the happy day on hold and it’s hard for Lily to concentrate on making wedding plans when her father is caught in an ugly public fight -- Orianne is battling over Phil’s $38 million Miami mansion where they lived after reuniting in 2018 

Page 44: Straight Talk -- NXIVM cult is warning to us all 

Page 45: Treasure hunters have launched a frantic search for a $150 million stash of gangster gold hidden by mobster Dutch Schultz in Upstate New York after two sleuths recently discovered coins they believe are linked to the stash -- following a long list of cryptic clues Canadian fortune seekers Steve Zazulyk and Ryan Fazekas uncovered gold coins dated 1903 a few miles from the Prohibition Era beer baron’s hangout in the Catskills town of Phoenicia and their find triggered a race against other prosecutors seeking a two-by-three-foot steel box filled with diamonds and gold coins and $1000 bills and $7 billion in World War I Liberty Bonds and the hoard has an estimated value of $150 million today 

[schoethe]

Some sources state Schiller have ignored Christiane at Goethes house. Like he despise her and Goethe because of her. Maybe do you know where is the information from? I don't remeber the sources, but I've read this quite a lot.

pheew, there is no easy answer to that question and i don’t have all the sources at hand rn and no time to do proper research so what i write now might be biased by my personal memory and interpretation but here’s what i remember (edit: ups, novel ahead):

so the thing with Christiane was that 

a) she was from a ‘simpler’ background than people would have liked a women who was the woman at Goethe’s side to be

b) during most of the time of their relationship Goethe didn’t marry her - and I say that he didn’t marry her bc I am quite sure that she would have liked to get married to him (earlier) and also would have benefited greatly from being married to him. While Goethe may have had his reasons to not get married it left Christiane in a very difficult position. She was left with no offical standing in society, she couldn’t accompany her partner to events, couldn’t receive (official) guests, couldn’t parttake in activities etc. because officially she didn’t exsist. That doesn’t mean however that people didn’t know about her. They knew very well and they didn’t approve of the relationship in any way. People were scandalized how Goethe could live like that, unmarried with a woman of low education, not from a high society family or, how they put it, how he could share the bed with his housekeeper - an idea repeated even today even though it absolute bs of course. Christiane was not his housekeeper. (Even though she did run the household obviously as any wife would have.) They had a very intense, romantic and sensual relationship and had moved in together very shortly after haven fallen in love head over heels almost at first sight and even though Goethe himself was facing difficulties because of it with his friend and sponsor, the Duke (Herzog) of Weimar, Carl August. If I remember correctly they at first weren’t allowed to live in their later home at the Frauenplan in the center of town but had to live in the house that is today known as Goethe’s Garden House a little outside of town.

And so to Schiller. Schiller’s wife Charlotte (I’m going to call her Lotte from now on for less confusion) was very close friends with Charlotte von Stein, a very important figure in Weimar’s high society and Goethe’s quasi ex-girlfriend who particulary despised Christiane as Goethe had left her and turned to Christiane after his trip to Italy. 

I’ve said earlier that people didn’t approve of Christiane and of Goethe’s living with her. That was very mildly put. They hated her. Made fun about her, gossiped, called her names as nice as “a round nothing” or “das Mensch”, which translates roughtly to ‘the’ or ‘that human’ but in German the phrase uses the neuter article instead of the masculine one which usually goes with “Mensch” which makes the term very strong and dehumanizing. 

She was socially outlawed, women refrained from visiting Goethe’s house in fear of meeting her and becoming a subject of gossip themselves.And well as I said, Charlotte von Stein as someone who was very important and as someone who particulary didn’t like Christiane was one of the leading figures in that scheme. (One time Christiane made the mistake of sending her a cake for her… birthday? and not enclosing a note but instead have the maid who brought the cake verbally say greetings and also say out loud who the cake was from and as other people were present Charlotte was outraged and mortified as she apparently had been humiliated in front of all her guests)

And Lotte as her friend and also as a women of high morality adopted and/or shared that attitude towards Christiane in many aspects. I wouldn’t hesitate one second to agree that she ‘hated’ or despised Christiane. 

But I wouldn’t say the same about Schiller. He probably didn’t speak up or defended her in front of his wife but I also can’t quite imagine that he took part in the mean gossiping about her and there’s also no form of proof indicating that (that I know of). If anything I think he avoided that topic and probably tried to blend out that part of Goethe’s life. 

But in the end we also do not know very much about Schiller and Christiane except very few things. Here’s what we know:

- if he saw her at all he saw her very seldomly at Goethe’s house. I don’t know whose choice that was, that is whether it was Goethe’s, Christiane’s or an agreed decision between them both but as I said ealier it would have also been just improper for her to officialy receive guests, this was the 1790s, this was high society, there was a protocol for certain things and the famous poet’s girlfriend greeting his guests just wasn’t a thing and there was probably no exception made with Schiller. however… the main source we have of Schiller not meeting her (when he stayed there for the first time for a couple of days) is a letter to his wife where he states that he has never seen Christiane and I think there’s a possibility that that’s not even true and Schiller only wrote it in order to not worry Lotte but idk

- Goethe mentions Schiller’s wife in like almost every single letter (sending greetings etc.) and Schiller doesn’t do the same with Christiane but then again he probably didn’t even know her very well and, well, greeting your friends wife (besides the fact that Goethe and Lotte had known each other since long before either of them met Schiller) was more a thing you did than greeting his girlfriend

- he does however send her greetings one (1) time in 1802 to congratulate her on the birth of a daughter (who died a couple of days later as did all of Christiane and Goethe’s children after their eldest son, August - it is today supposed that they had mismatching blood groups which is why none of their later children was able to survive more than a few weeks or even days):

Empfehlen sie mich der Kleinen recht freundschaftlich und versichern sie meines besten Anteils ~friendly greetings to the Kleine and assure her of my best regards

I’m not going to overinterpret the word freundschaftlich/friendly (which in this context I’d read as literally friend-ly, as in from a friend, in a friendshipy way etc.) here but he’s callig her ‘Kleine’ (which means the small one but it’s used as a nickname so it doesn’t really translate), and to me that means that Goethe must have referred to her by that name when talking to Schiller about her, which means that he, well talked to Schiller about her and in such an intimate manner that he referred to her by a nickname, so make of that what you may

- there was one time (this is mentioned in a letter from Christiane to Goethe but unfortunately I can’t find those online anymore so here’s a very cloudy memory:) when both Schiller and Christiane were at the annual theatre festival or sth in Lauchstädt and Christiane wrote to Goethe who had stayed in Weimar that she had been… sitting at a table together with Schiller? and they had… a lot of fun? and/or they went on some kind of boat trip and sat (amongst others) in the same boat?? (if anyone has those letters please let me know!!) anyway from how she wrote it, itsounded like Schiller spoke to her, was at ease being in her company etc.

So all things considered I think Schiller’s behaviour to her was if not particularly great also not particularly bad. He surely wasn’t very straightforward about including her or having close contact with her, but then Goethe probably didn’t even introduce her to him properly. To me it seems that he was somehow caught in beetween - between Lotte and her friends and the entire Weimar society and between his friend Goethe and his beloved Christel whom he for some reason just didn’t marry. What he really thought of her, how well he actually knew her? I think we just don’t know. But I think that compared with what Christiane was facing with the rest of Weimar’s society Schiller seems to have been okay with her to some extent and seems to have been almost friendly to or even with her (in comparison!).

So that was a very long answer to a very short but important and also complex question. I hope that at least some things are clearer now?

But anyway, if you care to learn more and something better-informed than this jibberish was about Christiane I strongly, strongly recommend to read Sigrid Damm’s biography on her (and Goethe): Christiane & Goethe!!!

[littlemisssquiggles]

So I have been thinking on the idea that if they do show it Oscar and Whitley could form a sort of friendship given that both sort of have a big thing coming for them (Whitley in running the Dust company and Oscar's chosen one deal) What do you think? Also I feel it'd be cool is Whitley's sembalence was like good stratigic planning he is able to see two moves ahead like in chess and plan for it.

Hello again Crystal. Y’know once upon a time, I would’ve been open to Whitley and Oscar becoming steady friends and having an almost love-hate type of friendship mirroring Ruby and Weiss. I came to appreciate Rich Farmers as a FRIEND-ship which is ironic since before that I wanted Whitley and Oscar to be rivals for Ruby’s affections XD

Oscar and Whitley are my boys and seeing them finally meet and interact would’ve been an interesting sight. But now that I’ve seen nearly half of V7, I’m unsure of whether or not Whit and Oscar will ever get a chance to meet given how the PLOT has been shaping up.

If we’re lucky, Oscar would be attending the election Watch Party up in Atlas with JNR_RWBY and would just so happen to bump into Whit who just so happened to be attending the Watch Party too on behalf of his father just to promote his campaign at the school or something—I dunno. Just a crumb of interaction would’ve sufficed. 

However, as I said, I’m not sure if these two will ever meet at all. At least notfor V7. I’m still waiting to see what either of their roles will be like for this volume.

I have a sinking suspicion that Whitley will be the one to reveal to Weiss about how their mother has been really doing since she departed. Who knows? Perhaps…he might even allow her back into their home to see her while Jacques is away on business (or rendezvousing with Watts). 

I say this since I don’t think Klein is around anymore. I’m starting to wonder if he was unceremoniously let go after it was discovered that he helped Weiss escape. It was odd not seeing him at Schnee Manor, even when Watts came to visit Jacques. Then again the PLOT hasn’t visited the Manor much for this season outside of the end of CH4. I wonder if we will get more on that as we move into the political subplot for the season.

Since Jacques sparked quite an uproar in Mantle, I’m intrigued at how that’s going to be played out next episode. I’d like to imagine that part of the reason our young heroes were ultimately granted a night off was due to them needing one after working possibly double time to deal with all the ruckus bringing forththe Grimm that was caused by the People of Mantle revolting against the General and Atlas after what Jacques caused.

It wouldn’t surprise me if more Grimm start invading the city due to all the risingnegativity at the city in the clouds, thanks to the Ice King himself.

The start of V7 and the narrative that follows afterwards surrounding Jacques, General Ironwood and even Robyn Hill and her Happy Huntresses should be more than fascinating to watch play out. I can’t wait. 

But going back to Whit, I really feel like Whitley’s role for this season will be delegated to outing Jacques on his underhanded cooperation with Watts.

I feel as we’re going to get Whitley snooping around on his father and Watts.

Oh! Do you know what would actually be pretty darn cool?

What if…Whitley allows Weiss back into Schnee Manor when she shows up to visit their mother who, as we remember, was told to not be doing so well since Weiss’ departure. While checking in on her mom, Whitley invites Weiss to show her something and it’s basically a scenario where Whitley reveals to Weiss another secret passageway within Schnee Manor that leads into a hidden area overlooking Jacques’ office where Whitley and Weiss could spy in on their father.

Let’s say…Whit wants to tell Weiss about what his father had been doing to win the elections. However since he’s also aware that his sister might not believe him, he decides a better way to prove himself is by showing her the truth. So basically Weiss and Whitley end up spying in on Jacques just when Arthur Watts pays him another visit. Maybe Tyrian Callows tags along with Watts this time?

Now here’s the thing with this. Weiss doesn’t know who Tyrian is. The only person on Team RWBY aware of Tyrian is Ruby. So as an alternative to this theory of mine, let’s say:

Weiss returns home to see her mother. Ruby tags along with for morale support. Unfortunately the security at Schnee Manor deny Weiss access even if it was to see her mother, thanks to Jacques giving them strict orders to. Fortunately for Weiss, she reunites with good ole Klein who helps her and Ruby sneak into the manor to see Mama Schnee. 

In her mother’s room, Weiss discovers her mother passed out drunk but sleeping more or less soundly. As it turns out her fears were proven right as her mother looks ill and let’s say her room is a mess, littered with empty wine bottles and glasses as a sign of several alcoholic episodes. This upsets Weiss dearly at seeing her mother in such a state. Luckily her best friend Ruby is there to comfort her.

Weiss then goes to wake her mother up to show that she is still there for her. Unfortunately Weiss’ time with her mother is cut short as Klein comes in to warn the girls that they needed to now leave since Jacques had returned home and security was coming down the hallway.

Weiss and Ruby leave just as Mama Schnee opened her eyes to an emptydark room, missing seeing her beloved daughter again by a millisecond.

Similar to how Klein assisted Weiss with the passageway that led straight out of the manor, he attempts to use the same one from V4 to provide Weiss and Ruby a means of escape. However they are forced to make a detour since the room with the passageway is used or something. Klein is then forced to leave the girls on their own when he’s called away by Jacques.

Long story short, Weiss and Ruby Scooby-Doo their way around Schnee Manor, avoiding as much encounters with security and staff as they could. Eventually their hide and seek results in them stumbling upon another hidden passageway that takes them to the secret hiding spot I described before overseeing Jacques’ office.

From here, Ruby and Weiss listen in on Jacques once again scheming with Watts. Tyrian happens to be there as well and Ruby immediately recognizes him; informing Weiss that the Scorpion Faunus was bad news since he was the one who poisoned Qrow and attacked her and JNR back in Mistral. Thus meaning that Weiss’ father was getting himself roped in with people who work for Salem!

While Weiss and Ruby are processing this revelation, let’s say…that they are caught by Whitley who knew about the passageway since he used it to spy in on Jacques. Whitley has an opportunity to rat Weiss and Ruby out to the in-house security or worse Jacques and his associates. But rather than do that, Whitley does the last thing Weiss expected him to do for her—help her.

With Whit’s help, Ruby and Weiss are able to make their way back toKlein and eventually out of Schnee Manor undetected.

One of my Whit-ty headcanons for Whitley is that he will redeem himself, at least in the eyes of Weiss by helping her in some shape or form. 

My rationale for this is because I strongly believe that Whitley will be the Huntsman (ironically) in Weiss’ Snow White story. 

In the original fairy-tale, the Huntsman was sent to kill Snow White by the Wicked Queen but instead the Huntsman took pity on her and allowed her to go free into the forest where she eventually met the Seven Dwarves.

The assumption here in that Whitley is meant to be exactly like Jacques and thus act as an antagonist to Weiss in some way, right? However I still wish to hold out on the concept of Whitley proving himself to be trusted in the eyes of Weiss, finally opening the door for the potential of these two sharing an actual good relationship.

While all the sisterly moments between Weiss and Winter for this season have been nice, it still bothers me how nonchalant Weiss and Winter are with continuing to wholeheartedly support each other while still leaving their little brother in the dark in the hands of their father; the thought of extending that olivebranch to him still crossing neither of their minds even now. Like…really?

Who knows. Maybe if we do get a moment of Whitley helping Weiss, it may spark the thought of her reaching out to Whit. Perhaps…we can finally have some backstory for these two for once. Again, all the stuff between Weiss and Winter is cool and all that jazz. However this squiggle meister is more intrigued to learn what Weiss’ story with her brother is all about, y’know what I mean?

As for Whitley’s semblance, I’m more inclined with the theory that Whitley possesses the same hereditary Glyph semblance that all Schnees possess since he is a Schnee. 

Regardless of how much the PLOT wishes to have me believe that Whit is exactly like his father, I wish to stand by the thought that he is more like his sisters than he realizes. 

Whitley is a Schnee so if he’s to have a semblance, I want it to be Glyphs. I want to see Whit have his own summon and long ago, I pegged Whit’s choice of summon would be a Geist Grimm he accidentally killed after it attacked him and Klein at the Manor.

Then Whit ends up being haunted by said Geist since he couldn’t control it. Whitley awakening his semblance and needing help to control his powers could be a potential way for him to bond with his sisters. 

Imagine Weiss and Winter coming together to help their brother understand what he’s going through with his gift. Imagine Whit becoming conflicted by this since his powers give him a connection to his sisters and an actual good relationship with them (which I still believe is what Whitley wants above anything else) however at the same time, he is torn by his loyalty to their father.

This could’ve been a great subplot to flesh out Whit as a character.Buuuuuuuuuuuut….this is only just me and my headcanons. Whitley’s true purpose in the PLOT; I shall leave that to the CRWBY Writers to reveal. In the meantime. I’ll just have my own ideas.

I do like your idea for Whit’s semblance though, Crystal. Basically your idea is for Whit t have a foresight type of semblance; similar to how Maria’s Reflex semblance operates in a sense, right? 

Either way, I can dig that. However, like I said, my top choice for Whit’s semblance is dem Glyphs. I want my boy to be the Schnee that he is, dagnabbit!  But we shall see how that goes as the volume unfolds.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

[blackberryvision]

OKAY! Notes on Camp! I finally had a moment to check out this exhibit a few weeks ago [ya girl has been triple booked and busy] and perhaps I didn’t pick the ideal time to go [mid-day on a Sunday] but it’s the only time I had. Let’s chat about this one for a minute or 10 because I have a lot to say. I think it comes as no surprise that I’m pretty campy. I appreciate a tacky moment [I did start collecting hooters tee’s when I was 15, out of the blue and still have never eaten there in my life. I just enjoyed the camp] and while I don’t dress camp outside of some of my shoe choices, I love A MOMENT! 

This should have been a slam dunk. I should have been cleansed from the sins created by the Costume Institute for Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination and yettttt here we are about to get into a rant. 

If you’re not familiar with my career, hi, hello, welcome, I’ve documented stores/store windows obsessively since 2006. I love a good display. I had a blog for 5 years!! documenting these spaces. I’ve worked with brands like Louis Vuitton, Hugo Boss, and Chloé [all for 4 years each, okay, go off @ me] documenting their spaces. So I know a good space. I know a good display. I’ve seen it. I’ve documented it endlessly on this Tumblr for the last 10!!! years of posting [we’ll get to that post soon, I missed my blog birthday last month] and I’m just confused why this is so mediocre when it comes to layouts. I haven’t started the fashion, can you believe it? I swear I’ll be quick… here are my layout thoughts, if a person can’t shoot a photo with a cellphone or a DSLR in the clear, you messed up. The halls are SO narrow [I can’t imagine being handicapped and having to access it in all honesty] and overpacked with tourists that are not making the most considerate life choices when it comes to their deodorant…ooo. I don’t like feeling like cattle. I also know I don’t have to feel like cattle. I know that there have been amazing exhibits over the years that everyone should have learned from. The Dior Exhibit [link here] is the gold standard IMO for how layouts should go. Louis Vuitton [link here] PR push? You should have caught that show and sorted your curation. Your own McQueen I exhibit that I went to 6!! times [and no photography was allowed but I snuck my blackberry in, I would cough, and I would send my email to Tumblr to post it, you can find those posts still] FLAWLESS… This? This isn’t it. JPG at the Brooklyn Museum was fantastic. Even Bowie [smaller but mightier] put this to shame. I understand there’s limited space but I’m about to petition to skip my MBA qualifications and grab some people from stores and do better because this is not it. The ugly reflections you’re about to see? YUCK. Unnecessary, return to sender. I’m usually a ghost when I shoot through this glass.

Let's discuss the fashion now because pretty much everything until the end [before the big room] is like…okay, cool. I wanted more JPG. More Viktor + Rolf, heck, Galliano Dior Couture should have been on loan. Nothing screams camp more to me than a woman dressed as a sphinx. Slippery when wet Chloé circa Stella McCartney, where was she?! I even expected more Gucci because sponsorship and hello, Gucci is Campucci these days. I would even dare to think that a Pucci ski suit could be camp? Still debating that thought but the obsession towards Jeremy Scott and not a Tom Ford Gucci G pubic hair homage…idk man.  Even his RAFflop Calvin Klein Jaws could have gone camp. We can fight about Raf later but I have decided to UNSTAN! 

Throwing my beloved Giamba in glass corners…sis, who hurt you. Imagine building an entire room without any glass displays and making that call. Oh and let’s discuss that room because 2 stories and not being able to get close to the I LOVE YOU V+R dress [which should have also included the bed dress, hello!!!!] with more of the text couture pieces, I don’t know. I just don’t understand who is making such poor life choices. Hector, the beloved dog bag, from Thom Browne not being included? Criminal. TB not being included more is criminal. I’ll even throw Dolce a bone and demand that the SEX necklaces/collection should have made it in and I’ll argue until I lose breathe that the Dolce Madonna tee collection should have made it too. I just don’t understand, you have essentially 2 floors to get this right and the Cloisters and still it’s a swing and a miss. And no one can tell me that this isn’t important to the museum, they get so much money from this exhibit, they break box office records nearly yearly, and this year they decided to sell Off-White, Marc Jacobs, Gucci merch at retail asking…15 dollar paper Gucci Bookmark anyone? Whew, I need a breathe and maybe a podcast because your girl has a lot of thoughts on this.  

Anyways, enjoy the images, I busted my butt on them shooting, being pushed by tourists, smelling tourists, rethinking my life choices… and then editing on my flight back from Aruba and throughout the week. Love you all, let me know your thoughts.

[midnightcomposition]

Real Life Sleeping Beauty

Chapter Three

<PREVIOUS || NEXT>

Summary: Akaashi, now sixteen, is excited to become a first year. His biggest fear is that his KLS will inhibit him, especially in his chances of making the volleyball team. He wants nothing more than to be a normal teenager. And maybe he can be, with some help along the way.

(AN: tw panic/anxiety attack)

————————————————————————

“HEY, HEY, HEY! AKAASHI!” Bokuto screamed up at Akaashi from the bottom of the club room stairs. His streaked hair flopped slightly as he took the steps two at a time, landing somewhat unsteadily beside Akaashi. He draped an arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, likely a last ditch effort to stablalize himself, and scanned quickly over the list.

“Congratulations, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said with a small nod.

“Oho ho ho! I told you you would make it, ‘Kaashi!” His grin was blinding, eyes crinkled against the force of his own joy.

“Yes, Bokuto-san, but you didn’t tell me you would be Vice Captain.”

Bokuto’s head snapped back to the list so fast, Akaashi thought it could’ve gone around full circle. He watched those golden eyes practically bulge out of his head, hair grow impossibly fluffier, jaw drop low enough for Akaashi to see all his teeth. And then a piercing screech erupted from the taller, supposedly older, boy.

“AHGKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHIIIII!!!!!!!!!!”

Bokuto kept darting his head between the door and Akaashi, not sure which to focus on, before finally locking gold on green and grabbing Akaashi’s shoulders in both hands. He shook him around like a rag doll. Akaashi couldn’t even hear his own protests over the sound of his brain rattling in his skull. His eyes started to roll in his head with each jolt back and forth. The final shake launched Akaashi forward into Bokuto’s very broad, very defined chest, arms roping around his middle like a vice. All he could manage was a muffled, “Bokuto-san,” before Bokuto started yelling again.

“AKAASHI, I DIDN’T TELL YOU BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN!!!! AAAAAGHHHHAHAHAHA! WE HAVE TO GO CELEBRATE!”

Bokuto then took to leaping around in a circle, finally releasing Akaashi from his death grip only to reattach himself to Akaashi’s wrist. He’d never felt fragile before, but Bokuto’s huge hands made Akaashi fear for the safety of his wrist. He dragged his free fingers through his hair and huffed. His face fell back to flat.

“We still have to attend class today, Bokuto-san.”

His honey eyes sobered immediately.

“You’re right.” His brows plummeted down his forehead, face squinching in thought, hand flying from Akaashi’s wrist to cup his own chin. After a few minutes, he snapped his fingers into finger guns directly in Keiji’s blank face. He didn’t flinch. “Well, how about we celebrate after practice, Akaashi! What do you say? I know a really good yakiniku place not too far from school, we could walk there!”

In less than a second, Keiji weighed the pros and cons, mulling it over and coming to the conclusion that bonding with the team ace would probably be a good idea. He would be setting primarily to him.

“Sure, I’ll go.”

“WOOHOOO!!” Bokuto took to prancing in a circle again, coming to a stop only so he could fist bump the air vigorously.

Akaashi didn’t know how to react to that, but he assumed people eventually got used to his endless energy.

————————————————————————

By the middle of practice, Akaashi was wishing he could go back in time and eat his own words— or, well, thoughts. He knew being the only setter was gonna be hard work, and he was by no means in bad shape, but Bokuto didn’t know what the word quit meant. It looked like each good spike only succeeded in giving him more energy. Akaashi was running around like a chicken with his head cut off. He had to admit, for all his rambling, Bokuto was a good leader. But Akaashi could feel his muscles starting to ache from the strain. He couldn’t believe he was hoping they’d run laps or start receive drills again.

During water break, Akaashi approached Bokuto for a change.

“Bokuto-san, can I ask you something?”

Bokuto’s thousand watt smile smacked Akaashi across the face as he spun on his heels to face him. Water dribbled out of the side of his mouth to run down his shirt front.

“Of course, Akaashi! Anything for my beloved first years!”

Akaashi decided against bringing attention to the fact that he was the only first year, eye twitching slightly as Bokuto took to bouncing on his toes. Which brought Akaashi’s mind back to his question.

“Where do you get so much energy?”

Bokuto flopped his head to the side almost curiously except for the fact that his teeth flashed brighter with a widening smile.

“Well, actually, I go on a run every morning for about eight or so miles. Just to get my blood pumping a little before morning practice.” His hands smacked his face and then waved manically in front of him, a short groan escaping from low in his throat. “Don’t tell Coach, though, I promised not to over exert myself! It’s not really over exertion, though, because it doesn’t make me tired anymore! Trust me!”

Akaashi blinked at him for a few seconds. Maybe hours. He wasn’t really sure at this point. His brain had gone completely blank, eight or so miles bouncing for an indeterminate amount of time between his ears. Externally, he looked the same as always, stoic face unchanging, but he was freaking out on the inside. Guess I should start running, he thought once his mind started functioning again. A little voice in the back of his head complained that he still felt weird; he chose to ignore it.

“I’m sure that’s true. I won’t tell Coach, Bokuto-san. Thank you,” he spoke to his shoes with a curt nod. He didn’t notice the small upturn of his lips, and Bokuto wasn’t yet experienced enough to know the full weight of his smirk. Akaashi didn’t hear the “No, thank you ‘Kaashi!” as he stood back up, didn’t sense the eyes on his back as he walked away, didn’t feel fully present as Coach whistled for the end of break.

Practice finished with partner passing drills, and they were finally free. It was 5 o’clock. Bokuto was practically vibrating with excitement, shouting that he had an announcement for the team.

“I wanna celebrate the new team, and let us all get to know our new kouhai a little bit better, so what about we all go out for dinner together!? What do you say?”

No one could deny Bokuto with that childlike light burning in his eyes, not that anyone wanted to to begin with. A hearty yes resounded through the gym, and the team seemed to have newfound energy in cleaning up. Akaashi was looking forward to it that much more. His lips felt a little wobbly at all the smiles directed his way throughout the tear down process. Maybe I can have real friends for once. He excused himself to the bathroom before he could make himself cry, hiding the sting behind splashes of cold water. An alert went up in his brain that he was being too emotive; he assumed it was just from beginning to find his groove with the new team. He headed into the locker room to find everyone had already begun getting changed. Hurriedly he followed suit, dressing back into his uniform before anyone else. He set his bag in front of his locker. There was something he needed to do before they left, for his own peace of mind.

“I’ll be back, I have to speak to Coach. You all can go on with out me,” Akaashi said before leaving the locker room. He didn’t wait for a response; he would meet them there. It would be fine. It’s gonna be fine. He kept that looping in his head. He felt shakier than normal, feeling too much at once, his heart racing a little too fast as he made the trek to Coach Yamiji’s office. The door had materialized in front of him before he could wonder any longer why he was feeling everything so sharply. He knocked before stepping inside.

“Hi, Coach. I wanted to talk to you a little bit before we get too far into the season.”

“Of course, Akaashi. What’s on your mind?”

Akaashi took a seat in front of his desk, momentarily letting himself be distracted by the shelves of trophies, the walls lined with plaques and news headlines, the hooks mounted with medals. His thumbs twirled like dancers about each other, without his control.

“Well, I believe you know about my... condition?”

He hesitated to glance upward, getting a singular nod in response.

“I just wanted to talk to you about this, or, well my, disease a little, if that’s ok? I don’t really have control over my episodes. I take medication to help prevent episodes or put them off for as long as possible, but ultimately they come over me randomly. I know I’m a liability to the team, but I want nothing more than to play. But if at any point you decide it would be better if I—“

“Akaashi, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to tell you something before you finish that sentence. I wouldn’t have chosen you for this team if I didn’t think it would be worth it. I knew about your disease the second you turned in your application. I have to say, I was a little skeptical at first. But, after the skill, the hard work, I saw at the tryout and at practice today, I have no doubt in my mind that this team needs you. I researched as much as I could about Kleine-Levin Syndrome, and I want you to know that whatever happens, we’ll work through it. I believe in you, and I want you to know that if anything bad happens, it’s not your fault. No one on this team will blame you—“ Akaashi’s eyes widened, mouth opening, but Coach continued on— “And before you ask, I haven’t told them about your condition. I figured that was something you should be able to do on your own terms. But keep in mind, while I can already tell your skills as a setter are something incredible, and something that this team will no doubt help you nurture and build upon, if anything unexpected is to happen, Konoha can hold his own while you take time to get back to us. It’s gonna be fine. I look forward to a strong three years with you on our team.”

Coach gave him a smile when he finished. Akaashi felt hot tears pouring unbidden down his cheeks, bringing one hand up in a desperate attempt to wipe them away. He choked out a thank you, standing to bow, putting a hand out to shake his coach’s hand. Yamiji reciprocated warmly, ruffling Akaashi’s curls before sitting back in his desk.

“Go have fun with your teammates. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He passed Keiji a tissue. He took it graciously and stepped out of the room. The sharp feeling hadn’t gone away, had actually gotten a little worse, and he slid down the wall outside the office door, cradling his head in his hands and trying to suck in air around the tightness in his throat. He felt relieved from what Yamiji said, ecstatic in fact that he had such an understanding person in his life besides his mother. So why was he feeling so terrified?

He couldn’t breathe, everything felt muted like he was underwater, but hightened at the same time. He looked at his hands. They were shaking. He didn’t need to feel his pulse to know his heart was beating beyond a healthy tempo— he could hear it pounding in his ears.

He was sure this was a panic attack. This wasn’t the first time; having an illness that struck him unpredictably led to a less than stress free life. But his anxiety medication was supposed to prevent this. It had so far. He tried to think through his day, remember if he’d taken his pills, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t breathe.

Unsteadily, he got to his feet, stumbling back toward the locker room. He needed to get to his bag, needed to see if he’d taken his pills at lunch. He was starting to think he hadn’t. His fumbling fingers fished for the doorknob. His knees were wobbling at a concerning velocity, and he leaned heavily into the door. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face, his neck, his back. He might have been hyperventilating, but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his heart slamming painfully into his rib cage, couldn’t feel oxygen flooding his lungs like it should be.

“AKAA— ...Akaashi?”

Akaashi’s eyes were like a caged animal as they darted upwards, quickly taking in Bokuto’s form from where it had leapt off the locker room bench, arms slowly falling from where he’d thrown them above his head. He had dropped his bag, and the sound of it was echoing in Akaashi’s brain. His body was vibrating at an inhuman rate. A sob wrenched its was through his clenched jaw.

“I, uhmm... bag,” he forced out of his meddled mouth, a convulsing hand pointing limply toward his bag.

Bokuto sprang into action, retrieving the bag as Akaashi crumpled to the floor. Akaashi watched, detached, as it was set beside him, as Bokuto knealt down before him, grabbed his hand, placed it on his own chest.

“Ok, ‘Kaashi. Can you hear me?”

A feeble nod. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the beating under his fingertips was more grounding than the floor swaying under his legs.

“Good. I want you to breathe with me, ok? Ready? In. Out.”

Bokuto made an exaggerated show of sucking a breath in, releasing it, repeating the action again and again. Hours may have passed, but Akaashi finally started to feel his head clear. He kept breathing with Bokuto, but turned his face to his bag, using his free hand to rummage for his meds. Today’s box was full. Just as he thought. He set the container on the floor, his shaking hand making a lame attempt to open it. Calm fingers cupped his chin, pulling his attention back to golden eyes that were smoldering slowly, warm, comforting.

“Shh. Keep breathing with me, yeah? Just close your eyes. In and out.”

Akaashi let his eyelids flutter shut, let the soothing sounds wash over him. He heard a faint pop. The hand not caged to Bokuto’s chest was opened inch by inch, small pills placed in his palm. Keiji brought them to his lips, let them roll onto his tongue. A water bottle was given to him. He took it, sucked in a mouthful, swallowed everything down. Back to breathing. In and out. In and out. In, out.

He knew it took half an hour for his meds to kick in, knew that when he started to breathe normally on his own again it meant Bokuto had sat there with him for thirty minutes. He was embarrassed. He’d only known Bokuto for a day and now he had broken down in front of him. But instead of freaking out, he had been calm and supportive. Gratitude began to ebb over Keiji in waves. If he had had any tears left to cry, they would have bubbled over his swollen eyes. Instead, he tried to speak.

“Bokuto-san. Th-thank you, I—“ his voice cut off and he couldn’t get anything out again. He let his teeth click back into place.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Bokuto murmured after a few moments. “My little sister gets anxiety attacks a lot, I could see the signs. How are you feeling? If you’re not up to meeting with the team, I can walk you home.”

Bokuto was speaking slowly and quietly. Akaashi was sure he would’ve been surprised if he wasn’t so shaken. Only now that he was on his way back to normal could he hear the slight buzzing of Bokuto’s phone from where it lay, forgotten, in his fallen bag, could he see his inanely large pill organizer sitting with today’s date opened, on the floor. He looked at the clock up on the wall. It read 6:15. That was probably one of his quickest recoveries from a panic attack, though he wasn’t fully stable yet. He was overwhelmed again with gratitude that Bokuto didn’t press for why he had panicked or why he needed so much medication; he wasn’t sure he was ready to entrust those answers to anyone.

Some unrational part of his brain still wanted to meet up with the team, wanted Bokuto to pick up his phone and tell them they were on their way. His stomach growled to agree with it.

“I think I need to sit down a little longer. But I want to go see everyone.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly before he nodded and smiled his best reassuring smile.

“Sure thing, Akaashi! Here, have some more water.”

Akaashi let himself be mothered until his head fully cleared, his hands stopped shaking, his heart nestled back in his chest, his legs supported his weight on their own. He chugged the rest of water. His face was set in determination.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he said in his usual monotone, bowing low enough to kiss his knees. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make this up to you.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s no problem! I promise! I’m just glad you’re ok! We can’t be losing our setter on the first day, now, can we?” That wild grin snapped to serious in less time than it took Akaashi to blink. “Are you sure you still wanna go out, though? I swear it’s no trouble at all if you want to go home. I have no problem making sure you get there safe.”

“Yes, I’m sure, Bokuto-san. Thank you for your concern. I actually have worked up quite the appetite. Though, if it’s not too much to ask, would you be willing to accompany me home afterward?”

“Yeah! Of course! Now, let’s go get some yakiniku!!” He hooted loudly, hefting his bag up from its resting place on the floor, the strap finding a home on his forehead in his haste.

Akaashi stared after him for a moment, letting himself take one final deep breath. He gathered his things and scrambled out the door, composing himself as he caught up with the black and white head bobbing cheerily along. There were many things he felt he was going to learn from his new team. A sharp jolt of anticipation swept through his veins, almost completely washing out the aftershocks of his anxiety attack. He sighed as they left the gym, listening to the sound of their feet change as they smacked against the concrete, of Bokuto chattering happily about grilled meat. Finally, he let himself relax.

————————————————————————

The walk to the yakiniku place felt relatively short. Bokuto kept Akaashi’s mind occupied the whole time, talking about food or volleyball or owls or whatever thought came into his head at that moment. Akaashi found himself breathing easier in the outdoors.

“Well, here we are!” Bokuto threw his arms open wide and came to a sudden halt in front of a little hole in the wall restaurant. Akaashi was skeptical, but the smell wafting through his very being was quite convincing. Bokuto rushed in the door, holding it open as an afterthought for Akaashi, and ran toward the calls of their teammates. Akaashi followed calmly, a small wave greeting everyone as he took a seat.

“We ordered an all you can eat while we waited for you, so dig in!” Matsui offered a toothy grin as Bokuto and Akaashi settled in, “Don’t worry about helping pay, it’s my treat! Pay me back with your dedication, and let’s have a good year!” Everyone raised their glasses to that, clinking them with a yell.

Akaashi couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so much or fallen so easily into conversation. He learned Komi had a hamster that he was teaching to play volleyball; video evidence was given, and Akaashi could barely stifle his giggles behind a hand as it fell asleep holding a miniature volleyball. He assured everyone that he was working on it and that Libby had definitely passed a ball back to him before. Konoha was surprisingly good at catching food in his mouth. No matter what was thrown to him, he effortlessly caught it. Matsui wasn’t upset until Bokuto gave it a try, pieces of meat littering the floor around him with each failed attempt, juice dripping down his face. He had about a 70 percent accuracy rate. Konoha promised to give him pointers some other time. A shadow passed over Matsui’s face, and Akaashi let his attention wander elsewhere as he threatened Bokuto against wasting another precious slice of beef. Aoyama was more of a listener, and Akaashi found himself drawn to his quiet energy. He kept whispering sarcastic comments under his breath, and from Akaashi’s seat next to him, he could pick them all up. A surprised snort escaped him on more than one occasion. Washio, despite his outward appearance, was the most gentle giant Akaashi had ever met. Grilled meat magically appeared before each person in an almost endless stream, a glimpse of Washio silently sliding a cut onto Akaashi’s plate the only way he knew its source. Sarukui was a fountain of sunshine and puns, telling each person at the table how “udder-ly excited” he was for the season at least five times before moving to asking if they were “a-moo-sed” by his word play. Several sighs and eye rolls made themselves prominent. Akaashi quickly determined this was a common occurrence, and let it amuse him for the time being.

A pang went through his chest when everyone was done eating. Oddly enough, being with the team had helped him settle; he felt almost completely calm now. Akaashi wondered, as they all continued to sit, if this is what it would be like to have siblings, this constant stream of chatter and fond smiles and playful teasing. He took comfort in the fact that he had a year to enjoy getting to know everyone, to meld into their family. He smiled as everyone stood from their seats.

“Thank you for dinner, Matsui-san. And thank you all for waiting up for me and Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said with a bow. Unbeknownst to him, which was quickly becoming a common theme in his life, it couldn’t hide his lopsided grin. Matsui ruffled his hair and flashed a smile in return. A shout of, “THANKS, MATSUI!” thundered through the restaurant as the rest of the team echoed Akaashi, Bokuto trying his best to yell around the piping hot mound of steak he had shoveled into his mouth.

They walked out the doors together, babbling and giggling as they moved, a little drowsy from the sheer amount of food each of them had consumed, no thanks to Matsui or Washio. At the storefront they split: Komi racing to catch up with Aoyama and Matsui; Washio and Sarukui tugging along a drowsy Konoha who had had to be supported out of the restaurant on his wobbly legs, falling asleep while he walked— Keiji knew that feeling all too well; and Akaashi starting off only to hear the uneven pounding of increasingly more familiar footsteps following. Bokuto took his laser vision off the ground.

“Hwmmf mfphsm fmpf?”

Akaashi slowly raised an eyebrow, shifting his bag to the opposite shoulder and looking at Bokuto. Saliva tracked down his swollen cheeks like honey, making a water-dampened circle appear on his shirt for the second time in as many hours. Akaashi must have missed him stuffing more food into his face as they exited, because his cheeks were stretched impossibly wide by beef. His eyebrow rose steadily higher.

“Bokuto-san, please finish chewing before you speak.”

With a swallow that looked terribly painful, the wince that accompanied it only proving his mistake, Bokuto tried again.

“How are you feeling after food?” He shot a soft smile down at Akaashi and then trained his focus to the floor once more, tongue poking through the side of his teeth, taking uneven steps to avoid touching cracks in the sidewalk beneath them.

“I’m feeling good, thank you.” He appreciated Bokuto’s attempt to look decidedly uninvested, but Akaashi wanted to put the locker room incident as far behind him as possible. “I didn’t know Konoha was so bad at eating.”

A raucous laugh was pulled from the older boy. “He just gets sleepy. He probably eats the most out of all of us, but he gets really tired afterward. He won’t let himself eat that much on game days, I don’t think he’d be able to play. And really, the only thing Konoha likes more than eating is volleyball. He’s like a puppy.” It was Akaashi’s turn to tilt his head in question.

“The only things he does are eat, sleep, and play. You know, I used to have a puppy. Well, used to because she’s a big girl now, but she was the tiniest thing. She’s a pit bull, and she’s so sweet. We got her for my little sister’s third birthday, and she named the dog Honey Bear. It’s fitting, I think. I don’t understand the stigma about pit bulls, they’re just big lap dogs. We rescued Honey, actually. Apparently the family who had her first didn’t know she was a pit bull when they got her. When they found that out they tied her up in their backyard and neglected her. The people who saved her said she had been making the most pitiful howls for three days before they realized she was in danger. It makes my heart hurt to think about.”

He ruffled in his bag for something while Akaashi sat in awe of how quickly his mind could just... shift topics. He wondered how many times it was possible to feel thankful for one person in only a few hours, sure he was meeting a record level today. Bokuto snapped back to full height, phone in hand. Waving it excitedly in Akaashi’s face, effectively snapping him out of his thoughts, he turned it on.

“Looooook!!!! She’s so cute!”

Akaashi cupped the sides of the phone to steady it and looked at his lock screen. A little gray dog stared innocently up at him, small black splotches littering its hair with one almost curiously heart shaped across its snout. Akaashi thought it was suspiciously familiar.

“She is very cute,” he hummed as he let go of the phone.

“Say, ‘Kaashi?” Akaashi glanced at him sideways, imploring him to go on. “Where exactly is your house?”

Only then did Akaashi realize how far they had already walked. “It’s just down the street up ahead, on the left. Why do you ask?”

“OHO HO HO! Because mine is across the street there!” Bokuto’s arm shot to the right, pointing to a little cottage style house with a slightly faded white fence, a dog just visible inside with its nose pressed to the front window. Akaashi now realized why the dog looked familiar. Early morning runs were probably the reason behind why Akaashi had never seen Bokuto before.

“We moved here last year since I got accepted to Fukurodani!” Or that was the reason. Akaashi smiled to himself as they walked the rest of the way to his house, thanking Bokuto profusely as he turned to walk inside. Bokuto waved with flare and then sprinted the few blocks to his own home. The last thing that Akaashi thought after he walked inside, showered, got ready for bed, tucked himself in and settled, was that their proximity would make it easier for him to ask to join the morning runs. He fell asleep smiling, hopeful.

————————————————————————                      <PREVIOUS || NEXT>

[chaoticsweet]

𓂅      georgietime​   ,

she settles herself a little better after being assured that amabella was fine, letting out a sigh of relief. while madeline mackenzie was a chaos easier to manage, renata klein was a whole tornado, ready to ruin or complicate georgia’s job at any given women. being fair (maybe a little bit too fair, when talking about renata), every woman in monterey is a bit like that: waves clashing between themselves waiting for their moment to crash. it must be something in the water and it runs even deeper in the mothers, georgie is sure. “then it’s all great. you’d think we are kidnapping the kids, looking by their reactions!” she silently nods to herself, looking through the window. it’s no good complaining about the mothers, she knows, and she’d probably be a mama bear herself if she had any children to look after. the few hours she spent being responsible for celeste wright’s twins were enough for her, fortunately.

she is tough! she mouths to the kids behind them, openly smiling. it’s good to be on marina’s side, the woman not only being one of the few teachers she could totally trust, but also always being so nice. it’s not unusual for her to feel that they work in different paces, marina being in a faster one, but she is still able to follow the teacher’s track, not missing any beat (at least that’s what she likes to think). she picks up her beloved and huge crossword book from the bag, ready to occupy herself if things got a little quiet or umconfortable between them, but that’s where she is wrong, forgetting that, somehow, marina seems to akways make sure that she is fine. “yes, i do! great kid. it runs in the family.” she chuckles, glancing over marina’s tricot. from what she knew, georgia liked all the fergursons, including evie. she actually had a little problem when brooke was around the school, always giving her some nice treats to eat. then she got scared that she’d give her diabetes, and put some healthy snacks in the mix. and then stopped altogether, for brooke was already too grown to be there. “did they? i was going to say i was offended, but i think i get it. i don’t get out of my office much, do i? a little bit like the phantom and the opera, always around. i think you should double that bet, actually. wanna send a selfie to them?”

        marina :       i  know  .  .  .      (    almost  regretfully  marina  agrees,    a  frown  shaping  her  features  for  a  mere  second  or  two.    )    i  promise  they’ll  have  the  best  time  ,    though    .    it’ll  all  be  worth  it  at  the  end  of  the  day  .    something  tells  me  even  us  old  hags  might  have  a  little  fun  in  the  process  ,    minus  the  kicking  on  our  backs  .

it’s  grown  a  little  natural  on  her,    braving  through  the  awful  storm  of  concerned  parents  in  order  to  achieve  another  one  of  those  magical,  romanticized  school  days  with  her  kids.    marina  knows;    she’s  fully  aware  that  picking  a  more  traditional  approach  could  save  her  a  great  deal  of  worried  parents  calls  as  well  as  a  bunch  of  aging  lines  on  her  incredibly  expressive  face,    but  still,  it  was  worth  it.    evie  always  pumped  her  up  about  it;    if  she  didn’t  do  it,    then  what  would  it  be  of  those  brilliant  little  minds  that  were  unluckily  born  on  the  dullest  town  in  the  bay  area?  monterey  wasn’t  bad    --    but  she  was  aware  that  some  parents  were  trying  to  stop  even  madeline  mackenzie’s  play,    or  that  somehow  poppy  bergstein’s  paintings  about  embracing  the  female  sexuality  still  shocked  a  few  middle  aged  mothers  to  their  core.    the  extent  of  their  mind’s  narrowness  still  managed  to  find  marina  astonished  after  all  these  years.    if  she  could  be  the  one  spark  to  propel  some  of  those  kids  into  thinking  a  few  inches  outside  that  saltbox  mentality,    then  maybe...    it  was  fine  that  marina  herself  didn’t  make  it  all  the  way  out  there.

thinking  of  it,    she  wouldn’t  have  wanted  it  any  different.    not  even  the  sad  bits.    not  even  the  grief,    or  the  staying  behind  while  year  after  year  she  got  photographs  of  the  exciting  adventures  of  the  fergusons  out  in  the  world.    it  was  good  that  she  was  still  there,    in  a  way.    she  loves  still  waking  up  and  knowing  that  she  could  trace  her  entire  life  in  that  simple  house  in  monterey.    this  is  her  studio,    but  one  time,    she  was  standing  there  by  the  window  and  her  mother  walked  in  with  melissa  in  her  arms.    she  held  her  baby  sister  for  the  first  time  there.    and  down  the  stairs  was  the  kitchen,    where  all  those  years  ago  chris  would  chase  her  making  ghostly  sounds  while  the  power  was  off.    and  the  couch  on  her  porch  looks  old  and  dusty  already,    but  there’s  no  way  she’s  getting  rid  of  it,    because  that’s  where  brookey  hid  for  two  whole  hours  as  a  kid,    and  she  searched  desperately,    cursing  how  many  places  were  there  in  that  house  where  a  little  girl  could  hide?  brooke  was  too  old  for  hide  and  seek  now,    and  chris  cringed  a  little  every  time  marina  mimicked  his  ghost  impression,    but  she  was  still  her  aunt,  and  his  little  sister,    and  she  would  bet  she  could  still  hold  melissa  in  her  arms  if  she  put  her  mind  to  it  just  enough.    she  wouldn’t  want  to  do  go  anywhere  too  far  from  that  little  house  in  that  little  town;    it  still  mattered  that  she  could  be  the  home  they  could  all  eventually  come  back  to  in  the  end.

        marina :       that  it  does  ,    (    she  smiles,    internally  dreading  the  familiar  heat  that  went  up  her  neck  and  coloured  her  cheeks  a  healthy  tone  of  pink.    god,    it  should  be  illegal  for  a  fully  grown  woman  to  blush  that  way.    )    oh  ,    come  on  !    you’re  nothing  like  the  phantom  .    i  mean  ,    maybe  a  little  mysterious  and  i’m  pretty  sure  you  could  make  that  sexy  scar  look  work  ,    but  i  mean  ...    (    she  laughs  at  the  thought,    one  very  lonely  georgia  clad  in  black  and  a  dramatic  mask,    haunting  the  corridors  of  a  forgotten  theater  and  pining  for  a  dreamy  eyed  artist.    why  did  marina  just  imagine  herself  in  the  skin  of  corinne  daae?    )    you’re  just  ...    low  profile  .    i  think  it’s  cool  .

       marina :       ah    !      i  .  .  .    will  .    and  i’m  never  saying  no  to  a  selfie  .  .  .        (    the  mention  of  sending  her  family  a  photograph  does  wonders  to  dissipate  the  increasing  tension  building  up  on  her  hands  following  the  tentative  compliments.    marina  was  in  no  way  new  to  praising  the  people  she  was  fond  of,    let  alone  a  certain  headmistress,    but  sometimes  she  caught  her  own  tongue  a  little  too  late.    she  bites  her  lip  as  her  hand  searches  her  bag,    finally  grasping  her  cellphone  with  a  victorious  aha!,    and  opens  up  the  camera  with  a  single  swipe  of  her  index  finger.    )

      marina :       brookey’s  gonna  be  so  happy  .    she  always  says  she  wishes  the  school  would  extend  its  years  so  she’d  have  an  excuse  to  hang  around  your  office  like  she  used  to  ,    (    the  woman  adds  with  a  pout,    that  familiar  pool  of  affection  bubbling  on  her  chest  as  she  scoots  closer  to  georgie’s  side  and  extends  her  arm,    carefully  picking  an  angle  that  would  have  their  skins  glowing  under  the  early  morning  sun.    makes  sure  georgia  is  good  to  go  and  takes  a  few  shots,    smile  increasingly  open  as  she  watches  the  two  of  them  on  the  screen,    and  then  just  returns  to  her  spot,    contently  looking  at  the  result  for  a  few  seconds.    there  should  also  be  a  level  of  illegality  to  the  way  that  brief  proximity  made  her  heart  thump  a  few  times  just  there.    )    i  feel  like  i  owe  you  a  little  .    those  forty  bucks  won  on  your  behalf  are  gonna  have  to  find  their  way  back  to  you  somehow  .    you  think  the  souvenir  shop  will  have  somethin’  fancy  that’ll  catch  your  eye  ?

[shelleyseale]

Power Play: Theater Productions Highlighting Women of History

From Ann Richards to Princess Diana to the Six wives of Henry VIII, these three productions highlight famous women of history

Director Benjamin Endsley Klein, Star Libby Villari, Writer Holland Taylor, and Stage Manager Robert Tolaro. Photo by ZACH.

ANN by Holland Taylor

Tough as nails. Funny as hell. ANN is an intimate, no-holds-barred portrait of Ann Richards, the legendary late Governor of Texas. This inspiring and hilarious play brings us face to face with a complex, colorful, and captivating character bigger than the state from which she hailed. Written and originally performed by Emmy Award-winner Holland Taylor, ANN takes a revealing look at the impassioned woman who enriched the lives of her followers, friends, and family. At ZACH Theatre in Austin, Texas, Libby Villari brings Ann Richards to life this summer in Holland Taylor’s Broadway hit. Original Broadway Director Benjamin Endsley Klein returns with most of the Lincoln Center Broadway creative team to resurrect this larger-than-life character in Austin. Villari is best known for her role as Mayor Lucy Rodell on the hit TV show Friday Night Lights, which was filmed in Texas. ANN will play at ZACH through September 8, 2019. “I do not want my tombstone to read, ‘She kept a really clean house.' I think I'd like them to remember me by saying, ‘She opened government to everyone'.” - Ann Richards

The Six Wives of Henry VIII

The first North American production of “Six,” a British pop musical about the guess-how-many wives of Henry VIII, is now running at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater. The production will make stops in Massachusetts, Alberta and Minnesota before arriving on Broadway in New York early next year. "For centuries, the wives of England’s King Henry VIII have been remembered largely for the ways their marriages came to an end," writes Michael Paulson in The New York Times. "Divorced. Beheaded. Died. Divorced. Beheaded. Survived. Now comes a pair of young British theater-makers, Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss, with a revisionist take on those sorry stories: 'Six,' a pop musical in which each woman gets, at least for a few minutes, to reframe her fame." Featuring an all-female cast and an all-female band, “Six” is structured as a singing competition with the women’s miserable marriages as the theme. The show is directed by Lucy Moss and Jamie Armitage. Already a hit in London’s West End, the  Chicago Shakespeare Theater's 12-week run sold out and broke box-office records. It was so popular, in fact, that the theater had to add seating capacity.

"Princess Diana: the Musical" Playing in Theaters Across U.S.

With July 29th having marked the 38th anniversary of the marriage between Princess Diana and Prince Charles, it’s a poignant reminder of how beloved “Princess Di” was in life and so remains in death. With this in mind, award-winning singer-songwriter Karen Sokolof Javitch has written the “Princess Diana: the Musical” that spotlights Princess’ relationship with Prince Charles, focusing on their courtship, marriage and divorce. "The marriage is still the most watched royal wedding in history,” notes Javitch. “Millions still remember how Princess Diana omitted the word ‘obey’ for the first time ever in a royal wedding, and so began a reverence for this maverick royal."

For this touching, one-of-a-kind musical, Javitch wrote all 32 of the songs, arranged by Chuck Penington of Mannheim Steamroller, which reflect Diana’s transition from being an unknown 19-year old to becoming one of the most famous women in the world. Not surprisingly, the musical is gaining in popularity and has been produced by theater groups and troupes in multiple cities across the United States. Musical theater buffs may listen to one of the songs from the show, “There Was a Time,” t hat was the main song to “Princess Diana: The Musical,” here and the full array of songs may be accessed on Javitch’s web site here. Besides Javitch having co-written four musicals performed throughout America, she’s also produced no less than 15 albums with original music and was the creator and co-host of a popular radio show, “It’s the Beat.” Her family-friendly music includes a variety of songs about exercising and good health, celebrities, holidays, weddings, politics, children, babies, education, patriotism, love and family.  Also philanthropic, Javitch has raised over $350,000 for national and local charities through her original music. Especially this month, Javitch’s "Princess Diana: the Musical" represents one phenomenon celebrating another—a noble endeavor indeed. Read the full article

[profeminist]

The BIG list of free Feminist / Gender / Audiobooks by Women via Audible.com

Updated 4/23/17: Here is a masterlist of feminist books and books by or about women and the LGBTQIA+ community that are available for free with a trial signup to Audible.com. As I update the list over the coming week I’ll reflect the current date at the top of the list!

Through a current promotion, you can sign up for a free trial, cancel within 30 days and you get to keep the two books forever! 

30 days of membership free, plus two free audiobooks that are yours forever.

1 credit a month after trial, good for any book regardless of price.

Exclusive members savings. Get 30% off any additional audiobooks.

Easy exchanges. Don’t love a book? Swap it for free, anytime. Seriously.

PLEASE REMEMBER: After 30 days it’s $14.95/month, so set yourself a calendar alert to cancel if you’re not interested in continuing. I don’t want anyone to get an unbudgeted $14.95 charge because they forgot to cancel!

Here’s the link: Audible Free Trial Digital Membership  

AVAILABLE AUDIOBOOKS (updated 4/23/17)

Feminist  Books

Margaret Atwood: The Handmaid’s Tale

Laura Bates: Everyday Sexism

Jessica Benett: Feminist Fight Club: An Office Survival Manual for a Sexist Workplace

Susan Brownmiller: Femininity

Annie E. Clark and Andrea L. Pino: We Believe You: Survivors of Campus Sexual Assault Speak Out

Kira Cochrane: All the Rebel Women: The Rise of the Fourth Wave of Feminism

Angela Y. Davis:  Freedom Is a Constant Struggle: Ferguson, Palestine, and the Foundations of a Movement

Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering: The Hunting Ground: The Inside Story of Sexual Assault on American College Campuses

Nora Ephron: Crazy Salad and Scribble, Scribble: Some Things About Women and Notes on Media

Nora Ephron: I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts On Being A Woman

Roxane Gay: Bad Feminist: Essays

Kate Harding: Asking for It: The Alarming Rise of Rape Culture - and What We Can Do About It

Jill Lepore: The Secret History of Wonder Woman

Ariel Levy: Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture

Audre Lorde: Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches

Catilin Moran: How to Be a Woman

Catilin Moran: How to Build a Girl  

Caitlin Moran: Moranifesto

Kate Harding: Asking for It: The Alarming Rise of Rape Culture - and What We Can Do About It

Tamara Winfrey Harris: The Sisters Are Alright: Changing the Broken Narrative of Black Women in America  

Jack Holland:  A Brief History of Misogyny: the World’s Oldest Prejudice

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie : Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: We Should All Be Feminists

Peggy Orenstein: Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches from the Front Lines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture

Peggy Orenstein: Girls & Sex: Navigating the Complicated New Landscape

Tony Porter: Breaking Out of the “Man Box”: The Next Generation of Manhood

Phoebe Robinson: You Can’t Touch My Hair: And Other Things I Still Have to Explain

Sheryl Sandberg: Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead

Sheryl Sandberg: Lean In for Graduates

Kate Schatz: Rad American Women A-Z: Rebels, Trailblazers, and Visionaries Who Shaped Our History…and Our Future!

Gloria Steinem:Moving Beyond Words: Essays on Age, Rage, Sex, Power, Money, Muscles: Breaking the Boundaries of Gender

Gloria Steinem:Outrageous Acts and Everyday Rebellions

Rebecca Traister:  All the Single Ladies: Unmarried Women and the Rise of an Independent Nation

Jessica Valenti: Full Frontal Feminism: A Young Woman’s Guide to Why Feminism Matters

Jessica Valenti: Sex Object: A Memoir

Jessica Valenti: The Purity Myth: How America’s Obsession with Virginity Is Hurting Young Women

Jessica Valenti: He’s a Stud, She’s a Slut, and 49 Other Double Standards Every Woman Should Know

Lindy West: Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman

Naomi Wolf: The Beauty Myth: How Images of Beauty Are Used Against Women

Mary Wollstonecraft:  A Vindication of the Rights of Woman

Malala Yousafzai: I Am Malala: How One Girl Stood Up for Education and Changed the World

Andi Zeisler: We Were Feminists Once: From Riot Grrrl to CoverGirl®, the Buying and Selling of a Political Movement

LGBTQIA+ Authors

Dorothy Allison: Bastard Out of Carolina: A Novel

James Baldwin: Notes of a Native Son

Alan Cummings: Not My Father’s Son: A Memoir

Ellen DeGeneres: Seriously … I’m Kidding

Ellen DeGeneres: The Funny Thing Is …

Jennifer Finney Boylan: She’s Not There: A Life in Two Genders

Laura Jane Grace: Tranny; Confessions of Punk Rock’s Most Infamous Anarchist Sellout

Hannah Hart: Buffering: Unshared Tales of a Life Fully Loaded

Jazz Jennings: Being Jazz: My Life as a (Transgender) Teen

Janet Mock: Redefining Realness: My Path to Womanhood, Identity, Love & So Much More

Tig Notaro: I’m Just a Person

Funny Women

Samantha Bee: I Know I Am, But What Are You?

Carol Burnett: In Such Good Company: Eleven Years of Laughter, Mayhem, and Fun in the Sandbox

Carol Burnett: This Time Together: Laughter and Reflection

Ellen DeGeneres: Seriously … I’m Kidding

Felicia Day: You’re Never Weird on the Internet (Almost)

Rachel Dratch: Girl Walks into a Bar…: Comedy Calamities, Dating Disasters, and a Midlife Miracle

Tina Fey, Bossypants

Miranda Hart: Is It Just Me?

Miranda Hart: Miranda Hart’s Joke Shop

Mindy Kaling: Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)

Mindy Kaling:  Why Not Me?

Anna Kendrick: Scrappy Little Nobody

Jessi Klein: You’ll Grow Out of It

Jane Lynch: Happy Accidents

Tig Notaro: I’m Just a Person

Amy Poehler: Yes Please

Issa Rae: The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl

Sarah Silverman: The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption, and Pee

Aisha Tyler: Self-Inflicted Wounds: Heartwarming Tales of Epic Humiliation

Betty White: If You Ask Me (And of Course You Won’t)

Betty White: Here We Go Again: My Life In Television

Rocking Women

Carrie Brownstein:  Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl: A Memoir

Kim Gordon: Girl In a Band: A Memoir

Athletes & Coaches

Simone Biles: Courage to Soar: A Body in Motion, A Life in Balance

Tamika Catchings: Catch a Star: Shining through Adversity to Become a Champion

Gabrielle Douglas: Grace, Gold, and Glory My Leap of Faith

Laurie Hernandez: I Got This: To Gold and Beyond

Carli Lloyd: All Heart: My Dedication and Determination to Become One of Soccer’s Best

Pat Head Summitt: Sum It Up: A Thousand and Ninety-Eight Victories, a Couple of Irrelevant Losses, and a Life in Perspective

Abby Wambach: Forward: A Memoir

More Memoirs  

Maya Angelou: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Drew Barrymore: Wildflower

Carrie Fisher: The Princess Diarist

Anne Frank: Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl

Ruth Bader Ginsburg: My Own Words

Diane Guerrero: In the Country We Love: My Family Divided

Taraji P. Henson: Around the Way Girl: A Memoir

Coretta Scott King: My Life, My Love, My Legacy

Zora Neale Hurston: Dust Tracks on a Road: An Autobiography

Angie Martinez: My Voice: A Memoir

Shonda Rhimes: Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand In the Sun and Be Your Own Person

Robin Roberts: Everybody’s Got Something

Hillary Rodham Clinton: Living History

Hillary Rodham Clinton: Hard Choices

Sonia Sotomayor: My Beloved World

Gloria Steinem: My Life on the Road

Lindsey Stirling: The Only Pirate at the Party

Cheryl Strayed: Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

Amy Tan: The Opposite of Fate: Memories of a Writing Life

Elizabeth Warren: A Fighting Chance

Elizabeth Warren: This Fight Is Our Fight: The Battle to Save America’s Middle Class

Mara Wilson: Where Am I Now? True Stories of Girlhood and Accidental Fame

Novelists & Short Story Writers

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: Americanah

Isabel Allende: The House of the Spirits: A Novel

Jane Austin: Pride and Prejudice

Lucia Berlin: A Manual for Cleaning Women: Selected Stories

Charlotte Bronte: Jane Eyre

Emily Bronte: Wuthering Heights

Kate Burton: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Octavia Butler: Parable of the Talents

Octavia Butler: Kindred

Octavia Butler: Parable of the Sower

Louise Erdrich: The Round House: A Novel

Cristina Garcia: Dreaming in Cuban

Nadia Hashimi: The Pearl That Broke Its Shell

Shirley Jackson: We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Maxine Hong Kingston: The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts

Jhumpa Lahiri: Interpreter of Maladies

Doris Lessing: The Golden Notebook

Audre Lord: Zami: A New Spelling of My Name

Zora Neale Hurston: Their Eyes Were Watching God

Leslie Marmon Silko: Ceremony

Leslie Marmon Silko: Almanac of the Dead

Leslie Marmon Silko: Storyteller

Gloria Naylor: Women of Brewster Place

Gloria Naylor: Mama Day

Gloria Naylor: Bailey’s Café

Ann Patchett: Commonwealth

J.K. Rowling: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Zadie Smith: Swing Time

Amy Tan: The Joy Luck Club

Amy Tan: The Kitchen God’s Wife

Amy Tan: The Bonesetter’s Daughter

Angie Thomas: The Hate U Give

Toni Morrison: Home: A Novel

Toni Morrison: Sula

Toni Morrison: Song of Solomon

Toni Morrison: Beloved

Toni Morrison: The Bluest Eye

Toni Morrison: Sula

Ntozake Shange: For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf

Sarah Vowell: Unfamiliar Fishes

Alice Walker: The Color Purple

Virginia Woolf: Mrs. Dalloway

Virginia Woolf: To the Lighthouse

Virginia Woolf: The Waves

Virginia Woolf: A Room of One’s Own

Non-Fiction and Political Writers

Michelle Alexander: The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness

Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz: An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States: Revisioning American History

Melissa V. Harris-Perry: Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America

Rachel Maddow: Drift: The Unmooring of American Military Power

Reshma Saujani: Girls Who Code: Learn to Code and Change the World

Margot Lee Shetterly: Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race

[luckylq39-blog]

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[bolachasgratis]

TakeRoot Festival 2019: our picks

The Grote Zaal of De Oosterpoort during the 2018′s TakeRoot festival.

TakeRoot Festival. Saturday, 2 November 2019, at De Oosterpoort, Groningen, The Netherlands. Tickets for sale here.

Coming of age in the era of MySpace meant stumbling into a lot of “A little bit of everything, except country and rap” on your fellow scenester’s profiles. Fast forward some 15 years, and there’s a rapper headlining your favorite indie festival, much to the disgust of a few folks who haven’t grown from their proud everything-except-country-and-rap pedestal. But most young alternative Europeans still look at country music with the same disgusted look that your aunt made the first time she stumbled upon a 50 Cent music video.

“Country” might be a term that is too generic to describe what TakeRoot is all about - so let’s go with their definition. TakeRoot is a festival for “past, present and future American music”. Its focus on “americana” – a more palatable term that encompasses not only country music, but also every genre that developed in its margins – would mean a ticket office disaster in most places in mainland Europe, but this is different. We are in Groningen, in the north of the Netherlands, the most americana-positive country in the continent, and the only place where the best European festival of the genre could take place. Young and old, coming from other Dutch cities or from abroad, you’ll struggle to find an unhappy face in the crowd. It’s our fourth time in a row visiting Groningen for the TakeRoot festival, and this year we decided to tell you all about it. Because if there’s a festival that your friends at Bolachas are jealous of not having invented it, it’s definitely TakeRoot. Bear with us while we swoon over one of the most #bolachascore events of the festival season.

TakeRoot 2018′s aftermovie, featuring Father John Misty, Sarah Shook & the Disarmers, Marlon Williams, and more.

24 artists playing 6 stages in 8 hours might seem like an overload, and it’s not always easy to find time for a bathroom, drink or food break. (Truth be told, we can always find time for a quick drink break in the amazing gift from God that is that craft beer bar just below the foyer stage.) Every year, some painful clashes end up breaking your heart. But, unlike most festivals, those don’t happen because of poor planning – they happen because the odds of a fan of the genre not liking even 1/4 of the artists are just too small. Fortunately, we’re here to help you navigate the lineup.

16:00. You’ve just arrived, found a place upstairs to hang your coat for a couple of euros (it’s going to be freezing outside after midnight, kids), you’re trying to make a sense of the huge Oosterpoort building, with its multiple rooms and stairways. It’s very likely that you’ll end up in the spacious Foyer stage where you’ll find some of the most energetic bands of the lineup. But, if you’re in the know and got there early enough, you know you cannot miss Caroline Spence (Binnenzaal, 16:00). Located to your left as soon as you get inside the building, Binnenzaal is not the biggest room in the venue, and it might get crowded as soon as the artist takes the stage, so be quick if you want to see her. But if you do, you’ll be rewarded with some of the catchiest tunes of 2019 (“Who’s Gonna Make My Mistakes” and “Long Haul” were featured in our playlist earlier this year). Spence’s second LP Mint Condition earned her comparisons to the likes of Emmylou Harris, who features in the chorus of the album’s title track.

17:00. You’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to decide where to go next, and so did I. To my amazement, I just realized I’ve never seen Josh Ritter (Grote Zaal, 17:00) live, so this ends up being an easier choice than I was expecting. The singer-songwriter has been around for a while, releasing stellar albums since 1999, and is still getting it right in 2019. The recent triad Sermon on the Rocks/Gathering/Fever Breaks is too good for me to skip him (there are more tracks on our playlists than I expected), but if he’s not your thing, you’re lucky because it’s one of the most packed hours of the fest. If you liked Caroline Spence, Molly Tuttle (Attic, 17:00) is the most logic sequence. Her latest album When You’re Ready, released last spring, is almost as catchy as Spence’s; if you’re looking for something else, Tyler Ramsey (Basement, 17:00) is your man. The former Band of Horses lead guitar player brings not one, but two new records with him (including the soundtrack for the Italian film L’ospite), the first since 2011′s The Valley Wind. Or, you know, you can try to watch a bit of each of the three shows. But beware: the Attic and the Basement stages are the smallest in the building.

18:00. Did Josh Ritter let you down, or did any of the other two shows end already? My favorite room in the Oosterpoort is hosting the magnificent The Delines (Kleine Zaal, 17:45). With their latest album The Imperial still somewhat fresh, and with a new single that was featured in last week’s playlist, the self-described retro country band fronted by Amy Boone has the songwriter and novelist Willy Vlautin in its ranks. And you don’t want to miss a chance to see Vlautin, especially now that he has put the beloved Richmond Fontaine to sleep. If they’re not your thing, and you’re looking for something more energetic, you’ll always have Lilly Hiatt (Foyer, 18:00). 2017′s Trinity Lane still spins at least once every couple of months, and we haven’t seen her live yet, so this might be it.

Another tough choice as 19:00 approaches. Orville Peck’s (Basement, 18:45) debut album ended up not being the magnificent work of art we wanted it to be from the first couple of singles, but we’re still curious to see him after the raving reviews his live show got at last week’s London Calling festival in Amsterdam. At the big room, Jay Farrar’s Son Volt (Grote Zaal, 19:00) are headlining. Regarded in the beginning as the true heirs of Uncle Tupelo following their demise in the early 90s, they failed to crossover to the “indie” world as their counterparts Wilco did, but they’re still a solid reference in the American roots world.

20:00. Hopefully, you found a bit of space in this schedule for a bite, because it ain’t over yet. Erin Rae (Binnenzaal, 20:15) was one of our highlights at last year’s Once in a Blue Moon festival despite the very early stage time on a rainy day; we can’t wait to see her in a seated venue with one more year of road experience. 

21:00. In that same festival we also saw this year’s TakeRoot headliners, Drive-By Truckers (Grote Zaal, 21:15), so we’re going to skip them in favor of one of our favorite American songwriters of the decade. Three years after we had an epiphany while seeing him in the same exact room, at roughly the same time, Robert Ellis (Kleine Zaal, 21:15) brings his latest album Texas Piano Man to an audience that knows him too well not to go see him again. He’s been extensively covered in our website, and his latest two albums were our album of the week in two different occasions. If you follow us, you don’t need us to tell you his live show is unmissable; if you don’t, well, now you know.

22:00. An hour went by and you’re still in wonder. Will you check out DBT? Will you go recharge with some well deserved beverage (my choice three years ago was an excellent single malt in a small specialty bar that I hope is back this year) or will you follow me into the basement for A.A. Bondy (Basement, 22:15)? The synth-heavy and strangely addictive Enderness, his first album in eight years, might seem a bit removed from the rest of a guitar-heavy lineup, but excellent songwriting is excellent songwriting, and Bondy makes total sense here.

23:00. It’s almost over, and we refuse to help you on this one, because we have no clue. But there’s something for every mood: folk singer Willie Watson (Binnenzaal, 22:45) is there for the contemplative, tea drinking crowd; if you want to put your dancing boots on, follow Quaker City Night Hawks (Foyer, 22:45); if you're into what I can only describe as “krautcountry” and want to see a modular synth and a pedal steel in the same stage, Garrett T. Capps (Kleine Zaal, 23:00) comes from San Antone to be your man. 

Don’t forget your coat - it’s cold outside and it’s still a bit of a walk to your nightcap whiskey at De Toeter and your kapsalon at Şafak, before you lose all hope of getting into Vera and go back into your hotel room, half drunk and very, very happy. Trust us, we’ve all been there before. And we intend on doing so as long as we can.