#begging burros

[rabbitcruiser]

World Donkey Day 

Visit a petting zoo, or simply do some research into the underappreciated, stalwart, useful and intelligent beasts of burden known as donkeys.

World Donkey Day is a show of respect for one of the most enduring and respectable animals in the Equidae family. Throughout history, it has served throughout the world as both a mount and a beast of burden in some of the most challenging terrains and forbidding climates, and has done so with pride and endurance. It’s unsurprising that these beasts’ success is due in part to their stubborn nature, and World Donkey Day honors them for this along with their other, perhaps more laudable, traits.

History of World Donkey Day

Two subspecies of the donkey, the Somalian and the Nubian, were bred together to produce what we think of as the modern Donkey. Available evidence points to the Donkey having been working alongside humanity since 4000 BCE, most likely in Nubia, as a more versatile and resilient pack animal than the ox they were presently using. Since then they have been bred and transplanted all over the world as cultures moved, and the world expanded, and can now be found just about everywhere.

They’re also the progenitors of the sterile mule, a cross-breeding of horse and donkey that results in a breed with the strengths of both. Sadly mules are almost entirely sterile, and the exceptions so rare that no breeding stock of pure mules has ever been able to be achieved, in part due to there having yet to be recorded a case of a breedable mule stallion. Strangely, there have been cases where female mules have birthed what are, for all appearances, pure horses when bred with a horse.

Without the help of donkeys, it is hard to imagine that the modern world could ever have come into existence. These hardy pack animals provided civilization with the motive energy needed to generate wealth, well before the advent of steam power or electricity. For that reason, many people consider donkeys just as fundamental to our society as writing, pottery, and metallurgy.

World Donkey Day is all about celebrating their stoic spirit and individual charm. These creatures aren’t afraid of a hard day’s work. In fact, they more or less invented the concept. Donkeys pull carts, operate mills, and carry cargo for miles and miles, well after other species would have given up. For that reason, they have a special place in our hearts. They’re willing to put in the effort (for no pay) all to serve us – their grateful human masters.

World Donkey Day is the brainchild of Raziq Ark, a scientist whose interests primarily concern desert animals. Around ten years ago, he noticed that nobody was celebrating the humble donkey for its efforts in helping people all over the world improve their quality of life. In recognition of all this hard work, he set up a Facebook group, chronicling the trials and tribulations of the species all over the world. Eventually, the idea to set up a World Donkey Day emerged in 2018, and we’ve been celebrating it ever since.

The concept drew widespread attention in the media. The Daily Express, for instance, ran an article covering ten facts that people don’t know about donkeys. Did you know that a female donkey is called a Jenny? Ark also has thousands of followers on his Facebook page, all showing their support for this amazing creature.

Donkeys have played an essential part in human history. Ark says that they are a “precious genetic resource and a great gift of nature.” You can’t get higher praise than that!

How to celebrate World Donkey Day

The best way to celebrate World Donkey Day, depending on where you are, is merely to research these incredible beasts and the role they had to play in the world. If you’re somewhere you can take a Donkey Ride tour like the Grand Canyon or tours of certain abandoned mines then that’s an even better way to become acquainted with these adorable long-eared equines. World Donkey Day reminds us that we owe a large part of our success on this planet to these fellow travelers on the starship Earth.

There are plenty of other ways that you can show your support to donkeys all over the world and improve their wellbeing. Many of them are in constant pain and need attention fast. Often their owners are too poor to pay for a veterinarian, so it falls to the rest of us to take up the slack. Donating to a donkey charity, therefore, is a great way to show your support for these fabulous creatures directly. Currently, there are a handful of nonprofits working hard all over the world to deliver medical attention to neglected and abused animals. These charities use donated money to provide much-needed treatment to donkeys in their hour of need.

Donkey abandonment is another major issue. Many owners will dump their donkeys at the side of the road if they can no longer afford to take care of them. The animal must then scavenge for food to survive. Giving to a donkey charity, therefore, can provide these victims with shelter where they can live in safety and peace.

Donkeys are beautiful, but neglected creatures. World Donkey Day is a chance for everyone who cares about these animals to highlight their plight and do something practical about it. Are you in?

Source

[kalscattergood]

If you ever find yourself in Custer, South Dakota, I encourage you to go to the Begging Burro and order the steak tacos from Fred Armisen-- I mean Manuel. Manuel was awesome and I promised him I'd come back during next year's Sturgis rally.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

No Rest for the Wicked | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: nightmares, angstangstangst, canon violence, canon gore, SMUT (MDNI 18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6038

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Dean shot up in bed beside you, startling you awake as well. His breathing was shallow and quick, and you sat up to comfort him. 

“Babe, what happened?” you asked, putting your hand on his back. 

He shook his head, still breathing with difficulty. “Uh, nothing,” Dean replied. “Go back to sleep.”

You rested your head against his bare shoulder and kissed it. “Hellhounds again?” you asked quietly. 

Dean’s lack of response let you know you were right. 

You sighed. “Do you wanna go back to sleep?”

He shook his head. 

“I’ll stay up with you,” you told him. 

“(Y/N)—”

“This isn’t up for debate,” you cut him off. You leaned back on the bed and opened your arms to him. Dean hesitated at first, but he eventually relaxed into you. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed the top of his head. Dean wrapped his arms around your stomach and laid his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. 

“Hey, (Y/N)?” you asked. 

“Hm,” you hummed. 

Dean looked up at you with a small smirk pulling at his lips. He leaned up over you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. 

You rolled over on top of him, and he happily allowed you to grind over the top of him while you kissed down his neck. You ran your nails over his abs and up over his chest as he kneaded your ass in his large hands. He made quick work of pushing your underwear aside to be able to slide himself into you. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked. 

You nodded, kissing him fiercely. 

“Sweetheart—” he growled between kisses, “words—” “Yes, please,” you begged. 

Making sure you were ready by running his fingers over your folds, Dean slipped his impressive length into you in one quick push. You rolled your hips over his, and he swallowed your moans with his kiss while kneading your breasts and tweaking your nipples. Soon enough, the two of you reached your highs, and he stayed comfortably seated inside you. Dean pulled you down to lay on his chest, and you sighed in content as he wrapped his arms around you. 

These nightmares had been growing more persistent as Dean’s death date got closer. He had yet another one while you were in the midst of researching, and he’d fallen asleep on his book. 

You looked at him sadly, and Sam walked into the motel room. Dean shot up and pretended he hadn’t just woken up from a nightmare.

“Dig up anything good?” Sam asked the two of you.

You took the opportunity to cover for Dean. “Nah, nothing good.”

“Well, Bobby has,” Sam replied. “Finally.”

Dean looked up. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” Sam nodded, “a way to find Lilith.”

“Oh. With just uh—” Dean looked down at his watch, “thirty hours to go.” Dean smiled halfheartedly. “Hey, why don't we just make a TJ-run, yeah? Y’know, some senoritas, cervezas, uh, we could... What's Spanish for "donkey show"?”

“Espectáculo de burro,” you replied quietly. 

Sam snickered. “So, if we do save you, let’s never do that.”

“Acordada,” you said. 

“Gesundheit,” Dean snarked. 

You gave a short laugh and looked back down at the book on Hellhounds in front of you. 

“Hey, Dean,” Sam sighed. “Look, we're cutting it close, I know, but we're gonna get this done. I don't care what it takes, Dean. You're not gonna go to hell. I'm not gonna let you.”

Dean looked up.

“I swear. Everything's gonna be okay,” Sam promised. 

Dean looked slightly sad before looking completely panicked. You recalled that just hours before the person is dragged away by the Hellhounds, they begin to hallucinate. It broke your heart to know that was what Dean was going through. 

***

The next day, you, Dean, Sam, and Bobby were setting up a ritual to find where Lilith was hiding. You couldn’t even make out what the scene before you was, but you simply did as Bobby told you to do. 

“So you need a name, that's the whole kit and caboodle,” Bobby said, referring to the mess of pendulums and maps in front of him. “With the right name, right ritual, ain't nothing you can't suss out.”

“Like the town Lilith's in?” Sam asked. 

“Kid, when I get done, we'll know the street.” You smiled briefly and shot a look to Dean. 

With some chanting in Latin, the pendulum stopped over the top of New Harmony, Indiana, which Bobby announced to the room. 

“And we have a winner,” Bobby continued. 

“Alright, let’s go,” Sam asserted, starting for the door. 

Dean stopped his brother. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. Let's all shut up there, Tex.”

“What?” you asked. “What’s the deal?”

“Whaddaya mean, ‘what’?” he replied. “Come on, where do I begin? I mean, first of all, we don't even know if Lilith holds my deal. We're going off of Bela's intel? Now, when that bitch breathes, the air comes out crooked, okay. Second, even if we could get to Lilith, we have no way to gank her. And third, isn't this the same Lilith that wants your giant head on a pike?” He gestured to Sam. “Should I continue?”

“Listen, Dee, it’s worth a shot,” you returned. “What else are we supposed to do?”

“Just 'cause I gotta die doesn't mean you guys have to, okay? Either we go in smart, or we don't go in at all,” he said firmly. 

“Okay, fine. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I have a suggestion,” you said.

“Where are you going with this,” Dean warned, his tone letting you know he knew where this conversation was leading. 

“We’re so past arguing. We gotta summon Ruby,” you stated. 

Dean’s shoulders tensed. “The hell we are! We have enough problems as it is.”

“Listen! I trust the bitch about as far as I can throw her. But right now, she’s all we got,” you argued.

Dean sighed. “C’mon, sweetheart, she is the Miss Universe of lying skanks, okay. She told you that she could save me—” he gestured to his brother, “lie. She seems to know everything about Lilith but forgot to mention— oh, right! Lilith owns my soul!”

“Dean—” Bobby groaned. 

“For all we know, she works for Lilith!” the older brother finished. 

“Look, I agree with you!” you told him. “So give me another option.”

“Dean, (Y/N)’s right—”

Dean cut Sam off with a growled shout. “No! Dammit!”

You had never been scared of Dean before, but his exclamation genuinely startled you. When he realized what he’d done, he immediately softened. “Just… no. We are not gonna make the same mistakes all over again. You guys wanna save me, find something else.”

Bobby sighed and grabbed his jacket to head to the door. 

“Where are you going, Bobby?” Sam asked quietly. 

“I guess to…” he trailed off and threw out his arms, “find something else.”

You shared a long look with Sam that told you you would be defying Dean. 

***

“Y’know, phones work too,” Ruby smirked, leaning against the doorway after you and Sam summoned her in the basement of the cabin you were squatting in. “Hey, Sam. How’s tricks?” she asked, arms folded. Then, she seemed to notice you were in the room as well. “(Y/N)! What a surprise—”

“How do you get around so fast?” Sam cut her off.

“I got the Super Bowl jetpack,” she shrugged. “So, you called?” The demon began to stalk toward you. 

“Did you know?” you demanded. 

“Um, gonna need a tiny bit more.”

“About Dean’s deal. That Lilith holds the contract,” Sam clarified.

She sighed. “Yes, I did.”

“Don’t you think you should’ve mentioned that to us?!” you snapped. 

“Temper, temper,” Ruby taunted. “You weren’t ready.”

Sam scoffed. “For what?”

“If I told you, you three yahoos would have just charged after her half-cocked, and Lilith would have peeled the meat from your pretty, pretty faces,” she explained dryly. 

“Well, we’re ready now,” Sam stated. “I want your knife.” Ruby began to circle you, her expression completely flat and still somehow mischievous. “You're right about one thing. You are ready. And now's the time, too. Lilith's guard's down.”

“How’s that?” you questioned.

Ruby explained, “She's on shore-leave. A little R&R.”

“The hell’s that mean?” Sam questioned.

“Trust me, you don't wanna know. You didn't lose those hex bags I gave you?”

“We’ve got ‘em.”

“Good. Then she won't sense that you're coming.”

Ruby was directly in front of you now. “Give us the knife.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking,” you asserted.

“You wanna charge in with one little pigsticker?” she snickered mockingly. “It's a waste of a true-blue window. Like getting Hitler with that exploding briefcase. Forget it.”

“Okay, then how?” Sam asked, getting very angry.

“I know how to save your brother, Sam,” Ruby cooed. 

“No, you don’t! You told us you couldn’t! Give us the fucking knife, alright!” you shouted, getting in her face. 

“Did you ever consider that I lied, babe?” she snarked. 

“Oh, so you can save him?” Sam scoffed dryly. 

“No, but you can.”

“What?” you and Sam exclaimed simultaneously.

“Sam, you've got some god-given talent. Well, not ‘god’-given, but you get the gist,” she explained.

“All that psychic crap? That's gone ever since Yellow-Eyes died,” Sam responded. 

“Not gone; dormant,” Ruby said. “And not just visions either. Why do you think Lilith is so scared of you?”

“Why the fuck would she be scared of Sam?” you asked. 

“If you wanted, you could wipe her off the map without moving a muscle,” Ruby responded. 

“I don’t believe you,” Sam stated. 

“It’s the truth.”

“And you decided to tell me this just now?”

“Um... demon. Manipulative's kinda in the job description,” she sing-songed. “Fact is— is that you would have never considered it. Not until you were –”

“Desperate enough?” Sam cut her off.

Ruby shrugged. “You don't like being different. You hate the way Dean looks at you sometimes. Like you're some kind of sideshow freak. But suck it up because we've got a lot of ground to cover, and we've gotta do it fast. But we can do it.”

Sam clenched his jaw and glanced down at the floor. 

“Look. Call me a bitch, hate me all you want, but I have never lied to you, Sam. Not ever. And I'm telling you. You can save your brother, and I can show you how,” she urged. 

“So that’s you, huh?” an all too familiar voice growled from behind you. 

‘Uh-oh,’ you thought, stomach dropping and eyes widening. 

“Our slutty little Yoda,” Dean finished his insult, walking into the room. 

“Dean.” She turned to him, all the softness she’d been using with Sam gone. “Charming as ever.”

Dean stalked toward the three of you. “Aw, I knew you’d show up. ‘Cause I knew Sammy here and my girlfriend wouldn’t listen.” He cut his eyes at you, and you looked at the floor in shame. 

“But you're not gonna teach him anything, you understand me? Over my dead body,” Dean grunted. 

“Oh, well, you’re right about that,” Ruby snickered. 

“What you are gonna do is give me that knife. And then you can just go crawl back into whatever slop you came from and never bother me or my brother or my girl again. Are we clear?” he stated fiercely. 

“Your brother is carrying a bomb inside of him, and we'd be stupid not to use it,” Ruby shot back. 

You sighed, knowing you were in deep shit. “Dean, just hold on, okay—”

“(Y/N)!” Dean snapped. “Don’t.” He addressed Sam next. “C’mon man, what, are you blind? Can't you see that this is a trick?”

“That’s not true,” Ruby protested. 

“She wants you to give into this whole demonic psychic whatever, okay. I mean hell, she probably wants you to become her little Anti-Christ SuperStar.”

“I want Lilith dead. That’s all,” Ruby snarled. 

“Why?”

“I’ve told you why!”

Dean laughed mockingly. “Oh, right, yeah. Because you were human once and you liked kittens and long walks on the beach.”

Ruby shook her head. “Y’know, I am so sick of proving myself to you. You wanna save yourself, this is how, you dumb, spineless dick.” Dean looked at her, then turned around as if he was going to leave. Suddenly, he spun back and nailed her with a mean right hook. 

“Dean!” you shouted, knowing he was in a world of trouble. 

Ruby recovered quickly and delivered blow after blow; a knee to the face, then a hit to the back, then to his stomach. 

You rushed her, shoving her to the floor. Ruby dragged you down with her and rolled on top of you to hit you across the right side of your jaw, then your left, then your right again. 

Ruby, hey!” Sam shouted, but you could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. 

Suddenly, the repetitive hits were gone. Dean was back to hitting her, or, rather, getting one hit in before being sent to the ground by Ruby. 

The fight progressed into the other room, and Dean stumbled back into the room moments later because of a hit delivered by Ruby. 

“The hell are you grinning at?” 

Apparently, Dean was wearing one of his shit-eating grins. “Missing something?” he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his voice from your position on the ground. 

Sam came over to check on you, and you could see Dean holding Ruby’s knife proudly. 

“I'll kill you, you son of a bitch.”

Your eyes widened as Ruby tried to rush him, but she was stopped by an invisible force. You breathed out in relief knowing Dean had set up a Devil’s trap. “Like I said, I knew you'd come.”

He walked away from her toward the staircase back up to the cabin. 

“Wait! You're just gonna leave me here?”

Dean ignored the demon. “Let’s go,” he ordered you and Sam. 

Sam helped you up from the floor and adjusted his jaw painfully. 

“Oh, oh, you— so you're just too stupid to live, is that it?” Ruby laughed in a panic. “Then, fine! You deserve hell! I wish I could be there, Dean. I wish I could smell the flesh sizzle off your bones! I wish I could be there to hear you scream!” Her voice followed you up the stairs into the living room of the cabin.

“And I wish you'd shut your pie hole, but we don't always get what we want,” Dean called back.

Your heart was in your throat as you followed Dean up the stairs. He was undoubtedly going to chew both you and Sam out for what you’d done. 

In silence, you began to load your weapons. You briefly smiled fondly at Dean’s Taurus as he cleaned it. Dean apparently caught you looking at him, his face set in hard lines. You could practically feel the blood flush from your face. 

“I figured Sam would do it, but you?” he asked evenly, tone on-guard. 

“Dean—”

“No, (Y/N). I told you I didn’t want you to do that,” Dean replied. 

You slammed your gun down on the table. “And what about what I want? I have less than twenty-four hours with you, and I’m trying to change that. Do you not want that? Do you want to go to Hell?!”

He sighed, and you noticed Sam had taken a step back from the weapons table to let you and Dean fight it out. 

“No, but dammit, I’m not letting you make the same mistake I did!” he shouted.

“You keep saying that, but what do you mean?!”

“First my dad, then me, and what? Now you? Now Sam? Every time someone’s ass is on the line, one of us just gives it up instead. This has to stop,” Dean explained. 

“So, what? We’re just gonna let Ruby rot down there, and you’re just gonna wait ass up for Lilith to come collect your soul?” you argued.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam began softly, “what if Ruby’s right? What if I can take out Lilith?”

Dean slammed his hands on the table and gave his brother an angry, hard glare. 

“Quit looking at me like that,” Sam stated. 

Dean scoffed. “What, are you gonna give her the Carrie-stare and Lilith goes ‘poof’?”

“I don't know what Ruby meant,” Sam replied, throwing his hands up and shaking his head. “Y’know, maybe we should just go ask her.”

“Guys, you wanted the knife. I got you the knife.” Dean walked over to another table with knives splayed across it. 

“Dean, just listen to me for a second. Last time Lilith snapped her fingers and put thirty demons on our ass, and all we got's one little knife?” Sam challenged. “I mean, like you said, we go in smart, or we don't go in at all.”

“Well, this ain't smart.”

“We got one shot at this, Dean. Just one. So if there's a sure-fire way then maybe we should just talk about it.”

Dean approached Sam and got in his face a bit. “Ruby's just jerking your chain down the road. You know what it's paved with and you know where it's going.” He then turned around, sat back down at the table, and picked up a knife. 

Sam apparently wasn’t done. “Dean.” He sat down next to his brother as Dean continued to sharpen his knife. “What do you think is gonna happen? This is me, I can handle it. And if it'll save you—”

Dean cut off his brother. “Why even risk it?”

“Because you're my brother. Because you did the same thing for me,” Sam replied simply. 

The older brother scoffed. “I know. And look how that turned out.” He sighed and got a little choked up. “Guys, all I’m sayin’ is… sweetheart, you’re my weak spot.”

You looked up at Dean, and he was staring at you with tears swimming in his eyes. 

He smiled quickly. “You are. And I’m yours.” Dean looked over to his brother while you bit your lip and closed your eyes to try and keep from crying. 

“And Sam, we— we’re family,” Dean chuckled through his tears, “I mean, what we'll do for each other, y’know, how far we'll go? Those evil sons of bitches know it. They're using it against us.”

“So what? We just stop looking out for each other?” Sam argued through his own tears.

“No, we stop being martyrs, man. We… We stop spreading it for these demons,” he joked. Dean picked up Ruby's knife. “We take this knife, and we go after Lilith our way. The way Dad taught us to. And if we go down, then, uh, then, we go down swinging.”

You wrapped your arm around yourself trying to self-soothe as you would have to do from here on out very soon. 

“Whaddya think?” Dean asked you and Sam.

A smirk grew across Sam’s face. “I think you totally should have been jamming ‘Eye of the Tiger’ right there.”

Dean stood and grumbled, “Oh, bite me. I totally rehearsed that speech, too.”

Sam smiled. “So, Indiana, huh?”

“Yeah, where Lilith's on shore-leave,” Dean recalled Ruby’s earlier words. “Tell me something. The hell's a demon do for fun?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Despite the lighthearted joking, your heart was breaking in two. No amount of loss you’d experienced before was quite as devastating as this was for you. 

As you made it into the bedroom you’d been sharing with Dean, you heard Dean’s heavy footsteps following you. 

“Sweetheart—”

You cut him off. “Don’t. Please.” 

Dean wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed the top of your head. You turned around to bury your face in his chest and inhale the leather jacket that smelled of his cologne and gunpowder. Oh, how you were going to miss that smell. 

***

You knew continuing to be sad wasn’t an option in this scenario. You had to pull it together for Dean’s sake, if not yours. Just as you were about to leave for Indiana well aware of the time constraint you were under, Bobby appeared at the door of the Impala.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bobby drawled. 

“We got the knife,” Dean replied through the window of the car. 

You got out to greet Bobby with a tight hug.

“And you intend to use it without me?” Bobby scoffed. “Do I look like a ditchable prom date to you?”

“No, Bobby, of course not,” Sam replied. 

“This is about me, (Y/N), and Sam, okay? This isn't your fight,” Dean said.

Those words made Bobby rightfully furious. “The hell it isn’t! Family don’t end with blood, boy. Besides, you need me.”

“Bobby—”

The older man cut Dean off. “You're playing wounded. Tell me, how many hallucinations have you had so far?” Sam seem surprised, but you looked at your feet sheepishly. 

“How’d you know?” Dean asked. 

“Because that's what happens when you've got hellhounds on your butt. And because (Y/N) called me,” Bobby replied. 

Dean looked at you with a mockingly sarcastic stare. You just shrugged. 

***

Bobby followed behind you in his car. Sam was going to let you sit in his usual spot, but you preferred to keep things as they were; for at least a semblance of normalcy. 

Sam broke the silence in the car. “Hey, Dean? You know if this doesn't uh... this doesn't go the way we want, I want you to know—” Dean cut him off. “No, no, no, no.”

“ ‘No’ what?” Sam asked. 

Dean shot a brief look over to Sam. “No, you're not gonna bust out the misty good-bye speech, okay? And if this is my last day on earth, I do not want it to be socially awkward.” Dean paused for a moment, a smirk growing across his face. “Y’know what I do want?” He fiddled with the radio for a minute, and Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive” began to play through the speakers. 

“Bon Jovi?” the brunet scoffed. 

Dean began to sing along with Bon Jovi. “And I walk these streets! A loaded six-string on my back / I play for keeps / ‘Cause I might not make it back.” He turned to his brother. “C’mon! I’ve been everywhere.”

“Oh, yeah!” you and Sam sang. 

“And I'm standing tall / I've seen a million faces ‘And I rocked 'em all.” Dean shot a wink at you in the rearview mirror on that line, and you squeezed his shoulder. Dean grabbed your hand with his opposite one and continued to steer with the other. He played with your fingers while his brother got more and more into singing. You and Dean, however, were beginning to realize how well the song fit your current situation. 

Dean’s smile that you’d fallen in love with was completely gone while Sam continued to sing. 

***

After getting pulled over because of the Impala’s busted taillight, Dean revealed to you he’d been able to tell the officer who’d stopped you was possessed. In fact, it was because he could see the ugly face of the creature beneath. 

You had driven the police car into the woods and covered it in branches to hide it along with the body.

“So, what, now you’re seeing demons?” Sam scoffed. 

“I've seen all kinds of things lately but... nothing like this,” Dean replied, looking startled. 

“Actually, it's not all that crazy,” Bobby jumped in. “You've got just over five hours to go. You're piercing the veil, Dean. You're glimpsing the B-side.”

“A little less new age-y, please,” Dean snarked. 

“You're almost Hell's bitch. So, you can see Hell's other bitches,” Bobby put it plainly. 

Dean seemed taken aback, but then, turned his charm back on. “Thank you.”

“Well, it actually could come in pretty handy,” Sam suggested. 

“Oh, well, I'm glad my doomed soul is good for something,” Dean scoffed. 

Bobby nodded. “Damn right it is. Lilith's probably got demons stashed all over town. We can't let them sound the alarm. She knows we're here, we're dead before we're started.”

Dean chuckled mockingly. “Well, this is a terrific plan. I'm excited to be a part of it. Can we go, please?”

***

Somehow, you’d managed to sneak into the house for sale across the street from the house Lilith was “vacationing” in. Dean looked through the closed blinds with binoculars to search for the demon. “It's the little girl. Her face is awful,” Dean grimaced. 

After much bickering over which method was best to break into the house, you waited for Dean to run behind the house with the demon hot on his heels. When it happened, you plunged the knife into the possessed mailman’s stomach. Sam came up behind him to clasp a hand over his mouth to ensure he couldn’t alert any other demons. You passed the knife off to him with an encouraging nod to send him on his way to kill the neighbor. You dragged the mailman’s body behind a bush. 

Suddenly, you were shoved into a bush. “I'd like my knife back, please. Or your neck snaps like a chicken bone.”

Sam came up behind her and held it to her throat. “She doesn’t have it. Take it easy.”

Ruby let you go, and you scrambled to your feet. 

“How the hell did you get out?” Dean asked, standing beside you. 

“What you don't know about me could fill a book,” she scoffed. 

Dean stumbled backward suddenly. “Whoa,” he breathed out. 

“What?” she asked angrily. 

Dean turned his head away not wanting to look at her anymore. “Nothing. I just— I couldn't see you before, but you're one ugly broad.”

“Sam, give me the knife before you hurt yourself,” Ruby demanded. 

“You’ll get it when this is over,” you replied. 

“It's already over. I gave you a way to save Dean, you shot me down. Now, it's too late. He's dead. And I'm not gonna let you die, too,” Ruby told Sam. 

“Try and stop me, and I'll kill you, bitch,” Sam snarled. 

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Hit me with your best shot, baby.”

Dean turned back to you. “Guys,” he whispered. “Hey. Have your little catfight later.”

You could see other black-eyed demons stalking toward you. “So much for the element of surprise.” 

“Run, run!” you whispered harshly. You broke off and headed straight to the house Lilith was in, and you could hear dozens of demons following you. 

You slid across the porch on your knees to pick the lock on the door. 

“What the hell is taking Bobby?” Dean shouted. 

Suddenly, the sprinklers turned on to shoot holy water at the demons, which had been Bobby’s task. 

Just as you finished picking the lock, you turned to see Dean smirking and laughing at the demons who’d been kept away from the house by the sprinklers. 

You closed the door behind Ruby and turned around to see an older gentleman dead on the kitchen table. “Holy shit,” you whispered. His head had been turned around completely.

Dean turned to see what you were looking at, and his face hardened. “You think Lilith knows we're here?” he asked quietly. 

“Probably,” Ruby answered. 

Sam walked into the surrounding rooms first, holding his knife out. Suddenly, Dean’s head whipped to a closed cabinet behind you where he discovered a man hiding. He put his hand over the man’s mouth to keep him from making any noise while you shushed him. 

“We're here to help, okay?” Dean whispered. “I'm gonna move my hand, and we're gonna talk nice and quiet, okay?”

The man nodded his head “yes,” and Dean slowly removed his hand. 

“Where’s your kid?” you asked. 

“It’s not—” he swallowed harshly, “It’s not her anymore.”

“Where is she?” Sam urged. 

“Upstairs. In her bedroom,” the man answered. 

“Okay, okay, okay. Listen to me. I want you to go downstairs to the basement. Put a line of salt at the door behind you. Do you understand me?” Dean stated. 

“Not without my wife,” the man responded. 

“Yes, without your wife.”

“No.”

Dean knew you had no time for this and knocked him out. He shot you a look, you smiled, and Dean hauled the man up over his shoulders in a fireman’s hold. 

You followed Dean down to the basement and quietly shut the door behind him while Ruby and Sam went up to the girl’s bedroom. 

Dean unceremoniously dropped the man to the floor while you surrounded the door with salt. Just as you were turning to leave, Dean grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, kissing you with a passion you’d never felt from him before. He desperately pulled at you trying to get you as close as possible, and you pulled on his hair like you knew he loved. When you pulled away, you were seeing stars. “What was that for?” you asked quietly. 

“Just ‘cause,” he told you. “I love you.”

Your eyes pooled with tears, but you managed to keep them at bay. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know.”

Dean’s eyes searched your face with one of those heavily emotional and yet unreadable expressions you’d become accustomed to. “Let’s go,” he told you, grabbing your hand and carefully stepping over the salt to get out of the basement. 

He pulled you upstairs into the little girl’s room but suddenly panicked when he saw Sam about to stab the child. Dean grabbed his brother’s arm, saying, “It's not her!”

The little girl was breathing heavily from the realization of what was about to happen to her.

“It's not in the girl anymore,” Dean continued.

The child collapsed into her mother’s chest, crying, “Mommy!”

The mother shushed her child and held her tightly, clearly relieved her daughter was okay.

***

When you’d gotten the two remaining family members into the basement, Ruby spoke up. “Well, I hate to be a ‘told you so’.”

“Okay, then, where is she?” you asked. 

“I don't know,” she replied. 

“Could she get past the sprinklers?” Sam questioned, looking out of the window at the demons still trapped on the lawn. 

“Her pay grade, she ain't sweating the holy water,” Ruby replied. 

Sam huffed. “Okay, you win. What do I have to do?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, giving him a questioning look. 

“To save Dean,” Sam replied. “What do you need me to do?”

Dean tried to turn him around. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Sam shrugged him off. “Just shut up for a second. Ruby!”

“You had your chance,” she replied. “You can’t just flip a switch. We needed time.”

“And the twelve hours warning you gave us would’ve been enough?’ you scoffed. “C’mon, lady, give us something. Anything!”

Dean grabbed Sam again. 

“Don’t, Dean! I’m not gonna let you go to Hell!” Sam told his brother. 

“Yes, you are!” Dean roared. He looked to you for a moment before looking down at the floor, seeming unable to hold your gaze. “You both are.” He took a deep breath and looked up at his little brother. “I'm sorry. I mean, this is all my fault, I know that. But what you're doing; it's not gonna save me. It's only gonna kill you.”

“Then, what am I supposed to do?” Sam asked quietly, tears slipping down his cheeks. 

Your eyes began to well, too. 

“Keep fighting. Take care of my wheels. Don’t let (Y/N) drive,” Dean smirked at you. “Sam, remember what Dad taught you, okay? And remember what I taught you.”

Dean looked over to you. “And take care of my brother. Take care of you.” He tilted his head back, seeming unsure of what his next words would be. “God, I just… there’s too many things I could say to you, sweetheart. But I just need you to know that I’ve always got your six. Even when I’m gone.” Dean stepped closer to you, and you could barely stand to look at him as tears poured down your face. 

Just then, the clock struck midnight. Dean looked over to it, then looked back at you, and he tried to offer a sad smile when he did. 

“I'm sorry, Dean. I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy,” Ruby said through the deafening silence.

Suddenly, Dean’s face fell. “Hellhound.”

“Where?” you and Sam asked in unison. 

Dean nodded to a corner of the room. “There.”

You looked in the direction Dean nodded to, but obviously, you saw nothing. Dean grabbed your hand and brought you into another room, you and the Winchesters slamming the doors behind yourselves.

You took out a bag of goofer dust and quickly shook it out in a line in front of the doors to keep the Hellhounds at bay. 

“Give me the knife,” you heard Ruby tell Sam, “maybe I can fight it off.”

You turned around to see Sam’s confused expression. “What?”

Dean suddenly called out, “Wait!”

Ruby scoffed. “You wanna die?”

“Sam, that’s not Ruby,” Dean realized. “It’s not Ruby!”

Suddenly, you were thrown back against the wall next to Sam, and Dean was thrown on top of a table, pinning him. 

“How long you been in her?” Dean asked, grunting uncomfortably.

“Not long,” Lilith cooed. “But I like it. It's all grown up and pretty.” 

“And where's Ruby?” Sam asked. 

Lilith’s head snapped toward the two of you. “She was a very bad girl, so I sent her far, far away.” Her neck crunched with each tilting motion of her head. 

“Y’know, I should have seen it before, but you all look alike to me,” Dean remarked. 

Your heart pounded as Lilith walked toward Sam. “Hello, Sam. I've wanted to meet you for a very long time.” She grabbed hold of his chin, forcing him to kiss her, and you turned your head away uncomfortably. “Your lips are soft.”

“Right, so you have me. Let my brother go,” Sam tried. 

Lilith smirked. “Silly goose. You wanna bargain, you have to have something that I want. You don't.” Her voice was sugary sweet.

“So, is this your big plan, huh? Drag me to hell. Kill Sam. And then what? Become queen bitch?” Dean growled. 

“I don’t have to answer to puppy chow,” Lilith smiled. 

Dean was clearly in pain trying to hold himself up on the table, and you wanted nothing more than to run to him. 

Lilith grabbed ahold of the door handle, smiling sickly at Dean. “Sic ‘em, boy.”

Your eyes widened, heart dropping as Dean was thrown off the table and to the ground by the invisible Hellhound. 

“No!” you screamed. “Stop it, you fucking bitch!”

“Dean!” Sam shouted, tears choking his screams. 

Dean struggled on the floor as his chest was tattered by the vicious creature’s claws. 

“Stop it, please! Dean!” you cried, struggling as hard as you could against Lilith’s power nailing you to the wall. 

Next, the hound got your partner’s back and shoulder, and Dean writhed around on the floor in pain, screaming. Blood gushed from his chest, and your heart broke to pieces. 

“Dean!” Your scream was blood curdling as Sam cried beside you. 

The hound stopped attacking, and you could see Dean was taking his shallow, final breaths. His screaming had stopped, but blood still poured from every deep gash. 

Lilith held her hand out toward you and Sam, and a bright, white light erupted from it. Sam turned over into you, shielding you with his body. You closed your eyes, curling into a ball on the floor beneath him. 

When you felt the light was gone, Sam got up and turned to Lilith, who looked genuinely afraid of him. 

“Back,” she begged, breathing shallowly. “I said, back!”

Sam picked up Ruby’s knife. “I don’t think so.” He moved to stab her, but Lilith decided to pour out of Ruby’s body in a cloud of smoke through an air vent. 

As soon as Lilith was gone, you rushed to Dean’s side. You pulled his head into your lap as you’d done many times before and stroked his hair with your hand. “Dee— oh, my god,” you cried. 

Sam bent down next to you, tears pouring down his cheeks. 

You sobbed and held Dean’s head against yours, murmuring, “Come back to me,” over and over again. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[jokingmisfit]

A Donatello Who... (NSFW)

A Donatello who fucks you reverse cowgirl style while he works.

Who loves having you warm his cock while he works.

A Donatello who says nothing but hisses and growls.

Who burros his face into your chest when he starts getting overwhelmed with emotion during sex.

A Donatello who has such good self control he can fuck you over and over without cumming.

Who brags about how good he makes you feel.

A Donatello who will hold a conversation through the door on the phone while he fucks you.

Who when it's safe will push papers away and fuck you on his desk.

A Donatello who uses his inventions to fuck you on the side while he works/watches.

Who loves having our bury your head in his neck and feel you cry and pant on his skin.

A Donatello who sometimes is so overwhelmed after that he has to leave you alone in his bed to decompress.

Who other times can't let you go and gets aggressive when someone tries to take you away because they don't need you like he does right now.

A Donnie who fucks you in several positions in front of a camera so he can record your reactions.

Who "researches" your body and takes notes on your reactions.

A Donnie who has to touch you all over.

Whose hands move all over you, but loves to squeeze your chest and ass.

A Donnie who leaves so many marks on your body from his rough grabbing.

Who leaves hickeys on every inch of you and gets upset if you cover them.

A Donnie who can't hold any of his moans back as he fucks you.

Who sometimes holds a camera to your face or hole to "research" later.

Who barely closes his eyes so he can see everything.

A Donnie who has to make you cum again because he "missed" it the first time.

Who cums as much as you do but loves the over stimulation.

A Donnie who just has to hold you afterwards because he is so overwhelmed with love for you.

Who gives you snacks and cleans you with a warm washcloth.

A Donatello who fucks you with his tongue more than his cock.

Who holds you so flush against your face you fear he'll suffocate.

A Donatello who will only fuck you with his dick if you beg him repeatedly.

Who grabs at any belly or hair you have. (If you have them).

A Donnie whose fucking is so contrast from his personality you sometimes get whiplash from the attitude change,

Who sometimes lists scientific facts on why you react to certain stimuli.

A Donnie will fuck you with other objects including his bo-staff.

Who will blindfold you with his own mask.

A Donnie who can and will fuck you anywhere.

Who will laugh at how cute the faces you make are.

A Donnie that will bathe you after so you're not too sore.

Who will stay and read to you or work on a small machine.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Deep diving into Alejandro's ethnicity and family because the show is vague with how both are portrayed, and I'm pedantic:

Off the bat, we know that he was born in 🇪🇸 Spain. Or at least, that's what his wiki page says, so I'm sure it's mentioned in some kind of canon content (the show, the character interviews, the creators' stating it, ect). He often times speaks en español, either by replacing words and phrases in otherwise English sentences or cussing out his team in an entirely spanish confession. His name is also rooted in Spanish origin; 'Alejandro' is the Spanish equivalent of Alexander, and his surname 'Burromuerto' literally translates to "Dead Donkey", likely a combination of the idioms "beating a dead horse" and "no ver tres en un burro", translation: can't see three on a donkey; akin to 'blind as a bat'.

I could go on about the symbolism of his name(s) and how it relates to his performance on Total Drama, but that's not essential to the topic at hand so I'll go over it later.*

With this in mind, the show really wants us to believe that he's Spanish, or at the very least Hispanic.

In Chinese Fake-Out, we learn that he won a gold medal at the South American Skate Olympics, so he presumably lived somewhere in South America in his childhood. On the wiki, it claims that he moved to Latin America soon after he was born. His comment in the same episode about eating barbequed guinea pigs where he grew up had a lot of people deducing that he lived in 🇵🇪 Peru since guinea pig is famously a delicacy there. The question begs, why would Alejandro and the rest of the Burromuertos move to Peru from Spain?

We know that Alejandro's father is a diplomat, so uprooting the family to a new country could be related to his work, but I doubt a diplomat would settle down and start a family just to go through the hassle of moving them halfway across the world to a random country, regardless of his salary.

What other reason would anyone have for dragging their brood across the sea? To see their extended family.

Family is a big character motivation for Alejandro: he has a lot of pride in being a Burromuerto and often times complains about disappointing his family or being susceptible to José's teasing when his plans don't work out. Pride is a staple of the Burromuertos; they even have a family code they abide by. That kind of mindset is usually generational, implying that his parents place the same emphasis on the presentation and opinions of their family.

The most glaring example of this mindset is the hate fuelled rivalry between Alejandro and José, which was sparked by their desperate need to be the "better son". The main goal of the Burromuerto brothers is familial recognition. Understandable, when your parents are too successful to raise you themselves, any kid would be desperate for their attention. Since their competition was allowed to escalate to the point of mutual loathing, their parents probably encouraged their behaviour; when you value familial reputation over everything of course you want your children to continuously prove themselves. (Poor Al is just full of complex familial trauma, from his parents' neglect to his brothers' bullying to the incredible pressure he's put under to succeed. No wonder he's like that.)

After seeing how the brothers are willing to go to extremes for the sake of family, it's reasonable that parents sharing that mindset would move across an ocean just to see their relatives (and likely compete with them, after all even a younger Alejandro was showing up everyone in South America's skateboarding scene).

Suggesting that either one or both of his parents, or grandparents, are Latin American. For simplicities sake, we'll say that Alejandro's dad is Spanish (as he carries the surname), and his mother is Peruvian (since Peru is the assumed country they moved to).

That means that the brothers qualify as both Hispanic and Latino. Alejandro's latin blood really is canon, and the stereotypical 'Latin Lover' archetype he fills (alongside the "Archvillain" he's titled as) is all the more accurate. He's evidently very proud of both heritages.

To clarify, the Burromuertos moved to Peru when Alejandro was young to be with his Mother's side of the family.

If we want to really wade into the theoretical waters, I'd like to suggest that Alejandro's father left Spain because he disgraced himself/his family in some way, and that's why he's so insistent on his sons restoring the family pride and prestige.

So, I've established Alejandro's ethnicity and touched on the bare-bones basics of his home life. But what about his other brother, or his uncle? You know, the characters that were mentioned once and never expanded upon. Don't worry, I've got notes on them too.

Carlos: The eldest child and a professional soccer player. Alejandro doesn't mention anything about a rivalry with Carlos. Instead, he suggests the two share a healthier bond as Carlos taught him soccer skills. 'Carlos' the name is a Spanish variant of Charles, meaning "free man". Fitting, since it's widely assumed that Carlos escaped from the Burromuerto home's harmful environment at his first opportunity and 'freed himself' from their high expectations/standards, hence why he doesn't engage in the family-typical hypercompetitive bullying. A somewhat common fandom troupe I've seen is Carlos being disowned by the Burromuertos, and post-World Tour/All-Stars Alejandro reconnecting with him after he too is disowned.

Uncle Julio: The hypnotist. All we really know about Julio is his name and occupation, but it's enough to pin him down as Alejandro's maternal uncle. Alejandro states that he learned hypnosis from Julio in The EX-Files; as he grew up in Peru, the only family he reasonably could have interacted with outside of the nuclear unit would be his mother's relatives. His comment "manipulation runs in the family" is never ascribed to the Burromuertos by name, which adds to the implication that Julio isn't his father's brother, as any skill as useful as hypnosis would definitely be branded under his surname otherwise. Additionally, 'Julio' as a name is derivative of the Latin Julius or Julianus (meaning "Devoted to Jove/Jupiter", the Roman incarnation of Zeus, though I can't find any meaning in this applicable to his character), and not a strictly Spanish name like those of Alejandro and his brothers. Instead, it's common in most Hispanic and Latin American countries.

José: The middle child and Alejandro's source of his lingering childhood trauma, if the aversion to the nickname "Al" is anything to go by, I've already written about their relationship. The name 'José' is a Spanish variant of Joseph, which means "to add/give" in it's simplest interpretation. He sure does give Alejandro a tonne of issues, so I suppose it tracks.

*And finally, analysing the symbolism of Alejandro's name.

Alejandro, derived from Alexander, meaning "warrior" and "man's defender". Though in Al's case, it's likely a reference to Alexander the Great as opposed to the name's literal meaning/origins- Alejandro conquered the competition like Alexander conquered his empire.

Burromuerto's double idioms combine "beating a dead horse donkey" with "blind as a bat", likely as a convoluted way to say he's blinding the dead donkey; in this case, the beaten dead horse donkey is the OG cast of Total Drama who have already been milked for two seasons of content and have little left to offer (therefore, the third season is the beating of the dead horse, as its' an attempt to force content out of a resource with nothing left to give. that's why they added two more competitors, if that makes any sense? I'm not sure if I'm explaining this well enough,) and Alejandro is deceiving or 'blinding' them through his manipulations.

Obviously, this is all speculation written by someone with too much free time and no expertise. All of my knowledge/facts come from google searches and connecting dots that likely have no real links to each other. I'm not an authority on any subject. Keep that in mind, please.

Feel free to add your own opinions/thoughts! Or correct things that are be wrong!

[dreamersbcll]

“I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule”

- whumptober, prompt no. 24

(goodbye, goodbye, goodbye)

—————————————————————————

Dear Mom,

I’ve started this letter so many times that I’m sure permanently smeared ink will be embedded in my skin.

There was an outline, a plan even for this letter. I’ve structured it over and over to get it right. But I suppose there is no right way to say goodbye, is there?

Well, I’ve spoiled it. This is a goodbye letter of sorts. I’m not really sure who I’m saying goodbye to anymore. Which mother will be reading this piece of paper?

Will it be the mother you were before I turned nine? I miss her, you know. You were so sweet in the beginning. I still hold myself at night to remember your presence. I know Sam loves to touch, but you were big on touch, Mom. You taught us how to be gentle and leave gentle markings.

Do you remember the night you first read “Mi Burro enfermo” to us? I remember it—every single second. I remember you holding me tight, letting my chubby fingers touch the crinkled pages. Sam was pressed into my side, and you held us both, kissing our heads as Sam read to me. You would correct her ever so gently and praise her every time she got a word right. I think I was three. Even that young, I remember it all.

What happened there? When did you stop reading to us? Where did the mother with the kind hands and the sweet smile go? Why did you stop making our lunches and taking us to the bus stop?

Why did you start drinking?

I mean, we were not enough anymore? Mom, I was six. Six years old and helping Sam drag you inside so you didn’t freeze out on the front lawn. I remember learning how to make you throw up, just in case you stopped responding. Sam had to teach me to call 911 and check for your pulse. I was six, Mom. Six!

Did you ever think of us, what this would do to us? God, I know having a child born from a serial killer is terrible, but isn’t child neglect worse? I don’t know why you did this to us. I wonder every single day if I deserved that. You were my mami. I love you. Why couldn’t you love us?

Why couldn’t you love me

I know I cried a lot. I know I was noisy. I know I was too much. But I was a child—a baby. I didn’t know better. I just wanted my mami to love me again.

But your jealousy, god, I can still see it now. You always talked down to me as if I would always be around and be your little pawn. All I wanted was to love you. I wanted to love you and be loved back. But you pushed my love away like it was a loaded gun- and pushed me down time and time again. All you did was hold me underwater, breaking my resolve until I was a shell of myself.

Dad leaving was tough. I know. I saw. But I lived that too- I was there. I was eight years old, mom eight! I know he left, and I know he hurt you, even if you didn’t love him like you loved Billy. But why couldn’t you ever think about us?

First, you left me, then Dad, then Sam. You had to know that Sam going was the final straw. You had to hear me cry and scream, and break things. I know you saw me, red-eyes and shaking, begging for someone to stay. I remember those nights when I begged you to love me again. I was thirteen. God, was I stupid.

It really was no surprise that I would run. I’m just surprised that it took me so long. I mean, it's clear that I’m a masochist, constantly begging for love from empty people. I just can’t believe it took me this long to buck up.

But it was because of Sam. Never you. Don’t ever get that twisted. I never would’ve left if it wasn’t for her coming back. I was invested, Mom; I was going to stay in that stupid little town and take care of your sorry ass. God. I’m so glad I’m writing this now to tell you goodbye.

That’s right. Yeah. I’m leaving with Sam. We’re going to be far away from this hellhole of a town. I will never step foot in this town again, and I will never walk back into this house.

I don’t care what you think. If I wrote this a year ago, maybe I would feel guilty. But all I have left for you is rage. I can’t give you my sorrow or hurt anymore. It’s just red-hot rage.

The questions I have for you won’t get answered. I know that you were never keen on tying up loose ends. But don’t worry, your questions will never be answered either. I’m done with you.

Fuck you, Mom. Fuck you for all you’ve done to me.

Yet, I still love you. You’re my mom. I have a big sister who means more to me than you’ll ever know- but you’re still my mom. You’ll still be a part of me.

But you will never touch me again. Ever. Sam will make sure of that.

Goodbye, mom. Good luck.

Don’t forget to stick your fingers down your throat.

Love

From, Tara.

Putting the pencil down, Tara sighed deeply, her eyes closing. She roughly rubbed her face, trying to push the worry out of her skin. There was no reason to carry it around anymore.

Down the hall, she could hear Sam shuffling about, collecting the last of Tara’s bags.

“Are you ready to go, baby?” Sam called, lightly knocking on the door.

Flashing a smile at her big sister, Tara nodded.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Tara calls back, hastily shoving the letter into an envelope.

Staring at the blank envelope, she pondered what to write. Christina felt too formal, but mom didn’t feel right. Taking the pen out, she scribbled a quick word on it and stuck the pen behind her ear.

Mami

As she left the room, she stared at the propped up envelope, wondering if it would ever be read.

Maybe. Maybe not. She wouldn't worry about it anymore. It was time to move forward.

[wobblewobble822]

Jesus.

Bring it on.

Got me begging for more Hali!! 😭😩

FUCKING—AGUST, you’re definitely gonna be a menace.

Jungkookie we would never hurt you, unless you do something totally unforgivable. 😀

This Burro guy sounds like he’d be a problem and a total ass.

But Len’s words have definitely struck a cord especially with Agust coming to the picture…I just know it’s gonna be chaotic. 😈🔥

@sailoryooons

Obsidian | 1 | (myg)

☾ Summary: You’ve never been able to forget a face. Neither has Min Yoongi. And you both remember the face of the man who ruined your lives.

☾ Word Count: 7,979

☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut

☾ Rating: Dead Dove. Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and death, graphic depictions of blood and dismemberment, mentions of death and previous suffering, mentions of withdrawal like symptoms and sickness, on screen murder and death, depictions of gore (people literally get exploded I’m so sorry), mentions of power and wealth disparity between glasses, general warnings associated with gang/criminal empires, recreational drinking, explicit language… I think that’s it (she says, knowing there is a ton of blood in this). 

☾ A/N: Hi, I am so nervous to be writing this series again and re-doing what I feel like I got wrong the first time. I hope you like the new and what I think is an improved version. This chapter has the bones of its predecessor, but is a lot heavier and is very different from the first chapter in the original fic. I don’t pull punches on the gore/murder here because it is very… I do it this way for a reason, I swear. This is shorter than the original, but I hope you like it nonetheless and I’m excited to share more with you. 

☾ A/N 2: Happy New Year! I hope your 2025 goes better than readers lmfao. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Tag List Requests ☾Series Masterlist ☾ Playlist ☾ Previous ☾ Next

Market Town is a writing mass of snakes. At least, that’s what it feels like when you get pushed and shoved in the street, trying to find a single flow of people going the direction you need. The press of bodies is so close you can smell the sweat of people as they pass by, feel the slick of their skin as biceps press by yours. 

It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and slither away somewhere dark and cool. 

Someone with sickly sweet perfume goes by. You scrunch your nose, blowing air harshly out your nostrils to try and dispel the scent. Perfume doesn’t do much to cover the stench of bodies and the grime-slicked streets, but it doesn’t stop from the general population pumping it on, creating a cacophony of smells.

At least it isn’t raining - the smell is worse when it rains. 

Vendors shout prices from a variety of stands - some crooked, some well-built, some nothing more than a table, some three tables long. There are carts everywhere, some in the middle of the road with the bodies of people breaking around them like water on rock, some in permanent storefronts beneath the towering wall of apartments above, others on rolling carts knocking people over as vendors hawk their wares. 

Taking a left turn, you breathe in as the crowd thins. Most of the population of Market Town exists on the single, wide street that carves through the middle of the Lower District. Alleyways offer less crowded offshoots to businesses who don’t exist on the main thoroughfare 

Metal ladders and staircases line the sides of the alleyway like intricate spider webs. You narrowly step to the left, sensing the spill of liquid from above just before it hits the pavement in a splash. Glancing upward, you see the window closing - whoever threw the liquid out the window didn’t care whether it hit you or not, and from the smell of it, it isn’t water. 

Multiple flickers of energy radiate somewhere in the hundred something windows of apartments. You ignore it as you walk down the street, hands tucked into your pocket and eyes forward. You sense them like lights on a heat map, each one different, some brighter than others. 

Head down, you push onward, keeping to yourself and moving swiftly. Market Town isn’t always dangerous - you’re not close enough to Gwishin territory to worry about your affiliation being a problem - but it’s not exactly safe either. 

You take another turn, skirting the back of an apartment building. Here, the dumpsters are overflowing into the street and cats hiss at you as you pass by. You hiss back, flashing your teeth to make them scurry off. You don’t have to radiate for them to know you’re a danger to them - a lot of people are not above catching and cooking the cats in Market Town, especially during winter.

Cutting down an alley, you come to a dead end with a chain link fence. You climb it easily, the wire bending beneath your feet as you do. Scaling and hopping over the other side, you land with a splash. You grimace, not wanting to know what your jeans are wet with as you jog to the mouth of the alleyway and back into the main street of Market Town. 

The crowd isn’t as compact here. Sun beats down, just past its zenith as it crawls toward early afternoon. You head right toward Namjoon’s massive stall, a crooked structure with rusty nails that leans dangerously close to Margot’s fruit stand. 

No matter how many times Margot has asked Namjoon to fix the leaning stand, he never does, despite the fact that Namjoon can fix almost anything in the city. He likes electronics, though, which is why you approach him as he leans over a tiny watch, goggles on with a soldering tool in hand. 

On the other side of Namjoon is Len’s stand. The old man is vacant from it for the time being, leaving his crystals and tarot cards to the empty wind. His stand is just a simple piece of plywood supported by cinder blocks with an always-wet and stained purple tapestry across the top. He suddenly appears, as though your presence has manifested him.

“The world is ending,” Len warns you. “The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

“Hi, Len,” you greet, making Namjoon look up at the sound of your voice. “Thank you for the warning.” 

Len warns you of a variety of different things whenever you visit. His gnarled finger points to you, hands liver spotted and shaking when he makes his predictions. You don’t know of any Radiants that are able to predict the future, but you know Len is Radiant. You can feel the pulse of his energy underneath his skin, stronger than most people in Market Town. He wears no jewels, but there’s a single, opal tucked into the pocket of his shirt. 

Just like there’s a rose quartz hidden in Namjoon’s shoe. He doesn’t know you know, of course. Namjoon doesn’t know much about you, but he does know that he should keep his jewels to himself. People like to murder and steal jewels all over the city, but particularly in Market Town where they can vanish into thick crowds and get away with it.

“I have your repair for you,” Namjoon says, lifting up his goggles and putting down his soldering tool. “A fascinating piece of technology. Kind of dangerous though, no?” 

“For some people, maybe.” You cross your arms over your chest as he ducks under his table, sliding open multiple drawers as he tries to find the object he fixed for you. “Not me.” 

It is dangerous to you, actually. Using it nearly incapacitates you, but he doesn’t need to know that. Namjoon doesn’t know you’re a Radiant. He’s too light on the Jewel Caste to tell, and most Radiants can’t sense other Radiants without detecting the jewels they wear anyway. 

Namjoon lets out a soft ah ha and sits up in his chair, placing a bracelet on the table. It’s nondescript and silver with a single, circular charm on it. Namjoon slides it over to you, leaning over it to assess it again. His eyes are glittering as he runs a finger over it. 

“I fixed the soldering on the inside of the charm. It was damaged due to a melted wire. Fascinating how small the tech in this thing is. It emits high pitched frequencies, right?” 

“Mhmm.” You pick up the bracelet, easily clasping it on your wrist. “How much?” 

“No cost. It was a fun little device to look at. Aren’t these illegal?”

“You can’t not charge me. I told you to stop giving people their shit for free.”

His cheeks turn cherry as he scratches the back of his neck. “Fine, what about five nil?” You toss the coins on the table. “It’s a mini shatterwave, right? The high-pitched frequency scatters the frequency of Radiants?” 

You give him an annoyed look. “Yes.” 

“Who made it? It’s a fascinating device.” 

Instead of answering Namjoon’s question, you toss another five nil on the table. “For silence,” you tell him firmly. 

He wants to ask another question. You can see it in his face. Namjoon is always asking you questions about the things you bring to him. It isn’t his job to ask questions, especially as freely as he asks them, which is all you need to know that places like Market Town are not where Namjoon was raised. 

Nothing Namjoon does is that of someone low born. He’s too polite, gives too many handouts, and lets his curiosity get the best of him. You’re fond of him as much as someone of your position is allowed to be - maybe even a little more. Namjoon is a danger to himself, no matter how often you keep steering him back in the right direction. 

“You!” Len leans over Namjoon’s table, his glassy green eyes wide, pupils dilated. His hair is white as salt and sticks up in multiple directions, looking as though he may have been electrocuted and never recovered. He points one knobby finger at you. “The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

“That sounds lovely, Len.” 

You predict the next words. You’ve heard him say prepare for the end dozens of times. Instead, he says, “Obsidian.” 

You blink in surprise. That has yet to be a response in your little game of prophecy, and you open your mouth to indulge and ask him what he means when something tingles at the back of your neck. 

You pause and glance to the side where Margot is dealing with a customer arguing about the price of squash. A soft breeze rustles the canvas topper to Margot’s stand, carrying the scent of tangerine with it. Something is buzzing at the back of your neck, and your gaze slowly drifts from Margot to a man passing by the cart. 

This is someone who blends in. His clothes are plain: his pants are ripped at the knees and scuffed at the bottom, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest in places where he’s sweating through. He has a floral shirt pulled over the tee, open and fluttering in the balmy breezy of the market.

Nothing about him is remarkable, except that he’s beautiful. Perhaps not at first glance… No, that's not right. It feels like you have to blink several times to perceive him, like there’s something about him interfering with your vision the first time you look at him, but when you really look, it’s like piercing through a veil to see the truth. 

He has a round face, glowing and pale like the moon. Inky hair that is a little bit dirty, a few wavy pieces falling over cat-sharp eyes. He smirks as he walks, and though he isn’t looking at you, he seems smug about something. You’re not sure what, but as he passes you, you feel that tingle again. 

Your eyes dart to all of the places you look for jewels first. Hands, ears, neck, and wrists. Nothing, there’s no jewel on him. You can’t sense a frequency on him, which means he doesn’t have jewels, but it’s definitely a Radiant-adjacent sensation. He’s on the caste, but you don’t know where.

Most Radiants feel like a dull buzz when they get close to you. If they have jewels, it’s more like an itch that you want to - no, need to scratch. Jewels pull in Radiants like flowers attract bees. It is an instinct for a Radiant to want to use a jewel, which is part of what makes being a Radiant so dangerous. Jewels always have the potential to corrupt the user, especially the darker the jewel. 

When the strange man gets a few yards away, the sensation begins to fade. You start to turn away but he tosses something up and the air and catches it. You narrow your eyes and he does it again. It’s a tangerine. You watch him toss and catch the object a few times, the skin of the fruit supple, the sunlight glinting off its ripe skin. It’s definitely one of Margot’s - he has the only ripe fruit in all of Market Town, thanks to his hidden jewels. 

Which means this stranger stole it. 

It puzzles you. He hadn’t walked directly by Margot’s cart. From the moment you turned around, he had kept a wide berth, walking a few yards away. And yet the tangerine is in his hand, ripe and round, the perfect shade of orange. 

Something about him makes you step toward him. A breeze comes down the street, lifting the ends of your shirt and carrying the smell of sizzling meat and grease, accompanied by the sweet fruit from Margot’s cart. Sound fades to the background, your focus on the man so singular that everything else becomes secondary. 

The man keeps walking, tossing the fruit up into the air and catching it easily. He starts to round the corner of a block, but pauses, turning to look over his shoulder. He looks right at you, cat-eyes zeroing in with uncanny precision. 

It’s like the world fades away to leave the two of you in an impenetrable bubble. You see no one else but him and those feline eyes, his head cocking to the side as he drinks you in. It makes you nervous the way he looks at you, like he sees you just as clearly as you see him. 

You don’t like that, used to the shadows and being unseen. 

He grins once and winks before turning and vanishing down the alleyway, fruit in hand. 

Sound comes back to you, the spell broken. You snap your head toward Len’s cart, where he is breathing heavily, hands clutching his table while he looks at you, eyes wild. Namjoon tries to gently pry Len’s hands from the table, but the man tears away from him, pointing a finger at you. 

“The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

-

Cool air breathes against the back of your neck as you walk to work. A flock of crows startle in an alleyway as you pass them, squawking angrily and hopping away from the dead carcass of something - or someone - until you’re gone and passed, no longer a threat. 

The lane of pockmarked pavement between the left and right sides of the street is totally devoid of cars. No one in the Lower District drives vehicles. They can’t afford them, so the Armory leaves all of the roads to disrepair, letting the pavement cave in and crack with time.

You keep your eye on the other side of the street as you walk. It’s lined with clubs and bars and gambling dens that belong to the Jiangshi, the ghoulish symbol of the organization painted on doors and signs. They aren’t an enemy of the Yong organization - no one technically is an enemy on paper - but you keep your wits about you regardless, never trusting anyone that doesn’t bear the green dragon of the Park family. 

The sun is sinking toward its final goodbye, rays of gold light cut in half by the towering buildings of the Civ District just a few miles away. It’s a beautiful sight, a shot straight down to the lower elevation of the giant buildings turned burnish gold by the sunset. 

Even from a distance, the commercial district of the city is imposing, its steel teeth biting upward at a colored sky. You wonder what it must be like to live in that world. To work or live in one of the Civ towers. You imagine you’d have your own little office with a desk and a private window to look out at the world. So high up near the clouds, a god of civilization. 

You’d been a god once. It hadn’t worked out so well. 

A group of Yong members pour out of the door of the Jade Dragon and onto the sidewalk. It draws your attention away from the shining, ever-golden Civ District to the flickering neon sign above a banged-up metal door. It looks like the lock is busted again and you make a note to tell Burro. Not that he’ll get it fixed. It’s not worth the nil to fix anything in the Jade Dragon, including the mangrove rat infestation brought in with one of the liquor shipments from the Salt District.

Inside the bar is no better. Sticky floors, wobbling tables with chipped wood and scratched lacquer coating, a single bar with broken stools pulled up to the edge. There are a few holoscreens flickering above the colorful bottles that line the bar, sometimes interrupted by Jungkook’s tattooed hand reaching for bottles.  

The Jade Dragon is rarely busy. It’s a new acquisition fronted by the Yong organization, though the building isn’t new and neither is the bar. It had been closed for almost fifteen years, a rotted hole of a used-to-be-bar until Jimin opened it up again. He doesn’t intend for it to be a popular place to drink as much as he needs it for Yong operations, but he fixed it up a bit. 

As you round the bar to throw your shit in the office, a mangrove rat scurries by your feet, making you screech and jump. Jungkook lifts his head, round eyes sweeping back and forth for danger, hands cocked and fists half-clenched. He catches sight of the rat scurrying into one of the holes in the side of the wall and scowls before nodding in greeting.

So maybe Jimin hadn’t fixed up the bar that much. 

Entering the manager’s office, you’re just as pleased as you are displeased to discover that Burro isn’t in the bar at all. You suspect your manager is down the block wasted in the Green Garter and throwing nil at women dancing on the bar tops.

After leaving your belongings in the manager's office - might as well be your office -  you start helping Jungkook maintain the system behind the bar, which is mostly cleaning vigorously at all times to fight the grime that seems to inch up on the place every hour and finding things to do to pass time.

Working with Jungkook is your favorite. He’s a quiet kid with a guarded expression and soft eyes. You don’t ask him much about how he got here or why. Jimin seems to show him the same reverence as when he first found you, so it’s safe to assume that Jungkook is a stray, and most of all useful.

Useful is important to Jimin. He doesn’t bring people into the Yong fold unless they’re of some use to him, no matter how much it might seem like he’s doing them a favor. There are no such things as favors in this world, and you know that better than anyone. 

Even without jewels, Jungkook is a threat. He’s tall and broad, his arms thick and strong enough to lift kegs one-armed over his shoulder. You’ve seen him go from quiet and unassuming behind the bar to throwing a jeweled Radiant across the street. 

Jungkook’s energy vibrates somewhere on the light colors, maybe opal or selenite. It’s hard to tell because he never wears jewels - you’ve never even seen him use jewels. You don’t know if he ever has, just that he has the potential to, his frequency buzzing somewhere on the light end of the Jewel Caste. 

“Where’s Burro?” you ask Jungkook, tossing glasses into the dishwasher and slamming the front shut with your hip. 

“Who knows. Haven’t seen him since I got here.”

“Was the bar just… empty when you came in?”

“Yep.”

Gritting your teeth, you remain silent. Jungkook already knows you hate the manager - so does Jimin. There isn’t a customer who frequents the Jade Dragon who doesn’t know your distaste for the drunkard idiot who runs this place under Jimin’s banner, except perhaps the drunken idiot himself. 

How Burro manages to carry fluorite is beyond you. He shouldn’t even be able to radiate with the colors on the light end of the Jewel Caste, much less the mid colors. You suspect it’s the only reason Jimin lets him pretend to manage the bar at all. That, and because Burro’s father is someone important to the Yong organizational structure. 

Not like you. You’re a nobody among nobodies right beside Jungkook, two Radiants who don’t carry jewels working in a shitty bar and serving the Radiants who wear their jewels proudly.

The Radiants of the Yong organization don’t know that, naturally.

As far as a majority of them are aware, you and Jungkook are two Nulls - people who can’t radiate with any of the gems on the Jewel Caste. Only a few of the elite members at the top are sensitive enough to frequency to pick up that either of you register on the Radiant-scale, and those members of the Yong organization don’t come to places like the Green Dragon. 

A group of lower level members swing through the door. They’re already drunk on low grain wash, an alcohol that’s so unfiltered it makes some people go blind. You smell it on them as they stumble over to the bar, laughing about some Jiangshi they fucked over at the card table across the street. 

You eye them as Jungkook nudges you out of the way to deal with them, his instinct to put himself between you and any group of men. It’s sweet. Jungkook hasn’t the slightest idea that you could kill the group of five without blinking, even without jewels. 

Fingering the charm on your bracelet, you let Jungkook take their order and start pulling out cups. You wander over to the corner under the guise of cleaning bottles, eyeing the group. You recognize three of them as regulars. 

Loro isn’t so bad, but he has a habit of chatting your ear off. He sits down closest to you, focused on telling the others a story, his crooked teeth visible every time he opens his mouth. He has a crooked nose, beak-like and prone to honking when he laughs at his own jokes. He waves his hand for effect as he tells his story, red spinel rings catching the light. 

Chanda sits next to him, his total opposite. In the year she’s been coming to the Jade Dragon, you don’t think you’ve heard Chanda speak. She ignores Loro’s story telling, staring straight forward, her jade eyes unfocused. You know she’s not as unaware as she seems, the pulse of her rubies reaching you from where she sits. 

Among the familiar faces, it’s Daniil you don’t like. He stands a head taller than Jungkook but is just as wide. His flint eyes glare at Jungkook as he slams down the cup he just emptied in a few gulps, asking for another. Jungkook is already filling it with wash before Daniil can finish the question, which pleases Daniil, his crooked smile slashing across his face. You see the flash of sapphire in his teeth, drilled in and hard to steal, a common practice among brutes belonging to the families that make up the Armory. 

Daniil doesn’t deserve sapphire. Jewels are powerful things, especially the darker they are on the Jewel Caste. Even the most practiced Radiants can’t wield dark colors well or with precision, and Daniil is far from skilled or efficient. Seeing him with a sapphire irks you, the gem in his tooth calling to you every time enters the bar. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

The other two men with him, you don’t recognize. You can sense the shorter one radiating at jasper and the taller one at peridot, making them the least powerful Radiants in the room. It’s always like that around Daniil, Radiants on the lighter side of the Caste following around in his shadow, making him feel big and powerful. 

Daniil is never around anyone who has a darker color. 

“Stupid fucking Jiangshi don’t know how to play cards,” Daniil laughs, throwing back another glass of wash. He doesn’t look like he needs more, eyes red and posture swaying with drink. Being a Radiant will burn away at the alcohol faster, but it seems he’s had plenty. “No wonder those stupid fucks are losing territory to the Kaiju.” 

The mention of the Kaiju organization strikes a nerve. You remain reactionless on the surface, but you feel yourself inwardly flinch. No matter how many times you hear them mentioned, you can’t get rid of that internal cringe, that instinct to react. 

What Daniil says about the Kaiju eating up more Jiangshi territory is true, but it has nothing to do with the way people under the black and white banner of the Salib family play cards. Kim Juwon, the head of the Kaiju organization, is entirely the reason for his family’s growth and prosperity. You can think of no one more ruthless and singularly focused on city domination than Kim Juwon.

Except his son, perhaps. 

The Kim family had been wealthy before the Armory was even a thought. They’d long been one of the most powerful Radiant families in Diade, and the most resistant to the construction of the Armory to balance the radical powers in the city. Of the five families making up the city’s governing body, they are by far the strongest, especially since the collapse of the Haechi organization over a dozen years ago. 

Jimin’s family are powerful as well, the leaders of the Yong organization. The Parks aren’t as strong as the Kims in jewel distribution, but they’re nearly as wealthy. Wealth matters just as much as having strong Radiants under your control, opening up access to exert their influence over the city by purchasing high grade jewels and businesses. 

The Jade Dragon is not one of those businesses used to impress the powers that be in the city. It is a place for you to sit and watch the Salib family across the street, and serve as a lowkey meeting space when Jimin feels like using it, which is almost never. 

And, you suppose, to entertain the lowest level of the Yong organization's goons, some of which are now loudly yelling at Jungkook who’s reminded them to pay their tab. 

“The fuck you mean pay the tab?” Daniil asks, slurring over his words. “We don’t have a tab.”

Jungkook is unfettered. “You do, and it’s unpaid for the last month. Mr. Park has reminded me to collect your payment at your earliest convenience.” 

“Where the fuck is Burro? We don’t have a tab, you fucking Null.”

Sighing, you throw down the rag in your hand. A pulse of energy ripples from Daniil. Jungkook glares at the man, his eyes darkening. You know he feels Daniil’s power too, and if the Radiants sitting at the bar weren’t piss drunk or useless, they might notice that Jungkook can feel their energy surging as they get annoyed with him. 

“Sit down,” you snap at Daniil, walking behind Jungkook and glaring at the others. “I’ll get Burro.” 

The door swings open at the front, causing everyone to swivel. At first, you think it might be Burro finally arriving to manage the bar. Instead, you see a man dressed in the black and white of the Jiangshi. The markings on his arms confirm it, skin covered in the monstrous creature the organization is named after. If his enraged expression didn’t put you on edge, the hidden sapphires on him would, the jewels throbbing as he seethes, staring at the group in front of you. 

Trepidation tingles on your skin. You reach out and grab Jungkook by the arm, tugging him lightly. He lets you move him, taking a few steps back to stand next to you and not behind you like you originally intended. He doesn’t seem to understand the danger of an angry Radiant with sapphires. 

“Ay,” Daniil grunts. “Come to piss your money away at more card games?” 

Ah. 

“Call Jimin,” you mutter to Jungkook, shoving him toward the backroom.

“You call Jimin. I’m not leaving you alone.” 

“I will be fine, kid. Do what I say.” 

Jungkook looks like he wants to argue, but the Jiangshi man takes a firm step into the room, jabbing a finger at the group of Yong sitting at the bar. “You cheated.” 

“He’s wearing sapphire,” you whisper to Jungkook, nudging him. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, turning quickly. “I’ll call Jimin.”

As Jungkook vanishes into the back, a ripple of energy goes through the room. The group of Yong members stand up, all of them swaying with drink/ They begin to radiate, the jewels on their persons making you itch. You shiver under the feeling, fingers twitching as you circle the edge of the bar to put some distance between you and them.

You don’t know who the Jiangshi man is. You’ve never seen him among the few of his organization that come into the Jade Dragon. He seems to be sound of mind, unlike the Yong members, and despite being outnumbered, the Jiangshi man carries one of the darkest jewels on the Caste, capable of destructive, severe psychic attacks, and shadow manipulation if he’s strong enough. 

Daniil uses sapphire too, but you know based on observation he only knows how to use it for brute force, incapable of developing his skillset to the finer uses of the jewel. And he’s piss drunk, wavering as he stares down at his opponent as though he can intimidate him, his sapphire power flickering in comparison to the Jianghi’s pulsing.

“We didn’t do anything,” Loro practically whines. “You’re just useless at cards. Why don’t you go back to your side of the street, ghoul.” 

“I want the money you stole from me.”

The stranger takes a few more steps into the bar and you feel him take a deep breath. You react faster than any of the other Radiants in the bar, dropping to the floor as a blast of energy erupts from him. Wood cracks and furniture goes flying, blown out in every direction. You hear the shriek and shatter of glass as someone tumbles over the top of the bar behind you. 

You turn to see Loro groaning on the floor, covered in glass and alcohol. His arm is at an odd angle as he attempts to roll and remove the weight from it. As someone who uses a red jewel, you know he’ll be fine. Radiants who use red jewels can heal faster as well as move faster, but not only is Loro’s reaction time affected by how drunk he is, his spinel jewel is significantly lighter on the Jewel Caste in comparison to sapphire. 

More energy slams into the bar, making it rattle and splinter. You’re not in the Jiangshi’s line of sight, so whatever wave of destruction is pouring from him misses you. Chanda lets out a feral scream, hot anger licking through the room like flame. Like Loro, her jewel sits on the red spectrum, her ruby making her stronger and faster but also feral in battle, a warlord in her own right. 

It doesn’t matter, though. Ruby is still a medium color on the Jewel Caste, too light to take on a sapphire Radiant in their right mind. She joins Loro in being tossed over the counter, landing half on top of him and making him yell out as his wounded arm snaps again. You grimace. 

You don’t dare look around the corner, ducking further and covering your head when something takes a chunk out of the bar just above you. Water sprays you, the handle of a soda gun hitting your shoulder as it goes flying. Liquid pools around your feet alongside glass and wood chips. 

“Fuckers,” you hiss. “Stop destroying my bar!” 

It isn’t technically your bar, but you’re the only one who cares enough to oversee it. Now, you let it get torn apart as the Jiangshii and Daniil go at it, their sapphire energy slamming into everything around you. You feel their jewels throw with power, begging you to take them, to rip them off the men’s bodies and make them your own.

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

There’s a guttural yell followed by something wet spraying over the bar. It hits your skin, warm. You don’t need to look to know it’s blood, frowning as the room falls into utter silence.

There’s only one sapphire signature pulsing in the bar now a few yards away from you - not Daniil, you surmise. You don’t sense either of the stranger’s that had been with Daniil in his friends, their light colors stomped out on the first blast of energy from the Jiangshi. 

Heavy boots thud against concrete, moving in your direction. Fuck. Sapphire energy makes the air quiver as he moves closer, rounding the bar in front of you. You uncover your head and look up. The Jiangshi is covered in blood and the fleshy remains of someone - you don’t know who. His pupils are dilated, hungry, wild as the power of his jewels race through him, making him feel like a god. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

The man lifts a hand and you feel the energy shiver around him for his killing blow. You click the charm on your bracelet and the world shatters. 

A high-pitched screech erupts in the Jade Dragon. The man yells, dropping to his knees, hands clapped over his ears. It won’t help him drown out the sound of the high-frequency screaming coming from your bracelet, interrupting his ability to radiate. 

You feel nausea roll through your stomach and your world spins. The noise is unbearable, your eyes watering and your blood screaming. It feels like you’re being torn apart, your natural frequency being shredded as the bracelet continues to scream.

Your vision is blurry but you reach for a broken shard of glass. It cuts into your palm, the sting far outweighed by the pain of your wailing bracelet. The Jiangshi man tries to reach for you, the veins in his neck bulging, eyes wide and blood red as his frequency scatters, energy frantic and unsure where to go. 

Pain is the one thing most Radiants can’t stand. The world is handed to them on a silver platter, wealth and opportunities given to them simply because they can access a power that most people in the world can’t. They cannot fathom a world full of suffering and agony, because they’ve never had to endure to survive. 

It is their greatest weakness and your biggest strength. 

Gripping the shard of glass tight, you drive it through the man’s neck. It’s messy, the artery exploding under the sharp edge of the weapon. You cringe, letting it go as the blood floods his neck. He gurgles, wavering under the onslaught of the sound coming from your bracelet as he tries to grip the piece of glass and remove it. 

He doesn’t, choking until he loses the strength to remain on his knees, falling backwards and collapsing onto the floor. You watch, shivering as your mind nearly splits at the sound before his fingers twitch a final time. Only then do you press the charm on your bracelet again.

Silence sweeps over the bar. You fall backward, panting and dizzy from the sound. Your entire body shakes. It feels like a knife has carved its way through your skull, rendering you useless and half alive. Everything hurts, the pain throbbing with every breath you take. 

But you work is not done.

You nearly vomit when you roll over. The after effects of having a shatterwave used on you are worse than a hangover or drug withdrawal. Your hands are clammy and slippery with blood when you manage to get on all fours, nearly falling with the fresh wave of pain that slams you.

The sapphires on the Jiangshi’s body call to you like a drug. You feel their pulse, a siren song that you cannot resist as you crawl toward him, hands sliding against the wet concrete. Alcohol mixes with blood, turning the ground pink as you near him. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

Hands shaking, you defile the Jiangshi’s body by ripping his shirt open to reveal the necklace hanging against his sweaty, bloody body, a single pendant with a sapphire set into a cushion of smaller, false sapphires. It is soaked in blood but it doesn’t matter. A jewel is a jewel, and by law, any jewel on his body is yours to take now, so you yank it, popping the chain as you do.  

Power fills you. It immediately overcomes you, knocking you sideways as the world vanishes and there’s nothing but sapphire. Blood rushes through you faster, stronger. A tremor of elation and terror goes through you, leaving you twitching and panting against the dead body of the man whose sapphire you just stole. 

Gritting your teeth, you tamp down on the power. It takes all of your effort, breathing in deeply through your nose and out with your mouth. You taste iron and salt, blood blooming in your mouth as you bite your tongue. You don’t even feel it, the power of the sapphire masking your pain. 

Stomach roiling, you slip and stumble up to your feet. Darkness pulses at the edge of your vision, the room tilting as you lose your balance and stumble against the bartop. Glass bites into your hands, sinking deep into your palm as you fight the sapphire for control as it threatens to overwhelm you and eat you up from the inside out. 

Finally, you gain control. The trembling starts to peter out and the sickness starts to fade as you acclimate to the sapphire, finally calm after a terrifying moment of raging storm. 

Placated, you turn to face the two remaining members of the Jade Dragon twitching on the floor as they try to recover from the shatterwave. They’re both staring at you, eyes bulging both as a result of having suffered from the shatterwave and at seeing you hold and resonate with sapphire without immediately being scored with power. 

They can’t know. 

Chanda tries to react as you sigh. You feel her gather the energy of her rubies but you’re already acting, radiating with the sapphire and striking out toward her with a sharp and precise blow. You don’t even lift your hand to do it, feeling the shape and the size of your slice of energy as it cuts through the air and hits them both.

It is far messier than you intend. You’d wanted a clean slice through them both - efficient, easy to deal with, not gruesome. But you haven’t used jewels in years, and the blow lands on them like an explosive, blasting the two of them backward the same way the Jiangshi killed Daniil. 

You blanch as parts of them both go flying. It’s gory and wet, the perfect picture of what an untrained Radiant can do with a dark jewel. You’re not untrained but you’re certainly out of practice, splattering the two of them the same way a child might paint on a canvas. 

Gore decorates the room, bits of organs and bone covering the walls with blood. A lot of blood. 

It gets the job done, despite not being what you wanted. With extreme effort, you turn around and chuck the sapphire back toward the dead Jiangshi. You immediately feel the need to crawl after it, your skin itching, nervous system turning in on itself as it craves the energy. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

Fighting nausea, you lean on the bar, pulling the bottom of your shirt up to wipe your face. Your fingers are slick with blood, bits of glass embedded in your skin. Small annoyances, in comparison to the way the sapphire screams at you to pick it back up, calls to you, begs you, sings to you-

“What the fuck?” Jungkook’s voice makes you look up at him. He’s standing in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes. 

You have no idea how long he’s been standing there. Under the influence of sapphire, you’d become totally unaware of him, which shames you to no end. You used to be better - needed to be better. Had your old master known you’d barely managed to use sapphire and forgotten about Jungkook, you’d have been punished with being stripped of your jewels and shut in a room for a week with them just out of reach, just enough to make you go through withdrawal while they were right there. 

Jungkook takes a step away from you and you see it. The fear, the trepidation. You shake your head, itching at your arm - the need to itch isn’t real, but the withdrawal from the sapphire is already there, gnawing at you. 

“Not gonna kill you,” your words are a little slurred. “Don’t tell anyone.” 

“You’re a Radiant.”

“You are too.”

He opens and closes his mouth. He hadn’t expected that. “You can use sapphire,” he points out, as though that makes you worse, somehow. Maybe it does. 

“Yeah, well. Shut your mouth about it. Don’t tell Jimin you know.”

“Jimin knows?”

“‘Course he does.” You push off the bar. “Tell him you don’t know what happened out here because of the shatterwave. He’ll know it was me.” 

“I…” Jungkook hesitates. “Alright.” He surveys the bodies - lack there of - face paling. “What now?” 

Outside, a car door shuts. Almost no one drives a car down to this part of the Lower District, and only one person would be doing it directly to the door of the Jade Dragon. 

You turn to Jungkook, pointing at the backroom. “Go in the office,” you whisper. “Tell him the shatterwave kept you incapacitated. Whatever you do, do not tell him you know I can radiate, Jungkook.” 

As Jungkook vanishes to the back, you step in front of the swinging door, breaking the line of vision from the front just as the entrance opens. Jimin steps into the bar, the air turning heavy with his emerald energy as he does. 

Park Jimin looks out of place. He always looks out of place in the dingy light and crooked setting of the Jade Dragon, but now with furniture fractured and strewn across the room, painted in blood and various bits of sinew, the contrast is severe.

Jimin is dressed in a crisp, white suit, not a spec of dirt or dust on him. His blonde hair is slicked back and pristine as his attire. Emerald earrings glitter in his hair, matching the emerald brooch in the shape of a dragon on his suit pocket and the emerald rings on four of his fingers. 

He is the epitome of Armory families, his jewels on display without fear of someone taking them, flexing his wealth and access to the fingest gems in his city. He’s also painfully beautiful, with full lips that usually require cosmetic alteration to achieve and high, rounded cheekbones. His eyes are sharp and intense with unending darkness, a siren gaze, some say. 

Jimin embodies the Yong organization perfectly: regal, proud and elegant as the dragon. Just as deadly. 

Taking a single step into the bar, Jimin’s gaze sweeps the room, taking in the carnage before landing on you standing in the middle of it. You do and say nothing, waiting under the pressure of his emerald aura. The emerald screams at you less than the sapphire, more of an annoyance than it is a demand to take it. 

“Well,” Jimin announces, his voice soft as silk. “This is going to be expensive.”

“Just buy more shitty furniture. It wasn’t pretty before.” 

He gives you a warning glare before walking further into the room, picking his way through the carnage. “Your handy work?”

“Not at first.” 

“I see, let me rephrase the question - what’s yours?” 

“Behind the bar.” 

“Hmm.” 

The sound of his boots clicking feels like he’s loading a gun, each step a bullet sliding into place as he decides whether or not he’s going to fire it. You watch as he drifts toward the bar, stopping when he gets to the dead Jiangshi first. He hums as though he’s impressed, eyes following the blood trail until he gets to the pièce de résistance behind you.

“Explain.”

“They saw.” 

“So you exploded them?”

You wince. “I’m not used to sapphire.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply and letting it out. You can feel his emerald energy like a waterfall, all roaring power but contained. “You have fucked up.”

“No,” you correct. “I am not the manager of this bar.” 

Jimin considers this and then shrugs. “Well you’re not wrong. Where is that jackass?”

“Probably face deep in tits.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, jeweled fingers tapping his elbow. Then he points at the dead Jiangshi. “Said Daniil and the others cheated him out of cards. He decided killing them wasn’t enough, so I used a shatterwave.” 

“Ah.” He flickers his eyes toward the entrance where you hear the door open behind you. “Ah, Agust, I forgot we had an appointment. As you can see, I’m a bit indisposed at the moment.” 

Strange, crackling energy radiates behind you. Frowning, you look over your shoulder and freeze. 

Standing in the doorway is the man from Market Town that stole a tangerine from Margot’s fruit cart. He’s dressed in the same scuffed and ripped jeans and white t-shirt under a floral shirt. His cat eyes are glittering when they settle on you, his mouth curving wickedly.

I see you, this smile seems to say, making you squirm.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” the tangerine thief - Agust - answers. “It was a bit dull in here.” His dark eyes trail to where Loro and Chanda paint the wall. “That work of art is particularly interesting.” 

“Yes, we’re certainly good at redecorating.” Jimin’s gaze is hard when he looks at you before he turns back to Agust and softens. “Do you mind rescheduling our appointment? It seems I need to get some things in order.” 

Agust looks at Jimin directly in the eyes, like an equal. There is no air of superiority between the two of them, making you wonder where exactly this smug man falls on the spectrum of city authority. Jimin also doesn’t hide the fact that the mess belongs to you. Interesting, considering he’s so adamant on hiding your Radiant. 

Each face of the Armory is familiar to you: the Parks, the Viboras, the Salibs, the Achilleos and the Kims. This man belongs to none of them and yet he has an appointment with Jimin, who is one of the highest running members of the Yong organization.

The respect that Jimin shows the tangerine thief leads to a few possibilities of who he could be. Under the rule of the Armory, there are other smaller and less organized gangs. Circles are not particularly powerful and still concede to the Armory, but they range from loose bands of idiots and thieves to highly organized factions. There are dozens of Circles in the city, but only a few are powerful enough to earn respect, especially from Jimin.

Chewing your lip, your mind runs through a list of possible Circles this man could rank high enough in to matter. White Fang has always worked with the Yong’s well. Their members can sometimes be found hanging out in the Jade Dragon with tight, if not overly polite smiles while they conduct business. While White Fang answers to all of the families of the Armory as is law, they are particularly fond of the Park family. 

But no, you’ve never seen him with White Fang, so it can’t be them.

There is little chance that the tangerine thief belongs to the Midnight Sun. As the largest and most powerful Circle, they are only allied to the Kim family. Though it’s technically illegal for any Circle to declare allyship to only a single governing body, the Kim family sits at the top of the food chain, and being protected by Juwon and his son Seokjin have its strengths.  

You shove the thought of Kim Seokjin away violently.

“Of course.” Agust finally says, eyes flickering from Jimin to you, dark and knowing. “Just give me a call whenever. I’m eager to do business with the Yong organization.” 

Turning to leave, you watch Agust with predatory stillness. You still can’t get a read on him for where he belongs on the Jewel Caste and that doesn’t sit well with you. He opens the door and exits, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a wink like before and then he’s gone.

For some reason, Len’s warning from earlier comes back to you: The world will end in midnight and obsidian.

THE JEWEL CASTE

*IN ORDER FROM TOP TO BOTTOM THEN LEFT TO RIGHT OF POWER.

Lights

Opal → Selenite → Diamond Rose Quartz → Morganite → Kunzite

Mids

Jade → Peridot → Flourite Jasper → Spinel →Ruby

Darks

Turquoise → Azurite → SapphireTourmaline → Jet → Onyx

Corrosives

Emerald→Garnet →Midnight →Obsidian

TAG LIST: @astroodledream @myynameisbuckyy @idkjustlovingbts @hobibbb @codeinebelle @rinkud @wobblewobble822 @itsjaneeettt @veronawrites @agustamygdala7 @itsmina29

PLEASE DOUBLE CHECK YOU HAVE YOUR TAGGING ON. MOST OF YOU DO NOT HAVE TAGS TURNED ON AND I CANNOT TAG YOU. IF YOUR TAG IS NOT HERE, IT'S BECAUSE YOUR TAG DID NOT WORK.

[buriedinleather]

‘ beg your pardon? i didn't catch that.’ ( hi ghost ur Spanish sucks try again )

Ray may have lured Ghost into his life with Spanish lessons, but that smug look absolutely makes him want to smack the shit out of this bastard. "I wanna wipe that look off your face you - you - burro de merda." And, sure, Ghost doesn't have friends or associations outside of work. And, sure, Ray isn't a friend but he does somehow always end up bothering the shit out of him any time he gets a chance to go to his apartment.

"Quiero comida ahora." This time he at least sounds a little less like a British asshole. "Learned the insult just for you-" He frowns underneath the mask when he sees Ray rifling through his bookshelf. "I swear to whatever Gods you worship, Ray, I will bend you over my knee and spank you like the bloody brat you are if you touch any more of my shit."

Ghost grabs a newspaper, rolls it at lighting speed, and with an accuracy that could only be described as comically frightening aims and fires at Ray's head.

[angelicasimonephotography]

[beetlewine-art]

At this point i just believe that the Roceit dynamic after svsRedux would be like the relationship between La Muerte/la Catrina and Xibalba from the book of Life. This two:

Like, so many lines they had in the movie fit perfectly with Roceit:

Virgil: i want my life back.

Roman: *looks at Janus* is only fair.

Janus: meh *turns away*

Roman: *hugging his arm and in a sweet voice* please Jani~

The other sides: Jani???

Janus: nop. Never.

Roman: *angry* You better do this.

Janus: nop.

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

Patton: i know about the bet, Janus cheated

Roman: He did WHAT?.

Logan: Yes, like the two-headed snake he is!

Roman: *visebly angry*

Virgil: You may wanna cover your ears right now.

Roman: *screeming* DE-CE-IIIIT!

Janus: *shows up with two glass cups and a boottle of wine* yes~ my love? *Sees the others* oh oh.

Roman: REPUGNANTE HIJO DE BURRO LEPROSO! you cheated! Again!

Janus: i would never do such thing!

Roman: *grabs a two-headed snake staff from behind his back*

Janus: o-oh, that! It has a mind of it's own... Or two.

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

Janus: please my dear, trade tasks with me, i beg you!

Roman: awww, you are so cute when you beg.

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

Janus: uh well, i believe you've won the waiger my love, along with my heart, all over again.

Roman: awww, Jani.

Janus: i am so sorry, my love, you deserve better than me. I know that now, will you ever forgive me? *Kisses Roman's hand*

Roman: i do *kisses him*

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

I could give more examples, but i think they fit perfectly.

Tag list: @emobeanwhoneedssleep @maze-arts @meowthefluffy @roman-can-gay @dorkyduckling16

[murcielagatito]

gloria says so much mean hurtful shit to maria because shes pissed and yet maria kept going back kept seeking forgiveness kept apologizing and gloria wasnt fucking having it not until maria helped her stay out of trouble did gloria realize that maybe she was being a bit too harsh maria begs gloria to take proper blame for her fuck up and gloria OWNS UP TO HER SHIT and then the book the fucking burro book she saves maria from extra time (to which she had previously doomed maria full cirlce moment) and then after all that still thinks of maria still sends her the book because she knows exactly what its like having to watch your kids grow up and not being able to be there for them the way you wish you could be anyways goodnight *passes away*

the way gloria y maria were obsessed with eachother seasons six and seven drives me kinda bonkers bc like maria is out here tryna apologize incessantly so that it pulls her towards gloria who on the other hand is obsessed with wrecking marias shit to hell and back going as far as succeeding in jumping marias ass the second they were in the same room together again in this essay i will-

[rabbitcruiser]

Feast of the Ass Day

The Feast of the Ass on January 14 began as a medieval Christian feast, and commemorates the Israelites’ flight into Egypt. It was predominantly observed in France as a variant of the Feast of Fools, which commemorated biblical donkey-related narratives, particularly the donkey that carried the Holy Family into Egypt following Jesus’ birth.

History of Feast of the Ass Day

This feast may be a Christian adaptation of the pagan feast, Cervulus, and incorporating the Nativity story’s donkey. It was first held in the 1000s and celebrated various Bible stories. Additionally, it had a pseudo-Augustinian influence credited to the ‘Sermo contra Judaeos.’

After the Catholic Church publicly condemned the celebration in the second half of the 15th century, it became less popular. The Feast of Fools was also condemned during this period. Both feasts were thought to be improper, albeit the Feast of Fools was regarded as such far more than the Feast of the Ass.

The Feast of the Ass honors all of the Bible’s donkeys, particularly the one thought to have transported Jesus and his family to Egypt following his birth. The family was escaping Herod the Great’s assassination of young boys at the time. The donkey that Jesus rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday is another biblical account of a donkey. A donkey is also said to have been present in the manger where Jesus was born.

A girl would ride a donkey through a town to a church on the day. As she rode through the streets, people would sing a song about her carrying a baby or being pregnant herself. Once the donkey reached the church, it was given food and water and stood near the altar for the service. The crowd would bray back to the priest, and the priest would occasionally bray as well. The Feast of the Ass was especially rowdy in the city of Beauvais in northern France.

Feast of the Ass Day timeline

4600–4000 B.C. The First Record of Domesticated Donkeys

In Egypt, donkeys are domesticated for the first time.

1000s The First Feast of the Ass Day

The first Feast of the Ass celebration is held.

1450s The Observance is Banned

The Feast of the Ass and the Feast of Fools’ celebrations cease because the Catholic Church denounces them.

1929 Miniature Donkeys Enter the United States

Miniature donkeys make their first appearance in the United States.

Feast of the Ass Day FAQs

What kind of donkey did Jesus ride?

A Nubian donkey. The Nubian donkey wears a cross on its back because it is believed that on Palm Sunday, this breed of donkeys brought Jesus to Jerusalem.

What does a donkey signify spiritually?

In ancient cultures, donkeys had a special symbolic and spiritual importance. Nevertheless, their link with Christ in the New Testament has led to them being viewed as a symbol of human suffering and our salvation hopes.

What characteristics do donkeys possess?

Donkeys, unlike horses, are not easily scared and have a great sense of curiosity. Donkeys are known for their defiance, however, this stems from their highly advanced sense of self-preservation.

How to Celebrate Feast of the Ass Day

Ride a donkey

Read up on the holiday’s history

Play donkey-themed games

On the off chance that you own one, why not take a ride to celebrate Feast of the Ass Day. Alternatively, you can visit the zoo to see one in the flesh.

Grab a Bible and learn about the story for yourself. Read the “Flight to Egypt” and surprise your friends with all the new information you’ve learned.

There’s no reason you can’t have fun while celebrating. You can host donkey-themed games, such as “Pin the Tail on the Donkey.”

5 Facts About Donkeys That Will Blow Your Mind

Few and then far between

Efficient beasts

Going the distance

Excellent vision

Powerful competition

Donkeys can significantly differ in size; they can be a mere 26-inches or as tall as 68-inches.

A donkey’s digestive system utilizes over 95% of what they consume.

In the desert, a donkey's bray carries about 60 miles.

Donkeys have the ability to see all four of their feet at once.

A donkey is more powerful than a horse of similar size.

Why We Love Feast of the Ass Day

We learn more about them

We’re animal lovers

Moving in high company

We get to learn more about donkeys and the role they played in popular Bible stories. Donkeys have an interesting history and we use this holiday to appreciate their versatility.

We love animals of all kinds. They make the world a more beautiful place to live in.

Donkeys were the transport mode of choice for the Messiah. That has to count for something, right?

Source

[biographydivider]

Ever since I saw @glitternightingale's amazing Milk Day comic (and connected it to my own fic where Bruno lightly confuses a cow and a horse), I couldn't stop thinking that he just...doesn't know animals very well. And because my headphones died on the way to work, I wrote this on my commute today.

In the world of Bruno Madrigal, there were only two types of animal: Rats, and Not-Rats.

This affliction wasn't a result of him being in the walls for years with only rodents for company; sadly, it was something he'd lived with his whole life. Once, when he was about six, he'd begged and begged his mother to let him adopt 'the puppy' that had just been born on Señor Roja's farm.

It was a goat.

"Alright, alright Tio," Camilo sighed, holding up another of Antonio's animal friends. "What's this?"

Bruno pursed his lips, deep in thought. "Baby snake."

"It's a gecko, but that was close." Camilo let the lizard go and sat back on his haunches, tapping his lip. Bruno's sobrino had become midly obsessed with his 'animal blindness' ever since he found out Bruno once tried to milk a burro. A male burro.

"Okay, okay; I got one. Name five animals that live in...water. Any type of water - sea, rivers, whatever. Go!"

"Milo...."

"Do it or I tell Mami that you stole the last of her fancy eye cream!"

"Okay, okay! Jeez." Bruno ran his hands through his hair, steadying himself with an exhale. He could do this. It was easy. Right?

"So. I-in the water. There...are...frogs. And fish. Big fish...a-and small fish...and...regular fish."

He nodded, satisfied with his answer. Camilo groaned, tugging on his hair.

"Ay, Dios mio."

"Tio Bruno?"

Luisa tapped on his door, peeking in shyly. "Tio, I don't wanna interrupt, but I thought you might wanna know, well, your present's here."

"Ooh!"

It had been the triplets' birthday the week before, and Luisa had been devastated that her present for her Tio - whatever it was - hadn't arrived on time. Bruno hugged her tight and told her it didn't matter, it'd arrive when it arrived; but he'd been waiting with baited breath for days now, all the same. Even at fifty-one, he still loved presents. Who didn't?

"Can I see?"

"Okay....so I really hoped she'd be here by last weekend," Luisa babbled, producing a small, wooden box from behind her back, "but the man in Bogotá said she needed more time to be weaned, and..."

"She?"

Bruno took the wooden box from his sobrina - noticing it was dotted with tiny holes and seemed to be squeaking - set it down on his bed, and slid open the lid. There, nestled in pile of shredded newspaper, was a tiny, caramel-coloured rat; only just old enough to be away from her mother. She blinked, looking up at Bruno with sleepy eyes, and his heart was lost.

"Ohhhhh," Bruno breathed, slowly holding out his hand for the rat to sniff. "Hiii, cariño..."

The rat stirred; blinked again, and snuffled at Bruno's fingers. Her tiny, dainty whiskers tickled his hand, and he grinned. "You're so cute, aren'tcha?"

"'s a mouse," said Camilo, leaning over his tio's shoulder to peek into the box.

"No!" Luisa protested, puffing herself up even taller than she was normally. "She's not a mouse! I made sure! The man in Bogotá promised me! He said she's a --"

"She's a Satin Coat," Bruno murmured, almost to himself, gently stroking along the rat's back with one finger. "See how straight her whiskers are, with the lil' curls at the end? That's how you can tell. And that she's so shiny. You're so shiny, aren'tcha cariño? I think she's a...she's not a Topaz coat, I think she's Fawn. Is that right, Luisa?"

Luisa and Camilo gaped at their tio. "I..." Luisa stammered. "I-I think so. I've got her paperwork in my room?"

"Oh, I'd like to see it, very much." Bruno scooped up the baby rat and placed her in his flattened hand, never taking his eyes away from her. "Thank you, mi vida. She's perfect, I love her already. O-oh, I have a spare nest over here somewhere, she can stay there 'til she gets used to things...you've got lotsa brothers and sisters, mija, but we'll introduce you later, yes we will..."

"I knew you'd like her," Luisa beamed. "We'll leave you to get her settled in."

"She's the best present ever! Thank you, again!"

"Guy can't remember snakes don't have legs but he knows about Rat Colours an' crap?!" Camilo protested, as his prima ushered him out of the room, closing the door on the happy sounds of squeaking.

(And by the way, her name is Sweetie)

[whywishesarehorses]

“My Wild Mustang Story - Elissa & Chico”

"My name is Elissa Dodson and I have had the joy of working with our mustang Chico for almost 18 years. Chico was originally adopted by my husband and his parents shortly before we met. While attending an auction in Carthage, MO they met this scrawny gray yearling from Wyoming who was such a food hound that, while the other horses crowded in a far corner, he spent the entire day with his head stuck through the bars begging for hand outs and scratches. Some things never change. That little boy came home with them, was christened Chico, and is still on the constant lookout for food and attention.

"I grew up as your average horse crazy girl, reading Marguerite Henry books and learning to ride on our backyard horses. While attending Missouri State University, and increasing my horse obsession by getting an Equine Studies minor and competing on the equestrian team, I met my future husband and was soon driving out to his family farm to go riding. The first clue my parents had that things were getting serious was when they began to hear an awful lot about one cute little mustang named Chico... who happened to be owned by this guy named Clay. At this point Chico was halter trained and ready to officially begin his saddle training. I had just completed a course on horse training and was eager to continue growing my skills in that area, so Clay and his parents very kindly let me take over Chico's education. I'm pretty sure that horse has taught me more than I could ever teach him, and very patiently dealt with me learning the ropes alongside him.

"It wasn't long before we were riding around the farm, and then trail riding with the other horses. Chico was right there when Clay proposed to me while out on a ride together, and since then has helped teach all six of our children to ride. He has grown from being a scrawny little yearling to a beautiful big gelding that has been referred to as a “Spanish warmblood” at a local horse show. He earned me my first blue ribbon, has carried me on miles and miles of trails, including horse camping trips into the nearby Ozark wilderness areas, and has helped me teach many hours of riding lessons to kids of all ages. He loves to jump, has quickly picked up basic dressage maneuvers, patiently carries packs and is a great lead horse for when I pack other horses behind him. He has a distinct dislike for curious black and white dairy cows who like to follow too close behind him, wants to splash and play in every puddle he comes across, and generally has a personality that is so big it pours out of him in every situation. No ride would feel complete without his complaining groaning as he carries me down the trail.

"Chico was influential in developing my love of mustangs. Since working with him we have adopted five other mustangs and one burro. Out of all the horses I have worked with over the years, I love that our mustangs have all been the most curious, intelligent and quick to learn. They are hardy, willing to please, share our love for exploring new places and each have their own unique and hilarious personalities."

---

This My Wild Horse Story story was submitted by Elissa Dodson to the BLM Tales From the Trails project

[introvertguide]

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948); AFI #38

The next Huston and Bogart collaboration that we reviewed was the infamous tale of greed and betrayal, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948). It was a film that was two decades in the making due to a world war, varying contractual obligations, and poor conditions due to location filming. It is debated that this was Bogart's best performance since it was a step away from the roles that had made him famous, but it did not earn him an Oscar nomination. The film did get four nominations and ended up winning Best Writing and Best Directing for John Huston as well as Best Supporting Actor for Walter Huston, John's dad. This was the only time that a father-son combo won Oscars for a film together. There are a lot of interesting firsts involved with this film, but I want to spoil it first for anyone who hasn't seen it. By the way...

SPOILER WARNING!!! THIS IS AN ANALYSIS, SO I AM GOING TO SPOIL EVERYTHING ABOUT THE MOVIE AND THEN EVERYTHING ABOUT THE PRODUCTION!!! IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE FILM COLD AND GET THE FULL EXPERIENCE, WATCH IT FIRST BEFORE READING ANY FURTHER!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

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

In 1925, in the Mexican town of Tampico, Fred C. Dobbs (Humphrey Bogart) is wandering around and begging for change. He keeps asking the same man in white (John Huston) for money until the man tells him no more handouts. Dobbs continues to beg and runs into another vagrant named Bob Curtin (Tim Holt). The two seem to have an understanding, but money is tight and they separate to look for job leads. Dobbs finds a man in an alley named Pat McCormick (Barton MacLane) and the latter asks the former if he wants a job. Dobbs agrees and goes to a raft and finds Curtin will also be working on this job. They are working as roughnecks to help construct oil rigs for $8 a day. When the project is completed and they return to Tampico, McCormick skips out without paying the men.

The two vagrants encounter an old man named Howard (Walter Huston) in a flophouse. The loquacious and penniless ex-miner talks to them about gold prospecting and the perils of striking it rich. Dobbs and Curtin run into McCormick at a cantina, and after a bar fight, collect their back wages. When Dobbs hits a small jackpot in the lottery, he, Curtin and Howard have enough money to buy the supplies they need to go prospecting in the interior.

Departing Tampico by train, the three help to repulse a bandit attack led by "Gold Hat" (Alfonso Bedoya). North of Durango, the trio head into the remote Sierra Madre mountains. Howard proves to be the hardiest and most knowledgeable of the three. After several days of arduous travel, Howard spots gold that the others had passed by.

The men toil under harsh conditions and amass a fortune in placer gold. But as the gold piles up, Dobbs becomes increasingly distrustful of the other two. The men agree to divide the gold dust immediately and hide their shares. At one point, Curtin sees a Gila monster crawl under a rock and it turns out that this was where Dobbs had hid his share. Curtin warns Dobbs, but Dobbs just assumes that Curtin is trying to steal another share of the gold. It is apparent that Dobbs is being driven insane by the greed for gold, just as Howard had predicted.

Curtin, while on a resupply trip to Durango, is spotted making purchases by a Texan named Cody (Bruce Bennett). Cody secretly follows Curtain back to the encampment. When he confronts the three men, they lie about what they are doing there, but he is not fooled. He boldly proposes to join their outfit and share in any future takings. Howard, Curtin and Dobbs talk it over and vote to kill him. As they announce their verdict, pistols in hand, Gold Hat and his bandits arrive. They claim to be Federales. After a tense parley, a gunfight ensues, and Cody is killed. A genuine troop of Federales suddenly appears and pursues Gold Hat and his gang. The three prospectors examine Cody's personal effects. A letter from a loving wife reveals that he was trying to provide for his family.

Howard is called away to assist local villagers with a seriously ill little boy. When the boy recovers, the next day, the villagers insist that Howard return with them to be honored. Howard leaves his goods with Dobbs and Curtin and says he will meet them later. Dobbs and Curtin constantly argue, until one night Dobbs shoots Curtin and takes all the gold. However, Curtin is not dead; he manages to crawl away and hide during the night.

Finding Curtin gone, Dobbs flees, but is ambushed at a waterhole by Gold Hat and his men. They first toy with him, then kill him (it is implied that Dobbs is beheaded with a machete). The bandits mistake the bags of gold dust for sand and dump the treasure, taking only the burros and supplies. The gold is scattered by the strong wind. Meanwhile, Curtin is discovered by indios and taken to Howard's village, where he recovers.

Gold Hat's gang tries to sell the stolen burros in town, but a child recognizes the brands on them (and Dobbs' clothes, which the bandits are wearing) and reports them to the authorities. The bandits are captured and summarily executed by the Federales.

Howard and Curtin return to Durango in a dust storm and reclaim their pack animals, only to find the empty bags. At first shaken by the loss, first Howard, then Curtin, grasp the immense irony of their circumstances, and they burst into laughter. Howard decides to return to the village to accept an offer of a permanent home and a position of honor, while Curtin sells their recovered property to return to the United States, where he will seek out Cody's widow. As Curtin leaves, the camera pans down to a cactus as he rides past. Lying next to it is a bag of gold, still full.

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This film was a major change of pace for Bogart, making it very difficult to advertise. An actor who is generally the hero turns out to be a villain that shoots his partner and then is unceremoniously beheaded by a bandit is not what audiences expected or even wanted. Using Bogart's star power and reputation for being a good guy romantic lead to attract audiences and then doing his character dirty like he was done is the 40s version of clickbait. And yet the film was moderately successful with audiences and earned four Academy Award nominations. Where this trick to the audience is apparent is the lack of even a nomination for Bogart despite it being one of his finest acting roles.

I watched the movie a couple of times over the last few days and that included commentary from the guy who wrote the biography of Bogart, a Mr. Eric Lax. It was extremely informative and was actually very different from the IMDB trivia page. I am going to trust the official biographer on this one, so some of the following information that is presented as fact is second hand from the movie commentary.

There were two father-son teams on the set of this particular film. The first is was of course the director, John Huston, and his father who played the part of Howard, Walter Huston. The other was actually the other nice guy, Curtin, who was played by Tim Holt, and the old man who warned the two that Pat McCormick was lying to them, played by Jack Holt. John Huston was actually in the film playing the American in the white suit, which made this film the only one with two father-son duos with speaking roles in a single film.

The Huston family has a couple of other notable film accomplishments. John Huston directed his father to an Academy Award and also directed his daughter, Angelica Huston, to a Best Supporting Actress award in Prizzi's Honor (1985). On both occasions, the elder Huston in the film died very soon after working with their child. Walter died a year after his role in Sierra Madre and John died less then two years after Prizzi's Honor. I felt a little sad about that at first, but then it is nice that a parent can work with their child doing what they do best at the end of their life.

Apparently the filming was very difficult and took its toll on the actors and crew. There was a joke about the old man, Howard, being a tough old goat, and that comes from the local crew outpacing the location scouts when Huston first went down to Mexico to look for places to film. The filming took place during the rainy season so there were many delays. The irony was that there was lots of gusting wind except on the day that they needed it and there was lots of rain and flooding except on the day when Dobbs finds the little collection of water.

A rather silly note (or at least I thought so) was that one of the big pushes to get the film done was that Humphrey Bogart wanted to participate in a boat race. He had his boat, the Santana, that he had been practicing with around Catalina when pre-production was halted due to John Huston joining the military during WW2. Bogart wanted to take part in the Honolulu Yacht Race in which he had participated in the past. Bogart's wife, Lauren Bacall, said that the yacht was the only thing that she ever felt jealous of. The constant complaining by Bogart about the time caused one of the only fights he had with John Huston. The director purportedly grabbed Bogart by the nose and twisted until Bogart shut up. It was not brought up again and Bogart missed his race.

One actor that made a surprising cameo in the film was the little boy that sold Dobbs the winning lottery ticket. The part was played by a very young Robert Blake (freaking Beretta) who was a child film star. He had played the role of Mickey in Our Gang short films for almost a decade by the time he was in Sierra Madre. I was surprised to also find out that Blake had almost 80 acting credits before his small part in this film. By the way, he does not have a Mexican accent. Sadly, I think that Blake is now most famous for being accused of hiring somebody to kill his wife. Not a great legacy.

My family commented on the look of Bogart and how weirdly greasy his hair looked. His hair looked pretty weird throughout the film, as a matter of fact. According to Eric Lax, Bogart was taking hormone shots in an attempt to get Bacall pregnant and had lost a lot of his hair. All of those funny looking haircuts were toupees. The one used when Dobbs got a haircut was most notable, especially since you can since Bogart's actual hair at the back.

A final fun fact was the death of Dobbs being a strangely cut machete strike that was hidden by the backside of a donkey was not the original depiction. There was an actual fake head rolling down to the water that was cut out of the film. Bogart famously kept the head and was very disappointed when the scene was cut out of the film. That would have been pretty gory for the time, but Huston knew it would not get past the sensors and he wanted the film to get distributed. Oh well.

So does the film belong on the AFI 100? Of course. For similar reasons as The Maltese Falcon. This was one of the best works produced by one of the best director/writer and lead actor combos of all time. It is an amazing story that doesn't end how one would expect from a movie of the time. It is classic and innovative at the same time. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. It is a fine film that tells the story of what greed can do to an otherwise good person. It is also very clean to the point that I would recommend it to any age group.

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Mooching burros try their luck with the passengers in a 1960 Chevy at Custer State Park in the Black Hills of South Dakota, seen in an undated postcard view presumably from the early 1960s.  Image from hippostcard.com

Special Friends: Custer State Park’s Begging Burros Beckon You Back, Slobber and All