#used cars in san maria

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: No matter what Bradley did, you seemed frustrated with him. You needed a new car, but you needed to start communicating with him even more. He was scrambling to try to fix everything, but it was hard when you could barely stay awake for a conversation.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, pregnancy topics, angst

Length: 5900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

When nearly a week had gone by, and you still wouldn't focus on picking out a new car for yourself, Bradley was starting to get frustrated. Sharing the Bronco with you wasn't a big deal. You respected it and treated it well, but he had to play nice when you wanted to use it to go to brunch on Sunday with Cam and Maria at the same time he wanted to play golf.

"Can't Jake pick you up?" you asked him with an annoyed sigh. "I'll text him and ask if he can come get you."

"Why can't Cam or Maria pick you up?" he asked, feeling kind of fucking fed up with you at the moment. 

"Fine," you replied, an eerily calm expression taking over your face. "I'll have one of them pick me up for brunch in the morning. Don't worry about it."

You turned on your heel and walked back to the bedroom leaving Bradley raking his fingers through his hair. He had finally started to feel normal again after having your parents at the house for a few days. It's not like they were even loud or inconsiderate, but he just struggled a bit with it anyway. He wasn't used to closing the bedroom door knowing Tramp liked to wander around the house at all hours of the day and night. He liked to take a piss with the bathroom door open, and he liked to randomly reach up under your shirt when you were in the kitchen if you welcomed it. And he just couldn't do any of that with other people in the house, even though it was family. 

"Fuck," he mumbled. It wasn't even a big deal for you to take the Bronco to brunch. Jake or Javy could easily get him on their way to the golf course, and now he needed to go apologize to you. But the bedroom door was closed when he got there, and he immediately felt like he needed to be touching you, because you were literally the only person who could be in his personal space all day long and not usually annoy him in the slightest. 

When he turned the knob, he was relieved to find it wasn't locked. "Baby Girl?" he called out cautiously, and then he found you in the bathroom. "Shit," he whispered, watching you wipe your eyes before turning toward the mirror, but there was no way to hide from him in here. "I'm sorry."

"Could you just leave me alone?" you asked without looking at him.

The words caused him physical pain, because that was the last thing he wanted right now. He'd gotten used to how much better everything was recently, and he was absolutely unwilling to stop communicating with you. "Can we talk about it? About a car? We could buy one tomorrow if you pick one out."

You turned and snapped at him. "Maybe next time just don't fuck up the one I already have!"

He had apologized to you countless times. He'd given your shit car a eulogy. He had offered to buy you any car you found that you wanted, but now he was just as mad as you were. "I just wanted to tell you that you can use the Bronco tomorrow."

"How generous," you replied sarcastically. "But I already told you I'll get a ride from Cam or Maria. Now would you please leave me alone?"

Bradley nodded and retreated back to the living room couch with Tramp, because he didn't know what else to do. He stretched out and decided to look at cars until you resurfaced to make dinner. There were two huge dealerships in San Diego that had the current model year of your old car, and they both had them stocked in several colors with different options available. You could get a new red one with a sunroof and gray interior just like you had before. He'd upgrade the stereo package to make riding in it less painful for him, but he'd buy it right now if you said it's what you wanted. 

As he thought back to the way you dragged your feet about wedding planning, he muttered a string of obscenities. At this rate, he'd be sharing the Bronco with you for a long time. He bookmarked a bunch of new cars, and then he searched all over the country to see if anyone was selling an exact replica of the one he totaled. A few hours later, it occurred to him that you never came back out of the bedroom. He scooped up Tramp where he'd fallen asleep on his chest and carried him back down the hallway. 

You were sound asleep in bed, curled up on your side, breathing softly. Bradley checked the time again. It was only 7:15, but maybe you just needed to rest. He tucked the covers up around your shoulders and kissed your forehead before venturing back out to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich before working out.

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

By the middle of the week, you were aggressively annoyed by everything, but mostly Bradley's voice. On Sunday, Cam picked you up for brunch even though Bradley told you a million times you could use the Bronco. You didn't even want to use the Bronco. He could use it all day long. And then you went back to Cam's place and lounged on his couch until you were starting to get hungry for dinner. If Bradley wondered why you were out for a six hour brunch, he didn't ask. 

But when he eventually called your phone, you asked Cam to drive you home. "Your husband is like a twelve out of ten," he murmured as he drove you. "Don't be mean to him." Then you climbed out of his car onto your driveway and rolled your eyes, because after that he was getting on your nerves, too.

So on Monday and Tuesday, you just avoided Bradley as much as you could at work after driving in with him, but on Wednesday, as he pulled into the parking garage, he cleared his throat. "Hard Deck tonight?"

"You can go," you replied as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "You can take the Bronco, and I'll just stay home." You bit your lip immediately as you said the words, because you felt like crying. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you as tears burned your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was skip a fun night out. You also didn't know why you couldn't commit to a car. Everything felt like too much the last few days, and you wanted to scream.

"Can we talk about this?" Bradley asked, his voice pleading with you, but you didn't even know what to say. 

"Later," you told him before heading for the building, but he was right behind you, undeterred.

"Don't give me that later bullshit. We've been talking and communicating a lot better, and I absolutely refuse to stop doing either of those things!"

You spun around so fast, he almost collided with you. "I have a meeting with Bickel, okay? About Annapolis. And it starts in twenty minutes. And I'm tired. And I miss my car. And I need to go."

After that, you weren't sure if he followed you or not, because you didn't turn around to check. When you got to your office and opened your computer, you saw the calendar reminder that made more tears cloud your vision. You cradled your forehead in your hand. Saturday was Carole Bradshaw's birthday. 

The fact that you forgot it was coming up was worrying, because you couldn't let work take over your life again like it had in the past. You'd been mentally planning to make another fancy dinner to celebrate her day, the way you had for both of Bradley's parents' birthdays last year. Filet mignon and crab cakes and brownies. 

Fuck. You wanted to sit alone in your office and cry all morning, but now you had four minutes until you had to sit down with your boss. You pulled yourself together the best you could and made your way to talk to Bickel. Cat was there too, and you could feel her intense gaze on you as if she was physically touching you. You knew she could tell something was on your mind, but you sat as calmly as you could and looked through the folder of information that was given to you. 

Bickel folded his hands on his desk and said, "I'm letting the two of you decide how you'd like to present our work in Annapolis. I'm trying to finalize some dates for us, but it's looking like the first week of August. This would add two million dollars to our pending budget for next year, which would give us the opportunity to explore an even more advanced comms system. And it would be a great way for me to push for your promotion, Lieutenant Coleman."

"Yes, Sir," Cat replied immediately. When you were both dismissed, she took you by the arm out in the hallway and whispered, "Please, I need you to focus on this for me. Okay? Why do you look like you're on the verge of tears?"

"I'm having a bad week," you whispered, still unsure why you felt like this. Your fingers were tingling, and you were so anxious, you were about to walk yourself to see Dr. Genevieve. But you hadn't eaten breakfast, and it was almost lunchtime now after Bickel kept you so long. "I need lunch," you told Cat, and she sighed and walked down to the cafeteria with you.

Part of you wanted to see Bradley, but part of you did not. And something about the idea of a burrito bowl was turning your stomach just looking at it. You picked out a sandwich and some soup and found a spot at a table that was completely empty except for Bob. 

"Hi," you said softly, and he looked up from his notebook with a smile as you slid into the seat across from him. 

"Hi," he replied in his sweet voice that immediately made you feel calmer. "I actually was hoping to see you to thank you again. Maria has been really accommodating about me moving in, and this way I don't have to commute into the city every day."

You waved him off as you tried a spoonful of the flavorless soup. "I'm just happy it worked out. For both of you. I didn't want Maria to have some creep move in since she couldn't find anyone else. And obviously you're just lovely, Bob."

He visibly bristled a bit. "No, she shouldn't have to deal with a creepy roommate."

Then Jake dropped down in the seat next to yours and turned to smile as Cat sat on his other side. "Angel. What the hell are you doing to Rooster now?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, looking around, but your husband and Nat were still in line for food. 

"He's fucking miserable today. Cranky as hell. And I know for a fact nothing can set that man off the way you can. It's honestly pretty funny, but he did snap at me three times. It's like dealing with Hondo all over again."

"Sorry," you heard Cat mutter as she ate her lunch.

You gripped your spoon in your hand and took a deep breath, but all you could say was, "I don't know." You truly didn't know what was going on. Your brain was in a constant fog, and you felt so antsy. 

Bradley sat across the table from you, eyeing you carefully from his spot next to Bob. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but you didn't know if it came across that way when he just looked sadder. 

"Who's coming to the bar tonight?" Nat asked loudly.

After Jake and Cat agreed to go, you quietly said, "Not me. I have to catch up on some things I was supposed to read, but I'll drop Bradley off for the night."

Your husband shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but Nat was already squeezing his shoulder. "Sounds good," she said, and after that, he sat quietly. 

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

Bradley flew all afternoon, and it was bad. Just really, very bad. He was distracted, and the fact that Javy had to keep repeating himself was about to earn Bradley a lecture from Maverick if he didn't pull it together. But you were just making him so sad, and he had no idea why you were currently barely able to look at him without crying or yelling. 

He hadn't even done anything. Had he? Yeah, he'd completely destroyed your beloved car, but the visit with your parents had gone pretty well. He hadn't missed any important dates of anniversaries. He'd been keeping up with his chores at home. 

You'd been running a bit hot and cold in the bedroom. He'd never push you for more than you wanted to do, but then perhaps he hadn't been good for you recently? The mere thought had him squirming and sweating in his cockpit as he followed Javy into a dive. Shit. Could that be it? He always got you off. Except that he knew he hadn't in the family bathroom at the Padres game, but you and he had been in a rush. And that night last week when you started yawning while you rode him, he distinctly remembered you saying it didn't matter if you came since you were so tired.

Shit. Things had been going great, he didn't realize what he'd been doing, and now he had to figure out how to fix it when you seemed so disinterested in talking to him. As he brought his jet back down to the tarmac he tried to come up with a plan, but he felt helpless. These were the times he felt like having a mother of his own would come in handy, because he couldn't exactly take this to your mom. 

"Fuck." He wrenched his helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair. You were sending him off to the bar alone tonight to get him out of your space, he could tell. So maybe the best thing he could do right now was just follow your lead. 

After he showered and headed for the parking garage, he found you leaning against the side of the Bronco waiting for him. "Hi, Sweetheart," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly.

Your quiet response of, "Hi, Roo," made him feel a lot better, and you let him buckle you in, which was great. But then you said, "I'll just drop you off at the bar later and come back for you. I have some things I want to get done."

He nodded. "Sure. Whatever you want." 

Back at home, he was able to coax you onto his lap for dinner at the dining room table, and even though it was a quiet affair, he didn't mind. He just rubbed his hand up and down your back, and eventually you sank back against him even though you'd only had a few bites of food. You were practically asleep on him as he finished eating, but you jolted up when his phone vibrated against your hip.

"It's probably just Nat," he whispered, and you nodded as you checked the time. 

"I'll drop you off whenever you're ready, and I'll come back for you around ten?"

He cupped your perfect cheek in one hand and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come? I can help you get caught up with work tomorrow or this weekend. I'm a pretty good helper."

You cracked the tiniest smile as you said, "I'm just not in the mood. You go and drink and have fun, and I'll come back for you."

He kissed your cheek. "I'll be waiting, ready to come home with you whenever you get there."

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

When Bradley climbed out of the Bronco, you watched him head inside the bar. He was wearing his white and yellow floral print shirt, part of the matching set that he'd bought for the two of you, and he looked so sexy, you were thrumming with need. You were all over the place. A few days ago, the mere sight of him had you ready to climb out the window, and now you were on the verge of chasing him down to fuck you.

"Get a grip. My god," you moaned as you pulled back onto the road. At least now you could go to the store and purchase everything you'd need to make Carole's birthday dinner in peace. 

The store was quiet, which was great, because you didn't currently know if something was about to set you off. You grabbed a cart, and the cool metal against your hands felt nice. A smile found its way to your face as you listened to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac playing throughout the store and picked out some beautiful looking steaks. Then you found everything for the crab cakes and the brownies, and you got a bottle of expensive champagne. 

You were already feeling better now, almost excited to celebrate the mother-in-law that you'd never had the privilege of meeting. She deserved a special day and a fancy dinner, because even though you didn't know her personally, you were absolutely certain Carole Bradshaw was incredible. The sparkle of your engagement ring caught your eye, and you stood in front of the wine and champagne and sobbed quietly until you felt like you could continue shopping. 

It had to be the combination of work and her birthday and your car that was setting you off. No matter how bad it made you feel, you'd pick out a new car this weekend. You knew there was enough in your savings account for a down payment, so you just had to force yourself to bite the bullet. You'd do it for Bradley and for yourself. 

While you unpacked the groceries, you made a sandwich, finally hungry again after you'd barely been able to eat dinner. But that started to make you too full after just half of it. "Don't tell Daddy," you whispered before feeding it to Tramp. 

Then you sat at the island and read through the folder from Bickel. You had weeks of research and planning ahead of you, but it would be worth it for the grant money. Cat was a solid gold choice as a partner for this, especially since she was motivated by that promotion she wanted. You were excited, but realistically so. You needed to make sure you didn't overdo things this time around. You could rely on Cat as much as yourself, and you knew that now.

When you checked the time on your phone, it was already 10:30. You texted Bradley and let him know you'd be there soon. When you started the Bronco, you got a text back.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Can't wait for you to take me home.

You smiled and sang on your way there, already feeling better about having everything for Carole's birthday dinner ready to go. You parked the Bronco and headed inside, twirling Bradley's keyring on your fingers. As soon as you pushed the door open, the wave of noise hit you, and you made a beeline for the pool table. Penny's summer drink specials must have been on point, because the place was packed.

Just when you were trying to squeeze between two massive guys, you caught sight of Bradley just in time to see a woman walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. Maybe he thought it was you at first, because he spun to face her with a smile on his face. You got jostled around a little bit as your steps faltered and came to a stop. Bradley was conversing a bit with her now, although his smile was gone, and you watched as she reached up with her perfectly manicured nails and dragged them along his paper airplane tattoo on his bicep.

"Oh, hell no," you gasped, registering that Bradley looked surprised, and not in a good way. But you were frozen to the spot now as disgust, embarrassment and jealousy washed over you. It wasn't like he wasn't wearing his wedding band. He was. How was that not enough? You couldn't decide if you wanted to run away or rip her head off.

Bradley immediately started to back away from her, shaking his head as he went, and then his gaze connected with yours. He mouthed your name, and you could see the concern on his face as you swallowed hard. Instead of running away, you stood there like an idiot when he came rushing in your direction.

"Sweetheart," he said, reaching for your hand, his eyes on yours. 

"Who's your friend?" you asked. Your voice sounded like it belonged to someone else while your throat burned. 

You let him wrap one big hand around your back and pull you closer, holding you there. "No idea. Never saw her before thirty seconds ago."

"I didn't like her touching you."

His eyebrow quirked up as his hand dipped a little lower. "Neither did I. Especially since I got the tattoo for you, Baby Girl."

You had your arms around his neck instantly, the other woman forgotten as you kissed your husband. He tasted like your favorite beer, and you whimpered. But your body felt somehow both too tender and too needy pressed up against him as you said, "It's for me. Mine. Let's go home."

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

Bradley let you drive since he'd had a fair amount to drink. That fucking woman just about ruined his night by asking him what he was drinking and then touching his arm, feigning interest in his unique tattoo. The past week had already felt like touch and go with you, and he was unwilling to make it worse. He still wasn't quite sure how to get things back to where they had been just a short time ago. 

When you parked in the driveway in the spot where you used to park your car, he almost winced. But you crawled over to his lap and started to unbutton his shirt. "Take me to bed," you told him, rubbing yourself on him through his jeans. 

He grunted in response, carrying you up to the porch and wrestling with his key in the lock as you kissed his neck. Clothing was discarded along the way, and when he got you in the bedroom with the soft lamplight illuminating your skin, he moaned. 

"Jesus Christ, you're a dream."

Truly, your tits had never looked better, and somehow the aroused looking little scowl you were shooting his way was really working him up as you shimmied your jeans down your legs. He was hard when you finally pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top. 

"I love you," he promised as your lips met his, and you sank down around his length. Warm and wet and perfect. Holy shit, you felt incredible as you rolled your hips slowly, his hands settling at your waist. You were velvety smooth everywhere. The only thing he wanted. 

He held your hips in his hands and thrust up into you as his lips met your nipple. You moaned as he licked you, but as soon as he sucked hard, pulling you between his lips, you gasped. So he did it again and again, but your hips stilled and your hands left his shoulders and reached for his cheeks.

"It hurts," you gasped, pushing his face away from your chest. "Stop."

He let his head settle back on the pillow. "Sorry." Tentatively, he brought his hand up to your left breast and gave you a nice squeeze, but you pulled away further. Then you were kneeling next to him with your arms crossed over your chest. "Sorry," he repeated. "But I always touch you that way?"

You burst into tears and said, "It just hurts."

And that was the last thing you said to him for the night as you crawled under the covers. As soon as Bradley got his erection under control by pacing around the bathroom, he walked back to the bed to find you sound asleep.

On Thursday and Friday, you didn't even acknowledge it. When he asked if it was okay if he touched you on Thursday morning, you went willingly into his arms as the toaster popped out your breakfast. And on Friday morning, you let him snuggle with you a little bit before you got out of bed, so at least he was fairly convinced you weren't too mad at him. But he just knew he hadn't been doing enough for you in bed which really pissed him off. 

He was older than everyone else around him seemingly all the time, and now he was feeling insecure about it again. If he could just manage to get you to have a real conversation with him, then he'd try to fix this. But you were busy with work, something else that had a red flag shooting up in the back of his mind. No, he was not going to fuck this all up yet again. You and he had something special, and he was going to demand a conversation. 

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

You poked at your lunch on Friday as Jake and Bradley argued next to you in the cafeteria. You were barely able to pay attention to them, because you were so tired, and you had another meeting with Bickel in an hour. As far as you could tell, you were getting the flu, which seemed weird for July, but nothing else made sense. 

No matter how much you slept, you were exhausted. Your body was aching, and you were so damn moody. You'd practically accosted Bradley on Wednesday after you picked him up from the bar, but then you fell asleep as soon as you told him your breasts hurt. You felt embarrassed now as you looked at him next to you, because after all of that, you didn't even let him finish that night. 

As you adjusted your shirt, you could have screamed at how tender your nipples were. At least it was Friday. You could catch up on reading for your presentation research, and then you could sleep. 

"Come on, Rooster," Jake complained. "You have to come tomorrow. I'll leave the hard seltzers at home, and Javy and I will behave."

Bradley turned to look at you with big, brown eyes before he told Jake, "No. No golf tomorrow. I have some things I need to take care of." Then he turned back toward you and softly said, "We're talking tomorrow. About a bunch of stuff. Until we are sorted out."

Now you felt guilty as Jake shot you a look. "We can talk tomorrow afternoon, Roo. Go play golf."

"Yeah, Bradshaw," Jake piped up. "Angel said you can do shit with her in the afternoon. So you'll come with Bob, Javy and I? You know Reuben sucks at golf. He's even worse than you."

"Go," you told Bradley, kissing the edge of his mustache before you stood. "Yes, Jake, he will be golfing tomorrow. I plan on sleeping in, and the quiet house will be nice."

Bradley reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he looked up at you. "I love you."

You nodded. "I love you, too. I need to go get ready for a meeting." His eyes were on your body as you walked away, but you needed to focus on work right now. 

It was all you could do to go back to Bickel's office with Cat and not fall asleep in his soft leather chair. Your boss's calm voice and the warm room were almost too much for your senses. You were fighting with yourself to keep your eyes open. Fighting with everything you had to stay engaged. An hour went by and then two, and he was still talking, and so was Cat, and they kept asking you for input. You were clinging to your extensive knowledge on the subject matter and hoping for the best when Bickel's desk phone rang, and he finally dismissed you. 

"This is so exciting," Cat gushed out in the cooler hallway. "I was telling Jake last night that you and I are going to have the best presentation at the Naval Academy next month, and do you know what he said?"

"Hmm?" you hummed as you walked to the lab.

"He offered to watch Jeremiah!"

"Oh." You hadn't even really considered how hard it would be for Cat to go to Maryland with you, but this was probably a big deal. Jeremiah wasn't even two yet. "Wow. Look at Jake being an exceptional boyfriend. Good thing I pushed the two of you to actually communicate with each other."

Cat laughed and hugged you before entering the lab, but you cringed. Communication. You'd talk to Bradley tomorrow afternoon. You'd pick a car tomorrow afternoon. But when you got home today, you were going to take your temperature and then get in bed. 

You had to wait by the Bronco for such a long time, you contemplated texting Bradley to see what the holdup was. It was late, you were actually starving, and you wanted to go home. You shifted your bag from one shoulder to the other, beyond annoyed that there was only one key to this thing; you couldn't even sit inside. You glared at the pretty blue paint, really missing your ugly red car with your whole heart when you heard boots pounding the pavement behind you.

"I'm so sorry, Baby Girl," Bradley gasped. He must have run the whole way here from the tarmac since he was still in his flight suit. "We ran over. I should have left the keys with you this morning. I"m sorry."

You nodded as he helped you in the passenger side door and buckled you in. "Okay."

He pulled out of the parking garage, glancing at you every few seconds. "All you're going to say is okay?"

You yawned wishing you could get undressed. "What do you want me to say, Bradley?"

He was quiet for a few blocks, but when he turned down your street, he let loose. "I want you to say something more than okay. I want you to fucking talk to me, alright? I feel like everything I'm doing right now is making you mad at me, and I hate that. I fucking hate it." He hit the brakes a little hard in the driveway, and now you were alert as you started crying. 

"Fuck!" Bradley growled, hands gripping the steering wheel. "I'm sorry." He looked so upset right now, you didn't even know what to do as tears streamed down your cheeks. Then he was running across the driveway and helping you out of the Bronco and into the house, but the tears kept coming. And now your head was throbbing and you felt so sick. 

"I just want to go to bed," you gasped. "Please," you begged as he kissed your forehead over and over again while Tramp jumped around. 

"Of course," Bradley whispered, his lips meeting your face again before he knelt in front of you. He kissed your thighs through your khaki pants and helped you out of your boots, looking up at your face which you were sure looked like a wreck. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I yelled." 

"It's okay," you managed as the room spun a little bit. "I just need to get in bed."

He carried you there, and it felt amazing to not have to walk. Then he set you on the bed and undressed you as he asked, "Do you want some water? A snack?"

You nodded and got under the covers, and said, "Yes, please," as you started to doze off. All you managed to do was eat a handful of trail mix and chug a glass of water before you passed out. 

When you eventually woke up, you felt a little better, but when you rolled over, the other half of the bed was empty and cold. It was eight in the morning according to your phone. You'd just slept for over twelve hours, and Bradley was out playing golf now. The cool fabric of his pillow on your face felt so nice, you rolled over all the way. You must have a fever and the flu. You felt too hot, and your breasts were aching. So was your abdomen. Your period was probably about to start. 

You frowned and looked at your phone again, opening the calendar app. It was Carole's birthday, but it was apparently also five weeks since you'd had your period. "Oh my god." You practically fell out of the bed, your legs tangling up in the sheets as you tried to get to your feet. 

"Oh shit," you gasped, running for the bathroom. You didn't know what to do first, but your stomach won as you lunged for the toilet and threw up everything in your stomach. "Gross," you groaned as you flushed the toilet, but as soon as you tried to stand, more came up. Your heart was thudding in your chest as you forced yourself to be patient and let your stomach empty itself.

When you finally could, you got to your feet again, removing your glasses to rinse your mouth out and splash water on your face. Then you dried yourself and slid them back on. You eyed the linen closet next to the door in the mirror before turning around slowly. As you strode across the tile floor, Tramp came in to investigate, but you ignored him as you closed the distance to where you thought you might have one last pregnancy test hidden away.

You opened the narrow door and knelt down, and then you started throwing everything from the bottom shelves over your shoulders, frantically searching. You saw the box, and you tore it open. You already knew what to do, because you'd done it so many times before, but your hands were shaking as you removed the test and looked at it on your palm in the foil wrapper. 

Tramp whimpered at you as you got to your feet again and made it to the toilet, this time pulling your underwear down as you went. When the wrapper fell away, you took the test, hands shaking as you set it on the edge of the sink vanity when you were done. Then you wiped as you started to panic. Three minutes. You needed to wait for three minutes. 

Your phone was simply too far away as you started counting out loud, your voice echoing around your bathroom. It wasn't ready yet. You climbed into the empty bathtub, sitting and wrapping your arms around your knees. And you counted. 

You closed your eyes, and you counted. You looked at Tramp, and you counted. You pressed your forehead to your knees, and you counted all the way until you reached one hundred and eighty. 

"Three minutes," you whispered, your heart beating so hard, it was making you feel like you might need to throw up again. You climbed out of the tub onto unsteady legs and held your breath as you walked to the vanity. Very carefully, like it was the most precious thing you'd ever touched, you picked up the test. You checked the result before promptly dropping it to the floor.

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Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 27

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[big-cheesy-productions]

SXSG - RADICAL HIGHWAY Analysis

Okay, I absolutely love all of the "Black Doom just really likes Radical Highway" jokes, because same, bud.

But, like, I'm actually obsessed with the symbolism of it and its inclusion.

It makes sense for the game to keep coming back to this level for a number of reasons. It was Shadow the Hedgehog's first level in his first game. Of course it would be a central callback in the game, just like Green Hill Zone appears again and again for Sonic, and celebration of his first appearance. This is the nostalgia and callback game after all (and it does it so well). But the way Radical Highway is included and used in SXSG is actually so brilliant.

Okay, bear with me while I talk about Radical Highway as a level and its symbolism originally in Sonic Adventure 2 (My favorite game ever of all time) to set the scene.

Radical Highway is the second Dark level in the game, and the first Shadow level, and the way this level perfect sets up Shadow as a character and how he compares to Sonic is *chef's kiss*.

Sonic's first level is the famous City Escape. City Escape takes place on the San Francisco-inspired streets of Central City. Sonic is on the streets, running past houses and cars, through parks and neighborhoods. It feels grounded (literally and figuratively). Sonic is among the people. There's a small G.U.N. presence, as they are trying to capture Sonic, but it's a pretty peaceful, sunny day otherwise. Perfect introduction for our boy, Sonic.

In stark contrast, Radical Highway is the complete opposite of City Escape in every way. While City Escape was on the streets of Central City, Radical Highway is above it. There's no cute townhouses, no cars going about their day. It's on high, Golden Gate Bridge-inspired streets, in the dead of night. While City Escape had a small G.U.N. presence, Radical Highway has fighter jets dropping bombs on you as you sprint through the streets and there are G.U.N. robots EVERYWHERE. Even the music is the opposite of City Escape, which is upbeat and campy, with famous lyrics we all know and love. Radical Highway’s music is purely instrumental and has a darker tone, and a more serious hint of urgency (while still being a banger of course). 

While City Escape serves to set up our beloved blue leading man as the carefree speedster who goes where the impulse takes him, Radical Highway sets up everything for Shadow. Assuming you play the Hero Story first, you really don’t know much about Shadow, other than he serves as a rival for Sonic. He only has a few scenes where he crosses paths with Sonic, and in all put the last one, he is always positioned above Sonic, until their final confrontation where they are on even ground, literally and figuratively, because Shadow sees Sonic as an equal in the end, whereas before, he saw Sonic, and everyone else in the world, as beneath him. Hence, the brilliant symbolism of Radical Highway being above everything. He literally starts the level at the highest point on the bridge while looking down at the G.U.N. forces and calls them “pathetic.” (This is where that all began.)

He’s above it all, he’s disconnected, he believes himself superior, and in the cutscene before this level we learn about Maria, and her death, for the first time. We see a flashback to that canon event and when we come back to the present, Shadow promises her revenge, and we learn Shadow’s goals aren’t what they initially seemed when Eggman released him.

It is not until the Final Story that we learn what is going on: Shadow was not originally made as a weapon, but Professor Gerald modified him after the ARK incident and Maria’s death, including modifying his memories. The Shadow we see in Radical Highway is not really Shadow. It’s Gerald, in his insanity and grief, in his righteousness and fury. The promise for revenge is Gerald’s, not Shadow’s.

Later games have Shadow rebuild his memories and sense of self in the wake of all of the meddling from certain Robotniks. Shadow the Hedgehog ‘05 and Sonic ‘06 leave us with a Shadow who is still devastated by his losses, but his mind and convictions are his own, and a Shadow who remembers Maria’s true, unadulterated wish (2010s Sonic games go on to forget all of this, but we’re not talking about that right now). He might not know exactly where his place in the world is, but he knows who he is and what he fights for.

Okay, now where am I going with all of this with SXSG? Why does Black Doom keep bringing Shadow back to Radical Highway, from a storytelling perspective?

Black Doom is manipulative. It’s his whole schtick. Shadow ‘05 constantly has Black Doom trying to use the ARK incident to bring Shadow over to his side and serve him. He is trying to use Shadow’s traumatic memories to get Shadow to remember his hatred for humanity, but good/True Story playthrough Shadow recovers his true memories and remains true to his convictions (God, that game would be so good if it was good). Black Doom’s manipulation doesn’t work and Shadow defeats him. 

Now, in SXSG, Black Doom is back. He knows he can’t use the same tactics as last time. Shadow has his memories. There is nothing that could convince Shadow to willingly join Black Doom. Shadow never flinched when Mephiles was trying to manipulate him in Sonic ‘06. So what does Black Doom do? Memory manipulation is still his thing, so he decides to drag Shadow to Radical Highway, to this moment in time instead, because this moment represents everything that went wrong.

In this moment in time, Maria is dead, Gerald is dead, Shadow’s mind is not his own, he has initiated Gerald’s plan to destroy the world, and the promise he made to Maria is corrupted. And now Black Doom is here too, further warping this memory.

Black Doom is trying to psych Shadow out, because he knows he can’t claim him through pure force. There’s definitely a theme of autonomy in many of Shadow’s stories: He was made as a cure for Maria, Gerald modified his mind, Eggman did too, and Black Doom tries to enforce a claim on him. And he’s using this memory of Radical Highway to push this, to drag him back to his past he’s trying to move on from, to say “you are just a weapon. You are just a tool, to be used and modified. You were never anything more.”

But then, Maria and Gerald are there, saying “you are so much more.” Gerald is there calling him “son,” saying he’s proud of him, and asking him to live for himself. Maria is there saying “you are more than your anger, more than your past, more than what you’re made of.”

And all of this is represented by Radical Highway.

I fucking love Radical Highway.

[sovlstr]

Mmmmm thinking about mafiafell…. Writing chapter 7….. thinking about names….Don fell… mob fell and mafiafell r pretty basic so that’s why….

Hm, I love getting inspired and analyzing characters. DF! Sans is just Red, DF! Papyrus is just Papyrus, DF! Gaster is only Wings to his grandchildren…. Oh yes, we’re using that theory here, I enjoy the dynamic seeing as to how the timeline played out. Really young Papyrus is a bit manipulated by Gaster, when Sans pushed his brother away Wings took it as an advantage…. when Papyrus was cripped and seemingly perma-disabled only then did Sans began to care. So Gaster mentored Sans in welding to makeshift him a proper jaw and took Paps another year before he could speak properly...

His speech pattern still remains disjointed so many times he’s removed from the front lines and Sans reserves all the temper of the 3.

And to think Maria is what catches the attention of the most angry skeleton! She and him both die, hm. Say 1950. I do so enjoy torturing them mwah ahaha.

1890-1950 MAFIAFELL TIMELINE

1890: First minster emergence from barrier, remain complacent in scattered regions across Canada

1896: Monster General takes first human soul on surface, first evidence of monsterkinds presence found in Canada. Stories and “myths” of creatures circulate. Thanks a lot Jeff.

1898: Increased tensions lead to monster communities forming isolated settlements near major trade centers (like [REDACTED]). Government begins recognizing monster populations.

1901: Monsters establish borders as recognition grows. American industrialists exploit monster labor for dangerous factory work, deepening resentment.

1908: Monsters migrate closer to cities and soon forms disrupt. Humans are viewed as economic competition.

1912: Monster raids on human lands increase hostility. In retaliation, the United States military experiments with living monster magic to counteract monster defenses.

1914: Tensions reach a boiling point, IB by real life European imperialism U.S. wages war against the monster kingdom under ideal of protecting American interests.

1916: The Siege of Underground occurs. Monster military collapses, King Asgore killed, and monster communities forcibly relocated to reserves for human study.

1917: Monsters granted “limited citizenship,” through heavily restricted rights. Former monster territories are absorbed into U.S. industrial zones and monsters begin to assimilate to human culture.

1920: President Kempt Warren promises normalcy but fails to resolve monster inequality. Magical weaponry development surges as corporations recognize its profit potential and smuggling of monsterkind begins in urban areas.

1922: Prohibition begins. Black markets thrive, selling magics, consumer goods, fleshtrade, and new monster alcohol. Organized crime explodes, involving human and monster gangs.

1924: Anti-monster sentiment fuels the rise of extremist political groups, demanding segregation and tighter restrictions. Monsters form their own unions and underground communities for protection.

1925: Early television prototypes powered by magical energy appear, revolutionizing entertainment and news. This blending of magic and technology creates a unique cultural identity.

1926: President William Cull focuses on economic growth, ignoring societal unrest. The divide between humans and monsters widens as monsters face violence, exclusion, and job discrimination.

1929: Stock Market Crash leads to the Great Depression. Monsters are scapegoated as job thieves and blamed for economic collapse.

1930: Magical weaponry and machinery technologies reach new heights, giving rise to armored cars, magic-powered aircraft, and industrial automation. Wealthy elites control most of this innovation.

1931: Prohibition ends. Human-run mafia families dominate trade in cities in exploiting magic services. Monsters partake with protection and roles of defense for human mafias.

1933: Fiere D. Roster becomes president, introducing “New Deal” to restore the economy. Monsters are largely excluded from government relief programs save for MLA(Monster Liberation Act- allows designated magic users government funding in independent merchant market.

1934(CURRENT): Monsters remain second-class citizens, confined to slums and ghettos. Cities like [REDACTED] form melting pots for poverty, crime, and societal divide. Progress in technology like magic radio, early television, and mechanized transport contrasts moral and social regression. Extremist human groups clash with monster rights activists.

1935: Monsters gain limited inclusion in labor unions, increasing political tension. Roster struggles to manage both economic recovery and societal divisions.

1936: Advances in magical medicine revolutionize healthcare but remain inaccessible to most monsters.

1938: Political radicals push for harsher policies against monsters, fueling riots in major cities. The military continues testing magic-infused weaponry, preparing for potential global conflict.

1939: With tensions escalating an arms race begins between the U.S. and other nations seeking to harness magical technologies. Canada and European powers grow wary of America.

1940: Monster-rights movements gain traction, demanding full citizenship and equal treatment. Whispers of a new global war loom as technological advancements make conflict inevitable.

1945: Supreme Court case “Arlow Trials” highlight case study of monster laborer accused of murdering human factor overseer. Explores dynamic of labor exploitation and systemic discrimination and opens perspectives for monster rights onpar with African-Americans.

1947: In the preparation for war, the HME(Human Monster Equals) act is formed giving monster same rights as humans. In the same situation as African+Americans John Crow laws are passed.

1950: WW2 erupts with America already a world power fueled by magic weaponry and advanced machinery. Monsters are drafted into the military further complicating societal role.

1950-1970: Post-war America emerges as a global superpower with magic-infused technology dominating industries. As result Canada is formed into America and no longer exists. Cultural divide shows signs of healing.

1970/Beyond: Magic becomes commercialized integrated into everyday life like television, transportation, and weapons. Monsters gradually gain equality but carry generations of discrimination and resentment.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐧

series summary: Two years had passed since your break up with Jack, a fellow Statesmen agent. But everything re-ignites again when Champ asks you to go San Francisco to investigate the disappearance of multiple women across the country and, sadly enough, agent Malibu. While doing anything with Jack is chaos enough, you also run in to another ex, a man that actually showed you kindness and someone you thought you could spend the rest of your days with that is until he started asking too many questions about your job, Frankie Morales.

pairing(s): jack daniels x fem!reader, past frankie morales x fem!reader, eventual (+endgame pairing) jack daniels x fem!reader x frankie morales

chapter summary: The story of how you and Frankie met. In present day Jack brings his car to the garage Frankie works at.

word count: 7.1k

chapter warnings: use of weed, alcohol consumption, getting high with frankie morales, high sex, piv sex, reader talking about her break up with jack, self-destructive tendencies (reader), mild exhibitionism, dirty talking, creampie, mention of reader being on the pill, statesmen agent!reader, brief mention of frankie's cocain addiction, reader heavily relying on weed and alcohol for comfort frankie trying to help

a/n: and here we are once again! thank you to all those who were patient with me and supported this series despite it being months, I love you all and enjoy! xx

Masterlist  | Series Masterlist | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

It was a hot day when he met you. 

After his license was taken away, and after the… unfortunate events Santi had dragged him into, Frankie had decided to dedicate himself to volunteer work—volunteer work that specifically included animals. He knew someone, someone way back, named Maria and Maria worked at the local animal shelter. Frankie gave her a call and the next day he was learning the ropes of what they did. 

Initially, Frankie thought he would be visiting once a week—but there was a lot that needed to be done and he wasn’t above getting his hands dirty for the sake of the poor animals who were abandoned. Every morning he had a habit of greeting all the dogs. It was a bittersweet experience. He loved seeing how excited they got, but he also became heartbroken when he saw the dogs that had lost all hope. They would just sit in their cages, head bowed down, only their eyes moving when Frankie came in to clean their living spaces. He felt a special bond between him and them. 

He fixed all the cages the first week, he asked for pillows, for new water bowls. Frankie became a loud protestor of mistreated animals. In the end it made him feel selfish. He wasn’t doing much, but even that little bit of effort made his heart feel lighter after all the shit he’d done. It made him feel good. 

Frankie practically begged Will and Benny to adopt a dog, a black old terrier that deserved a happy home. Frankie would be the first to admit that the small dog wasn’t really Will and Benny’s style, but he asked them anyway. Much to his gratitude, the brothers said yes. 

He thought of Pope, but he was still traveling way too frequently, meaning that he wasn’t the best person to adopt an animal. 

That’s how his days went. Most of his time was spent at the shelter, the rest of his time was dedicated to getting his license back. And of course, he had to work, which he did at the neighborhood car repair shop. The pay wasn’t much but it was decent. Enough for him to buy food. 

He was filling the water bowls when you came in. His shirt stuck to his skin, his back damp and dark in color with sweat. You looked around nervously. 

“Hello there, you looking to adopt?” 

You looked away, biting your bottom lip. Frankie noticed your swollen eyes, your running nose. Raising an eyebrow, he cocked his head to the side—you were crying. 

“Hi,” you chirped, albeit anxiously. “Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m doing here. My friend told me to get out and I didn’t really wanna see anyone so I ended up coming here.” 

“That’s okay,” he answered with a sudden sense to comfort you. His fingers twitched, the need to place a hand over your shoulder overwhelming. He pushed those thoughts aside. “We can look around. I have time, and the dogs always get excited to see new people,” 

“That makes me sad since I can’t take any of them home,” you mutter, finally lifting your gaze and looking at him for the first time. “Can I help with anything? You have volunteers right?” 

“We sure do,” he nodded, smiling. “And we never say no to some extra spare hands. I don’t really have anything specific in mind so let me show you around first. Does that sound good?” 

“Sure. Sounds great.” 

Frankie led the way, walking slowly to give you a chance to take in everything around you. You seemed to be trying your best to stay calm by wrapping your arms around your frame. Again, his need to offer comfort overwhelmed him. He’s not one to place his nose into things that didn’t concern him, but in a way, he could relate to your need to both go out and heal—but also wanting to stay away from people. He understood that. 

"Here are the dog kennels," Frankie said, pointing to a row of cages that housed dogs of all sizes and breeds. "We try to make them as comfortable as possible, but they're still waiting for their forever homes."

“Do people often adopt?” 

“It’s more common now, thankfully,” he grumbles, anger twisting in his stomach. “But  people still want “pure breeds” which is a load of shit if you ask me. There are also the people who adopt but can’t handle the responsibility and bring them back which is—” bitter laughter dropped from his lips. “I wouldn’t really describe myself as a temperamental person but some people I swear to god,” 

“Must be frustrating.” 

“It is.” 

His answer had come from a place of slight shock. Frankie was used to people being more…emphatic. He was used to the “awwws” and the sad “ohhhs” coming from the people who visited. But instead of that, or remarking on how cruel humanity was (which was another answer he frequently got), you just stated a fact. You just pointed out the obvious. Which was slightly unnerving since that obvious thing was what he was feeling. 

The dogs barked and jumped up at the sound of voices, wagging their tails. Frankie stopped to pat a few of them on the head, and he watched you smile as you got closer to the cages, patting a mix between a greyhound and a husky. 

“So loving,” you murmured, fascinated. “One of his eyes is blue.” 

“He’s a husky mix, his name is Thor—well, I call him Thor.” 

“Marvel fan?” 

“Nah, it just felt fitting.” 

Moving on, Frankie continued to talk about the shelter and its operations. He told you about how they rely on donations and volunteers to keep running, and how they work to rehabilitate animals who have been abused or neglected. He hoped to keep his voice gentle and soothing, and he was pleased that you slowly started to open up.

"Are you here full time?” you asked suddenly, taking him by surprise. 

“I wish but no.”

“Work?”

He nodded, “Work.” 

It was odd talking to you. It almost felt like you couldn’t speak in full sentences. It was clear to him that you were in some kind of emotional turmoil—something he noticed not because of his killer observation skills but due to the fact the whites of your eyes were red. He wondered what kind of person you were without whatever it was that was weighing you down. 

He wondered what your smile might look like. 

Frankie didn't ask what you did in your spare time, which would be a natural way to continue the conversation, instead, he showed you the rest of the shelter. He showed you the cats lounging in their cages, the birds chirping in their aviary, and even some rabbits hopping around in a pen. You lean forward, observing the tiny bodies of cuteness through the dirty glass. Frankie almost sees the twitch of your lip, but before it transforms into an expression you straighten up and roll your shoulders. 

“What can I help with?” 

Frankie asked you out on a date two weeks later. He liked to think it was due to the peer pressure coming from Pope and Benny rather than his undeniable infatuation with you. 

You were hardworking, emotional, and quick to point out stupidity. After learning more about the shelter and its issues, which was impressively quick, you started to constantly butt heads with Frankie. He knew your intentions were good, which is why he didn’t mind your passion coming out as impatience. You wanted to help. You wanted to see results. He understood quickly that according to you, the other volunteers were weak-handed, and didn’t want to get their hands dirty—but Frankie found that you were a little too eager to get your hands dirty. 

But he never said anything. He kept his observations to himself and asked you out for dinner at his place, he didn’t really have the budget to take you out, and his cooking was way better compared to Burger King or any other fast food chain. 

You showed up half an hour late with an apologetic smile and a bottle of red wine. 

“Sorry,” you said before hello. “Traffic was insane,” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers with a soft smile. “Come on in.” 

He took the bottle from you and waited until you’d completely passed the threshold, he noticed that you had a slight limp to your step. He closed the door and followed you inside. 

“Are you okay? You’re limping,” 

You were visibly surprised by the question, shoulders raising. Frankie understood then that you were attempting to hide it, and he flustered at the thought, he hadn’t meant to call you out or anything. 

“An asshole kid kicked me,” you sighed, clearly exasperated. “I was just waiting for the light to turn green and this little demon spawn kicked me while holding his mother’s hand. It hurt as hell, but surprise surprise mama satan said nothing!” 

Frankie placed the wine on the table and wiped his palms on his jeans, he was sweating. “Parents tend to be worse than the children they’re rising,” he cleared his throat. “Is it sprained? I can wrap it up for you if you want.” 

He held his breath when you walked up to him, placing a flat hand over his chest. 

“Eager to lick my wounds already,” you hummed, a faint glimmer in your eyes. “How chivalrous.” 

“Force of habit,” he grinned, which was followed up by a loud swallow. “I have a lot of friends that tend to get into trouble.” 

“Are these the soldier buddies I heard so much about?” you pull back your hand. 

He watched as you head for the couch, shrugging your jacket off before taking a seat. With practiced ease, he grabbed two crystal wine glasses and a sleek wine opener from the kitchen. He uncorked a bottle of red wine, letting the rich aroma fill the room, and poured it carefully into the glasses.

Frankie had made a somewhat decent charcuterie board. He raided his local grocery store the day before and picked up some basic items: a block of cheddar cheese, a package of sliced salami, a jar of olives, and a sleeve of crackers. He also added some grapes and cherry tomatoes for color.

He arranged everything on a wooden cutting board and placed it on the coffee table prior to your arrival. He was pleased to see that you’d already made yourself comfortable by crossing your legs, nibbling on a cracker topped with cheese and salami. 

“Thank you,” you said with a mouthful when Frankie placed the glass in front of you. Swallowing, you took the glass by the stem and brought it to your lips, swallowing the ruby liquid. “This is great. I really needed this,” 

“You do know that this isn’t the main course right?” he chuckled, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “My budget isn’t that tight. We have pasta.” 

“Ohh pasta,” you sighed, licking your lips. Frankie’s eyes followed the bath of your tongue. “And that’s not what I meant. I’m just…I was trying to express gratitude I guess. It’s been a while since I felt good and I’m pretty sure it’s all thanks to you.” 

“Well, I’m sure that’s not true,” he couldn’t help but draw slow patterns across the back of your bare neck. He felt like a man possessed with the need to touch you, no matter how minimal. “You’re quite competent. I don’t think you need to give credit to me for your own healing.” 

“I can’t exactly discredit you either,” you smiled, shaking your head. “I’m sorry for being—” you swallowed, words seemingly failing you. “—for being not myself.” 

“Would it be okay if I ask what happened?” his, voice a beat above a whisper. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t seem like the type to talk about your feelings a lot.” 

“You’re too observant for comfort,” the fact that you smiled when saying it relieved him. “But I don’t mind talking about it. I feel like you deserve some kind of explanation—” 

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Even so…I would…like to talk about it,” you took another sip of your wine before turning to him completely, fingers nervously moving up and down the glass stem. “This is going to be cliche.” 

“I have no issues with cliches,” he smiled, the pads of his fingers pressing firmer into your skin. “Cliches are cliche for a reason.” 

“That’s a nice thought.” 

A moment of silence. You took another sip, lips shimmering with the residue left from the wine. 

“I was somewhat recently broken up with. I want to say it was a nasty breakup but it actually wasn’t—which shouldn’t bother me but it does.” 

Frankie remained quiet, waiting for you to continue. He didn’t dare to move or even breathe, in the passing silent seconds. Your chest raised as you took a deep breath, remembering made you wince. 

“We’re coworkers so I see him quite often. He’s also not the easiest person to get along with—and that’s not just me saying that. He kept a lot of things to himself, and it made me think ‘why be in a relationship if we’re not going to comfort and be honest with each other’ he took it well, actually. A week later I heard him being with someone else. I—I took it pretty bad.” 

“That’s okay,” Frankie said without waiting a beat. “He sounds like an asshole. And no one should expect you to take it with a smile.” 

“I guess not.” you sighed and leaned over to place the glass on the table. “I’m not being a very good date am I?” 

It wasn’t difficult to see that you were deflecting. However, being a man of his word, Frankie didn’t press for more details. He would learn more about the man that broke your heart with time, and even if he didn’t, that was alright, as long as he was able to make you smile, it didn’t matter to him what happened in your past. 

Considering his own mistakes and misfortunes, he hoped that you would spare him the same consideration. 

“You’re being a lovely date,” he answered, leaning closer. He noticed the way your eyes dropped to his lips, a soft exhale escaping them.

“That’s an awfully generous statement.” 

It was the way your lashes fluttered when he fully cradled your nape, squeezing softly, he allowed his lips to brush yours. Your eyes closed in a sort of surrender. Maybe he should’ve thought about it more before allowing himself to be a distraction. That was he was; a distraction—a balm to soothe your heart. He didn’t mind being the cure. Maybe that was fucked up of him. 

In that moment he liked to think that some part of him was using you too, for his own comfort. You treated him like he was a pure man, excluded from all sin. It’s far from the truth but it was nice for someone to look at him with admiration instead of ‘you fucked up’. 

He kissed you. Wine stained lips molding together, tongues intertwining, leaving no room to breathe. He inhaled your scent, smoke, and something sweet he couldn’t quite place his finger on. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, teeth gently digging into the soft flesh. Your hands skimmed his waist, goosebumps pebbling under the fabric of his shirt as he felt your fingers moving up and down. 

Frankie was the one to part away, but again, he kept you close, his forehead against yours. Your eyes remained closed, lips looking tender and swollen under the dim lights. 

“Frankie, can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“I don't mean to be presumptuous or anything, but I didn't just bring wine with me. I actually brought some weed, if that's something you'd be interested in smoking," you opened your eyes, staring directly into Frankie’s. “I know it's not for everyone, but it might be a nice way to unwind a bit."

In hindsight, Frankie probably should say no. He didn’t have any issues with you smoking it, but he just wasn’t sure if he should. It had been a while. He remembered using it a lot when he wanted to forget, or before inhaling a shit ton of coke, which he hasn’t done—at least not to that amount—since his license got taken away. 

His cock twitched when you dragged your lips down the column of his neck, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. He exhaled slowly, something that could be easily confused with a sigh. Your grip on his waist tightened. He didn’t want you to feel like he didn’t understand, or that he was against it. He wasn’t. 

While you laid another kiss above his collarbone, he placed one on your temple. 

“Sounds great.” 

They were on the floor. Smoke lingered deep in their lungs, a cloud of cannabis entrailing and curling around them both. Frankie had no idea how they ended up there; backs pressed against the couch cushions, coffee table pushed ahead, empty charcuterie board on your side. Their limbs were tangled with each other, your legs propped over Frankie’s thighs. 

His fingers curled around the meat of your thigh, stroking and squeezing the muscle affectionately. 

“What does it mean to be a bad person?” you asked suddenly. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He slid his hand forward, following the peak of your knee and moving to your calf, there he drummed his thumb against the bone. “What do you think it means?” 

“I don’t know that’s why I’m asking,” you chuckled, you shimmied closer until the curve of your bottom touched the outside of his thigh. “Everything is so gray. I want to be a good person, always have. But then why am I suffering? Why am I having these thoughts that convince me I’m a waste? I thought being good meant sacrificing parts of yourself, to do good no matter what—being good means not thinking about yourself, that is what I was told. And I think I do that. With my job—” 

Your sentence came to an abrupt halt, you shook your head and Frankie could feel the tremors of the movement mirroring in his lap. He dragged his nails up and down your leg, imagining that a shudder would settle over your spine from it. 

“If being good means making sacrifices for it, why is it that the people who don’t are happier than me?” 

“You don’t know if they’re happy or not.” 

“That might be true but I do know that they’re not struggling like I am. They’re not lonely. They’re not afraid of it. Me on the other hand, I cry myself to sleep almost every night,” you shook your head, legs slowly starting to recoil. “Sorry, I—I can’t think, that was such a childish thing to complain about. You’re right. I don’t know what people think, maybe they’re just as tortured as I am.” 

Frankie kept your legs over his lap, forcefully so. “I don’t think it’s childish,” he exhaled one breath and inhaled two. His fingers slid down to your ankle, and there he felt your beating pulse. Your breath hitched. “I just think you’re hurt. We’re all afraid of something. You’re not alone in that.” 

“What are you afraid of?” 

“Losing myself.” 

The air around them stilled. Frankie’s mind threatened to spiral, he took heavy breaths, trying to focus on something, anything. He felt his heart beating in his throat and he swallowed—again and again. Your veins throbbed under the pads of his fingers, he focused on that, he thought that he could hear the blood rushing in your veins. 

“I think you’re too stubborn to lose yourself,” you whispered, hooking a finger under his chin and lifting his gaze back to you. “But I’ll tell you something, if you do, I’ll pull you out of it.” 

He smiled, his heartbeat finally slowing, “And I’ll always be there for you. You won’t have to worry about being alone. No matter what, I’ll be there. Deal?” 

“Deal.” 

He blinked and when he opened his eyes again you were straddling his lap. Frankie’s hands moved on instinct, large palms securing you by resting on your back. His lips found yours, he licked himself into your mouth, teeth digging into your bottom lip maybe a bit too hard. You moaned into his mouth and he swallowed every noise, he sucked the air from your lungs, urging the sway of your hips. Before he knew it, your shirt was off, and so was his. Naked bodies came together, the softness of your breasts against his chest. You kissed him like it was your last day on earth—like you needed it to survive. 

He cradled your breasts with both hands, pushing them towards his mouth. He flattened his tongue over the pebbled nipples, sucking them between his lips as much as he could. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans, painfully so. But he didn’t care about that. How could he when you were grinding down on him, head thrown back and mewling as his teeth nipped the sensitive flesh?

More, you kept on begging, more. 

Frankie was eager to give you what you wanted. A fog settled over his mind, his common sense heavily guided by his need to fuck. Within the haze, the ungrounded whispered promises, they both managed to strip themselves. He couldn’t help himself. He squeezed, pinched, and bit. You returned it in kind. Nails raked over his back, teeth marks formed dents in his skin. 

His cock ached to be buried in you. It dripped heavily, precum smeared the inside of your thighs and stomach. Your chest heaving, placing both hands on his shoulders you lifted yourself up. His head fell back, his hands kneading your ass indulgingly as you sank into him. 

Frankie’s eyes rolled back. You were so fucking wet—wet and incredibly warm. He cursed into your skin, buried his face between your breasts, and kissed wherever his lips touched. You shuddered around him, walls clenched tightly around his cock. A stuttered breath left you both, his nails bit into your skin, the skin above his stomach taut as your arm slowly coiled around his neck. 

“Need you to move, querida,” he groaned, teeth grazing the swell of your breast. 

You relied on him to be able to move, it felt more poetic than it actually was. His muscles strained as you moved, your planted feet doing little work to lift your weight. Instead, you used him like an overhead bar, trusting him enough that he wouldn’t let you fall. It was beautiful, in a way. You trusted him even when he didn’t trust himself. 

“You feel so good,” he whispered, nipping your chin. “This pretty pussy feels like it was made for me to fuck.” 

He felt you shudder through his cock, his balls tight when your movements began to falter, legs shaking. “It was,” you gasped, clamping around him. “Frankie—I’m close. P-Please just—” your words cut off with a moan, head falling over his. He heard you sniffling. 

Frankie’s hands drew soothing patters over your back, feeling every dip and curve of your body. 

“Do you want me to make you come?” he asked. 

“Please.” 

With his feet firmly planted on the floor, he pushed up into you, burying himself as deep as he could. Your arms curled around his head like spiderwebs, the scent of sex and cannabis clung to your skin, breasts heavy as they swayed with his thrusts. 

He couldn’t help himself. You felt tight, warm—just aching for him to fill up. His entire body clenched as he shoved you down, his cock fully engulfed by your heat. He spilled into you, it’s so overwhelming that it’s borderline painful. He could fuck you until the end of time. 

A sudden worry consumed him. Frankie was quick to smooth your back with open palms, looking up at you with soft and pleading eyes. 

“S-Shit, I’m sorry—” 

But on the contrary, you seemed glad. You seemed satisfied and happy. 

“Don’t worry,” you let out a shaky breath. “I’m on the pill.” 

He found you half unconscious sprawled upon the couch. It wasn’t the first time Frankie found you like this, like a picture of his past, showcasing his worst moments and forcing him to re-live them. You groaned as he lifted you up, pushing you into a sitting position. He parted your fingers and shoved a glass of cool water into your hand. You smileed in a daze. 

“Thanks,” you muttered, your voice scratchy and dry. “How was your day?” 

Frankie didn’t answer. He scoffed and continued to clean up, when that was done he guided you to the bathroom. He placed you into the warm water, scrubbing the sweat off your skin. You started crying then. Shaking and muttering apologies, that he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t really think that way. Was it sad to see you like this, yes, no doubt about it. But he didn’t blame you. He didn’t think you were being evil or malevolent. You needed help. 

He needed help once too. And you weren’t anything that he couldn’t handle. Just a shit ton of weed and alcohol. He just needed to be here and it would be okay. He wanted to keep his promise.

Frankie told you as such. Not that you believed him. But he said it anyway. Reminding you that he was here, that it was okay. He would talk about himself, what he’d gone through without going into much detail. He didn’t think you were ready to hear that part of him yet. 

He smoothly guided the loofa over your skin, suds moving up and down. He noticed the bruises on your arms, your ribs. 

“What are these?” he asked. 

You looked down, shaking your head. “From work,” you quickly said. “I fell. Nothing important.” 

Frankie nodded and didn’t press any further. 

But the bruises didn’t stop. 

Every night when you came back from work, you had bruises, cuts, it almost looked like you were fighting but with who he had no idea. It became a problem. Him asking. It agitated you, made you lash out. And you lashing out made him lash out. He never wanted to break up, the opposite, he wanted to be with you. 

The words just slipped. 

“You need to tell me what’s going on so I can help. Do you want me to leave, is that it?” 

“Maybe you should.” Frankie made a face and you sighed. “Maybe it’s better for the both of us if we spend some time apart. Honestly, it’s probably better for you. I’m not…I’m not well, Frankie. You deserve someone better.” 

“What does that even mean?” Should he be angry? Should he put weight on these words that you were saying? 

“It means that my…my feelings aren’t enough to make this work.” 

“I think they’re plenty.” 

“They’re not, Frankie. You know that. This isn’t fair to you. You deserve someone who’s whole, someone who isn’t broken.” 

“Stop calling yourself that,” he snapped. “you’re not broken. I never thought that you were.” 

You walked up to him, a single tear trickling down your cheek as you placed a hand to his rough, stubbled cheek. "Goodbye, Frankie. Thank you," you whispered, before leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips.

Frankie's eyes widened in surprise, his body tensing for a moment before he relaxed into the kiss. It was brief, but it spoke volumes - of regret, of love, of loss.

When he left Frankie heard the sound of glass shattering against a hard surface.

Frankie regretted everything. He regretted Benny talking him into flying to San Francisco and he regretted saying yes to coming to this shitshow of a club just because Benny went on and on about how it was the hottest new thing. 

And typical of Benny, he was nowhere to be found. 

The air around him was suffocating. It smelled of alcohol and sweet perfume that was strong enough that he felt his nose might fall off at any given moment. People around him danced and laughed. He never felt more out of place in his life. He lifted his ballcap and ran his fingers through his hair. He should definitely go back to his hotel room. He’s sure Benny would understand. Besides what was the alternative? Find a random person to fuck? He wasn’t really in the mood to make pleasantries and act like he was fine when in reality he wasn't. 

Needless to say, the breakup had affected him more than he cared to admit. 

A group of girls shoved him around and his eyes went over the many drunk people in the club. He was desperately hoping Benny would miraculously appear in the midst of the people. Wouldn’t that be amazing?

His eyes caught glimpse of a couple sitting in one of the booths. It was hard to see due to the red light but still, he could never truly forget what you looked like, no matter how dimly lit it was. The man you were sitting with somewhat resembled him, he was clean-shaven, his mustache trimmed and neat. His eyes traced the curve of his nose, the dip of his eyebrows, the flat line of his lips. Frankie found the cowboy hat to be comical but he couldn’t really judge anyone when he wore a baseball cap 24/7. 

The cowboy leaned into your ear and murmured something but you were heavily distracted, your gaze glued to Frankie. It truly must’ve been a shock seeing him here. Not wanting to be rude, Frankie smiled, it was forced, it was broad but it was the best he could do as he headed in your direction. It just happened. He hadn’t really thought about it. 

“Hey.” he said. 

You looked up, a forced smile slowly spreading across your face. Frankie was somewhat pleased he wasn’t the only one feeling awkward. But despite it all, it was good to see you. 

“Hey,” you answered, a slight tremble in your voice. “How are you, Frankie?” 

“I’m good, you?” 

“Doing better,” this time, he noticed, your smile was a sincere one. “What are you doing here? This place doesn’t exactly scream ‘this is a hangout place for Frankie Morales’.” 

He chuckled and scratched the back of his head. For a second, he’d forgotten there was someone else with you. His heart sank when he heard the deep voice cut through the greetings from the past. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, buttercup?” 

Both you and Frankie turned to Jack, Frankie’s eyes scanned the other man with a hint of curiosity. He followed the way the other’s arm was tightly wrapped around your waist. Jealousy rolled in his stomach, he was glad that you were happy, of course. Still, he couldn’t deny the loud blood rush in his ears. 

“Frankie this is Ja– Bruce. This is Bruce,” you said, Frankie raised an eyebrow at the mixup. He wasn’t stupid. “He’s my–” 

Bruce (Frankie didn’t believe that was the man’s name but he’d play along for now) cut in, his voice dripping with amusement. 

“Boyfriend,” he leaned forward with an extended hand. With a kind, yet emotionless smile, Frankie squeezed the aforementioned limb. “Nice to meet you, Frankie.” 

“Nice to meet you too.” 

It wasn’t. 

The air was thick with tension. You moved uncomfortably in your seat, as Frankie held “Bruce”’s gaze. He’s not sure what it was but the other man managed to rail him up by simply just sitting. It was an odd feeling, usually, Frankie was known to be level-headed in these kinds of situations. After everything he’s seen, he just assumed stuff like this wouldn’t bother him anymore. He pinched his brows together. It was uncomfortable to think that he was just faking not being bothered. Acting above it all.  

His jaw tensed, his skin incredibly warm. Suddenly the music and the loud chatter faded into the background, all he could focus on was the other man—even you had become a blurred image to a degree. The man smiled, his hand on your waist gradually sliding up your body while answering Frankie’s gaze. The latter swallowed. 

You gasped when the same hand cupped your breast and began to knead it. 

“What are you doing?” 

Frankie’s mouth went dry. 

“Don’t fret, I’m just giving our friend a little show,” 

Frankie vaguely noticed you staring at him, he was frozen still. His gaze was glued to the hand lazily squeezing your breast. Bruce nuzzled the dip of your jawline, lips gently grazing the line of your neck, and he breathed you in. Frankie licked his lips, his fingers twitching against the denim of his pants. Something primal stirred in him when your breath hitched. The red light gave the two of them a vibrant, erotic hue. The front of his jeans suddenly felt tight, uncomfortable. 

The cowboy’s other hand traveled down to the wetness that Frankie’s sure had grown substantially between your legs. He noted the way your eyes rolled back, his finger underneath your dress, he imagined the other tracing your clothed folds.

“Do you enjoy being watched, dear?” he purred into your skin, his voice low and mocking. Then he looked up to Frankie who was frozen still. “Look at you, staring at her like a deer in headlights. Don’t you wanna come over here and feel how wet she is?” 

Frankie had to stop himself from leaning forward, he was more than ready to take that extra step. His skin tingled. His eyes flit from the other man to you. He saw the way you stared at him, blinking heavily, a silent plea for him to come closer. He furrowed his brows, if you wanted to he’d happily take a seat next to you. He stepped closer, his heart skipped a beat. Bruce seemed to be delighted. 

“Are you sure?” Frankie asked you. 

You’re about to nod– No, not about to, you’re in the midst of nodding, but the movement was cut short when you saw something Frankie couldn’t. You were staring through him, your eyes went wide. 

“Shit.” 

Frankie watched dumbfounded as you grabbed Bruce by the arm and tugged him along as you scurried up from the booth. He took a step back, trying to make sense of what was happening. Bruce glared at you and yanked his arm away.

“What the hell–” 

“It’s him– Albert Dunn, the waitress tipped him off. Come on Jack we need to go,” 

Frankie raised an eyebrow. “Jack?” 

He fucking knew his name wasn’t Bruce. He didn’t look like a Bruce. 

Jack rushed to the door, leaving you alone. Frankie was worried, but he also felt anger simmering in his gut. So you went back to your ex, the ex that made you feel like shit and pushed you to seek comfort in other substances. Oh yeah, he was definitely angry. 

He took a hold of your wrist and pulled you close so his voice could reach you. 

“That was Jack? I thought–” he sighed and shook his head, it was hard to swallow his frustrations down but somehow he managed to do it. “You’re not in any kind of trouble, right? You’re safe?” 

You nodded as you attempted to peel yourself away from his grasp, but he didn’t let you. He squeezed your wrists hard enough to be understood as a warning.  

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” 

“I can’t, I’m sorry.”

He felt defeated at that moment, his stomach sinking and his pulse slowing. His grip around your wrists loosened, and despite the crowd, it felt like it was only the two of you present. The bass of the music made his heart thud accordingly, his gaze dropped to the floor. 

“I’ll call you,” you said suddenly. 

Before Frankie could answer, you ran and disappeared into the crowd. He just stood there, hands lifeless against his body. Some part of him wanted to chase after you, but another part knew that he shouldn’t. 

He didn’t know when but he jerked when a hand smacked his shoulder. Frankie turned only to see Benny, his smile faded as he saw Frankie’s expression. 

“Are you alright, Fish?” 

He wasn’t.

Frankie was working on a car for what felt like hours. 

Sweat drips down his forehead and neck, leaving streaks of dirt on his skin. He wipes his oily hands on the rag that hangs from his back pocket, his eyes squinting against the hot sun. The air around him is thick with the smell of gasoline and motor oil, but he barely notices it anymore.

He sighs as he stands up, his knees aching from being hunched over for so long. The car is almost done, but he needs a break. He reaches for his water bottle, taking a long drink before leaning against the hood of the car.

That's when he hears it - the roar of an engine. He turns his head to see a vintage Ford Bronco driving towards him. He raises an eyebrow, surprised. It's not every day that a classic car like that pulls into his garage.

As the car comes to a stop, he walks towards it, wiping his hands on his jeans. He squints into the driver's seat, but he can't make out the driver's face. He shrugs, assuming it's just another customer, and goes back to his work.

But as the driver gets out of the car, Frankie's heart skips a beat—which he doesn’t appreciate. It's Jack. He feels a rush of emotion that he can't quite place. The man hops out of the car and greets him by tipping his hat. Frankie doesn’t return Jack’s enthusiasm. He just stares at him, confused. 

“Need your car fixed?” he asks, hoping this is just a coincidence. 

“Not quite,” Jack drawls. “I actually wanted to apologize for my behavior a week back—in the bar.” he adds when Frankie gave him a quizzical look. “I would like to buy you a drink.” 

Frankie waves him off in dismissal, “No need. It’s nice for you to apologize but we don’t need to be friends. It’s weird.” 

“I suppose it is,” he grins. “Just one drink.” 

“Why?” 

“I just want to talk,” he answers, teeth poking above his lip. “I don’t bite, promise.” 

Frankie seems to have a lot of regrets nowadays. This is just one of many.

They walk into a dimly lit bar, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the hot day. Jack leads the way to a booth in the corner, and they both slide in, facing each other. Every muscle Frankie feels uncomfortably tight over his bones. 

He really shouldn’t be here.

Jack orders them both a whiskey on the rocks, and he unpromptedly clinks his glass against Frankie’s. The first sip burns down Frankie's throat, but he relishes the sensation. 

“So… you’re a mechanic?” Jack asks. 

“She didn’t tell you much about me did she?” Frankie smiles, the corners of his lips twitch. “No, I guess she wouldn’t. Why would she tell her boyfriend about her ex.” 

“We aren’t actually—” Jack swallows. “We aren’t actually a couple. We ain’t even friends to be truthful, just acquaintances.” 

“From work?” Frankie asks despite knowing the answer, the other nods. 

Frankie takes another sip of his whiskey and studies Jack’s face. There’s something different about him now. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself or the set of his jaw, but Frankie can’t quite put his finger on it. Frankie leans back against the booth, his eyes fixed on Jack’s face. He can feel his body tensing up again, despite the coolness of the air conditioning. He takes another sip of his whiskey, hoping it will calm his nerves.

“Listen, Jack,” Frankie says, his voice low. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t want anythin’,” Jack says, his eyes meeting Frankie’s. 

“Then why are we here?” 

“I was just curious about what kind of man you are,” he swipes over his bottom lip. “She might’ve not spoken about you much but when she did, she did speak highly of you.” 

Jack leans in closer, his arm brushing against Frankie's. 

“It seems like you’re a much better man than I could ever be.” 

“I wouldn’t really go that far. I don’t know you and I don’t know what she said but nothing is ever that simple.” 

Frankie observes as Jack’s eyebrows slowly raise, eyes only slightly wider. The other seems taken aback by the words and Frankie’s not really sure why. Maybe Jack still wasn’t aware that good and bad didn’t exist, that they were just terms. No one is really truly bad or truly good, you understand that after being at war, after shooting others that had families and loved one’s before they shot you. 

He shakes his head, trying to rid his thoughts of unpleasant memories. Those thoughts were only reserved for the late hours till morning—

Frankie feels the heat rising in his cheeks as Jack's hand brushes against his knee. He tries to ignore it, but he can't help but feel a stirring in his chest.

They start to get closer, their arms touching as they lean in to talk. Frankie can feel the heat of Jack's body next to his. Jack’s gaze lingers on him. He takes a sip of his drink, trying to steady his nerves. Frankie’s leg bobs up and down, he should leave. 

“I should go,” Frankie chokes out, he shifts in his seat, getting ready to get up.

“Stay.” 

Frankie can feel Jack’s breath on his cheek and his heart starts to race. It’s just a voice. Jack’s not even touching him, he not holding his wrists, doesn’t have a gun to his head but despite it, Frankie stills. 

“I appreciate the drink,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “But I’m fine.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jack asks.

“I’m sure,” he says, his eyes locked with Jack’s.

Jack leans in even closer, his lips just inches away from Frankie’s ear. “Alright then,” he whispers, his breath sending shivers down Frankie’s spine. “See you later, Francisco.” 

Frankie can’t throw himself out of the bar fast enough. 

The world around him spins, the cars louder, brighter the before. He heaves a breath. What the hell was that? He thinks over and over. The warmth of Jack’s breath still lingers and Frankie crosses the street, adamant about putting as much distance as he can. 

When he’s on the other side, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t recognize the caller ID but takes any kind of distraction with open arms and answers. 

“Hello?” 

“Frankie it’s me,” you say and an odd sense of relief washes over him. “Can we meet up?” 

He stops, takes deep breaths of the city air. His throat is dry and he lifts his head to the sky. 

“Sure,” he answers. “How does tomorrow sound?” 

[yournaothings]

Living the Dream: Wake Up

@bored-animator Another update ;3

Norah finally wakes up.

We meet her attacker at last.

Sorry for the long pause! I've been pretty busy lately, been struggling with stuff, and of course my internet went down. D: I'm back now, thank you all for being patient. <3

Super nervous as to what you all think of this one. I hope you like it! I'm so sorry if it seems rushed.

This is one scene I've had playing in my head for weeks. I'm happy to finally get to it, but things are starting to heat up!

Characters and their Creators: Killer Sans: Rahafwabas Dust Sans: Ask-Dusttale Horror Sans: Sour-Apple-Studios Nightmare Sans: Jokublog XTale Sans(Cross): Jael Peñaloza/Jakei

Ink Sans: Comyet Underswap Sans (Blue) and Underswap Papyrus (Stretch): popcornpr1nce Dream Sans: Jokublog Shattered Dream: galacii Fresh Sans : Crayon Queen Core!Frisk: DokuDoki

-->

The day dragged on, it seemed and it only made everyone around him anxious. It made Dream feel so sick, but he carried on with his duties, trying his best to brighten everyone’s day up a little. He knew why the staff of the shop was so anxious, and he reassured them that there was no reason for it. 

Everything would be fine, they only need to be patient. 

Dream understood how hard it was for them; their friend had been in this coma for so long and a bit of hope had sparked within them the moment Dream agreed to help. Dream found out that the small family discussed the topic of closing the shop in favor of caring for Norah- Maria chose to keep the shop open for the day, stating that this wasn’t an emergency. “It would be selfish to stay closed when many folks are in need of their groceries.” 

It impressed Dream when Maria knew when the shop was going to be busy; it made sense after all, seeing how long she had been running the shop. A lot of folks depended on the small shop and would be caught in a pickle if they weren’t able to get what was needed. Still, he could feel the anxiety within her own soul; she was just as wound up as everyone else was. 

The bell chimed as the last customer walked out and Lily was quick enough to flip the sign to ‘closed’. She busied herself with the chore of cleaning the store, while Maria worked on counting the till and finishing up paperwork. 

Kai had already left for his second job a few hours ago and would meet everyone at the hospital later. Dream switched the radio to an upbeat song, then started to help Lily with cleaning the store up. The songs that played helped lighten the atmosphere; Dream helped a little too when he started to hum a familiar song. He could see the tension in Lily’s body relax and her smile returned. 

It was unusual to be this quiet, but Dream knew the women had a lot on their minds. Dream would have been just as stressed, but he only felt a peace course through his body and soul. He had the confidence that he would help Norah wake up and heal her body from whatever had made her sick. 

Once the chores were done and the money counted, Maria closed everything up and shut off the lights, as well as gently guiding Dream and Lily out of the store. They climbed into the car, waiting for Maria to start it and drive away. 

Dream watched Maria grip the steering wheel as her uneasiness reflected on her face.  She must have noticed him studying her; she smiled softly, uneasily and released a shaky laugh.  “I’m sorry, Dream. You must have been so uncomfortable all day.” Dream offered a sympathetic smile. “Do not worry about me, Maria. I understand and I am used to it. Just try to relax, everything will be fine.” 

Maria’s brows dipped down as she glanced at him worriedly. “What if you can’t save her?” 

You can’t save anyone. Stop now before you ruin everything.

He forced the negative thoughts down and he gave Maria a determined look. “Then I’ll try again. I won’t give up on Norah.” She needs my help and I won’t abandon her now.

“What do you plan to do?” It was Lily who asked, Dream glanced at her through the rearview mirror and smiled. “I plan to wake her up. From there, I will heal her body so she won’t be ill any longer.” Lily’s face pinched; “That sounds too easy.” She said, disbelief in her tone. Dream hummed in agreement. “It does, but I know I can do it.” Lily visibly relaxed at that, yet he could still feel her doubt. “I hope so, Dream. For both Norah’s and Felix.” 

The rest of the ride to the hospital was silent aside from the radio playing. Dream let himself relax, pulling the positivity from around him. The two women were still feeling apprehensive about what was to come and it only made Dream feel sick. They tried not to, but he understood. This was something serious, and they were trusting him even though they had only met him a few weeks ago. 

Maria pulled into a parking spot and Dream peered up at the hospital, already feeling the negativity of all who were sick and dying inside. He had to focus on his positivity. He siphoned in all the happiness and peace from around him, building up his strength.

Stepping out of the car, Dream stretched his bones before following the two women into the hospital. Because Norah was in her coma, she was on the Intensive Care Unit, which in this hospital was on the second floor. Once the doors to the elevator opened on the second floor, Dream inhaled deeply, already hearing Norah’s soul call out for help. She was close. 

They had to check in, let the nurses know they were in to visit, before Maria led her small group into Norah’s hospital room…

The darkness dripped all around the room, it was negativity for sure. It threatened to suffocate Dream as he drew in closer to the hospital bed where the young woman laid, looking peaceful in her sleep. But, he knew better, she was tormented within her dreams. Within her mind, where she was kept prisoner. 

Dark tendrils of negativity gripped around her soul, making her flinch at the pain. The darkness knew Dream was near. 

“Let’s begin with opening the blinds.” Dream began as he walked over to the windows and raised the blinds to let in the sunlight. “Oh,” Dream paused when he heard a new voice behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see one of the nurses standing in the entryway; she looked nervous. “The doctor said to keep those closed during the day.” 

Dream looked confused. “I do not understand. She needs sunlight, it will help, I am sure of it.” The nurse continued to shuffle nervously. “Ah, he did not give an explanation other than the patient needed rest.” Dream raised a bone brow and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I will not close them. This room shouldn’t be dark. It’s no wonder why her brother is always so sad. Darkness welcomes the sad and depressed. We should be happy and relieved that Norah is still alive.” 

The nurse paused as she regarded Dream’s speech, and a small smile lifted at the corners of her lips. “I-I agree. Then, I will not trouble you with the blinds any longer. Please, if you need anything let me know.” She explained, smiling to all three before walking out. 

Dream turned away from the now opened windows, the sunlight pouring in and chasing away the darkness. “No wonder she wasn’t getting any better. She was being bathed in the dark.” He told Maria and Lily. He quietly walked over to Norah’s bedside and studied her. She looked thin and sickly. The doctor, whoever he was, wasn’t doing a very good job at trying to keep her nourished. 

“How much longer before Felix and Kai arrive?” Dream suddenly asks, his focus still on Norah. “They should both be here within twenty minutes.” Maria replied and Dream nodded. “We will wait for them. Felix should be here when she wakes up.” 

-

Felix was the first to burst into the room. He was in a panic, afraid of… Well, just about anything! More harm falling onto his sister. Norah possibly woke up and he wasn’t there. 

Her passing…

But, he was relieved to see Dream sitting beside Norah’s bedside, patiently waiting for the two men to arrive. Kai walked in after, politely shutting the door and closing the privacy curtain in case the nurses decided to come in and stop Dream. 

“You haven’t started yet?” Felix asked, sounding relieved. “I haven’t.” Dream confirms gently. “Are you ready for me to start?” Felix relaxes his tense shoulders and nods, his focus on his malnourished sister. “Yes, you can start.” With a nod, Dream stood quietly and raised his hand to hover over Norah’s body. 

“I am going to remove her soul from her body. Do not panic, she will be safe. I want to see what damage has been done to her.” Dream explains. “After I have finished checking her soul and I believe she is safe, I will wake her up. Please do not hover or try to interrupt me, it may cause more damage to Norah.” 

“Will it hurt her?” Felix asks, his voice small and unsure. He was so afraid. His sister had been through enough. She was his only family (aside from Lily) left. He couldn’t lose her.  “I will make sure she remains safe, Felix.” Dream said as he turned to look at him with a resolute expression. “This will not hurt her, I assure you.” 

Felix exhaled quietly, his eyes falling to watch Norah’s face, to watch for any sign of pain or discomfort. Fear filled the room too quickly- Dream began, cupped the air and when he pulled up, Norah’s green soul appeared over her body. 

Her soul was tainted with a darkness that swirled within her soul. They were like chains, binding her and imprisoning her. Dream’s eyes narrowed in wonder and upset; this was familiar to him, but he didn’t feel Nightmare’s presence. In fact, this darkness that bound Norah’s soul felt strange. It was different than Nightmare’s corruption.

With his magic, he worked at the corruption, struggling to remove it from her soul. The more he fought with it, the more strange and unfamiliar it became. He hadn’t witnessed anything like this before. He didn’t want to shove too much of his magic into her soul and make her worse, so he took his time. 

“What is on her soul?” Lily asked gently. She had found her place beside Felix, her hand in his and squeezed his in a form of comfort. “I believe it is corruption. I’ve seen something like this before, but this one is different.” Dream explained, but kept his eyes focused on Norah’s soul. “It’s strong magic.” He muttered, but they heard it. 

“Was it the doctor?” Felix asked, his voice dropping in anger- Dream sent him a look of warning. “I know you’re angry, Felix, but please. That form of negativity will only make this worse.” 

Felix bit his lip and glanced away, his hand squeezing Lily’s back. She did her best to soothe him. Maria stepped closer, watching Dream work at breaking the dark spell. He was careful, like a surgeon’s focus on making the proper incisions during surgery. Dream’s focus remained on Norah’s soul as he weaved his magic through the soul and broke each link of magic chains. 

During this, Maria took note of how the room brightened; not by the sunlight, but from Dream’s aura. His body glowed with bright positivity, that made him look ethereal. That image alone convinced her that Dream was an angel sent to them from the Stars above. A monster of miracles, brought to them in their time of need. 

The admiration from Maria filled Dream’s soul and with the helpful positivity, the last of the dark magic broke from Norah’s soul, filling her with nothing but Dream’s positive magic. With a soft, relieved sigh, Dream gently guided the soul back into Norah’s body.  “When I wake her up, do not hover. She may react poorly. Give her space until she is ready.” Dream warned, he didn’t wait for their agreement, and reached up to Norah’s head and used his magic, pulling her from the heavy blanket of sleep…

Norah’s usual beautiful brown eyes were darker than normal thanks to the deep sleep that she was under. Her pupils constricted at the bright light of the sunlight and the skeleton monster above her, causing her to squint before blinking a few times. She moaned softly, her voice scratchy as she tried to speak, her throat sore from being asleep for so long.  “Where-?” 

“N-Norah?” Felix asked as he cautiously stepped closer to her bedside, taking the place where the skeleton monster once stood. The monster backed away slowly, but stayed close; for what reason, she wasn’t sure of. He watched Felix closely, and she wondered if it was another trick from the doctor. 

Maria was quick to leave the room, requesting for some fresh ice water for Norah, as well as explaining that Norah was awake. 

“Fe-ix” She managed to get out and tried to clear her throat. “Norah, oh Stars, you’re awake!” He cried, tears instantly falling from his eyes. He leaned down to hug her, crying into her shoulder as she weakly hugged him back. She cried too, her tears mixing into his hair as she trembled and cried. The monster who stepped aside smiled, catching Norah’s attention.

His smile was so bright, serene, and charming. Nothing like the monster who put her under a spell and fed off of her emotions. This one, standing in her hospital room looked exactly like the one who she saw in her dreams. “You came after all?” She managed to get out, her voice scratchy and broken. 

“I did.” He said and his smile widened. Maria hurried in with a nurse who carried in a paper cup of ice chips. The nurse politely asked Felix to move away so she could check Norah’s vitals. He chose to sit beside the bed, his hand holding Norah’s as the nurse did their job. After getting cleared to have the ice, they helped sit Norah up in bed and she weakly crunched on the ice; the cold water soothing her throat. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I feel okay… How long was I asleep for?”

“Months. Do  you remember what happened?”

“I think so? I remember being held by strange wiggling black appendages before I was knocked out. Oh, wait. The doctor- whe- where is he?” 

Norah looked around the room, nervously before resting her tired eyes on Dream. He noticed how she studied him with distrust. “You… You’re not the doctor, right? He can disguise himself.”

The room fell silent, the four humans had to take a moment for that to settle in their minds. Dream tensed, he looked so worried now. “I am not the doctor, Norah. But, the way you describe him… Tell me, have you seen his face?” Norah nodded, and she gestures towards him. “He looks just like you, but with black goo.” 

Felix was up on his feet in an instant, his anger returning fast. “You’re the attacker?!” Dream raised his hands to try and calm Felix down. He was so confused; the only one he knew with black goo was his brother. But, he supposed there could be a possibility someone could shapeshift. But with black goo? 

“I am not the doctor.” He repeated to Felix. “I do not have the corruption she is talking about either.” He turned his attention to Norah then. “Did he tell you his name?” Norah shook her head at that. She paused and closed her eyes as a dizzy spell hit her after such a small motion. “When he is a doctor, he looks like a normal monster. But, when no one is around, he is back to his black goo body with those tendrils behind him. He wears a crown on his head, or… Not a crown, but a circlet? It looks like two hands reaching for each other in the center- ah, like this.” 

Norah demonstrates what she was meaning by bringing her hands together, one with the palm turned up and the other with the palm turned down, both in a cupping motion as if they were about to grab onto each other. 

Dream’s face paled, he knew what she was talking about. It was the same as his own- did someone take it after he left? Were they playing a prank or were they trying to sabotage him? 

“His one good eye was golden, like yours. But, he holds no compassion, no happiness in that eye. He said that my ancestors had hurt his family long ago and that I had to pay for their crimes.” 

“What the fuck-?!” Felix shouted, Maria snapped at him to not shout or curse in the hospital. However, everything around Dream seemed to fade away as he thought over what Norah said. 

How could that be? Nightmare wouldn’t do that, right? There was no one else in this multiverse who looked like him or his brother. 

Right? 

What if there was? Blue and Ink… They are different versions of the classic skeleton known as Sans. Is it possible that there are different versions of Nightmare and I?

“Well, this is quite the surprise.” 

Everyone in the room turned their attention to the entryway where the doctor stood. His false smile stretched across his lips as he studied the room.  “What a relief, you are awake, Norah-” 

“Enough pretending, you prick.” Felix snapped, his anger targeted at the doctor now. “We know you’re the one who hurt Norah. Drop the fucking act.” His tone dripped with venom, he sounded ready to fight. To tear the asshole into pieces. 

“I see.” The doctor said gently, his smile falling for a moment, before he grinned cruelly. “What a relief. This play-pretend was getting old.” The six of them watched in horror as the disguise fell away to reveal a skeleton monster; his black goo, the corruption dripped off of his body and the tentacles at his back swayed like a cat’s tail would.  

Just as Norah said, the monster looked exactly like Dream, but with the corruption covering his entire body. Dream noted how the damaged eye socket was opposite of his brother’s. “Who are you?” Dream demanded, stepping in between the monster and the small family. He balled his fists at his sides- he wasn’t all alarmed when his weapons didn’t materialize in his grasp. He left them behind, after all. 

“Dream~” The monster purred, his grin widening. “I was surprised you showed up here. At first, I thought you came to stop me, but when I noticed the depression and sadness, I knew you were simply following the same path I did.” 

“What are you talking about? How do you know about me? Explain yourself!” Dream demanded, panic settling in his soul that he refused to show. However, this monster before him seemed to know exactly what he was hiding.  “Do you not get it, yet?” The monster laughed. “I am you. My name is Dream- well, no. See, I used to be like you. Until my last fight with my corrupted brother. After he accused me of not knowing his pain, I ate the black apple, and my soul shattered; I became corrupted myself while my brother was back to normal.

“So, yes. I am Dream, but I go by a different name now; I am called Shattered Dream.”

—

Something was wrong and Nightmare needed to know what it was. 

It was a simple mission to feed off of the negativity that was growing within the multiverse, and to his luck, his boys caught up with Ink and Blue. 

“It’s quite unusual for you both to be out here. Where is my brother? I can tell he’s done something foolish.” 

Blue and Ink looked at each other, but kept their teeth tightly sealed. “You won’t get anything from us!” Blue exclaimed, stubbornly.  “That’s right!” Nightmare rolled his eyelight. He was in no mood for their games. “What has my idiot brother done this time, tell me this instant!” He snapped at them, threatening them with his tentacles, sharpened at the ends and pointed at the two skeletons. 

“We’re not telling you!” Blue repeated again. “Yeah! We don’t even know where he is anyway!” The silly, forgetful skeleton explained. “Ink!” Blue snapped in disbelief at his friend. “Nightmare wasn’t supposed to know that!” Ink looked confused, his eye lights flashing different colors and shapes. “Oh, he wasn’t?” Blue sighed, and if he wasn’t tied up right now, he’d slap his hand over his face. 

“Holy shit, Dream Boy is gone?” Killer asked in disbelief. “Did he really run away?” Cross asked and he pulled his phone out to check over his latest messages with his best friend Epic. Nightmare glared at Cross; “What do you mean by that, Cross?” 

Cross, realizing his mistake, made himself as small as he could before Nightmare’s rising rage. “Do you mean to tell me that you kept this from me?!” Cross stuttered as he tried to get himself out of trouble with Nightmare. “I-I didn’t realize it was true, boss!” Nightmare groaned and pinched the bridge of his nasal bone. “Idiots, all of you.” He muttered to himself. 

The sound of Error’s glitching portal opened behind him, further irritating the Guardian of Negativity. “T-There y-y-you are-e.” Error spoke, his glitches were grating on Nightmare’s already thinning patience. “I-I-I found-d-d D-Dream-m.” 

The group of skeletons perked up, Blue and Ink looking happy. Ink burst from his bindings somehow. “That’s great, Error! Where is he?” 

Nightmare watched Error’s expression twist in unease and he threw his thumb back at the portal behind him. “H-He’s on th-he other si-ide of the m-multivers-s-se. Nightm-mare, you b-better com-me see this-s too-o.” 

Error wasn’t one to let monsters and humans come into his space, but he let this one slide. Once everyone had entered, and Error smacking both Ink and Killer for trying to mess with his things, he opened a window to show the AU where Dream was “hiding” out at. 

“I-I thought may-ybe he was-s on vac-c-cation. B-B-But he’s be-e-een here for we-e-eeks.” Error started to explain. “I-I-I thought he wa-a-as going after you-u-u, Night-tmare, but lo-o-ok.” 

Nightmare watched closely as Error finished searching for Dream again, only to find him in a hospital. He stood between a group of humans and-

“Holy shit!”

“It’s another Nightmare!” 

“Cool!” 

Nightmare frowned, his eye socket narrowing into a small glare. “That is not me, you idiots.” Error turned to look back at Nightmare with a frown.  “Th-he ano-anomaly’s name is-s Shattered Dream.” Ink snapped his fingers suddenly as if remembering something. “Oh yeah! There was an AU where Dream ate Nightmare’s apple and he became the new Nightmare!” 

“What is Dream doing there with him?” Nightmare asked, frowning deeply. A different kind of anger is consuming him now. A sense to go and protect his brother joined the anger, but Nightmare wasn’t about to unpack that.

“Th-The sick hu-uman pis-s-sed the an-nomaly off, app-parrently. Dre-e-am sa-aved her, and now is-s facing-g-g hi-im.” 

“That idiot.” Nightmare grumbled under his breath. He had this feeling that Dream would be no match for this version of himself. Facing an enemy, Dream always don his usual attire, circlet, and weapons. Something was wrong. 

“We need to go to him, then!” Blue explained and suddenly pulled out of his inventory, Dream’s weapons and circlet. “He does not have his weapons!” Nightmare rolled his eyelight. He knew it. “Error, take us there this instant-”

Error interrupted Nightmare with a laugh and shook his head. “I-I’m not doi-ing anything of-f the sort-t. N-Not without pay-yment!” Nightmare’s eyelight rolled once again, and he released a heavy sigh. “You will get your chocolate bars. Now, take me to Dream, this instant!” Error acted like he was thinking about it, Nightmare’s anger began to rile  up once more. The moment Nightmare’s tentacles sharpened, Error gave in. “Fi-ine.” 

The window disappeared and a portal took it’s place. Nightmare didn’t have to give any commands, he knew his boys would follow him through. Blue and Ink were quick to follow after Nightmare, Cross hurrying after to catch up to his boss. Killer, Dust, and Horror followed right after at a more leisurely pace.

[na-uvi-nuu]

Ta Niku'u Mayu/When Mother Got Sick

Mom tells me about the first time she came to the United States. "Ñuuyo titsi ra vatsi/I carried you in my womb and came," she begins. She remembers sitting at a Burger King in Nogales, Arizona to barely disguise having crossed, "That's what the coyotes told us." From there, she and Dad were picked up by strangers who took them to Santa Maria, California. Uncle Enrique and Tía Gisela had crossed with them, but both went to separate places. She remembers her early days working in the fields picking strawberries and tasting food she had never eaten, "It was very hard to work in the fields. I couldn't stand it. Nikuniyu ntanchiko/I wanted to go back. I didn't know anything about pizzas or burgers. I had to get used to that." She didn't know how to cross the streets because there are no traffic lights in her hometown. Her first time in an elevator and escalator was in the Santa María shopping center where the ups and downs were very scary. "Yu'u nchu'a/I was very afraid," she repeats as she tells her story. 

A few months after crossing she began to feel itching all over her body that out of fear and because she did not speak Spanish she did not mention her symptoms to the doctors during her delivery. "In yoo ta nikakú ra ntukuaan ntuchinuu/One month since you were born, my eyes turned yellow. Yu'u nchu'a ku'unyu nu to'o stata tsa ña ntsiniyu a kutunininayu/I was very afraid to go to the doctor because I didn't know if they would understand me. Kue ni tsituniniyu ña ka'anna ta nikakuku/I didn't understand what they were talking about when you were born," she tells me as a lump forms in my throat. Dad says something that makes the lump bigger, "Nikaan maku ña ku nkui/Your mom thought she was going to die. 'Kotova'a se'eko,' kacha/'Take care of our son,' she said. Ntsiníkue nchi ku saakue/We didn't know what we were going to do." Dad lost his sense of hearing on his left side as a child which made it difficult for him to learn and understand Spanish. Both attended elementary school in their respective hometowns, but because they had to work or help take care of their families' animals, they did not complete all their studies. In my ini, my inner being where we Na Ñuu Savi/People of the Place of Rain keep our thoughts and emotions, I feel anger and sadness when I think about the few resources my parents had when they arrived North from Oaxaca, Mexico where they felt that they had to leave to survive poverty. Since my childhood I have seen how migrants from the municipality of San Juan Mixtepec share with each other advice, suggestions, and resources to be able to overcome their difficulties due to the linguistic and cultural barriers they face outside their place of origin. 

That network gave them lodging and that's how they came to live with a cousin of Dad's. It was from that Indigenous migrant support network that Mom finally went to the doctor. Auntie, seeing Mom's eyes, said, "Yu'u nchu'a nchee ntuchinuuku/I'm so scared seeing your eyes. Kutsi nchi ntuu/Who knows what's wrong with you. Tsiniñuu ko'on nu doctor/We need to go to the doctor. ‘Comezon’ ku ña ‘kata’ ra na ntantuko nixika kacho takua na kuncheenayo/’Comezon/Itching’ is the same as ‘kata’ and let's see what else we can say so that they see you." They went to a clinic where – between Mom, Auntie, and a nurse who speaks Spanish – they managed to make the English-speaking doctor understand that they should do an ultrasound on Mom. "I just remember they said something was wrong with my liver. I needed to go to a hospital. They asked me if I knew anyone with a car to go immediately. The nurse who helped me communicate with the doctor took me to the hospital after telling me that we as women are the first caregivers of our children and that I needed to get better to take care of you. Ntsintuñá tsiu ncha ta nikee ra ntasiañáyu ve'e/She sat with you until I left the hospital and took me home," she tells me. They advised her not to breastfeed and prescribed medication to take for seven to eight months. 

"I can't believe you left me with a stranger," I say jokingly. Mom laughs and replies, "Well, yes. I had no other choice. Va'a nchu'a iniñá/Her inner being was very good. I never knew what happened to me. I didn't understand what the doctors said and I didn't ask any more, although it still happened to me when your siblings were born. What am I going to ask? What am I going to say? How am I going to respond? These were things that I was thinking about and I didn't say anything." She recalls the long road she has faced since arriving to the United States, "Now I can communicate. Now I'm used to farmwork. I treat it like a sport. I run, I lift, that's how I make my boxes." Mama's story is not unique and although it has been 30 years since she arrived in the United States with fear of not being understood, the situation in hospitals has improved, but there is still a lot of work to be done. How many other people have gone through and continue to go through the same or worse because of the lack of interpretation? Because of the fear of not receiving support in the language they understand best? How many have been able to count on  similar support that the nurse at the clinic gave Mom? Having worked in an organization that advocates for the linguistic rights of Indigenous communities (Comunidades Indígenas en Liderazgo) my hope is that institutions will seek out the leaders of these communities to come to understand us and our needs better so that one day we all receive the support that we deserve as human beings. 

[cemeteryreviews]

Church Reviews #4 - Church of San Francisco

Maria Hazel: You know, the Church of San Fransisco is very special since it is the oldest surviving church in Bogotá, built between 1557 and 1566 when Colombia didn't exist and the whole country was part of the New Kingdom of New Granada, a Spanish colony. As any old building, it has seen some shit. It got damaged after an earthquake in 1785 and some reconstructions have been made. Look at the entrance.

The bell tower is white, but the rest of the entrance is built out of sandstone bricks or other kind of textured bricks, like this, it feels like some sort of frankenchurch, made of the parts of other churches. This entrance was finished around 1794, and you can see the date on the inscription. It looks all cornered by the bigger building at its side. It's small, and it has suffered of people writing graffiti on it too, this church definitely has seen better days.

This church is in one of the oldest neighborhoods of the city, most of it is composed of pedestrian crossings, my guess would be because some streets were never designed to have cars on them, so it is a bit of a touristic route and in every single street, every few meters, there are street sellers and musicians singing, dancing, playing the guitar, etc.

Aside of the sensory overload the place gives you, you know, even more than usual, there are vagabonds here and there and a lot of places smell like piss.

At the side of the church there is a small square where guys practice skateboarding jumping the sewer gates.

If you sit around it, some religious person might want get close to you and ask you to sign something. I left right away when I got asked, but I thought it would have been funny if I used my deep male voice and said I was cursed by Satan so I couldn't touch religious symbols, it could have been funny.

This is the view of the church from the square.

And this, this is the church from its side. The graffiti says "Don't let the crosses use you as a puppet."

When I saw it, i thought "this church is evil." It's an attack on the senses everywhere you see it, the white bell tower, the sandstone entrance, the stained glass dark windows, covered with metal bars and surrounded by more mismatching bricks.

At the end of the first chapter of Dracula, Jonathan says "the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the sky." And you can feel the same from this church, no light enters to the church, everything is jagged, everything looks wrong.

Victoria Hazel: That's stupid. It shows signs of permutation and change, but that doesn't make it "spooky evil", that's just stupid, stupid.

Maria Hazel: Anyway, when I go it is usually closed, but today, when I went, it was open, so I took the chance and went inside.

Okay so first of all, there are several signs that say "it is not allowed to take photos, turn off your phone." I legitimately do not understand why, I don't understand, it might be to create atmosphere, but still... I did wrong, I did really wrong. But what I am supposed to do? It's photos, man! I took some photos, yes, but I'm just going to use them as a reference to help myself describe everything inside as much as possible, to you.

Victoria: Booo! Booo!

Maria: I know, I know! It sucks, but I will do my best to make it as descriptive as possible. Besides, there are some good photos of the inside here and there if look up on Google.

The air of the inside feels stale. It's like when you have a laptop right? If its plugged into an outlet, you say, no problem, I have all the time in the world, but if its on battery you say, hmmm, I only have like 3 hours left. Well, this air was exactly like that, it makes you say, damn, I have at most 3 hours of lucidity left. It smells weird, and it makes you think you might end up taking in the germs of a XIX century parishioner. The ceiling of the biggest part of the church is in wood, so yeah, not a great start there. The lighting is always dim, like very dim. It is hard to see. I saw a small chandelier at the very back but most of the place uses small, tiny studio lights to illuminate the place, some white, some yellow. Not everything is in wood though, there is another type of ceiling covering the side aisle.

[PHOTO #12]

Chat GPT: Picture, if you will, an expansive surface composed of a grid of square panels, each adorned with a central golden knob that catches the light. The panels are bordered in subtle, tarnished green, a hue that contrasts gracefully with the warm shimmer of the gold.

Victoria: I thought you were the one to describe the things, not some AI.

Maria: I'm english second language and there is a lot of weird shit I can't describe well give me a break!

Chat GPT: Within certain panels, decorative motifs emerge, with darkened, almost floral or cruciform designs subtly embedded in the grid. The structure is framed by deep wooden beams or moldings.

Maria: So anyway, the nave has a wood ceiling, and the side aisle has that weird ceiling. It doesn't have an aisle at the other side.

[PHOTO #13]

There are several big, golden altarpieces with lots of statues of religious figures, these are the things covering the windows and not letting the side of the stained glass windows come in. It's a bit of a weird place, you say, man, what a weird ass place, and then, you walk up to the altar.

[PHOTO #14]

The altar, no, not just the altar. The holy mother of all altars. This sanctuary is composed of 12 golden polychrome reliefs at each side on columns of three each, with the first two being as big as a person and the last one at the top being very small. At the center there is three other reliefs at each side, then 3 statues of some saints and then two other big ones on the center. Everything is of a golden color, almost as if it was of actual gold, it's not gold, right? It cannot be actual gold.

This place, it's huge, like, the church might be small but the altar is so wide and tall that it does its function of make you feel small. It is absolutely breathtaking and awe inducing, it makes you say, "damn, the people who made this really had a knack for design, a knack for opulence, this, is quite something, this place is holy." Everything is so shiny, and it would probably be more if it wasn't due to the dim, pale light, it would probably shine more.

There is even a mysterious red door at the side, a big, big door. When I was there, a very old man came out, dressing a purely brown robe with a white string, that is not the usual priest attire I have seen, he was so old that at first I thought he was part of the exhibition, he had a cane and took his time to walk, supporting himself of everything at his side too. I saw him touch one of the status at the center altar and look above. "A life of devotion." I said to myself when I saw him. The altar was so big that even if you crossed by the chains, it would take you 3 or 4 seconds to reach him. A guy passed the chains and I got nervous, but he just went to say hi to the priest and it seems the priest smiled and they had come conversation, again, it was very dark.

[PHOTO #15]

At each side of the altar, as in, outside of the altar but at the side, there is a canopy (or a dossal) with a big figure or statue on them as well. These two have stairs to reach them, and for some reason there is a pigeon or a dove pasted at the bottom of it, it's a bit bizarre.

[PHOTO #16]

The floor is a terrazzo floor. We know what I think about terrazzo floors, I like them in offices and other buildings, but in churches it feels a little too pristine for my taste. I don't know if that's the exact word, but oh well.

[PHOTO #17]

Chat GPT: This floor presents itself as a geometric tapestry of stone tiles, arranged in a meticulous diamond pattern. Each tile is a deep, earthy red, reminiscent of terracotta, bordered by pale, almost white stone strips that crisscross at perfect right angles, creating a series of interlocking diamonds.

The red tiles bear subtle, natural imperfections—tiny flecks and gentle pockmarks. The lighter stones framing each red square add contrast and definition, drawing the eye toward the repeating pattern and creating a sense of depth.

Maria: And it also looks kinda lame for some reason, I don't know why, but it never lands with me the right way. There is also a chamber that is also quite breath taking.

[PHOTO #18]

Chat GPT: This grand space you’ve captured could be described as a side chapel or perhaps a sacristy, though it also has qualities of a sanctuary where sacred art and iconography are displayed with reverence. Upon entering, one is immediately enveloped by the opulence of the golden altarpiece at the far end, standing as the focal point of the room. The altarpiece is intricately carved and gilded, containing statues within niches, likely depicting saints or religious figures central to the church’s identity. Each niche is framed with gold leaf and it gives a contrast to the cool, blue-green tones that dominate the walls and ceiling.

The walls themselves are adorned with what could be termed pilasters, flat columns with gilded detailing, giving structure and rhythm to the space. They frame a series of large, somber paintings in dark hues.

The ceiling, too, is a masterpiece—painted in a similar blue-green shade, dotted with golden floral or star-like motifs. The way it arches above feels almost like a canopy. Lining either side, along the walls, is paneling in the same blue-green hue, embossed with golden embellishments, each panel forming a vertical rhythm that draws the eyes toward the altar. These details are not merely ornamental; they reflect the Baroque intention of engaging the senses fully, surrounding the viewer with beauty that speaks to the divine.

Maria: In the center, a simple wooden bench rests, the side chapel is closed by bars though, so you can't really enter. What struck me is the use of white pale lights that point towards the ceiling, these people know very well how to create an atmosphere. The white, pale lighting makes the room seem to glow, somehow.

[PHOTO #19]

At the front of the church you can see yet another ceiling below a small balcony.

Chat GPT: The intricate design is a tapestry of octagonal and cross-shaped motifs, creating a rhythm of interlocking patterns that seem to echo infinitely across the surface. Painted in a rich, cool blue-green, the background color serves as a perfect foil for the lavish gilded details that adorn each shape.

Each octagon and cross contains a floral or sunburst-like medallion in gleaming gold. These gilded motifs, carved with meticulous detail, appear almost three-dimensional.

[PHOTO #20]

Maria: Most of the confessionals are of a very old worn out wood in green and red, they are placed in some awkward positions between the aisle to the point the look as if they were just piled up for display.

[PHOTO #21]

At the front entrance, there is a big, picturesque door.

Chat GPT: This is no ordinary entryway but rather a ceremonial or sanctuary door. The door is painted in a rich, almost regal red. The surface is adorned with intricate, gilded wood carvings. These golden ornaments take the form of baroque flourishes—floral and foliate motifs that curl and twist in ornate patterns, framing central medallions.

Around the door's edges, delicate bead-like decorations outline the panels, adding a rhythmic texture that guides the eye along the frame. The asymmetry of the designs—paired with the slight wear and imperfections—gives the door a sense of character.

Maria: There is some other stuff to see, like the several altarpieces, some huge paintings and everything else in the altar that I just seem to be unable to describe. At the side there is even a small chapel too annexed to it. It doesn't seem to be part of the thing or even connected somehow, it's weird man, weird.

So well, that's basically it, a decay and unseemliness that makes it feel evil on the outside, and an opulence and sacred atmosphere that gets you close to meaning of everything that is holy on the inside. Everything about it is wild, it makes you think how a thing like that even became real, how it came to be, and how long as continued to exist over time. I stayed for some time but after a bit I felt I had to leave because the air was heavy and I felt it was slowly making me insane. That church is intense.

The floor still sucks though, so I'm not giving it a perfect score.

9/10

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT OSCAR ROMERO Feast Day: March 24

The night before he was murdered while celebrating Mass, Archbishop Oscar Romero of San Salvador said on the radio:

'I would like to appeal in a special way to the men of the army, and in particular to the troops of the National Guard, the police, and the garrisons. Brothers, you belong to our own people. You kill your own brother peasants; and in the face of an order to kill that is given by a man, the law of God that says 'Do not kill!' should prevail. No soldier is obliged to obey an order counter to the law of God. No one has to comply with an immoral law. It is the time now that you recover your conscience and obey its dictates rather than the command of sin… Therefore, in the name of God, and in the name of this long-suffering people, whose laments rise to heaven every day more tumultuous, I beseech you, I beg you, I command you! In the name of God: Cease the repression!'

Simultaneously, Romero had eloquently upheld the gospel and effectively signed his own death warrant.

When he was appointed archbishop of San Salvador in 1977, Bishop Romero was considered a very 'safe' choice. He had served as auxiliary bishop there for four years before his three years as bishop of Santiago de Maria.

Oscar’s father wanted him to be a carpenter—a trade for which he demonstrated some talent. Seminary classes in El Salvador preceded his studies at Rome’s Gregorian University and his ordination in 1942. After earning a doctorate in ascetical theology, he returned home and became a parish priest and later rector of an interdiocesan seminary.

Three weeks after his appointment as archbishop, Romero was shaken by the murder of his good friend Jesuit Father Rutilio Grande, a vigorous defender of the rights of the poor. Five more priests were assassinated in the Archdiocese of San Salvador during Romero’s years as its shepherd.

When a military junta seized control of the national government in 1979, Archbishop Romero publicly criticized the US government for backing the junta. His weekly radio sermons, broadcast throughout the country, were regarded by many as the most trustworthy source of news available.

As Romero finished speaking, a red car came to a stop on the street in front of the chapel. A gunman emerged from the vehicle, stepped to the door of the chapel, and fired one, possibly two, shots. Romero was struck in the heart, and the vehicle sped off.

He died at the Chapel of Hospital de la Divina Providencia in San Salvador on March 24, 1980 at the age of 62.

Romero’s funeral was celebrated in the plaza outside the cathedral and drew an estimated 250,000 mourners.

His tomb in the cathedral crypt soon drew thousands of visitors each year. On February 3, 2015, Pope Francis authorized a decree recognizing Oscar Romero as a martyr for the faith. His beatification took place in San Salvador on May 23, 2015, and he was canonized on October 14, 2018.

[blnk338]

I KID YOU NOT I WAS GOING TO ASK IF RIGO (or nadya) WERE FIRST GENNNN. I just knewwww, is there headcannons you have for rigo’s family? Like maybe what state they’re from? Are both of his parents Mexican? Is he chicano (born from 2 Mexican immigrants)??

Since plenty of my friends are half Mexican and from somewhere else in Latin America, I was just want to know more about that aspect of him. Is there any family chisme? Mine is that my moms side of the family stole the land my dad bought 😭😭 This is the first time I see an author write people like me without being straight up stereotypes🙄 so thank you!!

p.s. I checked ao3 last night and it said I had visited your story 268 times😭

there's so much to rigo hold onto your bootstraps buckaroo but thank you so much for the love and support :) (268 times? holy shit!!!)

rigo's parents are both mexican immigrants, even with their last name being "cassidy"

yesenia guzmán, rigo's mom, and santiago chávez, rigo's dad, immigrated to the us when they were in their single-digits and met in highschool. but by then, santi's family had their name changed to "cassidy." this was bc his father worked as a lawyer and wasn't taken as seriously because of his surname, leading him to change it (based this on my own family stuff :))

his parents' parents had immigrated to santa maria. then yessie and santi got married after college and moved down south to san diego and had rigo and his siblings after they finished their schooling

natalia (4 yrs older than rigo with two kids) came first, then ximena (2 years older 3 kids), then finally rodrigo

unfortunately no chisme their families really like each other-- rigo's got a super positive family life and his parents never really moved on from the honeymoon phase

santiago really tried his best to learn what he could for his daughters and not be uncomfortable with periods and shit. he was a little odd about rigo coming out at first, but really he was like "mijo i don't understand it but i just want you to be safe"

eventually he'd ask him "uno de mis amigos abogados tiene un hijo gay."

".... okay"

"are you interested?"

"dad." santi's trying his best.

yesenia was cool with his sexuality from the start, and his sisters didn't mind either. it was just sort of like "ok. now what?" he didn't really expect to be bombarded with hate or anything, he was just surprised that it all went so smoothly

also, santiago and yesenia don't really follow a lot of traditional gender roles so they'd cook and dance together, saturdays are early morning cleanings days and his parents will wake up at 6:00 am and play loud music and make the whole house spotless

santi's all about claiming rigo's friends as his own kids like oh you need a ride to school? get in the car were leaving in five. but don't ask him about math homework that mf hates math. with all the love in the world, do it on your own

yessie loves cooking for people but she also loves pampering her kids. she gives nadya eighty pounds of leftovers every time she leaves their house and she loves doing her kids nails and stuff. one of her favorite memories was when her children were super young and they'd do braid trains and have a big dinner together

now she teaches her grandkids traditional hairstyles and takes them out and spoils them all. yesenia's horrible at not spoiling her family (+ nadya...). this woman's filled with so much love its crazy

his parents still go on date nights once a week and his dad still gets all giggly and giddy and takes a million photos of his wife in her pretty sparkly dresses

santiago's facebook is pretty much "mi alma" and it's like a billion photos of her from the same night

"mi vida," "mi cielo," "luz de mi vida"-- etc. like they're so fucking in love its crazy

[darkjanet2]

Chapter 4: The Death of Maria Robotnik

San Francisco, CA Golden Gate Bridge 5:45 PM

A sunset glow hung on the golden bridge’s stone wall that stretched out over the bay in front of them; it bathed everything with a warm amber tint. Below lay darkening waters below as the sun sank further, leaving orange and pink streaks across the sky. It made Shadow look strangely out of place among the city’s lights; the sound of sirens and police cars blaring off to his right had barely even reached them, making the atmosphere eerily silent.

"Hmph, how pathetic," Shadow drawled, folding his arms in front of him.

*Flashback*

50 years ago in Space Colony ARK

"Find them before they escape!" said the military running through the space capsule's corridors.

The hedgehog and a human girl were running down the corridor, pursued by several G.U.N. soldiers who were trying to stop them from getting to their spaceship. A young, blonde-haired girl in a blue dress named Maria was holding Shadow's hand firmly, her eyes wide with fear. She was panting through from running and Shadow's fur was plastered with sweat, but they kept going at full speed. They could hear gunfire ringing around them and people yelling. The soldiers fired again, narrowly missing them, then stopped.

"Hurry! We have to run faster! We're gonna if-" Maria gasped as she tripped but Shadow tightened his grip on her. Maria stood up painfully. "Don't leave me behind-" she sobbed, gripping Shadow tighter as the sound of shooting continued.

"Shit," Shadow whispered under his breath. He turned on his heel and began to take his fighting stance, looking ready to fight the enemy. Maria looked at him with wide eyes and clasped her hands together. Her mouth moved wordlessly, forming an 'o', but no sound came out. The three soldiers approached Shadow and Maria cautiously, the ebony hedgehog leaped forward as one soldier tried to fire, and kicked him in the face before punching the second one. Shadow used Chaos Spear on the third soldier, who fell to the floor unconscious.

Shadow landed lightly on the ground, looking back at Maria to see her still standing, staring at him with wide eyes. Shadow walked towards her. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly. She slowly nodded. "Good. Let's move."

Maria wiped the tears from her face. Shadow led her along the passage until they entered the main control room. There was a console with various controls and levers attached to it that seemed to be controlling the entire operation of the ship. Maria gasped in surprise at all the buttons and switches, pointing at each one, and asking questions.

Shadow just rolled his eyes in response. "Just follow my lead,"

"In here!" shouted Shadow grabbing his friend by the wrist, and pulling her along behind him as they ran faster than she could run. Finally, the hallway ended at the metal door, which opened just enough for Shadow to shove Maria inside. He slammed it shut, locking it.

Shadow quickly took in Maria's state; she was breathing heavily and sweating profusely, her skin pale and clammy. Shadow grabbed a handful of tissue to wipe away her sweat, noticing how much smaller her hands were compared to his own now. "Here," he offered and held out the white wad of tissues. "Use these to clean your face, get rid of any sweat." Maria nodded numbly, taking the tissues and wiping her face. Shadow looked around the room. There were screens everywhere showing images of the inside of the spacecraft, showing where the intruders are located and the ship's systems being controlled.

Shadow booted up the computer, and the screens suddenly lit up with holographic maps with symbols and numbers that Shadow recognized as schematics of the inside of the craft, like the inside of the cockpit. The red dot representing Earth appeared on one screen, the green dots around it moving around rapidly indicating that some of the crew members are attempting to escape, while black dots marked places that weren't currently occupied by the invaders.

"What do we do?" asked Maria as she sat cross-legged on the ground. "Do we try to get out of here, too?"

"We have to get to the Earth safely. Then I will figure something out," replied Shadow. "But first, find a way out of here,"

He pressed the red button as the hatch popped up underneath the door, revealing glass panels covering the top half of the ship. But the pod was so small that it wasn't big enough to fit them both.

"Maria, you go in the pod," suggested Shadow. "It should hold you well enough. I'll stay in here and cover you if anyone comes in."

"But... what about you? You can't possibly protect me from bullets," said Maria.

Shadow scoffed. "I won't miss it, don't worry about me. Go, get out of here," He pushed her gently toward the hatch. Maria stared nervously at Shadow for a moment more before finally nodding and turning to enter the hatch.

Suddenly, the loud banging at the metal door shook the whole space capsule. Shadow jumped a bit before realizing it must've been the G.U.N. trying to break into the shuttle.

A small voice from outside said, "Come out here right now!" Shadow clenched his jaw.

"They're not breaking in," he told Maria. "If we open the door, they'll just shoot at us until we surrender," said Shadow in a calm tone. Maria didn't respond as she continued to stare at him in concern, biting her lip softly. Shadow could see her chewing on it anxiously. He sighed softly, grabbed her hand, and pulled her closer to the pod hatch.

"You need to get out of here," insisted Shadow. "Go, now!"

With that bomb exploded the metal door burst open, and two G.U.N. soldiers burst in. They had rifles pointed right at them. Shadow's hand tightened around Maria's tightly as the G.U.N. soldiers' footsteps pounded on the floor loudly and they raised their weapons. Before they could do anything though, Maria pushed Shadow to the pod door with all her strength, then dove inside and closed the lid. The pod lid was sealed shut, Shadow tried to force it open, but it would not budge despite his efforts.

"Maria!" Shadow called, pounding against the glass. "Open the hatch!!"

'Damn it,' gritted Shadow thought angrily. 'Why can't this stupid thing just open!?'

Maria grabbed the lever next to her, the leader of the G.U.N soldier raised his rifle and aimed it directly at Maria, who was about to pull the trigger.

"Let go of that lever! I'm ordering you to let go right NOW!" yelled the soldier. Maria glared at him defiantly and pulled the lever with two, straining in the effort. The soldier hesitated but when he realized Maria wouldn't listen, he fired the gun without hesitation. Maria yelped as the bullet grazed her back, grazing against her spine. Blood began to trickle down her shirt and she slumped onto the floor.

"No!" screamed Shadow, throwing himself at the pod hatch, but it was already sealed shut. "Maria!!" Shadow frantically tried to get it open again, but it would not budge.

Maria's hand was still holding the lever, weakly got up, her dress was soaked in blood, and she coughed up blood.

"Shadow..." she muttered quietly, her gaze fixed on Shadow as she clutched her wound with her other hand. "I beg of you... Please, do it for me... Take care of yourself..." she managed to croak, tears swelling in her eyes.

"No, wait--!!" Shadow shouted desperately. "Don't die here, Maria--!!!" He could feel his body starting to tremble as he banged the pod glass, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"For all people who live on the planet, for the world, for all humanity....!" Maria choked up with tears, her voice trailing off. She coughed weakly once more, the blood pouring out of her wound increasing.

Shadow felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. "No, please... don't do this to me..."

"This is for a better future... Shadow, I know you can do it. Just do what is best for the world... Don't cry. I love you," She said with a slight smile. Shadow stared at her in shock and disbelief. His heart felt like it was shattered in his chest, tears falling freely down his cheek as he leaned his forehead against the glass.

"Sayonara, Shadow," She whispered, her words slightly slurred, with that she pulled the lever with her last strength and collapsed on the ground.

Shadow froze for a moment, not sure what to do. His breathing became rapid and irregular as the pain in his chest intensified tenfold, and all his emotions started to build up. He was about to lose his cool and start crying. The pod was finally released from the spaceship liftoff, which threw itself into the atmosphere of the planet's atmosphere and flew straight towards Earth.

"MARIA!!!" screamed Shadow.

*End flashback*

“Maria, I still remember what I promised you, for the people of this planet... I promise you... REVENGE!!" Shadow roared as he launched himself toward the enemy soldier, using his Choas powers to propel himself forward. The G.U.N soldier raised his weapon to fire at Shadow, but he caught the shot with his hand and sent a punch flying straight through the man's head, killing him instantly. Shadow turned to see the other soldiers getting ready to fire on him, and quickly dodged their shots, charging directly at them.

One of the G.U.N. soldiers threw another grenade at Shadow. Shadow quickly dodged and kicked the grenade away with his foot, causing it to explode against a wall with a bang. A second explosion soon followed after, knocking over several of the soldiers, as they attempted to take cover behind pillars or whatever it was they did, but the remaining soldiers immediately took aim at Shadow and started firing at him with their guns. However, he had already begun using his powers to deflect and dodge the shots, using all his energy to fight off the enemies. He was able to get away with only minimal injuries, but there was no stopping the bullets now.

"Chaos Blast!" Shadow cried out, unleashing another ball of swirling yellow light, hitting the closest soldier dead on, sending him spiraling through the air, crashing through the windows of the control room.

The other soldiers scrambled to get away from the attack but were too late to avoid being hit, the blasts ripping through their flesh. Shadow's hands glowed white with intense Chaos Energy and his body glowed red as he charged at a soldier aiming an electric baton at him, knocking him unconscious. Another soldier swung a knife in front of him, but Shadow caught the knife in midair and threw it at the soldier, who fell to the ground.

His body stopped glowing red with Chaos Energy as he looked down at the unconscious enemy soldier, his hands shaking uncontrollably. After taking a couple of deep breaths, he lowered his hands slowly, feeling his body relax slightly.

Shadow took out the green gem and raised his hand above his head, "Chaos Control!" He shouted as he teleported himself, leaving the military and the police force far behind.

[corvidist]

Lonely Charge

CAL FIRE U2734F plowed forward through the turbulent skies above the city of Lompoc, California. Having recently departed from Santa Maria Municipal Airport, the tanker hauled an overweight payload of red chemical. Said red chemical was increasingly difficult to come by since many of the plants that used to produce it either burned, flooded, or were simply abandoned. This was the last of it in Santa Maria.

The fire line was rough along the Santa Ynez mountains, stretching from the forlorn launchpads of Vandenberg SFB, east to the southern Sierras, and south to Carlsbad, where a far more ferocious battle raged to save the last of Southern California from the flames. Of course, CAL FIRE had stopped paying anything beyond food, water, and safety for the families of its workers years ago, but that was a far better deal than most could come to expect at this point in time, especially in this part of the world.

The pilot let out a nervous sigh, looking to his right, then at a screen that displayed the ground below. They were over a highway, tens of thousands meandering north in a unified mass of cars, bikes, and people. Beyond, nothing but smoke, standing in a firm wall along the range from which Los Padres National Forest, and Santa Barbara beyond, were engulfed in a firestorm that, at the time of the oldest crew member's birth in 2010, would have seemed impossible. The almost benign look of the initial smoke wall betrayed nothing about the hurricane of fire that lay beyond. Their drop was at San Marcos Pass, a section of highway being defended in a desperate last stand by a group of firefighters, National Guard, CERTs, mutual aid collectives, construction workers, and any volunteer willing to pull up grass to allow some more evacuees to escape. The unease among the crew was palpable.

Perhaps that uneasiness stemmed from how different this fire felt, from the sheer lack of coordination to the sense of hopelessness that many had begun to feel long ago, now brought to the surface, almost personified. Maybe instead, it was because only U2734F had been allowed to fly, rating well enough to supposedly make it through category four hurricanes. The winds at San Marcos Pass gusted to the equivalent of a category two storm, almost bearable when compared to the winds being generated at the fire line, but far stronger than what any other aircraft designated to this section of the fire could take. Because of the winds, they would need to make an exceptionally low pass for the drop to be successful.

The plane lurched sideways as the crew braced at their stations, the air outside changing immediately to a solid brown twilight. With zero visibility the pilots relied entirely on their instruments as they guided the plane lower, eventually breaking down the gates of hell that were the pyrocumulus. A swirling mass of flame engulfed the remnants of the city below, blocking any visibility beyond the vague outline of State Route 154. The instruments confirmed that was what they were looking at, and the copilot instinctively pitched the nose up as alarms sounded, then went quiet. Then, they sounded again, altitude warnings blaring as the pilot forced the plane to dip.

At this point, it was clear that none of the crew truly knew what they were doing or why they were there beyond theoretically buying time. With visibility this bad, the drop that in about 6 seconds would coat the highway in red chemical, collapse the roof of an abandoned house and crush an empty national guard personnel carrier, was something that put more lives in jeopardy than it would potentially save, and felt as though it was ordered by someone with no grasp of the situation. Still, six seconds after the alarm began to blare "Too low, terrain, Pull up!", the payload was released, and the frantic copilot almost pulled the plane into a stall.

They flew to Vandenberg to fill up with saltwater, as the red chemical was now gone, and freshwater too precious.

San Marcos Pass would remain open for another hour.

[hits1000]

Top Songs of 1981

Top Songs of 1981 Top Songs of 1981 including: ABBA - One Of Us, AC/DC - Back In Black, Air Supply - The One That You Love, Alvin Stardust – Pretend, Aneka - Japanese Boy, Barbra Streisand – Memory, Billy Idol - Dancing With Myself, Billy Idol - Mony Mony, Boney M. - Malaika and many more! Subscribe to our channel to see more of our content! 1. ABBA - One Of Us 2. AC/DC - Back In Black 3. Air Supply - The One That You Love 4. Alvin Stardust - Pretend 5. Aneka - Japanese Boy 6. Barbra Streisand - Memory 7. Billy Idol - Dancing With Myself 8. Billy Idol - Mony Mony 9. Boney M. - Malaika 10. Boney M. - We Kill The World (Don't Kill the World) 11. Bruce Springsteen - Cadillac Ranch 12. Bruce Springsteen - The River 13. Bucks Fizz - Making Your Mind Up 14. Christopher Cross - Best That You Can Do 15. Coz - Las Chicas Son Guerreras 16. Dave Stewart & Barbara Gaskin - It's My Party 17. Def Leppard - Bringin' On The Heartbreak 18. Depeche Mode - Just Can't Get Enough 19. Diana Ross & Lionel Richie - Endless Love 20. Dire Straits – Tunnel Of Love 21. Duran Duran - Girls On Film 22. Earth, Wind & Fire - Let's Groove 23. Electric Light Orchestra - Hold On Tight 24. Falco - Der Kommissar 25. Foreigner - Urgent 26. Foreigner - Waiting For A Girl Like You 27. Frank Duval - Angel Of Mine 28. Fred Sonnenschein Und Seine Freunde – Ja, Wenn Wir Alle Englein Wären 29. Goombay Dance Band - Seven Tears 30. Herbert Léonard - Pour Le Plaisir 31. J.J. Lionel - La Danse Des Canards 32. Jean Schultheis - Confidence pour confidence 33. Joey Scarbury - Believe It Or Not (Greatest American Hero) 34. John Lennon - Woman 35. Journey - Don’t Stop Believin’ 36. Journey - Who’s Crying Now 37. Juice Newton - Angel Of The Morning 38. Juice Newton - Queen Of Hearts 39. Kim Carnes - Bette Davis Eyes 40. Kim Wilde - Cambodia 41. Kim Wilde - Chequered Love 42. Kim Wilde - Kids In America 43. Kool & The Gang - Get Down On It 44. Madness - It Must Be Love 45. Maria Jesús Y Su Acordeón - El Baile De Los Pajaritos 46. Men At Work - Down Under 47. Men At Work - Who Can It Be Now? 48. Milton Nascimento - Nos Bailes Da Vida 49. Nana Mouskouri - Je Chante Avec Toi Liberté 50. Olivia Newton-John - Physical 51. Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark - Maid Of Orleans 52. Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark - Souvenir 53. Paloma San Basilio - Juntos 54. Phil Collins - In The Air Tonight 55. Pino D'Angiò - Ma Quale Idea 56. Queen & David Bowie - Under Pressure 57. Rainbow - I Surrender 58. Ricchi E Poveri - M'innamoro Di Te 59. Ricchi E Poveri – Sarà Perché Ti Amo 60. Rick James - Super Freak 61. Rick Springfield - Jessie's Girl 62. Rita Lee - Baila Comigo 63. Roberto Carlos - Emoções 64. Rod Stewart - Young Turks 65. Shakin' Stevens - Green Door 66. Shakin' Stevens - This Ole House 67. Soft Cell - Tainted Love 68. Spider Murphy Gang - Skandal Im Sperrbezirk 69. Status Quo - Something 'Bout You Baby I Like 70. Styx - The Best Of Times 71. Sylvie Vartan - L'amour C'est Comme Une Cigarette 72. Tequila - Salta!! 73. The Cars - Shake It Up 74. The Human League - Don't You Want Me 75. The Police - Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic 76. The Rolling Stones - Start Me Up 77. The Stray Cats - Rock This Town 78. UHF - Cavalos de Corrida 79. Ultravox - Vienna 80. Vangelis - Chariots of Fire Related Searches: Greatest Hits of 1981, Best Jukebox 1981 Playlist, Late 1981 Non Stop , Top 1981 Non Stop, Mix 1981 Compilation, Best 1981 List, Late 1981 UK, Best 1981 Playlist, Best 1981 Non Stop, Best 1981 Video, Greatest 1981 Non Stop, Mix 1981 Playlist, Best Jukebox 1981 List, List of 1981 Mix, Top 1981 USA, Best Songs of 1981, Top Music 1981, Hits of 1981 Relate Hashtags: #songsof1981 #hits1981 #songs1981 #listof1981mix #hits1981 #bestsongs1981 #classic1981playlist #greatest1981nonstop #best1981list #best1981video #top1981mix #greatest1981video #mix1981playlist #top1981nonstop #mix1981compilation https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z26NF0F2j5s

[hotarutranslations]

Kitakyushu and Memories

Evening

Kitakyushu performance! Thank you very much!

Ikuta-san seemed to be having a lot of fun~💚 It had the feeling like it was a hometown performance💚

Lives is something that's alive.. I really felt that today It was fun, righttt

Today, I'm happy I was able to perform, something I've been alwaysss practicing lately🤫🤫

Even though I've been seriously practicing,

When I was practicing in the dressing room, everyone laughed

Even Ako-chan laughed at me

I've been practicing pretty seriously?

😕😕😕lol

The ramen everyone ate was delicious, right?

Also today everyone also did an Erairi🤎 Tomorrow, Rairi, happy birthday--🤎

I also ate pino with Maira today And I also had a café latte We took a video like it was a vlog

Memories🎈

Riding in the car yesterday, The backrest of the seat Akanechin was sitting in, was at a right angle lol

I wanted to recline my seat but couldn't find the lever, Akanechin's whining was funny,

I was going to turn the video, but Maria, who was sitting next to me, found the lever and was able to fold the seat down, Then I said, aah..it wasn't recording.. and so they did a take 2 for me

🤣🤣lol

I've watched it many times already, its so funny I'm crying🎈

When I started talking I thought I was being funny, When I was laughing like an orangutan, Nonaka and Akanechin super laughed at me🎈

Staff-san gave us pocky (balloon) Since I was taking a plane (to avoid it bursting), Ako-chan was doing her utmost to deflate the balloon in the dressing room

The way to pump air into was through a straw, Therefore the straw would probably let the air out, But there wasn't a straw, Apparently the air was released with a toothpick 🎈lol

Having 4 concerts over the weekend, Its amazzinggg lol But I've been doing the wholleee time,

Its just a bit more

Eeeh

Is there any cool Ishida left for everyone😌

Thank you very much for your support today as well!

Photobook On Sale🤍

Play▶️List

Graduation Announcement Blog🐣🪽

Morning Musume '24 Ishida Ayumi Graduation Commemoration "Graduaton Memorial CD"🍀

Preorder Deadline is November 22nd🍀

Also, older photos are being rereleased

📚 Released October 30th "Gekkan Entame" Ishida x Oda

→Thank you very much to the many who have already voiced having read it🎈

Releasing November 9th "BOMB" Ishida x Oda

→It has the atmosphere of loungewear~ so by all means🎈

Releasing November 15th "EX Taishuu" Ishida x Inoue x Yumigeta

→We had a talk about the album release, and towards my graduation🎈

Releasing November 22nd "Up To Boy" Ishida x Oda x Makino

→Everyone is wearing a blue outfit, There was dancing, emotions, and fun🎈

Preorders Ongoing Please Definitely Check It Out

. 🫶🏻

📺Morning Musume Happy Daisakusen

Show titled as such on Hulu-san👑 Streaming starts on October 19th

📺Sendai Broadcast "Ara Ara Kashiko"

I appear once a month as part of the AraKashi Family

The previous shows, and makings, are on OX VIDEO STORE!

📺Hello Pro Dance Every other Thursday at 11:30PM~

Season 12 will start airing, On October 17th (Thurs)🕺

Thank you for following.. Instagram💙🩵

💿 August 14th new single✨ "Nandaka Sentimental na Toki no Uta/saiKIYOU"

Thank you very much 🏅 For Oricon Weekly Chart #1🏅

💿November 27th New album✨

Professionals-17th

This is the last CD release for Ishida "Yuukan na Dance" is being performed at autumn tour It Includes 8 new songs, with a total of 13 songs

Look forward🕺

🪩"Morning Musume '24 Concert Tour Autumn WE CAN DANCE!"

Its Ishida Ayumi's last tour💙 I'm looking forward to seeing you

📻Morning Musume '24 Morning Jogakuin ~Houkago Meeting~

Airs Every Saturday, On Radio Nihon at 12:00AM~

Past Broadcast Episodes Are Available →Program Details

see you ayumin<3 https://ameblo.jp/morningmusume-10ki/entry-12874554756.html

[lboogie1906]

Melvin Van Peebles (Melvin Peebles; August 21, 1932 – September 21, 2021) was an actor, filmmaker, writer, and composer. His feature film debut, The Story of a Three-Day Pass, was based on his French-language novel La Permission and was shot in France, as it was difficult for an African American director to get work at the time. The film won an award at the San Francisco International Film Festival which gained him the interest of Hollywood studios, leading to his American feature debut Watermelon Man. Eschewing further overtures from Hollywood, he used the successes he had so far to bankroll his work as an independent filmmaker.

He is famous for creating (and starring in) the acclaimed film Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song, which heralded a new era of African American-focused films. He is the father of actor and director Mario Van Peebles.

Born in Chicago, he was the son of Edwin Griffin and Marion Peebles. His father was a tailor. He graduated with a BA in literature from Ohio Wesleyan University and joined the Air Force. He stayed for three and a half years.

He worked as a cable car gripman in San Francisco. He wrote about these experiences. His first book, The Big Heart, credited to Melvin Van, evolved from a small article and a series of photographs.

After he completed his first short films, he took them with him to Hollywood to try to find work but was unable to find anyone who wanted to hire him as a director. He decided to move his family to the Netherlands. On the way to Europe, he met Amos Vogel, founder of the avant-garde Cinema 16 who agreed to place two of his shorts in his rental catalog. Vogel screened his Three Pickup Men for Herrickat Cinema 16 on a program with City of Jazz in the spring of 1960 with James Baldwin leading a post-film discussion. He added the “Van” to his name.

He married Maria Marx. They lived in Mexico for a period in the late 1950s, where he painted portraits. Their son, actor, and director Mario Van Peebles was born while they resided in Mexico. The family returned to the US. He is survived by his sons, Mario and Max, and his daughter Marguerite. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[pandemicperipatetics]

Italy II: A Week Hiking the Dolomites (1/2)

View from Lago Fedaia at sunset

Our 6 day / 7 night “hut to hut” trek in the Dolomites was maybe the most epic hike I’ve done. We hiked 12-18 km / 2-3k feet of elevation per day with our hiking packs containing clothes, water, snacks, toiletries, gear, etc. – it was mostly manageable, occasionally easy, and at times quite difficult. The views were phenomenal and varied, reminding us of parts of some of our favorite hikes (the tea plantations of Munnar, glacial lakes of Banff and Glacier National Park, meadows of the Swiss Alps and parts of New Zealand, etc.).

I say “hut to hut” because the beautiful refugios we stayed in hardly qualify as huts – they were as nice as and probably cleaner than the U.S. national park hotels we’ve stayed in (Grand Canyon, Glacier), with hearty meals, friendlier owners/staff, and much lower prices. Many of them appeared to be family-run. We were pleasantly surprised by how comfortable the accommodations were relative to our low expectations.

View from the hike between Rifugio Sasso Piatto and Rifugio Antermoia (Day 5)

Logistics:

We booked the trip with MONT Trekking, which set our route and booked our lodging for us. This meant we basically did 0 planning, besides booking our travel to the Dolomites and buying the gear on MONT Trekking’s packing list.

For 5 of the nights we stayed in refugios (some had shared bathrooms and one was in a shared dorm) and for the 2 nights at the start and end of the trip we were in a simple hotel accessible by bus.

Since we went right at the beginning of the hiking season in the Dolomites (late June), some of our itinerary needed to be changed to avoid trails that were still impassable due to snow. It was helpful to have MONT Trekking’s guidance for this, and they were available 24/7 via WhatsApp to answer any questions. There was occasional cell service along the hike and at refugios, and some refugios had wifi.

Itinerary:

We hiked part of the Alta Via 2 route of the Dolomites. We started by the town of Karersee/Carezza (German/Italian) in South Tyrol, an autonomous province that was gifted to Italy by the Allies at the end of WWI. Although Tyrol is technically part of Italy, it sometimes felt more German than Italian, and both are official languages of the province.

Day 1: We took a bus from our hotel near Karersee to a place called Sauch, the starting point of the hike. We hiked for ~1/2 day, with some challenging uphills and downhills, to the incredibly scenic Rifugio Contrin. (Note: This rifugio can also be reached via cable car + a walk from the nearby town of Alba). The rifugio was comfortable, but a cautionary word, the food was the worst of our trip.

That time I hiked with a ninja...

Rifugio Contrin

Small side hike from Refugio Contrin

Our room at the refugio

Day 2: We hiked steeply uphill through a stunning valley from Rifugio Contrin via Rifugio San Nicolo to the town of Ciampie, where we stopped for a basic lunch. We then had a fun cable car ride down to the town of Alba, where we picked up another trail that was at first deceptively flat, and eventually took us very steeply, almost impossibly uphill, until we reached Rifugio Dolomia along Lago Fedaia. The lake was gorgeous at sunset, and this was my favorite rifugio – the people working there were so nice, the room had a private bathroom, there was a washer & dryer to clean our clothes, and unlike many places, they offered a nice assortment of fresh fruit & vegetables at meals.

En route to Rifugio Dolomia

Bulls hanging out near Alba

View of Rifugio Dolomia at sunset

Lago Fedaia at sunset

Day 3: From Rifugio Dolomia we hiked steeply, painfully uphill (Roy’s Peak vibes) until we reached a flat, crowded trail along the side of a cliff with stellar views (reminiscent of the Skyline Trail at Glacier). From there we descended steeply to Passo Pordoi, where we ate a decent lunch at Rifugio Maria. There was the option to take a cable car up to an even more scenic viewpoint, but it was a bit cloudy so we skipped this. We then took a short bus ride (due to snow blocking our original route) towards the town of Canazei, getting off along the way to hike a reasonably steady, unmemorable uphill to Passo Sella, where we stayed at Rifugio Valentini.

View of Lago Fedaia after our long ascent

Matchy match

Last long uphill to Passo Sella

The food at this rifugio was pretty good – the presentation was a bit fancy, and we were grateful to have fresh fruit for dessert given its rarity on our trip. That said, the staff were somewhat less friendly than elsewhere and it was our first time in a rifugio that didn’t offer any potable water other than the 1L glass bottles for 4 Euros. We instead stopped at the nice hotel a 10-min walk from our rifugio, where a kind staff member at the restaurant refilled our hiking water bladders with filtered water on tap.

Days 4-6 continued in the next post...

[iwantjobs]

5/23/2024: Morning humanity from homeless Trang taking off her anti-wrinkle tapes around the mouth to show the creases around her mouth in which the camera sometimes hide. Also, since I have a painful back which forces me to be parallel to the floor atleast 20 hours a day or I'll fall or crack out to let humans know to let me lay on the cement ground, the grass, and bench like a homeless if I am outside of the house or away from car. However, since I have less work to do now (lawsuits, rebuild my life to get out of being homeless, relinquish my genocide, gay, and Spanish as 2nd language American citizenship forever as the female Buddha into return to Vietnam if it's not too gay or else Cambodia or Laos, reduce fatness in America, reduce ugly postures among humans and aging humans, etc.), I can have some room on my mind to control my head to stop cracking out like a crackhead and simply say, "I need to lay my painful crippled backdown on the cement right now like a homeless or I'll fall and you will have to pay for my 911 visit.". On the other side, since God (the father of Jesus, not Jesus per the Bible) co karma crippled me because of my abortion sin around 3-5 months into the abortion by using the lost gay children to do the dirty work, laying down in the last 16 years reduce some sagginess of my face a bit so it makes me face more youthful than my peers.--Proof there's some green grass on the ugly side. Some weeks you will find me up more than 4 hours a day like last 1.5 weeks me out scouting for homeless as my future employees to gather more homeless to help other homeless to get off the street; however, I can only do it once every month or two month or else crack and threaten to kill people if I don't go away from them like now making a decision to be homeless in laat 1 week, or ill crash and kill people in a car accident, or ill gwr hit by a bus, train,or semi. Wearing a back brace, shoulder brace, cane helps reduce my pain outside but my tolerance for humans can only be tamed by staying away from them or taking mental pills. Thus, I prefer getting a job and produce tax for the government working at home that I buy or in my car. Part of my mental illness is humans for those humans (even doctors when I showed them my disability papers from the government) don't believe I became a disabled since I was bullied and sexually assaulted in e minor form by 3.1 gay children at Starbucks in San Francisco in 2008. Ok I'll reduce my pats on Tumblr now to focus on meeting people to get work now that most of my work is done as a crippled (90% is done, and this time 90% is the correct percentage for today, not 2-3 months ago) Trang at 51.16 years old. Off I stop complaining mys of as a victim of the gays and humans for my decision to stick to the hardcore heterosexual door of life, and life goes on with me working to move to Saint Joseph or San Jose as the female Buddha to see if I can handle the ugly side of my gook people, and if I can then, off I return to Vietnam if it's not too gay there for its getting to be the gayish Communist country thanks to the money of capitalism and the refugee money from western countries. Or else I'll go to Cambodia and Laos or Nepal (but I have to fight with China there), and I'll even go to Iran if all asian countries turn gay (I am crippled now so I don't mind staying at home, and I protect my skin from the cancerous sun rays from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. and dried wrinkles leathery skin like a hawk so I don't mind covering my body with black bed sheets). Anyhow the female Buddha has to be return to Asia folks for the Americas and Western nations are Jesus, Maria, and Jewish territories.