#wednesday 19

[murderdrones-obsessed-cat]

>:)

[propertyofjameswilson]

Season three James Wilson sticking out his tongue collection

[xylo-art]

LET ME COOK

[ignore how badly the gif converter compressed this...]

[jtl-fics]

Happy wednesday Ash! You know me I'm gonna be asking for New Kingss.

12/18/24 WIP Wednesday (CLOSED) | New Kings AU

“You didn’t even mention it to them?” Kevin asks, bewildered.

“Why would I? I wasn’t interested in playing stickball as a job.” Andrew says and Seth rolls his eyes but halfway through he sees Neil smiling at Andrew at the statement, as if it was good that he didn’t care about the sport that they were all here to play.

“Wasn’t?” Neil asks and Seth realizes the past tense.

“Shut up.” Andrew looks away.

Merry WIPMAS! Check out what is on offer: HERE

[zmediaoutlet]

"So how was it?" Dean says.

Sam squints at him. Crazy-bright day, light reflecting off every car, bouncing back from the license plate frame on the Buick in front of them. "How was what?"

He gets a significant look but then there's a honk and Dean waves irritably at the guy behind them, moves forward a half car-length like that means something. Sam said they should've just taken 87 instead of the state highway, but apparently that wouldn't have been as good a drive, so here they are, bumper to bumper. Some accident they can't see up ahead.

"Dean," Sam says, when they're essentially parked again. "How was what?"

Dean stretches back, knees spread wide around the steering wheel. "Uh, let's see," he says, and sucks his lower lip like he's really thinking. "The tonsil hockey? The tongue tango? The vertical v-grab—"

"You're the worst," Sam says, loudly, and Dean grins whitely out at the traffic. Relaxed. Probably more relaxed now that Sam feels blood rising in his cheeks, like he really did something. The dick. They roll forward another few feet and Sam braces his elbow on the open window, looking out at the growing green, the budding trees. Springtime in upstate New York, not the worst it could be.

"Sarah seemed like she'd be good at it," Dean says. Sam rolls his eyes, smacks vaguely to his left, catches leather jacket. Dean swats his hand away. "Hey, that ain't a dig. I admire a chick who'll really go for it. And, buddy, the way she was looking at you."

Sometimes it's like he thinks Sam's blind. Like, the only reason is that he doesn't notice. He sucks the inside of his cheek, squints out at the random field out past the highway. Cows, in the distance. "She was good at it," he says, finally. Soft where it counted, confident in the way that a lot of gorgeous girls are. Curving into his body but not limp or just opening her mouth for it and waiting for him to be done. Her tongue tasted like earl grey tea. He can taste it now, and rubs his fingers over his mouth.

Dean's been quiet, letting off the brake and rolling forward a carlength at a time. "You want to…" he starts, but what goes there? They weren't going to stay. They never were. Even an extra day didn't make sense, because what was going to happen—Sam taking the open invite, letting himself try, knowing that in the motel across town Dean was cooling his heels with motel porn and a takeout pizza, waiting for Sam to shoot his load so they'd be ready to pack up and leave the state? No, that wasn't going to happen. Not fair to Sarah, no matter if Sam explained the score, and it wasn't fair to Sam, and it wasn't fair, either, to…

More honking, somewhere behind them. They check the rearview at the same time, annoyed, and Dean mutters, "Like that helps?"

Sam turns on his side of the bench, putting his back to the window. Dean glances at him and then looks back out at the cars, frowning. "What do you think I'm missing?" Sam says. "With this stuff. Perfume? Long hair?"

"Perfume I can do, but I draw the line at wearing a wig for you," Dean says. Sam huffs and Dean glances over at him again, smiling. Kind of smiling anyway. "Not trying to—to be weird about it, or pick a fight or anything, Sammy. I just know you wanted…" He shakes his head, slouches back on the bench with two fingers hooked low on the steering wheel. "I don't want you to be—missing anything. I know, we got a job, and it's important. I'm not, like, trying to get you to move into a two-bedroom in New Paltz. I just don't want you to hate this any more than you do already."

Traffic judders to a halt again. Sam nods, looks out at the blinding chrome. His eyes smart. He sniffs, and drags his hand over his face, and then leans over the bench seat and gets his hand on Dean's jaw and turns his face and kisses him. Dean's lips startle open and Sam closes his eyes and licks in, pressing deep, Dean's hand gripping his jacket and Dean's breath filling his mouth. Coffee, salt. Sam tips so his forehead's against Dean's, their noses brushing. "Don't worry about what I'm missing," Sam says.

Dean's knuckles against his chest. He breathes in, shaky.

Honking. Dean takes a quick deep breath and pulls back, doesn't look at Sam. Traffic opening maybe, a little, ahead. They slide forward a car-length and then another. "Might make it to Allentown before dark after all," he says. His ear's pink. Sam sits back into the corner of the bench and smiles at the side of his head. "Shut up," Dean says, and Sam smiles out the window instead, the grown-grass verge starting to blur as they pick up speed. He wasn't going to say a thing.

[bulllinachinashop]

Why do the years 2020 and 2019 seem so long ago? Whenever someone mentions “yeah 2019 I did-“ oh you mean during the depression? the invisible plague that wreaked havoc across the globe? do you still feel 17? 12? 18? 26? Your’e older know, not just physically, mentally you’ve aged fifty years. 2019 wasn’t five years ago, it was a lifetime ago, it was another world ago, another you. I mourn each time you mention it.

[clogginbloggingoggin]

happy walton wednesday!

hope you’re all as happy as walt in this pic! ☀️

[cypherdecypher]

Animal of the Day!

Bushy-tailed Woodrat (Neotoma cinerea)

(Photo from National Parks Service)

Conservation Status- Least Concern

Habitat- Western Canada; Northwestern United States

Size (Weight/Length)- 40 cm

Diet- Fruits; Leaves; Insects; Seeds

Cool Facts- Bushy-tailed woodrats, like many other species of rodent, thrive in human altered environments. Normally, these woodrats live in canyons and rocky areas but readily make homes in mines or old buildings. Being mostly nocturnal, a bushy-tailed woodrat could be sharing your attic and you would never know. Bushy-tailed woodrats rarely have to drink and get the majority of their water from eating succulents and sagebrush. Males are highly territorial but females are very chill. The female offspring of a mother will often create overlapping territories and occasionally share food stashes with each other. When females make a nest for their babies, it is done 15 meters up a pinetree.

Rating- 11/10 (When threatened, they drum their hind foot.)

[cloudman070]

Enid Sinclair has beef with squirrels and chipmunks it’s on sight whenever she sees one Wednesday has or at least attempted to stop multiple altercations between Enid and squirrels

(Thank you for coming to my TedTalk)

[holycatsandrabbits]

Hey, y’all, it’s Weird Wednesday! Where on some Wednesdays, I blog about weird stuff and give writing prompts.

Today: The Disappearance of Flight 19: The Bermuda Triangle’s Most Bizarre Mystery (Even Without Aliens)

Welcome on this Weird Wednesday! Today we’re taking a flight into the Bermuda Triangle in search of what is probably its most famous “paranormal” disappearance: Flight 19.

Flight 19 was actually a group of five US Navy planes on a training exercise on December 5, 1945. They vanished somewhere off the coast of Florida with the loss of 14 men. Why is Flight 19 so famous? Because after the disappearance, people made up a bunch of stuff about space aliens. No, really.

“Everything looks wrong, strange, the ocean doesn’t look as it should. Don’t come after us. They look like they’re from outer space!”

Yeah, so nobody actually said that. Magazine and book writers made it up (as we writers tend to do, only it’s probably better if we admit it). But Flight 19 really did disappear. So what happened? Here's what we know:

Flight 19 was led by US Navy Lieutenant Charles Carroll Taylor. The other aviators were his student pilots for the exercise, and their crews. They took off around 2 pm from Ft. Lauderdale, Florida.

Lt. Taylor was having a very confusing flight. The training exercise involved flying east to the Bahamas, then north for a while, then southwest to complete the triangle and return to Florida. But when Taylor reached the Bahamas by flying east, he somehow thought he was 200 miles to the southwest, over the Florida Keys. So then he tried to take the flight east to the mainland. But of course, east from the Bahamas will lead you out to open ocean, and that’s where Flight 19 ended up.

No one knows how Taylor made the bizarre error and why he stuck to his strange belief of being over the Keys in the face of mounting contrary evidence. It’s possible his compass may have been broken, and he may not have had a watch to help with dead reckoning. But when the mainland of Florida did not appear below, he should have believed what his eyes were telling him. In fact, it’s such an inconceivable mistake that writers made up aliens to explain it.

Check out the blog post for the whole story and some writing prompts, such as: 

“The ocean doesn’t look as it should.” This fake quote has a lot of possibilities. One way to go would be to have something Very Seriously Wrong with the ocean: for example, it’s red, it’s boiling, or it’s not the ocean anymore but some strange landscape. Or you could have things gradually get creepy, slowly building dread. For example, what if every once in a while, the waves run backwards, like you’re watching a video rewind? Or if the water looks normal, but it seems thicker, moving more like honey?

DannyeChase.com ~ AO3 ~ Linktree ~ Weird Wednesday writing prompts blog ~ Resources for Writers 

Image credit

[seniouesbabes]

Lily Maymac 🌸🍒💋🌸 To all the aussies:

Join this @gaustralia comp to win a new #LGOLEDevo tv!

Just comment on this reel 😇

[sensitivedead]

flash memory of my dad absolutely obliterating my adolescent eardrums with money - pink floyd in his 1984 teal mazda b2000

[duhragonball]

November Plannin'

All right, I've been thinking it over, and I think I'm gonna have to pull the plug on my NaNoWriMo account. The AI thing irks me, because to me the organization seems to think that it doesn't matter if you use Chat GPT or some other damn thing to reach the goal. And I do think it matters, because to me the whole point of the exercise is that those 50,000 words come from me, and me alone. The only software I need is Notepad.exe. I only downloaded iA Writer because it was like a Notepad.exe for my phone, and I got FocusWriter because it's like Notepad.exe with a wordcounter.

I've heard about the Nano community, and the writing groups, and the public meet-ups, and I'm not knocking any of that stuff, but I never had any interest in that. I just used the website to keep score, and I guess that's what bugs me, because by refusing to condemn AI, they're basically insinuating that the score doesn't matter. "It doesn't matter what you wrote." Someone told me that once and it still gets me kinda hot.

NaNoWriMo doesn't care if I write the words or not. All the org seems to care about is having participants who'll buy the merch and click on their sponsors, or whatever. They're gonna do this shady crap and they take the participants for granted. "What are you gonna do? Leave? You need us to reach your writing goals!"

That's the message I get from them. That's what made me reluctant to decide, because it is handy, and there's a certain anxiety that if I give up the structure the site offers, I might not reach my goal.

And that's the "creative monster" I need to slay this year. When I was in college, I took a semester of creative writing, and there was an assignment called "Killing the Creative Monster", and I interpreted it as a sense of not having enough time to write. Things kept happening, and the stuff I wanted to do seemed like it would take too long with no certainty that it would be worthwhile. That was in 1998. In 2024, the Creative Monster is the idea that I'm dependent on NanoWriMo to get me where I'm want to be.

So I'm gonna close down my account on the site. But I'm not doing it right away, because first I'm gonna save all the stats and stuff that belong to me. We'll start with the banner image I put up on my profile.

This is Zack Sabre Junior. This year, he won the G1 Climax tournament. He made a big deal about how his career wouldn't be complete until he won the G1. Not just any G1, but this year's tournament. I just put this picture in my profile because I was digging his tag team stuff with Taichi a few years ago, but suddenly I'm reminded of him winning the G1 this year. It was a big deal. He's the first guy to win that I actually wanted to win.

I've won NanoWriMo seven times from 2017 to 2023. But that doesn't matter. Unless I win Unaffiliated Autumnal Writing Challenge (UAWC) in 2024, I'll always feel a bit unsatisfied. That's what this one is about. No pep talks from some author I never heard of because I'm too busy watching anime to read. No funky word-count widget that always malfunctions around midnight. Just me and this computer, and a bunch of tekkers. That's how we're gonna do this one.

Good. I finally feel fired up about this one. I was beginning to get nervous. Let's figure out what I need to work on.

Luffa Annual 6. Ironically, this one actually takes priority over the main fic, becuase it's the Christmas Special, so it has a hard deadline. I was gonna work on it last week, but I kind of blew it off.

I don't know that the annuals are all that popular, but I enjoy making them, even if they are a huge pain in the butt to figure out. I'm glad this is the last one in the set, but I won't just slap it together and call it good.

Tellurium. This is a weird side-bet I'm making here. On my main blog, I used to do a series on the discovery of the chemical elements, and this was the next one on my list back in, uh... 2016. The tricky thing here is that the writing is just part of the job. There's research that goes into this stuff, and I don't want to get lose a days' worth of wordcount trying to wrap my head around molecular orbitals. Call me a glutton for punishment. It'd be relatively easy to just do 10-12 Luffa chapters and call it a month, because I've done that before. I feel like this year needs to be trickier. Also, I really, really want to get Te in the books. I don't think I like the chemical elements more than Luffa, but it is telling that I'm even having that conversation with myself right now.

Luffa 225-234. Of course I still plan to stick with what brung me to the dance. Kakarot is behind me but this fic isn't finished. The problem is that I only have a nebulous plan on where to go from here, and it's coming together a lot more gradually than I thought it would. I plotted a cool scene on my commute this afternoon, so that's a good sign, but I need to be realistic here. Last year went really well because I was writing the Luffa vs. Goku fight that I had been dreaming of for years. Motivation-wise, I've got nowhere to go but down. But I had similar problems in 2018-2020, and I prevailed then.

That Bulma project I was horsing around with. Last year, there was some crank on Twitter getting pissy at anyone who shipped Bulma with any non-canon partners, like there's a rule or something. That kind of inspired me to try to do some shorter works featuring Bulma hooking up with different characters. I didn't get very far last year, but I liked having a side-thing that I could jump into whenever I got stuck with the main work.

You know, thinking about it, I really need to use 2025 to work on some non-Luffa fanfic. In the early years, I worried that working on a longfic would eat up time that I could use for one-shots, and I slowly acclimated to just focusing one thing. But now that the Goku fight is done, the pressure is off to finish Luffa before I die. I mean, it's still not finished, but the Goku fight was a major milestone, and I didn't like the idea of never getting that done.

I mean, I still get kudos on that Caulikale fic I wrote in 2018, and the Gochi thing I did. People like that stuff, and I'm pretty good at making it. Maybe I should run a poll.

I dunno, that's probably enough for now. I should go back to bed. But I feel a lot better about November than I did a few days ago, that's for sure.

[jtl-fics]

Happy WIP Wednesday!!! Can I have some TBD ??

11/20/24 WIP Wednesday (Closed) | TBD AU

“That’s different, it was just recess.” Dion grumbles even as Jackson tickles his sides.

Before anything else could be said the press conference started up properly. Neil had been the one who had insisted that they watch it, wanting to know what was going to be done. The look in Neil’s eyes let Andrew know that he likely wasn’t going to be satisfied with anything less than a public execution.

Which Andrew is pretty sure isn’t up for consideration.

The first five minutes are meaningless apologies from the Chicago Pumas and their announcement that they would be penalized as if they had lost twice instead of just once against the Wolves. There were additional sanctions against their teams but Andrew had mostly zoned out as the officials listed everything.

[oldfashionedmorphine]

Lures you in with something cute…. 😈

for i’m a wreck (without you here)

tagging my fans: @across-thestars @boahey @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @rebellius @booksandpaperss @greenfiend @sparks-olivarpente

[belvedia02]

Día 27: Rainy Day

Fandom: Wednesday TV 2022

Relationship: Wednesday Addams & Enid Sinclair

Words: 1,532

Resumen: Enid permanece junto a Wednesday en un día de lluvia.

____________________

Wednesday esa mañana lluviosa despertó algunas horas más tarde de su hora acostumbrada, esa noche no pudo conciliar el sueño hasta altas horas de la madrugada, el motivo no fue la intensa lluvia de la noche, porque le agrada el sonido de las gotas cuando arremetieron con fuerza en su techo, ni los apacibles escenarios que se imaginó antes de caer en la inconsciencia del sueño por la influencia de sus visiones de este último tiempo, la razón era la presencia de Enid, quien la tenía abrazada y Wednesday no pudo zafarse de su cálido abrazo porque cada vez que lo intentaba Enid murmuraba su nombre o más bien, una abreviación y la sujetaba con más fuerza. 

Wednesday no tenía deseos de alejarse de Enid, sin embargo, su cuerpo le pedía una taza de café y también estaba pensando en los motivos de Enid para estar aquí, recordó que ella misma evitó el tema, la razón es bastante simple, ella no necesitaba oír alguna excusa por parte de Enid para estar con ella, porque Wednesday, se estaba preparando para ir a buscarla cuando Enid se presentó en su puerta. 

Wednesday giró su vista hacia la derecha, casi tocando sus frentes, si ella lo deseaba incluso podría hasta besarla, pero ese gesto físico y que demostraría el afecto que siente por ella, tenía otro escenario, por ahora solo tendría que esperar que los sucesos previos se fueran desarrollando de forma natural entre ellas. 

Wednesday sujetó otra vez la muñeca derecha de Enid que estaba por encima de su cintura y logró liberarse de ese suave apretón.  Enid se giró hacia el lado contrario y siguió durmiendo. 

Wednesday salió en silencio, caminó hasta la cocina para revisar su despensa y preparar un desayuno para Enid, vio que tenía los suficientes ingredientes para hacer pancakes. Así que ella comenzó a mezclar la harina, el azúcar y la sal. 

Enid parpadeo un par de veces antes de estar completamente consciente del lugar donde estaba, ella se cubrió el rostro con la almohada, la que usó Wednesday y aspiró su aroma, sintiéndose afortunada. 

Enid estiró los brazos deseando quedarse más tiempo en ese cálido lugar, pero debía volver al lugar donde estaba su tienda de campaña para saber el estado de todo lo que estaba dentro de allí y tampoco deseaba incomodar a Wednesday imponiendo su presencia. Cuando salió del dormitorio, pudo sentir un agradable aroma, así que ella fue hasta el lugar de donde provenía, la cocina y vio a Wednesday sujetando el sartén. 

Una vista que podría acostumbrarme. Pensó mientras se acercaba. 

—Buenos días Wednesday—. Enid inclinó su cabeza para besar la mejilla de Wednesday, pero detuvo bruscamente esa acción y retrocedió un par de pasos, ruborizándose levemente.  

Wednesday estaba concentrada en freír la masa que no escuchó cuando Enid entró en la cocina y se sorprendió cuando habló —¿Te gustan los pancakes?— Fue su saludo. 

—¡Me fascinan!—. Enid diría eso si también le ofreciera cereales o frutas como su primer alimento del día, después de varias horas de comer solo malvaviscos. 

Wednesday siguió preparando un par más y los fue apilando en un plato para finalmente agregar miel. Enid se acercó a la pequeña mesa y se sentó en una de las dos sillas que estaban situadas una frente a la otra. 

Wednesday le sirvió el plato a Enid junto con un tenedor, ella de inmediato comió una gran porción. 

—Exquisito—. Enid dijo con dificultad porque todavía estaba masticando. Wednesday dejó la taza de té en la mesa, antes de buscar la suya y sentarse a desayunar con Enid. 

—No recordaba la receta con exactitud, pero es tan simple que cualquiera que tenga un mínimo de habilidades en la cocina es capaz de prepararlos—. Wednesday conocía otra variedad de esa receta, una que preparaba su abuela cuando iba de visita, sin embargo, ella reemplaza y agregaba otros ingredientes más acorde con su gusto por lo picante.    

—¿Vas a probarlos?— Enid preguntó después de casi comer la mitad de ellos. 

—No, estoy bien con mi café—. Wednesday bebió un gran sorbo y siguió observando a Enid quien tosió un par de veces porque casi se ahoga por comer tan deprisa.

—¿Estás bien?— Wednesday solo la miró porque no era un caso extremo para que ella aplicara la técnica de Heimlich.  

—Sí—. Enid dijo con dificultad después de toser una vez más y bebió un sorbo de té. 

Su desayuno transcurrió con tranquilidad por momentos la lluvia era más fuerte, un excelente ruido de fondo para una apacible primera actividad del día.  

—Gracias por todo Wednesday, no solo por el desayuno, también por dejarme alojar contigo anoche, lo aprecio bastante—. Enid terminó su agradecimiento con una sonrisa que mostraba sus relucientes dientes y que Wednesday recién pudo notar que sus colmillos eran unos milímetros más largos que para un ser humano normal. 

—Yo—. Wednesday tuvo que toser para aclarar su voz, porque estaba fascinada con la apariencia casi salvaje de Enid.— No debes darme tantos agradecimientos. 

Enid se levantó de su silla, ya era el momento para salir y verificar las cosas que dejó abandonadas anoche.

—¿Dónde vas?— Wednesday parpadeó , porque creyó que compartirían unos momentos más hablando y conociéndose mejor.

—Debo ver qué tanto daño hizo la tormenta de anoche a la tienda—. Wednesday estuvo de acuerdo y volvió a ofrecer una de sus pocas prendas de ropa que eran lo suficientemente grandes para Enid. Una vez más le ofreció el cuarto de baño para cambiarse y ella lo haría en su dormitorio. Luego de algunos minutos volvieron a encontrarse en la sala principal.

—Tus botas están afuera y tu abrigo todavía está húmedo—. Wednesday vio a Enid con su buzo deportivo negro y con sus pies descalzos, su cabello lo había atado en una media cola baja. 

—Supongo que nos veremos un día de estos—. Enid estaba cerca de la puerta y era las únicas palabras de despedida que verbalizó, sin demostrar su anhelo por permanecer refugiada este día de lluvia en compañía de Wednesday.

—Te acompañaré—. Wednesday le mostró su gran paraguas negros.

—¿Irás conmigo?, no deseo molestarte más—. Enid se alegró profundamente de caminar bajo la lluvia junto a Wednesday. 

Wednesday no contestó sino que se acercó a la puerta y la abrió, haciendo un gesto de Enid para que viera dónde están sus botas, junto a las suyas. 

Enid fue la encargada de llevarlo, caminaron juntas, tocando sus brazos y dependiendo del ritmo sus manos se rozaron algunas veces,  disfrutaron del sonido de la lluvia sobre la tela del paraguas, por lo que se les hizo demasiado pronto cuando vieron que la tienda de Enid permanecía en el mismo lugar. 

—Soy una buena campista después de todo—. Wednesday sostuvo el paraguas mientras Enid ingresó a la tienda, y encontró que si bien la tienda no fue derribada por los fuertes vientos, sí en en la parte trasera logró colarse el agua, mojando su bolsa de dormir y algunos pantalones y sweaters. Ella no dejó ninguno en su auto, donde podrían estar a salvo.

—Tal parece que tendrás que secar tu ropa en la cabaña—. Wednesday lo decía con sinceridad y no como sarcasmo porque Enid sí falló en algo tan fundamental como verificar el estado de la tienda en una noche de tormenta. 

—A este paso nos convertiremos en roomies—. Enid sonrió nerviosamente, suponiendo que Wednesday quizás no entienda el subtexto que hay detrás de esa simple frase.

—Serás la primera que pueda ostentar ese privilegio—. Wednesday estaba buscando una bolsa plástica para llevarse la ropa e indicando a Enid que es mejor desarmar su tienda y guardar todo en su auto, si no deseaba que algún animal del bosque vistiera sus ropas o se las comiera. 

Enid se ruborizó aún más, pero de inmediato hizo caso a las palabras de Wednesday y ordenó con rapidez y lo guardó todo en el maletero del auto.

—Es más cómodo que ir caminando—. Enid abrió la puerta del conductor y soltó su cabello para moverlo y así quitar el agua. Wednesday no daría toda la vuelta, cerró el paraguas y se sentó detrás de Enid, además era un trayecto corto. 

Enid estacionó cerca de la entrada de la cabaña, para evitar caminar demasiado tiempo bajo la lluvia, Wednesday sí abrió el paraguas porque debían sacar la bolsa con la ropa. Todos esos movimientos estaban tan coordinados que lograron evitar mojarse, solo Enid que ya tenía su cabello húmedo. 

Volvieron a dejar las botas cerca de la puerta junto con el paraguas y entraron. Wednesday sin soltar la bolsa caminó hasta la otra puerta que tenía la cabaña, hacia el sitio donde almacenaba la leña, un lugar adecuado para secar la ropa. Enid esta vez no se quedó esperando a Wednesday en la puerta, fue hasta la chimenea y movió la leña y la encendió. No tuvo mayores inconvenientes.

—Eres una estudiante aventajada—. Wednesday le dijo como una forma de felicitarla y se acercó. 

—Tengo una excelente maestra—. Enid movió sus manos cerca del fuego. 

Wednesday una vez más no dudo en calificar a los días de lluvia como sus favoritos, menos en este instante que estaba acompañada de la mujer de sus visiones. 

____________________

Gracias por leer

Parte 5/8 de esta última historia.