#radio panama

[apptworadioapps]

Panama Radio Stations FM & AM + Radio Online - (Radio Android Application 🇵🇦📻)

 ure, here's an article about the radio stations in Panama:

Panama is a country located in Central America, known for its rich history, diverse culture, and beautiful natural landscapes. One of the most popular forms of entertainment in Panama is radio broadcasting. There are many radio stations in Panama that cater to different interests, including news, music, sports, and more.

One of the most popular radio stations in Panama is Radio Panamá, which is part of the state-owned National Radio and Television System. Radio Panamá broadcasts news, music, and other programs in both Spanish and English. It is known for its comprehensive coverage of local and international news, as well as its variety of music programs.

Another popular radio station in Panama is KW Continente, which broadcasts a mix of news, music, and entertainment. KW Continente is known for its popular morning show "El Mañanero," which features a mix of news, interviews, and comedy skits.

For those who are interested in sports, there is RPC Radio, which is dedicated to sports news and coverage. RPC Radio broadcasts live coverage of local and international sporting events, as well as interviews with athletes and sports experts.

If you're looking for music, there are many radio stations in Panama that cater to different genres. For example, FM Corazón is a popular radio station that plays romantic ballads and love songs. La Mega is another popular radio station that plays a mix of pop, rock, and electronic music.

In addition to these popular radio stations, there are many other stations in Panama that cater to different interests and communities. For example, there are radio stations that broadcast in indigenous languages, such as Ngäbere and Emberá. There are also radio stations that cater to specific regions or cities, such as Radio Chiriquí and Radio Azul.

Overall, radio broadcasting is a popular and diverse form of entertainment in Panama. Whether you're interested in news, sports, music, or entertainment, there is a radio station in Panama that caters to your interests.

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[metapolitica-y-ufologia-5h1]

#Estreno DE LUJO #NewRelease

en cabina Pablo Santa Cruz de Apus de Bolivia y DIME LA VERDAD

Nueva Musica

@apus_de_bolivia @pablosantacruz_

escucha y comparte:

📆 MIERCOLES 20:00:00 Bol

🌐 www.cesarradiorock.com

Gracias WebHosting Bolivia - HABILWEB - SISBolivia

https://www.facebook.com/apusdebolivia3/?mibextid=ZbWKwL

[anim-ttrpgs]

Songs for Eureka Sessions: Investigation Scenes (low-stakes) or Meal Scenes

Masterpost of Eureka song lists & how to choose good music for any TTRPG session.

Douglas' Blues - Parasite Eve II

Out of Phase - Parasite Eve

Alone in Town - Silent Hill 2

Reasoning - Death Note

Something Stirring - Scooby-doo

Snooping Around - Scooby-doo

Another Mystery - Scooby-doo

Pandering - Scooby-doo

Arriving at the Scene - Scooby-doo

Grounds of Mystery - Scooby-doo

Puzzle 1 - Puzzle Agent

Puzzle 2 - Puzzle Agent

Puzzle 3 - Puzzle Agent

Puzzle 4 - Puzzle Agent

Puzzle 5 - Puzzle Agent

Puzzle 8 - Puzzle Agent

Puzzle 11 - Puzzle Agent

Freshly Squeezed - Twin Peaks

The Zombie - Kolchak: The Night Stalker

Legacy of Terror - Kolchak: The Night Stalker

Mr. R I N G - Kolchak: The Night Stalker

Chopper - Kolchak: The Night Stalker

Deep Cover - Hotline Miami

A Stray Child - Silent Hill 3

Whirling-In-Rags - Disco Elysium

The Stalkers - Dredge

Little Dark Age (instrumental) - Mgmt

Kitty Horrorshow - Tenement

The Process - The Big O

Nevermore - autoisolation

Into the Mist - autoisolation

Clues 08 - L.A. Noire

Clues 04 – L.A. Noire

Safe Room - Signalis

Ritual – Signalis

Intro – Death Note

Max: Panama – Max Payne 3

E5M3 – Sigil

Max Payne Theme – Max Payne

Cannot Hear – Monster

Dogtective - Louie Zong

Clues 01 – L.A. Noire

Clues 02 – L.A. Noire

Floor 6, Please – Atrium Carceri

Norwegian Horror Saga – Manet

End of Small Sanctuary – Silent Hill 3

Fear of the Dark – Silent Hill

Tears of – Silent Hill

Otherside – Silent Hill

Delirious and Devoured – Manet

Aucun Cave

The Obsession Begins Tomorrow - Shadowdream

Der Angler – Bohren & Der Club of Gore

The First Pain – Heroin and Your Veins

Secret – Somewhere off Jazz Street

Ulterior Motives – autoisolation

Lights Out – Cities Last Broadcast

Street Tattoo – Bohren & Der Club of Gore

Constant Fear – Bohren & Der Club of Gore

Nighthawks – Lowering

Vendredi Noir – Manet

Radio Silence – Joal Fausto & Illusion Orchestra

Sand in Lungs – Heroin and Your Veins

Intoxication – Heroin and Your Veins

Bad Luck – Heroin and Your Veins

Full Moon and Dry Humour – Heroin and Your Veins

Miles to Midnight – Atrium Cerceri, Cities Last Broadcast, and God Body Disconnect

Sorry Sir, You Are in the Wrong Room – Atrium Carceri

Daisuke – Hotline Miami

Hotline – Hotline Miami

Crystals – Hotline Miami

Electric Dreams – Perturbator

It’s Safe Now – Hotline Miami

Interlude – Hotline Miami 2

Rust – El Huervo

Ghost Town – Parasite Eve II

Gentle, Two – Kairo

Untitled 2 – The Green Kingdom

Sigh of Relief – Parasite Eve II

Rain of Brass Petals – Silent Hill 3

Morning Calm – Silent Hill 2

Rusty Lake Theme – Victor Butzelaar

Guided Meditation – Old Future Fox Gang

Sherry’s Theme – Resident Evil 2

A Cold Day in Hell – Max Payne

Ada’s Theme – Resident Evil 2

Tailing a Lead – L.A. Noire

Mona: The Professional – Max Payne 2

Address Unknown – Max Payne 2

Hourglass – The Guest

Omniverse – The Guest

The Marshalling Yard (Latter Half) – Resident Evil 2

Bless This Mess – West of Loathing: Reckonin’ at Gun Manor

[louisupdates]

FITFWT24: MASTERPOST

FASHION [x]

LITHOGRAPHS [x]

PORTRAITS [x]

OUTRO SONGS [x]

TWITTER SPREE 23.1.2024

John Delf/ Sennheiser interview: FITFWT Sound Engineering

FESTIVALS

FITFWT23

LOUIS TOMLINSON LIVE - 24.4.2024: Fan videos vs Spotify canvas

ASIA

24 Jan - Bengkel Space SCBD, JAKARTA: video 1, video 2, video 3

AUSTRALIA

28 Jan - Sidney Myer Music Bowl, MELBOURNE (fitfwt24: melbourne)

30 Jan - Riverstage, BRISBANE (#fitfwt24: brisbane)

2 Feb - Qudos Bank Arena, SYDNEY (#fitfwt24: sydney)

TEKATE PAL NORTE FESTIVAL

30 Mar - MONTERREY, MEXICO (cap. 80k) (#fitfwt24: tecate) (PRESS CONFERENCE) MTY 360, Tiempo, El Ambiente, Reforma

IHEART RADIO AWARDS - 1 APR 2023: Joshua Halling wins Best Tour Photographer

PRE-TOUR PRESS RUN, LATAM

2 Apr - SÃO PAULO, Brazil: Radio Mix FM, Foquinha, MTV Brazil, CNN Brazil, Capricho, POPLine Brazil, g1, Nickelodeon, Billboard Br

4 Apr - SANTIAGO, Chile: Los 40 Chile, CNN Chile, Canal 13, Bio Bio Chile, La Cuarta, Radio Disney Chile, Radio Planeta

6 Apr - BUENOS AIRES, Argentina: Los 40 Argentina, TN La Viola, HeinowPY, MTV Sur, Clarín, Sergio Aguero, TELESHOW, #velez sarafield stadium, Esto es Datta, Tu Musica Hoy, Telenoche, Canal 13, Billboard Argentina, Algos De Musica, Radio Disney LA

NORTHERN MUSIC AWARDS - 23 APR 2023: raffle (#northern music awards)

LOUIS IGTV - 27.4.2024

LATAM - IGTV with transcription 27.6.2024

2 May - Centro de Convenciones Amador, PANAMA CITY (#fitfwt24: panama)

5 May - Coliseo de Puerto Rico, SAN JUAN (#fitfwt24: san juan)

8 May - Jeunesse Arena, RIO DE JANEIRO (#fitfwt24: rio de janeiro)

11 May - Allianz Parque, SÃO PAULO (#fitfwt24: são paulo)

12 May - Ligga Arena Cap, CURITIBA (#fitfwt24: curitiba)

15 May - Antel Arena, MONTEVIDEO: (#fitfwt24: montevideo)

18 May - Velez Sarsfield, BUENOS AIRES: (#fitfwt24: buenos aires)

21 May - Jockey Club del Paraguay, ASUNCIÓN: (#fitfwt24: asuncion)

24 May - Bicentenario Stadium, SANTIAGO (#fitfwt24: santiago)

26 May - Arena 1, LIMA: (#fitfwt24: lima)

28 May - Coliseo Medplus, BOGOTÁ: (#fitfwt24: bogota)

30 May - Parque Viva, SAN JOSE: (#fitfwt24: san jose)

1 Jun - Autodrómo Hermanos Rodriguez - Curva 4, MEXICO CITY: (#fitfwt24: mexico city)

4 Jun - Auditorio Josefa Ortiz de Domínguez, QUERETARO: (#fitfwt24: queretaro)

6 Jun - Arena VFG, GUADALAJARA: (#fitfwt24: guadalajara)

AWAY FROM HOME FESTIVAL

8 JUN - MERIDA, Mexico (cap. 10k+): (#afhf 2024)

EUROS 2024 (#louiseuros24)

PINKPOP FESTIVAL

22 Jun - LANDGRAAF, Netherlands (cap. 70k): 17:55 to 18:55 (#louispinkpop24)

GLASTONBURY 2024 (#louisglasto24)

MAIN SQUARE FEST

4 Jul - ARRAS, France (cap. 40k): 18:15 to 19:15 (#louismainsq24)

RUISROCK FESTIVAL

7 Jul - Ruissalo Island, TURKU, Finland (cap. 35k): 19:15 (#louisruisrock24)

MEO MARES VIVAS FESTIVAL

21 Jul - VILA NOVA DE GAIA, Portugal (cap. 30k): 21:45 (#louismaresvivas24)

MORRIÑA FESTIVAL

26 Jul- PORTO DE A CORUÑA, Spain (cap. 20k): 23:50 (#louismorrina24)

ARENAL SOUND FESTIVAL

2 Aug - BURRIANA, CASTELLO, Spain (cap. 50k): 23:20 - 00:40 (#louisarenalsound24)

SANTANDER FESTIVAL

3 Aug - SANTANDER, Spain (cap. 15k): 1:30 - 2:30 AM (#louissantander24)

UNTOLD FESTIVAL

8 Aug - CLUJ-NAPOCA, Romania (main stage cap. 30k, 2023 attendance 400k): 21:45 - 23:00 (#louisuntold24)

SZIGET FESTIVAL

10 Aug - BUDAPEST, Hungary (cap. 92k): 19:15 to 20:30 (#louissziget24)

FREQUENCY FESTIVAL

16 Aug - ST. PÖLTEN, Austria (cap. 140k) (#louisfrequency24)

CABARET VERT FESTIVAL

18 AUG - CHARLEVILLE-MÉZIÈRES, France (cap. 90k): 19:10 - 20:10 (#louiscabaretvert24)

VICTORIOUS FESTIVAL

23 Aug - PORTSMOUTH, UK (cap. 65k): 16:45 - 17:30 (#louisvictorious24)

ZURICH OPENAIR FESTIVAL

24 AUG - ZURICH, Switzerland (cap. 80k): 19:40 - 20:40 (#louiszurichopenair24)

FESTNINGEN FESTIVAL

30 Aug - TRONDHEIM, Norway: 17:30 - 18:30 (#louisfestningen24)

ITALIAN GRAND PRIX

31 Aug - 1 Sep - MONZA, Italy (#louismonza24)

LIVE FROM FEST ISTANBUL

6 Sep - Festival Park Yenikapı, ISTANBUL, Turkey (cap. 10k): 21:30 - (#louisfestistanbul24)

LOLLAPALOOZA BERLIN

7 Sep - Olympiastadion & Olympiapark, BERLIN, Germany (cap. 100k): 18:15 - 19:10 (#louislolla24)

SUPERBLOOM FESTIVAL

8 Sep - Olympiapark and Olympiastadion, MUNICH, Germany (cap. 50k): 17:35 - 18:35 (#louissuperbloom24)

Louis’ FAREWELL REEL

[the-mic-drop]

World Events & Hazbin Characters

@shokolandish this is your fault.

1800s

1840s- Sir Pentious is born (approximately maybe)

1841- The word 'dinosaur' is coined.

1861- The American Civil War begins

1869- The Suez Canal is completed

1873- Blue jeans are invented

1879- Thomas Edison invents the lightbulb

1888- Sir Pentious dies

1888- Jack the Ripper murders occur

1890s- Husk is born (approximately maybe)

1890- 1st use of the electric chair

1892- Basketball is invented

1896- The Olympics are revived

1900s

1900s- Alastor is born (approximately maybe)

1910s- Angel Dust & Vox are born (approximately maybe)

1912- The Titanic sinks

1914- Panama Canal opens & WWI begins

1918- WWI ends

1920s- Niffty is born (approximately maybe)

1920- Prohibition begins in the U.S.

1923- Time Magazine is first published & Disney is founded

1927- The first sound film "The Jazz Singer" is released

1929- The Great Depression begins

1933- Alastor dies & U.S. Prohibition ends

1937- The Hindenburg Disaster

1939- WWII begins

1945- WWII ends

1947- Angel Dust dies

1948- Gandhi is assassinated

1950s- Niffty & Vox die

1953- 1st color TV is produced

1954- Rock & Roll hits the American mainstream

1959- 1st documented AIDS cases

1960s- Cherri Bomb is born (approximately maybe)

1960- The Beatles are formed

1967- The New Orleans Saints football team is formed

1968- MLK Jr is assassinated

1969- 1st moon landing

1970s- Husk & Valentino die

1977- Star Wars is released

1980s- Cherri Bomb dies

1982- Michael Jackson's album Thriller is released

1984- Radio Ga Ga by Queen is released

1985- The Macintosh 128K is released

1990- The World Wide Web begins

A few takeaways:

They all died before the the internet as we know it began.

Vox died just before color TV came around

They all could have worn blue jeans in life

Angel Dust and Vox lived through both World Wars and they were likely at an age to be drafted into service during WWII. Maybe that's where Angel got so good with Tommy Guns? And MP-40s, come to think of it...

[i-hate-the-mercator-projection]

So where the hell is Rhadamanthus?

OK, lets list some things we know about the space elevators, orbital ring, and conduit in xenoblade 3:

the orbital ring is around the equator exactly

the orbital ring has three space elevators, Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamanthus (the world tree)

the conduit/zohar was found in Africa, PRESUMABLY near lake turkana, just north of the equator in Kenya

presumably, the three space elevators are equidistance from eachother, at three different spots on the equator

ok now that we've got that straightened out, lets try and pinpoint the locations of the three stations. The only one we actually see is Rhadamanthus, and at the end of future redeemed we get to see the surrounding areas.

Many people were quick to note how much this looks like California. A sprawling city by the sea with mountains inland. not to mention the obviously american architecture. Hell when we visit the same place in xenoblade 2 we see ruins of road signs made in the american style. Including references to a interstate 236, that doesn't exist

But, obviously, there's no part of the USA that straddles the equator. So we have to look for other locations that fit the bill. First of all, we know that the flashback to the city in future redeemed takes place during the afternoon, as we hear the radio broadcaster mention that the show is the afternoon news. Shadows point east in the afternoon as the sun is in the west. We see shadows pointing away from the sea in future redeemed, so that must mean that the location of Rhadamanthus is on a west coast.

There are only three countries with a west coast the equator cuts through: Gabon, Indonesia, and Ecuador.

Gabon doesn't fit the bill, it's too flat.

Indonesia has several islands on the ecuator that COULD fit the bill, but I'm really interested in ecuador here.

this part of ecuador right on the equator fits the bill perfectly. by the sea, with mountains inland, on the west coast, and there's a BIG reason to suspect rhadamanthus is here, but I'll come back to that in a bit... For the record, I'm going to assume that the areas around all three space elevators are administered by the USA, or at least the "coalition goverment". We know the USA had a MASSIVE hand in at least Rhadamanthus's management as we see references to the US government in it in xenoblade 2. I'm imagining it to be a panama canal situation, where only a small strip of land around the space elevator is actually controlled by the USA. Which would explain the road signs and the non existent interstate. (worth mentioning that 236 could be a connecting road to the nearby pan american highway). Anyway, what about the other two

Well. Obviously one of them is going to be in East Africa right? To the south of lake Turkana. They'd build up from where they found the conduit for sure. So, what are some potential locations? Well, about 175 miles south of the lake is the city of Nanyuki. Right on the ecuator, and has an airport. Perfect spot for a major development to happen.

So, what two locations are equidistance from Nanyuki on the equator? Well, to find that we need to divide the circumference of the world into thirds, and then measure that number along the equator from Nanyuki in both directions

the circumference of the world is 40075km, divided by 3 is 13358.33km To the east 12258km from Nanyuki is...

The middle of the ocean... which is fine. There are no three spots on land on the ecuator which are equidistance from eachother. There was always going to be somewhere in the water. But the way i see it, if you can build a space elevator you can build an artificial island. So this probably wouldn't be an issue. It gets exciting when you go west though, because 13358km west of Nanyuki is...

RIGHT OF THE COAST OF ECUADOR.

Within a margin for error of about 300km too. and if you're building a structure of that scale 300km is nothing. Rhadamanthus could've absolutely been right there on that coast. Anyway, this has been my TED talk. Rhadamanthus is in Ecuador. Why the conduit is there and not in Nanyuki... well thats a whole different question to ask.

[jolapeno]

iv. sunshine yellow

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter four of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field.

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers, no use of y/n, ptsd/anxiety, lots of worrying for no reason, smut, p in v, desk fucking. wordcount: 6.2k an: the last scene in this i am both excited and nervous to share cause the walls are coming down. tehehehehe. as always, the biggest thank you to my bestie and cheerleader  @guyfieriii who lets me send her random ideas and also to @yeyinde who puts up with my nonsense and instils so much confidence in me.

“Panama DEA said no warrant, no detention.” 

Sweat pooled at the waist of his trousers, his thumb digging into the space on his brow. “Fuck—“

“Plus, Jurado didn’t stay in Panama.”

Staring around, Javi sighs. “They know where he went?”

Silence. Horrid, crackling silence, before: “No.”

Running his tongue against the front of his teeth, Javi shakes his head. “So Jurado could be anywhere. Fuck!”

Stoddard clears his throat. “Also, boss. Fiestl and Van Ness have been trying you. A lot.”

“All right, well, put them through when you get them. I’m on my way back—and, Stoddard.”

“Yeah, boss?”

He drops his hand, straightening his spine. “Jurado has a wife in Bogotá. She’s American.” He drops his head, thinking briefly of you—your words of protecting him. “Put a tap on her phone.”

Three days. It takes three days, and the papers are signed for them to go to Cali. 

You stand as you watch them being signed, your throat tightening the same as you did when you overheard the first talks of it. Feeling eyes on you, Stechner’s in particular. Waiting for a reaction, wondering if the volcano will finally implode. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction, hiding it, bottling it—capping it somewhere deep under layers and layers, even as it uncoils inside of you. The former wounds and nightmares coming undone. Their soreness open to the world, thin cuts—barely noticeable, but they sting when the air brushes over them; when you’re alone for too long, when your mind begins to run. 

You’re sure it took longer—and far more paperwork—to order a bag of decaf for one of the secretaries, than it did to send two more people to Cali. 

It’s why you uncork a bottle of wine the day they’re signed. Coating your throat in it as you lean your back against the wall of your living room. Music flooding through your place, drowning out the ringing phone—muffling over hope and better days.

Cali does that, it unearths things.

It shakes the foundation you’ve cautiously built. Threatens to pull you through the soil back into the hole, looming in a corner like a shadow, ready to remind you that you’re not whole anymore—and to stop pretending you are. 

Dan is well-versed in your coping mechanisms. Approaching you before lunch, hand on your elbow—not noticing the pair of brown eyes which burned into the two of you through the blinds. You hadn’t meant to meet them, but it’s natural. A pull, a magnetism. A soft smile etched poorly across your lips as you allowed your friend to drag you away. 

The warm Colombian air clung to you both as you leaned against the marble embassy wall, the words washing over you as you dug your shoulder blades into the wall—pushing your feet into the ground. 

“You gonna be alright? Cause you look like you’re about to murder someone—“ “I’ll murder you if you ask me that again.”  Dan rolls his eyes, moving next to you, leaning. “No one would blame you for not being okay. That’s all I’m saying.”  Sighing, you stare at the ground. 

Time moves too quickly. That’s what you think when you’re pulling into the spot outside the coffee shop. The radio on low, barely smothering the thick and jarring tension caused by you taking them both to the airport. 

Dan is the first to escape, opening the passenger side door before you can even murmur a request. Chris remains behind awkwardly, sitting in it—letting it thicken and boil as you continue to grip the wheel. The leather under your fingers warming, the veins and tendons in your hand rippling under your skin as you sigh before stepping out.

You don’t follow when he steps out from behind you—even if you want to.

Instead, you lean against your car, sliding your sunglasses on—not for sight, but for cover. Big, dark lenses that are large enough to cover the bags under them and the tops of your cheeks. 

It’s easier, means you don’t need to hide whatever emotion rises, comes, and crashes. You can let it drench you, stop it from festering and instead hide it, discreetly behind the shields covering your eyes. 

It was Chris who told you that you showed everything with your eyes. 

The anger—the one which has become a part of you. The worries, which have been bubbling to the surface since you’d learnt it was them who were going. It all sits on your chest. Furious, like a dragon which can’t be tamed, all set to burn anyone in its wake in thick, boiling flames.

You let your fingers slide against your thumb, digging your heels into the pavement. 

Flickers of Cali come to mind.

The sun, the warmth—the yellow-walled apartment. The laughter, the flowy fabrics around your skin. Then it shifts, night falling in the edges of your memories, burning and twisting—tightening your chest as you remember scarlet stained hands, graffiti letters against yellow— 

“Hey,” Dan exclaims, his hand on your forearm.  You steady your breath, filling your lungs, placing your palm against the cool marble. Letting it thrum through your skin, and slide into your blood. Pushing into the floor with your heels, rooting yourself, grounding down.  “If you don’t stop doing that, I’ll have to hug you,” Dan says, cutting through your panic. “And that’ll be painful for both of us.”  “I’m…” you meet his eyes, watching the rest of his face look as it usually did.  Stern. Difficult to read.  But his eyes were kind, swimming in concern.  “Please be safe.”  Snorting, he slowly releases your forearm. “If I had my way—“ “You wouldn’t even be going. You’d stick behind your desk, blah blah blah,” you tease, his elbow nudging you.  Dipping his head, he sighs. “But, ‘course I will. He will too.” 

It grows, the lump—the one which forms whenever you think about that place too much. When you let yourself think of late-night talks and ears pressed against sunshine yellow, allowing them to twist, morph and shift into a nightmare you survived—

Graffiti-covered walls; scarlet clinging to matted curls. 

Your hand shakes, flattening it to your thigh, staring into the shop—watching the two of them talk to the owner. The odd word making its way to your ears, not enough to know what they’re ordering.

You are cracking. Thick lines appear through your exterior, leaving holes for more things to seep in, to ruin, steal breath and pull you back under. 

There’s still pain under your nails from how hard you had to claw your way back to your desk. To the DEA. To stand straight and not quiver under the stares, hearing their thoughts: failure, failure, failure— 

“Got you a coffee.”

He’s holding it out, Chris. 

Blinking behind your shades, unsure when he’d returned, or how long he’d been standing there with his arm outstretched, waiting for you to take it. You’re thankful they don’t tremble when you reach out—your fingers brushing his as they do. Glancing past him, needing a focus, you watch the small vendor excitedly speaking to a less-than-impressed Dan, something which provides more entertainment than it should. 

It’s still there, the torment—the past which likes to torture. It makes your throat dry, making standing seem near impossible, especially as you stare at him. At Chris. 

Smirking, you shake your head. “How’re you getting to the airport?”  “How’d you know I’m not driving myself there and leaving my car.”  Arching your brow, you softly laugh. “Dan. The second time meeting you, you ranted about the ridiculous airport car parking prices. So, let’s say it’s a hunch.”  Shrugging, he fights with a smile. You can tell. He has tells—just like everyone. His being that one side of his lip slides up, just a fraction.  “I’ll take you.”  He arches his brow. “I was gonna taxi with Chris.”  Swallowing, you sigh. “Then tell him I’ll pick him up second.”

You say nothing—even if you think you should. So much history pulsing between the two of you as the sun slowly spreads its glow across the street. Chris just watches, staring through your lenses—trying to unmask what it is you’re hiding. 

As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t seen it all before—far worse than this. Seen you at the lowest, seen you on your knees, scraped and bruised. So, you watch him, until he tears his eyes away, staring down the quiet street as he sips his drink. 

“Thank you. By the way.”

“No problem. I know Dan’s feelings on airport car parks.”

Chris snorts, dragging his eyes towards you, but not quite landing. “No. For... whatever you said to Peña. To consider this—to consider me.”

Rolling your lips, you hold the cup tighter. Looking over his shoulder at Dan, dread filling the space left inside of you. It expands, pressing against the nervousness—making something more disruptive, more uncomfortable.

“I’m also… I’m sorry—for how I’ve been. And before you lie, to protect my feelings, like you always do—don’t. Because it isn’t.” 

You lift your chin, letting your glasses slide down your nose. It allows him a glimpse, lets him see your eyes, lets you see that familiar look in his own, an expression filtering across the face your fingers had once known so well. Slowly, just as your shoulders unknot from your ears, you watch him etch himself into someone you used to know. Someone you used to love, care for... want.

He sighs, smiling. “I’m sorry. I know why you ended things… and I get it. It made—makes—sense I just—I missed you. And…”

“I pushed you away.”

“If I hear from Stoddard that the two of you became friends—” “I will not be becoming friends with fucking Stoddard, Dan. I barely wanted you.” He smirks, nudging you. “You’re gonna miss me.” “I think you’ll miss me more.” Scrunching his face, he sighs heavily. “Maybe. You’ve got Peña, though.” Hands dropping from the wall, you frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Nothing,” Dan says, shrugging. “Just seems like a good boss, you get on with him.” 

You take a sip from the cup, the caffeine exploding into your mouth—the rich, herbs and fruit smothering your tongue. It silences your mind, and allows it to settle. Returns to a low-simmer than an overboiling mess as you stare at your ex. 

The ex who used to be your friend. 

Rubbing the back of his head, Chris snorts.“Yeah, you did. But, I know… I know you, Lun. You were dealing with a lot. You were so strong, and yet so broken, and then we ended. And you, just...” 

He shakes his head, eyes dropping to the ground, as his tongue sweeps over his lip. And you know.

You know, because you thought the same. 

It sat like an uninvited guest the moment you got back. Its presence had been more noticeable the moment you found yourself able to breathe, to stop yourself from shaking.

It grew larger when you flinched under his touch—when you purposefully curled away from him. It whispered in poisonous prose that it had been there before you left, but had worsened so much more because of who you were when you returned. It lay between you both as he snored, dreaming, and you lay, paralysed by nightmares that didn’t just play when you closed your eyes. 

Clearing his throat, Chris kicks a pebble, it bouncing down the pavement in the noiseless. “You just looked like you were doing better without me—and it hurt. And, I—I kept lashing out.” 

Nodding, you bite your lip. “I wasn’t…” you admit. “It hurt me too, to be without you.”

“Oh.”

It escapes a laugh. Short, but sweet—and very much genuine. It falls from your lips so surprisingly, his head snaps up, the moment growing, maturing as his lips rise at the edges as you add, “Oh? Really?”

Chris sips his drink, shrugging. “What do you want me to say?”

As you shake your head, you’re still sniggering, lighter, less obvious. “I don’t know, but I do know this is the first time we’ve been honest with one another in months.” 

“Yeah. I’ve missed you—not like that, but just…”

Nodding, you swallow. “I know.” 

His eyes meet yours, and all the unspoken words sound louder. 

They flutter like broken butterflies, flapping their damaged wings as you bite the inside of your cheek. Feeling the evidence of day-old teeth marks, the phantom twinges of panic that threaten to wrap their hands around you.

“Please be safe... I’d,” you stare at him, seeing—for the briefest moment—the person you lay in bed with, the person you made breakfast with and stole the sunglasses of. “I’d hate it if something happened to you.”

He nods, short but full of understanding.

And you think about it, curling into him. Letting your arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close. Your feet are almost moving, closing the distance to do so.

But he’s quicker.

The two of you falling into the old ways, your head finding the space along his shoulder, something sliding into place, something healing—one less crack somewhere deep inside of you. You let him hold you, let yourself be held—feeling the sting behind your eyes, the fear rising, before you glance over—finding, if anything, the most uncharacteristic smile on Dan’s face. 

You’ve always been good at remembering things.

Dates. Numbers. Faces—

They’re drilled into you—because you’re used to dialling them or because you have them banked somewhere in your mind. You knew Chris’s because the two of you had dated, you knew Van Ness’s because of lunch orders and after-work drinks; you knew Stoddard’s because he was who you reported to, and you knew the Ambassador’s because his clearance meant something.

But, Peña’s… 

You didn’t know it because you called him a lot. Didn’t know it because you’d rang him copious times—if anything, the two of you rarely spoke on the phone. But, you’d chosen to memorise it. Just in case. 

The same one you’d been dialling furiously for the last hour—eyes glancing to his desk, the one he’s been away from for hours. 

Sunshine yellow, splintered sobs, carmine-stained palms…

Digging your elbow into the desk, you grit your teeth. Fixing, staring at a spot on the carpet—old, dried gum that’s worsened over time. Something—anything. Taking a breath, banishing yellow—trying to rid the feeling that the walls are coming in as you place the phone back into the hook. 

Peña has been gone for hours. 

Something he doesn’t do without telling someone. Not when he had plans, ones you heard from Stoddard. 

Since the file room, the two of you had been swirling around one another, but not colliding. He told you things, but things you already knew. The way it had to be, you assumed. A line the two of you had drawn because he was your boss—and both felt you should. 

But, you couldn’t turn off your worries. The niggling anxiousness that something was wrong. 

It had nestled somewhere deep, spreading and merging with the worries Cali had dragged up. Your nails tap in rhythmic patterns on your desk, trying to concentrate on your screen, the names, the numbers—

Stoddard isn’t concerned. 

Doesn’t think anything of it when Peña doesn’t answer. When the phone rings out. 

Even if the man worships the ground he walks on. The hero he couldn’t wait to meet, to shake his hand—ask him all things Escobar like the two of them would be best buds. 

Now, though, when something does feel off, it’s a shrug, it’s a shake of the head. ‘He’s likely following a different lead.’ The annoying part… Stoddard could be right. Something which annoys you more. 

That able to smother your worries, your intrusive thoughts for a moment. A sense of peace begins to mist over you, until it thrums inside of you again. Like it has since the airport drop off this morning. It all untwisting, slowly oozing out until it collects other things, creating more anxiety in a lab of your own making.

The list ever-growing, collating— 

Van Ness. Fiestl. Javi.

It worsens when you call the number from earlier. The one for the plane he’d asked for, after you’d handed Peña the blue folder. You’d studied his features and committed each expression as he read the contents of it. 

If you blink, you still see the way his face lit up, the realisation that dawned over him—it was like magic. Like perfect sunsets and those mornings there isn’t a cloud in the sky, making your cheeks warm, especially with the way he’d stared at you after.  

“You okay, sir?”  Your heart quickens in your throat as he stands, tapping the blue folder against his palm.  “You got plans tonight?”  “What?”  “I owe you food.”  Shaking your head, you lick your lips. “No, you—“ “You bought me lunch yesterday, I’ll buy you dinner. Tonight. Here.” Stepping around your desk, you feel his eyes on you. “I’ll hold you to that, sir.” 

You know you’re rattled. Sensitive.

Split open at the poorly sewn seams, panic seeping out of every orifice imaginable as you bounced your heel into the embassy carpet. But, something told you to be—something outside of anxiousness and concern. Something not easily stifled by reassuring thoughts and hopeful thinking as you stared into the dirty, bathroom mirror. 

It’s heavy in your hand—your phone. Slowly placing it back into its position as you process what you’d heard. 

“Stoddard…” you mumble, swallowing the forming lump in your throat. “Neil?”

“Yeah.”

You can feel it, the ground shifting. Your vision sliding, blurring just at the edges as your pulse quickens. “He didn’t—um. He didn’t get on the plane. Peña”

He doesn’t say anything—barely even a frown. Just leans back in his chair, tapping his pen on the desk—as though Peña disappearing is something which happens regularly. 

As though he’s someone who would vanish on the day he sent two agents to Cali. 

The silence should unnerve you—usually, it does. 

It normally allows everything to breed, to worsen—double and multiply. It allows that string to stretch again, it always so close to snapping, as its plucked and plucked, shivers through you. 

Night has come and snatched the day. The office having slowly emptied over the last two hours, Stoddard having left fifteen minutes ago at best. You should go too, leave—try and sleep and reset. 

But, you slide into Peña’s chair, staring over the contents of a file that you’re not taking in. Instead, it’s for show. A pretence as you chew the inside of your cheek, spreading your fingers out over the small patch of his desk not covered in paper. Just feeling the wood, the smoothness of it. How cold it is. The chill stretching and weaving up your wrist—

“Oh, cariño…I didn’t know anyone was still here.“

You’re on your feet instantly, palms pressed against the desk. Eyes having landed on brown eyes and a figure that makes your heart stop. And then, relief. He’s okay. Pe—Javi. Alive. Well. Whatever bit of you you’d been gnawing, releases, freeing you. All the thoughts, ones of him being taken, of him lying in a pool of his—

“Yeah, I’m… I’m here,” you whisper, clearing your throat.

Barely able to say it any louder. 

Swallowing, finding yourself quickly smothered and wrapped in something you’d forgotten could exist in the last few hours. The sight of him almost forces you to cross the room, to wrap your arms around him. You stop yourself. Just. 

Dropping your chin, you watch through your brows as he throws his jacket and tie over the chair opposite you, blinking back thankful-tears as your fingers halt from drawing against the swirls in the wood of his desk.

He’s watching you, and as soon as you notice it, it’s all you focus on. They’re warming you, tracing you. Like he’s unable to tear himself away, staring stares at you as though you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. Sometimes you almost believe you are.

“Surprised to find you still here. It’s late—even for you.” 

Snorting, you feel warmth slide up your cheeks. “Well, you did promise me dinner...”

He traces his jaw with his finger, a puzzled look on his face as he straightens, and your eyes take in the way his top two buttons are undone, that his hair is tousled—that he looks good. Alive, safe, breathing, and so good. 

Him all golden skin and a pair of eyes that made you want to see every expression flutter across them. Just like normal. A normal you try to camouflage, dress it up in disdain and faux-annoyance. 

Clearing your throat, you stand, stepping around his desk, not letting a finger fall from it. Suddenly needing it to ground you, to focus on—stop the shakes from your early worrying when everything felt like it was on fire.

It’s at the last moment you watch it bloom over his face—the realisation. 

“Shit… I’m so—cariño…” 

Shrugging, you lift your head. “It’s fine, I was just teasing—“

“I had—fuck, I had no signal. I’m—“

“Peña. It’s fine. I was messing with you. Where were you—to not have a signal?”  

His jaw tightens, dropping his eyes as he runs a hand over his face. “Stechner took me to a jungle.”

“Course he did,” you snort, taking some of the discomfort. “Lemme guess, because of our visitors? I know I shouldn’t say this, but—“

“He’s an asshole?”

“Such a fucking asshole.”

You laugh, merging with his. Both of them escape, puffing out of you both as you feel a thread loosen around your throat.

He’s looking at you again, differently than before. The silence from the rest of the building, the late hour providing nothing but quiet.

You’re sure your blood has ignited, simmering in your ears, head and chest. Something fluttering, wings brushing your ribs as you swallow it all. Needing a distraction, scrambling for one, remembering—

“Fiestl and Van Ness—“

“I know. Managed... I called them in the car. They’re staying there, they have…” His voice trails off, head tilting. 

You knew that. 

Had spoken to Dan. Almost wanting to tell him that—a flicker of annoyance stemming through the earlier worry—bite that you’ve been here, taking calls for him. 

But, Javi’s eyes are narrowing in the way he does when he’s figured something out. You can’t stop it, a mere passenger to the way your body warms under his sight—ears burning as you watch the corners of his lips twitch. 

“Why are you in my office, cariño?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you straighten your spine. “Stoddard isn’t great at answering your phone.”

You find yourself swallowing when Javi takes a step closer, eyes burning into his, the same as his are burning into yours. His screaming Liar. Noticing him swiping his thumb across his bottom lip. 

“I spoke to Stoddard—before he left for the night.” 

You swallow. 

Don’t push, you silently plead. 

“Come on. You can tell me the truth.”  

It’s fragile, easily able to shatter—the thin wall the two of you have built since the file room. The professionalism, the decency he was intent on giving you. You’ll tear it down yourself single-handedly if he keeps looking at you how he is, observing as he stops in front of you, drinking you in with his deep, velvety eyes. 

Licking your lips, you take a deep breath. “Stop hunting for—”

“Were you worried about me, cariño…?”

It pulses—the truth. Even if he says it with that tone, the one which is always accompanied by a smirk. The one which makes your skin flush with warmth. 

It mixes with the rattling around inside of you, the one born from actually worrying about him. It's all thrumming, vibrating. Making it hard to swallow as you lift your chin, almost defiantly. 

Then he says your name. 

Not Luna. Not your surname. Your first given name. 

It’s too much. The proximity, the scent of Earth, smoke and something so distinctly him. The silence made it crumble, blending with his smirk. You watch how it unfilters from his cheeks as he swallows. Being replaced by something far more annoying—concern.

Smiling, you hold his gaze. Realising you have little energy to fight. 

“And, what if I was, Javi?” 

It’s subtle, the shift in his eyes. The change to the way his lips had been turned upwards. All minimal. Barely much at all. His face only half-illuminated by the lamp on his desk, but it’s enough to see the effect his name has on him. It’s enough to make the air difficult, like it’s being squeezed from the room, his lips parting before closing. No words left to say.

He’s surprised. So much so, Javier Peña has been rendered silent. 

You consider leaving, taking your embarrassment with you, dipping your eyes as you fumble for an excuse—

And then he whispers your name. All breathy, almost like he did that night after the bar. As though he doesn’t want you to leave—it makes your eyes snap up. 

They shrivel, the thoughts of leaving. Vanishing as if they never existed, to begin with. 

His fingers, cautious and calloused, brush themselves over your forearm and the last piece of restraint crumbling and settling alight—as if it was made of paper, and he was the match. 

It’s instant the way your lungs ache—burning—when you crash your lips to his. Your fist is full of his collar as your heart thumps, over and over—hammering and knocking, banging and smashing. 

It’s messy. Far too desperate and uncoordinated. But it’s also bliss.

It’s freeing. It’s worry, and relief, and a sea of other things.

Your palm places flush with his neck, fingers clutching at his jaw as you feel his pulse thump against you. Alive, he’s alive. Repose settles over you, calming you as you taste cigarettes on his tongue and coffee on his lips. 

A taste you’ve come to crave more than your own bag of beans in your bottom desk drawer.

His hands grip you, fix you against him—little, to no space being left. Not that you want there to be. If anything, you want to remove the barrier of clothes between you. Have him press you against his desk, create a new reason to blush in his presence—

Wrenching your lips from his, you lean back in his palms, finding bewilderment and confusion flashing across in a storm. Swallowing, you size him up, how his eyes are darker and his lips are parted.

“You fucked anyone in your office, sir?”

It hits him, the question—an array of emotions fluttering across his features. “Fuck me...”

Smirking, you take a step back. Hands sliding down his arms until you release his fingers, and your lower back meets his desk. 

It allows him a moment—one to make a choice. A moment which stretches on far too long, your already frayed endings becoming frazzled with anxiousness. Then, you watch your daydreams play out into reality. It’s beautiful, and fascinating—and fucking everything. Studying the way his micro-expressions bleed into major ones, feeling his eyes rise, so inky and full of swirling lust, pulling you in like a siren song. It makes your throat dry—he makes your throat dry. 

“You becoming an exhibitionist, baby?”

Baby.

The word curls around you, dripping into your ear as your hands come down to rest on the edge of the desk. Watching him shift his jaw from side to side.

“Surprised you know that word, Peña. It’s quite long.”

He snorts. Nodding, eyes dropping to the floor. His fingers twitch at his side, thumb brushing over his index and middle, before he looks up. 

Banished is the doubt, the attempt at decency. His frame closes the gap quickly—quicker than you count on. Doing so in a number of strides, you don’t have a chance to count, before he’s on you. Lips crashing against yours, tongue licking past your teeth as you grasp fingers full of his hair.

It’s intoxicating, being kissed by him. 

He’s like fire in your bones and air in your lungs. Losing yourself in him until you run your lips across his jaw, enjoying running your prints up and along his neck, feeling his pulse again—before sliding back up into the soft curls of his hair as you take him in. 

The two of you drink one another in, lost in a moment that’s all your own. You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, unable to tear your eyes from him. Thankful when he reconnects his lips to yours, all desperate to kiss you. 

So much so, you’re sure he does it with the sole intention of ruining you—of taking everything from you, leaving you with nothing.

You’d let him. You are letting him. Allowing his touch to consume you, to render you useless and breathless. 

If you were younger, less scarred—less fearful of getting hurt—there’s more you’d hand him. More parts of you that you’d let him into. Likely spill your secrets, worries and deepest desires—and not hide behind smirks and flirtations.

Instead, you offer him mild submissiveness. 

Hands falling from his neck to your trousers, undoing them—the metal grating against metal sounding, making him groan. It vibrates against you, feeling it in your chest as you let them fall to your ankles with a thud. They’re followed by your underwear, a simple pile, one he helps you step out as he helps slide the bare back of your thighs over his wooden desk.

His hand is quick to sweep files, notes and post-its into a messier pile than before. 

You don’t focus on it. Try not to. Choosing instead to busy your hands with undoing his buttons—reuniting your lips with his. Craving him, not needing him. A solid difference—a considerable one. Because you can admit you want the feel of him—whether it’s the way he stretches you or his fingers across the inside of your knees.

To need him means something else. Something under lust and fucking on a desk. It means letting him in, enough that you could tumble, fall—risk scarring your heart, soul and sense more than they already are. 

He knows it. Must do. You can tell from the way he kisses you—like he’s trying to knock down your walls and paper over old pain. His fingers hunt for the switch, the one which slides the imaginary door to your secrets. And his tongue, he tries to carve it into a key to unlock everything about you—discover the reason you protect yourself, hide, conceal. 

For now, he takes this. Having you in his office, his groan as you palm him over his trousers—as he hisses into your mouth. You equally take each sound you can have, like the sound of his belt undoing, and trousers falling to his ankles. Working him slowly up and down. How he’s trying to push you over the edge by curling two of his fingers inside you, finding the spot that made you coo his name. 

He stops, and so do you.

Both of you panting, watching his forehead meet yours as he tugs your hips closer. 

He’s beautiful. Something you had known before, something you had witnessed and accepted. But, this is different, the lighting, the intimacy—the earlier worries. 

Your hand curls against his cheek as he slides the head of his cock through your slick walls. Body aflame with arousal, with want. 

I’m glad you’re okay, Javi. Glad you’re here. 

It’s easy, the way he steals your gasp with his lips. Your hand clutches his side as he stretches you, making you feel so full—eyes clenching shut as you forget how to breathe. But your lips—oh, your lips don’t forget how to kiss him. They remember how to take as much of him as they can get. 

The same way you begrudgingly take how slow he rocks himself into you, that his forehead finds yours, and cariño rolls in soft murmurs from his perfect, kissable lips.

It’s worse when it’s slower, impossible to deny how perfect he feels—how good he makes you feel. 

“Thought of—fuck—nothing else.” 

He talks more when he’s sober, you're not the same.

Thankful you hadn’t helped yourself to his liquor, afraid you’ll be telling him how thankful you are he’s okay, that he’s back in his office. Alive. Well. Breathing. That he’s kissing you, that he’s fucking you. 

Instead, you find yourself unable to stop yourself from clutching him close. From smiling as he captures your lips, to smothering any moans and whimpers as you whisper his name. 

He grasps your hip, ghosting his mouth over yours, “I like the taste of my name on your lips, cariño.”

“Shit, Javi.” 

He peers down, a glint, a smirk—eyes speckled with the reflection of the lamp. Your head falls back as he helps you lift your leg. Just enough—until your heel meets the edge of the desk.

The groan he emits fills the air, and stains it. Feeling him so much deeper, creating so much pressure as he slides in and out. Your own moans stifled, buried, drowned in your throat with sheer fucking will— because he’s so impossibly, perfectly fucking deep.

“Anyone fucked you like this?”

Your eyes are already closed, the pleasure quivering, building. If your eyes open, if you meet his, you’ll lose—let him in, let him see you, all of you. He’ll undress your mind, peer in and see the broken mess behind the well-put-together woman he’s been thinking about fucking again.

That you cannot lose. Not him. Never him, but also not this—this perfectly matched game that could go on and on until one of you ruins it.

He breathes your name. Gruff. Peppered with pleasure and bliss as he snaps his hips against yours. It’s easier to shake your head as his pace quickens, as his grunts punch into the air.

“Need to—fuck, cariño—need to hear you—“

“No, Javi. Just you. Only y-you.”

One of your hands grips the desk, digging into the wood—enough to leave a mark. The other grabs him, the back of his neck, fingers digging into skin and hair. 

You arch your back, feeling only then his palm on your spine—having balled up enough of your blouse to keep it from being in the way. His hand slides under, fingers spreading, curling you closer, rooting you to him.

As if his cock isn’t doing that. As though it isn’t dragging through your walls, stroking parts of you which makes you almost see stars, light and fucking heaven—

“Give it to me, cariño.”

His hip presses against your lower calf, hitting that spot over and over. The sound of your arousal growing, the slick noises as he pounds into you, drowned only by his grunts and your whimpers. 

Tilting your head back, you take him in. The hair which is in strands, jaw tight, sweat building on his neck as he looks down at you like you’re everything. 

It almost pushes you to let go—let it wash over you, and then you hear the softest whisper from his lips.

“Please.”

Your eyes open, basking under his gaze—and it rips through you. Tears you into pieces as his name carves into the air, and he fucks you through it. His hand grips you tighter, keeping you as close as he can. For as long as he can.

Your focus is on feeling it—from head to toe. How it ripples, travelling to every nerve as it sets you alight. The rest only comes back to you slowly, the way your lips are already meeting his as he groans your name as he coats you in his release. 

It’s only when he slows, does the dull ache in your nails greets you, splinters carved into your skin. 

Javi waits a moment, drawing a shape on your lower back with his fingers before he slides himself free from you, leaving you empty. The low light casts shadows that make him appear softer. 

You almost are able to convince yourself it’s the lighting, but then he bends down to retrieve your clothes. Sliding your leg through the fabrics, seeing a gentler part of him showing through. You have to close your eyes, hiding from it.

Knowing you’re falling, descending. Still hearing the sound of him coming with your name on your lips—understanding what he meant when he said he liked the taste of his name on your tongue. 

You liked the taste of yours too. More so when it graced the air in a chorus.

Please. 

Please, he had whispered. 

You feel his thumb sliding up your thigh, garnering your attention again, flicking your eyes open as fabric follows his fingers. You smile, mirroring his, slowly realising that you’re losing the battle of keeping him out—greeted by kinder brown and flecks of softness.

“Javi…” He blinks, forehead smoothing out—no lines, no frown. “I was worried. I was worried about you.” 

Swallowing, he lifts his hand, thumb brushing the side of your lip as he parts his lips, all set to say something or another. But the phone rings. 

Another interruption—a yank back to reality. Standing, flinging yourself from his desk as he moves to  take it, trying not to listen, but listening all the same. 

His eyes meet yours—and you realise in an instant the call is important. His tells showing, unable to be masked from how you’d cracked him open only moments ago, staring until he mouths Fiestl.

Your heart hammering, pounding, waiting and waiting until he places the phone down. 

“They… they’ve found Gilberto Rodríguez.”

chapter five ->

[captain-price-unofficially]

Radio controlled Coastal Battleship Number 4 (formerly USS Iowa BB-4) bracketed by a salvo from USS Mississippi (BB-41) during Fleet Problem I, off the Panama Canal Zone, 1923. [3889x2364]

[spiderh0rse]

freeman's mind notes part 10, e46-50

e46

if he was hardcore... But you said TWO EPISODES AGO that you were

he doesn't mind too much that his new job seems to be killing people

mocks the xenians about earth gravity

thinks in the south, particularly florida and louisiana, you shoot at rescue helicopters to signal them. Well. i can't say anything to the contrary.

minefield >:[

tries to open ANOTHER giant metal door

haven't bombed this place enough? Well, no!

squirrel on the roof could be payback,,,

yells as he almost slips on the stairs

"this must be how old people feel about stairs..." and me! Stairs are a MENACE and a HAZARD TO SOCIETY. what is wrong with RAMPS, HUH?

we hear a sniper round impact the HEV suit

tries to pry open another large metal rolling door

"GRRAAAHHHHHHGHHHH"

not yet shot enough to take off all the orange paint

almost walks into a tripmine in plain sight. He's getting tired.

talks about snipers the way some people discuss clown husbandry

climbs on around this bullshit

figures out Xen's lower gravity

are there coyotes in new mexico? uh. probably

he thinks we'd be better at math and subsequently further along in technology if we had more fingers. I'd agree with that

MAYBE killing scared unarmed people doesn't make him the good guy

asks after a random guys finger amount

e47

he is not going to wait in this room

thinks things are just going to get worse forever

dumbfounded that this guy is afraid of a couple tripmines

either made vaguely uneasy by clowns or expects the other scientist to be afraid of em

doesn't notice the rockets as he shoots the headcrabs

sneezes :(

yeah he's realizing what's up with the rockets now. Doesn't seem too afraid though

checks a body for money. Admits the soldiers would have taken any

thinks a platform might have spikes that come out of it. Jumps onto it, wondering if he can trigger it. Sir.

considers the spike platform may be for an abattoir

squeezes on by some bars and onto the elevator

hivehand looks awful. He shoots it. No hivehand.

"BLAHHHHHHH."

surprisingly DOESN'T shoot at someone that runs towards him

"friends are like weeds that scream"

just wants a VEHICLE

always meant to learn how to hotwire a car

sobs when stuff starts shooting at him unexpectedly

the tank is NOT supposed to be here

its CLEARLY rocket launcher time

hes never joining the military

e48

new intro! a portion of On A Rail.

sobs as the tank shoots at him

"TELL REALITY TO STOP CHEATING"

grappling hook mention

boops out entry of the gladiators

ANOTHER sniper

yells at the soldiers that there's a sniper outside

can't turn off the radio. Smashes it.

he wouldn't make a good surgeon.

he likes when people call him "sir." I'd forgotten about that I just feel like being polite when I address his more insane notions.

Eddie mention! This time to sell the contents of that giant room full of ordinance

"this might be a warzone but theres money to be made here" war profiteer

can Eddie even handle this many guns? He'll sure try. He gets a sparkle in his eye. Same one he had before going to Panama. That turned out! A way!

if he knew where he were going a few hundred people would be alive rn

he's always wanted a Crown Victoria from a police auction. Drive it around with the stripes, put some fake blood on the hood...

does seem reasonably friendly towards that one guard for a bit. Not enough to wait for him but enough to be almost nice

"nee!"

"hoop bup pah!"

admits he's kind of dropped the kill everyone policy he had

he wants to train a chimp on karate to attack everyone but him

man this guy just LOVES roleplaying as Respectable Professions (Meant To Be Here optional)

shoots the guard on accident. Feels a bit bad but mostly just angry

e49

thinks soldiers are less likely to change history than any random people

...okay he can bust down large doors. Okay.

"I'M NOT ALLERGIC TO BEES, ASSHOLE" sentence you do not hear often

just taking so much electricity to the face. Yelps every time he does

wants to hook up the vortigaunts to a generator

screams when the trampoline bounces him up. does a weird little whine immediately afterwards

the last time he was juggled in the air did NOT go well

"everybody wins! :D especially me"

kills SO many snarks and avoids the nests

fucking love how he rambles when panicking

he had to deal with people shooting at him in ventilation shafts in high school

gasps multiple times when grenades are launched at him

walks right on by a battle when it doesn't affect him directly

shotgun chess! Kill them in the right order or else

doesn't really like chess because some guy can memorize board positions and guess what you'll do

DOES like memorizing chemical bonds

decides he wants the aliens to win these fights

"thank you, oh dark ones, i pay homage"

deeply panicked about the explosive-small pipe situation. Doesn't want to think that ambush is tbe only use of that pipe

just glad no puns were made

e50

likes that being stuck in this tube more than other places because it's not immediately deadly

ghost noises

he's a ghost with a shotgun!

I'm pretty sure he believes in ghosts and thinks he owes them murder now. He likes having ghosts on his side

"in the shining they let him out to kill his family but that doesn't really apply to me"

he's getting a bit silly with the ghost thing

wonders briefly if HE'S a ghost

random guard gets to join the Freeman Fan Club because the ghosts do not order his death

ITS ANOTHER LOBSTER

as always the bouncepads don't work well

jaunty "sir yes sir" to the military radio calling in

hes got time for exploding shit. He'll make time.

less communication is the best communication

very good at aiming the airstrikes

would love an airstrike map for the whole world

glad the military is going to leave him alone now

the HEV doesn't do shit against 50 tons of rock

[fuckyeahvanhalen86-95]

What would you say is Led Zeppelin’s defining song? While answers would vary, most would probably give that accolade to Stairway to Heaven.

Now do the same for Van Halen. Probably Jump, Panama or Hot For Teacher, right? In any case, the percentage of people giving the same accolade to Right Now – from 1991’s For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge – would likely be far lower.

But in Sammy Hagar’s opinion, Right Now is Van Halen’s Stairway to Heaven, at least in terms of their success despite never becoming Number One singles.

“The funny thing about Right Now is it’s like one of those songs like Stairway to Heaven for Led Zeppelin,” he says.

“Stairway to Heaven wasn’t, like, a Number One single or anything. It wasn’t even really a single. It was just an AOR (album-oriented rock) track played on the radio. But it becomes one of their biggest [songs]. I believe it peaked in the 20s – the video got great awards and won three MTV music awards and all that. But the song itself wasn’t a giant radio hit or anything.”

Bassist Michael Anthony adds, “But all of a sudden, you had different sports – basketball, the Lakers – different sporting events, they would start playing bits of that song.”

Sammy Hagar says along with Right Now, the biggest live hits of For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge were Top of the World, Poundcake, Judgement Day and Runaround. “Those were the live hits on this record, and ones we still play today with The Circle,” he says.

The Collection II – a sprawling box set spanning the four consecutive albums in the Sammy Hagar era of Van Halen – 5150 (1986), OU812 (1988), For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge (1991) and Balance (1995) – is available now.

[palomahasenteredthechat]

I'm bored at work but love your takes. So curious to know, what is your take on the limiting of the comments & the now radio silence of it all.

Sending love and light to you

Okay so I will preface this with the caveat that I don't work in PR, and my take is based on being a very observant fan.

I think the recent developments are indicative of a bunch of people who don't coordinate their strategy, or sometimes even talk to each other.

I don't know, there have always been kerfuffles, going back to the first visa snafu before The Tonight Show, to the one before Philly. The weird half-baked Dior campaign, that was supposed to have in-store but never did. The ST zoom call with David Harbour he didn't have the login information for. Booking Manchester but then cancelling almost immediately afterwards. The fake Panama con that took monies using his Eddie likeness, were those fans ever reimbursed?

I'm positive every celebrity has snafus, and I don't watch others, just Joe. But I always observed a start-stop, start-stop rhythm. Maybe it's been growing pains. But I felt AQP, F4 were leveling up even the pr launch of them as a couple was very thorough, and then this dirty deleting feels like a step backwards.

It's just all so weird. So that's my take.

[apptworadioapps]

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One of the most well-known radio stations in Panama is RPC Radio, which is part of the Medcom network. RPC Radio offers a mix of news, talk shows, and music, and has a strong presence in the Panama City region. Another major national broadcaster is KW Continente, which offers a range of programming focused on news, music, and entertainment.

In addition to the national broadcasters, there are also several regional radio stations in Panama. For example, Radio Chiriqui is a popular station in the western province of Chiriqui, while Radio Provincia is a local station in the central province of Cocle.

Panama is also home to a number of community radio stations, which are run by volunteers and focus on local issues and perspectives. These stations often play a key role in promoting local culture and traditions. For example, Radio Maria Panama is a Catholic radio station that focuses on religious programming and community outreach.

Another interesting radio station in Panama is Radio Mangle, which is run by the Kuna Yala indigenous community. Radio Mangle offers programming in the Kuna Yala language and is an important part of the community's efforts to preserve their cultural heritage.

Overall, the radio landscape in Panama is diverse and vibrant, with something for everyone. Whether you're looking for news, music, or cultural programming, there are a wide range of radio stations to choose from. So why not tune in today and discover the sounds of Panama?

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[end-of-violence]

2024ラップ②

G.T. / Dog Out a Pup

Babyface Ray / Money On My Mind

Babyface Ray / Shy Kid

Babyface Ray / Glory

Sada Baby / Flight Back

Damedot / LIE TO MY FACE

Los / Above The Law

Peezy x Nice / Harlem

42 Dugg / Win Wit Us

YN Jay / I Ain't Done Yet

ShutupShy / Still Lit

Chief Keef / Runner

Ballout / Big Glo Flow

Lil Migo / Hello Kitty

Baby Jamo / 6 Foot Chaser

QuisActive / Order Up

Paco Panama / Ezal

HavinMotion / Vibe 2

Skino / FDM

Traphard Swagg / 2 in 2

Lil Wet feat. Wizz Havinn / Sexii Redd

Wizz Havinn / Loco

Wizz Havinn / Tunka Truck

BossMan Dlow Ft. GloRilla / Finesse (Remix)

ATM Tana / Keep Movin

Fatpocket / Live From The Trenches

C Stunna & Skrilla / Curtis Jackson

J1 & Kickkone / Squeeze

Tyte, Trigga500k / Motion

Loe Shimmy feat. Luh Tyler / Aretha Franklin

Loe Shimmy feat. Veeze / Dirty Soda Junkie

ALLBLACK / R.I.P. DRAKEO

Carns Hill ft Knucks X Youngs Teflon / COLOURS

アルバム

Chief Keef & Mike WiLL Made-It / Dirty Nachos

Chif Keef / Almighty So 2

Ballout / No Radio

Lil Flash / Did You Miss Me or You Ain't Care?

D30 / Snakes & Vultures

Junie3x / Way 2 Late

GloRilla / Ehhthang Ehhthang

Woodboy Gee / King Hawk 2

Medhane / Double or Nothing

MIKE & Tony Seltzer / Pinball

Bandgang Lonnie Bands / Antimedia

Bandgang Masoe / Wst

Drego & Beno / True Story

LOM Rudy & Allstar JR / Casino Bag

Damedot / PURPLEHARDT

Ace Cino / 5 Letterz

Payroll Giovanni / Have Money Have Heart - EP

Jugg Harden / Detroit USA

Jugg Harden / Get the Blicky 2.0

Prince Jefe / Tunnel Vision

Prince Jefe / Warwoundzz - EP

Shaudy Kash / The FABUR EP

Wtm Solid / Bigg

Wanski / Back From the Dead

Los / Last In Love

Rio Da Yung OG / Rio Circa 2020

Bfb Da Packman / Forget Me Not

Baby Money / H.I.M. (Hutsle In Me)

Trdee / The Greatest

J1hunnit / Nevermind, I'll Do It - EP

Mack Nickles / Quit While I'm Winning

World Tour Mafia / Tourmania 2

WTM Scoob / Scoob Wav

Pretty Brayah / Unstable

CoffeeBlack & WTM Scoob / Love at First Sight?

Certified Trapper / Trappernese

Yung Threat / Inlilahkitrust

Tae Dawg / Ooze World Order

Lil Gray / Gray

Skino / Youth Madness

Paco Panama / Southside Sopranos

HavinMotion / Motion

HavinMotion / Trappin In Beverly

3o$oma / Jedi Temple - EP

ST6 JodyBoof / Riding W Boof - EP

3coMMa$ / Heavy Rotation 3

KP SKYWALKA / Back To Granny's

Yung Maaly / Clutch Almighty

Situation Slim / Draggin & Havin

EBK Lulmaxx / Do It For Maxx 2

EBK BCKDOE / BlueMoney Music

EBK Lulmaxx / Product of The J - EP

GS Ash & EBK BCKDOE / 3 Doe's Down

GS Ash & SSRichh33 / 3300 Degrees

GS Ash & SSRichh33 / The Redacted Files 2

GS Ash & OsosubkaK / The Joy of Creation

KT8Deuce / Portlands Most Valuable Ghetto Juvenile

KT8Deuce / Aye N***a

adfrmysb / Forever Hate - EP

kpkeeparoll / Born a Steppa

Mozzy / CHILDREN OE THE SLUMS

J. Stalin / Me vs Me 2

Yhung T.O. / AFTER THE FAME

Yhung T.O. & Lil Sheik / Ballin Like Tutu

ALLBLACK / ROUND 1

Big Sad 1900 & MikeMadeThe808's / The Separation

Doddie Savage / Mr Blitz'em 2

Fl6ixer / Web Ya Block

キーフ2024

[vvatchword]

Brother Jack

Delta knew right away that he couldn’t afford to stick to the forest behind the house. Eleanor would always find him. She could just appear at his side. He didn’t dare look at her mind straight-on, but he could feel her fury radiating out of the house. It was directed at the others now. She wasn’t thinking about him.

He had to take a chance.

He didn’t run for the woods, but for the road. He kept to a deer path in the trees until he got to the road—he didn’t want to chance the girls seeing him go, only to alert Eleanor—then turned toward town and ran for it.

He could run like hell. The sun beat down on him. He hadn’t gotten very far when he hit another small group of Sisters. These were Tenenbaum’s youngest. They shouted altogether when they saw him, but he didn’t stop. He just plunged past them at a full sprint.

He’d been engineered to carry a suit that weighed a full ton. He’d been given ungodly endurance. Every breath utilized oxygen more efficiently than a normal human being; every ounce of food he ate, more energy. He was a freight train given flesh and he flew.

He could tell that Eleanor was too far to suss him out by about the sixth mile. He only slowed down by the tenth, and by that time, he’d hit town.

He immediately felt like he’d made a mistake. Cars kept stopping in the street to gawk at him. Pedestrians crossed the road when they saw him, sometimes at a jog. He looked in a window at himself and shuddered. He was filthy from working in the yard all day, and he was wearing his old shoes with the holes in the sides. He was so tall, and he didn’t look right. There was a way to look and he didn’t have it anymore.

A black-and-white car marked with a seal drifted to a stop across the street, then pulled a U-turn and rolled up beside him. Delta hunched his shoulders, kept his eyes forward.

“Hey,” a man said. “You. Big guy.”

Delta looked over his shoulder. A man in a dark uniform and sunglasses was stepping out of the car. Another man in dark glasses sat at the steering wheel, holding a radio.

“Yeah, you,” the policeman said. “Come here.”

Delta shook his head.

“You keep walking, and I can arrest you for resistance,” said the cop. His hand rested on his weapon.

Delta hesitated. He wasn’t afraid of the policeman or his gun. For the first time in a long time, he thought about what it would mean to kill somebody. He could cross that gap between them in a second, and he could twist the cop’s head off in the next.

His hands twitched. He turned to face him, drawing upright. At his full height, he stood eight and a half feet tall. To the cop’s credit, he didn’t flinch, but he did unbutton his holster.

“You better not cause trouble,” said the cop. “I put in a call to the state hospital. They’ll pick you up in 30 minutes.”

“There you are,” a man said in a colorless voice. “Hey, thanks officer. I’ve been looking for this guy.”

Delta scanned the street. A big white guy in a Panama hat, long-sleeved shirt, and slacks was strolling up the sidewalk toward him. He wore aviator glasses. And hell, he was a lot bigger than most people. Delta’s eyes locked on him, wondering.

“This guy’s yours?” asked the cop. “I don’t recognize you. Are you from out of town?”

“Yep,” said the stranger.

Delta brought his hands up and started signing, hoping against hope. He didn’t dare make sounds. Making sounds would make it worse.

“Who are you?” he asked.

To his shock, the big guy signed back.

“A friend,” he said. “Hold still. Don’t scare the guy.”

“Okay.”

The cop relaxed and buttoned his gun. “Oh, I see. Deaf mute?”

“Just mute.” The guy’s voice was rough and grumbly like from cigarettes. “Don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite.” He turned to Delta. A white man, probably. Looked old, perhaps in his sixties. “Come here, will you, buddy? You’re scaring the people out here.”

He also signed at him: “Don’t worry. We have to get you off the street.”

“What do you want?” Delta asked.

“I’ll tell you once I deal with the fuzz.”

“What’s he saying?” the cop said.

“That he got lost,” said the stranger. “He wondered where I’d gotten to.”

“Okay, okay. Just get that guy off the street,” the cop said, sliding back into the car. “He’s scaring people.”

With that, the stranger walked up to him—Delta had backed up under the awning of a sub shop—and held out his hand. There was a gap between cuff and arm. It was an old, wrinkled arm, liver spots on the hands. But once this close, Delta could see the faint traces of Plasmid scarring across the knuckles, down the arm, across the palms, like jags of lightning.

Delta rolled his arm and looked down. He had the same scarring, faint and shining in the sun. Suddenly he felt cold.

Delta shook his head “no.”

“Please go away,” he signed. “I don’t need help.”

“You’re going to get shot without me. Trust me.” The stranger set a hand on his wrist. His palm was rough.

“You’re from there,” Delta signed.

“Same as you,” the stranger signed back. “Come on. I’ve got a place for you to stay.”

“I already have a place,” Delta said.

“So why did you leave it?” asked the stranger, taking him by the elbow. He wasn’t signing anymore, but speaking aloud.

Delta found himself following. What else could he do? The idea of going back to the farmhouse closed his throat. He didn’t want to see Eleanor. He didn’t want to see anyone. He wanted to disappear.

It was astonishing for him to realize that he hadn’t suffered from an intrusive memory once since fleeing the house. He held himself a little straighter. He had a clearer head than he could remember since… well, the beginning. Thoughts seemed to be coming to him faster. That was a good sign, right?

“So where were you going?” asked the stranger. He directed him down a quiet side street. Delta followed.

“I don’t know.”

“A guy like you stands out. You aren’t safe here. Maybe you’d be safe in a big city. Maybe.” The stranger looked up at him, unsmiling. “There are people looking for you and your girls, you know. Powerful people.”

Delta stared down, eyes wide.

“Who?” he asked. “Why?”

“Can you imagine a whole military filled with people like you?” asked the man. “Big, powerful, always following orders?”

Delta shuddered. “But that would hurt them.”

“They don’t care.” The man smiled grimly. “Look, I need something from Dr. Tenenbaum.”

With that, the man whistled. From a side street, two skinny guys in bib overalls came running, both holding paper bags filled with groceries. They wore faded ballcaps and shoes that were just a little too big. Delta’s first thought was that they were mechanics.

They pattered up on either side, staring up unabashedly into Delta’s face, and the smell of them hit him like a brick. He stared back in shock. These weren’t guys—these were Sisters. There was the unnatural height, the unnatural slenderness, the strange eyes. Both were dark-skinned—one probably had parents from India; the other’s might have been from Mexico. They were cured Sisters, too. No fingers picked at his thoughts.

“Tell me,” said the stranger. “How close is too close for your Sister?”

“Six, maybe seven miles,” Delta said. “I need to get out of town.”

He couldn’t believe how easily it came out of his hands. The idea of leaving Eleanor filled him with an overwhelming relief.

“You want to leave your Sister?” asked one of the girls. Her eyes were huge.

“Yes.” Delta glanced aside into a storefront. “She…”

He couldn’t think of what to say. She told his secret to everybody? She wouldn’t listen to him when he said no? She didn’t care about his feelings? It all sounded so silly when he thought about it.

“Don’t know much about Alpha series,” said the stranger. “I never met one. But I heard they each only had one Sister. I’m guessing your Sister is the, ah… possessive type?”

It felt horrible to think it. Possessive—Eleanor, possessive. Admitting to it felt like name-calling, so Delta said nothing. He looked away.

“We have to assume she’s headed this way,” said the stranger. “So we do one of two things: we jump on a train or we get on a bus. What do you feel like doing, Mr. B?”

Delta rubbed his arms. “What’s fastest?”

“John Barton, there you are,” a familiar voice drawled out. “Now I know you aren’t heading off somewhere with strangers.”

Delta whirled. So did the stranger and the Sisters. Sinclair leaned out the window of his car, rolling a cigarette in his mouth.

“Augustus Sinclair,” said the stranger in a wondering voice. “I knew you were around here.”

“Who’s he?” asked one of the girls, signing.

“Oh, I’m just the friend of this big lug here,” said Sinclair, jerking his chin up at Delta. “Come on, big hoss. You’re coming back with me.”

Delta shook his head, backing into the wall.

Sinclair laughed.

“Some things never change,” he said. “Chief, what on Earth could possess you to come all the way out here? Those girls back home called me cryin’ up a storm.”

Sinclair was talking like they hadn’t kissed at all! Delta burned. Could no one hear him? Would no one take him seriously at all? Was he cursed to be shunted from one person to another for the rest of eternity?

“Looks like the big guy’s made up his mind,” said the stranger. “Gotta say I understand the sentiment.”

“I must admit, I’m at a bit of a loss,” said Sinclair, swinging his door open. “You know who I am, but I haven’t got a clue about you.” He pushed himself upright, balanced on the car. “Do give me the pleasure of your introduction.”

“Oh, we’ve never met.” The man took off his glasses and his hat and shook his hair out. He was gray-headed, had a short, scruffy beard. When he raised his head, he smiled. His irises glowed faintly gold. “The name is Jack Wynand. You knew my father.”

Sinclair’s smile never broke. He laughed and leaned back against his car.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Must say, never thought I’d see you in the flesh. Tell me, what use do you have for an old Alpha model, anyway?”

Delta bristled. Sinclair wasn’t looking at him. Sinclair’s eyes were locked on Jack’s.

Jack bent his head. “It’s less about him and more about Tenenbaum,” he said. “If she can revert Big Daddies…”

“Now how’d you figure that out?” Sinclair asked.

“…then she can revert me.” Jack bent his head. “I want ADAM stripped from me. I don’t care what it does.”

The Sisters shrank at his sides, faces full of misgiving.

“With your luck, it’d shrink you to a fetus,” said Sinclair.

“Then that’s what I want,” Jack said.

“Well, son, you’re too late,” Sinclair said. “No ADAM left. Not a drop. Takes gallons for something like that, from what I understand.”

“And you?” asked Jack.

“Me?” Sinclair asked.

A car stopped behind Sinclair’s, honked, and then slowly pulled around them. Sinclair waved at them, gave them an apologetic grimace, turned back to Jack.

Jack spoke again. “So they saved you, and they saved Dr. Porter, but they didn’t save this man here.” Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Delta glanced down at the thumb, then at Sinclair. Sinclair didn’t skip a beat. His brows rose and he gave Jack a brilliant smile.

“I see you’ve done your homework!” he said.

“Answer me,” said Jack. “Why did they save one of the biggest sharks of Rapture before one of his victims?”

Sinclair’s smile was finally cooling. “Well, son, if you don’t know, then I don’t think you ought to.”

Delta felt the flicker at the edge of his mind a second too late.

The air shuddered. There was a tearing, popping sound. Suddenly Eleanor was directly behind him, pressed up against his back. Delta closed his eyes, shoulders sinking. The two Sisters whirled to face her, mouths agape. Jack turned slowly, fingers flexing. He dropped his cigarette. It fell from his fingers like he’d forgotten it.

“Oh, Eleanor,” said Sinclair. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Your boy’s made a hell of a friend today.”

Big Sisters slowly stepped out of the alleys on either side of them, eyes locked on Jack. They were wearing slacks and jeans and what Tenenbaum called their “garden shoes.” Their fingers were curled into claws. There was a heaviness in the air that could not be explained by the weather.

“I think you better get moving, son,” said Sinclair, leaning back against the car.

“I’m going with him,” Delta signed.

Finally, a reaction. One of the Sisters gasped. Eleanor’s hand tightened on his wrist. Sinclair went white.

“Honey, you don’t want to do that,” he said.

“Nobody cares what I want,” Delta said.

“That’s not true!” Eleanor said. The words poured out of her so fast that at first they weren’t comprehensible.

“There are only two people here who know what it’s like to be us,” Jack said softly. His fingers were twitching, twitching, twitching. “Don’t you agree, Subject Delta?”

“I don’t want to fight,” Delta said quickly. “I just want to leave. I’ll go anywhere.”

“Daddy!” Eleanor said. “Don’t!”

Her voice was panicky. Delta savored it—until she pushed into his mind. She was simply there, effortlessly, and she could see everything, and she was crying, but he couldn’t push her out, he wasn’t equipped to push her out, they’d never made him as anything other than a gun she summoned at a whim.

He roared and twisted out of her grip. The Sisters all jumped, Sinclair twitched, and even Jack sprang back. Delta thrilled to it. Yes, jump! Good old Subject Delta! Good old chief! He’ll do anything you ask for a smile and a pat on the back!

“You all think I’m a child!” Delta said. “You all think I’m an idiot!”

“I don’t think that at all!” Eleanor said.

“Stop telling me what to do!” Delta said. “I’m tired!”

“Eleanor,” Sinclair said. “Maybe I should take over.”

She whirled on him, her mouth opening and shutting. Sinclair was white, and he was no longer smiling. His eyes locked on Delta’s.

“You know what you need, honey?” he asked. He held up a hand. “You need out of this sun.” He extended a finger. “You need a sit.” A second finger rose. “You need a cold drink.” A third finger. “And more than that, you need to get out of this little town before the sheriff shows up. Come on. I’ll take you to my place.”

Eleanor shook her head over and over, but the Sisters were moving in. One grabbed her arm. The others kept a healthy distance from Jack and his Sisters, both of whom had set their bags of groceries against the wall and shoved their hands into their pockets.

Jack hadn’t moved at all. He had watched. He had listened. His eyes were unnaturally bright.

“Delta,” he said, “if you come with me, I promise I’ll treat you like a person deserves.”

Eleanor sputtered, frozen between taking complete control of his body—forcing him back to the house—and letting go. Jack waited, only watching, only listening. Who knew what he wanted? But Delta was staring at Sinclair, swaying in place like one hypnotized.

Suddenly all of his memories seemed so foolish. How long ago had they been, anyway? Sinclair probably had a new boyfriend already. He probably got over Delta back when he died the first time. He’d locked him up in a room. What kind of guy locked people up in rooms?

“Are you going to lock me up?” Delta asked.

Now it was Sinclair’s turn to flinch. His eyes were wet.

“Oh, John,” he said.

He said it in such a defeated, quiet way.

Delta sighed. He sank down.

“I’m going with Sinclair,” he said. “Thanks, Jack.”

The Sisters relaxed. Eleanor’s mind grudgingly lifted from his. She rubbed her arm across her face.

Jack glanced up at him. “You’re making a mistake,” he said.

“I know,” Delta said, and stepped into the street.

UPRISING: BLACK SCRAPBOOK HUB

[louisupdates]

FITFWT24: FASHION

ASIA

24 Jan - Bengkel Space SCBD, JAKARTA: [Axel Arigato shoes] [Nike shoes] [Nike pants] [Matsuda glasses] [Raye sweatshirt and shorts] [Balenciaga socks] [Matsuda sunglasses]

AUSTRALIA

25 Jan - SYDNEY and MELBOURNE airports: [1017 Alyx 9SM bomber shirt and jacket] [Dior sunglasses] [Balenciaga sneakers and pants] [Stone Island cap]

27 Jan - Australian Open 2024: [Balmain polo] Garret Leight Wilson sunglasses]

28 Jan - Sidney Myer Music Bowl, MELBOURNE: [Calvin Klein white tanktop] [Stone Island shirt] [Nike trackpants] [Nike Zoom Vomero 5 shoes] [Adidas Oswego shoes]

29 Jan - MELBOURNE to BRISBANE: [DRFCOfficial sweatshirt] [Martine Rose track pants] [Salomon sneakers] [Ray Ban sunglasses]

30 Jan - Riverstage, BRISBANE: [Stone Island pants] [Neil Barrett t-shirt]

31 Jan - BRISBANE to SYDNEY: [Balenciaga hoodie]

2 Feb - Qudos Bank Arena, SYDNEY: [Burberry t-shirt]

8 Feb/ 9 Feb - SYDNEY: [Leones flames tank top] [Burberry white T-shirt]

TEKATE PAL NORTE FESTIVAL

30 Mar - MONTERREY, MEXICO: [Stone Island pants] [A Bathing Ape t-shirt] [Burberry shorts]

IHEART RADIO AWARDS - 1 APR 2023

LATAM [Fandom votes]

2 May - Centro de Convenciones Amador, PANAMA CITY: [Converse x A-COLD-WALL* Reversible Gale pants and shoes]

5 May - Coliseo de Puerto Rico, SAN JUAN: [CDLP tank top, Stone Island pants, Nike shoes]

8 May - Jeunesse Arena, RIO DE JANEIRO: [Saul Nash trousers] [Wales Bonner tank top]

11 May - Allianz Parquq, SÃO PAULO: [MSGM x Google Pixel “Daily Metro” print All-over Set]

12 May - Ligga Arena Cap, CURITIBA: [Y-3 shirt] [Adidas x Y-3 pants]

15 May - Antel Arena, MONTEVIDEO [black Burberry tank top] [Stone Island pants] [Axel Arigato shoes] [Palace x Gap jacket] [Palace x Gap track pants]

18 May - Velez Sarsfield, BUENOS AIRES: [CP Company t-shirt, pants, and jacket]

21 May - Jockey Club del Paraguay, ASUNCIÓN: [Acne Studios white tank top]. [Adidas Y3 pants] [Adidas shoes]

23 May - Bicentenario Stadium, SANTIAGO: [Wales Bonner jacket]

26 May - Arena 1, LIMA: [Mastermind t-shirt] [Stone Island pants]

28 May - Coliseo Medplus, BOGOTÁ: [Prada polo shirt and pants] [Salomon shoes]

30 May - Parque Viva, SAN JOSE: [Saul Nash tank top] [CP company pants] [Axel Arigato shoes]

1 Jun - Autodrómo Hermanos Rodriguez - Curva 4, MEXICO CITY: [Burberry shirt]

4 Jun - Auditorio Josefa Ortiz de Domínguez, QUERETARO: [Maison Margiela tank] [Stone Island pants]

6 Jun - Arena VFG, GUADALAJARA: [Saul Nash tank top] [CP company pants] [Axel Arigato shoes]

AWAY FROM HOME FESTIVAL 2024

8 June- MERIDA, Mexico: [Mastermind t-shirt] [Casablanca football set] [Stone Island shorts]

PINKPOP FESTIVAL

22 Jun - LANDGRAAF, Netherlands: [Givenchy t-shirt and pants]

MAIN SQUARE FEST

4 Jul - ARRAS, France: [Givenchy t-shirt] [Stone Island pants]

RUISROCK FESTIVAL

7 Jul - Ruissalo Island, TURKU, Finland: [Maison Margiela black numeric wool gilet] [Adidas Y3 pants]

MEO MARES VIVAS FESTIVAL

21 Jul - VILA NOVA DE GAIA, Portugal: [Casablanca powder blue jacket] [Adidas black track jacket: backstage] [Moncler white sneakers]

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20 July- PORTO DE A CORUÑA, Spain: [Burberry black cotton track pants] [Burberry cotton mesh vest in jungle]

ARENAL SOUND FESTIVAL

2 Aug - BURRIANA, CASTELLO, Spain: [Burberry green shirt and swim shorts] [Nike white shoes]

SANTANDER FESTIVAL

3 Aug - SANTANDER, Spain: [Stone Island t-shirt] [Adidas Y3 black shoes] [Stone Island black pants] [ [Lacoste t-shirt] [Stone Island shorts]

UNTOLD FESTIVAL

8 Aug - CLUJ-NAPOCA, Romania: [Prada black tank] [CP Company track pants in “Thyme”]

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10 Aug - BUDAPEST, Hungary: [Adidas UK x Wales Bonner neon yellow tank top] [Adidas x jjjjound track pants]

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16 Aug - ST. PÖLTEN, Austria: [CP company t-shirt] [CP company cargo pants]

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18 AUG - CHARLEVILLE-MÉZIÈRES, France: [Ahluwalia polo shirt]

VICTORIOUS FESTIVAL

23 Aug - PORTSMOUTH, UK: [Saul Nash black vest and pants] [Martine Rose baseball cap] [Ray Ban sunglasses] [Axel Arigato shoes]

ZURICH OPEN AIR FESTIVAL

24 AUG - ZURICH, Switzerland: [Casablanca Paris t-shirt] [Nike shorts]

FESTNINGEN FESTIVAL

30 Aug - TRONDHEIM, Norway: [Burberry black t-shirt and jogging pants]

MONZA GRAND PRIX 2024

31 AUG - 1 SEP - MONZA, Italy: [Axel Arigato Drew knitted vest] [Prada denim jeans] [Palmes Olde shorts]

LIVE FROM FEST ISTANBUL

6 Sep - Festival Park Yenikapı, ISTANBUL, Turkey: [Stone Island t-shirt in onion rose]

LOLLAPALOOZA BERLIN

7 Sep - Olympiastadion & Olympiapark, BERLIN, Germany: [Amiri shirt and shorts] [Sex Pistols t-shirt] [Sex Pistol white t-shirt]

SUPERBLOOM FESTIVAL

8 Sep - Olympiapark and Olympiastadion, MUNICH, Germany: [Prada jacket] [Nike shorts] [Stone Island t-shirt]

[fatehbaz]

While obviously central to, say, Robinson Crusoe (1719), Moby-Dick (1851), or Treasure Island (1883), the sea also drives some powerful narrative turbines in Jane Eyre (1847), Great Expectations (1861), and Tess of the d’Urbervilles (1891). Elleke Boehmer’s remark that imperial representations were ‘curiously invisible and yet ubiquitous’ in Victorian literature could also be applied to the sea, the means of building and sustaining that imperial network. [...]

Increasingly, critics have begun to draw out the role of the sea in a number of texts we might think of as non-sea-literature. [...] After all, most canonical Gothic novels include at least one significant sea voyage, shipwreck, or ocean storm. Consider Robert Walton’s ice-bound ship in Frankenstein (1818), Dracula’s voyages to and from England, the wreck that casts the Spaniard on Melmoth’s shore [...].

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By the twentieth century the Age of Sail had given way to steam power and iron ships (a transition which spiked in the 1880s and 90s), and the whaling industry was soon in sharp decline. Other changes followed, such as the way improved navigation and nutrition, along with steam and the building of the Panama and Suez canals, reduced both the danger and the frequency of voyages around Cape Horn and the Cape of Good Hope. [...]

This is a ghost ship for the twentieth century, a new danger generated by steam power, large metal ships, their accompanying speed, and increasingly busy shipping lanes. There was no directly equivalent discrepancy of size and power between sailing craft in the previous century, while these days, radar, radio and GPS navigation mitigate against (though certainly do not eliminate) the risks of leisure craft entering shipping lanes and the problems of fog. The Gothic trope of the ghost ship is no more timeless than any other ghost. Historically situated, it becomes legible not by separating but by blending Gothic expression with nautical reality [...].

Modern uses of the sea (including opportunities for warfare, scientific investigation, oil drilling, or industrialised fishing) affect the ocean as an imagined space. Increasing interest in the ocean as a space of exploration and strange sea-creatures, for example, coincided with the rise of popular cinema; films such as Jaws (1975), the numerous Godzilla films, The Abyss (1989) and Pacific Rim (2013) exploit the mystery and terror of animal or alien threats from the unknowable ocean deep. [...]

These examples take some by now familiar nautical Gothic themes (dangerous unknown regions and creatures, concealment, isolation, depths vs. surface, claustrophobia, disorientation) and relocate them in new contexts of leisure, science, technophilia, and global commerce. [...]

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The mid-nineteenth century was when the open ocean became a destination as well as a conduit: ‘a workplace, a leisure area, a stage for adventure, and a natural environment’. Nonetheless, the twenty-first century moment makes it particularly urgent to recognise the history of the sea. Philip Steinberg points out that the ‘one sea’ we now know the oceans comprise is a relatively new idea [...].

In 2017, the familiarity of seeing the world’s oceans through aerial and satellite photography conveys a sense of the ocean as holistic, but also reifies it as non-human and timeless, rather than as socially constructed, vulnerable, and rapidly changing. Far from unchangeable, however, the ocean registers damaging effects of climate change, consumerism [...]. [A] ‘burgeoning sense of an environmental crisis of the ocean is emerging hand in hand with the dawning recognition that our everyday lives affect, and are influenced by, the ocean.’

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All text above by: Emily Alder. “Through Oceans Darkly: Sea Literature and the Nautical Gothic.” Gothic Studies Volume 19 Issue 2. 2017. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]