#fernando’s back tattoo will never not be on my mind

[standing-restart]

Okay so because you started with the back gif I had a weirdly wholesome? soft? thought.

Fernando letting (reader) go to town with some markers colouring in his tattoo to help calm them down because he knows they want to colour in but they also want hugs and contact.

I'm literally losing my mind over this, mostly because this would be beyond the human realm of softness.

It's not something he'd ever suggest, nor is it something he'll allow without a sarcastic remark or at the very least an eye roll. But he knows you've been tracing his tattoo with your fingertips for a while now. Just as he knows that the few strokes of red which used to be there have faded with time.

He struggles with sitting still, and it's a bit uncomfortable because you have your arm around his shoulder so you're just squeezed against his back while trying to colour. He runs his fingers up and down your arm in soothing patterns, though, so it's not all bad.

Halfway through he gets fidgety. Reaching for things, moving around so much that it's nearly impossible to get any colouring done. Only half the tattoo is in colour when you decide to call it quits and just press your forehead against it.

(Yes, the markers will stain your skin too, but that's part of the fun.)

It's not that he doesn't want to give you the opportunity to colour in his tattoo, or that he doesn't want to help you calm down/relax. It's just that he genuinely doesn't know how to physically sit still for so long. So yeah, you never quite get to finish that tattoo, but you do get to have him place soft kisses against the arm he's holding (hostage) and generally a whole lot of hugs and contact.

#i wish he was a better man ..... but alas. #he's trying his best though and that's all that matters! #FA #sfw #chaoticzoomies

[enamoured-x]

so it goes

Summary: When Alex moves in across the hall, Rio knows he’s in trouble. A good girl like her would never want anything to do with him, or so he thinks. 

Word count: 2k

Chapter 3

“Best boss ever!” Hope said as she took a cup of coffee from the tray Alex had brought in for them and then a donut from the box she had laid out. It was around nine am, she had decided to grab some breakfast for everyone before heading to work. 

“Best employees ever!” Alex laughed. Julia and Allie grabbed their share. 

They talked a little and finished their food before they all set out to do what needed to be done for the day. Alex was keen on doing some deep cleaning today so she went about the place wiping down things and dusting. The music was on and she didn’t shy away from dancing and singing, occasionally the other girls joining her. A few regulars would walk in and Alex pulled them in to dance, even a few older ladies who all left with big smiles and handfuls of flowers. 

“Alejandra!” Alex turned to the front door to see her favorite regular come in. He was an older hispanic man, in his late sixties named Fernando. He was always coming in to buy flowers for his wife, Carmen. Alex had met her a handful of times when Fernando wanted the two of them to meet. Alex had known him since she opened the shop, he was one of the first few to shop with her and ever since then they became close. She admired the man so much. He was kind and always giving her advice when he could tell something was wrong with her. Sometimes she’d even give in and talked about whatever was going on with her and he’d listen and comfort her. He reminded her of her grandpa when he was still alive. She enjoyed his company and loved him as if he really were her family. 

“Fernando! Hace tiempo que no te veo!” Alex pulled the man in for a hug. 

“Yo se, lo siento, mija.” She waved off his apology. She was glad to see him again. It had been two weeks since she last saw him and he usually stopped in one or twice a week to say hi and to buy flowers. 

“Does Carmen like sunflowers? We just got them in again.” Sunflowers usually went out quickly, the ones that were delivered from the local farm were big and vibrant so it made sense that people snatched them up right away. She would even take some home to have on her kitchen table at times. 

“Carmen loves all of them.” He said, his Spanish accent coming out. 

“Well, I can wrap some up for you right now.” Alex excused herself and the girls flocked to Fernando to say hi. They all loved him and Fernando was keen on them learning Spanish so sometimes he’d try to teach them. Alex wrapped up a bundle of sunflowers in brown paper and then tied them with a yellow ribbon. It was the same simple look she always did for the sunflowers, the flowers themselves already popped so they didn’t need detail on the packaging. She walked back out and handed Fernando the flowers. 

“Gracias, mija. How much?” 

“For you, fifteen.” He rolled his eyes at Alex knowingly. Alex always gave him a discount and he both loved and hated her for it. He handed her a twenty, knowing she wouldn’t take more than that. Alex knew if her dad was here he would scold her for lowering the prices left and right. But Alex simply did not care, she thought of it more as a membership deal for her loyal customers. Besides, it’s not like she did it often. 

Alex continued talking to Fernando and when he mentioned that his and Carmen’s anniversary was coming up she led him to the back room where she showed him a few bouquets she was working on. 

“Hey, Alex, your neighbor is here.” Allie wiggled her eyebrows as she came to inform Alex. She couldn’t help but blush as she realized Allie was talking about Rio. They had hung out a few more times since she first asked him. Nothing too special, just a quick bite to eat for dinner again the other night and then some drinks at the bar around the corner from their apartment. She found herself really enjoying his company, even though he’d never give her too much, he gave her just enough to feel like the communication was working both ways. Besides, he’d open up more when he felt comfortable. She was patient. 

Alex cleared her throat and spared a glance at Fernando who was eyeing both girls. 

“Um,” she didn’t want to be that girl but, “how do I look?” Allie laughed.

“You look beautiful as always.” 

“Hmm, maybe I’ll consider that raise after all.” Alex joked. 

“You never told me about a boyfriend.” Fernando said, Alex ignored Allie’s laugh. 

“Not a boyfriend, Fernando.” Alex couldn’t help but flush under his gaze. 

“Hmm, well you look as pretty.” She smiled at his words.

Although Allie and Fernando said she looked fine, she still couldn’t help but take off her apron and straighten out her dress. They made their way to the front of the shop and Alex smiled at him when he leaned up off the counter when he saw her. Fernando assessed him for a few seconds and before Alex could introduce the two of them, he was bidding goodbye.

“Vamos la próxima semana por un cafecito.” Fernando suggested to Alex and she quickly agreed and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He spared one last look at Rio and said bye to the girls before walking out. 

Alex turned to look at Rio who seemed amused at the interaction. 

“Hey, mama.” Rio’s voice always got to her. She found herself wanting to hear him talk more often.

“Hey, Rio. Come back for more flowers?” She asked.

“Nah, I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by, maybe take my friend to lunch?” Alex knew the girls were in the back room totally listening in on their conversation. She knew how it sounded, but she didn’t care. She was starving and she did want to spend more time with him. 

“I have things handled here, don’t worry about it.” Julia came from the back, waving Alex off. The other girls came out and said just about the same thing. Alex was going to kill them for being so nosey. 

Rio smirked at Alex knowing she couldn’t say no now, she had no excuse. Besides, he had a feeling Alex wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see her. 

“Okay, yeah.” Alex nodded her head and grabbed her purse and phone from under the counter. They gave Alex smirks as her and Rio walked out the door. 

“Where are we going?” Alex looked up at Rio. 

“You like greek food?” She nodded her head.

“There’s a place up here that has the best euros in town.” Rio explained as he nodded up the street. It was a really nice day to walk and she got to spend time with him so she was happy. 

“Your workers seemed…”

“Nosey?” Alex finished his sentence. Rio laughed.

“They are. Any man even gets within a five foot radius and they’re planning our wedding.” 

All the girls were like that. They were Alex’s closest friends and that directly meant they were very interested in her love life, or lack thereof. They had tried to set her up numerous times but Alex didn’t give in. She figured she’d find someone when she did. Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in her thinking that they would come to her but she stuck by that. 

“You get a lot of men getting close to you?” Alex wasn’t stupid, she knew the underlying question there. A question that surprisingly hadn’t come up in their recent meet ups. Then again, they never got too serious, they would just talk about random things, movies, shows, her flower shop. 

“No, my last relationship was about a year ago. I haven’t really dated since.” They had arrived at the little greek shop and placed their orders. Rio quickly paid, telling her that he invited her. Alex couldn’t argue with that logic after she used it on him the other night.

“What happened?” Rio couldn’t help but ask. He wanted to know if she was still getting over someone, if she was open to someone, if she might be open to him one day. 

“He thought it was stupid to waste my degree and open a business, let alone a flower shop. So I left.” Alex shrugged. She harbored no harsh feelings toward him anymore, that relationship was long gone. 

Rio didn’t know where to start first, that Alex had a degree or that her dumbass ex-boyfriend was lucky he wasn't around anymore. He only knew Alex for a week and already he was protective over her. Besides, what kind of asshole doesn’t support their girl? 

“He’s an idiot. You seem to be doing just fine.” Alex smiled at him. 

“I am, it was a long time ago, I’m over it.” She waved it off and he knew she was serious. 

“And the man?” Rio asked her. He hoped he didn’t seem too forward with the questions but they were both already comfortable with each other now, he hoped she wouldn’t mind. 

“Fernando. He’s been a regular since we first opened up. He’s basically like my grandpa.”

“He seems protective.” Rio didn’t miss the way Fernando was eyeing him. He understood why now, he cared for Alex. 

“He is and I love him for it.” 

Their order was ready before he could talk and they both grabbed their euros and drinks and headed outside to sit on one of the tables in the sun. 

“Let’s talk about this degree.”

“I went to school for English, which my ex and my father had something to say about.” She had talked briefly about her father the other night, just that she didn’t talk to him much and then she left it alone. Rio wondered if this had anything to do with why she wasn’t close to him.

“English?” 

“Yeah, I love literature. I love to read, so I went with it.” A girl who loved books and flowers, Rio was sure they had to seem like an odd pair. Her books and flowers to his guns and tattoos. They were a damn walking cliche. But they got along just fine and they did have things in common. 

“How about you? Did you go to school?” Alex asked as she took another bite of her euro. Rio wasn’t lying when he said they made the best.

“Nah, I graduated high school and was glad to be done with school.” 

“What do you do?” Rio clenched his jaw. He knew it would come up, hell, he was surprised it hadn’t come up yet. But damn, he didn’t want to lie to her but he had to. And that was the point he had been trying to reason with, he would always have to lie to her. She was too good for him and if she ever found out she would run the other way. But again, Rio couldn’t help himself. If he had to lie to her just to get a chance with her, he had to do it. Maybe, maybe, she’d see that he wasn’t what everyone made him out to be. Yeah, he did fucked up shit but he wasn’t all bad, at least that’s what he’d tell himself when he’d lie down at night. Maybe, just maybe if she got to know him then she’d understand. Maybe she would come to terms with what he does. Rio felt like he was kidding himself though, a girl like Alex would want nothing to do with the kind of life he led. Yet here he was, smiling at her and making her blush. He had no self control around her already. 

“Freelance,” Rio felt so fucking stupid saying it but he couldn’t think straight when she was looking at him like that. 

Alex pegged him for the type to have no boss but freelance was the last thing she would have thought of.

“Doing what?” 

“A variety of things, boring stuff.” Boring was definitely not a word to describe what he did but anything to make her uninterested would do the trick.

“Anyways, lemme hear more about this fancy degree you got.”

Taglist: @thickemadame

(i’m doing tags for this so let me know if you want to be tagged!)

#rio x reader #good girls rio #rio good girls

[ofliions]

MALUMA, HIM/HE, CISMALE ⟨❄️ ⟩ we’ve been keeping an eye out for [ ( TWENTY-EIGHT ) JOAQUIN DE LEON ] lately. they have been living in WICKERY FALLS for about [ ALL HIS LIFE ] but something sparked my interest more. as it turns out - the [ DE LEONS ] family have indeed tried their best to tuck away [ JOAQUINS ]’s [ VIOLENT ] tendencies, but it only seems to bring out [ HIS ] [ ANGER ] more. according to an anonymous source, [ HE ] can be [ OPTIMISTIC ]. they are a pretty cool [ TATTOO ARTIST/ OWNER OF INKED ] most shocking of all, it seems that [ JOAQUIN ] has been keeping a secret: one that could destroy [ HIS ] life. the shocking truth about [ JOAQUIN ] is that [ SECRET REMOVED ] but the thing is nothing stays secret for long, especially in WICKERY FALLS. ( ooc: keeks, she/her, 24, est )

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 : joaquin de leon


𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 : kk/quinn


𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 : single


𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 : Fernando &. jazmine


𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sister ( fabienne )


𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐒 : doberman named rocky


𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 : august 15


𝐀𝐆𝐄 : twenty - eight


𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 : wickery falls, colorado


𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 : tattoo wrist and owner ( also an uc FBI agent )


𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 : heterosexual


𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 : english,spanish,french


𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 : brown ( but dyes it frequently )


𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 : brown


𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 : 6’0
𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂 : leo


𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : wickery falls university

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄


joaquin de leon was the youngest out of the two kids , he was the apple of his mother’s eyes . never could he have done no wrong but even at a young age , quinn was never one to control his anger . his volatile nature always getting the best of him . his father tried his best to talk to him and show him the right way but a fathers love can only go do far.


joaquin was set in his ways , he believed that things should be done accordingly and that was no exception to that people that he dated . there was always an issue , on and off repeatedly and sometimes he wouldn’t even come home at times . thanks to fabienne , his big sister stepping in and telling him that he needed to let the girl go . It was exactly what he did , leaving her and leaving wickery falls behind .


present time , it’s been only half a decade since joaquins been back in wickery falls . he’s the owner of inked and an undercover FBI agent and in his mind there is nothing that could ever hurt him or so that’s what he thinks …..

#wickeryfallshqintro #honestly idk what this is #but lets do things !

[endlessflame]

Family Reunion (Connor x MC, Logan x MC)

Summary: Maribel (RoD MC) and her family, including her cousin Vanessa (ILITW MC), get together in Lake Tahoe, California for a family reunion.

Rating: M

Author’s note: This is for @cora-nova‘s Choices August Challenge, bonus prompt Family Reunion.

Tags: @choices-august-challenge @cora-nova @brightpinkpeppercorn @mfackenthal @desiree-0816

Maribel closed the door to her hotel room and began walking towards the elevator. She was looking forward to seeing her mother's side of the family again. It had been too long since they were all together. They were spread out along the West Coast; she and her father were in Los Angeles, her maternal grandparents were in San Diego, Uncle Tony was in San Francisco, and Aunt Sara, Uncle Fernando, and her cousin Vanessa were in Westchester, Oregon. They had chosen Lake Tahoe as the site of their family reunion because it was a central location. As she walked down the hall of her floor, she heard a door open.

"Maribel!"

She turned around, rushed over to Vanessa, and gave her a hug. "It's so good to see you!"

"You too!" Vanessa motioned to the young blond man beside her. "This is Connor. Connor, this is my cousin Maribel."

Maribel smiled at him warmly. "It's nice to meet you, Connor. Vanessa's told me a lot about you."

"Oh, has she?  Connor grinned. "It's nice to meet you too."

Vanessa looked to Maribel. "Don't tell Grandma and Grandpa that Connor and I are sharing a room, OK?"

"Of course! They'd probably want to drag you off to confession immediately."

They took the elevator downstairs and headed to the hotel restaurant, where the family was meeting for dinner. Her father, grandparents, Sara, and Fernando were already seated at a large table. They sat down and began talking.

Not long afterward, Connor turned to Maribel. "You weren't kidding about confession, were you?"

"No, why?" Her question was answered as a priest approached the table. "Oh! That's our great-uncle Pedro."

Vanessa looked from Connor to Pedro. "Uncle Pedro, this is my boyfriend Connor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Father," said Connor.

A few minutes later, Tony walked in with another man, younger than him, with blond hair that had been partially dyed green. "Hi, everyone. This is Greg."

Maribel's grandparents looked at each other, and then her grandmother turned to face Greg. "I'm Tony's mother, Silvia, and this is my husband Manuel." She then turned to Tony. "I didn't know you were bringing a friend."

"Greg moved in with me recently," said Tony.

"Oh, you brought your roommate!" Silvia glanced at Pedro, then looked at Tony pointedly.

Tony glared at his mother. Before he could say anything, the waiter arrived. After everyone had ordered, he brought a bottle of wine for the table.

"None for you," Maribel's father said to her.

"Fine, I'll have a Diet Coke." After everything she had been through with Logan, she was no innocent, but apparently a glass of wine with dinner was still too much to ask for, even though everyone else was having some.

Once they all had their drinks, Manuel raised his glass. "To our family. Salud!"

The others raised their glasses as well. "Salud!"

"Nice tattoo, Maribel!" said Tony.

Maribel smiled. "Thanks."

"Don't encourage her," her father said.

Like she couldn't make up her own mind! "I was thinking of getting another one, actually."

"You should come visit me. I'll take you to a great tattoo parlor. Rahim's work is magical." Tony grinned. "And he's easy on the eyes, too."

When their food arrived, Pedro led them in prayer. "Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

They began eating, and continued to catch up with each other. Maribel filled in her family on her first year at Langston.

Silvia directed her attention towards Vanessa and Connor. "You two have been together for a while now. Are you engaged yet?"

"Not officially," said Vanessa. "We want to get married eventually, but not yet. I want to go to grad school first. Then my friend Dan and I want to open up a practice together. He's going to be a counselor, and I want to do animal-assisted therapy."

"Vanessa is so good with animals," said Sara. "When we came back from Portugal a few years ago, she had adopted a kitten, tamed a crow, and was petsitting our neighbor's dog. It was like coming home to a zoo!"

"And what about you, Maribel? There must be lots of nice young men at Langston. Have you met anyone special?" Silvia asked.

Maribel reached up and touched the sparkplug that hung around her neck. She never took it off; she always wanted a piece of Logan close to her heart. She still wasn't over him, and she wondered if she ever would be. "No, I'm focusing more on my studies." Maybe she'd better change the subject. Logan was still a sore subject with her father, and she didn't want to risk him coming up. "So, what are we doing tomorrow?"

"It's going to be a nice sunny day," said Fernando. "How about we go to the lake? We could swim, or go boating."

"Good thing Uncle Pedro's here, in case we need an exorcism," said Vanessa.

Silvia's eyes widened. "What?"

"You never know what might be out there," Vanessa pointed out. "And I heard things from my friend Milla. What if the lake is haunted?"

"You have such a vivid imagination," Sara said. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"Anyone want to check out the casino tonight?" asked Greg.

"I do!" replied Tony.

Manuel shook his head. "You're throwing your money away."

"Greedy people try to get rich quick but don’t realize they’re headed for poverty. Proverbs 28:22," said Pedro.

Tony looked to Maribel, Vanessa, and Connor. "You guys want to come?"

Maribel thought about the last time that she had been in a casino. She still had nightmares about being trapped in the vault after seeing Jason stab a member of his task force to death. When the gas grenade had gone off, she thought she was going to die. "No, I had a really bad experience in a casino. I'm afraid it might bring back memories."

"You lost big, huh?" Tony asked.

"I almost lost everything." If Logan hadn't opened the vault and rescued her, she would have lost her life.

Vanessa looked at Maribel sympathetically, then turned back to Tony. "We'll pass too. Connor and I will keep Maribel company."

Later than night, Maribel went to Vanessa and Connor's room, and the three of them spent time talking. Without the older generations, they could speak more freely.

"You're an artist, right?" Maribel asked Connor.

Connor nodded. "I mostly do sculpture."

"Are you any good at drawing?"

"It's not what I usually do, but I can draw, yeah."

Maribel looked at Vanessa. "Did you tell him what I went through last summer?"

"Of course not. That's between us."

Maribel turned to Connor. "You know how I said I wanted to get another tattoo? I was hoping maybe you could design it for me."

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

She took a deep breath. "Last summer I found out that I was pregnant. I know it wouldn't have been easy, but I wanted to keep the baby." Tears welled up in her eyes. "But...I lost it."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry." Connor leaned in and gave her a hug.

"Thanks. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to get a tattoo in memory of my baby. I was thinking of an angel with a ribbon wrapped around its robe, half blue and half pink, since I don't know if the baby was a boy or a girl. That's the miscarriage ribbon. And maybe you could make the angel look like a combination of me and Logan. The father." Maribel reached for her phone and opened up the photo app. She scrolled through her pictures and found one of Logan, then showed it to Connor. "That's him."

"I would be honored." Connor walked over to the desk and found a pad of paper. He sketched the design, then showed it to Maribel and Vanessa. "Here's a rough idea of what it would look like. You'll have to imagine how it would look with the colors."

Maribel was overwhelmed with emotions as she looked at the drawing. "It's so beautiful. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. I hope I did it justice."

"You did." Maribel touched her shoulder. "Think it would look good here? I like the idea of an angel on my shoulder."

"Definitely," Connor told her.

"That's perfect," said Vanessa.

"I bet Logan would love it too," said Maribel.

"Are you in touch with him at all?" Vanessa asked.

"Not as often as I would like. But at least I know how to reach him." Maribel picked up her phone and took a picture of the sketch, then sent a text to Logan. This is the tattoo I want to get in memory of our baby. Do you like it?

A little later, Logan replied. I love it. It's beautiful, and so are you. I miss you.

Maribel smiled as she read the text. "He loves it," she told Connor and Vanessa. "I hope you can meet him someday."

"I hope we can too. I know you miss him." Vanessa hugged Maribel tightly. "Remember, I'm always here for you. We're family."

#choices august challenge #connor x mc #logan x mc #tw: pregnancy loss #playchoices fanfic #choices rod #it lives in the woods #connor green

[b0ygirlfriend]

ain’t no rest for the wicked

my @ccsecretsanta gift for @chipchopped !

so so sorry it’s late!!

—————————

james is just minding his own business, hunched over a light in some back alley with a cig between his lips, when he feels the cold steel of a 9mm against the base of his skull. he rolls his eyes, dropping the lighter in favour of slowly raising his hands.

the voice from behind him speaks in rough, low tones, heavily accented.

“wallet. hand it over, and you live.”

james huffs out a laugh, fingers twitching for the .38 tucked into his waistband, and drops one arm to take the cigarette from his mouth, dropping it to join his light.

“i think i’ll take my chances.”

the muzzle is pressed harder, and he hides his wince under another laugh. he has the foreigner on his knees with his own gun to his head before the hammer can slide into place.

“nice piece, buddy. mind if i borrow it?” james taunts, thumbing a worn in groove on the grip. the blond at his feet just grins up at him, shoving his head up into the 9mm.

“take it if you want. i’ll come back for it.”

james stares at him, considers it for a second before uncocking the gun. he shoves it beside his .38 before offering a hand to the other man, some skinny little runt with half finished tattoos on his exposed forearms.

james looks him over, raising an eyebrow. “you got a name, kid?”

nameless-without-a-gun lets james pull him to his feet, seeming to hesitate for a second before he speaks.

“sasha. you?”

“nova. word of advice - don’t challenge anybody you aren’t certain you can beat.”

the kid - sasha, he corrects himself - rolls his eyes and nods.

“there are not many people who wouldn’t have killed me right there, you know.”

james scoffs, pulls out another cigarette to replace the one he lost.

“yeah, well. you caught me on a good day. get out of here before i change my mind.”

sasha looks thoughtful, eyebrows furrowed before he nods once again, turns away. “see you around, nova.”

staring at his retreating figure, james wonders why he didn’t kill him. it wouldn’t have been hard, and james doubts he would have been missed. maybe ‘cos it’s the same mercy james would’ve wanted to be shown himself, when he first started out. at least his lighter didn’t break, he notes as he stoops to pick it up. and he finally got his cig.

—

it’s two years later, and while james has spotted sasha around the place, he’s stayed out of his way. it hasn’t mattered much anyway, because along with brett, - a guy he met on a heist with biceps larger than james’ head - he’s managed to take over a little slice of LA, and even managed to avoid the notice of the kingpin. everybody knows that everything south of division street is their territory. brett (hundar) and the kid that came trailing behind him, (modest) found an empty warehouse down on san fernando road, and the three of them somehow managed to gather enough furniture to pretend they had any idea what they were doing, like they were professionals.

generally, things were going pretty good for them. no rivals in the general nearby area, a healthy cash flow, and no broken bones. (yet)

things were going pretty good, until sasha decides to show his face again.

it’s a pretty routine job, overtaking some rundown gang hideout downtown, should be easy in, straight out when the job’s done - before the rest show up - and check in a few weeks later, find a new den for the picking. should be, could have been - until sasha shows up, blows the whole thing to shit.

they’re just beginning to come to an end when the bastard bursts through the doors behind the table james was taking cover under, and opens fire on all the guys they had tried so hard not to kill. except, he’s one man against a group of maybe 7, even if they had been almost overpowered a second ago.

“goddamnit, sasha!” james yells, scrambling for better cover now all the bullets were coming in his direction. sasha follows, because he’s hell bent on getting james killed, apparently, and hunches down beside him, half of his gangly body hanging out like a living bullseye.

brett’s going in for the kill now that james is a target, the ever loyal wolf, and trevor is back at base hunched over a computer, keeping the cops’ interest in what’s going on dampened.

brett never misses, and the bodies drop like the beat of those shitty EDM songs trevor likes to play to piss him off, but even with his skill and james’ loose trigger finger, they’re outnumbered. the time spent attempting to recover from sasha’s appearance opened up the opportunity for the gang’s reinforcements to show up.

james glares up at the russian just in time to watch his whole body roll backwords with the force of a bullet, just beside his right shoulder, under his collarbone. it’s a bad place to be hit, and the blood starts pouring. james has him on the ground beside him before sasha drops his gun.

“you goddamn idiot,” he hisses over sasha’s wincing, rolling him onto his side to check for an exit wound. of course there isn’t one, because that would be too easy.

“what kind of idiot bursts in with no protection?” james asks himself, ignoring the blond’s yell as he pushes his hand onto the wound.

i can’t just let him bleed out here, he thinks. brett’s still shooting, but a quick glance in his direction shows him signaling for james to get out of here while he’s keeping the others distracted. he’s so frustrated he could scream, but he hefts sasha over his shoulder and makes a break for it all the same, throwing him onto the backseat of their torn up getaway van - pushing a cloth into his hands and pressing it to his shoulder - before climbing in, revving the engine and tearing off of the dirt path. sasha is spitting curses, slumped onto the seat in front of him. james knows trevor’ll already be on his way to collect brett, watching the whole time, so he switches lanes, heads for a motel they know doesn’t ask questions. it’s barely five minutes before he’s screeching to a stop, yanking their emergency first aid kit from under the driver’s seat.

james motions for sasha to walk in front of him when he gets out, rolling his eyes at the time it takes him to extract himself from the back seat. he slips the receptionist a 50, motions up the stairs, the path familiar to him by now. their room is at the back of the motel, usually reserved for prostitutes and drug deals, but it has heat and running water and that’s all james needs right now.

after he’s got confirmation from brett that he’s out and safe, it doesn’t take james long to go through the motions of cleaning up the wound, lifting off sasha’s shirt. the bullet isn’t deep, easy enough to pull out with his pliers. a few stitches later and sasha’s sighing in relief.

“knew it looked worse than it was,” he mutters, and james rolls his eyes at him.

“so did i, dumbass. still couldn’t leave you there, you would’ve been killed immediately.”

a silence falls over the pair, while james searches his pockets in hope of a forgotten cigarette. a second later there’s one in front of his face. he takes it from sasha’s hand, fishing out his lighter and moving to lean against the window.

he takes a few puffs before he speaks again.

“so, sasha. america treating you well?”

the russian laughs, wincing when it pulls on the new stitches in his shoulder.

“you could say that.”

he looks different, blonded his hair, made progress on his tattoos. lost the accent a little. honestly, he’s not too hard on the eyes. he speaks again.

“and it’s immortal. not sasha.”

“immortal, huh.” james rolls the name around in his mouth. “why the change?”

“sasha was my - a variation of my real name. too vulnerable.” his voice quieter, suddenly, and james drops it.

teasing, james opens his mouth again. “well, immortal. you look better than you did back then, at least. skinny little twink tryna’ rob me in a back alley.”

the memory is still strong in his mind - as it must be in immortal’s too, because they both laugh together. immortal’s got a nice laugh, james notes, strong and full-bodied.

“hey, you took my gun! took me a long time to find one as good.”

“and i still have it. maybe one day you can earn it back.”

“maybe i can,” immortal replies, and it’s a challenge, a game.

james can’t wait to play.

#cow chop #novahd #fakechop #fic #cc secret santa

[graceomeallain]

11/11/11 Tag Game

I was tagged by @igotablankpage and @rainy-rose, so I’ll answer both sets. The rules are, answer 11 questions, ask 11 new ones and tag 11 people.

My answers for my OCs in Back From the Dead Red:

1. Who out of your OC’s would get (or has) a tattoo?

Most of them - almost all of them are sailors, so have nautical tattoos. Jack has three, and toys with a fourth.

2. What element do your OC’s bend (ala Avatar the last airbender)

Definitely fire for Jack and Matt, and probably for Fernando as well. Anne, probably earth, and same for Nicolas and Bonny. Water for Lilian, and air for Cal. (This WIP has a big cast, can you tell?)

3. Who is your favourite OC to write?

Jesus that’s hard. Love writing Jack and Anne of course, but of the secondary characters it would have to be Bonny, she’s such a badass.

4. Favourite book and author?

This is pretty hard, since I don’t actually read nearly as much as I should - I don’t know about author, but I love Alice in Wonderland (still a child I guess).

5. Are any of your OC’s avid readers?

Anne! Her cabin is stacked with books. A lot of the others either can’t or don’t like to read, but Lilian quite likes to as well.

6. If your OC had superpowers, what would they be?

Hmmmm. I’m not sure what they would have, but I think if Jack could pick, she’d want to fly, and Nicolas would probably choose x-ray vision so he could see through an opponent’s hand in cards.

7. Which of your OC’s is always early? Who is late?

Lilian was raised as a lady, so she’s always perfectly on time. Harry and Fernando are always late because they oversleep.

8. What are your OC’s dream jobs?

This one’s pretty hard, because it’s historical fiction. A lot of them became pirates because they wanted to be, but Nicolas’s dream job would probably be something different - anything that would make him enough money to gamble.

9. How do you stay motivated to write?

It’s usually a toss up between write and study, so writing is definitely the lesser of two evils, even when I’m not feeling it.

10. What social media do your OC’s have?

Again, historical fiction makes this one pretty hard, but if they lived in the modern day, Jack would have Twitter (mostly to take the piss out of Donald Trump) and Anne would have a readblr with really aesthetic pictures. Bonny would have a catstagram that she’d never tell a soul about.

11. Yours, and your oc’s favourite tv show?

Mine is black sails atm (go watch it, gay pirates). Jack and Matt would probably love something comic like South Park, and Anne would like something with more of a plot (Game of Thrones, maybe).

1. Is your WIP part of a series or standalone?

Part of a trilogy - so far I’m nearing the end of editing the first one (and hoping to find a beta for it) and a couple of chapters from the end of a VERY rough draft of the second.

2. Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Tons - I would just start with no outline and fizzle out. Most of them are deleted now.

3. Do you create the characters first or the plot?

Usually one or two major characters, then plot, then the rest. I think I had four characters in mind when I started plotting - Jack, Anne, Matt and Nicolas.

4. Do you use face claims? If so, who?

Yes. For Bonny and Cal I couldn’t help using Clara Paget and Toby Schmidt from Black Sails because they were so good, but usually I just put the character’s major features into google and find a stock photo who fits.

5.  What is something that you wish you knew before you started writing?

It’s okay if the first draft sucks.

6. If your wip got a tv adaptation what kind of adaptation do you want it to be? Tv series? Mini series? Movie?

Probably TV series - movies always cut things out, and there are too many characters to properly develop in a movie.

7. Which of your OCs keeps surprising you and why? 

Edward - I intended him as a fairly minor character to make the plot work, but he’s ended up being more major than I planned, and he and Jack end up getting along, which I didn’t anticipate.

8. Which age group is your wip addressed to?

Literally anyone who will read it. (Please.)

9. Where does your main OC spend the most time? 

On her ship, specifically in the rigging, because she loves being high up.

10. What is your OC’s family situation?

Jack’s is much better than most of her crew - she’s an orphan, but she has her grandma, grandpa and little brother, and she’d do anything for them.

11. How did you come up with the names for your OCs?

Jack and Anne are both (dubious) historical characters, as are Bonny and Cal (although I had to be a little bit imaginative for those two, since their first names historically are also Jack and Anne, and that would have been confusing). Matt was originally meant to be called Will, but then I realised that having a Captain Jack and quartermaster Will was a bit too pirates of the Caribbean, and changed it.

Tagging: @mvcreates @quilloftheclouds @jexxabella @quartzess @livingthedragonlife @rainy-rose @amaranthine-inscriptions @rosella1356 @waterfallwritings @elizabethsyson

My questions:

1. What’s the age gap between your oldest and youngest OC?

2. If your MC was dropped in a high school setting, which clique would they fit in with?

3. Which of your OCs is the funniest?

4. Who’s an early riser, and who sleeps in?

5. Which draft of your WIP are you on?

6. How many main characters do you have in your WIP?

7. Which of your OCs is the best looking?

8. What do your OCs do at Christmas? If nothing, why not?

9. Do your OCs have any piercings?

10. What are their favourite foods and why?

11. If your WIP has any couples, which is your favourite?

Hope you enjoy, and would love to be tagged to answer your questions!

#writeblr #writing #11/11/11 tag #violetvineyard #tag game #original characters

[cinema-tv-etc]

“Just the facts, ma’am” — “Dragnet” (1951 - 1959) (1967 - 1970)

“Ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.” Such a cool opening for one of the most memorable “cop” TV shows of all time. Sgt. Joe  — My name’s Friday. I’m a cop — Friday (Jack Web) and his detective sidekicks (played by Ben Alexander and Harry Morgan) managed to keep us glued to the television with their subtle tactics in apprehending criminals because all they really needed in their quest was... just the facts. So cool. Dum, de, dum, dum! Check out this very cool short video.

“Stifle it, Edith!” — “All In The Family” (1971 - 1979) Archie Bunker (Carroll O’Connor) had a way with words. He called his liberal son-in-law,  “Meathead”and his faithful wife, “Dingbat “ (and he insulted about every stereotype you can name) without getting his hand slapped from the politically correct community. He was so lovable, though, right? Whenever his wife Edith (Jean Stapleton) had an opinion, he managed to stifle her — most of the time. Check out the time she stifled him here.

“Who Loves Ya Baby?” — “Kojak” (1973 - 1978)

Kojak (Telly Savalas) was probably the only New York City detective on TV who made the Tootsie Roll Pop sexy. And, didn’t he start the bald head craze? (OK, Yul Brenner in the “King And I” helped get this trend started).  Who loves Ya, Baby? We do, we do!  (Look here for clip.)

“Good Evening” — Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1955 - 1962)

Maybe you had to be there, but no one could grab an audience with an introduction quite like Alfred Hitchcock. His “series of unrelated short stories covering elements of crime, horror, drama and comedy about people of different species committing murders, suicides, thefts and other sorts of crime caused by certain motivations” kept us coming back for more each week. It seems like seven years just wasn’t enough for this film director and his spell-bounding stories.  Take a look at his one-of-a-kind introductions here.  

“Would you believe... “ — “Get Smart”  (1965 - 1970)

“Get Smart” (battling the forces of KAOS) had an embarrassment of riches in the catchphrase department. Maxwell Smart, Agent 86 (Don Adams) kept his co-hort, Agent 99 (Barbara Feldon) and the Chief (Edward Platt) on the tips of their toes every time he opened his mouth. “Would you believe” these words of wisdom: “Missed it by that much!,” “Sorry about that, Chief,” and “I asked you not to tell me that.” Yes, we would believe anything you say, Agent 86. Take a peek at these “Get Smart” funniest moments here.

“To the moon, Alice!” — “The Honeymooners/The Jackie Gleason Show” (1951 - 1959) Who could forget the wild and crazy antics of New York City bus driver Ralph Kramden (Jackie Gleason), sarcastic wife Alice Kramden (Audrey Meadows), NYC sewer worker, Ed Norton (Art Carney) and his wife Trixie (Joyce Randolph)? These four feisty Brooklyn residents tested each others patience on a daily basis which was the reason millions of viewers tuned in once a week. Needless to say, Alice Kramden knew how to draw blood which is why Ralph gave her the what for... “One of these days, Alice, you’re going to the moon!”   “Just One more thing...” — “Colombo”  (1971 - 2003)

Peter Falk made “Colombo” a household name with his unique way of solving the “whodunit” mystery in this clever television detective show. The Fashion Police would have a field day with this disheveled, cigar-smoking detective. (Oh, that rumpled, beige raincoat... how we loved it.) The criminal always thinks he/she has the upper hand in the investigation only to be caught up in the web of Colombo’s increasingly intrusive presence. Just when the suspect thinks all is well,  the polite detective (who always gets his man/woman), has “just one more thing“ to ask.

“Goodnight, John Boy” — “The Waltons”  (1971 - 1981)

This Great Depression Virginia mountain family sure knew how to grab our hearts. Each episode focuses on the “family of John Walton Jr. (known as John-Boy), his parents, John and Olivia Walton, their seven children, and John’s parents Zebulon “Zeb” and Esther Walton. John-Boy (Richard Thomas) is the eldest of the children (17 years old in the beginning), who becomes a journalist and novelist. In the signature scene that closes almost every episode, the family house is enveloped in darkness, save for one, two or three lights in the upstairs bedroom windows. Through voice-overs, two or more characters make some brief comments related to that episode’s events, and then bid each other goodnight, after which the lights go out.”

“Let’s be careful out there.” — “Hill Street Blues” (1981 - 1987)

“Hill Street Blues“is an American serial police drama that chronicled the lives of the staff of a single police station located on the fictional Hill Street, in an unnamed large city, with ‘blues’ being a slang term for police officers for their blue uniforms.”  In the opening, Sgt. Phil Esterhaus  (Michael Conrad) does the police roll call, concluding with his signature line: “Let’s be careful out there.”

“May God bless.” — “The Red Skelton Show” (1951 - 1971)

“The Red Skelton Show” was mainly known for the comedy sketches performed by Red himself which included an array of comedic characters (Clem Kadiddlehopper, San Fernando Red, George Appleby and Freddie the Freeloader). He also had guest star performers including John Wayne, Phyllis Diller, Jack Benny... the list goes on forever. His opening monologue often included his two favorite seagulls, Gertrude and Heathcliff. At the end of each show, he ended it with thoughts that went something like this.

“Lucy! You got some ‘splainin’ to do!” — “I Love Lucy” (1951 - 1957) That crazy redhead we affectionately know as Lucy Ricardo (Lucille Ball) was never at a loss for words... or hair brained, good-natured mischief. Her cohort, Ethel Mertz (Vivian Vance) was somewhat skeptical at times to play along, but the two BFFs made life interesting for their respective spouses, Ricky (Desi Arnaz) and Fred (William Frawley) to say the least. When Lucy tested Ricky’s patience one too many times, he screamed the only phrase that came to mind (each time): “Lucy, You got some ‘splainin’ to do!” Don’t we all use that phrase ocassionally when we get pissed at our significant others (no matter what gender they are)?

“Yada, Yada, Yada” — “Seinfeld” (1989 - 1998)

Let’s give a big round of applause to Jerry (Jerry Seinfeld), Elaine Benes (Julia Louis-Dreyfus), George Costanza (Jason Alexander) and Cosmo Kramer (Michael Richards) for giving us the best nine sitcom seasons of our lives. Did you know it was actually George’s new girlfriend, Marcy, who came up with the “yada, yada, yada” expression? If you don’t do anything else today, watch this Seinfeld montage.  

“Come On Down!” — “The Price Is Right“ (1956 - 1965) (1972 - Present)

I don’t care how old you are, you have heard — at one time in your life — a game show announcer say, “Come on down!” You know the game show: “The Price Is Right.” And you know the master of all game shows: Bob Barker. The point is, no matter what year you were born, somewhere, on some network, “The Price Is Right” has been on your radar. Unless you live in a third world country. Check out this “Come on down!” video with Bob Barker.

“Sock it to me.” — “Rowan and Martin’s Laugh In” (1967 - 1973) The comedy team of Dan Rowan and Dick Martin hosted this psychedelic, fast-moving comedy series that featured series regulars Lily Tomlin, Ruth Buzzi, Judy Carne, Goldie Hawn, Arte Johnson, Jo Ann Worley, Gary Owens, Alan Sues and Henry Gibson. Judy Carne became the butt of the joke when she said, “Sock it to me.” They doused her with water or gently assaulted her with rubber objects. Be careful what you say out there.

“Dy-no-mite!” — “Good Times” (1974 - 1979) “Good Times“ lets us in on the lives of Florida (Esther Rolle) and James Evans   (John Amos) and their three children, J.J. (Jimmie Walker), Thelma (Bern Nadette Stanis) and Michael (Ralph Carter). “Episodes of Good Times deal with the characters’ attempts to survive in a high rise project building in Chicago, despite their poverty” ... and hilarity ensues. Fess up, you know you said the word “Dy-n-Mite!” every time something good happened in your life back in the day, thanks to the adorable J.J. (Although nobody says it better!)

“God will get you for that!” — “Maude” (1972 - 1978)

Who remembers that “Maude“ was a spin-off from “All In The Family?” Yes, Maude (Bea Arthur) was Edith’s cousin —  who  somehow got the spunk gene in the family.  And who remembers that Maude was a “liberal, independent woman living in Tuckahoe, NY with her fourth husband, Walter (Bill Macy)?” And if you didn’t know all that... (say it).

“De Plane, De Plane” — “Fantasy Island” (1977 - 1984)

Picture it: a remote tropical island resort where all your dreams come true. Well, not exactly. There were glitches in those wishes. Mr. Roarke (Ricardo Montalban ), assisted by his adorable miniature side-kick Tattoo (Hervé Villechaize) had the best of intentions of making his guests live out their fantasies, but what kind of show would that be if everything were perfect? You could count on one thing. The beginning of each episode,  a plane arrived with their (we’re presuming rich) guests. Tattoo always alerted Mr. Roarke, by pointing up to the sky, announcing: “De Plane, de plane!” Welcome to Fantasy Island.

“What U Talkin’ ‘bout Willis?” — “Different Strokes” (1978 - 1986)

“Different Strokes” starred Gary Coleman and Todd Bridges (Arnold and Willis Jackson), Conrad Bain (Phillip Drummond) and Dana Plato (Kimberly Drummond) who were perhaps one of the first racially mixed families on television.  Arnold didn’t hold back when Willis came up with some bizarre and/or surprise monologue that got his goat. “What u talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?”  Too cute!

“Book ‘em, Danno.” — “Hawaii Five-0” (1968 - 1980)

This may be my all-time favorite detective show based in Hawaii (sorry “Magnum P.I.”). And it may well just be because of one of my all-time favorite detective catchphrases: “Book ‘em Danno.” Detective Steve McGarrett (Jack Lord) worked so well with Danny Williams (James MacArthur) in each episode to put the bad guys in hand cuffs. (And who didn’t love that theme song!? Check it out here and turn the volume up and enjoy!)

“Say the secret word and win a hundred dollars.” — “You Bet Your Life” (TV version, 1950 - 1961)

Groucho Marx was probably the first choice to host this quiz show that featured a show chocked full of competitive questions — and some hilarious conversation. As it turns out, the comedian was the perfect host. As in all quiz shows, there is money to be won. But, with the right “word,” a contestant could win an extra hundred big ones. All they had to do was say the secret word. Easy Not so fast. How many words are in the English language? But we loved to hear Groucho announce: “Say the secret word and win a hundred dollars.” Sometimes they did. And that was seriously exciting.

“Say goodnight, Gracie” — “The George Burns And Gracie Allen Show“ (1950 - 1958)                              

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/catchphrases-classic-tv-shows_b_8142724.html

#tv catchphrases #classic television #alfred hitchcock #the honeymooners #i love lucy

[cclaudine]

wht’s UP demons, it’s me ya boi . . . dolores, here to rock your world !!@# lately, i’m going to be a little honest. i’m drowning in school work & convincing my friends to watch halloween movies with me ( i’m fully aware the season is over, however . . . ), all while burning my hands as i steam milk for these pumpkin spice lattes. every single day. but i am committed to portraying my new muse, claudine vandross who happens to be a total 360 from the usu charas i write !

( dolores , est , she/her, ) - it might just be me but did you see ( claudine vandross ) climb up the h of the hollywood sign ? ( maggie lindemann ) ! i heard that the ( twenty ) year old ( she/her - songwriter / singer ) could be hollywood’s new craze !

so, here’s the thing . . . i have so much planned headcanon wise & such, so this is just a few bullets on what’s what & kind of opening the door for any ppl who wish to plot with me ( hopefully ?! )

∙ ˚  born to a single mother in san fernando valley, always witnessing her mother bring a new man & watching them, too, as they quickly left. she was perfectly fine with just the two of them, as was her mother. she lived an average life, what could be given from a single income. that was until her father came back into their lives at the age of ten. it was a honeymoon period, late night ice cream trips & catching up on worthless time. that was until he was arrested on attempted arm robbery at a famous casino. over the years, she found her dad to be a shining figure & someone who finally made her mother happy. however, that was short-lived but never in her mind. she still calls him although he no longer answers, truth is he’s been out since a few years ago when the prison became overpopulated.

∙ ˚  she always had a terse behavior about her, brief & to the point. she was quiet, the typical trope of the dark-haired & outlandish character in every cinematic film everywhere. she didn’t mind school, she actually excelled in everything she put her mind, too. it was just a matter of her cursing & cement head like qualities. partaking in extensive collections of alcohol & drugs, she knew the right people that were wrong in every way, too. all along, she had a dream to make the writings she collected in her journal all day long & sing it into a mic. she occasionally posted videos on her instagram story, as it was widely followed & appreciated. similar to halsey’s early beginnings, she reigned as the electropop singer that the world craved.

∙ ˚  ( her vc being billie eilish, queen ). claudine’s or deany’s aesthetic is very much leather jacket, huge sweatshirts, raspberries, black coffee, tattoos inked across her skin, combination of dua lipa & many other idols, too, horror movies, dark lipstick, rings, more rings, crowded bars, detours, small inscriptions written over her hands, black cherry soda, bowling alleys, etc. she is kind of known as this darker soul, but sunshine is seen through her smaller cracks. i have so much more to her, including family history & so forth !!

WANTED CONNECTIONS INCLUDE: group of friends, exes, hook up’s, collaborations . . .

#lavish:ooc #i hve a lot more to add... #however... #late night grocery run

[indadeamo]

About Mothering a Foreigner

When my daughter was younger, we went for a pram ride one given Sunday. A woman passed by, walking her dog. I stopped, went on my knees, pointed to the doggie and said: “Look! Au-au!”. My baby looked at the dog, with the excitement only kids have and said: “Woof-woof!”. Perhaps a small detail to some, but I remember my astonishment and sadness when I heard that. That is not how dogs bark to me. I have not lived in my native Brazil for almost a decade and honestly, to this date, I cannot hear a “woof-woof”, no matter how hard I try. My eardrums just vibrate a crystal clear “au-au”, every single time. She did not learn that from me, but from others. It struck me like a lightning: I am mothering a foreigner.

I am not in the slightest nostalgic, left alone patriotic, but that made me realise how very little childhood references my daughter and I share. For instance, I do not know virtually any nursery rhyme she sings. I mean, why are the three blind mice running? But then, equally, how to explain why the carnation fought the rose under a balcony? She does not recreate the indigenous legend of the cassava or of the Amazon dolphin at school, and, chances are, she will never really see any of them in her lifetime. Maybe much later: I saw a squirrel for the first time when I was 15; she runs into them every morning in our garden. She spat, disgusted, feijoada when I tried to offer; I have eaten it pretty much weekly growing up. I felt victorious I could influence on her liking of Turma da Monica as opposed to Cloudbabies, but do not know if this small victory will last until Reception. Talking about Reception…Grammar School, sixth form, GCSE, A-levels? I flip nervously through all brochures, trying to trace parallels in my mind with the education system I did attend. In her “Ser mãe de gringo”, author Liliana Carneiro (@li.carneiro) list a multitude of differences between her upbringing in Brazil and, now as an expat, her daughter’s:  Mother’s Days are celebrated in different dates, while Grandparent’s Day don’t have any equivalent up here; she does not know if it is acceptable or creepy to invite kids over for playdates. She insists on celebrating Carnival Tuesday when everyone else is doing a way (waaaaay) less exciting Pancakes Day. She struggles to pronounce her daughter’s surname, just like I do! The list goes on.

Motherhood, by default, brings along countless internal conflicts. For me, this experience has been topped up with a whole bunch of other challenges. She will have to brush her teeth again at noon and will never have a birthday party before the actual birthday. She will always have a prayer next to her bed to prevent the evil eye - as she will have rue branches behind her door to prevent evil eye (ok, maybe Brazilians are a bit too obsessed with evil eyes!). I will watch her hockey games but will probably not have a clue if she is good or not, so little I get about the sport’s rules. I will do my best to help homework, from correct spellings to solve algebra problems, in a different language. I will challenge the Imperialist approach of her History books but might hear a “No, mummy, that’s not how WE tell the story here!” back. I often hear I am short-fused even when I think I am just being assertive! I am frequently tempted to nickname people immediately. In Brazil, if you meet a Camila, you instantly start calling her Ca, Camilinha, Mila, Caca etc.. Whatever you decide and you can change it anytime. In the UK, you must wait for coordinates: “I am Camilla, but I go by Milla”. It blows my mind you get to decide your own nickname! Or that you do not give a lengthy hug (pandemic aside) and invite someone you just met over for a BBQ when you literally have no food in the fridge. “Just come, we will sort it out!”, I grew up saying. Not anymore. They may all sound like small details, but they considerably change how you connect with people and express affection.

I have read the beautiful and delicate “My mom is a foreigner – but not to me”, by the American actress and author Julianne Moore. About the experience of being raised by a nonnational, she said on an interview: “My mother was from Scotland. I could not hear it, but she had an accent. When I was little and I would bring people home, they would say ‘why does your mum talk so funny?’. I would of course get really infuriated and embarrassed!”. Well, the thought of it is scary, isn’t it? I do not mind coming across as an alien to anyone else (“don’t care, no one pays my bills!” – the classic Brazilian proverb!). I nonetheless care about being a source of embarrassment to my daughter, just for being an outlander.

Just very recently, I have found out the November 5th bonfires celebrate the FAILURE of the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. Well, I come from a country positioned among the Top-100 countries in Corruption Index (Transparency International). A country that was exploited and subjugated by European Crowns since the 15th century; a country that suffered a coup d’état, instigated by the Americans and supported by some of its own MPs, agonising a two-decade long military dictatorship. I simply assumed we celebrated someone dared to try to explode a Parliament! I obviously now see how absurd that is. My background accidentally made me take Guy Fawkes for a martyr, not a villain. This is just one of many examples. Daily, I choose to give up my cultural capital to adhere to the mindset of the place I decided to call home. Yes, it was a decision, and yes, I review it from time to time. But anyhow, these cultural differences shape my motherhood exercising in numerous ways.

Language is possibly the most noticeable point. It is through orality that the identity of a people is shown more strongly. Quoting Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935) “My motherland is my mother tongue”. The controversial Sapir–Whorf hypothesis (1929) suggests the structure of a language affects its speakers' cognition and shape their perception of reality. For instance, if you speak a Latin language (Portuguese, Spanish, French etc), you must categorise people in terms of social dimensions (to pick a “tu” or a “vous”); German does not have present participle (-ing), so German speakers tend to focus on beginnings, middles or ends rather than in the action. Another fascinating aspect of language is the link between bilingualism and personality. Studies found that, when switching languages, people may also switch their way of thinking to “fit” the language. In the 00’s, linguists Dewaele and Pavlenko asked hundreds of bilinguals if they felt like a different person when they spoke different languages. Nearly two-thirds said they did. The connection between language and identity is, as it seems, context-based, malleable and impermanent.

Moreover, language is the element that enables bond between generations and facilitates the transfer of the cultural heritage within members of a community. All my primary fond memories are in Portuguese. This is the language my grandfather told me tales, that I heard the jokes I found funny, that I wrote my first love letter and my journal, in teen years; that I had my first arguments, learned how to negotiate and weigh in decisions.  And if we agree we are the result of our laughter, loves and struggles, then a huge part of who I am comes from experiencing life in my native tongue. I am less articulated in any other language; will I be able to advocate for my daughter clearly if she has problems at school? At the same time, I give her endless cafunes, when I am breastfeeding; I say I was dying of saudades when she comes from nursery. I look for her favourite teddies repeating “Quede?”, to which she opens her little arms in the air with a rhetorical “Where?”. All words that really do not have a perfect translation in English. Their meanings are profoundly connected to someplace else.

On his book “Raising Girls”, Biddulph provoked me to think long and hard about how my relationships with men are, how I make friends, how I keep promises and, more importantly - what are my core values. Does my daughter clearly know what I stand for? Arguably, he says, she will learn all these things from me. And then my oh-always-so-worried mind takes a pause and focus on what really matters. And truly hope that my accent, huge earrings, tattoos and constant “PDAs” (“public display of affection”) will not be a source of awkwardness but else a celebration of her own ancestry. Just a gentle continuation of a lineage of women that started somewhere is distant times, found its way among pain and joy through Portugal and Brazil and is now completing yet another honourable leg in English lands. May I be blessed, with the time and the wisdom, with the chance to help her navigate all the seas her DNA can offer.

And if things get hard, I shall read to my little gringa the poem, “lands,” by Nayyirah Waheed:

“my mother was

my first country;

the first place I ever lived.”

[paladinsheadcanons]

what kind of funerals would each champion have if they were to die in battle? assuming it's some great battle or something like some fantasy war?

Writing from the context that only one champion died and everyone else is still alive and attending the funerals. By the way, some are more of burial ceremonies than funerals exactly…? But you get the point. Btw I couldn’t come up with a few of these, so I ended up filling those in with extra HCs. 

-Mod Inara

We’re just gonna leave it under a cut since it got super long and also some of you might not want to read it because death mention and discussion. 

- Mod Mal’Damba

Makoa: A simple one, in which the champions silently pay their respects as they sail out to Makoa’s favourite islands, and give the Ancient One a proper burial at sea by lowering his body in a special wooden casket into the depths. 

Fernando: Fernando would��ve wanted to be celebrated, and so his funeral would be more on remembering his glory and fighting spirit on the battlefield as the champions give him one last toast in his name. 

Ruckus: Ruckus was buried along with the ashes of a destroyed Bolt, not far from Splitstone Quarry. They had both wanted this, despite saying they hated each other to the bitter end. At their funeral, the other Paladins made a special toast in the name of their dysfunctional but powerful friendship.  

Barik: Barik’s body was placed upon a stone pedestal in a small cave underground, surrounded by his inventions, both complete and incomplete. The Paladins paid their respects, and sealed the cave away by blocking the entrance with a massive boulder. 

Ash: As a general serving the Magistrate, Ash was given a grand and honourable funeral by the state, a public cremation for her and the soldiers in her vanguard. All the Paladins attended to pay their respects, all except Terminus, who only watched from a distance in silence. 

Torvald: Before his death, Torvald had only wished to be buried near the libraries of Stone Keep alongside his precious scrolls and scripts. The Paladins abided by these wishes, though they were unable to completely fulfil it, as anything Torvald owned relating to runic magic was nowhere to be found. 

Inara: After her death, the champions raised Inara’s body as a now lifeless stone statue within her beloved sacred lands as her soul returned to Mother Nature, living on as the guardian spirit of those lands. 

Drogoz: Dragons don’t have funeral rites because in the past, it was a matter of survival of the fittest and those who couldn’t survive didn’t deserve to survive. Having friends that actually cared for him more than wild dragons would have, Drogoz’s funeral is simple. His body is buried in the Enchanted Forest under an open gap in the canopy, so that he can fly off freely.

Bomb King: Bomb King had always wanted to “go out with a bang” even after death, which was why the others respected his unusual wishes for his funeral, setting his body up with bombs and fireworks on a small, uninhabited island, so he could have one last grand explosion in his name. He always was quite the drama queen. 

Cassie: Her father Arturos flew back to Crosswind Hold for his daughter’s funeral, as does Cassie’s mother she hasn’t seen or been close to in years. While her parents do the most during her funeral, wake and burial, her friends in the Paladins are there the whole time and celebrate her life as it was. 

Lian: Her body would be dressed in gold silk and crystals, and she will be cremated upon a golden pyre as per the traditions of House Aico, to symbolise her rise from the ashes in the next life, like that of their golden phoenix.

Kinessa: As a bounty hunter, Kinessa knew death was always near for her. She didn’t mind, and asked for a quick and easy burial should it ever claim her. That was exactly what the Paladins did, giving her a simple funeral and burial near the base.

Sha Lin: Having been a traveller in life, the champions believed his spirit should be free to continue his journey in death. And so, they left his body atop a mountain in a traditional sky burial for his soul to ascend to the skies as they body is left in nature’s hands. 

Viktor: Like any soldier’s funeral, Viktor is given a proper military send off, including a flag draped over his coffin, and the three-volley salute for his military honour in death. His coffin is buried in the military graveyard, amongst many others that he knew, or did not.

Tyra: A Viking’s send off, her body set off on a boat dressed in her battle armour, with her weapons and prized possessions all with her to bring to Valhalla as Sha Lin fires the flaming arrow and sets her boat ablaze. 

Willo: Mourned both by the Paladins and the Summer Court, her funeral takes place within the latter’s grounds. Her grave is stuffed with her favourite flowers, and was later buried in a flower field without a coffin, so that one day her body may become nourishment for the flora. 

Evie: As an immortal, she knows she will never have a funeral. However, if she were to die somehow, the only thing she wants for her funeral would be for it to be held during a gently snowing evening.

Skye: “Make sure I look pretty for my last party okay?” were Skye’s dying words as she passed with a smile on her face. Heeding her last request, the others dressed her up in fancy purple clothes as they held an open-casket funeral service for her. 

Androxus: Finally freed from the curse in death, Androxus’s funeral was more of a ceremony of his release rather than a mourning of his passing. After a simple burial near the Paladins base, Seris personally escorted his soul into the afterlife.

Buck: Having strong roots to the earth, upon his death Buck was cremated and his spirit released into the afterlife, where he took the form of an ox spirit to watch over his friends.

Maeve: Her only wish had been to be cremated with her precious enchanted coat and knives that had helped her through her hardest times on the streets. A simple funeral is held for the rest to pay their respects, and later, they scattered her ashes into the nighttime winds.

Zhin: Held by the Thousand Hands, with the Paladins in attendance, Ying as their sole representative during the process. He is cremated and his ashes left in an urn kept by the Thousand Hands on a shrine to their past great leaders, where the followers of the Thousand Hands will pay their respects to on his death anniversary.

Lex: A public funeral is held for him by his fellow lawmen, with salutes in his honour as his coffin is transported to a military graveyard where he is to be buried among others who have been killed in action. A much smaller, private funeral is held at the Paladins base, in which the others quietly paid their respects, as he would’ve liked it.  

Mal’Damba: The night before his funeral, a vigil is held by the other Supports in his honour, and his bed removed from his room to signify his passing. His body is cremated and scattered, his spirit released back to Wekono. Pancake is released into the wild with Grover’s help, and Waffles returns as a spirit to join Wekono and her master once more in the next life. 

Pip: Pip was buried in a special graveyard sacred to the Vulpin north of Brightmarsh, at the base of a massive waterfall. During the funeral service, the others burned all of his personal belongings before his grave, so that he may take them with him to the afterlife, as per Vulpin beliefs. 

Grover: His funeral was a planting of his body into the ground of his favourite forest, where the last of his magic transformed him into a normal, non-sentient tree, so he can live on one last time. 

Grohk: At Grohk’s burial, which took place under a lightning storm as per his culture, the Paladins gathered around and danced around a totem raised in his honour, each dropping a flower, provided by Willo, who had been given responsibility over Grohk’s garden, into his grave atop his coffin as they danced close. 

Seris: Though Seris cannot actually die, the damage done to her physical form had been too intense, banishing her to the depths of the Abyss, never to return to the mortal realm again. Knowing that they would never see her again until their own time came, the other Paladins held a quiet memorial for her. 

Ying: Upon her death, Ying’s form faded, leaving behind only her shattered mirror. The other Paladins placed the broken mirror in a beautiful shrine decorated with many flowers dedicated to her, and many tears were shed during the memorial service. 

Jenos: Upon his death, Jenos’s body had dissolved into starlight, and floated up to the heavens, where the stars took his form in a new constellation. The other champions then held a memorial for him under those new stars to pay their respects. 

Strix: Strix’s body is dressed in his combat attire and lavender, and the mark of a warrior was painted onto his face. He is cremated within a simple coffin, and after a seven day mourning period, the other champions spread his ashes on the ground within the forests, returning his body to the earth. 

Talus: As per Ska’Drin traditions, Talus is given a warrior’s funeral, his body is left beneath a great tree, one final rune of honour to be tattooed on his chest, done by Mal’Damba, as the champions surround him with flowers. (Yes it’s Rue’s death from the Hunger Games don’t kill me.)

Terminus: Terminus himself never cared for a funeral, but upon his final death, accepted Inara’s offer of a traditional Stagallan warrior’s send off. The Paladins took his body was taken high up a mountain near the Paladins base, where Inara embedded his form into the cliffside. 

Vivian: It wasn’t a simple funeral, but it wasn’t particularly grand either. After her burial in a coffin engraved with her sentinels, a feast was held in her name, honouring her. 

#all champions #paladins #paladins champions of the realm #paladins headcanons #death #funerals #tw death

[lacommunarde]

Snart and Scofield to the Company Came - Chapter 9: Plans Collide

Chapter 1: A Case of Mistaken Identities

Chapter 2: STAR Labs

Chapter 3: What is Leonard Snart?

Chapter 4:  Safety in Central City

Chapter 5: Meetings and Decisions

Chapter 6: Licence Plate Game

Chapter 7: Utah

Chapter 8: The Van, the Truck and the Bike

Chapter 9: Plans Collide

Fandom: The Flash, Prison Break, Arrow (sort of) Rating: Mature Warnings: Prison Break typical level of violence, (sort of major) character death, Torture, Surgery, Cancer, Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse,

Notes: Spoilers through season 4 of Prison Break, The events of the Flash happen ten years earlier: Len Mick and Lisa are ten years younger but everyone else is canon age, Len is 33, Michael is 28/29 when the fic starts, Linc is 32/33, Mick is 35. Snart Family Feels, Scofield and Burrows Family Feels,

Relationships: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, Leonard Snart & Lisa Snart, Lincoln Burrows & Michael Scofield, Michael Scofield/Sara Tancredi, Maricruz Delgado/Fernando Sucre, Michael Scofield & Leonard Snart, Michael Scofield & Christina Scofield, Leonard Snart & Christina Scofield, Mick Rory & Lincoln Burrows,

Characters: Leonard Snart, Michael Scofield, Mick Rory, Lincoln Burrows, Lisa Snart, Cisco Ramon, Barry Allen, Caitlin Snow, Sara Tancredi, Fernando Sucre, LJ Burrows, Joe West, Iris West, Maricruz Delgado, Felicity Smoak, Alex Mahone, Paul Kellerman, Bill Kim, Christina Scofield, General Krantz, Aldo Burrows, Theodore “T-Bag” Bagwell, Wally West, Lewis Snart, Brad Bellick, Oliver Queen, Axel Walker,

Summary:    When Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows swing by Central City to get a potential plan B for getting to Panama (in case they need it), they are mistaken for Leonard Snart and Mick Rory. Leonard Snart, who is laying low (not in Central City) is mistaken for Scofield. Once their identities are straightened out, Len, Mick and Lisa and the Flash team decide they are going to help the brothers (and Sucre, Sara Tancredi, and LJ) find out why the Company wants them, and the Rogues call in a few favors.

In an office with varnished wood and clunky yellowing computers, someone stuck his head out of an office when a blond-haired agent walked by, scowling at the world around him enough that people got out of his way. “Agent Mahone, we have recovered eighty percent of the data on the hard drive.”

Agent Mahone’s expression melted from one that promised a yelling to whoever bothered him to that of a dog who has just smelled the scent of a bone again and pointed all of its senses and body in that direction. “Good. Keep at it. And print up what you have so far. I want it on my desk in an hour.

The computer guy nodded. “I already have and it is.”

Mahone nodded, impressed. “That’s really great. Agents, somebody get this man a coffee and a donut. He’s given us the first useful advance against the brothers,” he announced to the room, pointing at the computer guy.  “Great job.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He walked off to his office, leaving the computer guy spluttering behind him, and closed the door. Once he was sure no one could hear, he flipped open the phone. “Yes?”

“Hello, Alex,” said the disembodied voice over the phone. Sly and slimy tone. Kellerman. Mahone stiffened.

“Kellerman, I said I’d call when I had news.”

“Do you or should we get someone else on the project,” the voice over the phone crackled in its threat.

Mahone wished he was face to face with Kellerman again, just once, so he could punch him in the face and wipe that tone out of his voice, the tone that said he owned Mahone and they both knew it. As it was, the news he was about to deliver would have to suffice. “Actually, we just had a breakthrough here, Kellerman. We found the brother’s hard drive and we currently have recovered eighty percent of the data on it, plans, what his tattoo means. Now do you have anything else to ask or will you let me do my job?”  

“Excellent news. Keep on it,” Kellerman’s voice sounded pleased. Then again, Kellerman could go screw himself. He considered winging the phone out the window onto the street below.

--

The brown mail-truck pulled up alongside the young hitchhiker, the passenger window on the truck down. The hitchhiker kept his head down under his hat and kept walking, despite the heat. The truck kept pace with him. The hitchhiker felt his heart try to jump through his chest with the thought that he was made, as his dad would put it.

“Hey, kid. You going our way?” said the man for inside the truck.

The hitchhiker stopped, a smile growing on his face as he recognized the voice. He looked up at the truck window. “Dad?” He beamed up at him.

“Hiya, LJ,” Linc greeted him, grinning just as big. Uncle Mike shoved his head halfway in the window as well.

“Miss us?” Uncle Mike joked.

“You bet, Dad, Uncle Mike,” LJ said.

“Come on. Get in.” Linc nodded back into the truck. The door swung open and Uncle Mike and Linc and another guy pulled him in. There was a woman driving that he had never met before. He sat between the other guy and Uncle Mike.

“Hi,” he greeted the other guy and the woman. “I’m LJ.”

--

Kelleman’s phone rang after he had gotten off the phone with the man who had been supposed to keep an eye on LJ. He bit his lip, took a deep breath and picked up the phone. “Mr. Kim.”

“Do you have a report?”

“Dr. Tancredi has unfortunately disappeared. I am trying to locate her again.”

He could hear Mr. Kim’s displeasure in the silent pause. “And the Burrows boy?” Mr. Kim added finally.

Kellerman gave his head a shake and swore under his breath. “Unfortunately, we are trying to locate him as well.”

Mr. Kim scoffed. “You lost him.”

Kellerman winced. “Only a minor setback. I am working on finding where Tancredi has gone and she will lead us to the brother.”

“She had better.”

“Mahone has also found that the data from the hard drive can be recovered. However, we are still waiting on him finding anything in there.”

“Someone had better find something. Otherwise, we will have to put someone else on it,” Mr. Kim said and hung up. Kellerman looked down at his phone and then slipped out the memory card and pitched it into a pond across the park walkway.

--

Diner. Just a sleazy, greasy joint on a southwestern highway where no one in their right mind would stop for a bathroom break or a drink unless they knew what it was. What it was, was the Low Crime capital of the southwest, at least for those that didn’t approve of human or drug trafficking, and didn’t want to keep company with those who did. It was a meetup place for hard working thieves in need of teams or intel. And when Len had been working on jobs around the southwest instead of Central when the heat got too much or when he wanted to keep an eye on Lisa while she was training for figure skating Pros, he’d swung by here often.

He saw the UPS truck outside – fourth license plate, he nodded with approval – and as he swung the door open and took off his glasses, he saw Lisa tilt her head towards the bathroom from where she was sitting, just a girl drinking coffee at the counter. He understood the glance: Michael, Linc, Linc’s son and the man they had brought with them from Utah were in there, likely watching through the double-sided mirror, if they knew what was good for them. He gave her a polite nod – given the rarity of female thieves and the grace and pose she had, it was required that he notice her briefly anytime they played at not knowing each other – met eyes with her to let her know he saw, and turned to the host to request a booth. “Meeting someone here,” he said.

The host nodded to a window booth and offered him a menu. Len knew about the menus in this place and even if he didn’t need anything that was on the back pages, he took it nonetheless and slid into the empty booth.  

The woman and man he had seen driving the SUV walked in, surveying the place, along with a white-haired man who stood on the balls of his feet as though his muscles were comfiest doing so. He surveyed in smoother, calmer motions, eyes taking in everything from each section of the room before they fell on Len.

Len inclined his head at the man. The man nodded back then tipped his head at the woman and the man. The woman went to the counter, pulling out the stool next to Lisa, likely to survey the diner in much the same way Lisa was doing. The man in the bad suit walked with him then sat down in another empty booth by Len’s table. Neither of them stopped with the host, which meant unfamiliarity with the place. The white-haired man passed him and continued to Len’s booth and gestured at the empty seat across the table. Len pointed at it and inclined his head and did not take his eyes off the man as he slid into the seat.

“Michael,” he greeted once he had sat.

Len inclined his head to the side and met the man’s eyes.

The man surveyed him back. “You aren’t Michael.”

“How bout you tell me what led you to that conclusion and I will tell you if I’m Michael or not,” Len said.

The man’s eyes glittered, but other than that grin in his eyes, his expression did not change. “Your eyes showed no recognition, wariness, horror or anger.”

“Sizing you up,” Len responded, filing away the information that this man had done something to Michael that he considered worthy of Michael’s horror, and recognition meant he had seen him more recently than when he was born.

“You’re colder, a good deal more like Michael and Linc’s mother.”

Len twitched his head to indicate that he wanted more information. “Never met her.”

“She’s… interesting.”

Len met his eyes. The man inclined his head. “She’s supposed to have died of cancer,” Len accused in a dropped voice.

The man inclined his head. “A lot of things are supposed to have happened. I’m supposed to have been a no-good, two-timing drunk who ran off one day out of the blue on a trip to the store to get cigarettes.”

Len squinted, which under his eyelashes gave the impression he had closed his eyes in a grimace while still letting him observed the world around him. “Clearly, she’s met someone I know.”

“Clearly,” the man responded after studying Len’s expression for a minute.

Something moved out of the corner of Len’s eye so he glanced at it from under his eyelashes, and he saw Michael standing there outside the bathroom next to Linc, who had his arms clasped around LJ. Michael’s face spoke of something catastrophic going on with his emotions.

The blonde lady saw them too and glanced at the white-haired man and Len before sliding to her feet, reaching for her gun. Len sighed and counted to five as everyone reacted at once: Lisa drew her gun and had the blonde lady disarmed and in a choke hold before the lady likely knew what hit her; the host had also pulled a gun and had it aimed at her; and the white-haired man across from Len turned around with a frown on his face as something he didn’t calculate was happening around him.

Then, he set eyes on Michael and Linc and nodded. “Jane. Drop it,” he said and glancing at Len, he asked, “Know her?”

“Lisa, wait for Jane to put the gun down then reholster yours. No need to turn her platinum gold today.” Len glanced back at the white-haired man with a smirk. 

Lisa smirked and said to the woman, “Too bad. You get to keep your blonde hair today.”

The white-haired man nodded. “Turn her gold?”

Len inclined his head. “Her hair is offensively platinum,” he drawled the pleasantry, deliberately misunderstanding the question.

The white-haired man narrowed his eyes in recognition that Len knew exactly what he had meant and just refused to answer and turned his body to face Michael and Linc. “Hello again, Linc, Michael.”

Linc shoved LJ behind him. “What do you want, Dad?”

“That’s our dad?” Michael asked in a strange voice. Len glanced him up and down, noting how his hand sought something to grip onto and how his jaw tightened.  

“Yeah, you’ve never met him.”

“Actually, I have.”  

The white-haired man gave a nod of approval. “Knew you’d remember, son.”

Len could see Michael’s knuckles turning white on the back of the chair.

“What? When?” said Linc, turning between the two of them. Michael seemed to just be staring at the white-haired man.

“Michael,” Len prompted.

Michael stepped forward, gazing at the white-haired man. The white-haired man gazed at him, watching his moves until Michael was within a distance where if either had wanted to they could have leaned forward and embraced. Then, in a swift motion, Michael decked him in the jaw.

Linc, LJ and Sucre gasped, and Jane leaned to get her gun. Lisa restrained her again and aimed her gun at her. The white-haired man held up a hand to indicate he was alright. Jane stopped, and Lisa took her target off her. Len met the host’s eyes to let him know that everything was on the up and up.

“When I was eleven, one of the foster parents I was with locked us into a closet whenever social services wasn’t there. He would take us out only to feed us and yell at us.” Michael’s voice had gone monotone, as though reciting a story with no impact on him. Len wondered if having him see Mick’s shrink might do him some good. “Then, one day, while I was locked into the closet, there was a scuffle outside. The door opened and you were there. You picked me up and told me not to look, but I looked and saw that you had shot that foster father in the head.”

The white-haired man gave a slow nod. “Nobody abuses my children and gets away with it.”

“Linc was in there for years. Why didn’t you do something?” Michael shook his head, glancing at Linc and LJ.

“That’s what they would have wanted. They were trying to lure me out,” the white-haired man said.

Len turned to survey Jane’s expression then he turned back to face the white-haired man after having determined the man was probably fairly justified in his paranoia. “Who’s they?”

The white-haired man shut his eyes. “That is a conversation to be had somewhere more private.”

“Somewhere you’ll suggest, I take it.” The white-haired man inclined his head. Len scoffed. “Why should any of us trust you?”

The white-haired man turned to Len and raised his eyebrows. “I’m their father.”

Len gave him a wry and dangerous smirk. “Even if you are, what makes you trustworthy?”

The white-haired man took a few steps closer to Len, like a prowling cat focusing on an annoyance. Len scoffed at the impression and let him come. “I’m sorry. Who are you, again?”

“I’m Leonard Snart, the man your sons hired to get them to safety and clear their names. How do you figure into that? Tell me now. Otherwise, I’m taking them and walking out that door.”

“I’m Aldo Burrows. And you might want to hear what I have to say.”

Len hoped his face looked as bored as he felt.

It must have because the white-haired man – Aldo – continued, “I know of a tape that can clear Linc’s name.”

Len inclined his head.

“How?” Michael asked.

“It is evidence the President’s brother is still alive.��� The entire room inhaled. Aldo, seeing as he had their attention, continued, “But you’ll find things are a little more complex than just that.”

--

All of them continued to Aldo’s safehouse, Len on his bike; Aldo, Jane and the man in the suit in Aldo’s car; Linc, Michael, LJ, Sucre and Lisa in Lisa’s truck. On the way to their vehicles, with a nod of their heads, Len and Lisa agreed to notify Mick and Cisco where they would be.

Mick hung up the phone after listening and nodding then nodded at Cisco, who was also finishing on his phone call. “Got the message, Heatwave. I’m tracking them via computer.”

Mick came over to where Cisco was standing by the computers to observe. Cisco glanced up when he noticed how close Mick was to him. Mick saw the alarm in his posture and grinned at him, raising his eyebrows, but did set himself back on his feet to make himself appear as non-threatening as a 6’2” guy with broad shoulders, a shaved head and burn scars can. Whether it was the grin and eyebrow wiggle or the change in posture, Cisco breathed like normal again and turned back to his computer. “See this?” He pointed at a spot on the map. “That’s Cold.” Mick grinned at how Cisco called Len that even when he wasn’t in the area. When he next saw him, he would have to tell him. “That’s Lisa, Michael and Linc. And Lisa’s good. I told her if they ran into anyone of interest to slip a marker on them as well. She must have done it because there’s the last car.”

“Shoes.” Mick nodded, peering at the computer.

“You mean Aldo?” Cisco frowned. “How did you get from one to the other?”

Mick shrugged. “Women’s shoe brand. I went shopping with Lisa a couple times.”

Cisco beamed before he remembered who he was talking to and wiped the glee off his face.

“Snart doesn’t like him. Shoes throws an extra wrench into Snart’s plans. Could potentially screw things up.”

“Did Cold tell you about thtape?”

“He said he was going to hear him out about it. But, judging by how this ass didn’t come forward about it till now, even if there is a tape, there’s a reason he can’t get to it.”

Cisco nodded. “Point. It says here that Burrows was on trial and going through the appeals process for three years, which may I just say is really short.”

“Yeah. There was a guy in one of the prisons when I was in who was going on twenty years of death penalty appeals. Pigs were going to throw him a party when he got there. So yeah, there’s a reason he couldn’t get to it before now, and it ain’t related to him not having a good enough thief to get it for him.”

Cisco turned to survey Mick. “You come up with that theory or did Cold?”

“What’s it matter?” Mick put his shoulder back up.

Cisco shrugged and offered Mick a gummy candy from his desk, which Mick took and popped in his mouth. Then Cisco unwrapped a lollypop of his own and shoved in in his mouth, peering back at the computer as the vehicles turned off the highway. “Hello, where are you going now?” 

--

The mansion they got out at looked like a type like the Santinis loved and the Darbynians thought was too high class for them. Taking a look at Linc’s discomfort with the place and the entrance hallway, Len determined Linc agreed. He took a glance at Michael: the man appeared just as uncomfortable around the mansion, as he, according to Linc at least, had even less familiarity than Linc with this kind of house. Sucre hung close to LJ, who didn’t seem as out of his depth but was still impressed by the house, so one of his friends must have had a place like this or something. Lisa got out and ignored the house, because she was familiar with this style of house from parties during her figure skating years.

Jane and the man in the bad suit walked into the house followed by Aldo with Linc who took LJ – Len could have sworn he heard LJ say something like “This is the same dad who walked out on you?” to which Linc responded, “Things are complicated.” – and Michael took Sucre and whispered something to him. That left Lisa to nod to Len, and Len to incline his head back before they entered the house, laying a hand on his chest pocket as he did.

Once they were all seated on, or in Len’s case lounged over the back of, couches around a coffee table, with Jane and the man in the suit standing guard, and had all been watered, given the June heat, Aldo put down his own glass and leaned forward. “The reason I bailed on you all those years ago was because of the Company.”

“So you’ve said,” Linc replied, “What is this company?”

“A corrupt multinational organization determined to put people in all the right places to get power to continue operating as it sees fit.”

“Bored now. What else is new?” Len said from his couch, tossing the little puzzle ball he’d danced his fingers across on his way past a bookshelf into the air and catching it.

Aldo turned to Len like he wanted to strangle him.

“I’m already familiar with Queen Consolidated, which tried to kill Starling City’s slums not so long ago to make room for a development, with the head of Lexcorp all but appointing himself Metropolis’ mayor – I’d vote for him for President if he runs, if I could vote, but too many times being arrested for felonies, what can you do? – Additionally, STAR Labs in Central City, where Dr. Wells designed a particle accelerator and the thing that was living in the sewers awhile, while presumably paying bribes and blackmail to keep the authorities from looking too close. So, I repeat, what else is new?”

The angry expression dissolved into one that was more interested in discussing politics with Len. “The scale. This corporate conspiracy is global and has amassed enough power to start a war should it choose.”

“United Fruit,” Len pointed out.

Aldo nodded. “Yes, around that level.”

Linc prompted, “How is any of this related to Terrence Steadman? And why is he still alive?”

Aldo sighed. “Two reasons. One, they had to have him disappear and the easiest way was to fake his death. “Two, they wanted to have me come out of the woodwork, but I doubt Steadman or the President are aware of that reason.”

Len asked, “Why did they have to have him disappear? And why would they want you to come out of the woodwork?”

“The Ecofield corruption scandal,” Michael remembered.

“What about it?” Linc asked.

Aldo nodded with a proud, little smile on his face. “How about you tell?”

Michael said, “He was in charge of Ecofield. Information was leaked that it was a very corrupt company, in a large enough way to potentially bring it down if it was investigated. With Steadman killed, they couldn’t ask him any questions in the investigation.”

Linc lunged at Aldo. “You son of a bitch!”

Michael and Sucre caught Linc mid-lunge, and Michael squeezed his shoulder as they returned him to his seat. Linc remained seated but crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at Aldo.

Linc explained, “You son of a bitch. You leaked the information about them and they knew it was you. And I was working there at the time, so not only did they fire me, but they also used me as bait. Just ‘cause you weren’t subtle enough! They used me as bait to get to you!”

Len sighed, “Although that also explains why you couldn’t exactly leak where the tape with the evidence was,” Len summed up. Aldo nodded, adjusted his collar from Linc’s strangulation attempt.

Linc and Michael turned to Len.

Len explained, “If they knew the way he leaked information, they’d be able to track him down better if he handed over additional evidence. Set a trap, that kind of stuff.”

“Still doesn’t mean he didn’t hand over the evidence that made them arrest me.” Linc shot his father a glare.

Len inclined his head. “Yes, he did, and he handed it over in a sloppy enough fashion to let them know it was him. Which may I just say…” Len glanced at Aldo and shook his head.

Linc gave Len a grateful expression.  

Aldo frowned. “Yes, I regret that it was done in such a fashion, but I became aware of what was going on at Ecofield and felt it necessary to let the public know. You were regrettably working there at the time.”

Len leveled a gaze at him.

Aldo shifted uncomfortably under it. “Are you sure you and Michael weren’t switched at birth?”

Len chuckled. “I’m the same age as Linc.”

Aldo nodded. “And there’s no way Christina could have been pregnant with you without me knowing about it.”

Len closed his eyes. “We already did the math and figured that the closest we could be is cousins. But my grandfather was still alive for a few years there and would have mentioned if my dad had any siblings, particularly when he was sick and considering the foster system for us. But as Michael here seems to have found out the hard way, the foster system also sucks.” He leveled Aldo with a gaze.

“Coming with me would not have been safe. They both would have excelled at it, of course, but it would have been no childhood at all.”

Len met Michael and Linc’s gaze, enough to see that they had both guessed that they would have excelled at whatever their father was doing. “You could have stayed with them,” Len suggested.

Aldo shifted from his stance at ease in his own house to one that was a lot more alert, vigilant, and prepared to strike at any minute. Len’s lips curled up in a smirk as he recognized the man as a criminal in another guise, and he inclined his head at Aldo. “That wouldn’t have been an option for me leaving the Company, not with what I knew about them.”

Linc growled, “So you did it to stay alive?”

Aldo turned to him, relaxing halfway back into his at-ease posture. “I did it to keep you safe. If I never showed up there, they wouldn’t look at you two too closely. Which if they had, they would have recruited you in a second, you to be an operative and eventually a hitman, like me; you,” – he turned to Michael – “They would have cut any morals out of and sent you to work with their best and their brightest. You both would have excelled at it, of course. And then they’d get their hooks into you,” – he gestured at Linc then turned to Michael, “And you’d be too invested to ever want to leave.”  

Len caught the puzzle ball again, rotated around so his feet were on the floor and undid the puzzle in his hands, setting it down on the table.

“In what exactly?” Michael asked.

“They employed your mother for a number of years in their science division. Rumor is, she enjoyed it a lot.” Aldo grimaced. Len watched the minute motion Aldo also did where he met Jane’s eyes and then eyed the puzzle box and her slight nod in reply.

Len pulled something out of his pocket. There was a momentary expression of annoyance on Aldo’s face as he – and Michael – recognized it as a little gyroscope toy from an entrance way table. Len saw Aldo’s expression and gave the gyroscope toy a little spin, dancing it from one hand to the other, and gave Aldo a little smirk.

“Did they?” Michael’s voice had gone into that quiet tone that Len imagined was a sign that he was at his most dangerous.

“Yes,” Aldo turned back to Michael.

“She could still see us,” Michael said.

“She wasn’t working as an Operative.”

Len interrupted, “Assuming you weren’t a dirtbag father and just an absent one, oh, all your kids’ lives, how ‘bout you tell us what you been doing since you left, since Operative isn’t really descriptive?” 

Aldo held Len’s eyes with an expression that he was there by Aldo’s sufferance alone, but that as he wasn’t completely useless, he could stay. “There’s a piece of technology held by the Company that contains valuable information on all the people they hold something over on and on all their operatives and operations. If we can get it, we can give copies to the DOJ and the UN and get the Company shut down and many of its operatives, its general and its executives arrested.”

Lisa gave a loud laugh. The others in the room turned to face her. Aldo with annoyance, Michael with a frown, Linc with amusement, Sucre with an interested tilt of his head, LJ still with the same wide-eyed expression he had had when he had first set eyes on her, and Len with a small, mostly hidden but proud smile on his face.

Lisa shook her head and turned to Aldo. “Do you know it actually exists and is not just a McGuffin to keep you running in circles?”

Aldo snapped back at her. “Of course it actually exists. I have it from the Director himself that they were designing something like it. I just can’t figure out exactly where it is being housed.”

Lisa glanced at Len and continued, “Why do you think someone wouldn’t have already extracted this information, someone gifted with a computer?”

Aldo glanced at her with far more interest on his face. “As far as I can tell, it is not connected to any internet. Too dangerous for exactly that reason. Additionally, the design of it is rather complex. It is called Scylla as in –“

Michael replied, “As in the Greek mythological creature with six heads.”

Aldo smiled at him. “Yes, Michael, as far as I can tell, it requires six parts of it to work. Now if only I could find out what the six parts are and where they are being held in addition to the main component itself…”

Len said, “Maybe we can put multiple heads together for ourselves and think up where they could be keeping it.”

Mick’s voice came out of Len’s chest pocket. “Nah. It doesn’t just contain that.”

Michael, Linc, Sucre and Aldo all turned Len’s direction. Len held up a flip phone and shrugged. Aldo’s expression had gone murderous and cold, and he pushed himself to his feet, shifting his jacket out of the way.

Len watched this and made a sound of derision at it. “No need to draw your gun. Aldo Burrows, meet Mick, my partner. Aldo, say hello so my partner can get your voice.”

Aldo did not back down. “Why were you taping this discussion?”

Len shrugged. “Was having him listen in ’cause he’s my partner and should know what’s going on.”

Aldo turned to Linc. “Did you know about this?”

Linc glanced at Len, then at Michael. “I met his partner. He’s a good dude. Didn’t know he called him, but it makes sense.”

Aldo sat back down, though he was still gazing at Len. “He can hear me over that thing?”

“Yeah,” came Mick’s voice.

“Very well, I’ve been doing actual research on this device longer than you’ve been out of elementary school.”

Len raised his eyebrows. Mick scoffed. “Yeah, but you ever seen what’s on it?”

Aldo stared at Len who was gazing back at him with a triumphant smirk. “No. But neither have you,” he said to both Len and Mick.

“True,” Mick answered, “But as a hitter, I wouldn’t keep info on people only electronically. I’d keep it in a safe that would destroy the person if they tried to break into it wrong. I’d also keep an uncertain number of other copies in various other locations. The assholes trying to break into it wouldn’t know how many copies there were. So they wouldn’t gain anything from trying to get at just one.”

Aldo tipped his head. “That’s… a very intelligent suggestion actually.”

Mick made a sound of appreciation. “It’s how I do it.”

Linc turned to the phone. “Who do you got blackmail on and why?”

Mick shrugged. “Various people. Probably the entire KCPD and CCPD. Just in case we need it.”

Len inclined his head. “It was easier back in the day when the entire departments were corrupt jackasses.”

At the emphasis Len put on the last two words there, Lisa straightened up just a little and slid the gesture into reaching forward for her glass of water, and Mick just grunted over the phone. Michael’s eyes flicked over Lisa and Len.

Linc asked, “If that’s the case, what else would they store on this device?”

Lisa turned to him. “What does the Company make exactly?” Aldo turned to her, surveying her. She let him, then met his eyes. “Yes?” she asked.

“You’re dangerous,” Aldo commented.

Lisa gave a small smirk. “We’re all dangerous, Aldo. We’re criminals. It’s what we do.”

Aldo gave a nod. “Not so long ago, I would have snatched all of you up to join the Company. You would have done very well.”

“We prefer to be on our own team.” Len met Aldo’s gaze with his own, leaning forward to pick up his glass of water while not breaking eye contact. Aldo held Len’s vision with his own bristly expression.

“It must be something having to do with what they do, if they are an actual company,” Michael said into the pause, glancing at Lisa. “Are they?” He turned to Aldo.

“They are, but there was a very strict division between the Operatives and the Scientists,” Aldo glanced over at Michael and Linc. “I was never involved with what they were researching.”

“So it’s a science lab then?” Len asked. “Broken into science labs before. Hell, it’s a game I play with a few of Central City’s labs. Break in, take a few things, see if they notice.”

Aldo smirked and then realized what he was doing and wiped any sign of it from his face. Len turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

“They almost certainly have their IP on there then. Wells kept his files on a secret computer in a secret room according to Cisco.”

Len turned to Lisa and raised an eyebrow, tensing up from his previous acting relaxed posture. Over the phone, Mick’s voice said, “Boss, want me to rough him up a little?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. Len smirked and responded, “Nah, Mick. It won’t be necessary with this one. He ain’t Scudder.”

There was grumbling on the other end of the phone, but Lisa flashed her brother a happy, little smile.

“Scudder?” asked Linc.

Lisa winced and responded, “Just your garden variety asshole.”

Linc said, “One you did jobs with?”

Len nodded.

Aldo peered at Len. “Any use to us?”

Len got a weirded out expression on his face and began to shake his head. “No. He’s…” He paused, chewing on his lips while looking at Lisa. “Ain’t actually seen him since the night of the particle accelerator.”

Lisa leaned forward into her hand. “Is that what happened to him?”

“You mentioned a particle accelerator earlier. What was it?” asked Aldo.

Around the room, Len, Lisa and Michael made similar wince faces. “Long story,” Lisa said.

“One of the labs in Central City blew up when its particle accelerator experiment went wrong. The wave hit a number of people making them super-humans with interesting abilities. Most of them, as with most people who suddenly get superpowers, decided to get revenge on either the guy who ran the lab or various people they were pulling jobs with who double crossed ‘em or put ‘em behind bars.”

Aldo stared. “So you got a bunch of supervillains running through your city is what I’m hearing.”

Len smirked. “Yes.”

Aldo gave a nod. “I must admit, I don’t typically care about superheroes and their supervillains. No superhero is going to care about a corruption scandal the size of the Company. They tend to like easy missions: over, done with, photo opp, kiss the baby, fly off into the sunset.”

Len shrugged. “Captain America.”

Linc nodded. “X-men.”

Aldo shook his head. “Actual superheroes. Captain America and X-men are just comic books.”

Len leveled Aldo with a gaze. “Flash’ll give you a run for your money.”

“Flash?” Aldo looked incredulous.

“Central City’s superhero. Kid hates corruption just enough to help out…” Len froze, glancing around the room. “Where did the man in the bad suit go?”

Aldo looked around and met Jane’s eyes. Both of them turned to where the man should have been standing and wasn’t. They both pull their guns out, Aldo out of his back holster hidden by his jacket, Jane out of her hip holster, and go into what Len recognized as job mode. Even in this, Aldo only tensed a little, but he gave off the impression that he was ready to move into quick action at the drop of a hat.

Len nods at Lisa. “Sis, you get Michael, Linc and the others out of here. Aldo, you know the layout better than me; you lead the way.” He pulled his cold gun out of its holster and buzzed her up. “Mick, gotta go on silent, buddy.”

“Got it, boss.”

Aldo nodded at him and then stared at the gun with its glowing blue tip. “One of my acquisitions from one of the lab runs,” Len replied to his unspoken question.

Aldo gestured down for him to follow him and for Jane to go down the opposite hallway. Len did, gun at the ready. Aldo walked ahead of him, footsteps silent on the floor, as Len crept behind him down the hallway, silent as a thief in the night. The hall up ahead was silent, not even the creak in the floor made by their weight, which meant that any warning noise the man in the bad suit might have made on the floor was out. Visuals alone would have to do. Aldo’s stance said he was likely a quick draw, unless he used stance and fists alone to get info out of people, or unless he was a sniper, use to having time to set up the shot. Len found himself wondering who was faster, himself or Aldo, just a little game he played with people in the criminal underworld that tended to work out in his favor.

They turned out of the hallway, having checked the doors – bathroom and a closet – and crept into the living room. There was a faint movement from a door and one of the curtains.

Len had his gun up before Aldo had drawn and had fired his gun by the time the silencers coughed.

The bullet hit the cold field and slowed. Len knew it was still moving and turned to Aldo to make sure he was moving fast enough to get out of the way.

Aldo was standing there with a frown on his face.

Len ran at him and pulled him out of the way.

The bullet skimmed Aldo’s arm, burning his shirt and his flesh underneath it as it went. If Len had not pulled him away the bullet would have struck his heart. Aldo met his eyes for half a heartbeat, long enough for both of them to realize the other one knew it.

Then Len fired his gun full and fast across the room where the bullet and early warning movement had come from.

The man in the bad suit hit the floor, face and chest iced over, though still gasping for breath.

Aldo tensed and his eyes went wide. Len guessed that were he any less controlled, he would have jumped.  

“Left him alive in case you wanna question him. Can thaw him out without permanent damage too if you like his answers. It’ll just hurt like hell till I do,” Len told Aldo.

Aldo nodded. Len could see himself going up in Aldo’s estimation. Not that he cared. Aldo turned his attention back to the man in the bad suit and set his foot atop the ice on the guy’s chest. The guy hissed in pain. Len couldn’t say he blamed him, but as with his crews, the man should have known better than to betray the crew. Aldo aimed his gun at the man, met his eyes, and shot without making an expression.

Jane ran in. Aldo met her eyes, and she gave a curt nod, eyes flicking from the ice on the man’s chest to the gun still fired up in Len’s hands. Len smirked at her and powered down the gun. She lowered her gun as well.

“Why don’t we finish the discussion on how we’re going to get this six-part device back in Central City?” Len said.

Aldo glanced down at the man bleeding out on the floor. “Alright.”

#my fics #snart and scofield to the company came #prison break #the flash

[lapeaudelamemoire]

Something odd about London. I know, I know, it's been forever, and I'm still dredging it up, but - I watched then read Night Train to Lisbon and immediately decided I needed to go. Fernando Pessoa added to that. Watching Hannibal's third season once, and deciding I needed to see and stay in Florence for myself. Tangier waiting because of my favourite film. Wuthering Heights made the moors of the north call. Needing to see Glasgow because Trainspotting. But I have read book after book after book and watched film after film after film set in London, and I have never felt called to it. Perhaps only once, and even then only because I needed a rest and this was an 'yep why not!' reason to go. Because I was in the country. I don't remember the first time I went to London. I know I saw everything in the city centre, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, the Tower Bridge London Bridge Houses of Parliament... blah. I never reminisce about this, is what I mean. Is it because I went with Phil and my parents? Hum. Perhaps. Then the second time going, with Becca for my 20th, and staying in Dollis Hill - what I remember most is the long fucking tube rides back, tired as hell, trying to drag luggage up stairs in the goddamned underground with no lifts, the apartment where we'd booked a room, singing in the bath, Drury Lane and Black Garden Tattoo where I got the cover of Songs to Break Up To inked on my thigh. I remember going with Becca to the Sherlock Holmes museum, and sitting outside in the cafe across the road. I remember the red double-deckered buses in the city. I remember Piccadilly Circus and that junction and how busy it always is. I remember Trafalgar Square and the fountain with her, taking photographs. I remember going to Madame Tussauds because she wanted to go, and nearly going on the daft London Eye; doing all the touristy things that long weekend. I remember Soho and not realising they were gay bars and the night that was her birthday and a gay older man, lovely, buying us prosecco, and the blonde bartender and the brunette one, whom I gave my number to so he could find us after we went elsewhere, and who was supposed to meet us after closing. I remember getting dead fucking drunk, sitting in the toilet cubicle of this other bar, and I remember sitting on the floor under a streetlamp, waiting for the bus, missing it as it went right by never stopping, shouting about it then laughing, getting a cab back and throwing up right outside the door of the cab. I remember midnight of my 20th birthday sitting outside the door of the apartment in this tiny alley and fucking myself on the doorstep, smoking a cigarette. So, I've been in London. I've been there but London has not been in me, and I don't think ever has been. I remember things about it; I remember being there. I remember going to Portobello Road this one day last year before everything else, dressed in this fucking gorgeous cream vintage dress I'd got from Camden Market the day before, and how that day felt, before it all went dark. I remember thinking Wimbledon was a quiet place, a pub coming out of nowhere whilst walking to the Village, and how I hardly left the house those 6 days, so tired. I remember feeling this wasn't anything like London, zone whatever you call it or otherwise. Then Camden, and fucking crashing. Then Kilburn, and the bath in which I read Antigone, mind floating elsewhere, with nothing but a candle and the lights off. Then Brick Lane, later, and this other one day at the beginning of Wimbledon, going into the city and meeting Cristina, sitting at a Carluccio's near Bond Street in a tiny square and finding it was too far for my taste. Later: Covent Garden, which I've always remembered liking, kissing boy outside after sushi because I insisted; we'd been walking - been in Shoreditch. The night before in a small pub somewhere off Brixton. The pubs in London aren't like the pubs in the rest of England - too fancy. But for all it's worth, I've never gone to London and thought someone else walked here. Not even in the Sherlock Holmes bit. Why have I never felt compelled to go where Wilde wandered? Why have I never considered where Clarissa Dalloway lived? Why have I never once thought of all these others - I can't even think up any - who had made it their stamping grounds? I tried to go there and walk as Vanessa Ives did. But the old, big houses, they're not there now, and Victorian times is gone and gone. And the mystery vanishes in the swirling, pushing crowd, too-full tube carriages. Nothing has stuck. Why? So many nights I'd spent there, and such a small fraction - such a small amount has me ever feeling full at all. Mostly this hollow feeling - unfulfilled. The only furnishment - Kensington, walking home from Earl's Court station. The pubs on the street - because I am a pub sort of girl. In Newcastle on New Year's Eve with Phil, this low-ceilinged beauty of a pub, with the thick window glass, warped, and the grid-grille pane. Why has London never felt like anything but a missed alignment? I would have spent the time in Glasgow instead - Arriving in London from Darlington and promptly sitting down on the platform of King's Cross, tired, noting immediately the easiness of being up north had vanished - later, coming through to leave for Canterbury, finding I didn't care for the exteriors of the stations. I've looked at the museums from outside, down the road from Kensington - walked through South Kensington; and - why has nothing of it moved me? Brief flickers because of people I have loved - but take them away and it would mean nothing to me. Why doth it leave me so unmoved? I remember more than that, too, but they're things I'd rather not recall - a little like Woolooware Park in Sydney that I never returned to. There is no anchor for me there. Meanwhile Palermo is calling me; this cathedral for a bleeding heart.

#personal

[webmdog]

Un Ojo Para Una Vida (Part 2)

Continuation from the previous post.

Though, aside from those little tidbits about the Royal Ball, what else was there to know?

Now for the good part.

Be warned, I may stray away from the ballroom story for a bit, but just keep it in the back of your mind. It’ll be important later on.

One of the attendants for this Royal Ball was a man by the name of Esteban Juarez. He was the CEO of some medical supply company in Hayañil, and if you know your stuff about the Royal Isles, one of our main exports are medical supplies and medication. Because of this, it was obvious that this guy was seriously well-known in the city, hell - even the country. He was very rich and very successful. Now, how I knew him was not by word of mouth, unfortunately. My first run-in with this fellow was definitely not a pleasant one.

It was a couple months ago I was simply walking to Castillo Hayañil from my home in Distrito Prominente (A part of Hayañil surrounding the castle) to give King Fernando reports about his newest war machine, nicknamed “Manuel.” It was a cold, hazy morning and the visibility was quite low. Worried that I would trip or something, I held on to the folder tightly as I walked to prevent dropping the documents and leaving them all helter-skelter everywhere. Throughout my walk, I felt a sense of dread and paranoia grip me - like I was being followed by someone, and when I looked back I always seemed to see a bearded fellow wearing a white dress shirt with an orange tie, deep grey dress pants and suspenders closely following suit. At first he was far away, hidden by the tropical haze, but the more I looked back en route to the castle, the closer he got. I didn’t know him at all, I’ve never seen a man like him before in my entire life!

I tried to walk quickly but he was just too fast, and eventually I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. I immediately jumped and screamed bloody murder, dropping the folder and spilling the documents everywhere. I quickly turned around to see the man right in front of me, who appeared just as surprised as I was with his outstretched hand suspended midair, like he was still gripping my shoulder. As the papers fluttered around us and onto the cobblestone walkway, he immediately scurried and tried to pick them all up, nervously gathering them and hastily handing them to me.

“Mis disculpas… M-My apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you.” he stammered as he looked longingly into my eyes. “N-No importa.” (It’s fine.) I said back feebly, my heart still pounding against my ribs. “Fue un accidente.” (It was an accident.)

I neatly put the papers back into my folder and then looked back up at the man to thank him, still noticing that he was looking straight into my eyes. Those brown eyes showed a sort of longing in them, I swear to you. They almost looked somber, like he was about to cry. It was then that I was able to get a closer look of this strange man. He was very tall, broad-shouldered and somewhat muscular. He was clearly very young, roughly around my age - mid 20’s or so. His chiseled face sported a neat beard and mustache combo and his chestnut hair was gelled and combed to the side. His eyes looked sad and his eyebrows were very thick yet seemed to compliment his eyes just fine. By no means was he an unattractive gentleman.

As he stood there gawking at me, many passerbys began to watch us in the haze, whispering to one another with wide-eyed looks on their faces. Usually, I’m not the kind of person to be nervous, but this man gave me the heebie-jeebies. I never met him in my entire life, yet at the same time I felt like I should know him. It was very frustrating but also very scary. I felt like I had wronged him in some way and the feeling was impossible to shake of, but how could I possibly feel this way toward someone that I’ve never met before? To break the awkward silence and to be polite, I thanked him for helping me gather my documents to show Fernando.

“Muchas gracias por tu ayuda. Realmente se lo agradezco.” (Thank you so much for your help. I really appreciate it.)

The castle was right there, I just had to walk around the fountain in the plaza in front of Castillo Hayañil and I was already there. But before I could quickly turn around and walk away from this man, he grabbed my hand and caressed it gently, continuing to look into my eyes with his. This time I could see tears running from them.

“Es que usted, Roxanne?” (Is that you, Roxanne?) He whimpered.

Perplexed but also suddenly scared, all I could do was stand there, frozen in place. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t bring myself to move. I wanted to look confused but I know that to him I appeared more frightened. Those feelings of dread, frustration and fear intensified the more I looked at him after he asked me the question. I felt like I was going to choke. I felt like I did something terrible to this man, but at the same time I’ve never see him before in my entire life.

All I could do was quickly whip my hand out of his and stagger back, shivering vigorously with my heart rattling against my ribcage.

“R-Roxanne? N-no… Lo siento, me llamo Melissa… Melissa Foster.” (R-Roxanne? N-no… Sorry, my name is Melissa. Melissa Foster.) 
All this man did was walk toward me and grab both my hands this time, that same look of longing in his eyes as my folder fell to the cobblestones again, papers flying everywhere.

“De qué hablas? Estás bien, mi amor? Eres Roxanne. Roxanne Montoya… No te acuerdas?” (What are you talking about? Are you okay, my love? You’re Roxanne. Roxanne Montoya… Don’t you remember?) “Lo siento, señor…” (I’m sorry, sir.) I replied quietly, tears welling up in my eyes for some weird reason. “Me llamo Melissa. No sé lo que estás hablando.” (My name is Melissa. I don’t know what you’re talking about.)

I immediately pulled my hands away from him and got on my knees, quickly trying my best to pick up all the papers and make a sprint for the castle, but as soon as I had gotten down he knocked me over and forced himself on top of me, pinning me down with his huge hands while I struggled to break free. This time, his eyes looked down at me in anger. This man was definitely some sort of fucking psychopath.

“No me mientas!” (Don’t lie to me!) he boomed as I wriggled under his grip, demanding him to let me go. I swear I could smell his breakfast from how close his face was to mine.

“¿Por qué haría esto a mí? ¡Pensé que estabas muerto! Todos me decían que estaba muerta!” (Why would you do this to me? I thought you were dead! Everyone told me you were dead!) “Déjame ir!” (Let me go!) I screeched at him while trying to kick him off me. “Te dije que, yo no soy Roxanne.” (I told you, I’m not Roxanne) “Sé que estás. Tengo que probarlo. No hay nadie que se parezca a ella.” (I know you are. I have to prove it. There's no one else that looks like her.) He retorted before grabbing my blouse tucked into my leather skirt.

He immediately tried to rip my blouse open as he pinned me down, ripping the gilded diamond-shaped buttons off my uniform while the crowd began to intervene, calling out to nearby Soldados Sombras in a panic.

I only writhed some more as my abdomen and bra were both exposed. A tattoo of an anchor exposed beneath my blouse, right under my right breast.

The man pointed at it with wide eyes as he proceeded to pin me down.

“Es su tatuaje… El ancla. Roxanne, Realmente es usted.” (It’s her tattoo… The Anchor. Roxanne, it’s really you.) he said under his breath, exhausted from trying to keep me still.

Immediately I heard the sounds of cleated boots hitting the pavement around me and the sounds of guns cocking. I knew that the Soldados had come to save me.

“Tu. Baja ella. Ahora.” (You. Get off her. Now.) One of the soldiers yelled, aiming his glass-coated FDI Modelo 2022 rifle straight at the bearded man’s head. It was in good condition too. I remember designing that gun alongside the other engineers.

He looked at them with awe before slowly getting up, his hands raised in the air as he stood there surrounded by 4 soldiers. Like I said before, thank god they were there. They all knew I was someone important - the head engineer for the Crown. But had I just been another average joe, I don’t think I would’ve been let off the hook that easily.

“Le dejaremos con una advertencia.” (We’ll let you off with a warning.) another soldier said promptly, still aiming his gun at the bearded man and slowly approaching him while the man stepped back from me and the soldiers around me, his hands in the air.

While still holding his rifle, another soldier then charged at the man and forcefully kicked him in the shin with his toe (to prevent stabbing him with his iron cleats) while two other soldiers helped me pick up the documents I spilled while also helping me stand back up as I straightened out my blouse and tried to keep myself covered as best I can without the buttons of my uniform.

“Now get lost, chupaero. (cocksucker)” The soldier that kicked the man said as he staggered away. “If you lay a hand on Lady Foster again, I’ll fucking shoot your head off.” He spat out as the bearded man slowed his gait.

The man stopped and turned around toward the soldier that kicked him, looking straight into his eyes before throwing shade back. 
“You’re all talk, cabrón. (bastard) You don’t have the balls to kill me. I’m too important to this goddamn country.” He hissed. “Yeah? Well we’ll see how important you are if you don’t listen to us. You may be a valuable asset to this country but so is Lady Foster here. He wouldn’t hesitate to have you killed, puto cerdo. (fucking pig)”

It was then that the man simply scoffed and walked away, back into the haze and into the streets of Distrito Prominente.

The soldier that threatened me approached me with his rifle now at ease, hanging from a strap on his neck. 
“So sorry, my lady.” he said sympathetically, looking at my open blouse. “We can get you a new uniform once you get to the castle and report to Fernando what happened. I promise it won’t happen again.” “Thank you so much, señor.” I replied with a sigh. “I would’ve been done for if it wasn’t for you jackasses.” “That fucking Esteban Juarez thinks he’s so fucking macho sometimes, I swear to God.” The soldier scoffed, glancing over at where the bearded man once walked away. “Esteban Juarez?” I said, having never gotten his name. “Sí.” The soldier said with a nod. “He’s the CEO of some medical supply company here in the Royal Isles. He always thought that he was some sort of fucking hardass just because he’s a rich pendejo. Always hanging around prostitutes and snorting coke. Shit like that.” 
Now I was interested in what this jackass had to say. Another soldier handed me my folder filled with reports about the war machine and I thanked him while the four escorted me to the castle, the one soldier talking to me as we walked. 
“Wait, prostitutes?” I asked the soldier. “Sí, mi mujer. He was always in that damn red light district every goddamn night. Good thing he doesn’t have a wife though, otherwise she’d probably divorce his culo in a heartbeat haha!”

I was intrigued, this soldier knew a lot about this man. 
“No wife? So did he have a girlfriend at least?” I asked the soldier as we walked around the fountain of the plaza. “Una novia… Sí, I think he did. He was very close to one of the prostitutes I believed. One of the higher-end ones that really knew how to work a man, te sabes? Her name was-“
“Roxanne…” I whispered. Just saying that name sent chills up my spine and I broke out in a cold sweat, guilt starting to consume me.

The bewildered soldier looked at me with a wide-eyed look. 
“Y-yes. Roxanne was her name. For a prostitute she was very good-looking. Expensive as hell though.” 
My heart rattled in my chest again as the soldier continued to speak.

“So I guess you’ve heard of her at least, huh? I’m not surprised. Her case is a strange one! She just simply disappeared but her pimp was found dead in a nearby alleyway on Calle de las Armas. It’s weird how she disappeared immediately after her pimp’s death though. The guy was a fucking asshole anyway, he had it coming. But god knows who killed him or where poor Roxanne went after that. La Policía Real (the Royal Police) tried so hard to find her but found nothing at all. Her room was left as is, there was no signs of packing up or anything. She simply just vanished! La Policía eventually just gave up and declared her dead. Since then Esteban just fucked off and never went into the red light district ever again.” 
The more the soldier talked, the more fidgety and uneasy I become. Roxanne’s words echoed in my mind.

“You’d do this for me? Oh Melissa, you’re such a sweetheart.” I heard in my head over the soldier’s incessant blabber. “I have nowhere to go, Melissa… I killed him… You killed him… We killed him… If I’m caught, it’s over. But if we let him live, he would’ve strangled me to death.” “No worries, Roxanne, sugar, I can take the pain away… Just say yes to the deal and I can help you achieve your dream and get away from it all. I know it’s scary and all, but please, trust me. I need this just as much as you do.”


I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I told the soldier to shut the fuck up. He immediately looked at me, perplexed and said “I stopped talking like 2 minutes ago, mi mujer.” “N-no importa. Señor… Lo siento… Sorry I just… My mind was elsewhere. Thank you for everything” I stammered before running into the castle to turn in my reports.

#writing #literature #fiction #short story #pokemon #pokeask #demons #short story #dystopic #dystopia

[pa74music]

Sun Orphans - Tope clapes

SUN ORPHANS "Tope Clapes" Videoclip of the single's "Tope Clapes", which has been recorded and produced by Lauren Serrano at Estudio Hanare. The video clip was made by Teo Martínez Tellez, starring Carolina García Heredia and would not have been possible without the collaboration of Fernando Hernández, Carmen Moreno, Julia Padilla, Luna Atance, Scott McLain, Pablo Casares, Raquel Cuesta, Patricia Carrasco, Guillermo Valverde, the Limbo and, above all, Tope Clapes. LYRICS Your high ceilings can’t go away from my head nor can your story when you are lying on the bed. I have seen it like 15 times. Oh no, no! What is behind of your sad ebony eyes? It really started with a couple of “likes”. I just want to be inside of you. Oh no, no! I just want to be inside of you. Oh no, no! I’ve lost my soul back in the past: a tattoo in your thighs. Lost in a room, drowned in a bath, I’ve lost my path and I could forget, something to regret, temptations… My mind is under your skirt, Tope Clapes! I have been lost in a sea of thoughts and then my demons just became the most. When the thoughts start to became tears, the sunshine never appears. I’m not a real poet as you can see. I fell in love with your Spotify playlist. Tonight I’m connected with myself, my thoughts are my only friend. Tonight I’m connected with myself, my thoughts are my only friend. I’ve lost my soul back in the past: a tattoo in your thighs. Lost in a room, drowned in a bath, I’ve lost my path and I could forget, something to regret, temptations… My mind is under your skirt, Tope Clapes! Oh, no, no, no, no! I’ve lost my soul back in the past: a tattoo in your thighs. Lost in a room, drowned in a bath, I’ve lost my path and I could forget, something to regret, temptations… My mind is under your skirt (Tope Clapes!). My mind is under your skirt (Tope Clapes!). My mind is under your skirt, Tope Clapes! http://vevo.ly/SEsGBz

[torentialtribute]

Rangers legend Fernando Ricksen opens up on battle with motor neurone disease

The players who knew Fernando Ricksen the best, remember how he would burst through the doors of the Rangers canteen like a cyclone and the silence shattered.

Barry Ferguson does not mind that he admits that his heart would fall short of anticipation and that he would think, while he was sitting there at 8 o'clock, & # 39; Oh s ** t, here he eats – my peace goes frightened & # 39 ;.

Ferguson always saw something about Paul Gascoigne in Ricksen. & # 39; A large child that did not have an off button. A child with a sugar shower. Sometimes a total pain in the a ***, but deep inside I loved him for it. & # 39;

[R] In October 2013 Ricksen was diagnosed with the incurable motor neuron disease

It is that the collective memory of the individual has chosen the shared PFA Player of the Year of Scotland in 2004-05 , who makes his entrance

It is almost six years ago that the former Holland International announced at the age of 37 that he was in a fight that he would not win, with motor neuron disease.

He stated in his extraordinary autobiography that he is not a "normal guy". was not and # 39; would give up & # 39; in the face of the disease. Yet his arrival in a packed Tradeston Ex-Servicemen & # 39; s Club reveals the unrelenting nature of the disease. Now 42, he is a shadow of the gladiator who wore the No. 2 jersey during the stadium on the road.

An audience of 300 has been present here for a fundraising evening since a fixed start time of 19.30 hours, although a word comes from a delay when leaving the hospice that has become his home, half a day drive for hours to the east.

Ricksen's latest appearance with Rangers fans, in October, made him struggle to breathe and was hospitalized for three months with a return to Spain as unsafe, so they do not look as self-evident.

Ricksen is largely unrecognizable from the gentle person with old age Katie Price – then known as Jordan – and got fantastic fantastic in a six-year Rangers career from 2000, but the eyes are clear and the materializations the emaciated face are the same as always.

Why was it important that you were here tonight? & # 39 ;, he asked when he had stationed his chair in the middle of the room. & # 39; It's good that I get out of bed! & # 39; he answers and brings the house down.

He used the same kind of computer-based speech system that was used by Professor Stephen Hawking, who was affected by the same disease.

Allows Ricksen to communicate in a way he never thought possible, limiting him to a series of blinks to & # 39; yes & # 39; or & # 39; no & # 39; to signal when his voice failed. But answering the most elementary question is difficult. I have to train his eyes on every letter of the computer keyboard to spell the word he is trying to say.

& # 39; How do you feel? & # 39; & # 39; Very good, & # 39; he replies. & # 39; You feel good? & # 39; & # 39; Absolutely. & # 39;

One dates from October

One dates from October

One dates from October 2003 and the Club League clash on Panathinaikos then, after lunch the day before the game, a number of board members of the club Ricksen said he would not have the courage to throw chairman John McClelland to the hotel pool.

& # 39; Then I saw him struggling and gasping for air. That his phone, wallet and £ 20,000 Rolex were still in his pocket. When I returned, they told me they could not swim. Bastards! I started to feel uncomfortable because of the joke. "

McClelland's reaction went along the lines of that and you're noted, but Ricksen smiles broadly, while the automated voice closes the story, it's an hour to compose.

& # 39 It makes me laugh even now.I think that I have contributed, by taking the pressure from everyone.This is my excuse anyway. "

A break for food creates the chance for photo 's with Ricksen, a row that goes back to the door I went to. There are requests to Ricksen's head, which periodically adjusts his wife, Veronika, to alleviate any stress. Ricksen lacks the ability of the muscle to do so, but many can not help embracing it.

There is an unpredictable sadness about Ricksen who has the ability to hear and see everything that unfolds in a room full of supporters standing in line to be photographed

& # 39; I am grateful that I have the machine, & # 39; he says. Before I had it, very little communication was possible, but this has made things different. It has opened new possibilities. I can do many things with it. "

The question about the value of the machine takes a few seconds to ask him, the answer takes 10 minutes to compose.

It would have taken 30 seconds to know that he has also calculated how much the machine can do for him, he has set up a system that allows him to receive and reply to WhatsApp messages and use his computer screen as a TV, downloads box sets, and uses the US-Canadian sci-fi series Stargate as the favorite

& # 39; He is the full techie & # 39 ;, says his friend and regular visitor, Pauline Glen, who is aware of Ricksen's limitations as any. "We know each other well and sometimes I forget him and I ask him for ten things when I arrive & # 39 ;, she says.

There is no disguise of the enormity of the challenge that a disease entails, which just struck when Ricksen thought he was confronted with it and struck down his demons.

Drink was the core of many of them. It was behind an argument with an air inspector when he returned from abroad with Rangers, who effectively ended his time in Glasgow.

The autobiography, Fighting Spirit, tells the story of how Zenit club doctor Dr. Sergey Poechov saw many players, including Ricksen, injected with "liquid preparations."

He says: & # 39; There were needles and syringes everywhere. Players hooked on drips, laughing. It looked like a secret laboratory. I was astonished. Doctor Pukhov stared at me from behind his desk. I smiled.

With the help of the Sporting Chance.

clinic, Ricksen defeated his drinking problem. By the summer of 2013 I spent four years with Veronika, who is Russian. Their daughter, Isabella, was born in 2011. They lived in the warmth of Valencia. Then I realized that something was wrong, initially with his speech. & # 39; I was different. I sounded like I was drunk. But I was absolutely not. "

He relates in his autobiography how he reduced his alcohol intake to two glasses of beer a week, but he also struggled with swallowing, being constantly tired, having trouble with most basic movements, like sweeping a cigarette lighter

The diagnosis came in October 2013, but the day before the follow-up consultation appeared on the Dutch television program From World Turning By (The World Goes On) to discuss the book.

& # 39; At the moment I have trouble talking & # 39 ;, he said on a terribly sad television set. & # 39; A month ago I went to the hospital They diagnosed me with MND

& # 39; More research is needed & # 39 ;, he says.

The requirement of Scottish doctors that it was not safe for him to make the trip home to Valencia hit Ricksen harder than anything. Friends say he has resisted for a while before he accepted that he would spend the rest of his life at St Andrew's Hospice in Airdrie.

& # 39; We try to live every minute & # 39 ;, says Veronika, who spends her time between Spain – where they want Isabella to be educated – and Scotland. & # 39; We have been together for 10 years and I know his illness every day. We can communicate with our eyes. We understand eachother. "

Ricksen is optimistic about what lies ahead, but not ready to let go of life." I am not afraid to die, "he says. & # 39; I've discussed euthanasia with my family, but I still enjoy being alive too much, I'm not ready yet, I can understand other people who feel different, but that's how I feel. too far in the future.

I had this week a tattoo of a lion in his neck inked

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#Rangers legend Fernando Ricksen opens up on battle with motor neurone disease"

[junker-town]

It's time to spice up MLB outfields

Look at me, I’m the commissioner now.

All right, so to start this off I just want to say that baseball was my first sport and that I will always have a soft spot for it even if I sound like a hater on Twitter.

Back to the intro.

I was playing Mario Super Sluggers for the Wii, and I was frustrated with myself for not knowing the controls and all of the power-ups the computer was using to destroy me. That’s when it hit me.

We absolutely need obstacles in the outfield. OUTFIELDERS ARE TOO GOOD AT THEIR JOBS! LET’S SPICE SHIT UP.

Here’s how this blog post will work: I’m going to name an outfield obstacle for each ballpark and then bless you with a snippet of how said commentary would sound if you were watching on TV or listening on the radio.

Please have an open mind because my mind is open as hell.

Camden Yards – Baltimore Orioles: Crabs

Play-by-play: This one gets through the infield. Now can Adam Jones get to the ball before the crabs do?

Color commentary: Jones wants to be sure that he doesn’t upset the colony of crabs ... herd of crabs ... squad of crabs?

Play-by-play: Cast

Color commentary: Cast of crabs, thank you. Those crabs seem to love baseball. You have to be really careful to get the ball without upsetting the cast.

Play-by-play: It seems like Jones is swatting at the crabs with his glove hand. Very wise of him to not use his bare hand unlike the last fielder to try this.

Color commentary: Yup, it seems that teams are starting to use game film to study what is working and what isn’t working against these crabs. We’ve seen very good and very, very bad.

Nationals Park – Washington Nationals: The racing presidents ... but during the game

Play-by-play: This ball is back ... to the track ... to the wall and BRYCE HARPER RUNS INTO TEDDY ROOSEVELT! THIS IS A VERY UNFORTUNATE TURN OF EVENTS FOR THE NATIONALS

Color commentary: Yes, I imagine that the presidents are trying their best to stay out of the way of the home team, but after so many laps around the field it’s hard to stay running and be cognizant of your surroundings.

Coors Field – Colorado Rockies: Bats ... like actual bats

Play-by-play: This is a high fly ball into center field ... Charlie Blackmon is getting dangerously close to the designated bees area. Remember, there are many pressure-activated spots on the field that release the bats at any time.

Color commentary: I can’t watch! Oh, the potential horror!

Play-by-play: Blackmon ... MAKES THE CATCH AND AVOIDS OPENING THE BAT CAGE!

Color commentary: Whew that’s a rel ... Loud noise from right field

Play-by-play: @#$%. Well it looks like Carlos Gonzalez opened the right field bat trap. Let’s just hope they’re friendly this time.

Carlos Gonzalez: THIS TIME?!

Fenway Park – Boston Red Sox: A green monster. Like an actual green monster.

Play-by-play: That ball is hit WAY back to left field, and you know what that means!

Crowd: RELEASE THE MONSTER

Color Commentary: That’s right! This week's green monster is Reptar, brought to you by Reptar Investments. Don’t let your retirement plan turn into a monster. Call 1-800-REPTAR1 to set up an appointment today.

Play-by-play: Let’s just hope he doesn’t eat the ball this time!

Petco Park – San Diego Padres: A river.

Play-by-play: That’s ripped into left center field; back is Mike Trout and Justin Upton. And Trout falls into the river, but fortunately Upton is there to make the catch for the second out.

Color Commentary: Well if you’re a fisherman I have good news for you. It looks like it’s Trout Season out in left field, amirite.

Play-by-play: How long have you been holding on to that one?

Color Commentary: Weeks.

AT&T Park – San Francisco Giants: Push the right field wall back so that part of McCovey Cove is part of the diamond.

Play-by-play: And that ball is hit high and DEEP! Hunter Pence is hustling! Will he get there? He might have to dive...he does! He makes the catch! But that has to hurt.

Color commentary: Yeah, I’ve talked to some right fielders over the course of the season, and they told me that new right field is problematic. The deepest part goes up to waist deep for most people and makes diving catches incredibly painful. Keep in mind that you’re belly-flopping while wearing a cup. That can’t be pleasant. What an effort by Pence, though. Couldn’t be me.

PNC Park – Pittsburgh Pirates: Cannonbaseballs (Cannonball-sized baseballs)

Play-by-play: This ball gets past the second baseman and looks to be a single as the right fielder ... *BOOM* never mind. That ball will get past John Jaso! Once again the constant cannon fire has proved to be a problem for this outfield!

Color commentary: That’s right, first you have to deal with the noise of the cannon fire to break your concentration, and then you have to dodge the cannonball. These cannon baseballs can hurt too, and players have the option to wear baseball helmets in the field. This probably wasn’t a good idea by Commissioner Kofie, but it’s definitely a game-changer!

Wrigley Field – Chicago Cubs: Patches of ivy in the grass, Pokémon style

Play-by-play: Ground ball...THAT will reach a patch of ivy in right field! One run will score! Jason Heyward is searching for that ivy.

Color commentary: That ivy is no joke! It’s thick, and if the player can’t find it after 10 seconds it’s ruled out of play, so it’s a race against the clock! That is excellent hit placement.

Dodger Stadium – Los Angeles Dodgers: Dodgeballs

Play-by-play: This one is fouled high and down the line. Remember, that one player from the opposing bullpen can throw a dodgeball at any time. Yasiel Puig is heading down the line. He throws ... OHHHHH HEADSHOT WOW! What a dodgeball throw from Fernando Rodney!

Color commentary: It’s usually odd to see a closer out here as the designated dodgeball thrower, but Rodney does it with precision! Textbook accuracy there by Rodney!

Kauffman Stadium – Kansas City Royals: Leave the sprinklers on.

Play-by-play: Now I know that we’ve talked about home-field advantage, but this is ridiculous.

Color commentary: Yes, it seems that the sprinkler operator has fallen asleep at the controls multiple times. You’re only supposed to turn them on while in play, but these sprinklers keep coming on during dead time. I’m not sure this is how Commissioner Kofie imagined the sprinklers would be used.

Two days later

Sportscaster: We have the latest on the Sprinklergate scandal. It seems like there was an accomplice. We’ll have the full report at 11.

Target Field – Minnesota Twins: A Target Express

Play-by-play: That’s a screaming line drive right into the snacks section of the Target Express! Eddie Rosario has to make sure he doesn’t knock over any displays or customers while in pursuit of this ball.

Color commentary: That’s right, and Twins fans know the rules all too well. You break it, you buy it!

Play-by-play: Yup, and we don’t need to talk about the eighth-inning egg incident last week. It changed the whole flow of the game.

Color commentary: You can say the Twins were a shell of their former selves after that.

Play-by-Play: Bruh.

Citi Field – New York Mets: ATMs

Play-by-play: There’s a high fly ball. This one’s got a chance back anddddddd OFF THE ATM! Money is shooting out of the ATM, and now the FANS are jumping onto the field! This is craziness. Security is going to have its hands full with this one, right partner?

Color commentary: *Left 30 seconds ago to collect money.

Globe Life Park – Texas Rangers: Squirrels

Play-by-play: That ball gets by the first baseman and will roll all the way to the wall! Shin-Soo Choo is running and HITS THE DECK! It looks like he rolled his ankle on another one of those squirrel holes.

Color commentary: It seems like his foot fell into a hole there, partner. Sometimes during batting practice, you can see the squirrels putting the ball into little burrows as if they’re storing them for the winter.

Busch Stadium – St. Louis Cardinals: Barrels of beer

Play-by-play: That ball is shot to left, and it hits a barrel! That means that he has to chug a full beer before he can go for the ball. Remember, kids, don’t try this at home!

Color commentary: CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!

Play-by-play: It looks like he’s going to shotgun this one! Excellent form...minimal spillage. WELL DONE!

Citizens Bank Park – Philadelphia Phillies: Let the Phanatic run on the field.

Photo by Mitchell Leff/Getty Images

Play-by-play: And that ball is down the line and grabbed by the Phanatic! The chase is on now!

Color commentary: Yup! As we discussed at the top of the hour, once the Phanatic has possession of a ball in play, all three outfielders can take it from him by almost any means necessary. THIS IS WHAT THE FANS PAY TO SEE!

Safeco Field – Seattle Mariners: Macklemore concert

Play-by-play: Another deep ball headed toward Macklemore corner in right field!

Color commentary: This might be the only concert where you’re encouraged to bring baseball gloves. Remember, if the crowd catches it then it’s an out, but if the crowd lets it drop it’s a ground-rule double. This really changes the meaning of crowd control.

Play-by-play: Couldn’t have said it better myself.

SunTrust Park – Atlanta Braves: Capri Sun pouches

Play-by-play: We have a new installment on the field. We have strategically placed Capri Sun pouches everywhere.

Color commentary: What’s the meaning of this?

Play-by-play: You haven’t seen the commercials?

Color commentary: No.

Play-by-play:

Color commentary: Oh, I see. They have to respect the pouch and then catch the ball!

Progressive Field – Cleveland Indians: Hurdles

Play-by-play: That ball is tattooed! Michael Brantley is chasing after it; now will he go over the hurdle or under it?

Color commentary: I think he’ll go under it. I think the fact that he’s wearing cleats and can get them clipped on the hurdle provides a huge risk.

Great American Ball Park – Cincinnati Reds: A moat of chili

Play-by-play: That ball is high and deep and into the chili! Oh man, Billy Hamilton isn’t going to like this.

Color commentary: The chili is H-O-T. It’s not the ideal thing for an outfielder. I’ve talked to many who have put their gloves in the chili, and they say that the particles from the chili stay in the glove for many innings after. One of the outfielders told me “On the one hand, it’s hot chili. On the other hand, if you bring a bowl with you to the outfield ... it’s free chili.”

Comerica Park – Detroit Tigers : Tigers … duh.

Play-by-play: And that ball gets past second. Now in any other ballpark, this is routine, but with the Tigers...oh boy.

Color commentary: We haven’t had an incident yet this season, thank God, but this is still the first season. We don’t know what these tigers are capable of.

Center fielder: nice ... kitties.

Tiger 1: ...

Tiger 2: ...

Tiger 3: ...

Color commentary: I personally think three tigers in the outfield is overkill, but Commissioner Kofie’s idea does have me on the edge of my seat.

Tiger 1: RAWR

Play-by-Play: Should we cut to commercial?

Director: No, this is good. He’s only biting the glove hand.

Color commentary: This will be ruled Tiger interference, and the runners will all advance one base. It’s a strategic move, and it absolutely scares the shit out of everyone on the field.

Marlins Park — Miami Marlins: A moat … of marlins

Play-by-play: Giancarlo Stanton hits this high and deep, and it lands in the Marlins’ new moat full of marlins. And the outfielders are going to have to enter at their own risk.

Color commentary: I had to Google if marlins bite stuff. I’ve heard of shark attacks, but I had never heard of a marlin attack. There is an animal planet YouTube video titled, MARLIN IMPALES BOY’S FACE...so that’s not ideal.

Play-by-play: Yeah, well the good news is that there’s only one marlin, The bad news is that marlins sounds pretty dangerous. I don’t know what Kofie was thinking with this one.

Color commentary: And it looks like the outfielder is waving his glove in the air. The signal for “I give up, this is a home run.”

Play-by-play: This is a pretty smart move too. That marlin is way too close to the baseball this time. We have seen other outfielders succeed in fishing the ball out of the water, no pun intended, because it’s a pretty big moat. This time, however, that marlin was too close for comfort. This will count as a homer for Stanton.

Minute Maid Park – Houston Astros: Bring back the hill. Move the train tracks into the outfield

Play-by-play: This ball is headed to the track. The train tracks, excuse me.

Color commentary: Now this train isn’t fast, but it’s still not one that you want to get in front of. These outfielders are going to have to go on the train or wait until it passes over the baseball.

Play-by-play: Well, this one is on the tracks, and it’s going to be close. Springer is almost there and ...

Color commentary: I can’t watch.

Play-by-play: ... He MAKES THE CATCH OH MY GOODNESS! HOW ABOUT THAT! Now he has to throw the ball over the train because it’s whizzing by him as we speak.

Color commentary: Yup, that’s right. He can’t see the base paths, so he’ll have to rely on muscle memory and hope for the best.

Chase Field – Arizona Diamondbacks: Snakes

Play-by-play: This ball will get through for a base hit. Now the question remains as to how many bases will be taken as that ball is headed for the snakes.

Color commentary: It’s important to remember here that these snakes aren’t diamondbacks, so they’re not poisonous. But they still pack a powerful bite.

Play-by-play: That’s correct. Also, these snakes aren’t big enough to swallow a baseball whole, but they are scary enough so that you won’t feel compelled to go near them. It’s time to see if the outfielders choose to let the runner score or risk getting bitten.

Miller Park – Milwaukee Brewers: A beer pond

Play-by-play: It seems that we’re going to have a shift. The second baseman is heading out to right field.

Color commentary: I’ve never seen a shift like this before.

Play-by-play: It seems like...oh, he just wants some beer.

Color commentary: I can’t blame him. It’s the 13th inning...I need some beer myself.

Yankee Stadium – New York Yankees: Desus & Mero

Kid Mero: Y’all know what it is, the No. 1 show on late night ball bags and tonight's guest is OH SHI-

Color commentary: It seems like another ball has landed on the set of Desus & Mero.

Desus: Can y’all ... um ... not hit here? We’re trying to record our guest segment.

Kid Mero: Yeah, dawg, this is the seventh time we’ve had to record this. AYO Aaron...

Aaron Judge: Yeah. Mero

Kid Mero: The next person to hit the ball over here, I want you to stomp ‘em out, B.

Aaron Judge: You got it, boss.

Angel Stadium – Los Angeles Angels: Legos

Play-by-play: That ball is hit to right center field and this is going to be really tough to get because of the new Lego here at Angel Stadium.

Color commentary: Commissioner Kofie ruled that you can only wear socks in the outfield when you’re fielding the ball. There are 100 Lego pieces spread out all over the outfield so they are going to have to watch out for the pieces.

Play-by-play: Yeah, some are easy to see while other pieces blend in with the field. Those green Legos are pretty cruel in my opinion, too ... have you ever stepped on a Lego?

Color commentary: Ever since last Christmas I can’t walk around my house without shoes on. I would have bought my kids fidget spinners or something, but those have small parts that they can swallow.

Play-by-play: Kids can swallow Legos too.

Color commentary: Yeah but like those don’t go down smooth so it’s more likely that they’ll get stuck and you can get them out.

Play-by-play: What?

Color commentary: WHAT ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO PLAY WITH?! PACKING PEANUTS?!

Play-by-play: We’ll talk about this more after the play as it looks like Mike Trout just found a green Lego and these won’t end careers but damn that looks painful.

Color commentary: Yup. Other ballparks have snakes, trains and chili ... stepping on a Lego makes the others seem so trivial.

Play-by-play: Anyway, back to the toys thing ... you didn’t get them marbles, did you?

Color commentary: What do I look like?

Play-by-play: You considered getting them fidget spinners, so I don’t know you anymore.

Rogers Centre – Toronto Bluejays: Moving walkways

Play-by-play: That ball is high and now here comes the hard part ... catching a fly ball while being on a moving walkway!

Color commentary: Yeah I didn’t know what these were called before I looked it up. I just always called them flat escalators. These players are going to have to track fly balls while moving. This is the ultimate challenge.

Play-by-play: It’s not a challenge for Jose Bautista, who makes the catch!

Color commentary: Yeah, Baustista makes it look easy. He has the advantage of playing here for half of the season. He makes sure to spend extra time on fly balls in practice. He also says to be aware of when the flat escalat— moving walkways — malfunction.

U.S. Cellular Field – Chicago White Sox: A bunch of white socks

Play-by-play: This ball is grounded and will go through the sea of socks and oh boy, this isn’t going to end well.

Color commentary: Ever since Commissioner Kofie eradicated rain delays, this outfield has become a nightmare. You have to deal with the huge sea of wet socks that are the same color as the baseball. Usually, you’ll see the fielder toss their glove and that’s to help with the digging process.

Play-by-play: Yikes.

Tropicana Field – Tampa Bay Rays: The bubble thing from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Play-by-play: This one is BELTED HIGH AND DEEP.

Color commentary: And this ball is going to stay afloat for a while. The bubble room effect from Willy Wonka has been turned on. There is no one on base and the batting team is down, so they have the one-time option to turn on the bubble room!

Play-by-play: Classic scene. “You gotta burp, Charlie!”

Oakland Alameda Coliseum – Oakland A’s: Sandboxes

Play-by-play: This ball will get between the left and center fielder. The good news is that this ball won’t get to the wall. The bad news is that it’s in the sandbox.

Color commentary: Yup, it’s hard trying to run in cleats and sift through the sand at the same time. A true test of patience and balance here. I’m just glad that this was implemented after my career because I would be struggling.

Play-by-play: You won four Gold Gloves.

Color commentary: Yes, but I didn’t have to deal with the same obstacles that this generation has to deal with now, thanks to Commissioner Kofie.

Play-by-play: Ah.

CONCLUSION

This has been a preview of what baseball would sound like under the regime of Commissioner Kofie. I hope you enjoyed this and will elected me/join me in a coup d'etat of whoever the current commissioner is.

(Base)ball is life.

— Commissioner Kofie