#but I did four fills for that too which was my initial goal which im proud of myself for achieving

[rosemirmir]

I posted all the works I did for halfamoon over on dreamwidth! Each of these fics center around the main Gotchard girls, It's a mix of both gen and femslash. Some are also fills for Fresh Femslash Salad Bar event too.

Here's the link to the series I made for these fics on Ao3. You can also check out the masterpost I made that also links to the works that are graphics!

[dakarimainink]

Happy New Year

WARNING: Fluff, friendly, little bit of alcohol, angst, a bit of bullying

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x You (Reader)

Wordcount: 1.6K

Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own.

This was a request by anon:

"heyy could u write a os about reader and pedro meeting each other at a mutual friend's party and they just hit it off??"

I'm so bad at fluffy writing because 'Im such a slut

I hope you like it.

I'm not gonna lie, I actually struggled writing this 😭

Extra note: Y/F/N = Your friend's name

DISCLAIMER: the number is fake! I got it off a fake number site!!

Masterlist

You knew your friend was popular with a lot of people, but when you were invited to their New Year’s Eve party, you had no idea there would be so many and you barely recognised any of them. You guessed some of the guests were your friend’s partner’s, but it didn’t really make a difference to you now that you were standing alone on the side-line with a drink in hand.

You contemplated to just leave and go back to your original plan to celebrate in front of your TV with pyjamas on, it wasn’t as if you hadn’t done it before, but it was nice to see your friends again, at least some of them.

While contemplating what to do next, you absentmindedly plucked one and one chip from the bowl next to you, your eyes glossing over the mingling people around. Your thoughts drifted over to how your next year would be like, what goals you would set for yourself. It had been a slow year and you were truly ready for a fresh start.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed a small group of people approaching you. You took a step to the side, getting out of the way of the snack table. You turned your head away and looked at the fairy lights slinging across the walls.

“Y/N?”

The voice made you snap your head to the source, meeting a pair of curious baby blue eyes. You gulped as ice prickled in your veins. Fuck…

“Oh my god, it is you.” She giggled and turned to glance at the three other people standing with her. “Haven’t seen you since high school.” Your eyes dragged along her beautiful features and her silver cocktail dress. “Do you remember us?”

“How could I ever forget?” You mumbled with your head hanging low, dread washing over you as old memories hit you left and right and all you wanted to do was crawl away to the safety of your bed.

“I’ll never forget that time you got your period in the middle of the class, your seat was gushing red.” The woman cackled and you cringed inward at the memory. You had to go home that day and didn’t return to school until a week later once your period was done. “Or that time you got gum stuck in your hair.”

You chewed on your lip as you looked up at her, a hint of anger lingering at the back of your throat. “That was because of you.” You pointed out; your fingers tightened the grip around your glass.

The woman took a step closer to you with a smirk playing on her lips. “Mmm, and it was hilarious. You truly rocked your new hairstyle after that.” She grasped at your hair. “You should have kept it short.” She chuckled, lightly tugging at your hair before taking a step back.

You wanted so badly to snap back at her for what she put you through. Years of humiliation you had fought to suppress resurfaced as you were facing her for the first time since those horrible years.

She folded her arms and leaned her weight to one side. “Let me take a guess, you’re here alone? I wouldn’t be surprised, someone like you are born to be lonely.”

You met her cocky gaze and furrowed your brows. That was the last straw for you and you inhaled sharply, ready to bark out at her.

“There you are.”

Everyone snapped their head to the warm and vibrant voice to your right.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.” You met the man’s gaze, warm dark eyes that radiated kindness. He stepped right up to you and pulled you in by the waist with a caring smile. “We need to get outside if we’re to catch the fireworks.”

You could feel the warmth radiate from him and the smell of dark spice and light citrus hit your senses and you inhaled deeply. You gaped at him, not sure as to what to say or do.

“If you’ll excuse us, ladies.” Shifting his hold to your hand, he led you away from them and towards the garden. You barely kept up with his long and confident strides through the crowds of people until you finally stood outside under the clear night sky.

The air was crisp and fresh, feeling grateful for getting out from the cramped and uncomfortable situation, you looked up at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you.” You breathed out.

“And I thought we were all grown-ups here.” He mumbled to himself as he gave you a once over. “You okay?”

You nodded.

“I’m sorry for just marching in there, but I couldn’t help but overhear how rudely they spoke to you.”

You cleared your throat, feeling the fuming heat cool off of you. “Actually, I’m grateful you did. I almost snapped at them, which would probably turn into a whole scene.” You rubbed the back of your neck uncomfortably.

He nodded understandably. “That would probably turn a few heads.” He chuckled and took a sip from his beer. He held out his hand to you. “Pedro.”

You took it with a smile on your lips. “No, that’s not my name.” You said with a serious tone.

“N-no I mean…” He noticed your smile had twisted into a playful smirk and he rolled his eyes teasingly.

“I’m Y/N.” You chuckled and let go of his hand, licking your lower lip in the process.

“So that’s how it is, huh?”

You nodded, proud of your little joke. “That’s how it is.” You took a sip from your glass. “You know what, I think you would look great in a hat.” You giggled, the thought had popped so randomly into your head, and usually you would have kept it to yourself, but the alcohol was already making you a bit smug.

His eyebrows shot up in amusement. “A hat? What kind of hat?”

“I dunno, just a hat.”

You both chuckled at the random thought. He nodded with a smirk playing on his plump lips. “A hat it is then.”

You cleared your throat, shaking off the thought of him reminding you of someone. “So, are you ready for the new year?”

“Yeah, ready for a new year with new adventures and new projects. And you?”

You shifted your weight to one side. God yes! “Pretty much, yeah. It’s been a long year, so ready to put it behind and get a new start. At least that’s what it feels like – a new start.” You smiled “I definitely won’t waste away in my pyjamas at all.” You added sarcastically.

He chuckled. “You know what, that sounds pretty nice. It also sounds like the plans I initially had for New Year this year.”

You snorted at his honesty. “Mine too.” You admitted with a chortle as you looked around at the other unfamiliar faces glancing at you.

“How do you know these people?” He asked, snapping your attention back at him. You couldn’t shake off the feeling of having seen this man before.

“Y/F/N and I have known each other since we were like three years old.” You replied. “And you?”

“Ah, Y/F/N is also a friend of mine. We met like - … - four years ago I think it is.” Your heart lightly fluttered at his furrowed brows as he thought about it. “Or is it three?” His eyes bounced to your gaze with a warm glow. “I can barely remember, time flies by so fast.”

“TEN. NINE. EIGHT.”

You both looked out on the growing crowd by your side, everyone facing away from you to look up at the clear night sky. You felt a smile grow on your lips as you realised it was soon to be a new year.

“FIVE. FOUR. THREE.”

They all chanted together as some fireworks flew up in the air and exploding, painting the black canvas with colours and sparks. You turned to look at Pedro beside you, who already had his gaze on you.

“ONE. HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Everyone shouted out in unison.

He held out his beer bottle and you clinked your glass to it. “Happy new year.” He smiled sincerely, filling you with warmth.

“Happy new year.” You both took a sip from your own drinks and held each other’s gaze. You both took half a step closer and he bent down, wrapping his arms around you and hugged you tightly.

“To new beginnings.” He whispered.

Safety washed over you as you stood in his embrace. His scent overrode your senses as you wrapped your own arms around him. He pulled you a little closer as you heard him inhale deeply.

“Pedro.” An unknown voice called out in the distance.

He let go of you slowly, as if he was reluctant to part from you and looked behind you.

“Alex.” He chimed and took a step to the side to greet what you thought was his friend. “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year, man. The others are looking for you, they wanna wish you a happy new year as well, come on.” Alex grabbed Pedro’s wrist and pulled him with him.

You chuckled at the sight as Pedro looked over his shoulder at you with an apologetic look. You waved at him, hiding the feeling of dismal and emptiness as you watched him leave. Pedro… You echoed his name in your head, when suddenly realisation washed over you. Pedro…! You gaped at yourself in disbelief. Holy shit!

~

You woke up with a throbbing headache, rolled over and grasped for your phone. You had a few texts from different family members, but what caught your attention was a text from an unknown number.

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

202-555-0021

You’re right, I do look great in a hat.

Omg, ahaha

You're definitely rocking that hat!

How did you get your hands on a hat so quickly?

Have coffee with me and I’ll tell you the thrilling story of how I got it

Hahah sure. When?

El Barrista in an hour? I will be wearing my hat

See you in an hour

(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know and I will happily add you)

@cynic-spirit, @lililolli, @notabotiswear, @sara-alonso, @blankmooon, @xoxo-callie, @mamacitapascal, @thewaythisis, @greeneyedblondie44

[nastybuckybarnes]

A Broken Fairytale  -  Four

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Reader AU

Summary: Sold by your mother, you work as a servant for the King and Queen of Acadia. The Prince, much to his initial dismay, takes a liking to you. When a wicked woman intervenes, your life is nothing more than a prison sentence. With a war on the horizon and a betrothal to a missing Princess that he can’t escape, Bucky is forced to be the Prince -and King- that his father wants. A pawn in a bigger game than the two of you realize.

Warnings: Angst, Language (Maybe), Fluff (Squint for it)

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Now we’re getting somewhere. Plz enjoy dis

SERIES MASTERLIST MASTERLIST UNEDITED CAUSE IM A SILLY GOOSE

~*~

“Rumour has it you’re going to the ball tomorrow night in a new fancy dress, as Prince Steve’s personal guest.” You find yourself smiling as you polish the marble floors. May stands a few feet away, cleaning the large stained-glass windows.

“He insisted. Taught me to dance too.” She laughs softly. “Mary showed me the gown. It's beautiful. I can hardly wait to see what it looks like on you.” You giggle, “she hasn’t let me allowed me near it. I can only imagine what it looks like. I’ve been dreaming about it for days.” You sigh wistfully. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Prince Steve has gotten you some jewelry and lip rouge as well. Oh, you’ll so beautiful. I just hope you and Wanda don’t get too comfortable out there with all those dukes and duchesses and princesses and princes.”

You turn to her with a soft smile, “never.”

~

“Goodness, Steven. Your skills are... incredible. Truly. This is really just... utterly exquisite,” Queen Winifred whispers. Steve chuckles nervously and scratches the nape of his neck. “Well... I’ve recently found some inspiration.” He flips to the first sketch of you and his aunt and mother both gasp.

“That’s... (Y/n). The new one. Such a beauty,” Sara whispers while admiring the detailed sketch. Steve’s managed to catch every perfection. “She’ll be my guest tomorrow night. After all the hardships she’s been forced to endure in her life, a night of the finer things is the least I can offer her. She deserves it.”

Sara smiles at her son, “do you fancy her?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “No mother. Although she’s beautiful and smart with a kind heart and a good spirit, I fancy a different dame.”

Queen Winifred laughs gently while Sara ponders something.

“What is it, mother?” She looks up then sighs. “It’s foolish, but... the princess of Corona was taken as a baby nearly nineteen years ago. (Y/n), who is quite possibly from Corona, is almost nineteen. She was adopted as an infant by a wicked and cruel woman who might even be the type to kidnap a child in order to get her way. Perhaps?” Steve’s eyes widen at his mother’s suggestion.

“You think... you think (Y/n) is the lost Princess of Corona?” Queen Winifred thinks about this for a moment. “It is a possibility, but why then would Lady Griffon willingly give her to us? That seems counter-productive. If her goal is to stop the marriage.”

“Well, she sold (Y/n) as a servant girl, giving the impression that she isn’t who she truly is?” Sara purses her lips at her son's suggestion then nods. “I don’t think we should rule out her being the lost princess. Her locket is made out of silver which is quite common amongst the wealthy and royal in Corona. And it seems to be enchanted, which isn’t uncommon in our neighbouring kingdom,” Steve says.

“I want you to find out every little thing you can about her. And this shall stay between the three of us. No one else is to hear a breath about our theories. If (Y/n) is indeed the Princess, then I fear she may be in danger even here,” the Queen says sternly.

As the other two are nodding the door to Steve’s study gets pushed open.

“There you are, Steve. Mother, Aunt Sara.” Bucky bows quickly to the two women.

“My, what have we here?” The young prince looks at the sketch, his eyebrows raising. “This is (Y/n), correct?” Steve nods. “Your skills have certainly improved, punk,” Bucky teases while looking at the other drawings of you. “You fancy her, don’t you?” Steve simply rolls his eyes. “She provided inspiration. Innocence and beauty all encompassed in one.” Bucky nods, deep in thought.8

“Well, I suppose we’ll take our leave now,” Winifred says before walking out of the room with Sara right behind her.

“These are actually magnificent, Steve. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Would... can...” He groans as his cousin laughs at his flustered state.

“What? Would you like one? Or two perhaps? Maybe the entire sketchbook? I thought appreciating her beauty would do no one any good or whatever stupid excuse you spewed.” Bucky punches his shoulder.

“Quit being a punk. I just want one.” Steve smirks but carefully pulls out one of the finer sketches of you and hands it to his cousin. “It’s all yours. Do with it what you’d like, just don’t tell me what you’re doing.” Bucky punches him again and Steve snickers to himself.

The brunet holds the paper with a gentle hand, admiring the way you look in the picture. Beauty and innocence, just as Steve said.

~

“Okay... almost finished... just one last finishing flower...” Mary trails off and you twiddle your thumbs nervously as Wanda continues covering your eyes while Mary pulls on the gown clinging to your figure. “Okay, I’m gonna put your mask on and a tad bit of lip rouge. Then you’ll be ready.” You fight a smile as Wanda lifts her hands, only for a smooth cool fabric to take their place.

“Oh, you look like an Angel right out of heaven! Now, a teeny tiny bit of lip rouge, not too much because we don’t want to take away from the entire ensemble. Pucker your lips a tad, darling.” You do as she asks and jump slightly as you feel something waxy on your lips.

“Alright dear. You can look now.” You snap your eyes open and spin around in your new flats.

Your jaw drops as you see yourself in the mirror.

The gown is incredible. With a dark blue-grey chest, a navy blue bow cinching your waist and making you look curvier. The skirt is made of a lovely pink fabric, covered in a navy chiffon-type fabric. It has small fabric flowers and gems decorating it, but not too many. The mask is the same pink as the gown, however, it has gold trim and some embellishments in the same colour, as well as a little bow and some lace.

You look... stunning. Like royalty.

“Wow. You look beautiful.” You look to the voice and smile. “Thank you, Pietro. You look quite handsome.” He chuckles then walks to his sister, who looks absolutely gorgeous in a floor-length, figure-hugging red velvet dress. Her mask matches her dress and her hair is flowing down her back.

“Steve asked me to escort you to the ball. He’ll meet you there for a dance.” You smile lightly. “So you’ll be escorting not one beautiful woman but two to the Queen's masquerade ball? Will you dance with us both?” Wanda teases. Her outfit matches her brothers and you can’t help but smile at that.

“I do plan on dancing with both of you at some point tonight, however, I think Steve craves the first dance with you, (Y/n).” You smile timidly and Wanda giggles, “does he fancy her, do you think?” You shake your head furiously, “Steve and I are just friends. Nothing more.” Wanda smirks deviously at you.

“You don’t fancy Steve... what about Prince James? Do you fancy him? You have been looking at him quite often ever since he ran into in the library. When the two of you talked for quite some time.” You shake your head again, “I hardly know him, Wanda. How could I possibly fancy someone I know nothing about?” She shrugs, a sly smile still plastered on her face.

“Then why are you fiddling so much? And why do you always fiddle when he comes up in conversation?” She motions to where your fingers are playing with a bead on your dress. “You like his royal stiffness? Pain-in-the-ass Prince James? Bitchy Bucky?” You glare at the twins. “No. I don’t. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be your concern and it wouldn’t matter anyway. He's royalty, and I’m not.” Pietro gingerly links his arm through yours.

“You could be a Princess. There’s something... regal and royal about you. You should be wearing a crown, not scrubbing the floors.” You smile gently up at him. “I should be here with Wanda and May. If I were born royal then I might not have met you or any of my friends. I like who I am.” He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Now, we should be going. I can hear music and laughter already,” Wanda says while taking her brother’s other arm. Pietro escorts the two of you to the ball, smiling as he meets up with Sam, Nat, and Clint.

“I see you’ve already taken (Y/n) for yourself,” Sam says, looking you up and down. “You look like royalty. You’ll make visiting Princesses jealous.” You laugh softly, “thank you, Sam.” He smiles and offers you his arm.

After a glance to Pietro, an eye roll and a nod given, you let go of his arm and take Sam’s.

“Steve’ll be arriving shortly, along with Bucky, the King, the Queen, and Lady Sara,” Sam informs as you reach the ballroom doors. You nod, your jaw almost dropping as you enter the ballroom.

It’s filled with people -men and women- dressed to the nines in clothes that cost more than you’ll make in your entire lifetime.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Nat asks while coming up beside you in a light green dress with a mask to match. “It’s... intimidating if I’m being honest.” Natasha rests a hand on your shoulder.

“You look like you belong here. Even if you feel like you don’t, you look like you do, so act like it. No one will know anything that’s true or not.” You smile at her words and take a big breath in. Squaring your shoulders you raise your head and walk with Sam into the room.

The people you pass stop their conversations and stare at you as Sam leads you to the centre of the room right across from a large staircase.

Conversations hardly have time to grow before a horn sounds loudly, gathering everyone’s attention.

“May I present Lady Sara, Her Majesty Queen Winifred, and his Majesty King George.” The royal family walks down the stairs as graceful as swans with their chins held up high and smiles on their faces.

“Wow. (Y/n) you look... incredible.” You smile shyly up at the man speaking, having recognized his voice. “Thank you, your highness.” Sam snickers while Steve rolls his eyes.

“Now, I must steal you from Sam. May I?” Sam places your hand in Steves and you find yourself giggling as Steve walks you deeper into the room.

“Mary absolutely outdid herself,” Steve says while admiring your gown and mask. “She did. You look rather dashing yourself.” His cheeks flush and he looks down while chuckling.

He’s wearing a well-tailored grey suit and a matching mask. The suit hugs his body perfectly and the mask brings out the vibrant blue in his eyes. And of course, there’s a lovely silver crown sitting atop his blond hair.

He smiles at you then takes a small half-step away from you as the band starts playing again.

“(Y/n), may I be the first of many men to ask tonight, if I may have the honour of this dance?” You beam up at him.”Of course, Steve.” He takes your hand in his and places his other hand on your waist. You bring your free hand up to his shoulder and start dancing with him.

People around you mumble and whisper. as Steve dances you around the floor.

“They’re wondering who you are. They know who I am, but no one knows the Princess I’m dancing with,” he whispers, the cool fabric of his mask brushing against your cheek. You look down, away from the curious and envious eyes of the upper-class men and women.

“They’re making me quite nervous,” you reply softly, grinning as he chuckles.

“Well, I doubt any of them know who you are. So what they think doesn’t matter anyway.” You nod, trying to let his words ease your nerves.

The song comes to a close and Steve sighs.

“Excuse me,” a smooth voice says, “but may I?”

You look up at the man and smile awkwardly as he takes Steve’s place. A new song starts and you dance with him, feeling exceptionally nervous.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met you,” he says after a moment, his brown eyes warm and filled with wonder. “You haven’t. This is the first ball I’ve ever attended.”  He spins you then nods. “You’re stunning. Have you any suitors? Husbands?” You shake your head no. “None at all.” He smiles, “what a shame for them. I’d like-” a hand is on his shoulder, stopping him from dancing with you.

“May I cut in?” That voice makes butterflies swarm in your stomach. “Of course, your highness.” The man disappears and Prince James takes his place, one of his hands fitting perfectly in yours while the other rests comfortably on the curve of your waist.

He starts leading you in a dance, keeping your body close to his.

“You look ravishing,” he whispers, his thumb rubbing on your hip. “Why thank you, your majesty.” He smiles, his hand slowly moving around your waist.

“Do you have a name?” You grin as you realize he doesn’t know who you are, a wave of confidence washing over you.

“I do have a name.” He chuckles and pulls you closer to his warm body. “May I be so bold as to ask what it is?” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying - and failing- to contain your smile. “Maybe. But do you deserve to know?” You’re honestly not sure where this much confidence comes from, but you’re liking it more than you want to admit.

“I think I do. But let’s say, for argument's sake, that I don’t deserve to know. What could I do to change that?” You slowly look up, your eyes lingering on his pink lips before moving up to his stormy orbs.

“I suppose I’ll have to think about that,” you whisper. His eyes flash down to your lips and you can’t help but lick them/ His fingers flex on your waist and you smile, watching as his eyes meet yours again. “Please do.”

The two of you dance in silence for a few minutes before he chuckles. “What?” You ask, smiling slightly, “do I amuse you?” He shakes his head and sighs heavily.

“You’ve bewitched me. Your voice... your beauty... like nothing I’ve ever experienced in all of my years. Have you and suitors?”

You swear your jaw drops.

“Forgive me, Prince James, but are you not betrothed? To the Princess of Corona?” He shakes his head and looks deep into your eyes. “I do not wish to marry someone who I know nothing about.” You find yourself giggling softly.

“And what do you know about me?” He looks down, seemingly shy. “I know that you’re like no woman I’ve ever met before. I know that I know nothing about you when I’d really just like to know everything. I know that not a day will pass where I don’t think of you. You’ll be in my every dream ‘till the day I die.”

You can’t seem to find any words.

“I’ll ask my father and yours if I can court you. If you’d give me the opportunity, of course.” You’re shocked, to put it lightly. “I-I can’t. You’re betrothed. I couldn’t interfere with that. I’m sorry, Prince James, but I cannot.”

You break away from him and hurry out of the ballroom, desperate to breathe. You remove your mask and lean against the wall, trying desperately to catch your breath.

“You weren’t sold to go to balls and celebrations as a guest,” an all-too-familiar voice says. You straighten up and look at the woman.

“Step-mother,” you begin, “I was invited. By Prince Steve-” a slap to the face cuts you off and you gasp, tears pricking your eyes. “You won’t speak of the Princes! You are filth!” She raises her hand to strike you again and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

When it never comes, you open your eyes.

Steve’s holding your step-mothers wrist and another woman is rushing over to your side, giving little thought to her expensive gown as she slides down to the floor beside you.

“Guards!” Steve calls, “escort Lady Griffon and her daughters out of here. Don’t make a scene about it either.” You watch as the woman who raised you gets escorted out of the palace that has recently become your home.

“Are you alright, child?” The woman beside you asks, her voice gentle and soft. “Yes, I-I believe I am. Thank you.” She smiles and lightly places her hand on your shoulder. “(Y/n) I’m so sorry,” Steve says. You wave off his apology and take a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Queen Valerie, thank you for letting me know. (Y/n), this is Queen Valerie of Corona. Queen Valerie, this is (Y/n). A very close friend of mine.” You look at the woman beside you and scramble to your feet, only to bow before her. “Y-your Highness.” She shakes her head and stands up, “no need for that. You’re sure you’re alright?” You nod your head yes then clear your throat.

“I... I’m going to retire to my chambers. Thank you for inviting me, Steve. Queen Valerie, I hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” They nod and watch as you hurry up a flight of stairs.

“Where’s she from?” Queen Valerie asks while Steve’s escorting her back to the ballroom.

“We’re not sure. She was adopted by Lady Griffon as a baby. She has a locket that seems to be enchanted from Corona so we do believe she may be from there. How she ended up here, I know not. Perhaps you have an idea?” The Queen on his arm clutches her necklace tightly.

“I mustn’t let myself hope,” she whispers softly, letting go of Steve’s arm and heading back to find her husband, leaving the young prince confused out of his wits.

~

“Mother, Father, I need your help!” Bucky exclaims, walking to where his parents are seated. “What is it, my son?” Winifred asks concern lacing her voice.

“A dame, beautiful as a sunrise. I want to court her. She’s...” He trails off while looking around, trying to find you.

“My son, you know you are to be marred. There’s no way you could court her. What is her name?” Bucky stares at the door where he saw you last.

“I don’t know. But mother, her voice was that of an angel. Her eyes sparkled brighter than diamonds. Her smile... I have no words to describe her beauty.”

Winifred sighs and takes her sons hand. “If everything fails with Corona, then you may court the girl. Is she a Duchess? Or perhaps a Princess?” Bucky sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

“She was dancing with the Duke of Winchester,” King George chimes in, looking around the room.

“I’ll ask him!” Bucky practically runs through the crowd.

“You shouldn't give him hope, George. He’s betrothed. You know he’s meant to marry the Princess of Corona,” Winifred scolds. “Let the boy have his fun. He knows his responsibilities. And if we go to war with Corona, he’ll have this Duchess or Princess or whoever she is. You’ll get a grandchild or two and James will get a strong heir to the throne.” The Queen sighs at her husband and watches as her son talks to the Duke.

“I found her dancing with Prince Steve. A beautiful one, she is. I plan to court her, as soon as I figure out who her father is.” Bucky clenches his hands into fists and smiles tightly at the Duke before setting off to find his cousin.

“Steve! Who were you dancing with?” The blond looks up, slightly startled. “Who?” Bucky groans at his cousin’s response. “She was wearing pink. Her eyes, they’re beautiful and (e/c). She was... a dream.”

Steve raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “You mean (Y/n)?” Bucky freezes, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. “(Y/)? Like... servant girl (Y/n)?” Steve nods slowly and Bucky curses. “Why? Is something wrong?” Bucky pulls Steve into the hallway and looks around to make sure they’re alone, then he rips his mask off and tosses it aside.

“She’s. stunning. Beautiful and witty. I asked if I could court her. But she’s not of noble blood. Fuck. What do I do?” Steve pats his cousin's shoulder.

“Talk to her. You don’t need to formally court her. Does your mother know that you fancy her?” He asks. “Yes, but she reminded me of my betrothal when I spoke of her.” Steve snickers despite his cousin’s glare.

“Winifred knew that was (Y/n). I had her help me design the dress.” Bucky chuckles at this, his anger momentarily forgotten. “Of course she did. She enjoys seeing me in pain.” Steve sighs and looks towards the staircase where you disappeared to. “Lady Griffon was here. She got mad and struck (Y/n). I had the vile woman escorted out and (Y/n) went to her chambers. You should go check on her.” Bucky looks at his cousin as if he’d grown a second head.

“Lady Griffon Struck (Y/n)?” Steve nods, “go see if she’s alright.” I’ll cover for you.” Bucky nods before he can think too hard about it. His feet bring him through the Palace and up the stairs until he’s outside of your room.

He knocks twice then slowly pushes the door open, looking around the room for you. Humming from the bathroom gets his attention and he realizes you must be bathing.

Just as he’s about to turn and leave, you walk out of the bathroom. Bucky’s frozen, staring at you and you’re frozen, staring at him.

You're wrapped in a thin towel, water dripping down your skin and pooling at your feet.

“Your Highness. W-what are you doing in here?” He doesn’t answer, too busy staring at your body. You shift nervously and his eyes snap up to yours. “Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

You swallow hard and hold the towel tighter around your body.

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the fantasy.”

He walks towards you and you back up, gasping as your back hits the wall.

“You’re a fantasy? A dream? No, you’re much more than that.” He cages you against the wall between his strong arms and stares in your eyes.

“W-what do you mean? What do you want from me?” He closes his eyes for a moment before cracking a half-smile. “I told you,” he whispers, “I want to court you.” You cast your eyes down, shaking your head at him.

“I met Queen Valerie. You’re betrothed to her daughter. I don’t want to interfere,” you breathe.

He carefully lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Tell me you feel nothing. Tell me you don’t want me the way I want you. Tell me that honestly and I’ll leave you be.” You shake your head and close your eyes tightly.

“I’d be lying.”

Those three words are all it takes for his control to shatter.

His hands grip your waist through the towel, holding you tightly as he presses his chest against yours. You pull in a shaky breath, your palms hesitantly resting on his shoulders.

“May I touch you?” You nod breathlessly, gasping as he tugs the towel down a tad. His right-hand cups your cheek while his left ventures beneath the towel, finding your damp skin.

“Someone could come in,” you whisper, head tilting back and eyes staying closed as his lips ghost over your neck.

“Let them,” he murmurs, gently nipping your neck as his left-hand curls around your back under your towel.

You shiver, arching up into him at the foreign feeling of his warm skin on your own. “James.” Your voice is a soft whisper and the Prince grins, his right hand leaving your cheek to pull your towel down a bit more.

“I want you, (Y/n).” You whimper softly, your fingers raking through his soft brown hair. “You’re all I want. Screw my betrothal.” The mention of his betrothal brings you back to reality and you push him off of you.

“This… this isn’t right,” you whisper while pulling the towel tighter around your body.

“Yes. This is right. This is so so right.” He leans down and kisses your lips almost roughly.

“James. James stop,” you mumble against his lips.

He doesn’t stop.

“Stop! Get off of me!” You exclaim, shoving him off of you as hard as you can.

“(Y/n) I-“ “Get out. Get out!”

He looks shocked and reaches out for you.

“Get out now.”

You move under his arm and across the room, eyes staying focused on the Prince.

“(Y/n) please. Just let me-“ “No! You’re to be married and I’m of poor blood! Please, just leave.” Your hands start to tremble as anxiety floods your body.

The Prince turns and leaves without another word, his heart aching and his stomach churning.

~

TAGS:

FOREVER:

@smolbeanbucky  @wildefire @inumorph  @impalatobakerstreet  @nanna022  @mummy-woves-you  @m-a-t-91  @wtfholland  @bookgirlunicorn  @beautifulwisdom2001  @deep-sea-glitter  @mrhiddles-81  @iamwarrenspeace  @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles  @i-know-i-can @buckyssoul @avnngrs @swoonhui @destiel-artemis @frozenhuntress67

MARVEL:

@fallenangelfangirl @look-to-the-stars-and-wish @maladaptive-ninja-returns @cliffordasparagus @april-14-blog @potteritis @momc95 @shakzer00

BUCKY:

@chuuulip @nerd-without-a-cause @natashasnight @dragonrosegardens

A BROKEN FAIRYTALE:

@starkxpotts @barnesandnoble13 @paranoiadestroyah @theonelittleone @the-loud-and-crazy-rabbit-pirate @derekxsammy @nerd-without-a-cause @coal000 @lilypalmer1987 @consumedbyfanfics @tanelle83 @fultimefangirl @apollolikescello @buckysthing @emilysallysmith @krystallynx @unscriptedtimetraveler @buckyinantarctica @the-surviving-revolutionist @seafrost-fangirl @londonalozzy @roxytheimmortal @strawberryblogg @rosariia25 @godsofimmortality @bookgirlunicorn @ign-is @afterglowamsy @doublephoeenix @littledeadrottinghood @jsmith509 @alexaduke @m00nlightdelights @denimandcabernet @crystalchrysalis19

[myneighborhood-thelake]

IronMan Canada 1998

IMC '98 meant a lot to me because it paved the way for some major changes in my life which I really needed to make. There are probably to many tri-related details and too many extraneous issues in this and the subsequent post that I will send out. I apologise in advance if you dislike rambling stories, but the IMC experience was much more than 14 hours 10 minutes and 48 seconds of swimming, biking and running (walking). It was over a year of contemplation and training, and it was 10 years of racing narrowed down into one event.

That said, please enjoy.

I think that my story starts out about 5 years ago. I was putting myself through my final years of college and money was just a little tight. I made a conscious choice to stop racing triathlons for a while to reduce my expenses. I graduated and landed a great job with excellent potential for advancement. Since I was pushing hard in my career tri's were still regulated to the backseat. 2 1/2 years passed in that job and I was experiencing severe burnout. I had focused all of my intensity on my work, and work was not as exciting as it had been when I was fresh out of college.

Labor Day (U.S.) 1997. One of my best friends got married in Philadelphia - which is an incredible town. At an after party I was talking with a couple of people - an associate editor of Triathlete magazine and a guy who occasionally does a few tri's. The tri-geek was trying to get the Triathlete editor to give him a slot for Kona. He would have been better off trying to score a date with her - there was no way that she was going to conjure up a Kona slot. She suggested IMC as a place to qualify.

The wheels in my head started to turn - "I need a challenge" "I have wanted to get back into tri's for several years" "I need a really big challenge to get me out of my workaholic rut" "Maybe I should try IMC"

Back at work I downloaded the IMC '98 application and contemplated the commitment to training for an IM. My wife was 100% behind me signing up for IMC. When we started dating I was racing tri's in Southern California, and she knows how much I enjoyed the scene. I bit the bullet and mailed in my application. I even started training  - somewhat. Four plus  years of inactivity had taken their toll. I had purchased a new Kestrel KM40 in the fall of 1996, but I only had ridden it for about 100 miles in the year since I bought it. It was pretty embarrassing to be out riding my shiny, new Kestrel as I was getting passed by everyone on the road.

I soon subscribed to Tri-DRS and saw all the traffic about IMC filling up in record time. I wondered, I worried, I fretted, and then the confirmation letter came. It was true - I was going to Canada in 9 months.

To say the least - I was really scared. I was out of shape. I had never done an Ironman. I used to train for Oly distance races using a "feeling" plan - "How do I feel today and what do I want to do?"  I knew that I could not train for an Ironman on such an ad hoc training plan.

I wrote down my goals for IMC '98. A

1. Finish my first Ironman. 2. Have fun.

After the race I would: 1. Smile. 2. Hug my wife. 3. Be happy that I went from couch potato to Ironman in 10 months!!!!

I needed some help in training, so I talked with my college teammate and now QR pro Greg Thompson. Greg suggested that I contact Lauren Alexander for coaching advice. The best thing that I did in the months prior to IMC was hire Lauren as my coach. She is a major asset.

The months flew by, I had a hideous race at Wildflower, I DNF'd at San Jose due to a mechanical, I finally had a great race at a local sprint tri and I did pretty well at the 1/2 Vineman. The 1/2 Vineman taught me that I could overcome problems during a race and still continue on to a good finish. I sent out numerous emails to both the Tri-DRS and the IMC lists asking all kinds of stupid questions. Luckily there are a lot of great people on the list who answered my questions and gave me some great guidance. Unbelievably - Taper Time for IMC arrived - my first IM was only 3 weeks away.

During all of this IM training,  life continued to march forward. My wife continued her studies and supported my training endeavors. My job structure changed again, and again, and again, and finally I found a new job that started two weeks before IMC - of course I negotiated a one week break for IMC into my offer. As always there was a multitude of issues to deal with that really got in the way with training. As time marched on I forgot about my initial race goals - I started thinking about racing IMC as opposed to surviving it, and that was a big mistake. My initial goals were what I should have focused on, but I wasted a lot time worrying about split times, average speed and run paces.

Tuesday Afternoon,

Flew from San Francisco to Vancouver. A hometown friend drove to Penticton, so I stashed my bike in his mini-van for the trip. I did not have to worry about packing a bike box, or whether my bike would arrive in Penticton on my flight.

While waiting for the puddle jumper from Vancouver to Penticton, some guy sat next to me and asked me if I was doing the race. I am not sure why he would look at me and assume that I was racing IMC - Okay, maybe the shaved legs and Specialized transition bag were pretty good indicators. He introduces himself as Scott Adams (it sounds familiar). I introduce myself as Ron Renwick. Sometimes it is very useful to have your name and email address coincide. Scott recognized my name, and further introduced himself as an infrequent poster to Jason's IMC list - this is a really small world!  Another friend of mine, Bill - from my Wildflower debacle, showed up and we waited for the plane to Penticton.

We arrived in Penticton. Scott had a seat next to me on the plane where he tried to avoid listening to me whine about how hungry I was for the duration of the flight. Thanks for the pretzels Scott. In the Penticton airport, Scott started talking to this big guy with bright 'blonde' hair and a smaller guy with very little hair. Jason Mayfield and Bruce Grant had come to pick up Scott. I think that Bruce's wife and Eric Austin may have been there too, but it was a few days ago and my memory is not what it used to be. Scott's bike actually made it into Penticton on our flight. My buddy Bill was not so lucky. His bike did not show (as expected), and Canadian Airlines had lost his suitcase too. His carry-on consisted solely of his race wheels, so he was not a happy camper.

Bill and I made our way to the Rochester Resort - 2 doors from the Sicamous, and "The Best Value On The Beach."  It was late so we walked the 10 steps to Salty's restaurant for a bite to eat. FYI, avoid Salty's if possible. Bill was able to buy a toothbrush at the local convenience store - he now had race wheels, the clothes on his back and a toothbrush - Bill was not a happy camper.

Wednesday,

0700 - I made my way to the Sicamous for my first pre-IMC swim. I met so many people that I had emailed with over the last 10 months. I only swam for 20 minutes, but meeting everyone was incredible. My goggles broke during the swim - add one more thing to my "Must Buy" list.

After a shower Bill and I walked downtown to the Hog's Breath. We grabbed a cup of coffee and some breakfast. Bill was impressed that we kept bumping into Tri-DRS'ers. I finally told him that "Everything I know about Penticton I learned on from the List."  Which meant that anywhere we went we were sure to bump into some Deads. We walked around town, checked out the construction zone of the Athlete's village and hit the Bike Barn - a really cool bike store. Most bike shops in the SF Bay area are pretty streamlined. They look more like a Blockbuster Video store than a neighborhood bike shop  - everything is in its proper spot. The Bike Barn rocks - racks of stuff and a good assortment of bikes. Bins were overflowing with stuff. It was a great place to dig around for bike goodies. The place was humming with tri-bikes. There must have been at least 8 workstands going continuously.

We went to lunch at Front Street Pasta (Jason's choice) a great meal for a very low price. I finally met Dave 'the starving student" Barclay. Jason was quite the entertainment director - as the week progressed he started looking more and more like Julie Tewes, the Cruise Director from the Love Boat ;-).

My bike arrived in the afternoon - reassembly consisted of putting the front wheel back on (no allen wrenches for me). For dinner it was Front Street Pasta again this time with my bike hauling friend Ray, Bill, Dead Chris Nugent and lurking Dead Bob Castaldi. A post-dinner beer with Ray and Greg Pressler was quite relaxing. Greg truly is a poet at heart.

Thursday

Thursday was my glycogen depletion/carbo load day so I did a solo swim and run and 4 of us rode the first 15 miles of the bike course out and back. We meant to ride the run course, but we turned left on McClean by mistake. We then picked up our registration packets and got our wrist bands. It was official - I was signed up for an Ironman.

Friday

I missed the 0700 swim by 10 minutes, so I did not get to meet anyone new from the list. However, after the swim I finally met the person that I have tried to meet for months now. We train in the same locations, we race the same races and we live only a few miles apart, but I had never met this person. Finally, after a 2000 mile trek to Canada, I finally met Tri-Baby, the one the only Tricia Richter. Now I wonder how the hell I missed seeing her in other races!  And I thought that Jason had some noticable hair.

My buddy Ray and I went to the Hog's Breath after the swim for a dose of caffeine, and we bumped into some deads (imagine that). Gerry Kuse was talking to Tricia and Skippy. He was wearing a 1993 Mike and Rob's shirt, a race that I had my 1/2 IM PR in way back when (it's a small world). It turns out the Gerry and I have raced at several of the same races over the years.

At the carbo load dinner we learned that there would be 675 IronVirgins racing on Sunday. 40% of the racers were attempting there first IM. Wow!

Saturday

My wife flew into town on Saturday morning. I was really glad to see her. She had been so supportive of my training, and she deserves the title of IronMate. She had originally been scheduled to fly up with me on Tuesday, but her school schedule mandated that she stay at home during the pre-race week and attend classes. I often say that you should always have at least one smart person in the family, and I was lucky enough to marry well.

The day pretty much flew by with the pre-race meeting, the parade, packing Special Needs Bags and bike check-in. My nutrition plan was pretty simple - Gu and Cytomax and salt tabs. I had trained with Gu, Cyto and salt tabs over the past 10 months with great results. At the last minute I decided to toss an Okanagan pear into my Bike Special Needs Bag.

A post parade dinner at the Gunbarrel and a walk home were all that I needed for the evening. It was time to get some sleep. Before I drifted off I thought back to my original goals. Oh yeah, I was here to have fun. I was not here to break 14 or 12 or 10 hours, but I still held out for a good race even though I knew that I just wanted to finish. I wish that I would have looked back on my goals more often.

The actual Race Report follows.

Sunday - RACE DAY

I started the day with a 3:00 am breakfast run to Denny's. Ray and I figured that an early breakfast would be useful for us. I had actually slept for about 5 or 6 hours the night before, and I felt pretty good.

At about 5:00 am I gathered my Special Needs Bags and swim gear bag and marched 3/4 of a mile to the transition. I got body marked, Championchipped and went straight to my bike. Even at 0500 the volunteers were friendly and incredibly helpful. I chose to leave my floor pump at the hotel [good choice] - with my floor pump absent from the transition area there were only 1,699 floor pumps in the TA waiting to be used. In addition there was a crew from the Bike Barn with a compressed air cylinder for filling tires. I pumped up my Conti's to about 160psi, loaded my aerobag, filled my jetstream and walked around the corner to the Swim and Run transition bag racks.

The 2 hours from 0500 to 0700 flew by. I chatted with a few friends, revelled in the fact that I was about to start my first Ironman and donned my wetsuit. I did a warm up swim for about 10 minutes in the clear Lake Okanagan. I chatted with Chris Nugent. I high-fived and chatted with Greg Pressler. In Greg's race report he mentioned that he saw "fire in Ron's eyes."  With all due respect, I think that Greg is confusing the "Happy Face" holograms on my goggles with fire.

Meeting the people on this list has been a special thrill, both Greg and I have both been doing tri's for over 10 years, but we had waited until now for our first IM. We both had that "This is finally it" feeling, he went on to an incredible race that he really deserved.

The day before the race, Greg had a great observation about the IMC swim course. "It's an International Distance swim on the way out, a few hundred meters to the right and a 1/2 IM swim on the way home - we have done this before."

Oh Canada was played. I think that I heard some bagpipes somewhere, and the race STARTED!

I was here to have fun so I held back for a few seconds to let the mass of humanity clear out from the start line. I started swimming. I kept thinking to myself "This is so COOL!  I am finally doing an IronMan."  I passed the first set of marker bouys and thought to myself "WOW, I just passed my first set of IronMan marker bouys. This is AWESOME!"

The swim went very well. It was much less brutal than Wildflower, and the course is very well marked. I  was so happy to be racing. I was bumped a few times, I swam over a few folks, I drafted a little and hit some toes and I was drafted off of. I hit the first houseboat (leg 1) in 25 minutes - I was ecstatic. I stopped for a second to adjust the neck of my wetsuit as I was experiencing a little chafe. I made it to the second right turn at 35 minutes - one more leg to go. The swim course is so well marked that I had to do very little sighting - maybe one look every 10 strokes. Basically, the swim was all mine. I focussed completely on how I was doing. If I bumped someone or got kicked it just did not matter. I really enjoyed being out there. I hit the beach and attempted to walk over the annoying rocks.

I looked at my watch - I had completed the swim in 1:06!!!!!!!!

I was expecting to have a 1:20 swim as I have only been in the water 5 or 6 times since Wildflower in May, and two of those times were tri swims. A 1:06 was incredible.

I thought "It cannot get any better than this!"

It did not get any better.

In fact, things got far, far worse.

SWIM TO BIKE TRANSITION

I wore my Speedo and singlet under my wetsuit during the swim, so I only had to don my cycling shoes and helmet. I also stopped to urinate - little did I know that I would not have to worry about that for the next 12 hours. . .

I rolled out of town feeling really good. I had just finished an incredible swim, and I was finally starting on the bike leg of my first Ironman!  I took it easy for the first 5 miles - I figured that I had 107 more miles to make up time. I hit the drops as we hit South Main Street. My first priority was to hydrate and the cytomax was not tasting very good. I spun my way up McClean Road and picked off many people on the downhill - when you weigh 195 pounds downhills are a real rush. My stomach was a little tight, but I attributed that to being so early in the race.

At the bottom of McClean someone was nice enough to tell me that I had lost my pump during the rapid descent. The bracket holding my pump on my bike broken off. "Nothing I can do about it now - I hope that I don't flat."

At about mile 10 my JetStream went dry. I had a bottle of highly concentrated Cytomax on my downtube with markings on the bottle to delineate portions. I shot some Cyto concentrate into my JetStream and filled the rest with water to make a 7% solution. I immediately took a drink from my JetStream. The concentrate and the water had not mixed together, so I got about an 80% solution of Cyto in that mouthful.

I should have pulled off the side of the road and tossed my cookies.

I chose to keep the cytomax concentrate down and chase it with water - it's hard to say, but this may have been a big mistake.

My stomach started cramping big time!  I could no longer drink. I tried to take a Gu, but I could not get it down. 10 miles into the bike and I could neither hydrate nor feed - OH NO!

I tried some different positions on the bike to alleviate my stomach cramps. The aero position put direct pressure on my abdomen which was not feeling too good. I alternated between sitting upright and going aero.

I was still doing pretty good with respect to speed. At mile 41 I took the right turn to head up Richter.

Can someone please tell me why both Wildflower and IMC have a hill at  Mile 41???

At the base of Richter I was still holding a 22.5mph average. Then I started climbing Richter. In the grand scheme of things Richter is not a terrible climb. I ride much worse on my regular training rides. However, Richter is at mile 41 of an IM and I had not eaten much for 3 hours (swim and bike time)

I bonked.

I hurt.

I struggled to the top of Richter,

I cursed the wind.

I quit looking at my heart rate monitor - it just did not matter.

I got passed by most of the people racing at IMC.

I got passed by pedestrians who were walking up Richter.

The downhill after Richter should have been a lot of fun, but I could not hold a good tuck. I only hit 47 mph. The uphill after Richter and the rollers through the Osoyoos were intolerable. I just kept pedaling forward. I stopped at about mile 60 to eat a banana - finally I was able to consume something. I was very happy that it stayed down. I continued to slog forward. The head wind was really causing problems. Even the flat spots were hard to ride. I promised myself that I would take a break when I got my special needs bag. I passed a med tent on the way out the second out and back section. I was very tempted to stop and take a nap.

When I got my special needs bag, I rode to the closest clear spot, dropped my bike and sat down. I  opened my bag. The Gu's were completely unappetizing, but the pear looked great. I started eating my Okanagan pear  - man that tasted good. Unfortunately that was the only good item in my SNB. [Note to Self:  diversify nutrition plans in future long races]. Some saint in one of Jason's IMC-RST jerseys stopped next to me. It was John Welch. He had an extra turkey sandwich that tasted incredible. I could eat! This tall guy with a mustache and a blue Softride stopped next to me. He was not having a good day. My personal saint, Jeff, said "George are you OK."  It was George Ball. Since I was sitting on the ground in close proximity I have to say - George has some big, skinny feet. George was not feeling too good, and he crossed the road to sit down in a chair.

I shouted to a teammate, Gerry Morton, but he looked around at eye level and missed me sitting down. I saw Tri-Baby, and pretty soon Steve "Gibbo" Gibson rolled up. Gibbo looked incredibly fresh. He looked more like he had just started his ride than that he had already ridden 75 miles. Gibbo's special needs bag was missing and he was pretty irate about not getting to his vegemite sandwiches. To be honest, I have tried the stuff and I think that he was better off not having access to his vegemite, but then again I am not an Aussie ;-).

I gave myself 20 minutes of rest at the special needs stop. The first couple of miles felt OK, but soon thereafter my quads wanted to quit (again).

The course turned back onto Highway 3A and started the gradual climb to Yellow Lake Hill. It was really hot and really windy. Then we hit Yellow Lake Hill. I kept telling myself to live only in the moment - forget about the rest of the race - things will get better, but I was really hurting. It became a battle of feet. Instead of pushing to get to the next mile marker, I goaled for the next traffic sign or the next rock on the shoulder of the road. Bit by bit, pedal turn by pedal turn.

Finally, I stopped on the climb and sat on my top tube for a while (I chose not to time myself). Most people were really great. Almost all of the athletes asked if I was OK, and the race marshalls stopped to check on me. I seriously thought about dropping out. I looked at my watch just as it hit the 7 hour mark. I was at mile 90. I did a quick calculation - I had 10 hours to ride 22 miles and run a marathon. 22 mile rides are easy spins during training. I could do this.

I chose not to DNF. I started riding again. I passed some guy who was walking his bike and I decided to do the same. Two teammates passed me as I was walking, my buddy Ray and Tana, who always looks like she is just out doing an easy training ride even though she is hammering along. They made sure that I was OK as the cruised on by. I made it to the aid station at the top of the hill. A volunteer offered me cold, de-fizzed Pepsi. Pepsi was not in my pre-race plan, but then again, walking up Yellow Lake was not in my plan - I took the Pepsi.

The caffeine and sugar boost was amazing. I started riding once again. My stomach wanted to get rid of the Pepsi, but I made it stay down. I passed Ray and I caught Tana. Tana and I chatted for a minute until my specialty arrived - the Yellow Lake Downhill. I expected to cruise with the downhill bias back into town, but after the big downhill the headwind took over again. I slogged back to the transition area.

As I crossed paths with the people already on the run course I tried to assess their condition. Some people looked pretty good, but most were looking pretty tired. I got to the transition area, but I forgot to slip out of my shoes before I handed off my bike. My brain was not working too well.

BIKE TO RUN TRANSITION

Since I was going to wear my speedo and singlet for the run I did not need to change. I went into the changing tent just to sit down for a while. I applied some vaseline and stuck some reflective tape on my speedo. Ray had slipped the reflective tape in my Bike-Run bag (thanks Ray). I ate a little watermelon and drank some water. The watermelon tasted great, but I was worried about it staying down during the run. I left the changing tent to start my first ever marathon.

An Amazing IMC tidbit - I fully expected to have to carry my gear bags to a rack and hang them up. For both transitions you simply leave the gear bag on the ground. A volunteer comes along and gathers up the gear bag and hangs it on a rack - so simple - so easy for the athlete.

THE RUN

My original plan had been to start running slowly and see how things turned out. Running slowly was not a problem - everything was going to be slow. Running fast was unthinkable. I walked the aid stations, drank, ate a little bit and drenched myself with sponges. It was really hot!!

My first mile was an 11:30 and I was really happy. I hit mile 2 in 22:30 - amazingly I was actually picking up the pace (if only slightly). I walked mile 4. At mile 6, I was caught by some guy who wanted ibuprofen. After Vineman I made sure that I had Ibu with me, so I handed him a tablet. We chatted for a while until it became obvious that we knew each other. It was Dennis from RST and Greg Pressler's friend. Dennis pulled me to the run turnaround by alternating running and walking. Dennis kept talking about his Run special needs bag that contained a pair of dry socks. I remembered that my SNB only had Gu.

[see Note to Self from Bike Special Needs bag section - vary the contents of the Special Needs Bag]]

My split time for the 13.1 miles to the turnaround was 3 hours even. My friend Bill ran into and out of the turnaround looking great. He had a mechanical on the bike that cost him almost an hour.

Then I remembered that I had also put a pair of dry socks in my special needs bag. In fact I had brought a pair to Canada just for this purpose. The socks were pretty old, so if I chose not to wear them it was no big deal if I lost them. I was so happy that I had remembered to put fresh socks into my Needs Bag. The socks would only provide a momentary relief, but that moment would be enough. I needed something to brighten my day.

Dennis and I sat down to open our special needs bags. We ripped off our shoes and wet socks. We opened our special needs bags. Dennis pulled out a pair of dry socks.

OOPS!  I had forgotten to pack the socks. I put my sweaty socks and shoes back on. Putting wet, icky socks back on was not the most pleasant feeling. The delivery truck with the chicken soup stopped at the turnaround.

I originally had hoped to be off the course by the time the chicken soup hit the aid stations. I had never envisioned myself only being halfway through the run when the chicken soup came out. Oh well, here I was and the soup smelled good. I sipped a cup and almost hurled. What is manna from heaven for many triathletes just did not sit well with me - I gagged at the first sip.

We started back down the road toward Penticton. The sun was starting to set which meant that it would finally cool off. Ray was just climbing the hill to the turnaround. He was surprised that the turnaround had come so soon - he looked smooth in his running form - nice and steady.

For Dennis and I it was:

Run some.

Walk more.

I ate what little I could at the aid stations.

Ray caught up to us just as we caught up to Bill. Bill had looked great leaving the turnaround, but he was struggling through a low point now. The four of us marched slowly along - it was good to know that every step was bringing us back into town. After a while Bill perked up again, and he and Ray started jogging back to town. Dennis and I kept shuffling along. A mile or two later, Dennis ducked into a porta-potty and I just stopped by the side of the road - the first time that I had urinated in 12+ hours!  Believe it or not it was a major mental boost. I had really been starting to worry about my kidneys.

It became apparent that Dennis had a lot more left in his legs than I did. I wished him luck as he disappeared around a corner. My feet were really starting to hurt. I did not have any blisters or abrasions, but it felt like someone had taken a meat tenderizer to the soles of my feet and my toes. I was almost hoping that a couple of my toes would just fall off so that they would not hurt anymore. I came around a corner and hit another aid station. On the other side of the aid station Ray and Bill were walking slowly. They had dropped their pace in order to wait for me - THANKS GUYS!!!!

At that point we were about 20 miles into the marathon. Two women came running by us like it was a 10K - I wondered where they got the energy from. A few seconds later about 4 guys caught us and they laid out their very detailed plan for breaking 14 hours. It is great to be at a race with sooooo many engineers - almost everyone is incredibly analytical. The plan was pretty simple - hold 11 minute miles and we would break 14 hours, but these guys had even calculated walking zones and rest stops..... To everyone we passed - two of the guys kept on saying - "hop on the 9:00 o'clock express. You can do it."

It turns out that the guys had also shared their plan with the two women who had run by like gazelles. The women had found something inside themselves and they chose to push it hard into town. Unfortunately we passed them about 1/2 mile later as they could not hold that pace that they had charged ahead with.. We left the water line of Skaha Lake and started climbing the rollers. I passed another guy and this time I looked back and saw a Tri-DRS singlet. I introduced myself and finally met Jay Capers.

The group of us was still shuffling along trying to hold 11 minute miles. The detail oriented engineer guys were still calculating our odds of breaking 14.   I dropped off as we went through the Skaha rollers, but I was able to catch the group again on the downhills. Ray and Bill were feeling pretty good, so they pulled ahead. This left me with the two human calculators/cheerleaders. The guy on the right introduced himself. I was not hearing or concentrating very well so I thought that he said his name was "Ralph."  He corrected me that his name was not "Ralph" but  "Rolf" - even my feeble brain was able to decipher that I was running next the "Keeper of the IMC Lodging and Goal Times List"  I introduced myself to Rolf Arands.

The guy on my left said "didn't I give you a sandwich at the bike Special Needs Bag?"  It was John Welch of RST. He had saved me on the bike and he was trying to pull me in for a sub 14 hour finish.

As before - we were shuffling along - only we had picked up the pace to give ourselves a margin of error. We debated about how fast we were running

"do you think this is a 9 minute mile?" "I think it's more like an 8:30" "Yeah right, like we could run 8:30's right now?" "It sure feels like an 8:30"

We turned onto Main Street and hit the aid station. I had to walk and asked Rolf and John to run on. Rolf tried to talk me into running with them, but I was not up for it. The finish line was getting closer, but I was hurting too much - my feet were lodging a formal protest.

I kept trudging along on Main Street. The fans were incredibly helpful. An ironvet on a bike talked to me for over a block - he was very motivating. I promised him that I wouild run again when there were three stoplights to go. Hurricane  Bob Mina passed me and I congratulated him. I started jogging again.

Two blocks from the Hog's Breath I picked up my pace. I ran (actually ran - not jogged) the last few yards of Main Street - high fiving the kids and cheering with the crowd. I could not believe that I was running. The left turn onto Lakeshore Drive was incredible. I ran hard to the finish line and crossed in 14:10:48.

I completed my goal. I had gone from couch to Canada in 10 months. I am an IRONMAN.

POST-RACE:

Two incredible volunteers escorted me from the finish line. Somehow I received my IMC towel, finisher's medal and T-shirt (the correct size - how do they do it?). The ladies escorted my to the line for the massage tent per my request - they stayed with me for several minutes until they were sure that I was OK - they brought me water and some chicken soup. The chicken soup actually tasted great. I had a great massage, and I walked back to the finish line to find my wife who was standing right next to the results tent. It was sooooo good to see her. I got my congratulatory hug (over the snow fence) and I heard how proud she was of my accomplishment. After a very long day that was filled with ups and downs it was very uplifting to hear her words.

I picked up my gear bags, changed into some dry clothes, had my finishers photo taken (remember to wear your finisher's shirt and medal - they look great in the photo), I soaked my legs in a hot tub, and I waited to no avail for some pizza. I then picked up my bike and Winter and I walked back to the Rochester. My eyes felt like they had a salt shaker dumped in them - I had to squint to see anything. Winter was hungry after waiting for me for several hours so we went to the Iguana for a bite - nothing else was open at 11:00pm. Fajitas in Canada are not what I am used to - what is a tomato tortilla anyhow????  My stomach was still in an act of rebellion so I took my meal home to eat the next day. We turned on Channel 11 to watch the 17 hour finishers - there was no way that I was going to make it back to the finish line. The fireworks (like the start cannon) went off a little early. I then realized why my eyes were barely open - I was EXHAUSTED. I passed out almost immediately.

THE DAYS AFTER

I awoke on Monday feeling hungry (finally). My stomach was still a little tender, but I managed to eat.

I was happy to have completed my first IM in such difficult conditions, but I was frustrated that I had fallen apart during the race. 14 hours was much longer than what I had hoped to do.

I contemplated IMC '99. My legs hurt, my stomach still ached and I had not totalled the bills for the cost of IMC '98. I did not want to come back to Penticton again in '99. Then I thought twice - this race has the best organization and volunteers of any race that I have ever done. I want to do better than a 14 hour IM. In a month I would be ready to contemplate IMC '99, but I would not have a month to decide. I chose to submit my application for '99.

The rest of the day was a blur - finisher's merchandise, results book (Vineman and Wildflower's took about 3 months to arrive - IMC's was complete with pictures in about 10 hours), awards ceremony, shopping, packing, meeting friends, handing my bike off to Ray for the drive home. soon it was Tuesday morning and time to fly home.

Back home I evaluated the race. In Penticton, surrounded by IronVets, my finish did not look to stellar. As I reread my goals for the race and talked to non-triathletes I started thinking clearly again:

I have completed every one of my IMC '98 goals.

I am an Ironman.

I am not the same person that I was 10 months ago and I am very, very happy that I did what had to be done in order to finish.

To every IronVirgin out there - good luck training for your goals, and be sure to remember what your goals are!!!!

[yasugapped]

Tagged by @superjojolimon , considering how vague the “rules” are i have Rebelliously Interpreted the questions as changeable so i just like swerved whatever seemed 2 plain for my tastes. also a lot of these just seem repeated/too similar?

rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you wanna get to know better

gender: female

star sign: sag rising, libra sun, taurus moon ;^)

height: 5′3″ but can and will kill you 

mood: a dimly lit image of a possum eating oreos. munchin crunchin havin a good night

favorite bands: death grips ..... i’d say more but i’ll let u all think on that one for awhile .... 

song stuck in my head: like. the ending credits to spongebob

favorite animal: trick question its All of Them.

last movie I watched: i watch NOTHING ......... i have. never watched shit or fuck in my entire life?? ?. .. i actually cant remember i Really dont watch movies, the only ones i really like are perks of being a wallflower, internal sunshine of the spotless mind, and donnie darko

last text u sent: ok i screenshot this picture of funny valentine and his stand like “couple goals” ... .. . .. .

when did I create my blog: i dont know or care but when i made it i hadnt even read part 8 ??? i literally was committing to yasugap before i even really knew what it was like ............ im such an authentic fan,.. also, the only other part i’ve read is 4, which i read solely because i saw a picture of josuke and loved him with my Life .. i literally only read it for josuke content and didnt care much (and still dont) for the real story of it. i enjoy part 8, story wise, way more but also i love josuke2.0 a lot and i just.. . love josuke And josuke bitch whathe thefculk1!!!

fear fear fear fear fear: i am extremely hesitant to invest in any potentially horrific or goretastic display because i have like. the worst paranoia. in january youtube kept playing when my sister and i fell asleep and when i woke up it was on a video of markiplier playing an scp game and it Shook me so much. i have literally never been the same. theres an scp thats just shadows on the wall and now i cant stop hyperfixating on the shadow on my bedroom door at night... it iis !! the worst!!!! bitch!!!! :^(

another strange fear is that, i sometimes get this extreme paranoia im not alone in the bathroom and i will typically pull back the shower curtain to make sure nothing’s hiding. i’ve also legitimately checked under my bed and in my closet, but the bathroom fear is a lot stronger than those for some reason.

last thing I googled: oh my god its “funny valentine” ... w-what a shock!! wh..o wouldve guessed. ... .. have i mentioned i havent read part 7,

sipp: i actually cannot live ... without coke ... uhm ..., i prefer coke entirely flat but also cold. i pour them out into a cup and set them in the fridge to fizz out. literally. also i cant stand ice in drinks. 

hmmm one of those uh GET THE BOOK NEAREST 2 U AND READ THE 69TH WORD OF THE 420TH PAGE: ok so this book is house of leaves. it is my favorite book and has been for a few years but i’ve never finished reading it ;^) 

i think the technical 69th word was ‘in,’ but here’s the whole lil paragraph there: “Near the centre, in crisp focus, squats Delial, bone dangling in her tawny almost inhuman fingers, her lips a crawl of insects, her eyes swollen with sand. Illness and hunger are on her but Death is still a few paces behind, perched on a rocky mound, talons fully extended, black eyes focused on Famine’s daughter.” this book has a writing style i extremely admire. it is filled with senseless, mindnumbing extents of detail and confusion, it feels almost like a modernized version of poe’s style???? also neat about this book is the looks - if you’re interested, try looking up just pages from house of leaves.

last thing u devoured viciously: we went 2 this mexican restaurant i’ve been to a bunch, i always get the same thing, but this time i got this taco salad. it was disappointing. like it literally wasnt good and i was upset, 

NAME???? i just realized this question isnt here like how are u going to get to know me without THIS ...: like,, i dabble a ton in original content & characters, and my ... sonas are always named maizzey starr, and “maizzey starr” is like my BRAND so i go by maizzey a lot but as far as my real literal name ITS KAMRYN !!!!!!! like im so unique and good ..... ... ... starts crying

password style: i have only had like four different passwords in my Life. this makes it supremely easy to figure one out on a really old account or website.... i dont understand people who ...... make up different passwords for everything,, i also never initially use capital letters unless prompted. i do use numbers in like one of them.

favorite colors: i usually like colder colors more than warm, but in general i prefer bright and colorful things. rainbow rainbow rainbow rainb

average sleeping hours: oh my god ........... this is wild. i don’t have any kind of sleeping schedule whatsoever. my schedule will do fucking FLIPS 3 times a week - i recently got melatonin gummies to try and get myself on a schedule but i legitimately think i have like a sleeping issue :^(

what am I wearing: d-dont ask questions u arent prepared 2 hear the answers to.............

dream u can remember: my last dream sequence went like this. i lurking forums for club penguin. people were discussing a penguin who was kin with napoleon. like kin as in the THIS IS ME not kin as in family. and other people - .. penguins....- were also starting to be napoleon kin and it was a trend and the original napoleon penguin was angry? this vision entirely dissolved and i was in my room at night, in my bed, and i looked over to my closet as an unknown, fleshy figure leaped for me. this is literally the most terrifying dream i’ve had in my entire life. oh my god

last meme u made: FUCK .... also this

how do u have pizza: I PREFER PEPPERONI ... im ok with plain cheese especially like when its cold??? i odnt like hot cheese pizza idk why ,, .. im not very adventurous with my pizza.... i really want a dessert pizza 

weirdest thing u’ve Actually put in ur mouth: nail polish...... i saw one of those my strange addiction episode with a girl who ate nail polish. i think i tried like three different colors - they burn slightly, the taste isn’t totally disgusting but its also not like.... appealing?? OMFEJFSDJJDGDHJFDJFDSGFD 

also one time i thought. we had a those huge bricks of baker’s chocolate BUT IT WAS WAX CUBES so ive tried cinnamon wax cubes too oops!!!!!!! i mean they tasted like cinnamon so..., .h-heh , , ,..kvkfkj

any pets: YES BITCH .  .,, . i have.. THREE (3) entire whole living dogs. and also ! three guinea pigs. i love dogs more than i love anything. .. ,, . .. . 

also im 2tired 2 tag so i mean u kno goodnight 

[mochitaiia]

Four O’Clock

apheeweek day seven: Midnight + Flower shop AU + Sveest

“They’re called Four O’Clocks ‘cause they only bloom at night. D’ya wanna see ‘em?”

(also on ao3)

Aaaaaaand final day of apheeweek! I get to complete my goal of writing all the Nordic/Estonia ships. :’)

The image of Berwald having a personal garden inside his flower shop is too cute to pass up, and I found some exclusively night-blooming flowers and I feel like they fit him, specifically Four O’Clocks

-

I’m not a wedding planner, thinks Eduard. He thinks this thought several dozen times on his way to the flower shop. He isn’t a wedding planner, but he is planning a wedding. Toris’ wedding specifically. How he landed a partner is beyond Eduard; between the two of them, he always considered Toris the one that lagged behind.

Then again, Toris has a fiance. And a house. And a better paying job. And now, with these realizations, he also has Eduard’s playful contempt.

Latin stares back at him on his phone screen as he pushes open the glass door to the shop. It’s quaint, aromatic (It’s a damn flower shop, of course it is.), and comfortable, like home.

Eduard never gets out in nature much. Most of his job allows him to stay at home, programming websites for small local businesses. He only leaves to buy groceries, or see Toris or Raivis or Tino. And he never needs to see any of them, so he doesn’t leave. It’s a bit lonely he supposes, but he doesn’t mind.

He opens his mouth to call a greeting, get the attention of somebody, but nobody is around. He checks the time. It’s just after seventeen, so somebody should be around. The shop closes at eighteen. He waits for another minute, staring at the Latin on his phone, trying to identify what Toris wants for the wedding in the shop based solely off name, but he has little success staying in one spot. When nobody comes to help him five minutes later, he makes himself comfortable and begins browsing alone.

Among the flowers, his fumbling to find whatever Toris asked of him leads him to a closed-off room. The lights are off, but the sunroof lets in the last bit of sunset the approaching fall allows before winter takes over. Eduard raises his hand like a visor over his eyes and rests it against the glass to peek in. His eyes dart between his phone and the flowers he can make out before he decides nothing in there is what he’s looking for. He rolls his eyes at the futility, turning around.

He all but jumps out of his skin when over six feet of blonde intimidation stares down at him.

Dropping his phone is the least of his worries. The stranger in front of him is big, extremely big, and his arms are as big around as Eduard’s head. The man’s glasses sit precariously on the very tip of his nose. An apron, presumably the shop uniform, is tied over his tight black shirt and dusty jeans. His hands are stuck in his pockets, and with his back straight he stands so tall Eduard has to crane up to look at him from his semi-crouched, surprised position.

The man mutters something, but Eduard can’t hear him. His eyes fall to the apron where a name is stitched into the blue fabric. Berwald. He blinks.

“Can I help ya?”

Eduard snaps out of his thoughts when the tall man, Berwald based off the stitching, speaks. His voice is gruff, raspy, as if he doesn’t use it much. Based on how quiet the shop is, he probably doesn’t. Weakly, he replies, “Uh... my friend, he’s got a wedding, and he wants me to find him some flowers. I don’t know what they are-”

In the middle of him speaking, Berwald kneels down and retrieves Eduard’s fallen phone from the floor. He pulls of the corner of his apron and wipes the screen. Once he drops the apron, he adjusts his glasses and looks at the screen. Silently, he walks away with the phone. Eduard presumes he’s to follow Berwald, so he does.

Not three minutes pass before Berwald locates every flower Toris had listed. He plucks one from every vase and offers the makeshift bouquet to Eduard. “These’r’em.” His voice rumbles so low in his throat, and if he weren’t so intimidated he’d admit it’s kind of attractive how deep Berwald’s voice is. He always did have a thing for people stronger than him. “Y’can get whichever ya like, or ya can call yer friend an’ ask him which he’d prefer. Whatever works fer ya.”

“He-” Eduard swallows the lump in his throat. “Toris is at a fitting today until half past eighteen. He won’t be done until after you close...” Berwald doesn’t respond, and as is his nervous habit, he fills in the silence. “Well, I could call him and ask him! Let me just have my phone and I can-”

“’s fine,” dismisses Berwald. He offers the phone. “I don’t have any other customers, an’ no plans tonight. Y’can call ‘im when he’s done. Unless,” his eyes turn away, and curiously he seems embarrassed, “y’got other plans. Which if ya do, don’t need t’stay. Come back tomorrow.” The makeshift bouquet, which Eduard hasn’t taken yet, raises up and hides his face. Even with the blockade, he can clearly spot a blush upon Berwald’s cheeks.

Instead of answering him directly, Eduard gestures to the side room door where Berwald initially surprised him. “What’s in there?”

If he’s not mistaken, Berwald’s eyes widen a fraction in surprise. It’s like the guy expected Eduard to be bolting out the door instead of asking him a conversational question. His expression softens and a small smile peeks through the gaps in the bouquet. “My garden.”

“What kinda flowers do you have planted?” Eduard’s not sure why he’s asking questions and not leaving. It’s probably the way Berwald seems to relax, and the way a bit of light glitters in the back of his eyes. It’s cute. Even on such a large, intimidating, scary man, the glimmer of happiness at being engaged in a conversation is cute and it makes Eduard want to talk to him more.

“Mostly this one kind. They’re called Four O’Clocks ‘cause they only bloom at night. D’ya wanna see ‘em?” Without hesitation, Eduard nods. Berwald sets the bouquet of Toris’ flowers on the front desk and on the way to the personal garden, he stops and flips the sign at the front of the store to indicate the shop is closed. It makes a bit of nervousness pool in Eduard’s gut, but he ignores it. Berwald doesn’t seen the type to... do something like that.

Berwald digs a key out of his pants pocket and unlocks the door. He slides through and holds the door open until Eduard’s inside. He shuts it and makes his way along the edge of the garden, kneeling halfway. Eduard follows carefully, not wanting to lose his balance and crush what appears to be a loving project by Berwald.

“These.” Extending a finger towards the center, Berwald indicates a vibrant mix of yellow, white and pink flowers. Eduard leans forward, hands on his knees as he gets a better view. The flowers are in pristine condition, and it’s evident gentle care and consideration went into their upkeep.

Eduard breaths out, “They’re so pretty,” and he hears a proud rumble come from Berwald. He glances out of the corner of his eye and the blush is back on his face. His hand is raised in an attempt to hide it, but Eduard can still see tinges of red. He tries not to grin, but he can’t help it. “I can tell you really put forth effort to make these the best they can be. Tell me about them.”

Berwald catches his eye, and his blush increases. “If I did that, we’d here here ‘til midnight.”

“Well,” Eduard squats to be less than eye-level (even down here Berwald is so much larger, and it makes his pulse skip a little), “you said you don’t have any plans.” He raises his phone and shuts it off right in front of Berwald’s eyes. “Now I don’t either. You have any tea?”

Getting lip from Toris’ partner for not getting the flowers ordered will be well worth it. Eduard has more important things to do, like stay up until well past midnight chatting with a handsome, surprisingly shy stranger about his garden. Even when his eyes grow heavy, he can’t bring himself to point out it’s nearly one in the morning.

Eduard falls asleep around four o’clock on Berwald’s couch, and he wakes up with an apron smelling of flowers and an earthy scent covering his body along with a blanket. The pillow his head rests on smells so nice, so much like Berwald that he figures he can sleep another few minutes. He shuts his blurry eyes and hums peacefully.

What Eduard doesn’t notice is the pillow he cuddles is, in fact, Berwald’s chest, and the owner of said chest is a flustered mess when he smiles and presses closer. As he drifts off again, he barely feels a hand rest on his shoulder comfortingly, protectively.

[notesfromthepen]

THE MAKING OF AN OUTLAW

THE MAKING OF AN OUTLAW

I was five years old when I smoked my first cigarette. 

It took me and my best friend john a week of planing. Which is an eternity when your five. A few days in and we seriously considered just waiting until we were adults. But the plan was already in motion.

We lived in military housing for enlisted men with families in Fort Campbell Kentucky. Military brats. We stayed just a few houses from one another. Initially you might think that growing up on a military base would provide the much needed structure and discipline to otherwise deviant youths. You'd be wrong. In a way we were all children of single parent households. The patriarchs were gone all day, at the same time, creating a "Lord of the Flies" free-for-all for the hordes of adolescents that swarmed the base. Many firsts in my life happened on military bases. Where men are men and kids are heathens.

John and I were best friends, more like co-parented brothers actually. We spent most of our time at his house. He had all the cool shit, namely a Nintendo game system. Our households were very different. Both with macho, old school, fathers who believed a good ass whooping trumps a good talking to every time. But that's where the similarities ended.

My house was what you'd probably expect of a decorated military man and war hero. The air of a no nonsense authoritarian rule filled our dwelling and my psyche. However that was only when dad was there. Mom was the complete counter balance to dads energy. A punk rock chick that spent her teens partying with bands and madman like the Ramones, MC5, and Patti Smith. Mom has always been a free thinking, tough, rebellious, and completely loving woman. It was a completely odd paring but the balance of the two extremes worked well. 

Johns house was a completely different vibe. Where my house had two strong personalities that competed for control. Johns had one clear ruler and his agenda was decadence and fun. They had all the newest toys and implements of entertainment. Big TVs, calico vision, VCR's and...... A Nintendo Entertainment System!.. The N.E.S! For those of you who were born in to a world with preexisting gaming systems I cannot over state the mind blowing affect of the first Nintendo system.

Johns parents smoked like chimneys, drank competitively and had a knee high stack of playboys next to the toilet.. A fucking wonderland for a kid. I wasn't aware of the term "white trash" at the time and even of I was, if that's what they were, I would have thought of it as high praise. 

All the houses on the base were the same. Bare bones, two bedroom houses with a flat roofs and a wooden sheds towards the back. 

Much of the neighborhood debauchery took place in or around those sheds.

Its rare to be able to pin point exactly when and where you became a man. For me it was the first time a caught a glimpse of the inside of johns dads shed. Every inch was plastered with the centerfolds of adult magazines. Vixens with giant breasts, startling tan lines and even more startling bushes (it was the eighties). It might sound tame now, in the post internet world of porn hub but trust me when I tell you it was life changing. Im pretty sure that I sprouted a single pube right there on the spot.

Neither me or John were saints before our latest plan. We'd both sipped the last swigs in our dads beers before, took part in petty vandalism, had been into our fare share of fights, and we were now both veterans of perusing adult magazines, and so we decided the next logical step in our initiation into adulthood was to start smoking cigarettes. Again...We were five!

It wasn't a complex plan, however it was high risk. Since we were practically men now a lil risk was nothing to be afraid of. 

We made a list of the implements necessary to accomplish our goals. It was a short list: A lighter, two cigarettes, and that's pretty much it. We would get the supplies in stages. We decided to get the cigarettes first. They would be the least likely to be missed. If we made it through phase one unnoticed and unscathed then we would proceed to phase two operation "fire grab". Which was just the stealing of a lighter.

The heist would take place at johns house because, well, my parents didn't smoke. We staked out the area, the players, and the goods for a full day. Johns dad was a "no-go" for several reasons. one: he wasn't there during the day. Two (and far more importantly): was the real threat of physical violence. Johns mom, on the other hand, was there all day, left her cigarettes in the kitchen, and we were confident that we could out run her if shit went sideways. She would be the mark. 

The next day we would snag one cigarette from her pack, stash it,.and repeat the process the following day, as to not arouse the suspicion that two missing cigarettes might cause.

John showed up at my house right after breakfast. We walked to his place and formulated our plan of action. Since his mom was never stationary for too long we'd need a distraction. That would be johns job. Leaving the thievery to yours truly.

We approached his front door. My heart rate began to increase as we closed in on the threshold to the little square house. Upon entering, the kitchen was immediately on the left. John pointed a the table at the far end of the kitchen. He mouthed the words "right there". A soft pack of cigarettes sat under a red lighter perched atop the table. I tip toed into the kitchen as he went to run interference on our unsuspecting mark. His mom sat on the couch in the living room folding laundry in front of the TV. Between the laundry and the soap opera drama she was completely enthralled. In hind sight our "distraction" was not only completely unnecessary but it almost did us in. As I approached the table and silently lifted the lighter off the the pack of smokes, John said "hey mom whatcha doing?" 

There were two doors leading into the kitchen. One in the entryway of the house and the other, at the other opened into the living room, where johns mom sat with her back to me and the table. If she turned around she would have immediately saw me handling her pack of cigs.

Johns question startled her out of her soap induced trance. She briefly looked around. I froze with lighter in one hand a her pack of smokes in the other. My heart had never beat so fast. Just before her head swung around far enough to witness the crime in progress John picked up the remote and changed the channel. "Can we watch Space Balls?" asked my codefendant. She stopped dead in her tracks “Goddamn it John!! Go out side and play!" To this day I've yet to meet more than a handful of people more capable than a five year old John in that moment.

As quick as a magician I pulled a single cigarette from the pack, placed it back on the table and positioned the red lighter on top, exactly as I found them. 

With the contraband secured we shot out of the house like two bottle rockets. The screen door slammed behind us partially trapping the string of obscenities that followed.

Once far enough away we slowed to a walk. My heart still pounding but in a different way. 

So began my true addiction. An addiction to that special mix of adrenaline and chaos brought on by the subverting of rules. An addiction that has followed me like a shadow for my entire life.

It wasn't the first cigarette that I'd ever seen but it felt like it.I rolled it between my fingers examining its details. I looked the little brown filter with the tiny imperfections in the coloring. I noticed the horizontal lines, so thin that they were almost invisible, on the white paper of the cigarette. I stuck it under my nose like a fake mustache and inhaled the aroma. it smelled so much nicer that the ones in he ashtrays at johns house. I looked around before letting it hang from between my lips like I'd seen the neighborhood teens do at the park. John was less enamored by the spoils of our heist. He'd probably already done this foreplay to smoking a few times.

We made it to the shed of a uninhabited house on my street. I went in and stashed the cigarette on one of the two by fours in the dark wooden box. Step one was now complete.

The plan was to let another day pass before going back to snag the remaining implements of our delinquency.

The next day, our day of inaction, crept by at a snails pace. We bull shitted around trying to distract ourselves from the single cigarette waiting to be smoked in the empty shed. 

There were two parks on the base: Sunny park and Shady park. At that age things are clearly defined, either black or white. There aren't many grey areas when your five. The two parks on the base were perfect representations of this hard line. The parks gained their nicknames obviously enough; one was sunny and the other shady. But the meanings ran deeper and its taken years of perspective to fully appreciate the depth and meaning of the two parks.

Sunny park was designed by convince. The block of houses in the center of the neighborhood created a huge field in their collective backyards. In the center of this sea of green sat the makings of a playground: swing sets, monkey bars, a slide, a merry-go-round and a big dome of interconnecting metal bars that created a geometric contraption to play on or bash your shins against. Not a single tree or bush grew in the field. Every inch was bathed in unobstructed sunlight and every action visible from the rear windows of the surrounding houses. Windows constantly manned by the bored and nosey housewives of the enlisted men. 

No one under the age of twelve used Sunny park for anything other than a short cut to the other park.

Shady park, on the other hand, was designed by no one.

Shady park was tucked away in a wooded area, on the outskirts of the neighborhood, hence the name. Dirt paths leading in and out of the park cut between the towering trees. The occasional few rays of sunlight that made it through the foliage created islands of light on the park floor.

I'd walked past Shady park everyday on my way to school. From the side walk you could hear the older kids in the park skipping school. The crash of breaking bottles, foul language, and general teenage revelry was the soundtrack to my walk. Every few steps I'd catch a glimpse of the forbidden playground and its inhabitants. A mixture of fear and excitement gave goosebumps to my skin.

So in an attempt to burn through the rest of our day, while we waited for tomorrow to bring us phase two of our heist, we decided that we were ready for a romp through the darker of the two parks. After all, we were just a few days and a couple of puffs on a cigarette away from becoming men.

I remind you that this was the eighties. A decade where the, now cliche, douchebag bullies from eighties movies really existed. 

Around the same time one of my cousin Judy's "friends", complete with long ratty hair, fingerless gloves, and a single dangly cross earring, flinched at me like he was gonna punch me in the face and said "Fuck you pussy!" Again, I was five! He must have been seventeen going on forty. I was so young, small, and Asian that he had to flinch down at me.. This goon was completely serious too. A hundred percent unaware. It was so par for the course at the time that only after entering adulthood did I realize how ridiculous it was. 

Man I miss those days and that specific brand of asshole. And I only mention this to give reason for our trepidation of Shady park and the characters we were likely to meet up with.

John came over and we walked towards the park. We approached the foot path that lead into the park. A path that I'd walked past a thousand times, always knowing, in the back of my mind, that the time would come when I was meant to follow it. Today was that day. Ten steps in and we were in a different world. It was oddly quiet and noticeably darker. The thought that we'd interrupt a group truant teens knee deep in some sort of unholy communion made me queazy. John was the silent type but I knew he felt the same. 

About ten yards in, the narrow dirt path split in two, then three, then four paths, before opening up to the Shadiest of parks.

Huge sections of concrete tubes, big enough for us to walk through, littered the park at random intervals and angles. The left over artifacts of some unfinished drainage project. Each cylinder with its own custom smattering of spray painted obscenities and vulgar pictograms. Some familiar others confusing. On one tube, a giant red dick seemed to be assaulting some sort of hairy clam standing on end.

The park felt and sounded empty. 

We huddled in the first tube that we came to, the one with the clam, to get our bearings. The bottom of the tube glittered with jewels. Diamonds, emeralds, and gems of every color crunched under our feet. At the opening of the other end of the tube sat the biggest gem id ever seen. An emerald with part of a 7up logo on it. Some of the smaller shards had been there so long that their edges were dull and rounded. We picked the best ones and put them in our pockets, to build our fortunes with later.

We exited the concrete tunnel and made our way into the heart of the park. An old swing set was the center piece. Large chunks of green paint had been chipped away exposing rusted metal. The stillness and the silence made for an eerie setting. John kicked one of the swings. The chains creaked and rattled forever. It was like time stopped. Like we were un-welcomed visitors. We were technically [in] the park but something was off. We were tourists. Sightseers... Trespassers. 

We walked to the decrepit merry-go-round and sat down. It groaned under our insignificant weight. I don't remember what we said. Probably nothing. John kicked at some pebbles. The chains of the swing set eventually went silent. 

Finally, I said "let's get outta here." 

We walked home in relative silence. I knew that things would be different once we smoked those cigarettes. The forbidden part of the world would finally open up to us. We'd be adults. We'd be enlightened.

I could hardly sleep the night before the next phase of the heist. It was like Christmas morning. I woke early, poured a bowl of cereal, and sat down in front of the TV. Before I could drink the pink tinted milk from the bowl John was at the door.

"Bobby, John's here." I jumped up, tossed the bowl into the sink, and ran outside.

When I saw john he was already smiling. "You ready?" he asked. 

Now, the plan was to grab the last cigarette today and the lighter tomorrow. So I assumed he meant "was I ready for phase two?" When in fact he meant "Are you ready to do this?" 

He looked around before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a a single cigarette and a red lighter! What i did to deserve such a sneaky, conniving, grab the bull by the horns, type of best friend like John I'll never know, but I was grateful.

My palms started to sweat. Hesitation and fear fought for control. Reasons to abandon our plan suddenly flooded my mind. However it didn't take long for another kind of fear, the fear of looking like a pussy, to override my better judgement. Such is life. 

With chests out, strutting like roosters we walked to our shed of inequities. Some of the neighborhood kids were gathered in a driveway. They couldn't help but notice the confidence. Or maybe it was the cigarette that dangled from my lips. I pretended not to notice them as we neared, feigning a conversation with John. 

One of the kids, I can't remember his name, ran up and asked "John, what you guys doing? That ain't a real cigarette is it?" 

To which I smirked at him. 

"Nothing" said John and we kept walking. John flicked the lighter as we made our way down the street.

We made it the house, up the side and to the shed out back. John struggled to open the door. He had to lean with all his weight to force it open. 

I followed him into the dark and musty wooden box. I grabbed the cigarette that we'd stashed away and tried to hand it to John. His back was to me as he leaned his head out the door.

"Get outta here, we're busy!" 

"Here" I said and handed him the cigarette. As he took it I glanced out the door. The two boys we walked past were coming up the side yard. I pretended to be pissed but was secretly glad to have an audience. I mean what was the point of being an outlaw if no one was there to witness it? 

At this point the cigarettes were merely symbolic. 

"Forget them" I said.."Gimme the lighter." 

I grabbed the lighter and flicked it several times before it sprung a flame.

This was years before burn stop cigarettes and child-proof lighters that infuriate the drunk and elderly smokers of today. 

I held the lighter out and lit johns cigarette before lighting mine. 

I need to make this perfectly clear. At the time I had absolutely no idea how to inhale. The idea alone would have confused me. As far as I was concerned you just puffed on the cigarette by pulling air into your mouth. But none of it really mattered. This wasn't about smoking anymore. It was about rebellion.

We both stood there puffing away, filling the small shed with smoke almost immediately. I did my best impression of an outlaw who had done this a thousand times. But the fact that my eyes were starting to water from the smoke almost gave me away for the rookie I was. 

As I fought back the tears two more nosey kids made their way up to the shed. It was the two black girls that lived next door to me. They were sisters (I mean that in their relation not color, though I guess both could apply). I don't remember their names and any attempt to guess would probably just come off as a tad "stereotype". 

I do remember that, of the two, I liked the younger one. She was sweet and funny. Her older sister was an asshole, already jaded by the ripe old age of seven. She was mean and spiteful. I was actually glad that she was there to witness my bad-assery, maybe now she would give me the respect that I deserved. 

The entire time the onlookers said nothing. They just stood witness, looking dumbfounded. 

We finished our cigarettes, left the shed, and walked through the kids gathered around the shed. The older of my neighbors, the jaded seven yr old, said "ewwwwww" in a admonishing tone as we walked by.

John and I walked home together. The only words spoken were his":I gotta get this lighter back." I nodded and we parted ways. 

I got home and went straight to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I went to my room and sat on my bed. I sat there staring at my Hulk Hogan poster and realized that I didn't feel any different. I wasn't more mature. I wasn't more bad-ass. I wasn't an Outlaw..

Some time passed, it felt like hours but I can't be sure, when my mom opened my door a crack and said "don't go anywhere your dad wants to talk to you when he gets home." My heart sank. I knew it was a wrap. Right then and there I knew it was over. A mixture of panic, embarrassment, and fear set in.

I wasn't a tough guy. I was a scared kid afraid of an ass whipping.

It turns out that as soon as we left the shed the neighbor girl ratted me out. My dad came home, promptly threatened to hand me a sore ass, reminded me that I was anything but a tough guy compared to him, and grounded me for a month.

So there it was: my life as an outlaw had started and ended in a single afternoon.

Life has a strange way of giving you, not what you want, but only what you're ready for in that exact moment. And there's no way of cheating life. No way of speeding up the process.

And so for the time being, Shady park and my life as an outlaw would have to wait...

[survivor-themyscira-blog]

https://cdn.dtbrownseeds.co.uk/product-images/op/z/19780z.jpg

FUCK U

JORDAN

I WASNT YOUR LEAK

LOOK WHERE IT GOT YOU

GOD DAMMIT!!

Like literally Logan, was like "you were the honestly honest one".

And Toph's all like "we can't trust emily."

And Jaidens like "im so happy you brought me back AND took out pines." And like mad n ian are like "alliance needs to be strong."

And yeah I haven't spoken to anyone else.

But im sure they're like "damn kai was hot in that tribal."

Or something similar.

So Jordan Pines, you are so very welcome to join my hall of trophy votes. The idol I played wasn't mine but Kai's. Kai transferred it to me because Emily told us you were gunning for me with swapped antiope. QQ You join names such as Seamus, Brandan, Tyler, and Catfish Alexa on my stuffed and mounted

I’m so scared Logan is suddenly being so nice to me he messaged me like hey love and then started telling me to drink fluids and stay healthy and I’m scared he’s plotting against me. And Toph is the complete opposite. He’s being flat out rude to me sending me snapchats of him flipping me off and telling everyone that I can’t be trusted and it’s SO RUDE like wtf I know they can’t but like don’t tell them that!

ok so this puzzle is literally destroying my sanity

i shit you not i turned on GHOST MODE for this motherfucker what was i thinking??? "GEE I REALLY WONDER WHAT THE FUCK THIS PUZZLE MIGHT LOOK LIKE, AND GHOST MODE WILL SURELY HELP ME PUT IT TOGETHER"

god no wonder its called the hell puzzle, i never wanna see this spiky shit again

I feel like the past 24 hours or so have been a lot of “firsts” for me. This is the first time in a Tumblr game I’ve ever been voted out, and later returned due to a twist!! This is the first time I’ve beaten Jordan Pines in an individual challenge :~) (my favorite accomplishment). This is not, however, the first time I’ve felt like a complete outcast! Fuck!!

Basically, I join the merge tribe after vanquishing the Goliath to my David. I expected triumphant cheers of happiness that mister Pines was finally eliminated, but there was nothing more than a sigh at my entrance. Nobody even initially congratulated me.

So here we are, hours after I got back into the game. I guess it’s been almost a full day since then, actually, but I put my absolute all into this competition. I knew from the get-go there’d be no chance in flaming hell I’d win immunity today unless everyone else just decided not to bother. No matter how quick I get done with that puzzle, I had a feeling that I’m still going to get second or third at best. But I’m actually okay with it!

Another first that I accomplished was that I didn’t give up when faced with an incredibly difficult task. Look, beating Jordan Pines wasn’t as hard as it seemed. I’ve gotten him voted out of games before, how much harder could it be to just get him out of a simple ten-point challenge? In comparison to today’s immunity, it was like jumping from little league to major league in a minute. Thankfully this puzzle wasn’t last night’s challenge, lmfao. So I accomplished just getting the puzzle done. Win or lose, this is a proud moment. I literally spent over 8 hours just trying to get the pieces together, and 7 of those hours were spent just today alone. The outcome won’t take this feeling away from me. I’m proud! This gives me a really good argument for myself at a potential final tribal council – I came back, stuck to my guns, and proved that I never gave up at any moment in this game. EVEN KNOWING I could lose such a challenge, I dedicated eight whole hours of my life to getting this shit done. Whew.

I mean I guess there’s a little hope inside me that anyone who completes the puzzle gets some sort of reward out of it… I doubt that’s the case, but it was enough to really kick me into high gear during the first 20% of the puzzle or so to just keep at it. I needed that push.

Anyways, now that I’m back in the game, I need to find some allies. I started working on Rhone and they gave me some useful information about what went down in the game. None of it made ANY sense because I’ve missed so much, but Kai was another person that really tried to instill in me an idea that I could work with him, too.

Before coming back, I was super anti-Jordan Pines. I knew that he was gonna be a tough cookie to crack if I were to magically return and have him still here. So I played that up a lot to Kai in particular, at least to give myself an option if I need one. This might give him a sense that we’re on the same page, wanting to take out the remainders of Jordan’s allies. I’m just kinda waiting for him to swoop down and take me in under his wing. Really, I’m waiting for anybody to do that at this point…

Then again, I’ve got Rhone as a potential “in”. I’ve never played with Rhone before, but I know they’re really smart just by talking to them. I don’t want to even flirt with the idea of lying to Rhone or being a little bit dishonest. I need to be as straight-forward with them as I can because they’re NOT the kind of person I want to lie to for any reason. They’d see right through me and call me out on it, which I don’t need right now.

An idea I’ve had would be to just fill in the spot Jordan Pines made with his alliance. Hopefully they’ll accept me as a new number, because clearly I’m very against Ian. There’s like, no chance I’ll work with either Ian or Madeline or Toph at this point (and I’m not even going to talk to the latter two because… choke), so if I can find a way to send those three out back to back to back? Sign me right up!

Logan’s changed his profile picture to a leek because of some mysterious “leak” drama going around. Like, oh please keep sinking your ship. I promised Dan I wouldn’t target Logan for a bit because Dan wants to see him go far, but like Logan is kinda unnecessary to my game at the moment. I don’t trust him because he doesn’t trust me, and although I don’t have a lot of options, shattering Jordan’s old alliance *might* be beneficial for me in the long-run.

I don’t understand subtlety, so I don’t care if I win immunity and if I do, it’d be a freaking dream. I am going to make my presence in this game known one way or another, so these people had better prepare for that. I should, too. Thankfully, I’ve got this redemption idol so if things look grim for me tomorrow night, I know I’m getting at least tenth place. I don’t want to position myself as the easy vote since I’m a returner, so… let’s try hard to stick around this time and not get messy. Since I’m here, I may as well try to get to the end this time and not be chaotic as fuck. It doesn’t take big moves to win the game, but it does take strong relationships to get people convinced you deserve to win over everyone else. Like I’ve said, I have to right my wrongs from before I was voted out. Then again, I don’t let go of grudges so who knows what the future has in store for me. All I know is I’m glad I'm over that hell of a puzzle.

I worked on that puzzle for over ten hours. The most I got was 35%. At least I tried.

Step one of my master plan. Cry in everybody's PMs and tell them why I DO NOT want to go home.

Step two of my master plan. Become Jordan Pines. Everybody loves Jordan Pines, so why would they vote him out? It just makes no sense. Only Ian and Kai and whoever else voted for him yesterday, and there's no fucking way I'm not getting AT THE LEAST Ian's vote. I kinda need the majority here, so it seems like my best bet is to just make them think I'm not Jaiden.

Step three of my master plan. Scramble. Hard.

And finally, step four. Play the idol on myself. Hopefully I have enough votes coming my way (aka all but mine) and I can look like a good fucking player for once and take out someone I don't like (aka Toph).

HOPEFULLY everyone votes for either myself or Ian. If Ian goes home, then yay he's dead. If they all vote me, then boo you guys just fucked up and now I cancel all the votes : D

I don't know who is willing to work with my cracked ass at this point, but I'm not going down without a fight. I'm gonna pull out all the stops to make shit happen, I'm just really really scared that I won't do it correctly.

me @ everyone in pms: "hi this is your master speaking, please vote for ian"

we all know the real jordan pines uses mind control

I'm going into the second hour on a private call with Ian while we're talking in two different alliances we're in together and discussing our PMs with people. NO ONE can sneak anything past our duo.

I love Logan my only goal in this game now is to get him to not hate me

https://youtu.be/5hV-WJy_kUI

I’m waiting for someone to Jeff Varner themself to make this vote easy

Honestly it's so funny when I have to pretend I don't talk to Ian much and even say he's sorta awkward to talk to. IF ONLY PEOPLE KNEW JUST YESTERDAY WE TALKED FOR 5 HOURS.

my dad is dead

i dont know who to trust

im immune tho

and i got a super idol

neat.

I've heard my name all day long and that gets mentally draining and I tried to set in place a plan to keep myself in, if it works,great, if not oh well it's been a fun ride so far.  The reason it wouldn't work is one it's very contingent on Nicholas throwing his vote and Two- Dammit Toph spilling the real name to someone we don't need knowing, the point of getting people to throw votes is them not knowing who we might be coming for. Anyways, we will see and if I go out no one can say I didn't try

I did the thing that I wanted to do the least in this game tonight well maybe not the least I don’t know I’m using voice text for this just so everybody knows in case this is a total mess I blame Siri anyways tonight was horrible I had to cast a vote for road and I love road to death and just hoping that Rome doesn’t hate me for a bit is it just God I just really I don’t even know what to do anymore in this game I’m just I’m really relying on dudes James and to do each oh my god this is such a mess and I just I recorded a video confessional earlier but I just know I won’t have time to upload it and I’m just leaving rehearsal now and I just I don’t feel like typing but everything is it’s a mess I want to cry and a half like God Charlotte JD LA I’m so upset this This is the fucking worst and I I don’t even know if the boat is going to go my way tonight I feel like I’m really betraying Nicholas because he’s going to cast a vote for Jaden thinking that everybody else is going to vote for Jayda but nobody except I haven’t so I don’t even know if I’ll trust me after this of Oracle try to get me out or something I don’t know what I’m really trusting telephone and really trusting Madeline and Ian and Kai and I’m just  so so so upset I’m going to listen to Pasha to drown out my sorrows hopefully I’m home in time for life tribal but do I even want to be on live tribal tonight I really don’t think I do god this is such a mess why do I play these games all it does is make me sad and stressed I don’t know fuck

Sorry Rhone, I was the one who convinced Dudes, Dames, and a Deutch to write your name out then convince Toph to his a double vote. It was nothing personal other than you were JP's right hand and you voted me. We just had to go with a name that wasn't being thrown around in fear of an idol...Which one was played it was just Jaiden(I told you guys we couldn't go after Jaiden this round) and he played it on me. That's two idol's used on your boi right here, I am in your house stealing all your idol'd votes. The best part, neither of them have been idols I have found! Who needs to search the island when you can get people to play their advantages with you as a beneficiary. As per usual shout out to my girl Madeline, love ya girl we couldn't have pulled off the moves we made so far without being 100% honest with each other. Special shout out to Jaiden as well, thank you so much man you made my day and I think I can start to rebuild a relationship with you, eventually all alliances must end and I feel if you stay in the game for when that time comes we can pull something off.

The only idol that won't be getting played on Ian this game is going to the idol of my heart. I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD IF THIS BOY PLAYS ME HE'S OVER.

[apsbicepstraining]

Old flames Mario Balotelli and Milan start to regret reviving the occasion | Paolo Bandini

Injury may have impeded Mario Balotellis return to Milan, but his attitude on the tar – rather than off it – has led to more the issue of his wasted talent

He is to say situations would be different. He told us he had changed his courses. Mario Balotelli told us all the words he thought we might want to hear as he rejoined Milanon loan this summer. Ive learned from my misunderstandings, he did. Ill grant everything. At one point, he even informed Gazzetta dello Sport that: I used to be a boy named Mario, but now Im Mario the man.

If he clanged like a spurned love trying to win back a lost spouses acceptance, then perhaps thats exactly what he was. Balotelli had adored Milan since he was a child, and was not the first to frame the relations between the two countries in romantic expressions. Adriano Galliani announced the strikers imminent return last-place August by telling reporters: Some affections never end.

The Rossoneris chief executive is notorious for his willingness to arouse old-time liaisons. Such players as Andriy Shevchenko, Ruud Gullit, Kak and Roberto Donadoni have varied the golf-club under his stewardship, only to proceed afterwards in their careers. None had already been recaptured anything like their best organize during their second stints with the team.

So why fus with Balotelli? He had never sparkled as brightly as the aforementioned wizards in the first instance. His ten-strike charge for Milan was robust with 26 goals tallied in 43 tournament images and hitherto he had faded following a bright initial six-month trance. It was Balotelli who salvaged a third-place finish for Milan after joining in January 2013, but he too who obtained 10 yellow placards and one red-faced while cutting a tetchy and isolated illustration during the following campaign.

Since then, he had weathered a dreadful time at Liverpool tallying only a single Premier League goal and falling behind Rickie Lambert in the pecking order. Milan fans were not exactly stirring for his recall. In information, there used to be whistlings at San Siro when Balotellis name was announced amongst the equivalents for the home opener against Empoli.

But there was some technique to Gallianis madness. Balotelli, unlike those previous high-profile returnees, was still in his mid-2 0s. Besides, this was only a loan with no cost fixed. In gist, Milan were going a risk-free experiment of a participate they had sold for 16 m a year earlier, and whose better seasons could still lie ahead.

The golf-clubs new administrator, additionally, had an existing relationship with Balotelli. Sinisa Mihajlovic had been an deputy at Inter back when the player was emerging from the Nerazzurris youth team. A private find was arranged between them before Milan signed off on the deal.

You will need to be the first to arrive and the last to leave, Mihajlovic was reported to have told Balotelli. You must ever give your all, otherwise I will make sure you find your suitcases waiting outside the gates of Milanello.

Balotelli seemed to have taken that word on board. He put in a swashbuckling cameo off the bench during a derby demolish to Inter before commemorating his first start with a fine free-kick destination to open the scoring in a 3-2 win over Udinese.

Just when his stellar was in the dominance, though, he was sidelined by a athletics hernia. The harm, which turned out to require an operation, took Balotelli out of action from September right through to mid-January.

When Balotelli reverted, he discovered that he was no longer needed. After a difficult firstly half to the season, Mihajlovic has at last received an attacking partnership that worked, MBaye Niangs range and readiness to float out and serve intersections from either side reaching him the perfect foil to Carlos Baccas penalty-box prowling.

Milan went nine recreations without defeat, surging back into the hasten for European regions. Where formerly Balotelli asked Why ever me? now he was instead turn left meditate Why never me? He averaged fewer than 13 times on the pitch in his first eight league games back from trauma, and failed to record a single aim or assist.

Mihajlovic was unsympathetic to propositions that Balotelli necessitated more substantial opportunities to make an impact. The number of minutes you have on the pitching do not thing, said the manager. You can be decisive even in five. He needs to show me that he has feeling and desire.

That final feeling was its most important one. Innovated for the succumbing instants of a 2-1 win over Genoa, Balotelli had been asked to lead the defensive endeavor from the figurehead but never broke out of a move. Merely a late intervention from Milans athletic manager, Antonio Bovenzi, deterred a frenzied Mihajlovic from storming over to make an example of his striker at full-time.

Sinisa Mihajlovic alleged Mario Balotelli is not yet amply fit. Photograph: Elisabetta Baracchi/ EPA

And yet, after Niang marred his ankle in a car accident last week, it was Balotelli to whom the manager grew. He may or may not be the most obvious selection. Jrmy Mnez, Milans preceding scorer in 2014 -1 5, has invested most of this season recuperating from a hernia of his own but started alongside Balotelli in the Coppa Italia semi-final second leg against Alessandria on Tuesday. The Frenchman touched a pair of goals during what became a 5-0 rout.

Balotelli grabbed one just as he had be done in order to the reverse fixture but his rendition again shortage dynamism or verve. Various newspapers determined him as the most difficult participate in a red-and-black shirt.

Mihajlovic persisted, selecting Balotelli to start alongside Bacca in Sundays match away to Sassuolo. Unlike third-tier Alessandria, these rivals were strong enough to give Milan real concerns. Just six points behind the Rossoneri at kick-off, Sassuolo had won both home editions of this fixture since their promotion to the top-flight in 2013.

They would soon make it three out of three. After taking the extend through a beautifully taken destination from Alfred Duncan in the 27 th instant, Sassuolo never looked at risk of going pegged back. Nicola Sansone shaped the score 2-0 under contentious situations late on, his team-mate Davide Biondini fortunate not to have been penalise for a pollute on Andrea Bertolacci in the buildup, but Milans legitimate grievances over that incident could not mask their own drawbacks in attack.

Balotelli and Bacca never appeared in sync as partnership agreements, the former is inadequate to fill wide cavities and give junctions as Niang might. If the lack of cohesion was comprehensible, given the two players scant ordeal of playing together, then Balotellis indifferent body language and failure to impose himself on his own terms were harder to justify. He did not touch the dance once in Sassuolos penalty country, and was subbed off in the 55 th minute.

His replacement, Mnez, did not fare much better. Mihajlovic claimed subsequentlies that neither player is hitherto at full fitness, but that disagreement is becoming harder to immerse. Almost two months have gone by since Balotelli moved his first post-injury illusion, against Fiorentina. This was the first tournament pair he had started since then, and likewise the first one Milan have lost.

We cannot accuse his conflicts on extra-curricular distractions. With the exception of one crude gesture made towards Napoli supporters who collected outside Milans hotel to abuse him last-place month, Balotellis behaviour has been beyond reproach. He has saved his head down, bided out of the gossip line and adhered diligently to riders Milan be incorporated in his contract governing conduct, social media use and even personal grooming.

But the cold reality is that he has achieved little on the tone so far to reassure Milan that this relationship was worth revitalizing. He had recently 10 competitions left in which to do so, and is unlikely to play in all of those unless his actions sharpen up swiftly.

Balotelli may experience annoyed by the timing of his hernia, which cost him force at a time when the picture was beginning to look a little more positive. He would not be the first lonely soul, though, has found that the success or flop of any love affair can come down to a matter of timing.

Talking points

No change at the top, with Juventus maintaining their three-point produce over Napoli after both teams won. The Partenopei will be happy to have Gonzalo Higuan back among the goals after recent overblown reactions to the striker leading four recreations without one. None was more liable on that figurehead, of course, than Napolis owner, Aurelio De Laurentiis, who were of the view that Higuan needed to lose a kilo and a half in order to get back to his early season formation. Was there more to such a comment than a clumsy attempt to motivate a stellar participate? Knowing De Laurentiis, you surely would not bet against it. He has been at loggerheads with Higuan for some time over the players refusal to extend a contract which ranges to 2018, and there was a smell here of the public reviews he levelled against Ezequiel Lavezzi and Edinson Cavani before the latter are each sell off Paris Saint-Germain.

Gianluigi Buffon has not let in a Serie A destination for 836 instants. Image: Giorgio Perottino/ Reuters

Another clean sheet for Gigi Buffon, who has now disappeared 836 instants without admitting a goal in Serie A, establishing his the third-longest such streak in its own history of the Italian top flight. The only actors left to overtake are Dino Zoff, who lasted 903 hours in 1972 -7 3, and Sebastiano Rossi, who exited 929 hours for Milan in 1993 -9 4. It is no foregone conclusion that Buffon will catch them; next up for Juventus are Sassuolo, who have won three directly. The Old Lady wobbled for a spell against Atalanta on Sunday, and there was a period – before Mario Lemina gave the game beyond doubt with this excellent goal – when even the succes was searching far away from secure at 1-0.

Could Roma hitherto have a say in the claim race? An eight part spread to commanders Juventus will not be easily bridged, but Luciano Spallettis side have at least demonstrated themselves as the next challenger in line behind Napoli after blowing away Fiorentina on Friday. The Giallorossi have now won seven straight-from-the-shoulder in the conference and the tempo of Mohamed Salah and Stephan El Shaarawy exclusively examined more devastating this week with Diego Perotti drawing the fibres in a No10 role.

The relegation scrap just got a whole lot tighter, with only one point dispersing Palermo and Frosinone after the Sicilians lost to Inter and the Canarini acquired at home to Udinese. Where Palermo are without a triumph in seven coincides, Frosinone have won half of their last-place six.

Verona, though, might be finished when he was threshed 3-0 at home to Sampdoria – who are finally putting some distance( or, at the least, some more squads) between themselves and the relegation zone.

Results: Atalanta 0-2 Juventus, Bologna 0-0 Carpi, Frosinone 2-0 Udinese, Genoa 1-0 Empoli, Inter 3-1 Palermo, Napoli 3-1 Chievo, Roma 4-1 Fiorentina, Sassuolo 2-0 Milan, Torino 1-1 Lazio, Verona 0-3 Sampdoria

The post Old flames Mario Balotelli and Milan start to regret reviving the occasion | Paolo Bandini appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2s2nqb3 via IFTTT

[notesfromthepen]

I was five years old when I smoked my first cigarette. 

It took me and my best friend john a week of planing. Which is an eternity when your five. A few days in and we seriously considered just waiting until we were adults. But the plan was already in motion.

We lived in military housing for enlisted men with families in Fort Campbell Kentucky. Military brats. We stayed just a few houses from one another. Initially you might think that growing up on a military base would provide the much needed structure and discipline to otherwise deviant youths. You'd be wrong. In a way we were all children of single parent households. The patriarchs were gone all day, at the same time, creating a "Lord of the Flies" free-for-all for the hordes of adolescents that swarmed the base. Many firsts in my life happened on military bases. Where men are men and kids are heathens.

John and I were best friends, more like co-parented brothers actually. We spent most of our time at his house. He had all the cool shit, namely a Nintendo game system. Our households were very different. Both with macho, old school, fathers who believed a good ass whooping trumps a good talking to every time. But that's where the similarities ended.

My house was what you'd probably expect of a decorated military man and war hero. The air of a no nonsense authoritarian rule filled our dwelling and my psyche. However that was only when dad was there. Mom was the complete counter balance to dads energy. A punk rock chick that spent her teens partying with bands and madman like the Ramones, MC5, and Patti Smith. Mom has always been a free thinking, tough, rebellious, and completely loving woman. It was a completely odd paring but the balance of the two extremes worked well. 

Johns house was a completely different vibe. Where my house had two strong personalities that competed for control. Johns had one clear ruler and his agenda was decadence and fun. They had all the newest toys and implements of entertainment. Big TVs, calico vision, VCR's and...... A Nintendo Entertainment System!.. The N.E.S! For those of you who were born in to a world with preexisting gaming systems I cannot over state the mind blowing affect of the first Nintendo system.

Johns parents smoked like chimneys, drank competitively and had a knee high stack of playboys next to the toilet.. A fucking wonderland for a kid. I wasn't aware of the term "white trash" at the time and even of I was, if that's what they were, I would have thought of it as high praise. 

All the houses on the base were the same. Bare bones, two bedroom houses with a flat roofs and a wooden sheds towards the back. 

Much of the neighborhood debauchery took place in or around those sheds.

Its rare to be able to pin point exactly when and where you became a man. For me it was the first time a caught a glimpse of the inside of johns dads shed. Every inch was plastered with the centerfolds of adult magazines. Vixens with giant breasts, startling tan lines and even more startling bushes (it was the eighties). It might sound tame now, in the post internet world of porn hub but trust me when I tell you it was life changing. Im pretty sure that I sprouted a single pube right there on the spot.

Neither me or John were saints before our latest plan. We'd both sipped the last swigs in our dads beers before, took part in petty vandalism, had been into our fare share of fights, and we were now both veterans of perusing adult magazines, and so we decided the next logical step in our initiation into adulthood was to start smoking cigarettes. Again...We were five!

It wasn't a complex plan, however it was high risk. Since we were practically men now a lil risk was nothing to be afraid of. 

We made a list of the implements necessary to accomplish our goals. It was a short list: A lighter, two cigarettes, and that's pretty much it. We would get the supplies in stages. We decided to get the cigarettes first. They would be the least likely to be missed. If we made it through phase one unnoticed and unscathed then we would proceed to phase two operation "fire grab". Which was just the stealing of a lighter.

The heist would take place at johns house because, well, my parents didn't smoke. We staked out the area, the players, and the goods for a full day. Johns dad was a "no-go" for several reasons. one: he wasn't there during the day. Two (and far more importantly): was the real threat of physical violence. Johns mom, on the other hand, was there all day, left her cigarettes in the kitchen, and we were confident that we could out run her if shit went sideways. She would be the mark. 

The next day we would snag one cigarette from her pack, stash it,.and repeat the process the following day, as to not arouse the suspicion that two missing cigarettes might cause.

John showed up at my house right after breakfast. We walked to his place and formulated our plan of action. Since his mom was never stationary for too long we'd need a distraction. That would be johns job. Leaving the thievery to yours truly.

We approached his front door. My heart rate began to increase as we closed in on the threshold to the little square house. Upon entering, the kitchen was immediately on the left. John pointed a the table at the far end of the kitchen. He mouthed the words "right there". A soft pack of cigarettes sat under a red lighter perched atop the table. I tip toed into the kitchen as he went to run interference on our unsuspecting mark. His mom sat on the couch in the living room folding laundry in front of the TV. Between the laundry and the soap opera drama she was completely enthralled. In hind sight our "distraction" was not only completely unnecessary but it almost did us in. As I approached the table and silently lifted the lighter off the the pack of smokes, John said "hey mom whatcha doing?" 

There were two doors leading into the kitchen. One in the entryway of the house and the other, at the other opened into the living room, where johns mom sat with her back to me and the table. If she turned around she would have immediately saw me handling her pack of cigs.

Johns question startled her out of her soap induced trance. She briefly looked around. I froze with lighter in one hand a her pack of smokes in the other. My heart had never beat so fast. Just before her head swung around far enough to witness the crime in progress John picked up the remote and changed the channel. "Can we watch Space Balls?" asked my codefendant. She stopped dead in her tracks “Goddamn it John!! Go out side and play!" To this day I've yet to meet more than a handful of people more capable than a five year old John in that moment.

As quick as a magician I pulled a single cigarette from the pack, placed it back on the table and positioned the red lighter on top, exactly as I found them. 

With the contraband secured we shot out of the house like two bottle rockets. The screen door slammed behind us partially trapping the string of obscenities that followed.

Once far enough away we slowed to a walk. My heart still pounding but in a different way. 

So began my true addiction. An addiction to that special mix of adrenaline and chaos brought on by the subverting of rules. An addiction that has followed me like a shadow for my entire life.

It wasn't the first cigarette that I'd ever seen but it felt like it.I rolled it between my fingers examining its details. I looked the little brown filter with the tiny imperfections in the coloring. I noticed the horizontal lines, so thin that they were almost invisible, on the white paper of the cigarette. I stuck it under my nose like a fake mustache and inhaled the aroma. it smelled so much nicer that the ones in he ashtrays at johns house. I looked around before letting it hang from between my lips like I'd seen the neighborhood teens do at the park. John was less enamored by the spoils of our heist. He'd probably already done this foreplay to smoking a few times.

We made it to the shed of a uninhabited house on my street. I went in and stashed the cigarette on one of the two by fours in the dark wooden box. Step one was now complete.

The plan was to let another day pass before going back to snag the remaining implements of our delinquency.

The next day, our day of inaction, crept by at a snails pace. We bull shitted around trying to distract ourselves from the single cigarette waiting to be smoked in the empty shed. 

There were two parks on the base: Sunny park and Shady park. At that age things are clearly defined, either black or white. There aren't many grey areas when your five. The two parks on the base were perfect representations of this hard line. The parks gained their nicknames obviously enough; one was sunny and the other shady. But the meanings ran deeper and its taken years of perspective to fully appreciate the depth and meaning of the two parks.

Sunny park was designed by convince. The block of houses in the center of the neighborhood created a huge field in their collective backyards. In the center of this sea of green sat the makings of a playground: swing sets, monkey bars, a slide, a merry-go-round and a big dome of interconnecting metal bars that created a geometric contraption to play on or bash your shins against. Not a single tree or bush grew in the field. Every inch was bathed in unobstructed sunlight and every action visible from the rear windows of the surrounding houses. Windows constantly manned by the bored and nosey housewives of the enlisted men. 

No one under the age of twelve used Sunny park for anything other than a short cut to the other park.

Shady park, on the other hand, was designed by no one.

Shady park was tucked away in a wooded area, on the outskirts of the neighborhood, hence the name. Dirt paths leading in and out of the park cut between the towering trees. The occasional few rays of sunlight that made it through the foliage created islands of light on the park floor.

I'd walked past Shady park everyday on my way to school. From the side walk you could hear the older kids in the park skipping school. The crash of breaking bottles, foul language, and general teenage revelry was the soundtrack to my walk. Every few steps I'd catch a glimpse of the forbidden playground and its inhabitants. A mixture of fear and excitement gave goosebumps to my skin.

So in an attempt to burn through the rest of our day, while we waited for tomorrow to bring us phase two of our heist, we decided that we were ready for a romp through the darker of the two parks. After all, we were just a few days and a couple of puffs on a cigarette away from becoming men.

I remind you that this was the eighties. A decade where the, now cliche, douchebag bullies from eighties movies really existed. 

Around the same time one of my cousin Judy's "friends", complete with long ratty hair, fingerless gloves, and a single dangly cross earring, flinched at me like he was gonna punch me in the face and said "Fuck you pussy!" Again, I was five! He must have been seventeen going on forty. I was so young, small, and Asian that he had to flinch down at me.. This goon was completely serious too. A hundred percent unaware. It was so par for the course at the time that only after entering adulthood did I realize how ridiculous it was. 

Man I miss those days and that specific brand of asshole. And I only mention this to give reason for our trepidation of Shady park and the characters we were likely to meet up with.

John came over and we walked towards the park. We approached the foot path that lead into the park. A path that I'd walked past a thousand times, always knowing, in the back of my mind, that the time would come when I was meant to follow it. Today was that day. Ten steps in and we were in a different world. It was oddly quiet and noticeably darker. The thought that we'd interrupt a group truant teens knee deep in some sort of unholy communion made me queazy. John was the silent type but I knew he felt the same. 

About ten yards in, the narrow dirt path split in two, then three, then four paths, before opening up to the Shadiest of parks.

Huge sections of concrete tubes, big enough for us to walk through, littered the park at random intervals and angles. The left over artifacts of some unfinished drainage project. Each cylinder with its own custom smattering of spray painted obscenities and vulgar pictograms. Some familiar others confusing. On one tube, a giant red dick seemed to be assaulting some sort of hairy clam standing on end.

The park felt and sounded empty. 

We huddled in the first tube that we came to, the one with the clam, to get our bearings. The bottom of the tube glittered with jewels. Diamonds, emeralds, and gems of every color crunched under our feet. At the opening of the other end of the tube sat the biggest gem id ever seen. An emerald with part of a 7up logo on it. Some of the smaller shards had been there so long that their edges were dull and rounded. We picked the best ones and put them in our pockets, to build our fortunes with later.

We exited the concrete tunnel and made our way into the heart of the park. An old swing set was the center piece. Large chunks of green paint had been chipped away exposing rusted metal. The stillness and the silence made for an eerie setting. John kicked one of the swings. The chains creaked and rattled forever. It was like time stopped. Like we were un-welcomed visitors. We were technically [in] the park but something was off. We were tourists. Sightseers... Trespassers. 

We walked to the decrepit merry-go-round and sat down. It groaned under our insignificant weight. I don't remember what we said. Probably nothing. John kicked at some pebbles. The chains of the swing set eventually went silent. 

Finally, I said "let's get outta here." 

We walked home in relative silence. I knew that things would be different once we smoked those cigarettes. The forbidden part of the world would finally open up to us. We'd be adults. We'd be enlightened.

I could hardly sleep the night before the next phase of the heist. It was like Christmas morning. I woke early, poured a bowl of cereal, and sat down in front of the TV. Before I could drink the pink tinted milk from the bowl John was at the door.

"Bobby, John's here." I jumped up, tossed the bowl into the sink, and ran outside.

When I saw john he was already smiling. "You ready?" he asked. 

Now, the plan was to grab the last cigarette today and the lighter tomorrow. So I assumed he meant "was I ready for phase two?" When in fact he meant "Are you ready to do this?" 

He looked around before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a a single cigarette and a red lighter! What i did to deserve such a sneaky, conniving, grab the bull by the horns, type of best friend like John I'll never know, but I was grateful.

My palms started to sweat. Hesitation and fear fought for control. Reasons to abandon our plan suddenly flooded my mind. However it didn't take long for another kind of fear, the fear of looking like a pussy, to override my better judgement. Such is life. 

With chests out, strutting like roosters we walked to our shed of inequities. Some of the neighborhood kids were gathered in a driveway. They couldn't help but notice the confidence. Or maybe it was the cigarette that dangled from my lips. I pretended not to notice them as we neared, feigning a conversation with John. 

One of the kids, I can't remember his name, ran up and asked "John, what you guys doing? That ain't a real cigarette is it?" 

To which I smirked at him. 

"Nothing" said John and we kept walking. John flicked the lighter as we made our way down the street.

We made it the house, up the side and to the shed out back. John struggled to open the door. He had to lean with all his weight to force it open. 

I followed him into the dark and musty wooden box. I grabbed the cigarette that we'd stashed away and tried to hand it to John. His back was to me as he leaned his head out the door.

"Get outta here, we're busy!" 

"Here" I said and handed him the cigarette. As he took it I glanced out the door. The two boys we walked past were coming up the side yard. I pretended to be pissed but was secretly glad to have an audience. I mean what was the point of being an outlaw if no one was there to witness it? 

At this point the cigarettes were merely symbolic. 

"Forget them" I said.."Gimme the lighter." 

I grabbed the lighter and flicked it several times before it sprung a flame.

This was years before burn stop cigarettes and child-proof lighters that infuriate the drunk and elderly smokers of today. 

I held the lighter out and lit johns cigarette before lighting mine. 

I need to make this perfectly clear. At the time I had absolutely no idea how to inhale. The idea alone would have confused me. As far as I was concerned you just puffed on the cigarette by pulling air into your mouth. But none of it really mattered. This wasn't about smoking anymore. It was about rebellion.

We both stood there puffing away, filling the small shed with smoke almost immediately. I did my best impression of an outlaw who had done this a thousand times. But the fact that my eyes were starting to water from the smoke almost gave me away for the rookie I was. 

As I fought back the tears two more nosey kids made their way up to the shed. It was the two black girls that lived next door to me. They were sisters (I mean that in their relation not color, though I guess both could apply). I don't remember their names and any attempt to guess would probably just come off as a tad "stereotype". 

I do remember that, of the two, I liked the younger one. She was sweet and funny. Her older sister was an asshole, already jaded by the ripe old age of seven. She was mean and spiteful. I was actually glad that she was there to witness my bad-assery, maybe now she would give me the respect that I deserved. 

The entire time the onlookers said nothing. They just stood witness, looking dumbfounded. 

We finished our cigarettes, left the shed, and walked through the kids gathered around the shed. The older of my neighbors, the jaded seven yr old, said "ewwwwww" in a admonishing tone as we walked by.

John and I walked home together. The only words spoken were his":I gotta get this lighter back." I nodded and we parted ways. 

I got home and went straight to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I went to my room and sat on my bed. I sat there staring at my Hulk Hogan poster and realized that I didn't feel any different. I wasn't more mature. I wasn't more bad-ass. I wasn't an Outlaw..

Some time passed, it felt like hours but I can't be sure, when my mom opened my door a crack and said "don't go anywhere your dad wants to talk to you when he gets home." My heart sank. I knew it was a wrap. Right then and there I knew it was over. A mixture of panic, embarrassment, and fear set in.

I wasn't a tough guy. I was a scared kid afraid of an ass whipping.

It turns out that as soon as we left the shed the neighbor girl ratted me out. My dad came home, promptly threatened to hand me a sore ass, reminded me that I was anything but a tough guy compared to him, and grounded me for a month.

So there it was: my life as an outlaw had started and ended in a single afternoon.

Life has a strange way of giving you, not what you want, but only what you're ready for in that exact moment. And there's no way of cheating life. No way of speeding up the process.

And so for the time being, Shady park and my life as an outlaw would have to wait...

[notesfromthepen]

The Making Of An Outlaw

I was five years old when I smoked my first cigarette. 

It took me and my best friend john a week of planing. Which is an eternity when your five. A few days in and we seriously considered just waiting until we were adults. But the plan was already in motion.

We lived in military housing for enlisted men with families in Fort Campbell Kentucky. Military brats. We stayed just a few houses from one another. Initially you might think that growing up on a military base would provide the much needed structure and discipline to otherwise deviant youths. You'd be wrong. In a way we were all children of single parent households. The patriarchs were gone all day, at the same time, creating a "Lord of the Flies" free for all for the horde of adolescents that swarmed the base. Many firsts in my life happened on military bases. Where men are men and kids are heathens.

John and I were best friends, more like co-parented brothers actually. We spent most of our time at his house. He had all the cool shit, namely a Nintendo game system. Our households were very different. Both with macho, old school, fathers who believed a good ass whooping trumps a good talking to every time. But that's where the similarities ended.

My house was what you'd probably expect of a decorated military man and war hero. The air of a no nonsense authoritarian rule filled our dwelling and my psyche. However that was only when dad was there. Mom was the complete counter balance to dads energy. A punk rock chick that spent her teens partying with bands and madman like the Ramones, MC5, and Patti Smith. Mom has always been a free thinking, tough, rebellious, and completely loving woman. It was a completely odd paring but the balance of the two extremes worked well. 

Johns house was a completely different vibe. Where my house had two strong personalities that competed for control. Johns had one clear ruler and his agenda was decadence and fun. They had all the newest toys and implements of entertainment. Big TVs, calico vision, VCR's and...... A Nintendo Entertainment System!.. The N.E.S! For those of you who were born in to a world with preexisting gaming systems I cannot over state the mind blowing affect of the first Nintendo system.

Johns parents smoked like chimneys, drank competitively and had a knee high stack of playboys next to the toilet.. A fucking wonderland for a kid. I wasn't aware of the term "white trash" at the time and even of I was, if that's what they were, I would have thought of it as high praise. 

All the houses on the base were the same. Bare bones, two bedroom houses with a flat roofs and a wooden sheds towards the back. 

Much of the neighborhood debauchery took place in or around those sheds.

Its rare to be able to pin point exactly when and where you became a man. For me it was the first time a caught a glimpse of the inside of johns dads shed. Every inch was plastered with the centerfolds of adult magazines. Vixens with giant breasts, startling tan lines and even more startling bushes (it was the eighties). It might sound tame now, in the post internet world of porn hub but trust me when I tell you it was life changing. Im pretty sure that I sprouted a single pube right there on the spot.

Neither me or John were saints before our latest plan. We'd both sipped the last swigs in our dads beers before, took part in petty vandalism, had been into our fare share of fights, and we were now both veterans of perusing adult magazines, and so we decided the next logical step in our initiation into adulthood was to start smoking cigarettes. Again...We were five!

It wasn't a complex plan, however it was high risk. Since we were practically men now a lil risk was nothing to be afraid of. 

We made a list of the implements necessary to accomplish our goals. It was a short list: A lighter, two cigarettes, and that's pretty much it. We would get the supplies in stages. We decided to get the cigarettes first. They would be the least likely to be missed. If we made it through phase one unnoticed and unscathed then we would proceed to phase two operation "fire grab". Which was just the stealing of a lighter.

The heist would take place at johns house because, well, my parents didn't smoke. We staked out the area, the players, and the goods for a full day. Johns dad was a "no-go" for several reasons. one: he wasn't there during the day. Two (and far more importantly): was the real threat of physical violence. Johns mom, on the other hand, was there all day, left her cigarettes in the kitchen, and we were confident that we could out run her if shit went sideways. She would be the mark. 

The next day we would snag one cigarette from her pack, stash it,.and repeat the process the following day, as to not arouse the suspicion that two missing cigarettes might cause.

John showed up at my house right after breakfast. We walked to his place and formulated our plan of action. Since his mom was never stationary for too long we'd need a distraction. That would be johns job. Leaving the thievery to yours truly.

We approached his front door. My heart rate began to increase as we closed in on the threshold to the little square house. Upon entering, the kitchen was immediately on the left. John pointed a the table at the far end of the kitchen. He mouthed the words "right there". A soft pack of cigarettes sat under a red lighter perched atop the table. I tip toed into the kitchen as he went to run interference on our unsuspecting mark. His mom sat on the couch in the living room folding laundry in front of the TV. Between the laundry and the soap opera drama she was completely enthralled. In hind sight our "distraction" was not only completely unnecessary but it almost did us in. As I approached the table and silently lifted the lighter off the the pack of smokes, John said "hey mom whatcha doing?" 

There were two doors leading into the kitchen. One in the entryway of the house and the other, at the other opened into the living room, where johns mom sat with her back to me and the table. If she turned around she would have immediately saw me handling her pack of cigs.

Johns question startled her out of her soap induced trance. She briefly looked around. I froze with lighter in one hand a her pack of smokes in the other. My heart had never beat so fast. Just before her head swung around far enough to witness the crime in progress John picked up the remote and changed the channel. "Can we watch Space Balls?" asked my codefendant. She stopped dead in her tracks “Goddamn it John!! Go out side and play!" To this day I've yet to meet more than a handful of people more capable than a five year old John in that moment.

As quick as a magician I pulled a single cigarette from the pack, placed it back on the table and positioned the red lighter on top, exactly as I found them. 

With the contraband secured we shot out of the house like two bottle rockets. The screen door slammed behind us partially trapping the string of obscenities that followed.

Once far enough away we slowed to a walk. My heart still pounding but in a different way. 

So began my true addiction. An addiction to that special mix of adrenaline and chaos brought on by the subverting of rules. An addiction that has followed me like a shadow for my entire life.

It wasn't the first cigarette that I'd ever seen but it felt like it.I rolled it between my fingers examining its details. I looked the little brown filter with the tiny imperfections in the coloring. I noticed the horizontal lines, so thin that they were almost invisible, on the white paper of the cigarette. I stuck it under my nose like a fake mustache and inhaled the aroma. it smelled so much nicer that the ones in he ashtrays at johns house. I looked around before letting it hang from between my lips like I'd seen the neighborhood teens do at the park. John was less enamored by the spoils of our heist. He'd probably already done this foreplay to smoking a few times.

We made it to the shed of a uninhabited house on my street. I went in and stashed the cigarette on one of the two by fours in the dark wooden box. Step one was now complete.

The plan was to let another day pass before going back to snag the remaining implements of our delinquency.

The next day, our day of inaction, crept by at a snails pace. We bull shitted around trying to distract ourselves from the single cigarette waiting to be smoked in the empty shed. 

There were two parks on the base: Sunny park and Shady park. At that age things are clearly defined, either black or white. There aren't many grey areas when your five. The two parks on the base were perfect representations of this hard line. The parks gained their nicknames obviously enough; one was sunny and the other shady. But the meanings ran deeper and its taken years of perspective to fully appreciate the depth and meaning of the two parks.

Sunny park was designed by convince. The block of houses in the center of the neighborhood created a huge field in their collective backyards. In the center of this sea of green sat the makings of a playground: swing sets, monkey bars, a slide, a merry-go-round and a big dome of interconnecting metal bars that created a geometric contraption to play on or bash your shins against. Not a single tree or bush grew in the field. Every inch was bathed in unobstructed sunlight and every action visible from the rear windows of the surrounding houses. Windows constantly manned by the bored and nosey housewives of the enlisted men. 

No one under the age of twelve used Sunny park for anything other than a short cut to the other park.

Shady park, on the other hand, was designed by no one.

Shady park was tucked away in a wooded area, on the outskirts of the neighborhood, hence the name. Dirt paths leading in and out of the park cut between the towering trees. The occasional few rays of sunlight that made it through the foliage created islands of light on the park floor.

I'd walked past Shady park everyday on my way to school. From the side walk you could hear the older kids in the park skipping school. The crash of breaking bottles, foul language, and general teenage revelry was the soundtrack to my walk. Every few steps I'd catch a glimpse of the forbidden playground and its inhabitants. A mixture of fear and excitement gave goosebumps to my skin.

So in an attempt to burn through the rest of our day, while we waited for tomorrow to bring us phase two of our heist, we decided that we were ready for a romp through the darker of the two parks. After all, we were just a few days and a couple of puffs on a cigarette away from becoming men.

I remind you that this was the eighties. A decade where the, now cliche, douchebag bullies from eighties movies really existed. 

Around the same time one of my cousin Judy's "friends", complete with long ratty hair, fingerless gloves, and a single dangly cross earring, flinched at me like he was gonna punch me in the face and said "Fuck you pussy!" Again, I was five! He must have been seventeen going on forty. I was so young, small, and Asian that he had to flinch down at me.. This goon was completely serious too. A hundred percent unaware. It was so par for the course at the time that only after entering adulthood did I realize how ridiculous it was. 

Man I miss those days and that specific brand of asshole. And I only mention this to give reason for our trepidation of Shady park and the characters we were likely to meet up with.

John came over and we walked towards the park. We approached the foot path that lead into the park. A path that I'd walked past a thousand times, always knowing, in the back of my mind, that the time would come when I was meant to follow it. Today was that day. Ten steps in and we were in a different world. It was oddly quiet and noticeably darker. The thought that we'd interrupt a group truant teens knee deep in some sort of unholy communion made me queazy. John was the silent type but I knew he felt the same. 

About ten yards in, the narrow dirt path split in two, then three, then four paths, before opening up to the Shadiest of parks.

Huge sections of concrete tubes, big enough for us to walk through, littered the park at random intervals and angles. The left over artifacts of some unfinished drainage project. Each cylinder with its own custom smattering of spray painted obscenities and vulgar pictograms. Some familiar others confusing. On one tube, a giant red dick seemed to be assaulting some sort of hairy clam standing on end.

The park felt and sounded empty. 

We huddled in the first tube that we came to, the one with the clam, to get our bearings. The bottom of the tube glittered with jewels. Diamonds, emeralds, and gems of every color crunched under our feet. At the opening of the other end of the tube sat the biggest gem id ever seen. An emerald with part of a 7up logo on it. Some of the smaller shards had been there so long that their edges were dull and rounded. We picked the best ones and put them in our pockets, to build our fortunes with later.

We exited the concrete tunnel and made our way into the heart of the park. An old swing set was the center piece. Large chunks of green paint had been chipped away exposing rusted metal. The stillness and the silence made for an eerie setting. John kicked one of the swings. The chains creaked and rattled forever. It was like time stopped. Like we were un-welcomed visitors. We were technically [in] the park but something was off. We were tourists. Sightseers... Trespassers. 

We walked to the decrepit merry-go-round and sat down. It groaned under our insignificant weight. I don't remember what we said. Probably nothing. John kicked at some pebbles. The chains of the swing set eventually went silent. 

Finally, I said "let's get outta here." 

We walked home in relative silence. I knew that things would be different once we smoked those cigarettes. The forbidden part of the world would finally open up to us. We'd be adults. We'd be enlightened.

I could hardly sleep the night before the next phase of the heist. It was like Christmas morning. I woke early, poured a bowl of cereal, and sat down in front of the TV. Before I could drink the pink tinted milk from the bowl John was at the door.

"Bobby, John's here." I jumped up, tossed the bowl into the sink, and ran outside.

When I saw john he was already smiling. "You ready?" he asked. 

Now, the plan was to grab the last cigarette today and the lighter tomorrow. So I assumed he meant "was I ready for phase two?" When in fact he meant "Are you ready to do this?" 

He looked around before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a a single cigarette and a red lighter! What i did to deserve such a sneaky, conniving, grab the bull by the horns, type of best friend like John I'll never know, but I was grateful.

My palms started to sweat. Hesitation and fear fought for control. Reasons to abandon our plan suddenly flooded my mind. However it didn't take long for another kind of fear, the fear of looking like a pussy, to override my better judgement. Such is life. 

With chests out, strutting like roosters we walked to our shed of inequities. Some of the neighborhood kids were gathered in a driveway. They couldn't help but notice the confidence. Or maybe it was the cigarette that dangled from my lips. I pretended not to notice them as we neared, feigning a conversation with John. 

One of the kids, I can't remember his name, ran up and asked "John, what you guys doing? That ain't a real cigarette is it?" 

To which I smirked at him. 

"Nothing" said John and we kept walking. John flicked the lighter as we made our way down the street.

We made it the house, up the side and to the shed out back. John struggled to open the door. He had to lean with all his weight to force it open. 

I followed him into the dark and musty wooden box. I grabbed the cigarette that we'd stashed away and tried to hand it to John. His back was to me as he leaned his head out the door.

"Get outta here, we're busy!" 

"Here" I said and handed him the cigarette. As he took it I glanced out the door. The two boys we walked past were coming up the side yard. I pretended to be pissed but was secretly glad to have an audience. I mean what was the point of being an outlaw if no one was there to witness it? 

At this point the cigarettes were merely symbolic. 

"Forget them" I said.."Gimme the lighter." 

I grabbed the lighter and flicked it several times before it sprung a flame.

This was years before burn stop cigarettes and child-proof lighters that infuriate the drunk and elderly smokers of today. 

I held the lighter out and lit johns cigarette before lighting mine. 

I need to make this perfectly clear. At the time I had absolutely no idea how to inhale. The idea alone would have confused me. As far as I was concerned you just puffed on the cigarette by pulling air into your mouth. But none of it really mattered. This wasn't about smoking anymore. It was about rebellion.

We both stood there puffing away, filling the small shed with smoke almost immediately. I did my best impression of an outlaw who had done this a thousand times. But the fact that my eyes were starting to water from the smoke almost gave me away for the rookie I was. 

As I fought back the tears two more nosey kids made their way up to the shed. It was the two black girls that lived next door to me. They were sisters (I mean that in their relation not color, though I guess both could apply). I don't remember their names and any attempt to guess would probably just come off as a tad "stereotype". 

I do remember that, of the two, I liked the younger one. She was sweet and funny. Her older sister was an asshole, already jaded by the ripe old age of seven. She was mean and spiteful. I was actually glad that she was there to witness my bad-assery, maybe now she would give me the respect that I deserved. 

The entire time the onlookers said nothing. They just stood witness, looking dumbfounded. 

We finished our cigarettes, left the shed, and walked through the kids gathered around the shed. The older of my neighbors, the jaded seven yr old, said "ewwwwww" in a admonishing tone as we walked by.

John and I walked home together. The only words spoken were his":I gotta get this lighter back." I nodded and we parted ways. 

I got home and went straight to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I went to my room and sat on my bed. I sat there staring at my Hulk Hogan poster and realized that I didn't feel any different. I wasn't more mature. I wasn't more bad-ass. I wasn't an Outlaw..

Some time passed, it felt like hours but I can't be sure, when my mom opened my door a crack and said "don't go anywhere your dad wants to talk to you when he gets home." My heart sank. I knew it was a wrap. Right then and there I knew it was over. A mixture of panic, embarrassment, and fear set in.

I wasn't a tough guy. I was a scared kid afraid of an ass whipping.

It turns out that as soon as we left the shed the neighbor girl ratted me out. My dad came home, promptly threatened to hand me a sore ass, reminded me that I was anything but a tough guy compared to him, and grounded me for a month.

So there it was: my life as an outlaw had started and ended in a single afternoon.

Life has a strange way of giving you, not what you want, but only what you're ready for in that exact moment. And there's no way of cheating life. No way of speeding up the process.

And so for the time being, Shady park and my life as an outlaw would have to wait...

[apsbicepstraining]

Old flames Mario Balotelli and Milan start to regret reviving the occasion | Paolo Bandini

Injury may have impeded Mario Balotellis return to Milan, but his attitude on the tar – rather than off it – has led to more the issue of his wasted talent

He is to say situations would be different. He told us he had changed his courses. Mario Balotelli told us all the words he thought we might want to hear as he rejoined Milanon loan this summer. Ive learned from my misunderstandings, he did. Ill grant everything. At one point, he even informed Gazzetta dello Sport that: I used to be a boy named Mario, but now Im Mario the man.

If he clanged like a spurned love trying to win back a lost spouses acceptance, then perhaps thats exactly what he was. Balotelli had adored Milan since he was a child, and was not the first to frame the relations between the two countries in romantic expressions. Adriano Galliani announced the strikers imminent return last-place August by telling reporters: Some affections never end.

The Rossoneris chief executive is notorious for his willingness to arouse old-time liaisons. Such players as Andriy Shevchenko, Ruud Gullit, Kak and Roberto Donadoni have varied the golf-club under his stewardship, only to proceed afterwards in their careers. None had already been recaptured anything like their best organize during their second stints with the team.

So why fus with Balotelli? He had never sparkled as brightly as the aforementioned wizards in the first instance. His ten-strike charge for Milan was robust with 26 goals tallied in 43 tournament images and hitherto he had faded following a bright initial six-month trance. It was Balotelli who salvaged a third-place finish for Milan after joining in January 2013, but he too who obtained 10 yellow placards and one red-faced while cutting a tetchy and isolated illustration during the following campaign.

Since then, he had weathered a dreadful time at Liverpool tallying only a single Premier League goal and falling behind Rickie Lambert in the pecking order. Milan fans were not exactly stirring for his recall. In information, there used to be whistlings at San Siro when Balotellis name was announced amongst the equivalents for the home opener against Empoli.

But there was some technique to Gallianis madness. Balotelli, unlike those previous high-profile returnees, was still in his mid-2 0s. Besides, this was only a loan with no cost fixed. In gist, Milan were going a risk-free experiment of a participate they had sold for 16 m a year earlier, and whose better seasons could still lie ahead.

The golf-clubs new administrator, additionally, had an existing relationship with Balotelli. Sinisa Mihajlovic had been an deputy at Inter back when the player was emerging from the Nerazzurris youth team. A private find was arranged between them before Milan signed off on the deal.

You will need to be the first to arrive and the last to leave, Mihajlovic was reported to have told Balotelli. You must ever give your all, otherwise I will make sure you find your suitcases waiting outside the gates of Milanello.

Balotelli seemed to have taken that word on board. He put in a swashbuckling cameo off the bench during a derby demolish to Inter before commemorating his first start with a fine free-kick destination to open the scoring in a 3-2 win over Udinese.

Just when his stellar was in the dominance, though, he was sidelined by a athletics hernia. The harm, which turned out to require an operation, took Balotelli out of action from September right through to mid-January.

When Balotelli reverted, he discovered that he was no longer needed. After a difficult firstly half to the season, Mihajlovic has at last received an attacking partnership that worked, MBaye Niangs range and readiness to float out and serve intersections from either side reaching him the perfect foil to Carlos Baccas penalty-box prowling.

Milan went nine recreations without defeat, surging back into the hasten for European regions. Where formerly Balotelli asked Why ever me? now he was instead turn left meditate Why never me? He averaged fewer than 13 times on the pitch in his first eight league games back from trauma, and failed to record a single aim or assist.

Mihajlovic was unsympathetic to propositions that Balotelli necessitated more substantial opportunities to make an impact. The number of minutes you have on the pitching do not thing, said the manager. You can be decisive even in five. He needs to show me that he has feeling and desire.

That final feeling was its most important one. Innovated for the succumbing instants of a 2-1 win over Genoa, Balotelli had been asked to lead the defensive endeavor from the figurehead but never broke out of a move. Merely a late intervention from Milans athletic manager, Antonio Bovenzi, deterred a frenzied Mihajlovic from storming over to make an example of his striker at full-time.

Sinisa Mihajlovic alleged Mario Balotelli is not yet amply fit. Photograph: Elisabetta Baracchi/ EPA

And yet, after Niang marred his ankle in a car accident last week, it was Balotelli to whom the manager grew. He may or may not be the most obvious selection. Jrmy Mnez, Milans preceding scorer in 2014 -1 5, has invested most of this season recuperating from a hernia of his own but started alongside Balotelli in the Coppa Italia semi-final second leg against Alessandria on Tuesday. The Frenchman touched a pair of goals during what became a 5-0 rout.

Balotelli grabbed one just as he had be done in order to the reverse fixture but his rendition again shortage dynamism or verve. Various newspapers determined him as the most difficult participate in a red-and-black shirt.

Mihajlovic persisted, selecting Balotelli to start alongside Bacca in Sundays match away to Sassuolo. Unlike third-tier Alessandria, these rivals were strong enough to give Milan real concerns. Just six points behind the Rossoneri at kick-off, Sassuolo had won both home editions of this fixture since their promotion to the top-flight in 2013.

They would soon make it three out of three. After taking the extend through a beautifully taken destination from Alfred Duncan in the 27 th instant, Sassuolo never looked at risk of going pegged back. Nicola Sansone shaped the score 2-0 under contentious situations late on, his team-mate Davide Biondini fortunate not to have been penalise for a pollute on Andrea Bertolacci in the buildup, but Milans legitimate grievances over that incident could not mask their own drawbacks in attack.

Balotelli and Bacca never appeared in sync as partnership agreements, the former is inadequate to fill wide cavities and give junctions as Niang might. If the lack of cohesion was comprehensible, given the two players scant ordeal of playing together, then Balotellis indifferent body language and failure to impose himself on his own terms were harder to justify. He did not touch the dance once in Sassuolos penalty country, and was subbed off in the 55 th minute.

His replacement, Mnez, did not fare much better. Mihajlovic claimed subsequentlies that neither player is hitherto at full fitness, but that disagreement is becoming harder to immerse. Almost two months have gone by since Balotelli moved his first post-injury illusion, against Fiorentina. This was the first tournament pair he had started since then, and likewise the first one Milan have lost.

We cannot accuse his conflicts on extra-curricular distractions. With the exception of one crude gesture made towards Napoli supporters who collected outside Milans hotel to abuse him last-place month, Balotellis behaviour has been beyond reproach. He has saved his head down, bided out of the gossip line and adhered diligently to riders Milan be incorporated in his contract governing conduct, social media use and even personal grooming.

But the cold reality is that he has achieved little on the tone so far to reassure Milan that this relationship was worth revitalizing. He had recently 10 competitions left in which to do so, and is unlikely to play in all of those unless his actions sharpen up swiftly.

Balotelli may experience annoyed by the timing of his hernia, which cost him force at a time when the picture was beginning to look a little more positive. He would not be the first lonely soul, though, has found that the success or flop of any love affair can come down to a matter of timing.

Talking points

No change at the top, with Juventus maintaining their three-point produce over Napoli after both teams won. The Partenopei will be happy to have Gonzalo Higuan back among the goals after recent overblown reactions to the striker leading four recreations without one. None was more liable on that figurehead, of course, than Napolis owner, Aurelio De Laurentiis, who were of the view that Higuan needed to lose a kilo and a half in order to get back to his early season formation. Was there more to such a comment than a clumsy attempt to motivate a stellar participate? Knowing De Laurentiis, you surely would not bet against it. He has been at loggerheads with Higuan for some time over the players refusal to extend a contract which ranges to 2018, and there was a smell here of the public reviews he levelled against Ezequiel Lavezzi and Edinson Cavani before the latter are each sell off Paris Saint-Germain.

Gianluigi Buffon has not let in a Serie A destination for 836 instants. Image: Giorgio Perottino/ Reuters

Another clean sheet for Gigi Buffon, who has now disappeared 836 instants without admitting a goal in Serie A, establishing his the third-longest such streak in its own history of the Italian top flight. The only actors left to overtake are Dino Zoff, who lasted 903 hours in 1972 -7 3, and Sebastiano Rossi, who exited 929 hours for Milan in 1993 -9 4. It is no foregone conclusion that Buffon will catch them; next up for Juventus are Sassuolo, who have won three directly. The Old Lady wobbled for a spell against Atalanta on Sunday, and there was a period – before Mario Lemina gave the game beyond doubt with this excellent goal – when even the succes was searching far away from secure at 1-0.

Could Roma hitherto have a say in the claim race? An eight part spread to commanders Juventus will not be easily bridged, but Luciano Spallettis side have at least demonstrated themselves as the next challenger in line behind Napoli after blowing away Fiorentina on Friday. The Giallorossi have now won seven straight-from-the-shoulder in the conference and the tempo of Mohamed Salah and Stephan El Shaarawy exclusively examined more devastating this week with Diego Perotti drawing the fibres in a No10 role.

The relegation scrap just got a whole lot tighter, with only one point dispersing Palermo and Frosinone after the Sicilians lost to Inter and the Canarini acquired at home to Udinese. Where Palermo are without a triumph in seven coincides, Frosinone have won half of their last-place six.

Verona, though, might be finished when he was threshed 3-0 at home to Sampdoria – who are finally putting some distance( or, at the least, some more squads) between themselves and the relegation zone.

Results: Atalanta 0-2 Juventus, Bologna 0-0 Carpi, Frosinone 2-0 Udinese, Genoa 1-0 Empoli, Inter 3-1 Palermo, Napoli 3-1 Chievo, Roma 4-1 Fiorentina, Sassuolo 2-0 Milan, Torino 1-1 Lazio, Verona 0-3 Sampdoria

The post Old flames Mario Balotelli and Milan start to regret reviving the occasion | Paolo Bandini appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2s2nqb3 via IFTTT

[apsbicepstraining]

Old flames Mario Balotelli and Milan start to regret reviving the occasion | Paolo Bandini

Injury may have impeded Mario Balotellis return to Milan, but his attitude on the tar – rather than off it – has led to more the issue of his wasted talent

He is to say situations would be different. He told us he had changed his courses. Mario Balotelli told us all the words he thought we might want to hear as he rejoined Milanon loan this summer. Ive learned from my misunderstandings, he did. Ill grant everything. At one point, he even informed Gazzetta dello Sport that: I used to be a boy named Mario, but now Im Mario the man.

If he clanged like a spurned love trying to win back a lost spouses acceptance, then perhaps thats exactly what he was. Balotelli had adored Milan since he was a child, and was not the first to frame the relations between the two countries in romantic expressions. Adriano Galliani announced the strikers imminent return last-place August by telling reporters: Some affections never end.

The Rossoneris chief executive is notorious for his willingness to arouse old-time liaisons. Such players as Andriy Shevchenko, Ruud Gullit, Kak and Roberto Donadoni have varied the golf-club under his stewardship, only to proceed afterwards in their careers. None had already been recaptured anything like their best organize during their second stints with the team.

So why fus with Balotelli? He had never sparkled as brightly as the aforementioned wizards in the first instance. His ten-strike charge for Milan was robust with 26 goals tallied in 43 tournament images and hitherto he had faded following a bright initial six-month trance. It was Balotelli who salvaged a third-place finish for Milan after joining in January 2013, but he too who obtained 10 yellow placards and one red-faced while cutting a tetchy and isolated illustration during the following campaign.

Since then, he had weathered a dreadful time at Liverpool tallying only a single Premier League goal and falling behind Rickie Lambert in the pecking order. Milan fans were not exactly stirring for his recall. In information, there used to be whistlings at San Siro when Balotellis name was announced amongst the equivalents for the home opener against Empoli.

But there was some technique to Gallianis madness. Balotelli, unlike those previous high-profile returnees, was still in his mid-2 0s. Besides, this was only a loan with no cost fixed. In gist, Milan were going a risk-free experiment of a participate they had sold for 16 m a year earlier, and whose better seasons could still lie ahead.

The golf-clubs new administrator, additionally, had an existing relationship with Balotelli. Sinisa Mihajlovic had been an deputy at Inter back when the player was emerging from the Nerazzurris youth team. A private find was arranged between them before Milan signed off on the deal.

You will need to be the first to arrive and the last to leave, Mihajlovic was reported to have told Balotelli. You must ever give your all, otherwise I will make sure you find your suitcases waiting outside the gates of Milanello.

Balotelli seemed to have taken that word on board. He put in a swashbuckling cameo off the bench during a derby demolish to Inter before commemorating his first start with a fine free-kick destination to open the scoring in a 3-2 win over Udinese.

Just when his stellar was in the dominance, though, he was sidelined by a athletics hernia. The harm, which turned out to require an operation, took Balotelli out of action from September right through to mid-January.

When Balotelli reverted, he discovered that he was no longer needed. After a difficult firstly half to the season, Mihajlovic has at last received an attacking partnership that worked, MBaye Niangs range and readiness to float out and serve intersections from either side reaching him the perfect foil to Carlos Baccas penalty-box prowling.

Milan went nine recreations without defeat, surging back into the hasten for European regions. Where formerly Balotelli asked Why ever me? now he was instead turn left meditate Why never me? He averaged fewer than 13 times on the pitch in his first eight league games back from trauma, and failed to record a single aim or assist.

Mihajlovic was unsympathetic to propositions that Balotelli necessitated more substantial opportunities to make an impact. The number of minutes you have on the pitching do not thing, said the manager. You can be decisive even in five. He needs to show me that he has feeling and desire.

That final feeling was its most important one. Innovated for the succumbing instants of a 2-1 win over Genoa, Balotelli had been asked to lead the defensive endeavor from the figurehead but never broke out of a move. Merely a late intervention from Milans athletic manager, Antonio Bovenzi, deterred a frenzied Mihajlovic from storming over to make an example of his striker at full-time.

Sinisa Mihajlovic alleged Mario Balotelli is not yet amply fit. Photograph: Elisabetta Baracchi/ EPA

And yet, after Niang marred his ankle in a car accident last week, it was Balotelli to whom the manager grew. He may or may not be the most obvious selection. Jrmy Mnez, Milans preceding scorer in 2014 -1 5, has invested most of this season recuperating from a hernia of his own but started alongside Balotelli in the Coppa Italia semi-final second leg against Alessandria on Tuesday. The Frenchman touched a pair of goals during what became a 5-0 rout.

Balotelli grabbed one just as he had be done in order to the reverse fixture but his rendition again shortage dynamism or verve. Various newspapers determined him as the most difficult participate in a red-and-black shirt.

Mihajlovic persisted, selecting Balotelli to start alongside Bacca in Sundays match away to Sassuolo. Unlike third-tier Alessandria, these rivals were strong enough to give Milan real concerns. Just six points behind the Rossoneri at kick-off, Sassuolo had won both home editions of this fixture since their promotion to the top-flight in 2013.

They would soon make it three out of three. After taking the extend through a beautifully taken destination from Alfred Duncan in the 27 th instant, Sassuolo never looked at risk of going pegged back. Nicola Sansone shaped the score 2-0 under contentious situations late on, his team-mate Davide Biondini fortunate not to have been penalise for a pollute on Andrea Bertolacci in the buildup, but Milans legitimate grievances over that incident could not mask their own drawbacks in attack.

Balotelli and Bacca never appeared in sync as partnership agreements, the former is inadequate to fill wide cavities and give junctions as Niang might. If the lack of cohesion was comprehensible, given the two players scant ordeal of playing together, then Balotellis indifferent body language and failure to impose himself on his own terms were harder to justify. He did not touch the dance once in Sassuolos penalty country, and was subbed off in the 55 th minute.

His replacement, Mnez, did not fare much better. Mihajlovic claimed subsequentlies that neither player is hitherto at full fitness, but that disagreement is becoming harder to immerse. Almost two months have gone by since Balotelli moved his first post-injury illusion, against Fiorentina. This was the first tournament pair he had started since then, and likewise the first one Milan have lost.

We cannot accuse his conflicts on extra-curricular distractions. With the exception of one crude gesture made towards Napoli supporters who collected outside Milans hotel to abuse him last-place month, Balotellis behaviour has been beyond reproach. He has saved his head down, bided out of the gossip line and adhered diligently to riders Milan be incorporated in his contract governing conduct, social media use and even personal grooming.

But the cold reality is that he has achieved little on the tone so far to reassure Milan that this relationship was worth revitalizing. He had recently 10 competitions left in which to do so, and is unlikely to play in all of those unless his actions sharpen up swiftly.

Balotelli may experience annoyed by the timing of his hernia, which cost him force at a time when the picture was beginning to look a little more positive. He would not be the first lonely soul, though, has found that the success or flop of any love affair can come down to a matter of timing.

Talking points

No change at the top, with Juventus maintaining their three-point produce over Napoli after both teams won. The Partenopei will be happy to have Gonzalo Higuan back among the goals after recent overblown reactions to the striker leading four recreations without one. None was more liable on that figurehead, of course, than Napolis owner, Aurelio De Laurentiis, who were of the view that Higuan needed to lose a kilo and a half in order to get back to his early season formation. Was there more to such a comment than a clumsy attempt to motivate a stellar participate? Knowing De Laurentiis, you surely would not bet against it. He has been at loggerheads with Higuan for some time over the players refusal to extend a contract which ranges to 2018, and there was a smell here of the public reviews he levelled against Ezequiel Lavezzi and Edinson Cavani before the latter are each sell off Paris Saint-Germain.

Gianluigi Buffon has not let in a Serie A destination for 836 instants. Image: Giorgio Perottino/ Reuters

Another clean sheet for Gigi Buffon, who has now disappeared 836 instants without admitting a goal in Serie A, establishing his the third-longest such streak in its own history of the Italian top flight. The only actors left to overtake are Dino Zoff, who lasted 903 hours in 1972 -7 3, and Sebastiano Rossi, who exited 929 hours for Milan in 1993 -9 4. It is no foregone conclusion that Buffon will catch them; next up for Juventus are Sassuolo, who have won three directly. The Old Lady wobbled for a spell against Atalanta on Sunday, and there was a period – before Mario Lemina gave the game beyond doubt with this excellent goal – when even the succes was searching far away from secure at 1-0.

Could Roma hitherto have a say in the claim race? An eight part spread to commanders Juventus will not be easily bridged, but Luciano Spallettis side have at least demonstrated themselves as the next challenger in line behind Napoli after blowing away Fiorentina on Friday. The Giallorossi have now won seven straight-from-the-shoulder in the conference and the tempo of Mohamed Salah and Stephan El Shaarawy exclusively examined more devastating this week with Diego Perotti drawing the fibres in a No10 role.

The relegation scrap just got a whole lot tighter, with only one point dispersing Palermo and Frosinone after the Sicilians lost to Inter and the Canarini acquired at home to Udinese. Where Palermo are without a triumph in seven coincides, Frosinone have won half of their last-place six.

Verona, though, might be finished when he was threshed 3-0 at home to Sampdoria – who are finally putting some distance( or, at the least, some more squads) between themselves and the relegation zone.

Results: Atalanta 0-2 Juventus, Bologna 0-0 Carpi, Frosinone 2-0 Udinese, Genoa 1-0 Empoli, Inter 3-1 Palermo, Napoli 3-1 Chievo, Roma 4-1 Fiorentina, Sassuolo 2-0 Milan, Torino 1-1 Lazio, Verona 0-3 Sampdoria

The post Old flames Mario Balotelli and Milan start to regret reviving the occasion | Paolo Bandini appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2s2nqb3 via IFTTT