#operation leyenda

[our-future-is-up-to-us-2]

I'll Think Of You

Fic number 3! And it's actually a Narcos fic @narcosfandomdiscord

Have fun with our favourite guy, aka "some guy", aka "my guy", aka "Walt Breslin" >:D

Prompt #25, Book Of Reciprocity: "Fine, I'll do it myself."

Word Count: 1.3K

Relationships: Mimi/Pablo Acosta, Walt Breslin & Pablo Acosta

Warnings: Mentioned character death, mentioned drug use (as per canon)

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

Fuck it . 

It’s a thought that Walt Breslin thinks on a daily basis. 

With Operation Leyenda well and truly over, Walt and his crew had to switch tactics, not without people like Ed Heath towering over them. 

Better yet, fucking asshole Calderoni lurks, with his helpful information at one point, and heavy insults at others. 

This team of theirs, a real ragtag bunch, can only do so much. 

Breslin inquires, one day, if his team has the strength to go on. He gives them all permission to leave: Some have better jobs than this to pursue, others are husbands, and fathers of little boys and girls. 

He gives them an exit route, a free pass outta town. 

Determination rouses inside him when none of them refuse. 

They’ll work, side by side, till the break of dawn, till the end of the day– If it means avenging Kiki Camarena, if it means bringing justice to his name! 

That’s all that matters. 

He’ll defy anyone that stands in his way. Well, as much as he can do so. 

And there comes a point where he’s the one making negotiations, compromises with a side that should be wrong. In all truth, the people he’s speaking to… They’re saner than he expected, especially for their profession. 

Before he leaves to meet them, he tells his team, “This one, I’m doing by myself.” 

He says it again, in a different way, when they don’t get the message. 

“Guys, look, I get it. I’m the leader here. But, damn that! I can only take you so far… You’re angry about it, yes, but let me go. I’ve got the information, the equipment, the leads– Now you’re angry at me. Got it. Fine, I’ll do it myself! You guys stick around, do what you can with what you know, and occupy the ground over here.” 

Because this mission is a suicide mission, basically. 

The rest of the special agents can know he’s out there, Walt Breslin’s on the case, he’s doing something , some solo mission. 

As he drives to Ojinaga, a heaviness settles in his gut. He is both free and chained, maddened and rational. 

His heart flutters when he spots a girl, tall, blonde and beautiful, standing around a house. She points upwards, and that’s when Walt is taken off-guard. 

Pablo Acosta, drug lord, cartel king, working on a roof. 

Fuck it , He thinks, once again, Whatever it takes to get him on-side. 

 

***

Pablo asks him to bring up a toolbox, and Walt Breslin can only oblige. 

They start talking about life, about change and simple things.  

There comes a point where Acosta pauses and cracks the toolbox open. He shuffles about, as though planning which tool to grab, when, in fact, there are no tools whatsoever. Just beer, bottles and bottles of it. 

It’s the American’s sign that he can relax, fortunately enough. 

“Do you drink?” He asks, a bottle outstretched in one hand. 

“Fuck, yeah, I do,” Walt replies, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, “As much as I can handle.” 

They clink bottles in acknowledgement and take long, slow sips. They relish the refreshing taste in the dry heat, the bitterness that sinks into their throats. 

“Hey, look, I can get you immunity, protection,” The DEA agent offers, “Whatever you need. As long as you cross that border with me, and tell me everything you know about Felix. Felix Gallardo. ” He clarifies, “I’m lookin’ to take him down.” 

“Why’s that? Who’s Felix to you?” 

Walt takes a swig of his beer and sighs, his eyes fixed on Acosta’s, “He killed a federal agent. Camarena, his name was. He was diligent, so I’ve heard, and he didn’t deserve what he got. So… This is to avenge him, I guess.” 

“So you’ve heard?” The other smiles, tilting his hat, “So you guess? Did you ever know him, Camarena, the agent that died?” 

As a DEA agent, he feels like he should’ve, but they weren’t in the same place, the same sector. Kiki was working for longer hours, harder than he ever could’ve… But he didn’t know the man. Not personally. He never got the time, had the connections, to find out who he really was, if he had a family, what he liked in the world… 

Pablo Acosta seems to appreciate the simple things. And if Pablo Acosta had met Kiki Camarena, maybe, pushing all the drugs and crime aside, they would have got along splendidly.

All Walt can do is shake his head, rather sadly. 

“You didn’t even know him…” Acosta tuts, as though to place blame on Walt. “And I get it, comrades, partners… You trust people who work the same way as you. I can’t do that anymore. All I can trust is Mimi,” He gestures to the girl with fondness, “Or, maybe you.” 

“You should trust me,” The DEA agent huffs, crossing his arms, “I’m trying to help you, here… As long as you help me back.” 

“I don’t know where I fit in anymore,” He segues, “There’s… A different feeling here, with the drug now, cocaine, the Colombians, fucking politicians… Everything is crazy. So, I might just settle down.” 

“Settle down across the border.” He pleads, “Help me out here.” 

Acosta stands up, drinks some beer, wanders around the roof aimlessly. Even while Breslin is angry, a part of him worries about the guy crashing and falling. 

He exhales and turns back to face the American, glad to occupy the higher ground. “I can’t help you out without knowing who you are. Don’t start… Listing bullshit things. What are you really doing here? That agent is long gone.” 

Fuck. Walt thinks, cracking his knuckles just to hear the sound. 

The thought is not fuck it , as it should normally be, but instead, total despair. A rock bottom. A weird type of guilt and defeat and admission that he absolutely hates! 

And to share it with a former drug lord? Dear god, did things really have to come to this? 

I could lie. He muses, staring at the surface below him, pondering, I could lie and cheat and steal to get him to trust me. It’s not beyond the cartels, and it’s not beyond me, is it?  

‘Don’t start listing bullshit things.’ 

Acosta seems like the type of guy to have a lie detector built into his body. 

So, Walt looks at him, squints, thanks to the sunlight, and goes for broke. 

“Three years ago, I was at home,” He begins, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “And I was working a shift, everything’s cruisy. That’s when I get a call, for a one-eighteen, a gang-related shooting. But if it was located in the town over, why should I be called?!” 

Acosta just shrugs: A simple signal. He doesn’t know the story, so Breslin must tell it. 

“If I was called, I had to go… And I knew from that point forward that something was wrong. My brother was involved. Not just that,” A wobble emerges in his voice, “ My brother had died. Three shots to the chest, with an eight-ball of cocaine by his side.” 

Walt wipes a hand at his face. He’s vulnerable, he’s scared, and he’s not about to start crying in front of Pablo Acosta. 

He finishes his tale with his voice at a mere whisper, “So… Yeah. That’s why I’m here. ” 

When the drug lord sits down and lets out a slow exhale, he knows. The story, the truth, the emotions… They’ve all hit in just the right places. 

And Walt Breslin can be proud of that. Proud for telling the truth, proud for negotiating in a way that doesn’t involve trickery… 

Because Pablo Acosta reveals, just minutes before the DEA agent climbs down to the ground, that his brother was a junkie too. 

[hausofmamadas]

TO THE SMASH N GRAB CREW | RIP to the homies and this Cece x Kenny meet cute

⁂

Pairing: Cecelia “Cece” Garza x Kenny and The Smash-And-Grab Crew gif dump

For @narcosfandomdiscord NarcOctober - Day 16

Prompt: Day of Surprises - create a fanwork that focuses on dreams, literal or metaphorical

Okay so, you guys, I have no idea if this even works for the prompt dreams, bc it’s not really a dream one of the characters is having but rather, a dream of mine, and specifically a dream of whatever this was or could’ve been???? That we were categorically deprived of thanks to the Narcos’ writers’ tendency to just drop narrative grenades lil hints of things and then never pick them back up again.

So idk if yall remember that one time Operation Leyenda actually didn’t entirely fuck some shit up but there was One Time n I’m lowkey convinced it was thanks to the involvement of some estrogen no one will convince me that GOAT Secretary Susie wasn’t the strength of Jaime and Kiki’s operation, mmkay in the form of this baddie, named Cece aka Danilo’s way-too-foxy cousin.

What exactly did this bonafide mothafucking G short for goddess do that made the mission so successful? Idk, maybe just being the sassiest, most could-not-be-fucking-bothered, beyond not-having-any-of-your-shit to political scumbag and all around general skidmark, Ruben Zuno Árce okay we don’t even have time to get into how legitimately want to light this man on fire whilst painting💅🏽her💅🏽fucking💅🏽nails💅🏽 I MEANSJSHWH it truly doesn’t get better than this

I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE SATISFIED WATCHING TBIS FUCKINFSKWJHW W SHOW except that one time Barrón broke my brain by spending the whole time being some random and then very sudddnly stealing the whole gotdamn show out of nowhere in ten mins but shhhhhhsjshshs we’re not talking about that right now like they fucking did it. They got this bitch on US soil, homie was shitting in his skivvies right there on the runway also ngl I’m convinced that Walt dressing respectably in that torturously sexy red shirt was another crucial key to the success of this plan but it was mostly Cece

Okay okay okay so then after the plan goes down like gang busters, they all meet up for lunch and we get this random little exchange between enemies-to-lovers Danilo and Kenny before Kenny cried weeweewee all the way back home to the US bc he could not handle big swinging dick Calderoni and like tbh, fair where Danilo makes a point to introduce Kenny to his cousin, The Real MVP Cece, who, like the rest of the women on this show is infuriatingly hot and stunning bc they cannot for just one moment pipe down with that shit

Almost as though he’s like been, on the low, talking to Cece about Kenny and promised to introduce them as like!???????? A blind date or somethinggghdhe like some kind of setup!??????

And it’s not like Danilo does this and Kenny’s like uhhhhhh, ‘scuse me, tf? Kenny’s literally justlikesjejsjwjsusuebehsh like, okay check this shit, look at Kenny’s fucjinfjdjsd face in that gif, like if he were wearing a suit or a tux, mans would be straightening his little bow tie, all checking himself in the mirror, picking at his teeth, breathing into the palm of his hand, asking bestie Daryl, heygorl, be honest, does this silk cravat make my neck look fat? To which Daryl is like, sorry, what the actual fuck is a silk cravat? Also idk when this became Victorian England where ppl wear silk cravats and it kinda seems like it’s setting that shit up to go somewhere except all we get is what?

A BIG. FAT. NOTHING. BURGERRRRRJDJDJHE

We literally NEVER FUCKING SEE Cece again and Kenny cries weeweewee all the way home in like the next episode, and the rest of the team gets mowed down on another airport tarmac, except sweet bby angels Sal

And Daryl and Walt but as much as I love him, he’s far too much of a glutton for punishment to be considered a sweet bby angel

I mean if blue balls existed, this show would be The Fucking King Kahuna of Blue Ballers. Why??????? I MEAN LOOK AT TBJS WOMANNNNNNNNNN OKAY????????

And as if we weren’t suffering from our blue balls enough already, the show literally pushes us to the ground and pummels us in the metaphorical dick with titanium baseball bats yes more than one by giving us this👇🏽👇🏽👇🏽👇🏽one and only moment of joy, this👇🏽👇🏽👇🏽 👇🏽 one single, solitary victory

…….

…………….

………………………..

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then they went ahead and straight-up just Game-of-Thrones-Red-Wedding massacred like seventy five percent of the motherfucking cast by like episode 9

Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoool. Fine.

═

For the giiiiiiiifs: @narcosfandomdiscord @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc @narcolini @artemiseamoon

[ashlingnarcos]

one thing about narcos mexico is that i'll really never get over operation leyenda and the way many of the guys had their own lil personalities and then the writers fuckign killed them

[karaokulta]

🚀🕹️ **Desbloqueando Niveles: Marketing y Branding en la Industria del Videojuego** 🕹️🚀 ¿Listos, gamers y marketers del mundo? Ha llegado el momento de subir de nivel y hablar de dos power-ups que pueden llevar un juego del anonimato a la lista de best sellers: el Marketing y el Branding. 🏆 • **La Saga del Storytelling**: Todo juego inicia con una historia, pero, ¿cómo transformamos eso en una marca que cause furor? El storytelling es más que el lore del juego, es cómo presentas esa historia al mundo. No basta con ser un héroe, hay que contar la leyenda. 🐉✨ • **Power-Up Visual**: La identidad visual de un videojuego es como la armadura en el RPG más épico: debe ser reconocible, única, y por supuesto, ¡estilosa! ¿Qué colores, tipografías y diseños artísticos marcarán la diferencia para que tu juego sea fácilmente identificable en un mar de opciones? 🎨👀 • **Hazlo Viral, Hazlo Meme**: En la era digital, si tu juego se convierte en meme, ¡vas ganando! Así que, ¿por qué no integrar elementos meme-generadores desde la concepción del branding? ¡Es hora de contagiar a Internet con tu creatividad! 😂🌐 • **La Fidelidad del Gamer**: Los gamers son leales, cuando aman un juego, se tatúan el logo, compran el merch, y defienden la franquicia a capa y espada. ¡Construye una comunidad alrededor de tu marca y verás cómo tu ejército de fans aumenta! 🛡️❤️ • **El Arte de la Experiencia Benjamín Franklin**: ¿Cómo conectar con el jugador antes de que ponga un pie en tu mundo virtual? Demos, betas y trailers deben ser más que un sneak peek; deben ser una experiencia inolvidable que opere bajo el principio de Franklin: involúcrame y aprendo. 🕶️👾 Ahora, algunos power moves para llevar tu marketing de videojuegos a la Boss Stage: - 🏹 **Live-Streaming strategies**: Las alianzas con streamers y Youtubers son como tener un ejército de bards cantando tus hazañas por todo el reino. - 🎤 **Micro-Momentos**: Domina los micro-momentos con contenido oportuno y relevante. Sé el NPC que siempre aparece en el momento justo. - 🔄 **Feedback Loop**: Escucha a tu comunidad. El feedback es más valioso que todas las monedas de oro de un sandbox gigantesco. Y no olvidemos el Easter egg de este post: sin importar la estrategia, ¡disfruten el juego del marketing y branding tanto como esperan que sus gamers disfruten el de ustedes! 👾💬 **¡Hora de interactuar, gremio de LinkedIn!** 💬 👾 ¿Qué otras tácticas crees que pueden subir de nivel el marketing y branding en la industria del videojuego? ¿Tienes casos de éxito que nos quieras compartir? ¿Estrategias que deben evitarse cual veneno de poción mal preparada? ¡Adelante, dejen sus comentarios y anécdotas y no duden en etiquetar a ese colega que estaría fascinado de entrar en esta raid de conocimiento en el comentario! #Marketing #Branding #Videojuegos #Gaming #Storytelling #VisualIdentity #GamersUnidos

[el-cheung]

Stay alert, stay alive.

[cregan-starks]

Taquito | Beholden

Summary: Magnussen returns to Guadalajara.

Words: 3,395

Pairing: Walt Breslin x OC (not really)

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentions of drug trafficking, mentions of sexism, mention of communism, mentions of food, smoking, alcohol, cussing. Under no circumstances can you copy, plagiarize, steal my work, or post it somewhere else!

Notes: As always, apologies for taking so long to update. This chapter’s lighter than the previous ones, but I hope y’all still enjoy it. If you wish to be added to or removed from my taglist, my DMs and ask box are open.

Credits: Huge thank you to my beta @maharani-radha-writes 💛 and to my darlings @cleastrnge​ 💜 and @qoedameron​​ 💓 for the Mexican Spanish translations!  

Previous | Ao3 | Masterlist | Next

MARCH 6, 1986

GUADALAJARA, MEXICO

          Obscure fun fact: sometimes, the DEA experience involved sneaking barefoot out of a parking lot, at 1 a.m. Completely sober, too. Holding her shoes in one hand and her lit cigarette in the other, Magnussen sauntered towards her apartment building, accompanied by the sound of crickets. Against her better judgement, she stopped near a streetlamp to finish her cigarette. Bugs had flown around the top, drawn to its light. The current state of affairs did have a reasonable explanation. Barely two hours into her six-hour drive from Mexico City to Guadalajara, Magnussen’s feet had begun to hurt, so she had taken off her heels. In hindsight, it had been a shitty decision. The temperature had dropped significantly – causing goosebumps to erupt all over her skin – and the rough surface of the sidewalk underneath her feet created a slight discomfort. Magnussen took a drag from her cigarette, relishing in the view. The night sky served as a canvas for the shy, gleaming stars. A couple of blocks away, a dog barked as a car quietly drove by.

          Magnussen remembered a similar evening, sitting on the fence of the Consulate with Kiki and smoking, after he and his team had failed to lure Gallardo across the border into the U.S. and arrest him. Kiki had been so adamant about Gallardo knowing his name. He had felt exhausted, demoralized, defeated. That operation had been the closest they had ever gotten to capturing the Godfather, and he had slipped through their fingers… again. Kiki had longed to go home. It had seemed like he had finally been willing to abandon the hunt… and he should have. Back then, Gallardo had been wanted for being a notorious narco-trafficker. Now, he was also wanted for Kiki’s torture and murder. A sour reminder that a flame can transform into a wildfire.

          Worse, the men tasked with bringing Gallardo to justice didn’t even give a shit about Camarena. Magnussen gritted her teeth in frustration. She had taken Leyenda’s pulse, and she had been left rather disappointed. How was she supposed to work with them? Petski was auditioning to be a mime, Mejía was an arrogant toe, Méndez and Álvarez were yes-minions, Orozco was Breslin’s mustached parrot, Garza’s favorite hobby was waterboarding – or spitting on puppies – Palacios hadn’t developed a personality yet, and Breslin was a narrow-minded redneck. He probably wouldn’t budge on the Azul situation. Typical Yankee; loved to hear himself speak, rejected anyone else’s input. Whatever. Magnussen was too woman for her opinion to matter. Morales had been the only one whom she had genuinely liked. At least he had had the decency to introduce himself and welcome her to the team… although, as far as Magnussen was concerned, he must have had ulterior motives, too. Severe lack of trust among coworkers. Off to a great start…

          Give it time, she reasoned. Loosen some of that Eastern European pessimism. Magnussen dropped her cigarette on the ground, instinctively moving her foot to put it out before pausing in realization. Dodged a burn. She crouched and used the heel of one of the shoes that she was holding to extinguish the cigarette, mumbling “ridiculous” to herself, then headed into the complex. Magnussen peered to distinguish shapes in the dark in an attempt to not trip and fall flat on her mug as she tiptoed up the oddly dirty and sticky stairs. She cringed internally at the mere idea of navigating her apartment in this condition, already tired. Throw in hunger and an agonizing need to pee, and you could guess Magnussen’s general disposition.

          Maybe contemplating building her own network within the operation would serve as a distraction and cheer her up a bit. She couldn’t depend on her colleagues forever. In fact, she didn’t fancy relying on them at all. Administrator Lawn had gotten one thing right. Magnussen was no team player. She refused to let Calderoni off the hook, too. She demanded answers, and she was certain that the Commander was in possession of one or two of them. Calderoni had potentially upgraded to triple agent, bumping elbows with the Mexican government, the U.S. government, and the Guadalajara cartel. When Magnussen had told Breslin that Leyenda required somebody on the inside, she had meant it. Commander Calderoni was the perfect candidate for the job. Her plans didn’t end there, either. She also wanted to set up surveillance on Tómas Morlet – a DFS agent who had actually been placed at the scene of Camarena’s abduction and the man responsible for Kiki’s neighbor’s execution – and the low-ranking assholes who just so happened to be on Leyenda’s hit list. Happy coincidence.

          Magnussen curled her fingers around the handrail, for support, the sound of her rings clinking against the metal echoing. Apologies, neighbors. Unfortunately, they will have to adapt. You never knew what you were going to get, with Magnussen. Judging by the crusty sensation in the corners of her eyes, her makeup had betrayed her as well, becoming smudged. Magnussen was eager to eat, sleep… definitely drink… and wash her feet. She made it past the second floor. Almost there. So close, yet so far away. Magnussen even entertained the idea of crawling on all fours to avoid smearing the floor and carpets in her apartment. Who was she kidding? She would undoubtedly pass out immediately. Anything else belonged to the realm of speculation.

          Fuck.

          Magnussen froze in her spot, startled by a door swinging open, nearly clutching her shoes to her chest.

          ‘¡Oh, mierda!’, exclaimed the intruder, equally stunned, ‘Me espantaste.’ (Oh, shit! You scared me.)

          You and me both, honey. The apartment’s light flooded the hallway, further confusing Magnussen’s fragile state of mind.

          ‘Pérdon,’ she mumbled, discreetly studying the woman in front of her. (Sorry.)

          Big, dark eyes stared at Magnussen with concern. Her turquoise nails contrasted her smooth, brown skin, and her thick eyebrows were darker than her lengthy curls. She wore a beige cardigan over a white undershirt, her voluptuous chest distracting Magnussen only a little… as did her plump lips and curvy hips.

          ‘¿Estás bien?’, inquired the woman, visibly worried. (Are you okay?)

          Poor soul. Magnussen couldn’t blame her. She was roaming the hallway, barefoot, at one in the morning. Don’t sweat it, she could’ve seen worse.

          ‘Totalmente,’ assured Magnussen, calmly, ‘Solo tratando de llegar a mi departamento.’ (Totally. Just trying to get to my apartment.)

          ‘¿Vives aquí?’, asked the woman, surprised, perking up, ‘No te he visto antes.’ (You live here? I haven’t seen you before.)

          You shouldn’t exactly be seeing me now, either. That’s a story for… never. If you’re fortunate, you won’t run into me in the future.

          ‘Me mudé ayer,’ clarified Magnussen, hesitantly, regarding the current time, ‘O hace dos días. ¿Porqué estás sacando la basura a esta hora?’, she interrogated, referring to the trash bag that the woman was holding. (I moved in yesterday… or two days ago. Why are you taking out the trash at this hour?)

          Forget about my suspicious behavior. What about yours? The woman’s demeanor did not suggest that she was deceiving Magnussen. Alas, her investigative skills after midnight should be deemed dubious, at best.

          ‘Estaba afuera con unos amigos,’ explained the neighbor, the memory fond, ‘Ah, tú eres la que pone Judas Priest a todo volúmen.’ (I was out with some friends. Ah, you’re the one who plays Judas Priest loudly.)

          ‘Sí,’ confirmed Magnussen, unsure how to feel about the label, ‘Esa soy yo.’ (Yeah. That’s me.)

          Spotted on day one, and already effortlessly built a reputation for herself. How long would laying low have lasted, anyway? She couldn’t not talk with sentient beings.

          ‘Soy Guadalupe,’ introduced the woman, friendly, extending her free hand, ‘Llámame Lupita.’ (I’m Guadalupe. Call me Lupita.)

          ‘Bonito nombre,’ complimented Magnussen, shaking her hand, mindful of her shoulder holster peeking out from her jacket, ‘Santo. Soy Antonia. Llámame Toni.’ (Beautiful name. Holy. I’m Antonia. Call me Toni.)

          Another lie that she would have to maintain. I gotta put them on paper, eventually.

          ‘Gusto en conocerte,’ commented Lupita, offering a small smile, ‘¿De dónde eres?’ (Nice to meet you. Where are you from?)

          Shit.

          ‘Es un poco complicado,’ excused Magnussen, awkwardly, grimacing, ‘Vivo en Nueva Zelanda... pero nací en Rumanía.’ (That’s a bit complicated. I live in New Zealand… but I was born in Romania.)

          ‘No sé mucho de Rumanía,’ admitted Guadalupe, sounding disheartened, ‘Nunca he estado ahí.’ (I don’t know much about Romania. Never been.)

          ‘No te preocupes,’ enunciated Magnussen, waving dismissively, ‘No te pierdes mucho.’ (Don’t worry. You didn’t miss out on much.)

          Unless you count communist repression, minimum respect for human rights, secrecy, propaganda, occasionally hideous infrastructure.

          ‘¿Cómo es que estás en Guadalajara?’, questioned Lupita, politely curious. (How come you’re all the way in Guadalajara?)

          Attempting to bring justice to my deceased friend, who was tortured and murdered by a drug cartel, in collaboration with the Mexican government – allegedly. So, the usual.

          ‘Yo, uh, tengo un internado,’ disclosed Magnussen, mentally congratulating herself for her duplicitous reflexes, ‘En el consulado de Estados Unidos.’ (I, uh, have an internship… at the U.S. Consulate.)

          It’s a classified internship. Please, don’t press the issue. It’s a difficult period for me.

          ‘Que elegante,’ noted Guadalupe, half impressed, tugging her sweater over her chest, to keep warm, ‘Yo estoy intentando tener un título de Artes. Trabajo en un salón de uñas.’ (Fancy. I’m trying to get an Arts degree. I work at a nail salon.)

          Glancing down at her feet, Magnussen curled her toes, to prevent them from falling victim to frostbite. “Fancy” is not a word I would use to describe my “internship.” Arts are always approved of. Artists are the soul of society.

          ‘Buena suerte,’ she replied, unable to omit the most precious fact, ‘¿Salón de uñas, huh? Que suerte la mía.’ (Good luck. Nail salon, huh? Lucky me.)

          ‘Eres bienvenida cuando quieras,’ asserted Lupita, leaning against the doorframe, ‘¿Estás libre este fin de semana? Deberíamos salir.’ (You are welcome anytime. Are you free this weekend? We should hang out.)

          Despite her initial cynicism, Magnussen gradually realized that she would need to interact with people outside of her Leyenda circle, otherwise she would lose it and commit atrocities.

          ‘Aún no lo sé,’ began Magnussen before interrupting herself to address the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel that emerged from Guadalupe’s apartment, ‘Oh, hola.’ (I don’t know yet – Oh, hello.)

          Lupita quickly moved her foot to block the dog’s path. Its round, black eyes watched Magnussen with a sweet, gentle expression, and its lengthy, fluffy ears framed its face. The dog sported a silky, classical Blenheim coat – rich chestnut markings on a clear, pearly white ground.

          ‘Esta es Taquito,’ revealed Guadalupe, evidently not having anticipated the dog’s presence, ‘Debería estar dormida.’ (This is Taquito. She should be asleep.)

          Taquito – excellent name, by the way – can do whatever she wants.

          ‘Es un amor,’ countered Magnussen, affectionately, crouching to scratch the dog behind its ears, ‘Tráela contigo cuando salgamos.’ (She’s a darling. Bring her with you when we go out.)

          ‘Los perros no están permitidos en bares, Toni,’ reminded Lupita, playfully. (Dogs aren’t allowed in bars, Toni.)

          ‘Que se jodan,’ declared Magnussen, adamantly, petting Taquito’s head, ‘Iremos a un parque.’ (Fuck them. We’ll go to a park.)

          Taquito showed her endorsement by wagging her tail, excitedly.

          ‘Le encantará eso,’ chuckled Guadalupe, weakly pushing the dog back into her apartment, ‘Di buenas noches, Taquito.’ (She’ll love that. Say good night, Taquito.)

          ‘Buenas noches,’ said Magnussen, standing up and waving to Taquito. (Good night.)

          ‘Realmente tengo que tirar la basura,’ recalled Guadalupe, cautiously shutting the door once the dog was inside, ‘Nos vemos luego.’ (I really have to throw away the trash. See you around.)

          ‘Cuídate,’ quipped Magnussen, amused, observing her depart down the stairs. (Take care.)

          Alright. Scram, Scout. Forth, on to your lair.

          Magnussen kicked off her slippers and leaned back against the couch – mindful of her filled wine glass – stretching her legs before resting her feet on the edge of the coffee table. Fleetwood Mac’s Spare Me a Little of Your Love started to play quietly on the stereo. She sipped her beverage, the spice inundating her taste buds, urging her nerves and muscles to finally relax, since the immediate burdens had been lifted off her chest; she had relieved her bladder, washed her feet, removed her makeup, changed into her pyjamas, and eaten… dinner? What meal do people have at two a.m.?

          Her eyes lingered on the telephone laying on the table, conflicted. She should have dealt with this yesterday… or two days ago. She itched for another cigarette, but that would require getting up, walking into the bedroom, retrieving the pack, and cracking a window to get rid of the smell and smoke. Open windows at night were a no-go. Magnussen was on her own. She downed her wine – setting the glass aside – and grabbed the telephone. Magnussen checked her wrist watch as she dialed the number, estimating that it must have been eight in the morning in New Zealand. Here we go.

          A few seconds passed, and the prolonged dial tone seemed to be in sync with her heartbeat. Magnussen absentmindedly pulled on the loose thread of one of her fuzzy socks, hoping that the noise would cease – though she was unsure about her preferred outcome. One where I don’t get shamed for suffering from chronic hesitancy.

          When the dial tone abruptly stopped, the words died on her tongue, her throat dry. A funny feeling settled in her stomach. Anxiety butterflies.

          ‘Hello?’, answered Maia’s robotic voice, casually.

          Any trace of thoughts vacated Magnussen’s mind. She glanced around the living room, fixating on nothing in particular.

          ‘Uh, hey,’ she greeted, stiffly, scratching the nape of her neck, ‘It’s me.’

          ‘Well, well, well,’ articulated Maia, and Magnussen braced herself for the upcoming snark, ‘La Llorona didn’t find you yet. I hear you’re serenading me.’

          Magnussen involuntarily looked at the stereo. The song neared its end.

          Spare me a little,

          Spare me a little,

          Spare me a little of your love.

          ‘Compensating for my silence,’ she huffed, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards, ‘Sorry about that, by the way. What’re you up to?’

          ‘In the kitchen,’ informed a grumpy Maia, ‘Drinking coffee before work.’

          ‘First cup?’, inquired Magnussen, smugly proving that she knew Maia’s morning routine.

          ‘Second,’ corrected Maia, apparently fumbling with cutlery in the background.

          ‘Oh, so, I caught you at a good time,’ joked Magnussen, leaning over the couch arm to turn off the stereo.

          ‘That depends,’ teased Maia, flirtatiously, ‘What’ve you got for me?’

          ‘I just got back to Guadalajara,’ droned Magnussen, the reminder causing her to feel tired again.

          ‘Isn’t it late there?’, checked Maia, confused, the frown in her tone palpable.

          ‘Early, according to some,’ countered Magnussen, humorously, producing a small piece of paper from the pocket of her pyjama pants, ‘I had a meeting with the team.’

          Morales’ note. She scanned the neatly written names and numbers, barely paying attention.

          ‘And how was it?’, interrogated Maia, evidently curious.

          ‘I’m not,’ began Magnussen, carefully, searching for the appropriate term, ‘Too impressed. They seem like a bunch of yes-men. In it for a medal and a few bucks. Only Morales talked to me afterwards. Genuine or not…’

          ‘There’s that pessimism, alive and well,’ observed Maia, fondly.

          ‘It’s not that,’ grumbled Magnussen, shoving the note in her pocket, ‘Breslin’s already stepping on my tail.’

          Romanian saying. Maia would get it. She always does.

          ‘Who could’ve anticipated that?’, falsely lamented an amused Maia.

          ‘He has ego cramps because of the airport thing,’ dismissed Magnussen, sinking into the couch.

          ‘Do tell,’ encouraged Maia, interested.

          An opportunity to complain? She would be a fool not to seize it. Maia proceeded to sip her coffee, loudly, forcing Magnussen to briefly remove the telephone from her ear, annoyed by the noise. Maia was doing it on purpose.

          ‘I randomly saw him struggling to light his cigarette,’ explained Magnussen, feigning innocence, ‘So, I offered him my lighter. Made small talk.’

          ‘You didn’t tell him who you were,’ concluded Maia, incredulously.

          ‘Of course, I didn’t,’ scoffed Magnussen, offended by the implication, ‘Said my name’s Sofia, faked an accent. He was probably suspicious, but I doubt he figured out what was really wrong. We met a second time in Heath’s office.’

          ‘Gross,’ deadpanned Maia.

          Magnussen wholeheartedly agreed.

          ‘I didn’t know Breslin was gonna show,’ she clarified, placing the telephone between her ear and shoulder to reach for the DEA badge on the coffee table, ‘He didn’t know I was gonna show. It was funny. He was so pissed.’

          ‘Barbie’s boyfriend must have been confused as hell,’ posited Maia, chuckling, ‘What did he do?’

          ‘Nothing,’ shrugged Magnussen, bitterly, ‘It’s not in his job description. He still pretends to have a spine. He didn’t stay long. I can’t tell if he feels any guilt over what happened.’

          She studied the pretentious-looking object, attentively, her nail lightly digging into the eagle – the U.S. – proudly sitting atop the badge’s sunburst-shaped body, grasping an olive branch and arrows – the federal government’s authority over peace and war. Atrocious.

          ‘It’s not in the job description,’ echoed Maia, somber, ‘He doesn’t have to.’

          ‘Hopefully, D.C. will be merciful, and I won’t have to deal with Bureaucrat Ken’s existence moving forward,’ claimed Magnussen, gloomy, tossing her badge on the table, ‘Anyway, I bumped into one of my neighbors. Lupita. She has a dog named Taquito.’

          ‘Congratulations on socializing,’ jested Maia, condescendingly, ‘A reason for you to go out more. Don’t forget to smuggle Taquito into New Zealand when you come back.’

          ‘If I come back,’ corrected Magnussen, reflexively, then subtly attempted to change the subject, ‘I thought we were getting a cat.’

          ‘Hey, don’t talk like that,’ scolded Maia, refusing to take the feline bait.

          Magnussen provided no response, instead shifting into a more comfortable, apathy-compatible position, lying down on her side, balancing the telephone over her left ear.

          ‘How’re you holding up, so far?’, murmured Maia, concerned, as if she were reaching out to tenderly squeeze Magnussen’s shoulder.

          A lump formed in her throat, preventing the truth from bursting past the surface. I wish things hadn’t been like this. I wish Kiki would still be alive. I wish I had been a child for a little longer. Lying to Maia would be pointless. Magnussen swallowed hard and counted the seconds, pondering when would be the right moment to say something. She sniffed, gradually sobering up.

          ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Magnussen, at last, voice wavering, ‘It’s strange, being here, not having him around… The city hasn’t changed much, but everything feels different. I’m starting to understand what Jaime meant.’

          ‘You need time,’ offered Maia, compassionately, ‘Going back was never going to be easy. You’re probably not going to like this, but I think you’re doing this for yourself as much as you’re doing it for Kiki… Take it easy.’

          Historically unsustainable for me.

          ‘You might be creating problems where there aren’t any,’ continued Maia, surprisingly civil, ‘Heath, Breslin, Morales, whoever the fuck. You’ll be fine. You can handle them. They have no idea what’s coming.’

          ‘The cartel or the DEA?’, quipped Magnussen, managing a smile.

          ‘Both,’ replied Maia, decisively.

          ‘Okay, enough about my bullshit,’ interjected Magnussen, her allergy to compliments manifesting, ‘How’s everything on your side of the world?’

          ‘Long version?’, recited Maia, aggressively setting her mug in the sink, ‘Up to my neck in work. O’Connor is driving me up a fucking wall. I don’t know who hired him, and I don’t know why they won’t fire him… Short version? I can’t wait for the weekend.’

          ‘Amen, sister,’ yawned Magnussen, stretching her legs that didn’t remotely touch the opposing arm of the couch.

          ‘Alright, I have to go to work,’ announced Maia, adopting her Mom Tone, ‘And you need to sleep.’

          ‘Mmmyeah,’ mumbled Magnussen, drowsily, rubbing her eye, ‘I miss you.’

          ‘I bet you do,’ sassed Maia, readily.

          ‘Mahuika,’ warned Magnussen, vaguely threatening.

          ‘I miss you, too,’ reassured a sly Maia, ‘Call me at more decent hours.’

          ‘Attempts will be made,’ bargained Magnussen, doubtful, ‘Good… morning.’

          ‘Good night, honey,’ chirped Maia.

          Magnussen lazily shifted on her back, allowing the telephone to fall next to her, on the couch cushion. She stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, contemplative, before she realized that the unwashed dishes awaited her, in the kitchen. From the bottom of her being, Magnussen released a deep, heavy sigh.

          Fuck.

TAGLIST: @a-dash-of-random-magic​ @amidalaraan​ @artthurshelby​ @buttercup--bee​ @cleastrnge​ @dameronology​ @frodo-sam​ @itssmashedavo​ @kalondarling​ @ladygangsters​ @maevesdarling​ @maevemills​ @maharani-radha​ @mitchi-c​ @moonlight-prose​ @nicolettegreen​ @pascalisthepunkest​ @queenofthefaceless​ @revolution-starter​ @sullho​ @themangolorian​ @tisbeautifulfreedom​ @qoedameron​

END THE WAR ON DRUGS: Equity Organization & Drug Policy Alliance

READ MORE: Mahuika, DEA badge, to step on someone’s tail = to annoy/upset them

[rokhal]

The Raw Chicken Incident

Warning for body horror and humorous grossness.

This ficlet references this incident from Marc Spector: Moon Knight where Marc develops a mysterious illness that culminates in...brain-scarring weirdness. This is a re-imagining of that incident. With Robbie Reyes in full over-protective-brother-mode. Because.

They hustled inside at three in the morning, one stooped under a tarp and one watching for nosy neighbors, shut the door softly, and for once, Robbie Reyes was not the most monstrous and unnatural being in his apartment.

Robbie’s guest slunk to the couch and lay down, still cloaked in the plastic tarp that Eli insisted Robbie keep in the trunk of the Charger for “contingencies.” Robbie stood in the kitchen for several minutes, breathing slowly and deeply, until he remembered with a jolt that he’d planned to make chicken soup tonight for him and Gabe to eat over the next three days. He’d planned to get home and start cooking at midnight, finish at two, sleep for four hours and go to work.

This was going to suck.

He turned on the light in the stove hood and carefully pulled out the big stock pot, the cutting board, the knife, the vegetables, the thawed chicken from the refrigerator, vision blurring, forcing himself to concentrate as he lowered each item to keep from clattering, clanking, thumping, waking Gabe on a school night.

He set the stock pot in the sink at an angle and slowly eased open the faucet until a soft steady flow of water began to fill it. Meanwhile, he cut carrots and celery.

He heard a thunderous plasticky crackle-rustle behind him and bared his teeth, fury racing from his heart to his fingers and toes. Breathe. Compose himself. Turn around.

Jake, or Steven, had left the couch to sit at the kitchen table, red slit-pupils dilated in the dim light, hard white skin shining where it clung to raised sharp bones, clawed toes gently scratching the linoleum. He dug idly at the bed of his thumbnail with his opposite talons. The tarp had fallen off his shoulders to fold around his waist.

Right. That. “I thought you had a sting operation,” Robbie whispered, shutting off the water and lugging the heavy stock-pot to the stove. Four sex workers had been being torn to pieces in alleys over two weeks by a humanoid monster -- a man in a fright mask, the witnesses said -- and normally this was something the Rider would take care of without thinking twice, but vice cops were also being torn to pieces, and if the Rider made an appearance in the area, he might as well sign a confession as a cop killer. So he’d tipped off Jake from New York. Jake had promised that an expert would be in the area in a couple days and begged Robbie to stay out of it. The killings had stopped, and a couple weeks later Robbie got an invite to a six-car no-trailer eighth-mile tourney down in San Diego, and on the drive home tonight he’d almost hit...this...lurching into the roadway in front of the Charger.

“I did,” Jake croaked. He licked his lipless fangs with a forked, prehensile tongue, shook his head, sniffed loudly. “I stopped him. Clearly. But...witnesses said, ‘guy in a fright mask.’ Guy in a fright mask, slashing women on the street, enough skills and training to take out vice cops without being detected -- it was gonna be Marc’s, eh, somebody Marc knew from way back. Personal. Otherwise I’d...prob’ly invite La Leyenda out for a little tag-team. Which I shoulda done. Live and learn.”

“Marc?” Robbie asked, hoping to divert any more speculation about La Leyenda.

“Name on my birth certificate,” Jake said casually, squinting at the rough, almost scaly, creases in his palm. “As it turned out, it was an associate from back in the day, Jay Macendale. Costumed-contractor last I heard, a merc, a professional. Out killing cops and slashing ladies of the night, and it ain’t a fright mask, it’s his face. Strong as shit. Barely managed to chase him off, and Jay wanted me to win. Best I can tell, he’s...infected with something. He scratched the shit outta my chest.”

Robbie turned to look. Even with his eyes adjusted to the dim light, there were no scars on the rough white skin that clung to ropy muscles and jutting rib-bones.

“Docs thought it was necrotizing fasciitis,” Jake said casually, rubbing his left pectoral. “Kept spreading, they were pumping me fulla antibiotics, Steven went into hiding, Marc showed up to write this fuckin’ twenty-page confessional, and I kept not dying, which was odd. Moony kept working. Noticed I was gettin’ stronger. First I thought it was the lycanthropy acting up again, which --”

“What?” Robbie interrupted. He noticed he’d been chopping one carrot over and over until it was practically mush. He scraped it onto a plate and started on the celery.

“The thing that makes you a werewolf, it’s a virus, like cold sores,” Jake muttered, waving a talon dismissively. “Made sense, ‘cause when the cultures kept coming up negative they switched to pumpin’ me fulla cortisone, except the moon wasn’t even at first quarter and I was benchin’ four-fifty.”

He’s spilling his guts here, Eli pointed out. Something’s got him rattled.

Can’t imagine what that might be, Robbie thought, and opened the chicken’s shrink-wrap over the sink. Slimy blood oozed out.

“Everyone -- eh, Steven doesn’t really have a lot of people, but he’s the one keeps the most regular hours, you know? But he couldn’t deal with it. I could barely deal with it. I let Moony sleep in the suit so I didn’t have to look at myself. Steven’s lady, Marc’s buddy, the staff, everyone was goin’ nuts, doctors couldn’t tell me anything, and Marc’s best idea was to track down Macendale and ask him. ‘Cause, see, my skin kept falling off but at least I was strong enough now to beat some answers outta him.”

“What’d he say?” Robbie asked when Jake fell silent.

“Begged me to take his place.” Jake’s New Yawk accent, mangled though it had been through the long tongue and lipless teeth, was gone. “He...said he had a demon, that would take control of him. Making him hurt 'sinners’ because it wanted to ‘repent,’ and it, it’d be happier with me. ‘Cause I’d already quit the merc business. And.” The bone-white creature at Robbie’s kitchen table re-settled the tarp over his head and shoulders, covering his arms and tucking his claws inside. “I. You know I’m different people, Jake and Steven didn’t bother hiding it when we met, but...I’m not possessed. We have differences -- serious differences -- but we could’ve all been one person probably. But when he said it, I thought -- I mean, Moon Knight thought --”

“Thought he was being possessed?” Robbie asked gently.

“No. Possessing me. Us.” The person -- Marc? -- sat very still under the tarp. “Why does Jake trust you?”

“I don’t know.” He shouldn’t.

“Even if Moon Knight is possessing me, I’m glad it’s him,” Marc said softly, only the green gleam of eyeshine from his slit pupils visible under the tarp. “He’s doing a lot of good. I trust him. I -- we, all of...me.” He swallowed, a strange, drawn-out gurgling sound. “Think La Leyenda would help me track down Macendale again? I lost a few days doing that thing caterpillars do. Pupating.”

Robbie appreciated Marc giving him an out, especially since he’d confessed to being Moon Knight when he didn’t have to. “Tracking isn’t his thing.” Tracking was Robbie’s thing, and it took time and money he didn’t want to spare. He rinsed the chicken goop down the drain and finished unwrapping it, checked down the neck-hole. The grocery store liked to stuff gross things down there, probably to make it heavier so they could charge more. He pulled out two wet floppy red things and a firm round red thing.

“I’ll handle it,” Marc grunted. His stomach gurgled, loud enough to hear over the soft simmer from the stove. “If you drive me to my apawtment --” Jake’s accent was back. “Shit, the biometrics. Fukendammit.” He shrugged out of the tarp and studied the fingertips of one hand, gripping his abdomen with the other. “Retinal scanner oughtta work at least.”

Robbie doubted that. He opened the cupboard under the sink with his shoe and dropped the gross chicken bits in the garbage can. “Call me as soon as you find him.” If Moon Knight didn’t know the Rider could teleport, then maybe he could find Macendale and take care of him permanently, without interference. Not necessarily kill him. Robbie didn’t know enough about Macendale yet -- Guy said he’s a mercenary! Like the fuckers that killed you! -- to decide whether he should die, but it was good to have options. You’re gonna do it. You know you’re gonna do it. God, you’re obnoxious.

Jake’s stomach rumbled again, and he grunted.

“You okay?” Robbie asked, his hands slick with chicken juice. Jake’s face, such as it was, was unreadable, but the way he clutched his abdomen and bowed his head looked like pain, confusion, and Robbie had seen Gabe in that exact same pose, too many times to ignore it. “You want a heating pad?”

“Dunno.” The gurgling sounded again, persistent and angry. He poked under his ribs with one knuckle, claw tucked safely away. “It’s all so fuckin’ weird -- ah! Ah!” His knuckle sank inside as his skin parted like a seam, wet red things moving within, and as he yanked his hand away, his entire body tensed and something long and coiled and muscular sprang out from the wound, slapped against Robbie’s arm, and engulfed the chicken, styrofoam tray and all, in its fanged circular maw.

Fuck! Robbie dodged aside, pawed at his hip for Eli’s long-vanished belt knife, sweat prickling over his body as he gazed at the squirming horror on his kitchen counter: soft, wet, red, large as a python, eyeless, skinless.

Jake was stone-still, panting shallowly, pupils blank slits in his huge red eyes, clear fluid oozing from the void under his ribs. The creature’s rubbery mouth sealed shut again, its coils flexed, and then it sprang back at Jake’s wound, and with a wrench that drew another pained grunt, tugged the bulge of the chicken and the rest of its body in after it. The wound, which was not a wound, closed tight like clenched lips.

Jake blinked, pawed at his stomach, and took a deep breath, then another and another, far too fast to be actual controlled breathing. “I’m okay,” he gasped on an exhale. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“That was supposed to be this week’s dinner,” Robbie said numbly. His arm was wet where the -- chest-burster -- had slapped against it, and he felt around for the dish soap, still watching Jake for further...eruptions.

“I just ate five pounds of raw chicken,” Jake said. At least it might have been Jake. His slit-pupils had grown huge and round, and Robbie could see every sharp bone in his chest heave with his breaths. “I can’t do this. Fuck, I can’t do this, I can’t --” and he cut himself off and stared blankly at the stock pot, which had finally begun to boil now that Robbie had nothing to put in it.

Robbie washed off his arm, and then the counter, with soap, several times, and opened the freezer. He had a tube of ground beef that was supposed to be for Hamburger Helper. In the cupboard, he had a bag of mixed soup beans with a recipe on the side. He squinted at it. You were supposed to soak the beans overnight, which was why they’d been sitting in his cupboard for two years. Walmart was all the way across town. It was almost four in the morning. He’d bought all these vegetables. Cut a pile of carrots and celery. He stared at the cutting board and the knife, waiting for a fantasy to flash across his brain of slashing Jake’s throat into the stock pot or something horrible, and yep, there it came.

He’d just have to use the hamburger.

“I’m okay,” the person said again, calm now.

“Jake?” Robbie asked softly.

“I don’t care. Sure. I can pay for the chicken.”

$7.82 for a frozen chicken wouldn’t exactly compensate Robbie for his lost time. Or sleep. Or from having to see Jake eject an entire organ across the room; Robbie burned to death once or twice a month for the last two years and he’d never seen anything so horrible before in his life.

Jake, or whoever, stood, the tarp loose around his waist. “I’ll sleep. Digest.”

“My brother’s gonna wake up in about three hours,” Robbie said.

“Hm. Got a coat closet?”

“Use my bed. I’ll sleep in the car.” For two hours, while the soup cooled. “Hey. Are you, um.” Robbie couldn’t think of anything he could possibly say that could relieve the horror of Jake’s situation. “You want some hot chocolate?”

“Not sure which hole to drink it with,” Possibly-Jake said, which was a mental image Robbie did not need. “There’s no way I’m getting through the biometrics. Howsabout you and me, tonight, we go to my place, you call La Leyenda, see if we can’t break in fast enough to cancel the alarms before the cops come. Then you can be my face-man to track down Macendale. Grand a week, ten after I beat some answers outta him. You in?”

That’s more like it. “I’m in.” Robbie showed the vaguely-humanoid being into his room, grabbed his laptop and his more sensitive loose-leaf notebooks to hide in the car. He tugged the sheets straight, suddenly self-conscious of the holes in the cotton, the dent in the mattress, nothing like Gabe’s bedding, which had come new from the discount store. The mingled stink of body odor and gasoline that filled the room. “Are you...really okay?”

Possibly-Jake shrugged, let the tarp drop entirely. “Is anyone?” He flopped into Robbie’s bed and covered himself faster than Robbie could avert his eyes.

Is anyone? Robbie shut the door softly, returned to the kitchen, checked the chair where Jake had just had a panic attack for stray drops of chicken juice or abdominal fluid. He got out the tube of ground beef and started cutting it free from its plastic tube, hands shaking but not enough to let the frozen meat slip. Is anyone really okay?

Maybe not. But they did what they had to do.

[maevesdarling]

Take me home tonight

Sooo, I decided to post chapter 1 of the story @unicorn-cloud and I have been cooking up for a while. This plays post series in an alternative universe. There’s mentions of gore and canon typical violence in both this and the second chapter, basically Walt is not dealing with things as good as he thought... I’m not sure how many chapters this story will have, probably around 3 to 4, also please be kind to me it’s been a long time since I uploaded my works to Tumblr, thx!  

Chapter 1: The Call

Later, after he put his gun and badge down and moves further away from the border, Walt gets a call from an unknown number. He contemplates not picking up. It's been years since Kiki's death and operation Leyenda. He thinks, for a moment, that it could be Miguel Angel, calling him from his jail cell to taunt him, but no, he's not important enough to that man and besides, Miguel Angel doesn't wield as much power as he used to.

There are others. New players in this fucked up game, Walt knows that. He saw them rising on the horizon like a looming thunderstorm, ready to destroy the earth in it's path. But for now, he decided to enjoy his peace. His back's been bothering him more as of lately and he's got a few more grey hairs. He quit smoking about a year ago, after his doctor told him to do so. He's had a few setbacks since then, a half finished pack is always hidden underneath his kitchen sink, just in case he needs a fix. But overall, he's trying to stay away from the cigarettes and eat more healthy, even though the microwavable dinners at the supermarket look damn tempting, especially since it's only himself he's cooking for.

He's up in Colorado these days. The DEA was kind enough to leave him with a nice sum of retirement money, probably to shut him up after all the shit he pulled of during his career and to be fair he doesn't blame them.

He buys a nice enough house on the outskirts of town, with some additional property, a rundown barn and an old apple tree orchard that he has no plan on using. The weather's less hot, and there's a few lakes where he can fish, but otherwise, it's pretty much like any other town he's lived in. The dark red sandstones dotting the farmland remind him of Mexico. Of sitting in the hot sun and watching a small airfield in the distance, with a pair of binoculars in his hand. Sal's voice next to him asking about their next move. It's nostalgic in a way.

The first day, after he finished dropping off his stuff in the small, rundown house, he sets off to drive around, get familiar with the place. He finds a shabby bar, a small supermarket, a post office, a family owned diner and a few farms, with cows and hundreds of chickens roaming the surrounding fields, that sell local products. Over time, he ventures out further and discovers some more bars, supermarkets and, to his surprise, a gay club.

It's well hidden, two cities over, wedged between an antique bookstore and a barbershop. It looks nothing like a club from outside, and from the inside, it's hardly distinguishable from any other bar Walt has ever set foot in. But he knows where to look, it's something you learn over time.

The first time he orders a drink, his eyes fall on a guy sitting on the other end of the bar. Dark hair and dark eyes, with a bristly moustache. He's wearing a black cowboy hat and a jeans jacket, it's not what he would have worn. Plus he only looks a slight bit like Sal, his face is much older, more weathered from years of hard work in the sun, but it's enough for Walt to give in to his yearning.

He buys Not-Sal a drink and they fall into an easy chatter. Two hours later, Walt is driving him back to his house. Not-Sal is more experienced than Walt had thought when he starts undressing him with steady hands, his fingers touching in all the right places, he's already prepared, as if he'd been expecting this to happen, and doesn't mind it when Walt accidentally let's Sal's name slip at the height of his pleasure.

They lie together afterwards, sharing a cigarette between them, neither of them ready to leave yet. Walt is slowly falling asleep to the feeling of another person combing their hands through his hair. When he wakes up the next morning, the house is empty. There's a note on his kitchen table, a short thank you message, that's it. Next time he's at the club, Not-Sal is gone. He finds someone else. A different man, with dark hair, dark eyes and a friendly face, and then another and another. Some of the men he brings over are kind, they'll stay the night and sometimes even the morning, to share a quick meal with him before they move on, others leave almost immediately after they finish. Some of them yell out Walt's name as they come, others don't. And some yell out another man's name, but that's okay because so is Walt.

He's careful with the company he keeps. Always making sure that no one sees him leaving the club with another man, driving different routes back home and of course he's always stocking up on enough condoms because he's not stupid, he knows how important protection is.

Even though he's had a few men over, none of them return for longer than a couple of times. Its fun, to fill the mornings with senseless chatter, and to fall asleep in another person's arms. But they're not Sal.

He's longing for him. Even after all those years he's still longing for him. It's been three, almost four years since he last heard from Sal. He was moving to San Francisco. The DEA wanted someone new up there and Sal was growing tired of the shit hole they had placed him in after Mexico. They had called each other almost everyday, sometimes they would even meet each other, for a quick chat and an even quicker fuck. There was never enough time.

Sal wanted to call him back, he promised, once he was in San Francisco, to call him every day. Write a postcard. But nothing came. The telephone was silent for two whole months and Walt was desperate. First, he checked the newspapers for any missing or recently deceased people, when that search came up empty, he started to search the phone book for Sal's new address but of course that came up empty as well. He kept buying new phone books, just in case and by now, there was a small bookcase filled with old phone books in his house, and not a single one held an address for Sal Orozco. It was almost like he never exited. Only Walt's memory kept him from going insane. The fading photos on his wall, the one he kept in his wallet, next to a picture of Greg and his family. One of Sal's shirts he forgot in Walt's apartment in Texas, it had long stopped smelling of him, but nevertheless, Walt would pick it up and inhale deeply, thinking that the ghost of Sal's smell was still there, etched into the fabric. He slept with the shirt, on those nights when he woke up drenched in sweat, screaming and with a thundering heart. He wrenched his eyes open but he saw them anyway, Amat, Ossie, Danilo, sometimes even Kiki. He saw them die, he saw their bodies, bruised, burned, riddled with bullets, standing in front of his bed, he could hear them calling out his name. "You killed us, Walt." They'd point at him, blood dripping from their fingertips onto his bedsheets. Those nights were the worst. Sometimes they could only be stopped with an entire bottle of whiskey.

The dreams had gotten better since he found the dog. The dog didn't have a name. He was a stray, with dark, golden fur and dirty white paws. He picked him up on his way home from an unsuccessful night at the club, the dog was covered in ticks and fleas, one eye had been badly bruised and he was tied to a tree by the side of the road. Clearly abandoned. He expected the dog to bark at him, or worse, bite him, when he kneeled down beside him to untie him, but instead, it sat down in front of Walt and started wagging it's tail, as if he'd known Walt all his life. He took the dog in and gave it a bath, making sure that no ticks or fleas survived, before driving him to the vet the next morning to check out his eye. The vet couldn't save it and so Walt decided to take him in, just another broken thing keeping his company.

He put a collar on the dog and called him his, they slept in the same bed and sat on the couch together, watching football games and stupid action movies. The dog went fishing on the lake with him, even though he was no big help in catching the fish, he also liked to run around the orchard and sit on the front porch to sleep, and Walt liked to sit beside him and think, scratching behind his fluffy ears. Sometimes he wondered if Sal liked dogs. What he'd say if he met his dog.

The other animals were intentional. Walt bought a couple of chickens to sell their eggs at the local farm, and to keep himself busy. Then he renovated the old barn as best as he could and bought three goats to sell their meat, but once he saw them in their pen, he decided they weren't going to the slaughter house and kept them for their milk instead. He also fixed up the orchard as best as he could and started collecting the apples. Soon the onslaught of apples was too much for him to handle and so he collected them in a few boxes, along with the chicken eggs and sold them to the nearest farm. Surprisingly, the people around town started knowing him once he started visiting the farm more frequently. He would have regular conversations with some of them and at some point, even started looking forward to see them. He didn't go to the town hall meetings, or to Sunday mass, and the people had been weary of him, but once they saw him with his dog and the boxes of apples in his trunk, they warmed up to him.

He enjoyed his new life. It wasn't luxurious, but that wasn't what he wanted for himself anyway. He was no Miguel Angel. He didn't need a fleet of private planes and a couple of hotels to be happy.

The phone rang again and reminded him of his current situation. The dog had stopped wagging it's tail on the couch beside him and was looking at him with his one eye, almost as if he was saying "what are you waiting for?"

And so Walt picked up the phone, fully expecting Jamie or Ed or someone else from the DEA to yell at him to get his ass back to Mexico.

"Hello... is this Walt Breslin?" The phone slipped from his grasp and fell, he caught it in his suddenly sweaty palms, pressing the shell back against his ear. Three years silence could not erase the memory of that voice. Hushed conversations between them, hiding behind a parked car as they watched over a suspect, a gasp and then a low moan, while Walt kept hitting that one spot inside him, that set Sal's body on fire, a chatty conversation over two mugs of steaming coffee in a diner that ended with both of them laughing hysterically. Walt had enough memories for an entire lifetime with that voice, he would recognize it anywhere.

"Sal-" He breathed, rearranging the phone against his ear.

"Is- Walt is that you? Oh my god- fuck- I found you!" There was a short pause on the other end of the phone and for a moment Walt thought he was imagining things, then Sal's voice returned. "I- I'm sorry, Walt. I'm so sorry-" He sobbed, apologizing over and over.

"Sal- How did you find me? Wh- Are you alright? Is- do you need help?"

"No, no, I'm fine, Walt. I am. I just- fuck- I missed you so much. Where are you? I called you're old address so many times- I thought something happened to you…"

"Shh, I'm okay. I'm in Colorado. Small town near Denver. I'll give you the address… That is… If you want me to…"

"Yes! I mean... yes I want- I want to see you. If that's okay. I need to- need to know you're okay."

He contemplated with himself wether to ask this or not, but in the end, Walt did it anyways. "It's been three years, Sal. Why did you never call? What's changed?" Another sobb from the other end of the line. "I'll tell you. In person. Friday? Is that okay for you?" Walt squinted at his calendar. Friday was in two days, he needed to clean the house, buy some groceries and pack the car for Sunday's apple delivery.

"Yeah, Friday works."

"Alright. I'll see you on Friday… Walt… I missed you."

"… Missed you too Sal."

He put the phone down slowly, feeling like he was still in a dream. The dog had noticed something was off about his behavior and was staring at him in concern. " 's alright bud, I'm just… surprised, is all. We'll meet a friend of mine on Friday. I hope you'll like him…"

Lost in his thoughts, Walt began his evening routine, closing the chicken pen, checking on the goats and refilling the dogs food in case he got hungry during the night, only when the brown cibbles hit the kitchen tiles did he notice his thoughts slipping off. The only thing on his mind was Sal. Sal with his kind face and the warm, dark brown eyes, Sal wrapping an arm around his hips and pulling him closer, Sal whispering into Walt's ear. A hushed love confession neither of them dared to talk about. So, so many memories they shared between them, how was he supposed to wait any longer to see him again?

Friday couldn't come soon enough.

[lostinyourears]

Universal Championship Tournament Primer 2019 Edition

If you are unaware what the Universal Championship Tournament is, it’s an annual tournament since 2009(except 2018 for whatever reason) where all the champions of CMLL fight in 2 blocks of 1 fall single elimination matches. 

8 people in each of the 2 blocks. 

7 matches in each of the 2 blocks which lead to 1 finalist for each block.

Those 2 finals meeting in a 2/3 falls finals.

Block A(pictured below) will be on the 1st.

Block B(remaining 8 men announced/shown in the 2nd picture) on the 8th.

Final 2/3 falls match to Crown the 2019 Universal Champion on the 15th. 

Here is the poster for Block 1 which will include the 8 talents listed on the far left and right. CMLL normally do a seeding battle royal to randomize the seed for the tournament. First 2 thrown out are round 1, then 3rd/4th thrown out, then 5th/6th with the 2 survivors being the final 1st round of that block. 

I’m going to go over each talent and give a brief explanation of their belt/history/chance, going left to right in the picture above. Dragon Lee is last as he isn’t photographed here, but is expected to be in the tournament/is already announced to be in Block A

Everyone will have an (A) or (B) next to their name with the A being 1st, B being on the 8th and the Finals between those two block finalists facing each other on the 15th in a 2/3 falls finals.

Diamante Azul(B)

Current belt :  CMLL World Tag Team Championship(along with Valiente who is pictured closer to the middle), they captured the titles at a Sunday Arena Mexico(November 29th 2018) show from ingobernables Rush & Terrible. Azul/Valiente only have 1 defense which was recent, at the 01/29/2019 Arena Coliseo Guadalajara show, just 3 days before the 1st block of this tournament.

74 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Diamante Azul has been fairly strong recently. In 2017 he headlined and won at Homage to 2 Legends. Unmasking Rush/Dragon Lee/Mistico’s father Bestia del Ring who at the time was going by Pierroth... not the famous Pierroth Jr. from the 1980′s/1990′s who is most associated with that name. The match wasn’t great, but a mask is a mask and headlining H2L is a big deal as that’s their 2nd big event behind CMLL Anniversary. 

Homage to 2 Legends always in March and CMLL Anniversary always in September(Will reference these a lot)

In Fall of 2017 Diamante Azul would also be the man to win Gran Prix for Team Mexico. In 2018′s he was a big roadblock for eventual winner Michael Elgin who Azul in 2017, last pinned to win the match.

Most recently he is in a tag team with Valiente and they have the top tag team belt in the company. The Coliseo Tag Championship which are the B belts, weren’t included in this tournament of champions(Triton/Esfinge).

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Mid, has never won this tournament so he has a decent chance of making it to the finals. Still, out of all the choices for finalists he is one of the least exciting ones for me. 

Valiente is in Block A(February 1st) while Azul is in Block B(February 8th), so we could get a tag team finals, I’d hope not because Azul/Valiente haven’t really earned a who’s the better man? Team finals which we got in 2016′s Universal Finals with Valiente/Volador Jr. 

Soberano Jr.(B)

Current belt :  Mexican National Welterweight Championship, captured on the May 12th, 2017, Super Friday from Rey Cometa. Has successfully defended it 5 times since then vs. Barbaro Cavernario, Sanson, Magia Blanca, And Titan in all 3 main places CMLL operate : Mexico City, Puebla & Guadalajara. One of those defences being in  Korakuen Hall during 2018′s Fantastica Mania.

629 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Winning the  Mexican National Welterweight Championship was part of the strong 2017 push both Soberano Jr. & Sanson had. Both being in the finals of La Copa Jr. & Gran Alternative, both of which Soberano Jr. won helping elevate him into a serious threat. Soberano Jr. doesn’t have any rivals set in stone, but did have an off again/on again rivalry with both Sanson and Barbaro Cavernario.

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : High in both regards, because Soberano Jr. is on a upswing momentum wise. He is arguably the best champion at the moment. His title defenses have been a highlight of CMLL since I started this blog. I’d bet money on Soberano Jr., but he isn’t the only strong champion in CMLL as of late. 

Niebla Roja(B) 

Current belt :  CMLL World Light Heavyweight Championship, captured on a non televised Saturday show in the Coliseo Mexico City arena. It was a 10 man elimination match to crown the vacant championship to someone after previous champion La Mascara was fired for vandalising Ultimo Guerreros car. 

600 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Niebla Roja lost his mask to Gran Guerrero in the main event of CMLL 84th Anniversary of 2017. Which happened after he refused to take orders to beat down his brother Angel de Oro, effectively turning tecnico/face in the process and leaving his rudo/heel stable Los Guerreros Laguneros(which Ultimo is the leader of and Gran is a part of)

Since losing his mask, Niebla Roja has won Furia Roja & Rey Bucanero hairs in hair vs. hair matches. His brother(Angel de Oro) lost his mask in Spring of 2018 at Homage to 2 Legends, since then the two have been seen more often teaming together, but before hand hadn’t been strangers either. 

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Low/mid, Niebla Roja seems popular and can be strong. He just isn’t as hyped as many of the young rudos/heels. Still he has never won it, so giving him this accolade wouldn’t put him far above anyone else. Most likely pairing for him would seemingly be Gran Guerrero who is in Block A(1st) to him in Block B(8th)

Volador Jr.(B) 

Current belt : NWA World Historic Welterweight Championship, captured on August 3rd, 2018, Super Friday which was also Negro Casas’ 40th Anniversary Show. Defeating Matt Taven who has won it from Volador Jr. a few months earlier on March 30th, 2018. So really Matt Taven was a stopgap for Volador Jr. holding this belt too long in 1 reign having amassed 1,337 days in his 2nd reign with this title, his first being 199 days(His current/3rd reign will surpass this by tournaments end). So far Volador Jr. has only defended his belt once(this reign) vs. Barbaro Cavernario on October 8th, 2018′s Arena Puebla Show.

181 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Guys like Volador Jr. are why I put a recent caveat on this category. Being in CMLL since 2001, Volador Jr. has done nearly everything a luchador can do in CMLL. Recently he’s won the last Universal Championship Tournament back in 2017, 2017′s Leyenda de Plata, 2017′s Incredible Pairs teaming with rudo/heel Barbaro Cavernario, 2018/2016′s Torneo Gran Alternativa, 2016′s(the year it was revived) Gran Prix, 2015/2016′s Homage to 2 Legends Main Events and with Mistico/Valiente had the longest CMLL Trios Title Reign in that belt’s history 1,234 days.

These are just his most recent accolades and gives you a scope of how big he has been in CMLL recently. Of course before all this he lost his mask to La Sombra in the feud of 2013 which culminated in the CMLL 80th Anniversary Main Event. While more recently in 2017 his feud with Caristico was one of the biggest stories of that year. 

Volador Jr.’s most recent story is about losing his belt to Taven, winning it back and oddly enough teaming with Taven at CMLL 85th Anniversary. Where both lost their hair vs. hair tag team match to Rush/Barbaro.The most humiliating defeat for Volador Jr... since losing his belt to Taven for the summer.

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Good/Very good, while it’s true Volador Jr. has won this tournament once and him winning would boost him to 2 to be the only other man on Ultimo Guerrero’s level. Volador Jr. is basically the ace of CMLL. So him doing that can’t be ruled out. Most obvious final for Volador would be Caristico, since Volador/Ultimo are in Block B and can’t both go to the finals. Barbaro Cavernario who shave Volador Jr. a few months back would be a good Final for Volador Jr. as well.

Caristico(A)

Current belt :  NWA World Historic Middleweight Championship, captured on August 21st, 2018 on a Guadalajara Show. Defeating career rival Ultimo Guerrero ending his 1,086 day reign.

163 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades : As mentioned just above one of 2017′s big rivalries for CMLL was Caristico vs. Volador Jr. : The two met in Leyenda de Plata’s finals, Caristico challenged for Volador Jr.’s NWA WH Welterweight belt and One match even being the last main event of 2017 for CMLL.

Caristico’s only real accolade since coming back other than his current belt is winning 2017′s Gran Alternative with Soberano Jr. those two last meeting Ultimo Guerrero/Sanson in the finals.

/stories :

A story going on with Caristico since his return to CMLL in 2015 is... having no friends or allies. Caristico of course was one of the hottest guys in lucha and really more broadly wrestling history with his 1st run in CMLL(2004-2011) before he’d go on to be Sin Cara in WWE for a few years then as Myzteziz in AAA before coming back to CMLL, after those two pretty poor runs. 

Well Volador Jr. hates him because he left, Mistico(II) hates him because he sorta lives in Caristico’s shadow, with Mistico(II)’s hate comes the hate of his brother Dragon Lee. So that’s like 3 of the big tecnico roster members who he could normally count on as allies, that don’t like him at all. 

This came to a head on April 2nd, 2018 when despite being tecnico he teamed with Gran/Ultimo Guerrero to challenge for the CMLL Trios Champions Mistico/Volador Jr./Valiente were holding.

So Caristico is a good guy/tecnico/face atm, but him having no allies might eventually see him seek asylum or at some point start a tecnico faction so someone will have his back. 2017/2018 seemed like years CMLL was finally letting Caristico get out of his leaving for WWE doghouse. This win would be proof positive that Caristico is finally in CMLL’s good graces again.

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Very Good, Caristico has never won this event as it debut in 2009(he left in 2011). So he wasn’t around for half of them. This seems like an accolade Caristico will accomplish in his career, but at 36 and not showing much signs of age... it’s not like it’s now or never. Most likely final for him seems to be Volador Jr.

Stuka Jr.(A) 

Current belt : NWA World Historic Light Heavyweight Championship, captured August 14th, 2018. He defeated Hechicero ending his 650 day reign. This is the 1st singles title in CMLL for Stuka Jr., who has more often been part of trios/tag championship teams.

170 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Stuka Jr. is the oldest man covered so far here(not by much) at 39. Despite that he is less decorated. A company workhorse so to speak, his biggest accolade is being the longest reigning Coliseo Tag Title Champion along side Fuego holding it 1,708 days, but this is a B Tag Title behind CMLL World Tag Champions. 

Still losing those belts to Okumura/Namajague(aka NJPW’s Desperado) in 2013 lead Stuka Jr. to his highest profile victory when he and partner Rey Cometa won a lucha de apuestas over Okumura/Namajague in the main event of 2013′s Homage to 2 Legends. Making Okumura shave and Namajague unmask.

Stuka Jr. won his current title from Hechicero who has even come back to challenge for it again to a losing effort. Don’t see that playing a role here, because Hechicero isn’t in this tournament and CMLL don’t really do run ins.

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Low, Stuka Jr. is a great talent and champion, but not likely to win this or go to the finals. He just isn’t a star that CMLL push too hard. He could win as a workhorse accolade. Finally winning the big one, but this doesn’t feel like his year, given he has little buzz or momentum coming into this. I think he could have a good match given anyone in the finals.  

Valiente(A)

Current belt :  CMLL World Tag Team Championship(along with Diamante Azul who is on the far left), they captured the titles at a Sunday Arena Mexico(November 29th 2018) show from ingobernables Rush & Terrible. Azul/Valiente only have 1 defense vs Rush/Bestia del Ring which was recent, at the 01/29/2019 Arena Coliseo Guadalajara show, just 3 days before the 1st block of this tournament.

74 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Just like Stuka Jr. a large chunk of Valiente’s career is on gold holding teams. Valiente is now the oldest person covered here at 44. 

As mentioned in Volador’s section above Valentine/Volador/Mistico have the longest CMLL World Trios Reign. Before Volador though Mistico and Valiente had a another long reign with Mascara Dorada. Making Mistico/Valiente tied at 4th for most days with the CMLL trios title. They both only have 2 reigns though with the 3 names above them having 3/4/5 reigns. 

Valiente has only held 1 singles title, Mexican National Welterweight Championship he had a nearly 700 day reign with that belt. The longest since he has held the title in 2009-2011, but Soberano Jr. is quickly catching up to him. 

Biggest accolade of recent memory is winning 2016′s Universal Tournament. Finals which were held on a Day of the Dead show. Trios Champion Valiente vs. Trios + Welterweight Champion Volador Jr. 2/3 of the Trios Champions and obvious favorite Volador Jr. lost to Valiente. 

Volador Jr./Valiente won a tournament whose finals were at Homage to 2 Legends(March 16th, 2018) beating Terrible/Rey Bucanero to win the CMLL Tag Team Championships only to have Terrible come back with Rush to dethrone them, then of course Valiente/Azul got them back. 

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Low, Valiente won recently and like Stuka Jr. is more of a utility player than the top champion of CMLL. If he were going to the finals Azul/Volador Jr. seem the most obvious, but they did Volador/Valiente in 2016, so would arguably be one of the weakest finals they could book even if the story makes sense on paper.

Mephisto(B)

Current belt : CMLL World Welterweight Championship, captured the title May 4th, 2016 from Mascara Dorada(aka WWE’s Gran Metalik), who had held the title for 103 days.

1,003 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : In 2016 Mephisto won with Incredible Pairs with Mistico over Caristico/Cibernetico in the finals. Which gave us these cool ass Mistico/Mephisto masks.

Past that tournament win, Mephisto has carried various singles belts, tag belts, and trios titles. Mephisto is leader of Los Hijos del Infierno with Luciferno/Ephesto. They lost the Mexican National Trios Championship on July 25, 2017 in Guadalajara to NGD(Sanson, Cuatrero & Forastero), who are all in the tournament thanks to that title. 

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Mid, Mephisto has never won. That’s good for him because it wouldn’t catapult him above many. Instead it would just solify him as someone in the 1 time winners level. With Hijos del Infierno being one of the weaker looking rudo factions right now, a Mephisto boost would help solidify them as a force and Mephisto eventually dropping his belt an even bigger deal than it already is. Best finals for Mephisto? Caristico, I suppose though as a faction leader Mephisto would be a good boss level threat for anyone in Block A.

Barbaro Cavernario(A)

Current belt :  Mexican National Light Heavyweight Championship, captured the title on November 6th, 2018 from Atlantis ending his 1,170 day reign. Atlantis is a legend and this may be his last singles title. Barbaro winning it is a big changing of the guard, even if it happened at a none Arena Mexico show with less people catching it.

86 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : This is his 2nd title reign, his first and only other title held was the Mexican National Welterweight Championship for 404 days. He dropped that title to Rey Cometa who Barbaro Cavernario shaved in both 2014(Anniversary)/2016(Gran Prix). Speaking of shavings he also recently won the CMLL 85th Anniversary Main Event with Rush shaving both Volador Jr./Matt Taven, the biggest win of Barbaro’s career.

Barbaro Cavernario has had more luck in tournaments than most, winning In En Busca de un Ídolo(Search of an Idol) in 2014,  Reyes del Aire in 2016,  Leyenda de Plata in 2018, Gran Alternativa in 2014(with Mr. Niebla) and Incredible Pairs in 2017(with Volador Jr.).

I consider Leyenda de Plata/Gran Alternative/Increible Pairs and the Universal Championship Tournament to be CMLL’s Big 4 Tournaments. So if Barbaro Cavernario could pull it off, it would put him in CMLL’s elite class. 

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : High, Barbaro Cavernario is coming into this tournament with a heap of momentum. He has also never won it and being a 1 time winner of Plata isn’t going to make him too big. Still, Plata/85th Anniversary wins were about 2 months apart and only about 3-4 months removed. So there is good reason to think Barbaro doesn’t need this win to stay hot. Him being a finalist would be a great pairing for any and all Block B finalists to take on and beat as a final boss.

Ultimo Guerrero(B)

Current belt : CMLL World Heavyweight Champions, captured on October 16, 2018. Diamante Azul/Ultimo Guerrero survived an 8 man elimination torneo to be the finalists the week prior. In the 2/3 falls finals Ultimo beat Azul to be crowned new champion after Marco Corleone vacated the belt to leave wrestling for now.  

107 days with belt(as of this writing)

& CMLL World Trios Champions(with Gran Guerrero & Euforia), captured on September 28, 2018 from The Cl4n (Ciber the Main Man, The Chris and Sharlie Rockstar), who held the belts for a weak 14 days winning it from Los Guerreros Laguneros at CMLL 85th Anniversary.

125 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Ultimo, like Volador Jr. above has done pretty much everything. Before this Heavyweight Title he was the Light Heavyweight champion. As leader of Los Guerrero Laguneros, Ultimo Guerrero has been in many many storylines fighting various tecnicos. 

Leyenda de Azul in 2016, Gran Alternativa in 1999/2008/2011,Gran Prix in 2006/2007, and has held the CMLL Tag Titles 6 times and CMLL Trios Titles 5 times tied for most reigns with Negro Casas(tag) and Hector Garza(trios). 

It’s likely his number of reigns will pass them, as Negro Casas is near retirement and over 20 years older and Hector Garza has passed away.

Templario has been added to Los Guerreros Laguneros and there has been some rumors of Euforia perhaps leaving the ranks of that group. While Euphoria has a trios title, he isn’t included in this tournament. Unlike Gran/Ultimo who are related, not sure if that would/could play into this tournament at all.

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Mid, but never count out Ultimo Guerrero. Just like Volador Jr., if included Ultimo can win. He is the big bad and shows no signs of slowing down.  

Gran Guerrero(A)

Current belt : CMLL World Trios Champions(with Ultimo Guerrero & Euforia), captured on September 28, 2018 from The Cl4n (Ciber the Main Man, The Chris and Sharlie Rockstar) who held the belts for a weak 14 days winning it from Los Guerreros Laguneros at CMLL 85th Anniversary.

125 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Gran along with all of Los Guerrero Laguneros feuded over the last summer/fall with The Cl4n. It was a series of Okay matches carried by Los Guerrero Laguneros. Before that in fall of 2017 he unmasked Niebla Roja in the main event of CMLL 84th Anniversary. Which is still his biggest win to date. Unmasking Niebla Roja, the defector from Los Guerreros Laguneros who was still using an Ultimo Guerrero inspired mask design.

Pictured below : Ultimo/Niebla Roja facing off on the CMLL interview stage after signing their mask vs. mask match contract.

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Dark Horse, having spent most of 2018 as a team player in Los Guerreros Laguneros this win would establish Gran Guerrero as a threat again. Either to unmask someone, win a singles title or just be more of a big deal in general. Niebla Roja and his older brother(maybe real life father) Ultimo Guerrero are both in Block B and potential finalists that would be a good storyline fit for Gran Guerrero. Families normally don’t fight in CMLL, so Gran/Ultimo Guerrero would be very very unlikely.  

El Terrible(A)

Current belt : Mexican National Heavyweight Championship, captured on October 29, 2017, in a tournament to crown the vacant championship by last defeating Diamante Azul, just like Ultimo with the CMLL Heavyweight a year or so later. This belt was vacant from 2013, until this time, retired for a short time when it’s holding champion Hector Garza passed away.

459 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Terrible quietly has one of the best resumes in CMLL. Leyenda de Azul in 2008, Gran Alternativa in 2012(with Euforia), Increible pairs in 2015/2018 the latter of which lead to him joining ingobernables with Rush and his father Bestia del Ring. 

This is his 2nd Heavyweight Title in CMLL, the 1st he won by last beating Rush in a 2012 tournament to crown the vacant champion. That would spark the feud that lead to 2012′s CMLL 79th Anniversary Main Event where Rush would beat Terrible to shave him. One of both men’s biggest moments. 

It was Terrible’s 1st Lucha de Apuestas loss, a record which has further been blemished by a loss in Homage to 2 Legends 2015 Main Event with Rey Bucanero vs. Volador Jr./Maximo Sexy making his total record 6-2.

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Dark Horse again, he isn’t as likely as Gran because he has already won this once in 2012. To win again would push him above everyone, but Ultimo Guerrero. Still that’s a story you could work with if you paired him with Volador Jr. who has also won once. Volador Jr. shaved him, but Terribles tag mate/leader Rush shaved Volador Jr. recently. Volador was also cheated out of Incredible Pairs 2018 by Rush/Terrible. So that pairing has the most history(for Terrible) and would see both men looking to win their 2nd Universal Tournament.

Forastero(A)

Current belt :  Mexican National Trios Championship(with Sanson & Cuatrero), captured on July 25, 2017 from Los Hijos del Infierno in Guadalajara, Jalisco

555 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Forastero is basically the 3rd man of his faction NGD, being cousin to the brothers Sanson/Cuatrero who are both sons of legend Cien Caras. 2019 could be Forastero’s breakout year, but thus far he is unproven in singles like his cousins. 

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Very Low, Forastero just isn’t proven as a singles guy. Even getting to the finals seems unlikely and I don’t even know who’d be a good pair for him. I suppose his cousins? Though CMLL is known for not making family fight that often. 

Cuatrero(B)

Current belt : Mexican National Trios Championship(with Sanson & Cuatrero), captured on July 25, 2017 from Los Hijos del Infierno in Guadalajara, Jalisco  

555 days with belt(as of this writing)

&  CMLL World Middleweight Championship, captured January 19, 2018 from Angel de Oro ending his 300 day reign in Japan at Fantastica Mania.

377 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : 2018 for Cuatrero was all about beating down Angel de Oro and proving himself as a singles competitor like his Brother Sanson had the year prior in 2017. He defended again vs. Angel de Oro twice and Titan at a Day of the Dead show, some of the best matches in CMLL for 2018. Cuatrero did so good in 2018 that Sanson went from obvious leader of NGD to basically on par with his brother. Lots of people who didn’t see Sanson in 2017 even thinking of Cuatrero as the leader. 

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Very High, Cuatrero had a magnificent 2018. Better than everyone else in the tournament except Barbaro Cavernario who is also a bit more established. Cuatrero vs. Caristico/Dragon Lee/Barbaro Cavernario from Block A would all be very exciting pairings.

Sanson(B)

Current belt : Mexican National Trios Championship(with Sanson & Cuatrero), captured on July 25, 2017 from Los Hijos del Infierno in Guadalajara, Jalisco  

555 days with belt(as of this writing)

Rey del Inframundo(King of the Underworld) Championship, captured November 3, 2017 in an 4 on 4 elimination match to crown the inaugural Rey del Inframundo Champion. This is a trophy belt and probably not why Sanson is in this tournament. He successfully defended this belt vs. Templario at the November 2, 2018 Day of the Dead show. It’ll likely get defended annually like this on yearly Day of the Dead shows.

454 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : As mentioned above Soberano Jr. & Sanson had a big push which saw both being in the finals of La Copa Jr. & Gran Alternative, both of which Soberano Jr. won helping elevate him into a serious threat. Sanson got his win back by getting the King of the Underworld Title in a match that Soberano Jr. also took part in. 

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Likely, He and Cuatrero are pretty even I’d be surprised if one of them didn’t make it to their block final on the 8th. Unlike Forastero who on the 1st of February may not make it past the 1st round depending on who he’s unluckily enough to face off against in his stacked block, though both blocks are tough, individually both Sanson/Cuatrero are tougher than Forastero.

Best pairings for Sanson are the same as Cuatrero. Niebla Roja would be good for both as well. Sanson has had title matches for Roja’s single titles and Angel de Oro is Niebla Roja’s brother who Cuatrero destroyed various times in 2018. 

Dragon Lee(A)

Current belt :  CMLL World Lightweight Championship, captured on March 4th, 2016 in Arena Mexico from Kamaitachi(Hiromu Takahashi) ending his 40 day transitional reign which started at 2016′s Fantastica Mania. 

1,063 days with belt(as of this writing)

Recent accolades/stories : Dragon Lee won 2018′s King of the Indies Tournament, 2019′s Fantastica Mania family tournament, and has 2 masks under his name taking Kamaitachi’s mask at Homage to 2 Legends in 2015 and La Mascara’s mask at CMLL 83rd Anniversary in 2016. La Mascara is no longer in the company, but was a part of Rush’s Ingobernables stable at the time of his mask loss to Dragon Lee. 

Dragon Lee was away a good chunk of 2018 to do a reality TV Show in Mexico and BOSJ over in NJPW. His most recent story is Pentagon/Fenix beating him up post match... seemingly setting a feud up. Dragon Lee and his brothers Rush/Mistico will likely fight Pentagon/Fenix down the line. 

Likelihood of getting to the finals/winning : Likely, I could certainly see Dragon Lee going to the finals even if it’s to lose to Sanson/Cuatrero. Dragon Lee/Rush will seemingly be working more dates in RoH come 2019. With that being the case I could see CMLL holding this win from him. Still seeing Dragon Lee in the finals just seems right. If he can get past Caristico/Barbaro who are the other two high chance people in Block A upcoming on February 1st.

TL;DR I know this is long, but there are 16 people to cover with various histories. I’d suggest reading the people marked with A’s before the A Block coming up on the 1st and holding B’s for next week when we are rolling up on Block B. 

[boiledleather]

“Narcos: Mexico” thoughts, Season One, Episode Ten: “Leyenda”

Written by co-creator Carlo Bernard and directed by series mainstay Andrés Baiz, this tenth and final episode of the show’s first season recognizes that Narcos is always at its best when it’s simultaneously at its most elegiac and most cynical. The last time it reached that point was the finale for Season Two, a dreamlike affair in which Pablo Escobar meditated on his lost family and friends in the final hours before he was hunted down and slaughtered like a rabid dog by American and Mexican agents who posed for photos with his dead body. “Leyenda” pulls off a similar trick, alternating the sorrow of Kiki’s widow with the cunning of his nemesis, turning Don Neto’s arrest into a slo-mo music video as directed by Sam Peckinpah, short-circuiting our expectation that the cartel’s management would turn over by staging a literal army invasion of its board of directors, transforming Félix’s darkest hour into his hour of triumph, and finally revealing that when the United States finally did get around to calling in the cavalry, they’re a crew of stone-cold killers operating out of an RV and a surfer hotel.

I reviewed the season finale of Narcos: Mexico for Decider. Not bad.

[quiredaragoff]

Operation Highjump: The Fall of Berlin logra financiarse

Operation Highjump: The Fall of Berlin logra financiarse

Operation Highjump: The Fall of Berlin, del estudio español Mansion Games, superó en menos de 12 horas su mínimo para financiarse a través de Kickstarter. Ahora, una semana después, ya triplica la cifra. Basado en leyendas de la Segunda Guerra Mundial, este juego 2D que fusiona el frenetismo y plataformeo de los run&gun clásicos con la narrativa y puzzles de las video-aventuras, rinde homenaje a…

[sonsofks]

2D Shooter/Platformer Operation Highjump: The Fall of Berlin llega a KickStarter el 26 de abril

2D Shooter/Platformer Operation Highjump: The Fall of Berlin llega a KickStarter el 26 de abril

“A la hora de la verdad, el valiente da un paso adelante” Madrid, España – 13 de abril de 2022. El editor Meridiem Games y el desarrollador de juegos independientes Mansion Games confirmaron hoy que Operation Highjump: The Fall of Berlin lanzará su campaña de Kickstarter el 26 de abril de 2022. Operación Highjump: The Fall of Berlin se basa en leyendas de la Segunda Guerra Mundial y rinde…

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

After Tonight

Pairing: Ossie Mejía x Reader

Summary: "At any moment you would wake up, find yourself alone in the dark, tallying another night without him beside you."

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/notes: HE’S MY BABY, OKAY There is something very terrifying about writing for a character that doesn’t have a lot of content; this will probably get like five notes but I DON’T CARE it’s completely and utterly self-indulgent; this isn't related to the snippet I posted the other day, I actually had this sitting in my drafts for a bit; language; FLUFF because Ossie deserves softness; some sensuality; implied sexual activity; based off of this dialogue prompt; if you’re on the taglist it’s because you indulged me, if you don’t want to be, let me know. Excuse me, I’m gonna go hide now. 

Word count: 1153

You folded your keys back in your hand and turned the knob, pushing the door open. Letting out a deep sigh, you stepped into the darkness of the entryway and dropped your bag on the floor. Your keys clattered into the bowl that sat on the table near the door. 

“You have got to stop breaking into my house,” you said into the darkness. 

“I wouldn’t have to, if you’d just give me a key.” Ossie’s voice floated out to you from the living room. You could hear the smile in it. You pictured him sitting on the couch, his ankle resting on his knee, arm stretched out over the back, casual as ever. You stepped into the doorway of the living room and leaned against the wall. He was exactly as you pictured him and you could just make out half of his face in the dim light from a streetlamp. 

“I believe I also told you to get a better lock,” he said. 

“You don’t call, you don’t write,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest and playing with the pendant at the end of your necklace. You fought the urge to cross the room and settle yourself on his lap, curl your fingers in his hair. He glanced down at his hand, tapping his knee with his fingers.

“It wasn’t safe,” Ossie replied, his voice soft.

“Well then it probably isn’t safe for you to be here.” You pushed away from the wall and headed for the bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights. You needed to stop looking at him. It had started to rain and you opened the window in your bedroom, inhaling the warm, fresh scent. You slipped off your pants and dug through your dresser, looking for pajamas. Ossie’s hand brushed your waist and you stilled, feeling his chest press gently into your back. A flutter started in your stomach, and you couldn’t stop your heart from racing. It had been too long since he’d touched you. Ossie curled his fingers under the collar of your shirt and tugged it aside so he could place a warm kiss on your shoulder while his other hand tickled its way up the skin of your outer thigh. You released a shaky breath, letting your body relax against his. 

“Ossie,” you whispered, sweeping your fingers into his hair as he pressed hot open-mouthed kisses along your neck. “That’s not fair.” Ossie chuckled and you gasped at the feeling of the heat of his breath on your wet skin. You turned, pushing him back toward the bed. He fell back onto it, having been caught off-guard. 

“I’m supposed to be mad at you,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Does your pussy know that?” Ossie said, smirking. 

“You can go fuck yourself,” you said, starting to walk away. Ossie sprang up from the bed and you ran, laughing as he chased you down the hallway. Before you could reach the living room he caught you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. You shrieked and giggled in his embrace and let him turn you, pin you against the wall. His lips joined yours in a breathless kiss, his hand curling around your cheek. You slid your hand up his arm, bringing it to rest over his slender fingers as Ossie left kisses on the tip of your nose and your forehead. You turned your head, your lips pressing into the palm of his hand. 

“I love you,” Ossie whispered. You blinked up at him in surprise, your hand starting to slip from his. Ossie caught it and you felt him press something small and cool into your palm. You looked down, still wrapping your head around his words, and saw a gold band resting in your hand. 

“This is...you love me and this is…” Ossie chuckled and took the ring from you, sliding it on the ring finger of your left hand. 

“You know what this means, right?” you asked. “A ring on this finger? That’s where the whole ‘til death do us part’ bit comes in, you’re prepared for that?” Your heart was fluttering in your chest, the word ‘marriage’ too much for you to manage. At any moment you would wake up, find yourself alone in the dark, tallying another night without him beside you. “This means you can’t just disappear when shit hits the fan, either.” Ossie had been watching you work through everything, a broad smile brightening his face. 

“I know what marrying you means,” he said, and your breath caught at the word, warm tears building behind your eyelids. “So am I gonna hear a yes, or an I love you, too? Anything?” Your chest caved in a chuckle and you grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him close, your free hand guiding his around your waist before curling in the soft dark hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered, smiling against his lips. You kissed him, your fingers working at the buttons of his shirt, needing him close. 

“So is that a yes?” Ossie asked as you let him tug your shirt up over your head. He tossed the fabric aside and turned his attention to your neck. 

“God, yes, Ossie!” you said, tilting your head back to laugh. 

Your fingers curled around the bedsheets and you opened your eyes to the dark. Rain pattered against the window and a streak of lightning illuminated the room, revealing the empty space next to you. It took you a moment to wipe away the cobwebs in your brain.

“I can’t stay the night,” Ossie whispered. Your head rested on his chest and his fingers played with your hair, his touch like a lullaby. 

“Ossie,” you grumbled sleepily.

“I’m sorry, baby, there’s a job tonight.” You felt Ossie press a kiss to the top of your head and you hummed against his skin, wanting to argue, to find a way to convince him to stay, but fuck you were so tired, and the rain was so nice, and his touch was so soft.

“Things will be different after tonight, I promise,” he whispered.

“They better be, mister.” The words barely made it past your lips, your eyelids shut, too heavy to open. You felt a chuckle pass through him. 

You buried your face in the pillow that was still creased from where his head had lain, breathing in his scent. You hugged it close, rolling back over, and laughed to yourself, remembering the moment in the hallway. It was still impossible to believe and you found yourself turning on your bedside lamp so you could see the ring, proving to yourself it had really happened. You switched off the lamp and settled back into the bed, thinking of all the mornings you would finally get to have, imagining the way the sunlight would fall across his skin. 

Taglist: @thesolotomyhan @loveyhoneydovey @arellanofelixboys @breadbed @massivecolorspygiant

[marketreseach]

Palm Acid Oil Market By Production And Top Suppliers forecast 2020 to 2026: Leyenda-Ind, LIMA group, Future Prelude Sdn Bhd, Tanimas Group

The global research report titled “Palm Acid Oil Market” has recently been published by The Research Insights which helps to provide guidelines for the businesses. It has been aggregated based on different key pillars of businesses such as drivers, restraints, and global opportunities. This Palm Acid Oil Market research report has been compiled by using primary and secondary research techniques. Finally, researchers direct their focus on some significant points to give a gist about investment, profit margin, and revenue.

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The report presents the market competitive landscape and a corresponding detailed analysis of the major vendor/key players in the market. Top Companies in the Global Palm Acid Oil Market: Leyenda-Ind, LIMA group, Future Prelude Sdn Bhd, Tanimas Group, PT. Global Mandiri Sentosa, Kurnia Sari Utama, Bio Energy Global Solutions, Pt Energy Feeds Indonesia, Bathich Group, YAHAR, Inter-Trade Solutions

This report segments the global Palm Acid Oil Market based on Types are:

PAO Yellowish

PAO Yellowish Brown

PAO Brownish

Based on Application, the Global Palm Acid Oil Market is segmented into:

Laundry Soap

Animal Feed

Bio-Fuel, Bio-Diesel Production

Methyl Ester

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Regional analysis of Global Palm Acid Oil Market:

Geographically, the global Palm Acid Oil Market has been fragmented into several regions such as North America, Latin America, Asia-Pacific, Africa, and Europe based on the productivity of several companies. Every segment along with its sub-segments is analyzed in the research report. The competitive landscape of the market has been elaborated by studying numerous factors such as top manufacturers, prices, and revenue.

The information on the global Palm Acid Oil Market is accessible to readers in a logical chapter-wise format. Driving and restraining factors have been listed in this research report, which helps to understand positive and negative aspects in front of the businesses.

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What are the market factors that are explained in the report?

-Key Strategic Developments: The Palm Acid Oil Market study also includes the key strategic developments of the market, comprising R&D, new product launch, M&A, agreements, collaborations, partnerships, joint ventures, and regional growth of the leading competitors operating in the market on a global and regional scale.

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[cregan-starks]

Beholden ch3 sneak peek

Words: 466

Warnings: mention of kidnapping, mention of death, implied sexism, smoking, cussing. Under no circumstances can you copy, plagiarize, steal my work, or post it somewhere else!

Notes: Life’s busy, but I am, in fact, working on the third chapter. Thank you for your patience.

          Worse, the men tasked with bringing Gallardo to justice didn’t even give a shit about Kiki. Magnussen gritted her teeth in frustration. She had taken Leyenda’s pulse, and she had been left rather disappointed. How was she supposed to work with them? Petski was auditioning to be a mime, Mejía was an arrogant toe, Méndez and Álvarez were yes-minions, Orozco was Breslin’s mustached parrot, Garza’s favorite hobby was waterboarding – or spitting on puppies – Palacios hadn’t developed a personality yet, and Breslin was a narrow-minded redneck. He probably wouldn’t budge on the Azul situation. Typical Yankee; loved to hear himself speak, rejected anyone else’s input. Whatever. Magnussen was too woman for her opinion to matter. Morales had been the only one whom she had genuinely liked. At least he had had the decency to introduce himself and welcome her to the team… although, as far as Magnussen was concerned, he must have had ulterior motives, too. Severe lack of trust among coworkers. Off to a great start…

          Give it time, she reasoned. Loosen some of that Eastern European pessimism. Magnussen dropped her cigarette on the ground, instinctively moving her foot to put it out before pausing in realization. Dodged a burn. She crouched and used the heel of one of the shoes that she was holding to extinguish the cigarette, mumbling “ridiculous” to herself, then headed into the complex. Magnussen peered to distinguish shapes in the dark in an attempt to not trip and fall flat on her mug as she tiptoed up the oddly dirty and sticky stairs. She cringed internally at the mere idea of navigating her apartment in this condition, already tired. Throw in hunger and an agonizing need to pee, and you could guess Magnussen’s general disposition.

          Maybe contemplating building her own network within the operation would serve as a distraction and cheer her up a bit. She couldn’t depend on her colleagues forever. In fact, she didn’t fancy relying on them at all. Administrator Lawn had gotten one thing right. Magnussen was no team player. She refused to let Calderoni off the hook, too. She demanded answers, and she was certain that the Commander was in possession of one or two of them. Calderoni had potentially upgraded to triple agent, bumping elbows with the Mexican government, the U.S. government, and the Guadalajara cartel. When Magnussen had told Breslin that Leyenda required somebody on the inside, she had meant it. Commander Calderoni was the perfect candidate for the job. Her plans didn’t end there, either. She also wanted to set up surveillance on Tómas Morlet – a DFS agent who had actually been placed at the scene of Camarena’s abduction and the man responsible for Kiki’s neighbor’s execution – and the low-ranking assholes who just so happened to be on Leyenda’s hit list. Happy coincidence.

TAGLIST: @a-dash-of-random-magic​ @amidalaraan​ @artthurshelby​ @buttercup--bee​ @cleastrnge​ @dameronology​ @frodo-sam​ @itssmashedavo​ @kalondarling​ @ladygangsters​ @maevesdarling​ @maevemills​ @maharani-radha​ @mitchi-c​ @moonlight-prose​ @nicolettegreen​ @pascalisthepunkest​ @queenofthefaceless​ @revolution-starter​ @sullho​ @themangolorian​ @tisbeautifulfreedom​ @qoedameron​ 

[nicolasapablazabitacora]

[ 3°Encargo Ejercicio "Maquina inutil" ] Maquina optica "La flor del tiempo"

Primer boceto de la idea:

En este ejercicio debi crear una "maquina inutil" en base a diferentes tipos de electricidad gracias a circuitos electricos. El resultado de mi maquina es un objetivo optico, que logre mezclar la ilustracion tematica sobre la portada de la caja, con la maquinaria adentro de esta que expone sus funciones hacia fuera.

Fotos del proceso:

Se trata de una caja negra de carton piedra, medidas 25x25, en donde se muestra sobre la tapa superior, una imagen. Mas especificamente una ilustracion de un joven de cabello largo, sosteniendo en sus manos una luz roja, los cuales estan cubiertos por una flor blanca que gira. La escena es iluminada por otra flor que crece al costado, iluminandolos con una ampolleta amarilla.

Resultado final:

La ilustracion representa la juventud eterna de un individuo que obtiene un organismo atemporal. Esto gracias a su belleza y elegancia visual. La escena es enmarcada entre lineas runicas para enmarcarlo como una leyenda.

La tapa de la ilustracion es operable para abrir, y permite descubrir el mecanismo para que funcionen tanto luces como la flor que gira. Por otra parte, el costado de la caja esta abierto para operar los circuitos.

Estos circuitos funcionan de diferente manera:

-La ampolleta pequeña amarilla funciona en base a un panel solar que utiliza luz solar para cargar su bateria.

-La flor que gira utiliza un pequeño motor electrico que la hace girar para conformar una energia sinetica.

-La luz roja utiliza energia electrica, la cual comparte circuitos con el motor electrico antes mencionado.

Esquema del circuito.

El objetivo de esta maquina es totalmente optico, visual y estetico. Mezclando la inutilidad racional de los circuitos con la utilidad tematica de la portada.

Video del ejercicio: