#Vancouver Liquor Store

[fraserstores]

https://www.fcliquor.com/

Cellar Treasures by Fraser Commons Liquor

Uncover hidden gems and rare finds in our cellar, where each bottle tells a story of craftsmanship and tradition.Visit https://www.fcliquor.com/

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"PRISONER PICKS HIS HANDCUFFS," Vancouver Daily World. May 5, 1913. Page 21. --- Pretends to be Humiliated by Curious Passengers and Asks Guard for Paper to Cover Up Hands. ---- That H. L. Jackson, who was convicted on a charge of attempting to rob the Diamond Liquor Company and sentenced to a term of two years in the penitentiary, is no mere novice, was demonstrated by the clever manner in which he attempted to pick his handcuffs while being taken to the New Westminster penitentiary on Saturday by Provincial Constable Wing.

"Get me a paper," said he, "so I can spread it over my hands. People are gazing at me." The constable believed that the request was a reasonable one and complied with it. During his absence, however, Jackson got in his fine work, and had nearly worked the handcuffs off. One, however, he tightened up 50 that it took a locksmith some time to take them off after their arrival at the penitentiary. "He's the smoothest customer I ever had anything to do with," remarked Police Constable Wing, in referring to Jackson.

Now that Jackson is behind the bars the police think that they have effected the capture of an exceptionally clever criminal. Besides attempting to rob the Diamond Liquor Company, he is alleged to have been a partner of James W. Hinds, who is serving a sentence of ten years for the same robbery and attempting to shoot Police Constable Sinclair.

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Lebanon (14x13)

It's hilarious to me that the Lebanon, Kansas in Supernatural is like a big town when in the really real world it has a population of about 182.

Yeah, that's right.

182

That's it. It also looks like this...

This is pretty much the town, btw. There's no movie theater, no fancy liquor store. There's a market, a post office, an American legion, a "city" hall, a bank, a visitor's center (because it's the geographic center of the 48 contiguous states), a grain elevator (because farming) and that's about it. SMALL town America.

I understand that the show was shot in BC, in and around Vancouver and whatnot, and that it makes narrative sense for the town to be big enough that Sam and Dean could blend in a bit and just, have places to go, but it's still funny to me.

[news-buzz]

Passerby stabbed during shoplifting at Vancouver liquor store – Brandon Sun News Buzz

VANCOUVER – A passerby has been seriously injured after he was stabbed by a shoplifter who was trying to flee a liquor store in Vancouver’s Olympic Village neighbourhood. Vancouver police say the attack happened on Saturday at around 10:30 p.m., when a security guard was trying to stop a shoplifter from leaving the liquor store. Police say the 63-year-old passerby intervened to help stop the…

[winsomecriticisms]

I want to like this brewery because I heard they are named after an imaginary ideal pub that James Joyce came up with. But fuck me, here is just another sad example of "craft" beer that sounds exciting but utterly fails to live up to the promise of the premise.

Honestly, I've lost count how many beers like this I've tried that have some exotic component on the label but I can't help but feel has been nerfed out of the final product to essentially imperceptible, homeopathic amounts.

It doesn't really taste like mango, can't taste any salt, can't taste any cardamom, and it's waaay more sweet than sour. I suspect breweries do this -- I imagine there is a conflict between the creative and adventurous minds of the brewers who want to try something exciting and different, and the marketing/money/CEO people who are freaked out that if it's "too weird" it won't sell. This is basically why modern movies are so filled with reboots and familiar intellectual properties rather than taking the risk of producing new stories.

At least I want to believe that's why this beer and so many others claim to have interesting ingredients but end up tasting boringly like every other beer on the shelf.

The one exception I can think of that made an impression recently was Abbotsford's Raven's Brewing's Ghost Pepper Sour. It was amazing, it was actually fucking spicy and actually sour, and somehow magically was perfectly balanced and still refreshing and a joy to drink. But since I bought the last can from the one store I found it at on Commercial Drive I haven't seen it, and none of other liquor stores in Vancouver seem to have even heard of it.

2/5

[pucksonnet]

McDavid's Beer Run to the Final (421)

Support us on Patreon

Call the PON Sauce Line: 604-283-9469 (nice!)

Ryan returns from Vegas in one piece with stories to share and the Edmonton Oilers move on to the Stanley Cup Final.

Arash and Ryan hop on the couch this week to chat about Luke Gazdic's comments regarding the Vancouver Canucks, they give their Stanley Cup Final predictions and take a look at an incredible bounce-back season for the Edmonton Oilers.

They also chat about the Ottawa Senators new coaching staff, Connor McDavid's strange encounter in the liquor store parking lot and a potential general manager swap between Columbus and Carolina.

Sauce It? or Toss It?, voicemails and more! 

Support the show on Patreon! Pledge a coupla bucks ($5, $15 or $25) for access to our bonus content including vlogs, Rank City segments, EXCLUSIVE NEW MERCH, video commentaries, access to the PON Discord and our weekly 5 Minutes For Paying segment. On This week's segment: Ryan shares some tales from his bachelor party in Las Vegas, and the two discuss visiting Japan, Arash a few years back with some pals and Ryan on his honeymoon later this year. 

Pucks On Net shirts are available now. Email us today to place your order! 

Looking for our social media? Here's our link tree

[bridgepaymentca]

Where Can You Find Reliable Self-Ordering Kiosks Across Canada?

Many trustworthy suppliers and manufacturers that specialise in restaurant technology solutions can be found all over Canada offering dependable self-ordering kiosks. These kiosks offer all innovative landscapes like customizable layouts, safe payment dispensation, smooth integration with present point-of-sale systems, and intuitive user borders. Upright vendors such as Clover, Square, and others offer self-ordering kiosk answers that are adjustable to your business's wants, irrespective of even ifyou're in Toronto, Montreal, Vancouver, or any other Canadian city.

In Quebec, Clover Mini Solutions A current point-of-sale system among productions in Quebec is Clover Mini Solutions in Quebec which is both solid and handy. Clover Mini offers an effective process of managing transactions, tracking inventory, and streamlining processes with its elegant design and robust structures. Clover Mini can be tailored to your unique requirements whether you manage a restaurant, retail outlet, or service-based business in Quebec.

Quebec Clover Payment In order to process payments safely and effectively, Quebec has a large adoption of Clover Payment solutions. Credit cards, debit cards, and mobile payments are just a scarce of the payment approaches that businesses in Quebec can accept thanks to Clover's authoritative payment processing skill. Businesses in a diversity of Quebecian industries choose Clover Payment solutions since of their dependability, security, and user-friendliness.

Toronto Liquor Management Systems The hospitality sector in Toronto relies heavily on liquor control systems to manage inventory and stop loss. These systems backing Toronto's bars, eateries, and other businesses in custody an eye on alcohol feeding, tracking stock levels, and guaranteeing monitoring compliance. Businesses in Toronto can maximize profitability, cut waste, and professionally manage their liquor inventory by hitting liquor control systems in home. Liquor Pour System in Toronto

To precisely measure and pour alcoholic beverages, bars and restaurants  need aliquor control systems Toronto,. These devices aid establishments in managing serving sizes, reducing excessive pouring, and preserving consistency in beverage quality. Businesses in Toronto can increase productivity behind the bar, boost client happiness, and increase profits by making an investment in a liquor pour system.

Self-Serve Kiosk in Montreal Self-ordering kiosks, which deliver patrons with a quick and easy way to place their instructions, are growing in approval in Montreal's dining scene. Deprived of assistance from staff, customers can securely salary for their meals, customize their orders, and peruse blackboards at these kiosks. Montreal restaurants can offer a more current dining experience, cut down on wait times, and streamline the ordering process by applying self-ordering kiosks.

in Ontario, Clover Flex Solutions For businesses of all sizes in Ontario, Clover Flex is a supple point-of-sale system. Clover Flex gives productions mobility and flexibility by empowering them to accept payments wherever, at any time, with its small size and integrated structures. With Clover Flex, you can run a food truck, small store, or service breadwinner in Ontario and get all the gears you need to track inventory, handle transactions, and enlarge your company. Kiosk Canada for Self-Ordering

Self-ordering kiosks, which deliver businesses in a variety of businesses with a suitable way to recover customer service and streamline processes, are becoming more and more general across Canada. Self-ordering kiosks are used in quick-service restaurants, retail formations, and entertainment venues. They proposal a user-friendly interface that allows customers to independently cruise products, place orders, and pay. In Canada, self-ordering kiosks allow companies to growth productivity, cut down on wait times, and provide a sound customer experience.

[starlingsrps]

joseph andrew becker, 29, firefighter/emt

joe spent the earlier part of his life blaming everything else for his behavior but he's better now so it's cool.

his parents were each twenty when he was born in vancouver and, in theory, they gave it a shot. drew was working for the city and lisa was pulling in enough in bartending tips that it seemed like it would work - she took day with joey, he took nights. sneaking resentment towards the other for the wild youth that they didn't get to have creeped in and lisa wanted to take off first but drew beat her to it when joe was three.

he has absolutely no idea how she wound up tracking him down to wayfield but all of the sudden, he was seven and being hauled from the city to a tiny summer town on the bay to meet his father and grandmother. it was fine for a few days, he guessed, but when lisa conveniently left and forgot to take him with, he was mad as hell and stayed that way for…..quite awhile.

joe spent the next eleven years with his grandmother and father - sometimes. drew left for longer and longer stretches of time - oil fields at first, finally leaving for alaska when joe was thirteen and without a word since. it's not as though him and his grandmother don't get along. she took care of him the best she could and he's the first to admit that he was a pain in the ass. they see each other at holidays and aren't jerks when they run into each other at the store but…it just is what it is.

he started drinking when he was twelve. he remembers that his first drink was beer his friend tommy had swiped from his dad's fridge and that it was backpack temperature molson but it made him stop thinking so goddamn hard and made him feel invincible. so he just kept doing it. he stayed mad but at least he felt strong.

by high school, he was a master of smuggling liquor from his grandmother's stash and keeping his grades just above flunking. the art of skating by? a master at the craft.

aiyla was never something he could half ass or skate by with. when he fell, he fell as hard and fast and only a stupid sixteen year old boy can and maybe the uptick in delinquency had everything to do with trying to impress her and maybe it didn't. shut up about it.

in retrospect: he was kind of a shit boyfriend at the details - never took her to prom, definitely a little drunk the first time he met her parents, and never met a curfew he couldn't break. he never forgot an anniversary or her birthday and if the flowers were nicked from his neighbor's yard under cover of night, so be it. his girl got flowers just because.

the breakup was inevitable but joe still felt blindsided when it actually happened. they limped along for a bit after high school - long distance to some extent, half broken up already. he was working at the liquor store (because why waste time?) and he knew she was trying to make something of herself and it never stopped feeling like he was dragging her down. so he drank more about it. and that became more of a problem and then that became a really big part of the reason for the breakup.

frankly, he didn't even realize it was for real until her parents called the cops on him for trying to climb in her window and he spent the night in lock up.

planted the seeds though. took another six months of fucking around before he decided it was time to get sober but he did. he was suddenly very aware that he was twenty four with jackshit to his name except a burgeoning criminal record and some stories that were rapidly becoming embarrassing rather than cool.

he did the full twelve step shot - tommy had become a licensed social worker and took him on as a project. he wrote letters to his parents that he still isn't sure ever reached them but he felt better once the words were out. he wrote aiyla seven pages on notebook paper while sitting on tom's office couch and left it in her parents' mailbox. under cover of night - he knew he'd gotten lucky that the cerens didn't press charges the first time and knew it. it felt better once it was out.

newly sober and unemployed, he decided to become a firefighter. absolutely no rhyme or reason. just felt like something steady to do. he was pretty psyched to find out that he's good at it - he hasn't really been good at a lot.

and that's been about it. he's been in joe 2.0 mode for four and a half years now and it's finally starting to feel like the other shoe isn't going to drop. he has a townhouse and a rescue mutt named jake and learned how to cook so he could handle his dinner duty nights at the firehouse. his friends who stuck around get him, the ones that didn't weren't worth it in the long run anyway. sometimes, he even thinks that maybe actually getting into a relationship and planning a future with someone that lasts longer than a few months wouldn't be the worst.

he spent so much of his life hating where he was at and fighting the idea that it might just be the right place and that wayfield is home now is as surprising to him as it is for anyone else.

joe 1.0 and joe 2.0 don't have a lot in common besides some basics - both sarcastic little shits with mouths that are faster than their brains and a deep, intense loyalty. it's more healthily funneled and expressed now - joe knows were his energy is best spent in a way that he didn't when he was younger. obviously, he cannot pick every single fight but he's probably still going to pick too many because that's just how he is.

[college-girl199328]

As recently as a year ago, chronic offender Francis Joseph Boivin promised to try and straighten himself out and put his life of crime behind him.

A judge told him that although he was 50 years old and had a lengthy criminal record, there was still room for improvement and he could rehabilitate himself.

“I’ll do my duty, your honour,” Boivin said at the January 2022 sentencing hearing in a Vancouver courtroom. Since moving to B.C. from Quebec in 1998, Boivin has accumulated more than 115 criminal convictions, most of them property-related offences to support his drug addiction. Earlier this month, Vancouver police announced brand-new charges against Boivin, accusing him of stealing more than $40,000 in art from a Vancouver art gallery.

He is just one of many chronic offenders who cycle through the criminal justice system. The issue of chronic offenders has become the focus of lawmakers in recent months. Premier David Eby announced changes that he said would make B.C. communities safer, including a change in policy on bail that is intended to keep repeat offenders behind bars.

Longtime criminal defence lawyer Mark Gervin, who has numerous clients who are chronic offenders, said that while Eby might be the right person to solve the issue, it’s not going to be fixed any time soon. “If there was an easy solution, we would have done it. There is no easy solution, and it will likely involve more money.”

Gervin believes there needs to be more funding put into better housing, drug treatment and mental health support if any progress is to be made with chronic offenders. Boivin had stable parents growing up in Quebec — his father was a police chief and his mother a drug counsellor.

He was the youngest of two children, and in his early days in Montreal started using drugs at the age of 13, according to submissions made at the sentencing hearing last year.

Boivin had difficulty living under the rules of his father and mother. They tried to assist him with his drug addiction but eventually had him leave the family home. His past employment included positions as a carpenter working for a flooring company in Montreal before he moved to B.C. in 1998.

One of his first criminal offences in B.C. came that year as he was convicted of trafficking in a controlled substance in Vancouver and received a 60-day conditional sentence to be served in the community. From 2012 to 2020 he was living homeless on the streets of Vancouver, but in 2020, with assistance, he managed to find housing in a single-room occupancy hotel in the city’s Downtown Eastside.

At the January 2022 sentencing hearing, he pleaded guilty to two counts of theft and two counts of breach of a conditional sentence order.

Earlier that month, he had stolen $250 worth of vodka from a B.C. government liquor store on East Broadway. In December 2021, an unknown person smashed the glass front door of a store on Granville Street, stole money from the cash till and fled. Boivin pleaded guilty to entering the store about an hour after the initial break-in, looting some electronics and towels, and leaving the premises before being arrested.

At the time of the offences, he was serving a six-month conditional sentence order after pleading guilty in August 2021 to two counts of breaking. His lawyer told the judge that Boivin was under the care of a physician and had been prescribed medication.

While he was living at the Flint Hotel on Powell Street, there had been a decrease in Boivin’s use of illicit substances and less involvement with the police. He had had time to think about the future, said the lawyer.

Boivin applied for admission to the Visual College of Art and Design on West Pender Street. He was hoping to be accepted into a program that might lead to employment in that field. He told the judge that he thought his life was coming together.

“It’s time for me to have something different in my life. … I’m willing to put in the necessary work.” The judge said the fact that he had found housing after being homeless for eight years was a “huge turnaround” for him.

She ordered that Boivin serve the remaining 27 days of his conditional sentence order in jail. But despite signs his future was looking up, Boivin relapsed and was arrested on March 6, 2022. He was charged with possession of stolen property at the Source Enterprise antique store on Main Street.

After an unknown male smashed a front window, police arrested Boivin a short while later in possession of several items from the store. At the May 5, 2022, sentencing hearing, Boivin apologized for his actions. He told the lawyers and the judge that he knew they were trying to help him, and he wanted to take advantage of that help.

The judge sentenced him to a day in jail after giving him enhanced credit for being in pre-sentence custody for 40 days. Boivin was also given 12 months probation and ordered to report to Forensic Psychiatric Services. Asked if he understood the conditions, Boivin said: “Yes, your honour. I’ll be on my finest behaviour.”

Lorraine Shorrock, a director and manager of the Source Enterprise antique store, said crime has gotten steadily more severe in the neighbourhood.

“We experience nothing but crime now and it was not like that (before). We used to have a few drunks, yes, we’ve always had them, a few fights where they break a window. But I’ve never had six broken windows in a year.” In a statement, the Vancouver police, which put out a news release about Boivin after the art gallery theft, noted there was a national conversation occurring about violent crime, chronic offenders, and the justice system’s role in holding criminals accountable.

“We hear every day from the citizens we serve, and many tell us they’re frustrated. Small business owners see the same shoplifters day after day and week after week. Their staff are increasingly facing violence and being assaulted when they try to stop thieves.”

[mywinepal]

BC Liquor Stores Summer Whisky Collection

#BC Liquor Stores Summer #Whisky Collection @bcliquorstores #Vancouver

If you are a whisky lover, here is the latest info from BC Liquor stores about their summer whisky collection.

~~~

SUMMER WHISKY COLLECTION Saturday, June 16th 9:30 – 11:30 a.m. BC Liquor Stores will release a special selection of ten premium whiskies on Saturday, June 16th. The collection has been carefully selected to include highly rated varieties and some have been hand selected and…

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“CRESS Recaptured IN B. C.,” Vancouver Sun. December 5, 1932. Page 1. ---- ASLEEP IN BARN AT BRIDESVILLE --- MANHUNT ENDS --- GREENWOOD, Dec. 5. - Robert Cress, 38, hijacker and convicted jail breaker who escaped from custody of two Provincial Police constables. Nov. 30, while being taken on a Kettle Valley train to Oakalla to serve one year for breaking from Nelson jail, was recaptured near Bridesville today. 

Cress was asleep in a ranch building near Bridesville, eight miles west of Rock Creek and 38 miles westward from here, when he was apprehended by Provincial Constable Clark of Greenwood, who was one of the escort from whom the fugitive escaped. 

Clark was accompanied by a game warden. 

Arrest of Cress ended one of the most intensive manhunts in the history of the Kettle Valley district. 

Provincial Police were handicapped by 24 men having been moved to Princeton last week owing to trouble brewing there among striking miners. 

All available Provincial officers and settlers acting as special constables have been scouring the wild country between Midway and Bridesville since Wednesday night when Cre-ss made his desperate leap, feet first, through the train window at Carml. 

FLED ON SPEEDER He eluded pursuit by escaping on a railway speeder which was found upside down at Rock Creek Thursday.

Cress has a long criminal record having been convicted in Vancouver, 1927, for the Cordova Street Liquor Store robbery there, also several robberies in Point Grey. He was sentenced to five years in the penitentiary. 

He had been sentenced previously for robbery with violence and hijacking at Grand Forks in 1924 and served five years for that offense. 

HIS THIRD "BREAK" He was awaiting trial, charged with robbery of the liquor store at Greenwood, July 2 last, when he sawed his way out of a Nelson jail cell and was at large 12 hours before being recaptured, November 24.

He was sentenced to one year for this jail break but was acquitted on the liquor store roooery charge. 

As he had attempted to break from custody of Vancouver police officers before. Cress was manacled with leg irons while in the train and he was wearing these when he escaped for the third time.

[stregisfinewine-blog]

Liquor Store in Downtown Vancouver

Wine, beer and liquor store in Downtown Vancouver. Conveniently located in Granville Skytrain Station, St. Regis Fine Wines offers a large selection of wines, liquors and craft beers. http://www.stregisliquorstore.com/

[swaps55]

Eulogia

With MELE imminent, sharing a scene I wrote a long time ago, in which Kaidan Alenko mourns Ashley Williams after Virmire, and discovers he isn’t mourning alone. 

From here. 

~

The cargo bay was quiet when the elevator doors opened. Most of the crew had dispersed to the Citadel, leaving Kaidan mercifully alone in the cavernous space. Slowly he made his way towards the lockers, the scar tissue and healing sinews in his abdomen like a knot that someone had doused with gasoline and set on fire.

But still healing.  

(This is it. This is how I’m going to die.)

Kaidan exhaled.

If he closed his eyes he could still see the numbers in his HUD, always hovering right above zero, a perpetuating terminus never quite reached, never quite avoided.

When he reached the lockers he stopped, hand halfway to the one marked, Williams, A.

If he went by the book this should be Gladstone’s job. There was no reason it shouldn’t be Gladstone’s job.

(You know it’s the right choice.)

But it wasn’t Gladstone’s job.

The click of the locker door echoed loud enough that he flinched before drawing in a deep breath and pulling it all the way open. She hadn’t lied about her uniforms. Every shirt hung crisp and straight on its hanger, in sharp contrast to the chaotic pile of belongings tossed heedlessly on the ground below it. The pile was so impressive he was actually afraid to take anything out, for fear it would cause an outright avalanche. In spite of himself he shook his head and smiled a little.

“Somehow this is exactly what I expected from you,” he said under his breath. He heard a creak behind him and whipped his head around, heart rate thudding as though he expected to find her peering over his shoulder, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. A flush crept up the back of his neck.

Of course there was nothing. Ashley was dead.

His gripped the locker door until his knuckles whitened, leaned his forehead briefly against it. The metal felt cool and hard against his skin. He swallowed once. Twice.  

Eventually he straightened with a sigh, tugging at his uniform and rolling his shoulder, as though he could somehow shake Ashley off like working out a crick in his neck.  By the time his fingers brushed the cloth of her fatigues their subtle quiver had been swallowed up by the hard-earned discipline he’d practiced so diligently ever since Jump Zero.

(Kaidan Alenko. Always looking for the sure thing. Everything needs to be perfectly defined and spelled out for you, doesn’t it? Sometimes the unknown can be a little exciting, too.)

A static spark stung his finger as he emptied the hangers. He jerked his hand back, muttering, used to the burn, never the timing. Slowly he reached back in, painstakingly folding each shirt with precision he hadn’t employed since Basic.

(You find a wrinkle in my uniform and I’ll clean your pistol for a month.)

He made each crease razor sharp. Not a wrinkle to be found.

Once the clothing had been stored, he began taking apart the pile she had accumulated in her locker. Datapads with poetry. She liked Cummings and Yeats, Plath and Elizabeth Bishop. He remembered Joker saying something about Heinlein. Kaidan hadn’t intended to look through them, but shortly he found himself cross-legged on the floor, skimming through lines and verses. It was easy to tell her favorites – she’d annotated them heavily. Underlined phrases, personal reflections. In some cases she’d made notes that he didn’t understand, such as the one beside a line from a poem by Elizabeth Browning that simply read, Josh, and in parenthesis (the little shit).

She also had a copy of the Bible, which gave him pause. It wasn’t a datapad either but an actual book, pages dog-eared, corners bent and turned down, small makeshift bookmarks such as scraps of paper, paper clips, even a hair tie, sticking out at all angles. Like the datapads it was covered in notes, but all of these handwritten, in scripts of multiple hands. Some tiny and neat, others broad and flowing. Though he didn’t think he’d ever seen a sample of Ashley’s handwriting he immediately found one he thought had to be hers – small but hurried, with the occasional loopy flourish. It tended to start out neat, but quickly deteriorated when her hand couldn’t keep up with her thoughts, until it was nearly illegible.

The inside cover contained four handwritten paragraphs, each in a different script that he recognized from the subsequent pages. Each a note from parent to child, passing the heirloom on with messages of faith and love. Four generations of Williams, right there on one page.

Kaidan ran his fingers across the script, tracing the shallow grooves the pen made against the paper. General David Williams, of Shanxi infamy, bequeathing it to his son Matthew Williams, with a note.

Our faith is our legacy. We keep to it and carry on, no matter the cost. And when that task is difficult, remember those who’ve walked a harder road with lesser reward. We are blessed. I am blessed. Because I have you.

Serviceman Williams then wrote to his daughter, There’s a great wide universe out there waiting for you. I hope you explore it to the fullest. If you ever get lost, look here and see if you can’t find your way. Remember, kiddo. Ad aspera per astra.

Kaidan’s hands loosened, allowing the book’s spine to droop. A few pages whispered past his thumb. The hair tie bookmark fell out, ghosting to the floor without fanfare.

He snatched it up with a hot flash of guilt and held it aloft. What page did it come from? What place had he lost? How important had it been?

He didn’t know.

There was so much he didn’t know. So much he’d never learn.

He stared at the hair tie. Nothing more than a simple strip of dark blue elastic, still twined with a few strands of long, dark brown hair. She probably had a few dozen just like it. She’d worn two in her hair, at all times. One to pull it back into a ponytail, one to wrap around the thick twist of her bun and secure it in place. Usually she kept a third around her wrist, just for emergencies.

But they were never enough to hold back those few stubborn, errant strands that inevitably pulled free to waft about her face.

Moisture burned the corner of his eyes. His fingers curled around the small token, and he put his newly formed fist to his mouth to stifle the sound brewing in his throat. One choked sob got through before he swallowed the rest back, chest aching from the effort. He wicked a thumb across his eyes, hastily tucked the hair tie back between the pages and set the book aside.

This wasn’t his. The grief and memories trapped within the Bible’s covers were for her family, not for him.

But it shouldn’t be for anyone. It should be his things exposed to the harsh light of the cargo bay, meticulously sorted and stored, itemized on a manifest and marked for shipping back to Vancouver, care of Marc and Lora Alenko.

His throat tightened, hitching breath loud against the silent backdrop of the cargo bay. Not even the sound of the engines to provide some white noise.

Nothing like this would be found among his own belongings. He spoke to his folks a couple of times a year. Hadn’t been back to Vancouver in almost three. When he did it tended to be strained small talk and careful avoidance of anything to do with the mutated eezo nodes lurking under his skin. He’d actually thought running off to the Alliance might help. Follow in his father’s footstep. Give them something in common. That, of course, and he’d had nowhere else to go.

Would his own family have mourned him the way Ashley Williams’ would mourn her?

Would she?

Stop.

He raked a hand through his hair, fingers eventually coming to rest against his forehead. His head felt heavy. Too heavy to hold up, like a lead weight.

(They’re more important. We’re as good as dead up here anyway.)

He wondered who would inherit the Bible now that Ashley was gone. One of her sisters, maybe. Sisters who probably had yet to learn about what had happened down on Virmire.

(Kaidan, what the hell are you doing?)

(This bomb is going off! No matter what.)

No matter what. 0.00. He’d been ready for it. Ready for anything. Except Shepard’s hand, grabbing him by the arm.

Further down in the pile he found smaller items. Toiletries. A stuffed hanar, of all things. A bottle of liquor she must have picked up on Noveria.

(Just for the record, I’d look damn good in a dress.)

He swallowed against a lump in his throat, chest constricting. He could see her so clearly, standing at the railing in Port Hanshan, alternating between slouching and gripping the rail with her hands and leaning back on her heels.

(I’m not most people.)

No. She hadn’t been.

He found some packing material for the liquor. It was scotch, an asari brand, maybe purchased to share with Liara. Why it hadn’t been drunk he couldn’t say. Maybe she just ran out of time.  

Next was a holo album containing a few photos. People he didn’t recognize. A woman that looked too much like her not to be her mother. A young girl with a grin he recognized from those brief moments in the comm room. Before…

Stop!

Kaidan put the holo aside, then rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. Took a deep breath in. Let it out slow. Clamped his eyes shut. For a moment, everything shook. His hands. The air in his lungs. His skin felt hot, but prickled with gooseflesh.  

Breathe in. Breathe out.  

Eventually he opened his eyes. Went back to the pile. Finish it, marine. Don’t leave her hanging.

In all her possessions were scant, just what she’d been able to obtain or accumulate since they’d picked her up on Eden Prime. In fact, how the Bible and holo album had even managed to catch up with her struck him as a bit of a mystery.

But when he got to the bottom of the pile his hand froze, mouth dry as a shock of white hot cold strummed the length of his spine, numbness dulling his fingers until they felt thick and clumsy.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. After all, she’d died in her combat gear. Not her fatigues. Of course they would be here.

This time no amount of discipline could overcome his shaking hands as he picked one up and turned it over in his palms.

A neon green boot with matching laces, so bright they nearly glowed in the dim light of the cargo bay.

His gut clenched, chest so tight he couldn’t breathe, the edges of his vision blurring until something hot and wet spilled over onto his cheeks.

(Come on.)

(Whoa, where are we going? Anderson said to wait here.)

(Come on, LT. Think we’ll ever get to poke around here again? Live a little.)

Only he hadn’t. She’d been right there. Right there. And he hadn’t.  

(Tell me you haven’t thought about this.)

(Thinking’s not the same as doing. Maybe, once all this is behind us…)

He dropped the boot, back slamming against the lockers as he buried his head in his hands, the grief that he’d stored down deep in his chest ever since that timer reached zero breaching the damn in a flood of hot tears. He wept himself hollow, hot, swollen and aching, exhaustion creeping in until he felt it laying heavily over his skin, behind his eyes, in the pit of his stomach. Then he just sat silent, eyes red and heavy, arms resting on his knees.

A hulking shape appeared above him. Had he not felt so drained he might have cared more about discovering he hadn’t been alone after all. But when Wrex’s red, horny crest came into view he met the krogan’s fierce stare without shame. Whatever the krogan had to say, he was beyond giving a damn.

“She was a warrior worth mourning,” Wrex said.

Kaidan straightened his posture with mild surprise, but said nothing.

“Shepard chose his companions well. Even those I at first didn’t give him credit for.” He offered a scaly hand, which Kaidan accepted warily. Wrex hauled him effortlessly to his feet, and gave him a brusque nod.

“You are krantt.”

Kaidan wasn’t sure how to respond, but Wrex saved him the trouble by ambling away without further comment. The krogan had been nearly invisible since their return from Virmire. After finding him here Kaidan wasn’t even sure if he’d even left the ship.

He hadn’t considered the possibility that a krogan might mourn a human soldier. But Ashley…had that effect on people.

With a wipe of his eyes Kaidan began piling Ashley’s things into a crate. Once the locker was empty he sealed it, then closed the crate up as well and entered it into the ship’s inventory for the requisitions offer to offload and send to her family. By the time he finished, his grief had been replaced by grim, dogged resolve.

We’re coming for you, Saren. May God help you, you bastard.  

[junoknox]

WHO: @finalstarters​ & juno knox. WHEN: thursday night WHERE: vancouver bus stop

skyline media could choke on juno’s dick. nothing she wrote was ever right! juno, it’s too dark. juno, we can’t air this on television. juno, this is a sitcom, the little boy can’t off his own dog. fuck, man. juno knew they were talented, they did, but they just couldn’t catch a break. after a stressful day, juno walked from the studio to her favorite liquor store, bought two armfuls of alcohol, and head to the bus stop. if people minded their business, like they should, they would assume juno had groceries in her arms. it was cold and the bus was taking for-fucking-ever. she could feel a pair of eyes burning into her and before she could think she was looking over. really? groaning, they turned away, making it a point that they would not be engaging right now. not in the mood. still, juno felt those damn eyes on him. again, she looked over, “yes?” she started, then shook her head, “what the fuck, wait? do you even take this bus?”

[pooryorickentertainment]

While I’ve mostly used this blog to feature my own Infinite Jest-inspired art, from time to time I will come across something worth sharing.  Infinite Zest is 100% Albarino, the creation of Matthew Landry, in collaboration with Stag’s Hollow Winery in Okanagan Falls, British Columbia.  It’s a limited run of 50 cases and is only available in the BC region of the Convexity. (Or Concavity, depending on your POV). As a recent transplant to the Canada, I was able to pick up a couple of bottles at Legacy Liquor Store in Vancouver.  I appreciate the attention to detail with the design. As for the wine, I haven’t opened it yet, but will add my review soon.