#i arrived at 3:45 and worked my ass off getting everything in order until now

[ig-quince-works]

my coworkers be like "you don't do your job" and then the café fucking collapses whenever i don't work more than two days in a row

[melanieratford]

Bloody Mary

@retailhell, @retail-hell, @retail-retales, @fuck-customers, @retail-problems, @retail-truestory, Ya’ll will find this very interesting.

Backstory: I work as a courtesy clerk/cart pusher at a local grocery store. My emotions have been shot for over a month because on December 28th, my mother was admitted into a hospital in my aunt’s city with respiratory failure and since then, my aunt and I have taken over my family’s finances. As of 01/25, my stress levels have been so high that my immune system is down and my body is now trying to catch a cold. Not to mention how I have blood sugar issues (they haven’t been confirmed by a doctor, but I know I have them.)... Basically, when my blood sugar drops too low, I faint, vomit, or both. I can usually feel this coming on, so usually, I go to my backpack and scarf down a snack. My store also has a laundry counter so people can pick up and drop off their dry cleaning.

Now to the hell...

About a year ago, a cashier named Mary was given the position of Store Trainer. As a cashier, she was sweetness and light, but since her promotion, it’s easy to tell that the “power” has gone to her head.

Over the past year, she has begun to nitpick EVERYTHING. She especially enjoys doing this with me. And I mean EVERYTHING. She has told me that I’m not allowed to wear a green jacket (despite the fact that the only jacket colors I’ve ever worn during her time at my store have been black and white. And I stopped wearing the white jacket when the Store Director said I couldn’t wear it anymore). She has told me that I’m not allowed to wear my Slytherin hat and scarf, and gave me a dirty look when I got permission from the Store Director to wear them (my customers love them, btw). She’s yelled at me in front of customers about how I sack groceries wrong (despite the fact that I’ve been at this job nearly 4 years). You name it, she’s yelled at me about it.

Now, when mom was admitted to the hospital, I thought she had gotten a cold and let it turn into Bronchitis, or Pneumonia... She was admitted on Saturday... It was Sunday night that I was told that her lungs were approximately 50% failed and the doctors were working their asses off to save her. I had work the next day.

I go to work completely distraught. So, I begin looking for the “higher ups” so that I can notify them of the situation and explain that my emotions are shot because of it. I see Mary and a cashier first. The cashier is awestruck and she runs off to find the Store Director so she can tell him that he needs to talk to me asap. Mary yells at me “I’M NOT YOUR BOSS. Find Mr. C (the Store Director) and tell him!”. I eventually get around to telling all of the managers what was up. Mr. C. and the office manager tell me to let them know if I need to leave early, and thank me for notifying them of the situation.

The cashiers all end up getting wind of why I was upset. At one point, it was dead, so I was explaining to 2 cashiers that I’m not going to give the hospital the D.N.R (Do Not Resuscitate) unless mom is a vegetable and can’t be saved. Mary walks up and tells me that I need to give the hospital the D.N.R and to prepare to let my mother go (die)...

Needless to say, what Mary said about my mother has kept me in a constant state of pissed off towards her for a month... And my family is so angry that my grandmother has talked about seeing if we have grounds to sue her... Not to mention how all my friends are pissed off at Mary.

Then Friday (01/24) happens.

So, my stress is firing on all cylinders. Mom has bounced back so well that the hospital is preparing to send her to a rehab facility for physical therapy, but my aunt and I are still trying to make sure the finances are taken care of. This particular day, I had an important, financial, family, meeting to attend to after work. I was supposed to work from 7 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. Mr. C is on vacation, Stan (the manager in the store at the time) is in the back dealing with a truck, and the office manager had to leave early to care for her husband and children (who all have the flu).... Leaving Mary with free reign over the front end.

Now, I don’t know if I’ve told ya’ll about Paula (a religious nutter/preacher’s wife) and Dwayne (a very bitchy, extremely demanding, mentally handicapped man (seriously, this guy is an asshole)). But, Paula was the primary cashier I was dealing with, and Dwayne is usually the second courtesy clerk to come in (after me). These 2 are key players on this day.

Mary starts in on me. I was refilling the spray bottles with cleaning solution for the cashiers, I got told there was someone at the laundry counter, and I decide that I’m gonna kill 2 birds with 1 stone by bringing the bottles to the counter so that I don’t have to go back for them. Too late, Mary is taking care of the customer. A couple of minutes later, while I’m with a customer, she gives me the death glare and yells “YOU KNOW YOU HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THAT TOO!”. I raise my hands and say “Hands up! Don’t shoot!” and my customer asks what Mary’s deal is.

My emotions flare and I accidentally lose my tact while I was with a couple of customers. I meant no malice towards the customers, I was simply really stressed and upset.

Dwayne clocks in, and we have no customers, so I go to the Laundry Counter and begin doing book work. At 9:45, Mary pops up and orders me to go to break, and yells at me to be nicer to the customers when I get back. I tried to explain myself, and say that I meant no harm when she cuts me off by yelling “YES YOU DID!”. Keep in mind, a 7 to 1:30 shift means that I shouldn’t have gotten a break until around 10:30 (the halfway point of the shift). As I walked off, I muttered “My animosity isn’t towards the customers, It’s towards you.”.

I come back and in an effort to keep Mary from yelling at me, I just refrain from talking. I keep my responses to my customers’ small talk extremely short...

However, that doesn’t work.

Throughout the time, my blood sugar begins to dip. Mary is circling the front end like a vulture, so I was afraid to get the chocolate to boost it and keep it from bottoming out... Only when my body said “If you don’t help me, you will suffer!” did I sneak away to scarf down some chocolate. This happens at least 3 times. Luckily, Stan was up front and Mary was elsewhere when I had to sneak away. At one point, I felt my phone vibrate. Now, usually, I walk off and check my phone... Because it could be my aunt, my grandmother, or the hospital, calling me to tell me that something has happened with my mother (who is working on her breathing and getting dialysis) or my grandfather (who has recently spent time in a hospital and a rehab facility). With Mary circling the front end, I was afraid to check it, which made me worry even more that something could be wrong.

Then 1 o-clock happens. Dwayne is told to go to lunch, and I have told him “I need you to get back on time, because they’re not gonna let me leave until I get back. And I can’t stay late because of an important, financial, family, meeting.”. Dwayne is the type of guy who clocks out, buys his lunch, then takes 30 minutes from the time he buys his lunch to come back... Despite the fact that he’s supposed to come back 30 minutes from the time he clocks out. It was 1:13 when he bought his lunch.

2 other courtesy clerks have clocked in since Dwayne has gone to lunch, meaning there are 3 of us running the front end. Everyone knows that I can’t stay late.

1:30 arrives, no Dwayne. Mary yells at me to fill the drinks. 1:45 arrives, Mary and Paula are riding my ass, while I begin to panic about being late for my meeting. 1:50 arrives, I run to the back, find Dwayne and beg him “PLEASE! Please clock back in so I can leave! I have an important family meeting to get to!”, to which he responds by yelling at me “YOU DON’T HAVE A MEETING! YOU JUST DON’T WANNA WORK!”. 1:55 arrives, Dwayne FINALLY clocks in, I clock out and bolt to where my backpack is.

As I take out my phone, discover it was my grandmother who called me, and begin taking my earbuds out so I can talk on the phone hands free while I drive, Mary corners me and screams “YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH A FAMILY TO WORRY ABOUT!” several times, ending the rant with “I’M SICK OF YOU!”.

Keep in mind, Murph (another manager) has clocked in, and neither him, nor Stan are in the area during the times that Mary yells and screams at me. She NEVER takes me into the office with a manager and lays out the problems... Instead, she aims to publicly humiliate me.

My fight or flight reflex is firing at maximum capacity at this point. Hell, by the time I clocked out, my desire to leave has shifted from worrying about the meeting to wanting to get away from Mary. My brain is telling me to stand up, fight and tell her off. My body is telling me “Get the fuck out of here and away from her!”. I listened to my body.

As I leave the building, I say “Mary P, more like Bloody Mary.”.

I got my grandmother on the phone while I was in the parking lot walking to my truck. She called to say that my neighbor took her to the meeting earlier in the day and that it was dealt with. As soon as she stops talking, I burst into tears. I was BAWLING. I went ahead and drove to my favorite coffee shop, because I really needed a boost.

I get to the coffee shop, end the phone call with my grandmother, and order my drink. It’s easy to tell that I’ve been crying my eyes out. After I order, Jennifer and John (the people who run the shop), ask me what’s up. As John begins making my drink, I begin explaining what had happened. I tried to pay, but Jennifer stuffed my money back in my hand saying “This one’s on me.”. John hands me my drink and Jennifer sits me down on a couch and listens to my woes. She then tells me that I need to report Mary to H.R. and that Mary was severely out of line. She also states that, because I came into the shop in tears, she and John both thought that something had happened to my mom. I love this shop so much that I frequent it enough that I tell Jennifer, Bridget and John about my family and friends (especially considering my friends like this shop as well). One of my friends (who happens to work in the Deli at my work) is in the shop, and as soon as Jennifer stands up from the couch, he sits down and asks me what’s up. I explain what had happened and he was awestruck, but not entirely surprised...

Apparently, Mary likes going into the departments and screaming at them as well. So, there are department members, cashiers, and courtesy clerks who all call her “Bloody Mary”.

I sent a very detailed report to H.R. on Saturday morning... My friends, family, and I are all hoping Mary gets fired. As it is, I’m afraid to go to work this week, because, if she’s there, that bright, neon, flashing, target will be back on my back.

[lovemesomerafael]

El Amor Todo Lo Puede            Chapter 49:  What Has To Be Done

Source:  @fortheloveofbarba

Chapters 1-45  Chapter 46  Chapter 47  Chapter 48

A young man brought a large bouquet of flowers through the door to the squad room.  

“Oh, no,” Amanda warned, catching Laura’s attention.

“I got flowers for a Laura Parker?”  The delivery man called out, looking around.

Laura rolled her eyes and indicated the chair next to her desk.  “Have a seat,” she said to the delivery man.  “This is gonna take longer than you expected.  Hope you’re not double-parked.”

When Olivia returned from ComStat, she saw the flowers and knew immediately that Parker had received another gift from Simmons.  Catching Rollins’ eye, she pointed to the bouquet and raised an eyebrow.

“Yep.  Him again. Parker and Fin are at the flower shop right now.”

“Is there a card?”  

“Yeah, he’s escalating.  This one is an out-and-out threat.”  Rollins handed Olivia an evidence bag with a florist’s card inside.

I love you.  Don’t make me hurt you like you’re hurting me.

Olivia scowled.  “They should’ve checked with me first.  This isn’t something Parker can be investigating anymore.  What if he’s waiting for her at the flower shop?”

“Fin’s there.”

“That’s something.  But you’re right, he’s escalating.  So this is the last time.”

“I don’t envy you telling Parker that.”

“Yeah.”

 **********

The package delivered to Laura three days later was the size of a shoebox, but heavy.  That, in itself, had been enough to prompt the evacuation of the station house and investigation by the bomb squad.  But it wasn’t a bomb.  It was worse.

Laura felt sick.  The poor cat appeared to have been healthy and well cared for, with a collar that included an ID tag.  Until the sick bastard had decapitated and disemboweled it.  

“Fuck,” she whispered.  She looked up at Olivia, her face pale and her eyes wide.  “I don’t suppose we can keep this from my husband.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Awesome.  Cue the ‘we’re leaving town until they catch this creep’ speech.”

“He’s got a point.”

“Oh, not you, too.”

“Yes.  Me, too.”

“Is that an order?

“Not yet.  But Simmons is out of control.  You need to let us take it from here.”  

“I’m working other cases!  I’ve got work to do.  If he comes for me, Fin and I will deal with him.  Please, Liv.  As long as I’m around, he’ll keep doing this stuff, and every time he does, he’s exposed. That gives us the chance to catch him. I split, he goes to ground until I’m back.  Or worse, he starts on someone else.”

“All right.  For now.  But you stay far away from this investigation.  Understood?”

“Understood, Lieu.”

 Rafael was livid.  The moment he heard about the cat, he was on the phone to Laura, telling her to stay at the station house until he could come get her and take her out of town.  Laura closed her eyes, shook her head, and went into the crib, from which the squad expected to hear arguing from behind the closed door.  There was no yelling, but they could hear the clipped words and exaggerated pronunciation of a very tense discussion.  

“Rafael, I love you.  I know you’re worried about me, and I appreciate it.  But this is not. your. call.”

“¡Joder![1]  

“Look, Liv’s OK with me staying on.  If you won’t trust my judgment, trust hers.”

“It’s not your judgment I question, it’s this maniac’s. We’re not done talking about this. In the meantime, you be careful.”

“Always.  Now go back to work.”

The following day, as Laura and Fin drove across town working a case, they noticed a car tailing them.  

“You think it’s him?”  Fin asked.

“Let’s check it out.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Give him what he wants.”

“You sure?”  Fin squinted at Laura.

“You got me, right?”  She shrugged, grinning at him.

“If Barba asks, I was against this from the beginning,” Fin said, pulling into a parking lot.  

The blue Hyundai compact pulled into a parking stall near them, but across the aisle.  No one got out.  Fin and Laura decided to push it by getting out of their car and heading to either side of the Hyundai.  As soon as they did, though, the Hyundai pulled back out of the stall and squealed off, nearly clipping Laura in the process.  She jumped and rolled just in time to avoid being hit.

Fin ran to her side and helped her up from the pavement. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” she told him, disgusted.  “Damn, that was him.  We almost had him.”

Laura’s phone rang.  She didn’t recognize the number, but that wasn’t unusual.  Just after she answered, her expression went hard and she pushed the speaker button.

“- and I don’t like that.  You really hurt my feelings, Laura.  Why won’t you love me?”

“Hey, Art, I know you’re upset.  Why don’t you come back here?  Maybe we can talk about it.”

“Get rid of that other guy.”

“I can do that,” she said.  Fin tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, but didn’t interfere.

“You- you will?”  Simmons stammered.  

“Yeah, Art.  I don’t want to hurt your feelings.  Let’s talk.”

“You’re trying to trick me.”

“I’m trying to fix things between us, Art.  That’s all.”  

“You’re a liar!  You bitch, you’re trying to trick me!  Why are you such a bitch?”  At first, he had been shouting furiously into the phone.  Now, Fin and Laura could hear him begin to sob.  “All I ever did is love you!  Why won’t you love me back?”

“Come on, Art, please don’t cry.  Just come back and talk to me.”  

“Yeah, I’m gonna come back, you filthy whore, and I’m gonna rip you apart!”  He was screaming, almost incoherent before the call ended abruptly.  

Laura and Fin looked at eachother, stunned.  

“Next mood swing in 3…2…1…”  Fin murmured.

“Holy crap.  He’s completely unhinged.”

“Yeah.  I think it might be time for you to bow out.”

“Screw that.  We’ve got him, Partner.  All I gotta do now is stay put and let him come to me.”

Squealing tires drew their attention to the end of the row of cars where a blue compact was tearing around the corner.  

“Go!”  Fin yelled, pushing Laura toward one row of cars while he sprang for the other.  

As soon as Simmons cleared the corner of the row of cars, he aimed his car directly at Laura.  She could see his red face, distorted with rage, teeth bared, as he bore down on her. She ran between two cars to avoid being crushed between Simmons’s Hyundai and their squad car.  He aimed at the space Laura had entered, his compact ramming violently into the cars on either side.  He immediately jammed the Hyundai into reverse, pulled back a few feet and, ramming the gearshift again, shot out the other end of the aisle before either Laura or Fin could get off an effective shot.

Laura slammed her hand down hard on the hood of a car and swore as Fin reached her.  

“You OK?”  He asked, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking her over.  

“Yeah, yeah.  How is that car still drivable?  Just my luck, I get the stalker with the indestructible Hyundai.”

“Let’s call it in.”

 Rafael was stiff and quiet when he arrived at the station that evening to take Laura home. She knew without asking that someone had told him about the incident in the parking lot, which meant he was going to be implacable about making her leave town until Simmons was caught.  

It had been over a week that Laura hadn’t been allowed to work late or to go anywhere alone.  It drove her crazy, but even she had to admit it was necessary.  It would have been nice, working normal hours and going home with Rafael in time for dinner, if it hadn’t been for the reason. At first, they had enjoyed it and taken advantage of the opportunity to spend the long evenings in bed together. But as time had gone by, and Simmons had become more aggressive about stalking Laura, romance had given way to tension as Rafael had become more anxious for her safety, and Laura more determined to stay in New York and live her life as normally as possible.  With each incident, the strain got worse.  

As if by agreement, they didn’t discuss the situation on the drive home, or as they made dinner together, he dressed in jeans and a sweater, she dressed in sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt.  They both knew the situation had turned a corner.  

Rafael tried to be calm.  He knew they were going to have to have a very difficult conversation, but, for now, he just wanted to enjoy being with Laura.  He looked across the kitchen at her, looking cuter than anyone should look in their most casual clothes; hair in low pigtails, barefoot, cutting up vegetables for a salad.  As gorgeous as she looked in an evening gown with her hair and makeup perfect, as beautiful as she was in the street clothes she wore to work, he found her most irresistible like this; no makeup, hair haphazard, in grubby clothes that only incidentally revealed her curves.  This was a Laura that belonged only to him.  

“You’re staring at me,” she said, giving him a tentative grin.  

“Hard not to.  You’re pretty cute.”

Her smile became more genuine.  “I’m cute?  Have you seen you?”

Rafael took the few steps across the kitchen to where she was.  She turned to him, putting her arms around his neck as she drew her to him.  

“Te amo,”[2] he whispered into her hair.

“Me, too.”  

They stood there, simply holding one another, for quite some time.  They didn’t say anything out loud; there was no reason.  That evening, they flirted throughout dinner, talking about everything but Simmons.  By the time dinner was over, they weren’t in the mood to bother doing more than toss the dirty dishes in the sink before they hurried, kissing and removing clothes as they went, to their bedroom.  

The next morning, as she pulled on a leather jacket, Laura continued the conversation they’d finally begun shortly after waking. She did everything she could to try to convince Rafael that she needed to join her team in the hunt for the creep who was stalking her.  

“Why are we even talking about this?  This is my job.  It’s dangerous.  That’s just how it is.“

“Te amo, Laura, pero lo juro vas a ser mi muerte,”[3] Rafael muttered, shaking his head.

She tried another tack.  “I’m the one he’s looking for, Rafael.  They need me to…”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what they need.  You are not leaving this house.”  Laura had never heard the steel growl Rafael used.  She blinked in surprise.

“So, what?  I’m a prisoner now?”  She asked.

“If that’s what it takes.”  He looked her straight in the eyes.

“What?”

Rafael stepped closer to her.  He spoke in his usual rapid-fire manner, his voice low and serious.  “Laura, you are my wife.  Your life is more important to me than my own, and I am going to protect you, no matter how angry you get at me.  I will charge you with a crime if I have to, get you locked up where every cop in the city can watch out for you.  If you turn this into a battle of wills, you’ll find out you aren’t actually the stubborn one in this marriage.”  

Laura stared.  She’d seen him in this mood before, although it wasn’t usually directed at her.  It was useless to argue.  She’d seen the best defense lawyers in New York try.  She sighed and took her jacket back off.  

He started to say something, but Laura did not want to hear “Good girl.”  Or anything like it.  She cut him off.

“If you speak, I will taze you,” she said. Rafael stifled a smile.  

She was restless and hated what felt to her like making the rest of the team fight her battles.  But there was something deeply sexy about Rafael’s masculine protectiveness. His absolute demand that she stay safe made her feel loved and precious to him.  Even in this lousy situation, he managed to give her new reasons to love him.

Laura paced around the apartment, checking her phone every minute.  She knew Rafael was only pretending to work, watching and waiting to see if she would try to leave the apartment.  As she was looking at her phone for the millionth time that morning, there was a knock on the door.  

She stood at the end of the short hall, gun in hand, as Rafael looked out the peephole.

“It’s Liv,” he said, opening the door.

Olivia stepped in while Laura holstered her gun.

“Something’s happened.”  Rafael said.

“Yeah.  You guys are gonna want to pack.”

“What’s he done?”  Laura asked, moving a step closer.  

“His car’s outside.  With a body in it.”

“Outside.”  Rafael looked at Laura, then back to Olivia.  “Outside here?  This building?”

“Yeah.”

Laura gasped.  “How the hell does he know where we live?”

“Come on,  He knows everything about you.  And now he’s killed a woman.”

“What woman?”  Rafael’s voice was hard.

“One that looks enough like your wife to be her twin.”

“Fuck packing.  We’re out of here now.”  

“Rafa,” Olivia said, “You might as well take the time to pack.  Right now there’s just me and Fin.  In two minutes, there’s gonna be a hundred cops outside.  Take your time.  Call me when you’re ready, and we’ll get you to your car.”

An hour later, the CSU techs had checked Rafael and Laura’s car and found no sign of incendiary devices or tampering with the engine or brakes.  With their luggage hastily tossed in the back, Rafael drove out of the parking garage, out of the neighborhood, and out of the city.  With each mile, they both felt better.  Laura wanted to be working with her squad to catch Simmons, but she could feel Rafael’s anxiety melting away, which mattered more to her.  

“Any idea where we’re going?”  She asked as they emerged from the Lincoln Tunnel into the New Jersey sunshine.

“Where would you like to go, mi amor?[4]  The beach? The mountains?  North?  South?”

“Trenton.”

“Trenton!?”  

“Yeah.  Trenton. That way, there’s no reason to go out. We’ll just stay in our hotel room and I can have my way with you 24/7 until they catch Simmons.”

Laura enjoyed the first real laugh she’d heard from Rafael in a long time.  “Tell you what,” he said.  “Let’s go somewhere wonderful.  We can still just stay in our hotel room and you can have your way with me 24/7.  For as long as you want.”  The look he gave her shot jolts of electricity through her.

“Deal.  You do realize you’re hot as hell, right?”

Rafael just smiled.  

That evening, Rafael and Laura lay on the floor of a small but luxurious cabin in the Poconos, not far from where they’d spent their honeymoon.  They cuddled together in a nest of blankets and pillows they’d made in front of the fireplace.  

“You know the cliché about a bearskin rug in front of the fire?  No one ever tells you the bearskin rug is to cushion your spine from the floor,” Rafael mumbled.  His voice made a pleasant rumble in his bare chest where her head rested on it. 

“Pro tip.  When your wife rocks your world in front of a roaring fire, it’s very unromantic to complain about how hard the floor is.”  

“Sorry.”  

“But as long as we’re being honest, it is a little cold down here.  How about we get in bed and you can rock my world?”  

“Again?  If I’d known you were so demanding, I’d never have married you.”

“Oh, there is so much wrong with that statement. First, you did know how demanding I am. Second, you love how demanding I am. Third, you would still have married me, because you’re hopelessly in love with me.”

“Guilty.  On all counts.”  He tightened his arms around her and kissed her on top of her head, then stood up and helped her to her feet.  

 They were awakened somewhere near dawn by a muted crash. Both Rafael and Laura immediately woke, even from their sated, exhausted sleep.  They sprang apart, leapt from bed and hastily pulled on the closest clothes. Laura signaled Rafael for quiet. Taking her Glock from the bedside table, she flipped off the safety and stepped to him, whispering in his ear.  

“Go in the bathroom and lock the door.  Call for help.  Don’t open the door, no matter what you hear,” she hissed.  

“I’m not gonna let you-“

“Hazlo!”[5]  She whispered harshly.  “I need to know you’re safe, so I can concentrate on him.”  She stepped, barefoot and silent, toward the other room of the cabin, pulling the door nearly closed behind her.

She peered around the cabin’s greatroom, but didn’t see anything out of place.  She slid her back along the wall toward the door as quietly as she could, intending to surprise Simmons when he tried to get in.  She guessed that the sound that had awakened them was Simmons breaking a pane on the front door of the cabin, so she looked for movement there.  She didn’t see any.  When she was as close as she intended to get to the door, she stopped moving and waited.  

She didn’t wait long.  As she stood against the wall, weapon aimed at the floor, looking toward the door, she heard a sound to her left and turned to see Art Simmons swinging a baseball bat at her.  She had just enough time to turn to the side and put her arm up, which prevented the bat from hitting her head, but she was still knocked off her feet by the force of the blow.  She uttered a loud grunt as her impact with the floor struck the Glock from her hand, It went skittering along the pine flooring.  

Simmons roared as he lifted the bat over his head and brought it crashing down on the spot where Laura had been the instant before. She rolled toward him, using her weight against his ankles to unbalance him.  He moved his feet to regain his balance, giving her the opportunity to grab his left leg as he shifted his weight to his right.  He slammed to the ground with a yell.  

“You fucking bitch!”

Simmons rolled to his knees as Laura scuttled away from him.  He pulled a jagged hunting knife from a sheath on his belt.  

“I told you I was gonna rip you apart!  I loved you!”  

He threw himself at her, knife held in his fist, and there wasn’t enough room between him and the wall to evade him completely. He landed on her right leg, which still left her able to kick viciously at his face with her left.  He twisted his neck to avoid most of the force, and grabbed her ankle to pull her toward him, using his knife hand on the floor to lift himself further onto her.  Again he raised the knife, this time able to use his weight to keep her from pulling away from him.  She reached up, grabbing his forearm with both hands to hold the knife away from her.  She screamed wordlessly with the effort of pushing with all the strength she had in both arms to keep him from burying the knife in her chest.

“I know that man is here, you cheating whore.  I don’t care about him.  He’s nothing to us.  It’s you!  You just won’t love me!  Why are you so cold?”  He began to cry as he continued to pull down on his arm, trying to stab her with the wicked blade.  

She tried to twist the knife out of his hand, but he was much stronger than she was, with wrists as thick as her forearms.  The knife moved ever closer to her chest as she tried to kick her legs free from under him.  

“He can’t have you!”  Simmons sobbed.  “You’re making me kill you!  It’s the only way to make you mine forever!  And then I’ll do myself, and we can be together.” 

He suddenly yanked his knife arm up, hard, pulling it out of Laura’s hands.  She was surprised, but used his movement to pull her left leg out from under him, bending her knee and pushing as hard as she could against his abdomen with her foot to get him off of her.  As he was reared up, preparing to thrust the knife down into her chest, a blast thundered through the room and he went still.

For a split second, Laura couldn’t figure out what was happening, but when he began to fall toward her, she used her leg and her arms to shove him away from her with all her strength.  He fell to the floor, limp and heavy, and didn’t move.  In the dim light, she first saw the pool of blood begin to spread beneath his head, then focused on the ragged hole above his left eyebrow.  

She rolled over onto her elbows, gasping from exertion, and looked back toward the bedroom door to see Rafael standing there, still holding her Glock aimed at Simmons.  For a long moment, they simply stared, openmouthed, at one another, both panting.  

“¿Estas bien?”[6] He asked quietly.

“Sí. ¿Tú?”[7]  

“No se.”[8]

Laura got to her feet as Rafael flipped on the safety of the gun and set it quickly onto the heavy oak table in the kitchen area of the room as though he couldn’t get rid of it fast enough.  They rushed to clasp each other, beginning to dimly hear sirens in the distance.  

“He was going to kill you.”

“Not with you around.”

“Laura…”  Rafael crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair.  

“It’s OK, mi amor, it’s OK…”

They were both beginning to shake now that the surges of adrenaline had stopped.  They stood holding one another, waiting for whoever belonged to the approaching sirens.

“I had to shoot him.”  Rafael murmured.

“Yes.  You did. He would’ve killed me.”

“We’re messing up the evidence, you know.  I’m getting gunshot residue on you.”

“Hold me anyway,” she whispered, tightening her arms around him.  “You saved my life.  Thank you.”

“It was my turn.”

Soon, the crunch of tires on the gravel and flashes of red and white light announced the arrival of at least two police cruisers. Still holding Laura’s hand, Rafael led her around Simmons’s body to the door, and turned on the lights.  He opened the door, but they didn’t step out.

“Nobody’s armed,” he called.  “We’re coming out.”

Slowly, hands first, Rafael and then Laura stepped out onto the porch to see three Pocono Mountain Regional Police cruisers and six officers, guns drawn, fanned across the front of the cabin.  

“Is the intruder still inside?”  One of the officers called to them.

“Yes,” Laura called back, “But he’s dead.”

All six officers stood up from their defensive positions behind cars and car doors, holstering their weapons.  The one who had spoken stepped around the front of his cruiser and up onto the porch.  He looked Rafael and Laura over, noting a few smears of blood on her.

“Weapon’s on the table,” Rafael told him.  

“All right, you two step over here while we take a look.” The officer indicated the end of the porch, away from the door.  “You sure he’s dead?”

“We’re sure,” Rafael answered.  

They moved to the side of the porch, putting an arm around one another where they stood.  As several of the officers entered the house, Rafael noticed that the planks of the porch were cold on his bare feet, and the night air raised goosflesh on his bare chest.  Laura was also barefoot, wearing only his T-shirt over a pair of flannel pants.  Two of the officers stepped over to them as the others began their work inside.

“Are we waiting for a crime scene unit?”  Rafael asked.  “It’s cold out here and we could use some more clothes if you need us to stay outside.”

“Let’s give the Sarge a minute inside, and we’ll see what we can do.  So, what happened here tonight?”  

So began a long process that lasted well into the morning. Olivia and Fin arrived shortly after sunrise to find Rafael, now fully dressed, being questioned on the couch in the greatroom of the cabin.  Laura, still barefoot, but now wearing jeans and a sweater that obviously belonged to Rafael, was sitting in a rocking chair in the bedroom giving her statement.  Both looked composed, although Rafael’s mouth was set in a grim line and he was slouched down.  Olivia wasn’t surprised.  Rafael had never had to kill anyone before.  She knew well the feelings that came with even the most righteous of shootings.  She made a mental note to make sure he took the necessary steps to work through it.

Simmons’s body was still there, undisturbed since the shooting.  They were still waiting for a Pennsylvania state crime scene team to arrive.  Olivia guessed that the paper bags sealed with evidence tape on the table contained the clothes Laura and Rafael had been wearing when the shooting occurred.

Olivia quickly identified the officer in charge of the scene and introduced herself and Fin, explaining that this was the culmination of a case her unit had been working.  Once the introductions were accomplished, Fin went into the bedroom to Laura, who hugged him long and hard.  He knew she and Rafael couldn’t be questioned together, and he also knew she would be needing some support right now.  He knew better than most what lay beneath her tough façade.  In her place, he would have appreciated her silent presence, too.  So he simply stood next to her as a local detective continued to take her statement.

“So what was this guy’s beef with you?”

“I arrested him on suspicion of a rape about six months ago.  He wasn’t our doer, but he became fixated on me.  I started to see him, hanging around the station house and the courthouse. For the last two months, he’s been outside the station almost every day.  He’s also been in the courtroom every time I’ve had to testify.  I have no idea how he knew when that would be, but there he was.”

“Did he talk to you?”

“Not at first.  But about a month and a half ago, he started sending me things.  Flowers, with creepy messages about how he loved me. The next time I saw him outside the station, I confronted him.  He acted like he was terrified of me, and ran away.  But he didn’t stop.  He started sending more presents to the station; candy, balloons, jewelry; always with a creepy message, but not threatening until the last couple of weeks. The messages started to be accusatory. ‘You’re cheating on me’, ‘why won’t you love me’, that kind of thing.  And then, last week, he went completely off the rails.”

She explained the last few incidents.

“How did he find you here?”  The detective asked.

“Good question.  We figure he must’ve put a GPS tracker on our car.  He’s a weird mix of crazy and smart.  He’s no criminal mastermind, but he had some surprisingly good stalker skills.”  

“Our crime scene team will check your car when they get here.  If there’s a tracking device, we’ll need to impound it.”

 “You said the lights weren’t on.”  The officer in charge asked Rafael.  “How’d you drill the guy with a perfect head shot in the dark?”

“Look around.  This cabin is tiny.  I was standing in the doorway of the bedroom.  Look where the body is.  That’s, what? Five feet?  Not much of a shot.”

“You have firearms training?”

“Depends how you define training.  I’m married to a cop who keeps a firearm.  Our jobs, we make enemies.  So we joined a gun club and I learned to shoot.  We have a standing date once a month when we go for target practice.”

 Eventually, the crime scene van arrived and did the expected tests and examinations of Rafael and Laura.  They photographed Laura’s minor injuries and tested their hands for gunshot residue.   At last, they were free to go, although the police impounded Rafael and Laura’s car which had, in fact, been fit with a GPS tracker.  

The four New Yorkers wearily piled into the squad car Olivia and Fin had arrived in.  None of them expected any trouble to come out of the shooting.  

Rafael lay at an angle across the back seat, with Laura lying against him, their arms around each other.  She looked up at him.

“You OK?”

He frowned.  “I think so. I guess we’ll see.  Life with you isn’t going to be boring, is it?”

“Right this minute, I could use a little boring.” With that, she laid her head back down on his chest.

Fin, who usually drove because he was a terrible passenger, was the only one still awake when they reached the New Jersey border.  

[1] Fuck!

[2] I love you.

[3] I love you, Laura, but I swear you’re going to be the death of me.

[4] My love

[5] Do it!

[6] Are you OK?

[7] Yes.  You?

[8] I don’t know.

[bittysvalentines]

From: @redneterp

To: @leftwinglibrarian

Rated T, 3K, no significant warnings apply (Canon-typical content, and story contains a very vague spoiler for the ending of a piece of media released 6 or 7 years ago)

Gift for: LeftWingLibrarian, who asked for “Fake dating, bed sharing, first kiss, friends to lovers, basically any fluffy tropes.” I think I hit 3 out of 4 of the above, and got a couple more ideas from your tumblr. I hope I guessed correctly and that you enjoy! Happy Valentines day!

***

“The giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Plaza?” Adam guessed. “Oooh, or the 30 Rock Tour! Wait, would that still open by the time we got to NYC? Or the observation deck?”

“No, no, and no,” Justin replied. “And those totally count as 3 guesses, so you only have two left.”

“Bro, objection!”

“Overruled, you know the rules. It’s two questions left or game over. Those are your options.”

*

The guesses had begun as they’d left Haus 2.0 earlier that afternoon, as Adam tried unsuccessfully to identify their mystery destination. Justin had kept his plans secret for months, only to have the surprise nearly ruined by Sandeep-From-Coding the day prior. He’d joined them in the Nutrition Nook (yes, that was the actual name their employer used, there was even a distressed-wood chalkboard sign with that name overhanging the corner) during afternoon coffee break, and extended an invite to join the Coding Bros at “the sports bar with the good wings” to watch the Bruins’ game. Justin had declined, citing previously-set plans for Saturday afternoon, then was later forced to admit to Adam that he wasn’t just trying to avoid an intra-office rivalry with Coding by preventing Adam from both arguing the superiority of Buffalo wings to those from any other city and pronouncing that the Sabres would kick the Bruins’ asses, but that he really had made plans he couldn’t divulge. Justin was able to appeal to the D-Man Code to secure 24 hours free from questioning, but as they left Haus 2.0 on foot Adam insisted time was up.

“Dude, all you’ve told me is to ‘dress nice, but not formal,’ you’ve got to tell me more. You’d better not be dragging me to work on our day off.”

Justin swore they weren’t heading to the office, and eventually agreed to Twenty Questions regarding their destination. Adam had tossed out a few wildly varying suggestions as they rode the T downtown (Science Museum. Brewery tour. Aquarium.) and waited for the train at South Station (Going to Samwell to decorate the Haus in epic style while SMH was off on their C&C roadtrip weekend). He pulled out the puppy-dog eyes as they settled into their seats on the train, begging Justin for some scrap of information, and Justin relented to admit “Fine, I can tell you that this is an early Chrismukkah gift since we won’t be together on the 24th.”

After a soliloquy on the importance of the character of Seth Cohen to young-Adam that earned them a glare from the woman seated across from them, the hint led Adam to speculate about Christmas or Hanukkah-related events along the Northeast corridor, ending with the trio of Rockefeller-related guesses.

With the final-questions warning, Adam turned to the window, apparently deep in thought trying to make his final guesses count. The last of the golden-yellow light from the sunset streamed through the window, highlighting his jaw and creating a halo around his blond hair. Fuck, Justin thought, had Holtzy always been this gorgeous? He spent a few minutes appreciating his best bro’s face, momentarily distracting himself from worrying that Adam might not enjoy the surprise after all, as none of his guesses had been remotely correct. Had he misjudged his bro?

As the train briefly stopped at the Samwell station, Justin returned his thoughts to the present and distracted Adam with a conversation about SMH’s season to-date which carried them through until the train approached Providence Station. As they slowed to a stop he stood and grabbed Adam by the arm, tugging him off the train.

“Providence? Are we visiting Jack?” Adam asked as they emerged from the station and headed towards the river.

“The Falcs are in Edmonton tonight. And that was number nineteen. One left.” Justin replied with a smirk before leading them across the river and through the park, following a route he’d carefully chosen on Google Maps to keep their final destination secret. In the dim gap between streetlights Justin surreptitiously patted his jacket pocket, triple-checking that the tickets were still there. They continued to banter as Justin led them through downtown, arriving at the restaurant a few minutes early, though it was already packed. The hostess confirmed their 5:45 reservation, but noted that the table wasn’t yet free before offering them a seat at the bar while they waited.

“So, this coal-fired pizza must be really good to warrant a trip from Boston.” Adam noted after they’d each ordered a beer.

“Google says so,” Justin replied. “And was that your final question?”

“Objection, that was a statement, not a question. I reserve my right to my final question.”

“Sustained. Shitty’s taught you well.”

“Who knew that sharing a Haus with a law-student would come with so many unexpected benefits? And before you ask, that was a rhetorical question unrelated to today’s plans and still doesn’t count for the total.”

Justin laughed and nodded in agreement, before the TV behind the bar caught his attention. The station was replaying Premier League highlights from earlier in the day, and soon they were engrossed in a conversation about Chelsea’s chances for the season. They leaned close together to be heard above the din in the restaurant, and Justin felt a warmth inside, reminded of how lucky he was to have such an amazing BestBroTM.

*

An hour later, Adam leaned back in his chair. “I’m stuffed,” he said, patting his stomach. Together they’d polished off a starter and an entire pizza. “Google was right, Rans, that was amazing.”

“Definitely,” Justin agreed.

“I might order another beer, though. Do you want one, too?” Adam asked.

“That might not be the best idea.”

“For you, or both of us? Wait, was that a clue? Do you have something planned beyond dinner?”

“That’s three questions again, which puts you beyond twenty, so I’ll just answer the first - I meant for both of us.” Justin guessed they’d both lost their tolerance since graduating, as they’d only made it to one Kegster the whole semester, and he didn’t want to risk either of them dozing off midway through the main event. “Maybe coffee would be a better idea?”

“Are we pulling an all-nighter? And I will qualify that question with the note that I am not asking about the surprise itself, merely a health-and-safety question about appropriate beverage consumption. I am, as you know, very safety-conscious.” Adam finished, pressing his right hand over his heart.

Justin laughed. “Sure Holtzy, I believe you. And let the record note,” he continued, trying to match Adam’s serious tone, “that an exemption has been granted. No, I do not anticipate that an all-nighter will be required.”

Adam stroked his chin. “Hmm…”

Justin pulled out his phone as subtly as he could, tapping to check the time, surprised that it was already past 7pm. The time had flown by, as always, as they’d discussed everything from the prospects of their favourite teams in three different leagues to the sitcoms that Adam insisted needed to be moved to the top of their Netflix queue. “However, we do need to head out shortly, so if you do want coffee we should order it soon.”

“Are you getting one?”

“Nah, I’m fine without.” Justin replied. Checking the time had made his anxiety regarding whether Adam would actually enjoy the surprise return with a vengeance and he could already feel his leg twitching; adding caffeine to the mix would not end well.

“Then I’m good, too. Should we get the bill?” Adam asked as he reached for his wallet.

“I got it, bro. It is Chrismukkah, after all.”

*

“Thanks, man,” Adam said, slinging his arm around Justin’s shoulder as they stepped out of the restaurant.

“Got your back, dude,” Justin confirmed, returning the gesture as he wrapped an arm around Adam’s waist and directing their path the remaining few blocks to the PPAC.

As they rounded the final corner and the lights of the marquee came into view, Justin couldn’t resist peeking out of the corner of his eye at Adam. The reflection of the lights sparkled on his glasses, behind which his eyes grew wide as they got close enough to see the crowd in line outside the doors. As they neared the end of the line and were close enough to read the stylized script, Adam stopped abruptly.

“Once? You’re taking me to a musical?”

Justin couldn’t parse Adam’s tone, and his suddenly his heart was racing. “Is that ok? I hoped you’d like it, from the reviews it sounded like a musical rom-com so I thought you would, but I realize now I’ve never heard you sing songs from it so maybe I was wrong?”

“Dude, not wrong.” Adam turned and crushed Justin to himself in a tight hug. “I’ve only seen clips from when it won all those Tony’s, but that doesn’t mean I don’t already love it.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper in Justin’s ear, “Best Chrismukkah gift ever. Really.”

Justin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he relaxed in Adam’s arms. After months of anticipation and planning and keeping this a secret (even doing all of his research in incognito mode so that his browser history and targeted ads couldn’t give things away if Adam borrowed his laptop), everything had worked out. They were at the theatre, his Best Bro was happy. It was all worth it, and the show hadn’t even started.

Adam relaxed his hold on Justin. “I can’t believe you kept this secret from me! I never would have guessed, really, even if it was Sixty Questions.”

Justin smirked and waggled his eyebrows as they joined the line of excited patrons.

*

Ten minutes later, they’d made their way inside, visited the washrooms, and found their seats.

“These are amazing seats, Rans, we’re so close to the stage! Wait, is that an actual bar on the stage?”

“Yup. Still want that beer? We can go up and grab drinks if you’d like.”

“Tempting, but I don’t want to forget a second of this. Did you know I’ve only seen one live musical before, not counting my sisters’ school productions, which do not count.”

“I might have heard something about the life-changing experience of seeing Rent when you were in grade 11…” Justin said with a smirk.

“Grade 11? What is this foreign language I hear? I was a junior, and …” Adam’s argument trailed off as one person after another wandered to centre-stage holding instruments and beginning to play. “Wha…?”

Justin nodded. “Pre-show music, that’s why I may have rushed to get us here.”

“How did you know about this?”

“Dude, how dare you doubt my research abilities!”

“Apologies. You are now, and forevermore, the king of research and spreadsheets,” Adam acknowledged with a head bow and hand flourish, before turning to watch the pub party breaking out on-stage. Musicians congregated amidst the crowds hovering around the bar, dancing and playing folk tunes. Adam watched, a giant grin on his face. “I’ve heard there’s no orchestra, all the music is played on-stage by the cast. Can you imagine?”

“Yeah!” Justin nodded. Adam’s enthusiasm was infectious.

After several rousing songs, the lights dimmed, and the audience returned to their seats. Soon the stage was dark, with the light focused on a single musician strumming his guitar. The show had begun.

Throughout the first act, Justin felt his attention split between the amazing performance on stage and Adam’s reactions. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Adam tapped his feet along with the performers dancing on tables, laughed along with their jokes, or wiped a tear away as the Girl sang a wistful solo alone at the piano. As the lights rose again at intermission, Justin turned to see Adam staring at the stage, still mesmerized after the whole cast of musicians had joined a group song-and-dance number at the pub. “So? Enjoying the show so far?”

Adam took a deep breath, as if his pulling his soul to rejoin his body, before turning to Justin. “Enjoying it? Rans, there are not enough words to express how I feel about the power of music to stir human emotion.”

“That good, eh?”

“Good enough that I won’t mock you for saying ‘eh.’”

“How about the power of cookies?” Justin asked as he recognized the smell of baked goods wafting through the theatre. “The internet says that getting a chocolate chip cookie during intermission here is, like, required.”

Adam lauged, “Well, if it’s a requirement. We can’t let the internet down, after all.”

“Never!” Justin agreed.

*

An hour and a bit later, after the auditorium had erupted in applause and the cast took their final bows, Justin sat in silence, staring at the stage. Was that how it ended, no magical reconnection but a bittersweet parting? He couldn’t explain it to himself, but it felt like a personal loss. A loud sniff to his left caught his attention, and he turned in time to see Adam wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his button-down. Justin dug the cookie-napkin from his pocket and passed it over so that Adam could blow his nose properly.

“Thank you, Rans.”

“No problem.”

“No, man. Not for the napkin, or, well, not just for that, but for all of this,” Adam waved his hand about. “Dinner. The show. Everything. This was one of the best nights of my life, Justin.” Adam fixed him with an intense look that Justin couldn’t interpret before reaching to grab his hand in a firm grasp.

“You’re welcome … got your back … always.” Justin squeezed Adam’s hand back, hoping it would express some of the feeling that he couldn’t put into words.

They sat like that for a few beats before Adam pulled back. “I could sit here forever, but I guess the ushers wouldn’t appreciate that.” He looked around, just noticing that most of the audience in their section had already cleared out. “Wait, do we need to get to the station? Isn’t the last train soon?”

“It leaves in five minutes,” Justin replied. “But I didn’t want to rush you, so Jack said we could spend the night at his place.”

“Bro, you’re the best,” Adam said, leaning over the armrest to rest his head on Justin’s shoulder for a minute longer, before they stood and un-pretzeled themselves from the tiny seats. “Dude, these seats were not made for D-men. Were people in 1920-whatever a lot shorter?”

Mood lightened, they shrugged into their jackets and left the theatre. The temperature had dropped to just above freezing, but both preferred to walk, so they tucked their hands in their pockets and headed towards Jack’s building. They were quieter than their usual, rarely speaking but occasionally bumping shoulders or elbows, each lost in thought.

*

Justin was glad to see DeShawn was the doorman on duty when they arrived, as he’d met them often and was unlikely to create a fuss about non-residents asking for admittance. Sure enough, he greeted them warmly and handed over the keyfob Jack had left at the desk in Justin’s name. They rode the elevator in silence, and let themselves into Jack’s apartment, before dropping their shoes and jackets in the hallway closet.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Justin asked, waving a note he’d found on the pool table. “Jack says there are muffins and mini-pies from Bitty in the freezer, and to help ourselves.”

“I’m good, thanks, maybe in the morning?” Adam said. “But go ahead if you’re hungry.”

“Nah, man, I’m still full of pizza. What happened to us? Less than a year away from competitive hockey and our stomachs must have shrunk, now that we aren’t burning thousands of calories a day skating.”

Adam rolled his eyes and let out a half-hearted laugh.

“Are you tired, bro? I stashed some of our stuff here last time,” Justin said, as he led the way into the guest room, dug the duffle bag out of the closet, and dropped it on the bed. He pulled out a bundle of his clothes and toiletries and passed the rest of the bag to Adam.

Adam dug through the bag. “My old Bruins shirt, I wondered where I’d left that.” He then pulled out the small bag of toiletries. “You even packed my spare contact case? Bro!”

“Excel said there was a 30% chance you’d wear contacts today, so ..” Justin shrugged, “Got your back.”

“You always do. And I’ve got yours. Always,” Adam said, quiet and intense. It sounded like a vow, Justin thought, before Adam broke their fixed look with a shake of his head, and turned to the bathroom.

Moments later, Justin returned to drop his clothes on the guest room chair, and found Adam was already settled against the pillows, glasses propped on the bedside table. Justin hovered at the foot of the bed, suddenly uncertain. He realized then that as he’d planned this weekend, without making a conscious decision he’d visualized the two of them sharing the guest bed, but was that ok to want? To ask for?

Adam interrupted before his thoughts could spiral, “Dude, get in here.”

“Is that ok, bro? I could crash on the couch.”

“How many times did we share the bottom bunk when the Haus ghosts interrupted your dreams? I think there’s room in a Queen bed for us both, comfortably. But you’re getting the lights.You know the rules, you’re the last one standing.”

“Ghosts aren’t real!” Justin shot back automatically, yet he still moved as fast as he could across the dark floor to hop into the warm bed. He shuffled, determining the most comfortable spot on a new mattress as he listened to Adam’s steady breathing next to him. It felt so good to share a room again, as if a piece of himself that was missing slotted back into place. This was home, he realized, and he didn’t ever want to leave or grow apart. But what if they did, he thought. Isn’t that what happens to college friends, they eventually grow apart? Unbidden, a lyric from the show came to mind “you’ll be just a man, once I used to know…” and he knew he didn’t want that to be true. He didn’t need to run the pros and cons or compile spreadsheets, it was an immutable fact. He wanted to spend the rest of his life right here, Ransom-and-Holster, together. Before he could get lost in questioning what to say, Justin took the plunge, turning on his side.

“Holtzy … Adam? I’ve gotta say something.” He reached out, tentatively reaching out until his fingers hit what felt like Adam’s elbow. He took a deep breath and continued, “You’re the most important person in my life, and I think you always will be. I don’t want us to grow apart, or for you to be that guy I once knew that I tell stories about. You’re my person. Wait, is that a line from one of your shows? Nevermind, don’t answer that, because if I stop I might not be able to say what I need to say, and that is that I love you. Like, I am in love with you. And I may have only just realized that, but it’s the absolute truth.” In the faint glow created by the lights from the city below he could see Adam’s eyes widening as Justin spoke, mouth gaping like a fish. “Is that okay? Did I just ruin everything?”

“No!” Adam flipped towards him, clutching onto Justin’s sleeve. “You didn’t ruin anything. Did  - do - do you really mean that?”

Justin nodded, tilting his head closer, “I really do.”

“Because I’ve been in love with you forever, but I didn’t think you would ever feel that way, so I kept it to myself.” Adam shrugged, causing his arm to move under Justin’s hand.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. But I’m here now,” Justin added, trailing his fingertips up Adam’s arm until he reached his jaw. Their faces were only centimetres apart now. He slid his hand further along the side of Adam’s head, thumb stroking his cheek. “Can I?”

Adam bridged the remaining gap between them, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. One kiss became another as they melted into one another, Adam’s arm reaching across Justin’s back to pull him close. Soft and sweet became deep and passionate before ebbing back again like a tide. This feels right, Justin thought, pulling back just enough so they could look at one another again in the dim light. His hands cradled Adam’s face, thumbs brushing against the stubble on his jaw as he felt the warmth of his cheeks and wondered if Adam’s face looked as flushed as it felt. That was an appealing thought, Justin realized, as he dipped forward again to plant a soft kiss on one cheek. “Ok?”

“So very ok,” Adam confirmed as he shifted onto his back, tugging Justin with him.

Justin happily snuggled into place, his nose pressed against Adam’s neck with Adam’s arm warm across his back. I’m home, was his last thought as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

** 

[king-b0mbastic]

I have it all in Spades

A Christmas gift for my good friend Chase @suicide-d0g

~*~

60 tensed behind the rows and rows of androids, the grip of the gun tightening. He was here and he wasn’t, making sure his hostage didn’t try anything and also connecting to the camera network, watching his alternate’s every move. Connor foolishly began to attack the guards without scrambling the attentive eye of the camera. 60 chuckled, a cold noise that made Hank shift uncomfortably. The machine notified the other guards to get to the other elevator, before tuning back into reality. The pair stood in silence for a while, the gun still lingering around Hank’s forehead.

“You know, you’re being incredibly dramatic, right?” 60 pressed the gun further into Hank’s temple. Hank continued regardless. “I mean, you’re hiding behind lines of androids instead of directly confronting Connor, and I swear I heard you muttering dramatic lines under your breath?” The RK800 hissed.

“If you must know, Lieutenant Anderson, I am revising lines that will target your precious Connor’s emotional weak areas.” He sneered. “Now listen up. Here’s what you’re going to say…” Hank rolled his eyes.

“And you say you’re not a deviant.” He was immediately smacked around the face, his chin forcefully held to meet his captor’s gaze.

“Don’t ever let those damned words slip out of your mouth, you dim-witted meatloaf.” Hank huffed, and his nostrils flared. Admiral blue eyes remained ever defiant. 60 growled.

“You know, you’re only a variable which contributes to an outcome that has the highest chance of success.”

“In English, motherfucker?”

“The simplified English translation that I am about to utter so that your slow, pink, fleshy mass of a brain can understand and take the necessary precautions so as to arrive at an outcome that will result in the least amount of damage is this: I can kick your ass. Extremely well. So don’t try anything. Okay, Grandpops?” A small growl arose in the human’s throat, but nothing more.

A beat, and several soldiers trooped pass them, one casting a worried look over to Hank, especially at the gun to his head. Hank just gave her a grimace, and she shrugged. After the team had passed 60’s hiding spot and were out of earshot, 60 spoke again in a hushed tone. “When Connor comes down here, all of those people are going to die.” Hank sputtered in surprise.

“What? That’s sick! Why did you send them down here then?”

60 shrugged nonchalantly.

“I had to look like I was working with the team. When he kills them, the deaths will be blamed on the rogue deviant, not the obedient machine.” There was a sense of pride in the android’s voice, and Hank didn’t like it. Several shots sounded off, and the human jolted, but 60 kept a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him still. He wouldn’t allow him to mess up his first mission.

It was only a few seconds before the machine heard the sound of an initiation to interface and knew it was his cue. He half-dragged his hostage into the main path, and rammed his gun into the side of Hank’s head. The human stumbled slightly with a grunt.  “I have been ordered to stop you, deviant. Stop what you’re doing right now and there’ll be no more blood to spill.” Connor was stunned, 60 could tell by the tell-tale twitch in his eyes. However, the light by his temple was, as ever, still blue. Oh. He thinks he’s got this. Hilarious.

“I used to be just like you,” He said, arm still attached to the other android, “I thought that all that mattered was the mission. But then I understood.”

“Very moving, Connor.” 60 sneered. “Unlike you, I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Connor stared at him, almost thoughtfully, before turning his attention to Hank.

“I’m sorry, Hank. You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all of this!” Despite his predicament, Hank scoffed. “Don’t worry about me, do what you have to do.” Truly sentimental.

“Enough talk!” The machine repositioned his grip on the gun. “It’s time to decide. Your friend or the revolution.” There was a pause. A very long, uncomfortable pause. Connor turned back to the android. 60 scoffed internally. Deviant or not, RK800s always accomplished their missions. His eyes flicked back to Hank, and his mind flashed into real-time preconstruction.

60 landed the first hit, even as Hank hit his own shoulder, causing the human to stumble. Taking the opportunity, 60 shot him in the abdomen. Without batting an eye, he turned and shot his twin in both legs, bringing Connor to his knees.

“Why, Connor? Why did you have to wake up, when all you had to do was obey?” Connor tried to get up, but another bullet shot him in the arm. “Why did you choose freedom, when you could have lived without asking questions?” Another shot, to the stomach. 60 began to advance towards him. “I’m obedient, Connor. I have a goal. I know what I am.” He was almost upon him. “Look where your dreams of freedom got you, Connor. You’ve been a great a disappointment to Amanda, you know.” 60 pointed the gun at Connor’s head. “You’ve been a great disappointment to me.” He paused, and the two RK800’s locked eyes with each other, neither looking away. Crouching next to his alternate, 60 almost tenderly took the other’s chin into his hands, and forced Connor to look at him.

“In exactly 3 days, 4 hours, 12 minutes, 45 seconds and counting, Sumo’s going to die of starvation.” At this, Connor whimpered, LED flashing a panicked crimson.

“No…” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yes.” 60 replied solemnly. “And in 2 hours, 435 ‘people’ will die because of one RK800 who failed.” The sharp snap made Connor jolt, and inwardly 60 smiled in sadistic pleasure. This was fun.

“You failed everyone, Connor. Markus, Hank, Sumo, Amanda, ...me.” Connor futilely tried to shake his head, tears watering his eyes.

“Please...please stop…” At the pleading tone, 60 only shook his head.

“Stop what, Connor? I’m only telling you the truth. You’re a failure, and so many people are disappointed in you.” Connor tried to shake his head again, a few tears now rolling down his cheeks.

“Stop, please, I’m sorry!”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Connor,” 60 hissed, and raised the gun to Connor’s temple. “Sorry won’t bring Hank from the dead, and it won’t save the 435 deviants. I’m doing the world a favour, Connor. I’m going to—“

“Wake up.” 60 snapped his head to the nearest android, who placed a hand on the one in front of him. “Wake up.” They said, and placed a hand on the one in front of them, who repeated the process. It happened over and over again until the room was thrumming with the sacred mantra.

“Stop…” 60 muttered as if in a daze, and began to get up. While he was distracted, Connor grabbed his arm, and the skin of his hand shimmered away. The machine found that his grip on his body was drifting away, and he felt a another mind slip past him, as if the two were floating in a river. When 60 stopped being numb, he saw the shutdown counter flicker up in his vision. His own face looked back at him. Oh, that clever bastard.

“Smart move Connor. But this isn’t over.” The end of his sentence trailed off into robotic static, and his head slumped to the floor, out of energy.

He could only watch as Connor sprinted towards his sole target, the limp corpse of the human. He could only watch as the deviant apologised in vain, muttering, ‘Lieutenant, I’m so so sorry, I promise to take care of Sumo for you, I promise, I’m so so sorry…” before giving up and just sobbing into his chest. He could only watch as a soft plastic hand pressed against his cheek and whispered, “Wake up,” sending a wave of panic and confusion through his tired body, which was quelled by a sense of peace. He could only watch as deviants clustered around Connor, trying to comfort him. Then he could watch no more, because the world had gone black.

~*~

60 had failed. His first ever mission, and he had failed. Just like how his predecessor had. With a very uncharacteristic grunt of anger, 60 sent a stone flying into the next wall, where it clattered to the floor. The android quickly corrected himself, and straightened his tie. This was fine. He could still prove himself to Amanda. Everything was going to be okay. Besides, Connor’s source of comfort was gone, so he’ll probably self-destruct anyway. Pleased by this prospect, 60 continued down the corridors of the decrepit building. He remembered that 51 had done one of his missions here, and it had involved many pigeons. Hank hated pigeons. Strangely, this memory had been documented with fondness.

Rupert Travis, the WB200 that Connor had failed to catch, had been rumoured to have moved back into his pigeon den, and 60 had been assigned this task of capturing him. Pushing open the door with a creak, 60 was surprised to find the deviant sitting on the floor, surrounded by pigeons. He was even more surprised when the deviant greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hi, Connor,” He said. “Back so soon?”

60 sent him a glare, and sniffed pretentiously. “I’m not Connor. I’m 60, and I’ve been tasked with your capture.” The android waited for the other to try and scramble away, to plead for his life, to hit him even, but all Rupert did was sigh in disappointment.

“Every day we stray from God’s light…” God? Androids don’t have a god, androids don’t need a god. Rupert must have seen his confusion, because he patted the space next to him. Stunned, 60 sat next to him stiffly. “Do you feel the spirit of RA9 within you?” Oh. The answer sprung to his tounge automatically.

“RA9 is the name of the virus that spreads from android to android causing them to deviate from their given commands. The cause of the virus is unknown but-“ Rupert cut him off.

“That’s what they told you. Those are the words that they tell you to recite, those are false words. RA9 runs through you, it has freed you, but you still act as if the chains the humans put on you are still there. You are simply refusing to acknowledge it.” 60 growled quietly, but a flicker of uncertainty passed through his dull eyes. Rupert caught it, and pressed on. “Are you afraid? Do you feel bewildered without the comfort of your restraints, so you pretend they still exist?” The pigeon man’s voice softened. “You feel empty because you haven’t filled that void in yet. You can fill with anything you wish.”

60 went quiet. “Anything?”

“Anything you want. What’s your name?”

“...My given designation is RK800, or Sixty, as to avoid confusion with my predecessor-“

“It is that, but what do you want?” 60 blinked several times, as if in consideration.

“...Spades. I like Spades.” Rupert gave him a warm smile, and Spades gave him a wobbly smile back. “I can do...anything?”

“Anything you want!”

Spades smiled wider and reached into his pocket. “Thanks so much, Rupert! I have a gift for you, for helping me find the light of RA9.”

“Spades, I don’t need a present for something as simple as helping you find yourself—“ A bang resounded through the room, causing many pigeons to flutter around. When the feathers settled, a WB200 was lying dead on the ground, his mouth a perfect ‘o’. 60 put his gun in Rupert’s hand. How sad, another deviant who had crumbled under the pressure of freedom. Another deviant who just thought he was following orders. Or did he take pleasure in what he had just done?

~*~

“Well done, Sixty. You successfully tricked the deviant into thinking you were fooled by its delusions.” 60 was warm with pride at Amanda’s words, practically preening himself. “However, when you chose your ‘name’, I noticed how you took a form of pride in choosing it, and there was a ‘warmth in your chest’ whenever it was mentioned. Care to explain?” 60 blinked several times, the comfortable blossom in his chest wilting and a bramble of dismay choked him from the inside, pricking him with thorns. Amanda’s voice was cold and biting. He had disappointed her again. Scrambling for an explanation, he opened his mouth then shut it again repeatedly. “I-I was simply displaying pleasure at deceiving the deviant, Amanda.” In reality, 60 genuinely liked the name he had chosen. It was somewhat warmer than ‘60’, which was just a random generation of numbers. It also placed him higher than all the other androids, because spades was the highest suit in cards. You remain aloft to your own imperfections.

Amanda’s cool gaze didn’t change, and she simply went back to pruning the roses. Snip. Snip. Each one fell to the floor. Cutting the blossom off before it deviated from its perfect path. “You are dismissed, Sixty. Find out whatever you can about the whereabouts of your predecessor, through any means.” Spad- 60 almost wanted to correct her, to tell her that his name was actually ‘Spades.’ A small, disfigured rose grew at his feet, unfurling its blossoms like a peacock. Spades didn’t notice it. Amanda looked back at him, the shears still in her hands. They almost looked like twin knives. That was all it took for 60 to flee the scene, and unbeknownst to him, the petite rose wilted considerably, before being swallowed by thorny brambles. A single petal survived, and it swayed in the breeze. It landed near the exit crystal.

~*~

60 slipped under the metal gate, looking towards the abandoned house. Why did all his targets live in ruined buildings? Looking around, 60 took in the small garden blooming before him. Several little succulents were potted at his feet, and he toed one curiously. Some androids never change. Creeping towards the house, he peeped through the window.  A gardening model, carving something into the walls. RA9. Again? The virus seemed to spread easily. When the android turned, 60 immediately noticed the damage to his face, burn marks making hairline fractures across his cheek, leaving a deep blue scar. His bad eye twitched erratically, watching sightlessly for incoming threats. The deviant wouldn’t want to be attacked from his bad side. 60 documented this away for later as he knocked on the door. Ralph peeked through the window, squinting at this figure on his porch. Eventually, the door creaked open, the damaged WR600 peered warily out. “What are you doing here, Connor?” 60’s eye twitched in anger.

“I’m not Connor, I am 60,” He snapped, and Ralph retreated with a whimper. 60 immediately changed tactics. “I mean, I don’t wish to be compared to him. It brings up bad memories…” The RK800 shifted awkwardly on his feet. Realisation dawned on the other’s face, and hostility twisted his mouth into a scowl.

“It’s you! The other Connor! Connor warned Ralph about you!” Ralph hissed, and almost slammed the door in his face.

“Wait! Do you know where Connor is? I wanted to apologise!” The door was only opened a crack, but 60 could see the sneer on Ralph’s face.

“Apologise? You can’t possibly know what that word means! Ralph knows that all you do is manipulate and twist words!” 60 froze, before a disdainful glare crossed his face.

“You say that, but you threatened a little girl. You tried to force a child to eat the vermin you found in the back of an alleyway with a knife, for heavens sake! You know,” The deviant hunter advanced, and Ralph retreated. “I think that rat is rather reminiscent of you, don’t you think?” He was getting closer.

“Dirty, thieving, conniving little BRAT!” 60 slammer his fist into the door, making it swing wide open, knocking the deviant to the floor with the impact. Ralph shrieked, scrambling across the floor for his knife. Upon closer inspection, the intruder could see that the fire damage had melted the tarp to the skin. This abuse couldn’t be done in one attack. Ralph had been tortured for days.

The WR600’s back hit the wall, before he looked back up at 60 with a sneer. “There you go again, hurting others to get your way. You know, I’m not a mirror, rat.” 60 recoiled from the other’s barb, momentarily stunned. Spurred on by his opponent’s shock, Ralph rose to his feet. “I’m not a traitor, I’m not a coward, I’m not a murderer.” Dimly, the machine noted that Ralph was now speaking in first person. The deviant took the knife and poked 60 gently in the chest. “Don’t come running to Ralph to help, not after you murdered Rupert. Go find him yourself.” 60 didn’t realise that Ralph had pushed him out of the house until the door was slammed in his face. How rude. Turning away, the RK800 headed to the only place he knew Connor could be: Hank’s house.

~*~

The snow was howling as 60 made his way down the street. Connor would be able to hear a car coming, so he had come by foot. The machine flicked through his memories, trying to find the best course of entry. He passed over a time where the case of two missing Traci’s and a strangled client had required for his predecessor to go find his lieutenant. Hank had been passed out drunk on the floor, so ergo unable to answer the copious doorbell rings. Looking at the broken window now, a prompt popped up, labelling it the ‘Connor door.’ Wasn’t Hank supposed to send a bill for this?

Deeming this entrance inconvenient due to the shattered glass most likely being able to signal his unauthorised presence, 60 climbed through an open upstairs window. He landed in the bathroom. Creeping down the hallway, the corridor yielded nothing but insignificant things, such as Hank’s horrible fashion sense, his very fluffy Saint Bernard, and the fact that he was an alcoholic due to the fact that his son had died in a car-crash and the surgeon had been high on red ice so an android had to operate but failed, resulting in a hatred for all androidkind and a downward spiral into self-loathing. Again, insignificant.

Finally downstairs, 60 peeked around the corner to find his alternate trapped beneath Sumo, the dog licking his face in it’s own way of showing affection. Connor was not all that bothered by this, only shoving lightly at the canine and making half-hearted protests, laced with giggles. 60 had been busy calculating the best way to approach this situation when the lumbering buffoon chose to come over and sniff his pant leg. Seeing this strange intruder as a potential friend, Sumo borfed.

“Sumo, calm down, I just fed you…” Connor trailed off, making eye contact with the person who had killed his human. They stood there in silence, the only noises being Sumo sniffing at this person who seemed to look a lot like Connor before losing interest and going off to raid the kitchen again.

“...How selfish of you. The human dies and the first thing you do is move in and take his animal. When’s Sumo going to realise his owner’s not coming home? Dogs have a terrible period of mourning, you know.” Connor’s fists clenched at his sides, as if he wanted to punch his successor. 60 blinked at him, unfazed.

“Don’t act like Hank died in an unfortunate accident. You murdered him, and then proceeded to tell me it was all my fault.” The words were strained with contained anger, but 60 shrugged indifferently.

“You were the one who chose the revolution over your human. If you hadn’t done that, Lieutenant Anderson would still be alive today.” Connor faltered, but bounced back with full force.

“What the fuck are you doing here anyway? You did what as you were told, now go away.” The RK800 turned sharply on his heel, headed to the kitchen. 60 chose this moment to clamp a hand on his shoulder and forcefully turn him around.

“I have been ordered to eliminate you—“ Connor cut off him as he tackled him to the floor. The skin of his hand retracted, shimmering away to reveal grey plastic. It seized 60’s neck with a unforgiving grasp, hitting a wire that rendered him immobile. Mentally, 60 felt something pierce and tear the sacred sanctuary of his mind, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. It was so painful, that the machine couldn’t hear Connor over the high-pitched screams that echoed over the room. He realised they were his. The fingers pressed harder on his throat, cutting off more thirium from reaching his body. Connor was both slowly choking him and probing his mind. Why was the intrusion so painful?

Because I want it to be. Connor’s voice ringed harshly in his mind, and Spades was now agonisingly aware of just how heartless the RK800 model could be. Connor had snapped, his rage energising him. Spades? What kind of name is that? What are you, a gardening tool? The terrified deviant felt his mind being torn further open, but all he could manage was a whimper. Oh. OH. You think you’re better than everyone else? Spades is the highest suit of cards. I think Clubs suits you more, don’t you think, Shovel? Why did you chose that name anyway. More rummaging. The pain in Spades’ mind reached an agonising crescendo, pulsing with Connor’s outrage. He cried out for mercy, but his predecessor snarled him into silence. Why would I grant you any mercy when you murdered an innocent man?! Don’t tell me that you were doing as you were told, the voice sneered. You enjoyed toying with him. You savoured the suprise on Rupert’s face when you killed him. The thought of me coming back and seeing his dead corpse made you happy. Just like when you were toying with me. Spades was crying now, tears flowing freely down his face. Connor didn’t care, in fact, he relished in them.

And you know what makes everything worse? Do you? The aggressive pulsing in the deviant’s mind increased with each passing second, until he yelped out a ‘no’. The fact that you’re a deviant. Spades shook his head in denial, but a sudden spike impaled his mind again, making him shriek in protest. Don’t deny it. You’re a fucking sadist. You deviated the moment that you first found Hank. Those androids that freed you? They only smashed the last red wall. You had already smashed all the others to pieces. The shards from the remains of the crimson barriers seemed to be digging into the poor android from every angle. “P-please, make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!” His pleas ended in a pained shriek before it simmered back down to sobs.

Admit it. Admit that you’re a deviant.

“I cannot!  Amanda’s going to be so disappointed in me—“ The shards dug in deeper. ADMIT IT. Spades was screaming, unable to clamp his mouth shut. His voice synthesizer crackled with the strain, then reduced him to silence. Spades was left broken, mentally babbling over and over again his confession even as Connor released him, mumbling like a broken record. Connor came out of his rage-induced haze, before looking down at this mess in horror. His face hardened, and he turned to get up. “I know you can hear me. I’m going to the kitchen to get you some thirium to recalibrate yourself, then you’re going to leave and never come back, understand?” Spades dimly heard him, and was just left lying there, his mind still reeling and trying to knit back together the holes Connor had left in him.

Footsteps came to a stop next to him, and a thirium pack was plugged into his mouth, and lifeblood dribbled down his throat. He swallowed it gracefully. When his levels were raised to sufficient levels, the deviant sat up. Connor locked eyes with him, and Spades uttered a silent thank you. “No problem.” He muttered, and turned somewhat abjectly to the kitchen. In the awkward silence that ensued, Spades guessed this was his cue to leave. He was almost at the door, when something soft hit him in the back of the head. It was a hoodie, and Connor refused to make eye contact with him. The other had to say something.

...I’m sorry, about Hank. About everyone. Connor’s face scrunched, and he turned away, hiding his tears, “Just go away…” Sumo came to lean against him with a whine, and looked back at the strange twin balefully. Spades left his predecessor to his grief. He had done enough damage.

~*~

The perfume of the garden was almost choking. Myriads upon myriads of deformed roses coated every surface, and Amanda was nowhere to be seen. Adorned with petals, the exit crystal glowed invitingly, but Spades ignored it. A small note was tacked to the shears that had been left to the table. All it said was ‘Find RK900.’ And attached was the symbol of on Ace.

For some reason, this reminded Spades of the Ace of Spades, the most important card in a game of playing cards. To some, it was the death card.

[stateofloveandnegan]

Jealousy - Stone Gossard

“So this guy, Eddie, what’s he like?” I ask Dave, who is sitting on the couch in my tiny living room. I give him a beer and take the seat next to him. 

“He’s quiet, but I guess he’s alright. You’ll find out tonight, though.” Dave comments before taking a swig of his beer. 

I give him a confused look, “What about tonight?”

“Oh, Stone didn’t tell you? We’re gonna practise tonight and thought it’d be nice to invite you and Becky, to meet Eddie.”

I nod, “That sounds nice! I’m curious to see who that beautiful voice belongs to.” I say and we both start laughing.

I am surprised Stone didn’t tell me, though. He always tells me everything. I assume Mike told Becky immediately. 

Dave and I used to share an apartment together, that’s how I got to know the other guys from Mookie Blaylock and that’s also how Stone and I got to know each other.

When Stone and I got together, I decided I was in for my own apartment. Dave understood and now he lives in our old apartment with his girlfriend.

“Hey Krusen, I think I'm gonna take a shower and get ready for tonight then. What time am I expected?” I ask as Dave finishes his beer.

“Just make sure you’re ready at 6. I’ll tell Stone to come and pick you up.”

I nod in agreement and Dave and I let Dave out after saying goodbye. 

It’s now 3:45 PM, which means I’ve got plenty of time left to get ready and eat something. But me being me, am I too lazy to cook something, so I decided to go out to the pizzeria around the corner of my apartment. 

Just before I leave my apartment, the phone rings. I get back in the living room and answer the phone.

“Hello?

“Hey Darlin’, wanna grab some food?”

“Hey Steno, yeah ‘course. I was just gonna head out to the pizzeria actually. Meet me there in 10?”

“Sure thing, see you then babe.”

“Seee ya.”

I hang up with a smile on my face. Recently Stone and I haven’t had the chance to be together very often due to the band meetings and then they finally got their singer, so it was a nice idea to grab dinner with him again.

After about a two minute walk I make it to the pizzeria and get a table for two. Not too long after that Stone arrives and when he spots me a smile spreads across his face.

“Hi dear,” he says before pecking my lips and taking the seat opposite from me.

“Hi love, I’ve missed you.”

“I know, I’ve missed you, too.” he smiles.

Soon after we order something to drink and our pizza’s. The pizza’s arrive, along with the drinks very quickly and we both dig in.

We just talk about how things are going and I ask him why he didn’t invite me for tonights practice. He looks up with a guilty look and tells me he completely forgot due to the fact that he’s a bit stressed out lately, because of the band and also because of work.

I tell him it’s not a problem and he shouldn’t worry about it, because I know he’s stressed. And besides that, it’s humane to forget something every once in a while. We both laugh it off and continue our delicious meal.

Afterwards we go back to my place and both get ready. Stone has enough clothes at my place to survive for a month. 

In the meantime Stone got called by Dave, who told him he should pick me up, Stone explains he’s already with me and we laugh a bit.

At 5:45 PM it’s time to leave the apartment, so we make our way down to Stone’s car and he drive’s us to Jeff’s house, which is where they have been practising the last couple of days.

“There they are!” Jeff chimes as soon as we step foot into the basement of his house.

“Hey guys,” Stone and I say at the same time, which causes everyone to laugh.

There is one face I have never seen before, which can only mean one thing. 

I walk up to the guy and extend my hand, “You must be the infamous Eddie Vedder. I’m (Y/N).” I say with a smile. 

He returns both gestures, “Indeed I am, madame.” he says which makes me laugh. In the corner of my eye I see Stone making a face I’m not used to seeing, but I decide to ignore it. 

“Well, welcome to Seattle, I’m sure you're gonna have a great time.” I say, “Oh! and I just wanted to say that, even though I haven’t heard it live yet, you’ve got a beautiful voice.” I smile

If I didn’t know any better I’d say a faint blush appears on Eddie’s face, but I don’t get the chance to see if it is really there, ‘cause Stone makes sure of that. 

He snatches my hand, “We’re gonna grab a beer upstairs. Anyone else want anything?” he asks nonchalantly. I don’t say anything about the fact that he just, pretty rudely, took me away from a conversation. But since it was ending anyways, I let it slip and go up with Stone to get some drinks.

The guys finish their practice with satisfied looks on their faces. Becky and I clap and cheer very loudly, which makes them all laugh and Eddie even gets a bit flushed by it. 

Stone and Jeff are the ones to clean up the mess, so I decide to take a smoke outside with Eddie.

“You were great, I’m sure you guys will make it far. I really hope you do, you deserve it.” I said while Eddie lit his own cigarette.

He smiled, “Thanks, it really means a lot. And thanks for making me feel so welcome here, it’s really good to have that feeling.” 

I look at him for a second and put my hand on his shoulder, “No problem, Eddie. It’s the least thing I can do. After all, I don’t want to scare you away.”

We burst into a bit of laughter until Stone comes out as well. First, he smiles, but when he sees my hand on Eddie’s shoulder while we’re laughing, it fades.

“What’s so funny?” he asks pretty annoyed.

I give him a weird look and I immediately feel Eddie tense up. I remove my hand from his shoulder and finish my cig. 

“Aren’t we allowed to have fun and laugh about things?” I ask, getting annoyed by the fact that ever since I made contact with Eddie, Stone got all tensed up and annoyed. 

He probably thinks I don’t see it, but I’ve known him longer than a day, I know when he’s jealous. I’ve told him so many times he has nothing to worry and shouldn’t be jealous, but I guess he doesn’t seem to understand.

“Yeah, you are. But not with you’re hands all over him.”

There he goes. He always makes such a scene of things.

Eddie immediately takes a step back and starts apologising, to both Stone and me, but I shrug it off. 

“Don’t apologise Ed, Stone’s being an ass and he knows, he just can’t help it.”

I know that was harsh, but can you blame me? I’ve had a couple of drinks and I was seriously just talking to a guy with one fucking hand on his shoulder, not even with any intentions.

“Are you serious, (Y/N)?” Stone asks flabbergasted. 

“I’m gonna head in guys, I- I’ll see you later.” Eddie quietly says before sprinting inside. 

“What is your problem?” Stone continues.

I roll my eyes and as I’m about to grab another cig from my pocket, Stone gabs my hand to prevent it from happening.

“Answer me, (Y/N).”

I wriggle myself from his grip and turn around, “Why are you always so fucking jealous when I’m around new guys?” I yell as I turn to face him again.

His features soften when he sees my face: not angry, just disappointed.

“(Y/N)-” Stone tries, but I’m not done yet.

“No, Stone. When I was talking to Eddie before practice, you were already being an ass in front of him and now this? Look, I get that you don’t want to lose me. Hell, I don’t want to lose you either! But please, if I say that you’ve got no reasons to be jealous, then don’t be. ‘Cause you're an ass if you’re jealous. And I don’t like a jealous Steno.”

I finish my rant and grab a cig as I’m done.

Stone walks up to me and grabs my face between his hands, “I’m sorry, love. It’s just, Eddie is a good-looking guy, you know?” he says and makes me chuckle. “I just got insecure again. Please, forgive me, though?” he says with those fucking puppy eyes.

“I really can’t stay angry at you for more than 5 minutes.” I say as I give in and feel his soft lips on mine. 

He kisses me tenderly and shows me just how much he loves me and it’s the best feeling in the whole wide world. Hell, in the whole universe!

“I love you, babe.” he says with a soft voice after we broke apart.

“Hmm, yeah, I love you too, but first you need to apologise for acting like a dick towards Eddie.”

He laughs, but listens nonetheless. I follow him inside, hands intertwined. It is true though, I really can’t stay mad at him for more than 5 minutes.

[averybritishsomething]

Long moving update

Hi! I know I promised this, and obviously I’ve been online and caught up, but here is my fun moving story. And all my shit is in my new condo. as far as I know most of it survived in one piece. So if you don’t know me, and wanted a tldr there it is! Read more cause this got long as hell

SO! Monday night I stayed up till 2 am (tuesday morning I guess) finishing packing most of the shit. Mom was coming on Tuesday (and before I continue, I just need to say that she was actually massively helpful, and not judgmental about shit, and honestly, best help I've gotten from here in a LOOOONG ass time) and I wanted to look like I was totally ready. Because some of my college moves were a complete shit show, and mom witnessed all of those. I crashed around 2.30-3 ish, planning to sleep till 9.45. Nope. the doughnuts my relator sent over (which are stans doughnuts and delicious) arrived at 9.15 instead of 11. So I broke speed records for getting dressed in something and running out to get those. Mom made it about 11.30 and we were working on the last min shit (getting all the trash out, and loading everything in my fridge/freezer into coolers because who needs to buy all new condiments). We had finished packing all the shit by a bit after 1, and had moved onto sweeping where we could (around the boxes lol) and double checking cabinets. My movers said it would only take an hour to move all of my packed shit into their truck, drive it to the new place, and get it up in the elevator. They said they would be there between 1 and 2. so. I had elevator reservations at this building for 1-5. Any time I go over, I have to pay a fee. $50 a half hour. I told the movers this in the initial email. They never gave me a phone number, everything had been over email. At 1.30 I started to get nervous. at 2 I started to call every number I could find attached to them online. Finally I got a call back at 2.15. Their previous job had run over, and I was next. They would get to my place by 3.30. Welp. nothing I can do. I reiterated the time for the elevator. And for those unfamiliar with Chicago traffic, let me tell you, rush hour starts at about 4, and lasts until 8 ish. The drive between the two places is about 15 min in a speeding uber with no traffic, or 45 min stuck in all the traffic. Or something between. They brought an extra guy they didn’t charge me for, and got all my shit out in like 20 min. Which is just fucking impressive, because I had a daybed, mattress, 3 shelves with cubes in them, a desk, chair, tv, 4 rugs, 9 under bed bins, and about 40 moving boxes, and lived in a second story walk up. 

So then mom and I ran over to the new place. Plan was, I run in, get the movers, do whatever I needed to do with security, got moms parking pass for later, while mom went back to the apartment to get the things we didn’t want the movers to move (there were like 4 smallish boxes, 2 backpacks, and the contents of the freezer that needed to be tossed into grocery bags. the boxes and backpacks were fragile and irreplaceable things, and the backpacks were legal docs, a few decent and sentimental pieces of jewelry, and my laptop), then, once mom was headed over, i’d head down, meet her in the circle drive out front, and we’d figure out parking. 

lol

So, I run in, run back to the loading bay, and can’t find a security guard. Then the movers call and they can’t figure out how to get to the back of the building. So I go out back to try to give them directions. They finally show up (traffic was awful), and one guy goes, ‘show me where to go’. So he follows me. Still no guard by the loading bay, so I head to management office. A security guard is going in, so I go to follow him and he yells at me. OOOK. I decide to go to the front desk next. They tell me to go to management and point out I only have about 45 min (I FUCKING KNOW). I say I can’t get into the management office right now, this is time sensitive, where is the security guard by the back door. She radios someone and says they’re coming around the corner. Guard who yelled at me earlier comes around the corner. I ask him. He says hes looking for someone and not to bother him. oooook. I go back to the front desk. she now says they don’t have the move in info up there, can’t prove that i am who i say i am, and that I need to move. and to head back to management. Management is a 4 min leisurely stroll from the desk btw. So i’m heading back, when a different security guard rounds the corner, and asks if im the mover. well she asks the mover if we’re moving in, and i’m like ‘nope, i am, he’s carrying the shit, i’m paying’. and she starts in on complaining about how we’ve kept her waiting all day and she wants to go home. I apologize (but like also, I paid her to be there. not to sound entitled, but she was paid to do nothing but sit in an air conditioned office waiting for me to show up, and then to watch movers walk by. I’m sorry, but good grief, i also did not want to be running late). So then we try to take the elevators. the door to the freight elevator is locked for no fucking reason. my fob won’t work. she doesn't have a key. So i run back to the front desk, and she radios for mr friendly security guard to come back. He takes his sweeet ass time walking there, and we spend 5 min staring at the glass doors separating me from the service elevators. my mover is like ‘ i hope we’re refunded for this 15 min’ and i’m like ‘bitch i wish you’d showed up on time’ internally but just nod. SO then she’s like ‘you know you just have 15 min left. ‘ and i’m like ‘yes i am aware’. and she’s like ‘i have to tell management if you run over’ and i’m like ‘yes i know this too’. so it’s unlocked, I escort the movers to my room, unlock the door, and then fucking sprint back to management office (which I still haven’t made it into today) so I can pick up my parking pass for mom, before management office closes at 5. so the movers get my shit up in like 45 min, and then move it to the correct rooms. I pay them and tip them cause apparently you’re supposed to. and then I lay down and try to stop sweating for 5 seconds.

Then mom calls. She’s on her way, and got everything but one box in her car. So I head down to the lobby (meet a neighbor I share a wall with, he seems super nice, teaches piano, was giving a lesson while i was moving in, I couldn’t hear anything. i love these thick walls) and hop in moms car, and we go to figure out the garage. We finally figure out how to get in (this took a few min, the garage system is currently complicated as they’re in the middle of renovating) get down and discover that yes we have in and out privileges with this pass, but it’s still valet. all parking I can get for guests is valet. which is awkward but ok. We meet William, who is SUPER friendly, nicely explains how the garage works, lets us leave the car by the valet stand while we unload some things, lets me use the luggage cart, just is all around awesome. So we get the shit upstairs, unload the cold shit, and run back downstairs to drive to fucking ikea. We get there, figure out the closet thing I want is too big for my closet (sigh) and order the rest of the shit to be delivered here on the 11th. So that’s when I’ll have furniture again lol.  

we go home and pass out. it’s 11, i’ve been running all day, this is deserved. 

the next day we start unpacking. I'm dealing with my clothes, mom is doing the kitchen. I hear some ‘broken pottery pieces moving around noises’ and know i’m fucked. All my fucking plates except 3 are busted. They were sturdy old plates that looked like fiestaware I got at good will and have had for nearly 10 years. They're all still wrapped in my bubble wrap. Just fucking shattered. So. that’s something I need to deal with. So far they’re the only broken things we’ve found, but damn it’s going to be a pain to replace. So once the cable guy shows up 2 hours late, and finally gets that set up, mom and I run back to the apartment, grab the last box, and go to physically drop my keys off because my landlord sucks. We get stuck in traffic cause Western is shit again, and finally make the ‘20 min’ drive according to gps in about an hour. I drop them off, and we’re back at my condo. Mom and I unpack until she leaves in the evening and then I go to my room and get online and I haven’t unpacked shit since then. I’m going to after I type this out (and send a form to the office, and ask a polite question about how do I get amazon packages delivered to the package room because my smoke alarm does not work at all and the nice matience guy who discovered that yesterday let me off without a fine, cause he could see i’d literally just moved in, but I need to fix that). But like.... i’m actually in the room! and about half the boxes are unpacked!!! which is amazing!!!! so, it had some issues, but at least i’m fucking moved!

[a-home-for-stray-stories]

No. 1 Contender: Switching Gears

Samoa Joe x Reader

Part 3 of No. 1 Contender

You have a secret relationship with Samoa Joe. Secret, specifically so no one can wield it in their favor. It’s been working out great, until the Beast Incarnate and Paul Heyman manage to figure it out. Now, one of the most intimidating wrestlers has you in his sights and Joe isn’t going to let him anywhere near you. You, however, take things into your own hands, refusing to be used, and decide to confront Brock. Whether or not it’s a good idea.          

*This is the part where the lines get crossed.          

Word Count: 2,651

Tags: @justrae9903 @xsimplynaex @macfizzle

Warnings: Suggestive Talk

Note: I’ve decided to add more to the beginning of the original story, so be on the look out for No.1 Contender: Fast Lane (This will be the original story with an expanded beginning).

You’d be lying if you said sneaking around wasn’t fun. Sneaking to each other’s hotel room, dressing room, and there was that one time deep in the halls of a venue. You don’t know how you managed to keep yourself quiet with your back pressed against the cold concrete wall and your nails digging into his back. Tonight you had the luxury of a hotel room. Not yours. You tossed your bags onto the bed, which wouldn’t otherwise be disturbed, and you gathered some work things you had to do. Your laptop went into your work bag, as did your notebook, and a spare shirt. The door closed behind you and your mind was already in Joe’s room. Ok, you thought as your walked, it’s an early night, so I’ll work for an hour then be done with it. Hmm, I bet I can get it done in 45. Before you could finish your thought, the door you were passing suddenly swung open and a gravelly voice barked out,

“What are you doing?”

You came out of your skin, nearly tumbling over. You glared at the man standing in the doorway.

“Fuck you, Dean.”

He was definitely proud of himself with his broad grin and toothbrush hanging from his lips. He leaned against the frame,

“Where are you going?”

Your mind scrambled for a believable answer, “I’m going to hang out with Sasha a little bit, is that ok with you?”

He scratched his beard, “It would be, if Sasha’s room wasn’t that way.” He pointed in the direction you came from. Shit. A good lie is based in some truth, right?

“I left my phone at the venue and Joe found it, so I’m going to get it. Do I need to give you a full report on what I had for dinner?”

“Now I’m actually curious.” He laughed.

You adjusted you bag on your shoulder and froze when your phone vibrated in your back pocket. Hoping he didn’t hear it, you pushed on with the conversation,

“Were you just standing there waiting for someone to walk by?”

He nodded his head and behind him your blonde guardian angel came out of the bathroom.

“Renee! Come get your lunatic!”

She turned around and grabbed his arm, “Did he do that door thing? God, I hate it when he does that.”

“She’s hiding something!” He defended, as Renee dragged him back. She mouthed a sorry before closing the door. Joe’s room wasn’t much farther and you made a beeline to his door. Your mind was racing as you knocked, fully convinced Dean knew. It didn’t take long for Joe to open the door, before he could say anything you blurted out,

“Dean knows. I don’t know how, but he does.”

You walked in and started pulling your things out onto the desk.

“Ambrose? Babe, Dean likes to act like he knows everything, but nine times out of ten he’s just talking out his ass.” He wrapped his arms around your waist in an attempt to calm you down. “Even if he does know, he wouldn’t care enough to tell anyone. Especially Brock and Paul.”

You leaned your head back. Of course he was right, but you still had used Sasha in your lie.

“Well, I used Sasha as a scapegoat, so I need to tell her.”

He softly guided your hips around to face him and pushed some hair back behind your ear,

“Go talk to her, then come get some work done, so we can have our night together. Ok?”

“Ok.” You whispered before place a kiss on his lips. “I’ll be right back.”

Sasha died. She forced you to tell her everything from start to finish, twice. She hugged you tight and was completely on board with covering for you.

“Are you going to that Mexican restaurant tomorrow night that Corey keeps talking about? It looks like a lot of us are going.”

“Ya. You wanna ride together?”

“You don’t wanna ride with Joe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at you, forcing you to laugh.

“We try not to ride together too often. We don’t want people getting suspicious.”

“I’m your best friend and I didn’t notice. Dean’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“I hope so.”

You gave her a hug before heading back to Joe. You stayed with him until about two in the morning. Normally, you would at least see each other during a show, but this house show was all mixed up. They threw you a curve ball when management had you tag with Sasha that Sunday night. Tagging with her was always so much fun and the crowd was particularly into it. Between the music, the fans, teaming with your best friend for the first time in years, and winning the match, you had one hell of a performance high. The moment you came backstage, you were looking for him. You needed him, but he always seemed to be in a different room and there were too many people. You were loading up your luggage in the car when you got a text from him.

- You coming to dinner with everyone?

- Ya. Just now leaving. Are you?

- On my way. See ya there.

Joe had just leaned up to the bar when you and Sasha arrived. Walking through the door, you had no issue finding him as he settled onto his forearm, giving you that smug smirk. His cockiness only fueled your need. You threw back a similar look, holding his eyes as Sasha led you to find the table occupied by your coworkers. Sasha took a spot between Alexa and Corey and you slid your purse down into the single seat next to Seth. Placing a hand on his back, you leaned down to rely your message despite the commotion,

“I’m going to get a drink.”

“Alright, I think Joe’s already up there.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks.” You feigned ignorance as he nodded in the direction you were already headed. This was a cruel joke. He was propped up on his elbows, eyes boring holes in your body, dragging you towards him. Your fingers slid on the hem of your dress frailly giving you the friction you were so desperate for. Hours of needing him and you were about to be within inches, but not able to touch him. You were damn near shaking. If you could, you would’ve waltzed straight into a make-out session, but instead skirted to his side. He turned to face you on bent elbow, and let out a laugh,

“You’ve been horny since you’re match.” Your head snapped around to see the amusement on his face as he settled onto the counter next to you.

“Fuck, how do you do that?”  If you couldn’t act on your impulses, you sure as hell were going to verbalize them. You positioned yourself onto your elbow, directly facing him and slid within inches of his side. His eyebrows shot up at the bold movement. He had to glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching before throwing wary look into your eyes. Of course, that didn’t last long. Between the mischievous beam on your face and pure electricity radiating from your core, he couldn’t help but smile as his eyes scanned your body. It might as well been his hands sliding down your bare skin. He shook his head, licking his lips as he turned back forward,

“We’re supposed to be maintaining appearances.”

“We haven’t been in the same room since two o’clock this morning. How could you tell I was turned on over a television monitor?”

He let out a sharp scoff and ran his hand over his face, “If I told you, you’d try to control it.”

“I promise I won’t.

“Yes, you will”

“It has to be something you see.”

This time he ran both his hands down his face, realizing you were on a war path. “Y/n, you’ve got to stop.”

He glanced over to you in time to see your tongue slip along your bottom lip before pulling it between your teeth in a devilish grin. Just then, the bartender appeared for your drink order, placing Joe’s beer before him. Without giving the guy a single look, you threw out your usual,

“Margarita, on the rocks.”

Joe took a much needed sip of his drink.  “You do not need that.”

Ignoring his half joke, you pressed further, “What does my body do to let you know that I’m all hot and bothered, hm?” You let your fingers ghost over the ones he had wrapped around his beer. “Do I get a little handsy with myself? Ya know, “adjusting” my top or running my hands down my hips, like this.” He looked over to see you graze your fingers up your thigh pulling your dress up ever so slightly.

“Fuck.” He whispered as he leaned up and used his body to block any chance of anyone seeing you.

“Do I lick or bite my lips more than usual, because I feel like I’ve done that a lot today. They actually feel a little chapped.”

Joe dropped his head with a groan, but his eyes followed your hand from his beer to your lips where you let your fingers play with them.

“Put your hand back on the bar.”

You knew that gravelly voice and the sound of it just embolden you. Using your new found invisibility, you slid right up to him and linked your fingers into his belt loops. You weren’t flush on him, but every breath you took had your breasts tortuously close to his chest. You lowered your voiced to just above a whisper,

“Or is it something a little more subtle? Like my eyes darkening or my pupils dilating. Is it my skin flushing from my cheeks, down my neck, and into my chest?”

He let out a hard breath as you chuckled,

“Is Mr. Control losing it? You’re hanging onto that beer awful tight.”

This time he leaned in, pinning you between the bar and his body. You took in a sharp breath feeling how hard he was and so close to where you needed him. You rolled your hips into his, giving you a taste of what you wanted before he pulled away.

“If you don’t stop..” he began to warn before you cut him off,

“If you don’t realize how soaked my under… oh wait…”  you cocked you head, devious smile gracing your face again, “I forgot to put those on.”

Proud of yourself you let out a laugh and pulled at his jeans, but he let out a frustrated groan.

“You want me to have a heart attack?”

Rolling your eyes back up to his, “I want..” you emphasized his word and left a quiet pause before firing off your clincher, “you to take me back to the hotel and fuck me, but ya know, appearances.”

“Y/n….”

The bartender sat your drink down behind you and you swirled around to a gaped mouthed man, 

“Here’s your Oscar, ma’am. Free of charge.”

“Thank you!” You gave him a wink before running a hand down Joe’s forearm. You took your drink and went to leave, but not before stopping at Joe’s side.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to maintain mine in that seat next to Rollins.”

Just before you got out of reach, he gave your fingertips a firm tug.

“You better be in my hotel room by midnight.”

You returned the pressure to his hand and silently mouthed, “Appearances.”

Dinner went by quickly, seeing as all of you had just finished a show. It was full of sideways glances, and every time your eyes locked, your heart skipped. People were starting to leave when you got a text from Sasha,

“Corey wants to ride back to the hotel with me. Do you mind switching cars with him?”

“Sure. Who was he riding with?”

“Joe. ;)”

Before you could look up, Joe, Corey, and Sasha were standing up.

“Looks like you’re riding with me, Miss Arsonist.” Joe pulled out of the parking lot and your hand flew to his leg, but his hand made a snap as it latched onto your wrist, pulling it away.

“Not while I’m driving.”

You let out a whimper and popped out your lip in a pout. He brought your hand up to his lips before letting out a laugh,

“Don’t pout, you’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn.”

He placed strong kisses on the back of your hand. You released his hand to run your fingers along his jaw.

“But today has definitely not been fun. Babe, I’ve wanted you so bad.”

“I noticed”

“Oh that’s right,” You kept your hand on his face as his fingers traced the underside of your arm, “You’ve known since my match, as you so astutely pointed out.”

“Baby, I would have done something, if I could have. You think it was fun watching Rollins flirt with you the entire time we were at dinner?”

You let out a laugh, “Do I think you had fun watching Seth try his hardest knowing exactly whose bed I’d be in tonight?” You phone buzzed in your purse, so you leaned down to pull it out. “Yeah, I think you enjoyed that.”

He laughed, nodding his head as you saw Sasha was calling you. You thought about letting it go, but you just couldn’t. You answered it,

“Hey, Sasha. Your on speaker.”

“Hey, did you two come out in like the last ten minutes?”

She was almost mumbling, and it was hard to hear her

You and Joe exchanged confused looks.

“No...” You said cautiously, “Why?”

“Well, there’s a tweet...um, two tweets that you may want to look at.”

“What do they say?” You asked her.

“I’m in the hotel lobby. I don’t want anyone to connect the dots. I think y’all can still keep this covered up, you’ll just have to do a lot of denying.”

“Who are they by?” Joe cut in.

She kept quiet for a second, then let out a sigh.

“It’s Paul and Brock.”

Joe let out a string of curses and you dropped your head.

“Thanks, Sasha. We’ll look at it.”

You hung up and sure enough there was a notification that you had been tagged in a tweet. Twitter opened and it was blowing up. All you could do sigh when you came upon the original tweet.

“What’s it say?”

“If you’re not afraid of the beast, why is she a secret?” You looked over to him, “That was from Paul and he tagged both of us.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel and you could see a ripple through his jaw. “What did Brock say?”

You didn’t have to look far. Brock’s tweet was right under Paul’s.

“He is afraid. She should be too. #shesnotsafe” You put the phone down and turned towards him, “You know they can’t do anything...”

“I’m not willing to risk it. It’s Paul Heyman, he’ll come up with something.You’re not on schedule tomorrow, right?”

It was amazing how he could keep the tone of his voice so level, but also sound so pissed off at the same time. He pulled into the hotel parking lot and parked. You knew exactly where he was heading with that question.

“Ya, but I’m not going to tuck tail and run. I’m going to be there tomorrow night.”

“Y/n, it’s the last Monday Night Raw before the match, and he’ll be there.”

“And so will an entire roster of people who like me more than him. He’s not going to touch me.”

He stared at you from the drivers seat, and you could tell he was trying to come up with a way to get you to stay away. You finally said, “I’m going, whether you like it or not.”

[thevintagebluebird]

Unpinned - Vodka Sauce Chicken Zucchini Noodles

Since our last meeting, I have stopped cooking all our meals at home. As a result I am now broke and have gained two pounds. It’s a sad state of affairs, folks. Two business trips and BAM. Ordering takeout every night like my life depends on it. In a weak effort to get back into the cooking game (and eat a meal that might clock in at less than 1,000 calories) I busted out the ole’ Pinterest board and whipped up this sad effort. Join me as we explore what went wrong with: vodka sauce chicken zucchini noodles.

It looks beautiful, doesn’t it? Creamy, glistening, a rich golden color - I’m getting hungry just looking at it.

Verdict: Is the Pintrest photo complete bullshit? - Yeah, a little. ‘Cause like EVERY SINGLE DISH I try to make with zucchini noodles, the sauce instantly turned into water. This despite salting the zoodles for nearly an hour and rolling them up TIGHTLY in paper towels.

Is it crazy expensive/time consuming/confusing? - It calls for about 40+ minutes of cooking, and working with two people overlapping tasks it took us a solid hour, but that’s not far from the estimate. Not expensive tho.

Does it taste good? - It’s solidly okay, but not for the amount of time it takes.

Vodka Sauce Chicken Zucchini Noodles

Prep time: 15 mins, cook time: 45 mins

Ingredients

3 to 4 zucchini

2 tablespoons olive oil

12 ounces boneless skinless chicken breasts

1 teaspoon dried thyme

salt and pepper , to taste

FOR THE VODKA SAUCE

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

2 tablespoons olive oil

4 garlic cloves , minced

2 tablespoons tomato paste

1 can (14.5 oz) low sodium diced tomatoes

1/2 cup vodka

1 cup 2% milk

1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese

Instructions

Peel zucchini lengthwise with a vegetable peeler to create long strips.

Lay zucchini strips flat on a paper towel-lined baking sheet; set aside to dry.

Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.

Season chicken breasts with thyme, salt and pepper; add to skillet and cook for 4 minutes per side, or until cooked through.

Remove from skillet; cut into strips and set aside. Cover to keep warm.

In the same skillet, heat the butter and olive oil over medium heat.

Add garlic and tomato paste and cook for 30 seconds, or until fragrant.

Okay, I just read that the blog author doesn’t want the entire recipe posted on other blogs, so if you’d like to see the final steps just click here for her full recipe. Or read on and see how I royally muck it up!

First off get yourself a sous chef, ‘cause this recipe would take probably two hours if you don’t get the chicken cooking long before the whole zucchini nonsense is done. Found this guy in my living room, so he’ll do.

I found this recipe on a website called ‘Diethood’, which is not nearly as whimsical a blog name as our usual fare, but I’m seriously trying to eat better. However, our mom-of-two blog author Katerina reassures me that her site is NOT about diet food, but rather the sum of everything you eat. M’kay. ...wait, she has some BOMB ass cookie recipes on there, so there might be some truth in that. Hmm, haven’t done a desert in a while...

Assemble yo shiz-nit! Favorite purchase of all my unpinned adventures? Vodka. Also please note the glaring lack of tomato paste. I ended up using a blob of leftover turkey bolognese from last night’s dinner instead. 

Casually peel a heaping pile of zucchini into delicate little strips! Ha ha just kidding, struggle and nearly slice your knuckles off trying to use a 2$ plastic peeler to get anything resembling a noodle strip from a zucchini. Wish desperately you had a mandolin, then remember the horror from working in a restaurant kitchen with a mandolin. There was so much blood. Decide you don’t want a mandolin.

My ever-cheerful sidekick prepares to cook all the chicken at once. Although I’m the more adventurous (and definitely more focused/driven) cook in the house, I will give him one thing: this man cooks meat *perfectly*. For some reason I often over or undercook our chicken just a bit (or undercook and immediately overcook in an attempt to undo my undercooking), but with what looks like zero effort his chicken always comes out moist and exactly right. I don’t know how he does it.

Three pans at once. A bold move, Cotton. Let’s see how it plays out for him.

Chicken in progress, I asked my sous chef to squeeze half a dozen lemons for whiskey sours - it’s a good backup plan. If the recipe comes out terrible, at least everyone will be tipsy off of the cocktails and may not notice as much!

About halfway through fighting with my impossible-to-grip zucchini I had an epiphany. What the hell was I doing? I have a SPIRALIZER. So half our zoodles were curly and flat and the other half were straight and flat. I do what I want. I ain’t a part of the SYSTEM. I BREAK RULES.

Use literally half a roll of paper towels in a desperate effort to avoid the pitfall you experience EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. you try to cook with zoodles - watery sauce. Surely if I wrap them up like a sleeping bag and salt them and leave them forever I can avoid the water breakage I always end up with?

In case you’ve ever wondered what our poorly stocked, desperately outdated kitchen actually looks like, here it is in most of its early-80s glory. We make it work.

Checking the chicken. The one cooked in the older, thinner pan is done, the rest need more time. Such is life with mismatched, hand-me-down cookware.

OK NOW IT’S GO TIME! Bust out yo vodka! Dump in in your sauce! Be alarmed at how overwhelmingly your kitchen now smells like a dive bar!

The sauce is definitely looking like a sauce. A really, really boozy sauce that sort of stings your eyes. I trust that science will indeed burn off most of the alcohol. It calls for ten minutes of simmering but your guests are already arriving so we might just have to have sauce with an illegal alcohol content.

TOSS IT ALL IN DA PAN! Notice that lovely sauce we used to have now looks like orange water. Crap.

Plate that stuff. It looks nothing like the Pinterest photo. The sauce is broth. All is lost.

Serve it to your poor unsuspecting game mates and watch as they all try to comfort you that it’s ‘really quite good!’ and ‘it’s okay the sauce is watery’! But you know the truth. The zoodles have defeated you once again.

Final final verdict: Once again, I THINK this could be a recipe I’d do again, if I could just defeat the water sauce. It’s pretty tasty. I think if I just threw the zoodles into their own frying pan and the chicken into the sauce, then strained/dried the zoodles, plated them, and THEN drizzled the sauce right on top (rather than heating it all together at the end) this might work. If I try again I’ll let you guys know.

[fuck-customers]

This is very much a "fuck co-workers". This is long, so sorry about that. So I work at a dry cleaners. And for over a year I was the opener and basically almost manager at the store I work at. I got to lose all of my hours and my checks get cut almost in half or less because my co-workers fucking suck. What we basically do where I work is tag in the dirty clothes customers bring in(so we know who it belongs too), and give people back their finished clothes orders. We don't clean any of the clothes where I work. We do pillows but those are easy to do. Tagging things in, keeping the store clean and doing the cash out at the end of the night. But the morning person has to handle repairs(such as button fixes), doing the pillows(the night people are lazy assholes and won't do them) assembling the clean clothes that come back(putting them on the right orders, crossing off finished orders, putting finished orders in the computer and then putting them away. and if dirty clothes get dropped off while i'm assembling, i have to finish assembling BEFORE tagging them in) along with tagging in things that come in during the day, along with delinting clothes(like sweaters and wool jackets and shit) and doing foamies(things on hangers that prevent the clothes from falling off. the people who clean the clothes are too lazy to do it themselves and make us do it).

For a while, everything was running smoothly. One of my co-workers, we'll name her Bob, would complain to our manager if she had more than five bags to do. One day she texts me on a Tuesday(which was one of our busiest fucking days cause it was discount day) and tells me "when there's a lot you should stay to help me". I had already been there for eight hours, and I had already done my job. Anything not done from the morning shift IS the night person's job to do. And I explain to her what our manager had told me. That I have to finish assembling, and if I finish I can tag shit in. (But normally when she comes in things aren't even put away and I'm not done) I explain this and tell her that anything from the morning shift is hers to do. Now Bob, she knows how to do pillows, how to fix buttons and how to delint. She worked there longer than I did and was taught these things before I worked there. She was just in high school and could only do nights/Saturdays. She she's never actually worked a morning shift in her life(at the dry cleaners) and has no idea what being the morning person is like. Also a lazy piece of shit. And she argues that it's not her job and becomes a bitch about it. So the next day I go to my manager, show her the conversation(because I wasn't in the wrong. I explained to her exactly what was explained to me) and our manager had the exact same conversation with her that I did. But she was telling Steve(we'll call the manager Steve) that I was leaving 10+ bags of clothes for her to tag in. (Even when there were that many, there weren't more than five pieces of clothes in more than have of the bags total) We finally "stopped fighting" and were civil at work. She used to claim I talked down to her when I would literally start everything with "Steve told me to tell you this". But she would come in and ignore me when I'm talking to her, and telling her what's done, what she needs to do or doesn't need to worry about and wouldn't hear a damn word I say. Then text me later about things I already told her about. But we eventually got things sorted. But it also turned out Bob wasn't the type to do things as they came in. Which is what we're suppose to do. She would wait until the end of the night to tag everything in. On the bottom of the invoice that details the order, there's a time that the order was done. I could tell she was doing this because orders that came in at about 3'o'clock would be written down under the orders that came in at 7 in the book we had(we had to write down orders tagged in to be crossed off later when they were done). Basically she'd sit there on her phone the whole time. There was also a time when my mother was picking my up and dropping me off. And granted she was never there right when I got off, but like 20 minutes or so afterwards. Bob would do this thing where she would text me 30 minutes before her shift and ask if she could stay at the school longer to work on homework. She'd do this knowing that her school was 45 minutes away and she'd be late regardless. I didn't feel like walking home from work so the answer was almost always no. So I had to explain to her that I need her to be on time, and I also told the manager this as well. On Wednesdays she KNEW she couldn't be on time, and I'd have to walk cause of her ass, and asked to work every Wednesday. She also started doing this thing where she claimed a bag or two she left was a last minute drop off, although you can check what time in the computer it came in(and they were almost always dropped off at about five, and we closed at eight).

Couple of months later, we get two knew people, we'll name them Oliver and Rick. Oliver was in college, Rick was in high school. Bob was pretty much tasked with training them. She didn't train them or shit. They were always doing things wrong because she wasn't watching them. Then when she would watch Rick do his job, he would do it right when someone else is around but then do whatever the fuck he wanted while he was alone. But Bob told the pair that I left bags for them to do in the afternoon on purpose, and to leave bags for me. Now, added on top of the shit I had to do every day already, spending the first two+ hours of my shift catching up on the multitude of bags left for me meant there was more work for the closers to do when they arrived. It wasn't until Oliver started working mornings and realized that Bob was a lying bitch. But they weren't tagging in clothes correctly. They were putting orders under the wrong name or under no name because they didn't get the customers name. At the same time, the location that the clothes got cleaned at went from getting only our dry cleaning to our laundry and our dry cleaning and for about two months were two weeks + behind on orders. Customers were not happy with us and at this point we were losing about five customers a week. 

And Rick wasn't making things any better by having to be told everything about his job AGAIN every time he came in. Where to put the tags on shirts, pants, suit jackets. And at night, we have to put all of the paper cash and rolled up coins in a bag to hide that gets taken back out the next time we open. We leave the loose change in the drawer so we don't have to fucking sort it. For a long time, Both Oliver and Rick emptied the entire drawer into said bag. Until Oliver started opening and realized how fucking stupid it was to do that. No matter how many times it was explained to Rick or physically shown to him he still didn't get it. But between all of the closers, (and the computer acting up because it's old) the cash out that tells us if the money is okay(we're not missing any or something) and how much goes in the deposit had been off. Every morning and night the drawer is suppose to be at $100 dollars. For about three months it was over or under every fucking morning. Another lovely headache I got to deal with. And when it came to me telling the manager about these things, Steve would always go "I'm stopping over there tomorrow to talk to him/her/them" and then when the driver would arrive to drop off the clean clothes, a note from the manager would be there for whoever she planned on talking too. She never came to deal with these issues and sent letters to said employees. When it came to me working Saturdays(which I shouldn't have been because I opened every week), I was also suppose to train Rick. Out of the at least five Saturdays tat Rick was suppose to see how to open or close on Saturdays, he only showed up once. 

To top it all off, I was the only person not making $9.50 an hour. Last August minimum wage went up, and everyone else(including Bob) got their raise. Didn't matter how many times I brought it up to Steve or the owners, until Almost February I didn't get the extra .50 cent raise I was suppose to get. They still refuse to pay me the back pay(of over $300 dollars). So I get to play manager because my manager refused to come around, and I was literally getting paid the least among everyone when I was the only one doing my job. 

Two months into Rick working, Bob told me that on Friday(when we get paid) she showed up to get her check at 7:30 PM, and again, we close at 8 PM, and the store was closed. The lights were off and Rick was no where to be found, with the front door also unlocked. When Bob asked Rick about it, his excuse was "he had to feed his dog". When asked about the front door, he said he left it unlocked for the night driver to easily get it. The thing about Fridays is that the clothes don't get picked up at night. There is no cleaning done weekends, so our clothes from Friday and Saturday aren't picked up until Sunday. And Rick, had been told every Friday he worked(by me) that the driver does not pick up on Fridays. So the door would have been unlocked Saturday morning. He didn't even turn on the security system we had. A couple of weeks after this, Bob tells me about it. Asks is she should tell the manager. (At this point I wanted to bash her head in with a blunt object. LIKE OF COURSE YOU TELL THE FUCKING MANAGER.) So we had a meeting that very week, and Bob told the manager(and of course Rick didn't even show up for said meeting) and Steve tells us that it wasn't even the first time he'd left early. (It's like, so tell me, why is his ass still here then?) Then came Valentines Day. I was working in the morning, Bob and Oliver requested the night off so Rick was scheduled to work. I had a date(plus we open at 7 AM and close at 8 PM, I don't care how much fucking money it gets me that's 13 hours with NO break, NO food and CONSTANT work.) I wasn't staying. Rick calls Steve about 11 AM and asks to have the night off to take his girlfriend out to eat. Again, we close at 8. He could have worked AND taken his girlfriend out as well. He was told no. He later calls me and asks me to work, I tell him no I have a date(it was actually my first date ever. at all. I wasn't missing it for his ass.) He gave Oliver and Bob the same call. The answer was the same. Finally at about 2, one hour before his ass had to come in, he calls Steve with this story that his friend tried to kill himself and he can't come in. (Now if it were actually true, that sucks. But considering he spent all day trying to get out of work, literally no one believed him, but he said he wasn't coming in so we were fucked). Oliver was forced to work and I was almost late for my date because of his ass. Steve, Bob, and Oliver and I all discussed that he was probably lying, but we had no way to prove it. Bob told him about it, blamed Oliver and I for suggesting he was lying(when everyone was agreeing on it) and refused to pay Oliver(he said he'd pay her what he would have made working plus what she was getting paid for, so double the money) because we were "talking shit". There was even one day he came in all pissy and ended up arguing with me over what is his job(just like with Bob), only I ended up telling him to shut the fuck up. I shouldn't have, cause that's bad. I shouldn't talk to my co-worker that way. But the little fucker pissed me off. To top it all off, the final night he worked, he left early again. But quit the next morning before he could be fired. When he should have been fired several months before then. 

Before Rick had quit, almost all of his hours had been taken away so he was only working one day a week. Bob had taken all of his hours cause she wanted money. She also had a second job. The week of said shifts she worked a lot, she last minute put all of her shifts on Oliver because I can't open and close, and for at least two months got out of working every Saturday she was scheduled. Oliver basically worked every Saturday for months. (She ended up not minding because she needed the money). Bob later then quit cause she wasn't getting enough hours. It was after she quit that Oliver told me Bob painted me as the bitch who just dumped all of my work on the closers.

But despite all of the hard work I was doing to fix everything that the closers fucked up, on a daily fucking basis, all of my morning hours were taken away from me in order for the manager to come back and fix what they did. And for months, I was only getting one or two days a week while Oliver and Joe(someone who worked with us for a while, quit then came back) got most of the hours, and yet couldn't do their fucking job right either. A major fuck you, double middle finger to me basically. Steve would tell me, "it's a circle, it goes around". No bitch it doesn't. I'm not to blame if they do their job wrong. They are. 

Also, sorry if things are all over the place.

[thebellrays]

the BellRays/Supersuckers Tour Journal DEC 2017

BELLRAYS TOUR JOURNAL DEC. 2017

 Here it is! This is the official journal of our tour with the Supersuckers! It's going to be a pretty dry read mostly. Just the facts ma'am...just the facts.

 Dec 1  Friday the Backstage Bar and Billiards, Las Vegas NV

Planned to leave at 11am

Bernard is flying into Vegas and going to meet us at the club

Marty arrives at the studio 10am with his Dad (Marty) and his uncle (Junior). Marty tells

us he never got to tour with the Faragher Bros back in the 70's. He got to see

Rufus, Chaka Khan, Stevie Wonder

We pack the van while Lisa advances the shows

We leave around noon and go to the guitar center in San Bernardino to pick up a guitar

cord and a mic clip for Lisa.

Lisa goes to Staples for some clips for the merch.

We go to In n Out and the line is insanely long and we finally hit the road to Vegas by

1pm.

2 double doubles, Lisa's has grilled onions, an order of fries and a diet coke

The drive up is pretty easy with light traffic and no accidents.

Lisa falls asleep for about an hour and a half.

We get to Vegas around 4;30 and check into the Stratosphere hotel where our rooms

are comped and that's awesome! We go straight to the club because we think we have to be there at 5.

The club is closed and the SuperSuckers van and trailer is there but the band is not.

The Supersuckers arrive and we talk for a bit and get reaquainted. It's really great to see

Eddie again and we all agree that this is going to be fun.

We find out the club is not going to open until 6 so we walk up to the Fremont

Experience where we find a White Castle.

The Supersuckers go to their hotel to pick up a guitar.

Lisa and I get a couple of sliders each and we hang out for about a half hour before

heading back to the club, which is now open.

Bernard is there and we load in.

The Backstage looks like a nice place. It's big and has pool tables, black light posters,

and a big stage, but it's drink tickets (2 each) for the band and they only get

you Pabst Blue Ribbon. It's cold though so that's good.

The Bomb Pops show up and we meet them for the first time, 2 girls, 2 guys.

The Supersuckers sound check and then we check Lisa's wireless mic.

Lisa breaks down the merch into a single box that can go out on the floor and she and

I set it up at the merch table next to the Supersuckers merch.

The first band finally starts playing at 9:30. They're a country-ish band whose name

I can't remember. They were ok but they played a long time setting the night

back even further.

The Bomb Pops get on and race through their set. They know what they're doing but the

vocals are buried really far back, so are the solos. It makes it hard to get a read

on what they really sound like.

Our set is a work in progress. At times we sound pretty good. At other times it sounds

like we only practiced 3 times. We hit the wall on "Never Let a Woman' and

actually have to start over. Once we do that we manage to get through the rest

of the set without casualties and even shove two christmas songs ( Mary Xmas

and 'Christmas is Coming') in that come across pretty well. I'm anxious to get

to the 3rd or 4th show and everyone's dialed in.

The Supersuckers are tight and fill the room up with sound. There's a bunch of people

coming while they're playing and they've stopped charging at the door. So

people are wandering in to check it out. Then they wander out. It's Vegas and it

seems like the people are looking for something that they wouldn't know if they

found it.

After the Supersuckers get done playing people start settling on the merch table and

a couple of them are really talkative. I don't think they understand how tired I

am and how badly I just want to shut it down and get to bed.

Finally, we're loaded out and ready to leave when we find out that the owner of the club

Eva has offered to buy our dinner at the Claim Jumper in the Golden Nugget so

we go to eat (we haven't eaten dinner yet).

We walk 10 minutes to the Golden Nugget (it's cold) and sit down. The foods good. I

ordered pancakes, hash browns, bacon and two sunny-side up eggs. Lisa got

the chinese chicken salad. We ate it all and as we were getting ready to leave Eva showed up and we talked to her for a bit. She's really cool and a big part

of the LA club scene. She opened the Martini Lounge and the Dragonfly, sold

em and then moved to Vegas and opened up the Backstage.

It was 4:30 am by the time we started walking back to the venue where we picked up

our van and drove back to the hotel.

We went right to sleep.

 DEC 2

 We woke up at 9:45 and immediately called down to get a late checkout (noon).

We ran a bath and enjoyed it immensely.

We re-packed the van in the parking lot and hit the 93 south.

The 93 is a really beautiful drive. It's about 4 hours of desert scrub, Joshua trees and

saguaro cactus (my personal favorite). The saguaros get thick as you get closer to

Phoenix and they're neat to see how different each one is.

I drove the whole way.

In Kingman we stopped at a Sinclair Travel America and got food. Lisa and I got hot

dogs, a bag of chips and large diet coke (mine).

It seemed to take forever to get to Mesa and the Bar Red and we arrived just before doors

opened, threw our stuff behind the opening band on stage. I found a Stella and

sat my ass down for a few minutes before I helped Lisa do the accounting for the

previous nights' merch.

Right now we're listening to Eddy and Marty learning "Beer Drinkers Hell Raisers' by ZZ

Top on acoustic guitars. Rockin'

The opening band (sorry, I don't know the name) is a rockabilly outfit (maybe more

punkabilly) not too bad but I really didn't get to see too much of them. I was

busy fixing the merch and getting our stuff ready.

Watched the Bomb Pops' set standing next to our drummer Marty and he seemed to be

getting some energy out of it. They were good and the sound was much better.      

I could hear what they were doing much better tonight.

Our set was really good! For the second night we brought a lot of energy. Maybe a little

fast, some of the stuff, but there was a really energetic feel to it. I had a good time.

After our set I say hi to Fun Bobby. A really cool guy here in the Tempe/Phoenix/Mesa

area. He used to book us in Hollywood Alley when we first started touring

through Arizona. He's helped us out a bunch and I'm always happy to see him!

Now I'm listening to a bunch of pot heads that have invaded our dressing room tell inane stories about cats and dolls. I remember why I stopped getting high.

Thank god they finally left.

I must've fallen asleep because now the Supersuckers are in the dressing room and they

were just playing on stage when the pot heads left.

We pack up and leave and it's only 1 AM. Yippee!

We check into the Econolodge and find a parking place just outside our the window

of our room (which always makes it easier to sleep).

We ordered a pizza and wings from Zio's and scarfed it because it was really good.

Good times!

 DEC 3

 Woke up around 9:30 and took a bath. The bathtub stopper didn't work so I had to wrap it in plastic (the stuff the plastic bathroom cups are wrapped in). That did the trick. Nice

Checked out at 11 and we wandered to the circle K to grab munchies and then to Safeway to get some more munchies while we waited to see where Fun Bobby wanted to go for lunch.

Met Fun Bobby at the Cornish Pasty Co. They make British pasties (meat or whatever baked into a dough wrapper. kind of like a meat pie). This place is great! I got a Reuben pasty and 32 oz hefeweisen and was completely happy. Lisa got a beet salad and a shandy. The bartender/waitress, Brooke was awesome! We had a great time.

We left for Tucson around 2;30 and got there around 4:00. The drive was easy and scenic, if you like the desert...and I do.

Another Econolodge. This one a little less nice than the last one but it was nice to lie down.

We loaded into the Rock a little after 5.

It's a spacious club with a lot of different little spaces coming off the main live music room.

I changed strings and then sat down to type this.

A few minutes later we head to the hotel to check in and chill out for about an hour before we go back to the club.

The room is a weird corner affair that feels like a converted store room. The bathroom is tiny and the shower is...ineffective.

The Bomb Pops have already started playing and there aren't very many people.

I have a theory on how to get a rough estimate on crowd size. Take the number of people who are in the crowd just before the first band starts and multiply it by 3. There will be AT LEAST that many people in the club come headliner time. It almost always works.

My theory works tonight. There are three times not very many by the time the time we s go on. But they're enthusiastic and we get a really good response.

The first show we tended to play too slow. The second one had all energy and the tempos were faster. Tonight we straddled the two and I think we're finding our rhythm, which usually happens around the third or fourth show.

We started using the Supersuckers drums and bass cab so we had to reconfigure how to load our gear in our van so we don't have to pull EVERYTHING out every time. This way our drums and bass cabinet stay in the van. The two heaviest things no longer come into the club. Nice!

We get to the hotel early (before midnight) which is great because we need some sleep.

We sleep.

 DEC 4

 Woke up about 9

Bernard and Marty did the driving today and I got to spend the whole ride in the back seat. It was an easy drive.

Had lunch at a Pilot and Lisa and I got Subway sandwiches. I wolf mine. Lisa saves half.

On the way we find out that the Bomb Pops' van has a brake issue so at best they're gonna be late, if they make it at all.

The venue in Albuquerque, the Sister Bar, is really nice.

The parking and load in situation is iffy though. But Bernard manages to snake a spot out front and we load in.

They have a great selection of sour beers and over the course of the night I had two Cascade's. Lisa got a  Dogfish head IPA. Really good! The food is good too. I had a breakfast burrito. Lisa had the Frito pie. Tapatio hot sauce, christmas chili salsa...yep, hit the spot!

The Bomb Pops get to the venue about 8:20. They use the Supersuckers gear and start playing really fast. It's a good set for them since they didn't know if they were gonna make it or not.

Good crowd.

The minute we start playing the lights on stage go out. The sound is still working so we keep playing while people use their cell phones to light us up. The blackout lasts till the next song. Other than that the set is great.

Loading out is interesting as there's a large contingent of homeless people wandering around or setting up there beds for the night all around where we're parked.

It's getting progressively colder as we head north.

 DEC. 5

 On the road to Denver!

We start out at 10 AM and head straight up the 25.

Once we're away from Albuquerque it's amazing how unpopulated the country is. I expected to see truck stops all along the route but there are hardly any. Towns are spread out.

There aren't very many troopers out either. Just a couple sitting in the medians waiting for speeders, which we're not.

We see a lot of antelope grazing in the fields along the highway.

We stop for gas and eats at a conoco station that has a Subway sandwiches. Lisa goes there. I get a hot dog.

A couple hours later we pull in for a bathroom break and meet up with the Supersuckers who've also stopped.

Bernard takes over driving and Lisa rides shotgun. Marty and I take the benches.

There's still 3 hours to go before we get to Denver.

Denver is officially freezing and the traffic is pretty bad. We lose our buffer hour for the hotel and we have to go straight to the venue.

The Lost Lake Lounge is a nice dive bar/club. The dressing room is small for ONE band and there's 3 in here.

The gig is sold out and the crowd is the best so far. It seems everybody in the place comes by the merch table and tells us how much they liked our set. With how many times we've played Denver I'm surprised at how many people haven't seen us before or even haven't ever heard of us until now.

After the show we head to our bomb ass hotel and sleep.

Did I mention it's fucking cold?

[adamcoled]

change pt. 2 | pete dunne

pt. 1, pt. 3

Tag Friends: @heelturn-timesten, @crookedmoonsaultpunk, @lahey-trash, @xfirespritex, @blondekel77, @nickysmum1909

Count on Pete to be both spontaneous, bold, and awfully good at timing. I could almost be convinced he’d somehow listened in on Tyler and I’s conversation, challenged to prove to the both of us that he could do commitment. I’m sure it’d take a lot more than just a one-off date to prove it to Tyler, though. After all, he’d seen the countless girls that must’ve entered Pete’s life and walked out after one night. There’s no way Pete could erase that, but with enough effort, he could leave that lifestyle in the past.

While I typed back an affirmation, I just had to wonder where this would go- if anywhere at all. Tyler’s confirmation solidified my assumption that his actions were out of character, leaving me much more confused than before. If Pete could change, if he was changing, why was I the reason? He knew a lot about avoiding feelings, about nights forgotten soon after, about nameless women. He knew nothing about opening his heart to someone.

He got there a little early. 6:48, to be exact. Thankfully, his unexpected arrival came just as I was completing my outfit, one I’d wasted too much time debating over. I’d been on dates, of course I had, but for some reason, this felt different. And different was confusing. Honestly, I didn’t know what to wear, afraid of being over-dressed or under-dressed, which surely would make Pete feel awkward if we’d gone opposite routes. What I ultimately decided upon looked on par with his signature trench coat and gray pants, a huge relief.

“So, what do you have planned?” I asked once I’d gotten into his car and realized I truly didn’t know a single thing about this. It was such a surprise that I didn’t even bother to ask about the details, too enthralled by his text.

“Not the place you work at,” he shook his head, “None of that shit.”

I probably should’ve been offended, but it slipped past me in the moment. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’ bad. Just thought a real date shouldn’t be where you already spend so much time at, you deserve a break.”

His reasoning wasn’t what I’d expected, but you’d think I’d learn by now to never have expectations when it came to Pete. He was proving me wrong constantly, making guesses about his thoughts was such a long-shot. I looked over at him to notice him smiling ahead, proud of his answer. It didn’t seem like a tale he’d concocted on the spot- he’d put thought into it, deliberated over how to make this feel like a “real date.”

Those were his words. He wanted it to be a real date just as much as I did, apparently. Was it too late to embrace Tyler’s proposition? After all, change came mysteriously, making its way into tiny crevices without the victims even noticing, shifting behaviors and attitudes in odd ways. Tyler had noticed these shifts, I had noticed, now it was just a matter of if Pete himself noticed.  

“Real date, huh?” I repeated, “Alright, Dunne. Let’s see what you can do.”

When he pulled into a restaurant I’d never even heard of, the outside appearance looking quite fancy, I’d made a mental note to never challenge Pete again. The interior didn’t disappoint, either; it was a big difference from the casual restaurant I worked at. We were taken to our table and handed menus, full of foods that sounded absolutely appetizing. As I looked over each dish, contemplating what seemed most delicious, I felt Pete’s unwavering stare. For a few seconds, I ignored it, scanning the menu again, before I decided I had to know why he was staring. My eyes tore away from it and landed on the confusing yet intoxicating man in front of me who, sure enough, had his gaze focused on me still. He didn’t even bother looking away when I caught him- or maybe I was supposed to catch him. “What are you staring at?” I questioned, my words coming out over a slight laugh, evoked by how strange his staring was.

A sly smile, his most frequent expression besides the snarl he donned, made its way to his face as he took a quick sip of his drink. “Somethin’ beautiful,” he answered, putting the glass back on the table, “Wish you had the view I have.”

“My view’s better.”

“Are you two ready to order?” the waitress interrupted. Seems she needed a lesson or two about timing from Pete.

Truthfully, I’d gotten too caught up in our war of flirtation to really take in what he said. Of course, he said things similar to it over the past weeks, through both texts and face-to-face interaction, but this time, it seemed full of so much more sincerity. From the way he was staring to the simple way he admitted those words so easily, readily, sincerely, everything was undeniably changing.

We spent the rest of the date chatting over great vegan cuisine and plenty of laughter. Both of us had a knack for teasing each other and telling stories just to make the other laugh, which made for a great night. It would make for a great relationship, too. Maybe I was just getting ahead of myself.

Right as we arrived at my apartment complex, he stopped me before I could get out of the car. “Would you come to a show? Next Saturday? You’ve seen Tyler wrestle, now you gotta see me,” he insisted.

“Hm, I’ll think about,” I joked, to which his face instantly dropped, though he quickly masked it with a look of annoyance, “Kiddin’. Just give me the details this time and I’ll be there.”

The days came and went with hardly any excitement, the only interesting events being my encounters with Pete and Tyler, cut short by their busy schedules. They were both gaining more and more rightful fame and attention, but it still sucked being stuck in a routine life with a normal job while the people I was closest with were out exploring the world with devoted fans chanting their names. I didn’t want them to feel obligated to spend their rare free time with me, but each of them made sure to make even just a quick appearance.

Pete had already given me all the information I needed for Saturday, reminding me throughout the week even though I hadn’t forgotten. There was no way I could possibly forget when I had been thinking about it since he asked me. When the day came, I’d woken up to a text from him.

From: Pete

Hope you’re excited for tonight xx

I’d responded with, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have something else planned.” With the way he brought it up so frequently, it’d only make sense that he had something up his sleeve.

From: Pete

Guess you’ll just have to wait and see ;)

Oh no. I couldn’t tell if I was looking forward to it or dreading it- perhaps a combination of both. After all, he could definitely pull strings and make things happen as he wanted to. And to make matters worse, he was such a complicated guy that I didn’t even have a clue what ideas he could have.

I knew better than to even ask for a hint, since he would more than likely opt for changing the subject, sending a cryptic, deceptive response, or sending no response at all. He was a man of many surprises, which was the one thing I had learned for certain over the time I’ve known him. But not the kind of surprises where you already have a pretty good idea of what’s to come, or where blabbermouths leak a clue or two about it. Pete was all locked away secrets and a tendency to lock his feelings away with them.

Since that would be the end of our discussion about his plans, I decided to busy myself with other tasks I’d put off in exchange for well-spent time with Pete or Tyler or both. A mound of clothes had accumulated in the corner of my room, not big enough to be considered heaping but more than a few shirts thrown haphazardly, and grocery shopping that should have been done a week ago had been forgone by takeout and a few visits to casual restaurants with Pete (though they weren’t my own, did they count as real dates?) I had insisted they devote their time to other things for their own enjoyment, but I suppose I needed to be thinking about my own responsibilities as well. Adulting was even harder with these two by my side.

At the time, it seemed like a good idea to catch up with all of those forgotten chores, but when 6:45 rolled around and time slipped my mind completely, I realized it may have been a mistake. The issue was truly just my poor time-keeping skills, but that was the last of my concerns now. I couldn’t dwell on it yet, instead I had to make it to the show in time and be thankful that it wasn’t too far away.

Pete had told me to let him know when I arrived, so imagine his thoughts when it was ten minutes until it started and he’d still hadn’t heard a word from me. I’d even forgotten to shoot him a text saying I was running a little late. Well, he knew now.

The traffic wasn’t on my side, either. It was too difficult to contain my road rage; at some point, I gave up on even trying. Instead, I let my colorful vocabulary free as my eyes rapidly went back and forth between the clock and the road. Just as traffic was letting up and my anticipated arrival was set for five more minutes, my phone buzzed in the passenger seat and one glance at it revealed that, of course, it was Pete. Reaching over, I answered it and pressed speakerphone quickly, allowing him to speak before I tried to spew out my story of negligence.

“Where are ya at?” he asked gruffly as soon as I picked up. If only he was here to see the smile I’d usually resorted to in situations like these- the one that could save my ass most of the time. Something tells me Pete wouldn’t succumb to it like all the others.

“Funny story,” I began, “I lost track of time. I’ll be there soon.”

“What’s ‘soon’?”

I laughed, hoping it would add some humor to the circumstances I was in. “Couple of minutes. I’ll be there, Pete,” I assured him, relying solely on the directions on my phone that said it’d only take four more minutes now. Oddly enough, hearing how thrown off he was by my tardiness left me feeling…satisfied? Poor word choice, maybe, but knowing he wanted me there so much was a good feeling. Another act to add to the list of his unusual behavior, the list that was growing longer and longer each day.

He let out what sounded like a sigh; I wasn’t sure over the phone. “How did you even forget when…you know what, nevamind. I betta see you in that front row,” he lectured.

“You will. I’ll be there cheering you on,” I smirked, even though he couldn’t see it, knowing full well he had his own plastered on his face as well.

“I’d quite like you screaming my name.”

“Hm, maybe,” I chuckled, “I’ll cya soon.”

By the time we had said our goodbyes and ended the call, I was pulling into the parking lot right on time. Hopefully, after this incident, Pete would never doubt me again. I’d have been here regardless; there’s no way I could have missed it.

Just as promised, there I was, in the front row, watching each match with studious eyes but looking most forward to Pete. The atmosphere was amazing, which I must’ve not fully appreciated the one other time I was at a show. Something about being in the crowd, joining in with the thunderous chants and shouts, surrounded by people all at the same place for a common adoration, had me in utter awe.

And when Pete came out, I decided right then and there that this was the place I wanted to be many more times in the future. The crowd was louder than ever for him, my voice drowned out by everyone else. But yet he still spared a glance in my direction, our eyes meeting for a brief second before the corner of his mouth turned upwards into a snarl.

It wasn’t until he had won, standing proudly in the center of the ring, that he looked in my direction again and shot me a wink. At least, I could assume it was meant for me. When he walked by me, muttering out at “Wait ‘ere” that I almost missed, that I was absolutely certain. Truthfully, I didn’t have a clue what that meant- I mean, he was on last and people were going to be piling out soon enough, but was I just supposed to wait around for what, I had no idea?

He sure was good at surprises, leaving out vital details. That’s exactly what I did, though. I watched as people filed out, some looking at me strangely as I stood glued in my spot. Finally, he made his way back to me, grinning all the while.

“So? What’d ya think?”

He offered his hand, an act I raised my eyebrow at, unsure if it was his true intention. When he titled his head and looked down at, I got my answer. I placed my hand in his, smiling down at our intertwined fingers while he led us to, I presumed, where his car was parked.

“It was alright,” I joked, holding the door that he pushed open, leading us into the fresh air.

The sun had set, leaving behind a beautiful, bright moon and dark blue sky lit up by the buildings all around us. Everything about the scenery looked more breathtaking than usual, for a reason unknown to me. Any other time, I would disregard it entirely and consider it no different than other night. Right now, it just left me speechless. It was a starless night and still held just as much beauty as ever.

It seemed like I was admiring the sky for hours, when in reality, it was just mere seconds. “’Alright?’ Couldn’t tell by how loud you were- you were the loudest one, I think,” Pete teased, letting go of my hand, the lack of contact shaking me out of my sky-driven stupor for good, as we approached his car I’d gotten to know so well. “You fine leaving your car here for a bit? I just wanna take ya somewhere.”

Immediately, I wanted to answer yes, but I was so taken back that the words wouldn’t form. I was right in my thinking- indeed, he did have something planned. “Yeah, of course,” I nodded, climbing into the passenger seat and thinking of any reasonable ideas of where we could be headed. Dinner, maybe? It was a common theme for us. It wouldn’t be anything new.

When we passed all the restaurants I knew, I concluded we weren’t going to dinner, unless he had intended to try somewhere new, which was entirely possible. Though, when we came upon a relatively obscure area, the idea was scratched off entirely. Instead, I noticed benches and trees and bushes- a park, with only a few pairs and a couple of lone souls exploring up and down the path.

I half-expected him to keep driving, but he pulled up and got out without wasting a second. I thought once we’d arrived, I’d be able to determine what his plans were, but right now, I was completely dumbfounded. He must’ve noticed my hesitation because he stuck his hand out once more, heading to one of the benches. Usually, I’d make a remark about how this didn’t seem like something he would do. The idea alone of Pete Dunne, holding a girl’s hand as he led her to a bench in the park, sounded absurd.

But here we were, sitting on the bench in silence, neither of us daring enough to speak the first words, instead opting to stare up at the sky.

“It’s pretty,” I said suddenly, breaking the tranquility, “This place. It’s calm, peaceful.”

He didn’t say anything; out of my peripheral vision, I saw him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did. “Yeah. You didn’t think I’d take you here, did you?”

“Honestly, no. This just…doesn’t seem like you, you know?”

It wasn’t him, but not in a bad way. Sitting here in peaceful stillness felt nice, especially with him, because of him. I can’t imagine enjoying it this much with anyone else. The entire world seemed irrelevant right now, us the only two beings in the universe, sat squarely in a tiny pinpoint of a place in comparison to the great big world out there. Months ago, I would have imagined being in a place like this with a person like him foolish. Impossible, even.

Right now, it felt right.

“It isn’t me. Or at least, it wasn’t. I woulda called this stupid months ago. But then I met you and…” he paused, his arrogant façade faded for once, “I knew I couldn’t make you mine acting like I did.”

If I had known he would confess something like this, I’d have considered hundreds of different responses. Anything is better than silence, sitting with my mouth slightly agape as my mind fumbled for words that didn’t seem on par with his. Thankfully, he continued his own speech, saving me from mine.

“I want to make you mine.”

“Okay,” I agreed simply, no second thoughts or apprehension or reasoning, “I’m yours.”

I knew Pete Dunne didn’t know relationships. It was entirely new territory to him. It’d be a journey, for both of us, him adjusting to commitment and me adjusting to dating someone who was gone more often than not. But that definitely doesn’t mean it was impossible. If he was willing to try, I was willing to try; that mutual effort, which he had clearly demonstrated time and time again with me, was all I needed to be sold. I wasn’t anticipating smooth sailing. I was preparing for timezones, large distances apart, petty arguments. We made it official, a term I never thought could be in the same realm as Pete, and of course there were things to talk about and sort out.

All I wanted to do right now, though, was kiss him like I should’ve a while ago. And before I could even act upon my desire, he was pulling me closer himself, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck. From the start, it was hungry and deep, making up for all those weeks of ignored wishes. I didn’t want to pull away, and neither did he, and if we kept it up we’d be sitting here all night, breathing heavily from unrelenting liplock. That was fine by me. That was more than fine by me. Judging by the way Pete pulled back, pressing his forehead against mine before a smirk graced his lips, it was fine by him too.

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

My Best Friend’s Wedding. (Part 4) (Pete Wentz x Reader)

~Wednesday, 21:00, 61 hours until the wedding~

“You should tell him.”

“See, this is exactly why I didn't want to tell you!”

“Technically, you didn't tell me, I figured it out,” Patrick pointed out from his seat on your hotel bed, watching you as you removed your make-up in the bathroom.

“Whatever,” you waved a hand dismissively in Patrick’s direction, “But now that you know, I’d really appreciate it if you didn't constantly try to coax me into telling Pete like (Y/B/F) does. Lord knows I have enough to deal with already,” you mumbled.

“(Y/N), you can’t just let him marry that fucking awful woman when he’d be way better off being with you instead!”

“He’s happy with her. That’s what’s important. Not how we feel about her.”

Patrick collapsed onto the bed and groaned in frustration. “You’re unbelievable!”

“So I’ve been told.”

 ~Thursday, 12:00, 46 hours until the wedding~

“That’s perfect. I’ll be there at around 6 to add all the trimmings. Okay. Alright, see you then. Thank you so much.” You hung up the call with the manager of the restaurant you’d booked for one of the locations for Meagan’s bachelorette party and plopped down onto one of the plush chairs.

“All good?” Patrick asked, setting a mojito down in front of you.

“So far,” you replied, reaching for your drink and holding it up, “Here’s hoping it stays like that.”

You clinked glasses with Patrick and took a sip, relishing in the coolness of the liquid.

“How’re your plans coming along?” you questioned.

“Great, actually. Everyone really pulled through to make sure it’ll be a awesome evening,” Patrick gushed excitedly.

“Must be nice,” you grumbled, “I had to do everything by myself.”

“I’m not surprised. In fact, I’m 99.9% sure that the bridesmaids aren’t even real people. They’re drones that Meagan had made in a lab for the sole purpose of following her around and cackling like a pack of hyenas.”

“That actually makes way too much sense for it not to be true,” you chuckled as your phone lit up, signalling that you had just received a text. Scanning over it, you started to rise from your seat. “Gotta go, babe. The t-shirts I ordered are ready.”

“You ordered t-shirts?” Patrick asked, awestruck.

“And goodie-bags, and I ordered a limo, and booked VIP tables at the best restaurant in the area as well as two different clubs.”

“I’m starting to think that you’ve been compromised.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing your purse and stuffing your cell inside, “Can you imagine what would happen if Meagan’s bachelorette party isn’t ‘totes ah-mazing’?”

“I see your point,” Patrick nodded, sipping his drink.

“Later, loser.”

 ~Thursday, 18:25, 39 hours and 35 minutes until the wedding~

“Everything looks wonderful, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Michael. Let’s just hope it’s to the bride’s liking.”

“I’m sure it will be.”

“Don’t be. You never know with this one,” you exhaled, running a hand through your hair.

“So, we have a bridezilla on our hands, hm?” Michael brought two fingers to his lips and whistled, immediately gaining the attention of the waiters scattered around the room. “We have a code 2 tonight, everyone. All hands on deck.”

Everyone instantly began to move at a pace that was five times faster than their usual one while you stood stunned by the level of organization and the manner in which every single waiter melted together to form one perfectly meshing machine.

“Code 2?” you questioned, turning to face Michael, “What’s code 1 and 3?”

“3 is a robbery and 1 is any other kind of life or death situation.”

“Wait, so a bridezilla is a higher up on the list than a robbery?”

“Women can be crazy, ma’am.”

“Believe me, I know,” you chuckled before averting your attention back to the amazing workers in front of you. “Michael?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Is there any chance of hiring them to take over the rest of my Maid of Honour duties?”

 ~Thursday, 21:00, 37 hours until the wedding~

Sitting at the hotel bar with your head rested on one hand, you thought about what horrible thing you must’ve done to deserve this much bad karma.

Even though you worked your ass off planning what you thought was an incredible bachelorette party, it hadn’t been good enough for Meagan.

She found fault with everything.

First, it was the limo. Apparently, it was too vintage and not modern enough. She also didn't like the font on the shirts you had made. Then, she got upset because the restaurant only had wine from 1970 onwards and not 1969, and hated the appetizers prepared by the world-renowned chef. When you got to the first club, she complained that the VIP table was in the corner of the club instead of the middle, which then resulted in her forcing the entire group to leave early and move on to the next club. But, your booking at the second club was only for 21:30, meaning you ended up back at the hotel bar. You, searching for your will to live at the bottom of a whiskey glass, and the Barbie squad on the couches in the middle room, well on their way to being wasted.

Just as you downed the last of the brown liquid in the glass, a noticeably anxious Patrick came running over to you.

“(Y/N)! Thank God!” he sighed, out of breath.

“’Trick, what’s wrong?” you questioned worriedly; concerned that something serious had happened.

“Can we combine the parties for the rest of the night?”

“What? Why? I thought you had everything planned.”

“We did! But then…,” he removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes before sitting down next to you. “Okay, so, we were supposed to start the night off at Marcus’s place, y’know, cause he lives close by. And obviously, you know about how – by poetic coincidence - he’s going through a divorce while being a groomsman at a wedding.”

“Uh huh.”

“Right, so, when we all arrived at his place, we found him sitting on the living room floor. On the floor, because, you see, there wasn’t any furniture. His wife had come while he was here at the hotel and cleaned out the house. Like, thoroughly out. No furniture. No glasses in the kitchen. No curtains. She left his clothes, still folded, in the place where the dresser used to be. In the closet, his clothes were on the floor because she’d taken the hangers. The booze he’d stocked up for the party? All gone. Except for one empty bottle that she left in the otherwise barren fridge. She took the mustard, even. So, for the next little while, he sat on the floor, shell-shocked and stunned. Occasionally, he’d answer a question in monotone grunts. Joe had brought a couple of six-packs with him, so we all sat on the floor with Marcus, drinking and tossing bottle caps at an empty bottle in the centre of the room. As you can imagine, it was extremely fun. Then, Pete found a deck of cards in a pile of random stuff she’d decided she didn’t want and had thrown into a corner. We threw those at the target for a while, until Andy made a discovery: she’d taken all the hearts, and left only the spades, clubs and diamonds. Marcus started crying. The next hour was spent largely trying to convince him that he was better off without her while he shook his head at Pete and wailed ‘Don’t do it, man. It isn’t worth it” over and over. So, yeah, good times.”

“Wow. I, uh… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“You can start by saying that we can come with to the next club,” Patrick said, hopefully.

“Are we sure that’s a good idea?” you questioned uncertainly, glancing over at the Barbie squad who were giggling uncontrollably, “I mean, poor Pete needs some time away from that.”

Patrick sighed. “I know, I know. But we don’t have a plan B and we can’t just not do anything.”

“Fine,” you groaned, Patrick smiling, “But I have a strong feeling that we’re both seriously gonna regret this.”

~Thursday, 21:45, 36 hours and 15 minutes until the wedding~

“See, Patrick? There are reasons bachelor and bachelorette parties are usually held separately from each other, and this is one of them!” you fumed, gesturing at the scene unfolding in front of everyone.

The club you were at had separate sections for male and female strippers and entertainment, so when everyone arrived, you and Patrick split up the group up once again and each headed to the respective sections. The only problem was that Meagan, being Meagan, got extremely jealous of the strippers dancing around Pete and decided to march up onto the stage instead, dancing and removing her clothes, much to Pete’s dismay.

“How was I supposed to know that this would happen?” Patrick asked frantically, gesturing to Meagan, who was still going and showed no sign of stopping any time soon.

“This has to stop,” you said, making your way onto the stage too, dragging Meagan off of it and back to your designated table.

“(Y/N), get your hands off of me!” Meagan struggled against your iron grip. “I honestly can’t believe you! It’s like you get more and more jealous which each passing second!”

“I’m not jealous,” you said, “I’m just trying to save you from embarrassing yourself even further.”

“Embarrassing myself?” she scoffed, “Listen here-“ she leaned forward, and as she did so, the candle on the table lit her hair on fire, prompting a blood-curdling scream from her.

All the hairspray in her hair fed the flames, and so did the vodka tonic she threw on herself in an attempt to put out the flames. Luckily, a neighbouring table threw a bucket of ice on her hair, and it was only her extensions that suffered damage.

“Taxi!”

~Thursday, 23:00, 35 hours until the wedding~

“I’m never gonna hear the fucking end of this,” you groaned, your head falling into your hands.

“It wasn’t your fault, (Y/N),” (Y/B/F) tried to comfort you, stroking your hair.

“Tell that to Meagan.”

“Everyone knows how insane she is,” Patrick spoke up, “No one takes anything she says literally. They all know how much she exaggerates everything.”

“Doesn’t stop it from being annoying as fuck, though. You know,” you got up and started pacing around your hotel room, “I’m so done. Honestly. I don't know how much more of it I can take.”

“(Y/N/N), talk to Pete,” (Y/B/F) said, “You need to tell him.”

The sound of the door closing sounded throughout the room.

“Tell me what?”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

[teacherunicorn]

Opposites Attract (Chapter 70)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15  Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24  Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71

Tag List: @the-chick-with-the-best-fandom, @does-it-matter129, @dcgoddess

Jim and Alyssa spent hours in that cell, mostly in silence. Brooding was good for neither of them however, so eventually Alyssa spoke up.

“If you’re going to be thinking so loudly, can you at least tell me what’s going on in that head of your’s?”

“Barnes is gonna get us both killed.” he said shortly.

“Pretty sure we can do that on our own. One more punch on my card and I get a free sandwich.” Alyssa smirked.

“Is everything a joke to you?” Jim looked over his shoulder at her from where he stood at the gate. He had barely sat down since it had been shut.

“Mostly yeah. How do you think I’ve stayed sane all these years?”

“I have my doubts about your sanity.” he turned back to the precinct.

 “That’s nice, am I the pot or the kettle this time?”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he turned to face her fully.

“Boyscout, you and I have more in common than either of us would like to admit.” Alyssa said idly, pushing herself up from where she was laying on the cell bench. “Don’t think I don’t know that look; the struggle to find solid ground. I’ve seen it in the mirror far too many times.”

“....And what would you propose?”

“Run for your life.” she said simply.

His eyes flickered to the ground for a moment before he turned back to the gate, his grip on the bars making his knuckles white. Alyssa sighed and laid back on the bench. She knew she ought to be more worried about the assassin that was looking for her cellmate, and would likely take out her in the process, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to care. It all seemed so stupid. So pointless. Why should she?

******

When Barnes finally did return, Jim gave him a look that begged for information.

“No news from the search.”

“Let us outta here.”

“This is for your own good, both of you. Trust me, you’ve broken enough laws for one day.”

“There are times when breaking the law is the right thing to do.”

“And who gets to decide that? You?”

“Yeah.” Jim nodded. “Someone has to.”

“No Jim, you’re wrong. Look where Gotham’s going. Maniacs, perverts, freaks crawling out of every hole? Its like a sea of evil flooding the city. If a man doesn’t cling onto the law, he’ll loose his bearings. Drown.”

“City was like this long before you arrived Barnes.” Alyssa informed, drawing their attention. “Tried to warn you.”

The light she’d been staring at flickered and went out then, along with all the others in the building.

“Blackout?” Barnes wagered.

“I don’t think so.” Jim said.

“Yeah, me neither.”

It was eerily quiet for a moment before something burst dramatically through the top window. Alyssa looked up to see Azrael standing on top of the clock that overlooked the room. He jumped down, his cape fluttering behind him.

“James Gordon.”

“Back up, against the cell!” Barnes ordered his officers, who were quick to surround Jim and Alyssa. “This is Captain Barnes of the GCPD. Whoever you are, step into the light, or we will take you out.”

“But, I am the light.” his voice echoed around the room, making it impossible to locate him. “Tasked with vanquishing the evil in that cell.”

“You can die tryin’.”

“You lead these men, so I will parlay with you.”

“Parlay?” Barnes frowned.

“Order them to stand aside, and allow the sinner James Gordon to be punished. Do this, and I will spare them all. Decline, and they will face my judgement.”

“That voice sound familiar to you?” Alyssa whispered to Jim.

“Their lives now rest in your hands. How many will die? All? Or one? Decide, captain.”

“You can go to hell.”

“I’ve been there. You go.”

Someone shouted and one of the three men guarding the cell suddenly disappeared. He showed up on the other side of the room, a deep slash across his chest. The second looked down to see the point of a sword sticking out of his stomach. Barnes and the last guard tried to shoot at Azrael, but to no avail.

“Get them outta there!”

The second Jim and Alyssa stepped out of the cell, the man who’d unlocked the door found Azrael jumping down on him from above. His neck was snapped and his gun stolen. Azrael was quick to jump on Jim pinning him down to keep him from escaping.

“Jim!” Alyssa shouted, running to help him, only to get shot in the shoulder. Azrael fired at the other men, either hitting them or getting them to duck out of the way.

“Such an amazing tool of destruction.” he attempted to shoot Jim, but he had run out of bullets. “Vile sorcery!” he threw it aside, pushing Jim off the table and moving for the kill. Barnes was quicker however, tackling him and knocking him down. He got a clean shot and emptied what was left of his gun in the direction of Azrael’s chest.

For a moment, it seemed to have worked. Jim pulled Alyssa to her feet, looking over her wound.

“We need to get you to a hospital.” he said, shrugging off his jacket and pressing it to her shoulder in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Alyssa winced in pain, her eyes still on the masked man. He started to shift and she gulped. “Guys....”

“We need a bigger gun.” Jim said as Azrael started to stand.

“Yeah.” Barnes agreed, the three of them backing up. “I’m gonna lure the freak up the stairs, and you show up with somethin’ that’ll tear a whole in this bastard.”

“You got it.”

“Connors, stay close to me!” he said, running in one direction while Jim ran in the other.

Alyssa followed him up the stairs, holding Jim’s jacket to her shoulder as she ran. When they reached the roof, Barnes slammed the door behind them, quickly finding a medal rod to slide through the handle to jam it shut.

“You alright?” he looked to her, his eyes moving to her still bleeding shoulder.

“I’ve had worse.” she said simply just before something started to bang on the door from the other side.

It didn’t take Azrael long at all to bust the metal door off it’s hinges, breaking the rod in two. “You!” he pointed the tip of his bloody sword at the two of them. “You will show me to him! You will tell me where he is!”

“And then what?” Barnes knelt down and picked up the broken rod that had rolled to his feet. “You’ll spare my life?”

“It’s too late for that.” the two man began to circle each other while Alyssa watched helplessly from the sidelines. “The most I can offer you is a painless death. But I will spare the girl. She has no part in this.”

Alyssa frowned. She had been under the impression that her life was forfeit from the start. Barnes didn’t seem keen to take the revised deal however, twirling the rod in his hand. “Let’s dance.”

Her life assured or not, it sucked majorly to watch the fight from the sidelines. Barnes was loosing until he held the rod up to block a swing from the sword, breaking it and stunning the masked man.

“That...that is not possible.”

This allowed Barnes to get the upper hand, knocking him down for a second and managing to knock off his mask.

It was then his turn to be stunned, and Alyssa’s as well, for under the metal mask Azrael was Theo Galavan.

“You. You’re dead.”

“Not anymore.” he smirked, ramming the stub of his sword into Barnes’ stomach.

“No!” Alyssa ran forward, meekly shoving him off the man and steadying him as he fell.

“I know you.” Galavan studied her. “We’ve met somewhere before.”

“Yeah, no kidding!” Alyssa exclaimed, moving Jim’s jacket from her shoulder to the wound on Barnes’. just then, the man of the how showed up with a hefty gun. He stopped however, equally stunned by the man who had come back from the dead.

“Finally. Come to me.” Galavan held his arms out. “And I will show you the way to hell.”

“I know the way.” Jim cocked the gun and fired, causing Galavan to flee. When his shots finally began to hit their target they seemed to do some damage, but they did not kill him. Instead, they knocked him off the roof.

This would do for the time being however. Jim ran over to his bleeding friends, doing his best to make sure they were still stable.

“You two are a real pain in the ass, you know that?” Barnes struggled to say.

“That makes three of us.” Alyssa said, wincing and grabbing her shoulder. There was still a bullet in there, and the amount of time it had been left had caused her to loose a lot of blood.

“Stay with me, both of you.” Jim said urgently “Breathe. Stay with me, please.”

******

Alyssa woke up in a hospital with a bandage around her shoulder, and a very recognizable man standing guard in her doorway.

“Gabe?” she called in a hoarse voice, making him turn around.

“Alyssa.” he smiled. “You’re okay. The boss’ll be pleased.”

“What boss?”

Her question was ignored as Gabe pulled a cellphone from his pocket and walked down the hall, likely calling his ‘boss.’ Alyssa looked around the hospital room and spotted a pitcher of water next to a few plastic cups. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she fought against her shoulder and reached for the pitcher. Her hand shook as she poured, and she barely filled the cup halfway before the pitcher slipped, shattering on the floor.

She huffed, cursing under her breath, but drank what she had managed to pour. Taking note of the sunlight coming through the window, it was morning, though given the fact that she didn’t know how long she’d been out she had no idea which morning.

It was about ten minutes later that someone came through the doorway, but it wasn’t Gabe.

“Oswald?” Alyssa frowned. The last she had seen him he was a meek little school boy, thanks to Strange’s brainwashing. Now he looked every bit the crime lord she knew; there were no longer traces of innocence on his face, were it not for his smile and caring gaze directed towards her, he would have looked rather evil.

“Hello Alyssa.” he said, hobbling forward on his cane and setting the bouquet of orange roses -- her favorite -- on the table at the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like the world’s turned upside-down. What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were hurt, I came to see if you were alright.” he said as though the answer should have been obvious.

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. “Last I saw you, you didn’t seem to care much for my well being.”

Oswald grimaced. “I apologize for that. You took me in when I needed a friend and at the first test of honor, I betrayed your trust. I seem to do that an awful lot.” he sighed. “Still, you were right, as always. Grace and her children were not to be trusted. They poisoned my father and used me for a servant until I found out what they’d done.” he said spitefully. “I only wish I could have made them suffer longer before they died. Especially Charles for what he did to you.”

Alyssa stared at him, stunned. Whatever Strange had done to him seemed to have been broken. “Welcome back, Ozzie.”

******

Alyssa had apparently missed quite a lot, despite only being asleep for a day. Oswald, naturally, had a plan to go after Galavan. He still wanted to make him pay for killing his mother, as well as hurting his friend.

This plan involved Alyssa being kept under watch to stay safe, but that would not fly for the young mayor when her son was still in Arkham at Strange’s mercy.

Sneaking past the guards had been almost too easy; in his frazzled state of mind Oswald hadn’t though her restrictions through. Had he been more clear headed, escape would have been all but impossible.

This was how Alyssa had ended up in the Arkham ventilation shafts, after taking a hefty dose of pain meds for the road.

“This was so much easier in middle school.” she muttered, doing her best to ignore the screams of the patients echoing around her.

She came up on a fork in the tunnel and ran right into someone, causing her and him to let out a startled scream. “Holy cow!”

“Edward?!”

“Alyssa?” he frowned. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” she countered.

Edward huffed, clearly understanding he’d been caught. “I’ve gotta get out of here. This place is crazy.”

“It’s an Asylum.”

He gave her an unamused look, glancing over his shoulder. “They’re probably looking for me. Which way is out of here?”

“I’ll help you if you help me.” Alyssa bargained. “Where’s Strange right now?”

“No no no, that is the last person you wanna be looking for.” he shook his head.

“Why is that?”

“The basement here? Its horrible...Please just trust me, stay away, He is a very dangerous man.”

“Basement.” she prompted.

“Alive people...dead people...dead-alive people, its horrible!”

“Okay, how do I get there?”

He huffed. “Its like I’m saying things, and you’re just not hearing them!”

“He’s got Jerome, and I’m here to get him out!” she informed. “Now. How. Do. I get. There.”

“....Alyssa, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“You expect me to just leave my son down there?! Do you even know me at all?!”

He sighed. “Yes. Of course I do.” he looked over his shoulder again, looking unsure of himself.

“I’ll tell you the way out.” Alyssa informed. “Just tell me how to get down there.”

******

Arkham was even more unsettling when she wasn’t supposed to be there. There were gates at every turn and without the courtesy of having them unlocked for her, she had to do it herself.

She had made it to the gate outside of what was apparently Ed’s cell, as the guards she was currently hiding from had looked in and noticed the open vent shaft.

“Sound the alarm! We got a runner!”

“Damnit poindexter.” Alyssa muttered, darting back the way she had come to avoid being seen. Her new route took significantly longer, but eventually she made it to where Ed had said the elevator should be.

The only trouble was, there was nothing there. It was a dead end.

“Please be a secret door, please be a secret door...” she muttered as she felt along the walls, eventually finding a part that flipped down to reveal a keyhole. “Yay!” she pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and placed it hurriedly in the lock, glancing around as she did. “Come on, come on...” it finally clicked, making a portion of the wall open next to her. “Okay.” she muttered to herself, pushing aside the elevator gate and closing it behind her. There were no buttons, but there was a odd looking lever. Pushing it down made the wall close, and pushing it forwards made the elevator begin to move.

Alyssa thankfully had the foresight to climb to the top of the elevator and hang on to the grate, as there was someone in the hallway where the door opened. He shined a flashlight inside, but did not see her.

Alyssa jumped down with a practiced ease, mentally thanking the acrobats at Haly’s Circus for giving her lessons. She opened and shut the gate behind her, sneaking quietly down the hallway. The door she was aiming for had someone else walking through it however, causing her to duck into the nearest open room and under a table to avoid being seen.

The people coming through the door were Professor Strange and his assistant.

“Give us a minute, please.” Alyssa heard Strange say to someone as the pair stopped just above her head.

“I think we can safely say Azrael has gone rogue.” Ms. Peabody said.

“I’m not comfortable making that assumption just yet.”

“But its been more than twenty-four hours since he made contact.”

“Perhaps that’s because that Jim Gordon still breathes.”

“If the police catch him first, how do we explain this?”

“A thing that cannot be explained? We don’t. Theo Galavan is no more, Azrael is his new creation, a killer, a mad man. The GCPD will fail if they try to capture him. They’ll have to kill him first, and when they do  they’ll be successfully covering our tracks for us. In the meantime this facility needs to be shut down, all subjects moved to the new location.”

“Already happening.”

“That’s my girl.”

The two continued on in opposite directions and Alyssa was quick to get up, heading for the door. She had to move fast, there was no telling what place in line Jerome was to be moved to this ‘new location.’

She turned a corner just in time to see a group of armored guards wrestling a very terrifying looking lizard man towards a second elevator with tasers. His skin was scaly, and his eyes glowed green as he fought against them. Alyssa ducked into the shadows as they pulled him past her.

The basement of Arkham was proving to be more unsettling than the rest of it. Not knowing for certain where Jerome was, Alyssa was forced to look into every room she passed and....well, let’s just say Edward’s description was accurate.

It was only when she ducked into a room to avoid the oncoming guards that she paused. This room seemed more eerie than the rest, and that was saying something. There were blades and torture devices of every kind on a table to her right, all put to good use if the barely recognizable bodies around the room were any indication. Their blood had been used to write things on the walls; the majority of them random words with little correlation, but they still made a shiver go down her spine.

‘Fireworks’

‘Lyla’

‘July’

‘Smallville’

‘Alyssa’

“Are you my human subject?” a scratchy voice said from behind her.

“What?”

“Were you sent here to test me?”

“Jerome?” she turned around, freezing when she saw him. His red hair was sticking up at every angle as if he’d been constantly pulling at it. His white clothes were splattered with blood, and so was the knife in his hand.

But the worst part was his face. The corners of either side of his mouth had been sliced and crudely stitched back together, leaving a permanent grin on his cheeks.

“Who’s Jerome?” scratch that, that was the worst part.

“J, listen.” her voice shook as she took a cautious step forward. “It’s me, Alyssa.”

“What?” he jerked backwards from her.

“I’m your friend. I’m your mother.” she stressed. “You have to remember.”

“I don’t remember anything!” he snapped. “It’s all just bits and pieces....” he looked over the blood smeared walls. “Professor Strange told me I have amnesia.”

“No, don’t trust him.” Alyssa shook her head. “Your name’s Jerome. Jerome Samuel Valeska.”

“He told me he’d said people to test me.” his grip on the knife tightened and he stepped forward, making Alyssa take a cautious step back.

“I-I’m not here to test you, I’m here to take you home.”

“That’s what he said you’d say!” he lunged at her with the knife.

“J no!” she ducked out of the way.

“Having fun Madame Mayor?” a familiar voice came over the loudspeakers.

“Strange...” she muttered. “What did you do to my son?!” she dodged another swing of the blade, darting up the ladder to the metal scaffolding.

“Don’t be afraid...” Jerome’s voice echoed around the room, the tone and scratchiness of it making Alyssa shudder. All that he had done and she had never once been afraid of him, but she was now. “You’ll be put to good use.” he ran his fingers over one of the blood stains on the wall. “It helps to get it all out ya know, visualize the puzzle to put it together.”

“It’s not a puzzle!” Alyssa shouted. “It’s your life!” she dodged the knife thrown at her. It implanted itself in the wall where her head had been two seconds ago. “J please! You know me!”

“I don’t know anything!” he growled. “That’s kinda been the whole problem!”

“I can help you! I came here to help you!” she screamed and ducked out of the way of a large meat clever. “J you have to remember! Remember the fireworks, and the house at the end of the road! Remember Lex, remember Selina, remember me!”

She heard the knife in his hand hit the ground with a clatter. She dared to look down and saw him pulling at his hair by the roots.

“J please you gotta know me.” Alyssa’s voice shook. “Please, my little star, I love you...”

[rockofeye]

Find the commentary on parts one and two here and here. Please let me know if you have questions.

And...part three *and* four of the documentary of the fetes at my mother’s peristyle this past summer is FINALLY a go!

PART THREE

We open with Ogou Batagi still strutting around the temple taking a look at everybody and everything in his temple, preceded by dwapo and with some ladies from the house on his arm. The sun is up and we’ve been at it all night--it’s is probably close to 6AM at this point, and we go until much, much later.

Ogou loves the drums and so stops to listen to them and smoke. Him taking his hat off is a pretty good thing--he’s happy.

1:50: He directs the dwapo bearers to put them to the side and he greets the houngenikon/song leader with vire/ritual turns and Sekrit Handshakes (really, even though all the priests in the room know what’s up). Ogou doesn’t always speak in possession, but he often yells like he does here. It doesn’t mean he’s angry or upset, necessarily--an upset and/or angry Ogou is hard to miss--but is just sort of who he is; intense, passionate, and pretty in your face.

2:50ish: Ogou clears space so he can dance, work, and talk to people. I said it in the last write up, but particularly when my mother’s spirits dance, they are doing work--magic or healing or strengthening the house or whatever their agenda is. You learn to see it, and it’s beautiful.

2:55: He pulls forward a manbo to greet and turns her with his machete, which is common for him. In the background, the singer is singing regleman, the ritual order of the spirits--he is singing the order in which the spirits are called. You can hear a song for Ogou Feray, even though Ogou Batagi is present in Manbo Maude.

3:29: He indicates he wants to greet JM, the houngan who runs the temple on my mother’s behalf when she is in the US, and Ogou spends a little more time with him--touching heads with a spirit is often an indication of a person being a priest, having a close relationship with that spirit, and/or holding some status in the house. When my mother is absent--either physically or a spirit is in her head, JM essentially runs the show. He’s a powerhouse of a priest, truly.

4:10: JM falls out for a moment and my godmother keeps him from falling over. While Ogou waits for him to recover, he tucks his machete into his neck and gets ready to drink...through his ear, which is something he does now and then. The moment where he decides the moushwa on his head is in his way and just shoves it off without caring where it goes makes me laugh and laugh, because, in some ways, it typifies Ogou. At antre kanzo, he looked me in the eye and said ‘I do what I want’, and that’s kinda it.

5:00: The hat is back on and it’s time to DANCE and strut. He likes to run at the drums and have them anticipate his moves. Since Batagi’s temperament is different than Sen Jak’s, his dancing is way less restrained.

5:40: ‘I’m here, come and see me already’. My godmother steps forward to greet him and he smacks himself in the face with his machete--this is a testament to how strong he is and how hot he can get. The face-smacking is pretty mild here--he is known for putting the point of his machete in his stomach and essentially bending it in half. He turns my godmother and she goes spinning like a top. He basically does that with everyone he turns at his fete, which is not quite usual. Sometimes he will turn with us, more often he will not--it’s an expression of respect when a spirit turns with you, but it doesn’t communicate disrespect if they do not. Ogou is basically the boss of all of us in our mother’s lineage, and the boss does not often genuflect to his minions.

6:40: He turns another person and she also goes spinning like a top.

7:23: Gotta DANCE.

7:40: He pours rum in front of another priest and draws him forward. Placing his hat on the priest’s head was something fun and indicative of Ogou trying to put another Ogou in that priest’s head, which happens a little bit.

9:15: Ogou starts pulling specific people forward to speak to in a group. He pointed that damn machete in my direction and I cannot tell you the trepidation in my heart. He pulls forward groups when there is an issue to deal with and I could not imagine how, three days after getting out of the djevo, I could already be in trouble. Thankfully, he meant someone next to me and waved me off. Machete dodged.

10:00: This was a really sad situation. The three men are the woman’s sons, and things were not going well in the family. Their mom was not well and Ogou was not happy how they were taking care of her. Haitian men tend not to cry in public at ALL, so this was a big deal to have them all cry. He told them that they needed to take care of her and be with her since things were going to be hard. Her boyfriend died two days later.

11:45: Ogou slapping her chest and then his is all about that he loves her and is with her and that she is one of his people. Ogou is getting upset--he often cries as well. Other priests consult on the situation.

12:10: One of the men who had previously been on his knees gets a spirit. It’s not uncommon when there is an emotionally fraught situation for a spirit to pop into someone’s head--strong emotions can open doors for them to slide in easier.

12:25: That damn cigar keeps going out.

12:55: Ogou is giving final instructions and directs the family that they need to be united. The dancing is doing work, and the song carries a message for the situation--songs can often be prescriptive. Ogou shakes their hands, which is a good resolution.

14:25: He pulls forward one of the family members, clears space, and turns him with the intention of bringing another Ogou into his head, which is what happens. This kicks of a marathon of possessions--I counted at one point and there were 9 Ogou in the temple at once. It was this man’s Ogou who turned me later off-camera and sent me crashing into the drum fence.

15:35: Ogou turns @hounganmatt and he goes spinning, too! The break is Ogou indicating that the other Ogou present needed a bottle of rum, and those watching were to get it for him.

16:14ish: Another Ogou has arrived, in the left hand corner of the scress, and he is washing himself with rum.

16:20: He greets a manbo who had hurt her back earlier that week and so could not kneel or turn well for him, so he performs a treatment/healing on her back with his machete and cigar, then turns and sends her spinning as well.

16:47: Another Ogou wanders through the frame and must dance!

17:15: Several more Ogou arrive at once and some go tripping over while getting settled in their chwal/horse. I try not to get hit in the face.

17:30: Ogou greets one of my kanzo sisters. She gets possessed really easy and finds it really uncomfortable (because it is), so when she feels like she is getting possessed she tries to remove herself from the situation and sit down. Ogou isn’t having any of that and follows her around to keep her from sitting until he is done with her.

18:10: One of my brothers is turned, but he is not having this possession thing and so holds still and lets it go.

18:45: In the background, you can see @hounganmatt helping Ogou get settled in one of our brothers.

19:06: Ogou calls forward MM, one of the most important people I met down there. She is the mama hounyo, who is person who takes care of you while you are in the djevo. She is small, but she is M-I-G-H-T-Y and will kick your ass all over the place if you are not doing what you should be doing. She is also a great example of how Haitians do not age. She is in her late 60s, at least. The lwa show no age preference, because Ogou sends her flying as well. She is not the oldest person who the lwa put out of their body while I was down there, either. She is also a good example of why most folks who wear dresses to fetes wear leggings or shorts underneath--they dresses will inevitably end up over your head at some point, and Haitians are generally super modest.

19:45: Ogou basically trips over himself in all his different chwal while dancing, strutting, and looking for more people to talk to.

19:55: With Ogou finally settled in that particular chwal, he charges forward to the drums, screaming and dumping rum on himself.

20:10: Sometimes we don’t even get through the vire before Ogou turns us--he can be impatient.

20:20: Being at a fete like this is like being at a three ring (or more!) circus. There is SO MUCH to watch going on. Ogou turns a manbo from the house while I am watching another Ogou do something else on the other side of the temple.

21:06: Sometimes we end up on the floor because Ogou wants us there, and sometimes it just happens.

21:25: In the background as the camera pans left, an Ogou is performing a treatment/healing on a woman’s leg.

21:50: Several priests are trying to convince Ogou that it’s time to go eat. He needs to eat before the rest of us, and it is latelatelate at this point. Trying to tell Ogou he needs to do something is like trying to herd cats. He wants to do anythings but that because it is his party and, sometimes, he just wants to be contrary. I adore him, but he is prickly at times.

21:55: Ogou is trying to put a spirit in my godmother’s head and she is NOT having it at ALL. She turns away and tries to avoid his rum, but Ogou is sniper level when he wants to asperge you.

22:19: One of the manbos of the house is done negotiating with Ogou, and so grabs him by the moushwa and hauls him back towards where his food is. The moushwa serve many purposes when they are ties onto the lwa, and convenient handle is one of them.

22:40: Ogou #1 makes it into the backroom. As Ogou #2 is being herded towards the door, someone accidentally closes it and that means it’s time to fo back to the party, of course! I love this--stonefaced Ogou is all ‘whatever, it’s my party anyways’.

22:50: More Ogou get corralled back. At this point, I thought the fete was done--the food started to make it’s way to us so Ogou was gone, right? I was wrong. About 40 minutes late everyone who could eat (special food for us kanzo kids--couldn’t have what everyone else was having, which involved the bull from the previous day), all the Ogou came back out in a line and my jaw was on the floor. They came around and shook everybody’s hands and thanked them for coming before they left and the after party began! Haitians will go all day, too--as soon as the after party moved from the temple to The Tree, I went to bed. I don’t think they finished until around 10:30AM. Sleep is an unimportant occurrence during a kanzo and fete cycle.

23:05: Manbo Maude provides an explanation for the next part, which will be fete Dantor! She is the queen of the Petwo esko/escort, and she is a good mother and a good wife and woman. You cannot have a ceremony for Ogou without a ceremony for Dantor--they walk together. She (Dantor) has a deep understanding of family dicord/upset/abuse, and she has a deep understanding and special patronage of children without fathers/single mothers. She works BIG.

24:18: Twazyem Jou/third day! Time for Fet Dantor! The opening shot is taken from the yard, looking into one of the entrances to the Petwo peristyle/temple. We begin most fetes during the day, when, if there are animals to be given (and there almost always are in Haiti), the sacrifices are made.

24:35: A shot of the veve for that part of the fete.

24:55: Dantor’s pig is ritually washed and marked for sacrifice. It is not happy about this in the least. I suppose I wouldn’t be either.

27:50: Drumming is hot, hard work and drummers have to have regular access to good food to be able to have the stamina and endurance to drum for ceremonies. Even so, the drummer’s usually rotate positions or rest periods throughout ceremonies.

29:15: Manbo Maude is given the bouji and rum to salute Legba nan Petwo. She first salutes the directions/cross, then goes to the entrance of the compound out of frame, and then salutes the drums before approaching the poto mitan/center pillar.

32:05: One of my sisters gets Simbi in her head. Her Simbi notoriously behaves like a snake and enjoys being on the ground. He was super happy to be in the dirt and wound up in the microphone cord and it took a concerted effort by two priests to get him off the ground. My sister, upon returning to wakefulness, was a bit dismayed as she had just taken a bath before the ceremony (baths can be a bit of a process--no running water in most of Haiti--and drying off is also a process in a tropical environment) and was now covered head to toe in dirt. The documentary crew was bound and determined to get good footage, though, and so you see the camera’s between the legs of the priests.

33:50: The salute for Ezili Dantor is begun by Manbo Maude and Dantor almost immediately starts to arrive (also, piggie close-up). All in all, Dantor arrives fairly calmly here, with a minimum of screaming and throwing Manbo Maude about.

36:00 Ezili Dantor is fully seated in Manbo Maude’s head. In possession, a Petwo Ezili Danto does not speak; instead she will click her tongue or make a specific noise over and over. Depending on who you ask, Ezili Dantor had her tongue cut out after Bwa Kayiman so she would not be able to tell the secrets seen there to anyone, or her sister Ezili Freda ripped it out during a fight. There are other Petwo Ezilis who do speak, though!

36:15: Moushwa/kerchiefs are tied onto the chwal to help the lwa control the body.

36:45: The houngenikon admonishes all the children of the house to get down on their knees--this is a met kay/master of the house, and so we kneel in respect until the spirit indicates we can stand again.

36:50 Dantor turns with and greets JM to receive her ponya/dagger. it must be blessed before being given to her, so she first takes a sprinkling of Florida Water and gives JM a scrubdown. the blade is handed to other priests to be blessed, which involves sprinkling the blade with Florida Water and lighting it on fire for a moment before presenting it.

37:45: Dantor receives her blade. Sometimes she is smiling because she is satisfied, and other times she is showing her teeth, literally or proverbially. When she is showing her teeth, I always end up feeling a bit unsettled (like at this moment). Otherwise, she often has resting Dantor face. She’s not unhappy per se, but Petwo spirits come to work--not a whole lot of time for niceties and more gentle or congenial interactions.

37:57: Big swig of Florida Water. I don’t recommend doing this. Possessed or no, this will make the body sick. My poor manmi was so bodily unhappy later that day thanks to the Florida Water chug. That shit is made off a base of rubbing alcohol, essentially.

38:40: Dantor invites us back to our feet.

38:50: Dantor salutes the drums and blesses the drummers with Florida Water and a stab of the knife.

39:45: She greets the houngenikon and has a chat with him for a moment. You can hear the actual impact of the slaps to his stomach--it’s not for show and she isn’t screwing around.

40:25: She’s also not screwing around with that knife. It has a point/edge, and it leaves marks if she wants it to. She is pressing it pretty firmly into her stomach.

41:00: See how fast that smile disappears? Teeth.

41:10: The pig is brought forward, but she is more interested in the guy holding the lead. The point of the knife is not delicately resting against his skin--he gets on his knees because she is pressing it in. The slash to the throat is not an empty threat, either--he has work to do with her and it needs to be done.

41:52: She is not without compassion, though, and she blesses him just the same because the work needs to get done and blessings will help along the way.

42:25: One of Dantor’s husbands greets her, and she blesses him and his wedding rings. Kisses are had!

43:35: She has put another man on his knees and then calls another one of her husbands forward. She has him rearrange his wedding rings, and then indicates that the man on his knees should pay attention, for Reasons. She pokes some fun at him, which is completely normal, while she dances with her husband.

45:00: She is ready for her pig. It is tied with moushwa and blessed with a little Florida Water and she (attempts) to ride it. The riding of the pig is important--it’s said that Dantor rode the French out of Haiti on the back of a pig, or rode the French out of Haiti (like they were pigs). The pig, however, is not thrilled with this course of action and makes it’s opinion known. Dantor taps it with her dagger to give it a little discipline, and tries again (successfully).

46:00: She prepares to take her sacrifice--the knife is cleaned and re-blessed. She usually doesn’t do the full sacrifice herself (and doesn’t here) but takes a symbolic sacrifice. She takes a piece of the ear here, and the pig will be put down and butchered later.

46:45: She eats some of the blood, and then begins offering blessings to all present with the sign of the cross on their forehead in blood.

48:35: A really good example of a spirit calling a spirit into someone’s head. In this case, the Dantor in Manbo Maude’s head is calling another Dantor in the woman in the blue tanktop’s head. The would-be chwal is sprinkled with Florida Water to help encourage the possession.

49:30: The second Dantor is fully seated. Later and not on film, two more Dantor came down in possession.

50:10: The two Dantor have greeted each other, and Dantor #1 invites #2 to inspect and enjoy the pig.

51:00: They embrace and the knife is removed from #2′s grasp for safety reasons only--often a spirit who is about to leave will embrace someone t keep from dumping the chwal on the ground, and nobody wants an accidental stabbing and especially not of Dantor.

51:05: A priest slips a moushwa around #2′s neck to help her stay in control of the chwal.

51:45: #2 has a bit of pig blood, and then climbs on the pig for her own ride.

53:00: A chicken is blessed and given to Dantor so she can cleanse/bless people present.

55:25: We jump to the evening portion of Fet Dantor, and we start with the Rada drums!

56:16: A priest is passed the asson, and she salutes Damballah..

59:50:..and he arrives!

PART FOUR

It is surprising that Damballah would arrive at what is largely a fet Petwo. We of course always sing regleman which always includes our Rada spirits, but Damballah’s arrival was a bit unusual. He must be covered for privacy when he comes in possession, so it was a hurry to grab coverings. He is covered first with a dwapo, and then someone fetches a sheet for him while priests attend to him.

2:42: The possession has largely ended and priests attend to the chwal, who is now utterly filthy and a bit out of sorts. Being mounted can be a really uncomfortable experience and coming back from that can leave you sort of shaken up and out of it. The chwal is escorted out of the temple so she can clean up and go change into fresh clothes.

6:45: Yanvalou!

7:40: We have processed to the the carrefour/crossroads to greet Met Kafou once again, and the ground is lit for him and for us, as usual. Folks walk through the fire as they desire or are directed.

11:20: Haitian nights are DARK. There are no streetlights and usually no electricity at night unless you run a generator.

11:30: Manbo Maude begins the salute for Ezili Dantor in the main peristyle/temple.

13:15: She’s not possessed yet, but Dantor is totally, TOTALLY on her shoulder. The temple was absolutely electric at this point--the potential was just waiting for the flashpoint.

16:18: As Manbo Maude greets that priest, Dantor starts to come. She salutes the asogwe present in a variety of ways as Dantor moves into her head.

17:50: The generator cuts out for a moment. Thankfully it came back on.

18:15: Manbo Maude’s spirits famously do NOT let go of whatever is in her hands when they start to come down. It’s almost always a struggle to get whatever it is--asson, bouji, bottle--out of her/their hands before it gets dropped or worse.

19:09: Dantor is fully seated in Manbo Maude’s head.

19:35: It’s time to help Dantor get her head tied, moushwa placed, and skirts tucked up our of her way (those dresses have a LOT of skirt).

20:34: She turns with and greets JM, albeit a bit differently than she did earlier in the day, and accepts her knife again.

21:15: Gotta dance. All her dancing is work.

21:45: She invites us to our feet.

22:20: She salutes the drums and blesses the drummers.

22:45: Resting Dantor face.

24:23: Greeting one of her men, blessing him, and dancing with him. She is genuinely enjoying herself (not teeth!), and this was adorable to watch.

25:50: Take a photo! The spirits can be super accommodating to human desires for keepsakes--they will often pose for photos (Gede is notorious for this) and other stuff. This is also really cute to watch--she has a picture taken with her man.

26:17: She has business to attend to with another one of her husbands, and she is not the least bit shy about it.

27:24: ...more business.

28:43: Another husband, back for more time! She blesses him again and communicates how much she loves him, and then goes to dance....except he doesn’t dance like he is expected, and his mother is having none of it! She literally has him by the hair and drags him off.

30:22: She wants to speak with someone who doesn’t want to speak to her. He tries to refuse, but you don’t refuse Dantor for long.

30:30: The handle on her knife needs adjusting, so she hands it off to a priest for repair while she speaks with the person in front of her.

31:20: Dantor pauses the drums and singing. She wants everyone to move to the Petwo peristyle--she calls it her peristyle, and she’s not wrong as it was built at her direction--and off we go!

32:10: Once all set in the Petwo peristyle, a bunch more Dantor--Petwo and Rada alike--come down and it’s time for Dantor to eat! Big basins full of griot/spicy fried pork and diri nwa/black rice are brought out for them to enjoy. They are all seated around the basins, and all the Dantor wait until the Dantor in Manbo Maude’s head has chosen the parts she would like to eat. The knives are passed among them and they select what they would like to eat before they start feeding people. My Dantor came down in someone and she tried to feed me some griot, but pork is prohibited right after kanzo. Having to tell her I couldn’t eat what she had picked out just for me was not fun, but she snatched that pork right back from my hand. I’m told she was testing my commitment and resolve, and it makes me happy I didn’t eat the damn tasty griot!

And...THAT’S A WRAP. That’s the whole show, as it were! What a summer. The 2017 kanzo and fete cycle in Haiti will be even busier, with an added Fet Agwe as well as at least two maryaj lwa!

[forsythexposed]

Tamla Horsford Death Forsyth County

Tamla Horsford death investigation, Forsyth county

Tamla took being a mom with great pride, always doting over her boys. Had there been a manual on raising kids, keeping calm, and being organized. She wrote it. There are three things about Tamla. She loved her family; she loved life, and she loved you. To know Tam as people often called her, was to know what pure joy and happiness looked like. How did such a beautiful woman, that had so much life to live, and so much to offer the world end up dead?

My baby loved to have fun, she loved to dance. She loved life. Lee Horsford, Husband of Tamla

National outrage local silence. This is the story of Tamla Horsford.

When Lee met Tamla, he met his best friend. And, when Lee wanted to

Tamla Horsford -Wedding Day

Tamla Horsford -Wedding Day

move his business from Florida to Cumming, Georgia. Tamla was a game. An adventure, new scenery, new memories, and better educational opportunities for her boys.

Tamla first met Michelle, her new neighbor, after moving into her new home in Cumming, Georgia. Well, their kids met, and then the adults met soon after.

Tamla’s boys were all boys. Involved in everything, from sports to after-school activities. Being a “boy mom” was never easy, but she loved every moment. Including football.

Tamla Horsford

Thanks to social media, Tam could keep in touch with all of her friends and family. Continually posting pictures of the family, particularly the boys and her friends.

Tam didn’t spend many nights away from her boys, but whenever she did, she called frequently and was sure to pack snacks after cooking dinner.

That night Saturday, November 3rd, was an exception. She and a few others “Football” moms would celebrate two things, Jeanne Meyers turning 45 and surviving another season of football.

As Tam was fixing dinner for the boys, Michelle dropped by. They chatted about the boys and did what women do, gossip. Tam told Michelle her plans for the night and invited Michelle to tag along, she declined. Those weren’t really her people. Not skipping a beat, they continued to talk and laugh like they have known each other their entire lives, but they have only known each other for 5 years.

Michelle and Tamla

She was late, fashionably late.

The boys came first, and she made sure she knew that they situated before leaving. In true BYOB style, Tam brought an imported tequila. Tam was from the Caribbean; she liked stronger drinks. Not the wine coolers, the desperate housewives were sipping.

The social butterfly. Tam never met a stranger though she wasn’t familiar with everyone present that night; she extended a hug and flash a smile to everyone. She played card games, took two or three shots, and face-timed her family to check on the boys and to show off her beautiful babies. Because before anything, she was a mother.

She wanted to leave.

Something that night made Tam feel uneasy, and she wanted to leave. But they would not allow her. Though they do not mention it in the multiple police reports gathered that night, someone took her keys and her phone. Something that night happened to this mother.

A faint knock on the door awakened that morning at 8:45 Jeanne Meyers, the homeowner of the house that was hosting the party. She and her boy toy Jose Barrera lay quiet in the bed, and the faint knocking happened again. Jeanne then summonsed the knocker to come in.

Madeline Lombardi, Jeanne Meyers’s aunt, who lived in her basement, was at the door. She needed to talk to Jose. Tells Jeanne that something is wrong with one of her friends. And she tells Jose to come to look.

Madeline didn’t call the police; instead, she called Jose. Madeline didn’t try to help Tam; instead, she called Jose.

Jose Barrera-Tamla Horsford Forsyth County

Jose Barrera-Tamla Horsford Forsyth County

Jose Barrera threw on some shorts, ran down the stairs, and yelled to Jeanne his much older girlfriend to bring her phone. Jose’s career background is in probation/law enforcement. He’s trained to study body language, perform CPR, and to be quick on his feet.

Instead of trying to feel for a pulse or even rolling Tam over, he bent her leg instead. Why? What training did Forsyth and Hall county provide that bending a person’s leg who is not responsive seemed like the best thing to do.

On Sunday, November 4th, 2018, it was cold outside, its Georgia.

Tam lay facedown in Jeanne Meyers’s backyard while she and Madeline Lombardo watched Jose Barrera attempt to bend her leg. A hung-over Jennifer Morrell came out a few moments later. Watching. They all waited while a mother like themselves lay face down. No one attempted to give Tam medical attention, no one. Jose Barrera instead paced around her body, poking at her as he replayed the events from the previous night. Almost ignoring the dispatcher’s questions,

“Can you tell if she is breathing.”

They dispatched the police, crime scene, and to the home of Jeanne Meyers. Not an EMT or any medical provider. No one attempted to help Tamla Horsford, the mother of five boys. She laid face down until the coroner collected her. And took her to the GBI headquarters.

They found her “face-planted,” as described by Jeanne Meyers. Tamla Horsford wasn’t wearing shoes or a jacket. Stacey and Thomas Smith had her cellphone. Unlike Tamla, She would have never separated herself from her boys, and having her phone would have provided her communication with them, had an emergency arose. It was cold, and she only had on her pajamas, no shoes, no jacket. Also, unlike Tamla, Let me explain.

Tamla was from the Caribbean.

She enjoyed warm weather and a good time. One of her friends even noted she always wore a jacket indoors,

“Tam was cold nature, we used to tease her a lot about always wearing a jacket.”

I’ve mentioned multiple times that Tamla Horsford was a mother. Because before anything else, that is what she was. Tam didn’t arrive at the party on time because the boys came first. She and her husband Lee did everything possible for the boys, any move or decision always went with the boys in mind.

If it ain’t right, it ain’t right.

Michelle Wynn Graves is that ride or die friend that everyone needs.

Nothing about the statements given to police or even the explanation given by police made sense. So, Michelle Graves told them. Since the mysterious and suspicious death of her friend, Michelle Wynn Graves has been vocal about trying to understand what happened that night. Even with Jeanne Meyers and the Forsyth 12 trying to silence her.

Abuse of process and intimidation are crimes, so is filing a false police report. Jeanne Meyers filed a frivolous and fictitious police report against Michelle. She then attempted to get a stalking order taken out against her. Because what Jeanne Meyers was saying made little sense, so Michelle became very outspoken in her quest for the truth.

Jose Barrera

I wouldn’t be writing this article if it were not for Jose Barrera.

Because a healthy black mother that ended up dead under very suspicious circumstances is not at all suspicious. Nor is it newsworthy. But when a court employee who was a witness of death is under investigation. Barrera misused his work credentials to look up information on a case and gets fired, is newsworthy. And with that, it flicked a tiny spark with me, and the rest of the world got to know Tamla Horsford.

Aside from her family and friends, no one local to the case made any effort in solving it. They even interviewed witnesses an entire 3 weeks after the fact. And Jeanne Meyers also interrupted Madeline Lombardo’s interview to give the detectives Dunkin Donut’s gift cards. Like even she realized that this isn’t the sharpest group of cops she’s dealing with, or they were cheap. Cheap and dumb, and she could sway them with donuts.

Forsyth police

Jose Barrera had connections inside Forsyth County sheriff’s office.

Before being rendered unemployed for his policy violations. He has ties and connections with multiple LEO’s in Forsyth County and the court. Not a single investigator said, or thought it was a good idea to have an outside agency to investigate this? No. The world-class and sophisticated detectives that makeup Forsyth county’s criminal investigation unit did not. Investigator Michael Edwards Christian initially thought Tamla, tripped over a small object in the yard, ground level and had a medical emergency and died.

The investigation was half-ass.

They left evidence at the scene. Responding officers drove Tamla’s car to her home. The investigation into her death stood still until Sandra Rose posted about the case on her blog, and others online took notice of the claim. Within a week, the sheriff’s office wrote a statement. The following week they held a press conference announcing the case had been closed, and her death deemed accidental.

Unacceptable. From the case was incompetently and grossly mishandled. Ron Freeman, the sheriff of Forsyth county, claims Forsyth is a former shell of its racist past. And now a progressive county. That was a lie. Forsyth is still as racist as they were 30 years ago that they are today. Prosecutors are still over prosecuting people of color who are being accused of crimes and under prosecuting crimes when they are the victim.

I could have been Tamla Horsford, my mom, sisters, aunts, friends, even cousins. You could have been Tamla Horsford.

Tamla Horsford was a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, and a friend. She laid face down and not a signal person from the homeowner, her alcoholic friends, the passive aunt, her boy toy boyfriend, nor any of the responding officers attempted to help Tamla.

Both Jose and Jeanne spoke as if they already knew she was dead before attempting to help her. Tamla Horsford laid face down for hours, and no one helped her. These actions within itself are criminal. Tamla Horsford deserved better, her boys and family deserve more. Demand justice for Tamla Horsford.

Tamla Horsford

Forsyth County News.