#recently went to my cousins wedding and was blown away by how well her and husband planned it out

[alwaysrunningoutoftime]

crying over a nonexistent josh and sam wedding where hannah is the maid of honor and beth is a groomsman.

hannah is laser focused on giving her best friend and brother the most beautiful memorable wedding possible. hannah and josh had to reassure sam not to think too hard about the money (lucky them), sam only let them increase the budget a bit. jokes on her though, the washington family showered her with wedding presents, they just love spoiling her.

hannah, sam and josh work together with the planning, hannah and josh do go a little crazy though. hannah sometimes gets swept up in too many absurd romantic ideas. sam gently turns down the ideas and thinks of a more practical idea that is within her and josh's interest.

when josh starts to troll, sam gives him a death glare of a thousand suns. now he's scared to joke around during wedding planning time. he often just sits cozied up to her, thinks thrice before speaking and offers only the best of ideas. sam always gets the final say. one of her musts that she would splurge on is a live painter.

beth fiercely competes with chris to be the best man. Josh refuses to choose between them and sits back and enjoys watching them one up each other. they went really overboard with his bachelor party, it was a very confusing amalgamation of a scavenger hunt and getting as drunk as possible. josh asks chris and beth to emcee during the reception, they accept gracefully.

josh is in charge of finding the best photographer and a skilled videographer who makes same day video edits, highlighting their time getting ready and the wedding itself, shown during the reception.

josh and sam did a cute pre-wedding video of them around the city going on dates and being in love. sam, at first, didn't even want to do it. she was super nervous, and she feels really awkward in front of cameras. But after a heartfelt confession from josh explaining how he wants to memorialize this chapter of his life and capture that feeling. he's never felt happier, everyday he wakes up with a huge grin on his face, feeling grateful he's marrying the love of his life, that this is the start of the rest of his life. even if he has shown her time and time again what a romantic sap he is, sam is still blown away by this side of josh, and this conversation holds a special place in her heart. during the shoot, he's encouraging and comforting and sam feels safe in his arms and looking into his eyes, forgetting there's a camera even there.

[collecting-stories]

New York - pt. 16 - Tommy Shelby

Request: Tommy and the reader celebrate Christmas morning with their small family. Ada and Karl make an appearance. @danyodonoghues

Able Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

"Mum! Daddy!" Careless feet trampled over your legs as they climbed up the bed. "Wake up, wake up!" A foot went into Tommy's side and you laughed as he reached a hand out and gently grabbed a small ankle, pulling the little girl down onto her bottom.  

"What's this?" He asked, looking at his daughter, who was now laying flat on her back. "Do you know what time it is bug?"

"Yes but daddy Santa's come!" Evie explained, turning her head to look at you as if you could offer her some backup in this situation.  

"Santa's come?" You asked, playing along. Tommy groaned beside you realizing he would not even get to sleep in on Christmas.  

"Yes and he's left presents for Teddy and I!" The five year old fell onto her bottom as Tommy shifted in bed, trying to bury himself further into your side. As if that would stop him from having to get up.  

"Well then, we'd best get up." You replied.  

Evelyn crawled up the bed, wiggling herself between you and Tommy, despite there being no room there. She kissed your cheek and then turned and kissed her father's. "Please daddy, we've gotta get up."

Tommy made no reply but he rolled away from both of you, climbing out of bed and crossing the room to get his trousers from the chair he'd left them on. Once he was properly dressed he came back to the bed, lifting his daughter up and over his shoulder as she laughed uncontrollably.  

"Let's let mum get dressed. You and I'll make some breakfast." He announced. "Have you woken up Aunt Ada?"

"Not yet!" Evelyn suddenly squirmed, remembering that her aunt was down the hall in the guest room with Karl. They had travelled home for Christmas this year and were staying with you. Evelyn and Karl had been thrilled about it as they both claimed to miss each other terribly, though you were certain Evelyn didn't fully remember her cousin.  

Tommy let her down and she took off down the hall, tiny feet pattering against the hard wood floor. You were alright sitting up and pulling on a pair of knee high stockings. Tommy didn't leave to make breakfast as he'd promised, instead coming over to the bed and sitting down beside you.  

"We've not even gotten to Pol's yet." He sighed, resting his head on your shoulder.  

After breakfast and present-opening the whole family was due at Polly's for the rest of the day. John and Esme and the kids would be there. Michael and Finn and Arthur, with his new wife and baby, Isaiah and Jeremiah and Lizzie. There would be Blinders and their families through the doors all day, stopping for dinner or just to exchange gifts. But first you had breakfast and present opening in your much less crowded, though just as excited, house.  

"Let's go you two, I've been promised breakfast and presents." Ada called, knocking her fist against the open bedroom door.  

"We'll be there." You promised.  

Ada disappeared down the hall, calling out that she would get Theodore from his bedroom. Tommy moved, letting you up so that you could get dressed for the rest of the day. The kids were still in the Christmas pajamas your mum had gifted them last night when you took them round for dinner. Though you had started talking to your family again Tommy refused and so you had celebrated Christmas with them the night before, just you and the kids. Knowing Ada and Karl were home your mother had shown some kindness in making a third set of pajamas for him.  

"Whose making breakfast then? I heard Evelyn say it was Tom but I'm hoping she's only kidding." Ada stated, looking over at you as you walked into the living room.  

"I'll make it." You laughed, "we wouldn't want to make ourselves sick on Christmas."  

Once breakfast was settled and everyone had eaten enough to constitute a meal it was back to the living room. Arthur had bought you the tree after you complained that Tommy was dragging his feet on it. The angel that sat atop it just barely grazed the ceiling and it took up the whole space in front of the window but you had still run out of room for ornaments. Old blown glass ones that your aunt had given you as a wedding present. A few that were hanging lower had broken when Teddy had been playing around the tree but it was still beautiful.  

Tommy sat beside you on the sofa, Ada taking up the arm chair as the three of you watched the children tear through gift wrap to find presents. Evelyn's big gift was a dollhouse that she and Karl quickly became engrossed in. It had been carved in London to look like your house. Ada sat down on the floor with the two so that she could play with them. Theodore had only received a teddy bear and he was too preoccupied tearing through paper to care about gifts at all.  

"We're going to put a betting shop in it!" Evie announced, "wait till Henry sees."  

"Henry can come here to play, it's much too large to be moving about." Tommy commented. He picked Theodore up off the ground, settling the toddler in his lap. The boy had the same blue eyes as Tommy, though so did Evelyn, and freckles running over his chubby cheeks.  

"Daddy!" Theodore made to grab at his father's face in excitement.  

"Dad, can Teddy not be allowed to play with the house?" Evelyn asked, leaning back and looking up at you.  

"What's the matter with him playing with it?"

"He'll ruin it." Karl replied. "He likes to break things."

"We'll put it up on a table." You promised. Theodore had recently adopted a destructive streak. You were certain he got it from the Shelby side of the family, given that Esme's youngest enjoyed breaking everything as well.  

"I have a present for you all," Ada announced.  

She had run the idea by you and Tommy last year when she visited. Out of all the Shelby children there were only two girls, Evelyn and Katie, and she wanted to take them to America with her. A trip across the Atlantic to New York for a month or two. While Tommy was hesitant to send his only daughter to another country, one that was across an ocean, you were much more supportive of the idea.  

There was so much that you had missed when you were younger, some from inability and some because you were too afraid. You wanted Evelyn to have all sorts of different experiences and you didn't want her to think that anything could hold her back from doing something.  

"What is it?" Evelyn asked, scooting closer to her aunt.  

"How about, after the Christmas season...you come back to New York with Karl and I?" Ada asked.  

"All the way to New York?" Evelyn asked, looking back at you and Tommy.

"You could see my house." Karl replied, eager for his cousin to say yes.

"Oh gosh, can I go?" She was up on her feet, climbing onto the sofa beside Tommy and fixing him with the biggest sad eyes she could muster.

"We've already talked about it with Aunt Ada, it's up to you." He replied.

"Yes! Yes yes! I can go to New York. Oh this is the best Christmas!" Evelyn hugged Tommy tightly, even sparing a kiss for Theodore. She crawled over them to give you a hug as well, "I love you!"  

"Thank your Aunt Ada, she's the one who'll have to put up with you." You teased.  

"Best Christmas Ever!" She exclaimed, hurrying off the sofa to give Ada and Karl both hugs as well.  

-

Just a little drabble of what Christmas is probably like in the Able Series. Also, John’s just never gonna be dead ever in my stories,

[danwetzelsports]

In lieu of the above video (courtesy of @nickkrause08) showing the friendly skies turning into fight club – not to mention all the other airline incidents of late – I am updating my recent post/rant on the worst people you’ll meet on your flight.

  Hint: it isn’t the flight attendants, TSA agents or that overstressed/underpaid woman working the gate.

  As noted in the first post, flying can be stressful and disappointing. I get it. I’ve flown over one million miles on Delta/Northwest alone and probably hundreds of thousands on other airlines. I’ve been to airports big and small, in airplanes big and small and seated next to passengers big and small. I’ve been stranded, abandoned and slept one night in a chair inside the Minneapolis airport. Whatever horror story you have, there’s a good chance I can match it.

  Still, come on people. We have an actual brawl on an airplane? This is the discount flight from Burbank, not the prison yard. If someone disrespects you, chill. In fact, always chill. Your flight will go better. And sleep. And shut up. The other passengers don’t want to talk to you. Trust me.

  Somehow the public momentum is to defend the customers and blame everything on the airlines. No, it’s usually us, the passengers.

  Remember the woman whose baby almost got bumped because the flight attendant was trying to remove a doublewide stroller she wanted to bring down the aisle? Could have been handled better but … why the hell were you trying to bring a doublewide stroller onto a plane when it clearly and always is prohibited?

  How about the woman who went to the media because flight attendants wouldn’t let her go to the bathroom while the fasten seat belt light was on and instead handed her a cup? Pretty funny story, but there is a reason why they have a fasten seatbelt light. It isn’t safe to wander around the plane. You can disagree with their judgment – there are many policies on board that make no sense. That’s still the deal. It’s probably a federal law. This isn’t your living room. You want full control of your actions? The interstate is right over there.

  And yes, getting bumped from flights happens but the practice of overselling planes is good for customers, because it helps lower costs and allows more people each day to book flights.

  Airline travel is amazing – amazingly safe, amazingly convenient and amazingly cheap. Perfect. Not at all. Anyone who expects perfect, let alone on a $119 supersaver, is a fool.

  So here are my updated and now expanded nine worst people on a plane (in no particular order). And I’m not even getting to the obvious ones such as belligerent drunks or the would-be UFC brawlers in the video or the barking dogs – no dogs other than guide dogs should be allowed in the damn main cabin, by the way. Give me a break with the “comfort pet.”

  1. Starbucks Lady

  It’s a 6:30 a.m. cross-country flight and you felt the need to get a Venti double Frappuccino or whatever that creation is? Not only are you going to spend the first hour of the flight sucking loudly through a straw, but that creation has enough caffeine and sugar to drop a horse. Look lady, no one is asking you to fly the plane. Exactly how alert do you need to be?

  You want to know how to make air travel better? Go to sleep. Flight goes faster, you don’t need to be entertained, you can ignore the other passengers and you catch up on some rest (fitful, but whatever). Don’t tell me you can’t sleep on planes between a gargle of Starbucks. You have to have a plan – turn off electronics, read a book, avoid stimulants. It isn’t hard. I feel for like 6-foot-10 guys, but you aren’t that.

  Don’t book a window seat, drink a massive coffee and then wonder why you are as fidgety as a kindergartener, unable to sleep and have to get up three times to go to the bathroom – thus bothering the rest of us.

  2. Big bag guy

  It ain’t going to fit, buddy. Maybe it’s compensating for other parts of their life. Maybe they just really think they are going to get over on the airline for that $25 baggage fee. Whatever it is, that massive roller isn’t getting into the tiny overheard compartment.

  These guys are the worst. They push and slam and bitch and moan. The people already seated below them are panicked and jostled. Some properly sized bag is inevitably getting crushed up there.

  The guy gets angrier and angrier as he tries to defy the laws of physical space. Soon he’s regaling everyone about that time the airline lost his luggage in Albuquerque – cry me a river, we’re not on your side.

  Then the poor flight attendant has to come by and tell him he needs to check it (for free) and he gets mad at them. Everyone’s stress goes up. Look, pay the fee or pack less. It’s simple. How much crap you need for this weekend in Erie?

  The baggage fee thing is horrible but they have to do it because all you fools will only pay for the cheapest flight that comes up on Expedia. Then you complain when the flight isn’t luxurious like it supposedly used to in the Mad Men days or something. It’s like someone buying a Chevy Spark and then bitching it isn’t as roomy as a Cadillac Escalade.

  3. Idiot/Patriot in the TSA line

  You know these people are there to stop us from getting blown up, right? Imperfect system but it’s the best we’ve got. No matter what you think, TSA agents want to get rid of you as quickly as possible. They are trying to be professional under impossible circumstances.

  So, can you please pay attention? September 11 was over a decade and a half ago … the freakin’ laptop has to come out of the bag. Yes, a cell phone is a metal item. And actually I am not surprised that your oversized belt buckle caused the x-ray to ping. It’s not shocking at all.

  This isn’t that hard. Follow the stupid rules. You’re slowing up the line because you are a clown.

  The only people worse are the ones who believe the TSA is infringing on their Constitutional rights with that there new-fangled body scanner or a pat down or merely existing. What, you think I’m a terrorist? If you’re that into your privacy, then cool. Just find a better way to get the woods of Idaho.

  Twitter follower @FakeKevinKugler added a subset to this: the person who was sent to TSA PreCheck but decides to clog everything up by stripping down anyway. You undeservedly reached the promised land and this is how you act? Pay attention.

  (Then again, TSA PreCheck should not just be handed out randomly like it is these days. Change that rule, TSA.)

  4. Burrito Bowl Dude

  Tight connections and long trips can mean there is limited time to get a meal at the airport. And we know you aren’t getting anything substantive in coach. So people bring food on the plane.

Here’s a tip. Maybe on those days, you just have a protein bar. Or eat right away as you wait for everyone else to board. Not these people. They have to bring an elaborate, often sloppy meal, let it sit in a bag for an hour stinking up the place and then pull it out and try to spread out.

  There’s usually some assembly required, some salsa to pour over, some Sriracha or salad dressing. Then a knife and fork come out. You need the dexterity of Houdini to eat this thing in such a small space so rice or lettuce is inevitably flying everywhere and chicken is spilling and it’s a massive mess.

  You’re bothering me now. I don’t care if it’s good.

  5. Drink Cart Enthusiast

  They need to get rid of the drink cart on all flights under like two hours. It’s a rolling debacle. If you are so desperate for hydration or a tiny snack then buy your own.

  Yet they pull that thing out and people act like dogs that just saw their master walk in with the treat jar.

  You’ve never had a Diet Coke before? A package of five to six pretzels? I have had people wake me up to let me know the drink cart is here so I wouldn’t miss out.

  The drink cart blocks the aisle, slams knees and elbows and generally only gives the customers something else to bitch about because they didn’t get the whole can or found the peanuts an unsatisfying meal. You know, back in the day they used to carve up steak. Yeah, well, back in the day flights cost a thousand bucks and planes crashed all the time.

  I once had a 37-minute flight to Indianapolis delayed for 1:45 because “catering” needed to restock the drink cart. That means we could have flown to Indy, deplaned, slammed a beer at the airport bar, reboarded and returned.

  6. Maintenance Know-It-All Guy

  I’m as suspicious as anyone when they announce that the flight is being delayed for maintenance because I assume they use that excuse to cut down on complaints. You know why? Because it works.

  Or it should except for the guy standing in the gate area who immediately starts huffing and arguing that there is no maintenance issue and it’s a big conspiracy. Really, how exactly do you know? Congrats to you if you truly are so proficient in diagnosing a $300 million airplane that you don’t even have to look at it to draw your conclusion. If you really enjoy such a skillset, however, maybe you should make a career out of that rather than schlepping to Des Moines with the rest of us. Seems like something that would pay well.

  You don’t want them to check and make sure the plane is working properly? You’re troubled by an airline that demands all the parts and emergency back-ups are working.

  You do realize what the alternative is, correct? If you think you’re late for your cousin’s wedding weekend now …

  7. Delusions of Grandeur in 38B

  Many Twitter followers mentioned this one. You’re way in the back of the plane yet somehow believe once the plane arrives at its destination and pulls up to the skybridge that you’ll somehow beat the crowd and race off the plane first. I get the desperation to make a connecting flight, but it isn’t happening. Usain Bolt couldn’t charge the aisle fast enough to make it. Accept reality and wait your turn.

  8. Frequent flyer poser

  Submitted by Twitter follower @BoneilHoops is: “The guy that tells you how much he travels – has Gold Medallion bag tag.”

  Ah yes, the “sort-of” frequent flyer who loves to yell at the gate agent or flight attendant about how much of a valued customer they are when, well, they really aren’t that valued of a customer. They gave George Clooney in the movie his own number to call for a reason. They gave you an easily identifiable bag tag and you may have gotten that by falling for their credit card deal, not actually flying.

  I once heard a guy complaining to a gate agent about not getting an upgrade and asked what he needed to do to get upgraded to first class. This was on a flight to Europe no less. The woman calmly said, “fly our airline more.” Classic. 

9. Boarding Group Z Gate Blockers

  More Twitter recommendations: apparently these people, who crowd around and block the boarding gate even though their group isn’t getting called for awhile, are referred to as “gate lice.” I had no idea, but it works.

  They have a process to get on the plane. The Diamond Medallion and First Class people go first. Deal with it. If you find yourself in Group 7 or whatever, get the hell out of the way. Standing in front of the little ropes that lead to the ticket scanning machine when you aren’t getting on for the next 20 minutes assures only one thing, it will take even longer to get on.

  This is a partial list. In summary, as much as I sometimes hate airline bureaucracy, I hate you people even more – not enough to have a fist fight in row 18 over it, but still.

[tairnandtyrsa]

Till the End Chapter 1

TAIRN

Chapter 1 - Brandon

     My paws hit the smooth ground in a consistent pattern of whispered thud, thud, thud as I raced through the forest. The whispers came back to me in echoes - my older sister's paws, barely grazing the floor before being thrust forward again in an attempt to get ahead of me. I grinned, and sent Arizona a mental image of me crossing a finish line, wolves all around us howling at my success. I caught only a glimpse of the image she sent back to me before I coughed on dust thrown up by her flying past me, and her tail almost hit me in the face.

     Try and keep up, little bro, she sent telepathically.

      My legs roared as I stretched them farther, reaching for longer strides, but it was a welcome pain, a feeling I couldn't get as a human. I dodged trees and fallen branches, nearly silent, as I thundered behind her down the worn old path to the Den.

       We arrived to a too-quiet atmosphere atypical of the usually bustling hub that was characteristic of the Den, where most of us practically grew up. I returned back to my human form, and the smells in the air immediately softened, but they still burned as they filled my nostrils. The scent of rusty pennies made me uneasy.

       Six limp bodies were strewn across the wide field that served as the main ground, halfheartedly dumped like garbage, their eyes still open. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe without tasting the smell. They were covered, but still, faces, swollen eyes, limbs bending at abnormal angles; pictures that had been ingrained into my brain flashed past. I couldn't get it out. The putrid air filled my nostrils and my mouth, coming in too fast. I felt bile creep up my throat and the memories came back vivid. The first time I'd seen a dead body was when I was seven, and I remembered standing there, screaming, for a long time before someone steered me away. I'd had nightmares for weeks.

       I reeled and darted behind some bushes, too dizzy to be really conscious of anything. The mini-breakfast I had that morning came up in a rush, nearly missing the upper branches of a berry bush. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, heaving, trying to focus my eyes on a singular berry on a bush where I hadn't vomited, staring at it until it came into clear focus. Panting for breath that didn't make me more nauseous, I glanced back at Arizona, who stood perfectly still as she stared at a body off to the right.

        It was a woman. She had already been covered with a white cloth, so all I could see was a hand poking out from underneath, clutching a dark purple purse. My mom had a purse like that; I remembered grabbing it for her before getting into the car to go to a cousin's wedding. That purse could've been my mom's purse. That hand could've been her hand. I felt sick and all of a sudden I wanted to see my mom, I wanted to see she was okay. I knew she was; she was across the clearing, standing with my dad, but I needed to see her. I needed to see she was alive. But I couldn't stop staring. I stared at the purse to see if it would move, or, more likely, to see if the hand moved it. But it stayed there, the purple leather reflecting the sun's rays, interrupted only by the woman's fingers loosely wrapped around it.

         "Arizona! Brandon! Brandon!" I finally managed to tear my gaze away from the purse and looked up. Our parents were running toward us, and I got a glimpse of several people walking around, covering more bodies with cloths, before I was wrapped in a hug by my mom.

         "You shouldn't see this," my mom whispered to me, holding me tightly by the shoulders as she turned me around, but not before I saw the six members of the Council hovering around one particular body, blocking the view, heads bowed and quietly talking. "Evan," she said, her voice even and smooth, and I held onto the comfort of it in the chaos of everything. "Take the kids home and get them something to eat. They don't need to be here." My dad nodded, and I felt his strong hand on my back as he guided us away from the scene.

         Walking back to the car felt more like running as I tried to organize my brain. Things were moving too fast, thoughts were coming from everywhere at once and disappearing before I could understand what I was even thinking. I hadn't felt it until now, but a headache had started to form in the back of my mind, a consistent, even thumping that made me dizzy with every thud of pain. I couldn't think straight, I didn't want to think straight. I'd never seen something like this happen - not at the Den. It was a safe space, it'd always been a safe space, and now, this? It looked more like a battlefield than a sanctuary. I didn't know that woman with the purple purse, or probably any of those people, but it still felt like I'd been attacked. This was personal. These were my people. I didn't know any of them, but that didn't matter. You didn't attack the Tairn and not get caught. Whoever did this, they were cowards. They killed seven of our people, and ran. The thought knocked the breath out of me, made it hard for me to see what was in front of me.

          I didn't realize we were home until my dad actually pushed me through the door, and the entrance lit up. It immediately hit me how clean, and white, my house was. All the walls were white, the staircase, all the doors, the marble counters. Small scrapes on the wall were so noticeable, and all of them stood out to me now, bringing back a tsunami of memories. The long scratch on the wall opposite the kitchen: me having accidentally dragged my baseball bat along it when I was younger as I went to tell my dad I was ready for practice. The splotches of paint, each one a slightly different color than all the others, on the bathroom door: Dad testing out different colors for all the doors to bring some change in the house, but wasn't able to finish because Mom went into labor with me. The three-inch hole in the ceiling next to the chandelier: where the chandelier was originally supposed to go when the house was built, but the first people who moved in decided they didn't like it and changed it.

          The brightness of the room and the light colors was such a contrast to the mix of blood and grass, it was blinding. My eyes struggled to focus, and my head spun with thoughts I didn't want to think about.  All I saw were flashes of different colors. I felt nauseous.

          "I'm going to lie down," I said, and started slowly climbing up the stairs.

                                                        -

           I lied down in my bed and closed my eyes. My mouth still tasted like puke and my stomach was in tight knots. My mind was still racing, so I tried to calm it down.

           Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. Once my breathing had returned to normal, about a minute later, I tried to think.

           Who would do this?

           I recalled all the history I knew about us - what happened in the wars, our allies and enemies, hoping that something would jump out at me. There was nothing that I could see. Alliances had changed quiet drastically in the last war, but none of the newly formed relationships had shown signs of trouble. There wasn't anything I was aware that we had done in the recent past that would upset the balance of any of the alliances. This was an attack out of the blue.

           But why?

           I was coming up with motives as to why anyone would want to harm us when a realization hit me like a truck. In all the times in history the Tairn had been attacked - there wasn't a single time when we hadn't responded. This wasn't over.

           The realization made my heart pick up speed, and I had to stop and calm it down again as the most horrible thoughts crept into my mind.

           War?

           No, no. I shook my head. Six dead was bad - it was really bad - and whoever was responsible would pay, but it wouldn't end in war. War only meant more bloodshed. That was not the Tairn's goal. But no matter how I reassured myself that there was a solution to all of this, my brain kept jumping to worst-case scenarios. Full blown war. National scale. Thousands dead. The pounding in my head got louder the more I thought, and finally it was too much to bear. I closed my eyes, taking Dad's advice, welcoming the cold darkness that blocked out any noise.

                                                      -                             

            Dad shook me awake, and I opened my eyes.

             "I left the macaroni on the table. Try to eat some. I have to go. They're going to need some help controlling the chaos with everything that just happened. You guys going to be okay?" I nodded, and slowly sat up.

             I handed him the cloth back as I looked around, trying to see if I would get dizzy. Nope. I looked over at the stack of books on my desk, hoping that reading something would get my mind off all the horrible stuff that just happened. Death was one thing, but what I saw, that was just -

             "They murdered them," I said. Dad looked at me, shock coloring his face.            

             "The Council's going to take care of this," he said reassuringly.

             "Are they?" We had all been entrusted to the Council's care, but they couldn't foresee or stop this, why would they be able to stop another one from happening?

              "Of course, Brandon. Don't worry about it." I didn't believe him. Six dead people was something to worry about. I tried to change the subject, just wanting him to leave so I could stop thinking about it.

              "Where's Arizona?"

              "Arizona's sleeping too," Dad said, glancing toward the bedroom door. Thankfully, he got the hint, and said, "I have to go, but I have my cell on me. Is that okay?" I nodded, waiting for him to leave so I could distract myself. "Okay, well goodnight." I didn't hear him close the door, and I didn't care.

                                                     —      

               I woke up feeling a bit more refreshed, and the headache had subsided. I stepped into the shower to clear my thoughts, letting the warm water run over me as I stood under the showerhead. I felt better just standing there. My thoughts came more clearly now, and I let out a relieved breath. No more panic. Now I could really think.

               There is a solution to all of this, I told myself as I stepped out and crept back to my room. I changed into an old t-shirt and some comfy jeans, and started to climb downstairs just as Mom called up for dinner.

               It was casserole, and we ate it in silence, all of us too tired and troubled to talk. Arizona broke the ice with a sharp crack.

               "What do we do now?"

               Mom choked on a bite of chicken, and carefully picked up her glass, her hand shaking, and swallowed a few gulps of red wine before answering. "We're not talking about this," she said sternly.

               I looked over at Arizona, and there was a bright fire in her eyes. She was hurt by what happened, angry about it too; she wasn't going to back down. On that note, neither was I. We were Tairn too; we had a right to know. Just because it was a delicate subject didn't mean they could keep us shut out.

               "What happened?" I demanded more than asked. "Tell us."

               Mom sighed; she knew what she was up against, and she knew she would lose. "I don't know. We don't know right now, guys. We found them late this morning, so we still don't know anything. But I promise, we'll tell you as soon as we learn something. Can we just please have a peaceful dinner now?" I could see lines of worry around her eyes, and bags underneath. The stress was getting to her. I wasn't going to get any answers out of her if I ticked her off, just a one way ticket to my room, so I backed down a bit.          

               "Was it an ambush?" I asked, softer this time. No one answered me; an uneasy silence filled the void instead. "We need to know how this happened if we're going to do anything about it," I continued, a bit more urgent. "Who would do this? Why? What do they want? How are we supposed to respond? Are we going to respond? Are we retaliating with violence? What is happening?" Once I started, I couldn't stop. It all came out, all these worrying thoughts I had been thinking all day blurted out.

               I hesitated to ask the last question, more scared of the answer than anything. I'd grown up in a time of peace for the Tairn. I'd seen death, but never anything like this, and a cold stone feeling in my gut told me I was going to be seeing a lot more of it.

               "Are we safe?" I asked, voice almost a whisper. I was more scared for the Pack than for myself. Attacks against myself, I could take. It was part of my training to take them. Assess the situation, control it, take care of it, keep the others safe. Lessons branded into my mind since I was little. But I couldn't assess the situation if no one told me anything.

               "Say something," I pleaded. The silence was earsplitting, and it was more than I could take. That's it. The silence was enough. I was done.

               "Say something!" I exclaimed, standing up and throwing my chair back in the process. "We are under attack, we might be going to war, and all you can do is sit there! Why am I the only one reacting to this?!" I screamed, furious now. My parents said nothing. I looked at Arizona. "Aren't you pissed?!"

               "I am," she said, eyes burning with passion. Her voice was low and thick, a menacing sound that cut through the thick air. "I'm ready to tear whoever did this limb from limb. They'll pay for what they did." There was an intense, sick feeling of satisfaction in what she said. I felt her fury, as strong as my own, and found disappointment and disbelief when I saw my parents just sitting there, deadpan.

               "Tell me what to do! Tell us what we can do!" I was pleading now. I was angry, and I wanted to help, I wanted to protect my Pack, protect my people. They were innocent, they didn't deserve this. I had thought my parents wanted the same; I had expected them to respond with the same ferocity. Tragedies were supposed to awaken the warriors in us, unite us as one single army; they only seemed to be breaking my parents. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" I screamed.

               "Brandon." Dad's voice was stern and unforgiving. "Go to your room. This behavior is unacceptable." I stared him down, daring him to say more. Something was better than nothing. "Now," was all he said. I turned and stormed off, fury now radiating off me. How could they just sit there?! I heard Arizona's voice scream something, and my dad threaten her. Footsteps behind me, and I turned my head to see Arizona following me.

               At least somebody in this house is still sane, I sent to her, and she offered me a quick smile before looking pissed again.

               Let's find out what happened, she said.

[lovingphantompatrol-blog]

My final countdown began 2 weeks before the big day and all the crazy was coming to a head. Every worry became a serious thought and then ever thought became a nightmare.  By the time the wedding got here it is a wonder that I didn’t lose my mind and call off the whole darn thing.  Never in my life would I admit to a soul that I had some doubts and they where all about me.

The spiritualist we choose to perform the wedding stopped by to discuss what he wanted done to the are of land that needed blessings.  I was suffering through a mandatory that night so there for the conversation is second hand information but non the less disturbing.  The kind and gentle man was some what confused of my heritage.  He was informed by my mother that my real father was a white man that lived near the Jersey shore and not the Native American man that I claimed.  My betrothed laughed a hearty laugh and ashore him my father lives across the street from us and was indeed invited to the celebration. The spiritualist left jolly as alway, or so I was told, I’m sure he had questions about me and my mother.

It defiantly had me asking questions about the past and every other childhood mystery leading up and into todays world.  I was always told my father cheated on my mother a lot.  She in turn just walked away with the clothes on our backs.  My memories from back. then are in short snap movies.  I can remember lying on the floor and rolling off of a crochet blanket on to some nasty green shag carpet. To this day I hate shag carpet! That was the first house and people where totally amazed when the rooms, mostly mine and the livening room where described so vividly. My next description was of an apartment complex.  I was three then and that life experience was short lived.  The rooms where small and most of the people my mother met where not nice.  Then the little country town of Delmont NJ.  I turned four years old when we moved there and thats when the white man became my step father.  We lived there until I was sixteen. Not sure why this is important other then I almost sent that man an invitation to my big day.  Yes, it would have been out of spite.

Every time I turned around a mandatory was awaiting.  Younger co-workers always having a reason not to stay always kept me cycled to the top of the list.  Employing my cousin to handle all the things I didn’t have time for was indeed a  good move.  She designed the decorations, wedding cake and all the little things that made the day special.  She totally loved the idea that my day was a fantasy day programmed in my head for as long as I could remember.  As the day came closer that made me nervous as well..  Again my mother.  That part of the family is not high on my mothers favor list and I wasn’t to sure how she would handle seeing them at the wedding.

  My maid of honor, a high school friend was planning to drive hours away just to be in my wedding.  This filled me with great joy. She had stayed with me for a few weeks the

year before and me being the undying loner was happy when she landed her own place and became independent again.  She still took care of my son and we had female bonding fun time.  When she fell in love with her boo and moved away.  I missed her immensely.  I really did enjoy the company and late night talks.  Every one needs to talk every now and then.  I had so much I wanted to say to her and was extremely elated when she said she was coming home for me.  Then it hit me, of all my friends my mother doesn’t like her a bit.  Only two of my friends have had the wrath of my mother laid upon them. The first one speaks to me but really doesn’t have the time for me and now my maid of honor will be enemy number one in her sights. Ohh boy

  I never felt so loved in my whole entire life as people from all over the the southern side of the U.S. said the would attend our little shing dig.  Which by far was growing into something huge. The introvert in me was screaming out with mad hysteria and the adventurist was jumping for joy.  Everything was coming together, the invitations showed up and where mailed out.  Some people asked for a invite as a keep sake.  That made me giddy.  Never had I felt such positive energy.

The last free single day for my man and me was a Friday and thats when my cousin came over to decorate.  She turned the back yard into a flower garden with huge butterflies gliding around.  Yes, the where fake but in my imagination the where alive and could fly away with any and all misgivings.  My paradise, soul calming place to regenerate after a bad day in the outside world would soon be invaded by family and friends that would celebrate our union together. Making my paradise even more special for me. A Buzz rule is this place is the neutral spot and everyone gets along here. Therefore  I vowed to meditate and pray about my mothers new negativity and all will go well.  Soon time would tell.

As my nerves of steel started to unravel so did I.  The girl did not show to style my hair.  The wedding planner / cousin thinks fast on her feet. She called her daughter and asked if she could squeeze me in.  Her daughter is a hairstylist and one of the best in this area.  She has gotten so good that you must make an appointment to see her.  I’m so filled with dreamy air I don’t keep appointments.  I used to see her every week now I’m lucky to see her in passing.  She took me in between customers I just had to wash and dry my hair and she would do the rest.  As always she did an awesome job.

I get home with a haze of smoking tires behind me.  Thank God the cops around here are never around when I’m late.  The wind has picked up and has blown some of the table decorations down.  My maid of honor isn’t here yet and I wonder to myself is this when the dream ends. I wake up in a moment of Broken dreams that are scattered by the wind to the four corners of the world.  Then people start showing up and wondering why I’m not dressed yet.  Neither is my Groom.  He is in his world cleaning this and checking that.   Not a worry in the world.  That is him, Mr. Laid back because it all comes together in the end.  He stabilizes me and I breath and it is good.  My maid of honor pulls in and now it is time to get dressed.

  We wiggle into dresses with a non stop chatter of everything missed since the last time we spoke.  Love and excitement spike the air around of as we describe are betrothed as make up is perfectly applied to our faces.  A cousin comes in to the room with photographer in tow and begins to help me with my gloves while threatening him not to take any pictures of her.  He doesn’t listen well and captures all the activity in the room.  My cousin states the people are hungry and when is things going to start moving along.  I’m ready, the flower girl is here looking extra adorable and the ring bearer is in the living room practicing holding the pillows with the rings on them.  Ahh the husband to be is in the trenches cooking and not getting ready.  Calming his nerves with work I’m sure. The door opens and closes, the bathroom door bangs shut and the sound of running water.  There he is and I have his clothes in the bedroom with me.  The room breaks out in laughter and with eyes closed  someone puts his clothes in there with him on the dressing table.  Life will be good.

  A few minutes later the water has stopped and he is dressing while walking out the door.  Only a man can get away with that. My posse regroups in the kitchen and we hear the change in music.  The kitchen door swings open and I walk through I see the God son to my maid of honor and his date.  Their eyes went wide with happy little lights dancing in them. I almost started to cry but then I heard someone say beautiful and my back went straight. Then I smiled instead feeling better then any other time in my life.  The camera’s went wild while people murmured and gasped at my crew and myself.  I knew my best girl was in pain as she struggled to walk and stand still for pictures but her smile was genuine and she glowed in the May sunshine. I thanked God for her presence and prayed for some relief.

  The sacred circle was ready and blessed the smoke blew in circles through the air and it had a sweet smell to it.  I watched as my soon to be son finished preparing the fire and tobacco for all the people that needed to offer it as they prayed for us.   I stood still and watched all the friends and family that would soon be mine offer their prayers for a long, healthy and strong marriage for us.  My heart filled with joy then sadness when I realized my family wasn’t present.  The man chosen to give me away if my real father did not show wasn’t there either.  Breathing deep and trying to maintain my calm.  Deciding to break another rule and give myself away.  Then I hear the spiritualist preacher  ask who was going to give me away. Trying to be strong I answer me and stare at him eye to eye.  He responds, this is the one rule you can not break.

My mind reeled in fifty different directions and my heart pounded in my ears.  This was it! My day would be ruined and it was my fault.  The tears started to build behind the eye sockets when I heard a squeaky voice whisper out.  The man in the blue shirt.  Was that my voice I wondered as I searched the faces on all those people I didn’t know and the few I had just recently met. I locked eyes with the youngest son of the man I so desperately wanted to marry.  He stared back with determination and mouthed the word, Who? A deep breath and out came the name of a co-worker.  I guess you could say he is like a brother, we had times of laughter, crying, and anger. There was always respect and always forgiveness.  Maybe even love in a family kinda way.

  The look on his face was priceless as his eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open.  His face turned four shades of red when everyone started clapping for him and he took his place next to my side.  I looked at my soon to be husband and we both smiled.  The calm flooding into my soul would be instilled there permanently from this day forward.

The rest was a blur.  We inhaled the sacred smoke that cleansed our hearts and soul.  We received blessings from the great provider.  We both got palm pricks and hands tied together making our blood mingle and binding us together forever as one.  We where introduced to the world as husband and wife then I was welcomed in to my new family.

This day, our day was beautiful. The skies where blue and the breeze kept the heat down until night.  A sprinkle of rain here and there are generations past with kisses and blessing to bestow.  We all met new people and mingled, laughed and had a great time.  The fake flowers and butterflies attracted real butterflies well in to the next day.  My dreams have come true and may the fairytales never end.

  The Big Day My final countdown began 2 weeks before the big day and all the crazy was coming to a head.