#why did i get a van that big? gay sex. next question.

[bitchfitch]

While visiting family for the holidays I've come to notice something.

So y'all know how there's a pretty Massive issue happening primarily with trucks and SUVs right now? Theyre being made taller and taller without the geometry really changing to make sure you can still see out in front of the vehicle. and that has lead to a misidentification of what the problem actually like, is.

I drive an old van. a retired ambulance to be precise. She was built before this obsession with Bigger vehicles really hit the market, and before van manufacturers were considering the vanping market when making their products. She can't fit under some bridges and I need a step stool to get into the driver's seat bc i am a tiny cripple and did not take that into account when I bought her. she's a fucking Big vehicle. i love her dearly, she's florescent.

Despite being fucking Massive do you want to know something funny about her front end blind spot? Its microscopic. It's smaller than the blind spot on my cousins sporty little 2 door. because this is a Fuck off massive vehicle, that was still designed to be Practical. the front end slopes so that her nose is a little shorter than a standard mom mini SUV. With her seat being Way fucking high up, it makes it so you can see basically everything directly in front of her at all times while sitting comfortably.

Which like, is to say: My van is fucking cool, and also that you don't need to limit over all vehicle size to fix the blind spot issue, just the height of the nose. in relation to the angle the driver is viewing their front end by. bc like, my cousins sporty little 2 door, shouldn't have a front end blind spot almost as bad as a lifted f 150 trucks.

[chicgeekgirl89]

The House in the Pines Where the Road Ends

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Andrea Reyes, Gabriel Reyes, The Reyes Family

Rating: K

Summary: Four sisters. Nine nieces and nephews. Dozens of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Carlos has a big, loud, over-the-top family, and T.K. is about to meet all of them at the annual Reyes Family Barbecue. It's a day that promises food, fun, and lots of nosy questions. All T.K. wants is to make a good impression and all Carlos wants is for his family not to scare off his boyfriend. When a stray baseball ruins the fun, both T.K. and Carlos will discover that neither of them ever needed to worry.

A/N: I am so happy to FINALLY introduce you to my version of the Reyes family. They have become a character all their own and I love them very dearly. Get ready to see and hear more about them in upcoming fics! I cannot say enough thank you's to @bluenet13​ who has read this fic approximately a billion times in all its different stages, has beta'ed the heck out of it, and still wants to be friends with me.

For the @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt: Sports Injury

Read on Ao3

“Wait, but are you sure this shirt is okay?” T.K. asked, twisting around in front of the mirror to look at it from every possible angle.

“Do you really think my family is going to decide whether or not they like you based on your shirt?” Carlos asked with a laugh.

“It’s their first impression of me,” T.K. said, fussing with the hemline, trying to get it to lay exactly right. “I just want it to be good.”

Carlos came up behind him, wrapping his arms around T.K.’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “They are going to love you.” He pressed a kiss to T.K.’s cheek.

T.K. turned in his arms so they were face to face, anxiety trickling through his veins. “I love you,” he said.

“I know,” Carlos told him. “I love you too.”

“Your family is important to you and I guess I can’t help feeling like…there’s a chance that if they don’t like me…”

“T.K…” Carlos sent him a look of fond exasperation.

“I know!” T.K. said quickly. “I know it’s ridiculous. But if they don’t like me, I don’t know where we go next.”

“I don’t think we need to borrow trouble like that,” Carlos said. “You already know my parents love you. And so do Elena and Elías.”

They’d had dinner at Carlos’ second eldest sister’s home a few weeks back. It had been fun to meet her and her husband along with their daughter, Carolina, and twins, Marco and Diego. Marco was rambunctious and spunky while Diego was more mild mannered and T.K. had enjoyed watching Carlos chase them around the backyard, playing baseball, tag, and wrestling.

But meeting one sister and her family was completely different from attending the annual Reyes Family Barbecue where there would be hundreds of aunts, uncles, and cousins to try and remember.

“Trust me,” Carlos said. “Elena will have spread the word and you’ll already have pre-approval before we even get there.”

“What if I call someone the wrong name?” T.K. asked. “I still think you should have written up a family tree like I asked you to.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “There’s no point. We’re adding to it like every day there are so many of us. You’ll never be able to remember. If you’re not sure just call them Gabriel or Valentina. There’s a forty percent chance you’ll be right.”

“This isn’t fair,” T.K. said, burying his face in Carlos’ shirt. “I have like, four family members. The playing field is so uneven I don’t even have a chance.”

Carlos kissed his forehead. “Just relax and enjoy the food. That’s all anyone expects of you.”

“I seriously doubt that,” T.K. grumbled.

“Listen, if anybody should be concerned in this situation, it’s me,” Carlos said.

“You?” T.K. raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“You just said, you come from a small family. My family is big and loud and all up in each other’s business. Francesca alone might be enough to make you run all the way back to New York.”

Carlos had talked before about his wild child fourth sister, Francesca. Apparently she was a force to be reckoned with and had caused quite a bit of trouble as a kid. According to Carlos every time he’d gotten in trouble, it had actually been Francesca’s fault. Well Francesca and Adriana, Carlos’ cousin who was more like a fifth sister. She and Francesca had been born within weeks of each other and been an inseparable duo ever since.

“New York is a pretty long way to run,” T.K. said. “And I’ve gotten kind of used to sleeping with you. I don’t really want to have to break in a new mattress. Oh, and for all I know you’ve gotten kind used to having my exercise bike in your dining room and I would have to buy a new one of those, plus moving costs are out of sight and I am on a civil servant’s salary here.”

Carlos kissed him again. “Come on. We’re already late and if we don’t get there soon then I will be in trouble.”

T.K. had already visited the Reyes family ranch a handful of times, but he had never seen it quite like this. Cars lined every inch of the drive up to the house, from pick-up trucks to mini-vans and everything in between. “Is this a family barbecue or a Lady Gaga concert?” T.K. asked as they got out of the car.

Carlos laughed and reached for his hand. “I told you.”

“Yeah I hoped maybe you were exaggerating a little bit,” T.K. said as they walked toward the driveway. As if he hadn’t been nervous already, now he felt overwhelmed. He was generally charming and good with people, but this was…a lot.

Carlos tensed. “Come this way,” he said, voice low as he tugged T.K. more to the side of the driveway, where a row of cars hid them from view of the house.

“What are we doing?” T.K. asked in confusion.

“We’re—”

“Carlitos don’t you even try! We see you over there!” a feminine voice called.

Carlos winced and looked at T.K. “I’m just going to say ahead of time that I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Two women came around the line of cars, each of them holding a drink. “You weren’t trying to hide from us were you?” the taller of the two asked.

“No I was just trying to get T.K. inside without the third degree first,” Carlos said, giving each of them a pointed look.

“Carlitos we’re not going to give him the third degree,” the second woman said, her many earrings flashing in the sunlight. “We’re just going to try and prepare him for what he’s about to face.”

“You don’t need to prepare him,” Carlos said with a sigh of long suffering. “There’s nothing to prepare for.”

“Oh my god Carlos, you cannot just drag him in here without some proper preparation,” the first woman said, turning to look at T.K. “So, you’re the firefighter stripper, huh?”

T.K.’s eyes went wide and he looked to Carlos who had closed his eyes and was shaking his head. “For the last time, he’s a paramedic now and he has never been a stripper.” He opened his eyes and took a breath in a clear attempt to calm himself down. “T.K. I would like you to meet my sister Francesca.”

“His youngest older sister,” Francesca clarified looking T.K. up and down. “You’re hot enough to be a stripper.”

“And my cousin Adriana,” Carlos said loudly in an attempt to stop his sister’s comments. 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” T.K. said with a smile, hoping to diffuse some of the awkwardness. “Carlos has told me a lot about you.”

“Is it about how we were always getting him in trouble when he was a kid? Because that’s a lie,” Adriana said. 

“Total lie,” Francesca echoed. “So, how has it been, living in sin with my brother?”

“Oh my god Francesca can you just let us get through the door first?” Carlos cried.

She shook her head and grinned. “Nope. This is way more fun. Besides, Adriana got to know about him first, so I wanted to meet him before everyone else.”

“Did Carlos tell you not to tell Tía Maria you’re living together?” Adriana asked.

“Um, no, he didn’t mention that,” T.K. said, looking once again to his boyfriend.

“I didn’t really think it was necessary,” Carlos said.

“Tía Maria has strong religious opinions,” Francesca said.

“Oh is she not…” T.K. began to pull his hand from Carlos’ but his boyfriend held on firmly.

“Tía Maria is fine with the gay, she’s just not all right with fornication,” Adriana said with a grin, eyeing T.K. for his reaction.

“Oh my god, forget it, we’re going home,” Carlos said, trying to turn around, but Francesca grabbed his other arm.

“Nuh uh hermano,” she said sweetly. “Mom and Dad are expecting you. I already texted them and told them you’re here.”

“Wait hold on, I’m confused,” T.K. said, feeling slightly panicked as the conversation moved so quickly around him. “What do I need to know about Tía Maria?”

“Tía Maria is very against pre-marital sex,” Francesca said.

“In her mind we’re all pure, sweet, innocent little virgins, waiting to give up our virtue to our husbands on our wedding nights,” Adriana said, her face suggesting that she’d rather throw up than submit to that particular lifestyle. “Little does she know that ship has sailed.”

“Under the bleachers with Jake Thompson in the eleventh grade,” Francesca said.

“In Mike Kowalski’s backseat…”

“After prom with Sebastian Chavez…”

“Okay that’s enough of the sexcapades thank you,” Carlos said, looking disgusted.

“You didn’t think I needed to know this?” T.K. said looking at Carlos.

“I am not ashamed of us living together,” Carlos told him. “I don’t care if Tía Maria knows.”

“Ugh barf,” Francesca said. “God I wanted to be mad at you for caving and leaving us all alone at the singles table but you’re so grossly in love I don’t even want you there anymore.”

“Can we go in now?” Carlos asked. “Is this little interrogation over with?”

“Oh you can go in, but it’s far from over,” Adriana said, wrenching T.K.’s arm away from Carlos and tucking it into her own as she walked him toward the house. “So, T.K. What can we get you to drink? Beer? Margarita? Or are you a wine snob? You look like you could be a wine snob.”

“He’s from New York, they’re all wine snobs there,” Francesca said.

“T.K. doesn’t drink,” Carlos called from behind him. “You already know that.”

Adriana nodded. “Just checking. That’s cool. I did the sober thing for like six months once. My skin was so great.”

“Okay, I’m taking T.K. inside now,” Carlos said, rescuing his arm from Adriana’s grip. “You two can go back to wherever it is you came from. I’m going to guess…the gates of hell?”

“So rude Carlos,” Francesca said with a roll of her eyes.

“Come on Cesca, I need another margarita,” Adriana said, pulling her toward the back of the house.

“But I have more questions!”

“Questions later! Margarita now!”

They disappeared around the side of the house, leaving Carlos looking embarrassed and T.K. feeling like he’d just been through a whirlwind. “You can literally ignore everything about them,” Carlos said as he opened the door. “Just pretend they don’t exist. That’s what the rest of us do when they get like this.”

T.K. had a feeling neither Francesca nor Adriana liked to be ignored, but Andrea greeted them immediately as they walked inside, leaving him no opportunity for further questions or conversation. “T.K.! Carlitos! Welcome!”

There were a few other people milling around inside, but it seemed like most of the family was in the backyard. T.K. could hear music playing and the smell of barbecue wafted through the glass slider doors that led to the oversized back patio.

“Sorry we’re late Mama,” Carlos said, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s my fault,” T.K. said. “I had a shift and it ran over.”

“No apologies necessary,” Andrea said, waving a hand. “I understand the important work you boys do. I’m just sorry your dad couldn’t make it T.K.”

“He said to tell you hello and that he will be here for sure next time,” T.K. told her with a smile.

It had been a huge relief to find out that the party was scheduled while his dad was on shift. The last thing he needed was one more thing to give him anxiety about meeting Carlos’ family.

Andrea caught his face in both hands. “We are so glad you’re here T.K.” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “Now, let’s get you something to drink. I’ve got lots of that fancy water you like.”

The back slider opened as Andrea pulled a water from the refrigerator for T.K. “Boys! Bienvenidos!” Gabriel boomed as he stepped inside, bringing the scent of barbecue with him.

“Gabriel close that door before the air conditioning gets out,” Andrea scolded.

“Of course mi amor,” he said. “I was just looking for another set of tongs. Daniel is going to help with the second grill.”

“They’re in the pantry,” Andrea said. “Where they always are.”

Gabriel paused to kiss her on the cheek. “What would I do without you?”

“Starve?” Carlos suggested with a cheeky smile as he grabbed a grape off the counter and popped it in his mouth.

Gabriel snorted. “Probably.”

“All right now you two, head on outside and join the party,” Andrea said. “You don’t want to be stuck in here with me.”

“Are you sure?’ Carlos asked. “We can stay and help.”

“No, no,” Andrea said quickly. “Gloria will be back in a minute. Go! Enjoy! Introduce T.K. to the family.” She lowered her voice. “But don’t tell Tía Maria that you live together. You know how she gets and I do not need another lecture on how I raised my children with loose morals.”

“Yes, for everyone’s sanity, please keep that to yourselves,” Gabriel said, reappearing with the tongs in hand. “No need for my sister to know that you are breaking the commandments.”

T.K. turned and looked at his boyfriend. “Everyone seems very concerned about this.”

Carlos shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Everyone is overreacting. Tía Maria isn’t that scary.” He kissed T.K. on the side of his head and grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. Besides, there are so many people here, we might not even see Tía Maria.”

They stepped out the door into the backyard. To the left was a play set that dozens of children were taking advantage of. To the right were several grills, all smoking away, the tables next to them already piled high with food and drink. And underneath sprawling oak trees dozens of picnic tables and lawn chairs had been set up, all of them full of people talking, laughing, and eating together. 

“I knew you should have made that family tree for me,” T.K. said, starting to feel really nervous now as he saw exactly how many people had scattered across the backyard.

They made it about four feet before they were accosted by well meaning relatives. Cousins, aunts, uncles, everyone seemed to want to meet Carlos’ new boyfriend. T.K. smiled and nodded and tried in vain to remember everyone’s names. Carlos hadn’t been exaggerating, there were a lot of Gabriels and Valentinas.

“Ay, okay, leave the boys alone,” a woman finally said, interrupting the melée. She sported a longer version of Carlos’ curls and T.K. remembered her face from some of the family photos. “Shame on all of you, they haven’t even eaten anything.”

She turned a warm smile on them as the crowd dispersed and went back to their merriment. “Hola T.K. I’m Teresa.”

Carlos’ oldest sister. She and her husband Javier lived in San Diego with their four kids, Valentina, Eva, Gabriel, and Bianca. Their visit to town was the reason the barbecue had been scheduled for this particular weekend. 

“Nice to meet you,” T.K. said, immediately feeling the same warmth and comfort radiate from her that he did from Carlos. 

She turned and pulled her brother in for a hug, whispering something in his ear that made him laugh. “Come on. You can sit with us. I’ll fend off the nosy relatives,” she told them.

“Thank you,” Carlos said in relief. “I didn’t think it would be quite this bad.”

“You never do,” she said with a smile as she led them to the picnic table where her husband Javier was sitting with another couple that T.K. thought he recognized. 

“T.K. this is my husband Javier. And have you met Lucía and Justin yet?” Teresa asked.

Ah, Lucía. Carlos’ third oldest sister. She and Justin lived with their kids in McKinney and had driven up for the weekend. They had been set to attend the dinner with Elena and Elías but one of the boys had ended up in a soccer championship so they’d had to cancel. 

“So T.K. I hear you’re from New York? Nice to have another East Coaster join the party,” Justin said.

“Oh yeah, Carlos said you’re from Philly right?” T.K. asked.

“Born and bred,” Justin raised an eyebrow. “You don’t cheer for the Giants do you?”

T.K. smiled. “I’m more of a Mets fan actually. Football’s not really my thing.”

“Well that means I don’t have to hate you, but don’t say that too loud in Texas. Football is life here,” Justin told him.

“So I’ve noticed,” T.K. replied.

“Tío Carlos!” a gaggle of kids ran up to the table all of them clamoring for Carlos. 

“Tío Carlos I got on my soccer team at school!”

“Can you come play baseball!”

“Did you know my tooth is falling out?”

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Everyone talked at once and Carlos seemed to take it in stride, giving hugs and ruffling hair, looking at loose teeth, and promising to come and play in a minute.

“Hey, all of you, adiós,” Elena said. “Leave Tío Carlos alone. He’ll play with you later.”

It took a few more admonishments from their parents, but eventually the children dispersed to different corners of the ranch. “We’re doing you a favor T.K.,” Lucía told him, rocking baby Nicolás back and forth. “Once Carlos goes with the children he doesn’t come back.”

“He’s their favorite uncle,” Justin explained.

“And for good reason,” Javier added. “His knees are young and spry.”

“You guys are exaggerating. The kids love everybody,” Carlos said with a roll of his eyes.

Teresa shook her head. “It’s okay to admit that you’re their favorite Carlos. You’ve earned the honor.” She looked at T.K. “Carlos is too modest.”

“So I’ve noticed,” T.K. said fondly and he could see Carlos blush a little bit.

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Carlos said. “We’ve been here half an hour and no one has offered me any food. What has happened to this family?”

The situation was fixed immediately and T.K. found himself with more food than one person could possibly hope to consume, sitting and listening to the Reyes siblings recount stories from their childhood.

T.K. felt the bench next to him shift and turned to find Francesca and Adriana joining them.

“Did Carlos tell you about the time he ran away from home?” Teresa asked.

Carlos groaned. “No, do we have to tell this story every time?”

“Yes, because it’s hilarious,” Elena said. “He was what, about six at the time?”

“I was sixteen so yes,” Teresa said. “Carlitos was mad because all of us sisters got to go to a movie and he didn’t. So he wrote a note saying he was running away and never coming back.”

“And then he disappeared for seven hours,” Lucía chimed in. “Mom was beside herself. They checked the entire house, called all his friends, she was sure he’d been eaten by a coyote.”

“Well I was the one who found him,” Teresa said with a smile. “Up in that tree,” she pointed several feet to the left, “crying because he’d climbed up too high and couldn’t get down.”

“We had to call the fire department to come and get him,” Francesca said with a smirk.

“And when they got him down, did he get in trouble?” Elena asked. “Nope. Because Mama was all—“

“My baby!” all four women chorused together. 

“Carlitos never gets in trouble,” Adriana said. “Ever. All he has to do is bat his eyelashes at Tía Andrea and she starts talking about how innocent and sweet he is and how he could never start a fight or break a window…”

Carlos had put a hand to his forehead and looked like he was in physical pain. “Are you done now?” he asked.

“No way,” Lucía piped up. “We still have to tell T.K. about the time you drove the tractor into the pond.”

“The pedal was stuck!” Carlos cried.

“That’s what he says every time,” Francesca told T.K. “It’s a lie.”

Carlos burst forth in a tirade of Spanish, likely exonerating himself from the tractor-pond fiasco and all of the women immediately began to contradict him. T.K. wasn’t sure whether to smile or intervene as they all talked over each other. His high school level Spanish could only pick up the occasional word. 

“This happens every time,” Elías said. “They’ll calm down in a minute.”

“A minute?” Javier said. “Forget a minute. We can all leave, they’ll be at it for at least half an hour now.”

Things really came to a head when Francesca stood, slammed her hands against the table, and shouted, “I did not put that goat in Lucí’s bed, that was Elena!”

“I watched you do it!” Carlos yelled back.

“Well then your brain is broken because that is not what happened!” Francesca said, pointing a finger at him.

The argument was broken up by the arrival of Andrea, followed closely by another woman T.K. didn’t recognize. “Girls! Ya basta! Qué esta pasando? Arguing in front of our guests, what is wrong with you?” she said, setting a large plate of taquitos in front of them.

“Disculpa Mama,” they all muttered, but T.K. caught Francesca giving Carlos the finger under the table and then she jumped a second later when he pinched her leg.

“Honestly,” she scoffed at them. “I am ashamed of all of you. T.K. I apologize on behalf of my daughters. I did not raise them to be like this.”

“See?” Lucía said with a roll of her eyes. “We’re all in trouble, but Carlitos is completely innocent.”

“Of course he’s innocent, he would never argue in front of guests,” Andrea said. “Did you all say hello to Tía Maria?”

“Hola Tía,” they all chorused.

“And Maria, this is T.K., Carlos’ boyfriend,” Andrea said with a smile.

T.K. felt himself stiffen under the intense gaze of Carlos’ infamous aunt. But he smiled and waved a hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she said. She turned and looked at Teresa and Javier. “Cuándo será la primera comunión de Marco y Diego?"

T.K. caught a glimpse of Francesca who smiled at him and raised her eyebrows in an “I told you so” kind of way. 

“Later this summer,” Elena said smoothly. “We will send you an invitation of course.”

“They are a bit behind, no? Why the delay in this important milestone?”

“Tía, with Covid and everything it all just got pushed back. Don’t worry,” Elena told her.

“You’d better get a move on,” Adriana said. “We wouldn’t want them to miss out on all the blessings of the Lord.”

Tía Maria’s eyes narrowed as she picked up on Adriana’s sarcasm. “Is there something wrong with wanting my nephews to grow up properly in the church?”

“Of course not,” Andrea said quickly. “And they are Maria. Very good, pious little boys.”

T.K. saw the mischievous glint in Francesca’s eye as she opened her mouth. “So T.K., you live with your dad?” 

Everyone at the table froze and turned to look daggers in her direction. “Ah Maria! The watermelon! We forgot it inside, come on,” Andrea said quickly, glaring at her daughter over her shoulder as she ushered Maria away.

“Cesca!” Teresa chastised as soon as they were out of earshot.

“I was just trying to take the pressure off of Elena,” Francesca said innocently, taking a sip of her mojito.

“You were trying to stir up trouble,” Lucía said as the baby began to fuss. 

“Well someone has to keep things fun around here!”

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” Marco and Diego ran toward them, kicking up dirt as they skidded to a stop by the table and interrupted the conversation. 

“Mom can I have another cookie?” Marco asked.

“I want a drink but Carolina said I can’t have a soda, but can I?” Diego asked.

“And Tía Teresa, Gabriel wants to know, can he get his Switch out of the car now, because he said you said he could get it later and now it’s later,” Marco spoke up on behalf of his cousin.

“Okay, hold on, everybody take a breath,” Teresa said.

The group momentarily broke up as everyone went to tend to their children’s needs and make sure they had eaten something besides cookies and chips. 

“So, are you ready to run back to New York yet?” Carlos asked when they were the only two left at the table.

“I think I’m holding my own all right,” T.K. said. “You were right about Francesca though. She’s…something.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not that actually was her being on her better behavior. I swear you’d never know she was working on a masters in biochemistry.”

“She’s fun,” T.K. said. “And she and Adriana clearly have the most dirt on Carlitos.”

“Maybe we should leave now,” Carlos said with a groan. “They’ll keep at it as long as you’ll listen.”

“I like it,” T.K. said, taking a sip of his mineral water. “It’s fun seeing you like this. Baby brother Carlos is a whole new side of you.”

Carlos blushed a little bit. “The way they’d talk you’d think we were all still kids.”

“It’s sweet. They adore you.”

“I—”

Carlos was interrupted by Valentina, Teresa and Javier’s youngest, who came running over, crying so hard she was hiccuping instead of breathing. “Tío Carlos!”

“Valentina, qué pasó?” Carlos asked worriedly, gathering her into his arms and sitting her on his lap.

“Marco me dijo que no podía jugar pelota con él,” she sobbed, her little heart so clearly broken over her cousin’s refusal to let her play ball with him.

"Lo siento, Valen. That's not very nice." Carlos hugged her close and kissed her hair. "Pero no le hagas caso. What if we get you a cookie, will that help?”

She shook her head, lip stuck out in an adorable pout, fresh tears threatening to spill over.

“Two cookies?”

She held up three little fingers and Carlos opened his eyes wide in mock surprise. “Tres?! Ay Dios mío.” He shook his head. “Come with me, pero no le digas a mamá.”

He slid Valentina off his lap and offered her his hand, which she grabbed onto eagerly. He looked at T.K. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” T.K. said, watching them walk over to one of the tables. 

Carlos pointed to several different options, Valentina shaking her head at each one until he found the kind of cookie she liked best.

T.K. felt a presence next to him and turned to find Francesca had returned. She had a strange look on her face. “You know he’s never brought anyone home before. Not like this.”

T.K.’s breath caught in his chest. “I didn’t know that.”

“He’s happy,” Francesca said. “Happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.” She turned and looked at him. “You make him happy.”

“I do my best,” T.K. said. “He makes me happy too.”

“Yeah.” She looked at her brother again, adding some fruit to Valentina’s plate. “He wants kids. You know that right?”

“I do,” T.K. said. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re good with that?”

T.K. looked at his boyfriend who was tenderly wiping the last of the tears from Valentina’s cheeks. They had talked about it of course. A few times. In passing. He knew where Carlos stood. And he knew that he wasn’t sure what kind of dad he would be, but also that he would do anything to make Carlos happy; including facing his own fears about being a father. “He’ll be a great dad,” was his answer.

She squinted at him, then squared her shoulders. “I’m only going to say this once and if you ever tell anyone I will deny it and shove your balls so far up your ass you won’t know how to get them out again. Carlos is special. And I know you’re all city boy, New York, squeaky clean, firefighter paramedic, or whatever.”

“But if I hurt him you’ll kill me?” T.K. asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No,” she looked at him like he was crazy. “Teresa will. She’s like his second mom. She’ll take you down so fast you’ll never even see it coming.”

T.K. laughed. “I have no intention of ever breaking his heart. I promise.”

“Good,” she said. “That’s good.” She cocked her head the way Carlos did when he was about to say something he knew was funny. “You’re pretty great for a stripper.”

“Okay, one more time. Not that there is anything wrong with sex work, but I have never been, and have no intention of being, a stripper,” T.K. said firmly.

“That’s what they all say!” she tossed over her shoulder as she got to her feet and flounced away to find Adriana. 

“What was my sister telling you?” Carlos asked as he returned, Valentina now seated happily with some other cousins at a kid sized picnic table. “Oh god, was she talking about the time I got arrested for skinny dipping in the lake because there is so much more to that story than the way she tells it.”

“No,” T.K. said, raising his eyebrows, “but now I want to hear the rest of that. No she was just…being a good big sister. You’re lucky to have so many people watching out for you.”

Carlos softened, his hand seeking T.K.’s. “And now I have you too.”

T.K. squeezed gently. “Yes, you do.”

                                       XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

All in all the day was going well. T.K. had handled every nosy question, every argument, every weird thing his sisters or relatives did with his usual charm and self-confidence. He fit in. 

All Carlos had really wanted was for T.K. to like his family, but seeing them like him right back…it was doing strange things to his heart. He hadn’t known until this moment how much it meant to gain his family’s approval of his relationship. He’d convinced himself that he was fine either way, and he probably would have been. But seeing them all joke and talk and laugh together was beyond his wildest dreams. And it was making him think some pretty crazy things about the future.

They’d chatted some more with his siblings and a few other family members who’d stopped by the table. But now Lucía had gone to put the baby down for a nap, and Teresa and Elena had been pressed into kitchen duty with his mother, while the men of the group had been enticed inside by a game on TV. Which left only Adriana and Francesca at the table. 

“So, T.K., now that the boring adults are gone, tell us everything,” Francesca said, a sneaky smile on her face.

“Ooh yes,” Adriana said, getting comfortable on the picnic bench. “Tell us all your dirty secrets T.K. You lived in New York so do you actually work for the mob? And how hard was it for you to learn to put gas in a car at such an advanced age?”

“Unfortunately no mob connections, although that probably pays better than firefighting or being a paramedic,” T.K. said with a laugh. “And the learning curve on driving was actually pretty quick. We have to fuel the engines, even in New York.”

“Well that’s boring,” Francesca said as she picked up a tamale. “Come on, you have to be more exciting than that. Any secret lovers you’re keeping back there on the side?”

“Cesca!” Carlos said sharply.

“I’m watching out for you!” Francesca cried. “I mean if you two have an open relationship or something that’s your business, but if he—”

“No,” T.K. said quickly. He looked at Carlos. “There’s no one in New York. Or anywhere else.”

Adriana and Francesca both wrinkled their noses, but Carlos hardly noticed, too busy looking at T.K. who was gazing at him with so much tenderness and love. He was taking it all in stride, the insanity, the prying. Questions that might have set him off a year or two ago he now brushed off like it was no big deal.

“Ugh, come on!” Adriana said. “There has to be something. You basically grew up on the set of Gossip Girl. You have to know at least one Kardashian or something.”

“Yes, how many private helicopter rides have there been?” Francesca asked eagerly. “Or penthouse ragers? You have to have been to a penthouse rager of someone famous!”

T.K. shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Adriana pouted. “So boring. Not one secret?”

“Oh, I have secrets,” T.K. said with a grin. He laced his hand through Carlos’. “But only Carlos gets to know them.”

“You play dirty, Strand,” Francesca told him with an approving smile. 

Carlos had had enough. “Come on,” he said, pulling T.K. to his feet and away from the women without a backward glance or apology. 

“Where are we going?” T.K. asked and Carlos wished the answer was a dark corner somewhere that he could kiss his boyfriend’s face off and show him how much he appreciated his efforts today. But that would not be happening anywhere on the premises. Francesca and Adriana could sniff out a couple having a quickie from a mile away. They’d caught Teresa and Javier in a Sunday School classroom during Elena and Elías’ wedding and had never let them forget it. Although Bianca had been born nine months later so apparently getting caught hadn’t been too much of a turn off. He definitely wasn’t risking it though. 

He pulled T.K. over to the patio where the music had cranked up to an all time high now that his cousin Rafael had arrived and was playing DJ.

“Okay,” T.K. said, looking nervous all over again. “You know I can’t really dance right? That first night at the bar, that was all just to get in your pants, you know that right?”

“What?” Carlos feigned surprise and then rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know. And considering that you managed to get into my pants about half an hour later, I’d say it worked pretty well.”

“Not the point Carlos.”

“I’ve seen you dance. You’re fine,” Carlos told him.

“Yes in the club!” T.K. told him, eyes wide as he took in the way some of Carlos’ relatives were dancing around them. “This is like something out of Grease! Did you all rehearse this before you got here?”

“Look, Justin’s dancing.” Carlos nodded to where Lucí had managed to get a moment free from her children and pulled her husband onto the impromptu dance floor. 

“Justin’s been in your family for five years. He’s had practice.”

“You’re just going to follow my lead,” Carlos told him confidently as he pulled T.K. close. “Relax.”

“I can’t relax. Your Tía Maria looks like she’s about to come over here and remind us to leave room for the Holy Spirit,” T.K. hissed.

“Like I said earlier, I don’t care what Tía Maria thinks. I haven’t for a long time. I just want to dance with you.” He cocked his head and turned on his most charming smile, eyes pleading a little bit.

T.K. rolled his eyes and groaned. “You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“Exactly,” Carlos allowed himself a full on smirk.

He put one hand on T.K.’s shoulder, the other on his hip and gave a comforting little squeeze. “And now you just follow my lead.”

He took a half a step forward, slowly, not following the music at all, encouraging T.K. to step back with his opposite foot. They managed fine for about three beats until T.K. stepped wrong and they stumbled over one another’s feet. “Sorry,” he said, face going slightly pink. “I told you.”

“You’re tense,” Carlos said. “You can’t dance when you’re tense. Relax. It’s all in the hips.”

“I’m from New York. I barely have hips at all, let alone beautiful, sexy, latin caderas like yours.”

Carlos laughed and bumped up against T.K. with said caderas. “You like my caderas?”

“You know I love your hips and normally I wouldn’t complain about anything you do with them, but everyone is staring at us.”

“They are not.” Carlos took a quick glance around the area and found that indeed, many of his relatives were staring, and he could read wedding bells going off in their eyes. “Okay they are but that’s because they’re nosy, not because of your dancing. Don’t worry about them. Focus on me.”

“Just don’t blame me if I break your toes,” T.K. said nervously.

“I think I’ll survive,” Carlos told him. “I’ve never seen you like this before. I like it.”

“Like what?”

“Completely off your game,” Carlos told him. “You never approach anything with less than one hundred percent confidence and charm.”

“Well I only do things I’m one hundred percent confident in,” T.K. said. “That way I never have to look like I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ahhh, now it all makes sense,” Carlos said with a laugh.

The music changed and Carlos shifted so that they were closer together, one hand entwined with T.K.’s, the other on his lower back. “So. Tell me the truth. How glad are you that your dad didn’t come today?”

T.K. laughed. “Oh god so glad. You know how he is. He and your sisters would have spent the entire day trying to one up each other on embarrassing stories about us. And he might have won.”

“Oh I doubt that. We’ve got about two more hours until my sisters bring up the bathtub incident.”

T.K.’s eyes widened. “The bathtub incident?”

“Let’s just say it was very expensive and mostly Francesca’s fault.”

“You know, your sisters seem to take a lot of the blame in these stories even though you have a starring role in all of them. I’m starting to wonder who’s really telling the truth here.”

“Shh,” Carlos said, pulling him a little closer. “I’m a cop. I’m very trustworthy.”

“Uh huh.” T.K. looked amused.

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

Carlos leaned forward so his lips were touching T.K.’s ear. “You’re dancing.”

And indeed he was, their bodies swaying back and forth, T.K. following all of Carlos’ movements without any trouble. T.K. opened his mouth to respond but he was interrupted by the reappearance of Adriana. “I take it back,” she said, causing them both to pause their movement.

“Take what back?” Carlos asked in confusion.

“There’s no way he’s a stripper. Not with dance moves like that. Yikes.”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or insulted,” T.K. said.

“Good,” she said, giving him a mischievous wink. “I like to keep people guessing. Now step aside gringo and let us show you how it’s done.”

She grabbed Carlos’ hand and before he could protest she’d pulled him out to the center of the dance floor, yelling at Rafael to put on something they could really move to. Rafael smoothly transitioned into a song Carlos recognized and Adriana grinned as she began to salsa, clearly expecting him to partner her. He rolled his eyes, but obliged, catching her around the waist and moving back and forth in time with her.

“We approve,” she said as he spun her back and forth.

“Of my dancing?” Carlos asked.

“No, of T.K.,” she said with a smile. “We really like him. Me and all your sisters.”

It should not have warmed his soul so much to hear the words, but it did anyway. “Good,” Carlos said. “Is that why you pulled me out here? To tell me you like him?”

“No, I pulled you out here so he could check out your ass while you dance,” she said, looking over his shoulder, her grin widening. “Which he totally is by the way.”

“Adriana, shut up,” Carlos said, but he smiled anyway and dipped her, really letting loose as the music hit the chorus. Because apparently he was not above showing off for his boyfriend.

By the time the song ended he was sweating and breathless and so was Adriana. “You’ve still got it cousin,” she said. “Now go on. Go over there and take a victory lap with your boyfriend and his puppy dog eyes.”

Carlos looked over to find T.K. looking suitably impressed at the edge of the patio. Carlos shook his head, a blush rising to his cheeks as he walked over. “Well someone’s been holding out on me,” T.K. said when Carlos got close.

“It’s just dancing,” Carlos said.

“Just dancing? Carlos that looked like…I don’t even know, but it was freaking amazing!” T.K. said, his eyes wide. “I didn’t know you could dance like that. Why are you over here dancing with me?”

Carlos rolled his eyes and pulled T.K. close to him. “Trust me, Adriana might be a state champion in Salsa, but I prefer dancing with you any day.”

“She’s a state champion?” T.K. asked in surprise.

“Yep,” Carlos said, pulling him back onto the dance floor. “Three years in a row.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, Adriana is good at pretty much anything she decides to be good at. It’s a little ridiculous.”

“That doesn’t explain where your dance moves came from,” T.K. said, looking expectant.

“I um,” Carlos thought for a half second about lying before he decided to give in and tell the truth. “I may have partnered her for a few years.”

“How long is a few?”

Carlos sighed and squeezed his eyes closed. “Like fourth through seventh grade.”

T.K.’s jaw dropped. He pointed a finger at Carlos’ chest. “I can’t believe you’ve never told me that!”

“Well it’s not like it’s relevant to everyday conversation! When would it have ever come up?”

“I don’t know!” T.K. shook his head. “What made you stop?”

Carlos shrugged. “I’m good, but I’m not championship level good. And I was getting into baseball. And Adriana is…really difficult to work with.”

“Carlos! T.K.!” They both turned to find a very welcome presence interrupting their conversation.

“Tía Luci,” Carlos said, pulling back from T.K. so he could give her a hug. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

“Well you know I had a date querido. T.K. mi amor! It’s so good to see you!” The many bracelets she was wearing jangled loudly as she hugged T.K. with equal fervor. 

T.K. had been to several Sunday dinners at this point and Tía Luci had accepted him exactly the way Carlos hoped she would, with nothing less than complete and total love. She’d always encouraged Carlos to be exactly who he was and love whoever he desired. It helped of course that she’d had four husbands of her own and was currently single and dating with astonishing frequency.

“It’s good to see you too Tía Luci,” T.K. said with a smile.

“I thought mom said you had a pottery class,” Carlos said.

“I had a date at pottery class,” she said and then leaned closer. “And the clay wasn’t the only thing that got handled, if you catch my meaning.”

Carlos’ cheeks burned as T.K. laughed. His aunt was a free spirit and that meant she was pretty free with most things. Including her sex life. And while Carlos didn’t judge, he definitely didn’t always need all the…details she provided.

“Oh don’t look so scandalized,” she admonished, squeezing his arm. “It’s not like you’re a saint either, sobrino. With a boyfriend like this you must get up to all kinds of nonsense. And if you’re not you should start. You’re only young once!” Someone caught her attention and she waved. “I must go see Alejandro, but you two have fun dancing.”

“How about we run away to New York together?” Carlos asked as she floated away.

“You love her,” T.K. said knowingly.

“I do. But I don’t need to know every detail of her dating life. And no matter how many times I tell her that she doesn’t quite seem to get the message.”

“Seems like Francesca and Adriana come by it honestly,” T.K. said. “Oversharing runs in the gene pool.”

“Yes along with nosiness, a strong desire to meddle, and a life long obsession with the Astros,” Carlos said with a roll of his eyes.

“And yet somehow you have none of those qualities,” T.K. said, raising his eyebrows in a way that suggested he was being sarcastic.

“Me?” Carlos said. “What are you talking about? I don’t do any of those things.”

“Maybe not so overtly. But when you found out Mateo’s house had blown up, you organized all those donations to help out him and his roommates.”

“Because it was the right thing to do!”

“Of course it was. But it was also meddling. Kind meddling. But meddling. And we’ve talked about the cow eyes.”

“What do the cow eyes have to do with anything?” Carlos asked, slightly annoyed.

“When you want to know something that I don’t want to share, you waste no time turning them on. And you know that neither I, nor anyone else can resist. Nosiness.”

“That’s not nosy! It’s…digging for information.”

“Information your chosen suspect may or may not want to share. The suspect being me. Admit it Carlos. You’re more like your family than you’d like to believe.”

“I—“ Carlos struggled to come up with a reply. “I don’t like that you’re siding with my sisters. That was not the point of bringing you here. You’re supposed to back me up.”

“Oh I will never speak to your sisters about this,” T.K. told him. “I’ve got your back. I just want you to know that I know.”

Carlos opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a small body hurtling into his legs so hard he almost fell over. “Tío Carlos!” Marco practically yelled. “You said you would come in an hour. It’s been more than an hour. Will you pleeeeeeeeeeeease come throw the ball with me? You promised!”

Carlos looked a T.K. who smiled and nodded toward Marco. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not sure I want to leave you alone with my sisters after what you just said. I’m scared about what other things they might put into your head.”

T.K. laughed and gave him a little push. “Go. I’ll try not to be swayed further to their side.”

“You heard him! Go! Go!” Marco pushed Carlos from behind over toward the grassy area past the picnic tables.

“Marco, Marco, relax,” Carlos said, breaking away from his nephew’s aggressive pushing. 

“I waited all day,” Marco told him with a glare.

“And you’re going to wait longer if you’re not polite,” Carlos told him.

Marco looked only slightly chastened. “Sorry.”

“Mhmm.” Carlos tried not to roll his eyes. “Do you have a ball and a glove?”

“Yes!” Marco ran ahead and grabbed them off a picnic table. “Here. This one’s yours. Abuelo got it out of the garage for me.”

Sure enough it was Carlos’ high school mitt. It was beyond worn out, but it would do for a quick round of catch before he rescued his boyfriend from the clutches of whichever sister had decided to grill him next. 

“Okay you go over there and I’ll go over here,” Marco said excitedly, running several yards away, ball clutched in his hand.

His first throw took Carlos by surprise. “Whoa! You’re getting really good at that,” Carlos said as he tossed it back.

“Dad says I might make the travel team this year,” Marco said excitedly as he delivered another throw that made Carlos’ palm sting.

“Yeah I think you’ve got a good shot at it,” Carlos told him. “How’s your fast ball?”

“So good! But I have to work on my curve ball. It doesn’t always go the right way.”

“Ah, I’ve got a trick for that. Let me show you.”

It didn’t take long for all of Carlos’ nieces and nephews to realize he had left the adult table and was available for fun. After he finished with Marco, a game of tag was requested by his other nephews. Then Bianca and Elena wanted to show him the crafts they’d been working on and make him a friendship bracelet which he immediately put around his wrist. 

Nearly an hour had gone by and Carlos began to look around for his boyfriend, feeling guilty for having left him alone for so long. But just as he began making his way back to the picnic tables, Carolina found him and wanted to tell him all about a school project she’d finished recently.

One minute he was chatting with her about orca whales and the next something was colliding with his skull, hard and fast. He felt his head snap to the side, fingers automatically going to touch the spot directly behind his ear.

Carolina had frozen her eyes wide. “Tío Carlos? Estás bien?” she asked tentatively.

The world seemed to tilt and he sank down slowly onto a picnic bench, fingers fumbling against the weathered wood as he tried to aim successfully and not miss and fall to the ground instead. “Sorry!” Marco called, running over. 

Oh. The baseball. That’s what had hit him. That explained the extreme throbbing that had started and why he could already feel a knot growing at the site of impact.

“You hit Tío Carlos right in the head!” Carolina scolded.

“I didn’t mean to!” Marco protested back. “I just threw it, that’s all! I was working on my curveball! It wasn’t my fault!”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Carlos said calmly, even though his vision was starting to blur at the corners. “It was an accident.”

“See? It’s fine!” Marco told her. 

“I’m telling Mom!”

“No you’re not!”

The two continued to squabble and Carlos closed his eyes as their raised voices cut through his skull like a knife. “Carolina,” he interrupted finally. “Can you go find T.K. for me? Tell him I need to ask him something.”

“Yeah.” She narrowed her eyes at Marco. “I’m still telling mom,” she hissed, causing him to take off after her as she ran away.

Carlos swallowed against the sudden queasiness in his stomach. He was regretting the number of tamales he’d eaten now.

The sunlight was really starting to hammer into his skull so he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing through his nose, trying to keep his stomach from becoming violent. A hand on his knee startled him. “Carlos?” T.K.’s voice was quiet and concerned. 

Carlos opened his eyes and found his boyfriend or rather, several blurry versions of his boyfriend, looking up at him. “Hey,” he said quietly. Even talking seemed to hurt his rattled brain.

“Are you okay? Carolina said something about a baseball.”

“It was an accident,” Carlos said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Okay,” T.K. said slowly, clearly trying to gauge the situation and read between the lines of what his boyfriend wasn’t telling him. “Where did it hit you?”

Carlos took another slow breath in through his nose as his stomach clenched. “Behind my ear.”

“Which side, this side?” T.K. asked, lifting a hand and gently probing at Carlos’s skull.

His fingers found the knot almost immediately and even though his touch was gentle it sent a stab of pain shooting through Carlos and his stomach lurched. He jerked away, unsuccessful in suppressing a tight lipped moan.

“Okay, hey I need you to talk to me, all right?” T.K. said, his voice going serious as his fingers instinctively sought the pulse point on Carlos’ wrist. “How bad is your pain?”

Carlos had had concussions before; you couldn’t play varsity baseball without the occasional injury. This was ten times worse than he remembered. “Like a seven?” His voice was shaky and opening his mouth at all felt like a huge risk given the discontent happening in his stomach. “And there are about four of you right now.”

“Did you lose consciousness?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

Carlos squinted at him. “Are you really asking me that?”

“Answer please,” T.K. said, eyes serious.

“Carlos Nicolás Reyes Moreno.”

“And where are we?” 

“My parents’ ranch.”

“Good. And what’s your badge number?”

Carlos opened his mouth and found his mind strangely blank. “I—”

“You can’t remember?” T.K. asked.

“I—no.” He felt panic start to well up in his throat. “T.K…”

“It’s okay,” T.K. said calmly, gently cupping the non-injured side of his face. “You’re going to be all right. But we need to go to the hospital, okay?”

“Oh god,” Carlos groaned partly from pain and queasiness and partly from panic. “Any chance we can sneak out of here without telling my family?”

“Oh, babe, I think that ship has sailed,” T.K. said sympathetically.

“Carlitos? What happened?” Andrea approached at a rapid pace, the Reyes sisters flanking her along with Adriana, Tía Maria, and Tía Luci. He was sure his father wasn’t far behind.

Even as pain clawed at the inside of his skull Carlos tried to assuage their fears. “I’m fine, just a little accident,” he managed.

“Carolina said Marco hit you in the head,” Elena said worriedly. 

“Head injuries are very serious,” Tía Luci told them. “I once dated a tennis player who got a concussion.”

“He got hit with a tennis ball?” Elena asked.

“No, we got a little overly enthusiastic in the bedroom. No half assed sex from that one!”

Carlos heard Tía Maria start muttering a prayer.

“Andrea! What’s going on? Is he all right?” Predictably Gabriel had caught up with the group, a large grill spatula still in his hand.

“Let’s just give him a little room to breathe,” T.K. said calmly, holding up a hand to keep them from coming in closer to smother him with concern. “Francesca if you could go get me some ice and a towel please.”

She disappeared in an instant toward the back of the house.

“Should we call an ambulance?” Teresa asked.

“I am fine,” Carlos insisted again, squeezing his eyes closed as another wave of nausea and dizziness swept over him. He would be. As soon as he was away from his coddling family and in his bed at home.

“Carlitos you be quiet and listen to your boyfriend. He is a professional,” Andrea scolded, worry coloring the sharpness of her tone.

“Yes, T.K., what does he need?” Gabriel asked.

“We’re going to get some ice on here and go from there,” T.K. said. “I don’t think an ambulance is necessary at this point.”

Francesca returned with ice and a towel. “Thank you,” T.K. said, wrapping the ice up tightly and then ever so gently pressing it against Carlos’ head.

He hissed in pain, knuckles gripping the edge of the picnic bench so hard he felt splinters of wood begin to dig into his fingertips. “I’m sorry,” T.K. murmured sympathetically. “We need to try and get the swelling down.”

“It’s okay,” Carlos said through gritted teeth. He hadn’t thought it was possible for his head to hurt more, but the added coldness of the ice was proving to be too much and he felt the tight hold he had on his composure starting to slip. He wanted to leave, he wanted to lie down and sleep, he wanted T.K. to hold him while he cried like a baby because everything hurt like a motherfucker and he was embarrassed as hell about it. 

His family was still carrying on around him, he could hear them asking questions and making plans, but all he focused on was T.K.’s free hand, the one that wasn’t pressing ice to his skull. That hand was resting comfortingly on his knee, thumb moving slowly back and forth. Thank god T.K. was here to mitigate the chaos.

He didn’t realize he was starting to drift away until T.K.’s hand squeezed his knee more tightly and then moved up to his shoulder, keeping him upright. “Hey, hey, no, don’t go to sleep,” he said urgently.

Right. Sleep was not a good idea. Carlos forced his eyes open and tried to focus on his boyfriend’s worried face, but it swam in front of him and made his stomach churn. “T.K…”

“I’ve got you,” T.K. said firmly. He turned and looked up at Andrea and Gabriel who had come to hover a little closer. “We need to get him to the hospital.”

“I’ll drive you,” Andrea said immediately.

“You’re entertaining all these guests mi amor,” Gabriel said. “You stay, I’ll take the boys.”

“We’re all coming,” Lucía said immediately.

Carlos felt his heart rate quicken at the thought of his entire family standing around in the hospital waiting room and the kind of chaos that would cause. He didn’t need to worry though. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” T.K. said quickly. “There’s no reason to believe this is anything more serious than a concussion. It will be quick, not worth everyone coming out.”

“I will update you the entire time,” Gabriel promised.

“Text messages every five minutes,” Andrea ordered.

“Can you stand?” T.K. asked and Carlos nodded his affirmative, immediately regretting the motion when the throbbing in his skull increased.

T.K. took his arm and Carlos got up on wobbly legs. He made it about two steps before his knees began to give out and he felt his father grab his other arm. “Steady mijo,” Gabriel said.

It seemed like an eternity before they passed through the house and into the front driveway. Out of sight of his family Carlos felt the last of his control slip away. The blood drained from his face and he gagged. 

“Whoa!” T.K. said, quickly lowering him to the ground as he began to heave out the contents of his stomach onto the concrete.

By the time it was over Carlos’ pain had ratcheted up to somewhere in the nines and he heard himself letting out a pathetic whimper as his brain exploded inside of his skull. “Easy Carlitos, easy,” his father said, the words barely registering as he and T.K. lifted Carlos back onto his feet and basically carried him the rest of the way to his dad’s truck.

He ended up with his head in T.K.’s lap, his boyfriend continuing to hold ice against his head with one hand, while the other ran soothingly up and down his arm. “Stay awake for me, all right?” he said.

“Trying,” Carlos said, his voice sounding cracked and broken. Mostly he was trying to breathe because he really didn’t want to throw up again. Every bump in the road, every touch of the breaks, sent pain ricocheting through his head. “It really hurts.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. We’re almost there,” T.K. said softly. “You’re all right, keep breathing, okay?”

Gabriel pulled directly up to the ER doors and he and T.K. helped Carlos into a wheelchair. If he’d been in any less pain he would have found the entire thing humiliating, but every bit of his energy was currently being spent on staying awake and not vomiting all over the floor.

“I’ll park the car and meet you inside,” Gabriel said as T.K. pushed him through the doors.

The next few hours were a hellish blur. They ran a battery of tests including an MRI and a CT scan, asked him dozens of questions, all of which he was able to answer thank god.

Despite his best efforts, he threw up twice more, T.K. holding a basin in front of his face each time, then rubbing his back comfortingly as he curled into a ball, knives stabbing through his head after such violent movement.

He hated being reduced to a shaking, moaning mess, especially in front of his father, but there was no help for it. The pain was only growing worse and there was no relief in sight, not until the tests came back.

“Breathe,” T.K. said, running a thumb back and forth over Carlos’ hand. “Carlos you have to breathe and try to relax.”

“I can’t.” The words came out on a whimper. “It hurts.”

“Carlitos, you have to try,” his dad said, sounding beyond concerned. “The more tense you are the worse it will feel.”

Tears slid down his cheeks as the pounding in his head beat on relentlessly. It had been hours and there was never any relief to the waves of pain, just a constant throbbing, knifelike agony. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled in on himself, ragged, stuttering breaths tearing from his chest.

“I’m going to go find the nurse,” Gabriel said. “My wife and daughters might be better at nagging, but I’m sure I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

He disappeared out the door and the next thing Carlos knew the bed was shifting as T.K. climbed in with him, wrapping his arms tightly around Carlos’ body. “What are you doing?” Carlos choked out.

“Taking care of you,” he said, his lips by Carlos’ ear. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Breathe. Just a little bit longer and we’ll get you some medication. I promise.”

T.K.’s fingers stroked up and down his arm and he continued to murmur soothing words into Carlos’ ear. Carlos felt his muscles slowly begin to unclench one at a time. The agony in his skull began to ease, just enough that he could breathe easier and think a little more clearly.

His dad must have given someone a piece of his mind because within fifteen minutes the doctor had returned. “Okay, Mr. Reyes we are looking at a grade two concussion here. All your scans came back clear so while painful, your recovery should be pretty easy.”

“No brain bleed?” T.K. asked.

“No. No brain bleed, no skull fracture.”

He could see T.K. and his father sag in relief. They were both putting on a good front, trying to be strong for him, but in that moment the worry in the room finally lifted off like a cloud, dissipating into calm.

“We’re going to keep you for a little bit, start you on some strong Tylenol to help manage the pain. I’ll come check on you in an hour okay?”

It was another two hours before they were finally able to go home, Gabriel dropping them off with promises to bring Carlos’ car over in the morning.

He was more steady on his feet now and the medication had helped both his headache and the nausea, so with T.K.’s help he was able to manage the stairs without too much difficulty.

T.K. sat him on the bed and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. “I can do it,” Carlos said, but his boyfriend gave him a stern look and continued. 

This behavior persisted until Carlos was settled in bed, an extra pillow behind his head, a glass of water on the nightstand along with additional Tylenol. “Better?” T.K. asked as Carlos leaned back against the pillows with a sigh.

“Yeah,” Carlos told him. The lights were dim, causing his splitting headache to dull to a throbbing one instead. 

He heard his phone buzz for the thousandth time in the last few hours. “Do you want to see who that is?”

He couldn’t look at the screen without feeling like someone had stabbed a knife through his eyes. Hopefully that would pass quickly. It was only a grade two concussion and most of his pain was coming from the actual injury itself, not his brain rattling around in his skull.

T.K. punched in Carlos’ passcode and then scrolled through. “You have forty seven unread texts. Most of them are from your sisters. A few from your mom and aunts. And one reminding you to vote next week.”

Carlos groaned. “You’d think I was dying. This isn’t even as bad as the time Elías flipped the four wheeler over while we were on vacation. He broke his leg in two places and had to have surgery and nobody was all over him.”

“Oh, the texts aren’t about you,” T.K. said, eyes lighting up with mirth.

Carlos squinted at him. “I’m confused then.”

T.K. cleared his throat. “You listen to T.K. and do what he says. That one is from Teresa.” He scrolled a little further. “Congratulations on picking someone who’s not a dick. He actually comes in handy, that’s Adriana.” He snorted. “And this one from Francesca just says, ‘Remember not to fuck again until your brain is better.’”

“You know, Tía Maria campaigned pretty hard to send her to a convent when she was a teenager. Some days I think we should have let her,” Carlos said.

“The rest are variations on how great I am and how you need to eat a lot of soup and get a lot of rest. And I have a text from your mom.”

Carlos cracked one eye to look at him. “Are you going to share?”

“Mm…I’m not sure you can handle this one.”

T.K. was grinning from ear to ear, clearly beyond proud of himself and delighted to have information Carlos didn’t. 

“T.K. just read it. I can see that smug look on your face.”

He cleared his throat. “T.K. thank you for taking care of our Carlitos. You are such a blessing to our family.” T.K. grinned. “They like me.”

“Of course they like you.”

“They really like me.”

“Yes, T.K. My family loves you. Just like I always knew they would.”

“Well I appreciate that. But you really didn’t have to get hit in the head with a baseball just so I could endear them to me with my paramedic skills.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Marco,” Carlos said. “He’s the one with an arm like a Major League baseball player.”

“Yeah he can really throw huh?” T.K. said, brushing a gentle hand through Carlo’s curls, careful to avoid the area the ball had struck. “How’s your pain?”

“Tolerable,” Carlos said. 

“And the nausea?”

“Better,” Carlos said. 

“Good.” T.K. seemed relieved. “Listen, next time you want to get out of a family activity, you can just tell me. You don’t need to give yourself a grade two concussion. Just say the word and I will fake an emergency and get us out of there.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t fake an emergency after hour one,” Carlos said. “Thank you for today. You getting along with my family it…” Tears threatened to close his throat and he forced them back because he really wanted T.K. to know what he was feeling. “It means everything.”

“They’re easy to get along with,” T.K. said. “And we have a lot in common.”

“Oh?”

“We all love you.”

[canvas-the-florist]

Two Halves Make a Whole

Ship(s): Romantic Logince, Background Platonic Moxiety, Platonic Dukeceit, Creativitwins (they’re all friends okay I make the rules)

Warnings: Swearing, blood mention and mutilation of meat, alcohol mention, NSFW mention (not that much just like… saying someone had sex in a sentence), food mention, possible second hand embarrassment

Summary: The thing about idioms is that Logan has a hard time understanding them metaphorically, and tends to stick with the more logical reasons. Which can be confusing to the others when he starts calling Roman his “other half”. (Thank you to @hteragram-x for letting me use their post as inspiration <3)

Word Count: ~2.7k

-

   They had just finished up recording a video. Something about accepting trauma and accepting that you’re allowed to move on from it. Thomas went up to his room for a nap while Patton walked over to sit by Virgil on the stairs. Roman wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulders with a big smile. “You did so well, Pocket Protector! Not as well as me but I’m sure you’ll catch up soon!”

   Logan rolled his eyes and moved out from under Roman’s arm and crossed his. “Thanks. You were… adequate as well. Despite messing up a three sentence line five times.”

   Roman let out a loud scoff attracting the attention of Patton and Virgil. Patton covered up a laugh with a cough that wasn’t very convincing. “It was a very difficult line, Logan! How dare you accuse Creativity of messing up!”

   “Did Princey mess up another line?” Virgil asked from his place on the stairs. Patton punched his arm, muttering that it was rude. “I’m just asking a question, Pops. I’m not intending to be mean.”

   “Virgil!” Roman was red in the face with embarrassment and turned back to Logan who had a small smile. Roman’s face softened slightly over his little giggle before remembering he was supposed to be upset. “Logan you sicked Virgil on me!”

   “I do not believe that Virgil is sick. If he is, we should attend to that immediately.”

   “That was an expression, Alan Boring.” Roman corrected. “Do you want me to add a vocab card?”

   “Yes, thank you.” Roman gave a thumbs up and sunk out. Logan walked over to the remaining sides. “Well, my other half is working on that I believe we should cover what to do to keep Thomas healthy during the editing process for the video.”

   Virgil fell down a step causing Patton to fall to the ground completely. Virgil coughed and moved back up while Logan just looked confused. “Your other half?”

   “Yes?” Logan pulled out a vocab card. “There is a theory that the brain is composed of two parts, logic and creativity. Two halves making a whole person. While this is not factual I thought the idiom would work with Roman and myself. Is that not correct?”

   “Logan-” Virgil started but Patton cut him off.

   “That’s really sweet that you’re picking up nicknames like Roman and I! I’m sure that Roman would appreciate it. Too bad he wasn’t here to see or understand your quip.”

   At this point Roman showed up with about three index cards in his hands. He walked over to the others staring at his cards as he moved. “Okay so I made the card but then I got distracted and doodled on these ones but I think they turned out okay. So, I want Patton’s validation on- Wait are you guys talking about the schedule without me? Rude.”

   “My apologies, Roman, we haven't covered anything important yet as I had to explain a joke but I would like your contributions to this conversation as well.” Logan gave a smile and Roman tightened his grip on the cards. “Are you going to hand me the card, Roman?”

   “Oh yeah, here you go.” Roman had a crush and didn’t want to do shit about it.

   The talk took awhile. Especially after Janus and Remus joined which was just chaos disguised as two sides. But that wasn’t the only chaos afoot! A few hours after the meeting and a lot hours past when Thomas should have been asleep, Virgil walked to Patton’s room, knocking on the door softly. Worried that he was too quiet he was about to knock again when the door swung open. Virgil quickly backed up to avoid accidentally punching Thomas’s morality.

   “Uh, hey Patton. Can we talk?” He asked, now fidgeting with his hands.

   Patton gave a concerned look but nodded and moved out of the way to let Virgil in. He closed the door and turned to Virgil with a comforting smile. “You seem nervous, kiddo. Why don’t you hold one of those plushies? That usually helps me.”

   He grabbed a bean filled one that looked like a tiny elephant without a mouth and beads for eyes. Virgil tossed it in between his hands for a few moments while Patton sat down across from him. “I’m just going to get into it before I talk myself out of it. Why didn’t you tell Logan about him using a pet name for Roman?”

   Patton blinked before smiling. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that. Well, that’s an easy one Virgil! I think that this will be good for Logan. Using nicknames is something that an emotional side would do. This might be his way of opening up.”

   “Are… Are you sure? This seems more like… Deceit’s thing.”

   “Well, his name is Janus, Virgil and we don’t see eye to eye but I think that Logan becoming honest with his emotions is a good thing. You don’t agree and you can tell him if you want. I won’t take that from you. Just consider it.”

   Virgil held the elephant up to his face and sighed. He pulled up his legs so he was able to rest his chin on his knees. “I guess it would be embarrassing to know you’ve been using a word with romantic connotations without knowing it…” He made direct eye contact with Patton who was listening to what Virgil had to say. “You think this is going to be good for him?” He nodded and Virgil dropped his legs back to the ground. “Okay, we won’t tell him. I’ll tell him if he asks but if you think this is the right thing to do, I trust you.”

   “Thank you, Virgil.”

-

   Janus, Roman, Logan, and Patton were having a picnic in the imagination. Virgil and Remus decided not to go for separate reasons. Virgil mumbled something unintelligible and hissed at Janus before sinking out quickly while Remus was busy painting over a copy of Vincient Van Gogh’s “Two Rats” with what seemed to be blended pork rinds and blood. Janus had a cup of wine, Patton had a capri-sun, Roman had a lemonade, and Logan just had water. They were having a… civil conversation on whether 100 lions or 100 pokemon would win in a fight.

   “Bitch you know that pokemon would win!” Roman yelled pointing at Janus dramatically, who was nursing his wine. “They have magic powers! Lions are just animals!”

   Janus took a sip and let out a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Pokemon are over glorified rats at most.”

   “Why do they have to fight at all?” Patton asked, pretending not to enjoy Janus and Roman having a conversation that wouldn’t end in tears. He was genuinely upset about the fighting even if it meant two of his friends were finally interacting. “Couldn’t they just be friends?”

   “Do I have to be the one to point out that pokemon don’t exist?”

   Roman stuck out his tongue and picked up his glass again. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

   “Very well, if my other half says so. The lions would win.” Logan reached for an orange slice calmly as Janus raised an eyebrow. Roman was so offended by Logan’s side of the story that he didn’t even notice Patton trying not to choke on his drink.

   “Oh so you’re on the Lying King’s side?”

   “Lions hunt in a group and as I understand pokemon they fight one at a time in a turn based system. For a fight the lions would have a higher advantage.” Logan put the slice in his mouth while Roman narrowed his eyes.

   “What about legendaries?!”

   The fight continued for thirty minutes and Patton decided that the picnic was over. Janus came back to the dark side and hung up his cape in his room. He turned to Remus. “How did the painting go?”

   “Oh just wonderful, the entrails made a smiley face! Look!” Remus held up the canvas too close to Janus’s face. He took a step back and looked it over. If it wasn’t covered in guts it did look rather intriguing and interesting to look at. Janus clapped his hands together.

   “It looks amazing, Remus. Better than the original!” Janus wasn’t lying (for once) because it was just a shitty thing to do when someone is asking for feedback on art.

   “Thanks Jan! How’d the orgy with the light sides and my brother go?”

   Janus shrugged. “Just detestable. The sandwiches lacked but I did find out some information. Were you aware that your brother and Logic are dating?”

   Remus put his hands to his cheeks with an over dramatic gasp. “You’re telling me that little Roman is boning the nerd?! This is the best thing that’s happened since radiation poisoning!”

   “Yeah, I agree. So, want to watch Into the Woods?”

   “Is that even a question dipshit?!”

-

   Roman, Remus, and Logan were going over the storyboards for the next Sanders Sides. Creativities and Logic. It was going well, and Roman was feeling confident that it was going to be fun, even if they definitely weren’t getting it out on time. Logan got up and stretched.

“We’ve been working for two hours and 37 minutes we should take a break. I will bring us snacks. Do you want anything?”

   “Strawberries.”

   “No thanks I brought my own.”

   “Okay, strawberries for my other half and an empty glass for Remus.”

   “Thanks Logan!” Roman hadn’t taken his eyes off the notes, scanning for any discrepancies or something that could be done better while Remus looked over his shoulder taking a bite of deodorant. They stayed in silence for a second before Roman felt Remus staring at him and finally looked up. “What?”

   “So how long have you and Logie-Poo been having sex?”

   “I… what? We’re not- Why would you assume that???” Roman’s face went red and looked incredulously at his brother.

   “Jan-Jan told me that you and Logan have been ‘dating’ two weeks ago. And he just called you ‘his other half’ like a gay person. Are you not…” Remus made a lewd gesture with his hands.

   “No! We’re not… Wait… his other half? Did, did Logan really call me that?”

   “Wow! You’re really oblivious!”

   “Umm, shut up!” Roman’s face turned red as he hid it in his hands, completely flustered and unsure how to react to the situation. Had Logan been hitting on him for two weeks? Had it been longer than that? Remus laughed at him and hit his back. Roman rolled his eyes and sat back up. “What should I even do about this? I’m kind of tempted just to hide this in the back of my head for five years or some sort of grand gesture… Those are romantic, right?”

   “Or you could just make out with him! Well, consensually.” Roman punched him and Remus just kept giggling. “He HAS been calling you a disgustingly cute pet name for a LONG ASS time, dude… Haha ass…” Remus seemed to space out after that so Roman sunk out and appeared again in the living room. And Logan just so happened to be reading a book on the couch. Roman blushed again and cleared his throat.

   “Logan I need to talk to you.”

   He raised an eyebrow, closing his book after putting in a bookmark. Roman’s fist clenched around his sash to calm his nerves. “You wouldn’t NEED to talk to me for any reason so I’m going to assume you mean that you have some information to convey to me?”

   “I… umm, yeah.” Roman took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Why… Why have you been calling me your ‘Other Half’?” He leaned his head back and tried to calm down. He’s had a crush on Logan for a while and there was a sliver of a chance it might be reciprocated. Roman kind of felt like crying.

   “Oh, that?” Logan took a deep breath in and smiled, not that Roman could see. “Well, there’s an incorrect theory about the right and left hemispheres of the brain being logic and creativity. Therefore, you would be my other half.”

   Roman didn’t look at Logan, trying not to feel too disappointed. “That makes sense. Thanks for telling me, Logan. I’ll see you later…” His hand dropped to his side and he got ready to sink out, focusing only on his breathing. He made eye contact with Logan to see genuine confusion on his face. Roman gave a smile and began sinking out-

   “Roman wait!” He stopped. Logan had stood up and ran up to him. “Is that not what you wanted? I’m going to be direct because this is confusing to me but… Roman do you reciprocate romantic feelings for me? Because I really want to date you!”

   He didn’t respond immediately. Roman searched Logan’s face and he seemed to be meaning this. The passion on his face almost made Roman melt. He nodded slightly and decided for the first and only time to take Remus’s advice. Roman leaned towards Logan, grabbing his tie, and kissed him.

-

  The sides were hanging out in the kitchen while they were all working together to make a fam-ILY dinner. Virgil was tapping his foot nervously while vaguely listening to whatever Remus was ranting about. Patton and Janus were putting together the ingredients for a vegetable pie (excluding carrots of course) while Logan was making orange juice. Roman sat on the counter bantering with Janus. He laughed loudly and boldly, wiping a tear from his eye when his snake friend made a particularly bad pun.

   “Roman, my other half, would you please pass over the raspberries?” Logan asked easily. Virgil grumbled nervously, looking over at Patton, who was in a flour-based food fight with Remus. He sighed loudly and walked over Logan, finally cracking.

   He breathed in, ringing his hands. “Logan you’ve been calling Roman a pet name this entire time! The left brain right brain thing isn’t why people say my other half! I’m sorry for not telling you but Patton said to!”

   Roman and Logan looked at each other before looking back at Virgil. Roman quietly handed the raspberries to Logan before giving a soft smile. “Didn’t you know? Logan and I have been together, Storm cloud. It’s been a pet name this entire time.” Janus snickered to himself while putting the pie in but decided not to say anything.

   “You have?” Virgil asked.

   Logan nodded. “Yes, Virgil. Roman and I are indeed in a romantic relationship. Now, we’re going to set the table. Grab the plates?”

   Virgil stayed speechless, frozen in the kitchen until he got hit on his shoulder with flour. Roman got out the forks and walked to the table while Logan continued stirring the orange juice concentrate. After the pie finished, Patton helped serve everyone. Virgil stayed silent, with his forehead leaning on the table in shame. Eventually he started joining the conversation, ignoring his own embarrassment.

   When everyone finished up dinner. Logan volunteered to wash the dishes and Roman was the slowest to put away the food, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen. Roman gave Logan a hug from the back.

   “Your adorable, Logan.”

   “It’s ‘you’re’, Roman.” He corrected calmly, cleaning off a plate.

   “What? How did you- never mind. You ARE adorable, Logan. Even when you’re acting like a smartass.” Logan chuckled and twisted back to face Roman. He wrapped his arms around Roman to make it a full hug. “This is nice. I’m glad we’re dating.”

   “Even when I’m a smart ass, like you said.”

   “Even then.”

Taglist: @bullet-tothefeels @logan-sanders-enthusiast @local-art-cryptid @lizzy-lineart @jasmine-loves @justanonymous @enby-wizard @openthedoorplease @crossiantgay @meowthefluffy @as-the-stars-foretold @sablesides @thedukeofdeodorant-main

[hawkland]

Dear Fandom5k Author

My AO3 account (sidewinder)

Hello and thank you for writing for me! I’m excited to give this exchange a try for the first time and cannot wait to read what you can come up with for one of my requests. Please note I’d love any of them equally, no matter if I have more prompt ideas for one or the other. Some I seriously would love just about anything about since they are so rare, others I have more specific requests to scratch itches I haven’t seen written before (or that much.)

General Likes:

Soumates with a twist. I love soulmate/soulbond AUs, as long as it’s just not a shortcut to happily-ever, no-conflict fluff. I want there to be some difficulties or angst involved. For instance, I’d love seeing any fusion/inspired-by fics based off the concept of the AMC Soumates series - where there’s a newly-developed scientific test a person can choose to take to find their soulmate (if the other person out there has also taken the test). That way it’s a choice to find out or not. Would an already established couple want to take the test to find out if they’re really “meant” to be together or not? What if they find out other people are their “soulmates”? What about the possibility of platonic soulmates vs romantic? Discussions for the future if/when one partner dies before the other? I’d love to see these questions played out with one of my fave ships in either a  happy or somewhat angsty/dark way.

Vacation/travel stories. Being unable to travel this past year+ thanks to covid-19 has me desperate to explore and live vicariously through my favorite characters! So I’d love a story involving travel to somewhere new (to them). It could be a romantic getaway/honeymoon trip to somewhere special - and I love it when an author “takes me” to a favorite city/place of their own. Or two friends just going on an escapade together, maybe one sensing the other needs some time away from a stressful situation or workplace.

Smutty likes: I love extended kissing scenes, frottage, light restraint play, sharing-one-bed-for-~reasons~-ooops-how-did-we-wake-up-cuddling, bathing/caretaking an injured partner-turns-erotic, desperate/reunion sex.

Canon-divergent AUs - I’m always good with fix-its, shifts in canon that only change one thing and see what happens next or instead.

Do Not Wants:

A/B/O dynamics, mating heats. (I do like Supernatural fics that explore Castiel and the angels having bird-like behaviors and instincts, however.)

animal abuse/death

anything related to pregnancy/childbirth/kidfic (except for Jack in SPN)

formalized BDSM relationships

scat/watersports

unrequested alternative-universe scenarios such as high school/mundane/genderswap/coffee shop/fantasy/etc. There are a few ships/groups where I would enjoy specific AUs, and those are outlined below.

Completely sad endings/permanent character death or injury that isn’t part of canon

Rape/non-con between requested characters. Dubious consent is fine in situations like magic spells/possession/fuck-or-die, however.

Supernatural

AU - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Fix-it fic, Interpersonal Drama, Smut, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, Worldbuilding, Horror

In general for SPN, I love canon-divergence AUs at pretty much any point in time (especially as they kept having so many dumb reasons in canon to keep Dean & Cas apart just when one or the other seriously needed support or TLC!) I’m okay with post-series Heaven fics as well as canon fix-its/completely ignoring the finale, and I like exploring both human!Cas as endgame or Cas keeping/getting his full angelic grace back (which is a slight preference to me, as he repeatedly seemed to genuinely value/want to be an angel? But exploring all possibilities in fic is cool for me.)

I’m a sucker for Castiel Whump/hurt!Cas in general, so long as the author remembers Cas is a bad ass and not just a baby in a trenchcoat. If he’s going to suffer, I want him to suffer stoically until he just cannot keep up the facade any longer.  

SPN-specific DNWs: mentions/implications of Wincest, past or present; extreme bashing/characterization of John and Mary Winchester, or Jimmy Nowak, as homophobic. 

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Give me all the finale fix-it fics - no I’m still not over it, I’m still happy to read any new twist on how Cas got out of the Empty and got back together with Dean (and Sam). If Dean still dies early/ends up in Heaven, I’d like a story that explores what happens when one gets bored of peace-and-happiness-ever-after. (Yes, I’m a big fan of The Good Place and as such it makes me wonder if eternity with no conflict and everything you could ever want would just melt your brain and identity after a few millennia.) So what then?

I’m also stealing a Tumblr rant as a prompt I’d love to read, if you want to get into some good dirty smut:

ive had it up to here with fictional gays being like “i love you and if all i can ever have is that knowledge it’s enough for me” we need more “i have been struck down by horny insanity and i beg you to fuck me once. i’ve had three smirnoff ices and i’m gonna be crazy now. we can pretend it didn’t happen i don’t give a shit just gimme daddy’s blunt instrument” it’s more realistic [x]

Um so yeah. I’d love an au where, anywhere along the line when it’s been their/someone’s/the universe’s life on the life, Cas takes the initiative decides they’re gonna have crazy sex even if it’s just once before the end of the world/we die. But then, oops, we’ve survived, now we have to deal with it. ...Please?

For something different, maybe more romantic/fluffy, I’d really love a vacation/getaway story here, since they never really got anything like that of substance on the show. I want to see Cas take Dean somewhere beautiful and amazing in the world he’s never gotten to see before. Show him there’s more than just greasy diners and the landscape of America to enjoy and experience. If you want, they could stumble on a case/haunting/monster from another part of the world while they’re at it...but I just really want to see Dean having some mind-opening and expanding experiences beyond what’s he’s known and seen so far in life.

In specific with Cas/Dean + Sam, I love another tumblr idea I saw recently where Sam totally keeps bringing up the idea of “Sastiel” as a fun joke between him and Cas, and Cas plays along, and it drives Dean up the wall. Cas has to just keep re-assuring Dean that no, he doesn’t see Sam that way...but why does it bother Dean so much? A.k.a. Dean has to finally own up to the fact that it bothers him because he wants Cas to feel that way about him.

Castiel (Supernatural)

I just love Cas, period, end of story, he’s my One True Character of SPN. I love any stories that try to explore him more fully—be it his relationships in the past with other angels and being a BAMF commander/warrior of Heaven, or what specifically it is that keeps him so tied to the Winchesters. I love stories that feature his true-form in some fashion or try to dig into the alien/different nature of angels vs. humans.

Also, another Tumblr-musing-turned-prompt (I lost who posted it, sorry!) I'd love to see explored in a canon divergence fic focused on Cas. Specifically: 

"I would have loved an arc for Cas (after he got his grace back) where he wanted to help people, like he was helped. Spending time in soup kitchens or healing people, and through that developing a sense of self purpose, leading to his grace replenishing unexpectedly. Sort of fulfilling the traditional angel role (as we know it nowadays) by replacing his faith in heaven/dean with faith in himself, to redefine himself as a protector of humanity instead of heaven's soldier."

Group: Castiel/Dean Winchester & Jimmy Novak Group: Castiel & Jimmy Novak

We know Cas carried a lot of guilt for what happened to Jimmy and his whole family. So I'm interested in a post-finale, canon-compliant (I guess?) fic where Cas tries to reconcile things with Jimmy in Heaven. Maybe Jimmy & Amelia were one of his first "projects" or test cases in trying to build a new and better Heaven with Jack? (And it's what he was so busy with while Dean was still alive.) Or, is it weird in Heaven with Cas and Jimmy looking so similar? Does Cas still fight doubts as to whether Dean really loves him, or just desires this body/form that isn’t his own?

Otherwise, I've been thinking about Endverse!Cas, who had lost his grace/powers as the angels have all left and abandoned humankind. What happened to/where is Jimmy in all of that? (If we go by the canon that Jimmy was not killed, nor went to Heaven, until the end of Season 5, when Lucifer blew up that vessel and Cas was resurrected by Chuck.) Are they now two "mortal men"/souls trapped sharing one body? Is that why Cas is so messed up/always seeking an escape through drugs and sex? (Besides of course Dean having changed so much.) This is one prompt where I don’t mind a very dark/not-so-happily-ever-after ending.

The Police

Angst, Character Development, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Humor, Interpersonal Drama, Smut

Group: Sting/Stewart Copeland

Yeah I’ll always request these two together even though I know it’s a long shot to find anyone else as obsessed about them as I am. Really anything at all whatsoever would make me happy for this ship: Reunion Tour-era fic, early punk days before they grew successful, soulmate AUs...

I’d also love a spooky story where they’re on tour/on the road somewhere and end up in a haunted hotel. Or their tour bus/van breaks down in the middle of nowhere and they have to seek shelter in an abandoned house or farm or something...and supernatural weirdness ends up affecting them or bringing them together.

If you want to go the crack route: it wasn’t enough for Miles to take them all around the world to tour in “exotic” locations back in the day. He’s arranged for them now to go on the ultimate tour...of outer space and alien worlds.

Crossover Fandom

Action/Adventure, Character Development, Interpersonal Drama, Angst, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural

Group: Abe Morgan (Forever TV) & John Munch (L&O: SVU)

I’ve had a long running headcanon that these two could have been friends back in their respective 60s/early 70s hippie days. I’d love either a story set back then, “pre-canon”, or them running into each other in NYC later in life. Munch ending up in Abe’s antique shop, for instance, while on an investigation?  

Group: Dean Winchester (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone) Group: Castiel (Supernatural) & Ezekiel Stone (Brimstone)

I’m fascinated by the idea of crossing over these two canons. Even if there’s some conflict in their approach to Hell/Lucifer/demons, there’s still a lot in common. Dean & Ezekiel having both put in their time in Hell and being demon hunters, for instance, and their complicated relationships with (fallen) angels. I’d love to see them bonding over their experiences (Maybe they even meet in Hell? Time DOES work differently there…) Maybe somehow after Ezekiel completed his mission for the Devil, he did get his second chance at “life on Earth”…but the devil’s trick is that it’s not HIS Earth, it’s in a different dimension (Supernatural’s). I’m also curious how Ezekiel might respond to Castiel as an angel–perhaps he mistakes Cas for a demon at first, with his powers, but then they realize they are in fact hunting the same demon? Cas is stuck in an alternative dimension and recognizes Ezekiel as a similar soul to Dean’s, and seeks out his help?

Basically I’d love some kind of casefic/demon hunt here, with the characters bonding over their shared/similar past traumas, taking care of each other when/if injured on a hunt, and/or perhaps helping them sort out their complicated feelings for another (ie, background Cas/Dean and/or Zeke/the Devil are TOTALLY welcome here, as I ship both of those ships.)

Law & Order: SVU

Group: John Munch/Odafin "Fin" Tutuola

Character Development, Established Relationship, Humor, Getting Together, Interpersonal Drama, Canon-Style Plot - Freeform, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery/Procedural, Slice of Life, AU-Genre shift

Munch/Fin is one of my eternal OTPs so I’m always happy to see something new featuring them! I’m always good for procedural/case-fics. And this is one request where I’d love to read some AU-Genre or setting shift, reimagining the two in some other situations besides police work. I’ve always loved the idea of John hosting a conspiracy/weird news radio show or podcast, and Fin as someone completely skeptical but who gets wrapped up in one of John’s mysteries. Or John as the owner of a bar somewhere that Fin is one of his regulars, and over time their friendship develops/deepens into something more.

Supernatural RPF

Misha Collins/Jensen Ackles Established Relationship, Getting Together, Smut, Fluff, Slice of Life, Humor

It’s odd for me to be into an actor RPF fandom (I usually only fall for music/band-related ones), but what can I say...these two just make it almost impossible not to see the possibilities!

I was thinking I’d love something set post-Supernatural...their first time seeing each other again after a long time apart? (What with the show ending, covid, Misha’s surgery, etc etc.) Could be at a convention or maybe they get to go off on a getaway together somewhere private/romantic and it’s...kind of tense and maybe nervous/angsty at first? Like with doubts about whether they can/should go back to the way things were before.

Or: putting tin-hatty speculation about the “secret/real identity” of Alma Perpetua aside, I love their poetry and I’d love any “Cockles” fic using one of their poems as inspiration.

[kivablog3]

Sylvia’s Cooking

I just got my first Stonewall 50 email. At the bottom of the email in the small print it says Heritage of Pride™, which means it’s still run by the same guys as always, except under more scrutiny now, after getting the march on Channel 7 and with the whole world coming next year to physically or spiritually fit into that little pie-wedge space on Christopher Street where the Stonewall Inn bar is located. This World Pride thing isn’t just an advertising slogan they came up with at HoP, it’s a Thing, like Stonewall 50’s a Thing. My therapist, who’s very active in the community and probably gets lots of interesting emails from various Things, told me it happens at a different city’s Pride each year.

And next year, of course, they’re coming to New York, because it’ll be the 50th Anniversary of the night Sylvia Rivera and her friend Marsha P. Johnson (who I never met, and who may have thrown the first punch, there are scholarly debates on this point, but I am told that Sylvia firmly insisted that she was the first one who punched a cop, it’s like the debate over Lexington and Concord, they’re not sure exactly where the Revolution started but we know that they started it) threw out the first punches to start the legendary three-day riot, rather than just get in the police van like always, right in front of the Stonewall Inn. The night the drag queens finally began to fight back. It made a sound heard ‘round the world, and it’s still reverberating, and if anything really changed the course of history in that wretched year of 1969, that surely did.

It reached me in the front seat of our car when I was with my mom one Saturday, when for once my sister wasn’t with us. I used to like tagging along on her Saturday visits to her office, wherever that was. As we were about to drive away from the small airfield where she worked as a secretary to go to some thing where co-workers were already playing bad country music, I asked her what a homosexual was. It was a sunny day and there was no one else around for a mile in any direction. It was the Summer of 1969, of course, and I was eleven years old.

I can only suppose this is just after I’d heard of Stonewall in the news. It was the first time I’d ever brought up sex as a topic of discussion with my mother, and I did this with some trepidation. I sort of knew this wasn’t her favorite topic of conversation generally, sex, much less transgressive sex. The kind hippies had. Maybe some of them were homosexual, who knew? So I persisted in my line of inquiry. What I didn’t know was that she’d been waiting for some version of that question ever since she’d stopped dressing me in dresses, when I was two.

She put the transmission back in park, turned the engine off, sighed, and for once didn’t light a cigarette before we started what turned out to be a lengthy, meandering conversation, which wandered after a while into related and then tangential topics, and which ended with me correcting her on some minor misunderstandings as to how gonorrhea was transmitted, at which point things kind of ground to a halt and she started the car up.

The whole thing probably took an hour. She used to joke that she’d had the Talk with me, the generalized birds and bees talk, because we did touch on conventional sex and How Babies Are Made, but that I had ended up explaining some things to her, instead, which shouldn’t have surprised her. I did read a lot, after all. I probably already knew a couple of things about homosexuals, but I wanted an explanation of how they actually Did It, and as squirmy as that made me, I wheedled it out of her. I could’ve asked her more about how a male-female couple had sex, but that wasn’t what was on my mind. She wasn’t happy about it, and did her best to make it clear that it was all gross and disgusting. I think she made a face when she was explaining lesbians to me. I liked the sound of the word the first time I heard it, tbh: Lesbian. It sounded soft and fuzzy.

I remember wondering about the feasibility of anal sex, as she sketchily and hastily outlined it, which apparently was what men did together; but what women did together sounded really kind of fun and not nearly as difficult. She didn’t want to talk about that, though, and I do remember that it was around there that the discussion went off into the weeds, to things related and not. Eventually we ended up at syphilis and gonorrhea (aka “VD,” or venereal disease, where venereal=“vaginally transmitted,” rather than “of or having to do with the goddess or planet Venus” — clearly a term invented by men) and I explained some of the then-current science on transmission to her, i.e., you don’t catch it from dirty toilet seats in public restrooms. Not girls, not boys, it’s a myth, mom. They told us in science.

All that was fifty years ago, as of next June. The following June, in 1970, they had the first Christopher Street Liberation Day March, so 2020 is the fiftieth anniversary of the March. But next year is the Big One. It looks like this anniversary will be just as controlled and careful as the 25th anniversary in 1994 was huge and utterly chaotic and wonderfully random, with 200,000 marchers from around the world. We took over Central Park. We took over freakin’ Midtown. It rocked.

Well, not next time. No more of that anarcho-festive celebration stuff. Now you have to be part of a signed-up contingent to be part of the march, and those slots are limited. And no more hopping in-and-out from the sidewalk, apparently. They want everyone in a marching contingent to wear the same t-shirts, ffs. It has to be controlled, as well as going backwards (starting a few blocks north of Christopher, past the Stonewall the wrong way, and up Fifth Avenue, what the fuck?) I’m told some of the people in the Village are tired of the crowds and the noise. They can do what people do in Austin when SXSW comes along: leave town. Tiniest quantum violin playing.

Now that it’s a TV show, I guess it has to run on time and look good on camera. They’ll have a beautifully made-up drag queen doing commentary like last year, along with the usual probably-white cis-guy-&-cis-gal parade anchors. I don’t know where they find those. It’ll become another tradition soon, that trio as parade anchors, now that scientists have established that str8 people in statistically significant numbers will watch drag queens on television and thus advertising time can be sold for this event. It’ll be just like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, or the Fourth of July, only with One of Us in the booth along with two of them.

“And you know, Mike, the rainbow flag has been a unifying symbol in the LGBT community since it was first designed in 1978, and did you know that originally it had eight stripes….” There will be carefully-timed performances in front of the Stonewall, and commercial breaks. Some of the stories people tell will break your heart, some will make it sing. Plus commercials, did I mention the commercials? You can record it and FF through them. I did. I stopped this year to watch Chelsea and Rusty talking about Sylvia, which is what makes me think of them all, along with the fact that Sylvia and Marsha deserve statues, and you get reminded of that every June. I’d love to have a statue of the two of them at the Stonewall National Monument, which technically is the little triangular pie-slice shaped park, the benches and the wrought-iron fencing, where you can sit next to the statues representing gay men and women from the 1980s. They should add Sylvia and Marsha.

The whole parade on TV represents some kind of weird queer communications breakthrough, I guess. And now that it’s on every year, I suppose it has to be faaaaaaabulouss! I guess we can record it and go, too. And watch. There were some forums recently at the Center, maybe just one, where people could come and complain about the corporatization of Pride, and the most-of-us not marching thing, and the reverse-route thing where it just kind of ends around 28th Street for no apparent reason, and ask for things they won’t get, but that part’s over and it’s time for Early Bird sign-up.

Whatever. Sylvia and Marsha are the mothers of us all, both trannies and everyone else that fits under this patched, unwieldy tent called “LGBTQ.” We argue, some of us incessantly, about which part of the tent is what, and whether this part is even really part of the same tent as that other part of the tent, but no one argues with the fact that Sylvia and Marsha put up the first tent poles. That may not be the most elegant metaphor, but I’m going with it. Never apologize for your art.

And it’s kind of okay, I think now, or at least I’m trying to convince myself it is, that I never realized “who” Sylvia was, even though at least two people said I should talk to her because I was “interested in politics.” Hm? Oh, ok. No one ever said why. Ffs.

But it felt sort of like I knew Sylvia, the way it feels like I know these professors and other people who my wife works with, after I hear her describe them a few times. She’s a union delegate as well as a math professor, so she knows a lot of people. By now I also know a lot about professors in general. And in the same way I realized after a while from talking to people around T-House, conversations in which she came up, often at vital junctures, that Sylvia was the Mom around the place: she made dinner, I knew that much, and she did a lot of other things to keep Transy* House, Chelsea and Rusty’s house, from burning down, falling over, and sinking during those raucous years around the end of the 20th century. She seemed quite nice when I was introduced across a crowded room downstairs, which actually happened twice I think. She smiled and said hi, I do remember that. She seemed nice.

That, in and of itself, was quite difficult for some people I was around back then — this was and still is New York, the Attitude Capital of the Western Hemisphere and, during Fashion Weeks, the Tribeca Film Festival, and the General Assembly, perhaps the world — but from my brief impression she seemed genuine, and older in a reassuring way when I was twenty years younger. She gave off these hippie-mama vibes, just by making dinner. In a house where a whole lot of chaos happened, and necessarily so given how many trans kids with no other home came through there — because Chelsea and Rusty never turned anyone away, not as far as I know — not to mention how much fun was had there on a regular basis, at least some of it destructive of property, she just looked to me, in a vortex of drama, like a pole of stability.

Maybe that’s shaped by how people talked about her. Everyone said how nice she was; but I wasn’t over there often enough to run into her when she was (a) there and (b) had a free moment, and didn’t know I should prioritize it anyway. And there were other people using up the oxygen in the room at any given time, including me. But it would have been awesome to truly know her.

I knew other people there, had my own reasons for being there. I lived with Kathleen and our two-year-old son in an apartment which was also on 16th Street, in Brooklyn, two blocks away. It was the Nineties, so it didn’t seem unusual to me that there was a house full of transfolx a short walk away, nor that my friend Jamie knew everyone there. Like, she knew everyone. She was the other pole of stability then, around the turn of the century. She doubtless knew Sylvia pretty well, and she probably told me enough to form an impression.

Now Chelsea and Rusty own a bookstore upstate, and T-House is long gone, replaced by the ineluctable tidal forces of gentrification, although there’s a queer history tour that stops at the site and tells a short version of The Story. I wish sometimes they could have a sort of T-House reunion, somewhere, somehow. I would very much like to find Jamie again, even if only online. And I do still wish I’d gotten to talk with Sylvia.

#HistoricalNearMisses

__________

Footnote: Everyone back then except Chelsea, more or less, called it that, but without the “s,” if you get what I mean. We don’t say it anymore, at least not when younger transfolx are around. People get really upset, and if it’s only been used to hurt you it’s a painful word, I get that. Yet it was our word then, and it didn’t hurt at all. It was a warm, friendly word. It was what we called each other, lovingly, and no one else had any reason to use it, and I miss it.

this article also appears at https://medium.com/@kivazo/sylvias-cooking-1b1b4f24e780

[koganphrancis]

Ian Used To Do Better Stuff With Vans OR There’s Another Hour Of My Life I Won’t Get Back

This episode was dumb dumb dumb as fuck-and even more pointless than that.  The ONLY redeeming quality in it was that it was completely Terror-free.  Read on, if you dare.  My recap of Season H8 Episode Dear God Why Isn’t It Over Yet-or 11, if you want to keep it short.

As usual, I’ll get the others out of the way as quickly as I possibly can. 

Carl’s still illegally under-aged married, and this week he tells Kasammi, “I don’t think there’s any skin left on my dick.”  Yeah, they made that point last year when they had to keep taking it off after his misguided circumcision.  Not that the show is referring to THAT, of course.  They refuse to acknowledge any plot point that has gone before.  He and Kas take a wild tour through his before the show started past and I have no idea what the point is-is it to show us she’s truly insane because none of the horrors of life on the mean streets scare her?  Or to show us that Generation Z doesn’t experience reality because their whole lives have been instantly posted on screens of electronic devices?  I don’t know and I don’t care-quit trying to be fake deep, Shameless, if you even are.  I can’t tell.  The only (maybe) pertinent point of Carl’s story this week is he tells Kasammi after her hundredth shit fit on the subject that he won’t go back to military school and in the previews for next week it looks like the family (or at least Frank) will try to help him sneak away to do just that.  Yawn.

Debbie loses three toes-Frank chops them off for her.  Before that, Debbie is shown signing her 16 year old self out of the hospital-WHAT?  She’d need a parent or guardian for that.  Anyway, apparently Debbie’s not on any kind of welfare or insurance.  And doesn’t know that Ian could’ve gotten the money for her expensive surgery to attempt to save the toes by going down on the old couple just twice.  What is it with this show and cutting off toes?  They’ve done this before with the body they got to stand in for Aunt Ginger.  I’m so sick of the recycled plot points!

Speaking of which-Snore’s old man is out of prison so Lip gets him to fight him to violate his parole and send him back-did this new writer guy not see Yevgeny’s christening episode or is he just really into plagiarism?  It was such a fizzle to a going nowhere story to begin with.  I think the guy playing Snore’s version of Terry even had some of the same lines but I’m too lazy to rewatch and try to catch them.  If we were supposed to hate this guy like we hate Terry, it didn’t work.  And Lip was no Mickey showing up to defend people that mean something to him either-it was all a weak as fuck imitation.  And it was odd that Lip chose to call the guy out for “beating women” when he lets himself get beaten when he has sex with Eddy.  Who the fuck is he to judge?  Maybe ten year old Snore didn’t get that her parents were having consensual rough sex that got too violent and ended in death-but the show’s not that deep.

Snore’s telling of her mother’s death once again played like someone complaining about not getting the last bottle of nail polish in their favorite shade at Walgreens or something.  If she’s been so traumatized that she can’t put any emotion into the horrific memories that’s fine, but then I would argue that she wouldn’t be terrified of her dad coming after her either.  Snore just can’t emote OR imagine what it would be like to be in that setting, I’m sorry.  

And here’s what had me super pissed-Snore tells Lip she was 10 when her mom was killed in front of witnesses (Snore and her brother-she specifically says they both testified against him) and her dad’s already out on parole?  We don’t know how old Snore is now, but surely no older than 25 (and probably not even that old, but whatever), so the show is saying her dad got out in 15 years max, which is the time Mickey was sentenced to for NOT killing Sammi?  Fuck off.  

Also, why would the cops not even consider the father’s side of the story that Lip instigated the fight?  Lip has Eddy’s niece record the fight on his phone, and after it’s over he goes over to her and asks her how it looks or whatever, and she says Snore’s father threw the first punch.  Wouldn’t the cops question why a little girl was filming two men on a porch BEFORE a fight started?  Snore’s father must have Mickey’s public defender for a lawyer.  Fucking show should’ve shocked us all by having Lip get locked up for premeditated assault.  

Fiona meets with a lawyer (Janice from Friends, but she’s not as funny in this, sadly) and as soon as she said Fiona could lose both the apartment building and the Gallagher house I knew that storyline had jumped the shark and somehow next week all will be miraculously fixed-no way will the Gallaghers ever lose the house, that’s another plot point that’s been done to death.  At first I was thinking they’ll either come up with some fortuitous traffic camera footage showing that the guy jumped off the roof intentionally, or that Hugh Laurie would show up in a cameo as Dr. House and say that if a man “fell” off a roof that high, he’d have a hell of a lot more damage than one broken ankle, but no, the show isn’t going to even get that clever-they’re just gonna have the family cave and be willing to settle with Fiona if they get custody of her dog that suddenly she’s so worried about in this week’s episode.  She’s never shown that level of concern for any of her siblings.  

Frank has a tedious, boring couple of scenes about his “retirement plan”-he has a baggie of 3 stolen Social Security cards and anyone can see a mile off that the cards would’ve just been replaced by their original owners-they’re not like a set of fingerprints and you only get one for life and if you lose it someone else has your entire identity.  THEN they set up next week’s recycled/stolen plot to have Liam and Frank rip off Liam’s rich friend’s family just like Carl and Frank ripped off Liam and Carl’s gay foster dads-it didn’t work then, it won’t work now (and why didn’t Frank do hard time for that grand theft?).  

Svetlana and Vee and Kevin have a scene at a fancy (but not as fancy as the show was trying to tell us it was) bar that was a pathetic echo of both Ian and Mickey’s hotel bar scam AND of how funny the show used to be able to be.  Later Svet goes to humble herself to the other hand whore to find out how she snagged a rich fiance and discovers that the dude she’s about to marry is senile as fuck and Svet is going to step in to replace her, which is what I predicted the first time the hand whore showed up.  I will give Shameless credit for making me laugh unintentionally-since I’ve been picturing the “old rich dude” Svet was going to wind up with as John Wells’ fantasy version of himself, seeing the old dude in an adult diaper and thinking he’s Wells was very satisfying.  

Do I finally get to Ian now?  Do I have to talk about his bullshit?  There’s a scene of him in bed alone while the newlyweds are having sex in the same room, signalling that he’d rather be there than at Terror’s house, LOL.  Then it’s the next morning and he goes down to breakfast with his Bible in hand, but no pills.  Is that supposed to be significant?  We may never know...

He gets to the “Church Of Gay Jesus” and there’s so many “fans” there it’s like Beatles or One Direction footage.  The minister guy gets through the crowd to him with a big young guy and tells Ian the rando is “Bic” and he wants to help (I didn’t know the guy’s name till I saw it in the closing credits, I really thought his name was “Dick” and they were making a “big dick” joke, but no, I guess they were making a “Bic lighter” joke instead).  Ian and Bic instantly have more chemistry than Ian and Terror but it’s unintentional I’m sure-the actor playing Bic probably has taken acting classes and knows to look an acting partner in the eye, instantly making him more engaged than Terror’s ever been in a scene.  

The minister guy tells Ian, “Your life is no longer your own.”  Which first of all, I’m just not buying that all these youths have just been waiting for a messiah to show up and they’ll follow him anywhere, and secondly why was being with Mickey not Ian anymore, but he’ll give away his entire life for strangers?  Fuck you, Shameless.  (and speaking of his entire life, does he never have to go to work anymore?  Also, Fiona turned him down when he asked for a ride to the church-for once she had a good reason, that she had to pick up Debbie-but why is the show acting like Fi does things for him all of the sudden?  She DID give him a ride last week, and that was very OOC of her.)

There’s a kid trying to get Ian’s attention-he needs help getting away from his parents who have hired men to get him back.  At some point in the proceedings some guys jump out of a van and drag the kid into it.  Ian runs to the front of the van before it can pull away and goes all Chris Pratt in Jurassic Park, holding up his arms and not letting it advance.  The unintentional humor here amused me no end.  Then Ian lays down in front of the van and I actually said aloud to my TV, “Just run him over.”  I’m that done with this storyline and this show-just kill Ian off at this point, it’d be a mercy.  

Ian’s there on the ground with his arms thrown up over his head (not that the driver could even see him down there, right in front of the van) and we see that this time Shameless didn’t bother covering up Cam’s real life Sailor Moon tattoo.  SO LAZY.  All the other kids lay down around the van too so it can’t go anywhere  The 3 dudes in the van give up and let the kid get out.

The kid is 14 and the minister guy tries to talk sense into Ian, saying the parents have a legal right to their kid and they, more specifically Ian, can’t keep the kid.  Ian agrees to talk to the kid’s dad who tells him the parents aren’t bigots, they don’t care that their son’s not heterosexual, but he’s been living on the streets, doing drugs, and prostituting himself.  Then the father says, “We believe he may be mentally ill,” and Cameron (and yes, I mean Cameron, not Ian) makes a reaction face to that, but what it means, again, nobody knows.

Ian goes to talk to the kid where they have him hidden away in the Mickey Wedding Venue basement.  Ian tells him what the father told him, and the kid says they keep bringing him to a church (is that Ian’s trigger?  Churches? and if so, why?), plus they have him see shrinks who have put him on meds that knock him on his ass and he can’t get an erection.  He adds, “That’s what they really want-so I can’t have sex with another boy, you know?  Ever.”  Ian says, “Well you can’t stay here.  You have to find someplace where you can be safe, where you can be yourself.”  WHAT?  I don’t understand.  For one thing, isn’t that LITERALLY TERROR’S JOB?  To take runaways and provide them with a safe place to stay and a plan to get their lives back on terms that they can live with?  I don’t ever want to have to side with Terror, but this episode is basically saying that Terror’s way is right and Ian’s way is oh so wrong and misguided.  What the fuck?  Secondly, isn’t that what Ian THINKS he’s doing?  Why is he telling the kid HE has to find someplace safe?  Ian has literally been in this kid’s shoes-he knows there’s no safe places for someone even younger than he was when he got back from the army, living on the streets.  Anyway, after Ian’s lines the kid says, “Will you help me?” but Ian doesn’t answer one way or the other.  

I totally didn’t get this scene-why the writer had Ian say nothing.  I could see if it was to show Ian was getting more and more manic and now is on the downside of that and is becoming too depressed to speak to people-but then where’s his energy for doing anything coming from, plus the story isn’t SAYING he’s manic or depressed, and Cam and John Wells said Ian’s storyline is bold, audacious, great, etc and I don’t think either of them would’ve said those things if the payoff is just going to be that Ian needed his meds adjusted.  And why does Ian maybe believe what the kid is saying and not the dad?  Again, this IS Ian’s story!  Mentally ill, unable to help himself, and unwilling to take his pills!  I wondered why Ian didn’t at least give him a version of the Monica “you don’t have to change for them” speech, or his own “you don’t have to fix me because I’m not broken” speech or why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t he tell the kid, “I’ve been exactly where you are-on meds that were supposed to help but made me feel like crap plus I couldn’t get it up-but that’s because they take time-you need to take them to get stable and then you’ll find what works for you and have no problems having sex again (since apparently Ian’s never had an issue since beating Mickey up at the dugouts).”  AND the kid’s only 14-does Ian maybe want to advise him that feeling like he needs to be having sex that young to the point where he’s willing to run away and do it with anyone might be part of his symptoms?  

Ian COULD be so helpful here, but no.  At this point he is literally putting at risk kids at even greater risk.  

Later Rando Bic shows Ian that the van’s back behind the church.  Ian says, “Get the kid,” like he’s The Penguin and Bic’s his trusty lieutenant.  It was so dumb.  The kid is used as bait, and when the 3 guys jump out of the van Ian pops up behind the group and starts yelling.  “My god’s a faggot!  My god’s a dyke!  My god is trans, a junkie, a whore!’  Then the van blows up.  “We will not be victims!”  

What the hell is he on about?  That’s a serious question.  None of this is making sense.  God isn’t human, so Ian giving the Christian god human attributes makes no sense.  “We won’t be victims” of WHAT?  Gay conversion?  This kid’s dad said he isn’t trying to convert his gay son.  What is all the yelling and the explosion about?  And to get back to the explosion for a moment: That had to be Ian’s brilliant plan, and it just makes me miss Mickey talking him down from stupid shit like that all the more.  Bic is the one that actually lights the fire (get it?  BIC?) but how did they even know that all 3 guys would get out of the van this time?  Based on the first failed attempt to drive off with the kid, wouldn’t it make more sense that one of the guys would stay at the wheel and keep the van running and they’d take off the minute they shoved the kid inside before all of Ian’s disciples could block it again?   Before I rewatched the scene this morning I actually wondered if the story is going to be Ian is guilty of killing one of the guys, but then I saw it again and all 3 did get out-but I still don’t think Bic could’ve seen them from where he snuck around to light it up.  And I bet we don’t see Bic again-he was randomly thrown in because of course Terror wouldn’t have helped Ian carry out any plan that wasn’t his own.  But it’s funny that they couldn’t have him in the episode because everyone, even the shitty writers, know there’s no way Terror could talk Ian out of it like Mickey would be able to.   

In the scenes for next week, Terror shows up and asks, “Is Ian around?” and Debbie answers, “He’s not here.”  Terror says, “There’s a warrant out for his arrest.”  Wouldn’t the cops have gone to Ian’s house FIRST?  Where would they have even found Terror to be asking about Ian since Ian doesn’t officially work for the Youth Center or the Church of Gay Jesus.  More lazy writing, can’t wait for the whimpering end to this crapfest of a season.  

[sapphicscholar]

Literally just Halloween fluff to make up for what I've heard was a shitshow of an episode (though I won't see it until tomorrow night, so please no spoilers!) Pairings: Sanvers, Supercorp, Scholsen, and Lucy/Vasquez (don't know a name for them..) because fuck it, I want all the cute gay pairings

A/N: Happy Halloween! Also, heyyy, I’m back! Thanks for the patience and best wishes for the exam! It…well, it happened. Fun story: walking into the room, I over heard one of the women who was waiting to take the Math GRE Subject Test whisper to her friend, “Oh god, those are the lit kids. They’re the only ones with more of a curve than we get because the test is so hard almost everyone fails.” Cool, cool, cool, thanks for the fun vote of confidence!

I’m still pausing on the new prompts because I want to catch up so I don’t have the queue hanging over my head, but asks on Tumblr are open since I’m more than happy to answer questions/brainstorm ideas that may or may not end up in future fic/generally chat about random shit. This one was not prompted, but I liked the idea, so I ran with it for a short fluffy one-shot. I’ll get a Tumblr post up sometime soon with a master list of all of my Halloween fics, one of which may not go up until later this week…

Chapter Text

“Where’s my gun?” Maggie yelled from the living room.

“You don’t need it tonight!” Alex called back, her voice slightly breathy as she forced her foot into her tall boots.

“Not the real one—the toy one! For my costume!”

“Oh. Uh…I think it’s in the closet.”

“Spent enough time in there to know,” Maggie mumbled, laughing when Alex’s retort came back almost instantly: “I couldn’t hear the specifics, but I’m sure it was rude!”

As Maggie rooted through the closet, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist as Alex’s breath was suddenly hot against her neck. “Need a hand? I’ve been told I have quite the reach.”

Laughing, Maggie spun in Alex’s arms, her breath catching at the sight of Alex’s red and black spandex suit, the telltale yellow “i” emblazoned on her chest. “Well, hello there, Elastigirl.”

“Eyes back in your head, Sawyer. Tonight we have to be appropriate for the kiddos.”

“Only until 9…”

Smiling even as she shook her head, Alex leaned in and kissed Maggie softly. “C’mon, Jessie, let’s find your cowboy hat and your gun and get your cute little butt down to CatCo.”

“My cute little but would definitely prefer to stay here with you and that spandex suit.”

“Wasn’t this whole thing your idea?”

“With Kara, and I’m totally sure should could handle it on her own…”

“Nope. You two are finally getting along well, and I’m not about to jeopardize that for sex.”

“What if I promise to—”

Alex cut her off with a finger to the lips and a stern shake of the head. She might have more self-control than most, but there was only so much she could resist, and when Maggie took it upon herself to verbalize all the things she wanted to do to Alex—well, all bets were off. “I’ll get your gun and the candy. You find your hat and my mask.”

“Roger that, Elastigirl.”

“Is this going to go on all night?”

“You betcha.”

One heated makeout that left the car windows fogged and costumes slightly askew later they finally made their way into CatCo, waving as they caught sight of Kara dashing to and fro in full Supergirl attire as she put the finishing touches on the decorations for their alien-friendly Halloween. When Maggie had mentioned over dinner one night that there was often an uptick in instances of anti-alien attacks on Halloween as too many young off-worlders attempted to go out—gills and tentacles and blue skin on display, assuming it was the one night a year they could be themselves—only to find themselves found out as “real” aliens and subjected to the anti-alien hostilities Cadmus and the like continued to stir up, Kara had been quick to jump into action, intent on finding a safe way for the aliens who, unlike her, didn’t have the privilege of blending in to celebrate the holiday like the other kids their age. After one short meeting with James and Lena and two slightly longer meetings with J’onn and Maggie’s captain about ensuring the support of local law enforcement, Kara was off and running to plan CatCo’s first “All-Inclusive Halloween Extravaganza.”

Kara, Maggie, and M’gann had worked together to find the closest approximation to sweets from all different planets (as well as to mark anything that could be toxic to certain species), to come up with a whole host of games and activities, and to promote the event to local kids. Alex had to admit, she was beyond impressed with the results. The entire first floor of CatCo had been transformed. A string of cubicles was now a row of activity booths, including face painting, bobbing for apples, and painting mini pumpkins, while the entire back section of the floor had become a haunted house run by Winn and Vasquez, who had worked together to rig up animatronic ghouls, sound systems, and motion sensor-activated surprises.

With another half hour until the kids started arriving, Alex carried their candy over to the sweets table where James and Lena were busy sorting and labeling everything—both of them more than a little concerned about potential lawsuits from leaving anything that could be lethal or toxic unlabeled.

“Cute costume,” James commented. “Didn’t want to go the couples route?”

“Nah, she doesn’t quite have the size to pull off a Mr. Incredible costume. And I wasn’t about to dress up as Woody and match her.”

“Buzz Lightyear?” Lena suggested, stifling a laugh at Alex’s unamused expression.

“I prefer a bit of flexibility in my costumes.”

“Ah yes, the DEO catsuit—but now in red!” James teased, earning a glare from Alex.

“You’re talking a big game for a man in spandex himself.”

“You can’t go wrong with the Superman route…”

“Excuse me, I think you could have killed it as Supergirl too,” Lena chimed in, twirling slightly in her skirt, stopping only when she noticed the real Supergirl frozen in place, mouth hanging open. With a wink and a small wave to her girlfriend, Lena turned her attention back to Alex, not missing the protective big sister scowl. “So! The candy.”

Figuring she could be generous for the holiday, Alex indulged the digression and turned her attention back to sorting the sweets.

Across the room, Lucy strolled in with a few of the other DEO agents there to make sure nothing happened to ruin the fun night for the kids.

“What are you, Luce?” Kara asked, assessing the totally unmarked black spandex suit paired with black heels.

Lucy gestured at the furry ears on her headband and rolled her eyes, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m a cat. Duh.”

“A very sexy cat,” Vasquez added, wrapping her arms around Lucy and pulling her in for a kiss.

“Don’t get your night of the living dead makeup on me!” Lucy squealed, though her laugh and indulgent smile gave her away.

“C’mon, let your undead zombie bride carry you through the door of the haunted house.”

“I feel like that’s seven years of bad luck…”

“Nah, I won’t break any mirrors.”

Kara chuckled as Vasquez bent at the knees and easily scooped Lucy up into her arms bridal style, whisking her across the room and leaving Kara to direct the DEO agents to different areas of the floor.

---

After a few quiet minutes while Kara anxiously paced around, peering out the door in the hopes that someone would arrive, local families slowly began trickling in, the young aliens mingling with the human children of some of National City’s prominent alien rights advocates as their parents gathered at the cider table to chat. Within half an hour, the floor was crowded, and the sound of laughter and squeals from inside the haunted house filled the air, mingling with the Halloween soundtrack Lucy had prepared for the occasion, letting the occasional Rocky Horror song slip in among the kids tunes.

“You proud of the event?” Alex asked, sidling up next to Maggie and handing over a cup of the cider she’d spiked just a bit.

“Yeah, I think it’s going well,” Maggie offered with a small shrug of her shoulders.

“Ugh, why is it that you’re only a cocky shit at home.”

“Cause you love it when I’m a cocky shit in the bedroom,” Maggie teased.

Blushing slightly, Alex swatted at Maggie’s upper arm. “Just take credit for the damn event, Sawyer. It’s a huge success.”

“Yeah? Yeah, it kind of is.”

“Definitely is.”

---

Across the room, James made his way over to the haunted house, having left the treat table in Kara and Lena’s very capable hands, hoping they wouldn’t distract one another too much. “How’s my little master of ceremonies doing?” James asked, draping an arm across Winn’s shoulders.

“Master of horror, master of gore—c’mon, let me have a cool title.”

“Is Man in the Van not cool enough for you?” James teased. Seeing the small pout on Winn’s face, he pulled out the caramel apple he’d brought over. “Make it better?”

“A little.”

“What if I offered to go through the haunted house with you?”

“It’s not fun when we both know what’s going to happen,” Winn reasoned, though he’d been dying to take James out to the truly creepy warehouse-turned-haunted house in downtown National City since it opened.

“What if I told you that I asked Vasquez to rig up a few horrors that you don’t know about?”

“Well, then, I might just say you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“Only a might?”

“Let’s see how it goes first,” Winn stipulated, though the poorly concealed grin gave him away, and he excitedly grabbed James hand and dragged him over to the entrance as soon as Vasquez was all set up.

By the time they made it out, Winn was in James’ arms and even James looked like he had seen a ghost. “What the hell, Vasquez? I thought we had a deal!”

“The deal was to scare the crap out of Winn. I did that, didn’t I?” Vasquez gestured at the way Winn had wrapped himself around James like a koala bear.

“But I didn’t tell you to scare me too!”

“Who says it was intentional?” Vasquez asked, trying and failing to look innocent.

“Lucy told you, didn’t she?”

“Told her what?” Lucy asked, popping into the conversation.

“About how he’s super scared of mice,” Vasquez announced, drawing a loud laugh from Lucy who nodded gleefully.

“So how’d you get Winn that scared? I thought he was supposed to be all master of horror tonight.”

“Oh, Winn here is terrified of the Joker…just threw in that signature laugh and a few choice holograms and boom—instant koala bear.”

“It’s a perfectly legitimate fear,” Winn pouted as he let himself be lowered to the ground.

“Sure it is.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyway, I’ve gotta head back over to the music, but I’m about to give a little dance lesson to the grown ups on how to do the Time Warp so I suggest you close your haunted house for the night.” With a small mock salute, Lucy turned and strutted back over to the makeshift dance floor.

“I’m not gonna miss watching you pelvic thrust, babe,” Vasquez called after Lucy, hopping out of the control seat to follow her across the room.

“Sure you already get plenty of that at home…” Winn trailed off, smiling impishly at Vasquez, who had rounded on him.

“You know Danvers isn’t the only one who knows six very painful ways to kill you with her index finger, right, Schott?”

“Psh, you’ll never be as scary as the Joker! Good try!”

“I can project the Joker hologram into your bedroom when you least expect it,” Vasquez threatened.

“Shutting up now.”

“Good idea.”

From across the room, they heard Lucy announce over the microphone: “It’s time for the Time Warp, and if I don’t see Superman, Captain Kirk, Jessie, Elastigirl, Supergirl 1, Supergirl 2, and Zombie Bride out on the dance floor, they’re gonna be joining me on stage to teach you all the dance!”

Within moments, the entire Superfriends crew had materialized on the dance floor, leaving M’gann and J’onn, who had arrived late after a quick patrol as Supergirl, to play the responsible adults at the snack table. As the opening chords rang out through the speakers, Alex felt Maggie’s hand squeezing her own.

“What’s that for?”

“I love you. I love this. I love our weird little family, you know?”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

“I can see you two lovebirds not stepping to the left!” Lucy yelled, her gaze trained on Alex and Maggie. “Would you like to come up here and help me demonstrate the moves?”

With a laugh and a middle finger that Maggie hastily knocked down before any of the kids could see, Alex let herself be pulled into the routine.

[sdog1blog]

Susan

Danny had left a message with my roommate that he had the guitar and would have it at the shop. The guitar, a Gibson J45 was a model that I'd been chasing, so I was interested, that he believed it was from the 1940's piqued my interest.

Susan had spent the night with me and I asked if she wanted to join me, warning her that Danny worked in a porn shop. She shrugged indicating that was not a big deal, but she wanted to stop at the house she was crashing at to shower and change clothes. So off we went.

I waited in the van, while Susan took care of her hygiene. This was Minneapolis in July of 1980 and the house was a crash pad for left over hippies and misfits that were what was left of the 60's counterculture. I preferred to keep my distance.

Waiting, gave me a chance to ruminate on Susan. We had met a month before, she had just landed in town or maybe it was returned to town after having lived in California for a couple years. She had only been here a few days when we met and I'll admit I was smitten. She may have been the only woman who sent a shudder through my body when I touched her. I had it bad, but there was something about her that bothered me.

To start with, she was pretty vague about where she was from, saying only it was New Jersey and Delaware, why she originally came to Minneapolis and what she did in California. When I say vague, I mean at times she was even evasive.

I looked up to see Susan coming down the walk, I licked my lips in appreciation. She had fixed her reddish-blond hair in the usual pixie bob, a colorful halter top over cutoff jeans that showed just an inch of her ass cheeks all supported by those lovely, long legs on platform sandals. She'd give the regulars at the porn shop an image to masturbate to in the video booths. And looking back, I bet she knew it.

The porn shop Danny worked at was at 5th and Hennepin on the street level of the Lumber Exchange building, a Victorian era survivor. I don't remember who owned the porn shop, it was probably Ferris Alexander, who owned several similar business in the Twin Cities. It was across the street from a couple of the cities oldest gay bars, so the clientele tended to be gay, often seeking anonymous sex.

Before leaving my house, I called my local Gibson guitar expert, who gave me information on what to look for on vintage J45's and importantly, what would be the rough range for the serial numbers. Danny's guitar played well and sounded great, but it wasn't vintage, it was probably 10 years old. It was beat up, lots of pick scratches and the odd ding in the wood, but no real damage, just a well used instrument.

Given that Danny was the seller, it didn't surprise me that the goods, didn't fit the description. Danny reminded me of a friend of my father���s, Chuck. Chuck like Danny were perpetrators of the small con, they never lied, but they'd lead you down a path and like Chuck, Danny always had something interesting to sell.

When we were kids, if one of us wanted something, a TV, a stereo or as teens, something for our cars, Dad would say, he'd talk to Chuck. Chuck being one of those guys who sold merchandise out the trunk of his car, the car always being a several years old Cadillac. The stuff was stolen of course, but you didn't ask questions. Once when I was fresh mouthed teen, my mother told dad that she needed a new refrigerator, he offered his Chuck line, to which I snarkly replied, “Yeah he probably got one in his trunk”. The old man had been drinking and in a bad mood, so it shouldn't have been a surprise when he cuffed me with the back of his hand across my face, the phony ruby ring he wore, opening a crescent shape gash in my cheek. A scar that a surprising number of girls have found sexy. Go figure.

Both Danny and I are from north of Boston and when we met, we both engaged in the game of what city. I guessed that he was from Medford or Malden so I asked him to say Medford, it came out as Mefford, I smiled. It took him a bit longer to figure me out as I has spent the years since high school suppressing my accent. But given a few beers the dese, dems and doses of mill city Merrimack Valley came pouring out. Yeah, Lawrence, but more specifically identifying South Lawrence in a futile attempt to distinguish my origins from the rest of that decrepit place. But Danny could see through that.

While I wandered to Minneapolis after college in search of a fertile music scene away from my family, Danny came earlier when his mother remarried and moved the family to her husband's home in Worthington. To get to Worthington, you go out to Bum F@ck Egypt and take a right. Danny was 15 then and bolted to the Twin Cities right after high school.

Danny's reaction to Susan coming through the door was predictable, he straightened up, wiped the bread crumbs from his chin, brushed off his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair, all in an attempt for him to look presentable. While I looked over the guitar he flirted with Susan, playing Johnny the Dunce and asking her lots of questions, often repeating the same ones, all punctuated with him saying, "we've met before, haven't we" and "where do I know you from?"

After playing the guitar for about 15 minutes, I told Danny, that it was a nice instrument, but I needed to think about it. But I had already decided not to get it.

Out on the sidewalk, I commented to Susan, that it seemed that she and Danny had hit off. She allowed he was kind of cute and a pest. That made me laugh and I followed up with, "Well do you know him from somewhere?" Her denial wasn't completely convincing, just before the no was to leave her lips, her eyes, that were meeting mine, darted away.

Danny called a day or so later, he had another buyer, but wanted give me last dibs, i.e., he wanted to see if I would pay more. Before we hung up, he started, "Ya know, but the way. That chick, the one you were with." "Susan?" I interjected. "Ya her" he replied, "I know'd, I know'd her from some place." I didn't respond and let him continue. "After youse left, I browsed through a few magazines and there she was in the centerfold of Ass Magic, taking a big old dick up the shit pipe." "How can you be sure that the girl in magazine was her?" I asked. He came back with "Oh it's her. I bet she has a small tatoo, maybe a star, about the size of a quarter near her pussy, just to left of her pubes. She also likes suckin cock."

Susan did have a small tattoo on her pelvis, though it was the symbol for anarchy not a star. She did like giving blowjobs, when we first slept together she played with the tip of my cock with her tongue occasionally, sliding down my dick. For a moment she stopped and looked at me mischievously and said, "I have no gag reflex," then consumed me. She swallowed the jizz as well. But anal, no, every time I tried the backdoor, she'd wave me off.

I filed Danny's report in my mind along with her surprise announcement a couple of weeks earlier that she was going to take a few shifts at Augie's to supplement the secretarial work she took from a temp agency. There was more to my lovely friend than met the eye.

In those days I made my living as a musical Paladin, Have Guitar, Will Travel so to speak. Plus banjo, fiddle, bass, mandolin, piano, pretty much if it had strings, I played it. Rock, jazz, blues, country, bluegrass, it didn't matter. What was the progression, which key and hum me a few bars for the melody and I was ready.

Most players I knew formed a band and headed out on the road. Been there, done that and hated it. So I eked out a living sitting in with bands who were missing a player, some solo acoustic work on the folk circuit and serving as a band member for faded rock and country acts who no longer could afford to take a group on the road. Add to that, a bit of session work, mostly commercial work tied to TV and radio advertising and I made a living. After a while I stopped worrying about where the next dollar would come from and just knew that it would come. I was also pretty smug that I'd manage to scrape together enough money to put a down payment on a little house on the wrong side of the tracks in So. Minneapolis, something my friends couldn't dream about.

The following Tuesday, I sat in with a blues band at the Cabooze. Kate, who headlined the band was touted in the local music press as someone who should be the next Janis Joplin. It, if, she only got a chance. Well there were reasons Kate wouldn't go pass being a regional name, but it was impolite to discuss them. Anyway that week she was in tough position as she was missing 2 band members and had firm gigs in the next fourteen days.

Tommy, her lead guitarist, had turned himself into detox and would be spending the next two or three weeks at Hazelden, trying to get straight. Tom was a good guy and while it took about five or so attempts, he finally conquered his demons and was sober for nearly twenty years before he was killed riding home from work on his bicycle by a drunk driver. Cal, her drummer was sitting in the county jail unable to make bail after being arraigned for raping a fifteen year old, he went away for a long time. For me, I had eight paydays coming and a girlfriend with whom I was love struck. Life was good.

Before the show, a friend, Kevin, came by to show me a guitar he just bought, it was the J45 and it was of 1940's vintage he raved. Kev was a bit naive, I chose not to break his bubble. Later when Danny showed up, I confronted him about the lie and he shrugged saying, "people will believe what they want to believe," looked hard at me and walked away.

We started at 9, the crowd was small, but by the end of the set, respectable for a Tuesday and there was energy in the house, Kate could rock. At sets end, the substitute drummer and I headed for the bar, while the rest of the band went off chasing white lines.

Before my beer arrived, Susan came out of the crowd followed by a friend, who's name I didn't catch. I knew she wouldn't be staying as this was a dancing night and I'd pick her up at close. I and every other guy watched her leave, it was those legs and the tight, slut length mini dress, we were entranced. After they left, a guy who drives a cab, mentioned that the other woman looked an awful lot like a hooker that he'd driven around the previous week.

Augie's is also on 5th and Hennepin, across from the Lumber exchange building. Hennepin was a one-way then, heading toward the river with lane for buses and cabs going in the other direction

I came down 5th and was caught at the light. She was waiting in front of the club, the Augie's bouncers standing out front chatting with the bouncers from the Brass Rail. She saw me flash the headlights and walked the 50 or so feet to the corner. She got in, we kissed and I asked her where she wanted to go. "I'm hungry," was her response. "Mama's OK," I asked and she nodded affirmatively.

Breakfast at Mama's was on Riverside, just off Cedar on the West Bank. It opened at midnight, on the weekends, after the bars closed, the line would stretch around the building, But on a Wednesday morning getting a table was easy.

We got home around 2:30 and she went right to bed and by the time I went to join her, she was sleeping like a baby. "So much for a bit of nooky," I thought. Not really tired, I poured a glass of brandy, rolled a joint and went out on the porch. Being alone, in the dark started me thinking, about her of course. What I knew and the new info, that she worked in porn. Also there were other photo shoots and movies in which she appeared, and the possible hooker friend. That last snippet of information was making me paranoid. The coming weekend, I'd be playing with Kate's band in the far northwest suburbs, while Susan would be dancing at Augie's on Thursday and Friday, and then on Saturday working a private party with the suspected hooker.

A couple of years earlier, I'd sworn off stripper girlfriends due to the drama they were bringing into my life. Probably because I had a defective selection procedure, the dancers I dated were emotional toxic waste dumps. Susan wasn't that, but I suspected something that would have been worse, that she was emotionally hardened.

The previous week, I was to meet her at the end of her shift at Augie's after I finished playing a recording session at a nearby studio. The session had gone sideways, when one member of the duo what we were backing showed up too stoned to work. So I went by the club a couple of hours early.

Augie's opened in the mid 40's as a caberet and night club, at some point strippers were added, then the live music faded away and the strippers were what was left. In the early 80's the interior seemed quite like it must have been in the dives hey day. As you came in to the right, was the bar and in the back corner a stage that connected to the back bar and the main bar allowing the dancers to walk up the bar if they chose. In the center, there were tables, but it was once a dance floor and to the left small tables were arranged on risers, each row a bit higher than the one in front.

I entered as she was finishing her stage set, collecting her money and disappearing into the dressing room. The bar stool, closest the street was empty, so I took it. She came out a few minutes later to work the room, having changed to a sheer nightie and a g-string.

She didn't notice me as I watched her work the room. This was in the days before private rooms for lap dances. Working the room consisted of a few things, table dances, company, sitting with a guy and letting him paw you and convincing the mark to buy a $3 bottle of champagne for $30, for which the dancer received half.

She had told me she had never danced before and I'd believed her. But watching her work that night I began to doubt her. She was simply, to efficient and cold. While most of the girls would look away when groped, Susan could look them straight in the eye and smile as some loser felt her up. She sold a lot of champagne.

I was convincing myself that I should enjoy the ride while it lasted but not to become to invested.

Epilogue

A couple of months later, Susan announced she was going back to LA for a while, but would be back. She was gone about a year, when I got a call from her asking if I could pick her up at the airport and could she stay with me till she found a place of her own.

I'd very recently had begun dating a woman, a nice stable person with a normal professional day job. I asked her if she minded, I won’t say she didn’t but didn’t make a scene. We'd eventually marry and she still puts up with me.

Susan stayed with me for about a week and she was clear she had no interest in rekindling our romance. She had set her sights on marrying a doctor and got a secretarial job at a local hospital to facilitate it. She was successful, a nice guy but it lasted only a few years. After that she began meowing and scratching at my door again.

Mostly, but not entirely could I resist her and then she went off and found another husband, who either ignored her behavior or was willfully blind. I guess they're still together.  Susan drifted in and out of my life for about 20 years till we had another falling out and I decided to say good riddance.

Danny married one of the girls who worked the peep show, moved to the burbs and had a couple of kids. He left the porn shop and took a job selling cars. He was good at it and eventually opened a used car lot of his own. But larceny and Danny ran in tandem and he was busted for title washing and dealing in stolen cars.

While on Covid-19 lock down, I was browsing a vintage porno tube and low and behold came across an orgy scene that featured her. There was no credit, but using the name of the star(s) I found several more. It seemed her specialty was blowjobs, anal and gang bangs. Never could find a stage name, but she showed up in a few dozen clips. Her memory triggered the urge to write this down.

[fatgirlsguidetodating]

Blog: The one that got away part 1.

Everyone has their story of “the one that got away.” I’m not sure it’s entirely possible but I’ve got two “ones that got away.” One was my fault, the other less so. Ironically they both had the same name too- just spelt differently, one with a ph in the middle, one with a v.

S with a V was the first. I was 22-23 when I met him at work. My experience with men up until then had been terrible. My first love, the first man I had slept with, had pretty much fucked me up for a few years and I was still feeling those effects. At the time I had feelings for a guy C, I’d worked with before S, but it was never going to go anywhere. He hated the idea of marriage and kids and even thought me wanting a new car was materialistic. But he and I had many intellectual debates and ended up at the same uni. I stayed at his place a few times but nothing ever happened. In hindsight this is a good thing! (Irony: J, C and S all worked for the same company along with me just in different stores. Talk about keeping it in the pizza family.)

S, however, was in a relationship. It was his first, and only, girlfriend from when they were about 15ish. (He ended up marrying her.) And it was, to put it mildly, a pretty turbulent relationship. They fought all the time and he confided in me quickly as we clicked instantly when working together. We both had the same wacky sense of humour and in between deliveries we would sit and chat. On slow nights I might go out with him on a close delivery or vice versa to chat more. He confided in me about his girlfriend. Some of the things he told me made me look at him askance; how the fuck was he still with a girl who got jealous if he even made a female friend yet she went to a party where they played spin the bottle and she pashed a few guys and when he got shitty about it she turned it back on him and somehow he became the one in trouble? She was forever cracking the shits at him for no reason whatsoever. When she would ring him he wouldn’t know if she was going to be nice or she was going to abuse him for some imagined problem. She was forever out partying, drinking and doing drugs. He was at uni, she worked as a waitress and I think was doing a TAFE course. Because we got along so well we would often chat after work and then he’d head home and if she was there she would go nuts because she thought we were shagging. I remember something he said once- “at least if we were I’d know you were sane and I’d not be in the shits all the time with a schizo girlfriend.” I just sort of laughed it off but that night, back home, I realised I had a bit of a crush on him.

To counter that I’d spend more time with C, the guy I had feelings for. My friends often joked that maybe C was gay when he’d had me in his bed a few times with no reaction. We often went out for drinks. Even though C was a couple of years older than me he was on his P’s because of a drink-driving incident. In his past he had been a bit of a bad boy- alcohol and drugs. But before we met he’d pulled himself together, gone back and finished school, done a tafe course (I can’t remember if it was a certificate or diploma) and had started at my uni. Occasionally he would do things that gave me hints that maybe he liked me- such as putting an arm around me, or rubbing my arm and asking if I was cold, once grabbing my hand when I had cracked the shits with him and saying come stay at mine. But, ultimately, nothing happened. We ended up losing contact maybe three or four years later when he cracked the shits with me for not wanting to go drinking that night even though I explained because of my back surgery sometimes I couldn’t just be so spontaneous. After that he refused to reply to another email. (The days before FB or early days of it but he wouldn’t have had it anyway and I have looked his name up occasionally but not found him.)

But back to the one who got away. He would sometimes kind of flirt with me and I let him because harmless flirting seemed okay. We wanted to have a drinking night one night, as mates, but his girlfriend went apeshit so that got nixxed. Then one morning he rang me at home. We were both working that night (Saturday), me until 9:30, him until 10 or 10:30. I hadn’t seen him since the weekend before and he told me he and the girlfriend had broken up last Sunday. I was like are you okay? He said yeah, it was the right thing to do. And the fact was he had been talking about breaking up for awhile, before he started sometimes flirting with me even. Anyways he was like so wanna have that beer night since she can’t say no. I was off my P’s by then so could have a few without a major issue driving but he’s like you can crash here. (He was in the caravan at his dad’s house.) I was like oh okay, why not. (There were probably plenty of reasons why not truth be told!) The topic of the girlfriend came up again- I can’t remember how or why- but I *do* remember him saying something like but that’s okay you can give me a hug tonight right? I was like sure.

So I finished work but I went on S’s deliveries with him and we chatted and when finished I followed him home. We had a beer and then went to his brother’s house for a bit (with my hash cookies) and then back to his. We were just sitting around chatting and drinking beer. There may have been a little flirting but not a lot. When suddenly the girlfriend turns up. She’s here for “her stuff” after the concert she had been to that night (it was one of those slightly psychedelic rock bands from the late 1990’s, a band I remember I liked back in high school like three odd years before). Seeing me she said “replaced me already?” I was quick to say “no!” S was just watching while she grabbed a few things and then she went out the van and he followed her. He was out there awhile, I was sitting drinking my beer thinking okay I haven’t drank too much it may be better to go home. So when he came back in as she left I said “maybe I should go.” “Please don’t.” Was his reply. So I didn’t.

We kept sitting on the bed drinking beer, listening to music or watching tv and chatting. At some point in this he said to me, “so where’s my hug?” Hence we ended up half lying half sitting for awhile with our arms around each other, only moving when I finished the end of my beer. (One should never ever leave beer in the bottle, this is a philosophy I live by to this day!) After that he lay down and was like come on, so I did too. I was on the inside (next to the wall of the caravan), facing the wall and he was lying behind me, facing me, his arms around me. We lay like that for awhile. Then at some point I became aware of him moving his body closer to mine. And I would then reciprocate and do the same. Anyway next thing you know he’d rolled us over and he was lying on top of me kissing me. We made out for awhile, he spent some quality time with my boobs and another part of my body. For some insane reason I said to him I didn’t want to have actual sex. He’s like that’s okay, can we still fool around? I said yes. So we continued. Whilst this was happening we had a shock thinking his ex was back so my clothes were quickly fixed. It wasn’t, it wasn’t anyone. By then I had to go the toilet and we went inside and went the toilet and came back out.

We had another beer and then he started kissing me again. He said how much I turned him on and how gorgeous I was. I said dude you haven’t even had that much beer or hash cookies! He laughed and said no, you are, let me show you how much and placed my hand on his work pants covered erection. Im not big on talking too much about sexual details- even with mates to a degree unless I’ve had a few lol- but I will say he got a BJ.

Then we got ready for bed. I turned my back to him to put my pjs on (. my yellow flannelette ones with I believe teddies or dogs on them). Whilst doing this he asked me “The Question.” The one I regret answering how I did to this very day! He asked it casually but I think kind of hopefully, “but you don’t want a relationship do you?” “Nope.” I said. “Damn.” He said. ‘Damn!’ I thought. Why the fuck had I just lied and told the guy I had a major crush on that I didn’t want to be with him when I did? I have analysed that lie a few times over the years. One theory I came up with was I lied because he may have ended up back with his ex and I would have looked like an idiot but my prevailing theory is that I lied because I didn’t know what he was going to say and I may have looked like a total fuckwit! If I had known he would say that I would have told the truth. But I couldn’t take it back.

He slept on the floor that night rather than in the bed with me because he thought it would make the girlfriend feel better if that was the case and they got back together though he did say he wouldn’t take her back because what she had done was fucked. (He did tell me what she had done and how the breakup had gone down but I can’t remember the details now.)

In the morning we went inside to get breakfast (I just had a coffee cos of my whole not eating in front of people especially those I have crushes on policy), and I met his Dad, his Dad’s new (younger) wife and the one or two kids. I remember chatting with the kids for awhile and them wanting to show me toys. When I left he gave me a hug, said he’d see me at work Weds but we would email before then.

We did email. He told me his brother told him he really liked me, like better than he did his ex. He said he spoke to the ex once but nothing came of it. That weds I was nervous going to work. It was the firs time i would see him after what had happened. Would it be be awkward? But when we first saw each other- maybe twenty odd minutes into my shift- he acted like he always did. We were pretty busy so it was awhile before we got a chance to talk when we both got back from deliveries at the same time. And he mentioned “the girlfriend.” My heart literally dropped but I managed to keep a straight face as he told me he went over there the night before; he gave her a bunch of flowers, she gave him a ten second blow job. (10 seconds- either dude has no stamina or she has pornstar skills?!) I was like oh, cool. But the first chance I got alone I sat in my car with my head on the steering wheel and had a little cry. And then told myself well it was my own fucking fault for lying!

After that we went back to being friends and while he seemed the same I pulled back a little, talked about C more, not wanting to seem at all pathetic to him, not wanting him to think I was pining away for him, or to know I had shed more than a few tears on his behalf. We worked together for awhile longer before I left. He was sad when I left and said he’d miss working with me, I said you can email me? And we were Facebook friends on and off for a few years. I saw him one day, the year after I’d left, at the train station in the city. His Uni was near there and I’d started going to Melbourne Uni. I could have said hi. I didn’t. I slowly melted back into the crowd and was glad his train came next.

Like I said he married the girlfriend, they’ve got a few kids together. She clearly grew up and stopped being the partying slut she was (but hey isn’t that what our late teens/early twenties are for??).

If I’d said yes to The Question would life have been different? Would we have had a relationship? Would we have lasted? Would he have ended up with her? I’ll never know…..

Fatgirl.

P.S This turned out a lot longer than I’d expected which is why I’m going to do S with a PH next as a separate entry.

[wildandrunning]

02: Say You’ll Haunt Me

Andy stared at his overstuffed suite case. Nearly all of his belongings were jammed inside, everything he needed for the next two months was in there. The singer sat down on his mattress, looking around his room. Two months of having his legs cramped inside those little bunks, of living off gas station food and cigarettes. At least this tour they actually had a bus instead of that godforsaken van. 

‘I should be grateful’ he thought to himself. Here he was living his dream, but all he could do was worry. It was a lot harder than he’d anticipated though. As much as he hated his life in Ohio, he sort of missed it. Things were moving so fast here. It felt like all the fans, fame and attention came about overnight. Granted the band was still reasonably small, it was still a shock. 

There was constant pressure to be perfect. All the fans expect this superhero Andy ‘Six’ character. That person wasn’t real. Whenever Andy was on stage, he was this larger than life figure, no fear, no self-doubt, full of confidence... The truth was that he was drowning. Drowning in all the press, pressure and criticism. It seemed like every day there was a new article out about how Black Veil Brides was nothing more than a wannabe KISS band. The young boy never expected the hatred that would get. 

It was just like high school with all the names that were thrown at him. Everyone was waiting for him to fail and they would all laugh and say ‘I told you so’ when it happened. How did people deal with this? Of course, he knew the answer, in his short time in Hollywood he’d found the answer. Drugs, alcohol, sex, all things that led to self-destruction. 

“Andy you in there?” Ash knocked on the door. 

“Oh yeah, um just finishing up packing,” he responded as the bassist walked in. 

“You alright?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Mhm..” Andy forced a smile. Oh, you know just having second thoughts about my entire life plan because I’m not sure I’m strong enough to do this he thought. 

“Well, are you ready? The bus is going to be here any minute, and if you want to pick your bunk before the rest of the guys, I suggest you get your ass down there.” 

---

The last row, bottom left. That was where he’d sleep for two whole months. Andy sighed and threw his stuff in. At least there was a private lounge area in the back of the bus. He wished he knew before committing to life on the road how poorly he did in buses. He’d never had car sickness before, but an entire tour in a cramped van sure did him in. So sleeping while the bus was in motion was out of the question, but maybe he could get in some writing in the back. 

The rest of the band was up front, figuring out how to work the flat screen. Ashley had already broken out the liquor to celebrate. Andy felt out of place up there, what fun was watching his friends get drunk? 

“Andy! Get your ass up here and come do a shot ya’ pussy!” CC yelled from up front. 

The singer rolled his eyes before making his way up front. CC shoved a shot glass overflowing with whiskey into Andy’s hand. “Join in.” 

“Uh... no thanks.”  “Ah come on man, what’s one shot. We’re finally on a major tour, we’ve got to celebrate” Jake encouraged. 

Andy looked at the golden liquid. He’d drank before, just once when he was 13. He’d gone to a party (not one he was invited to of course) and gotten super drunk on cheap beer. He’d been so eager to impress the ‘cool’ kids that he just started slamming beers, the whole night was a blackout. What he did remember was puking his guts up the next morning. Not exactly something he’d enjoyed. 

“Really. I’m fine.” he insisted, handing the shot back. 

“I’m gonna get you drunk on this tour, mark my words.” CC laughed, nudging the singer. 

“I don’t know, I kind of respect that Andy doesn’t drink. Now if only you’d quit that nasty habit of smoking.” Ashley added in, coming to his defense. 

Jake, Jinxx, CC, and Ash all clinked their glasses together before downing the first shot of tour. Two months.. let’s go. 

--

Ashley paced around the front of the bus, absentmindedly watching the street lights zip by. He had no idea what time it was, but it was late. The rest of the guys had retired to their bunks, but he stayed up. Tomorrow was the first show, one of many. He was excited, the thrill of the stage was something he’d missed. This tour was important, more so than any of the guys understood. If they could do well, then things would only go up from here. 

If they could prove that they could do this, then maybe their chances of making it big time could become a reality. A few shows had already sold out, that was a good sign. Black Veil had to show that they could pack venues. 

The band had a good sized fan base, but they were still seen as nothing more than a couple dudes in makeup and women’s clothes. Which, while true didn’t mean they couldn’t actually play as well.  

No use worrying about it now, time would tell.. better to get some rest. He walked back into the bunk area, his bunk was directly across from Andy’s. Speaking of which, Andy’s bunk was wide open and empty. 

A light was seeping out from under the door that led to the lounge. He pressed the door, cracking it open slightly. Andy was sitting on the couch, hunched over with his head in his hands. 

“Andy..?”

The younger boy jumped at the sound of his voice, quickly wiping at his eyes. His black makeup was smeared in faint trails down his pale cheeks. He’d clearly been crying. 

“Are you okay? What are you doing up?” Ashley asked, closing the door behind him. 

“I’m f-fine, I’m just... I can’t sleep I guess.” his normally confident voice was shaky and broken. 

Ashley walked over to the boy, carefully sitting down next to him. Andy looked away, hiding behind a veil of jet black hair. The bassist shifted his weight awkwardly. Emotions were never something he was good with, and if he’d learned anything about Andy, it was that he had a lot of them. 

Andy seemed to feel everything intensely. 

“Come on kid what’s wrong? Did something happen?” After a few moments of silence, he finally responded.  “What if I can’t do it...” Andy whispered. 

“Can't-do what?” “All of it. What if I can’t live this life, what if I fail?” Andy looked over at the man next to him, his powder blue eyes were red from crying. 

“Aw Andy.. of course, you can. You’ve made it a hell of a lot farther than most people do. We’re on a headlining tour, we’re making it.”  “I know that, but what if I can’t handle it?”  “You’re strong, of course, you’ll be able to,” Ashley assured him. 

Andy bit his tongue. He wanted to trust Ashley, to tell him everything he’d been hiding inside. He barely knew the man though, and he didn’t want Ashley to feel like he’d taken a chance on him for nothing. The truth was that Ashley’s fate was riding on his being able to keep it together as well. Andy knew this was about more than just him, four other people’s careers were at stake. Which only made him feel worse...

“Look, I know this is probably stressful. It’s a lot to take in, but you’ll be fine. Plus you’re not doing it alone. You’ve got the guys and me.” Ashley hoped that the kid would snap out of it, this was just the first night. It’s probably all nerves. 

Andy nodded, looking down at his lap. Ashley looked the boy over, how could anyone like Andy be so self-doubtful? He was.. breathtaking and talented. He’d seen that kid absolutely command the crowd, he was a natural on stage. Why in the world would he think he couldn’t do it? 

Ashley tilted Andy’s chin up, leaning in close to him. “Hey, if I thought you didn’t have it in you I would have never agreed to do this with you. Okay?” 

Andy bit his lip, “Okay.” he whispered. Ashley stared into the singer’s eyes, fighting back an overwhelming urge to kiss him. 

That was the intention with Andy from the start, that’s why he even gave him the time of day. Ashley had a thing for pretty boys, something he kept secret except for a couple of close friends. Andy was his type. When he first laid eyes on him after finding his ad online, he had every intention of sweet talking him into bed. Just a one night stand, no need to get involved in some kid’s drama. 

Andy had impressed him though, the kid really had something good with his band. Ashley made the ‘business’ decision that he would actually join the band and cross out the one night stand idea. That didn’t stop him from still wanting it though. God, he wanted it... 

Andy rested his forehead against the older man’s. A shiver went down Ashley’s spine as he felt Andy’s breath against his lips. He needed to stop this, now. 

“So it’s settled then. No more doubting yourself, and no more tears.” Ashley said, leaning back and patting Andy on the back.

“Y-Yeah... no more.” Andy stuttered. 

Andy watched Ashley walk out, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. What the hell was that about he asked himself? He really thought that Ashley was about to kiss him, and he was going to let him? Would he let him? 

‘Of course, I wouldn’t let him, I mean that would be gay.. and I’m not’ he thought to himself. Okay, so maybe he had kissed a couple of guys before, but that was just normal teenage experimenting right? He’d had sex with a girl before that meant he couldn’t be gay.. only he’d hated it. The truth was he didn’t enjoy having sex with that girl back in high school, but maybe it was just her. Everyone knew she was loose... 

And yeah maybe he did have some thoughts that involved guys, and maybe he gets off a few times to those thoughts, but that was normal right? He would never actually do any of that in real life. He just hadn’t met the right girl yet, that was all. 

All in all, just another thing that haunted him... 

[avocadosandanxiety]

1-92 😘

..... wasn’t expecting this.

I’m skipping questions I don’t feel like answering

Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

2. You talked to an ex today, correct? Nope

3. Have you taken someones virginity? Yes

4. Is trust a big issue for you? Lol not really

5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently? No

6. What are you excited for? Nothing really

7. What happened tonight?

8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted? No??

9. Is confidence cute? Yeah

10. What is the last beverage you had? Coffee made by @vvanderlustress

11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? Like... 3

12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans? Yesss

13. What are you gonna do Saturday night? Probably sleep

14. What are you going to spend money on next? Rent... then a long board!!

15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed?

16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months? Everyone does

17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything? My therapist 🙃

18. The last time you felt broken?

19. Have you had sex today? Lmao no

20. Are you starting to realize anything? I’m a soft gay bitch that cares too much

21. Are you in a good mood? I guess

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks? Yessss

23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s? Most likely

24. What do you want right this second? Vegetarian meatballs

25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?

26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color? Lol yeah

27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh? No

28. What was the last thing that made you laugh? My cat

29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now? Yup

30. Does everyone deserve a second chance? In some contexts yes

31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to? Lol no

32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do? I hope so

33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda? Generally yes

34. Listening to? Animal crossing music 😊

35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore? Yes

36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is? 🤷🏻‍♀️

37. Do you believe in love at first sight?

38. Who did you last call? My mom

39. Who was the last person you danced with? Oh god... my roommate on New Years??

40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed? Cause smooches

41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake? Monday.

42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today? No

43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush? My entire existence is embarrassing

44. Do you tan in the nude? Nah

45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss? No

46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? No

47. Who was the last person to call you? John!

48. Do you sing in the shower? Depends

49. Do you dance in the car? Uh yeah, @vvanderlustress and I go hard.

50. Ever used a bow and arrow? Yis

51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer? Last summer

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy? No!

53. Is Christmas stressful? Christmas is stupid. Fight me.

54. Ever eat a pierogi? Yes

55. Favorite type of fruit pie? I don’t like pie.

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? A marine biologist 🐬

57. Do you believe in ghosts? Sometimes

58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? Yes

59. Take a vitamin daily? Just my meds

60. Wear slippers? No

61. Wear a bath robe? No

62. What do you wear to bed? Usually the shirt o wore that day and boxers

63. First concert? Hilary Duff 😂

64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? Target

65. Nike or Adidas? Vans

66. Cheetos Or Fritos? I’m a hoe for cheet-hoes

67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? Both??

68. Favorite Taylor Swift song? NOPE

69. Ever take dance lessons? No

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing? Lol future spouse??

71. Can you curl your tongue? Yesss

72. Ever won a spelling bee? No

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy? Yes

74. What is your favorite book? Fahrenheit 451

75. Do you study better with or without music? With

76. Regularly burn incense? No

77. Ever been in love? Yes

78. Who would you like to see in concert? The neighborhood 🥺

79. What was the last concert you saw? Banks!

80. Hot tea or cold tea? Cold

81. Tea or coffee? Coffee

82. Favorite type of cookie? Snickerdoodles

83. Can you swim well? Kinda

84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose? Yes

85. Are you patient? Yes

86. DJ or band, at a wedding? Wedding??

87. Ever won a contest? Yeah

88. Ever have plastic surgery? No

89. Which are better black or green olives? Fuck olives

90. Opinions on sex before marriage? 🤷🏻‍♀️

91. Best room for a fireplace? ????

92. Do you want to get married? Maybe

[jillmckenzie1]

Mercury Rising: Local Movie Reviewer Has Thoughts About Bohemian Rhapsody

My neighbors Jennifer and Paul are absolutely delightful people. Our kids play together, and we’ve made it a point to hang out whenever possible. Paul is a ridiculously talented baker, and Jennifer quietly sabotages the Minnesota Nice caricature with her vicious sense of humor. They’re great…except for one teensy-weensy thing.

A while back, we’re all having dinner together. As they’re from Minnesota, I’m asking questions about the state. Inevitably, the subject of Prince comes up. I mention to them that I’m a big fan of His Purple Majesty. With a sneer, Jennifer responds with, “Prince is so overrated.”

Guys, I was shook.

Look, I get it. Art is subjective, and I guarantee that all of us dislike an artist that’s considered to be in the top tier of entertainers. However, there’s a reason certain artists are considered to be GOATs. Artists like The Beatles. Elvis. Queen. In particular, Queen is a band that everybody likes. Christian conservatives like Queen. Liberal atheists like Queen. The guy who replaced the transmission in your car likes Queen, and the woman who turned you down for a loan likes Queen. That is as it should be.

I asked friends online exactly why Queen remains a beloved and iconic band. I was told their versatility opened the door for other musicians, that Brian May was a fantastically innovative guitarist, and that Freddie Mercury had the greatest rock voice of all time and showmanship that was second to none.* They were a band that truly stood apart, so if you were going to make a movie about them, it would also need to stand apart. Unfortunately, the new film Bohemian Rhapsody does not do that.

It’s the 1970’s, and we’re introduced to young Farrokh Bulsara (Rami Malek), who’s pursuing a career in the exciting and fast-paced world of baggage handling at Heathrow Airport. His family are Parsi refugees, and he’s getting a little tired of dopey white people yelling, “Hey, Paki!” at him all the damn time. There must be more to life than hauling around luggage, and Farrokh is certain he’ll find his true calling.

Conveniently, he finds it in the very next scene! While at a local nightclub, he sees a performance of the band Smile. The lead singer is kind of a drip, which makes the band merely okay. After the show, the lead singer announces that he’s quitting. This is a big bummer for guitarist Brian May (Gwilym Lee) and drummer Roger Taylor (Ben Hardy). The guys are despondent for nearly five seconds when, conveniently, Farrokh arrives and offers to be their new frontman. Moments later, bassist John Deacon (Joseph Mazzello)** seemingly materializes out of thin air to join the band, which is also highly convenient.

With all the elements in place, the guys take the stage for their first performance. Considering it’s their first performance ever, you’d expect the band to be a little shaky, with notes of the greatness to come. Nope! Other than a slight mishap with a microphone stand, the guys proceed to absolutely whip ass, and the crowd instantly loves them. They change the name of the band to Queen, go on tour, and sell their dilapidated van to finance an album.

Becoming legendary rock icons seems to be as difficult as making your morning coffee*** since Queen quickly lands a record deal with EMI Records and a tour throughout the United States. There’s even a montage of the guys yelling out, “Hello, Cleveland!” and “We love you, Denver!” Along the way, Farrokh changes his name to…wait for it…Freddie Mercury. He also falls in love with Mary Austin (Lucy Boynton) while coming to terms with his bisexuality. The film even helpfully includes a scene where Mary says, “You’re gay, Freddie,” and he clarifies by saying, “I think I’m bisexual.”

There was talk about a warts-and-all biopic of Queen, talk about the impish Sacha Baron Cohen playing Freddie Mercury. But that’s not what we got. With Bohemian Rhapsody, what we have here is a dumb and obvious film that features a number of strong performances and Queen’s astounding music. It’s a highly entertaining bad movie that often works in spite of itself.

I suppose we’re lucky to have gotten this much. Bryan Singer directed most of the film, before being fired during production.**** Dexter Fletcher came on-board to finish up the last two weeks of shooting, and much like the misbegotten Justice League, the film never feels like a cohesive whole. It needed a filmmaker who could tap into the operatic intimacy of Queen, the moments of gigantic triumph and torment. Instead, it feels like the film cracks open Rock Biopics for Dummies, and starts checking boxes. A lead singer experiencing important emotional moments while creating accompanying hit songs? Check. The lead singer spirals out of control while the rest of the band tells him to slow down? Check! A break-up that takes place in the rain? Check, damn your eyes, check.

The timid direction might not have mattered so much if it hadn’t been partnered with a rickety screenplay by Anthony McCarten. For example, when a character says out loud, “We’ll mix genres and cross boundaries,” you know subtlety is not a priority. In addition to the tsunami of clichés on display, there are a couple of other sizable problems. First, the script gives us a pretty good idea of what makes Mr. Mercury tick. Not so much with the rest of the band. Brian May is levelheaded and concerned, Roger Taylor occasionally pushes back against Freddie’s excesses, and John Deacon looks on wryly. Despite lip service from the script that all of them contribute to the greatness of the band equally, we’re shown that Queen is Freddie Mercury and his Amazing Friends.

The other issue? Consider that we have here a band comprised of an art student, an astrophysicist, a dentist, and an electrical engineer. They were highly intelligent and focused. Additionally, Mercury had a vast range of interests, everything from Elvis to opera and Victorian England. Oh, and sex. Lots of interest in sex. With all of those elements, the cerebral, the sexual, and more, how does all of that affect the creation of some of the greatest music ever? How do Freddie’s queer sensibilities play into it? We never find out, since the film portrays the act of creating art as fast and easy. There’s no struggle, just simplicity.

With all the venom I’ve just spewed, you’d be forgiven for thinking I hated this movie. Not the case, and that’s primarily due to the cast. In an amusing piece of stunt casting, Mike Myers appears as a music executive convinced the song “Bohemian Rhapsody” will never be a hit. Despite having very little to do, I liked Gwilym Lee as the warm Brian May, Ben Hardy as Roger Taylor, and Joseph Mazzello as John Deacon. If nothing else, they’re the spitting image of the real people.

In the suicide note of the doomed Kurt Cobain, the rocker wrote that “…it doesn’t affect me in the way in which it did for Freddie Mercury, who seemed to love, relish in the love and adoration from the crowd, which is something I totally admire and envy.” There’s a scene where Rami Malek’s Freddie is performing, and the crowd is singing along with him. His eyes widen like he’s learned a profound truth. He belongs up there, in front of all those people. Malek is very good in the role, and he’s even got the prosthetics in place to replicate Freddie’s Simpsons-esque overbite. His performance is confident and campy, and he’s able to portray the vulnerability and yearning hidden behind the bulletproof showmanship.

One of the best performances of pretty much anything was Queen’s 1985 set for the Live Aid concert. Give it a watch and you’ll very quickly see a band that doesn’t need pyrotechnics, graphics, or gimmicks. It’s just four guys on a stage — four guys playing for a tight 21 minutes, and a frontman effortlessly controlling a crowd of more than 100,000 people. The power and artistry from Queen are legendary. It’s a shame that Bohemian Rhapsody fails to live up to their legacy. At least we’ll always have Wembley Stadium.

  *There was also some talk about Flash Gordon and Highlander, which I appreciated.

**Fun fact — Mazzello was one of the annoying kids in Jurassic Park. A subplot about a T-Rex chasing Queen would have improved this movie enormously.

***As they say in the online ScreenRant Pitch Meetings, it’s super easy, barely an inconvenience.

****Singer was fired due to personality clashes with star Rami Malek and a weird predilection for vanishing from the set for long periods of time.

from Blog https://ondenver.com/mercury-rising-local-movie-reviewer-has-thoughts-about-bohemian-rhapsody/

[usn6493]

My Navy Adventure

Many veterans have a story about how they came in the military and why they did it.  I’m going to write mine, and while I’m not looking at selling a book or short story, or even a comic, I wanted to document my interesting events.   So here goes.  As most stories go, it happened a long, long time ago.   Just kidding. Before I officially joined the Navy, I was in a program called the Delayed Enlistment Program.  I enlisted in the Navy because the Air Force spent very little time in the area I grew up in Mitchell, SD.  I didn’t want to go into the Army or Marines. As I was talking to the Navy recruiter, I was asking about a law enforcement job which wasn’t available in 1987 for E1.   I liked the Navy's dress blue Cracker Jack uniform which was different than the rest of the branches. The recruiter offered me a job as a Religious Program Specialist.   Not that I was real religious, I did believe in God and thought that job might be interesting.   As I waited for my high school graduation and then boot camp date, the recruiter wasn’t like others.  His DEP meetings consisted of fishing, hunting and other outdoor activities.   He was a Seabee and at the time he was a PO1.  He definitely was honest about boot camp and told all of us that while boot camp may seem hard, once it is complete the rest is simple.   The hardest thing about boot camp is the adjustment to military training and being away from family.   At the time, I had a girl friend which I had thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with but I would find out later was short lived.  She had different plans. Well the day finely came and I received orders to Recruit Training Command, Great Lakes, but wait, since my RP School was in San Francisco, the Navy decided to change my orders to RTC San Diego.  My first official orders modification, and off to CA I go.  The process through MEPS was interesting to say the least.  We were poked, prodded and directed to do things that I thought was weird for a physical.  None of the direction was hard, but strange and I passed all the tasks.  Since I was the only Navy recruit, I was allowed to go first through a lot of the processes.  I remember them giving us a voucher for a sub sandwich and then off to the hotel until the next morning. The next morning was an early wake up call, I think about 0430.  We all were shuttled into a van, then off to the airport to leave for our big adventure.   My plane ride over was exciting for a couple of reasons.  The first, it was my FIRST plane ride anywhere.   Second, we had about four or five Marine recruits onboard and they were all talking crap about how the Marine Corps wasn’t ready for them.  Now I wasn’t dumb, and I knew that there were going to be challenges and not as easy as they said.   These guys had shaved their heads and were definitely making the flight interesting.  As we started to land in CA you could see the excitement and fear in all our eyes, but we were here and it was time to start the journey.  By the way, the slogan for the Navy when I joined was, It’s Not Just A Job, But An Adventure.   Boy were they right.  We landed in the late after noon, 12 July 1987, and at that time there were no cell phones, etc.   The only way to call home was via a pay phone either with change, collect or calling card. As we got off the plane, we were sent to the military welcoming desk, where we were broke up to our specific branches, and as the Navy recruit I had to wait for my van to arrive.  The Marine recruits that flew with me, well they were welcomed by some bad ass in a Marine uniform and from the expression on their faces, it wasn’t going like they had planned.   Good thing I joined the Navy. The van showed up and as I got on board, a company commander told us that while we were in RTC we are to address every one as sir is that understood.  My reply, sure.  Not a good reply.  I paid for that when we arrived late in the evening to RTC San Diego. Getting out of the van, we were directed to place our feet on the feet painted on the ground.  Further directions of following the lines, and group into a room was bellowed by our company commanders who were welcoming us to our new home away from home.  We sat in a room until we were told it was time to do a urinalysis.  At the time, peeing in front of several men who I didn’t know was not an easy thing.  Luckily though, I had to go and we had very little to eat or drink, so away we went.  Paper work was started and at some point in time we were allowed a 5 minute call home to say we had made it okay.  The five minutes was really three minutes with someone breathing down your back.   The process the first week consisted of shots, a hair cut, uniform issuance, stencil training, and more shots.  The shot process was both needle and air injected.  I didn’t like shots, but after the gantlet of shots we went through, I was becoming numb to the idea.  Some hurt like hell and others were pretty minimal except for the small pox, which seems to be the one I am allergic too.    Our issued dungarees were definitely way too long or big, and the boots “aka boon dockers” where the most uncomfortable pair of shoes I have every owned.  We were taught how to stencil, iron (using our palms), folding clothes to fit in an area that is 24” x 24” space.  We were taught how to make a bed so a quarter can bounce and how to clean floors using a blanket, or by pulling a person (Master at Arms) through the area. The classes were pretty interesting and we learned several things such as fire fighting, swimming, floating, Naval history, etc.  The swimming was almost a killer for me since my floating skills were minimal and the shorts we had at the time were pretty pathetic to say the least.  A yellow or beige pair of shorts with a square pocket in the front that was very uncomfortable.   I passed and I was happy.    We did a lot of marching and drilling.  Not too bad since we did a lot of the same things all the time, at some point in time we had to do a service week.  Mine consisted of picking up and dropping off laundry.   When we were not doing that, we were sleeping and enjoying the life with a coke and a smoke.  Others were not so lucky. My two Company Commanders, EM1 Manago and SKCS Leary were very interesting and hard to understand at times since they were from the Philippines.  I found out pretty quick when you question their direction, you do a lot of 8 inches or push ups.  I was also nominated for “marching party” which was additional physical fitness for those who messed up through out the day.  For me, it was additional fitness training and I was ok with that. The eight weeks went by pretty quick and the recruiter I had was true to his word.  The first couple of weeks was an adjustment, the early wake up calls, the miss direction and the overwhelming information overload.  Once we were in a grove, all that stress seem to vanish and new friends or shipmates were made and the only thing we thought of was earning flags, pennants and graduating. We were all given our orders and after our graduation, waited for the day we could get on a plane to leave for the next adventure.   Boot camp graduation was nice, my folks and my fiancé at the time visited me in San Diego.  We explored the area, but to be honest I think I was too tired and excited to remember anything.  Even to this day most of it is a blur.  I do remember my CC telling us if we screw up we would have to start the whole process over and no one wanted to do that, especially me.   With orders in hand, I boarded the plane and headed to San Fransisco to Religious Program Specialist School which is actually located on an island called Treasure Island.  The island is located between SF and Oakland.  The barracks where in a cylinder type building which at different levels held different classes and sexes.  Treasure Island had a back drop of Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge.  In the morning, they were a pretty neat sight to see.  I spent 5 weeks on Treasure Island, in a class mostly made up of females and just a few of us guys.  Typing was the big piece which was suppose to be done in accordance with the typing instruction, using all home row keys.  I cheated, was caught, but at the end of the day I passed the course.  I would spend some of the day watching Damage Controlman put out fires and thinking, why didn’t I do that? Liberty in San Fransisco was in uniform only, and with a buddy.  There were some pretty neat things to do like Fisherman’s Wharf, and down town.  Of course, as we were walking down town we went down some streets at the time that were not really meant for sailors nor straight guys.  This is when I found out about gays, and how they had their own areas and it was off limits.   Taking advantage of a little travel, I flew up to Sacramento to see my aunt and uncle in El Dorado Hills.  The area they lived in was beautiful and in the country.  It was a nice break away and a perfect opportunity to wear civilian clothes without someone looking out for you. The SF area was great for a fleet week which I was able to see and visit ships that even today I can’t remember, Alcatraz, the Wharf, and the dreaded area of Oakland.  Oakland was the harshest of places for anyone due to the crime and location of the Alameda Navy Base at the time.   It was time for me to move on from RP A school and with a certification in hand and plenty of practice setting up different religious ceremonies and the use of a IBM Select Typewriter, I was off.  Where do you think I went, not to the Fleet Marine Force as requested, but to a ship stationed out of Mayport, FL.  But little did I know, I would have to fly to Philadelphia first to meet my ship in the Naval Shipyard, where I would spend the next year.   Boarding the plane, I left for home for a short stint of leave, and to meet my fiancé which later would be old news.   Leaving the family behind, and carrying my sea bag, I headed to Philly, landing at the airport and being picked up by the duty driver, who at the time was getting kicked out for drugs.  He explained to me about the ship and how screwed up it was.  The fact we were living on an Auxiliary Personnel Lighter (APL), basically a floating barge that allows for work, berthing, cooking and laundry.   The ship was not in the water, but a dry dock and at that time of the it year was COLD.  PNSY was not the cleanest and the park outside the base was off limits after hours.  There was a Navy Hospital close by, but that didn’t make it any better.   I arrived to my first official command, USS Dale (CG 19), which was out of water and in a hole with all kinds of scaffolding around it.  I was taken to the APL and showed my area of living which was with the administration folks.  My rack was interesting to say the least, it had straps on it, so in the am, I had to trice up, which means lifting up and locking so we could hold sweepers underneath. I met my first boss, the Chaplain John Smith, and while checking in, he asked me if I was gay.  The question threw me off, but the answer was pretty quick, NO.  Apparently, the guy who was there before me was and painted the ship’s library emerald green “aka emerald city.” Back then there wasn't a "don’t ask, don’t tell policy" Our office was on the APL roof.  It was actually pretty nice, but cold during the winter.  I remember while being there I had to walk to the exchange or to the laundry mat, and the only way I would stay warm was to follow the steam lines.  Great while they were blowing steam, but sucked when you ran out of lines and it was cold.  Now you are wet and cold.  The shipyard was run down and a lot of the area had little maintenance or anything else done.   It was considered an industrial area and treated as well.    I stood many watches and qualified on all the areas required to include some of the extras to help me succeed since I had orders for the next five years.  One of the first things that happened when I was onboard is we received a computer.  It was a Zenith 248, with a choice of screen colors, green or orange.  We were big time then. I had to use a 3 1/4" or 5" floppy disk to save items. LOL.   The adventures while in Philly were pretty exciting.  I was able to see malls, ride subways, watch ball games at the local stadiums for a dollar, and travel to New Jersey.  One of the malls we used to hang out in was located in Cherry Hill, NJ, which is were I was introduced to the traffic circle.  I remember borrowing a friends car and after getting stuck in the circle for a bit, I drove through it. :)  Luckily there was no police or I probable would have had a ticket or two. A friend of mine stayed in South Philly, which is where I would spend some time as well.  The area was close to the Italian market and the open markets and food smells made lasting impressions on me even to this day.  The markets were outside, and they were flooded with people.  The Italians knew how to cook in large quantities.   Traveling during the day was pretty easy and if you had a token you could ride the sub way anywhere.  The night travel was different.  Unsafe if you wasn’t a local and for the most part I was in the house or on the APL.   One of the memorable places to eat near the base was a place called “Blind Mans”.  It was a sub shop or as they say in that neck of the woods grinder or hoagie.  The Philly Cheese Steak was awesome.  Definitely tried the pretzels and even touched the liberty bell.   While there and onboard the ship, I met many great sailors and became close with some.  One in particular was named Mark, and he would travel home to Stafford, VA on long weekends in his Camaro.  I was invited a few times to go along and the trip was interesting to say the least.  The scenery and trip was always nice and there were times we had to slow for Amish personnel or even buy a set of speakers from some guy on the side of the road.  To this day I don’t know if they were stolen or not, but they sounded good and cheap. Mark was engaged to his now current wife and while there I got to meet some really great folks and had an opportunity to make friends in an area that if I had not been stationed onboard the ship and befriended Mark would have never met. The ship was in Philly for a year before we ventured off to Mayport, FL.  While in Mayport, I lived on the ship for a while and then out in town with some friends.  We rented an old trailer house on Mayport road which was a walk from the base, but enough for us to get off the ship.  The couple I stayed with was the same couple I would stay with in Philly on long weekends.  They were a nice couple, but as the time went on, I moved back to the ship until after our cruise.   The cruise was great.  We made several port visits and like most we had a great time seeing countries like France, Spain, Italy, Israel, Africa, Diego Garcia, Cuba, Puerto Rico, Singapore, and much more. After the cruise, me and 7 other guys rented an apt from Turtle Lake apts. I owned a stereo and dishes, another one owned a dining room table and a bed, the rest found furniture items and placed them in the apt as we chilled. That apt was definitely a bachelors pad. There was more alcohol bottles then one could count and for the most part we were able to live cheap and have a great time. My job as a RP on the ship proved to be interesting while onboard the ship and off.  I was part of the fire party, the security team, and even assisted in rescues for other ships.  The chaplain and I would be hoisted on a line to a helicopter and fly to other ships for services.  The flight was great and the opportunity to be hoisted was something that I had never done before.  While we were deployed in the Persian Gulf, we were flying to our next destination and while we were heading to the ship, the helicopter lost control and did a hard landing in the Gulf.  We bounced from the water hard and the pilot was very lucky to land us on the ship.  I got out of the helicopter, looked back at a half broken flying machine and then saw a doctor who asked if all was ok.  I think I was still in shock. Our ship was around Bahrain, and we had to get back since we were in the northern region at the time.  There was only one way, and with my luck, it was another helicopter.  Unfortunately for me I had to get into it and fly back, fortunately for me, the doctor gave me something that made me ride with no issues.  I woke up as we were landing and then road one of our liberty boat back to the ship.  The Skipper met with us, and made sure that all was well.   Until that day, flying was not an issue, but since then I have had a small issue with getting in airplanes and helicopters.  My fear of flying was set due to a crash or hard landing that happened during my first tour onboard the USS Dale.  It took almost 20 years to get to where I was comfortable enough to ride in a plane and not go nuts with a little help from Benadryl and loud music. The USS Dale was a good ship and she helped me achieve Petty Officer Third Class and earn my Enlisted Surface Warfare Device.   The other thing that was good about the ship was after returning from our cruise, I met my future wife.  We were introduced via a blind date and after a few months of courting, we married.  I did a lot of underway time with Caribbean Operations which had us out a lot assisting the US Coast Guard in drug operations.  We spend a lot of time in Puerto Rico, and while out on one of our excursions I mailed Sandy a letter and asked her to marry me.  Fortunately, she said yes, I asked her to buy her wedding band, and the rest is history.   I did have one boss on the ship that wasn’t the best, but in the end he was asked to leave the Navy.  After my time on the Dale, I received orders to Naval Hospital Jacksonville working the chapel in the hospital.  The job itself was boring, but it did allow me to study for Petty Officer Second Class and then cross rate to Master At Arms.  While there Sandy and I had a little girl, Brandi and she was definitely spoiled from the get go by not only us, but the folks I worked for or who was living in the same apt complex as us.   The hospital duty was pretty mundane to say the least.  I worked for a Catholic priest who was a pretty decent guy, but needed to retire since he drank a lot of the holy water.  We also had a Presbyterian chaplain who was a great mentor and helped us out quite a bit as we were young parents.  There would be times he would pick me up from our apartment so Sandy could have the car.  Fortunately the duty there was short and I got to venture off to San Antonio, TX for my school. I’m going to diverse a little and let you know as a young couple it’s amazing on where you will live until you are on your own and what you will have for assets.  We lived with Sandy’s mom for a while, then with one of Sandy’s friends before we got our own little apartment on Beach Blvd or Atlantic Blvd.  The first place, Turtle Lakes Apt, was quite the place.  When I was a bachelor, I rented a room with some other guys there and we did the bachelor things.  After I got married and we could afford our own place, we went back there and met some great folks who unfortunately are no longer with us today.  The later place, on Atlantic Beach was decent, but with a child we opted for a little better living and moved to another area also located on Atlantic, but in a better area. Now back to the story, off to school.  As a second class petty officer, the school wasn’t too bad.  My grades were pretty decent and I was hoping for military working dog school.  I wasn’t picked, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t even asked on where I wanted to go.  I was given orders to the USS Saipan (LHA 2) located in Norfolk, VA.  Back then the sea/shore rotation for a Master At Arms was 5 years sea, and 2 years shore.  So, I packed up the family in Jax, and moved to Va Beach.  We found a little apartment there which was about 30 minutes from the base pending traffic on some of the craziest roads around there at the time.  When we were there one of the main roads had a toll, after a while the toll went away, but the traffic didn’t.  The Hampton Roads area is saturated with military and it makes finding areas tough since most of the locals are active or retired or looking for a way to make a buck off a servicemen. Sandy ended up working in retail to help with the Norfolk life, and as a family of three, we survived by doing things together that was within our budget or capability. We had a few friends that came over to entertain and we were able to take Brandi to some of the theme parks in the VA area. There was always something for us to do and we agreed that while the Hampton Roads area was not pleasant, the western side of VA was nice and made the stay a little more bearable. The tour on the Saipan was interesting since I checked on board as a MA2, I was part of a division with 4 MAs and a few TAD personnel.  As time went by the division grew and I even was promoted to MA1 and selected as Sailor of the Year.  I earned my second warfare device on there which was the Enlisted Aviation Warfare Device.  My duties consisted of urinalysis, investigations, corrections, customs inspector, Asst Chief Master of Arms, and a few more.  I spent enough time on there to see the ship go through two different shipyard periods, both consisting of major repairs and ship alts.  The second yard period we took off the 5” guns so the ship could have the Ospreys land on them.  The Portsmouth Naval shipyard had plenty of action with drugs, unauthorized absences and ship yard workers in general.  Our cruises were pretty interesting as well since we did some Med/IO deployments and some time in the Adriatic Sea.  I worked with two different Marine Expeditionary Units, 2/2 and 2/4 while deployed and was involved in some interesting operations from evacuating embassies and rescuing vessels while underway.   We did a lot of gator squares which was nothing more than sailing in an operational box after or main crew deployed, which are the Marines.   We hit some interesting ports in Italy, and Greece and even in Boston and Ft Lauderdale.  The Saipan had a special type of mission mindset, not like the Dale, which was more of a war fighter at sea.  The Saipan was a taxi service or humanitarian relief which was always at the beckoning call of the Marine Corps.  The duty on the Saipan is considered arduous and that is an understatement.  We spent several days underway and away from home on a schedule that was made up on the fly. As the ACMAA on the Saipan, I had some great mentors, MACS Vasquez (now retired) and MACM Meussling (deceased).  As my leaders, they were quick to provide guidance which allowed me to act as an LPO and make leadership decisions.  The key was to make a decision.  One of the things Mike taught was to stick with the basics.  If the basics are not set, then all the other stuff will not work.  Make sure your people are trained, there is references available and that they are up to date, and most of all, take care of your sailors.   This stuck with me and as I developed my own style of leadership this is one lesson that stuck with me even to this day. Another great thing that happen while on the Saipan is Mike Jr. Sandy and I wanted to have one more child before we ventured off to our next duty station and this tour made it possible with all the underway time and homecomings :). Before I left the Saipan, a friend of mine recommended me for a program working with the Law Enforcement Physical Security Inspection Team as a PO1.  The interview was great and I was well on my way for this great job, but at some point while I was underway, someone decided that a PO1 should not be on the team and that only Chiefs should be selected.  My sponsor had faith in me making Chief, but it was decided that I will not be able to join the team.  So instead, I was selected for Construction Battalion Center, Gulfport which I had no idea of until I received the orders.  The consolation prize was Military Police Investigator School, located in Anniston, AL.  While this was not my first choice, we took the orders and headed to school then to Gulfport.  We arrived to Gulfport after they had a hurricane, so finding anywhere to stay for a short time was challenging. Luckily for us, we were having a house built so I sent Sandy to her mom's house and I stayed in the barracks until closing. Gulfport provided some great opportunities for me.  The first, Sandy and I bought our first house, a 3/2 house that was just right for us at the time.  Fortunately for us, the house provided us a home and after Katrina, a small income gain.   The new duty station allowed me to work with civilians and learn how they work and what we need to do together in order to succeed. My tour in Gulfport proved to be rewarding especially since I showed up as a MA1, made MAC, and then getting selected to ENS as a Security Officer.  I was selected as a Chief there in Gulfport, and served as the Operations Chief, or Chief of Police.  Working plenty of issues between manning, budgets, mutual agreements, etc, I learned what I had to do in order to lead a department, if needed. There was a retired CWO, Don Justin, who taught me quite a bit in management and prepared me for the leadership challenges as a Security Officer. He saw something in me that would help me test my capabilities and push my boundaries which proved successful in my career. Mr. Justin had several medical issues and while I learned so much from him, I fear that after 2005, he didn't make it and passed away. My first tour as a Security Officer was at NAS Whiting Field, FL. It's a training base for all new pilots, with property expanding across 2 states and 5 counties. The tour was challenging, but it allowed me to take what I have learned as a Chief and put it into play as an Officer. I had a mix of civilian and military personnel, with challenges that kept us busy throughout my tour. Interagency cooperation's where made with the local and county LE, which built lasting friendships. As my first air station it provided exciting and sometime unfortunate incidents whether it was responding to off base housing incidents, or air craft incidents that didn't always turn out positive. While I enjoyed my back to back shore tour, I was looking for more challenges and was requesting a ship. I was told about a carrier in Mayport that needed a Security Officer, but I would have to terminate shore duty early. I did, and I accepted the challenge for my next duty station, which was the USS John F Kennedy (CV 67) homeported in Mayport, FL. My family still lived in MS, since my wife was working with the county, and I let them know that we had a new challenge ahead. We would be heading back to Mayport, but the decision was made for me to head to Mayport and they would stay in Gulfport since Sandy had a good job, and the kids were in school. I would travel back and forth on long weekends or holidays to MS to visit with the family. Sandy's mom lived in Jax, so that allowed for some relief at times when I wanted to leave the ship for a weekend. Checking into the USS John F Kennedy was interesting to say the least. I was told by the old security officer that he didn't have time for a turn over, he was retiring and since I was commissioned and had done sea duty you will figure it out as you go. The background of the ship was negative and after two weeks onboard we had several incidents that where black marks for the entire crew. My Security Force had just been lead by a negative leader and were thirsting for someone to allow them to grow and be lead. I met with my Chiefs, and explained how we would take a department who failed the last inspection to one who will not only pass, but set new standards. That is what we did, we had our challenges with manning, and policies, but we stayed on course, follow the guidance in the directives given. By providing leadership and guidance, we organized the dept and identified the areas that needed to be spruced up. We had promotions, awards, great inspection results, and rebuilt the confidence in security to the ship's CO. The dept grew from 25 MA to 25 MA and 75 TAD personnel with 100+ ISF. Training Force Protection Watch Officers to meet the new CNAL requirements. I went from a division officer, to a dept head, and I embraced the wisdom of all my fellow LDOs/CWOs who were onboard. The tour on the carrier was a success, we were operational, met the requirements and were able to maintain the security required for the CO to do his job whether in port or traveling through the Suez Canal. I worked for five COs and four of the five rated me in the top which was pretty impressive considering I competed with all the LDOs onboard. After the JFK, I was asked by the Detailer if I wanted to help set up a new program in Kings Bay which provided security for SWFLANT. Little did I know that if I accepted this challenge that we would be working with Marines, adjusting goals of leadership, learning to blend Navy and Marines together and training a bunch of new MAs to a program that no one knew or quite understood in our community. The command had so many requirements and challenges that we literally had to device a plan with no upward direction. We did just that, we created posts, trained like the Marines, assumed some of their duties and even relieved a contract early to save the Navy money. Projects and ideas where pressed and soon we were passing inspections and doing things that was hard to comprehend for most folks who were new to the program. After 3 years at the command, learning new things in areas not even considered by our community, I left feeling accomplished and knowing that we have set the base line for others to follow and build upon. Orders to Bahrain where offered and I accepted. Oh the challenge, to arrive at a command that has the largest security group in the Navy. The Security Forces there had their ups and downs and where in need of some leadership and guidance. Sounds familiar doesn’t it. As a mid level LT, I knew there were going to be some challenges, but I never knew how our community would avoid the obvious by placing an oak leaf in the position. After 30 days of identifying several issues, we had a couple incidents that ended up with me getting placed as the number 2 guy and a temporary O5 to be placed in order to gain the respect of the ADM at the time. While he wasn't mad at me and he understood I had not been in the seat long enough to do what I needed, he wanted some horse power to lead the largest security department in the Navy which supported all of the Middle East. The billet had always been for an oak leaf, but it appeared to me a lot of the senior folks at the time wanted to avoid this type of duty due to the challenges and time. Bahrain at the time was a 1 year tour for most Sailors, and after you figured the 1 month check in time, 1 month leave time in the middle and 1 month check out time, you really only had about 9 months worth of work. What can be accomplished in 9 months, not very much. I was hurt and I felt like I was fired, but after a short time, and some conversation from CDR Gilbert, I quickly realized that this was an opportunity to get much needed help and to use the silver oak leaves to our advantage. All the ideas and areas that would have been tough for me to achieve, was made simpler with the assistance of the CDR. After a lot of work, I left Bahrain after two years of hard work as the number 1 LT and a MSM. The tour was tough, it presented several challenges that tested my ability as a leader, sailor and husband. Trying to balance the work and family life so far away can be challenging for most people, and the thing I learned the most from this tour was no matter what you can work hard for the Navy, but if you don't work hard for your family, you will loose in the end. This tour was a bitter sweet reward, and afterwards I swore that I would not geo bach anymore while in the Navy, even if it prevented me from making LCDR. I had an opportunity to go back to Kings Bay, GA after Bahrain which allowed me to reunite with my family that I had been separated from so long while in Bahrain and either prepare for retirement or a promotion. It was nice moving back into a house that we had, learn to live with the family I had been separated from so long and be back in the States. The job I was going to was just like I left before. Of course there were some challenges, but a lot of them were manageable since I knew several staff members already at SWFLANT. I was able to do some new duties which was rewarding and even received some qualifications that were limited to SP personnel. My second tour in PRP was just as challenging as the first, since PRP is really not a program that our community is used too. The duty is very important, and it can be challenging for our community to accept and remain true during the tour. I started at the Waterfront, and then moved to the Operations arena based on the knowledge I had from the past. I saw some of the leadership change from the Navy side, and was preparing for LCDR myself. The year I was up, or in zone, I had everything I needed: great Fitreps, awards, hard duties, and time. The results came out, and I was not selected. I was let down! Let's talk about promotions. You do your best to make sure your record is squared away and updated then when it is time for the board someone who has no idea what you do briefs it for about 30 sec to a panel and based on their brief your future is decided. I felt cheated. I knew I had a good record. I had done everything the Navy asked and then some. I was Pissed! I felt the Navy had let me down after all the sacrifices I gave or almost gave (talking about family). After some whining, I talked to several senior officers about my record and they were just as shocked as I was. I was sure to retire as a senior LT. I went home and discussed with Sandy the options we had and she understood what our challenges would be. After a month, I met with the SWFLANT XO and told him I wasn't done. If the Navy wanted me out they would have to kick me out. I was pissed, but in a motivated way. I was determined to show that the briefer had no idea what he said and I made it a personal goal to leave with my head high. The next year I wrote a letter to the board which I hadn't done in the past and told them why the Navy would make a big mistake if I was overlooked a second time. Of course my draft and what was submitted where two different letters. The SWFLANT XO edited and reworded my letter to meet the political expectations. I had to prepare two paths while waiting for the results, retirement and possible promotion. I wasn’t ready to retire, but I had to juggle the two possibilities and that in itself is a challenge. Trying to prepare for something isn't simple and at times, it can even stress the best. With all the preparations you can do, you never really know until the time comes and you are told what the future holds for you as a retiree or possible promotee. The results came out and I was selected for LCDR, above zone. The time for waiting was crucial to my growth because it taught me that I needed to be humble no matter what. I was going to work hard and train sailors which should be eventually recognized by leaders. Even if I wasn't promoted, I needed to keep a clear mind and keep focus on the mission or next chapter. I was thankful for making LCDR and as promised in my letter to the board I was going to do 30 years and use this opportunity and oak leaf to help out those who have not been able to have their voice heard. My choices of orders where pretty slim as an O4, I was offered Japan, D.C., and Norfolk. We chose Japan, but because of certain rules we were not able to go. We decided to give D.C. a try since we had been in Norfolk already and didn’t really care for the Hampton Roads area. The billet was an Operations Officer for 250 civilians located at a newly BRAC joint base, Joint Base Anacostia Bolling. The tour at JBAB was a challenging and rewarding opportunity because it allowed me to provide oversight for fire, security, emergency management, training and safety as the Operations Officer. All the positions were civilian which required me to understand the HRO rules more than I had before. The civilian department heads I had were great about helping me out and teaching me more about HRO process than I would ever know. Being in the DC area had it's challenges with the traffic, and the traffic and oh did I mention the traffic. We lived in Southern Maryland, so we had to leave early in the am to head to work. The other new challenge was working at a joint base. It basically was an Air Force base that combined with the Navy and then became Navy lead. I had several Airman working for me and once they left, it was me and the Navy civilians. The only joint piece about the base was the CO and the Vice Commander. Finishing up at JBAB, I met several folks, made several friends and had to make the last tour decision for Sandy and I. Our choices: Fallon, Key West, and Norfolk. So the decision was Key West. Reporting to Key West was a shocker. First I realized there is nothing here but beautiful sunsets, great fishing, and opportunity to help out my last group of NSF. We also realized that housing was just as expensive here as it was in DC, but very limited. We were fortunate to get into base housing and it has been a blessing. NAS Key West is spread between several islands and maintains 5 base annexes that fall under our umbrella for protection. We provide the only MWD resources between mile marker 0 and 125. We are 125 miles from Miami, which means 3 hours since most of the speed limit is 45. Tourist make it very challenging to get around, and you have none of the main land luxuries for options, so we had to prepare to minimalize, spaces is a high cost premium. This is the last tour of my Navy career. It has been rewarding serving my country and to mentor and lead so many sailors while being mentored and led myself. I have many memories that I could share, and I have too many people to thank. Like many sea stories some are shared and some are kept internal as a reminder of the chapter that has been closed.