wyrogers

[wyrogers]

mackgemma‌:

it never does entirely - but it’ll help me keep it in check a little while longer. 

whatever helps you sleep at night, dude. personally, i like watching the truckers eye me in my mini skirts. it makes me feel good. then again i bet these goth chicks are probably eyeing you even in your gross uniform. 

i didn’t realize you were in check.

if it makes you happy then go for it. go for the goth girls too. they’re more your type, i think.

[wyrogers]

chloehendricks‌:

That’s what you get for not listening to me when I told you that your wrist is gonna hurt in a few days. 

 actually, your exact words were “you may have an injury to deal with” and that was not very specific in knowing what to avoid.

[wyrogers]

jackcfspades‌:

You won’t need to hit the gym if we keep getting tables with a bunch of truckers all ordering t bone steaks.  Luckily I got burger flipping down to an art form at this point, and I definitely got years of guitar playing to thank for that.  Still, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until my wrists of steel punk out on me.

but unless we’re going to steal all the steaks and pull a rocky montage in the freezer, i need something to punch. so the gym for now. we don’t all have guitar hands.

[wyrogers]

maisyjames‌:

can you actually get carpal tunnel from carrying plates? if so, i definitely have it from flipping burgers all day. our lives are so thrilling right now.

gemma says it sets in pretty quick. maybe we should all file for worker’s comp. or walk out for hazard pay. get a week or so off.

[wyrogers]

waywardvagrant‌:

Gemma gets her sense of humor from me. Too much time around each other in this desert. I’m contagious.

You don’t have mayo? In a diner? What are all of our esteemed guests going to slather over their plates to make Jack’s food edible? Get it together, Liza.

well then your humor seems to be an epidemic here in Crossroads.

hey it’s not like any of us are in charge of inventory. mustard has been on trend since then though and god knows we had way too much mustard.

[wyrogers]

waywardvagrant‌:

You sure that’s not from a little too much self love there, Wyatt? If you want my advice, aim for the burgers. You can get away with serving tourists anything if you call it ‘aioli’. 

first, gemma already beat you to that joke. second, dude. we don’t even have mayo at the diner right now. no way can we pull of aioli.

[wyrogers]

mackgemma‌:

no, but that just gave me an incredible idea on how to get rid of more of them. you’re a genius, wy, and i am 100% going to haunt them whenever they annoy the shit out of me. that’s much more constructive than destructive. 

because otherwise, you’d dress up to the nines and wear a three piece suit? what do you need to preserve your other clothes for? 

you’re welcome. just keeps in mind that creativity does not have to eliminate destruction.

it’s just nice to have things in their place sometimes. and my work clothes are work clothes and the rest of my boring wardrobe can just be that.

[wyrogers]

mackgemma‌:

terrible. i knocked someone out like, two weeks ago when they wouldn’t shut the fuck up about their room being ‘haunted’ by a wailing woman. 

why do you even bother with the uniform? do you really think that guy or eliza are gonna yell if you’re wearing, say, a pair of jeans and an old teeshirt? hell, the other day i wore a leather mini skirt and a crop top with some wedges. 

did you explain that the walls in the motel are thin and she probably just heard the remnants of a horror movie?

honestly, it’s convenient to have something already disgusting to wear to my disgusting job. contains the filth.

[wyrogers]

mackgemma‌:

who are you going after there, rocky? if you’ve been knocking people out and i’ve controlled my temper, i’m gonna be so angry.

you probably need to wrap the wrist, so you don’t get carpal tunnel. or stop having so much fun with yourself. you know, the touristy girls probably wanna get laid. they’d help you out.

i haven’t knocked anyone out in a solid few months.

funny. i’ll keep it in mind when i’m using threadbare napkins to rub out coffee stains from my uniform.

[wyrogers]

mackgemma‌:

about 4 minutes and 32 seconds. or at least, that’s the excuse i used when i dropped a plate of nachos on a girl yesterday.

so multiply that by the last year and half and... i buy it. no reason to panic.

[wyrogers]

how long do you have to carry plates before carpal tunnel sets in? because my wrist hurts like a bitch and i’m not inclined to blame the punching bag at the gym.

[wyrogers]

     🇼​🇾​🇦​🇹​🇹​ 🇷​🇴​🇬​🇪​🇷​🇸​ ☾ 25 ☽ 🇼​🇦​🇮​🇹​🇪​🇷​

birthday january 4th, 1995 zodiac sign capricorn sexual orientation bisexual romantic orientation biromantic

                                            ↪ wyatt alexander rogers has always been the ‘quiet’ kid in the corner, the one shuffling cards between classes and sneaking out to smoke when no one’s watching. average at best, wyatt’s blended in so well that even his family didn’t seem to notice him - the youngest of four boys, he was largely ignored as his overachieving brother made it into ivy league colleges, or his athletic one got a football scholarship, the last performing in music in a way that made ears turn in record studios in nearby new york city. 

                                              it was enough to make him restless; his energy originally went to writing in journals, scribbling thoughts and putting his emotions to paper. but eventually it wasn’t enough, and he started taking boxing classes - finding ways to take whatever he was feeling inside out on other people. soon enough, he was an underground success - at least, in some circles.                                                     throwing matches hadn’t been intentional, but he found the money was more lucrative from those who asked him to do that then what the venue would pay him for showing up in the first place. so if he had to take a beating now and again to let someone else win, whatever - the cash deposited in a po box more than made up for it. and it let him save up enough to disappear - bruises fading and a smile on his face as he left the east coast behind.                                               settling in crossroads, he figured it was a quiet enough place to keep him out of trouble. it took awhile to even realize that the friends he was making - and the rest of the staff at the motel & diner - were far more trouble than he’d ever seen before. thankfully, his boxing days have kept him in shape - and if anyone tries to find him, he’s prepared for the consequences waiting. 

                                     wyrogers. ( kj apa. )

[wyrogers]

come and see the blood in the streets

who: wyatt alexander rogers aka war rogers when: april 24th, 2019 what: wyatt gets a phone call.

Adam didn't smoke; it wasn't a dealbreaker, just an inconvenience that left Wyatt sitting on the creaking bench near the motel office, his cigarette the only warmth in the February night. The motel didn't have a rule against smoking in the rooms but honestly, Wyatt was grateful for the numb sort of peace that came from leaving his Tinder match to sleep off their hookup in the now dirty sheets.

It had been fine. He'd had worse. On another day, Wyatt might have even been inclined to suggest they meet up again and make it better. Familiarity breeds interest and all that. But it wasn't that day. For not particular reason except that he really just didn't want to.

He didn't really want to do anything these days.

Wyatt sighed, the smoke in his lungs disappearing into the cold air. His phone buzzed in his pocket, just another text from his older brother that he'd ignore. Just like he'd ignored just about everything else in his phone after Adam confirmed he'd meet him in Crossroads. A few emails, instagram posts, other notifications that didn't actually interest him. It was the missed voicemail from a Vegas area code that caught his attention the most.

He listened to it, shook his head, deleted it immediately. But like some kind of cosmic joke, his phone started ringing with that same number. Again. Almost as if it had known it was being ignored.

"Rogers," Wyatt said simply instead of a normal greeting.

"War Rogers!" the gruff voice said and Wyatt could practically see the man on the other end. Sitting in his office, a leather jacket too small for his shoulders, drenched in sweat that always seemed to start at his neck. Loud and old and overcompensating. "I have an offer you can't-

"No."

"-refuse, son!" Carey continued, barreling over his objection. "Three nights here in town, all expenses, and a guarantee you make it into the semi-final round. Top four, maybe even three."

"I'm don't do that anymore," Wyatt said.

"You'll be getting paid twice."

Carey let that hang on the open line and Wyatt just knew the greasy moron was smiling like an idiot. Like he'd hooked up. And maybe he had.

"Yeah, that's what I though War," Carey said after a minute of silence. "it's time to come out of retirement, kid. The tournament is going to pay you for appearing and then my friends are going to pay you for supporting their friend."

"Just so throwing the match, Carey," he snapped. "You want me get my ass kicked by some semi-pro boxer trying to level up and then throw the match."

"The game hasn't changed, kid. But I can definitely make it worth your time. And like I said, you'll make it through the rounds. It's just about getting this guy to the final bout."

"He's good enough to get through to me?"

"He's good enough. He just needs help with the last hurdle."

"And if he isn't? I still get paid."

"I'll pay you myself."

Wyatt grit his teeth. He hadn't boxed in a serious fight in a year. Just sparring matches at the gym with guys who might have recognized him from the scene but kept it to themselves.

"When?"

"I'll send you the details. You have about two months to get ready."

"Fine. I'll do it," Wyatt said, a burn deep in his stomach that he couldn't quite identify. Anticipation or regret. But he'd always been as good as his word and he'd just given it.

"Wyatt 'War' Rogers back on the bill. I love it!" Carey exclaimed loudly. Then just like that, he hung up.

All Wyatt could do was light another cigarette for the burn.

[wyrogers]

im getting scared again

[wyrogers]

[wyrogers]

[wyrogers]