#Whiskey Rebellion|Gamble and Riley

[tarnishedhalo]

Do you justify occasional asshole behavior by being unobjectionable for the majority of the time?

Turned Inside Out || Accepting

"To quite Denis Leary, I'm an asshole and proud of it. I told this buddy of mine, I'm not Willy fuckin' Wonka, I don't sugar-coat shit. And it works for me because I know I've never told anyone anything but the truth. I can go to bed at night and sleep with a clear-conscience and that's something I don't see a lot of people doing. "And so, yeah. It hurts people's itty bitty delicate feelings because almost every fuckin' one of 'em come from this whole snowflake participation award bullshit, and have more para-social disorders than you can shake a dictionary at because they've never been told to nut up and buy a helmet. Does that mean I won't fuckin' help someone who's down? No. Does that mean I'm gonna make 'em owe me for it? No. "If someone needs to be babied? They can go hit up Beth. She lives for it, but like I don't gotta tell you that. If they need to hear it straight and they need someone who will actually do something other than hold their hand? They get me. And you. And I don't think I really need to have to explain this to you cause you're sitting shot-gun on this one, I'm pretty sure." Riley pauses to take a breath and narrows his eyes. "Unless you're an alien fuckin' pod person."

[brooklynislandgirl]

Riley - be honest - you'd actually love it if Beth and I got together.

TMI Tuesday || Always Accepting

Few men can carry a palpable sense of menace when sipping through a straw. Riley has elevated it to an art form. And while he stares silently at Gamble, taking a bite of his burger, he lets his thoughts percolate. On one hand it would kill him. He knows too much about the man's habits of not taking women seriously. Not that Gamble is a trophy hunter per se, but he's also not exactly ready and willing to go the full commitment route. He enjoys his freedom, the ability to choose, the need to have escape routes. And Riley gets it. Especially after the Jersey Devil. Hell, he'd have gladly chewed his other leg off just to get away from her if he had to. But Beth has never been a casual kind of girl. She might seem worldly sometimes with her flirtations but they ~and she~ are still mostly innocent and he could see Gamble inadvertently destroying that. He's afraid of that Gamble could end up fucking the kid up in ways beyond his ability to repair.And not even maliciously, it could be wholly accidental. Just being himself. She clearly doesn't get when he screws with her just to get a rise from her, and more than once Riley's had to listen to her complain about the hurt she's felt, the frustration that your best friend nevah take me seriously.

Riley would never, ever consider dating Gamble's sister, if he had one, because of the potential end.

He sighs. "First of all...fuck you. Second...no really, fuck you. But I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world, after I kicked your ass from here to Pacifica and back. And ground her for years."

[argylemnwrites]

I Fold

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Book 1, chapter 12)

Word Count: ~2400

Rating: PG-13 (language, mild sensuality)

Summary: Spending time with her always feels like a gamble

Author’s Note: Written for the @choicesmonthlychallenge for August 21 - temptation. With TRH3 coming out today, I found myself feeling a little bummed that I had no desire to play this series I once loved, so I decided to throw this together to revisit a time when I adored this series and these characters.

Drake stepped into the lounge almost tentatively, scanning the room quickly from the doorway and letting out a sigh when he confirmed he was alone. He didn’t want to think about the fact that there was a lot of disappointment mixed in with his relief at that realization.

He walked over to the bar, rooting through the bottles of liquor until he found the Bushmills he was looking for. He had no reason to suspect that she would be joining him tonight. She wouldn’t even know about this lounge at Applewood. But then again, she’d stumbled upon him in that lounge back at the palace without any warning, and she hadn’t exactly known where to find him then, at least at first. It had been pure coincidence.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was that he’d rather enjoyed the handful of nights they’d spent drinking whiskey and playing poker. Before they’d made the trip to Applewood, it had kind of settled into a late night tradition, with her waiting for him in the lounge after the first couple of times. But now, things were apparently back to normal, which Drake knew in his soul was for the best. Since his birthday yesterday, he was having thoughts he definitely shouldn’t be. Or rather, more thoughts he shouldn’t be. But part of him still just wanted to spend a little more time with her.

He took his glass of whiskey and headed for the couches, pulling out his phone and trying to not feel let down that it looked like she wasn’t joining him. After all, he’d never had problems drinking alone before she dropped into his life. So, he pulled up scores from the football matches today and was ready to watch some highlights when he heard the door creak open.

His eyes flew to the door in an instant. There she was, her dark hair swinging as she glanced around the room, a smile appearing when she met his gaze.

“There you are. I’ve been hunting for where you might be hiding,” she said, stepping fully into the lounge, closing the door behind her. She’d changed into a pair of tight jeans and a loose, purplish sort of top. She looked good, so much more comfortable than he’d seen her all day. “After not only being forced to bake today, but forced to bake with Olivia, I definitely need a drink.”

Drake moved to stand up and pour her some whiskey, but she shook her head. “I got it. Why don’t you find some cards?” And just like that, she was striding over to the bar like she owned the place. His eyes drifted down, watching the way her hips and ass rolled in those jeans before he snapped out of it, jerking his head to the side and standing up, running his hands through his hair as he made his way to the small cupboard off to the side. He needed to stop. He couldn’t let himself get carried away here.

“What’s on the drink menu tonight?” he heard her call out as he dug around, trying to find a deck of cards and some poker chips.

“Bushmills, but if you want something else, Liu-”

“Nah, that’s fine with me.” He heard the splash of liquid into a glass as he continued his search. He eventually found an old deck of cards, but there did not appear to be any chips.

“How’s the hunt going?” she asked, her voice much closer. She must be at the coffee table.

“I don’t think there are any poker chips here, Liu.” He reached his arm in as deep as he could, feeling around the back of the cupboard, but he was still coming up empty.

“Hmmm. Do you have any cash on you? We could use that.”

He pivoted to face her, finding her sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, her arms wrapped around her knees. “Are you literally trying to take my money? Because of all your potential marks at the manor, I’m probably the dumbest choice.”

She threw her head back and laughed at that, deep and rich, her black hair hanging like a surreal curtain behind her. “Maybe I just figured I could start small, gradually work my way through the court!” He chuckled lightly at that before she continued, “But seriously, I don’t know. I was just trying to come up with something we could use. So unless you have other ideas…” She trailed off with a little shrug, her dark eyes wide as they locked on his. The silence that followed was tense and expectant. 

Drake swallowed roughly. He could think of one option besides poker chips as he let his eyes drift across her body, picturing each piece of clothing she was wearing piled on the table in front of her. Those damn jeans that fit her like a second skin. That shirt that was loose and slipping off her shoulder just a bit. The bra he knew was blue based on the strap he could see on that shoulder. Her panties, probably not a matching blue, but still undoubtedly perfect, regardless of color.

He tried to reign in his overactive imagination, dragging his eyes back to her face, shocked to see a coy little smirk on her face. It almost felt like she was flirting, like she wanted him to suggest strip poker or something, but he knew he had to be just imagining things, so he shook his head to get that way too appealing fantasy out of his mind, twisting back to the cupboard and looking at their actual options.

“How about Scrabble tiles?”

There was a slight pause before she answered, “That could work.”

So he tugged the old box of Scrabble from the shelf and joined her on the floor, resting his back against the couch behind him as he set the game on the coffee table and handed her the deck of cards, ignoring how her fingers brushed against his as he did so. As she shuffled the deck, he sorted out the tiles, dividing them into vowels and consonants, then sliding half of each pile over to her. 

“Alright, vowels are one, consonants are five, ante is one? That work for you, Liu?”

She nodded. “Five card draw?” They’d mixed it up a couple of times, but they seemed to both prefer the standard.

“Sounds good.”

And so she dealt the cards. He watched her hands as she briskly alternated placing cards in front of each of them. He noticed a bit of glitter in her pink nail polish. He wasn’t sure if she knew that wasn’t exactly appropriate for court, or if she did and it was a tiny bit of rebellion. He liked to think it was the latter.

“So, how long do Apple Court cup-bearer duties last?” Riley asked as she picked up her cards, scanning them over without changing her expression. “Should you have tasted my whiskey before I had any?”

Drake lifted his eyes from the five cards he was holding to look at her. Her eyes were bright and playful, an eyebrow cocked and the corner of her lips quirked up.

“Ha. Ha,” he deadpanned, looking back at his cards, trying to decide whether he should play it safe and keep his pair of tens, or trade in one of them and to go for a flush as he tossed in an “I” as his initial bet. “Nice to see the power of being fake queen is already going to your head. Good practice for when you’re actually queen.”

She let out a little hum at that, but didn’t say anything else when she matched him with an “O.” It surprised Drake, as normally she gave as good as she got. But for whatever reason, his little teasing comment didn’t draw a response from her. He wondered if he’d struck a nerve. That hadn’t been his goal, but maybe she was worried he really saw her as just as stuck up and irritating as the rest of them. He didn’t know how that could be, because who else at court would sit on the floor and drink whiskey straight up with him? But this place tended to have a way of screwing with minds. He knew that better than anyone probably.

“Liu, I was just teasing. I know you aren’t-”

“It’s not that,” she interrupted, shaking her head lightly as she took the three cards he offered her and passed him three new ones from the deck. “It’s just… Do you really think I’ll be queen?”

He felt a gnawing in the pit of his stomach. Of course she was just worried that Liam wasn’t as interested as she was. She didn’t care how he saw her at all. He glanced at his new cards, disappointed to find nothing useful. The pair of tens was going to have to be good enough. He tossed an “E” tile into the pot before he answered, “Liu, I’m not gonna act like a teenager and gossip about my best friend’s feelings. You are smart enough to see that-”

“That’s not what I meant. I… sometimes… I don’t know. I just don’t feel like I’m cut out to be queen, you know?”

His eyes jumped to her face, but she was staring at her hand, aggressively avoiding eye contact with him as she tossed in a “K” tile, raising his bet.

“Liu, where is this coming from?” He kept staring at her, trying to determine what she wanted here. Did she want a confidence boost and pep talk? Or did she want his honest assessment? Because while he was sure she could be an amazing queen, a breath of fresh air, bringing common sense and real world experiences to the role, he also was scared of what being queen might do to her. To be queen was to play peacemaker, to embody decorum and diplomacy at all times. And she was too fierce, too intense, too free to ever be truly happy locked away in that gilded cage.

She gave a little shrug after a moment, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “I just don’t have anything in common with any of the other suitors. I’m nothing like them at all, and it just makes me wonder if I’m right for this. They’ve trained all their lives for this shit, and if I am so different from them, then I don’t see how I am remotely the right choice.”

“Your differences from them are why you are the right choice, Liu. You aren’t sheltered or out of touch or completely stuck up your own ass.”

“I just don’t know. It feels so weird and the closer the Coronation gets, I just…” she trailed off, biting her lip and staring at him with those damn eyes. She looked lost and unsure, and he wasn’t used to that.

“Did Olivia or Madeleine say something today?” It was the only thing he could think that would have made her suddenly unsettled.

Riley shook her head aggressively. “God no! And I know better than to let anything those bitches say get to me. I’ve just been thinking about it more lately, and I just can’t picture myself sitting there with a crown on my head and a smile plastered on my face.”

Drake shrugged. She wasn’t exactly wrong, and he wasn’t going to lie to her. She would have to put on a happy face publicly a lot when she married Liam.

When he didn’t say anything, she kept going. “Sometimes it all just feels so surreal, like I’m an actress in some cheap romance movie. I don’t know… I guess the only times I feel like I’m still a real human are…” 

Her eyes dropped to the surface of the coffee table as she trailed off again. He followed her gaze, surprised to see her hand mere millimeters from his, his little finger nearly touching her thumb. It happened almost in slow motion, as he watched her thumb scoot over, brushing over the back of his hand deliberately.

Drake looked up and was shocked to find her staring at him, her gaze so intense it almost felt like it could cut through him. He didn’t know what she was looking for, what she was searching for in him, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the moment, to look away. So he stared right back. The urge to slide their hands together, the temptation to lean over and kiss her was so strong, he almost felt himself leaning towards her.

But he knew he couldn’t. It would be a massive mistake. She was just getting worn down by the stresses of the social season, and she was looking for comfort where she could find it. He knew it had to be true. Hell, the only reason she kept coming back for these midnight poker games was probably because she just needed a moment away from all the pressure and he kind of just represented the antithesis of that whole world. It had nothing to actually do with him beyond his outsider status.

She was here for Liam. He should be the one to kiss away her worries and fears, to hold her close, to reassure her. Drake was just supposed to keep an eye on her, not steal those intimate moments. So he closed his eyes, trying to break the spell it felt like she had him under with her stare as he cleared his throat, sliding his hand back. “I fold.”

He opened his eyes to find her still staring at him, an almost skeptical look in her eyes. He felt his cheeks getting slightly warm with her continued attention, so he shoved the handful of Scrabble tiles over to her, trying to move this evening back in a safer direction. “Here, just take your damn winnings so I can deal the next hand.”

She didn’t say anything as she tossed her hand onto the discard pile and handed him the deck. Out of curiosity, he flipped over those five cards. The five of clubs, the three and nine of diamonds, and the six and Jack of spades. She had nothing, had been bluffing the entire time.

“What can I say? Sometimes you just need to raise the stakes.” He glanced up at her statement and saw her watching him. “What did you have?”

“It doesn’t matter, Liu.” And with that, he shuffled his hand into the deck, dealing the cards out without saying another word. From where he was sitting, the stakes were already high enough.

Permatag: @choicesficwriterscreations  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @iaminlovewithtrr @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria  @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs  @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99​

[therealgamble]

Our Whiskey Rebellion, Gamble, because now I HAVE to know.

Send me a ship and I’ll tell you…

Which one sexts like a straight white boy?Since they're both straight white boys...

Which one cried during a fucking disney movie? Two grown men, sitting on opposite ends of the couch watching Finding Nemo. Eyes blink profusely as they squirm in their seats. Then one of them suggests a drinking game to break the tension.

Who put a goddamned fork in the microwave?Nuh uh, don't you even try to blame that shit on me, Riley. It was your sister.

Who does the silly hands-over-the-eyes “Guess who” thing?Nope, never happened and you can't prove anything.

Who puts their cold hands/feet on their partner?The game is this - when your partner has any body part showing, such as their shirt riding up to show a little skin, you press an ice cold appendage to said skin. If they scream like a girl they have to buy you a drink.

Who had that embarrassing Reality TV marathon?We don't talk about that night. Let's just say it involved America's Next Top Model, a fifth of whiskey and two loaded weapons.

Who laughs more during sex?It's a little known fact that the Riley house has paper thin walls. Also that there's a certain phrase Riley utters when he's getting close. After just one time of walking into the place at the wrong time, Brian now laughs uncontrollably anytime he hears anyone say it.

WHO IS THE LITTLE SPOON?Brian is, you got a problem with that? It was to keep warm for survival in the wilderness and that's all they're gonna say about it. Also, he may have started taunting Riley using Ygritte's lines from Game of Thrones and gotten a swift foot to the ass for it.

“Did you pull a knife on me in the night?”

“Fuck you, Gamble.”

[tarnishedhalo]

What do you get for the guy that can just go out and get anything he wants? Brian had no idea. But he also knew that his partner didn’t really give a shit if he was given anything at all. He wasn’t the type that was counting up favors and trying to even scales. He couldn’t be bothered to worry about who paid for something last or who got him a present or not. And somehow Brian knew he’d still be that way even if he was dirt poor.

So he didn’t worry about it. He didn’t bother trying to make excuses or promises. He just walked in like he owned the place, the way he always did, clapped his friend on the back and wished him a happy birthday.

Riley’s just adding the pasta into the boiling water when he hears the door open. He knows it’s not his sister, she’s not coming home until tomorrow evening, taking on extra shifts at the hospital which is overly strapped for capable bodies. He and Gamble know all too well what that’s like. And so the only other person who would make himself at home is in fact his brother.

He turns away from the stove and there’s a wide smile on his face. “McG! You managed to make it! Good thing too or I’d be over run with penne alla vodka.” He steps into the slap between his shoulders and slings an arm around Gamble’s neck for a minute or so before stepping back. “You know where everything is so if you could grab me a couple bottles ~Grey Goose or Tito’s~ and crack one open, I’ll owe you one. Hundred percent squid ink free.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Assuming that you didn’t make any plans other than hanging out with me, tonight.”

[tarnishedhalo]

Obviously it’s a match made in heaven. You don’t get to pick the music though, no way. And there’s no way in hell shotgun’s gonna shut his cakehole.

~*~ “The day we get divorced is when you actually try to slow kiss me. However we should go down to the lawyers because I honest-to-God believe I’d lose custody of Beth to you.”

“Other than that, we’re ride-or-die, man. You’re more important, more loyal, and better than the actual Jersey Devil ever was. We’ll agree to disagree about the music, even though that shouldn’t be an issue, we pretty much have the same tastes.”

[tarnishedhalo]

"What the cinnamon toast fuck is this?"

Five Little Words || Accepting

"Shrimp and Scallop Fra Diavolo with ika sumi pasta. And it fucking took me several to make it by hand. Not to mention the sourdough garlic bread and the salad so that I know all of it will get eaten. Now just close your eyes and try it! I promise you if you absolutely hate it, I've got a porter house with your name on it." Riley stops himself short of making airplane noises as he holds up the fork.

[tarnishedhalo]

“Have I told you lately, how much I love you?”

"I know you didn't knock up my sister and if you'd wrecked my car you'd already be in South America going by Guillermo or something so...do I need to bring a shovel, or do you need bail money?" Riley's a little slow on the uptake, the three inch long laceration above his left eye still hasn't fully sealed, and he looks ~accurately~ like he's just rolled out of bed, with neither a chance to style his hair or grab coffee. He opts for the latter, first. "No, but serious...what's wrong?"

[tarnishedhalo]

“They would find you and torture you, and you would tell them everything.“

Days of Yore || - "Ah but that's where my genius shines through. They would have to figure out how to track me, and I left my phone at my dad's place ~wiped clean of all incriminating evidence~ and bought this iPhone as a burner. An old friend of mine is a former CIA spook. Had him put the contract under his name." Riley beams. "Fool-proof, really. Now, are we sailing down to Baja for a quiet weekend of binge-drinking and questionable choices, or are you going to be Senor Grumpy Face all night?"

[tarnishedhalo]

a loveless marriage - oh no wait, we already have that.

The USS Make-Shit-Up || Accepting

"G, puh-leese. You ain't gonna find a badge bunny anywhere in the world that could do you in any way better than I could and I don't even want you to cuddle or call me in the morning. That being said. You comin' to dinner tonight, or do you actually have plans that don't include me?"

[tarnishedhalo]

"Merry fucking Christmas, brother!" Brian exclaimed, grabbing his friend in a headlock and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He let him go with a laugh. "Now let's go find some trouble to get into."

Christmas in May || --

Riley laughs in equal humour and manages to put a loud, smacking kiss in return on Gamble's cheek as he straightens back up. "Hey back to ya, G. What're we into? Staying local, or do we wanna hit a charter to Reno and spend it in the luxury of slots, whiskey, and cigars?" Luck of the draw, together they both have from tonight ~Christmas Eve~ through the day after new years off the schedule. Now that's subject to change, it always is, but this feels like a heavenly present wrapped up in shades of trouble. "We could be wheels up within the hour."

[tarnishedhalo]

Me, Raylan, and Luka - and don't you dare try to get out of answering on some technicality.

Choices || Accepting {{@goodlawman and @whosxafraid for reasons}}

"Fuckin' easy, man. Marry you, cause you're already my work wife, an' I can trust you not to stab me in the fuckin' back soon as opportunity presents itself. Fuck Givens because... goddamn, have you seen him on the draw? He's fast like a freak. So I mean, I'd rather know where his hands are at all time." A pause because the last is obvious then. "...And if you ever tell him this, I'll bury you. But I'd try and keep up with O'Rian when it comes to drinking. Then you stand to inherit my share of the trust fund because motherfucker's got... he's built different and not because he's a giant."

Another pause. "Your turn. Street, Hondo, Sanchez."

[tarnishedhalo]

Ingredients to summon the Drewski - good bourbon, a medium rare ribeye, a g-note, a sig 1911, and last month's Playboy

Hear the Summons || -

"It's my birthday and I forgot, you cleaned out my locker because they shit-canned me, you love me and this is a clever proposal, or you really fucked something up and you accidentally slept with my sister. Only things I can guess are behind this incredible pile of stuff. So before I crack this bottle open, I'm gonna need to know just how close I am to the truth." It isn't that they don't do things for each other. There are very few people Riley loves and trusts than Gamble, and they tend to express that in booze and jokes at the other's expense. Still, his partner has excellent taste.

"Wait, is one of us dying?" If the truth is that Gamble's finally given up and given in, that they're going to be brothers by law and God, then maybe that's exactly the case, because he'll choke the other man with his bare hands. At least that's the threat he'd make but honestly he could think of worse people for her to date. At least he'd know Gamble wasn't in it for the money and wouldn't give a fuck about the pre-nup and army of lawyers that their dad would have in place before they could even pick out an engagement ring. Fortunately, he doesn't see that happening any time soon.

[tarnishedhalo]

Happy Birthday old man! Let’s go get some drinks!

My Brother from another mother. I’ve got a two day head start on you. Let’s do this.

[tarnishedhalo]

Describe how your muse greets others.

Bit of This and That || Accepting

Some things you just don’t kick. Riley has gotten over the urge to salute people, except in his father’s company. But he still answers with drawled ‘ma’am’ to every woman, ‘sir’ to every older guy. The people he works with don’t have first names as far as he’s concerned; and the people closest to him is a grab-bag of nicknames, endearments that are fairly blue, and one almost always exhausted or exasperated ‘Beth’ with the degree of gravel in his tone depending on what his sister’s done now. Most of the time he goes with a ‘hey man’ or ‘what’s up’ when its age adjacent or younger people. Sometimes, he doesn’t say anything at all but that still doesn’t stop them from getting stopped by people.

A strain in his jaw, the muscle there twitching. The sudden tension in his forearms of all places when they get the invariable ‘thank you for your service’. He hates that most of all. None of this crosses his mind as he lets himself in after a brief knock. He sets the two six packs ~both from Stone, the Dayfall Belgian White for Gamble, the 9 Minutes to Midnight double-black IPA for himself~ and a Macallan 18. He’s got ribs and fixings set to be delivered in about an hour and a half...he’s never come empty handed as a guest.

“Hey, G.” Minimal greeting but he isn’t as fuzzy or touchy feely as his sister. H drops down onto the couch. “You goin’ Dolphins or Chargers, man? I’ll put twenty bucks on the other side.”

[tarnishedhalo]

[Text: Drewski] Dude, I was just watching a show that said pararescue has a higher training dropout rate than the seals. Shit, I might have to actually be impressed by you.

{Text: McG} The pipeline's fucking brutal, man. Let me outline it for you. Hang on this is gonna take a hot minute. {Text: McG} Indoc: Lackland AFB, Tx. This was our basic, with emphasis on swimming, running, weight training, and calisthenics. Took 10 weeks. I still have nightmares over the psych training, obstacle courses, rucksack marches. Then days in class. physics, tables, metrics, medical and dive terminology, CPR, weapons qualifications, history and well. You remember "leadership training". And if you make it through all this, congrats...welcome to the suck. {Text: McG} Welcome to Fort Benning and Army Airborne School! Basic parachuting skills, static line air drops and not getting laid now for three months. You're here for a month. Ground ops. Pyramid and tower weeks, jump weeks, with 5 real jumps. At the end of this, you get your wings. {Text: McG} Now...6 weeks in gorgeous Pensacola, for combat dive course. Diving theory, infiltration/exfiltration methods, open circuit dive ops, and closed circuit dive ops. AFCDC is basically the pool party, and open water search and recovery training. And if you make the cut, it's Navy Underwater Egress training, which ...yay. The joy is overwhelming. Makes me hard. 🙄🙄🙄🙄 {Text: McG} USAF Basic Survival school-- 2.5 weeks, Fairchild AFB, Washington. Two words: Environmental conditions. As inhospitable as possible, and the breadcrumb trail, learning how to find your way back. This is where about fifteen guys dropped out. {Text: McG} Then US Army Military Free Fall Parachutist School--5 weeks split between Ft Bragg and Yuma PG. This one was cool as shit bro, and when we started Free fall HALO. Playing around in wind tunnels, aerial maneuvers, air sense, and other shit. Minimum 30 jumps (I did 36) including 2 night jumps with supp. oxygen and full kit. Instructor kept giving me and Sam shit for being able to carry twice the weight bearing and I had to explain spending all my life carrying Beth. Never got smoked that hard. On the other hand, this is when I got leave to head home for a break. I was never so glad to see my own bed. Drank my body-weight and yours, and slept for three full days. Finally got laid and grabbed a real Five-Guys. (Fuck you and your In-n-Out). {Text: McG} Shortest three weeks of my life, then back to the grind. The next six months was EMT/Paramedic training at Kirtland AFB, in Albuquerque. Yeah, fucking surprised me too that it was a real place. Trauma and evac training, emergency training. First 5 weeks was basic EMT-B training, next 17 was field surgery, pharmacology, combat trauma management, airway support, and evac. Graduation put us in the National Registry. Then there was Pararescue Recovery Specialist school. 20 weeks at Kirtland still. This was qualification for worldwide PJ unit placement. More EMT shit, field work, mountaineering, combat tactics, parachuting, helo insert/extraction, and the accompanying qualifications. At the end, we get the maroon berets and are full fledged PJs, though there's other schools which are "voluntary". {Text: McG} I FUCKED UP. Burt's Tiki Lounge. And what can I say about it? This pic sums it up. I feel the need for heavy duty antibiotics just remembering this shit. And this was BEFORE I used it.