#epi services

[epipens]

SUNGHOON / EN-O'CLOCK EP. 51

[hellvcifer]

ANGEL SUPPORT SERVICES—

pairing; lucifer x fem!angel!reader (?), slight adam x fem!angel!reader (?) i don't know yet. still developing ideas atp wc; 2.9k note; yeah i really don't know where this story will go but it's been stuck in my head for a bit. hope you enjoy!! and let me know who the pairing should be bcs i can't decide lol !!

“Hello!” Charlie peeked around the door, eyes glancing side-to-side as she took in the decor. Various whites and golds fancily accentuated the interior of the Embassy. She walked in further, noting the long pathway, surrounded by empty seating, all leading up to a desk in the distance. “Hello?” Her soft voice echoed with the sound of her footsteps. “Helloo~o…? Cre~epy…” Her face scrunched, shoulders curling in as she got closer to the lone desk.

She approached, not knowing what else to do. This being her first time at the Heaven Embassy and all. A solid gold bell was centered on the white porcelain, embellished with fanciful design and begging someone to ring it. Charlie stared at it for a moment before her hand slapped the top of it. The emitted chime was soft and held out the delightful sound. 

A bright flash of light emitted from behind the desk, swirls of golden flowers and sparkling light appearing and growing bigger before revealing a figure wrapped in a mass of feathers. They shuffled a bit and spread out widely to reveal the back of the owner. 

“Oh!” You turned around, eyes widening upon seeing the guest. “Welcome to the Heaven Embassy!” You smiled brightly, arms held out to gesture to the place. “I'm with Angel Support Services, you can call me Y/N, how can I help you?” 

“Oh, uh Hi! I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar.” The girl returned your energy, eyes attentive. “So nice to meet you! I’m here for a meeting with, uh, Heaven.” She explained.

“Right!” Your eyes scanned her quickly, “I heard they were sending someone… new.” You giggled.

“Yes! I’m here filling in for my father, of course, I’m sure you know that but I really wanted to present my new idea about rehabbing sinners and the–”

“Rehabbing sinners?” Your eyes widened, lips curling in. Hand covered your mouth. 

“I know right! Just the best solution to our problem! It may sound a little crazy but I’ve compiled an entire speech–”

“That is… A great idea.” You interrupted her, swallowing down your laughter. Oh, he is gonna eat her alive. “I’m sure they would love to hear it.” Your hands flourished in the air and a pen appeared in one while a scroll in the other. The glow on them shined as you set the paper in front of the girl. “Please sign in here.”

“Oh, Okay!” She grabbed the pen, “I'm super happy to be here! It’s so nice to meet with such friendly people from Heaven considering the ex–Oh!” As soon as she finished signing, the items disappeared and shocked her.

“Of course, of course! We get that alot.” You continued your cheery tune as a door opened on your right. “Through there please.” You gestured in the said direction.

“Just, uh walk in then, huh?” Charlie asked.

You smirked with a nod, eyes sharpening though she seemed oblivious. “Good luck!” You waved with a twiddle of your fingers, watching her leave. “You’re gonna need it~” You spoke quietly, watching the doors shut behind her. You shook your head releasing a sigh. 

Within the next hour you remained at the desk within the Embassy, awaiting the poor girl’s exit. No doubt going on and on about her silly little rehabilitation idea. Though her confidence was thick and made you admire that.

Once a year this happened, and it was the same every time. Answer the ring, pop on down, sign in whomever was visiting, and leave. Typically it had been Lucifer. But it seems that he’s sent his daughter to do it to avoid talking with you. Ever since, well… Last time, he just didn't want to see you. You huffed, sad that you wouldn’t get the chance to talk out the incident. Not that you would even know what to say.

The doors opened, a flash of red was twirled out of it and you saw Charlie land on the floor. Papers scattered around her as she tried to stand. The unnerving guitar of Heaven’s representative rifted throughout the building. The girl stood and walked towards the closing doors. 

“Um–Wait, didn’t you–” The last thing she saw was the devious smile of Adam before she was left in darkness. The last sliver of light snuffed out. “Awh, shit!” She slammed her fist against the heavy gold.

You rested your cheek against your hand, smirk ever prominent as you watched the whole thing play out. The girl was breathing heavily, head now leaning against the cold material. “Sooo, how’d it go?” Your voice was ever cheerful, dripping with a knowing cynicality. 

Charlie groaned out in response as she began picking up the drawings she originally presented earlier. 

“Yeah, that’s what most people say after meeting Adam.” You snickered. “Heaven’s finest first man, an absolute angel.” You stood straight. “Don’t take it to heart, he’s like that to everyone~” You sang out the final word as Charlie stood, her papers neatly stacked in her arms before they disappeared. She looked up at you, seeing how your expression oozed with intent.

“You knew he would react like that?” Her tone raised, questioning your actions. 

“Oh honey,” Your brows dipped as a slight pout appeared on your lips. “It’s Adam. Everyone knows. He literally calls himself the original–”

“–Dickmaster,” You finished together. “Yeah, yeah.” Charlie added.

“See! Look at you catching on so quickly.” Your hands clasped together as you brought them to your chest. 

Charlie groaned, taking a few steps forward. “Why wouldn’t you warn me before going in there?” She didn’t seem angry as she spoke, more shocked, more frustrated than ever. “I could have prepared better, or shifted my presentation, I just–Ugh!”

“The real question is: Why wouldn’t your father? He’s met with Adam plenty of times before.” Your words made her inhale sharply, eyes widening. “Eeouh~ Daddy issues? It's okay, we all have ‘em.” Your wings opened, flapping a few times and raising you off the floor to sit on your desk. “As much as I would love to help, Sweetie, I got more important things to deal with on the up-side, so if you don’t mind.” Your arm swung out, hand presenting the exit that was in line of sight. 

Charlie huffed before walking towards the exit, hand reaching out for the handle. You smiled as she opened the door and waved at her. “Come again!” 

As the resounding slam of the door echoed throughout the chamber, that was your cue to take your own leave. With a flash of light, you appeared back into the holy grounds of Heaven. The large golden gates in your view and a familiar face standing atop of the podium. 

“Y/N! Welcome back! How was the day down below?”

“Hi Saint Peter!” You greeted him, walking down the golden path to the entrance. “Same as always, super boring!” You waved a hand, sticking your tongue out. “Anyways, I’m off to pick up the notes from the meeting. Have you seen Ella?”

“Oooh, yeah. Sera asked her to cover the greeting party for new souls today and asked me, to tell you, that you’ll have to retrieve the notes from today.”  His face seemed like he was in pain as he explained what happened to you.

Your form all but deflated at the news. “Wonderful.” You groaned out the word, watching the golden gate open. You trudged through, smiling at the post angel and waving, “Thanks, Peter!” You tried to remain cheerful, wings outspread and lifted you into the air. He returned your wave and as you left, closed the gates.

With Ella gone, her duties now shifted to you as requested by Sera. Which meant you had to go deal with the First Dick. You rolled your eyes as you flew above buildings, weaving through the other residents of Heaven until you reached Headquarters.

The area was a combination of large buildings, all placed neatly in a secure area for higher ranking angels. They were decorated with the overdone gold accents and white porcelain walls. Seriously, how did they not come up with anything a bit more original. You landed on the ground and walked into one of the higher bestowed skyscrapers, being greeted by others as you did. It didn’t take long to navigate towards the elevator and pressing the button to bring you to the right level. 

You wondered why you felt the need to complete these tasks so quickly. Perhaps to feel the relief of the day being over; the chore having been finished. Just so you can enjoy the happy days of Heaven ahead. The days of the Holy and gifted, where nothing can go wrong and everything is perfect. Not a single thing misplaced or misused. Just… Perfect.

Once you arrived, your steps chorused down the long hallway. At the very end was a giant door leading to the one you were hoping to avoid. Just before it on the left was a smaller office that you stopped in front of. You knocked twice and waited for an answer. It swung open to reveal none other than–

“Lute.” You greeted rather blandly. 

“Y/N.” Her eyes were widened but she quickly bowed her head, hand raising to her chest as she did so. “To what do I owe the honor?”

You strutted into her office, eyes looking around though uninterested in anything you saw, “Ella’s out and I need the meeting notes for my report.” You quickly turned to her. “That shouldn’t be an issue, I presume?”

She straightened, “Of course not.” She walked over to her desk, picking up the pile of papers before handing them to you. You scanned them, noting the diction used and how well they were written. Obviously not Adam’s doing. You sighed though you didn’t care if he wrote them or not. “Should I notify Adam of your arrival?”

“No! No, no.” You began walking towards the door, stepping through the threshold. “That will not be necessary. In fact, don’t even mention I stopped by, mmkay? Good. Bye-bye!” You smiled though it never fully made its way to your eyes. Your pace was fast down the hallway as you reached the elevator. Luckily no one had called it and it was still on the level.

The doors opened immediately and you entered, turning around to hit the button for the lobby. You released a heavy breath and waited for the elevator to react. As the doors began to shut, the large office at the end of the hallway began to open. 

A familiar figure stepped out, “Hey! Danger Tits! when’s that dorky chick with the–” he saw you in the small gap that remained open. His body froze, mouth opened as his thoughts halted. He watched as the panels came closer together, his lips moving to utter the only thing he could process. “Y/N?”

The doors shut as you gulped. You exhaled heavily, feeling your body release any tension you had from seeing him. What a nightmare that would have been to deal with. You’ve avoided him as much as possible within the last year. Though with both of your positions, it was inevitable you run into each other from time-to-time. Quick exits and excuses were second nature to you now.

This moment for instance, you made your escape from the building and ventured over to the main one; having passed by other coworkers and fellow angels along the way. One of the final people on your list to see was Sera to hand over your report and the notes. 

This wasn’t your ordinary day in Heaven but it was certainly the busiest out of the year. Heaven had a meeting with Hell once a year to discuss any necessary things and then it was left in the wind until the next one. It wasn’t your favorite thing to be in charge of, but then again you were rewarded nicely for it. Not to mention, it was recently adjusted that there will be meetings held twice a year now. Something about boosting morale with those below.

Considering how close the buildings were, it was fairly easy to make your way to Sera’s office. You knocked and heard a soft “Come in.” You opened the door and saw her having a cup of tea with Emily sitting next to her. The younger Seraphim grinned widely at the sight of you. 

“Oh my goodness, Y/N!” She jumped from her seat and glided over to you. “How was your day? Did you have fun visiting Hell? Did you meet anyone? Please, tell me all about it!” Her joyous attitude reminded you of the new representative put forth for Hell. Charlie.

You gently laughed as she pulled you forward. “Alright, that’s enough, Emily.” Sera called out with a calming voice, pieced with a smile and causing the girl to release her grip.

She nervously chuckled, “Sorry~”

“Welcome, Y/N.” She glanced down at the papers in your hand. “I assume that is the report from today’s meeting?” 

“As requested.” You held them up and they gently floated towards Sera before laying in her hands and disappearing into thin air. 

“Your work today is appreciated.” She bowed her head towards you. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble visiting them. Please join us.” She gestured to an empty chair at the table. 

“Not at all.” You sat, and Emily rejoined the two of you. “In fact, it was mildly entertaining this time around.”

“Oh! How exciting!” Em interjected, eyes awaiting for more information.

“As you know, Hell put forth a new representative this year.” You took a sip of the freshly poured cup of tea in front of you as you explained. “She was going on and on about rehabilitating sinners as a solution to the population problem they’re having.”

They both nearly spat out their drinks, each with an opposite expression. “That’s a great idea!” “That’s a horrible idea.” You chuckled at their different responses, spoken at once.

“But why not!” Em spoke up, “It could bring an end to the issue we’ve been dealing with for so long! Not to mention, it could bring us closer to those down in Hell–”

“Sinner Rehabilitation has no evidence of working.” Sera was quick to say, “If it were even possible, we would know about it. We must not question divine judgment.” 

“But Sera–”

“That’s enough.” Her tone was stern, ending the conversation.

You took another sip of your drink, sighing into the tense air, “I guess it’s better than the extermination.” You hummed absentmindedly.

“What?” Sera was shocked at the mention of the word, her voice coming out sharply as she stared at you with wide eyes.

You turned to her. “You know,” Your hand twirled in the air as you explained. “The proposal that Adam gave forever ago but it was denied at the high council meeting.” You casually mentioned.

“I don’t remember that.” Em’s finger found her chin as she tilted her head.

You smiled. “Waay~ before your time. It was shot down before there could even be a discussion about it.” You answered. “Anyways, I’ve gotta fly. Meeting~” You explained bluntly and rose from your seat, turning to leave. “It was nice seeing you two!”

“Y/N.” Sera called out, causing you to stop and swivel your head. “Uh,” She glanced down at Emily. “A word, before you go.” She followed you out of her office, signaling the younger to stay behind. Once the door was shut, she cleared her throat. 

“About the proposal,” She spoke quietly, calm eyes masking her shakiness. “That won’t be brought up to…” She eluded without saying. 

You laughed, dismissing her worries with a flap of your hand. “Don’t worry. Rehabilitating sinners? Like they would be on board with that, am I right?”

Sera tried to join in, though she cleared her throat, “And… about the other one.” 

“Other one?” You questioned before realizing. “Oh~ The extermination?” You scoffed. “Yeah, no. It was relayed a long time ago when it was initially discussed. No use in bringing up the past. It was declined for a reason.” You squinted at her. “Unless there’s something I should know about…” 

“No! No, of course not.” She held a hand up, closing her eyes with a soft smile. “I just wanted to make sure all things are transparent between us and them.”

You instantly shifted, grinning at her answer. “Great! See you around.” You walked off though an uneasy feeling remained within your stomach. 

Quickly, you made your way over to your own office, popping through the door and shutting it. Now, you waited. It was bound to happen soon, it always did after a meeting at the Embassy occurred. 

You were chosen, hand picked as they admitted. And though the honor was bestowed upon you in all its glory, the burden you felt took its toll on you. As much as you felt gifted for being picked, there was no relief to the loneliness you felt in your position. 

The gold necklace you wore began to glow, humming loudly as the light grew brighter by the second. It was starting. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. A flash of white encapsulated you and you appeared into a familiar office.

A desk was placed some feet in front of you, the luxurious chair turned away from you. All you could see were the crossed legs of a sat figure, long and dainty, angled just slightly to the right. Cladded in white dress pants, he stared out the giant window that silhouette him. 

“Long time, no see…” He leaned forward, blonde hair peeking past the backrest of his chair. “Y/N.”

likes and reblogs appreciated ♡ ┆ part 2

[starlost97]

— stubbornness.

summary: You just got home from the hospital, and are still learning how to walk properly again. You knew at the moment that you woke up from the surgery that Buck wouldn’t leave you alone. And you were right. He only went back to work when he couldn’t take any more days off, even though you insisted that he shouldn’t worry about you. The thing is, you are very stubborn, and it became even more obvious when you couldn’t do things on your own, but still wanted to.

tags: fluff, recovery, stubbornness, worried Evan Buckley, f!reader.

characters: Evan Buckley, Maddie Buckley.

warnings: allergic reaction, swearing, author’s medical knowledge is very very bad.

a/n: I got this idea after watching an episode of 911: Lone Star (no spoilers here, though), also searching epi-pen and paramedics aesthetic wasn't on my bingo card this year lol.

word count: 1,438.

requested?: no!

Once more, you opened your eyes and felt a sharp pain when trying to move. You always forgot about your legs.

“Oh, fuck.” You murmured, trying to be as quiet as possible. You didn’t want to alarm Buck even more on his first day back to work. “Buck?” You called, hearing noises of things being stumbled on and quick steps on the stairs soon after.

“Honey, hi!” He said, almost falling on the ground when rushing to the bedroom. “Here, let me help you.” Buck grabbed your waist and carefully got you out of bed. “Are you sure that’s ok for me to go back to work?”

“I promise, babe, it’s fine. I can take care of myself while you work.” You said, caressing his hair and cupping his face with your free hand. His blue eyes finding yours. You could tell that he was worried, but you knew how much he wanted to go back to work.

“You can call me anytime, ok? If I don’t pick up, someone will.” He hugged you and kissed your cheek, making you laugh.

“You’re going to be late, Buck.” You said as he trailed kisses down your neck.

“I love you, ok? See you tomorrow.” He said, kissing your lips and leaving the bedroom.

“Love you too!” You said, catching a glimpse of his smile as he went down the stairs. You waited until you heard the front door closing to start getting ready.

People always talked about how Buck was a workaholic, but they didn’t notice how you were just as bad as him. In the last weeks, you didn’t have the chance to leave the house and go to work, since Buck wouldn’t leave your side. But now, with your boyfriend going on a 24 hour shift, you had plenty of time.

You got ready as fast as you could and left the house, driving to the Los Angeles Service Center.

As soon as you arrived, you received a message from Buck asking if everything was ok. You smiled at your phone and answered, saying that there’s no need to worry.

You got to your floor, using a walking stick to get to your desk, which was right beside Maddie’s, so you knew she would see you there soon. But you were prepared to argue why she shouldn’t tell Buck you were there.

As soon as you sat down, you heard a familiar voice calling you by your full name, which would have startled you if you weren’t expecting it

“Maddie! You look so pretty today, you know that?” You said, smiling at her.

“You are unbelievable. Does Buck know you’re here?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“... No, and you’re not going to tell him.” Maddie opened her mouth to answer, but you were faster. “And you own me one, remember? I didn’t tell Chimney that you came in sick when he had specifically told you not to.”

“Well, it’s different. You are recovering from a surgery, when I was just a little constipated.” She said, putting her hands on her hips.

“You still said that you owned me one, so I’m claiming that favor now.”

Maddie looked at you up and down, trying to decide if you were being serious or not. Usually, you would hold onto a favor for dear life until you wanted something nearly impossible. Getting back to work was something that would happen eventually, so all you had to do was wait.

But you couldn’t wait anymore. At home, everytime you heard your phone ringing you got excited because it reminded you of work. It was pathetic. Before becoming a dispatcher, you always judged Buck for being so obsessed with being a firefighter. Being a nurse was good, and you loved helping people, but you got too overwhelmed at the end of the shifts with all those people around you.

“Look, I will be careful. It’s not like I will be moving much, right?” You could see Maddie holding her laugh.

“You do have a point.” She said as she sat right beside you, preparing for the first call of the shift.

Time passed, and you tried very hard to not talk on the radio when the 118 was attending the calls. Sometimes you heard Buck speaking and smiled, trying not to talk to him as you always did. You got used to having conversations while he did things that didn’t really require his full attention, and he loved doing that too. It was something that helped him a lot when he needed to relax.

As the day went by, you got more relaxed. You and Maddie shared lunch, and she helped you change your bandages.

“Everything looks great, honey.” She said as she finished, making sure that the medical tape was well put on your back. “Buck is doing a great job taking care of you.” You smiled at the comment.

“You know, the moment I woke up from the surgery, I knew that he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“He was so scared, honey. He wouldn’t leave your side.” She said as she started to walk back to her desk with you.

“He is a sweetheart, Maddie.” You said, sitting on your chair. “Even though I missed working, he made sure to make those weeks enjoyab-” Before you could finish your sentence, you heard a loud bang, followed by screams. You looked around and found one of the new dispatchers unconscious on the floor.

You and Maddie went as quick as possible — considering you were using a walking stick — to the girl, who looked like was having an allergic reaction. You asked someone to bring the medical kit, hoping to find an epi-pen.

“Nothing here.” Maddie said, looking at you, worried.

“Look at her bag! She might have brought it with her.”

You soon started to hear sirens, but you didn't think anything about it. Your focus was on the girl.

“She's here!” You heard Sue say, hearing footsteps coming in your direction.

“We think it's an allergic reaction, but we don't have any epi-pen.” Maddie said, making space for the paramedics.

“You are right. Chimney, give her some epi.” Hen said, measuring her heart rate.

You got up, standing right beside Maddie and putting your hand on her shoulder for support. You both were worried about the girl. It took you a minute until you realized that Buck was in the same room as you.

You waited until the girl woke up, which didn't take long. Hen and Chimney explained to her what happened, and she agreed to go to the hospital to get checked. This was the perfect moment to try to hide from your boyfriend, but you weren't fast enough.

“Y/N?!” You heard your boyfriend say, just as you were trying to get away.

“Hi, Buck.” You said, turning to his direction. “How's your day going?”

“What the hell are you doing here? You should be at home!” He said, looking worriedly at you, holding your hands.

“I was just getting some things with Maddie!” You lied, looking at your friend, who agreed with her head.

“Why are you in uniform, then?” He asked, crossing his arms, staring at you. You could see Chimney and Eddie looking at Hen, who had a smug smile on her face.

“Pay up.” She said, looking as both of the firefighters picked up their wallets.

“Buck, I’m fine! I swear. And there’s lots of well trained people here to take care of me if something goes wrong. Maddie even helped me change my bandages!” You said, and your boyfriend looked at his sister, who gave him an awkward smile.

Buck looked at you hesitantly before tilting his head and biting the inside of his cheek.

“I guess I can’t make you go home, huh?” He said, smiling slightly and caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Look, please be careful, ok? Promise me that you will take any pain seriously. I don't want you getting any worse.” He smiled at you, kissing your lips.

“I promise, Buck.”

“And now that I know you're here, I want to hear your voice through the radio, ok?” You smiled, confirming with your head.

“I miss doing that.”

“Me too.”

“Ok, lovebirds, let's go. And I'm talking to you too, Chimney.” Hen said, startling Maddie and the firefighter.

“I gotta go, bae. I'll see you home.” Buck said, quickly kissing you before running through the door with the 118. “Love you!”

“Love you too!”

And just like that you spend the rest of your shift talking with your boyfriend through the radio.

Sometimes being stubborn pays off.

[20dollarlolita]

joke's on you; I don't know what you're doing.

context 1) at some point in my store's history, someone who works here out up a "service dogs only" sign on our front window

Context 2) we have a customer, who spends a lot of money with us, who is so allergic to dogs that she once injected herself with an epi-pen and sat outside the store wheezing and waiting for the ambulance she called for herself.

Context 3) I have a coworker who loves flexing the rules on people and making them do what she wants

Context 4) I have been bit by service dogs (or "service dogs", not my place to determine which as long as they answer The Two Questions) in our store who have never interacted with wheelchairs before. No hard feelings as the dog thought they were protecting themselves or their humans from a scary indoor car that's getting way too close for comfort, but it is never a fun incident report to file.

Customer comes in to pick up an item she ordered. Says she wants to apologize because last time she brought her dog.

Me: oh wow why's she apologizing instead of being mad?

Customer goes on about how she's brought her dog in over 50 times and never had a problem. Goes on about how her dog is about to pass the service dog test (does not go into where or what test) but keeps failing because she loves her mommy too much. Continues at length about how she doesn't want to make anyone unhappy.

Me: something feels off about this but I'm not sure what.

Customer continues about how she was just shocked because there was no way she could have known because it was never a problem before

The voice of Bob Dylan in my head: and you know something is happening here but you don't know what it is.

My confused ass mentions how some workers in the store get very serious about our front door sign as we've had major accidents involving ambulances and blood.

Customer sighs, shuts up, and leaves.

Me: very confused.

Me, on my lunch, three hours later: OH I GET IT, she's doing that bullshit thing my grandma does where she apologizes to show how wrong and stupid someone was!! Hahaha jokes the fuck on her, I absolutely did not understand at all that it was what was happening!

So customer service tip, always take customers at face value, because a review of "I fake apologized to the girl and she didn't react like I wanted her to" doesn't get much traction with higher-ups. Neither did, "I told them it was fine when they asked me if they were all right to do their training exercise in the aisle I was shopping in, but they should have understood that I was being sarcastic." But that's another story for another day at work.

[niphredil-14]

TMNT Rapael/Reader- "Held Space"

A/N: this took me absolute ages and is unedited because i got lazy. shoutout to my now ex-gf for dumping me which gave me the inspiration to finally finish this fic Pairing: Best-friend!Raphael (i imagined this as 2003, but frankly could be any of them)/reader Content Warnings: cheating, insults, toxic bf, best-friend raph Word Count: 2.1k

She stood on the subway, arm reaching up to hold onto the handgrip as she quickly switched her gaze between her phone and her surroundings. There were too many people around, and so little space, but she did her best to shuffle around to keep some semblance of a personal bubble. She was lucky that she didn’t have too many stops between her work and home, and though it felt like much longer to her, within fifteen minutes of hopping onto the train, she was stepping off, eyes flicking down to her phone when it chimed. Unlocking her phone, it opened up to her text thread with one of her best friends, the contact name, raphie, followed by a ninja emoji, a turtle emoji, and a red scarf emoji. She had promised to text him once she had got off work and was heading home. Most of the thread had been meaningless rambles, a few memes, and lots of complaints about the horrors of customer service from her, and even more complaints about Leo from him. It was the newest additions to the thread that captured her attention.

You: I mean, at least my bf’s on cooking duty tonight. I don’t think that I could handle having to cook after today lmao

raphie: yeah, so long as you trust him to not fill it chock full of nuts and not know where your epi-pen is again.

You: yeah that sucked

You: But that was one time! And I feel like it can he easy to forget someone’s allergies if it wasn’t all that important before. And he’s been better lately!

raphie: better as in actually good? Or better as in just not ghosting you for weeks at a time even though you live in the same apartment??

She sighed as she looked down at her phone. Raph had insanely high standard for anyone that was close to the people he cared about, and she was sure that it was just his protective side showing a bit. She figured that if Raph just knew him a bit better, that he wouldn’t be so harsh on him. She thought that it was just because Raph didn’t know him like she did, and that, really, Sam hadn’t been all that bad recently. Things seemed to be looking up. There was a brief time that he wasn’t being so loving, but in the past month, he had really turned around, he was amicable and affectionate, and kept up his side of the chore chart, he was really putting in an effort. And Raph, she thought, just didn’t know what he was talking about. She pondered all of this as she walked the few blocks from the train station to her apartment. With every step, her exhaustion grew, until the reached her door. She struggled with her keys for a moment, before finally getting them into the lock and turning the handle, letting the door swing open. She took a step into the apartment, shutting the door behind her, and dropping her purse down on the floor beside her. It was when the purse did not land flatly as it normally would that she looked down, and found that another purse had gotten in the way of a successful landing. Confusion wrote itself across her face, as her eyes then trailed around the room, finding several feminine items that most certainly did not belong to her. She experienced a strange sense of extreme clarity and clear-headedness that was always so unexpected in moments of great pain and betrayal. She let her gaze travel all over the room a few more times, as she then noticed the sounds emanating from her bedroom. She pulled out her phone and opened her most recent text thread.

You: raph

raphie: ?

You: I need you to come to my apartment now.

She slid her phone back into her pocket, not waiting for a response, and quietly opened the door again.

“Baby! I’m home! I thought you were gonna start on dinner?” She called out as she slammed the door shut. The noises from the bedroom ceased, and she imagined the panic on the lovers’ faces. She waited a moment by the door, and heard a voice yell from the bedroom.

“You have a girlfriend?” A feminine voice spoke. His voice was muffled through the door, though she could tell that the girl with him cut him off. “You fucking asshole!” She heard the two of them moving about in the bedroom, and moved to the kitchen, opening up a cupboard and grabbing a wine glass. The bedroom door slammed open, and a flustered woman stormed out and up to her. “I am so sorry! He told me that he was single, I had no idea, I swear.” She looked at the woman, and despite her anger, couldn’t logically stay mad when she knew that they had both been wronged.

“Not your fault that he’s a lying piece of shit.”

“No kidding.” The woman replied. They both stood there, somewhat awkwardly for a moment before the woman apologized again and left. She was given only aa moment of peace before her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend came stumbling out of the bedroom, evidently only just having finished putting on pants. He was paid no heed, as she reached for a corkscrew in the far back of a cupboard.

“Baby, I can explain!” The words flew out of his mouth, and he took a large inhale, as if preparing to ramble. She cut him off before his lungs had filled.

“There’s no need. You shouldn’t waste the little time that you have to gather your essentials.” She spoke, her voice calm and even.

“What?” He asked, incredulous.

“You can come back for the rest of your things Saturday at 3pm, as for now, just fill a bag or two with your most immediate essentials and leave.”

“The fuck?! You can’t kick me out! This is my home too!” He stepped towards her, and she looked at the clock. She knew Raph wouldn’t ignore her text.

“Not according to the lease. Which has only my name on it.”

“Bullshit! That doesn’t mean shit. And you didn’t even gimme a chance to explain!”

“There’s clearly nothing that needs to be explained. Despite what you may think, I’m not stupid. I’m fully capable of putting two and two together.” She cut off another one of his fruitless attempts to argue. “Sam. My name is on the lease, I, alone pay for the rent and all the bills. On top of my full time job, I also do a solid ninety-percent of the cleaning and chores, and pay for all of your stupid subscriptions. As far as the law, or anyone with basic common sense is concerned, I own this apartment and everything in it. Now, round up your shit, or at the very least your wallet and car keys, while you still have time to get out of my home.”

“The fuck do you mean,’still have time?’ I’m not going anywhere. You can’t force me out of my own damn house.” She could hear the bedroom window be forced open, and the thud of two feet landing on the ground.

“You will leave, or you will be forced to leave.” She said, doing her best to not allow her emotions to show in her voice. He continued to step closer to her, still yelling.

“You really think you can force me to do anything, bitch?” She turned to face him, and looked past him, seeing Raph quickly approach. A smile beautifully matched the cold look glowing in her eyes.

“I don’t need to. You’re leaving.” She said, firmly. He lurched, but a much larger arm than his came around his neck, and applied heavy force, forcing a choked out wheeze to fall from his lips. Sam was pulled backwards into a firm body, his hands unsuccessfully clawing at the arm around his neck.

Raph spoke with a large smirk etched across his snout. “This guy botherin’ you, ma’am?” Humor dripped from every syllable. She returned his smile kindly.

“As a matter of fact, he is.”

“Well, then, lemme take care of that for ya.” Raph said, sliding his arm away from Sam’s neck, and grabbing onto his thumb, twisting so that his body would follow as Raph dragged him to the door and threw him out, leaving him crumpled on the ground, gasping for air. She walked up beside Raph, and tossed Sam’s wallet on the ground in front of him, before retreating back into her apartment once more. Raph gave the pained man a cruel smile as he spoke. “And stay out!” After slamming the door in his face, Raph turned and walked farther into the apartment, reentering the kitchen once more, where he found her finally pouring herself a glass of wine.

He stepped towards her slowly, careful to not startle her. “Hey, uh, you okay?” She stood with her back facing him still. He saw her take a large sip of her wine, looking out the kitchen window. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke, her voice losing its conviction by the syllable.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Raph.” He took another few steps until he was only inches away from her. She still kept her back to him, and so he reached out and placed a gentle hand on her upper arm, carefully turning her to face him. As soon as they were face to face, she crumpled. Her lips pulled tight in a grimace, and her eyebrows scrunching up, the skin of her nose and cheeks already flushed and rosy, and her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Oh sweetheart.” Raph said, bringing his other hand up to her un-held arm. “What happened?” Her head lolled slightly to the side, and a heavy sigh escaped her.

“You were right, and I should have listened to you.” She said, her voice breaking at long last. “I just-“ She stuttered. “I just wanted to believe that we were happy and that everything was good, you know?” He nodded along, and rubbed gently strokes on her arms as she told him the events of the night. “I don’t understand why he would do that. I did my best to be a good girlfriend. I did everything for him. Why wasn’t I good enough?” She was rambling, just letting all of her negative and untrue thoughts come barreling right out of her mouth. Raph’s grimace grew as he was forced to listen to all her depressing self-talk.

“Stop that.” He cut her off sharply, more so than he meant to. He attempted to correct his harshness by giving her a small, reassuring smile. “He’s just a dick, you did nothin’ wrong, it wasn’t you.” She inhaled, and he continued to talk before she got a chance to argue with him. “You were perfect, and he didn’t deserve you. I know how much work you put into the relationship, and how much effort you put into planning special things for him. You were not the issue. He was just the biggest piece of shit around, and you were unfortunate enough to fall for him.”

“Raph,” She said, quietly.

“’m not done.” He continued. “He was damn fuckin lucky to be blessed with your presence, let alone to have you as a girlfriend. You got any idea how lucky any man’d be to have you, huh?” She sniffled, and he pulled her in tighter, letting her hide her face in his shoulder. “I wish I coulda convinced you to leave him sooner. You deserve way better than that garbage, you hear me?” She burrowed her face deeper into the scaly skin of his shoulder. “You hear me?” He repeated, and waited until she nodded into his shoulder before he continued. “I know that it hurts now, but believe me when I say that you don’t need him. You could do so much better than him, Sweetheart, you don’t even know.”

The only sound that came from her in response were sniffles, routinely interrupted with a hiccup as she sobbed into his skin. He held her there for several moments, not offering any more words, simply sharing the experience with her and holding space for her pain, but he couldn’t just stand there for long. Gently, he adjusted his hold and lifted her off of the ground, holding her tight to his body, and began to steadily walk into the living room, dropping the both of them down onto the couch. He continued to hold her close, as he rubbed large, slow circles on her back, allowing her to push all of her tears out, uncaring of the slight dribble of snot beginning to drop onto his skin.

“You’re gonna be okay, Hon, I’m here, I’ve gotcha.”

[just-a-girl-who-wrytes]

hi, idk if requests are open but if so..

can you please write deacon x reader when during a case his wife saves a man’s life. the next day, the guy goes to the station with flowers to thank her and asks her out and deacon gets jealous!

Yes! I love getting them!

Enjoy! ❤️

Deacon’s station had been temporarily relocated next to yours while their headquarters were being remodeled. A firehouse, EMS station, and police headquarters all on the same block? It kept the banter between your first responder branches alive. You all spent your free time hanging out, training together, and cooking good meals to be eaten in between calls. You and your partner had just sat down with 20-David and the fire crew on for the shift when you were dispatched to a difficulty breathing call.

“Love you, Babe.” Deacon said as he chewed his mouth full of food.

“Love you too.” You responded. You had to be mindful not to kiss him or have any public displays of affection while you were on shift together. That was a BIG no no and would undoubtedly result in one of you two being moved stations. Despite being restricted on affection for 24 hours, you enjoyed sharing a station with your husband.

The rest of the house told you and your partner to be safe as you left to run the call.

You arrived on scene to find a 40 year old male having an anaphylactic reaction to some peanuts he unknowingly ingested while having a severe peanut allergy. He had given himself his epi per a friend on scene, but with no relief.

You immediately administered a second dose of epi, followed by 25 mg of benadryl, as well as a nebulizer breathing treatment. You and your partner were able to get him onto the stretcher and loaded into your ambulance where you got an IV and continued treating him on your way to the hospital. You had to admit, he was a stubborn one - as you would say. You threw the entire anaphylactic protocol at him down to intravenous epi and there still wasn’t a ton of improvement. Regardless, he wasn’t any worse by the time you dropped him off at the hospital.

You returned to service once you made it back to the station to restock. You told Deacon and Luca about the call. You were always excited to get to run good calls where you were able to use your full skill set as a paramedic. Deacon adored listening to you talk about good calls. He loved watching the spark in your eye when you talked about getting to help people and use the skills you trained hard to develop.

Deacon stood at the back doors of your ambulance while you put your supplies away.

“You are so beautiful, you know that, right?”

You looked up from your medication bag and smiled at him.

“You’re not half bad yourself, Kay.”

Your husband chuckled.

“I love getting to see you work and I love hearing you talk about getting to do your job.”

“Well, baby, you know I love what I do.”

A week later, you both were on shift together again. You were checking off your ambulance that morning while the firemen checked off their trucks and SWAT checked their gear.

You and your partner were lost in conversation together about a recent call you ran when you overheard someone asking a fireman for Paramedic Kay - you. The engineer walked the man over to you and you immediately recognized him as the anaphylactic patient you had cared for earlier in the week.

A man walking into the bays carrying an impressive bouquet of flowers caught Deacon’s eye - even more so when he heard the man ask for his wife.

“Who the hell is that?” Luca asked his teammate.

“We’re about to find out.” Deacon said, making a bee-line for your ambulance.

“These are beautiful. Thank you.” You thanked the man, taking the flowers from him as you smiled.

Your husband caught your eye as he approached the side door of your ambulance and stepped inside.

“As a thank you for saving my life, I would love to take you out to dinner one night, that is, if you would please go out with me?” The man asked.

Deacon was standing next to you as you sat in the captain’s seat in the back of the truck. You heard a low growl escape his throat.

“I thank you for your kindness and consideration, but I was simply doing my job. I love what I do, so I’m pretty good at it. However, I am married to a wonderful man.”

Deacon smirked to himself, “And even if I wasn’t married, there is a strict no-no on dating patients.”

Deacon looked at the man and noted he was visibly disappointed.

“There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?” The man asked.

As professional as you were trying to remain, your kindness was quickly wearing thin when the man asked you again after you had revealed to him you were married, but Deacon didn’t leave you time to respond.

“Brother, I believe she told you that she was married.”

Your patient became obviously disgruntled.

“Marriages don’t mean much now-a-days.”

You could tell that struck a nerve with your husband. His posture became more upright and he held his hand out towards the man, expecting a handshake. You kept silent to watch the scene unfold. You noticed Luca had approached the back doors of the ambulance as well.

“My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself to you,” Deacon began, “I’m SWAT Sergeant David Kay. Paramedic Kay is my wife.”

The man stuttered and turned around to leave without responding or shaking your husband’s hand.

“Don’t forget. Keep your epi pen somewhere that’s room temperature and replace them when they expire!” Your partner reminded the man as he walked off.

Once the man was out of earshot, you could no longer contain your laugher.

“Really?” You said, laughing at your partner.

Your partner shrugged.

“Fucker.” You heard Deacon mumble.

When you arrived home the next morning with your husband, you were undressing from your uniforms.

“David Kay,” you said sternly with a slight sensual tone in your voice.

“Yes ma’am?” He turned around after taking his shirt off.

You felt butterflies in your stomach. You always secretly loved when Deacon said ma’am to you, or called you mama, or his ole lady.

“Was that jealousy that I saw in you yesterday?”

You smirked and made your way over to your husband. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“And if it was?” His voice was low and sensual.

“I’ve never seen that side of you like that before.” You rubbed the back of his neck with your finger tips.

“That’s because no man has openly disrespected you like that in front of me before. You are my wife. That should be respected.”

“You know I have eyes for you…” you traced his pecs and abs down to his belt with your fingers, “and only you.”

You stood up on your tip toes to kiss your husband.

He wrapped his arms around you, groping your ass with his hands, and moaned into the kiss.

You spent the day showing your husband that he was the only one you would ever want.

[cannabiscomrade]

great allergy post btw!!

I think its easy to say good allergies aren’t that bad because they’re avoidable and the symptoms aren’t really chronic in the same sense that typical disabilities are. But my god the social effects! Having to bring your own food everywhere and be mindful about traveling and plane rides constantly is really draining after a while, especially with very common allergens like gluten or meat or egg. Like it’s crazy to me that most people can just eat whatever (like random food trucks in particular because damn I wish) because I’ve never gotten to do that

also the comorbidities! asthma alone accounts for a long term impact of allergen exposure.

people do not care to understand the severity of anaphylaxis and I've even been in first aid trainings where all they did was pass the Epi-Pen trainer around. a certain popular public charter [R.E.D.A.C.T.E.D] doesn't even mandate allergy certification through the first aid/cpr provider they choose. (a majority of first aid/cpr courses I've taken are phenomenal with allergy training fwiw)

ANYWAYS here are the signs and symptoms of anaphylaxis and what to do if you or someone is experiencing them!

If you or someone you know is experiencing anaphylaxis, call emergency services immediately. Do not delay care. If you're unsure, call anyways. Symptoms can be rapid or within 2 hours of exposure.

Do not delay care after administering epinephrine (Epi-Pen, Adrenaclick, Auvi-Q, etc), it is only temporary, hospital care is necessary.

Do not assume that someone with an allergy has an epinephrine injector, especially in places where you have to pay for healthcare.

If someone goes unresponsive and is not breathing during an allergic reaction, start CPR (adult | child+infant) immediately.

Image description: an infographic from the Food Allergy & Anaphylaxis Connection Team titled "SIGNS AND SYMPTOMS OF ANAPHYLAXIS"

Anaphylaxis (an-a-fi-LAK-sis) is a serious allergic reaction that comes on quickly and has the potential to become life-threatening. The most common anaphylactic reactions are to foods, venom, medications, and latex. Anaphylaxis signs and symptoms that may occur alone or in any combination after exposure to an allergen include:

MOUTH: itching, tingling, swelling of the lips/tongue/palate (roof of the mouth)

THROAT: hoarseness, tightening of throat, difficulty swallowing, hacking cough, stridor (a loud, high-pitched sound when breathing in)

LUNGS: shortness of breath, wheezing, coughing, chest pain, tightness

GUT: abdominal pain, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea

CNS/BRAIN: anxiety, panic, sense of doom

EYES/NOSE: runny nose, stuffy nose, sneezing, watery red eyes, itchy eyes, swollen eyes SKIN: hives or other rash, redness/flushing, itching, swelling

CIRCULATION/HEART: chest pain, low blood pressure, weak pulse, shock, pale blue color, dizziness or fainting, lethargy (lack of energy)

Symptoms involving the throat, lungs, and circulation/heart are marked with asterisks, indicating immediate and potential life-threatening symptoms.

Consult with a board-certified allergist for an accurate diagnosis and management plan.

Although the majority of individuals experiencing anaphylaxis have skin symptoms, some of the most severe cases have no rash, hives, swelling

EPINEPHRINE is the first-line of treatment for anaphylaxis Antihistamines, inhalers, & other treatments should only be used as secondary treatment. Always carry two epinephrine auto-injectors at all times.

When you, or someone you know, begin to experience symptoms, CALL 9-1-1 IMMEDIATELY!

FAACT Food Allergy & Anaphylaxis Connection Team

AWARENESS • ADVOCACY • EDUCATION www.FoodAllergyAwareness.org

(513) 342-1293 Fax (513) 342-1239

P.O. Box 511 West Chester, OH 45071 info@FoodAllergyAwareness.org

[end ID]

[no-stupid-questions-official]

Why is it that anyone can easily by Narcan, no prescription needed, just in case someone overdoses, but people who don't have allergies aren't allowed to be Epinephrine auto-injectors (Epi Pens) in case someone goes into anaphylaxis but doesn't have one? They're both life-saving, so why is Narcan no strings attached but Epi Pens are basically illegal to own without a prescription? I'm being genuine as someone who works in food service

-

[lost-spoons]

It was suggested to me by a lovely human on here that I should add some info to my medical alert bracelet because random civilians and emergency medical services don't know what POTS is, so having that written down doesn't help them. So I'm getting a new one.

What do you guys think I should have on my medical alert bracket?

My current one says:

My first name only

POTS, Epi pen

ICE: Name (relation to)

Phone number of ICE

I'm thinking my next one should be something like this, but let me know what you think:

My Name

hEDS, POTS, VCD

NO 911, Call: phone ICE

Fall Risk, Allergies Epi-pen

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Tuesday, July 23, 2024

july_10 july 23

THE PLACING OF THE PRECIOUS ROBE OF THE LORD AT MOSCOW (1625)

The Savior’s precious Robe [ Greek “himatia”, literally “over-garments”] is not identically the same thing as His seamless coat [Greek “khiton”, literally “under-garb tunic”]. They are clearly distinct within Holy Scripture. “Then the soldiers, when they had crucified Jesus, took His garments (ta himatia) and divided them into four parts, to every soldier a part, and the coat (kai ton khitona). Now the coat was without seam, woven whole from the top down. Therefore, they said among themselves, let us not tear it, but cast lots for it, whose it will become. Thus the saying in Scripture was fulfilled: they divided My raiment (ta imatia) among them, and upon My vesture (epi ton himatismon) did they cast lots” (John. 19: 23-24; Ps. 21 [22]: 18-19).

According to the tradition of the Georgian Orthodox Church, the Chiton of the Lord was carried by the Hebrew rabbi Elioz from Jerusalem to Mtsket and at present is beneath a crypt in the foundations of the Mtsket Patriarchal cathedral of Svetitskhoveli (the Feast in honor of the Chiton of the Lord is celebrated on October 1). None of the Mohammedan invaders ever ventured to encroach upon this spot, glorified with a sign by the mercy of God, the Life-Creating Pillar.

The Robe of the Lord, actually one of its four parts, the lower portion specifically (other parts of the Robe of the Lord are also known in Western Europe: in the city of Trier in Germany, and in Argenteuil near Paris in France), just like the Chiton of the Lord, came to be in Georgia. In contrast to the Chiton, the Robe portion was not kept underground, but was in the treasury of the Svetitskhoveli cathedral right up to the seventeenth century. Then the Persian Shah Abbas I, in devastating Georgia, along with other treasures also carried off the Robe of the Lord. In order to ingratiate himself with Tsar Michael Feodorovich, the Shah sent the Robe of the Lord as a gift to Patriarch Philaret (1619-1633) and Tsar Michael in 1625. The authenticity of the Robe was attested by Nectarius, Archbishop of Vologda, also by Patriarch Theophanes of Jerusalem, who had come from Byzantium, and by Joannicius the Greek, but especially also by the miraculous signs worked by the Lord through the venerable relic.

Afterwards two parts of the Robe came to be in Peterburg: one in the cathedral at the Winter Palace, and the other in Saints Peter and Paul cathedral. A portion of the Robe was also preserved at the Dormition cathedral in Moscow, and small portions at Kiev’s Sophia cathedral, at the Ipatiev monastery near Kostroma and at certain other old temples. At Moscow annually on July 10 the Robe of the Lord is solemnly brought out of a chapel named for the holy Apostles Peter and Paul at the Dormition cathedral, and it is placed on a stand for veneration during the time of divine services. After Liturgy they carry the Robe to its former place.

On this day a service to the Life-Creating Cross of the Lord is proper, since the Placing of the Robe in the Dormition cathedral in 1625 took place on March 29, which happened to be the Sunday of the Veneration of the Cross during the Great Fast.

VENERABLE SILOUAN, OF THE KIEV CAVES SCHEMAMONK (13th-14th c.)

The Holy Schemamonk Silvanus (Silouan) of the Kiev Caves, zealously preserved the purity of both soul and body, he subdued his flesh with fasting and vigils, and he cleansed his soul with prayer and meditation on God. The Lord granted him an abundance of spiritual gifts: a prayerful boldness towards God, constant joy in the Lord, clairvoyance and wonderworking. The monk lived at the end of the thirteenth and beginning of the fourteenth centuries. His relics rest in the Caves.

d, constant joy in the Lord, clairvoyance and wonderworking. The monk lived at the end of the thirteenth and beginning of the fourteenth centuries. His relics rest in the Caves.

ROMANS 14:9-18

9 For to this end Christ died and rose and lived again, that He might be Lord of both the dead and the living. 10 But why do you judge your brother? Or why do you show contempt for your brother? For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of Christ. 11 For it is written: "As I live, says the LORD, Every knee shall bow to Me, And every tongue shall confess to God." 12 So then each of us shall give account of himself to God. 13 Therefore let us not judge one another anymore, but rather resolve this, not to put a stumbling block or a cause to fall in our brother's way. 14 I know and am convinced by the Lord Jesus that there is nothing unclean of itself; but to him who considers anything to be unclean, to him it is unclean. 15 Yet if your brother is grieved because of your food, you are no longer walking in love. Do not destroy with your food the one for whom Christ died. 16 Therefore do not let your good be spoken of as evil; 17 for the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. 18 For he who serves Christ in these things is acceptable to God and approved by men.

MATTHEW 12:14-16, 22-30

14 Then the Pharisees went out and plotted against Him, how they might destroy Him. 15 But when Jesus knew it, He withdrew from there. And great multitudes followed Him, and He healed them all. 16 Yet He warned them not to make Him known, 22 Then one was brought to Him who was demon-possessed, blind and mute; and He healed him, so that the blind and mute man both spoke and saw. 23 And all the multitudes were amazed and said, "Could this be the Son of David?" 24 Now when the Pharisees heard it they said, "This fellow does not cast out demons except by Beelzebub, the ruler of the demons." 25 But Jesus knew their thoughts, and said to them: "Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation, and every city or house divided against itself will not stand. 26 If Satan casts out Satan, he is divided against himself. How then will his kingdom stand? 27 And if I cast out demons by Beelzebub, by whom do your sons cast them out? Therefore they shall be your judges. 28 But if I cast out demons by the Spirit of God, surely the kingdom of God has come upon you. 29 Or how can one enter a strong man's house and plunder his goods, unless he first binds the strong man? And then he will plunder his house. 30 He who is not with Me is against Me, and he who does not gather with Me scatters abroad.

[kittymaine]

Free Tire Removal Service

Note: I wrote this for the 40th Anniversary Jason Todd Exchange. This was my gift for G_of_Thorn.

-----

The first time Jason Todd stole the wheels off the Batmobile he was fifteen and it nearly cost him his life. You would think that he would know better than to do it again.

But, Jason wasn’t a fifteen year old kid helpless in the mean streets of Gotham’s seediest districts anymore. He was the big bad Red Hood and he wasn't afraid of the Bat or Two Face or even the Joker (especially the Joker). So, the first time he saw the Batmobile parked in HIS DISTRICT (the nerve, seriously) Jason didn’t hesitate to jack those big beautiful truck tires. Seriously, he didn’t even know they made them that big. He didn’t stick around to see what the Bat would do once he found his ride up on cinder blocks. He rolled those big ass tires all the way to the nearest chop shop, sold them for a mint (because really who was going to try and rip off the Red Hood) and took the money straight to Abuela Gutierrez. She could put the money to good use.

The second time he ran into the Batmobile it was in Tricorner. Not his usual stomping grounds, but he had a hot tip that Carmine Falcone was storing his heroine in a storage unit there and had made a short trip to the island to wire up a little c4 and blow the whole unit to kingdom come. On the way back, he happened to see something glossy black in a narrow alleyway behind a Thai restaurant that had him doing a u-turn on his bike. There she was, the Batmobile, so glossy black it looked like candy paint.

It wasn’t the Bowery, not even close to it. But, Jason ws burning with curiosity about whether the Bat had taken any precautions after his last tidy haul. Besides, he had a collapsible tire iron in his saddlebag.

(The bat had taken precautions and added alarms on all the tires. But, Jason was no amateur and he disabled them before removing all the tires and rolling them the two city blocks to the water's edge and pushing them in.)

The third time wasn’t even him. He was out of town handling a shipment of epi-pens, mifepristone and other needed medications being shipped in from Canada hush hush like through a friend of a friend. He had two clinics set up in the Bowery by then, but keeping them stocked with the real essentials was a pain in the ass that a little bit of smuggling could easily solve for him. Fuck tariffs anyway they could eat his entire ass.

When he came back to Gotham, everyone was talking about how four kids no older than thirteen were seen rolling tires almost as big as them away from crime alley, all of them wearing red hoodies. Jason was so proud he could have cried. There was real hope in the next generation.

He sent a cake and a metric ton of burritos to the houses of each kid and made an announcement to all his guys. Any bat vehicle parked in the bowery was fair game. If any bat tried to give any of his people trouble for fucking with their cars, bikes or fucking unicycles, they could rest assured that the Red Hood would have their back.

Jason had expected that to be the beginning of open season. He was spoiling for a fight, if he was honest. It was either the Bats or Carmine Falcone and honestly he wasn’t all that interested in trying to go up against Falcone yet. He had been funneling the money he made from drugs (only non-addictives), drag races, and gambling dens back into the community. He had set up homeless shelters, free childcare centers, clinics, and children’s homes all throughout the Bowery, all with good people who he knew could be trusted. Anything that was leftover went straight to families that needed it. The Bowery was big, but it was also close and everyone basically lived in everyone else’s pockets. They kept things insular and they took care of their own and it was never hard to ask a few abuelas or nanas about who in the community could use his help the most. Still, that didn’t leave a lot of money left over to invest in weapons or hiring outside goons to go throw themselves into the line of fire.

The bats were the next best thing. The only problem was that they weren’t biting.

Jason had gotten a visit from Batman early on in his campaign to take over the Bowery. It was a joke, honestly. Jason had just started to wage a bloody one man war against Black Mask to push him out of the Bowery. He didn’t have a gang yet, just a duffle bag full of impressive weaponry and a death wish. And one night there Batman was perching on his window all dark and foreboding. Instead of fucking off when Jason took a few pot shots at him, he just started droning on about how Jason was a criminal and if he didn’t stop with all the violence and bloodshed, he would be getting another visit from him and next time he wouldn’t be so nice.

Oh, so scared. /s

What a douchebag.

Jason didn’t pay him any mind. Partially because he already thought that Batman was a grandstanding jackass who only ever showed up if he could get a big front page piece written about him in the Gotham Gazette. Where was Batman when his dad was beating him? Or when his mom was passing out on street corners? It didn’t even have to be particularly his mom and dad. When had Batman ever helped anyone who lived in the Bowery, in the poorest part of the city, like him? Never, as far as he knew. Batman barely ever set foot in the Bowery. The rest of his reason was because he wanted Batman to pick a fight with him. It had been a while since Jason met someone he couldn't beat in a fair fight and he was looking forward to punching the Bat in the face.

Jason succeeded in not just pushing Black Mask out of Gotham, but actually spun his ass out so bad that he was lucky to own one shitty strip club and a bar out in the West End. Batman never showed up again. Jason mostly forgot about him and focused on his own shit.

Until now. Who knew that Jason could still be disappointed in Batman even after all these years?

Despite the open invitation to come fuck with him, no Batman ever showed his face in the Bowery. Batman and all of his associates weren’t seen in the Bowery for months after the kids stole his tires. It was a bummer. Most of his people seemed happy about it though. They were all patting themselves on the back for scaring off the big bad bat. So, Jason shrugged it off. At least it was good for morale.

Until finally one of them showed up.

A late night in May, under cold drizzling spring rain, Jason spotted a bright red spot of color shooting down the streets toward Otisburg, cutting right through the center of the Bowery. He followed it on the rooftops for a while before it pulled into what he thought was a locked underground garage and disappeared. Intrigued, Jason followed.

The garage was locked when he got to it, but he was able to enter the building it was built under and access the garage from there. Inside was a lot of garbage, a few abandoned cars and oh hello. A glossy red coupe with a definitely illegal tint on the windows. Not to mention a garishly obvious stylized R painted on the hood. Jesus. Way to keep a low profile.

Still, Jason was so pumped to finally get a chance to take another pot shot at the Bats that he didn’t just take the tires off. No, he also removed the suicide doors, the bucket seats, and was under the hood working on detaching and lifting out the engine with a chain tossed over a metal support beam in the ceiling when the boy wonder himself finally came back.

“Hey! HEY!” Robin shouted, sprinting at Jason from somewhere in the dark garage, his voice sounding a lot more frantic the closer he got. “OH MY GOD! What have you done to MY CAR?!” he screeched by the time he came to a sliding stop a few feet away from the car itself. Jason had carefully placed each piece he removed from the car beside it so it looked like a halo of car parts surrounding the chassis up on cinder blocks.

“Oh, well look who it is!” Jason sang as he popped up from under the hood holding an adjustable wrench in his hand. “If it isn’t the bird brained idiot who parked his car in my territory. How’s it going, bird brained idiot? Catch any ne’er do wells today?”

“How did you do all this? The seats? THE STEREO?!” Robin bemoaned, going from one item on the ground to the next like he didn’t know where to look.

“Oh my god,” Jason sighed, rolling his eyes so hard he thought he might have seen his brain for a second. He dropped the radiator to the ground with a loud clang and walked over to where the chain hooked around the engine was hanging from a beam in the ceiling and gave it a testing pull. It was still attached in a few spots, since he wasn’t actually ready to take it out yet. But, he could probably pull off his big coup de grace well enough. He had the core strength for it.

“HEY ASSHOLE” Jason shouted and Robin’s head popped up, his face a comic masterpiece of crestfallen and confused.

Once Jason had his attention, he gave a powerful pull on the chain and the whole front of the car lifted off the ground for one brief glorious moment before with a horrendous sound of wrenching metal and torn vinyl piping the last few bits and bobs connecting the engine to the rest of the car gave out and the whole thing ripped free of the chassis, dropping the car back onto the front cinder blocks with a loud clang.

Robin wailed a distraught “NO STOP WHAT ARE YOU-” but froze as his car came crashing down to Earth with an ear shattering bang.

Jason guided the engine block down off the chain and onto the dirty garage floor and then dusted his hands off on his jeans. Robin was still frozen in shock, his hand still half raised toward his car. Jason tapped his adjustable wrench on Robin’s shoulder as he went by him.

“Stay out of the Bowery, twerp,” he said brightly and then strolled out of the garage humming a merry tune.

-----

Jason was exceedingly pleased with how well pranking Robin had gone, but he assumed that would be the end of it for the bats for a while. Batman had obviously gotten the message loud and clear and Jason would eat his own shoe if Robin so much as saw the word Bowery in a book and didn’t shudder in terror. Surely, they had the message now that no bat was safe in the Bowery and he wouldn’t have to worry about seeing any more after that.

Except that Jason developed a shadow just a few days after his run in with Robin.

Once the sun went down and Jason put his helmet on, he could feel that he was being followed. He couldn’t see whoever was following him, but he could feel them. Like a breath on the back of your neck or a sense of foreboding, he knew he was being followed everywhere by unblinking eyes as soon as he donned the Red Hood.

It took a week before Jason finally admitted that he wouldn’t be able to catch whoever it was who was watching them. No amount of turning around or taking strange turns or changing up his routine could shake the feeling of being watched. But, he could at least let them know that he knew he was being watched.

He was on top of his own apartment building, sitting between planters full of cherry tomato and pepper plants still small in their big five gallon pots when he called out, “I know you’re there! You could at least come out and say hello!”

He wasn’t wearing his helmet. It was the end of his night, so he had taken it off and was dragging on a cigarette before heading inside. But, he was still armed and in his body armor and it had been an easy night, except for the constant eyes always putting him on edge. If this was likely to work, he didn’t see why he shouldn’t try it then. Not that he was actually expecting ‘asking nicely’ to work.

So, imagine his surprise when a thin dark figure separated itself from the shadows at the far end of the roof and stepped toward him.

Jason startled so hard he almost dropped his cigarette over the side of the roof. Almost.

“Whoa! Ah, okay, hi hello. I really didn’t think that would work,” Jason stumbled over his words.

The shadow tilted its head at him and oh look it had little bat ears. Guess that answered that.

“You broke Robin’s car,” the shadow said in halting uncertain speech. They also had the voice of a young girl.

“I didn’t break his car, I just disassembled it. He can put it back together,” Jason said with a wry grin. He was tempted to take another drag of his cigarette but wanted to be ready if she lunged at him.

“You stole Batman’s tires,” the little shadow added, stalking closer but staying at the edges of the roof.

“Okay, I did do that. Multiple times, even,” Jason said, his grin turning smug as he remembered the satisfied feeling he had each time he rolled those tires away from that shining black monster of a vehicle.

“Can’t steal my tires,” the little shadow said, it’s voice lilting up in a teasing tone.

“Oho,” Jason laughed, some of the tension bleeding out of his body. He wasn’t sure he could take such a sneaky shadow in a fair fight, but if she just wanted to play, then that was fine with him. “Pretty confident, huh? What makes you say that?”

“Don’t drive,” she said with such a perfectly innocent shrug that it made Jason bray out a loud uncontrolled laugh.

“You got me there!” he said, once he caught his breath. “But, bats and birds still aren’t allowed in the Bowery. I’ll figure something out,” Jason said with a dangerous grin. “I’m the Red Hood, by the way. Don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” he added with a genteel little sketch of a bow.

“You’re Jason Todd,” the little shadow said confidently and Jason was so shocked he almost fell over. But, luckily he was leaning against the low wall around the roof, so he didn’t. That would have been embarrassing. 

“I’m Black Bat,” she said, holding out one slim hand encased completely in ink black kevlar.

Jason took her hand and shook it firmly. She squeezed his hand just as strongly back. “You’re scary as hell, but don’t think I won’t find a way to get the best of you,” he said.

“Good luck,” she tittered and then was gone almost before he could blink.

-----

Jason pondered for a good long while how to catch the Black Bat. If she didn’t drive, then his current method of fucking with the bats was out. He considered just fighting her, as that was normally his go to for dealing with people who didn't listen to him. But, he also liked her and even if she was scary as hell she was also tiny and sounded feminine. He was not ignorant of the optics of a huge tank of a guy like him fighting a girl as tiny as her. That tossed out most of the physical stuff and put him back in prank territory. Something he didn’t have much experience with, if he was honest with himself. So, off to YouTube he went.

There were a staggering array of options when it came to pranking someone, Jason found out. Jason would never admit it, but he lost hour upon hour looking up all the different kinds of pranks people played on each other. A lot of them weren’t options because they were either too mean or required you to live with the person, but finally he settled on one he thought a young girl would probably appreciate. Buying the crafts was a fun experience in ribbing, but Mrs. Cotilla who ran the dollar store was nice enough not to give him too hard of a time for all the weird shit he was buying.

Then, all he had to do was wait for her to show up. Or, for him to feel her eyes on the back of his head and call her down, more than likely.

So again imagine his surprise when he felt eyes on his back but also heard footsteps. Was she getting sloppy? Or was she trying to give him a chance? If that was the case he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Reaching into the pouch on his hip where he had been keeping his secret ammo just for her, Jason whirled as fast as he could and chucked the pouch at where he had heard her coming up on him as hard as he could.

The first thing he saw was an explosion of red and black glitter as his glitter bomb collided with something. The second thing he realized was that the thing his bomb had collided with was not a young girl all in black but a young girl all in eggplant purple who was gaping at him while she was covered head to toe in red glitter.

“DID YOU JUST GLITTER BOMB ME!” she shrieked holding her arms out at her side.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE BLACK BAT!” he shouted back, holding his hands out palms up.

“Glitter! For me?” Black Bat called, her voice all excitement and teasing as she separated herself from the shadow of a water tank and jumped as light as a cat to stand beside the girl in purple. She picked up the glitter bomb from the ground and gasped in delight as she squeezed it and it rained more sparkling plastic pieces.

Jason pressed a hand to his chest and tried to slow his beating heart. “Shit. Yes,” he gasped, taking a deep breath. “I told you I was gonna get you somehow!” he shouted once he realized that she was there and the glitter trap had finally been sprung.

“You didn’t get her though! You got me!” purple girl shouted, trying to brush the glitter off of her front and only succeeding in grinding it into the fabric more. “God dammit! And it had to be red?”

“Never would have got me,” Black Bat said, tossing the glitter bomb to the ground once it was no longer making little puffs of red sparkles when she squeezed it.

“I’ve still got plenty more of these things. I’ll get you. You’ll see,” Jason blustered, putting his hands on his hips.

“I want the glitter,” Black Bat said, holding her hand out and putting her other hand on her hip mirroring Jason. “Give.”

“What? Fuck. No,” he said, confused and on the backfoot. “Why would I give you the glitter? Hell no.” But she just kept standing there with her hand out looking tiny and threatening. And, Jason had made them for her. And, there was no way in hell he was going to hit her with one of these things. She could at least enjoy his hard work, he guessed. “Goddammit,” he spit and handed her the pouch full of glitter bombs.

She hummed happily as she pawed through the pouch, sending up more little poofs of red glitter dust before selecting a glitter bomb. She weighed it in her hand, tossing it up and down and then whipped it at Jason as hard as a baseball pitcher nailing him square in the forehead. Luckily the glitter bombs were just made of cotton balls, red and black glitter and burlap so he didn’t feel anything but a rain of glitter sprinkle down his face and chest.

“Jesus fuck,” he groaned, not even bothering to try and get the dust off. He knew from experience that it would take days for it to leave his skin and hair.

“Avenged,” Black Bat said to the purple girl.

“That’s why you’re my actual best friend,” purple girl sang.

“This is my friend,” Black Bat said to Jason, gesturing at purple girl with the pouch of glitter bombs she still held in her hand.

“Spoiler,” Purple girl added.

“Spoiler for what?” Jason asked, his nose wrinkling as he frowned and tried to shake glitter out of his bangs.

“No, like, my name is Spoiler. Like, I spoil all your evil plans! Get it?”

“Seriously?” he turned to Black Bat. “You guys let her go out with a name like that?”

“Hey! Like you have any room to talk! You’re not even wearing a hood right now that’s a fucking domino!”

“Hey, this isn’t feedback hour, okay? My name is ironic,” Jason spat back.

“YOU STARTED IT!” purple girl shouted back.

“Hey,” Black Bat interrupted them, poking Jason in the side which gave him a little start because okay when did she get so close. “Spoiler has a bike.”

“Huh? Uh, yeah. Why does that matter?” purple girl asked looking confused.

Jason was also confused for a second before the clouds parted and God smiled down on his poor bedazzled ass and he realized what Black Bat was getting at.

“Did you park it in the Bowery?” he asked with what he knew had to be a truly unhinged looking grin.

“Uh. Yeah? Why?” purple girl answered, but she wouldn’t get an answer. Jason was already sprinting off the roof toward the road scanning for any hint of purple he could see. This girl had a theme and he doubted that her bike had escaped it’s eggplant grasp.

What followed was probably the most fun and chaos Jason had had since ever probably. He was methodically grappling across the Bowery looking for Spoiler’s bike while being chased by a frantic Spoiler who had at some point gotten Jason’s bag of glitter bombs so he was being spiked with them every time she got too close. Black Bat was also zipping along beside them, sometimes helping Jason, sometimes helping Spoiler and just generally being a force of uncertainty.

Jason eventually found the bike parked down near the water but before he could do more than plant his butt on it, Black Bat was flinging him off it. But, for his trouble, she had given him the bag of glitter bombs. So, Jason got to chase Spoiler back across the Bowery pelting her with as many glitter bombs as she had hit him with.

Once both Spoiler and Jason were laying flat on their backs exhausted on a rooftop near Otisburg, Black Bat sat down on Jason’s chest and showed him his pouch filled with all the glitter bombs they must have lost as they chased each other up and down the Bowery. He had no idea how Black Bat had had time to gather them all back up and put them back in the pouch while still chasing the two of them, but she had.

“Now me,” she said with finality and plunked the bag down between the two of them.

So, Red Hood and Spoiler took turns tossing red glitter bombs at Black Bat while she performed what Jason guessed was probably a dance from Swan Lake with all the fluttering of hands. By the time the sun was starting to peak over the edge of the water, turning it into a diaspora of glitter itself, they were all completely covered with a metric ton of glitter.

“Fun,” Black Bat sighed happily, turning her arms in the warm morning daylight and watching them sparkle.

“Yeah. You two are cool,” Jason agreed. He was exhausted. Chasing those two girls all across the city was a tougher workout than any fight he’d ever had. “You can hang with me. But, no boys!” he added loudly.

Spoiler barked a laugh. “No boys allowed!” she agreed. “Only hot girls and homicidal crime bosses.”

“Amen,” Jason said.

-----

Jason was added to a group chat titled ‘two girls and a criminal’ by the next morning. He was more than a little tickled by the name and was glad that one of them had thought to open up a line of communication. That way they could let him know when they were flying through his district and he could warn them about any skeevy shit he heard about through his own channels. He also put the word out with his gang that purple girl and the little shadow were cool and not included in his Fuck Batman five point plan.

Even if that was the intention they mostly just sent memes to him and he mostly just sent pics of his tomatoes and the kids in his after school group, which they fawned over appreciatively anyway.

Spoiler came by irregularly, usually while chasing a case. Despite acting wild and fun in person, she was surprisingly no nonsense about her cases. Most of which were about hustling the other gangs still messing with the lower income areas of Gotham that weren’t under his protection, so Jason was more than happy to feed her whatever information she wanted. Even if he could tell that half the info she was fishing for wasn’t for herself. He didn’t know if it was for Batman or someone else that she was gathering intel and he didn’t particularly care. He trusted Spoiler enough to deal with her regardless.

Black Bat showed up all the time. He wasn’t really sure what her deal was, but she was fun and scary smart and the kids in the Bowery immediately fell in love with her. If the kids liked her, then that was good enough for him. Their asshole radar was honed as sharp as scalpels, so their positive assessment was worth its weight in gold to him.

Plus, she always came along with him to get greasy chili dogs at the hot dog stand outside Papi’s Strip Club which made her a hit with not just him but all the girls and customers there. Within a few months she was as good as any Bowery native, born and raised, as far as the people on the street were concerned.

And then one night at the end of summer Black Bat and Spoiler showed up together, which always spelled trouble, with one more kid in tow.

The three of them landed on Jason’s roof, their feet making hardly any sound on the sunbaked bitumen. Somehow Robin looked smaller and slighter than both the girls, though that might have been because of how they stood in front of him with their backs straight and their shoulders thrown back while he seemed ready to fold in on himself any moment.

“Hey, I thought we said only hot girls and crime bosses,” Jason said mildly, stubbing his cigarette out on the sole of his boot before slowly hauling himself out of the folding chair he had been lounging in.

He didn’t really mind them bringing Robin along. They both mentioned him pretty often, so it wasn’t hard to figure out the three of them were pretty tight. He had figured that it wouldn’t be long before they brought him into their little cadre of crime fighters and criminal.

“Robin basically counts as a girl,” Spoiler quipped, though not a muscle in her body relaxed and her feet remained planted firmly like she was waiting to take a hit.

“Hey,” Robin said weakly from behind her. “In my defense, I don’t even want to be here,” the last bit mostly directed at Jason.

“Robin is good,” Black Bat said, her body language loose and easy. Though for her she could be doing the splits and still be ready for anything. “And, we need him.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason drawled. “What for?”

“For the prank to end all pranks,” Spoiler added with a shark toothed grin that Jason could see even under her full face mask.

“We’ll need his brains,” Black Bat added with a solemn nod.

Jason snorted. “Well then, you kids have come to the right place!” Jason said with a grand sweep of his arm. “As my feathered friend there can tell you, I am the king of pranks! Did you ever put your car back together, by the way?”

“Yes,” Robin snapped out, looking alive for the first time since they dropped down. “No thanks to you.”

“I knew you could do it, kid,” Jason said with a wink that made Robin look so wrong footed and flustered that he almost laughed again. “So, what do you have in mind,” he asked Spoiler.

“We’re going to prank the most untouchable of us all,” she said with a solemn expression. Jason frowned, expecting her to say Batman. He wasn’t above pranking Batman, but he kept so far out of the Bowery lately that he expected he would have to go pretty far afield to get him. Though, if the kids helped him maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “Nightwing!” Spoiler finished.

“Nightwing?” Jason repeated, totally lost. That definitely wasn’t what he was suspecting. “That guy from Bludhaven? Why him? I thought for sure you were gonna say Batman.”

Spoiler snorted. “Bats has to be the easiest guy in the world to prank. One time I put mouthwash in his mug instead of coffee and I swear he drank from it three times before he poured it out.”

“Last week I put glow in the dark hello kitty stickers all over the back of his cape and he did a whole patrol like that,” Tim chipped in.

“Whipped cream. Up nose,” Black Bat added with a snort and a mime of shooting a can of something up her own nose.

“Jesus,” Jason said, not sure if he should be impressed by their savagery or sympathetic for Batman.

“Nightwing is the real get. He’s the oldest of us and the only one who’s graduated to having his own city to protect and everything. And he’s not beaten down and exhausted like Bats yet. We’ve all tried to get him, but it’s like he has eyes on the back of his head! It’s ridiculous!” Spoiler complained, waving her arms around in frustration.

“He’s a nice guy, though! He’s like my big brother,” Robin added hesitantly. “So, like, we don’t want to go too hard on him.”

“Yes go hard,” Black Bat added.

Jason snorted.

“You’re our ace in the hole,” Spoiler hissed. “You got all of us-”

“Not me,” Black Bat interrupted.

“All of us MORTALS,” Spoiler corrected herself with a haughty glance at a pleased looking Black Bat. “With you we can finally get his ass!”

Jason made a show of thinking about it for a second. There were plenty of reasons not to do it. For one, Jason had negative interest in anything happening outside of Gotham. For another, he knew next to nothing about this Nightwing guy. For third, it might not be wise to make enemies of some unknown mask, even if the other Bat kids were down for it.

But, who was he kidding. He knew he was in from the second they asked.

“I’m in,” he said finally, eliciting a whoop of delight from Spoiler, a little hopping dance from Black Bat and a begrudging look of satisfaction from Robin. “Let’s get to planning. I’ll make pancakes.”

-----

They eventually decided on a multi-prong approach. The girls wanted to go hard on this guy, so they decided to each play to their strengths. Each of them would go after this guy with a prank they felt was the best match for their skills with Jason as the unexpected coup de grace.

They all jumped in the back of one of Jason’s shit cars and rode together for the quick one hour drive on the interstate into Bludhaven. Once they were there, they all jumped on a comm together and then took off in different directions. The game was on.

Jason went straight to his objective. His job was going to take the longest, but he was more than confident he could get it done in time. After the kids piled out, Jason took the car deeper into the city. Bludhaven really was a shithole, even by Bowery standards. At least the Bowery had character and history. Bludhaven was all strip malls and square cheaply built office buildings piled up beside shitty hipster bars stacked beside gaudy department stores. Nothing was much older than thirty years old, yet everything looked run down and dirty. The sidewalks were miniscule, with no room for kids to ride bikes or even walk or cross the streets. Jason drove for over thirty minutes before he saw a single grocery store. Seriously. These people should eat their elected representatives for breakfast.

Eventually he reached the small security door that Robin had marked on the map for him. He pulled his shitty truck up to the alley and hopped out. Just like Robin had advised him, there was a keypad beside the door and entering in the code caused the door to lift up and in like a garage door rather than a normal door. Jason raised his eyebrows behind his domino mask. Swanky. He grabbed his toolbox and welding kit from the back of the truck before heading down the narrow ramp hidden behind the door.

At the bottom of the ramp he pushed through swinging plastic sheeting and found himself in a hidden garage with a bunch of tools and junk strewn around but the crown was definitely the gleaming glossy dark blue bike siting square in the center.

“Hello, baby. I am going to do some truly terrible things to you,” Jason sang.

As Jason got down to work, the earpiece he was wearing crackled to life and the plan finally began.

Tim was the first leg of the plan because, as the girls had assured Jason, he was by far the best liar of all of them. He would get Nightwing to where they needed him to be.

“A great night for patrol, don’t you think?” Nightwing was saying, grunting like he was stretching or climbing over the comms.

“A perfect night,” Robin agreed. “Spoiler’s hot tip is over on Baltic Avenue. Let’s head over and pick out a good spot to stake out.”

Robin and Nightwing kept up a friendly chatter as they ran the rooftops to get to the fake lookout spot that Spoiler had ‘tipped Robin off about’. Jason worked away as he listened, happily disconnecting transmission lines and removing brake pads.

Once they got to Baltic Avenue, Steph’s leg of the plan took over. Robin led Nightwing easy as could be to the roof of an old multiplex. They both laid down on their bellies and pulled out binoculars to keep an eye on a boarded up office building across the street. Robin really was an excellent liar. Jason couldn’t find a hint of deceit in his voice and he already knew he was lying. Maybe Nightwing knew him better, but if he thought anything was off he wasn't giving any hints either.

After letting them lay there and get comfortable for a few minutes, Jason heard a bit of metallic banging and then Spoiler called out “YOU’VE YEE’ED YOUR LAST HAW, PARTNER!” which made Jason laugh so hard that he almost choked on his own spit.

From the other comms he heard a similar guffaw of startled laughter before the sound of something going Shoom! A deep hollow sound came faintly over the comm. There was a wet splat sound and then Nightwing shouting “OH MY GOD” and a much lower, “Dammit Steph,” from Robin. Which Jason took to mean that she had succeeded in nailing them both with her t-shirt canon loaded with hand towels soaked in purple fabric paint.

Nightwing burst out into laughter and the sound of slapping came over the call, so Jason figured he was trying to brush the paint off his suit. But, since it was fabric paint, he was only going to make it worse. That shit was never going to come out.

“Haha, Spoiler! How- Were you there the whole time?” Nightwing laughed, sounding way too pleased for this prank to be working correctly.

“YOU HAVE BEEN BETRAYED!” Spoiler continued to shout. There was a clatter as she tossed her t-shirt canon aside. “BUT THE BETRAYAL DOESN’T STOP HERE!”

“Haha, what the fuck,” Jason heard Nightwing say quietly to himself.

“HARK!” Spoiler shouted. “THE HARBINGER OF YOUR DEMISE!”

At that the sound of absolute chaos took over the comms, the volume getting so loud that the audio started clipping. Jason heard a shout of “CASS!” and “No! It’s in my mouth!” and “AH! NOT ME!” in beats and snatches. He guessed they didn’t care much about secret identities anymore. Not that he cared. They probably already knew his social security number and the last time he had his flu shot.

Jason would have taken his time to really soak in the truly glorious amount of chaos Black Bat was causing, but the fact that she was out lobbing yellow glitter bombs designed by the great Red Hood himself meant that the last part of the plan was in motion. Black Bat's job was to drive Nightwing (and possibly Robin if Nightwing hadn’t yet realized he was untrustworthy yet) to the garage Jason was hiding in, in the hopes of outrunning her on his bike.

Which meant that Jason only had a few minutes tops to put the final touches on his part of the plan. Luckily, in case it wasn’t already evident, Jason was fast as fuck with a wrench and a welding torch and he was very nearly done.

He was just stepping back and wiping sweat from his brow to admire his work when he heard Nightwing and Robin crash down into the alley outside the fake security door. Black Bat and Spoiler were right on their asses, their cackling laughter echoing strangely as they were picked up by multiple mics on the call. Jason took up a spot behind the bike, his arms crossed over his chest in a way he knew made the muscles in his biceps bulge impressively.

Nightwing and Robin scrambled down the ramp into the garage and Nightwing skidded to a halt three or four feet into the garage when he saw Jason and what was left of his bike. Robin almost ran into the back of him, but was able to stop himself and lean around Nightwing with a demonically pleased grin stretching his little gremlin face.

“May I present to you,” Jason said with aplomb. “The Night Cycle!” and here he swept a hand out to indicate the motorcycle that he had masterfully converted into a motorized unicycle. Still a motorcycle, technically! But now more suited to clowns with an adrenaline addiction than to a vigilante.

“Oh my god,” Robin laughed lowly, walking slowly around Nightwing so that he could circle the bike and admire it from all sides.

“Oh My God!” Nightwing exclaimed, sounding a lot more distressed than Robin had.

And now Jason finally took a second to look at Nightwing. He looked ridiculous, splattered all over with pastel purple paint which was covered again with shimmering primary yellow glitter. But, under all of that, he was also probably the fittest guy Jason had ever seen wearing a skin tight kevlar suit of all black accented in bright sky blue with thick dark wavy hair and the kind of jaw and mouth that Jason thought only movie stars from black and white films had.

Excuse me, why did these children not inform him that their ‘brother’ was a walking sexual awakening on legs? They were truly menaces.

Black Bat and Spoiler were by then sprinting into the garage and not bothering to skid to a stop before slamming into Nightwing’s back, who by the power of a core so shredded you could probably grate cheese on those abs, held himself still under their combined weight. They popped up around him to take in Jason’s masterpiece and their reactions were the butter to his toast.

Spoiler screamed in laughter and fell to the ground on her back, laughing so hard it sounded painful. Black Bat was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her grin spread so wide Jason could see it even under her full face mask.

“I want to ride,” Black Bat said, bouncing over to Jason.

“No!” Nightwing exclaimed, speaking for the first time since he saw his new bike. “Wait, no, please! That has to be so dangerous.”

“Aw, let the little lady take it for a spin,” Jason said, holding a hand out to Black Bat to help her up onto the unicycle. Which she took but didn’t use at all as she hopped up.

“Yeehaw. Motherfuckers,” she said before gunning the engine so hard even Jason lunged to stop her from smacking her face full force into the concrete floor. But, she just leaned forward and shot out of the garage full speed up the ramp, screaming all the way.

“Shit, wait!” Spoiler shouted, sprinting after her. Robin was tight on her heels, leaving Jason and Nightwing alone in the garage staring at each other.

“Are you … the Red Hood?” Nightwing asked slowly, moving to put his hands on how hips and then to cross them and then giving up and letting them hang free.

“Yep. That’s me,” Jason said awkwardly.

“How’d they rope you into this?” Nightwing asked, frowning around at the remnants of his bike. He was taking the destruction of his property surprisingly well.

“We’re buds,” Jason answered easily.

“Buds?” Nightwing asked, sounding really stumped, his head popping up to pin Jason with an unreadable look.

“Yep,” Jason said, popping the p on the word. “I failed to prank Black Bat and it was the beginning of the end. I’m one of them now, I guess.” What he just said sunk in a second after he said it and Jason rushed on to add, “A chaos goblin, I mean! Not a bat. Fucking perish the thought.”

Nightwing laughed, a real laugh not a fake or nervous one and Jason’s already battered sexual orientation took another hard hit. Good to know that all the bats were a menace in their own right.

“Well, I guess I should say welcome to the team. Of goblins, I mean,” Nightwing said, sticking out a hand.

Jason took it and Nightwing squeezed his hand tightly on the shake. Jason’s sexuality trembled. “I didn’t know you were a part of the team,” Jason said, resolutely keeping his eyes on Nightwing’s pleasantly smiling face.

“I’m the founding member,” he replied with a toothy grin.

“Oh,” Jason said intelligently, finally letting go of Nightwing’s hand.

“Anyway, why don’t you help me wrangle the rest of the goblins? They’re bound to have wracked up enough property damage for one night anyway,” Nightwing suggested, jerking a thumb over his shoulder back toward the ramp.

“Oh. Yeah. We can take my truck,” Jason grunted, following Nightwing out of the garage.

“Cool,” Nightwing smiled.

Jason’s sexual orientation crumbled with a sigh.

[ryanhamiltonwalsh]

The first Velvet Underground show in Boston - 10/29/66

In Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968 I devoted many pages in service of fleshing out just how important Boston was for VU in the late sixties. But what I didn't get to talk about was the very first time the band appeared in the city on 10/29/66, which happens to be 57 years ago this week. It's a fine excuse to briefly stop thinking about the ceaseless horrors of the larger world and collate/post a bunch of info I've collected about that show as well as their first show in Massachusetts all together in Provincetown a few months prior.

The Exploding Plastic Inevitable—Warhol's multimedia bombardment of lights, film, live music, performance, and dance—was less than a year old when it was scheduled to appear in Boston. This EPI, featuring the music of the Velvet Underground, was to serve as the culmination of Warhol's exhibit at the Institute of Contemporary Art (the ICA), which at this point was located at 100 Newbury Street (where H&M currently resides). This was only Warhol's second museum exhibition and the mere booking of it at the ICA led to robust conversation in local art cliques. Boston was titillated and ready to have strong opinions about the new pop sensation whom some were calling genius and others a charlatan. More on that in a bit.

But before that exhibit even opened, Massachusetts had gotten a preview of the full Warhol experience late that summer at the Chrysler Art Museum in Provincetown, the coastal resort town located at the very tip of Cape Cod.

The Chrysler Art Museum is the large white building in the background of this postcard on the right.

Since the late 1800's, Provincetown had been in contrast to much of Puritan-singed Massachusetts, welcoming artists and writers as residents and visitors, presenting experimental theater, and supporting thriving art colonies. In 1916, the Boston Globe wrote that Provincetown was 'the biggest art colony in the world.'" By the time the Warhol entourage rolled through, it was also quickly becoming known as a safe haven for LGBTQ folks as well. "There had been a gay presence in Provincetown as early as the start of the 20th century as the artists' colony developed, along with experimental theatre. Drag queens could be seen in performance as early as the 1940s in Provincetown." This, far more than Boston, was the kind of environment you'd imagine the Velvet Underground would be welcomed with open arms. But that's not how things panned out at all.

The Boston Globe previewed the event in late August:

By the time the EPI was set to come to Boston, the Globe preview of that booking (published 9/18/66) was far less dismissive; the write-up noted how the Exploding Plastic Inevitable grew out of Warhol's statements to the press that he had given up on painting (which was a terrific lie):

But back to Provincetown and the Velvets. Save for album opener "Sunday Morning," the debut VU album was already complete at this point, but would not be out until March of next year. Earlier in the summer, the band's first single had been released with Nico on lead vocals on both the A & B side. This no doubt frustrated Lou Reed if not all of the other Velvets. Warhol had convinced VU they needed a mysterious chanteusse in the mix, and they reluctantly, begrudgingly agreed to facilitate Nico's membership in the band while always simultaneously keeping her at arm's length (though both Reed and Cale also eventually both had affairs with her).

On the single version of "All Tomorrow's Parties," the six-minute prepared piano tour-de-force fades out after the 3 minute mark, undercutting its power substantially. The single did not chart. Reed claimed "All Tomorrow's Parties" was about the scene he witnessed at The Factory ("I would hear people say the most astonishing things, the craziest things, the funniest things, the saddest things," he explained) while Cale contends it's about a woman named Darryl they were both pursuing. In any event, it's highly unlikely anyone in Provincetown had heard the single before these performances but, factually, there *was* recorded VU music available out in the world at the time.

The complete EPI entourage in Provincetown featured all the Velvets—John Cale, Sterling Morrison. Nico, Lou Reed, and Maureen Tucker—Warhol himself, dancers Gerard Malanga, Mary Woronov, and Eric Emerson, road manager Faison, and Warhol assistants Paul Morrissey and Ronnie Cutrone. Relatively new to the group was Susan Bottomly (aka International Velvet) with David Croland, her boyfriend.

While it's certainly been mentioned that Susan Bottomly was from Boston (well, Wellesley, specifically), I haven't seen anyone chronicling the VU story or its primary players note that she was also the daughter of John Bottomly, who was not only the State Assistant Attorney General but also the chief of the special “Strangler Bureau," aka a key player in the infamous Boston Strangler saga.

International Velvet's father had never conducted a criminal investigation before heading up the bureau created in order to capture the phantom-like serial killer who had been terrorizing Boston for years, murdering over a dozen women. Bottomly was criticized for the interrogation methods he used on lead Strangler suspect Albert DeSalvo, guiding him directly towards certain ideas and details, for instance, and even more so when he became a paid consultant on the 1968 film The Boston Strangler. Between Bottomly's controversial Strangler hunt being recounted in Gerold Frank's best-selling '66 book, The Boston Strangler, and working on the Tony Curtis-starring-film of the same title, his daughter danced in the EPI, had flings with Lou Reed and John Cale, and appeared on the FEB '67 cover of Esquire sitting in a trash can. Being able to draw a direct line from the Boston Strangler case to the Velvet Underground is truly a hallucinatory, peak-1960's kind of footnote.

But according to Warhol, this was not how the Bottomlys actually felt about Susan's trashcan cover turn and current direction in life: "Her parents weren’t happy with her new ‘career’ - modeling in New York - and later on, when she was on the cover of Esquire, photographed in a garbage can (‘Today’s Girl, Finished at 18’), they were really upset... but they went on supporting her, and she went on supporting lots of her friends.”

Along with Nico, Bottomly was one of the few performers in Warhol's Chelsea Girls film that actually lived at the Chelsea Hotel. Bottomly also appears in the Andy Warhol 1966 film "The Velvet Underground and Tarot Cards" in which, over the course of 65 minutes, all members of the band get their tarot read (there's more on VU's unlikely interest in astrological signs and other occult topics in my book). The film is extremely difficult to screen, but here's a short silent clip featuring Susan.

"I'd be dying to go to bed with Susan Bottomly (International Velvet)," whom Lou was also fucking on the side," Cale wrote in his 2000 autobiography. "Unfortunately [Lou] caught me in bed with Susan and he threw us both out of the apartment." How much of this had already transpired by the time the New Yorkers landed at the curled edge of Cape Cod is unclear.

"Everyone is uptight for amphetamine," Gerard Malanga wrote upon the crew's first impressions of Provincetown and the lack of connections to a dealer in the area. "We're all waiting in front of the museum to go to the beach." Enjoying the beach might have been the last good thing to happen to the EPI team in Provincetown. For starters, apparently, the toilets in the house Warhol rented did not work and members of the entourage were "throwing shit out the window."

Next up, one of the EPI entourage stole various items from a local shop for the show, and the police arrived on stage during one of the performances. They "untied Eric Emerson from a post (which he was strapped to in preparation for being whipped by Mary Woronov) in order to retrieve some belts and whips that were stolen from a leather store." (Source: Up-tight)

Additionally, Gerard Malanga was running out of patience with how little control he had over any visual aspect of the EPI and having to compete for the literal spotlight with the Velvet Underground. In Provincetown, Susan Bottomly refused to dance where Malanga instructed her to and then, during "Heroin," she blocked the spotlight that provided him with any source of light to navigate the space. "I'm in total darkness. Mary is also in total darkness," he wrote in his diary. "Andy seems oblivious to the situation and to my personal feelings."

In a letter written to Warhol but never sent, Malanga griped about the Cape Cod performance: “I thought the Provincetown show got off to a rough but very good start, until you were so kind enough as to let Susan and everyone else not directly connected with the show to get involved with Mary and I on stage…You are slowly taking this away from me by allowing outside elements to interfere with my dance routines…From my vantage point on stage to have more than two dancers the show becomes a Mothers of Invention freak-out.”

Even worse, new dancer Eric Emerson tried to steal a priceless piece of art from the museum "just to see if he could get away with it" and negotiations to return the art without charges being pressed were only narrowly achieved.

Finally, to tie a bow on the cursed Provincetown engagement, the large photograph on the back of the debut VU album was taken during one of the Chrysler Museum performances, and that particular image led to a legal issue which severely affected the impact the first VU LP was able to have with the listening public. It all has to do with the head above the projection of Lou's head, both hovering above the band. That upside down man is would-be art thief and EPI dancer, Eric Emerson.

The best, succinct explanation of the debacle comes from Richie Unteberger's excellent White Light/White Heat: The Velvet Underground day-by-day book:

“Seeing how no one asked [Eric Emerson] about putting his picture on the jacket, he asked Verve for a lot of money,” Morrison later explains in M.C. Kostek and Phil Milstein’s critical Velvet Underground discography. “Verve got scared and airbrushed it out.”

As an immediate consequence, The Velvet Underground & Nico – which has only just entered distribution and the lowest levels of the charts – has to be pulled from stores while Verve/MGM alters the artwork. The delay effectively kills the record’s chances of rising up the charts – not that it goes very far, peaking at a lowly Number 171 on Billboard...When the album finally reappears, Emerson’s image has been airbrushed out, leaving a murky, yellow glow where his face once appeared. Even worse, some copies simply paste an ugly, black-and-white sticker with the album title and Warhol’s production credit over where Emerson’s face had been. There are no winners in this battle.

But how was the music? The Boston Globe's Ray Murphy covered the event and his specific references to the Velvet Underground sound more like how you might describe different shades on a painter's palette than an innovative rock band comprised of five unique individuals:

The performance ended when "all the fuses in the room blew out under the strain of all the projectors, amplifiers, and lights. The quiet made you dizzy."

"It was a wild affair and difficult to analyze," Murphy concluded.

"They got run out of Provincetown on a rail," Cutrone said in summary.

---

Less than two months later, the EPI/VU gang marched right back into Massachusetts for a rematch, this time in Boston proper.

Andy's appearance at the ICA in early October for the opening of his exhibit kicked off the Beantown version of Warhol-mania. The Globe reported:

Guess who this chic hangman was? That's right...

The Boston Globe spelled her last name incorrectly here, but other articles about her get it right.

Warhol, as he often did, just stood there and let people project their ideas onto him.

The paper declared Warhol "the hottest living art personality since Picasso and Dali." Then it was off to the races, with droves of Bostonians visiting to see what all the fuss was about, making it the most popular exhibit in the ICA's history.

Future Fletch novelist Gregory Mcdonald covered the phenomenon weeks into the exhibit for the Boston Globe. Mcdonald conjectured that it's not just people who love his art and hate his art, but also a third category of person who knows it's a fraud but finds it delightful that he's pulling one over on the sophisticated art world.

"His work has the limited future of a soup label," Mcdonald writes, unaware how wrong he'll eventually be proven, but then again, Warhol felt the same way. "My work has no future at all," he told the reporter, "I know that." Outside of a good caption joke about an older patron confused about whether she was at the supermarket or an art gallery, the Mcdonald piece concludes in what can only be described as the writer spiraling out trying to put the artist's ethos and its consequences into words:

"What are you currently reading exists this morning in 600,000 copies," he declares, "but by 2:30 this afternoon will not exist at all." And yet, here I am, reading those words and thinking about that same artist. No one saw what was coming.

The EPI event promptly sold out and an additional performance was added for 11PM on October 29th at the ICA. In the lead up to the show, the Velvet Underground are referred to in the press as a "cultural mafia," a preview of the event says the band will be "unleashed," and that "Boston has not seen anything like it." Admission was five dollars.

---

Just like the Provincetown trip, Boston had its own unique roster of ancillary players involved with the EPI and VU, and a few of them had some connection to a scene that was just starting to develop up on Fort Hill in Roxbury. The Mel Lyman Family, or Fort Hill Community, like Warhol, would soon receive reams of press coverage in an attempt to figure out who/what/why they precisely were. For now, Lyman and Co. had just acquired several dilapidated houses on Fort Ave. in the wake of Mel's initial audacious claims that he was God. Their alternative newspaper, Avatar, would start the following year in June of '67.

Ronna Page, who would dance in the EPI that night, had previously done a Warhol screen test and is the co-"star" of one of the most infamous scenes in Chelsea Girls in which an amphetamine fueled Ondine slaps her after she calls him a phony. It's a real, unscripted moment. It's also one of the most exploitive, squirmish moments in all of Warhol's work. Warhol said the unexpected violence made him uncomfortable and he had to leave the room while it was happening but Mary Woronov, in her memoir Swimming Underground, reported that privately the director said, "it's our best film yet. It's so beautiful."

The description of her screen test: "Ronna Page, lit only from the left, stares hard at the camera without blinking, until her eyes tear up halfway through the roll."

It was Page who introduced filmmaker Jonas Mekas to Mel Lyman at the Paradox Restaurant in New York, a connection that would lead to Lyman's first book, Autobiography of a World Saviour. It's unclear if she was ever a full time member of the Lyman family or just a friend on the periphery. In 1967, a member of the Fort Hill Community wrote of Page in the pages of Avatar:

The darkly voluptuous superstar, Ronna Page's metier is seducing swamis, and there's more and more work for her every day. Everyone's off to see the Master these days. The Beatles, Shirley MacClaine, Mrs. Frank Sinatra (that's Mia), Kandy Kane, Bobby Vinton are all looking for someone to help them on the journey to spiritual salvation. Can't you just see it! In a few years everyone will be going to their "psychia-christ" to the tune of seventy love — dollars an hour. But as long as our lovely Ronna is around, she'll weed out the swamis who are not bent on salvation but are bent over something else.

The subtext of this gossipy blind item is unknown, and whether this is in praise of Page or a dig is hard to say. In the 1966 "Expanded Arts" issue of Film Culture, Mel Lyman is listed as available for "A full evening show alone or together with Eben Given, Ronna Page, Jonas Mekas, light, images, voice, human presence" (Film Culture 43 [1966]: n.p.).

Also part of the Warhol entourage in Boston is artist and future art critic Rene Ricard, who was actively trying to avoid the Cambridge police for living illegally on Harvard property "and numerous flower thefts - from gardens, flower shops and particularly an alleged heist of one of Andy’s flower paintings."

In a November '67 article in Avatar, apparently Rene wrote an anonymously disparaging piece about himself:

A raging, high-pitched, red-eyed little transvestite called, get this, Rene Ricard, attacked Mel Lyman the other night in the back room (the place) of Max's Kansas City. Mel, slightly startled, but always the Master of the situation, just shut the little thing up by slapping his face. It turned out the reason for his attack was somehow everyone in New York thinks he's ME and he feels that I am ruining his name — YOUR name, you little bitch, think what you're doing to MINE!

Uh, ok. Sure. Maybe you had to be there.

Some of the NY entourage stay with Gordon Baldwin, others with Ed Hood, and because Nico only appears with the Velvet Underground a few times in Boston, this date is a fairly good candidate for one of the times the band stayed in the houses of the Mel Lyman Family. From AW68:

On one such occassion, when Nico simply helped herself to someone’s bed, the German singer was bluntly instructed to find somewhere else to catch some sleep. Personnel from the band and a Fort Hill Community member had certainly crossed paths at least once before; Faith Gude and VU’s whip dancer Gerard Malanga had a brief affair in the early sixties.

At 9PM, Saturday, October 29th, the first Velvet Underground show in Boston began.

Gerard Malanga sets the scene in Up-Tight:

In Jack Bernstein's review of the event for MIT's The Tech newspaper, he knew he had seen something ahead of its time:

To borrow a phrase, "it's the shape of rock to come." Andy Warhol's Expanding Plastic Inevitable featuring The Velvet Underground with Nico performed their new 'psychedelic rock' at the Institute of Contemporary Art Saturday. The biggest difference between this music and the stuff you get on 'frantic forty' radio is that you have to see this to believe it.

Bernstein describes the disorientating nature of the opening of the EPI with its lights, films, and a sense something was about to happen. And then:

Their first number, 'All Tomorrows Parties,' which, incidentally, has been released by Verve records, featured Nico singing, and the Underground, electric bass, electric guitar, electric piano, and supersonic drums, providing the most driving backing I've ever heard...the technical armament of Velvet Underground is something fantastic to behold...the most starling of all was two huge gas-discharge lamps which would flash in syncopated time as the music reached its climax. The only aspect of the performance which could been improved upon was the group's tendency to rely on the background material for too long between numbers, but once the music started, all was forgiven.

It sounds like an unadulterated win, but just like Provincetown, apparently, the New Yorkers left feeling down about the gig. EPI entourage member Susan Pile had a fairly grim assessment of how it all shook out in the end in a letter to her friend:

"Boston’s reaction was an incredible rejection. The thing is, those who do not get involved with the show tend to react in loud objection; those who do get involved are too overcome with the experience (capital E) to do much of anything. And the show in Boston was beautiful--it was a stage show in the auditorium - no dancing by scum on the floor."

But Pile also noted, "the Velvets are getting so much better--their album is done, but everyone is becoming disenchanted with the idea of touring." In truth, it wasn't quite done, and it was going to be awhile before it came out, and even then, it wasn't going to get the praise and adulation it deserved for decades, arguably. A long, long wait was ahead for the band, as an entity and even as a name. Think of the anticipation and crazed majesty of this first performance compared to the final Boston VU show, at Oliver's on Lansdowne St in 1973 with no original members and Doug Yule leading a competent bar band through a set that included some Velvet Underground songs. There would be a long free fall towards obscurity before they would be crowned one of the greatest to ever do it.

"One of the more celebrated rock groups..." indeed.

As would become tradition, the post-VU-Boston-show after party was held at Ed Hood's place in Harvard Square. Pile recalled, "A totally paranoid party - millions of people at Ed Hood’s in total isolation, everyone stoned beyond belief and uncommunicating."

The EPI in Boston generated an avalanche of stimuli, information, and discussion. Maybe everyone had done enough communicating for the night.

[tapwrites]

Episodic vs Serialised Storytelling

One way of avoiding the dissonance between what the audience thought would happen in a later story, and what does happen in a later story... is to not set up any expectations in the first place.

Star Trek, and The Next Generation are told episode-by-episode. Almost all episodes are self-contained stories, with the only thing carrying over between stories being the characters themselves. And then, the characters don't have any real long-term goals or interpersonal drama carrying through.

So there are no expectations beyond the characters existing next time. That's an easy expectation to live up to, in the next episode.

Some film series are episodic too—think of Indiana Jones. Or Fast & Furious. Nothing changes permanently as a result of one part, at least not stuff that anyone cares about. So fans there aren't hints about what's coming next. And so, fans don't imagine their own stories that would happen next. And then when the sequel comes around, there's no bulldozing their fan-fic, and no let-down that the cool hinted thing wasn't there.

(I mean, Indiana Jones does its best to disappoint in other ways, but not because it's forgotten about the previous film.)

Instead of being left "open-ended," inviting the viewer to imagine what might happen next episode... they are "closed-ended."

Each story ends with the Cosmic Reset Button.

By the end of the episode, of film, or novel, everything's back to the way it was. And the audience can know exactly where they stand next time. Or—in the case of TV broadcast series—they can hop into any episode in any order and they'll never feel they missed something.

Episodic storytelling has its advantages and disadvantages...

Because each episode tells a complete story, the viewer is left satisfied. And, if they like the series, they're happy to enjoy another complete story next time.

The disadvantage is, you don't have hours on hours to build up the drama and suspense and mystery and whatever else you want to use to string the audience along and keep them watching week-to-week. All that's got to fit into 40 minutes. And the thing that keeps people coming back is that they like the characters.

But that's also its strength, as a format. You have to write solid, tight scenes. It has to be interesting all the way through, because you can only fit in the good parts. This is the same reason why novel writers cut things out—scenes, sub-plots, entire characters—to tighten up the narrative, and keep things interesting.

Star Trek Voyager had an over-arching plot about slowly travelling back home, which stayed in the background and poked its head in from time to time. But it wasn't something that weighed heavily on the characters' minds, and so wasn't an ongoing concern pulling on the viewer.

Star Trek Enterprise had 2 seasons with their own over-arching plots, which tied into each episode. But still, each episode was its own self-contained story, with a satisfying conclusion. (It struck a very good balance in my opinion.)

In the old days where everything was episodic, you might have a sprawling epic of a story you want to tell. But you have to cut the fat (boring parts that don't add to the story) to cram it into your 40 minutes runtime.

And you can't just run it over 5 episodes, because the requirements of the format is that each episode can be enjoyed by itself. So edit it down, tighten it up, or that story's getting canned!

With the advent of streaming services, the requirements of the format have changed. And episodic shows have changed with it.

Streaming episodes don't have to fit between adverts; they can be as long as the writer wants them to be. So all the flabby parts that don't need to be there stay in. What's up, Orville season 3?

And streaming series can have as many episodes as the budget allows. So you can take your way-too-long episode script and chop it into 3—who cares? Only now, those flabby boring scenes that don't need to be there take up entire episodes, before the "end" of that arc arrives and things actually happen. Hey there, Andor.

Since Lost started the trend, serialised shows (one longer story told in many parts) are a lot more popular nowadays. These longer stories can really grab your attention with their intricate plots and ongoing suspense over "What's going to happen next?" Although...

Serial writers often forget to make stories interesting as you watch them.

Game of Thrones has a strong over-arching narrative about houses vying for power, back-stabbing ne'er-do-wells, and shocking twists of main characters getting shuffled off the mortal coil. But in the early days, each episode followed one clear thread, ending in a satisfying (or maybe horrifying) conclusion.

As the seasons went on, however, the threads became more spread out. Instead of getting one arc from beginning to end, we would get the middle of 10 different arcs. And, as none of those arcs would end, not a lot of satisfaction would be gotten that way. All you'd have is a tiny bit of progress on all the different arcs, making each individual episode quite uneventful.

...Until the final episode of the season, where everything is--in theory--wrapped up in one go. That's a tall order! And if it isn't handled just right, the whole season, all those threads, all those hours of watch-time can feel like a huge waste of time.

I love slow-burn storytelling. But if the ends don't justify the means (or the ending doesn't justify the slowness of the burn), it's always going to be a let-down. And if the slowness is to the degree of 10 hours of watch-time over 10 weeks of your life... that pay-off better be darned mind-blowing!

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 We Are Not Checkmated (muted)

3. "Democracy is a meaningless sham as long as the working class is under the boot-heel of capital."

+1 Communism

Level up!

That's Mazovian Socio-Economics coming in with the bonus XP for saying Communist things.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant clears his throat. "Of course, the detective's personal views do not represent the views of the RCM."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Ah, my friend, but the lesson of the Revolution is that communism does not work."

"It 'didn't work' because the Coalition crushed it violently."

"We just haven't tried *real* communism yet."

"And you're telling me *this* world here is working out well?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Oh, yes, the big bad Coalition crushed the Revolution. Tell me, if the revolution was succeeding, would it have been crushed so easily?"

"Are we really so bad for wanting compromise, peace, and prosperity -- on reasonable, achievable terms? Ask yourself that."

"Now, enough of this delightful political interlude. Was there anything else you wanted to ask?"

6. "Tell me about Sur-la-Clef."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "What's there to say? Sur-la-Clef is a modern, urbanized country that measures very high on the Human Development and Freedom Index. Mostly, though, it's known as the executive heart of *EPIS*..."

"Moreover, it is a great sponsor of less-emerged countries. Revachol is only one of its many darlings whose progress it supports and cherishes."

"What makes Revachol Sur-la-Clef's 'darling'?"

"That's nice of them."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Because a great percentage of Revachol's culture hails from Sur-la-Clef -- its language, its people, its cuisine even, or at least in the downtown La Delta area."

PERCEPTION (TASTE) [Medium: Success] Jamrock and other parts of the International Zone have been mercifully spared of Sur-la-Clef's love for meatballs and mashed potatoes.

7. "Tell me about Oranje."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Oranje is an *exemplary* nation who, as a core member of EPIS, contributes 28% of our annual budget. Next to Sur-la-Clef, Oranje is probably the most prominent member of the international community."

"Which one of them is more EPIS?"

"Okay, but outside of EPIS, what is Oranje?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "As founding members they are *both* very EPIS. Oranje carries a lot of political weight, while Sur-la-Clef takes care of the business side of things -- Sur-la-Clef hosts the headquarters of the major EPIS institutions."

"Okay, but outside of EPIS, what is Oranje?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Oranje's economy is one of the most advanced in the world. It has successfully transitioned from heavy industry to advanced services, and generally acts as an engine for sustainable change in the international community."

"Can't you just… talk like a normal person?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "About what?"

"About Oranje -- just tell me what it's like there."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Oh, it's very urban and very well-organized. Their streets are clean, their horsecars run on time, the people are polite and efficient. Like I said, they are an example for less-emerged nations to follow."

8. "Enough business, let's talk about something else."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Whatever you wish, officer."

3. "Can you tell me about your friend?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Ah, my friend. My friend is a good young man. His family immigrated here from Kedra and life has not been easy for him. But he understands the importance of education. He has taken his future into his own hands and that's all that matters."

"What's Kedra?"

"How did you two even become friends?"

"You still haven't told me who he is."

"What are you doing in his apartment by yourself?"

"I had something else in mind..."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Kedra is a candidate member of EPIS. But, between you and me, their potential membership is a more... *contentious* issue."

"What do you mean?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "That it's never going to happen. They entered negotiations in '21 and it's been pending ever since."

"What's this EPIS thing you keep talking about?"

"But that doesn't tell me anything about Kedra itself. Is it warm there? Cold? Something in-between?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "EPIS is a very special program developed by the Moralintern to support certain Occidental nations. It began as a unified system of weights and measures, which proved to be a *wild* success. Nothing but kilograms and centimetres as far as the eye can see!"

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - God, yes. Sweet standardisation. The backbone of rationality -- and commerce.

SUNDAY FRIEND - "It was *such* a wild success that we expanded it into an economic union for the processing of steel -- another success. And between you and me... the Moralintern feels *emboldened* by this success. Emboldened to take EPIS to the next level."

"Okay, but like, what does it stand for?"

"What's the next level?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Why, it stands for progress and stability, like the Moralintern as a whole."

"No, what do the *letters* stand for?"

"Sure, fine. What's this next level you were talking about?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "It's been such a wild, *extraordinary* success thus far. We are very excited to take it to the next level..."

"You don't even hear the words I'm saying, do you?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "A supranational political alliance, the United States of Occident."

"Is it going to be like this place here?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "You mean Revachol? No, it's going to have transparent democracy."

"Is Revachol going to be part of EPIS?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "It's one day going to be a *candidate member* of EPIS, sure."

"Didn't you say that candidate members never become real members?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "No, no, candidate members *do* become members, why do we even have the whole system in place if they don't? It just takes time -- time and evaluation."

"But we were talking about my friend here, not politics..." He chuckles gently.

2. "How did you two even become friends?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "How did any of us become friends? Bad things happening on the Insulindian isola. Oil platforms ablaze in the night. Civil wars lasting for years. Finally, the international community is forced to step in."

"What are you talking about? No one becomes friends that way."

"You're describing how the Coalition occupied Revachol."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "One of the wonders of democracy is that everyone is allowed to have his own opinion." The man pats his pockets, looking for something. "And not just allowed, *encouraged* even. Have you ever tried debate?"

"What do you mean?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Debating. You should consider joining a debating society for adults. I hear they're *oodles* of fun. I used to have a flyer for one, but..."

"But now that I start to think of it, it was for an improv class anyway. It's this funny theatre thing, you know," he moves his fingers, "very *creative*, helps relieve stress."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - A chill runs down your spine as you envision a half-dozen people in professional attire standing around a chair awkwardly pretending to be waiting for a motor-bus. It's neither funny nor creative.

3. "You still haven't told me who he is."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Sorry, who?" The man throws a quick glance at his watch.

"Your friend, the smoker on the balcony. We were just talking about him."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "But I told you, officer. He's a bright young man here to pursue his education. Education is the foundation of our future, especially the arts. It is a cornerstone of our civilization."

"Fine, but what's his real name?"

"So all you can tell me about him is that he's here to study the arts?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Officer, you have to understand... I can't give you his personal information. I'm sure you have your own methods and databases, right? Please don't put me in this situation."

2. "So all you can tell me about him is that he's here to study the arts?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "He's deeply enmeshed in the study of the fine arts, yes."

"Which arts?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "He's a truly free spirit. He likes all the arts. Perhaps graphic design? Printmaking? Who knows? The world is open wide for a talented youth like him."

4. "What are you doing in his apartment by yourself?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "I'm just enjoying the view," the man smiles, nodding to the window.

"What view? It's dark outside."

"Isn't it rude for your friend to leave you alone like this?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Listen," he says, raising his hand...

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - A baby is crying in the neighbouring apartment.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Legendary: Success] - Waves crashing in the distance, the sound of sea below the window.

"I can hear the waves."

"Someone's baby is crying."

"What? I'm not hearing anything."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "The Insulindian Bay."

"What about it?"

"I was asking about your friend."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "This place used to be a luxury accommodation, before the Revolution. Apartments, of course, were much bigger then -- a few walls have been added here and there, leaving some of the tenants without a private bathroom or a kitchen..."

"But the million reál view stays. You can't take that away." He knocks on the balcony door, his face mirrored in the darkened glass.

"I was asking about your friend."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "My friend comes and goes. I'm sure you'll see him around, he's a busy bee."

5. "I had something else in mind..."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "I'm all ears, officer."

4. "Thanks, I've got all I need." [Leave.]

SUNDAY FRIEND - "A moment, officer."

"Do you have everything you need from me? I'm afraid we won't have the chance to speak again once you leave."

"Hold on, why can't we talk later?"

"I'm not going anywhere, I just want to take a look around in this apartment." [Leave.]

"Thanks for the heads up, but my work here is done." [Leave.]

SUNDAY FRIEND - "It's against diplomatic best practices for an official in my position to be discussing murders with local militiamen." He pauses. "And I'm pressed for time. After you leave, I should be leaving as well."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - That's not the real reason he's so apprehensive -- men in his position shouldn't be seen loitering around in underprivileged young men's apartments in the middle of the night.

There's nothing else we're going to get out of this guy, unless we want to accuse him of the murder. And as much as I'd *like* to do that, I get the feeling it's a bad idea.

2. "Thanks for the heads up, but my work here is done." [Leave.]

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Of course, I'm sorry I couldn't be the 'break' you were looking for. Good luck with the investigation."

[daisiesonafield-blog]

Info for Faith In The Future World Tour STERLING HEIGHTS, MI - JUN 2 2023

With special guests THE ACADEMIC & SNARLS!

Important Times:

3:30 PM - Parking opens

5:30 PM - Doors Open

7:00 PM - Snarls

8:00 PM - The Academic

9:00 PM - Louis Tomlinson

Times are all approximate. The show information is subject to change.

Details here.

General admission (pit tickets):

Fans can START lining up at the Main Gate at 9:00 AM on show day only and will be given wristbands

Any fans that have camped overnight or arrive before 9:00 AM on Day of Show will NOT be given wristbands and therefore be granted access to the venue AFTER guests with wristbands.

Concourse opens at 5:30 PM.

Pavilion will open at 6:00 PM.

Security will be managing the pit lines and will help everyone get lined up and into the pavilion.

Times are subject to change.

🔆⚠️ HIGH TEMPERATURE ADVISORY ⚠️🔆

Temperatures are expected reach the 90s F (33ºC)!

Hydrate before the show, while waiting in line and during the show

For optimal hydration drink something with electrolytes such as Gatorade or LiquidIV

Wear sunscreen!

Eat well!

Here are important policies:

The venue is CASHLESS! Pay with a card or mobile pay!

Parking: Parking is free. Parking fees are included in the ticket price. VIP Parking is included in all Season Member tickets. Parking info and map here. Public transit info here.

ADA info here 

Cameras: Point and shoot camera are allowed. Professional &/or commercial cameras with interchangeable or detachable lenses are not allowed. Professional cameras, tablets, audio recorders and video recorders are not permitted

Small binoculars allowed

Umbrellas are allowed, except pointed tip umbrellas.

Blankets ALLOWED

Juice boxes ALLOWED only if you have children in your party or for medical needs

Headphones ALLOWED

Knitting needles ALLOWED

Seat cushions ALLOWED

Small radios ALLOWED

Battery operated/ rechargeable, handheld fans ALLOWED

Battery operated coats, gloves, and vests ALLOWED

Beach chairs that are no more than 12 inches from seat to ground, are not in a carrying bag, and do not have compartments.

NO outside food or drinks

NO Animals (except service animals)

NO smoking

NO Aerosol cans (hairspray, mace, pepper spray, etc.)

NO Marijuana or illegal narcotics, including accessories or paraphernalia associated with marijuana or illegal narcotics use

NO glass, plastic or metal containers

NO coolers

NO knives, firearms, mace, pepper spray or weapons of any kind

NO Ipads

NO selfie sticks

NO Noisemaking devices

NO Beach balls or other inflatable items

Food and drinks info here.

There is NO RE-ENTRY!

VIEW VENUE MAP

VIEW SEAT MAP

For more details click here and here

Bag Policy

BAGS, PURSES & CLUTCHES LARGER THAN 4" x 6" x 1.5" ARE PROHIBITED.

SINGLE COMPARTMENT BAGS, WALLETS & CLUTCHES SMALLER THAN 4" x 6" x 1.5" WITH OR WITHOUT A HANDLE OR STRAP ARE PERMITTED.

Exceptions to this policy include:

Bags, wallets and clutches needed due to medical necessity. Medical necessity include Diaper bags, Breast pumps, Oxygen, Insulin, Epi-pens and other medical devices.

Banners, signs and flag policy:

Large Banners and Flags: Guests are not permitted to use or waive flags, banners, signs or other items that are affixed to any pole or stick made of wood, metal, plastic or any other hard material and that is more than 11” x 17” in length.

Contact:

For additional questions please call the venue at 313-471-7000 or 313.471.7425. You can also access their website. Email GuestExperience@olyent.com. Check their twitter here and IG here for updates. Address: 14900 Metro Pkwy., Sterling Heights, MI 48312

[startrekplotnthemes]

Season 4 Episode 26/ Season 5 Episode 1 Redemption

Worf starts the episode by requesting a leave of absence in order to talk with his brother. With growing tensions within the Klingon Empire he attempts to convince Kurn of the need to support Gowron leveraging his status as the elder of the two, claiming Kurn has to follow him. Meanwhile Picard is handling the proceedings and is about to instate Gowron when the sisters of Duras bring forth Toral, the proclaimed illegitimate son of Duras.

In the interim the two sisters attempt to persuade Picard to accept Toral as a legitimate air, going as far as to make threats on the Federation if he does not instate Toral as the de facto leader. Picard sticks to what he believes is right however claiming that Toral lacks the experience with battles and war that would make him a proper heir. Yet as Gowron is instated a large portion of the council rallies behind Toral. Worf approaches Gowron as the two factions prepare for war, offering his and Kurn's support and manpower if Gowron restores his honor.

Gowron initially refuses to consider the possibility of restoring it but after allies of Duras attack and Kurn arrives to wipe them out he relents and restores Worf's honor. Meanwhile, to allow himself to participate in the conflict, Worf is challenged by Picard who informs him that the Federation cannot get involved. In order to fight for his people Worf resigns from StarFleet so that he can ally himself with Gowron without conflict of interests handling a matter of rebellion. Picard arranges for all of the members of the Enterprise to stand to the sides as Worf takes his leave, thanking him for his service. Meanwhile the sisters of Duras rebuke Picard for his cowardice, till a Romulan bearing a resemblance to Tasha Yar suspects he will be back.

While unable to participate in the war Picard does get the Federation's permission to set up a blockade between the Klingon and Romulan borders using a net like structure to detect any Romulan ships passing through the area. Commander Sela, the Romulan who bears a resemblance to Tasha, reveals herself, claiming to be the daughter of Yar. Guinan informs Picard that Tasha was alive aboard the Enterprise C that travels back to its original time. It is revealed that Tasha became a consort of the Romulans in order to spare the life of the rest of the crew, eventually giving birth to Sela.

While this is going on, Data and Worf have their own struggles. Worf, getting frustrated with the constant infighting over strategy meetings, ends up kidnapped by the Duras sisters. Meanwhile Data has been put in command of the Sutherland but faces pushback from his First-In-Command who does not see Data as a fit commander of a starship. Worf, abducted by the sisters, deals with an attempted seduction and promises of power if he works with them, but rejects them citing the desire to not be beholden to the Romulans.

Picard suggests Gowron wages a full-out assault on Duras's forces, tipping the Romulans hand, making them cross the blockade. Gowron agrees and the sisters of Duras call for help predictably. Sela has her scientists come up with a device to disrupt the technology that would detect the Romulan ships. She disrupts the blockade causing the blockade to reorganize. While she would be able to slip through, Data uses the disruption, ignoring the orders to regroup and firing torpedos in the area where the disruption was detected revealing Sela's ships. 

Once revealed Sela is unable to take more resources to the Duras sisters taking things over the edge for Gowron. Worf uses an opportunity to take out his Romulan guards and capture Toral while the sisters escape, essentially ending the conflict. Picard officially estates Gowron as leader of the Klingon and Go wrong grants Toral's life to Worf because of Duras's dishonor of his family. Being just a child, Worf opts to spare Toral's life and asks Picard to rejoin the Enterprise.

This episode is a culmination of several episodes over the last season surrounding the existing Klingon conflict. The second part in particular deals with characters who seem out of place. Data must contend with bias towards him being an Android while Word struggles to adapt to the more aggressive Klingon culture focused on honor and combat. Meanwhile Sela shares her own tragic story as a half Romulan identifying instead with the empire that raised her. Meanwhile, Worf is finally able to get his honor back but chooses to spare Toral. It is about legacy, not taking his right and legacy as a Klingon, symbolically asking to get reinstated back into the Enterprise.