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pheita · 3 years

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NaNo Prep The Halloween Party Part 2

After two hours, Rodrigo slowly began to understand why Liz had gone here as an alternative, even though this strange après-ski imitation in one part of the club was the first to irritate him. The music was a good mix of all genres and the dance floor was surrounded by small seating areas. The only thing that worried him a little was the fact that she had ordered a so-called vodka boat first thing, and they probably had enough vodka and Red Bull to get through the night for the rest of the party and still had energy like an Energizer Bunny afterwards. Liz next to him tipped the rest of her vodka and Red Bull mixture down and shook her head. “You'd think people would be more creative than this," she screamed away over the music and waved her arm towards the dance floor. There, devils, angels, demons, monks, skeletons, people with scream masks, witches and the classic disparaging Mexican and Chinese costumes gathered. "You expect creativity from the Hanoverians?" he laughed only at their annoyance.

"Yes, I know, we're not exactly known for it. But still. Doesn't it bother you?" She nodded towards a guy in Mexican costumes with a sombrero, gun belt and all that crap. Rodrigo just shrugged. "I don't know any other way. I learned to ignore it as a child. No one was ever on my side anyway. They just told me not to get in line. It would be harmless fun." Liz rolled her eyes. "This is bullshit." "It does suck. But let's not do this." He took the bottle of vodka to refill, only to find that they had emptied the bottle too far too soon. Questioningly, he looked at Liz. "What? This is only a pint bottle? After four glasses, it's empty." Thinking that the bottle had to be bigger, Rodrigo looked at it confused and realized that she was right. As soon as the bottle was empty, everyone had a Red Bull on. "I thought you were going to get me drunk." She started laughing. "Don't worry, but a little alcohol is fine. And if we need something hard, they have Fuck here too." At that moment, Rodrigo was glad he knew she meant the schnapps. The only thing that worried him was that he already knew how Liz gets when she was drunk, and he had no idea how to get an endlessly laughing Liz back home. Another two hours, the last Red Bull and two shots that were necessary to endure the Woo Girls in front of them, later Liz had managed to drag him onto the dance floor. Rodrigo felt uncomfortable despite the alcohol, but tried to push it aside. Liz involuntarily helped him when she made a grimace, because next to them a couple in monk and nun costumes were holding the dance floor for their bedroom and clearly there was more going on than just making out. When a guest with demon horns tried to get past them, Rodrigo pulled her towards him, which only made her giggle. "What's so funny," he asked, leaning slightly down towards her so he wouldn't have to scream like that. "You really are like Star Lord." No sooner had she said it than her laughter had gotten worse. "Tamika meant something like that." "I must get to know her," she giggled on. Rodrigo didn't know if it was Liz, the alcohol or the evening as a whole, but he didn't want to let her go. Even though he thought Vespera was great and if he was honest, clearly had a crush on her, he also knew that it was useless to be attached to her. Especially when someone as wonderful as Liz liked him. Her finger on his nose brought Rodrigo back from his thoughts. Confused, he looked at her. "What was that for?" "You're thinking again." "As far as I know, we all think without end." Her head fell on his chest. A moment later she looked up again. "You're thinking too much." "Things have gotten better." Liz looked at him from the side with a grin. "Because of me?" Rodrigo just nodded. Slowly it became tiring to talk against the music. Besides, there were a lot of people standing around her. "I have an idea." Fearing that the idea would again contain something that put him well outside his comfort zone, he followed Liz off the dance floor and out into the smoking area on the roof terrace. Smiling, she stopped and put her arms around his neck. "Still up for some mischief?" "Mischief?" Her grin widened and Rodrigo's fears grew. "Let's get another drink and have our own Halloween party." "And where?" "At my place." Unexpectedly, it sounded like the most sensible idea. He nodded thoughtfully and received a kiss in reply.

When he woke up the next day, he regretted having seriously considered her suggestion. He couldn't tell how much alcohol was left, but Rodrigo still knew that they had ordered pizza first, bought chips with the alcohol and sometime later they had the idea to bake the frozen rolls because they were hungry after watching "The Little Shop of Horrors" on DVD. It was already bright again when they both fell asleep on her couch leaning against each other and now everything hurt like hell. At least Liz had a good sleep after the snoring. He debated with himself if he would be able to get up without waking her or if it would make more sense to just sit and laugh at himself because he thought Liz was a cat. Disgruntled Liz moved and mumbled to herself. Exactly one second later she seemed to realize that she was not in her bed, because she suddenly sat up straight and looked at him with big eyes. It only caused Rodrigo to laugh for good. "What is so funny?" she asked in a rough voice. "You really are a human cat." "Tell Mr. I'm super cuddly when drunk." "What?" "You know what I mean," she threw back and stood up to stretch. As she went to change, Rodrigo wondered if something had slipped his mind, so he didn't see her throwing him a hoodie. Irritated, he looked at the garment. "I hardly think your clothes will fit me." "This is yours, you idiot. You gave me yours the other day after a customer threw up on me." "Oh, that's convenient." "I know, teddy bear." Before Rodrigo understood what Liz had said, she had disappeared into her bedroom again.

@captainpenguin-fly @merigreenleaf @adie-dee @petrolstationflowers @mouwwie @writinginslowmotion @chris-the-dragonslayer @nana-writes @viawrites-andacts @bookishdiplodocus @cometworks @elenajohansenauthor

#writblr #guiding star #nano prep #the halloween party #part 2 #liz #rodrigo

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lykanthropa · 5 years

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End of Contract

Summery: The contract of the 9 mercenaries of Mann Co. has expired after 5 hard years. The boys are looking forward to return to their families. But there is a clause in the contract that was not obvious

Home time (?)

In the early evening, the Mercs, laughing and chatting, return to their base in 2Fort in Engie’s Truck after successfully completing their mission. The golden evening sun accompanies them. In the last 5 years they have carried out many missions, fought, died, returned and fought on. Commanded by a woman of whom they only know the voice. The Mercs just call her The Administrator. There are loudspeakers everywhere in the base. Through these, the administrator gives them the commands. And not just that. There are cameras, through which she watches them. But this mission was special because it was the last one. The last time the mercenaries had to fight. After 5 years their contract expires and they can go back to their families. They are already sitting on packed suitcases. Tomorrow morning their train will leave. Although they are all looking forward to returning and leaving Mann Co. behind, each and every one feels a little twinge in their heart. They are all used to each other, they were like a family. It hurts when they have to part.

2Fort, a so-called map, was also part of some of their missions in the past. They often had many different bases in which they had lived. 2Fort is a small, completely fenced-in area with two buildings facing each other, connected by a wooden bridge construction with a roof under which is a water basin where the sewage water from both bases flows into it. The special feature of these buildings is that they are completely different from each other. One is wood, the other metal. One red, the other blue. Previously they had fought here with an opposing team for each of the opposing secret material, while their own was to be protected. The Mercs had always said that playfully "capture the flag", but the last mission of this kind has been over a year. And since then they have not heard anything from the opposing team. They do not know if their contract has already expired or if they are employed elsewhere. Anyway, the blue metal building is now a taboo zone, which must not be entered under any circumstances. Strict instruction of the administrator. But none of them has too much curiosity anyway. Not even scout. The orders have always taken them completely in and now they have only the journey home in focus.

One last time, the mercenaries carry their weapons down the Intelligence Room, where their secret material was once located. There are now 9 large, straw-filled boxes. It's hard for the boys to part with their weapons. Heavy hugs his minigun. “Oh Sasha... Heavy will miss you.” Medic and Engineer give him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “It's okay, Heavy. Take your time. It is also difficult for me to let slip away my Medigun forever. And for the others it's certainly no different.” “Yeah... It's kinda weird...”, Scout agrees and looks at his scattergun before placing it in the box. Soldier imitates him, embeds his rocket launcher on the straw and salutes goodbye. Spy takes his last cigarette out of the disguise kit and places it in one of the boxes along with the butterfly knife, the sapper, and the watch. Followed by the grenade launcher and stickybomb launcher, the flamethrower (from Pyro's point of view it’s the rainblower), the rescue ranger, the sniper rifle and the medigun. Only when these weapons have found their place, Heavy brings the courage to separate from his Sasha and puts her carefully in the last box. “I feel somehow naked and defenseless without my weapons,” remarks Demoman. “Yes, but I’m sure that we will quickly get used to normal life again. And then all this will be nothing but a faded memory in the back of our minds.” “Pfft! Spy. Always positive, aren't you?” “I just wanted to cheer him and everyone else up. Anyway, I'm glad it's over, because I think you should finally pursuing a decent and, above all, a normal job, Jeremy. Just like us adults did before we came to Mann Co.” “Yeah, sure. Vacuum cleaner salespeople like you, or what?” “What? The fine Frenchman was a vacuum cleaner salespeople?” Demoman laughs. “That would explain his preference for suits.” “Vacuum cleaner salespeople are America's natural enemies!” “Screw you! I will not follow in your footsteps. I will become a world famous baseball player!” Heavy bangs on the table. The bang makes everyone present wince and the Russian has their undivided attention now. He looks around one. “Why do little men argue? Today is last day as a team!” “Heavy is right” Engineer agrees. “We argued the last 5 years. Today, on the last day, we should get along without quarrels and enjoy the last few hours together.” Sniper lifts his arm. “I’m in. I just want to chill out.” “Yo Snipes, you've been chilling out all those years in your nest while chilling aiming with your sniper rifle at the heads of our enemies and then chilling killed them. By the way, you have drunk your coffee and not even to piss you got up. You didn't have to move a millimeter. More chilling is not possible. And today, on the last day, you want nothing else than chilling. Care to respond?” “…Sniping's a good job mate!” Amused laughter fills the room. “Hudda!” “Pyro says he's hungry” Engineer says. “Aye! Where you mentioned it.” Demoman holds his stomach. “Me too.” A loud crackle from one of the loudspeakers on the ceiling attracts the attention of the Mercs and shortly thereafter the well-known voice of the administrator speaks to them. “Good job, mercenaries. I'm very satisfied. As a token of my appreciation and because your last mission was today, I have prepared a feast for you. Go in front of the respawn room.“ “For real?! What are we waiting for then?” Demoman, Scout, Sniper and Pyro start running. Spy sighs. “Will this kid ever grow up?” “That comes from having European genes. If he were a complete American, there would be nothing wrong with him!” As Spy walks by, he answers, “Well, Mon Ami, that just means American genes are not dominant. Besides, sometimes you behave like an immature child, too. You know?” “Take that back, Frenchie!” Soldier follows the Frenchman in a scolding tone. “I think I'll miss that” Engie says with a smile. “Da. It was nice time.”

Heavy, Medic and Engineer are following the others. “What about you, Doc?” “I will miss the legalized experiments and everything about it.” “Will doctor miss team too?” “Hm? Oh! Yes, sure.” Heavy gives Medic a reproachful look. “Of course I'll miss you too, Heavy. After all, you were my only family I ever had in my life. I think I just get used to being alone very quickly.” “Don’t you have anybody waiting for you at home?” “No. When my parents died shortly after my 14th birthday, I was all alone from now on. That's why I'm sorry if, back then, when we first met, I behaved defensive and sullen. Even though I always had to deal with people. But they were patients to whom I had no emotional connection. Unlike you. Maybe that had overwhelmed me a bit.” “We didn't know. You really don't have to apologize, Doc.” Medic makes a gesture of refusal. “It's okay. Just let it be. Let's enjoy our last evening.” “OH MY GOD! How cool is that?” Scouts voice echoed through the base. “Must be something big, if it makes the boy cry like this” says Engineer with a smile. A delicious smell of meat and gravy comes to meet them shortly thereafter. “God, Scout! Wait at least until the others are here!” they hear Spy admonish him. As Medic, Engineer, and Heavy arrive at the top, they are also amazed when they see this large table extending from them to the respawn room. Adorned with a snow-white tablecloth, nine plates were placed on the left and right of the table, with three large silver dining bells in the middle, hiding hot delicacies. One of the bells has already been removed, releasing the scent of roast pork in the air and enveloping the whole base. Around it are small plates with different salads. Scout already wants to lift the second bell, but Spy wants to stop him. “No, Scout!” “Pfft! Don't pretend you don't wanna know what's underneath. Besides, all are here now.” The second bell reveals different kinds of meat. Sausage, schnitzel, spicy-looking buffalo wings and steaks. The various fragrances mingle in the air and make the Mercs mouth watering. Under the third bell are sandwiches. A little disappointed, Scout shrugs his shoulders and turns his attention to the meat. Heavy, on the other hand, is delighted. “That looks pretty good” says Demoman, but looks disappointed. “But where is the swill?” “Here, mate!” Sniper reaches under the table and brings out a bottle of rum from there. Demoman copies him and discovers other bottles. Wine of all kinds, schnapps, beer. Even vodka is there. “Yeah! Now it's a party.” The Scot opens a rum bottle and takes a sip from it. “Now let's sit down and finally eat!" The Mercs like to follow Scout's request and everyone is looking for his place. "Hehe. Hadn't thought that the old woman would do something for us like this.” “She can hear you, boy” Engineer reminds him. “Was not meant pejorative. I just mean I didn't expect that from her. After all, she always appears so cold and callous. I always thought she doesn't care about us.” The Mercs are digging food on their plates. There is something for everyone and the plates are individually filled (for Pyro there is only one bowl of soup with a straw, but he seems to be very happy about that). But before they can take a bite, it crackles in the speaker above them on the ceiling. Scout makes himself very small. He's worried that his words will now be doom him. All mercenaries look up to the loudspeaker, waiting for whatever the administrator has to tell them. “My dear mercenaries, my last command to you is that you eat as much as you can. Enjoy your meal. Take your time. Consider this dinner as your last meal. When you are done, I will contact you again. And now - good appetite.” It crackles again in the speaker and it becomes quiet.

“…last meal?” “In fact a very strange term” Medic agrees to Heavy. I think it fits. I will not eat like that for a long time anymore.” Scout is about to tuck in but Soldier bangs his fist on the table, making the dishes clatter. “Not now, private!” “Now, what is it?” “First a prayer is spoken!” “Are you kiddin’ me? I'm starving!” “I'm not a believer, but I agree with Soldier.” “Pah! You can talk. You just beheaded a bottle and have had a few already. That's why you're talking nonsense.” “Scout, please. Only once.” Spy speaks with such gentleness in his voice that even Scout cannot argue with that. Or wants. “Hmpf! Whatever…” The Mercs fold their hands for prayer, close their eyes and lower their heads. “Holy Mary, mother of Joseph.” “Oh God…” “Gott im Himmel.” “Silence! At a dinner prayer only one speaks! Holy Mary, mother of Joseph. We thank you for this meal. And thank you for the last five wonderful years I could kicking Faggot-Maggots in the ass.” The others secretly open their eyes and look at each other. “You've been protecting us all the time and I ask you to continue to keep holding your protecting hand over my team wherever they go. Also the Europeans and the Aussie. Amen.” “Wow, Soldier... We didn't know you felt that way for us.” Engie's face has a heartwarming smile and the others feel equally flattered. Also Scout, but the boy doesn't want to show it and instead says: “What do you mean by your team?” “That's right, City Boy! You are my team! You have always been. I'm responsible for you and that's why I pray for you. Finally, I'll have to let you go tomorrow. I cannot take care of you anymore. In addition, I'm sitting at the head of the table! That says everything!” “We'll miss you too, Soldier.” “You will!” “Okay, okay! Now we can eat, right?” “Dig in, son” gives Soldier Scout his permission, and he takes that literally. Scout takes the steak in both hands and bites a big piece off. “God, Scout! Use at least knife and fork! If your mother would see that.” Scout's mouth is überfull, so he uses his middle finger to answer. “Hmph!” Spy pours himself a full glass of wine, leans back and tries to ignore Scout's antics. Heavy has opted for steaks and sandwiches. But mostly sandwiches can be found on his plate. Medic next to him enjoys a sausage in addition he eats (by the most untouched) salad. Only Sniper also uses the healthy greens. Demoman and Soldier are also among the meat-eaters, although Demo is actually more drinking than eating. And Pyro sips his soup comfortably.

Engineer starts with the Bufallo wings. They are actually as spicy as they look. They taste almost like the original from Texas. Only now does the mid-forties realize how much he misses his home. But the homesickness will not last long, because tomorrow it gets back home. He will return to his ranch, to his beloved barn, where he can tinker with his machines. And then there's his old father waiting for him… “Hey boys. What will you do when you get back home?“ he asks almost melancholy. Scout wants to be the first to answer, so he greedily chokes down the piece of steak. but it gets stuck halfway and he begins to cough and choke. “Medic!” he managed to scream, but the doctor remains calm. “It's quitting time” he just answers merely and continue to eat. Spy hits the kid on the back with his hand, but that doesn’t work either. He reaches for his bonk and pours the energy drink into his throat. “I'll return to the heart of America and develop my skills as a soldier!” “Does that mean even after Mann Co. you still want to work as a mercenary?” “No, I will only fight for my country and for that I have to keep myself in shape. Who knows when the Germans start World War III?” “Hmph! So this is how you thank me for treating your wounds? But since I know you, I will not blame you” Medic answers cold. “You are excluded!” “Aha, and why that?” “Because you are half an American!” “Interesting. I did not know that yet. I assume that was a compliment. Thanks for that.” “What are you going to do, Doc?” Medic looks thoughtfully at Engineer for a moment. “Well, actually I would like to continue to work as a doctor, but for that I would need a license and I'm not sure if I would get those at my age. I also believe that the world is not ready for my kind of medical knowledge. I think I will use the money for pigeon breeding.” “Why pigeons?” “Not any pigeons. White doves. I train them as carrier pigeons and send them to you every few years.” “That sounds nice. But they would have to travel long distances. Could they do that anyway?” “With my medicine, they could easily fly around the world in 80 days.” “I'm already looking forward to my first carrier pigeon” replies Heavy. “And then Doctor will not be alone anymore.” “You're right, Heavy. I will have many pigeons. And I will give eight of them your names.” “I didn't know you could be that emotional, Doc” Sniper joins in now. “The last five years have been something special for me. And like every human being I try to connect these memories with something from the present to bind this beautiful time to me.” “I think we all will. What about you, Sniper?” “Hmm ... As much as I love my job as a sniper, I'll probably have to hang it up and help my parents on the farm. For years they have been in my ears how worried they are. Well, at least my mother. My dad used to scold me that I should finally looking for a decent job.” “Like a farmer?” “Yes…” “You should do that, Herr Sniper. Your parents are not the youngest anymore. You should be with them while they are still alive.” Thoughtfully, the Australian nods and stares down at his plate. “Hey, chin up, lad. I know how you feel. My old mother is also the last one I have. I know she will not live forever either, so I give up my job as a bomb specialist and enter into the family business. My mother's wish is that I take the company over after her death. She always says that it should stay in the family. That means for me that I should start my own family. But I'm just too old for that. I spent my youth working on bombs, perfecting myself so I missed out on starting a family.” “Is she angry with you because of that, partner?” “Nah. Even when I was a child, she forgave me all the mischief I've ever done, even though she was very strict. Especially after the death of my father. Probably because I'm her only child. We have a very close relationship and as long as she lives, I will not leave her side.” “Anyone with parents understands that they care about their children. Neither mother nor father want them to survive their children. Scout's mother only allowed him to work as a mercenary because I'm with him.” Having finally won the fight against the stubborn piece of meat, Scout swallows it and takes a deep breath. “How dare you? I can take care of myself!” “Scout, you screw up the whole mood…” “You can't tell me a thing! You're not my father!” “Yes, I am.” “I wish you were not.” “How can you say that, boy? A well-bred son does not talk to his father like that.” “He was never there for me! He was always on the road to work as a spy for some moneybacks. That was more important to him than me and my Ma! If I be wrong, tell me!” “………” “Exactly. When we get back home, you will continue to work as a spy and leave us alone again. You make me sick!”

A veil of silence falls on the team. Engineer feels bad. He just wanted to have a nice conversation with his team and not provoke a fight. He wonders if he should tell Scout that his mother and father are holy and that he can be happy to have both, but he decides differently and stays silent. Only Demoman interrupts the silence. “What about you, Engie?” “Huh?” “What will you do afterwards?” “I will return to my ranch. To my workshop and my dad.” “And what does he say about your career choice?” Sniper asks curiously. “Well, I would say that I really take after him. In his youth he also worked as a mercenary.” “At Mann Co.?” “Yes. I was 20 when he returned. He was... changed. He never talked about his job. I had the impression that he was the only survivor to come back from a war. He had retired. Even when mother died, he didn't attend the funeral. I'm the only one he still has and whom he trusts.” “I’m sorry, Engie.” “Thank you. I appreciate it.” “And you, Heavy? You cannot wait until you're back with your mother and sisters, am I right?” Medic gives the Russian a well-meaning smile, which Heavy replies. “Da. Miss my family very much. I'll take care of them. Have earned enough money to make ends meet for many years.” When Heavy speaks so proudly about his family, the mood in the room lights up. “And what are we going to do with Smokey Joe here?” Soldier throws into the room and everyone looks at Pyro. “Hhmpf?” “Yes, what happens to Pyro? Does he even have a home or family?” Pyro lays his head to the side. “I think he has nobody…” “If so, then one of us should take care of him” Engineer suggests. The rest of the group is silent. Nobody wants to have Pyro near them. Especially not near their family. It tears the Texan's heart, but he can understand it. “Oh well, Partner. Then you come with me.” “Hudda?” “My ranch is very big. There are also horses. You like animals, don't ya?” “Truckie, are you sure you want to do that?” “Why not? There is enough space. Besides, Pyro and I had always had a close relationship, hadn't, partner?” Pyro claps his hands like a little child. “Well, at least he understands you better than us... But actually, I meant more like his preference for fire. In Texas, it is very dry and on your ranch there is certainly a lot of wood?” “I'm will be have an eye on him. It will be fine. When repairing machines, he may use the welding torch. That will distract him.” “Whatever you say, mate.”

It's getting dark outside. The ceiling lamp above the table now gives them light. After two hours, the table is almost completely empty. Scout leans back in his chair and strokes his filled stomach.” That was good. If that had really been my hangman's meal, I could die now in peace.” “I completely agree, Kiddo” confirms Sniper. “I could fall asleep immediately. I have never looked forward to my bed that much.” “…I will miss you. Thank you for all the nice years and your friendship. I will always remember it. Also this moment.” “This constant, emotional impregnated blarney really is a pain in the ass…” growls Scout. “He says he will miss you as well” Spy translates. Scout is far too bloated with food and too tired to discuss with his father why his middle finger is used again. He is annoyed. Annoyed, because Spy is right. It starts to crackle again in the speakers above them. “Now the administrator addresses the last word to us. I will somehow miss her voice…” “Did it taste it?” The nine affirm her question in different ways. “Surely you cannot wait to return home tomorrow, are you? Unfortunately, I have to disappoint you. You will never see your families again.” The mercenaries caught their breath. Initially, Scout thinks that's a joke, which is why he says with amusement: “What? Do we have to do the dishes ourselves? As much as this is, this could actually take years.” But the boy soon realizes that neither the Mercs nor the Administrator laugh. “Right?” he asks uncertainly. “You will not leave this place alive.” Soldier shoots up from his chair. “That's egregious! I fought for Mann Co. yearslong and that's the thanks I get?” “You all have read your contract?” “What does the contract have to do with it?” Demoman barks. His voice trembles. The thought of never seeing his mother again makes him panicked, scared and angry at the same time. “There is a clause in it that may not be obvious.” An unholy silence settles on the team. “If the contract expires, the mercenaries must be killed.” Terrified faces - and yet they somehow knew it. They should have known it from the moment the Administrator used the word hangman's meal. Because this woman never jokes. But what would that have changed about their situation? “Where exactly should this clause stand?” Spy asks almost tonelessly. “I have had your contracts brought to respawn room.” Spy sets out to walk the few yards to respawn room. The gate opens and there he sees them already lying. All nine contracts are lying neatly side by side on the bench. The Frenchman takes his contract and returns to the others in the vestibule, leafing through the few pages. He is a quick reader, but he cannot find a contract clause that entitles the Administrator to kill them after the contract expires. It would have been more than foolish to sign this contract with such a clause. That would have been suicide. “I can’t find it.” “You will find it under the clause of confidentiality.” “A clause in a clause. I assume that Mann Co. is hoping that the people they are hiring cannot read between the lines.” Spy looks at the camera in the corner. The small, permanently red glowing point that they have been exposed for years appeals suddenly very threatening. “This clause is the most important of all, but it must not be too obvious. That would scare away mercenaries.” “Quite rightly!” “Believe me. It's a shame to get rid of men like you, but everything you've done, seen, and heard here must not go outside. That's why you have to die. I didn't make the rules, but if I oppose it, Mann Co. will need a successor for me.” “But you are not averse to it, are you?” “Not at all. It's purely business.” “I assume that the BLU team did not travel home or was transferred, am I right?” “You are right with your guess. They are dead.” Scout starts shaking all over. He takes a deep breath and then jumps up from his chair. With his index finger pointing at the camera, he yells: “Bullshit! That's bullshit! You cannot do that! They would search for us!” “You mean your families? Their efforts would not be crowned with success. Mann Co. is a shadow hidden in the dark, impossible to track down. Your fate is sealed from the very moment you signed this contract." Medic looks back and forth between the Mercs. His gaze finally lingers on Heavy. He was completely silent the whole time. His horrified look is directed at the empty plate in front of him. How must he feel inside, after these words? What does it feel like to be told that you will never see your family again? Medic does not know. He has no family. He has nothing to lose. But he will do everything possible to make the others return home. Almost with complete calm, he looks up at the camera. “How should we be killed?” “In the same way as the BLU team was wiped out.”

Suddenly a loud noise penetrates their ears. It echoes throughout the place, sounds like a commissioned machine. Quick the Mercs make their way to the outdoor platform, from where they have a good view of the BLU building. There are now the lights on which lights up the dark night sky brightly. From there comes this disturbing sound. “What happens over there?” “No matter what comes our way, we will not give up without a fight!” announces Demoman. “You have your weapons at your disposal. But remember, your respawn codes have been completely deleted. There will never be a way for anyone of you to return. Good luck.” And with that the speaker becomes silent and the mercenaries stay alone. “That I will miss her voice, I take back immediately.” “That’s alright, partner. You couldn't know that. No one of us could it.” With horrified, angry, and incredulous eyes, they stare across to this large, factory-like building, which has something in it that want to kill them. But whatever that may be, they will fight it. Their last fight as mercenaries begins. And this time it's all about life and death. Soldier takes the floor. “So, soldiers! You heard it! The war is not over yet! We are tired and exhausted, but give your best for the last time! And don't forget! You are the best of the best! Let us Mann Co. regret the day they hired us!”

#TF2 #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 pyro #tf2 heavy #tf2 scout #tf2 administrator #tf2 red team

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hazzasgayvodka · 5 years

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17 * SNAP OUT OF IT * 17

Impact: Chapter 17

Chapter title song: Snap Out of It - Arctic Monkeys

JESS

I wake up to see the sky already dark outside his window. He's snoring softly above me and I turn in his arms to look up at him. The usual crease between his eyebrows is nowhere to be seen and the constant smirk that adorns his lips has been replaced with a parted pout. He stirs in his sleep as my phone buzzes on the nightstand and I curse under my breath as I untangle myself from him and turn it on silent.

Despite my efforts to keep him asleep, he rolls over into my lap and peels his eyes open with a groan. I mindlessly run my fingers through his bedhead as I scroll through countless posts I'm tagged in from the party last night. Most of them are just drunken sing-alongs and the beer pong game but a significant few are pictures of me and Harry kissing.

"What are you looking at?" He asks quizzically, straining to look at my phone while leaning on my shoulder.

"It's nothing." I sigh, turning my phone off and setting it back on the side table.

"It's not," He says, looking up to meet my eyes, "What's wrong? You went from being fine to being pissed in like two seconds."

"It's just," I huff, wondering why I'm even mad about this, "There's so many people posting about us kissing last night and rumors are everywhere about me dating two guys."

"So what? Who cares?" He laughs, standing from the bed and walking over to the mirror above his dresser.

"I do, Harry," I sigh, following him to the other side of the room, "I don't want to be known as some school slut."

He turns around suddenly, grabbing me by the shoulders, "Hey, you aren't, it's just a bunch of people with nothing better to do than talk shit."

I sigh, letting my eyes drift from his to the floor but he's not having that. He grabs my chin in his hand and tilts my face up to meet his again.

"If it's bothering you than let's do something about it." He assures me.

"What are we going to do? Never speak to each other again?" I huff.

"No, obviously not, who the hell would I play beer pong with?" He laughs, "No, we're gonna go somewhere."

"How is that going to help?" I groan, watching as he paces over to his closet, deep in thought.

"I've got it, The Stroke." He says simply.

"The what?"

"The Stroke, it's a bar on the rougher side of things but-"

"Wait, a bar? That's how we're going to fix this?" I huff, folding my arms across my chest.

"Listen dollface, think about it, I'm intoxicated in a room full of easy women, it won't take long for the student body to find another rumor to spread." He winks smugly, a smirk spreading on his face.

I roll my eyes, shoving him out of my way to get to the bathroom but of course he follows me all the way there defending his idea.

"My god Harry, you're so-"

"Charming? Charismatic?" He suggests, leaning against the closed door of the bathroom, "Oh wait I've got it, ruggedly handsome?"

"How about not nearly as badass as you think you are." I smirk, opening the door and shoving him back through it.

I close it again and hear him protesting on the other side, his fist banging against the wood.

"Jess! Oh come on, I'm joking you-"

I open the door abruptly to see him with his arm still raised in the air, the end of his sentence dangling on the end of his tongue.

"What was that you were going to say? You...fantastic person who is also my best friend in the whole world?" I grin and the worried look in his eye vanishes as he throws his arm around my shoulders and walks me back to his bedroom.

"Yes, exactly what I was going to say." He laughs, shoving me into his room and shutting the door behind us.

We agree to meet Sam and Louis at the bar in an hour. Sam is overly excited considering I never want to go out anywhere and both of them are overly in love from staying with each other for a solid week alone. As soon as we get inside they're sitting on barstools and grabbing all over each other, their lips super glued together.

I turn away from the burlesque next to me to see Harry snapping at the bartender to get his attention. He comes over with a pad of paper, a pen, and a name tag that reads Kevin.

"I'll have a Jager bomb and she'll have a vodka and sprite." He says nonchalantly, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it between his lips.

I roll my eyes knowing that he is fully aware that I'm not a fan of vodka. He turns to me with a smirk and blows a cloud of smoke the other way.

"Can I get some I.D.?" Kevin asks, interrupting our staring.

Harry turns to him with his eyes narrowed, removing the cigarette from his lips. While Kevin looks unbothered I know that Harry's about to chew him up and spit him out.

"I.D.? Really kid?" He asks, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to display his forearms completely covered in tattoos, "How's this? I didn't get these yesterday mate."

Kevin rolls his eyes, "Listen, it's procedure."

Harry huffs, his cigarette bobbing between his lips as he takes out his wallet and produces his I.D., sliding it across the bar counter and I do the same. Kevin takes a look at both of them and nods, handing them back to us but Harry grabs mine before I have a chance to.

"Harry, give it back, it's horrible." I groan, reaching around him to grab my I.D. from his hand.

"Wow, Jessica Rose, huh?" He laughs, handing it back to me.

Before he has a chance to put his away I snatch it from his hand hoping to see his middle name too. I'm surprised by his picture to see his hair cropped short and his arms free of tattoos. He looks like any regular guy without any metal in his face and his hair above his shoulders.

"Oh my god." I gasp, holding it out of his grasp as he wraps his arms around me to get it back.

I scan the rest of it, Harry Edward Styles. Birthday is February first, he's twenty-five.

"Hold on, wait," I think aloud, turning to see his face over my shoulder, "You're twenty-five?"

"Yeah, why?" He shrugs.

"Because we're both seniors and you're another three years older than me. You started college at twenty? I thought schools in the UK graduated from high school sooner than us, not later."

"They do, I just didn't go to college right away." He says carefully, taking the card from my hand and putting it away.

"What did you do out of high school then?" I ask curiously, the image of him tattooless still in the back of my mind.

He opens his mouth to speak but Kevin cuts in, placing our drinks in front of us as well as taking orders from Sam and Louis who have pulled away from each other long enough to get two beers. I desperately want him to finish explaining but we're once again interrupted as a blonde girl in a pink dress approaches him with a wicked smile on her lips.

"Harry! I had no idea you'd be here tonight." She smirks, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, Lynnette, what's up." He grins, turning on the charm as he turns to talk to her.

Suddenly I'm between two parties of flirting, third wheeling on all sides and wishing I could just go home. I take a sip of my vodka soda and gag, putting it back down quickly and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Lynnette grabs Harry's hand and starts to drag him towards the dance floor before he's barely taken a sip of his drink. I know he needs at least two beers worth of alcohol in his system to be up for dancing, but he lets her drag him to the middle of the crowd.

She grabs onto him, running her hands down his chest and moving her hips in ways that I could never. His hair is sticking to his forehead in minutes and his hands are roughly grabbing her waist and moving her against him. She presses her lips to his and I turn around, sighing as I come face to face with the bartender.

"You've got some shitty friends." Kevin remarks with a smile as he leans on the bar top across from me.

"They're just having a good time, this isn't my scene anyways." I shrug, mistakenly taking another sip of the vodka soda in front of me.

He laughs when I nearly choke on it, putting it back down and pushing it away from myself so I don't accidentally drink it again.

"Want a real drink?" He asks, taking the glass away from me.

"Please." I laugh.

He grabs a shaker and multiple bottles of schnapps and syrups. He measures them all expertly before pouring the mixture into a cocktail glass and garnishing it with maraschino cherries. He slides it to me and I bring it to my lips, taking a small sip of the sweet pink drink.

"I call it the love potion." He grins, expectantly.

"It tastes amazing, almost too good, I could probably drink five of these and not feel it until I stand up." I laugh, taking another sip.

"I'll make four more if you let me drive you home after." He smirks, finally working his play into the conversation.

I open my mouth to answer but I'm cut off by his voice behind me and his hand on my shoulder. I look up to see his face reddened and I can't tell if it's out of anger or being flustered on the dance floor.

"Don't you have some glasses to clean up?" He huffs, glaring at Kevin.

"No?" Kevin says innocently.

Harry grabs the cocktail glass and shoves it off the bar top, letting it hit the ground and shatter into a million pieces.

"Now you do." He smirks, grabbing my hand and dragging me away.

I rip his hand away from mine and shove him away, "What the hell are you doing?"

"You didn't drink any of that did you?" He asks, cutting me off.

"Yeah, I did, I was having a great time until you just had to-"

"Jess shut up, how much did you drink? Did you see him make it?" He asks worriedly, grabbing my shoulders worriedly.

I shrug him off, finished with his over protectiveness, "Harry this isn't some college party, he didn't lace my fucking drink!"

He grabs my hand midair and tugs me to him, keeping his voice low, "Jess, this place is famous for drugging girls up, they have a track record."

I roll my eyes, trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He's always like this, trying to scare me into letting him control me. My mind goes back to Kevin's suggestion of letting him drive me home. No, he's wrong, he's just trying to make me nervous like he always does. I was barely talking to a guy and he just has to ruin it. Meanwhile he's eating Lynnette's face on the dance floor and I do nothing. Not today, not tonight. If he's going to ruin my night, then I'll ruin his.

"You're right, I'm sorry." I say as confidently as I can.

He eyes me warily, he knows this is out of character. I've never apologized, perhaps that was too far. I grab his hand and drag him back to the bar where Lynette is sitting with two beers for the two of them. My blood boils when I look next to her and my eyes land on none other than Ashlyn, waving Harry over to them excitedly. I grab Harry's hand and wrap it around my waist instead. I can read his eyes as we approach the only two seats left at the bar, I can nearly hear his voice in my mind, "What game are you playing, Lawson?"

He takes a seat on the barstool and Lynette offers me the only one left right next to him.

"No thanks, I've already got a seat." I grin, taking a seat on his lap and nearly making him spill his drink.

I reach for his denim jacket, hung on the back of his chair. I slide it over my shoulders and grab his beer from his hand, bringing it to my lips and taking a sip. Lynette and Ashlyn are looking at me with daggers for eyes and Harry is trying to suppress his surprise.

"Oh, it's you, what's your name again?" Ashlyn asks carefully through gritted teeth.

"Jess, you're Ashlyn, right?" I ask.

"Yup, that's me," She smiles, "so I didn't know you and Harry knew each other."

"We sure do, we hang out all the time, not sure it's in the same light that you two, hang out, however." I smirk, raising my eyebrows.

Her jaw nearly hits the ground and suddenly Harry is choking on his beer, spitting his sip back into his cup accidentally. I lean back into him, grabbing his arm and wrapping it around my shoulders. I smirk at Lynette, a confident grin to let her know to walk away. I know I've had the intended effect when they both stomp away from us and over to Sam and Louis sat at the other end of the bar.

Harry picks me up and sets me back on the ground, getting off the barstool and following them. I grab his hand and tug him back to me and he eyes me angrily, glancing between me and the other girls a few seats over.

"What the hell are you doing?" He huffs.

I wrap my arms around his waist loosely, catching a glimpse of Ashlyn's angry stare from the corner of my eye. I can't help but grin as I look up at him, his own face pulled taut and glaring.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I smirk, releasing his waist and taking his hand instead.

"Jess, I thought-"

"Call me dollface, you know I like it better." I tease obnoxiously as I lead us past them making it loud enough for Ashlyn to hear clearly.

He looks at me like I'm insane, he knows how much I hate the nickname. I decide we're both going to need another drink if I'm going to make this work. Just glancing at Ashlyn makes me livid and reminds me of the time I walked in on her and Harry in her dorm. It makes me sick just thinking about it.

"Fine, dollface, I thought we were here because we didn't want people to-"

"Let's dance, come on, Louis and Sam are already out there." I say quickly, cutting him off.

I feel Lynette and Ashlyn's eyes on me as I drag him towards the dance floor. I shove him in Sam and Louis's direction and go back to the bar to order two double whiskey cokes. I bring the glass back to him and clink them together, both of us knocking our heads back and chugging them down. He's eyeing me warily; does he know what I'm up to or have I fully confused him?

I grab his hands in mine and tug him to me, turning around in his arms and placing his hands on my waist. I move my hips to the pulsating beat coming through the speakers around us and bump into countless sweaty bodies around me. He's rigid at first, continuing to spew questions of what I'm doing and why I think this is a good idea, but I don't care, I only pay attention to the awestruck faces of the two bimbos sat at the bar.

I can feel the whiskey hitting him as his movements get sloppy. Surely enough his hands are moving all over me and my vision is doubling. The world around me is moving like it's under a strobe light. I can hear my heavy breathing echoing in my ears and the bass from the speakers is thumping in my chest. His hands are like fire on my skin, holding me against him and occasionally reaching to rub the sweat off his forehead.

Suddenly his lips are pressed to the back of my neck and I'm gasping as every inch of my skin is covered in goosebumps. He blows cool air against the veil of sweat on my skin and causes a shiver to run down my spine before his lips continue moving down my neck and to my collar bone. I'm nearly shaking in his arms as the fiery feeling of his lips on my skin lingers. Suddenly Sam is standing in front of me and grabbing my hand to tug me towards the pool table. I'm ripped away from him and as soon as I'm no longer intoxicated by his touch I can think clearly. What the hell was I thinking? What just happened?

"Come on, there's a pool tournament, Louis and Harry should play." She slurs, tripping over her own feet as she drags me along with her.

Louis and Ashlyn are already leaning against the table with beers in one hand and pool sticks in the other. I look around for Harry and my eyes meet his across the room. He's chugging a glass of water, blinking his eyes rapidly and swallowing hard. I walk myself over to him and convince myself not to grab his face and kiss his swollen lips.

"I thought we were, I thought we weren't doing this." He says exasperatedly.

"Doing what? Surely I have no idea what you mean." I smirk, my words slurring as they pour from my mouth.

His eyes follow me, and I can sense the anger in his glare but the way he's eyeing me with his lip ring pulled between his teeth tells a different story.

"You make absolutely no sense, dollface." He groans.

"I know, now come on," I grin, grabbing his hand and tugging him, "You said you were going to teach me billiards and I'm holding you to it."

He reluctantly allows me to lead him to the now crowded pool table. He picks up the remaining pool sticks from the corner and passes one to me as Louis and Ashlyn walk around the table, blindly shooting at the billiard balls on the table.

"Have you ever played pool?" He asks, leaning on the table and lining up a shot into the right corner pocket.

"Maybe once or twice." I say but it comes out sounding more like a question.

He brings his arm back and shoots the pool stick forward quickly, causing the sharp snapping sound of pool balls hitting each other before he sinks two of them in the right corner pocket. I don't expect him to be as good when he's drunk but he stands up proudly, his usual smirk adorning his stupid face as he tosses his pool stick back to Louis.

"Alright, Lawson, bend over." He smirks, obviously buying into my challenge.

"Cute." I muse, rolling my eyes as I meet his glossy, drunken ones and he moves behind me with that slumped grin on his face.

He guides me to lean over the table just like he was and wraps his arms around me, holding my arms in the right position. He pulls my right arm backwards and prompts me to shoot it forward just like he did. Despite being worried that I'll somehow injure him with my elbow, I do as he says and hit the striped ball straight into the left middle pocket. I look over my shoulder to see him already staring, a huge grin covering his face.

I hear Ashlyn's huff of exasperation from across the room and my eyes just barely flicker to see her walking back towards the exit into the full bar. Just seeing her sauntering across the room makes my blood boil and my eyes instantly move back to Harry to make sure he's not watching her little show. When his eyes drift to her, I'm livid. I hate that he's staring at her the same way that he was staring at me only a few minutes ago.

I position myself against him, leaning even further down against the table and I feel his arms tense around me as he helps me line up for my next shot. He sucks in a breath, his body going rigid against me.

"Fuck, baby, what are you doing?" He grunts mindlessly.

His words make me shiver and instantly I want to do anything that will make him say it again. Suddenly Ashlyn and Lynette are nowhere in my mind, only images of his swollen pink lips and dangerously green eyes. I turn around in his arms and he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, that just came out-"

I cut him off, grabbing a hold of his shirt and tugging him down to me, connecting our lips. Our lips meet with a smack and several gasps can be heard around the room. He's surprised at first, his lips like statues as he tries to take a step away from me, obviously I caught him off guard.

"Jess, what are you doing?" He mumbles against my mouth.

"Shut up and kiss me." I huff, wrapping my arms around his neck and threading my fingers through his hair.

He smiles against my lips, that devious smirk of his, I can taste the liquor on his breath. His hands reach around my waist and pull me flush against him, causing my breath to nearly catch in my throat. He presses his mouth to mine, much more elegantly than I did. His hands reach down and grip my ass, pulling me upwards to straddle his waist before he sets me on the edge of the pool table and positions himself between my shaking legs.

Every nerve in my body is exploding with fireworks as his lips move against mine and Howlin' For You plays through the speakers above us. I can feel Ashlyn's eyes on us along with everyone else's, the surprise in the air is tangible. He pulls away from me and rips his denim jacket from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, his burning eyes never leaving mine. The curve to his lips and the severity of his gaze sends a chill through me and I'm shaking as he leans back into me and tugs my lip between his teeth, making me shudder.

Suddenly he pulls away from me all together, grabbing his jacket from the ground and shrugging it back up on his shoulders. He takes out a cigarette and lights it between his lips, running a hand through his now messy hair, while I'm sat on the edge of the pool table, frozen. Why did he stop?

"Why did you-" I mutter, my voice barely audible.

"Show's over, right?" He quips, cutting me off, "They all left." He smirks, gesturing to the empty space around us.

"What?" I huff for the second time tonight, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just didn't think you were the type." He shrugs thoughtfully, leaning against the wall and twirling one of the pool sticks in his hand while he takes a drag of his cigarette from the other.

"What type?"

"The jealous type." He laughs.

"I am not jealous." I argue, "I have nothing to be jealous of."

"Oh, whatever. Look me in the eye and tell me that kiss wasn't just a stunt because you want to prove something to Ashlyn." He says maliciously, stepping closer to me and leaving the pool stick leaning against the wall.

"I have nothing to prove to Ashlyn! Who cares what some whore thinks of me!"

"Exactly." He smirks, "So why does she get to you?"

It takes every fiber of my being not to scream in his face that it's the way he wraps his arm around her waist that makes my blood boil. That thinking of the day when I walked in on her in his room makes my skin crawl. Any thought of her is enough to bring on a rage I haven't felt in a long time and all I want to do is shock her to the point that her perfectly puckered lips hit the floor along with her gaping jaw. If he would have just left me alone with Kevin none of this would have happened, he could have gone home with Ashlyn and I wouldn't have batted an eye. I wouldn't have wanted to ruin his night just like he ruined mine. This is his fault.

"I can't believe you think I'm stupid enough to get caught up in this jealously bullshit." I sigh, turning away from him.

He reaches for me as I'm walking away and calls my name behind me, but I just keep going. I'm not jealous, there's no way I'm jealous. What do I have to be jealous of? Sure, Ashlyn has him along with every other slut on campus, what do I care? But why would he kiss me back like that if he thought it was all a show? Why did he play along?

My head hurts as I approach the crosswalk and try to decide where to go. If I could go back to hugging Miles in the drive way I would, I never would have walked into that bar. I made a mistake, that's all, it was nothing. The tingles from my fingertips to my toes, the exquisite feeling of his smirking mouth pressed to mine, it was nothing. It keeps replaying in my mind over and over and suddenly I realize it was something, it was everything, because now I'm sat at a cross walk at midnight, miles from anywhere with my trembling fingers pressed to my electric lips hoping that the feeling of him pressed against me never fades.

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wineanddinosaur · 4 years

Text

In a Post-Covid Era Fueled by Nostalgia, Will We See the Return of Fern Bars?

Even before the Covid-19 pandemic struck, drinkers were beginning to eschew the buttoned-up, somewhat pretentious, neo-speakeasy style of bar that had defined the early stages of the cocktail renaissance. Comfort, friendliness, and simply having a “good time” were suddenly starting to become more important for everyone. In Columbus, Ohio, two offbeat bartenders decided to take that ethos to the next level.

It was 2019 and Beam Suntory was looking for a way to get craft cocktail bartenders to start acknowledging DeKuyper, its low-brow liqueur brand, which had certainly seen better days. So the company approached Historic Revelry, a Columbus-based creative agency run by local bartenders Joshua Gandee and Chris Manis. Always up for playful ideas, the two realized there was only one way to truly celebrate DeKuyper.

“Let’s reintroduce it the way people already know it,” says Gandee. “At a campy, chain restaurant — and through the forgotten cocktails of the ’80s and ’90s.”

While the running trend had been for many top-50 bars and bartenders to spend less time running their own joints and more time doing high-brow, high-dollar pop-ups across the globe, Gandee and Manis decided that they’d launch a pop-up — the Royal Fern — designed to recall a simpler, cheaper, and, yes, cheesier era.

“But I hadn’t been to those restaurants in a really long time,” says Gandee, who notes his first-ever job was as a busboy at Red Lobster when he was 15. “So it’s like looking at photographs, and you wonder if you really have a correct memory or you’ve just memorized the photo.”

The Royal Fern would hope to mimic a time from the late-1960s up through the ’90s when so-called “fern bars,” literally decorated with ferns, started attracting singles looking to mingle. (The original fern bar, according to The New Yorker, was TGI Fridays, which was joined by many competitors. These venues evolved into neighborhood “bar and grill” concepts.) Adopting the personas of “Chris Royal” and “Josh Fern,” the two visionaries aspired to start transforming their city’s most esteemed cocktail bars into these “bar and grill” chains that dominated the landscape a few decades ago. But with the coming of Covid, that vision was put on hold.

But as the pandemic stretches on, and as a massive recession is all but guaranteed on the other side, I’ve begun to wonder if the bars that reopen might follow the model that the Royal Fern had already laid out in the “before times.” As drinkers and diners look for comfort and nostalgia, fern bar-like concepts may be even more relevant moving forward than they were pre-Covid.

Designing a Modern Neighborhood Gathering Place

So what will it take to create a comfortable, welcoming bar in the post-pandemic future?

The first step for Manis and Gandee was creating a restaurant mascot, since in their minds all ’90s chains had some goofy character associated with them. They settled on “Fern,” an anthropomorphized, frond-mustachioed Polypodiophyta, wearing a suspendered flowerpot as shorts. They would print coloring page placemats and oversized laminated menus. They’d offer plastic souvenir sippy cups “for the kids.” For food items, or “bites,” nachos and loaded potato skins were a must, and they would all need to have over-the-top names to let you know how massive the quantities were. “It should feel like [such] a Sisyphean task that you’ll never finish them,” says Manis.

Drinks-wise, they would serve items like a spiked root beer float, an Amaretto Sour, and a Blue Hawaiian, made with déclassé stuff like Watermelon Pucker, sure, but also featuring modern improvements like fresh juices and high-quality modifiers. Gandee and Manis also knew that back then, there was one cocktail that defined chain restaurants more than any other: Sex on the Beach. Their modernized riff would be called Transparent Bathing Suit and it’d be elevated by the use of a makrut lime-infused vodka and bitters, along with the traditional Peachtree Schnapps. Even if it tasted much better, the cocktail certainly wouldn’t have seemed out of place at a Ruby Tuesday or an Applebee’s circa 1992.

“It’s kinda tough to say what we borrow from what,” says Manis. Based on the name, you can tell they definitely wanted to offer a nod to those original fern bars of the 1970s, like TGI Fridays. “A lot of those restaurants from that era were all so similar.”

Still, they were most inspired by Max & Erma’s, known in its heyday as “The Neighborhood Gathering Place,” a chain that started in Columbus in 1972 and eventually spread to dozens of locations in the Midwest. It became famous for its serve-yourself sundae bar set inside a converted bathtub. Both Gandee and Manis have a great nostalgia for Max & Erma’s, but recognize that might’ve only been on account of their naiveté in youth.

“When I grew up that was just the normal place you went to. I think we went there almost every weekend,” says Manis, who grew up in the Columbus suburbs. “Until I got older, and got into fine dining, that’s just what I thought restaurants were supposed to be.”

Ironically, the Royal Fern’s first pop-up event would be held at the site of the original Max & Erma’s, in Columbus’s German Village neighborhood. That location closed in the summer of 2017 and was later taken over by a cocktail and pierogies spot called Wunderbar, which also closed before Gandee and Manis came along. Conveniently for the Royal Fern, the space had retained a lot of Max & Erma’s decor, including the stained glass Tiffany lamps hanging over every booth. The only accoutrements Gandee and Manis needed to add for the Royal Fern were their own placemats and some hanging ferns.

“It confused a lot of people in the neighborhood,” says Manis. After printing their menus off, a worker at OfficeMax congratulated them on opening a new restaurant. “And a little old couple came up to me complaining that no one had come to the hostess stand to seat them, [asking,] ‘Is this under new management?’”

The crowd for that first night was mostly service industry people, many of whom came after their own shifts ended. These cocktailians really got into the satire of the whole pop-up, eventually calling for off-menu drinks from that era, like Flaming Dr. Peppers. One of the area’s top bartenders, Greg Burnett, handled them with aplomb. Once people saw how fun the first event looked on Instagram, a packed second event was all but guaranteed.

The Royal Fern’s second pop-up in Columbus was four months later, this time at The Bottle Shop and the concept really came into focus. The bartenders, like Barbara Reynolds, wore green dad hats and thick red shirts, with their pants held up by tri-colored suspenders with Chotchkie’s-like flair on them. Drinks were even more chain-friendly with blended Strawberry Margaritas and Cosmo Jell-O shots. A third pop-up would follow on Halloween, at Antiques on High, Seventh Son Brewing’s sour ale and hazy IPA brewpub.

“They understood the Royal Fern completely,” explains Gandee. “Everyone was in a jovial, costumey mood. They realized that they got to essentially play a caricature of themselves. It made for a super-fun environment.”

Reinventing the Chain Bar for the Post-Pandemic Future

Unfortunately, the fourth Royal Fern pop-up and its biggest event yet had to be canceled at the last moment due to Covid-19. Set to be held on St. Patrick’s Day 2020 with a new sponsor — Patrón — the “El Helecho Real” (Spanish for royal fern) concept was going to be really weird. The concept was, basically, what if a chain Mexican restaurant like, say, Chi-Chi’s, decided to put the bare minimum effort into celebrating the Irish holiday?

“We really wanted to push it to see if fans of the Royal Fern could understand the joke — and if we could take it to an even further level,” says Gandee. As yet, that question goes unanswered.

Credit: Nathan Ward

Like all bartenders, and bar-goers, the duo hopes to be back in the bar soon. In these turbulent times, Gandee and Manis believe there’s something really comforting about the chain restaurants of decades past. Maybe we’ll even start seeing a rise in fern bars and other nostalgia-based concepts once people start going out again?

If so, Gandee and Manis are ready to help, and they won’t even need to travel to your city. They consider the Royal Fern the first-ever pop-up bar that’s based on franchised restaurants. Similar to the Miracle pop-up bars that are now all the rage around Christmas, Historic Revelry can supply a complete “party in a box” with menus, flyers, employee clothing and merch, their song playlist (which sometimes includes the sounds of “sizzling fajitas” coming out of the kitchen), recipes for the cocktails, and more. You, too, could host your own Royal Fern event, even if you aren’t exactly a lover of chain restaurants.

“We are absolutely lampooning them — they weren’t good,” says Manis. “But that doesn’t mean the party shouldn’t be good, shouldn’t be fun, [or] that the drinks shouldn’t be good. Maybe they weren’t highbrow. You should still have a blast.”

“All our memories of that time,” he says, “weren’t about having terrible meals — they were about having a great time with our family and friends.”

Once we get through all this, we’ll all be looking for comfort — and this is one bar concept that over-delivers.

The article In a Post-Covid Era Fueled by Nostalgia, Will We See the Return of Fern Bars? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/post-covid-nostalgia-fern-bars/

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johnboothus · 4 years

Text

In a Post-Covid Era Fueled by Nostalgia Will We See the Return of Fern Bars?

“Let’s reintroduce it the way people already know it,” says Gandee. “At a campy, chain restaurant — and through the forgotten cocktails of the ’80s and ’90s.”

Designing a Modern Neighborhood Gathering Place

So what will it take to create a comfortable, welcoming bar in the post-pandemic future?

Reinventing the Chain Bar for the Post-Pandemic Future

“We really wanted to push it to see if fans of the Royal Fern could understand the joke — and if we could take it to an even further level,” says Gandee. As yet, that question goes unanswered.

Credit: Nathan Ward

“All our memories of that time,” he says, “weren’t about having terrible meals — they were about having a great time with our family and friends.”

Once we get through all this, we’ll all be looking for comfort — and this is one bar concept that over-delivers.

The article In a Post-Covid Era Fueled by Nostalgia, Will We See the Return of Fern Bars? appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/post-covid-nostalgia-fern-bars/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/in-a-post-covid-era-fueled-by-nostalgia-will-we-see-the-return-of-fern-bars

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isaiahrippinus · 4 years

Text

In a Post-Covid Era Fueled by Nostalgia, Will We See the Return of Fern Bars?

“Let’s reintroduce it the way people already know it,” says Gandee. “At a campy, chain restaurant — and through the forgotten cocktails of the ’80s and ’90s.”

Designing a Modern Neighborhood Gathering Place

So what will it take to create a comfortable, welcoming bar in the post-pandemic future?

Reinventing the Chain Bar for the Post-Pandemic Future

“We really wanted to push it to see if fans of the Royal Fern could understand the joke — and if we could take it to an even further level,” says Gandee. As yet, that question goes unanswered.

Credit: Nathan Ward

“All our memories of that time,” he says, “weren’t about having terrible meals — they were about having a great time with our family and friends.”

Once we get through all this, we’ll all be looking for comfort — and this is one bar concept that over-delivers.

The article In a Post-Covid Era Fueled by Nostalgia, Will We See the Return of Fern Bars? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/post-covid-nostalgia-fern-bars/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/619366212740268032

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originaldetectivesheep · 7 years

Text

The Thirty and One Nights' Momentary Diversion - Those Ingredients Certainly Don't Combine To Make A Delicious Cocktail

I'd just like to point out, as a prelude to tonight's episode, that you should not actually make or drink anything described in text. You may not open a tear in the fabric of reality, but your stomach lining is a different story.

Those Ingredients Certainly Don't Combine To Make A Delicious Cocktail, Or Even Something That Is Not An Eldritch Horror Beyond Time And Space

I should have just hung up when I saw it was Larissa calling. That would have been the smart thing to do, but since she never ever ever called me because she didn't really like me all that much, I picked up in case she was calling to tell me that Ritchie had been in a car accident or something. I shouldn't've – if it was that important she'd text me with the deets and I wouldn't've gotten roped into this, and she could have just broken up with him or turned off his debit card or thrown all his ingredients out the window or something and then none of this would have happened.

But I didn't do that: I picked up, and without even waiting for a hello Larissa was in my ear. "Tracey," she said, "you need to do something about Ritchie."

"You need to do something about Ritchie," I shot back. "He's your boyfriend, and if you want something –"

"He's your brother, though, and he'll listen to you." That stopped me. She almost had a point. It was a dumb point, and a toxic point, but sometimes Ritchie did listen to his big sister, yes.

"About what?"

"Ritchie is having a phase," Larissa said, almost gritting her teeth through the microphone. "A phase involving cocktails."

"I know about Ritchie's phases," I said, "but I am not sure how a phase about cocktails is a problem, let alone my problem. It seems to me like –"

"It is not a phase about normal cocktails," Larissa said, as if this was painfully obvious and I was reminding her how much she hated me on purpose, "it is a phase about internet cocktails. Do you know what a White Canadian is?" Of course I knew what a White Canadian was – and if Ritchie was on that kind of kick, then yes, it was probably only me who could get him down off it.

"Okay," I said, "I'm not going to call this a favor because I know you're never going to pay me back even if I did, but I'll come over in a while and see what I can do. If he's making White Canadians, it's not just your problem, it's everyone's problem."

"Tracey, you don't know the half of it. He –" Larissa was probably going to keep going with more dumb examples, but I hung up, like I should have before this conversation even started. It wouldn't hurt her to do her venting into an empty phone, and now I didn't have to listen to her any more – I could concentrate on my stupid brother and his thrice-stupid enthusiasms about the literally stupidest possible things.

Ritchie had phases. Not all the time, but every now and again he would get into the stupidest things, and when he did, he got deep into them. Like, deep deep. Like, bottom of the Mariana Trench deep, or conspiracy-under-the-David-Icke-reptoids-conspiracy deep. Usually this was harmless to everyone but him and everything except his social relationships, and the most productive thing to do was to leave him for a week or two and let him learn all the things about all the things and become the best and most into whatever the dumb thing he was into was, and get bored with it or burn out, but sometimes someone (usually me) had to step in and give him a slap before he got out of hand. Cocktails, as long as Larissa actually had enough friends to have over and hang out to consume them, would not be a problem: internet cocktails, almost by definition so vile that nobody in their right mind would drink them, were absolutely a problem, and if Larissa was asking me to stop him, then she'd already tried to stop Ritchie and failed at it. I had to stop him, then: for the sake of his liver and the sanity of everyone else within his pouring range.

When I got over to their place, Larissa had already left in a huff without locking the door, so I just pushed it open and followed the off-kilter imitations of Quentin Tarantino trying to sing like the bands he strip-mined for soundtracks up to the kitchen, where Ritchie was squeezing half a lime into a glass of milk that looked like it had already been contaminated with a shot or three of gin. "Afternoon, Ritchie," I said. "Are you trying to win a contest for the stupidest paneer in history, or are you just wasting cocktail ingredients for no reason? That's going to curdle, you know." Ritchie blinked, but didn't stop squeezing the lime into his horrible horrible drink.

"No," he said at last, "no, it's not – not if I drink it fast enough." He put the lime down on the counter and gulped down the congealing mixture before the milk could start getting chunky – before I could even facepalm all the way, let alone try and do something to stop him.

"See, this is exactly what I came over here to get you not to do. Ritchie, if you keep doing this, you are going to end up puking forever – from alcohol poisoning and from all kinds of weird crap mixing up and self-fermenting in your stomach. There are limits on what's going to make a delicious cocktail."

"See, this is the sort of self-limiting, sellout rhetoric I expect from you, Tracey," he said, picking up a bottle of coffee liqueur and pouring a bit over a glass full of ice before reaching for a pitcher of what looked like powder-packet instant lemonade. "This is real life. There are no limits – you don't get a set list of booze and mixers and garnishes, pick only two at a time. The world isn't limited – the only limits on human potential are the limits we put there." Ritchie poured his bad idea into a cocktail strainer and mashed a prune into the bottom of the glass, then shook up the already awful cocktail parts and poured it back in over a handful of fresh ice cubes, finishing it off with a drizzle of peppermint schnapps. I tried to look away, but he was pushing the glass into my hand.

"Ritchie, sometimes limits exist for a reason. This cocktail looks awful. It looks like toilet tank bilge, and from what I saw you put in it, I can only imagine it'll taste even worse."

Ritchie rolled his eyes. "You can only imagine – that's all you normies ever do, you look at the surface and can't imagine that you don't know better. Yeah, it's probably awful – but how do we know it's going to be awful if no one ever tests to make sure? Who tested bourbon on the rocks to be sure? Who thought that an olive in a martini was a step too far? Where there's a limit, that limit has to be crossed if we're going to get anywhere as a species."

I rolled the glass in my hands. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think the surface was smoking with some unholy stupid chemical reaction. "Ritchie, that's all well and good, but people have been making cocktails for a long time – like a hundred years. And if the principles –"

He snorted. "Principles! Principles hatched out of steak houses and fern bars for normies who wanted to get wasted without tasting the alcohol! Principles that are out the window! Where in those principles from 1920 do you get barrel-aged small batches – and now that's all the hipsters will drink! What are principles about flavors when you get vodka in 'popcorn' and 'bacon' and 'birthday cake'! The whole world is there – are you going to set sail for the Indies or are you going to sit in your own filth in Lisbon, sure that the earth is too big and too empty?"

I lifted up the glass to see if the prune at least had settled out. "Ritchie, I have no idea where that stupid Columbus reference came from or why, but the Portuguese did do their math right, and if he hadn't run into Florida by mistake he really would have died. And actually, that is a very accurate analogy to what is probably going to happen if I drink this – but as a favor to you, and to maybe convince you to cut this out before you hurt anyone else, I am going to drink it." I pinched my nose tight and tried to keep my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth, tasting as little of the vile sewer burp as I possibly could.

Ritchie looked at me as I set the glass back on the counter, every muscle in my body twitching and shaking uncontrollably. "Well? So? How is it?" I straightened back up, at least as much as I was able to, bracing myself on one of his kitchen chairs. I could feel the sweat beading out on my forehead. "Ritchie, I am about to go throw up, because if I do not, my stomach lining is going to crawl up my throat and choke me to death, to finish the job of this stupid beaker of poison you made me pour into it. That thing is not a cocktail – that is a cloaca, it is a bird's one-hole sewer ass, and if it stays in my system any longer I'm going to have like an epileptic fit or Ebola-splortch all my guts out at both ends. It tastes like tinfoil and I think something in my like pancreas is physically on fire. Your bathroom is still in the same place, right? You didn't remodel or anything, right?" He shook his head. "Good, but you may have to after this, if it like melts through the toilet or something." I staggered away for the bathroom, trying desperately to not fall over or puke all over myself before I could get to a bowl or a sink or the bath or even the tiles, which it probably wouldn't burn through before someone could get a mop.

When I finally came out of the bathroom feeling pinched in like a cartoon animal that had just crawled through the Sahara, Ritchie had yet another 'cocktail' mixed and up to the light to squint at. He noticed me and set it down. "Well?" he said. "Are you ok? How are you doing?"

"Awful," I said, "atrocious." I fumbled a plastic Solo cup out of a sleeve on the counter – I could be sure those weren't contaminated with anything – and opened up the faucet into it, drinking two, then three glasses full of water to get me somewhere remotely back towards normal.

"Well, you're still alive – it can't be that bad."

"Ritchie, that is literally the very lowest possible standard, and I am not clearing it by that much. That was literally the worst experience I have ever had with alcohol – and I went to college at a state school, and then drank white lightning with Chinese exchange students in Chinatown, and then I drank a whole bottle of Buckfast on a dare when I was in Scotland for my own study abroad. The Buckie felt like it took two years off my life, I am not kidding – but your stupid excuse for pushing the limits of cocktails was even worse than that. I would congratulate you, but making booze that is worse for people than Buckfast is not something to be proud of. It is a sign that you should cut the shit out. Ritchie, that was pretty much a lethal poison: if you make Larissa drink something like that, she can put you in jail. And if you drink something like that, the limits you're going to be transcending are the friggin rusty chains of earth. You had your new-age astral-plane transcendence phase. Cut this out before it turns into an exploration of whether there's life after death." While he was still processing that, I grabbed the cocktail out of his hand and dumped it down the sink.

"But – the dose makes the poison, right? If – if I just sip a little, and then pour it down the sink like that, I should be able to keep going, right?"

"Ritchie, if you do that, or if you do the spittoon thing like those wine snobs do, then probably Larissa will let you keep going as long as you keep the fan on and don't make too big a mess. Remember, she's on the lease, too, now: I'm not going to tell you how to run your relationship, but you have to remember that the most important limits that you have to watch out for crossing are your girlfriend's. No poisoning people. No poisoning yourself. And talk about what you're going to do before you spend all Saturday mixing goat cheese and grenadine into Jäger and triple sec." Ritchie nodded, like he was finally getting it.

"Right. One sip, and it's right down the drain. And I'll keep it on just this part of the counter, or if it's going to be smelly, I'll mix it on the stove top with the fan on."

I clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't tell me that, tell your girlfriend. I'm out; you give her a call to let her know it's safe to come back. If you're really in a place where you can live together, you ought to be able to talk her down." I turned and headed for the stairs, glad that my legs were still working and that I didn't seem to have any permanent brain damage.

Two weeks later Ritchie showed up at my front door with a duffel bag. And no Larissa. "What the heck, Ritchie," I said. "Why now? Where's your stuff? Where's your girlfriend?"

He looked shiftily to the side. "It's complicated, but I need a place to stay. Gone. Out of state, probably – she left first."

"Ritchie, did you have a fight with Larissa, kill her by accident, and then burn down your apartment building to hide the evidence?" With Ritchie it paid to cut to the chase.

He snapped around, eyes wise with fear and shock. "What – WHAT? – no, no never! – like I said, she got out first, she was home on her day off when it happened and I got a call that she was out and she was leaving and I should never call her again and then I came home from work as fast as I could and that was when the building was gone. She's still alive – she reported me to the police when I tried to text her, so she's definitely still alive. Please, you have to believe me – you have to believe your own brother, right?"

I thought for a moment to take this all in. "Ok," I said, "Larissa was kind of a jerk, and I can definitely see her getting sick of your shit one day out of the blue, running off, and reporting you for a stalker if you tried to find her. So can we take a step back to the part where your apartment building is 'gone'? What in the hell is that about?"

He was looking shifty again. "It's not my fault. I tried it, yeah, but it was a stupid recipe and of course it wasn't going to do anything. It must have actually been a different recipe, one that mixed itself up in the pipes under the sink – and that makes it your fault, you're the one who told me to take one sip and dump it. If I'd processed my cocktails through someone this never would've happened – not the right ingredients, not the right proportions, not the right time. But you told me to pour them all down the sink, and they got stuck in the old pipes, and of course it was the actual right way to mix a miniature black hole. But Larissa got out – she got out and she called me even and even if she didn't she'd be in custody by now – the government's all over the perimeter where the building used to be. When I went back I saw them – that's why I'm here, just with my gym clothes from work. Please, can't you let me just crash on your couch for a while?"

I closed the door in his face. "Sorry, Ritchie," I said through the door, ignoring his protests from the other side, "but 'created a space-time distortion in the grease trap via improper booze disposal' is exactly the kind of thing that makes a bad apartment reference. Go talk to the feds – I'm sure they'll be willing to put you up for a while until this blows over." Sure, he was my brother – but I liked my apartment exactly the way it wasn't full of weird awful cocktails, and not about to collapse into a singularity, thanks very much.

#fiction #30and1nights

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travellingthoughts · 7 years

Text

April 26th 2017

Would you believe it? She's back after two weeks 😝 Again (I feel like I'm going to be apologising every time), I'm sorry for the lack of posts in the last two weeks. You see, your girl over here is pretty much an alcoholic so I spend my only free days on the tour bus either A: trying to keep my heart beating and B: trying to not bring up my breakfast. Blogging is the last thing on my mind. I apologise for this. However I'm about to fill you in on a whole lotta fun! So I started my 24 day Topdeck tour around Europe! We go to 12 countries in 24 days which is #hecktic but i like to think of it as a taster for each city/country and I can then decide where I want to go back to. Before I continue on, what I write below is brief. My days haven't been boring, every night except for one has consisted of sinking bevs with the crew. I have definitely drunk my body weight in alcohol in the last 14 days. Wine. Tequila. Mojitos. Jagerbombs #fave. Vodka. Buckets (don't ask questions). All of the good stuff 🤒 MY TOPDECK TRIP SO FAR: Started off day 1 with a drive to Paris. Paris was nice... sort of. It's a huge city and we stayed quite far out so it was a bitch to get around. Of course I wanted to walk around #malaka #thinkaboutthebooty but it wasn't worth it. Too big of a city to see in one day. It was a stressful day trying to fit in as much as we could, and I just have this negative feeling about Paris now 😶 However, I did have the best croissant I have ever tasted, so it truly couldn't be that bad. Day 3: drove to Switzerland. Lauterbrunnen to be exact; a town at the bottom of the Swiss alps. This is by far one of my favourite places I have ever visited. The beauty in its nature is awing. You are breathless because of two reasons: the view (of course) and the lack of oxygen in the air because of the altitude. It was my first time seeing snow as well which was really special to me because I'm fucking twenty. We spent our nights drinking in the bar and have some really good mems with the crew. Waking up to the view of the Swiss alps and waterfalls will be unforgettable. Day 5: back to the south of France - Nice/ The French Riviera. I absolutely loved Nice. It was beautiful, kind of reminded me of St Kilda (with a much nicer and cleaner beach). There was a pebble beach which was an experience and a half. Imagine having to suck in, make sure your boobs don't fall out of a swim suit that no longer fits you and having sharp, big rocks under your feet. Perfecto. It was so fucking painful I thought I wasn't going to be able to walk home hahah legit but the trauma went away after some gelato 😂 the waves were violent as fuck and IT WAS FREEZING. The balls I don't have shrivelled up. The group of us were screaming because we were being thrashed around, the water was below freezing and there were saggy old ladies with their tits and vaginas out. I wasn't lying when I said it was an experience. Would do it again though, no doubt. Nice has a really good bar scene as well. First and not the last time I will dance on a table and fkn love it. Got ridiculously drunk the last night (never sloppy though dw) that I vomited my guts up the next morning before getting on the bus. I was lying in the middle of Nice on the ground trying to stay alive. Fucked. No ragrets. Day 6: went to Monaco! This is the smallest country in the world but one of the richest. They have the Monte Carlo casino there with thousands of lambos and ferraris parked out the front. Anyway I gambled 10 euro and lost, I'm still gutted. Day 7: Finally hit an Italian city- Florence. Never have I eaten so much pizza and pasta in my life. I have put on so much weight that the jeans I bought 3 weeks ago don't fit me anymore. Depressing as fuck but the pasta was so so worth it. Florence was beautiful but not as pretty and interesting as Rome and Venice. Day 9: Roma!!!! Absolutely incredible the amount of history to be learnt here. We went to the Vatican City for most of the day though, which was cool. Saw the Sistine chapel and St. Peter's basilica which are both an art form. We happened to go to St. Peter's when an Italian mass was going on and I'm not religious in the slightest but I was truly touched. It was so beautiful. Day 11: Venezia!!!! I FUCKING LOVED VENICE 🇮🇹 aside from the consistent smell of sewage it was so beautiful. The canals, the gondolas, the lace factories, the basilica, the waterfront, the bridges, the food and the people were a site to see. Really wanted to go to the Island of Burano but I ran out of time. It's on the bucket list for next Europe trip don't worry! Day 13: Vienna, Austria. First impression: so many beautiful boys I was actually overwhelmed. Don't know what they have in their genes but holy shit I need me some of that. Vienna is beautiful. Bit of juicy goss though coming at you in a minute. The foods they're known for; schnitzel, apple strudel and chocolate cake thing were the best I've ever had. We went to a schnapps brewery (another Austrian traditional drink) which is kind of like liqueurs but a lot stronger. We got to taste test and I tried too many but loved them all! Ended up buying a flask filled with chilli schnapps which you feel fine with to begin with and then it grabs you by the balls. Sold. Then I bought a bottle of Absinthe.... don't tell my mum but 4 shots of that and you're hallucinating. Oath. Then I met up with Alex. I met him and his friends in Madrid and we all hit it off. For more info read my second blog post. I was worried maybe I had gotten in too deep, maybe we weren't going to get along by ourselves as this was the first time only with him. But it was beautiful. Not only did he run a half marathon in the morning, he didn't cancel our date and went above and beyond. He took me to the Parliament House, the Volksgarten and Stephanplatz which is a really cool little district! He took me for dinner, took me for cocktails in a sky bar and the rest is history. He is an absolute babe and we have so much chemistry it kills me to know we live on opposite sides of the world. However it is something that needs to be left behind because of that reason. He is an absolute gentleman and is sexy as anything. He is also so cute with him English I swear I just giggled the entire time I was with him. Thanks for being truly amazing Alex 😍 Day 15: Budapest, Hungary. Fucking love this city. Would love there in a heart beat. It's beautiful and the food is amazing. So much to see and do and so much history in regards to the Nazi invasion and its rule under the Soviet Union. So many innocent people died because of these two influences, and it sure was sobering. The food was also so good; beef goulash is my favourite. Felt just like home. The nightlife was fucking sickkkkkkkkk. Met a boy last night and locked him out of my room and fell asleep because u got cold feet 😂 felt like such a bitch but didn't know what to do :( such a funny story though, there's more to it! This brings me to right now where I am on my way to Krakow in Poland right now 🌎 Until next time folks, Len xx

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