#thing two;

vmas preparation 

NATIONAL DOG DAY!!!! I LOVE THESE PUPS SO MUCH!!

Merch life. Post-show hangs with Grumpy Cat.

     At first, it didn't even register with Asa what had happened. He was in shock. His perception of time made it feel like several minutes that he stood there, blank-faced and ears ringing. In reality, it was only a few seconds; as soon as he came to his senses, he screamed. "No!"     Slater's blood splattered Asa's shirt and flecked over his ghostly-white face. What had happened? Who would do this? More importantly -- why would Slater do this? What possessed him to take a bullet for him? The shooter was long gone. He'd made a mad dash as soon as the bullet hit, despite an attempt from several of the people around them to latch onto him. Asa couldn't blame them. With a gun pointed in his face, even the strongest of men was powerless.      He could already hear three or four people on the phone, connected with emergency response dispatchers. With any luck, they'd get there as quickly as possible. He was thankful for the help, simply because he'd already occupied himself with lowering down to his knees beside his fellow guitarist, eying him in tearful disbelief. One hand stroked along the side of his face, the other reaching for his hand in an attempt to give him some sort of comfort -- any sort of comfort. He couldn't imagine the pain. "Someone's on their way, okay?" Asa whispered, locking eyes with him. Quivering lips pursed together, momentarily silencing the inevitable question. When it escaped, it was barely audible. "What the fuck was that for, Slater?" He swallowed thickly, tightening his grip on his hand. His heart was hammering both in anger and fear. If he ever got his hands on the person responsible, their life would be a living hell. What little life -- if any -- he left in them. "You didn't have to do that..."