#meanwhile this man has a collection of piss bottles in his room

[waste-0f-spacee]

my father inspires me to be a better person everyday by showing me exactly how NOT to be

[razorblade180]

Shackles Finale: Free

[Part 12]

Destiny is a fickle thing. For some it’s real, and for others it’s as fake as fairy tales. No matter what however, time still goes on. Things still happen. Ruby was never one to think too hard on the topic despite all she’s been through. However, as she walked into Menagerie’s hospital soaking wet from the extreme downpour happening in the middle of the night, Ruby couldn’t help but wonder if it was destiny to test everyone’s resolve; or karma coming to collect.

Her self imposed mission had been going well. Adam cooperated, Blake planned ahead, and things progressed steadily. It should’ve stayed like that for three more months. Unfortunately things don’t always go as planned. Jacquelyn went into labor early, too early. The woman woke up today looking fit as a fiddle. Who could’ve guessed she would be fighting for her life today? Her, and her daughter?

Hospital staff were in a frenzy from the storm just like the public. It made getting to the back where everyone was without suspicion easy for Ruby. Certain doctors were notified ahead of time of the complexities of their patient and precautions had already been in place for Jacquelyn and company to have no disturbances. Though nobody factored in an unhealthy birth creating this island’s worst storms to date. Ruby made it to the sealed off waiting room. What should’ve been a haven of calm was another conflict. Blake stood arms folded and ears back in the way of guards and her conflicted father while Adam sat behind her, silent.

“You know I expected more from you, Saber. That goes double for you dad.”

The man frowned. “Blake, this wasn’t my-”

“We have held our end of the agreement.” Saber interjected, “Adam was to be free until the child was born. Not my problem that day came early.”

Blake grit her teeth. “You know damn well that’s not why I’m standing here right now!” She said through her teeth. His kid had just been born moments ago and just like that, she was rushed to intensive care. Meanwhile Jacquelyn was slipping in and out, her body failing her during the labor. “Let him see this through.”

“What good would it do him to hear terrible news? He’ll lash out for all we know. That can not happen in a hospital!”

“You just want to kick him while he’s down!”

“AND FOR GOOD REASON!”

Okay, Ruby had enough. “HEY!” She yelled, gaining everyone’s attention. She brushed her wet hair out of her face. “I set up generators across the island. No one's gonna lose power. I also told people Menagerie’s guards were making their rounds to make sure everyone was accounted for. I don’t mean to overstep being an outsider and all but…” her eyes burrowed into Saber’s “Get to work.” It wasn’t kind or even right necessarily, but Ruby didn’t care.

Feeling the pressure, Saber made the wise decision to take his people and leave. Ghira looked at Blake with guilt in his eyes for letting it get this far. “Listen I-”

“You know I understand mom not wanting anything to do with this, but I didn’t expect this from you. It’s like you’re trying to create every reason to push him back into old habits and make all this worthless. We will hold up our end of the bargain, so teach them what you tell me and have some patience.”

Ghira didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. There was caution, and then there was insensitivity. He had no words, just a nod before walking away.

Ruby grabbed his arm in passing. “She knows this wasn’t your call. Blake is stressed. Your house still has power. Ilia is with Kali trying to calm down Sienna and Sun is helping check on people. Maybe you should go home too?” Ruby smiled softly. She knew a worried father when she saw one. Ghira needed something to do.

“I appreciate the concern Mrs. Rose, but I think I’ll just stand guard outside this room.”

“Understood, and hey, things will work themselves out.” Ruby let him go and headed from one worried feline to the next. “You know he’s not to blame right? He’s just…trying to keep everyone connected.”

Blake let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I know that, and I also know he’s not going to lose me. But right now I really need everyone to not jump the gun. Thanks for keeping the peace. Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to your leadership skills.”

“I just got snippy with faunus officers on their own island. Really testing my boundaries with my status as an important huntress across Remnant.” Ruby patted Blake on the back. “You should go check in on the doctors. I’ll do my job watching our person of interest.”

“Okay.” Blake looked back at Adam. He stayed quiet throughout all of this, eyes closed and arms crossed. He must’ve figured the best thing he could do right now is not look threatening. “I’ll let you know first if anything changes okay?”

He still didn’t move but that didn’t stop him from speaking. “Thank you.” He heard Blake run off in a hurry while the sound of chair legs rubbed the ground in front of him. Adam opened his one good eye and saw Ruby sitting in front of him with her scroll in hand.

“You know…I can’t remember when a day has felt this long.” Ruby sighed, “Moments like these is enough to just make you want stop time ya know?”

“I don’t need sympathy.”

“Wasn’t giving any. Just venting I guess. My husband sent me a text. I’m missing a very important arrival today; not that it’s your fault by any means. I just know it’s gonna be grounds for a conversation later that might get feisty, again.”

Adam could see how tired Ruby was. The normally energetic woman was leaning back in her seat, eyes closed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t take long missions then?”

“Pfft nah. I don’t regret helping where I can. Besides I didn’t know until after I took the mission. Things will work themselves out though. That’s how family works. Believe in each other and the impossible happens.”

“I know what you’re doing. It’s not gonna work. Just stop talking okay?”

Ruby pursed her lips. Years of leadership didn’t prepare her talks like these. She had to say something though. It was hard to explain, but Ruby could feel the importance of this moment. Good or bad news, bottling this up would make anyone go insane. Ruby reached down her shirt and lifted her necklace. It was a silver cross with red roses wrapped around it. She took it off and dangled it on her fingers, scooting closer to Adam.

“My dad and uncle gave this to me on my birthday. They said…sometimes you need a piece of faith when you don’t have any yourself. I’m not really religious but apparently my mom used to pray after she knew there was nothing left she could do herself. Hehe, it’s a Rose mentality.” Ruby put it in Adam’s hand and curled it. “Don’t tell anyone this, but it’s pretty cool that you are your own kind of rose. Makes me feel like we’re connected in a way. Keep that. I know it’ll fit you.”

Adam remained quiet. He stared down at the trinket in his hand until his vision blurred. His body trembled. Slowly he clenched the cross. “I have no right to pray for anything. If destiny or whatever you want to call it exists then it’s only fair I get punished.”

Ruby frowned, “Hey that’s-” she cut herself short, not expecting Adam to put his other hand over the cross; his forehead pressing against them as he closed his eyes.

“Punish me.” He uttered weakly. “Me, not them. Leave everyone else out of it.” The first and only prayer he’ll ever make. His life could be at destiny’s whim forever as long as the ones who fought for him didn’t get burned.

Ruby stood from her seat and knelt down, grabbing his hands and joining the prayer. All while Ghira watched silently from the entrance.

For several hours, It was out of everyone’s hands. A roll of the dice, luck of the draw, fate, gods, destiny, whatever anyone wanted to call it; that was the only thing left and no one dared to keep track of the time out of anxiety. It was a scary, humbling feeling for certain. It was also the purest reminder that life wasn’t fair. Bad things happen to good people, hard work is left with nothing, and sometimes… a sinner’s prayers get heard.

The doors flung open with Blake breathless. “Adam…” she panted, eyes bigger than the smile on her face. “She’s-” the tears shed caught her off guard. The two roses stared blankly before Adam stood. Blake moved out of the doorway and he took it as a sign. ‘Run.’ Adam ran and no one dared to stop him.

“Back room.” Blake said, walking to her father. Ruby got up as well and joined the two. Blake looked at the red faced girl. The feline giggled softly while wiping Ruby’s tears. “And here I thought I knew how big your heart was?”

Ruby laughed as she tried to stop sniffling. “It’s not what it looks like. Seeing him sit there with his demons like that, it reminded me of how my dad and uncle qrow used to look when mom was brought up. Sorry, got a little compromised.”

“Welcome to the club. Dad, sorry I-”

Ghira wrapped his arm around Blake. “Don’t apologize. I tell you to take things slow and yet I tried rushing to the end of this. I’m sorry. I can’t say what lies in store for Adam next, but I suppose…I’ll have to keep more of an open mind. He’s earned that much.”

Ruby shook her head and sighed. “If I’m being honest, personally I think everyone has been a bit silly. Including my lovable sis. You all make it sound like he’s been trouble free for six months when that isn’t the case. I can’t say if he’s been perfect or not but the fact that Remnant thinks he died at Argus has to mean something, right? I certainly can’t link him to any world threatening incidents since then. He’s been minding his business for a couple years now. Is locking him up really gonna change anything? I mean it wouldn’t matter if Cinder was in or out of jail for me. I’d still be wary and pissed. Your men’s feelings about him wouldn’t change because of a cell. But hey, that’s just me.”

Ruby put her hands behind her hand and walked off. “I’m gonna step out for a moment and make a call.” She looked out a window. To her surprise, the rain had stopped. Ruby dialed Yang’s number. “Hey sis! Beautiful day to start a family. So, what’s my precious little niece’s name?”

xxxx

Adam reached the back room and pushed the door open to find Jacquelyn in bed, startled by his entrance before giving him a grin. Her skin had a sickly yellow dinge to it and she was covered in sweat. Still she smiled, holding a small infant as doctors looked at vitals and did their work.

“Awe, have you been crying? I’m sorry. Guess we gave you a fright.”

One of the nurses looked at the maiden like she was crazy. “Ma’am you slipped into a coma. Please don’t try and move around much.”

“I was a little tired, that's all. Heh…guess we finally found something I’m not good at? That’s un- oh…” Adam put his arms around her and the baby. Odd, to think he could hold something this gently? His presence soothed her into leaning into the embrace, humming quietly to both him and the new arrival. A premature baby with red hair, and tiny horns.

The doctor, naturally sworn to confidentiality, watched from the sidelines. “I’d like to congratulate you with confidence, but these two aren’t out of the woods yet. While I expect Jacquelyn to bounce back with time, your daughter is pretty frail. We have her stable for the time being but the heart is a complex organ even when fully developed. We’re going to have to keep her for a while just to make sure she’ll grow up healthy. Rest assured, I will do everything in my power for her.”

“Thank you.” Adam looked at his daughter’s round face. She opened her eyes to reveal two pools or bright blue. “Hmmm.”

“Something wrong?” Jacquelyn asked.

“She’ll have a hard time, with these features going for her. I was hoping she’d look more like you.”

“Oh hush. She’s beautiful like this. Though maybe I am a little jealous she doesn’t have my hair. Still, real big fan of those eyes.” She kissed his cheek. “We’ll do our best and then some.”

The doctor pulled out some paperwork. “Now then, I’m going to need a name. Her record won’t be too expensive in terms of…background history, but she’ll need the basics as best as possible. Especially in her condition.”

“Wanna name her after your mother, or even your sister?”

Adam shook his head, “I think we already have enough namesakes. Let her be free from that. You decide. I was never really good at these kinds of things.”

“Oooo okay. Don’t come crying later if you think of a good one. A free spirited name for our little kid.” Jacquelyn giggled to herself. “Got it. How about we name her…”

“Hehe, That’s a perfect name.” The two roses spoke.

[elysiashelby]

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 5

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 5, 835

WARNINGS: Cursing

Summary: Aliena Welsh has been living in the universe of the show Peaky Blinders for a year, and the time has come for the show to start. But how will this affect her and Thomas’ relationship?

MASTERLIST  CHAPTER 4  CHAPTER 5.2

A/N: So, there was supposed to be chapters before this one, but because I have such a hard time writing Aliena’s character into the show, I decided that those extra chapter will come after I finish S1! The first line break will indicate spoilers for those chapters, so skip to the second one, if you want to avoid reading what’s gonna happen.  

“Tommy! Tommy!” A man yelled from outside.

I was jolted from me sleep, and me body sprang forward. I wasn’t the only one who had this reaction. Tommy ‘n I both sprang up. We looked at each for a second before he leaned over me body and looked out the window. 

Tommy let out a little sigh of relief. “It’s just Curly.” He yanked the blankets off of himself. 

Meanwhile, I was busy rubbing the sleep out of me eyes. “Why would he be here at night? Did you get a new horse, Tom?”

He was busy getting his work pants on. “No. It should be about a delivery that was supposed to come in.”

Me ears perked up. “A delivery?” I leaned closer to him, practically leaning over his shoulder.

Tommy was putting on his shoes. “Yeah. I made a deal with a guy in London. Wanted motorcycles.” 

I widened me eyes in shock. 

‘The show is beginning…’

Just as Tommy was rising to his feet, I grabbed his arm. 

His eyebrows furrowed then his hand stroked me face. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

I kept looking side to side. I was trying to come up with a proper excuse. I was brought out of me trance when Tommy placed down his other hand on me face and tugged me to look at him. 

“Oi, Ali! What’s wrong?”

I huffed, closing me eyes shut before opening them. “Guns.” I said with a shrug. “Guns not motorcycles.” 

Tommy blinked his eyes a bunch of times before he shook his head with a dismissive scoff. “No, Aliena, it’s a shipment of motorcycles. Go back to sleep. I’ll be back.” 

I rolled me eyes, shoving off his lingering hand on me face. I hummed. “Yeah, you’ll see. If you wanna talk ‘bout it when you come back, just wake me up. I don’t mind.” I turned 'round and laid back down.

“Right...” The bed springs sang as he stood up. I heard the door close rather than saw it. It took some time, but I went back to sleep. 

“Aliena, wake up! Wake up, right now!” Tommy yelled as he shook me. He held me up by me arms.

Me eyes were squinted as I was trying to find the strength to open them. “Wha?”

“How did you-? No…” He muttered something before he began to speak again, “What’s a TV show? Explain to me how you knew about the guns.” 

I chuckled with a smile on me face. I couldn’t help it. “Can you think about letting me go first? You’re soaking wet, by the way.” He let me go but the crazed look on his face never went away.

“Explain.”

I nodded. I started to climb out of the bed. “A TV show is like a series of movie pictures.” I stood on me feet, reached up, and carefully took off his cap. Tommy was just staring down at me.

“Except they’re shorter and meant to tell the same story in this case, at least.” I slipped off his drenched coat, never looking away from his gaze.

“A TV show has episodes and sometimes if it’s successful, or they were highly popular- they would have a season. A season or sometimes called a series, they both mean a collection of episodes.” I turned around and went to hang his coat on a chair.

“So, you’re telling me that me and my family had something like that. In what, your world?” He scoffed to himself. A hand raised to his mouth, going over his bottom lip. 

I turned back to him. I knew I had a grave look on me face. I tried to look stern as I replied. “Yes.” 

He shook his head while pursing his lips. “No.” He muttered.

I sighed, looking down at me hands while trying to pick out the non-existent dirt from under them. “Try not to think of it like that.” I rushed to him and cradled his face in me hands. “Think of me as Gypsy kin like you said. I can see into the future, that’s all. I have dreams. I hear spirits.” 

Tommy chucked humorlessly and looked up while his tongue poked out to quickly lick his bottom lip. He tsked as he brought his head back down while nodding. “Right.”

“I don’t know what else to say.” I laughed nervously while looking away. I never took me hands from his face. 

Tommy sniffed before saying. “We keep this between us. You can’t tell anyone else. They’ll lose their minds, or think you’ve lost yours. I have questions. Can you answer them?”

I, finally, put me arms down. I shrugged. “Don’t know. It would depend. But you can give it a shot.”

Tommy sat down, so I scurried to do the same. 

“The guns that just came. Would I be-! No. … Is it safe to keep them?” He asked.

I furrowed me eyebrows as I scoffed. “Tommy, it’s common sense that it’s not safe to keep ‘em.”

He sighed. “Not like that. Would it be a stepping stone to the family business?”

I thought about it. “Yes.” I jumped as I had a thought. “I got it. I’m not giving you any details, so form your questions into ones that can be answered by ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

Tommy leaned forward, spread out his knees a bit, then rested his elbows on his knees while his hands held up his head. 

There was silence for a while. I managed to keep sane as I fiddled with me hands. Tried cracking them all.

Tommy cleared his throat. “Very soon, I’m going to take a horse down to Garrison courts. There’s a rumor that a Chinese girl there is a witch. I’m gonna pay her to do the powder trick. Does it pay off?”

I whispered. “Yes.” 

Without any warning, he stood up and walked to the door. Before he left, he said. “Go on back to sleep.” He closed the door behind him.

I was staring at the door long after he was gone. The room was oddly colder than before. I ran out of Tommy’s room and went into me own. I didn’t go back to sleep. I just drew until it was time for me to go to work.

It’s been a year since I magically appeared in the universe of Peaky Blinders. It’s been a wild ride. Me birthday here was celebrated with the Shelby’s and me girlfriends. Polly got me paints and pencils for me drawings. Ada’s present had to be given to me at night since it was lingerie. She said it was because I would have a fella of me own anytime now.

‘Yeah, right!’

Arthur was so sweet and bought me canvases. Only to find out it was because John had bought me paints, who was beaten to the punch by Polly. They told me after that they planned on giving me two pound each if I didn’t like the present. 

I had to get me present from Tommy the day after me birthday. He walked with me a little ways out of Small Heath, where there was a lone tree in a field. I could see it now. I remember clasping me hands over me mouth. Me tears wasting no time to flow down me face. I ran to it and started tracing the lettering engraved into headstone that was there under it. 

I talked about it in passing. I never expected for him to get it done for me. I told him that I wanted a headstone for me ma’. I would never see her again, so I wanted somewhere where I could grieve me loss. He gave me that. I sobbed into his arms so much that day.

It sucked going over to the Ritz after that. I was supposed to still be having fun which I was, but me eyes stung. Angelica gifted me expensive dresses she thought I would like, and I did. Christiana gave me hair accessories which I appreciated. Cassie gave me a pearl necklace. I cried again. It was me da’s birthstone. It was like I got them back for a day. 

Despite me joy for having a place for me ma’ and carrying a piece of me da’ around, I think it made me depression worse. After all, me ma’s birthday was in February. The guns were found a week before me ma’s birthday. 

On that day, I had Freddie drive me to Blackpool beach. I had me a good ‘ol breakdown at there, then I went back home. I didn’t explain it to Freddie, but I think he understood. He must have known that I was grieving.

I locked meself in me room and got bladdered. I stole a bottle of whiskey and almost drank it all. I should have known that Tommy would catch me. He decided to babysit me, and made sure I scarfed down some bread and drank water before I went to sleep. I made him talk to me, though. I made him talk to me ‘til I fell asleep.

Work was hell the next day. I wasn’t hungover, but I had a good headache. Had a cob on the whole day, but I had to keep a lid on it. It’s hard dealing with people who control your salary the whole day ‘cause if ya piss them off— they can easily dock your pay. 

Mrs. Davies down at the bakery and Mrs. Aitken down at the flower shop loved pinching me cheeks. It was nice at first, but then they started fucking doing it harder and harder every time I came in.

Anyway, the first season starts today since Tommy told me in the morning that he’s taking Monaghan Boy down to Garrison courts. 

‘Let me tell you, I am not happy that I’m gonna have to deal with Grace fucking Burgess. I do not want to see Thomas Shelby fall in love! In front of me face! It’s torture! As if I’m not already depressed. I have enough baggage all on me own, sir!’

I stopped sweeping the floor and pinched the bridge of me nose. This is how fucking gutted I am! I exhaled slowly before I decided to stop worrying ‘bout the inevitable and focus on me work. 

“Finn?” That was Tommy.

Me mind instantly connected the dots and I ran to the parlor. I got there just in time as he picked up Finn’s discarded ciggie. 

“Finn Shelby, what in the ‘ell are you doing smoking? Stop smirking, Tom. Arthur wants you.” I took the ciggie out of hand and pushed him aside. 

“Sorry, bud. You’re on your own.” Tommy lightly brushed the back of his cap on Finn’s face as he left. 

Finn looked up at me. I shook me head. I crouched down to meet his gaze. 

“What have I told you abar these horrid things? Huh, Finn! Just ‘cause your brothers smoke doesn’t mean you hafta.” I stubbed out the ciggie and left it in the dish. 

“But it’s no fun being the only one who doesn’t do it. They don’t have anyone yelling at them.” He said with a pout.

I huffed, feeling annoyed. “That’s not true. I nag Tommy all the time.” I crossed me arms.

“Liar! I’ve never seen it!” 

“Yeah ‘cause then he wouldn’t be able to face ya, so I have to scold him in secret. So, don’t tell ‘em I told you about it.” I ran me hand over his hair, smoothing it out. “I catch you with one of these again ‘n I’ll smack you upside the head. I promise.” 

“No, you won’t.” 

“I bloody will!” 

Suddenly, there was a shout that caught our attention and I flew to me feet. 

“I'm calling a family council tonight at 8:00. I want all of us there. You hear me? There's trouble coming.” Arthur yelled as Tommy stormed off. 

Arthur and I made eye contact ‘n we just nodded at each other. I walked around the table and shut the door to the betting shop. I dusted off me hands then turned me attention back to Finn. 

“Go on then, la. It’s your free day.” I walked back into the living room where I had to finish sweeping. 

Finn followed after me. He sat in one of the two chairs. 

“Aliena,” He said. “when I grow older, you’ll be my wife, right?”

I froze at the question, or was it a statement? I giggled. 

‘Does little Finn have a crush on me?’

I stopped laughing and asked. “What are you on abar, Finn?”

“I don’t know. I figured that when I grow up, you’ll marry me.”

I began to giggle again. “Finn Shelby, you won’t even propose to me. Just expect it of me, eh? Well, I’ll make you a deal. If I’m still single by the time I’m 30, I’ll marry you.”

Finn jumped off the chair and rushed over to me. I had to crouch again to meet his eyes.

“You promised, Ali! You can’t take it back!” His smile was so big and adorable. It made me heart melt. 

‘I can’t believe that me first love confession is from a 10 almost 11 year old. Just me luck!’

“Now you take me promises seriously, huh? Yes, I promise. Now, run along. I still need to work out some errands, and I can’t have you bugging me.” I shoved him toward the door, and I didn’t pay attention to where he ran off to. 

True to me word, I got done with the sweeping then went on to finish me errands. Mrs. Davies’ pinch was slightly less harder than Mrs. Aitken’s today, and thank the Lord for it! 

‘I swear one of these days these ladies are gonna leave me with bruises!’

I had to run to the house ‘cause Mrs. Davies was chatting me up for so long. When I got there, Polly and John were walking in at the same time. They noticed me. 

“Aliena, how come you aren’t in the house already?” Polly asked me. 

I had to run a few more steps before I was caught up with them. “Mrs. Davies was chatting me up again. Wouldn’t let me leave ‘til I finally made up an excuse.” I was clutching me side since it had cramped up a little. 

‘I’m getting better at running. Which is good since I’m, well, maybe used to be an asthmatic. I don’t even need glasses to see far away anymore!’

“Well, shit. Looks like when the meetings over, we’ll have to fucking hussle to make dinner.” 

John opened the door for us and we walked in first. We walked into the betting room where Finn was standing by the door of. 

Polly and I walked on ahead. 

John said to Finn, “Sorry, little man. Maybe when you’re older.”

Arthur clapped his hands before shouting. “You’re all late. Why the-!”

“Yeah and we’re here now. Let’s get on with it.” Polly interrupted while taking off her coat and taking a seat. 

John took a seat and I leaned on a beam next to him. Me eyes naturally drifted over to Tommy’s direction. He had a ciggie burning. 

‘I swear this man! Well, baby steps.’

I’m fucking tellin’ a blag to meself, but at least I got him off the opium. He’s not drinking or smoking any less, though. 

‘I’ll give him one year. On December 3rd when the season is over, I’ll get to him. By all that’s holy, I’ll be bugging him abar his smoking!’

I think he felt me glare ‘cause he looked straight at me. I knew I was caught, but I wasn’t flustered. I glared at the ciggie by his side then back up at him. 

The little fucker just smirked and raised it to his lips. 

I rolled me eyes and looked to Arthur who was about to start the meeting. 

“Right! I've called this family meeting because I've got some very important news. Scudboat and Lovelock got back from Belfast last night. They were buying a stallion to cover their mares. They were in a pub on the Shankhill Road yesterday, and in that pub there was a copper. Handing out these.” Arthur said as he passed one to Ada then the rest of the pile to Lovelock.

Ada passed it onto John who read it aloud. “If you're over five feet and can fight, come to Birmingham." John passed it to Polly.

“They're recruiting Protestant Irishmen to come over here as Specials.” Arthur told us.

“To do what?” Ada asked.

“To clean up the city, Ada.” Tommy answered. “He's a Chief Inspector. The last four years, he's been clearing the IRA out of Belfast.”

I bit me lip as I knew that the tension in ‘ere would start to rise.

Arthur asked, quite agitated- might I add. “How do you know so bloody much?”

“'Cause I asked the coppers on our payroll.”

“And why didn't you tell me?”

“I'm telling you.”

Arthur took a swing out of his flask. I’m not equipped to handle stressful environments within friendly prescenes. So, I was making dumb faces in the corner. Like meme worthy faces. I literally did a tight lipped smile, that “white people” meme smile. I sported that smile with me eyebrows raised while widening me eyes, and looking away to the corner where no one stood.

“So, why are they sending him to Birmingham?” Polly asked with a magnifying glass in her hand.

“Well, there's been all these bloody strikes at the BSA. And the Austin works, lately. Now the papers are talking about sedition. And revolution. I reckon it's communists he's after.” Tommy said. 

But I noticed that when he said the comment about the communists, it got a reaction out of Ada.

“So this copper's gonna leave us alone, right?” 

“There are Irishmen in Green Lanes who left Belfast to get away from him. They say Catholic men who crossed him used to disappear in the night.”

“Yeah, but we ain't IRA.” John said. The attention turning on him. “We bloody fought for the King. Anyway, we're Peaky Blinders. We're not scared of coppers.”

“He’s right.” Arthur said.

Then, John delivered that famous line. “If they come for us, we'll cut them a smile each.” 

Let me just say, I had to hide me smirk. It was crazy how I felt pride when he said that.

“So, Arthur. Is that it?” Thomas asked. He looked unimpressed. 

“What do you think, Aunt Pol?” Arthur completely dismissed Tommy. 

Polly looked over at Thomas. I knew she knew that Tommy was up to something. I just hoped she never suspected I knew anything abar it too.

“This family does everything open. You've nothing more to say to this meeting, Thomas?”

“No. Nothing that's women's business.”

“This whole bloody enterprise was women's business while you boys were away at war. What's changed?”

“We came back.” 

Polly said or did anything after that. I was expecting a judgemental hum, at least! 

“Right! This concludes the family meeting!” Arthur announced. 

Polly stood straight up, her chair scraping the wood floor. “Come on, Aliena. We need to hurry up with dinner.” 

I followed her into the kitchen.

After dinner, I noticed that Polly had pulled Tommy aside as I was taking everyone’s dirty dishes to be washed. Not a minute later, Tommy came up to me.

He cleared his throat, his hand reaching for a ciggie. 

“Reach for it now and I may just throw this cuppa water at you.” I said with a teasing smile.

“Don’t know why. You know I’ll smoke it the minute I’ll leave your sight.” 

I blew raspberries at him.

“Well, Polly asked me to join her in church. So, it’s best if you sleep in your room tonight. I’ll probably be working ‘til late morning anyway. Okay?” He was looking at me with such expecting eyes. I noticed that he always wanted a definitive answer from me, hardly ever accepting me nods. 

“Yeah. Got it.”

“Good.” The second our conversation was over, he reached for a ciggie again. I paid it no mind this time and focused on getting the dishes done. 

The next morning, I got up abar an hour earlier. I was almost tempted to go back to sleep, but instead I crawled out of bed and took out the suitcase that hid under me bed. I unlocked the one that had an assortment of items, and took out me locked diary. 

I still don’t know why I was given a suitcase full of miscellaneous item, but I knew they would come in handy someday.

When I first came here and I couldn’t sleep, I took the liberty of writing out what I could remember from each episode. I knew it would benefit me!

I wrote, ‘After Thomas and Polly talk, the scene shifts to Grace coming into town. She gets the job. Then, Arthur gets captured by Campbell and gets roughed up badly. Tommy goes to the Garrison where he meets Grace. He comes back to the house and-’

Simultaneously, I shut me eyes and shut the book. I heaved a big sigh. 

‘Tommy will meet Grace today. “Are you a whore?” The gobshite! He’ll probably start distancing himself from me.’

I sighed again. When I gathered me pride, I got up and decided to have an early start on the day. I won’t allow Thomas Shelby to write me off from his life like that. 

‘I don’t care if the little fucker sees me like a little sister. I’d still be special to him and that’s all that counts. He stands between me and the whorehouse, in me opinion.’  

I did me hair in a bun, as always, but I choose a maroon button-up shirt and a green midi length skirt. Look, the skirt came to about the middle of me legs, alright? Then, I made breakfast. Polly wasn’t up yet which was absolutely weird for me! I didn’t know if she was out doing something, or something.

When I was done eating, I got me coat ‘n headed out the door. Men greeted me and moved out of me way like always. When I got to John’s door, I was troubled. The kids weren’t used to seeing me this early neither was John. I didn’t want to exactly intrude, but I also wanted to get some stuff out of the way, so I could see the scene where Arthur comes home after he gets beat up. 

So with that in mind, I unlocked the door to John’s flat. I immediately started cooking breakfast. When seven rolled ‘round, footsteps came pattering down. A head peaked from ‘round the corner and it was Katie.

“Ailena?” She asked. “Why are you here so early?” 

I smiled at her. “I just missed youse. That’s all.”

She scoffed with a smile. “It’s only been a day.” She took a seat.

I got up from the chair I was sitting on ‘n poured her some juice. “A day can feel like an eternity.” 

We had some time to talk before John came down. He was definitely surprised, but happily took the breakfast I made him and left to the shop. Once he left, I went to get the other kids up. I had them all dressed and “in school” by 9 am.  

They moaned and groaned abar having to be taught by me, but they would learn it’s for their own benefit in the future. By the way, the only one who was civil was Katie and John Jr.. But that was because I just read ‘em books— so he had nothing to fuss abar. When it hit 10:30, I said me goodbyes and told them to stay safe. 

I rushed back home where I found Finn smoking. I kept me promise and smacked him upside the head. Told ‘em it was time for school ‘n he ran off to get his stuff. He was getting better. Already getting closer to reading in his grade level. 

See ever since I took up the job to be their teacher, I’ve gone to sleep later. It was around 3 in the morning when I was by meself and 12 when Tommy decided he needed sleep. Any other time I would have to hassle him to sleep. His sleep schedule was a mess, but no matter what- he always got up at 5:30 or 6. 5:30 is with sleep while the latter is without.

When I was by meself, I would stay up making the lessons. 

It would be critical thinking problems that you’d get back in the 2000s. Stuff that I was asked. For math, it ranged from each kid. Katie was on percentages and long division, Ilsa and Finn were on multiplication and division and the adding and subtracting of long numbers, while Robbie was barely learning how to add and subtract. John Jr. was learning how to count to 100. 

It was almost 12 when Arthur pounded at the front door. I had abandoned Finn and ran to tell Tommy, who was in his office in the shop. 

I opened the door without knocking which caused him to look up at me. 

“It’s Arthur.” I said, almost breathless. 

His eyes widened and he instantly got up and rushed past me. I followed after him. We both went to the parlor where Polly was looking after him, working on wrapping up his hand. Tommy took one look at his face then ran out. 

‘Grace.’ I thought. 

“Ali, heat up a kettle of water, will you?” Ada told me.

I nodded. I went into the kitchen, filled the kettle with water, and heated it up. 

“Here ya go, Ada.” I said once it was done.

She took it and set it aside while I walked over to John who was leaning on the doorway. I took on the left since he was on the right. 

“John, wipe the blood out of his eye.”

“Since when did you give orders?”

“I'm a trained nurse.”

John and I both had these smirks on our faces while Arthur scoffed.

“Don't make me laugh.” Arthur said. “It hurts me face.”

“I bloody am.”

“You went to one first aid class in the church hall and got thrown out for giggling.” John said.

“Not before I learned how to stop somebody from choking.”

“I'm not bloody choking, am I?” Arthur said.

“You will be when I wrap this cloth ‘round your neck.” Ada said while pouring the water into a pan. The door opened and in walked Tommy with a bottle of rum.

I couldn’t stop the chuckle that came from me throat. John and I looked at each other, still having similar smiles.

“Let me see him.” He walked ‘round to Arthur with a ciggie hanging from his lips. He inspected his face before giving ‘em the bottle of alcohol. “All right, have this.”

Arthur took one swing before putting it back down with a groan. Tommy wrang the cloth of its excess water. “Give me that.” He said, pouring some of the bottle into the cloth before pressing it against Arthur’s face.

He inhaled sharply in pain. 

“You’re all right.” Tommy said, trying to soothe him. Both of his hands cradling his brother’s face.

But Arthur clasped his hand around one of Tommy’s arms. “He said Mr Churchill sent him to Birmingham. National interest, he said. Something about a robbery.”

Tommy backed away from him. Almost visibly upset, if you knew how to read him. I didn’t miss the pointed stare Polly gave ‘em either. 

“He said he wants us to help him.”

John interrupted. “We don’t help coppers.”

“He knew all about our war records. He said we're patriots. Like him.” 

I scoffed to meself since I knew the truth. ‘Fucking bastard! Didn’t even fight in the war.’

“Wants us to be his eyes and ears. I said-!” Then, he groaned in pain. Polly sh-ing him up as she bandaged his hands. “I said we'd have a family meeting, take a vote.”

Tommy said nothing. Just kept staring off. Now that the show was starting, it was so much easier to read him. It was obvious to me that he was rattled, but I’m sure to the rest of the family it looked like he couldn’t have been bothered.

“Well, why not? Hmm? We've no truck with Fenians or communists.” 

Tommy kept his mouth shut again. He was looking over at Polly and then at me. He exhaled audibly before Arthur started up again.

“What's wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with him lately?” He turned to Polly.

She said. “If I knew, I'd buy the cure from Compton's chemists. Ali, come help me clean his face up.”

I stood straight. Tommy and I shared a glance before I looked away and took the cloth that had been discarded onto the table into me hands. I barely touched his face with it and he fuckin’ hissed.

It was the dead of night. I was busy correcting past homework that I had given to the kids. I was on Finn’s math when I heard Tommy’s door open and then close.  If I remember correctly, he was supposed to use his pipe to go to sleep tonight. 

That worry alone motivated me enough to finish up Finn’s paper faster. 

‘The bastard is stubborn. No, all men of this age doesn’t like asking for help. Especially the help of a woman.’

I exhaled with puffed cheeks as I marked Finn’s last problem. I hurried out of me chair and to Tommy’s room. Me robe whipped around me. When I opened the door, he had a fire lit and was rolling out his pipe. 

He looked at me. No emotion shown. I was mad. I was-!

‘I didn’t think as I marched up to him. I didn’t slap him, but I slammed me hand down on the light he had lit.’ 

No, that was just an intrusive thought. I really wanted to do it, though.

I walked up the light and blew it out. “You’re not doing this. You have me.”

“I did this because I don’t want you.” Despite saying that, he rerolled up his pipe and set it down on the nightstand.

“I outta break that thing, you know. Just chuck it into the fire downstairs.”

He whipped his head up at me and he glared. 

It made me shiver and not in a good way. Reflexively, I glared back. “Don’t try intimidating me, Thomas. Not tonight. You want to sleep. Let’s do it my way as agreed. Because you have fallen asleep my way and you were the one who set up-!”

“Yeah! Okay, I got it.” Very childishly, he laid down with his arms crossed above his eyes. 

I sighed. ‘I should probably ask him about the shovels. If he still hears them with me.’ 

So, I did. 

“Tommy, do you still hear the shovels? Even when I’m here… with you?” 

He stiffened. Then, he dropped his arms. He looked up at the ceiling with his jaw clenched. He tsked, closing his eyes. “No. I don’t hear them.” 

“Do you still dream abar them?” Me throat burned as did me face. 

“Yes. But not as often anymore.” His tone was so sad.  

“Then, why were you-?”

“Because. I shouldn’t be relying on you, a girl who’s not my family, to get me sleep at night. One day we’ll have to go our separate ways. It’s only right that you find yourself a good man and you can’t sleep with me then, now, can you?” He looked at me. The look on his face was sharp. 

‘It’s like he’s breaking up with me.’ I laughed at the thought.

“You don’t have to worry abar that. I’m not gonna find meself a good man anytime soon.”

“You don’t-!”

“I do! So, let it go and let me help you. You’re a good man, Tom. I don’t want to see you suffer. Especially when all you want is to do is get a good night’s rest.” I stopped fiddling with me hands and dropped them to me sides. 

‘He wouldn’t know that there was a warning lying ‘round me words. That he was gonna be suffering more. Soon, he’d have to orchestrate Danny’s fake death. Then, everything else.’

“Fine.” He said. 

I took off me robe, climbed over him, and laid beside him. I bit me lip before deciding to speak. “Lay lower than me. Don’t question it, just do it.” 

He sighed and did as I said. I scooted meself up then closer to ‘em. “Lift your head.” He did it and I extended me arm under his neck. “Face me.” He did it. His head near me chest. With me free hand, I brought it up to his face and began to stroke his cheek and run me fingers through his hair. 

I whispered things to him like, “You’re safe now,” “You’re home,” “Nothing’s gonna hurt you,” and “It’s okay to fall asleep.” 

And he fell asleep. He fell asleep fast. I, on the other hand, didn’t. I was too hyper aware of his body being so close to mine. This was the first time I’ve ever held a person of the opposite sex. It surprised me that this even worked! 

But, like I said, I didn’t fall asleep fast like he did and sometime during the night, his breathing quickened and his hold on me tightened, by a lot. I figured he was ‘aving the dream abar the tunnels, so I started soothing him again. It took ‘em awhile, but he calmed back down. I couldn’t bloody go to sleep after that, so it took me abar another 30 minutes before I fell asleep.

The next day was calm, nothing noteworthy happened. At night, Tommy told me that I was to head to bed. I asked him why ‘n he said that he was heading to Charlie’s yard. I twitched at the name. I always did when he said that name. After all, it’s me birth name.

The day after that in the midmorning, he ran to me ‘n asked me if his plan to fake Danny’s death would work. I told ‘em yes.

I saw when he came back, visibly disturbed, his head hanging low. I wanted to comfort him but Arthur got to him first. I remembered me place then. I couldn’t comprehend the plot that much. I watched as they had their dispute. I jumped when Tommy closed the book shut and then walked off. 

He grabbed me arm before he left ‘n told me I was sleeping by meself t’night too. I nodded and then he left the shop. 

That night I watched as the snow fell. Me heart felt as if someone was squeezing it through me chest.

Guess me wish wouldn’t come true, afterall.

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[simsadventures]

After All: Chapter 7: Please

Summary: Tony learns about Hannah, and has a real problem remaining cool. Meanwhile, you spend your time with Bruce, and as Bucky sees you with him continuously, he gets a little jealous.

Warnings: angst, angry Tony, jealousy, fluff, swearing

Word Count: 2461

A/N: I got carried away with the Tony bit a little, so my apologies. Anyway, thank you everyone for the positive feedback, means a world to me. Love you all 3000!!

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Tony was seething. He was sitting in his chair, listening to all Bucky had to say, even if it took all his willpower not to jump at him. His relationship with Bucky was almost nonexistent, and he was on the team pretty much only because Steve insisted on it, and swore he would take care of his friend. Tony never went on a mission with Bucky; fortunately, the world being a little less crazy nowadays, so the whole team rarely got together on missions.

He was well aware that Bucky did all those things, even killing his parents under mind control, but that didn’t mean he had to suddenly like him. And Bucky wasn’t that fond of Tony, to be honest, he thought of him as a narcissistic asshole, but he never let his emotions get the better of him. He knew he was lucky to be on the team, to have a safe space, and on top of it all, friends bordering with family. The two of them never really tried to spend some time together, so it was a surprise for Tony when he saw Bucky marching towards his office.

He was pissed not only at Bucky and Hannah, even though his anger was primarily directed towards those two. He was also mad at himself. He gave you a job, hell, he did everything he could to persuade you to come and work with them. He thought of you as one of the most brilliant scientists and inventors of this era, and he needed you on the team. He promised you the best working place you could imagine, and here you were, bullied by members of his team. He obviously didn’t pay enough attention to you, because if he were, he could’ve seen what was coming.

Even when Bucky finished the whole story, Tony remained calm. He was sure if he spoke up, he’d actually kill someone. So he took a few breaths and closed his eyes, trying to think of the best thing to do. He knew he had to fire or at least transfer Hannah fro screwing up with people like that. His problem was Bucky. If he could, he would send him flying out of the window behind him, and just the thought of it made him smile a little. Yup that would make him happy for sure and Tony would bet you’d like to see it too.

But as much as he wanted nothing more than to hurt Bucky, he knew it wasn’t an option. Not really.

“What do you propose I do, Barnes?”

Bucky stared at him, dumbfounded. He expected a lot of things, but not a calm and collected Tony. At least on the outside, anyway. “I can’t really tell you what to do with Hann-“

“Oh, I’m not asking about Hannah. I’m asking you, what do you think I should do with you? I understand that you had pretty much no idea that Y/N is not a HYDRA agent. But you still hurt her pretty much, from what I hear. So can you tell me what I should do with someone like you? Because let me tell you something. I would be ecstatic to punch the living hell out of you, I really would, but I don’t think it’s my place. I don’t think I have the right to punish you. I believe that whatever Y/N’s got for you will be punishment enough. So, be on your way, and I advise you to try and stay clear of me for at least the next two days. This calm demeanour will wear off rather quickly.”

Bucky widened his eyes a little, nodded sharply, and walked out of Tony’s office. He expected to be sidelined from missions for a month, or something like that. But Tony was right. Every second that you didn’t speak to him, and genuinely didn’t care about him, hurt ten thousand times more than anything Tony could do to him.

As soon as Bucky left Tony’s office, Tony shouted at F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Friday, I need you to send agent Burks to my office, ASAP.”

“Yes, sir. Agent Burks is being informed.”

Tony just hummed and stared out the window. He knew she was a reasonably good agent, but at the same time, this country had many good agents, so he wouldn’t miss her. Hell, he didn’t know what she looked like. He was sure that the second she comes to the room he’d know immediately, but at the current state, no face was coming to his mind. He patiently waited, gave few orders for FRIDAY to sent out, until he heard the door open and close.

He turned around and there she was. As he thought, he was aware she was one of the agents, but that was all he could say to their relationship. Even his relationship with Barnes was stronger, Tony thought, and the thought almost made him snicker. What a paradox!

“Sit down, agent Burks, there are some things we need to discuss.”

Hannah had to idea what would Mr Stark want. She wasn’t aware of anything she’d done wrong, so she could only hope this was some kind of promotion or a pay raise.

“You wanted to see me, Mr Stark?”

She smiled sweetly. She was, indeed, a beautiful woman, but Tony couldn’t care less. One, he had Pepper, and she was the most beautiful woman on Earth, and two, this woman in front of him was a lying bitch trying to get somebody’s attention by hurting other people. And Tony couldn’t stand people like that.

“It got to me that you’ve been acting unprofessionally lately. You have anything to say for yourself?”

“M’ sorry? I’m not aware of me doing anything wrong, sir.”

Right, Tony thought and smirked. If she at least had the decency to come clean and beg for forgiveness. Not Tony’s, of course, but still.

“So you’re not aware you came with a fairytale that one of our best scientists is a spy, and you also didn’t put this very idea into Bucky’s head, then?”

There was a silence in the room. Tony could have sworn he saw all the thoughts running through Hannah’s mind, while she was trying to think of some lame excuse.

She wanted to speak up, but Tony stopped her. “You know what? I don’t even wanna hear it. You’re a good agent, I’m willing to acknowledge that much. But you are obviously a shitty person, and, to be honest, I, nor anyone else wants such a person around. But because you are good at your job, I’m not gonna fire you. You will be transferred to the CIA, with whom, as you might know, we collaborate very closely. They are always in need of more people, and I already sent a message to their headquarters, and you are very welcomed there. I didn’t tell them about what you did, but trust me, if I found out that you’re still doing shit like that? I will make sure everyone in the States knows, are we clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Hannah all but saluted him and ran out of his office. He sent a few other agents to her room, making sure she really leaves and leaves without talking to you. That was Tony’s primary mission. Tony thought the whole thing was a success, nobody fought him, and everyone was doing exactly what he wanted them. Good day at the office, he thought and made a mental note to come by your lab the next day, to see if you were ok and if you knew that Hannah was no longer part of the team.

—-

The day Tony came to your office was one of the happiest in the latest history. At first, you were pretty shaken, because you were that kind of person who never tried to make a problem to others, especially by going to the boss and complaining. But it wasn’t you, and it kind of surprised you when you learned that it was actually Bucky.

You knew about the relationship Tony and Bucky shared, so you were confused as to why he would go to his “boss/colleague” for you. Because from what Tony said, it seemed that, indeed, Bucky went there so that Hannah wouldn’t bother you, primarily. What surprised you, even more, was that Tony was actually speaking in a very positive tone about Bucky. Not friendly, of course, but in a way that you saw that Tony sympathised with Bucky. After he left, Bruce came running towards you, asking you what that was all about.

When you told him the whole story, Bruce insisted that the two of you had to celebrate getting rid of that bitch. Bruce had a lot of emotions towards Hannah, and you knew that her only luck was not meeting him in a hallway somewhere. It could have been the last she did, for that matter.

It was a Friday night, and you invited Bruce over to yours, to watch a movie and eat a shitload of popcorn. That was your kind of perfect Friday night!

You decided that Superman vs Batman was the greatest choice for the night, and settled on the couch. Not that you were paying much attention to the movie, thanks to Bruce’s constant babbling. He finally asked Natasha out, and you had to prep him for his date the next night. You were telling him about great places to have dinner in Brooklyn when suddenly, you heard a loud knock on your door. Bruce was standing up to get it, but you pushed him back into the couch and went to answer it yourself.

When you opened the door, you saw Bucky standing there, three packs of popcorn in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. It was Friday night, he thought that he could start mission “Redemption” by going back to your favourite activity. It was an olive branch, you knew that, but there was no way in the world that you’d throw out Bruce and let Bucky in. And having the two of them together was a bit risky too, Bruce was still on the verge of breaking Bucky’s jaw whenever he saw him.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” you wanted it to sound harsh and distant, but all you got out of yourself was a meek little nothing. You were a pussy, you thought to yourself and inwardly rolled your eyes at your behaviour.

“I thought we could watch a movie, Y/N. It’s Friday, you know?” he smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. He really was a handsome man, you gotta give him that.

“It’s nice of you, but I already have company. Maybe some other time. Goodnight, Bucky.”

You could see that Bucky’s eyes roamed across your little apartment before his eyes landed on Bruce. He clenched his jaw, mumbled his Goodnight to you both, and was on his way.

You were aware of how it looked, you and Bruce watching a movie on Friday night, with a blanket previously draped over the both of you. But you were just good friends. You shrugged your shoulder and gave your full attention back to Bruce, who was a very hopeless man when it came to the woman. He might have had 7 PhDs, but he lacked a basic course in being around women he wanted to impress. It would have offended you a little if it weren’t Bruce. But you let it slide and told him all about the first day touches and all that. Although, you were quite sure it would work differently with the Black Widow herself.

Next time you saw Bucky was in a gym. You wanted to get in at least some form of shape, and Bruce offered that he’d go with you. Hulk was bulky and all, but he had problems lifting a heavier bag.

You were both on a treadmill, chatting freely, sometimes laughing so much so had to step to the side so you wouldn’t fall off that devilish thing.

Bucky was sparing with Steve, who learned about what happened and beaten the crap out of Bucky. All seemed to be good now, so it was harmless jabs here and there. Bucky was looking at you and Bruce, and his breathing got heavier. He couldn’t help it but saw almost red at the moment. He wanted to be there with you. He wanted you to feel comfortable enough with him to laugh like that. Damn, he loved your laugh. It never ceased to make him smile as well. He couldn’t believe he lost the privilege to make you laugh because some bitch told him to. He was even more stupid than he thought.

Steve stopped as well, following Bucky’s gaze, and smirking lightly. “What is it, jerk? Little jealous, are we?”

“Shut up, punk. I’m not jealous, and I’m definitely not jealous of Bruce!”

“Sure thing, buddy. I think we both know the truth. Why don’t you talk to her, huh?”

Bucky sighed and turned to face Steve again. “You think I haven’t been trying? But every fucking time I try to apologise again, or just simply talk to her, Bruce is there, like a loyal puppy.”

“Oh, and who’s fault is that, bud? If only you spoke to me, made sure that Y/N was really a target, you could’ve avoided this situation altogether. But because you are scared to love, scared to show your real self to someone, you all too eagerly shoved Y/N away. I would like to help you, my friend, but that’s something you gotta realise on your own. Because that girl? She is gold, and I think you know that too. So if I were you, I’d put my head out of my ass and beg her for forgiveness, even if it meant fighting Hulk.”

Steve finished his speech with a punch to Bucky’s ribs, which sent him to the floor. “That’s for trusting someone more than me.” He smirked and helped Bucky off the ground.

Bucky looked in your direction, where you were now stretching, your ass in the air, and he gulped. Hard. You were gold, inside and out, and he would get you back. He simply had to. There was no other way.

You looked in Bucky’s direction, knowing well enough he was watching you stretch, so you gave him a good show of what he was missing. You were no Hannah, but you were yourself, and that was enough. There was a little, a tiny part of you which hoped it would be enough for Bucky as well. And by the way he was adjusting himself just by watching you, you wanted to think it was.

/ Next Chapter >

After All:

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[ducktracy]

157. the fella with the fiddle (1937)

release date: march 27th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: mel blanc (fiddling mouse), billy bletcher (grandpa mouse, tax collector), berneice hansell (grandchildren)

one of the handful of titles spelled erroneously with the blue ribbon issue, and despite being not being shown BECAUSE of the reissue, this is master animator ken harris’ first animation credit. he joined the crew with freleng’s little dutch plate back in 1935, but only got a credit until now! harris was one of the top animators at WB, if not the top, and for great reason. on another note, mel gets another substantial role as the eponymous fella with the fiddle. a grandfather tells the story about a greedy mouse posing as a blind person to collect some extra cash. but, like always, there’s a twist. 

open to the abode of j. field mouse, as indicated by the mailbox outside his tree home. inside, the presumed mouse lounges in his armchair, chuffing on a cigar, perusing a newspaper, trying to relax while his grandchildren run and scream and play around him. peace was never an option. suddenly, the ringing of a bell outside signals for all the children to congregate by the window.

even though it’s night, the ringing is the telltale chime of the ice cream man. the kids crowd around their grandfather, begging for a nickel. “grandpa, give us a nickel, grandpa!” the grandpa happily obliges, tossing a nickel out in the middle of the floor for the kids to catch. perfect way to get those little brats away! the kids dogpile one one another, scrambling to get access to that beautiful silver coin. in the midst of their struggle, the coin rolls away from the fight, falling into a crack between the floorboards. 

the once chipper grandfather looms over the kids wirh a frown. “so, you WILL be greedy!” he shakes his head. “now i’ll tell you a story about a mouse who WAS greedy... and came to a band end.” a bit of a stark transition in the grandfather’s demeanor, but you can’t have the exposition taking all day.

“‘twas the fella with the fiddle.” grandpa pantomimes a fiddle, with the appropriate sound effects. he lays out the beginning of the story, telling the children that the fiddling fella bought a violin, playing until his arms got sore and breaking 100 strings or more (the children whistle in impressed awe). the choice to incorporate the sounds of a fiddle with each pantomime was a good one at that. fun fact: friz freleng was a classically trained violinist!

while the grandpa recounts the story, the surroundings melt away into the actual fella with the fiddle. mel blanc provides the vocals, singing the criminally catchy song (that’s often been used as a motif for porky in cartoons such as the blow out and little beau porky.) this is definitely one of my favorite merrie melody songs. mel’s falsetto as he sings “the girls say ‘oh!’” is hilarious, and just the first of MANY falsettos in his career. the fella with the fiddle appears to be blind, sporting sunglasses and even posting signs that read HELP THE BLIND. one passerby in particular is especially curious, a seedy fellow who waves his hand in front of the fella with the fiddle’s eyes. no reaction. filled with twisted glee, the passerby reaches into the donations cup, when the fella with the fiddle knocks him on the knuckles with his bow with the utmost nonchalance, continuing his song. wonderful comedic timing.

after the song is over, the fella with the fiddle hobbles his way home, using his cane to guide him along. he reaches his shack of a home, when suddenly he lifts his glasses, whipping around the house corners to ensure he has no followers. some blind guy! as to be expected. with the coast clear, the mouse puffs out his chest and strolls inside. even better than the blind fake out is his interior fake out: his worn down shack is lavishly furnished with chandeliers, rugs, gilded furniture and the like, a fitting accompaniment of “with plenty of money and you” to further the mouse’s wealth status.

but friz doesn’t stop there. the mouse's butler bids him good evening, the mouse dropping his sunglasses in his top hat and offering them to the butler to stow away. the mouse changes in the closet, now donning a tuxedo (gotta make yourself comfortable at home!) as he strolls across the living room to access his safe. a looney tradition we’ve been seeing since the goopy geer days in 1932. the mouse opens his safe, and the one behind it, and then the wooden safe behind THAT one. friz maintains his comedic momentum as the mouse takes out a long sock, the top closed off like another safe. genius.

content, the mouse situated himself at the dining table, eagerly opening the safe. a sea of gold coins pour out onto the table, and the mouse runs his fingers through them, letting the gold shower himself and the table. did you know he’s rich? just a hunch. suddenly, a few aggressive knocks on the door. the mouse freezes. “who’s there?” billy bletcher’s voice rings loud and clear behind the door. “it’s the tax assessor!” 

we get a taste of our first mel blanc scream as the mouse repeats dubiously, “tax assessor? ...TAX ASSESSOR!?” i gotta say, while mel is subdued in this cartoon in comparison to future roles, he’s certainly versatile. it’s like friz wanted to see what he was capable of: singing, doing low grunts and womanly falsettos in said song, and now screaming. the whole package! mel does a wonderful job as the mouse. not the most memorable role, but it’s something.

what launches next is an epic transformation sequence, ever so fittingly accompanied by a rousing rendition of “country boy” as the mouse desparately scrambles to hide his lavish lifestyle. he scoops his money back into the sock, throwing it back in the safe(s) and locking it up tight, then rushing to transform the interior. reversing walls, flipping portraits, pulling ragged curtains, replacing pianos with stoves, couches with rickety beds. the animation of the mouse turning the wall around to reveal the bed is particularly nice. a great, high energy sequence, and that accompaniment of “country boy” makes it all the better.

meanwhile, the tax collector grows increasingly impatient, pounding on the door. finally, the mouse, now donning his poor man’s disguise, allows him inside. he puts on his best act. “good evenin’! could you spare a dime for a cup of coffee?” the tax collector obliges by dumping the ashes of his cigar in the mouse’s outstretched palm. “so, you’re a poor guy, eh?” stalling’s minor key rendition of the title song does wonders to add to the apprehension and slyness of the scene, accentuated when the mouse spots one of his shiny gold coins still perched on top of a table in plain sight. the mouse retrieves the coin as fast as he can, a sly grin on his anxious face as the tax collector ogles at him.

nevertheless, the invasion begins. the tax collector parks himself on a rickety old chair, and receives quite a surprise when the floorboard spins 360 degrees beneath him. floored, the inspector jumps up. “what’s goin’ on here?” more questions raised as he leans against a button, the stove now spinning in the same way, nearly revealing the grand piano on the other side of the wall. friz does a lovely job with the build up and suspense. still funny, but definitely drawn out and apprehensive. 

“say, what kind of a joint is this anyway?” the spinning room reaches its full gag potential as the interior goes haywire, hectic speeds of flashing walls, furnishings, and so on. certainly feels like something from one of tex avery’s cartoons at MGM, not even warner bros! the speed and comedic timing is in tip top shape and makes for a hilarious, fresh, ahead of its time gag. i’m impressed watching this in 2020--i can only imagine being a moviegoer in 1937! i believe this is ken harris animation.

friz’s momentum is insanely strong in this cartoon. he keeps outdoing himself with his own gags, and the payoff is very strong (a trend that would continue throughout his entire career. he and chuck jones had very satisfying and hilarious payoffs!) terrified, the tax collector darts out of the house, breathing a sigh of relief. ever so slowly does he pull out a bottle of whiskey from his jacket, tossing it away. absolutely genius. 

in order to fake out the fake out, the tax collector pretends to storm away as audibly as possible. with a shady grin, he slides back to the door. inside, the mouse is reverting his shack back to its old, lavish self. the jiggle of the doorknob serves as morse code to the mouse, who suddenly realizes he still has company. in a flurry, he restores his shack to its country, rickety glory, just in time to flash a sheepish grin to the angry tax collector barging in. pissed, he takes his leave once more.

fed up, the tax collector begins to march away, when a giant cat (these ARE mice) stops him in his tracks. terrified, the tax collector scrambles through the junkyard, creating his own path in all of the cans, the cans falling back down. the cat merely looks on. while this gag is seemingly useless, it IS one of the earliest blackout gags we’ve seen (the screen fading to black after). all of the directors would use blackout gags, but i’ve noticed friz and chuck especially loved their blackout gags.

at peace, the greedy mouse rifles through his golden coins in ecstasy once more. yet, once more, he has company. not the tax collector, but the cat. to lure him out, the cat places a golden coin in a mouse trap (good) and positions it by a mouse hole. greedy is the mouse, but not too smart... or is he? friz fakes us out as the mouse darts through the traps, snagging the coin and running back inside with it in his clutches. i was honestly expecting the obligatory merrie melody chase scene, so this was a GREAT surprise.

now, the cat opts for a gold crown instead, placing a crown on one of his teeth and winking knowingly at the audience. the cat whistles, pointing to its tantalizing tooth. the mouse tries to fight the urge, dramatically posing in resistance, but the urge is just too overwhelming. the mouse runs out and back in with the tooth... and only the tooth. no crown to be found. finally, the mouse runs back into the cat’s mouth for a third and final time. the cat’s got him. we see the last of the greedy mouse, who desperately pounds against the closed jaws of the beast from inside, but to no avail. such is the life.

back to the grandpa mouse, lounging in his armchair as he finishes the story to his enraptured grandchildren. one of the curious mice piques up “did he eat him ALL up, grandpa?” grandpa answers in the affirmative, that yes, he did. suddenly, we’re treated for a surprise: one of the grandchildren notices a shiny, gold tooth hanging from the grandfather’s pocket. iris out as the kid grimaces, blowing on a party streamer to signal that the alibi is baloney.

this is one of the most enjoyable merrie melodies we’ve seen so far, at least for me. don’t let the simple looks fool you--this isn’t another standard friz freleng cartoon. i was already excited going in, seeing as mel had a big role and that the song was so damned catchy, but i didn’t think it would nearly be as funny as it was. friz was on an absolute roll in this one--his momentum never stops. revealing the blind mouse isn’t blind at all, living a lavish lifestyle, or the gag where the tax collector throws out his bottle of whiskey after the ever changing interiors... this is a great cartoon that throws a ton of curveballs at you. not that tex avery is the end all be all of animation, nor is he the only good one at the studio (all of the directors at this period are phenomenal, i love them all and have really grown to respect friz’s work a LOOOOOOT more), but the avery influence has rubbed off on friz and tashlin. the merrie melodies are funny, sardonic, the disney roots crumbling before our very eyes. this is one of the funniest cartoons i believe we’ve seen. is it the funniest ever? absolutely not, and it probably stands at being mediocre compared to the other fantastic cartoons looney tunes entails. but for these reviews, it’s important to keep that 1937 mindset, trying to view it with fresh eyes and comparing it with the past instead of the future (though i do like to draw my connections.) absolutely check it out! go watch it now!

link!

[sunstar-of-the-north]

My Monster Alien Boyfriend?!: Chapter 2

            Friday rolled around and the many people of Los Angeles were excited for the weekend. None of them were as excited as Halu and Ravage however. The two were able to finalize their anniversary plans and couldn’t wait until Halu’s last class was over. They were tapping their fingers, eyeing the clock impatiently.

           One of the students in their small group gave him a smirk. “Do you got somewhere to be dude?” Halu blinked and turned to their class mate. “Huh? Did you say something?” The student chuckled. “I asked you do you got somewhere to be?”

           “Oh! No sorry. I guess I’m ready for the weekend, you know?” Everyone in the group nodded in empathy. “Yeah, I feel you. Well we got twenty more minutes, so let’s figure out this code and be done with it.” Halu nodded, slightly feeling embarrassed. Once class was over, they got their things together and dashed out of the room with the speed that would equal a cheetah’s. Ravage chuckled within their mind. “Make sure not to trip over your feet dear. I don’t want to see you fall flat on your face.” Halu chuckled, making a few students look at them. “I know you’ll catch me if I do!”

           Once Halu dropped off their things at their room, they went straight to the college’s parking lot. They found their car and quickly got inside. After the student started the car, they proceeded to drive out of the lot. A few minutes later they parked outside of a grocery store. Halu entered the large building. They took a moment to collect their barring’s then took a left. It took a while but they eventually found the snack aisle. They wandered down said aisle for a little bit, scanning the shelves. “Ah, here it is!” They took a box of cheese crackers off the shelf and proceeded to the fruit section. There Halu picked some green grapes and apples. Once they paid for their items, they left the store and drove to the liquor store.

           The student felt slightly out of their element. They rarely ever bought alcohol for themselves. Thankfully the wine section wasn’t too far away from the enterance. They walked over to many bottles stacked neatly on the shelves. Halu rubbed their chin in thought as they eyed them. “What are you in the mood for, red or white wine?”

           “…Definitely red. It’s been a while since I’ve had a glass.”

               Halu smiled. “Red it is then!” They took two bottles off the shelf. “Should we get C'est du Vin or Bouteille de Vin?” Before their boyfriend could answer, a tall man rested a hand on the shelf closest to them. He was giving them a friendly grin. “Having trouble finding something kid?” At first they were surprised by the man but then smiled. “No thank you. I know what I want. I just don’t know which brand I want.” The man nodded in understanding. “That can be a tough choice. It’s hard to find a good brand. It’s almost as hard as trying to find a good girlfriend!” The man chuckled at his own joke. Halu simply nodded. “So what’s the wine for?”

           “Oh uh—I’m celebrating!” The man grinned even more. “Oh cool! What are you celebrating for?” They suddenly went brain dead. “Just tell him it’s none of his business,” growled Ravage. They were about to tell the symbiote to not be rude when the man snapped his fingers. “Mid-terms right?” It took a moment for Halu to register what he said before replying, “...Yes! I uh—got really good grades on them and what better way to celebrate than with some wine and dine!”

           “I couldn’t agree more! Well if I were you, I’d pick C'est du Vin! It has a great flavor that lasts for a long time!” Halu thought about it for a moment. They then asked Ravage for his opinion. “…I hate to admit it, but that does sound good.” The student slightly rolled their eyes. They smiled at the man. “Sounds great to me! Thank you very much for the help!” He gave them an OK sign. “No problem! Don’t party too hard now,” he said playfully. Halu giggled and waved them good bye. Soon they and Ravage were back in the car. They noticed how quiet their boyfriend was during their conversation with the other person. “Is everything ok sweetheart?” Ravage didn’t respond. They were about to say something when he cut them off. “I’m not jealous! I just—don’t’ think it was any of his business, that’s all.” The twenty-one year old sighed. “Whatever you say Ravage. I just hope you won’t be a party pooper at our own anniversary.” He only huffed in response.

           The duo eventually made it back to Halu’s dorm room. They took a block of cheddar cheese from the mini fridge and put it in the grocery bag with the other foods. Halu started to change into a white, button up shirt, a sweater vest, a red bow tie, and a pair of black dress pants to pull the whole outfit together. “You look stunning.” They blushed slightly by his comment. “T-Thank you…well uh we better get going!” Halu took the bags with them, locking the doors.

                                                        ***

           It was dark by the time Halu and Ravage made it to their destination. They were at the very outskirts of the suburbs. They set up a pic-nic on a small hill, away from the prying eyes of humanity. This allowed Ravage to be outside of his host’s body without being spotted. He was currently watching Halu struggle with opening the wine bottle. They forgot to bring a corkscrew and were using a cheese knife as a substitute. He couldn’t help but chuckle at his lover. “Do you need help,” he asked. They shook their head defiantly. “Nope! I can do it!” After five minutes of huffing and puffing, Halu let out a defeated sigh. They handed the bottle to the symbiote with a hung head. He chuckled softly and took it. He opened his mouth which was full of sharp, shark like fangs. He poked his canine tooth into the cork. Once it was firmly stuck, Ravage twisted the bottle. It let out a loud pop when it was opened.

           Ravage spit out the cork and turned to the Arabian. “You never cease to amaze me,” Halu said with an impressed smile. He shrugged with a smug grin. “I aim to please.” They laughed and went back to the bags. Their grin dropped suddenly. Ravage raised an ‘eye-brow’ at them. “What?” They turned to them, blushing in embarrassment. “I—forgot the cups.” Ravage sighed while shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

           They grinned sheepishly. “Um—keep me, feed me, and love me?” He ‘rolled’ his eyes. “I suppose so…Well it is just the two of us.” He then proceeded to take a swig of the wine. Halu gently punched his arm. “Hey, save some for me!” The creature chuckled deeply. “Okay, okay!” He handed them the bottle. Ravage then started to cut the block of cheese. He opened the box of crackers once he made a good amount of slices. Meanwhile Halu was opening the bags of grapes. They were about to eat a plump one when it was suddenly snatched out their fingers by a long, pink tongue. He frowned at Ravage who was grinning mischievously. The student couldn’t help but smile back.

            Pretty soon the two made a decent dent in their snacks. Halu was lying on their back while Ravage was still sitting up. They were both looking up into the sky. Even though most of the stars were covered by smog, some of them were able to gleam dimly passed the brown clouds.

             “…Did you ever imagine yourself to be where you are now?”

             Ravage turned to Halu. Although it was dark, the faint lights of the city made their brown eyes twinkle in the night. The symbiote pondered the question for a while. He then laid down on his side, only inches away from Halu. “No. I didn’t…I thought I would have eaten half of the population by now.” The human tried to hide their discomfort. They scooted until their body was touching Ravage’s. “Do…you regret not doing that?” He was somewhat taken aback by their question. Without hesitating, he answered no. Ravage could feel Halu’s muscles relaxing immediately. “I’m glad…to be honest; I didn’t expect to be where I am either. I mean—how many people wake up one day and be like, ‘Hey, today I’m going to let an alien from outer space live inside my body for the rest of our lives!’?”

             Ravage roared in laughter, resting his hand over his face. Halu soon joined in on the giggle fest. After a while the two started to get quiet again. The student noticed though that there was a bit of tension in the air. They watched their lover from the corner of their eye. His jaw was locked tightly and he was clawing the ground with his long, red nails. Halu touched his arm. He looked over to them, eyes looking slightly hard. “Yes?” They nervously licked their lips before speaking. “Are…you ok? You seem on edge.” He nodded. “I’m fine.”

             “No you’re not.”

              The symbiote frowned at them. “Yes, I am.” It was now their turn to frown. “Ravage, I’ve known you for a full two years now. I can tell when something is bothering you. Now spill it!” Ravage narrowed his eyes. He then sat up with a soft growl. He didn’t say anything, much to the human’s annoyance. Halu suddenly had an idea of why he might be in such a sour mood. “Oh my gosh, don’t tell me that you’re jealous! That guy was trying to be nice! Seriously you’re being-“

              “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

              Halu cocked their head in confusion. “What?” He gripped the grass tightly as he hissed, “He was practically devouring you with his eyes. The way they hungrily searched your body made me want to rip them right out of their sockets! It’s not just him either. Everyone looks at you as if you’re fresh meat. Yes, it makes me jealous but it also pisses me off! You’re a person, not some juicy morsel that people can ogle at!”

             Ravage turned his attention back to them. They were sitting up, eyes wide. He then averted his gaze, feeling ashamed for getting so upset. A few moments later he felt a warm hand on his cheek. The hand made him turn his head to Halu. They had a soft expression on their face. “…People can stare at me all they want.” Ravage was perplexed by their statement. He was about to say something, but they put their finger on his lips to silence him. “I could care less, just as long as you keep staring at me. Your gaze is the only one I care about.” With that, Halu planted a small kiss on his lips. The symbiote’s eyes grew to the size of moons by the gesture. He then grinned, a loud purr growing within his neck. Ravage returned the kiss but his was slightly harder. The two then had their arms around each other, pawing and clenching at their clothes or skin.

            Ravage gently pushed Halu’s chest, indicating that he wanted to lay them on the grass. They complied with his wishes. Halu broke the kiss and started to kiss his throat. He groaned softly. Then he used his tongue to lick the human’s neck, causing them to gasp in surprise. Ravage grinned wickedly at their reaction. His made the tongue go further down their body, sliding it underneath their shirt collar. Halu blushed red, softly moaning as they felt his tongue touch their skin. They had their arms around his neck, holding onto their lover like he was the only solid thing there. Ravage had his hands on their hips, gingerly rubbing them. They could also feel string like appendages slither about their body.

            “R-Ravage,” Halu gasped out. He slowly retracted his tongue, causing them to moan. The creature licked his lips. “You taste divine,” he panted. They blushed even harder by his statement. He then grinned till his red gums were showing. “But I want more.” Suddenly Ravage untied their bow and unbuttoned their shirt collar. In one fell swoop, he bit into Halu’s neck. They screamed in pure bliss, nails digging into the symbiote’s skin. He eventually removed his fangs, licking the wound. The Arabian was gasping for air at this point, eyes half opened. Ravage was panting as well, making small puffs of steam as he exhaled. He rested his forehead on Halu’s, eyes soft.

           “I love you Halu.”

            They grinned as they let out a shaky breath. They put their hands on Ravage’s cheeks, who in turned touched one of Halu’s hands. They started to nuzzle each other, both enjoying this rare time of being truly alone together.

           “I love you too Ravage.”

All Characters (c) Me Venom (c) Marvel/Sony

[my-fucking-noodles]

Shifty

I have no control of my life so here, have a crack fic. (Dean x reader)

Summary: reader gets taken by a shapeshifter, it assumes her place with the Winchester's. Copious amounts of sass ensues.

Just interview the guy they said, He probably knows something. Well, the two Winchesters were right about that, but he turned out to be the damn beast you guys had been hunting down. You had started asking questions about the missing people in town, and took notice of how the guy's demeanor had changed drastically. He had gone from a nice forward guy to shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

You had asked him if he was alright, but you soon found yourself being struck over the head with a blunt object and being tied up before falling unconscious. When you woke up you were in what seemed like an abandoned industrial building, the sound of a heavy metal door opening and chains falling to the ground caught your attention. Turning your head to the sound, you saw yourself walk in, a snarky smirk plastered to your lips.

You struggled against your bindings, trying your damnedest to get your hands freed, your attempts only rubbing your wrists raw. The shapeshifter laughed at your angered attempts at freedom, walking closer to you. "Looks like little ol' hunter got herself stuck. You've got some interesting memories in here." The shapeshifter harshly poked your head as it finished its sentence. Great, it has your snark too.

"I know I'm beautiful, but that's no reason to try an' take my life ya know." When in doubt, sass back, right? It gave a breathy laugh as it looked at you in what could've been passed as pitty. "Oh hun, you know I gotta try and get you n' your huntin' buddies off my tail? So a few people go missing, at least I'm not one of those vampires you hate so much, right? Or a demon, those fuckers are ruthless."

It seems to have already gone through your memories, peachy. "So, I'm gonna convince your lover boy and his brother that I skipped town. See ya later (y/n), don't go anywhere now." All you could really do was glare at your own back as the shapeshifter closed the door and locked it with chains. Welp... If Dean and Sam don't pick up that that thing isn't you, when you get out you're gonna smack em.

----------------------

The door to the hotel opened, Sam looking up from some files and a map, and Dean from the laptop, both greeting the shapeshifter as you came in. "So (Y/n/n), you get anything outta the guy?" Dean had asked as he dropped his head back to the screen. "Not anything useful. Did you guys get anything?" You had walked over to your's and Dean's shared bed, and dropped your weight on it.

"Well, we found a guy that thinks the shifter's an alien. He'd actually done a great job of tracking it down, even narrowed down a few industrial buildings it could be hiding in." Sam informed, looking up at you. "And did you tell him it was a shapeshifter and not aliens? Or did you guys tell him he was crazy?" The shifter had apparently done a good job of hiding its panic because Sam hadn't called it out on it, Dean had chuckled a bit before saying something. "Actually, we told the guy that we needed all his work as evidence and that we'd get back to him on the matter. You shoulda seen how pissed he was!"

The shifter had let out an amused laugh, "Aw man, wish I could've seen it. The guy I questioned was so damn boring, the guy had a stamp collection. What was the alien guy's name?" The two brothers had laughed, followed by Sam telling the shifter that the guy's name was Levi Cox. After a little more of the three talking about the case the shifter decided to make the excuse that it was hungry, after the brothers told it what they wanted to eat it had left the hotel.

The shapeshifter knew who Levi was, and hadn't planned on him knowing as much as he did, so it did the only thing it could think of. Kill Levi and relocate its host, you. It made Levi's death look more like a suicide than a murder, it quickly made its way to you and unlocked the door to be met with you belting out the chorus to Wanted Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi.

"AN' I PLAY FOR KEEPS! Cause I MIGHT NOT MAKE IT BACK! BEEN EVERYWHAAARE, still, I'M STANDING TALL!! I'M WANTED!! Waaaaanteeeed! DEAD OR ALIIIIIIIIVE!! Dead OR ALIII- Oh hey there buddy! It's really boring here. Bring home any food? Or did you come to tell me that Deano and his snarky comments are worse than mine are? Ooo! Or did Sasquatch put my stuff outta reach?"

It gave a hefty sigh as it walked through the room and over to you. "You really don't care that I spent all evening with your little crush? Oh, and they found a guy who had been keeping detailed tabs on me, so I killed him, made it look like he offed himself. But now, I gotta move you somewhere else, my usual buildings won't do now." Before you could say anything the shifter had you unconscious and on the move.

------------------------------

It'd been three more days, you'd been locked in a basement somewhere and given shitty food and a single bottle of water. You'd surrendered yourself to humming random songs and plotting revenge pranks on the Winchesters for not noticing that 'you' wasn't actually you. You'd gotten very restless lately though, you'd found that random bursts of yelling would help you with that. "THIS FUCKING SUCKS!! UNTIE ME AND FIGHT ME LIKE THE DAMN MONSTER YOU ARE, DAMMIT!!" ..... Nothing but silence followed.

Meanwhile, Dean had caught on to the shifter's irritability, at first thinking it was just because you wanted the case over and done with. But when he made the joke about you wanting to just gank the ugly monster and he was met with a glare and not a snarky comment, he figured out it probably wasn't actually you. You always showed some kind of enjoyment in killin a baddie.

The Winchesters had formed a plan, cornered the shifter, and proved that it wasn't actually you, but they hadn't gotten your location out of the damned thing. Dean was starting to get antsy, thoughts of you injured and bleeding out somewhere getting him worried. The shifter had let out a breathy laugh as Dean threatened to slowly dismember it. "I'll just grow em back, and maybe I'll just shed and reform as you Deano, oh wait even better. Did you know (y/n) has an ex she's kept a secret? He's quite a doll, she only left him because she started hunting with you two."

Dean was now wanting to cut its tongue out to stop it from talking any further, but he did what he thought was better. Just gank it already. "Fuck this, we're not gettin anything out of this damned thing I'll find her myself if we gotta!" He exclaimed, raising his pistol at the shapeshifter's head. Sam stepped towards Dean. "Dean, wai-" He couldn't finish his sentence as he was cut off by the firing of the silver bullet. Dean turned towards Sam, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner "Sorry, what were you sayin Sammy?" Sam just sighed.

"There's dirt on the shifter's shoes, I figure (Y/n) is out in a barn. Not that many in a town like this... Don't gimme that look, it was pissin me off, alright?" Dean had defended himself against Sam's bitch glare. "Well, it wouldn't have gotten you mad if you didn't like (Y/n) as much as you do." Sam had started his teasing. Dean had rolled his eyes and started making his way to Baby. "You keep making jokes and I'm gonna play nothin but Heat of The Moment for a week straight." Needless to say, Sam had fallen silent and followed Dean.

----------

You were quietly singing Love hurts, but hearing a door being kicked open you had stopped. Instead, you decided to yell at the noise above you, like a normal, sane person. "Bring any good food? Or is it just your shitty personality again, ya ugly fuck?!" When you heard a low, gruff laugh and an "Oh my god, seriously?" you realized the boys had finally found you. Heavy steps down the stairs having you turn your head to the side. "Oh good, the dweebs finally realized it wasn't me!"

The both of them had sighed, actually feeling a little bad for not noticing sooner. "At least we DID notice. If it hadn't been so grouchy you'd still be sittin here Sweetheart." Dean had said as he cut the ropes binding your hands.

[midnightiscoming-kasabian]

*Noel [Gallagher Fielding]

DIY Magazine, August 2017

Kasabian: Forever having the last laugh

Much loved and misunderstood in equal measures, Kasabian are still the band your mother warned you about. 

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Back in 1998, when Tom Meighan was 17 years old, he stepped out onto the stage of The Shed in Leicester in front of a group of friends and family and began Kasabian’s first ever gig as though he were headlining Glastonbury. “I remember hiding behind the stairs and then appearing like it was some fucking [arena]. That’s the level my head was at then,” he recalls. “It was all our mates in the crowd, so everyone’s gonna tell you you’re good. But we knew we were good anyway. We knew we had something special.” Fast forward 16 years and four Number One records later to 2014, and Kasabian were headlining Glastonbury for real. This month, now with yet another Number One (current LP ‘For Crying Out Loud’) to add to the tally, they’ll headline Reading & Leeds for the second time. Tonight, they’re headlining Glasgow’s TRNSMT to 50,000 people. Taking top billing alongside Radiohead and hometown heroes Biffy Clyro, theirs is the only day to sell out.

Undeniably, Kasabian are one of the biggest bands in the country, sitting in a top tier cohabited by the likes of Arctic Monkeys, Muse and very few else. It’s a mountain they’ve scaled while being hit with endless criticisms along the way – for their lyrics, their ethos, their entire ‘schtick’; surely no other band of their stature has received such a media mauling as Tom, co-conspirator Serge Pizzorno and bandmates Chris Edwards and Ian Matthews. But through it all, Kasabian have always had two indisputable weapons in their arsenal: a world class live show capable of silencing even the most po-faced of doubters, and a twinkle of the eye that suggests they’re forever having twenty times more fun than any grumbling muso slagging them off. “We’re a big band. We sell albums. People don’t like it, that’s the way it is,” intones Tom, plainly. “We’ve never been arse-licked; we’ve grafted, me and Serge, to where we’ve got. Everyone hated us when we came out and we’re still here. I don’t regret any of [our choices]. It’s all tongue in cheek, you know? That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

Our whirlwind 36 hours within the Kasabian machine begins the night before at Glasgow’s O2 Academy. The band have hired out the venue for a final rehearsal and, despite their flights from Estonia being cancelled the night before, meaning a time-consuming re-routing and a police escort to get them on a train to the city, they’re trucking on regardless. Flight cases emblazoned with the group’s logo fill up the venue and two delivery drivers bearing stacks of pizza boxes higher than their heads arrive to fuel the touring party; when the band appear just before 9pm, Serge recalls how he was bottled the last time they played here, requiring six stitches and leaving bloodied hand prints down the dressing room corridor walls. It’s fair to say that almost everything in Kasabian’s orbit is bigger and madder and more quote-worthy than normal life.

Their reasons for tonight’s additional run through, however, are impressively un-starry. Kasabian don’t like to go into a gig cold - “We’re trying to get this collective mass of people and take them somewhere, but if we have three or four days off, I feel like it takes half a set to get there,” explains Serge. “Whereas now I think, well, we were here last night so we just carry on” - and so for two hours, on the eve of one of their summer’s biggest shows, they play some of this decade’s most hedonistic hits to a handful of non-plussed roadies in an empty room. There’s possibly none more fitting a picture of Kasabian’s strange dichotomy – excessive and purposefully ridiculous yet grounded and down to earth – than watching them blast through a live karaoke version of ultimate sesh anthem ‘Fire’ (Tom’s ducked out by this point) to precisely no-one.“The thing is though, we really care,” enthuses Serge the next day, red roses stitched onto his tracksuit as he lounges with a cup of tea back in the band’s country house hotel. “There’s a responsibility when you’re at the top of the bill to end the night on a massive fucking high, and we’ve built a reputation for that. Anyone who’s indifferent to us and doesn’t get it, misses the jokes and misses the point, they see it live and at the end of the gig they understand. It’s really important to us that people go away thinking…” He pauses. “Well, we try and change your life.”While Tom bats away any mention of the band’s detractors with the dismissive attitude of a man who genuinely doesn’t give a shit (“Nah. Done it. Can’t do anything else. Headlined Glastonbury; got six albums; probably do another 10 more. That’s how it is”), Serge is more frustrated by people’s frequent misconceptions of his band. It’s indicative of the yin-yang personality types at the heart of the duo.

In conversation, Tom is gregarious and hyperactive, with the attention span of a six-year-old on Christmas Day. He says exactly what he thinks and is already distracted by the next thing before you’ve even processed the answer. Serge, meanwhile, is a generous conversationalist, ruminating in depth on any topic he’s given. On stage, Tom, says his bandmate, has been “exactly the same from day one. He was quite a powerful character [even] at school; he’d walk into the year area and you could tell his presence.” Serge, however, has only more recently come to embrace the thrill of the stage. “I didn’t feel the need to be Freddie Mercury - that compulsion some people have to perform,” he explains. “But there was a moment when I realised I can just fuck about. I think about what I can get away with to make the other lads laugh in front of all these people. It’s ridiculous standing on stage, so you should embrace it.” But while Tom and Serge might come from different angles, both have always been united in the pursuit of fun and playfulness, of keeping things just that little bit silly. During the campaign for 2014 LP ‘48:13’, they performed backed by a series of flashing slogans including ‘Free Deirdre’ and ‘Maggot Munch’. When they headlined Glastonbury, their only ‘special guest’ was pal Noel Fielding dressed as a cartoon vampire. Joyously irreverent, theirs is a humour entrenched as much in a Young Ones-esque tradition of eccentric British comedy as one of boisterous British bands. That’s the bit that so many people seem to struggle with. “One of the most frustrating things is when people miss the humour. There’s so much piss taking in everything we do,” begins Serge. “We’re in on the joke, that’s the thing that people don’t seem to understand.” The oft-quoted stereotype, we suggest, is of Kasabian as a kind of real life Spinal Tap, dialling up the rock’n’roll cliché to 11… “It’s that middle class, apologetic, broadsheet opinion,” he replies, getting slightly rattled by the thought. “Kings of Leon: that’s Spinal Tap. Kanye getting stuck on a fucking digger truck at Glastonbury: that’s Spinal Tap. I mean, hearing Kanye singing Freddie Mercury out of tune at Glastonbury is as Spinal Tap as anything anyone else has ever done, so… it’s rich, is what I’m saying. The parody and the ridiculousness of being in a band is all nonsense. It doesn’t matter what kind of band you’re in; it’s all nonsense.”

Back in the early days, around 2004’s self-titled debut, Serge admits that Kasabian embraced all the “nonsense” rather a lot more. “We didn’t think it was gonna last longer than one album, so we decided that we were gonna experience everything we could,” he grins, with the look of a man who’s seen a few detention slips in his time. “We’d turn up to festivals and just fucking go through people. Run in dressing rooms, off our fucking heads – honestly, we were so fucked. No-one liked us. We were just fucking horrible little shits, which was perfect. I love The Stooges and those kinds of bands… We wanted everyone to fucking hate us. It was great. It’s all part of the show.” If social media had existed back then, he notes, “it would have been disgusting”. Now, both Tom and Serge are fathers and in their mid-30s. Five albums after releasing the debut they thought would be their only record, they’ve settled into a space surprisingly far down the other end of the rockstar bullshit spectrum. Say what you want about the on-stage swagger and lairy bangers, but underneath it all Kasabian have kept remarkably grounded. “That’s the thing, we’re just not fucking like that. We live in Leicester with all our families and all our pals and that’s because we saw through the fakeness from day one,” Serge shrugs. “You could reel off the people who’ve turned into dicks and that’s fucked them, but that’s just not us. We saw through it. How can I write music for the people that I relate to if I’m not around them? 50,000 people aren’t gonna relate if I stand around with a load of supermodels opening envelopes. No one gives a fuck about that guy.”

Cut to later that evening and 50,000 people are most certainly giving all the fucks. Having spent the hour before stage time blasting out Beatles songs and milling among a small and unanimously entertaining group of pals including Trainspotting legend Robert Carlyle and a perma-sunglasses wearing old friend only known as The Turtle, Kasabian take to the TRNSMT stage to a deafening roar. “It’s about anticipation, it’s like a boxing match,” notes Tom about the build up to stage time. “We’re like monkeys in a cage, and it’s my job to rattle the cage. I go from Clark Kent to Superman. BANG - like that.” The set, as always, is huge and cathartic and powerful; a 90-minute, all-consuming escape from reality that has the entire field uniformly losing their minds in unison. To paraphrase Serge’s own words previously, even if you don’t get it before, by the end of the gig you’ll understand.Off stage, enjoying a post-show beverage or two, we notice that Serge is wearing not one, but three identical gold Casio watches up his arm. The theory, he explains with that twinkle in his eye, is that casually observed on stage, they’ll look like a standard bit of bling. “But then when you look closer…” he chuckles, with a wink. It’s exactly the kind of weird and wonderful thought process that characterises the songwriter and his band of childhood pals. Some people will scoff and chalk it up as another example of the band’s rockstar buffoonery, but Kasabian have always known it’s far more fun, having a laugh down here with the people. “I genuinely just think life’s too short,” smiles Serge. “The odds of any of this happening. I mean, just to be born in this country alone, you’re already dreaming - then to have the life I’ve had. So I figure, I’ve been given this, and I can’t explain why, but man, I’m going out in a blaze of glory. And I figure if I worry and hide, then what a waste. I’m gonna have the fucking time of my life on that stage. I’m gonna have it so big. And maybe that’s what people see in us? Like, you know what? They’re living it.” 

[ohjohnno]

Outrageous Fortune Reviewcap: S1E04 (”The Cause Of This Defect”)

This isn’t quite a bottle episode - it does feature a couple of new characters, and there are a couple of moments on new sets - but in a lot of ways it does feel like one. It’s weirdly plotless, for one thing; aside from the cold open, the entire thing takes place over a period of about, at most, five hours, and as a result it’s very slow paced. That allows for a deeper exploration of more characters than usual, and the result is one of the most complex, affecting, and engaging episodes the show ever did.

The “plot”, or rather plot substitute, is a funeral and its immediate aftermath. In the cold open, we meet this guy: 

That’s Billy Grady West, and we don’t know him long. He dies a sad death by misadventure while fleeing a cop, making the mistake of hiding in a dustbin on the day the binmen come round. Over the course of the episode, we learn that he was Eric’s son, but also that he was really a West, to the point where he’d changed his name to reflect his feelings. Now, one could argue that we maybe should have been introduced to him in an earlier episode - it’s a bit weird that we’ve passed without mention of this guy so far, after all - but I don’t mind; he’s really more a plot device than a character, and that’s as it should be. The most important thing about him is that his death gives the writers an excuse to take Wolf out of prison for a day, thus setting off a chain of events that teaches us a bit more about just about every character.

It’s gonna be difficult to split this up into individual character-plot analysis like I usually do, so this is gonna be a little bit more like a traditional recap. So much of import is happening in just about every second of this episode that I’d feel worried about missing something if I didn’t. So, once we’re past the cold open and the opening credits, we jump right into the action with the Wests.

Right away, we learn several things. First, that Van - judging by the wall he punches - was very fond of Billy; secondly, that Loretta is, judging by her facial expression, a little bothered by still being what Pascalle calls “the oldest virgin in West Auckland”; and thirdly, that neither Cheryl nor Jethro are particularly looking forward to Wolf’s impending appearance at Billy’s service, even though he’ll be under guard. Eric appears, and it’s unclear whether his reticence to attend his son’s service is inability to face up to grief or just a lack of it. Then we’re at the service.

Jethro’s giving a speech over Billy’s grave, and you can tell instantly that he didn’t like him; he’s awkwardly stumbling over euphemisms about his skills and talents, treating him like an embarrassing fuckup whose funeral he is attending only out of obligation. But Wolf shows up in the middle of it, and their brief interaction is fraught with significance. 

He embraces Pascalle and Eric (as Cheryl looks on in disgust), but steps up to Jethro as if he barely knows him, standing there with an abrasive “thanks, mate” and staring him down with the full force of fatherly authority until he moves, clearly seething with long-brewed resentment that surely grows a little more potent right in that moment, as he’s forced once more to put a lid on it and bottle it up, making way for the indomitable force of his father’s self-assured machismo. Wolf, for his part, then delivers a wonderfully engaging, emotionally resonant speech (mostly about a digger Billy once commandeered) that captures the audience’s hearts, driving Jethro even more round the bend. “Only he could turn a bloody tragedy into the big day out,” he seethes to Cheryl, who isn’t any happier with the situation. Her mood isn’t improved by their lawyer, Corky, demanding money up-front for the appeal. They leave him in the dust.

Back at the house now, and Jethro’s rage has subsumed into a piercingly smug contempt. He mocks Billy to Van’s face while preparing meat on the “barbie”, and he doesn’t mince words: “A p-head screwup. If he hadn’t gone now, he would have gone next week, next year...” Van doesn’t like that at all, and that seems to give Jethro all the motivation he needs to keep pushing, seemingly itching to start a fight. Their brewing confrontation is interrupted by Cheryl, but it’s clear there’s something going on here that goes far deeper than Jethro’s dislike for Billy. Indeed, it’s pretty clear that this isn’t about Van, either, who did nothing whatsoever to provoke Jethro’s barrage of needles. This is a resentment that goes all the way to the top.

Wolf’s prison guard allows him a visit to the house, too, and Cheryl still isn’t pleased to see him. Loretta is, though, and he’s not the only one she’s pleased to see.

Wolf politely introduces her to Paul, his young, attractive prison guard. Loretta, well... look at that face. The “oldest virgin in West Auckland”, indeed, but far from an unfeeling robot. 

Cheryl burns her hand on a tray of sausage rolls, and runs to the bathroom for cold water; Wolf follows her, and they have brief, very confused, and very passionate sex. Loretta, meanwhile, does her best to hit on Paul, and it’s absolutely hilarious in the way that only awkward, antisocial nerd attempts at hitting on people can be. Her attempt is a nervous, motormouthed pile of obscure film references and weirdly sexual insults, the sort of thing that’s usually presented the other way around, gender-wise; it’s really quite rare to see the traditional gender roles get swapped like this, and it’s all the funnier for it. Poor Paul has no idea what to do, and it’s clear his torment isn’t gonna end anytime soon; Loretta asks him if he likes movies, and what’s anyone supposed to say to that?

Jethro, unable to piss in the toilet Van’s moping in, accidentally interrupts his parents; this unceremoniously ends their tryst, and things are immediately back to normal. Wolf, once more, demonstrates himself unable to understand what, exactly, it is that is making Cheryl so angry about the Allen situation; Cheryl, by now, has little to no interest in enlightening him. So she leaves, telling him to “fuck off back to prison”, leaving Wolf fuming in the bathroom. He sees Paul and Loretta going back to the latter’s room (for a “movie”), and it’s instantly apparent that he knows exactly what’s happening. Still, he lets it pass without comment, or at least without explicit comment; something tells me Paul might’ve been able to read between the lines when he said “I’m not going anywhere.”

Loretta continues to be her awkward self; “I’m gonna be a film director,” she proclaims while showing Paul her collection, and she keeps insulting him. He’s not bothered, but he thinks it’s funny, and he tells her so; “You don’t hold back, do you?” Loretta is suddenly very awkward indeed; “Do you think that’s... not attractive?”

In prior episodes, we’ve caught sight of the vindictive and manipulative sides of Loretta; here, we get an extremely important, timely reminder that she’s a fifteen year old girl, and that it’s absolutely essential to take that fact into account when evaluating her actions. She asks him, hesitantly and nervously, if he wants to have sex with her; he (rather shockingly) agrees, and that terrifies her. But after a moment’s frozen, deer-in-headlights terror, she gets up and closes the door anyway.

Down in the garden, Wolf has, once again, stolen Jethro’s thunder; he’s manning the barbie now, and asks Jethro if he wants a sausage. “No thanks,” says Jethro bitterly, skulking back into the house as Wolf tries to call in enough favors to convince Corky to represent him pro bono. It’s unclear whether it’s working, and Van overhears enough of it to get a little nervous. As Paul kisses Loretta - giving her what looks like a huge overload of very strong, conflicting emotions - Jethro and Cheryl commiserate in the kitchen, only for Jethro to seem to get a little mad at her for not being mad enough at Wolf. Ted wanders in, confused as usual, mentioning his late wife Rita as Pascalle consoles Eric, who seems unusually interested in the details of his late son’s sex life.

It’s not clear whether Pascalle “rooted” him before or after he changed his last name to West, not that I suppose that matters; it wasn’t like he was a blood relative, after all. Eric suggests that it was “one of the highlights, I think, of his whole life”, displaying a truly remarkable ability to perv on women in literally any conceivable circumstance; cut, hilariously, to to Loretta and Paul, lounging in bed, their facial expressions telling the whole story.

Paul, to his credit, seems upset that Loretta didn’t enjoy it, and immediately tries to make amends by, as the Jamaicans say, going bowcat. Meanwhile, Wolf and Van have a heart-to-heart in the garden; Van, it transpires, blames himself for what happened to Billy, mentioning that he didn’t join him on his criminal scheme this time because he knew Cheryl wouldn’t approve. Wolf isn’t having that. “You are a good man, with a lot on his plate,” he insists, and then something equal parts fascinating and horrible escapes his mouth: “Trying to listen to your mother and do the right thing by the family!”

It’s one short sentence that says volumes about his mentality. On the one hand, he truly does deeply, profoundly love and care about Van, and is genuinely speaking from deep within his heart as he does his best to try and comfort him. But it reveals a lot about what, exactly, is in that heart. He does, it seems, believe that a son should pay attention to the words of his mother, but the way he phrases it suggests that he really only believes this out of a sense of traditional moral obligation; he doesn’t really believe, or even countenance for a second, the notion that Cheryl could maybe have a point, the idea that her opinion is of equal value to his. Instead, he frames her decisions as a tragedy, the rock opposite the hard place that is “do[ing] the right thing by the family”, an obstacle that Van will have to overcome if he is to live up to the duties Wolf wants of him with the family. It’s advice delivered with pure intention from a deeply impure heart, and it may, alas, be just about the worst advice Van could get right now.

Elsewhere, Pascalle and Eric have been joined by Draska Doslic, a girl from a nearby Croatian family who initially appeared in episode two, but who was inconsequential enough there that I forgot to mention her. She’s Pascalle’s on-again, off-again friend, and it turns out both she and another mutual friend also, in fact, “rooted” the late Billy, much to Eric’s shock. They admit it was a “pity root”, motivated by Billy’s sad life and broken home; Eric immediately starts droning on about his sadness and guilt, about as transparent as a man can humanly get. It’s hilarious, but it’s also kinda sad in itself, y’know? Billy was raised - in theory, anyway - by a perverted, drunken criminal in an environment almost entirely filled with drunks and criminals; of course he was gonna turn out a fuckup. That cycle isn’t gonna be broken anytime soon, not if these surroundings are anything to go by.

Draska immediately perks up when Van walks in; Van barely notices, fresh off his conversation with Wolf, and accordingly starts a fight with Cheryl, drunkenly accusing her of betraying him while throwing some highly smashable stuff around. See what I meant about bad advice? Wolf has yet to learn that Van takes everything in the most simplistic, literal possible terms, and doesn’t have any sort of capacity for subtlety. If you tell him that what Cheryl’s doing is the opposite of “the right thing by the family”, how d’you expect him to react? The boy just about worships his father; the fact that he’s making him choose between him and Cheryl is cruel for both of them. 

Loretta, as it turned out, did not like Paul going bowcat, and is particularly grossed out when she learns of the blood that accompanied the loss of her virginity. The whole thing seems to have made her very uncomfortable, and Paul isn’t really reading the signs very well. He’s clearly enjoying himself a lot more than she is, so he has much more motivation to keep going than she does. She’s so not enjoying it, in fact, that she’s genuinely astonished to learn that he’s willing to go again. Still, she doesn’t kick him out.

Elsewhere, Cheryl’s friend Rochelle shows up. She’ll be pretty important eventually, although that’ll take a while. She showers enthusiastic affection upon both Wolf and Eric, the latter of whom is particularly pleased. Pascalle comes out, and Wolf gives her genuine and heartfelt encouragement to pursue her modelling career; it’s a lovely thing to do, especially given Cheryl’s constant haranguing of her for it, no matter how understandable. Wolf is in such a good mood, in fact, that he starts dancing with Cheryl, who can’t keep a big grin off her face. That’s Wolf’s thing, see: he’s very charismatic indeed, and his love for his family is so genuine as to be difficult to deny. One can almost see the twenty years of beautiful memories replaying in Cheryl’s head as they dance, erasing these horrible last few months and taking her back to paradise. It’s a rare portrait of the deep love that once existed between them that we mostly missed out on in this show. It’s heartwarming and heartbreaking at once, a snapshot of a rosier past and an alternate present where everything is much happier. But, alas, it’s - how did Lorde say it? - just a supercut.

Loretta and Paul are just talking now. For a moment, it seems that Loretta has regained her confidence; she messes with him, briefly making up and retracting a story about parental abuse just to see the look on his face, and complains about how much she disliked Billy even when he was a small child. But Paul sees through it, and gently pokes her; “so you do have feelings”, he says, and her reaction is really quite fascinating. Immediately, her confidence goes away; she bundles herself up, wrapping her legs up in her arms, frowns and tremulously denies it. “Nah,” she says, “not many, if any.” 

That is an important moment; it may, in character terms, be the most important moment in the episode. Loretta is a child who doesn’t fit in; she’s not like her sexy, popular sister, or her jocky, popular brother, and she feels alienated from just about everyone else in her age group. And she is, we know, a person with great capacity for doing terrible things, whose reputation on that front precedes her. And she takes refuge in that latter trait, throwing it up as her shield against a world that rejects and cruelly mocks her, throwing that cruelty back in its face in the form of searing witticisms and cruel schemes. But it’s not that she can’t feel; if anything, her feelings are very strong indeed, and at her core is a tender, fragile girl whose soul is all fractured from the neverending ache of loneliness. Maybe her actions in episode two really were jealousy; maybe that kinda abusive, controlling friendship she has with Kurt really is all she has, thus motivating her to do anything to protect the totality of her hold over him. Without him, she’d be alone with the feelings she wishes she didn’t have, having to confront her own normality.

Van, down in the garden, is not enjoying the sight of his parents dancing nearly as much as everyone else. “Your parents are so cool,” says Draska, but Van’s mind is clearly on the fragility of it all, and so off he goes, grabbing his balaclava.

He encounters Jethro on the way out, doing a very bad job of lying to him about what he’s gonna do. Jethro follows him, encountering and mostly ignoring Allen (from the last episode) on the way out. Allen walks with great purpose through the house, finds Eric, and punches him, thinking he was the one who snitched on him last episode. Wolf gently takes him aside and calmly explains to him that he was the one who snitched on him, and what follows is a fascinating demonstration of the dynamics of macho honor.

They don’t fight, that’s for sure; they converse like equals who respect one another, even though the topic of their conversation is Allen’s admitted attempts to pull Wolf’s wife. “Jesus Christ, Allen, you didn’t give me a choice!” says Wolf, and it’s fascinating that he doesn’t once suggest to Allen that maybe he might have been in the wrong to try and sleep with a married woman. Rather, he seems to view this as natural and expected, and frames his own actions as a necessary evil to protect the one he loves. He doesn’t give Cheryl any agency in this, either; she’s just the object being fought over, and Wolf seems to believe that Allen “spending every day with [her], giving her money” would have been enough to break her loyalty. But he doesn’t even think of breaking off his friendship with Allen; instead, he apologizes for what he had to do and promises to make it up to him. This episode is the last we ever see of Allen - I presume he went to prison shortly after this - but I’ve no doubt Wolf would have kept his promise if able. It’s a fascinating thing, that macho honor system, and a resilient one - but it’s not a good one. 

We get a timeskip; it’s nighttime now, and Van is trying to rob a closed gas station in order to get money for Wolf’s appeal. Jethro has followed him, and gently reminds him that lawyers generally charge a little more than gas stations tend to keep within their premises. Van goes off to rob somewhere else, leaving Jethro sighing. Meanwhile, Eric is making the most of the sympathy he’s getting from Rochelle while Wolf and Cheryl talk. 

Wolf lays out an ultimatum. If Cheryl still loves him, he’ll go back to prison and faithfully serve the remainder of his time, for the sake of the children; if she doesn’t, he’ll make his escape right now. Cheryl says “when you’re here, it’s like you never left”; Wolf smiles and takes that as an expression of love, but Cheryl’s face afterwards indicates that it was far more complicated a statement than that. 

Maybe Cheryl does love him, but she’s also very much aware of what impact Wolf escaping would have on her kids and their lives. With that to look up to, what would become of her experiment? What would happen to her kids’ lives? And on the other hand, does she really want things to go back to how they were before Wolf left? Sure, it feels good, but where does it all lead?

Pascalle and Draska share a confession. “I didn’t really wanna root Billy”, says Draska; “Me neither,” affirms Pascalle. Draska did it to make Van jealous, and while we never find out why Pascalle did it, one presumes she had her reasons. Considered in context with Loretta’s escapades this episode, and this episode presents a fascinating critique of the way society pressures women into having sex for all sorts of reasons except them actually wanting to have sex, thus ultimately satisfying only the men at their expense. Pascalle and Draska finish up by, as The Onion once said, validating the living shit out of each other while Wolf shoos Cheryl away so he can talk about “plans” with Allen. Cheryl steps away and looks over the party, clearly having something of a moment of clarity as a psychedelic guitar solo plays from the stereo in the background. Wolf loves her enough to tell her that he does; he doesn’t love her enough to trust her with any real knowledge about the things he does. 

Elsewhere, Van is breaking into a drugstore, on the same idea as before. Jethro follows him, again pointing out that this makes little sense. They’re interrupted by a kid who seems to be sleeping there, who chases them out with threats to call the cops.

                                            White trash bastards!

Van twists some stuff round to blame Jethro for Wolf’s predicament, still following the lines Wolf himself laid out for him in their conversation earlier: that this is all because of Cheryl and her crackpot scheme to go straight, and that Jethro is aiding and abetting her by being a “mummy’s boy”. Jethro objects a little too strenuously to this characterization, and essentially flips it back on him, accusing him of wanting to be Wolf. He’s probably more right; Cheryl doesn’t realise how different Jethro is from her, but neither Van nor Wolf realise Van isn’t cut out to be Wolf 2.0. Only Jethro realises that. He cautions Van against following this path, lest he end up a “dead loser like Billy”; they fight (kinda) and Jethro, being the less drunk of the two, wins. Jethro leaves; Van turns round and sees a digger.

Jethro returns home, and he and Wolf have their first real conversation of the entire show. It might be the most hostile interaction between any two characters so far, too, and that includes that one scene in episode two where a woman was beating her nephew. There’s mutually flowing resentment here, both tied to things bigger than the men themselves. Wolf has some sort of class resentment tied up in the way his son has decided to live his life; “Mister I work in town, I wear a suit”, he mocks, bemoaning all the potential wasted when they decided to send him to the “uni-var-sity” instead of drawing him into the family business. Jethro isn’t as explicit about the reasons for his resentment, but he doesn’t need to be; it’s clear as day, and has been from the moment Wolf stepped up to him at the service. Jethro has a complex about his father, feeling at once intimidated and abandoned by him, clearly craving the love and affection he shows the other kids while idolizing his macho self-assuredness and self-control, and channeling his resentment at his lack of that into a general hatred of Wolf, the things Wolf does, and people who remind him of Wolf. He certainly didn’t have Van’s best interests in mind when he told him to be his own man and stop imitating his father; no, he was just bitter, aiming squarely where it would hurt, fighting a substitute for Wolf because he knew that was the closest he could get to beating him. “Oh, thank god Mum doesn’t buy your shit,” he snarls, but it’s clear from his actions in the previous episode that Cheryl is just an ally of convenience to him, herself not realising that she and Jethro are united only in their shared distaste for Wolf and not in any of the reasons.

Loretta and Paul are at it again; Loretta seems to be enjoying it, but quickly reveals (much to Paul’s chagrin) that it was just an act. She’s gotten bored enough now that she’s back to her usual ways, getting most of her pleasure from messing with him; when she finally tells him she’s fifteen, his shock gives her the first real smile of the night. Not that this excuses him, natch - he really should have known, and I think on some level probably did, but that didn’t stop him. He’s entirely in the wrong here, both legally and otherwise - but there’s no denying the joy she takes in making him panic. Which is the story of her life, really, so far as we’re able to tell from these four episodes - she doesn’t have a lot of joy in her life, but she takes what she can get in making other people suffer.

Wolf and Cheryl have their final conversation of the night. They share jokes and laugh at their friends, like any happily married couple. But their differences are still there, and irreconcilable. “There are no prizes for suffering, love,” says Wolf. “Nobody thanks you for it.” It’s a great, great quote, applicable to many situations and, in itself, entirely correct - but hot on its heels comes a quote arguably even more important: “I’m not gonna change, love.”

Cheryl knows he’s right, of course. But Wolf has to go before the conversation can finish. He says his goodbyes, and after he’s gone Loretta allows herself a moment of gloating to Pascalle; “You’re still a slut, but I’m no longer a virgin,” she says, before proclaiming that she’s never gonna do it again. And who can blame her? As far as I can tell, that was awful. Bad sex isn’t depicted too often on television, or if it is it’s usually the butt of very immature comedies. Here, it’s treated maturely and seriously, as an important character moment and a rare possibly-realistic depiction of the embarrassing awkwardness of teenage girldom. Hats off to the writers for this one.

Paul lets the ever-well-behaved Wolf sit in the front seat of the prison van on the way back, secure in his knowledge that he’s not gonna try and escape. Or at least that’s what he thinks before a giant digger, piloted by an ecstatically drunk Van, blocks the road ahead. Van gets out, caterwauling about an escape attempt; Paul reaches for his radio to call for backup, but Wolf assures him that he’ll handle it.

He tells Van much the same thing he’s been telling him already: “Go home and look after your mother for me, okay?” For once, it might be good advice. He gets back in the prison van; it drives off, leaving Van confused and dejected in the middle of the road. 

Our final scene is Cheryl mostly-monologuing to Jethro, vocalising most of the things we’ve been able to figure she was thinking towards the end of the episode: she truly does love Wolf, and probably always will, but needs him to stay in prison if they’re to continue making a good life for themselves. “It’s like when you turn the lights on in a room full of mess,” she says; “you’ve seen it, and it’s too late.” It hurts her, but it’s good to see her making the right decision. She’s not gonna go forward with the appeal; despite everything, she’s gonna let him rot in prison. Jethro, naturally, seems perfectly happy with this decision. Alas, for all her clarity on Wolf, Cheryl is still blinkered on him; she doesn’t realise just what he is, or the reasons he feels what he feels. But for now, he’s being a good mummy’s boy, listening to her talk about feelings and getting her drinks. And so the family’s life goes on, same as before; the difference is, as Cheryl said, that the lights have been turned on now and we’ve seen a whole lot about many of these characters that can’t be unseen. There’s a depth and complexity of character here that’s rare to find in any fiction, and I cherish it very much. This is an episode without a wasted moment, where every scene is just as important as the last. It’s as good as TV writing gets, if you ask me, and it’s one of my favorite episodes of anything ever. But it’s still early days yet, and the show will cover a lot of ground, both good and bad, beyond this. To the next!

[brett-buckner-the-dirt]

It was an argument that belonged in Toys ‘r’ Us in 1986.

My Dear Ol’ Dad and I were arguing over toys. However, calling it an argument implies that one or both parties were speaking. Instead Dad sat in his recliner and groaned while I stomped around his living room, stuffing old He-Man action figures back into a box nearly as tall as my 10-year-old daughter, mumbling how “freakin’ stupid” this all was.

Meanwhile, Jellybean sat awkwardly quiet on the couch, trying not to laugh as two adults acted like children.

The reason it happened is a story of obsession repackaged as nostalgia.

o o o

Jellybean and I love a road trip. We make music playlists. We download episodes of Lore, our favorite podcast. She agonizes over which of her Squishies to take (speaking of obsessions: but that’s another column), and the movies she’ll end up not watching. 

Dad lives in the literal woods outside of Milledgeville, Ga. It takes us about two hours to get there. We hang out with my 94-year-old Granny. Her mind and memory are steadily slipping into darkness, but seeing us seems to brighten her day a bit. My step-mom (seems weird for a 43-year-old man to use the term “step-mom”) cooks a huge meal – most of which we thankfully take home for leftovers. Dad and I talk sports, the weather, and his eternal effort to cut acres of grass in June with a push mower without dropping dead of heatstroke.

Dad’s house is also where my old toys live.

To be clear, these toys no longer belong to me. They belong to Dad. He saved them, or rescued them, rather. For whom and why is a bit of a mystery, but he has done these things, and I’m grateful for the effort.

Most of the time.

  An original Star Wars poster

Jellybean surrounded by my old toys.

o o o

There’s a fine separating a hoarder from a collector.

I, like my father before me, consider myself a collector because the things I covet have real world value. Unlike those sad bastards you see on AMC who refuse to throw away dot-matrix printers or open salsa from the Reagan administration, the stuff we keep can be sold on reputable web sites like Ebay to grown children as equally odd and enthusiastic as our selves.

The internet, in addition to amateur porn making it seem like every housewife in the world is a secret sex freak, has legitimized collecting. If you own it, you can bet there’s someone out in the nooks and crannies of cyberspace willing to pay you for it … not that Dad nor I would do that. Thus we own things most find silly and hold on to it for decades because, “I’ll be really valuable one day.”

That’s what I’d like on my gravestone – “It’ll be valuable one day.” Maybe that’ll make Jellybean think twice before dumping all my cool stuff off at Goodwill.

So, if hoarding is placing an irrational, emotional attachment on crap, then collection is putting irrational, emotional attachment on crap of relative value.

Dad has been grade A collector since before I was born. My Dear Sweet Mother shares tales of Dad in cut-off jeans digging around the dump for antique bottles. Over the years he’s given me some of these very bottles. I love stuff with a story behind it.

Dad isn’t exactly an outlier in the family.

Both Mom and her mom were collectors – mostly animals. At one point, grandmother could have been the Noah of miniature animals. She was raising miniature horses and miniature goats. There was also a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig and Chinese pug named Mr. Wong. Granted, these animals weren’t technically miniature, but they were small and round, so they fit under the umbrella.

Grandma with Georgia Girl, 1990

My Dear Sweet Mother provides safehaven by fostering homeless dogs and feeding some of the saddest stray cats the world’s ever seen, not to mention that her own two yippee dogs eat better than she (or I) do.

I’m a sucker for dogs, but I don’t trust cats. I feel like they’re all plotting against me. Plus, they’re arrogant, hateful and unwelcoming of love. Cats don’t care about you. That’s why I never understood the whole lonely old cat lady cliche. If you’re lonely – get a dog. If you’re a sociopath – get a cat.

My collecting has gone through stages. There were comic books, then CDs (at one point, I had about 3,000). Mostly, I collect books (especially Stephen King hardbacks) and juvenile-looking pop-culture or favorite-rock-band referencing T-shirts.

Pretty proud of my Stephen King bookshelf

Then there’s the toys.

I don’t scour thrift stores and flea markets for old toys, like I do for books (or vinyl). Rather, I save my old toys … or, more to the point, I save the old toys that Dad chooses to give to me for birthdays and Christmas.

And this brings us to the crux of what will go down as the most absurdly passive-aggressive argument in the history of father/son relationships.

o o o

I wanted to take some of my old toys home for my grandson – AKA Bam-Bam – to play with. The thought of sharing my old toys was a kind of grown-up wish fulfillment.

Dad was cool with this … to a point.

What he couldn’t say out loud, and I didn’t understand was that he liked having my old toys around (and by “around” I mean in a huge box in the back of closet) because they reminded him of me when I was a kid.

Yep … that’s a Donny Osmond doll.

Who doesn’t love the Lone Ranger

Damn, I loved Godzilla

Taking them away was like removing those memories, and Dad didn’t like that. But rather than verbalize this, we acted like two spoiled kids throwing a temper tantrum in the K-Mart toy aisle because our mom said we could have either the G.I. Joe action figure with Kung-Fu grip, or the He-Man action figure with battle armor, but not both.

That’s right: my father and I were in a standoff over G.I. Joe and He-Man.

It started after lunch. I was dividing the box into piles of “Keep” and “Put Back.” Given the disturbing number of leg-less Beast Man toys and at least three Skeletors that been snapped at the waist. All laid out, the ruins looked like a full-color shot from Gettysburg (had North and South battled an alien race jacked up on steroids).

And while we’re on the subject: why are He-Man figures so terribly bow-legged. Those poor souls should’ve been fitted with Forrest Gump braces before shipping ‘em out.

Anyway …

The Put Back pile dwarfed the Keep pile, but I could feel Dad’s eyes on me. He wasn’t happy. Jellybean, on the other hand, was having a blast naming random Mortal Combat, Dungeons & Dragons and Go-bot figures – “Tough Guy,” “Mr. Magic,” “Scooter,” and “Jason.”

Finally, Dad broke the growing silence and tension with, “So how many are you planning on taking?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” I answered, spitting that last word out like the petulant child I was devolving into. “I haven’t decided.”

But the spell was broken. The fun of revisiting my childhood was spoiled. I was pissed. It was time to go home. Like any child, I muttered things under my breath that I was too cowardly to say out loud (a habit I had as an actual child) and slammed all the toys back into the box. I even snatched some out of the hands of an awkwardly dumbstruck Jellybean.

Jellybean was still giving hugs and waving goodbye as I stomped out to the car.

Before slamming the car door, I shouted, “Hope you had a happy birthday, Dad” with all the venom I could muster, sounding like Brad Hamilton pounding on the bathroom door after getting fired from All American Burger. (“Hope you had a hell of piss, Arnold!”).

My temper tantrum was played out by the time Jellybean and I hit the highway, but I was still trying to make sense of what had just happened. That’s when my wonderfully pragmatic daughter spoke up:

“Well, daddy, I see your side. But I also see Papa Don’s side. You wanted to give those toys to Jase, but he doesn’t really know Jase, so he wanted to keep them because they make him think of you as a kid. You’re all grown up now and don’t really play with toys – at least not as much – and he kinda has a hard time letting go of that.

“He wants you to have them, but he also wants to keep them.”

Well. Crap. I turn the car around.

I met Dad on the porch and like men uncomfortable with expressing their feelings, we communicated mostly through grunts, head nods, shoulder shrugs, and more hand gestures than a third base coach being attacked by killer bees. We agreed, finally, that the whole thing was a silly misunderstanding.

Two days later a priority mail package arrived at my door stuffed with He-Man action figures. By the next weekend, Bam-Bam was bashing and battling all over the house like just another blonde-headed kid did once upon a time at his father’s house.

Watching him play made me happy, and I know it would’ve made Dad happy, too.

Bam-Bam and Buzz-Off

A boy and his toys

      Two grown men arguing over toys It was an argument that belonged in Toys ‘r’ Us in 1986. My Dear Ol’ Dad and I were arguing over toys.

[zombiegirl3878-blog]

Welcome to the Family

CHAPTER 4

After Sara had cleaned up the shop and sprayed some febreze all over the place so it doesn’t have the aroma of sex around, she locked up and jumped in her ride where she sat there for a few minutes. A smile couldn’t help to show up as she thought about what had just happened between the two. How this visit turned out about business but then made a big turn of them having sex. Her thighs squeezed together as the memories of Dominic taking her the way she always fantasized. Biting her bottom, she had to shake them thoughts out because no matter what, they hate each other and are still enemies, “fucking prick.” Sara said as she started up her car and drove on home. Her eyes would cast themselves on the rearview mirror. It’s always been a habit because of times she was being followed by one of The Costello’s men. Sara even had to move because they knew where she lived and they would do things to try to scare her. It was just exhausting and kept her up. The coast was clear so she punched it to 80, weaving in and out of traffic just to get home. Getting to her small place, she parked her ride, got out, locked it and headed inside her home where she too had a bowl for her keys or change. Rubbing the back of her neck, she went to the bathroom where she ran a hot bath. She’s quite sore from what had happened. Her poor kitty was now aching but it wasn’t a bad ache. In the tub, after undressing and leaving her close in a hamper, she sank down and started to relax. Closing her eyes, she gave a loud sigh and again, a smile came across her face that she didn’t even know it was there. Dominic made a good impression on her tonight. The big boy is very hot tempered and even scary when he does reach the boiling point but god damn, he’s so sexy no matter what expression he’s giving her. What mood he’s in? Seem tonight he took his aggression out on her so maybe…..just maybe she’ll continue to play with him. After her bath, she got out and wrapped a towel around herself. Going into her room, she sat at her vanity to use the wipes to clear off her make-up. Slowly, her towel was running down to the top of her bosoms, “what the hell?” She pulled the towel down to expose her breast where she looked at them through a mirror. A giggled came out because there was marks there from him sucking on them, “that man. Jesus.” Well she knows to cover up her babies till they are gone. Shaking her head she dropped the towel and went to her drawer. Her closet door was opened and the light in there was on. She noticed more markings that she walked to the mirror, turning from one side to another. These were bruises. Fingers from gripping her hips. She was just in awe that more aches started again to the core and wetness began. Placing her hand on her face, she just can’t forget this night. A few days later….. Dominic had to keep his mind busy by giving Angelica a job which had to be passed by his grandfather. They have been together long enough for Dom to tell her about his lifestyle with the family and how she wants to be part of it as well. His grandfather was ‘eh’ about it but his father was all for it. Given the okay to let her have a job, Dom had her following him when he went out to handle business. Collecting money from his cousin Zack and two other dealers. Two of his brother were also Capo’s so they collected their money. Dom was teaching her to count it, make sure it’s all there. Also to have a pad in handy to write down what was given to Zack. The ounces, the amount it would cost and if it all adds up without no money missing, you separate the money into three. For Dominic, for Zack and for the dealers. Trust me, it’s a lot of money to go around. The only time Angelica didn’t follow was when Dominic was at the shop working and since now Angelica has no worries of him cheating on her, she was able to cool down with the insecurity but it has been three days and Dominic has not had sex with her. Making love. Maybe he had a lot on his mind. Meanwhile…. In Sara’s life right now, she was over at her father’s, basically pleading to stop making trouble with The Costello’s. “They are getting to the point where they are going to off us one by one, I mean…..don’t you give an ounce of shit about me?” “Please. Like I am afraid of those bastards. I’ll come back with offing them as well. It’s not right that they get all the good clients. We need more money.” Her father explained while they were in his office. “Jeez dad, I wonder why we need more money. Look at all the people you already fucked over that they don’t want to do any trades with us. We barely have the guns to sale. The drugs are hard to get because we can’t find anyone like Christina whom has a father as a cartel. Shit we don’t even know anyone that can deliver us the goods.” Sara was beyond frustrated and she wasn’t doing this because of Dominic. She just knows how to run the businesses where they can make the same amount as them or even more but it’s like her father doesn’t hear her.” “Well then, go see Christina and see if she can supply us with cocaine and heroin.” “Are you not fucking listening to me dad. Christina is supplying the drugs for The Costellos. No way would she sell to us.” Now her father was listening that he rose his head and gave her a mean glare. He got up and walked around his desk. In front of his daughter, he gave a good backhand slap across her face, “never….disrespect me by talking that way to me. Go to talk to Christina.” That backhand almost knocked her out. She held her cheek, tears about to roll down but she stormed out of there. Christina, jeez what can be said about her. One thing she is friends with Sara. They’ve known each other since Elementary School and even though Christina is good friends with Dominic and the guys, she stood loyal with her friendship with Sara. Christina and her twin sister are both hispanic woman. Mhm, watch out cause a latina would cut you in half if you piss them off. Christina’s family is from Mexico and US. Her father along with his brothers started their business. Beltrán-Leyva Cartel is the name and has their territory in Mexico as well the states California, Nevada, Texas, New Mexico. LA California is where Christina handles the drugs that are delivered here from her father. Christina and her sister was the only children that their mother could punch out. Which by the way, Hector came to the US for business and that is how he met Linda, his wife now. Hector had to teach his little girls how to defend themselves, how to fight. Their uncles and cousins were the ones that taught them not to mention classes they took. Martial Arts. They took many styles of it just because Hector knew his daughters would have to be part of the business. Oh they loved it when they were able to do things for the family. It was like they were naturally born for this business. Once the daughters were 18 and had enough money to buy a house, both their parents moved back to Mexico so Hector can continue to put fear in their enemies. Both Christina and her sister are models but also assassinators They do it for their family when one of the guys fuck him over by disappearing without paying him. Ones that does not fear Hector and doesn’t pay at all. It was his daughters that had to be rid of them in any way they choose. They even get some political people as well. Ones that are trying to put a stop of the drugs coming from Mexico to the US. Over at one of the studio’s Christina goes to, to lingerie panties or a bikini suit shots, is where Sara paid her a visit. Christina was a pretty short girl but it wasn’t like she was running down the runway looking like stick figure. She was healthy looking so that’s why many places wanted her. To be different from her sister so they wouldn’t get mixed up, Christina dyes her hair a lot and has some tattoos. Her eyes were like gems. Very beautiful. In a purple lace and mesh bustier, Christina was in front of the camera, taking shots of every angle she can give them. When seeing Sara walking in, Christina smiled and told the photographer she needs a minute. A guy rushed up to her and gave her a silk robe where she tied it up and approached her best friend, giving her a big hug, “hey girl….I haven’t seen you in a long time.” Sara gave a half smile and hugged her back, “just been very busy to visit.” The two pulled back and Christina notices a dark purple mark on her cheek “you’re dad?” All Sara did was nod and placed her head down. “Son of a bitch. I am going to kill that fucker one of these days. You need to take that throne honey…...come on.” Christina placed her arm around Sara’s and led her to the dressing room to have some privacy. They sat down at a table, “what didn’t you do?” Christina asked. “I talked back to him in a disrespectful way. I’ve been doing what he tells me to do which now I am in so much trouble with Dom.” Sara explained. “Yeah, I heard about you taking away their clients. I know it’s not you, I know this is all your father. Selfish prick.” Sara nodded her head and inhaled deeply, “we’re losing people that we would do our trades with.” She looked up to Christina, not wanting to ask this of her friend, “we even lost Miguel.” Christina rose her brow when that name was mention, “Rodriguez? From Columbia?” “Yeap.” “Jesus Sara, he’s the type to rip off his client's.” Christina got up and went to the fridge in there to grab some bottled waters, “some of his products are pure but some of it’s not. Usually that stuff you sell to the junkies because they believe it’s pure.” She kept on explaining which made Sara snap. “He always tells me that this half is for your important clients and the rest for the nobodies, it makes sense now.” “Mhm.” Christina sat back down and gave her friend a bottled water, “I don’t think you lost him…..I think he was killed because of other clients he fucked over.” “Oh my god.” Sara pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. Christina tilted her head to the side, observing her best friend for a bit, “you need a new supplier don’t you? That’s what this visit is for.” Sara looked up, almost wanting to cry and Christina saw that expression. Yes, she was supplying the drugs for The Costello’s and even other people but her father does not want to do any deals with The Vega’s because he knows Sebastian and how he is. Inhaling deeply, Christina knew what she can do, “alright…..I can supply you some merch but as soon as you find someone else, we have to cut the ties between us. I will just have to make up a new client's name so my father can send more to me.” “Oh my god Christina, you don’t know how much that means to me.” And it did. If it helps her from getting a beat down from her father. She got up and walked over to Christina and gave her a hug. All Christina can do was giggle, looking over to the door when it opened and in walked, Jared, Zack and Jim. “Oooo, just in time for some lezbo action.” Jim said, rubbing his hands. Rolling her eyes, Sara went to sit back down. Twisting her cap off of the bottle, she can feel the eyes of Zack on the back of her head. “What the fuck is she doing here?” Zack asked angrily, “bitch still haven’t gave up those clients she took from us.” Zack gave one of the leg of the chair a kick so it shook. “Excuse me…..here, you don’t talk about business and here, you will respect my friend.” Christina told him. “Go wait outside.” Jared ordered him. “If you don’t give them back, I’ll come after you bitch.” Zack started to walk back towards the door. Sara gritted her teeth and stood up, almost knocking the chair back, “call me a bitch one more time and see if I don’t cut your dick off and shove it down your throat you fucking fag,” Jared and Jim began to laugh because it was a funny image to see Zack’s dick in his throat. “Fuck you cunts. I’m out.” Zack left the room and everyone just laughed out loud. Some of the guys who works for Dominic doesn’t mind Sara at all because they all knew, if she was to run her father’s business that everything will be okay. Sitting back down, Sara took a swig of her water. “So what can I do for you guys?” Christina asked with a risen curious eyebrow. “Well I kind of need your help.” Jared began, “see this guy that owes a lot of money to The Costello’s. He hasn’t pay a dime back and he’s been in hiding. We tried all of his favorite spots and nothing. He’s not even there. We’re worried he may have skipped town so we need you to locate him.” Christina drummed her purple painted nails on the surface on the table, “have you guys tried every strip joint?” Jared looked to Jim, Jim looking to him with a shrug, “no we haven’t.” “If he’s got money, he’s most likely to spend it on junkie strippers but I’ll look for him.” She said with a smile. Jared gave a smile back and came to her, pressing his lips against her cheek, “thanks baby.” He said softly and pulled away, gesturing Jim to leave. The two guys left which left Sara wondering. “Are you and Jared an…..item?” Sara asked. Christina laughed softly, looking down at her water bottle as her cheeks went red. “Oh my god, you guys are.” Sara said loudly. “Shhh, keep it down.” Christina got up and walked to the door, opened it a crack and peeped out to see no one was ease dropping. “Is this a secret relationship?” Christina shook her head no and closed the door, “it’s not a relationship…..it’s just a sex relationship.” Christina sat back and took a drink of her water, “it’s a fifty shades of gray type of relationship…...only my dominant is way sexier and he really knows how to make me shiver.” The girls continued on with that conversation where Sara wanted so badly to tell her best friend about her and Dom’s little romp. Over at Angelica’s house….. Dom was getting dressed after having sex with his girlfriend. Sadly, it wasn’t the same. He didn’t feel right doing this with Angelica when all he can think about is Sara. As for Angelica, she was quite disappointed because he came fast. Leaving her with no satisfaction but she wasn’t about to question that. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dom started to place his shoes on when Angelica came from behind, running her hands down his bare chest, “I’ve been doing alright for myself in this business. Who knows, maybe I can do other things.” Dom just huffed out, “other things would mean you have to kill someone or do a big trade with someone that will make you cry.” Angelica frowned then sat on her hinds, “god damn it Dom, don’t you have any faith in me.” Standing up, Dom grabbed his shirt and placed it on, turning to look at his girl, “Angelica, you don’t belong here. This is not you…..” Pulling her legs from under her butt, she had them dangling on the side of the bed, “I can do this Dom…..it’s the only way to get closer to you.” Hearing that was the stupidest shit he ever heard coming from Angelica. “Just stay away from it all.” Dom snatched his jacket from a chair and left her pad. God, he wasn’t even thinking clearly when he put her into this mess. It just seem his father was wanting Dom to get with a girl that knows this line of work. Sara does. Leaving Angelica’s house, Dom was on the road and it was getting dark when his cell phone went off. Taking it out, he answered and heard Jim, “what’s up?” Dom asked. “Zack man…..he knows the clients weren’t given back from Sara. He’s looking to kill her tonight.” Seeing red, Dom stopped at the red light, “are you sure about this?” “Positive, you need to stop him because this is just going to start trouble.” “Okay, I will. Bye.” Dom got off quickly and called Sara’s phone. The car behind him was honking at him to go so he pressed on the gas and took off. “Sara here.” she answered the phone. “Where are you?” “None of your fucking business.” “Sara damn it, just tell me where the fuck you are.” Dominic’s tone was stern. “I’m over at Temptation.” Click. Dominic hung up and drove as fast as he could since it was quite away from where he was. Sara was looking down at her phone, wondering what the hell that was about. Tucking her phone in her purse, Sara ordered her another drink, not knowing there was a red dot hitting the back of her head.