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spaceorphan18 · 1 year

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Glee Musical Retrospective : Don't Rain On My Parade (Sectionals)

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Sung by: Rachel Berry Original Artist(s): from Funny Girl OS

Oh, it's definitely a very special episode, isn't it? Pull up a chair and get comfy because we're talking about Rachel Berry's most iconic number...

Admittedly, I have never seen Funny Girl - but from what I can tell, it's the semi-biographic tale of an awkward, Jewish woman who gets into show business originated by Barbra Streisand. While I hear it hasn't aged well -- I can still see why someone like Rachel Berry would fine inspiration (and aspiration) here.

I wish I had more of a history of Lea Michele and this particular song - I'm sure there's a story there, too. Maybe Kevin and Jenna will shed some light on it (if they haven't already).

Story Analysis

So... let's break down why this song is such a great fit for Rachel...

Don't tell me not to live Just sit and putter Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade

The song starts out as a punchy declaration to other people about how she doesn't want to be idle in her life. And how she won't let them push her into their way of thinking. That's the thing about Rachel - this song has a sharpness about it, she has a goal, she has ambition, and she won't let even the worst circumstances temper her desire to get to where she wants to be.

Don't tell me not to fly I've simply got to If someone takes a spill It's me and not you Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade

Again, it's all tied up in Rachel's ambitions and where she wants to go in her life. She can't /not/ go for her dreams - it's not in her, and the lyrics reflect that accordingly.

I'll march my band out I'll beat my drum And if I'm fanned out Your turn at bat, sir At least I didn't fake it Hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it

Rachel's number one fan is Rachel herself - and that drive is going to push her out to at least try with everything she's got. She has to be her own cheerleader, especially since she has so many people telling her she's never going to make it -- for a variety of reasons. And even if she fails, she can at least claim that she gave it her honest best shot.

But whether I'm the rose of sheer perfection A freckle on the nose of life's complexion A cinder on the shiny apple of his eye I gotta fly once I gotta try once Only can die once, right, sir Ooh, life is juicy Juicy, and you see I gotta have my bite, sir

I know that this song is about Fanny Brice wanting to get married. But you can substitute the guy for being on Broadway -- Rachel's dream being the love affair in question here. And again, it's reiteration that Rachel is too ambitious, has too much drive to not try. Her whole self and self worth is wrapped up in her dreams, and she can only owe it to herself to go out and achieve them.

Get ready for me, love, cause I'm a comer I simply gotta march My heart's a drummer Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade

I'm gonna live and live now Get what I want I know how

Okay, so I'm beginning to feel redundant now, but I feel like every line in this song speaks to who Rachel is as a person. And about how she's going to live her best possible life, even if other people don't want her to, even if other people are telling her she shouldn't or can't. She's going to do it anyway.

One roll for the whole shebang One throw, that bell will go clang Eye on the target and wham One shot, one gun shot, and BAM Hey, Mr. Arnstien Here I am!

And, I mean, in true Rachel fashion - this song gets more dramatic as it goes along. It all builds up to that moment where she declares 'here I am' - because she's arrived -- and in this moment, she's arrived in the spotlight on the stage. It's her debut as the star of the show - and here she is - Rachel Berry - in all of her young, optimistic glory.

Technical Thoughts

So... first of all, I think it's somewhat obligatory to say that Lea Michele does really well with this song. She's technically very proficient, and understands the needs of a Broadway song (that sing-speech style; the range and vocal technique, etc, etc). What I really want to comment on, though, is the acting --

There's a difference between any actress singing this song as Fanny Brice in the world of Funny Girl and Rachel Berry singing this as her debut song at a competition as a teenage girl.

The way the song is shot and sung is really quite interesting. First of all there's the curtain open on the first, sharp 'Don't' - which makes it very visually punctuated. The spotlight is on her, and her vocals come out as very strong. (She's also coming out alone - as this is purposely Rachel's moment to shine.) But, if you watch through her initial walking down, she's very nervous, and very uneasy about the performance. It's a nice touch - and one I really didn't notice until closer look, the vocals are so strong, it's easy to miss Rachel's initial apprehension.

And then, of course, Rachel gets into it -- playing it up with the audience as they watch her. This song is hers, and she knows it, and lets the drive of the song drive her performance.

One thing I do like about this song is that Rachel gets to move around a lot -- there's a bit of choreography going on, and she gets to play with her motion as the song goes, giving it a lot of energy. Unfortunately, Rachel solos begin to get bogged down in overemoting messes, so it's nice to see her take charge with such fire.

So - as the performance reaches its climax -- you notice how the camera work gets more frantic as it swirls around her. It's a nice way to add momentum to the song as she yells 'bam'. It also happens again, too, when she's belting 'here I am'. The camera moves in and focuses closely in on her -- because she's arrived at this applauded moment.

Another nice beat to this one is that as she sings 'i'll march my band out' the rest of the glee club comes out. It's a nice visual moment matching up with the lyrics.

I will end by saying - the song has definitely been pre-recorded (obviously), and doesn't have that live sound - but I think they do a really good job covering the moment with such a dramatic performance that, unless you're listening for it, you can't tell.

If you guys want some good, actual vocal technique analysis, I have a couple of links for you:

Hannah Bayles

Songs from a Suitcase

Glee Live

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This is the version done for the 3D movie (um, did it need to be in 3D??). Anyway - this is, more than anything, Lea Michele as Rachel Berry having a flirty, fun time with the audience (and camera). It's less about the specific lyrics and meaning of the song, and more about having fun and showing off her abilities.

Lea Michele as Fanny Brice

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Okay, so I'm including this because, well, I'd be remiss not to - but also because it shows the difference between playing the song as it is in context -- as Fanny Brice as opposed to Rachel Berry singing it for her debut competition number, or even Lea Michele doing it for funsies. The song, in context, is much calmer - and more reflective of the actual conflict going on in the character's life.

I think, also interestingly, since Lea's older now -- her voice has hit it's full maturity. There's a depth to it that she didn't have it before. Part of it is the context and location, but it is a deeper and fuller sound than when she sang it as Rachel.

vs. The Studio Version : I mean, other than that the vocals to instrument/accompaniment ratio is better mixed and that they take out all the TV performance extra noise of the crowd, etc, it's pretty much the same.

vs. The Original Version : So, weirdly, I had never heard the Barbra Streisand version before Glee - and here it is! This is the movie version, which allow sit to be a bit more intimate than when it's sung on a stage. Of course, Barbra is, like, flawless. But it's kind of fun listening to how this is just interpreted so differently. Of course - it's her as Fanny Brice, and again, in a movie not the stage. But I think just goes to show that music can be written out the exact same way but have so many different types of interpretations.

#the great glee rewatch #so's musical retrospective #glee #glee music #okay this got super long -- but it is rachel's signature song #okay i have now heard this song like 800 times #Youtube

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neverwritewhatyouknow · 1 year

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Okay, so I said I had a post related to some comments I received recently on this post, and here it is. Buckle up. (Screenshot of their comments at the bottom)

To start, I’m not going to reveal this person’s name, because I was told that they have committed some previous crimes in real life (related to stalking celebrities, restraining orders, cyberstalking and harassment, etc), as well as being homophobic (along with a bunch of other -phobics) and I don’t want them to come after me in any way that’s unwarranted. I also don’t want to give them an audience of like-minded (antisemitic) people. Apparently this person really, really, really likes obsessively loves one of the actors mentioned in the post and this was their reaction to me saying she is guilty of Jew-face both on Broadway and TV, and shouldn’t play Jewish roles.

These comments were left on my post about how Jewish roles are normally always played by non-Jewish actors, and how that’s a modern and socially “acceptable” form of antisemitism and Jew-erasure. The post with the Patti LuPone pictures.

My response:

First off, you should never tell any Jewish person that they “have problems” when fighting back against antisemitism, Jew-hate, Jew-erasure. Just like, never do that. “That you don’t have any problems apparently.” Jews face discrimination, antisemitism, violence, etc every single day. I personally have experienced antisemitic attacks both irl and online so many times that it’s just something I had to get used to. Isn’t that crazy? I have no problems apparently. Apparently by house wasn’t targeted and carved with a cross. Apparently it wasn’t nearly burnt down. Apparently I haven’t had coins thrown at me. Apparently I’ve never been spit on or punched in the face by strangers. Yup, no problems here.

Moving on. Yes, there are many successful Jewish actors working, no debate there. I could add on a few more. But that doesn’t change that non-Jews cannot play a Jewish role. That’s the same as saying “There are numerous Hispanic actors in the world! Who cares if we cast some 100% polish actor as a Mexican character once in a while!” That’s literally not a valid argument at all. You can’t just decide when a minority ethnicity gets to be represented or not. Who gets to be whitewashed or not.

The big deal is that Jewish people are an ethnic and religious minority. We’ve been slaughtered for literally centuries and beyond. There’s like 2 of us. And I repeat, an ethnic minority. You cannot play an ethnicity you don’t belong to. You cannot play a Jewish character anymore than a white girl from Kansas can play a Black girl from Nigeria. You can play stereotypes of said ethnicities, or races, or backgrounds, but that’s playing into a stereotype which always ends up more racist and discriminatory than anything else. You cannot play Jewish if you’re not. You can play the Judaism, you can play harmful tropes like “banker” or “lawyer” or talk in Yiddish, but you can’t be a Jewish character if you’re not Jewish. You can be a stereotype, which is just harmful. ***note: as always any statement I make about “ethnic” Jews includes converts, as they are seen as joining the tribe and thereby become ethnically Jewish as well, since their kids would also be ethnically Jewish.***

Jews play non-Jews? Hell yeah we do. Playing a nun in the Sound of Music was really fun when I was a kid at summer camp. Here’s the difference, Christians aren’t a minority. They aren’t globally and historically oppressed to the same degree as other minorities. I’m pretty sure this is what the poster means by Jews playing non-Jewish roles. But, take a look at the four million Hallmark Christmas movies a year and tell me how many of those actors are Jewish. Jews so very rarely (if ever) play any role that is explicitly written as non-Jewish, like a priest, or a religious person, or even just a woman who wears a cross but isn’t religious at all. But a lot of non-Jews play roles that are written explicitly as Jewish. Jewish does not mean religious, this is something I think many people don’t understand. I am Jewish, I am not religious. Many Jews aren’t religious, but I’m super Jewish. Jewish characters may not be religious at all, but they’re still Jewish and still need to be played by someone of that group.

Christians have no need to complain. Because 1. Everything I said before, 2. You don’t face majority discrimination, 3. You’re a religion, not an ethnicity.

You can play a religion. You can’t play an ethnicity. You can play stereotypes. You can’t play an ethnicity or a race.

Finding the best actor for a minority role… Call me crazy, but when looking for the best actor to play a minority, one would think the best actor would be a member of said minority.

“We’re trying to cast this Michelle Obama biopic. We have these three great actors, we need to find the best one!”

“Who have we got?”

“1. Demi Lovato 2. Reese Witherspoon 3. Angela Bassett.”

“Huh, well, Reese had the best audition, her pant suit was spot on. Angela was amazing, but the best actor for the job is Reese!”

Do you see how that doesn’t work? Maybe all the actors were great, they had amazing auditions, but sometimes you have to look at who the character is! Casting a white woman as Michelle Obama is legitimately insane. It’s just insane. When a character is explicitly written as a minority, you have to take that into account. The best actor for the job is someone of that minority. There are sooooooo many talented Jewish actors out there, saying that they’d cast someone simply because “they’re a Jew but therefore can’t act or doesn’t fit the role” is crazy. Obviously don’t hire someone who can’t act, but if you’re in that room auditioning, you can act. You wouldn’t be there if you couldn’t. And like… Jews can act. It’s not a one or the other, “Jewish” or “talented” there’s literally the overlap of “Jewish and talented” that I feel like is really being overlooked here. I feel crazy for having to explain that. Sounds crazy, right?

“Travel back to the 30’s, or 40’s where it was really an issue!” This poster just told me to go die in the Holocaust. I don’t have to explain why that’s bad, right? We’re all in agreement on this one, right? Don’t do this. This is a thing that’s like… very very very bad. But just in case their antisemitism wasn’t showing enough earlier, here it is all laid out nice and clear.

Moral of the post: If a Jew says something is antisemitic, believe them. We know more than you about this, because we live it every day. Jews and other minorities can play whatever Christian role they want because they are not a global or American minority ethnicity and religion. PLUS, you can play a religion, but you cannot play an ethnicity. (Should I make a post detailing more about “playing” religion and stereotypes? Let me know). Plus, again, very very very few roles are ever explicitly Christian, most roles are open for whatever ethnicity works best, but some roles are explicit in their ethnicity/race/background and that needs to be looked at when finding the “best” actor. Some successful Jewish actors does not mean you can erase Jews from other places. Just like how having many successful Black, or Asian, or Hispanic, or Indigenous actors does not mean you can just decide there’s been enough and you want a random person who’s not of said group to play a role belonging to said group.

Did I cover everything? As always, leave questions below and I’ll answer what I can. DMs are always open (if I don’t see the message, it’s because I get a lot of hate stuff and only check when I feel mentally and emotionally strong enough, but I do check it once in a while).

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blindbeta · 3 years

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Blind / Low Vision Person’s Review of “Blind” by Rachel DeWoskin and Why Writers Should Not Underestimate the Benefits of a Sensitivity Reader

[Content warnings: spoilers for the book. Ableism. Brief mention of an accident involving eye trauma. Mentions of suicide. Stereotypes about blind people. Also this review, because I focused on the portrayal of blindness, comes across negatively. Please know that I have no hate for the author and might even read another book she wrote. However, I did not like the way this book portrayed blindness and, as difficult as it is, I wanted to be honest in my review.]

I struggled with the title, and I’m not even sure benefits is the appropriate word. What I want to convey here is not Brought to You By Big Sensitivity Reader Company vibes, but more This Book Was Not Good and It Needed a Sensitivity Reader Very Badly vibes.

Blind is about Emma Silver, a high school student who goes blind in a traumatic accident. Here is a good summary and review by a blind person. I listened to the audiobook, which was narrated well. I’ll start by saying this will only be a review of the portrayal of blindness — I’ll try to leave my other opinions out just to keep things focused.

Unfortunately, focusing on just blindness means that it will not make this review more positive, because this book is about a blind girl recovering from going blind. In a way that is both inauthentic and swerves well out of the author’s lane. I say that because, as I hope will become apparent, this book consists of main character Emma being sad about being blind for the majority of the book. The book doesn’t simply have a character who goes blind. That is the main character’s entire arc.

This is a long review. However, I believe it will be invaluable for my readers and anyone who is interested in writing a blind character. Because this book passes most of my minimum standards for writing blind characters and was still lacking due to many factors, including stereotypes. I included many sub-headings so you can find specific topics easily.

Helpful Links

I include these links in the review. I’ll list them here for easy finding.

Here are two reviews of the book by blind readers: one and two.

Here is a video of the author talking about some of research she did for the book.

Here is my post Things I Want to See More Of / Less Of.

Here is my post about writing a blind character adjusting to being blind and being all sad about it when you aren’t blind yourself.

And finally, here is the post I shared that lists misconceptions about blind people.

The Author

The author, Rachel Dewoskin, is not blind. I did as much research as I could, but even if I hadn’t done so before reading the book, it was obvious she wasn’t blind herself. There are too many inaccuracies and offensive moments. This becomes a problem not because her MC was blind, but because she told a blind person’s story and used tropes in ways I think would be better off written by a blind person. If I’m going to read a story like this, I don’t want to read it from the perspective of a person who isn’t blind. When I get into the details of what went wrong, I hope you’ll see why.

Did the author do her research? Yes. The author met with blind people, clearly researched assistive technology and cane skills, and even taught herself contracted Braille. She talks a little about it in this video.

In fact, I wanted to say I am so impressed and grateful this author immersed herself in things like Braille and cane skills. None of my followers have shared that they went to a Lighthouse For the Blind or taught themselves to read Braille or spoken so passionately about why they loved it.

But sometimes research falls short. Or it is simply not enough.

That’s why I’m writing this review. For you writers writing blind characters when you aren’t blind. Because while the author clearly had good intentions, while the author clearly did her research and put in the time to learn and listen in ways I don’t think many of my followers have yet — the book was not authentic enough for me.

This book needed several sensitivity readers. If it had any, I would be surprised.

The Cover

The audiobook seems to have Braille on the cover, but I can’t tell if it is accessible or simply a picture of Braille. The cover features the word Blind in white print on a black background, with what seems to be Braille in rainbow colors that also spell out the title. I’ll reserve judgment here, since I don’t know the answer. If the Braille is tactile, then the cover is fantastic.

In the video I linked, the author seems to be holding the hardcover edition of the book with Braille on the cover. I can’t tell if the Braille is actually tactile or not.

What I Liked About the Book

I wanted to list a few things I liked about the book.

1. The main character is Jewish.

2. Emma has a large family full of well-developed characters and realistic portrayals of various ages. Everyone reacts uniquely to her blindness and I thought these characters were all used well. The scenes with Emma and her older sisters as well as the scenes with her mom were really great.

3. Emma gets therapy for her trauma. She also gets training to use a cane. These are annoyingly rare in stories.

4. As I said, the author clearly did her research. This is obvious when reading the book and In everything I found when researching the author after I finished it. I want to give the author praise here. I thought her explanations of technology Emma uses were the most accurate I have seen so far, both in books and when doing sensitivity reads.

What I Didn’t Like

I will start with this: Emma, after a year of learning to use her cane, is still using a cane inside her own house. After a year. This is not realistic, nor does it seem comfortable at all to use a cane in one’s own home. I don’t know anyone who does this and according to the other reviews, I am not the only one who was surprised by this.

Basically, this story would be okay with some inaccuracies. That’s to be expected. The real issue I had with this book was that it uses tropes the blind community generally hates and that the book is literally about !!! a character going blind and adapting. That’s the story. If you remove the blindness and the trauma, the story falls apart.

The author told a story that was not hers to tell and she did so badly.

If you are confused about why I dislike this, please read this post called Writing Blind Characters Accepting Being Blind When You Aren’t Blind Yourself.

What Did The Author Do Badly?

Trauma and Blindness

The story starts when main character, Emma, goes blind after a fireworks accident. Not only is this cliché, but it also tics one of my boxes in my Things I Want To See Less of post. This author wrote about a character going blind due to a traumatic accident. Link to the post.

In telling a story that was not hers to tell, here are some harmful things in the book:

The author does not do a good job of separating Emma’s trauma from her blindness. To be fair, this is difficult and most people don’t know to go about doing so with purpose. There are a lot of times in the book where the fact that Emma is traumatized leads to her saying a lot of terrible things about blindness and blind people that are never corrected or contradicted in the story. Again, if you are not sure why this is a problem, read the link I shared to my post.

Here are a few times this issue came up:

-Emma develops a habit of rocking, which myself and many reviewers know to attribute to trauma, but it isn’t clear if the author thinks blind people rock, as the stereotype indicates. Is Emma rocking as a trauma response or because she is blind? The book doesn’t make it clear. This is a time where authors need to be clear.

-Emma assumed she will never get a job, be kissed, get married, etc, after going blind.

-Emma yells about being ruined due to her blindness. The first two hours of the audiobook consist of Emma complaining about being blind. She mentions never being able to get a job a few times, assuming she won’t be able to work. While blind people do struggle with employment, this is due to discrimination, lack of transportation, lack of accommodations, lack of community support, and other systemic issues.

-Emma calls herself disfigured.

-Emma states she wanted to die. In another part of the book, when a background character we never met, Claire, completed suicide, Emma wonders if she was so focused on Claire because she wondered if she wanted to kill herself too.

-On the subject of the character, Claire, Emma states: “How easy would being gay be compared to being blind?”

This is especially damaging because some people are blind and gay. It also isn’t fair for Emma to compare them and the systemic issues that are faced by blind people and gay people. Emma not only trivializes homophobia, but also decides being blind is worse. For Emma, being blind is the worst thing ever, which is very isolating to read.

There are times where the fact that Emma is traumatized was not only grouped in with her blindness, but where the author used trauma to write ideas about blindness that are ultimately harmful.

This book, if readers of the blog want to read it, should be a lesson on why separating trauma from blindness is important. Whether that means making clear distinctions in the narrative itself or just not writing about a character going blind after a traumatic accident.

Let’s continue the overall things done badly.

Stereotypes and Tropes About Blind People

1. Rocking —

I have already mentioned the rocking thing above, but to reiterate here, not all blind people rock to orient themselves.

2. Touching Faces —

Emma and another blind character literally feel each other’s faces, one of the most hated tropes for blind people. In another scene, Emma feels another character’s face without asking.

3. Where Are the Audio Descriptions? —

Emma compares her life to a horror movie she couldn’t watch. This is a subtle reinforcement of the idea that blind people don’t watch films or television. The book makes no mention of audio descriptions. I suppose Emma and all the other blind characters simply don’t watch films or shows anymore.

4. Supposedly Fake Service Dogs —

Emma gets a dog that is specifically said to not be a guide dog. Emma brings this dog to restaurants and to school. Emma explains that she can get away with bringing her dog because no one wants to tell the blind kid no. This was, as you may be able to imagine, frustrating to read. Plenty of blind people have been denied access to transportation and buildings with a guide dog that is supposed to be able to travel freely. Emma’s blindness would absolutely not be a big help to her in bringing her dog places where it is not allowed. In showing Emma getting away with bringing her dog into restaurants when he is explicitly not a service dog, the author is contributing to a huge myth that prevents actual service dogs from traveling freely. Yes, this is only a book and it probably isn’t falling into the hands of someone powerful — however, it has probably been picked up by a business owner, a driver for public transport, a teacher, etc.

5. Avoiding words like see and look —

Emma avoids words like see and look. She also gets angry at her friends for using such words. At one point, Emma’s friend says something and Emma snaps, “I can’t see”. This prompts her friend to, according to Emma, never make that mistake again. Toward the end of the book, Emma is still avoiding such words.

Here is a list of misconceptions about blind people. Look at #6.

Here is another review of this book that also touches on this issue. The reviewer states: “The strange thing is that I’ve never known any blind person avoiding the use of words like “see” or “look.” Again, I’d hate for sighted people to read this book and think that blind folk all avoid words with visual associations; in fact, the only blind friends I talk to moan about sighted people avoiding the use of such visual words because they think we’ll be offended!”

6. All Blind People Are Apparently Totally Blind —

At one point in the story, Emma attends a school for the blind. Another character, who I think was Emma’s mother, says that the campus is beautiful. Emma makes this remark: “Why bother making a school for the blind beautiful? It’s lost on everyone anyway.”

Wow, Emma, that was rude. This is another example of where Emma’s pain and anger cause issues for readers. If they take this at face value, they may think that blind people don’t notice or appreciate beauty. More importantly, they might also assume, like Emma, that all blind people can’t see. As I have stated many times on this blog, most blind people have residual vision. Not everyone is totally blind. This is why, like beautiful grounds, schools for the blind also have things like stairs with high contrast.

7. Subtle Use of the Idea That People With Low Vision Should Rather Strain Themselves Than Be Blind —

This one was less obvious for me. However, once I thought about it again, I understood what I was reading in this character. There’s a rather outgoing character named Seb whose personality is very refreshing in this story. Seb attends the school for the blind with Emma. Seb has low vision.

So Seb wants to get a job. Remember how Emma was afraid she wouldn’t be able to get a job now that she is blind?

Instead of showing Seb getting a job to prove that idea wrong, he knows he has to conveniently not mention being blind when he applies, showing up in sunglasses and without a cane. The book states he worries he wouldn’t be able to fill out the application.

Here is what the book states:

[Quote] “He got hired without telling any of the guys who ran the place that he wasn’t sighted; I know because he had confided in me and Dee the week before that he wanted the job—if friend worked there and said they had an opening—but Seb was worried he wouldn’t be able to fill out the application. So he showed up one night before closing time, wearing sunglasses and not carrying a cane, and asked all casually if he could grab and application and bring it back the next day.

And he spent all night filling it and brought it back the next day. He didn’t mention that he was blind or that the application had taken six hours to finish with the help of his sighted brother.” [End quote]

Seb has no obligation to reveal any personal information to them. If he wants to fill out the application on his own time, in a way in which he feels comfortable, that is fine. However, the book implies he thought he would not be hired if they knew he was blind. Rather than talk about the employment discrimination that is such a huge problem for blind people, the book decides to skip over this. And rather than address Emma’s fear-based expectation that she will never get a job, presumably because she doesn’t think blind people can do anything, the book ignores it.

Seb getting a job, especially in this way, does absolutely nothing to assuage Emma’s fears. Or challenge any possible low expectations the readers may have.

Seb fills out the application by himself and it takes six hours. Six. Hours. His brother also helps him eventually and it still takes that long. No one I know, even with intense internalized ableism, would sit there for six hours doing something like that.

Seb should be using a magnifying device or a scanner app. There is tons of technology out there for people with low vision and the author chose to include absolutely none of it in the book. Instead, she chose to show a character struggling for six hours without exploring his reasons for doing so. Does he do this because of internalized ableism? If yes, how can the same character tell Emma the school will get rid of her “Poor Blind Kid bullshit”?

Now, in some families and some cultures, it would be more appropriate for a family member to help. However, the author tells us nothing more about Seb’s culture, his family life, or his motivations. I assume he did not ask for his brother’s help until later, because I can’t fathom why having a family member help from the start would take six hours.

Why is a character doing this in a story that is supposed to be about adjusting to blindness? Clinging to his remaining vision instead of using a few adaptive tools to make things easier on his eyes hardly makes him a good role model for Emma. Why is a character modeling independence in this specific way? In a way that tells Emma that it is better to struggle with a little vision than to be totally blind?

This is reinforced when Emma says some kids, including Seb, pass well. This is something that cannot be given nuance unless it is written by someone who experienced it. Otherwise, the story shows Emma over and over again that being blind is bad. Undesirable. Which is ableist.

Do people struggle with this? Absolutely. Did the author write it well? No.

And Here Are a Few Things That Could Have Been Done Better

In this section, I wanted to go over things I thought could have been done better. They aren’t necessarily harmful, but I wanted to mention them.

Sunglasses

The main character wears sunglasses when she goes out. This is likely because she has a scar she feels self-conscious about, but this is still a big stereotype that the author could have taken more care with.

O&M Issues

So Emma has someone come around to teach her orientation and mobility, which was nice. The author put in her research here as well. However, the instructor leaves after a time, which seems odd. Rather than work with her around her schools or other locations, he decides she has learned all the basics. I received O&M training until university.

Now Let’s Examine The Blind Characters vs Tropes

In this section, I want to go over the biggest tropes in the stories structure, the number of blind characters, and what I normally advise to get around these issues. We’ll see how this advice compares to how the book turned out.

So, the things to look out for are:

-tokenism

-blind characters going blind through trauma

-blind characters being sad about being blind

Examining Tokenism

Emma is not the only blind character. The blind characters include: Emma, Sebastian, Dee, and Annabelle. I normally say to have one other blind character at minimum. The book meets that requirement.

Examining Blind Characters Going Blind Through Trauma

I also normally suggest avoiding characters going blind through trauma, especially main characters. If the writer would like to go ahead with this, I normally suggest 2 or 3 other blind characters who didn’t go blind through trauma. With 2 as the minimum. I admit, I prefer the main character not to be the one going blind through trauma, simply because the main character has so much power in the perception of the reader.

Let us examine each character.

Emma - went blind through a traumatic fireworks accident

Sebastian- unknown

Dee - unknown

Annabelle- went blind through Retinitis Pigmentosa

On the topic of Dee and Seb, Emma does mention they may have better hearing, which she claims you only have if you lose your sight before the age of ten. We can guess that Dee and Seb both went blind in early childhood or were born blind, but we aren’t sure. What I want here is explicit confirmation that other characters didn’t go blind through accidents. We only get that with Annabelle and her RP.

Not only that, but the other blind characters are not in the novel as much. Annabelle only shows up at the end, seemingly as a way for Emma to help another recently blind person to show how she has developed. Seb and Dee are only in a few chapters, mostly as flashbacks. They don’t get much backstory or development either.

However, it fills my minimum requirements, so I’ll let it pass.

Examining Blind Characters Being Sad About Being Blind

This is literally Emma throughout the entire book. Until the last few chapters.

Annabelle has a similar, shorter arc, although she is only 9 at the time. Annabelle comes in near the end of the book.

It is normal for people to need an adjustment period, particularly if they are young. However, to have the entire book consist of Emma being sad and having trauma focused mostly on her blindness is not something I’m okay with. Especially because, as I wrote in this post, it can leave non-blind readers with a very negative impression of blindness. Again, why would I want to read about this arc from an author who isn’t blind? Why make the entire book about adjusting to blindness?

Anyway, then we have Seb and Dee.

There characters were refreshing in this story, which is mostly Emma being sad and angry.

Dee doesn’t seem to be sad, but we don’t know much about her. She does seem well adjusted and laidback. She and Seb go skiing, so that’s something.

Sebastian gets a little more attention in the story. He does tell Emma the school for the blind will knock the “BPK bullshit” or “Poor Blind Kid bullshit” right out of her. I thought it was funny. Sebastian also has a big personality and interests outside of moping about being blind. He enjoys skiing and, according to Emma, he would have no problem with presenting on the Lighthouse For the Blind in front of people who aren’t blind, unlike Emma, who struggles with calling attention to her blindness. Which I can understand, what with the awkward questions her sighted classmates give her.

However, Seb also has an issue with hiding or fighting against his low vision in some parts of the story. If Sebastian were the main character, I could understand some of the things he does. However, this does not go well at all with Emma’s arc.

Anyway, Seb and Dee don’t get nearly enough time in the book for me to feel 100% comfortable using them as exceptions.

How Would a Sensitivity Reader Help?

If I were doing a sensitivity read for this book, I would suggest including more about Seb and Dee and the school for the blind. I would have explained that the way the story sidelines them shows Emma is not okay associating with her blind friends. I would have asked for more backstory, more contrast between them and the main character, and possibly a few more blind characters Emma met at the school for the blind.

If the writer was insistent on having Emma go blind in an accident, I would have suggested reducing the time she spent depressed and shifting the focus from her blindness to her traumatic accident. I would have had the author work harder to separate the two, even if it took Emma a while to do so. I would have also suggested reducing Emma’s remarks or have them called out. For example, her comments about not being able to get a job or beautiful schools being lost on blind people. Sebastian would have been excellent in this role.

I would have worked with her to either get rid of or subvert the list of stereotypes. Most of them are easy fixes.

I would have told her blind people don’t use canes in their houses. I would have given suggestions for assistive technology for Seb to use. I would have helped her with the section on trauma and blindness, reducing or erasing a lot of the issues I included there. I would have suggested giving Emma an arc that isn’t entirely about adjusting to blindness, even if her story starts with going blind.

I probably would have seemed nicer about my feedback because the author still had opportunity to make changes.

The author could have done more research on stereotypes and cane usage, but I think there is an important lesson here about the benefits of sensitivity readers.

In the end, a sensitivity reader would have fixed most of the problems in this story, despite the amount of research the author did. Research cannot always teach you everything and that is where a sensually or authenticity reader comes in. Moreover, there is a certain respect in involving communities you are representing. In paying them in money or exposure. In listening to their voices and respecting what they say. If the author was willing to learn Braille and sit with blind people to learn about canes and technology, why did she stop at getting sensitivity readers? Why does it feel like she didn’t want to include the blind community in any meaningful way?

I hope this helps someone.

-BlindBeta

#blind person reviews a review tag #book talk ; let’s review published books #review #blind representation #blind #blind characters #writing blind characters #trauma narrative #stereotypes #blind tropes #eye trauma #ableism

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akirosama777 · 3 years

Text

If nothing brings me joy and I always feel quite hollow, does that mean I've died inside already because I refused to follow...

Every person in the world who seems to skate, to flutter by... while the music fills my hollow ears and bleeds from glassy eyes?

Am I worth the amount of energy that I never seem to have, while the mother I once called a friend goes out to poison herself and die?

And I stand here in the bleakness of a hollow, brittle world, while I pick up all of the pieces that she left when she unfurled...

I am broken and I'm bleeding... I have nothing left to give, but the love I'd once begun to give, and barely alive to live.

I was beautiful once... I had a dream... had a goal or two in mind... but I'm sitting here in the broken wake that her destruction left behind.

But it began way before my time, began with a little girl... my mom... and her grandpa, such a piece shit, let's called the bastard, "Tom,"

Took from her, her innocence, shattered her life apart, sent her down a road of agony, and her father killed her heart.

When he sent her far away at the behest of a beastly cunt, sent her to a boarding school, a common parental stunt.

And her life began at 11 when she'd had it all ripped away, sent her down that road of agony in blood and tears was paved.

Then at 16 she met a Jewish man, who with her had his way, then abandoned her with two children on one fateful Christmas day...

But she picked up the pieces, worked 3 jobs, she became addicted to a couple of drugs... met my father in a satanic band, acting like a thug.

So when she fell in love with him, got him to change his ways, both of them kicked the drugs they'd started and set out on another day...

She soon became again pregnant with my father's first born son, and he tried to kill the baby, with a doctor... not a gun...

Told her if she loved him badly, loved him half as much as she'd said, that she'd abort that fetus and remove its tiny head.

But she didnt... and he stayed... later giving birth to me... but that's not the last of her children... I was only number three.

Then as I grew he would abuse me, threaten, beat and apparently molest... then she had my little brother but he'd never face these tests...

As I began to mature and grow, I could see the patterns form, and my mind became a labyrinth as the alters would soon be born.

And at 6 I tried to end it... but my little brother was there... just one of the many treasures that kept me from joining the City of Air.

And he saved me... I don't know why, but he removed the chord I would choose... saved me from my madness as the alters began to fuse.

All the while my mother from her past she'd grown quite numb... and my father kept her helpless, kept her silent... kept her dumb.

My older brother fell to drugs and disappeared one day... right around the time, eleven I think, where I realized I'm gay...

And my sister fell to young love, to a man who started fires... and my mother fell to drinking when the divorce set forth in ire...

Sent my sister too to heroin and my mother to her dark, while my brother depended greatly on my ability to endure the harsh...

So I shouldered all that hatred... shouldered all the pain inside... let the alters guide me forward through the labyrinth in my mind.

I pushed forward for my brother until my little sister was born... as my mother found another man who left her completely forlorn.

And another life depended on the strength I'd come to own... after all the pain of a father, who's approval was never shown.

I was broken, I was bleeding, I was yearning for a hand... never found it... never searched, for on my own I had to stand.

Now my brother... little brother, grown and turned into a guy, who too had shouldered pain and suffering likely due to mine.

And my sister, little sister, worst of all had witnessed decay... and was tortured by a mother who'd been through so much hate and pain...

But im here now... for my sisters... for my brothers best I can... all five of me are standing and I've grown into a man...

But I'm broken... fuck... im broken... and my mother now she's gone... left my darling little sister on a strangers dying lawn.

And I'm picking up the pieces... trying so hard to hold me up... trying so hard to remember but the memories are scuffed.

Yeah this story's probably cliche... im sure you've all heard it once before... heard about a broken persona raped and bloodied on the floor...

Yeah, you've probably already heard it... probably seen it on a show... nothing shocks you people anymore, when it's something you already know.

I'm so certain that it's pointless to write these words and cry... while my mothers out there drugging and likely about to die.

And my sister... my poor little sister... all those years I tried to protect... will soon be here to visit this pathetic, broken mess...

And I'm trying to keep it together... to tell the alters to quiet down... in my brief and silent lucidity in a new and peaceful town...

And despite my anger... sadness... despite the insidious voice of pain... I understand why mother did it... though I know it doesn't explain...

But her life was so much harder... she'd had so much love to give... but the entire world around her let her run into their shivs.

So she tried her best at surviving, passed those lessons on to us... taught us how to keep on fighting but never how to trust.

Now I'm married... and I love him... but I'm broken, hurting, mad... at the life they gave my mother and that treatment from my dad.

I'm so full of rage and agony... so full of hope and full of pain... that's why I can't get to healing... why I cry whenever it rains.

And she's missing... my mothers missing... a person who never could refrain... She went out to numb the agony, the voices in her brain.

And... I empathize. I sympathize... I understand those thoughts... im still fighting... im still trying... Im still battling... distraught...

For my sisters and my brothers I have never touched a drug... for my sisters and my brothers I have never said no to a hug.

For my sisters and my brothers I am fighting yet, so hard... to keep my head above the water and stay away from all the shards...

I won't cut myself again... I won't try suicide to commit. I won't do again what I'd tried to do at least five times... maybe six.

For my father I'll keep fighting... I'll keep being a better man... prove him wrong and keep on going... on his grave I'll one day stand.

For my family that was broken... I'll keep searching for our mom... I'll keep hoping she'll find solace deep within her sorrowful song.

Mom if you're out there somewhere breathing, just know I understand and care... Im still your standing pillar, still your darling baby bear...

For my little sister Anna and for Justin im still here... I'll do my best to outlive them and watch them live out all their years...

I will never let this agony... from my health or lack there of... push me down to join the army of the defeated by the drugs.

I will never let this anger, let this rage or let this pain, push me to the point again where I grow more alters in my brain.

I'll keep fighting for my dogs... keep on fighting for my man. Keep on fighting for my sisters... and for my brother's I will stand.

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amusedyan · 3 years

Text

Monthly Meetings

A Peaky Blinders commission!

Words: 2k

Once a month there was a meeting. It was something dreaded by both parties, but one that was necessary- it was neutral territory, where mutual suggestions were discussed, grievances were gone over and business settled. No one officially came armed- but that was never written into the deal. Just like it wasn’t discussed that both parties came with a small coterie of their most trusted, each eyeing the other and waiting for a twitchy trigger finger.

Tommy Shelby was never on time to any meeting.

He came early when he was the one to suggest it- to get the drop on the other person, to make an impression. You waste my time, and you have no right to ask anything of me, was the goal there. When told to meet someone, he always made it a point to arrive 5 minutes late, because you aren’t worth my time.

This meant that meeting Alfie Solomons put him in an uncomfortable position- he had to come on time. And sometimes Alfie was there already, smug, or sometimes Alfie was late and dismissive about it, but with a stack of papers and grievances to make up the difference.

Tommy was continually unimpressed with the Jewish mobster, though you could color him surprised when word got out through the grapevine that Alfie Solomon had started going steady with some bird from the local flower shop.

He’d never figure him to be one to settle down, but those same rumors claimed that he ws continually trailing after her. Considering how…temperamental his associate could be, Tommy could believe it.

When Alfie actually entered the restaurant, Tommy reflected that the rumors must be true because the man was practically glowing. More importantly though, his usual stack of gripes was noticeably absent.

“Tommy-boy!” The man grunted, taking his seat at the table. There was already whiskey poured- courtesy of Tommy, of course.

“Alfie,” Tommy greeted, watching the man settle.

It was such a waste of his time to come here, and it took active work not to lose his temper about it. He could be home now

“So, to business. Would you like to begin?” Tommy offered magnanimously.

Alfie drank from his glass and winced at the taste. “Shit, that is,” he mused, shaking his head. “How’ve you been, Tommy? How’s life treated you?”

Suspicion colored Tommy’s thoughts. What was Solomons up to? Small talk wasn’t part of the meeting, ever. As if reading his thoughts, Alfie chuckled. “Don’t be like that, Shelby. I’ve been advised to try diplomacy.”

“By your new conquest?” Tommy countered. The expression on Alfie’s face closed off, and no longer was he looking at a man blatantly in love and feeling charitable to the whole world for it. It made things much easier to deal with. But a moment later, a sly smile crept across Alfie Solomon’s face, and Tommy wasn’t much fond of that expression.

“You’d know all about conquests, wouldn’t you, Tom?” Alfie folded his hands across his midsection and leaned back against his seat, leveling Tommy with a look just as cold.

Fury unfolded, and beside that, fear. What did that mean? Who had talked?

Chuckling, Alfie waved it off. “Now, there’s no need for that look, my good man. There’s been whispers, same as there have been for me. About a pretty girl. What’s her name?”

“We aren’t here to discuss women, Alfie.” Tommy said flatly, trying not to growl. From the corner of his eye, he could see Finn watching intently. He was waiting for a signal. No, he needed to reign it in.

Alfie was just intent on pushing his buttons though, grinning broadly, damn near leering at Tommy. “Well, her name’s Margaret.” His finger drummed against the glass, the ring he was wearing clinking methodically. “I doubt her name’s in your network, yeah? Every fucking thing else, but not that.” He shook his head. “Beautiful name.” And there was that lovesick look again.

“Is that all?” Tommy asked. What would it take to get the meeting back on track? Alfie eyed him, and reached into his coat-

Finn and Isaiah were drawing their guns, Alfie’s men were responding-

“SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” Alfie boomed, stilling the room. Tommy saw that what he’d withdrawn was his wallet.

“What are you planning, Solomons?” He asked, withdrawing a cigarette from his case.

The Camden bastard rolled his eyes and withdrew a photo. “Here,” he grunted, “have a look at this.” He handed it over to Tommy.

And honestly the last thing that Tommy expected to see was the image of a young woman posing for the camera. Rather lewdly, to put it mildly. Like a whore if you wanted to be blunt.

“My Margaret,” pride dripped from Solomons’ voice, like he hadn’t just shown off the parts of a woman that only her husband would see.

Tommy weighed his answers- would Solomons light up with fury if he complimented the woman? Or would he be offended if he didn’t? The trouble was that you never knew with him. He took a contemplative drag of his cigarette.

“Lovely,” he settled on.

Alfie scowled. “Oh like yours is any better,” he taunted. “C’mon, let’s see ‘er then.”

“I don’t have pictures of my woman on me, Alfie.” Tommy said, unable to stop the slight condescension from creeping into his tone, like he was talking to a child, or else someone very simpleminded.

“Well why the fuck not? How’m I s’posed to know if this woman exists, eh?” Alfie accused, smacking the table.

This was all very confusing honestly. What the hell was he playing at? “I didn’t claim she was real.”

“What man doesn’t have a picture of the woman he loves?”

“What man carries filthy pictures of his?”

“Oi mate, those are fuckin art!” Alfie argued with surprising vehemence. It was a strange hill to make a stand on, but hey, he could relate.

“Whatever you say, Alfie,” Tommy sighed and blew out another cloud of smoke.

It was raining now. Storm clouds had been gathering all of yesterday, and he’d been able to taste the moisture, along with the filth in the city air. Rain was ugly here, didn’t clean a fuckin’ thing. He found himself thinking, longingly of the estate. The Shelby Estate, a grander name than something like Arrow House. But little things like a name change kept your feet on the ground. Sylvia would be there, reading. It was raining, so she couldn’t ride today.

At first she’d hated being in the house. She’d wanted to be back in Birmingham. Always liked the action, wanted to support him. It had been charming before, but now that they were together, it couldn’t be tolerated. Too many risks.

“Are you fucking ignoring me, Tommy-boy?” Alfie’s voice was dangerous now, angry and short. Shit. He stubbed out the remains of his smoke in the ashtray.

“No, Alfie, I’m not ignoring you,” he said on the exhale. Clearly, he reflected, nothing was going to get done with this meeting. It was a shame, but at least that meant things were secure where they stood.

Either Solomons was happy or about to betray him again.

“So, I’ve told you about my Margaret, tell me about your girl.” Alfie ordered, pouring another drink.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Tom said, but at the disbelieving look on Alfie’s face, he shrugged slightly.

“I just don’t understand how a man can have a woman and not want to talk about her. Obviously you’ve heard how proud I am, but you? Are you ashamed?” It sounded like it was amusing- the idea that Tommy Shelby would be ashamed of anything in his life.

But the idea of being ashamed of Sylvia? That struck a nerve and that pissed him off properly.

“I’m not ashamed of her.” He snapped.

Alfie’s grin was positively disgusting. “So she does exist? Well, come now, what’s her name?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he spoke begrudgingly, “Sylvia.”

“Sylvia, aye.” He nodded, turning it over. “She a gypsy like you?”

“No. She is not a gypsy.�� Eye contact was key. “It wouldn’t matter either way.”

“So why don’t you talk about her? I could talk all day about mine, as I’m sure that you’ve noticed,” of course he had. “You move her in yet?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Tommy mocked, making Alfie roll his eyes.

“Neither of us are gentlemen, Tom, no matter how you fuckin’ pretend. I moved Margaret in almost right away, you know? We just, we just had this connection- I saw her and I wanted her. Sent her gifts every day, came into the store when I could- her smiles, they lit up my fuckin’ life.”

“I’ve never known you to be so open about your business, Alfie. Aren’t you worried that someone might overhear?” It wasn’t a threat, not at all, not for once. This hit a little too close to home for it to be anything more than idle curiosity, and luckily Solomons knew it.

“No, mate. I need her to know how much I love her. And I need other people to know. Because if someone thinks that they can hurt her? I will…” he laughed, and it didn’t sound sane at all, but it didn’t bother Tommy, “well fuck, I think I’d burn the fuckin’ city down. But,” and he looked at Tommy, and that affable, unstable mask came off for a moment, and Tommy was looking at the emptiness that came from the war, the same emptiness in every soldier who’d been in the field, “but I think you know that, don’t you Tom?” He sighed and shook his head. “I figured, hell, if anyone on this Earth knew what I felt- how far I’d go- it’d be you.. And you do, don’t you?”

Tommy thought about Sylvia. He always thought about Sylvia.

He did horrible things on a daily basis. What would he do if something happened to her?

And the thing was, Tommy didn’t even need to ask himself that question. He’d known the moment that he’d seen her what he’d do for her, what he’d already done. She was safe, that was what he told himself, she was under constant watch, by men he trusted, where he didn’t need to worry about someone running off with her, or an accident, or any of the things that could take her away.

“And you just keep her in an apartment?” He muttered.

“How else would I see her?” Alfie countered evenly. “I take it you don’t?”

Tommy didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to, not in the context of the question.

“No, no, the way I see it, it’s better that I can keep an eye on ‘er. I get to come home to a nice meal, lovely company, and everyone knows what’ll happen if they fuck with her. You keep yours,” and he pointed at his business associate, “in some isolated fuckin’ kingdom and what happens? People get curious. You can’t see her as often. She goes missing. There’s no fuckin’ neighbors to pay to keep watch.” And hell, that was actually a very good point, but he didn’t want to hear that from Solomons.

“Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Oh I fuckin’ disagree, mate. You don’t get that shit in hand-“

“And what might happen, Solomons?” Tommy asked calmly. He knew what this was- this was Solomons trying to knock him off his game, disturb him. And why? What the hell did Solomons have up his sleeve? “What are you planning?”

“Well I dunno mate.” The glass in Solomons’ hand was empty now, “what do you think I’m planning?”

“I think you’re just being a prick.” The other man barked out a laugh.

“Fair enough, so- grievances.”

And there it was.

When it was over, Tommy went over the meeting- all of it, bullshit included- in his head, thinking it over.

Alfie Solomons was a two faced bastard.

But Tommy found himself making plans to go visit Sylvia as a surprise, nonetheless.

#yandere peaky blinders #yandere alfie solomons #yandere tommy shelby

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sopxhiea · 3 years

Text

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The infamous wild girl spends a night with Alfie and he soon seems to forget about her, or it seems until they run into each other in a familiar setting and this time, she’s the one pulling at his ropes.

Part 1

“Bite me..” “Where?”

The inside of the gallery is empty.

Other than the canvases laying around, splashes of paint on different surfaces and the many used rugs on the floor, there’s nothing else. There’s a hum that goes around, the quiet tone of a voice that fills the empty space. It’s a song from a movie, the one that Annabelle played for the younger girls in the school.

It’s hard to tell what time it is, the sun is not so cheerful these days. The sleeves of the dress you have on are covered with paint but you’re not the one to care. Most of the clothes you own have splashes of paint on them anyway. There’s the smell of oil paint but it’s familiar, there’s comfort in it.

You recall the bloke who gave you this place.

Some of the lads were so rich that they didn’t mind giving away a small property for the pretty lady who was willing to kiss them. In many occasions, you had been that lady. That was as far as you had taken with that particular lad, he still thought you’d open your legs for him but you just kept him waiting, on his toes like most men liked to be even though they wouldn’t admit it.

The etiquette classes start in an hour, you realise once you have fully grasped what time it is. It takes half an hour to get to the boarding school, a little more to prepare yourself for the scoldings you are going to have to listen to for showing up in a paint covered dress. There’s the meeting after that, the generous donors are invited to the house for an event.

It’s to show appreciation, Annabelle says, but you know the school’s just trying to snag more money from the rich. It’s like that night where they’d paired up girls with people twice their age to show their ‘good manners’ when it just meant that they needed them to be out of their hair for the new youngings. The men were mostly in their thirties, rich and known around the area, although they were all unattractive and inappropriate.

Yours hadn’t been though.

Alfie was his name, you recalled. He had blue eyes that were curious at times but he mostly reminded you of a calm ocean that could sweep you at any given moment. He’d taken you to his house that night, being a saviour of sorts and save you from the wrath of the head lady.

He had turned out to be nothing like you’d expected. His house was fairly large, and you’d seen your fair share of lavish houses. The furniture was mostly made of wood, the calm image of the interior suited him and it was easy to pinpoint that he, for a sole fact, lived on his own. He’d told you his maid had gone home but you could help yourself to anything you’d wanted and he had stared at you the whole time you played with his dog.

He wasn’t rude but intense. He’d asked you questions through the night, some of them were answered whereas for some, you just clicked your tongue. You had played a game of question for a question and he’d done the same, answering only a handful of what you’d asked.

But both of you had heard things on the street.

The chatter never stopped and especially not when it came to people that stood out, which was Alfie and you. You’d heard of the jewish gangster, too scary to even have a proper look at his face, they said. He’d killed many before, you knew that for a fact from the way he had looked at you when you’d asked if he’d killed over a dozen people. People didn’t talk to him, they just got out of his way and prayed that he didn’t pick on them. He had a temper, it was easy to tell from the way his calm side would disappear but he had been nothing but kind to you.

He’d also heard things about you. It was impossible not to, you thought, especially when you were someone like Alfie. You were the infamous girl every cockney banged on about, it was the way you moved or your million dollar smile he’d heard about but he hadn’t believed in any of it. He was proven wrong when he’d seen you, you were much younger than he’d thought but had a side to you that he’d only seen in reckless men during the war, the kind of people who’d go out knowing they wouldn’t see the end of it.

You didn’t think much of the way his eyes would soften when they landed on you.

Daydreams were not your thing, trouble was and you were known for it. You knew that Alfie was a cruel man in a harsh line of business and that night was the one time your paths had crossed and it would remain that way. Even though you couldn’t deny the fact that he sparked your curiosity.

A thrilling one he was, Alfie.

You had met your share of men, as most of the city knew, who were all dull and rather boring. Alfie seemed calculated, cold and distant at first and he was all those things but it was easy to see the layers he had, he needed time to peel back all of them to reveal a truer version of himself and that was a challenge you were willingly up to.

Although you doubted he’d come around again.

It had been a lucky day for you when he’d showed and saved you from hours of endless posh talk but that happened rarely, you knew. You had no problem with the life you had now: parties, sneaking out and making trouble. As far as you could tell, the lads liked it and that’s all you needed to get out of the boarding school with the excuse of having a date.

You’d had a lot of them until now but no one stuck. You were young, that was no deniable but the night was younger. Your reputation preceded you anyway, there was no reason to hide that and especially not when you’d turned out to be the opposite of everything the ladies in the school expected from you. It was fun, to say the least.

After making it to the school and hearing an earful from Annabelle about just how unlike a lady you were, you went up to change for the event. The classes had begun anyway and you didn’t want to attend. The mirror in your room soon showed the reflection of someone you knew, you liked her.

The blush colored dress had been deep in your closet somewhere with the delicates, it reached just under your knees with the silk material. The weather was cold for a slip dress, or so you figured so a beige cardigan was thrown over the dress and your hair was left unruly, the way it was after a shower. You didn’t bother scrubbing your hands hard enough in the shower to get the paint off, it looked better this way.

And so you made your way downstairs and saw that some of the most generous donors had already made their way into the large salon near the entrance. There were pastries and little treats everywhere, no drink other than red wine was served and you realised, almost all of the people who’d showed up were men. They liked to look at pretty young things, you knew, so they had given away more money than they could realised and you were sure some of the older girls would marry these rich men, it was regular occurrence.

Just when you were about to enter the salon and say hi to couple of these said gentlemen, you felt a harsh tug on your arm as Annabelle made you face her older face.

“Y/N, my dear..” she spoke in a soft tone. My dear? She never called you that. You squinted your eyes and didn’t say anything but she kept on talking anyway. “There’s a guest coming in a few minutes...He requested your company through the evening.” she said, the tone of her voice unfamiliar to you. Was it jealousy Annabelle was feeling?

“You’ll behave, won’t you?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. It was no. You nodded regardless before she spoke again but didn’t realise a big car, bigger than the ones the other gentlemen came in pulled up right in front of the school and a cane stepped out.

“Use your words, dear?” she said one last time while not letting go of your arm. She was behaving suspiciously but you chose to ignore it, it wasn’t your problem.

“Yes, Madam.” you half-whispered but before she could scold you furthermore, you heard a familiar voice. The one that had been hanging at the back of your mind since he’d left.

“’ere’s the lass I came to see.” he spoke, your eyes widening before you gained your composure again. It would take a lot for him to impress you, he knew that.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Solomons.” Annabelle spoke and you shot him a knowing smirk. He was putting on a plan like he did when your teachers were around but in private, it was you who played the devil.

“Yeah, it ‘s. Why the fuck is everybody inside, then?” he asked and you chuckled, not low enough so it made Annabelle turn to you and then to the broad gentlemen who was currently drinking your figure in a dainty slip dress.

“Well, the weather’s not been the upmos-”

Annabelle started speaking but Alfie just took a few steps towards you and she immediately stopped. His hand was tugging at his beard, your amused orbs met his and you eyed the hat afterwards.

All along, Alfie ignored the way Annabelle’s eyes widened. He had no manners, she concluded but it’s what made him better than the rest. He had no time for bullshit and you came to realise that once more as he stood right in front of you, hand around his cane while the other brushed through his beard. You had to look up to meet his eyes as he was twice your size but you were fairly short and he was larger than the average person.

“‘ello, lass.” he said, a hint of a smirk on his plump lips hidden between layers of scruff. You tore your eyes away from the dreamy pink clouds and met his orbs with a smile.

“Nice hat.” you said, a giggle at the end of the sentence. You didn’t want to do the proper greeting and all that, you knew he was here to see you so why waste time?

You saw Annabelle go crazy at your words, since you hadn’t said ‘good afternoon, mister’ with a fucking curtsy like she’d taught you on numerous occasions. You’d just smiled sheepishly and made a remark about his hat. Alfie realised it soon after your eyes drifted away to the old lady and he decided to remedy the cause for the rest of the evening.

“Her, yeah, she’ll be with me for the rest of the fuckin’ evenin’. That a problem?” he spoke, turning to Annabelle while your eyes caught his rings again. You had traced his tattoo the last time you’d seen him but you wanted to feel the golden rings against your skin.

She nodded, almost frantically and you chuckled with an unimpressed face. She was nothing but screams at you but when a rich guy told her something, it was like she has lost all power and became an obedient servant of sorts. You caught the flickers of jealousy mixed with worry in her orbs when he looked at you again.

He was dangerous, you knew that for a fact as most of London did, too. He wasn’t so easy to the eye, which was why he lit something up in you. He looked strong, enough to crush a man’s windpipe with one hand but that didn’t worry you, he didn’t seem like the type to hurt a woman.

“Shall we?” you spoke in the sweetest you could muster. He didn’t know where you’d be taking him but he shot the curly haired bloke,Ollie, a look and he disappeared in a matter of seconds as Annabelle also took the hint.

He offered his arm to you and you smiled wickedly, taking it still. The truth above it all was that Alfie had come back for more. He didn’t just pursue women. They were beautiful to look at but most of them were too scared of his reputation, which was mostly made up of things that were true, to come talk to him. He had his share of women around brothels but that was it.

His line of work didn’t permit it anyway, he’d be putting someone innocent in danger if she were to become his in a public manner. Most women until now had been a bit too hesitant, not voicing their opinions on matters but just agreeing with what he would say but you didn’t do that.

He knew you had a reputation as the girl who’d steal the air from your lungs and it was true, he had been proven of the fact the first time he’d met you. You danced in a way that made Miriam close her eyes and Alfie gulp, your smile was far too innocent in a way that made Alfie think that he was now dancing with the devil.

You were much younger, too but that didn’t bother him that much.

You took him up the stairs and he felt like he was in a brothel again until you made your way into the semi-large tea room. There were wooden shelves and paintings around and a tray. This was where you’d come to read and where Annabelle would have guests of high importance. The decoration was much more simple, he noted as he sat down on one of the wooden chairs.

“Tea?” you asked and he nodded. His eyes got stuck on your hips as you swayed them while walking towards he tray.

He was looking at the devil herself now.

Alfie didn’t shy away from danger, everyone knew that but you were a different kind of danger. You could very well ruin Alfie, without even getting in his bed and he knew it, maybe that was why he wanted to find out just what you would do with a man of his wrath.

You noted the way his eyes roamed around your body, stayed on your hips for a while and then focused on your hands that were still slightly covered in paint. You handed him his cup and he nodded as your hands brushed against his in an obvious manner.

“Yer hands..” he spoke, the first word to come out of his mouth since he came into the room and you settled on the chair, leg crossed in a manner Annabelle had labelled as ‘unladylike’.

You didn’t break eye contact while speaking, you knew the state of your hands. “I was painting.” you spoke in a soft manner and Alfie hated it, he hated the affect you had on him and how he’d been trying to get rid of the stiffness between his legs for the past two weeks since he’d seen you dance the way you had.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Solomons?” you asked in a sweet tone that made his attention snap back from his manly troubles to your shining orbs. A gangster of his reputation didn’t just come around for a cup of tea, or so you guessed.

“Ya’ know who I am, lass?” he asked, the feeling of deja vu washing over you when you recalled the first encounter you had with him where he’d asked the same exact question. You still didn’t have a clue.

“Not really. Some said that you were a cruel gangster but that’s not too hard to believe.” you speak, eyeing the way his eyes look at yours with some kind of feeling in them but it’s hard to read the man.

“Why’s that?” he asked again, hands moving around the air towards you but you had no intentions of answering.

“You always ask this many questions?” you spat back but he was quick to battle it out.

“You always this fuckin’ feisty?” his voice was tailored with amusement behind it.

You smiled then, a genuine one and he felt the need to memorise the lines of your face but soon reminded himself of the man he was and the young little thing you were.

Alfie has called beforehand to make sure that you’d be in, that you wouldn’t be in a class or whatever it was that they made you do here, he wasn’t quite sure. He knew a couple men in his business who ended up getting married to girls from this school, they were proper and posh, raised the way a high society lady would be but he ceased to see any of that in you. And he wasn’t keen on seeing you in another gangster’s arm so he figured he should act quick.

“Ain’t ya’ supposed to be in a fuckin’ class?” he asked, not touching the cup you’d given him but drinking you instead. He thought it was the better option out of the two.

You appeared annoyed for a second, your pretty features seemingly tense and Alfie lost his breath but was quick to gather himself. You were truly as beautiful as they’d said. “You were the one who asked for me in the first place so I should be the one asking the questions.” you spat out, not daring to break eye-contact as he tugged at his beard.

“Ask away, luv.” he said, a smirk on his lips as he spoke. He was toying with you, in a way that made you feel all bothered which only happened when you felt like you didn’t have the upper hand. You always had the upper hand.

“What do you want?” you asked, in an innocent voice which threw Alfie off. You were fighting his wrath with fire, the kind of thing Alfie wasn’t accustomed to.

He didn’t speak.

He wasn’t sure, if he were to tell the truth. He felt drawn to you, not like a moth to a flame but it felt as though you had gone through the same thing he had. You had lost something, he could tell but he didn’t know what it was and the exterior you had built yourself to cover that: the filthy dance moves, the beautiful smile and the trouble that always seemed to follow you, intrigued him. It made him wanna observe you.

And he wasn’t even going to mention how he had envisioned you in inappropriate scenarios, that was for him to know at the moment.

You spoke, cutting through the silence with a deep knife as you used your words to entice him further, even though he was already fucked. “You want a fuck, a kiss, a dance or just to talk?”

He didn’t like the words you said, they didn’t fit your pretty little mouth but it just aroused him more. You didn’t seem like the obedient type, although he didn’t need to come all the way to the school to know that, he could’ve just asked around the pubs and they’d tell him all about the wild girl who went home with a different lad every night, most of them left bruised now.

And he had done that.

They’d told him about that one time where you’d broken a man’s nose just because he had tried to touch you inappropriately, you could dance naked and it still didn’t give them the permission to be near you. They’d told him about your uncle, your deceased parents and how your uncle was getting married to a young thing soon, about five years older than you and how it had made you drink more lately and dance less, although you did both equally well.

But he wanted to hear them from you.

“None of that.” he said, one sentence and done with the conversation. You held his gaze, trying to read him but it was not so hard to realise that Alfie was nothing like the ordinary men.

You were tired, he wasn’t telling you what he wanted either. You sighed, wanting use vulgar words but you didn’t like it when he almost winced when you did it earlier. You weren’t a dainty lady but you’d put up with it for the sake of trying to get him to talk.

“Bite me...” you whispered, under your breath on purpose so that he wouldn’t hear it but he had and you hated the little glisten of amusement that appeared on his blue orbs.

“Where?” he asked, not missing a beat and you shot him a smirk. He wasn’t a regular one you were dealing with. Men usually wanted a fuck, open your legs or a nice dance, something to satisfy them. You wouldn’t give them the first option. Unlike what many of the inhabitants of London believed, you were still an amateur in the bedroom but you knew damn well to kiss and dance enough to keep them on your toes.

That’s what made it exciting.

“Are you going to take me to your house then?” you asked, nicer this time. You desperately wanted to be in the big place again, play with cyril and maybe even have a look at that library he had told you about but didn’t let you go in.

“Ya’ wanna come to my fuckin’ house?” he asked, clearly taken back but you just smiled.

“Well, seeing as you’re not here for a quick fuck or a chat, I don’t see why not.” you giggled at the end and spoke again before he could, you needed to speak or else the man was looking at you like his last meal before his death. “And I’d like to see Cyril again.”

If Alfie was honest, he’d like that too. It had been a while since there had been a woman in the house, let alone one that came just for cyril. He had his housekeeper but that was about it, he didn’t see a good reason why not but he was busy. Alfie was always busy.

“How ‘bout I pick ya’ up, hm?” he spoke and didn’t wait for an answer. “Seein’ as I’m fuckin’ busy now, yeah, I can have ya’ picked up tonight.” he spoke and you waited for a moment.

They were all excuses.

You wouldn’t go to his house for the second time just to play with cyril, you wanted to play with him and push Alfie’s buttons. He seemed calm as you assessed the offer. No one usually said no to Alfie, including the ladies he’d offered to have around.

Much to his surprise and dismay, you shook your head. A low smile resided on your lips as you spoke to him. He was in trouble, deep trouble.

“You told Annabelle that I’d be accompanying you for the rest of the evening..” you spoke and he gulped, women were far too dangerous. “..How bout I do that?”

It could go many ways.

He saw the visions of you bent over his desk or maybe his bed, he hadn’t decided yet as you’d chant his name over and over again until he knew you wouldn’t be able to move properly the next morning but you were not predictable, he didn’t even know what he’d do if he took you to the bakery.

But he wanted to see, desperately.

And you were out ten minutes later, out to his said bakery and a world filled with the kind of danger you weren’t quite familiar with.

------

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

a/n: I read all of the sweet comments on the first part and thank you!!! I’m so happy that you guys liked it and this will be a multi-chapter series so i’ll keep them coming! Lemme know what you thought of the chapter <3

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 3 years

Text

The Love Yet Known Part 3

Summary: Tommy Shelby needs to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of his family. So he concocts a plan to marry off his sister to the one and only Alfie Solomons.

Late that summer after everything was settled with Luca Changretta, Tommy invited Eliza and Alfie to visit Arrow House in Warwickshire. Since Tommy was the one who initiated it, he figured it would be a nice, quiet few days. Charlie clearly missed his aunt dearly. The little boy was used to always having her around to entertain him. He always asked after her and became cross when Tommy said she was married, that’s why she didn’t live with them anymore.

“Well, when is she not going to be married?” Charlie would ask.

Tommy just chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think there will ever be a day when that happens, my boy.”

No one was blind to the growing affection Eliza and Alfie had from their wedding day on. In fact, it was quite a sight to see when the two were together. Such a shy thing like Eliza had a calming effect on Alfie, who rarely seemed to be in a sour mood when she was around. Likewise, he seemed to bring Eliza out of her shell a little bit. She had many friends in Camden and found herself more active in the community than she ever imagined she would be.

Tommy never gloated, well he tried not to, but he liked to boast about how he made the match between Eliza and Alfie.

Still, Arthur and a few of the other Peaky boys were having a hard time accepting Alfie into their sacred spaces. They considered him their sister’s husband, not a brother-in-law. They had a petty habit of writing to Eliza and addressing it with her maiden name. Arthur felt sick to his stomach if he saw his dear sister’s name next to a name like Solomons.

Alfie wasn’t very hospitable either. He wouldn’t let go of old habits of trying to rile Arthur up. He only ever invited a few of Eliza’s family members to visit them in Camden. None of them even knew the married couple shared a beachfront home in Margate. Alfie would shudder to think if the Shelbys got an idea of inviting themselves over for a holiday.

But all things considered, life was going well.

~~~~~~~

Alfie helped Eliza out of the car. “This place gets bigger every time I visit; I swear it does.” He muttered.

His wife laughed softly. “Well, hopefully, you don’t get lost.”

Charlie came running outside to greet his aunt. “Auntie Liza!”

“Hello!” Eliza beamed and stooped down to pick her nephew up.

“Oh, love, be careful.” Alfie winced. It was a good thing Eliza wasn’t easily irritated. Because once Alfie found out she was pregnant, he became overprotective. He insisted on carrying things for her, let her sleep in as long as she liked, and had someone come in to take over any housekeeping duties that she might’ve done. Not that Eliza was keen on keeping anything clean anyway. Alfie knew he was being annoying, but he wanted to make sure that his child and the mother of that child was well kept. He felt it was his duty to ensure their safety and health.

Charlie gave Alfie a side-eye. “Hi, Uncle Alfie.” He said in a less jovial voice.

“You well, Charlie?”

“Mhm.” The little boy shrugged.

Eliza set him down and reached for her suitcase but Alfie stepped in. “I’ve got it. Go on ahead.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and followed Charlie inside to find Tommy.

~~~~~~~~~

At dinner that night, it was just the four of them. Tommy, Lizzie, Alfie, and Eliza. They chatted casually about things, nothing too consequential. Then, during dessert, Eliza felt it was a good enough time to tell them.

“So, Alfie and I have news.” Eliza reached for her husband’s hand under the table and gave him a smile.

“You’re pregnant.” Tommy finished for her.

Alfie’s brow furrowed. “And what on Earth gave you that impression?” He snapped. He knew how important and special it was for Eliza to tell everyone about the baby, so Alfie was a bit ticked off that Tommy had affectively ruined the moment.

Tommy glanced up from his whiskey glass. “Am I wrong?”

“Well…no.”

“But how did you know?” Alfie asked again.

“Because of the way you’ve been acting around her. Anyone could tell if they’ve known you long enough, Alfie.” Tommy answered casually. “I haven’t seen her carry anything at all today.”

Eliza just chuckled. “Well, I didn’t know we made it that obvious.”

“You and I will have a lot to talk about then,” Lizzie spoke up.

“Why? Oh…oh really?” Eliza’s eyes lit up. “You’re pregnant?”

The two sisters-in-law got up to hug one another. Surely it was special knowing there was someone else walking a similar path. After all, it’s not like their husbands knew what it felt like.

“Well, seems we’ll be coming around much more often then, Tom.” Alfie sighed. Well, if his wife was happy, then he would drive her back and forth from London to Warwickshire as many times as she liked.

~~~~~~~~~

Lizzie gave birth to Ruby when Eliza was still seven months along. Seeing and holding the baby girl in her arms was such a lovely occasion. It was almost like a hint at what was to come. It would be much more surreal though, that’s what Lizzie told her.

“It’s so strange holding her. All of a sudden, you’ve got this little life. One you’ve waited so long to hold and she’s yours to care for and love. It’s really overwhelming.” Her sister-in-law tried to explain as best she could.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Now all there was to do was wait a little longer. The nursery was all set up and ready. Meanwhile, the midwife was on call whenever the first signs of labor came.

In the blistering cold of February, Eliza was due any day. Alfie started to work from home just in case she went into labor and he needed to be there for her. He didn’t get out of bed as early, but he was awake much earlier than his wife on most mornings.

It was a peaceful time where he could just bask in the warm feelings of holding his beloved wife close to him, all cuddled up in bed. Cyril keeping their feet warm at the end of the bed. His soft breathing sometimes syncing up to Eliza’s heartbeat.

Alfie would wrap an arm around her waist, resting a hand over her swollen stomach. There, he could feel his child kicking. The emotions that overcame him when he felt that little pressure against his hand were indescribable. He was thrilled, excited, nervous, afraid. He didn’t know how he would measure up as a father. Didn’t know how his line of work would impact the life of his child.

Every possible worst-case scenario had run through his head since Eliza told him she was pregnant. His worst fear was losing her and the baby. Or losing the baby and having to cope with their shared grief. Or losing Eliza and having to be a single father while grieving his wife.

The possibilities kept him up at night, practically driving him mad with anxiety. But then there were the good thoughts. The joy he would feel when he first held his child. The pride of seeing every milestone from first words to first steps.

It was overwhelming to think about and it didn’t help that the wait was making him even more anxious.

~~~~~~~~~

But finally, the day came when Eliza gave birth to a healthy baby boy. It was a relief to hear that his wife and son were both going to be perfectly fine. As Alfie climbed the stairs to see them, he felt his hands trembling with anxiety and anticipation.

What if he did something wrong?

What if Eliza thought he wasn’t a good father?

What if he just wasn’t enough?

All the self-deprecating thoughts seemed to vanish into thin air when he saw his son swaddled in his mother’s arms.

Eliza gave her husband a tired smile. “He’s beautiful, Alfie.” She whispered with tears in her eyes.

Alfie walked over to the bed and peered over. “Fucking hell, look at all that hair, aye?” He chuckled with tears welling up in his eyes as well. “Look at him, he’s about as perfect as you can get, ain’t he?” He kissed Eliza’s forehead. “I can’t ever repay you for giving me such a perfect gift.”

“I think you can with a few dozen nappy changes.” She teased back.

“Done deal.” He grinned and gently cradled his son’s head.

“You can hold him.”

Alfie’s nerves pricked at him again as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Eliza gently placed the newborn in his arms, looking over him with such fondness.

“There you are.” He said softly. “Been waiting quite some time for you, mate.”

Eliza rested her cheek on her husband’s shoulder as he spoke to their son. “What should we name him?” She asked.

They had passed around a few names over the course of her pregnancy but none of them particularly stood out to either of them.

“How about Asher?”

“Is that Jewish?” Eliza asked.

Alfie nodded. “Means blessed. Was one of the twelve tribes of Israel, back in ancient times.”

She smiled. Truly, she felt blessed. Not just by the birth of her son, but by everything. She had found her soulmate, fell in love with him, married him, and now produced such a beautiful little boy. Her heart felt so full in her chest. “I love it. I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A month after Asher was born, Eliza brought up the idea of bringing him to Warwickshire to meet her family. Tommy was apparently arranging a dinner to bring the whole family together. That way they could catch up on things without being busy with work and the children could all see their cousins.

Alfie bristled at the idea. It was one thing to spend a couple of days with just Tommy and Lizzie. But to be around the whole Shelby family, it was not a pleasant thought. He almost felt as if he’d be alone, surrounded by people who didn’t quite trust him. People he didn’t really trust either.

“Won’t be a pleasant trip, tryna get there with a newborn.” He thought of the mistake on the fly.

“It’ll be fine, it’s not too far and I’m sure Asher will sleep the whole way there. If he doesn’t then it isn’t the end of the world.” Eliza assumed her husband was just concerned about the baby’s sake.

“Dunno…”

“Then maybe we invite everyone here. It’ll be a little crowded but we’ll make it work.” She suggested to eliminate the idea of traveling.

Having the Shelbys in his space, his territory was an even worse idea. “Tommy’s place is big enough, we ain’t gonna have that many people over here.”

“So…” She looked at him. “Then we’ll go to Tommy’s.”

Alfie didn’t want to outright say he didn’t want to be around her family. He was afraid it might break her heart. But he wasn’t going to pretend that it was a joy to be around them either. He stifled a groan, feeling backed into a corner for sure. “I mean…if it’ll make you happy, love.”

“I want to see Ruby and I want everyone to meet Asher.” She replied, able to hold her ground against him when she chose to. “So yes, it would make me happy.”

There was no arguing that. His wife’s happiness was one of the few things that mattered to him. “Alright then, we’ll go. I won’t be a bother about it.” He promised, earning a smile and a kiss from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Asher slept through most of the car ride over to Warwickshire. Eliza appeared happy to be seeing her family and to introduce them to her son.

The sun was starting to set as they entered the estate. Alfie felt on his guard as he walked in beside Eliza, already hearing the colorful language coming in from the parlor. There was laughing and yelling coming from upstairs, most likely the children playing with one another.

Polly saw them coming in first and rushed over to embrace her niece. “Look at you. Motherhood suits you, my dear.” She turned to Alfie who was holding his son. “And there he is. Looks very healthy. You must be very proud, Alfie.”

“Yeah.” He smiled slightly. Leave it to Polly to get on his good side even when he was tense. “He’s a lot of work, ain’t he, but it’s rewarding.”

Polly could see the hesitation in Alfie’s eyes. He was holding Asher protectively to his chest, his eyes scanning across the room almost looking for potential threats. She decided he would have to warm up to the idea of handing his son over for anyone to hold.

Eliza didn’t appear to catch onto her husband’s discomfort. “Alfie, I’ll take him.”

“S’alright, love. I don’t mind.”

“Well, let Polly hold him for a bit.” She suggested.

“It’s alright,” Polly replied gently to her niece. “You two make yourselves at home. I’ll get you a drink, love. Alfie would you like something?”

“No, thank you.” He replied a bit relieved that Polly hadn’t pushed the matter.

But then Arthur swooped in and gave his sister a bear hug. “Glad you came, chey.”

Eliza giggled and hugged him back. “Hi, Arthur.”

“Good to see ya. Now, where’s the little one, aye?” The eldest Shelby’s eyes settled on Alfie with a look of slight distaste.

Eliza stepped in to try and keep the atmosphere light and festive. “This is Asher, he just turned a month old.” She reached over to adjust the little cap on the newborn’s head. His dark hair was sticking out from underneath it.

“A month already.” Arthur shook his head. “Well, wish we could’ve been there earlier.” He gave his brother-in-law a stern look. As if Alfie was purposefully keeping Eliza hidden away in Camden Town to keep her away from her family.

“Arthur…” She sighed. But it was too late. The powder keg had already been lit.

“Well, mate, it weren’t the easiest delivery. Eliza had to take a bit of time to recover.”

“If Pol had been there like she wanted then maybe it wouldn’t have been so difficult.” Arthur wasn’t standing down from the challenge. In fact, he welcomed a reason to argue.

“Arthur, that’s enough.” His aunt interrupted. “We’ve had this discussion before but it’s over. The baby’s already born.”

But neither man listened to a voice of reason. “She had the best midwife in Camden Town there. Are you insinuating I wouldn’t get the best for me wife?”

“I’m saying you’ve been keeping our sister from seeing her family.”

“She’s got a mind of her own, mate, she can go wherever she wants whenever she wants.” Alfie crossed his arms over his chest.

“Please, will you two just stop?” Eliza begged.

“Did she have a choice when Tommy sold her off to you?” Arthur’s voice raised and Eliza knew she had to step in before the rest of the party started to take notice of the brewing storm between her brother and husband.

“Alright, enough. You two are making a scene and it’s ridiculous.” She took Asher from Alfie’s arms when he was caught off guard and handed the baby to Polly. Before her husband could protest, she grabbed his arm and dragged him into another empty room of Arrow House.

“You’re just going to leave him?” Alfie spat.

“With my aunt who I trust with my life? Yes!” She snapped in an exasperated tone. “What on Earth has gotten into you? I thought this would be a nice visit, I didn’t think I had to tell you to be on your best behavior. But apparently, I should’ve because you’re acting like a child!”

“Your brother started it!” His normally soft-spoken wife gave him a death glare. Alfie backtracked when he realized the childish response was exactly what Eliza was talking about. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I just don’t like him treating me that way. Like I’m some monster who kidnapped you.”

“Oh, Alfie.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him close. “You know Arthur and you know that’s not true. You’ve given me everything and I’ve never been so happy. But we can’t make them see that. If they don’t see it then that’s their fault.” She kissed his cheek. “We know the truth.”

He grumbled. Of course, she was right, seldom was she wrong. It just didn’t help that when they went back to the party, Arthur would still be the same. “M’trying, love.”

“I know you are.” She smiled. “They’re difficult. But you are too.”

He chuckled. There was no arguing that.

“But now Asher is sort of a buffer. You just have to let them hold him.”

Alfie looked disgruntled. He knew intuitively that none of the Shelbys would bring harm to the child. But there was still that protective instinct that he could never totally shake. If he let his guard down, bad things happened. The only time that wasn’t the case was when he was alone with Eliza and Asher. That quiet space where everything good in the world seemed to line up. Nothing outside of their warm home mattered.

“Alright.” He relented. It seemed reasonable that if he played along, the sooner they would be out of there.

Eliza smiled and kissed him softly. “Try to enjoy yourself.” She said before going to return to the party.

~~~~~~~~~

Alfie followed and found Polly was still holding Asher. But Ada and Lizzie were cooing over the baby. Tommy was sat next to his aunt, holding Ruby and smiling at his new nephew. Even Arthur was nearby smiling at Asher.

Alfie did his best not to hover even when his son was passed from relative to relative. It seemed to make Eliza happy to see her family holding her newborn. She spoke proudly about him. The meaning of his name, his blue eyes, how much Cyril adored him, and everything else that had happened in his short life.

After a while, Alfie began to relax slightly. Although he always kept an eye out to see who was holding Asher.

Toward the end of the night, his son was finally placed back in his arms. Asher was fast asleep despite the Shelbys having a good time with a good amount of alcohol. Alfie gently touched his cheek with his thumb. “They can be exhausting, aye?” He murmured quietly. “Better get used to it I suppose. Don’t think they’re going anywhere.”

Asher yawned and shifted slightly in his swaddle.

Alfie glanced up when he heard someone clear their throat. Arthur was standing nearby, a glass of whiskey in hand. “Mind if I sit?” He gestured to the empty armchair near the sofa Alfie was sitting on.

“Ain’t my house, mate.”

Arthur shrugged and sat down. “So, how does it feel, aye? Must get no sleep with him. And Liza, I doubt she ever gets up. Would take a train to wake her when she was younger.”

It was a strange olive branch but Alfie chuckled. “Yeah, it’s tough tryna get her up to nurse him. S’alright though. Never been a big sleeper myself.” He admitted.

“Yeah, war will do that to you.” Arthur agreed after a sip of whiskey.

They were so similar, it was a wonder that they butted heads so often. They were veterans with deep scars, liked to solve problems with their fists, hardly flinched at death, and yet fiercely cared about their kin. But bad blood was hard to wash out, especially in their line of work.

“I’d always be up with Billy when he was that young. It’s good, keeps your mind busy.” He added.

“They’re a good distraction.” Alfie nodded, looking down at his son. “Changes a lot of perspectives on life.”

Arthur looked across the room to see Eliza smiling at him. Of course, she’d put him up to it, insisting that if he wanted to see more of her, he would be nicer to her husband. Arthur complained but she wasn’t hearing it. It seemed that marriage and motherhood had really taught her when to put her foot down. But sitting there with his brother-in-law, Arthur seemed to realize that there wasn’t much else he could do. Here they were, both fathers to a son, both husbands. They were too old to be the vicious fighters they were as young men. It was too tiring.

Alfie came to a similar conclusion. They could fight about the same things that happened so long ago. There wasn’t anything new to argue about. Just the grudges they both held. Which were equally as tiring. “Here.” He held Asher out.

Arthur looked a bit surprised but decided not to make a scene out of it. He set his whiskey glass down and cradled his nephew to his chest. “Looks like Liza when she was a baby.” He chuckled. “She had so much hair. Our mother was shocked. I hope he doesn’t cry as much as she did. God, she was noisier than John ever was.” His eyes saddened at the mention of Eliza’s twin. It felt like ages ago that they’d lost John and yet, it was still so fresh.

“That’s his middle name, you know,” Alfie said. “Asher John.”

Arthur got a little choked up. “He’d be thrilled if he was here.” He tried to laugh off his grief but it was obvious how much it hurt. “Don’t think he’d ever stop bragging about it.”

Eliza came over, so happy to see the two men getting along for the first time ever. She kissed Alfie’s temple as she sat down next to him.

A quiet lull fell over the room. The warm chatter of family radiated with the fire and drinks. Alfie felt his shoulders relax while he wrapped an arm around Eliza’s shoulders. Things could be okay if he allowed them to be. So he did.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomonsxofc #tommy shelby #tommy shelbyxlizzie stark #polly gray #arthur shelby #lizzie stark #charles shelby #ruby shelby #oc #ofc #john shelby #season 4 #season 5 #tom hardy #tom hardy character #tom hardy fanfiction

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evilwickedme · 3 years

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ok so to sum up my feelings for leverage: redemption, season 1(a): (long post warning, there’s a tl;dr at the end)

I knew that Hardison wouldn’t be in most of the season due to Aldis Hodge being a busy bee nowadays, but I didn’t realize that meant he’d only be around for the first two episodes. He was sorely missed, not only because of my attachment to him, but also because he’s usually the grounding factor in the group dynamic, and his role as info guy and tech guy was split evenly between two characters who had their own issues.

That said, Hardison is absolutely a highlight of the two episodes he’s in. his speech about redemption was everything I could’ve hoped for (plus, more evidence for the Jewish!Hardison pile...). I wish we’d gotten to see more of his dynamic with Breanna because what we saw was funny and sweet and we don’t generally get to see Hardison taking care of somebody who so desperately needs taking care of. I hope that Aldis Hodge is around for more episodes in 1(b), because what we’re left with feels a little hollow.

Sticking to original leverage characters for now, for the most part the leverage crew still felt true to the original series as characters, even if the show itself was a little bit confused at times. The actors understand their characters and embody them so well that I think one could give them the trashiest script ever and they’d still sell it. Sophie is a particular focus in 1(a) because of Nate’s death, and she’s particularly well written as a result.

That said, I’m super bitter that we saw little to no mastermind!Parker. Parker’s character being given the mastermind role was a big deal and it feels like they’re walking it back because they feel uncomfortable with it. It is eventually given an in-text excuse, but literally in the last episode, and it was not a particularly convincing reason, and in fact contradicted moments from previous episodes (Sophie leaving for a client meeting and ignoring Parker in ep3 comes to mind). It’s frustrating, it makes the end of the original leverage feel pointless, and letting Parker make a decision once in a while is not the same thing at all. The original series repeatedly showed us that while everyone in the team had their strengths, Parker works problems and solves them in unique, interesting ways, and other characters’ days in the limelight tended to be comedic or even failures. It’s a broken promise, and a pretty major broken promise at that.

On a more positive note, Parker’s dynamic with literally everyone was fantastic. She’s possibly the best written character this season. They’ve taken the autism out of the subtext and into the text (although obviously still undiagnosed), and given her coping mechanisms that were taken seriously in the text even when they were played for laughs, which I appreciated. Her attempts to mentor Breanna were sweet, her friendship with Sophie was electric and at times (CRIMES) hilarious, and as usual, she has a fantastic dynamic with Eliot that makes my heart burst. If you don’t think they’re romantically involved, at least acknowledge there’s a life partnership here. They’ve spent the last decade together.

(We’ll get to Harry.)

Eliot isn’t given much arc-wise, which is frustrating since he’s my favorite. He’s being presented as the goal at the end of a redemption arc, ie to keep working at it every day until your soul heals or whatever, and it doesn’t reflect the message they’re trying to convey via Hardison’s speech and our two new characters. He’s got his moments, but I think they under utilized his potential.

Breanna!!! Breanna’s my new favorite, except for Eliot. She’s hilarious, she’s insecure, she’s nerdy and excited in a way that’s similar to Hardison but still distinct in its inherent teenage-girl-ness and I LOVE IT. Unlike the previous series, where Hardison’s “age of the geek” was often a joke played on Hardison, we’re at the point where Eliot and Parker are both right there with him, and so they accept and even appreciate Breanna’s nerdiness. Also, canon gay character? In YOUR Leverage? It’s more likely than you think.

(No, I never thought they’d make ot3 canon on screen. I hoped, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.)

I think Breanna’s the character that will be the most interesting to see grow. She’s got a lot of potential and a list of crimes a mile long (or more). I adore her with all my heart. I want to see her tiktok account.

Harry. Oh, Harry.

It took me a while, but I do like Harry. It took a while, because the narrative positioned him at the same level as Nate back in episode 1 of original Leverage. But in episode 1 we didn’t know the other characters. We had Nate as the POV character, and so we cared about him because we were seeing the world through his eyes. (This is TV Studies 101. I know this, because I took TV Studies 101 in 2019.) In Leverage: Redemption, we no longer have a POV character, for several reasons:

Nate, previously the POV character, is dead.

As it is, by mid-season 3 of leverage Nate was no longer a POV character. This is, coincidentally, the point where the leverage writers realized they had four other characters in the main cast they could do something with, and in-universe, Nate accepted that he was a thief, not a special Good Man.

Sophie is sort of a POV character for the first episode of the revival, but only for the first few minutes. Afterwards, the series settles into the groove of seasons 3-5, i.e., the entire crew is our POV. We know our crew, and we love them as is.

Narratively, however, Redemption insists on positing Harry as the POV character, because it is his redemption we are pursuing most vehemently. And I think they really relied on us already knowing the actor - I’ve never seen him in anything before, so to me he was a completely fresh face and they put almost no effort into selling him to me. Beyond being competent and consistently mildly baffled by the antics of the leverage crew, I honestly don’t know who this man is by the end of EIGHT episodes with him. I have a much better handle on Breanna by the end of 1(a), and I can tell you I knew all five of the original leverage crew better by the end of the first episode of the original series than I do Harry. What’s the name of his daughter, John Rogers. Is he still married. How old is the daughter. Why is none of this worth mentioning. Give him a sense of humor that isn’t reacting to other people’s shenanigans. I’m so frustrated. It’s bad writing.

I did manage to grow to like Harry by the end, but I’m pretty sure this is down to Noah Wyle’s charismatic portrayal of an under-developed character, at least partially. And I never stopped being frustrated at not knowing who this man is at all.

The two highlights of the season are undoubtedly episodes five and six. Episode five was the first time I felt like the episode was more than a collection of good moments between the main cast and mediocre moments between the main cast and also the main plot. The issues with pacing and tone that I suffered through for most of the season were mostly non-existent in ep5 and 6, and at least in episode 5 I attribute that to the pared down cast. They had time to focus not only on our actual characters - Sophie, Parker, Breanna - but also on the case. This is the only client from 1(a) I am going to remember next week without googling it first, mark my words.

Episode six worked for the exact opposite reason - it completely disregarded the client and plot and immersed itself in the characters. Breanna gets a moment to shine, but everybody else gets their bits and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the script that was most fun to write. The characters felt natural, real, and captured the found-family dynamic that’s been missing all season for the first time.

While episode 2 is the weakest episode, I don’t actually have much to say about it. I am disappointed in episode 8. For a mid-season finale, I really expected them to do something. Instead, it was an episode about Nate Ford that copped out of being about Nate Ford (both with fake-Nate and with the new version of him being relayed to us). I would have told the writers to give that energy back to episode 1 and write an episode that’s about anybody who isn’t Harry, oh my God. I know I said I grew to like him but so many episodes were about Harry. He’s the newbie! Why didn’t Hardison get an episode that was actually about him, considering he was only around for two episodes? Why does Eliot have to be the butt of the joke when the theme of the series should directly tie back to him in a much more meaningful way? The last episode parodies their own tagline by saying Eliot isn’t just a hitter, but it deftly avoids noticing that they’ve turned him into nothing more than very muscly comic relief, including in that very episode!

Also, I hated the Marshal. Eliot actively looked uncomfortable around her.

tl;dr

The season took a while, that’s definitely true. But it did find its footing eventually, and by the halfway mark of 1(a) it finally felt cohesive again. The characters were played fantastically even when they weren’t well-written, and if nothing else, the humor landed every time. It still has its kinks and problems to work out, but if you look at it as a brand new show rather than a continuation of one that went off the air over eight years ago, it’s actually doing rather well. I’m choosing to judge it in both lights - according to its own standards, it establishes its identity in episode five; according to Leverage standards, it establishes its connection to its roots in episode six. Either way, I thoroughly enjoyed 1(a), and continue to have high hopes for 1(b).

fic writing will commence in three, two, one...

#leverage #leverage meta #leverage redemption #leverage ot3 #parker leverage #alec hardison #sophie devereaux #eliot spencer #breanna casey #harry wilson #mine

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

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Hey Neighbor (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3997 Warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of death/loss

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 1 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

A soft knock at pulls you away from the computer. Twisting your stiff head towards the door you smile, seeing Steve Rogers standing with a tray of coffee and a paper bag in hand marked with the logo of your favorite nearby restaurant.

“You’re a lifesaver!” you chuckled, though you meant every word as you invited Steve to sit at your desk for lunch.

Steve worked security for Stark Industries and you developed a close friendship in the years since you’ve been there. Though he was undeniably good looking, with the build of a Greek God and long lashes you were incredibly jealous of, you never saw Steve as anything other than the brother you never had.

At the time you met he was dating a girl from the building, Lillian Nguyen from accounting. You hadn’t seen much of her in person, just through the photos Steve showed you with adoration on his phone. When he began talking about looking for engagement rings you were thrilled but that excitement was replaced with anger and confusion when Steve found out Lillian was cheating on him.

He was extremely hurt and became guarded afterwards, not wanting to put himself out there again. His lack of socializing worked with your lack of a social life and on the rare occasion you had a moment free from school work Steve would often come over and hang out to binge watch shows you needed to catch up to on Netflix while you ate pizza.

The paper bag rustled as he pulled out a large sandwich, cup of soup and a salad, distributing napkins across the desk as he knows how much of a messy eater you can be. You grabbed the sandwich, tearing open the paper wrapping and sinking your teeth into it with a bite full of food too large for your mouth.

Steve laughed, as he stirred the broth of his soup. He’s witnessed you eating before, unapologetically shoveling food into your face especially when you were starving.

“You know the sandwich isn’t goin’ anywhere, right?” he joked.

Chewing a large mouthful, you grabbed a napkin to wipe the corner of your lips that you felt had a piece of food sticking to it.

“Steve,” you paused to take a sip of coffee, “I’m fucking starving. I ran out this morning and all I had here was a package of almonds that are not filling despite what you say.”

He asked the reason for your tardiness and you explained how you stayed at the cafe until closing to finish up your work, all because of your stupid neighbor.

“Have you tried talkin’ to him?”

You stared at Steve incredulously. “Haven’t gotten a chance. I gotta wait for the right moment. There’s no way I’m knocking on his door, not when he’s banging all of New York, who knows what I’d end up seeing.”

“D’ya want me to do it?”

It was in Steve’s nature to help and though you appreciated his offer you wanted to handle this yourself. You were the one that had to live next to the Music Man, it would be better to confront him alone.

“I understand,” he said, taking a swig from his water bottle. “You down to hang tonight?”

“Wish I could but before my time is sucked away by the next paper I really need to research where I could do my internship. I’m all registered for school but I need to submit the paperwork for where I’ll be doing my hours and I’m running out of time.”

“You should talk to my buddy Sam. Maybe he could get you in at the hospital.”

Sam was Steve’s friend from the gym. They’d work out together, turning everything into a friendly competition to see who could run faster or lift more. Sam was also a doctor in the emergency department of Metro-General so he might have connections. It was worth a shot so you asked Steve to text him. Still you planned on searching for more backups to be safe.

Before the hour was over Steve left to head back downstairs to the security desk and you continued your work for Ms. Hill. You had evolved to working closer with Ms. Hill, becoming more like an executive assistant to her and when necessary Ms. Potts.

In between coordinating a meeting your phone goes off with a text from Wanda, asking if she could see you over the weekend for brunch. Ironically, she ended up moving to the city after all. There was only so far she could go with her degree at home and with her mother’s blessing she came to New York to work for The Jewish Museum.

She lived in a trendy loft on Bleecker Street, decorated with her signature eclectic style. Woven rugs hung like tapestries on the wall, plants hanging down from macramé holders in front of the large windows. Her furniture was an odd mix of plush velvet tufted cushions and smooth leather arm chairs that somehow worked with the mid-century touches and industrial shelving.

Her apartment had more space which you envied, although you loved everything else about where you lived. The neighborhood was amazing, with great shops and a lot of different food options right at your doorstep. Everything was perfect, except your neighbor.

Responding to Wanda you let her know you could most likely make it depending on the workload you’d be getting from your Saturday class. You could not wait until that was over. Spending all day in a small, windowless room instead of enjoying the summer weekend made you miserable but you were close to the end, so, so close.

When the work day was over you went to meet Steve downstairs, walking over to the desk to say goodnight to the elderly security guard who’s been with the company since its inception.

“Any plans for the weekend Mr. Lee?”

The wiry white hairs that made up his mustache moved as he grinned. “Well, Joanie thinks my hair’s getting a bit long,” he smiled, running his fingers through his greyish-white strands. “She’ll have it trimmed before supper, I'm sure,” he laughed.

A smile graced your face whenever you listened to Mr. Lee, admiring the adoration he had for his wife. Steve has heard all of his stories more than once but he never tires of them either. Everyone loved Mr. Lee, especially Tony Stark, who continued to pay him a full time salary for the part time hours he worked.

The job was easy enough as he greeted visitors to Stark Industries, and signing them in to the building while Steve and some other employees did most of the security checks.

You and Steve bid Mr. Lee goodbye as you made your way to the subway. Steve didn’t live far from you and though he could have gotten off at a further stop he always walked with you to your building, partially to make sure you got home safely but also because he needed a distraction to get out of his head.

There were many times when you suggested he go out, not with the purpose of meeting someone but just to break up the monotony of his routine, but Steve lost his confidence after the breakup. For now, he didn’t want to be told what to do, he simply needed a friend and so you were there for him.

Wanda sat back against the chair beside the bistro table covered in shade. Her always changing hair color was light brown today, parting the silky strands perfectly down the middle. She was the definition of cool, despite the heat, wearing a loose scoop-necked tank top, slim ripped jeans and topped things off with a pair of motorcycle boots. Her neck was adorned with a few necklaces of varying lengths, one of which she never took off, a silver lightning bolt in honor of her late brother.

She and Pietro were twins with distinctly different personalities. Wanda was laid back, even as a child. She would actually stop to smell the roses that lined the garden of their backyard, whereas Pietro was always moving. He was an extraordinary multitasker that could not sit still.

Pietro had so many dreams, a full list of things he wanted to do in life but he was taken from the world too soon. Wanda wears the necklace as a reminder to live life to the fullest, knowing how quickly things can change.

Squeezing through the other tables to get to Wanda, you huff as you sit down and catch your breath, apologizing for being late.

“Wanda, I swear I’m going to kill him.”

“Who?”

“The fucking Music Man! I had to leave my own damn apartment again because of his stupid playing. Like, dude, could you not? You live in an apartment. Everyone hears you, everyone!”

Grabbing the glass of ice water you quickly drink most of it to soothe the dehydration of your mouth.

“And another thing, like does he not realize that we can all hear the girls he’s banging? Wanda, they’re so fucking loud. If they were still there right now I bet you could hear them from here.”

Wanda laughed at your accusation. “Oh, so they don’t stay the night? He’s a ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ kinda guy?”

“I guess! I hear them leave, whining at his door as they’re begging to stay over. It’s so pathetic. What’s so great about this guy anyway?” you scoffed. “I wish he never moved here!”

With a final humph you opened the menu, your anger dissipating as you read the descriptions for everything you wanted, mouth salivating as you tried to decide what to choose. Wanda opted for the frittata while you decided to take out your frustrations on yourself with delicious Challah French Toast.

Wanda’s eyes widened as she watched you drown your meal in syrup. You hummed in satisfaction as you took a bite.

“Hmm, it’s not as good as the kind your mom makes,” you said.

Wanda laughed, “Uh, yeah, because she never used a whole bottle of syrup. Geez Y/N can you taste anything other than sugar?”

“Shush Wan, let me enjoy myself here.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at you. “Well, anyway, I wanted to tell you something exciting...” she sang, grinning widely. “Director Coulson asked me to curate an exhibit on prejudice told through Romani-Jewish art!”

“Wanda this is perfect! I’m so happy for you!” you beamed, getting up from your chair to wrap your arms around her in a proud hug.

“I know! I’m so excited. Mom’s gonna come up for the opening. I mean that’s a long time from now but fuck, I can’t wait!”

After finishing brunch you went back home to begin working on your final. It was a research paper that was worth half of your grade so you really needed to concentrate. And yet the moment the elevator doors opened to your floor you heard it, the sound of music flooding the halls coming from none other than the apartment next to yours.

Jamming your keys into the door with frustration you grunted, grabbing all the things you needed to do your work at the cafe. Your foot tapped impatiently as you waited for the elevator again. With your arms crossed over your chest you could feel your blood boiling beneath your skin, beating to the stupid rhythm of the stupid song that your stupid, inconsiderate neighbor wouldn’t stop playing.

The elevator dinged before the doors opened and you were like a bull, grunting and blowing puffs of air from your flaring nostrils as you were ready to charge into it. As the doors opened you stopped yourself from barreling into your neighbors that were inside.

“Whoa, Y/N!” Clint said, raising his hands up defensively, “Easy there.”

Clint lived on the floor above you along with his fiancée Natasha, whose arms were looped through his.

“Sorry guys,” you apologized. “Oh, wait.” Making your right hand into a fist you ran it across your chest in a few circular motions.

“Someone’s been practicing,” Natasha chimed in, signing her words along as she spoke to you.

Clint was partially deaf and though he used hearing aids he often signed, especially when he didn’t feel like talking to people, although you were one of the lucky ones he considered a friend. Still, you wanted to be able to communicate with him, even if he didn’t want to actually speak.

Clint was a history teacher who already tried to get you into his school for your internship but doubted you would be brought on board. There were apparently a lot of issues going on with the principal and Natasha surmised there was a big lawsuit in the works.

Natasha was an attorney, hoping to make partner at her current firm Nelson & Murdock. Clint never failed to praise her, nicknaming Natasha the Black Widow as he claimed watching her dismantle a witness was like watching a spider sink its venomous fangs into its prey.

“Where’re you guys off to?” you asked.

“Just going out for some ice cream,” she replied.

Clint laughed. “Some ice cream? No, I’m going out to eat a lot of ice cream,” he chuckled, rubbing his eager stomach.

Natasha poked the small protrusion of his belly through his shirt. “Listen buddy, we’ve got a wedding to plan. Easy on the ice cream.” Natasha brought her full lips to his for a kiss they both smiled through, knowing she was teasing him.

“What about you Y/N?” Clint asked.

The elevator doors opened and you walked out with them, explaining how frustrating it’s been that you’ve had to leave for the cafe to do your work all because of the new neighbor.

“Oh the Guitar Hero?” Clint joked. “Yeah, we can hear him too. Well, actually…” he drifted off smirking.

“Clint takes his hearing aids out so no, he doesn’t hear him,” Natasha filled in the information that had you bursting out with laughter.

“Can you hear the women too?” you wondered, considering their apartment was right above his.

“Yeah, kind of, that’s more muffled though. It’s probably a lot worse for you.” Natasha grimaced, catching the way she didn’t mean the words to come out.

It was true though, sharing a wall with the man that made your string lights bounce with every thrust. The sound was bad enough and thankfully your headphones helped with that but every night you had to shut your eyes, hoping you would fall asleep before he was through with them.

You had to give it to the guy though, the man had stamina. Still, you wanted to kill him. At least you were friends with a lawyer...

The next few days have the same result, with you coming home dead tired from work, hoping you’d be able to stay home to work on your final to no avail. You tried using the headphones in your apartment but it didn’t help. The sound was mostly blocked out but your mind couldn’t focus on anything but the anger you held towards the neighbor, knowing he was playing that same song over and over again.

You might as well live in the cafe since you’ve practically paid them your rent in coffee and pastries over the last month. You were burning out quickly and Steve decided you needed a break, bringing over pizza and beer.

Opening up the box, you smiled, staring at the bubbling cheese.

“Ahh, pizza, my one true love,” you said, plating slices for you and Steve.

Your small table was always covered in textbooks, mail and other paperwork you needed to tend to, so you and Steve took your usual spots on the couch.

After working at Stark Industries for a few months you made enough money that allowed you to finally buy much needed furniture. You adored your light grey couch, adorned with blush colored throw pillows. You threw the fuzzy white blanket over the side of the couch, not serving much purpose during the summer months other than to look like it was naturally left on the cushion in a perfectly styled manner for display.

Pushing aside the candlesticks that sat on your coffee table, you set down actual coasters for the bottles Steve opened, not wanting to ruin the veneer of the grey wood top of your rustic coffee table. A small accent rug helped define the space you declared as the living room, despite having your bed within arm’s reach beside you.

Against the brick wall is your TV, sitting atop a modern white stand with shelves for storage you’ve packed to the brim. Beside it, a large antique floor mirror leans against the brick. It was as tall as Steve who helped bring it to your apartment after you found it at a flea market. However, the thing you cherished most was the artwork of the Brooklyn Bridge that hung above your couch, painted by Steve as a gift to you.

“So,” he said, chewing quickly to swallow the food in his mouth. “I talked to Sam. He said it would be cool for you to call him about the internship.”

“Oh yeah. You really think he could help or is this just a rouse to give him my number?” you half-joked.

Steve laughed deeply, wiping away a bit of oil the pizza leaked onto his chin. “Nah, it’s definitely about the internship but I wouldn’t put it past Sam if he tried to take you out. Lord knows he’s been on my case about it with you since I met ‘im.”

“Does he not think guys and girls can have a friendship without romance involved?”

“I can’t speak for him… probably not though.”

You laughed before getting up for another slice. You hoped Sam would be able to help with the internship, no strings attached. He didn’t seem like that type of guy anyway, and all of Steve’s friends were good people so you weren’t worried.

As the Music Man began his one man band you had to gradually increase the volume of your television; your anger rising with every click of the remote. It was no longer enjoyable to watch the action movie you and Steve put on, having to raise the volume for higher to hear the dialogue and scramble to lower the blasting noise of car screeching and explosions. When you couldn’t take it anymore you called it a night.

“Guess you haven’t spoken to him?” Steve asked the question he clearly knew the answer to.

“Soon,” you said hopefully, not knowing when the day might come.

As the sun began to rise on the early Saturday morning you were getting ready for class. With your closet open you debated on what to wear when you heard a voice from the other side of the wall.

“Hi ma… Things are good… and Dad…”

He must have been walking around the apartment as you heard most of the words.

“I know…Leaving now…”

You heard the undoing of his locks and the front door creaking open. Shit! Your first moment to speak to the Music Man alone and you’re standing in your underwear. There’s definitely no way you would approach him now. Instead you raced to the door to try and catch a glimpse of what he looked like but it was too late.

Huffing in frustration you continued to get dressed and within fifteen minutes you were ready to leave. The elevator dinged as you shut your door, inserting your key to turn the deadbolt, unaware of the form that was moving closer towards you, not until you heard the whistling of a familiar tune.

Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, as if that tune was part of a psychological experiment, like Pavlov’s dog but instead of salivating you wanted to punch something.

“Hey neighbor.”

The soft voice of the Music Man broke you from your vision of punching through your shared wall and destroying his instruments. With a calming inhale you turned around to face him.

“I’m Bucky.”

You didn’t respond, you couldn’t. The breath was stolen from your lungs as you stared directly into the kindest, bluest eyes you had ever seen. All the anger left your body, replaced by the softness of his pink lips that reminded you of flowers in full bloom.

He was tall and lean, but your eyes did not miss the bulge of his biceps that showed through his cotton t-shirt. In his hand was a coffee cup, gripped under his long fingers. His hair was dark and pulled back into a low sloppy bun, with a loose piece falling beside his smile.

His hand was extended towards you and you weren’t sure how long it had been. It felt like you were staring at him for hours, or was it only seconds. Did time really stop moving the moment you finally saw him? You broke yourself out of your trance to shake his hand and introduce yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N. I just moved in. Well not just, but not long ago,” Bucky said.

Yeah I know. I hear you every night. You remembered your frustration and tried to assemble the sentence in your head of how to confront him.

“You ever get coffee from the place on the corner?” he asked, gesturing to the cup in his hand. “The line was crazy long but worth it, it’s delicious.”

“Yeah, once or twice but I’m usually at the Grind House. They’re open late and that’s where I have to go to study because… uh…” you stammered for a moment, “...your guitar playing is too distracting.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, wondering why you felt uncomfortable when he was the one who was being a bad neighbor.

Bucky’s face dropped with guilt. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

“It’s alright,” you lied, not knowing why you said that. Pulling more confidence out of midair you continued, “It’s just that the walls are so thin and I’m in school, well I work full time too, but I’ve just got a lot on my plate and honestly I’m not sure how much longer I can afford the coffee shop every night.”

You chuckled to lighten up the conversation, continuing to ramble before giving him a chance to speak. “So, um, if you wouldn’t mind, maybe you could practice during the day instead or weekends are mostly fine. I’m actually heading to class now so I’ll be gone all day.” Great, give him your whole schedule why don’t you.

With nerves getting the better of you, you turned on your heel quickly saying it was nice to meet him. Briskly making your way towards the elevator you pressed the button furiously in hopes it would get to your floor faster.

Once inside you let out a big sigh and waved your hand in front of your slightly sweaty, heated face. Bucky seemed like he genuinely wasn’t aware of the noise he was making, and the way you passive aggressively called him out on it made you feel like shit.

But what was worse was knowing there was a face, a drop dead gorgeous face that is responsible for making the women of New York scream in ecstasy every night. It was going to be very difficult to concentrate in class today.

Getting home later that afternoon you were anxious to make something to eat, but more anxious about Bucky, hoping you wouldn’t run into him again. As you opened your door your foot slid on something and as you looked down you saw a small envelope with your name written on it.

Inside was a $50 gift card to The Grind House with a little note. I’m truly sorry about the noise. –Bucky

Your mouth opened in shock at the realization that Bucky did this nice gesture for you, and worse, you were going to have to thank him.

PART 3

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

Text

My mama is the best man in the universe...

For the lovely @marilynmonroefanfics 😍😍👄💕💕

Hope you’ll like it!

TW: Mentions of murder

"I swear to God that this case is gonna make me crazy!"

"Please, Detective, don't call out my father!"

Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed: currently, she and Lucifer worked on a murder case.

The victims, all members of a scientific research group, were burned to death, but it looked like the burning came from inside the bodies. An element that puzzles the detective, who sighed in defeat:

"Okay, so... What do you think about this case?"

"Mmmh... For sure, a mere human cannot do that. Unless he would be able to force his victims to swallow some combustible, strike a match, and... Burn baby, burn!"

"Very funny, Lucifer!"

"Pleasure's mine, dear Chloe!" retorted the demon with a seductive wink.

The detective rolled her eyes but can't help smiling at his antics: she knew he was only trying to light up her mood.

She reported her attention to the investigation file and said:

"According to our dear Ella, not a single trace of fuel was found in the victims' bodies. But how the killer can burn his victims to death?"

"Do you know what it means?"

"I'm afraid that we are dealing with a new case of a supernatural arsonist creature!" sighed the woman.

"I'm sorry to tell you that, but you're right!" answered the Devil with a comforting pat on her shoulder.

"After what I've seen before, nothing could surprise me anymore!"

"Well, you got the point!"

"Do you have an idea which creature can do that?"

Lucifer frowned, puzzled.

"It might be surprising, but this time, I don't know who can be the potential guilty!"

"I wish I know someone who can help us because this case is getting on my nerves!"

The fallen angel cogitated a long time before he exclaimed:

"Eureka! I know someone who can help us!"

"Really? Thank you! But who is this person?"

"Of course, my Mama!"

When she heard those words, Chloe quivered:

"What? You want to call your mother? After all the mess she did with you? She badly hurt you, remember..."

Lucifer bit his lip:

"Well, I was not talking about my birth mother. I explain myself. You see, Chloe, after my parents get separated, our mother rejected us. My siblings and I were raised by another person. He made my old man happy, and he treated us as if we were his own children."

The demon fondly smiled.

"He is very dear to me..."

"I can see it... Wait a minute: you said "he" are you sure you did not make a mistake?"

"No, you heard well: I was raised by two men!"

"Wait for a second... Do you just say that God is gay?"

"Bisexual would be more appropriate!"

Chloe shrugged.

"Well, after all I've been through since we met, I think that's not a big deal. Besides, if you say that your dad can help us, it suits me!"

She noticed how Lucifer seemed more relaxed after her statement.

"I'm happy to see that you're always open-minded!"

"You're welcome. Now, call your dad! We have a case to solve!"

"At your orders!" smirked the demon as he dialed the man who raised him.

Later, at Lucifer's penthouse.

Sitting on the comfortable couch, Chloe and Trixie watched with amusement Lucifer running around his penthouse, checking every room. Mazikeen, desperate by her boss's behavior, shook her head.

"Right, I put the whiskey on the table, and his favorite meals are here too... Where do I put the cake?"

"In the fridge, Lucifer!" answered Trixie, who chuckled.

"Ah yes: it is there!"

"Come on, Lucifer: it's your dad, not the Pope!" gently joked Chloe.

"I don't appreciate the mockery, Detective Decker!" growled Lucifer as he checked himself in the mirror.

"Don't take it personally, Chloe: he always gets stressed when it comes to his other father! He wants to be a good son with him," reassured Mazikeen.

"You know his other father?" asked the blonde woman.

"Indeed, yes. Lucifer's father number two is Petraeus, or Peter if you want, and he is a powerful being!"

"He is God's companion, so I think he might be as powerful as Him!"

"You're right. But I'm sure you're going to appreciate Petraeus. He is a brilliant man, you know. He is also smart and absolutely charming!"

"Well, I trust you."

"You can: he is more approachable than God!"

Suddenly, they heard a knock on the door. Lucifer stopped walking and muttered:

"Oh, hell! It's him!"

"Stop being alarmed: it's just your father! You know what? I'll open the door before you freak out in front of your dad!" smirked Mazi, who got up and walked at the door.

She opened the door and saw a dark-haired man with black eyes and fair skin. Dressed in an elegant white suit, the man smiled:

"Good evening, Mazikeen. It's been a long time."

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Master Petraeus."

"Don't be so formal! You can call me Peter, you know?"

"Sorry, a force of habit. But please, come in!"

Petraeus stepped in and said:

"Good evening, everyone!"

Lucifer rushed towards his father with open arms:

"Good evening, Papa!"

"My sweet demon!" beamed Petraeus as he held his son close to him.

Chloe smiled at the sight of her lover: she never saw Lucifer acting like that with other members of his holy family. He appeared to be close to his father.

Meanwhile, Petraeus stepped aside and looked at his son:

"Look at you, boy: handsome as always!"

"I had a good teacher!"

"Don't be so flattering!"

He glanced at Chloe and Trixie with a charming smile.

"Are these beautiful ladies the famous Chloe and Trixie you told me about?"

"Yes, of course: Papa, this is Detective Chloe Decker and her daughter, Beatriz Espinoza, aka Trixie!"

"Please to meet you, Sir Petraeus!" smiled Chloe as she shook hands with the guest.

"The pleasure is mine, dear Chloe. And don't worry: you can call me Peter!"

"If you allow me..." smirked Chloe.

Trixie jumped on her feet and held out her hand with a wide grin on her face.

"Hello, Peter! I'm Trixie! Please to meet you!"

"What a lively young lady! Nice to meet you too!" laughed Peter.

After he finished his greetings, he looked at the place with impressed eyes.

"You find yourself a comfortable place to live, my dear son. I see you accommodate it at your image!"

"Listen, if the Old Man made Earth at his image, why can't I do the same with my house?"

"Cheeky as always, aren't you?" grinned Peter.

"You know Papa: I've always been the rebellious one among your children!"

"I have noticed..."

The celestial spirit stopped himself as he remarked the table set with chic crockery and delicious courses.

"Oh, Lucifer: you should not have! It was not necessary to turn your dining room into Versailles' Hall of Mirrors!"

"Only the best for you, Papa: come on, sit down! Dinner's ready!"

The evening went smooth, and Chloe admitted that Mazikeen was utterly right about Peter. He was not only good-looking and kind but also intellectual - without being conceited. He had so many stories about historical figures to tell, which amazed Trixie.

"So you met all those people? That's soooo cool!" happily squealed the young girl.

"I'm glad that you liked my anecdotes, Trixie. You know that some of them were Lucifer's bedtime stories when he was your age?"

"Oh no, Dad!" groaned Lucifer, flustered.

"What? There is nothing to be ashamed of, sweets!"

Chloe grinned as she saw her boyfriend confused by some childhood memories. But she discerned in his eyes all the adoration and filial love he had for Petraeus, and she could swear he never looked at God like this...

Time went by, and it was past midnight when Trixie had to go to bed after she nearly fell asleep on the table. Once the young girl settled in a bedroom, the adults talked about the case:

"So, my dear son, you need my help if I understand well?"

"Yes. Chloe and I are working on a difficult case, and we think your knowledge would be valuable!"

"Alright, tell me more about this problem!"

"Everything we've found so far is in this folder!" explained Chloe as she handed a file to Peter.

Petraeus opened it and was taken aback by the horrendous pictures of burned bodies.

"Oh, dear! What a frightful view!"

"Yes, I agree. All the victims belonged to a scientific research group, and they were burnt to death."

"I see it. But what makes you think that you need my help?"

"Well, Papa, this is where the mystery begins. The coroner confirmed that the burn comes from the inside of the bodies. But there is not a trace of fuel! So, we come to the conclusion that a creature killed those people!"

Peter nodded.

"I understand now... Well, from what I can see, it looks like an igniting spell, which implies that the unsub is a fire-element being. However, I cannot determine if it belongs to Biblical, Coranic, Jewish, Buddhist, or pagan mythology."

"If you want, you can accompany us to the Police Department tomorrow. I'm sure Ella, our dear coroner, would accept to show us the three last victims!"

"Thank you for your kind invitation, Chloe. It's a good idea!"

The young woman thanked him before yawning:

"Sorry if I seem impolite, but I have to leave you. This day was a complete mess, and I need to sleep... And I'm sure you had a lot of time to catch up!"

"Go ahead, I'll join you later!" smiled Lucifer.

"Okay. Good night, Peter!"

"Have a nice night!" answered the celestial spirit.

As the detective left the dining room, Peter turned to his son and said:

"She is really exquisite, Lucifer! You rightly choose your soulmate!"

"Well, I must admit it: I'm lucky that she accepted me in her life. Chloe is the most amazing woman I ever met!"

Peter tenderly smiled at Lucifer:

"Seeing you so happy is a blessing for me! I was so worried that your banishment would put you down..."

The fallen angel saw a spark of sadness clouding his Papa's eyes.

"Papa, are you alright?"

"Sorry, it's just that... I feel so terrible not being able to visit you on Earth. But your father did not allow me to do so..."

He sadly sighed

"You had no idea how many times we argued about it. I told him that his punishment was above cruelty, and he did not even try to understand why you stood up against his authority!"

"I figure that he told you that you were too kind with me!"

"You know him well... Of course, I cannot disobey him, so I did not come visiting you either in Hell or Earth. But I send you some signs from me... just to tell you that you're not alone, and I'll always love you, no matter what happens!"

Touched by his father's sadness, the demon reached his father's hand and gently held it.

"Papa, I already knew it. You don't have to feel guilty: nothing is your fault. I knew about your messages: I kept them in a small box, and when I feel distressed, I read them, and it cheers me up. You always cared about my siblings and me more than our mother. I'll always be grateful to have you as my Papa."

Relief spread through Peter as he smiled:

"Thank you, son."

Lucifer glanced at the clock and stated:

"Well, time runs fast, and you maybe want to get some rest..."

"Good idea: all those emotions dried me out."

The King of Hell led his dad to the guest room.

"Here's your bed for the night! You have your own bathroom on the right with all the comfort!"

"I'll manage for tonight... Thank you, Lucifer!"

"You're welcome, dad. Good night!"

Peter leaned close to his son and kissed his forehead:

"Good night, my little demon!"

As he came back to his bedroom, Lucifer felt his heart happily swelling. He ached for the love of his parents for a long time, and he was more than happy to meet his Papa again.

Lucifer and his siblings were forever grateful to Petraeus for bringing joy back in their Holy Father's heart and loving them as his own offspring.

When he laid down next to Chloe, who was already asleep, the demon felt like his life on Earth was kind of complete...

The following day.

After bringing Trixie back to her home, Chloe drove to the L.A.P.D with Lucifer and Petraeus.

"Los Angeles is a quite unusual place. Even if it had a lot of lovely surroundings, I'm not fond of its nightlife. But I can understand why you choose to live here, my Lightbringer!" stated the celestial spirit.

"What can I say? I love the atmosphere of Los Angeles at night, and my nightclub is among the most popular of the city!" smirked Lucifer.

"How boastful you are!" gently mocked Chloe.

"Oh, honey, why do you have to hurt me?" pouted Lucifer while making puppy eyes.

"Because she knows you well, darling!" chuckled Peter.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Police Department and headed to the forensic lab. When they entered the lab, Ella was already there, checking the last victim's remains.

"Good morning, Ella!"

The coroner rose her head and greeted her colleagues with a warm smile.

"Hiya, guys! How are you?"

"We're fine, thanks. Still working on the last victim?"

"Unfortunately: I scanned every ash, every piece of flesh, but I can't find any bloody clue! The only thing I found so far are traces of bindings on their wrists and ankles!"

She noticed Peter's presence.

"May I know the name of our dashing visitor?"

"Where are my manners? My name is Petraeus, but you can call me Peter."

"Nice to meet you, Peter. And you are...?"

"Ah yes: I'm Lucifer's dad."

Ella frowned, puzzled.

"But I thought Lucifer's father is God!"

"Well, I'm his other dad..."

When she put all the pieces together, she jumped back and yelped.

"HOLY COW! DOES IT MEAN THAT GOD IS GAY?"

"Bisexual, precisely. And don't worry, I had quite the same reaction as you when Lucifer told me!" explained Chloe.

Ella ran her hand through her black hair.

"Sorry if I appear rude, but it's a lot to handle in one day, and this is not what I was taught!"

"Don't worry, I understand!" reassured Peter.

"Auntie Rosalia won't ever believe it if I told her... Well, I'm pleased to meet another member of your family, Lucifer, but can you tell why your number 2 father is doing here?"

"My dear Miss Lopez, my Papa came to helping us in this murder case!"

"Really?"

"Indeed, my son told me that you were struggling with those killings!"

"Struggling is an understatement. Would you like to check on the body I'm currently working on?"

"Well, if you allow me, I accept with pleasure!"

Ella gestured for him to come closer to inspect the remains.

He inclined and carefully looked at the corpse. After his observation, he muttered:

"I can confirm that your murderer is a supernatural creature!"

"Oh no! That's what I feared!" sighed Chloe as she facepalmed.

"And what else can you tell us about it?" asked Ella.

"That it is from another mythology: so, it's not a Biblical demon who is causing this tragedy. I hesitate between a European creature and a Middle Eastern spirit."

At the same time, Dan Espinoza made his entrance into the lab:

"Hello, Ella! Anything new about..."

He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the presence of Lucifer and Chloe:

"Chloe, Lucifer..."

"Detective Douchebag..." gritted the demon.

Dan turned his head and remarked Peter near the body:

"Ella, are you mad? Why are you letting a civilian looking at the body?"

"Because, sir, I offered my help to your department." calmly explained the celestial being.

Espinoza asked his ex wife:

"Who's this lad?"

"You better show respect to my..." growled Lucifer, but his father stopped him.

"It's okay, Lucifer: I'll handle it!"

He stepped towards Dan and asked:

"Can I know your name, detective?"

"I'm Detective-Sergeant Daniel Espinoza."

"Espinoza? Oh, you must be Trixie's father: she is a wonderful child, you know. You are lucky to have her!" genuinely said Peter.

"Er, thanks... But how do you know her?"

"Because she and I met him last night at Lucifer's place!" explained Chloe.

"Chlo, you can't let someone you don't know near to our daughter!"

"But I'm not some creepy stranger, you know. Let me introduce myself: I'm Petraeus, or Peter if you prefer my human name. I am Lucifer's father... And by the way, I am God's husband!"

A silence followed this announcement before Dan yelled:

"WHAT THE FUCK? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? God cannot be gay: it's impossible! It's not written in the Bible!"

"But humankind does not know all about God, right? And I reassure you: it's not a witticism, but the truth!"

"But still: God cannot be with a man!"

"Are you just confessing your homophobia, Detective Douchebag?" sneered Lucifer.

"You, go to Hell!"

"Been there already. King of Hell, remember?"

"Well, just get back and don't piss me off!"

"Stop insulting my son! As for my marriage with God, I can assure you that it's true: we had a beautiful and sincere relationship for billions of years!"

"But I never heard about you!"

"I trust you: I prefer being discreet. But I'm sure you know my other name..."

"Your other name?" asked Dan, bewildered.

"Does your dad had another name?" demanded Chloe to Lucifer.

"I don't remember it..." answered Lucifer, confused.

At the same time, Espinoza urged Peter to tell him:

"And what is your other name?"

"Oh, I am sure you know it... You may also know me as Virgin Mary!"

All stood astounded by the statement... until Dan fainted, unable to handle it anymore.

"Woah! That was a shock, for sure!" muttered Chloe.

"Is he still alive?" inquired Ella.

"I don't know, and I don't really care!" scoffed Lucifer.

As for Peter, he cannot help but giggle.

"That's what I expected! This joke works every time!"

"I wonder where does Lucifer takes his mocking personality..." smirked Detective Decker.

"I had a good teacher!" answered the fallen angel.

"See, Chloe: this is how I handle rude people! And I must add that my dearest husband loves my sense of humor!"

"What can I say? You're the best man in the universe, Papa!"

"Thank you, my little flame! Now, let's go back to work, shall we?"

The quatuor worked all day to find answers to this tricky case. Thanks to their teamwork, they discovered that the scientific team went to Saudi Arabia three months ago and were in the middle of a controversial story.

Indeed, they were blamed for the accidental destruction of an old temple dedicated to the jinni. And to add more fuel to the fire, the wreck caused severe injuries to a native teenage boy named Yassin. They excused themselves for the damages and never paid for their responsibilities. Moreover, they fled back to the United States before any juridical process started.

When they learned that story, Chloe was appalled, to say the least:

"How could they act like cowards?"

"Well, they were more concerned about their careers than a human life! But it does not mean that I approve their behaviors!" stated Lucifer.

"Moreover, the young boy's family was too poor to sue the team! They gave up in exchange for some money! Some people are so heartless..." grunted Ella.

"And so, we cannot suspect them to carry out their revenge against those who wronged them: first of all, because Yassin is in a comatose state. Secondly, his family does not have enough financial resources to travel from their country to Los Angeles. And thirdly, we know that it's a supernatural creature who murdered some members of the scientific team!" itemized Peter.

"Do you think a jinn could be responsible?" asked Ella.

"There is a huge probability that a jinn can be responsible for all the murders. Furthermore, they perfectly control natural elements, and they are extremely ferocious towards those who offend them!"

Chloe looked at her watch and suggested:

"Okay, guys: what if we continue our work at my place? You are my guests!"

"With great pleasure, Chloe! I wonder where do you live?"

"Somewhere less luxurious than Lucifer's penthouse!"

"Don't belittle yourself, love. Your home is a nice place, too."

Later in the evening, at Chloe's home.

Once settled at Chloe's place, the four investigators were brainstorming with the help of Mazikeen, who came empty-handed from her research.

"But how a Saudi jinn can go to Los Angeles? I mean, there are two continents and an ocean between the two!" grumbled Ella, who scratched her head, frustrated.

"That's an excellent question... I'm not familiar with the Arabic magical world, much to my chagrin!" sighed Lucifer.

Trixie, who laid on the sofa, looked at the ceiling, a slight frown on her face. She really wanted to help her mum, but she did not know how... until an idea popped into her mind.

"Mum..."

"What, Trixie?"

"I wonder... What if the boy's family appealed to a jinn to avenge him? It can explain how the jinn arrives here..."

The five adults looked at each other with amazement: they obviously did not think about this possibility!

"Of course! How can I forget this?" exclaimed Lucifer.

"By answering to their prayers, he would not only avenge the boy but also make the scientists pay for the destruction of his temple!" concluded Ella.

"That's right, but I have to mention something: jinn need a human vessel to travel such a long distance. Like this, those spirits can save their energy and powers!" described Peter.

"It can be everyone else! How can we unmask him?" asked Trixie.

"Don't worry about it: I would recognize him without a doubt!"

"Okay, but now we had to find him before he exterminates the remaining members of the scientific team!" said Mazikeen.

Suddenly, Chloe's phone rang.

"Hello?"

**"Chloe? It's Dan!"**

"I'm listening..."

**"It's about the case you work on... I have some news for you!"**

"Go ahead!"

**"First of all, we had a janitor from the lab who said that he remembered seeing someone roaming near the building many times. He cannot give us a name, but the description matches with Terry Bradford, an ex-convict. He was often arrested for acts of violence and was among the suspects of a drug dealer's murder case."**

"Uh, interesting. What else?"

**"I don't think you're ready for this one, but do you remember the boy who was injured by the scientists in Saudi Arabia?"**

"Of course, why?"

**"Well, my contact in the Saudi embassy told me that Yassin was declared missing for one and a half weeks."**

"MISSING?" exclaimed Peter, Lucifer, Trixie, Ella, and Mazikeen.

"But that's impossible! He is in a coma!"

**"He is supposed to, but the nurses found his bed empty. Since then, they searched him everywhere but in vain!"**

"Oh, I feel that I'm going crazy. Do you have anything else?"

**"No, except that I'm searching for Bradford: his probation agent did not see him for several days!**"

"Okay, I got it: be careful!"

**"Don't worry: I'll manage, as always! Good luck!"**

After she hung up, Chloe asked:

"Have you heard the news?"

"Yes, and it turns this investigation into a brain-teaser! Now, we had another suspect!" sighed Ella.

Peter turned to his son and asked:

"Do you have any idea about it, son?"

"I'm trying to put the pieces together, but it's more complicated than I thought..."

Suddenly, the King of Hell had an eye-opener.

"Of course! How I did not think about it before?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me if I'm wrong, Papa, but jinns can manipulate people too, right?"

"Of course."

"So, he must have taken possession of Yassin's body, traveled from Saudi Arabia, and hypnotized Bradford, forcing him to kidnap the scientists!"

"This is a good analysis, son! You'll never cease to impress me!" fondly smiled Peter.

"Okay, so we must find the jinn and Bradford before they kill another victim. But, where can we find them?"

"They need an isolated place to accomplish their crimes..."

"I know! The former industrial site near the docks! It's abandoned for years!" shrieked Ella.

"Alright, let's check there! We'll probably have answers!" declared Lucifer, who got from his seat.

"I'm coming with you!" shouted Trixie, but her mother stopped her.

"Not so fast, young lady! You stay here: it's too dangerous!"

"Mommy, we live with Satan himself: there is no danger!" stated the young girl.

"She can come with me: I promise to look after her as if she was the apple of my eyes !" assured Peter.

"Trust my Papa, Chloe: the last one who dared scared his children is still traumatized by his anger!" affirmed the fallen angel.

"I confirm: he is as scary as God!" nodded Mazikeen.

"If you say so... Okay, let's go: we don't have time to lose!"

Soon after, the team drove to the former industrial site, hoping to prevent another murder.

"I never handle a jinn, so I don' know what to do!" admitted Chloe.

"Me neither, and I don't know Koran!" added Ella.

"Don't worry about the jinn, and focus on Bradford! Lucifer, Mazikeen, and I will take care of the jinn!"

"Are you going to hurt him? What if you hurt the boy instead?" asked Trixie, worried.

"You don't have to worry, Trixie: we'll handle it!" smiled Mazikeen.

A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination. Then, they wandered through the buildings, searching for the jinn.

"Do you see anything?" asked Ella.

"Not yet, but I'm sure we're not far from them!" mumbled Lucifer.

As they progressed, they bumped into Dan.

"Dan? What are you doing here?" whispered Chloe.

"I can ask you the same... And why Trixie is here?"

"Because my dad wanted so, and now, shut up and be useful for once in your stupid life!" snarled Lucifer.

Peter gently patted his shoulder.

"Calm down, son: it's okay! Now, let's go! I feel that they are not far from here!"

The group silently walked until they heard a painful scream.

"Oh, I hope we're not too late!"

"The scream comes from this building! Let's go!" said Chloe.

They came closer to the building and watched through a hole in the wall the remaining scientists, hanged by the arms at a butcher's hook. Circling near them, a tall blonde muscular man held a baseball bat in his hand, while an Arab teenage boy stood in front of them, a stern look on his face.

"We found them! It looks like the jinn wants to play with them before the fatal blow!" uttered Ella.

"We need to intervene before he burns someone else!" rustled Dan as he pulled his gun out of its holder.

"Who do you think you are? John Wayne? Can't you just think before you act, idiot?" snapped Lucifer.

"Shh, low your voice! If they heard us, we're doomed!" whined Trixie.

Meanwhile, the scientists begged for their lives.

"Please, don't kill us! We'll do anything you want!" pleaded a dark-haired man.

"SILENCE! All of you don't deserve my mercy, filthy humans!" growled Yassin with an unusual booming voice.

For sure, this voice did not belong to a fourteen years old young man.

"The power of his voice... It's not a common jinn we deal with: I'm sure it's a jinn-king!" muttered Peter.

"A jinn-king?" asked Dan.

"Yes, I'm afraid so... What is the plan?"

"We'll follow your idea: Dan, Ella, and I, we deal with Bradford. As for you, Mazikeen, and Lucifer, you focus on the jinn!" declared Chloe.

"It's good for me!"

The team split into two groups and prepared to intervene as the jinn was about to slay another victim.

"How could you be so stupid? Didn't you think you could run away from your crimes without facing the consequences?"

"Please, have mercy!" cried his soon-to-be victim.

"You begged me to have mercy? Did you show any compassion for the boy you harmed? None of you ever show commiseration for him!"

Suddenly, he was interrupted by the entrance of the team.

"Nobody move! Time to stop the fire!" ordered Dan as he aimed his gun at Yassin.

The possessed boy gave him an arrogant smile:

"Look who we got here! You must be stupid or too proud to dare to threaten a jinn, Daniel Espinoza!"

"How do you know my name?" asked the latter, confused.

"He is a spiritual being, Dan: it explains how he knows you!" told Mazikeen.

"Indeed, Mazikeen of the Lilim. I see that you don't lose your strength!"

"Do you want a demonstration?"

"No, I'd rather not."

He turned to Lucifer and smirked:

"What a surprise! I do not expect the King of Hell among us tonight! Nice to meet you, Lucifer Morningstar! Or should I say, Samael the Lightbringer? The fallen one?"

"Thank you for revealing my CV, mister King-Jinn! But the manners command to tell us your name!" snickered Lucifer.

"Try to guess!" mocked the jinn.

Peter stepped between his son and the jinn and said:

"I think I know who you are, King-Jinn Murrah Al-Abyad! Or should I say King-Jinn Al-Abyad, the White Demon?"

"Oh, interesting! I certainly did not foresee such prestigious guests!"

"What if you show your true form? I am not comfortable speaking with a possessed child!"

"As you wish!"

In front of the humans' bewildered eyes appeared a handsome brown-haired man. His ivory skin contrasted with his ebony eyes.

He was dressed in a sumptuous Oriental outfit: a dark red sleeveless vest that revealed a toned chest and a pair of crimson pants with embroidered flames. He wore golden bracelets around his wrists and ankles, plus a golden circlet with a shining ruby on his head.

"Undoubtedly, he is a King-Jinn!" muttered Trixie, who was hiding behind Lucifer.

"Indeed, urchin. And he loves to show off!" scoffed the demon.

Meantime, Peter and Al-Abyad talked:

"So, I finally meet God's beloved spouse, Petraeus the Benevolent! I've heard a lot about you, but I admit that I never saw your face until tonight!"

"Do I disappoint your expectations?"

"Not even the slightest. If truth be told, I expect Goddess's successor to be as powerful as she was! That said, no creature anticipates the Almighty falling in love with a man, as it is supposed to be a sin!"

Peter rolled his eyes:

"Thank you, I have noticed! But only humans said that, not my husband! But, you might guess that we're not here to talk about my marriage!"

"I figured it out: you're here to obstruct my punishment against those maggots!"

The celestial spirit nodded.

"I appreciate your concern about them, but you better mind your own business: I am offended, so they have to pay the price!"

"I got it: it was your temple which gets destroyed!" said Chloe.

"You're right, Miss Chloe Decker. But I assure you that I would have done little more than tormenting them if they did not act like cowards!"

The jinn furiously glanced at the scientists who were shivering with fear.

"But no... They wounded a child and made a family suffering because of their greed! You would understand that I cannot let this misdemeanor pass!"

"I understand what you mean, and I agree that they deserve a sentence for their misdeed. But I can't let you kill those humans like that: it's not fair!"

The jinn roared.

"You think THIS is not fair? But I'm doing what your so-called almighty husband should have done earlier instead of being passive. Self-judgment? Ah! What a pathetic excuse he hides behind!"

Trixie walked near the jinn and tried to calm him:

"Mister King-Jinn, I think Peter tries to tell you that there is no need to burn people alive!"

"NO TRIXIE, STAY AWAY FROM HIM!" yelled Dan, but Bradford stood in his way and tried to hit him.

"Back off, you jerk!" yelled Chloe, who kicked the thug in the head, knocking him out.

As for the jinn, his expression softened when he saw the young girl talking to him.

"What do you mean, Beatrix?"

"I mean... You did not need to kill people to punish them. There are different ways. I know you only did that for helping a young boy, and I'm sure your people are grateful to have you as a protector. But please, stop! I promise that my mama would punish them for what they did... And you can count on her for that!"

"My little monkey!" smiled Chloe.

Peter stepped near Trixie and added:

"You know children: they cannot lie."

Al-Abyad sighed.

"I know, but... No one would dare lay their hands on a child without suffering my wrath!"

"I know what you mean. I would be enraged to the core if anyone ever threatens my children. I know we are not linked by blood, but I love them like my own, and I would do anything to punish the culprit who made them miserable! You can ask Astaroth: now, he will think twice before considering attacking Azrael again."

He put his hand on the jinn's shoulder.

"End your crusade of anger, and let us handle this case. I swear they will face justice!"

Al-Abyad stayed silent for a long time, lost in his thoughts: he craved so much making those criminals enduring torments for their negligence. Nevertheless, he knew Petraeus's reputation as a dutiful man, and the jinn knew that if he said anything, he would keep his word.

Sighing, he conceded:

"Fine, you won! I'll let you deal with those pathetic creatures. But you better keep your promise, or I'll come back to finish my work!"

"Don't worry, I save a special spot for them in my kingdom!" sadistically smirked Lucifer, his eyes glowing red.

Satisfied by the answer, the jinn declared:

"Then, I shall go!"

"Wait, mister Al-Abyad!" exclaimed Trixie.

"What is it, Beatrix?"

"What about Yassin? Will he be alright?"

A small smile appeared on the jinn's face.

"Have no fear for him, little one. Yassin would be fine... and that's why I leave him to you: I want him to see that you will help him!"

"Understood."

"Very well. Goodbye, and may fate be kind to you!"

And he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

"Well, that was an unusual encounter!" sighed Ella.

"Unusual? You mean unbelievable? Damn it, Ella: we met a jinn! A creature that only exists in fairytales!" squealed Dan.

"I'm sure Al-Abyad would be delighted to hear that!" sneered Lucifer.

At the same time, Yassin slowly opened his eyes. Looking at his surroundings, he realized that he was no longer at home and started panicking:

"'ayn 'anaa? limadha 'iinaa huna? 'ayn waliday?" (Where am I? Why am I here? Where are my parents?)

Peter hurried and held the young boy in his arms, one of his hands gently cradling Yassin's head.

"Everything is okay, Yassin. Nobody is going to hurt you, I promise."

The teenager sobbed:

"'amiy ... 'urid 'an 'araa 'ami!" (Mum... I want to see my mother!)

Gently wiping away the tears that rolled down Yassin's cheeks, the celestial spirit soothed the young boy:

"Shh, don't cry. You will see your mother soon. I'll stay here with you, I promise!"

"I am here, too!" added Trixie, who sat near Yassin and held his hand in comfort.

When he saw this scene, it reminded Lucifer of painful memories: he saw himself as a young child, weeping after his mother rejected him for the umptieth time.

He also remembered the warm embrace of Peter, who tried to comfort him. He heard his voice, calm and loving, who repeated that he will always be there for him and he'll always love him.

Coming close to her boyfriend, Chloe asked:

"Are you okay?"

The demon put himself together and said:

"Yes, absolutely."

"You seemed... touched."

Lucifer sighed:

"Maybe because... I remembered why my dad made the right choice, billions of years ago!"

Puzzled, Chloe turned and saw her daughter and Peter, comforting Yassin as paramedics checked on him.

She smiled:

"I see what you mean... Your father is a great person."

"Yes, indeed. My mama is the best man in the universe, and I won't tell otherwise!"

A few days later.

The group was gathered at Chloe's home to celebrate their success. Bradford was put in jail for his collusion in the murders. The remaining teammates of the research group were complied to pay damages to Yassin.

Speaking of the young boy, he flew back to Saudi Arabia, where he was warmly welcomed by his family and many people. He was even received by the royal family!

"It ended well, at least! I'm so happy to get some rest!" smiled Ella, sipping her glass of soda.

"So am I! But I'm sure we would never find out without Peter's help!" added Chloe.

"Don't depreciate your work! You did an amazing job, and I only contributed to help you!" humbly answered Peter.

"You are too cool! And charismatic!" beamed Trixie.

"Thank you, my dear!"

Suddenly, a small ball of light appeared in the room. It flew through the room before stopping in front of Peter. Then, it puts a piece of paper in his hand before disappearing.

"What was that?" asked Dan, utterly amazed.

"Let's see..." muttered Peter, who unfolded the note and read the following message:

Come back to me, my love. I need your presence by my side as huge as your absence makes my heart ache for you. Eternally yours. Your devoted husband.

"It looks like someone misses you!" smirked Mazikeen.

"What can I say? He is lost without me!" laughed Peter.

"Does it mean you have to leave?" pouted Trixie.

"Unfortunately, yes. But I promise to come here as soon as I can!"

He greeted the others goodbye before holding his son:

"Take care of you, my little demon!"

"Don't worry, Papa: I'll be careful!"

As he waved goodbye, the celestial spirit disappeared in a flash of light.

Even if he wished to spend more time with his father, Lucifer knew that Petraeus would come back one day or another. And this day, he would welcome him with open arms, like a good son...

Thank you for the reading!

I hope you liked it!

Can’t wait to see your requests and don’t hesitate to give your opinion (respectfully, please!)

See you later! 😘🥰💝

#requests #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #mazikeen #trixie espinoza #dan espinoza #ella lopez #tom ellis #lauren german #jon hamm #lesley ann brandt #scarlett estevez #kevin alejandro #aimee garcia

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wearecaptaingeorgiou · 3 years

Text

Captain Georgiou January - February Day 3′s scheduled creation is by Al @dykekeit. Thank you to Al for sharing this essay!

Here’s the thing: this story isn’t about me. I’m white and Jewish―not exactly lacking for representation in Star Trek, even if I am a lesbian―not with the ta’al itself coming from the Kol Nidre service, not with Benjamin Sisko’s character more closely resembling Moses than any other religious figure. How many times have I seen myself, loved myself, in Trek? I’ve taken heart in Leonard Nimoy’s Yiddish, in Jim Kirk’s Tarsus IV backstory, in Benjamin Sisko the reluctant prophet and in Kira Nerys, fighting for her traditions amidst pressure to assimilate or die.

And yet, the first time I saw the trailer for Discovery, I almost burst out crying hearing Michelle Yeoh’s voice—her accent, the way she pronounced Shenzhou, seeing her in the captain’s chair—because it felt so much like home.

Like I said, this story isn’t about me. This is a story about my sensei.

I still don’t know what name she was born with, growing up just outside of Hong Kong. When she arrived in the United States, there was no large Chinese community on the east coast in those days; she didn’t speak English, and no one around her spoke Cantonese. She was alone, totally alone. I still can’t fathom the sheer amount of chutzpah it took for her to stand her ground and carve out her place the way she did, but I know what it took: a skill for organization, a love of scheduling, a gift for disdainful silences, and an intense, rigid sense of etiquette. When you stand barely five feet tall, it’s all necessary.

Sensei loves gardening and darjeeling tea, and hates anything sweet to the point that I have gone out of my way to buy her chocolate above 70% grade dark. Oh, and did I mention? She loves Star Trek.

Sensei gravitates towards characters like Spock, like Data: immigrants, constant strangers among new and adopted cultures alike, repeatedly explaining their differences and saving face and proudly, wholly themselves, no matter if people understand them or not. They are characters who defy expectations and use every difference as a strength, no matter if it’s supposed to be a weakness. I wonder, sometimes, as she’s teaching me about the protective properties of jade bracelets and how the good Jewish delis she knew used to serve thinly sliced beef tongue for sandwiches, but not any more—were the stars visible in Hong Kong, growing up? Did she want to escape to the dark sky, to the other side of the world—anywhere?

How did I meet her? Well, when she was thirty-nine, my sensei took up kendo, the Japanese martial art of fencing, and almost twenty-five years later, she had reached fifth-dan (that’s fifth degree black belt!) Into her dojo I stumbled. Picture this: me, a clumsy, skinny Jewish lesbian, never worked out in my life, thought swords were kind of cool, walking into a dojo and finding a sixty-something Chinese woman who, though she barely came up to my chest, could kick the butts of every single much-younger six-foot-plus male student she had.

I guess it’s not surprising I stayed.

Over the next six years, my sensei taught me everything, and not just about kendo. In between correcting my wrist angles, my posture, my follow-through, my footwork, my uniform, my dojo etiquette, and anything else she could think of, there were moments of life coaching: how to focus, how to be disciplined in everything I do, how to help, how to put other people first. When I burst out crying during practice, she reminds me that the dojo is a safe place for emotions. She introduced me to Hong Kong-style diner food, showed me real dim sum and how to order and eat and share it properly, cultivated a lucky money plant for me to bring home and instructed me where to put it in my house for best feng shui, advised me to begin acupuncture for stress, told me to take more initiative when pouring tea for other visiting sensei. On the worst day of my life, I wanted her advice. Once, I managed to get a signed copy of Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club addressed to her personally. When I presented it to her and she learned I hadn’t read it, she turned around and gave it right back to me, insisting with a smile that I read it first so that we could talk about it together.

In the middle of all of it, a new Star Trek show, called Discovery, was announced, and soon, a new trailer dropped. The captain’s name was Philippa Georgiou, and she was played by Michelle Yeoh.

I did nearly burst out crying. It was Michelle Yeoh, but all I could see was Sensei, in command and speaking her accented English, proof of a past beyond a Starfleet that demanded “standard” English for assimilation.

Captain Georgiou was concerned with etiquette, both social and honor-bound: Starfleet doesn’t fire first. In the dojo, I am to bow respectfully, I am to shake hands and thank my opponent after every match, I do not hit just to hit or shy away in fear. The only way a kendo match works is with mutual communication; an opponent is not a faceless thing to be beaten so much as a partner to create opportunities. We may strike first, but we are not aggressors.

Captain Georgiou said: the best way to know yourself is to know others. Take care of those who are in your care. I still remember the time I watched a fellow dojo member rush across the tournament floor because someone had the wrong-colored tasuki to change it without a thought—because he had noticed a problem, therefore he must help. I sat there, frozen. I told Sensei this story later with absolute wonderment and shame and she just smiled, patted my hand, and shared some of her favorite raisin walnut bread with me. She knew the lesson had stuck. Other times, she has snapped at me for forgetting to hold a door open for other people, but—

Captain Georgiou: disciplined, teasing, dedicated, setting stars and valuing candor: your confidence is justified. My shock when Sensei first told a few of the other girls and I some dirty jokes late at night before that same tournament was only matched by how funny it was, and how it was immediately followed with a discussion of our weaknesses in shiai combat, and what our approach both physically and mentally would be for the tournament the following day.

I wonder, through fanfiction and fanart and discussion with others, what Philippa shared of the universe with those around her—with Michael, with Saru, with all those under her care.

I once told Sensei that reading The Joy Luck Club and trying to understand all the Chinese cultural nuances from an outside perspective was like looking through a waterfall, or trying to see through a beaded curtain—seeing outlines, but not being able to grasp details. She smiled, and nodded, and said, “yes.” What she meant was, of course I couldn’t, and no one would be able to explain every detail to me―not if I didn’t live it, but more importantly, not if I didn’t ask questions. When Captain Georgiou brought Michael Burnham to the bridge for the first time, she said, “This can be your new home, if you want it to be.” She asked for little but trust and mutual respect from a certain Vulcan-raised human who needed to re-integrate into an all-too-familiar but still foreign culture. The dojo is foreign, and it is my home, and I must always ask questions.

A human who had seen a life of loss, but still chose hope. A mentor who saw everything as a lesson, full of expectations both written and unwritten. And I, or Michael Burnham, watching her set a star.

Sensei: 谢谢, I love you, and I hope to see you in person soon.

#philippa georgiou #star trek discovery #event submission #type: scheduled creation #type: text #author: dykekeit #event tag #food #ds9 #tos #tarsus iv #death mention

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fromthefishbowl · 3 years

Text

People who complain about Ao3 don’t remember what sites like ff.net were like

Every few months, a bright-minded Tumblr blogger peeps up with the never-heard-before: “Ao3 is a completely amoral site. If they want to prove to us they have a moral backbone, then they need to purge X, Y, and Z tags, and then create a team of mods who will regularly check the stories that are reported because since now there aren’t tags that tell the readers about X, Y, and Z, these goddamn perverts will slip through the cracks and create toxic environment in which children shouldn’t be” take, and the posts routinely receive thousands of notes.

Well... let me tell you how things actually work on sites that don’t use tags but have a team of mods that checks the authors and stories that are being reported.

I’m a fandom old: even if I’m young, I began reading and writing fanfics back in September/October 2012. I’ve used a site that was basically ff.net’s twin, Wattpad, and then Ao3. I was there, when Wattpad slowly turned into a money-making farm and implemented micro-transactions and ads. I have seen how these platforms evolved and who they were protecting, and it really doesn’t matter how much you whine and complain about Ao3, but it’s the only platform that actually protects both its writers and readers in equal measure.

According to the many theories made by people who have already forgotten how actually lawless fanfiction sites were, having mods would solve all the problems regarding the “moral issues” presented by Ao3. In their opinion, mods would be these perfect creature who never take sides and are always impartial, ready to defend ThE cHiLdReN from the evil, amoral content. They’d scrub the site clean from the “toxic” and “dangerous” content in order to create a wholesome environment where parents and kids alike can happily frolic together.

In truth? Nothing about mods ever worked like that. No one is able to be completely impartial, and some people only need to be given an ounce of power to lose their minds and do as they please.

On the site similar to ff.net, people were encouraged to report all the stories that didn’t strictly follow the rules of the site, including the ones where the spelling wasn’t as great as it should’ve been. It wasn’t rare to find that users had reported an account or a story simply out of revenge, because said author hadn’t commented their work favorably. If you were a fandom favorite with a lot of readers, it was also possible to find in your DM box people asking you to report and ask your readers to report someone, even if you had to make up things in order for the report to go through.

Thankfully, mods were extremely lethargic (I love the idea that people think that they’d act briskly and not sleuth around the site, posting stories with their modding accounts in order to receive a higher number of comments), so most reports ended up in stand-by, catching proverbial dust, for years and years, until everybody forgot about the report itself as well as the story, the author, and whatever had happened there.

But when they acted? Ooooh, and here’s the interesting part, because there were three options!

The story was taken down, the account banned, and the only thing left of them would be a notice from the mods that they had been stricken because they had done this, this, and a little bit of that too. But do you know who was usually hit, by this? Smaller writers, writers whose stories didn’t pull in a lot of views and comments, people who were “forgettable”. It also happened a lot with writers who would put themselves against bigger authors by writing negative reviews for their stories;

The mods closed an eye because the people and storied reported where at the top of their category in a very trafficked fandom. There was a case in which people were so distressed by the presence of a very specific story (Jewish girl falls in love with the Nazi guard that abuses her while she’s in a concentration camp), that the headmistress of the site had to write a special comment that could be viewed by all the people who were going to review that story that said that there was no reason to leave a negative review nor to report it to the mods, as it followed the rules of the site (it didn’t, but it brought in a lot of views and attention to the platform, so... it could stay!);

The mods would hunt the authors on their social medias too and ban them from the site because they’d been rude. It happened more than once, that an author was reported or they were the ones reporting, and have found themselves submersed in insults by members of the mod team on their Facebook page. Two cases:

An author was accused of having plagiarized a story written by another, more famous, user. The author denied, and asked for proof of it. The mod taking care of the case didn’t offer any, but deleted their story and blocked their account until they said they were sorry to the more famous user. In order to have their account back, the author said they were sorry to the famous user, but on their Facebook page wrote that it was a crock of shit: they hadn’t copied from that person, and the fact that the mod hadn’t offered any proof of it was suspicious enough. The mod saw that Facebook post, sent them a DM with nothing but insults, and then banned them permanently because they had been rude to the administration;

An author posted a story, and two other users plagiarized it. The author reported both stories and waited a week for the mods to send them a DM telling them to screenshot all the passages that had been copied and put them all in a document because they didn’t have time to read three different stories. Although the author complied, they wrote a post complaining about this lousy job on Facebook. The post caught the eye of another moderator who blocked their account and told them they wouldn’t have had access to the site unless they apologized to the entire team of mods, to the users they had accused of plagiarizing their story, and took down the Facebook post. In the meanwhile, the first mod was caught chatting with one of the two other users on the forum. The author didn’t back down for another two weeks, when the headmistress of the site herself showed up and told them she would’ve been the one to take care of the question. In the end, although it was clear that the two users had copied the author’s story, the author still received nasty and threatening messages from the entire mod team because of that Facebook post, to the point that they decided to delete their stories and their account altogether and move to another platform.

This is what happens with mods that are always asked to answer to reports and to take care of stories personally: authors are not protected against anything unless they are big enough to be an attraction people subscribe to the platform for. Fics with “moral backbone” issues were left up if they had the views and the comments for it.

And the readers? Well, the readers used to get the short end of the stick too, as those sites didn’t have a tag system and there wasn’t a way for them to know if a story contained something they didn’t like to read about, nor a way for them to “obscure” the ones that did. Finding specific things was a mess too.

This to say: you need to curate your own fandom experience. You are in charge of what you read, and it’s not my place to take care of the children and make sure that everything they put their saintly eyes upon is wholesome. Ao3 is the only platforms that allows the readers to have an absolutely complete control of what they consume and that allows the writers to warn the readers of every single issue their story can contain that might trouble them. Learn to curate your own fandom experience, rather than spending your time whining about “moral issues” and “think of the children”, coming up with ideas that are simply not doable on a massive site like Ao3.

#ao3 #discourse #fandom experience #purity culture

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fuckingthefictional · 4 years

Text

Runaway Lovers

Pairing: Finn Shelby x reader

Warnings: Swearing, suggestions regarding to sex, crap writing?

Requested: yes, part two requested by @hamdehlesmis

A/N: for the part where Finn writes a letter, I’ve made it so the writing is more phonics based. Because I find it unrealistic to have a character who is illiterate to suddenly start reading and writing with the knowledge of perfect grammar and spelling.

Alfie Solomons was a name that struck cold fear into some on the toughest of men.

His cool and calculating gaze was enough to send uneasy chills up anyone’s spine.

He was a man who had red on his ledger and the mighty hand of God on his side.

To most he was a cold and calculating gang leader- with the proclivity of making violent, rash decisions that mainly benefited himself and anyone lucky enough to be considered a friend.

And most were not lucky enough to have that benefit.

Y/N Y/L/N was lucky to be considered a friend- more accurately she was a close relative of the Jewish gang leader.

Alfie’s Mother, was the sister of Y/N’s mother. The two women were close, but drifted apart after they were married to their respective husbands. Only to reunite during the Great War.

That was the first time Y/N had been in proper contact with her mothers side of the family- and thank God she continued to stay in contact with them.

Otherwise her and Finn would’ve been rendered homeless and well and truly fucked.

Y/N forced herself to drag her thoughts away from what would have been, and instead focused on the passing green pasteurs that sped past the train cars window.

The lack of pollution was obvious and made a huge difference. She was able to see the colours of the night sky, along with the scattered stars- such things that felt as if they didn’t exist in Small Heath.

Y/N felt a soft kiss on a stray patch of bare skin below her ear and at the top of her jawline. Finn.

“Stop stressing love, we’ll be okay.”

It was like he had read her mind, “‘m not stressing.” She mumbled into her palm.

“If you aren’t stressing then how come your leg is bouncing?” Finn chuckled as he pressed another kiss to her temple.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course he would pick up on the finer details, it was just another reason why she loved him.

It wasn’t long before the train pulled into Camden Town Station. The whole station seemed to be rather empty- apart from one man who seemed to be waiting for the trains arrival.

He was an older gentleman, who had a scraggly beard and clutched a cane. His face was partially covered from the hat that topped his head. But on his chest, he proudly bore a necklace that held the Star of David.

It was Alfie.

He had changed a lot, the pictures that Y/N had been shown of him depicted him to be younger, lacking a beard. But the face was the same.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” The older man addressed her, a slight smirk on his face, “My god ‘ow you’ve grown- I remember when you were a bloody babe.”

She turned to Finn, a soft smile gracing her features, “Love this is Alfie, my cousin.”

Both men shook hands, each of them sizing the other up.

“Thank you for letting us stay with you.” Finn nodded at the older man, “we really appreciate it.”

“‘S nothin’ alright?” Alfie boomed loudly, “any person whose a friend of our Y/N/N is a friend of mine- now let’s get your stuff back to my ‘Ouse ‘ey?”

The two teenagers followed the older man, out of the station, their hands interlocked- ready for this next chapter of their lives.

It was difficult not knowing what their future held. And what they would face in this grey part of their lives, but Finn and Y/N knew they were lucky.

Lucky to have a place to stay, lucky to be in London. And most of all: lucky to be with each other.

Two months later Y/N and Finn were still as strong as ever, and the pair of them had both gotten jobs in Camden Town.

Finn working down at the docks, where he loaded Alfie’s spirits into the boats that would travel across the Atlantic.

Finn had been clear with his girlfriend’s cousin that he wanted no part in the extremely illegal parts of the business. In other words he didn’t want to be a front runner, Finn was quite happy working behind the scenes or on the sidelines. Doing the smaller less risky jobs that helped boost business.

Thankfully Alfie has agreed with him, saying, “If I got you in trouble yeah, or you got fuckin’ hurt- then my cousin would have my balls hanging up above the fuckin’ fireplace.”

Y/N however had a different job role. As she helped run the books, Y/N had her mothers brains, math was her forte and not to mention her and Alfie were close, and her older cousin kept her well protected and safe.

Their jobs weren't particularly high paid and they’d told Alfie that they didn’t want special treatment when it came to their pay- either way they made enough to pay their part on rent at Alfie’s house (which usually meant paying for the food and occasionally the hot water bill).

But neither Finn or Y/N were disappointed, they were employed and bringing in an income. That was more than they’d done in small Heath.

“Y’know, I finally feel like I’m apart of something,” Finn mumbled as he kissed down Y/N’s bare back, “I finally feel wanted by others, that aren’t You, Ada or Pol.”

“Finn,” The girl sighed as she turned over to face him, “You have no idea how much purpose you bring to other people.” Y/N stroked his hair softly, feeling the bouncy curls slip between her finger tips, “Finn because of you, Alfie is finally reconnecting with his blood relatives- he said that if this hadn’t happened, then he was willing to give up on family. And by coming away from the life you had in Small Heath you’re making Ada feel better about her role as a big sister.”

Finn was in a semi state of shock, he had no idea he had made that much of an impact, “And you?” He asked.

“God Finn,” Y/N pressed her forehead to his, “ever since you pulled me back from that drunk driver, I knew that my life was going to be flipped upside down- that I was going to fall in love.” She licked her lips, “I can’t imagine my life without you- you’re my constant, my everything, the love of my life.”

The auburn haired boy pulled his girl close to his chest, peppering sweet kisses to her hairline, “I love you pretty girl.”

“And I you, Freckles.”

“D’you think we should come clean to Alfie- about my family I mean.” Finn chewed on his lips nervously.

Y/N sighed, “I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow, but for now my love we should get some sleep.”

Knock, knock, knock

It was one of those rare days that Alfie was working from home, Y/N had overheard his doctor telling Alfie that he needed to take it easy and rest more.

So of course Y/N forced him to stay at home. It was odd really, the pair had only reconnected a few months ago. But already it felt as if Alfie was coming into the older brother role in Y/N’s life, whereas she was the persuasive younger sister that Alfie never had growing up.

Their dynamic was one that many had never seen, there was constant teasing and banter between the two. And Y/N had been the only one to make demands from the big scary gang leader and live to tell the tale.

“Come in.” Alfie’s muffled voice came from behind the other side of the door.

As Y/N entered the office while balancing a tea tray on her arm, when she looked up she noticed her cousin sat at his desk with his specs on, Cyril layed down at his feet.

“Morning, Alf.” Y/N smiled warmly, “I’ve brought you some tea and biscuits.” She sat down opposite him, as he started across the desk accusingly.

“What do yer want aye?” Alfie squinted his eyes, “you only ever bring me stuff when yer tryna butter me up.”

“Well Is it working?” Y/N looked at her cousin as he poured himself a cup and necked down a biscuit.

“Depends that dunnit.” Alfie responded, raising his brow.

“Well I have some news,” Y/N started fidgeting with her hands, “Some news you might not take too well.”

“Fuckin’ hell- you’re not up the bloody duff are yer?”

The teenager promptly felt herself choke on her own spit, “What?” She shouted, her eyes as round as saucers, “No!” Y/N attempted to recompose herself, “Look What I was trying to get at is that Finn belongs to a family that weren’t good to him, he ran away from his old life after his brother tried to force us apart. And we talked last night about finally coming clean to you Alf, because we appreciate all you’ve done for us and we don’t feel like we’re being truthful and-“

“Y/N!” Alfie cut off her ranted speech, “I know that Finn is a Shelby.” He stated simply, “Do you really think I don’t do background checks on my workers Y/N/N?”

“And you’re okay with him?” Y/N was still in a state of shock,

“Well,” Alfie leant forwards, “ma always taught us to not judge a book by the pissin’ cover aye? Sometimes that shit also includes certain family names.” He paused, pondering what to say next, “Look I kept an eye out for the lad in the first few weeks yous stayed ‘ere, in case there was some spyin’ goin’ on. But there wasn’t, it was just a lovestruck boy who’s willin’ to do anythin’ to make ‘is girl happy. So as far as I’m concerned Y/N/N, he’s a new branch in the Solomons family.”

Y/N could feel happy tears brimming in her eyes, she finally saw what Finn meant. She felt like she mattered, like she had purpose for the first time in a very long time.

Two months. It had been two months since Finn had just up and left. Tommy didn't think that his youngest sibling what actually hold to his word- he didn't think that Finn of all people would actually quit the family buisness and leave small heath.

And with all of that considered, Tommy didn't know where the fuck Finn had gone. And that was a first in Tommy’s experience- he didn't know something.

It was incredibly frustrating and not to mention Polly was in bits since Finn had just gone missing in action. It wasn't hard to see that there was a soft spot in his aunts heart for the youngest Shelby.

He’d had men search every major city in Britain, knowing Finn couldn’t have strayed too far off the beaten path.

The youngest Shelby never was one for spontaneity, he was too much like his mother for that- he liked to have a plan set out in front of him.

But what made the situation all the more complicated was the war Tommy had made on Sabini, if Finn was in London then there was a large chance that he was in danger.

Tommy didn’t want more blood on his hands, he didn’t know if he could handle more blood on his hands.

Dear Pol,

This leter wil onlie be short, but its a leter non the less. All you need to no is that I am safe and happie, and hav started a new life for myself. If you want to meet, then go to Ada’s on Saterday and i will meet you there.

Lots of luv and take care,

Finn

P.S- Y/N is teeching me to reed and rite, it is a work in progres- but I am lerning!

Polly grinned at the letter in front of her, it was most definitely her nephew. Despite it being in letter form, his mannerisms and language hasn’t changed.

The older woman could feel her heart swell with pride for her youngest nephew, deep down Polly knew that the Blinder lifestyle wasn’t for him.

Finn was like Ada in that way- he followed his heart. And his heart has chosen a different path than his brothers.

Polly set the letter down on her desk as she pondered what her next course of action would be, obviously she was going to Ada’s to meet her nephew on the Saturday.

However she was met with the dilemma of how she could get it past Tommy.

One one hand, Tommy was the patriarch of the family- Polly knew that she was practically obligated to tell her older nephew her plans and whereabouts.

But on the other hand, Finn was safe. He was free from a dangerous life, he was happy and he had started a new path.

And that was more than anything Tommy could offer the lad. Polly knew that Finn valued his freedom and happiness over all the money in the world.

Pulling out a cigarette, Polly fiddled with the small stick of tobacco. After igniting it, she took a deep inhale, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs.

Every piece of her heart and soul was telling her to keep Finn safe. Maybe that was just the mother hen in Polly- but she was certain on one thing.

Thomas Shelby was going to learn to live with his actions and consequences of his words, because Polly had no intention of saying a word about Finn’s whereabouts.

Peaky blinders taglist:

@simonsbluee

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peakyblinders #peakyfookinblinder #peaky blinders imagine #peakyblinder #peaky blinder fanfic #finnshelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby #harry kirton

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thetaylorfiles · 4 years

Note

To your anon asking about TTB promises. She promised no second wedding, no male pronouns or male love interests on Lover, a coming out, Karlie leaving in August, no Josh at holidays, no way they go to awards, absolutely would she not include him in her documentary because it woul be about coming out. The list is rather long. The truth is people left over stopped calling her out on always being wrong. And every month for the last 2 years dont worry, its almost over the girls are fine.

Wow. Great memory.

Let’s list all of TTBs lies, promises and predictions that never came true. For posterity.

TTB promised there would be:

[[MORE]]

1. No Joshlie wedding. At all. And no second Joshlie wedding. (Both happened!)

- in fact the plan, according to TTB was: to gently introduce Kaylor to the public.

- announce engagement > call off engagement > have Taylor be seen providing emotional support to a heartbroken Karlie > after a while, explain that spending time together amid this upset made them realize they were more than just friends!

Oops. Never happened.

2. No male pronouns on Lover (several songs with male pronouns!)

3. No male love interests on Lover (clearly a male interest in Lover. And no, London Boy isn’t satire. It’s tongue in cheek)

4. Karlie being “free” in August each and every year. (and many, many more times)

5. No Josh at holidays.

(Yet somehow they seem to be together for thanksgiving and NYE and several Jewish holidays every single year.)

6. Joe and Taylor not attending awards shows together (so far they’ve attended: Golden Globes, Cats premiere, and NME awards)

7. Joe not being included in the documentary (Taylor literally runs into his arms backstage)

8. The documentary would be about Taylor coming out

I remember (and edited to add other peoples recollections)

9. Taylor was supposed to come out after Rep tour was over.

10. Taylor was supposed to come out the day she announced her new single “ME!” In fact, the announcement was meant to be her coming out, but instead was her new single.

11. Joe would be gone before Rep Tour

12. Joe would be gone after Rep Tour.

13. Joe would be gone before Lover Promo

14. Joe would be gone after Lover release.

15. Karlie would be free from Josh literally too many times to count. She always says that the contract is up in August. Then she says Karlie re-ups.

16. Taylor was going to come out on the last day of Pride month but scrapped those plans and instead released her statement about Scooter and Scott. That the masters changed everything so she couldn’t come out.

Now, had she intended to come out, and changed her mind that very last day upon learning of the master sales, she would’ve had to:

- add 4 new songs about a male

- chang all pronouns on lover from “her” to “him”

- remanufacturing every copy (how many DNAs did that need)

- create and chang diary entries

- all this would’ve had to be done whiles Taylor spent the first week of July with her friends on vacation. And while Karlie was on a yacht with Scooter, posting several instagrams documenting it.

- Then she went straight into filming ‘Lover’ video with a man. All this in a matter of a week or two, while on vacation, right before Lover came out. (Thanks to the anon for help!)

17. She claimed Karlie never followed Joe, when in fact, she did after K’s Rep concert. A week later, she unfollowed him. Also her sisters and Josh unfollowed Taylor in that same time frame.

18. She claims that when a beard wears blue, a breakup will occur and Taylor will be free of her contract. That Taylor plans it this way. TTB has said the inevitable breakup is going to happen when Joe wears blue numerous times yet this has never come to fruition.

19. Any time there is an article about Joshlie or Joe and Taylor, ttb claims its ALWAYS “seeding” a breakup. Yet, the breakup never, ever comes. (And no one in entertainment uses the phrase “seeding”. That’s a pure conspiracy theorist term. Like “crisis actor”).

20. She once promised a nervous anon that Josh and Karlie would never actually marry. They’d only be faux engaged to make it all seem real.

21. Claimed that Karlie and Josh didn’t go to New Zealand together over the New Year. Said Josh went alone and Karlie only flew in one day to take all the pics with him- in multiple clothing changes- to get all the pics necessary for the “stunt”. Even though everyone outside of Kaylorland already believes they’re a married couple and the “stunt” got zero publicity.

22. TTB claimed many times no beard would ever attend an important event or red carpet with Taylor. Then Joe went to the Golden Globes with her, then the Cats premiere, and then the NME awards. Oops! Wrong each and every time.

23. When Joe and Taylor vacationed in the Turks and Caicos TTB claimed Joe was flown in for a quick photoshoot and flown right back out. Except the next day, he was still there and there were new pictures.

24. Claimed for MONTHS after the Joshlie wedding that it was a “photoshoot”, not a wedding. That it would soon show up in Vogue. Then it was Vogue Brazil. (The wedding was never in a magazine)

25. She also claimed it was all a giant ad for Dior. The photoshoot would be one big advertisement for Dior. (The wedding was never an ad anywhere for Dior)

26. After several Vogue magazines came and went after, TTB claimed that Josh was having the article and photoshoot put on hold so that they could release it at a time that Trump made a big gaffe and Josh would need good press. The idea being that if Trump messes up, this somehow reflects badly on Josh, though it never has.

27. TTB and Kaylors claim that the reason why Karlie and Taylor stopped hanging out in public was so as not to tarnish Taylor’s reputation by being associated with Trump. Yet, Kelle went backstage at Rep after Trump was elected.

Anyone who knows about magazines or has seen the documentary The September Issue knows that the magazine layout is planned months in advance and articles and photo shoots are put in in a timely manner. Someone like Josh would have no bearing on getting to hold it back. (The wedding never showed up in any magazine and Trump made gaffes constantly).

28. TTB also claimed that they were no longer being seen in public anymore so that the public would start to ask and wonder why they weren’t “friends” anymore. Which would “seed” a coming out story.

29. Ttb claims she’ll have definitive proof this Monday, 9/7/20/, in the form of “tea” she’s been dangling in front of her followers for months now, that will prove the existence of Kaylor.

And she posted a submission that proved absolutely nothing! Just a screenshot of Karlies insta story from May that shows the reflection of one open white umbrella and one closed white umbrella. Apparently Taylor has two white umbrella near her pool in Beverly Hills. Ttb believes this is definitive proof that Karlie and Taykor have been together in LA for months.

This was wholly underwhelming and easily disputable. Taylor’s jet has been in Utah, with Joe posting a few pics of him hiking there. Her jet has also been in RI. Then the jet went to England. While the jet doesn’t prove Taylor wasn’t in BH the whole time, it sure does make it much more likely than a reflection in glass of an umbrella.

30 TTB claims that josh posted an Instagram on 9/3 of a sunset to indicate the sun setting on his relationship with Karlie. A message sent to Kaylors. No divorce as of yet!

31. Going along with the above, TTB also claimed that she expects Joshlie to announce their divorce on 9/4/20 because it’s the slowest in the news cycle. A Friday afternoon before a holiday weekend. Yet, no divorce news and Trump calling fallen soldiers “lovers and suckers” is dominating the headlines.

32. Prior to the Kushner biography being released TTB predicted/promised that it would mention Josh’s homosexual proclivities in some way: the bearding or Mikey. And at the very least, it would paint him to be the giant criminal that she claims he is.

Instead it did nothing of the sort. It only talked about how strong his love for Karlie was. That despite his parents being unkind and unaccepting to her for several years, he stuck it out with her. It also addressed her conversion to Judaism.

33. Ttb likes to claim that Karlie never converted to Judaism. She says that because Karlie has never spoken the exact words “I converted” that it means she hasn’t. Despite the fact that many Jewish people have told her that when Karlie told Andy Cohen that she “joined the tribe” that, was, in fact, how Jewish people say they converted.

Karlie has also spoken at length in interviews and her own musings about her conversion. Ttb still refutes this and sometimes will post anons who write in questionable and anti Semitic references.

34. There was a period of time where TTB claimed that Josh needed Karlie as a beard in order to get an inheritance from an old aunt of his. This aunt stipulated in their will that he MUST be married to a woman in order to collect the money. Shockingly (to no one) TTB started claiming this right after josh and Karlie got married.

A few months later, the aunt and the inheritance disappeared never to be spoken of again. Which was absurd to begin with considering Josh is reportedly worth $800 million. Which could be off considerably, but even if it is? Even if he’s only worth $100 million? Yeah, he’s good. He doesn’t need an aunts inheritance.

35. These days (September of 2020) TTB is claiming that Karlie is staying with Josh in the contact for bearding willingly. This is a drastic change of narrative from years past when she claimed he was essentially blackmailing her to stay. For the Aunt inheritance, for not telling the world her and Taylor’s secrets, etc.

**** this hasn’t been updated in a few months. It’s now Dec. 1st. I’ll do my best to fill in a couple more below soon. There’s been a handful or two of lies that need to be recorded.****

36. People Mag announces that sources close to Karlie say she’s pregnant with Josh’s kid. Ttb refuses to believe it until Karlie herself confirms it, though in the past she has specifically stated that People is the one mag you can trust as publicists use it as a vehicle to get the truth out about their client.

36. Ttb stated emphatically and multiple times that IF Karlie is pregnant it CANNOT be a Kaylor baby because it would not tarnished by having a Kushner last name and being tied to that “organized crime” family. Nope. Taylor is in no way involved.

And now that Karlie has confirmed the pregnancy, what do uou know? Ttb conveniently changes her time, forgets all she’s said in the past and seems to be firmly on the “oh, it’s totally a Karlie/Tayklor baby. I thought so all along”.

Now, Karlie is there willingly. And when an anon asked whyC her answer was “it’s all part of the narrative.” As if that’s a sufficient answer.

37. TTB said Joe and Taylor’s career paths would never intertwine.

And now they’ve written 5 songs together. One on which he played the piano too.

There’s a lot more especially about Karlies pregnancy but I don’t have the time or energy to fill it in right now. Back soon to do it.

Anyone else remember anything specific? Let’s come up with a comprehensive list.

#taytaysbeard #ttb #ttbs lies #taytaysbeards lies #pinned post

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comrade-meow · 3 years

Photo

[‘Assignment to Slave Labour’, Auschwitz, Poland, c.1940. US Holocaust Memorial Museum.]

Menstruation and the Holocaust

Periods are a fact of life, but little talked about. How did women in the concentration camps cope with the private being made public in the most dire and extreme circumstances?

Menstruation is rarely a topic that comes to mind when we think about the Holocaust and has been largely avoided as an area of historical research. This is regrettable, as periods are a central part of women’s experience. Oral testimonies and memoirs show that women felt ashamed discussing menstruation during their time in the concentration camps, but, at the same time, they kept bringing the subject up, overcoming the stigma that is attached to them.

Typically, menstruation has been seen as a medical problem to be overcome rather than as a natural occurrence and a part of life. Medical historians, for example, have explored the forced experiments in sterilisation that were conducted in Auschwitz. Sabine Hildebrandt examined the research of the pathologist Hermann Stieve, who experimented on female political prisoners awaiting execution in Plötzensee. Stieve looked at the effect stress had on the reproductive system. Similarly, Anna Hájková has written about the Jewish Theresienstadt prisoner and physician František Bass’ research on amenorrhoea, the loss of menstruation, which focused on how it was caused by the shock of incarceration. Interestingly, however, almost all this research discussed ovulation (and its lack) rather than menstruation, even though both are part of the same biological function.

Periods impacted on the lives of female Holocaust victims in a variety of ways: for many, menstruation was linked to the shame of bleeding in public and the discomfort of dealing with it. Periods also saved some women from being sexually assaulted. Equally, amenorrhoea could be a source of anxiety: about fertility, the implications for their lives after the camps and about having children in the future.

A much-cited argument in Holocaust scholarship, made by Hannah Arendt, is that the totalitarian regime of the camps broke human solidarity, making them a very isolating place to be. But, contrary to this view, periods could provide moments of bonding and solidarity among prisoners: many older women gave help to teenagers, who experienced their first period alone after their families had been murdered. When we look for it, many survivors talk with great openness about their periods. Having or not having a period could shape daily experience of the camps.

What is a woman?

After deportation to camps and ghettos, due to malnutrition and shock, a significant number of female Holocaust victims of reproductive age stopped menstruating. Many were afraid that they would be left infertile after their bodies were forced to their limits, making the intrinsic link between periods and fertility apparent and increasingly central to their lives. Gerda Weissman, originally from Bielsko in Poland and 15 years old during her incarceration, later reflected that a key reason she wanted to survive was because she wanted to have children. She described it as ‘an obsession’. Similarly, the French publicist, resistance fighter and Auschwitz survivor Charlotte Delbo mentions a discussion that took place among a room full of women:

“It’s upsetting not to go through those unclean period … You begin to feel like an old woman. Timidly, Big Irene asked: ‘And what if they never come back afterwards?’ At her words a ripple of horror swept over us … Catholics crossed over themselves, others recited the Shema; everyone tried to exorcise this curse the German were holding over us: sterility. How could one sleep after that?”

These reactions reflected both religious and cultural diversity, showing that regardless of faith, culture or nationality, it was a worry all could relate to. The historian of Holocaust literature S. Lillian Kremer argued that, in addition to the fear of becoming infertile, the prisoners’ uncertainty over whether their fertility would return if they survived made the loss of menstruation a ‘dual psychological assault’ on female identity.

Upon entry into the camp, prisoners were given shapeless clothing and had their heads shaved. They lost weight, including from their hips and breasts, two areas commonly associated with femininity. Oral testimonies and memoirs show that all of these changes compelled them to question their identities. When reflecting on her time in Auschwitz, Erna Rubinstein, a Polish Jew who was 17 when in the camps, asked in her memoir, The Survivor in Us All: Four Young Sisters in the Holocaust (1986): ‘What is a woman without her glory on her head, without hair? A woman who doesn’t menstruate?’

[Untitled drawing by Nina Jirsíková, 1941. Remembrance and Memorial Ravensbrück/SBG, V780 E1.]

It is only due to the commercialisation of a natural physical occurrence that we now have resources such as pads and tampons that are specifically geared towards easing the ‘inconvenience’ of menstruation. Terms such as ‘sanitary equipment’ show that menstruation is treated as a health and hygiene concern - something to be sanitised. The reality of the camps, however, meant that menstruation was hard to avoid or hide. Its suddenly public nature took many women by surprise and made them feel alienated. An additional obstacle was the lack of rags and the lack of opportunities to wash. Trude Levi, a Jewish-Hungarian nursery teacher, then aged 20, later recalled: ‘We had no water to wash ourselves, we had no underwear. We could go nowhere. Everything was sticking to us, and for me, that was perhaps the most dehumanising thing of everything.’ Many women have talked about how menstruating with no access to supplies made them feel subhuman. It is the specific ‘dirt’ of menstruation more than any other dirt, and the fact that their menstrual blood marked them as female, that made these women feel as though they were the lowest level of humanity.

The humiliation was furthered by the struggle of finding rags. Julia Lentini, a 17-year-old Romani from Biedenkopf in Germany, spent her summer months travelling through the country with her parents and 14 siblings. She was placed on kitchen detail during her time in Auschwitz-Birkenau and later Schlieben. She discusses in her testimony how women had to learn tricks for survival when it came to menstruation in the camps. ‘You took the undergarment slip they gave you, ripped it and made little rags, and guarded those little rags like they were gold … you rinsed them out a little bit, put them under the mattress and dried them, then nobody else could steal the little rags.’ Rags were precious and, being so, they were not immune to theft. Some people compensated by using other materials. Gerda Weissman recalls: ‘It was a hard thing because you had no supplies you know. You had to find little pieces of paper and some things from under the loos.’

Rags could almost be considered to have their own micro-economy. As well as being stolen, they were given away, borrowed and traded. Elizabeth Feldman de Jong’s testimony highlights the value of second-hand rags. Not long after she arrived at Auschwitz, her periods disappeared. Her sister, however, continued to menstruate every month. Experiments involving injections in the womb were common, but if a woman was on her period doctors often avoided operating, finding it too messy. One day, Elizabeth was called to have an operation. There were no clean clothes as opportunities to wash were limited, so Elizabeth put her sister’s underwear on and showed the doctor, telling him that she had her period. He refused to operate. Elizabeth realised she could use her sister’s situation to save herself from experimentation and did so another three times at Auschwitz.

Shame and salvation

Livia Jackson, barely old enough to menstruate, felt repulsion at seeing blood flowing down the legs of another girl during roll call: ‘I would rather die than have blood flowing down my legs.’ Her reaction conveys a common attitude: although the lack of access to supplies to stem their menstrual flow was not their fault, many women still felt ashamed.

Scholar Breanne Fahs argues that women’s bodies are viewed as ‘leaky and troublesome’ and their bodily functions are seen as inconvenient, distasteful and unhygienic. Men, on the other hand, tend to receive praise for their secretions: urine, flatulence and semen can be seen as humorous, even sexy. Yet the very notion that periods are repulsive could save women during the Holocaust from being raped. Doris Bergen’s classic discussion of sexual violence in the Holocaust includes an interesting example of two Polish-Jewish women assaulted by Wehrmacht soldiers:

On 18 February 1940 in Petrikau, two sentries … abducted the Jewess Machmanowic (age eighteen) and the Jewess Santowska (age seventeen) at gunpoint from their parents’ homes. The soldiers took the girls to the Polish cemetery; there they raped one of them. The other was having a period at the time. The men told her to come back in a few days and promised her five zlotys.

Similarly, Lucille Eichengreen, a young German-Jewish prisoner, recalled in her memoir that during her imprisonment in a Neuengamme satellite camp in the winter of 1944-5, she had found a scarf and was thrilled: she planned to use it to cover her shorn head. Worried that she would be punished for owning a prohibited object, Eichengreen hid the scarf between her legs. Later, a German guard took her aside and, while attempting to rape her, groped her between her legs and felt the scarf. The man exclaimed: ‘You dirty useless whore! Phooey! You’re bleeding!’ His error protected Lucille from rape. In discussing these stories, we must discern the irony at hand: it is rape that should be viewed as disgusting and menstruation as natural and acceptable.

Camp families

Some teenagers experienced their first period in the camps alone, separated from their families or orphaned. In such cases, older prisoners provided help and advice. Tania Kauppila, a Ukrainian in Mühldorf concentration camp, was 13 when she started her periods. She did not know what was happening and shed many tears. She was scared that she was going to die and did not know what to do. Older women in the camp taught her and others in the same position about periods. The girls were taught how to handle it and what they needed to do in order to cope with the blood flow. It was a different learning process than they would have had at home: ‘You tried to steal a piece of brown paper, you know, from the bags and do the best you can’, recalled Kauppila. This story reoccurs across numerous oral testimonies. Many orphaned survivors who had just started mentioned the help of older women, who took on both a sisterly and motherly role in helping these young girls, before they experienced potential amenorrhoea; older women usually lost their period within the first two or three months of imprisonment.

Feminist scholars such as Sibyl Milton have pointed out the female ‘camp families’ that formed. It is striking, however, that the sisterhood of menstruation has not been written about. As Lentini highlights, if a girl got her period and did not know who to talk to, an older woman would usually ‘explain it very simply’. Twenty-year-old Hungarian Vera Federman spent time in Auschwitz and the Allendorf. She and a friend were able to get work in the kitchen, a precious job. Eating extra potatoes caused their periods to come back and then both girls stole rags from the female guards. This theft, of course, put them in great danger (not to mention the threat of losing their job), but Federman stressed the solidarity with her friend as they teamed up to help each other. In the often violent world of the camps, older women were willing to help educate unknown young girls, expecting nothing in return.

Gendered social networks of support and help developed in the camps. Arendt wrote that ‘the camps are meant not only to exterminate people and degrade human beings, but also serve the ghastly experiment of eliminating, under scientifically controlled conditions, spontaneity itself as an expression of human behaviour’. The female solidarity brought about by the shared experience of menstruation, however, tells another story.

After the liberation, the majority of those who suffered amenorrhoea during their time in the concentration camps eventually started menstruating again. The return of periods was a joyous occasion for many. London-born Amy Zahl Gottlieb was, at 24, the youngest member of the first Jewish Relief Unit ever posted overseas. While discussing her work with liberated camp members in her interview with the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Gottlieb described how women began to lead normal lives and started to menstruate again; they were thrilled to be able to start having children. Menstruation became a symbol of their freedom. One survivor spoke of it as ‘my womanhood returning’.

The study of menstruation, a topic that has until now been perceived as irrelevant, or even disgusting, gives us a far more nuanced view of women’s experience of the Holocaust. We can see how notions of menstruation, rape, sterility and sisterhood changed in the camps. It seems that periods, a long-stigmatised topic, became, sometimes in the space of only months, a legitimate topic for women in camps.

Following the recent turns to cultural history, the history of the senses and the history of the body, we also need to recognise menstruation as valid and as defining victims’ experiences during the Holocaust.

(via)

European Network of Migrant Women

#Anglo.txt

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