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kai-anderson-whore · 11 months

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Best friends cousin part 2 (smut) (Warren lipka x fem reader)

Warnings: time skip were the reader is now 25, Warren's imprisonment, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, drunk sex, mentions of social work system, family members passing, mentions of the robbery

Taglist: @spill-the-t @iluwmycats @lili-tate @evanpeterswifeyy868 @jademunson @evanpetersfansblog @howtobesasha @lustforeverrrr @fand0mh03

A/n: this took so long and I hate it

Word count: 2,9k

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

It had been years since you last saw Warren the next time you went to Rick's place was two weeks after you seen Warren he was gone. He moved in with his dad till he got his own place but that never happened you found out about the robbery he committed just when you turned 18 two months after you last seen him.

You hadn't thought about him in a long while finally gotten over you little crush. You spent month after his arrest with Rick trying to help him through his cousins arrest but after it you hadn't heard anything about Warren.

It's now 2012 You were now twenty five and attending Rick's birthday party you wore a tight black fitted dress that hugged your curves perfectly showing just enough cleavage. You hadn't had a night out in a while since you were busy with work. You decide to do babysitting as a career you took your course in social care but dropped out since it had brought up bad memories.

Your makeup on heels on your feet you were ready to go, you called Rick telling him you were on way to his since you'd be leaving your car there and getting a cab with them to the venue. Rick still lived with his mom so you were excited to see them again since you've been working to make extra few bucks.

You finally made it to Rick's parking your car in the driveway, you entered the house being greeted by Zak who was now sixteen, "What's up y/n" he smiled "hey bud" you smiled bringing him in for a hug he now knew you weren't really cousins but still didn't change how he saw you as his big cousin. Zak entered his room trying to find his shoes that he'd been searching for a while.

You went to the kitchen seeing Rick's mom and dad In there talking, "hello auntie Lisa's gorgeous girl" Lisa beamed bringing you in for her infamous hugs "Hey aunt Lisa, hi uncle tommy" you smiled Rick's dad brought you in for a hug too. You knew Rick's parents were on good terms but not back together either way you still treated Rick's dad the same as always since he was a huge part of your childhood.

"Where's the birthday boy" you asked placing the gift bag you brought with you on the counter. "He's out the balcony sweetheart" Lisa said you nodded going to the balcony. You saw Rick there just staring into the nothingness. "Rick you okay?" You asked furrowing your brows he was always excited on his birthday.

"Just thinking that's all" he sighed the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, "about?" You asked you had a feeling but you didn't want to just say it. "Just it's gets harder without my grandparents you know" he sighed again wiping his eyes you pulled your chair closer to him wrapping an arm around him.

"I know honey it doesn't get any easier when my granma passed and without the kids but I know for a fact they wouldn't want you to be crying on your day they would want you to be happy having the time of your life your twenty five now Rick" you said pulling your best friend closer to you.

"You right y/n thanks your the best" he said resting his head on yours, "now come on birthday boy let's get our skates on" you joked taking his hand as he laughed, "you sound so fucking old".

"What only two weeks older than you" you joked.

At the venue you were now a good few drinks in dancing away with Rick talking to your friends and his family enjoying yourself. You Decided it was time for another drink making your way to the bar ordering yourself a pink gin and lemonade. You didn't notice anyone there till a familiar voice behind you spoke.

"Well isn't it zaks favourite" you turned around to see the man you used to have a major crush on Warren. "Oh my god Warren" you smiled bringing him in for a hug if you were sober you probably wouldn't have since you were a naturally shy person. "Look at you all grown up" he smiled pulling away from the hug taking a sip of his beer.

"Can say the same for you how have you been when did you get out?" You asked as the bartender handed you your drink. "I've been alright I got out a good few months ago got my own place down the road from Lisa's and I'm back at college turning my life around how about you?".

"Yeah alright I got a job in babysitting studying social work didn't work out" you shrugged Warren nodded understandingly "how's everything going with that you know social Work?" He asked knowing what had happened, "we got them back four years ago it's been amazing since then thank you for asking" you smiled referring to your siblings.

You and Warren talked for the majority of the night about anything and everything till you were both staggering outside for a cigarette. You stood there (well tried) smoking your cigarette talking to Warren. He couldn't believe how beautiful you were he knew it was wrong since you were his cousins best friend but he couldn't help but feel attracted to you in a way he never felt for anyone else.

Warren couldn't contain himself anymore he crashed his lips on yours taking you by shock but you held his cheek with your free hand. The kiss was greedy and hungry Warren's tongue swiped across your bottom lip seeking entry you parted your lips allowing your tongues to move in sync. You threw away your cigarette your hands ran through his hair.

You could feel the pool in your panties, the heat rising in your body, the need for him growing. Pulling away for air you gasped Warren's hands now on your hips your back against the wall. "How about we go back to my place?" He asked his eyes dark with lust a drunk smirk on his lips all you did was bite your swollen bottom lip nodding.

Luckily a cab was driving by Warren waved it over both of you hopping into the vehicle. The drive was probably uncomfortable for the driver since all you and Warren did was share kisses and him whisping dirty things in your ear making you squeeze your thighs together trying to dull your throbbing heat.

Warren's hand on your thigh dangerously high up, you trying not to say anything incase it caught the drivers attention but luckily you make it to Warren's house on time. Paying the driver thanking him, you and Warren quickly left the car and rushed into his house. Before you could even take in his house Warren kicked the door shut pinning your body to the wall. His lips attacking yours.

A moan escaped your lips the cold wall hit your exposed skin making Warren smirk and goosebumps rise on your skin, one of his hands on your hip the other grabbing your breast squeezing the skin covered by the black material and lace bra. Warren's lips traveling down your neck finding your sweet spot sucking and slightly biting the flesh making you moan again.

You tilted your hips up desperate for friction warren pulled away from your neck panting slightly impressed with the marking he made on your skin. Taking your hand guiding you to his bedroom the anticipation was too much for you as he helped you out your dress you immediately felt insecure as he just stared at your body cover by your bra and panties.

But those insecurities faded away with what Warren said to you "you're so fucking beautiful" placing his lips back on yours your hands pulling his t-shirt off his body discarding it on the floor. Warren backing you on the bed hovering over you his lips back on your neck marking you more a sigh leaving your lips, mind clouded with lust.

With one swift motion Warren

unclasped your bra tossing it somewhere, his lips then trailed to the valley of your breasts before taking your nipple in his mouth soft moans leaving your lips your back arching. "Warren please" you whimperd your breathing began you get shaky with desperation.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked with a shit eating grin on his face he knew what he was doing, you felt embarrassed to say it but so desperate for him right now and with the alcohol you didn't care, "I want you to fuck me please" you begged warrens grin grew wider his hands hooking your underwear.

"What with? My fingers, tongue or dick?" He chuckled slipping your panties off your legs. You didn't care what he fucked you with you just needed him, "anything Warren just please" you whined Warren knelt down now face to face with your core kissing your thighs to where you needed him most.

"God your so wet for me already and we haven't even got to the good part" he remarked spreading your legs further apart. Licking a strip along your slick folds making you gasp at the feeling. His tongue circles your clit reducing you to a moaning mess.

"Fuck warren don't stop please" you moaned your hands tugging his locks keeping him close as he ate you out like his last meal. He then pumped a finger into your entrance rolling your eyes back your chest rising and falling. Warren never took his eyes off you for a second adding another finger into you pumping his digits along your slick walls you clenching around his fingers.

You didn't know what it was if it was the alcohol that made you feel this good or if Warren was really amazing at this but it didn't take you long to release all over his fingers Warren pulled his digits out of you licking up your release moaning into you your legs slightly shaking at the stimulation.

Warren pulled away from you licking your juices off his fingers before coming back up to face you. "God you tasted so good baby I can't wait to be inside you" his voice was deeper with the lust he had for you.

Warren kissed you one more time before pulling away to discard his remaining clothes. You sat yourself up on your elbows watching the view almost drooling at the size he was bigger than you thought and thick you wondered how he was going to fit. Giving himself a few tugs before lining himself up with your throbbing desperate entrance.

You both moaned in union at the feeling of him filling you up perfectly a mix of both pain and pleasure since it had been a good while since you were intimate with anyone. You gripped on Warren's biceps as you got used to the feeling. "God your so tight" he whispered his lips inches away from your own one's.

You bucked your hips up signalling him to start moving. Warren started in a slow pace your breath hitched feeling all of him, you felt amazing like no one else had made you feel in the matter of minutes. You eyes rolled back, your mouth slack open. Warren's head dipped down to your neck his hot breath tingling your flustered skin sending you crazy.

"Oh fuck faster please" you moaned out bucking your hips up your nails digging into his skin, Warren's thrusted faster into you and harder making your eyes roll back with every thrust. You couldn't get enough the sound of your skin hitting off each other combined with your moans drove you and Warren wild.

Before you knew it Warren pulled out of you "I want you on all fours" his voice deep and husky making you do as he said your ass infront of his wiggling infront of him teasingly. You let out a strangled moan as Warren's hand collided with your ass making your body jolt forward. "You like that huh?" You could almost hear the smirk in his voice making you grow more wetter by the second.

"Mhmm" you hummed.

You felt Warren's cock tease your slick wet folds making you move your hips desperate for friction. "I can't hear you darling" the nickname you would have hated if it came from anyone else you now loved. "Yes Warren please do it again" you whined feeling Warren's hand slap you once again a loud moan leaving your lips. The now red flesh stung under his palm as he soothed the skin.

Without warning Warren entered your dripping wet pussy you moaned once again as he delivered harsh thrust fucking you relentlessly. "Fuck yes, yes" you yelled your hips meeting his thrust. Your hands gripped the bedsheets beneath you for leverage, your tits bounced with each hard drive he sent you.

"God your so wet" he hissed his hands gripped your hips pulling them back with his movements. You felt close to your sweet release your gummy walls tightening around Warren who pulled you up by the neck giving it a light squeeze till your back was flush against his chest. Sending thrust upwards his lips attacked your neck one of his hands on your neck lightly choking you the other fondling your breast.

"Fuck I'm so close" you warned reaching your hand to his hair tugging on his locks earning a groan from the man behind you fucking you like none other had ever done before. "Me too baby" he whispered againt your neck the hand that was on your neck now reaching down to rub your clit bringing you over the edge.

You came over his cock with a loud moan Warren's lips still on your neck as his own orgasm washed over him coating your walls with his seed. Coming down from your blissful high you leaned back on Warren's chest panting a light giggle left your lips before getting off him with a whimper.

"What's so funny" he smiled tiredly handing you a towel.

"Nothing just never thought that would happen" you explained cleaning yourself before throwing the towel in the dirty laundry basket at the side of the room. Collapsing on the pillows your eyes growing heavy from the alcohol and being fucked senseless. "Neither but that was probably the best I ever had" he chuckles pulling a clean pair of boxers on handing you a t-shirt.

Now covered up by Warren's shirt you laid back on the pillows. "Rick can't know" you said knowing he wouldn't be mad but will not let you live it down. "Agreed but we should do it again I really enjoyed it" Warren said wrapping an arm around you.

The next morning you woke up with Warren spooning you. His arm wrapped securely around you it felt nice laying like this you didn't want to move oddly enough. But you knew it was wrong of you to even be in his bed in the first place.

You felt Warren shift behind you making you turn around to face him. "Well isn't this a pretty sight to wake up to" he smiled you couldn't help but get all shy hiding your face in his chest making him chuckle. "God I smell like shit" you grimced you could still smell the alcohol and sex off you both Warren offered you both to share a shower to "save water" but it was to have sex again which you didn't mind.

Weeks went by you and Warren spent more time together getting closer you were at Rick's a lot more seeing everyone sneaking around sharing kisses when no one was looking or at outings with Rick you would hold hands under the table like you were secretly dating but you weren't it was a bit of fun till one night.

You laid on Warren's chest drawing patterns, tangled together after your recent activities Warren stayed silent deep in thought. You glanced up noticing this "penny for your thoughts" you said as he looked down at you contemplating if he should tell you wants on his mind or not.

"Y/n we've known each other for a long time" he started you nodded letting him continue "and this between us well to me isn't just you know sex" you furrowed your brows "what do you mean?" You asked feeling nervous about what he would say next.

"I mean I like you a lot and well if you want to I think we should make it official you know dating" he said you couldn't help but smile pressing your lips to his.

"So is that a yes?" He asked with a grin on his face. "Yes" you answered kissing him again. The kiss was soft his hand cupping your cheek not wanting you to go anywhere till you broke the kiss laughing. "What's so funny?" He asked he couldn't help but stare at you the way your dimples would be on full display your nose crinkling as you laughed.

"I just thought we can skip the while meeting the family thing since we've known each others family for years" you said resting your chin on his chest. "True but at least the hard part is over since obviously my family adore you" Warren remarked his fingertips gazing over your arm as you felt the dawn of the night weigh on you.

"Yeah let's get some sleep" you yawned snuggling yourself into Warren's chest. "Goodnight babe" he yawned getting himself comfortable as you both drifted into your slumber.

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

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Field of Poppies Part 25

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 25: Some have trouble adapting to home again. Some are gearing up for trouble they’re going to cause.

By August of that year, Barney was locked away in the asylum. It happened so suddenly. Although he certainly hadn’t been himself since his last gunshot wound in the trenches, everyone had hoped that he would reacclimate as time went on. But his behavior only got worse. He was prone to violent outbursts that he didn’t even remember seconds after.

Tommy and the rest of the 179th did their best to try and keep him calm and out of trouble. But there was only so much they could do. A few episodes at the Garrison was one thing. Harry could accept that the man was clearly out of his mind and not doing it on purpose. But the rest of the public world couldn’t understand.

Barney was arrested a few times. But his was committed after he bit a cop and tried to escape jail. He was deemed insane soon after.

Amelia knew Tommy took it very hard. They all did. These men who were parts of their lives were suddenly changed beyond a point of return. And there was nothing they could do about it. They couldn’t visit Barney and they couldn’t get Danny’s fits under control either.

Rosie was at her wit's end and relied heavily on support from Amelia. Consequently, this allowed Tommy to slip back into his habits of working all hours of the day.

Amelia noticed this a few months in, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Before the war, she had no problem laying into him about working himself to death. But after? Well, she didn’t know what to even say. She felt guilty about being strict about anything. In her mind, he had been through enough. Why should she scold him on something that was small compared to the grand scheme of things?

But she wasn’t blind either. Amelia was aware that he never slept more than a few hours at a time. She couldn’t find the warmth in his eyes anymore. He was less outspoken than before and had a habit of sitting in stony silence instead of speaking out. He was energetic with the kids, at least as much as he could be on the amount of sleep he was getting.

Amelia was grateful for that. Although it hurt to know Tommy had changed so much, at least the kids wouldn’t realize.

~~~~~~~~~~

Amelia went into the betting shop one sweltering afternoon to bring Tommy lunch. He hadn’t eaten that morning and had been absent during dinner the night before. But there was no sign of him. She went into Arthur’s office to see where he was.

“He came in early this morning, was here before everyone else.” Her brother-in-law answered. “He left ‘bout an hour ago saying he would be back later.”

“He didn’t say where he would be?” Amelia asked, her concern growing.

Arthur shook his head. “I asked but he never answered.”

She chewed on her lip. “Okay…well.” She considered waiting but figured her nerves would get the better of her. “Here, you can have this.” She gave Arthur the lunch before leaving the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~

Small Heath wasn’t particularly large, but that didn’t mean he was even there. He could’ve gone beyond the neighborhood. She started with Charlie’s Yard. That’s where Annie and Max were for the day. They were cranky inside because of the heat so she sent them to both Charlie for the morning.

“Haven’t seen him,” Charlie said, sitting on a stool in the shade while he watched the kids. Curly was showing them a grasshopper he’d found in one of the horse stalls. The kids were so taken by the discovery that they didn’t even notice their mother arriving.

“Do you know where he might’ve gone?” Amelia asked hopefully.

“Whenever he’d get in a mood, he’d go to the graveyard to visit his mum,” Charlie replied. “I’d look there.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said gratefully, hoping Tommy’s uncle was right.

Across the yard, Annie squealed. The grasshopper had jumped out of Curly’s cupped hand and was on the loose. Max ran to try and catch it again. They were both so caught up in the summer fun, that she wasn’t going to interrupt it with her nerves.

“I’ll be back to take them off your hands,” Amelia promised Charlie.

“S’alright. They’re not hurting anyone.” He nodded before she went off toward the graveyard.

~~~~~~~~~~

Charlie was right. Amelia found Tommy among the overgrown grass and crooked headstones. But he wasn’t standing in front of his mother’s grave. Hers was a few rows down. No, he was standing in the newer section in front of a newer plot.

“Tom.” Amelia hated interrupting him while he was in deep thought, but she was just thankful she’d found him.

He glanced over his shoulder. Without saying anything, he reached for her hand. She took it as she stood beside him. That’s when she noticed they were in front of Greta Jurossi’s grave.

“When I got the letter from you, the one where you said she had died, I didn’t believe it.” He spoke in a quiet voice, just loud enough to hear over the sound of cicadas in the grass. “I dunno, I just thought she was going to be the one to upset the system. One of those historical figures that people talk about.”

Amelia knew that he and Greta shared the same ideologies. Aspirations that she was afraid of but Greta wasn’t. He had respect for her.

“I know.” She said gently. “She would come by sometimes to the shop. She and Polly would always get worked up about the rights of women and the working class.” She smiled weakly.

Tommy nodded, his eyes staring into space. “You were right, though.”

“About what?”

“When you came back, I was telling you about the communist group. You didn’t think it was enough to change the world.” He recalled. “And you were right.”

“Tom…”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing more to say.”

Young Tommy Shelby had so many dreams and a drive to change everything he saw as unjust. But the world had taken him in its fist and squeezed the convictions out of him. It had forced him into the mold of a soldier. Forced him to comply. Killed off Greta, killed her message.

But Tommy wasn’t dead yet. There was a new fire lit inside of him. “Politics, laws, parties. It doesn’t matter. You can’t win if you play by their rules.”

“So, what are you-”

He began to walk back down the path, still holding her hand. “Everything will be alright.” He promised her. “You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The two went back to the Yard to bring the children home with them. Charlie was still taking refuge in the shade, smoking a pipe and watching Annie running around in the mud.

“You found him then.” He commented as Amelia and Tommy came up to him.

“Not a lot of places you can hide in Small Heath,” Tommy replied to his uncle.

“I hope they weren’t a fuss, Charlie.” Amelia ignored her husband’s glib response.

“I’ll tell you what, that boy of yours is just like you, Tom,” Charlie remarked. “Full of energy but once he’s around a horse, he’s quiet as a mouse.”

“I’m sure you taught him well then.”

“I didn’t teach him anything.” He shook his head. ��Must be the Traveler blood in him.”

“He doesn’t have Traveler blood, Charlie,” Tommy muttered in reply.

“Well, then it’s fucking intuition, hell if I know.” His uncle rolled his eyes, his pipe still tucked between his lips as he spoke.

“Hell, if you know.” Tommy shook his head. “You better not have been teaching him that kind of fucking language.” He warned before heading toward the horse stalls to find Max.

“That one has Traveler blood in her.” Charlie pointed his pipe toward Annie. The little girl had ruined her skirt by stomping around in the mud by the canal. She had a loose hold on her teddy bear that seemed just as filthy from the morning’s play.

“You think?”

“Reminds me of Pol when she was little. An absolute terror but you’d be happy to see her come around. Max will be a gifted rider, like Tom. But Annie won’t back down from a challenge, no matter how many times she’s bucked off.”

The thought of her precious daughter being bucked off a horse was a nightmare to Amelia. But she knew that there was no forcing Annie into being someone she wasn’t. Amelia knew that all too well. Her family wanted her to be a lady of high society. They wanted her to be proper, educated but not too educated, and a million miles beyond Small Heath. But she was aware that she was a girl of lower class. Her upbringing was nothing compared to the socialites in London. She ran the streets with the Shelbys much to her parents’ discontent. And while she wasn’t as fierce and feisty as Tommy and Arthur, she didn’t mind living in Small Heath. She loved the people there.

The more her parents pushed, the more she rebelled. In London, she felt empty. She had no friends because all the girls her age were boring to her. London felt cold and desolate to her. Sure, the place they lived in was nicer, but it didn’t matter.

So, if Annie wanted to be a wild girl who flocked to dangerous horses, then there really wasn’t a thing Amelia could do about it. Not with Tommy’s blood in her.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Not even half a year since he’s come back and you’re already up the duff, again.”

Martha and Amelia snickered behind their hands. It was true. Martha was pregnant again and Polly was bewildered by the revelation.

“Oh, Pol, it’s okay.” Amelia smiled. "It was bound to happen once John came back."

“You and John are getting your own flat, or I'll get my own. I’ve had more than enough newborns in this house at one time.” Polly replied firmly.

“I suppose that’s only fair.” Martha agreed. Six Watery Lane had become quite the den of rascals. “At least John is home and can help me with the other two."

“And make sure he does. Those three have been working themselves to death.” Polly shook her head in disapproval. “And it’s all Tommy’s doing.” She glanced at Amelia.

“I think they’re just trying to find their place in the world again.” Amelia shrugged. “Remember when they were gone? We had to adapt to the world. Now they do too.”

Polly didn’t look convinced. “When a Shelby man is working like the devil, that means there’s going to be trouble.” She warned.

It did speak to the conversation she and Tommy had earlier in the graveyard. “He did seem to have some plans.” She admitted. “But he didn’t say what.”

Polly continued to smoke by the kitchen table where Amelia and Martha were sitting. “One can only guess what goes on in that head of his.”

Amelia looked down at her lap. As his wife, she thought she would be the one to know. But she felt just as blind as the rest of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a rare night, but one that Amelia rejoiced in having. After dinner, she got the kids washed up and put in bed. After Tommy kissed them each goodnight, he returned to the master bedroom and caught Amelia before she even made it to her vanity.

Without a word, he kissed her deeply. He pressed her up against the door as he locked it to avoid any awkward situations if one of the children wandered in unannounced.

It was so easy for Amelia to forget everything when Tommy held her. She could rejoice in the fact that in those brief moments, she was taken care of. There was nothing to interrupt them, nothing to cause them harm, it was just the two of them. They were the moments Amelia yearned for when he was in France. The moments where she could keep him close and cast aside the ugliness of the world.

But the feeling couldn’t last and they were brought back to Earth as the night wore on. Still, they enjoyed each other’s company in the dead hours of the night. Amelia curled up in the crook of his arm, tracing the new scars on his chest that he’d obtained in the trenches. He held her close as he smoked.

Eventually, he broke the silence and uttered a rare confession to her. “I’m going to do bad things, Mel.”

The admission sent a chill up her spine. Yet, it was something she already knew. Something she’d known even in childhood when adults would comment on Tommy’s proclivity for mischief. When they remarked how his father was nothing but a waste of space. When they speculated how Tommy would live up to the Shelby name. A name cursed.

“I know.” She whispered. From then on, she was complicit. Her wish to stay in Small Heath as a child had brought her to that point. Her wishes for Tommy to stay out of danger had fallen upon deaf ears as she should’ve realized. But if she wanted a quiet, polite, bland husband, she would’ve stayed in London to marry one. Instead, she was with someone who was destined to be one of the most dangerous men in Britain.

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celestialinent · 3 years

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someday it will fit just right

on ao3

In 2 years, Steve would spend his first night truly hungry. In 5 years, he would stand in a cold little cemetery and bury his mother. In 8 years, he would deliver food to the silent Barnes family as they sat shiva. In 11 years, he would go into a tiny metal box and come out a freak. In 14 years, he would die.

But on April 17th, 1931, Steve Rogers woke up to Sarah Rogers singing in her clear voice, thrilled to celebrate her only son’s 13th birthday.

He and Fiona stumbled out from behind the thick curtain that cut the little nook at the far side of the flat where he slept. There were boxty and eggs on the table, and Ma wasn’t even tired, because she had three days off all in a row. He was still young enough not to question the luck. He wasn’t aware that Sarah had begged and traded with the other nurses to get the days, promising to work shifts no one wanted, knowing it would hurt their purse at the end of the month and doing it anyway to make her boy happy.

“Stiofán,” she greeted him, and Steve smiled. She only called him by his Irish name when she was in the best moods, and as he got older and the trouble he got up to got more bloody, that name was used less and less.

Fiona always slept as a cougar, because her furry bulk was the best thing to keep him warm in their drafty flat, but she usually changed before they even got out of bed. Big cats might be good for keeping little boys with dicky lungs, but they weren’t so good for navigating the tight space of the Rogers’s home. She didn’t change this morning, however.

Steve sent her a frown, even as he sidestepped her to get to the table.

Aodhan, perched on a rickety wooden chair to Sarah’s left, watched the pair with his intelligent brown eyes.

“How’s my wee man?” Sarah asked when Steve had sat. Fiona came to rest next to him, her big head almost as high as his. “Any big plans for today?”

Steve blushed. “Bucky and I were gonna go to the park,” he answered. But they’d planned that ages ago, before Ma had gotten the days off. And they were really only going because Bucky had heard from Teddy Russo that Theresa and Dot Bianchi would be there with their older sister Valentina. Bucky was absolutely dizzy for just about every girl in the Bianchi family.

To be honest, Bucky was dizzy for all the girls. He was 14 this year, and apparently, his Uncle Isaac had told Bucky that that was the age that “everything started to make sense” with girls. Whatever in the Sam-Hell that meant.

“We don’t have to, though,” Steve said. And he meant it. Spending a few hours watching Bucky watching dames didn’t sound like any fun, and it was his birthday, so if he told Bucky he wanted to do something else he wouldn’t be sore at him. “Bucky could just bring the girls over and we could play games or something.”

Even if Steve didn’t think spending his 13th birthday with Bucky’s little sisters was the best way to celebrate he wouldn’t want to exclude them. Bucky hated dragging Becca and Judy and Rachel along when they went places, but Steve thought the girls were just swell. He’d never had a sister or a brother, and never would most likely, so the novelty was nice.

Steve’s Ma just smiled. “No, no. You and Bucky should go. Bein’ thirteen is important, a leanbh . Before we know it you’ll be old and won’t get to spend all your time with Bucky Barnes.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Bucky and me’ll always spend time together, Ma,” he promised. “We’re friends forever.”

What was meant to be a reassurance, however, seemed to kill his Ma’s grin. She sent him a soft, sad look before tucking into breakfast. “I hope so, Stiofán. But don’t think you won’t get old.”

“I’m only thirteen, Ma!” Steve protested. Fiona leaned her head against his side sympathetically, and the weight of her sent him listing to the side for a moment.

“Fi, stoppit!” he giggled. “Why’re you so big?”

Fiona, looking contrite, seemed to shiver in her skin like she always did when she was trying to change shape. But instead of bursting into the air as a pigeon, or scurrying up his arm as a squirrel, she remained solidly feline and solidly big. Steve frowned, tipping his head forward to peer at her.

Aodhan and Ma both laughed. Steve turned a sharp, worried look to his mother.

“What?” he asked. Turning back, he said, “Fi, what’s goin’ on?”

“Oh, a leanbh ,” Ma breathed. “What did I say?”

Fiona giggled. “I can’t! Stevie!”

It took Steve a bit too long to understand the situation, but when he did he turned an incredulous stare on Fiona. “You settled so big ,” he laughed.

“Bit inconvenient,” Aodhan muttered behind his shaggy russet mustache, but he was grinning his doggy grin, as overjoyed as Sarah was.

“The size of a daemon doesn’t depend on the size of the person,” Ma reminded him. Steve knew that. He knew that Mr. Tonks, hulking as he was, had a little rabbit daemon, and everyone in the world knew that Marlene Dietrich’s daemon was a honking big bear, something the newspapers always thought was real funny.

“Boys at school are gonna have a field day,” Steve told her anyway. Nobody but Bucky seemed to understand why Steve walked around with a mountain lion for a daemon most of the time. Now that she’d settled, he could just imagine how they’d tease.

“The boys at school are silly little idiots,” Aodhan grumbled.

That sent Fiona and Steve into a fit of giggles that carried them through breakfast.

***

He’d been right about the boys at school.

When words got around that Steve’s daemon had settled, Tommy Wies came over to him at lunch as asked him if he thought it was funny that his daemon was four times the size of him.

Miriam, lounging at Bucky’s feet as a german shepherd, snarled at him, and Tommy laughed it off but he didn’t say another word to Steve all day. Unfortunately, Bucky couldn’t be around forever, and after last period, when Steve was gathering his papers from arithmetic, Bobby and Tony Gottardo ambled over.

The three of them exchanged some words, and it all ended with Bucky finding Steve getting his lights knocked out of him in front of the school. Fiona was snapping and yowling at the Gottardo’s daemons, and Bucky had to wade in and break the fight up with a solid-looking kick to Tony’s keister.

“God, some of these eye-talians really are dumb,” Bucky huffed after the boys had beat feet down the sidewalk. “How many times I gotta lay them out flat before they leave well enough alone?”

Steve sent Bucky a dark look. “You didn’t lay anyone out, Buck. Tony and Bobby are just babies.”

Bucky scoffed. “Maybe not that time, but last time, I made Bobby bleed so bad I just about called a doctor so’s I didn’t have to go on the lam.”

Fiona snorted. “You did no such thing,” she told him imperiously.

Miriam perked up. “If you asked Bobby, he just about got murdered in that fight.”

The four of them ambled their way back home, About halfway to Bucky’s flat, where they were stashing their school stuff and cleaning up before heading over to the park-Steve couldn’t very well go home now, not with a bloody nose-Miriam turned to Steve and Fiona and eyed them.

“What’s it like?” she asked.

It was crystal what she was asking. Miriam, even though Bucky was a year older, still hadn’t settled.

Fiona shrugged her big furry shoulders. “Boring, but nice. Feels right, like a pair of shoes that I’ve had few ages, so they fit real good. But I think I’ll miss flying.”

“Shoulda settled as a big bird,” Bucky laughed. “A bald eagle, or something. Or a hawk, to go with that big nose.”

Steve shoved at Bucky playfully. “Well, then Miriam should settle as a pig, to go with your nose.”

Bucky, vainer than Steve by a mile, reeled back, patting at his nose like he was checking that it was still as perfect as ever. He scowled when that sent Steve laughing.

“Fi shoulda been an elephant, to match your ears!”

“Miriam could settle as a beaver so you could have matching buck teeth,” Steve shot back, still laughing.

Bucky huffed, but Steve knew he wasn’t that sore.

They spent the rest of the walk joking and fooling around, and when they barrelled into the Barnes flat, Bucky had Steve under his arm, mussing up his hair with his knuckles.

Mrs. Barnes started fussing as soon as she saw Steve’s face, but luckily she didn’t threaten to tell his Ma, trusting that Steve wouldn’t hide it from her. She did make him sit at the dining room table, though, and allow her to clean him up a little. She didn’t have his Ma’s practice at nursing, but she’d raised Bucky, and the frequency with which her son was being pulled into scraps meant she was no slouch. Amos chittered the entire time, scolding them all for fighting just like he always did. The boys and their daemons ignored him, as they always did.

“The only thing I have to give you for your birthday is some advice, Steven,” Mrs. Barnes said lightly. “Stay out of trouble!”

Steve offered her a beatific smile, the smile he offered to teachers and shopkeepers and Mrs. Barnes whenever he was trying to pretend he wasn’t an absolute scoundrel. It drove Bucky up the walls; he called it his saintly smirk. “I try, Mrs. Barnes. Trouble just always seems to find me!”

Mrs. Barnes and Amos hmmphed in unison, and Bucky snorted.

“Bucky, I expect you back home in time for supper. It might be Steven’s birthday, but you still have school tomorrow.”

“Yes, Ma,” Bucky and Steve chorused. She scowled and shooed them out of the house.

Steve shook his head. “She didn’t even notice Fiona’s settled,” he scoffed. “Guess Steve Rogers walking around with a puma for a daemon is just common sense to her.”

“Sure it is, pal,” Bucky drawled easily. “You may be short, but you’re just about the loudest guy I know. You’re bigger inside than out, is all. You ain’t no mouse.”

“What do you think you’ll settle as?” Fiona asked Miriam, who’d taken Fiona’s new size as an opportunity to be lazy, and shifted into a strange little lizard, riding on her back. She had the air of a haughty little queen that way, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the smug little lizard smile she was sporting.

Miriam was quiet for a moment as she and Bucky shared a thoughtful look.

“A dog, probably,” Bucky answered first. “Most folks have dog daemons.”

Fiona shook her head. “You’re not most.”

Steve blushed a little at that. Bucky wasn’t most folks. Bucky was brave and handsome and kind and strong. Bucky talked a big game about how Steve was bigger on the inside, but honestly, Steve thought Bucky’s beautiful outside matched his insides. It was no wonder that all the girls at school had started taking real long looks at Steve’s best friend. There was something about the air around Bucky when he got real excited about a new song. When he laughed it was like his whole face opened up and you could see the damn sun shining out his eyes.

Miriam would settle as something even grander than a mountain lion. She’d be a real noble bird, maybe, because of Bucky’s sharp eyes, or a peacock cause of how nice his face was. Or maybe a wolf, like James Connolly had had.

“A horse, maybe,” Miriam said.

It was funny, because Steve couldn’t see that at all. Miriam had never been a horse in her life. Hell, none of them had ever seen a horse in their lives. But Steve was picturing Bucky astride a huge destrier, dressed like a knight, and it made him laugh so hard he almost gave himself an asthma attack. “You are a real horse’s ass,” he gasped.

“Maybe I’ll be something real strange,” Bucky said, and he was still smiling, but it looked pained. “Something odd, that’ll scare off anyone tryin’ to give us a hard time.”

Miriam shivered, shifting rapidly. She was a spider first, fearsome and black, before she draped over Fiona’s back as a big brown snake. It was followed by a strange hairless cat, a blind and eerie bat. Finally, Miriam clambered to Fiona’s rump, a brown little thing with huge, luminous golden eyes. Her small triangle ears sat at the sides of her head like horns, and a long tail that curled over her chest.

Steve blinked. “What are you?” he asked. Miriam only stared up at him.

“So one in a book of daemons once. Like a monkey, sorta. Strange, right?” Bucky murmured.

“She’s beautiful, Buck,” Steve assured him. “Very beautiful.”

Bucky shrugged and picked up his pace like he was eager to see the Bianchi sisters. Like the discussion was unimportant.

Steve felt distinctly that he’d missed something in the exchange, and Bucky was disappointed in him.

#steve rogers #stucky #steve/bucky #daemons #daemon au #my fic

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ninnodesu · 3 years

Text

The New Matriarch, ch 2.

Tw: - Memories of rape - Brief mentioning of rape!

Thomas B. Hewitt.

It's…, Sunday? Yeah, it's Sunday. He thinks before rubbing tired eyes to wake them up before squinting to the window that's cracked open. The sun's up, but it doesn't feel as warm as it usually is, even early in the morning. Seems like today's going to be a milder day.

Good. I don't have to overheat and die. He chuckles at his own bad attempt at a joke as he rolls out of bed. His back cracks in a symphony of newly awoken and hard working bones as he stretches, a grunt escaping his lips. He trudges over to his dresser and pulls one of the drawers out, grabbing the first t-shirt he sees. It’s gray and worn out with small holes in the seams under his armpit, but he knows they can’t afford to get new ones.

It will have to do, I guess, he shrugs and pulls it over his head. Realizing he probably should have taken a shower first, but frowns. He knows it’s no point in showering before going to work in cleaning the barn. His mama asked him the week before if he could help clean the barn, she wanted to see if there was anything of value they could maybe sell at a yard sale to try and scrape up some more money.

Even though the scraps of meat rejects he snagged with him home after a hard day's work were enough, his mama was longing for bread and maybe some fruits and vegetables. And those were expensive. So he promised her he would take a look and throw away obvious trash the next day he was off work. Which happened to be every Sunday. Before heading out he pulls his boots on and reaches for the mask hanging on a hook next to his door to buckle it on the back of his head. All the years he's been wearing it has turned his skill in buckling it to perfection and he fastens it while walking through the upstairs hallway, tired floorboards greeting him under his weight.

He stops suddenly at one of the stairs that makes a particularly alarming creak and bucks a bit, “Hm…”, he bounces as carefully as he can to not break the board to test it. Making a mental note that he has to take a look at that specific step at another day. Hoping it’ll not break in the meantime.

With a yawn he enters the kitchen where his mama is preparing breakfast to the best of her abilities with what they've got, some sausages she managed to throw together with whatever scraps he could snag with him from work, and eggs. In his heart he thanks God that they still had chickens.

"Mornin', darlin'", she says as he walks up to her and nuzzles his forehead to her temple. A small hum from him to wish her the same. "You goin' to fix that barn I asked you for today?", stuffing half a sausage in his mouth as he grunts. His own way of saying “yes”. He doesn’t like speaking anymore. Not since he carved on his face, a desperate attempt at trying to remove dead, and sick skin. He only knew pain during the healing period. And he lost a lot of weight at first, both speaking and eating only caused him pain. So he stopped talking. Doing his best to avoid unnecessary pain to his already throbbing face.

Yeah, don't worry, mama. Even if Sundays are the only days he has off work, he's still happy to help. And today seems to be a mild day. Even if the sun's out it goes behind clouds from time to time.

Rather today than next week. He thinks to himself munching away at his breakfast while looking out the window, not focusing on anything particular, leaving his brain a chance to wake up properly. Somewhere in the distance, he hears a loud burp, and then a door closing harshly, probably to try and wake up the last family member who was still snoring on the couch and then the sound of angry stomping wakes him up from his daydream and he lets out a small discrete sigh.

Great., he huffed silently at the sight.

His brother, Charlie, enters the kitchen. He reeks of both tobacco and alcohol,

Already? Come on, man…, Thomas just makes a grimace behind the leather as he follows him with his eyes. Usually, it was when Charlie had alcohol still running in his blood that he barked orders at Thomas, so he was used to Charlie drinking not being the best of signs. He never really did like when he drank, even less so early in the morning. Sure, the slaughterhouse had a worse smell, but that smell he was used to.

Charlie plops himself down at the kitchen table and just violently stabs one of the sausages with a fork.

"Mornin', mama.” His twisted and crooked smile directed towards their mother, before his eyes drilled into Thomas and he returned the stare. A tired but fierce stare off between the brothers. “Remember what mama told you, boy. You're goin' to clean the barn.", Charlie nods at him with a really childish tone at the end and Thomas grunts a reply before looking away, annoyed.

"Leave Tommy alone, Charlie!”, their mama scolds him and lightly smacks his head with her towel. “He's already done promised me that he's gonna. Let the boy finish eatin' his breakfast in peace."

Thomas lowers his head and smirks behind his mask while looking down at his plate. Mama always has his back.

"Yes, mama.", Charlie's voice is low but he gives the big man in front of him an annoyed stare. "Mama's boy…" he mutters under his breath before starting to eat the impaled sausage.

By the time Thomas has finished his breakfast, he hears shuffling from the living room and his uncle stumbles into the kitchen on tired legs. His uncle has never really seemed to pay him much mind, so Thomas does the same as he puts his plate in the sink. All he does is give him a nod on his way over to thank his mother for the breakfast by giving her a small kiss on the cheek through his mask and rub her shoulder before heading out to the barn.

Thank you, mama.

Outside, it's cool - for once - and he can't help but to close his eyes and relax when he feels a breeze caress the part of his face not covered up. He raises a hand and touches his mask, wishing he could feel the breeze on his entire face. But he knows better. Charlie would just harass him if he caught him without it.

Forget it. He shakes that thought away and trudges over to the barn and gives out a loud groan when he sees how much he actually has to do today.

I'll be sore tomorrow at work…

Hours go by. Lunch is over before he even realizes he's eaten it. The clouds have gathered over his head and he's afraid it'll start raining before he's done. On his way in to gather more junk lying around he hears something, a voice.

What th-.... He stops, trying to listen and see if he hears it again. Silence.

Maybe I'm imagining things. He shrugs, but then hears it again. "Please, help me!”, He gazes out towards the wheat field, squinting eyes trying to see something. He still can’t see anyone, though. He’s sure he did hear someone. He turns to look towards the main house to see if it came from there, but nothing. Not his name, no sounds coming from the house that would indicate someone came to hurt his family.

“Hm…”, he takes one step, and then one more away from the barn, toward the general direction he thought the voice came from. His curiosity has peaked.

After a few minutes of silence has passed he’s suddenly startled and his head jerks toward one of the walls where he sees a woman.

What the he-... where did you co-, his inner monologue is interrupted by her hoarse voice. “Please… please help me.”, it’s hard to hear, but knowing how rough his own voice is after so many years of choosing to be silent he’s learned to distinguish words. Seeing her walk towards him makes him back up himself. She’s all beaten up. Hair is more of a mess than his own and she smells of sweat, blood and earth. She’s so much smaller than him in height, not that he’s particularly surprised, honestly. Clothed in something that looks like several potato sacks badly put together through the years to accommodate her growth. She’s dirty, and it looks like she’s badly hurt. He just watches her at first. “I beg of you. They’re chasing me. I need… I need help.”

You look like you’ve been through Hell... His eyes flicker towards the main house when he notices that she's not looking directly at him, but rather outside. Suddenly, he reacts to footsteps. Close ones and he turns his attention to them, tilting his head and listening to them. Following them.

Deep into concentration he feels small, weak fingers gripping the hem of his rolled up sleeve, tugging at it to get his attention. “Please…”.

He lets out a sigh. You must be truly desperate to reach out for me, lady. His head is directed towards a sound, and around the corner comes a man, and he looks straight at him as he takes a step in front of the strange woman, shielding her, Thomas stares at the man.

“Ah, good. I see you found our sister, there. I’ve been looking for her.”, Something tells Thomas it’s just lies. “I can take care of her now. She’s uh… She’s unwell ”, the last word came out as a whisper, something that shouldn’t be talked about.

Thomas just stands there, crossing his bulky arms over his huge chest, trying his best to look intimidating enough to avoid any violence.

You really think I’m falling for that, huh?, he smirks behind his mask and tilts his head to the side.

A stare off ensues. One huge man looking down at the smaller one. The bull versus the fox. Thomas lets out a big huff that sounds like a mixture between a laugh and a sound an annoyed bull makes.

I’ll humour you, but only because it’s fun to see you try.

“Look, we’re just here to take her back to her room so we can take care of her, okay? That’s all there is.” The stranger takes a step forward, and Thomas manages to hear whispers close by.

There’s more of you, huh?

Thomas looks down at the girl who has curled into a tiny ball behind his legs when he feels his pant leg start to shake slightly where she started gripping it out of fear.

“No.”, it’s dark, and hoarse, but it only helps to convey his statement. “No?”, the man mimics, suddenly realizing that his lie had failed. “Heheh. I see. That bitch told you, didn’t she? Well, this one is ours. We bought her. She is our property.”, Thomas frowns when he sees a sneer appear on the stranger. Then he chuckles darkly.

What the hell are you talking about?

“Tell you what, big man? If you hand her over to us, we can arrange a fee for you.” His leg suddenly gets warm as she hugs closer to him, clings to him, even. Like he’s some kind of life preserve for her. And that’s when his brain switches.

You can relax, I’m not letting them take you, he puts a hand on her head to try and convey his inner monologue and conversation with her. “Leave.”, he hasn’t spoken this much in months. But he wants her to know that she can stay, at least until his mama has had her say in it. “I’m not leaving until I get my property back!”, the stranger practically roars as he lifts the gun he’s been holding behind his thigh.

Thomas’ eyes darken at the sight, he truly doesn’t want to resolve to violence, at least not if his family isn’t involved, there’s no point. And as far as he’s concerned, this woman is not family. “You’re one big beast, you know that?”, a small chuckle emitted from the gun wielding maniac standing in front of the pair.

Then, like a gift from heaven - for once - he sees Charlie as he butts the stranger with the end of his own shotgun. The man falls to the barn floor. It’s not until he hears the thud that Thomas finally relaxes his stance a tiny bit.

Useful, for once.

“Who the fuck is that, Tommy?”, Charlie nods towards the scared girl still behind Thomas’ leg, who's desperately trying to curl into a smaller ball. Thomas’ looks down at her at first and then just… shrugs. He has no idea who she is. All he knows is that she’s the first person ever in his entire life who has been this adamant with getting his help. He puts his hand back on her head again and slowly strokes her messy hair.

It’s okay, now.

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

You.

Your sight darkens slightly and you fall into shadows as something big steps in front of you, and you look up to see him look toward something. You follow his gaze and see him, the one who had shot you and you take a step back behind the giant in an attempt to completely disappear out of sight. Why is he alone? Where’s the rest?!, your brain starts to go into that panicked state and you fall to the floor, your legs can’t keep you up anymore as fear sets in. You can’t see anyone else. There were at least three… Three… and… the dog… “Ah, good. I see you found our sister, there. I’ve been looking for her.” Liar.

“I can take care of her now. She’s uh… She’s unwell”, you jerk your head and eyes towards him when you hear his disgusting voice. You glance up at the huge man when you see his hands raise as he crosses them over his chest. You take a big gulp of air. He’s huge…

Silence.

You jump a bit at the moment the giant huffs. “Look, we’re just here to take her back to her room so we can take care of her, okay? That’s all there is.”, you flinch when you hear a shuffle towards you both.

No, no no no no. Not the box, please. Anything but that fucking box! You curl up, instinct kicking in as you start to grab at the strange man’s pant leg while shaking. You’re so scared. You look up at him when you feel a pair of eyes gaze at you. And that’s when you finally manage to see his face. Or, whatever there was of it. It’s covered in a mask.

Strange… But his eyes seem kind. Light blue, you can’t see any kind of hate in them. You can’t really see any clear emotion at all, actually.

“No. ”, a shiver runs down your spine when you hear his voice. It’s dark, almost as hoarse as your own. But you feel safer than you’ve felt since you started running. “No?”, the man with the gun mimics, his voice is low, and clings to your ears and nerves as black tar.

You zone out, memories starting to trickle into your brain. Memories that makes you nauseous. Memories of his voice sticking in your ears as he forced himself into you, his tongue tracing venomous trails across every part it could reach. This disgusting voice, this sticky and tar like voice of his. You hate it. You hate it so much. In the middle of remembering all the sticky things his voice told you, you wrap your arms around the big leg in front of you, and bury your face in it, shielding yourself. Right now, the only safe place you can remember in your life is this man.

That’s when you feel a hand on your head. It’s not clamping down to hurt you, or to force your face up to make you recieve some disgusting load. It’s just… there. It’s there like a warmth, a helmet. A way to comfort you, you make you realize he wants to help you.

“Leave. ”, that same dark voice speaks. His whole body vibrates. “I’m not leaving until I get my property back!”

Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!, you press your eyes shut. Just hoping it will end. You keep your eyes shut. Not wanting to see his face anymore, not wanting to be here anymore. You just want everything and anything to end. You want to wake up from this nightmare. And that’s when you hear a thud and another voice speak out.

“Who the fuck is that, Tommy?”

Tommy? Wh… Who’s “Tommy”?, your brain is too tired to fully function and put two and two together.

This new voice sounds older, it’s definitely another man. But you can’t place him. It’s new. It isn’t until you feel the same hand on your head again, but this time in a stroking motion, that you get the courage to look up. But you can’t relax yet. You know there’s more people here. Around the house. You’re just not sure where they are. So you decide to try and talk again.

“M...m-...”, you take a shaky breath, and try to gather saliva again, easier this time. “Ther- there’s more…”

“More what?”, The old man spits at you as he crouches down to your eye level and looks at you, he seems angry at you, so you flinch further behind the behemoth, who all he can do is stand there since your grip is tight on his leg. His hand still on your head, intently watching as you attempt to have a conversation with the old man.

“O-... of them…”, you whisper as you nod towards the one lying down on the floor, still breathing.

“Are you trying to tell me that there’s more of those bastards on my property, girl?”, the old man spits.

He’s definitely angry, shit.

All you can manage to do is nod. The old man stands tall and puts his hands on his hips as he clicks his tongue. You stay put, almost too scared to move a muscle, your nerves still on high alert, ready to sprint if you hear any kind of loud noise. But nothing happens, it’s still. “Come. We’ll talk to mama.”, the old voice mumbles out, “After that, you’re helping me bring our sleeping friend to the sheriff’s station.” Before you’re able to fully comprehend what’s happening your protector bends down best to his abilities and slowly pats your arms holding him tight while keeping eye contact with you.

“Wh… what…?”, you’re confused. So, so confused as you look at him. He lightly takes hold of your arms and slowly pry them open to release his leg. “Oh…”, is all you can say as you understand what he wants and you release his leg by your own will, but still not fully grasping what he wants to do, at least not until you feel his strong arms under you.

One hooking under your legs and one resting at your back.

And you’re off the ground. It’s not until he takes one step forward that your brain sends a harsh reminder about the pain in your shoulder and you shriek out.

“FUCK!”, it’s loud enough - or you’re way too close to his ear - that he jumps, his grip almost slipping. The pain is enormous all of a sudden, and that’s when it happens. You pass out. Your brain, and body, finally giving up. You can’t run anymore, and you mentally accept your fate, not caring what it might be and you’re put into a deep slumber.

#The New Matriarch #TNM #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfictiom #slasher #tcm fanfiction #tcm: the beginning #tcm #charlie hewitt

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livingmybestfictionallife · 4 years

Text

Live Wire --The Dirt--12

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school, has had a rough life, and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night…the same night Motley Crue is born.

A/N: I’m going to try and update this more so I can work on some requests I have. As always, feedback is appreciated and I’m always down to talk the Crue with anyone :)

Previous Chapters: Masterlist

Adrenaline coursed through Nikki’s veins as he and Mick strummed the final chords of their set and gazed out into the audience. As the crowd roared their applause for the four misfits on stage, Wren turned to the man beside her with a slightly arrogant smirk resting on her face. She didn’t know how soon she should have approached him, but after using up all of her available resources of finding dive bars for the band to play in, and Nikki continually begging his boss to let Mötley Crüe play at the Whisky again and again, Wren figured now was as good of a time as ever.

“They’re good,” he stated. The salt and pepper of the man’s hair was different from how Wren the image she had of her grandfather’s brother from years ago, but his eyes were just as piercing and weary as she could recall. “Your mother would hate that you’re here. You know that, right?” Wren folded her arms over her chest and held her breath at the mere mention of her parents.

“They hate a lot of the things I like, and much of what I’ve done, but I’m not here to talk about my mother, Uncle Elmer. Grandpa taught me everything I know about the industry, and the one thing he said more than anything else was—”

“Talent is important, but knowing someone important will allow the world to experience that talent,” the tall, rather puffy faced man said as he recalled the nugget of wisdom his brother frequently spouted to anyone who was listening, but most frequently to young Wren in particular.

“You don’t have to vouch for them if you don’t think they have what it takes to make it. I can keep finding dive bars, sleazy clubs, anything it takes to get them the face time with audiences they need before booking the bigger venues, but you’re someone important, and me knowing you could allow the world to see all that these guys have to offer.” Wren didn’t smile or smirk; her face was firm and confident in her assessment of Mötley Crüe, and she only hoped her great-uncle would see what she saw in them. Sure, they were still new to the scene, and even though it felt as if they had only been together for a matter of months, they were encroaching on the year anniversary of forming the band.

Once again, the man’s eyes surveyed the crowd as teenagers and young adults jumped up and down, threw their fists into the air and chanted the band’s name in hopes they’d perform one last song before stepping off stage. Tommy’s eyes searched for Wren, but he gave up when he realized fighting against the blinding spotlights focused on him was bringing on a headache.

“They’re certainly something you don’t see every day,” Elmer commented as he trailed over each of the men standing on stage. “And keep selling out each time they play here at the Whisky.” With a sigh, Elmer Valentine shoved his hands into his pockets and pulled out a pen. “Call this number and I’ll make sure your band gets a back-to-back, two-night performance at The Roxy,” he said as he scribbled down a telephone number under the words ‘Roxy Theatre’. “I’ll also put a few calls in to some colleagues and friends about having them perform at other venues.”“Other venues?” Wren asked as she took the napkin her great-uncle had written on and slid it into her back pocket.

“The Troubadour, The Starwood, maybe even Gazzarri’s and the Santa Monica Civic Center,” he said nonchalantly with a smirk on his face as he watched Wren’s face beam excitement.

“You’re the best, Uncle Elmer,” Wren said with a wide smile as she peered up at the first person in her family, aside from her grandfather, to believe in her. “Thank you so much!”

“Don’t mention it, kiddo,” he said before reaching out to envelope Wren in a quick hug. “Just keep us being relatives under wraps. Connections are one thing, but nepotism is another.” With a quick nod of understanding between the pair, Wren shook her great-uncle’s hand one more time before she began to push her way past the crowd and towards the green room as she heard Vince call into the microphone, “Once again, we are Mötley Crüe. Don’t forget you can buy t-shirts and shit at the bar! Good night Los Angeles!”

Backstage, a few employees of The Whisky began to pack up Tommy’s drums and carry the instruments and amplifiers to the beat-up van the band had been using to transport their belongings between the house and shows. The guys were hurrying to scrub the makeup they had on their faces off with wet washcloths, and buzzed from the electricity in their bones from the performance they just gave.

“This is amazing!” Tommy bellowed as he tossed the rag he used to clean his face towards the travel bag of makeup Wren had brought along. “They love us!”

“Three performances here isn’t enough to get us on the map,” Nikki reminded him solemnly. “We just have to hope we made some money off t-shirt and cassette sales to book a pat-to-play gig or something.”

“Do you really have that little faith in your manager?” Wren questioned as she entered the green room to see Vince beginning to strip himself out of his stage costume in order to change into his normal clothes. Confidently, Wren walked to where Mick and Nikki sat and held a crisp check over her beaming smile. “You guys made three-hundred dollars in sales,” she said as she passed the check to Mick, who then showed it to the rest of the band.

“No way!” Tommy gasped as he ran towards Mick to stare at the proof of their profit.

“We’re going to celebrate! Tonight!” Vince stated. “I already told some fans to come to the house for an after party, so you can’t say no!” Excitement spread through every fiber of Tommy’s being and Nikki became almost as excited as Tommy.

“Well, if you’re going to celebrate something, it’s not going to be making a few hundred bucks,” Wren said as she leaned her back against one of the vanities positioned against the wall. As Mick noticed an all-knowing smirk on her face, he spoke first.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Do you have something you’re not telling us, Ledden?” Her smirk seemed to transfer to his lips and she bit her lip before spilling her small secret.

“Certain connections and scouting have led to Mötley Crüe getting a two-night performance at the Roxy.” Before Wren could finish her sentence, Tommy had her hanging in the air like a rag-doll between his arms as he swung her around in circles.

“How in the hell were you able to pull that off?” Vince questioned with a large smile on his face.

“Grandpa’s old radio station friends?” Tommy guessed as he placed Wren back on the ground and began to twirl his drumsticks as a way to channel the energy surging through him.

“Something like that,” Wren commented. “And that’s not all. There’s talk of securing places like the Troubadour and some pretty big venues too.”

“Damn,” Nikki sighed as he came over to thank Wren for not only believing in the band, but getting shit done to promote them. “What would we do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” she smirked with a light chuckle as Nikki draped an arm across her shoulders and squeezed before he quickly let go. It was short, sweet, and friendly, but that didn’t keep Mick, Tommy, or even Vince from scrutinizing every millisecond of the interaction.

*** *** *** ***

The clock on the wall read half past two in the morning, but no one seemed to notice the time. The small, cramped apartment felt even smaller and more cramped with each passing moment as more people seemed to filter into and out of the Mötley home through whatever crevasse they could find. Like roaches, people who had attended the band’s performance crawled into and through their home, except in some cases, Wren definitely preferred the roaches. She and Mick lingered on the outside of the chaos that seemed to be unfolding in ever square inch of her home, and each did their best to distract themselves with burning liquids.

“Not one for parties?” Mick questioned as the pair leaned against the window sill and looked out across the sea of sweaty people.

“Not one for people,” she responded as she pulled a plastic cup to her lips and tasted the sweet, burning concoction of Dr. Pepper and Amaretto.

“Don’t like them?” Mick asked without taking his eyes off the scene before the pair.

“Don’t trust them. Everyone has a secret agenda or bullshit selfish endeavors,” she huffed her blanket statement into existence. The man beside her nodded in solidarity and the pair tried once again to relax and blend into the wall, but having Tommy rush to Wren’s side only began to draw attention to the two loaners.

“Wren, look!” Tommy gasped as he let out a puff of smoke in the shape of a ring. The distinctively sweet and earthy flavor tickled her nose as she caught a whiff of the smoke coming from Tommy’s mouth. “It’s just like band camp!” he gasped before handing the remainder of a joint off to her and disappearing into the crowd. Without hesitation, Wren placed her lips to the rolled-up paper she held delicately between her index and middle fingers and inhaled. Upon seeing Mick’s down-turned eyes, Wren let go of the breath she was holding and coughed once before she attempted to defend herself.

“It’s an occasional vice,” she tried to explain before he cut her off.

“I’m not your pops; you don’t owe me anything. You’re a smart woman.” With a nod and a smile in his direction, Wren took another, much shorter puff before letting her arm hang down.

“I’m really glad you’re here. This is probably going to be commonplace and it’s nice to not be the only person lingering in the background,” Wren admitted as she and Mick peeled themselves off the wall to make their way towards Tommy who was frantically waving his arms in their direction. In their walk over, Wren took a few more hits from the joint before it was gone and then disposed of it in an ashtray.

“Don’t mention it,” Mick huffed as he sat down across from Tommy and Wren placed herself between the two. Nikki sat across from her, his head ducked and his forehead placed against one of Tommy’s cymbals. The fuzzy feeling in her head and the chill that was taking over her from her core initially distracted her from the scene that was unfolding before her. There was a heavy inhaling sound before Nikki pulled his head up, widened his eyes, and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his leather jacket. Wren closed her eyes and blinked rapidly to clear any conclusion jumping from her mind, but when Tommy mimicked Nikki’s actions and her eyes caught sight of the white powder, her pounding heart turned to lead and the chills caused her to begin to shake.

“What the hell?” she asked as her now bloodshot eyes darted from Tommy to the drugs before her.

“Did you want some?” he asked only to have Wren slap him in the back of the head.

“No, I didn’t ‘want some,’” she sneered as she despairingly mocked him. “You two are going to fuck things up for Mötley Crüe before you ever make it out of LA!” Wren’s accusing tone caused Tommy to mentally shut down. Only once before had he she ever been truly angry with him, and it was something he vowed to avoid at all costs; however, Nikki scoffed as he reached for the cymbal to do another line. In a wave of anger, Wren grabbed the instrument and turned sharply on her heel towards the bathroom.

“Wren!” Nikki called as he rushed after her. “Wren what are you doing?” Without thinking to knock, Wren threw open the door and turned on the sink before placing the cymbal under it and rinsing the remainder of cocaine down the drain. “What the fuck, Wren?” Nikki grumbled as he placed his hands on her waist and spun her around to face him. Now completely freezing from the weed-chills, Wren’s fingers were unable to sustain their grip on the cymbal and the loud crash it made as it fell to the ground sent a painfully long ringing through both her and Nikki’s ears.

“What the hell is going on out there?” a voice behind the shower curtain called out. Before Wren could turn her head, the curtain flew open to reveal Vince and Lovey, each topless, sitting in the bathtub with a syringe plunged into their arms.

“It’s just your bassist trying to fuck the band’s original groupie,” Lovey commented in an aloof and airy tone with a laugh in her voice, however, unlike her usual insults, which were met with fierce, deadly glares, she was unable to hold eye contact with Wren for longer than a few seconds.

“Find a different room, Nikki. We’re using this one,” Vince muttered in the same incoherent tone as his girlfriend.

“Are you fucking shooting up?” Nikki grumbled as he threw the rest of the shower curtain open and glared down at Vince. “You’re chewing my ass out when blondie is fucking injecting,” Nikki groaned as he turned back to face Wren.

“You’re both fucking pathetic for using coke in the first place!” Wren shouted in response as she tried to contain herself from shaking too violently.

“Says the woman who’s high—”

“Half a joint is different from fucking cocaine!” Wren quickly retaliated.

“What’s the big deal? All the greats do it,” Vince returned with a goofy grin over his face.

“The big deal is that you guys are still, essentially, nobodies! You have a f-few good shows and a do-it-yourself, demo tape and y-you think you’re hot shit! You d-dumbasses are going to throw everything if you don’t grow up!” Frustrated and angry at a solid seventy-five percent of Mötley Crüe, Wren left the mess she had made in the bathroom—cymbal on the floor, water running, Nikki fuming, and Vince floating through the air—and to return to the only sound mind in the band besides her. “You’re both useless,” she said on her way out as she angrily slammed the door behind her.

“Someone isn’t getting laid tonight,” Lovey sneered at Nikki who glared at the woman before throwing the door open and then closed again to follow Wren in an attempt to make things right. As he tried to hurry after her in his inebriated state, he could feel himself growing angrier and angrier as a drunk, male party-goer continued to place himself in front of Wren, therefore blocking her from going anywhere.

“Back off,” Nikki could hear her defiant voice command before he watched as Tommy stood and staggered his way towards his best friend.

“Dude, leave her alone,” Tommy slurred.

“You haven’t spent more than a minute with her tonight, so I know she’s not your girl. If anything, the old grump has more to say than you,” the man commented as he jutted his head towards Mick.

“She’s not the person you want to fuck with, dude,” Mick commented as he followed Tommy towards the commotion.

“Come on, you’ve been warned three times now,” Nikki commented as he pushed himself between the man and Wren, “show some respect or get the fuck out!” As Nikki lengthened his spine to use his height over this man to his favor, the shorter, much stockier man’s chest had puffed out and his voice deepened as he threatened Nikki.

“Make me motherfucker,” he panted in an angry and determined tone as he dug his fingers into Nikki’s collarbones and shoved him backwards until he toppled over into Tommy. In a rage at the man for cornering her, at Nikki and Tommy for snorting coke, and at Vince for shooting up, Wren sent her leg flying up into the man’s groin. As he doubled over in pain, she shoved her fist across his face in a swift motion, sending the man to the ground in a moaning pile of drunk trash.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced angrily as she stepped over the crumpled and agonizing body on the floor and threw the door open to her room. “Get the fuck out!” she shouted at the two or three couples thinking they were about to get it on in her room before they went scurrying away like rats through a storm drain. Nikki swore he could hear the lock click on her door over the noise and chaos unfolding in the rest of their apartment, but he was too angry and embarrassed to do anything other than watch as Tommy and another party-goer threw the man outside of the house.

A moment ago, he wanted to apologize, to make a deal with her, to promise he wouldn’t do anything to compromise what he knows she’s been busting her ass for him to achieve, but now? Now he felt small, weak, even emasculated by the fact that a girl just laid out the guy he was trying to protect her from. Who fucking does that? He thought as he shrunk away from the party and out, into the night and onto the front porch. A man defends a woman. It’s that simple. She made you look weak, even dependent. As the thoughts circulated in his mind, Nikki glanced at the two lawn chairs that over looked the street below. The softness in his heart he felt towards her that morning had begun to fade, and the more he thought about how embarrassed he felt in that moment that seemed to hang, frozen in time, the higher the walls he was constructing became. Nikki pursed his lips and clenched his jaw as he sharply inhaled the night air. With anger in his heart and a ferocious grimace on his face, he pushed past the partiers until he too had sunken into the dark, stillness of his room.

Tags: @prettyyoungandbored, @hot-young-runningfree, @crue-sixx, @oskea93, @dancergirl5527, @thatonemoviefan, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog, @motleymachinegun, @motleycrueee, @motley-queen, @american-satanxx

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raywritesthings · 5 years

Text

What Have They Lost 2/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Barry Allen, Iris West, Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Thea Queen, Connor Hawke, Ted Grant, Quentin Lance Pairings: Barry Allen/Iris West, Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: "I can definitely tell you that there’s a way we’re going to bring [Laurel] back and she’s going to be alive and well. And Flashpoint might have a little bit to do with that.“ -Wendy Mericle AKA: The AU where that wasn’t a blatant lie, and Flashpoint has bigger repercussions for Barry’s friends and allies than he first realized. *Also can be read on my AO3*

Oliver’s life was rarely dull ever since he boarded the Queen’s Gambit back in ‘07 with both of his parents and lost them to the sea, but the last few years particularly had had their ups and downs.

One of those big ups was Connor. Even if the kid could be a handful sometimes. But that was better than when he’d first got here.

Oliver stepped forward and ripped the arrowheads from the wall that were keeping Barry held back and handed the line off to Connor. “Not bad placement.”

Connor beamed up at him. “Thanks, dad.”

He reached out and ruffled his son’s hair, looking back to Barry with a grin of his own. “He’s getting almost as good as me.”

“Yeah, that’s- that’s good,” Barry said, staring at Connor with the weirdest look on his face.

Connor seemed to notice it, too, for he shrunk back a little. “I think I’ll go meditate for a bit. Let you two talk about whatever.”

Oliver nodded, seeing his son off before rounding back on Barry. “Want to explain anything?”

“It’s, um, complicated. Look, Oliver, can you just answer a couple questions without asking me why I don’t know the answers already?”

He raised an eyebrow, but said, “Alright, shoot.”

“Connor is your son.”

“Not a question, Barry.”

“I know, but he’s...he’s gotta be like fifteen, doesn’t he?”

Oliver looked down, grimacing. “He’s fourteen.” He didn’t need to look up to know there was a follow up question on Barry’s lips. “We all know I screwed around, okay? Can we leave it at that?”

He’d been sixteen and stupid, sneaking into a college party with his best friend, Tommy Merlyn. Tommy had played wingman for him with a college girl named Sandra, and they’d fallen into bed with more alcohol in them than was wise. He’d forgotten the condom, or ripped it in his clumsiness, or something. He couldn’t remember anymore. He’d put the night out of his mind for almost twelve years.

Sandra hadn’t, of course. She’d gotten pregnant with an underage boy’s baby. And so she’d disappeared, she’d had to. Back to her father’s ranch in Idaho. And only when Connor was old enough to know the truth about his father had he come looking for him, turning Oliver’s whole world upside-down.

Maybe Barry hadn’t gotten all the dirty details when he’d first met Connor, but he’d got the gist. So what was the deal?

“And you don’t have any other sons?” Barry asked next.

“Not that I know of. Barry, are you going to tell me what the point of this is? What does this have to do with — who’d you ask me about?”

“Laur- Dinah,” Barry corrected himself. “She goes by Dinah, and maybe you’ve heard some of her music, but uh—”

“Oh,” said Oliver. “You mean the singer? With the- what’s that band called — Bats or Birds or something?”

“Yeah,” said Barry, though he didn’t look all that happy they’d gotten on the same page. “Do you know her?”

“I know of her. Wouldn’t mind getting to know her,” he mused aloud. She was something else from the occasional photo or poster he’d seen. Those legs in those fishnets...

Barry coughed.

Oliver blinked and came back to himself. “Well, what about her, Barry?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” the speedster hedged. “Felicity didn’t happen to talk to you after I saw her a couple weeks ago, did she?”

Oliver frowned. “Barry, you know she doesn’t talk to me unless she has to anymore, right?”

Barry’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what? You’re not saying the breakup went worse?”

He gave a small snort. “Yeah, breakup. It was one date, Barry.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Because Connor came to me right after, and I was busy trying to verify if what he was telling me was the truth, remember? I asked you to run a paternity test?”

Barry’s head hung back. “And Felicity found out after and got upset and broke up with you?”

“Yes, except I did the breaking up. I’d just found out I had a kid, I wasn’t at all in a good place to be starting a relationship.” Truthfully, he was kind of glad things had worked out that way. He liked Felicity well enough, but at times they just couldn’t relate. He’d thought about dating her mostly because she was one of the few who knew his secret; it would’ve been practical. But love wasn’t practical. He’d been kidding himself.

Oliver shook his head. “Is there a reason you’ve developed selective amnesia?”

“There is. It’s just, I’m not sure how much I should say.”

“Well, if it’s about Connor, then I need to know. I’m his father, Barry.”

He stared the younger man down, who shifted uneasily.

“What do you know about time travel?”

“That you can do it? Or that speedsters can, I guess.”

“Okay.” Barry took a deep breath. “The thing is, I sort of time traveled this last spring and as a result some things changed.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Well, like, um, some things about your life and the people you know. It’s not all bad. I mean, Laurel’s still — Dinah, I mean. Dinah’s still...and Digg’s okay! I didn’t see anything about Thea, either.”

Oliver blinked. “Who’s Thea?”

Barry snapped out of his babbling, a lingering smile on his face. “Oliver, come on. Thea. Thea Queen? Your sister?”

“Barry, that’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be — Oh God. Does she not...exist? I — no, that can’t be right. I- I gotta go.”

And with one last horrified look, Barry was gone in a rush of wind. Oliver sat down hard, putting his head in his hands. What had just happened?

Barry had messed with time, and now something about Oliver’s life had him spooked. But it was his life. It didn’t feel strange or wrong to him. Was he just thinking that because that was how things had always been.

And what did a literal rockstar have to do with it? There was no way he could be connected to someone like her. His whole team never stopped reminding him of what a dork he was.

Oliver shook his head and left the base for the upstairs loft he shared with Connor. Owning the whole building did come with some perks.

Connor looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on the couch, taking deep, even breaths. Oliver raised a hand. “Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“It’s okay. I just got here five minutes before you did.”

Oliver paused, then shook his head. He should have figured his son would’ve listened in. “Alright. What do you think? Uncle Barry’s gone round the bend?”

Connor made a face. “Doesn’t seem like he wants to be my uncle.”

Oliver’s smile dropped. “Connor, no. It’s not you, it’s speedsters. You know how big picture they get, zipping up and down through time. Makes me glad not to be one.” He settled down on the couch beside Connor. “Give Barry some time to readjust, and I’m sure it’ll be fine. And if not, I’ll be talking to Iris.”

If anyone had a problem with his son, he’d go to whoever he had to to set it right. Oliver couldn’t even fathom a world without his kid now, imperfect as their relationship had started out. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Connor smirked briefly, though it fell as he asked, “Dad, do you really have a sister?”

“I…”

He wanted to say no. Before today, he would have said so without thinking. But Barry’s confusion about the past had him thinking of his own past, of those dark, bygone years.

His mother wasting away in the liferaft, muttering feverishly into his shoulder as she clung to him. “Oh, my babies. My babies…”

“I’m right here, mom.”

“My beautiful boy. Keep her safe. Robert, Robert mustn’t know…”

“Know what, mom? Mom?”

She hadn’t responded, slipping into unconsciousness from which she never awoke.

He wrapped an arm around Connor’s shoulders to ward off the dark mood that usually came along with such recollections. “Honestly, I don’t know. There was a lot that my parents chose not to tell me. Not until the end.”

And if he did have a sister? All these years, he had failed his mother’s last request, to keep her safe. If she was even real.

He squeezed Connor tight for a moment before standing. “I’m going to be busy looking through the old family papers for a couple days, okay?”

“You want any help?”

“Nah, it’ll be boring. You keep up with your target practice.” He reached out and ruffled his son’s hair. “Since you’re determined to join me out on the field.”

“Okay, okay.” Connor brought up his hands to fend off the attack, so Oliver left for the kitchen to get started on making a late dinner.

He put on a pot of coffee for good measure. He was going to be pulling a lot of late nights.

—-

Mia wiped off the bartop with a rag as a young couple left their seats to head out into the evening air. There were a couple bucks left under an empty glass, and she quickly stuffed them into her bra. Better to keep track of tips than leave them lying around.

There was chatter from the booths and music blaring overhead. Larry was already taking up his end of the bar. Just another evening.

She felt a sort of charge to the air for a moment, and the ends of her hair whipped around her face. Quickly as it had happened, it stopped. Mia blinked and shook her head.

The front door opened and a man staggered through, making straight for her at the bar. He’d be cute if he didn’t look half-crazed.

“Okay. You’re still here. That’s- that’s good. Ollie’s not gonna kill me now.”

Mia arched a single eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ve just been looking the last two days. Between work and everything else, had to do it in stages,” he explained. “Actually, can I get a water?”

“Sure.”

Mia got it for him with growing bemusement, especially when he gulped it down and asked for another.

“You gonna actually buy anything?”

“Uh, no. Actually, I don’t drink. But, uh, I could tip you?” He added when she gave him a look.

“Yes, you could.”

He got out his wallet. “So, just to be sure, we’ve never met before, right? You have no idea who I am?”

“No. Should I?” Oh God, it’d be just her luck that this guy was from her druggie days.

He shrugged. “Depends how you look at it. I’m Barry.”

“Mia.”

His face scrunched up. “Mia?”

“Yeah, what about it?” She dropped a hand to her hip and snatached up the dollar he’d just laid on the counter.

“Nothing. But I guess it explains earlier.”

She wanted to ask him about that. She wanted to ask him about a lot of things, actually.

“Hey, can I get a scotch or what?” Larry called out, and Mia groaned in the back of her throat.

“Yeah, Larry.”

She pulled down another glass and poured out the drink. She was tempted to water it down a bit, but even sloshed he would probably notice. Mia scooped up the dollar tip he slapped down as she set the drink in front of Larry, then walked back down to the other end of the bar where her new friend sat.

“Did you just call that guy Larry?”

Mia shrugged. “Yeah, what about it?”

“But he’s…” Barry shook his head. “What can you tell me about him?”

“Just that he’s a regular. Why, what’s it to you? Wanna buy him a drink?”

“Um, no. Maybe. He’s here a lot then? Doesn’t he have family or something?”

Mia snorted. “That’s cute that you think people just ‘have family’ lying around waiting to take care of them.”

“Well. Don’t you?”

Mia froze for a moment, then turned to the rack of washed glasses while ripping a clean rag out of the bag they kept under the counters.

“Mia, what do you know about Oliver Queen?”

She snorted. “What, the trust fund brat they fished out of the ocean a few years ago? Heard he’s got a kid, doesn’t he?”

“He does, yeah. What about his parents?”

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” This guy was making less sense than the drunks.

“They are, but what else about them?” He had something pulled up on his phone, a news article or wiki page by the looks of it. “What about Moira Dearden Queen?”

“Her name’s Dearden?”

“Her maiden name, yeah.”

“Okay,” she said, forcing a laugh. “What’s the joke?”

“What do you mean?”

She leaned forward and muttered, “I mean, that’s my name. Mia Dearden.” A thought hit her. “Tell me you’re not gonna use that to stalk me.”

“No. No, I’m not trying to stalk anybody! I’m just trying to make something right. Something I screwed up.” He dragged both hands through his hair. “And there isn’t really a way I can explain why without sounding crazy.”

The door opened, and Mia looked up. “Oh my God.”

“I know, I probably do sound crazy already,” Barry groaned. “Iris tried to warn me.”

“No, not you.” Mia swatted at his arm impatiently. “Is that- I mean, maybe she’s just a lookalike—”

“Who?” Barry started to turn around in his seat.

“Don’t just stare!” She hissed, as she stared at the blonde walking across the room to the end of the bar. She didn’t sit down, instead stopping by...Larry’s chair?

“I’m not crazy, right? That’s Dinah from Birds of Prey.”

“Sure is,” Barry said with a grimace.

Mia only barely held in a squeal.

—

Dinah stepped off the train and drew in a deep breath. Yep, same old Star.

“You sure you don’t wanna skip the old man this time? You can always mail him,” Ted suggested.

She shook her head. “This is the only way I can make sure he’s still kicking, Ted.” If barely, she added mentally.

He shouldered both of their duffles and passed her a set of keys. “Alright. Here’s for the apartment. And don’t let him get to you.”

“Nothing gets to me.”

She shrugged deeper into the shoulders of her beat up leather jacket before marching off. It was a fifteen minute walk from the train station to the old walkup, and in that time she was catcalled three times and only stomped on two sets of toes. On her best behavior, really.

She entered the front hall with its sour milk smell to find the old landlord Nichols pounding on her dear old dad’s door. “Lance, I’m warning you this time! You’re three weeks late!”

“Hey.”

He turned and sucked in his gut at the sight of her.

“Oh, uhhh.”

“Give me a minute to get it all squared away, would you?” She smiled with no teeth as she slipped by him and bent to snag the key out from under the threadbare mat. Dinah could feel the old lecher’s eyes on her.

She entered the empty apartment and thumbed through a stack of bills. He was falling behind again.

Dinah took out the envelope of money she’d brought with her, fishing out several twenties before leaving the rest on top of the bills. Then she exited the apartment and locked up.

“Here you go,” she told Nichols sweetly, tucking the bills into his breast pocket. Then with a light shove to get him out of her way, she left the building.

From there, she hit the bars, from closest to furthest. It was in the fifth one that she spotted him hunched over a scotch.

He’d gone totally bald last year, but it was still strange to see. He looked older, frailer somehow even without the scraggly mess that used to sit there. Dinah walked up and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey.”

Her father raised his head from the bar top, bloodshot eyes taking her in before he snorted in disgust. “What’ve I told you about walking around looking like that, huh? You hoping to get jumped?”

Dinah crossed her arms. “I can take care of myself. And I wear what I like.”

“Yeah? Does that Grant like it? Lousy old—”

“I don’t wanna fight about Ted. You know he thinks anyone who isn’t in sweats is just screwing themselves anyway.” She pulled the stool beside his over and sat with her back to the bar, a nonverbal signal she wasn’t interested in what they were selling.

“I ran into Nichols in your building. You’re all paid up.”

He scoffed into his drink. “I don’t need charity.”

“Right, just your rent,” she observed dryly. “Dad, why don’t you let me buy you a house?”

“I just said—”

“It wouldn’t be charity. It’d be, I don’t know.” She pushed her hair back behind one ear. “It could be our house. You know?”

He actually put the glass down. “Our house with you running all over the country? Yeah right. We haven’t had a house since you were eight years old. Bet you wish she’d taken you too, huh? Dinah?”

“Don’t do this here,” she muttered.

“Well, why’d you take back her name?” He accused, turning sideways to face her head on. “Why’re you doing any of this, selling yourself to all these people? You were gonna do something with your life once. Remember that? Always told me you wanted to save the world, just like your pops,” he said, voice breaking on the last word. He swayed a bit on the stool.

“Yeah, well my pops got kicked off the force for drinking and left his daughter in foster care,” she answered stiffly. “You sort of forget about the world when you’re just trying to save yourself.”

He blinked and shrunk back. “Laurel—”

She shrugged off his hand when he tried to reach out. “Go home, dad. You’re only embarrassing yourself.”

She stood and left him sitting there with his drink, heading straight for the door. She didn’t hold out any hopes that he would listen to her advice. He never listened to anybody’s.

Dinah glanced sharply over her shoulder. All she saw was a line of patrons sitting at the bar and a young bartender at the end drying the same glass over and over. She shook her head and left out the front door. Probably just paranoia.

But she could swear someone had been watching her.

—-

Barry shrunk down at the other end of the bar, hoping he hadn’t been spotted. At the sound of the door swinging shut, he relaxed.

“Wow,” Thea — or Mia, he guessed, breathed. “I can’t believe Dinah from Birds of Prey just walked right in here! How does some loser like Larry know her anyway?”

“He’s her father,” Barry said on a sigh.

“What?”

“Or he was. I — this is a mess.”

“How do you know? You friends with her or something?”

“Or something,” he replied.

“Lucky,” said Mia enviously. He wanted to tell her that she had it all wrong, that she was the one who was good friends with Laurel. That they were like sisters, inseparable.

But they weren’t. They were strangers. He was sitting in a sea of strangers.

Barry stood. “Uh, listen, thanks for the water. And- and take care of yourself, okay?”

“Sure.” She gave him another crooked smile like she was trying not to broadcast her thoughts that he was being weird. Then she took his glass and took it over to wash.

There were more piercings in her ear than he thought she’d had. The knuckles on her right hand were bruised. Did she still fight? Did she have a place to stay? Were they okay like this, and was there any way for him to judge it fairly? Some way to stack up the improvements against the drawbacks and put his conscience to rest.

Larry Lance fell off his stool. Barry ducked his head and left the bar. He didn’t think he could offer his help, knowing he’d done this to the man.

Out on the street, he looked both ways, trying to spot Laurel. Or Dinah. For some reason, it was harder for him to think of her that way than the others; maybe because he wanted more than the others for her to be exactly as she’d been before the prison riot, before Darhk, before Oliver and the others had lost her.

Barry didn’t have to search far.

“She said to let her go,” he heard her familiar voice from down the end of an alley. “Or do you need your hearing checked?”

When Barry stopped just outside the entrance of the alley, he found Laurel standing with her arms crossed in front of two men, one of whom was tugging on the arm of another terrified looking woman.

“Hey, this is my girl, alright? Stay out of it,” the man holding the woman at his side said. “Unless you wanna keep my buddy company.”

His friend cracked his knuckles.

“Very cute,” Laurel remarked. Her tone was light, but Barry recognized that stance. Whether she knew it or not, that was the Black Canary.

The second guy advanced menacingly. “I’ll show you cute.”

Just as Barry was preparing to intervene — rush the innocent woman to safety, then deal with these less than exemplary examples of the male species — Laurel made her move.

Only he’d been wrong. It was Siren’s move.

The sound waves crashed into the guy and sent him flying as she screamed, and he rolled to a stop just before the alley wall.

“Jesus!” The first man exclaimed. His supposed woman took off running in his distraction. He picked his friend up off the ground and the two men tore off in the opposite direction.

Laurel stood breathing heavily in the alley, fists clenched at her sides. Then she looked over her shoulder.

Their eyes met. Laurel’s breath stuttered in her chest. Barry gave a slow, disbelieving shake of the head. Then he drew one step back.

Barry ran. He ran all the way to Central, to Joe’s house, and up the stairs. He found himself stopped outside Iris’ door.

It was late, way too late. But he knocked anyway.

Iris answered in mere minutes. Her laptop was sitting open on her bed with her notebook beside it. Her hair sat in a knot on top of her head. The easy smile she wore slipped off her face at the sight of him.

“Bear? What’s wrong?” She reached to touch his arms. “Did you find Thea?”

Mia, Larry, Connor, Dinah — it was wrong, it was all wrong, and he couldn’t fathom the careless damage he’d done.

So he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder and cried.

#lauriver #westallen #barry allen #oliver queen #laurel lance #arrow #the flash #thea queen #quentin lance #ted grant #iris west #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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the-firebird69 · 3 years

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many hit you using your own computer s....you sit down and oh yeah tons saw what Thor had him write and his and they think your over and done and have stuff....so they use your computer, kock y8ou down or out..you look around outw indows like fools ad ck your equipment for bugs and phne and other gadgets and donnt hv proper sensing as your dumb by your act ad die actually die as your diets suck as cover..now we see you try to change cant have it...and it is asmallpercentage of ppl who want to live here. the screen eimts it your hardware yes your phone is powerful enough and emitters all around...andy ou say dumb cheesy things into the camera as pence did out loud and saidhis name and all respectedhim so we droppe dit onyou as he was so consternated by an enemy and it is something to fear how he handles bja out or die ok die and hits or we do...and you crack jokes and get hit...there are a ton of emitters here we usually dismakntle by this time and tons out there and you fart yell and get hit...suckers really. notone ofy ou is stolid or solid or smart...guess what that means..this place takes the cake we are nuts ok that is why....why what oaf...and you die lots...fine nd fie what on fight at all is a fight and we heard it started masacering billions then tirllions then all once a day the sludge proof...and you wont stop for ny price, matter of fact it is so over the top we awardhim a medal for bravery for holding the idea for so log see why...and he held it from oceanside to here and almsot 14 years of shouting back to hear what he has forthe past two days and you are weak lame fags ready to die...and heard corksand the other knifeplans we had prepped for no hire tons at the end as you say it. gas very suppressed, ship emitters huge Pyramids adn tons of monsters robots ad our own exosuites ad youhave little clue what happens most of you it is pitiful sad adn dangerous...but we must so yap on losers Thor and a slap fight is challanged by bja in vegas to dave himself in the ring all slaps no other moves..and dave accepts and in person under one condition bja you bring him...and i cant they wont let me the o dice now you heard our agreement didt you. yes i shall fight a proxi..and i will it is an honor i know th estyle ad use it and we shall see Stephen Seagal states and i shall bg emphasizes, and Stephen says he does have it down yes..and i shall fight him and make him bleed like he does me...toight at the MGM if opened and ...it is rd states and bet w your own money no he says i dont pay out and yes true and it is due to here so whatever he will do it...and i agree it sucks but huge bets roll in and bg uusually looks close to the part ad role...it is huge chuck will show lol ad no your ont chucky but ok your chuck norris....and we fight now and use it oon his Casinos this guy here...i accept it is a good match and hehehhe it will be. a hahah yes the two ad are a painn and westboroand it made my night i cover him 50 on the Stephen Siegal protoge and we do this ad it will be the actual chuck NOrris claming to have killed Stephen Siegal but lying...and he does it so often this is perfect and i reseve it the best steak and wine at the mgm and we get it him not me...we do this. rd say Zues Hera it is a new fight method not no holds barred not wrestling...no kicks no knees no elbows hahahah we are all laughig but ont bja or bg he ischucklig dave said in his dave tone we haaaaveee done this before....and it is funny. i put 50 on bg to win...and the bja gessour so we add 50 from us Thor and Freya i add 50 and another 50 and we like it we do it for you and he aprpeciates it can give some to a charity too a few bucks to rd pick...he picks heart association he agrees...dad ad others...we see. i agree to try to see it too. the riders. here. dangerous ppl too. we use our names but good grief that is worse ad you shut up son ad ok but we help ok yes you say... Bitol and Goddess Wife and it is like cops all over here tos of rude things talkad moro thigs this is hell no point to it on ourside rd rude too joe shhh joe try to fig outwhat you can do... Zues other than that yellig stuff we request more slap happy fighters adn others will challange..back to bac trump accepts another Bg fighter and trump and bja vs trump thier wives arnow inon it ad one challanges mom. caa says no no mom fights tommy f...and i accept tommy f says and is not rd. dn i obstain tommy is younger often and i shape and it is non lethal..we see usually he says but for the heart... huge fight coming up...ad it is utah vs vegas too...tommy f is vegas. huge and it is raking rd says we up our ante add 100 per fight ad bet on his mom to win i help he did last time it will help and work and she accepts he got aweful beatu p last time..and we see it worth it. adn a drowiging ad you did awesome and he gave me pie and vader who helped us..and food and is nicer. tons nicer though yelled and i heard this we are i trouble..see itnow..doughnuts ad doughnut holes so i look at he health einsureance ad say oh..ok. and tough guy too. hard man. we use it no. we help you dee ok. we do too Thrym says your a survivor we need to konw how lol it is not mentos though they tried to get you to sell them and you should if you mk money adn i say on ok sugar and so on but heck they buy it ok...we do help too ken says..aka uncle paul and us Mary your step daugher in law removed ie my sister and me dave our son...i helptoo though i dont want to no have to and for tommy f...i see that is true too..so your not helping in this case...nope. htought not you groin pull what a fag...we helphere preston says and for the fight and it will put pressure on us well needed these are at us all day all night..we see wehlpe and this is great anohter 100 and 100 by Hera for each bout and we can talk...i put it on dees though..he says.. mom cant bear me betting on her fight. and we see it is ont a massively lethal fight so we honor your decision... tonns of fights now and itis a slap fight. tommy f accepts the fight at New Vegas ioffered it. Thor we see now hte venue moves...and we see why we run some and see who and tattoo and the blackbuy who ranfor govna of cali and htey accept though joking and we go there ok enmass. but we need your twenty adn te for a candy bar and trainride lol rd says jokingly...good thing bgandcrewareon the bikes will geton the mcdill jets soo and parrachute in bikes under....okokwe see..fu we go there to your casino and free stuff for you bg and rd....andmomokok thne free my whole life to thirty something almost...we see it this is fun..ok. we do this Bitol says Thor said it isfun...wow Bitol slap fights really? your idea Zues oklol Bitol says..we run this now this fight there Thor and I whoah he says see my lawyer about that lol okok we setup the joke.....we accept fights there bja says there,,,where, there, ohhh your son says that well that is off limits you said, no it is wehre we fight and Thor offers his lodge tonight too at eleven headliner...Stephen Seagal vs Chuck Norris exhebition fight itro to CELEBRITY SLAPFIGHT a new fighting show...and we ask, and he accepts, it is the announcer son of trump...he will do it. he is mcmahon and kcked out of wwe ad wwf and more...so he says yes and we need the ittle guy no no imnotlittel ok mcmahon is large i accept and it is funny...ok. yuk but ok...we do it and vince bring your hat no thanks neal okokwe see safe fights...more or less. on drugs iether wehear...we dont police that closely for it but do for weapons no knives thar re illegal secret stuff or illegal guns. cops well in thatr area ad cia legal ones..so on. but no funny ones unles you have the powerten out all would ask ok. we see not like vegas no it is.we do this fun stuff. and we see tnosof cars and tons fobikes ad tons of food tons. andgirls allgirl all stuff...strioppers of yours inneedof attention need stuff there stockings and food for them that is special ti is hard like awlays...they use it too. no vampire shows no closes at two opens at 6 am allaway by then...Willie Wonka is there and his Chocolate and her Chocolate factory...there...a few different ones...and yes.. it is Lucy in the Sky with Daiomonds night ok Lucy and it is you scarlet ohara the scarlet letter woma..it is ist it andont me but ok, i am mops twin...the other one..no the same. we go there adn i slap fight him...i fight the queen of amarica the button girl Black Widow offers and in costume she accepts adn her name is there...and we see toolazy ok Crimson Widow and it is on and Wonder Woman wants apiece of poor girl Crimson Widow and now no at the Celebrity Slapfight in New Vegas...tons go therenow...and we see something we dont know who runs it joey says ohh joey no no joey no and rd ribs him...shut up rd shut it...joey replies..non way man this is fun..wont ve fun with nonr ibs to rib you back joey says visciously, silently dreamng this must be where sharon stone lives in new vegas,,ok ok i arrnge it if you stop rd says ok good...and sharon stone says sorry cant and the new catwoman challanges her in costume too..and she accepts ad it is on...open fisted isont slap but ok hahaha lol he would do greatcarpenters hands...lol. powpow down tommy f..and out..and justin stands in and i accept The Bulk versus Carlton Fisk i assume it tonight...then back me off no. ok. and we use it later ok caa on yours...due to your son well you can try we use your swat team on you...so we see how it is...onw to now too. we go in hit the slime and thy wil try launchign shortly whiel they are away on prupsoe as forg move in..and hit them saucers Thor

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auburnfamilynews · 4 years

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Chuck Cook-USA TODAY Sports

Could be a fun week ahead

Auburn ended the month of May on fire. They landed three commitments in one day, flipped their top QB target two days later and beat out a number of top schools to secure the pledge of one of the nastiest interior offensive lineman in the 2021 class. In early June, Auburn flipped one of their top tight end targets from the instate Longhorns. On top of that news, momentum was building that Auburn had surged ahead for two of their top wide receiver targets.

Then it all came apart.

4-star WR Christian Leary surprised everyone by committing to Alabama out of the blue. 48 hours before his actual announcement, it leaked that 3-star WR Adonai Mitchell would be flipping to UGA not AU. 4-star S Kamren Kinchens elected to stay home instead of playing on the Plains. Top OL targets 5-star OT Tommy Brockermeyer and 4-star C James Brockermeyer committed to the Tide. 4-star BUCK Jeremiah Williams was supposedly going to announce a commitment before deciding to postpone. News then came out that the Gators had actually pushed ahead in that race and it took a surge from the Tigers to keep that recruitment alive.

Then the calendar turned to August.

On the first day of the new month, Auburn snagged two important commitments along the defensive line. First, 3-star DE Tobechi Okoli surprised quite a few folks with his decision to commit to Auburn. Late that evening, 4-star DT Marquis Robinson decided to go ahead and jump on board as well.

All of a sudden, Uncle Mo had paid a visit to the Plains. Turns out, he might not have left either.

Tomorrow, a long time top WR target for the Tigers, 4-star Malcolm Johnson Jr, is expected to announce his college of choice.

I will be Committing -Friday 14th -10 am

— Malcolm Johnson Jr ⁵ (@TTG_Malcolm) August 13, 2020

Auburn has always been in the race for Johnson but it always felt like they were running 3rd at best. At one point in time, most believed that Maryland or Oklahoma would land the speedster with the deciding factor possibly being who snagged 5-star QB Caleb Williams. But both teams have since been dropped from the list and Johnson has instead focused in on the top 5 teams in the SEC.

Alabama reportedly had momentum earlier this summer and were hoping to pair two of the fastest players in this class at wideout in Johnson and Leary. UGA also loomed large with some even believing the Dawgs had the edge just a few weeks ago.

But with a decision set to come in under 24 hours, Crystal Ball picks and RivalsCasts are pouring in for the good guys. Johnson took a road trip to visit all the top programs on his list sans Florida. Seeing Auburn’s campus in person appears to have been the final piece the Tigers needed to secure one of the fastest players in the country.

Nothing is certain in recruiting so you have to still consider Alabama and Georgia as legitimate threats to steal the Virginia native away but all signs point to the Tigers landing a massive boom tomorrow morning.

Next week likely won’t be quiet either for the Tigers. On Friday, August 21st, 4-star S Ahmari Harvey plans to announce his decision.

I’ll be announcing my commitment on August 21st . #LLG #LL32 #LLN

— A3☔️ (@Ahmari_saucy) August 12, 2020

Harvey had been penciled in as a lock to Florida State’s class for sometime now with only the instate Gators believed to be a real threat. But Wesley McGriff hasn’t relented and Auburn quietly emerged as one of his top teams a couple months ago. With a decision on the horizon, it’s now believed they have surged to #1.

This would be a huge pickup for the Tigers after missing on 4-star S Kamren Kinchens last month. Harvey is an extremely versatile athlete who could play a multitude of positions on the back-end of Auburn’s defense though his future is likely at free safety.

He might not be the only DB addition next week either. One of Auburn’s top instate targets, 3-star CB Kamari Lassiter is also expected to go public with a commitment. The state’s 11th ranked player per 247 Composite sports one of the strongest offer lists you will see this cycle. Auburn, Alabama, Clemson, Georgia and LSU are all involved in this race. At this time, it’s believed to be mostly a Tigers-Dawgs fight with possibly Clemson lurking as a threat.

While his rating might not necessarily blow you away, understand this would be a massive win on the trail for the Tigers. It would mean beating out Kirby Smart and Dabo Swinney for a kid they would absolutely take if he wanted on board.

It’s also not out of the question a surprise boom could emerge before months end as well. There are whispers 5-star CB Ga’Quincy McKinstry is closing in on a decision and Auburn might have emerged as the team to beat. 5-star LB Smael Mondon could commit at anytime though getting an understanding of who sits where on his board is difficult. Still, consensus appears to be Auburn holds a slight edge over the Dawgs. 4-star CB Nyland Green has hinted at an early commitment though it’s believed UGA, LSU and Tennessee are surging in that race. There are also flip targets 3-star WR Hal Presley (Baylor) and 3-star WR Roc Taylor (Tennessee) that Auburn continues to work on. Plus, if 3-star OT Rod Orr or 3-star OL Rayvon Crum land offers they will likely jump on board immediately.

All that to say, expect things to get much busier on the trail for the Tigers to finish off this month. There’s so much uncertainty surrounding college football right now that it would be nice to have some good news to talk about. Chances are good we will get quite a few opportunties to do so before month’s end.

War Eagle!

from College and Magnolia - All Posts https://www.collegeandmagnolia.com/2020/8/13/21366483/auburn-football-recruiting-booms-coming-soon-malcolm-johnson-ahmari-harvey-kamari-lassiter

#IFTTT #Blogger #auburn #auburn fast #wareagle #AuburnFamilyNews #war eagle #sec #football news #aubu

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dettiot · 7 years

Text

For acheaptrickandacheesyoneline: Advice and Gifts 1/1

Advice and Gifts Author: dettiot Rating: T Summary: A glimpse into the future: the night of Oliver’s bachelor party, before he marries Felicity Stark. Disclaimer: I don’t own Arrow, Iron Man or the Marvel Cinematic Universe. No copyright infringement intended. Author’s Note: This is for @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline - happy birthday, hon! I shamelessly stole your Neal McDonough story and used it in this fic, as well as putting in some of your favorite characters. May this be but one of the many fics you receive as gifts!

If you’ve been reading Family Doesn’t End With Blood, this doesn’t spoil anything that’s already happened in the story, and does give you an idea of where the story is going to end up--but really, if you didn’t think I was going to give Felicity and Oliver a happy ending after everything I’ve put them through, you must be new around here. :-)

XXX

Oliver fought his way through the crowd, smiling and nodding and accepting the congratulations of his friends. Well, some of these people were his friends--many of them were acquaintances at best. But at least Tommy had been true to his promise and there were only a few strangers--and none of them were women, Oliver thought to himself with a grin.

Which made sense, since this was Oliver’s bachelor party and he had managed to convince Tommy that he didn’t want a stripper--or strippers, he had been quick to clarify.

His best friend had put on the act of being disappointed, but Oliver knew it was just an act. Tommy was so happy with Laurel, even after nearly two years of marriage, that he didn’t even look at another woman. And in less than twenty-four hours, he would be joining his friend in that state.

Not that he had noticed any woman other than Felicity since the moment he had met her.

“Scotch, neat!” Oliver said to the bartender, raising his voice to be heard over the Frank Sinatra playing on the sound system. Tommy had gone all out, turning Verdant into something out of a Rat Pack movie. There were boxes of cigars, top-shelf liquor, and plenty of food to go with the poker tables set up around the room.

It was a great bachelor party, but Oliver just wanted it to be over. Because then, he would be that much closer to his wedding day.

A hand clapped on his shoulder and Oliver turned, smiling at the man standing beside him. “Hey, Tommy.”

His best friend smiled widely at him. “Hey! You having a good time?”

“I am--this is a great party,” Oliver said.

“But you just want it to be over,” Tommy replied knowingly. “Right?”

Oliver hid his smile in his glass. “You know me too well.”

“Yep. Plus, you’ve only been waiting for this day for what? Three years?”

“Longer,” Oliver answered. “I never wanted a long engagement in the first place, but life got in the way.”

“Nuh-huh,” Tommy argued, pointing at Oliver with his hand still wrapped around his glass. “You guys weren’t ready yet. You still had shit to work out.”

Oliver took a long swallow of his Scotch as he pondered Tommy’s words. There was more than a bit of truth in them, he agreed, but . . .

“We worked it out the hard way.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy said, resting a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “But you’re here now, and stronger than ever, and I’m throwin’ you a bachelor party. At which you are not allowed to brood. On orders from your fiancee.”

Chuckling, Oliver looked at his best friend. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, Felicity was very emphatic about that,” Tommy said. “She said if you seemed like you were slipping, I was supposed to get you with Tony.” He paused and shook his head. “Can’t believe your soon-to-be father-in-law is at your bachelor party. And I thought I had a lack of trust from Quentin.”

He laughed harder. “I think it’s more about Tony not wanting to miss a good party, instead of checking up on me.”

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy. C’mon, let’s get it over with,” Tommy said, taking Oliver’s arm and pulling him over to the table where Tony Stark was holding court, surrounded by Rhodey, Clint, and Digg.

“--and then pound your strip steak!”

The whole table collapsed into laughter, although Oliver noticed that Digg seemed to be laughing the hardest.

“What’s going on?” Tommy asked, resuming his seat next to Digg.

“Tony was telling us the marriage advice he got from Steve before he married Pepper,” Digg explained.

“Courtesy of Dum-Dum Dugan,” Tony said. “Based on the stories that Peggy and my dad told me, I could hear the son-of-a-bitch saying it, which makes it even funnier, I gotta tell you.”

Tommy laughed and gestured to Oliver to sit down. “You’ll have to tell us--I bet Oliver is looking for advice.”

Tony looked up at Oliver, one eyebrow raised. “No, I think Oliver’s gonna be fine.”

There was a moment of silent communication between them, a moment with Tony showing his trust in Oliver and Oliver promising not to break that trust. Because that would mean hurting Felicity, and that was the last thing Oliver had any intention of doing.

His fiancee’s father shuffled the cards and grinned. “Besides, if he’s got cold feet, Oliver’s surrounded himself with people who will hurt him in new and inventive ways, if he’s thinking about backing out.”

“I’m staying out of this,” Rhodey said, tossing some chips into the pot. “I’m officially neutral.”

“And you Felicity’s second-favorite honorary uncle,” Tony griped.

“Anyone need a refill?” Clint asked around the cigar clenched in his teeth. Tony and Digg held up their glasses, and Clint nodded to Oliver. “Gimme a hand here, groom?”

With a small chuckle, Oliver took Digg’s glass and followed Clint to the bar.

“You ready for tomorrow? Really?” Clint asked over his shoulder, only to have someone jostle him and spill some beer on him. “Awww, shirt.”

“I’m ready,” Oliver said once Clint had wiped away the beer. “Felicity and me, we’re stronger than we’ve ever been before.”

Clint gave him a long look as he set the glasses down on the bar, then nodded. “Yeah, I know. So look, there’s someone--two someones--out in the alley who want to talk to you. In private.”

“In private?” Oliver repeated, feeling his body tense from long habit. Because surprise guests were never pleasant, in his experience.

As if reading his thoughts, Clint grinned a little. “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna wake up tomorrow in Tijuana missing your kidney. It’s just two people who don’t wanna crash your wedding unless you give ‘em the okay first.”

“Okay,” Oliver said slowly, putting down his empty glass. “Thanks?”

The older archer smirked and lifted his glass in a salute, taking a healthy swallow as Oliver turned away.

Of course he was feeling cautious about these unexpected visitors--ten years of visitors being bad would do that to a man. Yet Clint’s words had also stoked his curiosity, and as he walked through the alley door, into the crisp December air, Oliver couldn’t help wondering who was waiting for him.

The alley was shrouded in darkness, a streetlamp at its mouth and a dim light over the back door of Verdant providing the only illumination. Looking around, Oliver didn’t see anyone, so he called out quietly.

“Who’s there?”

There was nothing but silence for a moment, until two sets of footprints became audible as two men stepped out of the shadows. Both broad-shouldered and tall, each wearing baseball caps pulled low over their hair.

But Oliver knew immediately that one of them was blonde and one of them was dark-haired.

“Steve? Bucky?” he said in shock.

“Hey, Oliver,” Steve Rogers said quietly. He held his hand out and Oliver automatically took it. “It’s good to see you.”

Bucky nodded. “Hey. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Oliver said breathlessly, still trying to wrap his mind around this. “How did you know? I mean, I know she’s talked to you some, Steve . . . ”

“Yeah. She told me that she wanted to invite me to the wedding, but she was worried about how her dad would take it. So I told her I wouldn’t come--that I didn’t want to cause a scene,” Steve explained.

Oliver frowned. “But Felicity would want you there. And you, too, Bucky. That’s what should matter most.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, a rueful grin on his face. “That was pointed out to me by Nat. And when Felicity got me the intel I needed to help Bucky . . . I was hoping me and Buck coming to her wedding would pay her back for all her help.”

“Of course it would,” Oliver said.

“Even with Tony there, too?” Bucky asked, his voice sounding raspy and rough. Yet when Oliver peered at him, he saw the older man’s eyes looked clear and sharp, like they always had before. They weren’t the eyes of a man who was a mindless killer. After all, Oliver would know.

“Even then. Tony’s a big boy--and he loves Felicity more than anything,” Oliver replied. “He’d want her to have everything she wants on her wedding day. Including two of her favorite uncles. Besides, you really think Tony’s gonna disrupt his daughter’s wedding? Maybe he would before, but . . . he’s come a long way.”

Steve and Bucky exchanged glances for a long moment, and then Bucky cleared his throat. “How’s Pigtails?”

The former assassin’s nickname for Felicity never failed to make Oliver want to grin, and this time, he gave in to the urge. Because it was a pretty adorable nickname. “She’s good--excited and happy for tomorrow, I know. But also, she’s learned a lot in this year. She’s gotten stronger than she already was, wiser and calmer and better.”

Oliver paused, looking at both of them. “She’s better,” he said again. “And she’ll be even better with having you both back in her life.”

Steve’s face lit up with a happy smile, while Bucky seemed to soften, tension visibly draining out of him. “Then you’re okay with us showing up tomorrow?” Steve asked.

“I’m okay with it. In fact, if you two don’t show, I’m gonna rat you out to Natasha,” Oliver promised.

Both men grinned, but their smiles faded as they both realized that Oliver was serious. Bucky muttered something to Steve, who looked suitably worried at the idea of the Black Widow coming after them.

“We’ll be there,” Bucky said. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

“You guys could always come in. Get the Tony meeting over with,” Oliver suggested.

Once again, the two men exchanged looks, but Steve shook his head almost immediately. “No, we’ll wait until tomorrow. This is about Felicity, and if Tony doesn’t like it, he’ll stay quiet for Felicity’s sake.”

“We hope,” Bucky muttered, nearly inaudible.

“C’mon, Buck, have some faith,” Steve said, elbowing his friend. “Besides, you think Felicity is gonna let Tony get away with anything?”

That made Bucky smile. It made Oliver smile, too. Because it was the truth.

Steve grinned and nodded to Oliver. “Congratulations. Go easy on the drinking.”

“Thanks,” Oliver said, watching as they turned. Suddenly, not wanting this moment to be over, he called out, “Wait a minute.”

Both men paused and looked back at Oliver, who felt at a loss for words. Then, he heard himself speaking.

“Tony said that Steve gave him some marriage advice, from . . . Dum-Dum?”

Oliver wasn’t surprised that Steve looked sheepish as he turned around. What did surprise him was how Bucky started to laugh as soon as Oliver said ‘Dum-Dum’.

“Pound your strip steak, right?” Bucky asked with a wide smile, the one that Oliver realized James Buchanan Barnes must have used to get all the girls.

“That’s all I heard,” Oliver said, feeling himself relax.

Bucky patted Steve on the shoulder. “You tell it way better than I could. Go ahead.”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Steve nodded. “Okay. So if you go into a nightclub or something, every woman there is a hamburger. You can get hamburger anywhere. Hamburgers are a buck ninety-nine. With me?”

Nodding, Oliver gestured for Steve to continue.

“Okay, so Felicity? She’s a New York strip steak,” Steve continued. “You are each other’s strip steak. And while you can’t pound a hamburger, you can pound a strip steak.”

Bucky snorted and Oliver couldn’t help laughing. He covered his mouth with his hand and nodded for Steve to keep going.

Steve shot Bucky a look, then said, “You pound the strip steak every night. If you’re fighting, regardless of whether you’re right or wrong, you apologize first. And then you pound the strip steak.”

“Marriage advice from Timothy Aloysius Cadwallader Dugan,” Bucky said. “Better and more accurately known as Dum-Dum.”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. Oliver broke into laughter, grinning widely at both men. “I can see why Tony likes that.”

“Yep,” Steve said. “It’s not bad advice, really. Although I don’t know if Felicity--if any woman--would really get it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it to myself,” Oliver promised with a smile. “Although I would also tell Felicity about all of this if you guys don’t show up tomorrow.”

“Siccing Nat on us is plenty of threat,” Bucky said, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

With a jaunty kind of step that Oliver had never seen from him before, Bucky turned and headed towards the mouth of the alley. Steve smiled at Oliver and nodded. “See you tomorrow, Oliver.”

The former Captain America followed his best friend, both of them melting into the night, and Oliver watched them go.

The happiness that had been like a near-constant cloak around him, ever since he and Felicity had reunited, felt even warmer and stronger than usual. He knew how happy Felicity would be, to see Steve and Bucky tomorrow. And Oliver knew that Tony wouldn’t ruin Felicity’s wedding--and maybe he would even take the occasion to bury the hatchet with Steve.

That would be some wedding gift for the woman who was going to be his wife in less than twenty-four hours.

Smiling to himself, Oliver headed back inside. He felt happy and hopeful and ready. Because after tonight, he would be married to Felicity Stark.

And every night, they were going to pound their strip steak.

End.

#arrow fic #olicity fic #Familyverse #Felicity Stark #Megan you deserve 12% of the credit

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blackkudos · 7 years

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Joe Frazier

Joseph William "Joe" Frazier (January 12, 1944 – November 7, 2011), nicknamed "Smokin' Joe", was an American professional boxer who competed from 1965 to 1981. He reigned as the undisputed heavyweight champion from 1970 to 1973, and as an amateur won a gold medal at the 1964 Summer Olympics. Frazier was known for his sheer strength, durability, formidable punching power, and all-out relentless attack.

Frazier emerged as the top contender in the late 1960s, defeating opponents that included Jerry Quarry, Oscar Bonavena, Buster Mathis, Eddie Machen, Doug Jones, George Chuvalo and Jimmy Ellis en route to becoming undisputed heavyweight champion in 1970, and followed up by defeating Muhammad Ali by unanimous decision in the highly anticipated "Fight of the Century" in 1971. Two years later Frazier lost his title when he was defeated by George Foreman. He fought on, beating Joe Bugner, losing a rematch to Ali and beating Quarry and Ellis again.

Frazier's last world title challenge came in 1975, but he was beaten by Ali in their brutal rubbermatch. He retired in 1976 following a second loss to Foreman. He made a comeback in 1981, fighting just once, before retiring. The International Boxing Research Organization (IBRO) rates Frazier among the ten greatest heavyweights of all time. In 1999, The Ring��magazine ranked him the 8th greatest heavyweight. He is an inductee of both the International Boxing Hall of Fame and the World Boxing Hall of Fame.

Frazier's style was often compared to that of Henry Armstrong and occasionally Rocky Marciano, dependent on bobbing, weaving and relentless pressure to wear down his opponents. His best known punch was a powerful left hook, which accounted for most of his knockouts. In his career he lost to only two fighters, both former Olympic and world heavyweight champions: twice to Muhammad Ali, and twice to George Foreman.

After retiring, Frazier made cameo appearances in several Hollywood movies, and two episodes of The Simpsons. His son Marvis became a boxer—trained by Frazier himself—but was unable to match his father's success. His daughter Jackie Frazier-Lyde also boxed professionally. Frazier continued to train fighters in his gym in Philadelphia. His later years saw periodic insults and bitter feelings towards Ali, interspersed with brief reconciliations.

Frazier was diagnosed with liver cancer in late September 2011 and admitted to hospice care. He died of complications from the disease on November 7, 2011.

Early life

Joe Frazier was the 12th child born to Dolly Alston-Frazier and Rubin in Beaufort, South Carolina. He was raised in a rural community of Beaufort called Laurel Bay. Frazier said he was always close to his father, who carried him when he was a toddler "over the 10 acres of farmland" the Fraziers worked as sharecroppers "to the still where he made his bootleg corn liquor, and into town on Saturdays to buy the necessities that a family of 10 needed." Young Frazier was affectionately called "Billie Boy."

Rubin Frazier had his left hand burned and part of his forearm amputated in a tractor accident the year his son was born. Rubin Frazier and his wife Dolly had been in their car when Arthur Smith, who was drunk, passed by and made a move for Dolly but was rebuffed. Stefan Gallucci, a local barkeep, recounted the experience. When the Fraziers drove away Smith fired at them several times, hitting Dolly in the foot and Rubin several times in his arm. Smith was convicted and sent to prison, but did not stay long. Dolly Frazier said, "If you were a good workman, the white man took you out of jail and kept you busy on the farm."

Frazier's parents worked their farm with two mules, named Buck and Jenny. The farmland was what country people called "white dirt, which is another way of saying it isn't worth a damn." They could not grow peas or corn on it, only cotton and watermelons.

In the early 1950s, Frazier's father bought a black and white television. The family and others nearby came to watch boxing matches on it. Frazier's mother sold drinks for a quarter as they watched boxers like Sugar Ray Robinson, Rocky Marciano, Willie Pep and Rocky Graziano. One night Frazier's Uncle Israel noticed his stocky build. "That boy there...that boy is gonna be another Joe Louis" he remarked. The words made an impression on Joe. His classmates at school would give him a sandwich or a quarter to walk with them at final bell so that bullies would not bother them. Frazier said, "Any 'scamboogah' (a disrespectful, low-down and foul person) who got in my face would soon regret it; Billie Boy could kick anybody's ass." The day after his Uncle's comment, Frazier filled old burlap sack with rags, corncobs, a brick, and Spanish moss. He hung the makeshift heavybag from an oak tree in the backyard. "For the next 6, 7 years, damn near every day I'd hit that heavybag for an hour at a time. I'd wrap my hands with a necktie of my Daddy's, or a stocking of my Momma's or sister's, and get to it" Joe remarked.

Not long after Frazier started working, his left arm was seriously injured while he was running from the family's 300 pound hog. One day Frazier poked the hog with a stick and ran away. The gate to the pigpen was open, however; and the hog chased him. Frazier fell and hit his left arm on a brick. His arm was torn badly; but as the family could not afford a doctor, the arm had to heal on its own. Joe was never able to keep it fully straight again.

By the time Frazier was 15 years old, he was working on a farm for a family named Bellamy. They were both white men: Mac, who was the younger of the two and more easy going, and Jim, who was a little rougher and somewhat backward. One day a little black boy of about 12 years old accidently damaged one of the Bellamys' tractors. Jim Bellamy became so enraged he took off his belt and whipped the boy with his belt right there in the field. Joe saw the event and went back to the packing house on the farm and told his black friends what he had seen. It wasn't long before Jim Bellamy saw Joe and asked him why he told what he had witnessed. Joe then told Bellamy he didn't know what he was talking about, but Bellamy didn't believe Joe and told Joe to get off the farm before he took off his belt again. Joe told him he better keep his pants up because he wasn't going to use his belt on him. Jim then analyzed Joe for a bit and eventually said "Go on, get the hell outta here." Joe knew from that moment it was time for him to leave Beaufort; he could only see hard times and low-rent for himself. Even his Momma could see it. She told Joe "Son, if you can't get along with the white folks, then leave home because I don't want anything to happen to you."

The train fare from Beaufort to the cities up North was costly, and the closest bus-stop was in Charleston, 75 miles (121 km) away. Luckily by 1958, the bus (The Dog, as called by locals in Beaufort) had finally made Beaufort a stop on its South Carolina route. Joe had a brother, Tommy, in New York. He was told he could stay with Tommy and his family. Joe had to save up a bit before he could make the bus trip to New York and still have some money in his pocket, and so first he went to work at the local Coca-Cola plant. Joe remarked that the white guy would drive the truck and he would do the real work, stacking and unloading the crates. Joe stayed with Coca-Cola until the government began building houses for the Marines stationed at Parris Island; at which time he was hired on a work crew.

Nine months eventually passed since he got the boot from the Bellamy farm. One day, with no fanfare, no tearful goodbyes, Joe packed quickly and got the first bus heading northward. He finally settled in Philadelphia, "I climbed on the Dog's back and rode through the night" Joe remarked. "It was 1959, I was 15 years old and I was on my own."

Amateur career

During Frazier's amateur career, he won Golden Gloves Heavyweight Championships in 1962, 1963 and 1964. His only loss in three years as an amateur was to Buster Mathis. Mathis would prove to be Joe's biggest obstacle to making the 1964 U.S. Olympic Boxing team. They met in the final of the U.S. Olympic Trial at the New York World's Fair in the summer of 1964. Their fight was scheduled for three rounds and they fought with 10 oz gloves and with headgear, even though the boxers who made it to Tokyo would wear no headgear and would wear 8 oz gloves. Joe was eager to get back at Mathis for his only amateur loss and KO'd two opponents to get to the finals. But once again, when the dust settled, the judges had called it for Mathis, undeservedly Joe thought. "All that fat boy had done was run like a thief- hit me with a peck and backpedal like crazy." Joe would remark.

Mathis had worn his trunks very high, so that when Joe hit Mathis with legitimate body shots the referee took a dim view of them. In the second round, the referee had gone so far as to penalize Joe two points for hitting below the belt. "In a three-round bout a man can't afford a points deduction like that," Joe would say. Joe then returned to Philadelphia feeling as low as he'd ever been and was even thinking of giving up boxing. Duke Dugent and his trainer Yank Durham were able to talk Joe out of his doldrums and even suggested Joe make the trip to Tokyo as an alternate, in case something happened to Mathis. Joe agreed and while there, he was a workhorse, sparring with any of the Olympic boxers who wanted some action. "Middleweight, light heavyweight, it didn't matter to me, I got in there and boxed all comers" Joe would say. In contrast, Mathis was slacking off. In the morning, when the Olympic team would do their roadwork, Mathis would run a mile, then start walking saying "Go ahead, big Joe. I'll catch up." His amateur record was 38–2.

1964 Olympics

In 1964 heavyweight representative Buster Mathis qualified but was injured so Frazier was sent as a replacement. At the Heavyweight boxing event, Frazier knocked out George Oywello of Uganda in the first round, then knocked out Athol McQueen of Australia 40 seconds into the third round. He was then into the semi-final, as the only American boxer left, facing the 6 foot 2, 214 lb. Vadim Yemelyanov of the Soviet Union.

"My left hook was a heat seeking missile, careening off his face and body time and again. Twice in the second round I knocked him to the canvas. But as I pounded away, I felt a jolt of pain shoot through my left arm. Oh damn, the thumb." Joe would say. Joe knew immediately the thumb of his left hand was damaged, though he wasn't sure as to the extent. "In the midst of the fight, with your adrenaline pumping, it's hard to gauge such things. My mind was on more important matters. Like how I was going to deal with Yemelyanov for the rest of the fight." The match ended when the Soviet's handlers threw in the towel at 1:49 in the second round, and the referee raised Joe's injured hand in victory.

Now that Joe was into the final, he didn't mention his broken thumb to anyone. He went back to his room and soaked his thumb in hot water and Epsom salts. "Pain or not, Joe Frazier of Beaufort, South Carolina, was going for gold." Joe proclaimed. Joe would fight a 30-year-old German mechanic named Hans Huber, who failed to make it on the German Olympic wrestling team. By now Joe was used to fighting bigger guys, but he was not used to doing it with a damaged left hand. When the opening bell sounded on fight night, Joe came out and started swinging punches, he threw his right hand more than usual that night. Every so often he'd used his left hook, but nothing landed with the kind of impact he managed in previous bouts. Under Olympic rules, 5 judges judge a bout, and that night three voted for Joe.

Professional career

After Frazier won the USA's only 1964 Olympic boxing gold medal, his trainer Yancey "Yank" Durham helped put together Cloverlay, a group of local businessmen (including a young Larry Merchant) who invested in Frazier's professional career and allowed him to train full-time. Durham was Frazier's chief trainer and manager until Durham's death in August 1973.

Frazier turned professional in 1965, defeating Woody Goss by a technical knockout in the first round. He won three more fights that year, all by knockout, none going past the third round. Later that year, he was in a training accident, where he suffered an injury which left him legally blind in his left eye. During pre-fight physicals, after reading the eye chart with his right eye, when prompted to cover his other eye, Frazier switched hands, but covered his left eye for a second time, and state athletic commission physicians seemed to not notice or act.

Joe's second contest was of interest in that he was decked in round 1 by Mike Bruce. Frazier took an "8" count by referee Bob Polis but rallied for a TKO over Bruce in round 3.

In 1966, as Frazier's career was taking off, Durham contacted Los Angeles trainer Eddie Futch. The two men had never met, but Durham had heard of Futch through the latter's reputation as one of the most respected trainers in boxing. Frazier was sent to Los Angeles to train, before Futch agreed to join Durham as an assistant trainer. With Futch's assistance, Durham arranged three fights in Los Angeles against journeyman Al Jones, veteran contender Eddie Machen and George "Scrap Iron" Johnson. Frazier knocked out Jones and Machen, but surprisingly went 10 rounds with journeyman Johnson to win a unanimous decision. Johnson had apparently bet all his purse that he'd survive to the final bell, noted Ring Magazine, and somehow he achieved it. But Johnson was known in the trade as "impossibly durable".

After the Johnson match, Futch became a full-fledged member of the Frazier camp as an assistant trainer and strategist, who advised Durham on matchmaking. It was Futch who suggested that Frazier boycott the 1967 WBA Heavyweight Elimination Tournament to find a successor to Muhammad Ali after the Heavyweight Champion was stripped of his title for refusing to be inducted into the military, although Frazier was the top-ranked contender at the time.

Futch proved invaluable to Frazier as an assistant trainer, helping modify his style. Under his tutelage, Frazier adopted the bob-and-weave defensive style, making him more difficult for taller opponents to punch, while giving Frazier more power with his own punches. While Futch remained based in Los Angeles, where he worked as a supervisor with the U.S. Postal Service, he was flown to Philadelphia to work with Frazier during the final preparations for all of his fights.

After Durham died of a stroke on August 30, 1973, Futch was asked to succeed him as Frazier's head trainer and manager—at the same time he was training heavyweight contender Ken Norton. Norton lost a rematch against Ali less than two weeks after Durham's death. At that point, Norton's managers, Robert Biron and Aaron Rivkind, demanded that Futch choose between training Frazier and Norton, with Futch choosing Frazier.

Mid to late 1960s

Now in his second year, in September 1966 and somewhat green, Frazier won a close decision over rugged contender Oscar Bonavena, despite Bonavena flooring him twice in the second round. A third knockdown in that round would have ended the fight under the three knockdown rule. Frazier rallied and won a decision after 12 rounds. The Machen win followed this contest.

In 1967 Frazier stormed ahead winning all six of his fights, including a sixth-round knockout of Doug Jones and a brutal fourth round (TKO) of Canadian George Chuvalo. No boxer had ever stopped Chuvalo before, although Frazier, despite the stoppage, was unable to floor Chuvalo, who would never be dropped in his entire career despite him fighting countless top names.

By February 1967 Joe had scored 14 wins and his star was beginning to rise. This culminated with his first appearance on the cover of Ring Magazine. In this month he met Ali, who hadn't yet been stripped of his title. Ali said Joe would never stand a chance of "whipping" him, not even in his wildest dreams. Later that year, Muhammad Ali was stripped of his world heavyweight title due to his refusal to be inducted into the military during the Vietnam War.

To fill the vacancy, the New York State Athletic Commission held a bout between Frazier and Buster Mathis, both undefeated going into the match, with the winner to be recognized as "World Champion" by the state of New York. Although the fight was not recognized as a World Championship bout by some, Frazier won by a knockout in the 11th round and staked a claim to the Heavyweight Championship. He then defended his claim by beating hard hitting prospect Manuel Ramos of Mexico in two rounds.

He closed 1968 by again beating Oscar Bonavena via a 15-round decision in a hard-fought rematch. Bonavena fought somewhat defensively, allowing himself to be often bulled to the ropes, which let Frazier build a wide points margin. Ring Magazine showed Bonavena afterwards with a gruesomely bruised face. It had been a punishing match.

1969 saw Frazier defend his NYSAC title in Texas, beating Dave Zyglewicz, who'd only lost once in 29 fights, by a first-round knockout. Then he beat Jerry Quarry in a 7th round stoppage. The competitive, exciting match with Quarry was named 1969 Ring Magazinefight of the year. Frazier showed he could do a lot more than just slug. He'd used his newly honed defensive skills to slip, bob and weave a barrage of Quarry punches despite Quarry's reputation as an excellent counter punching heavyweight.

Wins World Championship – Ellis

On February 16, 1970, Frazier faced WBA Champion Jimmy Ellis at Madison Square Garden. Ellis had outpointed Jerry Quarry in the final bout of the WBA elimination tournament for Ali's vacated belt. Frazier had himself declined to participate with the WBA tournament to protest their decision to strip Ali. Ellis held an impressive win over Oscar Bonavena among others. Beforehand, Ali had announced his retirement and relinquished the Heavyweight title, allowing Ellis and Frazier to fight for the undisputed title. Frazier won by a TKO when Ellis's trainer Angelo Dundee would not let him come out for the 5th round following two 4th round knockdowns (the first knockdowns of Ellis's career). Frazier's decisive win over Ellis was a frightening display of power and tenacity.

In his first title defense, Frazier traveled to Detroit to fight World Light Heavyweight Champion Bob Foster, who would go on to set a record for the number of title defenses in the light-heavyweight division. Frazier (26–0) retained his title by twice flooring the hard punching Foster in the second round. The second knock down came on a devastating left hook and Foster could not beat the count. Then came what was hyped as the "Fight Of The Century," his first fight with Muhammad Ali, who had launched a comeback in 1970 after a three-year suspension from boxing. This would be the first meeting of two undefeated heavyweight champions (and last until Mike Tyson faced Michael Spinks in 1988), since Ali (31–0) had not lost his title in the ring, but rather been stripped because of his refusal to be conscripted into the Armed Forces, some considered him to be the true champion. This fight was to crown the one, true heavyweight champion.

Fight of the Century – first fight versus Ali

On March 8, 1971, at Madison Square Garden, Frazier and Ali met in the first of their three bouts which was called the "Fight of the Century" in pre-bout publicity and by the press. With an international television audience and an in-house audience that included luminaries Frank Sinatra (as a photographer for Life magazine to get a ringside seat), comedian Woody Allen, singer Diana Ross and actors Dustin Hoffman and Burt Lancaster (who served as "color commentator" with fight announcer Don Dunphy), the two undefeated heavyweights met in a media-frenzied atmosphere reminiscent of Joe Louis' youth.

Several factors came together for Frazier in this fight. He was 27 years old and at his boxing peak physically and mentally, Ali, 29, was coming back from a three-year absence but had kept active. He had had two good wins, including a bruising battle with Oscar Bonavena, whom Ali had defeated by a TKO in 15 rounds. Frazier worked on strategy with coach Eddie Futch. They noted Ali's tendency to throw a right-hand uppercut from a straight standing position after dropping the hand in preparation to throw it with force. Futch instructed Frazier to watch Ali's right hand and, at the moment Ali dropped it, to throw a left hook at the spot where they knew Ali's face would be a second later. Frazier staggered Ali in the 11th round and knocked down Ali in the 15th in this way.

In a brutal and competitive contest, Frazier lost the first two rounds but was able to withstand Ali's combinations. Frazier was known to improve in middle rounds, and this was the case with Ali. Frazier came on strong after round three, landing hard shots to the body and powerful left hooks to the head.

Ultimately, Frazier won a 15-round, unanimous decision (9–6, 11–4, and 9–6). Ali was taken to hospital immediately after the fight to check that his severely swollen right side jaw (which was apparent in post-fight interviews) wasn't actually broken. Frazier also spent time in hospital during the ensuing month, the exertions of the fight having been exacerbated by hypertension and a kidney infection.

Later in the year he fought a 3-round exhibition against hard hitting veteran contender Cleveland Williams.

In 1972, Frazier successfully defended the title twice, beating Terry Daniels and Ron Stander, both by knockout, in the fourth and fifth rounds respectively. Daniels had earlier drawn with Jerry Quarry and Stander had knocked out Earnie Shavers.

Loses title to George Foreman

Frazier lost his undefeated record of 29–0 and his world championship, at the hands of the unbeaten George Foreman on January 22, 1973, in Kingston, Jamaica. Despite Frazier being the overall favorite, Foreman towered 10 cm (4 inches) over the more compact champion and dominated from the start. Two minutes into the first round, Foreman knocked Frazier down for the first time. After he was knocked down a sixth time in the second round referee Arthur Mercante, Sr. stopped the contest.

Frazier won his next fight, a 12-round decision over Joe Bugner, in London to begin his quest to regain the title.

Mid 1970s – second fight against Ali

Frazier's second fight against Ali took place on January 28, 1974, in New York City. In contrast to their previous meeting, the bout was a non-title fight, with Ali winning a 12-round unanimous decision (4–7, 5–7, and 5–6). The fight was notable for the amount of clinching.

Five months later, Frazier again battled Jerry Quarry in Madison Square Garden, with a strong left hook to the ribs by Frazier ending the fight in the fifth round.

In March 1975, Frazier fought a rematch with Jimmy Ellis in Melbourne, Australia, knocking him out in nine rounds. The win again established Frazier as the number one heavyweight challenger for the title, which Ali had won from George Foreman in the famous "Rumble in the Jungle" five months earlier.

Thrilla In Manila – third Ali fight

Ali and Frazier met for the third and final time in Quezon City (a district within the metropolitan area of Manila), the Philippines, on October 1, 1975: the "Thrilla in Manila". Prior to the fight, Ali took opportunities to mock Frazier by calling him a '"gorilla", and generally trying to irritate him.

The fight was a punishing display on both sides under oppressively hot conditions. During the fight, Ali said to Frazier, "They said you were through, Joe." Frazier said, "They lied." After 14 grueling rounds, Futch stopped the fight with Frazier having a closed left eye, an almost-closed right eye and a cut. Ali later said that it was the "closest thing to dying that I know of.". In 1977, Ali told interviewer Reg Gutteridge that he felt this third Frazier fight was his best performance. When Gutteridge suggested his win over Cleveland Williams, Ali said, "No, Frazier's much tougher and rougher than Cleveland Williams".

Foreman again

In 1976, Frazier (32–3) fought George Foreman for a second time. With a shaved head for a new image Frazier fought well enough, somewhat more restrained than usual, avoiding walking onto the big shots which he had done in their first match. However, Foreman awaited his moment and then lobbed in a tremendous left hook that lifted Frazier off his feet. After a second knock down it was stopped in the fifth. Shortly after the fight, Frazier announced his retirement.

Frazier made a cameo appearance in the movie Rocky later in 1976 and dedicated himself to training local boxers in Philadelphia, where he grew up, including some of his own children. He also helped train Duane Bobick.

Music career

During the late 1970s, Frazier created a soul-funk group called "Joe Frazier and the Knockouts," being mentioned in Billboard and recording a number of singles. Joe toured widely all over the USA and Europe including Ireland where among other places he performed in Donegal, Ireland and Athy Co Kildare, Ireland with his band. Joe Frazier and the Knockouts were featured singing in a 1978 Miller beer commercial.

1980s comeback and career as trainer

In 1981, Frazier attempted a comeback. He drew over 10 rounds with hulking Floyd "Jumbo" Cummings in Chicago, Illinois. It was a bruising battle with mixed reviews. He then retired for good.

After that, Frazier involved himself in various endeavors. Among his sons who turned to boxing as a career, he helped train Marvis Frazier, a challenger for Larry Holmes's world heavyweight title and trained his daughter, Jackie Frazier-Lyde, whose most notable fight to date was a close points loss against Laila Ali, the daughter of his rival.

Frazier's overall record was 32 wins, 4 losses and 1 draw, with 27 wins by knockout. He won 73 percent of his fights by knockout, compared to 60 percent for Ali and 84 percent for Foreman. He was a member of the International Boxing Hall Of Fame.

In 1984, Frazier was the special referee for the NWA World Heavyweight Championship match between Ric Flair and Dusty Rhodes at Starrcade '84, awarding the match to Flair due to Rhodes' excessive bleeding.

In 1986, Frazier appeared as the "corner man" for Mr. T against Roddy Piper at Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum as part of WrestleMania 2. In 1989, Frazier joined Ali, Foreman, Norton and Holmes for the tribute special Champions Forever.

Media appearances

Frazier appeared as himself in an episode of The Simpsons ("Brother, Can You Spare Two Dimes?") in 1992, in which he was supposed to have been beaten up by Barney Gumble in Moe's Tavern. Frazier's son objected and Frazier was instead shown beating up Gumble and putting him in a trash can. Frazier appeared in another episode of The Simpsons ("Homer's Paternity Coot") in 2006. He appeared on-screen in the 8th series of The Celebrity Apprentice (USA) television show as a guest-attendee at the Silent Auction event held for the season finale (won by Joan Rivers). Frazier appeared as himself in the Academy Award-winning 1976 movie, Rocky. Since the debut of the Fight Night series of games, Frazier appeared in Fight Night 2004, Fight Night Round 2, Fight Night Round 3, Fight Night Round 4 and Fight Night Champion, games made by EA Sports.

Books

Frazier released his autobiography in March 1996, entitled Smokin' Joe: The Autobiography of a Heavyweight Champion of the World, Smokin' Joe Frazier. Frazier promoted the book with a memorable appearance on The Howard Stern Show on April 19, 1996.

He also wrote Box like the Pros, "a complete introduction to the sport, including the game's history, rules of the ring, how fights are scored, how to spar, the basics of defence and offence, the fighter's workout, a directory of boxing gyms, and much more. Box Like the Pros is an instruction manual, a historical reference tool and an insider's guide to the world's most controversial sport."

Financial issues and legal battles

According to an article from The New York Times, "over the years, Frazier has lost a fortune through a combination of his own generosity and naïveté, his carousing, and failed business opportunities. The other headliners from his fighting days—Ali, George Foreman, and Larry Holmes—are millionaires." Asked about his situation, Frazier became playfully defensive, but would not reveal his financial status. "Are you asking me how much money I have?" he said. "I got plenty of money. I got a stack of $100 bills rolled up over there in the back of the room." Frazier blamed himself, partly, for not effectively promoting his own image. In a 2006 HBO documentary on the fight in Manila, Frazier was interviewed living in a one-room apartment on the second floor of his gym.

His daughter Jackie Frazier-Lyde is a lawyer and worked on her father's behalf in pursuit of money they claimed he was owed in a Pennsylvania land deal. In 1973, Frazier purchased 140 acres in Bucks County, Pennsylvania for $843,000. Five years later, a developer agreed to buy the farmland for $1.8 million. Frazier received annual payments from a trust that bought the land with money he had earned in the ring. However, when the trust went bankrupt, the payments ceased.

Frazier sued his business partners, insisting his signature had been forged on documents and he had no knowledge of the sale. In the ensuing years, the 140 acres was subdivided and turned into a residential community. The land is now worth an estimated $100 million.

Relationship with Muhammad Ali

Frazier and Ali were friends. During Ali's enforced three-year lay-off from boxing for refusing to be drafted into the US Army, Frazier lent him money, testified before Congress and petitioned U.S. President Richard Nixon to have Ali's right to box reinstated. Frazier supported Ali's right not to serve in the army, saying "If Baptists weren't allowed to fight, I wouldn't fight either."

However, in the build-up to their first fight, The Fight of the Century, Ali turned it into a "cultural and political referendum", painting himself as a revolutionary and civil rights champion and Frazier as the white man's hope, an "Uncle Tom" and a pawn of the white establishment. Ali successfully turned many black Americans against Frazier. Bryant Gumbel joined the pro-Ali, anti-Frazier bandwagon by writing a major magazine article that asked "Is Joe Frazier a white champion with black skin?" Frazier thought this was "a cynical attempt by Clay to make me feel isolated from my own people. He thought that would weaken me when it came time to face him in that ring. Well, he was wrong. It didn't weaken me, it awakened me to what a cheap-shot son of a bitch he was." He noted the hypocrisy of Ali calling him an Uncle Tom when his [Ali's] trainer (Angelo Dundee) was white.

As a result of Ali's campaign, Frazier's children were bullied at school and his family were given police protection after receiving death threats. Ali declared that if Frazier won he would crawl across the ring and admit that Frazier was the greatest. After Frazier won by a unanimous decision, he called upon Ali to fulfill his promise and crawl across the ring, but he didn't. Ali called it a "white man's decision" and insisted that he won.

During a televised joint interview prior to their second bout in 1974, Ali continued to insult Frazier, who took exception to Ali calling him "ignorant" and challenged him to a fight, which resulted in the two of them brawling on the studio floor. Ali went on to win the 12 round non-title affair by a decision. Ali took things further in the build-up to their last fight, The Thrilla in Manila, and called Frazier "the other type of negro" and "ugly", "dumb" and a "gorilla" At one point he sparred with a man in a gorilla suit and pounded on a rubber gorilla doll, saying "This is Joe Frazier's conscience... I keep it everywhere I go. This is the way he looks when you hit him." According to the fight's promoter Don King, this enraged Frazier, who took it as a "character assassination" and "personal invective". One night before the fight, Ali waved around a toy pistol outside Frazier's hotel room. When Frazier came to the balcony, he pointed the gun at Frazier and yelled "I am going to shoot you." After the fight, Ali summoned Frazier's son Marvis into his dressing room, and told him that he had not meant what he had said about his father. When informed of this by Marvis, Frazier responded: "you ain't me, son. Why isn't he apologizing to me?"

For years afterwards, Frazier retained his bitterness towards Ali and suggested that Ali's battle with Parkinson's syndrome was a form of divine retribution for his earlier behavior. In 2001, Ali apologized to Frazier via a New York Times article, saying "In a way, Joe's right. I said a lot of things in the heat of the moment that I shouldn't have said. Called him names I shouldn't have called him. I apologize for that. I'm sorry. It was all meant to promote the fight". Frazier reportedly "embraced it", though he later retorted that Ali only apologized to a newspaper, not to him. He said: "I'm still waiting [for him] to say it to me." To this Ali responded: "If you see Frazier, you tell him he's still a gorilla."

Frazier told Sports Illustrated in May 2009 that he no longer held hard feelings for Ali. After Frazier's death in November 2011, Ali was among those who attended the private funeral services for Frazier in Philadelphia. The Rev. Jesse Jackson, who spoke during the service, asked those in attendance to stand and "show your love" and reportedly Ali stood with the audience and clapped "vigorously".

Later years

Frazier lived in Philadelphia where he owned and managed a boxing gym. Frazier put the gym up for sale in mid-2009. He was diagnosed with diabetes and high blood pressure. He and his nemesis, Muhammad Ali, alternated over the years between public apologies and public insults. In 1996, when Ali lit the Olympic flame in Atlanta, Frazier told a reporter that he would like to throw Ali into the fire. Frazier made millions of dollars in the 1970s, but the article cited mismanagement of real-estate holdings as a partial explanation for his economic woes. Frazier stated repeatedly that he no longer had any bitter feelings towards Ali. The National Trust for Historic Preservation has named the Joe Frazier's Gym in its 25th list of America's 11 Most Endangered Historic Places in 2012. In 2013, the gym was named to the National Register of Historic Places.

Frazier continued to train young fighters, although he needed multiple operations for back injuries sustained in a car accident. He and Ali reportedly attempted a reconciliation in his final years, but in October 2006 Frazier still claimed to have won all three bouts between the two. He declared to a Times reporter, when questioned about his bitterness toward Ali, "I am what I am."

Frazier attempted to revive his music interests in late 2009/2010. Notably popular for singing 'Mustang Sally,' both Frazier and manager Leslie R. Wolff teamed up with Welsh Rock Solo artist Jayce Lewis to release his repertoire in the U.K., later visiting the Welshman in U.K. to a host a string of after dinner speeches and music developments. It would notably be Frazier's last U.K. appearance.

Death

Frazier was diagnosed with liver cancer in late September 2011. By November 2011, he was under hospice care, where he died on November 7. Upon hearing of Frazier's death, Muhammad Ali said, "The world has lost a great champion. I will always remember Joe with respect and admiration." Frazier's private funeral took place on November 14 at the Enon Tabernacle Baptist Church in Philadelphia and in addition to friends and family was attended by Muhammad Ali, Don King, Larry Holmes, Magic Johnson, Dennis Rodman, among others. He was later buried at the Ivy Hill Cemetery, a short drive from the Enon Tabernacle Baptist Church.

In popular media

He was played by boxer James Toney in the 2001 film, Ali.

He played in "The Fight of the Century" against Ali.

Some of the most memorable moments in the 1976 boxing-themed feature film, Rocky—such as Rocky's carcass-punching scenes and Rocky running up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, as part of his training regimen—are taken from Frazier's real-life exploits. In the film, Frazier makes a cameo appearance, promoting the fight between Rocky and Apollo.

In March 2007, a Joe Frazier action figure was released as part of a range of toys based on the Rocky film franchise, developed by the American toy manufacturer, Jakks Pacific.

Electric bassist Jeff Berlin wrote a musical tribute simply called "Joe Frazier," originally recorded on the Bill Bruford album Gradually Going Tornado, available on the compilation album Master Strokes.

Mr. Sandman, a video game character in the Punch-Out!! video game series known for being one of the toughest opponents, was based in part on Frazier.

His granddaughter, Latrice Frazier, appeared on an episode of Maury.

Wikipedia

#Joe Frazier

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robertkstone · 5 years

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Celebrity Drive: Comedian and Host Thomas “Nephew Tommy” Miles

Quick Stats: Thomas Miles, comic/host The Steve Harvey Morning Show and OWN’s Ready to Love Daily Driver: 2010 Rolls-Royce Ghost (Thomas’ rating: 10 on a scale of 1 to 10) Other cars: See below Favorite road trip: Pacific Coast Highway Car he learned to drive in: 1980 Cadillac Coupe DeVille First car bought: Acura Legend

Comic and host Thomas “Nephew Tommy” Miles may have a Rolls-Royce and a Bentley in the garage, but his heart will always be with his less flashy 2012 Ford F-150, because it was his dad’s last car.

He bought the F-150 for his dad, who passed away three years ago. “After my dad passed, my sister and I purchased my mother a home. My mother lives in my neighborhood and [we] share the pickup truck. We’re a big fishing family. She’ll take the truck and run to the lake or to the ocean in Galveston and go fishing. When she comes back, she’ll say, ‘Hey, you need the truck?’”

For the emotional comfort it offers to be able to sit where his dad sat the last time he drove, Miles gives the Ford a perfect 10.

“I love it, and it’s my dad’s. It’s sentimental and means a lot to us. My dad had a dent on this car and I told my mom, ‘We’re not getting rid of the dent. We’re going to keep this dent,’” he says with a laugh.

But after his annual Christmas party, he had too many trash bags and he let his neighbor dump them for him at his business. “He gets my truck and then he calls 30 minutes later, ‘Thomas.’ I was like, ‘Please, tell me nothing happened.’ He said, ‘You’re not going to believe this.’”

As his neighbor drove on the Houston freeway, out of the clear blue a deer runs across the road and into the truck. “When the insurance people took the car to get fixed, they fixed the whole thing, we lost the dent,” he says.

Dent or not, this is often Miles’ go-to car when he wants to feel his dad’s presence. “I get in and sometimes I just break down and cry and I can’t take it. I do it all the time,” he says. “I’m in my dad’s truck today, I’ve been hauling stuff around. I needed some firewood.”

Miles’ normal daily driver is a 2010 Rolls-Royce Ghost, which he also rates a perfect 10. “It’s a luxury drive, it’s so smooth, it glides. You feel like you’re on carpet. I like the way it looks; it’s so sleek, it’s regal. I like class,” he says.

Most of the time he’s in the back seat, though. “My driver’s normally driving me around, especially if I’m going out and hanging out with the fellows, and the amenities in the back are just phenomenal. When you get in the car, you don’t have to pull the door to the little button, you hold and it closes it.”

His kids love the Rolls, as well, especially when it rains. “If it’s raining, inside the doors there is an umbrella on each side; you push a button, and the umbrella pops out,” he says. “The only thing that might be a dislike is it does draw a lot of attention, and sometimes you’re not really wanting all that attention.”

2009 Ford Flex

Rating: 8

Miles has this free Ford Flex in his garage thanks to his role on a nationally syndicated radio show. “I did a campaign on the radio for Ford a few years back, and not only did they pay me, but they also gave me a Ford Flex,” he says. “It’s been the daddy mobile where we load up, we go play baseball, football, soccer mom. It’s the diehard vehicle of the family. It takes care of everything.”

When Ford offered it, he took it. “They sent this car to this guy in New York, and he soups all these cars out. So when it was delivered to me in Texas, it had … rims on it, it had TVs in the headrest for my kids, it had an Xbox game in it, it had everything,” Miles says.

What he likes about the Flex is that it’s great for the whole family. “We’re all comfortable. When we’re on the road going out of town, whether to Galveston to the beach or to Dallas to some friends, it’s just a family-oriented vehicle where everybody’s got something to do the whole time in the car. Nobody’s bored,” he says. “I don’t think I have any dislikes about it. When you’ve got a free car, what’s there to dislike?”

Car he learned to drive in

Miles learned to drive on a tractor in Texas. “My uncle owned a land field, and at the age of 12 and 13, I was driving dirt and trash into a huge body of water,” he says. “I learned how to drive trucks, dump trucks, tractors.”

He officially learned on his mother’s canary yellow 1980 Cadillac Coupe DeVille.

“The kids used to tease me, ‘Look at the big banana Thomas is driving.’ But it was still a nice car, so I didn’t care,” he says. “I didn’t have a high school car—I had to have permission to drive my mom and dad’s car.”

His dad was his driving instructor who made sure to teach him how to drive properly. “His attention was always on driving, he was never lax on it … he was very thorough [and] made sure there were no mistakes,” Miles recalls.

That also meant Miles couldn’t make any mistakes, either. “If I got anything wrong while we were going around the block or something, then I didn’t get to drive the next day,” he says. “So I made sure I didn’t get anything wrong because he’d take a day off on teaching me.”

Much of those lessons were about being a good listener. “That’s what the whole lesson was, is to listen to what he’s saying, get it down, this is what we’re working on—the signal light, the way you ease up to a stop sign, instead of stopping abruptly,” he recalls. “He was just very thorough. So by the time I got to high school and the 10th grade, we could take defensive driving in school at 15, I had been driving already, for everything.”

First car bought

The first car Miles bought was a used Acura Legend from a fraternity brother. Although he can’t remember the model year, he remembers the car fondly.

“They don’t make those anymore. He sold it to me, and it was probably the worst deal I ever made because every two weeks I owed this guy 200 bucks, and that was a lot of money,” he says. “My father was like, ‘That was the dumbest deal you’ve ever done.’ But I liked the car, and he had it all nice with rims on it. I was like, ‘This is the best car, I’m never getting rid of it.’”

Miles made money from mowing lawns to pay for it. “Every morning I would get up and go pick up these laborers, they’d jump on the back of the trailer, we got lawn mowers, weed eaters, and we would cut 25 to 30 yards in one day,” he says. “That was my hustle. I toured with stage plays the majority of the time, but in the summer we were off. I would come home and I would run my cousin’s lawn service just to keep money coming in; that way I wouldn’t blow all my money that I made on the road while I was out performing.”

But after three years of paying his fraternity brother for the car, Miles had a tough time making payments. “He goes, ‘I’ll buy it back from you.’ And he buys it back from me, and it was so much cheaper than what I gave him,” he says.

Favorite road trip

Miles’ favorite road trip is the Pacific Coast Highway from San Francisco to Los Angeles, and not for the reason one would think.

“I just finished doing a comedy club in Oakland, and my road manager at the time said, ‘I don’t want to fly to L.A.’ I said, ‘Everybody talks about the drive up the coast; I want to drive up the coast.’”

His road manager found a rental, and they had a certain time they had to arrive and started on the drive. “He gets a nice SUV, a Tahoe, and I’m in a back with a pillow and a blanket, and I’m like a kid with all my snacks and goodies, and I’m like, ‘Yeah, we’re going up the coast!’ This was the scariest damn ride I have ever taken in my life. I could not believe all twists and turns. I’m looking off on the edge, I’m like, ‘There’s no barriers, there’s nothing that stops you from going over!’”

It was too late to turn around, so Miles made his manager drive 20 mph. “I don’t care how many people are behind us, damn it, drive slow! This is scary as all get out,” Miles recounts. “I had an appointment in L.A., I don’t give a damn, I called and cancelled the appointment, we are going to get there in one piece. We went through these little towns; I made him stop at rest areas so I could breathe. Just let me catch my breath and say, ‘OK, all right, I’m ready to go again, let’s drive another hour. Let’s get through this.’ I was terrified.”

He does recall seeing sea lions resting on rocks. “We saw all the good stuff that people want to get out, and I was like, ‘I don’t want a picture, just keep going, I’m good.’ That is the road trip that I will never forget—I thought it was beautiful, it was breathtaking, but it really did take my breath, though. It really scared the hell out of me,” he says with a laugh.

The Steve Harvey Morning Show and OWN’s Ready to Love

In addition to being the host on OWN’s Ready to Love show, Miles can be heard every morning from 6 to 10 a.m. ET on the nationally syndicated radio show as Steve Harvey’s co-host, where he’s known for his prank phone calls.

He got the gig after he was touring with Luther Vandross. During a hiatus, he was asked to sit in on the show by Harvey’s manager.

“I’m like, ‘Hey, I’ve been doing this for a week now,’ and the next thing I look up, it’s two weeks and all of a sudden it’s like, ‘Steve wants to keep doing this.’ Are you serious? ‘I can do this for a while, but when Luther calls me I’ve got to go, I can’t be playing on the radio with y’all.’ The craziest thing is that Luther Vandross never went back out—during that hiatus time, he died. I look at it like God gave me a job before I even knew I needed one. And here we are 15 year later, and I’m still on the radio.”

Miles will always be grateful for that serendipitous moment. “This show has been far more than I could have possibly imagined. It has written my check for who I am today. I’m able to go and sell out venues across the country doing standup comedy because … people love who I am on that radio, and when they hear I’m coming to town, I’m sold out before I get there,” he says.

He sees the show as a real blessing. “At first I didn’t take it serious, and then all of a sudden I started I realizing this is like a gift from God right here. I am able to do everything,” he says. “This past year I bought my wife a Bentley, and that’s what she rides around in. So I’m able to really give my family a whole different lifestyle because of this radio world that I live in.”

The Heckler

Miles is also producing and starring in the short film The Heckler, a dark comedy about a comic competing to win a comedy competition that could help pay for a costly bone marrow transplant for his dying son.

“He’s the best comedian in the competition, but on that night here comes the freaking heckler who kills every chance of this guy winning. But he finds out later that one of his best buddies who won the competition paid the heckler to make his show bad so he can win,” he says. “Everything hits the fan. It’s gritty and brutal and then there’s funny in between. … Look out for it because it will hit the film festival scene and you’re not going to be ready for it.”

For more information visit ThomasMiles.com