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gothhabiba · 7 months

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[November 10, 2023. An exerpt:]

Gathering at the Port

The Port of Tacoma and the nearby ICE detention center are located in an industrial area that also houses a police academy. They are only accessible through narrow choke points; in the past, police have taken advantage of these to target and harass protesters. The preceding action at the Port of Oakland took place in a more urban terrain; as protesters prepared for the ship to dock in Tacoma, concerns grew about the various possibilities for repression. Veterans of the Port Militarization Resistance and other logistically-minded individuals compiled lists of considerations to take into account when carrying out an action at this particular port.

Other anarchists remained at a distance, standing by to do jail support and advising the participants on security precautions. Others set up at the nearby casino, investigating and squashing rumors in the growing signal groups and helping to link people to the information or communication loops they needed. Whether autonomously or in conversation with the organizers, all of them did their best to contribute to the unfolding action.

The demonstration successfully accomplished what some had thought might be impossible, preventing the ILWU workers from loading the military shipment. Unexpectedly, this was not enough. Even seasoned longshoremen were surprised that the military could be brought in to act as scabs by loading the ship.

Could we have focused instead on blocking the equipment from reaching the port in the first place? According to publicly available shift screens, the cargo that was eventually loaded onto the ship had already arrived at the port before the action’s originally planned 2:30 pm start time on November 5. Considering that Sunday afternoon was arguably the earliest that anyone could mobilize a mass action on such short notice, it is not surprising that the idea of blocking the cargo was abandoned in favor of blocking the ILWU workers. Of course, if the information that military supplies were entering the port had circulated earlier, something else might have been possible.

The organizers chose the approach of blocking the workers in spite of the tension it was bound to cause with the ILWU Local 23. Our contacts in the ILWU describe the Local 23 president as a Zionist; most workers in Local 23 were supposedly against the action, despite respecting the picket. The president allegedly went so far as to suggest bringing in ILWU workers on boats, a plan that the military apparently rejected.

There were rumors that a flotilla of kayaks was organizing to impede the Orlando’s departure the following morning. In the end, a canoe piloted by members of the Puyallup, Nisqually, and other Coast Salish peoples and accompanied by a few kayakers blocked the ship’s path for a short time on November 6, but nothing materialized for November 7.

This intervention is an important reminder of the ethical and strategic necessity of working with Indigenous groups who know the land and water and preserve a living memory of struggle against colonial violence that includes repeatedly outmaneuvering the United States military.

The ship departed, but one Stryker Armored Personnel Carrier that was scheduled for work according the ILWU shift screens was not loaded, presumably due to the picket. Given the military work-crew’s inexperience in loading shipping containers, it’s unclear how much of the shipment was completely loaded in the time allotted for the ship, as ports hold to a strict schedule in order not to disrupt capital’s global supply chains.

Evaluation

The main organizers received feedback in the course of the protest and adapted their strategy as the situation changed, shifting their communication to articulate what they were trying to do and explaining their choices rather than simply appealing to their authority as an organization or as Palestinians. Nonetheless, some participants have expressed displeasure about how things unfolded. It was difficult to get comprehensive information about what was going on, and this hindered people from making their own decisions and acting autonomously. Some anarchists who were on the ground report that the vessel was still being loaded when the organizers called off the event; others question the choice not to reveal the fact that the military was loading the equipment while the demonstration still had numbers and momentum.

It is hard to determine to what extent organizers intentionally withheld information. We believe that it is important to offer constructive feedback and principled criticism while resisting the temptation to make assumptions about others’ intentions (or, at worst, to engage in snitch-jacketing, which can undermine efforts to respond to actual infiltration and security breaches in the movement and often contributes to misdiagnosing the problems in play).

Cooperating with the authorities—especially at the expense of other radicals—is always unacceptable. This is a staple of events dominated by authoritarian organizations. Fortunately, nothing of this kind appears to have occurred during the blockade on November 6. Those on either side of this debate should be careful to resist knee-jerk reactions and to avoid projecting bad intentions onto imagined all-white “adventurists” or repressive “peace police.”

In that spirit, we will spell out our concern. The organizers simultaneously announced that the weapons had been loaded onto the ship, and at the same time, declared victory. This fosters room for suspicion that the original intention had been to “block the boat” symbolically without actually hampering the weapons shipment, in order to create the impression of achieving a “movement win” without any substantive impact. Such empty victories can deflate movements and momentum, sowing distrust in the hundreds of people who showed up on short notice with the intention of stopping weapons from reaching Israel. It might be better to acknowledge failure, admitting that despite our best efforts, the authorities succeeded in their goal, and affirming that we have to step up our efforts if we want to save lives in Gaza. We need organizers to be honest with us so we know what we are up against.

It’s important to highlight that ultimately it was the military that loaded the ship, not the ILWU. This move was unprecedented, just like the military spying on demonstrators during the Port Militarization Resistance. But it should not have been unexpected. From now on, we should bear in mind that the military is prepared to intervene directly in the logistics of capitalism.

This also highlights a weakness in the strategy of blocking a ship by means of a picket line and blockading the streets around the terminal. To have actually stopped the ship, a much more disruptive action would have been called for, potentially including storming the terminal itself and risking police violence and arrests. This isn’t to say that storming the port would have been practical, nor to argue that there is never any reason to blockade the terminal in the way that we did. Rather, the point is that the mechanics of war-capitalism are more pervasive and adaptable than the strategies that people employed to block it in Oakland and Tacoma. Any form of escalation will require more militancy and risk tolerance.

At the same time, we should be honest about our capabilities, our limits, and the challenges we face. Although many people were prepared to engage in a picket, storming a secured facility involves different considerations and material preparation, and demands a cool-headed assessment of benefits versus consequences. We should not simply blame the organizers for the fact that it did not happen. A powerful enough movement cannot be held back, not even by its leaders.

Considering that the United States military outmaneuvered the picket strategy—and in view of the grave stakes of what is occurring Palestine—”Why not storm the port?” might be a good starting point for future strategizing. Yet from this point forward, the port is only going to become more and more secure. Another approach would be to pan back from the port, looking for points of intervention outside it. In this regard, the rail blockade in Olympia in 2017 might offer a promising example.

Likewise, while we should explore ways to resolve differences when we have to work together, we can also look for ways to share information and coordinate while organizing autonomously. We might not be able to reach consensus about what strategy to use, but we can explore where we agree and diverge, acquire and circulate intelligence, and try many different strategies at once.

#long post /#tacoma port action #readings

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50calmadeuce · 2 months

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Ch. 11: Texas Now

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

Caught in the transition from the memory to the present, you blinked, refocusing on Jake's expectant gaze. The shift from recollection to reality brought a renewed sense of clarity, along with the weight of the unresolved tension hanging between you.

"Well?" Jake repeated, his voice pressing for a response, a mix of concern and impatience lacing his words.

"You'll be given as much explanation as you provided when you left," you stated, starting to turn on your heel toward the bedroom, when Jake seized your arm.

You turned your head back and looked at him. "Let go of me, Jake," you demanded and headed towards his bedroom. Jake following close behind and he closed the door behind you.

"Darlin', I'm sorry. I don't know how many times I can say it," he said.

You faced him, tears brimming in your eyes. "As many damn times as I need to hear it! You walked away from me, Jake! You might have needed to prove something to those above, but down here," you gestured emphatically towards the floor, "I had to prove myself!"

He stared at you, at a loss for words.

Frustrated, you threw your hands in the air. "And then you return, behaving as if just sleeping with me again would mend everything. Listen here, pal, those four years were lengthy for me as well, and it's not like I was without options."

"Well, I wasn't exactly lacking attention from women either," he retorted, the sting of the situation finally dawning on him.

Your gaze fixed on him, tears of anger streaming down your face. "So what?"

He met your eyes, a heavy silence filling the space between you. "I was married. That's what. I didn't even tell my closest friend. Imagine his surprise when I mentioned I was heading back home to Wisconsin as a married man."

The revelation hung in the air, thick with emotions and unsaid thoughts. You could see the mix of pride, vulnerability, and a hint of defiance in his posture as he shared this piece of his life with you. It was a side of him that few got to see—the side that made life-altering decisions based on what he felt in his heart, regardless of the consequences or the opinions of others.

"Jake, that's... that's huge," you finally managed, your voice soft, reflecting the complexity of your feelings. "Why didn't you tell anyone? Were you afraid of their reactions?"

He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I was. It wasn't just about their reactions, though. It was about making something in my life purely mine, ours, without the world weighing in on it before we even had a chance to live it. What about you?"

"A month later, I removed my wedding band. The people close to me were aware of my circumstances. Then, I met someone who didn't seem to mind at all."

As you perched on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around yourself, confusion clouded Jake's face.

"Doctor Dorian Stryker," you disclosed. "He approached me while I was in Wyoming, working. He admired my genetic research on cattle and suggested we co-author a book about it. Naturally, I agreed. Why wouldn't I?"

Jake moved closer and settled on the edge of the bed beside you.

"The research and the study went really well. He inquired about me, about my life." You turned to Jake. "I told him I was married to a fighter pilot who was currently deployed. He mentioned that he was the child of parents who served, so he understood what that was like." You inhaled deeply. "Then, there was a fair. That's where I met Chuck. I observed people dancing, having fun. I saw couples holding each other close and I wondered if that's what you still wanted." Tears began to well up in your eyes once more. "Dorian noticed me and asked if I'd like to dance. I agreed. We stepped onto the dance floor, and he pulled me close. I closed my eyes, Jake, and it was you I imagined holding me. Before I knew it, his lips found mine. When I opened my eyes and realized it wasn't you, I pushed him away. Just then, Chuck saw us and called out my name. I ran to him and ended up going to the hotel alone that night. I didn't encounter Dorian again until I returned to Texas. Our work was well-received by the professors, leading to its publication. Dorian attempted to reach out to me, but I refused to engage with him. By then, the house was finished, so I went back to Wisconsin, reached out to a local veterinarian and got hired, and focused on turning our house into a home, harboring the wish every day that you would return." Tears quietly traced down your cheeks. "I felt like I had made a mistake by pursuing my dream, just as you chased yours."

Jake reached out, drawing you into his embrace as you began to sob uncontrollably. "Oh, darlin'. No, you didn't do anything wrong."

"I needed you, Jake, and you weren't there," you mumbled into his chest as you continued to cry.

"I know. I suppose I won't be winning any 'Best Husband of the Year' awards, but I'm here now."

You sat up to face him directly. "Are you really?" The sound of your phone caught your attention. You picked it up and glanced at the screen, reading the incoming text message. "It's Dr. Colson. He wants to meet," you said, standing up. "I need to clean up and head out." With those words, you made your way to the bathroom, leaving Jake seated on the edge of the bed, absorbed in thought.

You maneuvered the red F-150 into a spot in the guest parking nearest to the Agricultural and Life Sciences building. After freshening up, you had opted for a new pair of jeans, a tan tank top beneath a brown and tan lightweight plaid shirt, and finished the look with brown cowboy boots and a distressed brown baseball cap, your brown hair in a ponytail.

Exiting the truck, you made your way to the building's entrance, pushed open the door, and walked towards Dr. Colson's office. Finding his door ajar, you knocked.

"Come in," came the reply from inside.

You entered and halted in your tracks at the sight of a dark-haired individual seated in front of Dr. Colson's desk. Dr. Colson rose to his feet. "Y/N! We were just discussing you!"

The figure in the chair stood and faced you. It was Dorian.

Dr. Colson came over, and the two of you embraced. "You remember Dr. Stryker, right?"

Dorian gave you a nod, and you managed a smile. "Of course."

"Please, take a seat," Dr. Colson urged, indicating the chair beside Dorian.

With cautious steps, you moved to the chair and sat, feeling Dorian's gaze follow you closely.

Once seated, Dr. Colson resumed his place behind the desk. "We were discussing the upcoming conference this weekend. Dorian proposed that we include you in his genetics lecture."

You offered a smile. "I'd be happy to. I'll just need to organize my notes tonight. This was quite the surprise."

"We wouldn't want to impose if it feels like too much," Dorian added.

Turning towards him, you replied, "No, it's not any pressure at all."

"It should be manageable. We're primarily covering material from the book," he replied, his crystal blue eyes meeting yours.

"In that case, I should be just fine," you said, reassured by the familiar content.

"Then it's settled!" Dr. Colson declared with enthusiasm, handing over two passes to you. "These are for you and your husband. I presume he'll be attending?"

With a smile, you responded, "Yes, he will be."

Dr. Colson extended two tickets towards you. "These are for the reception on Saturday night. I'm eager to meet your husband."

Gratefully, you accepted the tickets. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

Standing up, you quickly made your way out the door.

As you stepped out of the Agriculture and Science building and neared your truck, a familiar voice calling your name halted your steps.

Turning around, you recognized Dorian approaching you. His six-foot-two frame was clad in jeans, a polo shirt, and tennis shoes, his midnight black hair combed to such perfection that not a single strand was out of place.

When he reached you, he observed, "You're quick."

"I have some preparations for this weekend, Dorian. What's up?" you asked, slightly rushed.

His piercing blue eyes scanned you briefly. "It's nice to see you again, Y/N."

"Likewise, Dorian. Was there something you needed?"

He passed a hand through his hair, a gesture of hesitation or perhaps unease. "I wanted to… apologize for last time…"

"It's fine. I've moved past it," you reassured him quickly.

"Are you and your husband back together then?"

"We never really parted, aside from his deployment."

"That's not what I heard," he countered, a hint of doubt in his tone.

"You shouldn't always listen to what people say," you replied, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "Look, I really need to go." Turning, you began to walk toward your truck, eager to leave the conversation behind.

"I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N," he suddenly blurted out, causing you to pause momentarily.

You spun back to face him, your expression firm. "Well, I never spent my time thinking about you. Goodbye, Dorian." With those final words, you turned again and continued on your way to the truck, leaving the conversation—and Dorian—behind.

You pulled the truck to a stop outside the garage at your in-laws' house, reached over to grab the garment bag holding your dress for the next evening, and then stepped out of the truck.

As you stepped inside the house, Cindy was there to greet you warmly. "Oh, Y/N! There's something wrong with one of the horses. I need you to take a look. Here, let me take your garment bag and hang it up for you," she offered, reaching for the bag you carried. "I was about to call the local vet, but since you're here, I thought maybe…"

You offered her a reassuring smile. "It's okay. I'll check on him."

"He's in the back ring," she informed you, indicating where you needed to go.

"Okay." You walked back out the door and headed towards behind the barn.

As you made your way around the building, your gaze lifted to find Jake perched atop his chestnut mare.

Pausing, you took in the sight of Jake. He was dressed in a white tank top beneath a red and white plaid lightweight short-sleeved shirt, paired with blue jeans. His look was completed with black cowboy boots and a tan cowboy hat resting atop his head.

"So, was the hurt horse your idea?" you inquired.

"Yes, Ma'am," he responded with a nod, then extended his hand towards you after sliding back slightly on the saddle.

You let out a sigh, torn between the need to prepare your notes for this weekends presentation and acknowledging Jake's effort to reach out. Deciding to give this moment a chance, you stepped closer and placed your hand in his. With careful movements, you positioned your foot into the stirrup and hoisted yourself up into the saddle, settling in front of Jake.

With a gentle noise from Jake, the horse began to amble forward.

"Where are we headed?" you inquired, curious about his intentions.

"It's a surprise," he responded, his voice carrying the thick Texas accent that always seemed to deepen when he returned home.

You leaned back, finding comfort in the warmth of his chest as the horse meandered slowly through the open field.

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gatheringbones · 1 year

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[“I began to read deeply, pulling on the threads, getting more and more furious at a system that allowed people to leverage money directly into influence and power—to basically manipulate the population into making a decision. The more I read, the more radical I became. I found Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States. I wanted more. I burrowed deeply into queer history, into protest. (I hid the books in my locker.) I read Stonewall: The Riots That Sparked the Gay Revolution, by David Carter; articles about Sylvia Rivera, Marsha P. Johnson; websites on the Compton’s Cafeteria uprising; Transgender History, by Susan Stryker. I watched The Times of Harvey Milk, Rob Epstein’s documentary about the life of the assassinated San Francisco supervisor, and the subsequent White Night uprisings following the acquittal of his confessed assassin. I learned the mantra “Queers, don’t be quiet, Stonewall was a riot.” There was all this history that no one had ever taught me, that didn’t fit neatly into the liberal-establishment version of gay rights.

Meanwhile, the financial crisis deepened. It gripped everyone I knew. I watched my family’s retirement accounts evaporate. The small mutual fund where I had deposited my twenty-thousand-dollar enlistment bonus—my literal investment in the system—plummeted in value. I was looking for explanations.

On a rainy afternoon, days after the election, I took a Trailways bus to Syracuse for my first-ever protest. (It’s legal for soldiers to attend protests out of uniform.) Join the Impact had planned events in four hundred cities that day, with an estimated million people in worldwide attendance. I’d read about the protest on Facebook and reached out to the local organizers—a lesbian student and an older gay man—to see what I could do to help. Even with the nasty weather, nearly two hundred people showed up at city hall—mostly younger queers, but a few older couples too. We had rainbow flags and posters that read no h8 and married with pride. I carried a sign that said, in rainbow lettering, equality @ the house, @ the workplace, @ the battlefield. Seeing other people feeling just as hurt as I did restored my sense of being recognized as fully human. But as I counted the crowd, I suddenly thought of the insurgency and counterinsurgency tactics I spent all day studying. Peaceful protest got the Iraqis nowhere. Our soldiers would more or less laugh at the Iraqis who tried civil disobedience. The people with the signs could just be mowed down; they were docile. It was the people who fought back, who refused to move, who even pushed the crowd out of the way as a way of taking a stand and showing political agency—those were the ones who concerned the military. As one major (who worked in operations, not intelligence) had succinctly explained at the base: “We don’t negotiate with protesters—but we sure as hell negotiate with mobs.”]

chelsea manning, from readme.txt

#chelsea manning #trans literature #currently reading

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padfootdaredmetoo · 2 years

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Hey 👋 I’m not too sure if your doing requests( if not completely ignore this it’s fine:)) but I was requesting a peaky blinders one-shot where reader is like an orphan and lives in an orphanage and tommy the philanthropist he is goes down to the orphanage with Polly,John,Arthur,and Ada and whoever else you want and they see reader going at it with on of the sisters. You could choose the conflict or their argument but yeah, if you could draw the reader as someone who’s quick and sarcastic with their words like a speak before thinking type of person you know. Also can this be like a tommy Shelby x daughter!reader kinda like a found family kind of trope. Sweet kisses love your stories❤️

Dear Anon,

I hope this does it justice!! I changed a few things because I felt like it fit the story better (I hope that's alright) but there is lots of family stuff. And lots of Lizzie and Tommy - not something I have ever written before so hopefully that's also alright. Sweet kisses back to you love, thank you for this wonderful idea!!!

Warnings: peaky type stuff, religious language? Implied that a priest was going to assault the reader, bad words, not descriptive death of parents, mentioned death of a baby, grief, so much sweetness and hurt comfort and hopefully laughs. I promise it's not as dark or sad as it sounds. Also some Grace bashing / group hate.

Word count: 6606 - may have gotten carried away...

Part 2

Tommy watched Lizzie closely as they approached the large building. According to his sources it housed around a hundred and fifty children, the building was large but it didn't seem that large.

It was gray and rainy, much like every day. The dark dampness didn’t bother him as it had seeped into his bones and made a home long ago. At this point, he was convinced that the sunlight would simply cause him to turn to ashes if it ever reached his skin.

Lizzie looked nervous but that was expected, he felt beyond nervous. Suddenly hoping she would change her mind altogether. Children were overrated, he would know having raised Finn and half of John's kids. But after her she lost the baby, he would do anything to bring some happiness to her. He knew he wasn't the best husband, but he was trying to do better every day.

Walking up the steps a voice in his mind started to remind him that he would only be bringing this baby into a world of danger and horror. Only going to ruin them so no God would allow them refuge. He pushed them down as best he could, reaching out to hold Lizzie’s hand. She looked taken back at the gesture, another thing wrong with them. Wrong with the situation.

They were escorted in to look at the babies. They were just as expected, plump, cute, and small. Tommy tried not to look at them too close, no point in getting attached. Lizzie would pick a baby, and he would attempt to be a good father.

He hated that he knew what it felt like to reach out for parents that were not there to hold you. He was sulking when a commotion caught his attention.

“For Fucks sakes woman! ” A girl shouted.

“You listen here. Father Stryker is a noble member of this community and organization. You will do what he asks of you.” A woman responded in a cold tone.

“We both know that’s not what God would want you old bat.” The girl snapped back and he held back a smile.

“Now you listen here, we do not know what God wants, that’s not our place. He has a way -”

“No, he sure as hell doesn't. God would NEVER.” The girl demanded. “I thought God was in all of us, and GOD doesn't want me to be alone with him. In fact, I would say he’s overcome with passion about the issue. It would be a sin for me to ignore his protests.”

“I will not tolerate such language, you foul girl!” The sound of a slap was dealt out. Tommy felt an odd feeling of unease about the situation.

“You let this happen! You. And you will BURN FOR IT. Mark my words, you will suffer an eternity for his sins. There are no amount of crosses under the sun for Jesus to croak on that would make up for your grotesque choices you evil witch.” The girl's voice was pure venom, and Tommy was overcome with an urge to protect the girl. What type of place were they running here?

“I want her,” Lizzie said clearly standing next to him looking at the Sister that was showing them around.

“Sorry Mrs. Shelby ?” She asked looking for clarification.

“The girl in the hall.” He looked at Lizzie landing her eyes on a girl that must have been about 15 standing off with the nun in the hallway. Her face was beet red, making her blue eyes seem extraordinarily bright in contrast, her fists clenched ready for a fight of any size. That girl did not care what happened, she wasn't going to back down.

“Ah, are you sure? She’s quite temperamental.” She responded looking embarrassed.

“Excellent, I’ve never seen anyone look so much like my husband,” Lizzie said with a smirk on her face.

“We’ll take her. And I’d like a word with management.” He asserted firmly. This was not the sort of thing he could look the other way on, plus it would only further the family image. Win-win.

______________________________

Another sister came into the hallway.

“Sister Margret, she has been requested by a family.” She said quickly.

You were positive this must be some type of trap. But a tall angular woman moved into the hallway. She looked like someone from a painting, impossibly pretty, elegant, clothes worth a small fortune. This was impossible.

The sister grabbed your arm and pulled you away from that bitch. Far away from the classroom you were terrified of.

The lady looked you up and down and removed the sister's hand from your arm. She shot her a warning look and the sister apologized. Whoever this woman was, she meant business.

“I’m Lizzie, Lizzie Shelby.” She said in a voice that belonged on a stage. You introduced yourself feeling embarrassed.

“We’d like to take you home if you're alright with that.” She asked holding her arm out. Normally you didn’t like being touched for any reason, but being escorted out of the place was a good enough reason for you to make an exception.

You looped your arm in hers and she strode out of the place with her head held high.

“The Paperwork -” The sister called out

“Get my husband to deal with it.” She called back, her voice dripping with power. You accompanied her into a very expensive car. You sat in the back seat beside her and watched her take in your appearance as if it had changed being in the natural light.

“Do you read?” She asked you lighting a cigarette.

“I had a tutor before my parents died.”

“How did they pass?”

“Car accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“We’ll expect you to go to school.”

“You’d be a shit parent if you didn't.” You mentally kicked yourself. “Sorry I -didn't” You were stumbling over an apology as the door opened and a man got into the driver's seat.

“That’s my husband. Thomas.”

“Hello,” You said feeling completely deflated. “It’s nice to meet you, both of you, It’s nice.” You couldn't remember a time being so embarrassed. You wished that they would just run you over with their expensive tires. There were just too many emotions in such a short period.

An hour ago a priest was forcing himself on you, telling you God would never allow you to get adopted, and here you were making a fool out of yourself with your new parents.

That phrase stung so bad you visually imagined pushing it from your mind.

“Did you sort the paperwork?” Lizzie asked in a frosty tone that made you wonder what their relationship problems were like.

“That and a few other things.” He responded in a tone you assumed only ghosts were capable of.

“Like what?” She said looking out the window with resentment.

“Taking the place over.” He responded easily. As if it was no big deal, like spending money on petrol for the car.

“What do you mean?” This caught her off guard and you watched a bit of hopefulness come to life in her eyes.

“Saw things.” He hesitated, obviously aware of your presence in the car. “That I didn’t think God would approve of.” You caught a slight smirk on his face in the mirror. His eyes told you it was easier to poke fun at the situation.

Lizzie hummed in approval, and even though you’d only known them a few minutes it felt like progress.

_______

They wanted to give you a few days to settle in before introducing you to the whole family. Something you saw as a bit of a red flag. The house was massive, but it was clean and quiet. Both a blessing and a curse. You were too shy to ask for something to do or go explore. Your bedroom was unbelievably beautiful, and warm.

There was a knock on the door that caused you to jump.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” Lizzie’s voice rang through the door.

“Of course” You responded stiffly. She came in and smiled at you, she pointed to your bed but you didn't understand what she was looking at. Should you not have been laying on it during the day?

“Is it alright if I sit?” She asked you and you realized that’s what she meant.

“Yes!” You sat up straight feeling like an idiot once again. You’d had to sit through two dinners each equally painful due to your rambling.

“How are you settling in?” She asked kindly.

“Um, fine. It’s nice. I love my room.”

“What do you get up to in here?” She looked around with a frown.

“Mostly sitting and thinking.” You responded blandly.

“Are you sure I can’t take you shopping for anything?” She’d asked at least three times, and you felt horrible imposing on them further.

“I don't want to bother you.” You finally broke. She let out a strange laugh.

“Bother me. All the time. Big stuff little stuff, doesn't matter.” She picked a piece of lint off of your bedspread. “Plus kids cost money you know. That’s no one's fault, so don’t carry it like a burden.”

Your eyes stung with tears. That was not the narrative you had grown up with parents or none. You’d always been acutely aware of the burden your existence placed on people. Her words made you feel like you were special, not something your parents could give you. This brought on a very large mix of feelings.

“Don’t cry, really all this is-” Her face appeared displeased with your reaction and it only made your hurt more.

“Normal. Not for me, it’s not. If you wanted a kid that was used to this you should have had one yourself.” the words flew out of your mouth and she was up and out of the room before you could try to apologize. You felt so much worse, you wanted to pull out all your hair trying to make it stop.

You stopped trying to hold the tears back and got up off your bed to apologize. An embarrassing apology was better than them shipping you back.

You followed the sound of her soft crying sounds. Through a door that was slightly ajar. It was a beautiful nursery. They had tried to have their little spoilt children, the guilt only became worse.

You locked eyes with her and decided the truth was always best.

“You treat me better than my parents. But they're dead and it hurts. I don't want to bother you both, it's already some kind of miracle that I got adopted at this age, I don't want to push my luck. Or live through you getting bored of me and then tossing me aside.”

For a moment you thought she was going to shout at you. But she just nodded in understanding. You both were crying, so why not try to risk a hug. You got down on the sheep skin rug next to her and hugged her.

Her grief wrapped around you with her slender arms. She pushed your face against her chest and kissed the top of your head. You didn't understand, but the hurt in her felt a lot like the hurt inside of you. So you leaned into the feeling crying just as hard.

“I lost her. She was born and - nothing anyone could do about it.” She said after a long while. The thought made your heart break all over again. “They told me I couldn't have kids. Spent years avoiding it like it was the plague and now, God it hurts.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry for you too. My dad left before I was born, mother passed when I was 13. Prostitute till I was twenty.” She let out a sad laugh. “This life.” She motioned to the house with her arm. “Is not the life I came from and my husband doesn't have much. But he has money, so don’t ever feel bad for spending it.” You looked up at her in shock. There was no way she was telling the truth. She looked like she belonged in a palace like you wanted to trust her with the whole world. So elegant, kind eyes.

“We’re the same then” you whispered.

“Absolutely not! If you become a prostitute I will have officially become the worst mother in history.” She said causing you both to laugh.

“I’m not good with people.” You joked along. Tommy pushed the door open and you stiffened slightly. No matter how you tried to calm down, he made you uneasy. Like he would be impossible to please or get to know.

“It’s not a whore house?” He said with a confused look having caught the end of the conversation. You’d never seen a man look more confused as the both of you were tear-soaked holding each other on the floor.

“Not anymore it's not.” Lizzie quipped causing him to almost smile. You wondered what made him so stuck up.

“Good lord, how did you guys make all this money again?” You asked cheekily, causing Lizzie to laugh.

“Just you wait.” She said lightly, but you couldn't help but know already that it was not God’s work that placed them here.

“Come down for lunch?” he asked you both, still slightly put off by the situation.

“Yes” she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, you watched her walls of composure surround her once again.

“Come on. Let’s see how much trouble we can get in before supper.” She said helping you up.

_____________________________

You stopped by to pick up people on the way to the shops.

“We’ll get Esme first. She’s John’s wife. Tommy’s younger brother - he made a deal with the Lee family - a bunch of gypsies - Tommy needed men, and she needed a husband. Technically I almost married John. It was a complicated time. But they both get along like a house on fire. She holds him down pretty good, probably the only reason he’s still alive.” You listened as she drove you through the countryside. “Then we’ll get Polly. She’s Tommy’s Aunt. She probably goes up against him the most. She’s some kind of Gypsy royalty, a very peculiar woman, but she means well. Hated Tommy’s first wife Grace. Well, we all hated Grace. Us women tend to stick together. We have to put up a good front against the boys or they raise hell like nothing else.”

“You’re all gangsters then?” You asked her catching her slightly off guard.

“Technically he’s a gangster turned politician. But trust me having been on the receiving end of both there really isn't a difference.”

You blushed at her words and tried to hold your tongue.

“I shouldn't have said that last part.” She flicked her cigarette case open and lit one up. “Forget I said that.” but you started laughing. You pulled up to a country-style house, chickens squawking loudly at the car engine.

“Oi! That is not a baby!” A woman with wild curly hair approached the car. She slid into the backseat and you felt awkward sitting in the front. You looked at her looking you over. “Total babe, but not a baby.” She said with wide eyes in disbelief.

“She’s fifteen,” Lizzie responded looking at you like you were a brand new car.

“Good lord. Going to have to beat the boys off of her. She’s pretty like you.”

You blushed heavily at her words unsure of what to do with the attention.

“Eh, as long as we keep her close I think we’ll manage just fine.” Lizzie smiled and turned the car around.

“I’m Esme, I’m sure Lizzie caught you up to speed.” She lit a cigarette and smiled at you as you introduced yourself. She asked you lots of questions, about how you liked the place.

“It’s cold. You can say it, love.” Esme blurted out. “It’s a monument to Grace. Should have been burnt down the second she left us.” You could tell this was a part of the stormy ocean of problems that rested between your adopted parents. You put that piece of knowledge into your back pocket. You pulled up to a stylish-looking complex and a woman in a black suit and sunglasses approached the car.

“I was going to offer to babysit for you when you need a rest - but by the looks of it I’ll be asking you for help, love.”

“How many kids do you have?” You asked while you waited.

“Too fuckin’ many,” Polly responded climbing into the back seat. “I thought you asked Tommy for a baby, not a miniature replica of yourself?”

“Come off it Pol,” Lizzie said starting the car.

“I’m serious, I thought I was seein’ a bloody ghost. I’ve known you since you were the size of a potato, when I say she looks just like ya, I fuckin’ mean it.”

You looked at Lizzie and wished you looked even a fraction of how beautiful she was.

“How's he managing with this then? He was always good with the kids when they were little but I can’t imagine he’d know what to do with her.” Polly said stealing Esme’s cigarette.

“Eh, like everything else, he’s adjusting.” Everyone seemed to find this funny.

“You look at me, that boy gives you any trouble you call me alright. I’ll set him straight.” She was strong like Thomas but soft like Lizzie, and something distinctly her own. You could tell she was in charge.

“Thank you.” You said sheepishly unsure of what else to say.

“You're welcome, love,” She said kindly.

Shopping was a lot. You cried on the way home and they had a unique way of comforting you while also making fun of you, making you laugh. Once you started laughing with them it seemed impossible to stop. You assumed that you would all pile into the sitting room, but instead, you piled into the kitchen, which quickly became your favorite space in the house. A large wooden table surrounded by something that felt so perfectly warm. Grace clearly didn’t touch this space much.

They poured you cranberry juice and set into a bottle of whiskey. The jokes got worse as the night progressed and for once your sharp tongue and misplaced comments brought a great deal of joy.

“Where did you find this girl!” Esme said between laughs

“Fighting off a Nun in a hallway,” Lizzie replied still laughing from the joke before. Tommy and you assumed his brothers appeared in the doorway.

“Wow, Looks like you Lizzie, but with Tom’s eyes” John said, or you thought it was him because he went to stand behind Esme and she looked up at him in a way you hadn't seen before.

“And his mouth.” Esme quipped and you hoped it was a compliment. He reached across the table to shake your hand.

“John”

“It’s nice to meet you” You introduced your self. Arthur came and gave you a crushing hug.

“They got you out numbered now brother.” He joked letting you go to pour himself a glass of whiskey.

Tommy gave you a tense look, like he was worried about something. He took the seat next to you puting space between you and the boys.

“Might be enough women to put some life back into this place.” Polly said with twinkling eyes.

“I’ll try my best.” You responded quickly seeing that Tommy didn’t seem happy.

He stuck close to your side, sliding glasses of Whiskey away from you as the boys started drinking. His youngest brother was only a few years older than you, and he showed up with a bunch more men that introduced themselves politely before joining into the savagery.

You scooted your self along the bench to sit closer to Tommy not knowing the others well enough to want to sit as close.

“Thank you, Lord, for blessing us with such a wonderful girl! May she shine bright for us in these dark times. To the newest Shelby!” Arthur’s voice boomed and your face turned bright red. Everyone finished a drink, but you caught Lizzie and Tommy sharing a look.

Tommy put his arm around and you were grateful to have something to lean into with all the commotion. They were the loudest and rudest, most funny group of people you’d ever seen.

“Think it’s time for bed, eh?” He asked you quietly and you nodded.

“Alright! Clear out you lot. She’s got to get to bed. We can have a proper dinner tomorrow night!” Tommy called out causing a few groans.

“But we just got here!” Finn mumbled.

Everyone said their goodbyes and goodnights to you moving out of the kitchen. Polly placed a kiss to your forehead. She said something in a different language, to which Tommy responded with a sharp nodd.

Once everyone had piled out the front door, they took you up to your room. You hit the bed feeling more tired than you could ever remember.

_________________________________________

You slowly became more at ease around Tommy. Sitting alone at the table didn’t frighten you nearly as much. You heard him shout at people occasionally and that made you determined to keep your distance.

It wasn't until Lizzie stayed away for a night getting stuck at Esme’s due to a storm. You assured her that you ate dinner and that everything was fine. In reality, you'd been sitting by the front window praying for her to come back. You hated storms and you’d just trusted that she’d be there and know what to do about it.

Eventually you decided to retreat to your room to avoid any conflict.

“Goodnight.” You poked your head into his study.

“Night, love.” He responded kindly looking up from his papers. You thought about bothering him for a moment, telling him that you were scared. You decided to slip up to your bedroom instead. Girls your age didn't get scared of these types of things.

Without Lizzie, there was an impending sense of doom about the place. Like there was pressure pushing down on you. Listening to things creak and shift, you had an idea that maybe without Lizzie here Grace’s ghost would try to snatch you up.

Laying there listening to the storm and the house, your mind cooked up a story of revenge. Grace would kill you to get back at Lizzie for stealing her mourning husband. Maybe that’s why Lizzie’s baby wasn't born right. Your heart started to race as your stomach twisted.

There must have been some deeper story, Lizzie always seemed like she was very hurt by Grace, despite having come into Tommy’s life after. But Polly’s known Lizzie since she was a baby….

Questions were swirling in your mind non stop trying to make sense of it all. Your door made a horrid sscreeching sound and you let out a scream in response, pulling the blankets up above your head.

“LEAVE ME ALONE GRACE.” You shouted hoping that it was enough that you could see it was her this whole time. She’d be deterred by your cleverness and the quilt Polly had made you.

The quilt was tugged away from your face and you balled your fists ready to fight her off. However you looked up at Tommy’s horrified face instead.

“I don’t do well with storms” You blurted out hoping that would make it better. You both looked at eachother for a moment.

“Let’s make some tea.” He said firmly. You knew that you’d fucked up and the last thing you wanted to do was have tea over the situation. You got up and he pulled your quilt around you, keeping his hand on your shoulder as you moved down the stair case.

You watched him light a fire in the kitchen and grab two glasses and fill them with whiskey.

He passed one to you and sat across from you, he took off his glasses and placed them on the table.

“Why do you think my first wife is out to get you?” He cut right to the chase.

“I got scared of the storm, and Lizzie is trapped, Grace- it’d be the perfect opportunity to get revenge on Lizzie for stealing her mourning husband.” You rushed the words out wishing you were dead. Tommy actually chuckled.

“That’s the story you’d been told then?”

“No, just the one that made sense.”

“How so?” He took a sip of whiskey.

“Everyone says this place is some kind of shrine for her, Lizzie hates it. Hates her, why exactly, I’m not sure but I know it’s because she’s hurt.”

“Lizzie is hurt by Grace?” He asked with a wrinkled brow, you didn't think he was capable of such emotions.

“That’s obvious.” You said sadly. He made a humming noise.

“I didn’t intend to marry Lizzie. She got pregnant and I married her.” He answered easily, suddenly you were very angry at him. Happy he did right by her and married her but -

“Doesn’t mean she hasn’t always loved you.” You argued.

“Is that so?”

“Obviously. Have you ever looked at her? This place, the family, everything, me. Obviously.” You were dumbfounded. How on earth could someone so smart and sharp be so daft. “She puts up with a lot of shit around here. Not once has she ever mentioned leaving or hating you.”

“Perhaps I should talk to her about it.”

“You’d better. Everywhere we go men look at her.” You said trying to scare him into doing the right thing.

“I’m sure they do, she’s a pretty woman.” He answered tensly. Suddenly you started to worry that maybe he wont ever love her, and if that was the case he would certainly never learn to love you. Panic started to wash over you.

“Do you want to watch the storm then?”

“How?” You answered even more uneasy. He got up and you followed him through to the dark sitting room. He pulled the curtains open adding the slitghtest bit of light to the room. You helped him turn the couch around to face the big window.

You watched him pour more wiskey and sit down motioning for you to do the same. Wrapped in Polly’s quilt you sat next to him and he put his arm around your shoulders.

“The only way to stop being scared is to face the thing that scares you.” He explained easily. He held you close to his side as you watched the dark figures of trees swaying violently. The lightening causing you to jump. Eventually things calmed down but you found yourself wishing that it would continue on so you could spend more time sitting like this. He just sat with you tucked into his side sipping his whiskey.

“ I do care for you and Lizzie. More than anything.” He kissed the top of your head. “Things in the past weren't always easy or safe. Keeping her at arm's length seemed like the best way to keep her from ending up like Grace.”

You listened to his voice in the dark, feelingthe pain in his words.

“However, I would hate for her to leave me for a man at the shops.” He said lightly and you snorted.

“Sorry for overstepping - I didn’t mean that she looked back at them”

“S’alright.” He answered easily. Suddenly you saw headlights coming up the drive. You felt his body tense. “Hide behind the desk,” he said seriously. He grabbed a gun hidden in the paneling on the wall. You could hear the door open and to your relief, you heard Lizzie’s voice.

“Fuck sake, Thomas! A gun! Scared the bloody life out of me!” She started to scold him but suddenly she stopped. “Are you alright? Where is she?! I knew something was wrong! Where-” her voice was muffled and you assumed it was because he was holding her.

“She’s fine, in the sitting room” He answered calmly.

“The sitting room at this hour!”

You got up and moved back to the couch hoping that they might sit with you a while longer before going up to bed.

“Why is the couch the wrong way?” She asked sitting down pulling you against her. “Miss me enough to sit up at the window like a couple of dogs.”

“Something like that.” You said enjoying the way she held you tightly. Tommy came to sit down on the other side of you. His arm came across your shoulders pulling Lizzie towards you slightly.

“Did you give her whiskey? She smells like distillery.”

“One glass to calm her nerves, won’t hurt her any.” You felt him reach over you to kiss the top of her head.

“Alright. But don’t you go turning into your father.” She said sternly causing you to laugh.

You sat for a while with the them till eventually the gray sky started to brighten with the sun of the next day.

“Let’s get to bed. We can all get in a nap before the day starts.” Tommy said. Lizzie followed you through to your room to help you into bed and make sure you were okay. After you were settled you heard them talking down the hall and hoped that he was ready to face his fears.

The next day you all had breakfast around noon in the kitchen. Lizzie and Tommy seemed in better spirits, might have had something to do with the marks on her neck, but you hoped he’d talked to her about the situation.

After that night things were noticeably different. You went to school and tried to get along with the other kids, your marks were not great, leading to long nights in the kitchen studying extra with various family members. Esme was the best person to sit with, having learned maths and reading from her mother. She knew how to encourage you without stressing you out.

Tommy on the other hand would look over the material and already look stressed. He always tried to keep his temper in check, but it was unbearable feeling him be frustrated with you. Eventually he caught on that you did worse with him there because of the added pressure, he learned to just sit next to you and work on his problems and offer you help when you needed it.

It took a lot of struggling but eventually you were caught up and getting good marks.

Things were going well till some old business needed to be handled. Tommy was to go away for two weeks, something that seemed to crush Lizzie.

To her surprise he called her everynight. You’d watch her sitting on kitchen counter talking and occasionally laughing. Then he’d talk to you about school and the weather, telling you that he missed you. That was when you realised that something must be very wrong. He was clearly in a great deal of danger where ever he was. Polly came to stay at the house with Arthur, you enjoyed having them around but it only confirmed your suspicion. Everyone seemd it was best to keep you in the dark on the whole thing.

When he came back he was very different. Somebody, or some people, were most certainly dead. A great relief fell over the family and something was different about him. He had a smile on his face when she rushed to the door to greet him. You watched how they held eachother and thought back to when you’d first met them. Things were very different. You eventually butted into the hug feeling left out.

______________

Extra Blurb.

Eventually the unthinkable happened. The boy you had your eye on at school asked you out. Not knowing what to do or what the rules are you decided to get some more information on him make sure he was worth the risk of asking.

Finn laughed at you.

“Not from the best family. But not a rival either, Tommy’s sure to have a fit, and Lizzie, I’m not sure. All in all, I don't mind the guy, you might be better off not telling them.” He said looking out the stained glass window of the Garrison. “If he gives you a hard time, come see me yeah? Don’t let him take you out of Small Heath” He looked at you seriously.

“Sure thing.�� You said getting up. You shouted a thank you over your shoulder rushing out of the pub.

You thought long and hard about the situation. He made you laugh, didnt seem to care to much about your last name or who your dad was. Didn’t care that you were adopted. He was very polite, but enjoyed your peculiar sense of humor and misplaced words.

You thought about turning him down. It was too complicated and anything that would upset your parents was too much of a burden. Thinking of what you would say to him, your heart gave a painful wrench.

You went downstairs towards Tommy’s study. God this boy better be worth it or you’d put him in the ground.

You poked your head in to see him writing and Lizzie sitting on the sofa reading a magazine.

“Erm - So.” You started and watched them both look up at you.

“What are you wearing?” Lizzie said smiling at your dress.

“Go upstairs and change” Tommy cut you off before you could respond.

“Theres a boy -” You watched his face fall into his hands. “And he’s picking me up in a half hour if that’s allowed.” You fumbled with your words, wanting them to say yes badly.

“What boy” They said at the same time, giving eachother a glare.

“Noah Solomons. I met him at school.” you responded expecting an explosion.

“No. absolutley not. No way on earth am I sending you anywhere with him.”

“Finn said he’s alright.” You started by stopped once he let out a sigh.

“Finn! Fucking bastard.” He pinnched the bridge of his nose.

“Where is he taking you then?” Lizzie asked

“Just around Small Heath for dinner. I told him that I can’t be out late.” Your face got red and you looked out the window.

“Put on a longer dress. The purple one, and put your hair up -”

“Tommy! Don’t make her wear the purple one” Lizzie started to argue but stopped once she saw the look on his face. Her eyes narrowed back at him.

“How bout I wear the red one -”

“The black one is fine” They both answered suddently.

“Just put on a cardigan,” Lizzie said getting up. “I have a nice one upstairs.” You followed her up to her bedroom. She pulled out a nice cardigan and some less opaque stockings. After you’d changed you looked yourself over, more modest, but that wasn't a bad thing. Especially if it got Tommy’s blood pressure back down. Lizzie got your hair up and you were grateful for her help.

“Do you think dad will let me go?” You asked as she fixed your make up.

“Dont think he can stop you. But, we’ve done business with his father. I think he’s worried this is apart of some elaborate plan.”

“I don’t think so, but I’ll keep an eye on him” You were even more nervous now. Lizzie gave you lots of advice and you felt bad making her this worried. When you walked down stairs you could see Tommy talking to Noah at the door.

You loved the way his face lit up when his eyes landed on you, he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. You watched the front door swing shut, keeping him on the other side.

“No.” He said firmly looking at Lizzie.

“Going to have to let her find her own way sometimes.”

“No I don’t. Not with boys, not dressed like that.” He responded angrily.

“Look, I told Finn where we are going, he said him and Isaiah would be around to keep an eye out. I’ve known him for the past two school years. I - please” You looked up at him in what you hoped were puppy dog eyes. You saw the conflict rage in his eyes.

“Fine.” He sighed in defeat. “But you don’t like something, anything, you call me from the restaurant and -” You cut him off with a big hug.

“I won’t be out too late. Love ya” You said flying out the door before he could change his mind.

He kissed you on the cheek on the door step, promising to take you out again next weekend. After saying goodnight you watched as he drove down the drive way before opening the front door.

You were surprised at how quiet it was. You slipped your shoes off and followed the lamp light into the sitting room. Much like the day with the storm, they sat on the sofa turned around to face the large window. You moved towards them to see your dad looking beyond relieved, and mum asleep on his lap.

“So how was it then?” He asked you handing you the last bit of whiskey in his glass. You sat down next to him, watching him look you over for anything out of place.

“Felt a bit like the Queen to be honest. More Blinders than people in that restaurant. Not to mention people watching from their windows.” You gave him a look as he started out the window. “But he was nice. I -He is nice, I enjoyed myself”

“Just for food then straight back?”

“You already know that’s what happened. Can you help me get the pins out of my hair?” You turned away from him and felt him struggle to find them, pulling slightly too hard.

“What? No, this is my job hands off.” Lizzie said groggily. “What did I miss? Tell me everything.” You felt the two of them shift and Lizzie's expert hands start bringing your hair down. By the time she’d gotten it brushed Polly and Esme had showed up for a full debrief in the kitchen.

You were giggling like mad for hours with them, hearing their stories about past lovers. Some sweet, other cautionary. Eventually it was time for bed and you stopped into Tommy’s office before going to wash up.

“Dad.” He gave you a shocked look then you realised what you had said. You didnt feel like apologizing though, too tired to make a big deal of it. You leaned over and gave him a hug. “Thanks for letting me go tonight.” You felt his arms wrap around you tightly.

“I don't like it, and there will be lots to talk about tomorrow. But I'm happy that you're happy.” You kissed his cheek then headed up to bed. You knew that he’d probably already called Noah’s father, a tense conversation awaited you, but you had no doubt it was because he loved you.

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