#Gail Davis

[poppingmary]

Gail Davis

[kwebtv]

From the Golden Age of Television

Series Premiere

Annie Oakley - Annie and the Brass Collar - Syndicated - January 9, 1954

Western

Running Time: 30 minutes

Written by Robert Schefer and Eric Freiwald

Produced by Colbert Clark

Directed by William Berke

Stars:

Gail Davis as Annie Oakley

Brad Johnson as Lofty Craig

Jimmy Hawkins as Tagg Oakley

Robert Emmet O'Connor  as Dan Heywood

Britt Lomond as Martin Ellison (as Glase Lohman)

Roy Barcroft as Gang Leader

Paul E. Burns as Telegrapher

Chris Alcaide as Paul Dodson

Bob Woodward as Henchman

Dick Tufeld

[fashioninpaper]

“Annie Oakley” ran for 81 episodes between January 9, 1954 & February 24, 1957. It starred Gail Davis as Annie Oakley, Jimmy Hawkins as Annie's little brother, Tagg, and with Brad Johnson as Deputy Sheriff Lofty Craig.

[perfettamentechic]

15 marzo … ricordiamo …

15 marzo … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2023: Marisa Traversi, all’anagrafe Marialuisa Traversi, attrice italiana. Milanese di nascita, si trasferì con la famiglia a Roma subito dopo la seconda guerra mondiale. Dapprima cantante nei night romani e reginetta di vari concorsi di bellezza,  ottenne una parte nel 1957 nel film Parola di ladro (1957) e fu l’inizio di una carriera cinematografica e televisiva. Nell’estate del 1972 ebbe un…

[shadowland]

Embellished with rhinestones, leather fringe, and appliquéd leather horse heads, this sequined vest from Nudie’s Rodeo Tailors has been worn onstage by Emmylou Harris, Linda Ronstadt, and Rosie Flores. The vest was designed for actress Gail Davis, star of the popular 1950s TV Western series Annie Oakley, but she never picked it up from Nudie’s North Hollywood shop, where Harris purchased it in the early 1970s. Harris later gave it to Flores. {x} This pink dress was purchased from the Nudie’s shop in North Hollywood in the early 1970s and worn as she performed with Gram Parsons and went on to be a solo artist after his death. “It had belonged to an actress named Gail Davis, a cowboy actress who was in Western movies with Gene Autry and had starred as Annie Oakley. She had it made and then never picked it up, so Nudie’s still had it, and Emmylou came across it and bought it from him.” {x}

The Nudie Suits of the Flying Burrito Brothers

[citizenscreen]

Movie stars for #NationalGoFishingDay

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue September 1985

Gail Elliott wears a slim-fit, collarless, lapel-less wool tweed jacket over a short, straight skirt in gray worsted wool. By Blassport. Earrings, Mark Davis, red scarves, design by Jeanne Delahaye, chocolate wool tights, Hanes, strappy pumps, Yves Saint Laurent. Hair by Oribe, NYC, makeup Linda Cantello.

Gail Elliott porte une veste en tweed de laine, à la coupe ajustée, sans col et sans revers, sur une jupe courte et droite en laine peignée grise. Par Blassport. Boucles d'oreille, Mark Davis, écharpes rouge, design par Jeanne Delahaye, collants en laine chocolat, Hanes, escarpins à brides, Yves Saint Laurent. Coiffure par Oribe, NYC, maquillage Linda Cantello.

Photo Paul Lange vogue archive

[pmg227]

Favorite Reads of March '24

“But it is not enough to read widely. One must also read well. One must read virtuously. The word virtue has various shades of meaning . . . but, in general, virtue can most simply be understood as excellence. Reading well is, in itself, an act of virtue, or excellence, and it is also a habit that cultivates more virtue in return.” Karen Swallow Prior in On Reading Well The Peach Seed Anita Gail…

[hottpinkpenguin]

Letting Someone Go - Part 1

Benny Cross X Reader A/n: saw Bikeriders yesterday, needless to say I have a new Austin Butler character to obsess over <3 no better soundtrack to Benny Cross breakin' hearts than Zach Bryan. *the poem in this is lyrics from his song 'Letting Someone Go' Word Count: 2253 Warnings: cursing, alcohol use, Benny breaking hearts, angst, unhappy ending

What you had done to deserve Benny was beyond you. After all, you’d always tried to be a good person. Tried to do the right thing, to treat other people well. So who had you wronged so mightily as to deserve the torture that was Benny Cross?

“Hey. Hey! I’m talkin’ here!”

Sheila snapped at you, wrenching you out of your own miserable head. You dragged your gaze off of Benny, playing pool in the corner, and back to your friend. 

“Sorry, Sheils,” you mumbled. She rolled her eyes at you as you took a deep gulp from your Budweiser. 

“You’re still draggin’ ass about that man, aren’t ya?” She nodded unabashedly towards Benny, raising an eyebrow at you in question. You wanted to sink into the dirty floorboards beneath you, just get swept away in the sewer pipes or water table or whatever the fuck was below this personal hell you’d found yourself in. 

You shrugged, gulping down more beer in the hopes that it might dull the ache in your chest. 

“He ain’t worth it, hunnie.” 

You fixed Sheila with a hard stare. She shook off your glare, lighting her cigarette and blowing a plume of smoke up into the rafters. 

“I’m just sayin’, there’s plenty of guys ‘round here for you to shack up with. Benny’s just a loose cannon is all, who cares if he’s off ya.” 

You drank until your beer was empty. Your head was beginning to swim, but unfortunately the booze wasn’t touching the sadness that had sent you to the bottle in the first place. You stood up from your chair, pushing back from the table with a loud and clumsy clatter. No one really noticed over the thumping bass of the jukebox or the din of the crowd. You walked over to the bar, trading in your two empty bottles for two fresh ones. Zipco eyed you curiously from his usual seat at the back corner of the bar, but you refused to acknowledge him. Last thing you needed was another friend trying to cajole you out of your heartbreak. 

By the time you came back to Sheila, Wahoo and Corky had plunked down on either side of her. Probably trying to get her into bed, you thought darkly. And they’d likely succeed, based on how she was batting her eyes up at them. Usually, you welcomed the company of the Vandals, but tonight you found you could hardly stand them. Not necessarily that you wanted to be alone, just left alone. Sitting by yourself and knocking back an obscene amount of beer as you stared daggers into the back of Benny’s head was all you were really game for tonight. 

Rather than join the others, you swerved and walked towards the back of the bar, past where Johnny was sitting with Brucie, Gail, and Cal. The light was broken back here, and the shadows suited your dark mood quite nicely. You settled into a chair, tucking your legs up underneath you as you cracked open one of the new bottles and gulped down another greedy mouthful. Finally by yourself for the moment, you let your mind run wild over the last few weeks.

Where had it gone wrong? What did she have that you didn’t? And why the hell did you care so much, while Benny clearly cared so little? 

After all, it’s not like you and Benny were anything. You’d been sleeping together for a couple months, sure; but that was just the lifestyle. You’d been raised up on the back of your daddy’s bike. He was a founding member of the Red Devils of Hamilton, Ontario; so that made you practically royalty in the MC world. You knew what it was to be a Vandal before they’d even existed as an idea in Johnny Davis’ head. Hell, you practically taught Johnny everything you knew about how to run a successful club. 

That was probably why Benny hurt so damn much, you realized. You’d never admit it out loud, but this whole thing was ass backwards. You were the one that was supposed to run around and break the biker boys’ hearts. You were the one that wasn’t supposed to get attached, the one who would cut bait and run at the first sign of feelings. You were definitely not the kind of girl who’d get hung up on some loser just because he rode a nice chopper. 

But instead, Benny Cross had gone and played you at your own game. When you’d come back to Chicago to check on Johnny Davis’ pet project, you hadn’t planned to stay more than a few days, maybe a week. You had your sights set on California, on a small rancher high up in the mountains outside Crescent City. 

But then you’d met Benny. Benny with those piercing blue eyes, that gentle pillow talky voice, and the most gorgeous set of lips you’d ever kissed. He’d had you panting after him like a puppy dog within three days. A few days had turned into a few weeks, which had stretched into a few months. Now, you were still here, looking to spend your second Christmas in the cold. And unlike the last one, this Christmas would be a lonely one.

You’d been tangled up in Benny for the better part of a year now. He still drove you just as wild as that first time you’d seen him. Even from this far away, you could hardly stand to look at him without squirming. 

The first eight or nine months had been good. Maybe not great, but damn good. You’d wanted it to be fucking terrific, Lord knows you wanted that more than anything. But something in Benny just wouldn’t thaw for you. He was exactly the type of man that every other hard biker tried to be. He didn’t care about much, except his club. Didn’t show feelings for the simple fact that he didn’t have many, at least not the deep kind that you were desperate for. He was a detached, unbothered person. At first, you’d mistaken that for easy-going. It certainly made getting to know him nice and easy. But after nine or ten months, the edges of your relationship had started to turn brittle. While you were lying awake at night, daydreaming about getting a house together and getting married and maybe a baby or two, Benny was out doing the same old shit. Drinking, fighting. Generally avoiding anything that required commitment or persistence. Just livin’ life in the breeze.

But things had really taken a turn when she showed up. You could remember the night so clearly. It had been late fall, maybe two months ago. She’d come in looking like a misfit, all prim and proper in her white jeans and pink sweater, with her hair done up like Jackie Kennedy and her perfect eyeliner. Way too shiny and sweet for this kind of crowd. The guys had, predictably, gobbled her up with their eyes. No one more so than Benny.

The moment was seared in your memory: she was looking at the door, Benny was looking at her, and you were looking at Benny. Next thing you knew, Benny was gone, racing after her into the November air. You’d watched from the foggy window as she’d climbed on the back of his bike and they’d rode off down the street, all the while the club was cheering like it was fucking homecoming or something. Never mind that you were literally gutted, your heart trampled and lying like a used up bag on the floor of the bar. 

Benny had come back the next night, all hang-dog and apologies. All “I’m sorry baby, that was wrong” and “I dunno what came over me” and “I promise, it was nothing”. Both of you knew those were all lies, but only one of you really wanted to believe them. You were clinging on tight to the fading dream that was Benjamin Cross, meanwhile he was racing headfirst into the future that was Kathy Bauer. 

She kept coming around after that. That’s how you really knew that you were going to lose him. If that pretty little minx had kept her distance, then maybe Benny would have really been able to close that door. But she couldn’t. And, as much as you hated her for it, you couldn’t blame her. She wasn’t blind. She saw the same things in Benny that you did, you could tell just from looking at her expression when he was around. She had stars in her eyes, same as you. 

At first, Benny had put on a pretty good show of sticking by you. Even though the two of you weren’t officially anything, there was a code in the club. Fellas stuck by their gals, and vice versa. And, just by virtue of how long you and Benny had been, well, how long you’d been you and Benny, you were owed some measure of loyalty. 

But after a week or two, Benny was straying. Kathy would come into the bar and Benny would get this tiny smile. He’d find excuses to sit near her. Then it turned into talking to her. Then it turned into talking with her alone. 

Then he’d finally said the words you’d been dreading. 

“Baby, we gotta talk.”

No no no no no, you were screaming inside as you calmly sat down at the kitchen table of the small apartment you'd set yourself up in. Your hands were shaking, so you’d played with the nearest coffee mug until you’d chipped your nails. 

“Listen, darlin’, I… well, I’m not too good at this sorta thing.”

One tear had slipped out. You’d practically smacked yourself in a hurry to get rid of it. You couldn’t stand how upset he had you. 

“Just say it, Benny.”

Benny had tried to grab your hands from across the table - for what purpose, you couldn’t imagine. But you’d pulled away from him, your eyes burning. 

“I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to find someone else, baby. I swear. I just… it just… happened.”

Too many tears to wipe away now. You were squeezing the coffee mug so tightly in your palms that it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.

“It’s Kathy, isn’t it?”

Benny hadn’t said anything, just nodded. 

“And you’re moving in with her, aren’t ya?” 

To add insult to injury, before Benny even had the guts to properly break things off with you, he’d adopted a bad habit of sleeping on the back of his bike in front of her house. At least, that was what Cal told you. After you’d practically threatened to cut his throat with your blade. Not that you were much of a threat, but Cal had a soft spot for you and you knew it. You weren’t afraid to press on the soft spots when needed. 

Another single nod from Benny. You couldn’t tell if he was looking at you or not.

“So… you’re done with me then, yea? Is that what you’re saying?”

Another. Fucking. Nod.

And so, that was the end of it. A fitting ending, all things considered. Benny, quiet as the grave, just nodding away the entire future you’d dreamt up for yourself at his side. 

Unable to figure out what to say or how to feel, you just shrugged and let the tears slip off your jaw and plunk down onto the plastic checkerboard tablecloth. 

“Aight then, Benny, you best get your stuff and get out, then.”

You wished you’d have added some harsher words at the end, leave a little sting on him, but you didn’t trust your voice not to crack. So it had been your turn to stay quiet while Benny packed up his things - a shockingly small amount, you realized, as it took him less than three minutes to shove them all into a pillowcase. 

The final dagger had been when he’d hesitated at the door, looking back over his shoulder at you. You were exactly where he’d left you: sitting at the kitchen table, crying, that coffee mug turning over and over in your shaking palms. He’d turned back and walked over to lay a soft, sweet kiss on your forehead. The most affection that man had ever shown you had been in the goodbye that he’d made you say for him. It was an irony that you didn’t think you’d ever get over. 

As you sat in that dark, lightless corner of the bar, watching Benny shoot pool with Big Jack and Cockroach, Kathy leaning against a high-top table a few feet away and beaming at him, you thought about some ridiculous poem you’d heard once. If someone had put a pistol to your head, you wouldn’t have been able to tell them where you heard it or who wrote it or even what the rest of the poem was about. Just one line came floating back to you out of the back of your mind:

One thing I’ve come to know, nothing kills you slower than letting someone go.

**Read part 2 here! **Let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

[superstarcherrycolagirl]

Hey girl xx I was wondering if you’re up for some johnny writing from the Bikeriders? If so that would be absolutely AMAZINGGG 💋💋 I feel like it would fit ur writing style so well!!

ahhh hi babes!! ty sm much for your request! it’s been such a long day but after two naps in glad i could finish for our and all other johnny girls:))

sent from above

johnny davis x fem!reader / 889 words

idea: one of johnny’s guys needs a help, and you’re there to show why you really are heavenly

tw: none just fluff on top of fluff

notes: yall today has been SO LONG woke up so early to go to a 4th of july parade and i’m FAMISHED!! but by listening to so much LDR have me the strength to write abt this sexy ass man:) so i hope yall enjoy

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

“s’what did ya’ wanna ask me?” it’s later in the afternoon, light peaking through the scratched up windows. you came to stop by after getting your nails done by gail, but inevitably got sleepy and have been resting your head on johnny’s shoulder for the past half hour. his leather jacket drenched over your cold body.

besides you and johnny, wahoo, corky, and cal were the only ones in the bar, but the meeting would be starting in a few hours. that’s when big jack had stumbled in the bar, you weren’t expecting to see him this early, but you of course didn’t mind.

so here you are, listening to what big jack wanted to ask johnny.

“well uh.. i was wondering if i could talk to you.. alone” he spoke lowly “s’just us big guy, we ain’t gonna snitch” wahoo said with a laugh. he’s right, this place is safe to ask for something, especially from johnny.

“um.. well” he was now looking at you sheepishly, as if he was embarrassed. shy. oh. johnny realized very quickly why he wanted to talk to him alone, and he shut that down instantly “nah.. nah none of that bullshit,” he said with a chuckle, taking the run down cigarette out of his mouth. it was laughable that he had to waste time addressing this “you don’t gotta be like that jus’because my baby’s here? she ain’t gonna lift her pretty little head up from my shoulder and go jus’ for your ass and your damn question” he said firmly, and you know so for how deep his voice got and how it rumbled in his body. whatever anyone needs to say, they can say in front of you.

cut the bullshit.

big jack glanced back at you again, sending you a look of apology and hoping that your weren’t super offended. he knows that you won’t do no harm, johnny reminds everyone that you're the sweetest girl he could ever wish for, and that you’d never try to hurt somebody. ever.

“well c’mon now, spit it out,” johnny’s voice chimed again, his chicago accent sharp as a knife. he’s not the one you want to make impatient.

big jack confesses he's been wanting to ask out this girl that’s been hanging out with for a while, and overhearing that she’ll be here once again tonight. so in all honesty, the poor guy just wanted some advice. all the guys started to tease him, expecting much worse. but the look on big jack’s face made your heart swell for a moment. he just wanted to show this girl what he really means to him.

but after he told everyone her name, you realized something. “she used to work at my dads repair shop,” your gentle voice broke through as you sat up, and made the other boys attention shift to you, eagerly waiting to hear more. including johnny “really? i-wow i uh.. that’s great! do-do y’know what she’s like, or what she may like?” you spoke directly to you, and you spotted a spark of hope in his eyes.

“she and i would hang out after her shift ended, we’d go to the ice cream parlor on the corner of ‘peach street’, across the way from the jefferson’s flower shop,” you voice was so smooth and silky, it only helped big jack feel more comfortable “her favorites are pink roses, we’d grab a bouquets and give them to strangers on our way home, in stores, parks, on the street” johnny could only smile. he’s known his girl had a heart of gold, but learning that you’ve always been so kind to others, only made him fall more in love with you.

you told big jack to ask her out and take her around there, knowing that your old friend had a special love for those places. he had a blush on his face now, regretting that he doubted your trust for something so small. “thank you so much dollie, i.. i’m sorry that i made it seem like you couldn’t hear what i had to say, just felt a little afraid to ask for advice about love in front of a sweet girl like you” you smiled up at him, knowing how nerve wracking it must feel to want to impress the love of your life. jus ask johnny! you can still recall how much of a flustered and stuttery mess he was when asking you to be his girl.

“not a problem, let me know how it goes!” you said with a squeal. all of you said your goodbyes, wishing big jack the best of luck. after he walked out the doors, all the boys were chatting about his impressed they were with your ‘love advice’

“y’really are something sent from heaven, aren’t ya’” cal completed you, an toothy grin on his face “why’d you think i always talk about her? she’s a real angel” johnny said proudly.

you look up at him, your cheeks hurting from how much your smiling “my little angel sent from above, aren’t you babygirl?” “i’m glad you think so” you’re head falling back on his shoulder, the red and black checkered button up feeling soft against your face.

before you went back to resting, johnny whispered in your ear “i know so” then placing a kiss on the top of your head, his stumble feeling rough again your skin.

in your mind, you’re the one who’s truly blessed.

[solomons-finest-rum]

“Road Runner” (Johnny Davis x OFC)

Masterlist

SUMMARY — Johnny crosses paths with a fiery redhead who seems to live for chaos. She’s the sister of a recently deceased member of the notorious Vandals. As Johnny gets drawn deeper into her whirlwind life, they find themselves caught in a dangerous game.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Holy moly, haven't felt inspired in a while, but then Tom Hardy graced my screen again and, well. It would be a shame not to play with Johnny some. I can't thank enough the wonderful @zablife for the encouragement to write this! ❤️❤️❤️

WORD COUNT — 5,284

Brucie entered the bar at precisely nine in the morning and put a stack of newspapers at Johnny’s regular table.

“Heard about what happened to Eddie?” Brucie asked before he even sat down, and all it got him was Johnny’s absent stare. 

There was a half-lit cigarette hanging out the corner of Johnny’s mouth and he already looked done with the day.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Johnny rasped, then reached for the first newspaper out of the stack to read the front page.

“Freak accident on the road to Skokie. All that horsepower, never had the chance with a truck and a buick ridin’ up against him,” Brucie said and shook his head. 

All Johnny did was he looked around and immediately there was someone up and pouring him and Brucie a cup of bourbon. They were out of the nicer glasses.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Johnny rasped and put out his unfinished cigarette. “What the fuck was he thinkin’?”

“Oh, you know Eddie,” Brucie raised his glass and then so did Johnny. “Wilder than the rest of them, that kid.”

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed just because, but his mind was already miles away. Planning, thinking ahead, shifting gears. 

“We’ll need to send flowers,” Johnny decided.

“Yeah.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” Johnny sighed and looked at the newspaper again. “The kid was too young to end up in a box.” 

There weren’t any pictures of the accident, but the description was vivid enough. 

“We’ll send it.” Brucie wrote something down in his notebook. “Doubt the family will want us there anyway.”

Johnny answered with a shrug, then lit another cigarette.

“What about the bike?” he asked.

“The bike?”

“Nice bike it was. A racer. Shame for it to be stuck in a barn or somethin’.” Johnny coughed a bit and pointed to the newspaper, then took another sip of his drink.

Brucie sighed at the very suggestion of asking the grieving family a thing like that, but finally he just nodded.

“I’ll try and find out.”

Turned out, finding out was not as much of a chore as it was a weird fucking encounter. First, Benny came by the bar and sat down with Johnny, wordlessly staring at the newspaper. The front page was still there in all its gorey glory.

Eddie and Benny used to ride together sometimes. They often made a bet with each other, then led the police on a wild goose chase just for laughs. 

“The bike,” Johnny said to Benny, then tapped the front page. “Know what happened to it?”

Benny, fond of his long pauses, looked down and lit a cigarette. Finally, Johnny raised his brows in annoyance and Brucie perked up his ears to hear the story.

“They lived on that apple farm outside of I24. Eddie and his family.”

Benny often gave up information reluctantly, as if keeping it inside his skull helped to keep him sane.

“They sell apples?” Johnny asked.

“His old man used to make cider, too.” Benny looked to the side pensively. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Still got a bottle stashed somewhere. We should drink it. You know, for Eddie.”

Johnny frowned some more, then just decided to accept the information at face value.

“I’ll go there tomorrow,” Brucie offered, but Johnny shook his head and that was that.

“If you thinkin’ of makin’ an offer, I’d hurry.” Benny took a long drag on his cigarette, then flicked the ash off with his thumb.

“Yeah? Why is that?” Johnny asked.

“His sister rides.”

“Bikes? His sister?” Brucie chuckled, then immediately stopped when Gail shot him an angry look.

“No. Horses.”

Brucie looked at Benny then like he tended to do quite often. A space oddity, that kid. But whether he was pensive or sad, Brucie decided to let him be. Eddie was his friend after all.

“I’ll go there end of the week,” Johnny said. “Offer a good price.”

“Why do you care so much anyway? Your bike’s good.” Benny asked the question nobody dared to up to this point. Johnny never got mad at Benny, though, so Brucie stayed put. Truth be told, he was curious himself.

“Because,” Johnny said. “It’s a good racin’ piece, that thing. I’ve seen you two racin’ way too many times.”

“Yeah, but Eddie always lost,” Benny smirked.

“Not when he didn’t let you win.”

Johnny smirked at Benny and that was as good as saying he still loved him despite Benny being a walking accident. So Benny left it at that and finished his coffee.

The farm was quite far away on the outskirts of Chicago. Johnny had to stop for gas on a remote station where every farmer and hillbilly in sight immediately let him know he wasn’t welcome. Johnny opted to ignore them.

He parked his bike by the front gate of the farm and took a look around. Immediately fed up with good countryside air, he lit a cigarette and squinted at all that sunlight. Feeling like a villain in a western, Johnny let himself in and walked the path leading to the barn. Right away he heard horses neighing, then someone shouting in the distance. Johnny turned that way and saw a woman riding a horse. She wasn’t only riding it, more like galloping straight at him. 

He realised it was him she was yelling at then; her fiery red hair a halo around her angry face. Johnny stood there, a little transfixed, his better judgment kicking in only when he realised she wasn’t going to stop the horse. He jumped out of the way at the very last moment, groaning as his side met the thorns of the nearby rose bushes.

The woman stopped the horse abruptly, all the roadside dust blowing up around them and obscuring Johnny’s vision. He coughed and tried to get up, already losing his patience.

But then he saw that angry five foot nothing marching towards him, all that red hair billowing behind her and a sawed off shotgun firmly gripped in her left hand. Thinking himself thoroughly out of bargaining chips, he raised his hands up high.

“Get up!” she shouted at him, her face twisted in a grimace of unholy fury.

“Fuck, I’m tryin’, ain’t I?!” Johnny barked back.

“What were you thinkin’, comin’ here on that fuckin’ bike! Haven’t you done enough?!” The woman kept shouting and Johnny only grimaced in response. 

He was now on one knee, hands still up. Against his better judgment, he looked her right in the eye, but quickly realised talking his way out of this one would prove to be tricky. 

“Look, alright, I don’t know what you’re so upset about, ‘cause—”

“My brother!” She shrieked. 

“Eddie?”

“Yes, Eddie! He died because of you!”

“Now, wait a damn minute…” 

“You! You and that fuckin’ gang of good-for-nuthin’ thugs on those fuckin’ machines!”

Johnny winced and looked at that shotgun again, trying to figure out his next move.

“Right.” He looked up at the woman, squinting from the sun and all that dust. Her dark horse, now grazing nearby, snorted like it was insulting Johnny personally. Not particularly fond of farm animals, Johnny wouldn’t put it past it.

“So you’re the sister, huh?”

She snorted not unlike the horse and finally put the safety on that shotgun. Johnny felt himself exhale.

“How observant,” she mocked, but then she extended her hand to help him up and Johnny took it. His knee immediately let him know how old he was.

“Get out of here. I don’t want you here.” She shoved him a little then and Johnny couldn’t help but be thoroughly shocked. 

Not that it did anything, she was not very strong, but in all his life Johnny had never been challenged by a woman. 

“Look…”

“No, mister, I ain’t lookin’ at nothin’, alright?” She shook her head and pointed that shotgun at the front gate. “Get outta here. We got nuthin’ to say to each other.”

“Alright. Alright. I’m goin’, see?” Johnny raised his hands again for no other reason but to show her she was in charge. He prided himself with never raising a hand at a woman, so he wasn’t about to start now. Not at a grieving one, either.

Even if she was insane.

She watched him turn his back to her and started to walk behind him like a very small guard dog that made up for its size with anger.

“Your parents let you walk around like that?” Johnny asked and dared a smirk since she couldn’t see his face anymore.

They walked a couple steps more along the path before she replied:

“Like what?”

“With that fuckin’ shotgun and all. It’s illegal, ya know? Might try to watch who you pointin’ that at.”

“What, you a cop now, mister?”

Johnny laughed at that and shook his head.

“And what'd you mean by that anyway? I’m supposed to wear frilly skirts on a farm?” she scoffed. “You try wearing a skirt on that ugly bike of yours, we’ll see how far it’ll take you.”

Johnny immediately took offence, since he had just renovated the red paint on it.

“What?” She grinned, watching him pull faces. “I’m supposed to just listen to you ‘cause you’re the boss or somethin’?”

“Yeah, or somethin’,” Johnny sighed, thoroughly regretting his decision to come there in the first place.

“I fuckin’ hate bikes. They’re all ugly.”

“Get outta here.” He waved his hand, letting her know she didn’t have a clue. None.

“Eddie told me all about you, Johnny Davis.”

“Yeah? And what’s that he told ya then?”

She paused and since they reached the gate anyway, Johnny figured what the dead brother had to say didn’t really matter.

“Yeah, you got us all wrong there.” Johnny turned around to look her in the eye. “You got nuthin’ to worry about from us, alright? We are sorry for Eddie. He was a good kid, alright, he… He really was.”

The sister looked at him all inquisitive like, but she didn’t put the shotgun away. It seemed to Johnny he got all compliant for nothing.

“Yeah, right,” she said, though without all that venom now. “I heard you burned down a bar only ‘cause they got in a fight with one of you.”

“That…” Johnny paused, looking for the right words. “That ain’t exactly how it happened.”

“But it did happen?” 

They looked at each other for the longest time, before Johnny finally gave her the smallest of nods.

“So,” she smirked, satisfied. “Let me tell you now so that you don’t get any ideas of comin’ here and botherin’ my folks. It’s the bike I’m thinkin’ you’re after and I can tell you now, we will sell it all, but not to you. I will sell it for parts and there’s nuthin’—”

“One thousand.”

“What?”

“One thousand, cash. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

She sputtered, visibly shocked. That suited Johnny just fine.

“You ain’t serious, mister.”

“I am serious, yeah.”

“You’re out of your mind!”

“I am,” he smirked, still a bit amused with her against his will.

When she didn’t answer, Johnny got back on his bike.

“One thousand,” he said again, but this time she turned her back to him in response.

Johnny watched her walk away, then took one last look at that farm; all those apple trees growing in orderly rows like soldiers, the reddish barn that hadn’t seen a lick of paint in years, and that angry woman full of fire inside her, apparently responsible for all of it not going to hell.

They got that in common, Johnny thought, as he rode away.

Johnny came back the next day, one thousand cash in his jacket pocket and a knife in his boot. Not that his plan was to knife the lady necessarily, but last time he came unprepared and he didn’t like it.

She didn’t pull out a shotgun on him again, but there was a knife in her hand and that Johnny liked even less. She was peeling apples; a big basket of them by her side and a bucket of cold water next to it. All that red hair was gathered in a braid so messy it barely held it together. Johnny was reminded of that time Betty went out of town to visit her folks and he got left alone with the girls. Suffice to say, Betty never made that mistake again.

“Thought you wouldn’t show,” the crazy sister greeted Johnny and the apple she peeled landed in the bucket of water with a splash.

“I said I’d come, so…” Johnny said, all in all not too sure how to start the money talk. Men were easy to start that conversation with, at least in his experience. You flash the cash, the deal was struck. Never in his life had he negotiated a deal stranger than this one.

“And what’s that?” She pointed with the knife to the can he was holding. 

Johnny felt then that the string of fate which brought him to the goddamn apple farm was not a string at all, but an electric wire.

“Paint,” he replied and placed it at her feet. 

She raised an eyebrow.

“What, you gonna throw it at me if I don’t sell the bike?”

“The fuck you talkin’ about, girl?” Horrified by the idea, Johnny didn’t even notice it was sarcasm.

She got up then and crouched by the can, then popped it open with the knife. 

“Red.” She looked up at him and for the first time actually smiled.

“Yeah, ‘cause…” Johnny pointed to the barn awkwardly, then shook his head. “Nah, forget it.”

“No!” She popped the lid back on before he could reach for it and nearly got his fingers. Unsure if he did good or not, Johnny decided to keep his hands to himself.

“I know the place is falling apart, alright? I just… Didn’t get the time.” She looked at the barn then finally got up. “Hey, thanks for that, mister. I’ll uh…”

“Johnny.”

“What?”

“Just Johnny. I ain’t no ‘mister’, yeah, you don’t gotta call me that.”

“Sure.” She winked at him then and Johnny didn’t know what to do with that.

“Wanna see the bike?”

She took Johnny to the barn and as soon as he saw the state of that bike he knew he had made a mistake.

“One thousand you said?” the snarky creature dared to ask and she thoroughly enjoyed rubbing it in.

The bike was crushed, there was no doubt about it. There was no moving it from there either. Johnny crouched down to take a look, but it needed no expert to see the huge chunk of the exhaust missing, along with the back wheel. There was a dent on the side of it the size of a boulder, but as far as Johnny could see, the engine was still somehow intact. 

“Here.” He extended the money to her as he got up and she looked at it like she expected it to bite her.

“What?” Johnny asked. “A deal’s a deal.”

Finally, she relented.

“I can drive it back to town for ya,” she said then and pointed to the red pickup at the far back of the barn.

“Nah, it’s…” Johnny shook his head before he could think it through.

“What?” she scoffed. “You gonna walk it?”

“Can you drive?”

“Who do you think picked Eddie up from the bar when he got too drunk to stand?”

Johnny took one more look at the dented space where the back wheel of the bike was supposed to be and he relented.

On principle, though, he rode his bike alongside her pickup. They even started a race as they passed the Salt Creek, because why the hell not. She stood no chance, the pickup was too heavy, but Johnny was impressed that she even tried.

She parked outside his house and Johnny left his bike on the lawn. As if summoned by magic, Betty’s face appeared in the kitchen window. She took one pointed look at the lawn and Johnny knew he would hear about it later.

“I’ll, uh, fix it up a bit. Needs work but it’s a good one,” he said as he put the gloves back on to unload the broken bike from the pickup. He still couldn’t tell if the sister gave a shit about it at all.

“Yeah, well. It’s yours. You can blow it up if you like. You bought it.”

She tried to hide her face from him and Johnny decided to let it be. As she drove away, he found himself watching until that damn banged up red pickup disappeared around the corner. Seeing Betty’s face in the kitchen window again, Johnny knew he was cutting it close.

Some time passed, not like Johnny was counting days or anything, but every time he caught a glimpse of red hair at the corner store or anywhere else around town, he felt like a lunatic. One time one of the guys came to the bar with a redhead and Johnny nearly threw him out for no reason other than apparently having lost his mind.

“You fight too much, Johnny,” Brucie said to him then, half-amused. “Got hit on the ol’ noggin’ one too many times.”

“Shut up, Brucie.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

But then she did come to the bar one night, the real her, and Johnny couldn’t believe his very eyes. Granted, neither could any of the Vandals.

It was one of the quieter nights, even with the occasional shouting and rock music. Johnny nursed his drink in the corner and just as he poured himself another one, he heard it—horseshoes rhythmically hitting the pavement, coming closer and closer. 

Johnny pushed the bottle away and lit a cigarette instead. He must have had enough and was just hearing things, but then the bar door swung open and someone wolf-whistled. Johnny turned around just in time to see Eddie’s sister standing there, jeans and cowboy boots and all. She looked around and that’s when Corky decided to try his luck.

Johnny watched them like a hawk and he couldn’t tell what exactly was being said, but sure enough, in one practiced swing Corky got punched in the throat. 

“Fuck me,” Johnny muttered to himself as he got up and made his way towards what could turn into a rightful mess.

The rest of the guys still couldn’t tell whether they were pissed off or turned on, and apparently neither could Corky, choking on the floor and gasping for air.

“What the fuck?” Johnny hissed and grabbed the crazy redhead by the shoulder.

He didn’t want to read too much into it, but he could swear she looked relieved to see him.

“Got bored of painting my damn barn, didn’t I?” She started to talk like it was rapid fire or something. “Needed myself a drink, heard you got a bar or… somethin’. Fuck, your friends are grabby, though.” 

The cheeky thing. Johnny didn’t even know what to say to that. He looked around and noticed the guys giving them an odd sort of look. It pissed him off for reasons he couldn’t really name.

“There,” Johnny somehow manoeuvred the crazy girl out of everybody’s grasp and they sat together at his table.

“So,” he muttered as he finally found two damn seconds of peace to light a cigarette. “Whaddya want?”

“That’s how this works or somethin’? I gotta come to you with somethin’ I want?”

Johnny tried his best not to smile.

“Yeah, people usually do.”

“Can’t I just want to buy you a drink?”

“In my own bar?”

She rolled her eyes at him, actually rolled her eyes at him, then helped herself to his bottle and poured them both a drink.

“How’s the bike?” she asked, trying to sound all casual.

Johnny sat there motionless for a good moment, smoking and sizing her up. She had some type of a deal, he was sure of it. Everyone did and everyone wanted something. He just couldn’t really tell what it was she wanted. Yet.

“It’s alright, yeah.” 

“You think it will run again?”

“Oh, she’ll run.”

“So it’s a she, is it?”

This time it was her suppressing a smile and Johnny felt easier about it all.

“‘Course it’s a she, what are you talkin’ about?” He finally felt well enough to have that drink and she followed suit.

Then they drank some more and things got more relaxed. And significantly more blurry.

“You know, when Eddie and I were little, he used to never shut up about motorcycles. There was that movie… With Dirk Bogarde. Yeah, you know the one.” She grinned at him, no doubt seeing that spark of fondness in his face that he was unable to suppress. 

“Anyway, he must’ve dragged me like five times to see that movie. In the end I got so sick of it, but I still let him quote the lines at me. Eddie loved all that life, man, and these damn bikes…” 

Johnny let her be wistful about it. She looked like she needed it. There was an urge there to reassure her that Eddie would be missed, because that was the truth, but then Johnny felt her foot sliding up his leg and his brain short-circuited. 

His eyes snapped to hers and that lazy smile she gave him made this whole thing even worse. For a moment he doubted this was even real, but there it was, her foot still intertwined somewhere between his calves, and his brain and dick no longer connected.

“I’m married,” he said there, more to remind himself than to actually break the tension.

But she straightened up in her chair immediately and that was that. Her cheeks grew even redder than the tequila had made them and Johnny sighed a long sigh.

“Sorry,” she murmured and finished the rest of her drink. 

“Nah. Don’t be.”

She looked up again and this time it was all look, don’t touch. But still, Johnny felt like it was more. Or maybe he just really wanted it to be.

“Now listen, I’m… What, a good twenty years older than you—”

“Oh, shut up, old man.”

She poured them another drink and leaned forward on the table. Suddenly, her leg was back between his legs and neither of them could so much as breathe. Johnny held her gaze just in case; she reminded him of all them mountain lions his grandfather was so fond of hunting. Difficult to hunt in the first place, silent and deadly. But in the dark… Yeah, they were at their finest. They crept up on you all softly—you blinked and you died.

Truth be told, Johnny very much wouldn’t give two fucks if he did die then and there. But it was a dangerous thing, the old wolf of the pack actually being called old.

“I ain’t that young, by the way,” she said. “But I bet it’s the fumes for ya. They’re bad for your skin or somethin’.”

Johnny scoffed and downed his drink. She did the same and the lines got even blurrier.

When he came to the next morning, he was still in his chair, leaning against the wall, with the unmistakable taste of last night’s cigarettes in his mouth and the heaviness of too much tequila in his temples.

Something stirred in the corner of his eye then and then Brucie spoke:

“John.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna tell me why there’s a horse in your bar?”

Johnny winced and forced himself to look. Every fibre of his being that was still even able to move groaned in protest.

“Well,” he muttered and rubbed his eyes, but there was indeed a horse—standing by the liquor cabinet, tail twitching nervously and all.

“I don’t know, Brucie, why don’t you go ask it, yeah?” Johnny rasped and then reached for his lighter, but his pack of Marlboros was empty as a tomb. Something stirred again in the corner and Johnny figured it was Brucie finally working up his courage to approach the horse.

“You think it wants a drink?”

Johnny opened his eyes again, suddenly alert. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if Brucie was kidding or not.

“Don’t feed the goddamn horse any liquor, Bruce, fuck’s sake. She’ll kill me.”

“You think it’s a she?”

“I don’t know if it is, yeah, but the horse has an owner and she’s very unstable, alright, let’s just leave it at that.”

“Oh… Your pretty little thing. Gotcha. Yeah, she’s out cold in the back.”

Johnny looked at him, even more annoyed now.

“My what?”

Brucie hesitated before speaking again and finally he pushed a bowl of water towards the horse. With loud, violent slurps, it started to drink.

“She’s sleepin’, Johnny, relax.”

Once again, Johnny felt like he absolutely, categorically wouldn’t relax anytime soon and so he stood up and only then did Brucie finally start making sense:

“Now listen, John, I didn’t let nobody near her, right, but the way you two been polishin’ that tequila bottle was somethin’ else, so… Yeah, she’s out cold.”

Johnny just shook his head and decided any explanation on his part would only make things worse. 

“Fuck, I need to get home,” Johnny rasped, but he went to the back instead. 

And there she was, fuck him sideways, sleeping on a bench and covered with something that looked suspiciously like Johnny’s Vandal jacket. She didn’t even move when he poked her shoulder and so he shook her as gently as he could.

“What?” She almost shot up when she finally woke and Johnny got a little alarmed by how panicked she looked.

“Yeah, you’re alright there, you’re okay,” he said in what he hoped was a comforting tone. “You just had too much to drink, but you’re okay.”

“I seem to remember someone drinking with me,” she snapped and sat up to put her shoes back on. “Fuck, my head…”

Johnny cleared his throat and decided not to comment. His own head was not faring any better.

“Did I say anything stupid last night?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. Lots,” Johnny lied, smirking a bit.

She sized him up, full of suspicion.

“You don’t remember either, do ya?”

“Nope.”

Johnny helped her up and tried to ignore how much he liked seeing her in that jacket. Betty wouldn’t ever wear a Vandal jacket, but then again, he never asked her to do it either.

“My horse?”

“Having a drink with Brucie, don’t worry about him, he’s fine.”

She didn’t find that too amusing.

“Hey, Sleepin’ Beauty!” Brucie hollered at her as soon as they emerged from the backroom. Johnny winced at the noise.

She laughed as she saw her horse by the bar, but at least had the decency to look apologetic about it all.

“Your idea to bring him inside, was it?” Johnny asked, but unlike Brucie, he didn’t dare to come closer. 

Brucie, though, that guy had no fear. He was patting the horse on the neck and whispering something to him. Johnny had never seen him affectionate like that.

“There… might have been a discussion last night, how he’d be cold outside, John.”

“That so?”

“It was your idea, actually,” Eddie’s sister interjected, then poured herself whatever was left from the coffee pot.

Johnny felt personally offended by the notion.

“Fuck no, it wasn’t.” 

“I say it was and we can’t ask the horse, so…”

“Look, can I just…” Johnny rubbed his face and tried very hard to remain cool. But at the very last moment he changed his mind and what he finally said was:

“Can I get that horse outta my bar now?”

The cheeky little thing had the audacity to grin about it and then marched through the bar, grabbed her horse by the reins and carefully led it outside. Johnny caught Brucie’s amused look and didn’t even have to ask what all of that was about. 

She still had his jacket on. Johnny kicked himself for it, but wouldn’t ask for it back.

Not that long after, the rumours around town were in full swing. One evening Gail and Kathy let him know exactly what they thought about his old ass trading someone like Betty for a younger model and how apparently perverted he was. Johnny let them talk, mostly since there was nothing he could have said that would make them believe he was not having an affair. 

Then again, maybe he was. Who the fuck knew at this point. Betty believed him when they had that discussion, at least for a time, but finally something in her snapped, too. She took the girls to her folks and hadn’t come back since. Not that Johnny expected she would.

What cemented the rumours was Eddie’s sister coming over one night, entirely out of the blue. Johnny was in the driveway, still working on Eddie’s banged up bike. As soon as he saw that red pickup park straight in front of his house, something stirred in him. But then, he was damn sure all the neighbors saw it park there too, so the time for denial was over. 

“Am I interrupting?” 

She approached him with a six pack of beers, flaunting her figure in those dark blue Levi’s. She could interrupt him all she wanted.

“Nah.” He got up and took the beers from her. Then she leaned in closer and for a good moment Johnny didn’t know what to do with himself.

But all she did was take his handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans and she wiped the motor oil stain from his cheek. He got a whiff of that pink Lux soap and then, entirely on instinct, he held her closer with his free hand. She looked up and it was like her eyes said, “Finally.” Johnny knew then that he wouldn’t let go of her anytime soon.

They kissed out in the open and with a full air of social disapproval. Johnny couldn’t give two shits about anyone’s approval, though, and knew she didn’t either. Although… Fucking in that creaky bed he had shared with another woman would have been bizarre, but fortunately they didn’t even make it to the bed. 

She let Johnny push her against the wall and he nearly tore those Levi’s off of her. Kissing her left him dazed, but then she started to bite his neck and that turned him feral instead. It felt alien, being so wanted, and how fucking sad was that. 

But she did want him and they fucked twice. The second time on the sofa, with her on top. Johnny couldn’t get enough of the sight of her.

They shared that six pack in the tub. She was sitting between his legs and it felt like she just belonged there. They didn’t even talk about anything in particular, but the water was warm and she was snuggled up against him like she actually wanted to be there. 

“Where’s that one from?” she asked about yet another tattoo and Johnny looked down to see better which one caught her attention.

“Marines.”

It was an unfinished head of a rottweiler on his thigh. He got half of it, then a dishonorable discharge for his trouble. Never quite got around to fixing it and now it was half-done on purpose.

“You like to swim, huh?”

“Not so much.”

“But you don’t mind the water now, do ya?”

“Nah,” He grunted and gave her the rest of the beer. “It’s like I’m livin’ again, girl.”

“Good. We’re gonna live some, you and I.”

Johnny felt her chuckle against his chest and he just held her tighter. And even if this wasn’t heaven, then the feeling was pretty damn close.

[perfettamentechic]

15 marzo … ricordiamo …

15 marzo … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2021: Yaphet Kotto, Yaphet Frederick Kotto, attore statunitense. Si sposò tre volte: con Rita Ingrid Dittman, con Antoinette Pettyjohn e con Tessie Sinahon. (n. 1939) 2020: Suzy Delair, vero nome Suzanne Pierrette Delaire, attrice francese. E’ stata la compagna di Henri-Georges Clouzot. (n. 1917) 2015: Sally Forrest, nata Katherine Feeney, attrice statunitense, teatrale e televisiva degli anni…

[darkshrimpemotions]

Listen. Look me in the eyes. For season 6 episode 9 further reading:

Film: The Warriors (1979)

Album: Warriors by LMM, Eisa Davis

Refreshment & Reflection:

WWDITS s01e07: The Trial

WWDITS s03e03: Gail

WWDITS s03e10: The Portrait

WWDITS s04e01: Reunited

WWDITS s04e06: The Wedding

WWDITS s04e09: Freddie

WWDITS s05e03: Pride Parade

WWDITS s05e08: The Roast

WWDITS s05e10: Exit Interview

WWDITS s06e05: Nandor's Army

WWDITS s06e07: March Madness

[sparkoflena]

Some book reccomendations for absolutely no reason today:

[Standalone Dystopian & Fantasy]

- The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes by Suzanne Collins (prequel to the Hunger Games but the Hunger Games also applies here)

- Babel by RF Kuang

- 1984 by George Orwell (and everything else written by this author)

- The Spear Cut Through Water by Simon Jimenez

- Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

- She Who Became The Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

- Unbecoming by Seema Yasmin

- The Women by Kristin Hannah

[Fantasy & Dystopian Series]

- The Blood Trials by NE Davenport (a duology)

- An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir (a series)

- The Fifth Season by NK Jemisin (a trilogy)

- The Bone Season by Sammantha Shannon (a series)

- A Broken Blade by Melissa Blair (a series)

- Daughter of No Worlds by Carissa Broadbent (a trilogy)

- Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi (a series)

- The Final Strife by Saara El-Arifi (a trilogy)

[Nonfiction]

- Hood Feminism by Mikki Kendall

- Healing Resistance by Kazu Haga

- The Color of the Law by Richard Rothstein

- The Book of Hope by Jane Goodall, Douglas Abrams, & Gail Hudson

- The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green

- Freedom is a Constant Struggle by Angela Y Davis

- This Book Will Save The Planet by Dany Sigwalt (and the rest of the series by Quarto Publishing)

[groovysarity]

Until 1974 in the USA women were unable to open a bank account or acquire a line of credit without a man co-signing.

The financial services industry was led by (usually white) men. So eight women came together to turn everything around by opening their own Women's Bank.

Carol Green, Judi Wagner, LaRae Orullian, Gail Schoettler, Wendy Davis, Joy Burns, Beverly Martinez, and Edna Mosely founded the bank's board by each pitching in $1,000.

On 14 July 1978 The Women's Bank opened for business. People stood in line down the street in downtown Denver to deposit their money. The first day's deposits exceeded $1 million

[imwintr]

cold

pairing | corky x reader

prompt | “it’s a camping trip, and one character’s forgotten their sleeping bag” by scealaiscoite wc 1406.

Deciding to join the vandals on their Dayton run picnic was a last minute decision. Having never spent a substantial amount of time with any of them other than seeing a couple of them over your neighbor Kathy’s home in passing, it would be fair to say that you were skeptical about attending. Though Kathy’s husband Benny seemed friendly enough, no amount of friendliness would be enough to convince you that hanging out with a motorcycle club that had been recently accused of arson was a good idea. 

The only reason you even initially even considered the idea was because although you and Kathy had been neighbors for well over a few years, you hadn’t become friends until recently when she stopped by asking to borrow some sugar. She confided in you about Benny’s injuries and the whole Lakeside ordeal, so you decided to attend on behalf of her “moral support”. It wasn’t like you had much of anything else to do in the coming days regardless, having already taken several days off from work. 

Since you weren’t staying for the entire duration of the run–and obviously didn’t own a motorcycle–you settled on staying for two nights before heading back on the road. Already not being the biggest fan of camping in general, you attempted to shove down the ensuing dread that was bubbling in your stomach to no avail. That feeling only intensified when you actually arrived on the grounds and saw the copious amount of people that were already there. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take you long to locate Kathy, who quickly introduced you to some of the other wives and girlfriends who had rode in with their partners. She furthermore introduced you to the Vandals’ leader and founder Johnny Davis, who you were initially wary of because of what you learned beforehand, but meeting Betty made you believe he still had to have some decency left under all of that bravado. Afterwards, you started getting approached by some of the members themselves despite Kathy’s attempt to swat the majority of them away–especially one Vandal in particular.  

This wouldn’t actually be your first time meeting Corky, though all of your other interactions were in passing with only a few words spoken. He asked you to remind him of your name before taking a seat next to you, causing Kathy to roll her eyes before resuming her conversation with Gail. Knowing that a good bulk of the guys in the club were bums who had no foreseeable future other than risking their lives riding motorbikes, you could understand why she was trying to steer you away from getting involved with any of them (not to mention the present circumstances she was dealing with in her own marriage). 

“Enjoying yourself?” he questioned, pushing his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose from where they had begun to slide down. You had to admit it, you found him pretty attractive, although you would never admit that out loud, nor would you willingly allow yourself to develop any feelings for him. He was probably just humoring you or trying to be cordial since it was technically your first time at one of their events. Little did you know that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“I guess so, is this what you guys call fun?” you attempted to joke, which he thankfully seemed to pick on and gave you a laugh in return. Someone else decided to sit down on the other end of the bench, causing him to scooch over to where your legs and arms were brushing up against each other. Surprising yourself, you didn’t immediately move away from the contact. That awful feeling of dread you initially held when you arrived was long gone, replaced with an odd giddiness that made it difficult to keep a smile off of your face or keep yourself from laughing at each dumb joke he made. 

Never having been the type to hastily fall in love or believe in something as ludicrous as love at first sight, this was entirely foreign to you–and made your current behavior borderline unrecognizable to anyone that knew you beforehand. It wasn’t like you were constantly irritable or anything of that nature, but it wasn’t uncommon to see you donning an unamused expression when someone attempted a romantic advance. If someone were to tell you a week ago that you would be practically cuddled up next to a member of the Vandals a week later, you would have asked if they were feeling alright. As the day went on, you spent the rest of your time witnessing some of the club members’ absurd antics and listening to the girls conversate about what was going on in their relationships. 

By nightfall, groups had begun to break out and settle around individual campfires before turning in to go to bed. It was only then when you noticed how cold it had gotten with the sun having gone down, leading you to venture out to your car to retrieve a blanket. Noticing your return, Corky gave you a teasing smile before he asked “Still enjoying yourself?”. Rolling your eyes, you took the seat he had saved you between Wahoo and himself, and nodded before pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Are you cold?” He questioned, his smile fading and his eyebrows raising in concern. 

“A little bit.” you admitted sheepishly, suddenly feeling foolish for not packing better and being more prepared for the weather. “But I’ll be alright–” you were cut off mid sentence when you felt him gently grab your elbow so your arms and legs were touching just like before. 

“Better?” 

“I guess.” responding with a shrug, you giggled when he rolled his eyes in response, mirroring your actions from earlier. Around a couple of hours later, you guess he had gotten tired because he eventually decided to lay down on the log and propped up his leg behind you. You did your best to ignore Kathy’s playfully judgemental stare but it was kind of challenging when you were practically sitting in between Corky’s legs (which are quite long by the way). 

By the time everyone had decided that they were turning in for bed, you had really begun regretting your decision to just sleep in your car instead of bringing sleeping bags like everyone else and sleeping closer to the campfire. You weren’t looking forward to the cold leather in the backseat of your car, especially after sitting next to a human body heater and a campfire for several hours. Once you bid Kathy goodnight, you began walking out past everyone rolling out their sleeping bags to your car that was about 30 feet away. Hearing someone softly call out your name, you whipped your head around to see a familiar face removing his sleeping bag from his bike. 

“Where you going?”

“I didn’t bring a sleeping bag so I’m just gonna sleep in my car.” Saying that out loud caused you to cringe internally. Why didn’t you just bring a sleeping bag to a camping trip? 

“You’re gonna freeze, just take mine.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.” Apparently your back and forth was getting bothersome because someone from a nearby sleeping bag hissed for you to quiet down and go to sleep. 

“We can just share it.” He suggested before picking a spot to roll it out for the night. Despite not wanting to cause anymore of a commotion than you already had, you were still milling over whether or not to just share the sleeping bag with him or just head back to your car–but you made the decision to stay. If it was anyone else you would have been overwhelmed and anxious–but to your own bewilderment the man who was beckoning you to lay down next to him, whose legs were comically too long for the sleeping bag he owned–did no such thing. 

Squeezing in next to him you were immediately met with an arm snaking its way around your shoulder to pull you closer to him. Rolling onto his back he left the arm around your shoulder and placed the other one behind his head, leaving you enough room to rest your head on his chest. There was no nagging feeling deep inside telling you to get up and run away, instead–you felt oddly at peace. 

Maybe hanging out with the Vandals for a few days wouldn’t be so bad.