#but i'd drink it in honour of john

[taasgirl]

tasteful / jude bellingham pt 4.

summary: england's annual award ceremony! have fun :)))

read part three! here

liked by rioferdy, lionesses, ellatoone, and 329, 203 others england Players are starting to arrive!

user68210 Alessia Russo is picking up EVERYTHING

user02912 beth is looking so fine omg

user58232 if jude bellingham doesn't get anything, i fear i'll die

liked by user10291, judebellingham, user79132, and 6,812 others user56719 Y/N LOOKS SO GOOD I'M SCREAMING AND SCRATCHING THE WALLS WHAT THE FUCK

user01002 she looks so so so good

user79128 Please just one chance omg

user92118 anyone else see the jude like 🤭

user61771 i'd understand if it was an @ england post, but it's literally a fan acc, like what 💀

liked by racheldaly, bukayosaka, ellatoone, and 452, 918 others england Congratulations to our Lions and Lionesses who were awarded tonight!

Best Player - Harry Kane, Y/N L/N Best Attacker - Jude Bellingham, Rachel Daly Best Defence - John Stones, Millie Bright Best Goalkeeper - Jordan Pickford, Mary Earps Best Performance - Y/N L/N (ENG vs SPA WWC)

user81291 BUKAYO SAKA ROBBEDDDD

user62218 y/n is the it girl of football omg

user01192 THIS!

ynusername What an honour 🙏

england Anything for our ⭐girl!

liked by user82923 and 67 others user11521 Y/N crying???? Someone pls go hug her omg...

user72632 i lowkey feel like the pressure is getting to her

user92324 Stop posting this!! Let her have privacy omg

liked by user70293, user52632 and 240 others user88264 paaaaaaathetic @ ynusername stop posing for the photos, and start focusing on football.

user62732 wtf!!! can a girl not even cry anymore without getting hate omfg

user29320 She's just won two big awards and is acting like a child because she didn't win them all. How does anyone like her, she's a total brat.

user82932 how old are you bro?? get a fucking life jeez

view jackgrealish's story

liked by madders, bethanyengland, england, and 547, 827 others judebellingham Beyond proud. Thank you to my teammates, staff, coaches, and anyone who has supported me on this journey. Remember to talk whenever you need help. Love you all x.

marcusrashford Come on my boy

harrykane Young star

england On the rise 📈

liked by racheldaly, declanrice, johnstones, and 53, 823 others katiezelem The after party was a lot less tame then the ceremony... thank you @ ellieroebuck for the pics 😝

ynusername I can't believe I missed this ugh

katiezelem Gives us a week, and we'll go for round two

esmemorgan Can confirm that I can drink martinis quicker than @ jackgrealish

laurnehemp Ok lotte getting it on 🤣

lottewubbenmoy shhhhhhh

As always, let me know if you like this story, and if you want to be tagged in the next part!!

PART 5 WOOOO

@bibissparkles @fashphotolife @hummusxx @notleclerc @alwaysclassyeagle @rikirikiloml

[runningfrom2am]

Hiii if it’s okay, can I request a jj x pogue!reader? Where they are in a secret relationship.. but right before a kegger they get into a fight and ignore each other, then a girl starts flirting with jj and he fake flirts back to make the Pogues not suspicious about your relationship but reader gets insecure and thinks jj is honest with his flirting and she gets upset, walks away idk, you can think of the ending haha hope this makes sense 😊

okay YES i love this so much omg.

tysm for sending this to me! i'm honoured that you trusted me with this and i hope it's what you pictured!

requests are open! send me something here.

join my taglist here

proving a point - (j.m)

pairing: jj x pogue!reader

warnings/tags: strong language, alcohol consumption/abuse, established (secret) relationship, that's p much it??

wc: 1.9k

"Christ, JJ! Since when do you give a shit how much I drink? At an actual party?" You yell, dropping your hands from where they were rubbing the sides of your head in frustration.

"Since I had to drag you out of the driver's seat of your shitty car that's hardly drivable in the best of times! Fuck, like, I just don't want you to kill yourself or get arrested if I'm not babysitting you for five fucking seconds! I don't think I'm being crazy, here!" Your boyfriend shouts back, leaving you both staring at each other in his messy and quiet living room.

You scoff, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest. "Why's it matter to you so much anyways? Not like we have any points to prove, right? God forbid we show our friends we care about each other- that we love each other. That would just be too much, wouldn't it?"

JJ rolls his eyes, taking off his hat and turning it back the way he always does when he's about to do something risky, in the way that usually makes your heart skip a beat. This time it just makes your anger spike. "You're right. Fuck it. I'll mind my business, you black out and drive into a tree. Hit another car and kill the driver. See if I give a fuck."

"I'm not gonna drive to the boneyard, JJ. You're so fucking dense sometimes- seriously! John B is driving all of us, do you actually think I'm stupid enough to steal the Twinkie?" You retort, gesturing with one arm in the general direction of where John B's house is.

"Sometimes, yeah!" JJ laughs dryly, nodding at you.

"Oh, right. Gotcha." You nod sarcastically. "Is that why we can't tell them? Are you embarrassed because your girlfriend is stupid and gets drunk at parties? Please- I'd love to know."

"That's not why and you know it, Y/N." JJ rolls his eyes, pacing the living room now.

"Whatever you say. I'll see you tonight." You mumble, heading for the door and slamming it behind you.

You trudge your way out to your car and drive off, fighting back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. He didn't mean that. He couldn't have.

By the time John B arrives with the rest of your friends to pick you up on the way to the boneyard, you've managed to down three drinks to get a good buzz going before you have to see JJ again. Putting on your brave face as you close your front door behind you, you smile as you approach the van, and the back door slides open, revealing Pope and Kie in the back.

"Y/N!" Kie grins, moving over to give you some room.

"Hey, guys!" You smile, closing the door behind you as John B is already peeling out. You steady the drink in your hand, making very brief eye contact with JJ over his shoulder in the passenger seat. His eyes landing on the drink in your hand don't go unnoticed as Kie and Pope continue the conversation you were assuming they were having before you jumped in.

It isn't long after you arrive that there are kids from all over the island at the kegger, sharing drinks and yelling listening to distant music with a big bonfire raging on the sand. You sway a little with your arm placed over Kie's shoulder, both trying to steady yourselves as you talk with some other pogues you don't see very often between everyone's busy work schedules.

"Hey, wait, you guys are close with Maybank, right?" The blonde girl standing in front of you asks, attempting to whisper but the alcohol in all of your systems is preventing it.

"Yeah." You nod, looking around for him, spotting him by the fire.

"Is he single still?" She asks, and you try to suppress a laugh. Luckily, Kie isn't able to stop hers for a completely different reason.

"That hot mess? Of course he is." Kie laughs, reaching out and tapping the girl's shoulder playfully. "You're funny."

You bite your tongue, actively fighting against the glare you want to give her. You disguise it by laughing awkwardly along with Kie.

"Oh my god, how? He's so hot, are you kidding?" She giggles, shaking her head at you guys.

"Well, you don't know him like we do." You say, shrugging a little and hoping she doesn't pick up on the bitterness in your tone. She doesn't even have a shot- you're confident of that much. You and JJ love each other, even if you fight sometimes. You'll make up within the week, just like last time.

"Well, it's worth a shot." She laughs and Kie nods, pointing JJ out to her in the crowd.

The girl asks you to wish her luck as she walks off, adjusting her shirt and pulling it down slightly as she walks over to him. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from grinding your teeth together. "Kie, wanna go watch this trainwreck?" You ask, leaning into her like you're joking and she nods.

"Oh, god, yes." She laughs, and the both of you cling onto each other as you walk your way over, keeping enough distance so the girl JJ is now talking to doesn't catch on that you're listening. They're not alone, there's loads of people around, including John B and Pope who were already at JJ's side, just watching as the girl leans into your boyfriend and he drapes his arm over her shoulder, leaning down to listen closely to what she has to say.

"What are you drinking?" She asks him, tilting her head to look into his cup and then back up at him.

"Just beer." He shrugs. "Why, you want to try it? Might be a little strong for you." He teases her, making you tense up.

"Oh, please." She giggles, grabbing the cup from him and downing it, tossing the cup on the ground.

"Fuck the beaches, I guess." You mutter to Kie, who also looks displeased at her actions. You need Kie to know you're upset- to take your side even if she doesn't really know what's going on.

"That's gross." Kie says, a sour look on her face now.

"Damn, you're a crazy one, aint'cha?" JJ says, squeezing her shoulders before dropping his arm down her back, grabbing her by the waist. With his friends keeping a close eye on him, he doesn't want them to suspect anything. He finds it hard enough as it is to keep his hands off you in front of them in the soberest of times, forget when either of you have been drinking. He's coping by convincing himself it's you under his arm, not this random girl he's only entertaining to prove a point to any prying eyes. Which, unfortunately, happens to be yours.

"I... I've gotta go. Uh.. yeah." You say,  wiggling out from Kie's grasp and stumbling off down the beach, struggling to make distance with your shoes in the thick sand.

Maybe he did mean it when he said that he thinks you're stupid. Maybe he is embarrassed- and maybe this is his immature way of showing you that you're done. That you're not worth it anymore.

"You okay?" Kie calls after you.

"Just have to pee." You make a quick excuse, not looking back to make sure she doesn't see that you're so visibly upset. JJ saw, however.

You make it up to where John B parked the Twinkie, the back packed with sleeping bags and random blankets and pillows in case any of you couldn't bum a ride home with someone else.

You find yourself shaking as the world spins around you and you polish off your cup, collapsing back against the far side of the vehicle and sliding down, curling your knees up to your chest as your body is wracked with your sobs. You can't stop it now. You've lost the boy you knew was the love of your life- who you thought was the love of your life.

You let yourself cry, comfortable enough with your drunkenness and distance from the party that no one can hear you as you crush the plastic cup in your hands, shaking and trying to ground yourself.��

You eventually drop the cup, resigning to burying your face in your hands.

"Baby?" Your head snaps up when you hear a familiar voice, and when you open your eyes JJ is kneeling in front of you, reaching for your wrists to pull your hands away from your face. "Y/N/N, hey, c'mere..." He says, his tone soft and comforting despite what you just saw.

"I saw you, J! I saw that! You can't-" You sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve. "You can't come here and act like we're not done."

"What? Baby, no, it's not like that- I just, I didn't want the boys to see me shove her off they'd ask questions. You know me." JJ chuckles a little at the end, trying to cheer you up but failing miserably. "I'm sorry. Hey, look at me. I'm sorry, I took it too far. We're not done, I love you, you know that." He says seriously, locking eyes with you and rubbing your wrists with his thumbs.

You shake your head, laughing slightly. "No- this is my fault, I'm being stupid." You insist. "It's fine, JJ. I get it."

"Shit." He sighs, dropping his head defeatedly. He knows you. He knows how you internalize things and he knew as soon as he said it earlier in the day that he would regret his impulsive answer when he said he thought that sometimes you were stupid. He meant irresponsible; he meant that you don't worry about your own safety as much as he wishes you would, but in the heat of the moment he couldn't articulate that. "You're not being stupid. I was being a dick."

"A little." You admit, laughing softly. You hate fighting, you're tired of it, and you want him to not take your stupid overreactions too seriously. "I am being stupid though."

"No, you're not. You couldn't be as stupid as me if you tried." JJ insists, dropping one of your hands to reach up and brush a tear from your cheek. "I just worry about you and I'm sorry I touched her. To be honest, I'm a little pissed she stole my drink. She's annoying as shit, too."

This makes you giggle, meeting his eyes again. "There's that smile..." He whispers, brushing his thumb over your cheek again.

You lean a little into his hand. It's impossible to stay mad at him, and you know he meant what he said about her. "You know what? Fuck it. Can we tell everyone?" JJ asks suddenly, catching you off guard.

"I- well..." You ponder it. "Do you want to?" You ask.

"This is stupid, isn't it? I want everyone to know we're together. Don't you?"

You nod, smiling softly at him. "It is kind of dumb." You agree.

"Let's skip that awkward conversation and just show everyone instead." JJ nods, satisfied with himself as he lets you go to stand up, holding his hand out to you. "Come on. Let's get you another drink so I can carry you home tonight." He teases, making you laugh as you take his hand and he pulls you up.

"Do you actually think I'm stupid?" You ask with a giggle, walking hand in hand back down to the beach.

"Sometimes, yeah." JJ jokes, making you shove his shoulder with your free hand. "Never any stupider than me, though. That's why we work."

"Stupider isn't a word, I don't think." You laugh, and JJ shrugs in response.

"That's my point proven."

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e / chapter thirty five

Isaiah

I sat beside Bonnie on a deep red leather sofa in Tommy's office. The younger lad didn't exactly look uncomfortable to be here but I could tell he wasn't so used to long afternoons of knitted brows and Arthur Shelby's fucking pacing. I wondered if he knew the extent to which the trouble Tommy had called us in to discuss really stretched. The roots to which the rot had already penetrated.

When he'd first called everyone in for a debrief the office had been packed. Everyone had answered his middle of the night call to arms, his brothers and his right hand men, the travellers who had arrived in a steady flow throughout the night until there were caravans and trucks littering the lane like a steady flowing river all the way up the road to arrow house. Everyone had stacked into the office to listen to him. The bringer of bad news. He'd talked of the vendetta, the war about to waged not only upon his family but any family honest enough to honour their bond with the Shelby's.

I'd stood behind my father in his chair and listened to grave retelling of the hit on Arthur and John. I'd seen the photographs taken of Michael in his barely alive condition. I'd swallowed a lump when Polly had teared up, when she'd had to lean on Arthur to hold herself up straight. I'd stood by and listened as Tommy doled out orders to each and every man. No one left unaccounted for. No one without a role to play. I'd nodded to my father when Tommy had patted him on the shoulder, shown him the sign of the cross and sent him away. I'd watched everyone else leave until only myself and Bonnie Gold remained.

"Sit down lads," said Tommy, "make yourselves at home it's gonna be a long night." He'd met my gaze with a quiet look of confirmation, as if to tell me 'I know what you're thinking and you're right.'

I knew what was coming next. Knew enough about the wayward Fens who had all but abandoned the family and rejected the name Shelby. All but forgotten their darker roots. The Fens who went by the name Gray these days and who spent their lives wrapped up in luxury, all grace and class.

I'd known then just what it was he had in mind for us. Not Bonnie though, he was sitting there, quite comfortably, one arm outstretched along the back of the sofa, taking in his surroundings with that quiet smirk he so often seemed to wear. We'd always gotten along, me and Bonnie, but I'd always known we were cut from a completely different cloth. "As you know I'm bringing the whole family in until I've deciphered exactly what and who is threatening us, the Changrettas and Z

Sabinis have declared war on me and my blood and until we know exactly how to fight it i want everyone who may be at risk right where I can see them... Now, Arthur's gone to fetch Ada and the kid back up from London, and when she gets here I'm sure she'll give me hell for dragging her back, but I'm not really worried about Ada. She's a sensible lass and she knows the risks that come with the Shelby name, she's seen enough shit to take all this seriously and she won't want any harm to come to little Karl so I expect that once she's said her piece she'll toe the line..." When he paused he took a sip of whiskey and he smirked.

"But, the same cannot be said for my other little sisters.." He sighed and I couldn't help but chuckle as he poured a glass for me and one for Bonnie.

"Why do I get the feeling whatever you're about to ask us is gonna require more than a sip of whiskey Mr Shelby..." Smirked Bonnie, his cheeky smile not quite matching up to the grey trouble in his eyes. He wasn't naive.

"Drink up soldier." I said with a dry smirk which did little to ease the tension rising in the room.

The Fens didn't have a lot to do with their brothers or the family in general, I'd grown up in the bossom of the Shelby's, half raised by Aunt Polly myself and still only seen those girls a handful of times. The last of those times being when little Sonya and Sylvia Shelby were 11 years old in ballet frocks, still small enough that they could sit one on each of John's hips, their hair in little french plaits, still so similar you couldn't tell who was who.

I'd seen them since of course, it wasn't as if they'd been forgotten about by their family and their Aunt Pol was so proud of them that whenever a new video, a new photograph emerged online of them on the stage she'd make sure everyone saw it at least ten times. They cropped up in the Rags often enough too, the primadonnas with mafia ties, dainty little socialites with all their sophisticated talents, whose money came from drugs, murder and all kinds of corruption. If one of us ever made an appearance in court, if one of us ever got caught up in another violent clash, if we were photographed leaving a notorious club in the wrong end of town, you could almost guarantee that some lowlife pap had done their best to get a photo of the delicate ballerinas in distress somewhere outside their school or the theatres.

As they'd gotten older they'd done their best to distance yourself, but how far can you ever really get from the Shelby shadow. And they were, after all, their brothers sisters. As children they'd been tearaways and if there was one thing I'd learned knowing Ada as well as I did, it was that the wildness is never quite tamed. The Shelby curse never skips a generation.

No, I might not have known them so well, but I knew enough to know that Bonnie was right. If Tommy was about to ask us to guard his little sister's, I was gonna need more than a swig of whiskey to temper me through the trouble they would cause.

"Isaiah, you'll remember the Fens," said Tommy, "so I'm sure you can answer our lads questions eh?" He was smirking and I could tell he was holding back not for my sake but for Bonnie's. "No," he said then, cracking a wider grin, "no, Sonya's quite tame, emotional but tame," he said but the look in his eyes told us both he wasn't finished. "To be quite candid with you boys I haven't spoken to my little sisters for a long time, and perhaps I don't know them quite as well as I would like to now but, they made it very clear a long time ago that that was the way it was to be. They won't want to come home, in fact I should imagine this house is the last place they'd think to call home these days, sorry as that seems," I knew he'd added that for Bonnie's benefit, because Bonnie's family were tight, because he'd been raised much like Tommy, to value family above all else. "But circumstances have changed and so home they must come... And when they get here they're under your care, I want you to stick to them like glue, never a second out of your sight. It's like I said, I don't know them half as well as I should and so, I can't trust them half as much as I would like... I don't know that they'll listen to us or believe us when we tell them of the threats hanging over their heads, we've always done our best to keep them out of the family business and so, as much as I'm sure they'd like to believe they understand what we do, they don't. They don't know anything, don't understand the dangers... They're far more vulnerable than I'd like to believe, a mistake of my own making I'm sure, and I'm not gonna be around all the time to keep them safe. Can't guarantee my brother's will be here either. That's why I need you two to keep and eye on them... More than that I need you to look after them like you would your own sisters."

"Course Tommy," I said, nodding, saving my words because the gravity of the situation was looming and I could see the devotion in his eyes. There was a fear there he didn't often show, a grave shadow in his eyes.

"I know they haven't been around for a long time, don't even call themselves Shelby anymore, but theyre still family and they're fucking precious, so you keep them safe... No matter what happens that's you're priority from here on out, don't give a fuck what you have to risk for them, don't give a fuck if you put your own life on the line... Those girls come first alright?"

"Understood Mr Shelby." Nodded Bonnie, a grave look in his own eyes now as he watched the floor, slight downward turn of his head, thoughtful. We looked the same then, with our caps shadowing our eyes. The two of us taking it in, bearing the weight cast upon our shoulders.

"Now there's another matter too, should the worst happen..."

"Ain't gonna happen Tom..." I started, teeth gritted because I recognised the doom in his voice.

"Should the worst happen..." He reiterated, "and we lose this war, if someone gets a hit on me or any of my brothers, if you can see the dominoes begin to fall..."

Bonnie had had his hand in his pocket until now but as Tommy's tone took a darker tone his hand wandered and his fingers stroked his chin and then the back of his neck. He had a faraway look in his eyes and I wondered what depressive imagery was shadowing his mind in that moment. Forced myself not to think about it, knew I couldn't afford to let those kinds of thoughts in.

"If me and my brothers fall I want you to get those girls as far away from here as you can... You make sure they live and you keep your duty to this family, to me, for as long as they live..." If I'd had any doubt in my mind about Tommy's ability to survive anything then it would have been an unreasonable request. But I didn't. So I didn't pay it any mind. Just nodded my head and swore on my life without a second thought. Telling myself it wouldn't matter anyway. Because the war wouldn't last more than a week or two. Because we would come out on top the way we always did.

"It won't come to it Tommy," I said, "but you have my word."

"And mine," said Bonnie a moment later before he rested his chin in the L of his thumbs, hands pressed palm to palm as if in prayer. And perhaps that's what he was doing. I knew I had the urge to return to my father's church and kneel at the alter in that moment. Ask someone to watch over us. Because Tommy hadn't told us the half of it and I knew it. The love which ran deep for those girls. He probably never would express the true extent of the depth to which he cherished them, vulnerable as that would make him. But I knew it because I'd heard the stories and I saw the truth of them now in his eyes when he spoke of them. How the twins had been with their mother the morning she'd passed. How they'd been the last to see her living. How they'd been carried home by their Uncle Charlie, too young to understand what they'd seen. How the brothers would never say it, but always saw their mother in them. As if they were the last connection to her, as if they carried her weathered wild soul with them now. I knew that when Tommy told us we were to die for them if we had to, he was telling us he would die for them too. Knew that if he could he would in a heartbeat. I looked to my left, to Bonnie with his troubled water expression and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he gazed, taciturn, at the legs of Tommy's desk. I wondered how much of those stories he had heard over the years. Wondered whether he knew the weight he now carried on his back. "Now, Bonnie, I've decided you're to take care of Sonya and Isaiah you'll have Sylvia... I don't expect they'll be particularly charmed by this arrangement, but you're canny lads... I'm sure you'll manage.."

And for a moment I'd thought he was finished. He said goodnight to Bonnie, gave him one final piece of advice - told him the girls had forgotten their gypsy roots, told him it might do Sonya good to remember - and then he'd sent him on his way. Told him to rest up, he'd need it.

I'd expected him to say the same to me but he didn't. Instead he had kept me behind a little longer. "Forgive me for sparing the lad the gory details," he nodded to the door Bonnie had just left through, "but I didn't think it'd do any good to worry him... You however, you already know the twins..."

"Hardly Tommy, last time I saw em they were this tall..." I said with a smirk, trying to chuckle though it was hard to conjor amusement.

"So just as well as the rest of us then," he smirked along, "all the same Isaiah, there's rumours going round London about our girls and I don't yet know the truth of em, however the Fens have their mother in their blood so I wouldn't be surprised to learn there's some truth in them..."

"Can't be that bad surely, what trouble can you cause at ballet school eh?" I wasn't sure I should be joking but my uneasy grin was the best I could manage in that moment when I didn't know the severity of their situation.

"I'd hate to think we underestimate them."

"So, lay it on me then, I'll brace myself..."

"Rumours going round that my baby sister Sonya's been in bed with the enemy..." I couldn't hide the surprise from my eyes then, looking back at him with raised brows, trying not to wear my nervous smirk.

"Sonya?" I asked, "fuckin an Italian?" "Freddie Sabini to be exact..." Said Tommy, sucking his cheek in before pouring another drink. "Theres talk of Sylvia getting herself into trouble too, but those rumours are far more vague..." It was the way he shook his head that concerned me, the memory of the girl I'd once known that left a bad taste in my mouth.

The way I remembered them Sylvia had always been the softer girl, a little quieter, a little more pensive, wild like a Shelby with the woodlands in her soul for certain, but frail. Sonya had always been more starlet, more optimistic. There'd always been something melancholy about her sister.

"Our men in London tell me she looks sick, tell me she spends all hours of the night out in Solomons' territory. Course she's safe there, but I don't like the thought of it..."

"Naturally." I swallowed, tried to imagine what those men might mean when they said "sick." "What kind of sick Tommy?" I asked though I'd seen her on Instagram and I already knew the answer.

"Thin," he shrugged, "a real cliche of her genre I suppose."

"And she's spending her nights in Camden Town?" I had a feeling I knew what that meant too. "Could be drugs," said Tommy, "not that I think Alfie's stupid enough to sell to her... She was always a canny lass, sure she could exploit a weakness or two to get what she wants..."

"Think so?" I asked swallowing another gulp of whiskey, letting it warm and burn, trying to remain still and composed despite the thought of the girl I'd always had a soft spot for succumbing to the same darkness which took her mother all those years ago.

"I'd like to hope not but you know me..." "Aye," I nodded, "I know you Tommy." I said before standing up, placing my empty glass on the desk in front of him. "I'll look after Tommy, keep her safe... Didn't need to ask me, I'd have died for those girls in a heartbeat anyway."

"Aye," he nodded, "you're a good lad Isaiah."

She looked ever so tired then as she drifted down the hallway ahead of me. All day Sylvie had me treading eggshells, her volatile streak sharper than I'd expected. She was more wild now than I could ever remember her having been before. When she was much younger, though she still looked too young now. In fact just then as she slipped past Alfie carrying her ballet slippers strung from her feeble wrist, she looked painfully young. Too young to have pulled off any of the stunts she had.

Seeing her like that only sparked my loathing for the man who stood before me all the more. Seeing her appear suddenly paled and vulnerable. Suddenly frail where she hadn't been even just five minutes before.

When she was dancing she was ethereal, some unearthly creature, her beauty uncanny as she spun slowly on the spot, tiny body contorted in ways she didn't really look strong enough to hold. But she must have been, because she had held that dainty pose with such grace. Until he'd scared her and sent her tumbling to the floor, her caving in beautiful despite the fear which shot through me at seeing her waver and fall.

So when I fixed Alfie with that cold, unforgiving glare I meant the threat with which I spoke. Wanted him to know how much I hated him in that moment.

I'd have taken his eyes just for looking at her, the smirk on his lips as he watched her drift down the hallway enough to make me consider killing him there and then.

"You wanna look after her mate..." He said nodding to her flickering shadow as she disappeared round the corner, "looks exhausted if you ask me..."

I narrowed my eyes at him, shook my head with a bitter smirk.

"Fuck off." I said before turning away, following Sylvia back to our room with my hands I'm my pockets and my shirt slung over my shoulder.

I heard his chuckle echo down the hall, knew I was supposed to feel like it was following me. Knew it was supposed to haunt me, send a little shiver down my spine. But I wasn't scared of Alfie Solomons. Not when I knew we were playing the same game for the same side. Alfie wouldn't harm a hair on Sylvia's head, wouldn't harm me as long as I was there to protect her. He wasn't half as insane as he wanted people to believe, he wouldn't start a war he couldn't win. Not if he didn't need to. And not over a teenage ballerina.

When I opened the bedroom door I saw her already lying on the bed, eyes fluttered shut. She'd changed into a black t-shirt and a pair of woollen socks which had slid down her shins and bunched up around her ankles. She wasn't sleeping but when I closed the door behind me and crossed the room to sit in the chair by the door she didn't stir.

She looked peaceful but I knew it wasn't peace which held her so still now. She was tired. To the bone tired. Lying on her front, the t-shirt which covered her hardly covering her at all. She'd not bothered to pull the covers over her and I could see the goosebumps on her thighs.

I remained quiet, lent into the back of the chair to try and get comfortable. Rested my arms on the arms and tilted my head back against the wall. Closed my eyes for a moment but only as long as that. Opened them again when I changed my mind, decided I couldn't take my eyes off her just yet.

So I stole another glance at her soft silhouette, admired the way her edges seemed to fade into the sheets, the way the lamplight glowed on her skin.

And then she stirred, pushed herself up slowly, lethargically turning her head to look back at me from across the room.

"What?" I asked with a smirk when her sleepy eyes locked with mine, she looked so expectant, a little confused. For a moment I couldn't work out why.

"I thought you were tired?" She frowned.

"I'm fine," I shrugged though it was obviously a lie. I was exhausted. Not so much physically - though my muscles ached and my head was undeniably heavy - but emotionally, mentally. She'd put me through the fucking wringer over the last 24 hours and I felt absolutely wired. Head static electric buzzing in a way I knew meant that even if I did shut my eyes and try to sleep, I wouldn't get any rest.

I'd been hoping to burn some of that adrenaline off in the gym earlier but any pent up frustration I'd managed to unleash had quickly been worked up all over again by her. The sight of her teetering so delicately, the realisation of her fragility when Solomons had knocked her balance, fucking Solomons himself and his relentless little jabs. It was taking all my self control not to leather him, to let his comments wash over me, water off a ducks back. Not that I was letting them wash over me. I'd never been very good at letting things go, always a little too quick to rise to a fight, always holding grudges and resentments. And my resentment for Alfie was building by the second. I was holding myself together for Sylvie's sake. Doing as I knew Tommy would tell me - staying calm, rising above the old man's petty jabs - because if I didn't it would be Tommy I had to answer to when shit hit the fan.

If I lost my temper and Sylvia suffered for it, there'd be no forgiveness spared for me.

"I'm fine," I said again when she fixed me with a smirk. "I'm watching the door."

"Bullshit." She coughed, the tinkle of laughter in her voice catching me out.

"Doin my job sweetheart..." I said gritting my teeth, trying not to let her wind me up. It was difficult, she really had a way of winding me up.

"You're falling asleep." She said, her voice deadpan as she let herself fall back down against the pillow, her voice a little muffled by the sheets when she called out to me. "Come on Saiah, share the bed, don't be a pussy..."

Her tone was mischievous, and the sweet sleepy way she had looked at me from the pillow made it so hard to remain frustrated with her. Even when I could tell she was trying to push my buttons.

"Not gonna be much of a bodyguard if you don't get some sleep," she said then, her voice a soft sigh as she yawned and nestled into the bed a little more. I heard the shifting of cotton over cotton and when I opened my eyes and looked back at her I saw that she'd rolled over. That her t-shirt had ridden up and gathered at her hip. That she was looking straight at me with dusky glowing eyes, her dark curls slipped from behind her ear. Her cheek was resting on her hand and her body looked lazy and soft.

I wasn't exactly sure how much sleep I was going to get either way. Lying beside her or watching over her from the armchair in the corner of the room.

It wasn't her teasing however that made me give in to her. It was something else. Something fleeting, something I only really thought I saw. A flicker of doubt in her eyes. A flicker of trouble which reminded me of the Sylvia I knew when she was young, when she was little Fen Shelby running riot through small heath with her sister. When she'd been the twin who shied away, the twin who hesitated. The twin who often looked to me with worried brown eyes when her older brothers would lower their voices and suddenly start speaking in lower tones.

For a moment she looked scared.

Scared and young and so very very tired.

She looked like she needed me to give in, lie down beside her, yawn and drift off like drifting off was easy. So she could kid herself that drifting off was easy.

So I did just that. I stood with a sigh and i gave in.

I crossed the room quietly and kicked my shoes off, sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled my t-shirt off. And when I twisted to reach over her for the duvet I met her gaze again and saw that the Sylvia I knew had gone again. That all her doubt had disappeared, been replaced with that cold smirk, a different kind of trouble glowing in her eyes.

"Don't worry," she said, "I won't tell Tommy..."

And because we were suddenly in such close proximity, and because I was tired and my head was absolutely wired, those words were enough to throw me for a second. Enough to leave me frozen, looking down at her with a small frown on my brow. Enough to remind me how quietly surprised I'd been the morning she'd sat down in the garden, her cheeks angry and flushed. How even with the vitriol in her voice when she'd snapped at me, her prettiness had struck me. How I'd seen her then in a light I'd never seen her before. How I'd been reminded that whilst I'd grown up she had too. Wasn't just Tommy's little sister anymore. Was her own woman, somehow all the more defiant than she ever had been before. We'd always called her Trouble when she was a little girl, because both the twins had been just that. But now she was something more. Trouble in its most tantalising form, a trouble that was irresistible and infuriating in equal measure.

And she was lying there on her back, looking up at me with silent laughter in her eyes. Teasing me.

By the time my brain caught up with the rest of us she was already smirking at me. My silence more amusing to her than anything I could say.

"Why not love? He's already gonna kill me..." I said, propped up on my elbow, watching as she rolled her eyes and told me not to be so dramatic.

"I'm still alive aren't I?" She said nonchalantly, rolling over and nestling into the pillow, drifting off within seconds. Leaving me to fall down beside her, to try not to think about how close to her I was. To try not to dwell too much on our conversation. The murderous thoughts her brother almost definitely held me in for getting her this far.

Because as much as I believed by now that Sylvia would have torn away without me and probably could have gotten this far by herself, I couldn't deny that I'd helped. I'd killed a man for her, stolen a car for her, walked her right into Solomons office and stood by whilst he threatened us both. I'd already made a hundred decisions Tommy would have crucified me for. And whatever happened to us now, it was my fault. In Tommy's eyes his little sister's fate was entirely in my hands.

And as much as she put the fear of god in me with her unpredictable temper, that burning indignant streak, I knew she wasn't like us. Knew she hadn't been raised amid the violence, didn't really know the horrors the rest of us had seen. Because if she had she wouldn't have wanted to see Michael. If she had she wouldn't have left the safety of arrow house.

It was knowing that which made me certain I'd done the right thing in helping her. She'd have tried it without me and she'd have gotten far enough to kill herself. She might not have wanted it, or thought she needed it - or perhaps she did know and that was the root of her cruel streak - but she did need it. My protection that is. Or at least someone who knew her well enough to keep her safe from herself, the Shelby in her.

Looking down at her as she slept then, the sweetness which glowed all innocent on her somnolent expression, I was growing more convinced that perhaps now, after the last 24 hours, I was the only person who really knew her at all. And I didn't really feel like I knew her.

So despite the ache in my muscles and the exhaustion I felt permeating my whole body, my mind too, I couldn't sleep. Not properly.

Couldn't drift off and succumb to my exhaustion the way I realise now Sylvia had been hoping I would.

I couldn't tell how long I'd been lying there waiting for sleep to take me when she stirred. Only that the streets were still dark and the moon through the window still cast her in an ethereal glow. Only that I was still exhausted and the long wait for sleep had done little to calm my temper or my nerves. So when she tried to slip away from the bed instinct kicked in and before she could move I'd thrown an arm around her, dragged her beneath me and rolled on top of her, her hands pinned above her head. My nose brushing hers, eyes flaring unforgiving into her wide dear in the headlight eyes.

But her innocence was feigned and the second she tried to struggle against me and slip away, the second she realised there was no way in hell she could fight me off, her eyes narrowed and her venom took over.

"Get the fuck off me peaky boy..." She snarled, her wicked little smirk and the mischievous light in her eye sparking my temper.

"Are you fucking insane?" I whispered, struggling to swallow down my anger. My heart was racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I knew exactly what she had thought she was going to do and the hatred she had sparked in me then, the resentment made it difficult for me to control myself. "Sneaking off to see Michael? That where you think you're going? Are you fucking stupid?"

"I wouldn't have to sneak if you weren't so up my brothers arse!" She shot back, narrowing her eyes, trying to get under my skin. But I wasn't going to let her take shots at me when in trying to sneak out she'd proven just how naive she really was.

"You might have a bloody death wish Sylvia but I don't want your fuckin blood on my hands." I could feel myself shaking, my fingers wrapped round her wrists too tightly, the weight of my body on top of hers too much. But I was angry, and the girl needed scaring. That much was obvious when she rolled her eyes at me again.

"Solomons is hardly gonna kill me is he." She said, her voice drawling and bored. As if I was over reacting.

"Far worse our enemies would do to you if they got their hands on you sweetheart!" I said fixing her with an unforgiving stare. Her eyes locked with mine. An understanding flickering in them for a second before she tried to glaze over again. Tried to pretend my words hadn't reminded her of something she didn't want to remember.

"You can't stop me seeing him," she said, her whisper still so determined, there was something there though now, something which almost sounded like a real emotion, only served to piss me off more, "I'm not a fuckin child, a few cuts and bruises don't scare me..."

I had to bite back a laugh then. It was spiteful, mirrored the venom she was spitting at me. Might even have wounded her if she'd cared anything for me.

"They left your cousin for dead sweetheart, maybe you should fuckin see him eh, maybe you'd rekindle a bit of respect for the sanctity of life!"

She didn't try to hold her laughter back. Her giggle melodic but cutting. She didn't need to say anything to leave me swallowing down the urge to say something cruel, but she did.

"Have you heard yourself?" She sneered.

"You wouldn't even recognise him Sylvia, it was a thousand times worse than anything you've seen at ballet class."

"Don't patronise me Isaiah."

"Don't be so fuckin stupid then." I hissed back, forcing her back down into the mattress when she struggled again. Her leg squirming under mine because she was trying to kick me. "And if you ain't stupid you're fuckin selfish..."

She held my gaze, unflinching. Her glare cold. Perhaps more unforgiving than my own.

Beneath me she felt so small. I had to force the image of her trembling frame down, has to force myself to forget her dainty form as she had spun slowly, teetering on one leg, ethereal and delicate in the middle of the gym. Had to force myself to forget how sweet she'd been as a younger girl, how sweet I was determined to believe she still was. If I let myself believe she was anything but a liability, a threat which needed to be neutralised somehow, I'd let her do something stupid and we'd both wind up dead.

With my chest pressed to hers I could feel her heart racing against mine. Could feel the tremble of her body, something she didn't want me to feel. I knew I was getting to her even if it didn't look like it. Even if she had that dead behind the eyes kind of Shelby cool to her.

"If the Changrettas get a hold of you, anyone gets hold of you sweetheart, they won't fuckin kill you, won't be worth very much when you're dead... Know what they will do though? They'll chop you up piece by fuckin piece to get to your brothers, you'll break Pols fuckin heart, and Esme and Ada. How many fingers and toes do you think you can lose before you start missing em eh Syl?" I asked gripping her wrist a little tighter than before, raising it to make a point, forcing her to look at her forearm, "think you'll still be dancing swan lake when some Sabini cunts taken a fuckin cleaver to your elbow?" She didn't say a word, just kept glaring back at me, determined not to let me scare her, but I was determined to do just that, determined to try and drive the point home. "Ain't a single fuckin Shelby wouldn't lay their life down for you so you might think about being a bit more fuckin careful with yours eh?"

She held my gaze but she didn't say a word and when she stopped struggling, stopped smirking, stopped speaking back, we simply stayed there, caught in a frozen moment. An unforgiving moment in which the two of shook subtly, me with rage and her with a spiteful determination.

"Trust me sweetheart death is not the worst thing...."

Her lips were pressed together and pouting, my body hovering above her held her sullen features in shadow. I could feel her breath on my skin and knew she could feel my breathing too. My nose skimmed hers as I thought about trying to explain myself again but in the end I didn't.

When she didn't say a word more I gave up. Rolled off her but kept a hold of her wrist. She didn't try to move though. Just lay there completely still. Eyes open, starring up at the ceiling. Her silence leaving me to wonder what she was thinking. Because the look on her face was glazed and cold, dead behind the eyes.

"Go back to fuckin sleep." I grumbled, my sigh accompanied by my hand to my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as I despaired. Already the guilt was prickling away at me, already the shame of having used that quiet kind of violence to stifle her, was sitting heavy in the pit of my stomach. But there wasn't a single thing I'd said to her that wasn't true. I might have been cruel to detail, but I hadn't lied or exaggerated. I'd simply told her the truth her brothers wouldn't. A truth she needed to understand if she was going to cut around pretending she already knew it all.

I lay on my back for awhile just listening. Stewing. Trying not to let her piss me off anymore than she already had. Trying not to let the guilt tug away at my heart strings. Trying to remind myself why I'd behaved as I had. So violently, so unforgiving.

Tried to remind myself it probably didn't matter. She hadn't given up because she was scared, she'd given up because she knew it wasn't reasonable or worth it to keep fighting me. She'd realised that in that moment trapped beneath me she couldn't win. That was all.

If I let go of her wrist she'd probably try again.

If I fell asleep before the sun began to rise she'd probably try again.

But in the end I did fall asleep. To the sound of her faint breathing and the city outside, London's halfhearted dawn chorus. Birds chattering and cooing, cars starting up, traffic sounds. The first footfalls along the pavement. Somewhere amid the rest of the worlds waking up I drifted off and when I awoke once more it was to an otherwise empty bed. A sinking feeling in my stomach. Not quite able to feel let down because I'd known all along that she'd leave me.

I let my hand rest in the space she'd occupied only hours before, flexed my fingers and groaned as I dragged my palm down my face and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Fuck." I hissed through gritted teeth.

I couldn't have slept for very long, an hour or two at best. I had that sluggish kind of sting in my eyes and my throat, that clinging lethargy. The rest had only served to highlight the extent of my exhaustion.

"For fuck sake..." I groaned as I pushed myself up and out of the bed. My heart had already started racing again, I wasn't going to panic about the situation but I was certainly feeling uneasy. Certainly already racing through the options in my head. Which way she'd have gone, how she'd have left. How she might have tried to get to the hospital.

She wasn't stupid enough to walk it, but then if she'd had no other choice. I could only pray she hadn't been naive enough to hail a cab in this end of town.

But as my feet hit the bedroom floor and I let out another sigh of despair I heard something which stopped me in my tracks. That fae like laugh, it drifted to me from the corner of the room.

And when I opened my eyes properly I felt a rush of shame at the way my heart lifted - not just with relief but with something else too.

Because she hadn't left. She hadn't really gone anywhere at all.

"What's the matter Saiah, bad dreams?" She smirked at me from where she was sitting curled up in the arm chair. Her legs dangling over the arm, one ankle crossed over the other, her feet and toes taut and pointed.

She held my gaze, her eyes bright and smug. She could see the panic Id been trying to swallow down and she would be more than happy to use it against me if I let her.

I didn't say a word, just fixed her with the same cold glare I had in the middle of the night. My lips pressed together, hands gripping the edge of the bed to steady myself. Because I wanted to snap at her again. Wanted to say something cruel, take all of my frustration out on her. Because even after everything Id told her last night, she still had the look of a little girl playing games. In fact now there was something spiteful in her eyes and I had a feeling I'd poked the bear. Had a feeling I'd made things a little harder for myself once again.

"Surprised to see you here." I said nodding to the window, "didn't fancy pulling a cat woman then?"

"You told me not to remember?" She said, forcing a pout, managing to hold her wounded look for two seconds before the sorry glow in her eyes was replaced once again by that dull antagonising smirk.

"Give over sweetheart." I said standing up properly, pulling my shirt on and walking to the window to look out over the rooftops and down into the courtyard where there was a young lad sitting on a bench with a cigarette. He looked up when my shadow caught his eye, confirming my suspicions. "Solomons is having us watched..."

"Obviously." She said.

She looked pissed off and when the penny dropped I couldn't help but chuckle.

"That why you're still here?" I asked, unable to help myself poke at her wounded pride, "didn't fancy trying to sneak out after all?" I grinned looking between her and the view from the window. It was just one lad and his dog and I couldn't imagine that would be enough to perturb her after everything she'd already dragged me through.

"Told you why I'm still here dickhead," she sighed slipping from the chair to the rug, crossing the floor to stand just in front of me, arms folded over her chest as she looked up at me sullenly. Her lips a downward curve. Something uncannily sweet about her now that she was stood so close to me. "If I'd wanted to go I'd be gone." She said so plainly that I knew once again it was true.

I thought about meeting her with the same fleeting honesty, a moment of genuine understanding. Thought about apologising for the way id pinned her down in the middle of the night, whispered all those evil images to her to try and frighten her into place. But then I remembered just how quickly she had turned on me before, just how quickly that glazed look in her eyes could take over. How swift the feeling was to drain from her. So I just sneered and pinched her cheek, something I'd regret much later.

"Oh Sylvie," I smirked, not needing to say anything else to upset her or rile her up. Only having to wink and turn away from her to leave her standing there with a quiet angry flush about her. Could feel her glare burning into the back of my skull.

Perhaps if I'd have realised what was waiting for us downstairs I'd have done more to keep her close to me. Perhaps if I'd been a better man I'd have realised that for the briefest of moments I'd seen the old Sylvia trying to drag herself back from the hollow place her mind had locked her away. Perhaps if I'd have reached out to her then, understood that we were on each others team, I'd have been able to keep her close enough to save her.

But I wasn't the better man. I was foolish, with a wounded ego, too easily scorned by her. So when we went downstairs and met Alfie in the kitchen, his feet kicked up on the table, lips wearing a smug little smirk, I didn't put up enough of a fight.

"Morning Alfie." I started already trying to hold onto my patience, already trying to anticipate the shower of shite he was about to start talking.

He didn't say it back, didn't even really look at me.

He was lounging on the sofa which stood in the bay of the window, the morning sunlight washing over him, catching the ginger flecks in his hair. He didn't look much like the suited gangsters I was used to, but then Alfie often didn't. In his white tshirt and a pair of black jeans, Cyril lazing on the sofa with his head in Alfie's lap. He didn't look dangerous and when I turned to glance at Sylvia I felt a disquiet stir inside me, because there was something a little too trusting in her eyes when she looked at him. If not trusting, something worse - wanting.

"I've been ruminating," he began, his fingers combing through Cyrils fur, giving him a gentle scratch as he spoke, "you know what that means lad?" He raised his brow at me. I didn't say anything because I didn't have anything nice to say. "Nah, well, never mind never mind, it's a big word ain't it, Ollie!" He called out suddenly, "Ollie my boy get in here would you!"

I turned slightly to look over my shoulder at the kitchen doorway, catching Sylvia's eyes as I turned. But when she met my gaze she looked straight through me.

A moment later Ollie came running in, a panicked look in his eyes behind his glasses. Even when he corrected himself and stood up straight, there was a nervousness about him as he anticipated Alfie's temper.

"There you are Ollie my boy, clever lad is our Ollie, any word you fancy, anything that stumps you yeah, can always rely on our Ollie to sort you out and see you right, yeah..." Said Alfie, "Ain't that right my boy?"

"Uh yes Alfie," he said adjusting the glasses on his nose. There was a look of nervous understanding in his eyes and I wondered how familiar he was with this routine. Had my question confirmed when he took a little dictionary from his trackie bottoms pocket and opened it. When I glanced back at Sylvia she was smirking, a wry little smile, the same bored look in her eyes.

"Now then, Peaky Boy, just you tell our Ollie what it was I said that confused you yeah, he'll be more than happy to help you out won't you Ollie lad?"

I fixed Alfie with a glare, gritted my teeth. Breathed in through my nose slowly. I didn't answer him, just held his gaze. A quiet challenge I knew I was going to have to lose.

"Well go on peaky boy, this is all for your benefit see, cause in a minute yeah, in a minute I'm gonna carry on discussing my here ruminations on a particular close-to-your-heart-matter and I wouldn't want you to get left behind right, cause that wouldn't be very hospitable of me would it?"

When still I didn't say anything Alfie chuckled. Ollie appeared to be growing more uneasy by the second. When I glanced at Sylvie, who stood a little in front of me, she didn't even really look like she was listening. She looked distant. Like she'd already turned and left the room, occupied her mind with other matters.

"Go on lad don't be shy, what word would you like our boy Ollie to look up for you... He's very fast ain't you Ollie, our literary prodigal son is our Ollie, can do it with his eyes closed standing upsidedown on one leg can't you boy..."

"Uh, yes Alfie..."

I remained as cool as I could, remembering the speech Tommy had given me when he'd asked me to look after his little sister. She was vulnerable even if she didn't believe it herself. And his men in London hadn't been lying. She did look sick, not so much sick as frail. Thin was the word I'd have used too. Stretched too thin, like she was trying to be too much, too many things all at once. Unsustainable was the word I'd use to describe whatever death wish trip she was on. And whether or not Alfie was pissing me off, humiliating me, trying his best to immaculate and demoralise me, I had to put Sylvia first. Couldn't start anything that might put her at risk.

But when I opened my mouth to bow down and give in the word left someone else's lips.

"Ruminating, quick as you can Ollie please," said Sylvia, "since this conversations clearly fuckin scripted..." She added with a little smirk, leaving me with gritted teeth trying not to show my frustration. Trying not to let Alfie see how nervous her erratic behaviour was really making me.

"Mind your manners little Shelby ain't your brother told you about minding your manners... Said it before and I'll say it again, need a fuckin father figure you, it's just fuckin sad at this point... Yeah yeah, alright, what have you got for us then Ollie my boy, Ruminating, R U M I N A T I N G, ruminating..."

The young lad stuttered a little, adjusted his glasses as he held the book up to his face and squinted at the tiny writing on the page. His accent was a lot more sophisticated than Alfie's, in fact he sounded similar to Sylvia and that put a smirk on my face, because he didn't exactly sound like he should have been running with Solomons.

"Uh, To Ruminate, verb... gerund or present participle: ruminating..."

"See, he's a clever boy is our Ollie, I paid to put him through school didn't I, fuckin generous old bastard me, and ain't it paid off..." Alfie spoke over the lad, lowering his voice, addressing the room as opposed to me or Sylvie. "Shame your big brother ain't so generous eh, think what you coulda been peaky boy... All that wasted potential..."

I remained stoic, turned my attention back to the poor lad reciting the dictionary behind us.

"To ruminate is to think deeply about something for example, "we sat ruminating on the nature of existence...." Carried on Ollie, his voice a little shaken in places as his eyes flickered between the three of us and the pages of his book.

"There we go see," began Alfie, giving Ollie a little applause, insisting he took a bow, "and this morning I woke up bright an early yeah, crack of dawn, and I sat outside yeah, cause that's what I like to do in the morning you know, nice cup of herbal tea, lemon and ginger, beautiful aromatics, fuckin lovely stuff is lemon and ginger herbal tea right..." he said gesturing a kiss with his hands as he leant back into the sofa cushions. "So, I like to sit on my bench outside in the courtyard and me an Cyril yeah, we like to listen to the birds for awhile don't we boy..." He said scruffing up the hounds coat as Cyril nestled into his lap. "Cause it's good for the soul that, birdsong, very healing, very grounding... Tell everyone that don't I, birdsong, it's good for the fuckin soul Peaky Boy."

"And so that's what I did this morning right, I thought to myself, here Alf, don't those little birds outside sound lively this morning, all their little chirpin an tweetin, fuckin beautiful right, and I took myself outside and I sat back under the shade of my old hawthorn tree, and I ruminated yeah, I sat ruminating on the nature of our here predicament..."

"And what predicament might that be Alfie?" I asked dryly.

"Oh you know," he said, one arm stretched along the back of the sofa, lazy gesture as he pushed his hair back, "the little gypsy wants to see her cousin don't she Peaky Boy, and she's a stubborn little miss ain't she... Doesn't seem to care that visiting the silly bastard could get you both killed does she... Don't seem to realise what a fuckin 'orrible ugly mess those Italiano cunts made of the poor sod..."

"Doesn't sound like much of a predicament to me Alfie..." I said coldly, trying to reason with him quietly, realising my mistake a moment too late. This was Alfie Solomons. You didn't reason with him, you only showed him your weakness, told him what you didn't want him to know.

"Well you see the thing is peaky boy, I'm doing my best to be hospitable here, ain't all that often a notoriously miserable old man such as myself finds himself with guests is it, better make the most of it hadn't I?" He offered me a little sneer, a taunting light in his eyes I'd have shot clean off his face if I could have, if I hadn't had to think of Sylvie first. "And well it occurred to me whilst I was ruminating yeah, that keeping the little princess all locked up here, well that ain't all that hospitable... Is it?"

"You're going to take me to see Michael?" Asked Sylvia. The hope in her voice almost broke my heart. Certainly struck fear into my heart.

"Yeah," he said, "yeah why not eh, a little Alfie/Sylvie bonding time yeah... You'll have to stay here mind lad," he said to me, finger pointed towards my chest, "I need some kind of guarantee don't I, you'll have to play collateral I'm afraid, case any of your lot get the wrong end of the stick and start throwing accusations around."

"Fuckin no chance..." I grinned in disbelief, shaking my head and turning to Sylvia, but Sylvia wasnt looking at me. She was looking at Alfie, her eyes glowing with hope.

"Oh come on lad you know how it is, can't just go galavanting around town with Shelby royalty when there's a war on, and not keep some kind of bargaining chip safe at home... You know how it is lad? She don't seem too enamoured with you right now either... Coupla hours apart might do you good yeah? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, ain't that what they say..."

"I said no, fuckin no..."

"I'm going." Said Sylvie without looking at me. Leaving me to freeze, speechless and full of dread.

"There we go see, look at that eh Peaky Boy, you see her face, how's an old softie like me sposed to say no to that delightful little smile?" He asked me, his eyes challenging me quietly to fight him, to try and deny Sylvie something he'd already promised her. The hope he'd dangled in front of her.

I was the enemy now. As simple as that.

"You said it yourself Alfie, she could get herself killed..." I started, knowing that nothing I said now would change Sylvia's mind. Feeling a devastating kind of desperation rip through me when I looked back at her and saw the decision had already been made.

"I'm sure Alfie can handle a couple Italians..." She said fixing me with a cruel determination. Daggers in her eyes. And I wondered then which of my actions had been the final nail in this coffin. Had it been the way I'd spoken to her this morning, so unforgiving, spiteful tone, or had it been last night when I'd pushed her down into the mattress, kept her trapped beneath me as I tried to strike the fear of god into her. When had I made myself the enemy? When had she decided to put her trust in him and not me?

"Oh aye, course I can, couple of Changretta's, a sprinkling of Sabinis, piece of piss, piece of pumpkin bloody pie, don't you worry peaky boy, I'll keep her safe..."

I swallowed a lump in my throat, fist clenched at my side.

"I'm not letting you go alone Sylvia!"

"You fuckin are mate those are the parameters as laid out by me, master of this here fuckin house... You either wait at home like a good little pup whilst me and the little miss head out on the town, or she don't fuckin go... Now I don't know about you but if it were up to me, I'd pick my fuckin battles yeah..."

"Sylvia..." I groaned.

"I'm going to see my cousin Isaiah..."

"For fuck sake girl! I'm not about to let you go an get yourself killed!"

"Oi, Peaky boy!" Alfie suddenly bellowed, his voice silencing the both of us, ringing out around the kitchen, startling Ollie so that he dropped his dictionary and began scrambling for it on the floor. "You don't fuckin swear at girls like that who do you think you are?" Snapped Alfie, squaring up to me, his finger jabbing into my chest as I stared coldly back at him. Met his eyes with a silent challenge. "Raising your voice at young girls like that, fuckin disgusting..."

I looked straight through him and then turned on him, crossed the room to Sylvia. For a moment I was furious, gripped with rage. Rage at the humiliation she was forcing me to endure, rage at her indignance, her selfishness. The anger sparked in me every time Alfie opened his useless mouth.

And then all at once I wasn't.

In the second I snatched at her arm and saw it - the bruise I'd left on her arm the night before, the shape of my unforgiving grip in a bracelet around her wrist - I lost just enough fight to give up.

I picked up her hand and turned her palm over in my mine. I felt the guilt twist inside me when I looked down at the mark I'd left. Felt like a hypocrite as I tried to plead with her once again.

"Sylvia I gave your brother my word... I ain't about to break it by letting you go running off round London with a f... psychopath..."

I looked down at her, met her cold eyes again. They were full of shadows. She was out of reach again and I could feel the hopelessness returning to me. The heavy feeling in my heart. Because she was determined and unfeeling and it hurt to see her so removed. Not quite a ghost but almost. Not quite a girl either. Knowing I'd pushed her into this corner. Knowing that if I'd been a little more gentle things might have been different.

"Now to be fair mate, to be fair right, she was already doing that wasn't she... Running round London with a murderous bastard... There ain't no denying that's what she was doing is there?"

I ignored Alfie. Sylvie just smirked. Held my gaze and smirked. I wondered if she could feel a thing. Had to lie to myself and believe it was all just an act. Believe I hadn't seen this look in her brothers eyes just before he gave the order to kill.

"Gave your brother my word..." I said again, losing all hope in the silence that followed. Losing all hope in the moment I saw her lips move around the words.

"Fuck my brother."

"Now now darlin there's no need for that eh, the boys only followin orders ain't he, like he said he just wants what's best don't you Peaky Boy... No need to swear eh, no need at all..." Said Alfie stepping up behind her, his hands on her shoulders, smoothing down her arms as he met my gaze with a smug glint in his eyes. "Now don't you worry Peaky Boy, she'll be perfectly safe with good old Alfie right, I'll look after her I promise... In fact you know what, you know what... You have my word."

And I knew there was no fighting them then. Knew that Sylvia had cut herself off from me, that she was out of reach now. Unfeeling and determined. I knew then that I'd lost her, that if anything happened to her now it was my fault. That I hadn't done enough for her and yet couldn't do anymore.

"Alright little darlin," said Alfie with a much sweeter smile when he looked down at her, his hand rubbed her back in a smooth circle and I felt my hatred for him twist deep in my stomach. "You run along and get your things, here I'll even let you pick the car eh, how about that?"

Taglist (sorry if you're on here and don't want to be I lost my taglist for trouble and I'm away and working from mobile so just had to copy the old one for everything)

@inalovesrabbits-blog

@zablife

@itsghostgirlyo

@marwwfairy

@toddlerbodybag

@everysage

@tommyshelbyswhore

@kxnnxy

@starrykitn

call-sign-shark

Only-malala

galactic3a

darkcastle167

feyresqueen

[saints-who-never-existed]

Rereading The Terror

Chapter Forty-Three: Crozier

This chapter covers Fitzjames and Crozier's excursion to the cairn at Victory point and oddly enough, I don't have as much so say about it as I thought I might. Nevertheless, I persist!

Between Crozier literally falling asleep while walking and rambling unintentionally about his Memo Moira and visions of the future, and the two Captains becoming half-lost in the thick fog, there's a definite eeriness to the start of this chapter.

There are also storms approaching and thunder booming above them. Crozier makes a terrible sort of half-joke about it all: "What could be worse than a thunderstorm in late April with the temperature still below zero?" "Cannon fire," said Crozier. "Cannon fire?" "From the rescue ship that came down open leads all the way from Lancaster Strait and through Peel Sound only to find Erebus crushed and Terror abandoned. They're firing their guns for twenty-four hours to get our attention before sailing away." "Please, Francis, stop" said Fitzjames. "If you continue I may vomit. And I've already done my vomiting for today."

They find Gore's note and observe the mistakes thereon before starting to add to it ("Sir John must have been as tired and confused as we are now." "No one has ever been as tired and confused as we are now" said Fitzjames). And as if to prove that point, he falls asleep and snores softly with his head on his knees while Crozier continues to write.

When roused to sign his name, Fitzjames notices that Crozier hasn't written of where they intend to go next. Crozier begins to explain his feelings on this - how he hasn't really decided where they're going and how it's all completely hopeless anyway. But then, they're interrupted by the sound of something circling them in the fog.

Crozier is the only one armed and he raises his pistol to fire at the thing in the fog, calm and collected. He specifically tries to aim high "so as not to strike that face." which strikes me as odd - why would he want to avoid its face?

He fires and only then do we see that it wasn't Tuunbaq circling them at all, merely a curious juvenile polar bear that, startled, immediately runs away back into the fog. As all tension dissipates, Crozier and Fitzjames descend into hysterical fits of laughter together.

As that laughter subsides, we get a beautiful wee exchange to close the chapter out. "You know what I would give my left bollock for right now?" "What?" "A glass of whiskey. Two glasses, I mean. One for me and one for you. The drinks would be on me, James. I'm standing you to a round." "Thank you, Francis. And I'd lift the first toast to you. I've never had the honour of serving under a better commander or a finer man." Which is just so incredibly lovely! It's reframing a previously very negative and self-destructive thing in Crozier's life in a new positive light. It's no longer something he would do alone to drown his sorrows but something he'd share with others in love and good faith. It's no longer a mechanism for him to endlessly mull over the lifelong disrespect he's received but a mechanism through which he can show respect and have it returned to him in kind. The thing that was previously a symbol of doom for him is suddenly a symbol of hope. And it's then and only then that he adds a final addendum to the Victory Point note: "And start tomorrow, 26th, for Back's Fish River."

[just-kit-ink]

To my followers who love her, on the 100th anniversary of Walt Disney Studios, Kitty, (now in her 50s) and her family are invited as the guests of honour to a party for animators and their cartoon characters. Every character ever created by the studio is there. She's hesitant to turn up, she was an animator a long time ago after all but with some encouragement from her family she decides to go. She dresses smartly and to her surprise there is a fancy car waiting for her outside their house. The chauffeur explains that the escort is courtesy of Mickey and Minnie themselves. Maisie excitedly clutches her mother's arm and they arrive to a bustling reception.

She shakes hands with old friends, makes some new connections and embraces the toons she's known and helped since she was young.

•Prince Charming and Cinderella greet her at the staircase and Kitty asks how they and their mice are doing. In response, Jacque-Jacque and Gus run through riding Lucifer the cat like a horse.

•Dumbo swoops overhead and gives her a wave with his trunk.

• Baloo sings on stage with Thomas O'Malley and Scat Cat, dedicating a song to the guests of honour.

•Ariel and Moana are chatting in the foyer and smile brightly as she returns from touching up her make-up.

•She runs into Ursula in there who was reapplying her mousse and gossiping about which Prince and Villain look the most dashing tonight.

•She gets a similar gracious nod from Maleficent and the Wicked Queen.

•Hades pulls on the old "You look familiar kid, do I know you? Ah! Amazon chick, right?"

•She is given a warm reception from the animals: Scar, Shere Khan, Shenzi Banzai and Ed, Kaa, Bagheera, Robin Hood and Little John, Kenai, Iago, Sebastain, Louis, Ray, Bambi, Thumper, Big Bad Wolf, the Three Little Pigs, Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps are just a few of the animal toons she chats with that night.

•Anastasia and Drizella do fangirling over her outfit. They also praise how well she's aged.

•The Genie appears out of a nearby ink well to surprise everyone and when he sees her he gives the biggest smile. "Kitty Hawkins!" *transforms into a cat and a hawk in the space of a second* "I knew it was you Sweetheart, I never forget a face except my own!" *takes off his face* "I'd forget my own head if it wasn't attached!" He lifts it off his shoulders and Ichabod Crane faints.

•Elsa and Anna come up to speak to her when they sense her nerves. Elsa's a bit overwhelmed by the crowds too.

•Bruno Madrigal apologises profusely when one of his rats jump onto her shoulder and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn't mind and even asks how he got on with family group therapy.

•She gets a hug from John Silver.

•Milo Thatch is there with his wife Princess Kidagakash and they talk about languages. In Dutch.

•Mr Smee brings Captain Hook a drink. He's a surprisingly giggly drunk.

•Belle and her have a terrific catch up. She also thanks her very much for helping the Beast become comfortable with his drawn form.

•Lumier helps to watch Maisie and calls her "la petite madamoiselle."

•Merlin knows how to make everyone a good cup of tea and mix cocktails. The Mad Hatter is behaving more erratically than usual.

•Kitty's husband is shaking hands with a lot of anti-heros and even a villain or two. They are incredibly grateful to him for helping them clear their names and turn their lives around.

•Snow White recieves a standing ovation for singing. She invites Asha, the newest Disney character up on stage and gives her a hug to quell her fears about not being welcomed.

•Kitty and Meg roast the executives behind their back.

•At some point in the evening, a cake is wheeled out and Tigger jumps out of it holding a "Happy 100 Years!" sign.

Kitty is sipping her drink and enjoying the armosphere when a hush falls as Mickey and the organisers give a special toast to all who turned up tonight. He thanks Scrooge McDuck for the funding, Tiana's Place for the catering, Daisy Duck for the decorations...suddenly Kitty hears her name. And a round of applause. She's being honoured and thanked by all the cartoons she ever helped mentally and emotionally. Her family are cheering.

"Hooray Honey! Congratulations!"

"Yay Mom!"

She smiles. It's all worth it. It was always worth it.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

In honour of finally getting a date for the new Taskmaster season, here's a clip of John Robins' approach to pointless games.

It's from a radio show feature called Made Up Games, which they started doing a few years into their radio show. At first they did Winner Plays On, a competitive quiz feature that was my favourite thing about the first 150 episodes, but they did eventually have to retire it as they were running out of topics. They replaced it with Beta Bet, a word game that I found great fun while it lasted, but they had to retire that because Elis was so bad at it (and John was quite good at it, but mostly Elis was bad at it) that John kept winning so easily. So because every good show needs some kind of competition, they replaced that with a feature called Made Up Games, which is a direct rip off of the Bored Games feature from the Russell Howard + Jon Richardson radio show, though those features were played nine years apart and I guess no one has a patent on the concept of inventing games so it's fine.

Basically, listeners write in with the little games they've made up, John and Elis play one per episode. In this episode, the game is to put a pile of coins on a receipt, and try to pull out the receipt without moving any coins. Most of the games they feature are less visual and therefore better radio than this one, but I cut this one out because it seemed so much like the sort of thing they do on Taskmaster (it's almost exactly the same as one of the season 6 tasks), and the way John handled it is so much the way I'm hoping he'll approach every task on Taskmaster.

I don't know what John Robins will show up on Taskmaster. I am currently immersed in the radio show circa 2018, and I realize I am familiarizing myself with the John Robins of the past, whom I hear is quite different than the current John Robins, a man who has quit drinking and maybe got his shit together. I have also expressed that I quite like the John Robins who was bitter and annoying, so I hope he hasn't changed too much, and we still get a bit of that on Taskmaster.

Having now tried to spend some time not drinking alcohol myself (and... not perfectly succeeding, but mostly succeeding, still keeping it up), I've got to say I'm pretty sure that not drinking alcohol doesn't necessarily make a person less miserable or less annoying. Quite the opposite in my personal experience. You can stop drinking alcohol and still be really really annoying.

And the level of annoying in the clip I posted above is really quite tame. I know it's too much to hope that Taskmaster John Robins will reach Winner Plays On-Brian May-gate levels of annoying. He'll probably have more restraint than that, being older and wiser. But I'd still be happy with the lower, more manageable "I beat you at this pointless game and need to make sure everyone noticed that I stared right at you while I did it" levels of annoying. I think that's a reasonable level of annoying to expect him to reach on Taskmaster.

This is actually an episode in which later on we got a very rare instance of Elis James slightly losing patience with the levels of annoying to which he's subjected on a regular basis, which I found quite funny, and I cut out and uploaded the clip before realizing it's not funny out of context. It's only funny if you've listened to Elis be unbothered by a million little annoying Robins comments over several years (Elis James is a saint, by the way, he's an all right comedian but deserves to win a Chortle Award in the category of Extreme Patience), and then this one fairly innocuous little gripe gets him to finally push back. But here it is anyway since I've already uploaded it.

I actually find it a bit weird that I'll be watching John Robins circa 2023 in a couple of weeks - I've been carefully going through all his stuff in chronological order (not just the radio show, but trying to listen to his other podcast appearances and watch his few TV things alongside the radio chronology), and I'll suddenly jump forward in time by five years. I just hope he's still competitive and snippy and annoying. Overly, pointlessly competitive, to the point of sacrificing making entertaining TV. I want everyone on the special secret little internet forums to fucking hate him. That's the kind of Taskmaster I like to see.

[sleepy-achilles]

In honour of the start of pride month, can we have hbtaker just being gay for each other? For the culture? 🤲🏼

Not gonna lie, I had no idea what to write. But then I remembered both me and shawn are Pansexual so, imma just write what we know best. Simping for big deadman.

Hbtaker- It's pride month, so no. You do not get a title.

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

Taker murmurs to himself as he lifts the steel steps, moving them to the ringside. He glances up to see Shawn laid across the ropes. "Any chance you'll be helping boy toy?" Taker asks. They are rehearsing some new tag team moves. Well atleast that's what Taker thought. "Oh I'm enjoying the view big boy" Shawn smirks sitting up. "Oh really?" Taker asks raising a eyebrow. "Oh really" Shawn nods. Taker grabs the top ropes causing the smaller to wobble as he pulls himself up. Shawn watches as he climbs into the ring and stands in the corner infront of him. Taker places his hands either side of the blonde.

"Can I help you?" Shawn whispers, a blush building on his face. "Just enjoying the view" Taker mutters tilting his head down to be level with the man. "Thats my saying" Shawn frowns. "Shut up" Taker chuckles before pulling the man into a kiss. Shawn moans before grasping the back of takers head and deepening the kiss. Taker pulls back. "I love you but we need to train" Taker mutters. "Awe I love you too" Shawn smiles running his fingers through takers hair.

"I'd love you both to stop" a voice groans. Shawn looks back to see Kevin and Goldust. "Jealousy is a terrible thing kev" Shawn smirks. "Oh trust me lush, I'm not jealous" Kevin chuckles. "Speak for yourself" goldust whispers. "How can we help you boys?" Taker asks. "Its pride month and you boys are celebrating with me" goldust smiles. "No way" Taker groans. "Ah shit you mentioned that a few weeks ago, I forgot to mention it to taker. I told goldie we'd go out drinking with him at a gay bar. Kev is looking after John and Lee. Cmon it'll be fun" Shawn pouts.

Taker groans. "Fine but the minute something I don't like happens we are leaving" Taker warns. "Yessir!" Shawn smiles hugging him. "Result!" Goldust cheers. Taker hides his face against shawns neck. He will regret it.

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

Noted-

What a cliff hanger.

I'm evil. Ik

It's the pansexual in me

[incorrect-house-of-nine]

Dealing with Varun is a Mercy compared to this guy.

Ianthe n Kiriona prolly think Jody got off lightly, not having to deal with John going through his grief and vodka fueled slut era.

Imagine Jody having to deal with spotting her father carrying his crumpled trousers n shoes creeping out of John's bedroom, beginning his walk of Shame at 5:30am.

She'd have an aneurysm, then turn up at Camilla's with a decanter of whiskey.

Judith: I have seen unspeakable horrors. We are going to drink in honour of Marta, until I forget or pass out or both."

Camilla: Why me?

Judith: It was you or Tridentarii.

Cam: Still can't trust yourself around her?

Judith: No. I can not. And I'd prefer keep the high ground at the next family dinner.

Imagine if Judith actually managed to become a Lyctor, yeah sure oh she'd go through terrible grief etc etc but worse than all she would get an aneurysm seeing the way John Gaius acts

and what is she gonna do about it??? Call god for help?? He's already there and he's eating peanuts in his underwear

[maliciouslycreative]

RIP John Dunsworth.

I never thought I'd enjoy Trailer Park Boys. It was crass drug humour with characters that are painfully stupid. Yet I wound up catching a fee episodes and god there was just something so charming about it. Mr Lahey was always one of my favourites. I find myself quoting him almost as much as I quote Ricky. I don't know how many times I've made a coworker lose their shit after saying "the shithawks are nesting".

So thank you John Dunsworth for bringing to life such a great character. You will be missed.

[ufo-eyesss]

wild - an elliot x olivia playlist

In honour of the 500th episode, I've made a Livejournal-style mixtape for Olivia and Elliot to feed your nostalgia. Complete with album cover, track listing and that thing where I highlight the lyrics that really resonate. Spotify playlist: wild - elliot x olivia

Miracle Love - Matt Corby

We got carried away So much love that I was blind to And I made my mistakes And you put them all behind you Can we bring back that miracle love?

9 Crimes - Damien Rice

It's the wrong time But she's pulling me through It's a small crime And I've got no excuse

Wild - John Legend & Gary Clark Jr.

Oh, fire, you set me on fire I swear you're the only one I'd take on this ride

Some Unholy War - Amy Winehouse

If my man was fighting some unholy war I would be behind him Straight shook up beside him With strength he didn't know It's you I'm fighting for

Do I Wanna Know - Arctic Monkeys

Have you no idea that you're in deep? I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found That makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat Until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee

Hold Back The River - James Bay

Tried to keep you close to me But life got in between Tried to square not being there But think that I should have been

ocean eyes - Billie Eilish

I've been walking through a world gone blind Can't stop thinking of your diamond mind Careful creature made friends with time He left her lonely with a diamond mind

Until We Bleed - Kleerup & Lykke Li

You wasted your times, on my heart You've burned And if bridges gotta fall, then you'll fall too Doors slam Lights black You're gone Come back

[urfavouritecrime]

hii! it's me again <3

yeah, the long live/nyd performances makes me really emotional too!

ooh also, is it just me or does Taylor look like Snow White in the wildest dreams mv?

yesss, I'd love to exchange spotify accounts! What's your favourite song from sour?

oooh that's a tough one! My favourite music video has to be Blank Space, it's so unhinged sdhfsdf

for the outfit, I guess it'd be the red dress in the lwymmd video (where she's sitting on a throne drinking tea)

what's your favourite track five? Alsooo, if you had to pick between the rep tour and the folklore long pond, which would you pick?

Have an amazing day! <3

(also dw about the answering the asks, take your time bestie)

she really does look like Snow White omg! And the scene with the yellow dress billowing in the wind is just so aesthetically pleasing for some reason.

I think my favourite song from Sour is probably either Traitor or Favorite Crime but ofc Driver's License has it's own position of honour. Wbu?

Yesss the Blank Space MV is such a mood, I love watching it and the red throne dress is just so badass.

I think my favourite track 5 would be All Too Well but Dear John would be a close second. What would your top track 5 be?

If I had to pick I'd probably choose Rep Tour but the Long Pond sessions are pretty fun to watch too!

[livlaughlovee]

Thank you my darling ❤

Nicknames?

Too many. Liv, Liz, LaLa, Habibi, Mon Amour, Livvy, Libby(¿), Poggy(don't ask)

Real Name?

*heaves* Olivia

Zodiac?

Pisces

Favourite Musician/Group?

Queen, Fleetwood Mac, The Beatles, The Darkness, Harry Styles, Elton John, Blondie, Motley Crue, ABBA, David Bowie and many many more.

Favourite Sports Team?

I don't really like Sport but I guess I have to say England Football. I'll pick the ladies team cause they kick ass.

Other Blogs?

None, I'm afraid.

Do I get asks?

Occasionally. I love receiving them but I'm quite glad I don't have too many because I'd feel awful if I didn't answer them all.

How many blogs do I follow?

1012

Tumblr crushes?

Myself.

Lucky number?

2

What am I wearing right now?

Granny pjs! Like, silky-sorta button up top and long bottoms. I think they have Bambi stuff on them and they're a bearable pink colour. V comfy and I recommend Granny pjs.

Dream vacation?

Montreux probably. I've been close to there and it seems so beautiful. It meant a lot to Freddie and I'd like to honour that and see his statue. I love that area of the world and from what I did get a glimpse of, I loved.

Dream car?

I know nothing about cars. A black one lmao.

Favourite Food?

A Greggs sausage roll

Drink of choice?

TEA TEA TEA TEA !!!!

Instruments?

Currently learning electric guitar. Can play a little acoustic, a little keyboard and I could definitely play the recorder for you until you scream and beg for mercy.

Languages?

Oui oui. I speak English and (some) French.

Celebrity crushes?

Oh boy... The Bo Rhap Cast, Queen, The Beatles, Harry Styles, Debbie Harry, Stevie Nicks, David Bowie and so so so many more but my heart definitely belongs to Roger Taylor. Always.

Random fact?

I once got John from Jedward to say that he's my dad on an Instagram Live for a laugh (I think I also got Edward to say it but I can't remember now lol)

I feel bad for tagging so many people in so many things already today so anybody can do this 💞

rules: answer 21 questions and tag 21 people you would like to get to know better. 

Thanks so much for the tag @deacyblues and @imqueenswhore! I love you both 💖

Nicknames?

Mari

Real name?

Mary

Zodiac?

Taurus

Favourite musician/group?

Hmmm Queen, The Beatles, The Monkees, Elton John, ABBA to list a few

Favourite sports team?

NBA: Boston Celtics

Olympics: USA

FIFA: Mexico

Others blogs?

It’s just this one and my main @whatmarisays which you could follow if you’re interested in my other shitposting

Do I get asks?

Rarely. I answer everyone that comes in. My ask box is always open to you all.

How many blogs do I follow?

199

Tumblr crushes?

All of you lovely guys

Lucky number?

7

What am I wearing right now?

Currently a USA Swimming t-shirt, leggings and a burgundy hoodie

Dream vacation?

Italy for sure. It’s been on my dream vacation list since 2011. I’d love to visit Mexico as well. Almost all my family lives there and I’ve never been able to visit.

Dream car?

Never really thought about it. Can I just say a nice sensible car that gets me from Point A to Point B?

Favourite food?

Definitely Mexican with 2nd place going to Italian

Drink of choice?

Coffee (iced all the way unless it’s under 50°F, then I switch to hot) and water

Instruments?

I play the flute and used to play piano. I would love to restart piano and learn guitar

Languages?

English, Spanish, intermediate Italian

Celebrity crushes?

To make it easier on all of us I’m just going to say the BoRhap boys. But who are we kidding, Joseph Mazzello owns my heart.

Random fact?

I am a big true crime person. I love watching documentaries, reading books, articles, podcasts.

Off the top of my head I'm tagging my darlings (and don’t feel obligated to do this at all): @imasupersonicwoman @rogerinamelinamaydeaconxoxo @1waveshortofashipwreck @anotheronebitesthedick

[maraschinocheri]

I know I'd happily read all the novels on Killian as Valjean. Oh Ginger, this is going to be something quite special. I can't wait to see it.

OH JOIN ME IN THE CAN’T-WAITING ROOM.

So! The novel I’m absolutely not writing about Killian stepping in as Valjean at cast change in June. Like the novel I absolutely didn’t write about Gblags’ Drink with Me, I’m just going to knock this out and not overthink it. Not least because I’ve said so much about it before, and because if I do think too hard about it, there will be Emotions Business. This is long, whoops. No one is surprised.

First, this is A Good Time to do it. Not necessarily because of the lack of roles in London now for him, but that is a factor. A bigger factor is that vocally and physically, he’s so ready now. He’s spent the last year and a half on cruise control vocally—Charlie is no stretch in terms of the singing, and Soul of a Man is a song-hill Killian could climb in his sleep; Jackie in Donegal wasn’t strenuous, either—and since The Commitments he’s learned how to take care of his voice. While in Memphis he made leaps and bounds as an actor, and while KB was no challenge in that respect, he at least has retained the stronger grip on himself he found. Since February of this year, he’s also made some definite changes that now have him quite fit; I think he is nearing some of the best possible shape of his professional life, and right on time, too.

But then he’s not entirely unfamiliar with the physical needs of the role, of course. I have no count of how many times he covered Valjean between between 2009–2011, but it was no doubt enough to give him plenty of information on the toll the role takes. The songs will not trouble him, that’s a near-as-dammit certainty; even if he doesn’t have the bell-like clarity now that you could hear in his Valjean then, there will be an even more wonderful richness and maturity to his singing that wasn’t there before. I’ve heard and read arguments that he was just too young, and I get that—there is a case to be made that he’s still too young now, but again, see below re: available roles in London, and a guy’s got to pay the mortgage—but there’s not been a better time than now, vocally; really, truly—everything since The Commitments has been building to this. Killian grew up in this show over three years, and left it soaring but still young; think of everything he brings back to it now.

So what do we potentially have to look forward to? Obviously a glorious Bring Him Home (I expect I will die, and so will be sure to plan for an aisle seat so my death and resurrection for The Final Battle cause the least possible distraction), but also a marvelous Who Am I?—he’s always sounded lovely in that one, though the last note always seems to surprise him—and a potentially thrilling Confrontation (his Confrontation with Norm Lewis is my hands-down all time favourite version of the song), and a soaring final note on One Day More. I don’t think he ever quite got a proper handle on Valjean’s Soliloquy, so I am very much looking forward to him working through it and finding his way. His weakness as a cover was the finale, but that I think was a product of youth, and he couldn’t find the elderly, desperately exhausted Valjean inside himself at that time. My guess is that it will be drawn out more easily now. Smaller moments to look forward to would be the interaction with Fantine and, to a lesser extent, Cosette; Killian’s an incredibly generous actor with women, and capable of showing great tenderness when called for and sometimes even when not. For my part, it will be a joy to actually feel invested in some of the early scenes of the show again. And I hope beyond hope for an excellent take on my favourite lines of Valjean, in the scene where he lets Javert leave the barricade. I’m not in love with the past few years’ blocking choices in that scene, but if anyone can make it work for me, it would be Killian.

The only thing I would have loved even more would be to have Thaxton back as his Javert—my DonnellyThaxton2K15 campaign banners still wave in the metaphorical breeze, as each could have no better foil than the other—but we can’t always get what we want. eta: Of course I wake up to find Hayden Tee will be playing Javert. I am very, very pleased. What I had written here about Jeremy Secomb is no longer relevant.

(On a side note, my hope is that in rehearsals they bring John Caird and Kate Flatt back in again, to rein in the Chris Key-based histrionics; the wonders they worked on Revolve 29 were incredible. I’ll just hope for the best. Killian knows the Brick, and well, and I think he will honour what he can.)

And now for some quick dips in the shallow end of the pool: First, I am so ready for the costumes, too; I love Valjean’s Monsieur Madeleine garb, and oh, the waistcoats. I will die, but what a way to go. Second, while we may never again know the glory of Killian’s Enjolocks, my hope is that they don’t wig him poorly as the older Valjean. And please, don’t let him pull a Lockyer and pretty much shave his head. Third, we could get the beard back. I am delighted. Not least because it would be so much better than the fake beard on Sexy Jesus Valjean back in the day:

Almost last and very least, when I jokingly said the time is now, the day is here, I really wasn’t joking that much. A quick survey of the West End season coming up doesn’t offer many open doors for Killian—the parts are really just not there—and while I would never call the role of Jean Valjean a stopgap, it is at least something comfortable on more than a few levels while he gets his feet back in London. And if he stays a full year—no guarantees of that, of course—then he will walk back out of the Queens almost exactly 10 years after he first took the stage before an audience, Swing'ing the Joly track on the first night of LM 08–09.

(I would love to know what the young SuperSwing who’d been cleaning his bathroom when he first got the call to cover Valjean that night would think if you’d told him he’d eventually be taking over as principal in under a decade. To tell the truth, that SuperSwing would probably say you’re shitting me, but also be thinking to himself, well, yeah, obviously, that’s the plan. The unprofessional professional is as ambitious as any other lad, after all.)

Anyway. This is far too long already, but I will say this: Killian knows how much he owes to this show, and has never stopped loving it, and his investment in it has already been rewarded by the promotion to Enjolras, by the featuring in the 25AC and the film, by the Oscars—it goes on. When he urged the powers that be to give him more to do as Swing rather than just shift him to Grantaire in his second year, I think that was the first step of so many that brought him to this point, to this glorious point.

During my DonnellyThaxton2K15 campaign ridiculousness, I said essentially this, and I hold to it: a return on [Killian’s] part would be a chance for [one] of the many, many London casts’ most emotionally-invested actors to leave everything [he has] on the floor. I also said it was a dream, and one that has little to no guarantee of coming true, but it’s deliriously good fun to think about. Occasionally dreams force themselves true, and I am so, so thrilled.