#women takes mens last name or maybe their husband adds her. Which each got form their father | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

terramythos · 3 years

Text

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 15 of 26

Title: Tehanu (Earthsea Cycle #4) (1990)

Author: Ursula K. Le Guin

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Fiction, Third-Person, Female Protagonist

Rating: 8/10

Date Began: 6/24/2021

Date Finished: 6/30/2021

Decades after The Tombs of Atuan, Tenar decided to settle down and live an ordinary life on the shepherding Isle of Gont. Now a farmer’s widow, she adopts a disfigured and horrifically abused child, who she names Therru. When a giant dragon deposits a grief-stricken Ged at her doorstep, Tenar finds herself in a strange situation as she cares for her old friend and her adopted daughter. But threats from Therru’s past and a malevolent force on the island soon threaten Tenar’s small family.

Despair speaks evenly, in a quiet voice.

Content warnings and spoilers below the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Violence and death. Mentioned murder. Severe child abuse. Descriptions of traumatic injury and disfigurement. Mentions of r*pe, including of children. Trauma, sexism, and ableism are explored in depth.

Tehanu is a much different book than the trilogy that precedes it. Perhaps this is unsurprising, considering the 17-year gap between this book and The Farthest Shore. I’d describe the Earthsea series as “grounded fantasy”. While all of them take place in a magical world, the thesis of each book is universal; the fantasy always comes second. Tehanu takes this idea to an extreme. The story is about everyday life as a common woman in the Earthsea world, with fantasy barely factoring in. The pacing is intentionally slow and introspective, which is something I normally don’t like, but Le Guin is a consistent exception.

Key characters from the previous books make an appearance. Obviously Tenar is the biggest return, absent since The Tombs of Atuan. The Tenar in this book is older and much more mature, having decided to live a simple life in spite of her adventures and accomplishments. Ged returns, but he’s a shell of his former self, as he mourns the loss of his magic and the man he used to be. Even King Lebannen (formerly Arren, the main character of The Farthest Shore) makes a brief appearance, and is quite a palate cleanser after the horrible men throughout the rest of the book.

Probably my favorite aspect of the novel is the fact that these characters stand well on their own without magic to prop them up. Tenar explored the terrifying freedom she won in The Tombs of Atuan; got married, settled down, had kids — but still finds herself at a loss on what to do with her life after her husband dies. Ged is in a similar boat; he’s gone from an almost mythic character to an ordinary man, and like Tenar finds himself at a crossroads in life. Other characters embody this idea of transformation and uncertainty; Therru’s escaped her abusers and now has a loving mother, but what does the future hold for someone with her appearance? Stuff like that.

The idea of metamorphosis and new beginnings is well-trodden. But what makes Tehanu interesting is Le Guin primarily examines this with the middle-aged characters. Tenar and Ged are legendary figures in the world of Earthsea, but life has taken them to an uncertain future. The thrust of the novel lies in finding a purpose and becoming someone new. I also like that Tenar/Ged is endgame; I got Vibes from The Tombs of Atuan, but neither character was in a position where it would work. Seeing them form a romantic relationship much later in life is touching and cute. But it’s not the reason that either of them grow as people; finding one’s purpose is something one has to do on their own. Their relationship only develops once both parties have done so.

My main complaint about A Wizard of Earthsea, the first book, is the sexism inherent in the setting, which is never examined below the surface level. Perhaps Le Guin’s outlook changed, or perhaps the publishing environment did, because often Tehanu reads like a response to this criticism. The central theme of the book is misogyny, the patriarchy, and its debilitating effects on women. Le Guin examines everything from micro-aggressions (“common wisdom” that happens to paint women as inferior) to domestic issues (“women’s work” and how much that actually is) to outright sexual assault (both in threats and actual acts; it is heavily implied this is part of the abuse Therru endured). She even goes into how powerful women are only considered as such because a man gave them that power.

While I appreciate the fact she addresses these issues in such a frank, blatant way, at times reading Tehanu felt like reading a basic feminism primer. These subjects are all things I’m familiar with, and I feel like anyone who’s studied key feminist ideas would be aware of them also. Maybe 1990 was different? Le Guin doesn’t add any insights to the bleak reality of patriarchy and sexism, which is a little disappointing compared to previous books. That being said, this book is aimed at young adults despite its dark subject matter. Tehanu could be the first exposure to these ideas that many children receive; looking at it that way, it makes sense that the analysis comes off as basic.

I also found the book’s examination of gender to be very cishet-normative. That’s definitely not surprising, considering the book was published in 1990, but to a 2021 reader this hasn’t aged super well. There’s a lot of discussion about the relationships and differences between men and women--whether there are any or not, how magic differs between them, the ability to bear children, and so on. There’s a weird sexual component to this, like how wizards (who are exclusively men) have to remain celibate in order to… keep being wizards? But women who are witches don’t have to do that, and that’s an advantage women have? (There’s mentions of male witches too, iirc, but it’s not expanded upon— do they have to remain celibate? Who knows.). I found this whole bit pretty odd and unnecessary, although I realize a lot of my perspective on the matter comes from a modern view of sex and gender (and, y’know, being trans). Not all the gender takes in the book are bad, but they are limited.

I found Le Guin’s exploration of trauma and ableism through Therru to be more interesting. There’s a lot of examination about how society treats Therru, a survivor of unspeakable abuse. Her trauma is visible due to severe burns along part of her body, leaving her with a missing eye and disfigured hand. Tenar spends much of the novel wondering what future Therru has; no matter how capable she is and how much she acts like any other little girl, strangers gawk at her, or assume she “deserved” what happened to her. Therru becomes happier and more independent over the course of the novel, but relapses into a traumatized state when she encounters one of her abusers. As a survivor, it’s heartbreaking and distressingly realistic. As much as I like Tenar, I almost wish the novel was from Therru’s perspective (other than the brief jump at the end), but I realize it would spoil the ending.

I’m torn on the ending because, while I thought it was cool and had some interesting revelations, it’s a jarring tonal shift. As I mentioned, Tehanu is a slow novel with a heavy focus on everyday life, and the trials and tribulations both Tenar and Therru experience. There’s even a climactic event a few chapters before the end; the only thing left is a persistent loose thread from earlier in the novel. That subplot explodes to the forefront a bare chapter and a half before the end of the book, and a lot of action-y fantasy stuff happens. It doesn’t come out of nowhere; it’s set up throughout the novel, but it is sudden.

That being said, I do like that the subplot with dragons vs humans is hinted at as early as The Tombs of Atuan. When Tenar tells the legend about the origin of dragons early in the story, my mind immediately went to that one room from the Labyrinth with the sad winged humanoids painted on its walls. I’m curious if there are hints elsewhere in the series. I also figured out Therru’s true name and how she relates to that subplot based on context clues. While it’s not a shocking twist, it is a satisfying one. Though parts of it gave me a “magical destiny” vibe which is counter to much of the series so far; I do wonder how the last two books will address this. (Also… did Le Guin imply Kalessin is Segoy? AKA God? What did she mean by this. So Ged literally like… hitched a ride from God, who promptly yeeted out of the story until the end? That’s kind of funny. Maybe I misinterpreted something.)

I probably sound critical of this book, but I did genuinely enjoy it. It just didn’t speak to me the way the previous two did. The next book is a short story collection before the conclusion to the series, so we’ll see where it goes! Tehanu set some stuff up that I expect will be expanded upon in these volumes.

#8/10 #taylor reads #2021 reading challenge

14 notes · View notes

waiting4inspiration · 4 years

Text

Useless to Me VII (Ivar x Reader c Hvitserk)

Summary: After the birth of your twins, Freydis wants to get back at you for what you’ve told Ivar and makes him believe that your children at his. Ivar decides to see if your words about his new wife are true

Warnings: angst, strong language, mentions of breastfeeding, mentions of birth, ivar being an ass, small fluff, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce

Word Count: 2,939

Useless to Me Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

Not only do you feel blessed by the Gods, but you feel as if this is their way to apologize for what you had to go through - with Ivar and with childbirth - to get here. And they did that by giving not only a son, but a daughter as well. They both have the famous piercing blue eyes that runs in the family.

Hvitserk left after things settled down and the twins were asleep to announce the birth of his son and daughter to the anxious crowd of feasting men and women in the Great Hall. And you could hear the elated cheers from the room.

You haven’t stopped smiling since.

The healer that helped birth your two babies stayed behind, showing you how to feed both at the same time. And seeing the child - or children - you birthed suckling on your breast makes the satisfaction of being a mother grow so big, it feels like you might burst.

Now, the healer holds your daughter as you hold your son, rocking him to sleep and staring at his peaceful face. “It seems you were destined to be a mother,” the healer chuckles, making your smile grow brighter as you look up at her.

When your eyes meet hers, you remember what she had said before your daughter was born. What she called you. “You called me ‘My Queen’ before my daughter was born. Why?” you ask, your voice gentle, not meaning to frighten her or make her feel bad.

She bites her lip and looks down at the baby in her arms. “I was hoping you had forgotten. It was a force of habit and I am completely sorry about it,” she explains, looking up at you with slight fear in her eyes.

You chuckle, shake your head and hold up a hand. She sighs to see your relaxed face. She’s not going to be punished for her mistake. “It’s quite alright. Some others seem to still be treating me like the queen I no longer am,” you mutter, remembering the two farmers that helped carry you to the room.

You can only imagine how many other people would treat you the same.

“Because you cared so much for us when you were queen. And many believe that what he did was wrong,” she whispers, shifting slightly closer to her so your conversation can stay between you and her. “Freydis...she isn’t like you. She has big shoes to fill and she’s not even trying to win the hearts of her people. I have heard that people still see you as our queen.”

“But I am not. And I am fine with that,” you respond, looking down in admiration at your sleeping daughter in the healer’s arms. “If I had known that leaving Ivar would give me this, I would have done it the first time I suspected he couldn’t fill me with child,” you whisper, moving your gaze to your son.

The healer takes in a deep breath, making you realize what you had said, that you had told someone else that Ivar is infertile, and your head snaps up to her. “You musn’t-”

“I won’t tell anyone, princess,” she quickly says. Giving you a reassuring smile, you sigh in relief and nod a short ‘thanks’ to her. “You should get some rest. Sleep when they sleep, otherwise, you won’t get much rest,” she suggests, moving to stand at your side as you sink to lie down.

Placing your son beside you, you take your daughter from her and rest her beside her brother. Then, you rest your head on the pillow and wrap an arm around the twins to form a small nest for them as the healer walks out the room.

You watch the two babies for a moment, smiling at their peaceful faces as you point out what features they received from you, and which from Hvitserk.

Then, you drift off into a happy sleep.

Hvitserk came practically bouncing into the Great Hall again with a proud smile on his face, announcing the birth of his son and making the hall abrupt into loud cheers. And when he added that he also has a daughter, causing another cheer, it made Ivar even more bitter.

Not only have the Gods given you a child with his brother, but they have given you two. Are the Gods mocking him?

Staring at the ground with an irritated look on his face, Freydis moves up behind him on the bed and runs her hands over his shoulders. “You’re thinking about her. And her children,” she whispers, knowing it’s true because the same thing is on her mind.

More about how you insulted her and how she wants revenge for that.

Ivar sighs out and rolls his shoulders to get her to pull her hands away from him. “I feel mocked. She conceived the first time she fucked him and now she has a son. And a daughter,” he grumbles, his eyes staying on his hands as he shakes his head. “My brother’s children.”

Freydis bites her lip and glances down at her stomach. Then, a thought comes to her. What better way to get revenge on you by taking what you love away from you? Your husband? Your children? Why not both?

How will she do that? Well, she can manipulate Ivar in any way she wants. She got him to believe that the child she carries is his, she can make him believe that Hvitserk’s children are actually his as well.

“What if they are yours?” She starts by putting the idea in his mind.

But he doesn’t take it because he shakes his head and chuckles. “They can’t be because she bled before she left,” he snaps, turning his head over his shoulder to look at her.

“So?” she questions, picking at the idea until he takes it. “That doesn’t confirm anything,” she lies, moving closer to him as he turns around completely in interest. “The first two months I carried your child, I bled a little bit too. It’s perfectly normal for that to happen.” Another lie, and she knows it. But he’s a man, what does he know about a woman’s body except where he needs to fuck?

His eyes shift to the side, and slowly, Freydis sees him thinking more and more about it, looking for things that make him believe her words. “They were born early,” she adds to his thoughts. He doesn’t need to know how early your children were born. All he needs to know is that they are early. Making him think it’s possible to be his. “You should demand your children, Ivar.”

His head snaps up to her as she moves into a more comfortable position that shows off her swollen stomach a bit. “Really?” he softly asks, unsure of her words.

“Yes. You are king, you can have whatever you want. And you are their father. No one can prove they are not yours. All you have is her word and maybe her husband’s word; they are not yours, but they are just words.”

“And if I say they are mine, it is my word against hers,” he points out, holding up a finger and a sly smirk as he moves to her side.

He rests his hand on his belly as she chuckles. “You mean, it’s their king’s word against theirs,” she corrects, placing her hand on the curve of her stomach and smiling wicked at him. “Their king’s word and their queen’s word.”

Ivar chuckles as a smile grows on his face. He believes her. He believes you gave birth to his children. Not Hvitserk’s.

Freydis knows that the only one who can confirm that the twins are not Ivar’s is the healer that birthed them. The same healer that helped you when you did bleed when you were still married to Ivar. But, she has a plan for that too.

No one can question a healer than is not there.

Feeling one of the baby’s stir, your eyes snap open and you’re suddenly awake. Seeing your daughter shifting and whining with a closed hand near her face, you push yourself up and take her into your arms. The healer told you it could be a sign that the baby is hungry. And when she starts to cry, you know that it’s true.

Her crying wakes her brother, making him cry, and waking Hvitserk - who you only see now - sleeping beside him. You give a small smile to him as she pushes himself up. “I’m sorry they woke you,” you whisper, positioning your daughter the way you had her when you fed her last night.

Hvitserk chuckles at the sight of you trying to get your daughter to latch onto your nipple and shakes his head. “Why apologize when I get to see this sight?” he questions, picking his son up from the bed as he shifts closer to you.

You laugh, remembering how intrigued he was last night when you first had your children feeding from each breast. Taking your son from him so you can feed him too, you struggle a bit more with having to keep your daughter steady at the same time. “Need some help, my love?”

“Because I want you touching my boobs right now,” you tease, looking up at him when your son finally starts to suckle. Hvitserk knows that they’ve been sensitive lately, and before you gave birth, he insisted to help you clean up when they started leaking.

He moves up to your side and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “What have you decided to name them?” he questions, smiling down at his son and daughter, suckling and kneading your breasts with small hands.

Resting your head against his shoulder, you smile to yourself and run your tongue over your lips. “Halvar and Kar?,” you whisper, speaking of your son and daughter respectively.

Hvitserk smiles and hums in agreement. “Halvar and Kari.” His hand caresses your arm as he rests his head against yours. “Our children. I shall return before the day is over,” he says, speaking to them as he strokes their cheeks with his other hand before turning his head to kiss the side of your face.

“You’re leaving?” you ask, hesitant about being left here where Ivar and Freydis are. “Where are you going?”

“To make sure our home is ready to receive two babies,” he chuckles, cupping your cheek as you look up at him with an unsure look on your face. “You will be fine here and I promise I will not take too long,” he reassures, pressing his lips to yours for a deep kiss, similar to the one he gave you after the twins were placed in your arms for the first time.

Outside the room, however, Ivar waits for a moment where you are alone. He waits for Hvitserk to leave, knowing that you won’t stand a chance stopping him from taking at least one of his children away from you if you refuse to give them to him so they can be raised as his heirs.

He’ll go for your son. His son. A male heir.

Finally seeing Hvitserk walking out the room and heading the other way, Ivar smiles to see that he has left the door open. Perfect.

He steps forward, recalling his wife’s words that reassure him these are his children. Freydis said she had other things to do, that it would be for the best if he were to demand his children on his own. Seeing as how you are his ex-wife.

Seeing someone entering the room, you turn your head and smile, thinking that it’s Hvitserk again or the healer coming to make sure you’re alright. But seeing Ivar makes your smile quickly fade and your body to tense, bringing your children closer to your chest.

“What are you doing here, Ivar?” you question, turning slightly as if to hide the twins from his sight, not comfortable with the way his eyes sparkle when he looks at them.

“You know why I am here, (Y/n),” he deeply says, walking closer towards you. And you just realized now how you don’t like the way he slams his crutch onto the floor with each step he takes. “I am not an idiot like Hvitserk obviously is. I know the truth.”

You swallow nervously and shake your head. “What truth?”

“Those are my children!” His shout startles the babies, making them burst on in tears and a gasp to catch in your throat. “That is my daughter and this is my son. Why else would they have been born early?” he harshly questions, takes another step forward and reaches out to take one baby - he’s not sure if it’s the girl or the boy - from your arms as you try to calm the other.

Your head snaps at him at the feeling of him pulling your child out of your arms and you quickly place your daughter back on the bed. “Ivar, please. Give him back!” you beg, your sharp voice unsettles your babies, making them cry even more.

So, he did take your son. His son. Good.

“Why should I?” he questions, looking at the crying baby in his arms and taking a small step back as you try to stand. “He is my son. He has my eyes to prove it.”

His eyes. Both your children have the same color eyes as he does. But he doesn’t see how your son has Hvitserk’s nose, mouth, ears. How your son looks like Hvitserk, not him. “Ivar, please. I’m begging you. Give me my son.”

“He is my son. I am King. I demand my children stay with me.”

“I will not let you take them,” you shout at him, taking a small step towards him as a tear breaks free from your eyes. “Give him to me. Now,” you scream, reaching for your son in his arms as he tries to pull away from you. “I told you that they are not yours. That I bled before divorcing you.”

“That doesn’t prove anything. Freydis said-”

“Freydis said?” you cut him off, standing still in front of him as he stops moving your son away from your reach. “You’re doing this because of something Freydis said? Freydis is a liar,” you snap, your eyes flickering down to your still crying son and you have to stop yourself from snatching him out of Ivar’s hold. “She’s lying to you about the father of her child and she’s lying to you about the father of my children. Her child was fathered by some man she’s fucking in the market-”

“Watch your tongue!”

“And my children were fathered by my husband, your brother after you failed to give me a child for years,” you don’t relent, knowing that what you’re saying could possibly put your son’s life at risk, but you have to get him to see the truth. The real truth. “Freydis is manipulating you and you don’t even realize it. When have I ever lied to you?” you question, taking a small step forward and raising your hands to stop Ivar from doing anything stupid to your son. “Just because you treated me like shit and continue to do so, I’m not going to start lying to you now. My son and daughter are Hvitserk’s. And I bled an empty womb before I asked you for a divorce. And you can ask the healer that birthed my children. Now, please, give me my son,” you beg, your voice now soft and gentle to calm him as the two crying babies down.

Ivar stares at you, watches as your eyes flicker between him and his son. Your son. Realizing that all he’s going on at the moment is Freydis’s word, he slowly hands the boy back to you, making you take him with a sigh of relief and hold him close to your chest.

And he watches. He watches you being a mother, comforting the crying baby born from your womb that he couldn’t fill for years.

“You will stay in this Hall until it is otherwise proven that they are not my children,” he says, deciding to no longer go on anyone’s word. Expect the healer’s when he finds her. “Do you understand me?”

You nod, scared to think what he might do if you even think to defy him. Keeping your head down as you kiss the top of your son’s head, you breathe a shaky sigh as Ivar turns to walk away, crutch slamming into the ground as he walks.

Outside your room, he walks until he finds a guard. From now on, he’s going to act on his own, like he had always done. The first time he went with someone’s words, was when you told him to find a cunt to bury his sorrows in. And look where that’s led him now.

No, he has to find out if the child growing in his wife’s womb is his, or if it is a bastard. When he finds out the truth, then he will know whether or not he should listen to her words any farther.

“Where is my wife?” he questions harshly, making the guard flinch and swallow harshly.

“She’s getting ready to go to the market.”

You said that the child’s father is someone she’s fucking in the market. What are the chances that Freydis is going to the market for her own interest and going to see the true father of her child?

Well, he’s going to see for himself.

Like my work? Support me HERE!

Permanent List- @cassindeansass @simsadventures @fandomfic-galore @belovedcherry @a-mess-of-fandoms @official-and-unstable-satan @patton-fielder @geekandbooknerd @lonewolf471 @rainbowkisses31 @moonie-flower101 @p8tn0lish @rinkashirikitateku @readsalot73 @tragicmisfits @petlaufeyson @bangtan-serendipity @aworldwideapart @mythicalbullshit @ateliefloresdaprimavera @xbuckxnastyx @madithemagicalfangirl @ivarthebloodyking @shannygoatgruff @a--1--1--3 @nerdypinupcrystal @mblaqgi @tephi101 @coconutqueen21

Ivar Tags- @sallydelys @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon @chaoticfiretaconerd @didiintheblog @witch-of-letters @thorins-queen-of-erebor @eleganttravelercloud @youbelongeverywhere @noseyrosey1597 @hxnnigrxms @wonderlandofsu @secretsthathauntus @portraitofinsanity @grincheveryday @fuckindiva

436 notes · View notes

untilmynextstory · 4 years

Photo

Chapter 2: THE SLEEP OF BABIES

WORD Count: 7.9k

Enjoy!

Jax and Alma are laying in bed in his dorm room. They are still in lockdown. It’s midafternoon and the kids are out with his mom. It left him and Alma some valued alone time. With the door locked and Alma’s shirt raked up to under her breasts, Jax takes the time to admire her flat stomach as his hand lays atop of it. He can really soak in that they will be having another baby in the house. He barely thinks about the fact he is about to be promoted to Vice President. It pales in comparison to this news.

Though, as he tries to spot the small changes that pregnancy brings to Alma, he does disclose everything that has happened the past few days within the club. He brings up the general unease the guys feel about agreeing to sell to the Mayans despite their current deal with the Niners.

“You don’t seem happy about it.” Alma points out. Her small hands grab his and she contorts his fingers as she pleases. A small smile forms as both of his kids do the same thing.

“It’s less blood, but now the Niners won’t be happy.” It’s like exchanging one enemy to make a new one.

Alma’s teeth tug at her lips. “They have to understand that it’s just business.”

“We promised to never sell to the Mayans.” He informs her. It was the one thing that gave them such an easy alliance. Now they will be selling guns to their enemies that will aid them in their ongoing turf war.

Jax doesn’t want to talk of club business anymore. He shifts so that he is laying in between his wife’s legs. His breath tickles her stomach. “When can we announce the news?”

“I’m 10 weeks.” She informs him. “But I want to wait a little bit longer…”

“You’re worried?”

“Cautious. After Kaylee…I’m just cautious.” She informs him as she plays with his blonde hair.

Jax places a kiss to her flat stomach. He doesn’t know how to ease her valid concerns, but it doesn’t take away the joy he feels for the upcoming expansion of his family.

“I’m your old man,” he whispers to his unborn child.

Jaxs’ smile threatens to break his cheeks as he embraces Opie. He clutches his friend tight and thanks god that he sees it fit to keep his friend safe and alive in prison. He is even thankful Darby has not broken his deal.

He hates that his friend is stuck in prison for 5 years. But his friend is alive and that is all that matters.

“Oh hell, don’t tell me you managed to knock Alma up again?” Opie guesses correctly.

Jax smiles brightly.

“Congratulations, bro.”

“Thanks. Having the two is crazy enough, but three,” Jax mutters.

“You got yourself a good family.”

“The kids miss their Uncle Opie. Kaylee was upset she didn’t have the picture she wanted me to give you done in time.”

“I miss them. I miss all of them.” Opie tells him tightly. “But what else is going on?”

Jax lets the conversation change. “Well, you are looking at your new Vice President.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“We’re getting closer.” Jax tells him. They are getting closer to achieving their childhood dreams of being head of the club.

“So new baby, promotion, what is the third thing we should be looking out for.”

Jax chuckles. “I don’t think the 3rd thing will be a good one.”

Opie tugs at his beard. “That sounds ominous.”

“I painted a wall.” Jax informs him.

Opie’s eyebrows skyrocket. “What color?”

“Blue for the green. Had to be done. It looks better with the black.” Killed an official for the Irish. For the money. They had to kill Brenan Hefner and they basically got a free shipment of guns.

“Someone helped.”

“Yeah, but green isn’t turning out to be my favorite. Doesn’t look right. I covered the carpet and windows, but I’m not sure…”

“Well painting isn’t our business.”

“I know.” They weren’t hit men. But maybe the thought of new life has him having doubts about taking one.

“It’s just the impending fatherhood.” Opie cautions.

“Maybe.”

It’s funny that it isn't until Alma realizes she is pregnant that her house is incredibly small. It’s then she notices how it’s not just having two kids leave her tripping over toys, but the fact there is barely any room for them. Even after going through and having the kids decide what they wanted to keep or donate, she realizes a third baby would be a tight fit.

Alma loves her small home. It was hers and Jaxs’. They managed to make it their home. It is where she raised her babies. She doesn’t want to give it up. She thinks maybe they could add to the house.

She knows Jax would contemplate it although ultimately deciding it would be better off just to buy a new one. She thinks she could manage him to at least add a room. She imagines it would be cheaper.

She just doesn’t want to give this up. She is attached to this house after all the work and love she has put into it.

She smiles as with her being pregnant she knows she can convince Jax of nearly anything. They would be keeping the house. She stands in front of her bedroom mirror and lifts up her shirt. Before Jax had left to head to Chino to see Opie, the doctor had confirmed she was two months and a couple weeks into the 3rd month. She turns to the side and she doesn’t really expect to see anything. She just looks bloated. But it’s all the evidence she needs to be extremely giddy about the pregnancy.

She’s worried, of course, but it doesn’t stop the happiness at the thought of her and Jax bringing another child into the world. She doesn’t care if it’s a boy or girl. She just wants a healthy baby.

A knock at the door startles. She drops her shirt and thinks it’s Gemma. She has the kids. She doesn’t know why she would knock, but she doesn’t think too hard on it. She walks to the door and expects the whirlwind of her children, but her body freezes at the sight of Agent Stahl standing at her doorstep.

“Mrs. Teller –“

“Agent Stahl, how can I help you?” Alma interrupts.

The tall blonde smiles at her. “I was just wondering where I could find your husband.”

Alma folds her arms across her chest. “I bet if you looked hard enough you could find him.”

“True, but actually I’m more interested in you and your family history.”

“Don’t know why? I’m not that much fun.”

Stahl chuckles at her. “I think dad would’ve had a problem with the Prince knocking up his daughter at 16.”

“This is old history, Stahl. The only person you could piss off with that knowledge is my mother. So tell me why you are here?”

Stahl quickly drops her charade and digs a photo out of her bag. “You recognize this man?”

Alma looks at a picture of an older gentleman. He looks like an average white man who could be anyone. “No, should I?”

“His name is Cameron Hayes. IRA. He is a known terrorist who we managed to track down in the Northern California area.”

“What does this have to do with me and my family?”

Stahl smirks. “A port commissioner was murdered a couple weeks ago. Rumored to piss off the IRA. Wondered if some friends helped with that.”

“Speculations don’t add to a warrant. If you appear on my doorstep one more time without one, I will call your superiors for harassment.”

“Gemma trains them well.” Stahl muses.

Alma keeps a blank face as Stahl walks back to her unmarked vehicle. It’s only her luck that Gemma pulls up into her driveway and Stahl even has the nerve to wave at the biker matriarch. Alma assumes the two women have already encountered each other.

Alma steps down from the steps and goes to Gemma’s Escalade to help unbuckle the kids.

“Mama!” Kaylee exclaims from her carseat. Alma unbuckles her and holds her close as she presses a kiss to her head. “Did you have fun with Grandma?”

“Lots!” Kaylee exclaims as she wiggles to be let down. “Is Daddy home?”

“Not yet,” She tells her daughter. Nathan doesn’t need help out of the car as he grabs his bag and rushes back in the house. Kaylee rushes in after him.

She shakes her head and Gemma stands next to her. “What did Stahl want?”

“Just playing mind games.” Alma says brushing off the encounter. She’s been through this before.

“It’s bullshit. They don’t have anything.” Gemma adds.

“It’s all smoke going after the women, huh?” Alma knows the boys did something. She just doesn’t want to dwell on it. She wants nothing to distract her from the pregnancy. She doesn’t need the stress.

It’s then that she gets a strong whiff of Gemmas’ perfume that her stomach turns. It has her running to the closest garbage can, which is in the kitchen.

Fuck, her morning sickness couldn’t have come at a better time. She heaves and heaves until her throat burns something fierce. She groans and grimaces as she can smell her sour breath. She walks over to the sink to rinse her mouth out with some water. She needs a shower at this point.

“So?” Gemma questions. “The last time I saw you throw up was when you decided to decorate my rose garden when you were pregnant with Kaylee.”

Alma takes another swish of the water. It seems the cat is out of the bag. She faces Gemma and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m two months along.” She admits.

She watches as an ecstatic look overtakes Gemma’s features. The biker matriarch embraces her in a tight hug. “Another grandbaby. Who would’ve thought. Why the hush hush?”

“I’m just worried.”

“Sweetie –“

“I know.” Alma says with a sigh. She knows worrying will make her pregnancy more stressful, but she can’t help it.

“Everything will be fine.” Gemma assures her.

It was quite easy to see that the wife of Opie Winston was the weakest link out of the few SAMCRO old ladies. Agent Stahl knows the recent single mother will crumble easily under the weight. Her intel had informed her how the small brunette had begun isolating herself from the inbred bikers. It was a rookie mistake and would leave the woman vulnerable.

Stahl seats at the wooden table with the angry brunette. A baby is sleeping in a bassinet in the living room with the oldest boy coloring. Stahl tries to at least feel pity for these kids.

“How are things going for you, Donna?”

“I’m pretty sure your notes already tell you how I am doing.”

Stahl gives her a stiff smile. “You’re smart, Donna. You can only see how SAMCRO is going to rip your family apart. It already has.”

“My family is fine.”

“And in five years…a lot can happen.” Stahl tells her as she leans up. “Are you aware of the enemies that your husbands’ motorcycle club has? Mayans, Nords…just to name a few are surrounding your husband right now.”

“Are you threatening his safety?”

“I’m giving you the facts. Two kids, a single income…it is going to be hard to manage. You might fall behind on the mortgage or get in credit card debt.”

“And what can you help me with?”

“I can help your husband.” Stahl tells her bluntly. “I can get him out this year and as a sign of good faith move him closer to home. Six hours is a long drive.”

Donna snorts. “You really need to work on your sales pitch.”

“We both know when Opie gets out he is going to go back to the club…back to arson…or back to prison if he even makes it out of this sentence.” Stahl tells her without any care. “If anything, think about the two kids who will be without a father. They are more important than that club.”

Donna stands up from the table. “I don’t know shit about Opie’s club business. And even if I did, I'd never rat on him. Get out of my house, bitch.”

Stahl gives her a grim smile and doesn’t need to be told twice. Her partner, Estevez follows her out the house.

“Well that went well.” Estevez mutters.

Stahl chuckles. “No, it went perfectly well. She is going to run to Alma Teller. Means we got her rattled or doubting. We just need a crack.”

To see Donna on her doorstep after weeks of silence and broken playdates with the kids has thrown Alma for a loop. Clearly the recent prison widow is struggling and Alma is glad to help. However, she can’t help but feel this isn’t just out of Donna’s own doing. Something pushed her to try to mend the broken bridges she had been trying to burn.

Alma knows she won’t be vindictive and turn her away. Ellie is sleeping peacefully and Kenny is glad to be back to playing with Nathan and Kaylee. It leaves the two women some privacy in the kitchen.

Alma has her own cup of green tea in front of her while Donna has a glass of water. Alma stares intently at the brunette and wonders when they start to become strangers.

“What happened?” Alma asks softly.

Donna chews on her bottom lip as she picks at her fingernails. “A fed came by my house. Was trying to see if I knew anything about Opie’s business.”

Alma blows on her tea and nods her head. “Agent Stahl, I presume.”

“She said she could get Opie closer to home and out in a year.”

“They will say anything to get you to make a slip up Donna. That would only hurt Opie and your family.” Alma replies.

Donna’s brows furrow. “Opie is in jail that is hurting my family. This club hurts my family.”

“You married into this, Donna. You knew going into this what could happen.”

Donna releases a bitter laugh. “So that excuses everything? I’m just supposed to accept that the father of my children is a convicted felon.”

The grip on her mug tightens. Alma knows she is treading on dangerous territory. She knows what she can say can push Donna in 20 different directions that can only hurt Opie. “If you talk to Stahl…you can get him killed, Donna.”

Alma watches as the blood leaves Donna’s face. Maybe, Alma shouldn’t have said that, but she also believes Opie should’ve had this talk with her. It would make a lot of things easier.

“From who? The Mayans? Nords?” Donna hisses.

Alma’s brows furrow and she assumes Stahl gave her those names. Alma thinks it is better for Donna to have that conclusion considering that Alma was talking about the club. Alma knew Jax would never let anything happen to Opie, but he was only one person. If Donna talked…

“From you. You coming here talking about giving a Fed information is gonna have him spun. He is going to be too focused about what is going to come out of your mouth than his safety in prison.” Alma tells her honestly.

Donna releases a bitter laugh. “This can’t be happening. I came here for a friend and I feel like I am talking to Gemma.”

Alma takes a sip of her tea. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not going to encourage you to rat.”

“Because your family is perfectly safe and fine right? Jax is still here. Who cares about Donna?”

“It isn’t even like that.” Alma snaps. “And the fact of the matter is one day I will probably be in your position or worse burying my fucking husband in an early grave. Don’t forget I grew up in this shit, Donna. I lost my father to this life.”

“And look where you are! Married to the fucking Vice President of the outlaw motorcycle club!” Donna roars. “What does that say about you, huh?”

“What’s going on here?”

Both Donna and Alma jump at the sound of Jax’s voice. His eyes are going back and forth between Donna and Alma. Alma can see his concern and agitation because the last thing she needs is stress during this pregnancy.

“Nothing,” Donna spats. “I was just leaving.”

Jax raises his eyebrow at the venom in her tone. He doesn’t stop her from leaving as she picks up Ellie’s carrier and interrupts Kenny playing with the kids to leave. She doesn’t bother with a goodbye and even slams their door.

Alma moves from the table with her tea and places it in the sink. She hears Jax moving behind her and his arms wrap around her.

“Does the club need to be concerned?” He asks her softly.

“Stahl rattled her.” Alma admits. “And I don’t know what is going on in her head.”

“Going after the women is a smart tactic especially ones that have the most to lose.” Jax mutters to her.

She turns in his hold to peer into his blue eyes. “What is going on Jax? Don’t tell me it’s smoke because they wouldn’t wait until after Opie’s case and sentence to start digging into club business.”

Jax pulls back some as he looks over her and sighs. His hands come up and caress her face. “I don’t want you worrying about this shit.”

“Don’t use this pregnancy to keep me at length. Not telling me shit keeps me worried.”

“A port commissioner was killed. He was the enemy of the Irish.” He tells her and nothing else.

“Jax…” Alma knows there is more to the story. He isn’t telling her everything and it burns.

“Babe, if it becomes something trust me I will let you know before shit hits the fan. Just focus on the little one, yeah.” He tells her as he pulls her close and back into a tight hug.

Alma only nods her head against his chest.

It was a close one Jax can admit. Luckily, with Unser on the payroll, it had been easy to sneak into the police to relay word to Luann about the Feds plan. Unfortunately, it meant Otto getting more infractions against him as he gave Stahl a busted nose and black eye. He hasn’t yet told the club about Donna’s visit to Alma or even Opie about his wife’s doubts. He hopes now that he won’t need to.

The club is in a good mood. It still hasn’t settled in that he is now Vice President of his father’s club. He has just gotten through his first, but many waves of heat the club will always get. He didn’t fuck it up and that is a plus. He smiles as he spots Alma at the bar. The new Prospect, Half Sack, is keeping her company.

God, his wife is beautiful and he knows he is a lucky bastard. He glances over to the portrait of her father. Sometimes, he wonders how he would’ve handled knowing he had gotten her pregnant and married her. Jax knows for sure he would’ve gotten his ass handed to him. Though he hopes the man is at least comforted in the fact he is taking care of her. He knows he treats Alma thousand times better than her father ever treated Ana.

Jax makes his way to his wife and wraps his arms around her. She laughs at the affection, but she melts into the hold.

“Miss me, baby?” She questions.

“All the damn time,” he admits as Half Sack slides a beer to him.

Alma smiles as she sips her cranberry juice. He moves to her side and is practically hovering over her. She doesn’t seem to mind. “I think we should tell people.”

“Now?”

He nods his head. “You’re closer to four months now. If you weren’t wearing loose sweaters people would know by now anyways.”

Jax can see her hesitation. He watches as the gears turn in her head. He doesn’t like it. His fingers pinch her chin bringing her back to him as he places soft delicate kisses on her lips. “It’ll be okay.”

Alma relaxes in his hold and she nods her head. A small smile pulls at her full lips. He slams his beer back before he pulls his beer close.

With his right hand he brings his fingers up to his mouth a whistle gathering everyone’s attention.

“Listen up, I got something to tell y'all.” He shouts. All eyes are on him. Curious as they look between him and Alma. He smiles wide. “I got another kid on the way.”

The club roars and he gives Alma a deep kiss before his brothers tackle him with hard slaps on his back in form of congratulation.

It was hard saying goodbye to their old house. Due to Alma’s heightened emotions, they didn’t sell the house, but decided to tackle being landlords. Alma just could not give up their former home.

The new home was a massive upgrade that Jax didn’t really care about and showed off the perks from his lifestyle. The European inspired home was 6 bedrooms with a 4 car garage. An in-ground pool in the backyard.

To welcome them into the home there were massive columns and arched windows over the front door. From the foyer it featured two circular staircases leading to the balcony that overlooked the Formal living room.

The kitchen included a prep island, a walk-in pantry, and a 6-person eat-at peninsula bar. Leaving the kitchen it opened into the breakfast room and family room, which featured a curved wall of windows. It also included a fireplace and directly across from there they had a covered porch.

Like the family, the master suite also had a curved wall of windows and Jax and Alma were treated to their own private covered porch. Their master bathroom had a corner glass shower, a whirlpool tub, and walk-in closets for him and her.

The hallway from the foyer leads to the spacious game room, large home theater and guest room with private bath.

The second floor of the house, which basically belonged to the kids, included 4 additional bedroom suites each with a private bath.

It was a beautiful home.

Jax smiles as he brings his arms around his wife and caresses her bump. Alma pregnant is his favorite site in the world. He presses a kiss to her cheek as she giggles.

“It is so big, Jax.” She whispers as they watch the Prospect being ordered by Kaylee where boxes are going.

“Nothing but the best for my family.”

Alma turns in his arms. Her bump pressed against his stomach. Her brown eyes are glowing. “I love you.”

“I hope so. Being married to you ain't cheap.”

Alma scoffs as she slaps him in the stomach. “It’s cheaper to keep me. You remember that.”

Jax smirks and he gives his wife an Eskimo kiss. “So no Kobe rings could ever help me out in the future.”

“Are you purposely trying to irritate your pregnant wife?”

“Maybe.” Jax quips as he presses a kiss to her lips.

“You’re a jerk.”

“I’ll give her a full body massage later, yeah.”

“You promise?”

“Of course, darlin’.” He promises as the doorbell rings. “I’ll get that. You should be sitting somewhere. Direct from the couch.”

“I’m perfectly capable of standing,” he hears Alma mutter to his back.

Jax doesn’t bother checking the windows to see who is at the door. He thinks it is probably his brothers wanting to see where their new place to freeload is.

He swings the door open and his good mood is instantly soured by the presence of Agent Stahl. “Can I help you?”

Stahl opens her mouth, but she is interrupted by the sound of his kids laughing behind him and Kaylee saddles up to his leg.

“Daddy! You missed it. Half Sack –“ She stops as she looks at the group of suits at their door.

“What’s going on, Dad?” Nathan asks as he too looks at the people on his steps.

Jax manages to keep a straight face as he picks up Kaylee and presses a kiss to her head before setting her back down next to Nathan. “Go to your mom.”

Nathan’s eyes widen at his words. “Dad –“

“Go now,” Jax orders.

No one is prepared for Kaylee to scream for her mother making all of them jump. They are all frozen when Kaylee attempts to close the door on the agents. “You’re not taking my Daddy!” She screams before latching onto her father tightly.

“Jax – “Stahl begins.

“Don’t do this now,” he says between clenched teeth.

“Is your wife home?” Stahl asks instead.

Her question is answered as Alma appears confused. “What is going on?” Half Sack is behind her.

“Mrs. Teller, you need to take your daughter.” Stahl says.

“What are you doing here?”

“I really wouldn’t like to do this in front of your kids.”

“Sack, take her,” Jax orders.

The Prospect comes over and with a tight grip pries Kaylee away from him. Jax forces himself not to watch as his daughter’s screams and cries echo throughout the house.

He presses a kiss to Alma, who is standing in shock as realization dawns on her. “I love you. Call my mom.”

He hugs his son real quick. “You take care of your mom and your sister and the little one.” Nathan nods and holds him tightly before letting go.

Jax walks away from his family.

He stands in front of Stahl as an agent with cuffs walks behind him.

“Jackson Teller, you're under arrest for the murder of Brenan Hefner. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” Stahl says as she begins leading him to the unmarked car.

He is silent as he walks to the car. He doesn’t resist as they push him in the backseat.

He doesn’t want to look at his family as he is whisked away. But as the car pulls out of his driveway, he looks back as Nathan begins screaming for him.

Alma stands behind their son who has turned in her arms. His tears staining her swollen belly.

Sometimes, Alma hates the club. She hates the hierarchy it upholds. She hates that her husband is in jail. Right now, she thinks she may even hate Clay Morrow. It wasn’t as if she was a fragile newlywed. She had grown up in this shit. He was beating around the bush and not giving her a straight fucking answer on as to why her kids had to witness their father being arrested.

“I know you’re upset –“

“I’m fucking pissed!” Alma snaps at her father in law.

Clay purses his lips in displeasure as Gemma even keeps her lips shut as she massages his hands at their dining room table.

Clay knows he is in a tricky spot. For one, he isn’t in the chapel and his status as President doesn’t matter right now. Right now he has his son’s wife demanding an answer because now club business is bleeding into family business.

He isn’t about to open his mouth because he doesn’t know what Jax wants Alma to even know. At the same time, he doesn’t want to get taken out by some pregnant broad. He has dodged bullets from soldiers and rivals; his life isn’t coming to an end due to an angry pregnant woman.

“Alma, jail time is always a risk for what we do.” He says slowly. He can see the steam rushing out of her ears.

“Don’t be fucking patronizing. I want to know what the fuck he did.” Alma seethes. “I have that right.” She knows it is a murder charge, but she wants the details.

“Alma, you need to calm down,” Gemma says, finally speaking up as she watched Alma cradle her stomach. “This isn’t good for the baby.”

Alma snorts. “That bitch arrested him in front of the kids.”

Alma doesn’t know why, but the tears just pour out of her eyes. She knows she couldn’t shelter her kids forever. She knew this day would come where her and Jax would need to explain their world. She just never wanted her kids to witness their father being taken away in handcuffs.

Alma collapses in a chair as the tears don’t stop. Gemma moves up from the table to comfort her. They all think it is better for Alma to break down now than later. She can do it now and leave the house strong for her family.

“We’ll figure this out,” Clay promises over the tears.

Clay is annoyed and pissed. That ATF bitch is blocking all attempts of making contact with Jax. The only thing they know is that he is being charged for the hit they did for the Irish. He is more concerned how in the hell there was a witness. He looks at Tig and Bobby, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

“How’s Alma?” Bobby asks.

Clay leans back into his chair and sighs. “Pissed once she was able to read over the charges fully and the penalties. I thought you guys said it was clear?” He asks with more bite than he intends.

“It was, Clay,” Tig assures. “Easiest hit ever. Besides, Bobby and I were there. Wouldn’t they arrest us too?”

Clay sighs. He doesn’t know what game that ATF gash is playing.

“I don’t think it needs to be said, Jax ain’t gonna rat…so how in the hell are we gonna get him protection?” Bobby says speaking up.

Clay runs a hand through his hair. The last thing he wants is to ask the Nords for more help. “What we need to do is find the rat.” Clay tells them.

“Serious allegation, Clay,” Bobby cautions.

“No shit, but how in the hell do you explain someone identifying Jax as the shooter?”

Both men turn silent.

“Something ain’t right about this.” Clay mutters.

“You need to calm down,” Gemma orders as she watches Alma pace in the kitchen of the unpacked home. Boxes are still closed and Gemma guesses Jax’s recent arrest has made her neglect certain things.

Most importantly, Gemma is just worried about the health of her unborn grandchild.

“I fucking can’t.” Alma tells her. “We just bought this house. I don’t work. How in the fuck am I going to support three kids on no salary?”

Gemma frowns. “You know that you don’t need to worry about that.”

“That is not the point.” Alma stresses. Alma wants to scream in frustration at being in this situation. She knows after this baby comes she is going to make some major changes in her life.

Gemma purses her lips together. She wants to snap and tell Alma that she needs to get her shit together. It is just a stark contrast to how Alma is usually calm and reserved. It makes Gemma wonder how much Alma buries or this is literally pregnancy emotions that can’t let her even allow to comprehend one emotion to latch onto.

“How about we take things week by week, or better yet focus on that baby in your belly. Let the club worry about Jax.” Gemma advises.

Alma takes a calming breath as she places a hand on her prominent belly. It’s a tense and uncomfortable silence that Gemma isn’t used to being on the receiving end of. Gemma almost jumps when fat tears escape Alma’s eyes. She watches as the tears splash against the woman’s cheeks and stain against her shirt.

Gemma doesn’t exactly know what is stopping her from consoling her daughter in law. She is almost embarrassed when Nathan comes in and sees the state of his mother.

Nathan rushes over to his mother. “Mom, what’s wrong?” He asks as his arms wrap around her as much as they can. “It’s going to be okay, Mom.” Nathan whispers.

Alma opens her arms and embraces her oldest child.

Alma’s eyes meet Gemma’s. The tears stop coming.

The only good part about being locked up in Federal custody is that he isn’t in the general population. He is isolated and the food isn’t’ that shitty. He doesn’t need to try and make friends, which could mess up his standing and getting a deal. So he is not complaining or making a fuss too much and the last thing he wants is to give Alma added stress.

And after two days of nothing, the agents were finally dragging him to the visitation room. He sits quietly before Stahl comes through the door with her manila envelope.

She doesn’t bother with a greeting as she takes a sit opposite him. “You killed a state official, Jax. The U.S. Attorney will seek the death penalty.”

“I didn't kill anybody.” Jax tells her. “And if you have anything else to say, why don't you talk to my lawyer?”

Stahl smirks. “Well, if my witness statement is a lie... then maybe you should hear all of it, hmm?”

Jax smiles. “Yeah, I like a good story.”

Stahl leans back in her chair as she opens her folder. “Hefner got spooked by seeing Bobby. He turned back to you. You jammed your gun in his sternum and fired four shots. Hefner fell. You and Bobby fled the balcony... and met up downstairs with Alexander Trager.”

“Great fiction.” Jax replies. Although in his mind, the wheels are turning. He knows Bobby and Tig would never rat, so someone had to be tailing them to know that.

“Eyewitness fiction.” Stahl counters. “If you confess now, the attorney might go lenient. Maybe get you a better deal to maybe see your unborn child get married at least. Do you know what you’re having?”

Jax clenches his jaw. “Are we done here?”

“Is there anything you would like me to tell your family? I know that she is due soon.”

Jax doesn’t bother with a reply.

“I would think about your family Jax. You’re going to be doing years. I can’t imagine a child only knowing their father in prison clothes.”

Clay can feel the other parents glaring at him, but he doesn’t fucking care. With Jax being in jail, Gemma handling the garage and family business, and Alma running errands to deal with Jax's future sentence, Clay is on babysitting duty.

He is not really complaining. He loves being around his grandchildren. He loves every minute being with them. Though now, the reason parents are glaring at him, outside of him smoking his Cuban cigars, were the visitors he was getting at the playground.

Usually Clay does his best to separate his business from family life. He knows Alma will have his ass on a sling if he finds out he was handling business at a wooden picnic table. However, with Jax locked up, business needed to be handled and he needed to figure out how to make sure his son can come home on a reasonable time frame.

Clay looks over his shoulder to find his grandchildren causing havoc on the slides. He smiles before he almost drops his cigar at the site of Rosen. Usually, Lowen, Rosen’s associate, would get her fancy pumps dirty to deliver messages.

He knows it must be serious and for a minute he is scared shitless he is about to deliver the worst.

“Clay,” Rosen greets as he reaches the table.

“Is it Jax?” Clay asks.

“Surprisingly, no,” Rosen says as he sits opposite of him. “I got a message from Opie.”

Clay’s eyebrows skyrocket.

“I should say Lenny’s lawyer reached out to me with a message from Opie.” Rosen clarifies.

Clay doesn’t even want to know how in the hell Opie managed to get a message to Lenny, who is in Stockton, from Chino.

“And how much are you charging me to deliver this message?” Clay quips.

Rosen doesn’t banter as he looks at Clay in the eyes. “Opie says the Feds have gone to see him. A few times and even with the added threat to tack on more to his sentence.”

“Why?”

“Apparently someone is talking to the Feds. Gave a detailed list to the Feds of a bunch of alleged crimes Opie and Jax partook in. I mean it’s a lot of shit that goes back to their prospect years.”

What the fuck.

“Is it just Opie and Jax?” Clay asks.

“He said there is some other shit that is more broad, but specifics are mostly him and Jax.” Rosen tells him. “Now before you say anything damning, I’m gonna go. We never had this conversation.”

Clay seethes as he watches Rosen walk away. Of all the things he expected to hear. There is a goddamn rat at the table. And he knows who the fuck it is. The goddamn fucking rat.

“Fucking Kyle…” Tig mutters.

“You put a goddamn tail on him.” Clay seethes quietly. “Call Happy down here. Download him. Figure what Kyle’s been up to.”

“On it boss.” Tig says as he pulls out his phone and walks away.

Clay regrets that he didn’t see this coming. He failed as the President by not realizing the potential fallout of patching out Kyle.

“Grandpa! Push me on the swings, please!” Kaylee yells out.

Clay looks at his granddaughter. Her smile is a carbon copy of Jax’s.

Kyle won’t be shown any type of mercy.

Alma finds it hard to sleep at night. It’s not that she isn’t tired. She is and the baby is sucking the life out of her. It is just that her mind won’t stop. Her thoughts won’t let her rest. It’s not like she can exactly go to a therapist to talk about the shit she lives through.

But she knows she can’t go on for long like this. She does need to think about her children. She believes if she wasn’t pregnant her emotions wouldn’t be as severe. She would be able to pull back and let things simmer. She would be able to wade through the water before finding a crystal clear path.

Besides, the last thing she needs is for Jax to be worrying about her. She needs to get it together. Nathan shouldn’t have seen her crying like that. She feels awful that he had to comfort her. She should have shed her tears alone in her bedroom where the cold is prominent on Jax’s side of the bed.

“Mommy?”

Alma turns from where she is sitting at her vanity. She finds Kaylee standing behind the door in her purple pajamas.

Alma smiles. “And what are you doing out of bed?”

Kaylee smiles sheepishly as she walks further into the room. Alma’s heart breaks a little to think that her baby is about to be five years old. It seems only yesterday she gave birth to her little girl. She was still changing her diapers. Now, she will be starting school.

“I couldn’t sleep, Mommy,” Kaylee replies. Kaylee stands in front of her mother. Her attention focused solely on the cosmetics and beauty items laid out.

“Couldn’t sleep? And why is that?” Alma questions.

Kaylee gives her a mischievous smile. A smile that she knows that she inherited from Jax, Alma has seen that smile many times.

“You’re very pretty, Mommy.” Kaylee says with a blush. “I want to be pretty like you.”

“You’ll be prettier than me when you’re older.” Alma says as Kaylee plays with the brushes on the counter.

“Daddy says you are the most beautiful girl alive.” Kaylee tells her.

“Did he?” Alma asks. She is at least grateful Jax’s absence hasn’t affected Kaylee’s love and fond reminiscents of Jax.

Kaylee smiles. “Can I brush your hair, Mommy?”

“Of course. Let’s move to the bed so you can reach me alright.”

Kaylee beams and hastily gets on the bed. Alma moves to the edge and her little girl is eager to start brushing.

“Your hair is getting so long.” Kaylee says as she runs the brush through her long dark locks.

“Do you think I should cut it?”

“We both can get haircuts!” Kaylee decides.

Alma laughs. “We’ll see after the baby is born.”

Kaylee brushes for a few more moments and then stops as she settles next to her mother. Her small hand is timid as she reaches out and places her palm against her protruding stomach.

“I’m sad.” Kaylee announces.

Alma frowns as she wraps her arms around her daughter. “Why are you sad, Baby?”

“Because you’re sad that Daddy isn’t here.”

“Kaylee,” Alma says shakenly. Alma isn’t even sure how to respond to that.

“Do you think the baby will be sad?”

This Alma can answer. “No, the baby will be happy. They will have you and Nathan as a big brother and sister. They’ll be happy. And…Daddy will come home one day.”

“You promise?” Kaylee asks her with wide brown eyes. Alma’s heart almost breaks as she is reminded of a similar conversation she had with her own mother when her father went to prison. Her father never came home.

“How bout you sleep with Mommy tonight. I’ll feel better when I wake up in the morning.”

It’s been a weird few days. Clay has been quiet on what’s going on with Jax. Alma doesn’t focus on it. Her main focus needs to be on her kids and she is just lucky her mom hasn’t gone on a soapbox about her situation.

Besides, she promised the kids a camping trip in the backyard. She is sort of looking forward to it herself as she fills her cart up with marshmallows and chocolate. She wonders if she can borrow the Prospect to help. If anything it might be a vacation for him.

She is leaving the aisle when her cart almost hits someone.

“Sorry.” Alma says apologizing.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Teller.”

Alma freezes at the sight of Stahl. “Agent Stahl, I would say it’s been nice to see you.”

Stahl presses her lips in a flat line. “Considering I am feeling generous, I would pick up tomorrow’s paper.”

“I think I would rather not.”

Stahl licks her lips. “I mean you had to see this coming? This life you lead and if your husband would talk he might get to see his youngest graduate from high school.”

“Screw you.”

“Any bit of cooperation can help your husband.”

Alma laughs bitterly. “If anything the very least you can let me talk to my husband.”

Alma walks away from Stahl and goes to check out, but the skinny agent follows her. “You know I get it.”

“Get what?”

“The struggle you must feel. Wanting to give your kids a good life and raise your kids with their father. But it’s a fine line though right. You’re about to be on the verge of repeating the cycle. After all, your father never came home from prison.”

Alma whips around to look at Stahl. She almost can’t believe the words that escaped the agent's mouth.

Alma opens her mouth, but a pained gasp escapes her lips.

“Mrs. Teller, you okay?”

Alma feels her lower body tighten. She looks down between her legs and finds blood spreading.

Jax had been doing his daily workout routine when the guards had come to his cell. Usually they make some smart aleck remark and there would be some light hearted banter. Today, there was none of that. The men were quiet as they escorted him to the small visitation room. As he sat and waited for Stahl, he wondered what bullshit she was going to sprout on him.

He thought she would be up his ass the whole time during his stay, but she surprisingly left him alone.

He is waiting for a couple minutes before Stahl presents herself and he doesn’t miss that the camera is turned off. She doesn’t greet him. She walks stiffly to her seat. She has no papers. Nothing. She just sits and stares blankly at him.

“You got something you wanna say?” He asks, breaking the silence.

Stahl looks at him blankly. Jax feels he isn’t going to like what is going to come out of her mouth. That is the usual feeling with her, but this time something is extremely off. Something is wrong.

She clears her throat. “I wanted to give you this news in person.”

Jax leans back in his chair. “Well, that doesn't sound good.”

Stahl chews on her bottom lip before she sits up straighter and looks him in the eyes. She folds her hands across the table top. “Your wife, Alma, she’s in the hospital.”

Jax’s spine stiffens. “What are you talkin' about?”

“She had a miscarriage. I can’t tell you what exactly went wrong, but it was a close call for her. She lost a lot of blood.”

Jax doesn’t say anything as he looks up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You make it sound like you were there.”

“I was the one to call the ambulance. She was at the store when it happened.” Stahl reveals to him. “There was a witness who fingered you. We also got some corroborating statements from Kyle Hobart about past crimes.”

“Why are you tellin' me this?”

“We'll be charging you with Hefner's murder. U.S. Attorney will seek the death penalty. I guess I'm feeling guilty about the pain your wife and children will go through.”

Jax shakes his head. “I’m surprised you feel anything.”

Stahl stands up. “He was a boy, by the way. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Stahl leaves the visiting room. Jax doesn’t even wait to be taken back to his room as he breaks down in tears.

#the unknown #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction #jax teller #jax teller x oc

13 notes · View notes

queerchoicesblog · 4 years

Text

The Thiasus

So, folks, let's start the wlw miniseries writing project!

As announced, the first series to be posted is the Ancient Greece one suggested by @jackievarma , others will soon follow. I decided to name the first bit The Thiasus as it takes place on Lesbos at the famous Sappho's thiasus where rich girls were sent to be educated before their wedding.

Since this is the first fic of this miniseries project, I will just share one thing, so that you can choose whether my approach suits you or not. After much consideration, I decided not to omit from the stories potentially uncomfortable issues. I will add a trigger alert if need be but especially writing about women through the centuries, I'd consider a distortion of truth cutting off for instance homophobia, transphobia, forced marriages, and other unpleasantries like these. They won't be the main topic of my works but sadly they are part of what women had - and still as in a way- to go through so, no matter how tough adding it to the romances is for me, banishing them from these stories would have sounded like spreading a lovely lie, which in the end is simply a lie. Not sure they will recur systematically but if you find it in any of my stories, you know why.

Also, I absolutely hate when writers make poor wlw suffer or die, depriving them of the happy ending we all dreamed of. However, I am the worst at writing happy endings but I'll try. Don't be mad at me if sometimes you won't find one: happy endings aren't and weren't always feasible. But a sad ending is not necessarily mean or homophobic or so I think.

Apologies for the long talk, hope you enjoy it! The next part will be out on Saturday

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

When I joined the thiasus, I was young, a pretty little flower yet to blossom. The first born of a merchant hoping to score a good match and wedding for her daughter. I didn't know what to expect: Sappho's community was well renewed and respected all over Greece, but I knew little about it. All I knew was that it was a school where young girls like me could learn all they needed to learn to be the good wives of powerful men one day. I didn't mind being around girls -if they weren't as annoying as my sisters- but it didn't sound too exciting: we were expected to learn how to properly behave and please, how to sing, play instruments and dance to appeal the Gods and our betrothed. It wasn't entirely correct. Yes, of course, we learned all those things there and refined our grace: from raw childish material we blossomed into gracious young women thanks to Sappho's teachings. But we also learned something more invaluable...eternal, I'd say.

One of the first classes I had there was a few days after my arrival. We were sitting in a circle near an altar in the green, the murmur of the waves crushing against the rocky cliffs echoing in the distance. Our teacher kept quiet for a while, her eyes wandering, taking in each one of us. Then, out of the blue, she asked us what the best thing in the world is. What do you value most in this world?, she inquired. What would you say? Silence fell in our group before someone said "the favour of the Gods" and another "power". A girl sitting next to me exclaimed "a fair husband" while I humbly suggested "happiness". What should we all seek in this life if not happiness? Sappho pondered our words then smiled. When she spoke again, she recited lines that went straight to my heart like an arrow: Some celebrate the beautyof knights, or infantry, or billowing flotillasat battle on the sea.Warfare has its glory, but I place far abovethese military splendorsthe one thing that you love.For proof of this contentionexamine history: we all remember Helen, who left her family, her child, and royal husband, to take a stranger's hand: her beauty had no equal, but bowed to love's command.As love then is the powerthat none can disobey, so too my thoughts must followmy darling far away: the sparkle of her laughterwould give me greater joythan all the bronze-clad heroes I spent the rest of the day repeating those words in my head and wondering who was "her darling far away" whose laughter was a memory so dear to win over glorious heroes. I also wondered if I would ever feel anything close to that: a tender smile still lingered on my teacher's lips at the thought of her. It must be nice, I thought. I've always been a good singer: when I was still at my parents's house I would shock my poor mother and nana saying that I wanted to be a singer, to sing for the passerby in the streets. Nana would comment harshly that it wasn't an honourable occupation for a girl. "Not a respected girl, at least" she chastised me, giving me an assessing look. Mother would agree and suggest that I could always sing for my husband and our guests one day, if my betrothed agreed. Funny enough, it's what happened: I'm an honorouble woman who delights my husband's guest with the finest melodies and hymns. I gave up my dream of singing and dancing free in the streets. But I wasn't surprised to excel in singing at the thiasus. It was not out of hubris, I was just aware of my skills and I basked in my teacher's appraisal. I was so excited when she offered me to perform a duet with another student for the upcoming celebrations. Generally, only older students were allowed to perform on such occasions but she believed I had a special gift and I would have done just fine. What better way to thank the Gods for the talent I received from them? I studied my part eagerly and when I was ready I came back to her and she introduced me to my partner. A girl slightly older than me was sitting with her, her raven curls dancing in the salty breeze from the sea. She graciously stood as Sappho explained the reason of my presence there and told my name, singing my praises. The girl smiled at me and I blushed a little in the sunlight. She noticed and looked back at our teacher, smiling to herself. Or refraining herself from giggling in front of Sappho. "And this, my sweet Athenian, is Kleanthis" our teacher announced with pride. Kleanthis. I repeated her name in my head and it filled me like the perfume of a sweet flower. Kleanthis came from a nearby island, Samos, and was one of the most brilliant student. By the way Sappho talked of her, I got the impression she was destined to follow our teacher's path one day. I was right but I couldn't possibly know it back then. When the pleasantries were over and we were left alone to rehearse before the celebrations, Kleanthis collected her lyre and guided me towards a beach nearby. Once there, she gently strummed her instrument and looked at me over her shoulder. "Let me hear what you've got, Athenian" The first lines were hers: her voice was like a siren's song but not as harmful. She swayed with the music and I had to concentrate not to miss my part just after hers. I had never seen someone like her: as she performed, she transformed herself, her whole body, not just her voice was participating and praising the goddess. She looked nothing short than a terrestrial manifestation of the Graces. Maybe she was one of them, I remember thinking: after all, the Gods visit our world under disguise. We repeated our parts over and over and stopped only when the sun was about to go down into the sea. She wiped away the sweat from her forehead and smirked, handing me her lyre. "Not bad, Athenian. How long you said you've been here?" Then she walked towards the sea and washes her hands into the sea, her face. When she moved back and asked me to follow her, I was mesmerised by the way the last rays of sun sparkled on her wet skin. That night we performed by the altar and it was...magical. Our voices fused together as if they had always meant to be, as if we were the two souls separated by the Gods and destined to meet again. Our hymn to Hera reached the sky and the hearts of our audience. I was ecstatic: the thrill of the performance still running in my veins, the lights of the torches and the moonlight dancing around me, the admiration of the people surrounding me. I felt as if my heart could burst for too much happiness all at once. I went looking for Kleanthis after the celebrations. I wanted to congratulate her and share with her the whirl of feelings inside me. I found her near the woods, away from the crowd. The first thing I noticed was that...she wasn't alone. A few girls were around her, chatting and whispering words I couldn't hear into each other ears. Kleanthis was laughing: one of the girls wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek making her laugh. A melodious sweet laughter. A knot formed in my stomach and I ran away before they could spotted me. I ran to my bed: my cheeks were crimson when I stopped. I laid down and hugged my knees as I used to do when I was a kid and needed reassurance. Kleanthis's laughter rang in my head again and I started crying. I had no idea why but tears ran copiously down my cheeks.

#original work #wlw writing project #wlw writing #wlw miniseries #ancient greece #lgbtqa+

28 notes · View notes

quranreadalong · 6 years

Text

#128, Surah 24

THE QURAN READ-ALONG: DAY 128

We’re in for a real treat this week fam. An-Nur (The Light) is from Medina, around 627-628 AD--a few months before or after the failed siege of the city. It has less than 70 ayat, but what it lacks in numbers it makes up for in Quality Content. We have a lot to talk about here. Mohammed’s family drama included!

In fact, we get started on that topic right away. To start us off, Mohammed offers the following:

The adulterer and the adulteress, scourge ye each one of them (with) a hundred stripes. And let not pity for the twain withhold you from obedience to Allah, if ye believe in Allah and the Last Day.

Oof! Bad! For a detailed discussion of the many accepted forms of punishment for zina, or sexual indecency, and how they came to be--including house arrest, financial punishment, death, and the corporal punishment indicated above--pls check here for fun stoning times. We have juicier topics to cover today.

No one should marry men or women found guilty of zina except fellow adulterers or idolators.

(For the record, I’m using “adultery” because it’s the nearest English equivalent, but Mohammed used zina to describe all sorts of things, not just PIV intercourse. While zina was a terrible crime that was sometimes punished by death, Mohammed said that as long as you’re a Muslim and not a polytheist, Allah will still let you into heaven even if you're guilty of it, so!)

Now then. Why are we talking about adultery today, exactly? Well, that brings us to an episode of The Prophet Mohammed Presents: All My Wives.

Let me quote from this long hadith narrated by Aisha, who at this time was around 14 years old.

Whenever Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) intended to go on a journey, he used to draw lots among his wives and would take with him the one on whom the lot had fallen. Once he drew lots when he wanted to carry out a Ghazwa [military expedition], and the lot came upon me. ... We carried on our journey, and when Allah's Apostle had finished his Ghazwa and returned and we approached Medina, Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) ordered to proceed at night. When the army was ordered to resume the homeward journey, I got up and walked on till I left the army (camp) behind. When I had answered the call of nature ... A necklace of mine made of Jaz Azfar (a kind of black bead) was broken and I looked for it and my search for it detained me.

Aisha was the wife Mohammed chose to accompany him on some exciting adventure of terrorizing Bedouin clans. She was carried around in a covered seat called a howdah (or hawdaj) on the back of a camel, which looks like this.

This is because Mohammed had ordered his wives to totally seclude themselves from men by this point, which we’ll get to later.

When their task was accomplished, the group returned home. On the way back, Aisha got up to go to the bathroom one night and lost part of her necklace. The men in charge of her camel didn’t look inside to make sure she was in the howdah (because they were not supposed to look at her), so they took off without her.

those people did not feel the lightness of the howdah while raising it up, and I was still a young lady. They drove away the camel and proceeded. Then I found my necklace after the army had gone. I came to their camp but found nobody therein so I went to the place where I used to stay, thinking that they would miss me and come back in my search.

Aisha lingered nearby, assuming that the men would realize their mistake and come back for her soon.

While I was sitting at my place, I felt sleepy and slept. Safwan ... was behind the army. He had started in the last part of the night and reached my stationing place in the morning and saw the figure of a sleeping person. He came to me and recognized me on seeing me for he used to see me before veiling. ... he made his shecamel kneel down whereupon he trod on its forelegs and I mounted it.

One of Mohammed’s soldiers, Safwan, had been separated from the rest of the troops and came upon her while she was sleeping at the campsite. He gave her a ride.

Then Safwan set out, leading the she-camel that was carrying me, till we met the army while they were resting during the hot midday. Then whoever was meant for destruction, fell in destruction, and the leader of the Ifk (false statement) was `Abdullah bin Ubai bin Salul. After this we arrived at Medina and I became ill for one month while the people were spreading the forged statements of the people of the Ifk, and I was not aware of anything thereof. But ... I was no longer receiving from Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) the same kindness as I used to receive when I fell sick. Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) would enter upon me, say a greeting and add, "How is that (lady)?" and then depart. That aroused my suspicion

She returned to Medina and fell ill, but while she was sick, schemes were afoot. The “ifk”, also known as the slander, is the topic of this part of the surah. Unbeknownst to her, some of Mohammed’s men had accused her of sleeping with Safwan the night that she was separated from the army. Aisha noticed that Mohammed was not treating his beloved child bride in his usual way, and was acting distant. She finally learned of what was going on when another woman told her, then she told her mother about it. Her mother suggested that one of Mohammed’s other wives, or one of their family members, was behind it.

My mother said, "O my daughter! Take it easy, for by Allah, there is no charming lady who is loved by her husband who has other wives as well, but that those wives would find fault with her." ... That night I kept on weeping the whole night till the morning. My tears never stopped, nor did I sleep

Mohammed’s pride was badly wounded by all this, so he consulted with some of his bros concerning the topic--how to determine Aisha’s guilt (Allah was in the shower at the time and couldn’t answer the phone) and what to do with her if she was in fact guilty. Ali said that it would be no big deal if Mo just tossed her aside regardless of the truth (Aisha would never forget this), but suggested asking one of Aisha’s slaves if she’d seen anything.

while I was still weeping, Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) called `Ali bin Abi Talib and Usama bin Zaid when the Divine Inspiration delayed, in order to consult them as to the idea of divorcing his wife. Usama ... said, "O Allah's Messenger (ﷺ)! She is your wife, and we do not know anything about her except good." But `Ali bin Abi Talib said, "... Allah does not impose restrictions on you; and there are plenty of women other than her. If you however, ask (her) slave girl, she will tell you the truth." `Aisha added: So Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) called for Barira and said, "O Barira! Did you ever see anything which might have aroused your suspicion? (as regards Aisha)”. Barira said, “... I have never seen anything regarding Aisha which I would blame her for except that she is a girl of immature age who sometimes sleeps and leaves the dough of her family unprotected so that the domestic goats come and eat it.”

The slave called Aisha immature but said she has never seen her with any men. Mohammed was now very irritated at Abdallah ibn Ubayy--who you may remember as one of the “munafiqun” who helped the Jews and didn’t want to go to Tabouk. He was the chief of one of the tribes of Medina, the Banu Khazraj.

So Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) got up (and addressed) the people an asked for somebody who would take revenge on `Abdullah bin Ubai bin Salul then.

This set off an argument between the Khazraj and the other main (formerly) polytheistic tribe of Medina, the Banu Aws. Mohammed just sighed and presumably began banging his head against a wall.

So the two tribes of Al-Aus and Al-Khazraj got excited till they were on the point of fighting with each other while Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) was standing on the pulpit.

Aisha, meanwhile, was miserable and still locked in her house, spending all her time crying and fearful. Mohammed came to Aisha and told her to confess to Allah if she had done something wrong, but she refused, because she wasn’t guilty of anything. At that exact moment, Allah finally got out of the damn shower and informed Mohammed that Aisha was innocent. The story’s epilogue states that Mohammed never did “deal with” Abdallah, who never admitted his “guilt” and could never be proven as the source of the rumors. Because he was the leader of one of Medina’s important tribes, killing him without evidence would have been an issue. Some others did admit to spreading the gossip, though, including the sister of one of Mohammed’s wives, as Aisha’s mother suspected; a poet named Hassan ibn Thabit, who was a messy bitch who lived for drama; and, curiously, a man from Aisha’s own extended family. They were admonished but Mohammed told everyone to just forget about all of it and never speak of it again.

As for the truth of what happened that night, look, idk. This hadith is from Aisha herself, and she would obviously want to present herself as innocently as possible. There are other ahadith where she seems to stretch the truth a tad in order to protect her reputation, like this one, which we’ll see much later on. Maybe Safwan was really hot and Aisha was sick of being married to an old guy, I wouldn’t blame her. But it’s more likely that she really was innocent--I mean the girl had been indoctrinated and brainwashed since childhood, the concept of infidelity probably never even occurred to her. And Safwan would’ve had to possess balls of steel to screw around with Mohammed’s youngest and favorite wife. So I tend to believe the allegations were false rumors. Whether Abdallah was truly involved or whether he was just the Token Guy To Blame as always, I can’t tell you.

Let’s get back to the Quran now. In 24:4, Mohammed says that people who accuse “honorable women” of adultery without evidence/witnesses/proof should be lashed 80 times, unless they say they’re sorry and repent. Uh... I guess that’s neutral, altogether? Corporal punishment is bad, but falsely accusing women of being adulterers is also bad, right? It evens out.

If you are accusing your own wife of zina, though, then your own testimony is all that’s needed. A man has to invoke a curse upon himself, called lian, saying that Allah can punish him if he’s lying. But if the wife says she’s innocent and also invokes the curse of Allah upon herself, telling Allah to send his wrath upon her if she’s lying, then what?! It’s a curse-off... one’s gotta be lying, but Allah’s punishment isn’t coming down upon either, so who is the truthful one?! Lo! It is like one of those games with the two-headed dragons, with one head that tells the truth and the other that only lies. Ibn Kathir collects some ahadith on this matter here if you want to see how Mohammed “resolved” this issue, though that one was only “resolved” because the woman was pregnant and her kid was obviously not her husband’s. Without that evidence, you’re just left sitting around waiting for Allah’s curse to materialize upon the liar. Tbh because it’s all so circular I feel like it’s ultimately neutral?

Now then... let’s talk about “the slander”. In 24:10, Mohammed thanks Allah for revealing the truth to him. Those who spread the lies, he says, are a “gang” and the one ultimately responsible for starting the rumor will be met with The Doom. He scolds the Muslims in general for not immediately shutting down the rumors, given that the accusers couldn’t identify any witnesses to the alleged affair. It’s a good thing that Allah is in a good mood today, he tells them, or else they’d all be doomed for their gossip, which was a grievous sin. They shouldn’t have even dared speculate about it, and they must never do this again.

Like... this is a bit much, but in context it’s at least understandable and neutral. You don’t accuse a cult leader’s child bride of being a ho and expect him to take it well.

This has been a long section because of that hadith, so I’ll leave it there for now.

NEXT TIME: We finish up the Slander Debacle and move onto forced modesty rules!!!

The Quran Read-Along: Day 128

Ayat: 17

Good: 0

Neutral: 15 (24:1, 24:4-17)

Bad: 2 (24:2-3)

Kuffar hell counter: 0

⇚ previous day | next day ⇛

#quranreadalong #surah 24 #an nur

10 notes · View notes

jbankai89 · 6 years

Text

Do You Believe In Fairies? [10/12]

A/N: I had to add on another chapter to wrap this thing up properly. Enjoy! :) Those of you who are more history-minded, do not look too closely at the marital traditions discussed in this fic going forward, as 99% of it is totally made up and holds no bearing on real things.

Chapter Ten – Kingly Offerings

Following his proposal to Otabek, Yuri had no idea what to expect by way of preparations.

Back in the Court, marriages were strictly something that the royals partook in to bind the houses together. Lower classes of Fae were generally too flighty to even consider binding themselves to one person, and often they were too busy seducing mortals to even consider some sort of deeper emotional bond to anyone.

The royal weddings were always a spectacle, however. A dozen days of dancing, drinking, and general merrymaking were held in the couple's honour, though the bonded pair were rarely seen after the formalities of the first day, far too busy celebrating their union in private to grace the others of the Court with their presence.

Yuri did not want something large and ridiculous. Not that they could really afford it, given that Yuri had no form of income, and he did not wish to put Otabek's family in the poorhouse. Had money been no object, Yuri felt as though he still would not wish for something large, as aside from Otabek's immediate family and Guang-Hong, he could think of no one else he wished to invite to the occasion, and he wished to keep it private.

This was not to be, given that when they returned to the village following Yuri's proposal, a white orchid wound around Otabek's wrist, it did not take long for the whispers to begin.

“Look! A proposal orchid!”

“Do you think the prince knows that his intended has been snatched up by this newcomer?”

“Oh, don't they just look lovely together? That stranger is so pretty, and he moves with Altin like they have known each other all their lives. Who is he?”

The whispers followed them all the way back to the forge, and Guang-Hong immediately darted outside to greet them. His eyes fell to their intertwined hands and Otabek's orchid, and his eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, I knew it, I knew it!” he cried as he ran up to them, embracing Yuri first, then Otabek, bestowing them each with a kiss on the cheek, which left Otabek looking endearingly flustered at the open show of affection. “When you left, I just had this feeling, and...oh, I knew Yuri was going to propose!”

“Get inside,” Otabek said by way of response, though his tone was less urgent and more amused as he shunted the young man towards the door. “We can talk more away from the gossip vultures.”

Otabek herded both Yuri and Guang-Hong inside, and the moment they crossed the threshold, Olga let out an excited shout of her own, making Matyash jump, and the twins drop their dolls in surprise.

“Oh this is just wonderful!” she cried as she rushed forward and dragged Otabek into a hug. “My boy, engaged... Yuri, Guang-Hong, you two are of course more than welcome into our little family, we haven't much, but...”

“My dear lady,” Yuri said, cutting her off gently as he took her hands in his own, assumed his princely tone, and regarded her with a warm smile. “Your hospitality is more warm and generous than that of all of my former kin could offer combined. I will do all I can to help, of course, but I am afraid that I am still learning the ways of your people, and at the moment, I am somewhat useless.”

“A Fae calling himself useless,” Matyash remarked with a chuckle as he stood up and moved to stand next to his wife. “That is something I never thought I would hear. Of course, traditionally it is preferred that the prospective suitor requests the hand of the intended to the parents first, but in this case, I see no reason to call a halt to this. As my wife said, you are welcome in this family, Yuri.”

Yuri smiled warmly at Matyash as he crossed his right arm across his chest, his palm resting over his heart, and bowed low to the older man.

“I thank you for your gracious hospitality,” Yuri said and smiled inwardly when both husband and wife flushed a little at his praise.

A slight tugging on Yuri's tunic drew them from their discussion, and he glanced down to see one of the twins standing there, her dark eyes, so like her big brother's, were wide and curious.

“Does this mean you'll be my big bwovver too now?” she asked, and Yuri realized it was Katya. He recalled Otabek telling him that she was the one with the lisp.

“Yes, I suppose it does,” Yuri said as he crouched down to smile at the girl, just as her twin zipped up to her side. “Is that all right with the two of you?”

“Beka always attwacts pwinces,” Katya said by way of explanation. “Pwince Jean-Jacques wikes him a wot. I think you're nicer than him though.”

“Am I?” Yuri asked, and she nodded fervently.

“The pwince isn't bad, but he wikes himself better than Beka.”

Otabek snorted, but didn't interrupt their conversation as Anya nodded in agreement and added, “yeah. He thinks he's the best, he thinks Beka is pretty, and wants to marry him, only cos he's pretty though. But Beka kept saying no.”

“Well, I'm glad he did,” Yuri said with a chuckle, “I like your brother very much. And for more than just his looks, though he is very handsome.”

The girls giggled when Otabek went very pink.

~*~

The following days were a flurry of activity for the family. Otabek spent half the time in the forge, taking on as many projects as he could in order to help save for the wedding, which they were all keen to have take place as soon as possible. Yuri was not too bothered by this—though the presence of iron still made him uneasy, despite the fact that it could no longer harm him, but the sight of Otabek without his upper clothing, shining with sweat, it was as though Adonis himself had descended from the heavens. Otabek was just too lovely to not observe.

At the same time, Olga had taken his measurements, and she and Katya had insisted upon putting together his wedding garb, while Yuri's offers to help were politely rejected. Yuri tried to keep from laughing at Katya's laments that she wished he was a girl, because a wedding dress was so much more fun to make than simple men's garb. He left the women to it, while he and Guang-Hong wandered off together to the flatlands to try and decide upon a worthy gift for Yuri's beloved.

“I don't want something too gaudy or ostentatious,” Yuri said as he and Guang-Hong soaked their feet in the cool river, the hot summer sun beating down on them relentlessly as they sat there. “Otabek does not seem to really enjoy being the centre of attention, but I want something...nice.”

“What about a bloom encased in false amber?” Guang-Hong asked as he regarded Yuri. “Glass coloured to look like amber, with a flower inside, maybe a rose or daisy, to symbolize the two blooms you gifted him with before?”

“Or pressed blooms between panes of glass,” Yuri added as he leant back against the grass and gazed at the sky. “But glass can be expensive...”

The sound of hoofbeats drew Yuri and Guang-Hong from their talk, and they both glanced up at the same moment to see a troupe of riders in expensive-looking garb making straight for them.

“Who is it?” Guang-Hong asked, and began to get up, but Yuri's hand on his arm stilled his movements.

“I think I know,” Yuri replied softly, “just relax, I do not believe that they will harm us.”

The galloping of the horses got louder as the troupe made its approach, the one in front on a sleek black stallion, the man himself with black hair and dressed in an emerald green. Everything from his steed to his clothing screamed of his high standing in society, higher even than a lord or lady—this was a prince, Yuri was certain of it.

Yuri stood up and tugged Guang-Hong with him. As the prince and his servants (or advisors, Yuri wasn't certain) slowed to a stop, he bowed low.

“Your highness,” Yuri said as he straightened up, and the man smirked. He dropped down from his horse and drew his sword, a fine longsword with some sort of inscription upon the blade, though too far away for Yuri to read it. Despite possible threat of drawing his weapon, Yuri had the strangest impression that the man wished merely to show off the weapon, but not use it.

“You know me?” he asked as he stepped forward, and cocked a brow at Yuri. Yuri could not help but mentally remark at the physical similarities between the prince and Otabek—save for their eyes. Where Otabek's were dark and warm, this man's was a deep ocean-blue—but not unkind.

“By reputation,” Yuri replied with a small smile. “We have a friend in common.”

The man raised his eyebrows, and sheathed his sword.

“You must be the famous Yuri, then,” he said, “the mysterious stranger who swept my intended off his feet as easily as breathing, when my attempts over the last year to win his favour yielded nothing.” Yuri nodded, uncertain what else he could say following such a statement.

“I am, your highness,” he replied. “I care very much for Otabek, and was pleased when he accepted my proposal.”

“I see. Prince Jean-Jacques is my name, crowned prince of this land, and son of Leroy, the king. You speak similarly to myself, as though you come from a royal line,” the prince remarked, arching a brow as he took a step closer to Yuri. “I have never heard a peasant speak as you do. What is your House?”

“I have no House,” Yuri replied, and the prince eyed him with disbelief. “I am in exile, your highness. I was forced out for my defence of Otabek.”

“Your defence of him?” the prince asked, and arched a brow. Yuri nodded.

“My king had kidnapped him, secreted him away to our lands as a gift to me.” Yuri wrinkled his nose, and dropped his gaze as he continued his story. “I demanded Otabek's freedom, lost the challenge I set to my king, and as a result, he, myself, and my Companion were all exiled. Otabek brought me here immediately after it happened.”

“I remember this kidnapping,” the prince said, “it occurred not a month past. When I spoke to his parents however, he said that he was taken by—oh.” His eyes widened, and Yuri shifted nervously. “You're Fae, aren't you?”

“Not anymore, your highness,” Yuri muttered, and he felt his face burn with shame. “My power was stripped from me when I was exiled. I have nothing left.”

“Hmm, not necessarily,” the prince said as he grinned at Yuri, some sort of odd winning smile that Yuri found strangely irksome, though he did not dare to let it show on his face. “I have a proposal for you and your...friend.” the prince's gaze flitted to Guang-Hong momentarily, then back to Yuri.

“A...proposal?”

“You needn't look so nervous,” the prince said teasingly. “I have no intention to come between you and my beloved, but weddings are expensive ventures, especially for a blacksmith. Certainly, they are more wealthy than some, but nowhere near rich enough to warrant planning a wedding like it is nothing.”

“Then what are your intentions?” Yuri asked, and the prince grinned again.

“I would like to offer you employment at the castle,” he said, and Yuri stared, certain that he'd misheard him. The prince pressed on before Yuri could interject, however. “I would not ask you to live there, my Otabek would not like that, he is a simple man, he needs only the barest of necessities to be content.”

“What sort of employment?” Yuri asked curiously, “I am afraid I know very little of the ways of human life, and I cannot see what use I would be to you.” He exchanged another bewildered look with Guang-Hong, then once again looked back to the prince, who was still grinning at him.

“Oh I believe you would be very well-suited for the job I have in mind,” he replied, “I wish for you to go through our records of Faery Folk, and correct it. I am not asking you to betray the secrets of your kind, merely adjust what our records say of how to appease or entreat with them. I am afraid that our current records are horrifically out of date, and we have lost many young men to them to your former people over the last few decades. I would pay you quite handsomely, certainly more than enough to give my Otabek the wedding he deserves.”

“I have no love for the monarchs of my former land,” Yuri began, his head bowed a little as he spoke. “Further, I would have no protests to the work you have offered, and indeed, I thank you for the opportunity. I must confess that while I enjoy the hospitality of the Altin family, this feeling of uselessness is not very pleasant to me. I have one request however, and I do apologize for my rudeness...” Yuri paused, taking a breath to brace himself for possibly going too far, but hearing this Prince Jean-Jacques speak as though he owned Otabek's heart made him feel slightly sick. The prince nodded once, inviting Yuri to continue.

“Do not call my Otabek your Otabek,” Yuri said firmly. “He chose me, and I must admit it is irksome to have you refer to him as such, when it is not you he chose to be with.”

Guang-Hong gasped at Yuri's brazenness, and at the same moment the prince's two companions leant towards each other and started to whisper rapidly. In contrast to the others, the prince smiled at Yuri, less like he had just demanded something of a monarch, and more like he had told him a particularly amusing joke. He strode forwards, rested a single finger under Yuri's chin, and tilted his gaze up until their eyes met.

“Quite a demand from one who is, for all intents and purposes, a peasant in my kingdom,” the prince purred while Yuri strove to keep his expression neutral. He did not know what to expect from this royal, and quite suddenly he rather wished he'd had the forethought to ask Otabek more about him.

“JJ!” a sudden voice cried out, and both Yuri and the prince whipped around to see Otabek running towards them, his eyes wide. “JJ, don't! Leave him alone!”

Otabek skidded to a halt next to Yuri, and tugged him back out of the prince's reach. Yuri stumbled into his side, and pressed a hand to Otabek's chest to stop himself from falling.

“Leave him alone,” Otabek repeated firmly, one arm wrapped possessively around Yuri's waist as he frowned at the prince. “Please.”

“I was doing nothing wrong, Otabek, I swear it,” the prince replied smoothly, and offered Otabek a warm smile. “I was merely ceding my defeat to him for your lovely hand.”

Otabek flushed a deep scarlet, and the arm around Yuri's waist tightened slightly.

“I've asked you before to not make comments like that, it makes me uncomfortable,” Otabek said, and the prince bowed.

“Apologies, Otabek. I am afraid sometimes I forget myself where you are concerned, and it is difficult to control my wayward tongue,” the prince said, and his eyes fell again to Yuri. “I suppose that is what lost me your hand, my lack of respect for you.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Allow me to make it up to you, then,” the prince said with another bow to Yuri, Otabek, and Guang-Hong. “I offer you the castle's rose gardens as space for your wedding, the castle's priestess, and anything else you should require for your special day. And, of course, Yuri, the job is still yours if you want it.”

“Job?” Otabek asked as he turned to Yuri, and he reached out to squeeze the brunet's arm gently.

“I'll explain later, I promise,” Yuri murmured, and Otabek inclined his head once.

“That is very kind of you, your highness, but we wish to have our wedding in simplicity, not extravagance,” Otabek said to the prince, and bowed once. Yuri felt himself gasp at his brazenness in the face of a monarch, but amazingly, the prince did not appear offended by the rejection. Instead, he bowed deeply to Otabek and Yuri in turn.

“I understand,” the prince said, and turned to Yuri as he chirruped once, calling his horse forward, and closed his hand over the reins. “Yuri, come to the castle when you have decided whether or not you want the work. Ask for me by name, you should have no issues with the servants barring you from seeing me. Good day.”

Without another word he got back on his horse, called to his attendants to rejoin him, and they rode off.

Yuri felt his entire body sag with relief as he watched the prince disappear, and he turned to Otabek, who was smiling at him with vague amusement that Yuri did not share.

“What on earth were you thinking, Otabek?” “What?”

“Speaking to your prince like that!” Yuri cried, his eyes wide with fear. “What if he had executed you for your insolence? I can't tie myself to you if you have no head!” Yuri was breathing harshly, alarmed over the possibility that in a split-second he could have lost his precious Otabek—his own insolent remark at the prince not a full ten minutes prior notwithstanding.

“Yuri,” Otabek said, his voice ringing with patience as he smiled at him warmly, “this is not the Fae Court, the rules here are different. What you saw was not insolence...well, it would have been, had I not known Prince JJ personally, but we are...acquainted. I would not call us friends, but certainly closer than strangers. He is a bit...frustrating to deal with, but he and his family have never been harsh or cold monarchs, they care for their people. They always have.”

Yuri shifted closer to Otabek, and wrapped his arms around the human's—fellow human's, Yuri reminded himself—waist, and clung tightly to him.

“Everything here is so strange, it scares me, the...the...life here is so perilous, and I am in fear of losing you so often, and I think, Gods above, what if something happens, what if I do lose you?” Yuri gazed up at Otabek as he spoke, his voice catching, and he felt tears sting his eyes. He couldn't lose Otabek—he simply couldn't.

“I'm not going anywhere, Yuri,” Otabek murmured as he moved to cradle his cheek, and kissed him lightly, “just breathe, it's all right, everything is all right.”

“Why does this conversation sound so familiar?” Yuri asked suddenly, and Otabek laughed.

“I do recall falling apart quite spectacularly when I was taken by...” Otabek hesitated briefly, “...him, I'd say your distress is hardly unwarranted, my Yuri.” Otabek paused, and kissed him lightly. “It will take time to adjust to human culture, do not pressure yourself, be patient with yourself.”

Otabek rubbed Yuri's back as he spoke, and Yuri hugged him tightly as he arched up for another kiss.

“Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve you,” Yuri murmured as he reached up to brush his fingers along the edge of his jaw, “you are just so...lovely.”

Yuri smiled when he saw Otabek flush pink at the compliment, and rested his arm securely around Yuri's narrow waist.

“Come home with me and tell me about this job offer that Prince JJ mentioned,” Otabek said encouragingly, just as a soft cough sounded not far from them, and they both turned to Guang-Hong, who had been sitting off to one side quietly. He smiled warmly at them, his eyes glimmering with mirth over the fact that he had been momentarily forgotten by the couple, though he did not appear at all offended.

“Let's all go home,” Yuri said in an effort to smooth over the awkward moment, and with one arm wrapped around Otabek, he reached out the other to join hands with Guang-Hong, and the three of them headed back towards the forge.

“Tell me,” Otabek repeated as they moved, “what is this job that the prince spoke of?”

“Oh, ah...he wants Guang-Hong and I to update their records of my people, erm, former people. I think he wants to find ways to stop them from taking the firstborn sons, but I didn't think it would be wise to tell him that that would be impossible until the present king is gone. I feared he might attempt to go to war, and such a thing would be foolhardy, to say the least. Humans do not stand a chance against an army of Fae.”

“I wish I could disagree and have more faith in my own people, but after seeing the Court...” Otabek trailed off and shook his head. “Perhaps it is best if you humour him, and not share that tiny detail with the prince, should you take the job.”

“I don't intend to—tell him, I mean,” Yuri clarified, “the job I will take, if you think it's a good idea. Will the prince not try to keep me away from you?”

“I see no reason why you shouldn't,” Otabek replied with a small smile. “As I have said, our prince is not like your Court was. He is not a vindictive man—full of himself, yes, but never cruel. If you would like to take the job, I see no reason why you shouldn't.”

Smiling warmly at the approval of his fiancé, the trio fell silent as they finally made it back to the forge.

That night, after a sumptuous meal prepared by Otabek's mother, they spent the evening before the fire, warm and content while Yuri and Guang-Hong listened to the family exchange stories, some true, some fanciful, all the while sitting next to Otabek, their hands intertwined, while Guang-Hong sat at his side, his knees drawn up to his chest, and a small smile upon his face. After the accident of excluding him that afternoon, Yuri and Otabek had been more careful to include Guang-Hong in their conversations, so as to ensure that he did not feel left out. The young man appeared highly amused by their efforts, but neither did he stop them. Guang-Hong seemed to be highly amused by their habit of becoming so wrapped up in each other that they forgot who else might be present, though Yuri did not allow this quiet permission to encourage him to ignore Guang-Hong, and in fact had the opposite effect. His former Companion, now simply his friend, was like a little brother to him, and he never wanted to do anything that might imply that he was a burden on him.

“There is something I have not told you,” Guang-Hong whispered a little while after the Altins had headed to bed, leaving Yuri and Guang-Hong alone curled up before the dying fire to talk in private.

“Oh?” Yuri asked, “and what might that be?”

“A young man from the market, a fiddler and son of a fish monger, he has been approaching me when I go into town. He is...” Guang-Hong paused and bit his lip, his cheeks flushing a faint pink as he sat there. “He reminds me of someone, but I cannot place who. Someone from my former life, I think. Is that even possible, your h—Yuri?”

“He could be a reincarnation of someone you used to know, that is not outside the realm of possibility,” Yuri replied. “I knew of a few young men our former monarch would enchant, but not take, and he would revisit them every few hundred years, when they were once more upon the earth after being reborn.”

“I like him,” Guang-Hong proclaimed with that same small, shy smile. “Would it be possible for you or Otabek to invite him to the wedding, so that I may dance with him?”

Yuri chuckled, wrapped an arm around Guang-Hong's shoulders, and pressed a friendly kiss to his cheek.

“It is done, my friend.”

Guang-Hong's expression brightened, and he rested his head on Yuri's shoulder. Yuri shifted his gaze to the glowing embers in the hearth, and watched them until Guang-Hong began to nod off. He guided his friend up to his bed before joining Otabek, and curled up into the warm embrace of his beloved, and began to count the days until they could finally tie themselves together.

He could hardly wait.

A/N: If you like my work, please consider throwing a few bucks into my Digital Tip Jar. I am a starving artist, and I like not actually starving to death :P you can also support me on Patreon, where I am posting all things related to my upcoming cookbook. Simply Vegan.

DYBIF Masterpost

#otayuri #otayuri AU #otayuri fae #fae au #otayuri fic

1 note · View note

silverscreenclassics2016 · 5 years

Text

by Paul Batters

‘I don’t know, it seems to me that if they ain’t got you one way, they’ve got you another. So what’s the answer? That’s what I keep asking myself. What’s it all about?’ Alfie (Michael Caine) in Alfie

To declare that Michael Caine is a cinema icon is an understatement. For over six decades, he has graced our screens in a myriad of roles and has been unafraid to tackle characters that others would have not dared touch. And he has certainly not slowed down. Still seeking challenges and refusing to believe that age is a determinant for ambition, Michael Caine is very active and has stated that retirement is simply not an option.

It has been quite some years since Caine appeared in his breakout role in Alfie (1966) but it is easy to see why it made him a star. As the Cockney Lothario who charms his way through a bevy of women, Caine found himself a major star upon the film’s release. Caine himself stated that he never imagined Alfie would be anything other than a British film for British audiences that would do modest business. But this started to change during filming, with Caine pointing that despite initial doubts, mainly about himself, the feeling soon developed that ‘maybe we got something here’. For Caine, his realisation that they ‘might be on a winner’ was when he heard the laughter from those watching the rushes.

Quite a number of reviewers and critics have stated that Alfie is a timeless classic, and this reviewer certainly agrees. It is more than the story of a self-centred Cockney charmer who leads a hedonistic and selfish lifestyle. It is also more than a walk-through London in the Swinging Sixties. Alfie poses questions and challenges for audiences to ponder – today as much as it did in the 1960s.

Despite its’ reputation, Alfie is not a film which celebrates hedonism or sexual exploitation; nor does it set the main character up as a hero to be worshipped. On the surface, Alfie is a character who uses his charm, charisma and good looks to seduce women and use them in every way he can for his own pleasures. They cook his food, wash his clothes and of course provide him with plenty of sex. And certainly, there was something enticing about the character’s swinging lifestyle, humour and intriguing nature that made the film a hit. As biographer William Hall has noted’, ‘Women adored the hooded gaze, the slightly mocking approach, the deadpan throwaway lines. Men in their turn had a sneaking admiration for the self-made cavalier, raunchy, honest to a fault with himself, unashamed of his own rough edges and totally his own master’.

Yet despite this, Alfie’s character arc shows a man who does not have it all. A feminist critique could offer plenty in terms of the male gaze of back-slapping admiration of a man bedding many women, fitting the sexual fantasy of partners-a-plenty. But the film questions whether this is admirable. Indeed, Alfie is a condemnation of that very sentiment, with Michael Caine himself describing Alfie as a ‘no-good layabout’ and a despicable individual.

What makes Alfie work is its’ incredible authenticity, which gives the film its’ lasting strength. There’s no pretence to Alfie and the brutal honesty of the character removes any possibility of superficiality. This is achieved from the very opening scene of the film, when we are introduced to the main character by Alfie himself. Breaking the fourth wall, Alfie narrates in real time and tells his story as it happens, complete with his deepest insights, observations and philosophical interpretation. Alfie’s intimacy with the audience is a fundamental factor in the film’s magic – he speaks to us as individuals rather than a whole group or crowd. It’s highly personal, intensely intimate and thus honest (at least to a point). The audience becomes Alfie’s ‘confessor’ and at times it feels like we become his ‘best mate’. Yet Alfie could just as well be speaking to a mirror of himself, seeking to justify his thoughts, feelings and actions, and therefore bouncing his thoughts around to try and gain some perspective.

youtube

Alfie’s philosophy of life and his ideas on women become obvious immediately. The audience first discovers that Alfie is having an affair with a married woman named Siddie (Millicent Martin) whom he objectifies by calling her ‘it’, which is perhaps one of the most offensive aspects of his behaviour. Yet his objectification of women is also Alfie’s armour against intimacy and deeper emotion. After dropping Siddie off at a train station, he goes to see Gilda (Julia Foster) who is deeply in love with Alfie and very much in need of more than what he gives her. She pushes away a kind and gentle bus conductor named Humphrey (Graham Stark) who loves her as a result. Like all the other women he uses, Gilda is also objectified and treated miserably. But Alfie simply states that a woman can be quite happy ‘if she knows her place’.

Yet Alfie’s relationship with Gilda is about to change when he discovers that she is pregnant. It is an unwanted complication to his easy-going life, and he makes this clear as he gives the audience a run-down of the many women he is regularly seeing and having sex with whilst also seeing Gilda. He tries to break it off as well as convince Gilda to give the child away but to her credit she wants to keep the child. The eventual birth of a baby boy sees something happen in Alfie, which he admits has broken through his armour and will haunt him throughout the film. He becomes attached to the boy named Malcolm, even though he still objectifies Malcolm’s mother. Alfie explains that any ‘bird’ can be replaced but a child is special and individual. Yet he is not beyond disowning Malcolm as ‘my sister’s (child)’ when picking up a woman in the park.

youtube

His attachment to Malcolm will also not prevent him walking out on Gilda and his son, when the challenge to the status quo arises. Humphrey has been calling on Gilda and declares he loves both her and the boy. It becomes a line in the sand which Alfie refuses to cross and reveals Alfie’s despicable nature when he says to Gilda, ‘I don’t know what love is the way you birds go on about it’. Neither does he care about or want Gilda’s respect, to which Alfie declares ‘I don’t want no bird’s respect, I wouldn’t know what to do with it’. For Alfie a woman is present to serve his base needs and nothing else. It’s a terrible indictment of the emptiness and emotional void underneath Alfie’s charm and charisma. Alfie’s abandoning Gilda, however, will not ease his problems and his peace of mind will not be eased either.

A moment of vulnerability highlights the fragility of Alfie’s sense of self when he discovers he has tuberculosis and has a mental collapse. The scene in which he discovers he is sick is also underscored by his leaving Gilda and her refusal to take him back but more so by losing the relationship with his son, Malcolm. The lead-up to discovering he has ‘shadows on his lungs’ is brilliant and the interplay between the doctor (Eleanor Bron) and Alfie is an incredible and masterful display of dialogue from Caine. It is a combination of humour and tragedy in the best traditions of Greek drama and certainly highlights the absurd parallels of both running alongside each other.

While convalescing though, Alfie pulls himself back together and returns to form in his seducing of his nurse Carla (Shirley Anne Field) much to the horror of his fellow patient Harry (Alfie Bass) and his wife Lily (Vivien Merchant). Alfie tries to impart his cynical philosophy on Harry via a cruel hypothetical scenario of Harry dying and his wife and kids forgetting him. Naturally, Harry becomes deeply upset and his usual kind and humble demeanour breaks into a violent attack on Alfie, which is quickly subdued due to his illness. It is a poignant moment which highlights the damage that Alfie along the way:

youtube

Perhaps the most appalling act Alfie carries out is the seduction of Harry’s sheltered and loving wife, Lily. Taking advantage of her loneliness and vulnerability, Alfie exploits her and adds that ‘it will round off the tea nicely’. His unthinking cruelty is also revealed in his blunt assessment of Lily’s sexual experience (or lack thereof) after he seduces her. Lily woundedly replies that she has never been with anyone but Harry, her husband and the audience cannot help but feel dismal towards Alfie.

youtube

Alfie certainly is a predator, using his guile as well as his charm to entice women into his world. Whilst some of his partners are willing and seeking a good time, others are exploited in their vulnerability like Lily, as well as a young girl from up north named Annie (Jane Asher) whom he picks up at a truck stop. Assessing that she is running away from a failed relationship back home, Alfie uses his wiles to manipulate Annie and she ends up not only as a domestic servant but a sexual object for his satisfaction. Reading her diary and picking up her sadness from the songs she listens to, Alfie states that ‘it punishes itself’ by washing, cooking and cleaning’ (and giving her body for sex) which Alfie happily obliges to his advantage.

But again, Alfie’s vulnerability will be tested when he also begins a relationship with an older American woman named Ruby (Shelley Winters) whom he seems to respect because ‘she knows what she wants and she’s gonna get it’. Despite claiming he could easily settle down with Ruby, he still objectifies her, repeating ‘she’s in beautiful condition’, as if she’s a car with a great chassis and a good motor running.

youtube

Yet the most controversial moment of the film (in the context of the 1960s) is the abortion scene where Lily comes to Alfie’s flat, pregnant and ready to meet a pre-arranged abortionist (Denholm Elliott). Even at this point, he accepts no responsibility and calls her a ‘fallen woman’ and that he is just ‘trying to help a friend’. Alfie makes the honest assessment, though deflecting it as being male, that like ‘all men’ he only wants the pleasure and no part of the pain. Yet when Alfie sees the aborted foetus, the mask drops and he breaks down in tears, fleeing his flat. Distraught, he realises the enormity of what has happened to the one friend that the audience sees he has, admitting his selfishness: “I was crying for my bleeding self”. Again, it’s hard evidence that Alfie damages those he is involved with.

youtube

The trauma of the abortion, combined with Annie finally leaving him after he drives her away, finds Alfie driven to seeking deeper meaning in his life and he decides to ask Ruby to marry him. Yet for once, Alfie will be the one used and deeply wounded. The one woman Alfie claims to respect and love is also in bed with another man when he arrives to see her. Ruby tells Alfie that he’s too old – a cruel rejection which Alfie can do nothing about. It is the turning point of the film which leaves Alfie reaping what he has sown, in a twist of dramatic irony that is all too obvious to him as well as the audience.

youtube

The final scene sees him standing near when where the audience saw him at the start. Incidentally, he sees Siddie but she has no interest in him, seemingly after he has let her down. It is a strong revelation that change has occurred for all the characters and those that have crossed paths with Alfie end up the worse for it. Though scarred by him, they becomes emboldened to do something about their lives – while Alfie remains trapped in his limited world. Gilda discovers her self-respect and finds happiness with Humphrey. From her awful pain grows a demand for respect in their relationship and the realisation that he deserves more than what Alfie is offering. Annie eventually leaves with a quiet dignity well beyond her years. Harry is cuckolded and Lily forced to have an abortion. Even Siddie loses respect for him and decides to invest her time and emotions into her husband.

Indeed, there are many others that Alfie has let down and the audience witnesses their feelings towards him. The waitress at the truck stop seems to be pleased that he may get into trouble after being stood up. The driver he steals Annie from eventually physically attacks Alfie. Gilda certainly loses respect for him and its’ doubtful if Annie ever respected him. Two acquaintances are able to easily exploit his fragile ego, which do not suggest friendship of any sort. Even the crowd that cheer him at the truck stop, are cheering his sexual exploits but is this something that suggest an honourable man? Ultimately, Alfie is a man without honour, whose words and actions reflect a selfish, self-centred and irresponsible man without any concern for the impacts of his actions on others.

Worse still, Alfie is ultimately a lonely man trying to fill a void which has been consciously or inadvertently created by himself. He seems to have only one friend, who is also a Cockney con-artist. At the end of the film, the void is worse than ever and Alfie is left alone and despondent, a victim of his own personal philosophy on life. It is not a case of ‘karma’ finally getting him but that Alfie’s own choices have led him to this point. There is no fulfilment in his life and Alfie makes the point that one would think he’s had the best of it and come out in front because he has taken so much from others and given little or nothing in return. Yet, he does not have peace of mind. And his final question ‘what’s it all about?’, muttered by Alfie as he pets a lonely stray dog, may suggest that perhaps he has learned something and could transform himself, after all.

Alfie is a film which succeeds because it’s an incredibly well-crafted film and deceptively so. Director and producer Lewis Gilbert crafts a story where we alternate between liking a loveable rogue yet seeing a cad at the same time. The dialogue is tight and natural, driving the story along without pretension. The supporting cast is incredibly strong and even though the likes of Shelley Winters and Denholm Elliott play small roles, they are crucial ones and their impact is central to the story. Caine in his autobiography believes that Elliot acted him off the screen and gave high praise to the now deceased actor.

The outstanding score was provided by jazz legend Sonny Rollins and Caine would also state that he became a jazz fan as a result. Rollins’ depth and sensitivity underscores key moments in the film, which give the story a deeper impact. And of course, the title track written by Burt Bacharach, would be sung by Cilla Black to promote the film in England and by Cher for the U.S release. Personally, I am not a huge fan of Cher but she delivers a knock-out performance.

But ultimately, the film belongs to Michael Caine and his turn as Alfie is an incredible feat of acting. There is such impressive balance in his performance that the audience is torn between loving Alfie and wanting to knock his block off. The delivery of the dialogue is done with amazing precision, finesse and talent, and with such natural feeling. Caine has to work between the action on the screen and the personal asides to the camera, which he achieves with amazing fluidity, allowing the audience to slip in between effortlessly. It is an incredibly far more demanding role than what it may seem and Caine delivers such a natural performance that it is easy to forget this. As a result, it is the perfect evidence of a strong actor who can draw us into the journey. Caine would be nominated for a Best Actor Oscar, which he would not win. Yet his turn as Alfie is an Oscar-winning performance and it should go down as ‘one that got away’.

Alfie is a far more layered film than it may initially appear, and whilst often humorous, it does challenge the nature of human selfishness and individual desire, hedonism and the concept of what happiness truly means. Ultimately, we are all challenged to contemplate our own roles in our personal relationships and life journey. Like Alfie, we find ourselves reflecting on our lives and asking ‘what it’s all about’?

youtube

This review of Alfie (1966) has been submitted to the The Second Marvellous Michael Caine Blogathon kindly hosted by Realweegiemidget Reviews. Thank you so much for hosting and allowing me to be part of this great blogathon! Please click on the link to read the other great entries on the wonderful Michael Caine.

Paul Batters teaches secondary school History in the Illawarra region and also lectures at the University Of Wollongong. In a previous life, he was involved in community radio and independent publications. Looking to a career in writing, Paul also has a passion for film history.

Alfie (1966): Michael Caine and the meaning of life by Paul Batters 'I don't know, it seems to me that if they ain't got you one way, they've got you another.

0 notes